Post by The Smith on May 25, 2009 23:04:00 GMT -5
The world was fire and blood and ice and cold. Screams rent the air as men were wounded, and some women too. Rhaenys was mounted on Elannyria, firing obsidian arrows at the Others, while the dragon shot deadly fire at the enemy. It was freezing North of the Wall and Rhaenys had been shivering in her wool and mail and plate, but that was before the dragon fire. She was sweating heavily now, partly with the heat and partly with the exertion of drawing her bow. Her fingers were sore with the constant action of firing arrow after arrow. They swooped low as they’d done half a hundred times already, to mazimise the impact of the fire and obsidian. Rhaenys caught the scene of something like burned meat and knew it was the flesh of the wights. She wrinkled her nose in disgust then screamed as Elannyria swooped too low. She thought she was going to die as the bright swords of the Others and the dead hands of the wights reached for her and the dragon. She flailed wildly with her bow in an attempt to beat them off.
“Up, Ellanyria!” Rhaenys screamed. “Up!”
The dragon roared and rose in the sky. Her cry sounded like she was in pain. Leaning forward, Rhaenys saw that the dragon’s face dripped blood, yet Ellanyria still shot a jet of fire at the Others as they attempted to hack at her tail. They climbed higher into the sky, Ellanyria still moaning and trying to claw at her face. She rocked in the sky and Rhaenys had to cling on for fear of losing her balance. She knew the dragon was badly hurt.
“Land, Ellanyria!” Rhaenys cried, then looked at the army below. “Get out of the way!”
The survivors of the defending army hurried to give her a landing place as best they could. Rhaenys whispered soothing words to Ellanyria as she guided the dragon down, urging her not to move too fast. Her heart was in her mouth as they landed heavily, Ellanyria still growling with pain. Rhaenys jumped off, shaken, and ran round to the dragon’s face. Where her eyes should have been was blood, running fast from several sword cuts. Rhaenys felt her heart contract in pity but she saw that the battle was still going and knew she could not stay to comfort for Ellanyria. Her mother and sisters had already claimed Becawyr and Rhodrys so she would have to fight on foot. She threw down her bow and drew her sword then ran back towards the battlefield. It wasn’t Valyrian Steel but it would serve.
Rhaenys saw one of her mother’s soldiers writhe in his death throes, clutching at his stomach an enemy sword had punched through his mail. Blood flowed between his fingers, down into the links of his mail and stained the snow a disgusting slushy red. She turned and stumbled across a headless body in the scale armour favoured by the Dornish, half an orange cloak still hanging from its shoulders. Jeyne Ladybright helped her right herself and the two of them looked towards the horde of Others. Many of them had been shot down by arrows of dragonglass and those lords and knights in possession of Valyrian Steel used their weapons to good effect, including Rhaenys’ mother Queen Saella. She looked up now to see Saella soaring overhead atop Becawyr, her favourite of the three Targaryen dragons. Saella had Blackfyre in her hand, the famed sword of Aegon the Conqueror. Rhaneys felt a stab of envy and pride. Gods willing, the sword would be hers once day. They had to live first, though.
“Let’s show those vile beasts that fire always beats the cold,” she said to Jeyne.
Rhaenys and her companion ran at the wights, while overhead Becawyr and Rhodrys shot fire from overhead. They had been men once, the wights. They looked like men still, in their ragged clothing, but it was the unnatural blue eyes that gave them away, that and the pale, grasping hands. Jeyne pointed out a wight in Baratheon livery, one of their allies killed and pressed into service of the unearthly Others. The wight came towards Rhaenys, while two others made for Jeyne. Rhaenys chopped at the dead thing and sliced off its hand. The wight wasn’t deterred. It continued to advance, grasping at her sword arm. Rhaenys sliced off its hand then stabbed it in the place where its heart would have been. It still didn‘t die, but struggled on the point of her sword like a landed fish. The princess shoved the wight away with one foot, whilst using both hands to yank her blade free. The dead blue eyes seemed to bear into her as the handless wight advanced once more. Rhaenys sliced its head off and then its legs and finally it crumpled. She let out a cry of victory and ran to aid Jeyne, cutting down one of the wights and chopping it to pieces while her friend pinned the other down long enough for her to do the same.
“Bastard creatures,” Jeyne grumbled. “I wish they died more easily.”
“So do we all,” Rhaenys agreed. “Where are Maekar and Talyn.”
Maekar was her cousin, a Blackfyre bastard and cousin to Rhaenys and her sisters. He was also a dear friend to Rhaenys as well as the captain of her bodyguard. Jeyne and Talyn made up the compliment, one a Dornishman the other a Braavosi. Rhaenys had long since given up trying to track her companions during the course of the battle.
“I lost them, princess,” Jeyne answered. “I haven‘t seen them in ages. Oh, Warrior help us! Talyn’s been cornered.”
Rhaenys followed her bodyguard’s pointing spear. The Braavosi was being backed against a heap of dead men by a group of wights. He fought bravely, his slender blade flickering back and forth, but doing little damage. Braavosi weapons were not made to destroy wights. Rhaenys beckoned to Jeyne and ran forward without hesitation. With sword and spear they cut a path through the enemy army towards Talyn. They didn’t stop to hack the wights to pieces, just fought through towards their companion. Talyn hailed her with a cry of “Princess“” There was no time for gratitude.
The Others and their henchmen were flagging under the onslaught of fire and steel but it wasn’t over yet. Rhaenys looked about for the biggest threat to her allies. As a princess, it was her duty to help rally the troops. She saw Selwyn Baratheon leading the ragged survivors of his army, and the Martell troops, as well as her mother’s own men. The world was alive with fire from Rhodrys and Becawyr. Rhaenys gloried in its light and heat yet still the cold blue eyes of the wights and the pale swords of the remaining Others sent fear shivering through her soul. She saw her mother, Saella, silver-gold hair streaming behind her as she rode Becawyr. Rhaenys let herself be swept away by the glory of the dragon fire before she led her guards and a few of her mother’s men at another group of wights. Their attack was savage as they started to hack the wights to pieces, aided by a few fiery arrows from surviving Westerosi archers.
It was then that it happened. Rhaenys saw a giant arrow seemingly made of ice launch from some fell device of the others. The arrow hit its target even as the laragest dragon ignited the great weapon. The icy missile caught the chest of Becawyr as she skimmed low over the head of the enemy troops and set them alight. The dragon cried out in pain, shot fire and careened down with Saella still on her back. The screams from the dragon were worse even from those she’d heard from Ellanyria. The battle seemed to stop as everyone, Others included, hurried to get out of the way. Rhaenys gasped with horror as Becawyr rolled over and plummeted into the snow, crushing Saella and a number of wights beneath her. They fell close to Rhaenys so she could hear the sickening crack of bones. She saw the awkward angle of the dragon’s neck and knew that Becawyr was dead. Of Saella there was no trace, Rhaenys knew with an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach that her mother was dead. Horrified, she ran forward to the dragon‘s body, while those around her resumed fighting. Overhead, Rhodrys continued to send hot flames at the remainder of the enemy host. Tears ran down Rhaenys’ face but she turned when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Maekar, roughly handsome and rough-voiced. He looked bone-weary but in his hand was the sword from which he took his name. Blackfyre.
“It’s yours now,” he said, pressing it into her hands. “You must rally the troops, my queen.”
Queen Rhaenys. She liked the sound of that, though there was no guarantee the lords of Westeros would accept her. The alliance had been between her mother and Selwyn. Still, she knew her duty was to save the kingdom. She glanced at the remnants of the enemy force. The Others and their wights had retreated to regroup and, doubtless, make a new attack. They seemed to have no concept that they were losing. Then again, the wights had no minds at all. That was all to the good, Rhaenys thought. They’d fight until they were utterly destroyed. She clasped her fingers around the sword hilt and raised her voice.
“People of Westeros, hear me! I am Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter to Queen Saella. I wield Blackfyre, the sword of Aegon the Conqueror. My mother has died to save you all. Help me honour her memory now by ridding Westeros of this foul horde that seeks to destroy us! Fire and Blood! Attack!”
She charged the Others without waiting to see if she was followed; she knew already that Maekar, Jeyne and Talyn would follow her without question, as would her mother’s men. Everyone else followed her anyway and battle cries filled the air. Chief among them were her own house words, ‘Fire and Blood‘. The remaining Others met their charge head on, wielding those ice-pale swords. They were a sorry sight, even with the last wights to bulk up their numbers.
Rhaenys hadn’t attempted to fight an Other before, though she’d shot a few with the obsidian arrows and watched the dragons burn many. She’d heard that Valyrian steel harmed them as well as fire and dragon glass bit was still amazed when her sword went through the Other like a knife through cheese. It crumpled to the ground. Rhaenys spun and decapitated another. Her bodyguards slew wight after wight while Rhaenys didn’t bother to count the Others who fell to her sword or to the Valyrian blades of other men. All she knew was the snow and the noise of battle and the dark figures with their icy swords. Her arm ached from swinging but she kept on fighting so long as the Others kept coming.
It felt like a lifetime but, eventually, their enemies were obliterated. Rhaenys stood panting in the snow, Blackfyre held loosely from her hand. She looked up to see Maekar standing nearby. He looked grim as he knelt before her in the sand.
“It’s over, my queen,” he said. “Westeros is yours now.”
“Hush, cousin, you’d best not call me ‘queen’ just yet,” she told him. “And get up. We must speak with Selwyn and the lords of Westeros before we make any assumptions.”
That prospect worried Rhaenys almost as much as the battle itself. She had a feeling that new terms would have to be hammered out for the continuation of the alliance with Selwyn Baratheon.
“Rally my sisters and our lords and captains, Maekar,” Rhaenys commanded. “I would speak with them before I approach King Selwyn.”
As he hurried to obey her, she headed towards the body of Becawyr and to search for her mother. Dead heroes must be paid their due.
+Legendary sword for Rhaenys
“Up, Ellanyria!” Rhaenys screamed. “Up!”
The dragon roared and rose in the sky. Her cry sounded like she was in pain. Leaning forward, Rhaenys saw that the dragon’s face dripped blood, yet Ellanyria still shot a jet of fire at the Others as they attempted to hack at her tail. They climbed higher into the sky, Ellanyria still moaning and trying to claw at her face. She rocked in the sky and Rhaenys had to cling on for fear of losing her balance. She knew the dragon was badly hurt.
“Land, Ellanyria!” Rhaenys cried, then looked at the army below. “Get out of the way!”
The survivors of the defending army hurried to give her a landing place as best they could. Rhaenys whispered soothing words to Ellanyria as she guided the dragon down, urging her not to move too fast. Her heart was in her mouth as they landed heavily, Ellanyria still growling with pain. Rhaenys jumped off, shaken, and ran round to the dragon’s face. Where her eyes should have been was blood, running fast from several sword cuts. Rhaenys felt her heart contract in pity but she saw that the battle was still going and knew she could not stay to comfort for Ellanyria. Her mother and sisters had already claimed Becawyr and Rhodrys so she would have to fight on foot. She threw down her bow and drew her sword then ran back towards the battlefield. It wasn’t Valyrian Steel but it would serve.
Rhaenys saw one of her mother’s soldiers writhe in his death throes, clutching at his stomach an enemy sword had punched through his mail. Blood flowed between his fingers, down into the links of his mail and stained the snow a disgusting slushy red. She turned and stumbled across a headless body in the scale armour favoured by the Dornish, half an orange cloak still hanging from its shoulders. Jeyne Ladybright helped her right herself and the two of them looked towards the horde of Others. Many of them had been shot down by arrows of dragonglass and those lords and knights in possession of Valyrian Steel used their weapons to good effect, including Rhaenys’ mother Queen Saella. She looked up now to see Saella soaring overhead atop Becawyr, her favourite of the three Targaryen dragons. Saella had Blackfyre in her hand, the famed sword of Aegon the Conqueror. Rhaneys felt a stab of envy and pride. Gods willing, the sword would be hers once day. They had to live first, though.
“Let’s show those vile beasts that fire always beats the cold,” she said to Jeyne.
Rhaenys and her companion ran at the wights, while overhead Becawyr and Rhodrys shot fire from overhead. They had been men once, the wights. They looked like men still, in their ragged clothing, but it was the unnatural blue eyes that gave them away, that and the pale, grasping hands. Jeyne pointed out a wight in Baratheon livery, one of their allies killed and pressed into service of the unearthly Others. The wight came towards Rhaenys, while two others made for Jeyne. Rhaenys chopped at the dead thing and sliced off its hand. The wight wasn’t deterred. It continued to advance, grasping at her sword arm. Rhaenys sliced off its hand then stabbed it in the place where its heart would have been. It still didn‘t die, but struggled on the point of her sword like a landed fish. The princess shoved the wight away with one foot, whilst using both hands to yank her blade free. The dead blue eyes seemed to bear into her as the handless wight advanced once more. Rhaenys sliced its head off and then its legs and finally it crumpled. She let out a cry of victory and ran to aid Jeyne, cutting down one of the wights and chopping it to pieces while her friend pinned the other down long enough for her to do the same.
“Bastard creatures,” Jeyne grumbled. “I wish they died more easily.”
“So do we all,” Rhaenys agreed. “Where are Maekar and Talyn.”
Maekar was her cousin, a Blackfyre bastard and cousin to Rhaenys and her sisters. He was also a dear friend to Rhaenys as well as the captain of her bodyguard. Jeyne and Talyn made up the compliment, one a Dornishman the other a Braavosi. Rhaenys had long since given up trying to track her companions during the course of the battle.
“I lost them, princess,” Jeyne answered. “I haven‘t seen them in ages. Oh, Warrior help us! Talyn’s been cornered.”
Rhaenys followed her bodyguard’s pointing spear. The Braavosi was being backed against a heap of dead men by a group of wights. He fought bravely, his slender blade flickering back and forth, but doing little damage. Braavosi weapons were not made to destroy wights. Rhaenys beckoned to Jeyne and ran forward without hesitation. With sword and spear they cut a path through the enemy army towards Talyn. They didn’t stop to hack the wights to pieces, just fought through towards their companion. Talyn hailed her with a cry of “Princess“” There was no time for gratitude.
The Others and their henchmen were flagging under the onslaught of fire and steel but it wasn’t over yet. Rhaenys looked about for the biggest threat to her allies. As a princess, it was her duty to help rally the troops. She saw Selwyn Baratheon leading the ragged survivors of his army, and the Martell troops, as well as her mother’s own men. The world was alive with fire from Rhodrys and Becawyr. Rhaenys gloried in its light and heat yet still the cold blue eyes of the wights and the pale swords of the remaining Others sent fear shivering through her soul. She saw her mother, Saella, silver-gold hair streaming behind her as she rode Becawyr. Rhaenys let herself be swept away by the glory of the dragon fire before she led her guards and a few of her mother’s men at another group of wights. Their attack was savage as they started to hack the wights to pieces, aided by a few fiery arrows from surviving Westerosi archers.
It was then that it happened. Rhaenys saw a giant arrow seemingly made of ice launch from some fell device of the others. The arrow hit its target even as the laragest dragon ignited the great weapon. The icy missile caught the chest of Becawyr as she skimmed low over the head of the enemy troops and set them alight. The dragon cried out in pain, shot fire and careened down with Saella still on her back. The screams from the dragon were worse even from those she’d heard from Ellanyria. The battle seemed to stop as everyone, Others included, hurried to get out of the way. Rhaenys gasped with horror as Becawyr rolled over and plummeted into the snow, crushing Saella and a number of wights beneath her. They fell close to Rhaenys so she could hear the sickening crack of bones. She saw the awkward angle of the dragon’s neck and knew that Becawyr was dead. Of Saella there was no trace, Rhaenys knew with an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach that her mother was dead. Horrified, she ran forward to the dragon‘s body, while those around her resumed fighting. Overhead, Rhodrys continued to send hot flames at the remainder of the enemy host. Tears ran down Rhaenys’ face but she turned when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Maekar, roughly handsome and rough-voiced. He looked bone-weary but in his hand was the sword from which he took his name. Blackfyre.
“It’s yours now,” he said, pressing it into her hands. “You must rally the troops, my queen.”
Queen Rhaenys. She liked the sound of that, though there was no guarantee the lords of Westeros would accept her. The alliance had been between her mother and Selwyn. Still, she knew her duty was to save the kingdom. She glanced at the remnants of the enemy force. The Others and their wights had retreated to regroup and, doubtless, make a new attack. They seemed to have no concept that they were losing. Then again, the wights had no minds at all. That was all to the good, Rhaenys thought. They’d fight until they were utterly destroyed. She clasped her fingers around the sword hilt and raised her voice.
“People of Westeros, hear me! I am Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter to Queen Saella. I wield Blackfyre, the sword of Aegon the Conqueror. My mother has died to save you all. Help me honour her memory now by ridding Westeros of this foul horde that seeks to destroy us! Fire and Blood! Attack!”
She charged the Others without waiting to see if she was followed; she knew already that Maekar, Jeyne and Talyn would follow her without question, as would her mother’s men. Everyone else followed her anyway and battle cries filled the air. Chief among them were her own house words, ‘Fire and Blood‘. The remaining Others met their charge head on, wielding those ice-pale swords. They were a sorry sight, even with the last wights to bulk up their numbers.
Rhaenys hadn’t attempted to fight an Other before, though she’d shot a few with the obsidian arrows and watched the dragons burn many. She’d heard that Valyrian steel harmed them as well as fire and dragon glass bit was still amazed when her sword went through the Other like a knife through cheese. It crumpled to the ground. Rhaenys spun and decapitated another. Her bodyguards slew wight after wight while Rhaenys didn’t bother to count the Others who fell to her sword or to the Valyrian blades of other men. All she knew was the snow and the noise of battle and the dark figures with their icy swords. Her arm ached from swinging but she kept on fighting so long as the Others kept coming.
It felt like a lifetime but, eventually, their enemies were obliterated. Rhaenys stood panting in the snow, Blackfyre held loosely from her hand. She looked up to see Maekar standing nearby. He looked grim as he knelt before her in the sand.
“It’s over, my queen,” he said. “Westeros is yours now.”
“Hush, cousin, you’d best not call me ‘queen’ just yet,” she told him. “And get up. We must speak with Selwyn and the lords of Westeros before we make any assumptions.”
That prospect worried Rhaenys almost as much as the battle itself. She had a feeling that new terms would have to be hammered out for the continuation of the alliance with Selwyn Baratheon.
“Rally my sisters and our lords and captains, Maekar,” Rhaenys commanded. “I would speak with them before I approach King Selwyn.”
As he hurried to obey her, she headed towards the body of Becawyr and to search for her mother. Dead heroes must be paid their due.
+Legendary sword for Rhaenys