Chapter 79: The Surrender of Dorne
"That's why I've always said the army is useless." Lord Randal Cafferen watched as eight winged dragons soared into the sky, and couldn't help but say to Lord Aslan Longdel beside him, "These eight dragons are enough to withstand an army of 100,000."
Vhagar flew so slowly that the other dragons quickly overtook her, making Prince Aemond repeatedly shout, "Faster! Faster!"
Vermithor's scorching golden dragonflame poured down, instantly incinerating the first row of infantry, then the second, and the third. The most elite warriors of House Yronwood were less than snowmen under the dragonflame.
"Don't panic!" King Lewyn rolled off his warhorse. He knew that at this moment, he absolutely could not expand his target. He could only try his best to prevent the dragons from deliberately targeting him. Lewyn took a crossbow from a nearby crossbowman and shouted, "Aim for the rider, kill the dragonrider, and the dragon will naturally retreat."
The archers drew their bowstrings, but they faced Vermithor, who had finished a wave of dragonflame and flown high, followed closely by three more dragons.
Sunfyre was the youngest and fastest. This magnificent young golden dragon swept over the Dornish lines, showering golden flames over the positions. The long line of fire directly penetrated the Dornish infantry formations, and the cavalry were fleeing.
The moment the dragon appeared, not a single horse dared to stay in this pass. Syrax followed closely, also spewing scorching dragonflame, which, along with Caraxes's blood-red flames, burned around the Dornish army, engulfing Dorne's forces in flames in the blink of an eye.
Vhagar finally arrived, and with her, Vermithor returned to the battlefield. The two colossal beasts blocked the sun, and flames that could melt rock poured down from the sky like a river.
It was already a miracle that the Yronwood infantry had held out until now.
And it was just a miracle. The moment Vhagar and Vermithor's dragonflames rained down, the Yronwood army collapsed. No one wanted to stand there and wait to be roasted into charcoal, especially when the archers in the ranks were taken out by a single breath of dragonflame from Vermithor.
"Your Grace, run!" Ser Arthur Sand, the bastard of House Yronwood, with a face covered in ash, led over a warhorse—one of the few that hadn't fled in panic. "Yronwood City…"
"Those are eight dragons." Lewyn looked despairingly at the black shadows in the sky. Red, gold, yellow, and pale flames scattered everywhere across the entire pass. There were people covered in fire everywhere, and ash everywhere.
"One dragon made 'Blackheart' Harren Hoare and his House vanish into thin air. Yronwood City is in no way comparable to Harrenhal," Lewyn murmured, regretting why he hadn't agreed to Prince Tigaro's terms when he left.
It would have only required a portion of land and the cession of coining rights to the Iron Throne, plus a kneel that would cause no actual harm, to gain half of Dorne's territory. Why did it come to this?
"There is no 'Your Grace.'" Lewyn touched the crown on his head; this crown was given to him by House Varezes. "After today, whether House Yronwood still exists depends on whether the Dragon King is merciful."
Shadow Nightmare flew through the air. Ray enjoyed feeling the wind against his cheeks, blowing his hair high. His High Valyrian commands were quite fluent, even better than those of several princes. Shadow Nightmare let out an unpleasant hiss as a crossbow bolt, seemingly from nowhere, struck its body, then bounced off its skin and scales, which were as hard as bone.
This was also Shadow Nightmare's special characteristic: not only did it fly fast, but its seemingly scrawny body was actually exceptionally tough. Ray described it as "bones growing on the outside of its body." It relied on this "hard hide" when playing with the other smaller dragons, causing them to grimace.
Thin, pale flames shot into the inferno, exploding with a roar upon impact.
Perhaps Ray didn't even notice what his breath attack hit, but Lewyn would remember this moment forever.
The pale flames exploded directly above his head, fusing Ser Arthur Sand and his golden Dornish High King's crown together in the fire forever.
The last sound the fleeing Yronwood soldiers heard was the thunderous hooves of the borderlands cavalry.
One dragon after another landed around the ruins of Skyreach. The eight dragonriders simultaneously looked down at the silent Prince Corwin Martell and his retainers.
"Princess, Your Highness," Prince Corwin finally spoke, "is our agreement still valid?"
"The terms for House Martell were proposed by my father, Prince Corwin. You should be grateful that my merciful and tolerant father still sits on the Iron Throne, not my valiant husband. These are already the best terms. Kneel in submission, accept the territory, offer hostages, my son Prince Joffrey will be betrothed to Lady Alexandra, and grain from the Reach will be supplied to eastern Dorne through the Prince's Pass and by sea. At that time, the connection between the Iron Throne and Sunspear will also be closer. I believe you cannot find more favorable terms."
Prince Daemon sat on the dragon saddle, smiled, and said nothing. It was Prince Aemond, whose smile had not yet faded, who immediately showed a hint of worry and dissatisfaction.
"Your mercy is like the Holy Mother in heaven," Prince Corwin bowed his head.
For the first time in a hundred years.
Dorne's sun, the proud prince of House Martell, took off his crown and knelt before the eight dragons.
His longsword was plunged into the ground before him, and behind him were the vassals who had submitted to House Martell. This war had harmed them no less than the Conquest War of old.
The Albin family of Godsgrace had only one heir left, the Toland family of Ghost Hill had only one married woman left, the Vance family of Vance City lost their heir and several male members, the Dalt family of Lemonwood lost their patriarch, and the Qorgyle family of Sandstone and the Uller family of Hellholt disappeared forever into the yellow sands of Dorne.
The vassals all knelt and offered their longswords. More than pride, they needed rest and bread.
Everyone was tired of fighting.
Before this, Albin had already removed his crown under his sister's coercion and bent his knee to the Iron Throne's envoy.
After a hundred years, Dorne finally returned to the rule of the Iron Throne.
House Varezes also swallowed a fertile and rich part of this land: the entire Prince's Pass, half of the Blaymont Valley, the entire Stone Road, the entire Red Mountains, and most of the Yronwood lands were all devoured by the Silver Dragon.
It would take a good while to digest.
The dragons left contentedly, and the Varezes retainers immediately set about building castles and villages in their new territories.
Conquest may be swift, but rule often takes generations.
Fifth watch completed, off to meet the deadline.
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