The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Everyone in the hall saw Jeyne faint.

Lord Tywin's expression remained unchanged.

But Lord Gawen quickly jogged to Jeyne's side, wearing a smile plastered with concern. "Apologies, My Lord. Apologies, Ser Gregor. Apologies, my lords. The young lady is rather frail and cannot handle strong emotions. When she gets too excited, her body tends to go weak. It's just joy, nothing more, she'll be fine in no time."

As Gawen rambled on, he helped the Lannister maids escort Jeyne Westerling out of the hall and into the Maester's Tower.

Lord Tywin's gaze swept across the hall. Silence immediately fell once again.

"Ser Gregor, it seems my daughter Jeyne may be suffering from a minor ailment..."

"My Lord, Ser Gregor is grateful beyond words for this marriage. The Clegane family shall never forget your generosity." Gregor quickly interjected.

He could sense the Lord's tone beginning to take a subtle turn, perhaps a change of mind, and that was something he couldn't allow.

A wife like Jeyne, graceful, clever, and peerlessly beautiful, what man in his right mind would give that up? Sure, she fainted the moment the engagement was announced, but that couldn't be helped. Once they were married, love could be nurtured in time.

All around the hall, the young unmarried nobles felt a pang, not just for Jeyne's sake, but for their own.

Unlike the Red Keep's throne room in King's Landing, where noblewomen and ladies-in-waiting were often present during court sessions, the Westernlands' Hall of Governance allowed no such thing. Tywin never permitted his vassals to bring wives or daughters to matters of state. Today's presence of Jeyne Westerling was an exception; she was seated at Tywin's side, because she herself was part of today's political business.

The earls, barons, and knights present all harbored a storm of emotions: envy, bitterness, even a tinge of resentment. Jeyne Westerling, renowned for both her beauty and talent, had scorned every suitor that came her way. Yet now, she was to marry the most infamous brute in the Westerlands, the Mountain.

Gregor Clegane had already been married twice. Both wives had supposedly "tripped and broken their necks." But whether they truly died of accidents or were tortured to death, everyone in the hall had their suspicions.

Many nobles now deeply regretted their choices.

They had made a bet, betting that Jeyne would marry Ser Ado Serrett instead of the Mountain. Once the betting began yesterday, it quickly escalated. By the end, aside from Raff and a few drunkards too far gone to know better who wagered on Gregor, everyone else backed Ser Ado.

Even Ser Ado himself placed a heavy bet: Goldenleaf Bay, a small coastal plot within the Silverhill lands.

Goldenleaf Bay lay on the western edge of Silverhill territory, near the Clegane lands. It had never been mined, but Gregor had already sniffed out its value, rich in gold. The area was small, just a sliver of Silverhill's broader mineral wealth, but it was a golden prize nonetheless.

The very stone used to build Clegane's Keep had been quarried from a stony outcrop just west of Goldenleaf Bay. Dig down from the quarry, curve the tunnel just a bit, and you'd be in the gold-rich veins of Goldenleaf.

Wager or not, Gregor had already set his sights on it. If he won the bet, he could mine it openly and legally. If he lost, or if Ado never took the bait, Gregor would still mine it... just under cover of night.

Always prepared, two plans, one goal.

This time, the Mountain had won big. Goldenleaf Bay now belongs permanently to House Clegane. And should they ever run short on coins, a little digging just beyond the edge of their new domain would take them straight into Serrett territory, a few nibbles off their gold mine, nice and easy.

Ser Ado Serrett stood among the knightly ranks, face ashen.

Losing Goldenleaf Bay was bad enough. But losing Jeyne Westerling, that truly broke him.

Last night, in the Lannister dining hall, he and Jeyne had brushed past each other. They'd exchanged only two or three words, but the fire in her eyes had said more than a hundred. They had understood each other.

Back in his chambers, Ado hadn't slept a wink. Partly from the wine, but mostly from Jeyne. When Lord Gawen had last come to propose marriage, he hadn't brought Jeyne along. Ado had only heard of her beauty and talent, never seen it himself. After yesterday's ceremony, he realized that even the tales hadn't done her justice.

To a passionate young man, beauty on that level could make him forget all about a girl's family misfortunes. And it wasn't like House Serrett lacked wealth.

"Hey!" whispered a burly young noble, nudging Ado. "You cost me fifty gold dragons, you cursed bastard."

The speaker was Lyle Crakehall, from Crakehall. House Crakehall was known for producing strapping, hard-headed men.

Ser Lyle Crakehall was the second son of Lord Crakehall. Of his three brothers, Lyle was the biggest and strongest, earning him the nickname "Strongboar." His tunic bore the family crest, a wild boar, black and white, on a brown field.

Though he cursed at Ado, he did so only with lip movements, silent mouthing.

In Lord Tywin's hall, no one dared to raise their voice or hurl insults.

Ado was seething. Were it not for the setting, he would've already drawn his sword and driven it into the Strongboar's belly. But who in their right mind would dare draw steel during a council summoned by Tywin Lannister?

No one.

Barely containing his fury, Ado mouthed back: "Fat swine. Duel."

"Get lost." Strongboar responded with equal venom. "I'm mad about losing fifty dragons, not enough to die over it."

"Well, I am ready to kill you." Ado spat silently, his rage burning.

"Fine then. I'll oblige you." said Strongboar, who had a temper to match his size.

High on the dais, atop seven steps, Lord Tywin sat, watching the hall below.

"Ser Lyle Crakehall." Tywin said.

His voice wasn't loud, but to Strongboar, it crashed like thunder in his ears.

Being called out by the Lord was never good news.

Lyle Crakehall immediately stepped out from the line, right fist over his heart in salute.

"What were you saying?" Tywin asked, his pale green eyes calm and unblinking.

Cold sweat broke out across Strongboar's back. His father, Lord Crakehall, looked on with bulging eyes and a furious glare aimed straight at his reckless son.

"My Lord, I was just overjoyed by Ser Gregor and Lady Jeyne's engagement. I was wondering what sort of gift would be worthy of such an esteemed couple."

"Oh?" Tywin turned to Ado. "Ser Ado, was Ser Lyle discussing gifts with you just now?"

Ado had no choice but to step forward, fist to chest. "Yes, My Lord."

"Very well. Since you young men are so enthusiastic, why don't you set an example, Ser Ado? Today, my daughter Jeyne is betrothed to Ser Gregor. What gift will House Serrett of Silverhill present to mark the occasion?"

Ado's mouth went dry. His chest felt aflame with anxiety. Forcing a smile, he answered:

"My Lord, Silverhill shall present Lady Jeyne with a string of pearls… two ruby bracelets…" He glanced at Tywin, who didn't seem impressed. This was a moment to set the standard for all the noble houses of the Westerlands.

Ado's scalp prickled. Gritting his teeth, he continued, "A coral onyx tree, a pair of emerald bowls… and two hundred gold dragons. Silks and satins, perfumes and powders in full measure."

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