Ruin Me

Chapter Five

The sun had yet to pierce through the thick layer of clouds that surrounded the long pathway that led to the Dragonstone stronghold. There was, indeed, a chill in the air as Otto Hightower marched along the stone walkway with his party of twenty knights and a few Dragonkeepers.

They paused partway, soaking in what little warmth the rising sun provided as Daemon emerged from the mist. A woman dressed in white was at his side and he was followed by his Gold Cloaks. He tossed the dragon egg from one hand to another.

"Welcome to Dragonstone, Otto," the prince mused as his icy blue eyes settled on the Hand.

"Your occupation of this island is at an end. You're to relinquish the dragon's egg, disband your army, banish your whore...and leave Dragonstone by order of King Viserys –"

"Where is the King?" interrupted Daemon, resting his free hand on the hilt of his sword. "I don't see him."

"His Grace would never lower himself to entertain such a mummer's farce," Otto said and Daemon seemed to grin as he touched his teeth with his tongue.

"Ser Crispin, wasn't it?" Daemon asked as his eyes rested on the newest member of the Kingsguard, appointed by Rhaenyra herself.

"Ser Criston Cole, my prince," Criston corrected.

"Ah, yes, apologies. I couldn't recall," Daemon said, but you could clearly tell he did recall.

"Perhaps my Prince recalls when I knocked him off his horse," Criston fired.

Daemon chuckled. "Very good."

"This is a truly pathetic show, Daemon," Otto said. "Are you so desperate for the King's attention that you've resorted to skulking about like a common cutpurse?"

"I'm simply keeping with the traditions of my house, the same as my brother did for his heir," Daemon reasoned.

"Those traditions are for the trueborn children of royalty, not for bastards fathered on a common whore."

"Lady Mysaria is to be my wife," Daemon reminded him.

"This is an abomination. With every breath you soil your name, your house and your brother's reign."

"Our love does not know titles and traditions."

"And what of you, men of the City Watch?!" Otto called. "Aiding the Prince in his treason?!"

"The King made me their commander. They are loyal to me," Daemon bellowed. He held out the dragon's egg. "You've come for the egg. Here it is."

"Are you mad? You'd never survive this," said Otto.

"Well, happily, neither will you," Daemon agreed.

"To choose violence, here, is to declare war against your King," warned the Hand, still dressed in Hightower green with his crest emblazoned on his chest.

"Wonderful."

"Even if it ends with the death of your unborn child and its mother?" Otto questioned.

Daemon drew his sword.

Criston drew his.

The Gold Cloaks drew theirs.

The Kingsguard drew theirs.

20 against 2 thousand. It was already a losing battle, yet they were still willing to fight it. At least until Caraxes climbed out from his hiding place, his long next twisting through the air as he observed the people who would harm his rider. Caraxes let out a screeching roar, ready for the command.