At that moment, within the Riverlands army, Lord Elmo Tully sat atop his horse, staring at the sudden turn of events. His lips trembled uncontrollably.
"Hold them back!" he roared, his voice filled with despair.
"Hold them back! Don't retreat! Don't run!"
But his voice was already drowned out by the chaos.
His soldiers were routing. They were scattering in every direction, throwing away their weapons, stripping off their armor, running anywhere they could.
"Loose!" Alysanne Blackwood's sharp, piercing voice rang out nearby.
"Shoot the kinslayer on that dragon!"
The Riverlands archers drew their bows. Beside them, the Raven Teeth also raised their specially crafted longbows.
More than a hundred arrows shot toward Aemond atop Vhagar.
Aemond saw them.
He saw one arrow flying straight toward the gap at his neck. It was fast and precise, fitted with a specially made barbed head that would never come back out once it pierced flesh.
His reaction was instantaneous.
He reached out and caught the arrow firmly in his hand.
The arrow stopped dead in his grasp. The shaft still trembled slightly, its tip less than an inch from his throat.
Then his fingers closed.
A faint crack sounded from his palm, and the shaft snapped in two.
Alysanne's eyes widened.
Aemond lowered his head and looked at the broken arrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Mortals are nothing more than this."
Then he tossed the broken arrow aside and sneered.
"Dracarys."
Vhagar opened her jaws, and a torrent of dragonfire swept toward the Riverlands battle line.
The archers had no time to flee before the flames engulfed them.
Their screams lasted only a moment—a single cry before they vanished.
Although Alysanne reacted quickly, she was still blasted off her feet by the shockwave from the dragonfire and thrown to the ground.
Aemond and Vhagar began moving forward, advancing directly into the Riverlands ranks.
Then he saw him.
Not far away, beneath the Tully banner, stood Elmo Tully.
Every movement Vhagar made brought massive casualties among the Riverlands host. The entire army was now collapsing into a complete rout.
The Lord of Riverrun sat frozen on his horse, staring at Prince Regent Aemond in terror.
Then he violently yanked on the reins and prepared to flee east as fast as he could.
But it was too late.
Now close enough, Aemond leapt from Vhagar's back.
Though clad in heavy plate armor, he dropped from the dragon's back dozens of feet above the ground and landed directly in front of Elmo's horse.
The tremendous impact instantly collapsed all four of the horse's legs.
The sound of shattering bones rang out clearly.
The horse let out a miserable scream before crashing to the ground, throwing Lord Elmo from the saddle.
Elmo hit the ground hard.
His helmet rolled away, revealing a panicked face.
Brown hair.
Blue eyes.
Thin lips.
But now his face was twisted with fear.
His lips trembled with fear.
His eyes were wide with fear.
Lying on the ground, he shook uncontrollably.
Aemond stood before him.
Moonlight bathed his figure. His silver hair drifted in the wind, and his violet eyes were cold and merciless.
Looking down at Elmo, he said: "Elmo?"
"You dare oppose me...?"
"Are you worthy?"
Elmo's lips trembled. He tried to speak, but no words came out.
His entire body shook like a leaf.
"Prince Regent... n-no... no..."
"I surrender to you... I surrender..."
"Please... spare me..."
"Spare my family..."
"I'll give you anything... anything..."
Aemond looked at the Lord of the Riverlands begging for mercy.
Then he raised Blackfyre and brought it down in a single swing.
Valyrian steel cut through iron as if it were paper.
Elmo's helmet split apart like parchment.
His head flew from his shoulders, spinning several times through the air.
His eyes were still open.
His mouth was still hanging open.
The terror remained frozen on his face.
Then the head hit the ground, rolled several times, and came to rest in a pool of blood, smeared with mud and gore.
Blood erupted from the severed neck, splashing all over Aemond.
He did not dodge.
He simply stood there, allowing the blood to spray across his face, his armor, and Blackfyre.
Blood covered his face.
Blood covered his hair.
"Lord Elmo!" the nearby Tully knights cried out in grief and fury.
"He killed Lord Elmo!"
"Avenge Lord Elmo!"
More than twenty knights at his side lowered their lances and charged at Aemond.
They were the finest knights of House Tully, clad in the best armor, riding the best horses, wielding the best swords.
They had sworn oaths to serve and protect their lord.
There was no fear in their eyes.
Only rage.
Standing on the ground, Aemond looked at them, spread his arms, and threw back his head in laughter.
His laughter echoed through the night sky.
"Dracarys!"
Behind him, Vhagar opened her jaws and unleashed a torrent of dragonfire.
Golden dragonflame swallowed Aemond.
It swallowed the charging knights.
It swallowed everything around them.
The knights screamed, rolled across the ground, and burned to ash.
Then the flames faded.
Aemond still stood where he was.
Completely unharmed.
Across the battlefield, everyone stopped.
"The lord is dead!" fleeing Riverlands soldiers shouted.
The entire Riverlands army had begun to rout.
They threw away their weapons, discarded their shields, stripped off their armor, and ran desperately eastward—running anywhere they could.
The lords fled first, spurring their horses forward without a single glance back.
The soldiers followed behind them like a flock of terrified sheep.
Even the Northern host began to waver.
Men started fleeing there as well.
Cregan Stark sat astride his horse, watching it all with a livid expression.
He refused to accept it.
He refused to accept defeat like this.
So many men had died.
So many brothers had fallen.
He had spent so long setting this trap.
After all that effort, he had finally cornered the Westerlands army.
One last push, and he could have destroyed them.
"My lord!" Rylly's voice rang out beside him, hoarse and urgent. "We have to go! We have to leave! We can't stop them anymore!"
But Cregan did not move.
"Starks!" he roared, his voice raw. "Stark riders, with me!"
He spurred his horse toward Aemond.
Behind him, more than a hundred Northern cavalrymen followed, raising lances, swords, and axes as they charged desperately toward the silver-haired, violet-eyed prince.
There was no fear on their faces.
Only fury.
Their lord was charging.
So they would charge as well.
Vhagar turned her head toward the approaching riders and opened her jaws.
"Dracarys."
The flames erupted.
They descended like a golden, blazing sun crashing from the heavens.
The front ranks of cavalry were engulfed instantly.
They did not even have time to scream before they were reduced to ash.
The riders in the rear yanked on their reins and scattered in every direction.
Some were thrown from their horses and tumbled across the ground, only to be trampled by those behind them.
Cregan's horse was grazed by the flames.
The beast let out a terrible scream and collapsed.
Cregan was thrown from the saddle and rolled across the ground, battered and bleeding.
He struggled to get back up.
Then someone grabbed him.
The man wrapped his arms around Cregan and rolled desperately toward the lakeshore.
Together they plunged into the lake.
The freezing water swallowed them whole.
By now, many of the Northmen and Riverlords had completely broken.
They threw down their weapons.
They abandoned their banners.
They fled in every direction.
Those who ran too slowly dropped to their knees, raised their hands, and surrendered.
Those who ran fast enough disappeared into the darkness without ever looking back.
At the head of the advancing royal guards, Hall rode forward with the army, holding high the Targaryen dragon banner.
Upon the black field, the golden three-headed dragon gleamed beneath the moonlight.
"Raise the dragon banner!" he shouted.
"Swear loyalty to the Prince Regent!"
The royal guards answered in unison: "Raise the dragon banner! Swear loyalty to the Prince Regent!"
Their roar echoed through the night, drowning out the screams.
Thousands of voices merged into a single torrent that rolled across the surface of the lake.
The Westerlands soldiers looked at that banner.
They looked at the Prince Regent standing in the center of the battlefield.
Then they too dropped to their knees.
"Swear loyalty to the Prince Regent!"
"Swear loyalty to the Prince Regent!"
Lefford knelt upon the ground, covered in blood and wounds.
He raised his head and looked at the silver-haired, violet-eyed man.
He looked at that young, indifferent face.
A complicated emotion welled up inside him.
Aemond had saved them.
And he had doomed them.
Had it not been for his orders, they would never have marched north.
They would never have been trapped here.
So many men would never have died.
Yet it was also Aemond who had arrived in the final moment with dragons and an army, saving those who remained.
Lefford did not know whether he should hate him or thank him.
He only knew one thing.
From this day forward, the Westerlands owed him a life debt.
Aemond stood in the middle of the battlefield and removed his helmet.
His long silver hair spilled down beneath the moonlight, gleaming with a cold radiance like a waterfall.
His violet eyes swept across the battlefield.
Across the prisoners kneeling on the ground.
Across the corpses still burning.
Across the lake whose waters had been stained red with blood.
Tonight had been perfect...
Through this war, he had dealt a devastating blow to the North, the Riverlands, and the Westerlands alike...
Two great lords were already dead...
And one remained...
Missing.