Chapter 446: Father and Son Reunited

A green fire ignited amidst the piercing screams.

Flesh and blood scorched, armor melted, life returned to death.

"Roar!"

Cannibal roared, and the misty Dragonfire spread evenly, like the grim reaper.

Rhaegar looked calm, playing with a silver-white dagger shaped like a dragon horn.

Calm and composed.

He watched the arrogant Prince of Dorne struggle and scream, reduced to a charred corpse.

"Arrogant wisdom is a form of unseeing stupidity," Rhaegar mused, surveying the devastation.

Qoren had been clever. He foresaw the Iron Throne's intentions to wage war against Dorne and sought to use the Free Cities beyond the Narrow Sea to weaken its power. Unfortunately, his cleverness had backfired.

From the moment the Triarchy was broken, Dorne was doomed.

Rhaegar shook his head at the charred, steel-like corpse. "None of the Free Cities are trustworthy. You chose the wrong allies from the start."

Dorne's involvement in the war caused Braavos to back down and shift the conflict to its allies. Qoren failed to control his nobles and hesitated to make the decisive move to destroy everything.

During the First Dorne War, Dorne's success in negotiations was due in large part to the unyielding spirit of the Yellow Toad. Without the courage to fight to the death, Dorne's military strength paled compared to The Reach. Even with such resolve, they couldn't stop the Targaryens at the height of their power.

Located in the desert, Dorne's development was slow, limited by its harsh environment.

"Roar..."

Dreamfyre flew in the distance, its body passing through the clouds.

Rhaegar saw it and patted the back of the Cannibal. The Cannibal knew the signal and slowly flapped its wings to land.

Dreamfyre flew closer, its hind legs stepping on the scorched corpses in the sand, and its rider leaning forward to reveal herself.

Helaena's face lit up with excitement. "Lord Corlys has taken Sunspear and has the situation under control," she said happily.

"What about the Dorne army?" Rhaegar asked, eyeing the hole Qoren had dug.

Hundreds had just been burned to death, but there were still more than a thousand standing soldiers in Sunspear.

"Aegon blocked the entrance, so they can't escape," Helaena pointed to the hole in the ground. "There's a team in the secret passage. Lord Corlys asked me to block it."

"Oh?" Rhaegar's eyes sparked with inspiration, and he urged the Cannibal to the hole's exit.

The entrance was narrow, with a large amount of sand and gravel seeping in.

"Roar..."

Cannibal turned its head, green pupils peering into the darkness of the tunnel.

A hot breath was sprayed into the tunnel, and a moment later, there was a commotion inside.

A dragon is the crystallization of blood and fire.

Not only is Dragonfire terrifying, but the breath exhaled from its mouth and nostrils is also extremely hot.

As the Cannibal grew, the heat from his nosealone could burn the skin under his clothes.

Rhaegar's face turned cold, and he shouted, "Come out!"

Qoren had three children, and he had already captured two of them. He still needed one more heir.

"Roar..."

Cannibal let out a low growl, and the dragon's mouth opened wide, gathering the dark green Dragonfire in its throat.

"We surrender. Spare the Princess."

Hundreds of Dorne soldiers swarmed out of the tunnel, and a noble officer cradled a tearful Aliandra in his arms.

Having heard her father's painful screams, Aliandra knew that she had lost him forever.

Her heart was filled with grief and hatred.

"Dracarys!"

The girl's voice rang out, calm but resolute.

"Roar..."

Dreamfyre's eyes flashed with murderous intent, and a jet of orange and blue Dragonfire shot out.

The Dragonfire streaked past the Cannibal's eyes and landed precisely on the heads of more than a hundred Dorne soldiers.

Aliandra, with her blank expression, was incinerated along with the rest.

Rhaegar's eyes widened slightly, and he looked straight at Helaena.

Helaena said calmly, "She hates you."

"Yes," Rhaegar said, his eyelids twitching.

He had considered keeping Aliandra, which would have been beneficial for his subsequent rule.

Helaena lowered her eyes and said anxiously, "I am a girl and your Visenya, I will eliminate the difficult characters for you."

That Dorne girl is impossible to train!

Rhaegar was moved. "You're right. We still have two Martells."

Helaena looked up at him timidly.

They looked at each other and smiled.

"Let's go."

Rhaegar patted the dragon's back and said seriously, "With the collapse of the Martell regime, Dorne will fall into chaos, and the hidden rebels will all come out."

He was going to claim the throne in Sunspear and then head to Yronwood.

The Dorne nobles in Boneway are a tough nut to crack, so they need to concentrate their firepower.

...

Yronwood.

"Roar!"

The Bronze Dragon swooped down, shattering the spire of the tower with its tail and landing in the castle courtyard with wings spread wide.

"Your Grace..."

The Cargyll brothers approached, their silver armor and white robes making them look imposing.

"Hmm." Viserys carefully climbed down the dragon's back, saying, "Rhaegar wrote to me that he and Lord Corlys are attacking Sunspear today. We need to be on high alert."

Erryk, with a solemn expression, reassured him, "Your Grace, don't worry. Ser Cole has taken over the city's defenses with 3,000 soldiers. We have people stationed inside and outside the castle."

Arryk, always smooth and tactful, added, "We will protect your safety at all times."

Hearing this, Viserys nodded, feeling much more at ease.

Like Wyl, Yronwood was also empty.

In keeping with his strategic objective ofcontrolling Boneway, Blackhaven, Bitterbridge, and Grassy Vale had gathered 3,000 soldiers, and he personally led the army to Yronwood, the gateway to Boneway.

Viserys twisted his body, his armor making it difficult for him to walk, and he couldn't wait to reach the tower.

"Roar..."

Suddenly, a strange, eerie sound came to his ears.

Viserys's heart leapt, and he turned around in surprise.

A brownish mud dragon came into view. The dried-up dragon's head had sunken eye sockets, and its vertical pupils flashed with cunning light.

"Aemond!"

Viserys exclaimed, his eyes immediately falling on the silver-haired boy on the dragon's back.

"Father, I'm here!"

Aemond smiled and waved his arms excitedly.

It had been more than a month since he left the Red Keep, and he was finally able to see his father. "Roar..."

The Sheepstealer's pupils dilated, his bad intentions quickly subsided, and then he stopped mid-air.

The smile suddenly stopped.

Aemond lost his balance and fell forward, his freckled face slamming into the dry, scaly surface.

When he looked up again, a string of blood ran from his nose.

"Oh, seven levels of hell!"

Viserys had never seen anything like it, and his heart ached.

"Sheepstealer, that's too much!"

Aemond shouted, expertly wiping away the blood.

Seeing that his third son still had the strength to yell, Viserys let out a sigh of relief and joked, "This is a dragon with a mind of its own, as unique as its ugliness."

This was not a taunt.

Aemond had survived the Stormlands, and the mud dragon had protected him well.

Soon, the Sheepstealer landed slowly and bellowed at the wary Cargyll brothers.

"Your Grace, be careful!"

Erryk gripped the hilt of his sword and positioned himself between the king and the danger.

"Don't worry, Kingsguard."

Aemond jumped off the dragon's back and cocked his head to the side. "He's just hungry. Give him two goats, and he'll be fine."

"Roar..."

The Sheepstealer's eyes lit up, and it twisted its long neck back and forth, sniffing the air.

It smelled like a goat that had been rotten for days.

It had to be said, it had a keen sense of smell.

Outside the city, there was a mountain of dead cattle and sheep, which the Vermithor'sDragonfire had burned away.

"My child, come and let your father take a good look."

Viserys hugged Aemond as he approached and then looked him over, pleased. "You've grown strong. You look  like your brother when he was just a boy."

He pinched his arm, and it felt a little muscular and strong.

Aemond lowered his head shyly and stole a longing glance at his father.

It had been a long time since he had heard his father praise him.

He longed for his parents' attention.

"Let's go back to the castle. I'll tell the chef to cook you a special welcome dinner."

Viserys put his arm around his son's shoulders and teased him, "But you have to ignore the taste. After all, he's a cook in the army, and the bread is so hard that it can crack your head."

"Heh."

Aemond just giggled and obediently followed.

He had rushed to his father after finishing off the remnants of the Stormlands.

The father and son walked quickly ahead, with the Cargyll brothers following behind.

Erryk and Arryk exchanged a glance, and the latter said, "Since it's a welcome banquet for the Prince, I'll go inform Ser Cole and step up patrols tonight."

"Good."

Erryk had the same idea and said, "I'll protect the king. Watch out for the kitchen and the well."

The people of Dorne are skilled in poisoning and murder, so they must be doubly careful in this strange castle.

The brothers understood each other and each went his own way.

...

With Aemond's arrival, the somber atmosphere of Yronwood was shattered.

The soldiers were busier than ever, not daring to let their guard down for a moment.

Soon night had fallen.

The tower was lit, the warm glow of the torches casting long shadows.

In the spacious hall, Viserys and Aemond dined together, the clatter of cutlery mingling with their subdued conversation.

Outside, soldiers patrolled diligently, and the torches flickered in the evening breeze.

Everything seemed normal, with the gentle wind whispering through the courtyard.

However, under the cover of darkness, shadows moved stealthily.

In the kitchen, the cellar, the stables, and even the dry well—subtle sounds could be heard.

First, the kitchen.

The kitchen, typically locked after dinner, was now a place of unexpected activity.

Bang! Bang! The muffled sounds grew louder, disturbing the quiet of the night.

The noise didn't come from the walls or floor but from beneath the earthen-brick stove.

Bang!

A final, louder bang sent ashes flying from the stove, scattering over the flour sacks.

An axe appeared in the dark hearth, its blade gleaming ominously.

With a few sharp blows, the hearth was breached, and a Dorne man wearing a scarf emerged from the darkness.

More figures followed, breaking the door lock and slipping out of the house with predatory smiles.

Similar scenes played out in other hidden corners.

The lights flickered, casting eerie shadows as venomous snakes revealed their fangs.

It was late at night.

Viserys, delighted by his son's presence, had drunk heavily. Aemond, too, had taken a few sips, choking and coughing, which made his fatherlaugh heartily.

"Father, let me help you back to bed," Aemond suggested sweetly, enjoying the rare warmth of being alone with his father.

"Good, I'm sleepy too," Viserys replied, swaying unsteadily as he got up.

Aemond, though younger, struggled to support his father, who was noticeably heavier.

"Go and help," Erryk called to the guards in the hall, sensing the need for assistance.

In an instant.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Several arrows flew straight at Viserys and Aemond.

Pop!

The guards arrived just in time, shielding the king and his son with their bodies. They took the arrows in their backs, bleeding to death on the spot.

"Assassins!" Erryk shouted, horrified, drawing his sword with a swift motion.

Aemond looked up in panic. At the top of the stairs, a dozen Dorne men in brown leather armor stood with crossbows, their faces filled with murderous intent.

"Protect Father, retreat quickly!" Aemond yelled, his heart racing. He pulled his father back, the instincts honed in the Stormlands kicking in.

Outside the tower, chaotic shouts filled the air.

"Fire!"

"The barn is on fire! Come quickly!"

(Word count: 2,003)