Viserys, kneeling before the statues of the Seven, could no longer hold on.
The silver-haired boy's body temperature had risen to a terrifying degree. His fair skin was flushed, as if a furnace burned within him.
His mother, Queen Rhaella, finally noticed her son's condition.
"Viserys!"
"What's wrong?"
But the world swam, and his mind was blank. The boy saw only his mother's figure, kneeling down, her face etched with worry.
Then, his body went limp, and he fainted, his burning red cheek pressed against the cold floor.
"Maester!"
The newly crowned young king had actually fainted, and the sept of Dragonstone was thrown into chaos.
And compared to the small matter of the Targaryen remnants who had fled to Dragonstone fainting.
Meanwhile.
In distant King's Landing.
The all-powerful Tywin Lannister was beside himself with rage; this was the truly significant event.
No one would have expected, nor could they imagine, that the calculating and ruthless Duke Tywin would ever lose his composure like this.
Crash
The Lannister knights knelt, requesting the Duke to calm his fury.
They hadn't forgotten the song of "The Rains of Castamere" that echoed over the ruins of the Hall of Tarbeck, nor the blood-soaked land where the entire family, regardless of age or gender, had been slaughtered.
The Lannister soldiers who had managed to escape were now bound to wooden stakes, awaiting the enraged Duke of Casterly Rock to flay and dismember them.
The reason for Tywin Lannister's fury was, of course, simple: the forces he had secretly dispatched to hunt down Queen Rhaella and her infant son, Viserys, had been almost entirely wiped out, save for these few who had managed to return.
Due to the lag in information, this terrible news arrived too late.
And Tywin's brother, Kevan Lannister, his most trusted right-hand man, had also been found dead days later and brought back to King's Landing.
Kevan Lannister's death was extremely gruesome; aside from the Duke himself, no one else could bear to look at the body.
The women, who had never witnessed such a bloody scene, ran to the corner and vomited until they were utterly exhausted.
Kevan's fatal wound was in his chest, a sword thrust directly through his torso from behind.
Then, the enemy seemed to fear Kevan wasn't dead and tried to sever his head, but for some reason, perhaps exhaustion, the sword became stuck halfway through.
So, Kevan's corpse had its head hanging half off, and was transported back by wagon. The sight was gruesome. The body already stank, crawling with maggots. Even with the help of the monks to prepare the body, they could only barely sew up the wound on his neck, unable to mask the foul stench.
At this moment.
The tall, slender Duke of Casterly Rock, his pale green eyes bloodshot, and his thick, golden sideburns trembling slightly.
He couldn't imagine his own brother dying in battle like this, casting a shadow over the feast of victory they were about to enjoy.
He even felt a subtle sense of panic.
This had been a celebration, a frenzy of dividing the Targaryens. The Lannisters had entered the fray last, but they had struck the hardest blow.
Everyone knew that if the Targaryens weren't completely wiped out, they would forever be a time bomb.
These people with "true dragon blood" would eventually make them pay for their blood debts.
Everything had been going smoothly. Then, just as Tywin was about to perfectly reap the fruits of victory, Kevan suddenly died, which was bound to cast a shadow over Tywin's conscience, given what he had done.
His old friend, Aerys's corpse, lay before the Iron Throne.
The massacre of King's Landing. The Lannister army, with his tacit approval, wantonly burned, killed, and plundered, all under the banner of the "new king."
He personally wrapped Rhaella's wife, Elia, and Aegon's corpses in golden-red Lannister cloaks, presenting them to Robert Baratheon as a sign of loyalty.
These scenes, stained with blood, constantly flashed through his mind.
Blood debts must be paid.
Or was it karma?
However, Tywin Lannister's back remained straight throughout, a perpetual shadow clouding his cold, merciless face.
He wouldn't let the subtle unease he felt inside show to the lords who followed him. He was still the Duke of Casterly Rock, the one who held absolute authority.
Then.
BANG!
The middle-aged man, clad in a red robe embroidered with a vibrant golden lion, seemed finally unable to control his emotions.
Without warning, he kicked over the table in front of him, sending its contents scattering across the floor.
"Targaryen!"
Then, he drew the longsword from his waist and began to wildly slash at everything in the room.
If his wife, Joanna Lannister's, death years ago had taken the last vestiges of warmth from Tywin, then the death of his own brother, Kevan Lannister, had taken his composure.
The enraged Duke Tywin seemed beside himself with fury.
He hated the Targaryen family with a deep passion, otherwise, he wouldn't have been so ruthless this time, almost completely wiping out all the dragonspawn.
Years ago.
During his wedding to Joanna, the drunken Aerys Targaryen's actions towards his wife had always been buried deep within him.
After that incident, Tywin sent his wife away from King's Landing, back to Casterly Rock, and he and Aerys, once comrades-in-arms in the War of the Ninepenny Kings, officially broke off their friendship.
Now, Tywin's rage was such that all the knights and bannermen of the Lannister family who had come along this time were trembling with fear.
Only Gregor Clegane, known as 'The Mountain', remained standing in place with his arms crossed, arrogant and proud in his attitude, seemingly unafraid of Duke Tywin's fury.
And regardless of how furious Tywin Lannister was, in the end, he didn't take his anger out on anyone else.
He personally executed all the deserters and ordered the specifics of Kevan's death to be concealed. A grand funeral was held for his brother Kevan, with the cause of death listed as "accidental fall from a horse."
He promised his brother's corpse that he would avenge him, eradicating the remaining Targaryens.
However... The truth couldn't be hidden forever.
King's Landing, which had just been washed by blood and fire, seemed to have briefly lost its stench of urine, only to be enveloped by a stench of blood and rot.
In a narrow alley barely wide enough for two people to pass through, nearly every household hung white cloth.
The night was deep.
The City Watch had just finished their patrol.
And at this moment.
Clang!
A round Silver Stag fell to the ground, making a crisp sound.
A moment later.
A small figure darted out from the darkness, looked left and right, and seeing that no one was paying attention.
Then, it quickly picked up the Silver Stag on the ground and stuffed it into its embrace, disappearing into the darkness once more.
....
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