Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 370: I Will Never Grant the Gods Absolute Authority Over Humans

No matter how strictly the High Sparrow held himself to the standards of an ascetic or even a septon, the gap between his power and the almost 'miraculous' strength Viserys had displayed was undeniable. It dawned on him that the king had red priests at his side, wielding powers that went beyond mortal comprehension.

No good! This is a crisis for the Seven Gods!

Though the High Sparrow still held his convictions like a hand of cards, Viserys’s abilities far exceeded his expectations. Meanwhile, under the relentless assault of the flaming creatures, the shadows of 'Robert' and 'Stannis' continued to shrink, their forms reduced to less than a third of their original size.

According to Viserys’s knowledge of the original timeline, these shadow assassins should have dissipated after completing their task. Yet, they had fought far longer than expected. Perhaps Melisandre paid a greater price this time, Viserys thought. That woman with two faces—preaching fate to others while desperately trying to alter her own prophecies.

The shadow killers, now small and weakened, seemed to tremble with fear. They began retreating, clearly intending to flee. Despite being restrained by the fire magic, they moved with alarming speed. Realizing they could not harm Viserys or Daenerys, the shadows “turned” and attempted to escape through a nearby window.

But they collided with an invisible barrier. Something unseen blocked their path.

So the dragon blood and mud actually worked, Viserys noted with satisfaction.

Seizing the moment, he lunged forward, grasping the shadows of 'Robert' and 'Stannis' in his hands. Flames surged from his fists, enveloping the shadowy forms. They began to melt, dissolving like ice under a hot sun.

As the black shadows shrank further, they were reduced to the size of mere rags. Finally, unable to maintain even their basic form, they collapsed completely and dispersed into nothingness.

The room was silent, everyone still reeling from the terrifying encounter. The High Sparrow, in particular, stood frozen, visibly shaken. What he had just witnessed seemed more like a miracle than any earthly power. The two shadows—manifestations of evil—had been vanquished before his eyes.

“Lord High Sparrow,” Viserys spoke, breaking the silence, “you saw it yourself. The faces of those shadows belonged to Robert and his brother. I trust you’ll let more of the faithful know the true nature of the false king.”

The High Sparrow hesitated for a moment, struggling to process the events. Slowly, he began to calm down, though the situation was still difficult for him to comprehend.

“Naturally,” he said after a pause, “Robert was a godforsaker. It’s no surprise that something like this occurred.” He gestured to the holy sisters and Septons behind him, seeking some semblance of composure.

"The people I brought are all devout believers of the Seven Gods. They will bear witness to this shameless attack," the High Sparrow declared, his voice steady but tinged with unease.

The holy sisters and Septons present slowly recovered from their shock. They had come with the firm intent of convincing Viserys to meet their demands, but the display of his power had shaken their confidence. No lives had been lost, but the battle they had just witnessed was far from pleasant. The unease lingered.

Viserys led the High Sparrow into a quiet anteroom. The two sat across from each other, alone—no maidservants, no guards. Even the furnishings were plain, a stark contrast to what one might expect from a meeting between two of the most powerful figures in the realms of the secular and the spiritual.

The High Sparrow, ever composed, made sure to restrain his every movement. "Your Grace, we are willing to limit the size of the Faith Militant to some extent, seeking only self-protection. As long as tragedies like Robert’s burning of the idols of the Seven Gods do not happen again, we will be satisfied."

Even after witnessing Viserys’s overwhelming display of power, the High Sparrow repeated his request. Viserys had expected him to offer something more substantial, perhaps a gesture of goodwill or assistance—especially considering the famine in King’s Landing, where many believers of the Seven Gods suffered. Viserys had hoped the Sparrow would propose a way to assist when the royal army moved on King’s Landing.

But instead, the High Sparrow made no mention of the larger issues, only pressing his own demand. Whether the man before him was a genuine believer or someone using the Faith as a tool to insert himself into the deadly Game of Thrones remained unclear. But Viserys knew that with his decades of experience in “reaching the grassroots,” the High Sparrow’s character and willpower were formidable. To confront him head-on would be draining, perhaps even dangerous.

Killing him outright would ruin the delicate political situation Viserys had worked so hard to create.

"My lord," Viserys said thoughtfully, leaning forward, "have you heard of the Long Night and the White Walkers?"

The High Sparrow frowned, glancing at Viserys with narrowed eyes. At first, he seemed dismissive—it had little to do with the Faith of the Seven, after all. But something about the gravity in Viserys’s tone made him pause. This was not idle talk. Slowly, he nodded, curious to hear more.

"I predict that within seven or eight years, the Wall that protects the Seven Kingdoms will fall," Viserys said gravely.

"When that happens, I hope all of us can unite against the coming threat. If you truly wish to expand the influence of the Faith of the Seven, you should recognize that, in this regard, your followers are far outmatched by the red priests."

The High Sparrow now understood Viserys’s message clearly: he had not yet proven his value. Moreover, Viserys did not see him as strong enough to gain what he desired. It would be difficult to achieve his goals.

But the Church still possessed something Viserys needed—its deep connection to the common people. As the High Sparrow had pointed out, he had traveled to every corner of the Seven Kingdoms. Viserys required that knowledge to better understand the villages and, more importantly, to counter the growing influence of the Red God’s faith.

“I will give you 100,000 pounds of grain,” Viserys said, his tone measured. “Use it to alleviate the hunger of the people. I will also send my own men to monitor and investigate the situation. Though I will not agree to the formation of a church army, I promise to fund the construction of ten holy temples across Westeros in the future.”

The High Sparrow’s heart lifted—this was an unexpected gain. But despite the offer of grain and temples, his core demand, the church army, remained unfulfilled.

“Your Grace,” the High Sparrow pressed, “do you truly distrust the church so much? We could pass legislation to prevent a repeat of what happened during King Maegor’s reign.”

Arrogant, Viserys thought as he eyed the man before him. His expression grew solemn.

“My lord High Sparrow,” he said firmly, “I will never grant absolute authority of God over man.”

“Grant... to God...?” The High Sparrow was taken aback. To hear this young ruler speak of “granting” power to God struck him as audacious, even mortal arrogance. He tried to respond cautiously, “Your Grace…”

But as he observed Viserys’s face, he realized there was no arrogance there. Instead, there was a calm—a stillness that resembled the reason and certainty of a mountain. It was as if Viserys had glimpsed a world where ‘gods and men’ could converse and even collaborate on relatively equal terms.

And not only had he glimpsed it—the High Sparrow began to wonder if Viserys had lived in such a world. Otherwise, how could he speak with such conviction?

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