[Chapter Size: 2700 Words.]
Third Person POV.
King's Landing.
...
...
At the moment Winter was launching his attack on the ships at sea, a rather unenthusiastic meeting was taking place in Aegon's camp.
"We lost the dragons! How is that possible!?", shouted Jon Connington, so desperate that Daemon would certainly have called him a spoiled teenager for the second time.
The fact of losing the dragons shook everyone, who quickly gathered to discuss what they had just seen happen in front of the walls.
"It seems so, my lord...", Varys's voice was anything but calm. There was nervousness, fear, and that awe of not knowing what was happening.
In his mind, he tried to understand: two dragons, their most powerful weapons, had been sent to attack the enemy, while he himself was without his own dragon... and yet, they were defeated. Not only was one brought down, but the other simply did not attack the enemy. As they could see from afar, the silent dragon had submitted to Daemon Targaryen without even fighting, the dragon bonded just as Aegon had his bond with the dragon that had been stolen by the Greyjoys.
Which made no sense at all, or at least they tried to see it that way.
After all, he was already a dragon rider. How could he, then, tame another? That wasn't even the most bizarre part. It was still possible to justify, even if reluctantly, that his white dragon was different from the Valyrians, after all, there were no ice dragons in Valyria. And the most astonishing thing were the explosions seen in the distance while the black dragon fought against a man.
That was strange... and frightening.
A man who fought a dragon alone — and tamed it.
Varys observed the rest of the tent. Perhaps the least affected there were Lord Randyll Tarly and Harry Strickland, who looked on with a cold gleam in their eyes, but even so, it was possible to see that they were quickly calculating what to do, yet they did not seem to know how to lessen the impact this would have on the army and the next battle...
Even Garlan Tyrell seemed worried, while Mace, his father, had an empty look, as if he did not understand anything that was happening.
Jon still seemed frustrated and desperate. Arianne Martell, who this time attended the meeting, looked with discouragement and regret. Aegon's entire alliance was falling apart before they had even entered into conflict with the enemy, and not even a full day had passed since they met... The enemy had greater numbers — and now possessed three dragons... in addition to a monster who wore the crown itself, capable of creating a storm out of nothing, playing god and summoning things no mortal should.
Varys hated magic. He hated Daemon for being practically its personification in flesh and blood. After all, his magic was different from anything that world had ever produced. It did not involve sacrifices. It was something real, something he could invoke at any moment, doing things that defied the very understanding of men.
A power that no man should have.
But Daemon Targaryen possessed it. And had learned it in another world.
"You didn't say he mentioned in Winterfell that his specialty in that other land was killing dragons?", Harry Strickland murmured.
That bothered Varys a bit. He had said that — and everyone had taken it as a joke. "Yes, he also specified that the dragons there were like pests... he said he specialized in killing them... He said that in the middle of the Winterfell feast..."
"And we ignored it..." the commander of the Golden Company said almost in a whisper...
The joke they thought that statement was turned out to be more than that after this night, Daemon's name would, regardless of what happened, be recorded in history.
A man who fought a dragon, face to face… and won.
That would be taken as a legend that would possibly be more popular than any other song ever produced in Westeros.
And many men would be drawn to follow legends...
Varys's last glance was at Aegon. The situation could still get worse. Aegon himself was there, staring at no one, just looking into nothingness, with empty eyes, like someone wondering if he was really experiencing the loss of his dragons.
The power he had been so proud of had slipped from his hands so easily. First one to the Greyjoy, now two dragons all at once, to his greatest enemy...
An enemy who even knows the truth of Varys's and Aegon's past...
"We can't stay here lamenting. That won't get us anywhere," Harry said, as he pointed to the map. "If that white dragon went to the fleet, we are bound to lose at least half the ships, if not the entire fleet..." he said.
"My contacts in the North said he destroyed all of Stannis's ships in the North. Froze every last one," Varys said. It was not news he enjoyed giving, but it needed to be said.
The room grew uneasy, that shows that the Golden Company's fleet was destroyed, or is being destroyed at this very moment...
"What can we do now? Try to face him head-on? The dragons are now in his possession. Our men are frightened, our morale is falling... not to mention there are still the hostages," Lord Tarly said.
It was at that moment that his own son entered. "Excuse me, father... My lords...", Dickon said in a polite tone, but also with a voice filled with urgency. "You need to see this."
More men began to enter the tent. "Your Majesty, something is happening in King's Landing!"
There was no need to say anything else. They quickly moved to see what was causing that commotion among the men. When they arrived, they saw the uproar. The army itself was turned toward the walls above the gate in the distance... while several men gathered at that section of the wall.
It was not hard to understand what was happening.
"Daemon said he would execute the hostages...", Varys swallowed hard. He might not have done it in the late afternoon, but he would still do it anyway.
As everyone raised their spyglasses, one of the men shouted: "That is Willas Tyrell!"
"What? My son, let me see!", Mace snatched the spyglass, seeming to awaken at that moment. He quickly looked — and his eyes widened as he saw his son being forced to his knees before the walls, with Daemon holding Dark Sister.
"No...", the man dropped the spyglass, staggering.
"Was he executed?", Garlan asked, frightened, seeing his father's state. Mace fell to the ground and began to tremble, having a seizure. Several men ran to him to help.
"No... he wasn't... but he's about to be! He raised the sword!", the man said.
A silence took over the place a moment later... A few seconds later, he lowered the spyglass again.
"He... he killed him."
The silence spread across the entire front of the camp, where the principal lords and commanders stood.
Garlan watched through his spyglass, he simply lowered it and began to cry. Tears streamed from his eyes like rivers...
His brother... his brother, who was not a warrior, had been executed like a dog.
"No..." A Martell was placed in the distance before Daemon, he fell to his knees. Arianne began to cry, looking through the spyglass. It was her brother, Tristan...
She was watching her family die. She should not be looking.
Daemon said a few words before his army. Then, he moved the sword and beheaded her brother, just as he had done before.
She kept watching, while tears fell constantly... then she saw her father being placed on his knees.
Her father seemed to look at his son's body, suffering and crying. He said something to Daemon — Arianne did not know what. Probably some curse... Arianne's mind boiled, perhaps regret finally setting in.
Then Daemon spoke again.
He moved the sword.
And cut off his head.
There was no hesitation. He did not lie when he said he would do that.
And, as much as Arianne expected it, after seeing her uncle's head fall before her in their first meeting earlier that morning, there was still a part of her that believed they would continue to be important hostages… that they would not be killed.
She was wrong.
Two of the most important families in Westeros were being executed. It was a message to everyone who supported Aegon.
Aegon himself did not know what to say or do. The boy stood there, watching everything that had been built for him collapse.
He saw Arianne simply fall to her knees and begin to scream and cry like a child.
For her, suddenly, all of her father's plans — supporting a boy who could carry the Martell name and sit on the Iron Throne, having a political marriage with their children, even the idea of her bearing an heir through it — all of that ceased to make sense.
And what did it result in?
She found herself alone.
Her brother had already been killed in Essos.
Her uncle Oberyn, killed in King's Landing by Daemon.
Tristan, killed in King's Landing by Daemon.
Her father Doran, killed in King's Landing by Daemon.
She was the last of her family.
Everything they had done so far suddenly did not seem to have been worth it.
She was the last Martell alive. And she knew that man would not let her live if he won the war. She would be killed. Her family would be completely wiped out. The Martells would be extinguished, extinguished by a decision driven by a thirst for revenge...
"You remained neutral for so long, father... you could have held out a little longer...", she murmured through tears. The Martells did not move in the War of the Four Kings.
If Doran had not remained neutral in that war, even with three dragons flying over Sunspear and threatening them, perhaps her family would have survived.
She continued to cry in silence, while her cousins approached and touched her shoulder, making promises of revenge.
"We will have Daemon's head, even if it is the last thing we do." Arianne was not enthusiastic about those promises. They seemed so empty...
It was obvious that revenge was no longer worth as much as before. And wasn't it the pursuit of revenge that brought them there? That in the end, achieved nothing and only brought them more destruction...
Arianne was taken to her tent. She did not even know how she had gotten there.
She just walked… with an empty look.
The same seemed true for Garlan Tyrell, who moved like a zombie to where his father had been taken, still trembling from a panic attack. He did not even see his brother die, but in his mind, he had already seen it happen before the sword came down on his neck. The men were giving him milk of the poppy to calm him.
"Let's go to your tent. We have nothing more to gain here tonight." Varys approached Aegon, whose hands were slightly trembling.
He did not know what to do, nor what to say. His men watched him, waiting for some direction from the king… but what could he do? He could not resurrect the dead. He could not bring his dragons back. He could not do anything that the other man was capable of.
Daemon Targaryen's army was overflowing with morale, while Aegon's army was simply shattered.
And all because of just one man.
Thus, Aegon went to his tent.
Up on the wall, Daemon looked at the three severed heads in a corner, as they had all rolled there with the stones of the wall, lower at that spot. He knew that some lords, like his uncle, had been against that… but that was the justice Daemon would apply. He intended to destroy the ambitious families once and for all. That would send a message to the future.
People would remember the end of House Martell and House Tyrell when they challenged a dragon.
Daemon did not fear the Faceless Men, although some of them would be thirsty for revenge for the deaths he was causing, willing to spend fortunes against him. Not that he truly believed they could harm him… but his children could be a target, and that would be a problem. Even so, the agreement he made in Braavos ensured that his blood would never be touched by them. Therefore, this kind of assassination by the greatest killers in the world would not be a concern.
"My lord..." A man approached from the side, while Daemon was deep in thought. He turned to him. There was caution… and admiration.
Especially after what Daemon had done against the black dragon.
The army still roared after the execution of the hostages… but it was even more enthusiastic because of what it had witnessed in that battle.
In any case, Daemon spoke again: "I want the heads placed on spikes and left in front of the gates."
Soon, a roar echoed.
The white dragon had finally returned. It had already destroyed every last ship before Daemon ordered the hostages to be brought from the black cells to be executed.
Daemon descended from the gate and stepped outside. He passed through the ranks of the army, while he waited for Winter to descend to him, in an open area along with the other dragons.
She landed. The green dragon was also there, standing still, watching Daemon and the white dragon.
The first thing Winter did was snarl at it, releasing an icy breath.
The green dragon responded with a roar.
Daemon had to close his eyes and enter the minds of both, making some effort. He was dealing with a dragon that spoke the Old Tongue and another that spoke High Valyrian. If he wanted to communicate with both at the same time, he would have to transmit his intentions directly through their minds, through his warg abilities.
"Calm yourselves," he said, while trying to show the dragons that both were allies.
Winter seemed even more stubborn, roaring as if Daemon were the only rider that existed and as if the green dragon should not occupy any place among them.
Daemon could not understand everything, so he closed his eyes and forced his will upon her, making her obey.
She yielded.
The green dragon now also became part of the pack, just like his wolves and Ghost.
He now had two dragons.
Daemon remained there for a while, watching the two adapt to each other, before they ended up killing one another. They were not direwolves — they were not like Ghost, nor as easy to control. Dragons were different. Much more instinctive. Much more dangerous.
He had to make an effort, especially when, at certain moments, they almost bit each other or spat their elements at one another.
The black dragon was being healed by Spriggans that he had summoned.
Thinking about it, he realized something.
His connection with Oblivion was stronger now. As time passed in that world, he could feel it clearly — and perhaps he could risk summoning some help.
He could not send any of his dragons to the North. He could control them from a distance, but he did not think that would be suitable to deal with Euron Greyjoy.
That was why he needed to send something else.
With him stuck there because of the war that would truly begin the next day, he needed a powerful ally to protect the Wall at the edge of the Northern realm...
"I will summon him... at least to keep the Wall safe for now," he said to himself.
Then, he mounted Winter.
He left the green dragon beside the black dragon, so that when it woke up, it would notify Daemon.
Then, he took flight.
He headed into the city, flying over King's Landing.
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