GOT: My Secret Lover is sansa-Chapter 124 Red Omen

Harrenhal, The Riverlands

"A hundred thousand swords from the Reach," Tyrion said, staring at the raven’s scroll as if it might bite him. "And twenty thousand Northmen pressing down from the Trident. It seems our Northern ward didn’t just flip the cyvasse board, He set it on fire."

Tywin Lannister didn’t blink. He stood over the sprawling map of Westeros on the heavy oak table, his pale green eyes calculating the cold, hard mathematics of their situation. He didn’t look angry. He looked entirely pragmatic.

"We are caught in a pincer," Tywin stated, his voice flat. He reached out and knocked over the wooden wolf token in the Riverlands, then the golden rose token on the Rose Road. "If we march south to meet the Tyrells, the Northmen take us in the rear. If we hold Harrenhal, we are starved out and slaughtered."

Tyrion took a deep, fortifying swallow of his wine. "So... what brilliant stratagem do we pull from our sleeves?"

"We retreat," Tywin said simply.

Tyrion nearly choked on his wine. He set his goblet down hard. "Retreat? To where? The Westerlands? Father, if we abandon the Riverlands, the road to King’s Landing is completely open. You would leave the capital to the wolves and the roses?"

"I will not sacrifice the entire Lannister army to hold a broken line," Tywin replied, his tone like grinding stone. "King’s Landing is a fortress. Let Cersei hold it."

"With what?" Tyrion argued, pushing himself out of his oversized chair. "She has the City Watch and a few household guards! Against a hundred thousand Reachmen, those walls won’t hold for a day. She will be absolutely massacred. And she has no leverage left to stop it. Do you really think Thorne will halt his army just because she threatens the Stark girl?"

Tywin turned slowly. His eyes were hard and unforgiving.

"Cersei made her bed the moment she allowed Joffrey to take Eddard Stark’s head," Tywin said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy register. "That one stroke of the sword destroyed the only real leverage we had. You cannot negotiate a peace treaty when you’ve already butchered the man’s family."

Tywin walked back to the table and began rolling up the maps with sharp, efficient movements.

"Cersei named herself Queen Regent," Tywin continued coldly. "She claims she is as capable a ruler as I am. Let her prove it. We break camp at dawn and march west to preserve our strength. If King’s Landing falls, it falls because of her own stupidity."

Tywin secured the leather strap on the map tube and tossed it onto the table. He didn’t look defeated. If anything, his eyes were sharper than they had been all evening.

"Wars are rarely won in the mud, Tyrion," Tywin said, his voice lowering to a calculating hum. "They are won with gold, patience, and the ambitions of lesser men. We will retreat to Casterly Rock and let this Thorne boy drag his massive army across the continent. A hundred and twenty thousand men eat a lot of food. Let them starve each other."

He walked back to his chair and sat down, lacing his fingers together. "What word from Pyke?"

Tyrion blinked, taking a second to catch up to his father’s sudden shift in strategy. He set his wine down. "Balon Greyjoy? The man is a bitter, proud old squid. But... he hates the Starks far more than he hates us."

"Send him a raven tonight," Tywin ordered smoothly. "Offer him the North. Tell him the Iron Throne will officially recognize him as King of the Iron Islands if he attacks their coast."

...

The Rose Road

The dusty expanse of the Rose Road stretched to the horizon, a sea of golden grass trampled flat by a hundred thousand marching feet. At the head of the vanguard, Alaric sat atop his massive black warhorse, the steady, rhythmic sway of the beast vibrating through his heavy boots.

Beside him, Margaery rode with an effortless, fluid grace.

Rivy, the direwolf pup, was leaping through the brush, chasing a field hare with clumsy, oversized bounds. She barked playfully, her tail wagging so hard her entire back half wiggled. To any observer, she looked like nothing more than an cute, cuddly companion.

"Your wolf is rather playful, husband," Margaery teased, a warm smile touching her lips as

Rivy tumbled into a ditch and scrambled out, shaking dust from her black fur.

Alaric gave a slow nod, his gaze fixed forward. "She is young," he rumbled. "For now, she just plays."

Alaric focused his mind. The translucent blue interface rippled into existence, completely invisible to Margaery.

[New Unit Unlocked: Sky-Scourge Sentinel (Gargoyle)]

Cost: 6,000 MP per unit Type: High-Altitude Siege Construct

Description: A thirty-foot titan of weathered stone. Winged siege constructs capable of ’Stoneform Descent’—dropping from the clouds like meteors to absolutely shatter enemy fortifications.

Alaric’s thumb brushed the heavy pommel of his sword. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

"Alaric?" Margaery’s voice pulled him back. She was watching him, her brow furrowed slightly. "You went completely quiet. Are you worrying about the battle?"

Alaric reached out, catching a loose strand of her chestnut hair and tucking it gently behind her ear.

Before Margaery could ask anything more, a sudden, unnatural chill swept across the Rose Road.

The vanguard’s horses began to whinny in blind terror, their eyes rolling back as they fought their riders’ reins. Even Rivy stopped her playing. The pup’s fur stood completely on end, and she let out a low, guttural snarl aimed straight up at the sky.

"Alaric? What is that?" Margaery gasped, pulling her fur-lined cloak tight against her throat. Her breath puffed out in a thick cloud of white mist. "Look! In the sky!"

High above, bleeding through the pale blue afternoon, a jagged streak of crimson tore across the atmosphere. The Red Comet, which had been a faint omen for weeks, suddenly flared with violent, blinding intensity. It pulsed, turning the entire horizon the color of fresh arterial blood.

But Alaric wasn’t looking at the comet. He was staring dead ahead at the empty air.

///

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