"Craghas Drahar," Baelon smirked. Everyone near him got a chill seeing his visage. He glanced at the Crabfeeder and his men who were now tied up as the flames turned into smoke, leaving the environment dry.

"Did Dorne help the Triarchy?" He spoke, circling the Myrish Prince. The person in question did not reply opting to stay silent. 

Baelon clicked his tongue. It was fairly obvious that Dorne had been openly hostile to the Targaryen empire and had been trading with the Triarchy at heavy prices while raiding the lands north just to hide in their caves when Dragonriders would arrive. 

Maybe they thought helping the Triarchy so candidly would give them a discount in prices... or maybe they just did not care. 

After all, Dorne is quite a rich country despite its stereotype. Trade with Dorne would enable every part of his soon-to-be kingdom to enjoy the same riches, exotic spices... their Dornish Reds(Wine)... the famous 'Sand Steels' the most beautiful and strongest of all horses. 

Baelon shook his head, clearing all of his thoughts away. Instead, he unsheathed Blackfyre from his scabbard which led many of his soldiers to look at the legendary blade with awe.

He pointed it at the neck of the Crabfeeder before speaking in an indifferent tone. 

"Look, Craghas. I could care less if you speak or not, divulge information or not. You are to pay for the price of your actions, nevertheless. Both our men have suffered, mentally and spiritually. If you even care a bit for them, your brother in arms... then you will behave properly."

*Pfthooo!* 

The man grunted in response and spat on Baelon's face. 

Of course, the vampire prince saw it coming but did not bother to avoid it.

"You disappoint me. Firstly, you waged war over a useless strip of land with overly priced tolls... exhausted quite a bit of your own resources, and had to ally with Dorne... and you are patriotic to the point that you are willing to watch your men become food for my dragon."

The eyes of the soldiers beside Baelon trembled but they kept quiet. While a part of them felt conflicted, their blood boiled for revenge against the Triarch bastards, they had lost too many good years. 

Craghas Drahar glanced at the silver-haired prince with hatred in his eyes.

"Nākostōbā dārilaros, kostā daor mazverdagon nyke ȳdragon." (You can not make me or my men speak, sickly prince.)

Baelon nodded. "So be it." He turned towards the soldiers by his side before ordering them.

"Bring everyone aside from our brave crab feeder to Neltharion, I will personally look to it that he is fed well."

They nodded. A little confused but abided by his orders. In groups of twenties, the Triach soldiers were brought in front of the mighty dragon. 

Baelon walked towards them as a kind smile blossomed on his face. He glanced at a soldier with crescent eyes before speaking.

"Loosen the ropes."

He nodded slightly without questioning, he had seen enough of the Targaryen prince's greatness to question him.

"Yes, your highness."

Meanwhile, the Triarch soldiers were befuddled but not for long, with a cruel smile he brought down Blackfyre to judge their fates.

"Ah~! I missed. I was aiming for the heads." The Triarch soldiers looked in horror as the silver-haired prince collected the hands in his arms before tossing one into the air.

*CRUNCH!!!* 

As if a dog to a bone, the dragon relished the hands one by one, flying at the random spots where Prince Baelon was throwing. 

If it was not for the fact that the prince was smiling and laughing in joy as he threw the snacks for the dragon, one would have never thought how much of horror this was... especially for humans.

Seeing the unnaturalness of the situation made the surrounding humans feel an impending sense of doom. There was something very wrong with the aura prince Baelon had created.

It made them feel... as if their lives did not matter. It made them feel... as if they were nothing but lambs up for slaughter, nothing else but prey for a predator to feast upon and the smile on the Prince's face did not help to ease their worries.

However they were indebted to him, the prince had ended this war in a single night, much faster than the years they had spent on it. 

They could not help but feel bitter and wish that he would have come sooner or any dragon rider for that matter. 

Each and every one of them had strengthened a single idea, dragons were a force to be reckoned with. They were absolute. 

Now that they had seen Neltharion in its glory, it was not a surprise that Aegon conquered the entire of Westeros with a simple army of 3000 in just a period of 2 years. 

It did not take the silver prince much time to sheath his blade back in its scabbard, seemingly tired of playing around with his dragon. 

Instead, his next gesture made everyone dumbfounded. Instead of slowly cutting the body parts of the soldiers to give them as snacks, the dragon now dived deep to simply crunch their bodies away. 

The sound of bones cracking and flesh being torn apart echoed through the sky, and the smell of blood filled the air and left a stench that no one wanted to be near.

Many soldiers vomited by the side, disgusted by what they were seeing while some were traumatized and looked at the dragon with fear.

The Triarch soldiers especially were horrified at the sight of their former comrades being eaten alive by a monster and they knew they were next in line for this torturous death.

Baelon approached the Myrish Prince with slow steps as he grabbed him by the hair. 

"Do you like what you see?"

He did not reply, frozen in stature as he stared at his dying men. Baelon whispered in his ears.

"If you feed someone, you should be prepared to be fed too... I know I am."

Baelon then turned around with a smile as he looked at his men. 

"A dragon does not break his vow. I promised to have the crabs fed to my dragon... and so I have fulfilled it. Maybe I should be called Dragonfeeder haha."

The soldiers gulped their saliva while looking at the prince laughing at his own joke. They had not expected him to take his word this literally. 

Even after witnessing the gruesome scene... some could not help but laugh with him.

Baelon let go of the prince's hair and ordered his men to untie the rest of the prisoners. Something about a game of cat and mouse where the dragon would do the predating and the Triarch soldiers would run for their lives.

The last few of the Triarch soldiers that were still alive did not dare to move out of their place and looked at the dragon with fear, choosing to surrender to their fate and surprisingly... Prince Baelon let them leave with their lives although without body parts.

Something about spreading the word.

To the soldiers, he was truly an enigma that was difficult to figure out. 

Since the execution of the soldiers a night had passed, the first slumberous night of many to come. 

At dawn upon the commands of the prince, they were giving every soldier a proper burial, one which did not include digging a pit but rather death by the flames of Neltharion.

The prince had been working hard. Every soldier could see that and this made their admiration and respect for him deepen further. 

Night fell again and the soldiers had a feast with all the leftovers and wine they possessed. The mood was ambient and jolly and with that, they slept again through the darkness.

It was hard to get used to sleeping without having to stay alert but they were adapting to it, slowly but yes they were. 

It was dawn again and this time there were no more bodies to bury. 

Everyone sat behind the prince in the mud that was red and black as they watched the sun rise above the horizon, the rays shining through the clouds, filling the sky with warm light.

A soldier squeaked. It was the same soldier that wanted to sleep with Septas. Somehow he had survived this battle and his eyes seemed mature as if he had seen a lot of backstabbing.

"My prince... what are we to do now? We await your orders."

His voice broke the silence for a moment.

Prince Baelon smiled at them as he spoke.

"You go home. Back to your parents, siblings, wives, and children. Do not worry, all of you will be rewarded for your bravery. Visit Driftmark before leaving for your families."

There were cheers and applause from the soldiers as they murmured to each other with excitement. 

"LONG LIVE PRINCE BAELON!!!"

"LONG LIVE THE KING OF THE STEPSTONES AND THE NARROW SEA!!!"

Some of them started to cheer, others got teary-eyed, and some had to wipe away their tears. Some even tried to hug the prince, thanking him for saving them.

Although he had no crown, everyone recognized him as the King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea... and lastly the inheritor of the Iron Throne. There were no doubts.

This one battle had turned them into loyal followers of Prince Baelon and they were sure to spread his deeds of greatness far and wide across Westeros. 

However, the one person who had questioned the prince spoke again.

"My Prince, by your tone and wording... are you perhaps not coming with us? Back home."

He asked cautiously in hopes of not angering the prince. 

Baelon in question to the soldier simply stood up and climbed atop Neltharion. He smirked at the brave men before shaking his head. 

"It was an honor fighting alongside all of you."

Then the prince tilted his head to look at the blue skies. It was time to put an end to this matter. 

He knew his father had taken a rather diplomatic approach and was quite right in it... but the reason he could not fulfill bringing them into the fold was solely due to the Crown not having certainty. 

War would come at a heavy price.

However, no longer, Westeros had Baelon now, The Vampyre Dārilos... and so the silver-haired prince patted his dragon and commanded him to the unknown beyond the veil.

"Sōvegon Neltharion, to Dorne."

~ 

Power Stones?