Aemon, Aemond, and Helaena, with their three dragons, arrived safely at Whitegrove.
It was less a castle and more of a large, fortified manor.
A towering spire of white marble stood at its center, surrounded by various outbuildings. A vast fence encircled the entire perimeter.
Groves of fruit trees were planted in neat rows, and acres of melons and other fruits covered the ground.
Unfortunately, many of the paths had been trampled, and a significant portion of the crops were damaged.
"Unwin Peake must have fled in a great hurry," Aemon frowned, looking at the rotting produce.
His mother had taught him from a young age that wasting food was a shameful act.
Did Unwin not have a mother to teach him the same?
"It's hard to find such good fruit in King's Landing," Aemond said, looking at a large, rotting watermelon with regret.
People who grow up being ridiculed often develop a greater sensitivity.
He certainly appreciated easily available food, and being around Aemon had made him adopt his cousin's perspective.
Helaena said nothing. She simply bent down, plucked a ripe cantaloupe, and took a gentle bite.
Crunch!
It was sweet, crisp, and juicy. What a fine melon, she thought.
The descent of three dragons sent Whitegrove into a panic.
When Aemon pushed open the iron-barred gate, the servants within the manor stood guard, armed with pitchforks.
This was even worse than at Dunstonbury; there were not even any proper guards.
"Unwin is a man of some character, to abandon such a fine domain so readily," Aemon said, his murderous intent only intensifying.
He had to crush this man, once and for all.
"Who are you?" a plump maid demanded, clutching a rolling pin, her face pale with nervousness.
Aemon did not make things difficult for them. He simply raised his personal banner.
There was no resistance, no commotion.
Atop Whitegrove's slender tower, the banner of the red dragon quartered with the falcon was raised.
As they were leaving the manor, Aemond, feeling gloomy, found an opportunity to ask, "Will this belong to our family from now on?"
He wanted to know if Whitegrove now belonged to Aemon.
"The Vale is primarily for cultivation, but its soil is not as fertile as the Reach's," Aemon admitted generously.
Aemond couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment.
"Open your eyes. The Reach is our family's new backyard," Aemon chuckled, exuding an air of calm confidence.
Just a single castle like Whitegrove was nothing.
Aemond was captivated by his cousin's demeanor, his mouth agape as if something were stuck in his throat.
A castle... used as a fruit farm?
"Remember, you are Targaryens," Aemon said, climbing onto his dragon's back. He had passed through Whitegrove as if it were a roadside tavern.
Aemond's eyes flashed as he saw the Sheep-Thief picking through the melon patch.
Helaena said nothing, but bent down and picked another small melon. This time, she didn't eat it but tucked it away in her pocket.
She would eat it later.
Starpike.
The castle was located on the Dornish border, built upon a cliff. Towering walls surrounded it, leaving only a single steep mountain road connecting it to the outside world.
Anyone who saw it would praise its defensibility.
At this moment, its lord, Unwin Peake, was in a state of panic.
"Damn it! I never should have allied with Mund Hightower!"
Unshaven and disheveled, Unwin sat sprawled on the lord's throne, his eyes filled with resentment.
Empty wine bottles were piled at his feet. He was trying to numb his anxiety with alcohol.
News of Mund's execution, the dismantling of House Hightower, and Lord Thaddeus's ascension as Warden of the South had spread throughout the Reach.
It had, of course, reached him as well.
Reading between the lines, Unwin suspected the Prince Regent harbored some hidden agenda.
He had completely upended the power structure of the Reach.
House Hightower, once at its peak, had been dismantled without a second thought.
He knew he was in danger. The attack on Dunstonbury a few days ago had only confirmed his suspicions.
The royal family was making a move against the Reach lords. The Hightowers were the first target, and those who had joined their rebellion would be dealt with one by one.
"Someone!" Unwin, growing increasingly frightened, shouted.
"My lord," a young squire came running in.
"Send Ser Mervyn to me!" Unwin's eyes were bloodshot.
Mervyn Flowers was his bastard brother, his most trusted subordinate, and his most capable lieutenant.
"Yes, my lord." The squire hurried away.
Unwin paced, still feeling uneasy. He called for the maester to bring him parchment and a quill.
He would write a letter to the king, expressing his regret and begging for forgiveness.
As a token of his sincerity, he would offer one of his castles to Prince Aemond.
"Yes, King Viserys will be pleased," Unwin said, shaking the finished letter.
The king was a soft-hearted man. He thought such a sycophantic gesture could win him some favor.
"Feed the ravens. See that this flies to King's Landing with all speed," Unwin instructed the maester.
The maester was a diligent middle-aged man who went about his duties without complaint.
Unwin was pleased with him. Maesters were useful tools.
As the maester left, Ser Mervyn Flowers arrived, a lean man with the same hooked nose and triangular eyes as his half-brother.
"Mobilize the troops," Unwin commanded. "We will be ready for anything."
Two days later.
Before the raven could even reach King's Landing, the army led by Lord Donnel Tarly arrived at the gates of Starpike.
The army was completely silent, the only sound the occasional snort of a warhorse.
"Princess, Prince, when shall we attack?" Lord Donnel asked, tilting his head toward the royal siblings.
Helaena said, "...Now, how about that?"
Aemond was nervous, his mind racing, but his statement came out as a question.
Aemon wasn't here. He had said Starpike did not require his personal intervention, leaving it to the siblings to handle.
"Of course, Prince," Lord Donnel replied seriously.
"I'll ride the Sheep-Thief and provide suppression from the air," Aemond assured him, patting his chest.
Lord Donnel smiled noncommittally. He assigned men to protect the princess while the prince mounted his dragon, then directed his infantry to begin the siege.
He was quite fond of the second prince. Aemond was honest, hardworking, and in need of encouragement.
"Perhaps it would be better if Samantha and the second prince could be engaged," Lord Donnel thought silently.
He quickly shook his head. A marriage to Prince Aegon was not even guaranteed; he should not be so greedy.
Praise the Seven for the bountiful Queen Alicent. She had raised three healthy princes, and for the first time, the royal bloodline flourished, providing more opportunities for the great houses.
The structure of the Seven Kingdoms was quietly shifting.
Half an hour later, the siege began.
"Rolling stones! Hot oil!" Mervyn Flowers commanded from the ramparts.
WHOOSH—
A vast, pale blue dragon swooped down from the clouds.
"Hiss!"
Dreamfyre spread her wings, gliding over the walls and unleashing a cascade of orange-yellow dragonflame.
"Dragon!"
"Get down!" the soldiers cried in terror.
"Do not lie down! Fight back!" Mervyn screamed, grabbing a soldier and shoving him back to the wall.
"Hiss!"
A second, sharper dragon roar echoed as a massive, muddy-brown dragon flew overhead.
Mervyn's face paled.
Boom! A splatter of brownish dragonflame, like a glob of molten mud, slammed down on his head. His vision went black.
"Ser Mervyn is dead!"
The surrounding soldiers scattered as they saw their commander's head and chest burned through.
The Reach had forgotten the terror of dragons. Sunfyre's battle at the Mander had brought back that fear, and the sight of two more dragons robbed them of all will to resist.
Boom! Boom!
Dreamfyre's sleek form danced in the air, relentlessly bombarding the walls. Aemond, atop Vhagar, could not intervene.
He could only stare, his eyes wide, as the silver-haired girl on Dreamfyre's back charged recklessly into the fray.
Dusk.
Vermithor lay sprawled in the courtyard of Starpike, his copper-foil pupils watching as bodies were carried away.
Inside the castle, Aemon held his sword, its blade pointed at the back of Unwin Peake's neck.
"Prince, spare me," Unwin, bound and on his knees, pleaded.
When the castle was breached, he had tried to escape through a secret passage, but Aemon, soaring high on the Bronze Fury, had easily spotted him.
"Have you found the Peake family's vault?" Aemon asked Lord Donnel.
"In the crypt, Your Highness." The family possessed a vast fortune.
"Excellent." Aemon raised his sword and struck.
Unwin's wails were cut short. A generation of treachery ended with his head dropping to the ground.
Aemon flicked his sword clean, looked back at his cousins, and asked calmly, "How do you feel?"
At the moment of the blow, Helaena shuddered and quickly turned away.
Aemond looked stunned, not expecting his cousin to kill the man so easily.
But soon, a smile curled on his lips. He admired this side of Aemon.
"You'll get used to it," Aemon said. "A true dragon cannot be afraid of blood."
"Prince, the surrendered soldiers have been apprehended," Lord Donnel reported.
Aemon nodded, ordered dinner to be prepared, and went to wash up.
During the meal, bad news arrived from Horn Hill.
There was unusual activity at the Prince's Pass, suspected to be Dornish scouts.
Aemon became alert. He interrogated the captured soldiers from Starpike, who confirmed that the Dornish border had been uneasy recently.
"It seems the Dornish have seen our civil unrest as an opportunity to exploit," Lord Donnel said shrewdly.
"We shall see," Aemon was not panicked in the slightest.
If Prince Qoren was not afraid of death, then let him come and fight.
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