Chapter 423: Dorn’s Reckoning
"Ancient Valyria's strength lingers on."
Rhaegar sighed with admiration as he loosened the dragon taming whip's hold on Sea Smoke.
"Roar..."
Sea Smoke shook its head and gasped deeply, the whip's strangling grip nearly suffocating it.
"Sea Smoke, I won't stop you from searching for Laenor, but you're not allowed to go around attacking anymore."
Rhaegar wrapped the dragon taming whip around his arm and walked fearlessly towards the dragon. Sea Smoke's vertical pupils were filled with confusion as it continued to gasp for air.
Rhaegar held out his hand, palm facing the dragon's muzzle. He understood the bond between dragon and rider, and he didn't want to force Sea Smoke back to Dragonstone Island, but he had to stop it from causing more damage.
"Roar..."
Sea Smoke seemed to understand, stretching its head forward despite its neck and spine being clamped down by Cannibal's dark, sharp claws. Cannibal glanced down, revealing its interlocking fangs.
Despite both being dragons, the size difference was staggering. Cannibal's massive wings could easily envelop Sea Smoke, making the younger dragon seem unusually small by comparison—only about a quarter of Cannibal's size.
Rhaegar looked at his Great Evil Dragon and smiled helplessly. "Cannibal, let go of it."
His dragon blood granted him an extra ability: sensing a dragon's emotions. Earlier, his blood had burned hot, representing Sea Smoke's intense hostility. Now, with the blood flowing normally, he sensed no immediate danger.
"Roar-"
Cannibal growled a warning but moved its thick, sharp claws away. Sea Smoke twisted its body and retracted its spread wings.
"Sea Smoke, give me an answer."
Rhaegar's tone was firm. Sea Smoke's vertical pupils flashed with struggle, but after a brief hesitation, it approached, touching its light silver scales to the boy's outstretched palm.
Rhaegar's eyes burned as he rubbed Sea Smoke's muzzle, feeling the cold, smooth texture of its scales, so different from Cannibal's rougher hide.
"Good, obey."
"Roar...."
Sea Smoke roared softly, its body relaxing as it slowly climbed to its feet.
Rhaegar gazed at Sea Smoke, a flash of pity in his eyes.
It was highly likely that Laenor had met an untimely end.
All the current Targaryens controlled a dragon, and his child was yet to be born. Otherwise, he might have attempted to tame Sea Smoke, potentially weakening the House Velaryon in the process.
Rhaegar's mind raced with thoughts. According to intelligence, Laenor was probably killed by his current lover, Cole. This theory was supported by Cole's disappearance and the discovery of Laenor's former lover, Joffrey, hidden in the barracks. As for Corlys, the Sea Snake...
"With Laenor gone, the Sea Snake is without an heir," Rhaegar mused with mixed feelings.
Sea Snake and Aunt Rhaenys were too old, and their granddaughters were almost grown, making it impossible for them to have another child. The Velaryon House had some branches, but with Sea Snake's power-hungry personality, he wouldn't willingly give up control.
"Heh, a generation that fights for power and has no successors," Rhaegar laughed darkly.
"Roar..."
Sea Smoke arched its head, staring warily at the black dragon, then turned and lifted its wings to take off. Cannibal's green vertical pupils flinched as its wide wings spread out.
"Cannibal, let it go."
Rhaegar watched the light silver dragon's figure and spoke out to stop it.
Sea Smoke wouldn't leave the Westeros continent. If it couldn't find Laenor, it would naturally return to Driftmark Island or Dragonstone Island. It just so happened that Jeyne was pregnant, and the two young dragons, Stormcloud and Tyraxes, were not enough to share. Sea Smoke was also an option.
As the dragon's shadow disappeared into the sky, Rhaegar mounted Cannibal and said, "Cannibal, fly!"
"Roar--"
Cannibal rose into the air, soaring westward along the Rainwood.
...
Stonehelm
The gray walls of Stonehelm bore the scars of relentless bombardment, marked by the devastating impact of rolling stones and giant crossbows. Steel spears jutted out from the battlements, lodged deep and immovable.
Atop the towering tower, a new flag bearing the "Black Gate" insignia flapped in the wind, having replaced the "Black and White Swan" banner of House Swann.
"Roar!"
A powerful dragon roar echoed across the landscape, a mud-colored dragon casting a massive shadow as it circled overhead.
"Dracarys!"
The silver-haired Aemond rode upon the dragon's back, a gleeful grin spread across his face as they dove towards the city.
Sheepstealer's chaotic vertical pupils gleamed as it plummeted downward, unleashing a torrent of Dragonfire, its flames speckled with mud and debris.
"Dodge! The dragon is coming!"
"Load the Scorpion Crossbows!"
Panic seized the Dornish soldiers on the city walls, their voices rising in terror.
Boom--
Dragonfire swept across the ground, igniting the walls and sending screams into the air as brown flames licked up the stones.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Several powerful scorpion crossbows on the battlements fired their steel-tipped bolts.
"Roar..."
Sheepstealer shrieked, deftly dodging the incoming projectiles with a powerful flap of its wings.
Aemond's eyes sparkled with excitement as he commanded, "Sheepstealer, burn them all!"
The dragon snorted and soared over the city, unleashing another burst of Dragonfire, targeting a new position each time.
Grinning, Aemond looked down at the chaos below, watching the Dornish soldiers scatter.
Upon hearing of House Swann's downfall, he had come swiftly, riding the fierce Sheepstealer and leading two thousand storm warriors.
His smile unwavering, Aemond drew a three-foot-long keeled horn from his back, took a deep breath, and blew it with all his might.
Wooooo~
The solemn sound of the horn cut through the din of battle, its call reaching every corner of the besieged city.
"Charge!"
At the sound, the Storm Knights surged forward, brandishing thick shields as they sprinted towards Stonehelm.
The Dornish defenders, doubly nervous, fired back through the arrow slits with Myr's specialized triple-shot crossbows.
Behind the walls, a dozen stone throwers stood ready, loaded with heavy stones to hurl down upon the attackers.
Boom! Boom!
Rolling stones crashed into the path of the storm knights, causing significant casualties instantly.
"No retreat! Keep charging!"
The commander shouted at the top of his lungs, holding his giant shield high and leading the charge.
Encouraged by his example, the warriors surged forward, braving the rolling stones and crossbow bolts raining down from the walls.
Throughout history, the attacking side had to outnumber the defending side or face certain death. Yet, they continued with courage and determination.
Unconsciously, they glanced up and saw the rotting, mud-colored dragon hovering above, bombarding the city walls again and again.
It was Sheepstealer's presence that imbued the Storm Knights with an unyielding spirit. The Targaryen princes led the way on the battlefield, and the firepower of a full-grown dragon made the assault more manageable.
"Roar!"
Sheepstealer shifted to avoid a scorpion crossbow attack and retaliated with a blast of Dragonfire.
Aemond's face beamed with pride, showing no signs of fear or surprise.
His brother had taught him the art of war: use dragon firepower for suppression, then send in the troops to break through, even when outnumbered. Aemond had absorbed this lesson well.
Inside the inner wall, Olyvar Yronwood's expression darkened. He barked orders, "Archers, move out! Coordinate with the scorpion crossbows to bring down the dragon!"
"Yes, my lord."
The adjutant replied and relayed the command.
Soon, a group of well-equipped archers appeared at various high points around Stonehelm. At the signal, they unleashed a rain of arrows.
"Roar!"
Sheepstealer spewed Dragonfire before quickly disengaging from the low-altitude combat. The Dragonfire's range was limited, necessitating a dive with each attack.
Though the iron arrows couldn't penetrate Sheepstealer's scales, they managed to harass and distract it.
Sheepstealer's deep brown pupils flashed with curiosity as it glanced around. While the arrows didn't break its defenses, they still caused some discomfort.
"Sheepstealer, Dracarys!"
Aemond dropped his keeled horn and urged the dragon on with a slap to its back.
Sheepstealer grunted and reluctantly swooped down.
Aemond, not one to be gentle, commanded, "Aim at the archers!"
"Roar!"
Sheepstealer hissed and glided sideways over a row of archers hiding behind the women's wall, unleashing a torrent of Dragonfire.
Boom-
"Help, I'm on fire!"
"Run..."
Dozens of archers screamed in agony, some burning to death instantly, while others ran around like headless chickens. One unfortunate archer, in his panic, fell off the city wall, meeting a grisly end on the ground below.
At the base of the wall, Storm Knights formed a protective shield wall as they pushed a siege wagon toward the city gate. The wall, riddled with shooting holes, allowed for crossbow bolts to be fired through the gaps, hitting the warriors with deadly precision. Many fell, unable to shield their vital areas from the assault.
Rumble...
Without siege ladders, the Storm Knights resorted to brute force, sacrificing lives to break through the city gates.
Olyvar Yronwood, watching the coordination between the dragon and the army, grew increasingly concerned. "Bring out the old and weak of House Swann!" he ordered, his voice filled with urgency.
The situation was dire, and the city seemed likely to fall. Olyvar hoped the Targaryen boy would be reckless enough to do something that would make him infamous across the continent.
Though his expression was grim, Olyvar remained calm inside. The invasion of the Stormlands was part of a larger strategy devised by Prince Qoren. The primary goal was to seize supplies and, if possible, occupy Stonehelm as a valuable foothold. If the city couldn't be held, they could always retreat.
Prince Qoren's real goal was the Prince's Pass and the Boneway, the two seemingly impregnable routes into the Riverlands. Looting the Stormlands was only a prelude to plundering the Reach. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
Dorne was impoverished, and this year's harvest was particularly poor. War was necessary to survive, and it provided an opportunity to gain the support of various hidden allies.
The Iron Throne's control over the Triarchy and the Stepstones Islands meant that Dorne's access to the sea would soon be cut off. With the Targaryen Heir Prince’s ruthless nature, Dorne’s destruction seemed inevitable unless they acted now.
"Roar!"
Above the city walls, Sheepstealer swooped back and forth, targeting the archers hidden in the shadows.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Scorpion crossbows fired repeatedly, trying in vain to intercept the fierce, rotten dragon.
Aemond poked his head out, scanning the chaotic battlefield below, feeling a surge of anxiety. His attack strategy had seemed sound, but numerous issues had arisen. The siege wagons were ineffective, and the Storm Knights couldn’t breach the city gates.
Sheepstealer, while attacking the archers, had to divert his attention to bombard the Dornish soldiers on the walls, spreading his firepower thin. Dornish soldiers retaliated with stones, rolling logs, and flaming oil, inflicting heavy casualties on the Storm Knights.
Aemond's face hardened with frustration as he realized that despite their efforts, the battle was slipping out of control. The Storm Knights fought valiantly, but without breaking through the gates, they were trapped in a deadly stalemate.
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