The Reach banners fluttered beside the dragons' standard as Aryan's newly united host crested the last gentle rise that overlooked the Blackwater Rush. There, sprawling between hills and marsh, lay King's Landing—the Iron Throne's seat, its streets now tense with rumors and fear. Three dragons wheeled high above, their shadows lengthening over an army far larger than Aryan had led mere weeks ago.
Inside the city, the Lannisters braced for siege: Lord Tywin himself had arrived, with Jaime and a force of hardened veterans; Queen Cersei stewed in the Red Keep, her eyes haunted and desperate; King Robert, caught between drink and depression, commanded little respect. The city's walls were strong, but Aryan knew what they hid—hunger, resentment, and a fear of fire.
First Strike: The Dragon's Fear
Before dawn, Aryan's forces fanned out along the riverbank and the Kingsroad, cutting off supply lines and trapping any fleeing nobles. His spies, now bolstered with Reach and riverland talent, set the city abuzz with tales of mercy and justice under the dragons. "Those who open the gates shall be spared; those who resist face a fire the kings of old could not dream."
Daenerys and Aryan together led midnight sorties. Their dragons—Verdantyr immense and fanged, Skywrath and Storm-Eye trailing violet flame—performed aerial displays above the eastern districts. The population, awed and terrified, watched as Aryan promised peace and bread for loyal subjects. Smallfolk and even Goldcloaks soon began defecting, bringing information of secret tunnels and Lannister weaknesses.
A Parley with the Lion
As the armies settled into siege, Tywin Lannister sent a herald with silk and gold requesting parley. Aryan, flanked by Daenerys and Lady Olenna, met Tywin and Jaime outside the Mud Gate, dragons perched nearby like silent judgment.
"My terms are simple, Lord Lannister," Aryan declared. "Lay down arms. Surrender the throne and your kin shall be spared, your house remain rich and powerful—under new rule. Refuse, and King's Landing burns, as Harrenhal burned before."
Tywin's face showed nothing. Jaime's eyes darted warily to Verdantyr. "You would burn half the realm for a crown you only claim by birthright?" Tywin sneered.
Aryan replied—voice resonant, but not without steel—"Not for a crown. For an end to a game that has slaughtered innocents for a hundred years. This is your last chance to side with survival, not ruin."
Behind Tywin, Aryan glimpsed the ranks of knights—many grim-faced, some shifted uneasily, whispering of the Reach betrayal, of dragons, and of hope.
The Battle Begins
Talks failed. That night, Tywin ordered a desperate counter—an attempt to break Aryan's lines under darkness, using crack Westerlands cavalry and a sortie from the city's Lion Gate. The attack slammed into Aryan's defenses, fierce and bloody.
But Aryan had prepared—Unsullied met the charge with walls of spears, Reach riders surged from concealment, and in the pivotal moment, Verdantyr swept low over the causeway, a tide of green fire forcing the city gates shut and scattering Tywin's reserves. The battle was brutal, but brief.
Aryan, at dawn, rode before the battered Lannister lines—Verdantyr at his side, Daenerys following with Skywrath. He called to the defeated knights: "Your war is lost. Choose fire, or turn your swords to new legend." Hundreds threw down arms. Tywin was forced to retreat inside the city, his host bleeding away to desertion and dread.
The Lion's Last Stand
Within the Red Keep, panic reigned. Cersei threatened to unleash wildfire, to burn the city before letting it fall. Aryan, knowing this part of the story, had already sent secret agents—Missandei and Marei among them—through the tunnels, bribing pyromancers and Goldcloaks to stand ready to quench any mad blaze.
Finally, Aryan sent forth Daenerys—riding above the city with both young dragons roaring in her wake. To the people below, she offered a promise:
"No more want. No more lies. Submit to House Targaryen and our reign is justice, not fire!"
When the first gate was thrown open by cityfolk, the tide turned irrevocably. The Unsullied marched in alongside local defenders, keeping strict order and doling out food from Reach granaries. Aryan forbade sack, rape, or wanton destruction. He personally freed the dungeons, inviting even the city's poorest into the squares to see the dragons fly—turning victory into legend.
The Surrender
Facing riot from within and dragons without, Tywin Lannister and Jaime, battered and cornered, finally rode forth in a final act of pride—demanding terms. Aryan received them with Daenerys beside him, golden dragons arrayed on either side. The terms: the Lannisters would retain their lands and wealth, but forfeit the crown and bend the knee before the people and the dragons. Cersei would be banished from power, and the Goldcloaks restructured under Aryan's new order.
Tywin, knowing defeat, knelt—cold but unbowed. Jaime joined him, his manner strange but unreadable. In that moment, Aryan felt the pulse of destiny: the wheel had finally broken, and he, Viserys transformed, had outplayed lions and lived to seize dawn.
A World Changed
The city erupted in both fear and celebration as Aryan and Daenerys entered the Red Keep amidst swords lowered and hearts in awe. The Iron Throne, once a chair for tyrants and fools, awaited—but Aryan paused. He gathered his new council: Lady Olenna, Daenerys, loyalists from Reach, Riverlands, and even repentant Lannisters.
"Westeros is not a throne, nor a castle, nor a dragon's lair. It is all of us—free, together, under one promise: never again shall shadow rule the realm."
Drums beat, banners flew, and the dragons reared up to the heavens—heralds of a new era written by blood, hope, and will.
End of Chapter 23