Game of Thrones: Viserys the Three-Headed Dragon

The Seastone is the ancient throne of the Iron Islands.

It looks like a giant sea monster, carved from a black, shiny stone. Legend has it that when the First Men first set foot on Old Wyk, this stone lay on the beach.

Euron Greyjoy sat on the Seastone, his black eyes looking down at the mortals under the throne.

Including his two sons, these mortals are narrow-minded, ignorant and vain, which makes him bored.

The son he fed to the sea monster was better. But only a little. That son helped him wake the sea monster in the deep sea, fight the three-headed dragon, and drive the sea monster to salvage the wreckage of the Serenity. The child was really obedient. Just like his mother, the woman who believed that it was just a game between them before her tongue was cut off and tied to the bow of the ship.

Euron likes quietness.

Since returning to the Iron Islands, he is no longer surrounded by quiet sailors.

Words are like wind.

These mortals make him bored.

They love to pray, but they don't realize that they should pray to him the most, not their so-called gods.

"Heh. Kingsmoot?"

Euron chuckled, and the throne room fell silent.

His brother Aeron Damphair, like all the so-called gods' priests in this world, knows nothing about this world, and tries to prevent him from becoming the king of the Iron Islands in this way.

It's a waste of effort.

They should have come to Pyke Island as he asked in the raven message, kneeled down to him, made him king, and then listened to his orders to feast on the corpses of this world, feasting as the whole Westeros was heading for destruction and their doomsday was coming.

But these mortals always do meaningless things. Isn't it enough for him to drown the opponents to please the Drowned God in their mouths? Must they hope that this pathetic god will make a so-called choice?

Who knows the gods better than him? The horse god, the fire god, the golden god with gemstone eyes, the god carved in cedar wood, the god carved on the rock, the god without a form... He knows them all.

People sacrificed to what they thought were gods, slaughtered goats, bulls, women and children in their name.

He had heard people pray in dozens of different languages.

People prayed for protection from their enemies, for protection from the darkness, for them to live, for them not to be plundered and slaughtered by him.

Thousands of gods, from Iban to Ashai, followers of any god. Seeing his sails would pray to their gods.

So why not pray directly to him?

Those gods were all false… they were false, and even if they had so-called divine powers, they were insignificant and could not stop him from killing them, doing so-called evil to them, letting their blood spill in the sea, sowing his seed into their crying women…

Praying to gods was just because mortals could not see the truth.

It was he who decided their life and death, so why not kneel down and pray to him, fooled mortals?

He had seen the shadow of the north, been to Asshai beside the Shadow Land, been to the so-called Cursed Land of Sothoryos, been to the ruins of Valyria, and fought against the three-headed dragon.

The miracles and horrors he witnessed were beyond the imagination of mortals, and his understanding of the gods and his attempts were beyond the reach of mortals with all their wisdom and ambition. He had gone far enough, and he knew.

The priest of the Drowned God said: "Those who do not respect the gods will never sit on the Seastone Seat!"

Now he is on the Seastone Seat, what can the hypocritical gods who are helpless without the mortals at their mercy do to him?

Euron could even imagine that in front of his brother Aeron Damphair, he could represent the supreme glory of the Drowned God more devoutly than the priests of the Drowned God in the eyes of these mortals, perform their duties as the Drowned God, and promote the ancient traditions of the Drowned God's people.

It only takes a little trick to fool and manipulate mortals.

Euron knew that he knew the truth about magic and gods, and if he could do what the gods could do, why couldn't he become a true god in this world?

His smiling eye sparkled and gave an answer to these mortals: "Write back and tell them that I will go to the kingsmoot and will be chosen as king."

——

Arya could feel the emptiness inside. It was not hunger and thirst, but emptiness, a kind of nothingness.

The place where her brothers, sisters and parents were originally disappeared.

She had a headache, which had been for a few days, but it was still quite strong.

Arya knew that she would never be able to eliminate the emptiness in her heart. This emptiness would never get better.

Sometimes tears would often flow unconsciously, but as time passed, there was only a kind of tiredness left.

If possible, Arya didn't want to wake up at all. She closed her eyes and wanted to fall asleep again.

In her dream, she had never been to the Twins, had never seen the fire and blood there, had never heard the screams and wails there, she didn't know what happened there, and there was no hound around her.

In her dream, she was a wolf, tall, strong, agile, and swift. She led a pack of wolves. She ran faster than a horse, fought better than a lion, and humans hid away when she showed her teeth.

In her dream, she was not hungry, her fur kept her warm, and she was not afraid of autumn rain or cold wind.

In her dream, she had many brothers and sisters, who were in packs, fierce and terrifying, and would never leave.

Sandor Clegane picked her up and shook her, and ordered her in a harsh voice: "Little she-wolf, get up and feed the damn horse."

She didn't want to get up, and wanted to kick him, but he just laughed.

Cowards and strangers always need tending. Arya didn't like cowards, and the morning after the massacre they met it wandering in the fields, without a rider on its back. It's a coward who escaped. Strangers will resist.

The hound no longer watched her as closely as before, and sometimes seemed not to care whether she stayed or left. She should have killed him while he slept, or run away, but she never did, she didn't know where to go.

She stayed behind to keep company with the hounds. He rode on horseback every day, never slept in the same place twice, and tried to avoid towns, villages, and castles.

From time to time a group of riders would pass through the winding field roads, holding high the twin tower banners of House Frey.

"They are hunting the northerners who have slipped through the net," the hunting dog said as the other party passed by. "When you hear the sound of horse hooves, lower your head quickly."

On this day, in a mud pit far away from the road, they met face to face with another survivor of the Twin River City Incident. He said that he was just a messenger. In the service of Lord Blackwood.

"The Yankee did it," he cried, "the Yankee with the little bloody man on his chest. I drank the wedding wine there, waiting for the king to summon him. The Yankees and I toasted to his Lord Bolton, to Lord Edmure, to Rose Lady Lin toasts with the King of the North, and then he is going to kill me. "He is almost dead, his lips are white, his eyes are black, the wounds on his body are full of pus and blood, and he smells like a corpse. , "Give me wine, please."

"If there was wine, I would have drank it," the hound told him. "I can give you water, and mercy."

The messenger stared at him. "You are Sandor Clegane."

"Would you like some water?"

"Yes," he said, licking his white lips, "and mercy, thank you."

The hound handed the helmet to Arya and asked her to trek to fill the water. The most important thing in the riverlands was the pond.

Seeing her return, the messenger tried his best to lift his body and catch the water with his mouth. He swallowed as fast as she fell. He drank almost the entire water in the helmet, and the water that he couldn't swallow flowed down his cheeks, seeping into the white wounds from his neck to his shoulders, and dark brown blood clots.

"It feels so good," he said. "It's even better with wine."

"I want to, too." The hunting dog inserted the dagger into the man's chest almost gently, and used the weight of his body to drive the tip of the knife into his heart. He drew the weapon and looked at Arya as he wiped it on the dead body. "That's where the heart is, little sister. That's how to kill."

The messenger had a few silver stags and copper plates in his pocket, and the sword at his side was missing. Only a dagger was thrown to Arya by the hounds.

The Hound took off the dead man's boots and compared them. They found they were too small for him and too big for Arya, so they put them back on. The dead man's mail was hard to carry, so Arya took the round helmet with her.

"The messenger's horse must be a good horse, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to escape this far," Clegane said, looking around. "It's a pity. No one knows how long he has been here."

Arya found the mailbox hidden on his waist. She picked it up and opened the lid. There was a rolled paper letter inside.

Before she could open it, the hound snatched the roll of paper away.

"Damn, the seal of the three-headed dragon?" The hunting dog opened the roll of paper and spat in disbelief.

"What do you mean, what is written in the letter?" The hound was too tall, and Arya couldn't see the content of the letter from the side.

"Targaryen Dragon King? Damn it, how many kings are there on this continent?" the hunting dog cursed.

"Targaryen?" Arya became curious. Seeing the hound let go, she immediately reached out and snatched the letter back, "Show it to me."

This is a letter written by King Targaryen of Dragonstone to the princes in the river, ordering Robb to go north to assume the responsibility of guarding the North and go to the Great Wall to rescue him.

Arya doesn't care about Targaryen, but she cares about her other brother on the Wall: "What happened to the Wall?" Jon must not have anything happen to him.

The hound did not answer her, but continued to overturn the mailbox.

Another letter was poured out.

The letter was stained with blood, which should be the blood of the letter crow that was shot down.

"Fuck!" The hunting dog scolded, "You may have become more valuable, little wolf girl. Which heir are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your brother Robb has no heirs. Your brothers are all dead. Your sister Sansa is in the hands of the Lannister in King's Landing. You are the only Stark heir outside." This letter was written by Targaryen to the North. It belongs to Flint, but for some reason it fell into the hands of Blackwood. Blackwood's messenger was originally going to deliver this letter to Robb.

"Robb's not dead! The Freys didn't necessarily want to kill them. Maybe Lord Frey just captured them. Maybe they were being tied up in the dungeons, or being taken to King's Landing so Joffrey could chop off their heads. We don't know. We should go back," she suddenly decided. "We should go back to Twin River City to find my mother. She won't die. Let's save her."

The Hound was also confused. He had wanted to return Arya to her brother Robb in exchange for a large ransom and a place in his tent. After escaping from the Twins this time, he originally wanted to go to the Eyrie to find Arya's aunt Lysa in exchange for ransom. But looking at it now, maybe I should choose Riverrun or find a way to send this girl to the north.

He didn't dare to go to Dragonstone. What the Mountain had done made it impossible for the Clegane family to gain Targaryen's forgiveness. The Hound didn't want to have his head chopped off by King Targaryen because of this damn surname.

The only thing that needs to be confirmed is how many troops this Targaryen king has and how much weight his letter has in this continent.

The Hound heard "The Rains of Castamere" outside the Twins. Lannister is undoubtedly the winner now, and as a deserter of the Battle of Blackwater, he can't sell Arya to Lannister.

"No, Frey may keep your mother alive for ransom. But damn, I can't get her out by myself." The Hound roared, "Look at this letter, little wolf girl, you can have other ways to save your mother-if she is not dead, but seven layers of hell, we have to find a way to confirm whether this king's words are effective in this area."

"What are you talking about, what other ways?"

"Find a group of ambitious people to support you to become the fucking Guardian of the North. Seven layers of hell, this can't happen! But it's always right to go to Riverrun. Your Blackfish uncle needs you no matter which side he stands on. God bless, he will definitely pay the ransom for you skinny thing."