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Chapter 13

=Sith=

Part 5

=Sith=

291 AC

Yunkai

Yunkai's defenders were shaken but not yet broken. From his vantage point, Viserys could see units converging on the city gate he was assaulting, while others were doing their best to get as far away from him as possible. It wasn't hard to guess that those running were Wise Masters. That would be a crippling blow to the defender's morale – something Viserys intended to take full advantage of as soon as he opened the gates.

The Sith used the Force to telekinetically move Unsullied from the top of the tower to the wall below, where they formed a shield wall to protect another safe-ish climbing spot. The next group he put down hurried to secure ropes to the ramparts, allowing more of their comrades to climb up and reinforce them. With a second insertion point in place, Viserys could finally focus on the tower below and the gatehouse it was part of. The Sith went to the hatch and focused on sensing what lay below.

Living beings were far easier and simpler to detect through the Force, though it was possible to do the same with droids and other machines. However, the former's life force and minds simply glowed in the Force, making them stand out in a way you couldn't miss once you knew how to properly look for them. The downside was that doing so was quite distracting at the best of times.

A dozen people were below, forming a circle around the ladder leading to the top of the tower. Without explosives, crossbows, or something hot to dump on them, trying to storm the level below through the hatch would usually lead to a bloodbath. It would be feasible for the defenders to stack up the bodies of the attackers high up around the ladder, making that route unviable before enough soldiers could storm the place before enough soldiers could get down there, and survive long enough to kill them.

Viserys had other options, though he had to be careful not to trash any mechanisms used to open the gates, so unfocused use of telekinesis was out. The same went for Sith Lightning, just in case.

The Sith tore the hatch with telekinesis and glowered at the people below. He focused his will and intent through the Force and slammed them into the minds of the defenders' minds. Their mental defenses were paper-tin. Claws of dark intent shredded through those mental defenses, dragging the deepest, darkest fears of everyone affected to the forefront of their minds. Any courage the Yunkish mustered to hold their position vanished like a snowflake on Tatooine at noon. Warriors collapsed on their knees, lost in their nightmares, while others clawed at their eyes, trying to make visions of horrors go away. A handful threw away their weapons and ran, only to halt at a locked door. They hammered at solid wood reinforced with iron, screaming to be let out.

Viserys jumped through the hatch, feeling more disappointment at the opposition he was facing. It was true that the effects of his technique here were not unique. A person needed a strong mind, courage, and, ideally, exposure to Force-induced fear to reliably resist something like this. Such people were vanishingly rare in the Clone Wars era, much less here. Knowing this didn't change the reality that the Sith's warrior's heart craved a worthy opponent to match himself against.

At the same time, it was a good thing he could clear the tower fast and clean without resorting to particularly destructive techniques.
Viserys slaughtered the terrified locals and looked critically at the room. Barrels with wooden stands for various weapons lined the walls. Thin slits to shoot from and torches illuminated the space rather well, including the most critical part it held – a mechanism of wooden and metal wheels and heavy chains. That was obviously the way to open and close the came down the ladder, and Viserys pointed at the device.

"Lift the portcullis. I'll deal with the other gate," Viserys ordered before heading to clear the rest of the tower. Once the gatehouse was secure, Viserys could deal with the gates and the defenders coming to reinforce the area.

=Sith=

Climbing a wall with a knotted rope while people shot arrows at you, or tried to poke holes in you with spears through slits in the very wall you were climbing, was not Richard's idea of fun. The plan was insane and should have been a great way to get many good men killed for no gain.

Instead, due to the magic his Prince wielded, he was able to rapidly secure a space on a tower and provide cover for the people climbing behind him. By the time Lonmouth began climbing, Unsullied had held the tower above, with more climbing on the wall to his left. Even better, Yunkish no longer tried their best to skewer those climbing like boars through slits near the top of the tower!
That was the good news.

Whoever was clearing the tower hadn't reached the lower levels yet, which was a problem. A spear shot through a slit just above Richard and caught an Unsullied in the neck. The poor bastard gurgled and reflexively let go of the rope, trying to catch the weapon stuck in his throat. Richard cursed and pushed with his legs, swinging farther away from the slit above than the now dead Unsullied. He did it just in time, too, for a spear came out of the slit. He was fast and was now climbing past, barely missing him. Lonmouth's arms burned as he held for the rope for dear life before his boots touched the wall again, and he could continue his ascend in a more controlled fashion.

An arrow buzzed past Richard; however, the angle was awkward, and the archers on the closest wall had other things to worry about instead of aiming properly. Like a group of Unsullied three abreast advancing slowly but steadily behind their shields, those behind them threw javelins at the defenders before them.

The Commander of the Royal Guard finally reached the top, glad that no one attacked him from the slits below the ramparts. A pair of Unsullied waited for him and the other warriors who were busy climbing. They were ready to help them get over the rampart faster so they could get out of the way and into cover.

"Where is the Prince?" Lonmouth demanded.

"He is taking the gatehouse," an Unsullied pointed at a hatch on the floor.

Lonmouth nodded and went to follow his liege. All he had to do was follow the corpses until he reached his Prince. Richard found Viserys at the gates, standing behind a thin line of Unsullied. A crescent-shaped group of Yunkish surrounded them, ready to hold the entrance to their city with a spiky wall of spears. A couple of officers on horses towered behind the infantry, shouting encouragements and orders to attack.

A semi-circle of corpses divided the Unsullied and defenders, standing as evidence that the enemy's first attempt to secure the gatehouse had failed. Richard noted that his Prince was paying no attention to the enemy, but instead, he was focused on the gates. A massive wooden beam held them closed, likely carved from a single large tree. It would take a lot of people and ropes to move that thing and open the gates.

Or a single Targaryen Sorcerer.

Viserys raised a hand, and the beam moved with a loud moan. The metal fittings holding it in place groaned as the weight lifted.
"Duck," Viserys' voice rang throughout the area.

The Unsullied obeyed without thinking, falling on one knee and hiding behind their shields. Richard had a moment to comprehend what was happening, and he ducked as well, just in time for the beam to fly over his head before coming lower to pass just over the heads of their soldiers. Then it slammed into the enemy like a stick blowing through a row of toys. A horse shrieked horribly, followed by the screams of wounded men.

Richard looked at the unexpected carnage, then at his Prince, who made a gesture. The gates slowly swung open with a groan of protesting wood and metal.

"Secure the rest of the walls near the gates. I will take care of this," Viserys pointed at the shaken Yunkish, who looked stricken at his handiwork.

=Sith=

Part 6

=Sith=

291 AC

Yunkai

Power coursed through Daenerys' veins, begging to be unleashed. The fire magic in her blood ran hot, making the Princess feel restrained. It also begged to be released, though she knew not how to do it!

As if that was not frustrating enough, Daenerys could feel the emotions of the army surrounding her and those of the people in the city they were storming. Hungry anticipation, righteous anger, fear, bloodlust, and more mixed into a heavy beverage that enhanced her emotions.

It was all she could do not to rush into the fray to join her brother in fighting those despicable slavers! Only her desire not to disappoint him by doing so held her back. The knowledge that sooner rather than later, she would be ready to fight beside Viserys did little to soothe the Princess' burning hunger for action. Yet, the need to do something, anything useful, was becoming overwhelming. The tipping point was when the Unsullied secured the gates and ordered the rest of the army to follow them into the city.

At that point, the soldiers' elation and bloodlust cracked Daenerys' restrain. Still, she retained just enough control not to rush forward, leading the charge. Her fingers clenched around her mare's reins so hard it hurt while the Sith Apprentice tried to find a way to retain a semblance of control. The Princess's eyes swept over the walls where Unsullied was pushing back the Yunkish until her gaze returned to a sight that made her blood boil. There was one of her people crucified and stuck above a platform above the gate, right below a statue of a Harpy. From where Daenerys stood, the symbol of slavery looked like it was holding the poor man into its clawed feet.

Right there! If the man was still alive, then she could do something without breaking the promise to stay safe she gave Viserys! With her mind made up, Daenerys' hold on the reins relaxed, though the fire in her blood burned even brighter, making her feel even less comfortable.

"We are going to rescue him!" the Princess pointed at the crucified man, putting forth as much authority behind her words as she could muster. The magic in her gleefully hurried to obey, giving the Apprentice's orders far more weight than it would have had otherwise.

Reaching the gatehouse and their destination right above it was easier said than done. Thousands of soldiers gleefully marched towards the gates, and even with the large passage secure, it took them time to pass through. While Daenerys and her guards approached the gates, the din of combat grew more and more distant – a testament to her brother's and their Unsullied success. By the time the Princess climbed off her horse and entered the gatehouse, all she could hear were shouted orders, distant screams, and the constant beat of countless marching feet.

Daenerys passed by or over dozens of butchered Yunkish, a sight that should have been shocking, no matter how much she had experienced since the death of Ser Darry. Instead, all the Princess felt was disappointment that she wasn't among the soldiers who butchered the slavers! Her rage at those who crucified and killed her people left no place for pity or regret, much less mere shock.
Finally, Daenerys reached her destination, only to find out that she was too short to reach the man she wanted to help! To be fair, the group of Royal Guards who stumbled to a halt beside her, who were much taller and larger than the young girl, would still need a ladder or two to safely pull down the crucified sailor.

Fortunately, Daenerys had magic at her beck and call! Her brother had been teaching her how to use it for months now! All the emotions swirling through her like a poisoned cocktail served as fuel for the power begging to be used.

The Sith Apprentice focused on the raging magic, grasped it with her mind, and forced it to obey with all her will. Power surged through her small frame, filling it to bursting. If the magic in Daenerys' blood was on fire before, now it was a raging inferno threatening to consume her. She pushed through the fire posed to burn her from inside and ordered it to obey!

Daenerys raised a hand and made a grasping motion. Magic surged through her, forming invisible fingers around the crucified man. She gently took hold of him, then willed more power at the base of the cross he was bound to, focusing her anger on the wood. The solid beam of sturdy wood snapped like a twig with a loud sound, the likes of which Daenerys had never heard before. She almost dropped the man and the cross he was still attached to from shock, then nearly squeezed him to death as she did her best to retain her hold of him.

Nevertheless, Daenerys' endless hours of training paid off. She managed to lower the cross without killing the man she desired to rescue. Doing so was awkward and harder than she imagined, but it worked, and that was all that mattered in the end!

Daenerys let go of the magic, and the inferno burning through her veins abated somewhat. The Apprentice felt like a weight lifted from her shoulders, yet at the same time, a profound sense of weariness pressed down. The Princess gasped, drawing deep breaths. Only now, the smell of blood and ruptured bowels hit her in a way she noticed. It didn't help that the still crucified sailor was soiled and covered with offal that had been baking in the sun for days now. Daenerys recoiled, stumbling back and almost slipping on fresh blood coating the stone below her feet.

Once again, magic surged through her, summoned by the Princess' building shock and panic. Cool frost spread through her instead of more liquid fire, yet it still burned within her, even in a very different way. At least Daenerys could again think more or less clearly, so she welcomed the magic, even if holding it was less than pleasant.

The Sith Apprentice focused on the sailor, struggling to find something to say. She was a Targaryen Princess and had to act the part!
"You don't have my permission to die!" Daenerys ordered, echoing her brother's words.

Viserys sounded and looked amazing when he did so! She surely couldn't go wrong by emulating her brother!

Daenerys saw how a look of stunned disbelief, not a small amount of fear, and relief was replaced by something she couldn't readily recognize. She glanced at the Royal Guard beside her, sensing the same odd mixture of emotions coming from the sailor bubbling within them.

There were looks of exasperation and relief focused on her, or so the Princess thought, for helmets hid most of their faces.