—In the Red Keep—
Steel clashed and clanged upon impact, men shouted and cursed; wolves lunged through the air in the small space. As everything was ablaze around them, Robb and Jon stood shoulder-to-shoulder against Connington and his men. Sandor and Arya had their fair share of keeping them away from the hostages even as a great section of the walls starts to collapse around them, revealing the ferocious wildfire inferno below gradually getting more potent with each explosive blast. Maegor's Holdfast begins shakes and many try to keep their balance. Time was a precious thing; and it felt it was growing shorter.
*CLANG!*
*CLASH!*
"Stupid boy," Connington cursed, deflecting a blow from Robb and parried. "Your grandfather and uncle were tried and tested, yet they failed in the end."
"The North has never forgotten the crimes House Targaryen has committed," Robb grunted. "Never again will the dragons' tyranny terrorize this land!"
Jon attempted to land a decisive blow from behind with Longclaw, but Connington anticipated the charging thrust and sidestepped and elbowed him in the face.
"You think that will work on me, Prince Aegon? I've been fighting in many battles since before you or any your cousins were born. I have nearly 30 years of combat experience and my time in exile across the Narrow Sea only served to make me stronger," he said. "Prince Rhaegar was stronger than me, easily one of the best swordsmen of his time. You disgrace his legacy."
"And yet you lost to Robert Baratheon at Stony Sept because you got careless," Jon countered. "You're being careless again, Connington!"
Again being reminded of his failures at the Battle of the Bells angered him. "SILENCE, BOY!" he shouted and grabbed Jon, flinging him over his shoulder. "The same mistake will NOT be repeated here! This will not be another Battle of the Bells! This time, I am going to do what I should have done twenty-five years ago! Since you're all in one spot, all of King's Landing… will burn!"
*CLANG!*
*CLASH!*
Above them, chunks of the ceiling fall onto the floor – forcing many to scatter in different directions. With a knowing look, Sandor rushes forward. Arya engages three of Connington's guards and easily dispatches them; her experience in her first battle at Winterfell against the undead proved useful. The Hound easily dispatches each of the sellswords sent to engage him in turn. Grey Wind—although wounded with two crossbow bolts—tore out the throats of three more before being surrounded by four guards and stabbed repeatedly. Ghost, howling in anger, lunged at each of them individuals—latching onto them with its teeth and biting down hard.
"That will never happen," Jon responded. The White Wolf moves to intercept each of Connington's swings, bringing Longclaw around to parry and sweep, thrust and dodge. Although the Targaryen-Stark held his own, Connington was older and more experienced in the art of warfare.
*CLANG!*
*CLASH!*
"You still have much to learn, Prince Aegon. Pity you were brought in by the wrong family."
"Ned Stark took me in and raised me as his own after my mother died on the birthing bed! It was Lyanna's dying wish to her brother, my uncle. Everything he did, growing up with a bastard's name, he did it to protect me. Talk about House Stark all you want, but my cousins ARE my family and I won't let you hurt them!" He pushed him away. "What you're claiming as justification does not undo what was already done. The war is over." Jon cannot argue; he's seen too much horror already. He doesn't care about his own skin but his cousins Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon – that's a very different matter.
"This war is not over until every single man, woman and child of the Baratheon line is extinguished forever, boy," Connington countered.
"I won't let you do that, Connington!"
"The moment the walls were breached the battle was over. You compromised yourselves; exposed your vulnerable flanks for us to exploit. Queen Daenerys gave you lots every chance to surrender peacefully, but you stubbornly refused all the same and chose to take up arms against House Targaryen again."
*CLANG!*
*CLASH!*
During the conversation, Sandor effortlessly picks up a guardsman by the neck and smashes the back of his head against the rubble-strewn wall, cracking his skull and tossing him over the exposed ledge.
"It's easy to judge when you're standing far from the battlefield. You invaded their homes!" Jon felt his voice growing increasingly heated.
*CLANG!*
*CLASH!*
"Don't judge me, boy! Everything I did was necessary for the greater good. For the Targaryen dynasty's complete restoration."
Those words made Jon visibly angry. "Necessary?! For the greater good?!" he asked in disgust. "Have you seen what you've done?! Have you seen?! Men, women, elders, and the children… little children BURNED!" he protested shakenly, unable to put his emotions in check.
The two locked blades in a fierce deadlock, with the White Wolf himself pressing as much force against the standstill – but Connington, being more experienced and veteran combatant hailing from the Stormlands, pushed back and forced Jon away.
"The land was already at peace under your grandfather's reign," Connington argued. "Everyone had already been thriving, the royal coffers were full, no wars, no conflict… Everything was doing well until Lord Rickard Stark and his son Brandon had to provoke the dragon's anger. Them and Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon! Had Lord Jon Arryn been only the ever-faithful servant of the crown, such death and chaos would NOT have been necessary to begin with!"
*RUMBLE!*
"But it seems nothing will ever get through to you. No, House Stark's influence has poisoned your mind too well," he continued. "If you will not see reason and claim the Iron Throne, then you will die here – no matter how much it pains me to see harm come to Prince Rhaegar's son."
Jon panted. "Rhaegar might be my real father… but it was Ned Stark himself who took care of me. I don't want the throne, I never wanted it in the first place! I bent the knee Daveth Baratheon. I'm no longer a Prince and I'm not the heir to the Iron Throne anymore."
*CLANG!*
*CLASH!*
"Grrr! THAT'S TREASON!"
"No, YOU ARE THE ONE COMMITTING TREASON HERE!"
*RUMBLE!*
More rubble falls as wildfire explosives roar, making the already rooftop of Maegor's Holdfast become increasingly narrower and providing all combatants gathered less room to maneuver. By that point, Sansa was already doing everything she can to keep her children safe and keeping Tommen, Tyrion, Margaery, Trystane, Myrcella and Nymerios away from the fighting; Robb, Arya, Lucius, Ariyana and Ghost were already mopping up what was left of Connington's guards; Sandor had already engaged Lysono in combat, the Lysene spymaster had danced and spun around avoiding the Hound's aggressively powerful swings.
Lysono fends off Sandor's charge with his twin daggers, then grabs the Hound's blade. Enraged, Sandor rips his weapon free and attacks anew. The Lysene moves with such speed and agility with each sidestep and jumps. If he couldn't avoid, he could parry. On the apparent eighth swing of his sword, the Hound knocks aside one of Lysono's daggers and it falls off the burning ledge.
"Fast fucker. Just HOLD STILL!" Sandor roared.
"Try and catch me if you can—"
*KLSHUK!*
During his mid-speech taunt, a thin blade pierced through Lysono with the tip sticking out of his mouth. Speckles of blood splattered Sandor's face, him grunting in surprise and annoyance. Wiping his face clean, the Hound gained a clearer view of Lysono falling to his knees—revealing Arya had thrusted Needle through the back of the base of Lysono's skull. Exclaiming a small shout, she pushed the Lysene spymaster off the ledge.
"You took too long to kill him. Got impatient," she said plainly.
"You're a cold little bitch, aren't you?" Sandor huffed. "But I guess that's one reason you're still alive."
"Yeah, yeah. Don't rub it in." Arya turns to see Jon fighting Connington still. "Only one more remains."
But before anyone else could even make a move, Connington had already been forcing Jon into a struggling defense. The elder lord swung and bashed away at Longclaw repeatedly, forcing Jon to his knees and kicked him back. Raising his longsword up high, Connington was primarily focused on Jon he hadn't noticed cracks developing on the roof. Before he could bring his sword down, a faint triggering was heard followed by a small bolt soaring through the sky and pierced through Connington's right hand.
*THUCK!*
"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Connington shouted in a mixture of pain and anger, the bolt causing him to drop his longsword.
Jon, Robb, Arya and nearly everyone else in assembly turned to see where the direction of the bolt came from. Sansa was much closer to the rear entrance and her eyes widened with surprise and relief; propping against a nearby granite pillar stood a bloodied/exhausted Daveth with Jaime holding him up for support. Each of the men held up a specialized crossbow with a golden lion on the prod—indicating in which it formerly belonged to the late Prince Joffrey Baratheon, with Daveth using his left hand to hoist it up and Jaime using his right to do the same so as to properly aim down sight before they squeezed the trigger mechanism to fire—though it was Jaime himself who provided the much needed pressure to have the crossbow shoot the bolt.
*RUMBLE!*
Whilst the party was distracted, the cracks developed in the stony ceiling finally beginning to give way—causing half of it to collapse in a wave of destruction that surrounds Connington and pinned him to the ground. Half of him was practically buried under a heavy pile of rubble, he spat out blood from his mouth and across the rubble and hollered in agony. Robb helped Jon to his feet and both young men watched; they knew that Connington was trapped and would be condemned to his fate. He gritted through his teeth and opened one eye to see Jaime helping Daveth slowly limp his way towards him.
"Papa!" shouted Lyonel and Cassana excitedly.
"Brother!" Tommen and Myrcella did the same.
"So… *ack!* the son of the Usurper comes to *ack!* finish it," he coughed roughly out of spite. "Well? G-go on then! *Ack!* Do it! Kill me!"
Daveth gazed down at the man who threatened his family; normally in these circumstances, the Young Stag would have gladly granted Connington's request, however… given his current condition, bleeding out from his stab wounds to both his left and right flanks, his breathing still quietly shallow… just simply shook his head.
The hubris of allowing so much anger, hatred and vengeance to consume every fiber of your being, this might have been my fate had I allowed it to do the same to me. "No," he refused. "I won't kill you…" the sound of more rumbling came from below surrounding Connington. Hatred fueled cunning, but burned out all wisdom. Without that, you could not see nor could you understand the truth. What a waste. Strength and cunning are useless without wisdom to guide it. You are the architect of all of this, Jon Connington. Now you will have no choice but to share this tower's fate, which you yourself have destroyed. "…but I don't have to save you."
"Tell the Mad King when you see him," Jaime remarked, "the Baratheons and the Lannisters send their regards." All that remains is Daenerys Targaryen.
The area surrounding Connington finally begins to collapse; Daveth and Jaime both stepped back as they watched the ground crumble and break away, sending Connington to a rather unpleasant, fiery grave within the caverns surrounding Maegor's Holdfast below. Determining the threat posed by Connington and Euron were over, only Daenerys herself remained. Slowly turning around, Daveth and Sansa locked eyes. Her face brightens as she looks at him, holding Torrhen on her hip.
"Daveth…?" she spoke softly.
"Sansa…" he says with relief. Leaning sideways to remove his arm from Jaime, Daveth struggles to stand on his own two feet and staggers his way towards his wife. I've been away from home for far too long. Sansa, please forgive me…
"Papa! Papa!" Lyonel and Cassana sprinted towards their father and hugged his leg tightly. The twins were happy to see their father again, knowing he had come to protect them. The Young Stag replied by patting their heads.
Sansa felt choked up and didn't hesitate to uncharacteristically make her way towards Daveth as well. Seeing her coming, Daveth opens his arms wide and the two were quick to embrace each other in a warm, comforting yet tight hug. He missed her, she missed him. Terribly. Daveth buried his face in Sansa's red hair and ran his fingers through it, caressing her cheek with the other; long had he desired to see her, to feel her touch and take in her scent. Torrhen whined and babbled in between both parents, stretching his tiny hands out. Lyonel and Cassana had latched on tight, not wanting to let go – telling their father how much they missed him. Their whole family was reunited at long last.
Tommen and Myrcella both stood and rushed to embrace their brother as well. Jaime approached them and checked on them, looking them over carefully to check for any harm. They were, after all, his son and daughter. Although he was visibly angered to see such bruises on Tommen's face, Myrcella reassured Jaime that he had merely acted in defense of the family, how much he had grown since he last saw them. Tyrion was rather quick to start chatting away, more likely aimed at Jaime.
Arya watched Sansa and Daveth holding each other; though they had their differences, she couldn't help but smile. What they had, the bond those two had… was special indeed. Perhaps Arya had been a bit too harsh with Daveth. Robb and Jon nodded in agreement as well. Sandor, meanwhile, huffed and pretended to look away.
"No. Brother, no…" Tommen trembled with concern.
"You're hurt," Myrcella noticed too.
Sansa opened her eyes when she heard that. By then, she now realized she felt something on her dress. It was warm, wet, thick. By the time she pulled away, the bottom half of her dress was stained with red and it covered her right hand, too. Sansa looked down to see it was blood. Blood! And it all came from Daveth. It was his blood! Concern and worry took over, looking down at her hands, then examining her husband's wounds, then looking up at Daveth's face. His eyes were flickering – as if he was fading in and out of consciousness, fighting to stay awake long enough.
"Papa?" the twins piped up.
"Oh my Gods," Sansa gasped. "You're bleeding…"
Daveth shook his head rather slowly. "Doesn't matter… now. It's… it's all right," he whispered, albeit in a quiet faint tone.
Arya was quick to notice the wounds. You look like death. Must feel like it too. "His wounds are mortal ones," she warned bluntly. "Daveth needs immediate medical attention. If he doesn't get it fast enough soon, he really will die."
"What? Die?" Tommen asked.
"P-papa? Mama?" the twins squeaked scared.
"No. Daveth will not die! Not again," Myrcella shook her head in denial.
"Uh, everyone," Ariyana noticed more cracks developing in the rooftop. "I don't to break up this tender reunion, but this tower is growing increasingly more unstable. It's not safe up here anymore. We have to leave. Now!"
"There's another passage from here that will take us to the bottom," Tyrion said. "We'll avoid the wildfire and once we get down, we'll make our way through the lower bailey and through the outer yard."
"It's no longer safe in the Red Keep nor is it out there in the streets, but we'll have to set up a temporary yet emergency base of operations," Lucius suggested. "We'll get to the barbican and once we descend down Aegon's High Hill, there's a nearby inn at Eel Alley close to the Red Keep which we can use to treat His Grace's wounds."
"I doubt my brother can even last that long for such a journey. Look at him! He looks like he can barely stand up let alone remain conscious," Myrcella points to Daveth.
"But isn't it worth a try, at least?" Tommen recommended.
"There's still the Dragon Queen we have to take into consideration," Ariyana pointed out. "While she remains outside the gate, we can still hear the screams onto the streets below. Some of her Unsullied and Dothraki have made their way into the city. The local citizenry is either putting up a resistance or fleeing. But if that dragon of hers decides to fly further deep into King's Landing, then we're all in deep trouble. Our scorpions can only do so much—"
Then will fight fire with fire. "Wait! *cough, cough!*" Daveth groaned in pain. "There's… *gasp* there's another way to… to deal with Daenerys and her… her dragon. You… you can use mine."
Sansa looked at him as if he was crazy. "Yours? You have a dragon?"
"It's true. I've seen him do it," Arya interjected. "He rode on Rhaegal's back when the Night King's army attacked Winterfell. But… he's in no condition to be pulling the same stunt again. There has to be someone else who can do it too."
"But who?" Jon asked.
Daveth looked at him. "You," he answered.
"Wha—? Me?" he said in disbelief. Jon looked unsure. "How am I supposed to—"
Before he could finish, Daveth roughly grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. "Listen to me very closely, Aegon Targaryen," he said using Jon's real name, his voice strained. Despite his condition, he was in no mood in wasting more time. "Nngh! If you… if you meant what you said outside the gates… then you will… you will prove it. Only a dragon can… can defeat another dragon."
"Drogon is much larger than Rhaegal. And stronger," Robb stated. "Any ideas how we can pull off the impossible?"
"Rhaegal is indeed… ngh, smaller and weaker than Drogon. But… *cough, cough!* but he's faster and more graceful. Not to mention— *cough, cough!* Rhaegal is smarter."
"It's a somewhat risky strategy. Dangerous even, but possible," Tyrion pondered. "Dragons are intelligent creatures, more intelligent than men according to some maesters. They have affection for their friends and fury for their enemies. If we can convince Rhaegal that Jon's a friend, not a threat… he should let you ride him."
Daveth turned back to Jon. "House Baratheon shares blood ties… ngh, with House Targaryen through my ancestor, Orys Baratheon and… yours, Aegon the Conqueror. We're too… too diluted. But you… you are a Targaryen. Only a Targaryen can tame a dragon easily." His breathing was becoming shallower.
"But if he doesn't? I don't know how to ride a dragon," Jon asks.
This is somehow funny. I asked Daenerys the same thing at Winterfell. "No one knows… ngh, until they've tried."
"First you use Bran, now you want to use Jon?" Arya asked incredulously.
"What are our options? You know we don't have any other choice," Jaime countered.
Tyrion looks at Jon. "They're your cousins, I know, but you still think of them as your own brothers and sisters. They're as stubborn as their mother Catelyn Stark. Do you see any of them bending the knee to your aunt? Robb? Sansa? Arya? Bran? Rickon? Do you see Sansa swearing eternal loyalty to a Queen who means to overthrow the father of her children by force? Your brother's best friend? We don't get to choose, but you do. And you have to choose now. The world will burn if Daenerys Targaryen isn't stopped."
Jon looked at everyone in attendance, all of whom were looking at him. Take a chance and ride Rhaegal to fight Daenerys or do nothing and let countless of innocent people be burned? Jon stares at Tyrion for a beat, then at Daveth and lastly at Robb, Sansa and Arya.
"All right," he conceded. "I'll do it."
"Good," Daveth coughed. "We… we need to leave. *Cough, cough!* Now!" His knees buckled and he nearly fell.
Sansa was quick to catch him and brought Daveth's arm around her. "Ooh I got you," she strained against her husband's weight and passed Torrhen off to Ariyana. "Ser Lucius, Ser Jaime… take my children. Please."
Tommen and Myrcella assist Sansa in keep Daveth on his feet long enough for the long trek down; Robb and Arya also assisted, as did Tyrstane and Margaery. As the party turns to descend down the steps away from the rooftops of Maegor's Holdfast, they did so in the nick of time, as moments later the structure begins to collapse. The structure of such a massive tower were strong, but they'd only hold for so long. Maybe enough for another three or four floors, but still strong enough to hold out. There will be time to repair Maegor's Holdfast and the rest of the Red Keep itself, but that will have to wait once this war is over.
Sounds of destruction echo through the Red Keep as everyone makes their escape. It was a long descent, and Daveth's vision started fading in and out. Jon, meanwhile, had separated from the main group to find a large opening. He wasn't sure why he was even volunteering for this task, but he did so to protect his family—Stark or Targaryen. It didn't matter now. He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling. Ghost sniffed the air, but suddenly the direwolf's ears fell flat back close to its head and tucked its tail between its legs, whimpering as it sunk into a slinking, slumping posture. Jon knew Ghost was afraid. Something big was coming.
Later…
"*Raaaaaaaaaaaah!*"
Jon looks up to see a dragon converging on his location. Once into view, he could see this dragon had red eyes, green scales with bronze markings. It was Rhaegal, his wings now completely healed and ready to take flight again as it landed rather roughly in the outer courtyard front of Jon and Ghost. The direwolf whimpered at the sight of such a massive, scaly predator. Rhaegal hissed and beard its teeth at the sight of Jon Snow—or Aegon Targaryen—the dragon was unhurried now in his movements and snakes down its long neck to inspect him closely, cocking its head to one side to get a better look at the White Wolf, like a bird of prey, peering down with its fiery eyes, rumbling defensively with caution.
Jon gazes stoically up at the sight. He shifts his footing slightly, but otherwise remained perfectly still. "I know you don't know me – but I know your rider. He sent me here to find you," he told the beast. "Easy. I mean you know harm. I'm here to help, but I need yours. Please?" The White Wolf cautiously walks up to Rhaegal and stretches his hand out, patting him on its snout where it likes to be scratched.
"*Grrrrrrr!*"
Rhaegal blinked at Jon, crooning and trilling at him. Along its neck, its spines flattened. Within moments, the smaller dragon determined Jon was not a threat. Rhaegal hangs its head down for Jon to stroke. Its snout noses up again at the back of Jon's hand. Just as it had towards its rider Daveth at Winterfell, Rhaegal seems to have satisfied itself that Jon is friend, not a threat or food and moves forward on all fours to shift its body sideways.
Not much to begin with, a rather rough start. But… it's progress, I guess? Jon interprets this gesture as Rhaegal motioning him to get on. Moving tentatively, Jon climbs onward up to its shoulders and maneuvers himself into a riding position. Once gripping the spines to hang on, Jon looks outward to see Daenerys and Drogon laying waste to the royal armies outside the gate.
"M-my lord Snow," the same militiamen arrived. "Our armies are being decimated out there! We need help!"
Jon nodded. "All right, Rhaegal. Let's go," he motioned. He turned to Ghost. "Be a good boy for me, okay? I'll be back before you know it."
Ghost howled in response.
"*Raaaaaaaah!*" Rhaegal roared.
Beating its wings, the dragon darts forward and lifts off whilst chittering. Before they could hit the walls of the Red Keep with such velocity, Rhaegal takes flight and turns side-to-side causing Jon to yell out. It flies high at first but drops lower along the cliffs. Undetected, Rhaegal calmly flies above the Narrow Sea – chittering uncomfortably as it knows what Jon's intentions are. Fighting its father and brother… Rhaegal was concerned at the notion. Jon freed one hand to pat the dragon on the back of its long neck.
"I know, I know. You don't want to do this… but sometimes we don't have a choice."
Chapter End
Author's Note: This concludes the fight with Jon Connington, the rest will carry on to the climactic Targaryen vs. Targaryen battle – which will in turn bring about the final conclusion of the Battle of King's Landing itself. Since Daveth is too wounded to ride Rhaegal, the reins were passed on to Jon Snow. He will now take the fight directly to his aunt Daenerys Targaryen. How was the reunion between Sansa, Daveth and the rest of their family? How will the Jon and Daenerys battle play out? Stay tuned for more updates!
P.S., to those of you who've been spamming me a lot of negative or hateful messages claiming it as 'criticism', nobody's forcing you to read anything. If you don't like it, don't read it and go about your business 'cause I've basically had it up to here at this point. You're basically the minority. Your feed won't be mentioned at all. Just ignored like all the others. We can agree to disagree, but harassment and constant demeaning get you nowhere in life. If you mean to make me abandon the stories like you've been doing to other writers, then I got news for you: I'm. Not. Going. Anywhere! Not until this story is done.
ABEBAOBDU: please don't kill daveth it will only spawn more trouble for the future
King Crow: Dance of Dragons
RHatch89:Awesome update... I hope Daveth pulls through :)
noobie53: Wow. This is great.
Bvh: Great chapter on trials and oathkeeper, so can you please put up the next chapter to the story now please
ArtanisRose: One way or another... it will all end. I sincerely hope that Jon and Rheagal win the battle.
MazMan3: I'm just curious but how many chapters are left?
—Can't give an exact number since I don't know that yet. It might be a while.
Randa1: The dance of dragons is coming
—Dance of the Dragons 2.0
Supremus85: Maybe in the end you meant "fighting his mother and brother" didn't you?
—It was referring to Rhaegal's mindset
Masso 2010: oh hell yeah, you know when I said a couple of chapters ago, let the beginning of the end start. Or something along those lines? well scratch that, this is a better time to say it. LET THE END BEGIN!
hateme101: i love how Jon comforts Rhaehal about fighting his brother
GreatAce50: please don't kill daveth let him live! daveth deserve a good happy ending along with his family and after everything he done to the seven kingdoms..
Moshi: Rhaegal should have been Jon's from the start.
Chris the Metis: Well good riddance to bad rubbish Connington is truly indeed batshit insane.
GOT Fan: Please please please please please please please please please please please please please don't kill Daveth please don't let his story arc have a good ending please!
TehStorm: Great chapter,i hope rhaegal will stay alive after fighting drogon,someone could help him by firing scorpions at drogon.
I just hope jon will manage to capture daenarys alive just to see her trial,her face full of defeat with 2 of her "children" dead and 1 betraying her,her friends and lover dead and waiting death at the hands of daveth.
Ozilla: Margery is ambitious but the one thing that separate her from Cersei she cares for everyone of her family and know Tommen would not want the crown. In the show they were quite the happy couple and it felt like she did love Tommen so she wouldn't and Tommen claim is a lot weaker now. So unless Margery is planning to kill her nephews which she will not Tommen is 3rd in line.
Bio RL: Honestly, if Daveth dies, I'm sure Margaery would try by all means that Tommen take the crown.