Sansa Stark lay in the dust, paralyzed and her ears ringing. Something heavy lay on her and held her to the ground. It took the queen a moment to remember it was Ser Rickon.
"Your Grace!", she heard the voice of Lord Royce indistinctly. "Your Grace, can you hear me?"
"Yes", Sansa gasped.
"Thanks to the Seven!" Someone pulled Rickon off Sansa, then strong hands helped her on her feet. She saw the leader of her bodyguard lying on the ground motionless and with empty eyes. Blood ran from the dead knight's mouth and nose, and shards of metal stuck all over his body that had even penetrated his armor.
"Rickon..." Sansa looked down at herself. She didn't have a single scratch. The knight had covered her completely, shielding her from the splinters and the force of the detonation. Other bodies covered in blood lay nearby.
"I'm sorry, Your Grace", said Royce. "He died doing his duty. But there is still no time to mourn."
The Imperials were still firing their new infernal weapon at the Alliance forces. Explosions tore the air.
The flying bombs created enough confusion in the enemy ranks for the 7th Cavalry Division on the southern flank to take the initiative. Their commander, Colonel Rommo, did not wait for new orders to come in after the last knights had been removed. Instead, he rushed to the aid of the other four cavalry divisions that were still facing the opposing light cavalry.
Rommos Dothraki fired arrows at the enemy as they approached, but instead of trying to keep their distance, he sought hand-to-hand combat. Arakhs sparkled in the sun, and then the 7th Cavalry Division fell upon the Alliance riders like a horde of enraged demons while the other divisions gave him fire protection. Though almost twice the majority, the opponents were soon dispersed after several of their captains had fallen.
But the colonel wasn't finished. He rallied the other cavalry divisions (whose commanders submitted to him without hesitation) and pushed forward to the river bank, while to his left the Imperial infantrymen were still fighting with the heavy foot soldiers of the Alliance and to the right the enemy reserve troops were gathering.
"What are they doing?", Daenerys asked. "Who told them to advance?"
"Nobody, Your Majesty", Grey Worm replied calmly. "Colonel Rommo is just proving his initiative again."
Indeed, the commander of the 7th Cavalry Division was notorious for such "self-initiative". The Empress had met him once on a visit to the Eastern Front. Back then she had personally awarded him the Order of the Black Dragon, First Class.
Unlike most Dothraki, Rommo had had no trouble conforming to the rules of the Imperial Army. However, he has always tended to act unauthorized. His unpredictability surprised friends and foes alike - and that was what made Rommo's success.
"I just hope he knows what he's doing", Dany growled.
"I think so", said Grey Worm. "The Colonel cuts off the opponents who are currently attacking our lines from the rest of the Alliance army."
"Yes, but now he can easily be surrounded himself."
The Field Marshal nodded. "So we have to follow up." He leaned over the map table and shifted the figures of the infantry divisions that formed the southern part of the Imperial front line so that they encircled part of the enemy force. He placed the elephant divisions and the 'Iron Fist' further up front, where they could keep the rest of the Alliance army in check or launch an attack themselves.
"I don't mind that we take the initiative", said Daenerys. "But a single division commander shouldn't dictate our tactics."
"To be fair to Colonel Rommo, he's basically just carrying out a plan that we discussed before the battle, Your Majesty."
The Empress sighed. "Well. Then initiate the counterattack, Field Marshal."
The ongoing rocket fire made it difficult for Yohn Royce to build up his reserves. By the time he did make it, the Imperial forces had already driven a wedge into the Alliance army. Much of the heavy infantry was surrounded and cut off from the rest of the army.
Royce intended to fight his way through to the trapped, but was now attacked by the entire Imperial cavalry and sixty thousand foot soldiers. And the enemy had his elephants with him.
The war beasts carried heavy ballistae on their backs, with which they wreaked havoc from afar. The Dothraki, who had in the meantime supplied themselves with new ammunition, let down a hail of arrows, while crossbowmen did their part. Even before the two sides clashed, the massive Imperial fire had clearly thinned the ranks of the Alliance.
When the Empress received the news that the last of the encircled enemies had surrendered, the sun was already headed for the western horizon.
Daenerys allowed herself a brief moment of triumph. But she knew no battle was won while there were enemies in the field. Most of the Alliance army still held out. Yet.
"Daenerys is still sitting on her hill", Sansa said flatly. She had recovered from the shock of the rocket impact. To her relief, the Imperial soldiers appeared to have run out of missiles. In return, their regular troops slowly but surely gained the upper hand, although they were still outnumbered.
"She has learned to be patient", said Lord Royce.
Patience. The virtue Sansa had denied her, Daenerys Targaryen had demonstrated here and now. The Queen of the North had no doubt that the dragon would still appear - but only if the Empress found the conditions ideal.
More than half of the ballistae that were supposed to protect the Alliance army against the dragon had meanwhile been destroyed, either by artillery fire or because the positions had simply been overrun.
A group of Free Cities soldiers came up on the hill. Sansa saw that they were carrying a wounded man. It was Jaqicho Hartar, the First Magister of Norvos. Two crossbow bolts stuck in his chest. Blood ran from his mouth.
"Jaqicho!", shouted Belen Osten, the First Magister of Qohor, when the injured man was laid on the ground. Sansa wondered why he hadn't been taken to a hospital tent. Then she realized it made no difference anymore.
"Belen", said the Norvosi hoarsely. "Carry on the fight. Promise me."
"We will win this war together", replied the Qohorik in a tear-choked voice. "Hold on, my brother. How should we without you..."
"Lord Belen", said Royce. "He is dead."
Belen Osten closed the dead man's eyes and remained kneeling silently beside him. Sansa thought about how difficult it had been to get the two magisters to work together. They had been bitter rivals, but the fight against the Dragon Empress had made them friends. No, brothers.
And now one of the two pillars that supported the League of Free Cities had fallen.
"What do you think, Field Marshal, is the time now?", asked Daenerys.
Grey Worm glanced briefly at the evening sun. "I think so, Your Majesty. But be careful, there are still enough ballistae left to be dangerous to you."
The Empress of the New Valyrian Empire mounted her dragon and let him soar several hundred meters into the sky. Then, with the sun behind her, she pounced on the remaining Alliance artillery positions.
In the first attempt, Drogon destroyed two thirds of the devices. Then he had to avoid a hail of bolts. One of the projectiles penetrated the skin of his left wing. Fortunately, with proper medical treatment, such an injury would heal completely, and for now, it did not interfere with the dragon.
For a moment, Sansa thought that the ballistaeers had hit Drogon. But the black dragon continued its work of destruction undeterred.
"Your Grace", said Lord Royce gravely. "Take your bodyguard and get to safety."
Even though she had now eliminated all ballistae she could find, Daenerys remained cautious. She made Drogon fly an unpredictable zigzag course in case there were still artillery positions hidden somewhere.
Looking for a suitable target, the Empress found the banner of the First Magister of Qohor.
When Belen Osten saw the dragon flying straight towards him, he knew it was over. The men around him threw themselves to the ground or tried to get to safety somehow, but he just stood stoic and looked death in the eye. It came immediately in the form of an all-destructive firestorm that left nothing but ash within a radius of fifty meters.
After taking care of the Qohorik, Dany caught sight of a group of horsemen, dressed in the uniforms of the Starks, who were quickly moving away from the battlefield. She immediately went into pursuit. The Empress could not find a head of red hair among the Northerners, but Sansa was certainly smart enough to put on a helmet so as not to be recognized from afar.
In a matter of moments the dragon caught up with the riders. One of them was wearing a black dress. Drogon flew close overhead, landed right in front of them, and let out a bloodcurdling scream. The horses panicked and threw off their riders.
Dany slipped off Drogon's back to see a squad of Dothraki had followed her and surrounded the Starks. With her Valyrian short sword Flame in her right hand, she walked towards the figure in the black dress who was just getting up from the floor.
"Be so kind and take off your helmet, Your Grace."
Sansa Stark tore off her headgear and stared defiantly at the Empress with her blue eyes. Her bodyguards drew their swords, but the queen shook her head.
"So we'll see each other again", said Daenerys.
Lord Royce had no choice but to rally as many men as possible and hurry to retreat. Most of the survivors of the Alliance army, however, scattered to the wind. The Battle of Ar Noy, as the maesters of the Citadel would later call it, was almost over. In Essos, however, this event would be remembered as the 'Mother of All Battles'.
In the last light of the setting sun, Imperial soldiers hoisted the Imperial flag on the Alliance General's Hill, and from that moment on, victory belonged to Daenerys Targaryen.