There were no wails, no struggles, not even severed limbs.
That stretch of wall, along with everyone upon it, was simply erased from the world, as though it had never existed.
Aegon did not spare his "masterpiece" another glance. He sat upright on the dragon's spine, his face expressionless behind his visor, as though he had merely brushed away a speck of dust.
He patted the dragon's back. King Ghidorah's three heads turned at once, six molten-gold slit pupils sweeping over the deathly silent breach below and the distant city, hushed by utter terror. Not a ripple of emotion stirred within them.
With a beat of his enormous wings, a gale erupted. His vast, pale-gold body shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, leaving the outskirts behind and flying straight into King's Landing.
His immense shadow swept over the city like Death's cloak, bearing down with unstoppable force as he headed straight for his next target, without the slightest hesitation or pause.
Before the allied army, the shock that followed the silence swept through every soldier like a soundless tide.
The elite soldiers of the Ashen Company, clad in black cloaks like moving tombstones, and the knights of the Blood Oath Band, wrapped in scarlet cloaks like burning flames, all gripped their weapons so tightly that their knuckles turned white.
Their fine plate armor gleamed coldly, and a forest of spears pointed skyward, yet dipped slightly as the dragon's shadow passed overhead, as though every sharp edge were meaningless before absolute power.
Tens of thousands of soldiers raised their heads together, watching the immense pale-gold Giant Shadow fly into the city, seemingly slow yet impossibly fast. Everyone held their breath. Only the snapping of banners and the drumbeat of hearts remained.
Jon Connington stood alone at the most