"My Lord, I have captured the heirs of House Stark and House Arryn."
Jaime's head was battered, and he didn't even dare to breathe heavily.
Tywin's vision went dark, and he nearly fainted.
How could he have sired such a fool?
However, turning his thoughts to Rhaegar, the eldest son of his old friend Aerys, he felt much better.
Rhaegar had eloped with Lyanna, shocking all of the Seven Kingdoms.
Now, no one even knew where they had run off to.
"My Lord, are they to be kept imprisoned?"
Jaime asked cautiously, feeling rather clever.
Tywin waved a hand. "Imprison them for now. We shall see what Rickard and Jon Arryn have to say."
"Yes, My Lord!"
Jaime took his leave.
Once alone in the room, Tywin rubbed his eyes, his entire mind focused on the potential for future war.
In a sense, Lannister and Targaryen were tied to the same boat.
He and Aerys, he and Daeron, the Iron Throne and his eldest son Jaime.
If he ignored everything, he could simply withdraw from King's Landing.
But what then?
With two dragon scions like Rhaegar and Daeron, Tywin fully believed the Iron Throne could withstand the counterattack of the The Alliance of the Four Regions (though the Falcon and the Fish were still a mystery).
In reality, the main forces would likely be Stark and Baratheon.
If he withdrew now to watch from the sidelines...
Should the Targaryens successfully suppress the rebellion one day, it would not be so easy for the Lannisters to return to the center of power.
The most critical issue was the debt concerning his children.
Tywin's eyes grew deep as he decided, "Boy, if you do not marry my daughter, do not dream of receiving a single soldier or horse in aid from the Lannisters."
He took out paper and pen to write a letter, handing it to a Maester to release a raven.
He had no interest in helping the Targaryens.
But joining forces with Daeron to annex territory in the Riverlands was a prospect he found very appealing.
With the heirs of the Wolf and the Falcon captured, the The Alliance of the Four Regions would not sit idly by.
The raven flapped its wings, crossing Trident River and Neck, heading straight for Castle Black beneath the Wall.
However, the recipient was not there.
Days ago, Daeron had already set out for the true North.
Beyond the Wall, beneath a Weirwood.
Leaves as red as sparks fell all over the ground, as if landing on a sheet of white paper, rendering a desolate scene of blood-stained snow.
Crunch, crunch, crunch—
Daeron stepped through the accumulated snow, stopping at the edge of the thick Weirwood's canopy.
"Maester, slow down."
Davos supported Maester Aemon, and the group formed a human wall to protect the octogenarian.
Maester Aemon panted and waved them off. "Don't mind me. That is the oldest Weirwood beyond the Wall. Legend says it connects—"
"—to the secrets of the Children of the Forest."
Daeron looked toward Howland questioningly.
Wrapped in thick green robes, Howland searched near the Weirwood by scent and nodded firmly. "Prince, I sense the presence of the Children of the Forest."
This was one of the reasons Daeron was cultivating him.
The Reed family of Greywater Watch was blessed by the Three-Eyed Crow and had much contact with the Children of the Forest.
Howland had personally admitted to seeing the Children of the Forest in his youth, and he possessed a vague sensitivity toward this unique race.
Daeron glanced at the sky and said, "We camp here tonight."
Everyone became busy.
The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and the First Ranger took the lead, gathering dry branches and sap to start a campfire on the spot.
Since the Prince and Maester Aemon were going beyond the Wall, the Night's Watch accompanied them the entire way.
Daeron found a spot to sit and took out some gold star cheese to share with everyone.
The Wall did indeed block magic.
His three dragons refused to cross the Wall and remained outside the Night's Watch's Castle Black.
"Prince, be careful tonight."
Brynden looked after the horses, but his sharp grey eyes were constantly observing the surroundings.
The "Blackfish" had a keen sense for danger and could always escape unscathed.
Daeron had a sudden flash of insight; he indeed sensed that after leaving the Wall, he was being watched by a faint, indistinct gaze.
It was very annoying!
Anyone being stared at by such a prying gaze would be driven mad.
Time flew by until it was 23:00.
Daeron was wrapped in a fur sleeping bag, lying on his side by the campfire.
Whoosh—
A cold wind blew past, lightly stroking the hair on his forehead.
Daeron opened his eyes instantly and crawled out of his sleeping bag.
In the next moment...
He discovered a thin, small figure standing abruptly beneath the Weirwood.
She was one of the Children of the Forest, with large ears and a leaf cloak covering dark brown skin spotted like a doe.
Her eyes were extraordinary—a blend of gold and green, narrow like a cat's.
She had a mess of brown, red, and gold hair; these autumn colors were tangled together and adorned with vines, twigs, and withered flowers, as if intentionally dressed up.
Her appearance was not human; no wonder they were nicknamed "Squirrel Men."
"Who are you?"
This was Daeron's first time seeing one of the Children of the Forest, and he felt a dense natural aura similar to that of the Junimo.
Both belonged to Forest Magic.
The sound of his voice immediately alerted everyone in the camp.
Barristan and Brynden were the first to rise, drawing their swords and pointing them at the sudden outsider.
"I am a Child of the Forest, in service to the Lord Three-Eyed Crow."
She spoke softly; though she had the appearance of a girl, her voice was exceptionally mature and high-pitched. She added, "You may also call me by my name—Leaf."
Daeron was surprised. "You speak the Common Tongue?"
The world of Game of Thrones often fluctuated between high and low magic, and various unique races besides humans lived on the two continents.
The Children of the Forest and the Giants each had their own scripts and languages.
Leaf said, "I am already 180 years old. Under the tutelage of the Lord Three-Eyed Crow, I have learned to use the Common Tongue proficiently."
A long-lived race, then.
Daeron helped Maester Aemon over, with the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch following beside them, wanting to see what the Child of the Forest wanted.
Leaf observed them for a moment with her large gold-and-green eyes, seemingly satisfying her curiosity, before producing a sword from her leaf cloak.
The blade was slender, and the scabbard was unremarkable.
It appeared to be an ordinary one-handed sword.
But Daeron keenly noticed that the hilt was polished from pitch-black dragonbone, and the crossguard was shaped like a pair of spreading dragon wings.
"She is what you are looking for."
Leaf held the one-handed sword in both hands and said, "The Lord Three-Eyed Crow told me to return her to you."
With just one look, Daeron recognized the sword's origin.
One of the two valyrian steel swords lost by the House Targaryen.
The ancestral blade—"dark sister."
Daeron stepped forward to take the ancestral sword.
"Prince!"
The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Brynden, and the others spoke in unison, worried that the Child of the Forest might be deceiving them.
Leaf's large eyes were clear as she observed the next move of the silver-gold haired human.
Daeron waved them off. "It is fine."
He was not afraid of this rare race.
If the Children of the Forest were powerful, they wouldn't have been driven away by the First Men; if the First Men were powerful, they wouldn't have lost to the andals.
And no matter how powerful the andals were, during the era of the Valyria Dragonlords, they only dared to huddle in the Andal Hills to scrape for food.
Daeron gripped the ancestral sword; through the icy scabbard, he seemed to still feel a lingering warmth.
That was the heat inherent to valyrian steel.
With a ring, he unsheathed the longsword. The silver-grey blade shimmered with rippling water patterns, deep and enchanting, exuding a chilling killing intent.
Daeron lightly stroked the blade, hearing the joyful sound of dark sister, and said seriously, "She is bloodthirsty."
2
The Vale, The Eyrie.
Bang!
Robert burst into the meeting room, facing his beloved foster father, losing his temper for the first time: "Lord Jon, why will you not allow me to return to Stormlands? Do you also wish to stop me from seeking revenge!?"
He had tried to leave the The Eyrie several times, only to be stopped by the Knights of the The Bloody Gate.
Lord Arryn was organizing letters, slowly but very carefully.
There were letters from Lord Rickard and Lord Hoster.
The three Lords were corresponding, constantly discussing matters.
Robert was not part of it; he only thought of revenge. "Lord Jon, let me go!"
His voice thundered like a sudden clap of lightning.
Lord Arryn's brow furrowed, and his tone shifted. "Robert, do you know that Brandon and Albert, in their attempt to seek justice for you..."
"...are currently trapped in King's Landing, their lives hanging in the balance?"
Robert had had his fiancée stolen and was eager to find Rhaegar for revenge.
But Jon Arryn had lost his heir; who was he supposed to turn to for justice?
"Brandon and Brother Albert—?"
Robert's pupils shrank, and his heart couldn't help but pound.
Once someone fell into the hands of the Mad King, what good could come of it?
Lord Arryn's mind was in a mess, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Until their safety is confirmed, you are absolutely not permitted to leave the The Eyrie or the Vale."
No one had expected Brandon to be so foolish.
To actually deliver himself to the door, allowing the Iron Throne to seize the weakness of the four kingdoms alliance.
Fury rose in Robert's heart as he questioned, "Then we just sit and wait for death? Wait for the Mad King to use Brandon and the others as pawns, and let that culprit Rhaegar go scot-free?"
Brandon was his future brother-in-law, and Albert was his sworn brother with whom he spent every day.
But asking him to give up his hatred for this was worse than killing him.
The theft of his wife was an irreconcilable enmity!
"Of course not. Lord Rickard and I are both thinking of ways."
Lord Arryn remained composed and took out a letter. "We have discussed it. Since the Mad King has captured the heirs of two houses, he will surely use them as leverage to divide and control us."
The House Targaryen had dragons, which made people hesitant to act for fear of consequences.
The risk of starting a war was too great.
But the cause of the matter was Rhaegar abducting Lyanna (the blame was shifted onto Rhaegar), and the victim was House Baratheon.
Brandon and Albert had only gone to demand an explanation before suddenly disappearing, which proved the House Targaryen's hardline stance.
According to his thinking, he needed to cut the Gordian knot.
He had recalled another distant relative, Denys Arryn, who had married his niece, to prepare him to succeed Albert as the heir to the The Eyrie.
On the other hand, Lord Arryn pointed to the letter: "I suggest that Lord Rickard and Lord Hoster change the marriage contract, letting Eddard marry Catelyn to consolidate the Wolf-Fish alliance."
Robert was shocked. "You're going to give up on Brandon and Brother Albert?"
"This is called strategic planning!"
Lord Arryn's eyes narrowed slightly, flashing with an irresistible sharp light.
At worst, he would lose the heir.
He would treat them as capital for bargaining with the Iron Throne.
They couldn't just know nothing and start a war like blind men.
Knock, knock, knock!
Just then, the door was pounded violently.
Eddard ran in hurriedly, a letter in his hand, saying anxiously, "This is bad, Lord Jon."
Lord Arryn took the letter and looked at it; his face changed instantly.
Lord Rickard was heading south to King's Landing to demand his eldest son back from the Mad King.
"Damn it, are the Stark father and son both idiots?"
Lord Arryn slumped into his chair, his entire original plan thrown into chaos.
Robert gave a short laugh. "It seems House Stark still has some sense of honor and loyalty."
Old Arryn didn't care about the life or death of his nephew, but Lord Rickard couldn't bear to lose his own son.
Hearing the sarcasm in his foster son's words, Lord Arryn's face turned shades of blue and purple, quite a sight to behold.
But no matter how much was said, it couldn't change the serious consequences of the Wolf heading south.
"Lord Jon, what about my father and elder brother?"
Eddard was pacing in circles with worry.
Robert glared at his good friend, his face dark and silent.
When Lyanna eloped, Eddard had been able to advise him to stay calm.
Now that his own father and brother were in trouble, where was his own calmness?
To Robert, who was bent on revenge, the advice from his foster father and brother Eddard was simply because the knife hadn't cut their own skin.
Lord Arryn thought hard and hurriedly said, "Send a letter to Lord Hoster to intercept Lord Rickard midway."
"Good, I'll go right now."
Eddard only heard the first part and rushed out the door.
Lord Arryn looked at his other foster son and said deeply, "I will summon my trustworthy vassals. If there is trouble in King's Landing, I will immediately support your call to arms."
But until then, Robert had to remain in the Vale.
Seeing this, Robert felt utterly hopeless and said blankly, "Lord Jon, your indecisiveness will only harm everyone."
.
The House Targaryen was rotting away.
The Mad King ignored state affairs, and the Crown Prince Rhaegar oppressed the loyal and good.
If they didn't start a rebellion soon and lead an uprising to King's Landing, what awaited them would be a bone-deep pain.
Waiting, waiting, waiting!
They would only wait for black ravens and black news.
King's Landing.
Tywin concealed the news of the imprisonment of the heirs of the Wolf and Falcon houses.
At the Small Council meeting, Aerys appeared again, roaring in anger: "That unfilial son Rhaegar, what stupid thing is he doing?"
—
That Northern bitch was Robert Baratheon's fiancée.
Robert Baratheon was the eldest son of his late old friend, Lord Steffon.
Robert was the son of an old friend, practically a loyal dog.
For Rhaegar to actually abduct his fiancée was simply incomprehensible.
"With Rhaegar and Lyanna eloping, the Stark and Baratheon families will certainly not let this go."
Tywin said sarcastically.
People can't help but compare.
His eldest son Jaime was incredibly foolish, being tricked into becoming a Kingsguard.
Looking over, the once heroic Rhaegar eloping with the fiancée of a Lord Paramount was even more irredeemably stupid.
Hahaha!
Aerys cursed loudly, "Elopement, my foot! It's clearly Rhaegar taking a fancy to someone else's fiancée and committing adultery."
He was the one who believed most firmly in the abduction theory.
Because he was that kind of person, he assumed Rhaegar was too.
Looking at Tywin's calm and composed manner, Aerys was suddenly filled with rage.
A glance out of the corner of his eye saw the new Kingsguard waiting outside the door.
"Lannister, get in here!"
Aerys insulted him intentionally, roaring, "Your King is thirsty. Come over and pour me some wine."
Tywin's face darkened.
Meanwhile, news reached Sunspear.
Prince Doran sat in his wheelchair, and after reading the letter carefully, he was stunned.
Rhaegar eloped with someone!?
He hadn't even succeeded in pushing his daughter onto another Targaryen prince, yet the Targaryen prince who married his sister had cheated first.
And he had made the scandal known to everyone.
Prince Doran was in disbelief, murmuring, "The rumors from the Tourney at Harrenhal were actually true."
—
Elia had only recently given birth, and Rhaegar was already seeking a new love.
But—
Prince Doran could not understand at all, "But why must it be the fiancée of a Lord Paramount?"
Who exactly was this Lyanna, to be able to bewitch Rhaegar so completely that he would cheat and elope regardless of the consequences?
If House Baratheon pursued the matter, dragging in House Stark, House Arryn, and Tully family to gather the forces of the four kingdoms to rebel...
Would House Martell help or not?
Help! And his sister Elia would be humiliated.
Don't help! And all the previous investments would go down the drain.
"The Seven Kingdoms are truly in chaos."
Prince Doran had a splitting headache, and he pounded his legs, which were suffering from a gout flare-up, to relieve the pain that felt like ants biting.
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