As the confrontation between the opposing forces increased, the intensity of the battle reached its peak.
Knights under their respective banners led the charge, their war cries echoing across the field.
Upon seeing the two banners, Rhaegar immediately recognized the insignia of the largest noble families on the peninsula: House Brune of the Dyre Den and House Crabb of the Whispers.
Though often considered half-wild, these two families maintained a semblance of family honor, especially House Crabb, which boasted a history of prominent members, including former members of the Kingsguard and the Small Council.
Rhaegar couldn't help but wonder about their motives for conflict, given their impoverished state.
"Why would these families fight?" he mused, puzzled by their seemingly incongruous actions.
Preferring not to act impulsively, Rhaegar remained atop the dragon, watching the battle unfold.
In times of war, animosity knows no bounds and cannot be quelled by mere words.
As the melee continued, Rhaegar decided to take the initiative and intervene, attempting to stop the bloodshed and negotiate with the defeated and wounded members of both families.
Despite his efforts, the battle raged on, with combatants on both sides fighting desperately, their screams filling the air.
After half an hour of relentless fighting, fatigue began to take its toll on the combatants.
At that moment, Rhaegar's own forces arrived from the rear, encircling the battlefield at his command.
Asserting his authority, Rhaegar sought to direct and organize the chaotic battle, recognizing the opportunity to learn from the experience despite his youth.
The battle below came to an end, prompting Rhaegar to intervene. He patted the Cannibal's spine gently, signaling him to descend through the clouds.
With a roar, Cannibal let out a long whistle as his colossal form emerged from the clouds, casting a shadow over the battlefield like a dark storm descending upon a city.
The soldiers caught in the melee were thrown into disarray by the sudden appearance of the dragon, and chaos erupted in their ranks without any command from their leaders. Hovering in the sky, Cannibal unleashed a display of green dragon flames without waiting for orders from either side's commanders.
"Dragons! There are no dragons on this peninsula!"
"Run! What kind of monster is that?"
The battlefield was thrown into utter chaos the moment the dragon appeared. Terrified soldiers abandoned their armor and fled, only to be blocked by the wildlings on the outskirts of the battle.
Led by the Crab Claws, the wildling army closed in, screaming and provoking. Seizing the opportunity, Rhaegar led Cannibal into the clearing, drawing the attention of both commanders.
When they saw the figure atop the dragon, its silver-gold hair catching the light, the hearts of both sides skipped a beat. A dragon with a rider was far more manageable than a wild dragon unleashed upon men without restraint.
From the back of his dragon, Rhaegar surveyed the battlefield below and proclaimed in a resounding voice, "I am Rhaegar Targaryen, eldest son of King Viserys I. Where are the knights loyal to the Iron Throne?"
His words reverberated across the field, causing both commanders and their retinues to rush forward and kneel before him, heads bowed, offering their allegiance.
"Greetings, my lord. The Brune House and the Crabb House send you their most sincere greetings," they chanted in unison.
Rhaegar surveyed the commanders and their aides, all clad in iron armor and robes of office, and asked, "The noble families of the peninsula have always maintained their independence. Why did you engage in this private war?"
"Prince, it is the Brunes who have been oppressing us and invading our lands!" the knight of House Crabb replied indignantly.
"Nonsense! It is you, the Crabbs, who have plundered our merchant ships before, yet you refuse to acknowledge it!" the Brune commander shot back, his expression filled with resentment.
Frowning at the heated exchange, Rhaegar tried to determine the cause of the conflict. But as soon as he asked the question, the two sides began a heated argument, drawing their swords and advancing on each other.
As he watched the scene unfold, Rhaegar could not help but feel a sense of frustration. The rough nature of the half-wild families on the peninsula left no room for diplomacy; they were quick to resort to violence to settle their disputes, with no time for reconciliation.
Rhaegar commanded the Cannibal to let out a deafening roar, instantly silencing the battlefield.
With a stern expression, Rhaegar addressed them with clear dissatisfaction, "Summon your lords and pay homage to the king's eldest son! Or bring forth whoever holds authority in their place."
"Yes, Prince..." The two sides dared not delay, their mutual hatred and anger momentarily set aside as they ordered their adjutants to summon their respective lords.
Meanwhile, Rhaegar ordered the remaining troops to gather the bodies of the fallen soldiers.
He then ordered the wildling army to form a defensive perimeter, consolidate their position, and send scouts to the eastern reaches of the peninsula for any remaining wildling tribes.
...
It was near noon when a few swift horses carrying the lords of the two castles reached the open field of the battlefield, where the lingering scent of blood still hung in the air.
Their first sight was the imposing figure of Cannibal, sprawled on the ground like a small mountain.
"Seven above! A Targaryen prince has graced Crackclaw Point with his presence," exclaimed the head of the Crabb family, a tall, elderly man with half-white hair and a stout frame, as he gazed upon the pitch-black dragon.
The peninsula was so desolate that encounters with outsiders were rare. For many years, the sight of a member of the royal family commanding a dragon was almost unheard of.
Ignoring the advice of his guards, the Lord of Whispers, Sam Crabb, quickly dismounted his horse and raced to the dragon.
When he saw the drowsy Rhaegar on the dragon's back, his eyes widened in disbelief.
"To tame such a colossal dragon at such a young age!" he marveled.
Kneeling on one knee with his sword raised in respect, he called out in a strong voice, "I, Sam Crabb, Lord of the Whispers, pay homage to the prince!"
Rhaegar looked down at the old man and remarked, "Lord Sam, it is not customary to offer one's sword in greeting to a prince."
"I am aware of that," Sam replied, breathing heavily. "But when faced with such noble blood and the sight of such a dragon, I can only humbly offer my allegiance. The Crabb House wishes to pledge our allegiance and become your bannermen."
"My ancestor, Ser Clarence Crabb, known as Clarence the Short, was a Knight of the Kingsguard."
"And my uncle, Ser Clement Crabb, was a Knight of the Kingsguard during the reign of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen."
Rhaegar listened intently as Sam recounted his family's history, weaving a tale that stretched back to the days of House Targaryen. But Rhaegar remained perplexed by the fervor of Sam's loyalty.
"I'm only a prince, not heir to the Iron Throne." Rhaegar was even more confused.
Sam's smile held as he continued, "Today, House Crabb has long since distanced itself from House Targaryen. Whether you ascend the Iron Throne is of little consequence to us. All we seek is to pledge our allegiance to you, noble prince, and to see the banner of the Marsh Marigold once again embraced by the glory of the crown."
Rhaegar hesitated, his mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. While House Crabb's allegiance could be of great help, it would also draw unwanted attention.
With a furrowed brow, Rhaegar carefully considered his answer. "Lord Sam, I appreciate your unwavering loyalty, but as a prince without claim to the Iron Throne, I cannot rightfully accept a lord's allegiance."
(Word count: 1,298)