Dragons of Destiny

Lorath 307 AC.

Dany.

She had never hated Sansa Stark, not truly, until now at least. The girl had made her feelings about her clear from the moment Dany had arrived in Winterfell. Sansa had plotted against her extensively and yet, Dany had not hated her. Even after hearing some of the words she'd spoken about her daughter, Dany had still only disliked the woman who should have been her Goodsister. For the last few days, however, Dany had begun to feel hatred in her heart for Sansa Stark.

Seeing the look on Aegon's face as he readied to fly to Westeros to deal with his cousin once and for all had been the start of it. Listening to her daughter beg and plead for her father to stay with them and not leave had then been enough to truly allow the feeling to grow. Each day they had marched without Aegon by their sides and broken their fasts, eaten their meals, or she had laid in their bed without him, had made her hate Sansa Stark as truly as she had hated anyone.

Not even on the morning flights with Rhaella would she be able to ignore that feeling either. For while her daughter welcomed being in the sky and seeing Lyarhaex so close, as soon as they landed Rhaella's expression would change. The absence of Aegon would again be noticed and seeing the sad look on Rhaella's face was becoming much too hard to bear. Was it not for Missandei, Ghost, and others, then Dany would have found herself unable to bear it. Had she not got Rhaenys with her, then who knows whether or not she'd have given in to her own sad feelings or allowed her anger to be her guide. As it was, she somehow put on a brave face and did as she must.

"We should fly, Dany," Rhaenys said, taking her from yet another daydream where she, Aegon, and Rhaella were playing some game or other together.

"What?" she asked confused, having not heard the beginning or any of the conversation they were engaged in.

"I said we should fly, Dany. We're but a day or two from Lorath, while both Lady Kinvara and Lady Malora say we face no true danger there, I'd feel more comfortable if we saw it somewhat for ourselves."

"You have the right of it, Rhaenys. We'll fly when we make camp."

They rode in silence for the next few moments. Dany looked to see the carriage that Rhaella and Missandei rode in and welcomed seeing Ghost unbothered as he walked alongside it. Her thoughts then turned to what they needed to do in Lorath and to where they'd go from there. A part of her wished to go to Braavos while another wished for nothing more than to climb on Drogon's back and fly to Westeros. Deep down, however, Dany knew she'd do neither. From Lorath it would be Pentos and then onto the Three Daughters, the last remaining true holdouts of their conquest of Essos. With good fortune, Aegon should join them on the march to the former. Something that Rhaenys believed was to happen too, given the words she then spoke.

"He'll be well, Dany. I hold no fear for my brother. Aegon will return long before we reach Pentos." Rhaenys said firmly.

"I believe so too," she said, just as firmly, finally finding herself able to relax a little at the thoughts of her husband being back by her and Rhaella's side.

With a nod to Rhaenys and a glance to her Goodbrother bidding Ned to ride up and take her place, Dany bid her silver to turn and then rode to Rhaella's carriage. She dismounted quickly and with a soft stroke to Ghost's head, Dany then climbed into the carriage and joined her best friend and her daughter.

"Mama, missed you," Rhaenys said happily as Missandei moved from her seat to allow Dany to take her place beside her daughter.

"Missed you too, little dragon," she said as she was enveloped in a most welcome hug and felt her daughter's lips on her cheek as she kissed her happily.

The next few hours were first spent playing a game with her daughter and Missandei and then to her surprise, napping. Which of them had drifted off first, she knew not. Only that by the time she had woken, their camp was being set up. With some daylight remaining, she forewent her meal and instead made her way to the dragons. Then she and Rhaenys were soon in the sky and flying towards Lorath.

Once they reached the city, they flew high enough so that they'd not be seen, but low enough so they could see all they wished to. There were no defenses being set up and no army laying in wait which pleased her greatly. The city looked to be one that was not preparing for a battle of any sort. So both Lady Kinvara's and Lady Malora's words were proven even more true. After one last flight over the city and a quick look to the docks and the sea beyond them, they turned and flew back to their camp.

Dany held no meeting with her war council that night. Instead, she ate her meal with her daughter in her arms and once they'd both eaten their fill, she retired for the night and bid Rhaenys to inform everyone of what they'd seen. Sleep was easy to come by, much to her surprise, and her dreams were as pleasant as she could have wished them to be. They were of days spent on Dragonstone as she and Aegon watched their daughter grow. Dreams of being held in Aegon's arms and feeling his fingers touch her swollen belly as they watched their daughter sleep. Upon waking the next morning, she felt better than she had in quite a few days. She, Rhaella, Missandei, and Rhaenys all broke their fast together before Dany held a war council and they began to march once more.

Three days later they reached Lorath and Dany looked on from atop her silver as her army surrounded the city. Once they'd done so, Dany made her way to where Ser Brienne and Missandei were. As with any of the cities they'd taken without a fight, the arrangements made to ensure Rhaella's safety were of paramount importance. Even if they were not as extensive as those made where they faced some opposition. A hundred Unsullied, almost a thousand Dothraki, Ser Brienne, and ten of their best swords along with Ghost and Lyarhaex, it would take an army to reach Rhaella and do her harm. Overkill and overprotective it may be, yet Dany cared not. Nor did Aegon, she knew. Neither of them would ever risk their daughter's safety and until the day came when it was as guaranteed as they wished it to be, neither of them would ever take even the remotest chance with the most precious thing in both their worlds.

"Play with Missy, Rhaella, and Rhaex," she said as she kissed her daughter's forehead.

"Papa coming, Mama?"

"Soon, little dragon, very soon," she said as she nodded at Missandei and then moved to head to the city itself.

In less than two hours it was done. Dany and Rhaenys met with the Three Princes of the city. The Harvest Prince, The Fisher Prince, and the Prince of the Streets, their roles ceremonial rather than ruling. They met with the true powers of the city, the Magisters. As with the other cities they'd welcomed into the Empire, the rules were simple. Slavery was to be abolished and while they had time to do so, certain aspects of it were to be done immediately. Coin and goods were to be sent to Westeros and taxes would be paid directly to them each and every year.

Again, as with other cities they'd brought under their rule, there was little or no argument in anything she demanded. They were offered a Manse for their use and the use of the docks for the arrival of the Dornish fleet. Princess Arianne was soon to depart and head back to Dorne and while Dany, Rhaenys, and their army would stay but a day or two, they'd be naming the city their home for a little longer. By midday, the day was done and within two more hours, they were housed in a manse that was surrounded by more than two thousand men. All three dragons rested in the gardens and after they'd eaten their meal that night, it was to them that Dany brought Rhaella.

"Rhaex, Mama," Rhaella said happily as the red dragon trilled to see her rider.

"Soon you and she can fly together, little dragon, for true," Dany whispered as Rhaella stroked Lyarhaex's snout softly.

Holding her daughter in her arms, Dany moved to Drogon and repeated Rhaella's actions, welcoming the trill that came from her son as she too softly stroked his snout. To her surprise, she didn't feel the loss of his brother as much as she feared she might. Instead, Dany found herself thinking about Rhaenys' words and welcoming the thought that Aegon and Rhaegal would join them before they reached Pentos. As she did the memory of the dream she had and the thoughts of a little brother or sister for Rhaella.

Lorath 307 AC.

Arianne.

Seeing Daemon return unharmed was a great relief, as was seeing so many men of Dorne make it through a battle that was almost impossible to comprehend. While Ned Dayne and the men he'd brought with him, when he went to treat with Daenerys Targaryen, had faced the dead before, most of her army had not. Yet they'd kept their nerve and had made Dorne and its princess proud of them all in doing so. Not to mention they'd helped stopped a threat that, had it gone unchecked, would have eventually made Dorne thralls to a monster. Never had this been made clearer to her than when they passed by Norvos.

To see what had once been a vibrant and full city and was now almost bereft of life, was humbling. Even though both Arianne and her mother had been told that the army that Belicho Staegone led was made up mainly of Norvosi. It wasn't until they saw the empty streets and listened to the eyrie quiet of the city itself that it truly hit home. Arianne did her best to comfort her mother and she was most grateful for Areo's help in that regard. Her faithful guard had taken things just as badly as her mother and since he was from Norvos himself, he'd been able to share in her mother's misery somewhat.

There was some life still within the city. Some travelers who'd come by and made themselves a new home there. It would be years, if ever, however, before the city ever was as it once was. While Arianne and her mother spent very little time in the city itself, Daenerys and Rhaenys did not have the luxury of choice in the matter. Things needed to be sorted and a treasury secured. While almost all the wealth of the city was taken from it by the time they left, both her cousin and her queen promised Arianne and her mother that it was but a precautionary thing. In time, they'd see the city well provisioned and they had already sent word to the Sealord to see it garrisoned and made ready for any who wished to name it their home. Her mother would not be among those who'd do so, much to Arianne's joy.

" You truly wish to return with me to Dorne?" she asked, hopefully.

" There is nothing for me here now, Ari. All those I knew or named as my friends are gone and while I could stay and see Norvos rebuilt, I have no wish to. My place is by my daughter's side if she would have me."

" Of course, she would," she said happily, embracing her mother and hugging her tightly.

The closer they got to Lorath, the more Arianne put aside thoughts of battles or loss, and instead her mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of the future. Once they returned to Dorne, she and Daemon would be wed. He'd be her husband and not simply the man she loved. Dorne would from now on be a much larger player in the seven kingdoms than it had been for many a year and she'd have her mother by her side. Just thinking about those things allowed Arianne to put away thoughts of a night without end or dead things that somehow still moved.

Even the brief thoughts that another battle would need to be fought before they could leave Essos behind were ones that were soon put to bed. The Lorathi showed themselves to be far more clever than some had been when it came to facing dragons and the largest army ever assembled. A simple kneeling and swearing of oaths were all it took and before she knew it, Arianne was alone in what was to be her room for the next few days. Or as alone as she ever hoped to be again.

"You seem happier, my love," Daemon said as he moved behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist as Arianne watched the sun go down.

"I am, Daemon. Seeing the sun fall and knowing it's to rise again. Leaving the memories of what we saw and did here, and knowing that soon I'm to be married to the man I love…"

"And soon to be home once more," Daemon said, silencing her first with a kiss and then with his words.

"That too," she said as she turned to face him.

"I wish I could just take you to bed right now and forgo this feast," Daemon said, his desire for her clear in both his eyes and in the swelling in his britches.

"As do I, but some things are best savored are they not?"

"They are," he said biting her ear softly.

Arianne like him wished not to attend the feast they were having this night. Was it not for the fact that on the morrow, Rhaenys and Daenerys would be leaving Lorath behind and heading to Pentos, then she would not. Had she asked it of either of them, she knew she'd have been given leave to not attend, and yet she could or would not do so. She owed much to Daenerys and Aegon Targaryen and while only one of them was here, she'd leave her queen in no doubt that her allegiance wasn't just theirs by right but by choice too.

As for Rhaenys, how long it would be until she saw her cousin again she knew not. Dorne was but a dragon ride away and Rhaenys was now the Lady of Starfall among her many other titles. Arianne, however, would wager it would be where Aegon, Daenerys, and Rhaella went that Rhaenys went too. She'd not begrudge her cousin time with her brother, Goodsister, and niece either. Had her aunt and cousins not lost their minds and her brother his own, then she too may know a brother and good family.

"Ari?" Daemon asked, noticing the frown that appeared on her face at the thoughts of Trystane and Quentyn's loss. One brother she mourned for true while the other would always be lesser in her eyes.

"I was thinking of my cousin and of my brothers."

"Oh, Ari," Daemon said, his arms welcoming and much appreciated as they held her tightly.

The feast turned out to be far more enjoyable than she had expected. Rhaenys spoke to her far more than she had imagined she would. Arianne had to actually tell her cousin it was allowed for her to spend time with her husband too. Even her mother seemed to be in much better spirits and so Arianne stayed far longer than she may have otherwise. Still, she was glad when the night came to an end and even more so for the night to come when she and Daemon arrived back at their rooms.

Waking the next morning, she broke her fast with Daenerys and Rhaenys. It was clear the queen was missing and worrying somewhat about her husband, though given all Aegon had done and shown he could do, Arianne believed that she had no need to. Their morning meal was a languid affair. Time seeing to be almost being willed to stretch on and yet it was still long before noon when Daenerys and Rhaenys were ready to leave the manse and the city behind them. Arianne, her mother, Daemon, and some of the most important lords, as well as those who'd earned glory in the battle of Qohor, all lined up to say their farewells, and Arianne felt her emotions rise when she did so.

"My queen. Dorne and its princess stand ready should you ever call for their aid." Arianne said as Daenerys held her hand as if she were a sister and not her queen.

"We most welcome it, princess. Dorne has proved itself a true ally and its princess is someone I am most happy to name a friend."

"As am I, you, my queen."

Arianne moved to Rhaenys and was quickly embraced by her cousin. Whispered words and promises of a visit to Sunspear, the Water Gardens, and of rides in the desert together were spoken and Arianne felt her heart soar at hearing them. She was soon laughing as the little princess and future empress opened her arms for a hug too and then she, Daemon, and those she'd brought with her to say their farewells, all listened as the queen spoke words of thanks.

"My husband were he here, would no doubt say the words I am about to speak and mayhap even speak them better than me." Daenerys said to some chuckles "We find our true friends on the battlefield and those of us here have fought in a battle like no other. I name the men and women of Dorne as true heroes and heroines and I name you all as my true friends. Faced with a man who wished to conquer death and bring us all to our knees, you stood side by side with us and shouted out loudly.

We are of Dorne, we are Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken. Never forget what you did on the fields of Qohor. For my husband, I, and those you fought with will never forget the courage you showed that day." Daenerys said loudly, her words carrying to each and everyone that was there.

With that, they were gone. In less than an hour, an army still far larger than any assembled other than the one that fought at Qohor or Winterfell had marched away from the city and there wasn't even a sight of the dragons in the sky once they'd done so. Arianne, her mother, Daemon, and Areo made their way back to the Manse and for the next few days, they did little of interest. Lorath had delights to offer and sights to see and yet, Arianne spent her days and nights in the Manse. She read, wrote out plans for Dorne's future trading and other opportunities, and ate simple meals with her mother and Daemon. Her nights were a little more exciting as she and Daemon exhausted themselves with each other. Though her true excitement came with the arrival of the fleet to take them back to Dorne.

They then spent little time in the city once it had done so. In less than a week the ships were fully loaded and as she stood on the deck of her flagship, Arianne watched Lorath fade from view. She wore a true smile when she made her way to her cabin and while she offered up a prayer to whatever gods were listening, she did so with no worry that it would not be answered. Never again would she step foot in Essos and if she had her way, never again would she leave Dorne. Looking at Daemon as he undressed and as she slipped her own dress from her shoulders, Arianne vowed that her days and nights would be spent with her husband by her side. She felt she deserved to know such peace and happiness, after all.

The Battle of King's Landing 307 AC.

Ser Andrew Estermont.

Andrew led the majority of the army. Close to ten thousand men at arms he had under his command while Edric sailed with a little over five thousand. They had feigned going to the North and instead had traveled through the Kingswood with thus far only Houses that were loyal to Edric being who'd see them do so. Try as he might, Andrew could not help but dwell on the last time he'd been involved in an attack on King's Landing. Then it had been him aboard a ship and so he'd been relieved not to have to do so again. He'd almost jumped at the offer of command of these forces just for that reason alone. As the last thing he needed was to be reminded of the Battle of Blackwater Bay and what a disaster that had turned into.

He'd preached caution to his lord this time around. Happy to find that Edric was not Stannis and he listened, somewhat. Even if he did show the pride of the Baratheons when he did so and the foolishness of Stannis a little as he to listened far too much to a red woman. Andrew didn't agree with his lord's choice of wife or see what she brought to their cause other than her name. A name that actually didn't mean as much as it once had, if truth be told. For Sansa Stark brought no allies from the Vale or the Riverlands and while he did believe, as Edric did, that she'd prove her worth somewhat once the battle was done. They still had to win that battle in order for her to do so.

Not that he believed they would not. They had the element of surprise, their plans were sound, and the dragons were far from these shores. Andrew shook the thought from his mind that they would return as he instead allowed himself to believe that by the time they did so, Westeros would welcome them not. He'd even laughed at the worried words that Set Gerald Gower had spoken when he'd brought up that it was Varys and Davos Seaworth that would be in charge of the city. Andrew had made it very clear how little he thought of the Onion Knight in the process.

" Was this a battle at sea then I may concern myself with the Onion Knight, Gerald, but Davos Seaworth is not fighting man," he said dismissively.

" Was no fighting man, Andrew."

" Just because he marched with Jon Snow or by Daenerys Targaryen's side doesn't make him any different from the man who marched with Stannis, Gerald. I saw him on the eve of the Battle of Blackwater Bay, walking the beach and sleeping not."

" As did I, Andrew. Davos not only survived that battle, but he survived whatever it was they faced in the North too. Jon Snow named him Hand for a reason, Andrew, that should give you pause enough. As for Varys, I worry our mummery is not as truly accepted as we believe it to be."

" I worry not," he said shaking his head.

Gerald had shared his concerns with Edric who in turn had spoken them to his new wife. It had been Sansa Stark who spoke the truth of Davos Seaworth's military prowess better than any. The Onion Knight had been sent away from Winterfell just as she had been. He'd played no part in the Battle that had taken place there and while it was true that Jon Snow had named him Hand and Daenerys Targaryen had accepted him as such, it was because her bastard cousin was a fool who placed trust over competence, or so Sansa had said.

They were harsh words spoken and while Andrew didn't agree with all of them, he agreed enough to let his doubts be washed away. Something that this march had only managed to allow even more so. Not once did they face even an outrider or see anyone who could give up their position to their enemies. Unlike during Stannis' attack on King's Landing, they weren't engaged in a long drawn-out war and so no one was expecting them or preparing to defend the city. Setting up camp that night, Andrew found himself keen for the morrow to come. The city was almost in sight and they would reach it by midday. Given what he expected to find when they arrived there, he'd wager it would fall before night did.

He slept a comfortable and dreamless night's sleep. Woke early and broke his fast while japing with his men and they were back on the march, not more than an hour after he'd arisen from his bed. At what point the felt it, he knew not. They were marching through the Kingswood and would soon be in sight of King's Landing and yet something felt off to him. When he heard the sound of the horns, they seemed far too close to be true. The arrows that flew, however, were very much so and Andrew looked on in horror as men fell from their horses and as others came from the trees around them.

"Ride, Ride. Make for open ground!" he shouted as he rode down the lines and dodged arrows and even one or two spears that flew his way.

To his relief, the losses weren't as bad as they could be and his words were listened to. Whoever the men who'd attacked them had been, was something he'd not learn that day, or so he believed. They'd simply melted back into the trees and it had allowed his army to march and ride and be free of them before too long. Soon enough, Andrew found himself wishing he was back among the trees as once again horns rang out and this time it wasn't arrows or archers that they found themselves dealing with. Instead, it was a cavalry charge the like of which he'd never witnessed before.

"Shield Wall! Shield Wall!" the order went up and yet it was a pointless one.

Ahead of him stood an army that dwarfed his own. Yet it wouldn't be numbers that were his downfall on this day. Instead, it would be the sheer mass of men and horses that charged toward them. Knights of the Vale, Men of the West, Andrew looked on in disbelief as Gerold's words came back to haunt him. As he drew his sword and bid his own horse to charge, he did so with but one thought and one thought only in his mind.

' I was always destined to die at the gates of King's Landing'

Ser Morton Waynwood.

When the raven had come from his mother, Morton had set about gathering the men in haste. Not a single one of them not answering the call when he made it. While it should fall to the new Warden to lead the Vale into battle, his mother had been adamant that Harrold was not to do so. Harrold was the last of his line. The last member of House Arryn, even though it was no longer named such. So until he was wedded and had brought forth an heir, Morton knew that his mother wouldn't allow Harrold to risk himself unless there was no other choice.

It was his mother too who had informed them both of how to go about things. Harrold called a meeting in the Eyrie where he named Morton as the commander of the Vale army and bid him answer the crown's call. Morton then spoke words written by his mother before doing as he'd been bid. By the time they reached the Bloody Gate, he'd gathered close to seven thousand men. The ride to King's Landing was one they did in half the time it would normally take. Morton pushed the men, though not to their limit, and they arrived with time to spare.

He was pleased to see that they weren't the only ones to answer the call and while it surprised him that the men of the West had done so, so truly, he more than welcomed it. As he did speaking to Ser Daven Lannister. The man quickly proved himself to be a different Lion than those who'd come before him and one that Morton would already name a friend. Though words spoken by some of the men who rode with him and by Ser Daveth Hersy, in particular, were ones that Morton would soon enough find the truth of.

" We find our true friends on the battlefield. His grace spoke those words to me and those of us who survived the Battle of Winterfell and never have truer words been spoken."

The battle was now upon them and it was one that they were well prepared for. Ser Daven had sent archers to harry the Stormlords as they marched through the Kingswood. An ambush that had but two purposes. Firstly to cause some panic in their ranks and force them to seek to leave the relative safety of being under cover. Secondly, to take down as many important men amongst their ranks as they could possibly do. Morton knew that some may name it as dishonorable and yet neither he nor Daven would be amongst those who would. War was not a place for honor after all and these men marched to sack a peaceful city. So they deserved all that came their way.

"Make ready!" he shouted as the first of the horses and infantry cleared the tress of the Kingswood in front of them. "Hold!" he shouted when one or two of the Western cavalrymen seemed ready to charge, his words stopping them and Morton receiving a nod from Ser Daven who was further down the line to his left.

He waited until enough of the Stormlords had cleared the trees before he steadied his lance in his hands. Once he'd done so, then and only then did he give the order.

"For King Aegon and Queen Daenerys. For Lord Harrold and the Vale! CHARGE!"

There were some sounds that filled you with awe and wonder. Some that brought you nothing but terror and horror. Morton believe that the charge he was now engaged in was one that managed to do both. Among his men and those who rode as their allies today, he would wager they felt the former. Looking at those they charged against, he was under no illusion that they felt anything but the latter of those two things.

From his vantage point, even during his own ride, Morton could see the panicked looks on the faces of those who were trying in vain to form a shield wall. As the horses' hooves thundered over the hard ground beneath them, he lowered his lance and less than a moment later, he felt it hit home. Unlike during a joust, it was not blunted lances they bore and the feel of the strike hitting home was much different because of it. The sharpened metal tip cut through the armor of the man it struck and took his life from him long before he reached the ground.

Steadying his hand once more, Morton soon was repeating the motion over and over. Until the lance struck home so truly that it was lost to him when the man it impaled fell to the ground and took it with him. Reaching behind him to take out his Morningstar, it was with that he then began to fight. Around him, it was pure carnage. The charge had been as successful as they could have ever wished it to be. Their enemies' lines weren't just broken but they were destroyed and this battle was now close to being a rout.

A glance at where the Westerlands men and Ser Daven were, was enough to cost Morton his mount and he cursed his foolishness as he hit the ground hard. Rolling out of the way of a riderless horse as it almost rode over him, Morton rose to his feet and spit out the blood that had pooled in his mouth from the fall. He'd bitten his lip and thankfully that was the extent of his injuries. Taking a moment to survey his surroundings, the true extent of their victory was soon apparent. Morton had fallen in what should be deep behind the Stormlords' lines and yet there was no foe or enemy for him to face.

"Ser Morton." a voice called out from behind him, and Morton turned to see Ser Daveth leading two horses his way.

"I thank you, Ser Daveth, I seem to have lost my mount."

"Ha, be thankful that's all you lost here today." Ser Daveth japed.

"Indeed." he said, smiling back at the man as he took the offered reins "Is it as true a victory as I think?"

"I'd wager so. Come, let's make sure shall we."

"We had better," he said, nodding his head as he and Daveth both mounted the horses.

It took them close to an hour to find Ser Daven and to see those men who'd been taken as prisoners. Other than the few men who'd run and found their way back into the Kingswood, the Stormlords and their men had surrendered once the charge was over. One single charge was all it had taken to break an army of close to ten thousand men. The battle had turned out to be a completely different one than it could have been and Morton could only thank the gods, Lord Davos, and Lord Varys for that.

As he made his way to where Ser Daven stood, the fighting now completely over, he wondered if they would ride to King's Landing and offer their aid there or if this was to be the end of their battle this day. Either way, Morton was more than ready for it. Yet it was thoughts of the words that Ser Daveth had said that he greeted his fellow commander. For he'd name Ser Daven and the men of the West as his true friends now and he'd wager that he was not alone in doing so.

Ser Gerald Gower.

He liked it not. To sail in broad daylight was a fool's errand and while sailing into Blackwater Bay at night was not something he ever wished to do again, he'd have done so rather than this. His words of warning had been dismissed as had his words regarding Davos Seaworth. Edric had never liked the Onion Knight and most of the Stormlords or his fellow knights had looked down on the former smuggler. Gerald was not one of them. For he remembered full well the warnings that Davos had given to Stannis before their failed attempt at taking the city the last time they tried to do so.

While he was not a fighting man, Davos was no craven and he was certainly no fool. Neither was Lord Varys and yet Edric, Andrew, and most especially Sansa Stark all seemed more than happy to name them so. So his warnings went unheeded and as he saw the bay ahead of him, Gerald offered a prayer to the Father to see them be nothing more than unrealized worries and doubts. As he stood on the deck of the Yellow Flower, Gerald looked around at the fleet they had gathered. Though not as large as the one that Stannis had sailed with, they had just as many men and actually had far more traveling by land. Still, he worried that it would not be enough or they were sailing into a trap of sorts. So it was on shaky legs that they finally entered Blackwater Bay.

Gerald tried not to think of that night so many years ago. The blackness of the sky before it was illuminated by that accursed green wildfire and the sounds of the screams as men burned to death. As then, there were few ships in the bay itself and again that gave him pause. Though at least this time there were no fire ships sailing towards them as they made their way deeper into the bay. His eyes turned to where the tower that had held the chain once stood and he was relieved to see that not only did it no longer stand, but no others had been erected in its place. Looking to the docks, he could see nothing untoward, and yet the hairs on his neck were raised all the same.

"We've caught them with their pants down." Martyn his ship's captain said and while the older man was smiling as he spoke the words, it was not a smile that Gerald joined in with.

Instead, he looked on as the first of their ships docked and then the second. Gerald watched as men disembarked and as people ran from the docks and left it empty. To all eyes it looked as it should and yet to his, it seemed nothing more than a mummer's farce. He believed the people moved too swiftly and were far too organized for this to be the panic that it seemed to be. Five ships had docked by now and soon it was to be six. The Stag's Fury, Edric's flagship now docked before it would then head back to anchor in the bay. Even from the distance he was away from the ship, he could see the red hair of Sansa Stark. He wondered if she and Edric were saying their goodbyes. A part of him wondered too if they were to be final goodbyes and for now he fought down the voice that named it so.

Within an hour, the Yellow Flower too had docked and the docks themselves were theirs. In the distance they could see the Red Keep and other than some small skirmishes with Gold Cloaks, they'd not found sight nor heard a sound of those who should be defending this city. Upon joining up with Edric, Gerald listened as his lord and the would-be king spoke of their success as if it was guaranteed. He held his tongue when Edric and others spoke of how their mummery had worked perfectly and then awaited his orders before setting out to secure the city. Again he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise and as they moved through the city, he almost expected it before it occurred.

"AHOOOOOO"

"AHOOOOO"

The sound of the horns rang out and arrows began to rain down upon Gerald and his men. Making for cover, he looked to the roofs and the sight that greeted him was one that proved all his fears to be true. Countless men lined the route they'd taken and Gerald would wager that this was not the only street that was defended this way. In the distance, he swore he heard the sound of hoof beats and he certainly heard the jangle of armor and arms as men marched with purpose. Looking to his men, he was relieved to see that only a few had fallen to the archers and yet that relief was to be very short-lived.

"Ser! Ser! Look!"

Gerald turned and looked on in horror as the cause of the sound of the armor he'd heard earlier was now revealed to him. Closing his eyes, he named himself a fool for not speaking with a louder and truer voice and once he opened them again, he pondered whether it would be a surrender or a fight that he'd give this day. Was it not for the fact that he'd allow no man to name him a craven, then he may very well have decided that the order he'd give would be to lay down their arms. Even knowing the fight was already a lost cause and would cost far too many men their lives for no reward, was not reason enough to stop the order that came from his lips.

"To ARMS! TO ARMS!" he shouted and as he led his men towards the men of the Golden Company, arrows once again rained down upon them from above.

Black Balaq.

He'd picked the men to man the roofs himself. Men that he'd taken over the training of or had picked out of the ranks due to the skill they showed. Once he'd done so, it was then to the routes from the docks that Balaq had turned his attention. To say he'd been pleased was an understatement. Whoever had designed this city had done a piss poor job of it in many regards. For the purpose that he now intended to put it to, however, it may well be perfect.

The streets were narrow and the buildings on either side of them were tall. Standing upon the roofs of those buildings, you could see everything that happened below and better yet, hit anything you aimed at with an arrow. Providing you were a decent archer that was. Better than any of that, you could easily move about atop the rooftops. With some simple laying down of wooden boards to act as bridges of sorts, Balaq had full access to each and every street that ran from the docks to the city itself. So, the night before the battle commenced, he'd seen those bridges put in place and had even run the shortest route himself. A route he knew by heart now.

It had been something he'd taken full advantage of, both before and during the battle. Ordering the men to hold until the signal was given, Balaq had waited until the ships were unloaded and the men had moved far enough so they could not simply turn and race back to the ships. He'd wished those ships to be set ablaze once the men had landed only for the Hand of the King to deny him leave to do so.

" We'll need those ships in the future and they'll be the basis of a new royal fleet, so no, I'll not see them burned if it can be helped," Davos said.

" As you command, Lord Hand."

Balaq disagreed and yet did not. While it would make their task much easier and would end this war today rather than risk it being a much longer one, it would force a truer fight mayhap. Men with no place to retreat to would often fight to the bitter end. Even knowing a retreat was impossible due to the forces you faced was something different than knowing it was a forlorn hope right from the start. So despite his own wishes, Balaq deferred to those who were more in charge than he. He'd no wish to get on the wrong side of the dragons, after all.

With his hand raised, he ordered more arrows to be fired and looked to where he knew Lysono would be. Once he saw his former fellow Serjeant, Balaq gave his orders and began to move across the bridges. He saw some men try to force open the doors of buildings and seek cover there and he smiled when he saw their attempts fail. They'd blocked up all the doors and windows and while some may find a little respite and force their way in, it would be but a temporary thing.

It took him but a few moments to reach his destination and he looked down to see that these were indeed the men being led by the fool of Stag himself. The men he'd left on the roof had done their job well and they'd stopped them from moving forward while not truly taking too many from their ranks. A mummery amidst a mummery was what Balaq had bid them to accomplish and they'd done exactly as he'd asked. Now as Lysono led his men forward and the Stag did his best to form up his lines, it was time to bleed them for true.

"Take down as many as you can. Protect our men," he said as his former comrades from the Golden Company and men who'd taken service with him, Lysono, or who had earned keeps of their own, all now brought the fight to a Stag who wished to be king.

Arrows rained down and this time they hit home for true. One even managed to hit the shield held by the Stag. Balaq looked on as men who fought for a living faced off against men who very much did not. Fierce and proud the men of the Storm may be, but they were not true soldiers and the proof was clear for all to see. Lysono and he had fought in cities and outside them. They'd fought on open fields and in places that were very much not. These men of the Storm were no match and so soon enough, men began to throw down their weapons and surrender.

"Fire only to save our men," he ordered as he left that rooftop and moved to another. The fight was all but done and it was one worthy of tale. Though he doubted very much it would be a tale spoken fondly in the Stormlands.

Varys.

The Red Keep was as protected as it could be. Davos had refused to move elsewhere and so the gates were locked, the number of guards increased, and the tunnels readied just in case. Not that Varys believed that they could lose the battle. He held no fear of that, but he'd not be caught out again. Had he done the same years earlier then a princess and her son would not have faced such terrible ends. As for the rest of the Small Council, while Lady Anya and others may have wished to do as Davos did, in this, he had more success. They'd been moved to Rosby and would await there until one of his little birds told them differently.

Varys had pretty much ensured that most of his little birds were far from where any of the fighting would go down. Only those he needed to bring him news of the battle would be out and about this day and even they would be far from where a true fight took place. The systems he'd put in place would see to that. Now as he read the first of the songs that were sung, Varys found himself thinking back to another attempt to take this city. Thankfully it was not one that cost a king his life or tore a family from the Iron Throne, but instead, it was one that too involved a Stag who wished to be king.

Then it had been Tyrion Lannister that he'd sought comfort and aid from. Today, it was Davos Seaworth and as he read the songs, he found he much preferred things this time around. He may have named Tyrion a friend once, but the truth about him had been revealed and it had not been a pleasant one. Varys had no doubts that the truth of Davos Seaworth was not a hidden thing and the man was simply as he appeared to be. It was a comforting thought as he read about the ships being allowed to dock and as a battle for the city and the Iron Thorne began anew.

"Thank you. Go and be safe," he said as another of his little birds popped their head into his room and handed him yet another song.

This time the words needed to be shared and so he rose to his feet and made his way to where he believed Davos Seaworth would be. Varys quickly found the man atop the parapets of the Red Keep itself, looking down at the city below and the docks in particular. Though they could see little from here, the sounds of the battle that was taking place and the sight of the arrows being fired from the rooftops were clear enough. Placing a hand on the man's shoulder, he was greeted by a worried frown and hoped the words he spoke were enough to remove it. In the end, while they did somewhat, it was what they both saw and heard that truly did so.

"The Battle of the Kingswood is over, Davos. Ser Daven and Ser Morton have been victorious."

"For true?"

"For true. They ride to add their forces to our own should they be needed," he said to a relieved look from the Hand of the King.

Just as he was about to say more, another of his little birds arrived and Varys almost tittered at the fact they'd found him here. Yet, it was the sound of the roar and the happy laugh that came from Davos Seaworth that he at first concentrated on. Afterward, it was the sight of the green dragon as it flew over the bay and towards them. Its flames were being let loose at something or other beneath it.

"I should have bloody expected it," Davos said jovially.

"You should?" he asked.

"Aye. He'd never let us face a fight alone." Davos said as both he and then the Hand of the King turned to make ready to greet a king.

Edric Baratheon.

Edric ran. He ran in any direction he could as long as it was away from the fight. Though he'd never believed himself to be a craven and even now would refuse to name himself so, acting one was in his best interest. The fight was over, he'd lost and his dreams of being a king were now no more. Even should he manage to escape this city and make it back to Storm's End, he would wager he'd find no sanctuary there. Not with the dragon seeking him out and seek him out it would. That much was more than clear.

He should have paid more attention to Ser Gerald's worries and concerns. Listened to what was being said to him and at the very least, kept it in mind. Instead, he got so caught up in the thoughts of the easy victory that was sure to be his, that he ignored all the warning signs. No ships to slow their progress through Blackwater Bay. A lack of any resistance when they landed and even the small force that came against them had all been but mummeries. The truth of the matter was that they'd lured Edric and his army in and once they had them where they wished, then and only then did they attack.

As he ran through the city and heard the sounds of the fighting behind him, Edric tried to focus on anything positive. He had at first believed that if he could get out of the city and to the rest of his army, he'd be able to regroup and attack with a much larger force . Surely they didn't have the men to stop both sides of his army, he hoped. Edric had ignored the small voice within himself which said that if they were this prepared for them inside the city, then they would be even more so outside of it. Then he'd heard and seen the green dragon and it had mattered not.

"He'll burn us all," he said under his breath as he stopped to look behind him and to catch his breath.

Sansa had told him what Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen had done to the army led by Malaquo Maegyr. How the dragons had decimated a force that was twenty thousand strong and while there it had been all three dragons, Edric was under no illusion that one wouldn't be just as effective. Hearing the sound of men running towards him, Edric looked back and was soon racing for his life once more. They were not his own men and he was alone in this city now. He had considered trying to make it to the docks and his ship and then meet up with his wife but had quickly dismissed the thought. Ships burn far too easily and the only thing that would stop the dragon from loosing its flames upon him was the cover the city provided.

' What am I to do once that cover is gone.' he asked himself and found no answer.

Dodging down another side street, Edric tried not to think of how quickly it had all gone wrong. They had marched through the empty streets. Then there were arrows fired at them from the rooftops, and they had made vain attempts to reach the archers. All of that had just been a prelude and it was the men of the Golden Company who'd truly put his own men to the sword. Men against boys it had been and he realized that in truth he was but a boy still.

He should have been content and remained happy with his lot. Edric should have accepted that he was Lord of the Stormlands and sought out a bride that brought him far more than Sansa Stark did. Yet just like his father before him, he'd wished for a Stark bride, and while at first, the reasons had been different, Edric wouldn't lie and say he did not feel something for Sansa Stark once he'd met her. After that, he'd gotten swept up in a song. A tale to be told for years to come, or so he'd thought.

'At least in that, I'll get my wish.' Edric thought bitterly.

"STOP IN THE NAME OF THE KING!" the loud voice called out and it took him out of his pondering as Edric looked to see the man wearing the gold cloak of the City Watch come his way.

Looking around and finding himself thankful that it was but the one man in his way, Edric drew his sword and readied himself for the fight.

At one point he'd wished to wield a hammer like his father. In truth, he was not equipped to do so and so it had been the sword for a true fight and a hammer for show that Edric wielded. Thanking the gods that it was the sword he still bore, he readied for the strike his opponent aimed at him. It quickly came and he dodged it easily. As he did the next one. Edric allowed one more strike and then began to reply. Very soon it became apparent that he was far more skilled than the man he faced and after no more than a moment or two, his sword struck home. The wound was not a mortal one and so Edric moved forward to take the man's life, only for the shouts to stop him from doing so.

"There he is!"

"Stop him!"

A glance back behind him showed him the true peril of his predicament and so once again, Edric began to run. To his great relief, he managed to lose the men and soon found himself in sight of the King's Gate. He tried not to let his mind dwell on the fact that he'd run no more than a few streets from where he'd started. It had felt as if he'd been running for hours when in truth, it was mayhap no more than one. Instead, he simply concentrated on the fact that he finally had a chance to escape and to be free of the seven hells that this city had turned into, for him and his army at least.

Moving more slowly than he had done up to then, Edric crept towards the gate. He looked to the walls above it and found to his amazement there were no guards in sight. As for the ones on the ground, they were looking not to where Edric moved from but much further down the street where the battle was near or at its end. Steadying himself, Edric walked to the gate and then out through it unchallenged. No sooner had he done so than the gate closed behind him and he looked to see a man bearing a white cloak and another with hair as red as his wife's own.

It took him a moment to recognize both men. Not simply because he had not expected them to be here, but because of the green dragon and the man who stood beside it who were now in his way. Jon Snow had somehow expected him and had simply lain in wait. With him, he'd brought Jaime Lannister and the Wildling he was so close to, and while they and a group of guards that Edric now saw moving to join them, blocked his way back into the city, a dragon and a king blocked his way away from it. Glancing over Jon Snow's shoulder, Edric almost expected to see the rivers of the Trident and he had no doubt that he would not be offered a chance to yield or surrender. It was to be a fight between a Dragon and a Stag once more that would decide the fate of Westeros and as odds go, it was far better than those he'd so far faced this day.

"If I make it past you?" he asked.

"Then you are free to go where you please. Though I'd wager my wife would seek you out eventually." Jon Snow replied.

"You'll accept no surrender?" he asked, though he knew full well the answer he was to receive.

"Would you have accepted mine own? Or did you and your wife not seek the deaths of me and my family once you sat on the Iron Throne?"

"We would have, yes."

"Then no, you die today, Edric Storm. You and House Baratheon both end and the only thing I'll offer you is a quick and clean death."

Sighing, Edric moved forward and he looked on as Blackfyre was unsheathed. The green dragon lay down its head and looked almost disinterestedly at him. While behind him, not a single man seemed concerned for their king. It took barely two clashes of the swords to show him why that was. Edric had sparred against Jon Snow and had been taught a most painful lesson. He'd thought that he'd seen the truth of him that day, the full extent of his skill. So he'd put more work in the yard at Storm's End and had improved greatly, or so he believed.

The truth of the matter was very much different. While he may have improved some, the lesson that Jon Snow had wished to teach him that day was merely that. Today he sought his life and on the third clash of the swords, Edric was caught across the shoulder. He barely had the time to raise his sword to block the next strike and on the next one, he lost both his sword and his life. Jon Snow moved inside his guard, he took his sword from his hand with the hilt of Blackfyre and Edric cried out in pain when he felt the sharp Valyrian steel pierce him under his arm. His blue eyes looked into the purple ones of the man who had ended his life and he saw no pity, no remorse, and some hatred there. Falling to the ground, Edric gasped and spat out the blood that had pooled into his mouth.

"My sister and you were both fools, Edric. The world will be a much better place without either of you in it." Jon Snow said as he moved behind him and Edric felt the sword pierce his shoulder and go through his body before he then felt no more.

Sansa Baratheon.

She stood on the deck of the Stag's Fury. They were anchored in Blackwater Bay and she'd kissed her husband and even tied a favor to his arm before they'd parted. As she had when the ship had sailed back into the bay, Sansa now looked to the city and the streets as well as the Red Keep that loomed large over it all. Thus far things had gone even better than they had planned. Their mummery had worked and they'd caught the city unawares and Sansa was certain that it was only a matter of time before she and Edric were reunited and named the Red Keep their home.

So certain was she of this, that in her mind Sansa had already begun to make changes both to the furnishing and to how their rule would be different than her bastard cousin and his Dragonwhore of a wife's. She had begun to ponder even more on the changes she'd make to the realm too. Edmure, Anya Waynwood, and Arya, all of them would need to pay for their betrayals. Sansa now found she was torn between making them do so quickly or firming up their reign first.

Would she make them kneel before her and swear their fealty?

Allow them to believe that was enough?

Give them time to think they'd won back the favor they'd lost with her?

Would it be better to remove them quickly or more satisfying to allow them to ponder upon their fate?

The truth of the matter was she knew not. The part of her that felt wronged almost demanded it be righted as soon as they took their throne. While the other part of her, the part which understood how the world truly worked, wondered if it would be best to deal with the true threat first. In the end, she had almost resolved that it would be that course of action she'd follow and was just doing so when the ship's captain came her way.

"The fight has begun, my lady." the captain said as he handed her the Myrish Eye.

Taking the Myrish Eye, Sansa pointed it in the direction of the docks and was soon smiling as she watched the Gold Cloaks being easily beaten by her and Edric's men. All too soon it was over and the army had begun to move into the city itself, meaning that she could no longer see them from her vantage point. With little to look at, Sansa handed the Myrish Eye back to the captain and made her way to her and Edric's cabin.

The next hour was spent looking through her chests and making sure the clothing she wished to wear once the city was taken had not been damaged in the traveling. Her husband had been most generous and for the first time, in far too long, Sansa once again had a wardrobe worthy of a queen. In time, she'd expand it even more and add much more jewellery to her attire as well. For now, they had limited funds and so in that regard, her chest was lacking.

Time spent waiting was boring, Sansa soon found and after one more visit to the deck, she decided to have her meal and even allowed herself a glass or two of wine with it as she awaited the good news. Even after she had finished her meal, however, the news was slow to appear and so once again, it was to the deck that she found herself walking. No sooner had she reached it than she wished she had not. While she couldn't see the fighting that must still be taking place, the sight she could see was one that sent a bolt of fear straight to her heart. So much so, that she almost collapsed on the deck and barely heard the captain order the anchor to be lifted and the ship to set sail.

"Captain?"

"We must find safe harbor, my lady, we must." the captain replied and Sansa nodded as she looked at the ever-growing shape of what could only be a dragon that now flew towards them.

There was no need for her to see the green scales to know which dragon it was. Nor to take the Myrish Eye and look through it to see who rode upon it. As he had ever since he'd come back from the dead, Jon Snow was here to deny her what was hers by right. With a glance to the docks, she found few worries for her husband and far too many for herself. Unable to move from the spot she stood upon, Sansa instead, simply looked on as the dragon drew ever closer.

To her relief, the ship had begun to move and yet that relief was to be short-lived. The sight of the banner that stood so proudly atop the mast was now one that sent Sansa into a panic. A black crowned stag on a yellow field would name the ship as what it was and while she'd thought that to be a good thing, she now was certain it was very much not.

"Remove the Banner! Remove the Banner!" she shouted out as the dragon finally flew overhead.

At first, Sansa believed that somehow they'd not been seen. That Jon was instead concentrated far more on what was happening inside and outside of the city than on the ship she sailed upon. She almost laughed manically in her relief only for the sound that came from her to be instead, one of great pain.

She'd not even seen the dragon let loose its flames. So when she looked down upon her yellow and black dress and saw it burn, it made no sense to her. Only when she felt her flesh as it too began to burn did she realize that far from missing them as it flew over, the dragon had done exactly as it had wished to do. Running as fast as she could, the pain growing unbearable, Sansa jumped over the rail of the ship and crashed hard into the water below.

The fire she'd been engulfed in but a moment earlier had been distinguished and while the ship burned and would sail no more, she had somehow survived. Though that survival had come at great cost and as she looked at her hand and arm, she cried out in horror. Where once there had been skin as pristine as porcelain, now there was anything but. As she floated in the water, she brought her unburned hand to her face and felt one side of it to be untouched by the flames that she'd been caught up in. With great trepidation, she moved her hand to the other side of her face, and then she knew only darkness.

Days later.

"It's time." the voice said to her and Sansa squinted in the darkness and looked to see a shape lit up by the light behind it, a shape that looked familiar to her.

"Jon?" she asked, worriedly.

"Aye. It's time for you to pay for all you've done, Sansa."

Kings Landing 307 AC.

Aegon Targaryen.

He'd wished to fly alone and yet by the end he'd given in to his wife's and his sister's wishes. So together with Tormund and Jaime Lannister, Aegon had mounted Rhaegal and headed for Westeros. They'd rested when they had no other choice but to do so and had talked little on the journey. There were no words for him to express what it was he was feeling and he was glad that neither Tormund nor Jaime had needed them.

He hated her for making him do this and for leaving his family behind while he did so. Hated himself a little for not simply taking her from the world when he'd had the chance. The thoughts that she'd learn a little semblance of what it was he'd gone through had been what he'd let guide him and he'd been a fool to believe that. Sansa had lost any sense she had and had learned all she ever would. This time, he'd promised himself that he'd make no such errors of judgment.

It wasn't until they reached the outskirts of Pentos that Aegon felt the need to speak about what it was they would face. The night before they flew across the Narrow Sea allowing him or forcing him to do so. Even now here today, he could well remember the words he'd spoken and he wondered if they'd ever leave him.

Pentos/King's Landing, a few days earlier.

Tormund set up the fire and Jaime watched his back, even though there was no need for him to do so. Aegon spoke softly to Rhaegal about the fight to come and how it would be much different than the others they'd faced. If Lady Malora was right and Aegon had no doubt she was, then he'd not truly be needed in the fight to come. Most of it, if not all, would be over long before they reached King's Landing. It would just be the aftermath that he'd be needed for and even that, not truly.

Bidding Rhaegal to rest, Aegon turned and walked to the fire. He accepted the plate of food that Tormund offered him and bid Jaime to sit and eat with them. Even though it was just the three of them, Jaime at times still took his duties far too seriously. They were in no danger here, nor would they be in any in King's Landing, at least not physically. Emotionally, mentally, well they were different matters altogether.

"Eat, King Crow," Tormund said and Aegon tried to comply, though it was a wasted effort.

"I've no appetite, Tormund. Knowing what I must do, I've no appetite." he sighed.

"She brought it on herself, your grace," Jaime said, sympathetically.

"Aye, she did, King Crow," Tormund added.

"She was my sister once. Aye, never as much so as Arya was, but my sister all the same. When we were but boys, Robb and I would act her guards and think ourselves as knights of the realm." Aegon began "The North may not truly care for such things, other than a few places. But we were boys and we'd read of the men of the Kingsguard." he said looking to Jaime "Of Ryam Redwyne and Aemon the Dragonknight. The Bold and the Sword of the Morning or Duncan the Tall. We dreamt of being known as they were, and for me even later the thoughts of earning a name such as those were something I held to deeply."

"Your own name is well known, King Crow," Tormund said with a chuckle.

"At the Wall, when I heard of what happened with my uncle, my brother. A part of me wished to rescue my sister and aye, had it been Arya still held in King's Landing then I may have even tried, foolish as that may have been." Aegon said, ignoring Tormund's jape "I felt guilty about that when Sansa arrived beaten and battered, raped and worse. I thought I found my purpose with her and I'll not lie and say that I thought her a true sister when we marched to Winterfell."

"She proved herself not to be, your grace," Jaime said and Aegon nodded.

"I thought I wished her to suffer as I had suffered and so that's why I spared her life after her trial. In truth, I couldn't bring myself to take her life." he said, almost as if he had just realized it "Now, I know I'm to take it and all I can think… is that she was my sister once." Aegon said rising to his feet.

They flew the next day and he'd felt his resolve strengthen. When they arrived at Blackwater Bay, he'd looked down and seen the ship and he knew she was aboard. Resolving himself to do as he must, allowing Rhaegal's own feelings to guide him, Aegon closed his eyes and they flew over the ship. Opening them as soon as they got there, he swore he could see her red hair as she stood upon the deck of the ship and it stopped him not.

"Dracarys," he said firmly and Rhaegal answered immediately.

From there it was to the docks and then the city. Rhaegal let out roars to announce their arrival. Looking down from atop the green dragon's back, Aegon could see the fight was already won, just as Lady Malora had said it would be. So he bid Rhaegal to fly to the Red Keep and landed in the Godswood. No sooner had they dismounted than they were joined by Davos and Varys and Aegon welcomed the former with a hug and the other with an offered hand.

"Your grace, all is well?" Davos asked.

"Aye, Davos. The fight in the city is almost done."

"Outside the city too, your grace," Varys said and Aegon nodded.

"Davos, I need ships sent to the burning wreck of Edric Storm's flagship, tell them to seek out any survivors."

"At once, your grace," Davos said as he ran off to do as Aegon had bid him to.

"Lord Baratheon, your grace?" Varys asked.

"Will be dealt with presently. We'll speak when it's done, Lord Varys. You have my thanks for all you've done thus far."

"It's my honor to serve you and her grace, your grace."

"And ours to have you do so," he replied.

With a nod to Jaime and Tormund, they moved back to Rhaegal and were soon in the air once more. They landed outside the city and once Jaime had done what he needed and Tormund had joined him, Aegon waited. It was not a long wait and yet it was far longer than the fight that came once Edric arrived. He took no pleasure in ending the man's life, far from it. Nor did he in seeing her when she was carried into the Red Keep. Her burns were extensive and while for the briefest moment, the thought of letting her live with them entered his mind, he dismissed it very quickly.

She had to die, there was no other choice. The mere fact that she had been his sister once made no difference to that. So he bid her looked after and sent her to a dark room to spare her the sight of herself before she met her end.

Now.

It was private, that was the only accommodation he'd allowed her. Not because she deserved it but simply so she'd not be tortured more than she needed to be. He could have let more people see what she now looked like. Aegon knew how much that would hurt her and yet, taking her life was enough and so he did not. Instead, it was the members of the Small Council and the leaders of the men who'd fought for this city that would bear witness to her death.

Aegon had gone to her cell himself and he'd been the one who'd led her to the block. He'd not be the one to take her head, however. Varys, Tormund, Jaime, and Davos most of all had all spoken to him and told him that he could and should not be the one to kill her. That as much as he may believe that the man who passed the sentence should swing the sword, in this case, he very much shouldn't. once he'd agreed with them, it had then led to far too many people offering to do so. Tormund, Jaime, Ser Daven Lannister, and Morton Waynwood. Had Jon Connington been here then he'd no doubt have offered and so Lysono Marr did so in his stead. In the end, it could be only one man, and Aegon knew he was both reluctant to swing the sword and yet would do so anyway. Which was only part of the reason why he chose him.

She had been his sister once, just as Davos had been somewhat of a father to him since they'd known each other. One of them had been far better at it than the other and so it was to him that Aegon looked.

"Aegon, Aegon, Please….Please." Sansa cried out as Jaime and Tormund held her arms and bid her head to bow "PLEASSEEEEE, DON'T DO THIS."

"Sansa Stark, you have been found guilty of treason against their graces Queen Daenerys and King Aegon Targaryen and sentenced to death. Do you have any last words before your sentence is carried out?

"BROTHER! BROTHER PLEASE!" Sansa shouted out as Aegon looked at Davos and nodded.

Blackfyre was raised in the air and around him, Aegon could hear nothing at all. Looking at the half-burned face of Sansa and to where now only a few strands of red hair remained, he could barely recognize her as who she was. Briefly, he saw who she had once been and the little girl who loved lemon cakes and who'd been the apple of her mother's eye was there once again. A blink of his eyes later and the sword was swinging downward and then a flash of red was all Aegon saw as Sansa lost her head.

Turning to walk away, knowing full well that his orders regarding her body would be adhered to completely, Aegon wiped the lone tear that fell from his eye.

"She was my sister once," he said softly as he entered the Red Keep.