A/N: This battle took me many extra days to write; burnout made me slow down and carefully plan it, even using some dice rolls for battle flow. Thanks to Master Basher on SB for his help with the planning.

And thanks to Wobb Nox, filipinosberman and Ascalon on SB for beta-ing. Merry Christmas to you all!

Chapter LXVIII: Dragon Against Dragon, Part III

37 AC
Ninth Moon
Eyarha Plains
Arin Rada

This was the final battle that would decide the fate of Dorne. Maegor was coming in full force, and all their dragonriders were concentrated in one place. Either they won, or they perished.

It was fitting, then, that this battle took place in the same location where the War of Roses and Serpents ended, where the final battle against King Mern IX Gardener and Brandyll Tarly took place, cementing Arin Rada's reputation as the Defender of Dorne.

"Never thought I'd find myself here fighting a battle again…" Arin mused to himself while smiling wryly, "How nostalgic."

He saw Castenkair flying overhead, circling the skies like a hawk protecting its nest of eggs. Admittedly, he felt uncertain if they would be able to win with such an exhausted army; the Anti-Dornish forces had done a thorough job, and most of the men he led to the Eyarha Plains were wounded. Some lightly, others not so.

And yet what choice do we have?

"My Lord, the men stand ready," Huang Xue bowed to him.

Arin nodded and stood before the men, maintaining the face of a calm, collected leader with absolute certainty in their victory.

"Men and women of Dorne!" He shouted, "Today is the final battle of this war, the war that decides the fate of Dorne!"

There was no time for a long-winded, heroic speech. He would have to make it short.

"I will not lie to you; our prospects of victory are bleak. The difference between our army and the Anti-Dornish forces is night and day, and we are at our very limit! However, I see in your eyes a burning determination to defend our home, and avenge the atrocities visited upon our people! Innocent people who did nothing to deserve what happened to them!"

The troops cheered with fiery fervour and burning anger, some shedding tears as they thumped their chests.

"Here, in these sun-blessed plains, we make our stand against the encroaching Dragon, the Stag and the Greenhand, as we stood against the greenhand nearly four decades ago! So I bid you stand with me, Men and Women of Dorne! Stand, Men and Women of the Black Fox!"

"Hrah-gah Rhoyne!" The men chanted in unison.

"Get to your positions!" Arin ordered, "Prepare for battle!"

Just as the Dornish horns were sounded, so too were those of the Anti-Dornish forces who were cresting the horizon.

As they approached, Arin could see through his far-eye that only the Stormlander and Crownlander banners were visible, with nary a Reach banner in sight.

Huang Xue then approached him with a report in hand, "An update from Sainalia's spies in the Reach."

Arin took the paper and quickly read it, and smiled with a fraction of relief.

"I always wondered why the Reachmen intervened so quickly when their civil war was not concluded yet…" He mused, feeling a pang of frustration, "So they truly wanted to take me out of the equation, did they?"

Sainalia's reports indicated that through some high-level diplomatic talks and several victories scores against the Conservatives, the Reformists were able to get them to agree to a temporary ceasefire. Then, the two Reach factions united in common cause to invade Dorne according to Brandyll Tarly's strategy, weakening the Dornish even further.

However, the allotted ceasefire period had expired before they could cause further damage, and with the two sides at each other's throats again, they were forced to pull out, hence their absence from the Eyarha Plains.

Two weeks had passed since their arrival, and in that time they built a triple layer of interconnected trenches in a concave-shaped zig zag maze pointed in the direction of the Targaryen armies. Trenches would by no means truly stop a dragon's might, but troops could take cover and avoid the worst of the damage by dragonfire. As troops would have to fight in very narrow spaces, formation fighting was useless, and extra time would have to be spent finding and killing them to clear the trenches.

With trebuchets and ballistas on the Dornish side, the plan was for them to whittle down the enemy numbers with artillery bombardment and use the trenches to buy enough time for Elaegelle to win the dragon battle overhead.

Yet with three Targaryen dragons against Castenkair, their prospects were bleak.

"Huang Xue, are you with me?" Asked Arin.

"I am always here, My Lord. Now and forever," Huang Xue bowed with fierce determination in his eyes.

"I will not give up a chance to humiliate that arrogant Prince, myself," Elanzo shrugged nonchalantly.

Arin nodded, feeling relieved and assured of their loyalty, though not so much in Elanzo's case.

The men were motivated, fearful of losing everything to the invaders should they lose, and not just their lives and property - their families too. They resolved not to lose, and had faith in the gods-blessed dragon Castenkair, but their nerves were fraying.

Many were desperately praying for victory and salvation, praying that Dorne would not be subject to the inevitable. Others were making morbid jokes, black humour thrown around with depressing regularity.

And then there was Elanzo Aresaryn. He was loyal so far, but he was also an openly self-centered and arrogant man who at times made him so frustrated he wanted to tear out his hair. Exactly who could survive for long with such a duplicitous attitude?

I think considering how much hot water I tend to land myself in, he's never bored and thus has no reason to betray me. But what about afterwards?

Arin sighed softly.

No point overthinking this; there's a battle to fight.

IIOII

Maegor glared at the flying form of Castenkair, tightly gripping the reins of his saddle.

He felt his dragon's growing annoyance at Castenkair through the bond they shared, at how his master did not possess the blessing from the God Balerion. He fondled the pommel of Blackfyre, a reassuring weight by his side.

"Brother, our troops are in position."

Maegor nodded stiffly to Maekar, though he showed little relief and assurance at the state of the enemy, if at all.

"Brother, you don't look happy," Maekar commented.

"How can I be?" Maegor cut back, "Can I be happy as long as Elaegelle lives? She has a dragon blessed by Balerion herself, she enjoys great recognition and fame, she chose to forsake our family for a family of foxes ready to pounce upon our throats!"

Maegor found himself slipping into a fit of ranting, his anger and resentment bursting to the fore.

"Dorne only submitted to our family because of the Black Fox; all our staunchest opponents in that desert country were gone because of the Black Fox; the Stepstones were brought to heel because of the Black Fox! As if that wasn't enough, his daughter helped solidify our alliance with Daeria, his cousin brought in another ally for the Iron Throne in the Summer Isles! Their goddess and our god brought down the Lion of Night, and yet he gets to have Castenkair and his rider by his side!? Why did the Black Fox have to be born into this world!? Why couldn't he have just died peacefully! Why must he be a thorn in our side, the man whom my damned sister surrendered her claim to the throne to!?"

His siblings shared the same mindset and feelings about Elaegelle; what right did she have, a dragonless sibling, to contest Maegor's claim to the throne? What right did Arin Rada have to meddle in their affairs?

And yet they shied away from him, fearful of seeing him so taken by his anger for the first time in their lives.

"Brother, the troops await your speech," Maekar gently reminded, after giving Maegor enough time to stew in his anger.

Maegor looked at his siblings - Maekar and his sister Viserra - and asked them, "Are you prepared to end this madness, once and for all?"

"Most certainly, brother," Viserra said enthusiastically, "For Viserys, and to kill that bitch. This blight upon House Targaryen must end."

Viserra was a very enthusiastic and dutiful daughter of House Targaryen, and the one to mourn their brother Viserys the Elder's death at the hands of the Dornish. Her hatred burned as brightly as the sun itself.

"And you, Maekar?" Asked Maegor.

"Until the very end, Maegor," Maekar nodded, "Elaegelle poses a threat to your claim, one that we must neutralise."

Maegor nodded. Urging Zaekos to fly lower, he was soon within earshot of the assembled Targaryen armies.

"Men of the Stormlands! Of the Crownlands!" He bellowed at the top of his voice, "We stand at the precipice of our most glorious triumph against the rats of the desert!"

His men cheered uproariously, despite the horrendous losses they sustained against the Dornish. With the constant harassment attacks they suffered, their gradual depletion of supplies and the number of commanders they lost, mercy for the Dornish was at an all-time low, and they were eager to settle the score once and for all.

"They have a dragon on their side, yes, but we have three! And we have a fresh army with ample supplies and hatred in our hearts to carry on the war with the Dornish! What's more, our enemy is exhausted and on their last legs! We win here, we win for good! We end this threat to the Iron Throne, and end any threat Dornish raiders have posed to its neighbours for countless centuries!

"We will salt their earth! We shall drain their oases dry, fill their canals with corpses, and irrigate the sands with their blood! For we are men of the Dragon, and we shall have our due!"

A final cheer was the men's answer, devotion and self-assurance of their victory mixing into a potent cocktail of confidence.

"Get into formation, men! We make ready for battle!" He ordered.

IIOII

The battle began with an all-out attack by the attackers while the defenders held their positions.

While Elaegelle and Castenkair battled with the Targaryen dragons in the air, the Dornish began their bombardment of the enemy formations. Tucosar Fire and Wildfire bathed the battlefield, illuminating the scenery with macabre splotches of reddish orange and yellow green. Scores of troops were immolated, and those too close to avoid it were themselves burned alive, cooked in their armour.

The smell of cooked pork pervaded the atmosphere, yet not a single Dornishman vomited in disgust - they had grown too used to the smell from burning villages and towns.

"Reload, reload!" The engineers hurriedly ordered, "Prepare the next volley!"

With the dragons preoccupied overhead, it fell to the ground forces to win the day for both sides.

Undeterred by the damage they sustained, the Targaryen armies charged onward, howling as if they were out for blood.

"Don't fear their catapults! Charge forward, leave none alive!"

It was no mere bravado, but true hatred that fueled their charge, and hatred was a powerful motivator overriding all fear a person may feel.

Dornish cavalry unleashed their hit-and-run tactics, and in a target-rich environment they felled countless enemy knights like lambs to the slaughter. However, such tactics had a limit, especially against a numerically superior enemy, and soon the Dornish cavalry began falling to arrows or countercharges. Worse still they were starting to tire, preventing the Dornish from unleashing their full potential.

Before long, the invaders began hopping into the trenches, slaughtering any Dornishmen in their way. The narrow corridors prevented those wielding polearms or longswords from effectively using their weapons, but shields provided protection against rocks, arrows or other projectiles lobbed their way.

The invaders made progress and spilled much blood, but they paid a heavy price for their advance, resulting in a bloody tie for the initial clash.

Elaegelle and Castenkair were equally tired, bloodied from their clash against the Targaryen dragonriders who were content to merely harass her. The dragon himself had suffered several lacerations across its body, bleeding heavily and panting with fatigue, and Elaegelle took a slice to her arm.

Maegor, on the other hand, was beginning to show increased frustration at failing to deliver a killing blow. Their plan was to slowly wear down Elaegelle and Castenkair before doing so, and only the promise of victory had stayed his hand.

But for how long, none could say.

Each time either he, Maekar or Viserra tried to swoop down upon the beleaguered defenders, Castenkair's jaws and violet flames would deter them. His superior speed and power ensured the odds were more or less even.

Yet things would not go well for the Targaryen Armies.

Perhaps it was pride and ego that drove them too far, making them carelessly rush into the jaws of death, but things began to go from bad to worse for the invaders. Not only did they fail to make much progress in the ongoing close-quarters trench battle, they were being repeatedly driven back and surrounded, whittled down one soldier at a time.

Dust and smoke choked the battlefield, making it difficult for the invaders to see what was in front of them, thus they were vulnerable to ambushes and assassinations. Their officers were dropping like flies, too, leading to a breakdown in cohesion as orders were lost and troops were left stranded.

Some knights foolishly charged into the fog of war, vainly attempting and failing to restore order. Others were mercilessly hunted down by Dornish cavalry. Scattered caltrops, concealed spiked pits, cheval du frises and all manner of anti-cavalry traps robbed the knights of their mounted advantage.

And in the sky battle, Maegor was about to suffer a terrible loss.

"Dracarys!"

Viserra had her mount unleash a gout of fire, only for Castenkair to effortlessly weave around and dodge it. Her dragon was tired from the constant fighting, while Castenkair seemed barely winded, and her impatience began to take its toll.

"Gods damn it, why won't you just die!?" Viserra screamed, urging her dragon into a frontal charge.

"Wait!" Maekar cried in alarm, "Viserra, wait!"

His warning came too late. At the very last moment, Castenkair dodged the direct attack and chomped down on Viserra's dragon Smaldrax at the neck. Elaegelle, to ensure Viserra was baited, allowed herself to be cut across the face by Viserra's sword, before she slit her palm and unleashed a gout of bloodfire directly into Viserra's face.

Both rider and dragon perished in thirty seconds flat, plummeting to their doom.

Maekar trembled in rage mirroring his brother Maegor's, and together they mounted a ferocious counterattack like no other. All rational thought had long since fled their minds, only savagery and single-minded vengeance remained, unleashing such fury that even Elaegelle struggled to maintain her ironclad defense.

A strike here, a swing there. One sword swing deflected, sparks flying where Valyrian steel connected.

Stab, block, riposte.

Castenkair retained his superiority over the other dragons, and neither Maegor nor Maekar cared how exhausted they were becoming. His bursts of speed allowed him to manoeuvre effectively around the savage attacks, and his rider developed effective countermeasures with calm, professional clarity.

Swipe, bite, punch.

And in their haste to deliver the killing blow, Maekar made the same mistake of overextending himself, leaving him vulnerable to attack.

After Castenkair unleashed a gout of violet flames, cancelling that of Lazennor - Maekar's dragon - he closed in, using a claw to bat away Lazennor's own limb, allowing Elaegelle to draw her twin swords and swing twice; once to slice Lazennor's wing, once to behead Maekar himself.

Yet another notch of war accomplishments to add to Elaegelle's belt. She did, on the other hand, suffer a stab to her shoulder by Maekar's dagger.

By this point, Maegor had gone into another degree of berserk rage, forsaking all self-preservation for the sole desire to slay Elaegelle and Castenkair at all costs.

On the ground, the invaders saw two dragons plummet to the ground, scattering huge clouds of dust as they landed. When the dust cleared, they came to terms with the reality that their dragons - their greatest power yet - was brought low by one Dornish dragonrider.

"They're dead! The dragons are dead!"

"What!? How's that possible!?"

"It's no use! We're losing the battle! Retreat, retreat!"

Unable to bear the sight of their mighty leaders slain and having sustained grievous losses of their own, the invaders beat a hasty retreat, often trampling upon their own comrades in their mad haste. No matter what anyone would say, this became a crushing defeat for the invaders.

Yet neither was it a victory yet for the Dornish, for Maegor and Zaekos remained standing.

"Elaegelle!" Maegor roared, "I will kill you, I will kill you! I will have Zaekos feast upon your dragon's corpse, feed you to the dogs, and decimate all you hold dear! I will skin your flesh, smash your bones, burn them and spear your babes upon-"

Maegor never finished his words. For Elaegelle threw the dagger in her shoulder into Maegor's neck and Castenkair chomped down hard upon Zaekos's neck, tearing out a huge chunk of flesh. Neither dragon nor rider would live to see their final moments as they plummeted towards the ground.

And raising her sword high in the air, Elaegelle shouted, "Victory! We have victory!"

And just like that, the day was won, and the Dornish narrowly avoided annihilation. A ragged cheer was shared among the Dornishmen as they cried tears of joy, triumph, regret and loss.

Many others simply slumped to the ground, finally able to mourn and grieve for lost family and friends, exhausted from the constant battles they were forced to fight.

Arin simply sat upon the ground, staring at the carnage wrought upon the Eyarha Plains. He did not weep or complain, simply staring emptily at the cost of his ambitions.

"My Lord," Huang Xue greeted him, "I beg your pardon, but I have a report."

"What is it?" Asked Arin, never taking his eyes away from the carnage.

"We are still taking count, but I wager the enemy to have lost half their number," Huang Xue reported, "And without their leaders, it is likely they will fall apart and return to squabbling among themselves. The Crownlands, especially, with their primarily leadership dead. As for the Stormlands, the nobles will likely fight to crown one of their own as the new King."

"What about House Baratheon?" Asked Arin.

"With all their male heirs dead, Argella has taken her daughters with what few men she trusts on a ship to Essos," Said Huang Xue, "I believe she has given up any idea of preserving her family's throne after being betrayed once for her gender."

"Sadly, that's just how misogynistic and patriarchal Westeros is," Arin shrugged, "What of our own forces?"

Huang Xue sighed with reluctance, "We've also lost half our number, and with so many villages, towns and forts burned, it will be years before we can regain our war footing."

"Perhaps, yet we can't truly stop, not until all of Westeros is under our control," Arin Rada declared resolutely, before sighing with fatigue, "What of Eckard Blodfeld and his forces?"

"Surprisingly, they have not expanded their territory that much, My Lord," Said Huang Xue, "They repelled some raids by the Freys, took the Barrowlands and the lands of House Manderly, but not much more."

"Anything else?" Asked Arin.

"Not really, other than that they're taking a very slow course of expansion," Said Huang Xue, "They're focusing on upgrading the infrastructure of any territory they capture, and increasing the number of ships at their command. The Northmen, on the other hand, seem content to not improve their tactics in the slightest."

"...How long until we can go back to a war footing?" Asked Arin.

"Two to three years at the very least," Huang Xue stated, "No shorter than that."

Arin nodded, groaning under his breath.

"Tell the men to clean up, and then rest. We depart back to Zolha Noy for proper treatment tomorrow," Said Arin.

"As you command," Huang Xue said.

As Huang Xue took his leave, there was the flapping of wings and the subtle landing associated with a dragon's weight thumping on the ground. Arin heard voices, but did not turn around, simply maintaining his thousand-yard stare at the battlefield.

It took several minutes before he finally heard someone call to him.

"Arin," Elaegelle said.

"Elaegelle," Arin said, his eyes never moving.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"...No, Elaegelle. I'm not," Arin admitted, his voice breaking just a miniscule measure.

Elaegelle's eyes slowly took in the scenery of macabre carnage all around her. The bloodstained sand, the heaps of bodies piled in mountains, the rivers of blood flowing around, the broken faces of war veterans who saw and lost too much. She could not bring herself to smile at their victory, so dear was the price. Instead, she felt like weeping for all those lost, and in her heart, she cursed Maegor and all her siblings who supported this war against her adopted homeland.

She winced at the pain in her arms, makeshift bandages stained red on her arms. Her facial wound would scar, and most men would be scared of scarred ladies. Not Lorrent, not the ever-faithful, loyal and brave husband who stayed by her side.

She took a seat beside Arin, staring as he did, their eyes never leaving the battlefield.

"How many more must die before Dorne can ever have peace?" She muttered.

"...I can't say," Said Arin. "Too many already did all those years back when your father began his conquest. Too many did when we purged the scourge in Essos. Too many have on this day beneath their native Sun as their forebears did. Too many will likely follow still. It is the nature of war."

Between all the various players in Westeros who cling to power, such a grim and bloody outcome was only natural.

At this point, all Dorne could do was lick its wounds and prepare for the next battle. Any challenge that they encounter, they will weather together, no matter what.

A/N: Hope y'all enjoy the battle climax for this chapter. Following chapters will feature a few interludes showing different perspectives of the ongoing civil strife.

Defenders VS Attackers (1st Round):

99 15 (Experience) 25 (Blessed Dragon) - 10 (Outnumbered - 10 (Fewer Dragons) = 114

VS

126

Defenders VS Attackers (2nd Round):

84 15 (Experience) 25 (Blessed Dragon) - 10 (Outnumbered - 10 (Fewer Dragons) = 104

VS

56

Defenders VS Attackers (3rd Round):

91 15 (Experience) 25 (Blessed Dragon) - 10 (Outnumbered - 10 (Fewer Dragons) = 111

VS

100