Fire Over the Capital
King's Landing burned like the sun had fallen.
From the Blackwater Bay to the Red Keep's shadow, towers glowed red with unnatural light. Above them, a vast, skeletal dragon of fire circled a creature made of smoke and molten flame, its wings cutting through the clouds like molten blades.
People screamed in the streets below, praying to gods that no longer answered.
Lily Lannister stood on the balcony of the Red Keep, her crown melting slightly from the heat, her face calm.
The firelight painted her gold, as if she herself had become a living flame.
Qyburn knelt at her feet, sweat streaming down his face.
"Your Grace, the creature obeys only your command. But its hunger grows"
"Then let it feed," she said. "Let it burn everything that denies my name."
She turned her gaze northward. The horizon was dark, the wind carrying frost.
"Let them come. I'll give them a welcome worthy of gods."
And above her, the dragon roared a sound so vast it made the sea catch fire.
The Northern Host
The Northern army had reached the Riverlands.
The Trident glimmered beneath a sky thick with ash. The water steamed, half-frozen, half-boiling a sign that the war of gods had already begun.
Job Snow rode at the front, Ghost padding silently at his side. His armor was scorched black, veins of frost glinting along its edges.
Beside him, Althea's cloak fluttered feathers woven with silver threads that caught the dying light. Her expression was unreadable, eyes fixed on the south as if she could already see the fires of King's Landing through the haze.
"You feel it too," Jon said.
"Yes. Her power spreads like infection. But it's not just hers anymore."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The thing she's bound it remembers Valyria. It remembers the gods we destroyed."
Job's grip on his reins tightened. "Then we end it here."
"No," she said softly. "We end her first."
The Council of Frost
In their war tent, the air was so cold the breath of every man shimmered white.
The lords of the North, the Riverlands, and even a few Ironborn stood around the war table, their eyes reflecting the flickering map flames.
Lynn's Mormont stood on a stool, scowling at the markings.
"If that thing flies over us, we're ashes before dawn."
"Then we make dawn come first," Job said. "We strike before she's ready."
Tom laughed harshly. "Ready? That woman's sitting on a volcano made of dragons! There's no ready."
But Althea raised her hand. The room fell silent.
"We won't win by steel," she said. "We'll win by truth."
"Truth?" Davos repeated.
"The fire that fuels her beast isn't from this world. It's drawn from the same place my power comes from the Dreaming Realm. If I cut her connection to it, the dragon will die."
Job turned to her. "And if she kills you before that?"
Her lips curved faintly. "Then you'll finish what I started."
The Fire Descends
They marched at dawn.
Snow mixed with ash as they approached the ruins of Harrenhal a field of twisted towers and blackened stone.
And from the sky, the fire-dragon descended.
It blotted out the sun. Its wings stretched wider than castles, its roar splitting mountains. When it opened its mouth, rivers boiled, and the first ranks of soldiers were turned to ash before they could scream.
"Form ranks!" Job shouted, raising Longclaw.
The blade glowed faintly blue the frost of the Old Gods running through its steel.
Althea lifted her hands, and the air around her shimmered. The snow rose like a shield, twisting into a wall of ice that met the flames in midair.
The two forces collided fire and frost, light and shadow the world itself screaming at their touch.
Gods of the Field
Job and Althea fought as one.
Where he struck, the ground froze. Where she moved, shadows bent and light fractured.
Together they carved through the battlefield, the air ringing with the sound of breaking worlds.
Above them, the fire-dragon wheeled and screamed each beat of its wings creating shockwaves that threw men into the air.
Althea closed her eyes. "It's not real. It's a memory given form."
She raised her hand and the world stopped.
Snow hung in midair. Fire froze mid-flame.
Job stared, awed. "What are you doing?"
"Unraveling the dream."
Threads of gold light bled from her fingertips, reaching toward the beast. Each one hissed as it touched flame.
For a heartbeat, the dragon faltered flickered and in its place, Job saw a man's shadow, tall, proud, crowned in molten gold.
"It's her father," Althea whispered. "Argon reborn through her hatred."
Job's eyes widened. "Then it's time to kill a king."
The Fire Queen's Fall
In the Red Keep, Lily felt the connection strain.
Blood streamed from her nose, her eyes glowing red.
"No!" she screamed. "You are mine!"
But across the realm, Althea's magic tore through the Dreaming link cutting thread after thread of divine flame.
Lily fell to her knees, clutching her crown as if it might anchor her to reality.
"You can't take this from me!"
Her voice echoed in Althea's mind, distant yet furious.
"You never owned it," Althea whispered back.
And with that, she pulled the last thread.
The dragon screamed a sound that cracked the sky and then it shattered, its body breaking into a thousand sparks that rained down like dying stars.
For the first time in months, the flames over the capital dimmed.
Aftermath
The battlefield was silent.
Job stood amid the ashes, his armor blackened, his sword smoking.
Althea knelt nearby, blood on her lips, her skin pale as frost.
He rushed to her, catching her before she fell.
"Stay with me."
She smiled weakly. "The fire's gone."
"Because of you."
"Because of us," she whispered.
Behind them, the Northern army raised its banners half burned, half frozen but victorious.
In the distance, thunder rolled, not from storm but from something older, deeper.
The gods, watching.
"It's not over," Althea murmured. "The Dreaming Realm knows what I've done. They'll come for me."
Job's voice was steady. "Then they'll have to go through me first."
The Lion's Silence
Far to the south, in the darkened throne room, Lily sat alone.
The Iron Throne steamed, its heat fading. Her crown was cracked. Her hands trembled.
She looked at the shadow of her dragon burning away against the night sky and for the first time in years, she was afraid.
"So it begins," she whispered. "The gods' war."