The banquet was winding down, and the raucous noise had mellowed into a lazy hum. Euron navigated through the crowd and found Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, leaning against a pillar.
Oberyn was clearly in high spirits. A beautiful serving girl from House Whent was blushing under his teasing, her eyes darting flirtatiously. It looked as if she was moments away from falling into his arms.
Euron's sudden arrival shattered the amorous atmosphere. Seeing his almost-conquered beauty dart away like a startled deer, Oberyn glared at Euron, his tone dripping with annoyance. "Your timing is impeccable."
Euron ignored the complaint. "Where are Princess Elia and Princess Arianne?"
"Elia hasn't been feeling well these past few days. She couldn't hold on any longer and went back to rest," Oberyn replied with a pout, his eyes still lingering on the retreating maid.
Hearing this, Euron's playful demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a solemn gravity. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear.
"Tonight. Bring Princess Elia and come to my quarters."
Oberyn's brow furrowed immediately. He couldn't comprehend the abrupt request—bring his royal sister, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, to a man's room in the dead of night? It was inappropriate from every angle and carried unspeakable risks.
Before the Red Viper could voice his suspicion, Euron seemed to read his mind and added with heavy emphasis, "Remember. No servants. Just you three."
Oberyn stared at the rare seriousness on Euron's face. The usual mockery and playfulness were gone. This was clearly not a joke. He opened his mouth to ask, "What exactly has ha—"
"Don't ask!" Euron cut him off decisively. His voice dropped even lower, carrying an undeniable weight. "It is a matter of life and death. For your sister Elia, and for your niece Rhaenys."
The words "life and death" were like ice picks, shattering Oberyn's doubts and flippancy. His expression changed instantly. All confusion and hesitation solidified into a grim nod. He knew Euron; the man was unpredictable, but he wouldn't joke about something this grave.
Oberyn set his goblet aside immediately. He turned to leave and make arrangements.
Euron grabbed his arm. "I will have Gwendolyn wait for you at the side gate behind the Ironborn camp."
His instructions were concise and clear, leaving no room for error.
---
The night was deep, the moon bright and stars sparse. Cold silver light bathed the tents of Harrenhal.
At the secluded side gate behind the Ironborn camp, Gwendolyn stood in a crimson robe, a silent flame burning in the darkness.
Oberyn arrived as promised, carefully supporting his sister, Princess Elia. Elia's face still bore the pallor of illness, her steps slightly unsteady. Unexpectedly, Princess Arianne was also there, tightly linking arms with Elia. Her eyes were full of concern and unquestionable determination; clearly, she had insisted on coming.
During their time at Harrenhal, the women had stayed together. The Red Viper couldn't very well stop his niece from tagging along.
Gwendolyn showed no reaction to the unplanned addition of Arianne. She merely nodded and turned to lead the way, speaking in a calm, reassuring whisper: " The back is clean. No tails. You can relax."
Her words were a sedative, dissolving the last traces of anxiety about their stealthy arrival.
Euron was waiting inside. A simple spread of two bottles of dark red wine and a few delicate dishes sat on the table. Hearing the door, he stood up, his gaze sweeping over the three guests before gesturing elegantly for them to sit.
Princess Arianne put her hands on her hips, her beautiful eyes glaring at Euron with obvious resentment. "Hmph! Dragging us to your room in the middle of the night like thieves... what are you planning? If you don't have a good reason—one that convinces me—" she threatened fiercely, "I will twist your head off and use it as a ball!"
Oberyn sat down lazily, but the look he cast at Euron was equally scrutinizing. He hadn't told his sister the real reason, only that Euron had urgent business, so he too was waiting for an explanation.
In contrast, Princess Elia was unusually calm. She smoothed her sleeves and spoke gently but directly. "I know you wouldn't summon us without cause. Whatever it is, please speak freely."
Facing Arianne's glare and suspicion, Euron only smiled faintly—a smile laced with mysterious intent. He didn't answer directly. Instead, he threw out a seemingly unrelated question:
"Do you... believe in magic?"
The expressions of the three shifted instantly. Arianne frowned, her suspicion deepening, thinking he was playing tricks. Oberyn's lazy posture stiffened slightly, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table. Elia remained calm, but a flicker of deep thought passed through her eyes.
Before they could answer, Euron continued, his tone peaceful yet confident. "Whether you believe or not, I have always pursued and explored mysteries beyond common understanding." He winked, as if sharing a secret only he knew. "Now, I am going to show you something very... miraculous."
Euron said no more. From his tunic, he produced a shell with an ancient, peculiar texture—the mysterious Tone Dial. His fingers moved slightly, seemingly injecting invisible energy, and he theatrically muttered a short, fake incantation.
(The Tone Dial/Vision Dial, a specialty of Skypiea in One Piece, functions here as a video recorder and projector.)
As he activated it, the shell's surface glowed with a soft but clear light. A stored image was projected into the air before them—vivid and lifelike, as if a window to another world had suddenly opened.
The people in the image were Rhaegar and the Mad King!
[Inside Harrenhal - A Stone Chamber]
> Aerys II asked: "The prophecy passed down through generations of House Targaryen—'A Song of Ice and Fire'—do you remember it?"
> Rhaegar looked solemn and answered without hesitation: "I keep it in my heart always, Father, and I believe in it deeply. At first, I thought I was the Prince That Was Promised... later, I believed the burden would fall to my children. I have already decided to name my firstborn son Aegon. Because 'the dragon has three heads,' we need three children, just like the three-headed dragon of our sigil. And Aegon shall be the Prince That Was Promised."
> Aerys II interrupted him sharply, green madness flickering in his eyes: "Then divorce Elia Martell! She cannot give you the Prince That Was Promised. She can no longer bear children!"
> (Elia's face went white. Oberyn turned the color of iron. Arianne looked ready to scream curses.)
> Rhaegar's eyes widened in shock, instinctively resisting: "But... we swore vows before the Seven..."
> Aerys waved his hand impatiently: "I have seen the truth of the Song of Ice and Fire! Fire is the true dragon blood of House Targaryen! And Ice—" He paused for emphasis. "—is the blood of the Starks of the North!"
> "The blood of the Starks?" Rhaegar murmured, and an image of a wild, beautiful figure that had haunted his dreams recently surfaced in his mind.
> "Correct!" Aerys's voice became decisive. "You are Fire, and the Stark blood is Ice. You must marry Lyanna Stark!"
> Hearing the name, a look of unconcealed—even relieved—joy flashed across Rhaegar's face. But he quickly thought of reality: "Then... what about Elia?"
> "Divorce!" Aerys's voice was cold and heartless. "Right after the tourney, you must divorce her!"
> Internal conflict raged in Rhaegar, pressure battling desire: "Father, let me... think. I need time..."
> "Your marriage is not for your personal pleasure!" Aerys shouted, cutting off his retreat. "It is for the survival of the Seven Kingdoms! No more thinking! It is decided!"
---
The image cut off abruptly. The light faded.
Dead silence filled the room.
Oberyn, Elia, and Arianne sat frozen. The blood had drained from their faces, leaving expressions of disbelief, rage, and profound fear.
Euron silently put the Vision Dial away. He didn't rush to speak. He knew the impact of the cruel truth revealed in that footage needed time to digest.
The silence stretched, suffocating. Yet beneath the quiet, fury was growing like a wildfire.
The Mad King saw Elia purely as a breeding tool. Upon learning she could no longer bear children, he coldly ordered Rhaegar to divorce her! And that damned prophecy—Fire is Rhaegar, Ice is Stark, the dragon has three heads—it all sounded like the ravings of a lunatic!
But the most chilling part was Rhaegar. When he heard he was to marry Lyanna Stark, the look on his face... that unconcealed joy...
After an eternity of suffocating silence, the air seemed to have solidified.
Euron's voice broke the stillness, his question heavier than the silence itself.
"Now, I must ask again. Do you believe in magic?"
His gaze slowly swept over their pale, shocked faces. "Or rather, are you willing to believe that what you just saw was not an illusion, but a hidden truth that actually occurred?"
Euron sighed heavily, breaking the deadlock. "Whether this is true or false... perhaps we will know when the tourney ends tomorrow. I let you know in advance because I don't want you to be caught off guard... I hope you can make plans early. Find a way to survive."
Princess Elia's voice was faint and trembling, grasping at the last straw. "Rhaegar... he hasn't agreed yet. Perhaps there is still room to turn back..."
"But his expression said everything!" Arianne interrupted agitatedly, her voice sharp with heartache. "That look on his face! He has already changed his heart! He was expecting it!"
Elia smiled—a bitter, pale smile of resigned calm. "Our marriage... was never about love from the start. It was only... politics."
She spoke softly, but the words carried years of helplessness and sorrow.
Oberyn felt as if his heart were being crushed by cold iron tongs. The reason he had sworn never to marry was largely because he had witnessed his sister's loveless, political union. He lowered his head, his voice hoarse and suppressed as he asked the cruelest, unavoidable question:
"If... if Rhaegar ultimately agrees?"
Elia's eyes lost focus, as if all her strength had been drained. "I don't know... I really don't know..." The vast uncertainty paralyzed her.
Arianne exploded with indignation. "That Mad King is speaking nonsense! Who says you can't have..."
Before she could finish, Elia's face turned even paler, as if a deep wound had been touched. She abruptly reached out, covering Arianne's mouth with cold fingers, stopping the words that might bring greater disaster. Her violet eyes were full of pleading, pain, and a silent warning.
Oberyn watched this, his heart sinking into a deeper abyss.
Euron's voice was low and steady, but it cut like a cold dagger, exposing the cruelest possibility.
"Rhaegar's character is a mix of weakness and kindness. What if he doesn't want to bear the sin of breaking his vows by divorcing you, but cannot resist his inner desire? What if he takes the Stark girl, and even... sires the so-called 'prophesied child'? How will you position yourself then?"
A spasm of deep pain crossed Elia's face, but she quickly masked it with a numb calm. She straightened her back. Her voice was quiet but carried the resolve of a queen.
"If he chooses not to divorce... then no matter how many women he has outside, or who he sires bastards with, I will not ask. I remain his lawful wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. This is my status, my duty, and my... fate."
This was the last fortress she had built for herself.
Hearing his sister's declaration of submission, Oberyn felt like a knife was twisting in his gut. He growled low, "Sister! Such a marriage is a cold prison! Enduring this will only bring you endless pain!"
Elia's choice was cold as winter iron, yet extremely rational. She had stripped away all emotion, leaving only political calculation.
Staring at her calm face, Euron suddenly understood why, in the original timeline, Elia remained silent despite knowing all of Rhaegar's betrayals.
Because she had accepted the fact: This was always just politics. Their marriage was never about love; it was a contract, a symbol of alliance, a duty. She was a wife, a queen, and a living hostage between Dorne and the Crown. Personal joy and humiliation were insignificant before the great game. They were not allowed to exist.
Princess Elia stood up slowly, looking at Euron with complex eyes. "Regardless, thank you for telling me this. I... should go."
Just as she turned, Euron's voice rang out again, like a cold chain binding her feet.
"And what about your daughter, Rhaenys? And... your future child?"
Elia froze. Her face went sheet white as she turned back in disbelief. "What are you saying? What future child..."
"I asked you if you believed in magic." Euron's gaze was calm as water, yet held unquestionable power.
Elia forced a weak smile. "I do. Did you forget? In the Stepstones, I saw with my own eyes... things beyond reason." She tried to use past experiences to support her belief, but couldn't stop her voice from trembling.
Arianne whispered, "I didn't before... but now, I believe a little."
Euron ignored their confirmations. He continued in that steady, lethal tone, painting a horrific picture.
"I 'saw' fragments of the future. Tomorrow, Rhaegar will win the joust. Then, he will crown Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty."
He paused, letting the sting of that image settle.
"But Rhaegar will not announce a divorce on the spot. You will return with him to King's Landing. And then... you and your children will become hostages, confined in the depths of the Red Keep, used to force Dorne into submission."
His voice grew colder, every word dripping with future blood.
"I 'saw' war break out. I 'saw' you, Elia. You and your two children—Rhaenys, and a newborn son, still in swaddling clothes."
Hearing "son," Elia trembled violently. Arianne looked at Euron with complicated eyes.
Euron's next words became incredibly specific and cruel, carving into Elia's heart like a blade.
"I 'saw' Rhaenys dragged out from under a bed. They stabbed her... over fifty times."
"I 'saw' that baby boy snatched away and smashed against a wall... turning into a blur of red mash."
"I 'saw' you... raped, and then killed."
"I 'saw' the man who did it... it was Gregor Clegane, the Mountain."
Euron's gaze was sharp as a hawk, staring at the despairing princess. "That is why, in the single combat this afternoon, I gave him no chance to live. I had to kill him."
Finally, Euron delivered the question that shattered Elia's last defense:
"You might be able to endure a loveless marriage for politics... but what about your children? Can they endure such a fate? The Mountain is gone, but there could be an Iron Mountain, a God Mountain... as long as you stay in King's Landing, your fate, and your children's fate, likely cannot be changed! Are you sure you want that future?"
In the shadows of the room, Gwendolyn stood silently, listening to Euron's description of the bloody future. A trace of curiosity and confusion crossed her exquisite face.
Every night we are in bed together—praying to hear the Lord of Light's revelations—why did he "see" such clear and terrible visions, while I know nothing?
Upon hearing the gruesome fate of her children, Princess Elia felt the world spin. Her legs gave way, and she nearly collapsed. Only Arianne's tight grip kept her upright.
Oberyn's face had turned the color of iron. Boundless rage and helpless agony intertwined, causing him to slam his hand heavily onto the table!
BANG!
The sound exploded in the room, a testament to the fury and despair bursting in his chest.