King's Landing 302 AC,
Shiera Seastar.
She used her magic in a few different ways. Firstly to blind the Great Other and his champion from where she and the Children of the Forest waited out this fight. Secondly to do the same with those who may be sought to add to their enemies' ranks. The people who Daemon had bid her to protect and keep far from battle. Shiera used her birds to look over the battle too. To see where support was needed or which part of the line was faltering and ensure that Daemon's plans were going just how he wished.
Little did she know that even amongst the well-laid plans of her nephew there would be losses that would almost break Daemon in two. Both Melisandre and Thoros falling which caused Shiera to shed tears for each of them and for the boy who loved them with all he was. Casualties were almost inevitable, even given her nephew's gifts and his god's favor, and yet some would be much harder to take than others. So Shiera looked to the front lines and was happy to see that Daemon's Northern Kin lived still and that this part of her nephew's plans seemed to be working.
The last and mayhap truest way she'd used her powers was to guide Lyanax when Daemon could not. To blind them from the Great Other and his champion so that Daemon and the Black Dragon could offer their aid where and when it was needed most. With that done and the final part of her nephew's plan now in place, it was time for Shiera and the Children of the Forest to play their own parts. So with a look at Leaf and the others, Shiera nodded and watched as they armed themselves both with weapons of dark volcanic glass and those that only the Children could wield.
"For our prince!" Leaf said determinedly and Shiera nodded.
They left the Manse behind and moved through what looked to be an abandoned city. In truth, it was very much not one. The people were hidden closer to the docks and the sea than the gates and the walls of the city itself. Protected there by the Lord of Storm's End and the Men of the Storm. A last line of defense and one Daemon had chosen to be led by the man he felt most suitable for the task. Stannis Baratheon was stubborn and resolute and had once held a besieged keep for longer than any man alive. Together with Davos Seaworth by his side once more, he'd buy the people a little more time should they come under attack. Not that Shiera or Daemon himself were under the illusion that he'd buy them enough to make a true difference should their plans fail. Yet homes and businesses had been abandoned regardless and since the dead or the Great Other himself couldn't find them, they were relatively safe, for now. Shiera, however, was under no illusions that should Daemon lose, none of them would see the morrow.
The sounds of battle rang out some distance ahead and the sight of the light that surrounded the city was one that even had the children gasping in awe. What Daemon had done was incredible. Unbelievable. Impossible. Yet he'd done something similar Beyond the Wall to the caves that Shiera and the Free Folk had taken solace in. There it had been fire that blocked the path of their enemies, here it seemed to be light itself or an even truer fire mayhap. Atop the walls, stretching as far as the eye could see, a barrier stood that Shiera knew was impassable to those on the other side of it. It left only the dead who'd made it into the city to be dealt with.
Shiera knew too that those inside the light and protected by it had been given one other boon too. Dead things could only truly thrive in darkness and shadow. Outside the light, any man who fell would rise again. Inside of it, none were able to. It meant that the battle being waged was a more than even one. Allowed for comfort to be brought to those who lost someone they cared about to the dead. For they'd not have to suffer the heartbreak of watching those men or women rise again. Nor have to face them as enemies.
Still, it guaranteed victory not and so, with a look to the Children, Shiera bid them to quicken their pace. While they didn't exactly run, they did move faster through the empty streets. Soon enough coming to where they could do the most good. Looking at each of them, smiling as they held the acorns high, Shiera called her birds to her and watched as those birds took the new glowing acorns and flew to the back of the line of dead men nearest the walls. Then, at her command, the acorns were dropped and explosions rang out loudly.
"More," she called out and each of the Children held up another glowing acorn.
Her birds came to her again and they repeated this process thrice more before then moving to join the lines of the defenders of the city. Now she used her birds to slow the dead. To allow Dragonglass to be plunged into their non-beating hearts without fear of them striking back. Beside her, the Children threw their glowing acorns and were most accurate in how they did so. Some of the Children moved as swiftly as only they were able and they took down dead men two and three at a time. The Dragonglass daggers in their hands were as lethal as Daemon's swords were in his own. Just as quickly brought to bear as well, Shiera would wager.
In no more than an hour or so, the combined efforts of Shiera, the Children, her birds, and the defenders at the walls were enough to take care of any of the dead who'd managed to get past Daemon's barrier of light. It allowed for wounds to be tended to. For rest to be had and the dead to at the very least be made unable to rise again. Some mourned the losses of friends and loved ones, while others moved to her and sought word on Daemon and his own battle. Shiera was happy to see four Stark men amongst those who did so.
"My nephew was always destined to fight part of this battle alone, Lord Stark. Champion against Champion would always be what decides your, mine, each of our fates."
"So Daemon is fighting this champion now?" Benjen Stark asked and Shiera nodded as she pointed to the Red Keep where she believed Daemon and Daario Naharis were readying for the fight of each of their lives.
"We should go to him."
"We have the numbers now."
"To the King!"
Shiera raised her hands and those words stopped the moment she did so. She pointed to the walls and though there were no enemies there as of yet, it did not mean that there would not be some there in the future. Daemon could lose his fight and if he did, the barrier he'd erected would falter. Once it was gone, the dead would clamber over those walls once more and their battle would begin anew. A battle that Shiera knew would be a losing one. So when she spoke, she spoke not of that. Or not entirely of it at least.
"The King wages his battle and we must stay prepared for our own. For now, our enemy is held at bay only through Daemon and R'hllor's will. Should the battle Daemon fights tax him truly, even a god's will may falter. We stand and hold the walls, my lords and ladies. For our king has tasked us with such has he not."
Shiera too wished to head to the Red Keep. She, the Children, her familiars, all of them could be of much use to Daemon there, or so she believed. Yet, she'd been ordered to do as she had thus far and as she was now doing. The battle Daemon fought was not one she was equipped to win and one that her presence may ensure he lost. So, Shiera, the Children, and her familiars, all looked to walls with no enemies atop but many behind them. They stood, waited, and watched.
At times she closed her eyes and looked at the Red Keep from the bird she'd sent to perch in one of the trees closest to it. Shiera saw the dead who surrounded it and moved not. Their task had already failed though they were unaware of it. They were to stop Daemon from entering the Red Keep and yet even had her nephew wished to engage them as they tried to do so, it would have stopped him not. Daemon had not engaged them, however. Nor were they aware that he was already inside and readying to defeat the Great Other's final champion. Her powers and Daemon's own had seen to that.
"For the future we all long for and to remove these powers from me once and for all. You have my faith, nephew. My belief in you is as strong as ever it was."
Ser Arthur Dayne.
He prepared them as best he could. Arthur had faced them in Essos and he knew that on first sight, they could almost beat you with the truth of what they were. So he had ensured they very much would not. Words spoken to Barristan, Oswell, Jonathor, and Jaime Lannister. To Bonifer and the men of the Hundred, about what dead men who'd risen to fight once more were truly like, was now put to the test.
They'd somehow gotten into the keep itself. Past the guards outside it and through those inside. The servants had been locked away behind doors with barriers of wood and stone. Only the few who served the Royal Family themselves and who were as protected as the Queen, prince, and princesses remained free to move about. Guards had fallen back to hold Maegor's Holdfast and to protect the Royal Apartments and soon enough, the need for them to do so had arrived.
Arthur and Jaime Lannister, one with a Valyrian sword and the other with a star-forged one stood at the ready. Barristan, Oswell, Jonathor, and Bonifer behind them and in front of them men of the Hundred who bore Dragonglass weapons and who were as good and true men as any Arthur ever knew, were ready to fight to the death. So too did men of the Unsullied and they and they alone showed no sign of fear as the dead finally arrived.
"Protect the Queen! Protect the Royal Family! Arthur shouted.
Together they cut down dead men by the tens and even the hundreds. Bodies piled high and it allowed them for some respite as the dead now blocked the way. Calling for torches, Arthur thought not of the smell of burning flesh nor the smoke the fires he'd ordered lit would produce. A mistake he cursed himself for a few moments later. Yet it was the chill that he and the others felt that truly threatened their resolve and spirit. That and the thing that moved through that chill.
"By the Seven!" Bonifer shouted out and Arthur corrected him not that it was an entirely other god that had forged this thing that moved towards them now.
It was, or at least looked to be completely made of ice. An ice of the likes of which he'd never seen before. Looking at it and seeing how the fire seemed to make the ice shine and glimmer, Arthur almost named it the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Watching the destruction it wrought as it moved, he named it the most deadly. It cut through men of the Hundred as if they were green boys and not hardened warriors. Would have done the same to Oswell and Barristan too had not he and Jaime Lannister moved forward. Their swords not shattering as others had when they came into contact with the Icy Blade.
Other than Daemon, Arthur had never faced as true a swordsman and yet there was much off about the one he and Jaime fought against too. True, Daemon had been gifted many powers from his god and yet there was his own earned talent there as well. This thing of ice they fought was no true swordsman in life, or so Arthur would wager. While some named Arthur's skills as god-given, it would be far more true to name those now on show as being so.
In the confines of the narrow corridor, there was little space to truly move and maneuver. It both helped and hindered him and Jaime in equal measure, in that it kept the Icy Blade from ending them, but allowed neither Dawn nor Brightroar to do the same. Soon they began to wither and tire while the thing in front of them did not. Around them, Barristan, Bonifer, and even Jaime's son, Tommen, fought like men possessed and the dead fell even as some men of the Hundred somehow rose again. Then those who rose soon fell and even as others who breathed lost their lives, they did not.
It was when he felt on the verge of losing. When Brightroar was knocked from Jaime's hands, his former brother moved to pick up the sword just as Daemon arrived. His words rang out loudly and the thing that Arthur had just been facing, moved far out of Dawn's reach. A respite that was much needed and even welcomed as it allowed Jaime to rejoin him and so too did Barristan and Oswell.
A raised hand from Daemon and a shake of his head stopped them all from doing as they had intended. Words spoken not to them but to the thing they'd been facing and that thing heading off in the direction of the Throne Room, was what ended their fight that day. Daemon then pointed to the rooms and motioned for them to go inside them and no longer fight in the corridors or passageways of the Red Keep.
"The King, Arthur, we must," Barristan said almost brokenly.
"We follow his orders and his orders alone, Barristan and though I wish to do as you, I trust in his plans."
"As do I." Jaime Lannister said, Bonifer then repeating the very same words.
Had it not been for both of them doing so. For Oswell and Jonathor who then nodded their heads indicating that they too wished to follow the king's unspoken order and to carry out those he'd given them before leaving, then Barristan Selmy may have broken his oaths. As it was, he did not, and even with the sound of the dead running towards them, it was into the rooms and behind doors that they hurried to.
No sooner had they done so than light surrounded them. From outside the doors, windows, and down through the halls, Arthur was not alone in looking on amazed as a god's power was shown to them all. Barriers of light and fire filled the Red Keep and those poor dead fools who were unlucky enough to be on the other side of them burned to nothingness and moved no more. For those who were on the right side of those barriers, protection, time to rest, eat, and look after their wounded, and time to worry about their king was what they now knew.
"Daemon?" Myrcella asked and Arthur nodded, happy to see a smile where there had only been worry before.
"Where is my grandson, Ser Arthur, and why are you not with him?" Rhaella asked, angrily, accusingly, and with more than a little worry in her voice.
"He wishes us here, my queen," Bonifer said as he took the woman he loved into his arms, Arthur and the others were then treated to one of the few true kisses that either of them had ever allowed any but family to see.
"My brother, how can he…..was he well, Ser Arthur? Is he unharmed?" Rhaenys asked, changing whatever it was she was about to ask and instead offering up some other questions.
"As hale and hearty as I ever seen him, Princess," Arthur said while Jaime moved to speak the same words to his sister and daughter.
Other questions were asked and Arthur had no answer for any of them. He knew not how the battle fared outside the Red Keep. Nor why Daemon had chosen to come here now. Though on that he was a little more certain if he was being honest. Daemon had come here now because it was time for him to fight the fight he'd always been destined to fight. The prince that was promised was about to see that promise either fulfilled or not. Arthur believed it would be the latter. Given all he'd seen Daemon do, how could he not.
Food was offered and eaten heartily. The barriers dimmed, almost seemed to fade, and then grew stronger still. Outside the rooms they were all now housed in, no sound could be heard. Inside them, questions were once again asked and worries over family were expressed. Margaery Tyrell was comforted by Tommen Lannister, the two who'd hopefully be wed when all this was over and done with, showing they were a good and true match. As too were Rhaenys and Willas Tyrell. Though in their exchanges it was the princess who offered words of encouragement to her betrothed rather than the other way around.
Bonifer sat with Rhaella and spoke softly in her ear. His hands occasionally bring one of Rhaella's own to his lips. Prince Viserys sat next to his sister and the young woman who'd earned Prince Daenerys' heart. Each of them offered comfort to the other. Further to the back of the room, Jaime, Tyrion, and Cersei Lannister sat and spoke pensively, while so too did Arthur's brothers in white. Yet it was to the queen that Arthur moved rather than to Barristan, Oswell, and Jonathor. A nod of his head was enough to have him be bid to take a seat and he hoped the words he spoke were enough for her.
"I have no fear, my queen. No worries or doubts."
"You don't?" Myrcella asked softly.
"After all he's survived. All he's suffered. No, I don't." he said firmly.
"Then I shall let your lack of fear chase away mine own, Ser Arthur." Myrcella smiled.
"Then my work here is done, my queen." he chuckled, getting an almost true laugh from the queen. Almost a true one.
Rhaella Targaryen.
Her comfort and worries had been assuaged by once again having Bonifer by her side. His little touches, the soft kisses to her hands, cheek, and even once to her lips, as well as the words he spoke, had all helped greatly. It was not enough to truly make her worry not, but it did stop her from being on the verge of panic as she had been before her love and the Kingsguard had joined them inside the Royal Chambers.
Now her true enemy was time. Time sat still with her thoughts which she'd had more than enough of. Daemon had told her that the rest of Westeros was safe for now. Winterfell, the Riverlands, Summerhall, all places where her nephew had kin were free from attack. He'd told her too that should he fall today, then nowhere would be. When she'd finally gotten him to speak to her truly, to tell her what the cost of defeat would be, her grandson had been unable to lie to her. Never had he truly been able to do so, Rhaella was happy to say.
All the lessons she'd given him when he was a boy were so he could hide his true feelings from those who would seek to use them against him. There had been no need for her to give him any lessons when it came to hiding those feelings from her. No one wished for her grandson more than what Rhaella had wished for him. Nor was there anyone who'd have done as much for him as she would. Not then at least. Rhaella looked to where Myrcella sat and saw how her hands alternated between rubbing the swelling of her belly and the soft white fur of Ghost.
"I needs must speak to my goodgrandaughter," Rhaella said as she kissed Bonifer's cheek and rose to her feet.
She offered her son and daughter a soft smile as she moved past them. Another to her granddaughter and then Rhaella took a seat beside Myrcella and reached down to take her hand in hers. A soft squeeze of encouragement before she then began to speak not of the fight that was being fought outside the doors and mayhap walls of the Red Keep, but of days yet to come.
"Have you thought of names yet?" Rhaella asked, Myrcella brightening up considerably at the question.
"We know not for true if it's to be a boy or a girl."
"And that stops you how?" she chuckled. Myrcella's mother, Rhaenys, Dany, and Missandei all now looking to them both.
"Daeron or Rhaella," Myrcella said shocking her and yet not at the same time. "Daemon wishes for a girl." her goodgrandaughter added with a smile. "And there is none he could or would name her after other than his grandmother."
"I had thought his mother…"
"When we spoke on it, I asked him the very same and he told me that while he would one day seek to honor his mother, it was the woman who raised him that he owed that honor to. That had it not been for you then he would not be the man he is today."
The words brought tears to her eyes, ones that she would have shed had it not been for what Dany asked. Her daughter doing so both out of curiosity and to spare Rhaella's blushes she believed.
"Why Daeron?"
"For the Young Dragon," Myrcella said to nods from Ser Arthur and Jaime Lannister. Bonifer and Barristan too seemed to remember just how keen her nephew had always been on the tales of some of the most famed men of their House.
"Ever was it so, my queen. Aemon or Daeron, I would have wagered it would be one or the other." Ser Barristan said and Ser Arthur then asked the next question, a curious one that Rhaella found the answer to most encouraging.
"What made him choose the one over the other, my queen? As I remember it, it was a hard thing for him to do as a boy. Some days he'd call out that he was the Young Dragon and others he'd be the Dragonknight." Arthur said fondly.
Myrcella blushed. Rhaella looked at the young woman and wondered if there was some ribald tale to be told, only to find that it was very much not. Not in that way at least.
"Our third son is to be named Aemon, Ser Arthur."
"Third Son?" Cersei asked. Her tone was shocked more by the certainty with which Myrcella had answered Ser Arthur's question than anything else, Rhaella would wager.
"When they were Beyond the Wall before they fought with the Free Folk and Daemon closed Blue Eyes forever. They had flown to a cave and spoken to the Three-Eyed Raven. "Myrcella began. "Bloodraven, it was he who gave Daemon another ruby. He gave Shiera something too, some power or other. Greensight or so Daemon named it."
"And he told his grace he'd have three sons?" Jaime Lannister asked only for Myrcella to shake her head.
"Shiera did."
"And you believe this, daughter?" Cersei asked, still as shocked as she had been as it was the first time that Rhaella could remember the Lioness of Casterly Rock not using her daughter's title when addressing her with others present.
"As I believe that my firstborn will be a boy and my second a girl, mother. Daeron and Rhaella." Myrcella turned to smile at her.
It made things much different in the rooms from then on. Whatever fears she and the others had, were lessened by the thoughts that Daemon was destined to have a large family. Simply the idea that he and his wife were to have both sons and daughters. It made Rhaella consider the future far more than she had these past few days. The thought that there would indeed be one now filled her mind and so she moved from Myrcella after offering her a warm kiss on her forehead and took a seat next to Dany and Missandei.
The words she shared with her daughter were ones that Dany seemed to welcome. As too did the ones she shared a few moments later with her granddaughter. Rhaenys was more than happy to put her mind to the days, weeks, moons, and even years to come than she had been just a few moments earlier. From her granddaughter, it was to her son that she moved and Viserys proved slightly more difficult to get to see what needed to be done. Thoughts of marriage and settling down were not ones that she wagered he'd ever given much time to, now that it seemed they may have more time than any of them feared, it was something he needed to do.
"Would that Sansa Stark and Aurane were not so well matched, my son." Rhaella said looking to the young girl who had somehow been able to find her sleep when the rest of them could not.
"She's too young, mother. By the gods she's but a girl."
"A girl who is as good a match as any in the Realm, given who her mother and father are."
"Yet too young still, mother. And betrothed as well."
Rhaella sighed, not willing to give up and yet not wanting to argue with her son. If it was not that she was using this to take her mind off the danger that Daemon was in, then she'd have let it go. Yet even despite what Myrcella had said, until she saw her grandson stand in front of her hale and hearty, some worries would remain. Given all that Daemon had gone through in his young life, it was a curse that she hoped would finally be put to rest once this battle was done. Peace to be all that he, their family, and Rhaella were to know from this day forth. Or so she prayed.
"Desmera Redwyne," Viserys said catching her by surprise.
"You would accept a match with her?" she asked happily.
"It would bring the Reach even more to our side would it not?"
"It would." Rhaella agreed. Her thoughts not having yet turned to who else was a good enough match for her son. Had they, then it may have been the Vale or Riverlands, even the Stormlands that she considered. Mayhap even the West if there was no one suitable in any of the other regions.
"Then you have my permission to open negotiations with Lord Paxter, Mother."
Rhaella leaned down to embrace her son. Viserys' arms wrapped tightly around her and she welcomed the feel of them. A part of her had feared they'd never know the relationship it seemed they were now on the way to enjoying. It filled her heart with joy to be able to chase that part of herself away.
"I am proud of you, son, never doubt that," she whispered in Viserys' ear and felt his grip waver before it tightened once more.
Moving from her son, she took her seat next to Bonifer and welcomed his hand when it once again took her own and brought it to his lips.
"You have resolved the future of your House, my love?" Bonifer asked.
"That I have, Bon. Now all I need is for my grandson to emerge victorious and for that future to begin."
"I have no doubt that he will, my love. None at all." Bonifer said and Rhaella looked at him truly to see that it was what he actually believed and not some words spoken to bring her comfort.
"Nor do I," Rhaella said firmly.
Grey Worm.
Of the eight thousand Unsullied that had been brought to Westeros, more than seven thousand still stood fit and able for the fight. Three hundred were injured and would recover to fight another day while two hundred had now left their fighting days behind them. Still, it was the five hundred who'd lost their lives that Grey Worm concentrated on. Those men that he and the others moved to where they would be prepared for the pyres to come.
Not even knowing that it should have been more was enough to cheer his mood. Daemon had given them strict orders and so while it was outside the walls that Grey Worm had longed to be, it was inside them that they had made their stand. His words to his prince about Qohor and the Three Thousand had been listened to, he knew that. They had just not been acted upon. So, after the last of the bodies were laid out and he and his men offered their tribute, it was the words his prince had spoken to him that now filled his mind.
" The three thousand, my prince."
" I'm well aware of what they did and how you may seek to add your legend to theirs, old friend. Yet I would seek more than simply a legend to be your legacy when your time finally comes."
" None can hold them back as us. This one would beg for the chance to do so."
" Your days of begging are long since past, Torgho Nudho. And yet were you to truly ask it of me I'd deny you still."
" For why?"
" Because I need you inside the walls and not outside of them. I need a last line of defense and the Unsullied can offer me that as no other can. Should I need to buy time, then who else can I trust to gain me enough of it." Daemon said and Grey Worm nodded. "And while Qohor was a great and true victory, it came at too high a cost as well. I would seek the cost you pay to be a much lesser one. For you and your brothers, Torgho Nudho. I owe you that much at least."
" It is we who owe…"
" Not to me, old friend. Any debt you feel you owe me is one long since paid. Time for me to pay mine own I think."
He understood it, somewhat. For as much as the Westerosi meant to Daemon now that he was their king, it was his own people that he felt indebted to. These men had not fought against the Red Eyes in Essos, and so they had yet to truly earn Daemon's gratitude. His respect they had earned simply by turning up ready to fight, Grey Worm would wager.
With the dead seen to, it was the living that he turned his attention to. The Unsullied could stand and fight without food and water for a day or more. Now they had no need to and so Grey Worm bid them to fill their bellies in case the fight was not yet over. His eyes looked to the Red Keep in the distance and he knew that somewhere inside those particular walls, his prince was fighting still.
Had he been in any doubt of such, then the sight of the flames and light that blocked any way in or out of the Red Keep would have rid him of that doubt. With others that sight created only fear and concern, so Grey Worm moved to the men of the North, to Daemon's kin to offer them whatever words would soothe their concerns and calm their fears. Much needed as those words seemed to be.
"We should march on the Keep."
"The King, he needs our aid."
"What are we doing here just standing around, there is more fighting to be done."
"HALT!" Grey Worm shouted. His spear raised in the air as he moved so he was seen by one and all.
"You Dare…."
"Torgho Nudho speaks for the prince." one of the red priestesses said softly. Her voice carrying despite its timbre. "You would do well to listen to him when he does so," she added a moment later.
It was Daemon's uncles that came to him. Both them and their sons and soon enough it was those who named them their lieges that followed. Men of the West led by the Great Uncle of Daemon's queen and those of the Reach led by men that Grey Worm knew not. Both of those things telling in their own way. The Queen's grandfather had fallen and so too had most of the commanders of the Reach Forces. Others were luckier than they and yet that was oft the way of battle.
"My prince, your king, bid us to make our stand here and here we stand." Grey Worm said to some chuckles from the group of fierce-looking women who stood next to Daemon's kin. "His fight was never ours to fight. For none are equipped to do so," he added to nods of some heads.
"The Prince that was Promised is about our god's work now and since none of you are his chosen, none can aid him finish that work." A Red Priest said.
"Eat, drink, rest, and pray that our fight is finished and yet be ready in case it is not."
Those words seemed to do the trick. Daemon's uncles still came to him after he'd spoken and Grey Worm was happy for the Red Priestess who joined him and spoke words that seemed to calm them even more than his own. Happy too to see Shiera speak to them a little while later. He was less happy at what the young priestess then whispered in his ear a few moments later when they were alone.
"Two of our best have fallen this day, Torgho Nudho. Melisandre of Asshai and Thoros of Myr have been called to our god's side. Their battles are over and sacrifices all but forgotten or unheard about. It will be our task in the days, moons, and weeks to come to see that they are remembered. As for your own, the prince will need those he knows by his side in the years to come."
"There will be years to come?" Grey Worm asked though he had doubted it not.
Not from the moment he had joined Daemon Targaryen had he ever truly worried that his death was to come as a young man. Even if that had proved to be true, it would have mattered not. For no matter what his prince said, Grey Worm disputed that the debt he owed was even close to being repaid. To pay back a man who gave you your freedom was an impossible thing to do, after all.
The girl laughed and Grey Worm finally saw just how young she truly was. He'd name her naught but an acolyte was it not for the fiery red dress she wore and the confidence that she spoke with. A gifted one or one who had proven herself in some way, was now what he named her. As he would a true believer, given what words she now spoke.
"Our god has been planning for this war since before men and women walked or even crawled. He chose his champion in our prince and nothing I've seen has made me question the words that Daemon Targaryen spoke to me when I was but a novice."
"What words?"
"R'hllor has been playing cyvasse with the world since the time before time and there is none who plays the game as well." the girl smiled. "We are all but pieces on a board, Torgho Nudho, and his final piece has now been moved so it can deliver the killing blow. This game is already won, for my prince and my god are true masters at it."
Taking his food. Sitting down to rest and to drink cool crisp water. Looking to the walls where the barriers of light and flame that Daemon had erected shined just as brightly as they had when he'd first done so. Turning to see just how many men still stood ready for the fight and then he looked to the sky and saw the Black Dragon flying as if she was on a pleasurable day's journey and not ready to unleash her flames upon all who deserved them. Grey Worm found a small smile come to his face. Later there would be time for mourning. Time to put his fallen brothers to rest for true. For now, all he could do was what he'd done the moment Daemon Targaryen had freed him and the rest of the Unsullied.
"My faith in you is undiminished, my prince."
Myrcella Lannister.
Her family tried their best. Both her mother and her father spoke words of encouragement as too did Tommen. Myrcella was more than happy that her brother and father were in the rooms and so now able to do so. Each moment they'd been outside the doors engaged in a fight with the things that attacked the city, or even waiting to do so, had been almost too much for her to bear. It was bad enough that her husband, grandfather, great-uncles' and cousins were fighting, she had hoped her father and brother would be spared from doing so. So from the moment they were, Myrcella breathed a little more easily.
She welcomed hearing each of them speak to her in their inimitable way too. Her mother talked of the babe she bore inside of her and whether or not it was true that she believed that babe to be a boy. Myrcella was only too happy to say that she did and why she did. Even going so far as to say that Daemon believed their babe to be a girl and how she knew he was wrong but allowed him his mistake. Something that brought a smile to her mother's face as she spoke of how it had been the opposite with her when Myrcella was born.
" I believed you to be a boy and only hoped and prayed for a girl, Cella." her mother whispered. "Never was I happier than when I held my daughter in my arms for the first time. Don't get me wrong, I loved it and felt it keenly when I held my sons too, but I had always wanted a daughter and so…"
With her father, it was talk of how the battle must be going. Of the forces that Daemon had gathered and how truly the call of the king had been answered. He told her that her husband looked well when he'd seen him all but briefly. That Daemon bore no wounds that her father could see and he looked as resolved and determined as ever. Yet it was she who spoke of the barriers of fire and light and how Daemon was able to do such a thing. The purpose of them too was something Myrcella revealed.
" They are to keep things out, father, not us in."
" And yet they do that too, do they not?"
" I am most glad for it truly." she reached down and took his hand in her own "Should the worst come to pass then I would welcome it being with us all together rather than apart."
" Daemon will ensure the worst never comes to pass, Cella."
She believed he would and that belief was shared by Tommen. Her brother was now a warrior for true and though he seemed shaken by what he'd seen, he was not broken by it. His worries were not for them, or even for her, not truly. Tommen spoke about their grandfather and the rest of their kin, and how he wished he was there fighting alongside them. He spoke of how it was always his dream to fight alongside the Lion of Lannisport and the man he'd named as the greatest swordsman of the West, their father. Myrcella then reminded him that he had achieved the second of those dreams and she hoped and prayed he'd never need the first of them.
" Let this be the only battle you fight in, Brother Mine. Give me that peace and let that be the only time your sword is drawn in anger."
" Girls." Tommen sighed when Margaery spoke the very same words as she had just done. Both Myrcella and Tommen's betrothed glared at him before all three broke into laughter.
It was a much-needed break from the tension and worry of waiting with no idea of how things were truly playing out. Myrcella knew Daemon wished the battle to be won elsewhere. That had her husband his way, none of the Kingsguard nor her father and brother would have swung their swords this day. She knew too that in leaving them and Ghost with her, he was making certain that if the need did come to pass, Myrcella would have the most capable protectors he could give her. Not that it was enough or truly forced her worries from her mind. Only the sight and feel of her husband would be enough to do so.
Others still tried, however, and hearing Rhaella speak of the future and Myrcella then speaking of what she prayed and hoped her own would be, was comforting. As too was seeing Sansa Stark sleep as peacefully as she now was. Her handmaiden had stayed up long into the wee small hours the night before as she said all she wished to, to her family. Now she was paying the cost for not getting a decent night's sleep and though she'd argued when Myrcella bid her do so, she was asleep mere moments later once she had lain down.
' Would that I could join you.' Myrcella thought to herself.
Myrcella knew it would be good for the babe if she rested and a part of her would have relished falling to sleep only to be awakened by her husband's lips on her own. She knew, however, that the very last thing she could do was sleep. Daemon may be the only person truly equipped to fight the fight he was now more than likely engaged in, but that did not mean that she was not there with him.
"In mind and spirit if not body, my love," she said softly.
No sooner had she said the words than Ghost rose to his feet. The white wolf moved to the windows and snarled at something on the other side of them. Each of them felt it then. The cold had seemingly come out of nowhere and Myrcella looked on as her mother wrapped a shawl around herself and Sansa Stark awoke due to the chill in the air. Daenerys, Missandei, her mother, and even Rhaella all looked to each other and the Kingsguard in some vain effort for the truth of things to be revealed.
Myrcella did not.
She looked to the window and saw the flames flicker. The light began to dim somewhat and while she feared greatly that it meant something terrible had happened to Daemon, somehow she kept her wits about her.
"Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan. The windows. Ser Oswell, Ser Jonathor, barricade the doors."
"Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked confused.
"We are about to be attacked, Ser, make ready to hold the room at any cost."
"As you command, your grace."
They huddled together. Each of them now held the Dragonglass daggers that Daemon had made everyone keep with them. The Kingsguard, Unsullied, Ser Bonifer, and her father and brother had split their forces. Some looked to the doors and others to the windows. For now, the fiery barrier still held but it was lesser than before. If you stood at the window and looked out, you'd see the city where before you could see nothing at all. Myrcella wagered that if you were to look down it would be a more terrible sight that would greet you.
The dead, she believed, were now climbing the walls of the Red Keep. Soon they'd be inside once more, as for some reason Myrcella knew that none were moving through the halls as of yet. Those who had been had met her husband and now moved no more. Soon, or mayhap not at all, they would be doing so once again and should those barriers break, they'd be upon them.
"May R'hllor protect us." Myrcella said loudly while quietly, in her mind, she offered a different prayer 'Daemon, my love, return to me as you promised you would.'
Daario Naharis.
To be alive and yet not was a strange and not unpleasant feeling. His heart beat no more. No breath left his body and yet Daario moved more swiftly and with more purpose than he had ever done before. He was more powerful than he had ever dreamed he could be and was able to cut down men in their tens and twenties without any real effort. Daario could summon storms and whip up whirlwinds of ice and hail. As for what he could do with the dead, that was true power. A simple thought and they acted. One glance at them and his will was done.
It had come in most useful as Daemon Targaryen's powers were just as impressive. His adversary had stopped the dead from taking this city. Somehow he'd created a barrier of light and fire that held Daario's army back. More than that, he'd stopped Daario from being able to make those who had just lost their lives, rise again. In one fell swoop, Daemon had changed the nature of the battle and Daario had known from the moment he'd done so, how the war now ended.
So he'd made his way to the Red Keep and had fought the protectors he met there. When the Red Priest that Daemon was so close to arrived bringing with him men of the Fiery Hand, Daario had wished to test himself to the fullest. He cut through them as if they were nothing and while Thoros of Myr put up more of a fight, it was only because Daario allowed him to. Then once he too had fallen to Daario's Icy Blade, it was the Red Keep and who was inside that he turned his attention to.
The guards were no obstacle to his path to where Daemon's wife and family cowered in fear. Images of blonde hair and green eyes came to Daario's mind and in his head, his god promised him his reward once he'd done what he'd been ordered to. Still, Daario saw the men in cloaks of white and the Unsullied and he had time to kill until Daemon joined him and so he sought some fun. He felt his power even more fully here too, the dead once again rose at his command until they did not.
Not a single one of those in white cloaks fell to his Icy Blade, however. Daemon Targaryen arrived much sooner than he'd expected and as they looked at each other, and spoke but briefly, Daario left the corridor and rooms behind and moved to a much larger space. When he took Daemon's life from him, turned him into a thing that could see, hear, and yet had no will of its own, Daario would lead him to where his wife and family were. There he'd take the latter one by one before truly taking the former. A smirk appeared on his face as he wondered what sounds Myrcella Lannister would make as he penetrated her with his icy cock.
"A much more fitting blade for the task." he laughed.
The room he found himself in was open and empty. On a raised dais sat an ugly throne that seemed to be formed from melted swords. Daario moved to it as Daemon Targaryen entered the room. The two of them looked to the other and Daemon raised his hands as all entrances or exits from the room were now covered in flame and light.
"A decent trick, but one not worthy of a God's Champion."
"My God needs not tricks, Naharis."
"Let us at it then."
"I walk in R'hllor's light and you are no terror of the night. I've seen those for true and you are far lesser than they were. The Last Champion of a foolish god."
"The Last Champion of the only god that matters," Daario replied.
Icy Blade met Fiery Swords. The two of them moved around the room with unnatural speed. Daemon was a true match and Daario relished the challenge. As he did the look on his adversary's face when he spoke of what he'd do to his wife and family.
"All of them."
"Once I'm done with you, I'll take each of them from this world and send them to the next.
"Then and only then will I take her for mine own. Your wife will be my bride, Daemon Targaryen. My god has promised me so."
Daemon's strikes and movements became angered, or so it seemed. Daario was unsure as the look on Daemon's face was not the look of an angry man. Nor were the words that Daemon spoke, spoken angrily.
"You always fucking talked too much, Naharis. A poor choice for a champion indeed."
Daemon Targaryen.
In his heart, he mourned Thoros and Melisandre. Yet it was so deep inside that he would need to root it out just to feel that mourning. It needed to be, given the stakes of the fight he was now engaged in. All his years of training and all the preparations had led him to this moment and Daemon felt more fearful about it than he really should be. He needed calmness. Composure. Instead, it was worrying about those he loved that Daemon felt most keenly. At least until he heard his god's voice in his head once more.
" I have given you the gifts to protect them, and yet there is but one way you can do so for true."
Daario spouted more nonsense about what he'd do to his wife and family and unlike the first time, Daemon responded to it not. There was no need to. The fool spoke of things that could only come to pass if Daemon lost. If R'hllor lost. His god had chosen wisely, however. He'd prepared him for this day for most of Daemon's life. Daemon had been given all the tools to do as he must and yet it was those he was given by his grandmother that truly gave him the strength to fight how he needed to fight.
" You are a dragon, grandson. Never forget that or let them deny it to be so."
Outside, he heard Lyanax roar. Then without needing to tell her, his dragon used her body to take dead things from the walls of the Red Keep. Daemon was happy to see the look of doubt that came to Daario Naharis' face when Lyanax did so.
Flames that had flickered and a light that had dimmed now very much did not. Daemon Targaryen had been born a dragon and dragons were who brought the fire most truly.
In his hands, Flame and Spark began to light up even more. Around his neck, the rubies began to vibrate. Standing in front of him was a thing that had once been a man. Daario Naharis was a creature of ice now. A thing of darkness. To become his god's champion, Daario had given himself completely to the Great Other and he was now a mirror of how that god saw himself. It was time for Daemon Targaryen to be a mirror of his god.
The flames took hold and Daemon felt their warmth as they travelled up his arms. Soon his shoulders, chest, stomach, and then his legs were covered in those flames. Finally, his head itself felt their warm kiss too. Then, as the flames went out, only the light from those flames remained. Daario was ice and Daemon fire and the song his god had written millennia ago, now truly began to be sung.
A wave of ice came at Daemon, moving across the floor of the Throne Room and forming a wall that he simply touched and turned to water. Hail began to fall atop him even though they were inside and under the cover of a roof. That hail then turned to rain with just a flick of Daemon's hand.
Ice spears, arrows, and sharpened shards of ice, all moved his way as Daario used magic and not his sword. Each of them turned to water and then the pools of water that formed at Daemon's feet began to steam as his fire boiled that water away to nothingness. At no point did Daemon send fire Daario's way, even though he could. There was no need to and it would have been a wasteful effort to do so. Flame and Spark were what would win him this fight, all the rest was simply to ensure he lost it not.
Fiery Blades crashed against an icy one. A long and short sword meeting an Arakh. The gods had forged these blades for this precise purpose. They'd stored them away and only truly infused them with the power they now possessed for when the time was right. The blades were to be wielded by their champions and Daemon had been wielding his swords for far longer than Daario Naharis had his own.
This was why his god could not lose. R'hllor had been preparing for this battle far longer than the Great Other had. His god had looked at the board and arranged all the pieces just how he wished them. Once he had, then and only then had he moved his most effective piece. Yet, he'd moved Daemon far earlier and far easier than the Great Other had moved Daario Naharis.
Now Daemon moved just as early and just as easily as his god had done.
In life, Daario Naharis was a halfway decent blade but not a true swordsman. As a boy, Daemon was already more than his match. The Great Other had chosen badly and once again it showed just how much a master of the game, R'hllor truly was.
His strikes began to hit home. Ice began to chip off Daario and whether they were simply pieces of ice or parts of what had once been a man, it mattered not. Flame cut into the Icy Blade and held it at bay while Spark cut pieces from the ice that surrounded or made up Daario Naharis. Small pieces of it, larger pieces, huge chunks. Each time he used Flame to keep Daario from bringing his Icy Blade to bear, Spark was ready to be used to chip away at whatever it was that Daario Naharis now was.
Eventually not even Spark was able to cut into Daario Naharis. Simply put there was little of anything for it to cut into. What had once been a man had been whittled away as if it were a piece of wood in the hands of a craftsman. Using Flame to pin Daario's Icy Blade once more, Daemon now used Spark against the arm that held that blade. Once, twice, thrice he hacked into that arm before it fell away and it and the Icy Blade just shattered into a thousand pieces.
"In R'hllor's name and for his glory," Daemon called out as Daario fell to his knees. Both Flame and Spark came together as each of his fiery blades struck opposite sides of Daario's neck at the same time. The pressure of the strike and Daemon's will to force both blades together was enough to see the head removed. It too fell to the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. As it did, the flames and light that made up what Daemon had briefly become, were no more. A man his god had sent into this battle and it was a man that R'hllor ensured walked away from it.
Daemon felt them then. Each of the Shadows had come to him and turning from the Great Other's biggest failure, Daemon looked to each of them. The battle was over, the war won and outside the Red Keep and the walls of King's Landing, only bodies to be burned or buried remained. Daemon wished for nothing more than to go to his family. To hold his wife in his arms and yet, he could not. There was one more thing he needed to do.
"You have served me well and I can offer you only this as a reward," Daemon said as he cut his hand once more and held the rubies in his palm until they were covered in his blood.
"Finally we know peace." the oldest of what had once been seven great kings said as each of them began to fade into nothingness. Their service to Daemon's god was at an end, his never would be.
Leaving the Throne Room behind, Daemon made his way to where his family were. Knocking at the door to not startle the Kingsguard or the Unsullied, it was Ser Arthur who opened it and once he stepped into the room, his family came running to him. Rhaenys, his grandmother, his uncle and aunt, and even his cousin. All of them sought and found his arms and then Daemon moved to where his wife stood crying happy tears.
"I have returned, my love," he said before he was almost smothered by the kisses from the woman he loved.
The Lands Beyond the Wall 302 AC,
R'hllor.
He moved through his brother's domain unhindered. All the power his brother possessed was being used elsewhere. A battle that he'd long ago ensured the outcome of it, now played out. His own fight could only truly take place once that battle was won. So when he arrived at the Castle of Ice his brother had taken for his own, it was to find an open drawbridge awaiting him. Its icy platform began to smoke as R'hllor moved across it.
Should he touch his hands to the walls, then they too would smoke. Some would melt and turn to water and if he wished it, R'hllor could take this entire keep down around him. What he would do here would see that was so regardless and so, for now, he wished it not.
His brother awaited him in a large open room. Two thrones were the only furniture and only one of them was made not of ice. It was that one that R'hllor took his seat on. A wave of his hand once he did so and the floor between where his throne was and his brothers, now resembled little more than a large Cyvasse board.
Soon pieces of ice and those of flame took their places on the board and he and his brother played the first game of Cyvasse with each other that they'd done since their father had left this world behind. It was a game that R'hllor won easily. His brother had no patience. Even despite waiting millennia for their fight to begin, his brother had no patience and so he moved his pieces far too quickly and far too obviously. Another wave of R'hllor's had shown the truth of this as it played out on a true battlefield.
"Your champion against mine own, brother," R'hllor said as the battle began for true.
Each move his brother made had been countered easily. True there were losses that even R'hllor didn't expect, but those he'd welcome to his embrace as a reward for true and loyal service. When it came to the fight between Daario Naharis and Daemon Targaryen, R'hllor saw the shocked look on his brother's face. He'd prepared his Champion since he was but a boy, his brother had taken his champion merely a year or so ago. It was folly and yet another reason why this war between them was always destined to be one his brother lost.
Daemon's words filled R'hllor's burning heart with joy. To hear him exclaim so truly that he did this in his name and for his glory, even his brother seemed impressed by that.
When the final blow came and Daemon earned the victory that R'hllor knew had never been in doubt, he rose to his feet. In his hand, he held a fiery sword and his brother never formed an icy one of his own. Instead, he moved from his icy throne, bent down, and leaned his head forward.
"Father never wished it to come to this," R'hllor said sadly.
"Yet he always knew it would come to pass." his brother replied.
"Goodbye, Brother," R'hllor said as his sword swung and his brother joined his father in the place where gods go when they finally die.