"Your Grace Viserys, Princess Daenerys," the three men from House Hightower greeted them, initially uncertain of how to address Viserys. Should they stand firm on tradition and refuse to acknowledge his title? But with seven dragons watching, the men quickly decided to submit, calling him Your Grace without hesitation.
Viserys turned his attention to Septon Phornas, a grim expression on his face. "Septon Phornas, I bring terrible news."
Phornas and the others looked at him, confused and tense, wondering what Viserys could be referring to. At a signal from Viserys, Quentin stepped forward and began to unwrap the canvas covering one of the statues. Beneath it was a charred, blackened figure—barely recognizable.
Phornas stepped closer, squinting at the blackened statue, unable to immediately identify what it was. Viserys frowned, glancing at the ruined figure, then spoke.
"A few days ago, I led a large army to reclaim Dragonstone. In a desperate bid to destroy my fleet, Robert Baratheon hired a Shadowbinder from Asshai, a devotee of R'hllor. Under her influence, Robert burned the statues of the Seven Gods in the Great Sept of Baelor and used sorcery in an attempt to halt my forces."
Viserys's voice hardened as he continued. "These sacred statues have been desecrated, destroyed by the deranged usurper."
Phornas gasped, his face crumpling in anguish as the words sank in. He staggered toward the statue and, with a loud sob, threw himself onto it, clinging to the blackened remains as if holding onto the very soul of the Faith itself. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the soot that covered the statue, but he didn't care. In fact, he rubbed his face against the charred figure as though marking himself with the ashes of the destroyed gods. His cries echoed across the field, raw and guttural.
Others in the crowd, witnessing Phornas's grief, were soon overcome with emotion. This was Oldtown, a city steeped in the traditions of the Seven, and Viserys and Daenerys had come to pay homage, portraying themselves as devout followers. The news of Robert's sacrilege, in such a holy place, shattered the hearts of those present.
One by one, the Septons, nobles, and even commoners fell to their knees, weeping uncontrollably. Their sobs mixed with cries of outrage, and soon tears, snot, and dust coated their faces, making them look disheveled and broken. It wasn't just an act—many were genuinely horrified by Robert's actions. Their grief and anger were palpable.
"King Robert, why—!" one Septon wailed, his voice breaking.
"Usurper! The gods will not forgive you!" shouted another.
The crowd roared in agreement, their collective fury building like a wave. Oldtown's nobles and commoners soon joined in, many shaking with rage, while some fainted from overwhelming sorrow. Even the normally stoic Maesters, known for their rationality, showed unexpected emotion. Some clutched their hearts, their faces flushed with grief.
Viserys watched, surprised by the depth of the reaction. He had expected the Maesters to remain indifferent, but they were just as shaken as the Septons. In fact, some of the weaker members of the Faith wept so violently that their faces turned purple, and if not for the intervention of nearby healers, they might have succumbed to their grief.
It's no surprise, Viserys thought. Many of these Maesters are devout believers in the Seven. He had clearly underestimated their piety.
As he observed the scene, he realized that setting the Faith of the Seven against the followers of the Red God was entirely feasible. The Targaryens had always been tied to the Seven, and with the church's support, he could further weaken Robert's grip on Westeros.
Once the crowd's emotions had gradually settled, Viserys spoke, his voice clear and commanding:
"Believers of the Seven, in my attempt to prevent Robert from further desecrating the sacred statues, I led my fleet in a daring assault. Despite braving a storm of arrows and fighting a bloody battle, I arrived too late to save the idols from destruction.
Robert Baratheon, who was once blessed by the Septon as a child and baptized by the Seven on his name day, has lost his way. The Seven, in their mercy, must now look upon him with disappointment and sorrow.
And so, my sister, Daenerys Targaryen, and I—along with our seven dragons—have brought the remaining statues of the Seven Gods here to Oldtown, hoping to soothe their hearts and restore the Faith. We must take these idols to the Great Sept as soon as possible."
Viserys's words were calculated, contrasting his own reverence for the Seven with Robert's sacrilege. The difference between the two rulers was stark, and it wasn't lost on the crowd.
Emotion surged again, and a young man with brown hair, unable to contain himself, stood and knelt before Viserys. "Your Grace Viserys! Let me follow you! I'll help drive the usurper from the Iron Throne!"
Others quickly joined in. "Yes! Drive Robert away!"
"Capture the usurper alive and make him repent at the Great Sept!"
"Kill him! Kill him!"
The fervor had returned, and Viserys knew in that moment that his cause had gained a stronger foothold among the people. His calculated speech had worked, stirring their devotion and anger toward Robert.
But Viserys had been even more strategic than the crowd realized. His words carried a subtle message aimed at those with the keenest understanding of political nuance—people like Septon Phornas.
"When Robert was a child, he was blessed by the Seven, baptized by the Septon on his name day," Viserys had said. But there was a crucial detail he deliberately left out: on the day Robert became king, it was the Faith of the Seven that crowned him.
By omitting this, Viserys spared the Faith a direct confrontation with their own past complicity. The Faith had recognized Robert as their rightful king, and now, in light of his crimes, they too bore some responsibility for his actions.
The Bishops of the Starry Sept and the Great Sept of Baelor had risen to power during the reign of Aerys, and their hands were far from clean.
If they didn't want Viserys to turn his ire toward them, they would need to show their loyalty—and quickly. A complete break with Robert was the only way forward.
At that moment, Septon Phornas of the Starry Sept stood up, covered in black ash from the ruined statues. His sudden movement startled Lord Leyton, who was standing nearby.
Phornas raised his voice, the weight of his words echoing through the crowd:
"In the name of the Seven, I declare Robert Baratheon, son of Steffon Baratheon and grandson of Ormund Baratheon, godless! No follower of the Seven shall have contact with him, speak to him, or swear fealty to him. He who does so shall be anathema to the Gods!"
"Godless! Yes! Godless!" the crowd cried.
"Usurper! Godless!"
"Godless! Godforsaken!"
As Phornas took his stand, the crowd joined in fervently, their chants building into a thunderous chorus. By refusing to call Robert "Robert of the House of Baratheon," the Faith of the Seven had publicly severed its recognition of him as king. What had once been whispered behind closed doors was now proclaimed openly: Robert was no longer merely a rebel; he was an usurper—godforsaken in the eyes of the Seven.
This condemnation went beyond Robert himself. The entire Baratheon family was tainted, their legitimacy to rule the Seven Kingdoms shattered. Even the lords of the Stormlands would find it difficult to continue recognizing such a vassal.
With Robert denounced, it was time to affirm Viserys's rightful claim. Phornas stepped beside Viserys and addressed the crowd once more:
"Your Grace Viserys, heir to the Iron Throne, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms—he is the light of the Seven Gods! And Daenerys Targaryen, his sister, the Princess, shall rule the Seven Kingdoms by his side. She too is the light of the Seven!"
Phornas glanced at Viserys, trying to gauge his reaction. The faint smile at the corners of Viserys's mouth told him the king was pleased, but not entirely satisfied. Phornas knew he needed to offer more.
He pressed on, raising the stakes once again.