Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire.

Chapter 295 The Long Night
The ironborn raiders took the village with little effort.

Victarion took off his greataxe and placed it beside the well. He scooped up some water from the basin and used it to wash the blood off the axe. He also occasionally splashed some water into his mouth to moisten his mouth.

The villagers nearby spoke in an Eastern Continental language that he could not understand and pointed at the basin.

Victarion thrust out his mighty arms, striking like a bear, and grasped the villager's limp neck.

"Learn the Common Tongue, man." Victarion listened to the sound of bones breaking and snapping in the villager's neck until his last breath.

"Call it a day!" he roared, and the Iron Men accompanying him immediately stopped what they were doing and turned to run towards the longship docked on the shore.

Only a step to Meereen, Victarion thought, and he took a few sips of the cool, thirst-quenching water, feeling it roll down his throat and into his lungs. He lifted his neck and stepped onto the deck, holding onto the mast and squinting eastward.

Wolfe came over, looking worried, but his missing ear always made him look even more funny when he was thinking.

"There is a plague. I heard from a red priest," One-Eared Wolfe told him. "It must be the blood plague. I didn't expect it to happen in Westeros as well as here."

Victarion frowned. He knew the dangers of the blood plague, which could almost destroy an entire legion. But he still said, "Baptize in the sea. The Drowned God will protect his Ironborn from the danger."

"Besides," Victarion recalled, "there is no disease in the village."

"I hope so, Lord Victarion, but I have no idea of ​​Euron's orders this time," said One-Eared Wolfe, his voice deliberately low. "I always feel that something is wrong. There has been a strange atmosphere on the Invincible Iron Victory since the horn was aboard. It is hard to explain."

"Euron's orders are always poisoned. He loves to play tricks with women and eunuchs!" Victarion said, agreeing with his men.

Ever since Euron asked him to sail to the distant East Continent to meet the Dragon Queen after the attack on the Shield Islands, he has never had any good intentions. He used the division of the Shield Islands to undermine the trust among his most capable subordinates, making them fight to the death for a few broken islands. Besides, the army of the Reach would take them back sooner or later. This was a dead end, but those four idiots fell into the trap anyway. They helped warm the bed when their Rock Wife was robbed. It's ridiculous!
Humph! Victarion snorted. Euron wanted him to ask for the Dragon Queen from the East Continent to be his rock wife. What a joke. He would never help Euron to the end. He wanted to marry the Dragon Queen himself. Only then would he be the true king of the Ironborn.

"That dark-skinned woman," said One-Eared Wolfe, "that whore, I suspect is Euron's spy, like a little bird in the hands of the eunuchs of King's Landing."

Victarion shook his head. "She was only a woman. Even if she was a spy, what good could it be? We are thousands of miles away, and Euron is still in Westeros."

Dan Erwofei nodded and said, "It seems that I worry too much."

Victarion took him by the shoulders and dragged him into the cabin, snatching a piece of meat from the table and stuffing it into Wulf's mouth. "Enjoy this. We will drink blood soon."

He turned his eyes and saw the Dragon Horn hanging on the wall, which no one cared about. Euron's face seemed to appear on the wall again, looking at him with a mocking smile.

Go to hell, Victarion thought disdainfully, he would never be a pawn of Euron, he would take the five thousand raiders under his command and personally help the Dragon Queen deal with her enemies in Meereen, then marry her openly, ride her dragon, return to Westeros, destroy Euron's Seastone Throne, and recast one for himself, symbolizing the new leader of the Ironborn and a new future.

"Eat your fill of meat, these are spoils of war!" he roared, "and then head for Meereen!" Victarion turned around amid the cheers of the crowd and walked into his cabin. Seeing the dark-skinned prostitute sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached out and turned her over and took her from behind.

Margery closed the window, but heard the maid calling outside.

"What's wrong?" She was puzzled and walked to the door. She put her right ear close to the door and heard heavy footsteps.

Before she could react, the iron gate had already opened. Mandon Moore, the Kingsguard who was blocking the door with his hand, smiled apologetically at her, said "The Prime Minister is here" and closed the door.

Artis Arryn's face appeared in her sight, making her feel both happy and terrified. "Prime Minister," Margaery said calmly after calming down.

"What happened to King Joffrey?" Artis asked. "Do you, or do the Tyrells, know anything?"

"He, he is sick, very sick," Margaery reacted quickly, and the fear in her heart increased. Compared to the known Artis Arryn, she was more afraid of the unknown and mysterious Faceless Man. Besides, her grandmother had not given any instructions yet.

"Didn't the Prime Minister go to see it?" she asked, turning the passive attitude into the active one.

"Yes," Atis still had doubt on his face, but Margaret didn't know whether it was real doubt or just a disguise. "I have indeed been to the king's bedroom and met his majesty. Time is really magical. It has turned a lively and active king into this state."

"And I'm curious," said Attis, "why did the queen insist on living apart from the king?"

Margaery seemed to have lost her voice. She stood there silently. After a moment's pause, she said, "If this is the reason why the Prime Minister broke into my room, it would be a bit rude. Besides, the Seven Gods have not witnessed this marriage yet and are not in a hurry to consummate the marriage." As she spoke, she rubbed her hands together and raised her head.

Artis took a deep breath and studied Margaret's expression, as if trying to guess some information from it, but he finally gave up and nodded, "Excuse me, Your Majesty, I am not here for just this reason."

"what?"

"I have always respected the Tyrells and the nobles of the Reach," Artis said slowly, "and I know that from the beginning of this dispute, when Robb went south, to the fight with Stannis, the Tyrells have never been at the center of the war. I would like to have an opportunity to form an alliance with the Tyrells."

"Ah," Margaery couldn't help laughing. She looked at Artis, and for a moment he seemed to be the boy he once was. "I can't represent the Tyrell family. You should go to my brother, or, more importantly, my grandmother."

Laughter also came out, but it did not come from Margery, but from Attis. His laughter was so hearty that Margery didn't know what it meant.

"I guess Her Majesty underestimated her own weight," Artis said. He looked into Margaery's charming elk-like eyes and took a step closer. "Don't think of yourself as a pawn. I don't think the Queen of Thorns can represent Highgarden, nor do I think the Duke of Mace is courageous enough. But his daughter, the queen, is completely different." He looked at Margaery admiringly. "At least in King's Landing, and even in the Riverlands and the Vale, the most powerful voice of the Tyrell family comes from you, Margaery."

Margaery stood there in a daze. She had always been very careful and clear about her own positioning. She was just a chess piece placed by her grandmother in King's Landing to improve the family's status, and this was the only role she needed to play.

"You can tell Gaoting that I don't trust grandma and grandpa, but I trust the queen." Artis said with a smile on his face and trust in his eyes.

"So," Margery said hesitantly.

"The first person who can represent Highgarden in negotiating with the Eyrie is you, followed by the Duke of Mace. As for the others, I, Artis Arryn, have never heard of them."

The two were silent for a long time until Attis broke the silence.

"If you have thought it through," Attis turned around, "feel free to write to me to discuss the details and our respective bargaining chips." His expression was straightforward enough. Now there are only a few families in Westeros that still retain their strength. Apart from the Ironborn who are still making trouble, the basic situation on land has been determined. It is time for the final showdown and division of the spoils. There is little point in hiding anything any further.

Just before he left, a pair of cool hands held his arms.

"Artis," Margery said, swallowing, "how can I trust you?"

Attis frowned, but the queen's lips had already kissed him, wet, and the special perfume of the River Bend still lingered between her teeth.

(End of this chapter)