Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 300 Fragile Alliance

Before Robert Baratheon had even settled firmly on the Iron Throne, a magnificent raven arrived gracefully from the fertile lands of Highgarden in the south, carrying a letter of allegiance from House Tyrell, lavishly presented and lavishly gifted.

This letter came at just the right time, like a timely rain.

In their letter, Highgarden went to great lengths to highlight their "goodwill" and "restraint": they emphasized that they had never launched an attack on Robert's allied forces throughout the war; secondly, they had only besieged Storm's End without attacking, thus minimizing bloodshed; and finally, they had remained neutral in the decisive Battle of King's Landing, without supporting the Targaryen royal family.

The most crucial move followed immediately.

When Robert conquered King's Landing and faced the mess of a massive famine within the city, Highgarden immediately opened its granaries, sending a large convoy of carts laden with grain northwards. They cleverly packaged this necessity of survival as a "loyal tribute to the new king," attempting to use the aroma of the grain to wash away the historical stain of serving the dragon king.

Jon Arryn, the King's Hand, an elderly man who prioritized the greater good, strongly advocated for forgiveness at the King's Council. Stroking his beard, he advised Robert, who was still somewhat resentful: "Your Majesty, the unity and peace of the Seven Kingdoms are far more important than dwelling on temporary positions. The food of Highgarden can appease hundreds of thousands of hungry mouths in King's Landing, more valuable than ten thousand swords. Their submission will lay a stable foundation for your dynasty."

Robert waved his hand, as if dispelling a trace of displeasure, and accepted Highgarden's surrender. What he needed was a stable kingdom, not endless purges. The Rose of Highgarden, with its shrewd calculations and timely "loyalty," successfully preserved its original status and fragrance under the new dynasty's sunlight. And Highgarden's return also meant the reunification of the Seven Kingdoms.

Post-war King's Landing was a tangled mess, a chaotic scramble. The scorched earth needed rebuilding, order needed restoration, and the people's hearts needed soothing.

In this complex situation, Jon Arryn, as Robert's foster father and Hand of the King, held considerable sway, and Robert readily accepted and immediately implemented most of his suggestions.

However, there was one thing that the young king opposed with unusual fervor: the coronation ceremony that Duke Jon urged him to hold as soon as possible.

"No!" Robert's voice echoed through the throne room, carrying an unyielding stubbornness. He pushed aside the pile of documents before him, like a lion refusing to be bound. "Not now!"

His gaze passed over the broken window, looking south towards Dorne, his eyes burning with an almost obsessive anticipation. "I'll wait for Ned to return, for Oberyn to return, for the little sea monster to return—" His voice lowered, yet contained a deeper emotion, "Most importantly, I'll wait for Lyanna to return."

In his mind, the coronation ceremony, which symbolized the pinnacle of power, had to be carried out simultaneously with another ceremony.

Before the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, he would not only don the crown, but also marry Lyanna Stark, the woman he had long loved and for whom he had waged war. He would achieve both power and love in this pinnacle moment. Beside the Iron Throne, she must have a place.

Looking at the familiar stubbornness in his adopted son's eyes, Duke Jon knew that any advice regarding Lyanna would be futile. He could only sigh inwardly, watching the beginning of a new dynasty be forced to teeter on the dangerous edge of a power vacuum because of a steadfast love.

Eddard Stark's southward journey was more resolute than that of migrating birds. His anxiety and urgency were no less than Robert's.

Because trapped inside the Tower of Joy was his own sister, Lyanna, whom he shared blood with.

Of the four children of the serious Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell, his favorite was not the valiant Brandon, nor the steady Eddard or the clever Benjen, but his daughter Lyanna, who seemed to have been born of spring breezes and fire, brimming with vitality, and always proudly proclaiming that "wolf blood" flowed through her veins.

In Ed's silent and affectionate heart, his sister, so different from him yet radiant, was an irreplaceable treasure. At this moment, he galloped his horse at full speed, wishing only to reach the Tower of Bliss as soon as possible and see his sister.

After leaving King's Landing, the three men and three horses galloped south along the Rose Road as if whipped by an invisible lash. Eddard Stark led the way, as if trying to completely shake off the power and bloodshed behind him; his mind was only on the location of the Tower of Joy.

For a day and a night, without rest or sleep, only the sound of horses' hooves striking the ground echoed in the night.

As dawn once again painted the sky crimson, Euron Greyjoy spurred his horse to catch up with Eddard. He glanced at the white foam rising from the mouth of Eddard's mount, his voice as cold as the sea breeze: "Lord Eddard, I know you're anxious. A person can persevere through willpower, but an animal cannot. Look at your horse; if you keep going, it will die of exhaustion on the road."

Oberyn Martell approached from the other side, his tone more rational, yet also highlighting the harsh reality: "Edward, people need rest too. The war has just ended, and from King's Landing to Dorne, the road is littered with routed soldiers, opportunistic bandits, unruly mercenaries, and desperate mobs. We must maintain our strength and clear minds to face any battles that may arise." He paused, then asked a more practical question, "Besides, aren't you hungry? You can't wield your Ice Blade on an empty stomach."

""

Eddard's knuckles turned white from gripping the reins so tightly. He glanced at his horse, which was clearly at its limit, and then looked south at the seemingly endless road. After a moment of silence, he was, after all, the lord known for his pragmatism in the North. He slowly pulled on the reins and nodded heavily.

The three men reined in their horses for a rest by the Lambeth River. The horses greedily drank the cool water, while the riders sat on the ground, munching on their dry rations. The fatigue of days of travel was etched on their faces, but even heavier was the gloom that hung over their hearts.

Euron picked up his water pouch and took a swig, then looked at Eddard, whose expression remained grave, and broke the silence: "Still angry about Tywin's methods and Robert's—tacit approval?"

Eddard didn't answer directly. Instead, his gaze shifted to the silent Prince of Dorne, posing a pointed hypothetical question: "Oberyn, if the Lannisters were to treat Elia Martell the way they treated Ariana Hohen and her children, what would you do?"

Oberyn's fingers, which had been caressing the shaft of his spear, suddenly stopped. He raised his head, a cold killing intent flashing in his narrow eyes, and a cruel sneer curled at the corner of his mouth: "Then, I will personally go to Casterly Rock and cut off the head of every lion I can find, and hang it on my spear."

Euron picked up the conversation, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable, surging power: "Princess Elia has already formally divorced Rhaegar and returned to House Martell. If anyone still wants to use the absurd pretext of 'dragon seed' to harm a Dornish princess protected by the law—" He paused, his gaze sweeping over Eddard and Oberyn, "that would mean the war has begun again."

And I will not stand idly by.

Ed nodded heavily, his fist clenched, his voice low and firm, as if making a solemn vow: "If that day ever comes, the North will support you without reservation. A new dynasty must never be built on the blood of the innocent."

The gentle flow of the Lamborghini River seemed to silently witness this fragile alliance that quietly formed on its banks, a struggle against future injustices.