"Rickon Stark?" Dany was momentarily dazed.
She was puzzled not only by the somewhat unfamiliar name but also by what Lord Eel meant by bringing it up.
Compared with Bran, Arya, Sansa, and Robb, the fifth Stark child, Rickon, had always been as insignificant as his age—barely noticeable.
In Game of Thrones, apart from the scene where he was shot dead by the Bastard of Bolton—his poor running making everyone sigh—he left almost no impression on the audience.
In this world, he fared even worse. He had barely appeared at all.
"Rickon Stark, the third son of Lord Eddard Stark," Lord Eel explained. "He was only six years old a few years ago. You might not know him well, but he's the last surviving male heir of House Stark."
"What do you want me to do?" Dany gave him a sharp look. "I don't kill children."
"Kill?" Lord Eel blinked, dumbfounded. "I—I didn't tell you to kill him!"
"Weren't you reporting the existence of a Stark heir to me out of hatred for Eddard and our past feud, to remind me to eliminate his bloodline completely?" Dany asked with a strange expression.
"Uh…" Lord Eel's round face twisted awkwardly.
"Your Majesty, you are magnanimous, benevolent, and just. How could I think you'd do such a thing? You didn't kill Stannis, nor Jon Snow. You didn't burn King's Landing, and you even spared Lady Catelyn. I know you wouldn't harm an innocent child," the fat count said righteously.
"Oh, I see. You've been in contact with Lady Stoneheart," Dany said, suddenly realizing.
So that was it—Lady Stoneheart must have known that the Dragon Queen bore no ill will toward Rickon. That's why Lord Eel had revealed his whereabouts as soon as they met.
At the same time, Dany also understood—this fat man hadn't betrayed the Starks. He was acting as a spy among the Boltons.
"I was surprised too," Lord Eel continued. "I didn't expect the Lady to be resurrected by the Lord of Light. She told me you were a righteous and noble queen who despises evil.
So when I saw your dragons, Your Majesty, I chased after you as fast as I could. I wanted to ask you to deliver justice for Lord Stark."
He looked at Dany with hopeful eyes.
"You're sure Lady Stoneheart said good things about me? The last time I saw her, she was nearly possessed—violating guest rights, breaking oaths, and trying to have me shot." Dany frowned in doubt.
Lord Eel froze, stunned by the Dragon Queen's harsh assessment of the woman he remembered as a "kind and pitiful" lady.
"I swear to the Seven, to R'hllor, and to the Old Gods alike, I haven't spoken a single lie," he swore, raising his hand solemnly.
"Could it be you met a fake Lady Stoneheart?" Dany asked suspiciously.
"How could I mistake my own lady?" Lord Eel stiffened his neck, his chubby face turning red.
"Does she have scars on her face?" Dany asked.
"Yes, terrible scars," Lord Eel said, and his eyes reddened as he shouted in anger and grief, "Gods! What did those Frey animals do to her?!"
The way he said it almost made it sound like the Freys had done something far worse than just kill her.
Suppressing a sigh, Dany asked again, "What else did Lady Stoneheart say about me?"
Lord Eel thought for a moment and replied, "Your black dragon drew a picture for Jon Snow—a prophecy of the Red Wedding."
So it really was Lady Stoneheart. Though she seemed… changed. Or perhaps she was pretending.
With the thought settled in her mind, Dany asked with interest, "Did Jon Snow and the Ginkgo Maiden return to White Harbor?"
"No." Lord Eel's once-kind face twisted with fury again. "During the War of the Four Kings, while the Seven Kingdoms were in chaos, the Sunderland family of the Sisters restored the old ways. The Ginkgo Maiden was almost home—then fell victim to those wretches."
The Sisters lay at the mouth of the bay where White Harbor was located—its gateway—under the rule of House Sunderland.
"The old ways, like the Ironborn?" Dany asked. "Did they rob the Ginkgo Maiden?"
"No, they were worse. The Sisters sit along the trade route to White Harbor. Many merchant ships pass by.
Along their coasts stand countless lighthouses to guide ships around shoals and reefs.
But when fog or storms come, the islanders extinguish the true beacons and light false ones instead, luring ships to wreck upon the rocks. Then those bastards salvage the cargo from the sunken hulls."
Dany's eyes widened in disbelief. She couldn't imagine anyone stooping to such vile deceit.
The Ginkgo Maiden had crossed the Narrow Sea, the Summer Sea, the Qarth Strait, and the Jade Sea—surviving ruthless pirates and unpredictable storms, escaping death countless times—only to be ruined by her neighbors.How unjust!
"No one ever punished Lord Sunderland for that?" she demanded.
If Dany had been sitting the Iron Throne, she would have stripped that family of its lands for such treachery.
"When Stannis served as Master of Ships, he dealt harshly with that old dog Sunderland once. But look at the realm now—who has the power to control him?" Lord Eel sighed helplessly.
"Gulp, gulp…"
The sound came from Lord Eel's convoy, where a stove burned hot. Servants occasionally tossed in more coals, and in the swirling snow, clouds of fragrant steam rose into the air.
Fat eunuch Belwas sniffed deeply, his stomach growling loudly in front of everyone.
The eunuch blushed and muttered, "My lord, you invited Belwas and the Queen down here. As the host, shouldn't you share what's cooking in that stove with your guests?"
Dany glared at him in embarrassment. "You ate an entire roast lamb leg at noon, and it's only three in the afternoon. You're hungry again?" she hissed.
"Belwas wasn't hungry, but the smell of those pies made him hungry," Belwas said pitifully.
"Hahaha!" Lord Eel burst into laughter at that, waving to his men as they quickly set up a roadside tent with chairs. "Ser Belwas, I understand you completely," he said cheerfully.
"Forget smelling roast meat—if someone so much as says the word 'pig's trotter,' or if I just think of it, my stomach starts growling too."
His servants worked fast. Within ten minutes, they'd erected a small tent about eight square meters wide.
Inside stood a table with a brazier underneath and platters on top: steaming lamprey pie, roasted goat ribs, sticky-sweet pig's trotters, fist-sized steamed crabs, cleaned oysters, pan-fried cod with scallions and pepper, red wine, dessert wine, and brandy.
And no, they hadn't cooked it there—everything had been brought out fully prepared.
In Lord Eel's entourage, Dany saw the same extravagant lifestyle among Westeros's highborn nobles that rivaled even the opulence of Ghiscari slave masters.
The convoy numbered about sixty carriages and three hundred riders, along with two hundred servants acting as drivers and attendants.
But this was no military procession—it was Lord Eel's personal traveling caravan.
Of the sixty carriages, forty were packed with food and drink: barrels of wine, frozen sea fish, crates of crabs and oysters, herds of live goats, more than a hundred pigs, refined flour, costly Yi Ti black rice, winter wheat, onions, and carrots.Another ten carriages carried massive iron stoves, ovens, frying pans, and steamers. Steam billowed from them, filling the air with mouthwatering aromas.
The remaining ten were piled high with furs, tents, tables, chairs, and charcoal.
Lord Eel was a glutton who ate constantly on the road.
He would have liked to keep a bowl of braised pork by his bedside when he slept.
The entire convoy existed solely to serve him.
Yet despite such gluttony, Lord Eel's reputation in Westeros was far from the worst—and not even considered particularly indulgent.No wonder Tyrion had no interest whatsoever in the idea of freeing slaves.
In truth, Westeros without slavery was no more virtuous than the former Slaver's Bay.
But under her rule, the new Slaver's Bay would be different.
Dany drew back her wandering thoughts and asked, "Since Lady Stoneheart has already contacted you, didn't she make any plan for revenge with you?"
"The lady's plan is to wait until King's Landing descends into chaos, when the Iron Throne no longer has the strength to concern itself with the North.
Of course, we know your vow does not require you to attack King's Landing.
In fact, the Iron Throne's power cannot reach the North. Once we bring Duke Rickon back to White Harbor, I can muster five thousand elite men in his name.With the support of House Mormont of Bear Island, House Umber of Last Hearth, House Tallhart of Torrhen's Square, and several other northern lords—plus the crannogmen of the Neck—it would not be impossible to overthrow the traitor Bolton.
Once Bolton is defeated, the North will regain its stability, and with the nobles united under House Stark's leadership, even if the Lannisters rally the other six kingdoms, they will not be able to cross Moat Cailin."
Lord Eel was a shrewd man. Knowing concealment would only provoke the Dragon Queen's displeasure, he spoke without hesitation, revealing everything about his dealings with Lady Stoneheart.
Dany nodded inwardly. Without the coming Long Night, the North might indeed have stood a chance.
"In that case, what justice do you still want me to deliver?" she asked.
"Your Majesty, our demand is not merely the restoration of House Stark's rule," Lord Eel said meaningfully.
"What is it you want, then?"
"Revenge!" Lord Eel declared, his chin trembling but his voice firm.
Dany raised an eyebrow. "And what does your revenge have to do with me?"
"Your Majesty, we share a common enemy. No matter how bold we are, we could never hope to defeat Roose Bolton, Walder Frey, the Lannisters, and the Tyrells one after another on our own."
"Isn't that contradictory?" Dany frowned. "You know I won't involve myself in the Seven Kingdoms' civil wars before the Long Night ends, yet you still want an alliance with me."
Lord Eel shook his head. "It's not contradictory. Revenge need not be rushed. The War of the Four Kings left deep wounds. The North also needs time to recover.
If you agree, then when summer comes, we'll attack from both sides—you advance from the Crownlands by sea, while we march south through the Neck.
Once the Lannisters fall, the Iron Throne will be yours. All we ask is independence—the North shall stand alone!You'll claim the throne with hardly any cost, while we fulfill our vengeance. A perfect victory for both."
Ser Galaz exclaimed in anger, "You mean to break apart the Seven Kingdoms?"
Lord Eel's expression grew complicated. "Ser, think about it. What has the united Seven Kingdoms ever brought the North?Only pain and humiliation!The southern lords' game of thrones is too dangerous. We neither wish to take part nor have the means to do so.
And the North brings little in taxes to the Iron Throne. Better we part on good terms, each ruling our own lands."
"You are remarkably frank, my lord," Dany said.
Indeed, Lord Eel was utterly candid—no pretense, no tricks.
He might have been somewhat fanciful, even naïvely optimistic, but he laid everything bare—a straightforward trade of interests.
Dany held little respect for the Northerners' shortsightedness, yet she didn't find their approach offensive.
"In principle, I agree to your alliance."
As Lord Eel had said earlier, Dany would lose nothing but gain the title of ally. Why refuse?Northern independence?
She gave a soft laugh. She hardly cared for the Iron Throne itself—why would she bother about that barren, stubborn land of misers and cold soil?
"But there are two matters that must be settled first."
Lord Eel quickly asked, "What matters? The Long Night and the White Walkers?"
(End of Chapter)
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