House Whent was finally reunited within the gentle, glowing aura of the Pale Flame. Those brutally separated by death could once again look upon each other's faces.
Lady Shella could not control herself. She immediately stepped forward, desperately wanting to embrace the husband and children she had not seen in over a decade.
Roman reacted quickly, stepping in her path to gently block her way.
"My Lady, wait! I have tamed the flames so they will not burn your flesh, but a sudden physical disruption might shatter the spirits."
Roman then turned around and bowed deeply to Lord Walter Whent and his five glowing children.
"My lord."
Lord Walter, looking exactly as he had during the Great Tourney, returned the solemn greeting.
"You have our eternal gratitude, child. House Whent will never forget your profound kindness."
Knowing his magic had limits, Roman tactfully stepped aside. "My lord, the magic can only sustain this physical manifestation for twenty minutes at most. Please, speak quickly. This will likely be your final chance."
The ghostly Whent family looked at each other, momentarily overwhelmed and unsure of where to begin. It was Lady Shella's beautiful daughter who finally broke the silence.
With a voice trembling with spectral tears, she reached out and gently lamented how much her mother had aged.
Her words broke the dam. The others eagerly chimed in, asking Lady Shella about her life over the past ten years.
There were no profound philosophical discussions or grand political schemes. There was only the warm, familiar, and desperately missed everyday conversation of a loving family.
Seeing that standing awkwardly in the crypts was not ideal, Roman quickly fetched a heavy stone bench for Lady Shella. With a focused wave of his hand, he conjured six shimmering chairs made entirely of pale fire for the spirits to sit upon.
Lady Shella gradually relaxed from her initial, overwhelming shock. She began to vividly recount her lonely decade, her stories flowing like a river.
All her years of bitter isolation and quiet observations were transformed into precious, joyful conversation. The suffocating aura of grief that had haunted the old woman for years vanished completely.
The family chatted and laughed freely. The cheerful, heartwarming atmosphere was so potent that Roman's Pale Flame seemed to happily dance in rhythm with their voices.
But the joyous reunion was tragically short. The twenty minutes passed in the blink of an eye.
It was time to say goodbye.
The glowing figures of Lord Walter and his children suddenly flickered, their edges blurring violently.
Seeing the light failing, Lady Shella could no longer hold back her tears. She broke down, weeping openly.
The blurred faces of her children twisted in equal heartbreak, knowing they were about to leave their mother behind once more.
Finally, Lord Walter stepped forward, raising a glowing hand to gently interrupt the weeping.
"It is a sheer miracle of the Seven that we were permitted this reunion. Since we are destined to part, my love, let us not make our final moments so bitter."
He looked at his wife with profound sorrow. "Shella, you will be left to rule this massive burden alone once again. I am so deeply sorry."
Lord Walter then turned away from his wife and bowed formally to Roman. "Child, when I lived, my word as the Lord of Harrenhal was absolute law. I am told you are an orphan with no family to your name. Is this true?"
Roman nodded solemnly. "Yes, my lord. I have been alone for as long as I can remember."
"Excellent!" Lord Walter's spectral face lit up with genuine joy. "Then hear me! I, Walter Whent, the rightful master of Harrenhal, hereby declare that you shall bear the noble bastard name of the Riverlands! From this day until your last, you are Roman Rivers, an officially recognized son and ward of House Whent!"
As the ghostly lord finished his declaration, his children began to clap. Their fiery hands scattered into sparks with each applause before instantly reforming.
Lord Walter and his children stepped closer to Roman. They told him about Lady Shella's favorite foods, her daily habits, and the little things that brought her comfort.
They begged the young man to take good care of their mother.
Finally, Lord Walter looked at Roman with a pleading gaze. "Roman, can you suppress the flames? I wish to embrace my wife one last time."
A bead of cold sweat rolled down Roman's temple. It was incredibly dangerous, but he slowly nodded.
"I will do my absolute best, my lord. Please, move carefully."
Roman clamped down on his magic, suffocating the raging output of the pale white flames until they were nothing but a soft, humming aura.
Trembling, Lord Walter stepped forward and wrapped his ghostly arms around Lady Shella.
There was no burning sensation. Instead, a deep, comforting warmth flowed directly into Lady Shella's soul.
In that fleeting instant, she let go of all her fears and hugged her husband and children tightly.
Amidst her heavy sobbing, the spirits of House Whent slowly dissolved. They scattered into the air like glowing fireflies, eventually fading into absolute darkness.
Lady Shella stood perfectly still, staring at the empty stone floor for a long time.
"My Lady?"
Roman stepped forward anxiously, worried the heartbreak had been too much for her to bear. But when she finally turned around, he was stunned by her expression.
Instead of the hollow, apathetic despair she had carried for years, Roman saw a fierce, unyielding resolve burning in her eyes.
For the first time since he had met the old woman, he could feel a vibrant, commanding vitality radiating from her bones.
"Roman Rivers," she said, her voice steady and surprisingly cheerful. "Let us return to the surface. Harrenhal still requires our attention."
The declaration did not remain a secret.
The news that Lady Shella Whent had officially adopted a young ghost-slayer, naming him Roman Rivers and the de facto heir to Harrenhal, spread through the Riverlands like wildfire.
Harrenhal was the largest and most strategically terrifying fortress in the Seven Kingdoms. Until now, Lady Shella had been the sole surviving member of her house.
Countless ambitious lords and greedy neighbors had been quietly plotting to seize the fertile lands surrounding the Gods Eye upon her eventual death. Roman's sudden, dramatic elevation to heir completely shattered those political schemes.
Overnight, Roman Rivers became one of the most conspicuous and closely watched figures in Westeros.
"My Lady, is it truly wise to be so high-profile?" Roman asked a few days later, pacing nervously across her solar. "Should we not have kept my new status a secret for a while longer?"
Roman was deeply stressed. According to the laws of the realm, he was now the undisputed successor to the greatest ruin in the world.
He had gone from an obscure, mutated servant to a major political player in a matter of hours. The sudden rise to power did not bring him joy; it placed a massive, lethal target directly on his back.
He knew exactly how ruthless the players of the Game of Thrones could be, and Harrenhal's current military strength was pitifully weak.
"No, child. The sooner your identity is cemented, the better it will deter the vultures," Lady Shella replied smoothly, looking completely refreshed and ten years younger. "While the Iron Throne might not particularly favor House Whent, King Robert Baratheon values peace. He will not reject an adoption that maintains stability in the Riverlands."
"Besides," she added with a sharp smile, "he has no legal right to refuse a lord's dying decree."
Her words were confident, but Roman knew the brutal reality of this world. Legal principles meant absolutely nothing when swords were drawn.
In the world of Ice and Fire, whoever commanded the largest army and the sharpest steel made the rules.
Who knew how the court at King's Landing would react? Jon Arryn, the incredibly shrewd Hand of the King, was still alive and plotting.
If it were just the boisterous King Robert, Roman might not be worried. But Jon Arryn possessed an extremely keen political mind. And Roman refused to underestimate the vicious paranoia of Cersei Lannister.
"My child, the time for the annual royal tax collection is rapidly approaching," Lady Shella announced. "You will ride to King's Landing with a contingent of our guards to deliver the silver. It is the perfect opportunity to present yourself to King Robert and gauge the court's reaction to your new status."
Roman released a heavy, resigned sigh. He knew he could not hide in the ruins forever.
"Since the die is cast, we must play the game. I will prepare for the journey."
He bowed formally to Lady Shella and left the solar. He would just have to take the political nightmare one step at a time.
When Roman arrived in the main courtyard to inspect the horses, he found Old Jessy and the castle garrison staring at him with wildly different expressions.
The rough, odd-job boy who used to eat stew with them in the mud had suddenly been elevated to Roman Rivers, a son of House Whent, and their direct commanding lord.
Old Jessy stared at Roman with a deeply conflicted expression. His wrinkled lips trembled, and his weathered face went through several rapid changes, as if he were trying to mentally process a colossal shift in reality.
Finally, the hardened veteran straightened his posture, brought a fist to his chest, and bowed respectfully.
"My lord!"
Seeing their captain bow, the rest of the armed guards immediately followed suit, their voices echoing across the courtyard.
"My lord!"
Roman looked at the rigid group of men, his eye twitching violently in sheer exasperation.
"We are just going to King's Landing to pay taxes. Why are you all acting like I am about to be crowned King of the Andals?"