Chapter 37
"DRAGOOON!" Daemon heard the shout from inside his tent.
Dragon? What dragon? Which dragon? He got up from his chair and exited the tent. Low and behold in the distance Vhagar could be spotted. The great beast was flying fast, with purpose. The worrying thing was that he didn't see his brother's silver hair on top of her. A shiver ran down his spine. Where was Viserys? There was of course the possibility that the old dragon grew bored in Kingslanding and went on a flight, but the chances were slim. Vhagar was quite lazy in her old age, preferring to stay in her cave and sleep. He didn't see Shrykos or Maenera either but that was not surprising, they usually blend in with the clouds making it hard to be seen. Corlys, Vaemond and Laenor approached him.
"It seems your brother got tired of waiting." Said Vaemond.
"My brother is not on Vhagar." He said and he could feel the stares of the other men on his body.
"What do you mean the King is not on Vhagar?" Corlys asked.
"Exactly what I fucking said. Viserys is not atop Vhagar, she is flying alone."
"She seems to fly straight to us."
"Yes she does."
"Why?"
"I do not know. She may be on a leisure flight."
"Or?"
"Or she is on a fucking rampage burning everything in her way, both options are viable. It's hard to know with dragons." He responded.
"We didn't receive any ravens saying that."
"Hard to send a raven when you are burning alive."
"Should we make a run for the caves? Just in case?"
"It won't matter, she is old enough to melt stone."
"The water?"
"She will boil you in it."
"So what? We just stay here and hope that she passes us?"
"Yes. Let's hope my brother is alright and that this is just a flight out of boredom."
"Can't you do anything?" Asked Vaemond. That angered him.
"What the fuck am I supposed to do? Fly out to her and ask her what is wrong? Excuse my impertinence oh mighty Vhagar would you be so kind to tell me where the fuck is my brother, and why is he not with you?" He said sarcastically.
"We could meet her in the air. Try to divert her." Said Laenor again the voice of reason.
"It would be suicide, if she feels threatened she will attack. She will rip Caraxes and Seasmoke to pieces. Better to wait it out."
And that's what they did. All of them waiting with their hearts in their throats to see if Vhagar will attack or not. Just as Vhagar passed above them the clouds parted and Shrykos and his sister were making their descent. She didn't seem particularly bothered by the gathering of men, preparing to land in the middle of the camp leaving the soldiers scrambling out of the dragons way. She wore armor, war braids in her hair. Long gone the girl he left in Kingslanding, in her place a beautiful woman. A beautiful angry woman. Daemon could see the anger and determination in her eyes, Shrykos mirroring her rider's emotions let out a loud roar. Something definitely happened. Besides her dagger now on her hip also rested his brother's sword, Blackfyre. He refused to believe his brother was dead. The thought was absurd. Maenera promised him that she would not hurt him, that she would protect him while Daemon was gone.
She got down from her dragon and made her way straight to him. She didn't say anything for a moment. The siblings, just looking at each other. Nobody dared to interrupt. She had grown. She was taller, the baby fat in her cheeks almost gone, a few freckles adorning her face. It was hard to determine how exactly her body changed because of the armor, but there was no denial that she came into her form delightfully. The spell broke and she flew to his arms. He embraced her and lifted her off the ground in his arms. Her arms were keeping him tight against her. Daemon buried his face in her hair planting a small kiss on her neck. Not lifting his head nor letting her go he began talking.
"Skorion massitas?" (What happened?) He asked her.
"Visērȳs iksin ōdrikagon" (Viserys was hurt.) She answered.
"Iksis ziry morghe?" (Is he dead?)
"Daor, yn ziry iksos jēda syt ao naejot māzigon lenton. (No, but it's time for you to come home.) He nodded. He turned his head and saw that the Velaryons were following their conversation in High Valyrian.
"Let's go to my tent. Tell me the news from the King." He said in common trying to make it clear to the rest of the men gathered around that the King was not dead and everything was fucking fine. It wasn't. They made their way inside of the tent only Corlys and Laenor following.
"What happened to Viserys?"
"Last night he was hurt. When I was on Dragonstone, I arrived in Kingslanding too late." He heard the underlying sentence. She'd seen it too late.
"Is the King alright?"asked Corlys
"Physically he is fine. His pitcher of wine was drugged and somebody sneaked into his room. Vaegon is tending to him now." Daemon nodded.
"Why wasn't a kingsguard at his door?"
"I do not know. I gave the Small Council the chance to find out. They have until we get back to Kingslanding, after that the heads will begin to roll."
"You got harsher in your punishments since I left."
"They hurt Viserys. I don't give a fuck about them."
"What is your plan? I know you have one." She didn't responded she just looked pointy at Corlys and Laenor. He understood the message." Could you give us some privacy?" He asked Corlys. The men both nodded and exited the tent.
"I will burn the Hightower to the ground." Her words were music to his ears.
"The Hightowers are responsible?"
"I found a naked Allicent Hightower in bed with an unconscious Viserys." Fucking bitch.
"Did you kill her?"
"No, Harwin stoped me. She is pretty battered though."
Harwin? Since when was she on a first name basis with Harwin? He didn't liked it. He knew Harwin as her sworn shield was a bad idea. His spiraling thoughts were interrupted. Maenera put a hand on his chest and put her forehead against his. He closed his eyes, breathing her in.
"I missed you." She said and his heart was soaring.
How could it not when she spoke in that soft voice of hers. When her hand was above his heart. He wondered if she could feel it beat. Feel how it almost beat out of his chest. He was fucked. If he was like this at only a touch and a few words, he will have a hard road in front of him. Thankfully his Bronze Bitch died sometimes last year. He could keep his promise. He hadn't stayed then to see her reaction, to hear if she would accept or not. He didn't think he could bear it if she denied him.
"I missed you too." He responded his hand making its way to her braids.
"You pierced your ear." He moved his hand to his right ear where three small gold hoops were. He got them a year into the war. It wasn't his most inspired decision. The holes got infected and had to take the earnings of for a time and then pierce them again. He definitely wasn't doing that shit again.
"Yes"
"Three earrings?"
"Yes."
"It suits you." She said looking in his eyes. Her dual colored starring straight to his purple ones. She looked enchanting. Her white hair up in intricate braids, high cheekbones and rosy pouty lips. He kissed her. To his surprise she reciprocated. The kiss began softly but soon turned fierce. Both battling for dominance. Her hand grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled making him let out a moan. She took advantage of this and began kissing his neck. His hands began roaming wanting to find skin. They didn't, instead they found metal. It was like a bucket of cold water was dropped on his head. He remembered why was she here, why was she wearing armor. He gently pried her away and he was met with the most beautiful confused face he ever saw. She looked like a kitten whose ball of yarn had been taken away. He couldn't resist and planted another kiss on her lips. Just a peck.
"What is your plan?" He asked again trying to get them both on the same track.
"I don't... I don't really know. I was so angry I just knew that the Hightower had to brun and that I needed you."
"That's alright. You brought Vhagar with you and that is a feast in itself. We both finish this fucking war and then go for the Hightowers. After that is done we get back to Viserys. "
"Sounds good. Where do you want me?"
On the bed, the table, the hard ground. He shook his head slightly. He knew what she meant but that didn't mean that his mind didn't took it the wrong way.
"Let's talk with the others. Make some plans. If we attack during the night, all this shit will be over by morning. Vhagar can melt all the entrances to the caves and trap them inside, and we take any stragglers that manage to get out. After that whatever remains the armies can take care of."
***
The battle that followed was fierce. Tk try to end a three year war in one night was not an easy feat. Thankfully Vhagar seemed to know what needed to be done. He could thank his sister for that. He hard her more than once trying to steer the old beast in the right direction. The curious thing was that the Dragon listened to her. Mostly. After she melt the entrances the grouchy dragon sat on one of the hills and refused to get up, leaving the rest of the work to Caraxes Shrykos and Seasmoke. It didn't matter anyway, she did enough damage. With those fucking cave closed the war was already won. The rest of the battles was so they could eliminate whatever scum managed to flee. Come morning everything was either blackened by the dragon fire or red beaches of the blood splattered everywhere.
They were dirty, sore and tired. All of them but they rejoiced. This shit was finally over. They could go home. Embrace their wives, see their children. Daemon had none of those at the moment but the prospect of spending time with Maenera and his brother in a comfortable bed surrounded by his favorite food sounded appealing.
Maenera fought like a woman possessed. She and Shrykos burned every archer that tried to shoot in their direction, after one of the arrows made their way to him. He wasn't pierced by it. Nothing pierced his skin anymore. After the first battle he fought in Stepstones he found out that his skin couldn't be pierced by blades or arrows. The puzzle pieces fell into place then. This was definitely Maenera's work. While he healed a lot more faster than a normal human after he bonded with Caraxes, he was never resistant to blades before. The questions about what was Cole sacrificed for were answered then. Of course in an extraordinary example of hubris Daemon thought for a time that he was invincible. High on blood and death he overestimated the power of the spell his sister had cast. That's how he ended up with three broken ribs and a broken nose. The spell seemed to shield him from external damage not internal one. It would have been nice to know that before he charged head straight into danger. He send a very angry letter to his sister then, he was in too much pain to measure his words. He blamed her for not informing him of the downfall of the spell. In his anger he didn't even thank her for the gift she had given him. Apparently his brother saw the letter as well because he's response was hard and unforgiving, accusing Daemon of being ungrateful. He was. He recognized that later. His sister's answer on the other hand was short and on point as usual.
"You are not a God. This should be a lesson for you."
That is all the letter said. He was so angry at her response. Angry at the fact that she had probably seen what he was about to do and didn't intervene just to teach him a lesson. To humble him. He didn't send her another letter for three moons after that. But the anger receded. With every fatal injury he did not receive, with every cut that did not appear on his skin, with every inspection of his body, seeing the flesh unmarked time and time again, gratefulness began to replace the anger. He began to question his decisions. Daemon was never one to care much whether he lived or died, but after that he started to question that way of thinking. What would happen if he died? He would never marry his sister, never have children, leave his brother without an heir, leave his siblings unprotected. That was not an option anymore. He was not a second son of a second son anymore. He was the King's brother, the heir of the Iron Throne, the Lord Hand, he had responsibilities and obligations. People counted on him, trusted him with their lives and welfare. He was more careful after that revelation. The plans better thought out. Never puting himself in unnecessary danger.
When they landed their dragons the army was still fighting, still killing whaterver men were still alive. By then they began crying for mercy, but their soldiers were not in a forgiving mood. Their pleas went unheard as their men butchered them. The dragons began to feast on the corpses. Daemon let them be, they deserved a good feast after the night they just had. Daemon was tired, extremely so but he knew that the work was not done. Both he and his sister entered his tent and began taking of their armor, and washing away the blood and grime. They were too exhausted to really appreciate each others naked bodies. A few fugitive looks and that was it. His sister looked ready to drop. When was the last time she slept?
"When was the last time you slept, Maenera?" He asked her.
"Got a few hours on the saddle while I was coming here." She responded.
"A few hours in what? Almost four days?" He asked incredulously.
"Yes." She said with a grimace.
"Go to bed. You need some sleep." Daemon took her by the hand and steered her in the direction of his bed.
"Can't sleep now. We need to go to Oldtown soon."
"Soon, but not in this moment. I need to speak with my men and the Velaryons, give the orders to begin the journey home. Have some sleep, I will wake you up when it's time to go."
As soon as she touched the bed he could see the refusal dying on her lips. She looked up at him studying him for a moment, as she was trying to judge if he was tricking her or not. She finally nodded and laid on the bed. He covered her with some blankets and planted a kiss on her forehead. She was asleep in an instant.