Chapter 91: Final Countdown

"Goodnight my sweetlings." Myrcella said, leaning down to kiss her children. Edwyn gurgled, his eyes closed. Cerenna huffed and closed her eyes. Myrcella waited for a time, just watching them. They were so small, and so innocent. They would grow up knowing how loved they were, she would make sure of that.

She rose and walked to the door, stopping to nod at the two gold cloaks by the door-men from the north, who were fanatically loyal to her, Robb and their children. They knew to kill anyone who entered the room who was not her or Nannette. She stopped, turned to look at the cots where her children were, whispered a prayer then walked out.

Ser Arys accompanied her, silent as a shadow. Myrcella walked down the corridor, then nodded to the gold cloaks who were standing guard outside her room. There were two more men inside the outer chamber. Only Ser Arys was allowed to stand guard inside her actual bed chamber.

Inside her bedchamber, her ladies helped her change. Margaery and Alys Karstark were going to sleep with her tonight. The other ladies would go to their own quarters. Once she was down to her shift, she got into bed, pulled the covers up to her chin, Margaery and Alys got in with her.

"Is it done?" She whispered.

"Yes, Your Grace. It has been done." Margaery whispered on response.

"I am blowing out the candle now, Your Grace." Ser Arys said. Darkness engulfed them. Myrcella kept her eyes open for a time, allowing herself to get used to the dark.

Soft breathing to her right indicated that Alys was already asleep. Myrcella envied her that. Her mind was whirring with the possibilities. She knew that the moment had come. Varys would try something tonight. She was prepared, that was why there were guards in every level.

Myrcella wanted to ask Margaery something but decided it would be better to try and sleep, or at least feign it. She closed her eyes, and tried to level off her breathing, but found it incredibly difficult to do so. She kept thinking about what might happen if the guards in her babies' room were killed. If Varys went there first before coming here.

She would not be able to survive if her children were killed. It would be heart-rendering. She would rather die a thousand deaths than face that. How would she be able to look Robb in the face if their children died? She did not know.

A creak made her fight to keep her eyes closed. Was this the moment?

She heard a sword get drawn. Margaery took hold of her hand and squeezed. Myrcella counted down from ten.

Ten. The creaking got louder. Nine. She heard footsteps. Eight. She heard a breath come out as a gasp. Seven. Steel clashed with steel. Six. Something clattered to the floor. Five. A gasp. Four. A voice.

"It's done, Your Grace."

Myrcella opened her eyes. "Ser Arys is that you?"

"Yes, Your Grace." Came the response from her most trusted knight.

"Margaery, light a candle." Myrcella commanded. She felt her friend get off the bed, a moment later, a candle flickered to life. Myrcella blinked and then saw Ser Arys holding a powdered man, with a sword to his throat.

"Varys?" Myrcella asked softly.

The eunuch chuckled. "Guilty."

Myrcella sat up. "Why?"

She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but hearing Varys open up completely was not on that list.

"To make it easier for me to achieve my goal."

"And what was your goal?" Myrcella asked.

"First it was to have Viserys Targaryen invade with the Golden Company, to cause some minor trouble. Robert Baratheon was to lead the army out himself and die fighting against Viserys. But Viserys separated from his sister and went Gods alone knows where. Robert died in his bed, and then the war came its own way. So, I adapted. Daenerys was always meant to return. At first, she was meant to marry my sister's son, but he died as an infant, so again I adapted. But Daenerys was always the focus. She was meant to come back and claim the throne."

"So, you decided to stay on as Master of Whispers to gather information, to make sure you could pass it onto her." Myrcella surmised.

"Yes." Varys replied. "Your husband was an unexpected obstacle, as were you. But I stayed on so I could figure out as much as I could about you both. Removing you was not personal, Myrcella. It was simply politics."

"Because you felt that by removing me you would weaken Robb?" Myrcella asked.

"Exactly." Varys replied. "Anyone with eyes can see how much the boy loves you. Remove you, and he will become exactly like Prince Rhaegar when he realised that anymore children would kill his beloved Elia."

"And my children?" Myrcella asked.

"They would not have been harmed. Edwyn would have been sent to the Faith and Cerenna would have been raised at court and eventually married to a son of Daenerys Targaryen." Varys said.

"So, you did not send anyone to their rooms?" Myrcella asked.

"I did, but your men killed them." Varys said.

Myrcella glanced at Margaery, who nodded, and got up out of the bed and slipped out of the room. She would check and make sure the man was not lying.

"I must also give you credit for having Lady Allyrion use me for information and for having Lady Margaery as your own spy. Very good." Varys said. Something must have shown on her face, for the eunuch giggled. "Oh, I always knew you were watching me. But I wanted to make sure my plan was completely ready. I suppose I fell prey to my own ego. You were prepared and I was not."

"So, what am I to do with you?" Myrcella asked. She already knew what she was going to do, but she wanted to hear what the eunuch was going to say.

"You could kill me, or you could keep me around. I have much I could share." The eunuch replied.

Myrcella didn't bother replying, she waved a hand to Ser Arys, the man nodded and took the eunuch out of the bedchamber, he shut the door behind him. A moment later she heard a thud, then the door opened, and Margaery entered. "The children are safe, Your Grace." Margaery said.

Myrcella nodded and closed her eyes, letting go of a breath she had been holding.

Jaime shifted in the saddle ever so slightly. The snow covered the ground, but the infantry had cleared a path to make it easier for the horses to move. They were advancing on the Targaryen position. Ser Jon had informed the King that the Targaryens were near Blueburn. Initially the king had nodded and stuck with his plan to force the Targaryens to come to him.

But then a letter had come from Myrcella. In that letter the Queen had told the King about the attempt on her life. That Varys had confirmed that he was a Targaryen loyalist, and that had changed everything. The King had gone from wanting to wait and see to desiring to ride head first into the fight.

Jaime could understand the King's desire, for he had felt the same. It had taken Father to get the King to relax and formulate a plan. And what a plan it was. Ser Jon and Father were to lead the Westermen and a small contingent of Crownlanders out as an advanced force. The King would then come with the remaining Crowlander army, whilst Lord Edmure led the Rivermen. They would hit the Targaryen army from three sides. Front, right and left, and force them deep into the Blueburn.

Ser Jon had told the King that the Targaryens were camped to the north of the Blueburn, that the Targaryen army lacked Dothraki now, after the massacre near Tumbleton and that the Dornish were stationed at the front. The Unsullied and sellsword companies seemed to be closer to the river. Hence the plan that the King would come from the right whilst Lord Edmure would lead his army into the left. They'd force the Targaryen army back.

"My lords," The King said then, bringing Jaime to the present. "we are here. Let us kill every single last one of these fuckers."

Jaime could hear the sound of fighting in the distance. He took a breath, said a prayer, then drew his sword.

"For Westeros!"

"For The King!"

And they were off. Jaime urged his horse on, the King was leading with a quick pace. Jaime was terrified that their horses would tire out too quickly, but before he had been able to consider slowing his horse down, they were in the melee.

Sellswords were moving out to meet them. The clash of steel sent a wave of energy through him. His worries were gone and instead his anger rose to the surface. These were the fools who had decided to wage war, who had decided that they were going to cause chaos. Jaime would make them pay. He roared a challenge.

The enemy came. Jaime swung like a man possessed. His vision was blurred and yet at the same time it was clear as day. The enemy came and he swung. His sword sang. The enemy crumpled around him. None of them able to match his intensity or ferocity. He kept going.

Was this what it had been like for the King during the massacre? He felt as though people were stationary. He was moving that quickly. His sword swung and blood spurted from the enemy. These sellswords unlike the Dothraki had armour but were weak. Their armour was not suited to fighting in winter.

It had gaps and, in those gaps, Jaime was able to move and find purchase. His sword did the rest of the work. The push ensured that no enemy was in his sights for longer than a breath. That did not bother him that much, for it meant that he could get as much done as possible. Some of the enemy came back to fight, but they were swept away.

The snow played a part in all of this. The sellswords were not used to it, which showed their weakness and the poor quality of their commanders. Jaime and the men fighting alongside him had got experience fighting in the snow over the past few weeks-or days, he couldn't really remember-and as such they knew where to place their feet and where to avoid.

The King was within eyeshot, Ser Balon and Ser Garth near him. He was also fighting like a man possessed.

As he got deeper into the enemy, he could see the river, the Blueburn was starting to fill with bodies.

But he couldn't see the Targaryen girl or her guard.

That was surprising.

But not as surprising as the sudden darkness that appeared overhead.

The sky darkened, Robb looked up from the slaughter and saw the beast in the air. He squinted but could not make out a rider on the dragon. He could also just about make out the colour of the dragon. Cream coloured with gold-coloured horns. The dragon unleashed a torrent of fire in front of Robb.

He heard the screams and saw the ash that was left behind. He watched again as the dragon moved to another part of the battlefield and unleashed fire. The screams set his teeth to chattering.

That was when he heard the laughter.

He turned and saw a figure with blue hair and a trident shaped goatee standing before him.

"So," the man said in accented Westerosi. "You have seen the dragons. The harbingers of your doom. Do you still want to fight?"

He heard the screams get louder as the dragon moved closer to him. Robb looked at the sky, where the dragon was now hovering above him. The beast was staring at him. Its eyes intent. He didn't know if the beast was going to unleash fire on him or not. He decided that he didn't want to find out.

He closed his eyes and probed out.

He had been practicing this for some time. In secret. Not even Myrcella knew. At night, when he was asleep, he would see if he could reach out to the horses in the stables, if he could control them and access their thoughts. He had been able to do that. He knew he had a bond with Greywind that allowed him to see through his direwolf's eyes. But this was different.

He felt resistance. A sharp scream in his head. He winced, but he pushed. The walls were strong. They would not break easily. He took a breath, then slammed himself against the walls. He was pushed back. He took another breath and surveyed the wall.

A good general should be able to assess any obstacle and see where it was weak. That was what Robb had learned as a young boy. And that was how he had managed to win every single battle he had fought until now. He would not lose now. Not to some fucking dragon.

He surveyed the wall. It was big, golden and horned. But there was a weakness. He touched the horn and saw that it was loose. Something had happened there. He decided to extend his mind to it. A small push and the horn snapped. He heard a scream that caused him to wince and want to cover his ears, but he was in now and he had to take advantage of it.

The moment he stepped over the wall, he was attacked. A serpent was battering at him, trying to bite him. He ducked, dodged and weaved. Careful to avoid being bitten. If he was bitten, he was finished. The serpent was quick and therefore, he barely had any time to assess where it was weak.

It was simply a case of trying to avoid being bitten and moving as quick as he could to stay a foot ahead of the serpent. The beast would get tired, of that he was sure, but he needed to make sure that he didn't get tired before the beast did.

The moment came suddenly, the serpent was preparing to coil for a strike, Robb lunged. His hands grabbed onto the beast's neck. He put all of his strength into squeezing. The beast tried to wiggle out, but Robb's grip was too much. He squeezed until the serpent started to stop moving. Then as quickly as he could, he drew his dagger and chopped the beast's head off. The body writhed for a time but then stopped.

Robb blinked, he looked to the sky, but the dragon was not there. He looked down and saw the dragon lying on the snow-covered ground in front of him. Its eyes staring at him, though there was no colour in the sockets.

Jon blinked, there was a beast in the air that was blocking out the sun. The beast was breathing fire everywhere. He could hear the screams and the sobs of those who had been affected. He could also see that the enemy was cheered by this. They were fighting back harder, whereas before they had been close to breaking.

Jon was brought back to the here and now by the clang of something against his armour. He blinked and saw that someone was swinging at him. He brought his sword up to block their next swing. He pushed back and caused the person to stagger, he chased after them and found a gap and plunged his sword into their neck before pulling it out.

He watched as they fell to the ground, then he looked up. The beast was moving down the line breathing fire and burning the men. He looked around. Lord Tywin was back a bit, looking over the field. Jon tried to signal to the man. They needed to use the weapons they'd brought for this exact purpose.

Before he could get the man's attention though, another enemy came at him. This one had a spear and was vaguely familiar. The spear plunged into his horse, giving Jon just seconds to get off and avoid being crushed. He was thankful when he got off to the left and his horse landed on the right.

The spear wielder came at him again. Jon ducked and then swung. He missed, but he noticed that the man was exposed on his sides. He didn't have armour there. That was unusual, but it meant there was only one person who he could be fighting.

He turned and blocked the spear thrust. Oberyn Martell was his enemy. Jon pushed back and forced Martell to stagger back. Jon came at him then. Going left, missing, going right, clipping the man's shoulder guard. Oberyn struck back.

Jon stepped back, his feet moving on their own accord. He summoned Ghost from his endeavours elsewhere, and though he knew it was perhaps cheating, he was relieved when Ghost jumped onto Oberyn Martell and started gnawing at him. Oberyn dropped his spear and tried to get Ghost off but was unable to. Jon struck.

As quickly as he could, he plunged his sword into Oberyn's exposed sides, causing the man to scream, he then, shimmied to the side and struck at his throat. At the same time Ghost jumped off him, Oberyn staggered, and the sword went clean through.

Oberyn slumped to the ground. At the same time, the darkness covered the sky once more, as hellbolts rained up at the dragon. Jon looked up, then looked to where Lord Tywin was. The man was barking out orders. Jon took a moment to catch his breath then plunged back into the fighting.

Robb barely had any time to catch his breath before another shadow appeared. This one came low and burned through a line of soldiers. Robb blinked. The dragon was huge. Black as night and as big as perhaps six bulls on top of one another. There was a girl on its back.

"Throw your weapons!" Robb roared. The command was passed down the line, archers fired off, spearmen threw their spears, but none of them seemed to hit. The dragon managed to avoid them and instead burned through the lines. The screams caused Robb to wince.

The dragon disappeared into the distance. Robb took a breath. He assessed the battlefield. The sellswords they had been fighting had either died or retreated. But they were coming back now. "Ser Jaime." He called out.

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard appeared at his side. His horse had clearly been lost during the fighting, for the man walked over. "Sire?"

He gestured to the dead dragon nearby. "I am going to try and do to that dragon what I did to his brother."

"Sire?" Jaime asked sounding uncertain.

"The enemy is going to try and prevent me from doing what needs to be done. I need you to ensure they cannot get to me." Robb said.

"Of course, Sire." Jaime replied. "Ser Balon, Ser Garth, to me." The two other men got to Jaime and then formed a shield around Robb. Greywind was the fourth piece. Robb closed his eyes and sought the dragon out.

The beast was close at hand, or at least as close as one could get to a dragon. He could sense the other one, or at least what was left of the other one, after the hellbolts had buried themselves in its body. The black dragon was angry and was burning through as many men as possible.

Robb felt its mind and probed. He was immediately pushed back. He opened his eyes and swore. That had not gone how he had wanted. He closed his eyes and tried again. The beast was closer now, Robb could feel the anger radiating off it. He tried to probe the wall and this time he was pushed back even more forcefully. He opened his eyes and swore.

Before he could close his eyes again, he saw the sky darken, the beast landed near to its dead sibling. Anger radiated off it. Robb watched as the dragon moved toward him. Robb immediately dismounted. He drew his sword and walked toward the oncoming dragon. His Kingsguard accompanied him.

Robb stopped when the dragon stopped. They stared at one another.

He felt a pressure against his mind, like several attacks at once. He closed his eyes and dug in. The dragon was trying to break through. The lion had warned him of this. Had warned him that it was going to come down to this. That the dragon would try everything.

"Remember you are fighting a force of nature. You must become one as well."

That was what the Lion had said to him before he had left King's Landing. Now he planted his sword in the ground and held onto it tightly. The remnant of Ice, forged by the Lion during the first fight. He held onto it and drew power from it.

They engaged in a motion of back and forth. Pushing and froing. Neither willing to give ground to the other, but both determined to win. The black dragon roared at one point, and Robb noticed that someone had fired a hellbolt into its skin. He grunted and used that to push harder.

He could feel the sweat dripping off his palms as he held the sword. The dragon kept going though. Pushing and testing, waiting for him to break. He refused to do so. He needed to win. He heard another roar and saw another hellbolt. The dragon roared again, but this time Robb saw an opening. The wall was crumbling. He pushed hard and broke through, gasping with the effort. He grabbed hold of the thing beyond the wall, the fire itself, he held it and then he pushed on it as hard as he could.

He heard the roar, he groaned and then just as he thought things were coming to an end for him, the fire died out. He briefly looked up to see the dragon slump to the ground, before he closed his eyes and slumped to the ground himself. Exhausted.