*Daenerys*
The thick trees surrounded Daenerys on either side of the Roseroad. She felt it was an odd name, as no roses grew near the road, at least, not any that she could see at least. No, she did see a ton of trees, ancient oaks that rose in majesty on either side of her. They could have called it the Woodroad, or something like that. The Forest Road maybe? At least when it reached the Kingswood.
Perhaps she would rename it the Queenswood after this.
Viserion, Rhaegal and Drogon looked like snakes, standing up on their hindlegs as they grabbed the trees to either side of them. They craned their necks, their heads cocked towards the sounds that rose in an approaching wave. Viserion was the closest to her, and she could barely see his massive torso moving with the rhythm of breathing. He was like a cat that had heard a mouse, frozen as if doing so would keep the mouse from spotting until he pounced.
"They are approaching, Great Khaleesi," Aggo remarked. He was one of the three bloodriders of her late husband Khal Drogo. He had sworn loyalty to her after she had risen from Drogo's fire. He had ridden southeast while they were in the Red Waste to find help. He had arrived in Meereen shortly after the Siege of Meereen, offering a wild tale of his exploits in the south.
"Yes Aggo," she replied. She had no fear, no trembling threatened to undo her solemnity. She was Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men. She had faced death so many times and emerged from the flames so often that it was an old trick to her. "We shall wait just a little longer."
Varys had sent all his little birds instructions to send words to Daenerys. Somehow, the ravens had found her, and she had used it to find the loot train. She had burned everything to the ground. She refused to allow the gold of Highgarden to arrive to help Queen Cersei's war effort against her. A few brave men had fired their bows at her, but she had avoided them with ease.
She could have crushed the Lannister forces with ease. She had burned the bridges near Ashford and Grassy Vale to slow their advance. At any time during the march, she could have swooped down with Drogon, or Viserion or even Rhaegal and burned them to a smoldering ash heap. However, she had heard that the Reach army was approaching the same route, and she wanted to end the war in a single blow.
Now they were both here, and by her own command, they had lured the Reach soldiers into the Kingswood. Now, she would be able to crush both armies at a single go, and such a massive loss would put to shame her ancestors triumph at the Field of Fire three centuries ago.
"Khaleesi, may I speak on a personal matter?" Aggo asked.
"Always," she said turning to the tall rider. "You are Blood of my Blood."
"I saw the saddle that the Half-Man made for you," her blood rider said. "Even the Dothraki were saddles on their horses, and you know how we value them as family. I wish you had brought it with you. It would make me feel easier to know you were safe."
"My dear Aggo," Daenerys said, putting a hand on his chiseled biceps. "I am safe with my dragons! They never have and never will drop me. I am their mother and they will protect me with their lives. Yet you know how strong these dragons are and how tough their hide is."
"You are still flesh and blood," Aggo shook his head. "It would go against my heart to see both you and Khal Drogo both die."
"You will never see it," she promised him.
No, she turned back to the battle that was raging closer and closer to her. The Dothraki had been commanded along with the Unsullied to continually move back through the woods, keeping just within sight of their enemies. Hiding up trees were Dothraki screamers who had lost their horses or were willing to ambush the Westerosii. All they needed to do was wait.
So many had died of her brave warriors, but when she burned them all to a crisp, their sacrifice would not be in vain.
Truthfully, the reason she had not brought the saddle had everything to do with her solid and immense trust she had in her dragons. There was also much to be said about the fact that Tyrion had acted like a little bitch and had resigned from his position as Hand. He said it was fact she didn't trust him with the truth of his niece.
Well, why had he been so offended by it? Hells, she was just a girl. She knew his reputation with women, had he been fucking his niece and that was why he was so upset about it? She was convinced he must have had a hand in her defeats in Dorne and the Blackwater. Why else would he be so defensive?
The Dothraki were now getting closer, she could see their horses now at a mere hundred yards off. She could now clearly hear the shouts of warriors and the clash of steel on steel. Now came the time. The time she had been waiting for. The time for fire and blood.
She walked over to Rhaegal, many of his dorsal scales having turned almost black. But his neck and head and many spots still showed his emerald green scales. A few bronze ones still could be seen as clear as day. He stood between his brothers, sniffing the air, his nostrils flat against his face.
"Rhaegal, kneel," she commanded his in High Valyrian. Yet Rhaegal didn't, staring at the sky and sniffing. "Rhaegal, kneel!"
Rhaegal turned his head and blinked twice at Daenerys. She put her hands on her hips, and started tapping her foot, raising an eyebrow. Rhaegal turned his head and snorted once in her face, hot wind blowing her hair around her and forcing her to squint.
"Rhaegal," she stressed his name and put disapproval into her voice. "Don't give me attitude."
Rhaegal shook his massive head and raised it above her head, puffing a cloud of steam. So, that was going to be how it was, was it? He was like a moody young man who refused to listen to anyone. Being Queen had taught her much about how to deal with moody people.
"Fine then," she shook her head. "I was going to ride you into battle and we were going to have great adventures. They were even going to write epic songs about us riding into battle. But, I guess I'll Drogon today."
She turned her back on Rhaegal and began walking towards the black dragon. Drogon barely fit between the trees, having snapped off the top level of foliage that spanned above and across the width of the road in in a far wider radius than his two smaller brothers.
"At least Drogon loves me," Daenerys called behind her. "Loves me more than you."
With a massive thump, a massive emerald green tail came slamming down just feet from her face. Hiding her smile, she kept a mask of sternness as she turned around to see Rhaegal lowering his face towards her. His lip was curled, and he was growling at her, the sound rumbling through her body. She could see the massive teeth that were as wide as her hand was long.
"Look," she held up both hands defensively, "I know you are still smarting over your captivity in Meereen, and you weren't the one at fault. But, if you don't want me to ride you, I will ride Drogon. There's no need to feel bad. It's only natural for the biggest dragon to feel the most love for his mother."
Rhaegal bent down and laid his head on the ground. His eyes….damn, if he didn't look like a little puppy at the moment, wanting affection. Daenerys heart nearly broke at Rhaegal's surrendering to a desire to be the center of his mother's attention. If even for a small bit.
"Alright," she said in mock exacerbation, "If you insist."
She climbed Rhaegal's back, feeling the hard muscles and equally hard scales. She had once been accused by Missandei of favoring Drogon over the other dragons, to which Daenerys had laughed. That was utterly ludicrous. She loved all her dragons equally.
Yet she had come to wonder if she did indeed prefer Drogon over the others. Drogon, the trouble dragon, that had caused her grief in Meereen by eating sheep and burning little children. She had gone out of her way to always ride him. Helped that he had come to her rescue.
She promised to do better about spending time with all of her children. Once the throne was one, she promised to each day go flying to a different part of Westeros every day. How far could she travel in a single day? It was an intriguing question.
But it was one that could wait. Now, she rose. She didn't even have to speak a command to the dragons. Each one seemed to instinctively know it was time to fly. They jumped up, their massive legs propelling them three fourths of the way up the trees in a single bound, which must have at the very least fifteen feet.
Their claws tore into the oaks, cracking them with the strength of their grips. Then, she could feel Rhaegal's body coiling and pressing herself against his neck, she felt his leap forward and up. Branches broke around her, and she felt a few rebounding off her back. She winced as a sharp broken one scratched her shoulder near the bottom, and she felt the skin slightly tear. Warm droplets flowed down her back, despite her heavy black clothing.
And with that, Rhaegal's wings flapped open, expanding as they caught a breeze that was coming from the north. Now that she was above the trees, she leaned back just enough that she could see that massive woods beneath her and the pure sky. No clouds covered this glorious day.
The sun was still rising to the east and with a sharp turn, Rhaegal pointed himself to the west, his two brothers falling into formation around him. Then, with a mental command from her, they began to fly westward.
She could never have described the connection between her and her children. They seemed to understand her thoughts and intents. She did have to verbally communicate from time to time. Yet most of the time, no words were needed to be spoken.
Viserys had once told her a story about the ancient Targaryens. According to him, they had once had a mental link with the dragons. Telepathic, he called it, although she had never understood the true definition of the word. True mental links, he said, had been a gift of such old and great Targaryens such as Aegon and his sister-wives.
The idea had thrilled her. Far more than his fingering her. He had been telling her that as he had shoved his fingers inside of her. She shuddered at the memory, remembering that Magister Illyrio Mopatis who had stopped this vile action.
Yet, the story had always stuck with her and she felt that it was true, no matter the circumstances surrounding the telling. She had always felt connected to her dragons at such an instinctual level, how could it be anything but true?
She looked down, now high above the battlefield. She could see the vast stretches that she had burned the day before. Half of the army was into the actual still standing forest and the rest were marching through the burned outer-edge. She could see another force rallying behind this army. That must have been the Lannisters, while all these were the Reach.
She would deal with the Lannister army last. They had been fighting for their queen! Could she really blame them for being loyal, something she demanded as well of her own people? But these traitors, they had to be dealt with nothing less than fury.
Drogon bellowed his fiery rage. Viserion followed suit and it was Rhaegal who last roared. His whole body trembled as he flew, the efforts of his roars seeming to pass through his entire body. She felt it just as well, and her bones seemed to chatter from the intensity of the vocalization of his raw, untamed power.
She glanced down and whole section of the traitors forces seemed to halt and she saw many faces turn up towards the sky and see the dragons. She flew them low and fast, sweeping over the heads to the doomed and past the Lannister forces. They looked astonished and she saw many on horses, knights and commanders who looked astonished by what they saw. She also saw something else as well, wagons and another thing she couldn't quiet name. The Lannisters panicked and scurried into a wide circle around the wagons and whatever they were.
Well, she'd come back and deal with them. With a pull to the left, Daenerys turned Rhaegal around in a wide loop, passing over the carpets of dead bodies that carpeted the battlefield. They swung out to the low-lying foot hills and turned as they reached the edge. She made a tight turn with Rhaegal, and his brothers followed suit, flanking him on either side. Then, lined straight up, she flew hard and fast.
The entire width of the rear portion of the Reach's army was exposed, and they would be able to strafe the entire width of it. Soldiers were already breaking ranks, fleeing and running for their lives. Hundreds were running, those who were smart enough to realize what was about to happen. Unfortunately for them, they looked like small insects.
They were cockroaches. And how did one deal with cockroaches?
"Dracarys," she commanded.
Three massive jets of flame spewed out and down on the soldiers beneath her flying dragons. They flew low, their fire scorching man and beast alive. Hundreds of men, no, thousands vanished in a single jet of fire. They were able to spew fire for a good ten seconds each go, and hundreds of men were either flash burned or ran around, their armor cooking them.
If one looked closely enough, as Daenerys did, she could see that the fires were not completely similar. Drogon's fire had a black tint at the very edge. Viserion had golden flames at the very edge. Rhaegal had a green. Most people wouldn't have been able to see it, as they were at the receiving end of it. Daenerys however had the luxury of seeing the tinted color.
They came to the edge of the army across the foothills on the northern side and saw a massive horde of Dothraki waiting. They cheered as she flew over them. This was the remaining fifty thousand she had held back in reserve. Now, as she made her tight turn, they roared forward, flying over the hills as if their hooves had wings. Their goal was to hit the Lannister forces and overrun them if they could. It was another reason why she was holding out on making the attack on them.
As she looked out across the field as they came for another run, she pressed their flight closer to the forest. Soldiers were panicked, not knowing which way to go. If they ran to the west, they would run into the fires that burned their comrades. If they went east, there was Dothraki still there. They didn't see the horde pounding over the hills.
She would remove the need to answer the question from them.
If everything was going according to plan, she would be able to continue burning the traitors with fire as her Dothraki and Unsullied resumed their attack from within the forest. She would burn down the forest around them if she had to.
As she saw the massive flames that rose from the fields and the burning torches that were men as they died, she felt aroused. Yes, this was exactly what made her hot and bothered. She enjoyed the sight of fire and men burning. Not as much as she had heard her father did. He did it cruelly. But, there was eroticism in seeing her enemies burn before her.
She took a deep breath to steady herself. Now was not the time for sex or sex-filled thoughts. No, now was the time to burn the traitors to the ground. Her dragons let loose, scorching the earth and hundreds of more men. Men ran into the forest in massive droves, and Daenerys pointed a finger down where the Roseroad entered the Kingswood. Drogon wheeled, being on her left and swept down the massive road, letting loose jets of flame that bathed road and trees that surrounded it.
Men screamed and burned. A few brave souls let loose arrows but they all missed their mark. Many of the arrows were caught in the fires and burned in the inferno while the others were so wild that they missed the mark by a wide margin. The entire outside of the woods was soon abandoned as the soldiers of the Reach ran for the forest for refuge. The last man she burned on this run she saw had abandoned all his gear and had run for the hills.
She took sexual pleasure in burning him to ash as she flew past. At the edge of the hills, she turned around, and this time, she aimed to fly straight over the forest and set it aflame. A cruel smile touched her lips as she savored the flames and smoke that rose in giant columns over the battlefield.
