The Mountain of Ice and Fire

“Can I trust you?” Gracy Tybesha lowered her voice, her eyes sharp.

Shea nodded, her heart filled with vigilance.

Annie hesitated, her distrust written all over her face.

“Good, I need your help recently, you all have to listen to me…”

*

In the Red Keep's training grounds, the Mountain arrived, riding a Red Smoke Beast.

“Think of the direwolves, child,” Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, said, “Red Smoke Beasts are more ferocious magical creatures than direwolves. Who would try to get close to a direwolf just because they admire it? No one, because the direwolf would take their life.”

A hint of fear flashed in Joffrey's eyes. His fear of direwolves was deeply rooted in his heart. On his right hand, there was still a permanent scar caused by Arya Stark's direwolf, Nymeria.

After Margaery Tyrell's persuasion of Joffrey proved fruitless, Olenna Tyrell arrived. Her face was expressionless, and her demeanor made the guards feel oppressed. She was like a sharp scalpel, ruthlessly cutting open the scars in Joffrey's heart, making them bleed again.

The arrogance and resistance in Joffrey's eyes faded!

The encounter at the Ruby Ford in the Trident Riverlands was unforgettable for him.

The Queen of Thorns approached the king: “And dragons, Your Grace. There was once a wild dragon in the Riverlands called the Sheepstealer because it always stole 'shepherds grazing sheep on the hillside' to eat. When the news spread, knights flocked to try and tame the Sheepstealer. In the end, they all succeeded in becoming delicious food in the Sheepstealer's belly.”

Joffrey's right corner of his mouth turned up, extremely disdainful, but the fear in his eyes betrayed him: “I know that story, madam. When everyone else was afraid to tame the Sheepstealer, a common girl named Nettle went to feed the Sheepstealer sheep every day. She fed the Sheepstealer for a year before it finally allowed her to touch its head. In the end, Nettle obtained the Sheepstealer and became one of the dragonriders, joining the Targaryen royal family.”

“Yes, you remember correctly. The Sheepstealer eventually accepted Nettle as its master. So, when Nettle became the Sheepstealer's master, do you think the Sheepstealer would let a second person—a stranger—ride on its back?”

Joffrey snorted heavily.

“Your Grace, a dragon will only recognize one master, and so will a Red Smoke Beast. The more proud a magical creature is, the more it will only recognize one master, and it will never change. Your Grace, if you try to forcibly change the Red Smoke Beast's inherent nature, I'm afraid you will pay a more serious price than provoking a direwolf,” the Queen of Thorns said, her tone already containing reproach.

Joffrey looked embarrassed. He looked at the Hound and the other Kingsguard, but the Kingsguard remained silent. He then looked at Margaery Tyrell, who was looking at him with deep affection, her eyes pleading, hoping he wouldn't provoke the Red Smoke Beast. The meaning was obvious.

His mother, Cersei, also had a stern face, not saying a word, unwilling to come forward to say a few words for him.

Below in the training grounds, the Mountain rode the Red Smoke Beast, without wearing armor or a helmet, and with a greatsword of ice and steel on his back.

The Red Smoke Beast was fiery red all over, and the inside of the Mountain's trousers was as red as blood, stained by the Red Smoke Beast's sweat.

The Mountain looked calmly at the 'royalty' on the high platform. The Red Smoke Beast under him was equally calm, like a silent flame burning. Its eyes were bright and blood-red like gems.

“Qyburn, where's Qyburn?” Joffrey shouted, very abruptly.

“Your Grace, Maester Qyburn is in his underground laboratory,” a servant replied.

“Where's Borko Boggs, where is he?”

Borko Boggs was the king's new court jester, arranged by the Hand of the King, proficient in singing, dancing, dog fighting, insect fighting, telling jokes, and performing farces. Since taking office, it didn't take long for him to win the king's 'favor'. Borko Boggs also recommended a jester skilled in magic to the king, a Moon Boy.

“Coming, coming, Your Grace,” Borko Boggs ran over, bowing. This was a very tall man, bald, but because he habitually bent over, he looked shorter than the king.

“Take me to Sansa,” King Joffrey would go to Sansa whenever he was unhappy.

The bruises that often appeared on Sansa's face, arms, and body were his badges of honor.

“Joffrey!” Cersei said, “Sansa is your aunt.”

Cersei reminded Joffrey that Sansa was no longer his fiancée and pet, she was his dwarf uncle's soon-to-be wife. Besides, Joffrey was being too rude, his fiancée Margaery Tyrell was here, and Lady Olenna Tyrell was also here.

Joffrey gained some mysterious pleasure from Margaery's hurt expression, and some magical satisfaction from Lady Olenna's frustrated expression: “Mother, Sansa is my aunt, I'm going to check on my aunt's wedding dress fitting and suggest the color of her dress and the choice of accessories. This is a nephew's etiquette. —Borko Boggs.”

“Your Grace!”

“Take the gift I gave Sansa, we'll go visit my aunt.”

“As you command, Your Grace.”

The arrogance in Joffrey's eyes recovered, as if a pool of water was filled again. There was too much water, and the water continued to flow in, so the water overflowed from the pool: “Miss Margaery Tyrell, Lady Olenna, why don't we go together and offer our blessings and gifts to my soon-to-be-married aunt.” His words contained provocation, a response and counterattack to Lady Olenna's 'direwolves and Sheepstealers' earlier.

The king strode away with the court steward, the jester, Moon Boy, and the Kingsguard, leaving a large group of women on the high platform in the training grounds, as well as the Mountain and his Red Smoke Beast, who were as burly as mountains below the platform.

“Madam, you shouldn't have mentioned direwolves,” Cersei said to the Queen of Thorns. These words were soft, but sharp and barbed, and merciless. The phrase 'shouldn't have mentioned' completely negated Olenna's efforts to persuade him, and also attacked the Queen of Thorns' honor, wisdom, and pride.

With just one sentence, Cersei successfully planted a seed of 'hostility' between her and the Queen of Thorns.

Lady Olenna glanced at Cersei, still polite: “You are right, Your Grace!”

*

The throne room, a meeting of the Small Council.

The Hand of the King sat high on the throne, flanked by—Master of Laws Mace Tyrell, Master of Whisperers Kevan Lannister, Master of Coin Petyr Baelish Littlefinger, Maester Qyburn without a maester's chain (Tywin did not remove Maester Qyburn, whom Cersei insisted on using, he made a small compromise.), Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Loras Tyrell, Commander of the City Watch Addam Marbrand, absent: Master of Ships Gregor Clegane.

Tywin looked at Kevan.

Kevan coughed lightly: “Your Grace, lords, Ser Gregor Clegane took the Red Smoke Beast to the Red Keep training grounds, this was the king's order. The king later left the training grounds under the persuasion of the Queen Mother, Miss Margaery, and Lady Olenna, and did not risk riding the Red Smoke Beast. I feel very fortunate.”

Littlefinger looked sly, with a smile on his lips: “Lord Kevan, since the king has left the training grounds, the Mountain naturally doesn't need to accompany him. He should have come to the throne room for a meeting, but where is he now…”

“Yes, but the Mountain reported to the Queen Mother that he led the Clegane knights, generals, and centurions to the Great Sept of Baelor.”

“Oh? What did he do there?” Mace asked in a puzzled tone.

“On Crackclaw Point, the Mountain's bannerman Black Stone died, and the captain of the guard, Ser Garibald, also died. The Mountain took his generals to the sept to ask the monks and Silent Sisters to give the two subordinates a proper burial.”

“Just a funeral for two subordinates? The Mountain didn't come to the meeting and even went to the Great Sept of Baelor to hold it?” Mace said in disbelief, his expression exaggerated.

Duke Tywin had a delicate Hand of the King made of gold pinned on his lapel. His little finger and ring finger were bent, his middle finger and index finger were straightened, and his thumb was open, resembling a gunslinger gesture of the Mountain in the Earth's civilization world.

Duke Tywin ignored this unpleasant opening: “Since the Mountain has something to do, we don't need to wait for him, let's start the meeting!”

*

The Great Sept of Baelor.

The funeral ended.

Black Stone's wife, Alys, had a calm face. The Mountain and Jeyne looked at her, and her eyes were also very calm. This woman from the Clegane territory hid her sadness very well.

“Lord, madam, there are still my two children in Clegane's Holdfast, a boy who is twelve years old and a girl who is five years old,” Alys said.

Alys was very practical and didn't waste a single word.

The Mountain nodded: “Alys, I will immediately send someone to the Westerlands to bring the two children to King's Landing. The boy will be my squire, and when he comes of age, I will grant him knighthood and the Clegane surname. The girl will follow Jeyne as a handmaiden. She is my and Jeyne's daughter. In the future, when she grows up, we will find a suitable knight for her.” Taking in more squires and foster daughters was something the Mountain deliberately did. He hoped that the Clegane surname would eventually become a great one.

Alys said nothing more and immediately knelt down and kowtowed forcefully.

Jeyne quickly helped her up.

Ser Garibald's family was next to her. After Alys stepped aside, Ser Garibald's wife came up. She and Ser Garibald had no children. Although the lady was no longer young, she was still graceful.

“Madam, we are very sorry!” the Mountain said.

“Death in battle is a knight's honor, Your Grace.”

“What do you hope we can do for you, madam?” Jeyne stretched out her hands and gently held Lady Garibald's hand.

“I want to stay in King's Landing, I don't want to go back to that small territory in the Stormlands. It's by the river, and behind the keep is a mountain. There's no one in front or behind, and it's very deserted, madam.”

“You will have your own house and handmaidens in King's Landing, madam,” the Mountain guaranteed. Once these noblewomen had fun playing with the noblewomen and ladies in King's Landing and the Red Keep, they would no longer want to return to the 'countryside' castles. “Madam, what about your taxes?”

“Please don't worry about my expenses, Your Grace.”

“Good, I will buy you a house and two handmaidens in King's Landing in the next few days.”

“One house is enough, Your Grace. I have family handmaidens and family guards.”

Before following the Mountain, Ser Garibald was a courtier of the royal family and had his own small residence in the Red Keep. After the Mountain led his army into King's Landing, Ser Garibald, who had a title and connections, obtained a small residence in the Red Keep again. Now that Ser Garibald had died in battle, his small residence had to be vacated.

After Lady Garibald left, the Mountain and Jeyne slowly walked out of the Great Sept of Baelor. The generals had all left one by one. The task of naval construction was heavy, and they had to speed up training, shipbuilding, gathering sailors, and warship training.

The Mountain was accompanied by his captain of the guard, Alyn, his foster son, Landon Garner, his little squire, Comm Warner, and several Clegane guards.

*

Night. Iron Gate. Shea's Courtyard.

Second floor.

The Imp, Tyrion Lannister, Bronn, and Podrick, holding wine glasses, looked in surprise at the Mountain, who walked up like a mountain. The wooden planks of the stairs were creaking and creaking, as if at the next heartbeat, the wooden planks would crack and break...

The moment the Mountain stepped on the wooden floor, the three felt the wooden planks under their feet tremble very obviously.

The wooden planks were not thick, and usually Bronn would feel a tremor when he walked on them.

The Mountain was too tall and had to lower his head to get through. He lowered his head and came over.

The Imp and others stared blankly at the Mountain, very worried that the wooden planks would soon break and collapse.

The Mountain held a gift box tied with red silk in his hand.

He put the gift box on the table: “Bronn, Podrick, go downstairs, I'm afraid the building will collapse.”

Bronn immediately stood up, while Podrick looked at the Imp. The Imp slumped in his chair and raised his wine glass to signal, and Podrick followed Bronn downstairs.

Upstairs, there were only the Imp and the Great Demon.

“I heard that you held a grand funeral for your two subordinates today,” the Imp said sarcastically, “You are very good at buying people's hearts!”

“I'm different from you, Imp, I don't need to buy my people's hearts,” the Mountain pushed the gift box in front of the Imp.

“What is it?”

“A wedding gift!”

“Are you here to laugh at me?”

“Yes!”

“Did you bring your own wine?”

“No.”

“I don't have much wine left either. My father doesn't give me money, so I have no food to eat.”

“There's no need for someone like you to eat anymore.”

“…………”

“Looking at the scars on your face, I remembered a piece of nonsense you said to me.”

“Hmm?”

“Justice! Mountain, I believe that no matter how chaotic the world is, there must be a little bit of justice.” The Mountain imitated the Imp's words, then returned to his normal accent, “Imp, you acted on this, eliminating many of Cersei's claws, and of course, you also received a medal.”

The Imp touched the scar on his face: “This medal is actually a bit too big.”

“Open my gift and take a look.”

“I have no interest.”

“You will.”

“Oh!”

“Try it!”

The Imp put down his wine glass, pulled open the buckle silk, and opened the gift box. Inside was a handcrafted book bound into volumes, with the words: Season of Love.

This was the name of a song, the first song that the Imp's wife, Tysha, whose face he couldn't remember, taught him. The song title and lyrics were seriously inconsistent...

Below the large characters were several rows of small characters, which Tyrion often hummed: I want to live to eighty/Drink my fill of Arbor Gold/A virgin accompanying me/Only then will I die in a warm bed...

“Whose handwriting is this? Very beautiful, almost as good as mine.”

The Mountain made a gesture of opening a book.

So, the Imp opened the book.

The first page was a painting: the forests of the Westerlands, the Imp was very familiar with them, he recognized them at a glance. – A forest path, a handsome young man, and a dwarf.

The picture was lifelike, depicting Jaime and the Imp.

The Imp's lifeless expression disappeared, his breathing became rapid, and his face was as cold and hard as iron. He quickly flipped through the pages, quickly finishing the book, finally his eyes lingered on the last picture.

A girl in ordinary clothes, with dry yellow hair, pure big eyes, slightly thick lips, holding a ring made of wildflowers in her hand.

The Imp's eyes gradually became moist.

This was the face of his wife, Tysha, which he had almost completely forgotten. The ring woven from wildflowers was made by Tyrion himself for Tysha. At that time, he and Tysha were very happy. Tysha didn't know he was a Lannister, and he didn't know Tysha was a prostitute.

"Who painted this?" The Imp shifted his gaze, and after a long while, asked with a hoarse voice.

"Is what's in the painting true?" The Mountain answered irrelevantly.

The painting was cruel, bringing the Imp back to the time when he, his brother, and his father stood watching a camp of soldiers take turns raping Tysha.

"How the hell did you get something like this?"

"Tysha was not a prostitute," The Mountain said coldly.

Tyrion chuckled, pouring himself wine, the wine overflowing the glass: "Jaime assured me that Tysha was a prostitute he found, he even found a virgin specifically to trick me."

"That's what your father told him to say."

Wine flowed from Tyrion's fingers, drop by drop, onto the table.

"You're lying, there's no way you could know the real situation back then."

"Don't spill the wine, this was bought with your father's money," The Mountain said blandly.

The Imp raised his hand, splashing the wine all over the Mountain's face.

"Get out!" The Imp shouted across the table.

It seemed he had misunderstood something, maybe the Imp thought he was the giant, and the Mountain was the dwarf.

The Mountain didn't get out, if he did, this small wooden house would collapse, which was clearly not a good choice.

"With your intelligence, you can ask your father, and you can naturally determine whether Tysha was a prostitute, and you can also hear whether Jaime carried out our father's decision." Our father, the Mountain said with irony.

"Jaime would never deceive me."

"Indeed he wouldn't, but our father didn't tell Jaime beforehand about the arrangement to have the entire camp of soldiers take turns raping your wife."

Tyrion was completely stunned, staring at the Mountain, suddenly he pounced forward, smashing the Mountain's face with the wine glass in his hand.

Then, he realized he was suspended in the air, he had been grabbed by the Mountain's hand, just like a small rag doll hanging on an iron hook. And the wine glass was in the Mountain's other hand.

"I hate wizards, blood mages, I hate prophecies, they're all deceptive tricks," the Imp cursed through gritted teeth.

"I also hate wizards," the Mountain said.

The Mountain's big eyes stared at the Imp's strange black and green eyes.

"What exactly do you want to do by bringing this here? Make me kill my father?"

"Are you truly marrying Sansa? Marrying her for love? Or marrying her because of our father's conspiracy? Joffrey was cruel and vicious to Sansa, you hate Joffrey, you stopped Joffrey, but in fact you are more disgusting than Joffrey. At least, Joffrey ensured Sansa's purity before the marriage, and you, will soon be able to rightfully lie on top of Sansa, although she is only thirteen years old, although she is being forced, but she is your wife. Is this your 'no matter how chaotic the world is, there still needs to be a little bit of justice'?"

"You are the most damned demon in the Seven Kingdoms. What right do you have to talk about me."

"I want you to refuse the marriage," The Mountain said blandly. He often didn't answer the Imp's questions at all, directly pushing for the result he wanted.

"Go to hell!"

"When you were cut down to the ground by Mandon Moore, Anguy shot Mandon with an arrow, Anguy was sent by me; when you had to accept Maester Ballabar's treatment of your badge in the basement arranged by Cersei, I found Qyburn for you. You owe me, now it's time to repay it. Are you trying to deny the debt?"

"…………"

"Can't figure out why I'm doing this? I want to see the expression of suffering on Tywin Lannister's face because of frustration. Moreover, you just refusing the marriage is not enough to repay what you owe me, so, I also want you to do another thing. If you refuse, I will tell our father about Shae, and also tell Empress Dowager Cersei."

"You are the real demon."

"I know my strengths, but thank you for the compliment!"