iron throne of ice and fire

Chapter 655 The Kind-Hearted Miss
The malt liquor in the sachet was almost gone, and the stubborn Arya finally succumbed to sleepiness, curling up on the wooden chair, her breathing becoming heavy.

After Ser Brienne carried the sleeping wolf girl away, she returned to the king's tent with a secret letter delivered by a messenger from Winterfell.

"Your Majesty, it is a letter from Queen Daenerys."

Green raised an eyebrow, took the tightly rolled-up letter, opened it, and read... Dani was once again plagued by nightmares, and his eyes darkened.

Is it the Night King, or the Three-Eyed Raven?

Brienne Tarth, the Iron Guard captain who faithfully performed her duties, was already as sensitive as an instinct to Grimm's emotional changes. After a pause, she asked, "Your Majesty, is there anything I can do for you?"

Putting away the letter, Green didn't choose to hide anything: "The White Walkers have started haunting Daenerys's dreams again. This started not long after we left King's Landing."

Ser Brienne knew that Daenerys had also struggled with this issue, and she moved her full lips: "The Queen is pregnant with your child, and in time it might..."

After hesitating for a moment, she said directly, "...It poses a danger. The Queen is strong-willed, but she still needs your protection."

Green tapped his fingertips lightly on the armrest of the chair, making a dull sound, then nodded slowly: "This is exactly what 'he' or 'they' wanted."

"them?"

Suddenly, Ser Brienne's clear blue eyes trembled: "Could it be... that someone is secretly targeting the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?!"

After a pause, Green first nodded slightly, then shook his head gently: "Not human."

He added, "Perhaps 'they' also have their eyes on Dani's three-headed dragon."

Upon hearing this, Brienne tightened her grip on the sword hilt: "Your Majesty, are 'they' things that can be killed?"

A sharp glint flashed in Green's calm eyes: "Now it's something that must be killed."

The next day.

The king's hunting party continued into the depths of the wolf forest, shattering the silence of the morning.

…………

……

...

At the intersection of Kings Road and River Road, near the town of Earl of Harlowe.

"Oh."

Tyrion scratched his disheveled hair; he was in trouble, having rescued a young girl from two thugs.

She had a limp, a hideous scar on her face, and was so thin that a gust of wind could sweep her away.

She was covered in filth, probably because she hadn't showered in a long time, except for her teeth, which were clean, with a small gap between her front teeth.

Tyrion couldn't help but secretly admire his own keen...observational skills.

Tyrion and his companions rode ahead, but the girl would always fall and get up, limping along behind, refusing to fall even a step behind.

His little squire, Podrick, would occasionally glance back at her with pity in his eyes, while Sir Bronn looked on with schadenfreude.

"Hey, Pod, your eyes say... I'm utterly wicked?"

Upon hearing Tyrion's voice, Podrick Payne hurriedly looked away and stammered, "No, no, sir, I didn't mean that."

Sir Bronn chuckled and said, "How could you possibly be a heinous criminal? You are clearly a kind-hearted gentleman."

Tyrion looked up at the sky in anguish, then yanked on the reins, stopping his horse.

Seeing them stop, the girl who had just fallen down behind them quickly got up and stumbled over, her running movements both disheveled and pitiful.

Tyrion looked down at the girl who had come to the horse, and after she had caught her breath, he slowly said, "Don't follow me, miss."

After saying that, he reached his short fingers into the money pouch at his waist, hesitated for a moment, then took it off and threw it at the girl's feet.

"Find a place to settle down, and may the gods bless you."

The girl picked up the money bag with trembling hands: "Those people won't let me go, I'll die... Kind sir, please save me."

Her tearful appearance was incredibly pitiful, and Tyrion then noticed that her eyes, hidden beneath her tangled hair, were remarkably beautiful—if it weren't for the scar on her face, she would have been a stunning beauty. Ser Bronn's languid voice rang out again: "Lord Tyrion, once we're gone, the purse you left behind will only be her downfall; that's mercenary experience."

Tyrion's hair was pulled even more tangled: "Mercenary, shut up."

The girl raised her hand to wipe her dirty cheeks, looked up at Tyrion with her tender eyes, and pleaded in her voice: "My lord, I can wash your clothes, cook for you, and take care of your horses. Please take me with you."

Upon hearing this, Podrick's eyes widened instantly—those were clearly his tasks, was she trying to steal his place?!

“I cannot agree to that, miss. I am a night watchman.”

Tyrion pondered for a moment, stroking his chin, and then suddenly said, "Perhaps I can have my captain of the guard take you to the Great Cathedral. My purse is enough to make the Great Cathedral of Harrenhal happy to take you in."

He thought it was a good idea, but the girl shook her head violently; she seemed to be... afraid.

The sound of horses' hooves approached from afar.

Marigold banners and direwolf banners fluttered in the wind, and the appearance of a troop of cavalry temporarily suppressed Tyrion's... "curiosity" for the girl.

They were Sansa Stark and her entourage, who were on their way to the town of Harlowe to buy goods, with Sandor Clegane leading the way and carrying the flag.

Sansa reined in her horse and glanced over the girl beneath Tyrion's horse, then looked over and said, "The food and tents are all stocked up. This should be enough to last us until we reach Riverrun."

Tyrion nodded slightly to her: "Thank you for your help, Miss Stark. It is our pleasure to travel with you."

Sansa simply smiled, then glanced at the trembling girl below with her blue eyes: "Who is she?"

"Oh, she's the stranger I accidentally saved."

Tyrion smiled slightly at Sansa: "We're discussing... sending her to the Great Sept of Harrenhal to settle her in."

"No! Please! Please..."

The girl's terrified cries immediately drew the attention of those around her. Sansa frowned slightly, then looked at Podrick, wanting to know what was going on—she believed Tyrion's squire was more honest than Tyrion himself.

Podrick, unusually quick-witted, immediately spurred his horse closer and whispered something nervously to Sansa.

Tyrion noticed that his little squire was no longer stuttering, and he couldn't help but look up at the sky and wonder, "Is this the magical power of a beautiful woman?"
After listening to Podrick's account, Sansa nodded gently, thanked him politely, and then looked down at the girl kneeling below.

Her expression at that moment resembled that of the stern Lady Caitlin: "What's your name?"

The girl cautiously raised her eyes for a moment, then quickly lowered them again: "I...I'm called...Rodin, others...they call me...the lame beauty..."

Sansa's gaze fell on Rodin's face, a face that would give anyone nightmares. Beauty?
Gods, what kind of suffering did she endure?

Sansa's full breasts rose and fell slightly beneath her grey cloak, and her voice softened unconsciously: "Why don't you want to go to the Great Cathedral?"

“They say I’m cursed…it’s a punishment from the gods…they want me to kneel before the idol and repent…otherwise…otherwise…”

The girl's voice trembled, and the painful memories made her shake even more: "Even if I don't starve to death... my legs will break... I won't be able to walk... I'll be eaten by wolves... I've seen it... I've seen so many... Every night I can hear... their howls... Those people will do the same to me..."

She became increasingly incoherent as she spoke, and Tyrion slowly took a breath, suppressing the past he no longer wanted to "revisit."

The girl finally stopped making noise, leaving only suppressed sobs.

After a pause, Tyrion tentatively asked, "Miss Stark, Riverrun... could you take in a poor servant who can do laundry, cook, and take care of horses?"

Sansa's eyes were already a little red. She nodded slightly and was about to agree when the Hound's shrill, hoarse voice came over: "Wise lady, you should not take in people of unknown origin."

Tyrion paused for a moment, then nodded in agreement: "Yes, I'm sorry, I will send someone to Harrenhal to find out more about her."

The girl hurriedly moved her body on her knees and knelt down in front of Sansa: "Kind-hearted noble lady, I swear that I have told you the truth, I can swear to the gods!"

Fearing abandonment, she hurriedly added, "I can write, and I can play the wooden harp for you. Please, please save me..."

Before she could finish speaking, she felt several sharp gazes fixed on her, which frightened her so much that she immediately fell silent and dared not plead any further.

Hound and Bronn simultaneously dismounted.

The girl kneeling there had curled up into a ball. As the footsteps drew closer, a pair of black boots covered in mud came into view.

"Woman, can you read?"

(End of this chapter)