Chapter 428: Blackhaven

"No!!!"

"Get out of the way, flee..."

Panic surged through the crowd, their bodies slick with sweat as they scrambled in desperation.

Boom-

The golden dragonfire surged relentlessly, carving a scorching path through the narrow pass, leaving a glowing line against the red-hued mountain rocks.

Someone glanced up in a fleeting moment of clarity, catching a final glimpse of life.

A massive dragon with bronze scales, brown wing membranes, and a fearsome demeanor.

Bronze Fury - Vermithor.

"Seven hells!"

His face twisted in terror as the bronze dragon unleashed its fiery wrath, erasing his features in an instant.

Above, a commanding voice echoed.

"Vermithor, Dracarys!"

"Roar!"

Vermithor, the bronze dragon, roared, its colossal body swooping down, jaws agape, spewing searing golden flames.

The mountains reverberated with cries and wails. Moments later, only charred remnants and lifeless forms remained.

"Vermithor, well done."

Viserys's face was flushed with excitement and pride. Clad in black steel armor, a red cloak billowing behind him, and the House sword Blackfyre at his waist, he exuded an air of determination and strength. The armor masked his aging form, making him appear twenty years younger—a fearless dragon rider ready for battle.

"Roar!"

Vermithor's vertical pupils scanned the terrain, wings flapping methodically as it hunted down the scattered mercenaries. Once spotted, they were engulfed in dragonfire, the nickname Bronze Fury lived up to its name.

"Haha, let's go."

Viserys, invigorated, grinned widely. "There are still many who need to witness the Wrath of the Sleeping Dragon."

He wiped away the sweat from his brow, though it was not from the heat but the thrill of the battle.

Viserys chuckled to himself, "Fighting with dragons is a bit too exhilarating for me."

But it was undeniably satisfying.

"Roar!"

Vermithor, a bronze sun in the sky, soared swiftly and ferociously towards the other side of the mountain range.

According to the Master of Whisperers, large groups of mercenaries had gathered on the Boneway.

They still needed to be dealt with, one by one.

...

Three days passed quickly.

A large crowd of refugees crossed the treacherous Boneway and gathered at a narrow fortress. This fortress, built between towering rock walls, stood over ten feet high with a massive bronze gate barring the entrance. The cliffs on either side were pierced with a honeycomb of rifle holes, constantly aimed at potential attackers.

Beyond the fortress loomed a majestic castle built into the mountain and towering over the city - Blackhaven, the seat of House Dondarrion.

"Roar!"

A bronze dragon emerged from the castle, its icy gaze sweeping over the refugees below. Their numbers swelled, blocking the entrance to the fortress and threatening its defenses.

The sight of the dragon overhead numbed the refugees; they neither hid nor cried. Occasionally, a child's cry was quickly silenced by an adult. Their situation was dire-no food, no hope. Their only option was to gather at the fortress on the Boneway and endure the scorching sun.

Despair settled over them, a weight heavier than the dragon above.

"Roar..."

"Roar..."

Suddenly, two more dragon roars echoed from afar as two massive dragons emerged from the dark clouds. One was black, the other was pale blue, and they soared through the sky in a synchronized dance.

Whoosh!

The black dragon swooped down, gliding perilously close to the rock walls, its sharp claws scraping the rugged surface. Rhaegar, clad in black robes, murmured, "Cannibal, don't terrorize the refugees."

"Roar—"

The black dragon's eerie green eyes fixated on Blackhaven as it soared upward.

"Roar..."

Dreamfyre followed, its light blue wings spreading wide, painting a serene picture against the sky. Helaena's face tightened as she glanced at the foul-smelling refugees below.

"Dragons..."

"Targaryen..."

The refugees stared in awe as the two giant dragons and their young riders passed overhead. The dragons guarded the fortress, preventing any breakthrough of the Boneway. The refugees, unable to breach the defenses, sank deeper into despair under the relentless sun, their hearts cold with hopelessness.

Soon, the dragons disappeared from sight, returning to the unseen, untouchable Blackhaven.

...

Blackhaven, Courtyard.

Vermithor landed first, occupying the limited open space in the courtyard.

Elsewhere, Cannibal and Dreamfyre touched down outside the courtyard. The imposing black basalt walls, though robust, seemed like mere earthen barriers against the dragons' powerful hind limbs. With a slight stretch, the dragons' heads peered over the deep, unseen moat, surveying every corner of the forecourt.

Rhaegar removed his hood and dismounted from his dragon.

Rumble—

The city gates slowly creaked open as a group of soldiers emerged to greet them.

"Rhaegar, my boy!"

Viserys strode forward, elation evident in his demeanor.

"Father, are you alright?" Rhaegar asked, smiling faintly as he approached.

Viserys grasped his eldest son's arm, squeezing the strong muscles with a broad smile. "It's great that you could come."

Father and son had previously agreed that Rhaegar would address the troubles in the Stormlands first.

"Father."

Helaena dismounted and ran forward for a hug,smiling brightly.

Viserys, clad in armor, hugged his daughter as best he could through the iron plates. "Helaena, you should have stayed in King's Landing," he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

After Maiden's Day, Helaena had hidden in Harrenhal before returning to the Red Keep and then quietly traveling to the Stormlands.

Helaena's delicate brows furrowed slightly as she explained, "I wanted to find a blue island and ended up running into my brother first."

"You mean Tarth Island?" Viserys asked, slightly puzzled.

Tarth Island, one of the islands off the coast of Westeros, lay north of Shipbreaker Bay,separated from the mainland by a strait. Renowned for its beauty, it featured diverse landscapes like mountains, lakes, plains, and vales. It was also known as the Sapphire Isle due to its nearby azure waters.

Helaena looked slightly confused and replied vaguely, "I just saw a blue island."

"Then you should definitely go and see it," Viserys suggested, raising an eyebrow. He realized that his youngest daughter might be experiencing another bout of mental instability.

Viserys didn't believe Helaena possessed the gift of Dragon Dreams, which were typically triggered by indirect but persistent dreams. Helaena's visions seemed more like sporadic images that suddenly flashed through her mind.

"Father, let's discuss this inside the city," Rhaegar suggested, steering the conversation away.

"Alright," Viserys said quickly. "I'll have Lord Simon prepare the banquet."

Lord Simon Dondarrion, the elderly and meticulously dressed Lord of Blackhaven, nodded in approval. He was a proud and dignified old noble. Alongside him were the Kingsguardbrothers, Arryk and Erryk, ever-vigilant in their protection of the King.

The brothers nodded respectfully. "Prince, Princess."

Rhaegar smiled, taking Helaena's hand as they walked inside. Helaena, her freckled face scrunched in a pout, followed reluctantly.

"Don't be upset," Rhaegar said softly. "We'll be heading to Highgarden soon."

"Oh," Helaena responded with a squeak, her thoughts drifting to the strange vision she had of a fishmonger on the blue island.

The group entered the castle courtyard.

"Roar..."

Vermithor lay prostrate, its horned and crowned head raised slightly, emanating a fierce aura. Rhaegar glanced at the bronze beast, noting how Vermithor had regained some of his formerferocity after days of hunting mercenaries.

Viserys, slightly out of breath, spoke proudly, "Vermithor is a true warrior, even more powerful than I imagined."

Riding dragons in battle was a far cry from parades. Rhaegar looked at his father withconcern. "Is your health holding up?"

Viserys reassured him with a dismissive wave, "I'm fine. It's just a little exertion, no serious wounds."

At first, Viserys had feared that fighting on a dragonback would reopen his wounds and humiliate him on the battlefield. To his surprise, Vermithor's control of the skies had protected him.

As they talked, they made their way to the castle. Blackhaven Castle, perched on a cliff, had walls facing the Boneway that were covered in vine-like greenery, resembling a green waterfall. Inside, the castle hall was cool, the walls and foliage blocking out the sun.

The old Lord commanded his attendants to prepare a sumptuous banquet.

Before taking his seat, another person arrived hurriedly.

"Your Grace, the military supplies have been reviewed thoroughly," Tyland reported, sweating profusely and panting from his haste.

His blonde hair was disheveled, and his clothes carried a faint odor of sweat, a stark contrast to his usually immaculate appearance.

Viserys inquired about the general situation and then gestured for Tyland to sit.

Tyland nodded curtly, not forgetting to sendgreetings to Rhaegar.

Rhaegar and Viserys were his superiors, but the Heir Prince was his first priority.

Rhaegar returned Tyland's smile, surprised to see him here. But upon reflection, it made sense. The Prince's Palace was located in the DornishBorderlands, just past Blackhaven and at the exit of the Boneway. As an overseer and former royal advsiser, it was natural for Tyland to be temporarily drafted.

As the meal was being served, Tyland took amoment to report privately.

"Blackhaven has two thousand infantry, eight hundred archers, twenty-six knights, and a stockpile of defensive supplies such as oil," he began. "Outside the city, there are at least ten thousand Dornish refugees. Several side paths have been targeted by mercenaries, but His Grace, riding Vermithor, crushed them all."

Rhaegar listened attentively, analyzing the disparity between their forces and the enemy.

First, Blackhaven had no reinforcements. The Stormlands' army was either supporting the Triarchy or clearing out remnants of Dornishresistance. It would take at least a month to fully restore order and send reinforcements.

However, this was not a major concern. Blackhaven's treacherous terrain and strategic location at the Boneway's bottleneck meant that an army of 3,000 could effectively block 100,000 troops. Additionally, with his father and Vermithor defending the town, it was virtually impregnable.

Rhaegar realized that the Prince's Pass required the most reinforcement. Unlike the Boneway, it lacked natural defenses, and Nightsong did not have a seasoned leader like Lord Simon. Despite his age and questionable reputation, Simon Dondarrion had a history of fierce combat against the Dornish and was more experienced than many of his peers.

As the meal progressed, Viserys took a sip of wine and spoke seriously, "The Sea Snake has lost his son and has mobilized the navy of the Stepstones towards Salt Shore."

(Word count: 1,703)