Orys while dressed in his silver armour with stag of, once Durrandon, Baratheon on his breastplate, watched as the Dornish fleet surrendered Storm's End.
Argella Durrandon walked to her husband. "What is it on your mind, Orys?" She spoke calmly. Argella had wished to dress in armour so she could swing a sword alongside her husband, though Orys refused.
Orys spoke coldly. "I saw Deria Martell when she came to Kingslanding on behalf of her father, Nymor. I should have taken her hand and sent her back to her father without a hand as they took my fucking hand." Orys spat from the top of Storm's End. "Every Dornish is a cunt. This only shows how much of a traitorous rat Prince of Oldtown is! Negotionishting with the Dornish with his own uncle! I know that bastard is behind this! This is his revenge!"
"You truly believe Prince of Oldtown, Daemion, is behind this?" Argella spoke as she raised her eyebrows. "If that is so, that bastard will pay with his own life for this."
"Matters not. For now, we are surrounded by Dornish cunts." Orys spoke coldly as he watched the Dornish fleet surrounding Storm's End. "Call the men, wife. I am taking the lead myself. I will see to it that we would have a river of blood."
_________
As the soldiers are gathered in the courtyard, Orys stands atop the gate of Storm's End and speaks loudly to his soldiers.
"Dornish cowering bastards are here to take over! As if Storm's End is a ruin like Stepstones to be taken!" Orys spoke loud with mockery. "We will tear them apart and drown them in the same sea they dared to attack us from! They took my hand decades ago and they still hold it as their greatest treasure, I say let us cut their heads and sent them back to the Dornish whore, Deria Martell!"
Soldiers raised their swords and cried in agreement.
"We will remind them of–" Orys left his words undone, for he and every man present felt something heavy in the air.
As if something large was in the air and was taking over their air... And a few heartbeats after that, a shadow covered the whole of Storm's End, as if the sun was stolen from the sky...
"Where did the sun go..." One of the soldiers muttered.
"I cannot see the sky!" Another soldier spoke in terror.
A few more words of worry were spoken loudly, but none sent a shiver down the spin until Orys Baratheon spoke.
"Balerion." Orys spoke to himself calmly and spoke a name he did not wish to speak.
"Maegor."
_________
As Balerion reached over the sky atop the Dornish fleet, Maegor could smell the terror and piss of the Dornish soldiers who wet themselves at the sight of the Black Dread.
"Balerion." Maegor spoke coldly. "Dracarys."
And with that, Balerion opened his old jaw and breathed fire upon the Shipbreaker Bay, upon the Dornish fleet.
Maegor could smell the burning flesh and hear the screams of Dornish Soldiers, and the terror of the soldiers on the land.
Orys immediately rushed down the stairs and yelled. "Open the gate!" And turned around and looked at his men. "Men! This is our chance to slaughter those Dornish fools who are already on the land! Take my fucking land back!"
And with that Orys and his men ran toward the gate, toward the hundreds of Dornish soldiers, as Maegor brunt their fleet.
Maegor watched from the top of Balerion as Baratheon soldiers attacked the Dornish soldiers and seeing that sent an old and familiar feeling down Maegor's spine. He wanted to taste the blood of his enemies on Blackfyre, not on top of Balerion.
Maegor brought Balerion lower to the ground and loosened the chain around his waist, and while wearing his armour and Blackfyre on his waist, Maegor jumped off Balerion to the ground.
Maegor raised his head to Balerion. "Balerion! Make them rue this day! Burn them all!" Maegor loudly commanded in High Valyrian.
Balerion roared and moved his wings and clapped them and flew to the remaining Dornish fleet and once more began to breathe fire upon the screaming fleet, and allowed them to fade in a fiery storm that ate the ships whole.
Maegor turned his head around. He could smell the blood in the air.
The air was thick with the scent of sand and sweat as Maegor the Cruel, a towering figure clad in his Valyrian steel armour, emerged from the ranks of his men. In his hands, he wielded the legendary sword Blackfyre, its blade shimmering with an ominous dark glow.
Across the barren battlefield, a contingent of Dornish soldiers, known for their resilience and cunning, stood ready to face the fearsome old Prince. The clash of steel against steel echoed through the arid expanse as Maegor advanced with an air of unwavering confidence, his dragon helm concealing the cruel glint in his eyes.
The Dornish soldiers, agile and skilled, formed a defensive line, their spears at the ready, but no match for Maegor the Cruel. Maegor charged, his massive frame thundering through the sand like a force of nature. The clash began with a thunderous collision as Blackfyre met the first Dornish spear, the impact sending shockwaves through the surrounding warriors, and the spear broke, and Blackfyre claimed its first victim of war.
Maegor swung Blackfyre with lethal precision, the black blade cutting through the air like a scythe. The Dornish soldiers, however, were no strangers to combat. They danced around him, their spears striking like serpents, aiming for the chinks in his armour. One of the soldiers who was foolish enough to attack Maegor met Blackfyre's sharp edge and his head rolled on the ground.
Maegor's movements were brutal and calculated. With each swing, he dispatched Dornish soldiers with a deadly efficiency that left the onlookers in awe. The battlefield became a whirlwind of steel and sand, the clash of weapons and the screams of the wounded merging into a symphony of war.
Maegor shoved Blackfyre in one's heart, and as he drew it out blood the of the Dornish soldier showered Maegor's armour and handsome face, redding Maegor's short silver hair and trimmed beard.
Maegor saw Orys fighting against three Dornish soldiers and rushed to him, killing every unfortunate soul who wore the clothing of a Dornishman.
"Maegor!" Orys yelled. The yell distracted the three soldiers, which Orys used as a chance to shove his sword into one's back of his throat.
Maegor picked one soldier up by his throat with his free hand and killed the other soldier with Blackfyre in his other hand. Maegor crushed the soldier's throat with the strength of his own hand and threw his lifeless body on the ground, and looked at Orys.
Orys was heavily wounded, cut by curved Dornish swords. "Get back to your fucking castle!" Maegor yelled as he saw a dozen Dornish soldiers attacking them.
"I can... still fight!" Orys spoke angrily as he groaned and grabbed his deep wounds across his chest and stomach.
"I said go!" Maegor yelled at Orys as Blackfyre met the steel of Donrish speers. "You are just deadweight here, you useless cunt!"
Before Orys could open his mouth to throw an answer back, his eldest son Davos fought his toward Orys and threw his father's arm around his neck. "Come, Father! Prince Maegor will handle this!" Davos spoke loud as he carried Orys.
Maegor swang Blackfyre and cut a Dornish soldier in half, half of the body fell to the ground, Maegor punched the other soldier in the face so hard, that he could feel the nose and cheekbone of the soldier crushed, but Maegor showed him mercy of a quick kill as he shoved Blackfyre in his heart.
As the soldiers fell to the ground, heavy steps were on the green grass... and a massive man wearing chainmail walked forward as his scared face was covered with a yellow cloth. The warrior was nearly as large as Maegor, but yet Maegor only smirked at his sight. "Come to Papa." Maegor smirked.
The two locked eyes and the air crackled with tension as they circled each other like predators sizing up their prey, and the monster of a man charged at Maegor with his large figure.
Every eye, and soldier present held their hands from fighting their enemy further, for they gazed at Maegor against the Dornish warrior. Their hearts beating with fear and some even excitement, for they knew this either meant Dorne would go back to Stepstones upon their loss, or they gave King Aenys a reason to mourn the loss of a loved one.
With a powerful roar, Maegor unleashed a flurry of strikes, but the Dornish Warriordanced away, narrowly avoiding each blow. The captain retaliated with a swift and precise thrust, aiming for Maegor's heart. The king parried the attack with Blackfyre, their blades locked in a deadly dance.
The sun sank lower, casting long shadows across the battlefield, and the clash between Maegor the Cruel and the Dornish captain reached its climax. The air hummed with the intensity of their struggle, a breathtaking display of skill and determination that would be remembered in Westerosi history.
As Maegor and the warrior are face to face with the clash of their sword and spear, Maegor leaned back, and with a powerful head bump broke the warrior's nose.
As the Dornish Warrior jumped back and reached for his broken nose, he tried to focus on the fight at hand and not the pain of his broken nose, but the air became cold, and with one swing of the sword, Maegor cut the Dornish warrior's hands off.
As his hands fell to the ground, the Dornish warrior opened his mouth to scream a cry out of pain, but before any sound could be formed in his mouth, Maegor's hand reached for his throat... and with a quick move, ripped the warrior's throat out.
The warrior fell on his back, and as he grew in horror, he began to drown in his own blood as his ripped throat gathered blood in its open wound.
The Dornish soldiers watched as their mighty warrior drowned in his own blood in terror. The Baratheon soldiers were taken back by the display of such a raw and unadulterated show of strength and power, for they knew watching a living legend such as Maegor was a rare sight.
"Salughter these sons of whores!" Maegor yelled as he pointed Blackfyre at the fear-struck Dornish soldiers.
The Baratheon soldiers with a new-found confidence cried a cry of war and began to march toward the Dornish Soldiers began to run away toward their ships as they screamed
"FALL BACK! FALL BACK!"
Maegor watched as the soldiers ran toward their boats to go back to their ships, but their faces became pale as they saw their fleet brunt to ashes on the water as Balerion continued to breathe fire on the water, ensuring that not even the ashes remained from the fleet.
Some of the Dornish soldiers began to swim away in horror, some threw their weapons to the ground and surrendered, and a very few opened their own throats with their daggers, choosing death over capture.
As the sun disappeared on the horizon, the Dornish fleet was no more, their soldiers either dead or captured. But Maegor knew the cold truth...
This was only a wave of the Dornish army. From the reports he had heard that the army that had conquered Stepstones was much larger... Dorne still holds Stepstones, and as long as they do this war is not over... Maegor thought to himself.
Yet he knew he should return to Kingslanding as soon as possible, for they may have lost Stepstones, but Storm's End would see another day as a castle of Westeros and not Dorne.
_________
The men of the army rested on the burnt ground as they drank honey beer and cheap wine as they celebrated their victory against the Dornishmen.
As Maegor cleaned the bloodied blade of Blackfyre as he was sitting on the stairs of Storm's End, he heard footsteps that walked toward him, so he raised his head and looked at the man walking toward him.
Davos Baratheon.
Davos Baratheon walked to Maegor calmly. "Prince Maegor, may I have a word with you?" Davos spoke calmly as he looked at Maegor with his black eyes.
The old Prince walked to Davos and towered over him, looked down into Davos's eyes with his own deep violet eyes and spoke coldly. "How is your father?"
"His wounds are deep... We have given him milk of the poppy." Davos spoke calmly. "Perhaps too much."
"Why is that?" Maegor asked uninterested as he waited for the boy to answer him.
"He has begun to speak some madness. Something regarding some letter that he should have written to the sellsword company of Stomcrows many years ago... about the location of... " Davos spoke calmly as he controlled the emotions in his voice. "well... the location of Prince Daemion."
Maegor's blood froze in his veins as he heard his son's name. "Why is your father speaking of my son?" Maegor spoke coldly and quickly.
Davos took a step back and spoke softly with worry in his voice. "I am afraid I do not know, Lord Hand."
Maegor stood up and put Blackfyre on the leash on his waist and began to walk up the stairs of Storm's End.
As Maegor began walking the stairs of the Storm's End, toward Orys's chamber, he could not help but feel his fist clenching. What location of my son?! What letter?! Maegor thought to himself as he climbed the stairs.
Maegor walked inside the chamber of Orys Baratheon.
Orys was half naked and his muscled body was covered with bloody bandages across his deep wounds that were across his chest and stomach. The only other person present was his wife, Argella, who sat on the bed next to Orys, holding his hand with a concerned look in her eyes.
Argella turned her head toward Maegor and spoke formally. "Prince Maegor."
As soon as Orys's black eyes fell on Maegor and heard his wife speak his name, he pushed Argella off the bed, and while trembling stood on his feet as he struggled to stand up straight.
"Oh! There he is! The hero of Storm's End! The saviour of the crown! Son to the fearsome Visenya. The legendary and mighty Maegor the cruel. A legend who fathered another legend. What a shame his son's legend was cut so short." Orys spoke as he spoke the word "legend" as mockery as he could make it sound as if he was in another world, with no sense of understanding where he was or whatever what he was in was dream or reality.
Argella got up from the ground that she had fallen on and looked at Orys with anger but yet concern. "Orys, you need to lay down." she spoke.
Maegor stayed silent, for he would not lower himself to change words with a man drunk on the milk of the puppy. But Orys continued.
"By the gods... You truly are the son of Aegon. Had only you been born earlier. Everyone, including me, always whispered amongst ourselves that 'A true king can only be born from Visenya's womb', and we were right after all!" Orys spoke as he smirked drunkenly. "It is quite ironic now that I think about it... For years Aenys was called a bastard, fathered by one of the singers Rhaenys had bedded, for being the pathetic man that he is, said that you are the only true son of the conqueror, and then a boy was born to you who only shared your eyes and nothing more."
Maegor grabbed the hilt of Blackfyre and squeezed in fury and fought his inner desire to unleash Blackfyre to not dirty Blackfyre with Orys's blood.
"Anyways... How can I show my appreciation to the all-mighty Maegor Targaryen? Suck your cock? Or allow you to take my wife to bed?" Orys spoke drunk and angrily and then chuckled feverishly. "...Or perhaps to beg for Daemion's forgiveness for scaring him away... so so far away that he still hides in wherever he is?"
Areglla's look became cold, she walked to Orys and punched him across the face as she heard his vile words, and angrily left the chamber without speaking a single word.
But Maegor stayed.
Maegor's breathing became heavier as he clenched his fist. "What are you speaking of?! Have you finally lost your mind, you dumb cunt?" Maegor spoke coldly through his teeth.
"I am speaking of how Daemion forgot where he belongs... Where and when he thought he was a proper match for the eldest grandchild of the Conqueror. Where he thought a name that he had earned in a place like Stepstones would save him from being called, a rumoured bastard. The Black Dragon or Bastard Dragon. Prince of Oldtown or the Bastard Prince. The Emerald Prince or the bastard of Maegor. Whatever he was, he was a coward of a man who chose to run rather than watch his beloved Princess open her legs to her brother!" Orys spoke bitterly and he slightly chuckled drunkenly as he hickuped before he continued.
"...For years, Rhaena took women of her company to bed... and then he came along... Beautiful Daemion Targaryen... His beautiful face was enough to fool Rhaena that he was a woman for her to open her legs to him!" Orys chuckled but then he frowned as if his feeling changed entirely. "What a pair they were! A whore and a bastard. A match made in the deepest pit of the seven hells."
"Speak my son's name one more time... And I will crush every bone in your body. I care not you are drunk on milk of the poppy or that you are my kin... watch your mouth." Maegor spoke colder and sharper than Blackfyre's blade. "The only thing that keeps my hand from tearing you from limb to limb with mine own hands is the years that you spent as the Hand of the King... nothing more, uncle."
Those words fell on the deaf ear of Orys, for he only continued.
"Loving him was a curse... And loving her was a mistake. They should have known better. Rhaena never belonged with Daemion, nor he with her... If your son knew his fucking limits...If only!" Orys spoke as he trembled and was incapable of standing up anymore.
"I should have sent those mercenaries right after Daemion as I learned that he had wet his cock with Rhaena's cunt. I never should have given that stupid whore any chance to send her lover boy away... It would have been better for all of us had Daemion died either in his cradle when your whore of a wife birthed him or torn apart by those Sellswords in Greenstone–"
Maegor's ears whistled so loud that he could swear that he had gone deaf.
"You did what..." Maegor spoke through his teeth. And the chamber fell into shivering coldness.
"I sent your son away, you fucking brute." Orys spoke zoned out. "I should have killed him, send that letter to the Sellswords to fucking kill him at Greenstone before he ever even spoke to Deria or his fucking uncle–" Orys's words were never finished...
Before he could finish his sentence, Blackfyre had cut across his chest, but only barely, for Maegor saw blood, and not how far he was from Orys to land a killing blow.
Orys fell on his back and began to crawl away backward as he began to yell "You fucking animal! You fucking brute!"
Maegor only saw red.
Maegor roared like an animal and threw Blackfyre aside... Blackfyre was meant for nobler deeds than to be wet with the blood of a man like Orys... Maegor would not dishonour Blackfyre... But he could not say the same thing for his fists.
So Maegor threw himself on top of Orys... His fists crushed every part of Orys's skull like the rhythm of a song as he kept bringing his hands up to hit him one more time.
All Orys Baratheon could do, was scream out of pain, hoping for a rescue that even if it arrived within seconds, still it would be too late.
Maegor lived and cherished every crushing sound that was made when his fists hit Orys's face. Whatever it was the sound of his broken skull or the wet noise from his mouth as it was filled with blood.
"Enough!" Maegor heard Aegella Durrandon scream, as she tried to reach for Maegor's shoulders to hold him back... But now, even Balerion could not stop Maegor.
Maegor began beating Orys bloody and savagely. With every punch in his face, he could feel more teeth fall out of Orys's mouth, or more parts of his skull were crushed.
Maegor pulled Orys close by his hair and punched Orys so hard in his ribs that he felt four of Orys's ribs were crushed from Maegor's sheer strength in that single punch.
Maegor continued beating Orys... Until his eyes, beard and short silver hair were covered with blood, and his eyes could not see anything other than the redness of the blood that had covered his eyes.
Maegor finally let go of Orys's collar and looked upon him.
Nothing was left of Orys's face. Nothing but the remains of, what Maegor could assume was, his brain and what appeared to be the inside of his crushed skull, with white bones appearing in the pit of meat which was once Orys's face.
Maegor felt pain in his fist, so he took his bloody gloves off and looked at his hand. His knuckles had blackened, swollen and appeared to be broken.
"Orys Bratheon died of his wounds, after the battle, as he fought against Dornishmen." Maegor spoke calmly and coldly.
Argella looked at Maegor in horror and trembled.
"Repeat what I said..." Maegor spoke coldly as he stood up and turned his mountain of muscle toward and walked to her as he towered over Argella.
"Orys... Died of wounds he received in battle... As he fought against Dornishmen." Argella repeated with a shaky voice. A voice filled with terror, but yet hatred.
"I hear otherwise... And I will make Storm's End another Harrenhal, and Storm Lands another Valyria." Maegor spoke calmly and coldly. "And I would put your son, Davos, in the ground so you would have another reason to grieve. So you would know what is it like to not have your son by your side."
And with that, Maegor walked outside of the chamber.
___________________________________
In stepstones, Olyvar Fowler watched as small boats of Dornish Soldiers returned to shore. Some were burnt to living and breathing cooked meat, and some were so torn apart that Olyvar knew Death would be a better-suited fate.
"WHAT HAPPENED IN STORMLANDS?!" Olyvar yelled at the soldiers as other soldiers from stepstones helped to carry them.
"It was the most monstrous thing I had ever seen..." A soldier cried in pain as he was carried away.
"When that dragon came, the Sun disappeared." Another one screamed in pain.
"That was not a man... I had never seen a man as tall or muscular as that monster!" Another wounded soldier spoke as he bled.
Olyvar needed answers, but yet these soldiers only spoke in riddles and nonsense. So Olyvar walked to a soldier with a wound on his stomach, who was the least wounded of all the soldiers who had returned from Stormlands.
"Tell me! What happened in Storm's End?!" Olyvar Fowler asked angrily.
The soldier looked at Olyvar Fowler, and only muttered one name... A name that sends terror through Olyvar Fowler's body.
"Maegor the Cruel..."