Chapter 112: Genetic Collapse
Gritting his teeth, Drogon suddenly spat out several teeth with a wet crack, blood mixed among them.
It wasn't just his teeth—he could even feel his eyeballs bulging. For a terrifying moment, he wondered if they might pop free and fall to the floor.
"Drogon! You… what's happening to you?!"
Drawn by his agonized roar, Daenerys rushed down from above.
She had been overjoyed moments ago at his awakening—only to be confronted with a nightmare.
The floor and walls of the Great Pyramid's hall were slick with blood. Drogon's massive body was bleeding everywhere; only his wings were spared the worst of it. A vast pool of blood had gathered beneath his chest.
Seeing Daenerys running toward him, Irri snapped back to her senses and hurriedly blocked her path.
She had witnessed with her own eyes how Drogon's tail had carved through solid stone moments earlier. With Drogon in such an unstable state, she dared not let Daenerys get close.
But Daenerys pushed forward regardless, desperate to see what was happening to him.
"ROAR!"
Drogon's thunderous bellow stopped her in her tracks.
No one understood his condition better than he did. He couldn't guarantee what he might do if the pain overwhelmed him. If he hurt his mother—he would regret it forever.
Daenerys froze, not out of fear for herself, but because she understood his intent. He didn't want her near him.
The moment he stopped her, another wave of agony tore through his body. With nowhere to vent it, Drogon slammed his head into the stone floor.
The impact echoed through the hall. Those rushing in from outside felt the entire pyramid tremble.
He had almost crashed into the wall instead—but forced himself to stop. One full-force blow might have torn the pyramid apart.
The collision brought no relief. Realizing he couldn't stay here any longer—lest he destroy everything—Drogon struggled to move.
Bracing himself with claws and wings alike, he dragged his body toward the great doors.
Now it wasn't just his muscles. Even his bones felt as though they no longer obeyed him. Every movement multiplied the pain tenfold, his body shuddering with each step.
Seeing him trying to leave, Daenerys ran after him, sobbing—only to be stopped again, this time by Tyrion and Missandei.
They were just as horrified by Drogon's suffering, but they understood: with his immense strength and current condition, the pyramid was the worst possible place for him.
Watching Drogon inch forward—each step wracked with pain—Daenerys collapsed to her knees, overcome with helpless grief. She would have given anything to bear his suffering in his stead.
Roooar!
Rhaegal and Viserion had long since heard Drogon's cries and were circling frantically above the pyramid.
At last, Drogon reached the doorway.
He turned his head and looked back at Daenerys, kneeling on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
He still didn't know what was happening to him. He didn't know if, after leaving now, he would ever see her again.
Seeing the longing in his eyes, Daenerys tore free from the hands holding her back and ran toward him.
Tyrion and Missandei saw that look too. They knew that if they stopped her again, they would face her wrath.
As Daenerys ran toward him, Drogon forced his battered body forward, beating his wings as he ran. Before she could reach him, he lifted himself into the air.
But he hadn't flown far when a searing pain exploded in his chest.
The flesh and scales along his ribcage burst open, bones forcing their way out. Torrents of blood poured forth, raining down from the sky.
Unable to keep his balance, Drogon spiraled and crashed downward.
Daenerys had just reached the pyramid's entrance when she saw him—blood streaking across the sky, his massive form plummeting.
Her vision went black. She nearly fainted.
"Guards! Hurry—go to Drogon!"
Knowing she was too far away, Daenerys shouted hoarsely, ordering the soldiers to reach him first.
All across Meereen, people had already seen Rhaegal and Viserion roaring in the sky.
They had also seen it—
The largest of the three dragons, many times bigger than the others, bleeding across the heavens as he fell.
They thought something external had injured Drogon—something that caused his wounds to burst open the moment he took to the air and sent him crashing down.
But the fall hadn't hurt him at all.
Even if it had, it would have been nothing compared to the devastation tearing through his body from within.
Staring at the bone spikes protruding from his chest, Drogon felt like crying without tears.
Who did I offend, he wondered bitterly, to deserve this kind of suffering?
Seeing the Unsullied cavalry racing toward him in the distance, he knew they couldn't help him. And letting his mother see him like this would only deepen her pain.
He was just about to force himself up and try to fly again when Rhaegal and Viserion descended from the sky.
They roared anxiously, pressing their heads hard against his body, trying with all their strength to shove him upright.
Hearing their cries and feeling their desperate effort, Drogon was stunned. He had trained those two relentlessly—pushed them hard, never sparing them—yet here they were, worrying about him without hesitation.
With their support, and biting back the searing pain in his chest, Drogon slowly struggled to his feet. He spread his wings, dug his claws into the ground, and took off once more.
From afar, seeing Drogon lifted into the air with Rhaegal and Viserion supporting him, Daenerys broke down completely.
She felt unbearably useless. Even Rhaegal and Viserion were doing more than she could. From the moment Drogon was born, he had always been the one protecting her, guiding her, helping her—while she had done nothing for him in return.
Now he was grievously wounded, and all she could do was watch helplessly as he forced himself away, terrified she might see how badly he was suffering.
Watching his unsteady figure disappear into the distance, Daenerys collapsed to the ground, sobbing.
"Your Grace!"
"Khaleesi!"
Missandei and Irri hurried to her side, speaking softly in an attempt to comfort her.
But Daenerys heard none of it. She sat there with her head lowered, crying silently.
"Send riders in the direction Drogon flew," Jorah ordered the Unsullied. "You must find him."
He had been training the new soldiers when Drogon's roar shook the city. He rushed over in time to see Drogon fall from the sky. After asking Tyrion what had happened, he learned that Drogon had slept for days—and awakened like this.
After crying for a long while, when Drogon was completely out of sight, Daenerys was finally helped back into the Great Pyramid by Missandei.
Drogon forced himself onward, flying out of Meereen and across the Skahazadhan River. Only then did his strength finally fail him, and he descended to the riverbank.
Rhaegal and Viserion landed beside him at once. Seeing the blood still pouring from his wounds, they circled him in panic—wanting to help, but not daring even to lick the injuries.
As the agony continued to tear through him, a terrifying thought surfaced in Drogon's mind:
Genetic collapse.
What else could explain this unbearable transformation?
He had thought he would die before even escaping Meereen.
That he had made it this far already felt like a miracle.