Another day under siege dawned in King's Landing. It was a city not unfamiliar with war and carnage. The sack by Tywin Lannister's forces during Robert's Rebellion, resulting in countless atrocities and looting. The War of the Five Kings, where food shortages and riots gripped the population. Stannis' assault upon the riverfront walls and the carnage that had followed. Cersei setting off the Sept of Baelor in a conflagration of wildfire, leaving the neighborhoods around Visenya's Hill in blackened ruins. All acclimated the denizens of the capitol to death and terror.
But nothing like this. Months and months of starvation rations and brutal occupation had left the city on the brink of collapse. Food hoarded within large warehouses or hidden basements, even the mere hint of a food cheat would bring a mob ripping down the hinges and tearing the poor family limb from limb. The streets were lined with condemned wretches hanging from crudely constructed gallows. Executed for any reason at all, sanctioned by the reign of Cersei the Mad Queen.
The day began as any other in the city on the edge, but little did the starving citizens know that the bright and sunny morning would bring a far worse fate for them. A far worse carnage.
Such realization began as a black shape shot overhead. One seemingly a bird, or a bat - but some found this inaccurate. Shape far too big to be either, growing and growing as it seemed to dive. Beginning to circle over the city. A minute seemed to pass before confused stares turned into wide eyed terror. A dragon!
The Targaryens had arrived!
Crews raced for their scorpions, only for the dragon to immolate them in fast, precise strikes. As if the rider knew exactly where they were. Soldiers and smallfolk alike ran from the walls, many spotting a silver-haired figure atop the massive black dragon as it shot by, searching for Lannister military targets. None of the scorpions were able to fire a shot before immolating in dragonfire, soon all the walls awash in flame. Enemies neutralized with fire and blood.
Slamming onto the top of the ruined gatehouse, Drogon's great bulk extinguished the remaining flames. Head stabbing out in an ear-splitting roar that shook roofs and shattered windows all over the city. Proclaiming himself unstoppable, channeling the pride and arrogance of the rider that sat astride his shoulder. Dark magic of the dragonbinder overwhelming Drogon's mind and soul, struggling to break free of the mystical cage trapping him inside.
Muna! Kepa! Help me! Had he been human, he'd be sobbing, great dragon no more than a scared child wanting the mother and father he rejected in his despair. Please… I'm sorry!
Strapped to his belt, Euron brought a smaller horn to his lips. Brushing aside the bleached silver-blonde wig planted on his scalp - a disguise that would fool no one up close, but from a distance looked like a Valyrian dragonrider - he took the device, smeared with his own blood and that of the dragon's. Touched to his lips, he blew it hard. Filling the air with a crooning that further forced Drogon under Euron's power and control. A dragon easier to hold in bondage than to enslave. His lungs began to singe, only for a medicinal tonic developed by his own shamans and warlocks to soothe it.
Agony surged through Drogon, as if he could feel the burning of the flames he produced. Flattening his own soul, the malevolence tightening its hold on his body...
Euron Greyjoy thought of everything. "HA HA!" he bellowed in laughter. "I love it when I win!"
Gazing over the greatest city in Westeros, the true King of everything took in the hundreds of thousands of people. Each of their lives in his hands. With a mere command he could wipe out their very existence, and such knowledge coursed through him like all the lightning of a winter's gale upon Pyke. He was King, he was master, he was a god…
"Fire and blood, you fucking shits!" He clutched to the spines tightly. "Fly!" Drogon roared and took aloft over the city. "Burn them all!" With a sudden explosion of heat, deagonfire lanced from his maw to immolate what would be the first true casualties of the coming reign of the Kraken.
Having poured himself a glass of wine, Qyburn watched all of this from his perch looking over the city. Enjoying a moment of rest and quiet contemplation. "Lieutenant?" he called to his aide, waiting at the doorway to the chamber.
"Yes, Lord Hand?" asked the nervous Goldcloak. They supposedly fought for Cersei, but it was Qyburn who paid them and fed them. Armed thugs and scared boys knew who deserved their loyalty.
"Execute Case Seven."
The lieutenant blinked, in disbelief to what the Hand of the Queen said. "Case Seven? But the people…"
"Her Grace has given the order, and we did not calculate our defenses failing so spectacularly." The former Maester was good with words, and with logic. A few lies tossed in here and there and the arguments were greatly coherent. "For the Realm to survive, Queen Cersei determines there must be a sacrifice." Already, Euron was unleashing dragonfire among the civilians of the Fishmarket, smoke and flame rising over the city. "Execute Case Seven."
What else could one say? "At once, Lord Hand."
A mere five minutes later, the red-orange flames were joined by brilliant green. The smile on Qyburn's face nearly split his skull. "Perfection." He sipped at his wine, it being the sweetest in his lifetime.
There was something freeing in riding dragonback. Being able to witness the earth below, grasp a view only reserved for the birds and the gods… and the dragonriders. Jon never knew why he had denied it for so long. Felt the pain of not knowing his true self most acutely while on Rhaegal's back. Wind whipping through his hair and brooding thoughts drowned out by the roar of flight. Ygritte and Tormund had said that a man was most free at the top of the wall, unburdened by oaths and duties. They were wrong.
A man was most free while riding their dragon, answering not to men or gods.
Letting Rhaegal dive shallowly, Jon whooped. "Whoooooo!"
Behind him, snuggled against his back and hands wrapped around his waist - leaving a pleasurable tingle in their wake - Dany laughed in pure joy. "You were born for this, my dragonlord." She kissed the back of his neck, sending more tingles.
"Rhaegal has ruined horses for me." He could almost hear annoyance in Rhaegal's resulting hoot. The dragons had personalities much like humans, and Jon enjoyed deciphering each of them. "I enjoy riding both of my dragons."
Dany immediately slapped him. "Such uncouth manners, Aegon."
Laughing, he commanded Rhaegal to level out. In the distance he could just spot the massive bulk of King's Landing. "I had to learn something in the Night's Watch." Night's Watch… Left to rot there like a common criminal, just like Lord Bloodraven. At least he managed to have a life among his Targaryen family… unlike me…
His wife sensed his mood almost instantaneously. "Jon, my love. What's wrong?"
"I could have had it all, Dany." He sighed, hating to be sentimental and weak, especially in these times. "Grown up a prince, with my mother, father, siblings… you." Gods, he could have been betrothed to Dany from the start. "Never have had to live a lie. Live as a bastard…"
"Please, my love. Don't." Her heart broke for him. "If you look back, you are lost." Dany pressed another kiss to his neck. "We are here. We are married. Our babes grow in my belly and we are about to retake our birthright." Even so close to him, she couldn't believe everything that had happened - that they had survived. "The monsters did their best to seperate the dragons, but they clawed their way across the known world to find each other again."
As always, she knew exactly how to calm his pain. "I love you, Daenerys."
"I love you too, Jon. So much." And that's where they rested in silence for the next few minutes. Just enjoying each other's touch and the calm thrill of dragonriding…
Only to spot greasy black pyres of smoke billowing into the sky from the growing speck before them. "Seven hells…" Jon murmured. "That's one massive fire…"
The roar carried over even to them, Rhaegal suddenly growing frantic as he answered with a pleading shriek. Flight pattern growing erratic. "Jon! Hold on!" Dany tightened her grip, Dark Sister clattering wildly against her leg and Rhaegal's scales.
Jon willed his mind into his connection with Rhaegal. Boy, please. Calm down.
It's Drogon! Rhaegal's proclamation made Dany and Jon go white. He's in pain, terrible pain! The Ironborn monster is making him do evil things! Below, a tongue of red-orange dragonfire lanced out from a black speck upon the now enlarged layout of the great capitol city of Westeros. Scorching entire city blocks in moments as it passed by.
"Oh no…" Jon breathed.
"Drogon!" The sharp pain of his entire body filled Daenerys. The malevolence, deep and biting, drawn from a magic ancient and dark. "Euron is commanding my child on a rampage of death!" Close to crying, Dany willed for the rage to bubble up. The white hot anger that could command her to the most vicious of actions. Euron will die for this!
And in one wave, half a dozen points across the city detonated in a towering inferno of green fire. Immolating homes, shops, people into ash and rubble. Shaking even Rhaegal, shockwaves reaching into the clouds. Cersei! As Euron attacked from the sky, Cersei destroyed from the ground. Both seemingly determined to leave only a pile of ashes for he and Daenerys to rule over.
Not if they had anything to say about it. DIVE!
With a roar that even the gods would hear, Rhaegal looped in the air and charged in a steep dive. Straight for his own brother.
The walls of the Red Keep rocked from the distant explosions. Dust showering over Cersei as she stepped through the corridors. Increasing her pace, struggling to keep up with her Kingsguard and not wishing to be frogmarched yet again. Out of the corner of her eyes, massive fireballs of green flame expanded into the sky, intermixed with the great black dragon destroying whole blocks of King's Landing in each attack run. "Who gave the order to launch Case Seven!" she screamed at Ser Mandon Moore, literally shaking from rage.
It was not supposed to happen this way. The wildfire caches all over the city were only to go off if the Targaryen Army had entered the gates. Both dragons flying over their heads.
Ser Mandon trembled under his armor. Not prepared for such chaos - such threats of death. "Your… your Grace… only yourself… or the Lord Hand… can give the order…"
"Shut up, blithering fool!" She couldn't stand another panicked idiot - but he did speak an important truth. "I will be going to the Tower of the Hand."
"But your Grace…" It was imperative that if she was to survive, she'd need to get to the prepositioned skiff within Maegor's Holdfast.
Cersei threw up a hand, silencing him. "I said, I will be going to the Tower of the Hand." With Ser Gregor towering over them, none of the Kingsguard cared to disagree with their Queen's orders.
Sweat poured down her dress, soaking her skin in the intense gusts of heat and smoke blowing from the inferno that gripped the city, Cersei ached all over. Clutching her stomach as her tender womb stung and stabbed with pain, only iron will and pure anger forcing her up the stairs. A close by detonation of a wildfire cache sent shock waves slamming into the tower, bits of rock spraying everywhere and causing one of the Kingsguard - which one Cersei couldn't care less about - pitch over the railing and fall thirty feet headfirst to his death. Undaunted, Cersei pressed on.
She found him in his personal solar, seated atop a simple wooden chair and swirling an empty goblet. Completely still and humming a song quietly. Panting from the exertion, Cersei nevertheless stared at her Hand with a fury surpassing that of the conflagration outside. "Ah, your Grace. Come to see the show from the best view in the city?" Gingerly, Qyburn's bony hands reached down to grab a flagon of the arbor gold, pouring himself another cup.
"Why did you authorize Case Seven without my knowledge," Cersei hissed. Gesturing out to the city. Growing awash in flames and filled with the screams of the running and dying smallfolk. "You had no right!"
"The dragon was assaulting our city. Destroyed our defenses. It had to be done immediately.
The fact he didn't even turn around only spiked her rage. "You follow my orders! MY ORDERS! No one else's!" Shriek hurting her still sore throat, she paused to gulp in a breath of the fresh sea air wafting in from Blackwater Bay - likely some of the last clean gusts for a long time given the ash that would soon coat the very city like a snowfall. Another glance at the destruction. "At least the dragon bitch will die."
Qyburn chuckled, drinking more of the sparkling liquid. "I'm afraid it is Lord Greyjoy that rides the beast. He does it well, as if he was a Valyrian dragonlord in a past life."
Cersei's jaw dropped. Eyes widening at the dragon, currently unleashing fury upon the Street of Silk. "But… he killed the black dragon! How can he ride one?!" Suddenly out of nowhere came a green dragon, hurtling out of the sky straight for the black one… Euron. The Ironborn dragonbinder managed to bank out of the way at the last moment, trail of death paused as the green one - the Stark Bastard - gave chase. Further green gouts of flame erupting into the sky. Incinerating the once great avenue of beautiful homes and luxury shops.
"He is smart, he should find a way… You don't expect him to be loyal, especially when I promised him the Iron Throne if he burned the city for me. Add in making it look like the Dragon Queen did it, only for the Dragon Queen and her Dragonwolf King to show up is… perfection in the making." Qyburn raised the goblet to the destruction, a veritable pastel of glowing color that engulfed tens of thousands of people.
It took a moment for his words to comprehend to her. "What?" Cersei ground out, her voice taking a low, menacing quality. Forward strode the Kingsguard, taking positions to protect their monarch.
The disgraced maester didn't answer his Queen directly. "Did you know how I got this scar on my throat? I doubt Jaime told you." Finishing the drink, he sighed pleasantly, knowing it would all be over soon. "I was sent by the Citadel to Harrenhal, likely to get rid of me. It was occupied by Ser Gregor, back when he was still your father's mad dog. When Edmure Tully so foolishly attacked, Gregor torched the place and put the smallfolk to the sword. All of them, including me."
"Boo hoo for you," Cersei sneered dismissively. The city detonating in the background.
"Robb Stark's Queen saved me. An angel that saved my life when House Lannister tried to take it away so indiscriminately. The woman that your father had killed in the most brutish way." He chuckled. "It took me so long, but I finally have my vengeance. Making sure it was you and not the Tyrells that faced Daenerys. Helping her and your son flee. Ordering your army into certain death, and now…" A merry laugh left his lips, raising his hands in wonder at a plan successful beyond his wildest dreams. "Every dream you had crumbling in a maze of fire!"
The Queen had enough. "Ser Gregor!" Without her even needing to elaborate, the Mountain hefted Qyburn into the air by the back of his neck. Meaty fingers ready at the drop of a hat to simply squeeze and snap the bones. "You will die, traitor! You will burn in the everlasting hellsfires for betraying your Queen."
Even struggling to breathe, Qyburn refused to beg. Refused to break. Refused to let his gleeful smile die. "Your line will die. Your name will be that of a monster. Your own surviving child… will be raised by another. In this, I shall be at peace." At a single nod from Cersei, Ser Gregor hefted Qyburn by his feet and slammed his head into the wall. The same as he had the young Prince Aegon Targaryen over two decades before. Blood and brains splattering all over the Tower of the Hand as the reign of the false maester ended as spectacularly as it had begun.
She had imagined she'd be satisfied with the traitor's death… but alas, Cersei still felt empty. Turning back to the city awash with flame, all she could think of was disappointment that the order to light the wretched place ablaze was not from her lips.
Teeth bared in an angry snarl, Euron felt the rage course through his veins. The wildfire… he wasn't bothered by it. Drogon's unburnt scales provided the perfect protection, and it only shortened the time he needed to burn down the wretched city… an icon to House Targaryen, who had destroyed the Iron Islands mainland empire just as it had begun to expand to new heights. To raze it to the ground as a symbol just as Aegon the Conqueror did to Harrenhal. No, the wildfire was a welcome development.
But the arrival of the green cunt wasn't. Wig blowing away in the wind, revealing Euron in all his glory, the Stark bastard and his whore just dealt his plan a massive setback. I'll just burn all of them to the ground! Kill the entire population of the shit city… starting with Jon and Daenerys Targaryen. Glancing behind him, the faster Rhaegal hot on Euron's heels with furious bursts of dragonfire - Drogon dodging both these and the fountianing detonations of wildfire that erupted into the sky - he gripped Drogon's spines tight.
"Slave! Loop!"
I AM NO SLAVE! But Drogon was powerless to resist. Thundering his wings, shooting vertically into a powerful loop. Passing over Rhaegal and his parents, roaring all the while until he settled behind Euron's foes. Blast of dragonfire narrowly missing Rhaegal's wing and impacting on the buildings below as the tables turned.
Feeling the flames close to singing his cloak, Jon booked for the Red Keep. Sandstone walls built by his ancestors the highest point in the city. Wind slamming into his face as he kept jinking and weaving out of a perfect line of fire. The great castle came into view. Aim for the tower, boy. "Dracarys!"
Rhaegal shuddered midair as the tongue of flame shot out. Crashing through the bricks holding the Tower of the Hand - now deserted at the urging of Cersei's Kingsguards. It groaned, unbroken walls falling straight down and shearing against the destroyed base. Slowly, surely, it toppled over as Rhaegal yawed low to the left. Directly in Euron's flightpath.
The ironborn had quick reflexes, ordering Drogon in a hard yaw. Shooting to the right as bricks showered upon him, Drogon letting out a pained roar. "Fuck you, slave! Faster!" Euron blew the horn again, punishing the dragon and reinforcing his control. Drogon shrieked in pain and rage, flying faster. Nearly erupting around the bend of Aegon's High Hill to descend on Rhaegal from above. Only frantic maneuvering from the lighter dragon saving Jon and Daenerys from their enslaved son's deadly grip.
"He's fully under Euron's control!" Daenerys half yelled, half sobbed as they leveled out over the city.
Mother… he's in there… under the magic. Rhaegal could hear him. Faintly, but his brother was there, struggling to get out as the malevolence made him lance a jet of flame at them. Green dragon dodging out of the way, knowing that unlike poor Viserion, Drogon was only chained and controlled, not killed. You must break the bond of the dark magic.
"Only the blood of the true bond can break the curse." Bran's words hitting Dany's mind. She looked at Dark Sister clipped to her, and back to Drogon, red eyes evil as they bored in on them. I must use my blood… Such sounded what Bran meant. But how…
Jon suddenly brought Rhaegal into a tight turn. "I'm gonna kill that motherfucker!" Bellowing a wildling war cry, Jon braced himself as Rhaegal slammed into Drogon from below. Dragons tangling into a writhing and scrambling mess of wings, talons, and teeth.
Weakened as he was from the hold of the magic, Drogon's greater size was its own quality. Talons and jaws delivering far more force than Rhaegal's, inflicting greater damage than his green brother. Rhaegal shrieked with pain, wings flapping wildly as he tried to break off. He lashed back with a furious assault of his jaws. Snapping at Drogon's shoulder, drawing deep gouges of blood and a roar from the black dragon.
"Fuck you!" yelled Euron, thrusting at the Rhaegal's head with his own longsword. "Grab him! Grab the cunt!" Compelled by dark magic to follow his orders, Drogon's talons swiped at Rhaegal. Claws sliding on the green scales. Pitching his lower half, wings beating hard, the second assault clawed into Rhaegal's belly. Sinking deep and cracking several ribs, piercing scream from the smaller dragon's maw resonating over the city like the sounds of thousands of dead and dying. Further wingbeats sent Rhaegal slamming into several buildings. Crumbling them under the weight of the great beasts.
Jon gritted his teeth, holding on for dear life as rubble showered around him. Rhaegal's pain was his pain. Rhaegal's terror was his, subject to the additional fear of Daenerys gripping his waist tightly. One wrong move and off the side she would go, falling to her death and the death of their unborn babes.
"Rhaegal! Dracarys!"
At the command, Rhaegal reared back his head and let loose a torrent of dragonfire at point blank range. Drogon unaffected by the heat but knocked back by the blast wave. Tight grip of the talons broken as Euron angled the beast between himself and the inferno. The only one among the three human combatants that did not bear unburnt blood.
Righting himself, Rhaegal began to gain altitude. Taking advantage of the hesitation of his larger brother. "Jon!" screamed Dany over the explosion of another cache of wildfire. "We need to go higher!" She knew what they had to do. Against the stronger dragon, they needed height.
His beloved was far more versed in dragonback tactics than he. Nodding, praying to every deity that he knew for this to work, Jon slammed his palm against Rhaegal's scales. "Climb, boy! Climb!" The dragon obeyed immediately, wings blasting clouds of dust and smoke in every which way as he rocketed into the sky.
Shaking the ringing from his head, Euron zeroed his gaze on the escaping Rhaegal. "Oh no you don't, dragon cunts!" They didn't get to escape. His new world had many things, and the last survivors of House Targaryen weren't one of them. "Time to add another dragon to my control." He brought the control horn and blew into it, coaxing a roar from Drogon. "Climb, slave!"
Compelled irresistibly, Drogon aimed for his smaller brother and charged into the sky.