Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 364: The Choice of Responsibility

Faced with the conditions Viserys had laid before him, Ned Stark felt utterly torn. In his thirty-odd years, he had rarely faced situations as complex as this. When he was barely a man, his father and brother were brutally murdered by Aerys, and he had done what any son and younger brother would—he sought justice and vengeance. After the Targaryens were overthrown, he returned to the North, content to be the Lord of Winterfell. He spent over a decade in relative peace, raising five children with Catelyn, until Lysa’s letter came, accusing the Lannisters of murdering his foster father.

Then Robert had brought news of Viserys's resurgence, and Ned found himself swept back into the realm of politics, internal unrest, and looming threats. He had followed Robert to King’s Landing, but what followed had spiraled beyond his comprehension. In just a few short years, Viserys had risen to power at a terrifying pace. What Ned had once thought was a simple conflict for the throne now seemed much more complex. The young Targaryen ruler wasn’t content with merely reclaiming the Iron Throne—his vision extended far beyond that.

"Can you tell me what you're really doing?" Ned asked, his confusion still evident.

"I’ve already explained," Viserys replied calmly. "This battle we’re about to fight—whether I win or lose doesn’t really matter. If the Reach wins, it’s just an added benefit. If you win, it won’t stop Robert’s eventual defeat. So, I’m asking you to take your army back to the North and prepare for what truly matters—the White Walkers. Even if you just cut down some trees and burn charcoal, that would be more valuable than wasting lives here for nothing."

Ned hesitated, torn between his loyalty to Robert and the growing threat that Viserys spoke of. He couldn’t easily dismiss the bond of friendship between him and Robert.

"Ned Stark! Are you going to commit treason?!" Stafford Lannister bellowed, his face flushed with anger. "Have you forgotten who killed your father and brother? His father—the Mad King Aerys!"

Viserys’s irritation flared at Stafford’s constant interruptions, but he restrained himself. They were negotiating, and killing Stafford now would only undermine his position. To bear the burdens of a nation, one must also bear its humiliations, he reminded himself. Being a ruler meant shouldering grievances, no matter how grating.

Viserys shot Stafford a cold look. "You’ll remain here and keep watch. When the time comes, I won’t spare a single Lannister."

His words chilled everyone present. The Targaryens were not known for eradicating entire families, save for Aerys’s single brutal act during the rebellion at the Vale.

"Your Grace Viserys," Ned began, his voice steady, "I advised Robert not to wipe out your House, and now I ask the same of you. I’m only here to offer my counsel."

He knew Viserys’s strength—his restraint was palpable. Though young, Viserys would never risk his reputation for impulsive actions. As for the White Walkers, they were likely real. Ned’s resolve began to waver. Winter is coming, he reminded himself, the Stark motto echoing in his mind.

Though his face remained stoic, his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. His eyes shifted across the river, where the seven dragons lay watching him, calm and non-threatening. Fish leapt from the water as a sudden gust of wind stirred the air. Moments later, raindrops began to fall, splashing onto the river and forming ripples on the surface.

Crack!

A thunderclap boomed overhead, and in an instant, the light rain turned into a heavy downpour. Everyone was soaked through. Stafford’s blood mixed with the rainwater, seeping across the deck of the boat. Hair stuck to foreheads, clothes clung to skin, but Ned and Viserys remained motionless, staring at each other through the storm.

Viserys extended his hand. Ned hesitated for a brief moment before grasping it firmly, sealing the pact.

As Ned and his party made their way back, the events that had just transpired felt surreal. Never before in Westeros’s history had such a pact been made between a northern lord and a Targaryen.

"You’re telling me that Viserys won’t cross the river until we leave?" Greatjon asked Rickard, still processing what had just happened.

Rickard glanced at Renly, who leaned weakly against the cabin, before replying, "You don’t grasp the weight of that oath. If Viserys keeps his word, it means that in the future, a Targaryen king can change the course of a war with just a single command."

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice so Ned wouldn’t overhear. "And compared to Robert, Viserys has shown far more consideration for the North’s interests. Shouldn’t we pledge our loyalty to a king like that?"

Rickard was impulsive and headstrong, but when it came to reading the situation, he wasn’t wrong. Viserys’s actions would significantly restore the Targaryens’ image in the North and re-establish the authority of the crown.

During Robert’s Rebellion, hardly any northern nobles had questioned their decision to side with Robert. The royal family’s decline had been one reason, but the Targaryen kings’ increasingly erratic and unworthy behavior had been another.

In truth, Ned had felt an overwhelming urge to kneel and pledge his loyalty the moment Viserys extended his hand. Loyalty to the king had always been a deeply ingrained moral duty for him. He could never have sworn fealty to Aerys, whom he—and most others—saw as a madman. As for Robert, he had grown up alongside him and knew exactly the kind of man he was, with all his flaws.

But Viserys was different. He genuinely impressed Ned. There were few rulers left who truly valued human life, and Viserys's offer addressed two major concerns that weighed heavily on Ned’s conscience. The first was his duty to Robert, and the second was House Stark's duty to the North. Normally, these responsibilities were in direct conflict, but Viserys had found a way to reconcile both.

By extending this risky offer, Viserys showed Ned what he believed a true king should be: someone who leads with foresight and honor. The young Targaryen embodied a kind of leadership that felt rare—almost noble in its simplicity. It was compelling.

Ned glanced at the frail figure of Renly, who looked like a shadow of his former self. He wasn’t willing to trade Renly for the safety of his wife and daughters, but the Red Viper—Oberyn Martell—was a different matter. Offering Oberyn as an exchange felt like the only way to repay Viserys for the trust he had extended.

Mace Tyrell, however, remained puzzled by Ned’s decision. He couldn’t fully understand the rationale behind it, and his expression darkened with frustration.

"Lord Mace," Viserys called, noticing the Tyrell lord's sulk.

Mace turned to him, but his face remained clouded, which only deepened Viserys’s concerns about the quality of the Seven Kingdoms’ nobility. In the annals of Chinese history, even a minor scholar-official could outmatch these men, Viserys thought grimly. They wouldn't even pretend to resist.

"You will leave a few thousand men here," Viserys continued, "but the rest should head to Silverhill or Hornvale to suppress the Westerlands’ forces."

Mace’s mood shifted, and his eyes lit up with understanding. Yes! Viserys had forbidden the Reach’s army from crossing the Mander, but he hadn’t said anything about crossing the Golden Tree or the Blackwater. If they could join forces with Randyll Tarly, they’d have a better chance at victory.

'So, Viserys, this was your plan all along?' Mace thought, his face brightening as the strategy unfolded in his mind.

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