Chapitre 382: Chapter 382: Orphaned
After his duel with Robert, Connington led 20,000 troops to besiege King's Landing alongside Doran. Through his remaining contacts with Varys, he hoped to use the spymaster to gain a critical advantage once the siege began. The goal was simple: to squeeze out the last bit of value from Varys's network.
Meanwhile, Viserys prepared to march on the Westerlands with the army of Highgarden. His first stop was Harrenhal, where he needed to eliminate the final obstacle before launching his assault on the Westerlands—Riverrun. He stayed at Harrenhal for two days, organizing logistics and gathering intelligence. It was there that he made a few unsettling discoveries: Cersei's corpse, and Selyse Baratheon hiding with her daughter.
When Viserys informed Selyse that Stannis had been killed in battle, she wept bitterly. He felt no sympathy for her. His thoughts lingered on the memory of Queen Rhaella's terror during the War of the Usurper, her tragic death in childbirth, and the pain that had seared itself into his bloodline, even though his soul had since changed. That pain was always with him.
One of the main reasons he had Stannis executed was because of Melisandre. Although he had no idea where the Red Woman had disappeared to, with Stannis dead, her power to oppose him was greatly diminished.
At Harrenhal, Viserys also learned of the infamous "The Dragons Assassins." For House Targaryen, House Darry was little more than a "family of martyrs." Rhaegar's four brothers had perished with him at the Battle of the Trident, and Lord Raymun Darry himself had died in an assassination attempt on Robert's life. And Ser Willem? Viserys owed him everything—without his intervention, Viserys and Daenerys might have been handed over to Robert's men at Dragonstone or killed outright. Now, House Darry had dwindled to a single surviving member: eleven-year-old Lyman Darry.
Viserys felt an obligation to protect this boy. Not only would he ensure Lyman lived to adulthood, but he also intended to find him a beautiful and fertile wife, so that House Darry could be restored. In addition to Lyman, other orphans of the houses that had joined Raymun in the assassination attempt were brought before Viserys for judgment.
"Your Grace… Your Grace, I am Lyman Darry, son of Lord Raymun Darry of Darry," the boy said shakily.
Lyman had been cleaned and dressed before being presented to Viserys. His clothes were neat, and he looked well enough on the surface, but his red, puffy eyes and pale face betrayed his exhaustion. The weight of sudden orphanhood had taken its toll on him.
Daenerys, seated beside Viserys, couldn't help but be moved by the sight. As she looked at the young boy standing before them, wearing clothes embroidered with a farmer holding a rake—the sigil of House Darry—her heart ached. She blinked, but the tears came anyway, her violet eyes brimming with emotion.
Her sorrow mirrored the boy's grief, and for a moment, she was unable to hold back her tears.
"He... he really looks like Willem," Daenerys whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Though Lyman was only eleven or twelve, his resemblance to Ser Willem Darry, the man who had protected both her and Viserys in their darkest days, was unmistakable. The similarity was most striking in their mouths, which were nearly identical. Ser Willem had been a stern figure to everyone else, but with Dany, he had always spoken softly. Before her "Brother" had changed his ways, Ser Willem was one of the few who had treated her with kindness.
Viserys gently stroked Daenerys's back, comforting her as she stared at the boy. Then, he called Lyman forward, addressing the gathered military officers and nobles.
"Lyman Darry, from this day forward, you shall serve as Cupbearer to Princess Daenerys until she comes of age. You will be treated with the respect and dignity of a prince."
The young boy, still dazed by grief, didn't fully understand what this meant. It was only after being nudged by those around him that he knelt before Viserys. His father's death hung heavily on him; no title or honor could ease that pain right now. Even if Viserys had made him a lord in that moment, it would have brought no joy.
It was all for appearances.
Despite Robert's capture and Stannis's execution, the war was far from over. The battle for the Westerlands still loomed, and beyond that, the threat of the White Walkers remained. There would be no resting on laurels anytime soon. This meeting with Lyman was one of the few tender moments in the aftermath of the brutal fighting—a brief flicker of warmth in an otherwise cold and relentless war.
But the peace was short-lived, as it was soon disrupted by an unwelcome arrival.
Word had reached Littlefinger that Viserys had defeated Robert and seized Harrenhal, and he wasted no time riding there, eager to present himself before the new ruler. His arrival posed a difficult dilemma for Viserys.
On the one hand, Petyr Baelish was undeniably unscrupulous, a man of questionable loyalties and a reputation as a manipulator. Viserys loathed the idea of keeping him alive. But on the other hand, Littlefinger had successfully kept the Vale from joining the war, preventing them from sending troops to interfere with Viserys's campaign. That alone had saved countless lives and resources.
Reluctantly, Viserys considered the situation as he looked at the tall, thin man standing before him. Littlefinger had rendered valuable service, and by the rules of war, he deserved a reward. But Viserys would never grant him real power. No, he'd find some way to acknowledge his contribution—without allowing him to become a threat.
'Perhaps I can use him as a reminder,' Viserys thought, 'to always stay vigilant. A tool to spur me forward, but never to be trusted.'
After all, Viserys thought, he won't outlive me. With his decision made, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. His expression softened into something more pleasant as he turned to Littlefinger and asked, "Ser Petyr, I'm curious—how did you convince Lady Lysa to support you?"
To Viserys's surprise, Petyr answered without hesitation, openly boasting of his affair with Lysa. In Littlefinger's eyes, it was almost as if he were avenging the Targaryens. I helped you humiliate the leader of the rebellion, his smirk seemed to say. That's quite the tale, isn't it?
"So, Robert the Younger... is he your son by Lysa?" Viserys asked, leaning forward.
Littlefinger's demeanor shifted, but he answered smoothly, "Your Grace, Robert the Younger is indeed Jon Arryn's son."
Viserys nodded, remembering how, in another time, Lysa had been Littlefinger's pawn—both a means to stir chaos and a stepping stone to further his ambitions. Young Robert's identity had been a key part of that.
"In that case, Ser Petyr," Viserys continued, "I have a task for you."
"It is my honor to serve you, Your Grace," Littlefinger replied with his signature bow.
"I want every Arryn name in the Vale sent to the Wall. I'll provide you with the necessary support. And if there's any resistance," Viserys's voice darkened, "I'll bring the dragons myself."
Littlefinger's shoulders visibly relaxed, reassured by the fact that Viserys was now beginning to use him as a tool. "Your Grace, rest assured—in three months, there will not be a single Arryn left in the Vale."
"Good. Now, go about your business. I need to see the Red Witch."
The mention of Melisandre seemed to send a ripple of unease through Littlefinger, as though the very thought of her unsettled him. He felt as if the Red Woman had somehow reached into his chest and taken hold of his heart.
Viserys, noticing the shift in his expression, smiled inwardly. If controlling him requires using her influence, so be it... he thought. Perhaps that's exactly how I'll secure his loyalty.
...
After his meeting with Littlefinger, Viserys made his way to the chamber where Melisandre was being held. The Red Priestess sat in the corner, facing the wall, her posture calm and composed. Her robes, as always, were pristine, despite her captivity. Even now, she seemed to hold sway over Littlefinger—Viserys suspected she had allowed herself to be brought to Harrenhal with his aid.
Sensing his presence, Melisandre spoke without turning. "Do you know what you've done?" Her voice was low and filled with foreboding. "You killed Stannis. And with his death, the world is ending."
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