Half a month later.
Prince's Pass, Exit.
"Whoa~~"
Rhaegar rode a white-maned warhorse, leisurely patrolling the path.
The vast crimson canyon twisted at sharp angles, blocking the view like the gaping maw of a giant beast.
Hidden arrow towers along the cliffs formed jagged fangs, completing the illusion of a monster's open mouth.
"Holding their ground without coming out… what a hassle."
Rhaegar's gaze was deep, his thoughts shifting.
Half a month ago, the exit of Prince's Pass had been completely sealed off.
The Fowler family, renowned as the "Guardians of Prince's Pass," had withdrawn into Skyreach, taking a defensive stance as if preparing for a prolonged siege.
Behind him, a mix of light and heavy hoofbeats sounded as several warhorses followed.
Mund craned his neck, peering into the distance with a smirk. "The Fowlers call themselves eagles, but when faced with danger, even eagles prefer to hide in their nests."
"Watch your words, Lord Mund."
Donald shot him a cold glare.
Lady Jeyne of Skyreach had fought bravely in battle, sacrificing many knights under her command—she did not deserve to be mocked.
After speaking, Donald quietly observed the crown prince's reaction.
Rhaegar's expression remained calm, unaffected by the exchange.
Hiding was also a skill, much like how House Hightower always managed to bow low in the face of impending disaster.
After a moment of contemplation, Rhaegar turned slightly and asked, "Lord Mors, with Skyreach so heavily fortified, what insights do you have?"
Mors, with his tangled black curls and lanky frame, looked like an unremarkable monkey atop his white horse.
Yet beneath his small stature, his sharp eyes flickered with intelligence.
Since the fall of Tombstone Keep, Mors had managed to integrate well into his new surroundings.
Hearing the prince's question, he hesitated briefly before answering honestly, "Skyreach is easy to defend and hard to attack. Ordinary soldiers won't be able to breach it."
"We could use dragonfire for suppression, slowly wearing down their defenses. If we maintain the siege for three to five months, the city will fall on its own."
It was a standard response but hit the crux of the matter.
Rhaegar first nodded, then shook his head. "That takes too long. If each city takes three months, suppressing Dorne will become a distant goal."
Mors quickly added, "If both dragons attack in shifts, with soldiers pressing the siege day and night, we could take the city in a month."
Rhaegar continued shaking his head.
The dragons might endure, but the soldiers wouldn't.
A victory paid for in blood was still a defeat.
As silence fell over the group, Rhaegar suddenly spoke.
"I have a plan, but I'll need your cooperation, Lord Mors."
The three men turned to him, while Mors instinctively tensed.
"What plan?"
Mund eagerly pressed for details.
Rhaegar cast one last glance at the sealed-off pass, tightened his reins, and turned his horse around. With a knowing smile, he said, "We'll discuss it back at camp."
"Hyah!"
His white-maned warhorse, agile and swift, sped off like an arrow.
---
Noon. The scorching sun blazed overhead.
Rhaegar and his men rode into camp.
The army had set up base in the rear half of Prince's Pass, with Nightsong and Tombstone Keep serving as supply hubs, ensuring a steady flow of resources to the front lines.
Now, along a broad crimson road, 30,000 Riverland soldiers stood ready.
A sharp cry split the air.
"Skreee…"
From afar, the sound of a dragon's roar echoed, followed by the sweeping shadow of a creature gliding overhead.
Dreamfyre soared back, her pale blue wings casting cool shade over the camp.
The dragon landed gracefully, and from her back, a lively figure in a checkered beige dress nimbly slid down.
"Brother!"
Helena beamed with joy, lifting her long skirts as she ran toward him.
Rhaegar stepped forward to meet her. She flung herself into his arms like a cannonball, and he sighed with amusement.
"I told you—wear armor."
"Armor is too cumbersome," Helena pouted.
She stood on tiptoe, whispering excitedly into his ear, "I've finished engraving all my bronze runes. They're even better than armor!"
"Really?"
Rhaegar raised an eyebrow. "That fast?"
Helena nodded enthusiastically, lowering her voice. "I think it's because of Dreamfyre. She's growing rapidly, and I feel stronger just being around her."
Rhaegar's eyes flickered with surprise. He leaned in, sniffing her lightly, and joked, "No doubt about it—you smell like dragon stink."
A perfectly fine young lady, with a rather unique personal scent.
Helena: "…"
After a long pause, she grumbled, "I burned Eagle's Nest to the ground."
Eagle's Nest, perched within the Red Mountains, had been a key outpost guarding Prince's Pass, manned by seasoned mountain troops.
"Well done! That's exactly what Queen Visenya would have done."
Rhaegar smirked, pinching her cheek playfully before leading her to the command tent.
---
Half a month had passed.
Refugees had been settled, Tombstone Keep had surrendered, and several Dornish fortresses along Prince's Pass had been seized.
The time had come to turn their swords toward Skyreach and push deeper into the Dornish heartlands.
Gathering his commanders, Rhaegar laid out his strategy—one that heavily relied on Mors.
Mors hesitated, torn between choices, before finally gritting his teeth and agreeing.
---
Days later.
Prince's Pass, Dornish Stone Hills.
A formidable stronghold stood tall, banners fluttering in the wind—a silver field with a hooded sky-blue hawk.
Skyreach, the seat of House Fowler.
Suddenly—
"SKREEEEEE!"
A deafening dragon's roar shattered the stillness, rumbling across ten miles, thick with rage.
At the exit of Prince's Pass, a black dragon circled low.
Dragonfire rained down, consuming fortifications and slaughtering every Dornishman who dared resist.
"Run!"
"Avoid the dragon—don't stop!"
Further down the road, a ragged group of Dornish cavalry fled in disarray, barely a dozen men left.
Behind them, a larger force pursued, their banners bearing the sigil of the Riverlands.
One side fled desperately.
The other closed in, relentless.
And all of them were now entering the dragon's fiery domain.
Boom—
Emerald-green dragonfire, as misty as smoke, descended from the sky, melting the earthen walls of the fortress and incinerating the fleeing Dornishmen.
It was a one-sided massacre.
Terrified beyond reason, the Dornish screamed and scattered in all directions.
The Dornish cavalry, moving with greater speed, charged straight toward Skyreach on the rocky slopes of Dorne.
With the cavalry leading the way, the disorganized Dornish soldiers followed, converging toward the perilous city.
"Screeeech—"
The massive black dragon, enraged and humiliated, soared over the scattered group of fewer than a hundred Dornishmen and flew directly above Skyreach.
Before the eyes of the defending soldiers, it unleashed its dragonfire without restraint.
The soldiers, scrambling to prepare their scorpion crossbows, found themselves unable to aim properly at the airborne beast—rendering their weapons utterly useless.
In the end, they perished beneath the dragon's flames.
The dragon burned from noon until dusk.
The dragonfire melted the towers and the tops of the city walls, warping the bricks and stones as if they were ruined glasswork.
On the ground, the granaries and stables were reduced to ash, consuming the stored food and the horses within.
As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, the black dragon, satisfied with its destruction, flapped its vast, dark wings and departed without a care.
Meanwhile, the Reach cavalry seized the outer fortress of the Prince's Pass and began reorganizing their defenses.
In contrast, Skyreach was engulfed in smoke, resembling a city that had just survived the apocalypse.
It stood on a steep slope, facing the outer fortress from a distance.
### Late into the night.
The Red Mountains fell into a deep silence, with the night sky shimmering with countless stars.
From the ravines, Dornish soldiers cautiously poked their heads out, slipping away under the cover of darkness.
On the city walls of Skyreach, baskets were lowered to help them ascend.
At that moment, a massive black dragon perched atop a distant mountain peak, its dark scales blending perfectly with the shadows.
Rhaegar's violet eyes glowed faintly as he watched, his gaze fixed on Mors and Dickon being led onto the city walls, only to be taken captive by the defending soldiers.
"The seeds have been sown—now we wait for them to sprout."
Rhaegar murmured softly, patting the dragon's back.
The massive beast, Glutton, shifted its hulking body, spread its wings, and leaped into the air, vanishing into the darkness.
---
### Greenblood River – Plankytown
The once-thriving port was now ablaze. The gray-brown walls had collapsed in large sections, and the town was filled with the wails of the wounded, shrouded in deep sorrow.
"Catapults ready! Aim for the enemy warships!"
The Sea Snake's eyes burned with fury as he roared out commands.
Under the moonlight, three fleets clashed on the river, with two forces converging against one.
One fleet bore the sigil of a golden hand on a red and brown segmented field.
Another flew the banner of three black leopards on an orange-gold background.
These were the fleets of House Allyrion of God's Grace and House Vance of Vancehold.
The former ruled from the confluence of the Vance, Wrath, and Greenblood Rivers.
The latter was settled along the banks of the Vance River.
Both noble Dornish houses had their own ports, and upon hearing of the Sea Snake's attack and capture of Plankytown, they quickly assembled their fleets for a counteroffensive.
"Screeeech—"
A radiant golden dragon circled above the battlefield, its fearsome maw unleashing torrents of dragonfire.
The flames engulfed the sails and masts of both Dornish fleets, burning sailors alive on the decks and dealing a devastating blow to their morale.
"Don't let those Dornish bastards escape! Tighten the encirclement!"
The Sea Snake's dark face was grim as he bellowed with all his might.
Compared to the disciplined and battle-hardened Stepstones navy led by the Velaryon fleet, these two small inland Dornish fleets were utterly outclassed—both in terms of warships and the quality of their sailors.
What's more, with a dragon on their side, the scales of victory had been tipped from the very beginning.
The battle raged on deep into the night, the fires of war never ceasing.
Gradually, dawn broke.
The two Dornish fleets were completely annihilated—sailors either slain in battle or left to drown, feeding the river's depths.
As the sun rose higher, its warm glow reflected on the waters of the Greenblood.
The river, though not truly green, was now stained an inescapable crimson.
"Screeeech—"
Aegon rode Sunfyre, patrolling the river and assisting soldiers in recovering battlefield supplies.
The Sea Snake, his expression heavy with exhaustion, leaned against the deck, taking a rare moment of rest.
Since the fleet burned the lemon groves and crossed the Greenblood, relying on Sunfyre's strength to swiftly capture Plankytown, the Dornish nobles along the river had been launching frantic counterattacks for over half a month.
The first fleet to retaliate came from Salt Shore.
Salt Shore, located on Dorne's southern coast near the Summer Sea, could dispatch reinforcements to the Greenblood in just a few days by sea.
That battle had been brutal—a full day and night of bloodshed.
In the end, Sunfyre turned the tide, incinerating the enemy's flagship, allowing the Sea Snake to seize victory.
Now, with the fleets of God's Grace and Vancehold destroyed, Dorne no longer had any naval forces worth mentioning.
The Sea Snake let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he gazed at the rising sun.
His eyes turned toward the distant east—toward Sunspear.
Plankytown lay dangerously close to Sunspear. An army on foot could reach it within a day.
"Qoren, I wonder what your face looks like right now."
The Sea Snake's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he muttered to himself.
With control over the Greenblood River, the east and west of Dorne were now completely severed—Sunspear had become an isolated stronghold.
Now, all that remained was for the Crown Prince and the King to lead their respective armies through the Red Mountains and into the heart of Dorne.
Then, the Sea Snake could launch an inland offensive, encircling Sunspear from all sides.
Taking a deep breath, he called for his adjutant and issued a command.
"Send word to the Prince's Pass and the Boneway—urge the armies to march into Dorne immediately."