Hello every one, here is the next chapter, and remember, there is another chapter coming up soon! This is a two-chapter update! So stay tuned for another update!

So, here is what the next schedule looks like!

-The White Lion of the Red Keep (One more chapter)

-Overlord Geass (One Chapter)

-Harriet Potter: The Demon Empress.

Alright, that would be all!

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Chapter 39

The symphony of carnage and destruction echoed across the land as the clash between two large armies commenced. Painful grunts, enraged screams, and the resounding impact of steel meeting flesh intertwined to create this chaotic chorus. The Queen's royal army and the Blackfyre pretender army seemed evenly matched, not necessarily in terms of numbers, but in terms of combat expertise. Both forces boasted a wealth of seasoned fighters—skilled swordsmen and riders with years, if not decades, of experience. The outcome of the battle hung in the balance, teetering on the edge of uncertainty, waiting for one side to seize the advantage.

If someone were to ask about the outcome on each side, the answer would be quite different. However, the queen's army fought with great determination and managed to push back the Golden Company. Despite his age, Ser Barristan remained one of the most lethal knights on the battlefield. His movements were so precise that those unfortunate enough to face him were swiftly defeated.

His energy was dwindling rapidly, yet he managed to spare a moment to observe his surroundings. In that brief moment, he witnessed the gallant struggle of the remaining queensguard as they engaged in combat. Though he would describe their efforts as valiant, the truth was that those who shared his armour and oath were obliterating their adversaries without mercy. Both Brienne of Tarth and the Hound were colossal figures, effortlessly dispatching their foes with each swing of their swords. The Hound, in particular, seemed to thrive in this environment, revelling in the savage fury of a wild beast as he unleashed deafening screams and roars.

Ser Loras Tyrell was not only a remarkable knight but also an exceptional swordsman. Ser Barristan had always held this belief, and witnessing Loras donning his cloak instead of fighting against them only reaffirmed it. This sight served as a reminder of the queen's wisdom in keeping such a skilled swordsman by her side. But Ser Loras also reminded him of Ser Jaime; the same smirk on their faces could be seen anywhere on the battlefield.

It was quite amusing to witness both of them engage in a battle of skill right in the middle of the battlefield. However, Ser Barristan was well aware that, at present, as long as they fulfilled their duties, he couldn't be less concerned.

"Elephants!" a soldier screamed as Ser Barristan saw those creatures from the world's farthest reaches before him. Those creatures were causing problems as they stomped the queen's soldiers, breaking the vanguard. Ser Barristand didn't know why, but he could only scream a set of names that he knew would deal with them.

"Mya! Gendry!" Ser Barristand called out, and without delay, the queen's half-siblings emerged as if out of thin air. Mya swiftly demonstrated her exceptional reflexes and expertise, much like an eagle, by flawlessly shooting several arrows into the eyes of one of the elephants. The beast let out a piercing screech in response. Following suit, Gendry stepped forward, wielding his war hammer, and forcefully struck the elephant's leg with a resounding thud.

It's hard to believe that a human could inflict such tremendous harm on a creature of that magnitude. However, Gendry, being human himself, received magical enhancements from Galadriel, just like Mya. She made every effort to maximise their strength and capabilities, and it showed by the damage he inflicted on the elephant's leg.

"Archers, aim for the head! Spears, target the feet!" Mya shouted, her words quickly echoed by the others. Though it took time, their strategic position ultimately enabled them to halt the charging elephants.

"Push! Push them back to the sea!" Ser Barristan bellowed, urging the forces of Westeros to redouble their efforts. Though the momentum was currently on their side, the battle was far from won. Keeping this in mind, Ser Barristan took a moment to inhale deeply, ensuring his body would not fail him just yet. Not now. Ser Barristan refused to meet his end in this unforgiving place. There was still much he needed to accomplish, much he yearned to witness. Among his deepest desires was the sight of true peace and to see his queen achieve all her dreams.

It seemed as though his voice had the ability to carry far beyond as the royal army, either fuelled by their remaining strength or by the unexpected burst of light that struck the queen's army, began to fight with fierce determination. The storm clouds that once filled the sky had dissipated, allowing the rays of light to gradually break through. It was this peculiar light that filled them all with a sense of vigour and strength, though they couldn't quite comprehend why it affected them so intensely.

"Kill them all! Do not allow the Golden Company to escape! Put an end to the Blackfyre right here, right now!" Ser Barristan shouted, rallying the royal army into action. Soon, they began to advance and push forward. Surprisingly, the muddy ground halted the rampage of the elephants, preventing any real damage. The abundance of mud immobilised even the scorpions brought by the golden company, causing the engineers and soldiers to swiftly abandon them.

The soldiers of the Golden Company started to perceive a sudden change in the tempo, and it was working against them. They made an effort to push forward but were unable to, as they found themselves gradually being pushed back. However, what truly altered the course of events was the sudden roar that echoed through the sky, accompanied by the emergence of colossal shadows that cast their cover over the land.

"Dragons!" One soldier yelled, and when the soldiers saw those giant creatures, they knew it was all over. The first ones to leave the battlefield were the mercenaries, who came along with the Golden Company. They weren't paid enough to deal with such creatures.

The larger dragon with black scales opened his mouth and brought down to them the fire of the deepest room of hell, as even the mud became his victim. Panic began to erupt in the army of the pretender, as even the loyal and fierce Golden Company could not believe the size of those dragons. None of them believed it, and there were three of them.

"D-Dragons!"

"Run! Run!"

"Fuck this, I ain't dying here!"

As they fled, screams erupted from their lips, yet there was nowhere to escape, for the flames engulfing their fleet were visible even from the battleground where they stood. The vast expanse of the blackened veil stretched for miles, as did the overpowering odour of death.

Among them, there was a sense of dread as Rhaegar's "son" watched his dreams slowly fade away. His gaze fixed on the sky, where the dragons commanded both awe and fear, even sparking a hint of jealousy within him. However, these thoughts abruptly ceased when he caught wind of his men retreating from the battlefield in droves. Only the Golden Company remained, standing firm at the forefront as they always had. But not for long.

"My king! My king! We are losing ground!" One of the commanders of the Golden Company yelled, ending Aegons' thoughts. "The dragon's fire has burned our ships! And are blocking our escape!"

Aegon was fully aware that his journey to Westeros was a one-way trip. There would be no second chances, and he had no expectations of returning. This opportunity to claim the throne was his one and only shot. He had no intention of surrendering, not now, not ever.

"Jon, we have to rally the man!" Aegon screamed, making Jon Connington glance at him. "We will not run—no more. Scorpions, look at the sky and see where the queen is! It takes just one! One shot!"

"What are you doing?" Jon Connington asked as he stared at Aegon, putting on his distinct dragon helmet.

"I am leading, my friend. That's what a king does."

Aegon then rode his horse and began to rally the men running away. He held the banner of the Targaryen house as the fire surrounded the battlefield. Jon Connington did not let himself dream; he simply glanced at one of the scorpions that was already prepared, but the cowards who were supposed to use it fled the moment the dragon appeared.

Jon then looked above him and saw the queen, who had snowy white hair on top of the large Black Dragon. Then he recalled Aegon's words. It only takes one shot. Jon then growled as he saw the spawn of the man who took everything from him. Robert's child would face death there.

"I'll end it! Here and now!"

Up in the sky, Galadriel let out a louder yawn, seemingly unaffected by the fact that her dragons were mercilessly incinerating people below. Surprisingly, she felt slightly annoyed and bothered by the fact that she had missed out on much of the battle. She longed for some up-close experiences similar to what she had enjoyed in the past. However, it seemed that fate had other plans for her.

"We are late," Galadriel mumbled as she sighed deeply. "It doesn't matter… we are winning. Let's make sure to end it, then."

Galadriel acknowledged Smaug and Scatha with a slight nod as the two dragons commenced their natural instincts, burning and devouring. However, they were careful not to harm Galadriel's army, leaving everything else as fair game. Meanwhile, Galadriel's gaze shifted downwards, where she observed the alleged son of Rhaegar Targaryen leading the vanguard, relentlessly attempting to breach the line defended valiantly by Ser Barristan and her queensguard.

The sight brought a chuckle to Galadriel, amused by the brave young man or perhaps a fool, depending on one's perspective. The Golden Company found themselves outnumbered, forced to fight not out of inspiration from their leader but due to having no other option but to move forward. It all seemed quite pathetic to Galadriel, witnessing such a disappointing end for this figure. Initially, Galadriel desired to humiliate him, to bring him down to his knees. However, she soon realised that it would be a complete waste of her time.

"Ah, why is it that I always seem to have such bad luck? First my father, then Joffrey, and now this..." Galadriel let out a deep sigh as she gazed down at the chaos unfolding beneath her. Suddenly, one of her abilities kicked in and a projectile was headed straight towards her. With a nonchalant gesture, Galadriel casually tilted her head, causing time to seemingly slow down. As if observing each individual frame, she noticed a repulsive-looking man perched atop a scorpion, taking aim at her with a massive arrow.

Galadriel was surprised. It appeared that the man had one-in-a-million luck with that shot—a perfect and directed hit towards her. Galadriel then hummed deeply before glancing at her wings, and then a big smirk appeared on her face.

"What good is having wings if I cannot use them?" Galadriel smiled as time began to return back to normal speed. "Ancalagon, I need you to act a bit for me."

Beneath them, Mya was suddenly hit by a cold breeze, causing a shiver to run through her body. It seemed like she wasn't the only one who felt it. The queensguard also noticed the massive arrow being launched from the scorpions, heading straight towards their queen, who seemed oblivious to the imminent danger. Time seemed to slow down as they watched the black dragon swiftly react to something, and they all witnessed the arrow piercing through the dragon's back, where Galadriel was perched.

"Galadriel!" Mya yelled at the top of her lungs, her voice filled with horror as she witnessed the unfolding scene. Suddenly, Galadriel's body came hurtling down from the sky. The sight of their queen's lifeless form descending left everyone paralysed with shock, their hearts pounding so intensely that saying they stopped would be an understatement.

"Oh no, I'm falling! Nyooo~!" Galadriel exclaimed. Although no one could hear her, she wanted to put on a show. As her body neared the ground, she gracefully twisted and started flapping her wings. Much to everyone's astonishment, she took to the sky and soared as if it were second nature to her.

Galadriel, at that moment, took flight above the battlefield, resembling a celestial being in every sense. All eyes were fixed upon her as time seemed to momentarily halt. The queensguard stood in awe, observing their queen gracefully soar amidst the chaos, her majestic wings captivating all who beheld them.

"The fuck? Now she fucking fly?" The Hound muttered, astonished.

"It appears she does," Jaime said as he watched his niece soaring through the skies. "Cersei is not going to believe this."

"By the gods, all and new, she is truly the blessed one," Brienne added, astonished.

"I am going to kill her, I swear," Mya sighed deeply, as she could feel her poor heart almost in her throat.

"Stay focused! The battle is far from over!" Ser Barristan's voice boomed, urging his men to press on. However, it was evident that with a dragon fighting on their side, the battle had transformed into a gruesome massacre. The elephants, once formidable, now served as mere appetisers for the insatiable dragons, who devoured them whole. Scatha descended to the ground, using its long tail to sweep away lines of men attempting to flee the relentless assault. Smaug seemed to relish the scent of fear permeating the air, adopting the instincts of a predator as it hunted down escaping soldiers. Meanwhile, Ancalagon soared overhead like a colossal mountain, engulfing everything in its path with blazing flames.

The battle ended not too long after, and sadly to Galadriel, she had not much time to truly enjoy herself watching the mayhem. Yet, hope remains to truly find enjoyment.

"Your grace, here are the prisoners and the pretender," Jaime said, as he, just like everyone else, was covered in blood, mud and ashes. A heavy mist of ashes surrounded the entire battlefield, and the faraway screams of pain could be still heard. Yet, the battle was over.

Galadriel remained motionless in front of them, her expansive wings unfurling to assert her dominance and disperse the dense mist enveloping them. This unexpected display not only startled the prisoners but also caught the attention of the soldiers and the queensguard.

I must say, I look quite cool. Galadriel thought to herself, but she quickly refocused her attention on the prisoners standing before her. Her gaze settled on one in particular, who appeared to be a mercenary captain—possibly the sole survivor among those who were paid to come to Westeros. In an attempt to engage him, Galadriel inquired, "May I know your name?" The captain visibly swallowed hard, his throat parched and constricted with intense fear.

"Sotros Liltoris of Myr… your grace," the mercenary spoke.

"How many men are you with?" Galadriel asked.

"For what I can see, less than a hundred. I'm not sure how many will make it through the night. A significant number are critically injured."

Galadriel nodded, her gaze fixed upon the young Blackfyre fire bastard, who caught her staring and responded with a scoff. She then shifted her attention to the mercenary captain.

"Ser Brienne, please escort Sotros Liltoris of Myr to his men. I would like them to be sent back to the masters, where they can receive assistance and be returned to Essos," Galadriel announced, causing surprise among those present, although no one voiced any objections. "The war has come to an end. I don't want more unnecessary deaths."

Ser Brienne's eyes could look more pleased to hear that. "At once, your grace," she responded and quickly obeyed.

Galadriel then looked down at Rheagar's supposed son and sighed deeply in a very dramatic fashion.

"Are you content with this little invasion of yours?" Galadriel asked. "How many died because of your delusions, child?"

"Child?" Aegon mumbled. "I am not a child, nor someone who you can even comprehend. I did what I most in order to claim what is mine."

"Yours? Claim what belongs to you? You can't claim anything. You're a disguised Blackfyre who has been brainwashed to believe a false identity. I have more Targaryen blood than you do," Galadriel said, almost amused by Aegon's words.

"Lies! He is the rightful ruler of Westeros, Rhaegar's son!"

Galadriel looked at the man beside Aegon. She didn't truly recognise him, but the rest did. "Who is this man?" She asked.

"Jon Connington, your grace," Ser Barristan replied.

"Ah, the man who was exiled because he failed to capture my father. I see, so you have also fallen for those lies. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Galadriel sighed, her tone laced with mockery. "You have fallen so much that you're chasing Blackfyre's promises."

"I am not a Blackfyre!" Aegon screamed as he tried to stand up, only to be pushed down by Jaime.

"Stay right there, you bastard," Jaime muttered angrily, thoroughly disgusted by the audacity of this young boy, claiming to be Rhaegar's son. And he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Ser Barristand also gazed at Aegon, his expression filled with nothing but disdain. Having known Rhaegar more intimately than anyone else, perhaps except for Jon Connington, he failed to see even the slightest resemblance in the boy.

"Ser Barristan, you knew Rhaegar just as well as I did. How could you don that cloak and betray the sole remaining son of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen?! Do you not feel any shame?! How could you forsake your sworn oath?!" Jon Connington shouted, causing Ser Barristan's expression to turn stern and icy. Nothing infuriated the aged knight more than someone challenging his integrity, honour and oath.

"I have never betrayed my oath, and I will always stay true to my commitment. He is not Rhaegar's son. Even if he was, my oath is to protect and serve the queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Those words left Aegon speechless; his heartbroken expression mirrored in his small mouth as he stared at Ser Barristan. However, it was Galadriel who took it upon herself to shatter any hope that had taken root in his mind. With an air of inspiration and a touch of drama, Galadriel aimed to make him feel insignificant, to make him understand that success was never within his grasp. He was nothing more than a pawn in her grand scheme. And so, with that intent, Galadriel approached him, unfurling her majestic wings and revealing her piercing golden eyes to the Blackfyre bastard.

"Behold, Blackfyre child, gaze upon me. The gods have bestowed upon me their blessings to guide Westeros into a new era. My mighty dragons should have served as a clear indication, yet you foolishly deceived yourself into believing you were deserving of the throne. Alas, you are nothing. You shall perish as a nobody. Your name shall fade into obscurity, for you are neither Targaryen nor conqueror. The victors are the ones who dictate history," Galadriel declared, her face exuding triumph as she addressed Aegon. "Ser Barristan, if possible, carry out the task swiftly and without suffering. For I am a merciful ruler, after all."

Galadriel's voice echoed, sounding regal and empress-like. Ser Barristan approached Aegon, who seemed too stunned to speak. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Aegon wasn't meant to die far from home. He was destined to revive the Targaryen dynasty as the next great ruler. Yet, there he was, on his knees with a sword ready to cut his head.

"In the name of Galadriel Baratheon, the first of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Holy Princess and Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, the Blessed Queen and Divine of Westeros, I hereby sentence you to death," declared Ser Barristan. Aegon attempted to gaze upon him, to plead for mercy, but before he could utter a word, the sword swiftly descended, severing Aegon's head from his body.

That's a long title, Ser Barristan. Galadriel groaned deeply, realising her name would soon get even longer.

"No!" Jon Connington yelled as Ser Jaime kept him in place. "I'll kill you! All of you!"

Galadriel looked at Jon Connington and noticed his hand. "What's on his hand?" Galadriel asked, and soon Jaime quickly pulled a part of his shirt to showcase the Greyscale.

"That's Greyscale, your grace," Ser Loras said in the back.

"Poor bastard, he is a walking corpse," The Hound muttered.

Galadriel was curious about such things, but decided to explore them elsewhere, and she had an idea where to look at them. But first, she must deal with the screaming man before her.

"Ser Barristan," Galadriel said, and the old knight simply nodded.

"The seven hells damn you, Barristan. You've betrayed everything Rhaegar fought for!" Jon's words echoed with unbridled rage. However, Ser Barristan remained unaffected by his outburst. Jaime restrained Jon, while Ser Barristan, without bothering to repeat his previous words, swiftly severed Jon Connington's head. Thus, marking the end of the sixth Blackfyre rebellion.

Well, this is quite disappointing. I should have just used [Arcane Nuclear singularity], but that would have killed all the people here and left a giant hole in the Stormlands. I hope I'll face a new god soon. I want to fight with my power. Galadriel thought before looking back at the destruction around her.

"It's done then," Galadriel sighed deeply. "How many we lost?"

"We haven't done a complete count, your grace," Ser Barristan mumbled softly as he cleaned his sword.

"Let's head home now, for it's time for the soldiers to rest. They have been through numerous wars in such a short span of time, and I truly wish for them to return to their families. They truly deserve it."

"That would be good, your grace."

Galadriel glanced at the sky, and a smile formed on her face as she started to flutter her wings. "Let's not mention the whole 'falling from the sky' incident to Mother, shall we?" Galadriel suggested, and with that, she gracefully unfurled her wings and soared into the heavens.

"How are we supposed to protect her if she is flying around?" The Hound muttered.

"I can give you a piggyback," Mya said with a smirk.

"Fuck off."