Chapter 427: If a Dragonlord Came…


    Hena rubbed her fingers in the dough with a bemused look, "Mother knows about this."


    "What!?" Aemond eximed in shock.


    "How could mother agree to this? She hates Rhaenyra and Rhaegar the most," he questioned, struggling to understand.


    Unless his mother is nning topromise and use her future as a bargaining chip.


    Hena shook her head, "Don''t be blind. I did it willingly; mother can''t control me anymore." She was being honest to avoid misunderstanding.


    "I''ve liked Rhaegar since I was a child. It''s useless for others to object," Hena exined calmly.


    Aemond couldn''t believe it, his face turning red with embarrassment, "You''re crazy. Targaryen no longer has the tradition of marrying more than one woman. You''re being a mistress!"


    His words were harsh and full of annoyance. He would rather Hena marry that fool Aegon. At least then she would have a name and live with dignity.


    "Who says I want to be a mistress, my dear brother?" Hena''s demeanor remained unchanged as she continued, "You should know about Lady Jeyne. Do you think a Lady would be a mistress?"


    Except when facing Rhaegar, she was intellectually sharp most of the time. Jeyne came from House Arryn of the Eyrie, and her character was just like their family motto: "As High as Honor!"


    She was still young and didn''t attract much attention. Sooner orter, Jeyne couldn''t hide and would take the first step to sh with Rhaenyra, opening up Targaryens to polygamy.


    Even if it vited the unwritten rules set by her great-grandfather and the Faith of the Seven, the Faith of the Seven would not dare to say anything more.


    A Lady personally pushed for it, along with Rhaegar''s heroic conquests, would gradually restore the tradition.


    She just had to bide her time and assist wlessly at the right moment.


    Indeed.


    Her ambition was to emte the formidable Queen Visenya Targaryen, not merely to bask in reflected glory, but to forge her own path.


    In both the Narrow Sea War and the Dornish Rebellion, she had yed pivotal roles; her contributions were undeniable,manding respect from all.


    Aemond caught a glimpse of her intentions and hung his head in dismay.


    Bastard!


    He had thought himself clever, nning an alliance through marriage with House Baratheon to undermine House Swann.


    Yet, he hadn''t anticipated that his sister harbored ambitions far surpassing his own, daring to challenge Rhaenyra directly in for the Queen position.


    In a moment, Aemond thought of Daeron, that tireless bookworm, who have been cherished since his youth.


    "Is Aegon truly the only failure among us?"


    Aemond found himself feeling an unexpected sympathy for Aegon, the fool.


    Hena reached up, stroking his head in a gesture reminiscent of Rhaenyra''s affection for Rhaegar, her tone t, "Focus on the task at hand, and stop worrying about the chaos."


    Aemond blushed.


    After a moment, Hena abruptly stopped and withdrew her hand, her voice soothing as she spoke to a child, "Defend the city well, and you might just earn Stonehelm."


    Stonehelm was gaining importance and had the potential to develop into a significant harbor.


    Rhaegar intended to grant it to Aemond at his discretion.


    "Sister~"


    Aemond clung to the thought, his voice carrying a whine of expectation.


    Unperturbed, Hena sighed and turned away.


    She needed to return to her duties, leaving Aemond to ponder his future alone.


    Watching her depart, Aemond felt a pang of disorientation, almost as if his regret was physically imprinting itself upon his mind.


    He was beginning to regret his decisions.


    Had he known, he would have vied for Aegon''s favored position and embraced the family tradition alongside his sister.


    Now, it was toote.


    He was bound to Cassandra, while Aegon seemed simrly engaged.


    "Three blood brothers, and none of them likes me."


    Aemond dabbed at the corners of his eyes, feigning tears, and murmured, "Mother is blinded by ambition, enamored with the power of House Baratheon and that fool Aegon."


    If only he hadn''t been coerced into this engagement, he would still be free.


    Instead, he watched as his sister threw herself into Rhaegar''s arms, clearly having chosen her allies.


    Aemond clenched his teeth, "I am no less capable than the others."


    With that, he turned and strode outside.


    The war was far from over, and he was determined not only to secure Stonehelm but also to earn a reputation that would make an impression.


    ...


    The Red Mountains


    Stretching from east to west, the Red Mountains form a formidable barrier separating Dorne from the Stornds and the Reach.


    This mountain range extends from the north-northeastern edge of the Stornds near Cape Wrath, epassingndmarks such as Griffin''s Roost in Shipbreaker Bay and extending nearly to Storm''s End Castle.


    To the south, the Dornish Bordends are punctuated by the castles of the Bordends Lords, including the cities of ckhaven and Stonehelm. The ridge extends further northwest into the Rivends, where House Tarly''s domain, Horn Hill, is nestled in the foothills.


    Two main passes cut through these rugged heights: the Prince''s Pass and the Boneway. Currently, hordes of ragged Dornish refugees, disced and desperate, pour into the mountains, splitting at these passes in search of safety.


    Dorne''s tropical climate subjects its inhabitants to unrelenting heat and humidity. At the height of summer, the scorching sun and searing mountain paths take a heavy toll, iming the lives of the infirm and elderly.


    Without a hint of emotion, the survivors strip the deceased of their sun-bleached clothes - each item a potential lifeline against the cold mountain nights.


    The Boneway, also revered as the Stone Way, marks its entrance along the northern Dornish coast.


    Guarded by House Yronwood, lords of this critical passage, it weaves through Yronwood, approaching ckhaven in the north. Tens of thousands journey this route, their faces etched with the hardships of famine and forced expulsion from the more fertile oases by their merciless lords.


    These exiles, hopeful yet haggard, gaze upon the red-hued path of the Boneway, imagining it as a gateway to the Dornish bordends, where salvation - in the form of food - awaits.


    Amidst this exodus, a stark contrast emerges. A group of robust figures, not particrly tall but unmistakably sturdy, edges the procession.


    Each individual bears the fierce countenance of a warrior, a curved sword at their waist, and a crossbow concealed behind their back.


    Just a few dozen kilometers from ckhaven, these 5,000 strong split from the main group, organizing into five cohorts. They slip into the lesser-known paths of the Boneway.


    Compared to the Prince''s Pass, known as the "Great Pass," the Boneway had steep and treacherous terrain that made navigation difficult and dangerous.


    The paths were narrow and winding, essible only to the most skilled and daring. In the wider sections, only three people could walk side by side, while in the narrowest areas, a single person had to cling to the rock face to make progress.


    This secret route was known only to the Dornish bordends and the lords who dwelt within the mountains.


    "Can we really bypass ckhaven by taking this road?" questioned a brash man with mboyant hair, resembling a mercenary.


    "Save your breath. This road is tough," replied a man with ck hair and brown skin, his leather armor emzoned with the emblem of House Wyl—a ck viper biting a heel.


    The brash man snorted, "I don''t get you Dornish folks. Why choose this godforsaken path?"


    Were it not for the lucrativemission from Braavos, he would not have ventured here, even under coercion.


    The group, five hundred strong, moved through a deep, narrow path nked by sheer rock walls. The brash man, brushing against the hot stone, cursed, "If a Dragonlord''s came, we''d be roasted alive."


    The man from House Wyl halted and turned to stare at him. His thoughts mirrored the brash man''s fears. With the group stretched over five hundred meters, dragonfire could incinerate them from end to end.


    "What are you looking at?" snapped the brash man, unnerved by the scrutiny.


    "Keep your mouth shut and say something positive," the House Wyl man retorted sharply.


    A distinct uneasiness settled over the group as they continued.


    Hoo-


    Suddenly, a shadow blocked the searing sun.


    "What the hell!" the brash man eximed, crouching instinctively.


    The shadow circled back, revealing the immense form of a dragon, its silhouette darkening the secluded path.


    Hearts pounded as faces turned skyward in dread.


    "Roar"


    A thunderous dragon roar reverberated through the mountains, the sound waves echoing ominously.


    Boom-


    Golden dragonfire descended like a volcanic eruption, sweeping through the narrow passage from one end to the other, engulfing everything in its path.