[Chapter Size: 2400 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Iron Islands.
...
...
Daemon moved forward while staring at the men before him. All of them stepped back for a moment, but they seemed more afraid of Winter, the dragon, than of Daemon himself, who showed a hint of amusement on his face even knowing this.
"What do we have here? The rabble of the ironborn protecting their lord's castle. I am here now with the northerners and others to demand payment for what you did in the North...", he said. His words echoed with a dangerous tone, and Winter lifted his wings behind him, leaving Daemon alone before the crowd.
For a moment, no one said anything. Little by little, however, the ironborn's eyes began to regain courage now that the dragon was no longer there. Daemon only smiled, waiting for the enemies to advance.
"What is dead may never die! Attack!", one of the leaders shouted.
Immediately they all charged at Daemon, who tightened his grip on the axe as a layer of ice began to form over the blade, expanding it, making it as sharp as metal itself. Daemon simply pulled the axe back as the crowd rushed toward him from both sides at the castle entrance. He aimed to one side and threw the axe — now with a much larger blade made of ice.
The ironborn looked on in horror before the axe reached the first of them, cutting through him as if he were nothing due to its speed and spin. Screams of fear echoed as a line of blood spread.
Daemon looked toward the other side of the crowd running at him without taking his eyes off what he had just done with the axe.
"Yol Toor Shul!" He simply leaned back and unleashed his Thu'um, releasing a wave of fire as if he were the dragon himself. The crowd was swallowed by the flames that surged like a giant blaze hurled forward: at least hundreds of men were devoured by them, dying instantly, while dozens more were killed by the leviathan's massive axe cutting men in half.
Chaos overtook the place with cries of lamentation from all sides.
When the axe finally lost momentum, Daemon lifted his hand and called it back. The weapon flew directly into his hand as he looked over the field before him.
Bodies lay on the ground, fallen, dismembered. Others were charred, the smell of burnt flesh filling the air.
Those who survived the massacre that happened in an instant looked in terror at Daemon, who held the newly returned axe while his eyes swept over them all, waiting for someone to have the courage to challenge him again. But no one did; in that moment, the ironborn found something no human could face.
Daemon walked calmly across the field of fire, mutilated and burned bodies, looking directly toward the castle.
There was a precipice between him and the entrance, with the raised drawbridge that served as the castle's access bridge, obviously blocking his passage. This did not discourage him.
He raised his hand toward the bridge; his telekinesis spell seized it and immediately forced the gate. Daemon began to focus on the chains that held it. The men inside were completely desperate after what they had just witnessed.
"You saw that? He's right in front of us!"
"He burned everyone out there!"
"We… what is he doing now pointing at us?! What is he?",
the men whispered, but their words were cut short when, suddenly, the chains holding the bridge began to strain. All of them watched in horror, unable to understand what was happening.
"What? What's going on?!", one of the soldiers shouted in terror.
"The bridge is giving way!", another yelled, as the chains cracked more and more, being pulled by an invisible force. The thick wood of the drawbridge began to creak, being forced to move with the chains snapping against their will.
Those who were outside witnessed Daemon pointing at the bridge, and they began to tremble. The bridge yielded more and more, visibly to everyone.
The ironborn looked at Daemon as if he were some kind of god now. The man was forcing open the gate of one of the most reinforced castles in Westeros with an invisible power — and they were all witnessing it.
"What are you doing?! Fire! Don't let him open the gate!", shouted one of the castle's guard leaders atop the towers. Even without understanding how the man mounted on the dragon was doing that, they attempted to stop him.
Arrows were quickly fired at Daemon. He raised his other hand, the same one that held the axe without hindering his magic, creating a shield like a wall in front of him with his alteration magic, and the arrows simply struck the magical barrier without piercing it.
The bridge came closer and closer to giving way until it finally broke when Daemon forcefully pulled his hand back, bringing the gate with it in a loud snap as the chains tore apart.
The bridge fell before everyone, while those behind him watched in horror, seeing the man now standing before the gate that served as passage to them.
"Fo Krah Diin!" Daemon placed one leg forward and took a deep breath. He did not hesitate as he unleashed his second Shout.
A burst of ice exploded from his voice, launching a freezing beam directly at the men just as the flames had earlier, but this time it was a blazing torrent identical to the one Winter unleashed. The victims saw only the white layer swallowing them, preventing any attempt at defense; even their shields were nothing against the frostfire.
The men inside froze instantly, dying in a way different from the flames but just as deadly. The gate itself, now serving as a bridge, was covered in layers of ice. Daemon simply took a step forward, continuing ahead, looking at the archers who could no longer fire arrows, watching him walk calmly as if there were no difficulty at all in stopping Daemon from advancing into the castle.
After that, the men who were outside began to flee — no one wanted to face that monster. Not when, suddenly, a roar came from inside the castle the moment Daemon entered and became invisible to everyone outside who had witnessed everything.
Even the dragon roared in the sky as if in response. The ironborn would never forget that day, at least the few who survived.
Down by the shore, the ships coming from the North finally reached the beach.
As soon as the men disembarked, the ironborn who had survived the first attack on the port quickly gathered on that side of the island. There were at least fifteen hundred of them and, even knowing they were at a disadvantage, they still advanced, beginning to shoot arrows at the northerners coming off the ships.
"Quick! Don't stop!", shouted Lord Tallhart, while Lord Glover tried to organize the troops.
"Let's kill these sons of bitches!", shouted Tormund beside the free folk, as his men advanced using all their shields.
"Go, go, go!", yelled another leader of the free folk, running. Tallhart did not stay behind either, sending the northerners forward with his immense strength. Some giants advanced as well, with Wun Wun himself present, running toward the ironborn who stared in shock at the four giants raising enormous wooden shields they had brought with them.
Even the direwolves, who were with the leaders, charged forward to sink their teeth into the enemies' necks.
All eight thousand men advanced against the enemy line, and a battle erupted in the middle of the beach while the ironborn tried at all costs to stop the enemy advance — but it seemed useless. They were severely outnumbered: eight thousand men against the fifteen hundred who remained after the dragon's fire.
Inside the castle, in the salt throne room, Balon Greyjoy shouted at his men after hearing that the entrance had fallen.
"Just one man? You are telling me that just one man is bringing down the entire castle?!", he roared, furious but also afraid.
"My lord, I saw him massacre dozens of men using his weapon! And then I saw him kill hundreds more breathing fire and ice! He brought down the gate with magic, my lord! None of the archers could hit him! He is a monster!", cried one man desperately in front of Balon, who made a horrified grimace.
The dragon's roar echoed through the windows, and everyone immediately froze, the sound seeming to make the entire castle tremble.
"He is just one man! Why can't anyone stop him?!", Balon bellowed, while more men ran through the corridors and burst through the double doors into the room, alerting Balon's guards.
"My king! King Balon! There is a monster inside the castle! A giant wolf that moves like a man! I swear I saw it!", shouted one of them, desperate — and from the look on their faces, it was clear they were not exaggerating. Hearing this, Balon and the others grew even more uneasy.
"A monster? What is it now?!", exclaimed Balon.
"I'm telling you, King Balon! There is a giant humanoid wolf, walking on two legs and slaughtering all of us! We were some of the few who survived!", said another man, as more soldiers entered the room in desperation.
"There's a monster in the castle!", they all repeated with the same news as the first who arrived, leaving those who had not seen the werewolf even more uneasy.
They didn't even truly know the stories about Daemon turning into a wolf, and what they had heard, they believed to be merely figurative — that a man being able to transform into a wolf was nothing more than a tale. They did not believe those stories literally… until that day.
A roar echoed through the corridors, making everyone inside shiver.
"He's coming… Close the entrance door!", said a trembling man.
Everyone looked toward the entrance, and some of the soldiers, desperate, began to shut the doors, placing a huge wooden log between them to bar it, even without Balon's command.
None of them wanted to face that creature. All stepped back from the entrance, waiting for whatever it was to attempt breaking down the door.
Swords trembled. Balon watched it all, horrified. He couldn't even bring himself to say anything to his men, all equally shaking.
"Open! Help us! The monster is coming!"
Screams came from the other side, men pounding on the door, hoping to be saved.
"ROAAARRRR"
"AHHH"
They heard the roar and screams right after, everyone inside listening. Then, silence followed…
The only audible thing was the heavy breathing of those present and the sound of swords held in trembling ironborn hands.
Some began to pray silently to the Drowned God, sweat dripping down the heads of dozens of men.
BOOOM
The sound against the door jolted everyone.
An explosion struck the door with force, pushing it forward, while the wood that held it — even though it was a thick log — began to crack slowly. Before it returned to place, another blow thundered, cracking the wood even more, though it still hadn't given way.
"The door won't hold!", announced a man — the obvious — because in the next moment, the door simply took an even stronger impact. The wood offered no resistance; it just shattered, and both doors were hurled backward, and everyone saw the creature… the werewolf. Just as they had described, the wolf standing on two legs.
A wolf in the shape of a man, over three meters tall, muscular, with white fur and red eyes, holding a weapon shaped like an axe, coated with a layer of ice.
"By the gods…", a priest of the Drowned God who was present murmured, taking a step back, terrified. Never in his life had he imagined seeing such a thing. Balon looked horrified and trembling as well.
The wolf looked directly at him with those red eyes.
"What do we have here? Balon Greyjoy, the mighty king of the Salt Throne… trembling like a little girl," the wolf said, frightening the men even more.
"Wh-who are you?", Balon asked, half trembling. It didn't matter that more than thirty armed men were in that room — before that creature, they were nothing.
"In what other form do you know me, Balon? I am Daemon Targaryen, the man who flew here on top of the dragon and carved his way through your entire kingdom. Well… you should know I have many powers. And one of them is turning into a giant wolf."
He smiled, showing his teeth. "Ironic, isn't it?"
"I am here to kill you. You attacked the wolves of the North… and now the wolf himself standing before you will terrify you in your final moments of life, Balon Greyjoy."
He waited no longer. He simply charged at the men before any response could be given.
The men tried to defend themselves, but the Leviathan Axe, now coated in ice, became even more lethal in his hands when he transformed into a werewolf, slicing through them as if they were nothing, killing dozens with just a few movements, while others tried to flee, but there was no mercy in the wolf.
Balon stood frozen as he watched all his men being slaughtered like animals. The fight didn't last more than two minutes, and all who tried to surrender received no mercy.
"Please, don't kill me!", the priest himself, green with fear, screamed as he fell to the ground.
But the wolf's only answer was to slice his neck with the axe, giving him a swift death, before turning his gaze toward the last living being in that room.
Balon was there, trembling, unable even to stand or run.
The werewolf walked toward him. The ice on the Leviathan Axe began to melt away, turning it once more into a normal weapon. The giant creature started to change shape, shrinking in size and losing its fur until only Daemon stood there.
Daemon did not care about Balon's terrified expression. He simply grabbed him by the neck and hurled him away, making him fly several meters and hit the ground, groaning and screaming in pain.
Daemon then sat upon the Salt Throne and stared at Balon lying among bodies and blood, coughing and writhing from the impact. The king of the ironborn looked at Daemon in horror.
"In the end, you lost, Balon Greyjoy. You are no longer a rebel king in my realm, and I am here to condemn you," Daemon said, imposing upon the throne, staring at Balon as if he were nothing.
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