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- May 31, 2016
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Valkeries Targaryen.
A man of composure and spite. A Knight of the South. Prince by name and conquer by title. A youth and a derelict.
Who are wolves to question dragons? Are stags not prey? Who decided that they should be predators? Certainly not Valkeries.
"Ready your men. We will show these savages of the North who the crown belongs to. Let none pass your defense or you shall be remembered as cowards! The one true king is Aerys and all who defy him are just as mad!"
Valkeries spurred his horse. Upon the hill behind him, trumpets of the divines bellowed. The Stark's had them outnumbered. But they underestimated Targaryen might.
Swords were raised and arrows flew. In his shining armor, Valkeries felt invincible. War was a game. All who opposed the crown fell before his hand. Fire and blood would never be forgotten as long as a single Targaryen remained. Behind the front lines, the Lannister Guard stood ready. Such noble creatures, lions. A marvelous sight. Their armor was pristine and their hearts untouched by nothing but greed and power, power which the Targaryens had so easily supplied.
Valkeries cavalry followed blindly behind him. Their short swords glinted in the soft sunlight of mid afternoon and their horses panted in the heat. No Northerners could ever challenge the crown. No men of the north could ever match up the the speed and precision of Lannister archers and Targaryen swordsmen.
"Nothing is as cold as the hands of the divines! I wish you all a swift end."
Whispered Valkeries as he charged forward through a volley of arrows. His horse was of the finest quality, delivered from Essos when he was just a boy, the steed was a marvel. It's speed rivaled any other riders he had come across. Valkerion had named him Aelinor out of spite for the king's wife. Penrose had always looked down on him, and Valkerion felt a certain power in commanding a horse that held the same name as her, every now and then he would even smirk at the blasphemous name. Valkerion was loyal too Aerys, but his bride was nothing more than a whore in his eyes.
Vakkerion lowered his lance, and prepared to strike a banner carrier of House Bolten as he closed the distance between the two opposing armies.
A man of composure and spite. A Knight of the South. Prince by name and conquer by title. A youth and a derelict.
Who are wolves to question dragons? Are stags not prey? Who decided that they should be predators? Certainly not Valkeries.
"Ready your men. We will show these savages of the North who the crown belongs to. Let none pass your defense or you shall be remembered as cowards! The one true king is Aerys and all who defy him are just as mad!"
Valkeries spurred his horse. Upon the hill behind him, trumpets of the divines bellowed. The Stark's had them outnumbered. But they underestimated Targaryen might.
Swords were raised and arrows flew. In his shining armor, Valkeries felt invincible. War was a game. All who opposed the crown fell before his hand. Fire and blood would never be forgotten as long as a single Targaryen remained. Behind the front lines, the Lannister Guard stood ready. Such noble creatures, lions. A marvelous sight. Their armor was pristine and their hearts untouched by nothing but greed and power, power which the Targaryens had so easily supplied.
Valkeries cavalry followed blindly behind him. Their short swords glinted in the soft sunlight of mid afternoon and their horses panted in the heat. No Northerners could ever challenge the crown. No men of the north could ever match up the the speed and precision of Lannister archers and Targaryen swordsmen.
"Nothing is as cold as the hands of the divines! I wish you all a swift end."
Whispered Valkeries as he charged forward through a volley of arrows. His horse was of the finest quality, delivered from Essos when he was just a boy, the steed was a marvel. It's speed rivaled any other riders he had come across. Valkerion had named him Aelinor out of spite for the king's wife. Penrose had always looked down on him, and Valkerion felt a certain power in commanding a horse that held the same name as her, every now and then he would even smirk at the blasphemous name. Valkerion was loyal too Aerys, but his bride was nothing more than a whore in his eyes.
Vakkerion lowered his lance, and prepared to strike a banner carrier of House Bolten as he closed the distance between the two opposing armies.