Two more days passed.
Tarth Island, 700 kilometers south of Dragonstone.
Tarth Castle, a luxurious and spacious bedroom.
Outside, the north wind howled as snowflakes lightly tapped against the colorful mosaic floor-to-ceiling windows. Inside, the fireplace burned brightly, and candles filled the room with warm light.
With Theon's support, Sansa struggled to sit up. She stared fixedly at the handsome man standing before the bed, a man who looked as if he had stepped out of a young girl's springtime dream, and asked, "Are you really the Mad King's son?"
If she had been her thirteen-year-old self, she would certainly have blushed crimson, her heart racing like a startled deer, her mind wandering with romantic fantasies until she felt completely dazed.
If she had been the girl who had just left King's Landing and had not yet been shaped by Littlefinger's guidance, then seeing her former husband again would have filled her with regret. She would have thought: you should have transformed earlier. With a face like this, even if you were still shorter than my shoulder, your looks could make up for your height. Besides, you may be short, but you are not lacking elsewhere.
If she had encountered him before the Dragon Queen personally acknowledged Aegon as the legitimate descendant of the Unworthy King Aegon, she would have ground her teeth and complained about heaven's unfairness. Why did I miss a true prince, only to marry a fake one?
But now, facing Tyrion, the Mad King's son, Sansa felt none of that infatuation, nor did she have the leisure to lament the unpredictability of fate. Her heart was filled only with deep wariness and vigilance. The dwarf had surpassed Stannis and Euron to become the greatest rival on her path to the Iron Throne.
Sensing the faint hostility from the pale pregnant woman on the bed, Tyrion smiled bitterly.
"If you like, you can call him Aerys. Although he truly was mad, he is still my father.
Actually, I would rather have you scream at me the way Princess Arianne and the others do, saying things like 'You're so handsome.'"
"Are you flirting with me?" Sansa's lips trembled with anger, yet a strange feeling stirred in her heart.
"I just miss the simple girl who used to swoon over Joffrey and Loras. When I faced that version of you, our conversations contained far less caution and scheming."
The smile at the corner of Tyrion's mouth grew even more bitter. Combined with the carefree, unruly handsome face he now wore, it gave him a strangely compelling charm.
Sansa stared at the unfamiliar face for a moment in a daze. She had never imagined the little demon could show a smile that made people feel such sympathy.
Her expression softened somewhat, and her tone was no longer so aggressive.
"As long as your eyes aren't blind, you should be able to see at a glance that I'm no longer a young girl."
Sansa lowered her head and gently stroked her belly.
"Her name is Catelyn. Catelyn Targaryen. The maester says she will be born within the next month.
Do you understand?
For her, I must abandon naivety and foolishness. For her, I must be wary of everything that could harm her. For her, I must strive to obtain more and better things."
For some reason, Tyrion understood rationally that some of Sansa's words were a bit far-fetched, yet he still found her particularly captivating at that moment.
Perhaps it was the glow of motherhood.
Perhaps it was the allure of a newly widowed woman.
Or perhaps it was the sense of kinship between two people of the same kind.
"Stannis has gone mad. Did you know?" Tyrion asked suddenly, without context.
Sansa was stunned for a moment before replying, "I know. He sacrificed his own daughter to R'hllor and used blood sorcery to fuse the demigod dragon soul Vhagar into the body of a living wyvern.
The magical dragon called 'Guardian of the Seven Kingdoms' has two heads. One breathes smoke and fire from hell, while the other devours human souls."
"He also slaughtered Karhold, the Dreadfort, and several knightly domains in the North. Not even chickens or dogs were spared. Men, women, the elderly, and children were all burned to ashes," Tyrion said.
"What are you trying to say?" Sansa asked with a frown.
Tyrion raised his voice.
"Stannis is now this powerful and this insane, yet you still dare to compete with him for the Iron Throne? And you're worried about me competing with you?
Your Catelyn will be born in a month. Whatever you want to do for her, at the very least you should first make sure she enters this world safely.
The world may be dark and cold right now, full of madmen, evil gods, and the Others. But as long as she lives, she will eventually see summer, won't she?"
Sansa's expression darkened. Bran had once said something similar to her. Perhaps Tyrion, like Bran, meant well, but she did not want to hear it.
"Do you think I'm foolish enough to provoke Stannis?"
Because of the second Baratheon's madness, she not only dared not return to the Vale herself, but even brought her younger brother Rickon back from the Gates of the Moon despite her large belly.
To avoid provoking Stannis, she had even taken the initiative to withdraw the Golden Company to Tarth Island.
"I've already hidden on Tarth Island, and I have never had any intention or action toward competing for the Iron Throne before the Long Night ends. How exactly have I provoked him?"
Tyrion sighed.
"If you harbor the ambition to claim the Iron Throne, then in his eyes you are already a rebel. For that chair, he could kill his own brother and daughter, so what would you be in comparison? Don't follow in Aegon's footsteps."
"Is it really that obvious?" Sansa's face showed a trace of doubt. "I haven't done anything yet. I only want to preserve my strength and survive the Long Night."
The dwarf had just returned, yet he already knew about her ambition for the Iron Throne. That was not normal.
Aside from Illyrio and Bran, she had never revealed her ambition to outsiders.
Even though she was currently integrating the forces of the Golden Company, it was not only kings who could command armies. Great lords could as well.
Tyrion let out a long sigh and spoke slowly.
"Your ambition is not obvious. In fact, it's quite well hidden.
Unfortunately, in the game of thrones, you are only a novice player. You do not yet understand a simple principle: veteran players are wary of every character who has the ability to enter the game, regardless of whether they have joined the board yet.
During the War of the Four Kings, Robb kept his attention fixed entirely on the Lannisters, as if Dorne, the Iron Islands, and Highgarden did not exist.
They had not entered the field at the time, but they possessed the power to determine who would win or lose. Robb could not see that.
But I, my father, Littlefinger, Varys, and the others all knew what needed to be done."
So when Robb was winning battle after battle in the Riverlands and the Westerlands, I pacified your aunt Lysa; I sent Myrcella to Dorne for a marriage alliance and won over Prince Doran; I dispatched Littlefinger to Highgarden to negotiate Joffrey's marriage to Margaery. Yes, at that time your sacred marriage contract with Joffrey had not yet been dissolved.
Even the Iron Islands were given a promise. If King Balon could conquer the North, we would recognize him as King of the North and the Iron Islands.
When Robb finally turned back after countless victories, exhausted from war, he was shocked to discover that the entire world had become his enemy.
So do you understand now?
As long as you possess power and legitimacy, even if you hide your head inside a rat hole, the players in the game of thrones will still lock their nail-like gaze onto every part of your body."
As if to strengthen his argument, he swept his powerful gaze up and down the pretty widow.
Sansa's expression changed several times. After a while, she pulled the blanket higher to cover her full chest before sneering, "Do you think your sister is dead and will allow Stannis to kill every competitor who joined the 'Ender of the Long Night' wager?"
" My sister?" The dwarf was stunned for a moment before realizing who she meant.
"Of course she is not dead, but right now she is clearly pretending to be. Stannis performed blood rituals with the two-headed dragon and slaughtered Karhold and the Dreadfort. She knew the news but showed no reaction."
Sansa shook her head. "Killing me carries a completely different meaning than killing Roose Bolton. I have broken no rules and committed no errors. Everything I have done follows oaths and proper customs."
"Well, I never expected to persuade you anyway. But now you should understand that I will not compete with you for the Iron Throne. You do not need to treat me as an enemy." The dwarf shrugged.
"You are a Targaryen, the son of Aerys," Sansa said calmly.
"That is hardly a glorious identity. I stand alone and have no power to fight for the Iron Throne." The dwarf gave a bitter smile.
A glint flashed in Sansa's eyes. "Then in this game of power, which side will you stand on?"
The dwarf looked at her meaningfully. "How do you want me to choose? Or…"
Their eyes met. For a long time neither spoke. It seemed they both understood something, as if a silent understanding had formed between them, yet nothing actually happened. It was only a simple exchange of glances.
Beside them, Theon frowned. Why did the air suddenly carry a strange scent?
"Screeeech!" The cry of a winged dragon echoed through the window into the room.
"Who has arrived?" Tyrion suddenly came back to his senses.
Not long after, Brienne came to report. "Lady Sansa, Your Highness, Duke Stark and Count Seaworth have arrived."
"Seaworth?" Tyrion said warily. "The Onion Knight is Stannis's Hand of the King. What is he doing here?"
"They are in the sitting room. Shall I help you out, or invite them in?" Brienne asked Sansa.
"Jon…" Sansa's expression darkened. "Let them come in."
More than Jon and Davos entered. There were also four skeletal knights in full armor.
After each commander of the Golden Company dies, the flesh is boiled from his skull and the bone is plated with gold, then hung atop a banner pole.
Eventually the string of golden skulls became the emblem of the Golden Company.
Just as the knights of the Baratheon king wear cloaks bearing a blazing red heart, the knights of the Golden Company are accustomed to wearing cloaks decorated with strings of golden skulls.
At this moment, the defense of Tarth Island had essentially been taken over by the Golden Company. Skeletal knights were stationed both inside and outside the castle.
"Gods… are you really Tyrion?!"
Davos and Jon were both old acquaintances of the dwarf. Seeing the current "1.4-meter little Leo," they were stunned speechless.
"Earlier a forest witch cursed me. I can only return to my true appearance after being kissed ten thousand times by prostitutes.
What do you think? Legendary enough?
Actually, I think what I really need is a princess. If I were saved by the kiss of a princess's true love, it could become a bedtime story for children.
But ten thousand kisses from prostitutes would be seen by old nursemaids as a monstrous corruption of young lords and ladies, something as terrifying as the Night King or Stannis." The dwarf rubbed his face and grinned.
Davos's pupils shrank, and he said seriously, "Tyrion, perhaps His Majesty's actions have been excessive, but they all follow the law and established rules.
You can ask Duke Stark whether the decision regarding Karhold was made by the 'Anti-Others Committee.'"
Tyrion was somewhat surprised. Looking toward the uncomfortable-looking Jon, he said, "You people actually dare to discuss something like the slaughter of a city openly?"
Jon waved his arms unconsciously and explained, "It wasn't a massacre. At that time we only decided to execute—"
Davos immediately took over, saying, "To kill everyone who participated in, supported, or knew about the sacrifice to the evil god. Is that correct?"
Jon nodded with a grim expression.
That had indeed been the initial decision made by the Dragon Queen, himself, Stannis, and the northern lords.
Then Davos continued, "The Dragon Queen once burned Karhold while riding her dragon. Saigon escaped by luck and revealed everything. After that, no one in Karhold could claim innocence."
"What about Roose Bolton? Was burning the Dreadfort and those knightly lands in the North also the committee's decision?" Tyrion asked with a frown.
"That was the decision of the King of the Seven Kingdoms. The king follows precedent and gives the same punishment for the same crimes. It is fair and just. What is wrong with that?" Davos lowered his eyes.
Tyrion fell silent.
(End of chapter)
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