King's Landing—the place where kings came ashore.
As the royal capital of the Seven Kingdoms, the heart of the Iron Throne's power, it stood on the eastern coast of Westeros, overlooking Blackwater Bay.
More than three hundred years ago, Aegon Targaryen the Conqueror had landed here with three dragons, beginning his road to the conquest of the Seven Kingdoms.
The high ground before them had once been covered in forest. Only a scattering of fishermen had settled on the north bank of the Blackwater Rush, where the swift current flowed into the deep sea.
With Aegon the Conqueror's arrival, he ordered the first defensive fortress to be built from wood and earth atop the highest hill.
The little fishing village of three hundred years ago had now become a great city of half a million souls.
And now, as far as Domeric's eyes could see, everything had become bustling districts, mansions, pavilions, granaries, timber inns, market stalls, taverns, graveyards, and brothels, one after another.
Even from this distance, Domeric could still hear the clamor of the markets.
Broad tree-lined avenues, twisting streets, and narrow alleys barely wide enough for two people to walk shoulder to shoulder…
The marble walls of the Great Sept of Baelor crowned Visenya's Hill, seven crystal towers rising high into the sky.
On the far side, upon Rhaenys's Hill, stood the scorched ruins of the Dragonpit, the collapsed remains of its vast dome, and the bronze doors that had been sealed for a century.
"Ser Domeric, look! That's the Red Keep!"
Sansa sat on horseback, waving her little hand excitedly, unable to contain her joy.
This was one of the most magnificent structures in all Westeros. Domeric had once only seen it described in books.
Now that he saw it with his own eyes, it inevitably filled him with a kind of awe that was difficult to put into words.
It had seven immense drum towers protected by iron fortifications, a great and coldly imposing keep, domed halls and covered bridges, barracks, dungeons, and thick walls bristling with arrow slits—all built from red stone.
Legend said that Aegon the Conqueror had ordered the castle built, and that his son Maegor the Cruel had completed it. After its construction, he had all the masons, carpenters, and architects who worked on it beheaded, swearing that only the blood of the dragon would know the secrets of the dragonkings' fortress…
And yet now, the banners flying from its walls were gold rather than black.
The place where the three-headed dragon had once breathed furious flame had now become the realm of House Baratheon's crowned stag.
"Taking that castle won't be easy."
Domeric could not help simulating it in his mind, and finally sighed.
But that did not matter.
To him, even the strongest castle was useless, because castles were most often conquered from within.
"Ser Domeric, what did you just say? I didn't hear you." Sansa leaned closer, thinking Domeric had been speaking to her.
"Nothing. I said this castle is too beautiful. It stirs the heart, just like you, Sansa."
"Honestly…"
Sansa gave a shy little hum. "Ser Domeric, please don't say strange things like that."
Her voice grew quieter and quieter, as soft as a mosquito's buzz.
"I'll take them seriously."
…
Domeric followed Lord Eddard into the Red Keep at once and settled in the Tower of the Hand.
The Tower of the Hand was the residence of the Hand of the King. It had two levels, enough to house over a hundred people.
Lord Eddard valued this future son-in-law greatly and assigned Domeric a spacious set of rooms with windows.
After a month on the road, they could finally stop and rest.
He had not noticed it much before, but now that the journey was over, Domeric felt a wave of exhaustion. He desperately wanted a hot bath, then perhaps a roast duck or something of the sort.
Servants had already cleaned the dust from the room. The furniture, made from catalpa wood, was luxurious yet tasteful. A broad feather bed was covered with soft silk bedding.
There was also a bathing room off to one side of the chamber, where servants had already prepared hot water for the guests who had come from afar.
What attentive service.
As expected of the greatest city in Westeros.
Domeric quickly stripped off his sour-smelling clothes and sank himself into the bathtub.
Wrapped in warm water, he let out a comfortable sigh despite himself. The exhaustion of the long journey vanished at once.
Domeric lay in the tub like that, doing nothing, staring blankly at the decoration hanging on the opposite wall.
But his mind was already thinking about the plans to come.
Things had deviated somewhat from the original plot.
Three days ago, Domeric had captured Sandor Clegane, the Hound, before Ser Barristan of the Kingsguard could.
After a round of interrogation, he had finally pried the truth of the Darry Castle murder case from the Hound's mouth.
On the night of the feast, Joffrey, that "eternal emperor," had gotten drunk and taken a wicked interest in Lady Darry. Seizing the chance, he had brutally raped and murdered her, then framed his own uncle—Tyrion, the Imp.
His mother, Queen Cersei, had chosen to protect her son.
For a moment, Domeric could not quite understand it.
Was infighting a Lannister family tradition?
Why did Joffrey despise his own uncle so much?
Or was it that on the night of the Darry Castle murder, after Joffrey killed her, he had been in such a rush that he could not find a proper scapegoat, and so he fixed on the most suspicious person available: the Imp?
After all, Tyrion was an ugly dwarf already known as "the Imp." If he were accused of murdering Lady Darry, it would seem all the more natural…
Sandor Clegane was now in Domeric's hands.
Domeric had every opportunity to use him to accuse Joffrey as the true murderer of Lady Darry.
But would that actually be useful?
Leaving aside whether the Hound's testimony would be accepted, even if it was, would King Robert punish his own eldest son for it?
Not necessarily.
Forget murdering the wife of a knight—even if Joffrey slaughtered all of Darry Castle, so what?
Westeros was no society ruled by law.
Here, the dark law of the jungle prevailed.
Justice did not lie in people's hearts. Right and wrong depended on strength.
Fairness and justice solved nothing.
Only fists could bring truth.
…
Now, following Renly Baratheon's suggestion, Tyrion had been brought back to King's Landing for public trial. This undoubtedly worsened the conflict between the wolf and the lion.
Would Lord Eddard use this to point the spear directly at House Lannister?
Would Tywin Lannister use it as an excuse to start the war early?
Where would the situation in King's Landing go from here?
Judging from the information Domeric had so far, the situation in King's Landing seemed even more dangerous than in the original plot.
Sure enough, no amount of planning could prevent accidents from happening.
After soaking in the hot water for several minutes, Domeric heard the door open.
He assumed it was a servant coming to add hot water, so he kept his eyes closed and did not pay it much mind.
Only when he smelled that distinctive fragrance of a young girl did Domeric realize something was wrong.
He turned his head to look.
And then he saw Sansa standing behind him, graceful and lovely.
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GAME OF THRONES: SECRETS BENEATH THE DREADFORT
🏰🩸 GAME OF THRONES: SECRETS BENEATH THE DREADFORT 🩸🏰
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📢 DARK SECRETS RISE IN THE NORTH! 📢
Game of Thrones: Secrets Beneath the Dreadfort has 30 chapters ahead available on Patreon! 🐺🩸
Beneath the Dreadfort, old horrors stir.
Power, bloodlines, betrayal, northern cruelty, and buried secrets wait beneath one of the most feared castles in Westeros.
❄️ The North remembers.🏰 The Dreadfort hides.🩸 And some secrets should have stayed buried.
Uncover what lies beneath before anyone else does.
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