The words were simple, yet their articulation conveyed an unyielding cold determination.
"Dragon's Wroth!?"
Rhaenys was stunned and instinctively reached for Dark Sister. Helaena quickly lowered her head, haunted by visions of bloodshed.
Dragon's Wroth!
It wasn't just a phrase or a description of a normal event. It harkened back to the First War of Dorne when Queen Rhaenys fell at Hellholt. In their grief, the Conqueror and Queen Visenya unleashed a brutal and inhumane massacre. Riding Balerion and Vhagar, they attacked all of Dorne without warning, burning every castle and village.
Any resistance was reduced to ashes by the Dragonfire. Whether inhabited or not, all farmland, wells, and oases were destroyed. This Dragon's Wroth lasted for two whole years, leaving not a single castle standing in Dorne, nor a single piece of arable land. The death toll was incalculable.
"The Dornish dared to assassinate my father. They wanted the Dragon's Wroth, and they will get it," Rhaegar declared, his eyes as sharp as a hawk's. "Let the world see the glory of ancient Valyria."
"Dragon's Wroth," Daemon repeated, his eyes showing interest, his mouth curling into a smile. "If they want my brother's life, they'll have to pay with more lives."
An eye for an eye, a life for a life. This suited Daemon's tough personality perfectly. Rhaegar glanced at him but said nothing.
"Daemon, you should stop for now," Rhaenys whispered a rebuke, her eyes fixed on her unusually calm nephew. "Rhaegar, the war in Dorne is to put down a rebellion. Don't forget the original purpose of the war!"
The root of all evil was Qoren's selfishness. He had already been punished, and the war should not be allowed to continue unnecessarily.
Rhaegar replied calmly, "Aunt, the war has been going on for months. Do you still remember why it started?"
"Of course," Rhaenys responded immediately. "The Smoking Sea Wild Dragon, Morghul!"
The cause of the war wasn't Braavos, Dorne, or Rhaegar and Daemon trying to invade. It was Lys, who captured Morghul, and the Triarchy making a comeback.
"Then why did the Triarchy fall, and why did the battlefield expand to Dorne?" Rhaegar continued.
Rhaenys hesitated, "Qoren was afraid of the Targaryen expansion of power. He had always had close ties with Braavos and the Triarchy."
It was said that Aliandra, who was burned to death by Dreamfyre, had been betrothed to the son of the Sealord of Braavos.
"No," Rhaegar shook his head, smiling. "Human desires are like rolling stones. Once they start, they can't be stopped."
"Whether it's the Triarchy, the Sealord of Braavos, or Qoren, they all covet the power of House Targaryen and seek to suppress and annihilate the last remaining Dragonlord family."
"The Triarchy coveted Morghul, Braavos hid dragon eggs, and Qoren took advantage of the situation to invade the Stormlands and The Reach," Rhaegar explained. "They are like vultures circling over the Targaryens, waiting for themoment when the dragons are weak."
Daemon clapped lightly, approving. DespiteRhaegar's lengthy explanation, Daemon supported the idea of ruthlessly eliminating their enemies.
Rhaenys glared at Daemon and sighed helplessly. "The Conqueror unleashed the Dragon's Wroth but failed to conquer Dorne, sowing hatred for generations. The Iron Throne wants to rule, not govern a territory of ashes."
In short, she did not approve of another Dragon's Wroth. Such an act would drag the kingdom into a swamp of war, with enough lives already lost.
Rhaegar's resolve remained firm. "War can bring peace. Hatred exists only because we are not strong enough," he stated, standing up and looking directly into his aunt's eyes. "Don't forget, Laenor died in this war. How can I honor his memory and all the soldiers who died?"
"My son," Rhaenys's hand trembled as she gripped her sword, her sore spot struck. She couldn't accept her son's death and harbored hatred for Dorne. However, with the war already moved to Dorne, she knew it shouldn't be expanded further.
Rhaegar walked to the window and looked at the dragons circling over Yronwood. "The Conquerors had only three dragons, but we have many more," he said.
The three others in the room watched himintently.
Rhaegar's expression grew stern, and he spoke quickly: "We have Cannibal, Dreamfyre, Caraxes, Meleys, Sheepstealer, and Sunfyre—six dragons in all."
He continued, "We also have Seasmoke, who has lost his rider, Vermithor, who was driven back to Dragonstone, and even Vhagar, who patrols The Gullet."
"In Dorne, we have far more dragons at our disposal than the Conquerors did. The first six dragons have all experienced battle."
He finished in one breath, assessing their strength. In the Conqueror's era, Balerion was only slightly older than the Cannibal, and Vhagar and Meraxes were comparable to the current Caraxes and the other dragons. With the Cannibal leading the way and Dreamfyre almost reaching adulthood, the three prime-aged dragons, including Sheepstealer, were already stronger than the original three.
Daemon's eyes shone with excitement, eager to start the battle. Rhaenys hesitated, weighing the pros and cons.
Knock, knock!
The door opened, and Cole entered, looking grim as he handed over a letter. "A Blackhaven letter," he said.
"Open it," Rhaegar nodded.
Cole tore open the envelope and read quickly. "The garrison at Blackhaven, numbering 1,000 men, was attacked by the House Wyl at night. The castle suffered heavy losses, with only one in ten soldiers surviving."
"What about Lord Symon?" Rhaegar asked.
Cole turned the page, his expression softening slightly. "Lord Simon was besieged by the enemy who invaded the castle, but the guards arrived in time. Lord Simon personally killed two men from Dorne."
An old man, who normally had difficulty walking, proved more powerful than a young man when fighting for his life.
Hearing this, Rhaegar shook his head and laughed. Yronwood had been ambushed, and Blackhaven's garrison was depleted, making an attack inevitable. It was a relief that Lord Simon managed to hold them off.
After signaling Cole to leave, Rhaegar turned to Rhaenys again and said bluntly, "Aunt, what is there to hesitate about?"
The king was almost killed in Yronwood. Blackhaven, which guards the Boneway, almost fell. You are kind-hearted, but the people of Dorne only want to see you dead.
Rhaenys understood the stakes. She took a deep breath and said, "You're right. Human desires are like rolling rocks. We have no choice!"
Rhaegar smiled.
Helaena stood up clumsily, put her arms around his, and whispered, "I'll help you."
"Haha," Daemon laughed, but his eyes were cold and full of vengeance.
Dorne, prepare to face the Dragon's Wroth.
...
Time flew by, and a week later, Vermithor, temporarily without a rider, returned to Dragonstone to hibernate. Viserys, still in a coma, was escorted back to King's Landing. The Cargyll brothers also departed, leaving Cole behind to continue leading the troops.
Donald led 15,000 Riverrun forces to Yronwood, took control of the town, and sealed off the Boneway. Everything was proceeding in an orderly manner.
Sunspear.
"Roar..."
Under the blue sky, six dragons of varying sizes spread their wings and soared, spewing dragonfire hotter than the scorching summer heat.
On the west side of the old palace, in the densely populated Shadow City, more than 10,000 Dornish civilians gathered. Their eyes were filled with resentment as they cowered in the dirty, poorly lit shadow area.
In the midst of all the attention, a platform more than ten feet high had been built. An iron cage and dozens of spears adorned the stage. The spears were stuck into the eyes of the dead, and a naked, armless man was locked in the iron cage. It was Harmen Uller.
Harmen had lost an arm in the dragonfire, and half of his body was badly burned. After a week of captivity, his eyes were glazed, and he was curled up on his side, huddled in the narrow confines of the cage like a dog. The cage was suspended from a gallows, ensuring that all the people of Dorne could see him.
Daemon stood on a high platform, signaling for the cage to be lowered. Soldiers dragged Harmen Uller out like a dead dog.
"No! No!" Harmen screamed, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "I'm innocent! I'm innocent!"
His gray eyes involuntarily glanced at the heads impaled on the spears. Many of them had gray pupils, and all bore hideous, blood-stained features.
"Be good!" The soldiers punched and kicked him, pulling his hair and dragging him.
Daemon looked down at the man who had almost killed his brother, forcing him to look at the heads on the spears. He smiled and said, "Take a good look. Your sons, your family, the old and the weak of House Uller—they're all watching you."
House Uller was almost completely wiped out. Only Harmen Uller remained.
Harmen shook his head, his fat jiggling. "I'm innocent! I want to slay the dragon..." he shouted deliriously. He still saw himself as a dragon slayer reviving his ancestors' glory. Those who were tortured and killed in front of him couldn't be his children and house members. No, definitely not...
"Don't waste your breath. He's already dead," Rhaegar said, stepping onto the platform with murderous intent in his eyes.
The soldiers saluted, and Harmen Uller was dragged up to the gallows, a rope around his neck. Daemon watched with bored indifference.
Rhaegar was joined on stage by Mors of Kingsgrave and Qyle Martell, the five-year-old son of the late Prince of Dorne.
Rhaegar looked down at the commoners of Dorne and announced that Qyle would be named the new Prince of Dorne in the name of the Iron Throne, with House Martell bowing to the Iron Throne. Mors was appointed Regent of Sunspear, the Desert Warden throughout Dorne and the Prince's Pass Warden in the Red Mountains.
From now on, Dorne would be formally under Targaryen rule.
Rhaegar crossed his arms. "It's your turn," he said.
Qyle's face froze. He walked slowly to the front of the stage, trembling. "In the name of the Prince of Dorne, I declare that the rebellion in Dorne is over. Any nobles or commoners who disobey will be surrounded and suppressed throughout the territory," he proclaimed.
Mors, embracing his role as a "loyal subject," raised the spear symbolizing House Martell and shouted for peace. The Dornish commoners remained silent, dazed by the scene. Especially young Qyle. They still wished to fight to the death, wondering why their prince surrendered first.
Rhaegar remained calm, knowing the consequences of this decision. House Martell had ruled Dorne for a thousand years and had deep roots. Dorne was doomed to lose to the Targaryens, especially after Sunspear, the seat of House Martell, fell into the hands of the Iron Throne.
Despite resistance, the Dornish nobles and commoners would eventually surrender, if not out of fear, then in the name of survival.
Qyle and Mors stepped back at Rhaegar's signal.
Aemond, now bearing the nickname "One-Eyed," presented Rhaegar with a hammer and a silver dagger. The dagger had been named the One-Eyed Dagger, a constant reminder of the hard-won battle.
Rhaegar took the hammer and dagger andapproached the hanging Harmen Uller.
"No! No..." Harmen's terrified cries echoed as Rhaegar swung the hammer high and brought it down hard on his chest.
Pop! The entire chest cavity shattered, bones caving in, and the blow nearly pierced through him. The hammerhead became embedded in the bone, making it impossible to pull out.
"Ho ho..." Harmen's face turned black and blue, blood oozing from his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. He gasped for breath, his trachea blowing up the broken lungs, creating a series of blood blisters on his chest.
"The House Uller is finished. I warned you," Rhaegar said calmly, wiping his hands without any sign of excitement from avenging his family. He then pulled out the One-Eyed Dagger and cut the rope holding the gallows.
Plop! Harmen fell with a thud, the rope around his neck tightening, cutting off his breath. In a desperate flash, his legs kicked violently. After a dozen seconds, he fell still.
Rhaegar watched the entire scene, maintaining his composure throughout.
Hum... The One-Eyed Dagger glowed faintly, and a loud dragon roar seemed to emanate from within. Then, a bright light shot out, splitting into two and landing in the palms of Rhaegar and Aemond. Rhaegar noticed the phenomenon, but no one else did. When he raised his hand, there was no visible pattern, but his blood flow seemed to increase slightly, as if it had become more sensitive to the scent of a dragon.
Rhaegar nodded to himself, tossed the dagger back to Aemond, and turned away from the Dornish civilians who had witnessed the execution. Without looking back, he declared, "The Dornish nobles have rebelled. Accept the request of Prince Qyle and suppress the rebellion throughout the territory!"
As soon as he finished speaking, the six dragons raised their heads and roared, their fangs bared as they danced in the sky.
(Word count: 2,162)