Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 302 The Future of the Targaryens

Although the war in King's Landing has ended, the burden of power weighs down on us more heavily than swords.

Robert Baratheon was like a giant beast trapped in a golden cage, forced to sit daily on the Iron Throne, forged from a thousand swords that constantly pierced him, listening to the endless petitions and disputes pouring in from all over the Seven Kingdoms.

Taxes, disasters, disputes among vassals, border frictions—these trivial and tedious administrative matters, like countless gnats, constantly gnawed at the nerves of this warrior. He was often as agitated as a caged lion, his thick fingers tapping the armrest of the throne with a dull thud, barely suppressing the urge to overturn the piles of documents in front of him.

If it weren't for his adoptive father, the newly appointed Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn, who acted like an experienced animal trainer and a sturdy dam, silently managing the affairs of state and blocking most of the trivialities, Robert would probably have lost all patience under this suffocating pressure and smashed the newly stabilized nascent dynasty to pieces.

The atmosphere at the dinner was far from relaxed. Although the long table was laden with fine wines and delicacies, Robert’s loud complaints almost drowned out the clatter of cutlery.

Jon Arryn sat opposite him, expressionless as he cut the steak on his plate with the methodical ease of handling state affairs, quietly listening to every grumble from the king.

Suddenly, Jon put down his knife and fork, lightly wiping his mouth with a napkin. He spoke casually, but his question, like a precise dagger, pierced the noisy facade: "Your Majesty!" His tone was serious. "Have you ever considered why Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, and especially Euron Greyjoy, someone capable of building a crown of corpses from countless heads, would be so deeply troubled by the deaths of Ariana He'an and her child?"

Robert, who was taking a big gulp of ale, waved his hand impatiently at the words. "How many times have I told you, Godfather! Just call me Robert, like always!" He slammed his glass on the table and said angrily, "What could it be? Just that damn chivalrous sense of honor that Southerners always talk about? Or just womanly sentimentality!" His tone was full of contempt for such sentiments, clearly without considering the deeper meaning behind them.

Jon ignored Robert's complaints. He picked up his glass, gazing calmly ahead, as if recalling something. After a long pause, he slowly spoke, "Robert, do you remember the princess of Dorne?"

Robert responded gruffly, a hint of impatience in his voice: "Arianne? That hot, sexy girl? Why bring her up?"

"No," Jon shook his head slightly, his voice lowering, "I'm talking about Elijah."

"Ilya?" Robert frowned, searching his memory for the name. Then he recalled their journey back to Storm's End and Dorne after the tournament, and asked, puzzled, "What happened to her?"

Jon put down his glass and let out a barely audible sigh: "Elia Martell, Rhaegar's wife."

Robert coughed lightly and corrected him, his tone slightly stiff, "It's his ex-wife. They divorced a long time ago."

“Indeed,” Jon nodded slightly, but his gaze grew even more serious. “But they once had a daughter. That girl carried Rhaegar’s blood; she was a true Targaryen.”

Robert's casual expression froze instantly. He was stunned, as if struck by those words, and didn't know how to respond for a moment.

Jon Snow did not back down. He stared into Robert's eyes and continued to hurl the most pointed question: "Your Majesty, if the ironclad rule of 'eliminating all Targaryens' is truly to be upheld, then shouldn't Elijah's daughter—the child with Rhaegar's blood flowing through her veins—be included on that list as well?"

Robert seemed stung, his voice tinged with anger and defensiveness: "I never said that—did Oberyn and Euron do it because of that—" He seemed to want to distance himself from Tywin's cruelty.

Jon pressed on, his tone calm yet icy: "Then tell me plainly, do you want to kill her? Just as you declared in the throne room that day, to exterminate all Targaryens, just as Tywin did with Ariana Hoon and her baby?"

"Do you take me for Aerys the Mad King?!" Robert roared, slamming his fist on the table, making the dishes rattle. "I would never give such an order! Even for Ariana Hoan's bastard son, born of the Mad King's rape, I never ordered his death! But that old lion Tywin did it. Can I put my smashed head back in? Or turn against the Lannisters because of it? As for Elia, she's a friend of mine. We fought together against the Mad King's army. And since the Tournament of Harrenhal, Elia and Rhaegar divorced and severed all ties. They have no connection whatsoever; that's a well-known fact throughout the Seven Kingdoms!"

Jon's gaze remained steady as he softly uttered the unavoidable words: "But that girl, by blood, is still Targaryen."

Robert opened his mouth, but all the words of explanation seemed to get stuck in his throat. He fell silent, only his heavy breathing echoing in the hall; that silence itself was a heavy answer.

Jon Snow's gaze was as deep as an ancient well. He calmly continued to advance his logic: "Elijah is not only Rhaegar's ex-wife, she is first and foremost the younger sister of the Prince of Dorne, the sister of Oberyn Martell, and, moreover, the de facto princess of Dorne. Your Majesty, do you expect a mother to stand idly by and watch her daughter be murdered? And Euron of the Iron Islands, his relationship with Princess Elijah is far deeper than outsiders imagine."

"Euron? And Elijah?" Robert's curiosity was ignited, mixed with disbelief. "How did they get together—" His thoughts seemed to have been led in an unexpected direction, but he had gone off-topic.

Jon Snow steered the conversation back to the heart of the matter, his voice low but carrying immense weight: "What I want to make clear is that if you are truly determined to pursue that policy of annihilation, then the war that the Seven Kingdoms have just quelled will be reignited by the wrath of Dorne and the Iron Islands. And this time," he paused, each word crystal clear, "Ned Stark will no longer be on your side, and Euron Greyjoy will become your enemy."

"I told you! I won't give such an order!" Robert growled, like a cornered lion. "What else do you want me to say?!"

Seeing that the time was ripe, Jon Snow proposed a concrete solution: "Then you must immediately issue a formal decree to all the lords of the Seven Kingdoms, clearly declaring that the War of the Usurper is completely over. Furthermore, it must be announced to the world that Elia Martell and her daughter, who have severed ties with the Targaryen family, will not be harmed because of their bloodline. This is to appease Dorne..."

"A necessary measure to stabilize the situation." He paused, then continued, "At the same time, this is also the magnanimity that a ruler must possess!"

Robert, panting, glared at Jon, but eventually his tense shoulders slumped, and with a hint of weariness and resignation, he muttered, "That's how it should be."

Jon had barely mentioned "the wording of the decree—" when Robert impatiently waved his hand, interrupting him with a look of utter disgust for this kind of paperwork: "You're far more adept at word choice and sentence structure than I am! Just do what you think is right, as long as the meaning is clear and the maesters don't find fault with it."

Jon nodded slightly. The core of the matter had been settled, and all he needed was this authorization. He said, "Alright, then this matter is settled."

Just when Jon thought the conversation was over, Robert seemed to be suddenly struck by some sharp memory. He raised his head, his eyes sharpened again, and his voice deepened: "But there is one thing that must be made clear: the mother and child on Dragonstone are not within the scope of my forgiveness."

Jon seemed to have anticipated this, responding calmly without a trace of emotion: "Of course. Queen Leila and her unborn child are in a completely different situation from Elijah, who has divorced and returned home, and should be treated differently."

Jon continued, "There's one more thing..."

Robert sighed, rubbing his forehead, and put down his knife and fork. "By the Seven Gods! Now that I'm king, can't I even enjoy my meal?"