Game of Dragonborn

Chapter 259 – Facing the enemy.

[Chapter Size: 2200 Words.]

Third Person POV.

King's Landing.

...

...

The dragons in front of the city wall had been restrained until now. Suddenly, they began to move, especially the green dragon. It looked up, raising its wings and advancing into the sky, generating a huge gust of wind in the front lines.

Daemon watched the green dragon, still on Winter's back.

"You should rest for a bit, girl," Daemon said calmly, as the white dragon flew toward Viridrax, who approached from below, as Daemon exerted command through the warg bond.

Winter made a small sound that seemed like a faint grumble, but she would stop flying and rest. After all, she had created several ice shards over hundreds of meters and was quite exhausted. That was true.

As the white dragon approached to pass over the green dragon, Daemon simply jumped off it, before casting his levitation magic, remaining in the air for a few seconds. The green dragon passed right beneath him, and Daemon landed directly on its back, quickly settling behind its neck.

"Well, this is our first time flying together, Viridrax..." said Daemon, letting out a laugh and patting the dragon, while it roared ahead, seeming quite happy and excited.

They moved quickly, and soon they heard the panic coming from the enemy camp. Everyone was running forward, trying to avoid the advance of the cold front. No one was prepared for that, as they watched the grass simply die as the phenomenon approached the camp.

Daemon turned the dragon as it dove downward, near the city wall, while his men simply watched. The king was making movements they did not understand.

"Dracarys!"

The moment he declared it from Viridrax's back, the dragon expelled flames directly onto the grass, which spread rapidly. It glided close to the ground while continuing to burn in a straight line until reaching near the sea.

He needed to protect his men. The heat of the flames would, at first, prevent the cold front from advancing toward the city wall, which would also leave the Blackfyre army with few escape options. They would only have the west, where the king's forest lay, but that large number of men would create enormous confusion. And besides, they would have practically already lost the war, as they would become a scattered army, incapable of reorganizing in the midst of chaos.

But that wall of flames was not enough. So he returned and, once again, began to spew flames over those that had already been created, while the blaze grew even stronger.

His men watched. Daemon had not destroyed anything of theirs yet. He had only warned the commanders that he would begin to act against the enemies that day.

He made another circle, launching three layers of flames.

Even the enemies, in panic, would realize that they should run toward the flames, rather than remain still while the deadly cold front approached ever closer.

With a turn, he advanced toward the city, before stopping a few meters from the first line of his men. The infantry was startled by the dragon.

He then turned the dragon to face everyone, still on its back.

"Attention, everyone!" Daemon's voice roared, making everyone immediately stiffen.

"I want everyone to prepare, because our enemy is about to come for us. I want you to gather every barrel possible, form a shield line, and assemble all the archers we have. When those men pass through the wall of flames, they will be desperate. The order is simple: fire your arrows as your commanders demand. And commanders, kill as many enemies as possible."

Daemon gave the order as he turned back, making the dragon pivot and take off once more.

It didn't take long for shouts to begin to rise. Mance, Lord Stark, Lord Tully, and Lord Baratheon quickly began moving the troops. The archers started to line up—tens of thousands of them, forming lines stretching for hundreds of meters, while arrows were brought in, not only from the stock they already had, but also from what had been produced in the past weeks since the conquest of King's Landing.

Daemon made the dragon reach a suitable height. He observed the enemy camp and the way they were preparing: the cavalry being organized, men shouting at one another. They couldn't stay there.

Then, the cold front finally reached the camp.

The scouts who were closest to the southern edge of the camp felt the wind pass through them—a wind so cold that they could see the molecules of the air freezing, forming a thin mist visible to the naked eye. Their faces were struck immediately, feeling the burning sensation as they tried to breathe. The horror came in the next instant, as they felt their organs burning while freezing with the air they inhaled.

Screams began to erupt throughout the camp, and everyone started running forward.

From above, Daemon saw their desperation. They were no longer even concerned about the dragon.

He took advantage of this, applying a resistance spell to himself and to Viridrax, making both himself and the dragon about 98% resistant to ice through alteration magic.

Then, he dove and began to descend. He made no sound—he didn't want to draw the entire camp's attention. When some looked up, it was already too late.

The dragon had already reached the point he wanted. Immediately, it spread its wings.

"Dracarys!" The first thing he did was attack the cavalry.

Together, horses and men were bathed in flames while they were shouting, preparing to advance, when they looked up and saw the dragon already above them, hearing only the beating of its wings before the flames descended directly upon the horses.

Even Lord Tarly was caught by surprise, being among them. He came out screaming from the flames, with part of his body burned.

His men ran to rescue him, while the horses became even more frantic, seeing their own kind being burned alive along with the riders.

That was war. There was no way to preserve the animals.

Daemon moved through the flames; they did not burn him, making him look like a creature of fire as he danced through dragonfire without being harmed.

Harry had never managed to stop Daemon's advance. He tried, even so, when he realized he had no choice.

But the duel did not last long. Frustrated, he saw the look of disappointment in Daemon's eyes, who cut off his hand before killing him.

"You should never have left Essos. The company you led will be destroyed once and for all, and they will never have the chance to follow Blackfyre."

Harry Strickland only heard those words, looking at Daemon in fear and terror, spitting blood. The last thing he managed to see were his purple eyes, staring at him coldly.

"Fool," Daemon spat. "An idiot who only came here to die." His eyes then turned to the side.

A crowd of men stared at him—arrows, shields, spears, and swords in hand. But they hesitated, as if they didn't know what to do.

There were even men from the Crownlands among them. Many had sided with the other side, believing that Blackfyre's claim was better and that their military advantage would guarantee victory.

But they were also mistaken. Daemon smiled.

"Well… it seems I'm in the middle of an enemy army." On one side, the cold front was massacring the camp.

On the other, men were desperately preparing to cross the wall of flames created by the dragon.

Elephants still spread chaos.

Screams came from every direction.

Daemon observed once more.

There was no one there he wanted to spare.

"Hey, Aegon Blackfyre! Your voice is coming from somewhere else. Where are you, you bastard? Face me!"

With those words, Daemon smiled before roaring.

"Mul Qah Diiv" When he released the next Thu'um, it was the second time he had assumed that form in that world.

Ethereal layers began to wrap around his body, forming a spectral horned helmet, glowing in supernatural tones. The rest of his magical armor manifested shortly after.

Daemon had assumed his draconic human form.

He looked at the people around him, consumed by fear.

But he didn't care.

He had a target.

And he would go through all of them until he reached it.

A man alone in the middle of the enemy army...

Without hesitation, he advanced against the massive group of soldiers.

Nothing else mattered.

He only wanted to carve a path until he found his true adversary.

And so he did.

He began cutting down his enemies, one after another.

Now, they no longer saw him as a man.

But as something far worse. A vengeful god.

Because no one should possess the power Daemon carried—nor the absolute control he demonstrated.

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