Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 309 Jon Snow—No, his name is Daeron Greyjoy!

The agreement was made, and the seven spent a silent night in the Tower of Bliss.

The next morning, it was time to part ways.

Euron turned to Ed, his voice exceptionally clear in the hot wind: "The child needs a name. You are the child's closest blood relative in this world, and it is most fitting for you to name him."

Ed gazed for a long time at the sleeping baby in Asara's arms, his grey eyes swirling with complex emotions—

He was filled with grief for his sister, helplessness over the past, and the heavy responsibility for the newborn's future. He paused for a moment, then slowly shook his head, his voice hoarse but firm: "No. He will be publicly your and Ashara's son, a Greyjoy. His name—should be given by his 'parents.'"

Euron and Ashara exchanged a glance, their eyes meeting in a silent understanding. Euron looked back at Eddard, then swept his gaze across everyone present, as if making a declaration to all the witnesses. He paused for a moment, then spoke slowly, each word seemingly carefully considered: "He inherited the resilience of the direwolf and the blood of the dragon; he is the fruit of ice and fire. He was born on the crimson sands of Dorne, witnessing the end of the old era and the dawn of the new—"

Euron paused, then continued, "He needs a fresh start, a name that reflects his extraordinary lineage without arousing suspicion. He will be our son, a union of the blood of the Iron Islands and Starfall. His name is Darren Darren Greyjoy."

"Daren," Asara repeated softly, looking down at the baby in her arms, her gaze gentle yet firm, "is a name that carries history and power, belonging to great kings and conquerors. May he, like Daren in history, possess the courage and wisdom to forge a future, yet also walk his own peaceful path."

Eddard looked deeply at Euron, and finally nodded heavily and slowly.

The name Daeron Greyjoy thus replaced the potentially storm-inducing "Jon Snow," providing a crucial first layer of disguise for a child's future. Euron had at least achieved half of his goal; Jon was such an ordinary name that any random stone thrown from the Seven Kingdoms could kill several people.

Eddard Stark carefully and solemnly wrapped his sister Lyanna's body in his heavy cloak, as if bidding her a silent farewell (Ashara had already washed her body and dressed her in clean clothes). After kissing Daeron Greyjoy's forehead, he and Ser Oswell Heaney embarked on the arduous journey north.

First, they needed to return to King's Landing. There, Eddard would have to face Robert in person and deliver the devastating news that would shatter all the king's hopes—the death of Lyanna. It was destined to be a difficult and painful negotiation.

He will also carry with him the white robes and silver armor removed by three Kingsguard members—Geralt Hightower, Arthur Dayne, and Oswell Heane. These garments, once symbols of unparalleled glory, will be returned to the Iron Throne as cold, lifeless evidence of the end of old oaths, silently recounting what happened beneath the Tower of Joy and the complete end of an era.

After completing this poignant mission, Eddard will carry Lyanna's remains back to the far north, allowing her to finally rest in the family cemetery in Winterfell, beneath the snows of her homeland.

Ser Oswell Riverside will then travel to the scarred Harrenhal, where his niece Ariana, one of the last remaining members of the Riverside family, lives. As the eldest male member of the family, he must return and use his remaining strength and the rest of his life to protect this last remaining relative and shoulder the responsibility of rebuilding the family's future.

Two swift horses, carrying two different heavy responsibilities, headed north amidst the dust.

Euron, Oberyn, Arthur Dayne, Gerald Hightower, and Ashara, carrying baby Daren, turned south toward Sunspear, the capital of Dorne.

The scorching sunlight shone on the winding Prince's Pass, casting long shadows of them.

In Sunspear, in that ancient palace of rammed earth and brick overlooking the Shadow City, a long-awaited wedding will take place. Euron Greyjoy and Ashara Dayne will fulfill their "three-year vow." This city, which has witnessed countless conquests and loves, will once again bear witness to a covenant linking the Iron Islands and Dorne.

At the wedding, a highly symbolic moment will inevitably arrive: Sir Arthur Dayne will personally hand over his beloved sister Ashara to Euron Greyjoy.

Arthur Dayne didn't immediately set off for the Wall because he wanted to witness his sister's wedding. Geralt Hightower, on the other hand, wanted to travel with his longtime brother and also hoped the excitement and joy of the wedding would distract him from his current mood.

They traveled southeast from the Tower of Joy along the eastern foothills of the Crimson Mountains, reaching the upper reaches of the Greenblood River, and then downstream to Starfall. From Starfall, they headed south, traversing the Dornish Desert along the Greenblood River oasis belt. This route passed through several small oases—Plate Town and Erenwood—and was more advantageous than other routes in terms of resupply and childcare.

Meanwhile, Euron's father, mother, brother, nephews, and nieces were already sailing towards Dorne aboard the giant ship named "Wrath of the Grey Sea King."

Eddard Stark returned to the Red Keep, weary from his journey, his heavy footsteps echoing through the stone corridors.

When he pushed open the doors of the throne room, Robert was sitting high on the Iron Throne, discussing state affairs with Jon Arryn below.

"Ned!" Robert exclaimed, immediately pushing aside the flask beside him as he saw his best friend. His bloodshot eyes lit up. "You're back! Where's Lyanna? Where is my Lyanna?"

Ed knelt on one knee, his dusty cloak trailing on the ground. He raised his head, his grey eyes filled with a sorrow Robert had never seen before.

"Speak, Ned!" Robert pounded anxiously on the iron armrest of the throne. "Where is she? I need to see her immediately!"

"Your Majesty," Eddard's voice was dry and hoarse, "I brought back Lyanna, but—not her alive."

The throne room was deathly silent.

Robert's expectant expression froze instantly. He slowly stood up, oblivious to the fact that the sharp blade of the Iron Throne had cut his palm.

“We found her at the Tower of Joy,” Ed continued, each word seemingly forced out of his throat. “She—was imprisoned there by Rhaegar. By the time we arrived, her body had already been worn down by long imprisonment and worry. She had contracted a persistent high fever and was seriously ill. By the time we reached the Tower of Joy—it was too late.”

"No—" Robert staggered down from the throne. "You lied to me, Ned, you fucking lied to me!"

Eddard gestured for the guards to bring in a coffin carefully wrapped in northern fur. He personally lifted a corner of the fur to reveal Lyanna's pale yet still beautiful face, a face he had asked the maesters of Dorne to preserve using special methods.

"Before she died," Ed's voice trembled, "she kept calling your and Brandon's names. She said—she was sorry to you both."

Ed felt guilty for deceiving Robert, and he also remembered Lyanna's repeated words before she died: Ned, promise me, promise me, promise me—Lyanna did not call for Robert, or even for Brandon; she just kept praying to Ed that her child could live!

Robert collapsed beside the coffin, the giant who had once shattered Rhaegar's chest with a single blow now wailing like a child. His tears fell onto Lyanna's cold cheeks, his thick fingers carefully tracing the corners of her already stiff lips.

Eddard knelt on one knee on the cold stone floor, solemnly placing three neatly folded white robes and gleaming silver armor at Robert's feet. The pure white fabrics stood out starkly in the dimly lit throne room.

"These are the armors of the three Kingsguard officers who were ordered to guard and protect Lyanna." Eddard's voice was steady, yet carried an undeniable weight.

Robert's bloodshot eyes were fixed on the white robes, as if he could see the shadow of his sister's imprisonment in them. "Where are they?" he hissed through clenched teeth, a suppressed roar.

"Arthur Dayne and Geralt Hightower," Eddard answered clearly, "will travel north to the Wall, don the black robes, and become Night's Watchmen, spending the rest of their lives protecting the Kingdom as atonement. Oswell Hoan will return to his remaining family and take on the responsibility of caring for and reviving his family."

"They got off too easy!" Robert suddenly raised his head, his eyes burning with a frenzied rage. He roared like a wounded lion, "They got off too easy! They guarded her! They imprisoned her! And then they just watched her wither away! How dare they live?!" He slammed his massive fist against the armrest of the Iron Throne beside him with a dull thud.

Eddard faced his best friend's raging fury, which seemed to consume him, his grey eyes unwavering. He raised his voice, and for the first time, the calm and authority of the Lord in the North was clearly displayed before Robert: "They watched over her, but they also protected her, keeping her from the ravages of war. They did not participate in the Battle of the Trident, nor did they appear in King's Landing to defend their mad king. They did not harm Lyanna in the slightest, and they did their utmost."

He paused, his gaze fixed intently on Robert: "Robert, my love and longing for Lyanna are no less than yours. But her passing was due to long-term loneliness and sorrow, not to the swords of the Kingsguard. They have paid the price for their loyalty—losing the king they served, losing the honor of the Kingsguard, and will live the rest of their lives in duty and guilt. That punishment is enough. They—did not deserve death."

Eddard's words were as firm and resolute as the ice of the North. He was using his consistent integrity and his friendship with Robert to secure a way out for the three knights, and also to add a strong lock to the secret he was keeping.

He turned, drew his warhammer, and smashed it wildly against a nearby stone pillar, sending shards of stone flying. "I will slaughter all Targaryen supporters! I will—"

"Robert!" Eddard interrupted the king in such a stern tone for the first time. "Lyanna wouldn't want to see you like this. Her dying wish was for you to be a wise and virtuous king."

Jon Arryn stepped forward to support Robert, who was on the verge of collapse, and gently comforted him.

After a long while, Robert finally calmed down. He gazed intently at Lyanna in the coffin and whispered, "I will give her the grandest funeral in the history of the Seven Kingdoms."

"She deserves it," Ed replied softly. "But she wants to go back to the North more. I will bury her in the family cemetery, where Brandon and her father will be with her."

"No, damn it, you still want to take her away from me—no, I won't allow it!"

Ed shook his head in silence, but his mind was made up, as firm as a rock.

After Robert was finally helped away by his servants, Eddard stood alone in the empty throne room, his palms sweating profusely.

He had just protected a child's life and his best friend's heart with a carefully crafted lie. He silently swore in his heart: "Sister, I promised to protect him. Even if it means deceiving the whole world, even if it means carrying the burden of a lie for a lifetime."