Lo Quen's gaze fell first on Young Aegon.
"Blackfyre, you've lost."
Young Aegon jerked his head up, glaring at Lo Quen. "Silence! I am Aegon Targaryen, son of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia, the sole legitimate heir to the Iron Throne, not some Blackfyre!"
"Legitimate heir?"
Lo Quen gave a soft chuckle. "Rumors about you have already spread across the Seven Kingdoms. Everyone says you're the son of Illyrio and a female descendant of the Blackfyre line."
"You're lying!"
Young Aegon struggled violently, but the Dragon Soul Guards behind him held him down with iron grips. "I have proof! I have Lord Connington's testimony! I have—"
"What you have is a dream stitched together with lies."
Lo Quen cut him off coldly. "Prince Rhaegar's son was brutally murdered by The Mountain when King's Landing fell. Many people can testify to that. As for you, you're nothing more than a Blackfyre of similar age."
"No! That's slander! This is your plot to seize the Iron Throne!" Young Aegon roared, his face flushed red.
Lo Quen no longer spared him a glance, turning instead to Harry Strickland. "Captain Strickland, the Golden Company has always been known for honoring its contracts. What do you think? Who are you truly loyal to: a true dragon returned from the dead, or a carefully constructed lie?
"I've already sent men to Pentos to arrest Illyrio. Even if you refuse to speak the truth, I'll make Illyrio talk. Captain Harry, are you really willing to wager the last shred of dignity you and the entire Golden Company have left on a dead lie and a truth that's about to come out?"
Harry Strickland pressed his lips together, his eyes filled with turmoil.
Yet memories of the Golden Company's honor surfaced, along with the vows passed down through generations.
He turned his head away. "I won't betray my employer."
Lo Quen seemed to see straight through him and let out a cold laugh. "Is that so? Not betraying your employer, or not betraying Blackfyre? Illyrio must have spoken to you long ago. After all, the Golden Company was founded by exiles from House Blackfyre."
"You've always longed to return home, longed for revenge. So when a Blackfyre appeared, disguised as a true dragon, you chose to chase that dream, even though it was riddled with holes, even though it was bound to be exposed. Am I wrong, Captain?"
Harry's body stiffened, his expression turning even darker.
Lo Quen's words tore straight through the facade and convictions he had struggled to uphold.
He did know the truth.
Both Illyrio and the late Myles Toyne had told him everything.
Young Aegon was a Blackfyre, not a true dragon.
Only a Blackfyre could lead the Golden Company.
But he could never admit it in public.
At that moment, Jon Connington suddenly raised his head and shouted hoarsely, "Don't listen to him! He's trying to drive us apart, he's—"
"Enough!"
Lo Quen snapped sharply. "No one asked you to speak!"
With a slight gesture, a Dragon Soul Guard beside him stepped forward and slammed a fist hard into Jon Connington's mouth.
"Thud!"
Jon Connington let out a muffled grunt as teeth and blood sprayed from his mouth. He staggered, nearly collapsing, his face instantly reduced to a bloody mess. Unable to speak, he could only glare at Lo Quen with eyes full of hatred and pain.
Lo Quen ignored him and turned back to the struggling Young Aegon. "Since you insist that you're of true dragon blood and refuse to believe you're a Blackfyre, then let's put it to the test. After all, true dragons fear no fire."
He knew perfectly well that the Targaryens possessed no such immunity to flame.
He had simply run out of patience.
Harry Strickland could keep his silence.
But Young Aegon would still die.
The moment the words left his mouth, Young Aegon's face drained of all color. The fury in his eyes was swallowed by overwhelming terror.
"No… no, you can't!"
He struggled wildly.
Even with blood spilling from his mouth, Jon Connington let out a hoarse, garbled roar, desperately trying to stop it.
The Dragon Soul Guards showed no mercy. They dragged Young Aegon toward Blooddancer, who lay crouched on the ground.
Blooddancer seemed to sense something and raised its massive head. Golden pupils regarded the thrashing little creature with curious interest.
"Burn him."
Lo Quen's voice rang out cold and flat, utterly devoid of emotion.
Blooddancer opened its enormous jaws, a terrifying crimson glow flaring deep in its throat.
"No—!!!"
Harry Strickland and Jon Connington cried out at the same time, their voices filled with utter despair.
Boom!!!
A torrent of searing red dragonfire burst forth, instantly engulfing Young Aegon.
He never even managed a scream. His body twisted and blackened in the unbearable heat, then crumbled into drifting ash, vanishing without a trace.
A deathly silence fell over the Redgrass Field.
Every noble present, friend and foe alike, turned pale.
The sheer horror of dragonfire etched itself deep into their souls.
Lo Quen watched the thin wisp of smoke with indifference and said calmly, "It seems this so-called true dragon really is afraid of fire."
His gaze shifted to Harry Strickland, his face ashen, and to Jon Connington, his mouth full of blood and his eyes hollow with despair.
"As for the two of you, who propped up a Blackfyre pretender and brought chaos to the Seven Kingdoms, your crimes are unforgivable. Especially you, Jon Connington. In pursuit of an enemy, you ordered Stoney Sept burned and its innocent people slaughtered. It's monstrous. What makes you any different from The Mountain? I hereby sentence you both to death!"
Jon Connington seemed to want to argue, to speak of his loyalty to Rhaegar and his dream of restoring the Targaryens, but his mouth was filled with blood and broken teeth. Only muffled sounds escaped him, his eyes blazing with unwillingness and frenzied hatred.
"Take them away. Let them be reunited with their king."
Lo Quen waved his hand.
The Dragon Soul Guards dragged the limp Harry and the struggling Jon before Blooddancer.
Another blast of scorching dragonfire followed. In an instant, the two once-prominent figures were reduced to charred remains and drifting ash.
All the nobles were deeply shaken by such iron-blooded ruthlessness.
Lo Quen's gaze slowly swept across the crowd, finally settling on Davos and the red priestess Melisandre standing at the front of Stannis's remaining troops.
A faint smile appeared on his face. "Lady Melisandre, we meet again."
Melisandre stepped forward and inclined her head slightly. "Your Grace, please forgive my sudden departure. The will of the Lord of Light guided me. I had to seek the prophesied prince, Azor Ahai reborn, the one destined to end the Long Night."
"Oh?"
Lo Quen raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Then tell me, my lady. Did you find him?"
A trace of disappointment flickered across Melisandre's face. She shook her head. "I once believed King Stannis Baratheon was the child of prophecy. But his death proved that R'hllor's visions did not point to him. The true prince is someone else. I need more time, more guidance, to find him."
There was a faint note of uncertainty in her voice. Her long-held faith seemed shaken.
Lo Quen nodded, noncommittal.
To him now, talk of a prophesied prince and the coming Long Night felt distant and insubstantial.
He had the System, dragons, and a powerful army. He believed everything was within his grasp.
The red priestess and her Lord of Light held no value to him.
Whether she ever found the prophesied prince had nothing to do with him.
Nor did he have any interest in keeping her imprisoned.
His gaze shifted to Davos Seaworth.
"Ser Davos, and the former followers of Stannis," Lo Quen said, "are you willing to swear loyalty to me?"
Some nobles, such as Lord Adrian Celtigar and Lord Moterys Velaryon, hesitated hardly at all.
Both were of Valyrian descent and held an instinctive reverence for dragons.
At the sight of the four mighty dragons under Lo Quen's command, their eyes even lit up.
They immediately dropped to one knee and swore loudly, "Your Grace, we are willing to serve you! From this day forward, we will fight for you and your dynasty!"
Davos Seaworth's face showed clear struggle.
He looked at the comrades who had already surrendered, then thought of the fallen Stannis.
At last, he drew a deep breath and stepped forward. "Your Grace, I am willing to swear loyalty to you, but I have one condition. Please guarantee the safety of Lady Selyse, King Stannis's widow, and his daughter Shireen. Let them live peaceful, ordinary lives, free from any persecution."
It was the last thing he could do for his former lord.
Lo Quen barely paused before answering readily, "Agreed. No problem. I give you my word that Selyse Florent and her daughter Shireen Baratheon will be treated in accordance with their status and allowed to live in peace."
Hearing this, Davos went down on one knee and bowed his head. "Davos Seaworth is at your service, Your Grace."
Lo Quen nodded in satisfaction, then turned his attention to the Dornish nobles.
Led by Anders Yronwood, the Dornish lords, whether already brought over by Yronwood or having surrendered when Sunspear fell and the army closed in, now knelt decisively and declared their allegiance.
At this point, the North, the Vale, Dorne, and the remnants of Stannis's forces had all largely submitted.