It was obvious it was Edmure Tully. In Vlad's opinion, he had gotten what he deserved, but it still wasn't enough. House Tully had to fall.
Not far away, a direwolf tore out the throat of a golden-armored knight before leaping at another enemy.
But Vlad knew it didn't matter. The war was already lost.
A horn echoed in the distance, and as he turned, Vlad saw horses advancing through the smoke and dust. A massive army, led by a chained stag.
The soldiers marched steadily, relentless and disciplined. At the front, fire blazed in the eyes of a red-haired woman who smiled directly at him.
Vlad felt the urge to roll his eyes, knowing prophecies were arbitrary and unreliable. According to Melisandre's visions, he himself might well be the reincarnation of Azor Ahai, as he watched the forces of the Starks and Lannisters collapse under the assault.
But then, the vision changed.
The sea boiled.
Vlad blinked, surprised to find himself facing the coasts of the Iron Islands. A massive black kraken emerged from the waters, and alongside it, ships burned beneath a furious storm.
On the deck of one ship stood a man with a patch over one eye and a cruel smile. He raised a black sword and whispered words in an unknown tongue.
—Greyjoy... —Vlad muttered.
The kraken roared, and the vision vanished, leaving him in darkness once more.
Vlad didn't plan to destroy many noble houses — except the Tullys, whom he blamed for the fall of House Targaryen. Of course, more for Daenerys's sake than his own. Then there were the Freys, whose very existence would only cause trouble later. A Frey's word meant nothing.
But one house he would destroy with great pleasure was House Greyjoy.
Truth be told, he planned to reduce the Iron Islands to ashes. The Ironborn were a scourge upon the common folk, and an element that had no place in the wheel of his future kingdom. They were murderers, slavers, rapists… and proud of it. So they would vanish.
Vlad walked on to the next door.
This time, the vision left him speechless.
Daenerys stood before him. Her pale skin was bathed in sunlight, and her hair was beautifully adorned. But something in her eyes had changed: her violet irises shone with a supernatural glow.
She held a cup filled with red liquid, and drank it slowly as she caressed her belly.
They were together, watching a sunset, hand in hand. But the image of the landscape shifted rapidly from day to night, as if someone had sped up time in a film. Vlad and Daenerys looked at each other with radiant smiles.
Vlad simply smiled.
He knew perfectly well what it meant.
At that moment, in the Audience Chamber, the Undying Ones sat around a long, decaying table, watching the same vision Vlad had seen. They all looked like freshly unearthed mummies, utterly grotesque.
Their eyes were blank, in a full trance as they witnessed the visions forming in their minds: the Iron Throne melted, the War of the Five Kings, the White Walkers crossing the Wall, a wedding drenched in red… and finally, a couple watching the flow of time. Then the vision shifted again.
They saw themselves—dead.
Their bloodless bodies suspended in the air like discarded dolls. The shock was immediate.
But it didn't matter.
Vlad's footsteps echoed through the halls. Distant crashes and tremors sounded, as if someone were cutting straight through a maze.
Then, the silence shattered.
With a deafening roar, as if the world itself had cracked open, the doors exploded, sending stone and rusted metal fragments flying across the chamber. A figure dressed in black stepped through the entrance, cloaked in shadows, his eyes glowing like the sun.
—Thanks for the warnings, but I don't need you anymore —Vlad murmured, raising his arms.
The blood of every Undying answered.
Scarlet filaments burst from their bodies. The sorcerers tried to retreat, to conjure illusions, to invade his mind with visions... but their spells dissolved like smoke.
One by one, the Undying were struck by his magic. Vlad's power penetrated their bodies, forcing the blood out of them, all of it converging into a small, compact droplet of blood floating above his palm.
He opened his mouth, and the swirling blood flowed into him. A thick torrent, laden with memories, secrets, and all the knowledge the Undying had hoarded for generations, poured into him like an unstoppable tide.
And when the last of the warlocks dropped to the floor like an empty husk, the House of the Undying began to groan from its foundations. The tower shook and began to collapse, bit by bit.
Vlad turned to a nearby wall and, with barely any effort, punched it. The stone cracked like glass, opening a passage to the outside so he could escape.
He simply jumped into the void, as if the height meant nothing. He even enjoyed the breeze on his face as he fell.
When he landed, the ground cracked beneath him, but Vlad looked fresh as ever. He stood there, waiting, his gaze fixed on the palace. Moments later, the shadows of dragons appeared in the sky, approaching rapidly with furious roars. Vlad had called them through their bond.
Behind the ferocious beasts, Daenerys, the bloodriders, and Xaro with all his guards came running, trying to keep up with the dragons.
Vlad simply gave the order for the dragons to attack the tower, which was already starting to crumble. The dragons, of course, were delighted, and soared ahead to incinerate the place as quickly as possible.
Daenerys reached his side, and she didn't look any less furious than the dragons.
Vlad spoke aloud so everyone could hear.
—Those damned warlocks tried to kill me with their sorcery —he announced loudly.
Xaro frowned; he and the warlocks had done business from time to time, so this could ruin his plans.
Vlad continued:
—I killed them as soon as I broke free from their illusions. Now I want that cursed tower turned to ashes.
Then, he looked at Xaro.
—I hope, Xaro, that you had nothing to do with this —he said, staring at him with a hint of false rage. —I expect an explanation from Qarth about this attempted assassination.