Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF Universe and all recognizable characters, plots belong to GRRM. I have no ownership to it.
Chapter 64: A Game of Magic IV
The Sunset Sea
Harlan Pyke
Harlan stood near the starboard side of the ship, the wind brushing against his face as he watched the restless sea stretch endlessly before him. The sound of waves striking the hull blended with the rhythmic pull of the thralls at the oars. The noise was constant and unyielding, yet it carried a harsh beauty that he had come to accept. It felt like the last calm moment he would be granted as his ship cut through the waters towards their target.
He had seen enough battles to know that peace was never truly his, yet what he intended now would not end like those before. This was not a raid or a fleeting conflict. The path ahead would lead to only one result—either his death or his rise as the King of the Ironborn. Until recently, he had placed absolute faith in himself and in the plans he had forged. Now, as the distance to his goal shrank, he understood the risk for what it was. Confidence alone would not carry him through what was coming.
Fortunately, his faith did not rest in himself alone. His belief in the Drowned God remained absolute. To be granted a vision, to be chosen to hear the will of his god directly, filled him with a fierce pride that settled deep within his chest.
Even now, without closing his eyes, the memory of that vision remained carved into his mind with relentless clarity.
He was swimming once more beside his saviour and companion—the kraken. The immense creature moved through the depths with effortless strength, its countless tentacles propelling them forward through the heavy waters. For a fleeting moment, Harlan wondered if this was what it felt like to fly.
Harlan saw through the kraken's eyes, and even with that level of darkvision, his surroundings were dim and growing darker still. He could make out the distant seabed rising like a wall around him, several kilometres away, and only then did he fully register that they were swimming within a vast ocean trench. For a moment, panic seized him; he had never witnessed such suffocating darkness, and he wondered if the kraken had abandoned him. Yet the sheer speed of the creature reassured him that it could return as easily as it had left the Lonely Light.
He felt the water pressure steadily increasing as the darkness deepened into a consuming black, pressing even against the kraken's scales. Before he could fully comprehend the weight of that pressure and the absolute void around them, the kraken reached the end of the trench. The walls loomed far closer now, and he realised the hollow in the ocean was V-shaped. His thoughts lingered on what force could have carved such a place, until he saw it—a black throne resting at the centre of the abyss, with a figure seated upon it.
For a moment, Harlan's shock and fear caused even the kraken to falter, and in that instant, he lost control.
"Harlan."
The voice—one he had heard countless times within his mind—reached him for the first time as sound. Or rather, it reached the kraken's ears, Harlan realised with a faint, unsteady thought.
He tried to see his god through the kraken's eyes, yet the being remained obscured, impossible to perceive.
Suddenly, the darkness became absolute for a single heartbeat, and Harlan found himself standing before a figure covered in green algae separated from his Kraken . Everything about it was indistinct, blurred beyond comprehension.
Harlan dropped to his knees at once, bowing his head.
"My lord, I am blessed to be in your presence, Drowned One. I am not worthy," he gasped, feeling his mind strain and fray as he tried to perceive the figure before him.
"Stop it, my warrior. Your mind is not yet ready to behold my form," the god said, a trace of malicious amusement in his voice.
Harlan could only nod in obedience, too overwhelmed to speak further.
"I have summoned you here in this dream to make my command clear. You have gathered my devotees under your command and upon your ships. My priests have ensured that those who defile my seas without paying the Iron Price shall be made to pay it with their own Death. The time for silly mortal games is over. The reward for you will be the Seastone Chair.
"You will strike the ships of the bears that depart the lion's den in three days' time. The thrice-blessed of the Lonely Light shall secure your victory. Your saviour will destroy every ship should your men fail in this task. If the Abomination of Fire descends, my pet will drag it beneath the waves, and the ocean will extinguish both its flames and its breath."
Harlan had longed to receive both blessing and command from his god so directly, yet those final words made him hesitate for a brief moment.
"I will gladly make them pay the iron price, my lord," Harlan said, his head bowed, his voice firm with resolve.
"You hesitate, my loyal son," the Drowned God observed.
Harlan wished to deny it, but he knew there was nothing he could conceal from his god. He shook his head quickly, apologising before he spoke again.
"I fear the bastard king and his Dragons— if we were to slain his daughter."
The Drowned God just laughed harshly and Harlan felt like his eardrums almost burst by the sound of it while he could feel nothing but dread.
"Then the bastard king and his kind shall die as well. I care nothing for feeble men, but I will not suffer Abominations of Fire to claim dominion over my waters. Do not fail me, my son. Now begone."
In the next instant, Harlan was hurled from the deepest abyss of the ocean back into his body, lying in his chamber at the Lonely Light within the span of two heartbeats.
He awoke with a violent start, the scent of salt heavy in the air, his lungs burning as though he had truly drowned. One glance was enough to confirm it—he was drenched in seawater, and his bed was soaked through.
He panted heavily as he sat upright in the drenched sheets, struggling to piece together what he had seen. Only dread settled over him as his god's command echoed relentlessly within his mind.
=================
As his god commanded, his men were ready for battle within a single day, and his spies reported that the Mormonts and the lions were preparing to sail. All were eager to prove their superiority over the fools who followed the Greyjoys, who broke themselves over couple of years with their failed ambush after ambush.
Still, Harlan felt a measure of reservation at the thought of directly attacking a dragon and attempting to kill it. He knew the kraken that followed him was far larger than even Vhagar, and within the ocean there was nothing that could match it. Yet it was only one creature, while the bastard king commanded nearly a dozen dragons.
More than that, Harlan had heard the rumours carried by pirates and sailors about the Dance of Dragons near Dragonstone. They spoke of dragonriders training under a mad king who hurled spears at his own kin as though they were bolts from a ballista. At first, Harlan had dismissed such tales as nonsense, but their persistence drove him to see the truth for himself. He had taken a trading ship and watched from afar—and what he saw had stayed with him.
The bastard king was a madman. He bound himself to his dragon with a length of rope, while dozens of spears were secured to the saddle. He would stand upon the dragon's back as it soared wildly through the sky, at times leaving him dangling in midair with only the rope preventing his fall. Even then, his throws were precise.
Harlan had attempted to devise strategies against Silverwing based on what he witnessed, yet not a single attempt had come close to striking true. And now the Drowned God commanded him to attack that madman's daughter. He would obey, because his god had spoken.
His thoughts were broken as his friend, Lord Farwynd, stepped beside him. Harlan glanced at the man and saw both zeal and caution in his eyes.
"My lord, since the day you were saved by the Drowned God, you have been his most ardent devotee, following his commands with unwavering faith. For the first time since then, why do you show worry and doubt regarding his latest command?" Farwynd asked in a low, cautious voice, as though even speaking such words bordered on treachery.
Harlan shook his head. "I am not confused about what I must do, my friend. The Drowned One commands, and I obey. What troubles me is what comes after. The god said the only certainty required is the death of the dragon and the destruction of the ships."
Lord Farwynd laughed at that. "Then the answer is simple, my lord. Take the bear woman as your concubine, and let the ancient tradition of a bear thrall as mistress to the King of Iron be fulfilled."
Harlan nodded slowly. "That aligns with my thinking. The dragon king must not be allowed to strike our castles directly with his dragons. If his daughter is in our hands, we can force any battle onto the seas—where my kraken will destroy them."
Harlan had been watching the ocean, his body moving instinctively with the rhythm of the ship, when he suddenly turned to Farwynd.
"I have a plan to ambush the dragon during the battle," he said, his voice steady. "Do exactly as I say."
=========================
Sunset Sea
Lyanna Mormont
As the wind battered her face, she was tense, unlike the usual calm and relaxation she felt while flying on her Silverwing. Even Silverwing had heeded her words of caution, flying more carefully through the air, without wasting any energy, preparing for the upcoming fight. She still remembered the message her father, the king, had sent her through a dream. There was danger afoot, and even when she pressed him, he did not clearly say how he knew. The only thing he said was that it was from the Ironborn, and not to fly too close to the water because of the kraken. He also offered some wisdom about fighting another day if one stayed alive, or some other nonsense like that. She knew how good she was on dragonback, and if her father, who knew it very well, had warned her, then something bad was going to happen.
She was angry that her father had all but ordered her to abandon her men, men who gave absolute loyalty to Daemon Targaryen, men he had trained so much and invested so much blood in. Lyanna knew that her father sharing his abilities was one of the reasons for the current health and strength of the Mormont men and women. Yet he was selfish enough to sacrifice all that for her life if needed. She knew it was pragmatism in the end, but she wondered how the attack had coincided like this. Without the walkers' attack beyond the Wall, Lyanna knew that her father would have come, if not for her safety, then at least for the new fight that would improve both his and Morghul's strength. But she was not callous or pragmatic enough to abandon her men to the mercies of the Ironborn.
The night sky, with its stars and moon, gave enough light for even her own darkvision to see almost clearly, and even without that, she had enough night birds in the air to see what was happening on the ocean. Her ships were sailing toward the Reach and then Dorne to blockade them. The problem with sailing during the night was that ships could easily be lost. When everyone used distant landmarks as anchors to sail, rarely leaving land out of sight, night sailing was almost never done. Only the truly skilled or desperate sailed through the night in this world. This was where her father's method of travel became such a benefit; using wargs to ensure they were sailing in the correct direction saved both time and cost.
Her thoughts were broken as one of her connections to a bird nudged her. She entered the flying bird's mind, feeling how much lesser it was compared to her Silverwing, yet the purpose was served. She saw the Ironborn ships coming from the west, and she wondered how it was possible, as other Ironborn had not used this trick. She saw the banners of House Hoare, Farwynd, and other prominent houses through the bird's eyes, and she understood how they were coming to ambush them. They sailed in a straight line from Lonely Light in south direction parallel to her own ships sailing and then to the east, cutting her army vertically if she had not seen the ambush.
From her bird's eyes, she saw that the lights were going out as a fog started rolling from the west behind the Ironborn ships. Her bird felt queasy as she tried to enter the fog and then instantly fought her control as fear overpowered the link. She ordered the bird to fly back as she withdrew the connection. She immediately connected to another message bird with the captain of the ships, making the preplanned signal for the coming ambush. The captain picked up the parchment and pointed toward the words "north." Lyanna made the bird shake its head in refusal, and the captain pointed toward the west. The bird nodded, and Lyanna could see the captain was surprised. Then he moved to point toward the number range from ten to a hundred, and Lyanna finally nodded at one hundred, showing that one hundred ships were coming against their one hundred and twenty ships.
The captain immediately gave the signal to prepare as other wargs tried to find the enemy ships, and finally Lyanna left the bird to its own mind.
"This is it, Silverwing." Lyanna said.
Today they would either be the first to earn the title Kraken Slayer, or they would be the reason the entire Iron Islands were glassed, and after centuries an entire culture would be eradicated in the course of War, by her father, emulating their ancient Valyrian history.
The dragon snorted before roaring a challenge to the heavens and all the seas.
Lyanna smirked, feeling the monstrous strength of her dragon. Silverwing might be the most docile one compared to other dragons and the most human-friendly, but she was also a dragon bonded to her and trained under the harsh fire and steel of Daemon and Morghul. Whatever happened, the Ironborn men would not survive today, and her own men would live to tell the tale of her valor and bravery.
===========================
Lyanna did not know how much time had passed, but her men were ready, prepared to give the Ironborn a welcome that would be remembered in legend. Through the eyes of her animals, she watched them move across the ships in disciplined coordination, each action precise and purposeful, like a well-maintained suit of armor shifting in perfect alignment. Pride stirred within her at the sight. Many among them were sailors by trade, yet every single one had been trained for combat, drilled relentlessly in what to do when battle found them at sea.
Using her animals, she tracked the approaching ambush. Even with the advantage of night vision, she saw the unnatural mist creeping in from the west, rolling low over the water toward her fleet. By her calculations, nothing should have reached this position yet, not so quickly, not so quietly. The fog unsettled her. It carried a weight that felt deliberate. She had already warned her men, and they had responded without hesitation, preparing lanterns and readying themselves for reduced visibility. If needed, she intended to turn the Ironborn ships into blazing beacons, sacrificing them to give her fleet the light they required.
Far above, Silverwing glided silently, conserving strength as she rode the currents. Through their bond came a warning, sharper than her own instinct, more certain than sight. The dragon had seen the mist as well, truly seen it, and what she conveyed confirmed Lyanna's suspicions. This was no natural phenomenon. The fog clung unnaturally close to the water's surface, rising no higher than a hundred feet, its boundaries too precise, too controlled to be anything but conjured.
Below, her fleet had already begun to slow. It was a necessary adjustment to prevent the Ironborn ships from using their speed to ram and split her vessels apart. Lyanna understood the mind behind the enemy's movements. Whoever commanded the warg within the Ironborn ranks possessed exceptional skill. The timing was flawless. Night concealed their approach, the fog shielded them from the dragon, and their ships were positioned to entangle themselves within her fleet, limiting her ability to unleash fire without risking her own men.
Since seeing through the fog had become impossible through her flying minions, Lyanna decided to use one of the sharks under her control that was swimming beneath the ships. It took only a slight nudge to guide the creature westward while she tested whether Silverwing's eyes could pierce the fog.
She was almost tempted to rely on her usual tactic—speed, a direct charge through the fog, and liberal amounts of fire—but Daemon's warning made her hesitate. Through the senses of various animals aboard the ships, she heard men calling for preparation as they spotted shapes in the mist. Fire arrows were loosed into the fog, briefly illuminating indistinct forms before being swallowed by the haze once more, the fire smothered by the Fog.
The first thing that made Lyanna sure of the commencement of the attack was that her shark… just died.
Normally, any animals should feel some fear, an instinctual dread, or something like that when they are in the presence of an apex predator, but the shark going towards the Ironborn ships just died without any warning. Only the connection snapping like a tightly wound bowstring made her aware of it, and she didn't have any other swimming animals. Instinct honed by constant battles and training sharpened as she sent a warning to her men who were watching her messenger birds for attacks.
She knew from personal experience that for an animal to be killed just like that, the predator must be something like a dragon. She had lost some animals like that in Dragonstone without any warning as the dragons hunted. A chill entered her mind as she remembered the ancient tales of sea dragons A kraken could be managed, but a creature that wielded water as a dragon wielded fire would be far more troublesome.
Her thoughts fractured when one of the animals aboard a ship reacted in alarm to the call to battle. A bird took flight, and through its eyes she saw them.
Ironborn.
They rose from the sea itself, swimming beneath the ships before emerging at the hulls. They wore armor, axes clenched between their teeth, and their bodies were coated in a sickly green sheen, as though algae had claimed their flesh, reminiscent of the grey stone corruption of greyscale. It took her several heartbeats to comprehend how they had reached the ships.
There were hundreds of them, nearly two dozen for each vessel.
They moved with coordinated precision. Groups of three submerged together, one man standing upon the support of two others. Lyanna could not tell how deep they dove, only that all three surged upward from the depths. When the uppermost man broke the surface, the two beneath him thrust him higher with all their strength, launching him from the water like a breaching dolphin. The man would then clear the railing in a single motion, his axe striking against any of her men standing near the aisle and hooking against the wood to secure his hold. In the same instant, he fixed a rope with a curved hook to the railing, allowing the two below in the ocean to climb swiftly aboard like a monkey.
Fighting erupted over the ships, and only her last-minute warning gave any chance to her men, along with their somewhat enhanced physicality. Even then, it was almost useless because the damned fish-men were also more powerful physically than her men. More than that, they fought like madmen without any fear of injury or death. Still, if the Ironborn ships couldn't board her ships, eventually her men will win just by numbers.
Lyanna closed her eyes and then sighed deeply, preparing herself to give her men that chance. Her men knew what to do, and now she must do her part. The mist by now was starting to envelop her ships, and she knew that it would be very bad for her men and herself. Her hands went towards her pockets, where two vials were held—one was a general healing potion, and the other was pure blood from her father, more potent and something that would stave off death from anything less than beheading. Both were to be used after injury, but she knew that there would be no time for that later.
She took the more diluted healing potion and threw it forward into the air while ordering Silverwing to swallow it. The vial finished its upward arc and started falling down. Just as it reached in front of Silverwing, the neck darted forward, swallowing the vial, including the glass.
Sighing, Lyanna uncorked the more potent blood and finally, with a grimace, swallowed it in a single gulp. She could see some drops still in the glass, which she couldn't do anything about, and she knew how much it was worth. Even the drops would have an effect if they got into a fish or anything when the glass vial reached the ocean floor. It took Daemon immense trust, as well as belief in their own strength, to give them his direct blood. As far as Lyanna knew, only she, Aethan, and Cregan had it for emergencies.
She threw the vial forward as well, making Silverwing swallow that too, even though the small drops of blood would be almost useless for such a magnificent dragon. Lyanna made Silverwing fly backwards, being parallel to her ships and using them to calculate where the Ironborn ships could be in the mist. She understood that she couldn't do her strafing run lengthwise, taking out more ships, because the fog had already enveloped her ships on the sidelines. She wouldn't know when to stop in the darkness, and hence she had to attack the Ironborn ships in the mist by flying parallel to her ships, and she knew that she was losing the advantage of her speed from diving because the Ironborn ships would not be following any type of formation.
Still, she knew it must be done, and with a final command to Silverwing, she closed her eyes entirely, seeing through her dragon's eyes. As the dragon dived, Lyanna connected with her oldest friend, her Bear, who was the size of a mammoth now and still on Bear Island. She woke the beast up and made it go to the whale house and start eating the whale so that Lyanna and Silverwing would have energy to fight more and heal if injured. It was a trick she picked up from seeing Fenrir's feeding frenzy when her father was trying to tame Morghul a decade ago. Only the deepest level of warg bond allowed the energy transference so that one could survive without food if one part of the pair was eating.
Silverwing roared, announcing her domain over land and seas as she dived.
Lyanna almost cursed her dragon for announcing their arrival instead of ambushing them. It was her mistake for not keeping a lid on Silverwing, as dragons were instinctively arrogant enough not to use ambush tactics. She shivered at the sudden coldness of the night air, but her own physical resistance neutralized it. She saw the fog coming faster and faster through Silverwing's eyes, and she could feel the excitement of the dragon at this new enemy. Silverwing pierced the fog, and already she was using her wings to glide forward, gradually using the tremendous speed generated by the dive.
Lyanna felt dread and fear as the fog enveloped her. She felt the fog moving as the wind from the dragon's dive tried to move it, but there was some unnatural resistance. The dragon's eyes were dark for the first time before they adapted and could barely make out things even with dragon sight. Lyanna opened her eyes, and for the first time, she was completely blind, further increasing the dread of the fog. She felt horrible things trying to crawl from the depths of her mind before a roar from Silverwing, both physical and mental, made it vanish.
The command she had given to Silverwing—to control the dive and attack as it thought best—was perfect because only the dragon's instinct could time it without vision of the waters and other ships. Lyanna saw white for a heartbeat when the fire bloomed from Silverwing, before her own eyes adjusted quickly. She was still connected to Silverwing, and she felt the dragon's elation at breathing fire, which appeared to be somewhat stronger than usual. The fire tore through the mist, burning the mist itself, turning it into steam, and finally reached the first ship. Even before the fire reached the ship, Silverwing's forward momentum had already carried it past the cog and reached the next one. The fire spread in the ship in a straight line, then reached the gap between ships and the water, turning some of it into steam before vanishing, and then reached the next ship.
By the time Silverwing finished the first round, ten ships were burning while people tried to stop it. To the amazement of Lyanna, she could see that even with the fire being stronger, it was put down far more easily than usual. The mist itself was trying to suppress the fire on the ships, and the lack of usual winds was also a major reason for the reduced spread of fire.
Silverwing snorted in derision as she watched her work and started flying upwards with rapid beats of her wings. Lyanna sent a tendril of awareness to her animals on the ships to see what was happening there. The fighting there was stalemated, and she saw her men becoming more brutal as they saw the line of fire in the distance Silverwing had left behind.
Lyanna withdrew all presence and completely concentrated on Silverwing, and she reached enough height to get a good dive. The dragon dived, and another five ships ended up in flames. The mist also started burning through and began lessening as it was used to smother the spreading fire. To the frustration of Lyanna, of the first ten ships that were burned, three were saved by completely smothering the fire by the Ironborn as well as the mist.
Silverwing completed her third dive when Lyanna decided to change strategy. She made Silverwing land on the most heavily burning ship. The vessel swayed in the water, almost half-drowned under the dragon's weight and force. A dozen men died beneath Silverwing's claws as she landed. There were ships around the burning one, with only one other ablaze, having caught fire during an earlier dive.
Silverwing took a breath, then moved forward, extending her neck and sweeping fire from right to left in wide arcs, setting entire ships ablaze. The pressure of the fire caused parts of the wood to explode, killing more men.
By then, the ship Silverwing had landed on had split in half where the fire had already burned through. With a grin, Lyanna ordered Silverwing to grab one half with her legs and take flight. With a roar, Silverwing beat her wings harder, lifting half the ship into the air. When they reached nearly seventy feet, Lyanna ordered her to drop it onto two ships at the edge of the formation that had not yet caught fire. As the half-ship fell, Silverwing bathed it in flames, turning it into a fiery bombardment.
Knowing that by now the Ironborn would have readied their ballistas, Lyanna switched to dive-only attacks. Unfortunately, she could only use this on half the remaining ships, as the others had already mixed with her fleet, and fighting had erupted everywhere.
Lyanna carried out two more dive-and-fire runs, and on the third, it happened.
Three ships lay close enough together that a single dive could engulf all of them. Silverwing reached the first two, and both caught fire immediately. As she reached the third, to the absolute surprise of both dragon and rider, the ship—and a massive surge of sea water—was hurled upward, as if something enormous had struck it from below.
The flying projectile struck the dragon in the face and stomach as they were in the dive and was moving forward. The fire pouring from Silverwing was smothered by the sheer volume of water, which flash-boiled into steam, immediately enveloping the entire dragon. If she had been a normal dragonrider, she would have suffered burns, but her enhanced body and heat resistance saved her from it.
Beneath the water and ships, three massive dark green tentacles, covered in scales, had lashed upward. It was only because of how rigorously both she and Silverwing had been trained by Daemon that she managed to react in time. She immediately sent the command to fly upward, and Silverwing obeyed without hesitation, beating her wings rapidly and gaining enough height to avoid immediate defeat.
They wrapped around the dragon's legs and claws, attempting to drag her down. The slight increase in altitude prevented the tentacles from fully closing around the wings or body.
Silverwing immediately threw her full strength into flight, her wings beating harder as she tried to force herself upward. For a brief moment, the tension shifted—the tentacles straightened under the strain, dragged slightly from the depths. Then another tentacle surged up and wrapped around her legs.
Lyanna could barely see them, her view obstructed by Silverwing's body as she sat in the saddle. Silverwing angled her neck downward while still beating her wings, unleashing fire onto the tentacles as seawater cascaded off their slick surfaces. The flames clung for several heartbeats before the flesh began to give, allowing the dragon to gain a small measure of height.
It did not last.
Four more tentacles rose from the ocean and latched onto Silverwing's upper legs, tightening their hold and dragging her down with steady, relentless force. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, yet the tentacles did not weaken.
Lyanna unfastened her belt from the saddle and quickly secured a rope around her waist, tying it firmly to the saddle. Without hesitation, she ran across the dragon's back. Within two steps, her body shifted sideways, her view opening to the writhing mass below and the dark ocean beneath. The moment her eyes landed on the tentacles, a wave of dread struck her mind so violently that her footing faltered, making her almost fall down naturally against her plan.
She forced her mind steady, shaking off the fear with a sharp breath, then shouted as she managed to get a push of the dragon's body using her legs even with her footing faltered. Longclaw was already in her hands, gripped tightly as she prepared to strike.
She was flying sideways from her dragon giving her wider views of the tentacles.
The rope unraveled rapidly before snapping taut, swinging her in a wide arc toward the tentacles gripping the dragon. Knowing fire would burn the rope, she had ordered Silverwing to stop using it. The dragon instead clawed at the tentacles, tearing chunks of flesh and piercing scales where she could reach, though her range was limited.
Lyanna closed the distance.
She used the full force of her swinging momentum, bringing Longclaw down in a brutal swing. The blade cut through the air with a sharp swish, Valyrian steel biting cleanly through one tentacle, severing it completely before crashing into another and carving halfway through before stopping. The sudden halt of her motion sent a jolt through her body, her shoulder almost giving away even with her enhanced body.
Black blood poured from the wounds in thick streams, hissing as it met the seawater below. Drops struck her skin, burning as they touched.
From beneath the ocean came a roar, deep and furious, a sound that churned the water itself with rage. Silverwing answered with a roar of her own, straining harder as she fought against the bindings.
Lyanna was still hanging, using her grip on her sword as well as the rope around her waist. She moved her body and used her legs to stand on one of the tentacles making her body parallel to the ocean, and used the tentacles to leverage and take her stuck sword from the half-severed tentacle. She was successful, and with a heave, she pushed off the tentacles again to use the swinging momentum of the ropes to increase the strength of her sword swing. Before she reached the tentacle, and fortunately before she even started swinging her sword, while in the air, she felt danger and instinctively used her sword to parry a crossbow bolt that came from somewhere. She looked around while the momentum of the swing carried her forward, and she saw an ironborn ship coming from another side, away from the burning ones. It was bigger, and the crossbow bolt had come from one of the lookouts usually standing in the crow's nest above the sail.
The mist almost concealed the ship, but she used Silverwing's eyes to see through it. She spotted a dozen bowmen standing on the deck, releasing arrows toward her. Cursing, she plunged her sword into a tentacle to stop the rope's swinging momentum and pulled herself behind it for cover.
Silverwing immediately turned to breathe fire at the ship, but before she could, a ballista bolt launched from one of the scorpions and pierced her wing, making her roar in pain.
The stalemate between Silverwing trying to fly upward and the kraken dragging her down broke instantly as the dragon lost the upper hand. Lyanna saw Silverwing being slowly pulled toward the water. She began striking rapidly with her sword at any tentacle within reach, slashing again and again in an effort to weaken them.
Without warning, another tentacle surged from the ocean and struck Lyanna from behind, batting her away to halt her attack. She felt her body thrown upward violently, and only the rope tied to the dragon saved her from being hurled hundreds of feet in a random direction. Only her connection with Silverwing gave her enough sense of direction to understand that she was now above the dragon, the rope stretched tight in an upward arc. She knew she would soon be pulled downward again, coming at the tentacles from the opposite side of the dragon, and she also knew the creature would be waiting to strike her once more.
Only her enhanced body spared her from broken bones, leaving her with bruises instead. Another direct hit from the kraken would not be so forgiving. As she moved through the air, she cut the rope the moment she came parallel to the dragon in the arc, sending herself flying toward the ship with the bowmen and the ballista that was being readied for another shot.
Lyanna laughed as she hurtled toward the deck, crashing into two bowmen who barely had time to react. Their bodies broke her fall, though pain still rippled through her as she rolled and knocked three more ironborn to the ground. Adrenaline surged, dulling everything. She sprang to her feet and swung Longclaw in a brutal arc, cutting through arms and necks as she moved through her enemies.
She saw the ironborn preparing to fire the second ballista. Drawing her knife with her left hand, she hurled it with all her strength. The blade struck one of the men near the trigger through the eye, killing him instantly.
Lyanna rushed forward, parrying, slashing, and dodging attacks as she closed the distance. Only her inhuman speed made it possible. She reached the ballista and used her Valyrian steel to destroy its firing mechanism, ensuring no second bolt would be launched. For a moment, she glanced toward her dragon. What she saw made her stomach drop. Silverwing's claws had already been dragged beneath the water.
Lyanna continued to fight, cutting down the remaining ironborn with ruthless efficiency. Even outnumbered, her superior speed and skill made the battle one-sided. She was not even halfway through them when the kraken struck the ship itself. A massive tentacle slammed down and split the vessel in half.
"Fucking octopus cunt, how many tentacles does this fucker have?" Lyanna cursed as another limb rose, ready to crush everything again, uncaring of the ironborn still aboard.
She ran toward the edge, knowing her chances of survival were better if she stayed close to her dragon. Silverwing's legs were already underwater, her wings beating harder and harder as she struggled. Recognizing the situation for what it was, Lyanna let out a harsh laugh before sending a command to Silverwing and leaping from the broken ship toward her.
Silverwing roared as Lyanna hit the water nearby. She had taken a deep breath before the plunge and tried to spot the kraken's body beneath the surface. She barely had time to orient herself before a tentacle wrapped around her, tightening rapidly. The pressure increased as it tried to crush her, forcing the air from her lungs in a stream of bubbles.
The dragon increased her strength and struggled for a couple of heartbeats before abruptly ceasing her attempt to fly upward. Instead, she dove into the ocean as Lyanna commanded. The kraken, which had been exerting all its force to drag the dragon down and counter her strength, was caught off guard. Its grip loosened as the dragon used that very downward force to drive herself deeper into the sea.
The last thing Lyanna heard through Silverwing, just before she lost consciousness underwater, was the furious roar of another dragon—along with a surge of happiness from Silverwing.
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Author's Note: poor lyanna... should have taken the warning more seriously....
Imagining and writing a fights scene with such beasts is not that easy as i thought..
To read ahead 4 chapters: My Patreon : search for black wolf
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My Current Stories:
Grim: Last Hope. (HP/DC/Marvel/Invincible)
Feral Dragon(Wolverine in ASOIAF)
What If ? (One-shot/Chapter 1?)
All For Me. MHA AU. (Haitus)