The Gold Road stretched endlessly, winding through golden fields of wheat and barley. The Road was a vital trade artery for House Lannister to King's Landing.
The Lannister army moved steadily, their wagons creaking under the weight of stolen gold and grain. At their head, Jaime Lannister rode in silence, his golden hand glinting in the harsh afternoon sun.
Beside him, Randyll Tarly kept his expression hard, scanning the open plains. The man was not one to indulge in idle chatter—especially when escorting the wealth that would decide the fate of the Seven Kingdoms.
Ahead, the banners of House Lannister and House Tarly snapped in the wind. Thousands of men marched in disciplined formation—seasoned warriors, bolstered by fresh recruits from the Reach.
They marched along the Blackwater River ahead of where the river forks. The army was exhausted. Now it was ten miles off from King's Landing.
Jaime exhaled slowly, feeling a rare sense of relief. Holding up his hand, he motioned for the captains to make camp.
The Army made camp, along the riverbank. Jame watched as his men sat down exhausted. Despite his exhaustion, Jamie removed his hourglass and yelled to his captains, "One hour!"
"Nice day, isn't it?" Ser. Bronn said looking above at the partly cloudy sky. "It's not to hot, and it has a slight breeze."
As if on cue, thunder rumbled in the distance.
Jamie looked at Bronn disapprovingly as if he was a jinx.
"Don't look at me like that," Bronn smirked, "I was just commenting."
This time the thunder roared again. Louder. Closer.
The ground trembled.
However, this time Bronn looked down curiously. It was faint at first, a distant vibration beneath his boots seemed to grow.
Turning to Jamie, he spoke softly, "Listen."
Jamie quickly spun his head in the direction of the thunder. The noise seemed almost on top of them, but curiously he noticed no lightning in the sky.
The ground trembled.
Then it grew.
Like a heartbeat, pulsing through the land itself.
Then it dawned on him; tightening his hands on his horse reins, he called out, "Spears and shields"
Randall Tarly immediately stiffened in his saddle. "That's no storm. Huff beats, a horde of them!"
Jaime turned, his gaze shifting toward the caravans of supplies…and the last wagon where the weapon lay hidden.
Galloping through the resting soldiers, Jamie, Randall, and Bronn called their men to from rank.
Men rushed to put on their helmets and grab weapons. Soon, a line of soldiers, three deep, stood in formation, ready for orders.
Turning to face the hill in the distance, atop he could barely make out little dots rippling across the background.
The dots grew closer.
The ground quaked beneath them.
As they rode closer, he could make them out.
A hoard of barbarians riders.
Thousands of them.
"Archers make ready, spears out!" Jamie commanded.
They did as commanded, but Jamie noticed them masking their exhaustion. Yet they stood resolute.
However, as the cries of the Dothraki increased in excitement, the army's resolve weakened.
"Hold the line," Jamie shouted encouraging.
Bronn, riding up to him, suggested, "You should leave."
Jamie knew his fleeing would only worsen the army's weakening resolve, "I'm not leaving my army."
"We are outnumbered and outclassed. Those horses will tear through us like a hot knife through butter," Bronn said worriedly.
"We can hold them," Jamie said unconvincingly.
Then… above them came a frightening roar.
A black beast descended from the cloudy skies
Then Jamie saw it…a dragon.
Cutting across the sky…
…perpendicular…
Heading to their north flank.
"Seven hells," he cussed. He was trapped. He could either reposition his army to face the dragon and suffer the Dothraki. Or maintain position, and let his army succumb to dragon fire.
Yet before he could issue commands, the dragon opened its maw wide. Jame could see yellow and orange sparks gathering before a torrent of dragon fire ripped through his flank. The dragon traveled forward, alighting his vanguard on fire.
Jamie covered his eyes, from the overwhelming brightness. The desperate cries of men filled his ears.
With the front open, the Dothraki horde thundered forward, the Lannister anguished burned alive.
The Dothraki arakhs gleamed in blood and ran through the army.
"Loose," Jamie ordered, as arrows flew forward. Some found their way piercing Dothraki riders.
Above them, Drogon let out an earth-shaking roar, his wings sending gusts of wind over the battlefield.
"Hurry, make ready!" Jamie ordered, observing the approaching dragon.
"Loose," he commanded again.
A rain of arrows shot skyward toward Drogon, but the dragon twisted midair, the shafts bouncing harmlessly off his black scales. A few arrows nearly missed Daenerys.
"Hurry, again. Make ready!" He ordered.
Yet before a third volley could be fired, Daenerys ordered, "Dracarys."
A wave of dragon fire lit the archers in flames. Archers resembling birthday candles, cried out agony.
Jamie, jumping off his horse, dove into the river.
On the southern flank, untouched by dragon fire, Randall Tarly barked orders. As the Tarly and Lannister armies scrambled to coalesce.
"FORM RANKS!" Randall yelled.
Jaime Lannister swam above water and walked to the shore. He saw his soldiers being cut down like wheat. Grabbing a stray horse, he drew his sword, swallowing down the creeping chill of fear crawling up his spine as he rushed to fight.
Bronn finding Jamie, galloped to him.
After cutting down his opponent, Jamie turned to fight again, only stopping when he noticed it was Bronn.
"Go get the scorpion," Jamie ordered.
"You go, Bronn," curtly replied.
"I can't aim with one hand," Jamie said sarcastically holding up his golden prosthetic.
Bronn frowned and exclaimed, "I better be paid extra for this!" Before galloping off in the distance.
Daenerys sat on Drogon's back, the wind whipping her cloak as they descended toward the Lannister vanguard.
She did not hesitate. She would avenge her allies and remind Cersi and the man who murdered her father that they were the true rulers—not the usurpers but House Targaryen.
Even if she had to light the seven kingdoms on fire.