Daeron sat on a patch of grass, away from the noise and activity of the Dothraki camp. The camp was bustling with life, filled with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the occasional whinny of horses. Thousands of Dothraki warriors moved about. It had been some time since the Dothraki had bowed to him, seeing him as a god-like figure. He was still coming to terms with this reverence. The journey back to Volantis had been eventful, with his power growing in ways he didn't fully understand.
He looked down at a wilted flower near his feet. It was a small, delicate thing, its petals shrivelled and lifeless. Daeron reached out and brushed his hand against it. As his fingers touched the flower, he felt a surge of energy. Life seemed to rush back into the flower, and it bloomed once more, vibrant and full of colour.
Daeron stood up and moved a little further from the camp, seeking more solitude. He needed to understand his abilities better. He picked up a small rock from the ground and held it in his hand. Closing his eyes, he focused on the strength within him. He squeezed the rock, feeling it resist at first before it crumbled to dust in his grasp. Next, he approached a sturdy tree. Its bark was rough and strong. Daeron drew back his fist and punched the tree with all his might. The impact was powerful, causing the tree to shudder and crack. He examined the damage, noting the deep dent his punch had made. The strength he possessed was still astonishing to him.
Curious about his speed, Daeron decided to test it. He set his sights on a distant point and took off running. The ground blurred beneath his feet as he moved, faster than he had ever run before. He raced away from the Dothraki camp, feeling the wind rush against his face. He realized he was running faster than a horse at full gallop. When he finally stopped, he was breathing hard but exhilarated by the discovery.
Turning his attention to his ability to control fire, Daeron focused on a small flame in his palm. At first, it was a harmless flicker, warm but not dangerous. He concentrated, willing the flame to grow hotter. It turned from orange to blue, then to white. The heat became intense, so much so that the rocks nearby began to melt. He quickly extinguished the flame, not wanting to cause any unintended damage. He then approached another tree, this one younger and less sturdy. He focused on his hand, feeling the cold gather there. He touched the tree, and frost spread rapidly from his fingertips, covering the entire tree in a thick layer of ice. The cold was so intense that the tree began to crack and splinter. With a final burst of energy, the tree shattered into fine ice dust, blown away by the wind.
Daeron sat down again, the night growing deeper and quieter around him. Daeron took a deep breath, centring himself. He had tested his strength, speed, and control over fire and ice. Now it was time to explore a magic he had never used before the water magic he had gained from Euron Greyjoy. He closed his eyes and focused inward, feeling the unfamiliar energy coursing through him. It was different from the fire, ice, or any physical power he possessed. It was fluid, ever-changing, like the sea itself. Daeron raised his hand, concentrating on summoning this new power. He felt a tingling sensation in his palm, and then, with a subtle, fluid motion, a sphere of water formed, hovering just above his hand.
Opening his eyes, he observed the sphere with fascination. It shimmered in the moonlight, the water clear and pure. Daeron manipulated it, moving his fingers slightly. The sphere responded instantly, morphing into various shapes—a serpent, a dragon, a simple orb—each form held perfectly for as long as he desired. He let the water flow from one shape to another, feeling the connection deepen with each passing moment.
Just as he was getting comfortable with the manipulation, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned to see Arthur, standing a few paces away.
"Daeron," Arthur called, a note of concern in his voice. "When are you going to come down to the camp? Everyone is starting to wonder if something is wrong."
Daeron let the water sphere dissipate, the droplets falling harmlessly to the ground. He stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "I'm sorry, Arthur," he said, his tone apologetic. "I needed some time to understand... this." He gestured to himself, indicating his entire being.
Arthur sat down beside him, studying his friend closely. "You seem to be handling it well enough."
Daeron shook his head. "It's more complicated than it looks. Every day, I discover something new, something I don't fully understand. It's like I'm living in someone else's skin."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You seemed to have control over that water just now."
"Yes, but it's not just water," Daeron said, frustration creeping into his voice. "It's everything. Fire, ice, speed, strength. It's overwhelming. Sometimes I feel like I'm on the verge of losing control."
Arthur stood up, his expression serious. "Get up," he said, drawing Dawn from its sheath. The greatsword gleamed in the moonlight, casting a bright reflection. "We'll spar."
Daeron raised an eyebrow. "How will that help?"
Arthur smiled slightly. "You'll see. Get ready."
Daeron sighed but stood up, rolling his shoulders. He drew his sword, feeling its familiar weight. Despite his increased strength and speed, he knew Arthur was the greatest swordsman alive so he couldn't be careless.
Arthur didn't wait. He lunged forward with Dawn, the greatsword moving faster than it had any right to. Daeron brought his sword up to block, but Arthur twisted his wrist, sliding Dawn along Daeron's blade and forcing him to stumble back. Arthur flowed into the next move, bringing Dawn around in a wide arc aimed at Daeron's midsection.
Daeron deflected the blow, his strength absorbing the impact. He countered with a powerful overhead strike, but Arthur sidestepped smoothly, using the momentum to spin and slash at Daeron's exposed side. Daeron managed to parry, but his powerful swing left him overextended. Arthur capitalized, darting in and bringing Dawn up in a quick thrust aimed at Daeron's chest. Daeron blocked with a grunt, but Arthur's movements were fluid and relentless.
Arthur pressed his advantage, his movements a blur of advanced techniques. He twirled Dawn, switching grips and striking from different angles. Each strike was precise, aimed to exploit Daeron's openings. Daeron's powerful swings often left him off-balance, and Arthur exploited this ruthlessly.
Arthur was relentless, his movements a blur. He danced around Daeron, using Dawn to redirect Daeron's powerful but unbalanced swings. Arthur's blade flicked out, grazing Daeron's arm, then his leg. Each cut was shallow but precise, designed to wear Daeron down. Daeron swung hard, aiming for Arthur's head. Arthur ducked effortlessly, coming up with an upward slash that forced Daeron to backpedal. Arthur pressed the attack, his sword a blur of steel. He struck low, aiming for Daeron's legs, then high, trying to get past Daeron's guard. Daeron blocked clumsily, each impact sending shocks up his arms. This was nothing like his fight with the Dothraki Bloodrider, he sensed actual danger from both Arthur and Dawn when it was swung at him; as if the sword could cut him as easily as it could back when he was a regular person.
Since he had changed he was able to sense the magic emanating from Dawn as well as his own blade. He would have to be careful and not get too arrogant when around blades of this nature. Daeron adjusted his stance, grounding himself more firmly. He needed to control his strength better. Arthur moved in again, and this time Daeron was ready. He parried Arthur's strike and countered with a quick thrust, forcing Arthur to step back. They exchanged blows rapidly, the sound of their swords clashing echoing through the night.
Arthur lunged, aiming for Daeron's midsection. Daeron sidestepped, bringing his sword down in a powerful arc. Arthur twisted, deflecting the blow, but Daeron was already moving, bringing his sword around for another strike. Arthur blocked, but the force drove him back.
They circled each other, both with focused gazes. Arthur's grip on Dawn was steady. Daeron felt more confident in his control with every swing of his sword. Arthur moved in with a series of quick strikes. Daeron parried and countered, his movements increasingly faster. He swung at Arthur's head, then reversed the strike, aiming low. Arthur deflected both, but Daeron followed up with a punch to Arthur's chest, using his enhanced strength to drive him back.
Arthur stumbled, and Daeron pressed the attack. He swung with the most amount of strength he could use, that his strikes remained powerful but balanced. Arthur blocked and parried, but each blow drove him further back. Daeron aimed a heavy strike at Arthur's side, and when Arthur moved to deflect, Daeron quickly switched direction, slashing at Arthur's other side. The move caught Arthur off guard, and he had to step back to avoid the blade, he almost tripped over himself in doing so, however.
Arthur recovered quickly, coming in with a series of rapid strikes. Daeron parried and countered, his movements smoother and more controlled. He swung at Arthur's head, then reversed the strike, aiming low. Arthur deflected both, but Daeron followed up with a punch to Arthur's chest, using his enhanced strength to drive him back.
Arthur stumbled again, and Daeron seized the opportunity, his speed increasing. He moved with a blur, bringing his sword around in a wide arc aimed at Arthur's chest. Arthur barely managed to parry, the impact jarring his arms. Daeron twisted his body and struck low, aiming for Arthur's legs. Arthur hopped back, but Daeron was already pivoting, slashing upward. Arthur deflected, the force pushing him back.
Daeron's speed continued to increase, his strikes becoming faster and more precise. He attacked with a flurry of blows, each one aimed at a different part of Arthur's body. Arthur blocked and parried, his movements a blur as he struggled to keep up. Daeron lunged, and Arthur sidestepped, using his momentum to bring Dawn around in a powerful slash aimed at Daeron's shoulder. Daeron ducked and countered with a thrust, forcing Arthur to twist his body to avoid the blade.
Arthur spun Dawn in his hand, bringing the flat of the blade around to knock Daeron's sword aside. He followed with a quick downward strike, but Daeron was already moving, his enhanced speed allowing him to dodge and strike back with a diagonal slash. Arthur blocked and retaliated with a series of rapid thrusts, each one aimed at Daeron's chest. Daeron stepped in close, using his strength to push Arthur's sword aside. He swung at Arthur's ribs, but Arthur twisted, bringing Dawn up to block the strike. The impact echoed through the night, and Daeron followed up with a quick slash at Arthur's thigh. Arthur deflected it and countered with a spinning strike aimed at Daeron's head. Daeron ducked and kicked at Arthur's knee, causing him to stumble.
Arthur recovered instantly, using the stumble to pivot and bring Dawn around in a wide, sweeping arc. Daeron blocked, their swords clashing with a loud ring. Daeron pressed the attack, his speed increasing even more. He launched a series of lightning-fast strikes, his sword a blur. Arthur deflected them with quick, precise movements, his skills pushed to their limits.
Daeron's speed reached its peak. He struck with a rapid combination of slashes and thrusts, forcing Arthur to use every ounce of his skill to keep up. Arthur spun Dawn around, using the flat of the blade to block and parry; Daeron saw an opening and took it. He spun around Arthur's guard and brought his sword down in a powerful strike aimed at Arthur's shoulder. Arthur twisted his body, but the blade grazed his arm. Arthur grimaced and countered with a swift strike at Daeron's midsection. Finally, with a burst of speed, Daeron managed to break through Arthur's defence. He swung his sword in a wide arc, disarming Arthur and sending Dawn flying. Daeron held his sword at Arthur's neck. Arthur paused for a moment, then laughed, the sound echoing in the night air. "Don't think this means you can slack on your training," he said, a grin spreading across his face.
Daeron smiled back, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. "I wouldn't dream of it," he replied.
They turned to head back to the camp, but Daeron suddenly tensed, sensing something. He glanced around, his eyes narrowing. "Arthur, head back to the camp. I'll join you soon."
Arthur gave him a questioning look but nodded, understanding the seriousness in Daeron's eyes. "Alright see you soon," he said before heading back toward the campfires. Daeron watched him go, then turned his attention to the dark horizon "You can come out now," Daeron said seemingly to the air.
A giggle floated in the air before Adara appeared, her blue skin and white hair shining in the moonlight. "Your senses are growing sharper," she said, her voice a gentle caress. She floated closer to Daeron, wrapping her body around him as she usually did, her presence both comforting and intriguing.
Daeron looked at her, filled with questions. "Adara, this new body, these abilities... What else can I do? What might I develop?"
Adara's expression remained serene. "Every god is a unique existence, Daeron. I cannot answer that question precisely."
Daeron's brows furrowed in thought. "Then how do I understand this power? How do I control it?"
Adara smiled gently, her voice soothing. "Close your eyes and focus inwards. I will guide you."
Daeron obeyed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Adara's voice was a constant presence, guiding him deeper and deeper into himself. He felt as though he were descending through layers of consciousness, sinking into a world entirely different from his own.
After what felt like an eternity, he found himself standing before a large structure made of crystalline blue flame. The flames flickered and danced, casting an ethereal light. Daeron marvelled at its beauty and complexity. "What is this?" he asked himself, awed by the sight.
Adara's voice answered, echoing in his mind. "This is your being, your soul."
Daeron stared at the structure, feeling a connection to it that he couldn't quite explain. "What do I do?"
"Focus on it," Adara instructed. "And speak the first word that comes to your mind."
Daeron concentrated on the blue flames, feeling their warmth and energy. A word formed in his mind yet he did not speak it yet, the flames began to shift and change. The fire grew intense, its heat melting the surrounding ice, which pooled and then cooled the flames, allowing the ice to form anew. It was a continuous cycle, akin to the changing seasons; the vibrant heat of summer melting into the cooling autumn, the stillness of winter giving way to the renewal of spring. The process repeated endlessly, a seamless blend of creation and transformation.
Daeron watched, mesmerized by the spectacle. The cycle of fire and ice, of birth and rebirth, seemed to encapsulate his very essence. The sight filled him with a profound understanding of his own nature.
"Rebirth," he said, the word resonating deep within him. He opened his eyes, the vision of the crystalline flame still vivid in his mind.
Adara was gazing at him adoringly, her expression filled with pride and affection. "You understand now, don't you?"
Daeron nodded slowly, feeling a sense of clarity he had not experienced before. "I think I do."
Daeron looked at Adara, gratitude and desire mixing in his gaze. "Thank you, Adara," he said softly. Without waiting for a response, he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her bare, cold body. He pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers, the contact was immediate and intense.
Adara's lips were icy, her skin smooth and cool against his warmth. Daeron kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding into her mouth, exploring. Adara moaned a sound of both surprise and pleasure, her body pressing closer to his. He felt the firmness of her breasts against his chest, her nipples hard from the cold. Daeron's hands roamed over Adara's cold, smooth skin, his fingers tracing the curves of her bare body. The intensity of their kiss grew, becoming more frantic and hungry. He could feel her nipples pressing hard against his chest, the contrast of her icy touch against his warmth driving him wild. He grabbed her ass firmly, pulling her closer, feeling her cool flesh under his grip.
Adara moaned into his mouth, her own hands exploring his back, nails scratching lightly. She wrapped one leg around his waist, grinding her hips against him. Daeron's arousal was evident, and he pressed his hardness against her, feeling the friction build between them. He broke the kiss briefly, both of them gasping for air, before diving back in, their tongues dancing and lips crashing together.
With a sudden, almost aggressive move, Daeron lifted Adara, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. He carried her a few steps before losing balance, both of them tumbling to the grass. The fall didn't stop them; it only fueled their desire further. They landed with Daeron on top, his weight pressing her into the ground.
He kissed down her neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin. Adara's hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, her moans growing louder. Daeron's hands moved to her breasts, squeezing and teasing her nipples. He licked and sucked on them, the contrast of his warm mouth on her cold skin sending shivers through her body.
Adara's hips bucked against him, and he moved one hand down between her legs, finding her wet and ready. He slid his fingers through her folds, teasing her clit, feeling her body respond to his touch. She gasped and moaned, her back arching off the ground, pressing her chest harder against his face.
"Fuck, Daeron," she breathed, her voice a mix of need and pleasure. "I need you."
Daeron didn't need any more encouragement. He positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing the head of his cock against her slit. The sensation of her cold, wet heat was almost too much. He pushed into her slowly, savouring the feeling of her tightness enveloping him. Adara's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper.
He started to thrust, slow and deep at first, feeling every inch of her. The sensation of her cold insides gripping him was intense. Adara's hips moved with him, matching his rhythm, her nails digging into his back. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the night air.
Adara's moans grew louder, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "Yes, Daeron," she panted, her voice filled with ecstasy. Her thoughts swirled with the reality of the moment—thousands of years waiting for someone like Daeron, someone who could touch her and make her feel this alive. She had yearned for this connection, her body responding in ways she had almost forgotten were possible.
For Daeron, the experience was unlike anything he had ever known. Adara's cold, smooth skin was a stark contrast to the warmth he was used to. The way her body clenched around him, the chill of her tight, wet heat was thrilling and alien. Each thrust felt more intense, more electrifying.
Daeron kissed her fiercely, his tongue exploring her mouth as he fucked her. He moved one hand to her clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. Adara's body responded immediately, her moans turning into cries of pleasure. He could feel her getting closer, her inner walls tightening around him.
"Adara..." he growled against her lips. "I want to feel you."
With a final, powerful thrust, Adara's body tensed, and she cried out his name, her orgasm crashing over her. Daeron felt her clenching around him, the sensation pushing him over the edge. He thrust a few more times before spilling inside her, his own climax intense and overwhelming.
Daeron slowly moved off Adara, his muscles still tingling from the intensity of their coupling. He sat back on his heels, looking down at her. Adara lay on the grass, her legs still spread, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Her blue skin glistened in the moonlight, and her white hair fanned out around her head like a halo.
His gaze travelled down her body, pausing at her breasts, still firm and erect from their passion. Then, his eyes moved lower, to the apex of her thighs. He watched as his seed slowly flowed from her sex, glowing down to her blue crinkled hole and then to the grass. She reached out a hand to him, a silent invitation to join her once more.
Daeron leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on her inner thigh, feeling the coolness of her skin against his lips. He traced a path upward, kissing her flat stomach and then her breasts before nuzzling her neck. They lay together, their bodies entwined, the cool night air washing over them. Daeron felt a deep connection to Adara, something that went beyond the physical.
"I've waited so long for you, my Lord of Rebirth."
———————————————————-
Daeron rode at the centre of the column, his horse moving steadily down the well-worn path of the Demon Road. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the travelling group. The Dothraki rode alongside them, their horses moving effortlessly across the terrain. The journey to Volantis was long but they weren't far now. Daenerys rode next to Daeron, her silver hair shining in the sunlight. Ashara rode on his other side, engaging each other in light conversation.
"I remember our time in Sothoryos," Daeron said, a small smile playing on his lips. "The heat, the humidity, the constant threat of danger... it was intense. But it was also fascinating. One time I had this little white monkey thing that was my pet until it disappeared."
Daenerys leaned closer, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What about the creatures there?"
Daeron nodded. "The basilisks were terrifying. They could rip a man in half with their jaws, and the wyverns, they were like dragons but without the fire. Fast and deadly. We had a few close encounters, but we managed to avoid any real trouble."
As he spoke, Ashara shifted in her saddle, leaning slightly towards Daeron. Her top slipped a bit, exposing more of her cleavage. She brushed her hand against his arm, her touch lingering. Daeron glanced at her, his desire growing, but he was also surprised by how daring she was being.
"And the jungles?" Daenerys asked, oblivious to Ashara's actions. "What were they like?"
"Thick and full of life," Daeron replied, his voice a bit strained. "You could hear the animals all around you, even if you couldn't always see them. We saw giant lizards and strange birds with brilliant feathers."
Ashara let her leg brush against Daeron's, her eyes smouldering with intent. Daeron's words faltered for a moment, and he found himself stuttering. "Th-they were... the birds, I mean, they..."
Daenerys finally noticed, her cheeks turning pink as she realized what was happening. Determined not to be outdone, she blushed heavily but decided to try and emulate Ashara's flirtations. She leaned closer to Daeron, her breath warm on his ear as she spoke.
"So, Daeron, tell me more about those creatures in Sothoryos," she said, her voice softer and more intimate than before. Her hand lightly touched his arm, tracing small circles. Daeron, already struggling with the sensations Ashara had been provoking, felt his breeches getting incredibly tight. He tried to focus on Daenerys' question, but the combined attention from both women was making it difficult.
"They were... uh, fascinating," he stammered, his voice betraying his arousal. "The apes were massive, they... umm—"
Daenerys blushed even more, her face turning a deep shade of red as she continued her attempts at flirting. She let her fingers trail down Daeron's arm, her touch light and teasing. "And what about the wyverns? Were they very dangerous?"
"Y-yes, very," Daeron replied, his thoughts becoming increasingly scattered. "Fast and deadly, but we managed to keep our distance most of the time."
Ashara noticed Daenerys' efforts and couldn't help but smile. She leaned in closer to Daeron, her hand resting on his thigh again, fingers lightly brushing against him. "Daeron, you handled it all so well. It's impressive."
Daeron's breath hitched, his body reacting strongly to their combined attention. His breeches felt painfully tight, and he shifted in his saddle, trying to ease the discomfort. Arthur, riding a bit behind with Rhaella, couldn't help but notice the scene unfolding in front of them. Despite seeing his sister flirt so openly with Daeron, he chuckled. "Looks like Daeron's got his hands full, doesn't he?"
Rhaella joined in the laughter, shaking her head. "Poor Daeron. He doesn't stand a chance between those two."
Arthur grinned. "He looks like he's about to burst. I almost feel sorry for him."
Daeron heard their laughter and shot them a glare, though he couldn't help but smile slightly. "You're both very helpful," he muttered under his breath, earning another round of chuckles from Arthur and Rhaella.
However, they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of approaching hooves. Viserys rode toward them with a frown etched deeply on his face, accompanied by a nervous-looking messenger. The column slowed to a halt, and the air grew tense.
Viserys halted his horse in front of them and gestured to the messenger. "Tell them what you told me."
The messenger shifted uneasily in his saddle, glancing around at the gathered group before focusing on Daeron. "All Targaryens are forever barred from entering the walls of Volantis," he said, his voice trembling slightly.
Daeron's frown deepened, confusion and concern evident on his face. "Why?"
The messenger swallowed hard, then continued. "A mad tyrant, taking the name of Rhaenys Targaryen, is laying waste to Slaver's Bay. The Volantene rulers tried to parley but Rhaenys simply sent the messengers head back with a scroll in his mouth telling them they were next."
"A lie, Rhaenys would never do something like that," Daeron simply stated as his eyes bore into the messenger making him nervous.
"I-I wouldn't know m-my Lord I am just here to repeat the message, if you come to the walls of Volantis with your army they will attack," The messenger said nervously.
Daeron found his anger building. "Viserys, lead the horde outside of Volantis, I will be joining the messenger here and he will take me to his masters," Daeron said as he rode forward.
'What have you done Rhaenys...'
———————————————————-
A few miles away from Astapor the vast camp of hundreds of thousands lay in disarray. The men were suffering from Butterfly Sickness, a gruesome plague that had ravaged their ranks. Fever was the first sign, leaving them burning and delirious. Their bodies convulsed in painful spasms, making them appear as if they were dancing wildly. The final stage was the worst. Their sweat turned to blood, and their flesh began to slough from their bones, leaving them as grotesque shells of their former selves.
In a grand tent at the heart of the camp, one of the Great Masters sat, his face twisted in anger and frustration. The flap of the tent rustled as one of his men entered, his face pale and eyes wide with fear.
"My lord," the man began, voice trembling. "We have lost over half our men to the sickness, but it seems there are no new cases now."
The Great Master slammed his fist onto the table, cursing loudly. "The Targaryen whore! This is her doing!"
Outside, the camp was a scene of chaos and despair. Bodies lay scattered, some still twitching in their final death throes. The air was thick with the stench of death and decay. The survivors moved like spectres, eyes hollow and skin peeling away in ragged strips.
High above, a shadow swooped over the land, using the moonless night as cover. The massive form of a dragon glided silently, its scales barely visible against the dark sky. On its back, Rhaenys Targaryen surveyed the camp below, her eyes cold.
"Dracarys," she shouted, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
The dragon roared in response, a deep, guttural sound that echoed across the plain. Vhagar opened its massive jaws and released a torrent of dragonfire. The flames engulfed the camp in an instant, turning tents and men alike into blazing pyres. The fire spread with terrifying speed, fueled by the dry canvas and wooden structures.
Screams filled the air as men were incinerated where they stood. Flesh melted from bones, and bodies crumbled to ash. The heat was intense, the flames so bright they turned night into day. Vhagar circled overhead, the Dragonfire relentless and unyielding. Below, men ran in all directions, desperately trying to escape the inferno, but there was no refuge from the dragon's wrath.
As the firestorm raged, the Unsullied, commanded by Asha, surged into the burning camp. Their spears and swords cut down any who managed to escape the Dragonfire. Blood sprayed in all directions as the Unsullied hacked and slashed their way through the panicked masses. Limbs were severed, heads rolled, and the ground turned slick with blood. The Great Master's tent was not spared. Flames licked at the edges before consuming it entirely. Inside, the Great Master himself met a gruesome end, his curses turning to screams as the fire swallowed him whole. His charred remains fell to the ground, unrecognizable in the aftermath.
The battle was swift and brutal, a true slaughter. The screams of the dying filled the air, mingling with the roars of Vhagar and the war cries of the Unsullied. By the time the flames began to die down, the camp was a smouldering ruin, littered with the bodies of the fallen. The once formidable army was reduced to ashes and bloodstains.
Rhaenys guided Vhagar lower, surveying the destruction with cold satisfaction. The ground was littered with corpses, the stench of burnt flesh and blood heavy in the air. The Unsullied continued to move through the camp, ensuring no survivors remained. The victory was absolute, the enemy was decimated beyond recovery. Rhaenys dismounted from Vhagar, her boots touching the blood-soaked earth. She walked through the remains of the camp, the heat of the dying fires warming her skin. The Unsullied saluted her as she passed.
"Make sure no one escapes," she ordered. "We leave no trace of this scum."
The Unsullied nodded and continued their grim work. Rhaenys looked around one last time, satisfied that her orders were being carried out to the letter. She mounted Vhagar again, and with a final roar, the dragon took to the skies, leaving the burning ruins of the camp behind.
(Now some of you may wonder why they'd ban the Targaryens from entering. The real reason is they're afraid of the Dothraki horde, if they were alone they would've simply waited till they entered and captured them. As for how they knew, most of the free cities know of Rhaella, Daenerys and her brother, they travelled a lot so it isn't expected that when they first went to Volantis they were followed.)
(AN: So Jon finally discovers he's the Lord of Rebirth. I mean I think it fits with his powers being like the seasons and him being Azor Ahai Reborn, so yeah that makes sense or at least I will say it does. His powers will go deeper than just controlling fire and ice, but will be linked to rebirth and renewal. It will be fun and he's gonna start to be a little OP so I hope you guys don't mind. What's happening with Rhaenys, she's going a bit loopy. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
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