The Narrow Sea…

The deck of Queen Rhaenys was shrouded in a thick, impenetrable fog that seemed to stretch out endlessly in every direction. Addam of Hull stood with his arms folded, tapping his fingers anxiously against his forearms. The mist was a nuisance, but it wasn't what was really bothering him. Viserys, Nettles, and Lucerys were nowhere to be seen, and they should have reported back by now. Addam couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong – perhaps Luke was being cautious as this was his first battle, uncertain of Nettles' intentions as she usually took longer than expected and finding it uncharacteristic for Viserys to be late in any circumstance. Addam's mind raced with possibilities, and he couldn't help but wonder what could have held them up for so long.

But a juvenile dragon's shrill echoing through the air soon broke everyone's concentration.

"Dragon incoming!" one of the sailors called out.

Addam raised his gaze, squinting to enhance his vision. It was Arrax, with Lucerys looking visibly troubled. "Prince Lucerys, what's going on?" he inquired assertively.

"It's the Triarchy! They found us!" Lucerys warned.

"What?! How many?!"

"Forty-five, I think. Viserys and Nettles stayed behind to hold them off, but they won't last long without help! Please, Addam! You have to send your ships!"

"Shit!" Addam cursed. "All hands to your posts!" he called out to his crew. "Trim the sails! Man the oars! Get those catapults and scorpions armed and ready to fire on my command! We move! Let's go! Double time!"

The sounds of a war horn echoed across the sea, serving as a clarion call to Addam's auxiliary ships that the enemy was lurking nearby, their presence a looming threat. With great speed and determination, each vessel surged forward, utilizing both the power of the mighty wind and the synchronized rowing of oars. The sails billowed, capturing the gusts of wind that propelled them on, while the rhythmic cadence of the rowers' oars sliced through the water, propelling the ships with an almost supernatural speed. As the ships cut through the waves, the sea spray danced in the air, mingling with the heavy tension over the fleet. The Triarchy's northern squadron awaited them with their own arsenal of warships. Without help from the Velaryon auxiliary fleet, Viserys and Nettles and their dragons were in deep trouble.

Lucerys, unwilling to abandon yet another cousin to their fate, tightly secured himself to his saddle and urged his dragon forward. With a piercing shriek, Arrax soared through the air, driven by the sole purpose of reuniting with Maelyx and Sheepstealer in the midst of the battle. He had already lost Daeron to Aemond above Shipbreaker Bay; Luke wasn't about to lose Viserys to the Triarchy remnants over the Narrow Sea. Please, let me make it time! Hold on, Viserys! Hold on! I'm coming!

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Corlys tightened his grip on his battleaxe, feeling the weapon's weight in his hand. The cold metal sent a surge of determination through his veins, fueling his resolve. He stood tall, his broad shoulders squared, scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. The anticipation hung heavy in the air as if the elements held their breath, waiting for the impending clash of steel and bloodshed.

As the Lord of the Tides waited for the signal from Addam's or Alyn's fleets, Corlys heard the faint sound of war horns blaring from both the north and the south. The haunting melody cut through the silence, echoing across the vast expanse of the battlefield. The dense fog surrounding him muffled the sound, but he could still make out the distinct tones, each note carrying a sense of urgency and impending danger.

Suddenly, hues of orange flashed and dissipated through the fog, accompanied by the sounds of dragons roaring. Again and again and again.

With a deep breath, Corlys readied himself. The time had come to take action, to lead his men into the heart of battle. "Men! Begin the attack! Reinforce the northern and southern fleets!" he commanded. "Today, we stand united against our enemies! Today, we send the Triarchy to the depths of hell!"

Jaehaerys and Jacaerys, mounted on their dragons Vermithor and Vermax, peered down at the main fleet below them as it surged through the waters with a relentless force, their ships cutting through the waters like a knife through butter, their sails billowing in the wind. They quickly realized that Corlys had given the order to connect with Addam's and Alyn's fleets and unleash the full power of the Velaryon fleet on the Triarchy remnants. They knew that the success of the battle hinged on the fleet's ability to hold the enemy at bay long enough for them to execute their plan to encircle the Triarchy forces on all sides. This double envelopment tactic would trap their enemies between the Velaryon fleet and the combined forces of Addam and Alyn of Hull, leaving the Triarchy remnants with no room to maneuver and cut off from an escape route.

The double envelopment was a daring strategy requiring precise timing and coordination. Jaehaerys and Jacaerys had spent countless hours strategizing and refining their plan. And now their joint efforts were being put to the ultimate test.

"You ready, Jace?" Jaehaerys called out.

"Let's go, Jay," Jaehaerys replied.

"Be careful out there. And stick to the plan. Sōvēs! (Fly!)"

"Sōvēs! (Fly!)"

Vermithor let out a deep, resonating roar, beating against the air with a thunderous force as the Bronze Fury ascended toward the battlefield, accompanied by the smaller and younger Vermax – who let out a reverberating, shilling screech. With their riders firmly gripping the reins of their saddles, Jaehaerys and Jacaerys prepared themselves for what was believed to be the largest naval battle ever in history.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Kill the dragons!" several Triarchy shouted.

"Nock! Draw! Loose!"

"Fire the scorpions!"

"Whoooo!" Aegon hollered, gripping the reins of his saddle. "Dracarys!"

Corxes darted through the sky, executing a swift and precise aerial strafe. As the young dragon soared for another pass, he breathed a torrent of scorching dragonflame upon the decks of five vessels belonging to the Triarchy remnants' southern squadron, engulfing the Triarchy's crew in a fiery inferno.

However, Aegon and Corxes were soon forced to break off their attack when arrows and scorpion bolts were shot at them. The Targaryen prince pulled hard on the reins to guide his dragon away, narrowly avoiding being hit as he and Corxes swerved and dodged the incoming projectiles. One scorpion bolt breezed past Corxes' tail, the close call causing the dragon to growl in frustration; of the few arrows that managed to reach him, four stuck to his scaley hide but did not penetrate. Corxes growled at the tickling sensation as if someone had tried to pinch him. Despite the minor annoyance, the dragon remained steady as he and Aegon prepared for their next move.

"Aegon, you're getting too reckless! Don't fly so low!" Rhaenyra exclaimed. Where in Seven hells is Aeonar? "Dracarys, Syraks! (Syrax!)"

Syrax, displaying equal prowess, unleashed a fierce inferno upon the Triarchy fleet before swiftly retreating to safety. The Triarchy corsairs retaliated with a volley of arrows and scorpion bolts, narrowly missing Rhaenyra, although three arrows managed to lodge themselves into Syrax's right-wing membrane. The she-dragon emitted a furious growl, pivoting to make another assault as Corxes swiftly seized a Triarchy corsair with his foot claws, hoisting him high in the air before dropping him into the ocean. The corsair was now nowhere to be seen, swallowed up by the churning waters of the Narrow Sea. Corxes now had eight more arrows sticking to his midsection, making him growl.

Despite the arrows lodged in her wing, Syrax continued to rain down fire upon the enemy ships, her scales glowing with the intensity of the flames. Her dragonflame engulfed two more ships before the she-dragon deftly plucked a scorpion from the deck of one of the enemy vessels. She tore the weapon apart with her powerful talons, rendering it useless, before dropping it into the Narrow Sea. However, the proximity caused the Triarchy archers on deck to hit Syrax with six more arrows: two in the right flank, two in her thigh, and two along the length of the dragon's tail.

"Seven hells, there's so many of them…!" Rhaenyra cursed.

"Aunt Rhaenyra!" Aemma called out. "I'm coming in! Get out of the way!"

Rhaenyra's gaze lifted, catching sight of Silverwing preparing to strike. As the dragon's jaws parted, a fiery sphere of intense heat – shrouded in a bright orange-yellow shade veiled by a touch of dark blue – materialized, growing larger and more menacing with each passing second, dancing and flickering, casting an eerie glow on its surroundings. The intense flames within Silverwing's gaping maw fueled the draconic fireball, primed for release. Sensing the impending danger, Rhaenyra and Syrax swiftly veered to the left, while Aegon and Corxes instinctively opted for the right. Aemma now had an unobstructed path to her intended targets.

"Dracarys, Gēltīkun! (Silverwing!) lēda kostion! (Full power!)"

With a swift motion, Silverwing arched her head backward before propelling it forward with a forceful jerk in a display of sheer power. The elder she-dragon's fireball, compressed into a concentrated sphere of blazing energy, shot forth from her jaws, propelled by the sheer force of her mighty breath. It streaked through the sky, leaving a trail of smoke and embers in its wake, before colliding with a Triarchy dreadnaught. The massive war galley stood no chance against the sheer force of Silverwing's attack. The impact was explosive, as the concentrated spherical fireball tore through the ship's hull like a hot knife through butter, engulfing it in a maelstrom of dragonflames.

The resulting explosion was a sight to behold. A blinding flash of light engulfed the dreadnaught, followed by a shockwave that rippled across the surface of the Narrow Sea.

The force of the blast sent nearby ships reeling, their hulls creaking and groaning under immense pressure. Triarchy corsairs stumbled and clung desperately to anything they could find, their faces etched with terror as they fought to maintain their balance. The fiery blast illuminated the battlefield, casting an eerie glow over the ensuing chaos and destruction. Ships rocked violently, their crews scrambling to regain control, while others were swallowed by the churning waves, consumed by the wrath of Silverwing's attack. The shockwave from the explosion rippled across the surface of the Narrow Sea; the fiery inferno cast a surreal glow over the water, causing the ocean to churn and froth as if nature was protesting against the Triarchy's presence, turning the sea into a swirling vortex where the obliterated dreadnaught once was, swallowing any remnants of the destroyed vessel and threatening to consume any ship that dared to remain in its path.

Aegon looked on in awe. Whoa… so that's what an elder dragon's power looks like up close…

Upon witnessing the destruction, Rhaenyra observed the aftermath. The explosion's blast radius allowed her and her nephew and niece to catch their breath and brace themselves for the next attack. However, Rhaenyra was taken aback by Aemma's swift acquisition of the knowledge to tap into an elder dragon's immense power, especially so soon after the Battle of Rook's Rest. The ability to control such formidable creatures was a skill that had been honed over years of training and experience, a feat that had been achieved by only a select few of Old Valyria's dragonlord families throughout history. Until then, only Aemond and Jaehaerys had managed to accomplish this feat. And yet, Aemma, Rhaenyra's niece, displayed an uncanny aptitude for learning this long-forgotten ancient technique. She appears to be a quick study, absorbing information like a sponge and applying it precisely. Rhaenyra knew this was a rare gift, one that could potentially tip the scale in the war for control of the Iron Throne.

The Triarchy remnants' southern fleet reorganized as the smoke cleared and the sea settled.

"Target that dragon," Racallio ordered.

The Tyroshi general's men worked relentlessly to load and aim their scorpions. With swift movements, they cranked the wheel and unleashed another bolt, carefully aiming at Silverwing. The air was tense as more scorpions were readied for the impending attack.

"Aemma! Get out of the way!" Rhaenyra warned.

"Ngh!" Aemma strained, yanking the reins sideways.

As the scorpion bolts were released, Silverwing swiftly veered to the right away from the Triarchy ships, evading the projectiles as they zoomed through the skies. The projectiles, aimed to bring down the elder she-dragon, whizzed past her, missing their mark by mere inches. The relentless assault from the Triarchy remnants' southern fleet caught Rhaenyra, Aegon, and their dragons off guard. The enemy ships, armed with scorpions and manned by skilled archers, had launched a surprise attack, hoping to cripple the Blacks' forces. The relentless assault ultimately forced Aemma and Silverwing to retreat to a secure distance, putting them further away from the others. Aemma knew that staying within the range of the scorpion bolts would only lead to her demise.

The Triarchy remnants, emboldened by their initial success, pressed on with their assault. Their ships, sleek and deadly, closed in on Rhaenyra and Aegon, their scorpions ready to unleash a barrage of iron bolts.

Rhaenyra and Aegon, watching from their vantage point, felt frustrated and disappointed as they swerved through the air on their dragons to avoid incoming fire. They had hoped that Aemma and Silverwing could provide the much-needed support, but now they were left to face the Triarchy remnants alone. The odds seemed insurmountable, and the weight of the situation bore down on them. Their primary support had been compromised, and they were left with no choice but to devise a new plan. Rhaenyra's mind raced, searching for any possible advantage they could exploit. "Watch that crossfire, Aegon!" she warned.

"I know, aunt Rhaenyra, I know!" Aegon replied. Amidst the flurry of arrows and scorpion bolts hurtling towards him, Aegon faced the challenge of maneuvering through the chaos. The thick fog only added to the difficulty, obscuring his vision further. Determined to find a way forward, Aegon tightly grasped the reins, desperately searching for a path out of this treacherous situation. "There you are. Now… Dracar―"

Suddenly, a huge bolt pierces Corxes's chest. "*REEEEEEE! ReEAHAhAEAH!*" the dragon screeched in pain, struggling to remain airborne.

"Korksys! (Corxes!)" Aegon shouted in shock.

Rhaenyra gasped.

Racallio smirked. "Hit 'em again, boys," he said.

"Fire!" a corsair shouted.

"Corxes, NOOO!"

Fueled by their relentless pursuit of victory, the Triarchy armada continued to rain down scorpion bolts upon the already injured Corxes. With deadly precision, each bolt found its mark, forcefully penetrating his chest, followed by a third piercing his neck with a sickening thud, severing vital arteries and causing a crimson stream of blood to gush forth from the fatal wound, staining the air with a macabre crimson hue. With its last breath, Corxes emitted a gurgling sound akin to a draconic death rattle that echoed through the battlefield as he fell from the skies toward the vast expanse of the Narrow Sea below. His descent posed a grave threat to Prince Aegon the Younger of House Targaryen, as the force of Corxes' fall threatened to drag the young prince down into a watery grave. As the sea loomed closer, Aegon's heart raced, his mind racing to find a way to escape the impending disaster.

"AEGON!" Rhaenyra shouted in terror. "Aderī, Syraks! Mazēdan jāla! (Quickly, Syrax! Grab him!)"

Syrax gracefully maneuvered in a circular motion, elegantly folding her wings against her body to hasten her descent. Rhaenyra anxiously gripped her reins in pursuit, desperately aiming to reach the plummeting Corxes. The dire situation had ensnared her nephew, with Rhaenyra catching sight of Aegon struggling to free himself. She knew that if Aegon were to perish in this treacherous moment, she would forever carry the weight of self-condemnation, the guilt of not being able to save him.

"Aegon! Hold on, Aegon! I'm coming!" Rhaenyra refused to give in to hopelessness. With every ounce of determination she possessed, she pushed her dragon forward, her desperation fueling her pursuit. She would not let her nephew slip through her fingers without a fight.

Syrax carefully positioned herself and maneuvered beneath the slowly rotating corpse of the deceased young dragon, aligning herself with Corxes' movement. Her muscles strained, her body contorted, but she refused to give in to fatigue or doubt. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the dragon's rotation came to a halt. But they were still in danger of crashing.

"Aegon! Grab my hand!" Rhaenyra extended her arm out.

After finally freeing himself from the saddle and cautiously gripping the edge to maintain his balance, Aegon exerted every ounce of strength as he extended his arm towards his aunt. His muscles strained and trembled under the weight of his own body, but he was determined to reach her. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he fought against the pull of gravity, his fingers stretching towards her outstretched hand. "Ngh! I… I can't reach!" he strained.

"We have them in sight, general," a corsair reported.

Racallio nodded. "Good. Finish 'em off. Both of them," he commanded.

"Ready the scorpions!"

"Prepare to fire!"

Before the Triarchy remnants' southern fleet could continue their relentless assault, an unexpected turn of events occurred. Each ship was suddenly struck from the side, causing chaos and throwing nearly everyone off balance. Racallio swiftly turned around, only to witness the fleet of Alyn of Hull colliding with them. The impact of this collision not only caused significant damage to their ships, their masts snapping like twigs and their hulls splintering under immense pressure but also disrupted the Triarchy's southern fleet, diverting their intended course.

"All hands! Prepare for close quarters!" Racallio raised his weapons in both hands.

Without delay, three more fiery spheres of intense heat hurtled towards them, leaving destruction in their wake. The blast radius of these spheres obliterated five additional ships, further diminishing the Triarchy's forces. Racallio's gaze returned to the sky, where Silverwing was preparing for yet another attack, breaking through the fog with her mighty wings. With precision, Silverwing unleashed another devastating fireball, a concentrated sphere of blazing energy. However, this time, the target was the water. As the fireball made contact with the sea, it generated a conflagration energy sphere that soared several feet high into the air, creating a formidable wall of water.

"*Raaaaaaaaa!*" Silverwing roared.

As the Velaryon forces boarded each ship, Westerosi knights and Triarchy corsairs engaged in a fierce confrontation on the vast expanse of the sea, wielding swords, shields, and various weapons made of steel, wood, and iron. Amidst the tumultuous clash, filled with shouts and curses exchanged between the two adversaries, the scene evoked memories of the Battle of Bloodstone. Ultimately, as Alyn of Hull joined the fray, he drew his sword from its sheath, prepared to engage in combat. "All hands, give them no quarter!" he ordered. The salty sea air whipped through his hair as he gripped his sword tightly, feeling the weight of it in his hand. The clash of steel against steel reverberated around him, drowning out the sounds of crashing waves and the creaking of the ships beneath his feet.

As Alyn clashed blades with a Triarchy corsair, their eyes locked in a fierce gaze, his determination burned brighter. He could feel the weight of his ancestors' legacy on his shoulders, their bravery and valor flowing through his veins. He disarmed his opponent with a swift and calculated strike, sending the corsair's weapon flying into the sea. The battle raged on, the clash of swords and the cries of the wounded echoing in Alyn's ears. He fought with a relentless energy, his movements fueled by a combination of skill, training, and sheer willpower. Each adversary he faced was met with a calculated strike, a testament to his years of preparation.

"JUMP, AEGON! YOU HAVE TO JUMP!" Aemma shouted. "HURRY!"

"Hurry, Aegon! Take my hand!" Rhaenyra strained.

Aegon felt a sensation of time decelerating as he found himself in a dire situation. The death of his dragon Corxes was dragging him perilously close to the water, a potential death sentence. He had to rely on his training and devise an escape plan before it became too late to survive. Aegon released his tight hold, inhaling deeply and clenching his jaw. Seizing what appeared to be one final gambit, the prince made a daring leap of faith from his saddle, extending his arm towards Rhaenyra. With mere seconds remaining, he grasped his aunt's arm, and she reciprocated with an equally firm grip. And so, with their hands firmly clasped, Rhaenyra refused to let her nephew go.

"Sōvēs, Syraks! Hepās, vēzot! (Fly, Syrax! Climb, upward!)" Rhaenyra commanded, with Aegon's weight tugging at her arm. As Syrax ascended, Rhaenyra exerted her strength to counterbalance Aegon's weight, swinging him back and forth before slinging him towards the vacant seat behind her with a swift motion of her arm.

Although fortunate to escape with his life, Aegon felt his heart sink as he gazed down from the precipice, catching a final glimpse of Corxes. The dragon's body tumbled one last time in mid-air before crashing into the sea, disappearing beneath the churning foam below. Never again would Corxes emerge, forever lost beneath the depths. Corxes, his dragon, the same dragon whose egg was placed beside him in his cradle as a baby, was dead. Corxes… I… Clenching his fists tightly, Aegon felt a fire burning up inside him. "Aunt Rhaenyra, drop me off!" he seethed.

"What?! Are you insane, Aegon?! I just saved your life; now you want to risk it again by― Wha…?! Aegon! Wait! DON'T!"

Aegon disregarded his aunt's warnings and boldly leaped from Syrax, hurtling towards the Triarchy ships below. The wind rushed past his face, causing his flowing Valyrian silver hair to dance in the breeze. The fire in his eyes burned with an intense rage, fueled by the loss of his beloved dragon, as he sought vengeance for Corxes. Spotting a sail in the distance, he swiftly drew two daggers from his belt and sliced through the fabric, using it to slow his descent. Amidst the clash of swords between the Velaryons and Triarchy corsairs below, Aegon's feet landed firmly on the wooden mast. Seizing the opportunity, he pounced upon an unsuspecting corsair from above, driving his blades deep into the back of his skull.

The soldier he was fighting was taken aback by the sudden appearance of Aegon, not having noticed or heard him approaching. However, he quickly regained his composure, acknowledging Aegon with a nod before heading off to engage in battle against the Triarchy troops. Meanwhile, Aegon swiftly retrieved his blades from his defeated adversary and pivoted around, only to find the traitor Ser Daeron Velaryon standing before him, brandishing a sword.

"Aegon Targaryen," Daeron said, pointing his blade at him. "So far from home and in our domain: open water. And now look at you. A Targaryen without a dragon. Vulnerable. Too bad. So sad."

Aegon drew his sword, refusing to allow any traitors to escape his grasp. "Dragon or no, you piece of treacherous shit, you're STILL GOING TO BURN!" he roared.


Chapter End


Author's Note: Continuing from where we left off, Luke hurried back to warn Addam of the threat in the north. Meanwhile, Aegon, Rhaenyra and Aemma play their part, but appear to be having some difficulty. We also witness Silverwing tap into her full power to unleash on the Triarchy's southern fleet, just as Vhagar and Vermithor did before at Rook's Rest. However, even she was forced to pull back. With the fog playing a factor, Aegon's dragon Corxes was the first to fall. Although lucky enough to escape and the intervention of Alyn of Hull's fleet, Aegon is yearning for revenge. How will this affect the whole Battle of the Gullet? Let me know as I continue to do more research.

randomdude24: The Battle continues, no surprise, the fog would act as a cover for both sides, each took advantage of it.

Glad Aegon the Younger is alive for now, but lost his dragon, I truly expected this battle to result in dragon losses, unfortunately, unlike Rooks Rest battling on the open sea is different especially when each ship has anti-dragon weapons.

Looks like Aegon will be engaged in a battle with Dareon, hoping Aegons ego doesn't get the better of him.

Questions,

What's the overall damage for the Triarchy? How many ships and men have they lost so far?

―Northern fleet is still intact; Southern fleet lost 19 ships and around 800 corsairs - most of which were caused by Silverwing's concentrated fireball attack as it inflicted much higher damage and blast radius; Corxes' and Syrax's attacks were like watching the top of a horse carriage on fire; plus, they had to keep moving so their dragonflame isn't that concentrated enough to breach the Triarchy's southern fleets' hull due to the barrage of arrows and scorpion bolts fired at them.

So if Aegon arrived on the ship with Dareon Velaryon, does that mean he's near Admiral Sharako Lohar and the other commanders of the Triarchy?

―One of them, but he's still so far away.

MichaelBishopone: Oh no...if aegon dies...nothing will stop Aeonar