The Dornish, known for their fearlessness, charged with a ferocity that regular soldiers could not withstand. Cole, locked in battle, fought with increasing desperation, his vision reddened with rage.
"Dornish bastards!" he roared.
Hailing from Blackhaven, Cole's father had served as a steward under the Lord of Dondarrion. Cole had once defended against a Dornish incursion and harbored a deep-seated enmity towards them.
However, the King's soldiers were no match for the relentless Dornish. As more of his companions fell, the Dornish gained the upper hand.
"Roar..."
A scarlet dragon swooped in, its flames scorching the beach and reducing the Dornish to ashes. Cannibal followed closely, its green Dragonfire splitting the battlefield.
"Cannibal, land!" Rhaegar commanded after a moment's thought. The dragonfire carried the risk of collateral damage in the melee.
Cannibal descended, its wings kicking up a storm as it landed, crushing several soldiers under its feet and roaring triumphantly.
"Retreat! Retreat!" The sight of the dragons shattered the morale of the Dornish, and they fled in disarray.
"Pursue!" Cole shouted, his sword dripping with blood as he continued the charge.
"Stop, Cole! Retreat at once!" Rhaegar's voice cut through the confusion. The fleeing Dornish were an easy target for Cannibal's dragonfire, and pursuing them would only lead to more unnecessary bloodshed.
Cole paused, panting heavily, his white robes stained red. He glanced up at Rhaegar, still in a battle trance.
The soldiers stopped their pursuit, rounding up any remaining Dornish who couldn't get away. Most of the enemy fled toward the sea, attempting to evacuate in small boats.
"Dracarys!" Rhaegar ordered. Cannibal unleashed green dragonfire that engulfed the retreating Dornish, leaving none alive.
"Whew! The battle is over," Cole sighed, removing his helmet. His handsome face was etched with exhaustion and relief.
...
Noon
On Bloodstone Island, Sea Snake recovered from his wounds while Vaemond led his soldiers in clearing the battlefield. Laenor patrolled the waters with Sea Smoke, wary of any possible sneak attacks by the Triarchy.
Only then did the fleet arrive from Storm's End. Sixteen ships and two thousand men sailed through the burning green dragonfire of the battlefield and anchored off the coast of Bloodstone.
Rhaenys greeted them in her husband's stead, accompanied by Rhaegar, Laenor, and Tyland.
A small boat pulled up to the beach, and a middle-aged man with black curly hair, fancy clothes, and a bloated figure disembarked, surrounded by a dozen soldiers.
With a stern expression, Rhaenys said in a deep voice, "Cousin, you are late!"
The middle-aged man with a large belly and loud voice replied, "Cousin, Father and I received the news and came immediately to support you."
Rhaegar glanced sideways at Laenor, who quietly informed him, "He is Borros Baratheon, eldest son and heir of Lord Boremund."
Rhaegar frowned and said, "That fool who can't read a word?"
Boremund Baratheon was a brave lord with a history of remarkable deeds, but his son was another matter.
Borros was known more for his temper and his dependence on others than for any skills of his own.
Rhaenys, showing no patience, stepped forward and demanded, "The raven sent a message last night; you should have arrived this morning. Without your delay, my husband would not have faced such a bitter battle."
"Cousin, I came with good intentions. You shouldn't yell at me!" Borros shouted, his face flushing with anger.
"Borros, do you not fear tarnishing the Baratheon name by delaying the battle?" Rhaenys advanced on him, crossing the guard's barrier and grabbing Borros by the collar.
Borros' expression darkened as he glared at Rhaenys, not daring to speak out of turn. She sniffed the air and caught the unmistakable scent of alcohol, immediately understanding the cause of the delay.
"Borros, how dare you drink on the march!" Rhaenys scolded, her face as icy as her tone.
Borros, angry and defensive, shouted, "I've only had a few cups; it has nothing to do with the delay!"
"Shut your stinking mouth!" Rhaenys snapped, her eyes filled with disappointment. "The fleet stays, but you and your guards will return to Storm's End. I will send a raven to inform your father of this!"
Her connection to the Baratheon family ran deep; her mother was a Baratheon, making Borros' father, Boremund, her uncle. Even her hair, mostly black with silver streaks, hinted at her mixed heritage.
She had never expected her cousin Borros to behave so dishonorably in the midst of war.
The Sea Snake had been injured before, and today he had taken an arrow, falling into a coma. As his wife, Rhaenys needed to attend to him, but dealing with Borros' incompetence added to her burden.
With a final glare at Borros, Rhaenys turned to attend to her husband's care.
As they walked along the road, Rhaenys asked Rhaegar, "When will the support from the Riverlands arrive?"
"Tomorrow night at the latest," Rhaegar replied, considering the distance from Blackwater Bay to the Stepstones.
"The fleets from Velaryon, Celtigar, White Harbor, and the Stormlands are already gathered, but the remaining reinforcements need to hurry," Rhaenys sighed. "It's fortunate that the fleets of the Three Daughters and Dorne were decimated this time. We can breathe a little easier."
Over 80 enemy ships had been burned, and thousands of soldiers had perished in the dragonfire, significantly weakening the alliance of the Three Daughters and Dorne. It would be some time before they could threaten the Stepstones again.
Tyland interjected urgently, "Our ships have suffered heavy losses, many are damaged, and we are running low on food and fresh water."
"If the ships are damaged, mobilize the shipwrights to repair them and send people to secure more supplies," Rhaenys replied, too weary to delve into the details of the battle damage.
In recent days, the army had been exhausted, maintaining their hold on Bloodstone Island with relentless patrols and combat.
"I'll take care of it," Rhaegar said. "The Triarchy will not attack again so soon. Laenor can patrol Bloodstone Island while I ride Cannibal to Driftmark to hurry the supplies."
Driftmark, with its many harbors, served as the gateway between Blackwater Bay and the Narrow Sea, making it a crucial supply point during the war.
King's Landing would send supplies to Driftmark, from where they would be transported to Bloodstone Island.
Rhaenys thought it over and nodded. "Good. Then you escort the transport ship."
She needed to remain on Bloodstone Island, and Rhaegar and Cannibal were the fastest means to get to and from Driftmark. Additionally, having a dragon escort the transport ships would save manpower and resources, allowing more supplies to be transported safely.
"I'll leave now, just in case there's any delay," Rhaegar said, accepting the mission without hesitation.
Bloodstone Island was strewn with corpses, and crabs swam in, drawn by the scent of blood. Transporting the wounded and repairing fortifications would keep Tyland busy.
Rhaegar approached Cannibal, who was lying on the beach, gnawing on charred carcasses. Seeing Rhaegar approach, Cannibal spat out half of a corpse in disgust and snorted.
"Let's go, old friend," Rhaegar said, climbing onto the dragon's back and settling into the saddle.
Cannibal roared, flapped its wings, and rose into the air, heading swiftly down the Narrow Sea towards the Gullet.
(Word count: 1,207)