Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 196 Magic and Prophecy - Ilya, Do You Believe?

As the banquet drew to a close, a sense of languor crept in amidst the clamor. Euron wandered through the crowd and found Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, leaning against a pillar.

Oberyn was clearly in a great mood. A beautiful maid from the Riveran family was so amused by him that her face flushed and her eyes sparkled. She was about to whisper sweet nothings and throw herself into his arms.

Euron's sudden arrival shattered the romantic atmosphere. Seeing the beauty he was about to win over flee like a startled deer, Oberyn glared at Euron, his tone clearly disappointed: "You've come at just the right time."

Euron ignored his complaints and asked directly, "Where are Princess Elia and Princess Ariane?"

"Ilya hasn't been feeling well these past few days, and she just couldn't hold on any longer, so she went back to rest," Oberyn replied with a smirk, still thinking about the departing maid.

Upon hearing this, Euron's flippant expression vanished instantly, replaced by an unusually serious one. He stepped forward, lowering his voice to a level that only the two of them could hear: "Tonight, bring Princess Ilya to my place."

Oberyn frowned immediately. He couldn't understand Euron's abrupt request—to bring his esteemed sister, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, to his residence alone in the dead of night? It was extremely inappropriate from any perspective and fraught with unspeakable risks.

Before Oberyn Martell could even voice his doubts, Euron seemed to read his mind and added, emphasizing, "Remember, don't bring any followers."

Oberyn stared at Euron's unusually solemn expression, devoid of his usual playfulness and amusement, clearly indicating he wasn't joking. He opened his mouth, attempting to press, "What exactly happened—"

Before he could finish speaking, Euron abruptly interrupted him: "Don't ask!" His voice was even lower, yet carried an undeniable weight. "It's extremely important! It concerns the future lives of your sister Ilya and your niece Rhaenys!"

The words "life and death" pierced through Oberyn's doubts and frivolity like an icicle. His expression changed abruptly, and all his confusion and hesitation turned into a solemn nod. He knew Euron; although the man was unpredictable, he would never joke about something so serious.

Upon hearing this, Oberon immediately put down his wine glass and turned to leave quickly to make arrangements.

Euron grabbed his arm and added, "I'll have Gwendolyn wait for you at the side gate behind the Iron Islands camp." His words were concise and clear, ensuring everything went smoothly.

That night, the moon was bright and the stars were few, their cool, silvery light spilling between the tents of Harrenhal. At the secluded rear gate of the Iron Islands camp, Gwendolyn stood waiting, dressed in a vibrant red robe. The fiery color stood out brilliantly in the deep night, like a silent, burning flame.

Oberyn arrived as promised, carefully supporting his sister, Princess Ilya. Ilya's face was still pale from her illness, and her steps were slightly unsteady. Unexpectedly, Princess Ariane also appeared in the moonlight, tightly holding Ilya's other arm. Her eyes were filled with concern and unwavering determination, clearly resolved to stay by her side.

During their time in Harlemburg, they always lived together, and since her niece wanted to come along, Oberyn Martell couldn't really stop her.

Gwendolyn showed no sign of unease about Arianne's unexpected arrival. She simply nodded slightly and turned to quietly lead the way. In a reassuringly calm tone, she said softly, "It's clean up behind us, no tails. Don't worry." These words acted as a reassurance, dispelling the last vestiges of unease from their nighttime infiltration.

Euron was waiting inside the room. On the table were two bottles of deep red wine and a few delicate side dishes. Hearing the noise at the door, he immediately stood up, glanced at the three people who entered, and then made a simple yet elegant gesture, indicating that they should sit down at the table.

Princess Arianne, hands on her hips, glared at Euron with obvious resentment in her beautiful eyes, and scoffed without any politeness, "Hmph! Making us sneak into your room in the dead of night, what are you up to? If you can't give me a plausible reason, and one that doesn't convince me," she threatened fiercely, "I'll definitely twist your head off and use it as a football!"

Oberyn Martell sat down lazily to the side, but his gaze toward Euron was equally scrutinizing and questioning.

When he went to invite his sister earlier, he did not reveal Euron's true purpose, only saying that Euron had something urgent to discuss. Therefore, he was now waiting for Euron's explanation.

In contrast, Princess Ilya appeared unusually calm. She gently adjusted her sleeves and said in a gentle yet direct manner, "I know you wouldn't have brought us here without a reason. Please speak plainly about what's on your mind."

Euron simply smiled faintly at Arianne's angry glare and questioning, a smile that carried an elusive mystery.

Instead of answering directly, he posed a seemingly unrelated question: "Do you...believe in the existence of magic?"

These words caused the expressions of the three people present to change instantly. Ariane frowned, her suspicion deepening, as if she thought he was being deliberately mysterious; Oberyn's languid posture became more scrutinizing, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table; Ilya remained calm, but a subtle hint of deep thought flashed in her eyes.

Before they could answer, Euron continued, his tone calm yet confident: "Whether you believe it or not, I have been pursuing and exploring the mysteries of magic that are beyond the comprehension of ordinary people." As he spoke, he deliberately winked, as if sharing a secret known only to him, "Now, I am going to show you something very—magical."

Euron said no more. He took out a shell with an ancient appearance and unique texture from his pocket—the very mysterious "Image Shell." He twitched his fingertips slightly, as if infusing it with some invisible energy, and began to chant a short incantation in a pretentious manner.

(The Image Shell, also known as the "Image Shell," is a unique functional shell species in the Skypiea arc of One Piece, whose function is to record and play back images.)

As he activated it, a soft yet clear halo suddenly appeared on the surface of the seashell, and a video stored within it was instantly projected into the air in front of everyone—the scene was so lifelike, as if a window to another world had suddenly opened.

The people in the picture are Rega and the Mad King!

Deep within Herenberg.

Inside the stone chamber, Aerys II asked, "Do you still remember the prophecy passed down through generations of the Targaryen family—A Song of Ice and Fire?"

Rhaegar's expression was solemn and dignified as he answered without hesitation, "I always keep it in mind, Father, and I firmly believe it. At first, I believed I was the prince of prophecy—then I thought that this responsibility might fall on the shoulders of my offspring. I have long decided to name my eldest son Aegon, because dragons have three heads. We need three children, just like the three-headed dragon on our family crest, and Aegon will surely become the prince of prophecy."

"Then divorce Elijah Martell! She cannot bear you the prophesied prince; she can no longer have children!" Elijah turned pale, Oberyn's face turned ashen, and Arianne wanted to curse him out.

Rega stared in shock, his eyes wide, instinctively resisting: "This—we swore an oath before the Seven Gods—"

Aerys II waved his hand impatiently, as if to sweep away all obstacles: "I have understood the true meaning of 'A Song of Ice and Fire'! Fire is the true dragon blood of us Targaryens! And ice—" he paused deliberately, emphasizing his words, "is the blood of the Starks of the North!"

"The blood of the Starks of the North?" Rhaegar murmured repeatedly, a wild and beautiful figure that had been frequently haunting his dreams these past few days suddenly appearing in his mind.

"That's right!" Aerys II's voice became resolute. "You are fire, and the Stark blood of the North is ice. You must marry Lyanna Stark!"

Upon hearing the name, a flicker of undisguised, even relieved joy crossed Rega's face, but he immediately thought of reality: "Then—what about Ilya?"

"Divorce!" Iris II's voice was cold and ruthless. "You must divorce her after the tournament!"

The immense pressure and his inner desires battled fiercely within Rega, and he tried to buy himself a moment's respite: "Father, please let me—think, I need time—"

"Your marriage is not for your personal pleasure!" Aerys II roared, completely cutting off his escape route. "It is for the survival of the entire Seven Kingdoms! There is no room for further thought! This is the decision!"

The scene abruptly ends there, and the light and shadow dissipate.

A deathly silence fell over the room. Oberyn, Elijah, and Arianne stood frozen in place, their faces drained of color, their expressions filled with disbelief, shock, anger, and profound fear.

Euron silently put away the image shell, not in a hurry to speak. He knew the impact of the cruel truth revealed in the image, so he quietly gave the three of them time to process this shocking secret.

A deathly silence continued to spread in the room, but beneath the silence, an uncontrollable rage was growing wildly.

The Mad King treated Elia solely as a tool for procreation, coldly ordering Rhaegar to divorce her upon learning she could no longer bear children! And that damned "A Song of Ice and Fire" prophecy—that fire was Rhaegar, ice was Stark, that dragons had three heads, and their child would be the savior prince—it all sounded like utter madness! But what was most chilling was the undisguised, almost relieved joy on Rhaegar's face when he heard he was to marry Lyanna Stark—

After a long, suffocating silence, the air seemed to freeze.

Euron's voice rang out again, breaking the deathly silence, but his question was more weighty than the silence itself: "Now, I want to ask you again, do you believe in magic?"

His self-illumination slowly swept across the three pale and shocked faces, and he asked slowly, "Or rather, are you willing to believe that just now—"

Was everything I just witnessed not a magic trick, but a real, unknown fact that actually happened?

In the suffocating silence, Euron sighed heavily, breaking the deadlock: "Whether all this is true or false, perhaps we'll find out when the tournament concludes tomorrow. I'm letting you know in advance so you won't be caught off guard—I hope you can make plans early and find a way to survive."

Princess Ilya's voice trembled slightly, as if she were still clinging to the last glimmer of hope: "Rega—he hasn't finally agreed yet, perhaps there's still room for maneuver—"

"But his expression said it all!" Ariane interrupted her excitedly, her tone sharp and heartbroken. "The look on his face clearly showed he'd changed his mind! He was actually hoping for something!"

Ilya gave a bitter, pale smile, with a resigned calm: "Our marriage was never based on love from the beginning, it was just—politics." She spoke these words very softly, yet they revealed the helplessness and bitterness she had endured for many years.

Oberon, standing to the side, felt as if his heart was being gripped tightly by cold iron clamps, so heavy that he could hardly breathe.

His vow to never marry stemmed largely from witnessing firsthand the pain inflicted on his sister by their cold, purely political marriage, a union based solely on self-interest. He lowered his head, his voice hoarse and strained, and asked the cruelest, yet unavoidable, question: "What if—what if Réga ultimately agreed?"

Ilya's eyes were unfocused, as if all her strength had been drained away. She murmured, "I don't know—I really don't know—" The immense confusion and uncertainty about the future made it almost impossible for her to think.

Seeing this, Arianne's anger and indignation erupted instantly. She retorted excitedly, "That mad king is talking nonsense! Who said you can't—"

However, before she could finish speaking, Ilya seemed to have been touched on her deepest sore spot. Her face suddenly turned even paler, and she abruptly reached out and pressed her cold fingers tightly to Ariane's mouth, stopping her from uttering words that could bring even greater disaster. Her purple eyes were filled with pleading, pain, and an undeniable warning.

Oberyn stood aside, watching all of this unfold, his heart sinking deeper into an icy abyss.

Euron's voice was deep and steady, yet like a cold dagger, precisely dissecting the cruelest possibility: "Rhaegar's character contains both weakness and kindness. What if he is unwilling to bear the sin of breaking his vows and divorce you, yet cannot resist his inner desires and consummates his marriage with that Stark lady, and even—bears the so-called prophesied child?"

How will you handle things when that time comes?

A deep pain flashed across Princess Ilya's face, but she quickly masked it with an almost numb calm.

She straightened her back, her voice soft yet carrying an undeniable resolve: "If he doesn't choose divorce, then I won't care how many women he has outside, or how many illegitimate children he's fathered with whom. I will still be his rightful wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. This is my identity, my responsibility, and my—destiny." These words seemed to be the last solid line of defense she had already erected for herself.

Hearing his sister's submissive declaration, Oberyn felt a pang of heartache and couldn't help but growl, "Sister! This marriage is nothing but a cold prison! Your forbearance will only make you suffer more!"

Princess Ilya's choice was as cold as winter iron, yet extremely rational, as if she had stripped away all emotion, leaving only the purest political considerations. Euron gazed at her seemingly calm and expressionless face, and suddenly, he seemed to understand completely why, in those unknown "original" paths, Princess Ilya, knowing all of Rhaegar's betrayals and infidelities, had always chosen to remain silent and utter a single word.

Because she had long accepted the fact that this, from beginning to end, was merely a political game. Their marriage had nothing to do with love; it was simply a contract, a symbol of an alliance, a duty that had to be fulfilled. Her identity was that of a wife, a queen, and, more importantly, the most crucial living bargaining chip between Dorne and the royal family. Personal joys and sorrows seemed so insignificant, even forbidden, before the grand political chessboard.

Princess Ilya slowly stood up, looking at Euron with a complex expression: "Regardless, thank you for telling me all this. I—I should go."

Just as she turned around, Euron's voice rang out again, like cold chains that halted her steps: "And what about your daughter Rhaenys? And—what about your future child?"

Ilya froze, her face turning deathly pale. She turned around incredulously, "What are you talking about? What future child—"

"I asked you whether you believe in magic." Euron's gaze was calm as still water, yet it contained an undeniable power.

Ilya forced a weak smile: "I believe you. Have you forgotten? On the Steps Isles, I saw those things with my own eyes—things beyond reason." She tried to support her belief with her past experiences, but she couldn't stop her voice from trembling.

Arianne, standing nearby, chimed in softly, "I didn't believe it before—but now, I'm starting to believe it."

Euron ignored their confirmation and continued in that calm yet deadly tone, painting a horrifying picture: "I saw" fragments of the future. Tomorrow, Rhaegar will win the tournament with the spear, and then he will bestow upon Lyanna Stark the crown of "Queen of Love and Beauty."

He paused, letting the sting of the image fully permeate, before continuing, "However, Rhaegar won't announce the divorce on the spot. You'll return to King's Landing with him, and then—you and your child will become hostages, imprisoned deep within the Red Keep, used to coerce Dorne into submission."

His voice grew colder and colder, as if every word was dripping with the bloodshed of the future: "I saw" the outbreak of war. I saw you, Ilya, you and your two children—Renice, and a newborn baby boy still in swaddling clothes."

Upon hearing the name of the baby boy, Ilya trembled. Arianne, however, looked at Euron with a complex expression. Euron's next words became incredibly specific and cruel, like the sharpest blade, stabbing into Ilya's heart: "I 'saw' Rhaenys being dragged from under the bed, and they stabbed her—more than fifty times."

"I 'saw' the baby boy being snatched away and slammed against the wall—turning into a mangled mess of flesh."

"I 'saw' you—raped and then murdered."

"I saw" the murderer—it was "The Mountain," Gregor Clegane.

Euron's gaze, sharp as a hawk's, fixed on the princess's despairing face: "Therefore, in this afternoon's duel, I gave him no chance to live. I had to kill him."

Finally, Euron uttered that soul-searching question, completely shattering Elijah's psychological defenses: "You may be able to endure a loveless marriage for political reasons—but what about your children? Can they bear such a fate? Even if the Mountain is gone, there's the Iron Mountain, the God Mountain, whatever it may be. As long as you remain in King's Landing, your fate, and the fate of your children, will likely be irreversible! Are you sure you want this kind of future?"

Inside the room, Gwendolyn stood quietly in the shadows, listening to Euron's description of that bloody future, a hint of undisguised curiosity and confusion appearing on her delicate face.

Every night, she and Euron lay in bed amidst the interplay of light and shadow—devoutly praying to hear the possible pronouncements of the Lord of Light—why did he "see" such clear and terrifying visions while she herself remained completely unaware?

When Princess Ilya heard about the children's horrific fate, she felt dizzy and her legs went weak, almost unable to stand. Fortunately, Ariane held her tightly, supporting her swaying body in time.

Oberyn's face was ashen, a mixture of overwhelming rage and the pain of helplessness causing him to suddenly raise his hand and slam it hard on the table beside him!

A loud bang echoed in the room, revealing his fury and despair that seemed to burst from his chest.