The bells of King's Landing tolled not for grief, but for victory.
Word had arrived that morning from the Stepstones: the war was over. The Crabfeeder was dead. The Sea Snake's fleets were victorious. But the most astonishing tale was not that Daemon Targaryen had taken the final blow — it was that the campaign had shifted entirely after a masterstroke of strategy from Rodrik Arryn.
In the Red Keep, the Small Council chamber buzzed with hushed excitement and murmurs.
Viserys sat at the end of the long table, visibly lighter than he had been in months. The king leaned back with a goblet of wine in hand, letting the warmth of victory wash over him.
"It is done," he said with a smile, eyes crinkling. "My brother is safe. The realm has one less boil upon its backside."
"And House Arryn," Ser Lyonel Strong said respectfully, "has proven itself more than capable of decisive leadership."
Otto Hightower, ever cold and composed, cleared his throat. "Your Grace, while we all celebrate the victory, it must be noted that Lord Rodrik acted unilaterally. He committed troops and resources to a campaign without the permission of the crown."
Viserys' smile faltered.
"Unilaterally?"
"He gave aid to your brother, yes," Otto continued. "But without informing you or seeking permission. Had this failed, it would be a stain upon your reign, not his."
The room tensed. Even Lyonel Strong looked uneasy.
Viserys looked into the fire for a moment, expression unreadable. Then he sighed.
"Summon him," he said, voice low. "Let us speak with Lord Rodrik."
The Summoning
Rodrik Arryn entered the chamber with practiced grace. His doublet was deep blue, embroidered with silver falcons, his face composed and alert. Jaymee walked behind him, ever the shadow and shield.
Viserys studied him for a long moment.
"The hero of the Stepstones," he began with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Walks into my court like a man returning from a hunt."
Rodrik bowed.
"Your Grace. I acted in the interest of the realm and your kin."
Viserys raised a hand to silence Otto, but his eyes did not leave Rodrik's. "You've made many decisions without my permission—implementing sweeping reforms, war against the mountain tribes, and now waging war in the stepstones without my consent."
Rodrik's breath caught. He had expected some pushback from Otto, but not from Viserys himself.
"Was I wrong to serve?" Rodrik asked carefully.
"No," Viserys answered after a pause, descending the throne steps. "But service must come with humility. And accountability. You have ambition, Lord Rodrik—of that, no one doubts. The question is whether that ambition serves the realm or yourself."
Rodrik straightened. "Then give me the chance to prove it does, Your Grace."
Viserys nodded, as if expecting that response. "You shall. From this day forth, you will serve on my council as Master of Constructions. You are to remain in King's Landing until further notice. You will oversee the sanitation, infrastructure, and overall development of the city. The capital's roads, drains, waterworks, housing—everything. Until the streets of King's Landing feel like flowers beneath our feet, you will not leave."
Rodrik gave a slight nod, concealing the surprise flickering in his eyes.
Viserys's tone sharpened. "And all of it—you will fund from your own coffers. Until I see tangible results. Only then will the crown consider allocating further support."
Gasps rippled through the hall. Otto looked smug. He leaned toward Alicent, whispering, "A noble endeavor... but a humbling one."
Rodrik bowed low. "Then I shall lay stones and cut roads until King's Landing stands proud in your name, Your Grace."
Viserys smiled faintly. "We shall see, Lord Rodrik. We shall see."