Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 449: The Red Queen and the Blood Wyrm

From the center of the courtyard, a torrent of green Dragonfire erupted, spreading in all directions.

A large number of Dorne soldiers glanced up to see a flash of green light before being reduced to cinders in an instant.

At the tower gate, Dragonfire rained down, consuming the dozens of masked men attempting to slay Sheepstealer. The dragon, with his tail caught in the fire, reacted violently.

"Roar!"

A loud, shrill cry echoed as Sheepstealer, fueled by pain, pulled with desperate strength.

"Sheepstealer!" Aemond shouted in terror, fearing for his dragon.

Sheepstealer's pupils dilated with agony, and it slammed its head against the wall with tremendous force.

Crack!

The thick wall crumbled under the impact, stones shattering. Sheepstealer quickly freed its head, screeching in pain as it crawled out, its wings aiding his frantic movements. He smothered the flames on its tail and raised its head in fury, searching for the source his torment.

Its eyes widened in anger as he met the gaze of another dragon with green pupils.

"Roar!"

Under the bright moon, the Cannibal hovered in the air, its grotesque head surveying the castle. Sheepstealer, seeing the abyssal green eyes of the Cannibal, recognized the greed, cunning, and tyranny they held.

"Roar..."

Sheepstealer immediately ceased the attack, focusing its rage on the courtyard's remaining enemies. It opened his mouth and unleashed a torrent of Dragonfire, determined to rescue its master by incinerating the intruders.

With a thunderous crash, the Cannibal landed in the front yard, dragon saliva dripping from its maw. Rhaegar glanced at the scene and leapt off its back, perfectly in sync with his dragon.

"Prince, Your Grace is in the tower," Arryk called out, staggering forward in his blood-stained armor.

In the courtyard, the two dragons wreaked havoc, their green and brown flames shooting high into the sky. Dorne soldiers were slaughtered like hatchlings, crushed under the dragons' might.

Rhaegar, his face grim, walked through the flames and screams, heading for the tower as if he were alone in the world. A mountain of rubble lay before the tower, charred corpses strewn about.

Among the debris, Harmen writhed and screamed, engulfed in green fire. Rhaegar noticed the family crest on his chest, a cold light flashing in his eyes. He stepped over the gate and entered the hall.

Inside, the hall was a chaotic mess, the strong smell of burning filling the air.

At first glance, Rhaegar saw his father unconscious in Erryk's arms, and his anger flared. He stepped forward quickly and shouted, "Father!"

Turning to Erryk, he asked, "What happened? The castle was almost taken by the Dornish."

He had come to Yronwood without rest after the capture of Sunspear, fearing for his father's safety with Blackhaven's inadequate forces. But the Dornish had been so desperate that they had even plotted to kill the king.

Erryk, ashamed and weak, explained, "There is a secret passage in the city. If it weren't for Prince Aemond, Your Grace would have been in grave danger."

The timing of the Dornish attack was too precise. Arryk led the patrol while Cole guarded the city gates. They set fires to distract and weaken the defenses, then seized the opportunity to strike. No one had expected such a bold assassination attempt.

d expected such a bold assassination attempt.

Rhaegar, furious, gently touched his father's wounds and used his Serpent Rune to heal him. Sunspear had just been breached, and news of Qoren's death had not yet spread. Yet the Dornish had dared to openly assassinate the king.

Lawless!

Rhaegar was relieved to find no other wounds on his father and suddenly thought of Aemond. He turned to see Aemond standing alone at the edge of the ruins, gazing anxiously in their direction. One eye averted in guilt, the other... freёwebnoѵel.com

Rhaegar was momentarily stunned. A vertical bloodstain ran down Aemond's freckled face from his left eye to his chin. The eye was tightly shut, and the wound exposed soft flesh, blood flowing over his face. Aemond was trembling with pain and sadness.

"Aemond!"

Rhaegar's expression shifted, nearly losing focus on his healing spell. Aemond, like a lost child finding solace, met Rhaegar's gaze with his right eye and whispered, "I didn't run away. I stood in front of Father."

His voice was soft but filled with strong emotion. Rhaegar's heart tightened, realizing what his father and brother had endured. His lips trembled, "Come, come to me."

"Brother!" Tears welled in Aemond's right eye as he threw himself into Rhaegar's arms.

Rhaegar forced a smile, embracing his brave brother. The hall was filled with corpses. Erryk, covered in blood, seemed on the brink of death. Aemond's back was blistered, and he had lost his left eye to protect their father, who was miraculously unscathed.

"Sss!"

Aemond's movement tore at his left eye and back, making him cry out in agony. The pain, suppressed until now, surged through his body as he saw Rhaegar.

"Good boy," Rhaegar murmured, rubbing his head and resting his chin on Aemond's shoulder. "Aemond, from tonight on, you are a real man."

In front of everyone, he had dared to protect his family, embodying the true spirit of a Targaryen.

"Mmm," Aemond choked.

At that moment, the unconscious Viserys frowned and muttered, "Aemond... Rhaegar... help him... Aemond... my son..." His body convulsed.

"Father, I'm here," Rhaegar soothed, using the Serpent Rune to swallow the black gas causing his father’s pain.

Viserys, though not a perfect man, had shown great bravery by leading the dragons to Dorne. Now, weakened and injured, he was uncertain to survive. Gradually, Viserys calmed at his eldest son's voice, slipping back into sleep.

Rhaegar patted Aemond's back, then turned to the seriously injured Erryk, saying, "Hang in there."

After ensuring his father's safety, he would attend to the others.

...

Outside the tower, the malevolent Sheepstealer wreaked havoc on the Dorne soldiers, thrashing them in a vengeful frenzy. Its impenetrable scales shrugged off even the sharpest swords and axes, rendering them useless.

Attempts to strike its eyes were futile; the dragon's head towered over ten meters high, far beyond the soldiers' reach. The Dorne soldiers were mere ants beneath the dragon's claws, their screams and curses swallowed by the chaos as they were crushed to pulp.

"Roar!"

The Cannibal unleashed a torrent of Dragonfire, casting a greenish glow over most of the courtyard. Its colossal body, as tall as a tower, smashed into the wall with such force that the stone crumbled.

Roar!

A furious roar echoed from outside the castle. The Cannibal slowly turned its head, green pupils slicing through the night and reflecting the fierce golden flames.

Hoo-hoo!

After a glance at the courtyard, now an inferno of carnage, the Cannibal took flight, leaving the scene behind. The rider's thoughts calmed the enraged dragon, guiding it away from the devastation.

...

Fires raged in the city, filling the night sky with smoke. Some of the fires were man-made, but most were the result of the dragons' fiery breath.

"Don't fall behind! Kill all the Dornish bastards!" Cole ordered, leading his soldiers into battle against the invaders.

The Dornish were numerous, scattered throughout the key areas of the city. Fortunately, the city's defenders had regained their composure and were rallying to the main force.

"Do not linger! Archers, prepare!" A voice shouted from above, in a brick and stone building.

Cole looked up in alarm. It was a three-story brothel, now occupied by Dornish men armed with crossbows.

"Take cover! Hurry!" Cole shouted, killing an opponent and running with his hands over his head. He was a skilled and strong fighter, but he couldn't save everyone. Hundreds of soldiers were shot and killed in a sudden ambush.

"Roar!"

A piercing roar echoed in the distance.

"Dracarys!" A cold female voice filled with rage rang out.

A scarlet dragon flashed past, unleashing red Dragonfire on the brothel. The Dornish men had no time to react as the Dragonfire scorched them.

"Roar!" The scarlet dragon swooped down again, its fiery breath slicing through the brothel's walls, breaking windows, and setting the entire building ablaze.

Roar...

Another dragon roar echoed, and a pale blue dragon flew in from afar. Helaena anxiously surveyed the burning town below.

She saw the scarlet dragon approaching, its neck outstretched, revealing its rider. Rhaenys's expression was cold but softened slightly upon seeing her long-lost niece.

"I just saw Rhaegar riding over there," Rhaenys said.

Without waiting for a response, she rode her dragon into the fray.

Helaena, stunned, finally gave the order. "Dreamfyre, burn the Dornish along the way."

...

In the endless desert, under the cover of night, a disheveled Dorne army of several hundred men fled in chaos. Olyvar Yronwood, his face blackened with soot, led the way, stumbling forward. Behind them, the city of Yronwood was ablaze, dragons circling overhead.

He had to run. The moment he entered the castle, a Bronze Dragon had attacked, nearly incinerating him on the spot. He had tried to assassinate a Targaryen, but now he couldn't even hold his ancestral home.

For now, he had to flee, contemplating a route south to Sunspear or north to the Boneway. As for Harmen Uller, that madman? Their families had been feuding for generations, each wishing the other dead.

Suddenly, Olyvar sensed something was wrong. He stopped abruptly, causing the soldiers behind him to halt. His adjutant approached, asking a question.

Olyvar's face grew tense as he sniffed the air. His acute sense of smell detected something unusual.

Boom!

In the distance, the heavy thud of something massive hitting the ground echoed. Olyvar stiffened, eyes wide with fear. In the darkness, a colossal figure moved, resembling a snake.

"Roar..." A shrill, piercing sound filled the air, penetrating eardrums like a sonic wave. Then, out of nowhere, red flames ignited.

A monstrous, blood-red creature with a snake-like body appeared, its cruel pupils glinting as it crawled forward. Olyvar's spine tingled with terror as he recognized the silver-haired figure on the dragon's back.

Daemon looked down on the fleeing soldiers with disdain, speaking in High Valyrian, the new language he had mastered: "Burn them all"

Caraxes obeyed without hesitation, unleashing a torrent of scarlet Dragonfire.

In the desert, a blaze erupted, and the screams of the Dornishmen were swiftly silenced, leaving only the snorting of the Blood Wyrm.

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