A Game of Thrones: A Stark Shard.

[InfinityReads999]

Author's Note:Hey guys, this is a slow chapter, but it is important to show what each kingdom is doing. Obviously, I will not do so one after another since that would waste too much time. But yeah, since the North will be the main kingdom in the future, I needed to show what was happening while Robb is busy in the South. Also, I tried to illustrate Ned's mentality; in my opinion, he is somewhat of an overthinker, so he is blaming himself a lot. However, I tried to show him pushing past that by seeing his children do so much and all that. Let me know what you think.

Important Note:
Hey guys, sorry for the delay... Like I told my subscribers, things really hit the fan in my family last week. I won't bore you with too many details, but my mother was laid off from her job on Thursday, and she was the sole earner in my family. It was a really tough thing to deal with, especially since she had worked at that company for almost thirty years. So yeah, things went downhill, and that news hit me hard. A lot will have to change in my family because of this, and even if she manages to find another job, the pay will obviously be much lower.

I study in another city, and my mother helped me with those expenses, so right now I'm debating if going back home next year is the best idea, since I'm nowhere near being self-sufficient.

Ugh, life sucks... but there's nothing else I can do but face it head-on. Wish me luck, guys/gals. If you'd like to help, I'd really appreciate it if you could share this fic so more people can see it since that at least brings some joy.

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Eddard Stark

Winterfell

I didn't know why everything went to hell. No… I did, it was because I tried to do the honorable thing and save the Lannister children, giving Cersei the opportunity to flee. I didn't expect that she would answer in the way she did. Killing her husband, taking control of the throne with her forces, and ignoring Robert's last wishes.

It shouldn't have surprised me; not everyone put the same weight in their honor as I did, but that just meant I had been foolish.

Foolish to help Cersei, foolish to trust Littlefinger, foolish to leave Winterfell trying to help my best friend even with all the bad feelings his visit gave me.

And the ending of my honorable action? War, I started a war that consumed the Riverlands, the lands of my Catelyn were burning because of me.

I always believed that doing the right thing was the best course of action, speaking the truth, and honoring the promises made. But the path I paved since my youth, since Robert's Rebellion, felt twisted, a road paved with corpses. My friend, Robert, dead. My family, scattered, trying their best to fix my mistakes, the North bleeding, my men dying in a war that was my fault. My logic said that this war would have started even without my meddling, but a nagging voice inside my head whispered that everything was my fault, that I started it, and thousands of people have died and it was my fault.

I tried to protect the realm. I tried to save them. Yet here I am, a father who has failed his children, a lord who failed to protect his people, a man whose honor cost him so much.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even notice someone approaching me, startling me when I felt a soft hand on my shoulder.

"Husband," Cat said with a soft tone in her voice, and I couldn't help but smile slightly. Even after everything, here she was supporting me when I needed it the most.

It had been only a week since we reached Winterfell after Robb saved me from the Lannisters' clutches, and seeing her hurting but supporting me all the same lifted my spirits. I couldn't even imagine what would become of me if I didn't have her in my life in these harrowing times. Cat, Sansa, Arya, and the rest of the children were what helped me the most. Something I was sure Robb took into consideration before sending me here.

The thought of Robb gave me a surge of pride in my chest. He had become everything a Stark should embody. Honorable, ruthless, capable, and most importantly, a caring person. He honestly cared for his people, and with his actions, he had become the King of these lands. It was not done; a child wasn't called a King if his sire was still alive, but the people of the North did so because he was the one who could lead us to greatness.

He was like the Starks of old, nothing like me. I knew of the whispers of my fellow lords; they disliked the decisions I took, they felt I wasn't Northerner enough, sometimes that I was weak, and I couldn't deny it. I was only a second son, I shouldn't have been thrust into the position of the Warden of the North, it wasn't my fate to do so. But the Mad King came, and then Father had to die, with Brandon dying not long after. And here I was, thrust into a position I shouldn't have, I was never taught how to do this work, and while I tried my best, I knew it wasn't enough.

Shaking my head, I tried to focus on the present, tilting my head, and leaning into the support of my wife.

"Cat," I said softly, "How are the children?"

"They are well, Ned," she replied, "Sansa has been following Lady Elise like a lost pup, trying to learn everything she can when she is not helping around the castle."

I smiled upon hearing that. Sansa had matured so much in this short amount of time. I always knew she was intelligent, and I couldn't thank Robb enough when he showed us the peak Sansa could reach with the proper nurturing.

It all started all those years ago when Robb had the proposition to teach Sansa how to be a true lady of the North, learning alongside him and the other boys under Maester Luwin, and she took the lessons like a fish to water. I snorted at that thought, considering the Tullys' banner. But that wasn't all, she was a true political beast, better than anyone in the family even with her younger age. She learned and learned until there was no more, and Luwin was so happy with it that he continued nurturing her, often approaching me to take her to court so that she could learn in practice, asking for her opinion in alliances, bartering with merchants, and talking with the smallfolk.

"That is good," I sighed, "I just wish she could enjoy her life as a kid her age should."

"She is happy helping the family, dear," Cat replied, and I felt a knot in my stomach hearing that. It was because of my actions that she couldn't play or do other childish things to pass the time. Instead, she worked from waking up until dawn trying to fix the mess I made.

Cat, seeing this, jabbed me softly in the head. "None of that, dear," she huffed. "I don't know how many times we need to say this, but this is not your fault."

I lowered my head, knowing that if I couldn't show weakness outside my solar, Cat was the one who had seen me at my most vulnerable and loved me despite this.

"It doesn't feel that way," I sighed. "If I hadn't trusted Littlefinger, if I didn't try to save Cersei, none of this would have happened."

Catelyn sighed, her hand moving along my head with surprising tenderness. "Your honor is one of the reasons I fell in love with you, dear."

Taking a deep breath, she continued, "You made mistakes, we cannot say the opposite, but you did them because it was the right thing to do. It is not your fault that other people see honor as something that can be used only when they gain something out of it."

"Besides that, stop thinking about them. I'm sure Robb will make them pay for their sins." She continued with an air of certainty, and with what we had heard, she might be right.

News traveled slowly in Westeros, but since we came back to Winterfell, we heard about his victory against the Freys. The same nagging voice in my head that told me everything was my fault condemned Robb's ruthlessness against the male line of Freys, but logically I knew he had done the best he could. They had been blocking the access to the south, neglecting their oath to their liege lords.

Walder Frey's character was known to me; I had to personally deal with him during Robert's Rebellion. He was self-serving, greedy, and ambitious beyond his level. He asked for things no lord would accept if they weren't anxious for the meager support his house could provide.

Shaking my head to get rid of these thoughts, I focused on the present.

"Any news of Robb?" I asked.

"Nay," Catelyn replied, "The last time we heard of him, he was traveling to Riverrun to support my father."

I felt a pit in my stomach at that. Robb was blessed by the gods, and while that was enough for most of the northern population to follow him to the south, as his father, it preoccupied me. I knew he was capable—hells, he was way more capable than I was at leading people—but he was going to fight against the Lannisters. The Lannisters, while I despised them for what they had done in the past and would probably do in the future until Robb stopped them, was a house filled with genius in warfare, and they had the gold to splurge on supplies and bribery.

"I will pray to the Old Gods for his victory," I said firmly. "But enough about that, please fill me in with the happenings in the North while I was away."

With everything going on, I didn't have the time to learn about what had changed. I was in meetings with the rest of the lords every day to find out what was the best course of action to take to fulfill Robb's orders. We had been debating all these weeks who should focus on which parts of the North, planning supply lines from the Neck to the Wall. I had been so busy, I wasn't able to even check on my children personally.

Hopefully, all that would end today, since last night we finished planning with Lord Umber, Lady Mormont, and Lord Karstark. Today we would talk with the rest of the lords so that everyone knew what to do for the prosperity of our kingdom.

"As you told me that Robb explained, the military force of the North is a third of what we had. Besides the esteemed lords of the North, every young able-bodied person has gone to the south with Robb, including some of the heirs of different houses. But thankfully, Robb was able to predict this and didn't leave us defenseless. With the recruits every house was ordered to teach, according to Maester Luwin, we have over ten thousand apprentices. Ser Rodrik says that most of them are still green, but they will help if push comes to shove."

"And with half of the army, we will be able to secure our borders just as Robb decreed," I nodded. "Is there any news of the Wall and the Ironborn?"

"Yes, dear," Catelyn replied, taking a seat next to me. "Maester Aemon sent a raven thanking us for the support we provided. They have started manning the Wall and using the supplies we sent to fix some of the castles. But even with all our help, they still need people for that."

"Aye," I nodded. "Robb told us in his last message that more than four hundred Frey soldiers decided to join the defense of the Wall. They will arrive in the next couple of weeks by Maester Luwin's estimate."

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Yes, Lord Flint of Flint's Finger sent a raven. According to him, there have been multiple sightings of pirates on his shores. I'm afraid that means the Ironborn will start moving soon," Catelyn continued, pressing her body against mine.

Leaning into her warmth, I felt myself relaxing, and I couldn't help thanking Robb for this idea. I truly needed the support of my wife and children if I ever wanted to escape this slump I found myself in, and I was sure that participating in another war would only make it worse.

"Good. Today at the meeting we will start sending parts of the army to each keep," I said firmly. "No invader will shed northern blood without paying the consequences. I will not fail again."

Catelyn, instead of replying, kissed me, and I felt myself leaning into her.

At night

Winterfell Great Hall.

Being back in the Great Hall of Winterfell felt more peaceful than I had imagined. The last weeks I had been here, I was swamped with work and meetings in my solar, incapable of sharing my time with my children or wife while they feasted. Thanks to Robb's power and ideas, the North no longer felt the fear of going a long time without food, not that Winterfell ever felt that besides the truly dangerous winters in the past. But since I was alive, there was never a shortage of food in the castle, and thanks to my son, there would never be one again if the gods willed it.

The northern lords had gathered for this feast, the ones that had come with me from Moat Cailin, along with the ones who had their territories closer to Winterfell. But despite the warmth the castle provided, there was a palpable tension in the air as they awaited my orders. While I was no longer the Warden of the North, I was named by our king to be in charge of the protection of our lands, and I would not fail anymore.

I stood at the head of the hall, and I could feel the weight of this responsibility in my bones. Robb was far in the south, fighting for our lands, to see them prosper and bring justice to the realm. And now, the North itself faced threats from within and beyond, and it fell on me to protect it.

As soon as I stood up, the room fell silent.

"The Ironborn stir on their isles," I said with a grave voice. "Reports came from Flint's Finger that some raiders are testing our shores, scouting them. We cannot wait for them to strike while our strength is already spread thin."

Lord Manderly, the only lord who had come from afar, was seated nearest to the fire. "White Harbor stands ready, Lord Stark. Since there are no movements from the Three Sisters, we will send what ships I can spare to patrol the coast. The ships of the mermen that had been in King's Landing and Essos started to move to Flint's Finger and Sea Dragon Point when the war started. Some of them will probably arrive in the next couple of days, but the ones that were far away will take longer."

Lady Mormont interjected at that point, "The Ironborn are despicable, but they know how to raid. They will seek the weakest spot."

"Then we must not give them one," I replied. "We will send men to the shores, reinforce our coastal keeps—Flint's Finger, Bear Island, Deepwood Motte. Since Lord Glover is taking care of Moat Cailin, is there someone who volunteers to protect his lands while he is not there?"

Lord Harclay, one of the northern mountain clans, stood up. "This is an important moment for the North. If you would like, Lord Stark, I will take care of Deepwood Motte in Lord Glover's stead."

I nodded at him in thanks. Lord Glover had left his keep to fulfill Robb's request, and if something were to happen to his lands while he was away, I would not be able to forgive myself. "I appreciate the help, Lord Harclay. You will ride at dawn and take six thousand men with you. There, you will work with Lord Flint and Lady Mormont and spread the forces across the coastal keeps."

"With our coast taken care of, there is one topic we need to talk about," I said firmly, my eyes scanning the room. "The Wall needs men as well. I've had ravens from Castle Black. According to Robb's dreams, winter is closer than any of us expected, and with the threat of the White Walkers, the Wall needs every sword they can get. The Ironborn may be a present threat, but what lies beyond the Wall will be far worse."

Lord Jon Umber stood up with a scowl on his face. "Aye, and the Umbers will have to guard the south and the north both? My men are strong, but we can't fight shadows and raiders all at once."

"I know that what I ask is hard, Lord Umber," I said with a soft tone, "But the Wall is our first line of defense against the darkness that approaches. If we do not send men to support them, the dead will be our enemy soon enough."

"What about the prisoners His Grace is sending to the Wall?" asked Lady Mormont.

"The last we heard, four hundred men of the Frey will willingly help the Wall," I replied, "But as you know, that won't be enough."

"I will send five hundred of my boys in the meantime," Lord Umber grunted, "I'll mix them if the Ironborn manage to reach Last Hearth, but it must be done."

I nodded with gratitude towards him. Besides his gruff demeanor and toxic tongue, he was the lord I could trust with my life. The Umbers had never rebelled and supported the Starks in every venture possible.

"We will make sure they don't manage to reach your keep, Jon. We will hold the south. The Wall is our duty, but there is one more matter, a grim one," I said with a frown on my face.

The lords exchanged glances as I continued, "Skagos has not answered our summons. They hold the dragonglass we need—dragonglass that may be our only defense against the White Walkers, should they manage to reach the Wall. But the island remains silent. We must deal with them, one way or another."

Lord Karstark, who had been silent until now, spoke, "The Skagosi are wild and proud. Perhaps they see no reason to heed our call. The North does not have the ships for an invasion when we are using them to take care of our shores, but perhaps a delegation can be sent. One that shows our strength, maybe that will convince them."

"We need the dragonglass," Lord Manderly agreed with a firm tone, "Perhaps a hundred men could accompany whoever leads this delegation. I can spare a galleon for this venture."

"You have my thanks, my lord," I nodded, "If they continue to refuse, we will deal with the Ironborn first and then invade the island. It is not something I want, but I will do so if needed. We need the dragonglass, and their pride is not worth the lives of the rest of the North."

"Well said, my lord," nodded Rickard Karstark, "If you want, my master-at-arms can lead the delegation. My family has experience dealing with the Skagosi."

The lords murmured in agreement, but I could see the weariness on their faces. The North was vast, but we were surrounded by enemies.

"The rest of the army will remain here at Winterfell, ready to be sent wherever they are needed. My son is fighting in the south, and we will make sure he returns to a North that he can be proud of," I banged the table.

"For the Starks!" shouted Lord Umber, raising his cup.

Before the rest could continue, Maester Luwin, who was so busy he needed to eat in his office, entered the great hall with great haste.

"My lords," he panted, "I bring great news."

Motioning for him to join me at the main table, I could not help but wonder what this was about. In all his years under my employ, I hadn't seen Luwin with this much emotion; he was almost trembling in agitation.

"What news do you bring, Maester Luwin?" I asked, feeling anxious at seeing him like that.

"My lords," the maester continued, "His Grace Robb Stark has just finished his first battle."

A silence fell over the hall when the maester finished those words, and I felt my anxiousness spark. This would have been Robb's first battle, at least at that level and in the open. He always preferred to do so while his enemies least expected it, so the nervousness came back with a vengeance.

"How did he do, Maester?" Cat asked with a tremor in her voice, and inwardly I thanked her for asking, since I was sure my voice would come out the same, and I couldn't show weakness to my vassals.

"He did spectacularly, my lady," the maester replied, "In fact, I'm sure he will be the talk of Westeros in the near future."

Roars and cheers could be heard in the hall, and I allowed a small smile to appear on my face, feeling the anxiousness disappear. "Details, Maester. We want to hear about Robb's victory."

"Of course, my lord," the maester nodded and took a piece of cloth to clean the perspiration on his brow. "His Grace gave half of his army to Lord Edmure Tully, which he took to Mummer's Ford to battle against Jaime Lannister's host. According to the news, Tywin Lannister was laying siege to Riverrun with twenty-five thousand soldiers, and Jaime's host has a little under fifteen thousand men."

Cat's hand went to her mouth with concern hearing that her brother would be leading that host, and I put my arm around her to calm her down. I was sure that everything would be good. Robb had good commanders with him who could help him plan, and they would not leave something like this to chance.

"So His Grace fought with seventeen thousand men against Tywin's twenty-five?" asked Lord Karstark with a frown.

The maester shook his head, but I could see he was excited to continue, and everyone was listening with their utmost attention, including Sansa, who was praying in her seat, and Arya, who was jumping with emotion. Of the boys, only Bran was listening with attention, since Rickon had left with a servant to sleep as it was late. At his side, Jojen and Meera Reed had smirks on their faces, which made me wonder if they somehow knew what had happened.

According to Cat, they had arrived some weeks after Robb left to save me, and they had been spending time with Bran, helping him with something all three were tight-lipped about.

The maester continued, "His Grace gave ten thousand men to Ser Brynden Tully, and then helped them to hide in the mountains near Tumblestone. Then he met Tywin Lannister's forces with only seven thousand men."

Before anyone could interrupt him, the maester continued, and I was glad that he did so, since it seemed like a stupid decision by Robb. But since Luwin said he brought good news, I just waited to hear about them.

"Robb and the Northern heirs met Tywin's vanguard. Lord Tywin sent five thousand men against the two thousand that His Grace sent at the beginning, and then they started the battle. The letter was written by the maester at Riverrun, and according to him, the northern army showed their strength, cutting down the Lannister men without problems."

"After that, it appears that Lord Tywin sent his cavalry against King Robb, but he had opened some burrows in the ground where they fell and started killing them. According to the maester, His Grace killed Ser Mambrand and continued to hack through the men of the Westerlands." After finishing that part, the maester drank some wine, and I could see that his excitement hadn't lessened.

"What else?" asked Lord Karstark, sitting at the edge of his seat, the same as most lords present. Luwin had told the tale like it was something from the age of heroes, and everyone wanted to hear more. Arya wasn't sitting anymore, running all over the place saying that she had the best brother ever, something that made me hide a snort. People of Robb's caliber weren't easy to find.

Sansa had her eyes opened wide, and Lady Elise was next to her showing the same excitement.

"It ended up being a trap set by His Grace," the maester smiled wildly, his composure forgotten. "When Lord Tywin attacked with all his forces to try and save his cavalry, Ser Brynden attacked from behind and King Robb separated the Lannister men with wildfire based on the maester's studies. He writes that it was different from the one the Mad King used since it didn't spread and it died by itself when the battle was over. Not a single Riverlander or Northerner died thanks to the fire."

Cheers erupted all around, and the maester cleared his throat.

"But that's not all..." he said but trailed off to create suspense. "King Robb has captured Lord Tywin, his brother Kevan Lannister, and the Mountain that Rides."

If I thought the screams of joy I heard before were loud, they could not compare to the ones I was hearing right now. Everyone was out of their seats chanting for the Starks and banging their mugs on the table. People were hugging each other and some even teared up with emotion.

"What of our children?" asked Lady Mormont, with a happy smile that dimmed a little when she thought something had happened to them.

"All are good; no one suffered any injuries among the heirs that followed King Robb," the maester assured the lords, and I felt the weight of my responsibilities disappear altogether.

Robb had done wonderfully, and as his father, I would do the same. There was no time to feel depressed about my past actions. Now, I would work with everything I had to do as he asked. I would enjoy life with my family, and when we reunited in the future, I would make sure to correct all the wrongs I had committed.

"What about his losses?" I asked, and the maester frowned for a moment.

"The maester says that Lord Torrhen counted five hundred dead and over a thousand injured. I have no more information about that," he shook his head. In truth, it was a resounding victory. Losing so few people against an army almost twice its size was commendable. I would not have been able to do the same in his place, and that showed that he truly was the right option to lead the North.

I am pretty sure that a lot of lords would have felt angry if their son surpassed them, but I was not one of them. I was proud of him, and I would follow him until my death.

"Any more news, Maester?" asked Lord Umber.

"Aye," he nodded. "It appears young Torrhen is traveling back to the North."

Lord Karstark frowned deeply upon hearing that. "Did you not say that none of our children suffered injuries? Why would His Grace send my son back?"

I was afraid of this; if Lord Karstark was offended, it could complicate things.

"He is fine, my lord," the maester shook his head. "According to the letter, young Torrhen was chosen by His Grace to lead over five thousand loyal men in a caravan toward the Wall. He is bringing five thousand Lannister soldiers, picked by His Grace himself to help at the Wall."

Lord Karstark's frown lessened and he nodded, taking his seat back. "What of the rest of the Lannisters?" he asked.

"Lord Jon said that it wasn't a good idea to have so many enemies in one place. That's the reason only five thousand men are coming here right now. It appears that they decided to send them in groups so that they can acclimate to the Wall and not try to escape, knowing the threat of the White Walkers," the maester replied, walking around to gather his thoughts. "He is right; if they had sent more men at once, there is the risk that the Lannisters could take over the Wall and cause danger to the rest of us. The best approach would be to follow their lead."

"Aye," I nodded resolutely. "Is there anything else?"

"Only a message to Sansa and Lady Elise. It appears that His Grace wants to bring Dorne to the fold. He is asking for you both to send a message to Prince Oberyn Martell, that he has the Mountain sedated and wrapped for him as a gift."

Sansa nodded, and I felt proud to see her act so mature. She and Lady Elise stood up from their seats and started bouncing ideas of what way would be best to approach the notorious Prince of Dorne.

"If everything is done, we can rest," I said with a firm voice. "Everyone knows their duty, and I trust we will be victorious."

Everyone started to leave, but I raised my voice one last time.

"Lord Manderly, I hoped that you could accompany me to my solar."

The fat lord nodded seriously and stayed back. When everyone was gone, we started walking to my solar, accompanied by Cat and the maester.

"To what do I owe this honor?" joked the lord.

"There is one topic Robb asked me to talk to you about, my lord," I replied with a sigh, wondering if having Cat with me was the best idea.

"Oh?" he asked. "Do tell, my lord."

"What of the secret cargo you were in charge of? Do you have any news about that?" I asked, wondering what this was about. Robb only told me to ask, but he didn't explain anything to me.

Lord Manderly went silent for a second before he sighed. "Lord Tyrion has arrived safely in Astapor. It was a trying journey, but my men took him safe and sound."

"Lord Tyrion?" asked Cat, and I wondered what Robb had planned. Since his stay here, I knew Tyrion wasn't like the rest of his family, but I asked myself what Robb hoped to accomplish with this.

"I don't know much, my lady. I'm afraid I just did as His Grace asked me to," Lord Manderly replied softly. "But if I've learned something about His Grace, it is not to doubt him. He, at fourteen, has managed to do things no one else has, and while I follow the Faith of the Seven, it is easy to see he has truly been touched by the Old Gods. King Robb will lead us to greatness. I'm sure he knows what he is doing."

"Aye, he will," I nodded. "I suppose he asked me to talk with you about this so that I could inform him about this... Astapor, you say?" I hummed and my eyes widened.

"Surely not," I murmured, and the rest looked at me in alarm.

"What are you thinking about, dear?" asked Catelyn, anxious.

"The last location known of Daenerys Targaryen while I was in King's Landing was Vaes Dothrak... and she was traveling to Qarth according to the Spider," I replied, deep in thought.

"What does Robb want with the exiled princess, I wonder?"

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Five days later.

Robb Stark.

As the saying goes, man makes plans, and the Gods laugh. I was required to stay in Riverrun instead of supporting Uncle Edmure against Jaime. The main reason for that was something my grandfather told me.

If my aim was to be a king, I needed to delegate even these kinds of actions, since there would be a moment when I would not be able to be present in all conflicts. My generals or trusted people needed to learn how to act without my presence. It was true that my power gave me an edge no one else in Westeros had, but that meant if my generals got complacent with my presence, they would be defeated without me.

For that reason, I had to work on something in the castle—the bane of all rulers: paperwork.

Looking at the stacks of parchments my grandfather had in his possession, I shuddered at the thought of the future. If this amount of paper was for a single kingdom, I could not even imagine what it would be like when all of them were under my rule.

For now, I needed to focus. War was something that took time, and for that reason, I needed to learn about the lands that were under me, even if the Riverlands had not bent the knee yet. I was not worried about it, since when Edmure defeated Jaime's host, my grandfather assured me they would do so.

It was the best course of action for them since if I left the Riverlands untouched if they didn't bend the knee, they would be open to different reprisals. That alone made it worth it for the Riverlords. The extra security I would need to implement when they made me their king would be enough for them.

The lands of the Riverlands were fertile and vast, making them one of the most agriculturally productive regions in Westeros. Due to their network of rivers, such as the Trident and its tributaries, the land had the opportunity to be well irrigated, allowing for a wider range of crops and food production compared to the North. If my special fertilizer made the North flourish, I was giddy to find out what it would do to the Riverlands.

With my powers and the help of the lords, I was sure we could make the Riverlands a better place to farm than the Reach. And when I was in control of the Tyrells, I was sure I would be able to stop famine in Westeros.

I knew that an abundance of food could be problematic, even if it sounded perfect. First of all, the price would drop, and while that would be advantageous to customers, it would be bad for the farmers and producers by reducing their income, making it difficult for them to recover their costs. This, at least, could be worked on in the future. If I managed to make it almost trivial to plant food with the help of learned men, we could solve this.

But that was not the only problem that an overabundance of food brought—storing food would be almost impossible in these lands. However, since I was already controlling the North, I was sure we could do something.

Shaking my head, I tried to focus on the map. All these problems were for the future me. The Riverlands needed to be secured first, and for that reason, I needed to close the borders, just as I did in the North.



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

The Vale was not a problem, at least for now, but the Reach, Crownlands, and Westerlands could be. For that reason, we needed to move fast.

While King's Landing was weak, they could make some trouble on the King's Road. The Reach would take at least a month to mobilize if they even managed that. I knew from experience that Renly had a hate boner for his brother Stannis, so I was sure he would try to attack him now that he was weak. I didn't know how that would end, probably with Renly's death, but what would happen next was the problem.

If the Reach lost Renly, the Queen of Thorns would move to the next claimant for the throne who could help her. And while I was an option, I doubted I would be lucky enough to gain their allegiance. No, I was sure they would ally with Aegon. Even if they doubted his legitimacy, I was certain Olenna would try her best to get him married to Margaery.

That did not worry me much, though. No, the thing that scared me the most was Melisandre. She was a hard counter to me. Her shadow creatures were dangerous, but her fire scared me. If she had a buffed-up version of what she showed in the series, she could make my insects trivial.

While I could order my insects to attack, they would be burned to cinders, and I would lose them instantly. I didn't know if the insects I created to snuff out the wildfire would work on her flames since she was connected to her Lord of Light.

The Old Gods called him a monstrosity, and that scared me. Since the Old Gods were almost eldritch beings to me, I did not want to imagine what something had to be for them to call it that.

"Why are you so preoccupied, Robb?" asked my grandfather, who had just entered my solar.

Giving him a tight smile, I replied, "So many things, grandfather."

"Do tell," he smiled, and I huffed.

"Everything. The war, the lands, my people," I continued. Hoster Tully had been helping me a lot these past few days, and while he was still sick, some of the Green Men had been able to alleviate his sickness a little bit. He was still ill, and I doubted he had much longer to live, mostly because of his age, but he was better—at least enough to move around the castle.

"I know what you feel, grandson," he replied, putting his hand on my back as he sat next to me.

"The weight of responsibility," he continued. "Let's go one by one. Tell me, what is the most pressing problem?"

"I want to close the borders. We are way too vulnerable in the middle of Westeros," I replied, wondering how many men I would lose to do so. While my army sounded big, I didn't have enough men available to guard all the keeps on the borders, and I also needed to continue my campaign.



"Aye, it is needed," he nodded. "First of all, we need to man Wayfarer's Rest. I'm sure Lord Vance will be capable of that with little support, but even so, there is more to do. House Vypren will have to guard that side of the Westerlands."

"Aye, I was thinking of sending Lord Vypren back home with a thousand men to take care of that."

"I'm afraid that is no longer an option, grandson," he shook his head. "The last Vypren died during the battle, and his wife fell ill during captivity by the Lannister men."

"Fuck," I grunted, banging the table. "If it's not one thing, it's another."



"What do you propose?" I asked.

"We can send some of the lords of the northern part of the Riverlands for that," he waved his hand. "I'm sure Lord Darry would be up to it. He was really sad that he could not reach you before you marched here."

"If he manages to survive the battle against Jaime," I replied. "I should be there, helping."

"You need to trust Edmure, Robb," he laughed, and I knew it was true, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

"I trust him," I snapped. "I trust my people, but my presence would make everything go more smoothly."

Before he could continue, our conversation was brought to a halt by the entrance of Jon. My cousin had been busy these past few days visiting the Mountain, who was paralyzed thanks to my venoms. He had been in his cell doing all kinds of things to him. While he hasn't harmed him much besides a punch to the head, he has been depriving him of sleep, visiting him with Ghost.

Jon was pissed, but Father had taught him well. He would not succumb to vengeance.

"Robb," he started, "a raven arrived from Seagard."

I noticed that my grandfather's eyes tightened at Jon's presence, but that was not important for now, even if I made a mental note to fix this before it became a problem. I was sure he saw Jon as a threat, or maybe just an annoyance as my father's proof of "infidelity." And while I would not disclose Jon's true parentage, I thought it would be good to tell him that he was not my father's bastard.

I could not have problems within our ranks, even less so from people who were "high-ranking" in my command. Petty squabbles would have to wait until the war for the throne was over.

Focusing on Jon, I replied, "What happened, Jon? What does Patrek say?"



"The Ironborn made their first move," he replied with a sigh, and my head hit the wall with a bang.

Wonderful, just what I needed. Another variable joining the scuffle. I knew that they did not aim for the Iron Throne, at least, Theon's father did not. But how long would that last? How long until Euron Greyjoy took control of the Iron Islands? I still did not know anything about him apart from his apparent madness. I was hoping for the best, ignoring the teleportation show in the series (A/N: lol). He was dangerous but beatable, but I prepared for the worst. If he was like the books, my conquest would meet the first hurdle in him, probably.

In both characterizations, he was a sadist and cruel, being famous for that, either physically or psychologically. His own crew aboard his ship Silence had their tongues cut out, and he was known for his horrific acts. I did not remember well if this happened in the shows, but I knew he had molested his brothers since they were young, one of the reasons they all were afraid of him.

But his brutality was the least of my problems; it was the mysticism and dark knowledge. Euron in the books had experimented with dark magic, along with traveling to a LOT of dangerous places, like Valyria and Asshai, gathering arcane knowledge. He possessed a Valyrian steel suit of armor, making him almost impenetrable, and was said to be interested in becoming a god through magical means.

Having spent almost five years in Westeros, a lot of my memories were blurred, but I remembered this well. If he was like that, I hoped I would be capable of defeating him. And if I did? I knew the loot would be glorious.

Hiding my inner gamer self, I thought about what Jon had said. Since he came at a sedate pace, I knew there was not much to worry about since Seagard was manned to the brim and had the support of Robin.

"What happened, Jon?" I tried to ask calmly, still dreading the implications that Euron would come soon.

"They were repelled," he replied simply, and I heard grandfather letting a breath out at hearing that.

"But not without losses. None of those were of note, but Patrek lost five hundred men defending his lands," Jon continued. "The Ironborn assault was led by Victarion Greyjoy and his niece, Asha Greyjoy, Theon's sister apparently."

"Tell me the contents of the raven," I ordered.

Seagard

Asha Greyjoy.

The air was thick with the smell of salt water, and I felt at peace. Here, in the ocean, with my crew members preparing to attack the Greenlanders in Westeros, this was what life was meant to be—paying the iron price.

For now, our ships were directed to Seagard, House Mallister's home, and a blight for the Ironborn. Seagard was created with the sole purpose of defending the Riverlands from an Ironborn invasion, and it deserved to burn under our might. Uncle Victarion was in the lead, but ten more ships were behind us. Everyone was filled with excitement to reave through the keep, hoping to find salt wives or thralls to work in the salt mines.

Everything was going well for us. Lord Mallister had left Seagard to support his liege lords, leaving his green son in charge of the defenses of his ancestral home.

But I had a nagging feeling at the back of my head. We had stopped receiving news from Seagard a while back, and we didn't know why or how. Did they find our spies? If they did, would they be prepared for us? I did not think so, but it was a possibility.

I tried to talk to Uncle Victarion about this, but he did not want to hear me talk. Once again, my opinion was being ignored just because of what I had between my legs. For everything I did, my crewmates got the praise and were often mocked for following a woman.

I snorted, attracting the attention of my second-in-command. Edd was a young Ironborn from Pyke, whom I had known since childhood. Losing Theon when we were younger, thanks to the foolishness of my father, made it hard for me to enjoy my childhood in the castle. And here we were again, going against the rest of the kingdoms for my father when we had no hope of winning. At least now the rest of the mainlanders were occupied with their petty squabbles for the Iron Throne, so they would not be able to mount a significant defense.

Our main objective for this attack was to burn Seagard to the ground, or at least debilitate it enough so that a future incursion would be easier. The Riverlands were occupied by the Lannister forces as of the last report, with Riverrun being sieged by Tywin Lannister himself.

Thinking of Theon brought a weird feeling to my chest. I did not know how our reunion would be. Would he be infected with the North's cultural differences? Or would he still act as an Ironborn? I didn't know the answer to this, but if he was weak, I would not hesitate to take the Seastone Chair for myself. I had paid the price; I was the best option for now, discounting my uncles, of course.

But Victarion was not meant to lead. He was way too headstrong for that and would seek more trouble than it was worth. Theon, I did not know, but he wouldn't receive the support of the Ironborn for being a ward of the Starks. The less said about Euron, the better. He was scary from what I remembered, and he was still exiled, doing whatever, and Aeron was a priest of the Drowned God.

No, I was the better option for ruling. I understood enough to know that we could not oppose all the kingdoms at the same time, unlike Father. Our best bet would be to reave through the North and take enough timber from their forests to increase our naval power, making it strong enough so that the rest of the kingdoms think twice before attacking us.

But for now, here I was, leading my crew against Patrek Mallister.

"How long until we land?" I asked Edd.

"We can already see the harbor, Asha," he replied. "Some minutes until arrival."

"What about their defenses?" I asked, wondering how manned the keep was.

Usually, Seagard had three to four thousand soldiers, but that was calling the sword houses and knights that lived in their territory. Whenever the Ironborn attacked in the past, if they managed to reach it secretly, they would fight less than two thousand soldiers. But now that Jason Mallister had left for Riverrun, following the Young Wolf to help his family, it was possible that there would be fewer.

"They've already spotted us, Asha," Edd said, shaking his head. "With all these longships under your Uncle Victarion, it would be impossible to go incognito. I can see the soldiers helping the merchants out of the harbor."

"How many men, Edd?" I asked urgently. If they knew we were coming, we would fight as soon as we docked, and they could mount defenses before that.

"Around a thousand," he said uncertainly before nodding seriously, "I think a thousand men."

That was good. We had twelve ships with us, each carrying around a hundred soldiers. If the thousand men Edd said were correct, we had the upper hand in numbers alone.

"It is a shame they are waiting for us," I murmured. "We would have an advantage at sea."

"Aye," Edd smirked. "There is no one as good as an Ironborn at sailing."

I smirked back at him. "I will go and talk with my uncle before we disembark. Make sure every axe is sharpened; we have Mallisters to kill."

"Aye aye, Cap," he saluted mockingly.

Walking around the deck, I observed the soldiers preparing for battle. The Ironborn always wore their armor even at sea since the best way to die was to drown, according to our religion. But they were checking their equipment one last time before the battle.

We, the Ironborn, fight with a fierce and ruthless style, and it was true, that we favored surprise raids and ambushes to catch our enemies off guard. But that didn't mean we were weak on the mainland. Our fierce style made our attack chaotic enough so that no one knew what to expect. Since most Ironborns didn't follow orders, and the commanders did not usually give them, we all attacked differently. Some may prefer to charge from the front, while others try to sneak around and jump when someone least expects it.

For now, I believe we have the advantage. If we were fighting in open quarters, I would be nervous, but the harbor of Seagard had a lot of buildings, forcing the Mallister men to fight close to us as we favored.

As soon as I got closer to my uncle, I could hear him scream.

"Ready the men!" Victarion barked, his voice carrying over the sound of a hundred men preparing for battle. "Tonight, we burn Seagard to the ground!"

The crew surged with fervor, and I was sure their shouts could be heard from the other longships. I watched as my uncle's presence ignited a primal urge for bloodshed in our men. I felt the same fire in my belly, but I was intelligent enough to have a tinge of caution. Seagard was not an easy target, even when the men and lord weren't present. The Mallisters were seasoned warriors, and I was sure Jason had left someone with experience just in case something like this happened.

As we approached the harbor, the silhouettes of Seagard's tall towers loomed ahead. The first line of defense was already in place, something I hadn't seen in all my life.

The soldiers were grouped up, which would be good for us since many of them would die from the first volley of arrows. However, they had some strange shields made of something not metal, gray-colored, and larger than normal. The bad feeling intensified, but we were so close that retreating would only hurt our reputation.

I raised my hand, signaling the archers to prepare.

"Once we land, we hit hard and fast," I instructed, trying to keep my voice steady. "We split their forces to the buildings and seize the gates before they can react."

Uncle Victarion nodded, his eyes narrowed in anticipation. "Remember to grab their women! I will only take a small sum of what you find."

This was something some of the captains did: while the crew plundered, the captain directed, and at the end, a percentage of the loot would be his. I didn't do this, as I liked to fight on the frontlines, so my crew got to keep what they found. One of the reasons they followed me, I guess.

With a roar, we beached the ships, and our men poured onto the sand, axes raised and swords drawn.

Looking in awe, I saw the strange shields protect every single one of the soldiers huddled together, and I clicked my tongue. "This started bad," I murmured.

The Mallister men ran toward us, and the clash of steel rang as we met their first line of defenders. I fought at my uncle's side, my dagger flashing in the moonlight before it was painted crimson with the blood of my first victim.

They were better prepared than I expected, but nothing insurmountable.

The battlefield quickly devolved into chaos, and our men were happy to reciprocate with violence inside the buildings. We had the advantage here, as our axes were small enough to fight in cramped spaces, while their spears and swords were too large to swing without risking injuring their own.

I could feel my excitement soar through the roof—this was the life. Slashing the neck of another Greenlander, I roared before attacking the next. Men always doubted my prowess in battle, but while my strength was not comparable to theirs, my agility surpassed them easily.

Uncle Victarion was also cutting through the defenders like a hot knife through butter. "Push forward!" he roared, cleaving through their ranks with brutal efficiency. Blood sprayed from our enemies, soaking the floor with its crimson color.

Yet the defenders were prepared. They fought with desperation only those defending their home could muster, and I was confused as to why there were some Northerners here. Their physical characteristics were easy to spot after attacking their shores for so long.

They fought with more brutality than I expected, and the biggest surprise was how they fought. I had always heard about the cohesion the Unsullied troops had, and I imagined it was something like this. They fought together as a unit—whenever someone was overpowered, another took his place in the battle, saving their lives while the defeated one caught his breath. While not all of them survived, the death of their companions only burned their spirits stronger than ever.

Before long, I could hear the sound of horses approaching, and I knew this was going to turn into the worst possible outcome. The number of hooves I could hear was alarming, and it didn't make any sense. If Jason Mallister had taken a large part of his bannermen to support the Tullys, why were there so many defenders in place?

"Regroup!" I shouted, but it was too late. Uncle Victarion, driven by rage, pressed forward, leaving our flanks exposed. I, on the other hand, tried to regroup with my crew, taking any Ironborn we could find while dodging a swing by a hair that nearly took my head.

The bastard who dared to do that was dead, of course, but that didn't mean we were safe yet. Our men were being flanked from all sides except our rear, giving us the option to retreat back to our ships, something I hoped we were capable of doing even with the heavy losses we would suffer.

"Uncle, we need to fall back!" I shouted, but it was for naught. Victarion, so lost in his element, either didn't hear me or chose to ignore me. We were running out of time. Desperately, I ran toward him, helping him against a particularly tough opponent before pushing him to the ground as my uncle cut his head off.

"Uncle, we are surrounded. We need to retreat. NOW!" I repeated myself, smacking him on the head to clear his thoughts of the bloodshed.

He still had the gall to hesitate, so caught up in the thrill of battle, but at least my slap did its work clearing the fog in his head. With a fierce growl, he turned, rallying the rest of the Ironborn. "We're not done yet; we will take this hold!"

I was so stressed I wanted to scream. Once more, this situation made me realize the problem of my sex. When I shouted, trying to rally our men for retreat, only some of the remaining Ironborn followed my lead, besides my crewmates who were still alive. None of the others even tried to follow me, even if I was saving their lives. But when Uncle Victarion shouted? Everyone heard him and followed his orders, even if it meant their deaths.



I wasn't even capable of counting the number of defenders that came from our flanks in such a short time, but they were turning the tide of the battle, and I could do nothing but huff in frustration at the situation we found ourselves in.

Slashing my daggers through the air, I killed some of the soldiers attacking us, but it was for naught. We killed one, and three more took his place, fighting with renewed vigor after seeing their brothers die.

I watched in abject horror as our ranks began to dwindle, their bodies making it difficult to move without tripping. The smell of shit and blood was all-encompassing, and I swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in my throat. The tide had turned completely, and we were being decimated. We had killed so many men, but it was for nothing.

When an arrow flew past me and I heard Uncle Victarion scream in pain, I knew it was my time to act. "Retreat!" I shouted with all my might, grabbing Victarion's injured arm, an arrow sticking out from his shoulder. Since we did not use metal armor, preferring to have boiled leather as defense, arrows were particularly dangerous to us. "We lost too many men. We will regroup and return another day!"

Uncle Victarion scowled at the thought of running away, but even with his small brain, he could see that if we stayed, they would kill us all. The battle was lost. With a grimace, he nodded, leading the retreat as we fell back to our ships, and the cries of the wounded being helped would make my nightmares particularly fun in the future.

Not all of them could be saved, and I hoped they received a fast death. Some of our men were held hostage, while others lay on their backs or stomachs, bleeding out and hoping for death.

As we boarded the Iron Victory, I tried to take stock of our losses. Over six hundred men lay dead on the sands of the harbor, and many more did not make it to our ships. The thought of the Riverlanders and Northerners keeping them did not sit well with me, but there was nothing I could do about it. I didn't even have fire to light them up.

Victarion's eyes were dark as he surveyed the battlefield, a mix of anger and regret crossing his features. That did it for me. Marching up to his face, I shouted, "I told you we needed to retreat before we lost so many men! Now the Mallisters have access to our ships, and many Ironborn are held hostage!"

Victarion snarled and raised his uninjured hand to strike me. Thankfully, he was weakened by the arrow, and I was able to move out of the way. Getting closer to him once more, I punched him in the stomach, making him double over in pain. "This is your fault, Uncle. You let your anger get the better of you, and see where it got us? We lost so many men! Don't you see? We lost! And now they will be better prepared for future attacks."

Sighing, I helped him stand up. I was pissed at him, but I didn't want him dead.

He looked at me with murder in his eyes, but the regret came back in full force. "Aye, you are right, Asha," he admitted, lowering his head.

Before I could answer, his eyes locked onto mine. "It was my mistake, and I will make up for it. But remember niece, I am the Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet. I control the largest and most powerful fleet of the Iron Islands. I'm sure you know why it would be unwise to strike me again. I will let this one pass since tension and stress can do things to people, but if you do so once more, I'm sure I will make you regret it. Balon won't be able to stop it."

My tirade was cut short, and my body tensed before giving him a firm nod. "I apologize, Uncle," I admitted. "I lost many of my friends in this raid, and I cannot take it out on the Mallisters."

Victarion simply nodded before looking out to the shore, where the defenders were taking care of the wounded and the hostages, and taking control of the ships we were forced to leave behind.

"We will return," he vowed with a fierce voice, a scowl back on his face.

"Next time, we will attack with the full force of the Iron Fleet, and they won't be so fortunate."

"They won't know what to expect next. We will be victorious," I nodded resolutely. This insult won't stand; they will pay for the blood they shed, and we will defeat them—I was sure of that.

"But where did all those soldiers come from?" I asked the most important question. If Jason Mallister took a large part of his forces, it didn't make any sense what just happened.

Victarion shook his head. "Northerners," he scoffed. "I would know; they speak the same way the people of Bear Island do."

"We need to make sure they pay for this," I replied simply. "Maybe we should focus on them before coming back to the Riverlands. I'm sure all that timber would be enough to double the fleet."

"You know what?" he asked. "I think you're right, niece."

---

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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.

---

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

 

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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.

---

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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

 

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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.

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