"Ah!" At the ceremony site beside the Kingsroad, the assassin let out a painful wail.
"There's a second hit!" Rhaegar hoisted the assassin by the neck and delivered a violent punch to his jaw—a blow with force comparable to that of mammoths. The assassin spat out shattered teeth, his jawbone broken. Rhaegar swiftly dislocated the assassin's jaw; perhaps this tongue might still be of some use?
With a violent throw, Rhaegar slammed the assassin heavily onto the ground, landing in a pool of blood. The beautiful blue falcon coat was now stained with patches of gore. Snowflakes fell onto the assassin's face as he let out a painful wail. The coldness of the snow, the heat of the flesh.
Everyone had recovered in those few moments when the assassin drew his dagger. But before they could rush to the rescue, Rhaegar had already finished it all. Everyone stood frozen in place, still thinking of Rhaegar's previous command. That purple greatsword, by the looks of it, also seemed to be a Valyrian steel sword. In this day and age, could Valyrian steel swords really be so cheap and common?
"Who's next?" Rhaegar stepped on the assassin's face, grinding it directly into the dirt. "Some people, some people always come to test my patience. I am a very gentle person, but I cannot tolerate such offenses!"
"Assassin!" "Assassin!" The clamor rose up. Even the dullest person realized there was an assassin here. The knights held their ground, but the farmers and craftsmen were scared, scurrying away in panic.
"Do not panic, I am fine, do not approach me!" "Robert, protect your sister. Knights, protect your lords." Rhaegar's voice was like steel; at this moment, he was like a god of slaughter. His voice suppressed everything, and silence fell. Ser Barristan had intended to step forward, but remembering what had just happened, he realized the Faceless Men possessed magic. The knight felt some shame; under magic, he truly could not provide protection. The pause of those few moments had decided the outcome of the battle.
Everyone stood there dumbfounded, not daring to step forward and approach the Prince. Ser Barristan, Lord Hoster, Lord Old Oak, and others. Rennal was even more terrified, his face ashen; the child had never seen such a bloody and brutal scene. They only saw a one-sided slaughter, only saw those azure flames, blood and fire of the same origin.
The dragon appeared violently in the sky, sensing Rhaegar's rage. The dragon group blotted out the sky and sun, circling not far above his head.
"Why can I only sense danger at the very moment the Faceless Men strike?" Rhaegar thought to himself. "This might be related to the training the Faceless Men receive. They have training in language, lies, psychology, poisons, assassination, and more. Professionals can conceal their inner thoughts, and thus can also mask their killing intent and murderous aura. They are no ones, knowing only how to kill."
Rhaegar raised the shortsword, a beautiful Valyrian shortsword, glowing with an eerie green light, with a blue gemstone on it. The dagger had multiple effects: cold, curses, and poison. The curse originated from ancient resentment, which Rhaegar understood. And the gift of the god of cold—when the sword appeared, time stood still for it. Most spells had too long of a casting time, like those pig-stupid Warlocks of Qarth. If Rhaegar were an ordinary mage, he might not be here right now. But he possessed magic-insulating runes, the net from Storm's End, which could shield against magic.
"Prince, your black stallion is unfortunately gone!" A guard, his hands covered in blood and wearing a House Tully cloak, stepped forward again, ignoring Rhaegar's warning. That cold chill became sharp again—it was the footsteps of time, and everyone froze once more.
This time, the assassin raised his finger, and the blue ice ring on it emitted a ray containing the essence of ice, antiquity, and stagnation. This assassin was quite cunning, trying to freeze Rhaegar's speed first, but all of this was useless.
An azure flame shield shrouded the front, the ray was dissolved instantly, and the ice gemstone lost its luster.
But the assassin did not retreat; instead, he pulled out a large piece of blue crystal from his hand, resembling a snowball, flickering with an eerie blue light.
"Valar morghulis, all men must die!" The assassin crushed the snowball. With the snowball as the center, dozens of blue ice blades imbued with cold mercilessly surged toward Rhaegar. The blue ice blades shrouded Rhaegar's upper body, moving as fast as lightning. Everything happened in a flash, and no one could avoid it. Moreover, once these blue ice blades entered the body, they left wounds like glass cuts, very smooth—this was the flickering of magic. Rhaegar felt that chill, biting and cold, representing winter, representing ice. The ice blades might also have had other effects attached, such as an inability to recover after being struck, an inherent curse ability, and the ice poison itself was a type of poison that ordinary techniques could not heal.
Rhaegar looked at the blue ice blades before him; the group attack had also arrived. The attack was so dangerous, but Rhaegar had escaped from the hands of an Ice Dragon, so these attacks were not particularly outrageous. Rhaegar thought of the Ice Dragon's breath; he suspected this was a weapon the Faceless Men had obtained by going to the far north and trading with an Ice Dragon. The blue ice blades, like the swords of the Others, could perhaps only be avoided with Valyrian armor or obsidian armor. Against ordinary armor, these blue ice blades cut through like a knife through butter, leaving the victim with no way out.
"Masking killing intent! A fine trick!" Rhaegar remained unfazed. He waved his hand, and a much larger azure flame appeared, with various runes and symbols flowing across the shield. "Shield" to block attacks, "Tree" lush and green, "Hammer" with the force of a thousand jun. The Faceless Men could lurk very close by by masking their killing intent; because it was a very professional technique that suppressed the mind, vigilance could not directly identify them. Moreover, these people's daggers, crossbow bolts, and blue crystals were all somewhat strange. Rhaegar now confirmed that this magic came from the extremely cold north; when he confronted the Ice Dragon, the Ice Dragon's aura was just as cold. These Faceless Men in the gutters were also professionally trained. With these methods of theirs, an individual ordinary mage would not be a match—first came a time stop, then a large-scale explosion of blue crystals!
"How is this possible!" The assassin disguised as a House Tully guard was now also stunned. Is this even human? The ice bombs were their core weapon, their trump card, brought out for this attack to ensure success. Unexpectedly, when the ice attack occurred, the Dragon King opposite them actually summoned flames, and in those azure-flowing, wind-swaying flames, the assassination failed once again. Once the blue crystal shattered and the ice blades triggered, the magic of the blue crystal vanished. This was the whisper of the old gods; once used, it was truly gone.
"It's over!" Rhaegar strode forward, and those ice blades melted and dissolved one after another, mist steaming into the sky.
The blades melted slowly but resolutely the moment they touched the flames. That exquisite azure flame flowed, and that ancient bronze-colored shield had various flames and sparks dancing around its perimeter. The assassin was dazzled; he himself felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar. He saw those runes, saw those sparks. The assassin saw the hammer with the force of a thousand jun, saw the lush tree, saw the shield that resisted everything, saw the incomparably sharp sword, saw the ring of wisdom's fire, saw the wall that rose from the ground, and saw the airtight net. Seven types of runes, seven types of divine power. The assassin even saw those ancient sparks: the golden three-headed eagle, the firewyrms, the black great river god, the azure Fountain of Youth, and the ancient Dawn sword. No, he had to go report to the Kindly Man; this assassination mission was completely over. The Dragon King before him was simply too dangerous.
"You have been to the ruins of Valyria!" The assassin opened his mouth wide, looking at all this in astonishment. Rhaegar walked forward like a gust of wind. Everyone stood frozen in place, feeling overwhelmed.
Rhaegar gripped the assassin's throat. "You are very good, very good!"
"Ice and fire, death and life, high summer and long winter, the cycle never ends!" Rhaegar looked at the man and smiled. "Then please tell me, do you represent winter, or do you represent fire?"
Rhaegar lifted the assassin high, first dislocating his jaw. "You are servants of the god of cold, you are lackeys of the god of cold. If Braavos is destroyed because of this, it will all be the credit of you Faceless Men!" He wanted not only to kill but also to destroy their hearts.
The assassin could not speak; his jawbone was shattered, and his teeth had been knocked out. In the assassin's expression, only terror and helplessness remained. He felt some regret; had they exposed themselves too early? If they had waited until Rhaegar was in a decisive battle with the wights, would the assassination have been more effective then?
"Come and welcome the wrath of the sleeping dragon!" Rhaegar gripped the assassin's throat tightly. Azure flames slowly rose from his hands; the flames were so beautiful, yet so swift. Every minute and every second was a wait and a torment for the assassin. The blue slowly enveloped the assassin, as if crowning him with a burning crown; his head swelled to twice its size. First was the assassin's hair, then his eyes were blown open by the flames, his eyeballs bursting like eggs. The flames spread over the assassin's entire body, his clothes covered in fire. The stench of charred flesh overwhelmed everything, and the assassin awaited the arrival of death. Blood and chaos reached their end at this moment.
"It is you who have awakened the wrath of the sleeping dragon!" Rhaegar no longer looked at this assassin; he was undoubtedly dead. The assassin passed away in wails; this way of dying was quite painful, but it was what they brought upon themselves. If Rhaegar had not had the runes, those ice blades would have been fatal upon entering his body. Ordinary armor could not withstand the ice blades.
Azure flames coiled around Rhaegar; Rhaegar came from fire, he was fire. The flames were Rhaegar's armor; Rhaegar's hair, cheeks, and even his body formed a circle of azure flames, like a suit of armor, the most beautiful armor in the world. The dragon roared happily in the sky; the crisis was resolved, and azure flames would also condense on their bodies.
He was a True Dragon, and he was fire. When these magics were already emerging to the surface, for Rhaegar, as a Dragon King and a True Dragon, to display some magic was not excessive, was it?
The assassination and the resistance were both so swift; snowflakes drifted, and this was only a matter of an instant, yet it was so dangerous and terrifying. The two Faceless Men died alone just like that, as if they were worthless bugs.
Everyone saw this scene, the Prince in the flames. Everything was silent; no one spoke, as if the whole world was frozen at this moment.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you like the story please give it some power stones and reviews. And if you want to read 40+ advance chapters or just want to support me please join my patreon at [email protected]/Translatingfanfics