Falling Like ✸ Jon Snow ✓

68| 𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔯

shipbreaker bay, the stormlands

— NYMERIA WASN'T ONE TO GET OVERLY COCKY BEFORE A PLAN WAS COMPLETE. She knew much better, of course. That being said, she couldn't help but feel a small victorious spark as she and Daenerys successfully drove most of the Iron fleet beyond the Blackwater into Shipbreaker Bay. Only three ships had escaped, fleeing south to King's Landing and Euron's bevy of ships stationed there.

Small outcroppings of sharp rocks guarded the mouth of the bay like the razor teeth of some kind of beast – a warning to any versed sailor as to what perils lay ahead – and Drogon and Rhaegal descended to land upon them as they watched the ships sail further into the dark, churning waters.

Storm's End was not named the way it was needlessly, and neither its skies nor its waters offered any kind of mercy for the wooden toys of man that dared venture close. As they watched, ships were already beginning to break on the rocks they couldn't avoid, the sailors likely struggling in the winds.

Then Nymeria noticed about half the ships breaking away, turning about as if they meant to flee around the dragons. Her lip twitched at the foolish act. She'd been hoping for a little flight action, after all.

As they neared the entrance where the dragons stood guard, she took hold of the spikes at the base of Rhaegal's neck. She didn't need to utter a word; with a mighty roar, he immediately leapt skyward, his wingbeats deafening as he pushed higher and higher.

Somewhere, she heard Daenerys and Drogon take off as well.

Screams and yells reached her ears somehow from the crews below as the dragons neared, weapons being turned about, ready to defend.

Nymeria leaned forward, and Rhaegal dove, his scales heating beneath her right before he let out a burst of flame. Smoke drifted skyward as ships burned, and they continued on like that for a short while, swooping past to rain fire on the enemy, twisting and turning to avoid their artillery. Once or twice, an arrow zipped by a bit close for comfort, but it was the scorpions that worried Nymeria more.

It was as if thinking about the scorpions had summoned fate.

At exactly the wrong moment, a gust of wind from the whirling storm above Storm's End struck Rhaegal's wing the wrong way, and he snarled indignantly while quickly changing the angle of his wings to right himself. But for just a second, with his and Nymeria's focus turned away from the ships, they were left vulnerable.

The scorpion bolt moved too quickly for Nymeria to spot, but she certainly felt it. Rhaegal jerked, one wing suddenly struggling to beat at an awkward angle with a bolt lodged below it. He screeched, and the wind began to whistle coldly around Nymeria as they fell rapidly.

Eyes widening, she gripped Rhaegal's spikes tighter, just trying not to be flung into the sea as he was nearly spinning as he fell.

"Come on!" She gasped. "Rhaegal! It's okay! We can do it! Lykiri! Lykiri, Rhaegal!"

His shrieking turned to less panicked growls and yips as he listened, and Nymeria gritted her teeth, centering herself and throwing her full weight into turning them from sideways to upright and towards land. He faltered slightly as he flew, jerking her around, but they could make it. They had to.

We'll make it.

They were so close... and then a ship cut into their path, waves rolling off where the hull sliced through the water. A scorpion pointed off the side of the ship, staring straight at them. Nymeria's breath quickened and shook slightly. If they hit him again, he could fall into the water and drown. If they hit him in the eye, they'd kill him instantly. There was only one thing she could do...