Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 184: Dragons Burning Everything

Striding before the gathered crowd, Rhaegar glanced at the rebels bound to the crosses. They were still alive, only suspended in their torment.

Some wept and begged for mercy, while an elderly man with black and white hair cursed.

Splat... A long whip struck the cursing man, leaving a bloody scar on his flesh.

"Lord Gerold, are you ready?" Rhaegar asked, his face impassive, ignoring the miserable cries of the traitors. These rebels were kept alive for a public execution, to serve as a warning after the Mountain Clans had been dealt with.

"Prince, the soldiers will be ready to leave at dawn," Gerold replied respectfully, lowering his whip.

Rhaegar scanned the area, noting the absence of William Royce, who commanded the current force. "Guard the gate well; I'll be back soon," Rhaegar ordered, his tone serious as he walked out of the Runestone alone.

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Cannibal landed and crept outside the city gates, waiting. The gates opened and Rhaegar walked through with calm determination. In the distance lay the golden form of Syrax, with Rhaenyra, dressed in her dragon rider's armor, perched on her saddle.

Rhaegar mounted Cannibal, and he and Rhaenyra exchanged knowing smiles.

"Roar!"

The Cannibal spread its wings and took off, heading straight for the Mountains of the Moon. Syrax followed closely behind, roaring with excitement.

In the past two days, Syrax had burned down two small castles, and now there was an air of eager anticipation for the next bout of Dragonfire.

...

South of the Mountains of the Moon, in a secluded vale, thousands of Mountain Clans tribe members had gathered and set up camp. Inside a large animal skin tent, a group of men adorned with bone jewelry argued heatedly.

"Two fire-breathing monsters incinerated our tribe's best warriors—over a thousand men!" one shouted.

"My tribe barely escaped. If I hadn't run so fast, I'd be ashes by now," another retorted.

"This so-called alliance is worthless. Those nobles are dead, but we lost almost our entire army!"

The arguments intensified. More than a dozen mountain clans had united, annexing smaller tribes and amassing tens of thousands of warriors.

Yet their attempt to capture Runestone had nearly led to their destruction. The fragile alliance was on the verge of collapse.

Outside the camp, Erryk and his men hid in the woods. Tormund lay in a clearing, his eyes glazed white as he surveyed the camp through the eyes of a white hawk.

"Ser, two groups of reinforcements have arrived," Tormund reported, his pupils returning to normal. He had seen the emblems of the arriving clans: a yellow burning tower and an orange base covered with gravel. They moved quickly toward the camp.

A gust of wind blew through the forest, casting shadows over their hiding place. Looking up, they saw a black dragon hovering above, surveying the camp below.

"Cannibal, Dracarys!" Rhaegar commanded, his voice unwavering. Without hesitation, the Cannibal dove low, green Dragonfire accumulating in its maw before erupting onto the camp.

Boom...

The dragonfire obliterated the arrow towers at the camp's entrance and spread through the screaming masses.

"Monsters! Fire-breathing monsters are attacking us!"

"Run!"

Panic gripped the Mountain Clans as they scattered in fear. Rhaegar, his expression cold as ice, commanded, "Cannibal, leave no one behind!"

The Cannibal roared, his dragonfire consuming tents and warriors alike as he glided back and forth across the camp.

"Roar..."

Syrax arrived, blocking the escape routes of the Mountain Clans. Rhaenyra, perched atop Syrax, her hair tied back and hands gripping the saddle, shouted, "Dracarys!"

In response to her High Valyrian command, Syrax roared and unleashed golden Dragonfire, sweeping over the fleeing clans.

Green and gold Dragonfire turned the mountainside into a tableau of blood and flame.

"Counterattack! Counterattack!" some tribal chiefs shouted, trying to rally their archers. But the dragons flew too high, their scales impervious to the arrows that fell short.

"Where is the witch? Bring her out!" a chief demanded, gripping the leader of the Stone Crow tribe in desperation. The witch, known for her fire magic, had united the clans with her prophecies.

Nearby, a woman in a red robe and ruby necklace, her beautiful face contorted with fear, hid by a campfire. Trembling, she watched the dragons above, urine running down her thighs. She had preached about the Lord of Light and swayed the chiefs with her pyromancy, but now, in the face of real dragons, her magic seemed weak.

"Lord of Light, please give me the strength to withstand the dragonfire," she prayed desperately, kneeling in the dirt, oblivious to her filthy condition.

Boom—

A surge of dragonfire swept through the camp, engulfing the red-robed sorceress. She screamed in agony, clinging to life as the intense heat seared her skin. Her ruby necklace glowed, shielding her for a moment before the flames moved on. Stripped of her robes, she collapsed naked and trembling in the mud.

The scene caught Rhaegar's attention. Rising from his saddle, he looked down in astonishment at the unharmed figure below. The naked woman had survived Cannibal's dragonfire - something he'd only seen once before.

"Is this witchcraft?" Rhaegar muttered, remembering the Flame Witch Erryk had mentioned in his letter.

"Kill! Destroy the Mountain Clans!" he commanded, refocusing on the battle. Armored soldiers rushed into the chaotic camp, sealing the exits and slaughtering the panicked clansmen. Rhaegar resumed his bombardment with Cannibal, intent on destroying the Mountain Clans for at least a century.

Whoosh!

A sharp arrow pierced the sky, hitting Cannibal's ebony scales with a crunch before splintering apart. Rhaegar glanced down and saw a towering figure - a fourteen-foot half-giant with a stern face.

"Another giant descendant," Rhaegar remarked, intrigued by the sight. Giants had once ruled Westeros, driven to near extinction by the First Men. To see a half-giant here, almost as tall as a full-blooded giant, was unexpected.

"Rhaegar, are you alright?" Rhaenyra's voice called out as she descended on Syrax.

"No! Don't burn him, Rhaenyra!" Rhaegar urgently stopped her. The half-giant intrigued him; he envisioned taming it and bringing it back to King's Landing as a formidable guard. What could be more impressive than a half-giant guard?

"Hmph, bad taste," Rhaenyra huffed, rolling her eyes before guiding Syrax away.

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