The Riverlands ― South of the Gods Eye…
The Riverlands were enveloped in darkness as the full moon stayed hidden behind the dense clouds, casting only a faint glow in the night sky. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves as a gentle breeze whispered through the trees. Shadows danced along the banks of the Trident, its waters reflecting the muted hues of the night, creating an eerie tapestry of dark blues and silvers. The landscape felt strangely muted, devoid of the usually vibrant sounds of nocturnal creatures. The croaking of frogs and the chirping of crickets were absent, leaving an unsettling silence that seemed to press down on the land. The tall grasses swayed gently, their tips brushing against one another like hushed secrets shared among old friends.
Then, all the birds in the godswood on the Isle of Faces took to the air in fright, and a hot wind whipped the fallen leaves across the yard.
Vhagar soared through the skies from Harrenhal to the Gods Eye, and on her back rode the one-eyed Prince Aemond Targaryen, clad in nightblack armor chased with gold. Once he learned of Aeonar's presence in the Riverlands and experienced Alys' prophetic vision from the flames, Aemond took Alys with him. Her lustrous, black hair flowed behind her, and her belly was visibly swollen with child. Aemond cautiously combed through the area, straining his eye to spot any sign of movement or presence. His anticipation had been building for what felt like an eternity, and at last, the time had arrived to face Aeonar in a fierce showdown. However, the cover of night hung heavily over the land, shrouding everything in an inky blackness that made it nearly impossible to discern anything in the distance.
"Gīmī kesīr lēkia issa! (I know you're here, brother!)" Aemond shouted, his voice echoing across the Gods Eye. "Nāgeltigon aōla! (Show yourself!)"
Suddenly, a deafening explosion echoed through the air, originating deep within the forest. Aemond, perched atop his dragon, quickly turned his head as the faint vibrations spread through the atmosphere. The sheer intensity of the blast suggested a significant event had occurred to trigger such a powerful reaction. The shockwave was so potent that even Vhagar, the Queen of All Dragons, could feel it resonate from high above, instinctively prompting her to turn towards the source of the disturbance.
"*Ruuuuuuuu!*" Vhagar growled.
There you are! Aemond smirked. "Mazilībus, Vagar! (Go down, Vhagar!)"
"*Urrrraaaa!*" As Vhagar descended from the sky, her massive wings beat the air to slow her descent, creating a thunderous sound. With a forceful landing, the Queen of All Dragons let out a deep, ominous growl as she surveyed the scene before her.
Aemond swiftly dismounted from his dragon, the powerful creature's wings folding behind it with a thunderous rustle. Driven by a sudden, almost primal urge, he commenced his search through the devastated landscape. The forest was now a haunting tableau of destruction, still reeling from the catastrophic effects of the explosion that had ripped through its heart. Charred wood lay scattered like the bones of fallen giants, and singed leaves clung desperately to their branches, their once lush green now reduced to a brittle blackened husk. The acrid scent of ash and burnt bark permeated the air, creating an extensive radius of devastation that seemed to choke the air he breathed. Aemond felt the oppressive heat against his skin, a reminder of the chaos that had unfolded moments before. Yet, he pressed on, relentless in his quest to find Aeonar. Each step he took was heavy with the weight of caution, the forest floor crunching beneath his boots as he navigated the treacherous terrain. The silence around him was deafening, broken only by the occasional crackle of smoldering embers and the distant calls of birds that had yet to return to their homes.
As Aemond rounded a bend, the moment's tranquility shattered when a large branch, weakened by the fire, snapped and plummeted to the ground with a resounding crash. Aemond's reflexes kicked in, and he skillfully evaded the falling debris. However, as he turned back to regain his bearings, he was confronted with a chilling sight—a gruesome tableau: one of his scouts lay grotesquely impaled on a stake, the sharp end piercing through the anus and protruding from the mouth, a macabre display of violence that spoke of a brutal end. The man's eyes were wide open, frozen in a final expression of terror. Blood, dark and congealed, pooled around the base of the stake, a stark contrast to the charred earth that surrounded it.
Hm. A little extreme, perhaps, even for you, brother. How deliciously cold-blooded.
Continuing his search, Aemond stumbled upon three more of his men, their bodies horrifically disfigured, grotesque remnants of what had once been scouts. Limbs and heads lay severed from their torsos, scattered like discarded playthings, a macabre testament to the brutality they were up against. Further along the path, he then discovered two scouts. Their remains had been reduced to charred husks, blackened and twisted by fire, grotesquely hanging from a gnarled tree by a noose. The flames that had consumed them had left behind a stench of burnt flesh that clung to the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the forest. As he pressed on, the forest seemed to close, shadows stretching and twisting in the fading light. Then, he discovered his final two scouts: one had met a tragic end after falling into a pit, impaled on sharp punji stakes. The trap had been cleverly concealed under a deceptive layer of leaves, rendering it invisible to the unsuspecting scout. Unfortunately, it was too late when the terrified soul realized what was happening. The cruel spikes ensured that escape was impossible. The last scout had suffered a horrific fate. Tightly bound to the branches of a tree, he was a grotesque figure of agonized torture, his flesh cruelly stripped away as he was skinned alive, leaving behind a raw, bloody canvas that told a story of unimaginable pain. The scout's eyes, wide with terror, seemed to plead for mercy that would never come.
"Grrr! Mittys. (Fools.)" Aemond cursed under his breath. It became clear why none of his men had returned; Aeonar had intercepted them before they could report back. There were no indications of a fight. The scouts had been caught completely off guard and attempted to flee but fell victim to one trap after another. Yet, this did not account for the fire or the explosion he had witnessed earlier. If there had been another dragon in the area, Vhagar would have picked up their scent from miles away. Strangely, she had not. As he surveyed the burnt forest, Aemond noticed several dark, murky puddles scattered among the trees and the ground, each isolated from the others. He tapped a puddle, brought it to his face, and sniffed it. "Gagh! Dragon piss," he recoiled in disgust. Aemond then noticed the many discarded empty vials. Clever, Aeonar. Very, very clever. Mask the area with a dragon's urine to try to throw us off our trail.
Aeonar's actions had thrown a wrench into Aemond's carefully laid plans, and he knew that he would have to adapt quickly if he wanted to come out on top. Aemond understood the necessity of not underestimating his older half-brother and the importance of keeping his guard against any unforeseen strategies Aeonar might have up his sleeve. More traps might still be nearby; he could not afford to be caught off guard like his scouts were. Furthermore, with the pervasive presence of potent dragon urine saturating the area, Vhagar would require considerable time to track down Vaelor properly. The scent was a reminder of the dragon marking his territory, but it also served as a warning. Aemond knew that the longer he lingered, the more vulnerable he became to Aeonar's schemes. As Aemond delved deeper into the forest, the shadows grew thicker, and the air became heavy with anticipation. Each step was measured, his senses heightened, aware that danger could lurk behind every tree. Suddenly, he spotted a cloaked figure with their back turned towards him. The distinctive black cloak, adorned with ancient High Valyrian symbols, was unmistakable; it belonged to the grandmaster of the Lykirī Mēre - Aeonar! He was here.
"Brother," Aemond said coolly. "I understand you've been looking for me. My Alys saw you in a storm cloud, in a mountain pool at dusk, in the fire we lit to cook our suppers. She sees much and more. You were a fool to come alone."
Aeonar stood with his back to him, his movements deliberate as he lifted the Valyrian steel dagger inch by inch. "So… you've come this far, and still… you understand… nothing!" he said, quickly slashing at a rope and cutting it.
Aemond's ears perked up a rustling sound amidst the dense foliage. Whatever it was that Aeonar cut seemed to have triggered a chain reaction. Without hesitation, Aemond spun around and sprinted away at full speed. The forest came alive with danger as deadfall traps sprung into action, unleashing a barrage of makeshift arrows from various angles. A tied-up stump swung dangerously close, a spiked tree catapult lurched towards his leg, palm fronds and branches concealed trip wires and holes, while 30 sharpened branch pieces descended from above. Aemond crouched, evaded, and maneuvered, striving to escape the forest, his breathing becoming rapid.
« Dakogon daor ruartan kostagon, Āemond! Daorys ruartan hen nykēla! Jemēla gēlȳni enkā!(You can run, but you can't hide, Aemond! No one hides from me! You owe a debt!) »
Every step Aemond took seemed to trigger another trap, each more deadly than the last. The forest seemed to come alive around him, an evil force intent on his destruction. His mind raced as he tried to anticipate the next move of the forest, his survival instincts kicking into overdrive. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins; his senses heightened as he navigated the treacherous terrain. As he neared the forest's edge, Aemond could see a glimmer of hope in the distance. The clearing beyond the trees beckoned to him, promising safety and respite from the deadly traps that threatened to ensnare him. He pushed himself forward with a burst of speed, leaping over pitfalls and ducking under swinging branches.
Finally, with one final leap, Aemond burst through the foliage and into the clearing where Vhagar awaited. However, a sudden surge of pain shot through his right leg as he discovered Valyrian throwing stars were embedded into his flesh. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg, Aemond gritted his teeth and yanked the stars from his leg, discarding them onto the ground. With a grim determination, he tore a strip of cloth from his tunic and wrapped it tightly around the wound, trying to stem the bleeding as best he could.
« Hembīnna aderī? (Leaving so soon?) »
"*Raaaaaaoooo!*" Vhagar roared.
Aemond raised his gaze, his eye catching the sight of a fiery arrow arcing through the air, streaking past them with alarming speed. Following its trajectory, he noticed a viscous, dark substance mingled with a vibrant green liquid seeping through the dry underbrush. Wildfire! Just as as realization dawned upon him, the arrow struck the slick material, triggering an explosive ignition that transformed the landscape into a raging inferno, a fierce wall of flames consuming everything in its path.
"*ROAAAAAAAAAA!*" Vhagar let out a deafening roar as she reared up on her hind legs, surprised by the sight of wildfire. Though dragonflame was the superior element, Vhagar had never seen wildfire before. The green flames created a massive wall of fire that seemed to engulf everything in its path, blocking their way forward. The wildfire crackled and hissed, dancing and swirling in a chaotic frenzy, sending sparks flying in all directions.
Emerging from the fiery depths of the forest, Aeonar boldly approached them. "It's not much fun when the hunter becomes the hunted, isn't it, Aemond?" He said menacingly, his smirk transforming into a deep frown. "Being hunted… just the way you hunted down my son Daeron. Does it hurt?!"
Aemond snarled. "Grrr! Dracarys, Vagar! (Vhagar!)" he commanded.
Vhagar fixed her intense gaze on Aeonar, her powerful jaws parting to reveal a brilliant flame flickering within. With a thunderous roar, she unleashed a fierce torrent of dragonfire aimed straight at her adversary. Aemond stood, watching as the Queen of All Dragons unleashed her fiery wrath upon the Young Dragon. When the flames finally died down, he leaned in for a closer look, only to find not a pile of ash but the charred remains of the Lykirī Mēre grandmaster robes, entirely consumed by the blaze. Strangely, there was no sign of a body—no remains to be found. It was as if Aeonar had vanished into thin air, leaving only the smoldering remnants of his robes.
"A worthy effort, but futile."
Aemond glanced to his left and spotted Aeonar leaning casually against a tree, his posture relaxed. Yet, his eyes locked onto him with a predatory gaze as if he were merely enjoying silently taunting him. Gone were his Lykirī Mēre grandmaster robes; Aeonar was now clad in Aegon the Conqueror's Valyrian steel armor and armed with Blackfyre and his Valyrian steel dagger. Beneath the armor, Aeonar wore a tunic crafted from dragon leather, supple yet resilient, offering him protection from dragonflame and mobility. Despite the chaos that had unfolded moments before, Aemond was taken aback by Aeonar's appearance. A few singed strands of hair framed his face, but beyond that, he looked almost completely unscathed. There wasn't a single burn or mark on his skin. The Targaryens were indeed the only remaining dragonlords known for their heat resistance, but they were not entirely immune to fire. So how? How come Vhagar's attack didn't faze Aeonar?
"How?!" Aemond demanded.
Aeonar shook his head. "You think I didn't come prepared?" he sneered. "I have no use for pets who don't listen to their masters." Reaching into his pocket with his left hand, he pulled out an old Valyrian gold medallion. "Visenya's medallion is of no further use to me anymore." Dropping it, he raised his foot and crushed it, shattering it into pieces.
Vhagar emitted a low, menacing growl as her gaze fixed on the shattered pieces of the medallion. Her first rider, Queen Visenya Targaryen, wore this once-precious artifact during the War of Conquest. Passed down from one beloved rider to another - from Prince Baelon Targaryen to Lady Laena Velaryon - the medallion held great sentimental value to the Queen of All Dragons. Witnessing Aeonar's wanton destruction of this cherished symbol filled the ancient dragon with a wave of intense and simmering anger. "*Grrrrrraaaa!*" she growled.
"Ruhagho ziry vēdroso daoriot? (It makes you angry, doesn't it?)" Aeonar remarked before turning his sights toward Aemond. "I've been waiting for this."
Despite his outward appearance, Aemond remained composed even though he was seething inside. "Yet you are, and here I am. However, I still ride the largest dragon in the world," he rebuffed. "And you lived long enough, brother. But don't worry. I'll send you to your boy soon."
That made Aeonar more pissed. "For what you did to Daeron… you will suffer! I will burn you alive for that, boy!" he brandished Blackfyre and the Valyrian steel dagger, one in each hand. "Just like I burned her!"
Aemond came to a sudden stop, pondering Aeonar's words. What did Aeonar mean by "Just like I burned her"? It suggested that Aeonar had taken something from a woman he knew. Aemond mulled over the statement, racking his brain to figure out who Aeonar was referring to until suddenly, the realization hit him. "Mother?" he whispered.
Aeonar smirked wickedly. "Oh, you mean you didn't know?" he taunted. "Your bitch mother died screaming. A death reserved for the worst of all traitors to House Targaryen! But you know what? I loved it. Watching her scream in terror and seeing her flesh turn black and fall off their bones gave me more relief than a thousand broken promises!" It was clear his words were intended to worm their way into Aemond's head, to provoke a reaction; it was a form of psychological warfare. If Aeonar could goad Aemond into becoming more reckless, he would be more likely to make a mistake. "Like all malcontents who know nothing of war, you couldn't grasp the long-term strategy. You, who were so focused on retaking Harrenhal, left your family completely defenseless - leaving them with no way out. It was all too easy once the trap was sprung. They needed you, Aemond, but you knowingly left them to their fate. You abandoned them. You let your own mother die! How does it feel?"
Aemond's anger was palpable; the loud, sharp breaths he took through his nose grew louder, echoing in the tense silence of the chamber. Each inhalation felt like a battle against the rising fury that threatened to consume him. He could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a physical manifestation of the storm brewing within. The urge to charge at Aeonar, to unleash the pent-up frustration and humiliation that churned in his gut, was almost overwhelming. But deep down, he knew that was exactly what his older half-brother was hoping for—a reckless display of emotion that would only give Aeonar an advantage. He was reveling in the moment, basking in outsmarting Aemond, and that only added insult to injury. The fact that Aeonar had orchestrated this entire scenario, presenting Harrenhal as a tempting prize while leaving the Caltrops' central leadership and Aemond's family vulnerable to the Young Dragon's whims, felt like a dagger to the one-eyed prince's pride. Every word that spilled from Aeonar's lips was laced with condescension; each boasts a reminder of Aemond's mistake.
"Oh, but one more thing. I have an old friend who's eager to see you again. I believe you know him all too well.~"
After a while of eagerly willing Vhagar to unleash an attack on Aeonar, Aemond suddenly noticed a deep, thunderous rumble and felt the ground quiver beneath his feet. The powerful, rhythmic thuds, like the footsteps of a large dragon, echoed through the air. The noise grew louder, and the ground tremors became more intense with each step.
"*Grrrrrrr!*" Vhagar detected the unmistakable aroma of another dragon in the vicinity. This scent differed from the faint traces left on the trees and soil, which had complicated her ability to pinpoint its origin; instead, it became increasingly intense. As she sniffed the air, the Queen of All Dragons subtly turned her head to the right, observing the landscape where entire swathes of trees were being toppled or violently displaced by a massive force, uprooting them easily. Gradually, a silhouette emerged, revealing another dragon, nearly matching her own size, approaching Vhagar and Aemond, and this one stood behind Aeonar. "*Urrrrrrooooo!*" Vhagar growled.
It was Vaelor!
"*RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOHH!*"
Chapter End
Author's Note: Well, everyone, here we go. Part One of the Battle Above the Gods Eye is now released. The epic confrontation between Aeonar and Aemond, Vhagar and Vaelor you've all been waiting for. Considering this will take time to complete, I'll be breaking it into multiple parts so pardon if this one ends on a cliffhanger. Part Two will be underway soon so be ready for a dragon fight! Until then, I'll be doing some Q&A in the reviews and posting them here in case if anyone has questions.
Dante 101: Once this battle is over, the Caltrops are defeated & the war is over. But...
1) There's a lot of devastation done to Westeros from the Dance & the Black's will have to rebuild. How will reconstruction efforts go?
―A slow, arduous process
2) What will the status of House Peake & the Caltrops be after the Dance? Will things be the same for them?
―I'm afraid I can't spoil that bit until we're close to the ending
3) Who will be the next enemy after this battle?
―You'll see
4) If Aeoner wins & kills Aemond, he'll be a kinslayer & that's going to..ruin things? How would you handle that?
―I'm still weighing my options, but I'm aware of possible reactions. Whether getting revenge directly or indirectly, it'll bring no satisfaction
5) Why is Aegon still alive at this point? What is your plan for him?
―I left a few hints during the filler arc where Aemma was speaking to Larys Strong
6) Will there be a sequel?
―No
7) What will your next project be?
―I think I'll take a long break after this
8) What are the differences between Daveth & Aeoner? Who's the better among the two? How would they react to each other? Who would win in a fight between the two?
―The difference between this one and my first GoT fanfiction is the overall theme of "tragic hero", someone who was meant for great things by ends up failing. The ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle indicates that a truly tragic hero must have a failing that is neither idiosyncratic nor arbitrary, but is somehow more deeply imbedded - a kind of human failing and human weakness.
―In a hypothetical fight between Daveth Baratheon and Aeonar Targaryen, Daveth wouldn't stand a chance against Aeonar. Daveth is a good fighter and capable strategist, but Aeonar is a spymaster, rides a dragon, and his fighting style is just so foreign to Daveth. Nevertheless, they'd initially be cautious around each other.
9) How will the aftermath of the Dance affect the line of succession? Will there be stricter criteria in choosing the next ruler?
―Reform attempts to the succession will be made as if trying to emulate Dornish/Rhoynar customs, but even then change can only go so far. But yes, there will be a strict criteria.
C.E.W: So the showdown has finally started as Aeonar on Vaelor facing off against Aemond on Vhagar. Aeonar has made it very clear that he desires nothing but vengeance on Aemond, and enjoys his suffering as he did Beatrice Peake. Quite a ploy to get Aemond angry and more reckless to make easier for Aeonar, but Aemond will not go down without fight. Daemon and Caraxes are still quite a distance, and Caraxes is not known for speed so it might take a while. In the meantime, the fight between the two strongest and biggest dragons is going to be interesting to say the least.
Once the confrontation ends, the war is close to being over. All that fighting, all of that blood, death and suffering because the Peakes desired power. Yet, the Blacks maintain the upper hand, and Aeonar's line will still triumph.
The Northern host is approaching the Twins, still quite a distance from Harrenhal. By the time they arrive the fight will long be over.
Questions:
That medallion that Aeonar destroyed, was it the real one or a fake? Rhaena had the medallion last unless Aeonar took it from her? In chapter 110 Rhaena still had it, and Aeonar had not seen Rhaena since before the Battle of the Gullet when she returned to the Vale.
―After the incident on Driftmark when it dawned that Aemond had claimed Vhagar, Aeonar realized the medallion in Rhaena's hands were useless to both her and him. So, he took it back from her and was in his possession ever since until now.
Was there a time when Aemond looked up to Aeonar?
―Yes
What happened to the Black forces that Aemma took to take the Westerlands? Are they in the Riverlands?
―Mostly ensuring those who submitted were actually loyal and arresting those still defiant.
Have Kermit and Oscar Tully returned to the Riverlands, or are they still in the Stormlands?
―Still cleaning up in the Stormlands near the borders to thr Riverlands
Unwin Peake's ambitions for his line to be on the throne led to war, all of that fighting, blood, death and suffering. He's lost just about everything, was it worth it to him?
―Probably not
rogerlopez99: Well the first part of the Battle Above the Gods Eye is here and holy hell, for Aemond to say what Aeonar did to Aemond scout was little extreme shows that Aeonar is now the monster he is, damn Aeonar taunting Aemond and revealing the fate of Beatrice was a way to mind fuck Aemond so both Aeonar and Vaelor vs Aemond and Vhagar is about to begin
question
1 in the show it was revealed that Hugh Hammer mother was Saera Targaryen, was is your thought of that
―In the books, no one mentioned who Hugh's mother actually was so it's a bit more ambiguous whereas the show pointed fingers at a certain someone.
2 beside Daemon going to the gods eyes is there anyone else that will arrive to the gods eyes to witness the battle
―Can't spoil any of the goods
3 how are you, are you doing well
―Pretty exhausted and depressed; still trying to pour everything I have into the Battle Above the Gods Eye
randomdude24: Been looking forward to this battle, Aeonar vs Aemond who will come out on top? I feel like it will be Aeonar, but not without cost. While his experience gives him an advantage as well as Vaelor's, fact remains Vhagar is still the largest and most experienced dragon of this time. Addin the fact Aemond ego makes this a tough battle to win.
Questions,
How many parts do you have planned?
―Possibly 3 or 4 depending on how big the battle will be
Did Aemond not really know about his mothers death? I thought it was common knowledge on what happened to her
―No, Aemond was unaware of his mother's death. He knew of her capture, not her death.
If both Aemond and Vhagar die, wouldnt this be the final nail on the coffin for Aegon and the Caltrops?
―Yes it would. They'd no longer have a valuable weapon.