The broad-leaf forest had few vines or thorny bushes.
Rhaegar rolled down the hillside and scrambled toward Harrenhal, stumbling and crawling.
He knew the terrain and the woods near the castle well, there he could set an ambush.
Thunk!
An arrow struck the tree trunk beside him.
Rhaegar ignored it and kept running until he reached the outer edge of the pear orchard forest, then dove into a pit overgrown with weeds.
"Quick! After him!" the scar-faced mercenary shouted.
"Don't let him reach Harrenhal alive! If he does, we're all dead!"
The man knew exactly what would happen if Rhaegar got back to the castle.
They had been able to enter Harrenhal only because Rhaena welcomed all travelers.
If Rhaegar returned, the gates would shut forever.
After that, they would face royal warrants and endless hunts by knights.
Rhaegar lay in the pit, listening carefully.
As expected, the dog hadn't followed.
The earlier battle had terrified the animal.
It had tucked its tail, defecated in fear, and refused to move even when the scar-faced man dragged it.
Once the mercenaries left and everything quieted down, the dog began gnawing on the corpse of the fallen mercenary.
The mercenaries shouted to each other while following Rhaegar's trail.
Their footsteps grew closer to the pit.
Rhaegar crouched with his sword ready, prepared to burst through the weeds and strike.
But not far away, where Rhaegar couldn't see-
three small lights were approaching from the direction of Harrenhal.
Rhaegar had fought the duel right in front of the three elderly soldiers, then ran out of the castle to hunt the mercenaries.
They knew they lacked the ability to stop him.
Rhaena had scolded them furiously and then waited in the hall with every servant, hoping Rhaegar would return.
Hours passed.
Still no sign of him.
Finally, the three guilt-ridden veterans suggested searching for him.
To the west and south lay Gods Eye Lake.
Four cooks grabbed kitchen knives and searched east.
The three old soldiers took swords and went north.
The approaching footsteps suddenly stopped.
The six mercenaries seemed to have halted.
Rhaegar remained hidden, ready to ambush them.
The mercenaries hid in the dark forest.
The three old soldiers walked nearby with torches, scanning the trees.
They had no idea that six bows were aimed directly at them.
Three screams suddenly echoed.
They were voices Rhaegar had heard since childhood.
He knew them instantly.
"That bastard is hiding here!"
A mercenary shouted and fired an arrow toward Rhaegar.
Rhaegar raised his sword to protect his face.
He ignored the arrows striking his body and charged forward in fury.
One swing split the mercenary's chest open.
The man kicked Rhaegar to the ground and turned to flee,
But after two steps Rhaegar leapt up and cut off his head from behind.
More arrows rained toward him.
But now Rhaegar felt no pain.
Earlier he had fought calmly.
Now rage consumed him.
There was only one thought in his mind:
Kill them all.
Another mercenary dropped his bow and drew his sword as Rhaegar rushed forward.
His blade pierced through Rhaegar's abdomen.
At the same moment-
Rhaegar's sword pierced his heart.
"Four left!"
Rhaegar roared and charged again through the forest.
Arrows continued flying around him.
Soon the mercenaries ran out of arrows.
Run.
They didn't even wait for the scar-faced man's order.
Anyone seeing a warrior who had been turned into a porcupine of arrows yet still kept fighting would think the same thing.
Run.
"You four bastards!"
The mercenaries fled through the woods.
The hunters had become the hunted.
"Come back! Come kill me if you dare!"
But even with stamina boosting him, Rhaegar's shorter legs couldn't outrun grown men.
They began escaping his reach.
"Come back!"
"You must die!"
"You die tonight!"
As the four figures disappeared deeper into the forest, Rhaegar screamed curses with bloodshot eyes.
Suddenly-
WHOOSH!
The thick forest canopy ahead was sliced flat.
A violent wind scattered leaves everywhere.
Tree trunks as thick as a man's waist collapsed in rows.
ROOOOAAARR!
A dragon's cry echoed across the plains of Harrenhal.
Not a low rumble.
A true dragon roar, sharp, violent, filled with fury.
Golden-red dragonfire surged into the forest.
A wall of flame dozens of meters long erupted.
A second blast swept across the ground.
A third blast shattered trees and sent fire soaring skyward.
The dragon's pale blue scales reflected the red glow of the flames.
The ground trembled as it stepped forward.
With just two strides it reached the scar-faced mercenary.
The enormous jaws opened, sword-like teeth touching the man's body.
The mercenary closed his eyes and waited to die.
But the teeth never pierced him.
Perhaps the smell of the fear-soaked filth in his pants disgusted the dragon.
Slowly he opened his eyes.
Everyone who passed Harrenhal knew Dreamfyre.
The man collapsed to his knees, shaking violently.
Facing the dragon's back, he cried out again and again:
"Princess Rhaena, please spare me!"
"Please spare me!"
He knelt and begged desperately.
Even knowing death was certain, he clung to the smallest hope.
A burning tree trunk shifted.
Rhaegar stepped through the flames, sword in hand, walking slowly toward him.
The mercenary suddenly realized something.
There was no saddle on Dreamfyre.
No rider.
Only Rhaegar.
Covered in arrows.
A sword still lodged in his abdomen.
His body still burning.
Walking toward him.
"You… what kind of monster are you?!"
Rhaegar stopped five meters away.
He glanced at Dreamfyre.
Then pointed his sword at the man.
"Dracarys."
Dragonfire exploded forward.
The mercenary and the surrounding trees ignited instantly.
Rhaegar watched until the man turned to black charcoal—
Then finally to white ash.
When the last mercenary died, the tension finally broke.
Pain flooded Rhaegar's body.
He staggered to a fallen log and sat down.
Then began pulling the arrows out of his body.
The burning forest felt pleasant to Dreamfyre.
It felt pleasant to Rhaegar too.
His armor, clothes, and trousers had burned away.
He sat naked on the burning log.
"...Hnn!"
Gripping the sword hilt, he slowly pulled the blade from his abdomen.
The pain made his whole body tremble violently.
Yet the flames did not burn his flesh.
Instead, the fire surged toward the five-clawed mark on his left shoulder.
The brand absorbed the flames.
Its color shifted from dark red to glowing gold.
The fire around him no longer felt hot.
The veins around the brand bulged.
Blood flowed beneath the skin like molten lava, glowing red.
Rhaegar's wounds began healing visibly.
Finally only faint red scars remained.
The brand, after absorbing the flames, was repairing his body.
"True dragons do not fear fire."
Rhaegar knew he had no relation to true dragons.
Nor did he share the mental bond that Targaryens had with dragons.
Even as a child he had noticed that Dreamfyre, Vermithor, and Silverwing seemed unusually interested in him.
Later he realized the truth.
They weren't attracted to him.
They were sniffing the dragon-claw brand on his shoulder.
After awakening his HP bar and stamina bar, Rhaegar began experimenting.
He discovered that the mark could absorb ordinary fire while roasting meat.
He had even dared climb onto Dreamfyre's back once.
For now, the mark could absorb only normal flames.
As for the legendary wildfire or dragonfire hot enough to melt steel-
Rhaegar wasn't foolish enough to test that.
Maybe one day he could survive such heat.
But not yet.
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