Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 460 My Second Hometown—Dorn

The winds of Dorne are quite different from those across the sea.

As Euron stepped out of that invisible door, the dry, scorching air instantly enveloped him. He took a deep breath, his lungs filled with the scent of sea buckthorn and sun-baked rocks that he hadn't smelled for over a year.

Since his eastward expedition, from the Summer Islands to the Serpent Islands, and then all the way to Qarth, the distance had gradually exceeded the limits of his Devil Fruit powers. This journey home took him longer than he had anticipated. Dew condensed on his shoulder armor, only to be quickly evaporated by the heat.

Euron walked alone through the familiar corridor without disturbing anyone. His fingers traced the mottled marks on the painted wall—marks left when Euron first measured his height: the jujube tree in the courtyard had grown taller; when he left home last year, it was less than his waist.

The door to the bedchamber was ajar.

As soon as Euron stepped in, a short sword was pointed at his neck.

"Hey, look carefully before you stab me, it's me! I'm back!"

Victoria was stunned, even dropping her favorite cake from her left hand, clearly not expecting Euron's sudden appearance. Euron lightly flicked the blade of his sword with his finger before Victoria reacted, sheathing her sword. She glanced at the fallen cake, gave a resentful snort, and sat back down at the table.

Victoria continued eating her pastries, but her eyes remained fixed on Euron.

The sounds coming from outside left everyone inside and in the courtyard somewhat stunned. When Euron entered the room...

As Asara was dressing in front of the mirror, the bronze mirror suddenly reflected the figure she had longed for, and her comb fell to the stone floor with a "thud." Ilya abruptly turned from the window, her embroidery slipping silently from her hands. Arianne, who had been coaxing Alexander to a nap, slowly stood up. Alexander, rubbing his sleepy eyes, stared blankly at the weary-looking man in her arms.

"Father!"

Darren burst into the courtyard like a whirlwind, his wooden sword still dusty with sand. Caesar, following closely behind, was more composed, but his eyes, so similar to his father's, shone with an astonishing light. The two children stood frozen at the doorway, barely recognizing the man weathered by the sea.

Euron crouched down, looking them in the eye. Caesar had grown quite a bit taller, and Daeron already had the air of a young adult. He reached out to pat their heads, only to find his palms covered in new calluses.

"Your beard is prickly," little Alexander complained in his mother's arms, squirming in his baby voice, but he grabbed a lock of Euron's hair and wouldn't let go.

Princess Rhaenys opened her eyes wide and lunged at Euron, who laughed and lifted her high in the air.

Over the past year, reports from the Eastern Expedition had occasionally arrived, but none had ever felt as real as the tangible impact of this moment. He had missed Daren's first solo horseback ride, missed Caesar's first poem memorized by the maester, missed every day and night Alexander went from babbling to speaking clearly, and missed Rhaenys's laughter as she learned to swim in the sea.

As the sun set, it cast long shadows of the family onto the glazed tiles. In the distance, the evening bells rang, a sound unlike the waves of Qarth or the war songs of the Isle of Women. It was a uniquely Dornish rhythm, steady and lingering, like an ever-flowing spring deep in the desert.

They stood quietly beside him, no one asking about the details of the past year. Some partings need no explanation, and some returns are the best answer in themselves.

At this moment, the general who had conquered city-states and the man who had been crowned king finally returned home as a husband and father.

Asara put down her comb, her serene profile reflected in the bronze mirror. She didn't turn around, her voice as soft as if she were talking to herself: "How long do you plan to stay this time?"

Euron's gaze swept over Ashara's straight back, Ilya's paused embroidery needle, and Arianne's slightly furrowed brow. He walked to the center of the room, sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows and casting dappled shadows on him.

"I'm not leaving."

When those three words were spoken, the room was so quiet that the sound of the fountain in the courtyard could be heard.

"Ha." Ariane's cold snort broke the silence. She bent down to pick up the fallen embroidery, her fingers gripping it so tightly they almost snapped the thread. "It all sounds fake. You said the same thing last time, and what happened? One year and three months."

Ilya chuckled softly, her silver needles beginning to weave again. She was embroidering a soaring eagle, its wings outstretched, its gaze sharp. "How could a man who wants to conquer the world suddenly settle down? Like a desert storm, he's destined to sweep across the land."

Euron stood still. They knew him too well, even better than he knew himself.

The sun was setting over Dorne, turning the entire desert blood red.

Euron said in a deep voice, "The eastern seas have been pacified, the throne of Qarth has an heir, and the promise of the Isle of Women has been fulfilled."

"My goal is right here." He walked toward the four children. Darren was trying to straighten his chest and imitate his father's posture. Caesar was intently observing the adults' expressions. The youngest, Alexander, was still clutching his clothes and wouldn't let go.

The evening breeze swept through the corridor, carrying the fragrance of blooming flowers from afar. At this moment, even Ariane, who distrusted him the most, remained silent in rebuttal.

They all knew that this man was not destined to stay forever, but at least his promise at this moment was sincere.

Ashara rushed towards Euron like a desert whirlwind, crashing into his arms. Her fist pounded heavily on his chest, making a dull thud, before she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face in his dusty clothes. "You bastard..." her voice was muffled, tinged with a long-suppressed sob, "For so long..."

Euron was jolted back slightly by her bump, and gently stroked her trembling back with his large hand, laughing, "What's wrong, missed me?"

Asara let out a heavy "hmm" in his arms, like a wronged girl, completely unlike her usual calm and composed self.

"Don't worry," Euron said, looking around at them with a confident smile, "this time I'll definitely be staying for a long time."

His gaze swept over his wife and children, and then, as if remembering something, he added smugly, "Don't forget, I'm still the Duke of Harrenhal in Westeros."

This sentence is like a pebble thrown into a still lake, instantly creating ripples.

Arianne was the first to laugh out loud, her laughter crisp and tinged with mockery. Ilya covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling slightly. Even Ashara, who had her face buried in Euron's arms, looked up, tears still glistening in her eyes, but she couldn't help but laugh.

"How dare you say that!" Asara poked his chest reproachfully. "Since you became Duke of Harrenhal, you've spent less than a month in Harrenhal in total. You went straight to the high seas, hundreds of thousands of miles away, and became a complete absentee ruler!"

Ilya gently smoothed her wind-blown hair and replied softly, "And the bank you opened with millions of gold dragons, you handed it all over to other people to manage. You're really carefree, aren't you worried at all? Aren't you afraid of losing every last penny?" Her tone was gentle, but her words were sharp and to the point.

Euron's voice was filled with unprecedented trust as he laughed, "With you all watching over me, what do I have to worry about?"

Princess Arianne laughed so hard she almost spilled the pomegranate juice on her embroidered goldfinch skirt. She simply put the silver cup down on the table, tears of laughter still glistening in her eyes.

She deliberately drew out her words, a hint of smug playfulness in her voice, and said, "I heard King Robert mentioned you at the royal council. He said your territory is now larger than the seven kingdoms combined." She mimicked Robert's gruff voice, "That guy probably doesn't even consider Harrenhal a threat anymore!"

Hearing this, Ilya looked up from the window, the silver needle in her hand gleaming faintly in the sunlight. Ashara also straightened up from Euron's embrace, looking at her husband with slight worry.

Arianne laughed even harder, as if she was really enjoying the effect of the news: "Robert also said that you probably don't think much of it either."

"I don't care about Harrenhal or the title of Duke. When you come back, I might just strip you of your Dukeship of Harrenhal."

The courtyard fell silent for a moment, save for the gentle murmur of the fountain. Caesar and Alexander held their breath, and even the youngest, Daren, stared wide-eyed.

Euron calmly walked to the stone table and poured himself a glass of wine. The amber liquid rippled in the glass, reflecting his composed smile.

"That shouldn't be the case." He took a sip, enjoying the aroma of the Dornish wine on his tongue, and said nonchalantly, "After all, I haven't done anything wrong."

Euron said slowly, like a scholar lecturing his students, "The laws of Westeros do not explicitly state that I, as the Duke, must stay in my castle every day."

This remark elicited a soft chuckle from Ilya, who covered her mouth, while Ashara breathed a sigh of relief. Ariane raised an eyebrow, seemingly both amused and expecting the answer.

"Besides," Euron reached out and ruffled Caesar's hair, and the little boy immediately straightened his back, "is expanding territory and adding glory to the Iron Throne really a sin?"

The setting sun cast his long shadow across the paved ground. This man rarely stayed in Harrenhal, but his influence had long since crossed the Narrow Sea, reverberating in every corner of the continent.

Arianne finally couldn't help but laugh again, this time with a hint of appreciation: "It seems our Duke has long since thoroughly studied the legal provisions."

As dusk settled, the orange-red sunset cast a gentle glow over the white buildings of Dorne.

Youlun stood under the veranda, gazing at the scene in the courtyard, and suddenly felt a strange sense of realization.

Ashara was bending down to straighten little Darren's collar, the setting sun outlining her focused profile; Arianne sat by the fountain, her fingers deftly peeling a pomegranate, the bright red seeds falling into a silver bowl, while Caesar and Alexander surrounded her, eagerly waiting to share in the sweetness; Elia, not far away under the grape trellis, softly told the children the legend of the stars, her voice as gentle as the night breeze.

Once upon a time, this place was merely a distant southern land to him, full of exotic charm, but not his true home. The harsh waves and salty sea breezes of the Iron Islands were the memories etched into his very bones. There lay his initial ambitions, and also the iron chair of House Greyjoy.

But now, looking at the slightly chaotic yet vibrant scene before him, composed of three women and four children, a strange sense of peace spread through his heart. The air was filled with the aroma of baked flatbread, the sweet scent of jujube trees, and the familiar scents of his wife and children. These smells, without him realizing it, had become his coordinates for recognizing "home."

Children are born and grow up here, their laughter echoing through these corridors: women have gradually embedded traces of their lives into the fabric of this building. Their personalities, their preferences, and even the occasional subtle atmosphere between them, all combine to weave this warm web into which he now finds himself.

The Iron Islands remained the source of his bloodline, the cold forge that shaped him. But Dorne, this fiery, colorful, and vibrant land, had unknowingly become a warm harbor where he could find refuge. It did not replace the Iron Islands, but rather opened up another equally profound, even more tender, territory in his life.

A gentle evening breeze carried a pleasant coolness. Euron took a deep breath, inhaling the rich, earthy scent of life.

腑。

This place is now my hometown.