Inside the throne room of the Red Keep, everyone had gathered to witness a miracle.
Even young Sansa, though something of a hopeless romantic, was quite intelligent.
After hearing her mother's explanation, she had a rough idea of the miracle that was about to unfold.
The throne room was filled with the great lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms.
First, there was her own father, Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, standing to the king's left.
His face remained as expressionless as ever, as though eight years of endless summer had failed to melt the ice in his heart.
Standing at the king's right was the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn.
Though he appeared even older than Maester Luwin of Winterfell, his spirit remained remarkably vigorous.
King Robert's two brothers were also present: Renly of Storm's End and Stannis of Dragonstone.
Compared to the balding Stannis, Sansa much preferred Renly.
He often brought her little gifts whenever he visited.
Then there was perhaps the most imposing lord in the hall— Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West.
It had been Tywin who had taken King's Landing for King Robert, making Robert's victory possible.
Looking at the stern old lion, Sansa could not help feeling intimidated.
Tywin had shaved his head completely bald.
Yet no one dared mock him for it.
His heavy brow cast deep shadows over his eyes, making even a passing glance from him enough to leave people uneasy.
He was the queen's father.
Sansa looked toward Cersei, seated among the noble ladies with her golden hair gleaming, then at Joffrey standing beside her.
Tall for his age, with golden hair and emerald-green eyes...
From certain angles, he looked almost identical to his uncle, Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard.
To appearance-conscious Sansa, Jaime was the very image of a handsome knight.
She often imagined that one day Joffrey would grow into another Jaime.
And she...
A red-haired queen resting in his embrace.
Together they would have countless princes and princesses.
The thought brought a blush to her cheeks and an embarrassed smile to her lips.
Fortunately, Sansa had received excellent instruction in courtly manners. She knew she should smile—and nothing more—on such an occasion.
Taking a quiet breath, she calmed herself.
In truth, all the assembled lords and ladies were merely spectators. The man about to demonstrate the miracle was a Red Priest from Myr.
Sansa remembered his name.
Thoros.
He sat cross-legged in the center of the throne room with his eyes closed, waiting for the messenger to return from Braavos.
"The messenger has returned!"
Robert's squire, Lancel, called out loudly from the entrance to the hall.
A blond attendant entered carrying a box about the size of a human head.
Every eye in the room fixed upon it.
Several guards immediately stepped forward, shielding Thoros's view.
Lancel carried the box to the foot of the Iron Throne.
Ordinarily Jaime would have presented it to the king. But after losing a hand to the Mad King, the task fell instead to Eddard.
Ned accepted the box and presented it to Robert.
When the lid was opened, it revealed seven gemstones of different colors, a jeweled dagger with a golden scabbard, a sealed letter, and a golden sculpture of a human head.
Judging from its features...
It was unmistakably Viserys.
Robert took the letter and broke the seal himself.
There were no words inside.
Only a painting.
It depicted Robert defeating Rhaegar at the Battle of the Trident. In the image, Robert's warhammer smashed into Rhaegar's chest.
Countless rubies burst outward like a rain of blood.
As Robert examined the painting, Ned naturally saw it as well. He passed the box toward Jon Arryn.
The old Hand merely glanced inside before indicating he had seen enough.
Ned then handed it to Ser Barristan, who presented it to Tywin.
With a sharp metallic ring, Tywin drew his sword. The sound echoed throughout the throne room.
Everyone inhaled sharply.
Using the tip of his blade, Tywin stirred through the contents of the box before signaling for it to be passed onward.
Renly.
Stannis.
Edmure.
The assembled lords and ladies each inspected the contents before the box was finally sealed once more.
The soldiers surrounding Thoros stepped aside.
Robert spoke.
"Thoros, tell us what is inside the box."
Thoros opened his eyes and addressed the gathered nobles:
"Inside the box are seven gemstones. They are red, blue, black, yellow...
There is also a golden likeness of Viserys's head.
A jeweled dagger with a golden scabbard.
And a letter.
Inside the letter is a painting depicting King Robert defeating Rhaegar upon the Trident."
He described every single item without the slightest mistake.
The assembled lords and ladies were utterly astonished.
During the past several days, every movement Thoros made had been monitored personally by Barristan.
He had possessed absolutely no opportunity to communicate with anyone.
The box itself had been brought directly from Braavos by Robert's own messenger.
There was only one possible conclusion.
The Red Priests truly possessed some mysterious means of communicating across vast distances.
Which meant...
Everything they had claimed was true.
Viserys had truly incurred the wrath of their god, the Lord of Light. And now that god had chosen to destroy House Targaryen.
"Your Majesty," Thoros said after proving his claim, "do you now believe in the Lord of Light's determination to destroy the Targaryens?"
All eyes turned toward Robert.
This was no ordinary trick. It was a genuine miracle performed before everyone present.
The old gods? The Seven?
For centuries...
Nothing. Not a single sign.
But the Lord of Light? When he promised a miracle, he delivered one without hesitation.
Robert remained silent for a long while.
Then he asked:
"Thoros, you once told me that if I offered the statues of the Seven as sacrifice to the Lord of Light, he would grant me an invincible sword."
"Was that true?"
Thoros rose to his feet and spread his arms, displaying his crimson robes.
"This robe was bestowed upon me by the Lord of Light. No blade can pierce it. No fire can consume it.
Your Majesty has witnessed this personally.
If you offer him the idols of the false gods... He will grant you an invincible holy sword."
Their conversation filled many in the hall with unease.
Especially those devoted to the Faith of the Seven.
South of the Neck and north of the Prince's Pass, belief in the Seven dominated nearly every corner of Westeros.
Catelyn was among its most faithful followers.
Tywin's late wife, Joanna, had been equally devout.
Both Eddard and Tywin had built private septs within their castles solely for their wives' prayers.
The Faith of the Seven had shaped both Andal culture and the kingdoms of Westeros themselves.
Even Aegon the Conqueror, after arriving atop his dragons, had journeyed to Oldtown to be crowned according to the rites of the Seven in order to legitimize his rule.
Several Targaryen kings had likewise been devout followers.
Foremost among them was Baelor the Blessed.
To demonstrate his piety, he had walked barefoot all the way from the Crownlands to Dorne.
And now...
The King of House Baratheon intended to sacrifice statues of the Seven to a foreign god.
Many simply could not accept it.
Sansa noticed the panic in her mother's eyes and looked at her anxiously.
Catelyn stared at Robert with an expression that was almost pleading.
Her carefully arranged noblewoman's hairstyle trembled ever so slightly, as though willing the king to change his mind.
Many noble ladies shared the same desperate hope.
Standing not far from Robert, Eddard caught his wife's pleading gaze. There was nothing he could do.
This was the king's decision. A decision that would determine the fate of the realm.
If Viserys truly restored House Targaryen...
The Tullys.
The Baratheons.
The Lannisters.
The Arryns.
Ancient houses that had endured for thousands of years... Would all cease to exist.
Nor were the noblewomen alone in their concern. Many martial nobles also worshipped the Seven.
Ser Barristan was among them.
The very institution of knighthood in Westeros had grown from the traditions of the Faith.
Before being knighted, every candidate spent an entire night alone in a sept after being anointed with holy oils and clothed in simple wool.
If Robert abandoned the Faith of the Seven in favor of the Lord of Light... Many knights might no longer remain loyal to the Crown.
The royal family itself could become estranged from the people of Westeros.
Yet after years of serving Robert, Barristan knew the king all too well. Once Thoros had demonstrated an undeniable miracle...
A Robert Baratheon driven nearly to madness by Viserys would never refuse such power.
As expected...
Robert ignored every concerned expression around him.
It was true that most people in the Seven Kingdoms worshipped the Seven.
But those who stood at the pinnacle of power often cared very little for faith itself.
After a moment's consideration, Robert reached his conclusion.
If the Lord of Light could bring him victory... Then there was nothing wrong with making him the new faith of Westeros.
The king rose from the Iron Throne and drew his sword.
Facing the assembled lords and ladies, he proclaimed,
"I, Robert Baratheon the First, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, hereby declare...
From this day forward, the royal house shall bask beneath the glory of the Lord of Light.
Only the Lord of Light can lead us through disaster and beyond the Long Night.
The Seven are false gods.
I shall expel every septon and septa from my realm.
Every sept devoted to the Seven shall be converted into a temple of the Lord of Light."
Watching this unfold, Barristan lowered his head in quiet resignation.
The miracle of the Lord of Light had been overwhelming. He had known exactly where Robert's path would lead once he witnessed it.
Next, the king would dispatch Red Priests to Highgarden and Sunspear, demanding that they join the war against Viserys.
At that very moment... From the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros to the Nine Free Cities of Essos...
A vast net had begun to close around House Targaryen.
The trap had already been cast.
And it was descending upon the dragons, who remained completely unaware.
House Targaryen now stood in even greater peril than it had ten years before.
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