Hello everyone, sorry for taking such a long time to update, but I was caught by the sickness known as Covid. Again. It's a pain, and I am quite sick. But I shall not stop writing! I don't want to keep you all waiting. So, here it is! The next chapter! And it is a pretty long one as well. Enjoy!

Also, the next chapter is going to be not as long, and this will end my current focus on this fanfic. I really need to give some love to my other work, so please wait for me!

So, the next update is the last one of White Lion of the Red Keep, for a while!

-The White Wolf of Winterfell! (One more chapter)
-Boku No Overlord (One Chapter)
-Harry Potter and the Demon Empress (One Chapter)

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Chapter 23

Far up, beyond the icy mountains of the north, away from all life or the prospect of survival, in the land of always winter, the place where snow never melts, where the so-called edge of the world meets the end of all life, secrets lie in silence for thousands upon thousands of years. Forgotten from all memory, and even the tales and songs were lies told from generation to generation. After all, none lived who remembered.

Multiple ice pillars made for a strange structure—a sort of icy throne—but lacked the refinement of a proper throne. Yet, it wasn't made to be sat upon. No, the throne represented more than just the privilege of a king. It meant a broken promise, a betrayal, and waiting for a desperate attempt to bring something precious back to a condemned soul—that's why he stood alone in the darkness of this icy, forgotten castle, where the lights from the auroras shone upon his dead face. His names were many, in different languages, from his past life as a human and when he became the thing mortal men feared. A representation of everything rotten and wrong. Damning his soul for all of eternity, however, was a price he was willing to pay, for his dead queen was worth more to him than everything else in the world.

The Night's King has been banished since that fateful day, 8000 years ago, when, in his greed, his sacrifices to the Others brought down on him the fury of a man he once called his brother. Perhaps it was to be expected. The Night's King understood his misdeeds and sins. They were carved into his cold skin, like a reminder of the things he did. Still, the Night's King would not rest until he got his beloved queen back. His lady and what makes him whole, and this time no one could stop them. The eerie sounds behind him and the Others staring at him reminded him of the pact. The Night's King knew what they wanted more than anything. They have their own goals and have been waiting for the opportunity to reap what they sow.

The Night's King glanced above him and sensed something strange in the air, and the Others felt the same. A deep breath of cold, icy air entered his non-existent lungs. They began to speak in a foreign language that none knew. The Others could feel something foreign enter their realm—a new wave of magic that they had never felt before—strings, waves, slow but powerful pulsations. What was it? What could possibly bring such powerful magic to this world? What type of being could it be? Neither the Night's King nor the Others could answer. However, it was clear that something out there was disrupting the world's fragile balance. A balance that was created by the disappearance of magic in the world.

But what was that balance? Could the old and new gods, and all those entities around the world, be responsible for the sudden disappearance of the world's magic? Could a bitter rivalry between powerful gods have caused the magic to vanish? Or was it something else lost in history? Whatever the case, whoever that being was has brought a breath of fresh air to the beings in the world, which feasted upon the magic long forgotten.

And feast they would, as the waves of magic were slow but palpable. Those beings would soon find a lost strength in them, and one could only wonder what type of future that would bring to the world itself.

Nevertheless, the Night's King could feel something burning inside him. A new wave of strength or vitality allowed him to clutch his icy hands tightly. The winter storm around him began to rise, and the cold ones began to shriek. It was time for them to move after such a long time. The Night's King would search for his queen once again, and when they wed beneath the eternal winter, the world would know their devotion, just like it happened 8000 years ago. But this time, no one would stop them, and the others would have their vengeance too.

For the night is dark and full of terrors.

And on the citadel, in a room where lies the final test for any maester, the glass candles, brought from Old Valyria, were burning once again. Brighter than before and showcasing a new reality. That magic has once again returned to the world. But then again, was that good news? Only time will tell.


On Dragonstone, Galadriel's dragon flew around the island as they proclaimed it theirs. Their large size and their winds cast large shadows on the ships far below them. It should have been impossible to witness dragons again after centuries of them being gone. It just couldn't be something that happened again. But there they were, alive, ferocious, and incredibly loyal to the one who awoke them. Galadriel was near a cliff, watching what she could call her "children" flying around her, like small toddlers who had just learned to fly, which was the case in this instance.

"They are growing even now," Galadriel muttered as she watched them above her. She didn't know how big they would grow. So far, they were big enough to swallow two horses in one bite. Still, if the records of the old Valyria were accurate, dragons would never stop growing. It has to do with their tie to magic; the stronger the link, the stronger they become. So, since those three dragons were bound to Galadriel's blood and magic, they might grow to be the most powerful dragons in all of history.

"My lady, are the new younglings up to your standards?" Sebas asked with a self-amused smile as he noticed the dragons flying above them.

"Yes, they are. But we were right. They are wyverns, not actual dragons from Yggdrasil. But then again, what does it matter? Here they are called dragons, so let's go with that," Galadriel hummed deeply.

"As you wish," Sebas replied.

"However, what should I call them?" Galadriel groaned deeply as she snapped her finger at them. "Hey! Children, come here for a moment!"

When their mother called, the three dragons flew straight to her, not wanting to make her wait. They were obviously more intelligent and way faster than any other dragon in the past. Their scales seemed to be crafted from a material more solid than iron, and if one could look them in the eye, one would see fully formed, self-aware minds. Maybe it was the scariest part about them. Not only were they formidable dragons, but they were also aware of their formidable nature. Nevertheless, for Galadriel, they were just cute collectable pets who needed a name.

"There we are! So big and strong you three are!" Galadriel cooed at the three massive dragons, who seemed to be blushing at Galadriel's teasing. "Now, we need names. Good names—amazing names that have to show the power you three have."

Galadriel seriously considered the matter; after all, she wanted to make sure their names resonated in history. Unfortunately, when it came down to it, a horrible truth came to light: Galadriel's imagination collapsed in terms of naming things. She was dreadful at it, to put it mildly. No one felt awful about saying that Galadriel was terrible at naming weapons, armour, or anything else. She only had such good luck with her name because she borrowed it from one of her favourite books. Again, the same could be said about her creation, Pandora's Actor, which, in hindsight, was indeed a cool name.

So, with that in mind, Galadriel rumbled deeply. "Alright, what about this? Apurikotto, Bakshi, and Pochi?" Galadriel's name came out of her mouth, and she was met with whining and groaning. Honestly, the dragons were dangerous and self-aware, but with those names, they would like to be anything but self-aware. Galadriel blushed at the fact that the names she said were awful enough to make three giant dragons squirm in embarrassment.

"Alright! I get it. You don't like it," Galadriel muttered bashfully. "I guess I can't have a dragon named Pochi. That doesn't sound intimidating at all."

Galadriel then looked at Sebas, who had a simple but cheerful smile on his face, simply enjoying the view of his lady trying to name her newly acquired dragon pets. "Sebas, do you have any suggestions?" Galadriel asked, as the butler only scratched his chin gently, thinking about how he should assist his lady.

"I have no names that could serve you, my lady. It seems that my creativity is not as big as yours, I am afraid," Sebas stated, making Galadriel only awkwardly chuckle. "However, I can suggest that if it is too difficult to create a new name, maybe my lady could get inspiration from somewhere. Maybe from one of those books that my lady loves so much? There could be names waiting for you in the lines of a book."

Those words made Galadriel think about what she could use as inspiration. Galadriel knew that any name she thought of would never do justice to her new dragon-wyvern pets. So, taking Seba's words to heart, she thought deeply about what possible names she could use. Galadriel then glanced at three dragons, who seemed to be tilting their heads at her, waiting for her to give them a worthy name to be revered and feared. She then saw the colour of their scales. Each one of them had a different tone. They even had different types of pointy heads and horns, but their wings and tails had similarities and clear distinctions. But soon enough, Galadriel's mind recalled a set of names that brought shivers to her body. Names that genuinely have the ability to do the same to anyone here, and with that excitement, she clapped her hands. The three dragons could feel their mother's joy from the magical bond, but Galadriel was still unaware it existed.

"I know!" Galadriel smiled as she pointed her finger at the dragon with deep black scales and curved horns pointing backwards. "You're going to be called Ancalagon."

The name appeared to delight Galadriel's dragon, and she grinned upon hearing his response. The black dragon Ancalagon extended his massive wings and bellowed triumphantly. Shaking the earth below him. It was clear that it would be the biggest of the three.

The silver-scaled dragon had a longer tail and neck than his other two brothers, which Galadriel noted. Nonetheless, Galadriel beamed, confident that the name she had in mind would prove to be fitting for such a dragon.

"You're going to be Scatha."

Scatha, like Ancalagon before him, roared at the sound of his name with joy and pride and flailed his wings in apparent pleasure.

Galadriel then saw the last of her dragons. It was of a red colour and had the look of a very intense and quite formidable dragon, ready to burn to ashes all of those who she considered enemies. So, there was only one name left. "And you're going to be Smaug, for I see no other name to befit such raw power."

Smaug and his two siblings both roared with pride, showing that Galadriel's words appeared to have had a positive impact. Soon enough, the three dragons flew above the island again, roaring loudly and echoing through the sky. Now they had a name, a title, or a battle cry. It gives them a purpose and a goal. They would mark this age high above the sky with fire and ashes and said age would have their mother's name burned in it.

Galadriel chuckled as she only stared at her children flying around them like overexcited dogs. "It seems they like it."

"They are beautiful names, my lady, and filled with strength," Sebas added, beaming with pride.

"Now, I would like to admit that having dragons flying around would be the most surprising thing to ever occur in the last 150 years since the last living dragon existed. But, my decision to show these wings has shocked more people than I thought.

Galadriel's black wings were seen as astonishment or as an unknown. Truly, she expected some discomfort and even some fear. And while it did bring some unease and uncertainty, it was highly different from what she anticipated. People were talking about a sort of messiah—a chosen one from the gods or something along those lines. That was, of course, some of the soldiers who witnessed her wings, who mostly believed in anything. However, watching their reaction, Galadriel deduced that It would not be hard to manipulate the masses, the common folk, especially with how loved she was. Yet, the rest simply took their time, wondering about everything that had happened. And Galadriel would give them just that. It was a lot to take in, and she didn't want to overwhelm them.

"Is there anything we should be worried about?" Sebas asked as Galadriel chuckled.

"No, they'll get used to it. They have to, whether they like it or not. This world has just gotten a bit larger," Galadriel replied as she glanced at her dragons one last time. It was going to be a shocking revelation for the whole world. A huge scene for her to play, just like she likes it.


Tywin Lannister wasn't a godly man. He hasn't been since the death of Joanna. Whatever god was out there meant too little to him; it was just a tale of a ghost for children to quiver in fear. Tywin Lannister has lost faith in everything and everyone. But then he witnessed his granddaughter ride out a firestorm and emerge with three adult dragons. More significantly, though, by the fact that she sprouted wings on her back. Tywin just couldn't fathom what he could believe now. Was it a test from the gods? A sort of last attempt to get him to pray? To show him a miracle? He didn't know. However, it was all real, and there was no denying it.

Tywin's granddaughter was a divine being. But what could that mean in the grand scheme of things? That was left unsaid.

"I heard that the combined forces are already at Duskendale," Galadriel's voice made Tywin snap back to reality as he saw his granddaughter sitting in front of him, eating breakfast, just like a normal day. However, he did notice that she had a hard time sitting right. The wings were pretty bothersome.

"Yes, and I have sent 1000 Lannister soldiers to assist King's Landing while the rest of our forces arrive. And we are to leave today. We have the wind on our side. And, I have spoken with Lord Stannis. He is already with the fleet."

"Are you sure about not telling Mother about our plans?" Galadriel asked as Tywin scoffed.

"No. I don't trust her with this vital information. We must make sure to catch Renly by surprise. I have only told Tyrion what he needed to know."

"I know Uncle Tyrion will do his best to defend the city while our forces arrive there."

"Of course, he will. He is a Lannister."

Tywin stated this, surprising Jaime, who was still shocked about his niece's current predicament. He was glad that Tywin showed a level of respect for Tyrion's intelligence, but Jaime was still looking at Galadriel's wings, which moved strangely.

"Also, there is something else," Galadriel replied. "I have spoken to the rest of the lords about, well, the dragons."

"Oh, what have you told them?" Tywin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"This is the first time dragons will participate in a battle, grandfather. And I don't want to burn my allies by mistake. So, I advise Lord Robb and Prince Oberyn to let Renly's army attack them. To let them cross the Blackwater Rush River. An open-field battle will be a better target than roasting the walls of King's Landing."

"Wait, Your Grace, are you saying that-?" Ser Barristan muttered, watching Galadriel's eyes.

"Yes, I'll ride one of the dragons. No one but me can guide them."

"Are you sure that's prudent, niece? Riding a dragon-" Jaime added now, looking at how Galadriel's wings seemed to move by themselves when Galadriel munched her food.

"Well, I know how it looks, uncle. But, the Targaryens from the past ride them all the time. They didn't die from slipping and falling. Well, a few did. But I will be on high alert. I will not put myself in danger. Renly and his army will not expect a dragon from high above. I doubt they have any scorpions at all."

"That's true, Your Grace," Ser Barristan muttered. "But the risk—"

"It's acceptable, Ser Barristan," Galadriel stated firmly. "Everyone is risking their lives for me. Let me at least contribute to the fight. Let them see their queen flying high above them."

Galadriel turned her attention to Tywin, and her wings trembled slightly as she spoke. They could tell that her emotions dictated their actions, like a trial of sorts. "Grandfather, you taught me that leaders lead. Suppose one were to call himself a king. He must set an example. Now, I am doing that."

Galadriel expertly played up her grandfather's ego, and judging by Tywin's reaction, he appeared to agree with her. It's not like he could do anything else but accept the reality he was presented with.

"So be it. And just like you say, those dragons won't listen to anyone but you."

"Thank you," Galadriel smiled before leaning back on her chair, not before trying to adjust herself to it. Galadriel's wings moved around, almost on their own. While at the same time, they were still mesmerised by those wings. It was starting to look like Galadriel was finding herself quite annoyed by them. Of course, they didn't know that Galadriel's acting allowed them to think that.

Tywin hummed before, just like everyone else, glancing at Galadriel's wings. "Your Grace. Your newly discovered... wings. Are they a bother, or are they painful?" Tywin lacked the clarity to formulate a direct query. Of course, neither did anyone else. Gendry and Mya were at a loss for words and questions as well. Everyone was in a state of uncertainty, with some people still in astonishment.

With a smile on her face, Galadriel just stared at her grandfather, the Old Lion. The context of his inquiry was clear, however. He, like many others, sought to reacclimate themselves to the thought of having dragons back among them. But there was also the fact that the person they were all so familiar with now sported a pair of wings. That's why Galadriel wanted to keep the image of her being inexperienced with her newly acquired limbs as a way to help everyone around her get used to the idea of her having those things on her back. Also, it was one of the reasons she didn't outright fly. Galadriel could, and she wanted it, but it would be too much for the people around her.

One step at a time. Galadriel thought.

That's why, Galadriel hummed as she scratched her left wing. "Well, it's harder to sit; that's one," Galadriel muttered, earning a few chuckles from Jaime and Gendry. "Also, when I want to sleep, it's bizarre moving around. It's like having a long overcoat or something. And when I bathed this morning. I needed help to get them dry. I couldn't do it by myself."

"Are they heavy? They are quite large, after all," Mya asked Galadriel, aware that it was tough to bathe since she had helped her in the morning.

"Surprisingly, they aren't heavy at all. It's mostly hard getting used to having those things behind me."

"But why wings…? If I could ask, Your Grace. How did it come to pass?" Ser Barristan asked softly, and Galadriel smiled, finally getting the question she had been waiting for.

"I can't say genuinely, Ser Barristan. In my dreams, I just dreamed of flying. That I soar into the sky. But as well, I would need them in the future... but that's all I can remember," Galadriel then glanced at them. "But, I am still me. The same person, just with these two things attached to my back."

Those words seem to be working since Galadriel could see the people around them getting relaxed. Even, Tywin sighed deeply, just accepting the true of the situation presented at this stage of his life.

"Can you fly?" Jaime asked, and now everyone looked at her. "You said that in your dreams, you could fly."

"I… I don't know. It's not like I am about to jump from one of the cliffs of Dragonstone to test it out," Galadriel replied, faking shock. "I'm not that desperate to find out!"

Soon, good-hearted smiles and chuckles could be heard from everyone in the room. It was clear that normalising their current predicament was working wonders for them. It was all they needed to get used to—the normalisation of the supernatural.

"It would be like a pigeon? Waving your wings around," Gendry's voice took on an aged brother tone as he poked fun at her half-sister's new predicament.

"A flying pigeon?" Mya added with a smirk of her own. "Or a seagull?"

"Your Grace, I could help you with that. I used to jump from Casterly Rock's cliff when I was a child," Jaime teased, earning a glare from not only his father but Ser Barristan.

"And you will not," Tywin stated quickly while glaring at Jaime. "I shall not have the queen jumping from cliffs or towers."

"I have no intention of doing that, grandfather," Galadriel replied, glancing around and noticing their expression. "I'm pretty happy with having my feet on the ground."

"Good," Tywin replied, glaring at Jaime, who simply chuckled.

However, now Galadriel wanted to bring a different topic to the table, helping them put their focus on something else. "Grandfather, with my dragons, this war is already won. No one in here doubts it. However, what should I do with my uncle, Renly? Or with Joffrey? Or the other lords who choose to follow them?"

Tywin leaned back on his chair as Jaime got quiet quickly. "You're the queen. What should be a fitting punishment for them?" Tywin questioned Galadriel, with no actual malice in his voice but curiosity.

Galadriel faked nervousness as she gulped deeply. Her wings twitched slightly, but Galadriel then shook her head and showed a determined face.

"The lords would be punished accordingly. If Renly's surrender is peaceful, I will pardon his life. But he will be sent to the north and take the black. The same will go to Joffrey."

Jaime closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Joffrey is taking the black. That will not fare well with Cersei. Jaime only thought, half amused, half depressed. But he knew that Joffrey was already a lost cause. The only things that worried him were Cersei and Tommen.

"A merciful action, Your Grace," Ser Barristan stated.

"Do you agree, grandfather?" Galadriel asked, looking at Tywin, who nodded slowly.

"It is important to keep this in mind so that your opponents learn their lesson and never again test your resolve in the face of overwhelming odds. You must be an enemy they fear to face and an ally they wish to have," Tywin thought highly of himself as an example for his granddaughter to follow. That's not an implausible assumption, either. Galadriel did hold him up as an example to follow. He was a great teacher, and she owes much of her success to him.

"But you must as well understand that in your hands will lay the blood of thousands of soldiers," Tywin pointed out as Galadriel wondered secretly how many she should kill. I would like to make the Field of Fire small compared to this. But that would hurt my image. Galadriel pondered but simply decided to leave it to fate.

"I know, grandfather. This is war, and I only hope to end it fast."

Tywin nodded before everyone took notice of a soldier arriving at the hall. "Your Grace, my lord. A raven from our scouts. Renly's army has been spotted just entering the Crownlands, and we have spotted the Redwyne fleet at Sharp Point."

Those were the words everyone had been waiting to hear. Tywin quickly stood up, and so did the rest. Tywin glanced at his granddaughter one last time before leaving. Tywin was a man of few words.

"Ser Barristan, I trust you will take care of Mya and Gendry," Galadriel said, earning a small scoff from Gendry.

"I shall keep them in check."

Galadriel then looked at her uncle, Jaime, who seemed deep in thought—maybe, wondering about the fate of Joffrey or his own.

"Uncle, please be careful out there."

Jaime brought back his usual smirk. "Your Grace. On the field, I am unbeatable."

The tarnish of fire and blood would soon fall upon King's Landing.


Now that she was ready to ride a dragon, Galadriel headed for the island's clearing. For her, this had a certain air of childish thrill. A specific priestess, though, was waiting for her.

"Oh, I wonder what she wants from me?" Galadriel muttered, intrigued by the strange woman's behaviour.

So, with Melisandre seemingly waiting for her in the wide open field, Galadriel set forth in that direction. It was an odd encounter, to be sure, but Galadriel was beginning to think that the Red Priestess could be one of the few who had just accepted what had occurred with incredible ease. Nonetheless, it was obvious that widespread acceptance was not without foundation.

"Lady Melisandre, I thought you were with Uncle Stannis?" Galadriel asked, tilting her head.

"Lord Stannis goes to war, Your Grace. It's not the place for a priestess like me."

"He may be worried that something may happen to you," Galadriel replied, earning a chuckle from the red-haired woman.

"That may be true," Melisandre replied as she approached the young queen. "The blackness of your wings. The birth of a being from salt and smoke. I asked the Lord of Light for a sign for Azor Ahai. But it seems that in my arrogance, I mistook all the signals he gave me."

Galadriel was now slightly confused with all those words thrown at her. "Azor Ahai? The supposed hero who ended the Long Night, or that was the Essos version, says."

"The Lord of Light's chosen," Melisandre smiled as she glanced at those moving wings. "The prince that was promised. Hundreds of people thought they had met the prince. All wrong, including me. However, amidst all that confusion and misinterpretations. We finally met face to face."

"Wait," Galadriel said, raising her hands and stopping Melisandre from speaking any further. "Do you think I am the prince that was promised?"

"Princess, in this case. But trivial things like gender matter little in the grand scheme of things," Melisandre said, approaching Galadriel and taking her hands. "Your Grace, you're what we have been waiting for."

Galadriel groaned internally. It seems that people would truly believe she was a sort of messiah no matter what. Well, who cares now? It doesn't matter in any case. Let them believe whatever they want. Galadriel sighed deeply. Besides, I could use this in the future.

"Lady Melisandre, I-"

"Your Grace. We must all choose. Man or woman. Young or old. Lord or peasant. We choose light or choose darkness."

Galadriel now wondered if having such a zealous woman believe she was her prophet would be worth it. It may or may not. She would decide later.

Galadriel gazed up at the sky and shouted. "Ancalagon!" And soon enough, her dragon with the black wings emerged, accompanied by his two siblings. Galadriel had no trouble claiming the top of the dragon. It was easier than she initially thought.

"Alright, Ancalagon. Fly away."

Soon enough, Ancalagon's wings spread wide open before it pushed itself above the ground. Galadriel couldn't help but smile as she saw Dragonstone Island getting smaller. Soon, Galadriel witnessed Stannis's fleet preparing for the arrival of the Redwyne fleet on the ship. Stannis could only watch his niece. The queen slowly faded away in the distance, with her dragons following her.

"If you only listened to me before, Renly," Stannis sighed deeply, deciding not to weep more for his brother.


From the outside, King's Landing at night may make for an impressive sight. The princess undoubtedly contributed to the city's current beauty by helping to construct it. But now it was a mere shell of its former self, wracked with fear and apprehension in anticipation of the impending war.

Yet, regardless of how people saw it, deep down, on the street, the city guard, with just a few dozen of whatever Lannister's soldiers arrived in the city not too long ago to try to reinforce the city's defences, were all simply singing, drinking, and whoring, trying to think of something other than their future and possible demise.

"Yes, now the rains weep o'er his halls, and not a soul to hear!" The soldiers sang, and among them, leading the chorus, was Bronn—the new leader of the gold cloaks and unofficial commander of the King's Landing forces.

"Hey, where did you learn a Lannister's song?" One of Lannister's soldiers asked with joy as he drank his wine.

"From a drunk Lannister," Bronn replied, earning a cheer from the back.

The cheering, of course, ended abruptly as a group of mercenaries entered the small gathering, seemingly trying to partake in the festivities themselves. Bronn just leaned back on his chair, as the whore on his lap didn't like those mercenaries. None of the whores of King's Landing liked being near them, not even if they paid them. And that was saying something.

"Why stop? We hear some singing. We thought we should join in," Ser Brownbeard, the captain of the mercenary group the Five Daggers, chuckled. The man was despised by everyone, especially Bronn. Not because Bronn was a heavily moral person. But because Brownbeard was a spiteful little coward who only fought when he had the numerical advantage.

"We normally welcome friends, but that's not what I see," Bronn replied, looking at those yellow teeth of Brownbeard.

"Aren't we fighting on the same side?" Brownbeard approached Bronn while his men scattered around, seemingly trying to intimidate the rest of the gold cloaks and Lannister soldiers, but with no luck.

"On my side, no," Bronn stated, slowly standing up and guiding his hand back, on his dagger. "I have no one by my side."

"Is that so?" Brownbeard smiled widely, showing his decaying teeth, before arriving at the premise. The Hound made himself known but sneered at those mercenaries who were smart enough to make way for him.

"Maybe, he is on my side," Bronn joked as the Hound simply stared down at Brownbeard. Sandor knew that Brownbeard couldn't hold a candle to any decent swordsman. Perhaps even a peasant could kill him. Not someone worth even the effort to strike down. But those yellow teeth and that revolting smile. It was enough to send Sandor over the edge.

"What are you looking at?" Sandor grumbled as the tension could be felt across the room.

"Just watching the burned-out face of yours," Brownbeard replied with a nasty grin.

"I can give you one if you want," Sandor stated slowly. "Or maybe I'll just rip those teeth of yours and shove them right in your arse. Whatever comes first."

The tension between the three of them reached a point where a single move would've been sufficient to seed chaos, yet the bells announcing their enemy's arrival calmed things down in a twisted sense of dark humour.

The bells chimed throughout King's Landing, reverberating through every alley and plaza like a public proclamation. War was imminent, and now all that determined who would survive and who would die was willpower, guts, and good fortune. Tyrion, attempting to sport his unique armour, was among those hoping to see another day.

"I've always hated the bells," Varys stated as he looked out the windows at the city below him. Even from where he stood, he could see the hundreds of torches across the fields, preparing for the siege. It was going to be a very long night. "The ring for horror. A dead king, a city under siege."

"A wedding," Tyrion added with a scoff.

"Exactly," Varys sighed, glancing at Tyrion and his new confidant. "Podrick, is that it?"

"Is that it?" Nice touch. Like you don't know the name of every boy in town."

"I'm not entirely sure what you're suggesting," Varys replied, now feeling insulted.

"I'm entirely sure. You're entirely sure of what I'm suggesting," Tyrion only replied, much to Varys' annoyance.

"You do trust him?" Varys asked as Tyrion could only nod slightly, earning a soft smile from Podrick.

"Oddly enough, I do."

Varys hummed before pulling out a map of the many tunnels beneath King's Landing. "The map you asked for."

"There must be 20 miles of tunnels beneath this city."

"Closer to 50 miles. The Targaryen built this city to withstand a siege and to provide space if necessary."

Tyrion looked at the countless doorways between buildings and streets and nodded. It was comforting to know that if the worst came to pass, Shae and some people could escape. Despite this, he knew he would not be among the lucky few who made it out alive. Maybe, it was his negativity, but at the very least. He won't be called the dwarf who escaped. Tyrion was, after all, a Lannister.

"My beloved niece put a lot of resources into making the city a fortress. The walls are strong, and thanks to my beloved father. We have some Lannister soldiers to help us mount a good defence."

Varys nodded. "Indeed, my lord. We only lack food and supplies, but hopefully, the siege won't last long."

"I've read the letter from my father; the entire army of the Westerlands, North, Dorne, and Riverland will come down from Duskendale and meet Renly's army while they prepare the siege. The walls and gates will hold them back. Our main focus is the Redwyne fleet. They are soon approaching, and with them are large forces. We must make sure to keep the focus on us while Lord Stannis smashes them from behind."

Tyrion hummed. It was a horrible notion to be surrendered by thousands of enemies who wished you death. But Tyrion has become quite good at defying the odds.

"And how do we stop the Redwyne fleet?" Now Varys asked.

"I have prepared something for them. A big... something," Tyrion stated, still having a hard time believing he was about to use wildfire. Still, there was something that was eluding him. A sort of sensation he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Varys, has any of your little birds told you anything about our queen? My father just told me that things were different now. But, besides sounding quite mysterious, I don't know what my father meant by that."

"He supports the princess's claim now. That's clear," Varys added.

"And that is already quite hard to believe. But, my father is no fool."

Even if he didn't know, Varys' expression betrayed his distress. As of late, his little birds have gone silent. Also, there has been no word from Dragonstone. There wasn't any significant news, at least. He felt like a shroud of gloom had been drawn over the area.

"Still, I have heard nothing, my lord. But, I do believe that, soon, we will find out," Varys then glanced at Tyrion. "My lord, do you believe in the old powers?"

"Old powers?" Tyrion now glanced back at him, a bit amused. "Blood spells, curses, shape-shifting? What do you think?"

"I think you're a man who believes what he sees and in what those you trust have seen."

Tyrion then smiled before taking a sip of wine. "Lord Varys, I have seen a lot of things so far. Nothing can surprise me anymore."

"I wouldn't bet on that, my lord. We don't know what could happen. Especially when dealing with the princess. She defies reality."

"That she does," Tyrion chuckled. "Well, I'll bet fifty gold if my niece manages to hatch a dragon."

Tyrion only stated this before taking a small axe and marching down the door. Varys, for his part, wondered if, if that were a type of bet, he would like to take part after all. Dragons flying around could be quite dangerous in the future. But what does he know? Varys, currently, was a little spider with no weds to cling to.

Renly, the self-proclaimed king of the Seven Kingdoms stared at the city of King's Landing before him. After such a long time walking in the mud, rain, and sickness. He arrived at his destination. The final step towards his dreams. Yet, he noticed that no welcome party awaited him. Nothing but the sound of soldiers getting ready to defend the city and the bells announcing the upcoming battle. Renly coughed, ignoring the pain in his lungs.

The sickness plaguing the army wasn't enough to push Renly's determination away. They were sick and tired, it's true. But they were also ready to take their vengeance.

"Your Grace, orders?!" One of the lords asked as Renly quickly thought about what he should do.

"These walls are strong. We won't be able to force our way in," Renly said, then glanced at Randyll Tarly. "Lord Randyll, you'll command the forces of the Reach. Get them across the Blackwater Rush River. Take the trebuchets and battering rams and aim them at the lion's gate and the gate of the gods. We will push our way into what it was, the Mud Gate, before it was reinforced and hammer this side of the city with our catapults while we wait for the Redwyne fleet to bring the rest of the siege equipment."

Lord Randyll Tarly nodded slightly but couldn't help but dislike the idea of surrounding their city and giving their backs to an enemy they didn't know where they would attack from, especially since their forces were exhausted. "Your Grace, we haven't heard anything about Lord Tywin Lannister's forces. Can I send Lord Caswell and 5000 men to our rear as a scouting party?"

"Do it," Renly replied, putting some of Lord Randyll's worries to rest—only some.

Renly looked at the city and could feel it so close while the night and strange fog covered the Crownlands. He was sure, that, come the morning, he would be king once and for all.


High in the sky, way above anything anyone could see or even breathe. Galadriel now sat on top of Ancagalon while Scatha and Smaug flew around them. It was the perfect spot for her to witness everything unfold. She stared down, watching King's Landing encircled by her Uncle Renly's army. It was quite the sight, watching such a huge host surround the capital like ants enveloping an apple.

Galadriel could also see the united forces of the Starks, Lannister, and Tully, with a few allies from the Crownlands and Stormlands slowly approaching from way back.

"Mm, it would take them a few hours to arrive," Galadriel muttered before she heard some whining from Smaug and Scatha. "Hey, enough, both of you. I'll ride you later, alright?"

Galadriel scoffed slightly but with mild amusement before she glanced down, watching all those little dots representing people moving from one place to another. Galadriel then saw the Redwyne fleet approaching.

Galadriel trusted her uncle Tyrion, and from what her agents told her, his plan was quite sound, but it was a trick he could only play once and no more. So, the only thing he could do was do it right and take as many of the Redwyne ships as possible in order to give them more time.

"Mm, now, I do wonder how my dear brother is fairing," Galadriel muttered, but if she could guess, Joffrey would be trembling without stopping at the sight of the Redwyne fleet and how their war drums were sounding. She could hear them from where she was, although it sounded more like raindrops hitting a wooden table. But if she were a normal, mortal human being, it would be quite intimidating to hear for anyone—especially if she were on the city walls. Still, Galadriel only leaned on Ancalagon as she peered down where the Redwyne fleet was heading. They had a clear view of the shore, and if they were to land there, truthfully, Tyrion and all the people of King's Landing would be in deep problems.

"Alright, uncle, it is time to shock them."

Galadriel saw that Tyrion waited for the Redwyne fleet to approach the city before a small ship sailed across Blackwater Bay to meet them. From the looks of it, whoever was leading that fleet had little but no clue that a trap could be awaiting them since he didn't order them to shoot the lonely ship or to steer away from it. No, they just seemingly allowed the vessel to float right across them. Until Galadriel saw a very skilled archer shoot a fire arrow directly at the ship.

It seemed odd to watch the fire arrow soar in the sky, but when it landed, a greenish flame burst out from the sea as the boat was raining galleons of wildfire into the ocean. And suddenly, it was as if someone had lit a firework with a match. A huge explosion was seen from far below—a greenish fire bomb of sorts. Galadriel chuckled, watching the fair explosion and fire enveloping many ships of the Redwyne fleet, destroying a decent part of them. Clearly, the impact of the fire and surprise would put even the most experienced commander in shock.

"Well, I think everyone saw this, even you, Uncle Renly," Galadriel smirked, watching how the battle started.


Renly's eyes widened as he stared at the huge explosion devouring a part of the Redwyne fleet, and all of the soldiers just stared, stunned by the large explosion and screams coming from Blackwater Bay. Yet, while he wasn't Robert or Stannis, Renly was still a Baratheon, and his shock quickly turned into fierce determination.

"All the forces, cross the river!" Renly ordered loudly.

"Yo-Your grace? We don't have battering rams here. Lord Tarly has them."

"Then we'll use the ladders. This is a move from them, the Imps, no doubt. He used his trick, and he can't use it again. Now push! All the forces!"

Renly put on his helmet; as soon as Ser Loras and the rest of the Rainbow Guard followed their king to the battlefield. However, Ser Loras approached Renly.

"Are you sure? It's going to be chaos," Loras muttered quietly. "You're still sick!"

Renly knew that was true; he wasn't a fighter like Robert or an experienced commander like Stannis.

"I am their king; they need to see me among them. They are going to die for me. The least I can do is command them!"

Loras stared at him and just sighed deeply before Renly took Loras' hand. "You say it, remember? We all bleed. I just need to get used to it. Well, I'll bleed tonight, but I'll make sure to do it next to the man who swore loyalty to me."

Loras closed his eyes but then opened them and saw the man he dearly loved staring with a fiery determination he had never seen before.

"We'll win; our blood shall give you the crown," Ser Loras said fiercely.

"Your Grace! We have prepared a bride; our soldiers are crossing the Blackwater Rush!" A soldier said, making Renly nod.

"Good, let the catapults hammer their walls and towers! Give them all!"

On the other side of the battle, Lord Randyll Tarly's forces finally faced King's Landing's two main entrances that led to the kingsroad. It took them a few more hours than anticipated, but moving the Reach's forces and all the equipment so fast was hard.

"Prepare the trebuchets! And the siege equipment!" Randyll Tarly yelled louder. "Any word from Lord Caswell?"

"None, my lord," one soldier replied, as Randyll frowned deeply, just hating the feeling of anxiety in his bones.

"Send a rider; I want to know where he is!"

Randyll exclaimed loudly before focusing on the walls before him. "Bring down fire on the city."

The forces of all sides were slowly working against each other in more ways that met the eyes. While lord Randyll's forces were hammering the gates of King's Landing, on the other side of the city, near the bay, Tyrion shouted orders to his soldiers. The explosion's shock drifted away, and it was time for them to keep the defences intact. And Tyrion may be new to defending a city, but he felt that he was up to the task.

Tyrion glanced at the walls and saw that the Redwyne fleet wasn't moving away. They were, in fact, landing soldiers on the shore. It seemed that the shock of the explosion only lasted a few minutes. Also, from the look of the armour, he could see that Stormland's soldiers were going to push on that side of the city. "I underestimated Renly's courage. It seems that underneath that soft and perfumed skin. He is still a Baratheon," he muttered as Podrick ran at him.

"My lord!" Rodrick breathed raspily as he gasped for air. "The Reach's forces have gathered in front of the Lion's Gate and the Gate of the gods; they are marching at them with ladders, battering rams, and trebuchets!"

Now, it made sense for Tyrion. "I see. They are splitting our forces. The Reach's side is the main attack force, and this is just a distraction," he muttered, looking at the soldiers moving quickly to the side of the walls, taking advantage of the terrain to not be killed by the endless arrows and rocks falling down the walls.

"What are we going to do?" Joffrey whispered, showing that he was nothing more than a scared boy.

"We must take as many of them and take care of that bridge on the river before we are overwhelmed by soldiers."

"W-what are you talking about?! There are too many of them!" Joffrey, who was standing next to him, exclaimed.

"Hound, form a welcome party for any Baratheon troop that manages to touch solid ground."

Although the hound found it interesting that the imp was giving commands, he thought the dwarf was excellently demonstrating his leadership abilities. Moreover, he was trying to avoid being near Joffrey, who was obviously terrified by the sight of so many troops marching towards his city.

"Now, we hold," Tyrion muttered, hoping his niece's army wasn't that far away, and thankfully, he was right. He wished that not much time had to pass by before help arrived.

On Blackwater Bay, Stannis' fleet began moving quickly as the wind began to push them forward to where the Redwyne fleet was. It seemed the element of surprise was still on their side.

Stannis quickly looked at the fire from the Redwyne fleet ships that the explosion had caught. If he were honest, the imp had indeed surprised him with that trick. At the very least, he knew how to defend a city. However, they were still heavily outnumbered. But not for long.

"Prepare the groups for landing," Stannis glanced at Ser Barristan, Gendry, and Mya. They already knew what their mission was. Quickly, they moved to the boats before Stannis' fleet met with the rest of the Redwyne.

"Sound the drums!" Stannis yelled loudly. "Prepare the harpoons, and prepare for war!"

Stannis quickly removed his cloak, and the rest of the sailors began preparing for the upcoming battle. They had the element of surprise on their side and the knowledge that soon, the war would come to a sudden end from the sky. The horror of hundreds of years comes back alive.


Lord Randyll, from his part of the wall, could see how the trebuchets were hammering the city. Still, it wasn't nearly enough to force those walls to give in or to bring panic to the defenders. Their only hope was to break the gates. But then again, if they lose the battering rams, they may have to use the ladders. And that would kill a lot of soldiers. Randyll sighed deeply, watching the fire inside the city, thanks to the trebuchets. Hopefully, they won't have to destroy the entire city in order to win but battle. But, Randyll would not be the one failing in his duty.

"Any word from Lord Caswell?" Randyll yelled again, but none of his soldiers could give him the answer he wanted. "Where is he?" He hissed, not liking leaving his back exposed, and his fears were well placed as suddenly a rider approached him.

"My lord!" The knight exclaimed. "Reports from the Blackwater Bay! Forces have arrived! It's Stannis!"

Randyll hissed deeply. "So, he is here," he muttered, watching how slowly their battering rams were doing their job. The gates weren't the same as before. Now they were heavy, with iron reinforcement. It would take a lot of work to put those things down. And from where he could see, the soldiers on the walls were doing a great job at keeping the Reach's soldiers from taking control of King's Landing's walls. Randyll felt that time wasn't on their side anymore.

A loud trumpet resounded throughout the field. There were quite a few, in fact, and Lord Tarly was familiar with each one. Yet, it wasn't until he saw a battered and weary knight riding towards him that he understood the nature of the message he delivered.

"My lord! We are under attack! Lord Caswell's forces were decimated near Hayford Castle!"

"How many?!" Randyll yelled back at the knight.

"50,000 men at least!"

The lord of Horn Hill spat on the ground before he got on his horse. "Sound the horns!" Randyll knew he had to move the soldiers in parallel lines to have a defence line. But if the enemies were that close to them, maybe it was already too late. Nevertheless, Randyll Tarly wasn't one to shake under the pressure of the battlefield. Nor one that lets fear command his actions. Whipping everyone, he forced his soldiers to move quickly. He let some forces keep pushing into the city while guiding the rest to the open field. Hoping that a good line of defence would stop the enemy from completely smashing them. The Reach's soldiers followed his orders and were able to mount a decent line. The sounding of horses riding towards them was loud.

"Move! Move! Spears and shields! Spears and shields! Archers behind!"

Soon, the Reach's forces, who were not near the walls of King's Landing, formed lines all over the field, and the soldiers saw them in the distance, getting closer to them. The large army awaits closing the distances.

Randyll had no idea how the Starks, Lannisters, Martells, and Tullys united their forces without knowing. How was that possible? Lord Tarly had no clue. Yet, it wasn't time for him to think of that. The only thing he could do was lead these men into war and win.

But sadly for Lord Tarly, victory wasn't going to be achieved.

Tyrion simply couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Stannis' fleet arriving. He saw the ships colliding with each other on the bay and the fighting beginning. They weren't out of danger yet. Thankfully, Stannis' forces were also landing on the shore, at least bringing some help to their exhausted lines. But Joffrey's cowardice has led him to follow Cersei's sudden command to see him. However, he wonders where Joffrey could be. Honestly, he didn't care at all. It now fell into his hands to command the counterattack.

"Well, I did bring an axe," Tyrion muttered before leading his men to the Mud Gate.

The combat in the harbour continued to be as brutal as it had been from the outset. Baratheon's soldiers continued to advance relentlessly and were told not to stop until victory was assured. Fortunately, though, the city's defenders were not so different. The Hound swung his weapon, slashing through lines of Renly's soldiers. Nonetheless, it seemed to go on forever. But, it was the fire that finally forced him to stop. Basically everywhere. Around the bay, on the ships, and burning some of the poor soldiers.

The Hound froze as he saw one of those soldiers run at him, covered in fire, shrieking in agony and desperation.

Sandor almost fell backwards, snapping back from the trance he was in. Yet, a sudden arrow stopped that man from attacking him. He then glared to his right and saw a sudden smirk, and it wasn't from a man but a woman.

Mya smirked at him as the rest of the soldiers from Stannis arrived and began to push Renly's forces.

"What is it, dog? Afraid of fire?" Mya smirked as she began to use her unnatural's archer skill to kill poor Stormland's forces from a distance.

"Eat shit," the Hound replied, shocked, before watching a sudden man wearing a bull helmet swing his warhammer around with one hand as easily as waving a stick.

"Are you tired, Clegane?" Gendry teased, following his half-sister's jokes. "Would you like me to bring you some iced milk and a nice bowl of raspberries?"

Sandor genuinely didn't want the two bastard siblings to make fun of him. He simply growled before sliding a soldier in half in pure anger. "Cunts! Annoying cunts!"

Mya simply chuckled as Gendry shook his head in amusement. Yet, soon enough, they saw a large group of soldiers arriving. And leading them was Tyrion Lannister, who looked quite strange in full armour. Yet, the imp was quite a capable fighter. Maybe, it could mean that no one expected someone so small to suddenly arrive. But it worked, as Tyrion cut down a soldier's foot before hammering his axe down on his face.

"Attack!" Tyrion yelled as the soldiers launched themselves at the surprised forces of Renly, who did not expect yet another force to arrive in their direction.

"Lord Tyrion? Shouldn't you be on the walls?" Gendry asked him as the battle raged around them.

"Well, I decided to take some glory for myself," Tyrion breathed heavily, trying not to be stamped to death like last time.

"Where is my nice?" Tyrion exclaimed quite quickly, evading a sword. He blocked it masterfully but almost fell. Thankfully, Mya killed the man quickly. Tyrion groaned as he used his small axe to chop off a man's hand before Gendry finished it off with a clean hit on the head. Smashing all the bones in his skull.

"Is she safe?" Tyrion asked, exhausted from the few minutes he had been in the fight.

Gendry scoffed, but it was a sort of amusing huff. "You have no idea."

Tyrion didn't know what to think of it, but he soon stopped when he heard a sudden, loud noise that he didn't recognise. It was a loud, shrieking sound. A roar was so loud that his ears hurt. It was at that moment that Tyrion saw something that he had never thought possible. Dragon, but not just one, but three. Flying around, burning their enemies to ashes. But he quickly spotted someone riding a dragon—a certain queen with snowy white hair.

It was at that moment that Tyrion realised that he shouldn't have bet those fifty gold dragons.


Joffrey was running around the walls of the Red Keep. However, a certain Lannister with golden hair was following him.

"Your Grace!" Lancel Lannister exclaimed as he followed Joffrey, who seemed too troubled and afraid of the screaming. "The battle-your soldiers need you!"

"Leave me alone!" Joffrey screamed at him, breaking his voice. "I-I need to be alone. Tell my mother that I don't need to be told what to do!"

Lancel, hearing the noises from outside, simply groaned before leaving the king alone, who found a way into his room before locking himself inside. There, Joffrey simply leaned on the door while he tried to calm his heart. He realised he was being a coward. But he didn't want to die.

Joffrey moved towards the table, and drank the wine that was there, served for him; he didn't even notice how strange that was. Joffrey simply sighed before sitting on the chair.

"This is all her fault! If she-if she weren't born, no one of this would've happened!" Joffrey exclaimed filly with rage and humilliation.

However, Joffrey's attention was drawn by the sudden sensation of someone watching him. The young king then glanced at the edge of the room and saw a man standing there—a Lannister soldier with a helmet hiding his face.

"What are you doing?!" Joffrey exclaimed, standing quickly. But the soldier didn't say anything.

"I command you to answer to your king!" Joffrey yelled one more time, but again. He didn't answer, and that made Joffrey feel afraid.

And soon, Joffrey felt something hitting his neck. It was a dart, and before Joffrey could even scream. He fell to the ground, choking for air. The last thing Joffrey ever heard was a man whispering into his ear.

"Valar Morghulis."


High above, Galadriel watched the battle on the ground with so much joy. Total war was something she missed watching. Not since her father's war has Galadriel experienced something so beautiful for her. There was truly something wonderful at the thought of watching history being made in front of her eyes that couldn't compare to anything she has done so far, and all those years of scheming had led to this moment right now, where she would change history for all times.

"It's what I do now that will be remembered for centuries to come," Galadriel smiled as she patted the back of Ancalagon. "It's time. Ancalagon, Scatha, and Smaug don't burn our allies. But do enjoy the hunt."

The three dragons beamed at those words, and Galadriel smiled as she felt Ancalagon diving down, just like his two siblings. Galadriel felt a sort of excitement, feeling the rush of the air hit her face and hair. Soon enough, the three dragons' roar created an echo across Blackwater Bay that seemed to have frozen time since, currently, the number of people who knew about them was minimal. Yet, now, such a thing is no longer the case.

Soon as the moonlight shone down upon Blackwater Bay, three huge shadows emerged, shocking the world once again. Galadriel looked at the Redwyne's ships and decided to help her dear Uncle Stannis.

"Smaug!" Galadriel pointed at the ships, and Smaug obeyed. The red-scaled dragon opened his mouth, and fire came down fast. Three ships were burned right away. Galadriel's dragon wasn't allowing mercy to dictate his actions. Soon enough, she began to change this focus to the rest of the fleet.

"You too, Scatha, Ancalagon," Galadriel ordered, deciding to burn as many ships as necessary to end the battle of the bay. Ship after ship was burned down, as the Arbor sailors chose to jump into the water and surrender rather than face those giant creatures. They were no fools, and they knew that whatever prospect of loyalty was done and over the moment, dragons came into the picture.

Galadriel looked over and saw her uncle's ship. "What does he have to look so unhappy all the time?" She muttered, amused at the sight of her uncle's expressionless face. Galadriel simply tapped Ancalagon's back and guided him to the city, where they would show everyone that they were back. It was truly at that moment that Galadriel noticed that her dragons had quite the diva attitude. They didn't just fly around King's Landing; they truly spread their wings wide open, roaring every time. They seemed to be enjoying the shock of the soldiers who were watching them. They were making poses of intimidation. She even saw, Scatha licking his large teeth for some reason. Smaug had a smug face or something like that.

At that moment, Galadriel wondered if something was wrong with her dragons.

"Well, they are my children, after all," Galadriel muttered amusedly before going to the battlefield, where her grandfather awaited her.

Soon enough, Galadriel saw the complete pandemonium going on before King's Landing, where the entire army of the Reach was facing off with her own army. She would have loved to be there, and she simply rejoiced at the madness of it. But she couldn't allow the death of her allies. For now, that was. So, she allowed her dragons to burn as they pleased. They were spreading their winds, after all, and had no qualms about just watching with joy at the lines of raw fire being drawn on the battlefield. However, it wasn't random. Galadriel wanted to make sure no one escaped the hellfire.

Yet, she also didn't want to outright kill everyone. No, just enough to send a message.

"Scatha!" Galadriel called as the silver-winged dragon glanced at his mother. "Fly to the side of the river; burn the forest; don't let anyone escape."

Scatha's comprehension surprised Galadriel as the dragon nodded at her.

"Oh, so they can understand me? But how much?" Galadriel wondered, intrigued, but soon focused on the battlefield below her.

Galadriel saw Lannister's forces march right to the enemy, who were trying to leave the battlefield. No doubt, Tywin was using the shock of the dragon, appearing to keep on pushing them back. Then, on the side, Galadriel saw, getting closer to the walls of King's Landing, Robb Stark fighting while waiving his father's ancestral sword. He no doubt wanted to rush to the castle and save his little sister. An action Galadriel couldn't blame him for doing. Cersei and Joffrey could be quite spontaneous with their stupidity.

However, Galadriel soon felt a nudge in her mind and knew what it was immediately.

"{Sebas, is that you?}" Galadriel asked before hearing the voice of Sebas.

"{Yes, my lady. I am currently at King's Landing searching for the prince and have found him. Although, I regret to announce that the king is dead.}

That stopped Galadriel. Wait that can't happen! I was supposed to torture Joffrey a little bit. I was supposed to be there, to watch him lose all he holds dear! He needed to watch me take everything from him as he cried! To watch him be driven mad! Galadriel growled deeply, wondering who had the gall to take her fun away. She let out a frustrated muffled scream, hating the fact that one thing she wanted to do, was way beyond her grasp. It was all too anticlimactic. It wasn't the way things were supposed to be.

To die off-screen during a battle, as if he were...! Galadriel's anger rose up, and her dragons could feel it.

"{Have you found anyone responsible for it or how he died?} Galadriel hissed furiously.

"{I'm sorry, my lady, but from what I see. The king was killed while hiding away. I see no killer; he is long gone. But it seems that the one who killed him used a dart.}"

Galadriel took a deep breath, realising that in the new world, sometimes things don't go according to plan, and there was nothing she could do.

"He didn't deserve to die alone, where no one could see him," Galadriel muttered. "People deserved to spit on his body at least while he was alive, begging for mercy. Well, it doesn't matter now."

"{Leave him there. Someone has to find him. Try to conceal yourself, Sebas. Make sure to stop my mother if she tries something stupid.}"

"{Understood, my lady.}"

"{Also, hunt down the mercenaries group Joffrey brought. I'll send a Shadow demon to guide you. Don't let them leave the city.}"

"{As you wish, my lady.}"

Galadriel sighed deeply, feeling disappointed that she couldn't get away with torturing her brother a little bit. She could use [Revive], maybe a scroll, or anything. But that would ruin it for Galadriel. It wasn't the same.

"Sorry for hitting you, Ancalagon," Galadriel muttered, slowly caressing her dragon's back. Galadriel then glanced around and saw that the fire and destruction were enough for the battle to end. There wasn't much she could, do besides burning even the corpses.

"Well, there's still Renly. I wonder if he would also die on me."

Galadriel muttered before guiding her dragon to the shore.


Renly's forces were trying to retreat across the river and into the Kingswood in a last desperate attempt to save their lives. But Scatha was burning their escape route. The Kingswood was on fire, and whoever was naive enough to think otherwise soon met their fate there.

Renly was being carried by Ser Loras and Brienne of Tarth, who were the last two living members of the Rainbow Guard. An arrow had hit him on the side of his ribs. Yet, he was still alive, barely but alive. However, all Renly could do was watch the dragon above them. There was no doubt to whom they belonged. He knew it the moment he heard them roar.

"Dragons, who would have thought? You outdid yourself, niece," Renly whispered as Loras quickly put him on the ground.

"He's bleeding! Someone! Bring a measter! NOW!" Loras yelled with all his lungs. "HELP! YOUR KING IS DYING!"

Loras' yells were just one of many across the field of burning bodies. It was everyone for themselves. They weren't soldiers any more but frightened men running for their lives.

"Renly, look at me! It's going to be alright, you hear me? I'll get you out of here. We are going to leave to Highgarden, w-w-we are-!"

Loras was at a loss for words since he had no clue what was going to happen. It was over; he knew it, but a part of him still couldn't bear to think of life without Renly. For her part, Brienne was unable to come up with a strategy to save her king. Maybe they knew the end was coming and were simply waiting for it.

"You would've been a great king," Loras whispered, unable to stop his tears. Renly only chuckled painfully.

"No," Renly whispered, watching a large dragon fly above him. He could sense it. The smell, that odour of death that Robert told him so much about. The sensation of knowing when one will die. He never understood. But now he did. "She's going to be a great queen. That's why Robert made her the true heir."

Renly breathed painfully. "She's truly amazing, eh? My niece? But she will be surrounded by lions and no more stags."

Renly hissed in pain and was slowly losing consciousness. He wondered if things were different. Maybe he could have been next to her instead of against her. What a fool I am. I could've been there, next to you, Galadriel, not underneath you. Renly thought, incredibly tired. His eyes were slowly closing, and he had barely any strenght left to even speak.

"A healer! Where are they?!" Loras screamed again, but no one answered. "Please, Renly, don't leave me!"

Renly smiled softly at him. "I am sorry, my love. It seems it was never meant to be."

Renly's breathing began to sound dimmer. His eyes were slowly becoming crystal clear. The blood was all over the place. It seems that the arrow pierced a lung and was fatal.

"Loras, please, don't die because of me. Live."

Loras held Renly's hand as he stared at the man he loved, slowly drifting away.

A contingent of troops was on their way there shortly. As the soldiers looked their way, Brienne and Loras drew their swords and pointed at them. Among them, Mya, Gendry, and Ser Barristan stood there. They looked weary, exhausted, and covered in dirt, blood, and ashes. But they were still ready to fight, which was something neither Loras nor Brienne could admit they had the energy to do.

"Yield, my lord, is over," Ser Barristan whispered softly.

Loras stared at Renly one more time before he glanced at Brienne. He sighed painfully before throwing his sword to the ground. Brienne did the same. "I yield."

And with a loud roar from the sky came the announcement that the battle was over.


On the battlefield, or what was left of it, the dead bodies of thousands of soldiers lay there, as those who survived were either screaming for help or slowly sailing to the stranger's hand. Galadriel landed near the entrance of King's Landing, where she saw the lords who survived the onslaught. Still, she was not surprised to see Lord Randyll Tarly among them, who seemed utterly shocked to see her, just like every other lord. Galadriel spread her black wings for everyone to see.

"Lord Randyll Tarly, this is the first time we have met. But, my father did speak highly of your prowess as a commander," Galadriel's voice sounded angelic, perhaps too much. "A shame that this is the way we met."

Lord Randyll couldn't speak, nor could the rest. Galadriel knew, of course, why there was such selective muteness. So, she decided not to push too hard. Galadriel then walked through the streets of King's Landing, as the civilians were just watching her in awe, shock, and divinity. Galadriel wanted to show everyone that she was more than just a young little girl. Now, Galadriel was more. Of course, Galadriel's plan was foiled by the fact that her brother was killed by what she suspected was either a runaway soldier or a faceless man. And Renly was pretty much killed by a random arrow.

It was quite annoying. Galadriel had all this plan about a grand trial, where she would show everyone how merciful she was. Galadriel would expose Joffrey's crime and more. Renly would be shown mercy and live the rest of his days on the wall. She had prepared a large show, but now it was all useless.

"I should've known that war can be quite chaotic," Galadriel muttered, deciding to simply change her approach.

Soon, a small little girl approached her. Galadriel noticed everyone looking at her as she stood in the middle of the street.

"My princess? Is that you?" The little girl, who was covered in dirt, asked her. Galadriel suddenly smiled at the girl.

"Yes, I am," Galadriel replied softly.

"Why do you have wings?" The little girl asked. Now Galadriel knelt before her, slowly caressing the girl's head.

"So, I can look out for cute little girls like you."

The little girl's mouth opened in shock, which was quite cute to see if Galadriel was honest.

"Then, is the bad king gone? Are the bad people not coming back?"

Galadriel looked at the people around her, who were getting closer to her. She spread her wings and looked at them as she picked up the little girl in order to make for a better scene. "No. The bad people are not coming back. You know why?"

The girl shook her head at Galadriel, who spread her wings towards her. "Because I am here now."

Soon the people came rushing to her, praying to her and witnessing up close Galadriel's wings. Some were praying; others were calling it a divine message from the Gods. Others were simply glad it was all over. It didn't really matter truly. Galadriel knew that her work was just starting.

I have a lot to do now.

Galadriel took a deep breath, slowly focusing on the task at hand. The war may be over, but her work has yet to be finished.


Authors note.

-To the user DeathAdder47117!

Yes, thought about those names, but I wasn't sure until now. I think they really fit. Also, they are quite unique. Thank you.

-Also, about the Night King and the White Walkers. I am trying to use what we know of them. I know they aren't the same and that in the books, the White Walkers, or as they are called, "The Others" are different from the ones in the show. But I am trying to use what we know of them, which is not a lot. Hopefully, the next book will come soon. Hopefully.

-Galadriel will not start using spells left, right and centre, so don't worry. I know what I am writing, have faith.