Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 453: Oldtown Should Fend For Itself

Chapter 453: Oldtown Should Fend For Itself

Rhaegar tied back his long hair and reminded them, "Without my help, you'll have to get involved."

His men had very little experience with magic. Tru was in Oldtown, and it was hard to discern loyalties in Lys.

Aemond was the first to raise his hand, saying enthusiastically, "I'll do it. Dorne should remember blood and fire." Dorne was his greatest enemy, and he had paid the price of an eye for it.

Helaena raised her hand silently, avoiding the sight of the corpses.

Aegon glanced at his siblings and smiled as he stepped forward. How could he miss out on such an opportunity?

Daemon and Rhaenys exchanged a glance, nodding in agreement. They recognized that the battlefield in Dorne was not under their control, and their nephew's request carried more weight than any reprimand from Viserys. Besides, Dorne needed a lesson.

Rhaegar nodded with satisfaction as he looked around. "Very good. In the next few months, let Dorne feel the full aftereffects of the Dragon's Wroth."Rêạd new chapters on

At his command, a large number of corpses were transported into the city. Rhaegar shared the Dragonstone Spell with them, enlightening each one to feel the magic in their blood.

The idea of teaching this magic had been around for a long time, but it had been delayed for various reasons. Conquering Dorne presented the perfect opportunity.

The Targaryens had never been so united, transforming into a full-fledged Dragonlord House. How can a Dragonlord who doesn't know the ways of a bloodmage be called a Dragonlord?

...

Yronwood, a Month Later

Time had flown by, and Yronwood, once a bustling city, was now a desolate wasteland covered in rubble and corpses. At first glance, it resembled a vision of hell.

Outside the crumbled city walls, a large number of soldiers from The Reach gathered to guard a camp that stretched for miles along the Boneway.

"Roar..."

"Roar..."

On this day, six dragons flew out of the camp, chasing each other and snorting. The black wings covered the sky, the scarlet dragon was as fast as lightning, and the pale blue scales blended into the blue sky. Among them, an ugly mud dragon stood out against the backdrop of the other magnificent and fierce dragons. It was unmistakably unique.

The dragons slowly descended, resembling six mountains of different sizes taking root.

Six figures in red robes stepped down from the backs of the dragons and gathered together. One of them removed his hood, revealing a delicate, paper-pale face.

Rhaegar, in his Dragonborn form with a horn protruding from his forehead, took out a glass candle as he always did.

"It's been almost a month since the first round of Dragon's Wroth ended. It's time to give the people of Dorne some memories," he said, inserting the Truefyre at his waist into the ground. The red heart of flame at the end of his sword's hilt glowed in unison with the glass candle.

"Let's get started," Daemon said impatiently, removing his hood, his eyes full of curiosity. He had learned the binding spell early on and didn't want his nephew to know more. Dragonstone was a strategic-level blood magic.

Rhaegar's expression was indifferent. He took one last look at Yronwood and said to himself, "Next time we meet, we'll call it the Dragonlord Altar."

He placed the glass candle at his feet.

Pop! The glass wick of the candle emitted a flame, swaying in a strange arc. As if receiving a signal, the dragons became instantly restless.

"Roar!" Cannibal's green pupils were menacing as it soared into the sky, spitting Dragonfire at the ruined town. The other five dragons followed suit, hovering over the ruins and spewing Dragonfire in unison.

A messenger, sweating profusely, clung to the steep Blackstone Dragon's neck, his words laden with urgency: "Prince, news from Oldtown: Starfall and Blackmont are attacking the defenses of The Arbor, with the intention of striking Oldtown itself."

Rhaegar remained silent, glancing at Daemon.

Daemon, with a knowing smile, said nothing, his hands clasped in front of his chest as he observed the scene. His eyes lingered teasingly on his niece, wrapped up like a red caterpillar.

"Oldtown?" Before Rhaegar could respond, Aegon interjected, his face turning red with irritation. "We haven't overlooked Oldtown. What's the rush?"

The messenger looked embarrassed and replied, "The Castellan of Oldtown sent a message. Lord Ormund requests that the royal family destroy Starfall and Blackmont to ensure the safety of Oldtown."

Aegon, extremely irritated, retorted, "The war in Dorne is already chaotic, and my father hasn't even addressed it. Now Oldtown wants to complicate things?"

Rhaegar, surprised, thought to himself, "Has my brother finally grown a backbone?" Then he remembered Hightower's forced marriage to Aegon and understood his anger.

The messenger, frightened, fell silent.

Rhaegar waved his hand dismissively, "Go on. I will protect Oldtown if it comes to that."

Having personally burned Starfall and Blackmont, Rhaegar knew the reality. Oldtown would hold out for a while longer. He would intervene at the crucial moment.

The relieved messenger descended the mountain as if pardoned.

The first wave of Dragon's Wroth had swept across Dorne, and the crown prince had used the remains of the Dornish people to build a monstrous peak, darkening House Targaryen's reputation.

The name Rhaegar Targaryen was now known throughout Dorne, instilling fear and respect.

"Hmm..." Helaena, awakened by the noise, curled up and said, "Brother, the news of Dragon Mountain will spread back to Dorne."

Rhaegar tugged at her cheeks. "And?"

"You might be branded a cruel man," she mumbled, half-asleep.

Rhaegar laughed. "Dragon's Wroth was the conqueror's first act. Don't forget how many died in those flames of anger."

History is written by the victors. Maegor was called cruel not just for his insane behavior but because he lost his life. Rhaegar intended never to lose.

He patted Helaena's waist. "Wake up. The people of Dorne haven't learned their lesson and are ready for the second wave of Dragon's Wroth."

The gentleness in his tone contrasted sharply with his intentions.

Helaena shivered and quickly got up.

Rhaenys interrupted, "What about Oldtown? Lord Ormund has already asked for help."

"I will step in when the time comes," Rhaegar replied, revealing his plan. "My father was attacked and is still recovering. Dorne hasn't paid enough."

He wanted to continue the killing until no one in Dorne could resist, until the mention of the Iron Throne made their knees weak.

"Let's go," Rhaegar commanded, riding on the Cannibal. "There have been movements in Boneway and Sunspear. If we don't act, resistance will burst forth like a spring."

Oldtown, you should fend for itself. Next time I visit, I'll settle some old scores.