[7] The Second Sons

Chapter 7: The Second Sons

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I stood by the window of my bedroom. Red Temple’s highest floors provided a beautiful view, I had to admit. The moon lighted my face while the night breeze ruffled my hair. I watched the distant stars, my gaze looking at the unfamiliar canvas.

Even the stars looked different from Earth. I recognized none of the constellations.

This place… wasn't some distant planet in a distant galaxy or even a parallel world. It was a whole other universe. I missed Earth sometimes. I wasn't someone important back in that place, but it was still home.

I guess this is my home now, even with my 22 years of memory as Viserys, that seemed a hard truth to swallow. But at least I managed to swallow it at all.

“You seem lost, my king,” a soft voice, so melodic that men might mistake it for a song, called from behind. I didn't turn. Warm hands wrapped around me from behind as a warm, naked body pressed against my shirtless back.

Kinvara hugged me, resting her head on my back. She was showing incredible affection after my performance from yesterday morning till tonight. Just 13 points in END, and I could go for almost two days. It helped that she was hot as fuck, too.

“Stargazing.”

“Your expression is too melancholic for just that, no?” She asked, and I shrugged. She huffed. “More than stars, why not appreciate that red line?”

She peeked from my shoulders and pointed at the Red Comet.

The red lines that painted a part of the sky. It had been days, but it hadn't vanished. It had come to be when the dragon egg hatched, and it remained still.

It was heaven's announcement that a dragon was born.

“People are making so many different theories about that,” she said. “Someday they'd know the truth.”

“Someday.”

“Speaking of that, when are you planning to reveal your dragons? If you do that, a lot of noble families from Westeros will show you their support,” Kinvara said. I put a hand behind me, yanking her arm, and made her sit on the window. Leaning in and kissing her, I pulled back as she smirked. “You could have just said it if you wanted me to shut up.”

“You're a smart woman,” I smiled back. “So stop saying dumb stuff. Just my name would earn me a thousand assassins. And if my enemies learn that I own a dragon now? King Robert two weeks ago, and Ned Stark will get executed tomorrow. Robert Baratheon wants my sister dead simply because she carries Drogo’s child. His son will sit on the throne, and he will not hesitate to send an army to kill me and my dragon.”

“Haah, you're very aware of the political situation,” Kinvara said. “Then what are you planning? Do you plan to hide your dragon in that dark space forever? It- she's a wild creature. She needs to spread her wings to become bigger. To become helpful to you.”

“Not forever. I'll let Viserion fly soon,” I said. “As for my plans… I plan to go to Westeros and ally myself with Dorne. I was engaged to Princess Arianne Martell. 17 years ago. It was only broken because I had to flee Westeros after Robert took the throne. The Dornish are still loyal to my house. They'll accept me. Especially when I show my dragon to them. They won't leak the information either.”

“But…”

“But as sure as I am, there can always be variables. So I'll need an army to fix that. To make them trust me more. A dragon is a solid bargain. For the last three hundred years, it was armies that won war, not dragons. There's no way around it.” I explained myself, and she hummed.

“Have you thought of the Unsullied?”

“Have you decided to lend me ten thousand gold coins to buy them?”

She smiled cheekily and looked away. “Unfortunately, the money of the Church of Light isn't mine to spend, my dearest king.”

“That’s what I thought,” I shook my head and sighed. Even if she saw me as Ahor Ahai, she wasn't the only High Priestess in the world. She couldn't do as she pleased. Plus, I didn't want to rely on her too much. “I'm planning to take on the Second Sons.”

The Second Sons, like many mercenary companies, had a strong tradition of following strength and leadership. If someone defeated their leaders, it was likely that they would follow the new leader, as these companies respected power and the ability to command.

She raised an eyebrow at my words, and I explained, “Most members of the Second Sons are sons of landless lords or scions of houses to which they are not heirs. But the majority of them still want their names written off in the pages of history.”

“I am aware,” she nodded.

“If a king comes to them, bearing the blood of conquerors, praised by a High Priestess, an exiled prince with a dragon resting on his shoulders, he'd likely be able to earn their loyalty after defeating their leaders. Luckily I seem to fit all those criteria.”

“After defeating, you say,” she repeated. “Forgive my rudeness, my king, but as impressive as your spear’s performance in bed was, you aren't a warrior. Leaders of Second Sons are incredible warriors. I’ve seen them fight. You’re sure you’ll win?”

I smirked. She had seen nothing. Just my Inventory alone gave me a thousand tricks, but on top of that, I had direct strength too thanks to my STR Stat. I just have to raise it. And also Level Up.

“Kinvara,” I said, putting a hand under her armpit and raising her. She blinked. I held her in the air with one hand, near the window, and basically the one in control of her life and death. “I'm much stronger than you realize.”

“Ah…” she stammered, unsure what to say, and I put her down. My hand ran down her curves, and I smirked.

“But you're right. Strength alone doesn't win a battle. I'll train for a few days. In the meantime, find the Second Sons’ location for me. I'm sure your ears and eyes can pick up on that quite fast,” I ordered and watched her stare at me before she slowly nodded.

“As my king commands,” she smiled, her momentary uneasiness and shock melting in thin air, as she leaned up to kiss me and then walked away with a sway of her hips.

****

The next day, I heard the news.

Eddard Stark had been executed.

The entire Westeros was in uproar, and the effect even reached as far as Essos. It went to show how legendary that man was. Unfortunately, with this incident, the great tragedy of House Stark had begun.

I had made a decision since that day in the bath. I was going to take the Iron Throne, something that was rightfully mine. It was not a dream I'd have dreamt if I didn't have a dragon flying around my head right now, especially if I didn't have the System. But now, the decision was made.

I had met a pitiful end in my last life and was given a chance to live another. I was not going to settle for mediocrity when I had all the necessary cards to aim for the pinnacle.

So I did.

My goals had layers, but I didn't want to dream about the higher layers at the moment, as it would sound delusional. I'd keep my eye on the Iron Throne for now.

I trained in spearmanship for the next two weeks. Kinvara found me a good spearmanship instructor who could show me the ropes.

He was Braavosi and taught me the spear techniques of ‘Lightning Dance’. It was an Essosi Spear Martial Arts, primarily taught in Braavos. I assumed it was a family technique of the dance that Arya Stark learned, named ‘Water Dance’.

It was a weird thing and extremely hard to pull off. But thankfully, I wasn't a total newbie in the way of the spear. As useless as the original Viserys was, he'd received spear training when he was a kid.

That experience allowed me some edge on the lessons, and somehow I learned very fast.

At least, the instructor said I did. I didn't think he was giving mindless praise. He didn't know my identity, I was wearing a black hair wig, and he had no reason to give false praise.

“W-whoa!” The instructor gasped when I parried another of his attacks, sending him staggering back a little. “That… that was an impressive attack. You've come far, young man.”

We were in a small yard in the middle of the Red Temple, where we'd been training for the last few days. My teacher was no Barristan Selmy or any other legendary figure, but he taught the spear well enough. Spear was easier to learn than swords, and somehow I was learning it even faster.

I think it was my INT that helped me speed things up? I couldn’t be sure, but the results spoke for themselves. I was no master spearman yet, but this should be enough to defend myself with the blade without just hacking down on people.

Lightning Dance was a bit showy, which is the reason behind the ‘dance’ part, but I liked it. On top of that, as his praise left his lips, a System notification greeted me.

[Skill Spearmanship (C) has risen to Spearmanship (B)!]

When I first started taking these lessons, I finally gained a Skill on my own after hours of meticulous training. That proved that Skills could be earned if I spent enough time on them. Or maybe it was only limited to fighting techniques? I’d have to figure that out too.

“Thanks,” I said, bowing in respect as I dropped my spear. It was broken in two. Footsteps came from the hallways then, and Kinvara entered the yard. She smiled.

“It seems we don't need your lessons any longer, instructor,” she smiled at the instructor. Collect your payment from a servant. I have some private matters with Vis here.”

The Braavosi man bowed and then left.

Kinvara walked over, her steps slow, as she stopped in front of me. “You keep surprising me. He’s one of the best around, and his students usually spend years taking lessons from him.”

“I definitely haven't absorbed everything he can teach, but this should be enough,” I said. I wasn't being humble, either. It'd have taken me a few months to absorb all the things he could teach. The man wasn't lacking materials to teach.

“Oh?” She smiled. “I saw your fight, it was impressive. But are you confident you'd be able to win against the Second Sons without the full package?”

“I suppose you've found their location since you're talking like that?” I asked, prompting her to just smile in response.

****

The rhythmic thudding of hooves cut through the early dusk, the sounds dulled by the distant hum of the camp ahead. The Second Sons' encampment sprawled before us in a patchwork of tents and makeshift pavilions, smoke curling lazily into the sky from scattered fires.

It was a modest camp by the standards of Essos, housing only five hundred men, but the air of defiance and discipline that was in this place was unmistakable. Well, in some parts anyway. Most of them look far too lax.

Under their current leader, Mero, the Second Sons had fallen off their glory. Perhaps since there was no great war to fight in? They were too unruly. Although one part of the camp seemed to be training. Probably the Stromcrows, the team directly under Daario...

I shifted slightly atop the horse, eyes narrowing as I took in the movement beyond the camp’s perimeter. There were mercenaries lounging, sharpening blades, and some sparring shirtless in the warm evening. Those were strong warrior men.

“Despite being small in number, they're so notorious because of their discipline.” Beside me, Kinvara said as her crimson robes caught the fading sunlight. “Well, in the past, anyway.”

We weren't alone this time. The guards she had brought with her flanked us, their stony expressions hidden under helmets.

“Discipline in fighting perhaps, not in character,” Some might argue that I was the last person to talk about character, but as expected, soon a teasing whistle came from a wiry man leaning against a tent pole. He grinned with eyes glittering as he took in Kinvara.

Others followed a low chorus of chuckles and smirks spreading through the crowd. They were as unruly as the Stone Men we’d fought, with zero respect for a priestess.

Kinvara’s lips curled into a subtle smirk, unfazed. She didn't seem bothered. She knew what she showed, and she did so knowing that.

“Slow down,” I said to my Dany White, and it did. We were in front of the main entrance that loomed ahead, guarded by four men, their spears forming a cross that barred our path.

One of them stepped forward, his face lined with scars and suspicion. “No entry,” he growled. “The leaders are busy tending to an important guest.”

I blinked, barely concealing the flicker of curiosity. An important guest? Here?

Kinvara leaned forward, eyes sharp. “The High Priestess of the Red Temple requests an audience. Inform your leaders if they would choose to turn me away.”

The guard’s posture shifted, uncertainty creeping into his rigid stance. With a sharp nod, he turned and disappeared into the maze of tents, leaving us in a silence that buzzed with watchful eyes. The moments dragged, and I spent it looking around.

When he returned, his breath came in short gasps, eyes darting between us and the path behind him. “They will see you,” he said, stepping aside with a reluctant motion.

I exchanged a glance with Kinvara who nodded. I urged my horse forward, and she followed, her expression veiled with an air of indifference, though I’d come to know her well enough to sense the anticipation crackling beneath it. She was curious about the show that'd soon unfold.

Our protective guards led us, their presence a silent threat to anyone but us, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My mind was already sharpening, ready for battle.

The main tent came into view, larger and open at the sides, lit by braziers that cast flickering shadows across its worn canvas. I frowned at the sight ahead. A table stood at its heart, laden with an indulgent spread of fruits and half-drained goblets.

Around it sat three figures I recognized immediately—Mero, the Titan’s Bastard, who filled the space with his barrel chest and bellowing laugh. He was the leader, while the other two were lieutenants. First was Prendahl na Ghezn, his face as stern, and then was Daario Naharis, the future Queen Fucker.

None of them were unexpected. It was the fourth face that stopped me cold, and I felt a heat rise at the back of my neck.

It was a man not of Essos but Westeros, with broad shoulders, a tall neck, and a smile so charismatic that women would pass out on his feet. He was laughing with the others.

Prince Oberyn of Dorne.

The Pedro Pascal lookalike sat at ease, legs stretched and fingers wrapped around a goblet, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Beside him sat Ellaria Sand, her dark eyes dancing with amusement. They flicked at me, and her smile turned curious.

I controlled my expression. What's going on? Oberyn. The Red Viper. A man who had fought with the Second Sons before during his younger days, yes—but why was he here now?

Was this a coincidence, or had he come seeking me? That was impossible, nobody should know I was in Volantis. Even if someone learned it, it wasn't enough for him to come see me. And there was no way he knew about the dragons.

Logic said this was just a coincidence, indeed.

“The Second Sons,” when our horses stopped in front of the tent, Kinvara greeted the Second Sons with a smile.

They stopped chatting among themselves, and all turned to us. Prince Oberyn did the same, and his eyes found mine across the tent. He frowned with a confused look on his face as if he almost recognized me.

Almost.

He didn't.

I was glad. While I wasn't worried about him hurting me, if Prince Oberyn knew about me enough to come find me, what made it impossible for my enemies to do the same?

I heaved out a breath of relief.

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