The White Dragon

AERYS' LANDING

THE WHITE DRAGON CHAPTER 11 : AERYS' LANDING

A FANFICTION OF HBO'S HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

The sun rises slowly. There is no song of birds or crickets on the beach. All that stands are the banners of the sellsword companies paid by the Free cities to aid Craghas Drahar in his domination of the Stepstones and a tense silence rolling in like a fog after a rainy day.

News had begun to spread of Prince Daemon's countless stalemates. While the Targaryen prince had a dragon, he was reckless with it, often burning his own soldiers, trying to kill men of the triarchy who simply rushed back into their caves to hide like roaches. Most of the officers had started taking bets that they would soon be called to sweep in and decimate not only Prince Daemon but also Lord Corlys Velaryon.

Two men, from the companies of the Windblown and the Rose, stand guard on the beaches of the grey gallows watching to make sure that no ships sail towards Bloodstone to aid Prince Daemon in the war.

"I hope we get some action soon." Peter, the windblown warrior says making Maro, a member of the company of the rose scoff "This is what war is. Most days you spend waiting for something to happen, but the most excited thing is usually a wet shit."

"You're afraid." Peter says making Maro scoff "I am not." Peter holds his hands up defensively and chuckles "There aint no need to be pissy about it. I don't fancy being burned alive by a dragon either, but riding one would be fun, to have that freedom and feel the wind blow harshly against your face."

"That's the difference between us two. You talk of riding a fire breathing dragon, and I thought you was referring to the Westerosi princess. God what I wouldn't do to ride that bitch like there was no tomorrow." Maro says before laughing, Peter soon joining while grabbing his flask filled with mead.

Maro's laugh stops when he glances in the distance. He stands tensely and pulls out a telescope. Peter stands and squints his eyes in the distance to see clearer. At least thirty ships carrying the banners of A white three headed dragon and a sun pierced by a spear .

Only those ships sail straight towards the grey gallows, and not towards Bloodstone. "Go, ride back to Wailfort, send word that we have hostiles coming in." Mero says making Peter stand quickly "Why what is it."

A roar shakes the two mercenaries in their thin leather armor and Mero responds grimly "Dragon." Peter watches as a shadow descends from the skies and Peter rushes towards his horse, climbing on and grabs the reign "Hiyah!"

Peter's horse rears up before running down from the small camp. His heart thumps in his chest as drums bellow and the sounds of horns sound from the enemy invasion in the distance. Riding along the coast, the howl of the wind nips against the red-head's face, his hair whipping about and his fear evident. 

He strikes his hand against his horse's rear, urging his mount to ride faster and harder. Dashing down along the high cliffs and yells out "OPEN THE GATE!!"

The gate opens soon after and Peter rushes in, watching as the mercenaries train against each other, with sword, ax and mace. Peter stops at a halt and hops off from his horse and rushes towards the main hall, only stopping as two burly men with axes push him back slightly and Peter points his finger "I need to talk to the captains."

"They are busy feasting and fucking." The one with hair says, almost unhappy that he wasn't  invited and Peter rolls his eyes. "Does it look like I fucking care. This regards the fleet on our shores."

"The fuck are you on about?" The one with a braided beard asks and a scream rings out. Peter turns around to see a white horse with Mero's charred corpse resting on the mount. The commotion finally allowed the doors to open and the two captains walk outside.