POV: Daemon)
He stared down at his army as they marched, camp followers, washerwomen and who knows how many others following behind, trailing after them. Dark Sister remained in its scabbard, his blade had not seen blood for some time… When this war was through, that would surely be rectified.
He himself flew over them, circling around the army on Caraxes. His mount seemed pleased about finally being allowed to fly freely and he would not lie, he was the same. Though he would have gladly stayed in King's Landing to serve as Viserys's Hand.
Instead, he was told to take his dragon and patrol around the borders of the Crownlands and Stormlands, to ensure that Rhaenys's armies stayed far away from them. He was still fuming over that. His brother had named Lord Lyonel his Hand instead of his blood brother. He had served him faithfully, done his best to keep him on the throne and this was how he was repaid?
He stewed in his hatred, saddling Caraxes and flying without bothering to speak to his brother, to listen to his platitudes and promises, though that did nothing to stop the whispers in his head. He deserved to be Hand! Mayhaps he could show Viserys that he was more capable than that fool who ruled Harrenhal?
He would burn Storm's End, make it another Harrenhal and remind those Houses that had not declared already what would happen if they picked the wrong side. And he would weaken Rhaenys as well. It was a dangerous plan, but knowing his cousin, she'd be too busy with her husband and whelps to even dare face him and Caraxes.
And if she grew a spine and remembered her dragonblood? He would simply remind her that he was of even purer blood than her and that no lord would support her. Caraxes hissed, a noise that made him smile as his mount agreed with his thoughts. He circled around the army once more before urging Caraxes downwards.
They were no longer going to stop merely at the border of the Stormlands and Crownlands. It was time the Baratheons remembered that it was House Targaryen who kept them alive from mercy.
The rest of the march was peaceful, with many of the villages and holdfasts they had come to being abandoned. The soldiers had been forced to hunt, though they found little and less. Yet, as he saw Storm's End in the distance, he felt anticipation in his heart.
That was until he saw the large army, dwarfing his own easily. His own men numbered three thousand yet the army he saw seemed to be at least twelve thousand men. Yet that wasn't what made him stop. Men died easily against a dragon, no it was the dragon flying around them that made him clench his fists, grip tightening around Caraxes's whip.
"Rhaenys." He muttered under his breath, anger evident in his eyes. Caraxes was the same, hissing aggressively in the direction of Meleys. He flew down, ignoring his commanders, blabbering complaints about turning back and telling Viserys of this development.
"ENOUGH! We march on Storm's End on the morrow, I will face Rhaenys and Meleys. When I finish with her, I will set their armies alight with Caraxes's flames. Anyone who wishes to run is welcome to, though note you will be running into the belly of Caraxes if caught." He felt for Dark Sister, the hilt of the blade comforting to him as a vision ran in his mind.
Caraxes, wrapping around Vhagar as the two of them tumbled down- A prophecy. Yet he had only seen Meleys here. Did that mean his victory had been assured by the gods themselves? It made him feel proud. He had died in the name of Viserys, bringing down Vhagar. It brought a smile to his face, a joy building in his heart that he had rarely felt.
I will not die here. He thought as he rested, awakening the next day and meeting his cousin under a banner of Rhaenys. "Rhaenys." He smirked, a mocking grin covering his face, "Or is it your grace now? Though I believe a more apt name would be the Bitch Queen." He insulted her to her face. Two of her guards met his words by grabbing their blades tightly, ready to step in.
As if they would ever defeat me with Dark Sister in my hands. He scoffed, "Will you remain silent? Are you so pathetic you need Corlys to speak for you now?" Rhaenys pursed her lips in irritation and he allowed satisfaction to fill him. "My husband does not speak for me. I am Queen in my own right." "Did you tell him that?" He asked. Her silence was damning. "I thought so."
She fiddled with the dagger belted at her side. I will take that when I slay you, my prize of war. He'd take her daughter too, knowing that nothing would insult Corlys more than his daughter being forced to birth bastards of the man who slew his wife. Rhaenys met his eyes, glaring deeply, "I will give you a chance to turn back Daemon, I do not desire to become a kinslayer."
He met her eyes, seeing his uncle Aemon through them. "I am not afraid of such a label." He turned around before pausing and facing her again, "Worry not Rhaenys, I have foreseen your doom. I will not die at your hands." He vowed, mounting his palfrey and riding away. As men hustled and bustled around the camp, he saddled Caraxes and flew into the sky, searching for Meleys.
He spotted her, Caraxes releasing a shrill cry as it released a blast of flame towards the other dragon, Meleys responding in kind. His chains held him tight as Caraxes bit down onto Meleys's neck, the other dragon screeching while her rider did her best to hang on before it got lucky, blasting a jet of flame into Caraxes's face, forcing the other dragon to release her.
He readied himself for another dive, Caraxes unleashing his flames upon the knights below them before they met again, claws tearing into one another, savaging each other as a thundering roar split the earth. He recognized it instinctively. Vhagar.
Instantly, fear seized his heart, affecting Caraxes as well which Meleys took advantage of, biting down onto the other dragon's neck as the two began tumbling in the air before releasing one another, wounded and weary. That same thundering roar came again, closer this time. I must slay Rhaenys before I die.
He whipped Caraxes, readying himself for one final dive, intending to smash them both into the ground. He wondered what Viserys would think, if he would finally be proud of him and would know that in his last moments, he died slaying his brother's enemies. Yet, a massive shadow cast itself over him and Caraxes before Vhagar flew down, out of the clouds and biting down on one of Caraxes's wings nearly severing it.
Meleys was faster than he had anticipated as well, latching onto Caraxes's head, tearing into it as he could do naught but fall, pain burning through every inch of him through his connection, panic making him struggle to live. Yet even then, Caraxes followed his will, latching onto Meleys by the neck as Vhagar released his wing before the two dragons smashed into the ground, his chains having melted and sending him flying off into the ground.
He blindly felt his way up and yet he could not feel. He could not feel his dragon's emotions, his rage, his love, his happiness. It was gone and all that was left was a sickening gurgling noise as blood leaked from Caraxes's neck. "N-no…" He gasped, falling to his knees, seeing a man in Baratheon livery smashing a heavy hammer into his chest- "NO!" He roared, pushing himself up, pain fueling his every move as he slowly advanced upon Rhaenys, Dark Sister free from its scabbard and held above his head.
He could hear the thundering of horses, the roar of a dragon, Vhagar was close but would be too late. And yet… he felt the sting of pain, familiar as it was to him, gazing down at the dagger, piercing through his armor. His legs felt weak and his blade slipped from his hands. It hurts. It hurts so much. He wanted Viserys, he wanted his brother to comfort him as he did when they were young, soothing away his injuries. He wanted to be sung to, to be held in his father's arms.
Make them pay! End her life now! Moving his body was difficult as he felt lethargic, his movements slow before a man on top of a warhorse charged forward, the heavy warhammer in his hands familiar before it smashed into his chest, the hammer has fallen upon the dragon, will a new king arise? Yet Daemon Targaryen could no longer answer, the puddle of water around him turning pinkish