Capítulo 50: Chapter 49: Blood and Fire
The sounds of battle roared outside.
Steady footsteps echoed through the corridor.
The flames flickered on the dragon claw torches lining the walls as Viserys walked among them, the clamor outside growing closer. Despite his outward appearance, he couldn't help but feel a chill in his heart.
He had thought that the rebellion would be a minor incident, a small act of defiance by Ser Sand and a few soldiers, easily quelled without much effort. However, Viserys hadn't anticipated it would grow to such a scale. It seemed there were far more soldiers within Dragonstone harboring rebellious intentions than he had imagined.
He and his mother had been living in danger all along.
Who knew how many eyes filled with malice had been watching the mother and son from the shadows, waiting for a chance to kill them and claim the bounty on their heads?
Even now, the thought sent shivers down Viserys's spine, and his heart raced.
Indeed, the Targaryen's grip on power had slipped, and now it was House Baratheon who sat on the Iron Throne.
What guarantee was there that these guards would remain loyal to House Targaryen, without any hint of wavering?
As he pondered this, Viserys's grip on the crossbow tightened. But this time, it would all come to an end.
"All these hidden traitors will be drawn out and eliminated in one sweep."
The silver-haired boy exhaled a shaky breath, realizing that his palm gripping the crossbow was damp with cold sweat.
He wasn't as composed as he pretended to be. He was afraid, terrified of what might happen, of dying. But he had improved since the days when he couldn't even fake courage.
Two guards escorted Viserys through the corridors of the Drum Tower.
They ascended the stone steps to the highest level of the main keep, where a grand table displaying a map of the entire continent of Westeros was located.
"Your Grace."
"Your Grace."
Two guards standing watch outside the map room saluted Viserys, their fists clenched over their hearts. Viserys merely nodded at them, acknowledging their loyalty to House Targaryen.
The guards then pushed open the heavy oak doors to the map room.
With a creak, Viserys and the soldiers entered.
They bolted the door from the inside, then barricaded it with overturned furniture to prevent any surprise attacks from traitors.
Once inside the map room, Viserys headed straight for the central seat, once occupied by his mother, Queen Rhaella. Long ago, it had been the seat of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, Visenya and Rhaenys, their three dragons surveying Westeros with ambitious gazes.
Now, Viserys took his place there.
He, the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms… a long list of titles that ended with Viserys Targaryen III.
The silver-haired boy sat on the heavy chair, but he didn't feel its cold hardness. Queen Rhaella, pregnant at the time, couldn't sit on something so chilly, so the seat had been lined with luxurious, soft animal furs.
Viserys's hands rested on the armrests as he looked down at the massive map table, an intricately carved and detailed representation of the continent of Westeros. The table was over fifty feet long and half as wide at its broadest point, narrowing to less than four feet at its slimmest.
And there, at the spot on the map corresponding to Dragonstone, Viserys sat.
Nearly three hundred years ago, the designers, through careful consideration, ensured that this throne's position overlooked the entire continent of Westeros.
King's Landing, Harrenhal, Riverrun, the Eyrie, Casterly Rock...
Viserys' gaze began at Dragonstone, and constantly jumped between these major cities on the continent of Westeros. At the request of the old maester, he had previously read about Aegon the Conqueror's war history.
These were the very routes Aegon the Conqueror took to conquer Westeros.
At the Battle of the Blackwater, three dragons joined the fight, their fiery breath burning the grasslands. The fires frightened the horses and the smoke obscured the soldiers' vision, making it impossible for them to see their enemies.
This battle directly led to the collapse of the combined armies of King Loren Lannister of the Rock and King Mern Gardener IX of the Reach, with nearly 55,000 soldiers.
As Viserys immersed himself in history, a vague illusion appeared before his eyes, as if witnessing the epic battle himself.
The noise outside the council chamber awakened him.
"Kill the dragonspawn!"
"Kill the Mad King's son!"
The council chamber's heavy wooden door was blocked by toppled cabinets and heavy objects, but the cries for blood seemed to be just outside.
Clang, clang, clang—
Everywhere were sounds of weapons clashing, battle cries, and blades slicing into flesh, accompanied by the screams of wounded soldiers.
It seemed that the last two guards stationed outside the council chamber had already begun to fight the rebels.
Bang!
Another heavy thud hit the door, as if a soldier collided with it in the midst of the struggle. The thick wooden door quivered slightly, but the heavy objects behind it prevented the door from being forced open.
Viserys suddenly came to his senses.
Silver-gold hair hung over the boy's pale cheeks, his elbow resting on the arm of the throne, his palm supporting his face. He then lifted his head slightly.
Awakened by the nearby battle cries, his face turned a bit pale, and fear began to show in his previously calm, lilac eyes.
The boy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.
"The enemy... is at the door."
"My lords."
Viserys remained seated on the throne but straightened his thin body slightly.
He wanted to say something inspiring.
In truth, Viserys was now trapped, with the council chamber's throne leading to a huge terrace behind it, offering a view of the vast ocean, dozens of yards above the ground, and certain death if one were to jump.
Fear still lingered in the boy's voice as he tried to remain composed.
Yet he clutched the loaded crossbow in his hands, aimed at the direction of the entrance.
If the enemy charged in, he would ensure the first one to enter would die.
"Swear to protect His Majesty to the death!"
Two fiercely loyal soldiers from the Targaryen fleet, however, drew their swords and banged their shields, standing on both sides of the throne.
They vowed that the traitors must step over their corpses to harm the young king.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder