Rhaenys swept past her on Meleys, gave her a thumbs-up, then continued her dive.
Meleys's dragonfire was thicker and hotter than Acmot's, capable of setting an entire stretch of wall ablaze with a single breath.
King Ghidorah still circled above Harrenhal, his three heads taking turns unleashing their breath.
Golden Ray mainly destroyed the defenses atop the walls, while Frost Breath froze every soldier in sight and Blazing Dragonfire ignited the houses and barracks within the castle.
Blackflame now focused on the strongholds where soldiers were still trying to rally and resist. The Dragon flew so low it almost skimmed the walls, its dark red dragonfire carving burning swaths through Harlon Castle like the Grim Reaper's scythe.
The battle had lasted less than the time it took an incense stick to burn, yet Harrenhal was already riddled with holes.
The Scorpions and defensive works had all been destroyed, and nearly all the archers were dead or wounded. Most of the remaining soldiers could only hide in the castle's cellars, praying the Dragons would not discover them.
Tywin stood in the courtyard of Harlon Castle, gazing at the devastation before him, his face utterly expressionless.
After Kevan had commanded the second attack, they had known their cause was hopeless. The disparity was too great. Kevan had hurriedly dragged Tywin down from the walls, narrowly avoiding several attacks along the way.
"Brother." Seeing Tywin stop and stare blankly again, Kevan rushed over and grabbed his arm. "We must go," he urged. "Someone just reported finding a secret passage. We can use it to leave Harlon Castle."
"Leave?" Tywin shook his head and said calmly, "Where can we go now?"
"To the Westerlands. To Casterly Rock." Kevan tugged at his sleeve, but Tywin would not budge. "You said it yourself," he urged again.