"I still have the Golden Company. I'm far stronger than Daenerys, who only relied on a few dozen Dothraki to conquer the world." Sansa's face was pale, and her tone lacked certainty.
"If you truly think mercenaries are more reliable than the khalasar, then we should split up right now. I'll return to Dragonstone, you go back to Winterfell, and we might as well dump the grain on Tarth Island and let it rot." Tyrion crossed his arms, standing by the bedside, sneering.
Sansa knew in her heart that the Golden Company was not completely reliable, but she could not stand the dwarf's mockery and forced herself to argue, "The Golden Company once swore a blood oath of loyalty to Aegon. Now that oath has transferred to me and Catelyn."
Tyrion could see she was at the end of her strength, arguing only because she refused to concede.
He decided to take a step back instead of pressing her further.
"You don't have a fully trustworthy foundation, so try building your own. If you don't understand how, I can help you."
Seeing that the dwarf was no longer relentlessly attacking, Sansa relaxed from her tense, battle-ready state. She did not rejoice in any sense of victory and simply followed his lead. "How do I build such a foundation?"
"Why does the Dragon Queen have so many loyal followers?" Tyrion asked.
"Because of the dragons," Sansa replied.
"What exactly did Littlefinger teach you? Surely not just bedroom tricks?" The dwarf looked at her oddly.
"You, you, you, what nonsense are you talking about!" Sansa was flustered, angry, and embarrassed.
"I was still a virgin when I married Aegon. Septon Meribald can testify for me! Why am I even telling you this!"
She covered her face, mortified.
"Enough, stop dragging poor old Meribald into this. That honest man knows nothing and is simply willing to believe you." Tyrion waved his hand dismissively. "From the first time I met you, I knew Littlefinger had trained you countless times. Don't deny it. I understand him too well, and I understand you better than you think."
"Get out! Get out!" Sansa shouted angrily.
The dwarf did not leave. Instead, he grinned. "I'm no better. Didn't I say I needed ten thousand kisses from prostitutes to lift my curse?
Actually, when you're with me, there's no need to maintain that pure and untouchable 'Saint Sansa' image. I don't care about your past, and you can't hide it anyway.
Go look at my sister. That's someone truly detached from the mortal world, practically becoming a goddess. Even now, I can't imagine how Drogo managed to get her pregnant back then."
The dwarf shook his head. "Unfortunately, you can't imitate the Dragon Queen's style. In the end, you'll only walk the old path of a 'chaste queen who drinks moon tea.'"
"I don't want to discuss this with you," Sansa said coldly, raising the sacred contract. "If you cannot give me a reasonable explanation, I will give the remaining two hundred thousand tons of grain to Stannis for free. I'll only ask one thing: kill that incestuous brother and sister of yours."
The dwarf smiled and gave a thumbs-up. "Not bad. You've found my weak point."
Sansa couldn't help glancing downward at him.
The dwarf noticed and smugly thrust his hips forward.
Only after she blushed and looked away did he continue, "At first, dragons only inspire fear. Turning that fear into reverence is extremely difficult.
Take Stannis, for example. He also has a two-headed dragon, but who truly follows him?
Daenerys succeeded because she set a great goal for her followers and continuously strove for it, winning again and again. So, do you understand now?"
The anger faded from Sansa's face, replaced by a dawning realization.
She might not be exceptionally clever, but she was eager to learn and skilled at absorbing valuable lessons from others.
"If I want to succeed, I should imitate her: set a goal, then keep fighting and keep winning," she murmured.
"Learn from those who succeed and take lessons from those who fail." Tyrion looked at her with satisfaction and smiled. "Cersei and Littlefinger were both your teachers, but they are also failures.
From them, you can only learn underhanded tricks.
Those tricks may work in palace intrigue and power struggles at times, but they are completely unsuitable for founding a kingdom."
"If you want the Iron Throne, you should change your model and learn from her grand and dignified imperial path."
Sansa was intrigued. "What should I do? I don't have dragons or her personal strength."
Tyrion shook his head. "She is powerful now, but her starting point was worse than yours.
I told you to learn her strengths, not to copy her completely.
There is no better goal than ending the Long Night, and no better victory than defeating the White Walkers.
You should abandon what Littlefinger taught you. Hiding in the shadows will turn you into a shadow yourself, and shadows cannot stand in the light.
A ruler should stand in the sun, facing the doubts, challenges, and hostility of the masses, as well as their cheers and devotion."
After a pause, giving Sansa time to absorb his words, he continued, "Tarth Island is a good place. It can avoid the White Walkers on the mainland.
But that is both its strength and its weakness. If you avoid them, how will you fight them?
So you need to establish a forward battlefield.
That battlefield must be one of the White Walkers' main targets. Otherwise, you are no different from other lords defending their castles.
Defending Winterfell and defending a minor fortress are not the same, are they?
Besides strategic importance, it must also be defensible, a place where you can advance or retreat."
"Storm's End!" Sansa's eyes lit up. In that instant, she began to understand the dwarf's intention.
"Yes, Storm's End! I honestly don't understand why Stannis didn't return there and instead stubbornly attacked King's Landing." Tyrion shook his head. "The walls of Storm's End, except the seaside side, are thirty meters high, as tall as Winterfell's inner walls.
More importantly, they are twelve meters thick, enough to station an armored squad on top. It's nearly impossible to breach by conventional means.
The seaside wall is even more formidable, forty-five meters high and twenty-four meters thick, like a cliff face.
Beyond its massive structure, Storm's End is protected by spells woven into its walls, preventing magic from passing through."
"By the way, Winterfell also seems to have magical protection. Both Winterfell and Storm's End were built by Brandon the Builder. How did it perform during the war against the White Walkers? Why was it frozen over?" Tyrion asked curiously.
Sansa thought for a moment, recalling the coffin of the legendary King in the North she had seen in the crypts. "Storm's End is still the same as it was eight thousand years ago, but Winterfell has been expanded several times. At least the outer walls were rebuilt by King Edric Snowbeard.
If the taller inner walls had remained intact, there would have been no need to rebuild the outer ones."
"The White Walkers will eventually march south. When they do, we can test whether Storm's End's magical walls still work."
Tyrion's legs grew tired from standing, so he stepped forward and sat on the edge of Sansa's bed despite her slight resistance. Smiling, he said, "Now that the contract is signed, you are the temporary Lady of Storm's End. At least during the Long Night, no one can question your legitimacy.
Those Stormlands nobles once joined Aegon's 'True Dragon Alliance.' With some effort, it won't be hard to bring them to Storm's End. After all, defending it means saving their own lives.
You should immediately announce the contract to the lords of the Seven Kingdoms and send out ravens."
After briefly considering the map of King's Landing, he continued, "The vast southern plains between King's Landing and Storm's End have no natural defenses. That's another opportunity.
You can write to the lords of the Stormlands and the neighboring Reach, inviting them to station at Storm's End and form a 'Southern Plains Anti-White Walker Alliance.'
In reality, it's the third defensive line.
The Neck will inevitably fall. There's no doubt about that. Casterly Rock, the Vale, and Dorne are all building third lines of defense.
With Tarth Island as your rear base and Storm's End as your frontline, your defensive line will be the only viable choice for the Stormlands lords. They will have no choice but to join you.
Naturally, you will become the leader of this 'alliance.'
Within the Seven Kingdoms' anti-White Walker council, you might even secure a position as chairman."
Sansa was filled with longing, her face glowing with joy. Before, she had only thought of using tricks to "snatch" the Iron Throne, which left her feeling insecure.
Now, the dwarf had cleared the fog before her, revealing a clear and dignified path to the peak of power.
"How should I protect them? Or rather, what did Daenerys do?" she asked eagerly.
"After giving birth, you should immediately move to Storm's End, put on armor, and hold a magic staff."
"A magic staff? I don't have one."
"A glass candle. When the time comes, have a splendid staff made from dragonglass, with a magical gem embedded at the top.
Use your power as a moon chanter to light it. You don't need to do anything else. Just walk around calmly in front of everyone, like my sister, looking completely confident. Those common folk won't understand anything. They'll believe you're as powerful a sorceress as the Dragon Queen.
Oh, and you follow the Seven. You can strengthen your religious cultivation. If you become a priest, you'll be a dual-path extraordinary, qualified to compete for the top position among the younger generation of Westeros' supernatural world.
The main issue is your past. 'Sansa Stark was tormented by Cersei, manipulated by Littlefinger, and married a ridiculous fake prince.' That makes you seem foolish and weak, nothing like a powerful ruler.
You need to change your image. As my sister would say, you need to rebuild your persona.
All famous rulers share one trait: strength."
At this point, Tyrion sighed with emotion. "Those maesters and their so-called 'real world' have misled the people of the Seven Kingdoms terribly. Only in Westeros has supernatural power been suppressed.
Beyond the Wall and across the Narrow Sea, the supernatural still thrives, while we've become fools and blind men."
"When I first arrived in Slaver's Bay, I actually believed that the young Dragon Queen couldn't possibly rival the twin prodigies of Volantis in fire magic. Isn't that laughable?
Even someone as clever as me couldn't understand the intricacies of magic. So when you ride a wyvern, wear a white-gold sacred priest robe, and raise a staff that lights up like the sun, you'll look like a legendary queen from a mural. These Westerosi bumpkins won't dare question your power."
"False appearances are still false. What I need more is the collective strength of an army," Sansa said calmly.
Tyrion looked at her approvingly. "That awareness is excellent. Even the Dragon Queen needed to form the 'Mother of Dragons Guard.'
Once you demonstrate 'powerful' supernatural strength, winning people's hearts becomes easy.
It was only after Daenerys hatched her dragons that her khalasar became truly loyal."
(End of Chapter)
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