Chapter 9: Chapter 9: The Dance over the Mountains of the Moon
On the field in front of the burning Maidenpool, two armies faced each other. One carried the banner of the Greens, while the other carried the banner of the Blacks. At first glance, the Greens seemed to be outnumbered, but they had what the Blacks no longer possessed: able-fighting dragons. The carcass of the titan was still there, albeit only bones now, which were slowly disintegrating.
The two sides met in the middle of the field, with Lord Clement Celtigar and Lord Walys Mooton commanding the Black Host, while Prince Daeron rode Tessarion to the designated location to represent the Greens. Lord Clement could only stare at the gigantic corpse of the titan far away in the town, but his thoughts were pulled away when the ground shook as Tessarion landed right in front of him. It was not long before Prince Daeron dismounted and stood tall in front of the older Celtigar and Mooton.
Lord Clement glanced at the sword resting in the prince's sheath; it was Dark Sister, a sign of troubling things. "So?" Daeron was the first to speak. "What do you wish to convey?"
"I've come offering terms of surrender," Lord Clement said, though his voice was weak. "Your number is small compared to ours, Prince Daeron. If you drop your swords and shields—"
"Is that supposed to be an insult, my lord?" Daeron questioned casually. "We have hostages, Lord Walys' kin. If you engage us here, they will be executed immediately. However, if you bend the knee now, you will be spared and will march with us to calm the remaining rebellion. Lord Clement, your late father may have sided with the pretender, but it is not too late for you. Claw Isle may yet be ruled by the Celtigars in the foreseeable future."
Lord Clement was about to speak, but Lord Mooton stopped him. The lord of Maidenpool looked at his burning town from afar and could only clench his fists. "Do you think our cause is lost?"
"Yes," Daeron simply said. "Your queen is dead, her sons are dead, her husband is dead. Who do you wish to place on the Iron Throne? Yourself?"
"Lady Jeyne Arryn still holds Joffrey Velaryon."
Daeron just stared at the man. "Not for long."
Lord Clement sighed, removing his helmet. "I am willing to surrender, my prince. However, I cannot speak for the rest of the Clawmen houses and Lord Walys Mooton."
"Then I am willing to surrender as well," said Lord Mooton. "As long as you spare my kin."
"Oh?" Daeron was a bit surprised. "You are more cooperative than I thought, Lord Walys. I had thought you were willing to fight to the last blood since we've burned your town."
"It's a fruitless cause, my prince. If I am to fight, as you said yourself, my kin will be killed, and I will die on this battlefield," Walys murmured. "And my House will cease to exist. If there is anyone to blame, it's the stupidity of Prince Daemon that it has come to this."
"Do not speak ill of the dead, my lord." Daeron hummed. "But so be it. Then bend the knee now."
And so, the two lords bent their knees to Prince Daeron, and with the two of them surrendering, the rest followed suit.
***
When Daemon Targaryen fell, so did the Blacks. One by one, lords across the realm surrendered, with the Reach Lords surrendering first as they were the ones who had yet to commit to anything substantial. Lord Ormund Hightower marched towards King's Landing uncontested, even adding to his numbers as time went on.
The Riverlands and the Crownlands were next. Aside from the devastated Driftmark and the empty Dragonstone, the rest of the lords of Crackclaw Point surrendered when faced with the threat of a dragon. As for those near the Trident, the Blacks' host was easily defeated by the Lannister host west of God's Eye, as they took a defensive position in front of the combined forces of the Blackwoods, the Freys, and the Winter Wolves of the North. In the last moments, Prince Aemond Targaryen brought his men-at-arms to ambush the already battered army, routing them instantly. However, the losses were significant, as Lord Jason Lannister was killed, along with many other Westerlands lords. With that defeat, the Riverlands had no clear army left, leaving only the Vale and the North remaining.
But it was not too long before two became one.
Prince Daeron took flight, passing the mountains of the Vale, passing the already closed Bloody Gate, towards the Eyrie itself. He circled around the castle for a while before eventually landing in the inner courtyard, the same thing that Queen Visenya Targaryen did a century ago. But instead of being greeted warmly, he was instantly surrounded by men-at-arms, pointing their spears at the prince, while the lady of the castle, Lady Jeyne Arryn, stood behind them, along with the one remaining Black claimant, Joffrey Velaryon, and Rhaena Targaryen.
However, Daeron was calm. He rested his hand on Dark Sister, and looked at the men-at-arms one by one.
"Good morrow, my lady," he said. "I have come to offer terms."
"What terms?" answered Lady Jeyne. "You showed up here with your dragon. Is that not a threat?"
"Regrettably, I cannot go through the normal route here. As the gates are shut." Daeron shrugged. "So forgive my rather bluntness."
The lady shook her head. "Then what terms do you bring? Are you going to ask me to kill a child and a lady only because their very existence threatens your family's legitimacy?"
"Let us not come to more bloodshed." Daeron stated. "I am sure that you, as well as us, have already tasted enough of it."
"I'm sure you do, after all that kinslaying."
Daeron merely smiled. "Your cause is lost, my lady. I have come to offer you a peaceful resolution. Well, rather, I have come to offer it to the remaining claimant."
Daeron's eyes then turned to Joffrey, who looked at him, seething with rage. However, the young man acted ignorant towards the hatred and turned to Lady Jeyne once more. "He is not yet of age. Am I to assume that you are his ward now? Or is it Lady Rhaena? But she has just reached that age as well."
Lady Jeyne relaxed, but Daeron could still see a seething frustration in her eyes. "I have dealt with similar schemes on my own. My own kin had tried to usurp me from my birthright as well. I have thwarted all of them. I am sure I could do well in front of your family's scheme."
Daeron sighed. "Even if it means more bloodshed? The whole Vale will burn due to your choice, my lady."
"The Vale is my home," Jeyne continued, "as it is my bannermen's. You can try to take it."
"House Arryn might be extinct at the end of this."
"That has yet to happen," Lady Jeyne stood steadfast.
Daeron could only close his eyes, as if regret was consuming him. "Very well. Then war it is."
It was then that the household guards of Lady Jeyne stepped up, once again threatening the prince with their spears. He could only raise his brow at them and turned to the one who owned the castle.
"Am I allowed to leave?" Daeron asked. "Or do you and your men wish to burn before Tessarion's flames?"
"We will honor your rights," Jeyne said thinly.
"Thank you." Daeron nodded, stepping away from his position and towards Tessarion, mounting the beast. He took a look at Lady Jeyne for one last time, lowering his head slightly. "And I am sorry about the things that the Vale will endure because of you."
Without even waiting for a reply, Tessarion took flight. When the dragon ascended, it passed through the thin clouds, as the Eyrie itself is high in the mountains. While it was not a particularly cloudy day, patches of clouds covered the entire sight of the castle when one passed above it. Tessarion flew unusually slowly, and Daeron looked melancholic as the flight continued.
Only minutes had passed since he left the castle, yet the conversation still haunted him. They did not know what was coming for them.
But then, suddenly, a roar echoed through the sky. Daeron quickly turned and saw Tyraxes and Joffrey flying fiercely towards him. From afar, he could see the hatred in the boy, shouting commands at his barely rideable dragon to kill Tessarion. Daeron clenched his saddle tightly, and the blue dragon spun around so quickly that the clouds around were swept away by the force.
In an instant, Tessarion swooped down towards Tyraxes. While the she-dragon's size was only a little bit bigger than the gray dragon, Tyraxes was ferocious due to the emotional state of his rider. At first, Tessarion tried to use her claw to dig deep into the flesh of her opponent, but the size of Tyraxes made him nimble and able to avoid it. Gray flames then burst from Tyraxes's mouth, burning the side of the young blue dragon. A piercing roar echoed, and now Tessarion was full of rage. Her head turned so quickly, her mouth launching azure flames towards Joffrey.
But then those blue flames clashed with gray ones, the particles and colors dancing in the cold sky. When the fire turned to smoke, it was Tessarion that emerged from it, using it to strike the blinded Tyraxes first, biting the neck of the dragon.
It was then that it was over. Because of the suddenness, Joffrey fell from his saddle, dangling in the air due to the chains that bound him to Tyraxes. But the gray dragon was no more. Tessarion clenched her jaws, and the small Tyraxes's neck was crushed in an instant. And so, the dead dragon fell from the sky, leaving only the barely flying Tessarion in its death. The rider, Daeron, suffered injuries from Tyraxes's flames, his left arm charred to the bone, his armor almost fusing with his skin, and now he was writhing in pain.
Due to the dance, the clouds around them cleared out. Amidst his pain, he turned to the Eyrie, only to see it crumbling to the ground as a haunting roar echoed in the fallen castle. A fifty-foot titan had fallen right in the middle of it and was currently wreaking havoc by punching and kicking all the walls and rooms, destroying it entirely. No doubt, the people inside were dead, whether from the falling debris or from the titan itself.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Giver_Of_Crabs_165
Giver_Of_Crabs_165 sorry, a bit busy this week, I'll try to upload more next week
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
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