Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 392: Return to the Old Capital

The deaths of Robert and Tywin had come to symbolize the complete end of an era.

After the executions, Viserys led the army and a group of nobles first to the vicinity of Harrenhal by boat, then southward along the Kingsroad to King's Landing.

Sansa felt a wave of discomfort on this road, haunted by memories she would rather forget. This is where I lost Lady, she thought. Now, with several children in the House, she felt her loss even more keenly. Her younger sister Lyanna, born only recently, had no wolf, either. How could she ever understand what it's like to lose something she never had? And her last journey to King’s Landing… it had been nothing short of a nightmare. She had arrived full of hope, dreaming of her marriage to the Prince, only to endure a series of horrors that included two periods of house arrest. And Joffrey, she recalled bitterly. He wasn’t even a Prince—just a bastard, like Jon.

Meanwhile, Arya held onto a slim hope that she might find her lost wolf along the way, though the sheer number of people and the presence of dragons nearby kept not only wolves but even sparrows at bay. The road, usually alive with birds, was now hauntingly quiet.

Jon had been brought from the Wall by Viserys and now traveled with the group to King’s Landing, faced with an important choice. The journey intrigued him; growing up in Winterfell, and later at the Wall, he had known nothing but endless forests and snow-covered fields. Eight out of ten times, even when I took a piss, it was in the snow. Once they crossed the Neck, though, a whole new world unfolded before him—shrubland, wildflowers, fields, villages. The vivid colors of the South fascinated him.

At the same time, he found himself constantly wondering why Viserys had summoned him. Before he had left for the Wall, Ned had promised to tell him about his mother the next time they met. I wonder if I'll get the chance this time, he thought, glancing around at the nobles who, like him, were likely wondering about their future.

...

Now, with the Targaryens firmly in control, the great houses of Westeros lay broken. The Lannisters, Baratheons, Arryns, and Tullys had lost much of their power, while the remaining Tyrells and Martells had all but abandoned their ambitions. The safest move is to lie low, Mace Tyrell had reasoned upon learning that Margaery had returned to King's Landing, as he prepared to meet his daughter once again. Doran Martell, too, saw the need for prudence. He hoped to find a suitable husband for Arianne.

“Garlan seems like a good choice,” suggested Manfrey to the Red Viper. “Should we approach the Tyrells for an alliance?”

“It would be best not to,” Doran countered quickly. He sensed that Viserys strongly opposed marriages between the great houses. Better for the Starks, Martells, and Tyrells to marry their bannermen. Even fostering sons between noble families would soon be forbidden. Viserys’s war for the throne had only recently ended, yet rumors had already reached them of how he had marched to take Casterly Rock without so much as a word to anyone. The best move now is patience and to secure a match with the next generation of House Targaryen.

Throughout the journey, Viserys had little interaction with the nobles. He and Daenerys spent most of their time inspecting villages and towns along the way by dragonback, surveying the damage the war had left behind. Many farms had been abandoned, overgrown with weeds.

“Now that the temperatures are dropping, those days of reaping three or even four crops a year are gone,” Viserys remarked, surveying the barren fields.

“And there aren’t many crops left that can withstand this cold,” Dany replied with a hint of worry. “Potatoes seem to be the only option in many places now.”

“Potatoes are high-yielding, so potatoes it is,” Viserys responded, already imagining the days ahead. When the long night comes, even a single potato might be a delicacy.

He wasn’t sure what could have caused the long night. Could the planet’s axis of rotation have shifted, expanding the polar day and night? If that were the case, then perhaps humankind's hope lay in the southern continent of Sothoryos. But if it’s something else… then what? He couldn’t think of how they’d survive it. After all, to bring about a true long night, they’d have to endure extended periods without sunlight. And without sunlight, there would be no warmth, no life. What unimaginable force could blot out an entire star?

...

Viserys soon arrived at King’s Landing with his army and the gathered nobles. For the first time in fifteen years, the Targaryen banner flew over the capital. Connington had prepared the city ahead of their arrival, ordering the alchemists' guild to clear out all the wildfire hidden around King’s Landing. Even Varys, who seemed to be in a strange trance, handed over maps of the secret passageways in the Red Keep. To Viserys's surprise, there were tunnels and passages hidden in nearly every room of Maegor’s Holdfast. Generations of Targaryen kings… spied on during their most intimate moments, he thought with disgust. Without hesitation, he ordered the sealing of every hidden tunnel before they entered the city.

Many in King’s Landing still remembered Tywin’s sacking of the city when he marched with the army of the Westerlands. The sight of Viserys’s forces—a sizable contingent of Unsullied—rekindled old fears, especially with their severe demeanor and silent discipline. Yet, as large quantities of food were distributed, the mood shifted, and people began to welcome the Targaryens with open arms. King’s Landing had become a city loyal to the Targaryens once again.

“Let’s go in,” Viserys said to Daenerys.

“Hmm,” Dany nodded, smoothing her clothes as she glanced nervously ahead. This was the city she had heard of only in tales, the city she had dreamed of all her life. Yet, she felt an unshakable tension as they neared its gates. She and Viserys had been through so much together—from Braavos, where they had lived with Ser Willem, to their campaigns in Tyrosh and the sacking of Qarth. Still, this city—King’s Landing—stirred something in her heart. It feels different.

Dany rode a white horse, Viserys a black one, as they approached the Dragon Gate with the lords of Westeros and over 10,000 handpicked soldiers. King’s Landing had seven gates, but they chose the Dragon Gate, with its imposing relief of Balerion the Black Dread. His open wings spanned wider than the gateway itself, and beside him were carvings of Vhagar and Meraxes. Through the gate, they could see crowds gathered to welcome them. Word had spread that with the arrival of the new king and the princess, each family would receive twenty catties of grain.

Among the crowd, some truly welcomed the Targaryens. Many older residents remembered that life had been kinder under Aerys, even with his eccentricities. Aerys’s reign had its share of troubles, but he had kept a tight hold on the nobles and refrained from burdening the common folk with endless construction projects. In the last years of his life, he’d become reclusive, staying hidden away due to his paranoia. Robert’s rule, in contrast, had drained the city. He threw tournaments frequently, and while they brought excitement, they also invited chaos. Thieves, assassins, and robbers poured into the city each time, leaving the smallfolk to suffer under increased taxes and insecurity. In many ways, life under Robert had been a trial.

Now, the people looked with hope at Viserys, whose reputation for wisdom and bravery had already spread across Westeros. Stories of his welfare granary initiative, aimed at providing food security for the smallfolk, had only heightened their respect for him. The Targaryens' return promised a better future.

An elderly man spoke up: “We may have lost Prince Rhaegar, but we still have Prince Viserys, and our lives will definitely get better!” He looked at Viserys, his smile revealing the few remaining yellow teeth in his mouth.

“Old Dacky, it's time to call him Emperor Viserys!” someone added.

“Yes! Viserys the Third.”

“No! Emperor Viserys the First!” another corrected.

The common people watched as Viserys and Dany drew closer, their silver hair glistening in the sunlight. The black dragon cloaks they wore had been redesigned by Viserys, and when the wind blew, the outer fabric made them appear both elegant and imposing. Though the streets lacked the lavish decorations of old Targaryen processions, they had been repaired and cleaned. People on both sides of the road eagerly awaited the Targaryens' return, welcoming them with hopeful faces.

High above, dragons hovered over King’s Landing, instilling a sense of awe—and a measure of fear—among those who might harbor ambitions.

Viserys and Dany waved at the crowd, their smiles radiant. After nearly an hour of riding, they arrived at the central square. From there, they gazed eastward at the Red Keep, etched forever in their memories.

The common people of King’s Landing, along with the middle class behind them, kept their distance, watching with anticipation as Viserys and Dany walked toward the Great Sept of Baelor. Seven new statues of the Seven Gods stood there, a tribute that had not gone unnoticed.

“Seven Gods, protect our emperor!” A cry went up from some of the sincere believers, hearts swelling with a renewed sense of hope. The Seven had long been revered and feared, and now their blessing seemed to extend to the Targaryens. The crowd murmured about the recent gifts bestowed upon Viserys and Dany, whispers of "Long live the light of the Seven!" and "Long live the blessings of the Seven!" weaving through the gathering.

The followers of the Seven accompanied Viserys to the Great Sept of Baelor. Inside, Grand Maester Pycelle stood ready to welcome them. He was no longer clad in the shabby attire of the past; his modest but dignified robes lent him a presence more akin to that of a holy man than the former High Septon.

He bowed to Viserys, who nodded in return.

"Your Grace."

He bowed to Viserys, who nodded in return. acknowledging him. As planned, after this ceremony, Pycelle would take some  grain, along with a large contingent of scribes and soldiers, to revise and make a census.

Until now, he hadn't even known how many people lived in Westeros—a fact he found truly outrageous. Revising the census and land records would require an immense amount of time and manpower.

Viserys entered the Hall of the Light within the sept. With ample supplies, the space had been entirely renovated. For example, the glass orbs hanging from the ceiling—Connington had sourced high-quality glass from Volantis, and the hall now looked even more magnificent than before. It was breathtaking.

The nobles following Viserys took in the scene as much as they could. Devout believers, like Catelyn, chanted the names of the Seven as they walked, their reverence unmistakable. Meanwhile, others like Regis, indifferent to the Seven Gods, began to consider getting similar decorations for their own homes.

Further inside lay the sanctuary's main body. The brand-new statues of the Seven had been restored. Each figure—the stern Smith, the angry Warrior, the merciful Mother, the majestic Father—stood with a dome made of precious materials crowning its head. Gold, crystal, and glass shone atop the statues. Originally, Robert had plundered not only the statues but also other valuable objects from the temple to fund his army. Viserys had to fill the gap from his own coffers, but fortunately, the spoils from Casterly Rock more than made up for it.

Viserys and Dany stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the statues when suddenly, the bells overhead began to ring.

Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong...

The chimes echoed, filling the air with their somber and rhythmic toll, reverberating throughout the hall. Hundreds of people from across the Seven Kingdoms—those who stood at the top of Westeros's power structure—were gathered here. Together with Viserys and Dany, they represented the peak of the world’s might.

"May he reign for a long time in peace and prosperity," the voices of the crowd rang through the holy hall.

...

After leaving the Great Sept, the crowd made their way to the Red Keep. By this time, the Keep had been thoroughly secured, with no concerns for safety. Along the steps leading up to Aegon’s High Hill, an Unsullied stood guard every meter.

When Viserys and the nobles reached the drawbridge of the Red Keep, sixteen giants took their positions. For many, this was the first time they had ever seen a giant, and fear was inevitable. Sansa, for instance, subconsciously leaned closer to Jon, forgetting for a moment that he was her often-dismissed, bastard brother.

As they crossed the drawbridge and entered the square, rows of black-armored knights lined either side. They were Viserys’s Dragon Knights, their discipline and loyalty evident. Eustace, the leader of the knights, held his head high, practically pushing his chest up to the sky in pride.

"Long live Your Grace, the Emperor!" they shouted in unison.

Viserys was about to enter the Throne Hall, ascend the Iron Throne, and begin his first court meeting.