Chapter 81 - The Dragonborn's revenge will begin.

[Chapter Size: 3100 Words.]

Third Person POV.

Kingsland.

...

...

The monster's sound quickly ceased, as all the foliage seemed to stop as well, and the forest was once again enveloped in absolute silence.

"..."

Everyone stood motionless for a few seconds, unsure of how to react to what they had just heard.

"That... That was a monster?" Lancel murmured, stammering, gripping his trembling hand on the sword while his face turned pale. He was almost paralyzed with fear.

Meryn Trant was no different, as his face dripped with sweat, but he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, drawing it from its sheath. The other guards followed the royal guard's lead, unsheathing their weapons. The servants were terrified, huddling closely behind them.

Robert frowned, staring into the forest in absolute silence, seeing nothing beyond the vegetation, trying to understand what they had just heard. It did not sound like a colossal animal, but it was certainly large, and the sound was monstrous.

"Prepare to fight!" was all he said before dropping his crossbow from his hand – and even his wine skin – to take hold of the war hammer he always carried with him, which was with the servants. He moved once more to the front of the group, ready to face whatever was out there.

They were near the highest part of the forest, with the terrain sloping down about five meters to a lower area.

"My king, shouldn't we be turning back? This cannot be just any creature..." one of the guards questioned, his voice trembling.

"Not yet." Robert wanted to see with his own eyes what it was. He gripped the handle of his hammer tightly, preparing himself for whatever was about to emerge from the forest.

That was when they began to hear a new sound.

"It's coming! Prepare for battle!" Meryn Trant shouted, positioning his sword in a combat stance, gripping it with both hands.

All the soldiers – at least twelve men – positioned themselves in formation. The menacing sound grew louder.

"Let's leave, please..." Lancel pleaded, wanting to flee as quickly as possible, but his legs seemed paralyzed.

The sound of foliage shifting and branches breaking grew louder. The worst part was that it wasn't coming from just one point, but from several in front of them.

"Prepare yourselves!" Robert roared, raising his hammer.

In the next instant, there was an explosion of bushes being torn apart. Wild boars suddenly emerged—not just one, but an enormous group of them, charging furiously. Horrified screams echoed among the soldiers and servants.

"Bastards!" Robert raised his hammer and swung it downward, trying to crush the first boar that approached. However, he missed, as the creature was too fast, dodging and passing by his side.

The animals were advancing from all directions, evading his attacks. Robert attempted another strike, raising his hammer again, but he was unsuccessful.

His companions were not as lucky. Two men were caught off guard and brutally struck by the boars. Lancel, Ser Meryn Trant, and several others from the entourage were pushed or knocked down by the animals charging through them, paying no heed to what was in their way.

"Those bastards!" Robert growled, turning his body to retaliate, with none of the boars attacking him while his companions were being pushed aside.

But that movement was his greatest mistake.

A boar, even larger than any of the others, emerged from behind him. The king didn't even have time to react before feeling the violent impact of the charge. His massive body was thrown aside, like a rag doll rolling through the bushes.

He felt the world spin as he tumbled down the ravine shortly after. The sound of his men's terrified screams grew distant as Robert kept rolling, groaning in pain, his body crashing harshly against the ground until, finally, he hit the earth with force. A weak groan escaped his lips one last time.

He was out of breath.

"O... what is this...?" he murmured, unable to fully grasp what had just happened.

Robert struggled to get up, feeling the cold earth against his face. Groaning, he finally managed to stand, panting, looking around, disoriented.

The only thing he could hear was the distant voices of his companions.

They seemed to be getting farther and farther away from him. Now, he was alone.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group was running in all directions, frightened.

"What is happening here?" one of the guards murmured as the last boar passed and disappeared.

At last, Ser Meryn Trant let out a sigh upon seeing the boars moving away.

"What the hell was that?" Lancel approached him, shivering. No one had ever seen a herd of boars retreat like that... It was as if they were running from something.

"Is everyone alright?" some guards asked, approaching the Royal Guard.

"We are, but... The king is gone!" one of the soldiers exclaimed.

"What?! His Majesty is missing?" Panic began to spread as the soldiers shouted Robert's name, trying to search for him in the forest. However, the king simply did not respond.

"We should go back. We've strayed too far..." one of the guards murmured.

Ser Meryn Trant, though appearing somewhat frustrated, sighed and nodded. "Let's go back," he decided. After all, he did not want suspicions to fall on him for leaving the king behind—though his true goal was precisely to make Robert suffer an accident, it would be a blow to his honor in the eyes of all if he simply left things as they were.

However, as they approached the spot where they had been separated from the king, the atmosphere grew increasingly ominous.

"Hey... This is getting dangerous," Lancel whispered, feeling a shiver run down his spine.

"We must keep going..." His voice was shaky, but before he could continue, a new, thunderous roar echoed through the forest.

"ROOOOOOAAAAARRRR!"

For the second time, everyone jumped back—this time, far more terrified.

"Damn... That sound came from very close!" one of the guards murmured, trembling.

Lancel slowly raised his hand, trying to point at something within the shadows of the forest. His hand visibly trembled.

"L-look over there..." he spoke in a tearful voice.

When their gazes followed the direction he indicated, they all froze.

There, among the shadows of the trees, stood a gigantic creature—at least three meters tall. Its body was covered in white fur, its eyes glowed with a menacing red light, and its mouth opened slightly, revealing teeth as sharp as blades.

The beast watched them as if they were easy prey.

"What... What is that...?" one of the soldiers managed to murmur, feeling his throat go dry.

They couldn't quite identify the creature. It had the appearance of a wolf but moved on two legs, like a giant human.

Then, suddenly, a dark and ferocious voice echoed through the clearing:

"Look at what we have here... A pack of rats."

The creature's voice made the men's fear grow even more. This was, perhaps, the most horrifying thing they had ever seen in their lives.

That thing... That thing had just spoken to them!

"W-what are you?!" Ser Meryn Trant managed to stammer, gripping his trembling sword.

The creature did not answer. Instead, it growled and, with an agile movement, leaped onto a nearby tree, using the trunk to latch onto with its claws and propel itself forward before lunging toward the group.

"Atta—"

Before Meryn Trant could finish his command, the beast lunged at him.

The knight tried to raise his sword, but the creature was faster. With a single brutal movement, its claws tore through Meryn Trant's armor as if it were made of paper. Blood gushed from his arm, pierced by the beast's talons, as he dropped his sword.

The knight roared in pain and terror as he felt his chest being crushed under the creature's weight, its claw still embedded in his sword arm.

The beast's other arm moved swiftly, effortlessly sinking its claws into the golden armor, piercing his chest while blood splattered in every direction.

Meryn Trant looked at the other soldiers, pleading for help. But they were paralyzed with terror, frozen in place, before he let out one final agonized grunt.

Lancel and the other guards didn't even know how to react. In an instant, they spun on their heels and ran as fast as they could—their instincts told them their lives depended on it.

The creature merely watched. Its gaze fell upon the fallen knight, who was still trembling, his eyes filled with fear and pain. The werewolf decided to end it quickly and, with a swift motion, pulled its claws from the knight's arm and plunged them into his neck, finishing the job.

The monster lifted the corpse and tossed it aside with no ceremony, the great knight of the Seven Kingdoms falling like a lifeless doll. Then, it turned its glowing eyes toward the fleeing soldiers, but it did not bother to pursue them. Killing a royal guard was enough to draw attention.

Its gleaming eyes shifted toward the distance—where the king had separated from the group.

Robert was still wandering, lost in the forest. His body ached from the fall down the ravine, and his voice had not fully returned, which was why he hadn't even tried calling out to his men.

However, the roars and the screams of terror he heard in the distance made his blood run cold. His instincts screamed at him to run, and he obeyed.

He was afraid—something that, despite being a warrior, was not unfamiliar to him. But there was something different about this forest. Something... wrong.

He kept moving, even as his body felt heavy and exhausted. He didn't know how long he had been walking, but he was certain something was following him. His years of battle had sharpened his instincts enough to know when he was being watched.

Minutes stretched into hours as he continued trying to get away, yet he found no more animals in the forest—not even the birds seemed to be there anymore.

With every step, hunger and thirst became unbearable. Then, finally, the sound of running water caught his attention.

Robert did not hesitate and followed the sound, driven by the desperate need to moisten his parched throat. His eyes still scanned the forest behind him, wary, feeling the weight of that unseen gaze that followed him.

Without delay, he pushed forward until he found a more open area, where a river flowed before him.

He looked at nothing else. Perhaps that was why he failed to notice the massive shadow beside him—not from a tree, but something far larger.

Robert kneeled at the riverbank, plunged his hands into the water, and splashed it onto his face before drinking greedily. His exhausted body absorbed every drop as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.

"I... need to get out of here..." he murmured, frightened, trying to think more clearly now that his throat was finally soothed.

That was when he realized.

The reflection in the water.

It wasn't just his own face.

In the next instant, he froze.

Beside him stood a colossal creature.

A towering white silhouette, rising several meters above the ground. Its long neck curved over Robert, observing him intently. His gaze slowly traveled upward, away from the water, taking in the gigantic body—the four powerful legs firmly planted on the ground, the massive wings folded at its sides.

And then, the red eyes.

Piercing. Cold.

Robert felt his breath falter.

"D-dragon..."

He jumped back in pure terror, falling onto his back on the ground as he stared at the creature, which was over twenty meters long.

The dragon did not move. It simply remained there, watching him, as if evaluating a mere insect.

"You see... This is my dragon."

A voice emerged, and Robert, still on the ground, widened his eyes in shock. He turned to the side and saw a man approaching. He had black hair and violet eyes, wearing a cloak, though his face was no longer concealed. His gaze was fixed on the King of Westeros, carrying a certain interest.

"You..." Robert murmured, his voice laden with confusion and accusation. He recognized that appearance.

Jon Snow. Or, at least, someone who looked exactly as he should.

"Yes, it's me," Jon spoke calmly. "But not as you know me, nor as Lord Stark describes me."

Robert felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of the man's voice.

"We haven't seen each other since Winterfell, King of Westeros. How have you been?" Jon asked, a slight smile forming on his lips. "I hear you've been looking for me... You're having quite a hard time with that, especially now that your city is in chaos."

"It... It was you, wasn't it?" Robert did not hesitate to accuse him, his eyes narrowing.

Jon merely smiled.

"Perhaps..."

Robert clenched his fists. "You're working for that dragonspawn, aren't you?! You're with the Targaryens!" he growled, trying to muster some courage.

Jon, however, let out a loud laugh.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

A genuine laugh, as if he had just heard the most amusing thing in the world.

"Don't fool yourself, King of Westeros," he said, his laughter fading as he locked eyes with Robert. "I am not with the Targaryens."

Jon paused briefly before his smile widened even more.

"After all... I am a Targaryen."

Robert felt a chill shoot through his body.

"Do you not see this dragon? It belongs to me."

Jon spoke casually, watching closely the reaction of the man who had killed his father on the battlefield.

Robert remained still, his eyes fixed on him. Silence hung in the air for a few seconds as he tried to process what he had just heard.

Perhaps the connection had always been there. Perhaps it had been right in front of him the entire time, but his blind trust in his friend, Ned Stark, was so unwavering that he had never even considered the possibility...

'It can't be...' he murmured to himself.

If that boy was a Targaryen, there was only one explanation. Ned couldn't have fathered a child with a Targaryen woman—after all, the only one at the time was Rhaella, who had been on Dragonstone during the war.

"Yes..."

Jon broke the silence.

"You killed my father at the Trident. You buried your hammer in his chest while he spoke the name of Lyanna... My mother."

Robert was petrified.

Jon crossed his arms, his voice calm, devoid of rage or excessive emotion. He was simply stating the facts.

"I was born in the Tower of Joy, in Dorne," he continued, keeping his eyes locked on Robert. "Or did you never find it odd that Lyanna Stark 'died of fever' right after my uncle brought her body to King's Landing?"

The king remained speechless.

"Or rather..." Jon took a step forward. "Did you never wonder why three Kingsguard were protecting her if she was just a kidnapped woman?"

Robert's silence was deafening.

Then, an explosion of rage and hatred—something he had never felt before—began to rise within him. The seed of that damned dragon had been conceived with his beloved Lyanna.

Everything became clear.

Lyanna... his beloved, the woman he had always sworn to love, had given birth to a child he had never even suspected, thinking the boy's eye color came from Ashara Dayne. After all, there had been rumors of Ned having a relationship with her.

And at the same time, his best friend, Ned Stark, had hidden this from him all these years.

Robert was not a fool. He knew exactly what this meant.

He could choose to give in to the weight of that truth and fall into despair...

Or he could choose rage.

And he chose rage.

"You are a DRAGONSPAWN!" Robert roared with all his might, his face red with fury.

Jon, however, merely gave a small, closed-lip smile.

He seemed... entertained by it.

But Robert could not utter another word. Because, in the next instant, the dragon that had been beside him all along moved.

The king realized, too late, that he had completely forgotten about the colossal beast silently watching everything.

The creature simply lunged at him.

Then, it roared.

"ROAAAAAAAAAARRR!"

The sound was louder than any roar he had ever heard before.

The sheer force of the sound sent Robert crashing onto his back, his legs failing instantly. His ears felt like they were about to burst from the pain—the world around him became a deafening echo.

Compared to that creature, he was insignificant, while its teeth could tear him apart with a single bite.

The roar continued for several seconds, making the king curl up on the ground, hands covering his ears, eyes shut tight, like a terrified child.

The roar echoed for miles. Even people outside the Kingswood heard it. Many in King's Landing also heard that terrible sound.

"Stand down," Jon's voice rang out in the ancient tongue.

The dragon immediately withdrew its face from Robert, who still trembled on the ground.

Jon raised an eyebrow, observing the scene. Then, he simply lifted his hand—and, with no effort at all, used telekinesis to pull the king from the ground.

Robert didn't even have time to understand what was happening. And before he could react, his body was hurled closer to Jon.

Away from the river.

After all, Jon did not want his prey trying to throw himself into the water to escape.

"Well..." Jon crossed his arms. "Recover when you can. After all, we have plenty of time."

His eyes glowed dangerously.

"We're going to have a long conversation, King of Westeros."

Jon wasn't here just for his father. Nor just for his mother.

He had siblings.

Siblings who were hunted down, slaughtered like animals.

And this man, Robert Baratheon, had not personally taken part in it, but he had laughed at the mutilated bodies of innocent babies and had never sought justice or a fair trial for the men who had done it.

He had called them dragonspawn, mocked their deaths as if they were meaningless.

Perhaps, if things had been different, this could have ended another way.

But that was not the case.

The Dragonborn had returned.

And everyone involved would pay.

Robert would be the first to feel the fury of the Dragonborn.

A fury that carried the thirst for vengeance.

Vengeance for a family he had never known, but whose blood he shared.

And someone had to avenge them.

-------------Nexts Chapters ----------------

Chapter 86 - A Conversation with Lord Stark.

Chapter 91 - The trial of Lord Stark 01.

Chapter 101 - Destroying the Clegane's Keep.

Chapter 110 - Braavos.

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