Chapter 93 - The Ruins of the Dreadfort (VI)

Chapter 93 - 93 - The Ruins of the Dreadfort (VI)"Watch your words, I can be a generous person, but I can also be quite cruel when I want to be." Aenar Targaryen, in front of the Lord and Lady of the North.

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Holding Ramsay's head, Aenar looked at the ruins of the Dreadfort, still consumed by red flames, and nodded, satisfied. He had killed all the guards of House Bolton for obvious reasons. The only people he had ordered out of the castle were the women, women who had been forced to practically become sex slaves.

What he saw in the dungeons of the Dreadfort would stay with him for the rest of his life. There were monsters, and there were real monsters. The entire House of Bolton was a cancer that he had long wanted to eradicate from the face of the beautiful planet he would come to rule.

With a crash, Caraxes landed next to Aenar, kicking up huge amounts of snow. The dragon's neck curved around its rider, unconsciously protecting him.

"Thanks for the hard work, Caraxes," Aenar thanked his partner with a satisfied smile, displaying Ramsay Snow's head.

He would take the head back to Winterfell, as it was Ramsay who would take the blame for the letters sent. Aenar would only add that the bastard had killed Domeric and his own father to inherit the position of Lord of the Dreadfort.

If it were with another noble house, perhaps many would be suspicious of his words, but not with House Bolton, which already had a terrible reputation, worse even than House Frey in Riverrun.

Still holding Ramsay's head, Aenar mounted Caraxes' saddle. Looking once more at the ruined castle, its stones twisted, melted, charred and scorched, he let out a sigh. The crimson dragon took a few steps forward and then took to the sky.

...

With a loud, powerful roar, Caraxes landed outside Winterfell. The castle had no room for a dragon of his size.



However, like any dragon, Caraxes loved digging holes to find the warmest places in the bowels of the earth and warm himself. So, outside Winterfell, there was a huge hole that could easily be mistaken for a gigantic well.

Seeing the dragon settle into its makeshift cave, Aenar decided to let his uncle deal with it. After all, Winterfell wasn't his to worry about...

Still holding Ramsay's head, Aenar entered the castle under the fearful gaze of the guards. No one stopped him or even dared to say anything, everyone just made way for him.

In the castle training grounds.

"Why are you holding a head?"

Robb, on seeing Aenar enter the training ground, was shocked to discover that his brother was carrying a decapitated head by its hair.

However, he put that aside when he remembered the letter that Lord Medger, of House Cerwyn, had personally delivered to his father. A letter sent by the Lord of the Dreadfort, Roose Bolton.


Lord Medger's poor horse had died of exhaustion on arrival, demonstrating how quickly he had traveled to Winterfell.

Remembering the words written in the letter, Robb's face turned as cold as the northern winter.

If before he hadn't had a good impression of House Lannister, now he felt a deep disgust. He really wanted to march into Lannisport and burn that city to the ground.

Robb told Aenar everything and he nodded in satisfaction. Lord Medger was really fast, a journey that would normally take half a day took only a few hours.

"Let's go to the Great Hall together. I have some things to explain to Lord Stark," said Aenar, still holding Ramsay's head, as he walked towards the Great Hall.

Robb nodded and, although curious about his head, followed Aenar.

As soon as they both entered the Great Hall, they heard the roar of an angry man. "Lord Stark, call up your banners! Let's march towards the Dreadfort and cut off Roose Bolton's damn head!"

Eddard Stark, sitting in the seat of the Kings of Winter, also had a particularly cold expression. If Robb was furious, the Guardian of the North was even more so. However, before he could speak, he heard his nephew's voice.

"There's no need to march to the Dreadfort."



Aenar paused before continuing: "Roose Bolton is dead, and House Bolton has ceased to exist, as has the Dreadfort, which is now nothing more than a pile of molten rock."

Whether it was Rodrik Cassel, Robb, Eddard Stark or Medger Cerwyn, everyone was stunned by Aenar's words. After all, the extinction of a House was something extremely serious and rare to happen.

Medger looked at the boy with the white-gold hair and purple eyes with a perplexed expression. Remembering the rumours he had heard when he arrived in Winterfell, he realized that there might be some truth to those absurd stories. The mood of the lord of House Cerwyn couldn't have been more conflicted at that moment.

He had heard from the Targaryen King like everyone else, especially after the Second Field of Fire, so to see the Targaryen King talking so friendly to Lord Stark left the Lord of Cerwyn with mixed feelings of anger, confusion and disbelief.

"What happened, Your Grace?" Faced with a lord like Medger, Eddard addressed his nephew with formality.

"Roose Bolton's bastard, Ramsay Snow, on Tywin Lannister's orders, murdered the heir to the Dreadfort, Domeric Bolton, and his own father in order to inherit titles and lands. I discovered the conspiracy, but I was too late, everything had already happened." Aenar lied without showing any expression to indicate that he was lying. "Ramsay tried to attack me along with the guards of House Bolton. I fought back... and burned down the entire Dreadfort castle."

Eddard stroked his own forehead as he listened to Aenar's account. Did he believe his nephew's words? Absolutely not!

He still remembered what Aenar had said before he left and knew better than anyone that it was probably a lie, even though the letter he had read earlier was, in fact, true.

In Eddard's eyes, there was no way his nephew could have controlled anyone or forced that letter to be written, even with a dragon in his possession. It would be a suicidal move, something no one in their right mind would dare to do. So he just assumed that Ramsay Snow had been blinded by greed, relying too much on Tywin Lannister's support.

"Lord Stark, who might that be?" Medger asked, looking at Aenar with typical Northern distrust for foreigners.

"Aenar of Targaryen, First of His Name, Son of Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen and my dear sister, Lady Lyanna of House Stark." Eddard presented Aenar with a calm look.

"Did you bend the knee to the Targaryens, Lord Stark?" Medger looked at Aenar and showed a mixture of feelings in his gaze.

"Yes." Eddard said as seriously as he could.

"But his father kidnapped and raped-" Medger didn't even have a chance to finish speaking.

Leda, who had to arrive after sensing her king's arrival. She drew her sword and with a movement that was simply impossible for any normal human to follow, placed it dangerously close to the Lord of Cerwyn's neck.

"Lord Medger." Aenar spoke, his voice so cold that it made the surrounding temperature drop dramatically. The Immaterium's energy subtly filled the room. "I won't cut off your head because you don't know the truth, but don't ever call my father a rapist again."

Medger felt a shiver run through his body-those purple eyes really frightened him. In front of that intense gaze, he felt infinitesimally small.



Eddard didn't have a pleasant expression either when he heard the mention of his sister's rape.

"My parents married, and I was born naturally. There was no kidnapping or rape. Certain people made up lies to destroy House Targaryen, and the whole continent became a plaything in their hands, including House Stark," Aenar stated in a cold tone, his gaze fixed on Medger.

"My grandfather, Rickard Stark, was led to believe that my mother was in King's Landing, in the Red Keep. This led to his death and that of his son, Brandon Stark, my uncle."

Eddard and Medger's expressions were completely shocked by such an unexpected and insane revelation.

"Who did it?" Eddard asked. His voice was calm, but inside he felt an uncontrollable desire to destroy everything and anyone responsible for this.

"The Faith of the Seven and the Order of Maesters are the main culprits, but there were others like Hoster Tully." Aenar answered without any hesitation. He wasn't lying when he said those words.

House Targaryen had indeed fallen to the conspiracy of countless people and organizations, especially the Faith of the Seven and the Order of Maesters. Both organizations that didn't like House Targaryen at all.

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