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Vixere
CaptainBrittonKing's Landing, Aegon's High Hill
The Crownlanders made their way down the main street that led down from Aegon's High Hill, their mounts thundering down upon the cobblestones of King's Landing. Far to the West, smoke was rising, no doubt signs of battle being joined at the walls, gates, and towers that defended the people of the city. The noises of war rang out loud, of men screaming and yelling, horse neighing, and of the crashing of projectiles from enemy siege equipment. All the while the city descended into chaos, Rhaenyra and Baela rode for their objective, riding for the Dragon Pit.
Rhaenyra looked off into the distance, as she galloped forward on her mount. The wind blew in her face, forcing its way into her visored helm, creating a rushing sound that seamed to drown out all other noises of the city about her. She looked back infront of her, riding hard for the crossroads of the Street of Sisters. She knew that they had to get there before any enemy forces could congest the busy intersection, let alone block it completely. There were other ways she thought, but not were as fast, nor as direct as the Street of Sisters. Rhaenyra turned to look back at the Red Keep, looking at the smoke rising from within it from the fighting between the Sellswords and the Tyrell guards. Lyman Lannister was his name, and he had caused this blood letting from the inside, who was to say more could not happen?
Baela kicked her spurs harder into her mount's sides, spurring the horse onwards with ever greater speed. She was eager to take to the skies, to ride atop Jadefyre and let the worlds worries fall away, like water being flicked from your hand after washing them. She smiled, knowing that what her and her sister were going to do would no doubt be a surprise for "King" Aerys, the little mad wretch. How Garland could so blindly trust in him, in being able to guide Aerys along the right path, was unfathomable. She shook her head, clearing these thoughts in order to focus on the true task at hand, reaching the Dragon Pit. She crouched her spear, getting a better hold upon it as she drew close to King's Square. The massive square loomed ahead, and much to her dreaded fears, it was being engulfed in battle along its Western edges, Tyrell and Goldcloak forces fighting against assualting Crakehall men.
She just needed to ride harder, to catch that corner and begin riding uphill to the Dragon Pit. Rhaenyra looked from the center of the formation, noticing that they may just be able to get through unscathed. She watched as friendly forces struggled to hold back a rushing tide of fresh enemy soldiers, who's numbers only seemed ever more endless. The battle did not seem to be going in the favor of Lord Garland and "King" Aerys. The Crownlanders were but a small part of the greater force the held King's Landing. Even as she thought to herself, the remainder of the Crownlanders were hopefully rallying at the city docks, boarding the ships destined for their future target. It was a vain hope to hope that all the men that came with her would be able to escape, but then again, anyone can dream.
The lead men called out, pointing to a group of heavily armed and armored Crakehall forces, pushing their way across the battle lines, seemingly unstoppable. Whoever those men were, they we heading for what seemed like the same spot, the Street of Sisters. Rhaenyra and Baela moved their mounts over, pushing the outer edge of the formation. The two sisters were to be protected at all costs, no matter what. The rode harder, pushing their mounts to the limit as they aimed to beat the Crakehall men to the Street of Sisters that led to the Dragon Pit, and the Targaryen Dragons.
Perhaps it was luck, or fate, but a group of Goldcloaks and Tyrell men rushing out of a side street, between the Crownlanders, and the Crakehalls. Baela knew that they would be no real match for the very heavy infantry of the Crakehalls, but their sacrifice would buy them the time to reach the Dragon Pit, and freedom from there. Ser Trevan saw this too, and motioned for the calvary formation to rush past the local guards, abandoning them to their fates. They had a greater mission to attain, regardless of the moral dilema it may create. The Princesses needed to take to the air, to ride high atop their dragons. He did not look back, knowing it would be a bloody, sorid afair, and focused on the path ahead.
Kevan was in his plate, he and his houseguard were rushing through the streets of Kings Landing, a very specific ending location in mind. If he could reach the Dragon pit, he had a chance to trap or even kill those blasted Dragons, stopping the Targaryen sisters from possibly turning the battle in the favour of the defenders. With the fighting on the walls, in the Red Keep and across the streets he hoped most of the forced that would have been guarding the pit would be elsewhere and his 100 men would be enough. If he did this, Tyget would do far more than name him to the Small council, maybe even give him Crakehall castle... but it all hinged on getting there first, and being able to secure it... and as he and his men were on foot that possibility seemed to be shrinking in his mind.
They were on the last leg of their sprint, nearly at the Dragon Pit... Kevan was no longer certain how his plan was going to hold up...
As they neared the the Dragon Pit at the end of the street of Sisters, and were met with a force of Reachlanders... wonderful. The Heavily armored Crakehall Houseguard met with Reachlanders head on, the clash of steel ringing through the air. Kevan was near the center, flanked by his guard Captain as they clashed with the lighter armored soldiers of the Reach lands. Bringing his blade under the arm of onne of the Reachlanders, the tip of his blade sticking out of the poor bastards head. As the man fell he saw them, over the commotion were the sisters and their own retinue, "Fuck! Men! The Center! Cut through these Reach bastards! Move!", at his order the House guard all hit the center of the Reachlanders, following Kevan as they cut through the lighter armored men, forcing more than a few away as they rushed through. Crashing past the Reachlanders Kevan and at least 30 of his men got through, now sprinting as fast as they could to attempt to catch up to the riders... Kevan's mind raced as he thought of new angles to this... what the hell was he doing?
The Street of Sisters, Road to the Dragon Pit
Baela and Rhaenyra knew that they still had the entire length of the Street of Sisters to ride, all of it uphill, but it could be ill afforded to let up even now, their horses fatigued and strained from the mad rush they had done thus far from the Red Keep. It was Ser Trevan and Lord Rykker who made the gut call to ease up on their gallop, in order to save the horses, not only for their closer goal, but for the further one after the sisters were safe. The two men eased back the mounts, choosing to keep the formation at a canter, allowing the horse to catch their breath, and for the riders to be ready as well for what was next.
The Crakehall men had brushed aside the Reachmen and Goldcloaks, just as Lord Rykker and Ser Trevan presumed. They had perhaps ten minutes at most before the heavy infantry were at the Dragon Pit grounds. They had to get the sisters inside, to get the dragons into the large cobblestone square, and then into the air. They finally arrived into the square that the Dragon Pit occupied. The fighting had drawn away a part of the guard stationed there, but many more men remained milling about. It would do no good if they remained here, especially after the actions that Baela and Rhaenyra had planned, for better or worse.
Both sisters skidded to a halt before the massive gates of the Dragon Pit. Both sisters were breathing heavily, let alone how tired their horses were. Rhaenyra could hear how restless her dragon was, able to hear Visaxes straining against her chains, the hard breathing of a beast yearning for freedom. It had been far too long since the two had been together, been able to fly as one in the skies above. These thoughts were pushed aside as the Tyrell Dragon Pit commander came running forward, speaking to the sisters and their retinue. "What news, what is going on down in the city proper? Is it another riot?" The Knight asked, moving his visor upwards. He looked concerned, and why not, the city was being overrun at the moment.
Baela spoke first, guiding her men to rally up about the gates of the Dragon Pit. She spoke in a commanding tone to this unknown Knight. She hoped that he would listen to her, that this Reachman and his forces would accept what she had practiced on her way here. "The Red Keep is in danger. Sellswords have broken ranks, and are fighting to take it for the Crakehalls. Ser Willas has called for you to make with all due haste to the Keep, and secure it, at all costs." She motioned her own men to start taking formation about the area, to allay any fears or doubts the Knight had. She continued, "You have no time to waste, every moment you spend here is another moment that your Lord is in peril. We will defend the Dragon Pit, and ensure that we take to the skies."
The Knight looked at listened, nodding his head. What other reason would the Crownlanders have ridden here than to call upon his forces to help defend the Keep. Lord Garland and Ser Willas were there, and they needed his help. The Princess was right, in that she could guard the Dragon Pit, especially taking into consideration that she and her elder sister would be amount their own dragons. He nodded and bowed his head, rallying his forces about him, before taking off down a side street, the square rapidly emptying save for the Crownlanders present. Baela breathed a sigh of relief, as she watched the Tyrell forces double time for the Red Keep. It worked, and at the very least, she had bought those men more time to live, if not escape via the docks.
Ser Trevan was busy opening the gates to the Dragon Pit, raising the massive metal porticullis that barred the exit of the dragons that waited within. Baela and Rhaenyra were busy moving gear from their horse to the entrance, readying themselves to fly for the skies above. It was then that at the Street of Sisters end, which led into the square, that the Crakehall forces came running into view. They were speckled in blood, their armor gleaming in the rising sunlight of the day. Rhaenyra pointed at them first, shouting out to rally her own retinue about the gates. "Enemy forces... defensive positions... defend the gates... buy us time to mount up!"
Kevan saw not only his opportuniy closing, but quite possibly his life... he had to think quickly. He came to a halt before reaching the line, shouting to his men, "HALT! DROP SWORDS!", though clearly confused the House guard did as their Lord bade them, sheathing their blades or dropping them, Kevan doing the same, raising his hands, "Wait! Rhaenyra! Wait! You don't need to do this! I know... I know Aerys is not a King you would see ascend! the progeny of the mad! Please, listen to me! Give me time to convince you of... of a new oppourtuniy!", Kevan was, at his heart, a coward... he did not wish to die at the hands of dragons tonight... or ever for that matter.
Both Rhaenyra and Baela stopped, turning to look at this man who spoke to them. Who was he, what did he really want? Their own forces looked at them for guidance, not sure of what to make of this. The porticullis was raised, their dragons just a few hundred feet within. They could easily turn and run, run for their dragons, mount up, and breathe flame out the Dragon Pit's gates, and fly away. But then again, this could have been fate calling them. Baela was first to react, holding her right hand up to give the command to hold. "At ease... " She spoke aloud, in a tone that brokered no room for contest. Even as the Crownlanders exchanged confused looks, they backed up, lowering their weapons to a low ready stance, carefully watching these Crakehall men. After all, it could be a trap.
"You will speak to me, Baela of House Targaryen. Be quick with what you have to say..." Baela yelled out from behind her forces. She looked at the Crakehall forces, and to the one who seemed to be leading him. She was curious as to what he had to say. It couldn't hurt, and it would buy time for more people to escape via the docks. She awaited the man's response.
"I am Kevan Crakehall, Master of Arms on the small Council and cousin of King Tyget. If you listen to what I have to say, I feel we can all... benefit from this situation. Listen to me, the Westerlands army will take this city, the Reachmen can't hold it... not without your Dragons. If you, instead, help the Westerlands army enter the city, many lives will be saved, and when Tyget arrives not only will both of you be pardoned of any crimes, he will reward you! You are, after all his great nieces! Help us now and when he takes this city, you two, your men and anyone else you so choose will be spared, pardoned and... rewarded! He is a man of his word, and he never forgets those who have helped him!", Kevan had been in Kings Landing for many years... he just hoped what he had said was going to save his life and hopefully help take this city, "just, name those who you wish unharmed and once you have helped us I swear to you Tyget will repay you!"
Baela looked at her sister, clearly caught offguard by this offer. What was Kevan Crakehall getting at, especially now, of all times, to offer an alliance of sorts. She turned back to look at Kevan Crakehall, trying to process all that he had said. She looked back to her sister, putting her arms up in a shrugging motion. Baela wanted to believe what Ser Kevan was saying, but it very well could be a trap. She felt her sister's hand lightly touch upon her shoulder, the two armored sisters sharing a moment together, before Rhaenyra moved forward, her shield still held at the ready, but her sword sheathed.
"I am Princess Rhaenyra, Ser Kevan. You ask alot of me... so tell me, how can I trust you, when I know so very little about you, let alone your liege lord. Your cousin, our Great-Uncle, claims the throne through more distant relations than my own, than my sister as well." She paused, motioning Ser Trevan and Lord Buckwell to her side. Together, they walked further out towards the Crakehall men. "Come forward if you speak truthfully, let us march forth with our own champions, and speak as equals then. You wish for me to use my dragons to help you, then so be it, convince me... prove to me helping you is the better path to walk, as opposed to following that spoiled brat Aerys... son of the Mad Prince Daenys." She raised her visor, to show her beautiful, picturesque face, and to allow her to breathe easier. The damn armor was stiffling.
Kevan gulped quietly at the thought of being anywere near a Dragon.... though seeing Rhaenyra certainly alleviated that fear quite a bit. He exhaled slowly, moving his hands to his own helmet as he stepped forward, Ser Parren his Guard Captain stepping with him. He quickly cleared his throat after removing his helmet, his dirty blonde hair was longer than he regularly kept it, and he had it pulled into a small ponytail at the back of his head as not to get caught in the armor. His own ordinarily clean and well kempt face had not gotten through the fight so clean, specks and streaks of blood that had slipped through his helmet could be seen, but otherwise he appeared unharmed, his features more smooth than most of the rest of his family, "Of course, Princess Rhaenyra, I did not think you were some... easily convinced fool no, what would you have me do? To prove that our way, helping the Westerlands is the correct course of action?", he hoped it did not involve the Dragons... he did not want to be roasted tonight.
"I do not know what you could do to prove that your cause is more worthy. Words, actions, gifts, anything and everything, and nothing. You chose to speak to me, to hold your forces at bay, when you could have charged forth and brought nothing but bloodshed and death. Ser Kevan, blood of the Crakehall family, blood of my blood, you have to look within yourself to find the right answer." Rhaenyra spoke firmly, having placed her shield upon her back. She was now perhaps fifteen feet from Ser Kevan. He was handsome, even when dishevled. She shook her head, focusing back to the task at hand. "I could turn on those who wish to see Aerys ascend the throne, I could burn them in the bathing fires of our dragons, or I could just as easily burn you... why should I fight with you. Better yet, why should I fight at all? What is to stop me and my forces from leaving the field of battle all together? Tell me Ser Kevan... what would you do? What will you do?" She sighed, and then smiled at the Crakehall man, "What do you say?"
Kevan thought... what could he offer her? She had gold... Seven Hells she had a dragon... what did he have... then it hit him. "Why... I offer you the Westerlands! And Casterly Rock.", this was it, his last chance to perhaps not be burned to death by a beautiful Targaryen woman... he mused that they seemed to have a habit of doing that, "If the Westermen take Kings Landing, Tyget will ascend to the throne. If this comes to pass Tywin joins him here as his heir, and as will his brother Gerald... with this, Casterly Rock will fall to Tyget's second in line.", Kevan exhaled slowly, dropping to his knee and bowing his head, "Me. Side with us, and you will be made wardeness of the Westerlands... if you help us in taking the city, and of course, marrying the the future Warden of the West.", this was the moment... she was either about to burn him to death or accept his offer... somehow both terrified him though in completely different ways and for utterly different reasons.
Rhaenyra took a step back, completely caught off guard by this offer. Ser Kevan, or rather, Lord Kevan, should fate come to pass on the side of the Crakehalls, would become Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock, and more. She had visited the Westerlands before, seens its beauty and the endless expanses of wealth. The sun always set upon the West it was said... but these were uncertainties, mere promises offered by men to hopefully garner the love and support of women. Gifts, promises, and more, this was something Rhaenyra was accustomed to. But, truth be told, such a gift, such a prize, was a worthy one indeed. Rhaenyra pondered the words that Ser Kevan said, looking at him with a curious, if not inquisitive stare.
Baela walked forth, to stand beside her own sister, looking at her with a sisters care and compassion. Ser Kevan offered much, he spoke of such things that only a few could ever offer up. She could tell that her sister was unsure, that she was unsure of what to make of what Ser Kevan had said. Lord Tyget was farther from the throne than both her and Rhanyra were, his claim shaky at best. The Westermen teamed outside the walls, their force flooding through the breaches. She could try and fight, to allow Aerys to take the throne, for his corrupted blood to continue onwards. She and Rhaenyra could do as they were commanded by the son of a Mad Prince, to follow the orders of Aerys II reborn, Aerys III. Baela looked back to her sister, placing her hand upon her shoulder. In a low tone, spoke ever so softly, "Do what you think is best, what your heart tells you." She smiled, before returning to the ranks of the Crownlanders.
Rhaenyra nodded, listening to her sister. She then looked to Ser Trevan, with his own striking features, then to Lord Buckwell, and from him, to the rest of the Crownlanders gathered there. She knew that Aerys must not be allowed to ascend the throne to take it for himself, for if he did, a new rain of terror like that of Aerys II would begin again, no doubt eclipsing his forbears, if not even that of the War of the Five Kings. Her gaze wandered back to Ser Kevan, her eyes meeting his own. Perhaps it was foolish bravery, or perdition, but whatever it was, she walked forward to stand within arms length of Ser Kevan. She offered her hand out for him to take, allowing him to rise to his feet should he take the offer.
It was here that she spoke her mind, for better or for worse. "I will take no part in the war of your cousin, my Great Uncle. But I will not hinder either. And thus... I offer a third option, perhaps a gift to both you, to Lord Crakehall, and to Aerys as well. I mean to leave Westeros, to sail far from here... and let those who wish to take that cursed Iron Throne for themselves. You will live to see another day. But, I will leave you with but a small concession. The gates of the city, the ones you've not taken, along with the walls... I mean to burn them... to burn the men that hold them, and forever show I am no friend of Aerys. Take this opportunity to rush the city... for you will not see me, or my forces, for a long time to come."
Kevan felt quite a bit of tension leave his body as Rhaenyra spoke, so he wouldn't be burned to death tonight... certainly a start. He took her hand as offered, and brought himself to his feet, looking into Rhaenyra's violet eyes, "Well Princess Rheanyra that... is more than alright. Though... leave Westeros? I... cannot say I see the point in this but... if that is the path you choose to walk then so be it. If that is where you and your sister go... regardless I will be certain that Tyget knows your role in tonights events.", Kevan was certainly happy to be alive, if slightly disheartened his proposal seemed to have been rejected... it had been a hell of a long shot though.
Rhaenyra pulled Ser Kevan close to her, to where they were but inches apart... she looked into his eyes, her violet gaze transfixed with his own. She wondered what he thought, what more there was to Ser Kevan Crakehall. "Westeros is my home, to the end... Ser Kevan, never forget that. You are an honorable man, in a city and land of thieves and liars." She smiled, leaning in to lay a light gentle kiss upon Kevan's right cheek. "I follow the path of my forbear before me, Daemon Targaryen. He chose to leave Westeros for the Stepstones, and I will do the same. I will be a Queen in my own right, even if that means I must carve out my own kingdom. Tell your cousin, my Great-Uncle, when you see him, that Westeros is but a short distance for a dragon to fly. And send him our love, that of his nieces." She smiled once more, before speaking a lower, whipsered tone. "Should you yearn for more than being a Lord, come find me... come to the Stepstones, and find me." She kissed Ser Kevan once more, this time on his left cheek.
"I must ride now, and my men must make for the docks. Keep well away from the walls and gates... dragon fire cleanses all." Rhaenyra backed up, bowing her head, before turning to walk away, and towards the Dragon Pit. She beckoned her champions to follow her, along with Baela falling in step alongside her as well. Their mission was clear... and they would do whatever it took to complete that mission.
Kevan was a bit surprised at being pulled so close to Rhaenyra to say the least, not that he was complaining. He enjoyed her kisses certainly, chaste as they were, and accepted her praise of him as honourable. Her whispered offer sent a shiver down Kevan's spine, and he could not say he was not disapointed at her leaving. Regardless, as she marched away he bowed low, calling after her, "Very well Princess Rhaenyra, I will give King Tyget your regards. And... I will consider your offer. Good luck!", with that Kevan turned to his men and ordered them back, meeting back up with those who had been in combat with the Reachlanders and fighting their way back... the show was about to begin.
Kevan needed to get as close to the main Crakehall forces as possible, they had already taken several gates, so he made his way to the nearest. The streets were in chaos, sellswords and Reachmen tangled with Crakehall men and eachother, blood ran freely through the gutters and bodies were piling up. Kevan and his houseguard cut down more than a few of both Reachlanders and Sellswords as they went, Kevan finished slicing through some poor Essosi bastard at the neck, his precious lifeblood spilling out across his armor and the cobblestones. He couldn't help but look up at the Red Keep briefly, no smoke yet... perhaps those inside had handled whatever force had caused all the inner turmoil and were now learning about the attack on the walls. Kevan looked to the tall walls, he could see a few of the siege towers as they reached them... and it hit him... this was about to be the first time Kings Landing was succesfully sieged in history... and his family was going to be the ones who did it. He swelled with pride at this thought, and glanced about the skys, trying to see if the sisters had yet begun they're attack.
The Dragon Pit, readying for flight
Rhaenyra and Baela stood face to face, looking at one another as they readied themselves for their flight. The two double checked everything, making sure to have everything they would need not only for the chaos they were going to unleash, but the long mad flight they'd have to make to get as far away from King's Landing and Westeros as possible. Baela twirled her sword twirled her sword, checking the majesty of it all, before sheathing it properly. The Targaryen family blades were works of art, and to have one of them, well, that was a great boon to them. Rhaenyra's blade was no less magnificent, having been reworked and reforged to look like a Targaryen blade, through and through, but perhaps not as storied as the elder two.
Their dragons were free from their pens, snorting and stretching in unbridled excitement. These two dragons were far younger than the great black dread who sulked in the farthest pen of the Dragon Pit, Drogon glared at them, his searing red orange eyes watching their every moment. Rhaenyra could not help but feel unsettled by the sight of such a massive beast, even if it was the dragon that helped spawn her very own. Should Aerys get amount this creature, it would not be good, not in the least. Perhaps their only saving grace would be their smaller size afforded them a slight edge in sppe in speed and manuverability, but that was only if they were to face such a demon in the skies of battle. She shook her head, as she looked back to her sister, Baela.
"Are you sure about this? Its... its not too late to go back." Rhaenyra asked softly, just wanting to be sure that the path she and her sister, along with all the Northern Crownlanders were about to embark upon was the right one. Baela set her food pack down, turning to look at Rhaenyra, smiling her ever confident smile. "Baela, please, just tell me one more time, what we we are going to do, that this path that I walk is the right one." Rhaenyra's tone was concerned, as though she were having cold feet now, or rather, second guessing herself. She moved away from Visaxes to stand by Jadefyre and Baela.
"Rhaenyra... sister, let not your doubts and fears cloud your heart. You are doing what is needed to be done in order to prevent a mad man from taking control of Westeros, or, at the very least, making it harder for that prick to take control. He is bad news, almost as bad as Tygett. But we have to look out for ourselves, for our own kin and subjects. Why else would we have used all our wealth and power to ensure that as many people as we could spare onto ships, and sailing for the Stepstones?" Baela sighed, adjusting her armor to where it fit more comfortably. She turned to look at Jadefyre, lightly touching the dragon's side. "Rhae, look into your heart, and you will know what we do is right, that no matter what happens, we did the more honorable and noble action, even if no one can see it right now. Let Aerys have his stupid throne, let us see if he can even keep it, let alone run a Kingdom. I love you sister, and together, we can overcome anything. Now, lets ride." Baela leapt up, grabbing onto the sadle of Jadefyre, and pulling herself up.
"Lets not keep these bastards waiting? I think it is high time we showed the world what happens when you defy the will of the Dragon, for even a female dragon is just as deadly as the male, if not more so." She smiled, letting out a soft peel of girlish laughter, before fixing her visor shut. Baela shooed Rhaenyra away, towards her own dragon, as she directed Jadefyre to start walking out of the Dragon Pit.
Rhaenyra looked at Baela, feeling more confident and assured in her resolve to lay waste to the walls and gates of King's Landing. Baela was the battle born leader, while Rhaenyra was more of a statesman, but right now, all that was needed were dragon riders, two women who were willing to risk it all for the greater good, or so they though in their minds. She watched Jadefyre and Baela move out of the Dragon Pit, and out into the sun and cobblestones of the square. The dragon and its rider glistened in the sunlight, the emerald and jades of the dragon, and the black and red of its rider. The sight was as if it were something from a storied tale of times long past. Sighing, Rhaenyra mouthed one last prayer, looking back at Drogon, before rushing to mount Visaxes. She soon made her way out into the courtyard that dominated the area around the Dragon Pit, feeling warmer already in the sunlight of the new day.
Ser Trevan watched both Princesses guide their dragon out of the dimness of the Dragon Pit and into the square. Both beasts were magnificent, glowing brightly in the sunlight, the sun's warming rays reflecting and refracting in an array of colors. The young knight watched as he liege ladies bantered back and forth, watching them speak to one another, how they were so... so perfect and amazing. They were like goddesses decended from the heavens, sent by the Seven to rectify all that had been wrong in the world. He had seen Aerys III for himself, and like the princesses, was not impressed, nor did he trust the little sod. It was in this quiet self though that Rhaenyra spoke out to him, beckoning him close.
"Ser Trevan... you will have the honor of sealing the porticullis of the Dragon Pit. I want you to jam it shut... then you are to make for the docks... you will have ten minutes tops, before we take to the skies, and cleanse this infection that plagues the city. Lord Buckwell, Rykker, take everyone but Ser Trevan and nine others, ride hard, ride fast, and make for the docks. Take command of the fleet, and head for the pirate harbor of Bloodstone. We will make our home their, and wrest it from the filthy blighted bastards who currently control it. Like Daemon Targaryen before us, we will not suffer to live under the rule of a bastard who does not recongize us nor our worth to the Realm. Long live the Targaryen rule!" She exclaimed, turning to lead her dragon out of the way. They would have little to no time, but if no one held them up, they could escape and be long gone before anyone bothered to look for them.
Ser Trevan picked out his nine men, all of them knowing that they very well may not escape the city, should they be caught in their dash from the Dragon Pit to the Docks, clear on the other side of the city. The remainder of the Crownlanders rushed off to secure the docks, under the command of Lord Rykker, and Lord Buckwell his second. They perhaps had it easy, but at least in Ser Trevan's amethyst eyes, he would be doing a great honor to the Targaryen Princessess. As he watched his fellow soldiers depart, Rhaenyra and Baela did their last checks, getting their dragons ready for flight. The two creatures seemed giddy, as if they could not wait to finally be free of the ground, and on their way to the heavens above.
He turned his gaze back to the porticullis that could partially seal the Dragon Pit. Aside from a postern door, this massive gate was the only way in or out of the ancestral home of Targaryen dragons. With no time to waste, Ser Trevan rushed inside with his hand picked team. They set to the work at hand, rushing to get the porticullis sealed as best they could, and hamper it from being opened, at least long enough to buy them time to escape. The ten men let the massive metal and wooden porticullis come crashing down, cutting a few ropes that served to make raising the massive thing easier, and then hacking away at the wooden spindles that held the chains of the raising mechanisms. The jammed their spears into the gaps between the chains, smashing crates and barrels to create debris to slow the unjamming process.
Ser Trevan looked out the porticullis, watching in awe as both sisters took flight, their massive dragons, who were both dwarfed by the black dread that sulked in the farthest pen, leaping from the ground to take flight, the wings flapping and kicking up dust and hay, sending it everywhere. He turned away, motioning to his men that they were done, they could do no more to hamper the raising process of the porticullis. They all rushed out the postern door, slamming it shut, and jamming its lock with a sword. Ser Trevan followed the men, running to their waiting horses, and mounting up. The wooden doors still stood open, but little would be gained in closing them, and so, he wheeled his horse around, grabbing a Tyrell banner that had been left behind, and charging at the head of his ten man squad away and down a side street, making all due haste for the harbor.
The Skies above King's Landing
Rhaenyra and Baela now circled above the dragon pit, warming their dragons up for the trials to come. They watched as Ser Trevan rushed out of the Dragon Pit, watched as he waved up at them, and then rode off with the remaining Crownlanders in this section of the city. Anyone who was not at the harbor by the time the ships shoved off, was either wounded, dying, or dead, and they could not be helped. Rhaenyra closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of the fresh air from high above the city, free of all its stenches and odors. The wind rushed around her, tugging at her body, flowing through the cracks and crevices of her armor, into her visor and into her hair. She smiled, finally feeling free for the first time in a long while.
Baela looked across the way at her sister and her dragon. The two were easing into their flight, their manuvers lazy and without risk. She laughed, watching her sister just enjoy being in the air, being free of the ground and the world below her. Baela's gaze turned to the world around her, to the Red Keep, to the walls of King's Landing, and to the city below. It was a massive sprawling urban city, that dominated much of the land that the eye could see. The Crakehalls had many of their siege engines either at the walls, or almost upon them. Vicious fighting was taking place at the walls and gates of King's Landing. To the Red Keep, the smoke was dying down, no doubt a sign that the sellswords had been all but defeated. To the city center, Crakehall forces duked it out with Goldcloaks and Tyrell forces, while much of the Western Edge of the City was aflame.
Baela could see sporadic fighting towards the South, perhaps outriders or scouts who were harrassing the defenses by the harbor and River Gate. She wheeled her dragon over, allowing her to circle about the Dragon Pit once more. It was now or never she thought, as she looked over at her sister.
Rhaenyra finally returned to herself, letting the ease and calm go, to be replaced by the weight of her duty and mission sink in. The walls and gates would burn, and burn, and burn. She looked over to Baela, waving at her, and then pointing to the Northern edge of the city, and in particular, the Dragon Gate. Then she pointed at Baela, and then to the Southern edge of the city, to the King's Gate. They had gone over their plan during the night before, and once more in the Dragon Pit. They nodded to one another, gesturing good luck to one another, and then veered off, flying towards their seperate targets.
Rhaenyra would start in the North, burning everything from the Dragon Gate to the Gate of the Gods. Baela in the South, burning from the King's Gate to the Gate of the Gods. They'd burn the gates, the watch towers, the very walls themselves, leaving nothing unscathed from the cleansing flames of their dragons. Each dragon and its rider cast a shadow on the city below them, as the flew to their starting points, taking their time to get there, and then to circle for the time it took to recite a prayer for the Seven, and perhaps for themselves, while they each steeled themselves for what was to come.
Ser Trevan and his men was perhaps a mile from the harbor, looking high into the sky to see both dragons racing in seperate directions. He cursed, knowing it would all begin soon, needing to make better time, needing to get to the safety of the ships, and the open ocean now, rather than later. He dumped his shield and spare spear, tossing his helm aside, knowing every pound dropped would make it easier for his mount to run. The others did the same, dumping spare gear, anything that would not be needed. Hell, he even tossed his saddlebags, riding as light as they all could. But still, would it be fast enough?
As he looked to the skies once more, he heard the roars of the dragons, and new it had begun, hell was being unleashed unto the world around him, the fires and flames of demons, of nightmares, of dragons, were being expelled into the world, let loose onto those foolish enough to be caught in the gouts of flame. The very air changed, the smell, the taste, the feel of it, from a normal, albeit smoky, summer day, to that of a hellishly hot summer, one of oppressive heat and smoke, and the smell of burning everything. Wood, stone, metal, and worse, flesh... it filled the air in an acrid miasma, a smoke the blotted out the sun, causing Ser Trevan to puke his breakfast up as he rode... drawing ever closer to the harbor, and freedom.
Lord Rykker looked on from the deck of his ship, watching as the dragons began to lay waste to the walls of King's Landing, ingniting the very stones that made them on fire, turning the red walls into glowing red walls, the stones themselves seeming to move. He looked away, knowing full well that many a man and woman would be engulfed in those flames, that people, both good and bad, would die today, but... no, the cost was worth it, this had to be done. You had to cull the herd from time to time, in order to prevent diesease from spreading, and that diesease was Aerys, the fatal spawn of madness. He turned to the deck crew, giving the order for them to shove off, weigh anchor. Ser Trevan was not here... but he could not wait any longer, less he jeporadize so much more.
The few remaining warhsips of the Crownlander fleet began to weigh their anchors, pulling from the docks and muddy shoreline, readying their sails to make all due haste to get the hell out of King's Landing. Many of the ships had already sailed, making way for the Blackwater bay, and the freedom of the Narrow Sea. Only Lord Crabb's ship remained, tethered to the docks taking on the last few soldiers and refugees that it could hold. Lord Crabb stood by the wheel, looking out at the city as it burned, watching the towers, both those of the defenders, and those of the besiegers, burning, watching the flames lick up and down the walls, across the houes, watching the reds and oranges create billowing clouds of black smoke. There was nothing he could do, he knew this, but he surely hope that the dragons killed as many Crakehall bastards as they could.
Ser Trevan finally galloped into the harbor, passing through the River Gate. He tossed the Tyrell banner aside, letting it fall into the mud of the river side. He saw that one ship remained, one out of the many that had been there this morning. He galloped faster, pushing his horse as hard as he could go, making for the gangplank. He saw Lord Crabb, standing with his household guards, watching the work of the Princesses. He too had seen that work, felt it too, but none of that mattered now, when his salvation was so close, so very close at hand. He rode on, waving his right hand at Lord Crabb, to signal him to wait a bit longer... just enough for him and the other six to make it aboard. Sadly, three men had been cut down in combat, but their sacrifices allowed the rest to escape.
Rhaenyra wheeled about for another pass. She could feel the heat of Visaxes, the flames rushing from his mouth. She looked down, looking at the rising smoke and flames of the carnage she was creating. She shook hear head, trying to not think of all those that had been burned alive, and all those who would die from the flames later. She looked ahead, seeing that her sister had nearly reached the Gate of The Gods, and that the walls to the West and South were burning fiercely. She refocused at what she was doing, guiding Visaxes to finish his pass of the wall section between the Old Gate and the Gate of the Gods. The wooden siege tower nearest to Rhaenyra belched smoke and flames, before exploding from the imense heat. She then pulled up, having Visaxes fly high once more, out of the range of any enemy scorpions that could harm her.
Baela watched her sister work, smiling within her helm as she circled around to make her first pass on the Gate of Gods. It was shut tight, but that'd do little to stop dragon flames. Jadefyre let loose a terrifying roar, before letting loose a massive stream of flames that engulfed the entire front of the gate, and its towers. She did not linger long, peeling away to gain altitude and distance before passing at the gate again. It was the last target, and would allow for every gate to be entered and exited freely, save the Iron Gate and the River Gate, which had not been touched. She looked down, to see Rhaenyra and Visaxes attacking the gate now, spitting flame at the stone, metal, and wood that protected the city. It was a sight to see, from this high up, to watch a dragon wreak its destruction.
Rhaenyra pushed the reigns forward, causing Visaxes to roar and spout more flames. He enjoyed this, she could tell. He had been cooped up too long, been used for show, rather than tell, so to speak. Still, she had to be careful, less a lucky archer or crossbowman scored a hit on her. She pulled away, leaving the flaming torrent of the Gate of Gods to allow Baela to make another pass. She pushed Visaxes, the dragon roar in anger, as he flew higher. No doubt he wished to feast upon the burning flesh... but there was no time for that. She patted Visaxes on his neck, calling out to the dragon, "There will be time for that later, be patient for now... let us finish cleansing the city Visaxes."
By now, Baela had finished her pass... and all that was left was for both of them to complete a simultaneous pass of the Gate of Gods, to leave it alight for many hours to come. Together, they dove, spouting their flames from under, the gouts of dragonfire setting the Gate of Gods awash in flames, engulfing the towers, the gatehouse, and the gate itself with cleansing, burning anyone within, and around it. The sisters, one atop a red dragon, the other atop a green, nodded to one another, and made for the sea, making for their ships that were sailing away from Westeros, and to the unknown. They flew over King's Landing, looking down at the smoking walls and towers, looking at the broken gates, and then to eachother. They could not turn back now, and it was fate's turn to decide what was going to happen now.
Rhaenyra and Baela Targaryen flew up and over the Red Keep, and out to the Blackwater Bay, making their way East, and then South, to meet up with the bulk of their fleet, watching over the few stragglers, who had just finished leaving the harbor, and were setting sail. Rhaenyra hoped Ser Trevan had made it to safety, but only time would tell who would make it to the Stepstones, and who would have to pay the heavy cost of their actions back in Westeros. She hoped that their messages to the Northern Crownlands had been heeded, and that when everyone started looking for them, they would find empty castles, holdfasts, and lands. The Northern Crownlands had chosen its path, and for better or worse, sought to bring life anew to Daemon Targaryen's old fallen kingdom, the Kingdom of the Stepstones.
((Collab with @agentmanatee))