The Reach 301 AC.
Ser Jon Fossoway.
He rode with his Goodnephew Garlan and as part of the princess's escort. Somewhere above them, a dragon flew and Jon found his eyes would turn in search of it every so often. Other than a dark speck that could be the dragon or even a bird, he found no sign of each and every time. Yet one look at just how relaxed the princess seemed to be was enough to tell him it was still there. As for the man who rode next to the princess, Jon wasn't sure that man knew how to relax. Targo Nadhoo or something he'd heard him named as and the man hadn't smiled once since they'd left Highgarden.
It was a strange thing, as had someone asked Jon a few days earlier if he'd have been able to raise a smile, then he'd have looked at them as if they'd lost their minds. As they rode, however, he'd found himself in good cheer. Almost all of the reason for that was the princess herself. Small, slight, barely a slip of a girl, and yet there was something about her that just exuded confidence. She was a beauty too, one that Jon wagered he'd never seen the likes of before. The dragon in them, he'd heard some of his men say as he'd passed them when they were at camp.
Princess Daenerys rode her horse as if she'd been born in the saddle. She told tales of riding outside Volantis with the queen and king along with other members of her family. When she laughed it was like the sound of the sweetest lute or harp and she laughed often. Jon had even wondered if there was something more than just friendly talk between her and Garlan more than once. Though his Goodnephew had been quick to set him right. Not that Garlan was against the possibility of a match, he very much was not, but he now understood it was never one that could take place.
'More's the pity' Jon thought as he caught the princess and Garlan laughing at something once again.
The sound of the wings beating above them was loud. As Jon turned his head once more to the sky, he saw the black dragon clearly. It was, as it had been the first time he'd seen it, an awe-inspiring sight. As too was the even truer smile that came over the princess's face when the black dragon landed some distance away from them. With some words to Garlan that Jon didn't hear, the princess and her stoic guard both rode away from them and quickly dismounted before one after the other, they climbed up on the dragon's back and took to the sky. Watching them as they flew off, Jon moved his horse closer to Garlan's and asked where they were going.
"Princess Daenerys intends to scout the army we're to face, Jon. They can see far more as they fly over the ground than our outriders as they merely ride over it."
"Can they truly?" he asked, not that he didn't believe it, but more he wondered what could be seen from atop a dragon's back.
"Torgho Nudho told me of it somewhat," Garlan said and Jon quickly took a mental note of the correct way to say the name. He had no wish to get on the man's bad side after all as had seen him beat even Garlan in a spar "Though he wouldn't go into too much detail, it's how the Dragonknight makes his plans of attack I'd wager."
"And the princess seeks to do the same?"
"She does," Garlan said, his smile an easy one and despite already having had this conversation, Jon felt the need to do so once again.
"You and the princess, Garlan, is there truly no chance?" he asked and Garlan sighed before answering.
"Though she's not said it to me herself, Jon, the queen has spoken to Margaery about it during one of their talks. It's not she nor the Dragonknight who'll choose who the princess weds, it's her brother, the High Emperor. Queen Rhaenys has made it clear that it'll not be a match in Westeros her father will consider."
"They think so little of us?" Jon asked, somewhat annoyed.
"Compared to them we are little. Do you know how much coin there is in reserve in Meereen? Lys?" Garlan asked and Jon shook his head.
"No."
"Neither do I, but I wager it puts the entirety of the Reach to shame. No, any hope we ever have of a match with the dragons won't be through me, I'm sorry to say."
"You think there is hope though?" Jon asked curiously.
"Margaery, Jon. There's your hope." Garlan said proudly.
They rode for more than an hour or so. During this time both he and Garlan had started to look to the sky more and more in worry. The day was darkening and they'd need to make camp soon enough and so at the sight of the stream, they began to do so. No sooner had they stopped than the dragon arrived back and landed some distance from them. Garlan and Jon himself were among those who rode to offer the princess and her guard a horse to ride back to their still-forming camp.
The sight he was greeted with when they reached the black dragon was as much an awe-inspiring one as seeing it fly through the air. Standing in front of it and looking tiny in comparison, the princess whispered words in a language that Jon understood not. As for the dragon, the sounds it made could only be described as joyful. Torgho Nudho stood a couple of feet away, his hands behind his back and the tip of his spear protruding over his shoulder. To all eyes he looked uninterested at the sight in front of him and yet Jon would wager that their swiftest horse and rider wouldn't reach the princess before the spear was in their chest.
"You found the Lannisters, princess? "Garlan asked as the princess left the dragon behind and mounted her horse easily.
"We did. There is much we must discuss, Ser Garlan."
They held a war council that evening and Jon worried that their numbers would prove even more of a disadvantage than he had feared. All in all, they had close to 10,000 men with 4,000 of those mounted. According to the princes, it would be twice that at least that they faced with the danger of more arriving to join them. The Lannisters had split their army into three with the largest force being led by Tywin Lannister himself no doubt. Though they knew not who led the force they'd face, Jon would wager it would be one led by either Prince Jamie or his uncle Prince Gerion. Either one would be a formidable opponent. Especially with the numerical advantage.
"Would it not be best to attack this second force, princess?" Garlan asked and Jon looked to see the small nod of Torgho Nudho's head.
"I intend to do so, Ser Garlan." Princess Daenerys said, "I mean to break their spirit and their ranks long before we give battle to the army we must face."
"What are your orders, princess?" Garlan asked.
By the time they marched the next day, they did so without the princess but with her stoic guard. The Princess and the dragon had left sometime during the night and with the gods' good graces, they would arrive before their own battle began. A battle that would be happening today if what the princess said was true. Again, Jon's eyes looked to the sky often as they rode, and once again he found no sight of the black dragon when he did so.
It was after midday when they reached the field and almost as they did so, the Lannisters did as well. Looking across at them as they lined up in the distance, it was clear that their numbers were as the princess had named them as. Waiting for the parley to be called, Jon again looked to the sky and once again found no respite at what he saw there. He, Garlan, and their guards rode out to the middle of the field and they were soon joined by the leaders of the army they'd come to face. It turned out to be Prince Jaime who led them and Jon had rarely if ever seen a more impressive-looking warrior.
Jaime rode a white stallion and wore gilded golden armor. His helm was a lion's head forged in gilded gold complete with what looked to be a mane of sorts. Watching him as he removed the helm, Jon could imagine that he was every young maiden's dream. Gold of hair and green of eye were it not for the cocky look on his face then Jon would name him the most handsome man he'd ever seen. He both wished the princess was with them and was glad she was not at the same time. Some women would be swayed by a man who looked as Jaime Lannister did and Princess Daenerys was still a young girl at heart.
"Ser Garlan."
"Prince Jaime."
"Well, now the pleasantries are over with." Jaime said chuckling "I offer you but these terms. Kneel and pledge your sword to my father and join your men to mine own. Together we can force the dragons from our lands and who knows, in time mayhap we can join our great Houses too."
"We reject your terms, Prince Jaime, and offer you our own. Give up this folly and we'll speak on your behalf to King Aemon and Queen Rhaenys. The dragons are merciful, but only to those who deserve it."
Jon looked on as Jaime raised his hand to his brow and looked behind them and then to the skies above before laughing loudly.
"Dragons? I see no dragons, Ser Garlan? Have your so-called king and queen deserted you? Do they leave you to fight alone? I'll make my offer one more time…."
"And I reject it still."
"Very well. When next we meet I'll offer you no quarter, Ser Garlan. I'll look forward to putting the Gallant to the sword."
The two sets of horses turned and rode back quickly and Jon chuckled despite his worries when Garlan spoke.
"Cocky prick."
"Why not tell them of the princess?" one of the guards asked and Garlan laughed.
"You'd have me give up all our surprises, Gareth?"
Though he didn't show it, Jon was sure that Garlan was as nervous as he was when they lined up. As he had to have been when he gave the order to attack. There was no sign of dragons in the sky and as he rode out to give battle, Jon prayed he would hear the beating of the black dragon's wings sooner rather than later.
The Reach 301 AC.
Tyrion.
He'd said goodbye to his uncle and his brother. Jaime and Gerion had their own tasks to do in the upcoming battle and Tyrion envied them not. Nor did he like the fact that they were parting here. As much a folly as he thought the upcoming battle to be, he'd feel it somewhat less so with his brother amongst their own forces. The men who'd instead lead them into the fray were far lesser than Jaime. Though the Mountain would see men's courage falter no doubt.
His father marched their men fast and sought to take the best ground. His battle plans were sound and were it just men of the Reach that they were facing, then Tyrion would feel no doubt whatsoever. It was not just men of the Reach however, it was not simply men nor men at all that gave Tyrion so much doubt. While his father may think that the dragons' reputations were overblown, that was partly because of his nature and mainly because he'd not seen them in the flesh. Tyrion had, and he feared that everything he'd ever heard about them was true. More than that, he feared it was understated and not overblown.
Yet it was not Tyrion Lannister who led this army or who was the architect behind this campaign. His father, the almighty Lion of Casterly Rock, King Tywin Lannister, a man who'd not admit he was wrong even after being proved so, was who was in command. All the rest of them had no choice other than follow. So they rode, he drank alone in his tent and he worried more and more. Then the next day, he'd ride close to, but not too close to his father, and he and the Hound would discuss the battles to come.
"You worry not?" he asked.
"Of course, I worry. Only a fool doesn't worry."
"Yet you show it not?"
"Only a fool shows his worry."
"Is there anything a fool doesn't do?" Tyrion asked in jest.
"Ask fool questions." the Hound said grumpily.
Though some thought Sandor Clegane a poor choice of sworn sword and a man whose tongue was far too sharp for his station, Tyrion was not amongst them. There was an honesty about the Hound. You knew where you stood with him. He was well aware it was coin and coin alone that had both Sandor's loyalty. So many years earlier he'd made him an offer that he believed the man would always live up to.
"Whatever they offer you, I'll pay double, Sandor. Remember that."
Tyrion had meant it too. Should anyone ever seek to get Sandor to betray him, then he'd at least like the chance to beat their offer. He had the coin, there was no point in being stingy with it. Especially if that cost him his life. As they rode through the Reach and each mile took them closer to the battle to come, Tyrion found his thoughts drifting to Jaime.
Had he fought already?
Had he faced no resistance and taken Highgarden by now?
Did his father have his prisoners and so reduce the need for any battle to be fought?
It made him look not to the sky and not search for dragons. Instead, he sought out any sign of riders arriving that were not his father's outriders and yet no message came. When he thought about it more logically it was clear that none would either. There was no way that Jaime had reached Highgarden as of yet. If anything their own fight would come long before then. Something that was proved to be true, not more than a day later.
Tyrion had slept comfortably. He'd found a camp follower and paid her twice the coin that the captain of Lord Banefort's guards was offering. She was a pretty little dark-haired thing and talented to boot. After breaking his fast, he'd mounted his horse and by midday, they had reached the grounds his father wished the battle to be fought upon. To both Tyrion's and his father's dismay, they were not the first to do so. As there lined up against them on the hill that his father had wished to name his own, the Reach Army awaited.
While he'd not lie and say that seeing his father's annoyance was something that he enjoyed, it was a short-term feeling only. For all too soon he began to ponder on the fact that his father was right to be annoyed and that while they had the numbers, they'd lost some of their advantages. Tyrion was almost apoplectic when the time came for the parley. His father showed his pettiness and gravely insulted Rhaenys Targaryen in doing so. So much so that by the time they rode out to meet with the self-proclaimed Queen of Westeros, Tyrion worried that no rules of parley would be respected. To his relief they very much were.
"King Tywin." the woman he assumed to be Rhaenys Targaryen said.
"Lady Targaryen." his father replied arrogantly.
Tyrion was torn between looking at the woman for whom Aemon Targaryen had accepted exile and turned down the offer of wedding Tyrion's niece, and the men who were with her. The sheer beauty of the woman winning out for now. Rhaenys Targaryen was clearly from Dorne. She had black almost raven-like hair and deep purple eyes. Tanned, poised and though she wore armor, clearly possessing a wondrous figure, he could fault the Dragonknight, not for his choice.
As for the men with her. One of them was clearly the former King Gwayne Gardener while the man next to him seemed to be one of the Tyrells, Loras, or Garlan mayhap. The two men who whore white cloaks were known to him only by reputation and yet it was easy to see which was which. Ser Barristan Selmy was as old as Tyrion's father and looked as fierce and vibrant as Jaime had named him. His brother respected the man's skills greatly and would be upset that he'd not get the chance to face off against the Bold. As for the other man, his legend was even more storied than the Bold's was. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, arguably the greatest swordsman in Westeros or Essos and even more arguably the greatest swordsman that ever lived. Knowing Jaime as he did, Tyrion would wager seeing Dawn and imagining it against Brightroar would only be beaten by facing the Dragonknight and Dark Sister in his brother's dreams.
"Your offer is rejected, King Tywin and your insults will be remembered and answered in kind. We offer you no quarter and this war now ends with your death. Be thankful that my husband is elsewhere or that death would be a long time coming and not one I'd wish even on a fool like you." Rhaenys said as she turned her horse and she and those with her rode back to their lines.
"What happened?" Tyrion asked the Hound as his father and uncle turned their own horses around and did the same.
"Your father named the queen a foreign whore, Tyrion. Told her to take her lizard and scurry back to the lands from whence they came."
"The fucking fool." Tyrion spat, though far out of his father's earshot.
He would not be fighting in the upcoming battle. Nor would the Hound whose job it was to make sure that he suffered no wounds here today. Joffrey would be and his horror of a nephew was busy regaling people with the things he was going to do to Rhaenys Targaryen. Tyrion almost wished the Dragonknight was here and that he heard some of them. Only the worry that if he and the Blood Wyrm were here then they'd already be lost stopped him from truly thinking so.
The sky seemed to darken before the first skirmishes began. Archers fired arrows that didn't hit home, and some cavalry moved onto the field and tried to will their enemies to leave their ranks and give chase. Not that a single one of them did so. His father sat on his white horse wearing armor that looked like an even more expensive version of his brothers. Tyrion however was forbidden from wearing anything that named him a Lion other than his cloak and the family sigil embossed on his breastplate. Meanwhile, both Jaime and his father took to the field like lions reborn. As too did his uncles, though both of them as much lesser lines.
Thus far there had not even been a true fight and they'd seen no sign of the dragon. Tyrion heard his father name it once again as a myth and legend used to frighten children. Not that he was saying they didn't exist mind, his own words and others having named them as true enough for his father to accept they did. More it was that his father was now even more convinced that it was only the Dragonknight who could truly bring a dragon to bear. That with him far from here, they'd not face one today.
So confident was Tywin Lannister in his assertions that after an hour or so of teasing and prodding, the battle began for true. Archers, infantry, cavalry, and men were sent to the flank and led by his uncle Kevan. His father sent in his first wave and it was enough to bring the dragon into play. All eyes looked to the sky as Queen Rhaenys Targaryen and Meraxes flew out over the field. Tyrion's gaze however was on his father and he swore he saw fear there albeit briefly.
"Fire the Scorpions"
"Archers aim for the Rider, not the dragon!"
The orders went out and then they were greeted by the sound of thunder as Meraxes roared loudly before unleashing her flames.
The Princess's Wroth, The Reach 301 AC.
Gerion Lannister.
They rode with Jaime and the larger part of their army for some of the distance before splitting off. Jaime was to lead the Vanguard while he was to attack from the east. He had a little over ten thousand men in his command, not quite a quarter of the full army but a large enough force given they'd be somewhat unexpected. Still, as he led the march from the front, Gerion did so with one eye on the sky at all times.
While his brother may sneer at the effectiveness of dragons, Tywin had never seen the Bloody Gate for himself, Gerion had. Many years earlier he'd traveled to the Vale in search of a bride, or to be more precise he'd done so with his brother's hope for a betrothal as the reason for his journey. Gerion had ridden through the Bloody Gate and into the Vale itself and he knew full well just how formidable an obstacle it was. To hear that it was now no more and all it had taken was a couple of passes of the dragon. No, Gerion would certainly not underestimate just how big a danger one would cause their forces.
So, they camped in cover and marched not too far from the same. It made it heavier going but was more than worth it to Gerion's mind. They'd still reach their destination with time to spare and thus far it had been both an easy march and a boring one. He wished he had Tyrion with him. His nephew was a great wit and always amused him. Instead, he was left with dolts like his cousin Stafford and Leo Lefford. Though he did have Lord Brax's son Flement with him and he'd always much liked the younger man. As they readied to set up camp for either the last or second last night, he turned to Flement and bid him to give the order.
"At once, my prince," Flement replied and Gerion tried not to glare at his smiling face as he rode off to do as he'd been bid.
He had never considered himself a prince, not in the same way that his nephews or even his brother Kevan did. A title meant little to Gerion other than it was one that had been passed down to his daughter along with his name. The advantages of being a king allowed for his brother to do as he'd asked him, even if it had cost Gerion much in the way of his future. There was to be no traveling until Joy came of age, no great adventures. His job was to do as all Lannisters and to enhance the family's name and holdings. Hence this folly, he thought bitterly.
Gerion was no craven and he'd even enjoyed listening to the plans that Tywin had come up with over the years. Plans that would see their House rule over not just one kingdom but all seven, plans that should have been abandoned the moment a dragon arrived in Westeros. It was not his place to tell his brother what to do, however. Not his words that would be listened to even if it was. The only person who could get Tywin Lannister to change his mind when it was set was long since gone and so like a good little brother, he sat, accepted, and now sought to carry out this fool's errand.
'Less foolish with the Dragonknight far from these shores' he heard the voice in his head say.
Gerion had listened when Tyrion spoke. His brother may have no time for his youngest son, but Gerion always had. As had Genna. They had seen the intelligence that Tyrion possessed and along with his wit and ability to make dull situations far more interesting, they were traits that marked Tyrion as being far more than his size. In his own way, Tyrion was as worthy a son as Jaime was, though Tywin would never see that when he looked at his son.
It was because of how highly he thought of his nephew that he'd taken his words to heart. While Tyrion had agreed there was an advantage to be had in making their move now, he'd not agreed with his father's assertion of what the Dragonknight would do upon his return. Should they manage to take down a dragon or to either capture or kill Rhaenys Targaryen, then they'd bring the Empire's wrath down upon them. Yet it wasn't their wrath that Tyrion spoke of and which gave Gerion shivers in the night.
"That man defied his father, Gerion. He did so for love by all accounts. Imagine what he'll do should we put his love in harm."
"We could capture her, take her hostage. Surely it'd be enough to allow us to negotiate with the Empire. Her release for them leaving Westeros to its own devices."
"Mayhap, but I doubt the Dragonknight will accept any terms. I fear that this ends with our House in flames and not even the Rock will be enough to shelter us from a dragon's wroth."
He had wanted to put it down to worry and doubt. To explain it all away by the fact that Tyrion knew little of war. Yet to his dismay, Gerion found he could not. Instead, he'd done his best to bury it deep within himself and to keep up a brave face as they marched. Only allowing it out when he was alone with his thoughts or laying in his bed. Tonight for some reason it had come upon him earlier than ever and he knew not why that was.
With the camp set up, he ate with the men and soon enough was laughing and japing along with them. Flement proved himself a good mummer as he spoke of how Mace Tyrell and Gwayne Gardener would look when they saw the army that marched against them. That he made no mention of Rhaenys Targaryen or her dragon only helping keep the men's moods light. Gerion eventually made his way to his bed early where he found his dreams full of fire and men's screams. He woke in a cold sweat and couldn't eat his morning meal to break his fast.
Later as they marched, he again felt a shiver go down his spine. Looking around him, he could see there was little cover and it concerned him greatly. When he saw it in the sky, he could not tell. It was after midday, on that much he was clear, and yet soon it mattered not. The dragon had found them and as he ordered arrows to be fired and the scorpions made ready, it roared loudly and drowned out his words. Black as the night's sky and looming large over their heads, Gerion was not the only man among them to lose his discipline when it flew towards them. In some ways, it helped save his life the first time it did so.
"MAKE FOR COVER! MAKE FOR COVER!"
The shouts were soon replaced by screams as a wave of fire swept over the men making them. Though he was riding hard in search of someplace where the dragon's flames would be rendered useless, his eyes took in the devastation around him as he did so. Again and again, the dragon dropped lower and loosed its flames, and any in their path was simply blown away and turned to ash. Those lucky enough to be in the dragon's direct path that was. For Gerion had found that there was something much worse than being caught in the full wave of the dragon's flames. Being caught only partly by them.
Men screamed as they burned. Others rolled on the ground as they tried to put out the flames that had taken their hair from their heads and covered their backs and chests. While others ran or rode in any direction that took them out of the dragon's path. Only to find that there were few directions that did so.
How many passes it took to break his army, Gerion knew not. Broken they were though and as the dragon flew over them one last time, Gerion awaited the fiery death that was soon to be his. Eyes closed, he thought of his daughter and of her smile and laughter. It comforted him little to do so. Gerion doubted that the dragons would be satisfied with his, Tywin's, Kevan, Tyrion and Jaime's deaths. They'd seek their entire House to know the flames as Tyrion had suggested and he couldn't bear to think of Joy being burned alive. There was little he could do, however, for his time was now upon him. So as the dragon roared even more loudly, somehow he found the courage to face his death with his eyes open.
It was not to be. Today was not his day to die and he looked on in relief as the black dragon flew away from them rather than toward them. Around him, there were men like him who hadn't felt the lick of the dragon's flames, though there were far more who had. His army was broken and given the direction the dragon flew in, his nephew would soon know the truth of the war they'd brought down upon themselves. There was nothing he could do for Jaime. Nor for his brothers or his other nephew. Looking around at his men, there was little he could do for them either.
Riding fast from the field and heading west, Gerion resolved himself to do the one thing any father should. A father's job was to protect their child and so it was to Joy and Casterly Rock he rode. He prayed to any god that would listen that he'd make it there before the dragons flew and loosed their flames upon it.
The Princess's Battle, the Reach 301 AC.
Jaime Lannister.
They had almost reached it when they saw the army in front of them. Another day or two of marching and Highgarden would have been in sight. To some who rode with him, it was disappointment that marred their features. Yet Jaime wore an eager smile as he, Addam Marbrand, and the Strongboar rode out to parley. They soon face to face with Ser Garlan Tyrell, a Fossoway of some sort, and some other men that Jaime cared not about.
He offered the terms that would cause the most insult and laughed when mention of a dragon was made. There were no dragons in sight and should Rhaenys Targaryen be leading these men, then she'd have led the parley and not Garlan Tyrell. No, the dragon was no doubt where his father was and while that gave him some pause and made him worry for his father, brother, and uncle, it made his task here easier.
Riding back from the parley, Jaime felt as confident as he had when he'd ambushed Rickard Stark. He had the numbers, the men, and those lined up against him were poorer by every measure. Still, he felt the need to impress upon his men that Garlan Tyrell was to be his and his alone. He wished to test his blade here today and while cutting down men would win him much glory, cutting down the Gallant would be a tale worthy of song.
"You truly believe there is no dragon, my prince?" Addam asked as they reached their own lines once more.
"We know there is a dragon, Addam. Yet not one here. Fortunately for us, it's my father who'll have to deal with a dragon's rage here today. Our task is as it has always been. Take Highgarden and the hostages that will win us this war." Jaime said to nods of agreement.
Looking down at his lines, he reached into his pack and took out the Myrish Eye before turning to look back at how the Reach had lined up their own forces. There had been no change to their formation at all and it pleased him greatly. The ground they were to fight on was flat and there was nowhere that men could be hidden or no time for caltrops and other obstacles to be placed in their way. A true cavalry charge would break the army they faced, yet Jaime remained cautious.
"Have some men ride around our right, Addam, have them each carry an archer with them with orders to take down the Reach's archers when they move forward to stop our charge."
"At once my prince."
"Lyle."
"My prince." the Strongboar replied.
"You and I will lead the cavalry charge, break through their lines, Lyle."
"As you command my prince."
"Lord Serret."
"My prince."
"The infantry is yours."
With his orders given, Jaime bid Honor to ride down the ranks in front of his men. His long golden hair flowed in the wind and when he unsheathed Brightroar, the men cheered loudly.
"Men of the West, we come here today to dine on Reachmens' blood. To show them who rules for true. Today we roar loudly. For King Tywin and the Westerlands."
"For King Tywin."
"The West."
"Prince Jaime."
Riding back to his position, Jaime put his helm on his head and with a nod, the horns began to blow. The horses moved out in a trot before soon speeding up to a gallop. By the time they reached the middle of the field, they were in full charge and it was then that the arrows began to fly in the sky. Some men fell when their horses were hit, yet soon enough their own arrows were being fired. Both from behind their charge and from where he'd bid Addam to send their riders.
It was a wondrous sight to behold. Their arrows flew from the right of the field and one by one the Reach's archers began to fall or retreat. When he heard the horns ring out, Jaime smiled under his helm, the true battle was about to begin. Lowering his lance, eyes focussed only on what was in front of him, he saw the horses as they rode towards him and felt his heart race at the sheer exhilaration of it all. This. This was what he was born to do. This was his destiny. Today was his day.
Feeling the first hit of the lance and watching as the man he'd taken from his horse was crushed under the hooves of his cavalry was as inevitable as the death of the second man who fell to him. Jaime had no equal in the joust and here today, he proved it true once again. Eventually, though all good things must come to an end and his lance broke after taking five men from their horses. Those who faced him were soon to find that Jaime was even more lethal with a sword in his hand as he unsheathed Brightroar and went about his work with ruthless efficiency.
To his surprise, the Reach's lines held and their charge faltered somewhat. Jaime then ordered his men to reform and charge again. His infantry had taken to the field far too soon and so as he reformed their charge, he sent riders with orders for them to retreat and hold their position. When this battle was won he'd give Lord Serret a public dressing down. Should the man have managed not to get himself killed that was. He'd risked too much too soon and only that the Reach's own cavalry was busy trying to repel Jaime's attack, or they'd have cut through his lines like a knife through butter.
"Charge!" he shouted once he was ready and the attack began anew.
He saw him as he rode and felt his glory slipping away from him. Turning his horse, he began to cut through men so as to reach Garlan Tyrell. Jaime was relieved that the man stood still when he finally made it to him. Garlan had been unhorsed and Jaime could easily just ride towards him and cut him down where he stood. There would be some, including Ser Benedict Bloom his old Master of Arms, who'd demand it of him. But there was no glory in that and despite it not being something that anyone would advise, Jaime dismounted his own horse forcing those with him to do likewise.
"Tyrell," he shouted as Garlan looked his way.
"Lannister," Garlan responded and Jaime moved his hands to tell those with him that this was his fight and his fight alone.
"I'll send you to the seven hells, Lannister."
"No, Tyrell, not this day."
While Brightroar was a masterful blade made out of the finest Valyrian Steel, Ser Garlan wielded a simple castle-forged one. It was of decent quality but like the man who wielded it, it was not of the same level as Jaime's own sword or Jaime himself. Soon the dance began and Garlan showed he was a decent swordsman. Mayhap even the best that Jaime had faced until now. Jaime though fought well within himself and almost toyed with the man as he did so.
He easily dodged and parried and had more than one chance to end the fight. Though he wished to drag it out a bit longer. Just as he had done, Garlan too bid men to let them fight and not interfere. After a flurry of blows that forced Garlan backward, Jaime readied to deliver the killing blow only to have his glory stolen from him.
"What the fuck did you just do?" he shouted at one of his guards, the man's lance protruding from the back of Garlan's leg.
"My prince I…."
Anger almost took a hold of him and it took all he had not to end the man right there. Looking to Garlan, he instead readied to take him from this world. It was not the clean victory he'd wished for, but it was a victory all the same. Not to mention that once the Reachmen saw that their commander was dead, it would break the spirits of those they fought against.
"Any last words, Tyrell?" Jaime asked as the sounds of fighting around him grew louder.
To his credit, Garlan spoke none and accepted his fate. Jaime raised Brightroar and readied to strike the blow, only for its descent to be stopped in mid-air. He looked at the dark-skinned shaven-headed man who'd blocked his blow. The spear in his hand and shield on his arm along with his armor marked him as not from these shores. It took Jaime a moment to realize who it was he was facing and his smile soon reappeared on his face.
"Very well, Shall We?" he asked as he moved Brightroar back and readied to fight anew.
"Valar Morghullis." Aemon Targaryen's sworn shield said as Garlan was helped away.
The Conquest of Westeros LIII
Princesses of the Empire.
While it was through its male line that most believed the Empire drew its strength, only a fool would look upon the princesses of the House of the Dragon and think them lesser. Some wrote their legends large and enhanced them upon ascending to the role of Empress while others bore and carried the rank of Princess for all their lives, their legends no less storied because of it.
From Princess Alyssa who rode the fired Red queen Meleys to Princess Gael who was her mother's strength after the loss of her sisters. Princess Shiera whose beauty enflamed men's hearts like no other to Princess Baela and Rhaena the daughters of the Rogue Prince and who were just as feared atop their dragons as their father at times. Few had ever named Princess Daenerys as a woman who'd prove herself more than for her looks. Fewer had thought she'd have amounted to more than a mere footnote in the annals of House Targaryen history. A forgotten princess who mayhap would birth a son or daughter who'd achieve more than she and while in some ways the latter proved somewhat true, it very much did not at the same time.
For in war and later in peace, Princess Daenerys Targaryen along with her dragon Nightwing proved to be far more than she may have looked at first sight. Resolved, resolute, ruthless when needed, the princess was all of these things and yet she was compassionate, caring, and considerate when needed to. Queen Rhaenys once told a tale of how many years before, the Dragonknight had named his aunt Daenerys as the true terror and wonder of the Empire and in Westeros and later Essos, his words were proved very true.
A History of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.
Dany.
She shook a little as she flew back to where Garlan, Torgho Nudho, and the rest of their army were. How many lives she'd taken today, she knew not. Only that when she'd bid Nightwing let loose her flames, her dragon had responded immediately. The army that was marching towards Highgarden was defeated and broken, or one of them was at least. It was now time to make sure the other was too. So she bid Nightwing to fly even faster and readied herself to do what she must.
Reaching behind her, Dany took her water pouch and drank down a large swallow from it. They were flying fast over the ground beneath them and yet she had no need to hold onto the reins or to the saddle's horn. For years she'd flown on Nightwing's back and at times done so with her hands outstretched. The feel of the wind as it hit her and moved her on her saddle was something she'd always welcomed and though she kept her hands closer to her body this time, she welcomed this wind all the same.
Despite the need to hurry back and knowing that she and Nightwing would be fighting an even bigger and more true fight this time, Dany bid her dragon to land when she saw the herd of aurochs. Without the need for her to tell Nightwing to do so, a wave of flame caught two of the slower beasts, and soon enough her dragon was eating its meal happily. From there it was to the stream that flowed nearby so that she could fill her water pouch and Nightwing could drink her fill and once they'd both done so, it was back to the skies once more.
Dany felt it long before she reached the field of battle. Some second sense told her that the battle had already begun and she cursed herself for her delay. Bidding Nightwing to fly high in the sky, she looked down at the battle beneath her. The two forces were locked together, though both had reserves and men who'd not yet been called to fight. So it was to those that Dany's attention soon focussed upon.
"Zirȳ Nightwing, naejot zirȳ istiti jikagon." (Them Nightwing, to them we must go.) she said directing the black dragon to the infantry that was regrouping some distance from the fight.
Her dragon needed no further order and almost as soon as the words came from her mouth, they were flying over the Lannister infantry and reserves. As she'd seen with the army they'd just broken, the men beneath them panicked and tried to escape. Just as it had been with the others, they'd find no escape until Dany and Nightwing wished them to.
"Dracarys," she said as they flew a little lower.
The flames came in just as fierce a fashion as they had earlier that day. There was no letup in their ferocity or their frequency. Each time she bid Nightwing to loose them, loose them she did. With the reserves and infantry dealt with it, it was to the cavalry and the battle that was raging deeper into the field that Dany now turned her attention to. With a loud roar, Nightwing announced her presence to any who'd not already seen her and it had the desired effect.
As had any of those who'd seen the black dragon today, those wearing Lannister colors now worried far more about Nightwing's flames than they did anything else. They broke off from the fights they were engaged in and Dany allowed them to put some distance between them and the Reachmen before she bid Nightwing loose her flames once more. Three passes were all it took. The Lannister army was as broken and defeated as the one she'd faced earlier that day. With a loud roar of victory, their own reserves and infantry took to the field and the day was won.
Were she Aemon then she'd probably have flown after those who now raced away from the field of fire beneath her. She'd have ended them all without a second thought, mayhap. Dany though was not her nephew and besides, her day was probably not truly done as of yet. She'd seek out Ser Garlan and the other commanders, make sure that they had truly won the comprehensive victory she believed they had, and then she and Torgho Nudho would fly to where Rhaenys was. One more army would feel their flames before they rested.
"Kirimvose Nightwing, kirimvose ao sīr olvie." (Thank you Nightwing, Thank you so much) she said as she praised her dragon for all she'd done.
Garlan Tyrell.
He should be dead, he should be dead and the battle should be lost. They'd been overwhelmed by the numbers they faced and yet had held firm. Garlan looked to the sky as much as he did the field. Hold on for a little longer the voice in his head had shouted to him. The princess and her dragon would come, all they needed to was not break before she did so. So they'd fought with all they had only to find it was not to be enough. They would lose and his only true hope had been that the princess would arrive back before the Lannisters reached Highgarden itself.
Still, he'd fought on as had his men and none had made it easy for the Lannisters to break through completely. That was when he saw him come his way. Jaime Lannister had been adorned with the very gold that had made his House so wealthy. He cut down men as if they were nothing and when his eyes locked on Garlan's own, Garlan had known the fight would come down to them both. He'd readied himself for it, cleared the ground so it could be fought, and then he'd waited.
It soon became clear it was not a fight he'd win and when he felt the pain in his leg, he awaited the killing blow. That he'd been sneak attacked gave him little comfort. Inevitable death had a way of making you care not that those you'd faced had shown no honor. Not even hearing Jaime Lannister berate the man who'd attacked Garlan had brought him any comfort. Resolved and resolute, Garlan simply waited for the Prince of Casterly Rock to shut up and take him from this world. Only for the blow to never come.
"Take him from here." a voice called out and Garlan looked to see Torgho Nudho had blocked the blow that would have ended him.
"No, we stay," he called out painfully.
"GO NOW!" Torgho Nudho shouted as he and Jaime Lannister began their own fight and before Garlan could argue any further, he was being carried from the field.
To his relief and annoyance, he wasn't carried far enough so that the fight was not still in his sights. One of his men worked on the wound in his leg and had stopped the bleeding, thank the gods. Garlan stupidly tried to rise to his feet only to fall to the ground in a heap. Then he heard it and the cheers of his men as the black dragon flew over their heads. Injured, bloodied, and in pain, Garlan smiled a true smile when he saw first the dragon and then the flames it let down upon the Lannister lines.
The sight of the princess upon its back as she single-handedly ended the battle was a majestic one. Soon enough the black dragon had dealt with the Lannister reserves and infantry. It then turned its attention to the cavalry and they fared no better than their brothers-in-arms had. Garlan wished to look just at the black dragon as it went about its deadly business but he remembered that Torgho Nudho was out there facing off against Jaime Lannister. Turning his attention to their fight, he looked upon two men who were well beyond his own skills.
Garlan had faced the Dragonknight in a spar and though he believed the king had fought well within himself, he'd shown enough for Garlan to name him the best sword he'd seen. Apparently, Ser Arthur was just as good if not better, something Garlan could barely believe. If so, then he'd name Jaime Lannister as close to them both if not their equal. Torgho Nudho however was easily matching him blow for blow. How he moved his spear was almost poetic and whether or not Jaime had never faced off against a man who wielded one or it was simply the skills that Torgho Nudho possessed, the match was far more even than Garlan's own had been.
"He's got him."
"By the gods, he's fast."
"We're going to kill or capture Tywin Lannister's golden heir."
Around him, his men's voices told the tale of their own confidence in the outcome. Garlan wasn't as confident as they were, but the more the fight went on, the more he began to be. Torgho Nudho dodged out of the way of Jaime Lannister's strikes while at the same time, his spear landed some of its own. Garlan was too far to see if it truly found purchase or not, but at one point the swore he heard a loud cry of pain that came from Jaime Lannister and not from the Unsullied warrior.
The princess and her dragon had left the field and other than wounded or men retreating, it was now bereft of life. How many men had lost their lives here today, he knew not, but looking to Jaime Lannister and Torgho Nudho, he wagered it would be one more before the day was truly done. Dodge, move, strike, block with his shield, and repeat. Watching the Unsullied was watching a man who knew his craft as well as he knew the lines on his face. Jaime Lannister was proving that he too was incredibly skilled as he began to grow more comfortable with facing off against a spear.
"BACK OFF OR I'll TAKE YOUR FUCKING HEADS MYSELF!" Jaime shouted out when some of his men moved to offer him aid, a simple wave of Torgho Nudho's hand enough to repeat the same message to Garlan's own who had moved closer to the fight.
Unlike his own fight, this one would be settled honorably. Garlan found himself somewhat disappointed by that. While he was sure now that he'd have lost even had there been no interference in his fight with Jaime Lannister, a part of him still wished to know for true. Even if the likeliest outcome would have been his death. It made him look at this fight with an even keener eye and then to his horror, he saw the moment it was lost.
Jaime Lannister wielded Valyrian Steel and while thus far Torgho Nudho had answered each strike with the steel tip of his spear, Jaime had learned much during the fight. Feigning another attack, this time he changed his sword's target in mid-air and brought the blade crashing down on the shaft rather than the tip of the spear. The wood broke in two and it left Torgho Nudho holding only a broken half of a spear shaft in his hand. Blocking the blow that came at him with his shield a moment later, Torgho Nudho pulled out a short sword and though he fought valiantly, the reach advantage that Jaime Lannister possessed soon began to pay off.
One cut, a slice to the arm that cost Torgho Nudho his shield. A slice down his chest that even Garlan winced at. All too soon one man was faltering while the other only gained in strength and confidence.
"End this, protect him," he shouted, though around him men looked on unable to do anything more than that as the death blow was finally struck and Torgho Nudho fell to the ground.
Whether it was some inner honor that Jaime Lannister possessed or mayhap more likely the knowledge that there were now more of Garlan's men close by than his own, there was no desecration of the corpse. Garlan, though he liked the man not, gave Jaime Lannister the benefit of the doubt and said he at least respected his opponent enough to accept the victory as enough. Ordering men to kill or capture the Lannister prince regardless, Garlan looked on as a white horse was provided to Jaime and he and his men rode away. Though still pained and finally feeling both the fatigue and blood loss, he ordered his men to take him to where Torgho Nudho lay dead.
"See he's treated honorably and carried back to our lines with respect. He saved my life and that's not something I can now pay him back for." Garlan said sadly as he looked down at the fallen man.
The princess would be devastated and yet it was not her that was at the forefront of Garlan's mind as he, his men, and Torgho Nudho were taken back to his army. Instead, it was the Dragonknight and Jaime Lannister he thought about and the fight that would one day inevitably come to pass.
The Battle of the Dragon Queen, the Reach 301 AC.
Ser Barristan Selmy.
Arrows filled the sky and yet none hit home. Atop the hill, his men were lined up and ready to form a shield wall at his order. Further down the line, Ser Arthur took charge of the other half of their standing army. Archers and Infantry they'd lead both while Lord Gwayne had his Goodbrother would lead the cavalry. Barristan had expected that it would be Arthur or himself who'd be charged with doing so, although politics as always played its part. Taking orders from the Queen was one thing for the Warden of the South, doing so from him and Arthur was quite another.
Still, they had horses in reserve and his own stallion was no more than two hundred years from where Barristan stood, just in case he was needed to ride today. He had no need to look off in the distance to know that Ser Arthur too was ready to take command of their cavalry should the need arise. Far sooner than he had expected, the Lannister Cavalry came into view. Barristan looked at them in the distance and did so with a disbelieving eye. It was too soon, the conditions were not yet right for a cavalry charge and yet it seemed as if they were soon to face one.
Wondering why the Old Lion would commit to such folly, he felt the shiver go down his spine and looked to his archers. They'd strayed too far from the lines in an effort to get more distance and actually hit their targets. To his horror, arrows soon flew at the archers themselves. These came from the side and so he led men with shields covering their heads to rescue however many of his archers as he could. It was as he was helping them back to his lines that the horns blew and the cavalry charge commenced.
"Shield Wall!"
"Shield Wall!"
He shouted loudly and down the line men moved their shields in front of them. They'd lost almost half their archers and those they'd not were shaken or injured. Still, they'd need to fight or they'd find that they'd been only spared a little longer and not for true.
"ARCHERS MAKE READY!"
Grabbing one of the men who'd not answered his order, Barristan shook some sense into him.
"Ready you bow or ready yourself to face your gods, lad. The fight is upon us."
Fewer though they were and shaken they may be, but soon enough the archers formed up. Then they, the men in the shield wall and even their own cavalry who were readying their own charge began to cheer as the dragon flew over their heads.
It was as it had been the first time he'd seen it, a wondrous sight. The one that came next was more a terrible one, though Barristan took some comfort in the fact it was their enemies who faced the dragon's flames and not themselves. Enough men would die here today as it was. Without the dragon leading them into the battle that number would contain far too many of their own. So despite the horror of seeing men burn alive, Barristan breathed in relief at the sight.
Horns rang out and then their own cavalry took to the field. Lord Gwayne looked ever the cocky young man as he led them out. Though compared to the young Tyrell, he looked actually modest. The charge was soon in full effect and so Barristan looked out at the battlefield once more. Off far in the distance, the dragon was laying down its flames on Tywin's lines. In the middle of the field men on horseback fought against other men as lances and swords were brought to bear. At the moment they held the advantage and there was little need for him or his men to do anything but wait. Something that all men in battle hated doing and Barristan himself was no exception.
When he heard the sound, he knew not what it was. Louder than any roar and somewhat shrill, at first he believed it to be some unknown weapon. It took him a few moments to realize that it was the dragon who was making it and searching it out in the sky, he liked not what he saw. Usually, Meraxes glided through the air almost effortlessly. Right now it was almost fighting with itself as it tried to right itself for some reason.
Had it been hurt?
Could it be hurt?
What would they do if it had been?
Was the queen safe?
The questions fought for prominence in his mind and he had no answer to any of them. Looking to the field he saw the tide was beginning to turn against them. With the dragon no longer laying down its flames and with it not having done as much damage to the Lannister ranks as they'd all hoped, the fight they were engaged in had suddenly become a far different one. They were outnumbered and the Old Lion now held the advantage. Something that he was now seeking to press home.
"Make Ready!"
"Form Up."
"HOLD THE LINE!" Barristan shouted as the true battle readied to begin.
Gwayne Gardener.
All along the march, he'd heard tales of battles fought, victories won and glory earned. Gwayne had sat and spoken much to Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur. He'd listened as the queen regaled them with tales of the Dragonknight's battles in Essos or other tales of her family's great victories over the years. Through it all, he and Loras had listened and dreamt of their own glory. He'd imagined sitting in Highgarden's Great Hall as he told tales to his wife and their future children. In his mind's eye, he reveled in the looks that Margaery aimed his way and that his lords, knights, and men at arms shared with him as he told his tales.
Riding out to parley with Tywin Lannister, Gwayne found himself stewing in his anger. Even more so once he'd returned from doing so. The sheer nerve of this old man to come into his lands and make demands. This man who his father had wished to be named as his Goodgrandfather. How the queen accepted his insults, Gwayne knew not. Yet Rhaenys sat through them all regally and it was that and that alone which kept him from losing his composure. There at least.
"Who does he think he is."
"What has that old fool ever accomplished."
"By the gods I hope it's my sword he falls under."
Loras had allowed him to rant and only insisted that he did so far from the queen's sight. His Goodbrother seemed to be worried far more about Gwayne's reputation than he himself did. Once it was out of his system, Gwayne made his way to the Queen and Sers Arthur and Barristan where they went over their final plans. From there it was to his horse and his men and soon enough they were riding out into the field of battle itself.
Lance in hand, helm shut, eyes were focussed only on the men in front of him, Gwayne almost felt as if he was back in Highgarden and running a tilt against Loras. As his lance hit home and the man he faced fell dead to the ground, he thanked the gods he was not. Loras was always the better lance and now with no target in front of him, Gwayne looked to see his Goodbrother prove it once more. The poor fool Loras faced had no chance and was taken from his horse as easily as any Gwayne had ever seen. Quickly enough another rider moved Gwayne's way and again the man found that his lance work was no match for Gwayne's own.
All too soon, it was with a sword in hand that he rode while Loras still wielded his lance as if it was an extension of his arm. Ahead of them all, the dragon laid down its flames, and Gwayne could only be thankful that they'd picked the right side. It had not been something he'd at first wished to do. Instead, his pride almost demanded that he fight against the dragons. Margaery though had proved herself far cleverer than he and as he swung his sword and took another man from this world, it was with thoughts of his wife that he did so.
When he heard the loud shrill call and noticed men looking to the sky, he knew not. Nor did he truly have a chance to do so himself. More men rode their way and for the first time, Gwayne began to worry about how this day would end. Turning to see where Loras was, he was much relieved to see him close by. Though his relief lasted only a short time.
"What the hell is that?" he gasped as the giant of a man cut through his men as if they were nothing.
Atop a horse that dwarfed his own, the man must have been twice Gwayne's size at least. In his hand, he bore a huge Greatsword which he swung one-handed. Any man unlucky enough to be in its path was almost cut in two by the force of the blow that the giant caught them with. Lance or sword, it mattered not. The Greatsword smashed through their defenses and their armor. Blood stained its blade and none could slow the giant's progress.
It was Loras who somewhat did so. His Goodbrother aimed his lance, not at the giant, but at his horse and Gwayne looked on as it unhorsed him. Men swarmed him the moment he hit the ground and to Gwayne's dismay, they had simply run to their deaths. The giant rose like the titan of Braavos that he'd heard Queen Rhaenys speak of. He stood with sword in hand and cut down any who moved too close to him. Arrows, crossbow bolts, swords, maces, morningstars, and lances all bounced harmlessly off his heavy plate armor.
Looking at the bodies that piled up around him, Gwayne was torn between seeking an easier opponent or helping his men take this monster down. Seeing Loras move to him, it was that which made his choice for him. Together with his Goodbrother, they and five other men now faced off against the giant. One by one, the other men fell and when Loras moved close and struck his sword at the giant it was a hard kick he was met with. Gwayne could barely believe the sight he was now witnessing. Loras flew through the air and landed in a heap and though he wished to go and check on him, he could not for the giant now moved his way.
"GARDENER!" the giant bellowed and Gwayne soon found himself in a fight for his life.
More than once his sword hit home and yet it stopped the giant not. The Greatsword was swung at him with great power and far more speed than should be possible. Dodging the strikes, deflecting them when he couldn't do so, aiming his own in return, was this a fight against any other man then it would be one that Gwayne would already have won. Yet nothing he did had any effect on the giant whatsoever and after he dodged yet another heavy blow, he felt the searing pain in his arm as it was broken and his sword fell to the ground.
A simple clubbing of his sword arm had rendered it useless. With his off hand, he reached for a dagger and then felt himself be lifted from the ground. His helm was knocked from his head and through the slit in the giant's own helm, he looked into a set of unfeeling dark eyes. Gwayne tried to stab at them only to watch as his knife too was knocked from his hand with barely any effort. Then he felt the pain as hands grabbed his head and began to squeeze.
"Margaery." he gasped as the pain became unbearable and his skull was crushed between two unyielding hands, his glory as lost to him as his life now was.
Rhaenys.
She'd swallowed the insults and Tywin was lucky he'd spoken them to her and her alone. Had Aemon been here then there would be no stopping the rage he'd unleash on these men before the day was won. Rhaenys wished to win, to break the army against her, and end this war. Yet unlike how her husband would be if his anger was raised, she sought not to take life just for the sake of it. The only messages she wished to send were that to rise against them was folly and that they would always come to their allies' aid. Aemon after hearing Tywin speak to her so would wish another message to be sent, a message wroth with fire and blood.
Both would be seen here today regardless. Her allies demanded it of her. Meraxes wished it of her and so once the parley was over and their battle plans were confirmed, Rhaenys took to the sky. She flew over the charging cavalry, though a part of her wished to tell Meraxes to let loose her flames upon them. Instead, it was to the men further back that she bid her dragon to take her. Once she reached them, then and only then did she give her dragon the order to see them burn.
"Dracarys," she called out more firmly than she expected.
Meraxes answered immediately, her flames loosed down on the Lannister lines and it was a devastating thing to behold. Men burned and Rhaenys tried not to let their screams reach her as they did so. One pass, then another, and then she readied to bring the flames to those who'd already taken to the field. The angered roar of her dragon caught her somewhat by surprise. As did the way Meraxes seemed to turn in mid-air, almost causing Rhaenys to slide sideways in her saddle.
Arrows.
Arrows and Scorpion Bolts.
She felt the first of them as they bounced harmlessly against Meraxes scales. Then she looked on in surprise at the second of them as they seemed to miss the dragon by some distance. It took her a moment to realize why that was and the thought that came to her was not one she was prepared for.
'They're aiming at me.'
Beneath her, Meraxes raged and wished to let loose her flames on all of them. Rhaenys bid her dragon to fly higher and out of range. The need to see where the threat came from and then deal with it was all she could think of for now. It was then that she felt it, the pain was unlike any she'd ever known. Reaching down to her leg she saw the bolt as it protruded from her thigh and the blood that seemed to spurt out from the wound.
"How?" she said as she looked at her armor where it had been pierced.
The world around her began to dim as her vision blurred. Her leg throbbed and the pain was almost unbearable. Grabbing a handkerchief that she'd been gifted by Aemon some time before, she pressed it against her wound before she fell forward against Meraxes' neck.
"Dracarys," she called out, though whether or not Meraxes loosed her flames was unknown to her.
How long she passed out for she knew not. What time she awoke or where she was when she did so, was at first beyond her ability to ascertain. She was outdoors, the sun shined in the sky and men loomed over her. Reaching for the knife she had, her hand was soon being held and she looked up to see silver hair and violet eyes looking down at her.
"Father?" she asked her voice hoarse.
"No, Rhae, it's me," Dany responded worriedly.
"I…Where…the battle?" she said as she began to move or tried to at least.
"Rest, Rhae. Aemon and the Blood Wyrm are dealing with the Lannisters." Dany said as Rhaenys closed her eyes once more.
She dreamt of him and his kisses and touches. His whispered words as he spoke softly to her. When she awoke it was to see him looming over her and to feel his kiss for true. Few words were spoken and she rested when he told her to. His promises that all was well and she needed to rest for now were enough to calm her worries. As for the battle that had been fought, she had no need to ask who had won, Aemon's presence was enough to tell her its outcome.
Tywin.
He'd taken the measure of this so-called queen and found her wanting. So much so that he sat with almost a smile on his face as he watched the battle begin. Seeing the dragon when it came into view did give him some pause. As did seeing the flames it loosed upon his men. Tyrion had been right, which Tywin was loathed to admit. A dragon was a fierce and dangerous thing and no army could truly stand against it. Thankfully, however, this dragon was not the Blood Wyrm and its rider was not the Dragonknight. Instead, it was a woman and a battlefield was no place for even a woman who named herself a queen.
Tywin shouted out his orders. The plan he'd made in the event that Tyrion was proved more right than he was now the one his men adopted. Scorpion Bolts and Arrows, though neither were to be aimed at the dragon but its rider. He looked on as the sky filled with arrows and snarled as the dragon turned in mid-air and let them bounce off its belly. The Scorpion Bolts fared little better and so with a raise of his hand, he bid the crossbowmen to fire. Almost all of them flew harmlessly and missed their target. Some fell short while others flew by and missed by some distance. One of them though did hit home and the sound of the dragon's lament was one that Tywin relished.
He, his men, and Tyrion off to his right, all looked to the sky as the dragon began to twist and turn as if it had been it that was hit and not the woman upon its back. Tywin watched as it eventually righted itself and flew from the field. Once it did, he gave the order and sent his reserves in. The Battle was now one that was to be fought on his terms and one whose result was as inevitable as he'd always believed it to be.
"No Quarter," he shouted to the last of his lords and knights and as one they charged down into the field to overwhelm their enemies' lines.
Taking his Myrish Eye from his saddle, he looked out to see that Kevan's cavalry charge had broken the pitiful response from Gwayne Gardener's own. Looking over the field he saw Ser Daven's men engaged in battle with the Reach's infantry and he was pleased to see the white-cloaked figures of Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy were no longer standing idly by. The Mountain was inflecting his own particular style of warfare on any fool enough to be in his path and many men would fall to his sword before the day was done.
"An excellent victory, my king." one of his men said and yet Tywin had already turned from him upon seeing Tyrion ride his way.
Hoping for news of Jaime or Gerion, he for once welcomed seeing his dwarf of a son. Though quickly it became clear he had news of neither.
"Well done, father." Tyrion said and Tywin barely acknowledged him "Is the queen dead?"
"What queen?" he said dismissively.
The loon on Tyrion's face changed so abruptly that Tywin almost snapped at his son. Only that it was not him that Tyrion was looking at or he would have done so. Instead, it was behind him and as he turned to see what it was, Tywin's own expression changed just as quickly.
"The Blood Wyrm, father," Tyrion said as the red dragon loosed a roar that shook the very ground beneath them.
Tywin called for arrows to be fought, Scorpion Bolts to be fired and the crossbowmen to make ready. Yet barely had the words left his mouth when he felt the wave of heat as the Blood Wyrm's flames took each of those groups of men from this world. He felt the shade of its shadow as it flew over his head and then he looked on helplessly as his cavalry, his infantry, his reserves, and mayhap even his kin were taken from the world just as easily.
Wave upon wave of fiery death was unleashed upon his men. By good fortune, the gods' own favor, or mayhap that Aemon Targaryen was simply that practiced, not a single one of those flames hit anyone but men wearing the colors of the West. His own men in their crimson and gold seemed to bear the brunt of the Blood Wyrm's anger. Or was it the anger of its rider that Tywin was watching be unleashed?
A loud roar rang out and the Blood Wyrm now flew his way. Tywin turned his horse quickly and rode from the field with all the speed he could manage. Few men kept pace with him and whether or not Tyrion was one of them, he knew not. He felt the heat from the flames and was he not wearing his helm then he'd have wagered his whiskers would have been singed at least. Behind him, men screamed and yet Tywin rode and did not look back even once.
Only when his horse couldn't run any longer did he stop and when he did he was far from the battlefield. With him were no more than twenty men and his son was not among them. What remained of his army was lost to him. His only hope now lay in Jaime and Gerion doing as he'd sent them. For the next few days, he rode by night and hid by day. His and the eyes of every single man who rode with him looked to the sky fearfully each mile they rode. The dragon never came his way, a small respite that meant little in truth. For it was only a matter of time until it did and Tywin only hoped that he made it back to the Rock and its walls melted not once he did so.
The Conquest of Westeros LIV
The Lions of Casterly Rock II.
It was cleverness and not might which won Casterly Rock for the Lions. Or so the tales would have you believe, the truth of those tales something that was kept hidden in the bowels of the Rock's vaults for many years. The truth however was a much poorer tale and involved a father with no living sons and a man who put a babe in a maiden's belly. Disgrace looming, a lord accept a marriage offer and the Casterlys soon were no more. Now married to the lord's daughter, a new name and a new House was formed and so Casterly Rock became home to the Lannisters and the formation of their House was spun anew in a far more worthy tale.
Mayhap King Tywin Lannister should have remembered the truth and not the legend when he finally chose to go to war. Or mayhap it would have made no difference at all. Hubris, overconfidence, ego, name it as what you will, the result was the same in the end. Battle plans were made and an army marched yet knew not what those in Essos had long since learned for themselves. It wasn't just the sheer power and destruction that a dragon brought to a battle, it was the speed in which it could arrive at one that made the House of the Dragon such a dangerous foe. Speed that only a fool wouldn't know would be even more brought to bear given whose tail the lions had pulled on.
All those who knew the Dragonknight and had served him over the years were fully aware of the wroth he'd lay down at Tywin Lannister's door, they knew full well that the rage he unleashed upon them on the Field of Fire was merely the beginning too. For the lions had taken much from Aemon Targaryen, they'd almost taken more than he could bear from him. In return, there could only be one response and upon hearing the words spoken loudly to one and all, I was not the only one who shared some pity for the Lions of Casterly Rock. Though the man who spoke them held none.
"All of them. Every last one of them. None of them will survive. I vow it on all I am, I vow it on Fire and Blood." Aemon the Dragonknight.
A history of the Conquest of the Dragonknight,
Marwyn the Mage.
A/N: Thanks to all who read and reviewed, I'll double up on he replies to them next chapter. Up Next: As Rhaenys recovers, Aemon learns the full extent of the losses and Highgarden comes to terms with their own. Randyll Tarly seeks sanctuary at a Sept while wounded lions return home to lick their wounds before the Dragonknight lets his rage fuel him as he makes ready to deal with all his enemies.
For those following my other fics, Am I my brother's Keeper and Dragonverse are up next.