Visenya...
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High above the dark clouds, the winds were calm but the temperature was so cold that even Rhaegal did not seem to like it. There was barely any light, other than the stars shining in the distance but even their shine could not illuminate the darkness below them.
The roaring of dragons was echoing in the silent upper sky plane as Visenya held on to Rhaegal while in combat with the undead Viserion. The green dragon and her seemed to almost sync their thoughts and somehow, their teamwork allowed them to dodge even the riskiest of attacks.
More than once did the neon blue flames come too close and more than once did Rhaegal unleash his green-veined bright orange flames on his deceased brother.
However, he was getting tired and Visenya could sense that. His flying was becoming slower and it was not always easy for him to breathe fire as often as he should, to keep Viserion away.
Suddenly from below them, Viserion appeared as he flew straight up. His jaws were wide open and Rhaegal barely managed to move to the side, saving himself from that lethal blow.
His back legs spread forward in retaliation, trying to counter the next claw attack of the undead dragon. In the end, the two of them exchanged mutual hits before flying in different directions, with Viserion taking a U-turn and eventually being after them once again.
While hits had been landed on the undead dragon, things were not looking that good for Visenya and her dragon either. Unlike Viserion, the green scaly beast was losing blood and power...rather fast.
Viserion had only lost pieces of dead flesh from successful attacks coming from Rhaegal but there were no signs that the white dragon was getting tired or affected, despite bearing significant wounds.
Visenya cursed mentally, catching glimpses of the wounds existing on her dragon as they descended back into the clouds. She knew she had to act soon enough for Rhaegal would not be able to survive much longer.
"Just a little longer...please" she spoke to the dragon in High Valyrian, feeling guilty for the injuries it was suffering while trying to protect and help her defeat the ice dragon.
As they flew through the clouds, they tried their best to be on the move; hoping that their random patterns would allow them some head start and some distance from the dragon that was after them.
Her family sword, Dragon-Heart, felt heavy as it rested against her waist and Visenya gathered the courage to move one hand from the scales of Rhaegal on the leather-bound handle.
It had always offered her a sense of comfort and security, something she felt she needed now more than ever. She was becoming more and more certain of what she had to do then but firstly, she needed the perfect plan and opportunity to do so.
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Daenerys...
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Drogon kept flying closely above the battlefield, offering as much assistance as possible. However, often his flames were directed by his rear legs to ensure no undead ones would remain on him.
His bright orange with tints of black flames illuminated the battlefield, some soldiers cheering when Daenerys and her Dragon passed above them and helped take down the new undead ones.
When the dead had started to rise and the odds had turned against them, the Mother of Dragons knew her presence was needed more than ever. She could feel Drogon's pain, somehow, but the animal was as stubborn as her and kept going; despite the open wounds that left droplets of blood behind them.
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