How Does Westeros React To The Dragonborn In 'Dragonborn Comes'?

The arrival of the Dragonborn in 'Dragonborn Comes' sends shockwaves through Westeros, blending the mystical with the political. Nobles are divided—some see the Dragonborn as a potential ally against the White Walkers, while others fear their power could destabilize the already fragile balance of power. Smallfolk whisper about the Dragonborn’s Thu'um, rumors spreading like wildfire about voices that can shatter castle walls or summon storms. The Maesters of the Citadel are baffled, scrambling to reconcile this new magic with their rigid understanding of the world. Even the dragons seem restless, as if sensing a kindred spirit. The Dragonborn’s presence forces Westeros to confront the unknown, and reactions range from awe to outright hostility, depending on who you ask.

Westeros in 'Dragonborn Comes' reacts to the Dragonborn with a mix of fascination, fear, and political maneuvering. The North, hardened by legends of the Long Night, views the Dragonborn as a potential savior. Stark bannermen swap stories about the Thu'um’s power, comparing it to the old tales of Brandon the Builder. Meanwhile, in King’s Landing, Cersei sees only a threat—a wildcard that could undermine her grip on the Iron Throne. She orders the Mountain to test the Dragonborn’s strength, leading to a brutal clash that leaves the Red Keep’s courtyard in ruins.

The Free Cities across the Narrow Sea take a more pragmatic approach. Braavosi bankers send envoys, hoping to recruit the Dragonborn as a sellsword, while the Red Priests of R’hllor proclaim them Azor Ahai reborn. Even the Night’s Watch debates the Dragonborn’s role; some brothers argue their voice could bring down the Wall, while others believe it might seal the breach forever. The Dragonborn’s actions ripple through every corner of the realm, forcing factions to reconsider alliances and enemies alike.

What’s most intriguing is how the Dragonborn adapts to Westerosi politics. They don’t bow to kings or queens but negotiate as equals, using their reputation as leverage. The Dothraki, who respect strength above all, are among the few to show genuine admiration, offering a bloodrider bond. By the end, Westeros isn’t just reacting—it’s being reshaped, one shout at a time.

In 'Dragonborn Comes,' Westeros doesn’t just react—it *splinters*. The Dragonborn’s arrival exposes the continent’s fractures. The Brotherhood Without Banners sees a kindred spirit in their fight for justice, while the Faith of the Seven condemns them as a heretic. Even the Children of the Forest emerge from hiding, drawn by the Thu'um’s primordial magic. The Dragonborn becomes a mirror, reflecting each group’s hopes and fears.

Personal relationships steal the spotlight. Arya tries to learn the Thu'um, mimicking shouts in between water dancing. Tyrion, ever the scholar, badgers the Dragonborn for details about Skyrim’s governance. Daenerys, initially wary, softens when she realizes the Dragonborn understands the burden of power. But it’s the small moments that linger—a tavern singer turning 'Dovahkiin' into a drinking song, or a farmer leaving offerings to 'the loud god.' Westeros isn’t united in its response, but it’s undeniably changed.