The mournful sound of war horns echoed across the battlefield, cutting through the morning mist like a sharp blade.
Woo... Woo... Woo...
Riding at the head of the victorious army was Gendry of the Storm, mounted upon a magnificent black warhorse. Above him fluttered the golden stag banner of House Baratheon.
Close behind rode Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
Alongside Gendry rode four distinguished standard-bearers, each representing one of the kingdoms that had united under his banner.
- Anguy, representing the Stormlands.
- Ser Harrold "Harry the Heir" Hardyng, representing the Vale.
- Rosby Brune, representing the Claw Peninsula of the Crownlands.
- Jon Snow, representing the North.
The five young warriors rode shoulder to shoulder, each possessing a unique appearance yet sharing the same youthful confidence.
Gendry had black hair and piercing blue eyes.
Anguy's red hair and freckles made him easy to recognize.
Harrold Hardyng possessed sandy-blond hair, blue eyes, and a sharp aquiline nose.
Rosby Brune had a broad square jaw, a flattened nose, and short gray hair.
Jon Snow carried the unmistakable Stark features—brown hair, gray eyes, and the long face of the ancient northern bloodline.
Behind them marched the great lords of the Stormlands, the Reach, the Vale, and the Claw Peninsula.
Hidden among the procession were two hooded women whose identities remained concealed beneath dark cloaks.
They were none other than Melisandre, the Red Priestess, and Tyene Sand, Dorne's envoy.
The vast vanguard stretched behind them like a moving forest of spears, banners, and pikes.
The knights proudly displayed the sigils of their noble houses upon their shields and cloaks.
Leading the army were Gendry's personal household knights.
They wore jet-black armor beneath flowing golden cloaks, carrying long spears and massive greatswords.
Behind them marched the knights of the Claw Peninsula and the Stormlands under Ser Boros Blount and Ser Guyard Morrigen.
The famed Knights of the Vale followed in shining silver armor with eagle-shaped helmets and sky-blue cloaks under Robar Royce.
Finally came the knights of the Reach, clad in silver and black armor beneath emerald-green cloaks, led by Lord Randyll Tarly.
Waiting outside the King's Gate to receive the victorious army stood the commanders of the siege.
Stannis Baratheon.
Roose Bolton.
Ser Garlan Tyrell.
Stannis remained silent, his expression as cold and hard as forged iron, allowing Roose Bolton to report first.
After dismounting, Roose bowed respectfully.
His pale pink cloak was stained with fresh blood, and his icy eyes seemed colder than winter itself.
The previous day, he had personally led the Northerners in a brutal purge throughout King's Landing.
The flayed man banners of House Bolton had terrified the city's inhabitants.
"Your Highness," Roose reported calmly, "King's Landing has been secured."
"We eliminated the rioters and executed the traitors responsible for the chaos."
"We captured two members of House Lannister inside the Red Keep. Both were wounded."
"However, Queen Cersei Lannister and Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers, managed to escape."
"King Joffrey died during the riots on Visenya's Hill."
"The commander of the City Watch, Ironhand, was also killed while trying to suppress the uprising."
"We arrested Grand Maester Pycelle, the remaining members of the Small Council, several false prophets, and numerous bandits."
"They have all been executed."
With that, the Small Council that had once ruled King's Landing had been virtually wiped out.
Ser Barristan lowered his head.
"Ironhand... is truly dead?"
There was genuine sadness in his voice.
Unlike many commanders of the Gold Cloaks, Ironhand had never been corrupt.
He never accepted bribes or claimed soldiers that existed only on paper.
He had simply remained loyal to the man who trusted him.
In the end, he died fulfilling that loyalty.
For a knight, perhaps there was no finer ending.
Gendry asked calmly,
"And the captured Lannisters?"
"Tyrion Lannister and Lancel Lannister."
Roose's voice carried a trace of regret.
"The City Watch reports that Prince Tommen escaped to Lord Tywin's army."
"Princess Myrcella was secretly sent to Braavos."
Gendry smiled faintly.
"What a clever little Imp."
"That oversight belongs to me."
"But a lion without its den is nothing more than a stray dog."
Turning toward Roose, he nodded approvingly.
"You've rendered outstanding service."
"Ride into the city beside me."
Roose bowed deeply.
"As you command."
Although his expression remained emotionless, he was inwardly pleased.
A generous king was exactly what the North needed.
Winter was approaching.
Without support from the southern kingdoms, the North would struggle to survive.
Gendry raised his hand.
"Enter the city!"
Removing his great horned helmet, he revealed a youthful and handsome face.
The cheers erupted almost instantly.
"Long live the Storm King!"
"Long live King Gendry!"
The people of King's Landing waved enthusiastically.
Many women screamed with excitement at the sight of the young king.
The city had suffered famine, riots, and endless bloodshed.
Compared to recent months, even Robert's careless rule now seemed merciful.
At least Robert had never allowed King's Landing to starve.
Meanwhile, House Lannister had never enjoyed much affection among the common people.
Years ago they adored the handsome King Robert.
Later they admired Renly.
Now both were gone.
Their admiration naturally shifted toward Gendry.
Few remembered that the blockade imposed by Gendry and Highgarden had been one of the causes of the famine.
The people remembered only the victor.
Looking across the cheering crowds, Gendry smiled inwardly.
Varys...
Can you see this?
Can you bear watching me receive such glory?
Thousands of faces looked up at him.
Most were thin from hunger.
Only days ago they had cursed every noble alive.
Today they praised their new king.
Stannis watched everything silently.
His jaw tightened.
He had never inspired such admiration.
Only Robert possessed that natural charisma.
Renly had imitated it, but imitation could never compare to genuine greatness.
As the royal army entered the city, cheers echoed from rooftops and balconies.
Flowers rained down from above.
Young women waved eagerly.
Tonight, no doubt, King's Landing would celebrate with countless feasts and romances.
Compared with the rugged Northerners and the fierce warriors of the Claw Peninsula, the citizens clearly favored the polished knights of the southern kingdoms.
Soldiers stationed along the streets lowered their spears in salute.
Only a handful of Gold Cloaks remained alive.
Most had been killed or wounded during the previous night's chaos.
Hidden among the crowd stood a filthy beggar.
No one spared him a second glance.
It was Varys.
Covered in dirt and foul-smelling rags, he watched the victorious procession disappear into the Red Keep.
Enjoy your triumph while you still can...
The Red Keep had once again become a palace of celebration.
The throne room glittered with gold, furs, precious gems, and colorful banners.
For the first time in many months, peace had returned.
The massive oak doors opened wide.
The victorious heroes entered one after another.
Trumpets sounded loudly with each arrival.
The Master of Ceremonies stepped forward and announced every noble guest in a booming voice.
The assembled lords, ladies, and knights erupted into applause.
Finally, the herald raised his voice even higher.
"All hail His Highness Gendry of House Baratheon!"
"King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men!"
"Firstborn and rightful heir of King Robert the First!"
"First Magistrate of Myr, Tyrosh, the Disputed Lands, and the Stepstones!"
"Liberator!"
"Chosen of the Seven!"
"Savior of King's Landing!"
"Khal of the Dothraki!"
"Governor of the Triarchy!"
"Magistrate of Volantis!"
"Breaker of the Crowns of Slaver's Bay!"
Even the herald nearly lost his breath after reciting such an impossibly long list of titles.
Gendry rode directly through the throne room toward the Iron Throne.
He wore black armor decorated with crimson crystal dragons and golden stags.
His magnificent horned helmet glittered brilliantly.
Ruby eyes adorned the dragon.
Black gemstones formed the stag's eyes.
A golden cloak embroidered with dragons and lions flowed behind him.
Stopping before the Iron Throne, Gendry handed his helmet to Anguy.
His black stallion stood calmly without causing any embarrassment.
Gendry looked up at the throne made from twisted swords.
"What an ugly chair."
Without hesitation, he sat upon it.
The blades pressed painfully against his body.
It was certainly not comfortable.
Perhaps one day I'll melt this thing down with dragonfire and forge something worthy of a king.
Even so, he sat perfectly still.
His balance, instincts, and battle-honed reflexes allowed him to remain steady.
The assembled nobles exchanged astonished glances.
Many believed the Iron Throne rejected unworthy rulers.
Yet Gendry had taken his seat without hesitation.
Perhaps...
The throne itself had acknowledged him.
His voice echoed through the hall.
"I appoint my uncle, Lord Stannis Baratheon, as Hand of the King."
It was his first royal decree.
Once, such a decision might have caused controversy.
But winter was approaching.
Hard times required hard men.
Drawing Tiger Roar, his treasured longsword, Gendry gently rested the blade upon Stannis's shoulder.
"I accept."
Stannis knelt solemnly.
"I shall devote my life to serving Your Grace."
"I will offer honest counsel."
"I will protect your rights."
"I will defend the realm."
"I will stand beside you no matter how difficult the road ahead."
"I will care for your people."
"And I will destroy your enemies."
"Rise."
Gendry personally placed the golden chain of the Hand around Stannis's neck.
Stannis then took his place beside the Small Council table.
Turning to the legendary knight, Gendry continued,
"Ser Barristan Selmy."
"You shall remain Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."
"You will personally select the new members of the Kingsguard."
Barristan knelt.
"I shall serve as Your Grace's sword and shield."
Though he had served many kings throughout his life, he silently prayed that this young monarch would become the greatest among them.
One after another, the victorious lords stepped forward to receive recognition.
The Stormlands.
The Vale.
The North.
The Claw Peninsula.
Finally came Lord Mace Tyrell and Ser Garlan Tyrell, dressed in magnificent green velvet trimmed with sable fur.
"You have all served the realm faithfully."
"Your courage preserved this kingdom."
Mace Tyrell's heart raced.
Normally, this would be the perfect opportunity to request a position on the Small Council.
But the Reach's performance during the war had been less than glorious.
He found himself too embarrassed to ask.
Gendry continued,
"The realm requires capable men."
"The Small Council must be rebuilt."
Mace's eyes immediately lit up.
"I appoint Lord Mace Tyrell as Master of Coin."
"Lord Yohn Royce shall serve as Master of Laws."
"The Maester of Dragonstone is promoted to Grand Maester."
"Lord Selwyn Tarth shall become Master of Whisperers."
"I further appoint Lord Bryce Caron, Lord Roose Bolton, Count Jack Cleber, Ser Boros Blount, Lord Grafton, Lord Redfort, Lord Rowan, Lord Paxter Redwyne, and Lord Randyll Tarly as advisors to the Small Council."
Lord Selwyn's appointment was largely honorary.
Most intelligence work would still be handled by Qyburn.
Nevertheless, his contributions deserved recognition.
Mace Tyrell immediately dropped to his knees.
"There is no greater honor than serving Your Grace!"
"I shall devote everything to the realm, even if it costs me my life!"
He knelt so quickly that everyone around him stared in disbelief.
Garlan couldn't help but sigh.
Everything had changed.
These appointments were granted directly by the king himself—not requested by House Tyrell.
That alone ensured the recipients' loyalty would belong first to Gendry.
Before anyone else could speak, the High Septon hurried forward.
"Your Grace."
"There remains one final matter."
"Your coronation must not be delayed."
Gendry frowned.
"My vengeance is not yet complete."
The High Septon shook his head.
"The gods recognize justice."
"When King Robert married Cersei Lannister, House Lannister had already committed countless acts of treachery."
"The Seven never blessed that union."
"The marriage was void from the very beginning."
"The children born from it possess no legitimate claim."
"King Robert himself declared this before his death."
"Therefore, in the name of the Seven, I proclaim the marriage between House Baratheon and House Lannister null and void."
"The rightful heir is Gendry Baratheon."
The hall fell silent.
Then—
"We want Gendry!"
Mace Tyrell shouted first.
"We want Gendry!"
The other lords immediately followed.
"No traitor queen!"
"No false-born heirs!"
"Long live Gendry Baratheon!"
"Long live the Storm King!"
The entire throne room erupted into deafening cheers.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)