Chapter 480: Sansa

There were many in attendance for the wedding, even more than those present for Viserys' coronation.

The Great Sept of Baelor atop Visenya's Hill was more familiar to the common folk than the Red Keep on Aegon's High Hill.

Viserys' recent surge in popularity only heightened the anticipation for the wedding.

Now, throngs of people gathered on the marble steps outside the Great Sept, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the newly crowned king.

The gates of the Red Keep opened wide, revealing the Unsullied escorting the noble guests.

Viserys still rode his snow-white steed, clad in a robe of black and gold, a cloak billowing behind him, and a sword at his side. The beautiful Princess of Dorne remained unseen within the royal carriage.

"Step back!"

"Step back!"

"Everyone! Do not rush the procession!"

In the bright sunshine, the procession made its way through King's Landing, flanked by gold-cloaked city guards.

The Unsullied, in their black-scaled armor, stood ready with round shields and long spears. Their disciplined formation was a sight to behold, making many spies lurking in the shadows feel uneasy about the future.

The Targaryen forces, veterans of many battles, exuded an intimidating aura that couldn't be masked.

"Your Grace!"

"Your Grace! Look at me!"

"King Viserys!"

"Long live House Targaryen!"

Cheers erupted from the crowd. A courtesan on a balcony teasingly bared a breast in Viserys' direction, while the people raised their hands high as his gaze passed over them. For the people of King's Landing, House Targaryen was a deeply rooted concept of royalty.

It was ironic. Though the Mad King was betrayed by half the realm's nobles, his reputation among commoners remained largely unaffected. The people believed he only burned those nobles who deserved it. Yet, when King Robert, who had overthrown the Mad King in the name of justice, took the throne, he easily depleted the royal treasury. He owed the Lannisters, Tyrells, the Faith, the Iron Bank, and merchants of Tyrosh millions of gold dragons. The nation was in debt, riddled with issues, and the people suffered.

The subsequent wars with the Wildlings and White Walkers only worsened the situation. Thus, when Viserys arrived in King's Landing, he easily gained the people's support.

Amidst the cheers and falling flowers, the long procession finally reached the Great Sept.

Viserys dismounted, and the ornate carriage bearing the bride came to a stop. Chivalrously, he opened the carriage door and gently took the hand of the Dornish Princess, helping her descend.

Thunderous applause erupted, but Viserys did not linger. Guarded closely by the Unsullied, he led the princess up the steps and into the Great Sept.

The major Westerosi lords who had come from the Red Keep quickly dismounted and entered from a side door.

The wedding ceremony inside was reserved for the nobility, but the commoners outside remained, their voices a constant buzz.

Among the crowd stood an old man in a tawny robe, his unkempt white hair contrasting with the deep wrinkles on his face. He watched Viserys intently, particularly noting the fleeting glimpse of the curvaceous Dornish Princess, shielded by the Unsullied.

Inside the Great Sept, Viserys and Arianne stood in the Hall of Lamps, a long corridor leading to the main hall, its ceiling adorned with colorful stained glass that shimmered in the sun.

"It's beautiful here," Arianne, her eyes twinkling, whispered.

Viserys simply smiled in response, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Arianne, a Dornishwoman, had a wild streak. Even pregnant, she had indulged her soon-to-be husband the previous night, with some help from her friends. Dornish women were known for their fiery nature, perhaps due to their spicy cuisine.

Arianne was no exception. She once idolized the legendary warrior woman of the Rhoynar, Nymeria, and had ambitions to vie for Dorne's rule against her brother, Prince Quentyn Martell. But now, she was entirely devoted to Viserys, captivated by his unique allure.

Soon, the High Septon's voice echoed from the main hall.

"Your Grace," a servant from the Red Keep approached to inform them it was time.

Behind them, a nervous red-haired girl clutched Arianne's long dress. Sansa Stark's face was flushed with anxiety, her mother's words echoing in her mind:

"Sansa, you must be perfect as the flower girl. Do not make any mistakes and try to win the favor of the king and queen."