Game of Thrones: Killing to the top

The first bloodrider struck like a viper, his arakh flashing toward Aegon's throat.

Aegon ducked low, feeling the wind of the blade passing inches from his skin. He retaliated with a brutal upward slash, slicing through the rider's arm. The man howled, blood spraying as his weapon fell from his grasp.

Aegon didn't hesitate. He twisted his sword and plunged it into the man's chest.

(Ding!! one Dothraki warrior killed +9 points)

The bloodrider fell from his horse, dead before he hit the ground.

The second and third bloodriders attacked at once.

Aegon barely managed to deflect the first strike, but the second bloodrider's blade found its mark, cutting a deep gash across Aegon's side.

Pain burned through his body.

The scent of blood filled his nostrils.

Aegon snarled and slammed his arakh into the bloodrider's leg, nearly severing it. The man screamed, tumbling off his horse.

(Ding!! one Dothraki warrior killed +9 points)

The third bloodrider roared in fury, slashing wildly, aiming to cleave Aegon's head from his shoulders.

Aegon twisted his body at the last moment the arakh carved a bloody line across his chest, but missed his throat.

Ignoring the pain, Aegon drove his sword through the man's ribs, piercing his heart.

(Ding!! one Dothraki warrior killed +9 points)

The third bloodrider crumpled, lifeless.

Only the Khal remained.

Aegon's breath was heavy. His side and chest burned from his wounds, blood dripped down his body, but he refused to falter.

The Khal growled, his eyes filled with rage. He yanked the reins of his stallion and charged.

Their weapons clashed.

The Khal was strong brutally strong.

Aegon blocked a heavy blow, but the impact sent pain lancing through his arms. The Khal pressed forward, raining powerful strikes down, forcing Aegon on the defensive.

Aegon was bleeding, and tired, his muscles screaming in agony.

But he had one advantage.

Speed.

As the Khal swung another massive strike, Aegon ducked under it, kicking his horse forward too close for the Khal to strike again.

And then, with all his strength, Aegon drove his sword deep into the Khal's gut.

The Khal's eyes widened in shock as blood poured from his mouth. He gasped, trying to speak, but no words came.

Aegon twisted the blade.

And with a final push, he ripped it free.

The Khal tumbled from his horse, dead.

(Ding!! one Khal killed + 10 points)

Silence.

Then a piercing war cry shattered the moment.

The enemy Dothraki, though leaderless, fought on.

Even weakened, outnumbered, and demoralized, they still held their arakhs high.

Aegon gritted his teeth. Victory was close, but the battle was not yet over.

A rage started bubbling over, and Aegon ignored the tiredness and pain, finding the strength to dash forward. One slash and Dothraki died.

(Ding!! one Dothraki warrior killed +9 points)

He didn't defend arakhs sliced across his chest as Aegon saw red cutting down Dothraki like a beast let out of its cage, trading injury for life, soon there was almost no Dothraki warrior around Aegon.

Looking at the man completely covered in blood the enemy Dothraki warriors soon started dropping their weapons in surrender.

But Aegon could not stop.

His body was covered in wounds, his side bleeding heavily, his breathing ragged but the fire inside him burned hotter than ever. His arakh swung in wild arcs, cutting down Dothraki warriors even as they threw down their weapons in surrender.

The fear in their eyes did not reach him.

Only the hunger for more blood did.

His blade met flesh again and again, the clash of steel and the screams of dying men ringing in his ears like a song. Even as warriors fell to their knees, begging for mercy, his hands moved on their own, cutting them down like animals.

It was not a battle anymore. It was a slaughter.

And it should have ended.

Until the world blurred into red.

Until he was nothing but the blood and the fire inside him.

Then, suddenly

(Ding!! Two individuals have reached the required level of loyalty required to share points from their kills with the host.)

It stopped.

Aegon stood there, blood dripping from his sword, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

The surviving Dothraki had stepped back, staring at him in awe and terror.

There was no defiance left in their eyes. No will to resist.

Only fear.

Aegon forced himself to breathe.

He was done.

The battle was over.

The war had been won.

But he could not shake the feeling that he had lost something in the process.

The campfires burned low, casting long shadows across the Dothraki encampment. The celebration had been muted, filled more with caution than revelry. Aegon's warriors had drank and feasted, but their eyes constantly flickered toward him, as if they were still trying to understand what they had seen.

Inside his tent, Aegon sat alone.

The pain from his wounds had settled deep into his bones. His body ached, and his mind would not let him rest.

What happened to me today?

The bloodlust had been unlike anything he had ever felt before. It had not been rage. It had not been a desire for battle.

It had been something deeper. 

(Ding!! It is a result of the primary awakening of the Targaryen bloodline, as you know the Targaryen tend to be bloodthirsty, cruel, and quick to anger, your outburst today was that in action. If you had not kept the stark bloodline your outburst would have been worse.)

Aegon's jaw clenched.

So that was it.

The Targaryens had always been known for their passion, their fire, their madness. But he had always thought he was different.

He had control.

Except he didn't.

Today has proven that.

(Your Stark blood keeps you grounded, but your Targaryen blood is dominant. With your training as an assassin in controlling your emotions it won't affect you much unless something makes your anger reach its limits.)

Aegon let out a slow breath, running a hand through his silver hair.

So this was the price of power.

Before he could ponder further, the tent flap rustled.

Aegon looked up, his body tensing.

A woman entered.

A Dothraki woman.