At this moment, Jaime also recovered from his shock and looked at Dany with an unreadable expression. "Your Grace, your mercy and magnanimity make me envious once again. I envy your White Knights.
However, they are right. I am deeply grateful for your tolerance and understanding, but there is no need for you to publicly announce this matter. It does no good for your father's reputation and may even have an adverse effect on the future selection of knights."
"You are the daughter of His Majesty Aerys. I only wish to give an explanation to a deceased father's daughter, not to a king's princess. I do not care about anyone's opinion, not even that of the Seven Gods."
Jaime's expression was serious, his gaze sincere.
"You have your convictions, and I have my faith. Given the current moral decay and collapse of order in Westeros, I once planned to convene a Great Council to conduct a grand trial of everything that has happened in the Seven Kingdoms over the past thirty years, one that would be absolutely open and just.
A grand trial is a thorough act of reflection.
I cannot demand absolute fairness in such a trial while concealing truths unfavorable to House Targaryen. If I did, the trial would lose all meaning."
Though Dany's words were directed at Jaime, her gaze swept across the faces of the White Knights one by one as she spoke.
Old Barristan's eyes shifted from confusion to relief, and finally to admiration. He sighed and said, "I understand now. Your Grace, you are right."
The other White Knights did not voice clear approval, but neither did they object any longer.
Yet every one of them looked at Dany differently now.
Their eyes were filled with sincere respect.
To help Westeros restore its honorable faith, for the sake of justice and righteousness, the Dragon Queen could set aside the hatred of her father's death and even publicly reveal her biological father's greatest scandal. What kind of spirit was that?
Jaime was deeply shaken.
The honorable knights he had mocked for years truly existed, and one of them was a great knightly queen.
The "Kingslayer" now found himself rebuilding his own faith in knighthood.
Of course, none of them knew about the Dragon Queen's grand ancestral redistribution plan.
Before the grand trial, the Mad King would become the ancestor of the Targaryen branch descended from the Imp.
If the Imp met an unfortunate end, it could just as well be attributed to Jon.
"What did you come to see me about, Myrcella?" Dany asked.
Jaime was still reeling and did not respond at once.
Dany raised an eyebrow. "I heard from Ser Barristan about what you experienced in King's Landing. If Myrcella were sent back now, could you guarantee her safety?"
That brought Jaime back to his senses. He shook his head with a bitter smile. "I was indeed worried about Myrcella before, but now… In Slaver's Bay, she is safer and has a better environment in which to grow.
Since you intend to publicly reveal His Majesty Aerys's burning of King's Landing, the matter between Cersei and me can no longer be concealed either. It is a good thing that Myrcella has left Westeros."
Even though scouts had discovered signs of wights in the Wolfswood more than thirty kilometers northwest of the city, the people of Winterfell were still shaken by three pieces of news.
Winterfell, the smithy.
By the furnace, the Hound, his bare upper body covered only by a leather apron, swung his hammer and struck a piece of red-hot dragonglass with all his strength. Clang after clang rang out, and with each blow, sparks scattered, leaving scorched marks on the leather.
Arya sat on a large oak table piled with dragonglass daggers. Her long snow boots dangled in midair, her legs swinging back and forth.
"Have you heard? The Dragon Queen not only forgave the Kingslayer for killing her father, she even called him 'a model of knightly honor equal to the Sword of the Morning, the White Bull, Barristan, and the other six White Knights,' and ultimately granted him the title of 'Grey Light Knight.'
"Grey lies between white and black. He slew his king, which is a crime, thus black. Yet he slew his king to save the realm and did not disgrace the white cloak he wore.
Black and white together make grey.
But the act of slaying a king for the sake of the people, while bearing eternal infamy in his king's stead, shines so brilliantly that the Dragon Queen named him the Grey Light Knight."
Her expression was complicated.
Since reuniting with her family, especially after returning to Winterfell and seeing Jon, Arya seemed to have undergone some kind of transformation. Her expressions had grown richer, and warmth had begun to return to her once icy eyes.
Yet she had not stopped practicing the Scripture of Death.
Rather, her cultivation had advanced to a higher level. Her emotions could now be controlled at will. She could be cold as ice, unruffled and almost inhuman, or she could return to normal, laughing and talking, loving and hating.
"So?" the Hound replied flatly.
Arya looked puzzled. "You're not surprised? Everyone in the castle is talking about it. They curse the Mad King's madness in burning King's Landing, are stunned by Jaime Lannister's unconventional interpretation of knightly greatness, and all praise the Dragon Queen's fairness and kingly bearing."
The Hound paused his hammering and sighed. "If I had heard about Jaime and the Dragon Queen three years ago, I might have been moved. But now, I have found my own faith on the Quiet Isle."
"The Faith of the Seven? You never believed in the knight's code or the Seven before. You were always shouting 'fuck the king' and 'fuck the Mother,' spouting blasphemies," Arya said.
"I don't curse the Seven anymore, but I don't feel much toward them either. I believe in and practice their teachings. If someone speaks the truth, whether he is a bastard or a saint, I will accept that truth," the Hound replied.
Arya frowned. "Doesn't that count as blasphemy?"
The Hound extended his right hand and opened his palm.
"Holy Light," he said.
A cluster of white light the size of a candle flame appeared in his palm. Its sacred glow calmed the heart at a glance.
But Arya was the exception. To her, the white light was dazzling, like forcing herself to stare at the noonday sun in summer.
"You've never seen the Holy Light spell?" the Hound asked, then his expression changed as he studied her seriously. "You find it glaring? Only evil creatures are harmed by Holy Light. Ordinary people feel warmth and peace."
"What counts as an evil creature? I've killed people," Arya asked in alarm.
"Restless souls that refuse to leave the mortal world, the wights outside the city, Cersei's white knight Robert Strong, and the dark sorcerers of Asshai all count as evil creatures."
The Hound brought the Holy Light in his palm close to Arya's rough, horse-like face. "What does it feel like?"
"Scorching. A slight sting." Arya's gray eyes flickered as she recalled her meditation method. Most likely, the Scripture of Death conflicted with the divine arts of the Seven.
"You—"
"I… I have practiced the dark sorcery of Asshai."
The Hound withdrew the Holy Light and frowned. "Your sister also follows the Seven. You could try it."
"A skinchanger is a holy child blessed by the Old Gods. How could she follow the Seven? My sister believes in the Seven, so she lost her direwolf and her skinchanging gift," Arya shook her head.
"Forget about me," she waved her hand and looked at the Hound curiously. "I didn't expect you to be a real priest.
I was actually going to suggest you go to Daenerys and ask her to heal your leg. The Kingslayer's left foot was healed by her."
Then she added, puzzled, "You're a priest. Why not heal your leg yourself?"
Before going to Braavos, Arya had followed the Hound everywhere.
Once, they stopped at the inn at the crossroads for a meal and ran into three of the Mountain's men drinking there.
With Arya's help, the Hound killed all three, but his own thigh and ear were wounded.
Before long, the untreated wounds became infected and inflamed. The towering brute collapsed and could no longer walk.
The Hound begged Arya for mercy. She refused.
She left her old companion to die in the riverside woods and went off to study in Braavos.
Later, the Hound was found by the elder of the Quiet Isle and saved, but his leg remained crippled.
"It can't be healed. Too much time has passed, and the wound on my leg has already closed. Healing spells are most effective at stopping bleeding on the battlefield. For things like colds, inflammation, poisoning, or food poisoning, herbs are actually better."
"The Kingslayer was worse off than you, but Daenerys healed him," Arya said.
The Hound shook his head and sighed. "She is a holy child of the Seven, different from me. I am not even as capable as High Septon Meribald.
Have you seen the pockmarked knight under Stannis?
The one called Richard Hope? He died once and was later resurrected by her.
She received the great resurrection spell from the Mother. Healing a crippled leg is nothing in comparison."
"I heard that pockmarked knight was a follower of the Red God, but because he carried an 'indulgence' given by Daenerys, he went straight to heaven.
Clearly, the indulgence has no requirement of faith. Anyone can use it.
These past few days, Daenerys has not left her quarters, probably to avoid nobles seeking to purchase indulgences from her.
Most of those nobles are followers of the Old Gods of the North.
But I can't blame them for fearing death. Even my sister Sansa wants to obtain one for me and Jon." Arya's expression was complicated.
"Did she get one?" the Hound asked curiously.
"She said we might as well go together in a couple of days," Arya glanced at his thigh, "and ask her to treat your leg as well. With a great battle approaching, it would be a waste to die at the hands of the Others because of a crippled leg."
"You're so concerned about my leg. Is it guilt?" the Hound asked strangely.
"You didn't injure your leg because of me. And you should be grateful I didn't kill you last time." Arya sneered, then added, "Do you know my brother Bran? The Kingslayer threw him from a tower and broke his spine. I want to see with my own eyes how Daenerys heals injuries."
Sensing the killing intent beneath the calm expression of the little she-wolf before him, the Hound asked softly, "Has Jaime been added to your death list?"
Arya had spent many days with the Hound. They had never truly opened their hearts to each other, as he had kidnapped her intending to ransom her to Robb. Yet she had the habit of reciting her death list before sleeping, and over time, the Hound had come to know it well.
He even knew that his own name had once been on it.
At that time, Jaime's name had not been included.
"He should count himself lucky. After fulfilling his promise to my mother, the matter of throwing Bran is settled," Arya said coldly.
"Where is your brother now?"
Arya's eyes flickered. "Bran is not in Winterfell and does not follow the Seven. Sansa says he cannot be treated by a priest of the Seven, but I want to ask Daenerys myself."
After some thought, the Hound agreed that having his leg healed would make fighting more satisfying. He removed his stiff leather apron, put on his armor and a wide, old goatskin cloak, and followed Arya toward the guest hall.
"I am a follower of the Seven. Give me an indulgence!"
"Your Grace, grant me ten indulgences to ensure my entire family goes to heaven, and I will convert to the Faith of the Seven and fight for the Mother!"
"Your Grace, I am willing to donate a hundred acres of land to the Church. Have mercy on us followers of the Old Gods of the North!"
When they arrived at the training yard before the guest hall, the Hound and Arya were stunned by the noisy, frenzied crowd.
(End of Chapter)
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