"Have you forgotten? When that little beast Ramsay got married, I gave him three meat pies. You ate them too, and even shouted your praise."
Lord Eel was savoring the moment. He merely waved a hand at Stag Two, then turned back again, his face filled with the pleasure of long-awaited revenge.
"I even had the singers perform The Rat Cook. Heh heh. Your son Rhaegar, his own brothers, Symon and Jery, haven't they all gone missing?"
Iris's weasel-like, moist red eyes suddenly widened. His deathly pale face took on a bluish tinge, and the sparse hair on his short chin trembled a few times, yet all he could produce was a hoarse, rasping wheeze.
Lord Eel burst into loud laughter and cruelly asked, "So how did it feel, eating your sons' meat pies while listening to The Rat Cook?"
"Urgh…" Iris and several other Freys beside him felt their stomach acid surge up. Snot, tears, and the filth in their bellies all poured out together.
"You… you will die a miserable death. The Stranger will take you to the Seven Hells!" Iris cursed with a ferocious expression.
"I am carrying out the teachings of the gods. The Father Above will grant me a just judgment, and you…"
Lord Eel glanced at the impatient crowd of Red God believers waiting behind him and said in a low voice, "You will not even reach the Seven Hells. The foreign evil god will torment you in the world of death for a thousand years, ten thousand years!"
There were four Frey direct heirs burned to death. The elder and younger Walder had originally been wards sent by House Frey to Winterfell under the 'Twin Towers Oath,' effectively hostages.
Iris and Hosteen, meanwhile, had led two thousand Frey men to assist the Boltons in subjugating the North.
Now all of them had become sacrifices to R'hllor.
"The long night stretches on, peril everywhere. We mortals are born alone and die alone, lost and bewildered, wandering through the shadowed vale. Blessed to have our brethren, gathering and walking together; blessed to have the true god, who grants us overflowing grace…"
Melisandre stood shoulder to shoulder with Stannis. Behind them, Stannis's wife and daughter, along with the Knights of the Fiery Heart, whose numbers were seventy percent fewer than when they had been at the Wall, knelt and recited the Red God's prayer together.
Dozens of meters away, atop a tall tower, the dwarf and Jon stood by a window, watching the Freys struggle and wail amid thick smoke and roaring crimson flames.
"You're a Stark, yet you let a bunch of Red God zealots sacrifice followers of another god in your own home? Why not just burn the godswood as well and convert to the Red God yourself?" Tyrion said with clear displeasure.
"He is my king," Jon sighed.
"Have the Others eaten your brain?" Tyrion stared, one eye large and the other small, both grotesquely round with disbelief. "Even swearing fealty to the Dragon Queen would be a hundred times better than pledging loyalty to Stannis. What were you thinking?"
"You think I didn't want to swear fealty to Queen Daenerys?" Jon gave a bitter smile and shook his head. "She had no intention of wading into the North's muddy waters at all.
"At that time, Aegon had not yet appeared. Aside from King Stannis, I had no second choice.
"And besides, he truly meant to seek justice for my father. I had no reason to refuse."
Tyrion looked deeply at the younger man beside him, whose temperament had changed so drastically, and asked, "Your sister married Aegon, which means the Starks and the Targaryens are allied.
"His Majesty Aegon honored the alliance by helping the Starks take revenge and reclaim Winterfell.
"More than that, your sister is carrying Aegon's heir. What do you plan to do?"
"Aegon and Stannis are bound to fight to the death. Which side will you stand on?"
Jon's bearded face twisted into a tangled mass, like a shaggy black dog's backside.
"I don't know…"
"How can you not know?" Tyrion's gaze sharpened as he said gravely, "Jon, you are no longer the foolish boy who first arrived at the Wall. You are the King in the North, the only adult male left of House Stark!"
Jon asked with an awkward expression, "Then what do you think I should do?"
Just as Aemon and Tyrion had felt an instinctive fondness upon meeting Jon, Jon felt the same inexplicable closeness and trust toward the two of them.
Indeed, Jon's ability to fit in with the Night's Watch and rise within its ranks back then had also owed much to Tyrion's invaluable advice.
"Do you know why I left Slaver's Bay?" Tyrion sighed and recounted his experiences in full.
"The Dragon Queen is a good queen, but she is not a merciful saint. In truth, she has always been ruthless toward her true enemies.
"Perhaps she does not regard the Starks as enemies, and might even forgive Stannis, who did not take part in the War of the Usurper, but she makes no attempt to hide her hostility toward the Lannisters.
"And it's no wonder. You all had your reasons for rebellion, yet my father broke his word, tricked open the gates of King's Landing, and slaughtered her entire family, sparing not even infants. My brother, though his reasons were sound, was a Kingsguard knight. The Mad King could be killed by anyone except him.
"If anyone were in the Dragon Queen's position, they would not easily let the Lannisters go.
"At least she is broad-minded enough to hate only the ringleaders. Toward innocent Lannisters, she merely looks on coldly, quite happy to watch our misfortune.
"If all the lions were to die out, she would clap her hands in delight and drink three cups in celebration.
"That attitude pushes her, unconsciously, toward decisions most unfavorable to the Lannisters.
"For example, provoking my sister into betting the entire House Lannister on the table, after which she can reap all the lions with perfectly legitimate justification.
"Even if she does nothing, my sister, my uncle, and my kin will continue making what they think are their best efforts, which will only deepen the hatred between the two houses and do nothing to resolve the predicament.
"The gap in strength between the two sides is simply too vast. There is no room to struggle.
"When the day finally comes that the Dragon Queen sweeps across the world, House Lannister will likely be like snow piled in a courtyard, trampled at will, then melting away into the mud."
Jon looked at the filthy snow in the training yard, mixed together with black mud and tainted blood, and fell into deep thought.
"You once swore fealty to the Dragon Queen?" he asked hoarsely.
"Of course," Tyrion guessed that Jon had already been persuaded and felt a weight lift from his heart, though he forced a wry smile. "Otherwise, where would my Tysha have come from?"
"You broke your oath," Jon sighed.
"For my house, for my blood kin, I am willing to fall into the seven hells!"
A trace of genuine melancholy appeared on Tyrion's face. "The Dragon Queen's word is iron. If she acknowledges Aegon's priority in succession, she will not go back on it.
As long as Aegon ascends the Iron Throne, I will become Duke of Casterly Rock and lead the Lannisters in submitting to him.
That will make the Lannisters' submission to the Targaryens an established fact.
A just ruler would not harm her vassals without cause, all the more so when the Lannisters are her nephew's vassals, not hers.
Perhaps she will still judge my elder brother and sister, but my remaining family and my house will be preserved."
"For the sake of family." Jon lowered his gaze, using only the dim corner of his eye to look at Stannis by the fires at the edge of the training ground.
"What do you plan to do?" he asked softly.
Success!
The dwarf finally relaxed.
"First tell me, how strong is that woman?" Tyrion jerked his chin toward the red-robed woman below.
"She neither eats nor drinks, her magic is inexhaustible, and she is adept at prophecy, able to avert misfortune and seek fortune," Jon said.
"Prophecy?" The dwarf frowned. "Prophecies are usually unreliable, aren't they? I know the Moon Singers are the best at prophecy, and they often mistake visions for prophecies."
Jon thought of Aunt Mel's prophecies about the promised child and Arya and nodded hesitantly.
Indeed, Aunt Mel once mistook Lyanna Karstark for Arya in a prophecy and later failed to realize that Jeyne Poole was a fake.
Perhaps it really was a mismatch of specialties. Aunt Mel's prophecies had a very high rate of misinterpretation, with accuracy even lower than the woods witch who prophesied for Cersei, let alone the Ghost of High Heart.
The Ghost of High Heart could barely be considered a cut-rate "greenseer" (with talent inferior to Bloodraven), yet decades ago she successfully foretold the time and place of the savior's birth.
Countless prophecies afterward were spoken offhand and hit the mark every time, to the point that the Brotherhood Without Banners relied on the old woman's prophecies to learn what was happening beyond their reach.
Others received ravens and saw only what had already happened; the Brotherhood listened to the "woods witch broadcast" and learned of the future in advance.
"I hear you're the savior foretold by the Red God?" Tyrion looked at Jon, then at Stannis below, and said oddly, "Two saviors, one must be false. Stannis looks very much like a herald for the true king. Do the Red God's priestesses not intend to correct their mistake?"
"What do you mean? You want me to incite Melisandre to assassinate King Stannis?" Jon's gray eyes narrowed as he looked at the dwarf warily.
"That woman frightens me," Tyrion said frankly. "But our target is not her, and her target is not Aegon.
She wants to fulfill the Red God's prophecy. We only want the Iron Throne, and we are willing to acknowledge your identity as the prophesied child.
There is a basis for cooperation.
In truth, you should not have saved him last time. Letting him die at the hands of the Bastard of Bolton would have benefited everyone. You would become the recognized savior, the Red God's priestess would serve the true savior, and Aegon would become the true king.
If you can mediate, we can save ourselves a great deal of trouble."
Facing the little demon's eager, hopeful gaze, Jon's expression shifted several times. Finally, he gritted his teeth and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "During my resurrection, Queen Daenerys tampered with it.
It seems the prophecy was broken. In any case, I am still a follower of the Old Gods.
At first, she did treat me as the prophesied child and taught me many profound secrets of magic, but after one day of prayer, she seemed to receive some kind of revelation from R'hllor. Her attitude toward me suddenly grew cold, and even the magical instruction stopped."
"What do you mean? Aren't you the savior resurrected by the Lord of Light? How did the Dragon Queen interfere?" The dwarf was shocked.
"The details are complicated. I don't fully understand them either, but I am certain Melisandre will not abandon Stannis."
A spare tire is made for moments like this. How could she possibly give him up?
A glint of shadow passed through Tyrion's eyes. He leaned closer to Jon and asked softly, "Then where is the limit of her power?"
"A shadowbinder's methods lie in striking from behind. In a head-on fight…" Jon raised his right hand and spread his five fingers. "Any mage would die under the assault of five knights."
"You're joking, right?" The dwarf's eyes bulged as he yelped. "I suspect even fifty knights couldn't harm the Dragon Queen in the slightest. The red-robed priestess is at an even higher level and should be stronger."
"The Dragon Queen's strength lies in her dragons. Without dragons, five knights are more than enough," Jon said firmly.
The dwarf shook his head repeatedly and sighed. "You clearly haven't witnessed her way of fighting. With a single swing of her sword, a fifty-meter-long blade of fire appears. With a roar, the surrounding soldiers collapse like dominoes."
"Elemental fire blades are just for show. Her true dragon roar is merely a dragon soul entering the body. I can do that too."
"You can do what?" the dwarf asked in alarm.
"Everything she can do, I can do!"
Jon smiled modestly, spread his right hand, and a three-foot-tall sword of flame formed like a 3D projection.
(End of chapter)
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