After the council meeting ended, Tyrion stepped out of the chamber, spotting Bronn bowing respectfully as Cersei passed by. When she was gone, Tyrion, still in a foul mood, approached Bronn with a sarcastic smirk.
"Well, mercenary, when did you start acting like a knight?"
Bronn straightened his shoulders. "I might not be a knight yet, but I'd say I'm pretty close to being a proper lord these days."
Tyrion scoffed. "Funny, I much preferred you when you were still just a 'lowborn' scoundrel."
"Go to hell, dwarf," Bronn shot back, his old blunt tone creeping in.
Instead of taking offense, Tyrion laughed and whistled. "Ha! I'll leave that to Shae; she's far better at it."
The two continued bantering as they returned to Tyrion's quarters. He was about to settle in with Shae when an urgent knock at the door interrupted. Cursing, Tyrion yanked it open to find Varys standing outside.
"Damn you, spider! This better be important, or else—"
"It is, indeed, most urgent," Varys replied gravely. "Word just arrived from Highgarden: Margaery Tyrell is officially betrothed to Samwell Caesar."
Tyrion's eyes widened. "You're not joking?"
"Not at all, my lord. Furthermore, your brother, Ser Jaime, was taken by the Tyrells and sent to the Wall."
For a moment, Tyrion leaned against the doorframe in stunned silence, processing this latest betrayal. Then he jolted into action.
"Bronn! Bronn! Saddle the horses! We're going to Harrenhal!"
---
Harrenhal, situated in the Riverlands on the northern shore of the Gods Eye Lake, was the largest castle in Westeros. It had been built centuries ago by Harren Hoare, the so-called "Black Heart" of the Ironborn, who ruled the Riverlands and the Iron Islands. Pouring all his strength and wealth into the castle, Harren had taken forty years to construct this imposing fortress.
On the day of its completion, he'd declared it impenetrable, a monument to his legacy. But it seemed the gods had other plans. Harrenhal was finished the very day Aegon the Conqueror and his dragons set foot on Westerosi soil, landing at the mouth of the Blackwater River. And while Harrenhal's massive stone walls were indeed unbreakable by men, dragons were another matter entirely.
According to legend, Aegon, riding Balerion the Black Dread, had flown down upon the castle and engulfed its towers in dragonfire, turning them into blazing torches in the night. The melted stone ran down the walls, and Harren Hoare, his sons, his vassals, and his soldiers all burned alive in the castle's tallest tower, now known as the "Kingspyre Tower."
It was there that Tyrion found his father, Tywin Lannister.
"What a grim tomb this is," Tyrion muttered, glancing around the dark, sooty stone. "Father, I hear the ghosts of House Hoare still haunt these halls. Have you heard any rattling chains in the night?"
Tywin fixed his golden gaze upon his son. "Why are you here?"
Tyrion poured himself a goblet of wine, drained it in a few gulps, and then said, "I bring terrible news."
"Samwell Caesar and Margaery Tyrell's betrothal?" Tywin replied, his face unreadable.
"You already know? But I thought Harrenhal hadn't had a maester or ravens in years."
"I guessed," Tywin said flatly. "What could be worse news than that?"
Tyrion sighed. "So, what now? If the Reach sides with Stannis, we're finished."
"Who told you the Reach would side with Stannis?" Tywin responded coolly.
Tyrion paused, taking a moment to think it through, and then realization dawned. "You think the Reach will play the same game we did during Robert's Rebellion—wait until the last moment to declare allegiance?"
His father's expression remained inscrutable. "If they sit back and watch while we wear down the Northerners, they could very well sweep in to claim victory for themselves."
"We can't allow them to sit idly by," Tywin said firmly. "That's why I've set out some bait."
"What bait?"
"The Stormlands."
Tyrion blinked, then it all clicked. "So that's why you had the king legitimize that Baratheon bastard! I thought you just wanted to split their loyalties. But, Father, what if the Reach takes this chance to conquer the Stormlands for themselves? We'd be facing an even greater threat."
"Any bait worth its salt carries a risk," Tywin answered calmly. "And should the Reach take it, they'll pay a high price for their ambition."
Tyrion eyed his father, curious and a little uneasy. "A high price? What do you mean by that?"
Tywin offered no further explanation. Tyrion shrugged, taking it in stride. "Very well. I'm only the Master of Coin, after all. Strategy isn't my domain." He hesitated, then added, "By the way, there's more bad news: it seems our good brother Jaime was sent to the Wall by the Tyrells."
A chill filled the room, and Tyrion sensed a shift in his father, something colder and sharper than he'd seen even at the news of the Reach's betrayal.
"I am aware," Tywin ground out through clenched teeth.
"Actually, the Night's Watch isn't bad either." Tyrion seemed to be trying to comfort his father. "True, the Wall's cold, but it's not so bad. They're fed and clothed, and while he won't marry or inherit titles, well… Jaime's already been a Kingsguard, so nothing really changes."
But Tywin's gaze turned colder, so Tyrion wisely stopped talking. "I'll be on my way back to the capital now," he said, feigning nonchalance. "I'd rather not have the ghosts of House Hoare paying me a visit."
And with that, he made a quick exit.
---
The Inn at the Crossroads stood south of the Trident, between Riverrun and Harrenhal. Once, its sign depicted a king kneeling in surrender, but now the inn had been converted into a military camp and bore the Stark direwolf's banner.
After the battle at the Bloody Gate, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, had assumed Lannister forces would be on the verge of surrender. With the forces of the North, the Riverlands, the Vale, and the Stormlands united, House Lannister should've been ready to concede defeat. The alliance's cause was just, and he expected the Reach and Dorne would eventually join them as well, realizing the righteousness of their claim.
But to Eddard's shock, instead of yielding, House Lannister had allied with House Martell, trapping three combined armies in Dorne. Before even a single battle was fought, the coalition had already suffered a severe blow.
Infuriated, Eddard had halted his northern forces along the Trident, setting up camp to the south, directly opposite Tywin's army entrenched at Harrenhal. While they waited for reinforcements from the Riverlands and the Vale, Eddard's forces and Lannister troops remained locked in a tense standoff.
The Riverlords rallied to the Tully banner with whatever forces they could muster. The Freys of the Twins, however, were notably absent. Still, Eddard was willing to be patient with Lord Walder; the Frey troops and their strategic stronghold were too valuable.
What troubled him more were the reports from the Vale.
"Did you say the Vale lords are laying siege to the Eyrie?" Eddard asked, incredulous.
"Yes, my lord," the messenger confirmed. "The Eyrie is surrounded on all sides. I couldn't even gain an audience with Lord Robert or Lady Lysa."
"Which lords are leading this attack, and why?"
"The movement began with Lady Anya Waynwood. Most Vale lords have joined her. They condemn the Eyrie's silence during the campaign and Lady Lysa's failure to respond to the plight of Vale soldiers trapped in Dorne."
"By the gods," Eddard swore. "Robert Arryn is just a child! What would they expect him to do?"
"The lords' grievances seem to be aimed at Lady Lysa. They argue she's unfit to rule or care for the young lord. Lady Waynwood demands that Robert be taken to Ironoaks, where he will be raised properly."
"Return to the Vale and inform Lady Waynwood that I, Eddard Stark, will personally oversee Robert Arryn's guardianship in Winterfell. In the meantime, I name her Warden of the Vale. But the condition is that she must bring her forces to the Trident to join our campaign against the usurper."
"Yes, my lord," the messenger bowed and departed.
As Eddard sat down to continue his meal, he saw his son Robb and his ward Theon Greyjoy enter.
"Father," Robb said, his eyes bright with excitement. "I've brought three thousand Northmen! When do we march against the lions?"
Eddard frowned. "Who gave you permission to leave the North?"
Robb's excitement waned. "I thought you'd need reinforcements, so I summoned them to assist."
"Return to Winterfell," Eddard said curtly. "As the heir of House Stark, you must stay in Winterfell."
Robb was unhappy: "Father, Winterfell will be fine with mother there. The lions can't march past us into the North."
"Go back!" Lord Eddard said firmly, "You are not needed here, but Winterfell does. Our enemies are never just in the south."
Robb stammered a few times, but in the end he didn't dare to refute his father and said in a muffled voice,
"Okay."
At this time, Theon Greyjoy, Eddard adopted son, spoke up:
"Lord Eddard, I can go to the Iron Islands for you and convince my father to send troops to help you fight against the Lannisters."
"No need." Lord Eddard refused again, "I have already sent ravens to the Iron Islands. I believe your father will make the right choice."
Theon looked a little disappointed, hesitated for a moment, and then said:
"Can I stay and fight for you?"
"No. You go back to Winterfell with Robb."
"Yes..." Theon lowered his head and clenched his fists.
(End of Chapter)