A morning in 115 AC, King's Landing
The streets of King's Landing were eerily silent. Only the heavy footsteps of the Gold Cloaks echoed through the empty city. No civilians dared venture outside, for rumors of impending war were thick in the air. The Red Keep, the heart of the Targaryen power, was heavily fortified, its walls bristling with guards. Inside, King Viserys sat with his Small Council, each of them listening intently as reports flowed in from the far reaches of the realm.
"Daemon Targaryen has marched toward Maidenpool," Lyonel Strong said, his face drawn with concern.
"Very well," Viserys responded, his tone calm yet tinged with an unmistakable edge of authority. "Hold the Reach in place for now. Once Maidenpool falls, we will initiate the invasion of Dorne."
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[Near Antlers, the Crownlands Army]
Daemon Targaryen rode at the head of the Crownlands army, a fearsome sight in his black armor. Behind him, the banners of House Rosby, House Rykker, House Burne, and House Thorne fluttered in the wind. His dragon, Caraxes, soared above them, its shrieks of fury echoing across the battlefield. The ground trembled under the weight of the army's march, and the air was thick with the smell of blood, iron, and impending slaughter.
"My prince, we will reach Maidenpool soon," Lord Rosby said, his voice anxious. His eyes flicked nervously to the sky, where Caraxes circled in a grotesque ballet of death.
Daemon's gaze was cold, his lips curling into a sinister smile. "Your men will surround Maidenpool," he commanded. "Cut down anyone who tries to flee. Caraxes and I will burn it to the ground."
The lords riding alongside him exchanged uneasy glances. This wasn't a war of conquest—they were not there to negotiate, but to bring destruction. There would be no mercy.
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[Rook's Rest, the Last Stand of House Staunton]
The once-proud walls of Rook's Rest were in chaos. House Staunton had long known that they would not survive a siege by dragons, and now, it was every man, woman, and child for themselves. The inhabitants of Rook's Rest scrambled for ships, hoping to escape the wrath of Daemon's forces.
Those who could afford passage fled to Dorne, others to the distant shores of Essos. A few stubborn ones, unwilling to abandon their ancestral lands, stood ready to face the fire and fury of the Targaryen dragons. But even they knew their fate was sealed.
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[Casterly Rock]
"The Northerners have begun their war," Jason Lannister, Warden of the West, observed grimly. He turned to his fellow councilors, his hands clenched tightly on the armrests of his chair.
"Prepare the fleet at Lannisport to strike House Greyjoy," he ordered. "We've waited long enough for vengeance for their unrelenting raids. This is our chance."
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[The Iron Islands]
The cries of battle rang through the air as the Northmen struck with ruthless precision. The Ironborn were caught completely off guard, their defenses crumbling as the Northern forces surged forward, taking one island after another.
"To the Iron Islands!" the Northern war cries echoed as warriors hacked their way through Ironborn resistance.
The Ironborn, prideful and fierce, were not going to yield easily. As the battle raged, their forces regrouped, but the Northmen, bolstered by their reinforcements, held the advantage.
Meanwhile, the Lannister fleet had set sail toward Pyke, prepared to strike a devastating blow against the Ironborn stronghold.
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[Horn Hill, The Reach]
At Horn Hill, the great banners of House Tarly waved in the breeze. Lord Alan Tarly, a towering figure known for his steel resolve, stood at the head of the gathered armies of the Reach. His warriors, seasoned and disciplined, awaited their orders with quiet anticipation.
"We march when the king commands," Alan muttered under his breath, his gaze fixed on the horizon, where the flames of war were already rising.
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Maidenpool: The Sack Begins
The screams of the innocent echoed across Maidenpool as Daemon Targaryen's forces began their brutal assault. Caraxes descended upon the city like a harbinger of death, his fiery breath reducing buildings to ash, while the Crownlands army cut down anyone who dared to flee.
"My prince," Lord Rykker said breathlessly, "members of House Mooton fled Maidenpool last night."
Daemon's eyes narrowed, his voice cold as ice. "We march toward Rook's Rest. Leave behind five hundred men to ensure that not a single soul escapes this hell."
A lone figure, his armor soaked in blood, ran up to Daemon. "My prince, we've caught the bastards of Manfryd Mooton!"
Daemon's face twisted in fury. "Execute them. Find every last one of House Mooton's blood and burn it from the earth."
The infamous sack of Maidenpool was completed, the flames of destruction licking the sky as the last remnants of the city were erased.
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[The Iron Islands: The Lannister Offensive]
The Lannister navy had struck swiftly and without mercy. The Greyjoy fleet, caught unprepared, was obliterated in a storm of fire and steel. House Greyjoy's ports burned as the Lannisters moved toward Pyke, their banners fluttering in the wind, a symbol of vengeance.
"Remember the raids," a Lannister captain whispered to his men as they rowed toward the Ironborn stronghold. "This is payback for every ship, every life they've taken."
The Northerners, having captured four islands, had paused their advance, weary from the brutal fighting. But they knew the Ironborn would regroup, and their reinforcements from Winterfell were already on their way. The next clash would come soon enough.
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[In Dorne, War Rages On]
News of the sack of Maidenpool reached Viserys Targaryen, and he wasted no time in issuing orders for the next phase of the war. The armies of the Stormlands, under Borros Baratheon, and House Targaryen, led by princess Rhaenys , stop her dragon meleys surged southward, their banners flying high as they captured Black Haven and moved along Boneway to lay seige to vulture's roost east of nightsong. The armies of the Reach had already begun their assault on Nightsong, aiming to capture the Prince's Pass and open a path to Dorne.
But far from the Targaryen forces, a new alliance was forming in the shadows. The Triarchy and Braavos had forged a coalition to strike at Dragonstone, intending to weaken House Targaryen's grip on the Iron Throne. They would take Rook's Rest, then march toward Duskendale, threatening the heart of the realm—King's Landing itself.
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