Chapter 49: The City of Fire and Blood
Spring, 301 AC
The dawn sky over King's Landing was painted in hues of crimson and gold, but beneath its beauty lay the promise of bloodshed. The Targaryen fleet had made landfall, and Aemon's forces stood at the gates of the capital. The Blackwater Rush was teeming with war galleys bearing the banners of House Targaryen and House Martell, while the Unsullied, the Dornish spearmen, and the Velaryon knights formed tight ranks along the siege lines. Above them, the dragons loomed—a nightmare reborn.
Across the battlements of King's Landing, the Lannister banners still flew, but those who stood beneath them trembled. Tywin Lannister, ever the master strategist, had reinforced the walls, manned the scorpions, and commanded the Gold Cloaks to hold their ground. But nothing could prepare them for what came next.
The storm had arrived.
The First Strike
The ground trembled as Aemon Targaryen rode through the lines, his black armor glinting in the morning sun. At his side, Daenerys Targaryen, clad in flowing crimson, guided Silverwing through the skies above the city. Aemon raised his sword high, the signal that would begin the greatest battle Westeros had seen in a generation.
Grey Worm, at the head of the Unsullied, gave the order. Battering rams, operated by elite soldiers, smashed into the Gate of the Gods, the main entrance into King's Landing. Flaming projectiles from catapults and scorpions rained down upon the attackers, striking shields and battering armor.
From atop the battlements, Jaime Lannister, golden armor shining, commanded the defense. He had fought against long odds before, and today would be no different. "Hold the line!" he roared as archers fired volley after volley into the advancing forces.
Aemon took to the sky atop Ancalagon, soaring above the battle. Below, the Dornish forces, led by Oberyn Martell, pushed forward. The Red Viper, wielding his deadly spear, cut down Lannister soldiers with fluid grace, his warriors matching his fury.
Fire Unleashed
It was time.
Aemon guided Ancalagon higher before tilting into a deadly dive. "Dracarys!" he commanded, and the beast obeyed. A stream of fire erupted from its maw, sweeping across the first line of defense, setting the battlements ablaze. Screams filled the air as men burned, some leaping from the walls in desperation.
On the far side, Daenerys mirrored the attack, Silverwing igniting sections of the outer city, targeting barracks and Lannister strongholds. Parts of Flea Bottom became an inferno, the slums consumed in chaos as smallfolk fled the destruction.
The Gold Cloaks, overwhelmed, began breaking ranks. Some threw down their swords, surrendering, while others attempted to flee deeper into the city. The Lannister forces, however, remained steadfast under Jaime's orders.
Aemon landed Ancalagon atop the Mud Gate, cutting down defenders as he dismounted. He led his elite warriors through the breach, Unsullied and Dornish spearmen pouring into the city behind him. The streets ran red with blood as the Targaryen forces pushed toward the Red Keep.
The Lannister Resistance
Though the walls had been breached, Tywin Lannister had not given up. Within the Red Keep, he marshaled his remaining forces, his mind racing through every possible scenario. Surrender was not an option—he would fight to the bitter end.
Jaime Lannister, his armor smeared with blood, fell back to defend the inner gate. He had seen his fair share of battles, but this was unlike anything before. For every soldier he cut down, three more took their place.
Aemon, blade dripping with the blood of Lannister men, met Jaime at the square before the Red Keep. Their eyes locked, the past and present colliding. "Yield," Aemon commanded.
Jaime gripped his sword tighter, breathing heavily. "I swore an oath to protect this city."
Aemon's expression hardened. "And now you'll watch it burn."
The City in Flames
The fires had spread beyond what Aemon had intended. The dragons' wrath had turned large swathes of the city into an inferno. Flea Bottom, the Street of Flour, and sections of the Dragonpit were ablaze.
In the chaos, smallfolk fled or looted the remnants of burning homes. Some begged for mercy, others for salvation.
Among them, a young boy clutched his mother's hand, tears streaming down his face as flames consumed their home. In a moment of rare compassion, Daenerys, still atop Silverwing, pulled the child up onto the dragon's saddle, saving him from the blaze.
Below, Aemon watched as the chaos spread. This was not the clean victory he had envisioned. War, as ever, had its price.
The Final Stand
With the city's outer defenses shattered, the final battle would be fought within the Red Keep itself. Tywin Lannister stood in his war chamber, hearing the distant screams, the clash of steel, and the cries of dying men.
His golden lion banners still hung proudly, but he knew—deep down—that they would soon be torn down. He turned to Tommen Baratheon, his grandson and the boy-king. "No matter what happens, you are a king," he said firmly.
Outside the gates, Aemon, his forces now in control of the city, marched toward the Red Keep.
The Iron Throne was within reach.