Boom—
A pillar of golden dragonfire descended, striking the merchant ship.
Aegon, clad in silver armor, wore an arrogant expression as he laughed heartily. "Useless fools! Burn them all!"
"Screeeech—"
Sunfyre raised his head high, his golden body gliding over the sea, delivering an unrivaled strike.
The merchant ship had no scorpion ballistae, and its heavy hull made escape impossible—it was like a fish on the chopping block.
The warships of House Velaryon lowered their rams and, upon closing in, violently smashed through the merchant ship's hull.
"Woooo—"
A solemn war horn sounded as soldiers leaped onto the enemy vessel via the ram, engaging in a one-sided slaughter.
Within moments, the battle was decided.
The merchant ship burned fiercely, and bodies sank into the sea.
The Sea Snake watched with an emotionless face, his deep eyes void of anything but cold indifference.
"My lord, we've captured a Braavosi merchant. He is currently under interrogation," the lieutenant reported sternly.
Feeling the familiar salty sea breeze on his face, the Sea Snake closed his eyes briefly and said in a detached tone, "Be thorough with the questioning."
Dorne and Braavos were in league with one another—every merchant ship was a potential carrier of intelligence.
"Yes, my lord."
"Continue our course toward the Greenblood River."
"As you command."
Once the lieutenant left, the Sea Snake fell into a deep silence.
It had been his mistake—allowing the Dornish soldiers even a moment's respite in the Stormlands.
Had he pursued them relentlessly from the start, driving them to the brink, perhaps Laenor wouldn't have fallen into their trap.
"Screeeech—"
As the last remnants of the merchant ship vanished beneath the waves, Aegon rode Sunfyre ahead, scouting the Greenblood River before the fleet.
The Sea Snake remained impassive, letting Aegon act as he pleased.
Compared to the slain Laenor and the battle-delaying Aemond, Prince Aegon—despite his reckless nature—was actually more reliable.
As these thoughts swirled in his mind, his weary brain gradually drifted into emptiness.
The fleet sailed slowly, cutting through the Summer Sea.
Suddenly, a mist rose over the water, veiling the scorching sun.
The Sea Snake spread his arms, inhaling the salty air he had known his entire life. A nostalgic look flashed across his dark face.
"Screeeech—"
Just then, a melancholic cry pierced through the mist, echoing eerily over the vast ocean.
The Sea Snake's eyes snapped open, searching for the source of the sound.
And then—
A massive, pale silver dragon emerged from the fog, only to vanish moments later.
The Sea Snake stood frozen, his aged eyes turning red, his lips trembling. "Laenor…"
That dragon—it was searching for his son.
The mist obscured his vision, and a deep sorrow welled up inside him, making his breath unsteady.
When he first received word of his son's death, there had been no grief, only rage.
Rage at the enemy's deceit.
Rage at his son's weakness.
Rage at his own miscalculations.
But now, seeing Seasmoke still searching for his rider after all this time—
The Sea Snake felt something deep within him shatter.
His suppressed emotions finally erupted, and his longing for his son became unbearable.
Plop!
A single tear slid down his cheek, breaking against his silver-gray breastplate.
The Sea Snake closed his eyes, then opened them again—his expression once more icy cold.
He buried his grief deep within, allowing it to nourish the seeds of vengeance.
Creak… Creak…
His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked. His eyes burned with murderous intent as he muttered under his breath, "Dorne… Martell… House Velaryon will not forget."
"Screeeech—"
As if answering his vow, a powerful dragon's roar echoed across the sea.
In an instant—
The sea winds howled, and the thick mist was swept away.
The Sea Snake's expression flickered with shock as he stared into the dispersing fog.
A colossal figure stirred the mist, skimming over the ocean before soaring into the sky, then flying southward over the Summer Sea.
The Sea Snake strained his eyes, trying to make out the creature's form.
The fog was too thick—visibility was barely a kilometer. Beyond that, it became impossible to discern.
Within moments, the enormous beast was gone.
He couldn't see its full shape, nor make out the details.
All he knew was that it was unimaginably large—and distinctly dragon-like.
In that brief glimpse, a massive, moss-green claw broke through the clouds.
"Laena?"
The Sea Snake looked around in confusion, thinking it might have been Vhagar.
His gaze followed the beast's trajectory—it was heading far south, even beyond the Summer Isles.
If the great ships continued in that direction, they would eventually reach the third continent of the world—the vast and uncharted Sothoryos.
"…Forget it. The Greenblood River comes first."
The Sea Snake shook his head, locking the thought away. It was something to remember, but not something to waste time pondering.
After a long while—
The fleet emerged from the fog, and to the north, a tropical coastline came into view.
The forest stood right next to a wide river estuary, where the rushing waters flowed into the sea.
The Sea Serpent gazed ahead—there wasn't a single ship at the river mouth, and the air carried a desolate scent.
An officer stepped forward and said, "My lord, ahead lies the Lemonwood. If we sail upstream, we'll reach Plankytown."
"Lemonwood's defenses are lax. Notify the fleet to launch an attack immediately!"
The Sea Serpent issued the order.
At his command, the fleet surged into the river mouth.
In Lemonwood, a noble house held land, and a contingent of Dornish cavalry guarded the riverbank.
The lord of the land was Andrey Dalt, who resided in a wooden castle.
"A foreign fleet has entered the Greenblood River! Send word to Sunspear immediately for reinforcements!"
Andrey was in a panic, his thick beard trembling with fear.
His men scrambled to obey, rushing to alert the maester to send a raven.
"Screeeech..."
A massive dragon descended from the sky, its pale pink wings flapping as it unleashed a torrent of dragonfire upon the wooden castle.
Boom—
The dry wood ignited instantly, turning into the perfect kindling.
"Sunfyre, cut off their escape!"
Aegon's eyes widened, his battle stance sharp and unwavering.
"Screeeech..."
Sunfyre spread its wings and soared, gliding over Lemonwood in a dazzling display of majesty.
For a moment, its golden scales gleamed like a second sun in the sky.
The sight reinvigorated the attackers, sending their morale soaring.
The Sea Serpent seized the momentum, raising his curved longsword high as he roared, "Charge! Press on to Plankytown!"
The once-calm Greenblood River was now swept into a storm of blood and fire.
---
The Prince's Pass.
Atop the cliffs stood the castle of Kingsgrave.
The sun hung high, scorching the rugged cliffs until they cracked, the heat distorting the air.
The dragons' terrifying roars had faded.
The two great beasts had vanished.
And with them, the Targaryens.
At this very moment—
Kingsgrave, the underground crypts.
Over a thousand people huddled inside, men and women, young and old alike, crammed together in the dim underground chamber.
"Damn it! Damn the Reach! Damn the Targaryens!"
A voice, gruff and furious, cursed relentlessly.
It belonged to a nobleman clad in armor.
He had thick black curls, olive-toned skin, a lean frame, and sharp green eyes.
He stomped his foot in anger, shouting profanities at the enemies besieging his castle.
His identity was unmistakable—
Lord Morros Manwoody, ruler of Kingsgrave.
The Manwoody family was an ancient Dornish noble house, their stronghold guarding the middle passage of the Prince's Pass.
Their founder had slain a long-forgotten king of the Reach on these very lands, which was why their sigil bore a crowned skull.
As the current lord, Morros had inherited the Manwoody pride and stubbornness.
His furious outburst only deepened the terror among the elderly and children in the crypts, making them shrink further into silence.
Even his wife sat in a daze, drained of all hope.
When Morros finally tired of shouting, he beckoned a guard and demanded, "Where are the dragons? Shouldn't they have burned my castle to the ground by now?"
"I—I don't know…"
The guard's eyes darted nervously, his voice hesitant.
Morros narrowed his eyes, instantly sensing deception. His tone sharpened. "Tell your lord the truth—what are you hiding from me?!"
The guard stole a quick glance at the countess before lowering his head. "In the rush to reach the crypts… we couldn't find Lady Lysa. Young Lord Dickon went to the back garden to look for her."
"What?!"
Morros' fury exploded. "I have only one son and one daughter! You all ran for your own lives and lost my daughter?!"
The guard paled, stammering, "There are still soldiers searching the tower and tunnels—they should find them soon."
"The hell they will!"
Morros kicked the guard aside, then turned and struck his wife hard across the face. His voice was crude and filled with rage. "You can't even keep an eye on our children! I'll deal with you when I get back!"
Without waiting for objections, he stormed out of the crypts.
---
The Back Garden.
Calling it a garden was generous—it had none of the lush fragrances of flowers, only a few rough patches of bright-colored plants.
It was small, lacking even a pond or a pavilion.
Towering castle walls loomed over it, casting deep shadows, fitting for such a formidable stronghold.
"Giggle…"
Amidst the ordinary and unremarkable garden, the crisp laughter of a child rang out.
Beneath a sturdy willow with drooping branches, a stone bench rested against the trunk.
A handsome, silver-haired boy sat there in a black robe, toying with a piece of malt sugar in his hand.
A little girl, no older than two or three, with curly black hair and fair skin, gazed at the candy with longing.
Sugar was a luxury—even many noble families struggled to afford it.
The silver-haired boy smiled gently, holding the candy just out of reach, waving it playfully before her.
The little girl reached out, but he lifted his hand higher.
Her lips pouted in disappointment, eyes filled with frustration.
He lowered the candy slightly, and she stubbornly focused on it, bouncing on her feet, determined to catch it.
The young boy withdrew his hand again, making her grasp at nothing but air.
It wasn't until the little girl's face scrunched up, on the verge of bursting into tears, that the candy was finally popped into her mouth.
Her sobs turned into the sweet sound of munching.
"A little girl with a sweet tooth."
The boy smiled as he bent down and picked her up in his arms.
Under the shade of a weeping willow stood another boy, slightly older, with black hair and olive-toned skin. His expression was tense as he watched.
The silver-haired boy glanced at him and asked, "Do you want one too?"
"N-no, I'm good."
The older boy's face changed, and he instinctively took half a step back in fear.
As he spoke, his eyes darted to the left, cold sweat trickling down his spine.
In his line of sight—
A massive jet-black dragon, terrifying in appearance, loomed over the entire castle, its green slit-pupils gazing down indifferently.
Three children and a giant dragon coexisted peacefully in this unlikely scene.
Morse hurried to the garden, arriving just in time to witness a sight that made his head feel like it was about to explode.
What was even more terrifying—
The silver-haired boy noticed his arrival, slowly removed his black robe, and flashed a dazzling smile.
There was no malice, no hostility—only the warmth of an old friend reuniting after years apart.
Gurgle~~
Morse's heart skipped a beat, and he swallowed instinctively.
The boy's smile was as brilliant as sunlight, blending seamlessly with the flowers and greenery around him.
Yet Morse stood on high alert.
Beneath that gentle exterior lurked a danger as sharp as a blade against one's back.
(End of Chapter)