For a time, the streets of King's Landing were transformed into a massive hive of activity. More than 100,000 residents were recruited into the newly formed sanitation and cleaning teams. To aid their efforts, modern tools—sturdy brooms and brushes brought over from the other world—were distributed among the people. The citizens were organized into small, manageable teams, each operating under the firm but fair command of the Northern soldiers. They were assigned specific sectors, fanning out across the city to begin the monumental task of scrubbing away years of filth and neglect.
However, before the labor could truly begin, there was the matter of the people's strength. Most of these residents had spent weeks, if not months, on the brink of starvation. They were in no condition to sweep streets or haul refuse. To remedy this, Lucas—Jason's brother-in-law and a key coordinator in the logistical effort—gave the order to pull massive quantities of supplies from the barracks. Soldiers hauled out heavy bags of dehydrated vegetables and thousands of packages of instant noodles.
Massive cauldrons were set up directly in the middle of the various thoroughfares. As the water boiled, the smell of savory vegetable soup and the distinct, salty aroma of instant noodles began to drift through the alleyways. It was a scent that filled the city, reaching into the crumbling hovels and dark corners of the slums.
Men, women, and children emerged from their homes, clutching whatever bowls, cracked plates, or rusted tin cups they could find. They crowded around the enclosed cooking stations, their eyes wide and eager as they watched the steam rise from the pots. They stretched their necks, sniffing the air with a desperation that only the truly hungry can understand. They were like a tide of souls waiting for a miracle, yet the sight of the disciplined Northern soldiers guarding the cauldrons kept them in check. Despite their gnawing hunger, the residents waited with an honest, fearful respect.
The process was quick and efficient. "Line up! Get in line!" the soldiers shouted, their voices booming over the din of the crowd. They used the butts of their spears to gently but firmly push the surging mass of people into orderly rows. It took nearly half an hour of shouting and maneuvering, but eventually, the crooked lines stretched down the blocks.
As the soldiers began to serve the first portions, the sight of the shimmering, oily broth and the yellow noodles caused a ripple of excitement to pass through the crowd. The first man to receive his bowl didn't even wait for it to cool. He shoved a mouthful of noodles into his face, nearly burning his tongue, but he didn't care. "It's so good... gods, it's so delicious!" he managed to choke out between bites.
The enthusiasm was infectious. Voices rose from the lines as people urged those ahead of them to move faster. "It's almost my turn! Louise, hurry up, get the children ready!" a woman cried out.
"It smells like heaven," another whispered.
A father knelt beside his young son, blowing on a spoonful of broth. "Little Tom, eat quickly. Taste this. This is the food Dad just got for us. Eat up."
"Mom, I'm so hungry," a young girl cried softly. "I want the noodles. I want to eat now!"
Nearby, a grown man urged his elderly father to take the first bite. "You eat first, Father. This kind of food is unlike anything we've ever seen. Once you finish, I'll get back in the line for another. Look, the people from the North aren't stopping us from going back. They don't seem to care. I'll go again for you, just eat!"
The praise for the new king grew louder with every bowl served. A simple meal of boiled instant noodles had achieved what years of politics and wars could not: Jason had won the hearts of the people of King's Landing.
"Bless His Majesty Jason," a woman sobbed as she tasted the broth. "This is the best thing I've ever eaten in my life. This food is a miracle."
"Long live King Jason!" a man shouted, and soon the cry was taken up by dozens, then hundreds of voices. "Thank you, Your Majesty! May the gods watch over you!"
The soldiers maintaining order watched the scene with a mix of pity and pride. They saw people finish their portions and immediately circle back to the end of the line to bring food to their sick or elderly family members who couldn't leave their homes. True to Jason's orders, the soldiers did not stop them. The command had been clear: the food was free and the supply was, for all intents and purposes, unlimited. As long as there was no waste, the people could eat until they were full.
A steady stream of supplies continued to flow into the city. Cart after cart of vegetable packs and noodle boxes were transported to every district, ensuring the aroma of the other world's cooking continued to hang over the capital. On faces that had known only bitterness and exhaustion, long-lost smiles began to appear.
Daenerys Targaryen, mounted on her horse, rode through the streets accompanied by her inner circle. She watched the transformation of the city with a sense of wonder. Seeing the genuine joy on the faces of the thin, ragged civilians as they ate, the young queen couldn't help but feel a lightness in her own heart.
Varys, riding near her, observed the scene with his usual keen eye, though a rare look of contentment crossed his features. "His Majesty Jason possesses the ability to bring an endless bounty from his world," Varys noted softly. "These people will never have to know the hollow ache of hunger again. It is a beautiful thing to witness."
Ser Jorah Mormont let out a heavy sigh, his gaze lingering on a group of children laughing over their meal. "I must admit, Your Majesty... Jason may be the most qualified man to ever wear a crown. He provides what a king should." Jorah glanced cautiously at Daenerys before continuing. "Forgive me, but we cannot ignore the truth. We need the help of that other world. It isn't just King's Landing; all of Westeros is bleeding. There are thousands in every corner of the realm who are starving. If they are to be saved, it can only be through the resources of King Jason and Starfire City."
Beside them, Ser Barristan Selmy remained silent, but his expression spoke volumes. He had spent his life serving kings based on bloodlines and duty, but seeing the pure, unadulterated happiness of the common people moved him deeply. In his heart, the conflict over royal lineage was beginning to fade, replaced by a growing respect for the man who had actually fed the realm.
Daario Naharis, the leader of the Stormcrows, was less concerned with the morality of the situation, but he was a pragmatist. He had seen the devastating power of the modern artillery during the siege. He knew that against the weapons of the other world, traditional steel and bravery were useless. He looked at the prosperity Jason brought and knew, with a sinking certainty, that the era of the Targaryens as absolute rulers was likely over.
Quentin Martell felt the sting of disappointment more sharply than the others. His family had pinned their hopes on supporting Daenerys to regain their own political standing in the capital. Looking at the scene before him, he realized their leverage had evaporated. The people didn't want a restoration; they wanted the man who gave them the noodles.
Daenerys listened to the quiet observations of her advisors. She felt a strange mix of relief and melancholy. In truth, the burden of the crown had always been heavy, and she found that she didn't crave the power as much as she once thought. She remembered Jason's promise to her—that he would use the advanced technology of his world to build a better Westeros. He spoke of a world where people were fed, clothed, and healed by medicine that seemed like magic. This vision was so beautiful that she felt a sudden, impulsive urge to simply hand over her dragons and her armies to him and let him lead.
However, she was still the leader of a vast coalition. She represented the Targaryen name, the interests of the Free Cities, the Dothraki, and the people of Dorne. She couldn't simply walk away on a whim.
After the tour, they returned to the command camp established outside the city walls. Varys waited until Ser Jorah and the others had dispersed before quietly slipping into Daenerys's private tent.
"Lord Varys?" Daenerys looked up, her brow furrowing as she saw the Master of Whispers return. "Is there something else we need to discuss?"
The tent was quiet, occupied only by Daenerys and her loyal handmaiden, Missandei. Varys bowed low, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Your Majesty, I know the weight of the decision regarding your relationship with King Jason is heavy upon you. I have spent some time reflecting on how we might bridge the gap between your two forces. I have some thoughts I would like to share."
He glanced briefly at Missandei. Daenerys understood the unspoken request for privacy immediately. She turned to her friend and gave a small nod. "Missandei, please wait outside for a moment."
Once the young woman had exited the tent, Daenerys turned her full attention back to Varys. "Very well, Lord Varys. We are alone. Tell me what is on your mind."
She was anxious to hear his counsel. The future of the Targaryen legacy and the safety of the thousands who followed her across the sea depended entirely on how they navigated their alliance with the man from the other world.