House of The Dragon:The Rise of the Emperor of the Seven Kingdoms

Matthos Tyrell looked at the gigantic castle before him with a calm gaze, his green eyes and curly brown hair complementing his handsome features. A perfectly trimmed mustache framed his lips. He was dressed in shades of green and gold.

"Robert, I think we’re entering a nest of snakes, or rather, a nest of dragons," Matthos said in a tired tone, though a smile played on his lips. The Lord of Highgarden didn’t look very old, perhaps in his early thirties.

Beside him stood an old man in dark red clothes and golden gloves. He had a crest of a cluster of grapes embroidered on his chest. It was none other than the elder brother of Ryam Redwyne, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Robert Redwyne.

"My lord, everyone will want to win your support to gain the votes of the entire Reach," Robert replied in a calm tone. "Some of them will try to grace you with something sweet, but others will try something more bitter."

"I hate bitter things," Matthos said with a laugh. He wasn’t exactly afraid; he even found things somewhat interesting.

If someone had told him one day that he could choose who would sit on the Iron Throne, he would have called that man mad. However, the gods were truly cruel to the Old King. His only living son had refused the throne, and his grandchildren were now battling for the Iron Throne.

"My lord, be careful; Targaryens are not kind, especially those seeking the Throne." Robert couldn’t help but advise Matthos to be cautious. Getting involved in this mess was asking to be used as a pawn in a larger game.

Loreon and Tymond were classic examples of this. No Game of Thrones is peaceful. Death was common, even among the Great Noble Houses. Robert didn’t want Matthos to die in some mysterious accident.

"I know, but I have no choice," Matthos said in a helpless tone. If it were another Noble House, they might stay further away from this matter, but House Tyrell could not, not when the very existence of House Tyrell was based on House Targaryen.

This was not an era where House Targaryen had no dragons, nor was it an era where House Tyrell was extremely powerful.

House Tyrell had taken power just over a hundred years ago and, compared to the surrounding noble houses, was a child. Without House Targaryen to coerce the other noble houses of the Reach, House Tyrell lacked the strength to deal with them.

So, even if it meant fighting to the death, Matthos had to do it; for if he didn’t, House Targaryen could choose someone else who would.

Robert fell silent and let out a sigh. Although House Tyrell appeared prestigious and powerful, it was House Targaryen’s dog to handle the strength of the Reach, just like House Tully, House Greyjoy, and House Baratheon.

This only didn’t happen in the North, the Westerlands, the Vale, and Dorne, which managed to preserve their Royal Houses. However, it was more than obvious that Aegon I Targaryen wanted to clear all nine regions of Westeros and put new nobles in place of those kings and queens to deal with the influence of the old nobility.

Honestly, it was a basic but essential move for any new dynasty. No one wants powerful vassals who have reigned too long in the realm.

Matthos looked at Robert and said with a smile, "You are loyal, Robert; my other vassals likely want to seize the chance to replace House Tyrell."

"I’ve seen too much war to want another, my lord," Robert Redwyne said with a sigh. House Redwyne was already too powerful; becoming stronger and more influential was not a good thing.

No one wants their neighbor to be too prosperous, as it highlights their own incompetence.

The Tyrell retinue continued its way toward Harrenhal. However, Matthos looked at the sea of tents with the Blackwood and Darry crests with a deep gaze. The strength of House Blackwood, in particular, was somewhat worrying.

House Tully must be trembling before such a powerful force that had no respect for them, let alone loyalty.

Along with Prince Maekar, House Tully didn’t even dare accuse all the prince’s allies of treason and disloyalty. That was truly a sad fate. However, if he were in House Tully’s position, he wouldn’t dare touch Prince Maekar either.

You don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Just as House Targaryen made House Hoare disappear, they could do the same to House Tully.

"The prince is young, but he is a man of great skill," Robert said in an emotional tone. He had read the letters from his younger brother, Ryam Redwyne, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Looking at Matthos, he commented calmly, "My brother subtly told me that the king admired Prince Maekar’s skills."

"However, he is a bastard," Matthos commented with a calm look. He looked at Robert and said with a smile, "A bastard remains a bastard, even if legitimized..."

Robert did not continue; he had already helped the prince as best he could. His feudal lord did not support him and would not in the future. This made the old man let out a sigh. He believed in his younger brother’s vision. Ryam always had a good eye for people, though he was terrible at giving advice.

’Viserys or Rhaenys?’ Robert thought with narrowed eyes. If Matthos wasn’t going to support Maekar, there were only two options. In the end, Viserys was the winner in Robert’s mind. After all, Rhaenys was a woman; how could a woman full of emotions be a good queen?

•

Harrenhal, Hall of a Hundred Hearths.

The Hall of a Hundred Hearths is a cavernous room with cool drafts, larger even than the throne room of the Red Keep. It could accommodate an entire army and still have room for another handful of men.

Great fireplaces are arranged along the walls approximately every three meters. Despite its name, it contains only about thirty fireplaces. The floor was smooth black slate, as were the pillars supporting the massive hall.

Above the steps, a throne of black stone could be seen. It was enormous and could easily accommodate three people side by side.

At this moment, Gael was seated on the throne; a silver circlet with a beautiful ruby in the center was placed around her head. The princess wore an entirely black dress with black scales on the shoulders.

Perhaps because Maekar preferred black, Gael did the same, especially recently when guests wouldn’t stop arriving.

Below the steps were Lord Roderick of House Blackwood and Lord Darnold of House Darry. Both men had solemn and cold expressions.

Roderick looked at Gael, seated on the throne, and showed a satisfied expression. With the help of the Blood Children, his son, Benedict, had managed to clear the entire castle and properly prepare it to receive the guests.

There were countless nobles at the tables in the hall; news of House Tyrell’s arrival had already spread, as they had been spotted arriving from afar.

Suddenly, the herald seemed to receive a message from a squire, straightened his body, and took a deep breath.

"Hear ye! Hear ye! Arriving at this moment is the esteemed and noble Lord Matthos Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Mander, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach, Warden of the South!!!" The herald spoke in a loud and clear voice for everyone in the hall.

At the herald’s words, the gates of the hall were opened, and a massive retinue of men entered; there were about five hundred people. Most were exquisitely dressed in bright, vivid tones. There was an intrinsic pride in their manners and expressions.

"Such pomp," Darnold Darry said in a sarcastic tone. "They look like a bunch of arrogant peacocks."

"The nobles of the Reach think everyone but themselves are barbarians without chivalric culture," Roderick said in an amused tone.

"Look at their armor, not a scratch. They’ve likely only participated in tournaments their whole lives." Darnold looked with disdain at the nobles of the Reach.

Roderick laughed but soon returned to a solemn expression when he saw Matthos reach the base of the steps.

"I, Matthos of House Tyrell, greet you, Princess Gael." Matthos knelt and greeted the princess with the highest honor.

Before such a scene, the nobles of the Reach did not hesitate and also knelt. Their Feudal Lord had knelt; they could not remain standing, or it would be thought they were the Lord Paramount of the Mander.

Then silence hung in the air; Gael had not spoken, but the lords were still kneeling.

Matthos felt something was wrong and looked up, where he saw the princess’s eyes staring at him with a calm gaze, but there was a touch of coldness in that look.

The princess did not like him. Matthos reached this conclusion in an instant. However, remembering whose wife the princess would be, he understood what was happening.

Taking a deep breath, Matthos showed his best smile and spoke again.

"I, Matthos of House Tyrell, greet you, Princess Gael."

The silence that followed was even more awkward; all the nobles present looked at each other and understood what was happening.

Suddenly, a calm and cold voice rang out in the hall.

"Dear aunt, it is not proper to treat a guest like this; it is very rude. Just like your future husband."

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Note: Yesterday I gave The Acolyte a chance; I figured it couldn’t be as bad as people said. My dear readers, it’s worse than I imagined.

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/GOTSW

Read my other books:

House of The Dragon:The Rise of the Emperor of the Seven Kingdoms

Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos

Percy Jackson: Godwyn the Golden.

Game Of Thrones: The King’s Court Wizard