𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 99: 𝕬 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖊.
Balon had begun to breathe again, and each time the air left his chest, Asha's eyes flicked toward him as if to make sure he was still there, while Vlad remained standing beside the king's body, watching the slow and unmistakable change in the ironborn daughter's face.
She took a deep breath, though she stayed still; her hands no longer reached for her weapons, and when she spoke, all hostility had vanished.
—We were unaware that the Westerlands had changed hands —she explained in a conciliatory tone— We would not have come to confront you, and certainly… we would not have taken anything that was yours.
Vlad allowed himself a faint smile as he fixed his gaze on her. Her shift in attitude and sudden diplomacy did not surprise him; it was clear that if a woman held power in the Iron Islands, there had to be a reason, and he had no doubt Asha Greyjoy was clever.
She continued, maintaining her composure.
—The Lannisters have been our enemies for generations, and now you rule what was once theirs. If you think about it, we have no reason to fight —she drew a slow breath— We share enemies. We could be allies… brothers-in-arms.
Vlad's smile widened, almost amused by the idea. Brothers-in-arms with the ironborn; it might as well have been an insult.
—Please, your schemes interest me very little —he murmured with disdain— You have simply given me the perfect excuse.
—War would be a mistake, Lord Impaler —she replied, her voice tense.
He stepped closer, forcing her to tilt her chin slightly to hold his gaze, and Asha shuddered as thunder rumbled from the chamber's balcony, announcing that a storm had reached the mainland.
—On that, we can agree —said Vlad— But you came to my land to steal, so I will destroy yours. A trade, you see? Take from you as you took from me.
She clenched her jaw at those words. It was a philosophy she knew well, she had paid the iron price more than once, but she had no time to argue as her mind raced through possibilities.
—This was nothing more than a misunderstanding. I understand your anger; it is more than justified —she gave a slight bow, following the traditional etiquette of Westeros— But we can reach an agreement, we will pay you a ransom.
Vlad smiled, amused by the young woman's skill in dealing with men and using every available resource.
—A ransom, you say? —he asked, feigning interest.
—A more than generous ransom —she continued, suppressing a smile as she believed she had found the right approach— We will pay you so much gold it will make the Lannisters pale. This should settle any enmity between our peoples. It is a gift for you… and a gift for me.
Another thunderclap rolled, louder this time, as Asha watched Vlad's smile become more pronounced, those golden eyes fixed on her, almost entertained. Despite his striking presence, all she felt was fear coiling tighter within her.
Vlad rested his fingers lightly beneath her chin. Asha imagined he would be like most men she knew, driven by desire or greed; she would have offered herself if needed, it would not have been the first time, and certainly she would not have minded if it were Vlad, but to her misfortune, Vlad had little interest in anything she could offer.
Without a single word, he lifted her, holding her only by the chin. Asha barely had time to react before she felt her body rise, light, almost as if she were floating behind him, as he calmly led her toward the balcony.
—Your "gift" pleases me —said the Impaler with a devilish smile that sent a chill down Asha's spine— And so I have something for you as well.
Then he forced her chin upward, making her look toward the sky.
A vast, black vortex loomed above the center of the island, lightning striking without pause as the people of Pyke fled through the violent winds, seeking shelter in their homes, still convinced it was only a storm.
But that illusion did not last long, as the dark clouds began to twist unnaturally, folding in on themselves until they formed what could only be described as a face.
Asha was horrified, just like all the inhabitants of Pyke, but it was Vlad's final words that made her skin crawl with pure terror.
—For your gift —he whispered as he rose into the air, carrying her with him as if she were bound to him— You will be the last on this island to die.
—What…? —she gasped in disbelief, though the sound was swallowed by a roar so powerful it drowned even the thunder.
Then came another, and then two more. The sounds drew closer, deeper, unmistakable.
Until she saw them.
The dragons.
-----
[Minutes earlier, Pyke Island]
A sailor was gathering ropes on the dock when he felt a sudden shift in the air, as if the entire harbor had inhaled at once. The sky had been overcast, nothing unusual for that time of year, yet a cold wind blowing in from the open sea sent a chill down his spine.
He straightened, confused, because he did not remember seeing a storm on the horizon a minute before. But the first drops began to fall, thick and fast, and by the time he looked up, the sky was completely black.
The wind grew so strong that he had to grab the edge of a barrel to keep from being thrown into the water, while waves slammed against the dock's pilings and several sailors shouted orders, trying to secure whatever they could.
The rain came down all at once, but what was strangest were the thunderclaps, bursting so close they seemed to tear the air apart. The harbor bells began to ring out of rhythm, struck wildly by the wind, their uneven toll mingling with the shouts of the men.
Then the first lightning bolt struck.
It hit one of the watchtowers, ripping loose planks that were hurled into the sea in flames. Another struck the mast of a ship a few yards from the sailor; the crack of splitting wood left him stunned, and the man beneath it fell dead without even managing to scream.
The smell of burnt wood and scorched flesh filled the air. A bolt hit the group trying to secure the davits, and three of them collapsed instantly, one completely charred, smoke still rising from his soaked body.
Seagulls began to fall from the sky like stones, striking the dock, the water, and the rooftops, dead before they hit the ground. People started running inland, pushing, stumbling, not knowing where to go; from the shore to the first houses, chaos spread like a wave.
The lightning began to strike in a strange pattern, forming a line toward the castle of Pyke, each strike faster and more violent than the last. The sailor felt every impact reverberate in his stomach, and when he looked up, he saw the clouds folding inward toward a single point above the fortress. The wind roared in circles, the rain lashed sideways, and the thunder came so constantly that each flash blinded him.
He ran inland with the terrified crowd, dodging burning debris and shattered homes torn free by the wind.
He did not understand what was happening, no one on the island did. He could only run for his life, yet he still found himself looking up at the sky, like everyone else. And what he saw froze him in place: in a dark hollow between the clouds, there was a shape that should not exist, yet it was there, watching from above, eyes, an open mouth, a colossal face staring down.
—By the gods… —he whispered, paralyzed, and he was not the only one. All who saw it ran toward the fortress, the only place they believed to be safe.
Huts were torn from the ground, while others burst into flames as lightning struck them. People fled in every direction, slipping, falling, or being crushed in the stampede. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the sailor tried to keep running, soaked and gasping, unable to tear his eyes away from the sky.
The next thing he heard was not a human scream nor another thunderclap, but a roar, a deep, animal sound that made his bones vibrate, while a flash of lightning illuminated the silhouette of something enormous descending through the clouds: outstretched wings, dark scales gleaming in the storm.
A dragon.
Legends did not do justice to the horror of seeing such a creature descend upon Pyke, but true despair came when he realized it was not alone.
After the first, more followed, until four massive shapes tore through the storm, their colossal wings beating amid lightning and rain.
They dove toward Pyke.
The first fell upon the harbor, its open jaws pouring fire over everything in its path, engulfing men, wood, and stone in flames so intense that even the rain could not extinguish them. Ships burned at their moorings as their masts gave way under the heat, and sailors wrapped in fire ran screaming before collapsing or throwing themselves into the sea.
Another dragon swept along the outer walls of the fortress, and the heat was so brutal that parts of the stone began to crack and melt, falling onto those who had sought refuge.
Slaves and salt wives seized the chaos to turn on their captors in desperate acts, killing them before being consumed by the flames themselves. The streets and bridges of Pyke quickly became a trap of fire as the dragons continued their descent with thunderous roars.
Men were consumed by fire and died, leapt into the sea and died, or were crushed against the fortress walls and died.
The sailor felt the heat strike him with such force that he could barely keep his eyes open. He ran with all his strength, gasping for breath, until he tripped over a body and fell to his knees, his hands hitting the wet wood.
The air was thick with smoke and ash, and every breath was a desperate struggle. When his strength began to fail, he could only crawl along the ground, trying to draw air into his lungs. As he rolled onto his back, he thought he glimpsed a blond figure floating high in the sky, accompanied by the blurred silhouette of a woman.
He saw the figure raise his arms, and then the fire consuming Pyke began to swirl around him, spinning like a vast vortex of flames.
Then he lifted one hand toward the sky and clenched his fist, and a bolt of lightning struck the very heart of the fortress.
He did not know if it was real, a dream, or if the gods themselves had descended upon Pyke, but he would never find out.
The bell of one of the watchtowers was torn free when another lightning bolt struck, and it crashed down upon him with a brutal crack.
Everything went black in an instant.
-----
First of all, thank you once again for being here this week. I really appreciate it.
Today's chapter was especially challenging, mainly because I had to portray the destruction of Pyke in a way that felt interesting without being either excessive or too brief. At first, I considered doing the usual approach: showing everything from Vlad's point of view as he destroys everything without hesitation. But honestly, that's something we've all seen countless times. Most of us have been reading fanfics for years, and that kind of scene is already overused.
So I decided to take a different approach and show the destruction from an external perspective, through the eyes of an anonymous person on the ground witnessing everything unfold. And honestly, I think it turned out pretty well.
That said, I do feel like I might have been a bit short on descriptions. But I'm not sure that's necessarily a bad thing. In reality, battles like this, and battles in general, don't usually last as long as we tend to imagine. We all have this idea of battles lasting days, but from what I've looked into, that's rarely the case. And in this particular scenario, with magic, storms, and massive destruction, everything would happen very quickly.
So stretching it out artificially didn't feel right.
As always, I'd love to hear what you think. Any feedback, suggestions, or criticism are more than welcome.
Also, yes… I added another reference to Epic The Musical. And no, I'm not going to apologize for it. That musical has me completely obsessed, it's basically all I listen to lately, and I don't plan on stopping. So if it bothers you at some point… well, I'm sorry, but not really.
In fact, I already have a couple of ideas to include more references in a natural way within the story, like having bards sing songs or similar things that fit the world. Nothing that breaks the tone, just small, well-integrated touches.
At the end of the day, even if I take the story seriously, it's still a way for me to express myself, so I like adding those elements too.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. See you next week if everything goes well.