Chapter 14: Wrath

Viserys, half-kneeling beneath the statues of the Seven, finally reached his breaking point.

The silver-haired boy's body temperature had risen to a frightening level, his fair skin reddening as if an internal furnace was scorching him.

Queen Rhaella, his mother, finally noticed her son's condition.

"Viserys!"

"What's wrong?"

But with the world spinning and his mind seared blank, the boy only caught a glimpse of his mother's anxious face as she crouched down.

Then, he collapsed, his burning cheeks pressed against the cold ground.

"Maester!"

The newly crowned little king had fainted, causing chaos within the Sept of Dragonstone.

...

Compared to the minor incident of Viserys Targaryen's fainting on Dragonstone, a much bigger event was taking place.

At the same time.

Far away in King's Landing.

The powerful Tywin Lannister was furious, which was the real headline.

Nobody would have imagined, nor could they easily picture the calculating and cold-hearted Lord Tywin losing his composure like this.

Splash—

The knights of House Lannister knelt before him, begging their lord to calm down.

They hadn't forgotten the tune of "The Rains of Castamere" echoing above the ruins of Tarbeck Hall and the blood-drenched land where men, women, and children were slaughtered.

The Lannister soldiers who had managed to escape were now tied to wooden stakes, awaiting the wrath of their lord to flay and torture them.

The reason for Tywin Lannister's fury was simple: aside from the few who had escaped, nearly all of the forces he had sent to secretly assassinate Queen Rhaella and her young son Viserys had been wiped out.

Because of the delay in the news, this devastating report arrived a step late.

Days later, the corpse of Tywin's brother and most trusted right-hand man, Kevan Lannister, was found and brought back to King's Landing.

Kevan's death was gruesome; besides Tywin himself, no one could bear to look at it.

Women who had never witnessed such carnage ran to the corner and retched.

Kevan's fatal wound was in his chest, pierced from behind by a sword.

His attackers, fearing he wasn't dead, attempted to sever his head, but for some reason, perhaps exhaustion, the sword got stuck halfway.

Thus, Kevan's corpse, head hanging by a thread, was transported back in a cart, the sight too horrifying to behold. His body had begun to reek, maggots crawling all over him. Even with the maester's help in dressing his wounds, they could only barely stitch up the gash on his neck, unable to mask the stench.

At this moment.

The tall and slender Lord of Casterly Rock, with his green eyes filled with bloodshot veins and thick golden sideburns trembling, couldn't fathom that his brother had died in battle like this, casting a Sandow over the victory they were reaping.

A hint of fear had even secretly took root in his heart.

This was supposed to be a feast to divide and conquer the Targaryens. House Lannister had been the last to act, but the most ruthless.

Everyone knew that if the Targaryens weren't wiped out, they'd always be a ticking time bomb.

These 'true dragon-blooded' individuals would eventually make them pay in blood.

Everything had gone smoothly until now, but when Kevan's sudden demise occurred just as the fruits of victory were within grasp, a psychological Sandow was cast over Tywin, who already harbored a guilty conscience.

The body of his old friend, Aerys, lay before the Iron Throne.

During the brutal sack of King's Landing, Lannister troops rampaged, pillaging and burning under the name of the 'new king.'

Rhaegar's wife and child, Princess Elia and Aegon, had their bodies wrapped in the crimson Lannister cloak by his own hands, offered to Robert Baratheon as a sign of loyalty.

These bloodstained scenes flashed through his mind repeatedly.

A debt of blood must be paid in blood.

Or perhaps it was simply karma.

Nevertheless, Tywin Lannister's spine never bent, his cold, ruthless face still shrouded in dark clouds.

He would not let his inner turmoil affect his loyal bannermen; he remained the authoritative Lord of Casterly Rock.

Subsequently.

Bang—

A middle-aged man, dressed in red robes adorned with a vibrant lion embroidered in gold thread, seemed to finally lose control of his emotions.

With no warning, he kicked over the table before him, scattering its contents on the floor.

"Targaryen!"

He then drew the sword from his waist, wildly hacking away at everything in the room.

If the death of his wife, Joanna Lannister, years ago had taken away the last bit of warmth in Tywin, the death of his brother Kevan Lannister now robbed him of his composure.

The furious Lord Tywin appeared enraged beyond control.

He loathed the Targaryen family; otherwise, he wouldn't have gone to such lengths this time to exterminate every last one of their dragonspawn.

Years ago, at his wedding to Joanna, a drunken Aerys Targaryen had committed an unspeakable act against Tywin's wife, an act that had been buried deep within his heart.

After the incident, Tywin sent his wife away from King's Landing and returned to Casterly Rock, their friendship, once forged during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, now shattered.

The present-day furious Tywin left every knight and bannerman of House Lannister who had followed him here in shock.

Only the man known as 'The Mountain,' Gregor Clegane, stood arrogantly with his arms crossed, seemingly unafraid of Lord Tywin's wrath.

Regardless of how furious Tywin Lannister became, he never lashed out at others.

He executed every deserter with his own hands and ordered the concealment of Kevan's death, holding a grand funeral for his brother under the guise of an 'accidental fall from a horse.'

He vowed to avenge his brother's death by exterminating every last Targaryen.

However...

You cannot keep fire hidden in paper.

...

King's Landing, freshly cleansed with blood and fire, seemed to have momentarily lost its stench of urine, now enveloped in the putrid smell of blood and decay.

Within a narrow alley that only allowed two people to pass at once, nearly every household hung a white cloth.

The night was deep.

The city watch had just patrolled the area.

And at this moment.

Clink~

A round silver stag fell to the ground, emitting a crisp sound.

Moments later.

A small figure darted out from the darkness, looking left and right to make sure no one was watching.

Swiftly, they picked up the silver stag from the ground, stuffed it into their chest, and vanished into the darkness once more.