—Somewhere along the cliffs—

Armed with only Stormbringer, Daveth had separated himself from the main unit of his armies—absconded off to sneak into the Red Keep via one of the secret passages he's aware of. Treading along the shoreline, the gulls cawed, but the sound of the fighting continued to rage on behind him. Some part of him felt bad for leaving his troops and Kingsguard knights behind to go off on his own, but this was something the Young Stag felt he had to do alone. It had to be him; someone else might have gotten it wrong.

I'm sorry for doing this, Robb. You too, uncle Jaime. Brienne, Olyvar. But I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to my family. That's why I had to go. This is my burden to bear, my responsibility, my fight. I hope you'll understand someday, he reflected.

Contemplating on how far he's come throughout these years, Daveth had gone from a carefree little boy, grew as a hardened adolescent molded by trauma, mature in the decadence of war, and to having now transitioned into something—into someone—he of all people had not expected to be. Life has a strange way of paving a man's path, his destiny, but Daveth swore he must be going mad at such philosophy because he felt himself giving a small chuckle. Had things been played out differently, he might have been exactly another Tywin Lannister… only with black hair and the Baratheon physicality.

Perhaps… redemption isn't so bad.

If he had to sacrifice himself so that his wife Sansa, their sons Lyonel and Torrhen, their daughter Cassana, his sister Myrcella and his brother Tommen could live… then so be it. But first, he had to get into the Red Keep, find them and get them out to safety before it was too late. Daveth, of course, forced himself to press onwards despite the pain in his chest and ribs still being present.

Gagh! Seven hells, it hurts! Come on now. Don't stop. You're almost there, damn it!

Ignoring the discomfort, he kept going. Upon turning the corner, Daveth was finally able to reach the mouth of the cave leading into the Red Keep. Perfect! This is what he's been looking for. Even still, the secret passages were supposedly full of traps; some made of stone, others are earth supported by timber. The only individuals familiar with the secret passages were King Maegor the Cruel, Petyr Baelish and Varys. Thankfully, Daveth was made aware of such passages from Varys and his little birds during his adolescence and still remembered where to go.

He hadn't taken two steps towards the cave until he heard a voice behind him.

"So… we meet again, Oathkeeper," the stranger revealing to be Yara Greyjoy wading onto the beach spitting out seawater. The Iron Fleet and Royal Fleet burned in the distance behind her. Armed with a longsword, Yara had been waiting at this spot for quite some time.

Daveth stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Yara Greyjoy," he remembers her vividly. He hadn't seen her since the he sentenced her in her trial after the end of the Second Greyjoy Rebellion. He recalled Yara having escaped captivity from House Glover's cells and fled to Essos to serve Daenerys. She must still be wanting revenge after all these years. Foolish ironborn. "Go away. You don't interest me," he tells her.

"Well, you'd best get interested because I still have an old score to settle with you," replied Yara defiantly. "Don't think after all these years I haven't forgotten what you've done. Killing my father, butchering my countrymen like cattle, destroying our home, turning my own brother against me… I could go on and on." She raised her blade at Daveth. "But I've waited for this moment for far too long. It's finally happening. I've got you right where I want you."

"Loras Tyrell couldn't kill me, your uncle Victarion couldn't kill me, the Night King couldn't kill me… Many have tried long before you."

"Ah, but look at you now. Out here by yourself, all alone. With no one nearby to come save you from the kraken's wrath. Are you hurting? Are you in pain? Good. 'Cause what you're feeling pales in comparison to what I'm going to do to you. You are going to suffer before you die an agonizing death like no man ever has."

Daveth turned to confront her, gripping Stormbringer's handle tight. "You'll find this stag has a lion's teeth and claws to match his antlers," he countered. "You're rather formidable so long as you're at sea. But what happens when you drag a kraken out of the water? No bones."

"But what happens when there are greater numbers involved? But… my niece does have a point in what she says. What will your chances be by then, boy?" Euron asked, revealing his presence from behind the cave.

The Young Stag looked back behind him; there he was. His lifelong nemesis, the man who orchestrated the raid on Lannisport and murdered all his friends in front of him as a child, the same man who brutally tortured him for half a year and near effectively ruined his life was standing there. Yara Greyjoy in front, Euron Greyjoy behind him… Daveth found himself outnumbered by the Greyjoys. But the sight of Euron triggers something in the Young Stag once more; he still held the vivid memories, not just at Lannisport – reminiscing his own childhood trauma, the abuse… everything. More recently, there was his brutal murdering of Varys at the gates the day before.

"You," Daveth hissed through gritted teeth, locking his eyes on Euron as the King of the Iron Islands and Yara both started circling around him. They were sizing him up, favoring the scent of the meal that was to come.

"Surprised to see you out here by yourself while a battle rages on," he mocks. "Listen to that. Can you hear it? Listen!" he grinned wickedly. A true sadistic psychopath. "That's the sound of a city dying inside and out. Don't you understand? It's over."

"Maybe for you, perhaps. So long as one of us still breathes, this fight is not over."

"Your maesters teach you that logic or did you come up with that on your own? I could pay a little visit to your wife."

…Du-dum…

Daveth felt his nerves twitch, his anger rising and the tightening grip on his blade. It sounded vaguely like a threat.

Connin, Orwen, Drannyl, Briden…

"Or perhaps one of your little brats? What're their names… hmm, let me see. Oh! Lyonel, Cassana, Torrhen and the one that hasn't even been born yet," he continued.

…Du-dum…

Rechar, Rodner, Darnis Swyft, Culler…

"Ah so that are their names! Now I remember. You have a family now," Yara exclaimed with glee. "Seems only a fair trade to take yours since you took ours."

…Du-dum…

Alrah, Jon Arryn, father, Ned Stark…

Euron noticed Daveth staring blankly at the ground and his whole body beginning to tremble. He laughed maniacally. "Oh look! He's finally losing it. How sad is it to see a grown man shrivel up, quivering in his boots," he cupped Daveth's chin, forcing the Young Stag to look directly at him at eye-level. "'Oooh! No! Let go of me! You can't do this! Let me go! Let me go!'" he mockingly imitated a frightened Daveth. "HAHAHAHA! I still remember that! Oh, the look on your face that day was priceless!"

Fitting tributes to the Drowned God, wouldn't you say? Or… to me since I am the Drowned God?

The flashbacks wouldn't cease.

…Du-dum…

Grandfather, mother, Barristan Selmy, Varys…

"Just kill him already, uncle!" Yara shouted impatiently. "We've got him right where we want him! Just kill him and let's be on our way to finish the rest of them."

The King of the Iron Islands ignored his niece. "Look at me, boy," he beckoned.

…Du-dum…

Daveth slowly raised his eyes to glare angrily at Euron. He looked like he was about to snap at any moment yet remained motionless even as his body shook – any ounce of self-restraint against his growing anger, rage and fury were quickly failing.

"If you kill another King before you die, they'll sing songs about you forever."

"You… you are no King," the Young Stag venomously spat.

Euron shook his head with amusement. "Oh, but I am. And once you're finally out of the way for good, I'm going to fuck your Queen. I'm going to fuck her bloody until she's but a shell of her former self, hold each of your brats' heads underwater until they drown; maybe even bash their heads against the walls hard enough until there's nothing but brains splattering everywhere. That way the Queen will give me an heir or two. I'll take her and the Seven Kingdoms too. All for myself. That's how it works, paying the iron price. We take what is ours," He pressed the blade of his battleaxe against the Young Stags throat. "But don't worry. I'll bring your head to Sansa, that way you can kiss her one last time."

That was the final straw that broke the dam. Oh, blood will out. It cannot be contained anymore. All Daveth could see right now… was red.

No. No, you won't! You are not taking anyone else from me ever again! Do you hear me, Euron?! NEVER! "I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!" he roared.

To their amazement, Daveth gathers every ounce of his strength and swung Stormbriner wildly at both Euron and Yara with surprising speed – bringing down a powerful overhead swing onto a rock with a great clang. However, because he had still not recovered from his injuries during the battle at Winterfell, his movements were sluggish and somewhat threw off his balance. This made each swing easy enough for Euron and Yara to dodge by jumping back to avoid the Valyrian steel sword before both raised their blades and pressed on with a joint attack of their own.

*CLANG!*

*CLASH!*

—Elsewhere—

Sandor Clegane huffed and forced himself out through one of the smallest gaps in the tunnel; he was a big man, about 6' 6" – it took a while, a bit of nudging and tight, painful maneuvering but he forced open the sewer's cover and climbed through. The Hound found himself at the Hook near one of Littlefinger's brothels, the Blue Pearl. Everything was on fire—whether it's from the bombardment of wildfire bolts shooting into the streets or from the fleets burning on Blackwater Bay. He froze for a bit before laying eyes at the Red Keep, high upon Aegon's High Hill.

He never thought to ever return to King's Landing, especially not after he deserted the field at the Battle of Blackwater Bay. It was from that moment that caused him to be hunted like an animal, a sizeable bounty placed on his head. Sandor never forgave Daveth for making him a wanted man – declaring him a wanted man to be taken in dead or alive, but some part of him must have begrudgingly known deep down that the cause of it was his own doing. Either way it didn't matter, and he pressed forward, passing by scattering civilians fighting back against their occupiers or trying to escape the carnage.

"Out of my way," he pushed a merchant aside.

More debris collapsed, scattering across the streets with more bolts and arrows was sent soaring through the air. Sandor avoided the shots and turned to see four ironborn armed with axes turning to see him.

"Fuck off," the Hound warned them.

Needless to say, the ironborn immediately rushed to engage Sandor in battle. He easily dispatches each of them in turn, deflecting their axes off before cutting them down—bringing a downward slash onto one's skull, impaling one through the chest, swinging upwards to disembowel a third before bringing his longsword around to sink it deep into the last one's neck.

"Yeah, that's you. That's how your kind has always been." He looked up to the Red Keep. "Now… let's see how grown up our little bird has become."

—At the gates—

"Heave!"

*BAM!*

"Heave!"

*BAM!*

One blow after another, the battering ram continued railing against the Iron Gate with tremendous force; those who scaled the walls with the ladders were preoccupied dealing with the ironborn marauders manning the scorpion artillery under Jon Snow's command. They were able to lessen the blow to the rest of their comrades on the ground whilst they were busy mopping up what remained of the Golden Company; from afar, what was left of the largest mercenary company in the world was being quickly consumed by this seemingly numerous horde of Northmen, Vale knights, men and women from every corner of Westeros bearing down on them with fierce ferocity despite the numerable losses they themselves had sustained.

Another blow and the Iron Gate's hinges moved under the impact.

"The hinges are giving way!" one of the Westermen pointed out.

"Keep hitting it with everything we've got!" another Riverlord shouted.

"Heave!"

*BAM!*

"Heave!"

*BAM!*

"One more time! Heave… HO!"

A surging mob of soldiers and militiamen wrestled with the huge ram – a shaft of black oak with an iron head and crashed it into the Iron Gate once more. Once, twice, thrice… on the fourth hit, the hinges are forcibly removed, and the gates swing wide open – allowing the royal armies on the ground to storm into King's Landing and mop up what remained of enemy forces.

"The gates have breached! All forces, get inside! To the Red Keep!" shouted a Reach officer.

"HA-OOH! HA-OOH!"

Jon Snow cleaved another ironborn in two when he noticed the armies on the ground either pushing their way into King's Landing through the Iron Gate or climbing the ladders with him to deal with other enemy combatants still manning the scorpions and other long-range artillery mounted atop the ramparts. It would take them a while considering the length of the walls themselves, but the White Wolf calculated with at least a couple of hours they'd have dealt with the immediate threat: the siege weapons and hidden traps pinning them down; the enemy's main intent was simply on delaying their advance as much as possible.

"Ninth Platoon, get to the parapets stationed at the west! Second Platoon, you guys take the east! The rest of you, lads, protect the civilians from Flea Bottom to the Great Sept of Baelor! Keep them away from the fighting!"

Something doesn't seem right. It's far too easy, Jon suspected.

*KABOOM!*

Wait!

*TWANG!*

"No, no, no!"

"Move! Out of the way!"

He heard more screams emanating from inside King's Landing; just as he theorized, Jon noticed dozens more traps stationed near the gates and streets were going off: repeating crossbows stationed in dark alleys firing off a round of bolts at unsuspecting troops running through Flea Bottom, the Street of Sisters, the Hook, the Street of Silk and Rhaenys' Hill. Ironborn had strategically placed traps directly in their pathway.

Come on, saboteurs. Where are you?

An arrow was shot into the air, which loudly exploded, revealing a green powder pouring from the detonation. It came from Tanner's Tannery.

Okay, there's team one.

Another arrow was projected into the air, dispersing a yellow powder followed by another which released a red powder.

Teams two and three? Good, they're in the city.

By then, more of the local populace begin shouting and yelling – the sounds steadily grow louder; it was closely a massive city-wide riot, but Jon still felt something was off. More soldiers and militia charge through the charred and burning city streets. Bodies of the ironborn and Golden Company were strewn everywhere. An ironborn marauder tries to set upon Olyvar, but the Kingsguard knight gores him clean through with his sword. Other raiders make futile attacks that are quickly dispatched by the charging Vale cavalry. Before them, the streets—once clear of civilians before the occupation—were now filling up to max capacity with Daveth's armies.

Robb and the direwolves Grey Wind and Ghost pass through the Iron Gate, making their way among the pile of bodies. Ahead of them, some of the Dornish spearmen clear the streets. Beyond them is a bell tower and, further back to the right, is the Dragonpit, and beyond that to the left, is the Red Keep itself.

"Just bear with me, Sansa," Robb said with hope in his voice. "I'm coming to get you. Just—"

"ROBB!" Jon yelled from above the ramparts. "Incoming! We've got company!"

The Young Wolf's ears perked up at the faint sound of Jon Snow's warnings traveling through the air. All he heard was 'incoming' and 'company.' This caused him to turn around and venture outside the gates once more with his men and half of the royal forces still outside waiting to be let in but froze in their tracks when the air was filled with the sound of horses, hooves and whooping.

Bronn pauses and strains to hear a noise far in the distance.

"What is it?" Robb inquired.

"Shh!" the sellsword hushed. "Listen."

Horses and high-pitched war cries are growing ever more louder beyond the hill miles up the Rosby road. Robb recognizes the faint noise and takes off at a gallop yelling orders to the rest of the soldiers.

"To arms! Fall in line! Fall in line on me!" he commanded.

Those who didn't accompany their comrades through the breach turned to see what the commotion was all about and immediately sprang into action; assuming a defensive position and facing in the direction of their attackers, the royal army were readying themselves for an apparent onslaught. Archers line up behind the spearmen, infantry raised their shields to form a wall.

"In line now!" Bronn commanded.

When the whooping, horses and hooves approach, the line of sight becomes much clearer; 20,000 Dothraki and 2,000 Unsullied charge into view over the hill with curved swords held over each of the Dothraki's heads and spears gripped tightly by the Unsullied. There are thousands of them, but the 250,000 of the remaining 400,000 royal forces remained steadfast and ready.

"Get in the city," Bronn advised. "You're a commander, not a damned infantryman. Plus, you've got both your sisters in there, don'tcha? We'll hold off the rest of these fuckers."

Robb looked and nodded. "Keep yourselves safe," he recommended.

"No promises, but I'm damn bettin' to stay alive until I get what was promised."

Turning his horse around, Robb rode back into King's Landing with Grey Wind and Ghost following close behind him. Jon watched from atop the ramparts and climbed back down the ladders, intending to follow suit.

You'd best keep yourself alive. We've got to get Sansa and the others out of there!

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter End

Author's Note: Here's part three of the climactic battle to liberate King's Landing; Daveth is now fighting Euron and Yara Greyjoy by himself in a one-on-two battle to the death just beneath the cliffs near one of the secret passages into the Red Keep. Given the current condition he's in, he'll be fighting for his life. But what of Euron's taunting and getting inside Daveth's head like that? Part of his psychological warfare strategy? These two have a deeply long, bitter history with one another. As for the others outside, Robb and Jon both led a successful breaching of the Iron Gate but one of them is forced to stand their ground as the Dothraki and Unsullied both make their presence known and attack while the others' backs were turned. How will this all play out in future chapters? Stay tuned for more updates!

Just in case you guys have any questions... over 150,000 troops are now literally inside King's Landing itself; Euron knows the location of the secret passage because Jon Connington was the one who told him where it was.

Bad Ass Female Fighter: Daveth, aim for the Kraken's balls.

Svenion: kinda ready for the battle to be wrapped up. any greyjoy alive after the rebellion is a waste

ABEBOABDU: come man hurry it up the suspense is killing me

C.E.W: Yara still hasn't accepted her father's guilt in causing the death of the Ironborn on the Iron Islands. Now she must pay as will her uncle Euron and Jon Connington will too.

The Dothraki and Unsullied coming pose a series threat. Daveth has to finish Euron and Yara soon, perhaps Rhaegel can help. Next chapter I'm guessing the big dragon clash between the dragon riders. Or perhaps will it be Jon Snow who rides Rhaegel against Daenerys on Drogon, prove that he worthy of the blood of the Targaryens as Rhaegar's son.

Hear My Fury: Kill him painfully next chapter, Yara too.

Bio RL: Thanks for the chapter