Calla

Men with weapons on one side, and Gold Cloaks on the other side.

Calla was the only one who could stop it. "Stand back!" she ordered the Gold Cloaks and announced to the kingslanders in rags, "I'm Calla Blackfyre, princess of the blood, the Crystal Knight, and Lady Commander of the Crystal Guards! What is the issue here?"

"Your Highness," an officer Calla did not recognise called out, sweating and looking nervous, "We're just escorting these folks to the shelters."

The crowd mumbled in anger. "That's not true!" Holding up a shovel and veins showing on his face, a man yelled, "They burned down our homes, and now they're throwing us into the wild and calling it a job well done!"

The furious energy of the crowd was almost uncontrollable. Agreements to the man's words sprouted one by one, each more agitated and unrecognisable. Calla knew that something had gone wrong, and judging by the Gold Cloaks' grave expression, she was more inclined to believe the crowd.

She turned to the officer that had spoken to her before. Crystal in hand, she asked slowly, "If you are bringing them to the shelters, why do they seem to believe you're feeding them to the dogs?"

"Our orders are just to help with the demolishment and take those to the shelters!" Eyes widening at the sight of the magical sword, the officer answered quickly, "We… We don't know anything else! We've done nothing wrong!"

Quick on the defensive, it seemed. Growling in frustration, Calla asked, "Is there something amiss in the shelters?"

The officer shook his head, a gesture that attracted the attention of the crowd. "He was lying!" they cried, "Those shelters are taken by the richest. They're full already, we have nowhere to go now!"

The officer shivered in terror as the crowd stepped forward, each holding a makeshift weapon or their fists. What a useless man. The Gold Cloaks were outnumbered ten to one, but they were trained and well armoured while the small folks had no such advantages…

Still, Calla had no intention to let a fight break out. She sighed. The shelters were all occupied? The Gold Cloaks taking bribes aside, this would mean… this would mean there was a gross miscalculation in the demand of the shelters.

How did they underestimate the number so greatly?

But this was not important right now. She must find a way to placate the crowd, or else Flea Bottom would bathe in blood. Calla had sent those people Tyrell met to the Sept of Baelor before, but Baelor could not accommodate so many people… she could not return the dismantled houses to their original places...

Send them to nearby villages and towns, perhaps? Hayford and Rosby were close enough. But such a thing would have to be negotiated with the reigning lords respectively.

Calla's head was a mess. She was not prepared for this, for negotiations and management. Since she was given Crystal, she had only been trained for the sword, day in and day out. She was never expected to be anything but her brother's sword…

A smarter person could have a better solution, perhaps. But Calla was only a swordswoman. "This is a mistake of the crown," she announced, "We will pay for your loss in gold. With the gold, you could go out and seek your fortune—"

But she was cut off by a woman with a sharp voice. "We want none of that!" she screamed, and Calla noticed that there was blood spatter on her white dress. "My home was burned down, with everything within it turned to ash! I lived here all my life, my work, the tools of my trade are gone! No gold can return my life to me, you can't pay me and pretend that nothing has happened!"

People were echoing her words in agreement, those who had fought the Gold Cloaks before they were thrown out, with frenzied expressions on their faces. But the others were shirking back. "How much? How much gold could we get?" someone shouted.

"As many as you have lost!" There was no way out of this but to promise the most. "This is our responsibility. Even if our treasury is drained, I shall pay you out of my own coffers!"

To Calla's declaration, there was a cheer amongst the crowd. Protests and swearing could still be heard, but they were drowned out quickly. Calla sighed, her shoulders relaxed. Aenys would not be happy about this development, and their master of coin would have one hell of a time trying to refill the treasury, but at least it was solved for now—

The officer pulled her arm and cried, "You can't do that, princess! You have no authority to do so. You aren't our commander, and our order is to clear out this portion of Flea Bottom by sunset!"

It was as if he reignited a fire that was on the edge of extinguishing. As the crowd started to mumble in discontent again, Calla snapped. With inhuman strength, she pushed the officer to the ground, pointed Crystal to his throat and yelled, "I'm the king's sister! Who are you to counter-order my words?"

The officer shuddered in fear, his lips trembling, "This- this was the order of your hus- husband, Your Highness. The Lord Hand..."

...Aegor.

He… ordered this? This incompetent… inhuman order of action…

This could not be true.

But a mere officer would not have the guts to counter-order her without a higher authority…

"The… the warrant." Shivering, the officer took out a scrap of paper, "It's… signed…"

One look of it was enough to plunge Calla into despair.

As Calla stood there, heart beating furiously, mind blank, the crowd's anger was spreading like wildfire. The fact that it was Calla's husband who ordered the dismantlement seemed to have nullified all of Calla's words. "Liar!" they shouted, marching forward, not fearing the unmoving Calla and the sharp edge of Crystal.

Righteous anger. They had nothing to fear, for they had lost everything. Their means of living was taken away from them cruelly, with only clothes on their back and bare feet… the woman before them sprouting only empty promises to placate them…

Calla could not have done anything. She was merely a princess. Merely a sword.

The only purpose of a sword… was to kill.

"Die!" The man with the shovel closed in and swung his weapon down, towards Calla's unprotected head.

It was as natural as breathing. Crystal brandished itself, and the shovel flew, along with blood and meat and the man's severed hand.

The crowd screamed with the man as he kneeled in pain, crying, clutching his forearm, shivering and searching for his lost hand.

But it was his blood that spilt on Calla's face that made her realise.

She failed. Now that blood had been drawn, this could not have ended in peace.

Because as frightened as the crowd was of her, they were rooted in place. They had nowhere to go… they could only fight. If not her, then the Gold Cloaks.

Aegor's order was to clear out this portion of the Flea Bottom.

If there was nowhere those people would go, if they would not leave…

Then all Calla had to do was to turn them into corpses that would not complain.

Mindlessly, she stepped forward. The crowd cried in horror.

No, this was wrong, her mind screamed, they were innocent civilians. Unarmed peasants. Not soldiers in a war. They only fought because they had no choice.

But a sword had no morality. Only to obey.

Yet she wished they would just flee. Just flee and...

A hand caught her leg. She looked down.

It was the man she cut. "Give me my hand back!" he howled with a voice that was breaking, his face full of red, bloody tears. "My hand!"

Ah. If not even he would flee, then who would?

A slash was the answer he received, with his head falling off a second later.

"Ahhhh!" Screaming. Crying. Pleading.

Calla heard none of that. She only heard the sound of blood rushing through her head, mixing with the sound of rain. When did it start to rain? She didn't even know.

Aegor. Aegor. Aegor…

Hatred filled her heart, for the first time since she was born, towards the man who raised her, who had been most dear to her.

She had been led to believe that he could do no wrong, that they were working towards a grand goal, a brighter future…

She had killed before. Countless men fell under Crystal's light. But that was in a war. This...

What was this? What was this what was this what was this?

What had he made her do?

Even facing death, brave men charged the devil in shining green armour. Their steps were blessed, surely. They were driven by justice and vengeance. House Blackfyre had been driven by the same thing, once…

But those heroes were no match against Calla Blackfyre.

The bodies piled up. From the depths of the Seven Hells, the devil ascended, to spread hellfire across the city.

And that devil— that devil is me.

Calla's breath was hoarse and heavy. Her armour, shining brightly before, was painted in red. Despite never getting hit, her body was in pain, as if a thousand swords were piercing through her. But she did not care. All she had to do was kill.

For Aegor, for Aenys, for House Blackfyre.

Because this was his order… even if she was crying, even if she was screaming in pain, even if she was damning her soul…

Even if this was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Calla!" a voice cried. "Listen to me, Calla!"

It was unmistakable. It was the man who Calla cared most… the man who caused all of these.

Aegor.

She turned her head towards him. There he was, across a wall of screaming people. His eyes were filled with worry and despair.

Oh, why? Whhhhhy?

What Calla wished for was simply his approval. A grim, determined nod would have eased Calla's pain.

Just tell me I'm correct… that my action will be forgiven...

There were no hints of joy in his eyes. He reached out his hands despite the distance between them, as if— as if—

As if he was going to stop her.

Was this not your order? Your wish?

"Aegor…"

If even you, of all people, think that I was wrong…

"Why did you make me do this?"

Then I have nothing to live for anymore.

She fell, her knees hitting the ground. Beneath her sinking eyelids, within her tear-filled eyes, there was only pain and shadows before her consciousness fell into a spiral of darkness.

An island on a lake. A huge statue of Crystal, taller than any building. Underneath it, a man wielding Crystal was receiving the greatest honour of his life— a fortune only made possible by the sword...

An hour later, the island had exploded into pieces.

In the green light, a woman was giving birth, a boy by her side. They were close— too close to the explosion. Radiation affected the woman, and she did not survive the birth.

An old man, the woman's father, came and took the boy and his newborn sister away. The boy grew into a man, unaware of who he was, yet the light of Crystal was always with him— it was part of him since that day when the island exploded. A part of Crystal, the green pearl that was in the centre of the sword, was embedded into his arm.

In the years that followed, he grew up, left his home, met those he would call his friends, defeated his enemies, fell in love… and paid the price for finding Crystal by losing his sister and lover at the same time.

As the images flashed through Calla's eyes, she found his face merging with a man she thought she had forgotten. Silver-white curly hair, deep eyes, strong, lean body, a kind smile that believed in the good of people… Father. He resembled Daemon Blackfyre, in Calla's earliest memories.

They were so similar. He also grew up not knowing who his father was, yet always treated people the same way no matter if they were nobles or peasants. And the woman he fell in love with… was the daughter of his father's wife.

In despair, he saw his god— Crystal's god. A Goddess with the lower body of a snake and only one arm, she told him Crystal was forged by her to defeat the evils of this world. The one who loved him would die for his sword… the one he loved would die from his sword…

...If he could not wield the sword for the sake of the world, but only for his desires, Crystal would be destroyed by his weak tears.

And so he struggled and struggled. He defeated the man who took his sister, chased away the evil that resided inside her, revealed the ancient evil who contaminated the land and trees and fought to keep them from destroying the world.

He lost many things, including his heart, the only thing keeping him alive was the bursting flame in his chest. The woman who loved him died for his sword, as it was foretold. The woman he loved received a fatal wound from Crystal…

Yet he did not give up on his mission, for those he loved and for everyone. With the effort of everyone, they trapped the ancient monster in a web made of materials outside of human understanding. Like a ball, it surrounded the monster, the hero, his sister and her dragon.

The monster was massive, with horns and purple, truck-like skin. World-destroying power made flesh with trees and men and schemes. A force of will, wanting to restart the world.

The dragon, loyal to the last moment, breathed flame onto the monster. It did nothing to him. He killed the dragon, laughing while he did. The hero realised the only way to defeat him was to—

A blinding green light.

When the web broke, the only thing Calla could see was silver-white hair...