The Final Battle at the Wall

Half a month later.

King's Landing, the Mud Gate.

"Siga—"

Several dragons soared overhead, roaring at one another as they played.

On the city wall,

a crimson dragon stood wreathed in a bloodthirsty aura, its sharp horns seeming ready to pierce the sky.

Baelor stared, dumbfounded. His lips worked soundlessly before he managed, "Ae-Aemon."

Across from him, a familiar figure rode the red dragon.

The face he had longed to see struck him harder than any reflection he had tried to conjure in the mirror. Tears filled his eyes.

"It's me."

Aemon grinned, his short silver-gold hair gleaming in the sunlight.

"Aemon!!"

Baelor could hold back no longer. Tears streaming down his face, he rushed forward.

Aemon's grin crumpled. He slid straight off the dragon's back and opened his arms, pulling Baelor into a tight embrace.

How long had it been?

The brothers were finally reunited. A thousand words could not match one embrace.

"Bet you never thought I'd come back."

Aemon secretly wiped away his tears and teased, "Big brother, you idiot. You're crying."

Thud!

Baelor punched him hard without warning. "You little bastard! If you were alive, why didn't you come back sooner?"

"Well, I'm back now."

Aemon rubbed his aching chest, then stepped aside to introduce the red dragon, Ursa Major.

Baelor recognized its lineage at once. "Dreamfyre's offspring! From the same clutch as Illygas and Stormcloud."

Just three days earlier, news had arrived from the Reach.

Their younger brother Aegon had ridden Illygas, the Bloodwing, into the battle at Oldtown and burned every Quells ship and everyone infected with Grey Scale Disease.

Oldtown was mustering a great army, preparing to enter Dorne through Prince's Pass and put down the rebellion.

With good news arriving one piece after another, Baelor eagerly shared it.

Hearing this, Aemon thumped