The Golden-Haired Maiden (End)

Kevan stood outside the door without going in. Before long, the guests began filing out one after another... They seemed to be in exceptionally good spirits. Some walked while staring at the Gold Dragons in their hands, muttering in disbelief, "The Gods be praised."

A servant came to Kevan's side and said respectfully, "My lord, you may go in now."

Count Kevan slowly raised his eyes toward the dark clouds that looked ready to unleash a torrential downpour at any moment, and his thoughts drifted uncontrollably. If only... Aerys II had agreed to marry his niece to Prince Rhaegar back then, perhaps that brutal war would never have broken out. Because Cersei would have borne Rhaegar the son he wanted—a little lion with a silver mane and purple eyes... Lyanna Stark did indeed possess a wild sort of beauty, but... no matter how brightly a torch burned, it could never compare to the vibrant Light of the West. That girl from the North... Prince Rhaegar likely would not have given her a second glance.

Then Jaime and Cersei would not have done something so utterly absurd, either.

He gave a slight shake of his head. Perhaps Tywin's passing without ever learning the truth had also been a mercy from The Gods.

Drawing back his thoughts, Count Kevan sighed inwardly and stepped into the tavern. He knew full well that this was nothing more than the impractical fantasy of an old man reminiscing about the past.

Prince Rhaegar had wed Princess Elia of Dorne, Lyanna Stark had died, and Cersei had married Robert Baratheon. That was the true history.

Not long after Count Kevan sat down in the tavern, thud, thud, thud... the blonde girl who had cleaned his room came running down the wooden stairs again.

A while later, hurried