GOT: Molten Crown

Because of his past life experiences, Viserys found it odd that no powerful city-states had ever risen along the Rhoyne River over the centuries.

Rivers and coastlines were essential geographic factors for the rise of great cities.

The Rhoynar people had once built many glorious cities along this river. Even the Free Cities, like Volantis, had established numerous colonies along the lower Rhoyne.

Viserys's instincts told him there had to be a deeper reason why no powerful settlements had emerged there in recent centuries.

Someone was pulling strings from the shadows.

If he could sever the hidden hand behind the scenes, he could carve out his own power base along the Rhoyne.

He turned to Oberyn and said sincerely, "Prince Oberyn, please explain in more detail."

Seeing everyone's attention shift to him, Oberyn cleared his throat and began, "You may not trust my experience as a mercenary in the Free Cities, but…"

He pointed to Norvos, located northeast of Gho Dhorro.

Norvos was one of the Nine Free Cities.

"My brother's wife, Lady Mellario, is from Norvos. She told me that the region destroyed by the Valyrians was home to two major ethnic groups—the Andals and the Rhoynar."

"That's perfect, isn't it? His Grace is the king of the Andals and the Rhoynar. Oh, and the First Men too," Ock muttered.

No one responded to him. Viserys gave him a look, and he fell silent.

Oberyn continued, "The conflict and strife between those two peoples have lasted for centuries. And because there are no natural barriers in the region, they often suffer raids from the Dothraki.

If you choose Gho Dhorro as the destination for your eastern migration, these two issues alone will be extremely difficult to deal with."

With Oberyn's assessment, most in the room were ready to dismiss Gho Dhorro as a viable option.

But Viserys saw opportunity.

He knew most people were simply trying to live their lives—dragged into conflict against their will.

With his ability to kill and absorb memories, he could quickly discover who was truly sowing chaos behind the scenes.

As for the Dothraki—

They were a nomadic people, reliant on their numbers and horses.

Their strength lay in their ability to move and hide in the vast Dothraki Sea, making them hard to track.

But that, too, was no problem for Viserys.

He could acquire the skills of the enemy through combat and swiftly train a cavalry force of his own.

The Dothraki Sea was vast, yes, but there were only so many places where they could hide. With his memory-absorbing powers, finding their hideouts would be easy.

It was the same principle that allowed Kublai Khan to launch rapid northern campaigns—natives knew where their enemies hid.

Viserys straightened his back and addressed the room.

"Lords and knights, why are we going to Essos?

Not to live like cowards. Not to become someone's dogs.

We are going to rebuild our strength, to drive out the usurpers, and avenge my brother.

Yes, building a power base in Gho Dhorro will be difficult—but all the easy lands have already been claimed.

If we refuse to bow to others, we must carve our own path with Iron and blood."

His violet eyes were sharp and determined. He radiated authority.

He couldn't reveal his ability to read minds and steal memories, so he had to rely on the reputation he'd built in past battles.

In the end, the council chose to follow him and take the gamble.

Of course, part of the reason for choosing Gho Dhorro was practical—there were tens of thousands of people and vast resources on Dragonstone that couldn't be moved all at once.

A scouting and pioneer team would be sent first.

If they succeeded in securing the location, more people and supplies could follow.

If the area proved too dangerous or unstable, they could still fall back and reconsider.

In short, under Viserys's insistence, they agreed to "test the waters," not plunge in blindly.

.....

"If only we could bring our fleet to Gho Dhorro," Ock muttered, looking at the surrounding map.

Everyone understood the implication.

Gho Dhorro was surrounded by the Little Rhoyne and Upper Rhoyne Rivers, and the main branch of the Rhoyne lay just to the south.

If the fleet could sail up the Rhoyne, the Targaryens' sphere of influence wouldn't be limited to Gho Dhorro.

They could even challenge Volantis, which called itself the Queen of the Rhoyne.

But Volantis controlled the river's mouth—the only passage through which the fleet could reach Gho Dhorro.

Even if Viserys offered them all the gold in the Targaryen treasury, the Volantenes would never agree.

"Your Grace," said the old crab, "I recommend we decommission part of the fleet. Many of our warships are either aging or retrofitted merchant vessels.

Scrapping them would preserve our treasury and free up funds for your future endeavors."

There was no doubt that the old crab was a stingy man.

To him, anything that didn't generate value was like a parasite on his skin—something that needed to be cut off.

Most agreed with his view.

Retiring outdated ships and maintaining only the main fleet was also a preparatory step toward a future invasion of Westeros.

Now that the decision to migrate east had been made, Viserys knew he had to personally visit Braavos.

At the beginning of a new campaign, resources would be scarce. Cooperation with Braavos and Pentos was essential.

As for whether the Sealord might seize him and sell him to Robert for a hefty price…

Viserys thought it unlikely.

The beggar king in the original timeline wasn't worth much because he posed no threat. Viserys, while still lacking the strength to rule, could certainly cause trouble.

So he couldn't assume the Sealord would simply let him come and go freely.

Viserys considered it carefully.

Braavos had been built by slaves who fled Valyria.

They had a natural distaste for any unified power. Once they despised the Targaryens for uniting the Seven Kingdoms—now they likely hated the Baratheons just as much.

Rather than kill Viserys for a one-time gain, it made more sense to work with him and keep bleeding Robert's coffers.

Braavosi merchants understood business. They would see the long-term benefit.

And so, Viserys decided to prepare for one month before setting out to meet with the leaders of Braavos and Pentos face to face.

However, Oberyn said he wouldn't be able to go.

"I had hoped you'd accompany me again. Is something urgent?"

Viserys asked. He had given a month of leeway partly to let Oberyn and Davos rest.

"Installing a new king. What else could it be?"

Oberyn said bluntly.

At that moment, Viserys's raid on Storm's End was still unknown to most of Westeros.

The general consensus remained that the Targaryens were finished.

Oberyn intended to return to Dorne and swear fealty to Robert.

As he said it, he observed Viserys closely, but was surprised when the young king picked up a piece of parchment and began writing.

Then he handed Oberyn a box filled with gold dragons and silver stags.

"Who's this for?" Oberyn asked.

"There's a secret tunnel near the Rivergate. Leave this box there. My contact in the Red Keep will retrieve it. If you want any information, you can also speak to him.

He's a mute stableboy. Mention my name, and he'll help you."

Oberyn looked at Viserys with astonishment. He was beginning to see just how much lay beneath the surface of this young king.

"No need to guess," Viserys said. "He used to work for Varys. I killed Varys. Now he works for me."

"You killed Varys?!"

Oberyn gasped, nearly shouting.

Viserys waved his hand, indicating he didn't want to discuss it.

Oberyn noticed the letter had no envelope—Viserys clearly wasn't afraid of him reading it.

He opened it. At the top of the parchment was the image of a spider pierced by an arrow.

Oberyn stayed on Dragonstone for a few more days before leaving. The infamous Red Viper, known for his cunning, spent nearly every waking hour doting on Elia.

One day, he placed baby Aegon on the table. The infant happened to grab a toy shaped like a spear and pointed it at Oberyn.

The next moment, he sprayed Oberyn in the face with a stream of urine.

Instead of being angry, Oberyn laughed out loud.

He knew nothing of Lyanna's existence.

Viserys had decided not to reveal that she was still alive until they had secured their footing in Essos.

Within just a week, the tale of Viserys's daring assault and the destruction of Storm's End's fleet had spread across half of Westeros.

And the rumors were outrageous.

Some said Viserys was the incarnation of the Storm King himself, and that he had summoned the tempest to destroy the traitors and usurpers.

That his own fleet had emerged untouched from the storm.

Robert, of course, didn't believe any of it.

He was Baratheon—the true Storm Lord. That title wasn't for Viserys.

What he truly mourned was his lost fleet.

At that moment, Robert sat in the royal council chamber, growing increasingly irritated by the endless bickering.

"Your Grace, Lord Stannis has arrived."

The moment he heard his useless brother's name, Robert roared at the top of his lungs, his voice ringing through every corner of the hall:

"Send that useless fool in already!!!"

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