Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

It seemed like the "wrong spring". After many days of continuous drizzle, the weather in Harrenhal finally saw the sun that broke through the clouds. The sun was like a long flame, tearing the clouds, burning and spreading.

The mist on the surface of the God's Eye Lake gradually dissipated, rippling out clear green water waves, gurgling, and fish and shrimps darted around on the water from time to time. The rare tranquility after the start of the war seemed to spread in the cursed castle of Harrenhal.

Even Lady Hean, who had been bedridden for a long time, accompanied by her maid, rarely stood on the tower on the lake side of Harrenhal, quietly looking at this rare beauty from afar.

Baratheon's crowned stag flag fluttered at the front of the caravan, passing through the intricate bushes and puddles around Harrenhal, with the wheels covered with mud after the rain. The blue crescent falcon flags occupied both sides of the caravan originally protected by the Lannister lion flag. Waymar Royce and the Vale cavalry behind him, wearing blue robes, holding spears and shields, marched on the ground in a mighty and unerring manner, making the sound of "clacking" horseshoes, showing the majesty of the royal family and the Vale.

The large number of knights' tents set up at the gate of Harrenhal looked like colorful ribbons from a distance. The colorful small flags not only fluttered on the walls of Harrenhal, but also rustled on the wooden ropes that tied the knights' tents, not to mention that the materials of these tents were painted with various colors.

"Tommen will definitely like this place." Myrcella looked at the huge castle in front of her in amazement. She had been here with her father, but Harrenhal was so deserted at that time. The widowed Lady Harren became an old witch with wrinkled skin covered with toads in Joffrey's mouth. This terrifying castle was like Balerion, the black god of death, with his bloody mouth opened wide. Now.

Groups of masons and stonemasons were playing leisurely by the city wall. The smell of honey came from afar. Myrcella looked at the wooden barrels loaded on the donkey cart. She was sure that the people riding the donkey were sugar makers from Maidenfoun or Saltpan Town, because the princess lived in the palace and had only tasted the candies produced in these two places.

The pot-bellied brewer, the weaver operating the spinning wheel, and the miller commanding a cart of grain bags

I'm afraid that everyone in the riverlands has come here, Myrcella thought.

She looked at the tallest tower of Harrenhal, where the blue and white banner of the Crescent Falcon fluttered in the wind, and her expectation of meeting Duke Artis grew stronger.

"No one can stop me from going out, I am the king!" Joffrey shouted at his mother.

Cersei was only so patient when dealing with Joffrey, and she tried her best to keep smiling, "You are the king, no one denies it, so you have to stay in King's Landing to resist the rebels from Storm's End and Dragonstone."

"Puff!" Joffrey laughed, and his tone was still disdainful, "I have long ordered the capital guards and Tywin Lannister to go south to fight Stannis, the rebel, but he was cowardly and timid, hiding in the walls of King's Landing and dared not send troops. Otherwise, under my rule, the Seven Kingdoms would have long been under my throne, and there would be no war?"

Even Cersei would find this sentence absurd, "Lord Tywin is your grandfather, my father, and a member of the royal family." Cersei restrained her smile and wanted to show the majesty of the queen mother.

"I only see an ambitious man who controls the government and covets power!" Joffrey shook his sleeves and roared.

Cersei's mouth opened and closed, hesitating and unable to speak. She approached Joffrey and held his hand. "If it weren't for grandpa, your head would have been hanging on the top of King's Landing. If it weren't for the Lannister army, you would have been slaughtered countless times by Stannis. How can you feel this way?"

Joffrey broke away from Cersei's hand. "I only heard the minstrels tell the story of the eagle Red Comet's victory over the young wolves. I haven't heard of lions winning on the battlefield anywhere." He stared at his mother. "Maybe the real loyal minister is Artis Arryn, who my father Robert wanted me to follow as a squire, not my dear grandpa."

Cersei grabbed Joffrey's collar and forced him to look into her wide eyes. "Listen to me, Joffrey, your father Robert married me just to let you With the support of the Lannister lion, not the Arryn of the Vale, Eddard Stark is still your father's self-proclaimed brother, but he still assassinated your father and wanted to sit on the throne that belongs to you? "

"So far," Cersei's shrill voice almost tore Joffrey's eardrums, "only the Lannisters, my father Tywin, and your uncle Jaime are fighting bloody battles, and that Artis Arryn, who defeated Robb Stark by luck, used a lot of spoils to let you, the king he should kneel to, stand on the front line of King's Landing, while he held a tournament in Harrenhal in the back. This is contempt for the Iron Throne and the king!"

Joffrey's neck was reddened by the collar. Cersei saw it and quickly let go of her hand, watching Joffrey adjust his collar with disgust.

Joffrey looked at Cersei, "Remember, I am your king, don't call me Joffrey anymore." He turned away angrily, and the Kingsguard hurriedly followed him and left together.

Cersei stood alone behind him, watching Joffrey's back getting farther and farther away, her brows furrowed deeper, and worry filled her brows.

Outside the castle, a huge platform for the public to watch has been built. In the middle of the jousting, the crowned stag symbolizing the royal family and the crescent falcon flag of the Vale fluttered side by side in the wind. The dyer was doing the final color matching, and the carpenter was checking the quality of the platform. Everything was ready for the jousting.

Myrcella's motorcade stopped next to the tower. Weimar whispered to Myrcella in the car: "Princess, the residence the Duke has arranged for you is here."

Dorcasa suppressed her excitement. It seemed that she was even more excited than the master she served. "Princess, maybe we should meet with the Duke as soon as possible. We have never met since you got engaged."

Myrcella took a deep breath and looked at the towering black tower in front of her. "Don't be impatient, Dokasha," she held her chest, her face gradually returning to calm, "I am a princess of the royal family, and I should maintain my dignity."

She opened the curtain and said, "Sir Weimar, please give me directions to my servants and let them put my luggage. I am a princess and I represent the royal family and my brother King Joffrey abroad. I should visit Lady Hean first to express my gratitude. Royal care." Myrcella looked apologetically to Wayma and nodded slightly to Ser Arys of the Kingsguard.

Weimar frowned slightly and pointed to the city wall in the distance, "Mrs. He'an should be in the bedroom or the city wall near the God's Eye Lake. The steward of Harrenhal may be able to show you the way."

Myrcella nodded slightly and smiled, "It couldn't be better." She pulled up the curtain again, lowered her head and played with the ends of her golden hair.

"Aren't you looking forward to the stars and the moon, counting the days until you can see the Duke outside King's Landing? Why do you calm down when you are already there?" Dorcasa asked in confusion.

Myrcella winked playfully and said nothing. Instead, she lay back on the soft bed and closed her eyes to rest.

After all, Harrenhal still belongs to the He'an family in name. As a princess, if she goes beyond Mrs. He'an to see the Duke directly, I am afraid that not only will the Duke regard her as frivolous and unruly, but the Duke's own situation in Harrenhal will also be criticized by the nobles. The old tradition questioned that she was not willing to cause such unnecessary trouble to Attis.

She touched her chest, her heart beating so hard that she couldn't calm down. Myrcella pursed her lips, remembering her uncle Tyrion's words.

"Fall in love with Duke Attis. It will be good for Lannister, for you, for Cersei, and for Joffrey." Tyrion said to himself at the gate of King's Landing when he was trying to persuade him to stay.

When Attis won the tourney on Joffrey's name day and presented him with a wreath, Myrcella could never forget it.