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Teen And Up Audiences
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Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
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Fandoms:
House of the Dragon (TV)Warhammer Fantasy
Characters:
Ikit ClawRhaenyra TargaryenJacaerys VelaryonLucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra)Baela TargaryenRhaena Targaryen (Daughter of Daemon)Daemon TargaryenCorlys "The Sea Snake" VelaryonHelaena TargaryenAddam VelaryonBackground & Cameo CharactersSilverwing | Alysanne Targaryen's DragonOriginal CharactersJoffrey Velaryon
Additional Tags:
Crack Treated SeriouslyCanon-Typical ViolenceThe Dance of the Dragons | Aegon II Targaryen v. Rhaenyra Targaryen EraAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceCanonical Character DeathCharacter Turned Into a HumanIkit got isekai'd as Jace's twinSkaven Species (Warhammer Fantasy)Death to all GreensHuman ExperimentationScience ExperimentsIkit is his own warningSilverwing still has shit taste in male ridersPOV MultipleBackground RelationshipsBackground Character Deathshow canon onlyDragon RidersAnimal AbuseIkit is an abusive dragonriderTho he's fairly mellow compared to his SkavenselfGood Parent Rhaenyra TargaryenNo beta we die like LucerysDysfunctional FamilyCannibalismBlood and TortureCanon-Typical BehaviorBAMF Helaena Targaryen
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English
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Published:2026-02-26Completed:2026-04-22Words:181,492Chapters:55/55Comments:1,270Kudos:749Bookmarks:160Hits:33,683
The Rat Prince of Westeros
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 46: Darius
Chapter Text
The Red Mountains, a mountain range that separated Dorne in the south from the Stormlands and the Reach to the north, gained their names from the crimson and scarlet hue they gained when the sun set. Others claimed it was due to the amount of blood that had been spilled between the Iron Throne and Dorne. Either all, they were red. Darius guessed the actual reason didn't matter.
However with the third Vulture King roaming the mountains, leading raids to the southern part of the Iron Throne's territory, that blood was indeed running again. Darius knew enough of the landscape, following well worn tracks and narrow paths as they kept a close eye upon the Stormlands even as news of the civil war between the Targaryen royal family came to them.
Dragonlords had never visited Dorne again after the Conquest barring this very year, and his grave bloody insult left many in Dorne demanding they march to war especially as the dragons themselves were caught in a civil war. Perfect time to launch a counter attack, yet Sunspear was more occupied with rebuilding its wars in light of the devastation the dragon attack had inflicted upon the capital.
Here in the Red Mountains they did their own acts of war in raiding and pillaging which was encouraged by Sunspear and their reigning prince. The mountains were rife with deep cut valleys dotted with scrubs and thorny trees, with sandstone cliffs and deep crevasses, caves pockmarking the various hills and ranges, where scorpions and lizards scurried and hawks flew. It was a place those from hot sandy Dorne felt comfortable in, Darius having no quarrel with the sun or the scorched rock as he followed the raiders as they retreated back to their caves for rest. The inner caverns was massive enough they could fit their camp for nearly one thousand men with space to spare, with a fresh water stream running through the dark cool rock floor.
A dragon had at one point been spotted circling the southern most edge of the Red Mountains, most likely from Storm's End where they heard many conflicting reports and messages. They did not have Scorpions to shoot it down and instead remained lurking near the caves until it vanished back down the coastline.
They all knew what the Targaryens were like- the Conquest showed it well and true then further actions by King Jaehaerys and Prince Daemon upon the Stepstones. They could be defied yes, as Meraxes remained the greatest achievement in Dorne, and for so long Dorne had gone without leathery wings in the sky since Queen Rhaenys was shot down.
Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.
A mantra sung well and proud throughout Dorne, as the Conquest which brought all six other kingdoms to its knees failed within Dorne. In Sunspear itself, Meraxes plummeting from the sky with her dragonqueen dying with her. Aegon the Conqueror failed and for a hundred years Dorne stood proud against House Targaryen and their dragons.
Then Prince Ikit attacked and burned down Sunspear, killing Prince Qoren Martell and mutilating his daughter. Most of the court had been torn apart as well, in a carnage many still struggled to understand. A madman, a witch king, the Rat Prince, all words used to describe the one who did it.
Princess Aliandra had survived but was left in such a state she would never walk nor feed herself again. Her younger siblings Qyle and Coryanne had stepped in to aid their sister in her abrupt ascension to rule but while Darius hadn't seen the princess personally, many muttered it would have been a greater kindness if the Rat Prince had actually killed her.
Darius kept his opinion to himself, but even for one of the Martell blood being crippled to such an extent was cruelty. He felt that perhaps it was the point of Prince Ikit's mutilation. Dorne had been aiding the Triarchy during the Stepstones, with the Three Daughters so blatantly invading during the civil war it made sense the Targaryen prince believed Dorne had a hand in it. Sunspear had been spared dragonflame in the Conquest, it would seem the current generation of Targaryens weren't as merciful.
Then again considering the rumours they had heard from Essos, the Rat Prince made King Maegor seem like a very pleasant fellow.
It was something their group spoke about, between their raids across the Stormlands. The Vulture King was the title given to the leader of those in the Red Mountains, the first rising during King Aenys's time and then again during King Jaehaerys and then now during King Aegon or Queen Rhaenyra since no one in Westeros was actually sure of which one currently sat the Iron Throne.
Even if they heard that King Aegon was dead but they had heard that several times before.
Darius talked about it over dice games in one of the caves, which was larger than some feast halls and lit with dozens of torches and several braziers. Most of their current scouts were keeping an eye on Storm's End, where Lord Borros Baratheon had been mustering around six thousand men. If he marched for King's Landing then Storm's End would be ripe for the picking, as would the various smaller keeps and villages across the Stormlands.
Bandit lords the men of the Red Mountains were typically called, but the people of Dorne itself ignored them as they kept their raids to the north. Darius himself had grown bored with his life upon the farm and sought out swordwork, and the Red Mountains was where many left to find adventure and blood especially when Princess Aliandra had encouraged her lords and knights to prove themselves to Dorne by raiding in the Dornish Marches and the northern kingdoms.
He wondered if she regretted such statements now, considering how violently House Targaryen had responded to such a thing. But no matter, in the Red Mountains they were far from Sunspear and focused upon the north lands especially with such opportunities. Darius kept his crossbow and shortsword handy, eager to spill some blood and loot riches.
Then their scouts vanished, having never returned from their watch upon Storm's End. Then those keeping watch within the Red Mountains themselves started to vanish.
The Vulture King demanded they never go alone, always traveling in groups of three or four as they searched across the cliffs and crags. All they found was a neat pyramid of skulls upon one of the narrow cliffs, partially burnt and with scraps of flesh and hair attached with the tattered Dornish flag hanging above them.
Darius kept his crossbow loaded as he walked and when they returned to the caves, with plans to begin a full push into the Stormland's that following morning as whoever was stalking them was obviously making use of the various crags and splits, when they marched into the open it would force their stalker forward.
Yet upon that morn when the pack of bandits swelled and spilled from the cave to across the rocky paths and head northward, did a dragon come clambering up the gully.
Huge, with pale blue scales with silver threads and folded pink wings with several skulls tied to the saddle like a macabre decoration. Its breath was searing, enveloping the dozen men before him in a burst of heat before anyone could truly react. Men screamed and died and fled, and the dragon chased after them on all fours. It spat out flames and men trampled over themselves to escape it.
Several tried to fight, only to be mauled by huge jaws and crushed beneath immense clawed talons or burnt to ash. The stench of roasted meat filled the air as arrows and bolts pinged off the dragon's hide, as it was no yearling wounded by normal arms.
Darius didn't even bother to try, fleeing with the survivors back to their camp within the immense mountain-side cave. A dragon upon the ground had not been an enemy they expected.
The Vulture King shouted orders, directing those with shields in front with bowmen at the rear and the rest in support. The man himself was wearing his armour, with the stylized vulture burnt upon the breast, with a morning star and shield in hand.
Darius kept his crossbow raised as he stood at the back with the other men with bows and crossbows, knowing the dragon clambering through the mountain ranges was far too large to enter the cave entrance. There were also several different exits, so if all else failed they could flee down one of the far more narrow passages, but for now they obeyed.
The Vulture King was much the same mindset as Darius, saying loudly, "The beast can't enter! If it pokes its snout in here then we'll riddle its eyes with quarrels and watch it die like our ancestors did with Meraxes. It had an empty saddle, the rider may have fallen off and the beast is simply rampaging."
"No, I am healthy and hale. Yet thank you for your concern, good ser."
The voice was gentle and lilting, making all the men twist about as they faced the newcomer as they emerged from one of the other cave entrances, small and narrow that only a child or a svelte woman could pass through easily. The torches lighting the camp seemed to brighten at her presence, the air growing ever more warm even if from outside they could all still smell the stink of burning flesh, the distant noises of bones snapping under sharp teeth.
Yet somehow to Darius, this woman seemed more frightening than the dragon even as she came closer and closer, only to half a few feet from the wall of armed men and seemingly unbothered by all the spears pointed at her.
The beauty of those who held the blood of Old Valyria was known well throughout the world, even long after the Doom, and the woman that approached them bore that blood strong and true. Beautiful and wild, wearing ragged scraps of black armour upon her breast, at her shoulders and waist yet her limbs bare. Her silver-gold hair was loose, drifting behind her in a silken sheet stained crimson at the tips. At one hip was a skull, small enough to be a child, polished and bleached and bound to her in chains and in one hand she held a gleaming sword with rotating teeth at the blade edge. A strange symbol had been carved onto her makeshift breastplate; almost like a heavy cross, with a horizontal line struck through it and resting upon a jagged-toothed base like a saw blade. The symbol felt as if it would burn Darius's eyes if he stared at it for too long.
The blood that coated her, wet and vivid, only made her beauty even more apparent. The whites of her purple eyes were crimson, the same hue staining her arms up to the elbow like gloves and coated her bare feet and shins. Like a goddess of the Doom, cloaked in blood and death, rising from the shadows to them. A wildness to her that set Darius's teeth on edge.
The Valyrians were said to be more than dragonlords. They practiced blood magic and other dark arts as well, an empire raised upon fire and blood before the Doom swallowed them whole. Yet it would seem with this woman before them, and what Darius had heard of Sunspear with the Rat Prince, even the Targaryens of this age remembered those forbidden secrets.
"What do you want from us, Targaryen?" the Vulture King spat. "Aren't you supposed to fighting your own kith and kin in some idiotic war? Why are you here, in Dorne?"
"Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken," the woman's voice was soft, lilting, as she utterly ignored his words. "How strange, what I heard my nephew thoroughly broke your prince and princess well and true. Seems a more hands on approach is what was needed, which Aegon the Conqueror did not do."
The Vulture King pointed his morning star at her, "You overstep yourself, Targaryen. You believe we will treat you gently simply because you are a woman? We have killed female dragonriders before, and it is even claimed that Queen Rhaenys survived the fall of Meraxes and died a slow death of being tortured, or that she was kept alive in extreme torment. You believe we won't inflict that upon you as well, dragonwhore?"
The woman didn't stop smiling, even she raised the chainsword to point it at them. Her expression was at odds with her bloody appearance, bearing the gentleness of a woman smiling down at her beloved children. All Darius could smell was blood and symbol upon her breast seemed to burn within his eyes as if he was staring at the sun, and he wanted nothing else but to flee.
"Prove your courage," the woman said still so light and gentle, as the teeth of the chainsword gleamed in the torchlight. "Slay without pity, triumph without remorse. Take my skull or I shall take yours. Let the blood flow."
The Vulture King leapt forward, the morning star lashing out at her head. The woman darted forward with unnatural speed, her chainsword biting in the man's neck before he even registered her attack. The screech of metal, of flesh tearing free, blood spraying up in a great arc and a moment later the Vulture King's headless body went stumbling past as his skull dropped down into the fresh water stream with a soft splash.
It was madness then, as the woman laughed in delight and then attacked them. She bore an unnatural strength and speed, catching a sword in her bare hand and snapping the blade as the blood seemed to be sucked up into her skin, and kicking a man so hard she caved in his breastplate.
Men were screaming, a brazier was knocked over in the pandemonium and then the camp was catching alight. Smoke rose thick and black, with many men panicking as the air began to choke them. Several went on fire, stumbling into the burning tents or being knocked into them, while the woman hacked and slashed at them with her twisted toothy sword as blood and guts splattered across the floor. It tore through metal and armour as easily as flesh, blood spraying in great arcs and soaking her fully until she looked painted in red while the symbol upon her chest glowed cherry-red.
Some made the mistake of fleeing towards the main entrance in their panic, only to run into the dragon waiting outside. A jet of flames killed over two dozen men in a single blast, the cave lighting up as if in midday as the stream blasting at the wall and making the ancient stone glow like embers.
Darius stumbled back, skidding on spilled innards as the woman cut off the arms of the archer in front of him. As she turned, still with that horrible soft smile, Darius yanked up his crossbow and fired. The bolt struck the woman in the throat, knocking her backwards. It had buried so deeply in the pale skin it near sank up to the fletchings, the type of shot that had killed Prince Aemon Targaryen so long ago.
Here however the woman simply reached up and tore the quarrel from her throat. Ignoring the red spilling free of the wound she lunged at him with her chainsword lashing out. It tore through his crossbow, shredding the wood and steel with a horrendous noise. He fell over, the wind being knocked from him as she stood astride him. The twisted hole in her throat seemed to drink the blood staining her flesh, slowly sealing itself as he lay there transfixed by the horrible vision above him.
"Blood for the Blood God," he heard the woman call out before the twisted teeth of the chainsword swung down directly into his face.
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