If King's Landing was shit before…
An intense rumble that shook the very tunnel dug deep into Aegon's High Hill nearly sent Arya falling over herself. Only a quick catch of her arm by her rekindled lover kept her upright. "Thanks," she mumbled sweetly to Gendry, finding her feet again.
Before he could respond the rather booming voice of the Hound took up all conversation in the tunnel. "Less fuckin' more runnin'! I'm not losing my brother to any swords but mine!"
Arya rolled her eyes, but listened. Both she and Gendry picking up the pace while clutching firmly to their weapons - they were at the point where hostile guards were a possibility, and by now the only population of the Red Keep were scared servants and whatever thugs Cersei kept to protect her. Better to run into the former with weapons than the latter without them.
Another crash rumbled through Aegon's High Hill. Massive enough to shake even the Red Keep itself. "Dear gods," murmured the bastards smith turned Lord Paramount. "Is Euron destroying the whole city?" From what they had heard, Arya wouldn't put it past him. They were all covered with soot and dust from the conflagrations from both Daenerys' black dragon and the stores of Cersei's wildfire.
"Fuck that, how'd he get a fucking dragon?" Arya was suddenly shushed by the Hound, perking his unburnt ear towards the ceiling of the tunnel. The wild wolf of Winterfell scowled until she heard it to. Even deep underground, she could pick up the thundering screech of two dragons attacking each other. Fireballs slamming into the castle above followed by intense crashes. A wolfish smile curved on her lips. "Jon and Daenerys are here! They've brought the other dragon!"
"Doesn't help us worth a damn! You take point, girl, come on!"
Maegor the Cruel had instructed the architects and stonemasons to build the tunnels under the Red Keep to his liking, and then slaughtered them all so that only he would know its secrets - just in case the Royal Family needed to escape. From her adventures, Arya knew them like the back of her hand and guided them through. Past every dead end and booby-trapped pit. Going through the cave-like tunnels and to the paved stone of the more designed parts. Ahead of them loomed the dragon skulls.
Holding up a hand, Arya flattened against the basement wall, Sandor and Gendry joining her against the clammy rock. They crept forward, careful for their felt-lined boots not to make a noise. Gradually, they heard it. Scuffing against the ground and the clinking of chain mail - and voices not long after. "You sure it's safe down here?"
"If the tunnels are fuckin' caving in, then the whole damn place is dead! And I don't want to be fighting for the Mad Queen when she blows this whole place up!" Arya looked up at Sandor who looked down at Gendry. Sure enough, four goldcloaks came into view, armor mismatched and only one wearing a helmet. They had fled in a hurry. "Any one of you fuckin' idiots know where the sea is?"
"Gotta be here somewhere, we can catch a boat out of 'ere!"
"Stormlands are cryin' for my name!" one laughed, his arms free of weapons and instead clutching two bags filled with gold and jewelry looted from the population. "Find a sweet lass with a plump arse and…" He was cut off when Gendry erupted from hiding and caved the Goldcloak's face in with his warhammer.
The fight was less a fight and more a slaughter. Taken by surprise, none of the guards stood a chance. Another fell with a swing of Sandor's sword, cleaving him in two followed by sickening punch to the temple to the supposed boatman. Cracking his skull and sending him sprawling to the ground. The leader scrambled to remove his sword but found Arya stabbing Needle through his soft palate. As Polliver did so long ago, blood gurgled through his windpipe, flooding his lungs and slowly drowning him. Flopping to the ground in a bloody, frothy mess wriggling in death throes. It was easier for Gendry several feet, his warhammer vaporizing the chest cavity of the final Goldcloak.
Arya wiped Needle's blade on the leader's tunic. "The best thugs food rations can buy," she spat with disgust.
"Still got your moves, girl," snorted Sandor, motioning them forward.
Leaving the guards where they were, the trio began running. "Stealth ain't a fuckin' option now," Gendry stated, legs pumping as they were drawn into the Red Keep proper. Past the mothballed dragon skulls and towards the stairs out of the cellar.
"No shit, Jaehaerys. Stop talking and fucking move!" Arya smacked Gendry on his shoulders, urging him to shut up about the obvious and keep running. Already, the pungent smell of greasy smoke and burnt flesh were permeating the entire corridors. Fighting to keep from puking over the floor, she nearly didn't see the guards exiting the stairwells.
They were arguing with each other. "Leave the Kingslayer. Fuck all the Lannisters…" Both were killed quickly, Arya slitting the talking one's throat with Catspaw while the Hound grabbed the other's skull and smashed it against the wall.
Gendry refused to move afterwards. "Do you have a fuckin' death wish?!" Sandor demanded.
"Jaime Lannister is down there," he replied.
"So?"
"We should free him."
Arya stared at her lover, wide-eyed. "That traitor? Fuck that!"
"He'll know the way around here."
"So do I, stupid."
"I appreciate the bedroom talk, but can we get a move on?" Sandor hissed.
The Wild Wolf ignored him. "Let's go, Gendry."
"I know you know your way around, but do you know where Cersei might be hiding?" Arya didn't answer, the bullheaded smith having a point. "After me."
Scrambling down the stairs, they were guided to the cell by a jailer who had pissed his pants and complied when Arya put Catspaw to his throat and demanded to know where Jaime Lannister was. The hound knocked him out with one punch and grabbed the keys, opening the door. "Feeling like slitting my throat before the dragons burn me to death," came the bored voice.
"If I were to kill you, I'd probably leave you to the damn dragons."
Blinking, looking up from his filthy, matted cot, Jaime found himself surprised to see Arya Stark in the flesh. "Lady Stark…"
"She's not a fucking Lady," Gendry barked.
Gods, I love that man. Instead of push him against the wall and kiss him senseless like she wanted to do, Arya grabbed Jaime by the scruff of his neck and yanked him from the cell. "We're going to kill your cunt of a sister before she finishes the job and burns the city to the ground. Where is she?!"
To her surprise, the Kingslayer didn't complain or try to reason with them. He merely picked up the sword dropped by the jailer and spun it in his left hand. "Probably in the Throne Room, waiting for something to happen."
"Good, she's mine."
"Nope, not-Lady Stark." Jaime shook his head as they began moving. "I'll kill her myself." Both Gendry and Sandor groaned as that started off another round of arguments, all four of them racing for the throne room.
Ironically, where the Lannister Dynasty had begun would be where it ended.
A sound not seen since the Dance of Dragons echoed over the skies of the Crownlands. Dueling roars, pale blue skies marred in tongues of flame. Soot and smoke from the giant pyre that King's Landing had become blinding the eyes of dragon and dragonrider alike. Fluffy clouds serenely blowing over the landscape were vaporized by dragonfire. Battles between Sunfyre and Vhagar with Meleys had nearly wiped out the Targaryens long before, and now both remaining souls of the once great House of the Dragon found themselves clashing with their own dragon - turned on them by the magic of Old Valyria.
"Faster, boy!" Jon yelled, hooking an arm around Rhaegal's spine as he yawed to the right. A gout of dragonfire shot past the green dragon, directly in the path of where he had just been flying.
'That was too close, kepa.'
Glancing back, Jon saw the massive black beast bearing towards them. Contorting in the air as he moved his serpentine form around to reorient in Rhaegal's flight pattern. "Stay ahead of him, my child." Even with Drogon's power seemingly weakened by the blood magic Euron Greyjoy used to take control, the Black Dread Reborn still was stronger and held more fire than the King's Fury - but the King's Fury had the advantage of speed and was putting it to the test. "Find cloud cover." Rhaegal hooted and obeyed, Jon closing his eyes to keep the blinding wind out of them.
Another blow of Euron's horn, unaffecting him due to the blood connection the actual dragonbinder still attached to his lead ship Silence. Drogon roared over the howling winds. It brought pain to Daenerys' ears - to Jon's as well from his grimace and even to the little ones nestled in her womb from the way they kicked and tumbled, but it was worse for her. Her beautiful Drogon, hated by most but the purest soul in her eyes, gripped by a malevolence as old as her people. Twisted from the noble, fearsome grandeur into nothing but a grotesque monster. Exactly what the propaganda said he was.
And yet, a faint voice could be heard over the rage and poison. Muna… please help me!
It slammed into her like a fist to her gut. As well as the image of Euron's grinning face as he continued to hold onto the most powerful living being - her son. "Fuck! Jon, we have to attack!" she screamed at him.
Rhaegal jolted, pitching up as he zig zagged to avoid presenting Euron with an easy target. "Easier said than done," Jon shot back, gritting his teeth at the frantic movements. Rubbing his eyes and thanking the gods that they had climbed above the singeing black smokeclouds. The fire burned in him too, wanting to rip Euron limb from limb… but unlike the Night King above Winterfell… No, they couldn't kill Drogon. Fucking hells! He still had no idea what to do as Rhaegal shot into a massive cloud formation. Disappearing.
"Come out little dragons!" Euron bellowed, laughing. "Come out, come out wherever you are!"
Drogon thundered into the cloud, white wisps coating everything. Wingbeats brushed plenty aside but it was too massive to fight alone. Emerging into a large cavern in the middle of the trio of clouds, Euron's head whipped around just as the dragon's did, looking all around for a sign of the green dragon. But there was none. Just white puffs on a blue background, illuminated by the glittering waves of Blackwater Bay and the smoldering pyre of King's Landing.
"Where are you fucks?!" He started to get impatient, fist not clutching Drogon's spines clenching hard. "I'll make it quick if you come out now!" Euron shouted into the void. No response.
His sea-green eyes flashed with a power so intense it was close to madness. Surging through the magical connection between him and his slave. Filling the dark alt-soul that shrouded Drogon's actual one and driving it to further bloodlust and savagery. They were almost one being now, the intensity of the power of the dragon close to overwhelming. Valyrians had the strength of blood to control their urges, but Euron succumbed. Every person burned to ash adding to his frenzy. It was powerful, it was monstrous… it was everything Euron had chased for, lusted for his entire life.
Absolute power, so close for the taking, and all that stood in his way were the two Targaryen brats. "AAAAAAGGGGGH! BURN IT ALL!" Drogon's head reared back, red eyes close to glowing as the fire spewed from his maw to engulf everything around him.
To the moving Targaryen Army - vanguard only an hour's fast march to the Gate of the Gods - or the citizens of King's Landing not concerned with escaping the inferno engulfing their city, one look up at the sky found an awe-inspiring sight. Flames streaking through the pale blue sky. Light a fearsome dark orange rather than the gentle, calming yellow beams of the winter's sun. It almost felt as if the heat could be felt even the many miles away.
And then the enterprising few spotted the pale green dot streaking below the clouds, out of sight of the fire-breathing monster. Each of them raised their hands in a cheer, exhorting and praying their King and Queen victory upon this day as they were driven ever forward. Reinvigorated to reclaim the great capitol city from the clutches of the Mad Queen.
For as conspicuous that a massive dragon was, Rhaegal could be as silent as Ghost when he wanted to be. Hiding below the clouds while his enslaved brother unleashed the torrent of fire upon nothing at the behest of his master's rage, he followed Jon's command to hover in place. Blood from his still open wounds falling to the waters of Blackwater Bay. "Dany, what are we gonna do?"
Finally allowed a moment to think, Daenerys relayed what Bran had told them. "It's gonna sound mad, but you have to trust me."
"It is mad." Jon's brow was knotted in concern as Dany told him everything. His hands drifted to her armored stomach - where their babes were nestled. "You could die."
"I've covered for that… if it works." She pulled his face to hers in a searing kiss. "I'm his rider, Jon. Only I can do this." Her free hand rested on Dark Sister's hilt, as if emphasizing her point. "Drogon can't die."
There was no plan that could save Drogon otherwise, boxing Jon into a corner. "Rhaegal, you ready for this?"
'Muna, kepa. It's time to save my brother.'
"Hepnon!"
Euron's head burned with the rage consuming him. Urging more fire to scorch the very clouds around him. Willing to slash and burn the entire world to eliminate his last enemies. Even as Drogon's near bottomless well of fire began to slacken he couldn't stop himself. "You can't hide much longer, you little cunts!"
Suddenly Rhaegal slammed into Drogon's belly, teeth and claws snapping and slashing at the larger black dragon. The blood filling his mouth tasting like vile sewage. Rancid and burning, something fundamentally wrong in hurting the brother he so loved… "Rhaegal, go!" Thankfully, kepa's order sent him off. Frantic wingbeats propelling him away from the massive thunderclap of Drogon's jaws snapping shut at his tail…
Just…
"Burn him!" screamed Euron, but the resulting blast of dragonfire was depleted. Half-hearted. Enough to scorch hundreds if on the ground but only half the distance. Blast unable to reach even the tip of Rhaegal's tail - cursing up a storm, Euron drew his short reaving blade as a symbolic gesture. "Fly, slave! Rip them apart!" Wings beating hard, Drogon began to rocket up into the air.
But the delay gave Rhaegal's already impressive advantage in speed a large boost. The King's Fury climbed faster and faster, wings straining and muscles burning in pure agony. Both riders held tightly, Dany's eyes buried on the still heated scales while Jon braved the stabbing pain and the black tinge on the outskirts of his vision, threatening to render him unconscious. 'Kepa, now!'
He trusted Rhaegal's instincts. "Dive!" With one final beat of his wings, Rhaegal roared as he looped around. Wings folding into his body with the thunderous dive. Lining up directly with the black smudge of Drogon growing closer and closer. "Dany, brace yourself!" The Queen complied, angling her stomach away from Rhaegal as she hugged the scales tighter.
In spite of his size and power, the Black Dread Reborn staggered as Rhaegal crashed into him. Talons digging into his flesh. Wings extending again to continue the downward plunge, dragon knowing instinctively to aim directly for the Red Keep.
With the flames of the explosions and subsequent infernos growing closer and closer to the walls of the Red Keep, inside it was pandemonium. Servants dashed towards whatever shelter or exit they could, joined by Goldcloaks whose status as Crown-sanctioned thugs didn't exchange to dying fiery deaths, dropping their weapons and stripping off their armor while joining the exodus. The journey to the Throne Room was therefore wide open for the team now bolstered by one Kingslayer…
At least until arriving near the Throne Room itself. The survivors of the Queensguard still surrounded the entrance, pissing themselves but still loyal to the direct line of successors since King Robert of House Baratheon. Halting right in front of them, Arya looked the knights over in disgust. Never having ever sworn to the Targaryens, opportunistically moving from Baratheon to Lannister in the decades since the Rebellion. Men without honor - mere craven sadists as Meryn Trant was. "Put your weapons down, now," she growled. There was no response, hands on their swords. "Do it and I won't do to you what I did to Ser Meryn."
Four swords were drawn in quick succession. "Fuck off, girl!" Fat old Boros Blount laughed. Each heard of what happened to Ser Meryn, and a little girl playing at war causing his death was laughable. "If you leave us the Kingslayer maybe we'll forget we ever saw you."
"She'll fucking do it, Boros Bump," Sandor growled, using the derogatory nickname for the fat knight. "Just get. It's the Queen and my fucking brother we want."
"Go have sex with yourself, Sandor," Aerys Oakheart hissed back, brandishing Widow's Wail as an insult to Jaime - having taken it as a prize after Jaime's arrest. I say we kill the knights and fuck the girl… fuck the pretty boy as well," he grinned savagely at Gendry.
The Hound's eyes darkened. "I ain't no knight!" and he charged. Time for talking was over.
Stripped bare of armor and weakened by lack of food, the foursome was still far more skilled than the well armed, fed, and armored Queensguards. Each had spent most of their knightly lives beating up civilians on Joffrey or Cersei's orders, or simply feeding themselves from the spoils of the populace. Boros Blount's last true fight had been when Lyanna Stark unhorsed him during the Harrenhal Tourney and it showed. He lashed at Arya with his sword, the assassin darting to the side - dodging a high slice and coming under, stabbing forward with Needle through a gap in his armor. Blount snarled in pain, blood trickling from his wound but surging at Arya. Gloved hand backhanding her across the marbled floor.
Slash across his chest, Gendry gritted his teeth and slammed the dull end of his warhammer into the plated gut of his opponent. The Queensguard was protected but still staggered back. Wind knocked out of him - allowing the bastard lord the opening to cave his head in with a furious downward strike.
To the left, Jaime battled Aerys Oakheart, driven by pure hatred even in his weakened state. Left arm flailing with an unheard of dexterity against the unskilled Queensguard. But Oakheart had Valyrian steel on his side, strong parries stronger and stronger until his bulging muscles brought Widow's Wail down so strongly that they cleaved Jaime's rusted blade in two. "Any last words, Kingslayer?" he grinned.
Jaime noticed movement behind him. "Duck."
"Duck?"
That was Aerys Oakhearts' last words before Bronn stabbed a dagger through his throat. "I'm always saving your fuckin' ass, Lannister." You or your brother's.
"How'd you get in?" Jaime asked, picking up his sword off the ground. It felt good to have it back.
Bronn smirked. "You think anyone cares about people getting into the city anymore?" Most traffic was that of people trying to escape the massive food shortages. "Time to earn my fuckin' castle."
Arya's eyes widened as she tried to crawl away… to draw Catspaw, but a heavy foot pressed on her hand, causing her to cry out in pain. Suddenly, she was yanked up by her hair - brought face to face with the fat face of Boros Blount. "I almost had a chance to rape your redhead sister, but you'll do." Gendry! Gendry, help me!
Before he could even move, something grabbed at Boros, dragging him away and dropping Arya. She expected Gendry, but her lover was feet away caving another Mandon Moore's skull in. Instead, Sandor Clegane had a hand wrapped around Boros Blount's neck. "I hate rapists," he growled. "Lucky for me I also hate your fat ass." With a squeeze and tug, the Hound ripped out Boros' windpipe, leaving the knight a mere lump of meat. Behind him, another laid sprawled on the ground in a puddle of blood.
"Arry!" Gendry was by Arya's side, embracing her. "Please be more careful."
She wanted to yell at him, but couldn't - Gendry sounding so worried for her. "I'll try… stupid." They both smiled weakly.
"Are we moving or shittin' our pants?" Bronn barked.
"Fuck off," Sandor shot back. "Help me with this fuckin' door." He, Bronn, and Gendry heaved one of the massive ironwood and bronze doors open enough to let them all through. Arya wiped a sheen of sweat off her brow and looked at the Kingslayer. His lips pressed together in determination. Time to fucking end this.
The Throne Room had changed little since Arya had been there last - still the dark, cavernous chamber with a high ceiling, blocked off windows, and large vats of burning oil that gave off its light - only with lions having replaced the stags as the sigils everywhere. What once had been elaborate murals depicting various Targaryen conquests had been scrubbed off and replaced with golden-haired Lannister heroes - all of which made Arya feel sick. Stealing the birthright of her brother and his beloved. Bile filled her throat at how she had spoken against Daenerys long ago, failing to trust Jon about the Dragon Queen.
Arya wouldn't make that mistake again.
At the head of the grand room facing the city was the Iron Throne. Sharp blades fanning out in the angry majesty that Aegon Targaryen hoped it would convey… blades soaked in the blood of all those that fought over it. And defiling the Targaryen relic was Cersei Lannister, anger blazing in her green eyes at the sight of the visitors. "Well, well. Arya Stark returns." She sipped at a goblet of wine. "And I see she freed my treasonous brother from the Black Cells." Beside her stood the Mountain, massive sword angled downward in a resting pose.
Proclaimed by Cersei to be the unofficial head of the party, she stepped forward. "All your guards are dead, Cersei. The city watch is fleeing, and your defenses are burning. Give up, and I'll make your death painless."
Her lip quivered, face reddening. "NO! This Throne is mine!" Cersei stood, stomping her foot on the floor like a petulant child. Eyes boring in on Jaime, realizing the truth of Maggie the Frog's premonition - the valonqar, Cersei had expected it to be Tyrion, but Jaime was her younger twin by seventeen minutes. "This is my crown! I bled and suffered for it!" Her voice turned shrill. "No valonqar will kill me, and the dragon bitch will find a city of ashes to greet her! Ser Gregor!"
In a league of his own in size and strength, the Mountain barrelled forward with a lumbering speed that shocked the fivesome. Arya darted out of the way only just, Gendry and Bronn batted aside by a meaty arm as Gregor Clegane gunned for his brother. While Jaime stood in a firm stance waiting to slash at the monster, Sandor bellowed at the top of his lungs and charged himself. Getting inside the swing zone of his brother's sword and smashing right into his chest. Two brawlers of House Clegane thundering, fists and knees flying.
The Hound was strong, but the Mountain was stronger as he pushed Sandor away - helmet ripped off of his head to reveal the demon he had become. "Fuck, brother. You've gotten even uglier." Saying nothing, Gregor raised his sword… only for Bronn to bury his dagger into his shoulder.
It didn't faze him. Sword swinging to force Bronn back - opening his shoulder to a hack from Widow's Wail, slicing through the plate armor and carving off a large chunk of meaty flesh. But an outstretched hand grabbed Jaime's arm and tossed him against a far off column.
Now it was only four to one.
Arya slid in, catspaw slicing through the meat of Gregor's thigh. It staggered him but didn't stop the behemoth. Sword cracking the marble where Arya's head had been only minutes before. Gendry buried his warhammer through the metal breastplate, cracking through flesh and bone, embedded in the plate… Qyburn's science experiment felt no pain… felt no fatigue. He was just getting started.
Coughing, spasms wracking his back and stomach from impacting into the column, Jaime struggled to pull himself upright. Letting the pain from the wounds and bruises from allowing the sweet embrace of death from taking him. Spitting blood onto the beautiful marble below him, a whiff of something caught his nostrils… a smell from so long ago, but one that Jaime would never forget.
Wildfire.
Barrels of it, just waiting for a spark to set it off.
Starting to crawl to it, he was stopped as a dagger embedded itself into his shoulder. "Argh!" screamed the Kingslayer.
"Feel that, dear brother?" Cersei's voice was not that of the beautiful, sweet woman he had fallen for, nor even a mighty lioness protecting its pride… no, it was the same reptilian monstrosity the Mad King had became so long before. A madness and rage that had completely consumed her. "That is how my heart felt after your betrayal."
Spitting out another dribble of blood, he tried to block out the pain. "I'd flip you off, but I don't seem to have a hand thanks to you." The knife dug deeper, but Jaime gritted his teeth. "All of this… all of this shit, it all began because you couldn't stop being greedy. At least our son is safe… away from you."
The knife made its way to his neck. "Oh Jaime. The bitch from my childhood was wrong." This is what she thinks of? She is truly lost. "Maggy the Frog said you'd kill me, that Daenerys would take everything away from me, but she is wrong."
"Fuck you."
A dark chuckle. "You took my armies, my city, my child… you think I care?" In her other hand she produced a candle, wick lit and burning steadily. "No one will ever have what is mine. No one!" The laugh turned into a cackle as she raised it to throw into the wildfire cache…
Until the ceiling collapsed...
"Fuck! Fuck!" Euron held onto the Drogon's spine by the loop of his arm, straining to get a grip with his boots to right himself. The beast was falling. Dragonfire reserves depleted and whatever he had drowned out by the green dragon. Bathing Drogon's wings with the furious fire - keeping the Black Dread Reborn from righting himself. Talons scraped and dug… always shallow, answered strongly but weakly by Drogon. Euron lashed out with his blade when able… and he was rarely able to.
'Muna! Kepa! Please finish me!' begged the real Drogon, smothered by the blood magic. Let me die!'
'Fuck that, brother. We're saving you!' Rhaegal punctuated his reply with his tail, large appendage whipping around to smash into Drogon's wing, ending an attempted wingbeat.
Every painful blow that was dealt upon Drogon made Daenerys cringe. Pain stabbing through her from their shared bond, but she refused to let up. "Faster Jon! Faster!" She dug her fingers tightly around his waist, holding on for dear life as the Targaryen King urged Rhaegal on. Pressing them ever downward to end the reign of the last Drowned King.
A particularly deep gash dug into Rhaegal's side, causing the dragon to screech in agony. This doubled Jon over in pain, hurting his concentration. "Shit!"
Euron redoubled his efforts. "Take him!" Head whipping around, the monster controlling Drogon sent the open jaws straight for the two Targaryens. Teeth sharp and ready to finish what the traitorous brothers of the Night's Watch started."
"Noooooo!" Dark Sister left it's scabbard in a split second. Valyrian steel glinting in the sun as it slashed across Drogon's snout. A roar of pain, enchanted steel of Old Valyria especially potent where others would just bounce off. Flashing amber for just a moment, the real Drogon forced the monster back - in time for Rhaegal to recover and bash his head into Drogon's neck. Wingbeats thundering both of them closer and closer to the ground.
Through some freak of magic, the connections swirled together so that Euron could hear Jon and Daenerys - and they him. 'You are doomed, dragonspawn!'
'I don't think so, monster,' Jon thundered back.
'Your dragons are mine. Your world is mine. Everything is mine!'
Daenerys smirked evilly, seeing everything upon the ground. Exactly where Jon set Rheagal's course to. 'Only a dragonblood can handle the blood magic, Greyjoy!'
A frenzy of screams from the Ironborn. 'Lies!'
'The truth.' Jostled by Rhaegar's fury, Dany nevertheless sliced her palm with the tip of Dark Sister. Letting her blood coat it.
"Only the blood of the true bond can break the curse."
The Red Keep below ballooned in size as the dragons approached. 'Truth is, Euron, you lost the minute you killed your brother.'
The command thundered from the throats of both Targaryens. "DRACARYS!" In one fluid motion Rhaegal extended his wings, let go of his grip on his brother, and shot a massive gout of flame directly at Drogon's stomach. Close enough to nearly explode, sending the possessed, roaring beast crashing into the roof of the Throne Room. All but obliterating it.
Everyone was thrown around the room from the massive crash, ceiling caving in - annihilating the frescoes and mosaics that whitewashed the history of House Targaryen. Euron flying off Drogon's back till he tumbled, bruised and scraped, at the foot of the Iron Throne itself. The black dragon stunned near the doorway, wings bent to just the point of breaking, growls and hoots of pain filling the air.
Rhaegal roared, flapping down until his great bulk demolished much of the northern wall. Lowering his shoulder till the two Targaryens scrambled off. Jon dashed towards the throne, Blackfyre and Longclaw drawn as he set upon the recovered Euron. His own short blade out as they began to clash.
Dark Sister covered in her blood, Daenerys raced toward Dragon - eyes fluttering open. Still a blood red of blood magic. She had to act fast. "Iā zaldrīzes iksis daor buzdari!" Valyrian screamed out, she plunged the sword shallowly into his neck, praying to the Old Gods and the New that it would work…
Jaws opening to attack, suddenly Drogon began to shudder. Roaring louder than he had ever done before, a wave slamming Dany onto the ground ass first, as if a malevolent force was driven out of the entire throne room. Wincing in pain, groaning as her muscles ached, Daenerys didn't know how much time passed before she felt a gentle nudging against her side. Eyes flying open, she found herself staring into a single amber eye. Warm with love. "Drogon!" Child brought back to her, Dany hugged his snout, letting him help her up. "My darling, you're back." A gentle purr left the dragon's closed jaw, all right in the world after so long.
Punching Arya aside, the Mountain staggered, arms wrapped around Sandor as he dropped his sword. The scarred warrior going purple in the face as the life was choked out of him - staring into the red eyes of the monster that Gregor Clegane always was. But suddenly Bronn, swung his sword, cleaving Gregor's arm off. Giving the Hound just the time needed to grab his blade and slam it into Gregor's chest. "Fuck you!" With a kick he sent the behemoth sprawling… right into the path of Drogon's massive talons. In an instant, the great claws slammed down upon the Mountain that Rode. Splattering the black ooze that was his blood everywhere across the Throne Room.
Blows angry, frenzied, Euron nevertheless couldn't match Jon. The strength of his attacks more than countered by the skill of the greatest swordsman of Westeros. Blocking a thrust with his own parry, Jon brought Longclaw down and snapped the short sword in two. Blackfyre angling up to slice both of Euron's arms clean off. The Ironborn collapsing to his knees, Blackfyre and Longclaw crossed at his throat.
The cold touch of crossed steel against his neck… the hot pain of his hands clicked clean off by the Valyrian blades forced a spark of clarity into Euron's mind. Knowing he was defeated, vanquished, the sea-green eyes nevertheless raged with defiance. "Finish it…" he hissed at Jon. "Finish me you dragonspawn motherfucker!"
Anger pulsing inside of him - every urge of Jon's to comply and end this monster's life - a harsh growl behind him made Jon relent. Drawing back his swords and casting a dark smirk about Euron. "My worthless uncle once spoke of 'Waking the Dragon.' He had no idea what it truly meant, but I do." He drew back, the massive heads of Rhaegal and the now freed Drogon snaking in to take his place. Two glowing pairs of amber blazing. "And now, you will too. Boys, dinner!"
Rhaegal darted in first, snout toppling Euron onto the floor. Jaw closing down on his feet and teeth sinking through flesh and bone. The Ironborn screamed, blood pouring from the wounds as Rhaegal jerked him through the air… screams ceasing in a gurgling mess, Drogon clamping his own teeth through his shoulder. With a simple tug, the dragon brothers ripped him apart, unceremoniously ending the reign of the last Drowned King with the sizzling dragonfire cooking the two chunks of meat and bone to a charred goodness.
"I definitely chose the winning side," Bronn quipped, sitting against a column from exhaustion.
Pitching their heads back to swallow the blackened flesh, Drogon and Rhaegal let out twin roars. Shattering glass, rocking stone, and thundering against eardrums. Booming across the entire city, mixing with the incessant ringing of every bell still operational as the Targaryen Army approached. As the roars died out, proclaiming the return of House Targaryen to the seat of power, the bells still rang. Clang, clang! Clang, clang! Clang, clang! A single sound of peace and calm even with the fires raging.
Watching with a smug satisfaction to see Euron Greyjoy's sundered remains disappear down the gullets of both of her children, Daenerys saw Jon's eyes suddenly widen as Arya screamed. "Daenerys!" Without warning she was yanked back, gloved hand clasped over her mouth and something sharp poking through the joins in her armor… right on her swelling stomach. The babies!
"'Younger and more beautiful…'" whispered the syrupy sweet voice of Cersei Lannister - glazing over all the rage and bitterness anyone could hold. Green eyes the pallor of wildfire, flashing with a darkness more reminiscent of the Mad King than anything Daenerys could ever be. "'To cast me down and take all that I hold dear.'" Her hot breath was like acid against Dany's ear.
The Queen's heart thudded in her chest, face paling. Surrounding her, Jon's dual swords and Arya's Needle were on full alert, but both wolves stared with fearful… terrified eyes. Especially as the knife poked into skin. Drawing blood.
"They said you would take me down, whore," Cersei spat. "They said the Bells would destroy me. Robert's ghost from the grave ripping all that I bled for… well you fat fuck. You dragon bitch. If I am to die, I'll end your wretched line right here, right now." Daenerys screamed into the glove as Cersei pulled back the knife. Ready to plunge it into her womb and kill the innocent babies growing within much like the Freys had done to Talisa. Both Jon and Arya surged forward, but there was no way they or their swords could get there in time…
But instead of the cold, painful stab of the blade into her womb, Daenerys only felt the quick pull of Jon's hands. The warm, protective embrace of her King drawing her behind him and away from any danger. Finally safe to glance back, the roaring dragon within found itself sated by the scene before her.
Blood dripping from his wound, Jaime used his last gasp of anger to surge at Cersei. Pulling her to the ground with a scream from her throat. His stump felt like ice stabbing through it as it slammed into Cersei's gut, stilling her violent thrashing for Jaime's hand to wrap around her neck. "Jaime!" Cersei croaked. "Stop…"
He didn't stop. Grip only tightening on her thin, creamy throat. One he had loved to lick and suck and kiss… Rage burning in his gut, the Kingslayer just channelled it into his fingers. Voice as soft and gentle as Cersei had once been. "Let go, sister… just let go." She croaked, she whimpered, she gasped in pain as her lungs fought to suck whatever air it could from her constricted throat. Skin going blue from asphyxiation.
"Jaime…"
"Please, just let go, Cersei. Go be with father and Myrcella and Tommen…" The flopping of her limbs, the frantic gasps of air. All began to cease. Pupils blowing as the serenity of death overcame Cersei Lannister. Wariness in his expression, a tear in his eyes, Jaime Lannister bade farewell to his twin with a single kiss upon her forehead. Slowly closing her pupils and pushing himself to kneel before Daenerys and Jon. "The usurper is dead, your Graces."
Both nodding, lips pursed in a hard line, their expressions softened and pulled each other into a tight embrace. "The babies?" Jon asked simply.
As if on cue, a prolonged flutter emerged in her womb. "They love you, Jon." Dany smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "So do I."
"I love you, too." Jon resumed the kiss, letting it deepen.
"Achem!" Both broke apart and turned to see Arya, shaking her head. "Much as I would rather ignore your disgusting display," there was a good natured teasing in her tone. "I must point out that…" She gestured to the massive chair still undisturbed by the near destruction of the throne room. "The Iron Throne is yours, your Graces."
Eyes boring in on the symbol of the wheel Aegon the Conqueror had forged out of the chaos that were the Sunset Kingdoms of Westeros, Jon and Daenerys merely turned back to each other and reconnected their lips. Her hands wrapped around his neck and his hands splayed on her armored stomach.
Both knowing what truly mattered.