Chapter 20, Conquest Year 284

Year 283 AC.

Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, personally led his army to break the siege of Riverrun.

After a brief stay in Riverrun, the Northern cavalry continued southward, crossing the border of the Riverlands and heading toward Dorne.

There were only three ways to enter Dorne from the south by land: the closest to Riverrun was the Boneway, the Prince's Pass, and the pass on the Red Mountains east of Oldtown.

As the majority of the Northern army was cavalry, they did not choose the difficult Boneway, but rather the more direct Prince's Pass.

With the Lord of Winterfell marching his army south, Dorne naturally prepared for war in full force.

However, a raven soon arrived, clearing up the misunderstanding. Eddard Stark, honoring his word, kept his army outside of the Prince's Pass.

He brought only six men with him: Ethan Glover, Martin Cassel, Theo Wull, Howland Reed, William Dustin, and Mark Ryswell. With Dorne's permission, they crossed the border and ventured deep into Dornish territory to search for Eddard's sister, Lyanna Stark.

Eventually, Eddard and his companions found Lyanna and the three missing Kingsguard members near the Tower of Joy, close to the Vulture's Roost.

A fierce battle broke out between the seven Northerners and the three Kingsguard. However, the details of the fight remained unknown to anyone but the ten participants.

People only knew that the Lord of Winterfell emerged victorious, but at a heavy cost: only one of his companions and himself survived.

Afterward, Eddard went to Starfall to return the legendary sword Dawn, once wielded by Ser Arthur Dayne. He then left Dorne with the body of his sister and the only surviving companion, Howland Reed.

The war of the usurper, which began in 281 AC and continued until 283 AC, finally came to a close with the Battle at the Tower of Joy.

The Targaryen family was completely driven from the Iron Throne, and most of its members were slaughtered, with only a few survivors.

The leader of the rebels, Robert, finally ascended the Iron Throne. In the Great Sept of Baelor, he was anointed with holy oil and recited the oaths. Crowned King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, Robert I Baratheon.

With the exception of Dorne, the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros were reunited under the name of the new king.

Dong—

The sound of bells rang throughout King's Landing.

The new king stood atop the towering steps of the Great Sept of Baelor, his tall figure casting a mountainous shadow. His subjects kneeled before him, congratulating him on his coronation.

"Honorable Jon Arryn, my lord!"

With his black hair and vigorous demeanor, the king spoke, his voice not diminished by the melodious sound of the bells, echoing throughout the sept.

"I hereby appoint you as the Hand of the King and Prime Minister."

The new King Robert personally pinned the Hand of the King's badge onto his foster father, the Lord of the Eyrie, Jon Arryn.

"Your Grace, I fear I am not competent enough to assume this position."

The nearly sixty-year-old Lord, with his white hair, bowed slightly, attempting to kneel and decline the honor, but King Robert laughed heartily, helping him back to his feet.

Ha ha ha ha, by the Seven."

King Robert continued to laugh as he helped the old Lord up, his warm laughter filling the air. It was a new beginning for Westeros under King Robert's rule, and the once divided realm was now united once more, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead.

In the following days, the new king's reign saw many changes. Alliances were forged, and the wounds of the recent war began to heal. The people of Westeros now looked to the future with a mixture of hope and trepidation, knowing that peace was fragile and could be shattered at any moment.

For the Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark, the loss of his sister Lyanna weighed heavily on his heart. He returned to the North with a renewed sense of purpose, dedicating himself to the protection of his people and the preservation of their way of life.

As the seasons changed, the stories of heroism, love, and loss in the War of the Usurper became the stuff of legend, passed down through generations. And so, Westeros continued to spin its tales of triumph and tragedy, a never-ending cycle of power and intrigue.

"Lord Arryn!"

The young king's voice rang out like a great bell, his laughter hearty and contagious.

"If you, with your abilities, are not fit to be the Hand of the King, then I fear there is no one more suitable in all of the Seven Kingdoms."

Despite his laughter, when he mentioned the Seven Kingdoms, Robert Baratheon's smile faded slightly.

The Seven Kingdoms were not yet fully united; Dorne had not willingly submitted to the Iron Throne's change of power, and it remained a tough bone to chew.

This became a major concern for Robert Baratheon, for if Dorne persisted in supporting the Targaryens, Westeros might be plagued by endless war for decades to come.

Thus,

The first task for the newly appointed Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, was to journey to Dorne, the southernmost region of Westeros, and attempt to quell the anger ignited by the deaths of Prince Lewyn and Princess Elia Martell.

"I will do my utmost."

In the Great Sept of Baelor,

Under the watchful gaze of the Seven, the elderly Lord coughed violently before finally nodding in agreement.

At the new king's coronation, Robert's brother Stannis naturally appeared.

The young man, not yet thirty, already had a receding hairline that caused worry. Stannis's face remained perpetually stern, his lips tightly drawn.

His fleet at Dragonstone had not yet been fully assembled; the construction of warships and the training of soldiers all required time.

But Robert had lost patience and could not wait any longer. He was in a good mood, but when he saw his brother, as rigid and unpleasant as a stone in a latrine, his smile faded.

At the same time, he could no longer bear the thought of the "spawn of the abomination" still breathing.

So, at the coronation ceremony, the newly sworn Lord of the Hightower, Paxter Redwyne, was ordered to lead an attack on Dragonstone.

...

March, Year 284 AC.

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, Viserys had spent over six months on Dragonstone.

Queen Rhaella's belly grew larger by the day, and the castle's servants began to speculate whether it would be a new prince or princess.

During this time, Viserys practiced swordplay under the tutelage of Ser William and expanded his knowledge under the guidance of the old maester.

But unexpected events always seemed to take one by surprise.

Illness struck like a falling mountain.

The octogenarian Maester Danyel suddenly fell ill as winter approached. In this medically underdeveloped age, living to this age was already quite advanced.

The old maester's body could no longer endure the torment of his illness. His face was pale as paper, and he was emaciated. Finally, on his deathbed, he made his last request, clutching Viserys's hand as he drew his final breath.

The lamplight in the sickroom flickered, darkness enveloped the outside.

Deep into the night.

Queen Rhaella wept loudly, another blow following the deaths of her eldest son and husband. Already frail and pregnant, her depression accumulated another layer.

Sir Daevi Sand, the steward, also stood in the sickroom, his eyes flickering slightly. Beside him was the now-recovered master-at-arms of the Red Keep.

Ser William Darry's injuries had healed, but lingering issues remained. After all, he had been gravely wounded and had traveled a long way on horseback. He was grateful to be alive.

This winter had been difficult for him as well. His old injuries flared up, causing him agonizing pain.

Viserys, whose hand had been held by the old maester, stood by the bedside, silently watching as the maester took his last breath.

At that moment,

Boom—

A long alarm bell rang out from the direction of the Dragonstone lighthouse, reaching far into the silent night.