Love is the Death of Duty

Chapter 7

Floating listlessly through the sky, high above the ground, Daenerys Targaryen watched as thousands of Unsullied and Dothraki moved closer to the rose colored walls of Kings Landing. The time for waiting was at an end; Cersei Lannister had forced her hand, and Daenerys wouldn't shy away from a fight. Olenna Tyrell's words floated through her mind. "You're a Dragon," the Queen of Thorns said, "be a Dragon."

Rhaegal and Viserion looped through the air around their brother and mother, diving in and out of the clouds with glee, eyes wide at the prospect of blood. Down below her, the Unsullied had halted their advance, their rectangular formations creating channels that the Dothraki rode through, their war cries audible from where she sat. Her army was truly a sight to behold; the Dothraki's wild and vicious nature perfectly balanced by the cold and meticulousness of her Unsullied. The tension in the air was palpable; she could see the restless Lannister soldiers pacing too and fro along the parapets, nervously glancing down at the host that waited at the city main gate.

Dany smiled to herself, hoping that her elaborate display drew every Lannister eye in the city. Her show of military force was merely a front; Daenerys had no plans to decimate the outer city and kill millions of innocent civilians. While the Lannister forces were preoccupied, Grey Worm and a group of her best fighters, Dothraki and Unsullied alike, would open the main gate from inside the wall when the signal was given. The signal itself came with brutal implications; Daenerys was going to burn the Red Keep to the ground. Varys had informed her that Cersei, along all her remaining, prominent allies, had taken to spending all their and nights locked away in the royal apartments. Varys's also knew that the number of guards defending Maegor's Holdfast had been tripled, and that a scorpion had been constructed in the Tower of the Hand, laying in wait to attempt to wound or kill one of her children.

The thought of Viserion's crippled and lifeless form in her dream fueled the cold fury that burned inside of her as she looked down at the Castle from on high: soon it would be no more than a smoking pile of rubble Varys's had assured her that his information regarding Cersei's whereabouts was accurate, but she couldn't take that chance; she had to make sure that the Mad Queen died in the fire. Now was the moment she knew, as the Unsullied began to stomp their feet in unison: an intimidating display of their coordination, the thunderous sound encasing the city. Willing Drogon to dive, The Dragon Queen and her Children tore through the clouds.

The wind ripped through her hair as Daenerys and Drogon began to level out, the Red Keep approaching fast. She could see the guards below her scrambling into cover; she could hear their yells of terror. Drogon seemed to be able to smell their fear; he let out a bone shattering roar, his brothers joining in, the sound rippling and bouncing off of every wall. At her eye level, she saw two guards pull a white linen cover of the Scorpion, tripping over their feet in terror as they tried to load it. They never got the chance. Dany and Drogon watched on as Viserion and Rhaegal unleashed a torrent of dragonfire on the two, reducing the giant crossbow to ash and incinerating them where they stood. Men screamed from below as they saw their compatriots being burned away; and their screams increased in volume when Drogon's attention was drawn by the sound. The cowards among them ran across the courtyard below her, seeking shelter indoors, while those who were either to stupid or brave to flee began firing arrows at Drogons underbelly, their projectiles bouncing harmlessly of his scales. Dany looked down at the men below her; she saw scared their faces, their drawn bows, their eyes leaking tears as they stared at their deaths. Dany saw fathers and brothers, husbands and sons; she saw good men, brave men, foolish men.

Dany saw her enemies.

"Dracarys."

…

The stench of burned hair and flesh filled her nose, her eyes watering from the smoking that drifted from the ruins of what had once been the Capital building in Westeros. All around her she could see the charred remains of fallen Lannister soldiers, their armor scorched and their skin burnt black. The whole place reeked of death; Daenerys wanted nothing more than to climb back onto Drogon and fly away. Pillars of ash rose into the blue sky above her, the clamour in the city reaching a fever pitch below her. Daenerys stood and waited, surveying the carnage that surrounded her on all sides until Grey Worm and Tyrion burst into the courtyard, an escort of Unsullied soldiers hot on their heels. Tyrion slowed to a halt as he took in his surroundings, his eyes full of regret.

"This place was my home for many years," her hand said, his voice soft, "I hated every second of living here, but it was home nonetheless." Grey Worm did not share in her hand's melancholy mood. "The city is yours, my queen," he stated, his words swallowed by his thick accent, his rigid posture that of a soldier.

Daenerys nodded and turned away from her Commander. "What of the Queen?", she questioned, her attention fixed on her children who circled overheard, their shrill cries of victory audible from throughout the city. "Nothing yet," Grey Worm replied. Daenerys turned back to him. "Find her," she said, her voice ice cold, "I must know if she is dead." Grey Worm nodded, barked a command, before he and the Unsullied left the way that they came, leaving Dany alone with her Hand. Tyrion had sat down against the base of a broken column, nervously fussing with his hands. Daenerys walked to him and sat on the tile beside him.

"I know this was the best way," Tyrion said, his eyes bleary. Daenerys looked at him, the sorrow she felt visible on her face."What we did here today was a horrible thing," Dany agreed, nodding her head sadly, "but we needed to leave the majority of the Lannister Army untouched. We're going to need them for the coming battles." Tyrion looked up at her, his face wet, his grin a hollow one. "If what Jon says is true, then the hardest part is yet to come," he said, laughing without humor, "that is the most difficult thing to accept."

"That this," he swept his arm at the destruction around them, "isn't the end makes it that much more bitter."

Dany had to agree.

…

Dressed in his warmest skins and equipped with his double edged axe, Tormund Giantsbane was walking at the head of a host of wildlings that numbered three hundred strong. Tormund knew that their mission was important and that he had to keep his wits about him; upon their arrival at what had formerly been Eastwatch, the red-headed wildling knew that the destruction and carnage on display was not the work of ordinary wights. Now, having traveled through the tunnel that the Walkers had carved out of the ice, he was trying to track their movements back to wherever it was that they were gathering. Normally, with fresh snow falling even now, it would have been impossible to find any traces of enemy movement. The Others were no ordinary enemy; their path had cut a path through the deep snowfall, wide enough for at least five hundred men to walk abreast. The size of the host they were following made Tormund very uneasy, as did the freshness of the tracks; there was barely any new snow on the uncovered ground. The Wildlings were all on edge, muttering nervously to each other and clutching their weapons tightly, prepared for a fight at any moment.

On and on they walked, down through valleys and up mountains, without any sign of their enemy. The sun had begun to set now, and Tormund knew that they had to find a place to bunker down for the night. Sleeping under the stars this far north was a death sentence; if the walkers didn't find you, the cold would freeze your body as you slept. He turned to look back at his companions.

"Right," he began, his gruff voice silencing all other discussions, "we need to look fer a place to spend the night. Ulfrick, Val: take five men and go east. Ragnar, Dradill: do the same and go west. We need to-"

"Tormund!".

Frarna, a fearsome young woman, stepped through the crowd of bodies, the fear she felt radiating off of her in waves. She pointed past him, and slowly he turned.

At first, he saw nothing, before he felt a surge of terror course through his body. On all side of the wildling part, the snowfall rose up to chest height, the thick, white frost standing ominously in the place of where the tracks should have been.

"RUN!" Tormund yelled, turning back in the direction they had come.

It was too late.

Snow began to fall around them as the Wights burst from the powder on all sides. The wildlings drew their weapons and stood their ground, the undead hurtling towards them at an unnatural pace. It was over as quickly as it had started. The wildlings, equipped with steel blades, hacked desperately at their aggressors, only to find their swords completely ineffective. Tormund saw Ulfrick's lifeless body collapse in front of him, two wights driving their swords through his chest over and over, blood spraying from the stab wounds. Frarna screamed as she went down to his right, a rusty spear embedded in her shoulder. Sobbing, she weakly slashed at the Wight that had her pinned down. Her blade caught it in the chest and stuck there; its cold, lifeless eyes full of hate as it shoved a iron dirk through her throat. Tormund turned away from Frarna, and saw a Walker staring at him from across the chaos, its blue eyes turning his insides to ice. With a roar of rage, Tormund charged at it, battle axe drawn back to deliver a vicious killing blow. His blade met the Walkers, and shattered, the shockwave knocking him to the ground. Tormund stared at the hilt of his weapon in awe, and looked up to see Other standing over him. Tormund closed his eyes, his last thoughts were of his daughters.

The Walkers sword rose and fell. The snow swirled around them, the wind singing a mournful tune.

Let me know how I'm doing guys. The ending segment of this chapter was the most fun to write, and I hope I surprised some of you. We are halfway done with the story.

Please continue to Review, Follow and Favorite!

P.S. if you're wondering how I came up with the names for the wildings, googled "free folk name generator", because I'm not creative.

;)