[Chapter Size: 2600 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Westeros.
...
...
"Finally, we arrived in King's Landing... I've never been so happy to smell the stench this city has to offer," Robert Baratheon, the King of Westeros, remarked from atop his horse as they caught sight of King's Landing, following a month's journey since departing Winterfell.
"..." Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, rode beside him in silence. Surrounded by royal guards and Stark soldiers for protection, the man made no comment.
This city seemed to haunt Lord Stark. The slaughter wrought by the Mad King still echoed in his mind: his father and brother killed in such a cruel manner... The anger Eddard carried within him had not lessened over the years. He had never wanted to be Lord of Winterfell; that was his older brother's place. But fate has an ironic way of assigning roles.
He remembered marching into King's Landing after defeating Rhaegar Targaryen at the Trident, seeking vengeance for the injustice committed against his family. When he entered the city, it was already taken by the Lannisters. They had sacked King's Landing, supposedly in the name of the rebellion. Eddard walked through the halls of the Red Keep, horrified, until he reached the Throne Room. There, he found King Aerys dead, stabbed in the back. Jaime Lannister, the young knight of the Kingsguard, sat on the Iron Throne, his sword still stained with blood.
"Did you kill him?" Eddard had asked, his gaze cold and distrustful.
"Yes," Jaime replied without hesitation, though his tone betrayed a certain distaste. "It was necessary..."
No matter what Jaime said afterward, Eddard could never accept the knight's betrayal, though he understood the Mad King needed to be stopped. The Kingsguard was sworn to die for their king, and Eddard called Jaime the Kingslayer. The image of Aerys lying dead in such a manner never left his mind.
Even with his hatred for the Targaryens, Eddard had condemned the murderers of Elia Martell and her children. He protested, unable to accept such acts, but nothing was done to punish their killers.
The last time he had been in King's Landing was after rescuing his sister, Lyanna. She was dying, and he couldn't save her. That memory led his thoughts back to Jon, who had disappeared a month ago after Eddard found him in Winterfell.
The memory of his nephew had been a persistent source of headache in the past month. He recalled how Jon had wounded him and his wife, Catelyn, in a brutal manner. Jon had used a kind of sorcery Eddard had never imagined existed. First, there was his age, far greater than it should have been.
The things Jon did after revealing he was Lyanna's son would never be forgotten. Catelyn had been hysterical when she awoke, but she hadn't witnessed the things Eddard had endured, and he hadn't told her. After all, he'd be deemed mad.
Jon's vengeful words echoed in his mind every night. Eddard dreamed of wars that ravaged all of Westeros. He saw dragons flying through the skies, burning thousands of people.
In other visions, he saw Jon himself—a nightmare where Jon, alongside an army, fought against various houses: Tyrells, Lannisters, Arryns, Tullys. Thousands died on the battlefield. Eddard watched the chaos unfold, standing on the battlefield as men screamed at him. He looked at his banner, the Stark sigil, advancing against the enemy while his body moved on its own—all against a single foe.
There he was, facing troops amidst the chaos that engulfed all sides, as men shouted, horses fell, and a bloodbath ensued.
Ned—or whoever he was in that moment—saw a man stand out, wielding a battleaxe in one hand and a Valyrian steel sword in the other, while Jon advanced mercilessly against his enemies, cutting down anyone in his path.
He saw the Stark men advancing with fury, and he followed them. Then he witnessed countless attempts to kill Jon, but Jon moved in ways that made Eddard doubt he was even human anymore. Eddard felt the soldiers' fear as he watched Jon slaughter dozens of men. No matter how surrounded he was, Jon massacred them all.
So… he saw Jory charge at Jon, along with Ser Rodrik, and watched both of them die as their heads were severed. But what came next was even more shocking. He saw Robb advancing on Jon with Ace, but he didn't even stand a chance. Jon killed him with cold eyes, piercing through the armor where his heart was.
Ned wanted to scream, but he could do nothing but watch his son die there, feeling the soldier's fear as the other soldiers mourned Robb's death. Robb hadn't even had time to react. Jon simply continued his slaughter, and Ned was next. He tried to raise his sword, but his hand was severed. The pain was so vivid it felt real, and then Jon beheaded him. Jon seemed utterly indifferent, leaving Ned's body behind as he moved on to the next group to kill.
Eddard often had these dreams. In some, he dreamed of looking at Jon with hatred after losing his hands, only for Jon to look back at him as though he were an inferior being. Jon would then smile amusedly at Ned. Without hesitation, Jon plunged his sword into Eddard's heart.
He could never grow used to waking up every night in a cold sweat during his travels, the dreams still vivid in his mind.
"This can't be my fate..." he would say to himself, shaking his head in denial.
Jon couldn't possibly raise an army... No one would support him. There was no way he could gather enough forces to wage war on the Seven Kingdoms. Even though Jon claimed he didn't need soldiers, Eddard refused to believe such a thing was possible. Yet Jon's powers constantly haunted him, memories of how he entered Winterfell, mocked them openly, and used sorcery in his solar still fresh in his mind.
No one else could do what Jon did. He stormed a heavily armed castle, confronted the king, faced the Kingsguard after injuring the prince in such a way—it was as if he was toying with them. The subsequent trial by combat was a terrifying spectacle, with Jon killing a knight in seconds and throwing a sword over ten meters with his bare hands.
Eddard admitted to himself: he was afraid of Jon. He didn't know exactly why, but the thought tormented him constantly.
Adding to his unease, strange news began arriving from the Wall. Yet he couldn't deal with that just yet. It seemed the gods were against him as well. First, while his family was worried about Jon's whereabouts after his disappearance days earlier, his son Bran was found fallen from one of the towers, unconscious. This led Catelyn to immediately accuse Jon, claiming the bastard wanted to kill the entire family, according to her words.
But despite the anger and fear he harbored toward Jon, Ned didn't believe something like that could have happened, especially since Jon could have attacked them far more directly than by pushing a child. Still, his son wasn't the only concern during this journey—Jon wasn't his sole worry.
There was also the conflict involving his daughter and the prince. He had been forced to kill Sansa's direwolf after Nymeria had escaped with Arya's help. This made him question whether the gods were playing tricks on his life. Perhaps it was all a series of trials. He simply didn't know.
"What is it, Ned? You look terrible," Robert's voice sounded beside him, pulling him from his thoughts.
Eddard simply sighed, visibly tired, as he turned back to his friend. "Just some thoughts, Your Grace…" he murmured.
"Thinking about that bastard of yours again? I already told you, we'll find him and make him pay for all his crimes," Robert commented. "Now, come on, come on! Stop dawdling and let's keep moving!" Robert exclaimed, urging everyone forward.
The group continued toward King's Landing. Arya sat in a Stark cart with the septa and Sansa's friends, looking at the city with curiosity but little enthusiasm. After what had happened with Nymeria and Lady, she could barely express any joy for the rest of the journey. Sansa, meanwhile, was with the queen and her children, chatting. She was more animated, though still saddened by the loss of her direwolf, which her father had been forced to execute. She observed the city with fascination, trying to forget her recent loss, even though it still weighed heavily on her.
Sansa seemed enchanted to finally see the city she would one day rule. She fantasized about a life filled with handsome and courteous knights, living a dream beside her prince. Meanwhile, Queen Cersei watched the young girl with a mocking glint in her eyes, silently thinking to herself that Sansa had no idea what awaited her in this city.
The convoy continued advancing. The city's men, spotting the king's banners, began organizing a reception. Guards rushed in every direction, and the streets of King's Landing soon bustled with activity as the king and his new Hand arrived. People crowded the streets to watch the procession, with some shouting joyfully in support of the king, while others cried out for food. Complaints were swiftly silenced by city guards, who struck the boldest to prevent protests from reaching the king's ears.
The group entered the city some time later, and the people quickly gathered to greet them. As they moved deeper into the city, the city guard began accompanying them to avoid trouble from the common folk until they reached the Red Keep.
Arya immediately hated the smell of the city, wrinkling her nose as they passed through the narrow streets. Sansa, in the other royal carriage, though she also found the smell unpleasant, was captivated by the grandeur of the place, far larger than Wintertown.
"You get used to it," the queen said with a faint smile, observing Sansa's reaction.
Despite her discomfort, Sansa remained fascinated by the city, trying to align its sights with her youthful dreams.
The royal procession, with the Starks in tow, continued for nearly an hour, passing through the entire city to the sounds of the peasants' cheers, until they reached the gates of the Red Keep. There, other royal guards and the council's masters awaited the arrival of the king and his Hand. Robert, who had spent most of the journey in a carriage, now rode his horse with energy. He always insisted on riding at key moments of the journey to demonstrate his continued vigor, even if his physical form no longer matched that of a great warrior.
Upon reaching the main gate of the Red Keep, King Robert Baratheon led the procession, with Eddard Stark following close behind. Guards quickly took their positions, and the members of the Royal Council stood in formation to receive them, kneeling in the king's presence.
"Get up already. I don't want to waste time—I need a good wine and some prostitutes," Robert declared openly. His words shocked his friend, who stared at him in disbelief, but none of the council members flinched, seemingly accustomed to such remarks. Only Lord Stark appeared unsettled by the king's words.
As soon as everyone rose, the first to step forward was Varys, the Master of Whispers. Clad in his long silk robes, his face wore an enigmatic smile while his eyes observed everything keenly. He made an exaggerated bow and greeted Robert in his usual mellifluous tone:
"Welcome back, Your Grace. King's Landing is safer with your presence."
Close behind was Petyr Baelish, known as Littlefinger, the Master of Coin. His sharp smile was accompanied by an intriguing glance at Eddard before he gave a slight bow.
"Your Grace, Lord Stark, a warm welcome to the capital. I'm sure you'll find the council eager to serve you."
Grand Maester Pycelle approached slowly, his long beard swaying as he leaned on his staff. He inclined his head respectfully before speaking in his trembling voice:
"Ah, Your Grace, what a joy to see you again. And Lord Stark, it is an honor to have you among us as the Hand of the King. The gods are generous in bringing you here safely."
"Where is Stannis?" Ned couldn't help but ask, noticing the Master of Ships absent among the group. Robert offered no reply.
"It seems our brother is busier than he should be at Dragonstone..." A youthful and friendly voice followed. The next to approach was the Master of Laws, his charming smile and relaxed posture exuding confidence. He greeted Robert and Ned jovially.
"Brother! Lord Stark! It's good to see you. King's Landing has been unbearably dull without you," Renly said warmly.
Barristan Selmy stepped to the king's side, accompanying him as his personal guard and the leader of the Kingsguard, as well as a member of the council.
"Well, we'll handle formalities later. First, I want to rest, then I want a bath, and bring me wine!" Robert gestured dismissively, not even bothering to properly greet his council. While the others seemed unfazed by this, Ned clearly was.
As the rest of the royal family and the Starks began to descend from their carriages, Varys approached Robert more closely.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Your Grace… there is a matter you must attend to," he informed, causing Robert to frown.
"What now? Out with it!" he shouted immediately.
"A man exiled from Westeros has arrived in the city with a rather interesting story..." Varys said.
"What? Who? This better not be nonsense!" Robert exclaimed irritably.
Varys gestured toward a group of guards, who parted to reveal someone approaching. Robert didn't recognize the rather old man, but Ned's eyes widened in shock.
"Jorah Mormont!" he exclaimed, his tone a mix of anger and surprise. This man had been exiled from Westeros for slave trading—a serious crime. Ned himself had been personally involved in hunting him down, but Jorah had fled to Essos.
"The one you couldn't catch?" Robert recalled, his gaze now filled with suspicion.
"I believe you'll want to hear him out before passing judgment. He's here seeking pardon and may have brought something you'll find agreeable," Varys said.
"Then say what it is! Before I cut off your head!" Robert barked directly at the man.
Jorah knelt before him. "He said he saw a man with black hair and purple eyes a moon ago in Essos," Varys continued. "A curious claim, given that it matches the descriptions my little birds sang about a certain figure from Winterfell. What's strange is that this man was reportedly in Winterfell at the same time Jorah claims to have seen him in Essos... but we'll discuss that another time, Your Grace. For now, this man has brought someone as a prisoner: Viserys Targaryen, as a gift to atone for his crimes."
Both Robert and Ned looked stunned at first, their faces grimacing in disbelief. They had recently discussed the marriage of Daenerys Targaryen to a Dothraki khal and Robert's fears of a potential war with the Targaryens raising an army of desert savages in Essos. However, they were clearly unaware of recent developments.
"Is this true? You brought me a dragon spawn?!" Robert raised his voice, drawing the attention of those nearby who hadn't yet been listening. They began to glance toward him, wondering what was happening.
"Yes, Your Grace. I've brought Viserys Targaryen to deliver him to you," Jorah said, still kneeling before the king.
-------------Nexts Chapters ----------------
Chapter 76 - Departing for King's Landing.
Chapter 81 - The Dragonborn's revenge will begin.
Chapter 91 - The trial of Lord Stark 01.
Chapter 100 - Cleaning out the Tully vaults.
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