Syrax's landing is nothing of graceful, matching her rider's haste to reach the ground. Even as you land with your own dragon, Rhaenyra is already off the back of Syrax and is striding over to the crumbled wing of her late son's dragon, Arrax.

"Rhaenyra, wait!" You call out, getting off the back of your own dragon. You know that if she sees this, it will cement her thirst of vengence in stone.

Your pleads fall on deaf ears however, as your wife is driven by grief and anger towards the grim sight. "Rhaenyra!" You call out again, running after her trying to catch up to prevent her from laying eyes properly on it

Syrax let's out pained whines too, as she too has lost a son by the maws of Vhagar, matching her rider's grief and internal anguish. You finally manage to catch up to Rhaenyra, grabbing her arm and holding her in place "Rhaenyra, think about this...." You plead, almost begging her not to look

She doesn't respond, she just stares at you with grief riddled eyes. The pain etched into her face like a permanent scar. She pulls away from your grip, you mutter a final please for her to stop

She falls to her knees by the ruined wing, pulling the fishing line from it, with a torn piece of cloak entangled in it. Luke's cloak. That is all that remains of your second son.

The air is filled with Rhaenyra's wails of sorrow and dispear, this has only confirmed her nightmares in which she wished to make up from. "My boy.... My sweet boy...." She sobs, as she clutches the torn fabric to her stomach