Chapter 74: Chapter 50: RaceNotes:
Sorry for the delay, I didn't realise how hard writing a race actually was. I actually had to binge and rewatch the entire Cars trilogy to even get started.
This chapter is shorter than the last, mostly because it was meant as a two-parter with the next one, but I wanted to cut down on the number of Interludes and so made this half into a Rhae POV.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"What we don't know won't hurt us. What a stupid saying—what we don't know is usually what gets us killed."
-Lord Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin under King Rhaegar I
111 AC, Skies above Casterly Rock
Anticipation hung in the air like a haze.
Under the late summer sun, people were crammed in shoulder-to-shoulder. Some seated in great grandstands raised at the foot of Casterly Rock. Even more stood wherever there was space, standing in fields or carts or a hundred other things that gave even the smallest vantage point. The walls of Lannisport were covered in humanity, enterprising lordlings having charged admission to the top of the walls to view the aerial race.
It was a crowd of thousands, smallfolk and lordlings alike, all crammed together to see a sight none had ever seen before in living memory.
Under the noon sun, eleven dragons and their riders lined up at the foot of Casterly Rock, before a long line drawn into the dirt. Even when they weren't racing, flying on dragonback was an inherently dangerous activity, and we'd swiftly gotten into the habit of dressing appropriately.
Our default flight attire tended to be thick trousers of linen and leather, occasionally with a fleece lining, if the weather was cold enough. All-covering boots and gloves, wool socks and scarves, alongside a wool-lined leather skullcap and goggles. If I could, I'd have added an emergency parachute to the attire, but unfortunately Rhaegar and I had yet to create a working prototype, despite our best efforts.
While such an attire might have felt overkill in summertime, it could actually get surprisingly cold up in the air. Especially with the rushing winds.
My very first winter in the UK, I suffered horridly not due to the cold, but due to the biting winds. Those things bit into an unprepared person, ripping away warmth mercilessly like scythe. Even donning the thickest ski jacket I owned—so thick I waddled instead of walked— did little to stop me from becoming a human popsicle.
The Dragonseeds had complained of course. They didn't like being made to dress up like World War One fighter plane pilots even in the middle of summer. But I'd been a father once, and before that, an older brother. I had many many tricks up my sleeves to make children listen to me.
Now, Dad would probably have forced the Dragonseeds to don the proper attire, no matter what. Mom would have found some way to either bribe or blackmail them into obeying. They weren't wrong, and I followed in their footsteps a lot when raising Yuri.
But for a lot of things, I'd personally found my older brother's method the most effective:
Just smile and nod, and let them suffer the consequences of their foolishness.
After a few flights without adequately warm clothes, even someone as stubborn and headstrong as Aerion bent his neck. Colds, after all, were not fun to suffer through.
The race began with the sounding of a dragonhorn, blown by Rhaegar on the summit of Casterly Rock, where a great grandstand had been raised to allow the lords and ladies of the court to see the race.
Though Prince Daemon's second son stood near a kilometre above the starting line, his Call reverberated through our bones, the blood of Valyria in our veins allowing us all to hear it as though we were standing right beside him.
Baela was first into the air, Nightfall kicking off the ground mere milliseconds after the starting horn. She must have been boosting her reflexes with magic in order to be so quick.
I might have chided Baela for cheating in such a manner, but after Aerion, Maegelle, Shaeterys and Rhaena all shot into the sky less than a second behind Baela, it became obvious that she was hardly the only one using magic in this race.
By the time the remaining six riders had gotten their senses back and taken off as well, those five were nearly a hundred feet ahead.
Aerion and Baela were neck-in-neck, Sunfyre rapidly overtaking the rest and moving to contest Nightfall's lead. There was some jostling, Sunfyre and Nightfall ramming aggressively into each other as they tried to pass.
Eventually, the larger dragon triumphed, Aerion speeding into the lead, pushing forward at maximum speed.
Meanwhile, Maegelle had lost her early lead. She'd never been a particularly skilled flyer and despite her cheating with magic, was getting overtaken one after another. Laenor in particular was slowly clawing his way up the rankings. He'd overtaken Bell, and was now right on Shaeterys' heels.
Within minutes, they all reached the turning point above Lannisport. By this point Sunfyre had slowed down, tired out from attempting to maintain such a high speed throughout the race. They angled into the turn, and were promptly overtaken by Baela and Rhaena.
Nightfall and Daybreak were smaller than Sunfyre, and though their top speed was lower, they were significantly more agile than the larger dragon.
The twins flew in concert, flying with remarkable skill and coordination. The two dragons flew in single file, Nightfall up front to break the wind, Daybreak at the back.
Simultaneously, the twins were blocking Shaeterys and Aerion's attempts to overtake, constantly darting this way and that, anything to keep the larger and faster dragons behind them. If they could, the twins might very well have kept that up all the way until the finish line.
Unfortunately though, their lead was broken at the next turn—right above Casterly Rock— by a most unexpected contender.
As the dragons all began slowing down into the turn, one dragon instead began accelerating.
Letting gravity boost it's fall, Balefyre suddenly entered a sharp descent, descending at such an angle that for a moment, Bell hung upside down, stuck to the saddle only by her belaying chains. An instant later, Balefyre had barrel-rolled such that Bell was upright once more, the two of them shooting from seventh to first place in an instant.
"Did Bell just…" My girlfriend trailed off in wonder.
"Yeah." I agreed, nodding, though Laena couldn't see me. "A reverse Immelmann Turn. I didn't think any Dragonseed outside of Daena could pull shit like that."
"Bell's been holding out on us." Laena muttered in awe. "Wherever did she get the time to practise such a manoeuvre?"
"I don't know." I admitted, tapping the glass candle attached to my bracer to replay the move. "But I am most thoroughly impressed. Bell's getting a pay raise, that's for certain."
"You don't pay her anything." Laena pointed out.
"So giving her a raise shouldn't be too hard." I smiled winningly, and despite Laena attempting to muffle herself, I could clearly hear her snickering over the glass candle.
I clearly wasn't the only person stunned and impressed, for Baela and Rhaena had been unable to take their eyes of Bell, and Shaeterys had taken the opportunity to overtake them. Though the twins had refocused quick enough to bar Aerion from passing them.
Unfortunately, Bell's lead only lasted until the Lannisport turn. Unlike Casterly Rock, where the riders only had to circle the summit, the racers had to circle the entire city walls this time, meaning that there could be no absurdly sharp turn like the move Bell had pulled to gain the lead.
Artys passed Balefyre in an elegant glide, riding the sea breeze with in an almost dainty manner. A few flaps of its wings later, and Shaeterys began shooting ahead of the rest of the crowd.
Baela and Rhaena passed Bell as well, a few heartbeats later, Prince Daemon's secondborn not even putting up a token effort to contest their passing. Aerion on the other hand…
I gotta hand it to Bell, the oldest Vale bastard may have been a poorer flyer than the youngest, but she really put her back into making sure that Aerion couldn't pass her. Even though her relentless blocking let another three riders slip by her, she absolutely refused to compromise on preventing Aerion from overtaking her.
Suddenly, I realised that Bell's drastic move to gain the lead wasn't out of a desire to win the race. No, Prince Daemon's secondborn didn't care if she won or lost. All that mattered to her was that Aerion lost more.
It was an unusual display of spite from someone as stoic as Bell, but then again, even the most even-keeled among us had their eternal foes. Their nemesis whom we lost all rationality before. The ones whom we'd never forgive nor forget, even unto the end of time. People whom we hated so so so so much that we lost all reason before them.
"Looks like Shaeterys has got this in the bag." Laena murmured. "By my estimate, Artys is probably the fastest flyer among this lot. Assuming nothing goes wrong and he keeps his cool, he could very well continue on like this towards the finish line."
"Speed isn't everything." I hedged, though I didn't contradict Laena's words. My girlfriend was right though. Generally speaking, outside of Sylvie's progeny, Shaeterys was arguably the best rider among the Dragonseeds. And lesser racers had most definitely won on leads smaller than his currently was.
I clearly wasn't the only person to see that, and as the race entered it's final lap, desperate times called for desperate measures.
Near half the riders attempted Bell's reverse Immelmann turn when they hit the Casterly Rock turn, all desperate to gain the lead, though results were… debatable.
Urrax refused to dive at such an angle and aborted midway, while Aerion had poured too much speed in, and would have crashed into the side of Casterly Rock had Laena and Vhagar not swooped in in between the golden dragon and the Rock, cushioning the blow for the younger and smaller duo, Vhagar's great bulk shrugging off the impact against solid rock a lot better than Sunfyre ever could.
I winced at the impact. Even so high in the air above I could almost feel the way the entire Rock had shuddered under that great blow. There were even a few small rockfalls from the impact, which I sincerely hoped wouldn't result in lasting structural damage. That'd be a headache to deal with.
Rhaena and Baela had lost their positions in the race. They'd been able to pull of the stunningly difficult turn, but found themselves off-course and in the time it took them to return, Bell and Shaera—neither of whom had bothered to do the manoeuvre—had overtaken them.
But there was one rider whom had managed to pull of that stunningly difficult turn.
Laenor Velaryon was now in the lead, Seasmoke ahead even of Artys and Shaeterys. The look on my fiancé's face was baffled, amazed. He couldn't believe that he'd pulled off such a manoeuvre. Surprise turned into determination a heartbeat later though, and the Velaryon scion bent over his dragon, Seasmoke immediately pulling ahead, determined to maintain the lead.
All the way at the back of the line, Aerion's face was red with fury as he pushed Sunfyre harder than ever. Forward they went, overtaking his siblings one at a time, even if Sunfyre had to knock them aside to get ahead. Tessarion, in particular, was rammed so hard by Sunfyre that they went down in a tailspin, Daella screaming at the top of her lungs before the cobalt dragon was able to get her wings under her and halt their tumbling descent.
The glass candle I held was projecting the faces of all riders in the race, and for one moment, I could have sworn that I'd seen Maegelle's face turn reptilian, her teeth turning into vicious fangs as sharp yellow light shone from between slitted eyes. Maegelle flicked a hand at Aerion, whom promptly began seizing up.
The Dragonseed was twitching this was and that, arms flailing as he spasmed. Sunfyre too, was flying in a most erratic manner from Aerion's conflicting instructions, the rest of the riders mercilessly overtaking them and leaving them in the dust.
"Rhae?" Daenys asked, concern in her voice.
"Maegelle hijacked Aerion's reflex booster." I replied. "Turned it into a reflex scrambler from the looks of it. He'll be fine, I think."
"Unfortunate." Daenys muttered. "Should I… help him?"
I almost snickered at the sheer reluctance in Daenys' voice at the prospect of helping Aerion. From the sound of her tone, she'd rather see herself strapped into a dentist's chair for teeth extraction than aid Aerion in any way.
"Eh, the spell would wear off sooner or later." I shrugged. "There shouldn't be any lasting damage."
Daenys didn't say anything, but I could read the scepticism in her silence.
"Alright, I'm guessing." I conceded. "But I've got a knack for educated guesses, and am rarely wrong with those type of things."
Sceptical silence continued.
"And even if I'm wrong; it's Aerion. He's expendable." I dismissed.
Daenys giggled.
We left it at that, both of us turning our attentions to the race again. The racers had just finished the Lannisport turn, and it was now heading into the home stretch. Less than a mile of open air to the finish line, right at the very same field that they took off from.
As one, every single rider shot forwards, pouring on the speed with nothing held back. Dragonseeds stopped hindering one another as they all chased down the chequered flag, waved by a herald atop a tall wooden perch.
Seasmoke and Laenor were in the lead, both panting heavily as they kept speeding to the goal, Laenor hunched over his saddle as though he could urge Seasmoke to fly even just the slightest bit faster.
And hot on his heels were Shaeterys and Bell. Balefyre was by far not the fastest dragon, though it definitely took the crown where stamina was involved. It alone of all the dragons in the race today had the stamina to keep up a full all-out flight for a sustained period of time. Seasmoke and Artys had been pushed hard this race, and Nightfall and Daybreak even harder. The dragons were staring to tire out, slowing from the exhaustion. Balefyre on the other hand, seemed barely winded. The mint-coloured dragon was rapidly pulling ahead of the twins, and slowly but surely closing the gap between the leaders.
"This is gonna be close." Rhaegar muttered. "Come on, Shaeterys, you can do this."
"Go Laenor!" Laena cheered. "The Old, the True, the Brave!"
"Bell! You can do it!" Daenys called out in a surprising display of emotion. "Show those boys how it's done!"
"Hey! We're supposed to be impartial referees!" I chastised amusedly, watching the three of them shoot forwards.
Half a mile now. A third. A quarter. Four hundred yards. Three hundred yards.
Two hundred yards, and Laenor, Shaeterys and Bell were neck in neck, all straining towards the finish line. I raised my glass candle, prepared to perform a photo finish if I had to.
It turned out unnecessary in the end, for the winner won by a clear margin.
Shooting out from behind Shaeterys, whom he'd been drafting the entire race, the eleventh dragon pulled ahead with a burst of sudden speed, overtaking all three of the frontrunners in an instant and claiming victory.
———
Silence. That was all that I could hear.
There were no cheers, no boos, no gasps and no screams.
Just an all-defending silence, broken only by the panting of the dragons and the flaps of their wings, but even that seemed muted, muffled, as though a silencing spell had been laid onto everyone in the field.
In utter silence, Grey Ghost lowered it's head, allowing it's rider—the winner of the first dragon race since the Doom of Valyria two centuries ago— to dismount.
And before an entire crowd of thousands, smallfolk and lordlings alike, all crammed together to see a sight none had ever seen before in living memory, Erik Fyre raised his fist in triumph.
Notes:
Raise your hands, how many of you guys got blindsided?
If you read the last chapter carefully, you'll have noticed I only named 10 of the 11 racers participating, and Erik Fyre himself didn't get introduced during the fireside chat.