A/N: EDIT: Not a lot of feedback this time around, it seems...more's the pity, I suppose. T_T
Still, that said...SURPRISE! AN EARLY UPDATE! It took two days despite the site glitches, but here I am. Do let me know if you'd like another early one~!
After all, I did say I would endeavor to update this story twice a week if the chapters receive a lot of feedback. Lets see if we can do that again, shall we? I was feeling particularly inspired after that penultimate episode Now that we know what the dragons Vermithor and Silverwing properly look like in the show, I can kick this story into high gear.
And the end of that episode! *chef's kiss* Brilliant!
Advent helped immeasurably with this chapter as well, massive kudos to him as always. We should have Dance of the Dread ready soon, as well. I have a plan for Claws of the Lion as well.
I really, truly want each chapter of this story to feel like an actual House of the Dragon episode on all fronts. Hopefully I succeeded.
As ever, I own no references, quotes, themes or memes. They're tributes to legends far greater than little 'ol me.
I'm just a humble author trying to make his way in this wild world, one word at a time.
Time and feedback will determine the update speed of this story. Simple as that.
In other words...its up to YOU, the reader. Do let me know~!
Brace yourself. This IS Game of Thrones, after all...
Epic (the musical) references is obvious.
Really suited the theme here.
Also some lines I'm sure you'll recognize from the show...
Here's Daemon! And the infamous scene from episode one, turned on its head...
"And so the Tower begins to crumble...
~?
I Am the Storm
Something was wrong.
Viserys knew it the moment he laid eye on Daemon; even safely surrounded by his Kingsguard and securely seated upon the Iron Throne as he was, he couldn't quite quell the sudden urge of dread he felt when he saw his brother's bloody visage.
Someone had cut his cheek, but that wasn't the worst of it; no and nay, he looked absolutely livid. At the time, when he had sent a servant demanding a meeting, alone, he'd thought little of it and accepted it without hesitation. But now...
He'd come to him in full armor, Dark Sister resting at his side, face carved from stone.
Viserys was suddenly glad he'd elected to bring Blackfyre today, gladder still he'd begun training in the art of the sword.
Something told him he just might need those lessons today.
Daemon stopped just shy of the Kingsguard before the throne. His eyes were bleak, countenance darker still.
Viserys took the initiative. "Brother. To what do I owe the pleasure."
Daemon turned dark eyes upon him. "Did you send them?"
.
..
...pardon?
Viserys blinked, somewhat baffled by the sudden inquiry as much as the accusation implied therein. He was the one sitting the Throne, he was the one surrounded by no less than four Kingsguard, he was King, and yet, for a moment, it almost felt as though all these things were wrested away from him.
In the end, it left him wearing a somewhat baffled look. "I don't know what you mean."
Daemon made an aggravated noise bordering on a snarl. "Speak plainly or I will rip that crown from your head and beat you to death with it."
Viserys reared back; it was so unlike his brother to threaten him like this; so much so that he found himself momentarily at a loss for words. But he did not relent. Straightening atop the throne -and careful not to cut his hand upon it- he fixed his sibling with a steely look. "You are addressing your king. Choose your words wisely."
Daemon did not. "The King sends his regards." he all but spat the last word as though it were the blackest of curses. "Did you send them?
"Send who?" his brow furrowed. "Perhaps it is you who should speak plainly; I don't know what you're talking about."
"Someone sent four men to my quarters in the hour of the wolf to kill me while I was asleep. They failed. I've left the bodies where they lay." He shook his head with a disbelieving scoff even as Viserys was left to reel by the sudden declaration. "The last one told me they were sent by you. Do you deny the deed?"
What madness was this?
Did he truly think he would commit such a base act?
"I do deny it!" he lurched to his feet, leaning upon Blackfyre. "I would never wish harm upon you!"
"And yet these assassins penetrated the Red Keep, slipped past the guards, and somehow made it into my bedchamber uncontested.
"I am wounded by this as much as you!" Daemon truly thought he had a hand in this. Anger turned to hurt, warping his words further. "You have no allies at court but me, I have only ever defended you-
"Have you?" his younger brother hissed like Caraxes himself. "You've only ever tried to send me away! To the Vale, to the city watch! Anywhere but by your side! More than ten years you've been king, yet not once have you asked me to be your hand!"
Incredulous, Viserys reared up. "Why would I do that?"
Daemon glared bloody red daggers at him. "Because I'm your brother! And the blood of the dragon runs thick!"
He flung up his good arm with an exasperated shout. "Then why do you cut me so deeply with these baseless accusations?!"
"Are they baseless, brother?" Daemon edged closer, causing the Kingsguard to block him, swords half-drawn. "Or are they the truth?" He leaned past them to stare at him, unfazed by the implicit threat of violence. "While you let Rhaenyra and Naruto hare off into the Stepstones I was vulnerable. Exposed. The only reason I know he didn't have anything to do with was because he bothered to heal me. Again! Someone has been trying to kill me for months now; if not you, then who?"
"You dare...?"
Viserys rose from his throne, ears ringing.
In the distance, he became dimly aware of Vermithor's roar.
His temper stirred with it and a dark urge rose within him. He wanted to lash out at Daemon, to hurt him, as he himself had been hurt. Here at last, a flicker of concern crossed Daemon's face. His anger fed on it, goading him forward, urging him storm down the steps, sword in hand and...!
...but no, he was better than this.
With a supreme effort of will, Viserys forced himself to sit once more.
"You are my brother! My blood! I would sooner lop off my hands than harm you!"
Daemon turned away with a growl. "I've only ever spoken the truth, you know that. And if by some terribly slim chance you didn't do this, then only one man possesses both the method or the means; only one person who would benefit from a battle between us." he stepped forward, jabbing a finger his way, causing the Kingsguard to bridle anew, though he paid them little heed. "Swear to me on our mother's memory, that you had nothing to do with this and swear it true."
Viserys saw the road where his words led and chose them with great care. "I swear to you, on Alyssa's memory."
Daemon glared at him; he forced himself to meet his gaze until the rogue prince was satisfied.
A moment passed. Then another. Another. And still the tension mounted...
.
..
...At length, his brother relented. "...I believe you."
"Wonderful."
Viserys dropped his blade, waved his guards down, heedless of their protests, rose from the throne, and descended the steps to meet his brother. Daemon didn't resist, even when he clapped a hand on his shoulder and drew him close. He pulled him into a brisk embrace and laid his head upon his shoulder, patting his back once. His brother could've knifed him, then. A small part of him still feared that he would. Take this moment of brotherly love and use it to rip his life away. If that was to be his fate, then so be it. He braced himself for the cold sting of flesh in his gut.
It never came.
Incredibly, his younger brother stepped back and chose a different avenue of attack. "Otto Hightower is responsible for this, then; I see him for what he is."
A lying, treacherous snake who nearly killed Aemma and sought to put his blood upon our Throne?
Careful, now. Mustn't reveal his hand to early. "And what is that?"
"A c * * t." Daemon spat upon the floor. "A second son who inherits nothing he doesn't seize for himself. He doesn't protect you! I would!"
He didn't miss the pleading note in his voice. "From what?"
"Our enemies and yourself!" Daemon thumped his shoulder. "You may have grown stronger since last we spoke, but not strong enough. That council of leeches still preys upon you for their own ends and you let them!"
A silver brow rose. "Just as you nearly let someone drive a wedge between us?"
Daemon faltered and glared at the floor. He'd been the best at many things, but never apologies.
Viserys heaved a heartfelt sigh, feeling his age more than ever. "What would you have me do, brother?"
Dark anger gleamed anew in his brother's gaze. "String up the Hightowers up and feed them to our dragons, as all traitors should be!"
"If I did as you wished, it would mean the end of Oldtown! The half the realm would revolt and the other half would see us for nothing more than monsters!"
"We must do something!"
Hot-blooded as always.
"And we will."
Viserys glanced about. The throne room remained quite empty, save the Kingsguard, each of whom were loyal, each of whom he trusted with his life.
And yet Criston Cole stood amongst their number tonight. Rhaenyra had notably left him behind when she sailed to the Stepstones with Naruto and the Lord Commander Westerling. Why? Something nagged at him when he looked upon the young man, and, just this once, he decided to err on the side of caution. Better safe than sorry, as the saying went:
"Leave us and seal the doors until I say otherwise."
The young man in questioned balked at his command. "Your grace, is that wise-
"I said leave us!" he shouted at the lot of them. "Obey your king!"
When faced with a direct command, they reluctantly obeyed.
One by one they left, and closed the doors behind them.
Viserys counted to three, to make certain none would listen. Only then did he dare beckoned Daemon closer so that they might speak privately. "I have a plan. Though you may misslike me for it...
His brother had never been one to balk at mad plans and he didn't now, bless him. "It matters not wheter I dislike it, so long as it keeps those Hightower vultures at bay!"
"Or distracted." Viserys hedged his words a moment more and, growing weary of it, decided to take the plunge. "Can I trust you, Daemon?"
Something flashed across the younger man's face, there and gone before he could decipher it. Was it his imagination, or did his brother stand a bit taller just now? Surely that was his imagination. He had no real way of knowing; of realizing just how long, -just how terribly long- Daemon had waited to hear those five little words.
Nor how things would change from here on out.
"Of course you can trust me." his brother thumped a fist to his chest. "Whatever you need. Anything at all."
Good, good. Those words were exactly what he'd wanted to hear, no, even better.
The King smiled, and his was the smile of a dragon. "Anything you say...?"
Daemon squinted at him. "What are you up to, brother...?"
Viserys beckoned him closer and told him of the Grand Plan in no simple terms.
"I need you and your gold cloaks to collect-
The rest was lost in a whisper.
Daemon whistled. "A bold move."
"But a necessary one. Before that, we need more allies."
Daemon considered him for a long moment, sizing him up. "And what manner of allies are those?"
Viserys dared to whisper anew in his ear. His brother caught on at once, bless him, and nearly laughed outright.
Even then, he leaned back with a feral smile. "Otto will lose his mind when he learns of this; if he doesn't die from sheer shock."
What a happy day that would be; but alas, fate was seldom so kind.
"Don't let him realize, then. Well," he amended with a grievous grin, "not until it's too late. Best to keep him occupied until the last moment. So long as he's distracted by this smokescreen, he won't realize the real danger in time."
"Rhaenyra will be glad of the end result, I think."
A rueful smile swept over his face. "Indeed she will; I daresay she'll be delighted."
Theirs was a markedly simple scheme; the best ones often were. Father would've been proud.
And that was another ugly thought. Baelon had been in his prime when he died. Dragon rider to Vhagar, and hand of the king, the very peak of physical fitness. How did a man like that die from a burst belly? His death had shocked them all at the time and had not Otto become Hand of the King shortly thereafter?
Had he poisoned him...? No, surely not. Surely his ambition could not stretch back so far...or could it?
"You surprise me, brother." Daemon said suddenly, distracting him.
He looked his way. "How so?"
A grin was his reward. "You're more vicious than I thought."
Viserys thumped him on the back. "Behave yourself. I need them alive."
His brother sketched a less than courtly bow before him. "But of course, Your Grace."
(.0.0.0.)
Caraxes lifted his long neck with an ululating trill as Daemon drew near.
At long last, some action!
Time for blood!
(.0.0.0.)
Vermithor grew restless.
He had never been idle for long, even during his youth with Jaehaerys. It was simply not in his nature.
His moniker was the Bronze Fury; it was not in him to remain still.
And yet still he waited waited. Waited, waited, waited.
He was weary of this waiting.
In truth, he and Silverwing had been waiting for a terribly long time since the death of their last riders, Now they had them once again, as they had in the Old Days, but it just wasn't the same. He longed to test himself, to rend and rip challengers as he once had long ago with Jaehaerys.
Thankfully, his new rider wasn't weak.
Viserys might often be silent, but the man held a rage all his own, a dragon deep within him. Seldom did it stir, but when it did...
.
..
...well. Vermithor hoped it would stir soon. He was so terribly bored.
While his mate happily watched over their latest clutch -many strong hatchlings would surely arise from her eggs!- he himself longed for action, aching for the battles and the war to come. Fire and blood, blood and battle, battle and bone, the crunch of death enemies in his jaws once again as he tore the world asunder with naught but his jaws and his breath...!
Vhagar understood the call of combat. But he hadn't seen the wizened elder in decades. He wasn't even sure the hoary old lizard was still alive.
Syrax was lucky. His wild golden daughter was haring off to the Stepstones with her rider while HE-
A sudden commotion near the entrance of his lair drew his eye.
Silvering trilled softly, commanding his attention.
Curious, the old wyrm lifted his head with a low rumble of his own and squinted into the rising sun; they'd both grown far too large for the Dragonpit and had thus taken to lounging in the countryside when they weren't looking in on their brood. Still, that distant clamor caught his ears and he shook himself mightily, grumbling as his old joints protested. But old though he was, his eyes were sharp as ever. He saw the new arrivals long before they saw him.
Two riders on horseback. He recognzed them by scent, if not sight.
Viserys. And his mate? Curious.
What had brought them out here so early in the morn...?
Perhaps the King had quarreled with his brother. Perhaps not. What did it matter?
Curious, the old dragon watched him intently, growling a little as he disembarked his horse.
"Vermithor!" Much to his surprise, Viserys spoke in a deep, booming voice. "I have neglected you as of late! Shall we hunt?"
Those last three words were music to his ancient ears; they made him feel young again.
A chance to fly with his mate and burn fools?
Say the word.
(.0.0.0.)
Silverwing perked up as Aemma approached her.
The young Queen rather reminded her of her beloved Alysanne; a gentle soul with a spine of steel hidden therein. Alysanne had been a good ruler. Aemma may well succeed her.
She watched her rider dismounted her horse and stride her way with only the slightest of hesitation. Idly, she noticed young Visenya strapped to her chest in a secure harness. And there beside her in a similar leather mount made for a young dragon, baby Bayle. The black hatchling would not be separated from its partner. Good. As it should be.
Ahhh, the chance to stretch her wings and hunt once more as she had in the Days of Old! How glorious it would be!
Dragons lacked the capacity to grin, but Silvering had many other ways of expressing her boundless delight.
Her tail wagged like an eager dog as she inclined her head and lowered one wing for Aemma.
On a whim, she roved one eye down to regard the youngsters strapped to the queen's chest. Little Visenya cooed softly at the sight of her without fear, while Bayle trilled defiantly. He had spirit for so young a hatchling. It would serve him well in the battles to come. There would be many.
Silvering nudged Aemma with her snout and snorted in approval.
For her part, the queen laughed and laid a hand on the underside of her jaw, scratching her chin.
Good, good. She had trained this human well. Lower now, lower...
To her credit, the Queen showed her proper deference and -gently!- climbed atop her back, making sure to secure herself and her younglings in the saddle. Alyssa Targaryen had once done the same with her own babes while riding Meleys long ago. The Red Queen had had been quite proud that day. Now it was her turn.
Aemma took a deep breath to master herself and her nerves, and then, in High Valyrian said the words she'd been aching to hear. "Fly, please."
She did not command. She asked, as one equal might unto another. Such was why she'd chosen her.
Silverwing roared in delight and happily acceded to her request.
Vermithor joined her not a moment later.
Together, they took flight.
(.0.0.0.)
Dawn came the next day, and Naruto awoke with a raging headache.
"Anyone get the name of the punk who hit me on my head last night?" he groused.
"I would say yes, but even I cannot recall what the fuck happened, ugh, my head..." Kurama groaned in his ear.
A distant clamor caught his ear.
"You're awake?" a voice called as the tent opened, causing him to look up and see Rhaenys enter with a bemused smile, "I find myself surprised, I would have thought you'd have something to tell us."
He squinted at her, not quite comprehending. "Something to tell you...?"
"The storm, boy." she clicked her tongue at him, drawing a wince as he belatedly remembered. "it drowned a quarter of our enemies last night, enough that it actually worried the men and my Lord husband quite a bit, but witnesses state it was several leagues away. Quite a terrifying scene if their words are to go by." so speaking, she snatched up a goblet poured him some wine, "Here, you seem to have slept wrong, it should dull the ache." she said softly.
"Thanks...
He took a long sip of the offered beverage to muster his thoughts.
He remembered...fragments. Bits and pieces. The voices, the power, the storm...
.
..
...but there was a gap. As though he'd forgotten something, something terribly important.
Hmm. He was sure it would return to him give time, once this migraine ceased.
Belatedly, a thought occurred to him. "Where's Rhaenyra run off to?"
"She's out doing some scouting of her own before we head out ourselves." the elder woman told him. "She should be back within the hour."
A distant clamor put paid to that.
"Or within the next few minutes." she amended with a bemused smile. "Such a restless girl...
Grimacing, he sat up, frowning a little at his still-damp clothes. "So, do we have a plan? I mean, aside from throwing me at the enemy forces of course. I'm sure some of the other's wanna get some of this work done themselves without having to rely on me for everything...
"The men will be sent to another enclave of the islands to do their part in the battle to come. My duty is to work next to my son and cousin in burning out the surrounding caves. My husband will be leading the men personally into battle at a junction to wait in ambush for our enemies." she paused, waiting for his nod, then continued, "As for you, your task remains simple; continue your path of destruction, crush the surrounding mountains and use your massive "friend" to ensure they cannot scurry away like the craven's that they are. I daresay yourrs is the hardest job of all."
"Well, let's grab a bite to eat before we set out then, shall we?" he smirked.
Syrax lowed in the distance, drawing a laugh.
"Should probably feed the dragons, too." Thoughtlessly, he began to remove his shirt, only to pause once he realized Rhaenys hadn't left yet. "Erm...do you mind?"
"Calm yourself," she laughed. "its nothing I haven't seen before."
He flushed. "...you're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"A little."
Rhaenys chuckled and left the way she'd come, leaving him to find warm -and hopefully dry!- clothes to change into.
Red and black, of course. He wasn't surprised. Only made sense that Rhaenyra would pick those for him; the better to bring him into her House.
A brisk breakfast saw him suitably refreshed; by the time he'd finished, he knew Rhaenyra was looking for him; if only because could sense her presence roving around the camp, with Syrax lingering further behind.
Gah, Syrax. Although still smaller than Meleys, she'd begun growing in haste since the princess began letting her range further and further from the dragonpit.
He knew better than to come near her without a proper offering.
A wave of his hand conjured a pair of shadow clones, who were soon sent to fetch and deliver her a fresh basket of fish...maybe two. She was getting big, nearly as big as Caraxes.
Speaking of shadow clones, he was pleased to find that there were no reports from the ones he'd left in King's Landing. He'd know if someone managed to take them out, and likewise their memories and emotions would become his.
But nothing from the capital. After healing Daemon again and the latter's refusal have a minder of any sort, he'd discreetly moved several disguised clones to watch over Viserys and Aemma while keeping an eye on the Small Council. Nothing seemed amiss on that front so far.
He was still mulling over the matter when he spied Rhaenyra, over the next rise. Belatedly, he realized she was still wearing her armor, though she'd thankfully removed her helmet and let her hair fly free in the salt air. It did her much good; truth be told he thought she looked rather nice like this...
The princess seemed to be issuing orders to a number of soldiers; he hung back and let her bloom under the burdens of command.
In the end, his hesitation was for naught; she caught sight of him a moment later and a wry grin blossomed upon her face.
"That will be all," she dismissed those under her command. "Acquit yourselves well and do your best to survive. I have faith in you."
Many of the men preened under her praise and he felt an ugly root of jealousy twine around his heart. He stomped it down as they bowed curtly and departed.
Rhaenyra reached him a moment later. "There you are." She took one look at his attire and pouted, as only a princess could. "You're to set out again?'
...pretty much, yeah."
She huffed at that, not at all pleased. "They rely overmuch on you."
"I know." He kissed her cheek, humming a little now as she leaned into him and returned it. "Still not going to tell me what Alicent said?"
She leaned back with a smile, teeth flashing as she shook her head.
"Its a good thing you're cute...
She draped her arms around his neck. "I prefer beautiful."
"Just as I prefer an answer." He retorted, not letting her wriggle out of this.
"And I would prefer not to be here in the stinking Stepstones." she delivered a quick peck to his cheek to better get her message across. "The things we do for love."
Gah! She threw that word around far too easily! He flushed, but, never one to back down from a challenge, gave as good as he got. "Love, is it? I just want you for your dragon."
Syraz trilled indignantly in the background. Rhaenyra smacked his arm, buried her head in his chest and mumbled something under her breath. Naruto frowned at it.
"Pardon?"
"High Valyrian," she explained.
He squinted at her. "You're mocking me, aren't you?"
That begot a giggle from her. "Far from it. Here, I'll teach you some. Watch my lips and repeat after me."
"I don't think we have the time to-
"Repeat after me!" She sang out over his protest, and Her lips pursed for a moment before she spoke what -to him- sounded like a string of gibberish. "Kostagon nyke vūjigon ao, issa riñnykeā?"
Naruto blinked. He blinked. "...princess say what now?"
She beamed. "It means, may I kiss you, my lady?"
He knew what she was getting at and played along. "May I?"
She pushed a finger to his lips with an impish grin. "Say it properly."
High Valyrian, then. He tried, he really did, but ended up mangling the pronunciation.
"Kessa," she sang back to him with a merry giggle.
Wild, baffling girl. "And that means...?"
Rhaenyra pushed herself up on the tips of her toes and kissed him full on the lips. "It means yes."
He kissed her fiercely then, and felt her smile against him as her arms looped around him, drawing him deeper. He held her closer, heedless of the valyrian steel armor biting into him. Worth it. A thousand times worth it. He settled his hands on her armored hips and resisted the urge to lift, or better yet, find something solid and press her against it. The men cheered in the background, hooting and hollering their support. Romance was a fine inspiration it seemed.
Biting his lip, Rhaenyra drew back reluctantly, looking deep into his eyes. "I don't want you to go out there. What if you get hurt?"
...I'll be fine." He reached out and held her hands. "This won't take long. Be careful out there, you hear me?"
A pale brow arched at him in mild amusement, ever confident. "Says the one who summoned a storm."
He laughed. "Funny you should say that, because it feels like I'm holding one in my hands."
She scoffed. "I am no storm. I am Fire and Blood. As you well know...husband."
They weren't married yet, but by the sage, that word hit hard.
Rhaenyra released him and flounced away, hips swaying.
She just had to get the last word in, didn't she...?
Naruto shook his head and watched Rhaenyra retreat; then for a moment, just a moment, he saw...something. He couldn't say what; only that his vision blurred for and a second silhouette seemed to overlap hers. Older and taller, stronger, a woman grown; more confident than ever before. He spied Blackfyre at her side, her long hair longer still, a crown of wrought black iron upon her regal head.
And there, walking side-by-side beside her, his golden hair a grizzled mane from many battles and wearing a sly, sardonic smile...himself.
Then that same specter pivoted and looked his way-wait. Why in the seven hells did he have a black eyepatch over his right eye?
Such implied he'd been wounded, or perhaps plucked it out for reasons he couldn't comprehend. That, or-
That selfsame specter smirked and spoke suddenly, startling him terribly. "See you soon."
"...?!"
Naruto blinked and sputtered, by the time he opened his eyes again, the brief the glimpse of the future was gone.
He looked left, then right, and found nothing in sight."Did you see that?"
Kurama yawned in his ear. "See what?"
...no, its nothing."
He'd been imagining things, surely. When one thought about oneself as an older person, one doesn't always recognize them; they tend to perceive them as different than you are now. There was plenty that could carry through to the future, sure, but the idea that he'd essentially been granted a vision of the future just now...it made him wonder if he'd become a different person at the end of the day.
And today?
Well, it went without saying.
Today was a very good day for war.
(.0.0.0.)
War never changes.
The campaign marched ever onward.
And this time, an army of shadow clones marched with it.
Armed and armored, they reaped the enemy as a scythe would wheat, with him at their head. It was a bloody slaughter. Those that fled from them were herded forward into the next chokepoint, where the Velaryons and Rhaenyra's soldiers fell upon them with a vengeance. And still Naruto kept pushing, now allowing them a chance to rest. The day ground on as they took one island, then a second, now a third, forcing the Crabfeeder and his men further and further back until they'd nowhere to go.
Perhaps that was impatience on his part; he wanted these slavers defeated, dead and done. No prisoners. No survivors.
Fire and Blood.
He didn't fear combat, he never had.
He'd taken lives before. So many times now.
And these...were the lowest of the low. So he treated them as such. The air blazed with jutsu. Golden arms ripped and rent with reckless, feckless abandon. Some fled from him. Others ran. He didn't give a damn. They made their choice when they started selling slaves, when they chose to prey on the innocent, when they began staking good men and women out on the beach to be fed upon by the crabs.
He passed more than a few corpses like that, crawling with crabs, shriveled husks that must've died in agony.
The sight of them only made him fight harder against the Triarchy.
Kill them all. Do not hesitate. Show no mercy.
They all had to die. Those who didn't fall to his fists found themselve trod upon by Kurama. He tore open their caves and forced them to flee, time and again, uncaring of their cries, their please, their whimpers for mercy.
And still he fought on.
Lord Corlys might support him after he won the Stepstones, or he might turn his cloak later.
He still didn't care. If he betrayed them, now or in the future...
.
..
...I'll have to kill him.
The realization saddened him somewhat, not for the man's death, but how readily he'd turned to violence since finding himself in Westeros. A small, boyish part of him had died inside, no that wasn't right, it was still dying even now, withering away with ever life he took. These people needed more than words; it was great if they listened, sure, but in the end it came down to Fire and Blood.
A dragon's roar split the sky overhead and with it came a towering shadow passing through the mists above.
Naruto craned his neck, squinting curiously through the fog.
Cannibal?
Try though he might, he couldn't be sure at this distance.
Regardless, that was a very big drake, larger than Meleys even. What was it doing here?
He soon had his answer as the beast fell upon the Crabfeeder's fleet with a raging roar, belching fire as it snapped up pirate and slaver alike. He saw the green bloom of death even from here and winced as a particularly large ship imploded on itself in a plume of emerald death. Even as it crumbled the creature moved onto the next, devouring the enemy with near feral hunger.
He paused for a moment, wonder if-
Pain stabbed into his temples.
"HUNGRY."
Yup. Definitely him.
A second shadow swooped out of the clouds- swooping was bad!- grabbed an entire ship in her talons, and took flight. The vessel crumbled under her grasp and plummeted to the sea, sending the survivors shrieking to a watery grave. Another dragon, he realized; older, more decrepit, not quite as large, but just as deadly. He didn't recognize that one.
A name stabbed into his skull unbidden. Vhagar.
Had all this blood and slaughter drawn dragons down upon them?
Well, as long as they weren't attacking his side for the time being...he could ignore them.
"For now. We'll have to deal with them if they turn on us aaaaaand they're attacking one another."
So it would seem. Vhagar lunged at the Cannibal suddenly, sinking her teeth into the vulnerable joint of his rightmost wing. Misakes were made. The larger wyrm tore free from her crushing jaws and rounded on her with an outraged shriek before barging her back into the shallows, smashing yet more Triarchy ships in her wake. Green flame flashed forth, only to be met by a smoldering blaze of amber fire in kind.
Just ahead of him, Syrax wheeled away from the two larger wyrms and, in her haste to escape the slaughter, flew straight into a hail of arrows.
She lurched into the sky with a startled shriek. Naruto didn't miss the pained cry that followed.
Just liek that, all thoughts of dragons fell away.
He saw red.
Rhaenyra was fine. He knew she was; because she had to be. It would take more than an arrow to harm her.
Yet his tempter stirred all the same.
'Huh.' An eerily calm thought struck him. 'I think these Targaryens are starting to rub off on me.'
A screaming pirate clad in eclectic Essosi garb rushed him, curved swords raised to strike. Naruto didn't bother to banter or try to plead with him; instead he slapped the first blade aside in contempt, parried the second, mixed the man up -literally!- backhanded him to stun him, caught his blades when they fell from his grasp and used them to cut the brute's throat. By the time his victim fell to bleed out upon the sands, he had already advanced ten steps and killed ten score more.
Then ten more atop that.
Tens upon tens.
Hundreds.
He swept a hand forward, conjuring a mass of chakra arms, bearing Rasensuriken in each hand. Then he let them fly and walked through the carnage that followed. There were few forces in the Shinobi world that would willingly withstand that jutsu. Here on Westeros? None.
The result? Annihilation. Evaporation. Oblivion.
An arrow whistled past his face, easily evaded; he pivoted and blasted the cliffside with a tailed beast bomb. The lucky ones evaporated outright. The unlucky survived just long enough to plummet to their deaths. Furious, he unleahsed two more blasts, sending men and women screaming to their doom.
Someone threw an axe at him while he wad distracted; only for him to catch it and toss it back, splitting a slaver's skull.
A sword slammed into his back and bounced off. He shattered the face of its master with a single punch.
Enough. No more. Kill them all.
It was chaos; and yet everything seemed so slow. So distant, as he slaughtered these monsters. Yet for all that he was keenly aware of his surroundings, the salt and screams in the air, the hammering of his own heart as he tore them apart. Dragons fought in the background as more wyrms rained fire down upon his foes. Slavers threw down their weapons and fled, routed. Others fought to the bitter end. Didn't matter much.
He chased them down with his shadow clones to tear them apart.
A lifetime ago -it certainly felt like one now- he would've simply thrashed these people within an inch of their lives and let them be locked up, trusting in the authorities to dispense justice. There was no justice in Westeros, or rather, none unless you made it. So he did. His justice was violence, the mercy he gave a quick death when these slaver scum deserved so much worse.
He didn't laugh; because he took no joy in this. He wasn't insane. He simply killed.
We shouldn't be doing this, a small, tiny, boyish part of him began to plead. This isn't us!
Naruto shouldered forward, crushing the throat of another vile slaver in his grasp. "Be quiet."
We're not a monster. These are people!
"Shut up."
Maybe if we talk to them we could-
"STOP TALKING!"
He reached deep inside himself, seized that voice with both hands and strangled it until it fell silent. There was no time for second thoughts here; he could ill afford them.
The line between naivete and hopefulness was almost invisible. He understood that now.
This world was dark, so he had to close his heart and let them...
.
..
...DIE.
Naruto sped up.
No other word for it.
His arms flicked left right, left again, decapitating as he went. Rasengan, Rasenshuriken, every aspect of his arsenal came flying out with a vengeance. He was the storm. He was death. None who crossed his path lived to tell the tale. Those few allies who glimpsed his flickering form would never forget it; they would pass the tale down to their children, and their children's children.
By the end of the campaign, he would earn a new title for the sheer savagery that followed. The Lord of Blood.
And there at end of it all; he finally saw him.
The one responsible for this fiasco.
Crabfeeder.
(.0.0.0.)
Cragas Drahar was not a good man.
Perhaps he had been so once upon a time, before the maiming, before the injuries, before the greyscale. Perhaps not. In truth, he no longer knew. He admittedly...remembered precious little of his life these days, so great was his torment. He had a family. He coul still recall that much. A wife. There had been children...hadn't there? A daughter and a son. They had died. Had he killed them? Had someone else killed them?
.
..
...he couldn't recall.
Even now when he reached for the murky memory, it slipped through his fingers like so much salt water, leaving only a dull ache in his place. Living was a haze of pain and murder; inflicting agony upon others was one of the few ways he yet had to distract himself from the constant agony that was his own existence. All his victories meant nothing. Even the Valyrian steel sword he'd recently "acquired" from an unsuspecting ship's captain meant precious little as a prize.
This wretched disease had already taken so much from him and so he commanded his men from afar, unwilling to touch them, lest he subject them to the horror of his disease. But that would soon change.
Soon, this world would know pain.
Soon, this world would suffer as he had suffered.
Soon, this world -and the Seven Kingdoms!- would taste the horror of Greyscale as he had.
Yes, Cragas Drahar, the Crabfeeder, was not a good man. He knew this. He accepted it. He embraced it. The Stepstones were but the beginning. He would show them all. He was the harbinger of that pain, he would bring it to Westeros, to the very dragons themselves. He would drag them all down, lay them low, and feed them to the crabs.
.
..
...or so had been his plan.
Until he saw him.
A blond beast covered in blood.
Tens of thousands of men separated them.
And yet those blazing eyes fixated upon him and him alone.
This man, this monster, who slaughtered his soldiers as one would a green grass boy who'd never before held a sword...saw. him. His glowing golden hand rose, and with it a lone finger, pointing at him across the chaos. Heedless of the blood and the sweat, of the dragons raging in the background, this blond berserker only had eyes for him. Something in those glowing orbs frightened him. Here was one who knew also knew pain, and was determined to visit it upon him tenfold.
His very voice rattled the world. "CRABFEEDER!"
Cragas Drahar stepped back into the cave. This island was lost. Time to retreat.
The beast gave chase. The fool would never find him. These tunnels were vast and he knew them like the back of his hand.
"Dracarys!"
He never knew who shouted the word; it sounded like a girl, but he couldn't be sure. In the end it didn't matter. The result was the same. A rush of flame cut off his escape, forcing him to stagger back, one arm warding before his masked face in a vain attempt to shield himself. He glimpsed a golden dragon wheeling away into the air and spat at her.
That moment of anger cost him most dear.
A hand seized his arm from behind and yanked with devastating force. He felt something pop and balked, alarmed to find himself staring at a bloody stump. Pain was slow to come -always had been ever since he caught Greyscale-but once it did, the sheer shock of it rooted him where he stood. He balked, swaying on his feet, unable to believe what he was looking at.
How...?
Purest gold flickered before his face; a gloved fist backhanded him and sent him sprawling. His mask went flying, lost in the the chaos.
Someone shouted, he never knew who. "Greyscale! He's got greyscale! Don't let him touch you!"
Cragas fumbled for his hammer with his remaining hand, only for a boot to find his face.
Belatedly, he glimpsed his would-be killer.
How he shone like the sun...
"You think this hurts?" The golden boy was furious with him, ranting and raving as he laid into him. This is NOTHING!" each word brought with it a fresh blow, more pain wracking his already dying body. "How does it feel?! To be utterly hopeless and not being able to do a damn thing about it?! Idiot!" he felt his ribs rattle, organs rupture, flesh tear as the attack continued, battering him left right and center-but even then, he was left painfully conscious, cognizant of it all. "How do you think your victims felt when you staked them out on the beach and they had no way out?!'
Drahar tried to speak. All that emerged was a bloody gurgle.
Something was broken in him. He heard an awful wet snap when he tried to move.
He tried to reach for his hammer, for his new sword as well, but his arm wouldn't move the way he wanted. By the time he finally found the former it was too late. A feeble swipe saw his hand torn clean off at the wrist by a giant maw of teeth. This time, he felt no pain at all, though that might be the shock talking.
Was that a giant golden fox looming over him? Was he hallucinating again? Was he already dead?
"Do you feel defenseless?" a boot stomped down on hist chest, pinning him where he lay, shattering yet more bones. "Scared? Good! Now you know how they all felt before you killed them!"
Through ringing ears, Drahar heard the rasp of steel and knew well what it meant. He'd taken his new sword. A pox on him.
"Well, now it's your turn. I hope you enjoy it."
His good eye swiveled his way. In that moment, he experienced a single instant of blinding mental clarity. "The Triarchy...will never stop...hunting you now."
The blond -Naruto!- raised his borrowed blade high, eyes cold and hard. "Then I'll kill them, too.
Valyrian steel swept down in a devastating arc.
Thus ended the life of Cragas Drahar.
A/N: And so it continues~!
The stepstones arc is nearly concluded...back to the intrigue next chapter...and Alicent's answer.
Just wanted to say, I appreciate you all! More feedback means faster updates! It's especially important, in these, trying times, with the main site notifications down. Every word counts and i appreciate you all! All these reviews really keep me inspired! Looking forward to hearing from you~! I should be able to update Sunday or EARLIER, time and health permitting.
Weeeell? What did you think? Would you like weekly updates? Yay or nay? Really need to hear from you, here. Feedback makes the world go round!
As stated, this has a high chance of being upgraded to M later down the line, but I need to know if folks want to see that.
By all means, speak up! Your voice matters! Make yourself heard! As ever, reviews are the fuel that sustain me.
So in the Immortal Words of Atlas…
...Review...Would You Kindly?
And enjoy the Previews!
As ever:
SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS!
PLOT DETAILS AHOY!
YE BE WARNED!
Read at your own risk!
As ever, these are from the far flung future...or are they~?!
Previews are mostly the same, wouldn't want to spoil things now.
(Previews!)
Otto took the plunge. "You must see the King tonight."
Alicent bristled. "To what end?"
Why did she defy him so?
Someone deal with those dragons!
"The idea that we Targaryens control the dragons...is an illusion; in truth, they are a power our ancestors never should have trifled with.
Yet without them, our reign would undoubtedly buckle beneath its own weight. We need them. As they need us.
Promise me you won't let the dragons die out, Rhaenyra. Promise me.
Hugh didn't fear dragons.
Make no mistake, he knew they was big and tough and mean as can be, but they wasn't invincible. At the end of the day they were just meat. Dangerous, fire-breathing meat that could snap you up in a single bite, but all the same
He was a blacksmith, not a butcher. His trade lay in the realm of metal and weapons even as
His wifer was prengant, and the missus wasn't doign
Good reason for that. looked up as a massive shadow swooped low over the beachhead of King's Landing.
Shading his face with one hand, he squinted up at them. "
Dragons wasn't gods he knew, they were just meat, but they were mighty indeed.
One of them saw him and swooped low.
Imagine his surprise when it landed before him!
"Curious." he remarked after a moment's pause. "I see now why he took notice of you."
He knelt hurriedly. "Your grace."
...interesting. He acknowledges you." The rider considered him for a long moment. "Who was your mother?"
Hugh blanched. "That...is a long story..
What have we here...?"
Blast. And today had started so well.
Ulf dropped his drink and raised his hands in the air. "Nothing at all...?"
Whomever was behind him jabbed a sword into his back. "Move, bastard. We have places to be."
It sounded like the bloody prince.
A sword is more than a weapon. Stick 'em with the pointy end they say. Ha! When you make a sword, the first priority is to make it purposeful and well-balanced. But a sword is also an object of power and has to express this power in its design...
...and this sword...
..is my gift...
...to you.
"Lord commander."
Ser Harold Westerling was a surprisingly noble man, defending his comrades despite the stain on their honor. "Cole is a good lad, he just needs to get his head screwed on straight."
Naruto clicked his tongue. "Think he needs more than that...
The white worm wishes a a word with you, my lord."
Naruto's brow shot into his hair.
"Who?"
"Daemon's lover.
"Ahhhh...
"If you fail to plan you plan to fail. This world is cold and cruel, and there are a few in it, who are steadfast. You, I think, are steadfast.
"Is the safety and security of the realm not worth one life?"
"You'll never stop at one!" he righted himself with a grunt, turned his head, and spat out a bloody tooth. "I'll take you all on!"
Visenya whooped, leaned back in the saddle, and flung up her arms. "Dracarys~!"
Her dragon answered in a rush of fire. The girl grinned.
Riding on dragonback was the best!
"Faster, papa! Faster!"
His daughter bounced on his back, grinning from ear to ear as she tugged at his hair.
Naruto smiled despite himself. "Feisty as your mother, I swear. Where's your brother hiding-
Someone leaped onto his back.
"Aha! There you are!"
"Stay your hand! If you do this, you will make enemies! There will be nowhere left for you to run!
"Run?" he craned his head back over his shoulder to look at them. "Who's running?"
Blue eyes bled into red, snapping into furious scarlet slits. "Where?"
Golden radiance flashed around him. "And why?!"
The world burst into light.
EDIT: Hope you enjoyed! Have a great day!
Warm regards,
~Nz.