Chapter 53: The Rose and the Hunter
Early the next morning, watching the distant shadows of the two dragons disappear into the sky, Lord Royce Caron finally breathed a sigh of relief. His second son, Ser Desmond Caron, and his niece, Tiya Caron, stood beside him.
"Tiya, didn't I tell you…" Ser Desmond growled at Tiya, somewhat disappointed as he watched the dragons vanish into the clouds. "Why did you…"
"I'm sorry, Cousin," Tiya said, lowering her head. "But I really couldn't… I woke up in my own bed."
"Enough." Royce interrupted his son before his temper could flare again. "Such foolish behavior. Do not try to anger the Dragon Prince; it will bring no benefit to our House."
He gently stroked Tiya's head.
"Well done, good girl. Don't worry, I will compensate you."
The lord rolled his eyes at Desmond before turning back toward the castle with Tiya without another glance.
Desmond stood there stunned for a moment.
Wasn't this your idea in the first place? Why am I the one taking the blame?
The second son knight angrily spat on the ground before turning and walking toward the castle gate.
The wind from the Red Mountains blew through the towers, producing a strange whistling sound.
Perhaps it came from cracks left by a siege decades—or even centuries—ago. In any case, it was far less pleasant than the legends claimed.
Of course, Prince Dragonzel and Prince Jacaerys could not hear any of this.
Horn Hill
Horn Hill was a fortress nestled among forested hills.
A clear green lake reflected the castle's shadow, making the place appear both dangerous and beautiful. Dense forests surrounded this western stronghold.
Every year Lord Donald Tarly organized several grand hunts. These hunts were used both to train soldiers and to supplement the food supply of the surrounding villages.
Throughout the Realm it was well known that the people of House Tarly were excellent hunters.
This region was also famous for producing some of the finest longbowmen in the Seven Kingdoms.
Perhaps the constant hunting was the reason House Tarly had so many skilled archers.
"Apologies, Ser. My father and mother are currently in the hills preparing to welcome Prince Dragonzel and Prince Jacaerys."
Lady Sansala Tarly, her beautiful reddish-brown hair flowing down her back, stood before the envoy who had already been waiting for some time.
"Harlon Tyrell, my lady. It is an honor."
The envoy from Highgarden, a cousin of the current Lord Tyrell, bowed slightly.
"I have come precisely for this matter."
"The Prince's grand tour will pass through Highgarden, Ser."
Sansala pushed open the doors of the main hall, gesturing politely for Harlon to sit.
"You did not need to arrive so early."
"Your father's castle is safe enough, my lady."
Harlon straightened his clothes, revealing the golden rose of House Tyrell embroidered beneath his cloak.
"Highgarden is vast. Not everything there is a rose."
"Ser, perhaps I speak too bluntly," Sansala said calmly as she stood.
"But when the hunter dances with the dragon, if the rose wishes to step onto the stage, it must pay a price."
"I understand, my lady," Harlon replied frankly.
"But you also know what pressure House Tyrell will face if House Tarly leaves its service."
The truth was simple.
House Tyrell's position in the Reach was never as secure as the other great houses.
In the Reach, one could throw a stone and strike a descendant of Garth Greenhand.
Many powerful and ancient houses still believed they possessed a stronger claim to rule the Reach than the Tyrells.
Among those many lords, House Tarly had always been considered one of the most loyal vassals of Highgarden.
Now even that loyal house might leave.
And yet House Tyrell had no legitimate reason to prevent it.
This was precisely why the Tyrells felt so uneasy.
"You should discuss such matters with my father," Sansala replied with a faint smile.
"The Prince and Prince Jacaerys will arrive soon upon their dragons. Perhaps you may request that they uphold justice."
Seeing Sansala skillfully change the subject, Harlon hurried to bring it back.
"Lady Sansala, to my knowledge, you are also among the candidates for a marriage alliance with Prince Dragonzel. If possible, House Tyrell is willing to offer you full support. You would only need to—"
"Ser."
Sansala's voice suddenly turned cold.
"I will remind you one final time. Do not attempt clever games when the hunter dances with the dragon."
"The hunter will draw his bow and strike."
"And the dragon's fury can turn fertile green fields into a wasteland."
Realizing that Sansala would not yield, Harlon immediately lowered his head.
"My apologies, my lady. I was presumptuous. Please forgive me."
Sansala ignored him entirely and walked out of the hall.
The Tarly guards stationed at the entrance also cast Harlon disdainful glances, leaving him alone in the quiet chamber.
Harlon Tyrell stared blankly at the empty hall.
After a moment, he sighed deeply.
"Old-fashioned Tarly… rule-bound Tarly… heh. Seven save us."
He withdrew his gaze and looked up at the ornate ceiling.
"Everlasting indeed…"
The dragons slowly descended into the hills.
Perhaps satisfied with the hospitality at Nightsong, neither dragon appeared very hungry.
They barely glanced at the deer and goats brought by House Tarly.
Lord Donald Tarly looked somewhat awkward as he watched the dragons ignore the food. He could only cast a pleading glance toward Prince Dragonzel, who had just climbed down from his saddle.
Dragonzel pressed his ear gently against Vermithor's massive scales, listening for a moment to the dragon's breathing.
Then he turned back toward Lord Tarly.
"Vermithor is not very hungry yet. But please leave the food here. We will be troubling you for several days during our stay at Horn Hill."
Dragonzel patted the great dragon's neck with a smile.
"Vermithor has a tremendous appetite, and Vermax is still growing. I'm afraid we will need your help arranging their meals."
"It is our honor, Your Highness."
Lady Jane Rowan, the wife of Lord Tarly, stepped forward and bowed gracefully.
Then she offered a respectful greeting to Prince Jacaerys as well.
"Your Highness, welcome to Horn Hill."
"Lady Jane, it is we who should offer thanks," Dragonzel replied.
Both he and Jacaerys returned the greeting with a respectful hand-to-chest salute.
Seeing that his wife had already handled the formal etiquette, Lord Tarly finally stepped forward.
"Your Highness, at the end of the month I will need to travel again to the Stone Way to relieve Lord Edric. The peasant levies must rotate so they can return home for the harvest."
"Donald."
Lady Jane tugged gently on her husband's sleeve, clearly irritated.
"The Prince has come here to rest—and to discuss a marriage alliance. Must you bring battlefield matters into the hall as well?"
"Lady Jane, it is quite alright."
Dragonzel raised a hand to stop her from scolding Lord Tarly.
"I apologize, Your Highness," Donald Tarly said seriously. "But this matter is important. Lord Lewyn Yronwood is preparing a two-pronged attack against Skyreach and Godsgrace. If House Yronwood wins a major victory, they will gain overwhelming momentum. That would be extremely unfavorable for us."
"I am aware."
Dragonzel walked with the Tarly family toward Horn Hill.
The distance was short enough that they did not bother with horses.
"Tigaro is already handling the situation. Our forces will continue disrupting the balance within Dorne."
"Tigaro is too young," Lord Tarly insisted.
"He is not a warrior. He cannot judge the flow of battle as a seasoned commander would. Your Highness, we must immediately weaken House Yronwood's momentum."
"Perhaps we should strike Kingsgrave. Most of House Manwoody's forces are currently stationed at Prince's Pass."
"Lord Tarly," Dragonzel replied calmly, tapping the hilt of his Silver Blood sword, "I am more inclined to allow Lewyn Yronwood's pride to grow unchecked."
"The proud lords of Yronwood cannot sustain two battlefields at once. Even if House Martell suffers some losses, a proud army will eventually fall."
Lord Tarly nodded slowly.
"Your wisdom is admirable, Your Highness."
"But we must also prepare for every possibility," Dragonzel continued.
"Dorne cannot be conquered in a single victory. One must take it step by step."
"The hunter will bring victory," Lord Tarly declared solemnly.
"This is the hunter's honor."
The crimson swift hunter upon the green banner fluttered in the wind.
The long welcoming procession gradually entered Horn Hill Castle beneath those banners.
"Father. Mother."
Sansala had already been waiting at the castle gate for a long time.
"Your Highness. Prince."
She curtsied respectfully to the princes before quietly whispering something to Lord Tarly.
"Why is he here?"
Lord Tarly frowned in surprise.
"This matter concerns my family and the Varezes family."
"Father," Sansala whispered quietly, "until you kneel and swear fealty to the Prince, House Tyrell remains your liege."
"Ser Harlon is still the envoy of your liege lord."
"Your Highness," Lord Tarly said quietly to Dragonzel as they reached the hall doors, "we may have an unexpected complication."
"Ser Harlon Tyrell is also here. I am not entirely certain why he came."
The doors of the main hall slowly opened.
Inside, Harlon Tyrell stood waiting respectfully.
"For your cause, Your Highness… and for the good of the Realm."
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