King's Landing felt different that morning.
A cold drizzle blanketed the city, covering the streets in mist and mud. The usual noise of merchants, drunkards, and shouting crowds had vanished entirely. Instead, an uneasy silence hung over the capital like a funeral shroud.
Only the distant tolling of bells echoed through the rain.
Deep.
Heavy.
Mournful.
People moved slowly through the streets and alleyways, their heads lowered as they walked toward Visenya's Hill. Their boots splashed through muddy water while dark cloaks fluttered beneath the cold wind.
Today was the funeral of King Robert Baratheon I.
News of the king's death had spread throughout King's Landing the previous day, officially announced by the Hand of the King. At the same time, another proclamation had shaken the realm—
Before his death, Robert Baratheon had formally legitimized Karl El as his eldest son and declared him heir to the Iron Throne.
Now, Karl Baratheon I sat upon the throne of Westeros.
And this funeral would be the first royal decree issued under his reign.
As the crowds advanced through the rain, crows perched silently atop rooftops and towers, tilting their heads as though watching the mourning city below.
The atmosphere was unbearably oppressive.
No one dared to speak loudly.
Even whispers felt inappropriate beneath the gray sky.
Eventually, the streams of people converged at the enormous white marble plaza before the Great Sept of Baelor.
The grand structure towered over the city, magnificent even beneath the rain. Seven crystal towers rose toward the heavens, each containing a massive bronze bell that swayed slowly in the wind.
The bells rang only during the most important occasions in the Seven Kingdoms.
The death of a king was one of them.
At the center of the plaza stood the colossal statue of Baelor the Blessed, calm and compassionate as he overlooked the countless mourners gathered below.
Within the Great Sept rested the royal crypts.
Once the ceremony ended, Robert Baratheon would join the dead kings of Westeros.
Meanwhile, atop the pulpit overlooking the plaza, the remaining members of the Small Council waited anxiously.
Eddard Stark stood at the forefront, his expression grim.
After Karl's ascension, Eddard had been officially appointed Hand of the King and Regent of the Realm. Yet despite the honor, there was no joy on his face today.
He had not slept all night.
Ever since hearing about the assassination attempt against Karl the previous evening, anxiety had consumed him.
After Ser Barristan Selmy escorted Prince Oberyn Martell, Princess Arianne Martell, and Quentyn Martell into confinement beneath the Red Keep, the Kingsguard commander had returned with alarming news—
The new king had disappeared.
Karl had personally pursued the suspected assassin into the darkness… and never returned.
No trace.
No witnesses.
Nothing.
Even Varys, the infamous Master of Whisperers known as the Spider, had no information whatsoever.
That alone terrified Eddard.
His eyes drifted toward Varys now, suspicion visible within them.
One failure could perhaps be dismissed.
But two consecutive disasters involving the royal family?
First Robert's death.
Then the attempted assassination of the new king.
And throughout all of it, Varys knew nothing.
It was enough to make Eddard question whether the Spider himself lurked somewhere within the conspiracy.
Varys naturally noticed the distrust directed toward him.
For once, the eunuch lacked his usual sickly sweet smile. His hands remained hidden within his sleeves while he quietly prayed for Karl to appear alive.
After all, Eddard Stark now controlled the Gold Cloaks as Regent, along with the forces stationed outside King's Landing.
If the Hand truly decided Varys was guilty…
The Spider would have nowhere to run.
Nearby, Ser Barristan Selmy appeared equally exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot, and deep wrinkles lined his brow.
Ever since Karl vanished, the old knight had fallen into heavy self-doubt.
Three kings.
He had served three kings in succession.
And every single one had either died or faced assassination under his protection.
Aerys Targaryen.
Robert Baratheon.
And now possibly Karl Baratheon.
Barristan could not help wondering whether he was cursed.
A Kingsguard existed to protect his king, yet every monarch he served had met tragedy while he remained alive.
The shame gnawed at him relentlessly.
Grand Maester Pycelle looked no better.
The elderly man glanced nervously between the members of the Small Council before finally speaking.
"Lord Hand… the maesters completed the examination of the cupbearer Hyde last night."
Eddard turned sharply.
"What did you discover?"
Pycelle hesitated briefly before answering.
"The body had actually been dead for more than two weeks."
Silence instantly fell over the platform.
Pycelle continued grimly.
"The reason it showed no decomposition was due to advanced preservation techniques."
"And those techniques…" He sighed heavily. "Originate from the House of Black and White in Braavos."
"Faceless Men."
The words struck like thunder.
Robert's death was no longer an accident.
It was murder.
Deliberate.
Premeditated.
Combined with Karl's disappearance, the revelation cast an even darker shadow over the ceremony.
Rain continued falling quietly across the plaza.
No one spoke for several moments.
Then suddenly—
A commotion erupted from the edge of the crowd.
"It's Lord Karl El!"
"No, fool! It's His Majesty King Karl Baratheon!"
"He's alive!"
"What's he carrying?"
"Gods… is that a human head?"
The noise spread rapidly through the masses.
Eddard and the others immediately looked toward the disturbance.
And then they saw him.
Even among thousands, Karl stood out instantly.
Tall.
Broad.
Overwhelming.
The crowd naturally parted before him like water splitting around a ship.
As Karl approached the Great Sept, relief flooded the faces of the Small Council members.
"His Majesty is alive…" Pycelle nearly blurted something inappropriate before correcting himself hurriedly. "Quickly! Escort the king!"
But Barristan Selmy was already moving.
The old knight descended the platform immediately, pushing through the Gold Cloaks until he reached Karl's side.
Under heavy guard, the new king advanced toward the pulpit.
Only then did the gathered crowds truly see what Karl carried in his hand.
A severed head.
Its expression remained twisted with terror even in death.
And yet strangely…
There was relief within its eyes as well.
Eddard felt a chill crawl down his spine.
Not just him.
Varys, Barristan, and Pycelle all exchanged uneasy glances.
Karl had vanished for an entire night chasing this assassin.
What exactly had happened during those hours?
What kind of horror had forced even a Faceless Man to welcome death with relief?
Eddard finally spoke carefully.
"This is the assassin?"
Karl raised the head by its hair.
"Yes."
"It was a Faceless Man."
A grim silence followed.
Eddard swallowed slowly.
"Then Robert's death truly was murder…"
Karl's blue eyes turned icy.
"Yes."
"My father did not die in a hunting accident."
"He was assassinated."
The declaration caused visible unease among the council members.
Varys hesitated before asking quietly,
"Do you know who ordered it?"
Karl looked directly at him.
Cold.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
That gaze alone made Varys feel ice spread down his spine.
But Karl said nothing.
Instead, he turned toward the gathered people of King's Landing.
The rain continued falling.
Thousands watched him silently.
Then Karl raised the severed head high.
"People of King's Landing!"
His voice thundered across the plaza louder than the bells themselves.
"Today, we gather to honor King Robert Baratheon!"
"I, Karl Baratheon, eldest son of Robert Baratheon, will preside over this funeral!"
The crowd remained utterly silent.
Then Karl's voice darkened.
"But before we begin…"
"You all deserve to know the truth."
"My father was murdered."
Shock swept through the masses.
"A Faceless Man assassin infiltrated his side and waited patiently for two weeks before finally killing him!"
"And after murdering King Robert…"
Karl's eyes burned with fury.
"He attempted to assassinate me as well."
Murmurs spread rapidly throughout the crowd.
Fear.
Anger.
Disbelief.
Karl raised the severed head higher.
"But hear me now!"
"I swear before gods and men that I will personally avenge King Robert Baratheon!"
"I will hunt down every conspirator behind this crime!"
"And this head…"
He suddenly hurled it toward Robert's funeral pyre.
"Is their death sentence!"
The severed head landed atop the massive pile of wood beside Robert's body.
Then—
Black blood began pouring from its eyes, nose, ears, and mouth.
A moment later—
WHOOSH!
Flames erupted violently.
The pyre ignited instantly.
Fire spread rapidly across the wood until Robert Baratheon's body disappeared beneath roaring flames.
The crowd stared in stunned silence.
Yet Karl was not finished.
He opened his palm calmly.
Within it rested a golden dragon egg.
Most people barely noticed.
Their attention remained fixed upon the burning pyre.
Then Karl stepped forward.
Into the flames.
"YOUR MAJESTY!"
Barristan Selmy shouted in horror.
Eddard Stark's eyes widened.
Tens of thousands gasped simultaneously as Karl disappeared into the inferno.
And then—
A sharp, clear cry echoed through the plaza.
Chirp!
Everyone froze.
Another chirp followed.
From within the flames, a small golden creature suddenly emerged.
It flapped unstable wings as it rose into the air above the Great Sept.
A dragon.
A living dragon.
For a moment, the entire world seemed to stop.
The tiny golden dragon circled above Baelor's great statue before flying higher around the crystal towers and bronze bells of the sept.
Then it cried out once more.
Its voice was young and clear.
Finally, the dragon folded its wings and descended.
The creature landed gently upon Karl's shoulder as he stepped out from the flames.
His exquisite robes had burned away completely.
Yet fire itself clung to his body like living garments.
The rain hissed into steam around him.
Dragonfire danced across his skin.
The people of King's Landing stared in complete disbelief.
A man wrapped in flame.
A dragon perched upon his shoulder.
It was like witnessing the return of Valyria itself.
Karl slowly lifted his head.
Rage burned within his deep blue eyes.
Then he spoke.
"Do you want to know…"
"Who truly murdered Robert Baratheon?"
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)