Fire and Blood

Chapter 135: Battle Above the Gods Eye (Part 1)

The Riverlands ― South of the Gods Eye...

The Riverlands were enveloped in darkness as the full moon stayed hidden behind the dense clouds, casting only a faint glow in the night sky. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves as a gentle breeze whispered through the trees. Shadows danced along the banks of the Trident, its waters reflecting the muted hues of the night, creating an eerie tapestry of dark blues and silvers. The landscape felt strangely muted, devoid of the usually vibrant sounds of nocturnal creatures. The croaking of frogs and the chirping of crickets were absent, leaving an unsettling silence that seemed to press down on the land. The tall grasses swayed gently, their tips brushing against one another like hushed secrets shared among old friends.

Then, all the birds in the godswood on the Isle of Faces took to the air in fright, and a hot wind whipped the fallen leaves across the yard.

Vhagar soared through the skies from Harrenhal to the Gods Eye, and on her back rode the one-eyed Prince Aemond Targaryen, clad in nightblack armor chased with gold. Once he learned of Aeonar's presence in the Riverlands and experienced Alys' prophetic vision from the flames, Aemond took Alys with him. Her lustrous, black hair flowed behind her, and her belly was visibly swollen with child. Aemond cautiously combed through the area, straining his eye to spot any sign of movement or presence. His anticipation had been building for what felt like an eternity, and at last, the time had arrived to face Aeonar in a fierce showdown. However, the cover of night hung heavily over the land, shrouding everything in an inky blackness that made it nearly impossible to discern anything in the distance.

"Gīmī kesīr lēkia issa! (I know you're here, brother!)" Aemond shouted, his voice echoing across the Gods Eye. "Nāgeltigon aōla! (Show yourself!)"

Suddenly, a deafening explosion echoed through the air, originating deep within the forest. Aemond, perched atop his dragon, quickly turned his head as the faint vibrations spread through the atmosphere. The sheer intensity of the blast suggested a significant event had occurred to trigger such a powerful reaction. The shockwave was so potent that even Vhagar, the Queen of All Dragons, could feel it resonate from high above, instinctively prompting her to turn towards the source of the disturbance.

"*Ruuuuuuuu!*" Vhagar growled.

There you are! Aemond smirked. "Mazilībus, Vagar! (Go down, Vhagar!)"

"*Urrrraaaa!*" As Vhagar descended from the sky, her massive wings beat the air to slow her descent, creating a thunderous sound. With a forceful landing, the Queen of All Dragons let out a deep, ominous growl as she surveyed the scene before her.

Aemond swiftly dismounted from his dragon, the powerful creature's wings folding behind it with a thunderous rustle. Driven by a sudden, almost primal urge, he commenced his search through the devastated landscape. The forest was now a haunting tableau of destruction, still reeling from the catastrophic effects of the explosion that had ripped through its heart. Charred wood lay scattered like the bones of fallen giants, and singed leaves clung desperately to their branches, their once lush green now reduced to a brittle blackened husk. The acrid scent of ash and burnt bark permeated the air, creating an extensive radius of devastation that seemed to choke the air he breathed. Aemond felt the oppressive heat against his skin, a reminder of the chaos that had unfolded moments before. Yet, he pressed on, relentless in his quest to find Aeonar. Each step he took was heavy with the weight of caution, the forest floor crunching beneath his boots as he navigated the treacherous terrain. The silence around him was deafening, broken only by the occasional crackle of smoldering embers and the distant calls of birds that had yet to return to their homes.

As Aemond rounded a bend, the moment's tranquility shattered when a large branch, weakened by the fire, snapped and plummeted to the ground with a resounding crash. Aemond's reflexes kicked in, and he skillfully evaded the falling debris. However, as he turned back to regain his bearings, he was confronted with a chilling sight-a gruesome tableau: one of his scouts lay grotesquely impaled on a stake, the sharp end piercing through the anus and protruding from the mouth, a macabre display of violence that spoke of a brutal end. The man's eyes were wide open, frozen in a final expression of terror. Blood, dark and congealed, pooled around the base of the stake, a stark contrast to the charred earth that surrounded it.