The Riverlands ― South of the Gods Eye…
Aeonar stood tall with his arms firmly folded behind his back, observing the procession of Caltrop soldiers apprehended while attempting to escape. They were now presented before him, their bodies bound in chains, their faces etched with fear and resignation. As they were forced onto their knees, their fate rested solely in the Young Dragon's hands. His presence alone was enough to send shivers down the spines of those who dared to oppose him.
"I, Aeonar of House Targaryen, the First of My Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to die."
One by one, those who were loyal to the Blacks carried out the gruesome task of slitting the throats of the helpless captive Caltrops. Alysanne Blackwood and Sabitha Frey, witnessing the horrifying scene from a distance, were filled with shock and horror as the command for execution was issued, their desperate gasps for air silenced forever.
"Your Grace! They surrendered!" Alysanne exclaimed.
"There was no need for that," Sabitha protested.
Aeonar swiftly turned his head, his piercing crimson eyes fixated on Alysanne and Sabitha. The fire in his eyes mirrored the vengeful malice that fueled his every action. Alysanne and Sabitha, startled by his stare's sudden intensity, felt a shiver run down their spines. His dragon, Vaelor, had been devouring the bodies of the dead; with each crunch of bones and a gulp of flesh, he emitted a menacing growl, a clear cautionary signal that sent a chill through the air. It was a warning, urging anyone foolish enough to challenge them to back off.
The tense atmosphere was suddenly interrupted as a wounded scout appeared, gripping his left arm. "Y-Your Grace…" he gasped, exhaustion evident in his voice, filled with fear and uncertainty.
"What's all this noise about?" Aeonar demanded irritatingly.
"The Two Betrayers… set fire to Tumbleton. Th-They… surrounded Prince Lucerys a-and Prince Viserys, but…" He dropped to his hands and knees. "I-I'm so sorry, Your Grace. But… your son… he… he…"
After the scout finished recounting the details – the First Battle of Tumbleton, the mysterious sellsword army, the Blacks' forces in the Reach led by Lord Ormund Hightower and the Winter Wolves being utterly wiped out, Hugh Hammer and Ulf White arriving on Seasmoke, and Tessarion attacking Lucerys and Viserys – the most devastating news for Aeonar was the death of his son Viserys. Aeonar's body trembled, his eyes turning a deeper shade of crimson-blood red. His grip on reality slipped. Clenching his fists tightly, the sharp claws of his draconic gauntlets cut deep into his skin, blood dripping from his hands, staining the ground beneath him. Aeonar loses control, consumed by his burning thirst for vengeance. His anguished screams upon losing another son were a haunting sound that instilled fear in both his enemies and his own soldiers more than any battle drums could. The enemy would pay for what they had taken from him, and no one would be spared from his wrath. Despite attempts to calm their king, the Blacks kept their distance as Vaelor sensed Aeonar's intense emotions, for his wrath knows no bounds.
"*RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!*" Vaelor roared, spreading his wings; the Swiftrunner's call reverberated through the stormy skies.
Fueled by vengeance, Aeonar swiftly drew Blackfyre and turned around to strike down the messenger who had brought him the dreadful news. As the scout stood before him, trembling in fear, Aeonar's grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. His heart had no room for mercy, only the insatiable hunger for retribution. In one swift motion, he swung Blackfyre with a force that seemed to defy the laws of nature. The scout's body was torn asunder, blood and entrails spilling onto the muddy ground. The thunder roared in approval, its deafening sound echoing Aeonar's fury. But it was not just his sword that reflected his wrath. Aeonar's eyes, once a gentle shade of pale lilac from his youthful days, now burned with an otherworldly intensity. They glowed with an unholy crimson as if the very essence of his soul had been tainted by the darkness that consumed him. The crimson shades grew more profound with each passing moment as if the demon that possessed him was slowly taking hold. The mystery remained whether the liquid streaming down his cheeks were tears of blood. The rain washed away the evidence of his pain, blending the red streaks with the water that cascaded down his cheeks. But there was no time for sorrow, no room for remorse. Aeonar's heart beat with a single purpose - revenge. With red streaks trickling down his face, Aeonar quickly headed towards his dragon, climbing up to Vaelor's saddle and securely fastening himself in.
"Sōvēs, Valor! (Fly, Vaelor!)"
"*RAAAAAAAAAAAAA!*"
The Westerlands ― Near Casterly Rock…
Aemma and her escorts had been tirelessly engaged in negotiations with Lord Dalton Greyjoy in an attempt to bring an end to the relentless ironborn raids along the Sunset Sea. The talks had been arduous and seemingly endless, with Dalton refusing to budge an inch from his demands. A resolution appeared to be far from sight, and frustration began to set in. However, fate intervened most unexpectedly. News reached Aemma that the notorious Red Kraken himself had met a gruesome end on Fair Isle. His throat had been slit by one of his own salt wives using his very own dagger. Thrown into the chaos that ensued from the sudden death of their leader, the ironborn were forced back to the Iron Islands.
After washing her hands clean, Aemma dealt with the aftermath, ensuring the stability of the Westerlands and reaffirming House Lannister's loyalty to the Iron Throne per her eldest brother's instructions. She wasted no time in reaching out to Lady Johanna and offering her a proposition. In exchange for House Lannister reaffirming their oaths of fealty to the Iron Throne, she promised mercy and protection for their house. Aemma understood that House Lannister's support was crucial in maintaining stability and order in the Westerlands, and she was willing to go to great lengths to secure it. Slowly but surely, Aemma began to see progress. Through careful negotiations and diplomatic finesse, Johanna, acting as Lady Regent to her young son Lord Loreon, agreed to the terms and bent the knee to Princess Aemma Targaryen.
As Aemma was discussing matters with Sers Braedan and Martin Reyne, one of the scouts hurried close to them. "Princess!" he said with alarm. "Pr… Prince Jaehaerys has made contact with the Two Betrayers, Hugh Hammer and Ulf White, at Tumbleton. And he's begun the attack!"
"What?" Aemma exclaimed, worried that her brother was facing them alone. "We must send him aid at once! Who is nearest to him?"
"Lord Thaddeus is, princess, but he is half a day's ride from Tumbleton and lacks any anti-dragon weapons."
No, he won't make it in time. Aemma was well aware that despite Jaehaerys' skills in combat and as a dragonrider, he would need additional support if he was up against two adversaries simultaneously. Even Vermithor, Jaehaerys' dragon, would find fending off two smaller, faster opponents challenging. Silverwing, Aemma's dragon, could sense her distress and also Vermithor's from a distance. Being bonded to the Bronze Fury, she could instinctively tell when her mate was in danger. "Ser Braedan, Ser Martin, I leave with pacifying the Westerlands to you. I'm sorry, but I must take my leave."
"Wha…?"
"Princess!"
Aemma ignored Braedan's and Martin's objections, quickly approaching her dragon, Silverwing. She grabbed the rope netting that led to her saddle, swiftly ascending and securing herself in place. Her hands firmly gripped the reins, her fingers tightening around the leather as she prepared to take control and gave firm High Valyrian commands. "Sōvēs, Gēltīkun! Aderī! (Fly, Silverwing! Quickly!)"
"*Raaaaaaaaa!*" Silverwing responded immediately, her powerful wings beating against the air as he lifted off the ground.
As Aemma and Silverwing flew off, she could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. The stormy winds picked up, blowing fiercely against her face as they soared higher and higher, leaving Braedan and Martin far below, their voices fading into the distance, the landscape becoming smaller and smaller. The wind whipped through her hair, and the world below seemed to shrink away as they climbed toward the clouds. The sky darkened ominously as they soared through the storm clouds, and the sound of thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning flashed sporadically, illuminating the turbulent skies. Despite the raindrops pricking her face and the turbulent gusts of wind pushing against them, Aemma steered her dragon through the tempest to their new destination: Tumbleton.
Please, let me make it! Just hold on, Jay! I'm coming! Hold on!
The Reach ― Tumbleton…
"*Reeeeeeeee!*"
"*Raaaaaaaa!*"
"*Roooooooaa!*"
A fierce battle unfolded over the skies of the burnt-out ruins of Tumbleton between three dragons, their roars echoing through the air. Vermithor emitted a menacing growl as he unleashed a torrent of tan-orange flames from his jaws before lunging at Seasmoke. But before he could make contact, Tessarion, the smallest and most agile of the three dragons, launched a surprise attack from behind, catching the Bronze Fury off guard. The element of surprise gave Tessarion the upper hand, and she quickly seized the opportunity to sink her talons into her larger opponent's back and bite into his shoulder. Snapping his jaws, Vermithor roared angrily and shook his body to throw off Tessarion. But before the elder dragon could retaliate, Seasmoke again was on the offensive, soaring through the air and snapping his jaws around Vermithor's neck.
Despite being the larger, stronger, and more experienced of the three dragons, Vermithor found himself fighting against two younger, smaller, and faster adversaries alone, both of whom were already experiencing blood lust from killing Maelyx and Essovius. With a sudden movement of his head, Vermithor swiftly turned to one side, utilizing his momentum to dislodge Seasmoke and weaken his grip. The force of his maneuver caught Seasmoke off guard, causing him to lose his balance and falter in his attack momentarily. Vermithor seized this opportunity and lunged towards the other dragon, clenching his jaws tightly around its neck. The younger dragon, taken aback by Vermithor's unexpected counterattack, struggled to break free from the iron grip of the elder dragon. Vermithor, fueled by his unwavering determination, exerted all his strength to maintain his hold, refusing to let go. With a mighty roar, he forcefully hurled Seasmoke aside.
"*Reeee-Raaaaaah!*" Seasmoke spiraled through the air after Vermithor threw him but quickly recovered to swoop down again and yet again, breathing flame.
"*ROOOOOOOOA!*" Vermithor let out a furious roar as his rage was ignited.
Nearby, Tessarion threw herself into the fray, shrieking and spitting flame, and the Bronze Fury turned to meet her. Their teeth and claws dug into his scaly hide, wounding Vermithor, but he was not out of the fight just yet. Driven by pure animalistic instinct, all three dragons knew this would end in one or all of them dying.
Vermithor unleashed a fierce inferno towards Seasmoke, who narrowly evaded the scorching flames, his tail tip getting singed. Seasmoke and Tessarion, using their agility and teamwork to try and outmaneuver the larger and stronger elder dragon, retaliated with their fireballs, but Vermithor lowered his head to absorb the impact, ascending higher before swooping back down for a close-quarters aerial battle. Whether in the sky or on the ground, the Bronze Fury was a formidable opponent for Seasmoke. Despite being outnumbered, Vermithor fought ferociously, slashing and tearing at his adversaries. Recognizing the danger they posed as a group, Vermithor focused on Seasmoke. Both extended their foot claws, but their massive bodies collided in a mid-air melee of claws and fangs. Vermithor digs into Seasmoke with his talons, biting and raking one another with massive claws, slicing significant wounds into each other while Tessarion clung to his back. As Vermithor attempted to shake her off, she clung on with a determination that matched his own. Her talons dug deeper into his shoulder, drawing blood, while her jaws snapped at his wings, tearing through the tough scales. Vermithor let out a roar of pain and anger, his movements momentarily hindered by the relentless assault. Yet, despite the odds stacked against him, the Bronze Fury fought on, refusing to back down from a fight.
Elsewhere on the field, the surviving members of the Two Betrayers' sellsword army, those who managed to escape Vermithor's fiery breath, were reduced to a mere ten, gripped only by a state of fear and panic. Encircled by a raging wall of fire and surrounded by foreboding storm clouds, accompanied by the deafening roar of thunder and flashes of lightning, Hugh Hammer and Ulf White stood back-to-back, their senses dulled by the cacophony of screams and thunderous booms. The flames and bolts of lightning blinded them, leaving them disoriented and unsure of where the next assault from Jaehaerys Targaryen would strike. Amidst the deafening roar of thunder, their vision obscured by the blaze and bolts of lightning, it wasn't long before they experienced the full force of the Silver Dragon's fury.
"Coward! Show your face, boy!" Hard Hugh Hammer demanded, tightening his grip on his war hammer. Where are you?! Come on! Face me!
Desperation set in the ten remaining sellswords as they frantically sought an escape route. Every sudden movement, every unexpected sound, sent a jolt of fear through their ranks. The sounds of steel meeting steel filled the air, mingling with the screams of the wounded and dying. The ground beneath their feet was slick with blood, making every step treacherous. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the stakes they were facing. With every step they took, the sellswords could feel the sticky residue of blood clinging to their boots. With each sudden movement, heads swiveled, and bodies twisted, desperately trying to locate the origin of the commotion. Jaehaerys seemed to materialize from nowhere, striking down their comrades ruthlessly and disappearing as quickly as he showed up before anyone could spot him. However, with every turn, another sellsword met their shocking end, leaving the group to be systematically picked off one by one, their bodies crumpling to the ground like discarded puppets. Throats were slit, knives hurled through the wall of flames to be lodged into their eyes or have their legs taken out from under them.
« A crown does not make a man a king, blacksmith. Humility and wisdom do. A wise king listens to his advisors until he comes of age, and great kings lead with integrity and put the benefit of his people ahead of his own. A lowborn bastard such as yourself would not understand. »
"Grrrrrrr!" Hard Hugh's face contorted into a fierce snarl as he tightly gripped his giant war hammer, searching for his opponent. Amidst the raging inferno surrounding him, five deadly Valyrian throwing stars were suddenly sliced through the air, their deadly edges glinting from the flames's light, taking down three of Hugh's sellswords in seconds. However, the two remaining stars merely bounced off his sturdy breastplate, failing to penetrate its protective barrier. Yet, one of the stars managed to find a weak spot in his chainmail, embedding itself beneath his shoulder, blood trickling down his arm. But as he focused on his wound, a swift and agile figure darting past him caught him off guard. The figure moved with grace and speed that it seemed to blur in Hugh's vision. The flames danced around him, casting an eerie glow on his face.
"Graghh! Gluuu-gluuuuuh!" Ulf White's eyes widened in shock when his throat was abruptly slit open by a rapid assault, causing him to gasp for air. Hugh spun around just in time to witness Ulf desperately clawing at his neck; his expression twisted in fear. The dragonseed stumbled and fell to the ground. Blood continued to gush from Ulf's grievous wound, staining the ground beneath him a deep crimson. His intoxicated visage was now etched with terror as blood incessantly gushed from his lacerated throat until, eventually, Ulf's movements grew weaker until he lay completely still.
« May your names be forever remembered in infamy. You killed Viserys, you killed Luke… Now, you're going to pay for your crimes. »
"Hard Hugh!" the last remaining sellsword called out.
But before Hugh could react, a flash of silver streaked through the fiery inferno, catching him off guard. A serrated curved dagger connected to a chain suddenly shot through the blazing fire with incredible velocity. The glinting blade found its mark with chilling precision, burying itself deep into the sellsword's forehead. A sickening thud echoed through the night as the dagger pierced through bone and flesh, ending the man's life in a matter of seconds before the chain swiftly pulled the dagger back like a serpent, disappearing into the flames from which it came. The flames danced and flickered, concealing any trace of the chain's existence as if it had never been there.
"Boy!" Hugh roared.
« But first, you have my condolences, Hugh Hammer. »
"For what?!"
« You died in battle. »
In an instant, the dagger and chain combination emerged once more from the fiery depths, finding its mark on Hugh's shoulder pauldron. Though it didn't penetrate deeply, the curved blade became firmly lodged in place. Determined to retaliate, Hugh grasped the chain with his powerful hands and pulled with all his might, attempting to draw in his unseen assailant. Yet, with that aggressive tug however, his efforts only served to expose Jaehaerys, who seized the opportunity to launch himself at Hugh. The Silver Dragon's knee connected with Hugh's face, followed by a firm grip on his hair, planted his feet on the dragonseed's breastplate for stability and leaped onto his back where Hugh Hammer couldn't reach him.
"Ragh! Why you…!" Hugh tried to grab him.
Jaehaerys swiftly removed the pauldron protecting Hugh's right shoulder and flicked his wrist, activating the concealed mechanism that unleashed a slender blade from his sleeves. With precision, the blade swiftly pierced Hugh's exposed flesh at the point where the deltoid muscle connected his shoulder to his upper arm. As the blade sank into Hugh's flesh, a sharp gasp escaped his lips, his eyes widening in shock and pain. The slender blade had found its mark, severing tendons and slicing through muscle with a surgeon's precision. Jaehaerys had calculated the exact angle and force needed to render them weak and suddenly become incapable of bearing the weight of his warhammer. Hugh's right shoulder sagged, and the formidable weapon slipped from his grasp, crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.
"Gah!"
The dragonseed's arm hung limply at his side, useless and lacking strength. Every movement sent waves of agony coursing through his body, a constant reminder of the blade's devastating impact. The once-muscular deltoid muscle is now twitched and spasmed and cannot perform its previous duties. Summoning every ounce of strength, Hugh flexed his muscles and attempted to shake Jaehaerys off his back. The dagger still lodged in his shoulder pauldron only fueled his determination to free himself from his assailant's grasp. With a sudden burst of energy, Hugh twisted his body violently, hoping to dislodge Jaehaerys from his back.
But Jaehaerys wasn't done yet. Since dueling Aegon the Elder in the courtyard when they were thirteen, his father, Aeonar, commented to King Viserys that his eldest son was merely holding back when he defeated Aegon that day. No more; this time, Jaehaerys was deadly serious.
Jaehaerys clung onto Hugh's hair with an iron grip, refusing to be thrown off. Sensing Hugh's desperation, he swiftly pivoted towards the front, severing the leather straps that secured his breastplate in one fluid motion. The straps snapping echoed in the air, symbolizing his liberation from the constraints of armor. With a forceful motion, he tore Hugh's breastplate off, leaving it partially suspended and revealing his vulnerable abdomen to the world. Just as Hugh's left arm lunged forward, driven by desperation and an attempt to grab him, Jaehaerys deftly maneuvered behind him again. His agile movements were a testament to years of Lykirī Mēre training and honing his combat skills. Jaehaerys had learned to anticipate his opponent by observing their movements, and he used this knowledge to his advantage. Taking advantage of the exposed backside created by the hanging breastplate, Jaehaerys seized the opportunity for a decisive strike. With a swift and ruthless motion, he plunged his concealed blade into Hugh's kidneys, aiming for the vulnerable spot that would cause the most pain. The blade slid effortlessly through flesh and muscle, seeking retribution for the Two Betrayers killing his younger brother and cousin. As the blade found its mark, Jaehaerys twisted it mercilessly, intensifying the agony inflicted upon Hugh. Each twist was a physical manifestation of the grief that consumed him, a desperate attempt to make the betrayer feel even a fraction of the pain he had caused.
With each passing moment, Hugh's strength waned, his body unable to withstand the onslaught. His knees were buckling, and Hugh tried to grab Jaehaerys, but the Silver Dragon wrapped the chain around Hugh's neck, tightening his grip and cutting off his air supply. Hugh gasped for breath, his vision blurring as the pressure on his windpipe increased. Desperate to break free, Hugh thrashed and struggled, but Jaehaerys held firm, his grip unyielding. With each passing moment, Hugh's strength waned, his struggles growing weaker as darkness crept in at the edges of his vision. Just then, a sudden surge of adrenaline coursed through Hugh's veins. With a primal roar, he summoned all his remaining strength and pushed himself to his feet. With a powerful exertion, Hugh broke free from the chain, compelling Jaehaerys to execute a backflip and gracefully land on his feet.
However, as Hugh turned around, Jaehaerys swiftly unsheathed his straight-edged king sword and plunged it deep into Hammer's belly before opening the bastard from groin to throat and ripping out his entrails in a gruesome display. A torrent of blood sprayed out, covering Jaehaerys in a scarlet coat before Hugh crumpled to the ground. Standing over the fallen foe, Jaehaerys felt a sense of clarity wash over him. The desire for retribution faded, leaving only the ache of losing Viserys and Lucerys. He dropped to his knees, his chest heaving with the weight of what he had just done, the weight of his actions crashing down on him. Tears finally welled up in his eyes as he knew that this act of violence would not bring his brother and cousin back. The once noble cause now felt hollow and empty. Jaehaerys understood that the cycle of violence and bloodshed would only bring more pain and suffering.
It was a cycle that needed to be broken.
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
In the sky above, Tessarion threw herself into the air, shrieking and spitting flame, and Vermithor turned his massive body to meet her. A dragon's scales are largely, though not entirely, impervious to flame; they protect the more vulnerable flesh and musculature beneath. As a dragon ages, its scales thicken and grow harder, affording even more protection, even as its flames burn hotter and fiercer. Blood stained their scales, a testament to the ferocity of their attacks. The Bronze Fury unleashed a powerful column of flame, a blazing torrent in Tessarion's direction aiming to divert her attention, and lashed out with his tail, striking the Blue Queen with a force that sent her spiraling through the air before refocusing on Seasmoke. The three-way clash between the dragons left all participants battered and marked with scars. Seasmoke clamped his jaws onto Vermithor's neck, sinking his teeth in as they both descended erratically towards the ground. The two dragons fiercely bit and clawed at each other, inflicting deep wounds with their massive talons. In a fit of rage, Vermithor retaliated and dug his claws into Seasmoke's side, tearing through flesh and sinew, and delivered bone-crushing bites to the back of his opponent's neck, refusing to let go as they fought with a primal fury that knew no bounds with blood smoking from a dozen wounds. The dragons spiraled through the air, locked in a deadly embrace, their roars echoing through the sky. Soaring like eagles and stooping like hawks, they circled, snapping, roaring, and spitting fire.
Tessarion then slammed into Vermithor from above. The impact was so forceful that it sent shockwaves rippling through the air, causing the very sky to tremble in its wake. With the injuries sustained from fighting two younger dragons by himself, the Bronze Fury was having trouble remaining airborne, his movements becoming sluggish and unsteady. Tails snapped, and wings beat at the air, but the beasts were so entangled that neither was able to break free.
However…
As Tessarion's claws sank deep into Vermithor's back, Vaelor emerged from the dark, ominous storm clouds like a shark bursting through the surf, huge jaws opening wide, and the Swiftrunner bit down hard on the Blue Queen's midsection—the single bite sheers off Tessarion's head, neck, and tail. Most of the rest of the dead dragon becomes a meal. The sheer force of Vaelor's impact knocked Vermithor and Seasmoke loose and sent them crashing down into the muddy ground below.
The impact of Vaelor's attack caused a shockwave that reverberated through the battlefield, shaking the very earth beneath their feet. As the ground beneath him shook violently, Jaehaerys felt his entire body convulse with the force of the tremor. His legs wobbled uncontrollably, and he stumbled forward, desperately trying to regain his balance. But as the tremor subsided and the ground beneath him stilled, Jaehaerys's determination began to resurface, and he slowly pushed himself up to see Tessarion's broken body pieces falling behind him and Vaelor flying overhead.
F-Father?!
The two dragons, Vermithor and Seasmoke, rolled and tore at one another before the Bronze Fury chomped deeply into the silver-grey dragon's neck with a sickening crunch and ripped his head off, the sickening crunch reverberating through the air. Blood spurted from the severed neck, painting the clouds a dark shade of crimson. But even in his moment of triumph, he could not escape the toll that the fight had taken on him. With his prize still clutched in his jaws, he struggled to catch his breath, his wings drooping with exhaustion. Vermithor's own body bore the marks of the brutal confrontation. His once gleaming bronze scales were marred with deep gashes and singed patches, evidence of the fierce blows he had endured. Blood dripped from his wounds, staining the ground beneath him, as he struggled to catch his breath. The weight of his triumph was heavy upon Vermithor's weary frame. The battle had been long and grueling, each dragon unleashing their fury upon the other. Laying his head down, Vermithor was too exhausted and in pain to fly. His wings wouldn't be able to lift his weight in his current condition.
"lēkia! (Brother!)"
Jaehaerys glanced upwards and witnessed Silverwing descending through the scorching gusts of wind emanating from the raging inferno below. As the former dragon of Good Queen Alysanne finally touched the ground, Aemma, filled with relief and anxiety, hastily dismounted and hurried towards her eldest brother. However, as Aemma's steps brought her closer to the scene, her relief quickly turned to horror, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she took in the sight of the lifeless bodies strewn across the ground. Among them were sellswords, the lifeless bodies strewn across the ground. Among them were the fallen sellswords, the Hightowers, Ulf White, and Hugh Hammer… but what struck her the hardest was the sight of the dismembered remains of the young dragons Maelyx and Essovius, alongside the pile of ashes that once represented Lucerys Velaryon, and the lifeless form of their other younger brother, Viserys Targaryen. Aemma found it impossible to comprehend. She had lost a cousin and yet another brother.
"N-No… No, no, no, no…!"
Aemma fell to her knees, unable to bear the weight of the devastation before her. Her heart shattered into a million pieces as she crouched over to Viserys, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch his cold, lifeless face. Overwhelmed with grief, Aemma's trembling lip quivered, and tears streamed down her face, leaving streaks of anguish in their wake as she couldn't help but believe that she had arrived too late.
"VISERYS! NOOO!"
Wailing at the top of her lungs, Aemma's cries echoed through the torrential downpour as she clung to Viserys's lifeless body. The loss of her brother was unbearable, and the weight of grief seemed to crush her. The ongoing Dance of the Dragons had torn their family apart and left a trail of devastation in its wake as the realm tore itself apart in a bloody struggle for power, with countless innocents caught in the middle. Now, it had claimed Lucerys and Viserys as its latest victims. Jaehaerys stood beside them, a silent pillar of support, his hand gently resting on Aemma's shoulder, offering what little comfort he could in the face of such loss. He was the oldest, but inside, he felt like a failure as he couldn't protect Viserys, Daeron, or Luke. They were his responsibility, and he couldn't protect them.
Aeonar approached his son and daughter, his eyes filled with a deeper shade of unsettling crimson-blood red. The unspoken tension between the king and his heir was palpable, highlighting the stark contrast between the two Targaryens. Aeonar, the embodiment of fire and fury, his once silver hair now streaked with gray, stood tall and imposing. His grief was a silent storm raging within him, threatening to consume everything in its path. Jaehaerys, on the other hand, was the epitome of calm and reason. His silver hair cascaded down his back, contrasting their father's graying locks. His eyes, a piercing shade of violet, held a wisdom beyond his years. He had always been the voice of reason, the one who sought peace and unity in a world torn apart by power struggles. As Aeonar approached, his presence seemed to fill the room, his grief and anger radiating off him like waves of heat. The loss of Viserys had only deepened the fractures within their family, leaving them teetering on the edge of collapse.
Silverwing nudged Vermithor with her snout as if trying to make her mate fly. But the Bronze Fury gave a weak draconic groan in response. Vaelor gave growling vocalizations to the two elder dragons before glancing down at the Targaryens. Perhaps it was sentimental of him, but the Swiftrunner curled loosely around his rider's daughter to comfort her, using his wing to shield Aemma from the rain as she continued crying.
"VISERYS!"
Chapter End
Author's Note: With that, the Second Battle of Tumbleton comes to an end. What was your interpretation of it? How will Viserys's death further affect Aeonar, and what of Rhaenyra and her sons Jace and Joffrey? Did you think there was anything that could've been added before Season 2 airs next month? Let your thoughts be known.
XavierWright: Aeonar is descending further and further into darkness... I can't imagine that will end well. Poor Luke and Viserys are dead, and while they may have been avenged, they deserve better.
I imagine not only will Rhaenyra and her remaining sons be devastated, but Lord Corlys and Rhaenys will be heartbroken as well. Because even knowing their biological parentage, I think those two still acknowledged that Laenor loved those kids like his own, and Laenor's influence on them, however much that may have been, is the closest reminder they'll have of their deceased son.
Corlys may be fueled by ambition, but I do believe he really loved Lucerys and the rest as his own grandsons.
Dante 101: The Dance is almost over. But this leaves several questions.
What is to be done with Aeoner? Given how batshit crazy he's becoming, something has to be done about him.
―I imagine a lot of people have something to say about him and what they want
What happens after the Dance is over?
―It'll be a long, slow recovery process but House Targaryen will never be the same again
Aeoner almost slew all his enemies. So what happens when there's no dragons left to slay?
―It marks the slow decline of House Targaryen
C.E.W: The Second Battle of Tumbleton is over, and the two betrayers Hugh Hammer and Ulf White are dead along with their dragons Seasmoke and Tessarion. Sadly though it came at cost with the deaths of Viserys and Lucerys along with their dragons. Aemma is devastated by the lose of her cousin who Daeron died for, and is even more so with the death of another brother. The worse of it all is that Aeonar Targaryen is more than likely to get worse.
Given that Aeonar struck down a messenger because he had bad news in front of bannermen loyal to him shows them how far he is falling.
With Dalton Greyjoy dead, the Ironborn threat is uplifted and the Westerlands are secured for the Blacks. With the betrayers and their dragons dead, the only enemy dragon left is Vhagar who is ridden by Aemond Targaryen. Unless Aegon the Elder can claim the Cannibal, but I figure he's too wounded to pull that off.
Vermithor is badly wounded, and can only hope that he can recover from the wounds.
Jaehaerys is hurt not only by the deaths of his brother and cousin, but because he gave into anger. I'm sure he can use some help from his cousin and best friend Jacaerys and his wife Baela whose probably heavy with his child by now. His mother Alicent and Aunt Rhaenyra might be a little preoccupied with mourning their sons. Who knows what direction Rhaenyra will take, if she succumbs to same madness Aeonar has.
Questions:
Will Jaehaerys go to King's Landing to look after his mourning family, or will he stay with Vermithor till he recovers?
―Vermithor will recover, but Jaehaerys will have to return to King's Landing
How far along is Baela with her pregnancy?
―Almost time for delivery
Will Jacaerys push himself to claim another dragon when he hears of Lucerys' death?
―He'll try
As Rhaenys' awakening been announced to the other family members yet?
―Yes
randomdude24: Jay has avenged both Viserys and Lucerys, but it's a bittersweet pill. He may have killed Hugh and Ulf, but nothing he can say or do will bring them back, the only bright side is another threat to the realm has been removed. I fear what Aeonar will do, Dareon's death put him over the edge, losing another son is bound to make him really lose it and go full mad king.
Questions,
I wonder as we get closer to the end of the dance, how will both claimants Aeonar and Aegon be remembered? What I mean is what names will history give them? Aegon the Conqueror, Aenys the Weakling, Maegor the cruel, etc.
―Can't spoil anything yet
What is the current status of house peake? With Unwin in chains and leaving his youngest daughter all thats left, have they surrendered?
―Only Unwin and his daughter Myrielle remain
Jay seems to be at a low point and wants this war to end. He doesn't seem to agree with his father much. Will Jay be forced to take his fathers throne? If he's beyond reason
―He'll be forced to take a more active role
Is Vermithor dead or just badly injured?
―Badly injured. He would've been dead if Vaelor hadn't intervened.
roggerlopez99: this chapter was blood murder revenge and sadness
So where to begin well seeing Aeonar again and he is cruelly executing caltrops soldiers having there throat slit even Alysanne Blackwood and Sabitha Frey, his allies are disturbed by this, But the most shocking moment is when Aeonar recieve the news of his son Visery and his nephew Lucery death. He was so angry that the messenger and scout were brutally murder by him, i feel so bad for those two, hell is allies are more afraid of him.
So The Red Kraken just like the canon is dead, killed by one of his salt wives with his own dagger, well at least Aemma doesn't have to deal with the ironborn but she was not ready for what she see in Tumbleton,
So the battle of Tumbleton, Jaehaerys fighting both Hugh and Ulf, he was able to kill both of them but his hurt knowing he gave in into anger, he knows that killing them would not bring them back, Aeonar and Aemma arrive and see the aftermath, with Aemma broken in tears, Tessarion and Seasmoke are dead and Vermithor
Question
1. Aeonar action of killing the messenger and the scout is going to spread, causing more fear to the smallfolks and nobles right
―Yes
2. How badly is the death of Lucery and Visery going to affect everyone,
―Rhaenyra, Jacaerys and Joffrey are gonna be affected by Luke's death. Viserys's death is obviously being felt by his family.
3. How many enemies are left
―Only Aemond Targaryen, his dragon Vhagar, and Aegon the Elder remain