They were somewhat red from the chill in the cool air.
Arthur frowned, sighed softly, and thought no more of it. He wrapped one arm around her and the other under her knees, lifting her directly into a bridal carry.
He held her steadily. Lady Rona let out a gasp and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.
He placed her on his warhorse, then took the reins, turned the horse around, and gave the order to his soldiers: "Enter the city."
Thus, under the complex and fascinating gazes of all the guards, maids of Deep Valley, and hundreds of Arthur's soldiers, their Lord, leading his warhorse, with a barefoot noblewoman seated upon it, slowly entered the castle.
Only Ser Old Nicken stood on the steps, watching this undignified scene, his old face wrinkled like a walnut.
A young, unmarried Lord and a newly widowed noblewoman being so intimate in public—if word got out, how would it be? Would that noble still marry his daughter to his young master?
But then he thought of how his young master had elevated his small family from the muddy riverbanks to its unprecedented current standing. What right did he, an old servant, have to criticize? He could only sigh heavily and turn to arrange the army's encampment.
Arthur carried Lady Rona all the way back to her bedroom and spent a full half-day comforting her until she cried herself to sleep, her emotions gradually calming. He covered her with a blanket before getting up from the bed and leaving for the castle's great hall.
Old Nicken and Tommen were already waiting there.
Arthur walked forward, grasping the hand of this first, and most loyal and hardworking, old man he had met, carefully observing his complexion: "Old Nicken... how are you? Are you well?"
Old Nicken's eyes welled up, and he nodded repeatedly: "Thanks to the Lord, all is well."
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Arthur's face returned to its usual calm.
He turned to Tommen and issued an order that shocked everyone present: "Tommen, immediately organize men to pack up Lady Rona, along with all valuables, food, everything in this castle, and transfer it all to Lions Den."
Old Nicken's eyes widened, but he chose to speak: "My Lord... this might not be good..."
Under what pretext would he seize the property of another family? What would this be called? If word got out, it would certainly invite criticism. If it were done discreetly, he would not have a single word of objection, but now, with the army entering the city, forcibly controlling the castle, and the Lord being intimate with the mistress in public, who knew what rumors would spread outside.
Arthur's voice was unequivocal: "War is very likely to break out fully soon. I cannot divide my forces to protect this castle; it is a burden to me."
He paused, then added: "As for the Lady's opinion, I... have already spoken with her, and she has no objections."
Old Nicken wanted to say more, but Arthur's last statement rendered him speechless. He knew that once Lady Rona herself agreed, he no longer had any grounds for objection. He should have advised his young master to consider his reputation; if he wanted his family to grow stronger in the future, he must marry a woman from a powerful family.
After much deliberation, he still chose to speak with concern, making a final effort: "My Lord, you are still unmarried, and Lady Rona is a noble widow. If you just bring her to your territory and settle her in your castle, what will outsiders say?"
Arthur was silent for a moment. He felt that Old Nicken's words were indeed sincere and loyal, but he also couldn't abandon this woman now.
He paced back and forth, seemingly pondering suitable phrasing. The hall was silent, with only the crackling of the fire in the fireplace.
After a long while, he stopped and finally spoke, his voice clear and decisive: "Then how about this?"
"We will announce to the public..."
"That Lady Rona, fearing the rampaging Ironborn in her territory, voluntarily abandoned her castle and fled to my territory, seeking my protection."
Although this excuse was a bit far-fetched—no, very far-fetched—it at least preserved the dignity of both parties on the surface. Old Nicken's tightly furrowed brows relaxed slightly.
Arthur seemed to suddenly remember something. He looked at Old Nicken and Tommen, a subtle smile playing on his lips: "Oh, and there's one more thing."
"When you announce the battle report to the public, say that the five hundred reinforcements I led encountered a force of six hundred Ironborn while en route to aid Daedings Family."
"They have been defeated by me, but I suffered heavy casualties and need time to recuperate."
"I will have Lady Rona write a letter to Daedings Family on my behalf."
Tommen and Old Nicken both gasped simultaneously, their eyes wide as copper bells.
"Six... six hundred?!" Tommen's voice changed pitch. "My Lord, is this true?"
Arthur shrugged, the smile on his face turning a bit cunning. What he needed to do now was remain unmoving, half-truth, half-lie, beyond reproach. The Ironborn did indeed have "over four hundred men," though in reality, there were only a little over forty, plus a group of coerced Riverlands refugees.
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