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—
Valyria
Robert landed the dragons on a square a mile away from the tower and checked the area. The dragons were restless, as expected, and so was he, but there was no movement he could hear around them.
In fact it was too silent, he thought, even for a city with nothing living left in it; hell, there wasn't even any wind.
Robert dismounted, unsheathing his sword, and told the dragons to stay. Obelisk put his massive head in front of him to stop Robert, followed by his brothers.
"I know you are worried, boys, but I will be fine." He scratched their heads and chins to soothe them. Taking a deep breath, Robert began to walk, scanning his surroundings. The eerie silence was unnerving, but he kept calm.
The buildings got more and more damaged as he walked towards the tower in the distance. Roads were uneven, with potholes and uneven parts caused by the time and the Doom.
Making his way past what appeared to be a blacksmith, Robert stopped as he heard the sound of metal hitting the ground. He slowly turned his head to the right, tense with his sword at the ready.
He approached slowly, waiting to see if anything would come out, or was it just his nerves? Unwilling to take a chance, Robert raised his foot to kick the blackened door open before something beat him to it.
A corpse, one that was of brown, dried-out skin and bones, burst through the door, mouth open in a mockery of a scream, and a white, slimy reptilian with the parody of a human face lashed at him like the tongue of a Xenomorph, screeching. Robert swung Nightblood, cutting the slimy abomination and the zombie's head in half. It fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, and both halves of the creature squirmed on the ground before going still.
Robert took a step back as the corpse's stomach bulged and contracted, bursting open with a stench so vile he almost puked. He was no stranger to bad smells; he was covered in the guts of his enemies and had burned many men alive, yet this stench was a thousand times worse than all of them combined.
Good thing he avoided breakfast.
The inside of the corpse was black and oozing sickly colored liquids, and dozens of these creatures, far smaller than the one he killed, slithered out of the corpse; some even had hands and were crawling towards him. Most died after a couple of seconds, most likely not grown enough, but some did come closer, and Robert stabbed and cut through the disgusting creatures with his sword.
"What the fuck?" he cursed, stepping far away from the corpse.
He was right in that they used human bodies to grow like parasites, but the knowledge brought him no closure.
He wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy.
Staying away from the corpse, he continued to the tower, wondering what the dragonlords did to fuck up so disastrously.
Robert moved even slower now, checking every building, nook, and cranny to avoid being swarmed by these creatures, because if one existed, more of them probably did as well.
It was like a magical zombie apocalypse survival mission; one mistake and a horde would be chasing him to death. Speaking of death, Grand Maester Benifer's records said they died in ice water, so perhaps he could draw them to a water source in case he was outnumbered too much to kill them all.
Stopping before a tower several stories high, Robert decided to go up to check the area from high ground and make some noise to see if he could draw out any zombies.
The metal door was rusted and took a bit of effort to push open. The inside was luxurious, which meant this tower used to belong to someone rich and influential.
White marble, decorated with depictions of dragons and Valyrians inlaid on the walls with gold and valuable gems, it was a monument to the vast riches the Dragonlords of old had acquired.
The second floor was just as lavish, and if Robert managed to clear the island, he was going to remove everything of value from here, even if he had to scrape the gold out with a chisel himself.
The third floor was a library, and it was well maintained, and while some of the books were damaged, the Valyrians seemed to take extra care to ensure no fire reached the room. At least those sisterfuckers understood the value of knowledge books could carry.
The fourth floor was where he found the family who owned the tower. They had died while seated around a table with golden plates, utensils, and gem-like glasses covered in dust. There were four of them, two adults and two children, though telling the genders was impossible.
There were also other people around the room, though from the chains around their necks, Robert would wager they were slaves. He knew Valyrians enslaved people to work in their mines, but they seemed to use them as servants too.
He watched the corpses from the door, wondering if they would move like the one he encountered earlier did, and wasn't disappointed. Slowly, the one sitting at the head of the table—the lord himself—raised his head, bones scraping on wood as the rest of the family and the slaves started to slowly rise as well.
Not that Robert was going to give them the chance. He attacked before the lord of the tower could get up from his chair, holding his breath as he split the head in half again, with the same creatures bursting out of the Valyrian's skull. The children and the other adult were next. He took the head of who he assumed was their mother and stabbed through the heads of the child-sized zombies, skewering both with a single thrust.
The rest of the zombies, with the chains around their necks, were having a hard time getting up, and Robert put them out of their misery quickly.
Knowing what was going to happen next, Robert raised the heavy table from one end and crushed the corpses of the Dragonlord family, ensuring those slimy abominations could not get to him.
The rest of the corpses, he simply threw out of the broken window, dragging them forward with Nightblood.
Robert made his way up and stopped, holding his breath and taking several gulps of air.
Fucking magic snake zombies.
The rest of the floors included a living place, a study, an entire playground for the children, and what he assumed was a place they used to practice blood magic on the slaves, if the corpse tied to the floor with weird glyphs around it was anything to go by.
He finally made it to the top of the tower and went to the balcony.
There were no zombies in sight, so he took several of the broken pieces of rock and threw them down. At first nothing happened, but after a while, the undead began to pour out of the houses, converging on the sound. The creatures poured out of the orifices of the corpses, most likely searching for the source.
Too many for him to even think of taking on by himself, Robert began to plan.
He could go and get the dragons to burn them down, but whatever hellish magic was responsible for their creation made Benifer describe them as creatures of heat and fire, and if they proved to be resistant to dragon fire, he would just destroy the bodies and scatter thousands of these little buggers all over the place, making the already precarious situation worse. So an alternative method would serve him better.
One of the towers straight ahead, smaller than this one, was leaning forward due to an eruption having taken a quarter of its foundation. If he could damage it enough, it would fall straight on the undead, crushing them and the creatures inside the walking corpses.
How was the issue?
He either had to destroy more of the tower for it to fall, which wasn't a good idea, or he could put something heavy at the top.
Robert happened to have three of them.
—
Making his way back to the dragons was hard; those bastards responded to every single sound, and a six-and-a-half-foot man wearing full plate armor was by no means subtle.
Tying rags he found around his feet to muffle his steps, Robert walked between buildings to avoid the creatures, which meant he had to be extra careful because there were a lot of places one of them could jump out.
Which happened when one of them showed its head out of the window right in front of him just as he was passing through a narrow road between the buildings to avoid a large group. It didn't notice him at first, as it was looking forward, but very quickly turned around, somehow sensing Robert.
Knowing he didn't have the necessary motion range to utilize Nightblood, Robert pulled out his hunting knife from his belt and stabbed the slimy bastard in its ugly face, nailing it to the corpse it was using as a host.
Squirming but unable to screech, the creature died, and the corpse became still, and he just pushed it inside the building again, continuing on his way.
The dragons were waiting and rushed at Robert, happy to see their father. Quickly mounting Obelisk, he headed to the leaning tower. Blasting fire towards their general direction to draw attention, Robert gathered the other three groups with the one near the tower.
They had followed like moths drawn to light.
Flying above the tower, he watched as the walking dead swarmed the tower to reach him. He waited for more of them to gather, and once satisfied with the numbers, he landed Obelisk on top of the tower, followed by his brothers, Ra and Slifer. Each dragon caused the tower to lean forward, and it completely went down when Slifer landed at last.
Robert quickly pulled the reins up as the tower came crashing down on the horde of undead, kicking up a cloud of dust. Robert did not land the dragons until the dust settled and he could see how many were dead.
It took some time, and the noise drew more of those creatures, but there were noticeably fewer of them.
When the dust settled, Robert was glad for the dragons once more. Hundreds that were either inside the tower or directly under it were crushed to pulp, and the rest were thrown away due to the impact.
He killed a great number of them with that stunt, but there wasn't any other tower around for him to drop on them, and there were still too many for him to take on.
If he couldn't kill them, then perhaps he could keep them contained somewhere. Searching for a suitable place through the whole city, gathering more of them as he did.
He found something even better. A bridge was damaged in the middle when one part of it had sunk to the ground. Looking from the safe side, it didn't appear to be broken due to the angle, not until you made it to the very end. Deciding to further damage it with dragon fire, Obelisk descended, standing just a bit above the sunken side.
No matter how smart these bastards were, he and the dragons made too enticing a target to pass.
He watched with narrowed eyes as they approached, thinking Robert was right in front of them; the slimy, snappy bastards charged.
And went straight into the water.
"Come on, you ugly bastards, come and get me." Robert screamed, smirking as the corpses in the water eventually stopped moving, with hundreds of those parasites floating to the surface.
Too bad he didn't have a water dragon or something; this could have been a lot easier.
Which was when Murphy decided to strike, as the last group, a small number compared to the ones that died in the water, stopped steps away from their doom, hissing and squealing at him.