As light snows fell, she saw the Dothraki charge upon the Iron Gate from above. She steered Drogon closer to the gates. Through the gates, and inside the Red Keep awaits the Kingslayer and his whore sister. My realm bleeds as long as they live. Daenerys Targaryen would not let fear hold her back. She was excited. She was hungry.
Daenerys had kept five-thousand Unsullied behind, while the forty-thousand men on horseback charged to meet the Iron Gate. Breaking through the barriers would be simple, and she did not want to lose any Unsullied during this battle.
The walls were lined with Lannister men, bewildered if they ought to defend the gates from forty-thousand savage horsemen or take cover from a flame-throwing beast. She heard the commander on the Iron Gate yell nock, draw, loose, before an array of needles hit Drogon’s stomach, splintering away meekly.
The chaos she heard from the walls were music to her ears. It was time to add to that.
“Dracarys.”
Drogon’s breath steamed through what remained of the Iron Gate, charring it to dust and leaving the pathway clear for her men to charge upon thousands of Lannisters. She saw the men on the walls flee like roaches from cats. They deserve worse, Daenerys thought, as she swooped in to turn the remaining men to ash.
As the Dothraki and the Lannisters fought a bloody battle below, Daenerys wondered what Cersei Lannister had up her sleeve. Varys had warned her of wildfire, but she did not see any signs of it yet. She had to be mindful of which places Drogon chose to burn. She could not go near Visenya’s Hill, for that was where the Alchemists’ Guild lay. One spark could burn down the area and kill tens of thousands of innocents.
She did not need dragonfire anyhow. The Lannisters had outnumbered the Dothraki by five-thousand, but it seemed to make no difference. Daenerys saw Qhono lead the massacre, as the men on horseback sliced holes through their defense. The events of today will eclipse the Roast of Riverrun.
A huge black arrow whizzed past Drogon’s wing.
For a second Daenerys was beyond the Wall, when Viserion’s eye rained with blood. She flew around the Iron Gate to see where the arrow had come from. She saw, among the smoldering remains of the wall, the men trying to hide the massive ballista from her gaze. “So that’s Cersei Lannister’s game,” she said, almost laughing in relief, as Drogon swooped to consume it with flames.
The battle at the Iron Gate had ended. The few Lannisters still alive had retreated to the capital, and from what she could see, there were at least ten-thousand Dothraki alive.
“Charge!” she yelled at the Unsullied, who marched past the burning remains of the Iron Gate, open and inviting. Daenerys could not believe how easy it had been. The bulk of Cersei’s forces have been killed. Now I only need Ellaria Sand to plunge through the Mud Gate.
She saw the Dothraki turn their sights to Flea Bottom and charge into the ruinous waste. “No!” she yelled, but Qhono did not listen. The temptation of raping and pillaging had taken over the horde. They had disobeyed the plan of attacking the Red Keep for their prizes. How am I better than Tywin Lannister if I do not put an end to this? She moved to send threatening sparks near Flea Bottom to scare the horde away.
The moment the flames fell, Daenerys Targaryen realized how foolish she had been.
*
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