Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

Chapter 207 Martial Arts Tournament (4)

Mrs. He'an sat alone on the top of the city wall, looking at the rippling green waves of Shenyan Lake after the mist dissipated. It is not the sea. Any resident who lives by the lake knows that Shenyan Lake is not as turbulent and changeable as the sea. , it hides itself with the lingering white mist most of the time, and rarely opens its heart to face the world.

Myrcella walked down the tower and looked up at Mrs. He'an who was still sitting there, motionless. Her mind was disturbed by the lady, but the latter just smiled and looked away calmly, without any distractions.

"Perhaps we should go see Lord Attis Arryn, princess." Sir Arys Oakheart did not forget the purpose of his trip. He just followed the princess's gaze and glanced at the old woman on the tower. He glanced twice, then lowered his head and suggested softly.

"Of course, Ser Arys," Myrcella looked away and lifted up her skirt, "I can't wait."

The four-wheel carriage started again, the golden wheels shaking the hard mud to the ground, and headed towards the tower where the Duke was.

Attis stood up from the steamy bath. The maid wiped the water droplets off his body and wrapped him in a brand new gown.

The breastplate originally used by Canyon Knights in actual combat was replaced by a more ceremonial breastplate, with a layer of exquisite silver-plated logos added, and the Crescent Falcon came to life on the surface of the armor.

The dagger made by the craftsmen of the Free Trade City was hung diagonally on the waist. The color of the dagger handle was pure white, giving people a feeling that it could break at the touch of a touch.

An Gai whispered outside the door, "Master, the princess is here, she is under the tower."

"I know." There was no emotion in Attis' response. He straightened his sleeves and walked down the tower.

Ser Theodore watched with cold eyes as the princess's motorcade slowly drove into Harrenhal, his gray robe covering up the armor on his body.

He nodded slightly to the attendant beside him, who drove the stakes and set up the tent.

The official who registered the knighthood was obviously a monk. There was a Seven-Star Bible placed on the wooden table in front of him, although the surface was tattered and the exposed pages were yellowed and wrinkled.

"Who are you?" The monk looked at Theodore who came in front of him. The foreign appearance of the Dornishman made him look at it a few more times. "Name, when was he canonized as a knight by whom, and who certified it?" He looked at him. The benefactor was wrapped in a gray robe, and there was no sign of family status on the gray robe.

Theodore didn't say anything. He took off his gray robe and placed it on the wooden table in the registration office.

The chainmail was obviously well-made, the monk thought with a slight frown, dispelling a lot of doubts about his knighthood.

"Theodore Wells, from Dorne." Theodore introduced briefly.

The monk's eyes were like black and white beads sunk deep into his sockets, "The 'real' Theodore? Pious Sir, I was disrespectful."

Theodore took out the half-painted rainbow shield on his back and showed it to the monks, "They are all following the will of the Seven Gods."

"I understand." The monk placed the list in front of Theodore and motioned for him to write down his name. He looked at Theodore's half-drawn rainbow shield with a somewhat profound look.

"The Sons of Warriors have been disbanded a long time ago," the monk reminded, "Do you want to participate in the tournament in this name?"

"I only act in the name of the Seven Gods and discipline myself," Theodore put on his gray robe again. "When the Warrior Sons are rebuilt, I will wear the full-color shield again."

After speaking, he turned and walked towards the tent set up by the attendants.

The monk picked up the roster, looked at Theodore for a moment, stood up, and walked into the castle.

Theodore's tent was not far away from the noisy crowd. Instead, it was mixed in with the tents of the free knights. He sat in front of the tent and looked up at the various flags fluttering on the city wall, his fear evident.

The sparrows had already put on disguises and were scattered throughout the tournament venue. More believers were still behind, coming in groups.

He cannot restrain all his believers and can only command the knights under his command. Of course, this is not necessarily a bad thing.

Maybe in the chaos, he could completely kill the heretic of the Red God.

If possible, his sword would not mind tasting the blood of those who went astray to avoid greater disaster in the future.

The daughter of a bastard and the fallen duke were a perfect match.

He took off his sword, wiped it carefully, and counted the date.

Myrcella's strands of blond hair were gently fluttering in the wind, and the vaguely young face and figure in her memory had also grown, like a girl who jumped into reality from the ballad Attis listened to long ago.

The princess's cheeks were also slightly red, and the thumping of her heartbeat made Myrcella's breathing quicken.

She knelt slightly, "Duke Attis," Myrcella said softly.

She must try to maintain the reserve of the princess, Myrcella thought to herself.

Attis stepped forward, held her white hand, and kissed the back of her hand, "Welcome to Harrenhal, my princess. With your arrival, this castle has also dispelled the gloom of the past, and the warm sun can shine. "

He didn't stop for long, "Perhaps the princess can take a short rest, and the banquet to welcome you will be held as usual." Attis smiled softly, let go of Myrcella's hand, and nodded lightly to the servants on the side. The gorgeous dress was just It passed gently before Myrcella's eyes, leaving no trace of nostalgia.

Myrcella opened her mouth slightly, looking at Attis's leaving back with a sense of loss.

The duke's robes were not prepared for him. I'm afraid. Myrcella heard that Harrenhal was filled with the sound of knights competing and craftsmen knocking iron. Perhaps it was reserved for those who had achieved the Iron Throne.

Myrcella remembered the Duke's gaze before, which finally rested on her blond hair.

"Blonde," Myrcella murmured, her breathing becoming calmer.

"Blonde bastard," the sparrow whispered to his companion.

"Of course the red-robed witch seduces the bastard with the evil one." The companion responded in a low voice.

The stream to the north of Harrenhal flows gurglingly, flowing into the vast God's Eye Lake. The small river surrounds the walls on both sides of Harrenhal, and cavalry can easily step across it.

Merchant ships were carrying goods, and the air was filled with the shouts of merchants sailing away. Most of the crowd was grey-haired civilians, and Sparrow believers were also mixed in.

"The princess is here too, coming to see us from the palace of King's Landing!" The fisherman's youngest son splashed in the water and shouted loudly, as if no one in the world knew about it.

"I bet," the fisherman said to the merchant who was walking aside, "this time it will be the eagle from the valley who takes the crown and places the wreath on the princess' head!"

"Is the Regicide coming?" asked the boatman. "If he comes, I will pay half of the money in this bag."

"It's definitely coming!"

"Really?"

"Is it still fake? I followed you all the way. The blond hair on that end is definitely right."

"Place the bet for me. I'm watching. Don't be too careful."

"Okay!" The fisherman smiled flatteringly and put the money bag into his pocket.

"Long live the King and Princess!"

This shout suddenly came from the crowd, making the noisy crowd even more excited. Sparrows were scurrying among the crowd, and they looked uneasily at the new faces in front of them. Many of them seemed to come from the upper reaches of the Green Fork River, coming from the Twin Rivers area.

The places where Sir Theodore works are mostly in the lower reaches of the Green Fork and Red Fork rivers. The northern part of the Riverlands is rarely set foot in. Even around Harrenhal, it is actually difficult to intervene. Only the villages abandoned by the civilians in the God's Eye Lake can House the sparrows and the knights of the church.

"The black-haired king, the blonde princess, the bastard of incest." The rather young believer in the sparrow whispered.

The leading monk glanced at the sparrow who made the noise. Most of the monks among the sparrows did not believe Stannis' accusation of incest. This was closely related to the High Sparrow's goal, but more because the accusation came from an impious person. Stannis, so most people in the church regard it as a slur.

But Sir Theodore has a different view. In his eyes, the infiltration of the Red God is more terrifying than anything else, not to mention that the witch of the Red God controls the Duke of the Valley, who is at the center of the Seven Gods' faith.

Therefore, the knight who aspires to be the son of a warrior chooses to use all harmful information. He wants chaos and benefits from chaos.

The monk sighed slightly in his heart. These are the most devout believers of the Seven Gods. He prayed in his heart, begging the gods for their understanding.

Myrcella sat blankly beside the bed in the bedroom the Duke had prepared for her, her eyes a little absent-minded.

"I don't understand," Dokasha babbled in confusion, "The princess is so beautiful and touching, how can someone not like her, or even bother to say anything?"

After hearing what the maid said, Myrcella felt a little more lonely in her heart.

The time for the dinner was getting closer, and Myrcella's chest seemed to be blocked by something, and it was very laborious to breathe. She looked in the mirror, and her golden hair, which was once her pride, had now become a symbol of shame.

"Who are you?" Sir Alex's voice came from outside the bedroom.

But Myrcella didn't hear the response. She looked out the door and asked, "Sir Arys, who is it?"

Sir Alex seemed a little hesitant, "A red-robed monk, a woman, wants to come to see you, saying she is a guest of Duke Attis."

"Since she is the Duke's guest, please invite her in," Myrcella said.

The Kingsguard pushed the door open reluctantly and stared at the red-robed woman who walked in slowly.

Melisandre's charming figure and face instantly attracted Myrcella, who looked at her in surprise, wondering why she came to visit.

"Myrcella Baratheon," Melisandre's red eyes stared at the princess's face, "Princess of the Seven Kingdoms."

Whether it was Myrcella's illusion or something else, she always felt that the red-robed woman emphasized the word "Baratheon" a bit more.

"You are..." Myrcella asked uneasily.

Melisandre didn't respond in time, just pacing in front of Myrcella.

"The princess is asking you a question, witch." Dorcasa frowned and said to Melisandre quite hostilely.

Melisandre smiled, and looked at the Kingsguard behind her, "Can I talk to you alone?"

"Princess, it's best not to leave my sight when dealing with foreigners like this." Alex Oakheart didn't appreciate it and said to Princess Myrcella.

Myrcella hesitated for a moment, looked at the red-robed woman, and said loudly: "If you are the Duke's guest, then he is also my guest. There is no need to be rude to the guests. Sir Alex, please guard the door. Come on."

Sir Alex frowned slightly and was about to speak, but was stopped by the princess's hand. He sighed softly, turned around and walked to the door.

Myrcella looked at Dokasha, who nodded slightly and left the bedroom.

"If you wish, you can tell me your name." Myrcella took a deep breath and said to Melisandre.

"Melisandre is from Asshai. According to the Duke, I can also be from Volantis, as long as he is willing." The red-robed woman sat down on the soft chair in front of the princess and replied.

"I've heard of you." Myrcella looked at the stunning beauty of the red-robed woman, "I've heard of you, by the side of Duke Attis."

"Bind the hidden shadow to protect him, interpret the prophecy of fire to guide him, Myrcella Baratheon, your fiancé is not simple, he is the person chosen by the Lord of Light, the prince in the prophecy, destined to unite All sentient beings in the known world to fight against the coming long night.”

Melisandre spoke softly, words so magical that Myrcella couldn't help but listen.

She remembered Lady River's words, "Attis Arryn wanted to spread his wings not only over the mountains and valleys of the valley, but also over the plains, the yellow sand, and the golden caves."

"I'm sorry," Myrcella said, smiling kindly, "I don't understand what you meant."

"You have to understand," Melisandre said, she leaned close to Myrcella's cheek, and the latter couldn't help but step back, "I can do many things for you, fill his desires, and satisfy him with my bed skills."

Myrcella swallowed, her cheeks trembling slightly.

"But you, lion or stag, Lannister and Baratheon, what the Duke needs is a pure and chaste female deer, not a violent and irritable lioness." Melisandre's words were like needles, making Messiah La's heart couldn't help but tighten.

Myrcella looked at Melisandre and opened her mouth slightly, "What should I do?"

"Let me help you, princess," Melisandre said softly.

"Why, why help me?" Myrcella was puzzled, "You are not, you are not the Duke's." Mistress, the princess did not say this word after all.

Melisandre smiled slightly, "Helping you means helping the Duke, and we will all be by his side."

She gently lifted Myrcella's golden hair and smelled the fragrance, her smile not diminishing.

The banquet was held as usual, not only to welcome the princess, but also as a final gathering for the jousting competition later on.

The nobles and knights saluted in front of the Duke one after another and looked for seats at the banquet. However, after a long time, the most important guest of the dinner, the princess, never arrived.

The steward kept looking at the open door of the Hundred Furnace Hall, muttering about the list of nobles at the banquet. He turned to look at the wine boy aside, "Go and see where Her Royal Highness the Princess is, why haven't you arrived yet?"

The bartender ran out of the side door. The butler looked up at the empty seat next to the Duke, and his inner uneasiness became more obvious.

After waiting for a while, the steward quietly walked up to the Duke and whispered, "Duke Attis, Princess..."

The page boy in front of the door shouted loudly, "Princess of Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms, daughter of Robert Baratheon I, sister of Joffrey Baratheon I, Attis... Lord Arryn’s fiancée, Myrcella Baratheon of House Baratheon!”

Everyone's eyes were attracted to the coming princess. Her stunning beauty aroused the envy of all the female relatives, and her elegant and slender figure attracted the fiery eyes of the knights.

She walked slowly towards Duke Attis, gently lifted her skirt, "Duke Attis, my fiancé."

Attis looked at her and slowly stood up from his seat with some surprise, "You are extremely beautiful tonight, my fiancée."

Myrcella understood the interaction between nobles and lowered her head shyly.

The long hair on the head is as dark as the dark night.

　The age of Myrcella is based on the drama version. I know there will be bugs, please ignore them.

　　Chapter, 4000 words

　　

　

(End of this chapter)