Stokeworth Castle faced south with its rear to the north. At the ground level lay a two-hundred-square-meter stone hall, furnished with a ten-meter-long wooden table. Two chandeliers filled with lit candles hung from the ceiling.
On the left wall of the long table, there were five fireplaces arranged in a row—two of them currently burning. The right wall, which faced the garden, featured five massive arched windows adorned with vibrant mosaic glass, each corresponding to one of the fireplaces.
Daenerys sat at the head of the table. On either side of her were Barristan, Perestan, along with Bronn, Lollys, and Maester Kandar.
Bronn had enthusiastically invited Her Majesty to his humble abode, saying: letting the Queen spend the night in the woods near his castle would bring him unbearable shame, sleepless nights, and endless unease.
Oldtown had long been aware of her arrival in Westeros, so Daenerys didn't care much whether her presence was made public.
As for whether Bronn might follow the Citadel's example and violate guest rights to harm her?
Daenerys wasn't worried—he wouldn't even get the chance. She had no intention of staying in his castle longer than necessary.
Outside in the courtyard, her two dragons were gnawing on ox leg bones. Once they were full and rested, Daenerys planned to leave before dawn.
"Your Grace, this is my son, Tyrion Tannerman," Bronn said, taking a plump, fair-skinned baby from Lollys' arms and presenting him to Daenerys.
"Gah-gah, ah-ha." The chubby boy was wrapped like a ball in a fur coat, chewing his fingers, his blue eyes rolling about—quite adorable.
Daenerys twitched at the corner of her mouth and removed a ruby-inlaid dagger from her waist. She placed it gently in the child's arms.
It was a replacement she bought in Volantis after pawning her Valyrian steel dagger in Lys—fifteen golden honors, crafted by a master blacksmith from Qohor.
"Hehehe…" Lollys, who resembled a plump rolling barrel, beamed foolishly. "Thank you, Your Grace."
"What's with that name?" Daenerys asked.
"Sigh, Duke Tywin had just died back then. Lady Tanda wanted to curry favor with Queen Cersei, so she suggested naming him Tywin.
But the flattery backfired. The Dowager Queen flew into a rage, claiming a bastard didn't deserve her father's name.
Well, two years ago during the riots in King's Landing, my wife Lollys was raped by dozens of rioters in the tannery's backyard. So, the boy's last name is 'Tannerman.'"
Bronn spoke lightly, as if it were someone else's wife who had been violated. And Lollys just kept smiling dimly. Even as her most degrading past was laid bare before everyone, she only flinched ever so slightly.
Bronn continued, "With no better option, I named him Tyrion, hoping the Queen Mother would be pleased. But she took it the wrong way, thinking I still missed my former lord or that I was secretly in contact with Tyrion. So she had Balman sent to assassinate me. You can ask Maester Kandar—he was there at the time."
Maester Kandar was a pudgy man in his fifties, his short hair streaked with gray. He kept looking at Maester Perestan as though he wanted to say something, but the older maester's drooping eyelids betrayed no reaction.
Now that the liege lord had spoken to him directly, he nodded and sighed. "Lord Bronn had his sword at Ser Balman's throat at the time—there's likely no mistake."
Once he opened his mouth, more questions slipped out. "Your Grace Daenerys, why have you come here? And Maester Perestan, shouldn't you be in Oldtown?"
The red-nosed maester glanced indifferently at Kandar and said nothing.
Daenerys chuckled, "Tell me, have you heard of the Red Wedding?"
"Where Walder Frey violated guest rights and murdered Northerners?" Kandar asked, puzzled.
Daenerys nodded toward the suddenly pale-faced elder maester. "The Citadel invited me as a guest, but once they discovered my identity, they tried poisoning me, ambushed me with axe-men and crossbowmen—even prepared over a hundred scorpion bolts for the dragons."
"What?!" Bronn and Kandar exclaimed in unison, their faces filled with disbelief.
"Maester, is this true?" Kandar asked in a trembling voice.
The elder maester didn't respond, but the deathly pallor on his face told everyone that Daenerys wasn't lying.
"I shouldn't have let this scum into my hall," Bronn said openly, not hiding his disgust.
"Why? Maester, was someone forcing you? It must have been Earl Hightower!" Kandar exclaimed anxiously.
"Enough. No need to explain. I'm willing to take the black," the red-nosed old man said bitterly, a look of utter defeat on his face.
Kandar slumped into his high-backed wooden chair, ashen-faced. "The Citadel's reputation, built over a thousand years… ruined by you lot."
"Bronn, you didn't invite me here just to talk about all this nonsense, did you?" Daenerys said with a faint smile.
"Your Grace, may I ask—when will your army arrive? I am willing to swear allegiance to you," Bronn said firmly after a moment of hesitation.
Daenerys gave him an odd smile. "There is no army. My White Knight told me that the proud men of Westeros will unite only when facing foreign invasion. So, I have no intention of bringing my forces from Slaver's Bay. If you offer me your loyalty, you'll be the first Westerosi lord under my banner."
"Uh…" Bronn's face turned green, then pale—like he'd swallowed dung.
"Haha, don't worry. I won't force you. Your ragtag bunch wouldn't last a second against dragonfire, and Stokeworth isn't a strategically vital stronghold. It's not worth the effort," Daenerys said lightly, with a carefree smile.
But Bronn remembered the terrifying ring of dragonfire, Cersei's inexplicable hatred of him, and the fact that the Citadel knew everything about his usurpation of the Stokeworth title.
His expression of doubt gradually turned resolute again. "Your Grace, I am willing to be the first lord to swear loyalty to you."
Daenerys asked, "How many trusted men do you have?"
"Two hundred armored riders, each with their own horse. They may not all be reliable, but I believe I can control them."
"Are they all sellswords?" Daenerys frowned.
"Your Grace, I'll be honest with you. The landed knights in my domain only give lip service—they're not trustworthy. And freshly armed farmers are even less useful than hired riders."
"I need you to temporarily abandon Stokeworth Castle. Are you willing?"
Bronn gritted his teeth, then nodded. "I can. This place is only a hundred kilometers from King's Landing. Once Queen Cersei leaves the Great Sept, she'll never let me go."
He had spent the past year recruiting and training those two hundred riders, fully expecting to use them against the Queen's forces.
"But where should I go?" Bronn asked again.
"Dragonstone."
"Dragonstone?"
"Winter is coming. I won't involve myself in Westeros's conflicts for the next few years, but Dragonstone is the ancestral seat of House Targaryen—it means a great deal to me. With two hundred soldiers and my two dragons, it won't be difficult to take Dragonstone, which has just over a hundred guards."
Dragonstone is a strategically important stronghold—easy to defend, hard to attack. Even with over a hundred ships and nearly ten thousand men, Lord Redwyne laid siege to the island for several months without daring to launch a direct assault. They hoped to deplete the castle's food supplies through a blockade.
To quickly end the siege and allow the fleet from the Arbor to return to the Reach and respond to the Ironborn invasion, the Knight of Flowers decided to lead a direct assault himself.
Though the castle was eventually taken, he was doused in boiling oil during the attack. Once considered the most handsome man in the realm and a crossdressing icon of Game of Thrones, he was disfigured—his beautiful face ruined, turning him into a monster more grotesque than the Hound.
The Knight of Flowers nearly lost his life, and Cersei lost half her military strength—the troops used in the siege were all elite Lannister soldiers, while the fleet from the Arbor had only blockaded from the sea.
Of the 2,000 elite soldiers Tywin left in King's Landing, more than half died in the assault led by the Knight of Flowers, with over a thousand killed and the survivors mostly maimed.
That's why, later, when the High Sparrow imprisoned Cersei, the Iron Throne had no means to respond—its forces were too weak. Tywin had originally brought twenty thousand troops to King's Landing, but after the war ended, most were dismissed and sent back home (as they were farmer-soldiers from his bannermen's lands), while some were taken by Jaime to suppress rebellion in the Riverlands (Riverrun was still resisting).
It was precisely because Daenerys understood the brutal history and outcome of the siege of Dragonstone that she was confident she could hold it as the Targaryen stronghold.
Yes—she never doubted she could take it. Bronn's men were mainly there to help her hold the island.
Bronn silently considered this for a while, then nodded and said, "When do I begin?"
"Start preparing your men and hire ships immediately. I'll visit the Wall and return—then we attack Dragonstone."
Although she had accepted Bronn's allegiance, Daenerys hadn't changed her plan to depart that very night. Standing outside the great hall on the wide stone archway, overlooking the courtyard below where her dragons spread their wings, she said openly to the mercenary earl beside her, "Bronn, Westeros is corrupt to its core—its morality eroded, its ethics shattered. I won't easily trust anyone. You'll have to prove your loyalty through action."
"I understand," Bronn replied, his face grim.
"There's only the two of us here now, so I can speak more plainly," Daenerys said with a faint smile. "Westeros is a rotten, festering cesspit. I have no interest in playing their twisted game of thrones.
I will burn it all down and rebuild a new world—one filled with sunlight and hope. Once I claim the Seven Kingdoms, the first thing I'll do is convene a grand council and put nearly twenty years of injustice on trial.
The old world can fall, but its crimes must never be forgotten. Not only will they be remembered—I'll write books, leave records, so future generations never forget how vile their ancestors once were, and learn from it."
She glanced sideways at Bronn, whose eyes flickered uneasily, and said with deep meaning, "No one will escape judgment. Not even my father, the 'Mad King' Aerys.
If the Citadel hands over your dark history to me, and the evidence is clear, I won't hesitate to strip you of your title. Whether you live or die will depend on whether you're willing to don the black."
"Your Grace, I—"
Daenerys raised her hand to interrupt his anxious explanation and smiled. "Bronn, some dirty deeds, once done, must be buried deep. If they're exposed, the only choice is to make amends.
Clearly, you've failed to keep them hidden.
But you're lucky. For two cows, you led the Hound into the woods in the middle of the night to search—that's not something I'll cover up for you. But I also never mistreat those who've earned merit.
As a reward for your loyalty, at the very least, you'll keep the lands and castle of Stokeworth. However, the surname 'Stokeworth' will be abolished. You'll use your original name and become, without dispute, Lord Bronn.
Of course, your wife, Lollys, must never again suffer another 'fall from a horse' or similar accident. I don't care how many lovers or bastards you have in the future, but your heir must come from her womb.
As for the highest reward… heh, that will depend entirely on your merits—there's no upper limit."
Bronn's doubts were swept away. He dropped to one knee and solemnly declared, "I swear unwavering loyalty to my queen."
*(P.S.: Regarding the battle for Dragonstone, George R. R. Martin never specified the exact number of defenders, only mentioning "a small garrison." I personally estimate fewer than a hundred, considering he only brought a thousand cavalry beyond the Wall.
As for the Knight of Flowers, Loras Tyrell, the reason he led the Lannister forces rather than troops from Highgarden was twofold:
First, Tywin didn't allow a large number of Reachmen to remain in King's Landing—Highgarden's troops had already been sent away. Second, Loras served the royal family (Lannisters) as a member of the Kingsguard and was no longer simply a noble son of Highgarden.)
(End of Chapter)
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