A Game of Thrones: A Stark Shard.

[Sceonn]

He possessed a Valyrian steel suit of armor, making him almost impenetrable,

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Yup, almost impenetrable. Not quite Alexandria almost impenetrable though.

Taylor could control some sea creatures too like crabs and lobsters etc... That's another avenue to attack from, boring holes through their longboats. And Swordfish are quite a bit scary too.

This insult won't stand; they will pay for the blood they shed, and we will defeat them—I was sure of that.

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God, the sheer insult of daring to defend themselves and beat off our surprise attack. Intolerable!

 

[InfinityReads999]

Author's Note:
This chapter kicked me in the nuts, but I hope I showed how useful it is to have the Green Men aiding in battle. Also, this chapter will be the last one in the Riverlands for a while, as I don't want to clutter my fic with only this kingdom. The next chapter will be Kingslanding Interlude.

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Edmure Tullys.


Mummers Ford.


It had been more than three weeks since we had left Riverrun, and we finally reached the castle. Thanks to the green men, we had been able to approach secretly, and I could not thank them enough for that.


Lord Sylvyrn had been of so much help; he and his people, with their warg abilities, were the best damn scouts I could imagine. Being able to control and see through the wildlife was a life changer. Still, even that was nothing compared to being able to control nature. Even after seeing them change the terrain many times, I still could not believe my eyes.


But even with all of these advantages, I was nervous about attacking Jaime's host. He was a renowned soldier, one of the best the Seven Kingdoms had to offer. While he was untested—since all of the battles he had fought, he had just won by overwhelming our numbers or just by the threat of his father and his rabid dogs—so was I. Besides the defense of Riverrun, I had not participated in any battle of this size, let alone importance.


Either way, I could not deny the feeling it gave me. I was nervous, afraid, but most of all, excited. The Lannisters had burned the Riverlands for nothing more than an insult to their name, and if what my good brother had found was true—which I had all the reasons to believe—they did it for naught. If Joffrey Baratheon was a bastard and worst of all, the result of a union between the Kingslayer and the queen, the realm would not have accepted him as a ruler.


This war was bound to happen either now or in ten years, and while the Lannisters got to the Riverlands unimpeded, it was time to root them out of my lands. According to the ravens, the few green men that stayed in Riverrun said my father's health had been improving drastically the last couple of days, and while it was true that he wasn't long for this world because of his age, at least he had some more years to live.


This conflict taught me the importance of vigilance and being ready for anything, and it showed me that I was not ready to lead the Riverlands. For that reason alone, if I managed to keep my life after this battle, I vowed to study under my father to become the best lord that I could be. The Riverlands deserved the best, and with Robb's help, I was sure we could rise to new heights.


Standing up from my mattress inside the main tent some miles away from the Lannister host, I prepared myself to do what I must. The news of Robb's victory against Tywin was already moving through the lands, and the morale of my soldiers soared fast after hearing that. While he was only the King of the North at this moment, I was sure that was going to change in the near future. The lords of the Riverlands did not want Joffrey as a king, nor anyone whose name wasn't Stark.


I had already heard about some of the lords whispering amongst themselves that they would bend the knee when we reunited with him. He had earned their respect, and with that victory, he showed that he was someone worth following.


Smiling at that thought, I prepared myself, calling for my squire to help me don my armor. Lance had been a foot soldier during the siege of Riverrun, having gone against the wishes of his family just to help his liege lords during the lowest point of our family. He was born of some merchant and a servant, and he left behind his—while not rich—at least tranquil life to help our family. He showed strength and honor while doing so; because of that, I decided that he would become my squire. He deserved it, and I would make sure to teach him everything I could before my passing.


"You called for me, my lord?" Lance asked; only his head could be seen through the curtains.


"Yes, Lance. I need help donning my armor," I replied, finishing changing my tunic.


"At once, my lord," he said while going back to the armory.


While I waited for him, I thought back to the strategy we would use during this battle. While Mummers Ford was a strategic location, the keep by itself wasn't big enough for his host. For that reason, they took it and set camp outside. Our main focus would be to bait them to attack us, where the green men would work their magic to defeat the cavalry, leaving only the infantry intact. My host was already greatly outnumbering Jaime's, and we had the surprise on our side.


Ever since Lord Sylvyrn and his companions connected themselves to the weirwood of Pinkmaiden, he had been able to call fog to hide our traces. The land of Mummers Ford and its surroundings was wet and soft thanks to the rain they had called, so we had at least that advantage.


Before I could continue, Lance came back carrying my armor and stepped inside my tent.


"My lord, let me help you," he said and started doing so.


"Are you ready for today, lad?" I asked.


Lance nodded with a dumb smile on his face and a frown, slapping the back of his head softly while I chided him. "War is no game, lad. I want you to be alert all the time. I didn't make you my squire for you to die in the first open battle."


"My apologies, my lord," Lance said while lowering his head and finishing helping me. The weight of my armor gave me a weird feeling of courage that wasn't there before, and I nodded to myself.


"It's time to face the Lannisters, lad. Go get ready and meet me in the war tent," I said authoritatively, forcing my doubts to the back of my mind. There was no time to hesitate right now; I just needed to make the Lannisters pay for their sins and grab as many hostages as I could while keeping my men alive, something easier said than done but I would give it my best.


Nodding at the soldiers preparing their utilities one last time before the battle, I tried to gauge their morale and spirits, and I was happy with what I saw. Everyone I could see was trembling with emotion; some were scared, of course, but even they were anxious to shed some golden cunt blood. After everything they had done to our lands, I could understand it, and to be honest, I was feeling the same.


Arriving at the tent, I nodded at the guards located at the entrance before joining the rest of the lords. Lord Vance, Lord Mallister, and Lord Blackwood were already inside, talking in hushed voices.


"My lords," I greeted them, "Everything is ready for today's battle?"


The lords nodded with bloodthirsty smiles on their faces, and I could feel a tug on my lips at that. We were ready; no amount of planning would improve what we had already done, so we just needed to wait.


"Edmure, what about our friends from the Isle of Faces?" asked Jason with a frown. "I expected them to be here already."


Sighing, I replied, "Lord Sylvyrn and Lady Elyndra stayed in Pinkmaiden along with the most powerful warg, since they are at their strongest there. The rest will follow my orders, at least during this battle."


Jason Mallister nodded in agreement. "Even if what they can do scares me and I know it will be difficult to normalize it with the smallfolk, I can't deny that having them on our side lifts my spirit."


Lord Vance shook his head with a smirk. "I can't wait to see the smirk on Jaime's face disappear when he sees what they are capable of."


"The cunt deserves it," Tytos Blackwood grunted, "but I'm afraid that after this we will have extra problems."


I frowned at hearing that. "What do you mean, Ser Tytos?"


"What do you think the vipers of King's Landing will do after their help gets annihilated?" he scoffed. "My family has a history with the royal family, and I'm sure they will twist the truth to their gain. Mark my words, lad. The Faith will be against King Robb after the Lannister defeat."


Lord Mallister nodded with a grim face. "Aye, that's true. But there is one thing you are forgetting, Tytos."


Ser Blackwood lifted his eyebrow. "Oh? What can the Young Wolf do against the smallfolk without looking like a tyrant?"


Jason snorted. "He does not need to do anything. You need to remember that while his gifts can bring death to the lands, he can also help the people with them. I know the lad, and he is as honorable as his father, with the ruthlessness of the Starks of old. I'm sure he can manage to deal with it before the first crops start feeding the smallfolk."


Ser Tytos nodded. "I still haven't seen his magical fertilizer at work, but if he manages to do the same in the Riverlands as he did in the North, I'm sure he can gain the trust of the smallfolk. As for the lords, only the most zealous of them might be a problem."


Lord Vance continued with his usual blunt tone. "Aye, but for the rest of us, I'm sure he already won the respect he needed for us to bend the knee. I'm already considering it."


"Robb is no fool; I'm sure he will surpass this kind of political move. As much as the Lannisters think they can control the narrative, actions speak louder than words," I concluded, and the conversation about that came to a halt.


Taking a spyglass, I observed the Lannister host some miles away from where we were preparing. The site was foggy, but I could see the silhouettes of their army.


"They do not know where we are," I smiled. "It's time we show them why attacking us was a bad idea."


Banging their heads on the table, the rest of the lords stood up and began calling for their men.


Jaime Lannister


Lannister Camp, Mummers Ford.


I was feeling a foreboding sense in my whole being—nothing that I could explain. We heard the news about Father's host, but that was something hard to believe. It was impossible that a green boy like Robb Stark could defeat my father in battle, and the less said about the most outrageous tales, the better.


Tales about how Robb Stark set the field ablaze with wildfire, how he killed so many people in the battle called the "Massacre of Riverrun," how the sky dimmed in his presence. It was a high tale and not something I believed in. It was impossible; magic was gone from the world after the death of the last dragon. Everyone accepted that, and while in the North such things were more common, here in the South it was almost impossible to accept.


I remember seeing Robb Stark during the royal visit to Winterfell, and while I didn't interact with him much aside from some japes, he left a deep impression on me. But none of what I saw hinted at what the smallfolk were saying about him now.


Even back then, he had been a promising fighter. With three and ten name days, he was capable of injuring a Kingsguard—one that, while not giving his all at that moment, was an achievement of its own.


To be honest, I regretted starting this war. The secret between Cersei and me was found by the previous hands, and the honorable fool Ned Stark wasn't capable of seeing the problems making it public would cause. And here we were, burning through the Riverlands at my father's orders to sow fear into our enemies.


He thought that he could repeat the Rain of Castamere so that the rest of the realm would leave King's Landing alone, and while he could probably do so, it was too late now. With both Baratheon fighting for the throne, the North doing the same, and the Riverlands following Robb Stark, our actions didn't surprise me. After taking control of the Small Council for so many years after Cersei's wedding, we weren't liked by the rest of the kingdoms.


I understood what Father said about the lion not caring for the opinions of the sheep, but I knew he was wrong. We did not have dragons like the Targaryens, and being cruel and sadistic only stopped cowards from rebelling. But if it was true that the Young Wolf had Father as a hostage, it would all crumble under them.


The main defense our house had was that we were infallible and unbeatable, but if that failed, other people would get ideas. While the Westerlands were tight, and most houses would follow us, I was sure we would see a decline in support after the news reached there. And with Stannis, Renly, and that Targaryen already preparing to march, the Westerlands would become afraid.


It was different in the rebellion, where Father stayed neutral until the end of the war. At that time, besides myself, the rest of my family had the option of saving their strength until the last moment. But now? Now we were the first to march; the levies were tired, and we had been on the move for over a month. While our advance to the Riverlands had stopped, I knew that our men hadn't rested enough.


"I don't like this, not one bit," said Lord Leo Lefford while shaking his head. He had been morose ever since the news of Father's defeat at the hands of the Starks since the most probable move after that would have been to attack the Golden Tooth, where his wife was alone with only some defenses mounted. And while the castle was said to be impenetrable, Robb Stark had already defeated two houses famous for the same thing.


While the Freys were a disgrace, the Twins were not. In his place, I would have absolutely no idea how to enter the castle if the Freys were against me without wasting so much time on a siege trying to starve them. And the less said about the Boltons, the better. I remember seeing Roose Bolton during the Greyjoy Rebellion, and he gave me the creeps.


From what I knew about their history, which admittedly was not much, the Dreadfort was another impenetrable fortress with cruel and sadistic people inside. Robb Stark had been capable of spiriting away the lord and his only remaining heir without the guards noticing.


"We already sent a raven to the Golden Tooth, my lord," Ser Falwell nodded at him, understanding his preoccupation with the situation. "There is not much more we can do from where we are; we just need to pray to the Seven for their safety."


Lord Lefford sighed but nodded at him. "Aye, we can just hope to continue with this madness." After that, he took a seat in the main tent, and I couldn't help but frown upon hearing this. I knew people from the Westerlands mainly followed the Lannisters because of the fear Father had instilled in them with all his actions, and while most of them didn't believe that this was the best course of action, they would continue supporting us. But Father's defeat had happened at the worst possible moment. Everyone had heard about the Hour of the Wolf and knew what the Starks did with their enemies. If Eddard Stark was the one leading the army, I would not be that afraid because he wouldn't harm the hostages more than needed; his son was different.


He was mostly an unknown, and that scared our followers. And the damn environment did not help at all.


"Fuck this shit," snorted a Braavosi sellsword Father had bought. "This shit is unnatural—the rain, the fog? Something evil is going on."


I nodded at that; I also didn't like it one bit. It's been days since it started raining, and it was almost impossible to see far away. The soil was soft thanks to the rain, and it would be difficult to defend ourselves if we wanted to.


Looking for something to do, I started examining the map of the Riverlands. We hadn't been able to advance more, and since the news, we had stopped moving at all. The fort was only being used to safeguard the important equipment and foodstuffs; most of the levies were camping outside.


"What the fuck is happening?" exclaimed Tygett Lannister with urgency. He had been getting antsy for a while, and my boneheaded uncle was itching for a fight.


I stood up and tried to see anything of note, and I gasped in surprise, seeing the fog receding.


"Fuck… I knew this fog was not natural… Magic is real," murmured Lord Lefford.


Across the field, we could see countless men of the Riverlands marching toward us, and we weren't prepared for that.


"Blow the horns!" I shouted, running back to my tent to get my armor and weapon. "Prepare our men!"


Before long, most of the Lannister forces were arranged in their classic blocks, the infantry in front with the cavalry at their sides, hoping to find opportunities for pincer attacks.


In the middle of the levies stood the sellswords—the people we would miss the least if something went wrong. Loyal only to the highest bidder, and in Westeros that meant the Lannisters.


"Look at their feet," Lord Lefford said haltingly. "I am completely sure the soil over there was as moist as this one," kicking his feet in demonstration, the squelching of his soles against the mud obvious.


"Vile sorcery," spat the general of the sellswords. "We hold the high ground; we better stay put over here."


Ser Tygett snorted disdainfully. "Edmure Tully is a weak lord. I'll take the cavalry to him and defeat him."


I frowned; I didn't want him to do that, but I knew better than to voice my opinion. When he gets in this mood, he would hear none of it. "Are you sure, uncle?" I asked one last time.


"If you are afraid of parlor tricks, be my guest. I will not stay put when they have my brother hostage," he scowled.


Edmure Tully.


We were finally here, and it was time to show my worth. Our bannermen were gathered in the middle, with the Northerners at attention on the sides, waiting for their opportunity. I would need to ask Robb how he had taught them; they marched as one and fought the same. They looked like the famous blocks of YiTi.


Now it was our true chance to avenge the burning of the Riverlands and finish the Westerlands off their strength. I could feel my men were in the highest spirits possible. "Ser Vance," I called out, and my friend rapidly approached the front of the line where I was located.


"What do you think? I'm sure some of them will get the idea to attack first. Do we wait for them or attack first?" I asked. One of the most important lessons from my father was to seek counsel from my trusted men. I wanted to attack first, but I would not put this battle in jeopardy because of my wishes.


"We better advance slowly and hope the plan Lord Sylvyrn proposed works. If they are capable of doing as promised, we would gain the advantage," he murmured, with Lord Mallister nodding in agreement.


"Aye, I agree with that," he said lightly before snorting. "Not only because I want to see them at work."


"Prepare the archers!" I shouted before addressing my commanders. "We will do as you say; advance at leisure. Save our strength for when it is needed the most."


With my shout, everyone prepared—the archers nocking the arrows to their bows, and the infantry in front of all of us clanking their spears against their long shields. Shouts could be heard from every direction of our army.


My commanders left my side, going to their respective platoons to direct.


Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself, thinking of my family, my people, and the future. This was it… This was my moment. Images of my lord father smiling in my youth, saying to me that he was proud of how I had grown, Catelyn's smiles when we used to play in the gardens, even of Lysa… the thought of her brought a pang to my heart. If she had done the things Robb accused her of, she would pay for her crimes, but that didn't mean that I didn't love her.


Letting my breath out, I opened my eyes, focusing on the battle like I had never done before in my life. "Start moving! It's time we get our due!"


With my shout, everyone began to move slowly, and I smiled seeing the dirt under us hardening before we could advance at a slow pace. Truly, the green men were wonderful aids.


"Let loose!" I shouted, and with it, the archers and the levies started marching, hoping to put an end to the Lannisters.


The arrows flew loose, and the Lannisters didn't bother guarding since we were so far away—way more than recommended. But we had tricks up our sleeves. With a whoosh of wind, the arrows traveled faster and farther than they should.


I smirked, seeing the Lannister men dropping like flies, over a hundred dead with the first volley.


Nodding at Lord Mallister, who was in charge of the archers, he returned my smirk. Truly, magic was something else.


The green men in our backline were using their "meager" control of the winds, and inwardly I scoffed. If they called this meager, I didn't want to imagine what the Children of the Forest in their heyday could do.


Thinking of the Arm of Dorne made me shudder.


Little by little, our infantry advanced, and after seeing the bloodbath our first volley caused, I could see through my far eye that Tygett Lannister started moving, shouting something I couldn't hear as I hid my smirk.


The more angry they got, the better for our plans, after all.


With a last shout, the Lannister cavalry started moving—over five thousand horses galloping at their fastest speed.


"Hold!" I shouted, and the infantry pumped their shields to the ground, using a small hole at their side to push their spears through it as they continued advancing at a slow pace.


With excitement surging in my heart, I prayed that Lord Sylvyrn's plan worked as they told.


I could see the infantry shaking a bit in fright before more shouts raised their spirits, and it was understandable after all, being the first line of defense against so many horses. But seeing them struggling to pick up their speed thanks to the terrain helped.


"Any moment now," I murmured, and my anticipation soared through the air, watching them approaching us mile by mile until they were a hundred feet away from us.


The closer they got, the more our people prayed, me included. But after a moment, I could feel a small tremor under our feet.


"Holy fuck," said a soldier next to me.


"Seven save us," murmured another, and they were not the only ones.


In front of our frontline, I could see holes opening, with sharpened roots starting to sprout, making a trap against the Lannister cavalry. And they were going too fast to stop in time.


After a few seconds, the first victim fell, a poor horse that was impaled by the wall, and with more and more roots coming through the soil more and more began to die, their soldiers being squashed under the full weight of their horses.


It was the perfect time to attack.


"Kill the Lannister scum!" I shouted, advancing with the complete force of the host.


I lifted my sword impaling the first soldier I came across with my men following my lead. Lannister and Bravossi blood began to flow through the lands, quenching its thirst for vengeance.


"Fuck them, boys!" shouted lord Vance, in charge of the cavalry.


The archers dropped their bows to the ground, snarling and grabbing their swords, running toward the lannister like men possessed by the warrior.


With the wind in our favor, we didn't need to worry about their archers, and with full confidence in our victory, we ran to do what most of us dreamed of. Painting our lands with Westerlands blood.


And blood flowed. Many Lannisters died at our feet as we advanced. The back of their cavalry managed to stop before coming against the spikes, but we were onto them.


Rushing against Tygett with some soldiers at my back we started slashing and hacking through them, lifting my sword and slashing the sword hand of one of his guards before I came in front of him.


"Vengeance sure is sweet, is it not, Lannister?" I asked conversationally.


"Fucking foul sorcery" he spat to the floor before dropping to the ground after a soldier killed it.


"Get up Lannister! Die on your feet at the very least!" I shouted at him as he scrambled to the floor trying to reach his sword.


"You have no honor, Tully!" he scowled, "Groveling in front of sorcerers?"


With complete savagery a rushed toward him delivering a kick to his chest, that coupled with my momentum dropped him back to the ground.


"Get up, Lannister!" I shouted again, much to the amusement of my companions.


Several knights tried to reach us to protect him but it was too late, taking a spear from my saddle I impaled him through the chest, blood flowing freely from his wound.


"Kill them all!" I ordered, and the rest followed.


Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves I observed the battlefield. The Lannister infantry was approaching us, but with our numerical advantage, they wouldn't be able to change the tide of this battle.


"Signal the northerners!" shouted Lord Mallister, and war horns could be heard across the battlefield.


The northerners advanced as a unit, and disaster befell the lannisters. The northern part of the host was drenched from head to toe with the blood of our enemies, and they were unflappable toward their goal.


Finally, the infantries collided, and shouts could be heard from everywhere, as I winced from one particular gruesome shout of pain.


Caving the head of another night, my sword was crimson and dripping, but I didn't let that stop me. I watched with grim satisfaction as the Lannister broke they began to stampede their own men to run away from us, something that couldn't be allowed.


"Rush after them!" could be heard from our forces, and with renewed vigor everyone followed.


Edmure Tully.


Two hours later.


"What are our losses, lord Mallister?" I asked while sitting on the ground. Rounding up all the stragglers we could reach took so much time, and the same could be said for the ones who surrendered.


"We lost a little bit over three thousand, my lord" he replied with a wince that I returned.


I had fucked up… with the excitement and bloodlust of the battle I did not think much when following the Lannisters that ran away, and we did not find out the traps in time. Obviously when we reached those traps and our first men died I called for them to come back, but that didn't mean it was the best decision. The Lannister host in the Riverlands had broken, but I had wanted more and some men fell for that.


Nonetheless, most of the Riverlanders had been in agreement, so not the whole fault laid with me but I felt conscious about it.


"How many died on the traps and pursuit?" I asked scowling.


"One hundred, Edmure" he replied lowering his head.


"Fuck" I murmured.


"No one faults you, my boy. We all got over excited" he said softly with a hand on my shoulder.


I nodded at him, trying to take my mind away from those thoughts.


"What about the hostages? Did we find the kingslayer?" I asked hiding my inner thoughts, showing only a sneer at the coward.


"Nay" he spat to the ground, "The cowardly cunt ran away with three thousand men. It's not worth it to continue searching for him."


I punched the floor with a snarl. The most important person in the host had managed to escape, and he was probably running to Kingslanding.


Sighing I stood up with the help of Jason, "Regroup, and let's take back the fort. Offer leniency if they come out without making problems, and make sure to send a raven to Riverrun. I'm sure Father and Robb will be ecstatic with the news."


Jason nodded and ran to see it done. Ser tytos seeing that I was alone approached me.


"Good job today, lad. You have gained the respect of your people" he guffawed with a big smile on his face, "You managed to regain our honor, and no one will forget that in the years to come."


"Even with my mistakes?" I asked morosely.


"Aye" he nodded, "You are only human, after all. You fought, you bled and you won for the riverlands. Be proud of what you have done, lad."


Smiling at him I punched his arm, "What about you, old man? Managed to gain some glory?"


He smiled wildly at that, showing a large gush in his arm. "I'm sure his grace will give me a medal or something"


"oh?" I lifted my eyebrow, "What did you do you old fox?"


"Follow me" he smirked, and I did.


Walking with him through the camp we had set, I looked around to see if there was a need to do something, but I found everything was being taken care of by different people. The green men were working on the wounded, and the soldiers that saw the least action were herding the hostages like cattle. We would need to do something about them fast since we had over six thousand hostages, and that was dangerous, but I was sure Robb already had plans for that.


After following old Tytos lead, we arrived at where we kept the hostages. The old lord almost with a skip on his steps showing his emotion.


"Look at that sorry sod" he smiled, pointing at a cage in the middle of the rest, being protected by five guards alone.


"Ser armory lorch" I gasped, patting the old lord next to me in the back at the job well done. "You, my lord, will gain so much from Robb for this gift. I'm sure of it."

---

If you want to support me or read up to 25k words ahead, you can find me on patr*e on . co m (slash) Infinityreads99

 

[Shaedy Hoe]

The Riverlands were in the middle of Westeros, and they had borders with six of the Seven Kingdoms, if you counted the Iron Islands.

Click to shrink...

More like nine, if you include the Crownlands. Seven Kingdoms is the number of Kingdoms there were on the continent right before Aegon's conquest, but then he liberated the Riverlands from the Iron Islands and created the Crownlands from parts of the Stormlands and the Riverlands, so there's 8 Kingdoms plus the Crownlands which are directly under the Iron Throne.

QUOTE="Sceonn, post: 9095616, member: 34840"]
Yup, almost impenetrable. Not quite Alexandria almost impenetrable though.

Taylor could control some sea creatures too like crabs and lobsters etc... That's another avenue to attack from, boring holes through their longboats. And Swordfish are quite a bit scary too.
[/QUOTE]

Queen Admin can control Arthropods, so that's insects, arachnids, crustaceans, and other small segmented creatures. You know another Arthropod QA can control? Barnacles. Lots and lots of barncles! Just imagine how damaging that could be to medieval wooden ships.

 

[ATP]

Wind on battlefield - even without magic,it mattered.I read about war of two roses battle/forget which one/ when one side could fire at oter,becouse wind supported them,and their enemy could not answer.

 

[InfinityReads999]

Author's Note:
So yeah, people are plotting in the capital. We learned what made Aegon appear so fast, among other things, while also seeing who is trying to influence whom. I'm not a plotter, nor am I a mastermind, so I hope I did it justice—or at least made it make sense, lol. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter. Hopefully, I'll see you soon.

---

Varys

Kingslanding.

Even if I tried to ignore it, I could not hide the frown from my face. Things had veered off course, and I was making plans on the go. With the escape of the late hand, I had to push for Aegon to start his incursion before everything was ready. That came with some problems, but at least the Golden Company provided their martial force for him to defeat Stannis Baratheon.

Oh, I knew it wasn't over. While Stannis was the contender with the least support, there was a reason why even Tywin Lannister held him in such high regard. He had a mind like no other for warfare, able to win a conflict even with his diminished numbers.

My little birds had been incapable of telling me what was going on in Dragonstone, where he was licking his wounds, but I was sure it wouldn't be the last time we heard of him. What preoccupied me the most were the last messages they were able to send to the capital. Changing the religion a whole island followed was no easy feat, and what they had done for some of the people who refused to do it sent a chill down my spine.

Thinking about the red priest brought back a sneer to my face. Magic… I hated it with a passion like no other person in Westeros; it had been a sorcerer who bought me when I was a child, the one who did all those atrocities to me for the sake of enlightenment only to drop me like I was some trash when he didn't need me anymore. And now we were surrounded by it.

Jaime Lannister had come wounded from the Battle of Mummers Ford, a nasty hole in his thigh that miraculously he was expected to heal with the help of Maester Pycelle. But what he told us provided some much-needed information that I hadn't been able to procure in these chaotic times.

The scowl came back in full force; Robb Stark's bid for the throne was not something I expected. At most, I hoped that he would bid for independence, and while doing so, provide Aegon with much-needed time to prepare. But no, the lad had to try and take the throne by himself, and with his black magic, he rode to the top of my list of dangerous people in Westeros, almost to the top.

When I first heard about his victory against Lord Tywin's host, I could barely believe it. Tywin was one of the most feared persons in Westeros, and to think a kid with no more than five and ten name days old had defeated him was a farce. While I was not a warfare specialist, I had been in the shadows of more conflicts than I could count, so I knew that there was always a possibility of flukes existing, but what I heard about how he won shocked me to the core.

The news of the fall of the Twins reached here long before that, but I didn't pay it any mind. It was impossible; magic was gone from Westeros, and I knew for a fact that a Stark would not use blood or sacrifice magic until it was the last option. I firmly believed that even Eddard Stark would cut his heir's head off if he tried. They were just like that.

Because of that, I only believed it to be some rumors spread by the young wolf to make his name feared, nothing more.

When I heard about Tywin's defeat, I paid more attention than I usually would, but even then, what was on the lips of most people now had to be an exaggeration. Oh, how stupid I was.

Him controlling millions upon millions of insects, or at least it appeared that way for the observers, to using wildfire were the most prominent rumors, but there were some about his prowess in battle and analytical mind. If, and it was a big if, the rumors were true, he was the one I had to pay more attention to.

The smallfolk were already comparing him to the warrior in the flesh, ignoring the fact that he followed a completely different religion, with the option being the supposed son of the late Robert and himself; the choice was as clear as day.

With all the changes the North had in the past five years and what he had done during the war that was dubbed before as the War of the Five Kings, now I supposed it was six kings, considering Balon Greyjoy in the Iron Islands. People hoped that he would defeat the bastardly Lannisters who were burning the lands and making this worse, to the point that they ignored the fact that he used magic.

The smallfolk did not care about that, at least for now. The only thing they wanted was to sleep with a full belly and have security, something that I understood and even approved of to some measure.

The North was safe from bandits for more than four years; they stopped buying from the other kingdoms before Jon Arryn forced their hands because they did have the food necessary to feed their people, the only reason they continued buying food from the reach was to keep the friendship going, something that helped them in the long run since I was sure they had enough food to feed the north during this war without outside intervention. Everyone wanted that, and under the Lannisters, they were suffering while the royal family feasted. It went to a point of no return that I did not even participate in those feasts because I felt guilty. My main motivation for everything I did was the betterment of the smallfolk, and after that, to have Aegon on the throne.

In the deepest part of my mind, I accepted that if Robb Stark did not use magic, I would even choose to support him instead of Aegon, but since he did, he became my enemy. Magic was something that should have stayed dead, not something that came back. There was nothing more than suffering for the people who participated in it and even less for their victims.

The only saving grace was that from what I heard, he was not harming the smallfolk, and even the hostages were well treated. At least Eddard Stark raised him well, even if he should have drowned him at birth, in my opinion.

Walking at my normal sedated pace to the small council reunion, I wondered what it would be about. Lord Jaime had reached King's Landing a day ago, so we would probably speak about how fucked the Lannisters were. They had not made any friends when they could, having conflicts with everyone since they had the power when Robert was alive. Now, it was even worse; Joffrey's attitude was something that reminded me of Aerys, and that was something no one in the Seven Kingdoms wanted a repeat of. His mannerisms, his whines, and his sheer brutality were something I did not understand how a human being was capable of. There was something wrong with that child, and it lent credibility to the theory of the maesters that said that inbreeding was the cause of madness.

Thankfully, his brother and sister were not like that, and with my position, it would not be difficult to arrange a little accident for the second coming of the Mad King. But it was not the time for now, because I was sure if something happened to him, I would be the first suspect and I would need to run away.

The information I obtained in the Red Keep was something of importance, and for that reason, I could not move against Joffrey even if I wanted to.

Smiling my usual smile at Ser Oakheart, who was guarding the entrance to the throne room, I wondered when he would betray the Lannisters. He was a good man, and the things Joffrey and the queen had done did not sit well with him. Scratching my chin, I wondered if I should help him like I did Ser Barristan.

Thinking about him brought a small, honest smile to my face. My contacts in Astapor told me a little tidbit of information that I was sure would be worth it to the queen. How her wayward brother got in working order with Robb Stark was still a mystery to me, but it was easy to find that he had been sent there with the help of a Merman Galley.

It was weird since there was nothing of note on that side of the world, at least for the people of Westeros. The only thing of importance was Daenerys Targaryen, but as of my last message, she was still in Qarth doing God knows what.

"How do you find yourself today, Lord Varys?" the slimy voice of Littlefinger could be heard in the chambers. With all the chaos, he did not waste a single moment to increase his power, much to my amazement. If he were not so selfish and self-serving, I'm sure he could be a magnificent ally that you could count on in almost any situation, but you couldn't be sure with him.

My little birds had found him murmuring to the king's ears, telling him what he wanted to hear, and a weird friendship was formed. Something that could be useful to diminish his hold on power in the future when Joffrey died.

"All is well, my lord," I smiled genially at him, hiding my true thoughts. "How about you? Do you know what this meeting is about?" I asked, genuinely curious. I'd been so busy and distracted with the news about magic that I hadn't paid attention, something that I needed to fix quickly. King's Landing was not a safe place for careless people.

"Oh? You are slipping, my friend," he smirked. "Jaime Lannister woke up today; I'm sure he will be present to give his point of view on his defeat. I'm sure we will hear some tall tales from him today."

"Indeed," I nodded. "Some of the things that the merchants and smallfolk are talking about are hard to believe, even after all these years in my line of work."

I continued walking, and finally, I plopped down in my seat, with the most dangerous man in King's Landing next to me. "Who can we expect in this meeting, my lord?"

"I think all of us will be present," he murmured in my ear. "The king will want to be present, and I'm afraid of what he will do to the Kingslayer when he hears what he says. From my contacts, he is still apoplectic from yesterday."

Dipping my head down to hide my face, my thoughts started running a mile a minute. It was true; the mad child would not doubt for a second that it was the incompetence of Jaime and his grandfather, and I'm afraid the queen would not be capable of curtailing his decision.

"Do you think the queen will be able to stop him?" I asked in a murmur while we waited for the rest to arrive. Right now, the small council was short-staffed, with no hand, no master of ships, and no master of laws—something that needed to change as soon as possible.

Littlefinger smirked. "It is a possibility," he nodded, "but I'm not completely sure; his grace has been skittish since the news of Lord Stark reached the Crownlands," he sneered.

"Oh, yes. Robb Stark, it is magnificent how he managed to defeat the Westerlands while being so young, is it not?" I smiled at him, knowing about his hatred for all things Stark and the fear he had for his life since Ned Stark had survived and was sure to warn his son.

"Yes… him," he spat, his disdain almost palpable. "I'm sure his grace will be ecstatic to hear about his victories."

Coinciding with the point, the conversation came to a halt with the entrance of the royal family, followed by Grand Maester Pycelle. Jaime Lannister was almost dead on his feet, so much so that it was easy to notice his stress.

I tried to observe as closely as I could without seeming eager or attracting their attention; Jaime Lannister was a shadow of his former self.

His once bright eyes were dulled, with his gaze in different directions without focusing on anything in particular. Dark circles etched beneath his eyes told a story of suffering. If I was correct, the battle was almost three weeks ago, and he must have ridden without stopping when strictly necessary. I also noticed that he was skinnier than before; it truly was like looking at a different person.

The queen was distraught at seeing him like that. I guessed that she was in part mad because of his failure, afraid of how Joffrey would react, and stressed at not being able to smother him in her bosom like the lover he was.

"Your grace, my queen," I nodded at them with a simpering expression as I stood up and bowed in their direction. "Ser Jaime, I am truly glad you find yourself better than when you arrived."

I noticed that Ser Jaime barely paid me any attention, and I wondered what truly happened at Mummers Ford for him to be this way. Truly, war was so difficult, making men of his caliber break apart in a single moment.

"Lord Varys," Joffrey sneered, and I squashed the thought of killing the bastard. His time would come; I just needed patience.

"My uncle was going to enlighten us about how he lost fifteen thousand of MY men," he continued in a mild voice before screaming like the petulant child he was.

Spittle was flying through his mouth, almost reaching the queen, who was at his side.

"Dear, calm down," Cersei murmured at him, moving a hand through his thigh in a soothing gesture.

She ordered a servant to serve some wine for both of them to calm him down. I could already see that she was nervous for her twin. She knew her son's character and wanted to use anything she could do to avoid a harsh punishment.

The king took his cup and drank it in one mouthful. "Go on, uncle. Tell us how you and grandfather lost my army in the Riverlands," he sneered.

Jaime was slow to begin, his tone almost flat of inflection. "I don't know exactly what happened to Father's army; there was no raven from his camp either before his battle nor after, so I can guess either everyone from the Westerlands died or is currently a hostage. Everyone in the Riverlands knew where my host was, but not a single member of Father's host arrived, so I can guess Robb Stark was even more thorough than Edmure Tully."

"But I do mostly know what happened at Mummers Ford," he nodded, his eyes blank while he drank some wine offered to him by another servant. "We were waiting for a message from your grandfather to start moving again; since our scouts had seen Edmure and twenty thousand men leaving Riverrun, we were waiting for them in an advantageous position." He continued gulping his wine. "We had the advantage, even if we were at a numerical disadvantage; Edmure Tully had not been able to do anything during the defense at Riverrun, so we expected to defeat him and take him hostage."

"It appears the trout has some fangs," smirked Lord Baelish at my side. For someone who didn't know him as I did, he would appear just his usual self, but you could feel a small twinge of respect he had toward the heir of Riverrun. Maybe he felt something since he was the brother of the love of his life or something.

But I did not expect what happened next: Jaime punched the table with all his might, splintering it in the process, and gritted his teeth like he had spent a few moons learning the art under Stannis.

"It wasn't him," he snarled. "That pathetic trout would have no hope of defeating me in a thousand years."

Ah… There it was, the patented petulance of the Lannister family whenever something went in a different direction than they expected. It was the first time I had seen Jaime act like this, but I guess it was expected; it is not an everyday occurrence when someone is defeated so completely without being capable of defending themselves.

"But he did defeat you, Ser Jaime," I pointed out with my most innocent facade, knowing that it would not be enough insult for him to skewer me with his sword.

His gaze locked into mine, and he snarled before slumping his shoulders in defeat.

"Yes, he did defeat my host completely," he admitted in shame. "Those damned masked men," he murmured dejectedly.

"Oh?" asked the Grand Maester. "What is this about masked men?"

Little by little, Jaime Lannister told the complete tale of his defeat to the small council, and all were silent, trying to understand the ramifications of this conflict going into the future. All but one.

King Joffrey, first of his name, was trembling in his seat, his face purple with rage.

"I'll have their heads on a spike!" he shouted for all to hear. "Every single one of them will die, and their houses stripped of their honor!"

"With what army, your grace?" asked Lord Baelish, and I had to give him props for that; he had balls of Valyrian steel.

"We only have the Lannister men located in King's Landing: the gold cloaks and the three thousand men your uncle Jaime managed to escape with," he continued, laughing weakly, and I wondered how much of it was a farce.

"What do you recommend then, Littlefinger?" spat Joffrey.

"Let me leave for the Vale. I am completely sure I can convince Lysa Arryn to ally with the crown," he smirked, sure of himself.

Before anyone could object like the last time, I realized that this was what he had been preparing for during his conversations with the king. He wanted Joffrey to trust him before offering his assistance with the Vale; that way, he would overrule everyone's opinion.

The queen opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the king interrupted her. "You are the only reason why I don't execute my uncle. Be silent, woman," Joffrey snarled. "I don't want to hear a single word from your mouth, mother. You told me to trust Grandfather and Uncle Jaime, and look where that got us."

The queen's mouth snapped shut, and I hid a snicker at that. It appeared that she wasn't in control anymore, or at least she could not lie to herself thinking the contrary.

"But what can we do besides getting the Vale under our wing?" asked Pycelle, dropping his facade of the way-too-old maester, showing that his cunning hadn't diminished with age.

"What about sellswords?" asked Ser Jaime. "There are no more options; all the kingdoms are either supporting someone or staying neutral, like Dorne or the Vale. But the Dornish would rather burn than ally with us."

"What about a royal marriage?" piped up Lord Baelish. "If we promise them the crown, maybe they will forget about the past?"

Cersei purpled with rage. "Absolutely not! I will not have either Myrcella or Joffrey marry those barbarians. They should be good subjects and support us without that! Send a raven to the Water Gardens; it is time Doran Martell lives up to his vows."

"I don't think that will work out, sister," Ser Jaime shook his head. "Remember who the Northerners have as hostages…"

"You don't think…" she gasped in reply and paled so quickly that I was glad Pycelle was near her.

Ser Jaime just nodded. "They have Father, Gregor Clegane, and Ser Amory Lorch—the main transgressors of the sack of King's Landing during the rebellion. I know for a fact that the Martells would drool at having the opportunity to exact their vengeance, and I suppose Robb Stark knows that too."

"But what can we do?" asked Joffrey, pale as his mother.

"Maybe we can use the Faith against the North," the queen replied questioningly. "We can bribe the High Septon so that he uses his speeches to sow discord with the smallfolk of all the kingdoms."

"Good idea, my queen. I'm sure we can manage that with the amount of gold we still have in our coffers," Lord Baelish smirked, as always, the smug bastard.

With that decision made, everyone got up from their seats to fulfill their orders, but I stayed back since I wanted to speak with someone in particular.

"Ser Jaime, a moment?" I asked respectfully.

He nodded in agreement, taking back his seat. Before the Maester could do the same, I stopped him. "I'm afraid I need to have this conversation alone, Grand Maester. I'll send Ser Jaime to your solar when we are finished."

The Maester went to argue, but Ser Jaime waved his hand dismissively. "Go ahead, Pycelle. I'm sure I will be fine."

"Now, what do you want, Varys?" he asked seriously.

"Ser Jaime, I want you to be honest with me. I admit that I'm not well-versed in warfare. How fucked are we?" I asked seriously; I needed to know when was the best time to leave this wretched capital.

Ser Jaime uncharacteristically sighed. "We are completely fucked, Lord Varys. We have no allies, and the Westerlands were gutted in Riverrun. Even if the remaining lords wanted to keep supporting us, they could only send farmboys or smallfolk, not trained men."

I nodded in acceptance. "That's what I feared, my lord. We are surrounded by enemies, and while I did not want to say this in the hearing of the other members of the small council, we have less time than any of us hoped."

"What do you mean?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Lord Renly and the Reach started moving some weeks ago. I received a raven from one of my informants. They don't seem to be marching here, thank the Seven for that, but it is a problem for us." I replied morosely. "From what my little birds have told me, it appears that Renly wishes to finish his brother first without any other contender intervening."

Ser Jaime was silent, upon hearing the grave news, but he turned serious after thinking for a bit.

"Is there any way we can make sure both of them die?" he asked seriously.

I thought for a moment. "It is certainly possible, but there is one problem with that plan, Ser Jaime. I can surely manage to do something against Renly, but I'm afraid I am completely blind with Stannis Baratheon. According to the last message my little birds sent from Dragonstone, he has the support of a red priest who uses magic."

"Magic again," he spat to the ground, and I could see the telltale signs of stress after hearing that word. "But do not worry much about that. As great a general as he is, I know for a fact that he cannot defeat the Reach in battle. It does not matter how good he is; they have twenty times his numbers."

I nodded at him with a smile. "In that case, I'm sure I can manage to deal with Renly if it is needed, Ser Jaime. But what good would that bring us?"

He smirked. "The Tyrells have always wanted a crown. I'm sure the bumbling fool of Mace Tyrell will drool at the idea."

I sighed at him. I did not know if he was ignoring the problem or what, but it did not matter much to me since I could take advantage of it.

"What if they support this supposed Aegon?" I asked, tilting my head. "Are you not counting on that, Ser?"

The Kingslayer sighed. "That certainly is a possibility, but it does not matter. We just need to make the best offer. Westerosi houses will not support this Aegon for now; he needs to gain the respect of the houses, at least the ones that aren't Targaryen loyalists. And while the Reach claims to be one of those, we both know that they are anything but that. They work for their best interest, and we can make sure we make that happen."

"Do you have any spies with this Aegon?" Ser Jaime asked seriously.

Inwardly, my thoughts were going a mile per minute, but it would not be hard to weave a tale.

"Indeed, I do, Ser," I smiled at him. "Nowhere close to a high-ranking official, but he can hear tidbits of information. He has not done anything as of right now because I wanted him to integrate into the group first, but if it's needed, I can notify him immediately."

Ensuring that Aegon had the best chance at winning was my job; nothing else mattered as of right now. With this plan, I would be able to continue staying in King's Landing while helping Young Griff.

"What do you need my spy to do, Ser Jaime?" I asked with a normal smile while I strategized how to take advantage of our enemies.

"I want you to use him to send stories about how the Tyrells failed the Targaryens during the rebellion. I want him to do whatever he can so that this Aegon has some bias before meeting them," he said with a surprising level of cunning I did not know he had before.

Little did he know that I did not need to do anything to color Young Griff's perception of the Tyrells; having Jon Connington as his father figure did that for me. The man was a fantastic general and trusted by the last dragon, but I knew he had something wrong with his head. The zealotry he had for Rhaegar was something that made people question if he was a sword swallower, and as good as I was at finding out secrets, I was not sure of that answer.

Either way, this worked well for me. These kinds of tasks were the ones I loved—doing what people asked of me while obtaining all the benefits without losing my advantages.

"Consider it done, my lord. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have ravens to send. I will ask for a servant to take you to Maester Pycelle's solar so that he can continue with your treatment." I smiled genially at him. "I'm glad that your defeat did not kill your spirit, Ser Jaime."

He waved his hand in dismissal. "Go on; I will wait here."

Nodding at him, I stood up, leaving the chamber and telling Ser Oakheart, who hadn't left his position, to help me with Ser Jaime. Such a good Kingsguard, that one.

Walking through the castle, I was surprised to see one of my little birds waiting for me, giving me a piece of paper with a location on it, and I hurried there to a secret spot.

Looking through the hole, I frowned, seeing Lord Baelish speaking with the king in hushed whispers, but even if I tried my best, they were far enough away that I couldn't hear them.

Lord Baelish was dangerous, of that I was sure, and I didn't like the idea of him and Joffrey working together. The little monster was chaotic enough without having a sycophant feeding his cruelty for his gain. If Petyr Baelish manages to become the hand, something that I think is what he is aiming for would mean the end of the seven kingdoms as we know of.

---

If you want to support me or read up to 25k words ahead, you can find me on patr*e on . co m (slash) Infinityreads99

 

[ATP]

Baelish as Hand? go for it,Joeffrey would be more fucked.
Aside from that, They are loosing on schedule. Stannis witch would help him against Robb magic,but they still do not have army.
So, no big problems in Westerso,as long as Euron do not bring some abomination.

Problem is,Robb need to take over entire planet,including Kadath,Stygoi,Cardossa and Asshai,and he need better magic for that.

 

[InfinityReads999]

Authors note:Next chapter a wild Daenerys appears for the first time!

Tyrion Lannister.

The gulf of grief.

I was getting tired of the smell of the sea. These past few months had been a complete clusterfuck for me, and I had to thank Robb for all my grievances. Snorting at that, I could not deny that there was a feeling of wonder thinking about my next journey, away from Father sneers, Cersei's cutting words, or the expectations of my family name.

While people normally saw me as someone lesser, I knew that I was famous for my intelligence and wit. But even when people knew about that, they ignored it. The stigma my form had on my life was substantial. The only reason to follow Robb on this crazy journey was that there were only a few people who appreciated me in Westeros.

Thinking of Aunt Genna and my brother brought a pang to my heart; betraying them was no easy choice, but I knew they would understand, or at least I hoped so. With my new position, I would have the opportunity to vouch for them when I went back to Westeros as the Hand of the next dynasty. I knew that this was a test from Robb to see if I had what it took to keep my job when he and Daenerys married. And I would not fail, I vowed.

Robb scared me; there was something about him that made my hair stick up. He knew things he had no right to know. Just the letter alone he gave me before my departure was enough for me to vow to never go against him. I did not know if the things written in the parchment were true, but I would follow them to the letter. I did not know how he knew about the future, but following someone who knew what was going to happen was just common sense.

In my opinion, if someone were to lose with all that knowledge, that man would be a fool of epic proportions, and from what I knew, Robb Stark was no fool.

The things in that parchment made my throat close with fright the first time I read them, but right now I just felt giddy. As I said, this was a test, and I would be a fool to ignore all the warnings.

In it, it was written the story of my future queen, what she had done since she was exiled with her brother, from all the hurt and conflicts she had to survive before reaching Astapor to buy the Unsullied, and what she would do to obtain them. Her plans to attack Yunkai and Meereen, and the things that would happen when she left those places in search of the throne.

I would not let that happen; Astapor would be firmly under her rule, and I would do my best to guide her to become the best queen she could. It was a no-brainer, and even a whore could do so with all this information. I would go beyond their expectations and gain my place in the future of Westeros.

Snorting at the image that came to my mind when I thought about the future, I shook my head; as much as I would love to see Cersei groveling at my feet asking for pardons for her many, many sins, I knew it was something improbable. I did not doubt that my sister had made even more enemies in the short time I'd been gone from the capital.

She had the ability to do so easily, and her character did not help at all. She always thought she was the smartest person in the room, thinking of everyone else but Jaime and their children as lesser. Since she was young, she had been apoplectic that she was born a woman, and she faulted everyone for something no one could change, and in her mad pursuit of power, she would never let it go now that she had it.

I knew, from the bottom of my heart, that King's Landing was suffering in the regency of my sister, and the fact that her mad son was sitting on the Iron Throne made me shudder. Joffrey was as mad as the Mad King, something that should have been impossible.

I was not present when he offered the dead fetus inside the cat he killed to Robert Baratheon, and I did not wish my worst enemies to suffer something like that, but if that was how Joffrey was when he was younger, I prayed that the other children were safe, at least until Robb took the capital.

At least I could be sure he wouldn't harm them; from what I could see, Robb was someone who would do what was needed at any moment, but Tommen and Myrcella were no danger for his plans; they didn't even have the blood to sit on the throne. No… I would ask for the favor for them to be allowed to grow up under our eyes, and when the moment came, they would go back to Casterly Rock, their only home. In my opinion, that was the only place where they would not suffer for the sins of their parents, and even then, the risk existed.

While I was on this ship, there was no way for me to receive news about Westeros, but Robb had been kind enough to write about what he knew. My foolish father thought attacking the Riverlands would help him set the Lannisters in power, and while I knew that his plan would have bought them at least time, Robb would not let it stand. There was no way that he would leave the Riverlands to burn while he could do something.

According to his message, he had warned the Blackfish in the Bloody Gate about these plans, and the man was one of the most capable generals Westeros had ever seen. I was sure that he would be able to stop my father before he could entrench himself in the Riverlands, and that would allow Robb to start his crusade in the name of saving his family. Truly, Robb Stark's mind scared me. He had played all of Westeros, and he would get the adoration of the kingdoms with how gallant and honorable he was.

I sighed. It was something that I had been doing more these past few moons. Westeros would have so many changes before I returned, and I hoped that the people I cared about would be all right. I had to wonder if Robb knew about them before I snorted; I'm sure he did.

"My lord," a voice could be heard outside of my room with a soft but firm knock on the door.

Groaning, I got up from the bed. I never liked using the sea as transport, and these moons had not changed my opinion at all.

"What is it, Pete?" I asked somewhat groggily. "Are we finally there yet?"

Sometimes I wondered if the sailors and knights present got bored with my whinings, but they surprised me with the respect and help they provided me. They did not see me as a lesser man thanks to my disabilities, and with the job that Robb gave me, they followed my orders as long as they were just and honorable.

It was easy to see that while some of them doubted what we were doing, they would follow me to the ends of the earth as long as Robb said so. It was a wonder how he made people so loyal to him.

Pete snorted before nodding, "Aye, we will finally be free of your whining."

This was another thing that I loved about the Northerners; if somehow they liked you, you would know it, as they did not hide their feelings like the rest of Westeros. It was honestly refreshing how they treated me. A pinch of respect for my position while they waited for me to prove myself, to another one of friendship just because Robb sent me here.

"How long until we dock, then?" I asked with a giddy smile, happy that I would finally touch normal firm soil instead of the turbulent waters.

"If there are no more complications, it will probably take five hours for us to reach Astapor, my lord Tyrion." Another booming voice could be heard from outside the room.

Wendel Manderly was in charge of the expedition, and he had been of so much help during our voyage. When he spoke, people listened. There was just something about him that commanded respect, not only his size, and for the Seven that I wondered how much this man ate.

He was big, with a large walrus mustache and a bald head, and while not as fat as his father and older brother, he was massive.

"Are we in danger of any pirates?" I groaned. "We just fought against them not so long ago."

It was true; a sole galley with unknown banners was something of a delicacy for the pirates in our surroundings, and during these moons of travel, we had been in danger multiple times. I even had to help, something that I was sure affected how they treated me. While it was true that I would never be a knight of renowned caliber, I could use my best trait to help: my mind.

Thinking of different strategies to defend the galley was something that I learned to enjoy after doing it for so long, and in part, I was thankful to have this opportunity. It was a trial by fire, but as my father said, people learned faster that way.

Ser Wendel grunted, "It's your lucky day, Lord Tyrion. So close to Astapor, there are multiple galleys filled to the brim with Unsullied protecting the seas. I'm afraid your wisdom shan't be needed anymore."

Sighing in satisfaction, I joked, "Oh, that's a shame. I was beginning to enjoy them trying."

"Hah!" Ser Wendel's boisterous laughter could be heard even in the city, I was sure. "Aye, your help will be sorely missed."

"Now what?" I asked lightly. "Will you truly stay with me while your family fights?"

Ser Wendel nodded. "It was what Lord Stark commanded; his will shall be done. I hope we will be able to learn what has happened in these past moons. I know for a fact that much can change in such a short amount of time."

Nodding at him, we started walking to the deck of the ship.

"Will the ship stay, or will some of you return to Westeros?" I asked, seeing if I could start planning our next steps.

"No," Ser Wendel shook his head. "The sailors will return posthaste. The North, while strong, will need any help that can be provided. Only the men sworn to House Manderly will stay here, my lord."

"Understandable, Ser Wendel. How many men will stay?"

"Sixty men, my lord. Ten knights with five men under each of them," he replied. "It is the method Lord Robb gave us; we fight as units, just as the Unsullied."

Good. That was good. I was thankful for the support since we were so far from our homes that there was no way to get support in time, and I will not deny that I had a friendship with Ser Wendel and the rest. They had been of help and would continue to be so in the future. I had some moons before the queen arrived at Astapor, and I needed to make sure to advance my plans to show my worth to her.

Thanks to my family name, I knew that earning her trust would be hard, but with all the knowledge Robb provided, I could make it work.

I had sixty men at my disposal, along with four thousand gold coins from multiple cities. The biggest part of that sum of gold would be used to buy a large mansion for us to live in on the outskirts of the city; that way, I could work in peace without many people knowing what I was doing. I needed all the advantages I could get for my plan to work.

With the mansion and the provisions for the next couple of moons bought, the rest of the gold would be used to buy a contingent of Unsullied, which would be freed from slavery and wait for the queen to arrive so that we could free their brothers in arms.

Smirking in excitement, I smelled the air of the sea. The salty smell was potent, and it made me scrunch my face in disgust, much to the amusement of my companions.

"I can see your thoughts, Lord Tyrion. I'm afraid that your attempt at looking remarkable was for naught," laughed Ser Wendel, with the rest of the men following his lead. It was weird; I always hated when people made fun of me, but there was something in how the Northerners acted that made it fine for me. It was a laugh between comrades, something I did not have in the Westerlands before my father banished me, and the less said about King's Landing, the better.

The only good thing that came out of my punishment was Lady Elyse. A warm smile was on my face at the memories I had with that woman. Truly, the gods act in mysterious ways. At the beginning of my punishment, I was mad against the world, faulting it for everything wrong that happened to me, but the more time I spent with her made me realize that there were good things out of my situation.

I would not call it love; at least I hoped it wasn't that since I did not know if she felt the same, and I did not want to ruin our friendship with my advances, but she did not see the imp like everyone else. She valued me, and I did the same in return. No matter what happened, or who said bad things about me, she defended me and showed me that there was good in the world.

Five hours later.

Finally, sweet, sweet land. I had missed setting foot on firm soil. It was so much better than being at sea, and I hoped that I could stay here for a while before going on another voyage.

Finally arriving at our destination safe and sound was a godsend miracle. We had been attacked numerous times during the voyage, and I had half a mind to throw myself to the ground and kiss it in thanks.

How unsightly, I laughed out loud, and the rest followed. I knew the men from House Manderly were accustomed to this, but I was not, and while they made fun of me, they understood my feelings about the situation.

Either way, there was a lot to do before we could truly rest. Donning a cowl to hide my identity, I hoped that we were far away from Westeros so that the people of Astapor would not know who I was. In Westeros, it was impossible to hide it since the only dwarf with gold was the famous imp of Casterly Rock, but hopefully, that was different here.

At least, I needed to hide who I was until Daenerys arrived. It was exhausting to have so many clothes on me in this heat, but it was needed.

Ser Wendel and the rest followed my lead, all of them using only mesh armor so as not to show the bulk under their clothes.

I tugged at my tunic, already slick with sweat in this unrelenting heat. The air in Astapor was different than in Westeros; it felt heavier and uncomfortable, but at least I hoped that it wouldn't affect the efficiency of Ser Wendel and the rest if they had to fight.

Looking around the harbor, I searched for someone of note that could help me fulfill my aim. It was hard to see the sheer quantity of slaves in here, but I vowed to help them in the future. It was hard to stop myself from interfering when I saw a particularly fat wise master hitting a lad no more than ten and one name days old, and Ser Wendel and the rest were the same. But we needed to tread carefully.

Grabbing Ser Wendel's arm harshly, I marveled how my fingers couldn't close even if I tried, but it was enough to make him pay attention to me.

"Walder," I hissed the fake name he had decided on before reaching the harbor, "not now. I promise that he will pay and the lad will receive compensation, but now it's not the time. Believe me, I want nothing more than to snap his neck, but we need to be careful."

Ser Wendel snarled and dislodged his arm from my hand, and I feared the worst, but he walked in the direction of the ship before it sailed back to the North.

"If anyone else thinks that they won't be able to control themselves, follow him. As I said, they will pay, but we need to tread carefully. We are only sixty men in the middle of nowhere with enemies surrounding us," I said harshly. "I understand that it's not ideal, and this goes against everything we have been taught, so I won't fault anyone who wants to leave."

Ten men left back to the ship, and I hoped they would calm themselves before they snapped. We were in the middle of the harbor, and my group called for attention; we couldn't win if a fight broke out.

"The rest of you, I thank you. It appears that someone of importance noticed us. Be calm; I will be the only one who speaks," I ordered seriously.

The rest nodded in silence, and I let out a sigh of relief. The North was against slavery even more than the rest of the Seven Kingdoms since they suffered more than the rest with the wildlings and Ironborn.

"Greetings, my friends from afar," greeted in High Valyrian a fat man on top of a cushion being lifted by some slaves. "I'm afraid that I don't recognize that banner. What do you seek in Astapor?"

"Indeed, we sail from afar," I greeted him back in the same language while swallowing the bile that threatened to come out of my mouth when I noticed the state of some of the slaves. Slashes glittered on their skin, and they were so skinny that I was afraid they would fall dead in a moment.

"My name is Lockart, and we are in seek of refuge," I continued. "I am tired of Pentos, and a good friend of mine told me that Astapor was a good place to settle in," I smiled at him even if he could not see it thanks to my mask.

"My friend, you have come to the perfect place," he smiled. "My name is Mazhar zo Lorar, a wise master of Astapor, at your service." He laughed and made a half bow in his seat. "What do you require? I'm sure I can help you out, for a price, of course."

"Gold is no trouble, wise master Lorar," I nodded at him, pointing out a coffer filled to the brim with gold coins from different parts of the world. There were coins from Pentos, Braavos, Westeros, and others; with this, I hoped that we could hide our identities further.

"Oh," he laughed out loud, "I'm sure we can have a spectacular friendship, my dear Lord Lockart. Now, why don't you tell me what you require? I'm sure I can get it to you at the best price in the market. Slaves? Companionship? Tell me," he asked with a wide smile on his face.

"Nothing of the sort for now, oh wise master," I replied, shaking my head. "My companions and I wish to settle here, like I said. Is there any mansion on the market? Preferably on the inside the city."

"That would be difficult, Lord Lockart," he shook his head. "I'm afraid the only location that I can think of has been in disrepair for so many years."

"Oh? Do tell, wise maester," I asked meaningfully.

Mazhar zo Lorar made a difficult face before sighing, "It was the house of a wise master that is no longer in this world. I'm afraid he offended the wrong person, and his family was decimated in that very place. People leave it alone because they believe that place is cursed with the blood that was spilled on its floors. Even the merchants left the surroundings to the manse."

"Oh? So I could buy the properties surrounding the manse if it was needed?" I asked with interest. This would work well for my plans. If the people of Astapor left that place alone in fear, that would mean that I could act without fear of people spying on me.

The wise master laughed, "I mean, you could buy it. But I'm afraid that if you planned to set up some shop or something, you would not receive many patrons, my lord."

"That's not much of a problem for us, wise master Lorar." I shook my head. "We are no merchants, and we have enough gold for a lifetime. We just seek someplace we can die in peace." I lied, "We are weary of conflicts, wise master. We just wish to party and drink for the rest of our lives."

"I love that mindset," he laughed. "In that case, follow me, and we can talk when you see the product."

Slowly, as to not force the slaves to hurry, we walked at his side to the other side of Astapor. The heat was almost unbearable, but the fact that the slaves were working so hard for gods knows how many years made us shut our concerns off.

The stench of Slaver's Bay waters was felt, though it was a relief from the stink of the city proper. The red brick of the road that snaked out of the city led us to a sprawling estate, weathered by the years, but the magnificence was still notable.

I gazed up at it; the once proud mansion now was draped in vines, and its crimson sandstone walls bleached by the harsh sun. It was acceptable, I guess. At least it would work for us.

The master spoke true; the more we advanced through the road, the fewer people were seen, and it's been more than ten minutes since I saw a slaver. The only people that were around were some slaves and some children practicing rigorously under the sun. I guess that they were the next batch of Unsullied during the beginning of their training.

"Nothing like the mansions in Pentos, is it?" I muttered to myself, hoping that my lies were believable, my lips curving to a smile when I saw the face the master made when he heard me.

The wise master, the slaver fat fuck that I vowed to kill myself in the future, coughed awkwardly at the remark.

"No, my lord, but you can't deny that even in disrepair it holds its charm," he replied with an oily voice. "The blood of his family, unfortunately, ran dry when he offended Kraznys mo Nakloz. He is a wise master well entrenched in the city with decades of experience; he is one to not cross lightly. If you meet him, be careful. It's a good thing you can speak High Valyrian, my lord; that will help you with your relationships here in Astapor," Loras warned me, and I jolted at hearing that name. According to what Robb said in the letter, that wise master was the one who fell into Daenerys's trap.

"I will take that into consideration, wise master," I replied while nodding my head. "Not so wise the master who lost this house, eh?" My voice dripped with sarcasm, hoping that I had read Lorar well during our conversation. I had felt that he had some disdain toward the last owner of this house.

"Heh." He laughed. "I knew I was going to like you, Lord Lockart. Indeed, Thazon zo Meros was a fool of epic proportions. He was arrogant and did not know when to stop pushing his agenda. He did not make many friends while he lived."

I looked over to the mansion one more time, feeling the weight of my decision on my shoulders. It was not only my life that I was risking; I had to be responsible for the rest of the Northerners that followed me. I had a plan, many of them, to be honest, though which would take root in this foreign land remained to be seen. A foothold in Astapor before Daenerys Stormborn came was going to be invaluable.

The city was a crossroads of trade and war, and though I abhorred what they did to the slaves, it held the seed of opportunity for someone like me.

"How much are you asking for this ruin, wise master?" I asked, not bothering to hide the disdain in my voice. I wanted it; it was perfect for my plans, but I would not let him know that.

My mind was running a mile a minute, calculating its worth, balancing the potential advantages and risks of placing my truth and coin in this wise master who would die by my hands in the near future. Maybe I could get my gold back, I wondered.

The wise master's face lit up with false cheer. "A mere two thousand golden honors, my lord. A price—"

I held my hand, cutting him off. That price was preposterous for the estate of the mansion. "Two thousand for a crumbling mansion on the edge of the city with no one but slaves and child soldiers in its surroundings? Do not take me for a stupid man, wise master." I let the words hang in the air, watching his face tighten. "I will give you a thousand honors, no more. I doubt you will find another buyer so eager for property so close to the slums of this city."

The wise master's eyes flashed with a glimmer of anger, but it was quickly smothered by greed. "A thousand honors… my lord, surely—"

"Take it or leave it, wise master," I said sharply. "The city is prospering, but you told me how no one approaches this location. The gold will be yours alone; something that you have no use for will sell for a thousand honors. Time is not on your side; the more you hold on to this estate, the less it will be worth. And we both know the cost of maintaining such a place." I glanced at the peeling plaster and cracked windows, letting my gaze linger just long enough to drive my point home.

Lorar clenched his jaw but forced a smile on his face. "One thousand golden honors it is, my lord."

I nodded at him. "I'm sure this is the start of a wonderful friendship, oh wise master." Grabbing his hand, I shook it. "Have the deed ready by the morrow, and please send some slaves to make sure the place is cleaned. I have no use for cobwebs and rats."

Lorar nodded with a smile. "I sure hope so, Lord Lockart. And do not worry; my slaves will have this place ready for you to move tomorrow morning. Would it interest you to sleep in my manse? I promise that I have the best slaves in Astapor."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, wise master," I shook my head. "Some of my men didn't agree with the sea. I bid you farewell, and I will bring you the gold tomorrow."

The wise master nodded with a smile. "Understandable, Lord Lockart. I will send someone to your ship tomorrow when everything is ready. Have a good night, and welcome to Astapor."

As I walked away, my mind churned. This was it, my first move in this cesspit of a city. A mansion on the outskirts of Astapor, away from prying eyes but close enough to the city trade routes and intrigues. It would serve well as a base for the future. It's a shame Robb did not send someone with experience spying on people; I had no allies in here, and I would not ally myself with these loathsome human beings even if they paid me. A spy would allow me to get leverage for the future, but it was nothing more than a dream with what I had at my disposal.

"We will talk more when we reach the ship. For now, continue being silent," I murmured to my companions.

Thirty minutes later.

"I feel oily after talking with that man for so long," I shuddered back in the common tongue, finally being away from the prying eyes of the harbor.

"I cannot wait for the arrival of Queen Daenerys," grunted Ser Wendel. "I want to gut them like pigs for their sins."

"You are not the only one, my friend," I grunted. "Slavery was abolished for a reason, but we need to keep silent until she arrives."

"What is the plan, then?" asked Marco, one of the other knights.

"Tomorrow we will start moving to the mansion when Lorar sends his men," I started in a calm voice. "When we finish the transaction, I will go search for him to buy some slaves so that they can work in the manse. Also, we will buy provisions for the sailors who will go back, and the extra gold will be used to buy Unsullied for security. Do not worry; we will free them when we can make sure no one is listening. After that, we will spend the first month learning about the city. I want to know the shakers and movers, everything available."

"I don't like this, but I understand," said Ser Wendel with a grave voice; his face was like it was made from granite. "If it wasn't for Lord Robb's orders, I would gladly give my life to gut them right now, but we will listen, as long as you deliver your promises, Lannister."

"I give you my word, Ser Wendel" I nodded seriously, "The day that Queen Daenerys arrives will be the last of the wise masters, I assure you. And if you don't believe me, believe in your lord."

He nodded seriously at me and sighed, "I wonder what has happened in Westeros since we left."

"I will test the waters tomorrow with some of the slaves. We need to know how the war is going," I replied seriously, I hated being in the dark and being capable of only reacting.

"Now all of you, go to sleep. We have a tiring day tomorrow," I ordered.

---

If you want to support me or read up to 25k words ahead, you can find me on patr*e on . co m (slash) Infinityreads99

 

[ATP]

Well,they should be safe,but what about their ship? if it have problems with 60 soldiers on it,it would be taken by pirates without them.

 

[Raregroove_50]

How will the ship make it back without soldiers ?

 

[InfinityReads999]

Author's Note: Hey guys, we're back! I hope you enjoy this chapter, which many of you have been waiting for! This is the first time Dany appears in my fic, so I hope you like it! I took a break from writing A Stark Shard because I was busy planning the next arc and needed a bit of rest to avoid burnout. You wouldn't believe how much research I do for each chapter—it's a lot, but I love the character interactions, so it's worth it. I also started writing another fanfic, Celestial Ascendancy, an HP/DxD crossover featuring the celestial grimoire, so go check that out if you're interested! Don't worry, I won't drop A Stark Shard! I'll be posting it every 4 days, and as for my other fic, I'll update whenever I have the time.


Daenerys Targaryen.


I sighed, looking at the horizon of the sea. I was thankful to leave Qarth for good finally; my memories of that place were not all pleasant. Having to suffer betrayals and the like for so long was no good for me. Yet, even after all that, I could not deny that I was as happy as I could ever remember being.


My dragons, my children, were flying and chasing each other in the wind, and I smiled when they dove deep into the water in search of food. They were my joy, a reminder of better times. Even if they were born after Drogon's death, they were a stark reminder of my sun and stars.


The Dothraki who followed me were distrustful of the ships; they called the sea the "poison water," distrusting the liquid that their horses would not drink. On the day my ships sailed from Qarth, it appeared as if they were riding to the entrance of hell. Even if some were determined not to show fear, I could see past their facades. It was hard for me to see them so afraid, but it needed to be done if my plan to return to my homeland was to be fulfilled.


But I felt at home; there was something in the sea that calmed my racing thoughts. The Narrow Sea was often stormy, but I had crossed it so many times when I was younger, running from the dogs of the Usurper.


It felt freeing to be here once again, and it only hardened my resolve to fulfill my late brother's dream of going back to Westeros and making the Usurper's family pay for all the wrongs he had done to my family. Being on the run from his hired knives, living dime to dime, going days without food—I hated him so much. After hearing of his death, I felt lost. One of the things that kept me going was the thought of seeing him groveling at my feet, but it was impossible now.


But his blood was still sitting on my throne… or was it, though? I thought with morbid amusement at him being cuckolded by his wife and her twin brother. In the end, it did not matter at all. While I could not extract vengeance from the Usurper, just imagining the Lannisters' suffering made my heart flutter.


Looking at my children, I smiled, seeing them so happy; the faint feelings they provided me through our bonds were capable enough of that. While I could not communicate with them directly, I could feel some of their emotions when they felt like it. I loved seeing them like that, free and flying through the air with no worries. They were getting bigger and bigger, with Drogon being the largest of them all.


"It's wonderful to see them like this, is it not?" I asked aloud, a smile on my face.


"Aye, it is," murmured Ser Jorah at my side, always protecting me. The exiled knight had been with me since Pentos, and while before me he had offered his services to my brother, that changed after some time. He had protected me for so long, and I appreciated his help dearly, even if I was not sure how to respond to his advances. "I would have loved to see the famous dragons of my line before they went extinct," I added softly—Balerion the Black Dread, Vhagar, Meraxes, to name a few. I was sure they were magnificent, and I hoped my children would grow up like them.


My only children, a dark part of my mind whispered harshly. According to the sorcerers in Qarth, I won't be able to have babes anymore without divine intervention, the curse placed upon me by the maegi Mirri Maz Duur. Oh… how I hated her for that reason. The memory of her last moments was one of the most satisfying I had.


The squire Whitebeard was standing vigilant behind all of us, even when it wasn't needed. My people would not harm me. "Balerion the Black Dread was two hundred years old when he breathed his last. From what I've heard, a dragon does not stop growing with age, Your Grace."


I still was not sure what to think of him; he had arrived with Strong Belwas, sent by Magister Illyrio Mopantis to protect me. But I was in no position to say no to more help. I understood enough that I was a weak girl with no army behind my back, and while Viserys had said enough times during my childhood that Westeros awaited our return, I had noticed enough discrepancies about that to doubt it was true.


"You sail from Westeros, Arstan?" I asked him softly.


"Indeed, Your Grace," he said in his usual tone, not showing much emotion or what he was thinking, but I noticed a small turn of his lips, maybe remembering better times. News had not reached us from Westeros for a long time, so we were in the dark about the happenings there. The last thing I heard from there came from Arstan himself, proclaiming the death of the Usurper.


I was meant to be the Queen of Westeros, and I knew almost nothing about them, something I hoped to fix now that he was here. While Ser Jorah tried, I knew that he was biased in his stories and was from one of the most reclusive kingdoms of Westeros.


"Tell me about my father," I asked with a serious tone; it was time I learned the truth.


He was conflicted; I could see it plainly. It appeared that I was correct in my assumption: there was more to the story than Viserys had told me growing up.


"King Aerys was a complicated man," he admitted softly, a storm of emotions on his face for all of us to see. I waited for him to continue, but he was having trouble picking up the words.


"I want the truth, Arstan," I ordered firmly.


He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I had the honor to meet him before the Defiance of Duskendale, Your Grace. Before the Defiance, he cut an imposing figure; he had an appearance of majesty and power."


"Go on," I smiled at him; it was good to learn about my direct family from someone else finally.


"His Grace Aerys Targaryen was considered a charismatic figure and an energetic ruler during the beginning of his reign. He was ambitious and wanted to prove himself. Remember that he sat on the throne when he was twenty years old, Your Grace," he continued, before taking his cane and putting his weight on it, his shoulders relaxing minutely. "However, even at the beginning, he showed some troubling signs of vanity and pride. He could be rash and overreact to perceived slights."


The smile on my face was wiped out so fast that it almost hurt. "Are you telling the truth?" I asked somewhat harshly.


"I am, my queen," he replied firmly. "Like I said, that was before the Defiance… While he had those signs, it was easy to ignore them for the greater good of Westeros. But after that…" He sighed, his expression that of a defeated man.


"What happened after that?" I asked in morbid curiosity.


"You need to remember that he was six moons in captivity, suffering from who knows what, Your Grace," Arstan cautioned. "Are you sure you want me to tell the truth?"


I just nodded mutely. I needed to know, once and for all.


"After Ser Barristan saved him from Duskendale, His Grace had become disheveled and unkempt. His once glorious silver hair grew wild and tangled, as he stopped the servants from cutting or grooming it. His nails, too, grew long and dirty, curling themselves from the length. His eyes burned with paranoia and malice; he grew obsessed with the idea that everyone around him was a threat. Not even his family was spared from this paranoia."


I could feel the sting in my eyes as if thousands of ants were walking in them… It was hard to hear about the failings of my family. But I vowed to be better than them, to be a just ruler.


"Careful with your words, old man," Ser Jorah growled from my side. I could feel the tension rising in the atmosphere, but before I could put a stop to it, a belching sound cut through.


"Burp," could be heard from the stairs, with the eunuch warrior walking toward us. "Strong Belwas has awoken," he said with a large smile on his face. He was a peculiar one, but his skill with a blade could not be denied.


Before Ser Jorah and Arstan could continue their spat, I intervened, ignoring the eunuch for the moment. "I'm sure he meant no harm, Ser Jorah. He answered my question truthfully, unlike some," I finished with a mild glare toward my exiled knight. I had asked about my family numerous times, and he always answered with songs and stories he probably invented. I understood why he had done that, but that did not mean I was not miffed. The truth had been hidden from me for so long.


"Please continue, my friend," I urged after seeing them calm down. There had been hostilities between them ever since the old squire saved me from the manticore. Ser Jorah had been peeved for failing to do so himself, something of his pride as a man that I did not understand, but I was happy to ignore as long as it didn't become a problem. While we were busy, Strong Belwas found some food to eat from who knows where and plopped himself on the floor next to us.


"King Aerys was called the Mad King for a reason, Your Grace. As I said before, he had some disturbing tales even before the Defiance, but after his long stay in that dreary castle, everything became for the worse. It shattered any remnants of his previous mental stability. He became obsessed with treachery and hoped to see his enemies, either real or those he imagined, burn, and burn they did. He ended up being jealous of his Hand, Tywin Lannister since he earned the respect of the smallfolk for being fair and making things work for the better."


Arstan took a deep breath before continuing. "He also hated him for not saving him from his capture to the point where he even doubted him for being the mastermind behind that plot. That is something I don't know, but that did not matter at all. King Aerys ended up sacking him from his position as Hand, and as history has shown us multiple times, Tywin Lannister is not someone to cross lightly."


I took a deep breath. "Is that the reason why he sacked the city to end the rebellion?" I asked with a surprising amount of rage. That action had cost my family dearly, and what happened to my aunt, niece, and nephew was something that kept me up at night. To be capable of doing so much harm to people who did not deserve it was not something I understood.


Arstan nodded his head before shrugging. "I'm sure that was one of the reasons, but it was not the main one. Tywin Lannister ended up hating the king for many different reasons: his admittedly strange infatuation with Tywin Lannister's wife, losing the job of Hand, and probably the worst one of all—the king forcing his heir to join the Kingsguard in petty revenge. From what I know of him, Tywin Lannister cares for only one thing in life: his family name."


I was pensive after hearing that. While the knowledge of the things my father did while he was king hurt to hear, at least I would not be ignorant when I sailed to Westeros in search of the throne. I now knew that I could expect zero to little support from the Westerosi, no matter what Ser Jorah told me. But I also learned about Tywin Lannister's biggest fear, something that I hoped to put to use when I visited him.


"If you'll excuse me, Your Grace." He bowed. "I need to attend to Strong Belwas's needs."


Nodding graciously at him, I thanked him from the bottom of my heart for the honest truths, even if I wondered who he truly was. There was an air of danger around him, and I was sure that was what had Ser Jorah on edge. He moved with surprising ease for someone his age. While it was true that he didn't carry himself like the rest of the hardened men in the city, I somehow knew deep in my mind that he was even more dangerous than my most experienced guards. The only reason I didn't call him out was that I needed all the help I could get, and I did not think he wanted to do me harm.


I could see the way he observed me when he thought I did not notice; it was like he was testing me. For what reason, I could not say. But I could see his eyes on me as I went about my day, and his reactions baffled me. He sometimes had an appreciative smile on his face, while other times he frowned softly. But even if he did not approve of my actions, he did not say a thing to me. There was something else going on, but I hoped he would keep being my companion. I had grown to like him.


"You should be wary of his words, Your Grace," Ser Jorah warned with a deep frown on his face. "I do not trust him, Your Grace. Something is going on with the both of them, and I don't like it."


"I know what you mean, Ser Jorah," I nodded. "But I am in no position to deny all their help."


Ser Jorah grunted. "They were sent by the Magister for your protection, but you need to remember that he supported your brother instead of you. If you blindly trust every schemer who crosses your path, you will end up the same as your brothers, and I don't want that, Your Grace."


His concern was heartwarming, even if it made me angry. The last thing I needed or wanted after all my suffering was to be treated as a kid. He was right, of course, but that did not mean I had to like it.


"I know he is more than what he pretends to be, Ser Jorah." I sighed, before walking back to my room with him in tow. When we entered the room, I ordered Irri and Jhiqui to leave us alone. This was something that needed to be done in secrecy.


"He knows way too much, Your Grace. And he is older than any squire that I have met in my life. Please, I beseech you, don't trust him," Ser Jorah continued. "I have been thinking of something: instead of going directly to Pentos under the protection of the Magister, let's head to the Free Cities. You can buy an army there. That way, you will have a thousand swords under your control and be in a position of power when you meet with him. I am sure he will think twice before crossing you."


I could feel myself getting excited. The plan needed work since the only gold I had available was the one that Qarth gave to me during my stay there, and while it was a substantial amount, it would not be enough for me to buy an army.


"I know slaves are cheap, but I don't believe the gold we have is enough to buy an army, Ser Jorah," I admitted, my spirits dampened. Oh, how I would love to have thousands of soldiers at a similar level to Strong Belwas, but it was impossible for now.


"I'm sure we can manage to get a trade, my queen," he smiled while getting closer to me, but I stepped back and created some distance between us. I knew he had feelings for me, but I felt the need not to succumb to any indiscretion with my knight. Even if I returned his feelings, it was not to be. He could not be the one on my side when I reclaimed the throne, and the hurt I felt from my sun and stars' death had yet to dissipate.


I knew my relationship with Drogo was not a common one, but I grew up to love him. He was surprisingly tender with me after our first night together, something I honestly did not believe when I first saw him in the Magister's manse. The deadpan warrior who visited with his khalasar, the man who saw me and left without a word, making me question my beauty.


"Please, call Irri when you leave, Ser Jorah. I wish to rest before I command the captain to sail to Astapor," I said in a clipped tone. "Make sure my bloodriders rest. I'm sure we will need all the rest we can get before we reach our destination."


Ser Jorah looked hurt at my denial, but he was gentlemanly enough not to push me any further. While I was not sure what I could do to him if he continued, I knew that my blood-riders or my protectors from Pentos would attack before he managed to do something substantial—something I did not wish to see. I could not return his advances, he was not high-born enough for us to be together, but that did not mean I wanted to see him hurt because he failed to control himself.


Lying on my bed, I dreamed of the future, hoping that all my hardships would mean something in the end, and hoping that I could become the just ruler I desired to be. The Targaryen name was in tatters back in Westeros, and the responsibility to take my name and make the people respect it was going to be hard. I hoped to be that and more, and for that, I needed an army.


One Month Later


Daenerys Targaryen.


Finally hearing the captain shouting from the deck that land was in sight, I felt butterflies in my stomach. This was it. We had talked with my advisors about what we could offer the Wise Masters for the Unsullied army; ideas flew from all of them, but in the end, the two options we had were to take advantage of Magister Illyrio and his goods to obtain at least a thousand swords for me to go back to Pentos, and the other one was more dubious. It was proposed by Ser Jorah, and while Arstan did not like the honorless action, even he could not deny that it could work. The only reason he did not object to it was because of who the Wise Masters were. It appeared that to the chivalrous squire, slavery was the lowest of the low, and he did not have a single ounce of compassion for them.


To offer my biggest dragon as payment for all of the army they had at their disposal, and while Arstan objected to slavery quite vehemently, he understood my point, even if it pained him. That did not mean that he stopped trying to make me reconsider.


"Are you sure you want to do this, Your Grace?" he asked seriously. It was probably the last time he would try to make me change my mind before we docked.


"Arstan, I understand your concerns, and I value your honesty," I replied just as seriously. "But I need an army behind me to reclaim my throne. Even if the lords in Westeros oppose me for that, there is no other way for me to obtain such a large and disciplined force."


"Sellswords, my queen," he said, and I admitted that he was almost as stubborn as I was. If I did not value his honesty—something that people denied me for so long—I would have ditched him long ago.


"Sellswords are dishonorable," grunted Ser Jorah. "They can be bought; they will change their allegiance when someone else offers a bigger bid for their services, and the Lannisters have more gold than any of us can imagine."


The old squire narrowed his eyes. "I know that you have experience being a slaver yourself, Ser Jorah Mormont. But a queen cannot be seen breaking the law of her homeland, even if it is needed. The law exists for a reason. Ever since the Seven Kingdoms united under the banner of Aegon the Conqueror, slavery has been prohibited for all, even the royal family."


Ser Jorah stood up in fury, taking his sword from its scabbard and pointing it toward the old squire. I took a few precious seconds to see what he would do, considering he was unarmed, but besides gripping his cane tightly and the tightening in his eyes, he did not make any overt moves.


"Enough!" I shouted with as much force as I could. "I will not have my people fighting among ourselves. Arstan, you were out of line." I glared at him, but he just bowed his head in submission before closing his mouth. "And you, Ser Jorah. Enough with the attitude you have against Strong Belwas and his squire. I know you don't trust them, but until they show they wish to go against me, you will respect them."


"As you command, Your Grace," he nodded grimly, clearly unhappy that I did not support him against the protectors sent by the Magister. But what Arstan said was the truth; there were other ways, but I could not deny that I was anxious and in need of an army.


Taking a deep breath, I observed everyone on deck. "I made a decision, and I ask all of you to trust me. It will be the best of both paths." I glared at them to oppose me.


Seeing them all silent, I nodded in satisfaction, the beginning of a plan running a mile a minute in my mind. I did not wish to be seen as a slaver who brought the act back to Westeros like a tyrannical ruler, mad as my father. But I also needed the men, and what better way to take the army than freeing them from their shackles, making them free of obligations?


I knew that such a move would be honorable enough to gain the support of whoever Arstan truly was, and I would still get my army. While I was sure to lose some swords who decided not to follow me, his honesty was something I appreciated more than a thousand swords, if I was honest with myself.


Seeing the harbor close, I walked toward the center of the deck, looking into the eyes of every follower of mine. "I ask you to trust me, trust that I will make the best decisions I can in my situation. I want to be a just ruler for my people, and while my next actions may seem dubious to some of you, I ask you to show your support for me in the faces of the Wise Masters. I want them to see that we are a united front. Wait until the end of my plan; at that point, I will hear all of your grievances."


I smiled at seeing their nods of agreement, along with a couple of shouts from my blood riders.


"Remember that we will only speak Dothraki and Common Tongue during our stay in Astapor. That way, we can have an advantage over the Wise Masters," I said firmly. And while only Arstan and I spoke High Valyrian, I wanted my followers to show incomprehension when the Masters spoke.


Getting my serious face on, I started walking toward the docks where some slaves were working for their masters. Their faces, full of despair or acceptance, only hardened my resolve for my next steps.


Before we could all disembark, a group of cloaked men approached us. Seeing them looking all mysterious, I raised my eyebrow while my blood riders, Arstan, Ser Jorah, and Strong Belwas walked in front of me in case a fight broke out.


"Lady Daenerys," the one in the lead greeted us, his face covered with a wooden mask. The man slowly looked at every one of my defenders, and I noticed that his gaze lingered a little longer on Ser Jorah and Arstan than on the rest of us. He raised his hands to show he was unarmed.


I wondered who he was. He was expecting me, something that should not have been possible since the change of destination happened at sea. Another maegi, I wondered.


"We have been expecting you, my lady," he said firmly. He was a big man, buff almost like Strong Belwas, maybe even more than my protector. His arms were the size of my torso, and I did not doubt for a moment that he could break me with his hands alone.


"You are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Dothraki, and mother of dragons. Pay your respects," said Ser Jorah with a threatening tone.


"Silence, you disgusting slaver. I was not talking to you," snorted the man in the lead, glaring at Ser Jorah with a surprising amount of venom in his gaze. "She is not my queen yet, something that can change in the future. But until then, she will receive the respect she deserves for being a lady of her house."


Before this conversation could escalate to something I did not desire at this moment, I intervened.


"Who are you, good Ser?" I asked. "How did you know we would sail to Astapor?"


"I might be a friend of yours, Lady Daenerys," he said with morbid amusement, something that weirded me out since I could only see his eyes. Some people said that the eyes were the entrance to the soul, and at this moment, I knew they spoke the truth. This masked man's eyes were expressive enough for me to discern that he did not wish me harm, though I could not say the same for Ser Jorah.


Before I could respond, the immense man continued, "If you would be so gracious as to follow me, my lord is waiting for you in his manse. You can take whoever you want with you if you want their protection. You will be offered bread and salt at the entrance of the manse to show that we mean you no harm at all, my lady."


I was silent for a moment before nodding my head. "My blood riders, stay in the galley and protect it with your lives. I will be back when we finish dealing with this supposed lord," I said with a calm smile, even if I was not that confident about the situation. If this lord wanted me to be on my back foot for this meeting, he was doing a wonderful job accomplishing it. "Ser Jorah, Strong Belwas, Arstan, you will follow me to see what he wants."


Ser Jorah opened his mouth to complain, but I shook my head firmly. This lord had gained my undivided attention with this move, my curiosity getting the better of me.


"Lead the way, good Ser," I told the leader. "I trust that you are honorable enough not to try something underhanded."


The big man guffawed, his laugh booming in the harbor, loud enough that some slaves turned their gazes toward us. I also noticed that his laugh seemed to confuse Ser Jorah as if he had heard it sometime in the past but could not figure out from where.


"Do not worry, little lady," he said firmly, and I could almost see a smile on his face from his tone. "My people are as honorable as they come; you can be sure of that. All this cloak and dagger will end when we are safe in the manse."


Following him with my small group, I turned my gaze to observe the city. When we were close to the harbor, the buildings seemed to be brimming with life, even if it was not the good kind. There were so many slaves, with their obese masters whipping them for whatever they wanted. It was hard to watch and not do something, and I knew I wasn't the only one feeling that. Arstan was gripping his cane so tightly that I could see his knuckles whiten; Belwas was looking at the surroundings with a surprisingly carefree smile on his face. Maybe seeing that brought memories of his childhood. I didn't know if they were good, but I could not say that he was a deep thinker on his best days. He had learned to enjoy the small moments of his life.


Ser Jorah was the only one who looked, while not unaffected, at least uncaring of the plight of these slaves—something that made me angry, but I did not show it.


The farther away from the harbor, we went, the less populated the area became, filled only with poor people who weren't slaves but also weren't highborn. I think we reached the slums of the city before long, but it was something that took my breath away. The buildings were in disrepair, but there were smallfolk and slaves alike with smiles on their faces, walking in the streets in peace in search of something that I could see were kitchens, filled with Unsullied and servants cooking whatever they could to fill their bellies.


"It is hard to watch this, is it not?" the leader asked softly, and I nodded mutely. The situation of the city sickened me, but what I was seeing right now filled me with hope that there was good in the world.


"Is your lord responsible for this?" I asked just as softly, smiling at the children who ran toward us with smiles on their faces, hugging the cloaked men and looking at me with curiosity.


"Indeed, my lady," he replied with a gentle tone. "I did not know he had it in him to help these poor people, but he earned our loyalty with this action."


"He must be a great man," I murmured. "How long until we arrive, good ser?"


"That he is, my lady," he replied, looking at me with those expressive eyes of his. "And we have arrived; it's the manse in front of us."


Looking at it from the outside, I could see that it was a manse as grandiose as the ones from the Wise Masters near the harbor. While I could see that it was damaged, it was beautiful in its own right. The red bricks contrasted with the dimming sun at this hour, probably making it grander than it normally was.


"Come on in, my lady," the leader said, walking toward the entrance where another small group waited for us. This one consisted solely of servants and Unsullied, but they were different from the ones in the middle of the harbor; for once, they had small smiles on their faces.


"We offer you bread and salt," he said grandiosely, gazing at the cute little servant who was a beauty in her own right. She had delicate features, with high cheekbones, expressive golden eyes, and a petite and slender frame, just like me.


She approached us somewhat timidly, her unsure steps gaining courage with each of them, and before long, she was in front of us.


"My lady," she curtsied and said in a surprisingly clear Old Tongue.


"What is your name, child?" I asked softly, noticing the marred skin on her back. They were old wounds, and I hoped from the bottom of my heart that this lord was not the one responsible for them.


"Missandei, my lady," she replied, more relaxed than before.


Before long, the ceremony ended, and we followed the leader to what appeared to be a meeting room. It was gracefully decorated, and the table was filled with food that made my stomach growl. It was a long journey from Qarth, and the food at sea could not compare with this.


In the middle of the room, a figure sat, looking as regal as the ones from his companions, his face hidden from view thanks to the mask. He was small, smaller than any man I had ever seen in all my travels, almost the size of a child.


"My lady Daenerys," he said with a happy but mysterious voice, "you have no idea how long I have been waiting for you to arrive here."


The sharp intake of breath from Arstan was the last thing I heard before my gaze zeroed in on the small figure with a grown man voice.

---

If you want to support me or read up to 25k words ahead, you can find me on patr*e on . co m (slash) Infinityreads99

 

[ATP]

I hope,that Barristan would not attack Tyrion.But,if notching bad happen,everytching should happen according to canon.

 

[Wallaperi]

I am very glad I found this fic.

Thanks OP, this is a fun read!

 

[InfinityReads999]

Author's Note:
Last chapter of our beloved Queen; we return to Robb in the next chapter.

Tyrion Lannister.

Astapor.

I loved entering any conversation with the upper hand; the giddiness I felt at this moment was something I could not help. I knew that the only reason Ser Barristan had not started a scuffle in the villa was that we had performed the bread and salt ceremony. Still, I had no doubt he knew my identity. I had spent a lot of time in King's Landing even before my banishment from the Westerlands, and while my stays back then were temporary, after the banishment, I remained there permanently.

My work with Lady Elyse had me visiting the Red Keep frequently, mainly to give reports to the Small Council and to wait for their decisions. For that reason, I knew that Ser Barristan knew my voice by heart. I had to give the old knight props for the disguise; if I had not known who he was thanks to Robb, there was a possibility I might have found out much later. His hair and beard had grown significantly, and he no longer had the regal quality of the past. He did not look much like a knight of his caliber should.

But even then, the only reason no one knew who he was, was because no one in Essos expected someone like him to act as a squire of a eunuch, besides him not using a sword at all.

I smiled, knowing they couldn't see my face, and took my time observing each of my visitors. Jorah Mormont was a danger to Robb's plans, but he would be disposed of soon enough; just a few words spoken before the future queen, and he would be of no consequence. Then there was Ser Barristan Selmy, someone I had great respect for, even if sometimes he held his oaths more dearly than others. It was not my place to tell, but I would like to think I would have done something to help the last queen from her suffering under her husband. The fat eunuch made me pause; there was not much information about him in the message, but the little Robb said was believable upon seeing him in the flesh for the first time.

He was a huge man, weighing probably fifteen stones, maybe more. I did not doubt for a moment that he could squash me like a bug if he so desired. Against the eunuch and "squire," I doubted the presence of the Manderly men would save me if push came to shove. Thankfully, there was no need for bloodshed in this meeting, and I hoped to begin ingraining myself with the little queen.

I understood now why Robb decided to marry her; dragons or not, she was a beauty. While too young for me to appreciate fully, she was perfect for someone like Robb Stark. She carried herself with a weight far beyond her years, showing the hardships she had to overcome to reach this place.

She had been hardened by all the hardships she had to suffer during her exile, and thankfully, the late Viserys had not harmed her thanks to her value, something she probably didn't realize. It was something I needed to talk about with her in the future, to take the rose-tinted glasses she had toward her family. While I would not fault her for the sins they committed, some people would do so just out of spite.

Her silver-gold hair almost glimmered, even after being at sea for a moon-long journey, demonstrating why people said Targaryen looks were as deadly as swords. Seeing her made me realize she had been born to rule; there was something about her that made me believe that quite easily.

"May I know who I am speaking with?" Daenerys asked softly, gazing hard at Ser Barristan, who began to fidget upon hearing my voice.

"You may, Lady Daenerys," I smiled at her, lifting my mask to reveal my identity.

"Tyrion Lannister," spat Ser Jorah at her side, instantly reaching for his sword.

The exiled princess's face went blank after that declaration, with Strong Belwas inching closer to her in case something happened. Ser Barristan was still shaking off his stupor but quickly regained control to do what he needed. The old knight took his staff and gripped it with enough force that it creaked.

"Indeed," I nodded, "but I ask you to respect the rules of hospitality. We had given you bread and salt, after all. It would be a shame to bring the wrath of the gods if we were to spill blood in such an important meeting."

The princess looked at me critically, probably wondering if she should trust me. Good; at least she had a good head on her shoulders, I was after all a member of the family that caused her the most heartache.

She lifted a hand to the rest of her companions. "We will hear what he has to say; after that, we are leaving."

Giving her a small smile, I pointed at the food on the table. "Please, help yourself, my lady. The servants prepared a feast for you. It would be a shame for it to spoil."

The Manderly men took their seats beside me, leaving the other chairs for the future queen's entourage, with enough space to react if someone tried to attack.

Strong Belwas was the first to take his seat, starting to eat almost immediately, causing me to snort; I could already tell he was somewhat of a lackwit.

Taking a moment to compose herself, she shared a look with Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan in disguise, with Ser Barristan giving her a nod.

Before long, the table was filled with silence, a palpable tension hanging in the air, but people began eating, excluding the Manderly men, since Ser Jorah would recognize them easily. I did not want him to run off just yet.

"What are you doing so far from King's Landing when your family is at war, my lord?" Daenerys asked seriously, taking some lamb for her plate.

Poor thing; my heart went out to her. I could not imagine how hard her life had been in exile. Thankfully, I was in a position to help her.

"My family and I do not see eye to eye, Lady Daenerys," I replied softly. "You can ask that man over there if you want another opinion," I pointed at Ser Barristan.

The old knight almost choked on his food, causing me to stifle a snort. Oh, how I loved messing with him in this moment, to see such a renowned knight fidget in his seat.

The queen gazed at him intently, and I could not help but laugh out loud, causing her to look at me quizzically.

"I think you can see she is a worthy queen to follow, Arstan Whitebeard," I snorted. "You can stop hiding your identity. Believe me, she, along with whom I follow, will make Westeros great again if the gods permit it."

"Truly? How can you be so sure?" he asked, gazing at me as if he could see right through my eyes to my soul.

I just gave him a firm nod, and it was true. I honestly believed that Daenerys and Robb could unite Westeros once more, just as Aegon Targaryen had during his conquest—perhaps even better than him since they could look at history and avoid his mistakes.

He sighed, looking into Daenerys's eyes. "I ask for forgiveness, Your Grace. I just wished to learn more about your character before I made my decision."

The queen looked at him seriously. "I already knew you were hiding your identity, Ser. You are far too old to be a squire, and even more telling was your ability to handle a sword."

Ser Barristan nodded his head proudly at her before bending his knee toward Daenerys. "My name is Barristan Selmy, Your Grace, and I want to offer my sword to you."

The queen gasped at hearing his name, and I allowed a smile to spread across my face. I was witnessing history; my name would go into the annals of history, and unlike my father, it would show me as a good person, not a monster.

Clapping to show my appreciation but also to steer the moment back on track, I continued, "I know my opinion might not matter much to you, but I can vouch for him, my lady. He had no ulterior motives for hiding who he was; he just wanted to see if you were a sane ruler, not like your father. Westeros is still wounded after his reign."

Daenerys looked at me sharply before sighing. "I recently heard about the atrocities he committed, and I assure you I do not wish to be like him."

"Oh, I know," I said enigmatically, trying to project the image of someone who knew more than the rest. "I can assure you that Ser Barristan will do magnificent work as your Queensguard, even giving his life for yours if that were needed."

"But what an intriguing group of people follow you—an exiled knight turned spy for the crown, the best sword in Westeros, and the finest fighter the Meereen fighting pits ever created." I smiled and lifted my goblet of wine in a mock toast.

The reaction was immediate: the eunuch stopped eating almost instantly, Ser Barristan stood up with more speed than someone his age should have, and the queen let out an almost sob before she composed herself, all three of them looking at the frozen knight.

When that happened, my men moved, taking off their masks and advancing toward the frozen knight. They took his arms to hold him in place while Ser Wendel delivered a blow to his face that I could feel reverberate through my body.

"You don't have any idea how long we've wanted to do this, slaver," Ser Wendel spat on his face. "Not only a slaver but a treasonous cunt to boot."

Daenerys stood up, tears in her eyes, her body shaking almost uncontrollably. "Tell me the truth, Ser Jorah."

The kneeling man tried to move, but the Manderly men would not budge. "It's not what you think it is, Your Grace," he wept. "I tried to tell you half a hundred times. I saved you from the poison. I warned you about Arstan not being who he claimed. I warned you that Xaro and Pyat Pree were not to be trusted—"

"You only wanted me to trust you and you alone!" Daenerys shouted. "Trust no one but Jorah Mormont. All this time, you wanted me for yourself!"

I kept my silence, looking with morbid amusement at the last moments of Jorah Mormont. He was a danger, and his grace wanted him gone, away from the queen lest he try something untoward to her. I was happy to oblige, to be honest. There was not a single speck of understanding in me toward the bear knight.

"My queen, please forgive me. It's true, I took the gold from the eunuch. I read and wrote some ciphers, but that's all I did. You have to believe me." He was already begging, and I tried to hide my amusement.

"How long did you do that?" she almost snarled at his face.

"For a time," he said grudgingly. "I swear I stopped, Your Grace."

The queen was already cleaning her face of the stains from her tears, her expression almost blank in the face of such betrayal. "When did you stop? Was it before my sun-and-stars died? When you offered me running away to Yi Ti or somewhere far to have me for yourself?"

My eyebrows raised at that comment. I had to respect the man for having the balls to try something like that.

"My last report was from Qarth—" he said, his face held down. The poor man couldn't even look the queen in the eye because I wanted to avoid that situation. I knew they had been close for a long while, and I wanted to keep feelings at bay before they could convince the queen to let him live for whatever feelings she had toward him. Ser Wendel and the rest already had orders for that, just in case it happened, even after all my precautions.

"From Qarth?" she asked, shocked. That had been not long ago; even I could feel the sting of betrayal, and I wasn't even involved.

"They knew I was with a child because of you. Was that because of your jealousy?" Daenerys asked heatedly.

Before he could respond, I intervened. "Indeed, he was the one who shared that tidbit of information, my lady."

Daenerys jumped to her feet, and I felt somewhat offended since that meant she had forgotten my presence, but I just smiled genially at her.

"How would you know, Imp? Wasn't your family the one who sent all those assassins after her?" spat Ser Jorah, trying to lift his head to look at her, but my men would not let him.

"My king knows a lot of things," I replied mysteriously. "You have no idea; I know of all the messages you sent to the Spider. I know the reason why you did it in the first place."

"Reason? King?" murmured Daenerys.

"Indeed, my lady. The latter will be discussed when we have the time and fewer problematic figures present, I assure you. But as for Ser Jorah's reasons, he wanted a pardon for his crimes, to be allowed to return to Westeros as a free man, and the king was happy to grant it if it meant the last 'dragon spawn' was dealt with." I mimicked the quotes with my hands. "Quite funny, since you planned to return to Westeros either way. I'm afraid our fellow here lacks some common sense."

The queen's face purpled with rage, and I was grateful that the dragons weren't here, as I did not want the recently repaired hall to be burned in their fury.

"I want him secured," she said through gritted teeth. "If you would be so kind to prepare him, my lord?"

"Gladly, my lady," I smiled at her. "Go on, boys. I know you have waited for this a long time. Just make sure you don't kill him."

Ser Wendel smiled toothily. "It will be our pleasure," and with that, they took him to the back rooms.

"You knew about him!" shouted Daenerys at Ser Barristan. "Why did you not say anything?"

"He was useful while alive, Your Grace," Ser Barristan replied with a shrug. He had a hint of shame on his face, but it was quickly squashed under pragmatism. "I was always close, just in case anything happened. I would not allow him to put you at risk."

She was conflicted; I could tell easily, but I needed to have this conversation before she started her crusade against the Good Masters.

"My lady, if you would like somewhere to rest before we continue?" I offered softly knowing that she would not accept.

Daenerys shook her head. "No, let's get this over with."

"All right," I replied. "As my companions told you in the harbor, we have been waiting for you for a long time. I was sent here as a gift to serve as your advisor during your stay in Essos before you return to Westeros."

"That sounds wonderful and all, my lord. But every gift has a price," Daenerys said, shaking her head. "Tell me, what do you want from me?"

"Good," I said. "My king wants to fulfill a pact between both of your families."

"A pact? What pact are you talking about?" asked Daenerys, showing a confused look.

Ser Barristan's eyes opened wide. "The North—had they been preparing for this for the last five years?" he asked in shock.

"Indeed, Ser Barristan," I smiled. "He is probably already being called The King of the North, King Robb Stark, wants to fulfill the pact between the Starks and the Targaryens. He sent me here to help the queen as an advisor, and hopefully a friend, in how to govern a country while he prepares Westeros for her return. He wished for your hand in marriage so that they both can rule."

Daenerys was silent for a moment as she furrowed her brows. "A pact with the North? What do you know about it, Ser Barristan?"

"It was in a book I read in the Red Keep, Your Grace. The Pact of Ice and Fire was made by Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and House Stark. She sent her son Jacaerys to Winterfell to ask for support from the Starks and a pact was made between them: a princess of Targaryen blood would marry a son of Cregan Stark. This led to Cregan and the famous Hour of the Wolf, but the pact was never fulfilled. While Cregan Stark received coin and honor for his actions, no son of his was wed to the Targaryen line."

The queen took it all in. "Why should I trust him?"

Before I could speak, Ser Barristan answered, "The Starks are known for their honor, Your Grace. If they make a promise, their words are enough for you to trust them."

"As Ser Barristan says, Lady Daenerys. His grace promises an equal marriage; in his own words, he does not need a trophy wife. He wants, needs, a wife of equal stature—someone who can push him to be better, as he does the same for her." I continued, "I know him better than most, and I assure you, he made compelling points as to why this would be the best course of action."

"What do you know about him, Ser Barristan?" she asked seriously, and I stayed quiet. There wasn't much I could do to convince her; I was a complete unknown to her, so it was clear I needed to depend on Ser Barristan before I could ingratiate myself in her inner circle. My plan for now was to support her in her quest to liberate Slaver's Bay while also trying to mitigate the mistakes Robb said she would make.

There were many topics in his letter, but if they were true, I could fix a lot before the situation became dire. Losing Astapor to the Butcher King, and the Sons of the Harpy in Meereen—those were common mistakes, and I did not fault her for committing them. But with me here, at least I could make the damage tolerable. We had time, after all. There was no way for Robb to acquire sufficient galleys to move all of the army Lady Daenerys could muster here quickly unless he attacked the Ironborn and took all their ships—something I was not sure he was capable of. I needed to learn what was happening in Westeros fast; I hated being in the dark.

"I don't know much about him, Your Grace," Ser Barristan admitted. "I only heard his name in passing while I was on the Small Council. But the smallfolk and the North in general love him. It was said that he was the reason for the prosperity the North has enjoyed in the last half-decade."

Ser Barristan took a swig of his cup of northern vodka, savoring it in silence while he gathered his thoughts. "As you may have heard, the North was the poorest of the Seven Kingdoms, or at least the kingdom that suffered the most during winter. The motto of House Stark is 'Winter is Coming.' This was because the winter in the North was particularly dreadful. It is the biggest kingdom of all, but its population was on a lower scale for its size. Parents and older brothers were known to go hunting on the worst nights of winter in hopes of procuring food for the vulnerable. If they were successful, they would live to see another day and feed those who needed it most. If they failed, at least they would not become a burden for the young ones, leaving them the scarce food available to survive."

"That's horrible," gasped the exiled princess. "How could the crown allow that to happen?" she asked, thinly veiling her horror.

Ser Barristan sighed. "Your Grace, one thing I learned during my work at King's Landing is that no king cares for the people. The North suffers the most. Even the late King Robert, who was the best friend of the Warden of the North and grew up with him in the Eyrie, did nothing for them."

"Indeed, my lady," I interrupted. "The king even sent me as part of a delegation some years ago with the task of finding out why the North stopped buying food from the Reach after they became capable of feeding their people by themselves. The lords of the Reach were unsatisfied with the amount of gold they could bleed out of the North for food. The North had always depended on the Reach during the worst winters. Their lands were not fertile thanks to the weather; snow so high you could die buried in it is common even in the mildest winters."

"Aye," Ser Barristan nodded. "All the kingdoms took advantage of them to bleed them dry," he said shamefully. "But that changed five years ago when Lord Robb Stark suffered an accident on the outskirts of Winterfell."

"According to the songs, the young lord suffered a wound to the head in mysterious circumstances. The smallfolk found him wandering with a bleeding head through the town. When he fell unconscious, he was sent to the maester to be saved. According to the few spies the Spider had at that time in the North, the young lord's attitude changed for the better after that incident. That's not to say he was a bad person before, but you could say he was not someone worth spying on."

I snorted at that. "I'm sure Lord Varys is regretting now having only so many spies over there."

Ser Barristan shared my amusement, having no love for the eunuch. "Aye. Like I was saying, Your Grace. After that incident, we started hearing a lot about the young lord. For the next couple of years, he earned the moniker 'The Ghost of the North' for everything he did during his travels. A lad of only two and ten, on a journey through the North, killing all the bandits he could find, saving the smallfolk from their vile clutches. He even ended the house of one of their vassals; the Boltons were one of the strongest houses in the North, feared even in other kingdoms. They were known for flaying their enemies in the past before it was prohibited by the Starks after a failed rebellion. It is said that after Lord Robb killed the last lord and heir, they found some supposed skins of Starks of old in their dungeons."

"A nasty history, that of that house," I added seriously. "The last Lord Bolton was known as the Leech Lord, a cold and calculating man who followed Eddard Stark during the rebellion against your family, Lady Daenerys. He also battled against the Ironborn less than a decade ago."

"He sounds... adequate," sniffed the princess, and I did not bother to hide my snort.

"That is not all," I laughed. "He entered the Dreadfort in the night, accompanied only by six or seven men-at-arms, all youths even then. The heirs of Houses Umber and Karstark, along with Theon Greyjoy, the ward of Winterfell, Jon Snow, his bastard brother, and Jory Cassel, the nephew of the master at arms of the castle. If I remember correctly. The oldest one was barely twenty-name days old. They entered one of the most feared castles in all of Westeros and took the lord and heir outside without anyone noticing."

The princess's eyebrows rose high at hearing that. After all, it was something rarely heard in history. The biggest example of that was Ser Barristan saving the Mad King from his capture. It was no easy feat, and to hear of a lad without a hair on his chest capable of doing what the best sword of Westeros was capable of was hard to believe.

"I won't bore you with too many details, my lady. I'm sure we will get to know each other during our stay in Slaver's Bay. If you want, you can keep grilling Ser Barristan for information about him. We will support you until you've decided on King's Robb's offer," I said with a calm smile. "For now, I think it's better to talk about your plan to obtain the Unsullied."

"Oh? You expect me to believe you know something I just decided and haven't told anyone in my retinue?" she asked confusion and not a little heat in her voice.

"Yes, my lady," I smirked. "One of the advantages of working with someone like his grace."

"Go on, tell me, Ser Tyrion. What have I planned?" she asked curiously, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"To offer your biggest dragon as payment for all of the Unsullied available," I said coyly. "Then ordering all of them to butcher all the Good Masters present. A marvelous plan, I admit. I'm filled with wonder at what you'll become when you are older."

The princess's eyes got progressively bigger, her heartache over the betrayal by her trusted knight forgotten by the surprise of my knowledge, just as I planned.

"How?" she asked, arching her eyebrows.

Ser Barristan stood up at the beginning of my sentence but calmed down after hearing what she planned to do to regain her dragons.

"Like I said, my lady. Let me help you during your stay in Slaver's Bay, and you will find out all of the advantages of this offer from his grace," I said graciously. "I'm sure we will all look back on this moment in the future and be glad we worked together."

The princess was silent for a moment, considering the offer. I could see she was enthusiastic and hopeful about it. After all, one house was waiting for her return, offering help in reclaiming the throne, and knowing the history of her family, I was sure that meant a lot to her.

"All right, Lord Tyrion. I will allow you to stay with us," she said graciously. "And I wish to hear more about your king during our stay."

"Easily done, my lady," I smiled, extending my hand for her to shake. "Now, before you retire to rest, what do you want to do with the betrayer?"

Her face went blank. "Do as you wish, my lord."

Next Day

"I want them all," Daenerys said firmly in the Old Tongue. "How many Unsullied are ready?"

"This whore has no gold to buy more than one of thousands, and she wants all the nine and thousand available?" the Good Master said with a contemptuous smile.

Daenerys waited for the words to be translated, but I could see the tightening of her eyes at the insult. These Good Masters were digging their graves without a care in the world. It was amusing, to be honest; they acted all high and mighty when the reason for their power was so easily snatched.

"The Good Master says that the princess only has enough to buy one thousand Unsullied," the translator said boredly, an old man with graying hair standing by the five brokers.

"What if we add a dragon to the offer?" she said, acting as if she reached a difficult decision.

Intakes of breath were heard all around us, and I gladly played my part alongside Ser Barristan and the rest of the Manderly men. Not all of us were present, but Ser Wendel along with a unit were there for our protection. While according to Robb this would work, I didn't want to leave it to chance for any of us to be injured.

The Manderly men were giddy since last night, finally able to serve the long-needed justice against Ser Jorah Mormont, who if the queen asked, was already dead. In truth, the rest of the units along with their commanders were taking turns with him in a secret dungeon in the manse.

The Good Masters were shocked by the offer, and it was easy to see the greed in their eyes. I couldn't fault them; having a dragon at their beck and call was something they would not even dream of, and right now it was within their grasp.

"Done," they agreed in their thick Valyrian.

With their agreement, the queen ordered the blood riders to bring Drogon to the Good Masters, and everyone held their breath.

"The whip, to the queen," one of them said while handing the object, something that would be the final action in their disgusting lives.

Daenerys smiled, sweetly at first, but then it turned bloodthirsty. "It is done," she shouted at the top of her lungs. "You, Unsullied, belong to me!"

Drogon started fussing and pulling at the rope held by the Good Master, who tried to control the magnificent beast to no avail.

"A dragon is not a slave," she said firmly, lashing down as hard as she could toward the face of the slaver.

Everyone was in shock at the scene, and the dragon took the opportunity to free himself from the rope around his neck. He spread his wings and roared for all to hear.

"Drogon!" she cried to the sky. "Dracarys…"

And hell broke loose in the red city.

---

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[Wallaperi]

Hall yeah! Burninate the assholes!

Ty op.