A/N: Bloody hell, you guys and gals are relentless! Here we go.
Early update it is, folks!
Should this reach 600 by some miracle -already past 500- I'll update early again. Review threshold doesn't seem possible sometimes; but I'm willing to try. Lack of feedback is a painful thing indeed.
On another note, this WILL be bumped up to M in the future. After all, its Game of Thrones. You've been warned~!
With my fifteen year anniversary on this site finally here, I find myself reflecting on the little things in life. What was once a lazy pastime meant for me and a few friends really grew and evolved over time. There are days when I look back on the last fifteen years here and I wonder if anyone will remember me; if I made an impact, despite never making a single cent on any of these stories. Some days were happier than others, and some stories I enjoyed writing WAY too much; to the point where I'd stay up all night working on them.
And of course, there are times when I look to the future and wonder what will become of things when I'm gone.
Of course, I try not to dwell on the latter overmuch; I'm still alive and still writing. In an ideal world, I'd like to keep doing so for as long as I can. But old age is catching up to me and these days, the world is filled with so much madness and death. Feels like everyone's lost their minds, the world over. Even before that, so many friends and fellow writers I once knew are gone, now. Will I still be here in twenty years? Ten? Five? Its a chilling thought. But for now, I'm still here, still writing.
Not Q&A for a bit, as someone complained. Ah, well.
Alight, I've kept you long enough. As ever, I own no quotes, references, quotes, themes or memes!
They're simply tributes to legends far greater than I; an old man who writes as a pastime.
Now, then...Shall We Continue? Verbatim for season seven here...and its visceral.
I'd recommend the GOT soundtrack Spoils of War parts one and two.
Well, for the first half of chapter, certainly...
"My, my. You poor fools. You have awoken the dragons
May the gods have pity on your souls.
For those two shall not."
~A future scene.
Burn Them All
There were days when Tywin Lannister dearly wished he had died on that bloody privy.
That he'd simply succumbed to his wounds and slipped away in his sleep.
Today was such a day.
Death was often a tempting notion in his darker moments; a simpler alternative to dealing with the drudgery of his humdrum existence. Once, he had been powerful. Once, the seven kingdoms had feared him. Once he had all of Westeros at his fingertips.
Now he was a broken shell of a man, clinging to what remained of his life. How unseemly.
These days, His chest ached with nearly every other breath he took and he had to walk with a cane. Tywin expected he would need the infernal thing for the rest of his days, few though they might be. Had those crossbow quarrels struck just a little closer to his heart, he would be moldering in a grave right now.
Sometimes he wondered if Tyrion had show him mercy; if this was what he'd intended for him all along.
...no that was unlikely. His spiteful son to kill him that awful night.
Death would've been preferable to living with this madness.
Pycelle had saved him, but only just. He was gone now and Kevan with him, the former stabbed to death, the latter consumed in a blaze of wildfire. All because of Cersei. His foolish, stupid snit of a daughter, who had brought about the ruin of thieir house. Or rise as some might call it.
Now it was Cersei who wore the Crown and once more, he found himself cleaning up after another vicious idiot. She thought herself untouchable now; something she took great pleasure reminding him of every chance she got. A fresh pang of pang shot down Twyin's side at the thought, causing him to snarl as he walked. He knew the truth. That, at least, he could take some grim satisfaction in.
His daughter was an idiot. Were she anyone but the Queen, he would've cast her in irons and thrown her into the black cells.
The Mad Queen they were calling her. This wretched, vicious woman had tainted the legacy of the Lannisters beyond any hope of repair. No house would trust them after that ghastly wildfire incident. Fear them, yes, but fear as he'd begun to learn, was brittle. It could be broken. Shattered, given time.
Aerys had been feared and everyone knew what fate befell him. Common sense said Cersei would follow that lunatic into the grave.
But this time there would be no Jamie Lannister to save the day. He was away, sent far afield to deal with the treacherous Tyrells. Even where he here, Tywin very much doubted his son would be willing to repeat his prior act of regicide. No, the realm was stuck with Cersei...for now.
That could change. Would it? Should it?
In the end it all came down to family. Legacy. It was the family name that lived on. And what a foul family they'd become.
"Lord Tywin!" Someone called out to him in the hall.
He pivoted to face them, cursing softly as his side protested. "Speak."
It was some minor squire or another; he couldn't be bothered to remember their name.
"A messenger, my lord Hand." the page rushed up to him and bowed deeply at the waist. "He's ridden hard from the Blackwater Rush."
His blood ran cold.
No. Surely not. It couldn't be.
"Well? What news? What has happened?"
The boy told him, for the message was brief indeed.
What was already a bad day soon became considerably worse.
(.0.0.0.)
This was the Field of Fire all over again.
Slaughter, in the simplest sense.
Everything burned.
Men in armor. Horses and wagons. Even the very ground itself. Nothing was spared; Fire and blood everywhere. Smoke and screams. And the smell. By the gods, the smell. Daenerys had forgotten just how foul it was. It rose in the air to choke her, stinging her eyes and clogging her lungs even at this height. It was different now that she'd seen it from the other side. Her heart softened a little towards the soldiers below. If it was this bad here, it must be a madhouse on the ground.
Was this what Aegon the first saw?
Had her forefather, the Conqueror looked upon this very scene, all those years ago when he eradicated House Gardener? How had he felt then? Powerful, mighty, invincible? She imagined it must be-although she wasn't foolish enough to think herself untouchable. Below her, the slaughter continued apace. The Lannister and Tarly forces weren't prepared for their ambush.
Why would they be? Dragons had been gone from the world for decades. No one was prepared for their return-not truly.
She spotted a cluster of resistance nestled below them. Archers. Taking aim at her.
With but a word she urged Drogon toward them.
A hail of arrows challenged her as she swept in. Drogon turned aside, letting them bounce harmlessly of his scales...
...and he burned them all.
Daeneyrs tried to close her heart to the screams that followed. She did not entirely succeed. Flying made her feel powerful. It was intoxicating. With but a word she brought death to dozens-no, hundreds, now. She hadn't slain this many since the massacre in Meereen, not since she'd scorched the Master's fleet at anchor. Those men had deserved it.
Did these?
No, she mustn't lose herself to guilt and regret. That way lay madness. Perhaps she didn't take as much pleasure in their deaths as she did those rotten slavers, but their ends were necessary all the same. Was that wrong of her? She was taking action, not waiting as Tyrion advised.
The Lannisters and the Tarlys had chosen their side.
They had struck first. Not her. The fault lay with their commanders.
She would not blame some for fleeing; those she let be, knowing the Dothraki might well run them down.
The same could not be said of Aegon. An awful roar rattled the world as a shadow swept over and past her. Ancalagon was a beast apart and the sight of that giant dragon swooping down upon the battlefield struck terror into the hears of men. It made her feel small. She didn't want to consider what those below must feel. Did they have families? Children? Wives? Most certainly. And here they were, burning them alive.
Burn them all.
It was so tempting to simply scorch them all from dragonback, to roast them all, young and old and let the gods sort them out.
Her blood sang to her, demanding death.
So very tempting...
...but she mustn't. She was not her father, no matter what some might say. She was not Mad. She refused to be Mad. She would never go Mad, however cruel she might seem to those on the outside looking in. She was painfully sane and doubting herself almost every other moment. But she couldn't -mustn't!- let that control her.
She would endeavor to kill them quickly.
Some stood apart from the rest on a small hill, having already laid down their weapons. They looked on and watched their fellows burn, yet made no attempt to flee. A few fell to their knees as she swept past, hands up to beseech her for mercy. So many. There were at least a hundred of them. Had they surrendered to Aegon already?
She tugged Drogon to the right and he wheeled away, sparing them for another day.
...far be it from her to attack those he had brought under his protection.
Not so the others.
Ancalagon showed no mercy to their enemies and Drogon knew none. They barreled down time and again, burning all who dared oppose them. Arrows clattered off their scales. Men were snatched up in their jaws or crushed in their claws. Swords could not reach them. Horses could not outrun them. It was, in every way, a slaughter. Many a man perished, cowering behind his shields, roasted in his armor. Those who fled faced her Dothraki and they knew even less mercy than she.
Was this not enough? There was no honor in attacking a fleeing force. Perhaps-
Something hurtled past her face.
'What in the world...?!'
She barely caught a glimpse of it; a black bolt whistled through the air, passing perilously close to her; far too close. Daenerys jolted and nearly lost her grip on Drogon. Her blood burned at the near miss.
Where...? There!
She spied a large contraption of some sort amidst the smoke. Large enough to be seen even from here.
Someone was moving it. Arming another bolt, perhaps? She wouldn't give them a chance.
Drogon must've seen it too amidst the smoke; he was already spreading his wings wide and angling toward it before she could even think to prod him. Together they blitzed the would-be-archer, fully intent upon smashing both him and that ghastly contraption to pieces. She could see it now, it was some kind of giant crossbow with a crank at the back-
Drogon inhaled deeply and opened his gaping maw wide, ready to roast.
An odd whistling noise filled Dany's ears.
And her world went sideways.
(.0.0.0.)
The scorpion barked.
Drogon fell from the sky.
Naruto saw it from afar and His world went red.
...that tore it. Only one thing for it, then. Burn them all.
(.0.0.0.)
Bronn did not have time to savor his victory.
He was still watching the dragon fall from the sky, only just heaving a sign of relief, when the shadow fell over him.
Finally, he heard it, then. The great beating of black wings.
Squinting in the haze, he looked up and swore softly.
"Bugger."
In his haste to deal with one dragon he'd forgotten about the other one.
But the prince hadn't forgotten about him.
No, sir.
He looked proper pissed up there, and that beastie of his was rearing back to flame...!
Oh, bugger indeed.
He dove for safety a heartbeat too late.
Qyburn's scorpion exploded behind him, erupting in a shower of molten metal and torched timber. Flame kissed the back of his neck and his head struck the ground; no struck something solid. Wreckage and debris struck his back and buried him alive. The world swam around him for an awful visceral moment. He closed his eyes, praying the fire wouldn't find the rest of him...
And then there was darkness.
(.0.0.0.)
Drogon landed hard.
Daenerys felt it rattle her very bones; her precious child had managed to right himself at the last instant, wings beating furiously, but it did little to stall his momentum. He crashed down on all fours and howled his fury at the world. His tail flicked out and crushed a nearby into splinters. Men fled at his presence, running for their lives, none daring to come near, not with another dragon in the sky.
She was livid, well and truly furious, and slid off his back without a second thought.
Only then did she see his wound. It made her heart ache. They'd shot him alright; the ballista bolt had nailed him right in the meat of his right shoulder. She supposed she should count her blessings. A little more to the left or right and he never would've flown again. As things stood, he would fly again, but it would take time for him to heal. He'd need to spend days in the Reach, recovering.
Thoughts for another time.
She pushed such them aside as she moved to regard his wound. Drogon saw her and his head came down with a sullen whimper. She stroked the scales of his chin, whispering softly:
"Shh, sh, you'll alight...
He made an annoyed noise. Such a child.
The bolt had to come out, of course. She couldn't well leave it in. Aegon would've had no trouble dislodging it.
Aegon was busy burning every Lannister and Tarly Ancalagon could get his claws on. She would hear his furious howls even from here.
So be it. The task fell to her.
She gripped the long bolt jutting from Drogon's shoulder and pulled. Hard. It did not come quietly. Must be a barbed tip. In that moment she swore to slaughter whomever had commissioned the creation of such a wicked thing. She'd have him -or her!- feed to her dragons. Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion would each have a piece of them. So she swore.
Another tug and she felt the bolt give now-
Drogon screamed at her.
Daenerys flinched, ears ringing. His cry hurt her more than words. She hadn't heard it in so long.
"I can't leave it in!" she gazed up at him mournfully. "You'll never heal otherwise!"
Another tug, a third now and it finally came free. Got it!
She stumbled back, clutching it in her hands.
Got it!
Drogon's head, whipped around, tore the scorpion bolt from her grasp with surprising delicateness and bit the metal rod in half. He spat the smoldering remains at her feet. A wry smile plucked at the corner of her mouth as she beheld the act of simple spite. If her child still had that much spirit after being wounded, he would be just fine.
Movement surged in her peripheral vision, commanding her attention, and with it, the harsh clatter of approaching hooves.
Daenerys experienced a sudden shiver of nameless dread. Who would be foolish enough to...?
She whirled to face whomever it was, praying it was one of hers and not the enemy.
No such luck. She beheld a stranger atop a pale horse, a man in armor thundering her way. Lance in hand, thrust down and ready to impale her. His face was grim yet handsome, but also somehow familiar. She could see the anger in his eyes, the hate, the determination to ride her down, no matter the cost. Her heart froze. She couldn't move. There was no time. He was too close, and she was unarmed. Her life flashed before her eyes.
Drogon curled around her protectively and opened his maw to flame-
And with a furious cry, Ancalagon swooped in, caught the mad rider in his massive claws, horse and all, then wheeled away over the Blackwater Rush. All this in an instant. He wheeled away, gained some distance, then dropped both into the drink miles away. Daenerys watched the distant tiny specks crash into the water. Neither resurface.
Good. She hoped the fool drowned in his heavy armor.
Another humiliating reminder of her shortcomings. For all her dragons and blood-right and presence, she could not defend herself in combat without her dragons.
She'd entertained the notion of self defense before on a whim, but now it was a necessity if she was to survive...
...and repay her rapidly growing debt to Aegon. She turned her gaze to the burning, ashen field.
But for now, with that last bit of resistance quashed, it seemed the battle was over.
Time to pay the butcher's bill.
(.0.0.0.)
Someone dragged him out of the water.
Jaime rolled over and wretched on the shore, wasted and gasping for air. Someone rolled him over. Pressed a canteen to his lips now. It tasted of old ale. Gods, but he needed a drink after all that. He sipped, scowled, and squinted up at his rescuer. Peered at them now, to no avail, his vision was still far too blurry and he couldn't see.
Bronn...?
Someone smacked him in the face. Pain centered him and his vision. He saw pale hair...oh, no.
Jamie closed his eyes and turned his head away from him.
Maybe when he opened them he would be gone...
.
...
...he was not.
"Did you enjoy your swim, Kingslayer?"
Aegon was still there, good eye glaring down at him. Anxiety gave way to resignation. He'd plucked him from the fire, only to have his own way from him. Was that it?
"Get it over with, then." Kill me.
Maybe he'd see Mother in the afterlife.
Anything was better than this; than having death hang over him.
...no." Aegon's good eye swiveled down and a smile dimpled his face as he regarded the blade in his belt. "I won't take your life. I expect you want that. No," he said again, planting a dirty boot on his chest. "You're going to sleep here for a bit, then you'll ride back to King's Landing, to your dear daddy, and tell them what happened here. All of it. Every bit. Tell him what's coming for him. Tell him I'm alive. But first...
He plucked Widow's Wail out of his swordbelt, sheathe and all. Jamie hadn't the strength to resist.
"I always wanted a Valyrian Steel sword. Thanks for the gift."
A boot crashed down on Jamie's face.
(.0.0.0.)
The survivors surrendered soon thereafter.
What choice did they have? They had been routed, their general slain, their wagons burned. Jamie Lannister was missing in battle and presumed dead. A shame. She didn't even know what he looked like. Those who could flee already had. The troops of Highgarden and the Dothraki were even now rounding up the stragglers. Few remained, only a scarce hundred or so out of what was once thousands
Those who kneeled, and she suspected there would be more than few, would live to see another sunrise and would be integrated into her forces. Those who did not...
...well. The matter would be dealt with soon enough.
Ancalagon winged down behind her. Drogon trilled a greeting, on the larger dragon returned.
Aegon dismounted and strode -sauntered really- her way looking quite pleased with himself. Daenerys noted the new sword in his belt and frowned a little at it. Before she could think to question it, she saw his face. There was blood on it, yet no wound to speak of.
She stepped to him and ran a hand over his face. "Are you hurt?"
"Nope." he smacked his lips merrily, delighting in her concern. "How about you? You don't look any worse for the wear.
"I'm fine."
"Good." She took his hands in hers, permitting herself a brief moment of comfort, and kissed his cheek. "We can speak more, later." she drew away, tamping down her own burning desire. "Will you stand with me now?"
...always."
Below them, a rumble of confusion passed through their captives.
"I suppose we should say something to them."
Her intended granted her a wry smile. "Yes, we should."
Together they turned to face the captured soldiers below. These men did not love her, they feared her. They were right to, but she hadn't come rule with fear, no matter what they might think.
Time to address that.
She cleared her throat and spoke to them.
"I know what Cersei has told you." She paused for effect, raking her gaze over them. "That I've come to destroy your homes, murder you, and orphan your children. That's Cersei Lannister, not me. I'm not here to murder needlessly, and all I want is to destroy the wheel that has rolled over rich and poor, the benefit of no one but the Cersei Lannisters of the world." another pause now, manufactured to let those very words sink in. "I offer you a choice. Bend the knee and join me. Together we will leave the world a better place than we found it...
Some where already kneeling. Good.
.
..
...or refuse, and die." she finished.
Some more knelt at that. Not many, but some. She took note of their faces.
For while some knelt, others did not. Others stood tall.
Her gaze settled upon one in particular.
"Step forward my lord." when he did, she smiled. "Will you honor me with your name?"
...I am Dickon Tarly," he faltered only a little. "Son of Randyll Tarly."
She gazed upon him. "You will not kneel?"
The boy did not answer.
Tyrion tried to rally, bless him. "You are the future of your house. This war has already wiped one great house from the world. Don't let it happen again. Bend the knee!"
Dickon refused to speak. Did he think silence would spare him?
"Your grace," Tyrion whispered aside. "Nothing scrubs bold notions from a man's head like a few weeks in a dark cell.
She shook her head. "I meant what I said. I'm not here to put men in chains. If that becomes an option many will take it. I've given him a choice. We will see what he makes of it.
"Your grace, if you start beheading entire families-
"I'm not beheading anyone."
The dragons rumbled behind her.
Daenerys watched the color drain from Tyrion's face. Saw the horror in his eyes. Was his faith so easily shaken? Did he think her mad like her father? Her own faith in the man was on somewhat shaky ground itself. Could he not understand a bluff when he heard one? She had no intention of burning men alive. She knew how that would look, and the fear it would inspire. No, they would be given a quiet dose of poison and a peaceful death. Aegon hard argued for it at Dragonstone, and she could see the mercy of it.
All that remained was his decision.
She looked back to Dickon. "What is your choice, Lord Tarly?"
Aegon finally cleared his throat and stepped up beside her. "Be better than your father. Think of your family."
That got a reaction out of the younger man. "You speak to me of family? After what you've done?
"I do, my lord."
"You killed my father!"
"Your father was a twat." it took everything she had not to smile at Aegon's casual dismissal of the man." I offered him a chance to escape and he spat in my face." Aegon's grim countenance remained unwavering, but she could see the light in his eye, the monster within ready to act. "Family means everything to me. As it should yours. You would do well to dwell on the fate of yours should you die here."
Dicokon briddled "And now you threaten me...?"
"It is not a threat." His words held a promise an implicit all their own. "Will you kneel?"
Dickon Tarly gulped once. He looked to Daenerys, now made uncertain. She stared back, until finally, reluctantly, he made his decision.
Dickon grit his teeth...and bent the knee to her. With him, the rest followed, one by one.
Daenerys felt a little thrill of pride. Aegon had done what she could not.
She had chosen her future husband well.
A/N: Shall we continue here next chapter?
I suppose that depends on you, the reader. Looking forward to hearing from you~!
As ever, the Embers rule remains. If people don't like this story? If they don't enjoy it? Well...I'll not continue it. That's no joke, folks. I'm so busy these days with two jobs; basically, I don't have time off. Not anymore. My free time is limited and as such, I can't afford to focus on something folks don't like. Reviews keep me writing in these times, and keep the daily updates flowing. Silence...silence only hurts. I hate having to beg for feedback, but without it...well, it feels like I'm not making an impact.
By all means, speak up! Make yourselves heard!
So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...
...Review...Would You Kindly?
And enjoy the Previews!
Well, potential ones.
As ever:
SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS!
PLOT DETAILS AHOY!
YE BE WARNED!
Read at your own risk!
As ever, these are from the far flung future...or are they~?!
(Previews!) AKA Season Seven...
...welcome home, Ser Jorah."
We will not take Casterly Rock with the unsulied.
A pall fell over the room. Tyrion waited for the other boot to drop. Eventually, it did.
Surely you do not mean to burn it?!
No, it will fall.
It has no value. The matter is not up for discussion. I have heard your counsel and-
The doors bust open.
Jon winced. "You're insane."
"I am." Aegon-Naruto!-granted him a small a little. "But I'm sane enough to admit it."
"That doesn't make any sense.
"Trying having your skull smashed in as a babe, dying, and coming back. See if things make sense then."
"I have!"
"Someone smashed in your skull as a baby?"
Jon blanched. "No...but I suffered something similar not long ago."
Aegon's eye fastened upon him. "...you're telling the truth, aren't you?"
"You want a wight, send a dragon over the bloody wall, grab the first one you find, and come back!" he thumped a fist against the table. "No faffing about, no grand heroics, none of this stupid horse piss."
Make peace? With Cersei? You're joking. Tell me he's joking.
Aegon rose from his chair. Jon stood his ground.
In hindsight, that might've been a mistake,
"I would sooner," he touched one hand to the side of his face,"Gouge out my other eye than make ANY sort of peace with Tywin Lannister and his bitch of a daughter. The only reason I don't count Jamie Lannister among that number is because he frankly did the world a FAVOR when he killed Aerys all those years ago. No. I'll kill every other Lannsiter I cna get my hands on, present company excluded of course." He granted a quick nod to Tyrion.
"Your war won't matter when the dead march south!"
"And how are they going to come South, hmm? Last I looked, there's a Wall in the way. We have time. If your "Night King" can raise the dead, the last thing we want to do is dangle a dragon in front of him. No, we need to be smart about this...
"Its too late now. Don't you see? Look at them.
She loves him. And he loves her.
We can't tell them."
Arya quirked a brow. "You can fight?"
"When I must."
She drew Needle. "Show me."
"You have spirit." he patted Sansa's head then laughed when she scowled and squirmed away. "I like that. Really, I do. But if I catch you trying to undermine my wife again...we'll be having words."
"You're content to be her mad dog, then?"
Dragon, actually." he tapped his eyepatch. "I never said anything about being sane...
Someone knocked softly on the door.
Naruto swept it open slowly.
Daenerys stared back.
...may I come in?"
EDIT: Hope this chapter put a smile on your face! Have a great day~!
As ever, the Embers rule remains. If people don't like this story? If they don't enjoy it? Well...I'll not continue it. That's no joke, folks. I'm quite busy these days with two jobs, I seldom have time off. My free time is limited and as such, I can't afford to focus on something folks don't like. Reviews keep me writing in these times, and keep the daily updates flowing. Silence...well, silence only hurts. I hate having to beg for feedback, but without that...it feels like I'm not making an impact.
So by all means, speak up! Make yourselves heard!
Every word counts!
Sincerely,
~Nz.