[Chapter Size: 1600 Words.]
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The decision was made at Riverrun. Theon led 5,000 men south toward King's Landing, while Yara commanded the remaining 1,500 to defend Riverrun.
To ensure the plan went smoothly, Theon's 5,000 men marched without archers. A thousand bowmen, along with a vast supply of arrows, were left behind at Riverrun.
Theon pushed his forces hard, reaching King's Landing in just four days. Along the way, he encountered numerous Northern scouts, proof that Robb Stark had left Tywin with many strategically placed defensive zones.
Compared to the events in the original tale, when Robb invaded the Westerlands, House Lannister's situation was still relatively secure. Their only real setback had been Yara's raids.
As King's Landing drew closer, Theon was struck by how quickly he had returned to the heart of the storm.
On the outskirts of the city, refugees swarmed like fleas, scattered everywhere. War always drove countless souls to seek shelter in King's Landing.
It wasn't just refugees. Many minor lords had also fled to the capital for safety, swelling an already overcrowded city.
The slums were no safer than the roads beyond the walls. Murders, robberies, rapes, and looting were common. In such chaos, some people banded together for protection.
Among these were the so-called Cult of the Sun and the Sparrow movement, both gathering strength under the guise of religion.
The Knights of the Flaming Sun, part of the Cult of the Sun, now fielded 200 mounted knights and 3,000 infantrymen armed with crude spears, many tipped with wooden shafts in place of broken steel points.
This force had grown formidable. Compared to the Sparrows, the Cult of the Sun was clearly wealthier.
Even so, the Sparrows, recognized by the Iron Throne, commanded over 10,000 followers, ordinary men and women who had joined their cause.
When Theon received Schiller's letter, he knew Tyrion would never acknowledge the Cult of the Sun alone. The Imp would find a counterweight to balance the scales.
The Cult of the Seven was far easier for the public to embrace than the strange Sun-worshippers. If the Cult of the Sun had no bread to offer, its followers would vanish.
But black bread was often more convincing than lofty words.
This gave the Cult of the Sun's armed forces a strength that outmatched the Sparrows, despite their smaller numbers.
To Theon, any sect was dangerous. He disliked them all. Real power came from kingship, and only faith could rival a crown.
Inside the Red Keep's hall, Tyrion sipped his wine to steady his nerves. The last time he had seen Theon Greyjoy, the boy had been a hostage of House Stark in the North.
Now, only months later, Theon had become the man the royal family needed as an ally through marriage. The transformation was staggering.
In a society where bloodlines defined worth, marrying a royal princess was the highest honor, especially with a great lion backing her claim.
"Lord Theon is on his way to the council chamber," Tyrion's squire announced.
Tyrion set down his cup and smirked. "Best not call him 'Lord Theon,' boy. Say 'Your Majesty,' or the Ironborn will cut out your tongue."
Red froze, wide-eyed. Tyrion chuckled, patting his squire's side. "I jest. He hasn't declared himself king yet. Theon is clever, too clever, cunning, and sly."
When Tyrion entered the council chamber, Theon was already seated in the high chair, flanked by Bronn, Varys, Baelish, Pycelle, Cersei, and Myrcella. Joffrey was absent.
Tyrion took the seat opposite Theon. "That chair is mine. Yours is over there."
"What's the problem?" Theon asked.
"Of course not," Tyrion replied smoothly, before adding with a smirk, "After all, you still command five thousand seasoned men, and countless zealots in your church. Surely you can crush Stannis."
"I have five thousand men, plus the Gold Cloaks. Stannis won't trouble me. But first, I want your promise fulfilled. Myrcella and the Crab Claw Peninsula are mine. I demand a formal decree from the Iron Throne."
Tyrion glanced at his niece, her cheeks flushed, then at Cersei, whose expression was dark and rigid. "Fine. Two days from now, there will be an official decree for all to witness."
Cersei fixed Theon with a sharp glare. "If Myrcella comes to harm, I swear…"
"A Lannister always pays their debts. I understand," Theon interrupted with a smirk.
His eyes lingered on Myrcella's blushing face, clearly pleased.
Compared to the cruel Joffrey and the weak Tommen, Myrcella was pure, gentle, and beautiful.
And in his eyes, the difference in age meant little.
In the original story, Tyrion had given different answers to Varys, Baelish, and Pycelle regarding Myrcella's marriage partner. In the end, he discovered that Pycelle was loyal to Cersei and had him imprisoned in the Black Cells.
But now, instead of playing that game, Tyrion had simply married Myrcella directly to Theon.
Compared to Dorne, the Iron Islands were also poor, but they were far better positioned to support King's Landing. Theon, moreover, showed both courage and ambition. Since he had not yet done anything disgraceful, he became, in Tyrion's mind, the most suitable match for Myrcella.
Cersei, however, despised Theon, not only for the threats he had made earlier, but also for his cunning and ruthlessness. She was certain that Myrcella would suffer under him.
Yet despite her hatred, she understood that Theon's strength was essential for the defense of King's Landing. In the past two days, she had been teaching Myrcella what she considered a woman's greatest weapon.
Men may control power, but women can control men.
Unfortunately, Myrcella's gentle nature meant Cersei's lessons bore little fruit. Still, Cersei knew far more than her daughter about the ways of men and women. Royal children were forced to grow up quickly.
In the original story, Theon's four favorite beauties were Daenerys, Mother of Dragons; Margaery, the Little Rose; Myrcella, as gentle as water; and Ygritte, Kissed by Fire.
Now, among them, Theon truly seemed to favor Myrcella, and, of course, the Crackclaw Point.
Theon beckoned Myrcella forward.
She glanced at her mother, then at Tyrion, before finally obeying and stepping toward him.
Theon drew her close by the waist and removed the golden lion pendant from her neck. "This necklace does not suit a princess as lovely as you."
From his sleeve, he produced a sapphire necklace. "I once thought the sea the most beautiful thing in the world. But the moment I first saw you, I knew I was wrong. Your eyes outshine the sea. Even this 'Tear of Poseidon' is hardly a match for you, my princess."
The others in the chamber watched uneasily as Theon fastened the necklace around Myrcella's neck. Their faces betrayed their discomfort, except Cersei, who managed to keep hers composed.
Tyrion broke the silence, clearly disturbed by Theon's honeyed words. He could hardly believe anyone could speak so cloyingly to a young girl. Yet the sapphire itself was undeniably beautiful, though none knew that Yara had stolen it during a raid on Lannisport.
Myrcella's cheeks flushed crimson. Theon lifted her easily into his arms. "From this day forward, Myrcella is my wife. You cannot take her from me."
Tyrion's face hardened, though he forced a thin smile. "The princess is still very young. Perhaps it would be best if she learned a little from Queen Cersei first. What do you say, Lord Theon?"
But Theon had no intention of letting others shape Myrcella. He wanted a royal bride who was pure and gentle, not one who whispered courtly schemes in his ear.
He said nothing, but his cold stare was answer enough. The tension in the council chamber thickened, and even Bronn remained silent.
At last Tyrion said, "Thank you, Lord Theon, for caring for Princess Myrcella. I trust this will not distract you from your… naval affairs." He deliberately emphasized the words.
"Of course not. You needn't worry, Lord Tyrion," Theon replied with a smile.
The council dissolved in uneasy silence.
Hand in hand, Theon led Myrcella back to his quarters. He stationed his army at the Mud Gate, bringing only a hundred guards with him to the Red Keep.
Holding Myrcella's delicate hand, Theon marveled that a man who had lived his whole life alone could suddenly gain a wife. Thanks to his strange fate, thanks to the system, he truly relished the training fate had given him.
Myrcella, sensing the council's uneasy atmosphere, followed quietly without protest.
"From now on, you are my wife, the noblest woman in the world," Theon promised, stroking her hair.
Myrcella smiled faintly and nodded. In her heart, she knew she was only a tool for securing alliances through marriage. She hoped only that Theon would not mistreat her; she dared not hope for more.
For all her composure, she was still just a girl. Theon, seeing her thoughts clearly, simply caressed her hair again and said nothing.
That night, Myrcella lay beside Theon.
As he idly traced shapes on her arm, she pouted. "Enough games, enough games!"
Theon chuckled. "Then let us rest. It's late." He lay down and patted the space beside him.
Her cheeks reddened. She was far too young, and Cersei had warned her clearly: such things could wait until her body was ready.
There were no whispered words, no acts of passion. Myrcella soon fell asleep peacefully in Theon's arms. Were it not for his unusual strength, his arm might have gone numb beneath her.
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