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Chapter 249: Various Meetings
🕑 Added 2025-04-05 14:45:12 +0000 UTCAfter a round of polite conversation, Lynd introduced his son to Garth, who, in turn, took out one of his personal daggers and gifted it to Augustus. This exchange helped bridge the initial unfamiliarity between them, making their relationship more amicable.
Garth then led Lynd to his designated residence, a place he was already familiar with—Goldenrose Courtyard.
Whether by coincidence or design, the Dornish envoys attending the wedding had been accommodated in the manor adjacent to Goldenrose Courtyard. What made the situation even more intriguing was that the envoy representing Dorne this time was none other than Princess Arianne.
“Lord Lynd, I heard that when he left Highgarden, he came to see you.”
Arianne wasted no time in seeking him out as soon as he had settled in Goldenrose Courtyard. The first thing she asked about was Willas.
Looking at Princess Arianne after years apart, Lynd couldn't help but be struck by her beauty. With age, she had gained a mature allure, her features and figure even more captivating than before. It was as if she possessed a kind of bewitching charm. Even though Lynd had no personal feelings for her, he still found himself instinctively reacting at first glance.
“Yes,” Lynd nodded and answered honestly, “he asked me to look after you if you ran into trouble.”
“Look after me, huh! He’s still the same self-righteous coward. He didn't even have the courage to face me. The moment he found out I was coming, he ran. A coward! A pathetic, disgusting coward!”
Arianne’s face was filled with anger as she cursed, but her words carried an undertone of lingering affection for Willas—despite the fact that she now had multiple lovers.
“Did you come to me just to curse Willas in front of me?” Lynd sighed, looking at her with a hint of amusement. “If that's the case, I suggest you start chasing him north right away, along the Roseroad and the Kingsroad. He’s in a wheelchair; he won’t be moving fast. You should be able to catch him before he reaches the North. Once you do, just drag him back to Dorne and deal with him however you see fit. After all, he's wearing the black now—he's no longer the heir to Highgarden. The only consequence you'll face is answering to the Night’s Watch, but I doubt that will pose much of a problem for you.”
Arianne froze for a moment, her expression turning contemplative, as if seriously considering the idea.
Lynd found this both amusing and exasperating, but he couldn’t very well tell her outright that he was joking. He could only wait for her to figure it out on her own.
A short silence passed before Arianne let out a sigh. “It’s pointless. He’s not going to change his mind. Just like back then—‘thinking of me,’ ‘his duty’—all just excuses!”
As she spoke, she seemed to realize how much she sounded like a resentful lover and quickly cut herself off. Adjusting her expression, she looked back at Lynd and said, “Let’s not talk about that coward anymore. I came to see you because I hope, Lord Lynd, that you will support me…”
“I won’t support you.” Lynd cut her off without hesitation.
Arianne frowned, her tone turning slightly sharp. “Is it because I’m a woman?”
“Of course not.” Lynd shook his head. “If you truly understood me, you’d know I have no issue with women in power. In fact, when it comes to the affairs of Summerhall, my wife, Nymeria, is the one who makes the real decisions. I usually defer to her judgment.”
“In that case, why won’t you support me?” Arianne asked, clearly unconvinced.
“Because your abilities and temperament show that you’re not suited to be a ruler or a princess.” Lynd spoke bluntly. “Do you realize that despite being Prince Doran’s daughter, you resemble your uncle, Prince Oberyn, far more? It’s not just your personality—you handle things the same way. You’re basically a female Red Viper. Prince Oberyn, for all his talents, was never capable of governing Dorne. So how could an imitator like you possibly do better? Do you know the biggest difference between you and Prince Oberyn?”
Arianne’s expression darkened, but she still asked, “And what difference is that?”
“The difference is that you lack self-awareness,” Lynd stated without hesitation. “Prince Oberyn knew exactly what he was capable of and what he wasn’t. That’s why he was able to work seamlessly with Prince Doran, helping to keep Dorne’s lords in check. But you? You don’t have that kind of self-awareness. Not only that, but you overestimate yourself and—”
“Enough!” Arianne snapped, cutting him off. She glared at him furiously before turning on her heel and storming out of Goldenrose Courtyard. It was clear that Lynd’s words had struck a nerve.
Jon, who had remained silent throughout, finally spoke up after Arianne had left. Lowering his voice, he hesitated before saying, “Lord Lynd, don’t you think that was a bit too harsh? After all, Princess Arianne…”
Lynd interrupted him with a grin. “I’ll make sure to describe to Lady Victaria exactly how you were looking at Princess Arianne just now. Oh, and wipe the drool off your mouth.”
Jon’s face turned red with embarrassment as he hurriedly turned away to wipe his mouth.
With Princess Arianne’s arrival, it was as if a switch had been flipped—one for receiving guests. Soon, lords and nobles attending Garlan’s wedding began arriving at Goldenrose Courtyard to meet with Lynd. Some sought to discuss trade matters, while others came simply to strengthen their relationship with him. This wave of visits continued until nightfall, when the influx of guests finally subsided.
After all, it wasn’t often that one could meet the legendary Lynd so easily. Most of the time, he was either in Summerhall, stationed at Miracle Harbor or Red Watch, or off handling affairs in Black Cave or Redemption Sept. For most people and most matters, getting an audience with him was no simple task.
That evening, after dinner, Lynd took the two little ones out to the courtyard, accompanying the Chosen One in training the wyverns.
At that moment, a scout arrived at Goldenrose Courtyard, carrying fresh news from Highgarden. Bowing slightly, he reported, “My lord, the contingents from King’s Landing and the Westerlands have entered the city and have been accommodated within the inner city.”
Lynd nodded. “Who came on behalf of His Grace? Lord Stannis?”
“No,” the scout shook his head. “His Grace came in person.”
Lynd was momentarily stunned. He knew well that King Robert had no love for Lord Mace Tyrell, and by extension, no fondness for House Tyrell either. While Garlan Tyrell’s wedding was indeed significant—as he was the heir to the Warden of the South—it wasn’t important enough to demand the king’s personal presence. For someone of Robert’s status, simply sending Stannis would have been more than enough to show House Tyrell the necessary respect.
Yet Robert had come in person to Highgarden—a place he openly disliked. That could only mean there was more to his visit than just Garlan’s wedding.
A thought struck him, and he immediately asked, “What about the Westerlands? Who came from there? Kevan Lannister?”
“No, it’s Lord Tywin himself,” the scout answered.
“This isn’t right. Something’s definitely off,” Lynd murmured.
Under normal circumstances, the way Dorne had handled the invitation was appropriate—sending a high-ranking noble of direct lineage to represent them. This approach conveyed respect for House Tyrell without placing too much weight on the event. The Riverlands, the Vale, and even the North had taken a similar approach. The only exception was Renly, whose close ties with House Tyrell made his attendance more personal than political.
But now, the King and the Lord of Casterly Rock had both personally come to attend Garlan Tyrell’s wedding? That was excessive. It was out of character for both of them.
“Could it be that they’re here to arrange a marriage alliance with House Tyrell?”
The voice came from Lady Victaria, who had been quietly listening to the scout’s report.
“A marriage alliance?” Lynd turned to her, intrigued, gesturing for her to continue.
Lady Victaria explained, “Some time ago, while attending a gathering of noble ladies in Miracle Harbor, I overheard a rumor from King’s Landing. It was said that Queen Cersei had proposed an alliance between King’s Landing and Highgarden—suggesting a betrothal between Prince Joffrey and Lady Margaery, with the intention of them marrying once they came of age.”
Lynd and Jon exchanged glances, both sensing the plausibility of the rumor. In fact, it seemed likely that the rumor had been deliberately spread from King’s Landing to gauge Highgarden’s response. Now, with both King Robert and Lord Tywin personally present, it suggested that House Tyrell had already given tacit approval, and they were merely waiting for the right time to formalize the arrangement.
Having understood the situation, Lynd dismissed the matter from his mind. Though it deviated from what he remembered from his past life, it wasn’t a significant issue. Many things had already changed—one more deviation hardly mattered.
The marriage alliance between King’s Landing and Highgarden had no bearing on him. His only concern was managing his own territory. As far as he was concerned, avoiding unnecessary trouble was already an accomplishment; he had no interest in worrying about the consequences of this political match.
...
After a night’s rest, Lynd set out early in the morning, taking Augustus with him to Highgarden to pay his respects to Lord Mace.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Lord Mace affectionately patted Augustus on the head, then turned to Margaery, who stood nearby. “What a lively little boy! Margaery, take him to the garden to play.”
Whether it was Margaery’s natural charm or the influence of Garth Greenhand’s lingering power within her, Augustus—who typically disliked strangers—obediently let her take his hand and lead him out of the room without so much as a backward glance at his father.
As he watched Margaery disappear into the distance, Lynd realized that Willas must have been preparing for his departure to the Wall for years. From the way Margaery carried herself, it was evident that Willas had been shaping her for a long time—now, she was the new incarnation of Garth Greenhand.
As for whether Willas’s connection to Garth Greenhand’s power would weaken once he left Highgarden, Lynd wasn’t sure. But he knew one thing: with Willas’s intelligence, he must have accounted for this. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left so decisively.
After Margaery departed, Lord Mace's expression shifted, his usual warmth giving way to a more serious demeanor. He motioned for the unnecessary attendants in the room to leave, keeping only Garlan and Garth behind. Then, with a complex expression, he turned to Lynd and said, “I never imagined that one day my heir would choose to wear the black. What use is a black cloak to him? What can he do, sitting in a wheelchair, fighting Wildlings and White Walkers?”
Garlan sighed. “Father, the Wall has Maesters. Brother Willas—”
“Silence!” Lord Mace snapped, shooting Garlan a fierce glare before turning back to Lynd. “Lynd Tarran, Willas has been corresponding with you for a long time. When he left, he saw no one else—only you, in Summerhall. You must know something. As your liege lord, as the Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South, I command you—tell me everything you know.”
Lynd studied Mace for a moment. Though the Lord had composed himself and masked his emotions, the signs of age and grief were still visible on his face. It was clear that Willas’s decision to take the black had deeply wounded him, enough that he was now resorting to forceful demands just to learn the truth.
After a moment of silence, Lynd finally spoke. “Willas is the incarnation of Garth Greenhand.”
The words seemed to freeze the very air in the room. Everyone fell silent. Even Lord Mace was momentarily at a loss for how to react.
“Lynd… you’re joking, right?” Garlan asked in disbelief.
“I’m not.” Lynd shook his head. “Willas has the potential to become a Greenseer. Years ago, when he traveled to Dorne, the Three-Eyed Crow took notice of him—he wanted Willas to be his successor.”
“Wait,” Lord Mace interrupted, frowning. “Who is the Three-Eyed Crow?”
“He’s an incredibly powerful Greenseer,” Lynd explained gravely. “At certain times, in certain places, his power is enough to rival that of the gods. He resides beyond the Wall, deep in the Land of Always Winter, using the power of the Old Gods to stand guard and prevent the White Walkers from invading the South.”
Lynd paused briefly before continuing, “I don’t know exactly what the Three-Eyed Crow is. Based on my research with Malora, he could be a Greenseer from the Age of the First Men who has survived by continuously awakening in different bodies. The current Three-Eyed Crow is Brynden Rivers—the same Bloodraven who shot down Daemon Blackfyre over a hundred years ago and ended the Blackfyre Rebellion.”
As Lynd’s words settled over the room, Lord Mace, Garlan, and Garth all remained silent, utterly stunned.
Although these revelations sounded as far-fetched as the ancient tales sung by tavern bards, there was a crucial difference—such tales, coming from a bard, could be dismissed as fantasy. But when they came from Lynd Tarran, a man the world recognized as a legendary hero, even the most outlandish stories suddenly seemed all too real.
