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EIGHT;
『 DRACARYS 』

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ㅤ IT HAS BEEN FOURTEEN DAYS SINCE THE SOLDIERS ALL ACROSS WESTEROS CLIMBED UPON THE SHIPS. Yesterday, the storming of the capital began. Men fighting men, Blacks fighting Greens. Daemon Targaryen had previously overturned Harrenhal to the Blacks, which has insighted even more chaos. Lord Corlys Velaryon has closed off Blackwater Bay, resulting in the trade to King's Landing being cut off almost entirely.

      Vermithor has been mounted by a large man named Hugh, whom of which will ride him into battle. Sheepstealer has been claimed by a strange woman named Nettles, who somehow managed to claim the muddy dragon, despite now having any direct ties to dragon rider blood. Silverwing has been mounted by a friend of Hugh, called Ulf White. Every riderless dragon in Dragonstone, aside from the Cannibal, has been claimed.

      The new men, and women, who have become dragon riders, have been working under the advised command of Jacaerys Velaryon in order to learn their skills. Dragon mounts have been created by the blacksmiths, fit for every dragon and their rider. The young prince, despite his age, has taught surprisingly well. The knowledge of his skill surpasses far beyond what one may think it to. He has studied long and hard in the arts of dragons, and finally his master studies can be seen by all of those around.

     The Blacks have held Harrenhal for some time now. It was an assault led by Daemon Targaryen, and an easy win. He flew in on Caraxes, and with few casualties, managed to claim it. This was the first time that the Greens truly understood the gravity of the situation. They realized that who they are fighting actually stands a chance against them.

Princess Rhaenys and the beloved dragon Meleys suffered at the hands of Sunfyre and Vhagar, ridden by King Aegon and Prince Aemond. During the battle at Rook's Rest, Meleys was shot down by crossbows. She fought valiantly against Sunfyre and Vhagar, but outnumbered and underpowered, the princess and her dragon went down. Vhagar rose again quickly, mostly unharmed, but Sunfyre managed to rise again, having half of his wing torn off from the fight.

Having been hurt from the battle and his recent poisoning, Aemond has assumed the role of Protector of the Realm whilst his brother battles his wounds.

With Ser Criston Cole and Aemond Targaryen away at Harrenhal, taking it back, Rhaenyra has decided now is the time to officially declare war upon the Greens. She will use whatever forces necessary in order to do so.

      "You have taught them well, my son," Rhaenyra says to the prince standing in her study. "Tonight, Daemon, yourself, and Cerilla will fly with me to King's Landing so that we may take the capital." She explains. The prince nods and his eyes wander to Cerilla, who stands beside him, so close their arms nearly touch.

"Your dragon seeds will stay here at Dragonstone to defend it. We ride when the moon is at its highest. Be prepared." The words of the Queen slice the air. The dragon seeds, the new claimers of the once wild dragons of Dragonstone, will stay behind to defend. This means they will only have four dragons to take down the city, which could be done.

Prince Jacaerys and Princess Cerilla leave the study, off to their separate chambers to ready themselves for the looming battle. Special attire has been made by the sewers specifically for Cerilla. They have made the princess her very own riding gear, molded specially for her body. She had been wearing Queen Rhaenyra's old dragon riding attire, that fit her oddly. The Queen took note of this and had an outfit made especially for her.

It is mostly black, with gold detailing on the shoulders and neck, a sign of the House Martell. The colors mold together beautifully. The princess straps on her belt and sheathes her sword into one end and the dagger into the other. She pulls on her riding boots and ties her hair back into a messy bun, to keep the hair out of her face while she flies. Cerilla tries not to keep her mind focused on what is to come, but it's difficult not to.

For many nights now, ever since the soldiers mounted the ships, the princess has experienced vivid dreams of what her mind thinks might be happening in the capital. Men dying, swords flying, blood spilling, dragons roaring. Her mind seems to paint a newer, more vivid picture of this ever night when she closes her eyes. The nightmares only grow more powerful by the second.

Suddenly, there is a knock at her door. The princess nearly jumps out of her skin, having been so lost thinking in her own reflection. She gets up and faces the door. Her voice echoes across the room as she tells the individual to enter.

The prince steps inside, shutting the door behind himself. He crosses the room to the princess and takes her hands in his. He can see clearly the fear on her face, even though she tries to hide it. She is fighting not only for the Queen, but for her own people. If the Blacks fall to the Greens, Dorne will be ransacked by the Greens and their forces, since they had sworn allegiance to Rhaenyra.

"You believe that style fit to keep the hair from your face?" The prince asks, raising an eyebrow. Cerilla tilts her head.

"Indeed," she replies. "It has done so many times before. It may seem loose, but it is actually quite good." She explains. The prince shakes his head and takes her shoulders, pressing her down. She takes. Seat at the stool opposite of her vanity.

Jacaerys pulls her hair out of the faulty style and runs his fingers through the knots. Cerilla's eyes flutter closed at his touch. He separates her dark hair into three sections, then crosses then strands over one another. He creates a long braid trailing all the way down her back. Once he is finished, he rests the braid over her shoulder. Cerilla looks at it through the mirror, shocked by his skill.

"The Targaryens have worn braids through many battles," he explains, catching her eyes through the mirror. "Despite all the reading I may do, I'm not entirely sure why they do this. A sign of good fortune, perhaps." He suggests. Cerilla grins at him through the foggy glass.

"I'm not a Targaryen." She replies. The prince shakes his head.

"No," he answers. "But you will be married to one." He places his hands on either of her shoulders. She smiles even brighter, despite the fact that the two of them are about to ride into a gripping battle. She turns to face him and he plants a lingering kiss on her forehead.

Jacaerys peers through the window on the opposite wall and a frown crosses his face. The moon has almost reached its highest point in the sky, which means they must take to the sky and ride for King's Landing. This will be the battle that either puts Rhaenyra on the Iron Throne, or the battle that kills them all. He knows this much. The princess takes his hand, as she can see the concern displayed on his face.

Silently, the two walk hand in hand through the empty halls toward the courtyard. When the doors are pushed open by the knights, the prince and the princess immediately see the bodies of Syrax and Caraxes, already mounted and ready to depart. At the sight of the Queen, Cerilla tries to drop her hand from Jace's, but he keeps his grip firm.

The prince has previously, just days before, told his mother of his relations with the princess. She was not the most joyous at first, considering his previous arrangement, but after realizing just how happy he is with the princess Cerilla, she gave her blessing. Cerilla still fidgets anytime he shows the slightest amount of affection towards her whenever his mother is around.

The two of them walk into the courtyard. Caraxes screeches at the sight of them. Queen Rhaenyra tips her head in greeting and the prince and princess return it back to her. They walk to the bridge, far enough away for the dragons to land without being congested in the courtyard. They close their eyes and call upon their faithful rides.

Due to Jacaerys' teachings, the princess has learned a number of things, including how to call Grey Ghost without even having to say a word. He also helped the princess to find the gut feeling, as it is called, the feeling that helps indicate where your dragon is and how they are feeling. It's a sort of navigation pointed by your gut instincts.

Within minutes, both Vermax and Grey Ghost appear in the sky. Under the pale moonlight, Grey Ghost's scales look almost a light blue. The two dragons fly to the bridge, landing opposite of one another. Cerilla's hand slips from Jacaerys' hand as she walks to her dragon. Before she manages to get further than an inch, the prince grabs her hand, spinning Cerilla back towards him.

He goes in for a kiss, but Cerilla pulls back, horrified. "Your mother-" she begins to say.

He shakes his head. "Grey Ghost is blocking her line of sight," she says. "And anyways, who cares? She is aware of where my affections lie." He takes a step forward and plants his lips to hers. Cerilla falls immediately into his spell. She takes his jaw in her hands and holds the bone tightly. His hands rest on her waist, her hips. The kiss lasts only a few heartbeats before the princess pulls away, still unsure of the situation.

Jacaerys shoots her a grin as she walks off, mounting her dragon. She has also perfected mounting Grey Ghost. She climbs two steps onto the bone of his wing- it is harmful to a dragon- then swings her leg around and she is mounted. After about two days of practice, both the princess and her dragon mastered the act. She pulls on the mount and turns Grey Ghost the other way, facing Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon.

Syrax and Rhaenyra take off first. The golden dragon shimmers beneath the moonlight. Daemon and Caraxes fly off next. The long-necked dragon moves gracefully through the sky. Cerilla and Grey Ghost are the next to depart. The misty dragons disappears into the clouds. Finally, Jacaerys and Vermax take to the sky. The green dragon seems to squeal with excitement as they fly off, following the line of dragons.

The night is dark and dreary on Dragonstone. The four dragons drift off into the sky. Vermax eventually catches up with Grey Ghost and the two of them fly side by side. Cerilla looks over to Jacaerys, who keeps his face pointed in the direction they are flying. She rolls her eyes at him, despite the fact that she has yet to look over. She faces forward again, and that is when Jace looks over, once again taking in her beauty.

-ˋˏ ༻☼༺ ˎˊ-

WITHIN THE FIRST SIGNS OF DAYBREAK, THE FOUR DRAGONS AND THEIR RIDERS MAKE IT TO THE OUTSKIRTS OF KING'S LANDING. Immediately, the princess sees the bodies piled on top of one another. The further they fly into the capital, the more clear the signs of war become. By the time they reach the gates to the city, that have been barred, not allowing any commoners to flee through the gates to the Red Keep, it becomes clear who is winning this battle.

The Blacks.

As they fly past the city of red roofs, housing the commoners, the princess can't help but wonder how fearful those people are, cowering behind their boarded up windows, hugging their children and lovers close. She winces at the idea and turns her head back around, facing the Keep itself. It is larger and even more grand than she thought possible. The tower on the edge of the Keep glistens under the first signs of daylight.

The four of them land in the courtyard between the path up to the Keep and the gate, which has been closed. An assembly of Gold Cloaks have lined up at the gate, giving it double the amount of protection to anyone who may try and break inside. The restless men, the survivors who have made it this far off the fleet and through the battlefield, rally on the other side of the gate, prodding at it with weapons. Daemon steps forward on Caraxes, causing every single one of the Gold Cloaks in the line to turn around.

"I was once the commander of the Gold Cloaks," his voice can be heard so clearly that even the men on the other side of the gate quiet down. "Those of you who are still loyal to me, surrender now, to your True Queen. Those of you who are not may burn."

The armored men appear to share horrified looks with one another. One by one, some men in the line throw down their weapons and take to one knee, bowing their heads. The line consists of about fifty men, though only about nine of them surrender what little dignity they have left. Daemon raises his hand and signals forward.

The surrendering men ride to their feet and flee to the opposite wall, where they pin themselves against the brick, bracing themselves for the fire that is to come. Daemon's hand wraps firmly around the dragon mourn. Caraxes mouth falls open, knowing what is to come.

"Dracarys!" He yells. Fire. Instantly, a surge of hot fire escapes from the dragon throat. The fire is so powerful, so deadly, it melts off the armor of the men within seconds. Their bodies turn to ashes on the ground. Caraxes steps forward, also burning the gate in his wake. Finally, Daemon pulls back and the dragon stops. The remaining soldiers pour through the destroyed gate, running through the courtyard and up the hill to the walls of the Red Keep, which will be sacked within the hour.

Queen Rhaenyra pushes Syrax forward, addressing the Gold Cloaks. "You now follow my command," she shouts from atop the golden scaled beauty. "Find dowager Queen Alicent and her children. Bring them to me. Alive." She demands. The men, perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of faithfulness, take off up the hill in a blur of armor. Cerilla and Jacaerys watch from the side of the courtyard as they run.

Queen Rhaenyra turns to face her son and Cerilla. "Fly to the northern harbor. Burn any shops departing from there. Any ship you burn will have traitors on it." She explains. Cerilla clenches her jaw at the command and nods. She and Grey Ghost take to the sky, followed closely by Jacaerys and Vermax. The northern harbor is in the city, where most commoners go for ships and boats.

They fly over the city, and as they do, women, children, and men alike run at the sight of the dragons, in pure fear. Their city is being attacked, they are scared. They do not have any power over what is being done.

Cerilla and Jace share a final scared look with one another as they make it to the harbor. Cerilla flies left and Jacaerys flies right. There are only eight ships leaving the harbor, but eight too many, eight ships fill of unloyal people. If they are fleeing, then they will never bow to Queen Rhaenyra. They are fleeing because their faith lies in King Aegon, the untrue king.

Cerilla has never killed with her own before. She has commanded troops to kill, or sent soldiers into wars to fight for her cause, but she has never been the firsthand cause of anyone's end. There is no turning back, she knows. She has sworn herself to Queen Rhaenyra and Queen Rhaenyra has commanded her to destroy any leaving ships. She must do so.

Cerilla inhales a deep breath as Grey Ghost flies over two ships sailing away. "Dracarys!" She yells. Her words are full of rage. Fire escapes from the jaws of Grey Ghost. The princess has never commanded the dragon to spit fire before, but now he does. She watches with wide eyes as the fire burns the two ships. The wood goes up in flames and the sails turn to ashes. Those who are smart jump from the sides, those who do not, are burned to death.

The princess looks up, to the other side of the water, where four ships burn under Jacaerys. He is circling Vermax around to destroy the other two now. She watches from the sky as the green dragon pours fire from his throat, destroying everything below him. Cerilla can barely watch. She wonders how many people she just killed. She wonders how many of them were women and children. She wonders how many of them feared for their lives the moment they saw her dragon in the sky. She wonders how many of them prayed to the gods to spare their souls. She turns her head up and looks to the sky. She is a soldier, not a weeper. She mustn't cry for the lives she has stolen.

She thinks of her mother and her brother, and how their lives ended at the hands of Aegon. She knows he stole their lives because they would not bow to him, but now she has stolen the lives of those who will not bow to the Queen. How does that make her any better than Aegon? It doesn't.

Jacaerys flies over the destruction once more, taking in everything. His mother gave him a command and he went through with it. The prince appears in front of Cerilla. Grey Ghost flaps his wings in the sky, but does not move. The princess can't bring herself to move.

"Cerilla, come, we must go." He calls. His voice swirls through the sky. She blinks, snapping out of her thoughts. She tightens her hand around the mount and follows Jace through the sky, back to the Keep. They land in the courtyard, which is deserted of all life. Rhaenyra and Daemon have taken their dragons to the entrance of the Keep, waiting outside the doors as their soldiers slaughter those inside.

Cerilla dismounts Grey Ghost and steadies herself on the gravel of the ground. Jacaerys hops off, too. The princess faces a wall, with her hand pressed against her mouth. Jacaerys steps behind her.

"Cerilla?" He says. She turns to face him, her eyes are outlined with tears. It has become too much. It all happened so fast. The horrors. She wishes for Rhaenyra to be Queen, truly she does, but she is not the kind of woman who can take lives as easily as others may be able to. They were simply just people fleeing because they were terrified of what would become of them. They didn't create any violence, they just wanted to run, to be safe.

Jacaerys pulls the princess into a hug, a tight one. Her head falls on his shoulder. His hands wrap around her back. Her hands do not move, staying limp at her sides. His hands grasp at the fabric of her riding gear. He does not wish for her to be hurt, to weep. She cries silently into his shoulder. She would never want to cry in front of Jacaerys, but it all became too much. She would never want to show him any weakness, but she has.

"Iyka, ñuha jorrāelagon," the prince whispers into her ear. "You will never have to take another life for as long as I live," he says. "I will make sure of it. "Nyke kivio." He goes between High Valyrian and the common tongue, as if wanting to keep some words cryptic and not understood by the princess. A silent promise, perhaps.

Perhaps one day the princess will kill again. But as of now, it brings too much pain.