A sharp dragon roar pierced the night sky as a stream of dragonfire, a mix of orange and sea-blue, shot down at the soldiers of House Bracken.
"Ahhh!"
"It's an ambush! Run!"
The dragonfire was immensely powerful, its scorching heat and explosive force beyond human endurance. The already outmatched soldiers of House Bracken were thrown to the ground in the chaos.
On the battlefield below, Samwell led his troops forward, cutting through the enemy ranks like a storm.
"Finish this quickly! Leave no one alive!"
Swords swung mercilessly, cutting down any soldier who dared to resist. Samwell's lean figure charged through the battlefield like a force of nature.
Above them, two dragons circled the sky, overseeing the one-sided slaughter.
Two thousand against three hundred—losing was nearly impossible.
In just twenty minutes, the skirmish was over.
Every last Bracken soldier lay dead. Those who fell were stabbed again to ensure none were feigning death.
"Let me go, you Blackwood dogs!"
With no soldiers left to protect him, Amos Bracken lay limp in a pool of blood, struggling weakly as the enemy soldiers dragged him away.
"Amos, we meet again!"
Samwell approached with a menacing glare and kicked Amos hard in the stomach, sending him sprawling.
"Argh! Damn you, Blackwood!"
Amos screamed in agony, clutching his abdomen as he writhed on the ground.
Breathing heavily, Samwell grabbed Amos by the hair, pressing a sword against his throat. He sneered, "Amos, I killed your brother. You won't escape either."
Amos' brother had been the previous Lord of House Bracken.
To curry favor with Rhaenyra, he had provoked the children of House Blackwood.
He was slain in a duel by a young Samwell.
"You bastard! If you have the guts, just kill me already!"
With death looming, Amos suppressed his fear, determined to meet his end with dignity.
"You think you have a choice?"
Samwell tightened his grip, ready to behead him.
"Wait! Hand him over to the prince."
Robb quickly intervened, stopping Samwell from delivering the final blow.
At the mention of Rhaegar, Samwell regained his composure and let out a cold laugh. "Killing him with a single strike would be too merciful."
He then kicked Amos again, venting his lingering frustration.
The feud between House Blackwood and House Bracken ran deep, and their personal vendetta only added fuel to the fire.
The soldiers cleaned up the battlefield and bound Amos tightly to a flagpole before marching toward the burning ruins of Stone Hedge.
---
### Elsewhere
Ser Trystane had gathered over a hundred commoners and stormed the Bracken castle.
Chaos erupted as they looted, smashed, and ransacked the place.
Soon, a dozen well-dressed noblemen and noblewomen were dragged out.
"Move it, you bastards!"
The commoners, driven by rage, hurled insults and struck them with fists and feet.
They were farmers who had been forced into the castle, their hearts filled with fear and resentment toward House Bracken.
If they could, they would have burned the place to the ground.
The captured Bracken nobles, their mouths gagged, could only groan and plead, which only earned them more blows.
And with that, House Bracken had fallen.
Rhaegar circled above on his dragon, Gorging, letting the night wind wash over him as he closed his eyes.
The Targaryens always kept their word.
If they vowed to end your bloodline, they would see it done.
---
### Half a Month Later
**King's Landing – Flea Bottom**
In the crowded marketplace, a wooden platform had been erected.
Leonor stood upon it, his arm still in a sling, pointing at the group of kneeling prisoners before him as he delivered an impassioned speech.
"House Blackwood waged war without royal permission, defying the king's orders..."
He rattled off a long list of accusations.
At the front of the kneeling group was a burly man with black hair—Lord Kearse Blackwood himself.
After finishing his indictment, Leonor declared, "Lord Kearse Blackwood is stripped of his title and sentenced to death by hanging!"
Then, turning to Kearse, he asked loudly, "Prisoner, do you accept this judgment?"
"Yes, my lord."
Kearse spoke with a low, solemn voice, his eyes closed. "But I do not wish to die immediately. I request permission to take the black and serve at the Wall."
The crowd murmured with interest, eager to see the fate of the fallen lord.
Leonor nodded and announced, "His Majesty grants your request."
A Kingsguard stepped forward, draping a black cloak over Kearse's shoulders before escorting him away from the execution grounds.
No one objected. No unexpected twists occurred.
This had been prearranged.
Kearse had accepted his punishment, and in exchange, House Blackwood ceded a portion of land near the Red Fork River.
In return, his eldest son, Samwell, was allowed to inherit his title and lands.
With the Blackwood matter settled, it was time to deal with House Bracken.
Leonor proceeded to list the Brackens' crimes.
They had waged war without royal consent, defied the king's command, conspired to assassinate Duke Glover and Hand of the King Leonor Strong...
They had engaged in blood sacrifice and violated the Widow's Law…
Their punishment was clear—total extermination.
Every man, woman, and child of House Bracken was executed, their heads impaled on spears along the city walls.
The ringleader, Amos Bracken, was deemed beyond redemption.
Stripped of his title and lands, he was paraded naked through the streets, whipped all the way to the Dragonpit.
Along the way, the common folk jeered, hurled insults, and pelted him with filth.
By the time he arrived, covered in grime and shame, Gorging was waiting.
A single breath of dragonfire reduced him to ashes.
Thanks to deliberate efforts to spread the story, the people of King's Landing soon learned of House Bracken's rebellion, their dark rituals, and their betrayal of the Crown.
They were cemented in history as traitors of the realm.
Meanwhile, Prince Rhaegar, the victorious commander, was celebrated as a hero.
The Red Keep
**In the Bedroom**
Rhaegar sat at his desk, head down, writing furiously.
**Knock, knock…**
The sound of knocking echoed, followed by Rhaenyra's voice.
"Rhaegar, I'm coming in."
With that, she pushed the door open and entered.
Compared to half a month ago, Rhaenyra looked even more radiant.
Her silver-gold hair flowed smoothly down her back, with delicate braids woven throughout.
She wore a fitted black dress that revealed her ankles, paired with exquisite red-bottomed heels.
Hearing the sound, Rhaegar lifted his head, revealing deep, dark circles under his eyes.
Looking at the stunning Rhaenyra, his vision blurred—one became three.
Supporting his face with one hand, he mumbled drowsily, "Rhaenyra, I think I'm a little dizzy."
"You're too exhausted; you need to rest."
With a helpless sigh, Rhaenyra pulled her younger brother onto the bed, making him lie down before gently massaging his head.
Rhaegar obediently closed his eyes, resting his head on his sister's soft, fair thighs, relishing the moment.
Since capturing Stone Hedge, he hadn't had a single day of peace.
He had to pacify the townspeople, disperse the residents gathered at the gates, and detain the remnants of House Bracken's forces.
For three straight days, he oversaw the extinguishing of the great fire in the inner keep, then sent people to clear the ruins and carve out a new road.
And that was just the beginning.
As an ancient noble house, House Bracken had several vassal and knightly families under its command.
Some had to be executed, while others needed to be brought into the fold.
The treasury, granaries, and tax records of House Bracken—anything related to wealth—Rhaegar had to personally review, ensuring every detail was accounted for.
It nearly killed him.
"Rhaenyra, if being king means dealing with this every day, I'd rather abdicate and let you take over."
Lying there like a lifeless fish, Rhaegar whined pitifully.
He was exhausted!
Even the rigorous cram-style education he endured as a child wasn't this tiring.
For a moment, he almost missed those two rambling old maesters with their nonsense lectures.
"Hmph, stop being so dramatic. No one else gets this worn out but you."
Rhaenyra chuckled, equal parts amused and sympathetic, as she tapped his nose.
Technically, these tasks weren't even Rhaegar's responsibility as the crown prince.
There were ministers in place to handle such affairs.
But House Bracken was an ancient and well-established noble house with deep roots.
Rhaegar didn't trust anyone else to handle it.
Transporting wealth and supplies, governing the now-lordless Stone Hedge—if he wasn't watching, the local nobility would interfere at every turn, seizing opportunities to line their own pockets.
Verifying assets, recording them meticulously—this should have been the job of Lord Lyman Beesbury, the Master of Coin.
But the old lord was aging, his energy waning, and his efficiency sorely lacking.
Rhaegar needed Stone Hedge, so he had no choice but to take matters into his own hands.
And that was with advisors assisting him—if he had to do everything alone, he'd be dead before his time.
After resting for a while, Rhaegar's headache subsided. He contentedly rubbed his face against his sister's smooth thighs.
**Now this** was the treatment a prince deserved.
Rhaenyra's lips curled into a satisfied smile, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
**This little brat, easily wrapped around my finger.**
**Totally worth the effort of dressing up.**
Rhaegar was well aware of her intentions, but he played along, happily indulging in the warmth.
Time passed in peaceful silence.
Then, Rhaenyra's bright eyes twinkled as she asked softly, "Rhaegar, you're putting so much effort into Stone Hedge—do you have something in mind?"
Unlike House Bracken, which had been utterly destroyed, House Blackwood had only lost a portion of its territory.
The direct bloodline of House Bracken had been completely wiped out, and their title, castle, and lands had all been seized by the crown.
Rhaegar turned onto his side, wrapping his arms around her soft thighs, and replied weakly, "You're right. I want to claim a domain for myself."
"But you're the heir. Your princely residence is still under construction."
Rhaenyra looked puzzled.
Rhaegar shook his head but said no more.
A princely residence was just that—a residence. It had barely any land, population, or resources to speak of.
No matter how grand, it was merely a palace for a prince to live in.
As the crown prince, his true fiefdom should be Dragonstone.
But Dragonstone had been granted to Rhaenyra, and he fully accepted that.
Still, he needed a rich and fertile land to serve as his own domain.
The Riverlands were a prime choice—close to the Crownlands, with fertile soil and a dense population.
Seeing that he wasn't willing to elaborate, Rhaenyra pinched his cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.
"Get some rest. There's still a victory feast tonight."
---
### **Nightfall**
The Red Keep was ablaze with light, and guests filled the halls.
Seated at the head of the banquet, Viserys laughed heartily, basking in the flattery and toasts of his courtiers.
The royal family, long dormant, had finally acted—annihilating an ancient Riverlands house in one swift move.
No matter how these nobles had once viewed the young king, they now had to acknowledge one thing:
With such a strong-willed heir, they needed to tread carefully and show the utmost respect.
After the toasts, the feast truly began.
To Viserys' left and right sat Rhaegar and Lyonel Strong.
Rhaegar spoke first.
"Lord Lyonel, I have something I'd like to discuss with you."
"Please, speak, my prince."
Lyonel held his goblet in one hand, his expression instantly turning serious.
Rhaegar hesitated briefly, exchanging a glance with his father.
Viserys smiled and nodded.
The two had already discussed this matter in advance—there was no issue.
With his father's approval, Rhaegar spoke solemnly, "Lord Lyonel, House Strong has served the realm faithfully, yet Harrenhal has been burned to the ground by rioters."
Lyonel took a sip of his wine, his brows furrowed in frustration.
Harrenhal had suffered extensive damage, and repairing it would require a vast fortune.
He had even been considering taking a loan from the Iron Bank.
Seeing this, Rhaegar had a good sense of the man's predicament and smiled.
"The castle of Stone Hedge remains intact. What do you think, my lord?"
(End of Chapter)