Game of Thrones Oneshots

Battle of the Goldroad- Targaryen Madness

A little something different. Had this in my mind and had to get it down :)

Fire and fear spread throughout the slaughter. One could not even call it a battle as Lannister men fell as blackened ash from the might of Drogon's breath. You were the leader of the Dothraki charge and were a beacon of terrifying light and rage. All the running. All the bloodshed. All the attempts to assassinate Daenerys and yourself. It all piled up into a beast that could contend against the wrath of dragons. And you were the messenger. As men burned before your sister on Drogon's back, you tore your way through enemy lines. Blood splattering to your face with each deadly swipe of your blade. 

Men ran and cowered and you loved it. The whisper of your families curse growing louder and louder into a frenzied war cry. 

Madness. 

You jumped from your horse. Cutting through more men and laughed. As they fell you couldn't help the grin stretching across your blood splattered face. All this death somehow made you feel alive. And you were addicted to it. Twisting and turning. Blade hacking at anyone who dared to come close. You panted through gritted teeth. Roaring as you stabbed your blade straight through a mans throat. 

He fell to the blood soaked ground, limp and lifeless, and you straightened your back and tipped your head to the sky. A moment to catch your breath even as the searing hot air burned your throat and floating ash stung your eyes. Even though chaos erupted around you, you somehow fell into a trance. The world seemed to slow down. Your senses dulling to the point where you could hear muffled cries. Only the sound of your breathing and your beating heart could be heard clearly in ringing ears. Small flecks of ash floated in the sky like delicate snow amongst the billowing black smoke of raging fires. The sky could barely be seen behind the swirling mass of smog. Maybe this is what awaited many in the seven hells. Maybe the Targaryen's had finally dragged it to the mortal world. 

You closed your eyes and slowly exhaled. Grounding yourself to the battle as you gently pulled yourself out of the psychological trance. This was no place to lose yourself. Whenever you had fully let yourself go in the past, you'd wake up to your body drenched in the blood of others. It was what made Daenerys wary of you when she was younger and what finalised the agreement that you couldn't take the Iron Throne, even as you were the eldest living child of the previous king.

When you opened your eyes, the madness receded into the quiet whisper at the back of your mind and you gripped your blade tighter. A Lannister soldier cut down a Dothraki rider before he turned his head to you. With his sword lifted high, he ran in a frenzy. You used his erratic mind to your advantage and deftly slid to the side. He stumbled over your foot and, as you spotted an opening, you sliced his back open. 

The sudden cry of Drogon snapped your attention to the sky once more. His giant form writhing amongst the plumes of smoke. Your heart sunk at the sight of the giant bolt stuck in his body and followed the line of fire to a man standing behind a ballista. That whisper hissed in the back of your mind as you narrowed your eyes on the bastard. 

You hooked an arm around a horses neck as it galloped past and swung yourself onto its back. Grabbing the reigns to guide it towards the ballista. No one got in your way. You had a clear path to your target. Each beat of your horses hooves rung different ways you would make him pay for firing on your sister. 

Dragon fire pummelled down onto the ballista and all those close to it. You pulled your horse back, watching in terrified awe at the sheer power of your sisters draconic child. The show of strength had quietened that whisper and yet, when the fire stopped and you saw the slimy bastard still alive, it came back as a grinding chatter. You kicked your horse forwards. Baring your blade high as the man stumbled amongst the flames. His face dropped when he saw you and your own features lit up with sick joy as you recognised him as Bronn of the Blackwater. Word had spread of his aptitude. Now it was time to really put him to the test. 

As your steed ran past him, you swung your blade low and he dodged to the side. You circled back and tried once more. Only to be blocked by his own blade as he grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the saddle. You gasped as you slammed onto the floor. Winded and disorientated. The perfect chance for Bronn to stab his sword down. 

You rolled to the side. Swiping his legs from under him and scrambled on top. Blood burst from his nose as you pounded him with your fist. The sheer force of your hits made the skin of your knuckles split and bruise. But you could hardly feel it. Not when that madness infected your mind once more. That control slipping away again.

Bronn wrapped his legs around your torso and flipped you over. Whilst straddling you, he slammed a dagger down. You caught his wrist. Face twisting as you tried pushing his dagger back. The deadly tip edged closer and closer with Bronn put his entire weight into forcing it towards your throat. 

Your senses dulled. Everything slowing down. Madness reaching clawed hands to take control of your instincts. 

And this time you let yourself go. 

A savage cackle ripped through your throat and Bronn barely had any time to react before you sunk your teeth into his hand, throwing him off you as he cried out in pain. He scrambled up to his feet and you mirrored him. This time Bronn had felt that first lick of pure undiluted fear as he felt like he was staring a savage dragon in the eye. 

You charged first. Each strike you made was unpredictable. Uninhibited. And Bronn could only rely on his fast reactions as you pushed him into the defensive. He locked his blade against yours and you both stared each other down. Bronn could barely register any humanity in your eyes anymore. A deep rumbling snarl came from you as you pushed him back and swung your weapon at his head. He leaned back, the tip just grazing his cheek. You swiped again and this time you caught his arm and left a deep gash. 

Bronn reeled back, holding a hand to his arm. "What in seven hells are you?" 

"What am I?" Lips stretched back into a grin, you barely blinked. "I am a Targaryen and you have chosen the wrong side of the war." 

As you ran in again, Bronn kicked burning ash into your face and you wailed. Clawing away the ash that stung your skin and eyes. When you could finally see again, Bronn was gone. Your rage boiled over and a fleeing soldier had to take the brunt of it. 

~

The battle was over. You were sat in a tent that was amongst many for the soldiers to rest. A few women tended to your wounds as you stared off into space. It was always the same. You fight in some kind of battle and lose yourself. Then everything goes numb in the aftermath. You become a shell of a person. 

Daenerys stood on the other side of the tent and watched you with concern. She had love for you but it was clear that the Targaryen madness had infected you. But she'd do nothing about it for now. Not when you were an asset to her army. 

She turned to Tyrion and muttered, "what would you do in my position?" 

"I'd imprison her as soon as you get the throne." Tyrion shifted on his feet when you flicked your cold eyes to them. He was afraid you had heard, but sighed in relief when you looked away and closed your eyes. "She's too dangerous." 

"Very well." Daenerys watched you for a few heartbeats before leaving with Tyrion and prepared herself for the day she had to harden her heart against you.