The Death of the Dragons

[Oznerol]

Daemon sat on a rock overlooking the Blackwater Bay. The day was coming to an end and the sky was covered with red and purple. The sails of the myriad ships lurking on the Blackwater became reddish, like lit by fire. Shadow covered the many banners, standards and flags, the Velaryon's sea-horse darkened and unrecognizable. Seagulls had finally gone to sleep and the world around him turned silent, calm and peaceful. Only the city, behind its red walls, was as loudly and noisy as even, with many candles and torches lighting the streets, which looked like fiery veins in a body. Daemon, in the meanwhile, oiled the joints of one of his gauntlets, the steel black as night. Polished, it shone like a mirror. Behind him Caraxes slept, coiled and smoke coming from his nostrils. Bones scattered around him in the burned hole where he had made his bed.
Daemon loved that tranquility. The peace before the storm. He leaned against a trunk, Dark Sister on his lap. A bonfire heated the place. His old bones sensed autumn. Days were shortening and an ominous chill came from the sea, Northern freezing winds that would soon unleash Winter upon the Seven Kingdoms, unless it was a false Autumn.

What a bad way to inaugurate a reign.

He looked across the bay to the keep, illuminated under the moonlight, where his children and wife slept. He had to fight Aemond. Daemon had always been a rogue; kinslayer, murderer, looter, plotter... There wasn't a sin he hadn't committed to. However, he had always wanted, desired a crown, the crown of the Seven Kingdoms. Years ago he wanted to gain one with fire and blood, but he realized that gaining it through marriage was far better and easier. Fortunately, Laenor died in a sad argument with a jealeous lover. So timely.
Viserys had been a quite a fool, but he ended as a pathetic idiot when he couldn't avoid his brother's wedding with his own daughter. Rhaenyra had been a good partner, a pleasant wife, who had fulfilled his dreams and ambitions. However, his thirst for power was almost unquenchable, and being old and withering Daemon couldn't aspire to sit on the throne for too long. But his son, Aegon, could. They boy was a Targaryen, a true dragon on both sides. Unlike his wife's eldest children... However legitimacy was on her womb, not on the father's loins, whoever he was. Blackfyre now waited its rightful owner. In case the would-be king, Jacaerys, claimed the throne his son would still have the blade, the name and the support. Daemon himself would place him on the Iron Throne. But he won't live that long, Daemon knew that. If the traitor came, a duel would ensue and the Prince had realized long ago that against Vhagar there was no chance of victory but a stalemate and, likely, both riders would die.

So be it, Valar Morghulis.

He watched as stars appeared on the sky. Caraxes snorted behind him, a small jet of flame burning the surviving grass atop the hill Daemon had chosen as a waiting place.

[Pontifex Maximus]

ooc: I could RP Aemond?

[Oznerol]

ooc: Gandy suposedly returns tomorrow. Suposedly. Let's give him a chance. In case he doesn't return you may rp as Aemond.

[Gandalfus]

The rhythmic rise and fall of leathery wings could be faintly heard in the distance. 'Twas the only sound that could be heard on that serene sunset over the Blackwater, and it heralded a vicious, brutal battle that would likely be the dragonrider's end. Death of Dragons - that is what it would be known as to the fisherfolk around these waters. Both men were destined to die, alongside their majestic beasts. Aemond knew this was his fate. It had been hard on him, the death of his kin. The inaction of the green council drove him to near madness, and he spent the majority of his time burning the towns and villages of the Riverlands in a fiery rage. Now came the climax of his tumultuous struggle against the usurper. Here waited the Rogue Prince on the rocks overlooking the bay. Reaching his ears one night after ploughing some Riverlander peasant girl, the One Eyed Prince had flared at the challenge of his uncle, immediately setting out to meet him in mortal combat. Death would be found here for both of them.

Vhagar hovered in the sky, as Aemond looked down upon the figure of a crimson dragon. The rider was there too, waiting. Aemond would watch him for a while, as day turned to night. Sunlight turned to moonlight, and the pair would meet here, under the stars. Finally, Vhagar roared the answer to Daemon's challenge, and circled above his chosen battleground. Nothing mattered now to Aemond. All he now desired was a warriors' death, and the agonising death of his traitorous uncle.

[Oznerol]

Finally!

Daemon quickly leaped on the saddle, the steel saddle that he had used for four decades, he wore the armor which he once he had worn during his endless battles in the Stepstones. With firm, mailed hand he unsheathed the glorious sword, Dark Sister. The fearsome sword demanded blood, and she would satiate her thirst by midnight. Caraxes roared in defiance, a shriek that shut up the world around them. Birds flied away, scared at the sight of two dragons, and the animals on the forest ran in every possible direction, the smell of death and fire incarnates scaring them out. Caraxes unfolded his large leathern wings and with a snap of the whip and a defiant roar he rose from the ground. The beast hardened in a thousand battles, ambushes and raids, scarred and dangerous, the Blood Wyrm, the most formidable beast alive along Vhagar. Caraxes had hatchled for him, when he was but a silver-haired toddler, and now they would meet their end, together. As always.

Fire and blood!

"You came, finally! I was tired of waiting!"

Shouted Daemon. Both dragons flying face to face. The peace before the storm. Soon they would have to dance around each other. The large Vhagar covered the starry sky with her enormous, colossal body.ooc: We have to make this epic.

[Gandalfus]

The wind picked up as the dragons stared each other down. Aemond's ragged, unkempt hair flowed freely in the howling breeze, and his expression remained unchanged as he drew his sword from the sheath on his back. Clad in black plate, he was, and to those who were witnessing he must have almost looked like the dark shadow of death. He did not speak to Daemon at first, merely staring at him coldly. Finally, he shouted over the noise of beating wings.

"This will be our last dance, Daemon." He replied, "I will be your end."

Valar morghulis.

A guttural growl was heard from the larger, emerald dragon, as it sized up the Blood Wyrm. Both dragons were veterans of a hundred battles, at least, and they were well matched. While smaller, Caraxes was a wilful and cunning beast, like its rider. The Rogue Prince would prove a worthy adversary, the final song of Aemond the Kinslayer, the One Eyed Monster, as he was labelled now. In truth, Aemond knew him and Daemon were no different. Both fought and killed for those they loved. Even though Aemond hated Daemon, he respected him, as a fighter and leader. But kin must be avenged, and Daemon had slain golden Sunfyre along with Aegon.

"Let us fight then, uncle. Let this be the greatest song, the greatest dance."

Rain began to fall slowly, as if the Gods themselves wept. Small droplets of water fell on man and beast alike, running down Aemond's hair and his jet black plate. He ignored it. His eye remained fixed on Daemon, and now the dance would begin.

[Oznerol]

"I'm ready to fight and die, nephew. I've lived far too long and I finally have become King and sat on the throne. Everything I once desired is now fulfilled, including killing the son my brother owed me..."

Rain. A storm had killed the baby Misarya carried, thanks to his brother's folly and jealousy. A blood debt that had been paid with Aegon's death. Yet another son had died in Laena's belly killing her in the process. The only woman he had truly loved. But now he had two sons to continue his line, to sit on the throne that should have been his all this time. Daemon's fierce whiskers framed his face, calm, motionless as he was driven by an ultimate fate, to die against his own kin and killing him in turn.

"This shall be remembered in Westeros hundreds of years after our own death. A dance of dragons. The true, the one. Aegon had little chance against me, but you shall prove to be different. My bane, my undoing, my fate. As I will be yours!"

His mailed hand grabs the reins firmly. That boy was the best and the worst of his time, like Daemon once was. They were equals, in might, devauchery, ambition and cruelty. They were both monsters and heroes. The rain soaked both duelists, Daemon lowered his visor, his great war helmet topped by a three-headed dragon. His voice booming inside the steel.

"Valar Morghulis! And today, we die"

Caraxes shrieked and flapped his wings. The dance had begun. Like a thunder Caraxes rose in anger, unleashing his fire upon the old beast of Visenya, while flying higher than his foe. The Blood Wyrm was nimbler, faster and cunning. He knew that the claws and tail of Vhagar had to be avoided until the beast was exhausted.

[Gandalfus]

The storm rose, and it reminded Aemond of that fateful night at Shipbreaker's bay when the war began in earnest. It was only fitting that there should be one when his story ends. Vhagar produced an ear splitting roar that Aemond joined with his own, before soaring upwards into the air. Caraxes was faster, but Vhagar was larger, and Aemond therefore focused on closing the distance between the two. Flame burst from Vhagar's mighty maw, the crimson jet lighting up the jet black sky. Aemond felt the heat as sweat trickled down his forehead, but it did not concern him. Caraxes had to be caught, and quickly, else the fight would drag on for hours.

"COME! COME AND DIE!" Aemond roared, adrenalin coursing through his vein. Battle and its thrill is what Aemond lived for, and this was how it would all end.

[Oznerol]

Caraxes flied in circles and raised again and again, jets of flames coming from every angle. Daemon used the winds above the bay to fly in wider circles around Vhagar, while harassing her with fire, all over and over again. Caraxes tried to either blind the foe or burn her wings. Rain drops hissed as they vanished in flames, smoke arising from the dragon scales, warm and hot by their inner fire.

"Dracarys!"

Caraxes' red and black flames lit the sky with ominous light. Vhagar's flames menaced to engulfe both rider and dragon, Daemon swiftly leading his mount away from them, trying to avoid a fire so hot that could melt his armor or burn the soft tissue between Caraxes' wings.

We fight and die today, friend

Caraxes roared in answer. For rider and dragon share a deep bound.

[Gandalfus]

Aemond cursed as Caraxes avoided Vhagar, and the dragon shared his frustration as it was bombarded by small jets of flame. Some left painful marks on the dragons back, searing scales and flesh. Eventually however, a jet of flame threatened Daemon, and Aemond grimaced as the two pulled away.

"Afraid to fight, uncle?" Aemond snarled, in a mocking tone. Vhagar hissed, and ventured back into the fray once more. Dragonfire filled the sky, scorching the entire landscape. Trees were scorched, grass burned, and steam rose as the sky's tears doused the flames. The dance was akin to a natural disaster, scarring the land, bathing it in fire and blood.

[Oznerol]

In their wrath the stone was melted and the cliffside blackened, the grass scorched and even birds were caught in the firestorm, falling from the sky like small drouplets of fire. Daemon continued to fly and strike for a while, his dragon even unleashed his fire against the waters below, several times. I could have been incidental. But it wasn't. The sea boiled under them, heated by the flams of both dragons, a fire that melted stone and steel, and steam soon covered the night sky with a dense cloud. And suddenly the flames stopped and Daemon was no-where to be seen amongst the fog. The night finally had covered everything with its dark mantle. The flapping of wings could be heard, but muted by the steam, the foggy cloud that surrounded rider and mount alike...

[Gandalfus]

Aemond squinted as the fog smothered the air. It was thick, and heavy, and the steam continued rising along with the temperature. For a moment, Vhagar hovered, as both rider and dragon searched for their foe, masked in the thick air. Swearing aloud, Aemond and Vhagar rose through the air, seeking to escape the endless shroud. The sound of crackling flames could be heard, along with the steady beat of leathery dragon wings. But Daemon was nowhere to be seen in the thick fog.

[Oznerol]

Long ago Aemond had lost and eye and gained a dragon. Years after he would lose a dragon because he lost an eye. Caraxes and Daemon emerged from the fog, coming from Aemond's blinside and slammed into Vhagar's side, Caraxes closing his jaw around Vhagar's neck, fire dancing around his black teeth. His fearsome black claws piercing the dragon's loins and soft belly. Now they were locked in close combat...

[Gandalfus]

Vhagar roared in surprise, but the sound was stifled by Caraxes' jaws clamping around her throat. Vhagar responded in kind, flailing mindlessly, fighting tooth and nail to wound the Red Wyrm. Aemond's greatsword clashed with Dark Sister, as the riders brawled atop their dragons. Snarling, Aemond bared his teeth as he savagely swung his greatsword at Daemon, hoping to crunch through armour and flesh.

[Oznerol]

Dark Sister dodged the blow, but alas, not fully. The blade cut through steel and mail, just above the left arm, hitting the shoulder and cutting the flesh and muscle almost to the bone. Daemon grunted inside the helmet, bleeding profusely. At the same time Caraxes tore up one of Vhagar's wings and opened her belly, while Aemond's mount did the same. Riders and mounts were covered with smoking black blood and ocasionally surrounded by flames. The dragons, locked in close combat started to lose height and soon they were falling like two rocks. Daemon, his chains glittering as he didn't use to chain himself to the saddle then did the unthinkable, he lept to meet Aemond in a steel embrace, wielding Dark Sister on his hand.

[Gandalfus]

Aemond yelped as Daemon leapt atop him, the two riders struggling as Vhagar fell, limp and lifeless, towards the Blackwater below. Swords were too lengthy to be used in such close combat, and so mailed fists were flung by the two men. Daemon's fist had broken Aemond's nose, and the two Dragonriders fought with everything they had. Both of them landed fierce punches; covered in their own sweat and blood. But the Blackwater rushed to meet the descending warriors as they clashed, the acrid smoke and steam cloaking everything around them. Suddenly, they hit the sea, sinking due to the weight of their armour, writhing around as the sea sought to claim them. Vhagar and Caraxes both drifted off into the depths, whilst Aemond tore off his plate, crawling desperately to the nearby shore. Coughing and spluttering as he reached the surface, he lay on the sandy beach of the Blackwater, gasping for air. He did not know where Daemon had gone, but they had been separated as they hit the water. Eventually, he rose, leaning on his greatsword as he did so. The one eyed prince cut a ragged figure as he struggled to his feet, blinking rapidly as he sought to regain his vision.

[Oznerol]

Seven hells...

His head still resounding with the impact, teeth broken by a mailed fist and sea water down his throat. The water boiled over the dragon's bodies as both lifeless corpses dove into the sea, meeting their sepulchre before it was due. Still, Daemon managed to dive to the shore, gasping, trying to regaint his breath, his right hand still holding Dark Sister. He was soaked, his armor heavy with water. He got rid of the gauntlet and the armor covering the wounded arm and shoulder. The prince needed movility. He could move the right still. He leaned on the sword, wishing that the bastard had died with his beast. But no, he raised his gaze, and there he was, gasping as him, ragged and as soaked as he was.

Cursed spawn of Alicent... I should have killed them while on the craddle. Seven Hells!

"I'm too old for this "

Said Daemon, who again stood on his feet albeit breathless. He breathed heavily twice and recovered his strenght. He looked back for a last time, to the watery tomb of his dragon.

Goodbye, friend.

He then fixed his gaze on One-Eye. Now he was enraged, battle frenzy.

Let's finish this. With sword it is!

And Daemon ran towards his foe, the merciless Dark Sister on hand, and charged against Aemond, as he had done so many times in the past, fearlessly, diving headlong into the enemy. Crabfeeder died that way. And Aemond would. Both where on a beach, who slowly raised and became a hill, whose opposite face was the cliffside both dragons had blackened. Every peice of land around them was scorched, and several of the merling king's spears had been shattered.

[Gandalfus]

Aemond's head spun, his nose stung, and his joints ached. Coughing and spluttering, he barely recovered in time to parry the strike of Dark Sister - the clash of metal producing a clang as the castle forged steel struggled against the magical alloy of Valyria. Turning a few more blows, Aemond hissed as Dark Sister nicked his leg, and he stepped backwards, retreating up the rocky cliffs of the bay whilst fending off the relentless attacks of Daemon. Panting heavily, The One Eyed Prince pointed his sword at his adversary, and spoke venomously.

"Come then, Kingslayer. All men must die. Even you." His voice was worn and tired, yet determined. They would finish what they had started here, even if it meant both of them would die. Scarred and blackened was the land in which they fought, and now the two greatest dragons since Balerion lay dead in the murky depths of Blackwater bay. Surely all of Kings Landing must have witnessed their airborne duel, the titanic duel shaping the land itself. But now it would end.

[Oznerol]

"Kings---layer a---nd Kinslayer! It---doesn't ma---tter! Of all the sins I've co---mmited to there weren't two more pleasant!"

Said Daemon in turn as he swung the light and swift Dark Sister, showering Aemond's with blows. The Valyrian sword was almost part of Daemon's arm, he wielded it with ease and skill. However, the Prince had a wounded arm and wasn't as young as his adversary, and the one-eyed Targaryen achieved to deliver few blows that almost broke Daemon's guard, including one that left his right flank insensitive, even if the armor absorved most of the damage few ribs were broken. Daemon now breathed heavily.

"Die...you...bastard!"

Dark Sister again danced around Aemond, a swift rain of steel; albeit the Prince's defense had more and more gaps. The Rogue Prince attacked like a viper, his swordmanship was fluid, like a dance, suited to the blade he had wielded since his very youth. His fame as one of the finest swords of the realm was surely well diserved. They were nearer and nearer to the cliff, charred and blackened by dragon's fire. Exhausted, Daemon's grip on his sword appeared to be weaker. The night was filled by a sound, the song of the clashing steel.

[Gandalfus]

While Daemon was wounded, Aemond had been as well. The fluid dance of blades had tired Aemond severely with his much heavier blade, and he had been left with a few deep cuts all over his body. The two fighters were covered in each other's blood as they clashed, pushing each other back with rapid attacks. The two princes were among the finest swordsmen in Westeros, and it showed. But Dark Sister was more light and fluid than Aemond's greatsword, the flurry of quick attacks driving Aemond onto the defensive, forcing him to retreat up the cliff as he did so. The two duellists had almost reached the blackened cliff's edge, where one could see the massive extent of the damage that had been wrought upon the landscape by the two Princes. It was atop these cliffs that the fate of these two men would be decided.