Game of Thrones: Winter's Fire

Daeron The Good

Sometimes, when being king became too much, Daeron Targaryen would retreat back to his private library and sit and read some of the stories his mother used to read to him when he was a child. He knew that if he ever told anyone about this, they would laugh and call him not the Good but the Weak, and that it would only feed the rumours that he was not the true king, and that Daemon was the Warrior come again. That was why he never told anyone where he went when council meetings and discussions with his family became too much, he went there for peace and solidarity, and only Myriah knew what he did during those rare times. This war was beginning to take away the last vestiges of patience that he had for his small council as well, with Baelor and Brynden away fighting, Lord Massey the man who had been his father's closest advisor had become much more of a nuisance than he had been in the years preceding the rebellion.

With each report of a Blackfyre victory, Massey was constantly at Daeron's ear begging him to stop the fighting and to welcome Daemon back to the fold. Daeron had his suspicions as to why Lord Massey was so keen for Daemon to be pardoned, and they did revolve around a certain piece of paper that his father had allegedly written before his death. Each time Massey asked him to end the war and pardon Daemon, the stronger Daeron's will to win grew, he would not let Daemon- as much as he loved his brother- destroy the kingdoms by becoming king, for Daeron knew that it would not be Daemon who would truly rule, no that would fall to Bittersteel and Fireball, and both men were too full of anger and bitterness to truly and effectively rule. If it were Daeron Stark who would become Daemon's right hand man- and Daeron knows that this is a treacherous thought and would undermine all he has worked for- then perhaps he would not be so reluctant to allow Daemon back into the fold, but of course Daeron Stark had made it very clear during his last few days in King's Landing and in that letter he wrote from the Twins that he had no intention of ever living in the south again.

Daeron is still haunted by the words that were spoken in the throne room when news came of Lord Willam's death. Of the pure loathing that he could hear in Myriah's voice when she spoke of Lord Willam Stark, of the pure hurt and anger in Daeron Stark's voice and posture when he promised revenge. He was getting that revenge now, he had burnt the Targaryen sigil in front of the Crossing- the beginning of his revenge- and then he had laid waste to the Twins, and then at Oldstones he had destroyed Lords Piper, Vance and Mallister's armies. And then he had marched for Riverrun, Baelor and Lord Tully had taken some of the royalist forces to meet him before he could get to Riverrun, and their sources had reported a fierce battle in the Whispering Wood, a very fierce battle. Stark had slain Lord Tully, and his brother Cregan had killed Lord Tully's heir. The royalist army had scattered when it became apparent that victory was not on the cards, of Baelor there had been no word, he had been last seen fighting one of the northmen, bleeding profusely, but still standing.

The news that Baelor was missing- potentially dead- had destroyed Myriah, his wife who was so fragile of health as of late, there was a sickness in her that the maesters were struggling to find a cure for, and the disease was eating her alive. Her once rich and healthy skin had become deathly pale, and her hair, her luscious black hair was turning grey and falling out at an alarming rate. Daeron did know where the sickness had come from, they were in the middle of one of the warmest summers he had ever known and that some at the Citadel thought was the long summer come, there was little to no illness in the kingdoms or in King's Landing, though of course the kingdoms were bleeding through war. And with their children out there leading the royalist effort, Daeron knew that Myriah was sick with worry, fearing that they would receive word of some catastrophe, hells he even felt sick with worry, he loved his children dearly, he truly did, but he also loved Daemon dearly, and he could not bear to think of what would come of Daemon should he lose this war, nor did he truly wish to know what would come of him and his family should they lose the war.

He had spent many a night since the rebellion had begun trying desperately to think of why Daemon would rebel. Daemon had never shown any sort of anger or resentment at being bastard born, as far as Daeron could tell, he had grown up first in Winterfell, as the loved and cared for adoptive son of Lord Willam Stark, he had grown up in a loving and caring environment in Winterfell with Daeron Stark, and then when he had come to King's Landing so had Daeron Stark, the two of them had always been thick as thieves, and then the two of them had become friends with Aegor, and had gotten up to more mischief. Never throughout the time when Daemon was in King's Landing had he ever shown any signs of resentment. Though once news had come from the north of his adoptive father's death, and Myriah had said those words, and Daeron Stark had left for the north, there had most certainly been an edge or an angry gait to his walk, and he held himself like a man with lots to prove.

It did not help Daeron thought, that Aegor had taken up the place that Daeron Stark had once held, as Daemon's right hand man, and had begun whispering in his ear, about his rights and what was being denied to him. Aegor had thought he was being very subtle by whispering in the places in King's Landing and out in the lands that Daemon had been given by their father, but Daeron had men everywhere, men who were loyal to the crown and to him, and Brynden had men who were loyal, and they reported all of that which Aegor spoke of. It had been with great reluctance that Daeron had had to deny Daemon and Danaerys to one another, there had been a pact sealed in ink and blood when Daeron had married Myriah that needed to be honoured, and Myriah's nephew was of an age with Danaerys and was to be her husband. Daeron knew, of course he knew, -his two siblings were like his children- that Daemon and Danaerys were in love with each other, and that they wished to marry, but he also knew that he could not risk offending the Dornish by allowing them to marry, nor could he truly risk allowing them to marry, for the whisperings that Aegor was putting into Daemon's ear were getting more and more treacherous by the day. And so he decided that Daemon would marry a Strickland girl, Delena her name was, and he hoped and prayed that Daemon would come to love his wife as much as he loved Danaerys.

Delena had given Daemon seven sons and three daughters, and yet Daeron knew that Daemon still wanted Danaerys, and so it was with deep regret that he formally announced her marriage to Prince Maron Martell. That was when Daemon rebelled and called for war. The Reach was the first to bleed, House Strickland rallied behind Daemon, as did House Osgrey, House Ambrose, House Bulwer and House Cockshaw all rebelled and joined Daemon's cause, and at the Mander Daemon proved himself to be a skilled commander as well as a warrior, defeating and killing the inept Lord Tyrell and his heir. That display earnt Daemon the respect of Lord Rowan, the only remaining commander of the royalist forces in the Reach, and so Daemon got another 20,000 men, and Daeron saw hope begin to slip.

Storm's End had been under siege by Lord Strickland but Daeron's spies reported that the man had led his armies north to the Trident to follow Daemon and Aegor and their army as they went to meet and do battle with Maekar and Lord Hayford's forces. Quentyn Ball and House Reyne and House Tarbeck and the Greyjoys had plundered and attacked the Westerlands, Damon Lannister- one of the men that both Daeron and his father had respected- was lying injured in Casterly Rock from a battle with his friend Quellon Greyjoy. Daeron knew that Lannister had been reluctant to fight against his old friend or even against Willam Stark's sons, and so despite the immense loathing that he felt for himself for doing so, Daeron had taken two of Lannister's sons as hostages and had decided to keep them in King's Landing until the war was over, to ensure the man's loyalty.

The Westerlands were burning though, the Ironborn were going on a full scale rampage, plundering, pillaging and raping to their hearts content. Brynden had marched with 2000 men from Riverrun to deal with them, as of yet there had been no news from him on that front, though Daeron did suspect that perhaps the Ironborn would retreat back to the Iron Islands at some point soon- he may not be great with weapons, but he did know a fair bit of military strategy- and he knew that the Ironborn were not made for long term warfare, they would burn themselves out on raping and pillaging, and then they would return back to their homes. He could only hope and pray that they would burn out before the final battle that he knew, that he could sense was coming.

As had often been happening since the rebellion had broken out, Daeron found his thoughts wondering back to the rumours that seemed to have started it all. Those who did not like him, nor the direction his reign and court had been going, had latched onto a rumour that some blasted singer had started after being in his cups for too long one night, that he Daeron Targaryen second of his name, was not the true King of Westeros, that he was in actual fact the bastard son of his uncle Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and his mother Queen Naerys. The singers often sang songs of his uncle's doomed love for his mother, and when he had been little and seeking male affection that his father never seemed willing to give, he had gone up to his uncle and asked him whether or not he- Daeron- was his- Aemon's- son. His uncle's expression, usually so stoic and unreadable had flickered into something that seemed like despair and then hurt, and then anger, but of course Daeron had been too young to see the subtle changes then, but as he had gotten older he had found it curious, his uncle of course had brushed off Daeron's question and told him, that no he was not his father, merely his uncle.

Daeron had never plucked up the courage to ask his mother, his mother who had had to put up with so much hurt and suffering, his mother who had stayed by Daeron's side when he had been an insecure boy growing up, his mother who had been there to comfort him when the other boys at court had mocked him for preferring books than swords. His mother, who until he had met Myriah had been the strongest person he had ever met, who had put up with all the slanders that his father had dealt her with his many mistresses, and the bastards that had appeared as a result of these whims his father had had. His mother who had died broken and tired, his mother whom he had lost, his mother…

King Daeron II's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knocking at the door, looking up he saw Ser Terrence Appleton of the Kingsguard standing there looking nervous. Daeron looked at him enquiringly. Appleton swallowed and said "Your Grace, I know you asked not to be disturbed but Grand Maester Lewyn is asking for you. He says its to do with her grace the Queen."

Daemon Blackfyre

The air smelt crisp, a slight breeze was passing through the camp. Somewhere off to the north was the Trident, glittering in the summer sun, Daemon Blackfyre- the King Who Bore the Sword- looked around the camp and nodded to himself, the banners of House Strickland, House Rowan, House Osgrey, House Ambrose, House Cockshaw, House Reyne, House Tarbeck, House Yronwood, House Peake and House Costayne flew around the camp. The Lothstons had turned their cloak once more, and had gone back to the Targaryens for fear of a reprisal should Daemon not emerge victorious in the battle to come. Aegor had suggested marching on Harrenhal and teaching them a lesson when the raven had come, but Daemon had decided against that, it would not do to have their army spread out so thinly with the royalist forces so close at hand. No they would fight Maekar and whoever else it was that would be fighting for his brother today and they would defeat them and then they would take King's Landing and end the dynasty of Viserys II once and for all.

Daemon took out the letter from his pocket that had arrived last night, the letter had come from his brother Daeron Stark, and within it his brother wrote of his victory in the battle of the Whispering Wood, he wrote of the deaths of Lord Edwyn Tully and his heir Tytos, he wrote of the scattering of the royalist army that had come with Prince Baelor- the fact that Baelor had not marched with Maekar from Riverrun still surprised Daemon, he had honestly not thought his nephew capable of falling for such an obvious trap- Daeron also wrote of Baelor's injuries and how he was being held in a prison camp. Daemon found himself impressed and proud of his little brother's achievements. Taking the Twins, smashing a Riverlands host at Oldstones and now defeating an army led by warriors as renowned as Baelor and Lord Edwyn Tully, yes his brother had definitely proved himself, worthy of being a Stark and of succeeding their father as Lord of Winterfell. Once this war was over and he sat the Iron Throne, Daemon fully intended on giving his brother and their family the recognition that they were long overdue and that had not been forthcoming during Daeron Targaryen's reign.

Daemon still felt the old anger boil inside of him whenever he thought back to that day when the raven had come from Winterfell informing them of Lord Willam Stark's death, he remembered the pure mirth that had been in Queen Myriah's voice when she spoke of how fitting it was that a savage such as Daemon and Daeron's father had been killed by savages, he still remembered how angry and upset Daeron had been, he remembered the promise of vengeance that Daeron had made before he had left the capital twelve years ago. Soon brother, soon we shall have our vengeance for the insults they have done to father, to mother to the North. Daemon thought, and he could not help but feel his pulse quicken at the thought of plunging Blackfyre into Maron Martell's heart as well, the man who would think to take Danaerys away from him.

He had known ever since he could walk and talk properly, that Danaerys was meant to marry some Dornish prince, but he had never truly been able to accept it. Danaerys was so beautiful, she looked like the sun and the moon, and she was the maiden come to life. She did not deserve to have to rot away in some Dornish desert with a man who would not love her, simply because of some pact their fool of an uncle had made to bring Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms. Daemon still remembers speaking with King Aegon- the man may have sired him but Lord Willam would always be his father- about the possibility of marrying Danaerys when they were older, King Aegon had laughed mirthlessly in front of his courtiers and told him that such a thing would not be possible, for Daemon was merely a lowly bastard, not a fit match for a princess of the blood, feeling sad and dejected Daemon had been about to leave when suddenly the king had dismissed his courtiers and had asked Daemon to sit down, and in hushed tones had told him that he was working on making the Dornish match go away and that if he had his way Daemon and Danaerys would be able to marry.

Daemon had left that day feeling very, very happy, but then King Aegon had died and Daeron Targaryen had come to the throne, and with him had come the poison of Dorne, with him Daemon's dreams of marrying Danaerys had gone up in smoke. Daeron had had him married off to Delena Strickland, and whilst Delena was a lovely woman and had borne him many children, he could not find it in himself to love her more than he loved Danaerys, and it was the one failing of his life that he deeply regretted. Delena was such a beauty and was so nice and kind that she deserved someone who could make her feel loved and like a queen that she deserved to be, she did not deserve to be stuck with a man still pining after another woman. That was not to say that Daemon was not fond of her or did not like her, oh no he was very fond of her and liked her a lot, it was just that he could not bring himself to feel anything more for her. Of course he loved their children though all of them, Aegon and Aemon who were his squires and promising warriors, Daemon who was the bookish one, Haegon who reminded him startlingly of Maekar, Daeron who reminded Daemon of his brother Daeron Stark and was another warrior in the making, Maegon who reminded Daemon of Cregan a lot and Aegor the baby of the family. And his daughters, Sara, Shiera and Delena, all of them he loved fiercely and he itched to see them again, he desperately did, but the only way he could see them now was to win this war and take King's Landing.

He was confident that they could win the battle today and with it the war. Baelor was a prisoner, Bloodraven was nowhere to be found and Maekar and his men looked like they were about to starve to death according to Daemon's spies. Furthermore, the Reach had all but fallen to their efforts, Lord Tyrell and his heir were both dead, the new Lord of Highgarden was nothing more than a babe at the breast, and Highgarden itself was fastly becoming a smoking ruin, Damon Lannister had been lying injured in the Rock for three moons now, the Greyjoys had answered Daeron's call to arms with much vigour and the Westerlands were a smoking ruin now. The Stormlands were quickly falling under Blackfyre control after Lord Baratheon's death and the death of his son and heir, the other houses of the Stormlands were either surrendering or being forced to swear loyalty to him, and Daeron was conquering the Riverlands one castle at a time and most likely would hold Riverrun by the end of today, yes he was confident and had every reason to be.

Daemon put the letter back into his pocket and headed back into his tent, it was time to don his armour. Calling for his sons Aegon and Aemon to help him, he began fastening the different pieces of armour onto his body, all the while going through the plans for the battle that would take place today. Aegor would take the right, Ser Robb Reyne would command the left, and Daemon would personally see to the leadership of the Van, the reserve would have been commanded by Fireball but Daemon's old mentor had been slain by Bloodraven on the eve of today's battle, so instead Ser Eustace Osgrey would lead the reserve, the man was capable but whether or not he would be able to hold his nerve was something that would be interesting to see, though Daemon was still not sure whether or not he truly wished to gamble the full battle - should it come to it- on a man whose whims were famous throughout Westeros. Once his armour was on he said one final word to his sons. "Aegon, Aemon. Today we shall stand and fight for what is ours by right, today we shall fight to rid Westeros of the vipers that plague. Know that no matter what happens today that I am and always have been proud of both of you, and know that I love you with all I have," his sons nodded, though he could see Aemon almost welling up with tears. "Go now and prepare Aegon send for Aegor I would speak with him before we begin." His sons nodded and headed out for their separate ways.

Daemon sat down in his tent, dressed in full armour except for his dragon winged helm which lay on the bed beside him, and waited for his half brother to arrive. Aegor was one of his closest friends, but though they shared the same blood, they were nowhere as close as Daemon and Daeron were, though that was to be expected, for both Daemon and Daeron had grown up together and had always had each other's backs through thick and thin. He was still confident though, that should anything happen to him today, that Aegor would do what he could to ensure that his children were protected and kept safe. A guard outside his tent announced Aegor's presence and so Daemon stood up to greet his half brother.

They clasped hands and Aegor said "You called for me Your Grace."

Daemon nodded. "Sit brother, I would speak with you."

Aegor did as he was bid and Daemon sat down soon after. "Today we fight the most important battle of this war, I have had dreams of the possibilities that could come from today. As you know Daeron has defeated the royalist army commanded by Baelor Breakspear, and holds the man prisoner, so we will not have to worry about their army coming to chase us in the rear. Still Lord Arryn and Hayford have command of the Van and the left. Maekar has the right, so you will be facing him, and Bloodraven is marching even as we speak. I do not trust the man, and fear he may use some treachery to ensure a loyalist victory. Should something happen to me today, I want your solemn vow that you will take my children away from Westeros for a time, until you can build up enough support for them to come back and reclaim what is ours by right. Daeron will help you, I know he will, but the voyage north will be long and treacherous. Should I fall, take Aegon and Aemon with you, take them far from here."

Daemon paused for a moment to allow Aegor time to digest what he had said. After a moment of silence his half brother nodded and said "I will do as you command Your Grace, though I do not think such a plan will need to come into action."

Daemon nodded his thanks and then replied, "Go now Aegor, get ready, we march in peak."

Aegor left his tent and Daemon put on his helmet and grabbed Blackfyre from where it rested and attached it to his armour in its sheath. He walked out of his tent and got onto the horse that Aegon and Aemon had saddle for him, then he waited for them to mount their own horses, and once that was done he spurred his horse onto where the men who made up the van waited for him. He stopped before them and looked at them, 15,000 men made up the van of the Blackfyre army for this battle, some bore the coats of arms of minor but powerful houses in the Westerlands, the Reach and Dorne but all bore the sigil of House Blackfyre, the black dragon on a field of red. Raising his visor so that he could speak, Daemon swallowed once and then spoke. " Men, today we come to fight a foe that believes itself in the right. Today we come to fight a foe that houses vipers who would corrupt Westeros to their unholy ways. Today we come to fight, to right a wrong that has been done to us, to my family and to yours. Today we fight and today we win!" The answering roar of approval from the men was nigh on deafening, but Daemon felt his blood begin to sing, this was what he was born to do, not the innate politicking of court, no fighting and sparring was what he was made for.

He drew Blackfyre from its sheath and raised it toward the sun and in a loud and commanding voice shouted, "Men of Westeros… CHARGE!" And so the battle began. The two armies crashed into one another, Daemon swung his sword once and cleaved a man in half, he swung his sword again and his opponent lost his head, he swung his sword again and this time the foe lost an arm. Soon he came face to face with a man bearing the falcon of House Arryn; this was the loyalist van then. Daemon and the man charged at one another. The falcon man swung his sword but Daemon blocked the swing on his shield, and then pushed the man's sword out of the way and swung across the man and struck true, denting the man's armour.

The man swung fiercely in retaliation but his strokes were wild and without refinement, and so where they were intended to strike Daemon's body, they only succeeded in striking his shield and sword. Daemon was more successful in his fight back, swinging his sword like the warrior himself, he swung and hit his target once and dented the man's armour, he swung and struck his target twice and dented the man's armour above his heart, he swung a third time and his sword buried itself deep inside the man's chest, piercing through the armour and into the skin beneath. When Daemon pulled his sword out it was covered in blood, the man of House Arryn fell from his horse blood spurting from the wound Daemon had made.

Daemon spurred his horse forward, and cut down any man who came in his path. A deft swing here, a forceful hack there, and soon the bodies began to pile up behind him as the men who fought for the Targaryens began to fall like flies. Blood coated his sword and it littered the ground which drank it greedily like a drunk at a bar. Around him the battle raged like a tide coming in, the sound of steel on steel screeched from every corner of the field where they fought. The sound of men fighting and dying, the screams as the wounded cried out for their loved ones rang loudly in Daemon's ears even as he put more and more men to death and sent them to meet the stranger.

The next man he came up against who truly deserved his respect was Wyl Waynwood, a man of good repute but still no match for Daemon on this day. The two men circled each other, and it was Waynwood who made the first move swinging his sword like a mad man, Daemon swerved to the right causing Waynwood to overbalance slightly, something that Daemon took full advantage of slicing at Waynwood's bottom half, cutting through the man's armour and drawing blood. Waynwood retaliated with a fierce assault slicing, hacking and swinging like his life depended on it, and it did Daemon supposed. Some of his attacks range true cutting Daemon in several places and denting his armour. But Daemon was still the better fighter, more controlled and more able to preserve his best for when it mattered. With a quick feint to the left and then to the right he had confused Waynwood and then when he lunged forward Blackfyre outstretched Waynwood only realised what Daemon had done to him when it was too late and Blackfyre had pierced through his chest and his blood was gushing out of the wound in his chest and onto the ground.

Daemon pulled his sword out of Waynwood and said a quick prayer to the Old Gods that the man's soul found peace in the afterlife, before he spurred his horse forward, and found himself face to face with the Knight of the Ninestars. They circled round each other, both sizing the other man up, before the Knight of Ninestars spurred his horse forward and lunged forward so suddenly that Daemon was caught unawares and hissed painfully as he felt the man's sword strike his gauntlet and felt blood begin to pour out of the wound in his left hand. The cut made it slightly difficult to keep a solid hold on Blackfyre, but Daemon managed and was able to get the Knight of Ninestars back in kind, swinging his sword like a man possessed, he swung and swung and the more he swung the further back he pushed the Knight of Ninestars, and the more damage he did to the man's body and horse, so that by the time Daemon stopped to catch his breath the blood was still flowing from his cut but the Knight of Ninestars was a shredded wreck on the ground bleeding from so many cuts and wounds on his body and face and person in general that he would be unrecognizable once the battle was done. Daemon rode on.

Around him the battle still raged, it seemed to be going well for the men of the Vale seemed to be severly depleted compared to how they had been when the fight had begun, but Daemon could not be too sure. So he spurred his horse on further and soon found himself face to face with Ser Gwayne Corbray of the Kingsguard, one of the fiercest and best fighters in Daeron Targaryen's Kingsguard. The two men spurred their horses forward and met in a clash of steel, finally there was an opponent who would be worth Daemon's while. They exchanged blows, Blackfyre hit Lady Forlorn, and Lady Forlorn hit Blackfyre. Blackfyre hit Corbray's armour, denting and scratching it, Lady Forlorn hit Daemon's armour and dented it. Daemon swung and hit Corbray's shield, Corbray swung and hit Daemon's shield.

This process happened for what seemed like hours but it was perhaps no longer than a few minutes, but eventually it was Daemon who managed to break through the cycle feinting to his right drawing Corbray out from his comfort zone and thrusting Blackfyre up in an arc and piercing Corbray above his right leg, when Daemon pulled his sword out the man was bleeding from a deep wound and was panting heavily. Daemon went to hit Corbray in the chest but found Corbray had lifted Lady Forlorn up and managed to block his swing, locking them in a stalemate as both men tried to force the other to break away or give up.

Steel on steel screeched in Daemon's head, as sparks began to fly from both men's interlocked swords; both men were putting all their strength into the swords trying to push the other man out of the combat. Eventually Daemon won out, and managed force Corbray down with a mighty push that caused sparks to come flying from both swords. The push was so strong that Corbray fell from his horse and his helmet came off when he hit the ground; Daemon to make the fight fairer dropped down from his own horse and advanced on Corbray hand raised out to help the knight up. By the time he got close to Corbray the man was already up and had Lady Forlorn raised and so their dance began once more.

They charged at one another, gone were the forms of convention and propeity that had dictated their earlier duel, now this was something primal, some base instinct. Steel hit steel and sparks flew as both men pushed the other to their limits. Corbray nicked Daemon's armour thrice, once above his heart, once above the same cut he had made earlier and once in his chest. Daemon struck Corbray in the chest, in the eyes, in the stomach and in other places as well, so that by the time Corbray finally managed to knock Daemon's helmet off of his face, the man was bleeding heavily in several places and one of his eyes was swollen and closed and bleeding profusely.

Daemon felt tired now, his body and limbs ached, all he wanted was a nice hot bath and to hold Delena in his arms, funny how he had thought he didn't love her, when in the midst of battle, all he could truly think of was her, and her brown hair and olive skin, and her lips and… He had no more time to daydream Corbray had swung at him and Daemon had just managed to avoid having some part of himself hacked off by raising his shield up in time. He responded by pushing Lady Forlorn out of Corbray's hands and then raising Blackfyre up quick enough that he was able to pierce Corbray's other eye before the man could raise his shield.

Corbray fell to his knees, battered and bloody, blind in both eyes and cuts all over his face and dents all over his armour. But Daemon acknowledged the man's bravery and honour and called for Redtusk, when the big burly man came forward he said in as kingly a voice as he could manage given how exhausted he was "Take Ser Gwayne to the rear Redtusk and have our maesters see to his wounds." Redtusk bowed and helped Ser Gwayne to his feet and toward the rear.

Daemon watched them go and tried to catch his breath but before he could so much as look round for his sons, he heard an arrow whiz by and heard someone scream in pain, and felt his gut clench… Aegon. He turned toward the sound of the scream, and sure enough there was his son Aegon kneeling on the ground an arrow protruding from his throat, blood pooling at his feet. Daemon screamed, "Aegon! Aemon where are you?" His second son Aemon came running, Daemon turned to him and said "Find Aegor Aemon, find him and stay with him."

Aemon protested "What about Aegon father? What about you? I can't, I won't leave you alone father!"

Daemon would not hear it. "No go Aemon, I will be fine, I must help Aegon. Go find Aegor and stay with him, when this is done I will find you. I promise." And so Aemon reluctantly ran off into the distance with Addam Osgrey and Ser Lewyn Ambrose following him.

Daemon drew Blackfyre from its sheath and walked toward his eldest son. But as he got closer to his son, Daemon felt a sharp pain in his back and legs, straining he saw that there were arrows protruding from those parts of his body, shaking his head he marched on forward determined to reach his son even if it killed him. Just as he was about to reach Aegon to help him, he felt an arrow pierce his neck, and then another arrow pierced the top of his right leg forcing him down to the ground. The world was beginning to go black, the ground was moving to quick for his liking, and he could taste the blood in his mouth, he tried to speak to call for Aegon to get up and run, but his vision went blurry and his words would not form, he blinked heavily, and tried to get up but before he could another arrow pierced his skin and this time the pain was too much. Daemon fell head face into the ground and moved no more, blood pooled around him and still the battle raged.