"It seemed like a god coming from the heavens to save us with fire and blood." A soldier's account during the Great War of Salvation seeing the gigantic crimson dragon flying above him.
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Eddard looked at his son and smiled happily. Robb had arrived at Castle Black with good news. Val was pregnant with Robb's child. Eddard couldn't help but feel proud of his son for winning over that beautiful woman.
Looking at the worried expression on his son's face, Eddard suppressed the happiness in his chest and said with a solemn expression. "Don't show that expression again; you are the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, you must always remain calm in moments of pressure."
Robb smiled bitterly upon hearing his father's words; it was easier said than done. How could he remain calm on an occasion like this? He wasn't Eddard, who had gone through many things and developed a firm and calm character; he was only fourteen years old and far from being at the peak of his life.
Suddenly, Eddard heard thunderous sounds and knew that the cannons had started firing. He also noticed the army moving and the war cries spreading throughout the army. The Old Lord of Winterfell knew that the war had officially begun!
"Go back inside Castle Black and stay in the rear." Lowering the visor of his wolf-head-shaped helmet, Eddard said with a solemn tone. Looking at his son through the narrow view of the helmet, he spoke.
"Be a man and take care of your sisters and brothers."
"Don't make the same mistake as me; be a good husband and father."
"Robb Stark, Winterfell is yours."
"May the Old Gods bless you, father." Robb hugged Eddard tightly and spoke with a trembling voice.
Separating from the embrace, Eddard stroked his son's hair and said nothing. He picked up Ice, the legendary sword of House Stark, and rested it on his shoulder, leaving without looking back as his son watched his back.
"For the North!!!" Raising his sword towards the sky, Eddard spoke in a loud and clear tone to the Lords of the North.
"For the North!!!" The Lords of the North raised their swords and followed their Feudal Lord into battle.
This scene was not only happening in the Northern Army; the smaller armies like those from the Vale, Riverlands, Storm's Lands, Westerlands, and Dorne, who accompanied Aenar to the North, did similarly. Only the Iron Islands were missing at that moment, but no one really cared about them.
On the Battlefield.
The cannons roared fiercely as massive iron balls flew over the friendly army and hit deeper into the enemy army. The sound of the explosions seemed louder than thunder.
Kinvara, wearing red leather armor, raised her hands as if in an orchestra. But what she commanded was not the drums of war, but fire itself.
A gigantic barrier of fire rose in a straight line in the middle of the Wights' army, essentially dividing it into two smaller ones. The heat wave spread to the sides, bringing hot embers.
Moqorro, beside Kinvara, protected the Reverend Mother with a flaming hammer, crushing any Wights that approached. The man was large, dark-skinned, with white hair and beard, looking like a powerful and furious lion on the battlefield.
Other priestesses and warriors protected Kinvara, preventing her from suffering any harm while the Reverend Mother herself controlled the existing fire like a true goddess.
The great consumption of magic left Kinvara's face pale, but the woman didn't stop; her hands moved elegantly from one side to the other, the flames following her movements like a beautiful, yet deadly dance.
Where the fire passed, it consumed everything in its path. The Wights, who were much more fragile than the White Walkers, were reduced to ashes by Kinvara's flames in mere moments.
Suddenly, Kinvara looked north, where miraculous horses could be seen. These horses were not normal; all white, extremely thin with frightening eyes. Riding these horses were strangely beautiful men in ice armor, all of whom held ice spears.
(Note: According to George Martin, the Others are indeed beautiful, albeit in a somewhat strange and frightening way, but they are still beautiful.)
The Others!
It was the first time Kinvara had seen such creatures, but she recognized them the moment her gaze fell upon them. True monsters who only wanted to bring death to everyone.
With a quick flick of her hand, Kinvara controlled her fire and fiercely attacked the White Walkers! She knew she couldn't allow these creatures to attack the army, or there would be many allied casualties.
The fire advanced like a wave of fire, majestic, powerful, and extremely deadly. However, the creatures didn't show much fear; one who seemed to be the leader simply raised his hand, and a gigantic ice shield stopped the wave of fire!
Kinvara showed a solemn look; she knew the fight wouldn't be easy, but she didn't imagine her attack would be blocked so easily. The White Walker was definitely not weak; on the contrary, he was very strong. Fortunately, she had help.
Under everyone's eyes, a white flame descended from the sky and heavily struck the White Walkers! Sanguinius, holding an enormous white fire sword, descended from the sky with a big smile on his face.
"I am Sanguinius, Primarch of the Future Blood Angels Legion!!!" He announced to the entire battlefield with pride.
The White Walker looked at the human boy with wings with an eternally cold gaze. Dismounting his horse, he manifested an ice spear and attacked Sanguinius without saying a word.
Sanguinius also attacked with a solemn look; he swung his fire sword and collided head-on with the ice spear!
When the two elemental weapons touched, the ground sank, the earth flew upwards as it broke into many pieces. Sanguinius's small body didn't retreat a single step.
On the other hand, the White Walker retreated two steps back, showing that he had lost a struggle of forces. For the first time, the White Walker looked at the boy before him with a calm, yet serious gaze.
Without saying a word, both began to fight again. Blow after blow, ice spear against fire sword. The consequences of the battle were a place marked by ice and fire, frozen earth and burned earth.
Honestly, this White Walker being able to fight Sanguinius showed that he was probably only weaker than the Night King. Probably the second in command.
Kinvara didn't stand by watching the fight unfold. She attacked from a long distance and kept the other White Walkers busy so they wouldn't join the war for now.
Not when the number of Wights was still terribly high. Without Leda, Sigismund, and Titus on the front line, along with the five hundred Astartes, the defense line could not be held at the cost of many sacrifices.
Something that, at the beginning of this war, Kinvara didn't want to see. Humans were precious war resources and could not be sacrificed just to keep the front line stable.
So, Kinvara had to fight against thousands of White Walkers while the Three Demigods killed as many Wights as possible!
Not caring about the consumption of magic, Kinvara touched the ruby on her neck. The ruby began to glow; it seemed like there was a flame burning fiercely inside the ruby.
Raising her hands, Kinvara showed an expression of great effort and simply manifested the largest amount of flames she had ever invoked in her life.
A two-hundred-meter sea of fire advanced towards the thousands of White Walkers while killing a large number of Wights. The scene was so shocking that it even made the war stop for a second, before resuming with more brutality.
Above the Wall, Aenar was sitting on Caraxes's saddle, who was resting his enormous body on the Ice Wall. The king looked at the battlefield while holding the reins of the saddle. His hair fluttered in the cold northern wind and the glowing embers.
Caraxes's entire neck was covered by silver armor, including a helmet that protected his eyes but didn't affect the dragon's field of vision. Every time he moved, a piece of ice broke off the wall, showing the strength of the enormous crimson dragon.
Suddenly, Aenar's purple eyes stared in a specific direction.
In the forest, a robust and powerful horse emerged. The horse's strangely blue eyes looked directly at Aenar. Sitting on the horse, the Night King, holding an ice spear, also looked at Aenar and Caraxes calmly.
Feeling that this was a provocation, the dragon moved his enormous body, his long neck snaked through the air, and he opened his mouth to roar.
*RHUAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!*
Stroking the dragon's neck, Aenar said in a soft tone. "Let's fight, old friend."
Caraxes didn't hesitate; he opened his wings and fell in free fall towards the ground!
Aenar narrowed his eyes and leaned his body forward as he calmly watched himself fall at dizzying speeds. His hair fluttered violently against the cold northern wind.
When the dragon was fifty meters from the ground, he flapped his wings hard and slowed his descent. In an instant, the dragon was already flying dangerously close to the ground and both armies.
"Dracarys." Aenar commanded in a calm tone.
Caraxes opened his mouth and aimed at the ground; a torrent of crimson fire came out of his mouth and fell upon the ground. Reducing everything in its path to ashes.
In mere seconds, at least ten thousand Wights had been reduced to ashes!
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