Rhaegar's gaze was sharp as a blade, making Aemond unable to meet his eyes.
Helena twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, her expression calm. "He wants a castle."
"Hmm?"
Aemond was stunned.
Helena had exposed his intentions with a single sentence and then silently turned her head away.
Seeing the reactions of the siblings, Rhaegar nearly laughed in exasperation. "As expected of my little brother—you've got quite the sharp eye."
Controlling the Three Daughters and the Stepstones meant holding dominion over the lower half of the Narrow Sea's maritime power, without a doubt.
The island of Nars in the Stormlands and Stonehelm in Windward Point were both within key trade routes.
Aemond, caught off guard, hurriedly denied it. "No! I was just thinking about it, that's all!"
Bang!
Rhaegar raised his hand and smacked him on the head.
A solid hit.
Aemond winced in pain, clutching his head and shrinking back.
Helena glanced at him but chose to ignore it.
He deserved that.
Rhaegar grabbed Aemond by the ear, his voice filled with amused rage. "If you want a castle, just tell me. Our father and I haven't treated you so poorly that you need to resort to sneaky tactics. You're really doing the royal family proud, huh?"
"Ouch! That hurts!"
Aemond was forced onto his tiptoes, not daring to resist.
He had grown up watching Aegon get pummeled by their older brother.
The worst punishment Aegon had ever suffered was being strung up on a gallows for everyone to see as a warning.
"And you call yourself capable?"
Rhaegar ignored his pleas for mercy, shaking him like a ragdoll.
Out of all three of his younger brothers, Aemond was the one he had the most hope for.
The boy had the courage to tame a dragon, just like Rhaegar had when he was young.
But why was he so short-sighted?
Teeth clenched in frustration.
Helena couldn't maintain her composed expression anymore. She turned her back to them and quickly said, "If you want a castle, you have to pay the price."
"Sister!~"
Aemond hadn't fully caught what she said, his voice cracking as he pleaded for help.
He was only ten years old, and he really couldn't take this kind of punishment.
Helena turned her head away, pretending not to hear him.
"Stop whining!"
Rhaegar tightened his grip and scolded, "If you keep crying, I'll rip your tongue out."
Right now, he wanted nothing more than to beat some sense into his reckless little brother.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.
Rhaegar's smile turned dangerously bright. "Tell me, you delayed taking Storm's End, got Ser Swann's entire family killed—who exactly were you expecting to clean up this mess?"
Alicent? Otto?
Aemond froze, suddenly not daring to complain about the pain anymore.
His mother and grandfather were capable, but even they would struggle to smooth over such a massive disaster.
Rhaegar's grin widened as he started swinging his arm in circles. "Can't answer? That means you were expecting Father and me to clean up after you."
How convenient for you.
"I was wrong!"
Aemond was terrified. He shut his eyes and apologized.
He really hadn't thought that far ahead.
He had just assumed that with House Swann gone and the Dornish driven out, Stonehelm would become an unclaimed fortress.
Bang!
Rhaegar kicked him, sending him stumbling forward. "Get lost! You're in for a world of trouble!"
"Yes!"
Aemond, feeling as if he'd been granted a pardon, scrambled away, sobbing. "I'll capture Olyvar Yronwood and bring him back!"
Still trying to redeem himself.
Rhaegar: "Get lost!"
Aemond didn't dare look back. He clutched his swollen, bruised ear and ran off as fast as he could.
"Idiot."
Helena finally turned around, feeling a little sorry for him.
Before, Aegon had been the only fool in the family. Now Aemond seemed to have caught the stupidity too.
"You think I wasn't talking about you too?"
Rhaegar, still annoyed, reached out and messed up her hair.
Helena: …
She looked up, her eyes shimmering as she pouted slightly.
As if silently protesting:
"You scolded him, but you just had to drag me into it too?"
Rhaegar rolled his eyes and walked over to sit on the main seat in the hall, propping his chin on one hand. "Why are you here? How's King's Landing?"
He had run into Helena halfway, the girl riding Dreamfyre with such speed she was nearly rivaling Meleys.
If she had been allowed to leave, there must have been a reason.
Helena frowned, smoothing her messy hair, and said, "Dorne is preparing a full-scale attack. I snuck out."
She spoke quickly, explaining the decisions made in the royal council.
Rhaegar listened in silence.
It was just as he had suspected.
The Dornish main forces were plundering the Stormlands, while smaller bands infiltrated the Prince's Pass and the Boneway to weaken the population of Dorne's borderlands.
Behind it all were external forces, such as Braavos, manipulating events. If they managed to strike both fortresses by surprise, they might actually succeed.
Rhaegar's mind raced as he tried to deduce Qoren Martell's true intentions.
First, was there a reason for Dorne to rebel?
Absolutely.
The Three Daughters beyond the Narrow Sea had already fallen. There was no way Dorne, with its generations-old enmity against the Iron Throne, would be spared.
Rhaegar's initial conquest plans had always targeted Dorne first—after all, it was the poorest and most vulnerable of the Seven Kingdoms.
Analysis of Dorne's Environment, National Conditions, and Internal Situation
In recent years, Dorne's harvests have been poor, and commoners struggle to find enough food.
Despite this, Dorne has a sizable population—certainly larger than the North.
If necessary, they could muster twenty thousand soldiers to resist an invasion of the Stormlands without much difficulty.
As long as Braavos and other backers are willing to supply food and weapons, the Dornish, who frequently raid the borders, have no reason to avoid war.
Would they really wait until the Three Daughters are fully under control, allowing the Iron Throne to cut off naval dominance over the lower Narrow Sea?
Would they wait until a swarm of dragons flies over Sunspear, indiscriminately spewing dragonfire?
If they fight now, at the very least, they can weaken the Iron Throne, destabilize the three city-states, and assist Braavos in launching a counterattack.
Rhaegar let out a soft sigh. "Poverty shortens ambition. Land is always the root of conflict."
The Targaryens need new land, and so do the Dornish.
Helena, listening with some confusion, asked softly, "Olipha Yronwood ran away. What do we do?"
Rhaegar waved a hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter. He may have fled, but Dorne isn't going anywhere."
First, they invaded the Stormlands, and now they set their sights on the Wyls.
At this stage, war is spiraling beyond anyone's control.
If Corwyn doesn't want to fight—too bad.
If the Iron Throne doesn't want to fight—also too bad.
The noble lords on both sides despise each other; they won't willingly end the war.
Rhaegar's immediate priority is to lead his forces in clearing out the remaining Dornish troops in the Stormlands before moving to support the Wyls.
If Corwyn refuses to submit, then they will strike from three fronts and crush him.
Helena said, "Father is flying to Blackhaven on dragonback. We need to help."
"Of course," Rhaegar replied.
Helena hesitated. "What about the Three Daughters? Are you sure you can leave?"
She was only thirteen. The farthest she had ever traveled was the last march to White Harbor.
The Free Cities were famous—each was said to be as wealthy as an entire region of Westeros.
Rhaegar smiled, his warmth reaching his eyes. "Don't worry. Aunt Rhaenys is there."
As if to satisfy the young girl's curiosity, he began explaining the city-states.
"Lys has over two million people?" Helena's eyes sparkled.
Rhaegar nodded with a smile. "Lys is the most populous of the Three Daughters. The number of freed slaves alone is beyond counting."
By comparison, the North had a population of roughly three hundred thousand, and Dorne around five hundred thousand.
Forget surpassing the Three Daughters—King's Landing, with its permanent population of five hundred thousand, wasn't even close.
A backwater.
Helena grinned and threw herself into her brother's arms, rubbing her head against him affectionately.
She hadn't seen him in days and just wanted to be close.
At first, Rhaegar was a little stiff, but he couldn't resist Helena's enthusiasm. Eventually, he relaxed.
After a while, he noticed the tight, narrow bracelet on her pale wrist.
"You're still wearing that bracelet?" Rhaegar asked.
The girl buried her face shyly, avoiding his gaze.
Rhaegar took her hand. The bracelet was just as ancient and silver-gray as it had been ten years ago, now nearly too small for her delicate wrist.
"It's too tight. You shouldn't wear it anymore."
Feeling a tinge of affection, he removed Helena's bracelet and replaced it with his own spatial bracelet.
The enchanted bracelet adjusted automatically to fit her wrist perfectly.
Helena's eyes shone with excitement as she whispered, "You're giving it to me?"
A real spatial artifact!
Rhaegar chuckled. "Keep it safe. You shouldn't have to wear an imitation."
Then he suddenly remembered something.
He had given Rhaenyra a Valyrian steel necklace, while Helena only had a replica.
At the time, it was Aelric who had paid for it—one and a half gold dragons.
Helena beamed and asked innocently, "If I use this, what will you use?"
"Good question. I have something better."
Rhaegar pulled out a spatial necklace from under his collar and gave it a little shake.
The necklace had a larger storage capacity and was easier to carry.
Helena examined it closely, noticing its Valyrian steel craftsmanship and slightly elegant design.
She raised her fair hand, admiring both the bracelet and necklace. They were beautiful, and she was delighted.
Rhaegar found her reaction amusing.
With the spatial necklace, the bracelet wasn't as necessary.
But a spatial artifact was still a rare treasure.
He had originally intended to give it to Rhaenyra as a first gift for his twin.
But seeing Helena still wearing a fake bracelet, he didn't want to show favoritism.
"It's so pretty," Helena murmured, admiring it like a prized possession.
Then, she discreetly tucked the imitation bracelet into the storage bracelet.
Rhaegar noticed but said nothing.
With a thought, he pulled out a broken dragon scale from the necklace.
Helena's eyes widened, instantly drawn to it.
Despite being only half intact, the scale was still the size of a palm.
Even Dreamfyre's complete scales were only about that size.
If this damaged scale belonged to a dragon, its original owner must have been larger than both Vhagar and Cannibal.
Rhaegar pondered briefly before making up his mind.
"Prick your finger and drop a bit of blood on it," he instructed.
He had a feeling that the Ashes of Firepeak would bring forth some relic tied to dragons.
Rhaenyra was pregnant and unfit for battle.
Helena, however, was a better candidate to activate this relic.
Sizzle!
Helena didn't hesitate. She took the damaged dragon scale and made a small cut on her finger.
Tiny droplets of fresh blood seeped out, staining the surface of the scale.
Rhaegar silently praised her decisiveness.
"Here you go, brother."
Helena sucked on her injured finger and obediently handed the damaged dragon scale back.
Rhaegar did the same, slicing his finger and letting a crimson droplet of blood fall onto the scale.
Two distinct bloodstreams intertwined, slowly merging before quickly seeping into the damaged dragon scale.
In the next second, the scale burst into a brilliant red glow.
"Congratulations, Ashes of Fire Peak have been activated. You have obtained..."
[Dragon Essence]
- Grade: Legendary (Red)
- Effect: Accelerates the growth of dragons (limited to dragons below adulthood)
- Evaluation: "A dragon's body continues to grow with age. One particular dragon lived to be 300 years old."
The damaged dragon scale underwent a transformation, turning into a complete scale inscribed with mysterious runes.
Without Rhaegar's control, it floated gently above Helena's head—then suddenly dropped with a plop.
"Ow~"
Helena whimpered.
Rhaegar looked at her scrunched-up face, then at the bronze scale now resting on her head, feeling utterly helpless.
Glancing at the text on his system panel, he could only conclude:
"Fools have their own kind of luck."
"Why did it turn out like this?"
Helena rubbed her head and took off the bronze scale that had hit her.
Rhaegar felt a slight pang of regret but told her honestly, "It's a valuable item—feed it to Dreamfire."
The description made it clear that it was best suited for dragons below adulthood.
The Glutton was around 90 years old, yet its size surpassed even Vaghar, who was already the equivalent of a 170-year-old dragon—a fully matured adult.
Dreamfire, being of similar age but slightly smaller in size, was the perfect candidate for it.
A shortcut to raising an adult dragon quickly.