King's Landing 307 AC.
Varys.
He read over the reports that his little birds had gathered, content that they mostly contained good news. Almost every region in Westeros was happy with the new regime. The lords, ladies, and smallfolk alike all seemed to be fully behind their king, queen, and princess. Even their absence had raised no true questions or dissent. Varys more than pleased to read tales of their campaign in Essos being spoken of as a good and true thing and not a distraction or folly.
If it was not for the Stormlands, then there would almost be no need for his services. Something that though few may believe it, had actually always been his goal. A kingdom not needing a Master of Whisperers was one that thrived, but alas he doubted he'd know such a place before he breathed his last. Picking up the parchment and looking down at the words written on it, he sighed. It may have only been a slim hope that he'd held out for Sansa Stark, yet he was disappointed to see it come to naught all the same. He quickly gathered the rest of his correspondence relating to the former Queen in the North and the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. Then he rose to his feet and made his way from his chambers to the Tower of the Hand.
As he walked, he pondered on what actions they should take. It took some time for news of the king and queen's campaign in Essos to reach them and for any news they may wish to share with Aegon and Daenerys to do likewise, which in truth left this particular problem up to them to handle. It would not be Dragons and Dragonriders, a king wielding a sword of light, or Unsullied and Dothraki that Edric Storm would need to deal with. Instead it would be an army made up of men from Westeros and he'd yet to decide who it was that should lead that army. He wasn't even sure if it was up to him to do so.
"You're thinking too much," he muttered to himself as he began the long trek up the stairs that led to Davos' solar. His thoughts were still not resolved when he reached the door that led inside.
With a nod to the two guards on duty outside, he was announced and bid to enter. As usual, he found Davos busy at work. He'd thought the man to be much like Eddard Stark when it came to his duty, yet he'd found him to be much different from the stubborn wolf when it came to how he went about things. Taking a seat across from the older man, he waited until he was noticed and Davos had finished whatever it was that he was working on, and gladly accepted the wine when it was offered.
"The Stormlands?" Davos said as Varys sipped the cool wine.
"My expression gives me away. A dangerous thing for a Spider." he tittered to a chuckle from Davos.
"We've worked closely with each other for some time now, Varys. No doubt you'd be able to tell me what's on my mind were you to but look at me."
He nodded, as for all he tried to cover his emotions, Davos was at times an open book. Especially when it came to those he cared about. In that he was much like the king, Varys had found. Both men would sometimes wear their hearts on their sleeves and more often than not, it was when family or loved ones were being discussed.
"What has she done now?" Davos asked.
"Married him," he replied to an angered glare from the Hand of the Dragon.
"Is this a mummery?"
"No, apparently the wedding night was a loud and pleasurable one," he answered, his Little Bird having somehow known that he'd wish to know just what manner their coupling had taken.
"I understand this not." Davos sighed, Varys handing him the parchment with the list of who attended, what was said, and what he believed the plan to be "I had hoped she'd have learned her lesson. It seems it was a forlorn one."
"Some people never learn, Davos. Or they think themselves so very clever and the rest of us naught but fools."
"You think had they stayed…"
He shook his head, not allowing the man's thoughts to go where they might. Davos would never blame the king and queen for leaving for Essos and given what had happened in the North and in Dorne, they had been left with little choice. Given what had happened in Meereen, they'd truly been left with none. So he'd not blame them, but he would somehow find a way to blame himself for the treachery that Sansa Stark and Edric Storm were planning.
"I believe that if treason is in your heart, then you'll commit treason, Davos. Sansa Stark would never have been happy with her lot in life. Edric Storm is the worst of his father's family. The arrogance of Renly, the stubbornness of Stannis, and the sense of entitlement of Robert. He came back to be King of the Seven Kingdoms and to marry a Dragonqueen, and just like his father before him, he found that a Dragon had taken what he wished for."
"Yet you said nothing to their graces?" Davos asked, Varys happy there was no accusation in his tone when he did so. They'd come a long way in a short time together and he far preferred them being on the same side of things.
"His grace was well aware I think. Not the details mayhaps, but that in time he'd have to deal with them both once more."
"You think so," Davos said, not truly a question though Varys answered it anyway.
"I do."
They spoke then on what to do about it. A march to Storm's End was out of the question as the keep would not fall, not without dragons. So he listened as Davos spoke of a plan that was both bold and dangerous at the same time. With a nod of his head to signal his agreement, he rose to his feet and made ready for the Small Council meeting that they'd now hold so as to discuss things further.
He received more songs from his Little Birds by the time the meeting took place. Entreaties had been sent from Storm's End to the Lords of the Vale, Lord Edmure Tully, and to some other Houses that Edric Storm believed he could bring to his side. Varys though feared these words not. For other than a House of Fools, none would join with them in their folly. Not even with the king, queen, their armies, and their dragons far from their shores.
Aegon and Daenerys had won over the Reach completely, Dorne too, The North was now under the control of Arya Stark and she'd gut her sister before betraying her brother. Edmure Tully had already seen enough of Sansa Stark for a lifetime and he'd not sought to join with her when she'd spouted a tale of unfavorable treatment. He'd certainly not side with her now that he knew the truth about his niece. As for the Vale, Lady Anya too had dealt with Sansa Stark and neither she nor Edric Storm would find any friends there. The Crowlands, the Lords of the Narrow Sea, the Iron Islands, not a single one would come when called by the Lord of Storms and his Fishwife. Other than the West, Varys was certain of the support of every single kingdom that had named the dragons their lieges. Entering the Small Council chambers, he'd find out soon enough if the West too was only theirs to call upon.
"A rushed meeting, Lord Hand?" Daven Lannister said as he took his seat.
"There is much to discuss, Lord Daven," Davos said as he brought the meeting to a start.
Strolling through the Red Keep after the meeting was over and done with, Varys bore a half smirk on his face. He'd looked into the eyes of Daven Lannister and believed the outrage he'd seen there and heard in his words was true. Now it was time to bait the trap and to do that, he'd need to become what he'd once been before. A shadow, a wraith, a whisper on the wind. He took his time to walk to his rooms, then hurried once he reached them. His clothing was quickly discarded and within the hour, he was scurrying through the tunnels beneath the Red Keep and making his way to the docks.
A day and a half later and he was on Dragonstone. The ravens were to be sent from here and not from King's Landing. While he'd not seen any spies connected to Edric Storm or yet taken the time to root them out if they were truly there, he believed there to be some at least. It was time to use those spies against them and so as he wrote the message to Lord Leyton, to Lady Tarly, and to others in the Reach, and as he tied the ones for the Lord of the Vale to the raven's legs, he felt his heart begin to race. They'd found their commander in the king's absence, a warrior of both renown and note. Lord Daven had practically volunteered and not a single member of the Small Council had questioned it. Still, he'd take no chances, brook no disappointment, and do all he could to ensure their victory was ensured.
"Let the great game begin once more," he said as the last raven flew. By the next morning's tide, Varys was sailing once more.
The Battle of Qohor 307 AC.
Lady Malora.
They were some distance from the battle itself. She, the princess, Missandei, Tormund Giantsbane, and Ser Brienne along with more than a thousand men at arms. Less than two miles from where they had set up camp, boats now lay in wait to take them as far from here as they could. In a slightly different direction, but again no more than two miles away, two hundred men and horses awaited them ready to ride and ride hard as they escaped whatever danger they may find themselves in. Malora knew though that it wouldn't be by horse or boat that the princess would be taken from these lands if the need arise. No, should things go badly then it would be on the back of a dragon that Rhaella would find herself.
Whether or not that dragon was flown by her mother or her aunt was a question that not even the gods themselves could answer. She supposed if the worst truly happened then it could even be her father who took the princess to safety. Though she could truly not conceive of any scenario that would lead to Aegon leaving his men to fight alone. Not even to save his daughter would she wager he'd do so. She'd just not wager too much on it.
Aegon and Daenerys had made as many plans for the princess's escape as they had for the battle ahead. In truth, they had needed to, Aegon especially. The queen had confided in both her and Lady Kinvara that he had needed to do so or else he'd not have been able to concentrate on the fight to come. That more than anything in the world, the thoughts of their daughter being in danger threatened to steal all his will from him. It was not the only doubt that he and the queen had in regards to the young princess either and nothing that his Malora, Kinvara, or even his sister said would be enough to remove those particular doubts. For they were ones brought on by the losses that both he and the queen had suffered during Robert's Rebellion. Doubts brought on by the thoughts of Rhaella growing up without knowing the true love of a father or mother.
Watching them say goodbye to the young princess had been hard for all of them to see. While both Aegon and Daenerys truly believed they'd win the day and end the threat that Belicho Staegone, the newly christened Bloodstone Emperor Reborn, posed to the world at large, they were parents saying what could well be the last goodbye to their only child. Not a single one of those who had offered counsel, advice, warm words, or a sharp blade to aid them in the fight to come had been able to look at the farewells and not feel something deep within their hearts. A family, for that was all they were in truth, and one she prayed would soon be reunited.
" Have things changed with what you've seen, my lady?" Aegon asked after he'd taken a moment to compose himself, his wife doing likewise while Rhaella, Ghost, and Lyarhaex played without a care in the world behind them.
" No, my prince. The army awaits and I see none more than they."
" You'll watch?"
" I'll know, my prince. Should the need arise I'll not falter."
" I thank you, my lady. For all you've done or may still do."
" Beat him, my prince. Beat him and come back to your daughter, that is all the thanks I need."
With that, Aegon seemed to change. A resolve came over him and it was one that she most welcomed seeing, as she knew did both those he was leaving to protect his daughter and those he would soon be leading into battle. Daenerys when she came to speak to her, did so not as a queen but as a mother. Her words were more on her daughter than on the fight to come.
" Missandei will keep her busy, Lady Malora, though I'd ask you to help if you could. If she's playing and amused she'll not even notice what happens today and while her safety is above all else, I'd wish for her to know of this battle only in the years to come and in the tales Aegon and I tell her of it."
" I will, my queen."
" I thank you for being with her, it means much to me to know she has you." Daenerys reached out her hand and touched her own softly before she then turned and walked to her husband.
Malora was under no mistaken belief that she was the one that Aegon or Daenerys put most faith in when it came to their daughter's safety or happiness. That honor belonged equally to Tormund Giantsbane and Missandei. Both of whom would act in the king and queen's stead. It'd belong to Princess Rhaenys should things go badly and it would belong to Ghost and Lyarhaex. For the princess would have no better protectors than the White Wolf and the Red Dragon.
As Drogon and Rhaegal landed, final words were spoken between the queen and the young scribe. The hug between them was one that showed just how close they truly were and Malora wondered if it had been the gods' work to have Daenerys and Missandei's paths cross. Looking to where Aegon and Tormund embraced like true brothers, she knew that with them it had been. Almost too soon and leaving behind an absence that was felt by one and all, the dragons were mounted and then took to the sky. Malora was not alone in looking at them as they flew to a fate she knew not. As she turned and saw Rhaella seem to wave to them both, she prayed she'd see them reunited sooner rather than later.
"In this world and not the next, I beg of you," she said softly as Missandei picked Rhaella up from the ground and she, Tormund, and Ser Brienne, followed closely behind by Ghost, made their way into the tent.
Lady Kinvara.
She stood in line with the Fiery Hand. A thousand men along with her and a number of their most powerful priests and priestesses. The loud roars of Drogon, Rhaegal, and Balerion soon resounded and though the Fiery Hand nor her followers cheered, they did welcome them just as truly as those who did. When Lightbringer was unsheathed, she felt hope build within her chest. As it always did upon seeing the truth of her god's majesty with her own eyes.
Dragons were fire made flesh and for the longest time, she'd believed them to be her god's greatest gift to the world. Seeing the sword as it illuminated the path before it and chased the night away, had not only challenged that belief, it had shattered it. For the night was dark and full of terrors and yet she and those who followed R'hllor had walked in his light. This was not just a saying that she and her fellow priests, priestesses, and warriors of the light spoke idly. It was something that they believed with all their hearts. To see that light in a true and corporeal form, especially on this darkest of dark nights was faith-affirming.
Kinvara looked on as the three dragons landed just in front of their lines. Their army was the largest ever assembled. Made up mainly of men of Westeros, it had been joined however by the Tiger Cloaks of Volantis and other men of Essos, the Fiery Hand amongst them. She believed it was larger if not just as large as the army they faced and it would need to be. Armed with fire, Dragonglass, and supported by catapults and trebuchets, they had done all they could to prepare themselves for the threat they now faced. As she looked to the Princess, to the Queen, and to the Prince that was Promised, Kinvara smiled. The three heads of the dragon had been united, at last, surely R'hllor had gifted them all they needed.
"Men of Westeros, of Essos. We came to these lands not to fight a battle and war that each of us already believed we had won, but to free those who were held by chains against their will." Aegon began.
His voice was loud as it rang out across what may look like an open and empty field but was very much not.
"Yet this is the battle and war we now find ourselves in. Our enemy seeks to enslave each and every one of us. Not with chains to bind us, but in the never relenting grip of living death. Some of you have seen what that looks like as you fought with us in Winterfell. Some have seen it in Qarth. Today, you'll see it just as truly and it'll be just as horrifying. Today we fight not just for ourselves but for each and every man, woman, and child in Essos. In Westeros. Even in lands that none of us have seen or know much about.
We fight and there is only one thing we need to know about the fight to come. We win or we die."
She and every single man and woman that was lined up, now all looked on as Aegon walked to his sister and embraced her. Lightbringer allowed them all to see clearly as he kissed Rhaenys on the cheek and spoke softly to her before then moving to his wife. Daenerys and he shared a lover's kiss. The kiss of a husband and wife and to Kinvara's eyes, it was a kiss full of promise. The promise of what was to come next and that for some reason, truly made her hopeful.
Aegon then moved to Jaime Lannister and embraced the man like a true friend and not simply a member of his Dragonguard. He did the same to Jon Connington and to Ned Dayne. Meanwhile, the princess moved to her husband, and she and he then shared a kiss that was most similar to the one her brother had shared with his wife. Daenerys moved to Ser Jorah Mormont and Grey Worm and it was as Kinvara was looking at the sight of their embrace, that Aegon made his way to her side.
"My lady, I thank you for all of it. For all you've done, for me, for my wife, for each and every single one of us. R'hllor could not have had a better servant than you, Lady Kinvara. I am most thankful for it."
"I… my prince.." she said, her emotions almost too much for her.
"I am here because of R'hllor and the Old Gods, Lady Kinvara. I may kneel to the one but I forget not what the other has gifted me. If we indeed walk in his favor then this battle will end it all. I believe we do."
"As do I, my prince," she said truthfully.
A moment later it was the queen and she, much to her shock, was embraced by the smaller woman. Then so quickly that she would almost believe that she'd not been by her side just a moment earlier, Daenerys stood by her husband and Goodsister's side once more.
"I pray to the gods of my mother. To the Old Gods to see me through this day. I pray to R'hllor, to the God of Light and Shadow, that he'll continue to help us bring light where there is naught but darkness. I thank each and every one of you and owe you all more than I could ever repay and I vow but this."
There was a pause as Aegon bowed his head slightly, then he raised it again and she and the rest of the army looked on as Lightbringer was pointed forward. Its light shined and illuminated a path from where they stood, to far off in the distance. It showed the first sign of the things they would soon be fighting against and she imagined if you were to look down on it from above, then it was a truly wondrous sight. Seeing it from her vantage point, she'd name it as one regardless.
"Our enemy is no match for us. He seeks to bathe the world in darkness. We are the Warriors of the Light. We brought the Dawn to Westeros. Today we will Bring the Dawn to Essos too. This is not the day we die. THIS IS THE DAY WE SHINE!" Aegon said as Lightbringer lit up and the world for a brief moment was a world of light once more.
Arianne.
She and Daemon had spent the previous night together. Neither of them was willing to sleep and yet, in the end, they'd been too tired not to. They'd exhausted themselves with each other. Arianne had been unable to let go of the idea that this could be the last night they shared together and so she'd been even more hungry for him than usual. At one point, they'd argued extensively over the fact that he would, along with Ned Dayne, lead their armies in the fight to come. Her fears and worries for him not allowing her to see that it had to be so.
Daemon was to be her Prince Consort. Had this damn war not needed to be fought and had Quentyn not taken Dorne from her, then he already would be. It had been her plan after all. To return to Dorne and claim her birthright and then marry the man she loved. The gods however laugh at those who dare make such plans and so it was to a battle with her brother and then one with things that made her shudder to even think about, that she found herself and Daemon facing.
Her mother had suggested that she and Daemon wed each other here as her cousin had done with Ned Dayne. That they do so in front of their army and allow that to be something that gave their men extra hope and incentive. Yet Arianne could not agree to that. It had to be in Dorne and for her wedding there needed to be a huge celebration. Not in truth for her or for Daemon, though she'd not lie and say the thoughts of such a wedding didn't fill her with joy, for her people. After all they'd been through, they needed this as much as Arianne or Daemon wanted it and so she'd told her mother so. Now she was beginning to wish she'd not and had instead just done as had been suggested.
"A light princess." one of her guards shouted out, his words taking her from her thoughts and she and her mother hurried to the front of the tent.
They had to shield their eyes somewhat. The darkness that they'd known these past days had made them sensitive to anything other than candles or torchlight. Looking to where her guard pointed, she saw the whole sky was illuminated with the brightest light she'd seen since night had fallen. Lightbringer was in full effect and it was an awe-inspiring sight.
Each of them had seen King Aegon wield the sword as he led from the front. Be it on Dragonback, Horseback, or On the lead ship. They'd welcomed the light that guided their way and on some of the nights, as they camped, they'd looked to the sky to see Rhaegal and the king fly over their heads, Lightbringer shining down upon them as they did so. Never had they seen it shine as brightly as it did now and she felt some of her worries and fears begin to subside.
"The fight has begun then." her mother said and Arianne nodded nervously, the thoughts that Daemon was truly in that fight were not ones she wished to ponder on for too long.
It had been agreed that they'd camp close to the river and that there would be a boat at the ready to take them far from here. She, her mother, and a hundred guards, which was all she was willing to spare, all now looked off to where the battle for their very survival was taking place. Arianne was under no illusions about what would happen should they lose. Any escape that she may make from this place would be but a temporary one. Even should she manage to make it back to Dorne, something she very much doubted would happen, she'd only be delaying the inevitable.
Eventually, the darkness would reach there too and while she took some comfort in knowing that the never-ending night only affected these lands, should they lose, that would no longer hold as true. Closing her eyes, she offered up a prayer for the king, queen, and her cousin. Rhaenys had somehow managed to survive and Arianne so wished to believe it was not so she could fall her today. She prayed for her men and for Ned Dayne. The young lord was now kin to her by marriage and he'd proved himself to be a man she could trust. Lastly, she offered up a prayer for her love, she begged the gods to not be cruel enough to take him from her and to allow her to grow old with Daemon by her side.
"We must make ready, Arianne. In the event things turn out badly." her mother said and Arianne shook her head, a feeling coming over her that she couldn't quite explain and a smile coming to her face unbidden.
"We will win this day, mother. Daemon will return," she said before she turned and entered her tent, her mood greatly improved and the sound of the woman's voice was finally heard now for true.
They had answered her, or one of them had at least and as she sat down on her soft cushion, she closed her eyes and allowed only the voice to be heard.
" I forget not my people, Arianne Nymeros Martell. For I am Mother to you all. This is not the day they, you, or your love meet their ends. For my people and their princess have much more to do." Mother Rhoyne or who she believed the voice to belong to, said.
Rhaenys.
She took up her position on the left flank. Behind her, Ned and Ser Daemon Sand led the Dornish forces and she knew they took comfort in having a dragon lead them in the fight to come. Off far in the distance to her right, Daenerys too had taken up her position in front of her own men. Dothraki and Unsullied who'd known what it was like to charge into battle under a dragon's protection. In the sky above, she could see Aegon and Rhaegal. The light from his sword was dimmer now as he faced their army and as Rhaegal landed half the distance from her and Daenerys.
Her brother had given a speech that had stirred the men's spirits as well as her own. Yet she knew that more than anything he'd said, it was the fact he led them and wielded Lightbringer that truly allowed for their courage not to falter. She awaited the signal and looked not at Aegon or Daenerys or even at where she was certain that Ned stood. Instead, she looked far behind their lines to where her niece was being guarded and tried her best to fix the position in her head. She'd made her brother a promise and it was one that while she hoped she'd not need to keep to, she would certainly live up to if needed.
The loud roar of Rhaegal focused all attention on the green dragon. Lightbringer now once again faced forward and its light shined far more brightly. She could see the enemy, their lines, their makeup, and it sent a shiver down her spine to see dead things that yet moved. Then a second roar rang out, this one even louder than the green dragon's, though further away and so she bid Balerion shout out a response. After the blue dragon had done so, all three of them took to the sky as one and the army formed its lines even more truly.
They'd not charge the enemy. Not seek to break their lines. Patience and preparation were the keys to victory and so while their army awaited the dead's ranks to reach it, the dragons set about thinning down those ranks. Balerion flew as fast as he'd ever done. His wings were almost a blur even to her as she looked back at them. Lightbringer flickered, then lit up even more brightly, and the full truth of what they were facing was finally revealed to her.
"By the Gods," she said shakily as line upon line of the dead as far as the eye can see now came into view.
She felt something stir deep within her. A wave of anger and even hatred that she'd not felt before. These things wished to harm her family. They wished to take her Goodsister from the world, her niece, her brother. They wished to take her love from her and see her dead and they wanted to enslave them all, her dragon too.
"Dracarys!" she cried out and Balerion answered with a wave of fire that he unleashed on the dead below.
"Dracarys," she called out once more, and again the blue dragon did as she bid.
The flames that burned beneath her were matched by many more to her right. Rhaegal and Drogon had let loose their own flames and the dead beneath them were no true match for the dragons above. As they passed over the dead's lines and unleashed another wave of fire, she felt almost invincible. So much so that had Balerion not turned to one side, then she'd not have understood what had just happened.
" I know not how these things work, Rhae. The dead here seem different than the ones we faced in the North, though I feel that fire, Dragonglass, and Valyrian steel will work just as well on them as it did the Wights. Yet their masters, I know not if they exist other than Belicho, but if they do, then even on the dragons we must be wary."
" Wary of what, Egg?"
" Spears, Rhae. The White Walkers used spears of Ice. It was what cost us Viserion." Aegon said, sadly.
" I'll be watchful, Egg. I'll not lose Balerion," she said determinedly.
Cursing herself for not living up to her word, she thanked the gods that Balerion had been clever enough to do so for himself. She, Daenerys, and Aegon had spoken to the dragons about the danger they may face. Even Lyarhaex who would be far from the battle itself had been present when they'd done so and she believed that the dragons themselves may have shared their fears about the dangers of such weapons. If so, then it had protected Balerion far more than she had and so she begged his forgiveness and tried not to laugh at the snort of hot air that came from his snout.
The lines beneath them had broken and the dead no longer waited on their fate. They charged now towards their own army and so after two more passes over the lines that had yet to break, Rhaenys bid Balerion give chase. It was the ones at the back of the charging mass that they ended with their flames. Those in the front would reach their lines and face their own ends at the hands of those who awaited them. Turning her head to see where Aegon and Daenerys were, she was surprised to see only one of the dragons flying in the same direction as Balerion and her. Rhaegal was still at the front of the lines and even seemed to be further behind them than ever.
"What are you doing, Aegon? What is your plan?" she asked the wind "I trust you, brother." she said softly as she turned her head back to the battle in front of her.
"Dracarys," she called out and again Balerion let loose his flames.
Jaime Lannister.
This was a true battle, as had been the one in Winterfell. For some of those with him, it was their first true battle and so he and those who'd fought to Bring the Dawn would be their guides here today. In the sky above them all, three dragons laid down their flames and it was the light from those fires and from Lightbringer that showed them the truth of what they were facing. Jaime would be a liar if he said that he'd hoped not to have to face such things again. Or that he wished it would be just as it was in Qarth and that the king and Lightbringer would work whatever magic they possessed. Unfortunately today, just like in the Battle of Winterfell, they faced a thing of magic too.
With Widow's Wail raised, Jaime looked to the archers. Calling out the order for the flames to be lit, he then readied to give the order to fire. Ahead of them and across the field, the dead had begun to charge yet they still had some distance to cover. The wait felt far too short and so once he was sure they were in range, he gave the order.
"Nock."
"Aim."
"Loose."
The flaming arrows filled the night's sky and his eyes followed them as they flew through the air. More than half hit their targets and those that missed still set fire to the ground which then took hold of more of the dead.
"Nock."
"Aim."
"Loose."
Again the arrows flew and again they stuck home. This time hitting even more of the dead that charged their way. He repeated the order again, then again. The fourth time the arrows flew with even more precision. Their archers had found their range and their targets were plentiful. Jaime would wager that only a handful didn't hit home and those who were struck by the flaming arrows were soon ablaze. They were not alone in their burning.
The dragons had been as relentless as their archers. Drogon far to the left of him, Balerion to the right, and Rhaegal directly in front of him. He heard the chanting of the red priests and then the world was alight as swords, spears, and weapons of every sort lit up and burst into flames. In his hand, Widow's Wail may as well have been one of Thoros of Myr's flaming swords and yet he felt no heat from the fire that burned along the Valyrian Steel blade.
He heard the sound of the Unsullied's shields being brought to bear and so shouted out the order for their own. Spears were pushed over the top of the shields and as he called out the order, the catapults let loose their balls of pitch and shattered Dragonglass. As in the Battle of Winterfell, the effect was incredible to see. Those lucky enough to escape the flames found little respite from the small pieces of shattered volcanic glass. They fell and were quickly replaced by more dead things and Jaime readied himself to brace against the impact of them crashing against the shields.
"HOLD!"
"HOLD!"
The sound was like thunder and the impact knocked him and those holding the shields back more than a foot or two. Yet they held. Their lines stayed as one and the attack had not broken them. Would that was the end of it and that the dead, like the living, would regroup and attack again. That however was not their way. Instead, they clawed, squealed, stabbed out, and even as they fell, they took more than one of his men with them.
"SPEARS!"
"SPEARS!"
Jaime knew that down the line to his left, the Unsullied were wielding their spears as if they had been born with them in their hands. None could match them, though today at least, his own men and the men of Dorne to his far right, did their very best to. The spears were thrust forward again and again. Their Dragonglass tips ended any dead thing they touched and the flames they were covered in, quickly caught alight and set ablaze any they missed.
He thrust out Widow's Wail and slashed it right and left. As with the spears, any dead thing unlucky enough to find itself cut by Valyrian steel fell immediately. Any who avoided it found the flames that covered it were not so easy to move away from. Though mayhap the dead just never even tried to move away from them, he thought darkly.
A Loud roar rang out and he looked to the sky to see the king, Lightbringer shining brightly in his hand, lead Rhaegal to the back of their lines. Another roar saw the green dragon now fly over their heads and once it had cleared them, the flames were loosed once more. Jaime felt the heat from where he stood and watched as the dead who'd been caught by the flames, all but exploded in front of him. It relieved the pressure on their lines and allowed them to form a truer shield wall. This one would be much harder to break and though he knew Aegon could not see him, he nodded his head in thanks regardless.
Moving away from the lines, he bid the archers line up once more.
"Nock."
"Aim."
"Loose."
Again the sky was filled with flaming arrows and as he looked down the lines, he saw the Dornish and the Unsullied were doing as he was. Grey Worm, Ser Jorah, Ser Daemon Sand, and Ned Dayne, were good and true men to fight alongside. Should this be his last day, then it would be one he was proud of.
"Nock."
"Aim."
"Loose."
He called out one more time before the air turned cold, the wind picked up, and the arrows that flew in the sky did so with their flames extinguished. When he looked to Widow's Wail, he saw that it too had lost its flame and so he raced to the front of the lines once more. To his great relief, the dragons still flew and still laid down their fire and Lightbringer shone as truly as ever. To his horror, tall thin icy covered figures now moved across the ground in front of him and though they were not quite the White Shadows of the North, he'd name them as White Walkers too.
"Take them down!"
"Aim at the White Walkers."
His words rang around and he readied himself for the fight that he knew was to come. A fight he was unsure he'd see the end of.
Grey Worm.
His queen and Drogon led the way from the sky while he, the Unsullied, and Ser Jorah Mormont did the same from the ground. With spear and shield, they held the line when the attack finally came. Behind them, the Dothraki fired arrows from atop their horses and for a while at least, the dead were no match for any of them. Grey Worm knew that at some point that may change and the fight could become much harder. He knew too that at some point the Dothraki would ride and ride hard and the dead would suffer greatly because of it. What he didn't know was which would happen first.
To his left, he could see Jaime Lannister and Jon Connington lead the king's men. While further down the line, the princess' husband Ned Dayne and Ser Daemon Sand led the men of Dorne. Far back from the lines, Missandei was safe with the princess and her guards. Just knowing that was so had allowed him to concentrate on playing his own part in the battle here today. Thrusting his spear forward as he had been trained to do, he barely felt it when it made contact with the dead flesh of the things that attacked his lines. It had become routine to him. Shield held in front of him, spear moving back and forth, back and forth, and the dead falling one by one.
When he or any in the front lines tired, they were quickly replaced by the next line of men behind them. They did this with an easy practice. Waiting for just the right moment so that the line would remain unbroken and the momentum never swung from them to their enemies. He heard the loud calls for arrows to be fired from the king's men that were nearest to him. Jon Connington on horseback as he rode down the back of those lines and shouted out his orders while at the front of them, Jaime Lannister did likewise. He doubted it was the same with the Dornish lines as both Ned Dayne and Daemon Sand would, he wagered, be as he was, at the front of them.
A quick glance to the Dothraki when he saw the arrows fly no more, showed them to be making their way to ready for their charge, and though it was not something he did much of, he smirked happily at the sight. Before they could do so, however, he felt the chill in the air and moved back to the front of the line so that he could get a better view. There were more of them than he had expected, but he had expected them.
"Se timpa tolīmorghon, gūrogon zirȳ ilagon!" (The White Ghosts, take them down!) he shouted loudly and short spears were handed to those who knew how best to use them. While behind him, some Dothraki now held their positions and lined up their shots.
The queen and Drogon picked that very moment to fly close to them and lay down their flames. Any dead unlucky enough to be in their direct path were simply eviscerated by them. Yet that was not truly his queen's intent and this time, Grey Worm smiled far more truly. In doing what she'd just done, his queen had lit the ground ablaze and as the dead burned, their masters were now truly revealed to him.
"PERZYS!" (Fire!) he called out loudly.
Behind him, the arrows were let loose first. They flew so low over his and his men's heads that Grey Worm felt the wind from them as they did so. He watched their flight with the aid of the light from the burning fires in front of him. Saw them as some hit home and some were dodged or blocked by the White Ghosts who'd realized the danger of their situation. They'd not be so lucky with the spears he believed.
As soon as the arrows had begun to strike their targets, the spears then flew. Most if not all seemed to land where they'd been aimed. One of two of them had been lit alight and allowed an even more clear view of what they faced. Grey Worm now found to his dismay that there were still many more of the White Ghosts moving toward him and his men.
"PERZYS" (FIRE)he called out again and again arrows and spears flew through the air. These ones though were far less successful than the last.
Knowing now that the true fight was upon them, he looked to his men and called out one more order.
"Egrio se sumby, ōregon se qogron!" (Spear and Shield, Hold the Line!)
As one, his men did as they were bid and behind him, the Dothraki had now all departed. Replacing his spear with his short sword, he looked along his lines as more than one of his men did likewise. Then he waited for the White Ghosts to reach their lines and tried not to think of those he was about to lose. For he was under no illusions that unlike against the dead, to hold the line now would be far more costly.
Again his queen and Drogon flew towards them. The loud roar of the black dragon reverberated through their lines and beyond. It filled his men with a resolve that nothing had ever come close to before. Not their training, their discipline, or their sheer will to win. Their faith in their queen was what truly brought them strength and as Drogon loosed his flames on the White Ghosts, he and the men with short swords charged forward.
Some of their opponents were caught by surprise. The dragon's flames had landed close to them and while they were unharmed by the fire, it had shielded Grey Worm and his men's movements from them. While a few had recovered more quickly and readied themselves to fight, those who had not had then fallen to a short sword, and behind them, the dead fell too.
Their swords were tinged with Dragonglass. The smiths had somehow infused it into the metal itself. On the front of their small round shields, a spike protruded that was as long as any dagger. It too was steel tinged with Dragonglass, its tip almost made entirely of the dark and magical stone. The larger full shields that they used to make up their shield wall had many of those tips, the smaller round shields they used to fight one on one, only the one. As he now fought against one of the White Ghosts, he did so using both the sword in his hand and the shield in his other. Grey Worm caring not which one would win him the day, as long as the day was won.
His men didn't cheer when their opponent fell, for that was not their way. They simply moved on to the next opponent and began the fight anew and that was exactly what he did when the White Ghost fell. To the next one and the one after. As yet another fell, he looked to those with him, seeing more than he expected to be still standing and yet fewer than he hoped, and he began to sense their victory was close. Taking down yet another White Ghost, he heard a strange sound as he caught his breath. So he looked to see what seemed to be thousands of shapes moving across the open field. It took him some time to understand what it was he was looking at, then but a moment to order his men back to the lines.
"Naejot egrio se sumby!" (To Spear and shield!) he called out for the Unsullied did not know a word for retreat.
To his relief, his order was heard by one and all and they made it back to their lines before the dead animals could reach them. He heard the sound of the larger shields being placed in front of them and felt it as his men braced for the impact that the dead animals would soon bring to bear against them. Then once again he heard Drogon's roar, this time answered by two more. He looked on as all three dragons loosed their flames on the dead things below and it was a glorious sight to see. Then he heard the thunder as the horses began to ride, saw it as the Arakhs lit up and the Dothraki, along with knights led by Jon Connington, finally charged into the fray.
"Naejot ērinnon se jaqiarzir, iā naejot morghon!" (To victory and glory, or to death!) he said repeating the words that he'd heard Jon Connington say.
Ned Dayne.
Dawn swung and another dead thing fell. Yet they still kept coming. Balerion loosed his flames and atop him, his wife never tired nor ceased her attacks and yet they still kept coming. He could see the other two dragons in the distance, Drogon with the queen and Rhaegal and the king, Lightbringer in hand, and yet they still kept coming. No matter how many fell, their numbers appeared to be inexhaustible, and yet Ned was certain that was not true.
So he looked for any sign that they were first having any effect at all and second were actually winning this fight. It took him a long time to see either. The moments of respite, the pauses between when each wave of the dead attacked their lines, began to become longer and it showed that they weren't facing an enemy of an infinite number. Then the winds blew and the air chilled and he took it as a sign that they were winning. For up to now the White Walkers had remained unseen.
Looking along the lines, he could see that his men weren't the only ones readying for the new threat they were about to face. Jaime Lannister, Jon Connington, further down Grey Worm, and Ser Jorah Mormont, they'd faced this before and so had most of those they led here today. As had his king and queen. So as it had been since he'd first met her, it was to Rhaenys that his eyes now turned. She like some of the men of Dorne had yet to face this threat and he prayed that Aegon and his own words to her had been listened to.
Seeing the first spear flying Balerion's way, he held his breath and then smiled when as if it was nothing at all, the blue dragon simply dodged out of its way. As it did the next one that dared come near them. A loosing of a wave of flame later and though the White Walker who had tried to take them from the sky would remain unharmed, the message sent by his wife would be heard loudly and clearly. Closing his eyes, Ned could almost hear the words spoken in Rhaenys' voice as if he was atop Balerion with her.
" I fear you not."
He opened his eyes to see the White Walkers were now in sight. Far more of them than he'd expected. Looking down the lines, he was happy to see that the best warriors amongst them now moved forward with their guards. It had been his own little contribution to the makeup of their army and something that Ser Daemon had only been too happy to help with.
Against a simple soldier, a White Walker was probably unmatched. Even against more than one, this was a truth they couldn't deny. They'd cut through their lines like a knife through butter and then the dead would follow. Yet there had been men amongst their ranks who'd beaten them in the North. Jaime Lannister, Grey Worm, and Jorah Mormont were amongst them, and Ned knew that he was a better sword than any of them. He too had taken down one of the White Shadows and he believed that Daemon was like to manage it too.
So he'd sought out the very best sword, spear, ax, halberd, or Morningstar-wielding warrior amongst his ranks. He'd tested them, challenged them and once he was certain, he'd armed them. Ned had placed guards with them to see to any dead that sought their ends while they sought the ends of their masters. Now the truth or folly of all of that preparation was soon to be shown. So as the White Walkers closed the gap to their lines, his Warriors for the Dawn, stepped forward. With a nod to Ser Daemon, Ned held Dawn in his hand and readied for the fight to come. Then he offered a small prayer that he, the knight who'd be his Prince Consort, and his men would one day laugh and jape and tell tall tales of this day.
"FOR THE PRINCESS!" He shouted out and though some would take it to mean Arianne, something clear by how firmly Daemon repeated his words, it was a different princess that he fought for here today.
It took him no time at all to find himself in a fight to the death. Dawn's milky white blade against the icy one of the thing in front of him. There was something different about this compared to the one he'd seen in Winterfell. Something lesser to his eye. Where the one in the North was hauntingly beautiful in a way, this one was very much not. It seemed ugly to him, corrupted even more so than the other, and for some reason, that made his blows that much firmer.
As skilled as the others it may well be, yet Ned felt he had its measure. Something that he proved far more quickly than he expected after a simple dodge, then parry, and finally, a thrust ended his opponent in an explosion of ice. Not waiting to congratulate himself on his victory, Ned quickly moved on to the next White Walker that he saw. A quick glance at the other fights that were taking place showed that all his efforts had not been for naught. The guards he'd given the warriors had done as he had wished for them to do. They fought off any dead thing that tried to interfere in the truer fight that was taking place. While the warriors themselves proved more than capable and up to the task he'd set them.
After taking down his second White Walker, he saw three of them move to where Daemon stood alone. Hurrying to offer him aid, he was joined by a man of House Yronwod who bore a Morningstar in his hands. Three against one quickly became an even fight and Ned took down his third White Walker of the day. There was no need for him to take down a fourth or a fifth as Daemon and the man from House Yronwood, soon made light work of their own foes.
"Is that it? I had expected more." their new companion japed.
"Your name, Ser?" Daemon asked.
"Ryon, Ser Daemon., and I'm no knight."
"Not today, no. But should we see the morrow then either by mine own hands or I'd wager by Ned's, you'll not be able to say that then." Daemon said as he patted the older man on the back.
Ned looked both at the two men he'd just fought with and at the field around him as they spoke. Some of his warriors had fallen, but it seemed as if most still lived. He saw no sign of White Walkers near him and as he looked further down the field, he found he could see none there either. Yet he felt a tingling at the back of his mind, a call that begged him to get back to the lines.
"We need to regroup, reform. We need a Shield Wall," he called out almost in a panic though he knew not why he did so.
"Ned?"
"Now Daemon!" he shouted.
He, Daemon, Ryon, and every man who had found themselves away from their lines and facing a White Walker, now ran like cravens from the battlefield. What it must have looked like to their men, he knew not, but their shouts of "Shield Wall" were accepted and acted upon. As he took his place alongside his men, he both felt a fool and knew he was not. Yet it took some time for the reason for his panic to be made clear.
"Is that?"
"Are those?"
As far as the eye could see, dead animals now made their way toward them. Animals of every sort and they were a far different foe to face than any they'd faced thus far. Bracing for impact, the sound of the dragon's roars soon rang out and he, Daemon, Ryon, and each and every man in their lines looked on as three dragons laid down their flames as one. It was a most welcome sight to see and the sound they heard but a moment later almost drowned out the cheers that rang out across the entirety of their lines, almost but not quite.
"The Dothraki have charged," he whispered happily.
Dany.
It was different, it felt different to her. Three dragons rather than two wasn't just easier because of the additional one, it was more than that. For some reason, it felt right. As if this was how it was meant to be. Aegon had spoken to her many times about the true nature of war and why certain things were done a certain way in a battle. Over time, some things had just become what was done while others that had been done previously now were not, he'd said. Or that was the basics of what he'd said anyway.
Cavalry charges, besieging keeps, and even battles at sea had all developed in a set of tactical maneuvers that if done correctly, would lead more often than not to victory. True enough, at times you were forced to adapt and work with what you had. A true military leader could still eke out a victory if they had fewer numbers, a worse strategic position,s and were facing someone less skilled than they. But two equally matched forces, both led by leaders well versed in tactic, that Aegon said was when it was left to fate, luck, or God's to decide.
" And Belicho?"
" Is not ready for what we'll bring him, Dany. You, Me, Rhaenys, he's not ready for that."
As Drogon laid down his flames for the umpteenth time, while Rhaegal and Balerion did just as he did, Dany believed Aegon had known the truth of things. Just as she believed that it had been more than a simple saying spoken by her family. She was now certain that Three Heads of the Dragon, was in fact, the Targaryen's own gift to battle tactics. Looking to see where her Goodsister and husband were, she found herself surprised to see them flying towards her. For a moment, she briefly felt a panic well up within her, but they were flying without any true urgency she was relieved to see.
Then for the first time since they'd taken flight this morning, afternoon, or evening, time not something that could truly be ascertained in a world with no sun, all three dragons were no more than a few feet from each other. She looked to her Goodsister who was both looking her way and then at Aegon. Dany then turned to her husband whose eyes were roaming over her and Drogon making sure she and her dragon were unhurt. Each of the three of them seemed most eager to know that the other was well and unharmed and the relief she felt once she knew they both were, was palpable.
Looking to Aegon, she saw him point Lightbringer and then Drogon and Balerion followed after Rhaegal in the direction they'd been shown. As one, all three dragons laid down their flames in unison and it was a remarkable thing to see and take part in. The flames seemed to join together as one and even when the dragon's heads began to move, their flames remained combined. For how long this went on she knew not. After some time, Aegon pointed Lightbringer again and both she and Rhaenys looked to see what it was he wished to show them.
When she saw the animals charge, she knew the danger it would bring to her forces and so despite feeling that the three dragons doing as they had been was important, each of them now flew their separate ways once more. Soon enough, Drogon was laying his flames down in as wide an arc as possible, and once again, spears flew his and her way. It had only happened thrice so far since they'd taken to the sky today. Each time it was her son himself and not her who dodged the spears as they flew towards him and this time was no different.
"Ñuha nēdenka tresy."(My fierce son) she said as a way of praise and felt him trill beneath her before he then went about his work once more.
The cold winds blew and she knew what they meant, as did Drogon. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure that Rhaegal and Balerion still flew safely and that her husband and Goodsister were still unharmed, Dany smiled before then concentrating once more on making sure her army was as protected as much as she could make them. That had truly been the task that Aegon had set her and Rhaenys here today. To offer protection to their own sections of their forces from the dead that came their way. It was a lesson she'd learned well from the Battle of Winterfell and a task she accepted without question when her husband assigned it to her. More so once she knew that just as she and Rhaenys, Aegon would mainly be doing the same.
How long the battle had raged for she knew not. Below her, she believed her army had suffered few true losses. The Dothraki had ridden and regrouped before riding again, just as they had at Winterfell. Drogon and Balerion both offered them aid from above should it be needed while Rhaegal flew directly at their enemy's ranks at the same time. At what point she felt it, she knew not, the call came and she and Rhaenys both answered it. For the first time that day, the battlefield was left behind and all three dragons flew behind their enemy's ranks. Again their flames were released in unison and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lightbringer shine even more brightly.
She believed she heard him in her head. The voice of her husband telling her that it was time and turning to look at him, she felt her heart in her chest as what looked to be Lightbringer falling to the ground was revealed to be Aegon jumping from Rhaegal's back. Dany, Rhaenys, and the three dragons all looked on as the shining light from her husband's sword now moved along the ground beneath them. All the while they continued to loose their flames as one and as she watched Lightbringer move in the air, a certain sign that Aegon was now engaged in a swordfight. So she now offered up a prayer to the Old Gods to bring her husband back safely.
"Bring him back to me, back to our daughter. Bring him back I beg of you."
With that done and though she wished for nothing more than to follow Aegon, Dany instead completely turned her attention to what she, Rhaenys, and the three dragons were doing. Beneath them, it wasn't flames that caught or fires that burned, but almost explosions of dead flesh and bone that brought about their enemies' ends. Not a single one of them was able to withstand the sheer power of three dragon's flames combined. They moved over the lines and not even the White Walkers were able to withstand the force they were hit with. The flames may not have ended them as they did the lesser things under their and Belicho's thrall, but it did stop them from offering any aid to the fight she believed that Belicho was now engaged in. A fight against the man she loved, a fight for not just Aegon's life, but for all life. A fight that she believed would see her husband victorious once more.
The Bloodstone Emperor.
He sent them out and watched and waited. At first with such arrogance that even as it became clear that he was losing this fight, he ignored it. All he could see was his army pushing forward and the one who stood against it not doing so. Little understanding that they were not because that had never been their plan. When he first sent the spears to the sky to take down the dragons, he'd been certain they would easily complete the task. Yet he'd looked on as time and time again, the dragons had avoided them as if they were mere inconveniences to them and not the great threat that Belicho had believed them to be.
As more and more of his army was defeated, he felt his power begin to drain from him. Reaching into himself to do some of the things he'd planned to do in this battle here today, he found himself unable to do so. The large winter's storm he'd intended to bring chaos to his enemy's ranks, had never been manifested and now never would and he understood it not.
Why?
Why had he not led with that?
Why had he sent wave after wave of his army against those that dared stand in his way?
Was it hubris? Arrogance? Over Confidence?
Had he made a mistake?
Belicho fought down the voice that told him that he had indeed made a mistake, a huge one. He listened to it not when it told him that he'd fought this battle far too soon. That he should have waited, and gathered more meat for his army. That he'd marched in the wrong direction and now faced a threat that could very well end him before he'd truly begun. He ignored that voice and listened instead to the other one in his head, the one that had always been there. The voice that told him that none could stand against him.
When he sent the animals in, he did so with glee. Unlike the dead men and women he'd sent, they'd tear through his enemies' ranks. None could stop them or him, or so he told himself. Yet again he was proved wrong and the dragons made easy work of the dead animals just as they had the dead people he'd sent against them. Few if any of them even reached the enemy's lines. None broke through them or threatened what lay behind them and Belicho cursed them for their failure. Again the voice rang out in his head and again he ignored the words that it spoke.
Retreat.
Regroup.
Rebuild.
He bid more spears aimed at the accursed dragons. Looked on as they once again failed to hit their mark. Knowing that dead things were of no use to him against Dragonfire, he called for his generals and sent them into the fray. Smiling to himself, he waited for the inevitable victory that was soon to be his. Yet it never came, as they, just like the dead, failed him too. Worse than that, he felt it even more keenly when they fell. The loss of power when he'd lost dead things was that much more telling when that dead thing was a vessel he'd given some of his power to. He felt weaker, lesser, and for the first time, fearful. Yet again he ignored the voice that he heard in his head.
You are losing.
They are winning.
He is winning.
Your end is nigh.
He'd not accept such words, he could not. The victory was to be his. Essos was to be his. Planetos was to be his.
Wasn't it?
Hadn't he been promised it?
He couldn't be beaten, could he?
"My destiny is to rule it all," he said as he quietened down the voice for now.
When they came and flew over his lines, he was shocked. Seeing them so close and feeling the sheer power that resonated off them and more worryingly, off of him. Even he had to shield his eyes somewhat from the light and as the dragons laid down their flames as one, Belicho felt his panic threaten to overwhelm him. He called out for all those he had left to him. Sent the remainder of his generals to the battle with but two goals.
"Take down the dragons."
"Kill the Bringer of Light."
It was too late when he realized his mistake. They were too far to come to his aid when he called for them. The Bringer of Light was no longer atop a dragon, he was on the ground and he was coming for him.
"No."
"No."
"This will not be my end," he said as his dark sword took shape in his hands.
As the light from the sword held in the dragon's hands lit up and began to shine, Belicho finally listened to the voice in his head, though its words brought him no comfort at all.
" You win or you die. He knows that, and now so will you?"
Aegon.
His attention was split between those he cared about and the fight itself. At various times during it, he'd looked through Ghost's eyes to see how Rhaella was. Aegon took great comfort in seeing that those around his daughter had done their very best to make this seem like just another ordinary day. Missandei both told her stories and played games with her while Tormund was acting like a fool just to bring a smile to her face.
Outside the tent, Lyarhaex watched with just as keen an eye as Aegon did. The red dragon was ever alert should the need for her to be called into action arise. He took comfort too in the men that he'd left as his daughter's guards. Not a single one of them slacking or not paying attention as far as he could see and should they win this day, he'd find some way to thank them for their diligence. Leaving Ghost behind and thanking his truest friend for watching over his daughter, Aegon took flight in a small bird and found he was not the only one to do so. Lady Malora had many of them in the sky, almost too many to count. Her own thousand eyes and one were busy doing the same as he and were ever watchful. Once he knew that his daughter was in no danger and that her escape route was still clear, it was back to those who were truly in the fight that he looked to. These through Rhaegal's eyes.
Their lines had held firm under each attack that had been sent at it. Wights, or this version of them, dead animals, with the help of the dragons, and the White Walkers, through the sheer doggedness and resolve of their best-trained men. He both thanked the gods that some of these men had fought in the Battle of Winterfell and so had faced such enemies before, and wished that neither they nor he had needed to face that battle at all. Taking one last look at their lines. He was happy to see far more faces that he recognized were still amongst the living than he had feared.
As both he and Rhaegal joined with Drogon and Balerion and laid their flames down, he gave his wife and sister the signal that had been agreed between them. Though he couldn't truly see their faces, he did believe that he felt their relief that those they cared about were thus far unharmed. Once done, he readied himself to end this fight once and for all. All three of the dragons let loose their flames as one yet again. They flew to Belicho's lines, and he was happy to see the Dothraki charge and regroup and its effect. Just as in the Battle of Winterfell, his orders had been listened to, accepted, and followed to the letter. Now because of it, their victory was so close he could feel it.
"For Dany. For Rhaella. For Rhaenys." he called out as Rhaegal parted from his brothers and flew further behind Belicho's lines.
No more spears came his way. Few arrows did. The three dragons acting as one had cleared the path to the Bloodstone Emperor, yet it was only he who could walk that path. Rhaegal didn't argue with him for once. His dragon knew the stakes, the plan and though he'd not agreed with parts of it, he had accepted it. Partly Aegon believed because it was but one of many he'd made for the battle here today. Contingencies upon contingencies. He'd come up with various different endgames depending on how the day went. This had been the one he'd hoped and prayed for.
Rhaegal cleared the path ahead and behind him. No dead thing would come out of the shadows and interfere in the fight that was soon to take place. Though his and his brother's flames had not truly harmed the White Walkers, they had dispersed them and Belicho had become desperate enough by that point to have sent them all into the breach. It was a mistake that Aegon had no intent to allow him to recover from. One that if he had his way, would bring about his end. He spoke softly to his dragon, thanked him for all he'd done today, and promised him that this was not to be the last flight they shared together. Then with Lightbringer in hand and Rhaegal flying lower to the ground, Aegon jumped and Rhaegal turned to rejoin his brothers.
One spear flew as he did so. Whether it was aimed at him or his dragon he knew not, but it found neither of them. Instead, it simply flew by them harmlessly and Aegon turned his attention to the figure some feet away from him who'd thrown it. Gilly had told him much and little about Belicho Staegone. He was thinner and fitter than most of the wealthy men in Essos, who for some reason usually ended up falling to fat. Others had named him as cunning and thoughtful, yet he was not a man who'd been well known for his military prowess. Looking at him now, Aegon would have to say that the self-styled Bloodstone Emperor was actually a disappointing sight.
"This ends now!" he said firmly as he moved towards the man who wished to enslave the word, Lightbringer shining ever more brightly and more of Belicho's features coming into view.
Where the Night King was blue polished pristine ice, Belicho seemed more like the bloodstained snow that Jon Snow had died upon. There was a dark red hue that almost looked black when Lightbringer wasn't completely illuminating him. His eyes were at once a blue and then a red, as they glared angrily at him. While his lips looked a deep purple to him as if they were both starved and yet filled with blood at the same time. The sword he held in his hand was blood red, yet it was made of ice and it was Belicho who swung his sword first.
Aegon parried it with Lightbringer and then the fight truly began in earnest. Though it was immediately clear to him that Belicho was no true swordsman. It was clear too that whatever power he'd tapped into had compensated for that greatly. Yet as they fought, he felt that power weakening considerably. It took him but a moment to realize why that was and so he bid Rhaegal redouble his efforts with his brothers and to let loose both his flames and his roars. The more soldiers that they took from the Bloodstone Emperor, the more likely it was that Aegon would dine tonight with his family and not with the gods.
Reluctant though it was, his dragon did as he was bid and Aegon parried yet another blow. Time seemed to slow as the two swords clashed with neither of them truly winning this fight. Yet while Aegon still fought within himself, Belicho very much did not. A voice in his head told him to finish it, to press home his advantage, and yet he ignored it. Belicho was not the Night King, their magic may be similar but they were very different too. The last thing he wished to do was allow his eagerness for this to end to then lead to his own. So he paced himself, conserved his energy, and when Lightbringer began to shine and Belicho's blows seemed to weaken even further, then and only then did he press forward.
It ended in an explosion of light. Lightbringer burned so brightly and intensely that Aegon would wager that its light could be seen not just in Qohor, but all the way to Lorath and mayhap even Braavos. The blood-red sword didn't just break, it shattered, and the sound of three dragons roaring out in unison resounded for miles around. Two swipes of the illuminated blade were all it took to end the man who had wished to own the world. One that took his arm at the shoulder and the other that slashed down his chest and allowed for a dark black stone to fall and crash against the ground.
"I can't… I can't lose. My….My Destiny…."
Those were the last words spoken by Belicho Staegone and yet his death didn't bring the sun back or turn night back into day. Through Rhaegal's eyes, Aegon could see that no dead thing moved and their victory was complete and yet, this now felt like a loss to him. It was then that he felt it, the darkness had not come from the man, though he had no doubt there had been evil in him, it came from the black stone that lay some feet away from Belicho's corpse. Moving to it, he felt it call out to him, beg him to embrace it and he even believed he heard a voice offering him whatever it was his heart desired the most.
There had been a time, many years earlier, when he would have had no idea what it was that his heart desired the most.
To be named good and true by the man he'd thought a father.
To be looked at as an honorable man who'd risen above the stain that his name had brought him.
To know about his mother and whether or not she had loved or even cared for him.
Now though, he had what he desired most in the world. A family. Raising Lightbringer high, he brought it crashing down hard on the black stone. Then he both saw the light as the sun shone once more and the darkness as his eyes closed. Once again there was nothingness. No dreams, no sounds, no smells, nothing but darkness and he feared it far more now than he had the last time he'd known it. For who knows how long, this was all he knew and then he felt warm air brushing over his face and willed his eyes to open.
Standing above him, Rhaegal looked at him with such concern and relief. He felt him in his mind, asking him if he was well, begging him to tell him that he was well. Rising to his feet, Aegon moved to the green dragon and placed his hand on his snout. He looked deeply into those bronze eyes and told him that he was unharmed. Once the dragon was sure that he was telling him the truth, Aegon sought first Ghost and then any other animal he could so he could be certain that his family and friends were unharmed too.
Above him, the sun shined. In his hand, Lightbringer shone no more. Once he knew that all was truly well in his own little world, he then set about making sure it was the same everywhere else. Taking a pouch from his hip, he emptied out the contents, which was some remaining food that he'd not eaten. Then he moved to the shattered black stone and with his gloved hand he picked up each and every single piece of it. To its left, Belicho looked as if he was just another dead thing. There was nothing special or noteworthy about him whatsoever. With barely another glance at the man, he finished what he was doing and then climbed up to take his place on Rhaegal's back.
"Dracarys," he said and the green dragon's flames soon burned away Belicho's corpse.
They took flight. Both of them were eager to show their family that they were unharmed. Though the light hurt his eyes somewhat and he could see that those on the ground and his wife and sister would take far longer to readjust, both he and the green dragon were clearly seen. Aegon heard the loud cheers as the dragons flew over their army. He chuckled to himself when his sister bid Balerion land so she could find her husband and make sure that he too would see another day. As for him and Dany, it was to Rhaella that his wife now flew and he and Rhaegal followed.
While Dany bid Drogon land, he had one more thing left to do. So after he'd seen his wife hold their daughter in her arms, after he'd allowed both Ghost and Lyarhaex to see he breathed still, and after shaking his head at Tormund waving to him like the big fool he was, Aegon and Rhaegal flew on a little further. It took them some time to find the volcano and even more to see the molten rock itself. With the pouch in hand, he emptied its contents into the burning fires and once he was certain it was done, they then turned to head back.
"Kostagon bisa sagon se mōrī vīlībāzma īlon mirre laehurlion, ñuha raqiros." (May this be the last war we ever face, my friend.) he said as Rhaegal roared out loudly in approval.