Chapter 47
VALARR TARGARYEN
Unlike the First Blackfyre Rebellion, there were no grand battles or marches. This was to be a war of attrition. A war of attrition that they were losing. The enemy had spent years preparing for this war, and the simple truth was that they had cornered their House.
Valarr had hoped that Lord Brynden's victory at Whitheall would be the end of this damn thing, but it was just another ploy of their enemy; for now, they had taken control of Dragonstone and named a new King after killing his uncle and his family.
The capital was under a naval blockade, and House Targaryen was in perhaps the most dire situation it had been in the last hundred years. The situation had become so dire that his own father had been forced to leave the capital to lead a second host, and yet he wondered if he just might be too late in the end.
"HOLD THE LINE!" he screamed, as screams of men filled the night. Lyonel must have learned about his father's host as well, and so it was obvious that the man could wait no more.
Attacking him like this put the man at a disadvantage, but Lyonel had more men. Nearly three or four times his own host, and the man had spent the last few moons harassing his men, leaving them rather exhausted.
The news of Dragonstone's fall and the capital coming under a blockade had not helped much either, as his men began losing their morale. It was obvious to them that the Crown was at a disadvantage, and so Valarr found his leadership being tested as Lyonel's armies crashed into his wall.
"HOLD THE LINE!" he screamed once more, as his archers rained down arrows on the advancing host. Instead of relying on the rather narrow bridge, Lyonel had chosen to march his armies down the shallow part of the river.
It was a gamble, but one he should have expected out of a man of his stature. Valarr's army had to hold the line, for it would be advantageous to him for Lyonel's armies to remain on the River for as long as possible.
Wendwater was not in full flow, but it was a river nonetheless. Crossing it was not without risk, and while his men were in the river, his archers could target them easily and rain down arrows on them.
"HOLD...."
"AGHHH!" But before he could finish the order, he saw the lines break as a massive giant of a man tore through his men in a burst.
"FURYYYYY!" he roared, and he could recognize that armor easily. The helm, fashioned with the horns of a stag. He had seen it before.
"They have broken through!" Valarr roared as he pushed down his visor and reached for his blade.
"GIVE THEM FIRE AND BLOOD!" he roared, and the two armies clashed with one another in a bloody affair. War was not a glorious battle as history often painted it to be. It was a bloody messy affair, and the darkness of the night only made it messier and bloodier.
Men came at him from the side, and Valarr parried their blows when he could or used his shield if possible. The fires came later, and the forest around them began to burn as more and more of the Baratheon army began to cross the river and come at them.
Valarr could see his forces getting overwhelmed. He could hear their screams, and yet he could do nothing. By now, he was drenched in blood and sweat.
"HOLD! HOLD!" he roared, hoping that the men would gather around him, but the effort was futile.
It was a rout. By breaking their wall, Lyonel had taken advantage, and the man had pressed hard. By now, Valarr's vanguard was gone, and they were being decimated by the Baratheon hoard.
His father's host was a day away, and so in this moment he decided to back down.
"Retreat!" he ordered as he pushed back one of his attackers. As they turned back to follow, he saw him standing there,
His armor was covered in blood, and he was laughing wildly as he pushed his blade through the visor of one of Valarr's men. Their eyes met, and the Laughing Storm's laughs died down as Valarr saw the Baratheon men begin to gather around him.
He prepared himself for a fight when Lyone's voice cut through the screams.
"HE IS MINE!" he ordered, and the men immediately backed off, as Valarr held his sword with all the strength he could muster.
"I must say, I am quite disappointed," Lyonel Baratheon began as the two of them began to circle one another, as Lyonel shook his head.
"I had hoped that you would at least have some of your brother's brilliance, but alas, you are nothing," and the words pained him, and he did not much like the insult.
"The war is not over yet," Valarr countered, and he believed that more than half his men would have been able to retreat, and if they were to join up with his father's host, then he would be able to defeat Lyonel's army.
"The war was over the day we captured your wife," and the reminder of his failure did not sit right with him as Valarr bit his lip.
"You will pay for this, Lord Baratheon. You all will," and the man shook his head.
"I already have," and with that, the man came at him hard. Lyonel Baratheon was a big man, and he was not called the Laughing Storm for nothing. Despite his size, the man moved like a storm, and his blows were strong enough to rattle his entire arm.
Valarr stumbled slightly as he parried one of his strikes with his blade before he raised his shield to block another one. The wood splintered because of the force of the attack, as a dull ache raced through his bones.
But he did not back down, as he tried to counter him. Lyonel dodged his blade, which slipped past his chest plate, as Lyonel suddenly raised his leg and kicked him hard.
"GUGH!" Valarr grunted as the man began to come down at him like a raging bull. He refused to let him gather his bearings as he continued to swing his sword at him like a madman.
His shield held up for some time, but on the tenth blow, the wood split in half, and as Valarr tried to counter desperately, he aimed for the man's helmet. But Lyonel jumped back, and Valarr's blade hit the helm's edge, cutting through its decorative horns, and his foot slipped, and he began falling to the ground headfirst, but before he could hit the ground, Lyonel swung his leg at him, hitting him hard in the face.
The helmet protected him from the worst of it, but such was the force that the metal was dented by the strike as Valarr rolled on the ground, while his head spun. He tried to push himself back up, but the Baratheon man did not relent as he kicked him again, this time in the abdomen.
"GUGH!" he rolled on the ground a few more times, his sword now long lost, and the dented helmet made it difficult to breathe, forcing him to push it back. His ribs were broken, and his arm was no better as blood dripped down his hair.
Lyonel Baratheon came forward as he tried to push himself up, but was pushed down hard on his foot.
Pain raced through his entire being as blood began to pool in his mouth as Lyonel took off his helm.
"Shame," he taunted, as those blue eyes narrowed onto him.
"You are not even half the man your brother is," and Valarr bit his lip.
"You will die for this," and the man chuckled at his answer.
"You think your father's armies can win this war?" and the man began to laugh.
"Baelor Breakspear was a great man once, but old age comes for us all. From what I have heard, the man is a shell of his former self." Valarr knew that better than most.
"I know, but it is not my father I speak of," and he spat the blood pooled in his mouth as he met Lyone's eyes.
"Matarys will come. He will defeat you all," and Lyonel shrugged.
"Your brother is a coward! A coward and a cheat who refuses to show himself even as we slaughter his whole family," and Valarr refused to believe that.
"He will come," and if not today, then tomorrow, and if not tomorrow, then years from now. But he would come.
"He will, and once he does, he will kill you all!" The man raised his blade and put it on his neck.
"I will deal with him as w...," yet the man could not finish his words, as a loud roar cut through the clearing, startling them all. The men around them began to splutter, as the very ground shook with the force of that roar, and hope began to fill his heart.
"What was that?" he saw Lyonel Baratheon wonder, as a massive shadow passed over them, and though he could make out nothing, he knew in his heart what it was, or more accurately, who it was.
Using the distraction, he kicked Lyonel in the leg before quickly rolling to the side. The man fell to his knees as Valarr pushed himself off the ground and began to rush towards the river.
The two men there were too slow to react as Valarr pushed past them, and Lyonel Baratheon shouted loudly.
"Shoot him!" and he was running with sheer desperation, as he felt the men knock their bows and aim them squarely at his back. Still, he did not stop, and suddenly he heard the arrows go loose. One of them hit the ground to his side, and another one pierced his leg, making him fall to the ground.
But before they could send another barrage, a massive beast landed in front of him, and the very ground shook hard because of its weight, as Valarr saw hints of silver scales underneath that layer of rock and silt.
The Baratheon men cowered in fear at the sight of a dragon, yet Lyonel was not to be stopped. The man stepped forward, even as the dragon's roar shook the air.
"So, you finally show yourself," he screamed towards the man riding atop the massive beast.
"A dragon," the Baratheon lord scoffed.
"If you truly are a dragon, then come down here and have the courage to face me like a man," and for a second he wondered if he just might do it.
That Matarys just might come out, but the dragon purred as his brother's voice cut through the clearing.
"I called you friend once, Lyonel," his brother said with genuine melancholy.
"You are no friend of mine," Lyonel retorted.
"I know," Matarys answered easily.
"You are a traitor now," Matarys began.
"And I have no need to dirty my blade with the blood of a traitor," and no matter the size of his army, the battle had been decided the second Matarys had appeared with his dragon.
"SILVERWING!" and now he spoke in High Valyrian, as Valarr finally realized the dragon's true identity.
"DRACARYS....."
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