38 Chapter 36 - Fire And Blood

277 AC

Arthur PovThe air was thick with an icy chill, the moon casting haunting shadows that danced across the room. My fingers clenched Dawn, its familiar weight offering a feeble comfort against the creeping dread.

The faint echoes of steel clashing reverberated through the silence before abruptly ceasing, signaling an ominous stillness. With a heavy breath, I approached the door, my heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and fear.As the door creaked open, a scene of horror unfolded before me.

The lifeless bodies of my comrades lay strewn across the floor, their blood staining the ground in a grotesque scene of violence and despair. But it was the sight of Rhaegar, lying motionless amidst the carnage, that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Rhaegar!" My voice cracked with anguish as I rushed to his side, dropping Dawn with a clatter.I cradled his head in my hands, desperate to staunch the flow of blood that seeped from his wounds, but it was a futile effort. His once vibrant eyes were now glazed with pain, his breaths shallow and labored.

"Arthur... is that you?" His voice was barely a whisper, barely recognizable amidst the agony."Yes, Rhaegar, it's me," I choked out, my voice thick with sorrow."I'll save you, my friend," I promised, my hands trembling as I struggled to hold back tears.But as I looked into his fading gaze, I saw only accusation, only betrayal.

"You left me... alone..." His words were a dagger to my heart, each syllable laced with accusation."No, Rhaegar, no..." I pleaded, but my words fell on deaf ears as his hand, slick with blood, reached out to touch my face."You failed me..." His voice trailed off, a final, damning verdict before the light faded from his eyes, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

With a guttural cry, I jolted awake, my body drenched in a cold sweat, my shoulder throbbing with phantom pain. I stared into the darkness, my mind haunted by the echoes of Rhaegar's accusation, the weight of my failure crushing me like a vice."Another nightmare," I whispered, the words bitter on my tongue as I pressed a trembling hand to my forehead.

"Fuck," I muttered, the single word a futile attempt to encapsulate the overwhelming despair that consumed me.I rose from my bed with the weight of exhaustion clinging to my limbs, the remnants of the same haunting nightmare replaying in my mind like a relentless specter.

Since that cursed day in Duskendale, the images had been etched into my consciousness, refusing to fade with time.Carefully, I made my way to the washbasin, splashing cold water onto my face in an attempt to banish the lingering traces of sleep. My body still bore the lingering scars of my escape from Duskendale, reminders of the harrowing ordeal I had endured.

Exiting my chambers, I ventured towards the grand hall of Castle Stokeworth. There, I was greeted by Lady Tanda Stokeworth, the matriarch of the house, accompanied by her two daughters, Lady Falyse and Lady Tanda.

"How are your wounds faring, Ser Arthur?" Lady Tanda inquired with genuine concern etched upon her features."They have improved since my arrival here," I replied, offering a faint smile of gratitude.

We settled at the table as servants brought forth the meal, the clinking of utensils a dull backdrop to the conversation that ensued.As we finished our food, Lady Falyse interjected with news that sparked a surge of anticipation within me.

"Ser Arthur, we've received a raven from Prince Daemon," she announced, her words drawing my full attention."He is set to arrive at Stokeworth by evening," she continued, her tone tinged with excitement.

My pulse quickened at the mention of the prince's name, a flurry of questions bubbling to the surface."Did he mention the size of his accompanying force, my lady?" I inquired, my mind racing with the implications of his imminent arrival."

All he said was to prepare our men to march tomorrow to Duskendale, and that he eagerly awaits your meeting," Lady Tanda replied, her voice steady with resolve."Very well, my lady," I replied, a sense of purpose coursing through me at the prospect of confronting Prince Daemon.

I then left the hall and made my way to my chamber, where I quickly donned my armor. A servant aided me in securing the pieces, their hands moving with practiced efficiency. Once fully clad, I proceeded to the training yard, where the knights and men-at-arms of House Stokeworth honed their skills.

As I entered the yard, the sounds of clashing blades gradually ceased, all eyes turning towards me with a mixture of respect and curiosity. Without hesitation, I approached the rack of blunted swords used for sparring.

"Who among you wishes to test their mettle against me?" I called out, the challenge hanging in the air.After a brief murmuring amongst the men, an older knight stepped forward, his weathered face etched with determination."Let me be the one to test your skill, Sword of the Morning," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of experience.We engaged in a spirited bout, the clatter of our blades echoing through the yard.

Despite his prowess, he could not withstand the ferocity of my assault, and one by one, others stepped up to face me, each meeting the same fate.Though victorious in the training yard, the memories of Duskendale continued to gnaw at my conscience. With a heavy heart,

I departed from the yard, the weight of my past bearing down upon me like a leaden cloak.As I approached my chamber, the hushed tones of two servants caught my attention."It's a tragedy that the prince was captured," one of them lamented."Who would have thought Lord Dralyn capable of such madness?" another questioned, disbelief evident in her voice."The prince's folly knows no bounds.

I heard his younger brother warned him against taking just seven knights to Duskendale, but he refused to heed his counsel," she continued, a note of bitterness coloring her words."And now, it falls upon the younger prince to rectify the mistakes of his elder," she concluded with a sigh.I stood in silence, a knot forming in my stomach as I listened to their conversation. The weight of regret hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the consequences of our actions.I stood atop the battlements of Castle Stokeworth, anticipation coursing through my veins as I watched Prince Daemon's long-awaited arrival alongside his retinue.

My gaze swept across the vast expanse of men gathered below, banners of various noble houses fluttering in the breeze. House Rosby, House Hayford, and several minor houses of the Crownlands were among them, their colors blending into a tapestry of loyalty and allegiance.Yet, it was the sight of the Targaryen banner that drew my attention most sharply. Instead of the familiar three-headed dragon upon a field of black, there flew a single golden dragon emblazoned upon a background of deepest ebony.

It was a stark departure from tradition, one that piqued my curiosity and stirred a sense of unease within me.Prince Daemon's personal coat of arms bore an eerie resemblance to that of Aegon II Targaryen, a detail not lost on those who observed with keen eyes.Amidst the sea of knights and men-at-arms, I noticed a contingent of camp followers, among them a curious assortment of musicians.

Their presence puzzled me, their purpose unclearDescending from the battlements, I watched with a mixture of awe and apprehension as Prince Daemon rode towards the castle, his presence commanding attention amidst the throng of men settling on the grounds outside.

As I approached the gates, I was greeted by the sight of House Stokeworth's members assembled to welcome the prince, Lady Tanda at their forefront, a picture of regal poise and grace.Prince Daemon, astride a magnificent black destrier, was flanked by the two knights of the Kingsguard, their solemnity contrasting sharply with the swagger of Oberyn Martell, who rode alongside them.

The other lords of his retinue followed suit, their horses stamping restlessly as they dismounted, the air thick with anticipation.I couldn't help but notice the ten knights adorned in armor bearing the personal sigil of Prince Daemon, their golden hues gleaming in the sunlight.

But it was the prince himself who truly captured my attention as he shed his helm, revealing a countenance both striking and regal.Clad in a suit of armor engraved with intricate dragon scales and adorned with golden gems fashioned into the shape of a dragon, Prince Daemon cut an imposing figure.

His sword hung at his waist, a silent testament to his martial prowess, while his helm, fashioned in the likeness of a dragon with wings spread wide, spoke of his Targaryen lineage.His hair, a mixture of gold and silver, lent him an air of otherworldly beauty but not as much as Rhaegar.

Then his gaze shifted to me, and I felt the weight of his piercing emerald-green and purple eyes, sparkling with amusement as a smirk played upon his lips.Lady Tanda extended the customary offering of bread and salt, which Prince Daemon accepted with a gracious nod. "Stokeworth truly lives up to its beauty," he remarked, his words laced with charm as he glanced around the courtyard.

Lady Tanda beamed with pride at his compliment, her gaze lingering on the assembled Crownlands lords."And who might this beauty be?" Prince Daemon inquired, his attention turning to Lady Falyse."I am Lady Falyse Stokeworth, heir to House Stokeworth," she replied, a blush creeping into her cheeks as the prince bent to kiss her knuckles, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

It was evident that Lady Falyse was enraptured by his charisma, despite being two years his senior.With the formalities observed, the other lords were offered bread and salt, and Prince Daemon approached me."Ser Arthur, happy to see you still breathing," he greeted me with a sardonic smile."I must say, I was relieved to learn of your survival.

Imagine how devastated Ashara would be if something were to happen to her dear brother,. Although I pity for the rest of your companions" he remarked, his tone dripping with mock sympathy.His words struck a nerve, and I clenched my fists in frustration, struggling to maintain my composure in the face of his thinly veiled taunts.

"Well, I, for one, am tired of the journey, Lady Tanda," he declared, shifting his attention back to the Lady of Stokeworth."We have prepared a feast for you, Prince Daemon," Lady Tanda announced graciously. "My daughter will escort you to your quarters where you can rest," she added."That would be lovely, my lady," Prince Daemon replied, turning his attention back to Lady Falyse.

With a final nod in my direction, he departed, his parting words lingering in the air like a bitter aftertaste."See you at the feast, Arthur," he called over his shoulder, his tone laced with a subtle mockery that left a sour taste in my mouth.

 -----

The feast was in full swing, the jovial atmosphere marred only by the weight of unspoken worries and the lingering shadow of Duskendale's grim events. As wine flowed freely and nobles danced and feasted, it seemed as though they had all collectively pushed aside the reason for their gathering.

Meanwhile, Rhaegar remained trapped in the dark cells of Duskendale, his fate hanging in the balance while his brother and the nobility indulged themselves.Amidst the revelry, I was approached by Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard, their expressions grave with concern."Ser Arthur," Ser Barristan addressed me, his voice tinged with urgency.

"Could you tell us what happened in Duskendale?" he inquired, his eyes searching mine for answers.I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I recounted the harrowing tale of what happened in Duskendale. Their knuckles turned white with tension as I described the treacherous events, especially when I spoke of the tragic fate that befell their fellow brother of the Kingsguard, Ser Gwayne Gaunt.

"We will avenge the ones who passed away, Ser Arthur, and ensure the safety of the crown prince as well," Ser Barristan vowed solemnly, his words carrying the weight of his unwavering dedication to duty. I nodded in agreement, grateful for their steadfast resolve in the face of adversity.

I observed the dance floor, my gaze inevitably drawn to Prince Daemon. Clad in a sleek black doublet emblazoned with the golden dragon sigil, his hair cascaded freely over his shoulders as he moved with effortless grace.

He was paired with Lady Falyse, resplendent in a gown of verdant green that accentuated her delicate features.As they danced, I couldn't help but notice the intimate closeness between them. Prince Daemon's hand roamed boldly, tracing the curves of Lady Falyse's form with an unapologetic sensuality.

With each subtle caress, she responded with a soft sigh, her eyes alight with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.My blood simmered with indignation as I witnessed his brazen disregard for propriety, his focus seemingly consumed by the allure of the moment rather than the weight of his brother's peril.

It was as if he existed in a realm untouched by the gravity of their situation, his only concern the pursuit of pleasure.Eventually, their dance came to an end, and Prince Daemon leaned in to whisper something into Lady Falyse's ear. With a coy smile, she departed from the hall, leaving him to cast a knowing glance in my direction, a smirk playing upon his lips.He approached the table with an air of casual confidence, taking a leisurely sip of water before turning his attention towards me.

"Ser Arthur, you seem to be in quite a temper. Must be the heat getting to you. Let's go for a walk, shall we?" His voice carried a hint of mock concern, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Yes, my prince," I replied through gritted teeth, unable to mask my frustration as we exited the bustling hall. Together, we strolled through the corridors of the castle, the cool night air offering a welcome respite from the stifling atmosphere within. Eventually, we found ourselves outside, gazing up at the expanse of the night sky.Leaning casually against the stone wall, Prince Daemon's demeanor remained unruffled as he addressed me.

"You seem rather perturbed, Ser Arthur. I can't help but wonder what's troubling you," he remarked with an air of nonchalance.

"You know perfectly well what's bothering me, so spare me the feigned ignorance," I retorted sharply, my tone tinged with bitterness.

"Is it because I'm enjoying myself, Ser Arthur?" he inquired, his gaze steady as he met my glare.

"Forget that", he said."I have something important to tell you, Arthur, so listen closely," he stated firmly, his tone indicating that what followed would demand my full attention.

"King Jaehaerys I and King Aegon IV were two sides of the same coin, very similar," he began, his tone casual yet laced with a hint of amusement. I scoffed at his comparison, unable to hide my skepticism.

"King Jaehaerys was an able administrator of the kingdom, whereas King Aegon IV was a whoremonger and a drunk," I countered, my disdain evident."Ah, but that's where you're mistaken, Ser Arthur," he interjected smoothly.

"King Jaehaerys was just as lustful as Aegon, but he was more discreet about it. Unlike Aegon, who pursued any woman he desired, Jaehaerys confined his amorous pursuits to his wife alone," he explained, nodding sagely."So, in essence, both kings engaged in similar activities, but the difference lay in the number of women they pursued," he concluded, a smirk playing upon his lips.

"What exactly are you trying to say?" I asked incredulously, struggling to follow his line of reasoning."Now, onto the main point, Ser Arthur. The only difference between the two kings was that one was a skilled administrator who kept his vices under control, while the other was a slave to his desires," he continued, his tone growing more serious."So, they were two sides of the same coin," he declared.

"And I, my dear Ser Arthur, am a blend of the two," he added with a self-assured smirk."You've told me all this to essentially say that you possess the intelligence of King Jaehaerys and the depravity of King Aegon," I summarized, my frustration mounting.

"Exactly," he affirmed, smiling triumphantly."You're a fool who thinks far too highly of himself," I retorted bitterly, my fists clenched at my sides."Rhaegar is suffering, and—" I began, but he cut me off."Good, he should suffer," Daemon interjected callously.

"I warned both of you not to go to Duskendale with a mere seven men, but you fools disregarded my advice and begged Darklyn to fuck you both in the arse and because of that, House Targaryen is being made a mockery across the Seven Kingdoms," he exclaimed angrily.

"A lord of the Crownlands is holding the future king of the Westeros hostage. Do you understand that, you idiot?" he seethed."When a fool tells you to jump off a cliff, you don't ask the fool how many times you should jump," he stated coldly.

"And to make it crystal clear, Rhaegar is the fool, and you are the idiot asking how many times he has to jump," he said mockingly, his words like barbed arrows striking at my pride.I felt my anger boiling inside me as he approached, his demeanor mocking and disdainful.

"You're angry, aren't you? You want to hit me right now," he observed with a sneer."Good. Remember this anger and beat my brother senseless the next time he invites you on another of his foolish quests," he spat contemptuously.

"It seems that only the women in Westeros have a brain," he taunted, his words like venom."Also, the first mistress of King Aegon IV was a Stokeworth," he added with a smirk.

"And I'm off to fuck one to honor my forefather King Aegon IV," he declared mockingly, turning to depart."So, I'll see you tomorrow, Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning," he called out mockingly, leaving me seething with rage as he disappeared into the night.

------

Jon Connington Pov

The wind whipped against my face as I rode towards Duskendale, accompanied by fifty riders from House Connington."You are the lord now, Jon," my father's voice echoed in my ear, a solemn reminder of the responsibilities that now weighed heavily upon my shoulders.I didn't have the luxury of time to mourn him properly. After laying him to rest, I knew my duty lay with Rhaegar.

"Rhaegar needs me," was the resolute thought that echoed in my mind, drowning out any other concerns.My blood boiled with righteous fury when I heard of the events in Duskendale.

If even a single hair on Rhaegar's head had been harmed, I vowed to personally bring Lord Darklyn to justice.As the outline of the port town came into view, I saw a multitude of tents sprawled outside the walls of Duskendale. Among them was the contingent sent by the king to resolve the situation, led by Prince Daemon.I held no fondness for him.

Arrogant and selfish, those were the only traits that seemed to define him in my eyes. "A threat to Rhaegar," a voice whispered in the recesses of my mind, but I dismissed it with a shake of my head.

Passing through the encampment, I couldn't help but notice the sheer number of men stationed outside the walls—nearly five thousand in total. Yet, to my dismay, there were no siege engines in sight. What was Daemon playing at?My attention was then drawn to a peculiar sight—a tourney stand being erected, its circular structure nearing completion.

The significance of such an endeavor amidst the turmoil of Duskendale left me perplexed and wary."What in the Seven Hells is wrong with him?" I shouted, my anger boiling over as I stormed towards the command tent.

"Rhaegar was being held in the dungeons of Duskendale while this ignorant fool was building a bloody tourney stand!"As I glanced towards the walls of Duskendale, I saw the men-at-arms lounging idly, their attention drawn towards the encamped army outside.Near the tent two knights caught my eye, clad in gleaming golden armor adorned with the sigil of a golden dragon on a field of black—Daemon's men.

"Let me through! I wish to speak with Prince Daemon!" I demanded, my hand instinctively reaching for my sword.But the knights remained steadfast, blocking my entry with unyielding resolve."Do not make me repeat myself!" I growled, my grip tightening on the hilt of my sword.

"Let the man in," came Daemon's voice from within the tent.With a flick of his hand, one of the knights reluctantly opened the flap, allowing me entry.As I stepped inside, I was met with a peculiar sight. Daemon stood alongside two knights of the Kingsguard, Prince Oberyn Martell, Arthur, and the man he had picked from Flea Bottom—Davos, if memory served correctly—and a member of the Alchemist's Guild.

"Ah, the red-headed firebrand I was waiting for," Daemon said with a smirk, his tone dripping with condescension.I gritted my teeth, feeling the weight of his arrogance pressing down on me. Glancing around, I noticed that the others wore downturned expressions, their discomfort palpable."Jon, it's good to see you," Arthur greeted me warmly, extending a hand.

I embraced him briefly, his presence offering a small comfort amidst the tension."Are you well, friend?" he inquired with genuine concern."It doesn't matter, Arthur," I replied tersely. "Only Rhaegar's well-being matters, and given the current situation, I doubt Prince Daemon's intentions to save his brother.

"What preparations are being made to siege Duskendale and save Rhaegar, my prince?" I demanded, turning my attention to Daemon."There's no need for a siege, Jon," he responded calmly, a self-assured smile playing on his lips."Do you honestly believe Lord Darklyn will simply open his gates to let us stroll in?" I retorted icily.

"Obviously he will," Daemon replied, his smirk widening, infuriating me further."It's been nearly three weeks since you've been encamped here. What have you accomplished?" I pressed, my frustration boiling over.Daemon's expression shifted, and Prince Oberyn moved, his hand drifting towards his dagger, a silent warning in his eyes.

"Mind your tongue when you speak to the prince, Connington," Oberyn interjected, his voice laced with malice."Oberyn, it's fine," Daemon interjected, defusing the tension.

"He's just concerned about my brother."The exchange left me seething with anger and frustration, but I held my tongue, knowing that any further confrontation would only escalate the situation."Come closer, Connington," Daemon beckoned, and I approached the table where the intricate layout of Duskendale was presented.

"I've stationed my men all around Duskendale, ensuring that none of their forces can slip away. We have enough men outside their gates," he explained."Our Master of Ships, Lord Lucerys Velaryon, has utilized the Royal Navy to blockade the sea, cutting off Darklyn's escape route," he continued.

"And I've enlisted the expertise of the greatest smuggler in Westeros to map out the various routes present in Duskendale," he said, nodding towards Davos, who appeared embarrassed by the compliment."Has Lord Darklyn said anything?" I inquired.

"Yes, he has," Daemon replied. "He threatened that if I attempt to attack Duskendale, Rhaegar's head will roll," he added, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes.Hearing those words ignited a fierce rage within me. How dare Darklyn threaten Rhaegar's life?

"So, all we can do is wait," I grumbled, frustrated by the sense of helplessness."I do have a plan," Daemon said with a smirk, his confidence evident."Tonight, I will send Ser Barristan into the town to save Rhaegar," he announced boldly."Ser Barristan, with all due respect, the entire kingdom knows of your prowess in battle," I interjected.

"But it's a highly risky endeavor. What if you fail?" I pressed."If Ser Barristan is caught Darklyn will kill the Crown Prince," I warned."Don't be a fool, Connington," Daemon scoffed, dismissing my concerns with a laugh. "Darklyn knows without Rhaegar, he'swell and truly fucked. And as for Ser Barristan, I have full confidence he'll succeed," he declared confidently.

"Does anyone else have any queries? I need to go and explain this situation to the Crownlander lords before they get antsy," Daemon announced with a grin.Just then, one of Daemon's knights burst into the tent."My prince, a rider from the capital has arrived with a letter for you, sent by the king," he announced.Daemon's mismatched eyes narrowed with curiosity.

"Bring him in," he ordered.The messenger entered, looking weary. "My prince," he began."The king said you must be informed of this immediately," he said, handing a scroll to Daemon.As Daemon read the scroll, his eyes widened. "Fuck," he muttered softly.

"The king also sent this," the messenger said, handing over another scroll.Daemon's smile grew as he read it. "Yes," he exclaimed, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.He looked up, sensing the curiosity that hung heavy in the air, each of us waiting with bated breath.

"Lord Steffon Baratheon, the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, and his wife, Lady Cassana, are no more," he announced solemnly, sending shockwaves through the room."Their ship met its end in Shipbreaker Bay," he continued, his voice heavy with grief."The king is journeying to the Stormlands to pay his respects," he added, the weight of the news sinking in for all present.

"Furthermore, Father says he wants this Darklyn nonsense sorted as soon as possible," he concluded, his tone resolute as he relayed the king's decree."Barry, get ready for the mission," he commanded, his voice tinged with determination."Tonight is the night we bring my brother back from the clutches of the Darklyns," he declared.

---

The sky was as dark as ink, the hour of the wolf, supposed to be the darkest. I observed Prince Daemon exchange a few words with Ser Barristan before embracing the knight as he departed.Ser Barristan, clad in common clothes with only his sword, accompanied the prince's smuggler into the town, aiming for stealth.

The camp was quiet, everyone asleep except for a few men, including the prince himself. We waited patiently for any sign of Ser Barristan's return with Rhaegar, each passing minute heightening our anticipation.

As time dragged on, my heart quickened with worry. The night sky gradually gave way to the rising sun. "Did he get caught?" I couldn't help but think to myself, watching Prince Daemon pace nervously.

Then, in the distance, shouts erupted from the knights and men-at-arms atop the walls of Duskendale.I saw Barristan on horseback beside Prince Rhaegar. "He did it!" Daemon exclaimed loudly, his joy palpable.

"Barristan the Bold indeed!" he shouted, prompting cheers from the awakening men.Ser Barristan brought Rhaegar back to the tent, where the maester attended to both men. Upon entering, I looked at Rhaegar. His face was pale, indicating he hadn't eaten in a long time; he looked weak.

As the maester removed Rhaegar's clothes, I noticed numerous cuts, some deep and others not, now beginning to scar."Rhaegar, you're safe," I said, gripping his hand as he slowly lifted his head. "Jon, is that you?" he asked softly."Yes, it's me," I replied, feeling tears welling up.But as I held his hand, I realized he was burning with fever.

"Brother, good to see you alive," Daemon said as he entered the tent, his expression initially smug but turning cold as he assessed Rhaegar's condition."Who did this, Rhaegar?" he demanded, his voice filled with anger. Rhaegar looked tired and didn't say much in response."Jon, come out," Daemon said, and I reluctantly left the tent.

"You'll be leaving with Rhaegar on one of Lord Velaryon's ships, heading to King's Landing alongside the two Kingsguard knights and Ser Arthur," he instructed."Make sure my brother's fever breaks and nothing happens to him," he added, his seriousness shaking me."What will you do?" I asked.

"The things I have planned for House Darklyn will make the Seven Hells seem like paradise," he replied, his gaze fixed on Duskendale.In that moment, I witnessed a transformation. The arrogance and pride that usually defined him were stripped away, replaced by a chilling determination for vengeance. His eyes gleamed with a dark intensity, promising retribution beyond imagination.

-----

Daemon Pov

surveyed the scene before me, the figure of Denys Darklyn knelt in front, his voice trembling as he begged for mercy.

His actions had been audacious, daring to defy me by opening the gates of his own town, knowing full well it was a futile gesture.Beside him, his knights mirrored his posture, their heads bowed in submission. I could feel the tension in the air, my men watching me closely, awaiting my command.

"Bring forth every member of House Darklyn, from the main branch to the cadet houses," I commanded, my voice steady and commanding as I addressed my men. "Denys, you will personally identify each of your kin, along with any affiliated knightly houses."Denys nodded obediently, his gaze fixed on the ground, a shadow of shame crossing his face.

"Remember, the only armed men within these walls should be our own," I reminded my men sternly as we made our way into the city.As we entered, I could sense the fear emanating from the people. They knew something drastic was about to happen to their rulers, and they trembled at the uncertainty.We marched straight to Dunfort, the ancestral seat of House Darklyn.

Taking my place upon the throne, I looked out over the gathered members of the house, each one brought in chains before me. Among them stood Denys and his wife, Lady Serala of Myr, their defiance replaced with resignation.The hall was filled with lords from across the Crownlands, witnessing the downfall of a once-proud house.

It was a somber sight, but necessary to assert my authority and ensure such defiance would not go unpunished."My Loyal Lords and Knights of the Crownlands,you have all gathered here to save my brother from the clutches of this fool," I declared, gesturing towards Darklyn.

"And you have achieved that. Now, I will demonstrate precisely why the words of my house are 'fire and blood'."I strode purposefully towards the kneeling figure of Denys Darklyn and seized his throat firmly. Leaning in close, I whispered into his ear, "The moment you held my brother captive was the moment you sealed the fate of your own house.

" Fear flashed across his face as my words sank in."Take him and his wife to the dungeons," I commanded, my voice unwavering. "And the rest of these traitors, take them to the tourney grounds."As they were escorted away, I made my way to the dungeons beneath Dunfort. Confronting the man responsible for my brother's torture, I demanded answers. But he was too terrified to speak.

Frustrated, I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall."Where did you torture my brother?" I roared, my patience wearing thin.Weakly, he pointed towards a cell. Inside, I found a gruesome scene: a table adorned with various knives, coated in blood.

"Do you have any idea how much I long to end your wretched life?" I seethed at Darklyn, but I knew swift death was not his fate."Tie him up," I ordered my men, and they bound him tightly with chains, rendering him unable to move. Justice would be served, but not swiftly. He would suffer for his crimes against my family.

"Now, you," I said, striding towards his wife."Lady Serala of Myr," I acknowledged, taking in her exotic beauty with a smirk."I know for a fact that this fool you call a husband was not solely responsible for this defiance," I asserted, meeting her gaze as she glared back at me with eyes filled with hate."Good. I like that look," I remarked, motioning for her to be bound as well."Now, Darklyn, I've brought fifty of my personal guards from the capital," I continued.

"They're accustomed to indulging themselves at least once a month," I stated with a smirk."But now, due to the lack of women for the past month, I've decided to reward them," I announced, relishing in the shock that registered on both their faces as they comprehended my intentions.

"You will watch as your wife is taken by all fifty of my men, you pathetic excuse for a lord," I declared, my voice dripping with malice. "And this is just the beginning."As both of them started to protest and plead, I glanced at my men, seeing the eagerness in their eyes as they awaited my command.

"She's all yours, boys," I said with a cruel smile, as the cries of the traitor and his wife echoed throughout the cells, drowned out only by the anticipation of my men.

I entered the dungeons at midday, greeted by the sight of the woman lying naked and motionless on the ground. Her state was a testament to the torment she had endured, and I couldn't help but taunt Denys as I observed the aftermath of my men's actions.

"Did you enjoy the free show, Lord Denys?" I jeered at him. "Did you find pleasure in hearing your wife's moans?"Denys spat at me in response, a futile display of defiance that only fueled my determination to break him.

"This is just the beginning," I declared, wiping his saliva from my face. "I will break you."With a command, my men stripped Denys naked, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. We then brought him to the town center, where a pillar awaited, its surface rough with nails ready to tear at flesh.As I tied him to the pillar, I addressed him with a cold smirk.

"Are you ready for what comes next, Darklyn?"The crowd's anticipation rose, a mix of horrified gasps and eager cheers from my men. With a swift motion, I seized the whip, its nails gleaming ominously in the daylight.With each crack of the whip, Denys's screams pierced the air, his pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears.

The nails tore at his flesh, leaving behind a trail of blood and agony.By the time I was finished, Denys's back was a raw, bloody mess, a grim reminder of the consequences of defying royal authority.

"Now you walk naked across your town," as I mounted my horse. The chains clinked as they were handed to me, a crude leash for his public punishment.With each step he took, his pace sluggish and hesitant, I tugged hard on the chains. He stumbled, falling to his knees, tears mixing with dirt on his cheeks.

The sight of him, stripped bare and vulnerable before the people he once ruled over, filled me with a twisted satisfaction. He had earned this.As we made our way through the town, the air thick with jeers and taunts, men hurled stones at him. Each impact elicited another cry of pain, another reminder of his disgrace. And yet, amidst the chaos, a sense of justice prevailed. He had brought this upon himself, and now he would bear the consequences.

After completing his walk of shame, I led him outside the walls of Duskendale to the tournament grounds I had meticulously prepared. Among the hushed murmurs of the onlookers, I guided him to a stark wooden cross, its ominous silhouette casting a foreboding shadow in the fading light.

There, to the horror of all present, my men bound his hands and feet tightly to the splintered wood. His cries echoed through the silence as each nail pierced his flesh, the sickening sound mingling with the gasps of the crowd. Blood seeped from the wounds, staining the ground beneath him in a grotesque tableau of agony and retribution.

With a grim determination, I raised the cross upright, the weight of his suffering now on full display for all to see. The stands filled to capacity, a sea of faces ranging from common folk to nobles, each drawn to witness the brutal spectacle unfolding before them.

As the last rays of sunlight faded into dusk, the man's anguished wails reverberated against the stone walls of the city, a chilling reminder of the consequences that awaited those who dared to defy justice.In the center of the field, a grim congregation assembled: men, women, and children, numbering over a hundred, their faces etched with fear and uncertainty.

"Open the gates," I commanded, and with a creak, the wooden barriers parted, revealing a macabre cart laden with an array of crude, bloodstained weapons."Take one weapon each," my voice echoed across the field, and they complied, their trembling hands clutching whatever implement they could grasp.

"With heavy heart and righteous fury, I must mete out justice for your lord's treachery against House Targaryen," I proclaimed, my words like a cold blade slicing through the air, sending shivers down the spines of all who heard.

"Though you are all sentenced to die for your complicity, I am feeling merciful today," I continued, a cruel smile twisting my lips. "Only one among you may escape this fate."The crowd murmured, disbelief and terror intertwining in their eyes as they realized the magnitude of their predicament. "But know this," I intoned, my voice laced with menace.

"Disobedience will be met with swift and merciless punishment."With a gesture, my men seized a young lad, Robin Hollard, his screams of terror drowning in the sea of horrified silence that engulfed the field. They bound him to a stake, his youthful frame quivering with dread as the alchemists approached, their hands carrying the vile substance known as wildfire.

As the green flames licked hungrily at his flesh, his agonized cries pierced the stillness, his body writhing in torment as the inferno consumed him. The acrid stench of burning flesh hung heavy in the air, a haunting reminder of the consequences of defiance.

And in that moment, amidst the horror and despair, I stood as judge, jury, and executioner.I strode towards Denys Darklyn, his eyes wide with a mixture of dread and disbelief. "Now, witness the raw essence of humanity," I declared, my voice carrying a chilling edge.

"Let the games begin," I announced, spreading my arms wide, a twisted conductor orchestrating a symphony of violence. With a savage fervor, Denys's kin, bound by blood yet consumed by savagery, descended upon each other like rabid beasts. The air filled with the anguished cries of women and children, their pleas for mercy drowned out by the cacophony of brutality.

As the melee unfolded before us, each blow landed with sickening force, the metallic tang of blood staining the air. Limbs flailed, bodies crumpled, and the ground became slick with crimson ichor.

No one was spared in this frenzied dance of death."Do you comprehend now?" I hissed, my voice a venomous whisper amidst the chaos. "I gave them blunt weapons for a reason—so they would suffer, so they would endure a slow descent into oblivion while you bore witness to their agony.

"Denys watched in horror as his family tore each other apart, powerless to intervene, his soul drowning in a sea of despair.The gruesome spectacle stretched on for hours, a grotesque tableau of carnage and despair, until only one man remained.

His body, a canvas painted in blood, stood as a testament to the savagery that lurked within us all."We have a winner," I proclaimed, a macabre grin twisting my lips as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a crimson hue upon the scene of unparalleled horror.

The once-vibrant field now lay silent, a graveyard for the damned, haunted by the echoes of the atrocities committed in the name of vengeance."What have I done?" The man's anguished cry pierced the air, his body drenched in the blood of his kin, a grotesque tapestry of carnage. He fell to his knees, his sobs echoing against the backdrop of death that surrounded him.

"Ahhh!" His scream, a symphony of despair, rose to a crescendo as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the macabre scene.The ground, once vibrant with life, now bore witness to the aftermath of unspeakable brutality. The bodies of men, women, and children lay strewn about, their lifeblood mingling with the earth in a grotesque ballet of death.

The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, threatening to suffocate all who dared to breathe it.As I surveyed the carnage, I witnessed the horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers, some retching as their stomachs rebelled against the ghastly spectacle before them.

I had unleashed a nightmare upon this unsuspecting town, introducing them to a darker, more primal form of entertainment, one born of the twisted depths of Essos.With a gesture, I motioned toward the members of the Alchemists Guild, their faces masked in shadow as they approached, carrying caches of wildfire. The volatile substance gleamed ominously in the fading light, a harbinger of the destruction yet to come.

My men, grim-faced and resolute, bore Denys Darklyn's cross to the center of the blood-soaked ground, where another figure emerged from the shadows—the man's wife, her eyes wide with terror as she was dragged from the depths of the cellars and placed beside him.

The stage was set, the players assembled, and as the last vestiges of daylight faded into oblivion, I stood as the architect of their torment.I strode across the twisted landscape, each step a macabre dance upon the broken bodies of the fallen, clutching a scroll in my bloodstained hand.

"Denys, look here," I murmured, presenting the cruel document with a twisted grin.

"My father bestowed this upon me," I announced, my voice dripping with malice. "A city charter, a transfer of Duskendale and all its lands into my grasp. It appears I am now the first prince of Duskendale," I chuckled darkly, relishing in the power coursing through my veins.

"Your family's legacy, once loyal to mine, has paved the way for my ascension," I sneered, tracing the insignia of House Darklyn emblazoned upon the parchment. "And now, thanks to your valiant sacrifice, I have been given the opportunity to wield fire and blood across the realm.

"With a cruel smirk, I turned away from Denys, leaving him to languish amidst the carnage, the stench of death clinging to the air like a shroud. "And now, my dear friend," I taunted, addressing a man caked in mud and blood, "you shall have the honor of igniting the wildfire for your kinsmen.

"But his defiance was met with swift retribution. "You are a monster!" he screamed, his words ringing out like a curse upon the desolate landscape. In a moment of cold fury, I beckoned for my sword.With a single stroke, I silenced his cries, his head rolling to the ground in a grotesque ballet of death.

"I spared you, and this is how you repay me?" I spat.With a callous gesture, I ordered his lifeless corpse to join the others.The night draped itself over the scene like a shroud, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows upon the assembled throng. With a voice that echoed like a dirge, I addressed the crowd, my words laden with a chilling certainty.

"You have borne witness to the blood spilled of the Darklyns," I intoned, my gaze sweeping over the gathered masses."Now, you shall witness the fire to consume them as well," I declared, a sinister smile curling upon my lips.With practiced precision, I notched an arrow, its tip ensconced in cloth soaked with oil. As the fabric ignited, I released the arrow, its fiery trajectory piercing the heart of darkness that was House Darklyn.

The arrow found its mark amidst the pile of bodies, the flames spreading with voracious hunger, engulfing the fallen in a maelstrom of emerald fire that danced malevolently in the night.

As the inferno raged on, casting sinister shadows upon the twisted landscape, the bards began to play a haunting melody, their instruments weaving a symphony of doom that echoed through the night. It was a requiem for House Darklyn, a dirge that heralded their inevitable demise at my hands.

I stood amidst the flickering emerald flames, my gaze fixed upon the growing conflagration. The air crackled with the heat of my vengeance, and in that moment, a sense of grim satisfaction washed over me.

"I did it," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the roar of the flames. "I brought fire and blood upon them.

"It was a declaration spoken not with regret, but with a chilling sense of triumph. I had orchestrated the downfall of House Darklyn, and as their legacy crumbled to ash before me.