Geek's Guide to Thriving in a Low End Fantasy World ( Robert Baratheon OC SI AU)

[Samael61]

Hello there,

If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.

Robert is a badass who treats killing gods and slaying demons like just another Thursday. Did you know it was inspired by Thairon, the protagonist of my original story, Arrival : Ruptures, long before I began to write it? Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.

—
​

King's Landing

The Red Keep

"Is it true?" Lyanna asked after barging into her husband's room.

"It is," Rhaegar said. He did not even bother to rise, gazing at the ceiling with blank eyes.

"Can't Varys be wrong?" She sat down on the bed, right next to her husband. "He has not been as reliable as before."

Rhaegar turned his head, glancing at her before continuing to look at the ceiling. "Volantis is gone. There is nothing but a gaping hole left there now."

Varys was not the sole source of word on Volantis. Every trader that had sailed through the waters of Volantis brought the same tidings.

"Oh."

"What now?" she asked. If Robert truly managed to kill a god, or whatever R'hllor was, then House Targaryen had truly lost. Who would heed their words when the Lord of Asgard could even bring the gods to their knees?

"I don't know," he muttered. What did it matter anyway?

Lyanna intertwined her fingers with her husband's. "Your son misses you, and so do I. How long are you going to be buried in your books of prophecy?"

Jaehaerys wanted his father, and she wanted her husband.

"It is not about the prophecy, Lyanna. I am seeking a way to stop Robert before it is too late." His search so far had not revealed anything beyond worthless legends.

"Have you found anything?" she asked. Rhaegar closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Then come have an outing with us." It would hopefully raise his spirits, as well as her son's.

"I cannot."

She pulled her hand away, storming off. "I was a fool to ever believe you. Once your prophecy was fulfilled, you had no need of me anymore."

"Lyanna, you are being childish. If I only wanted you for the prophecy, I would have taken a lover by now."

That was the wrong assurance to give.

"I am being childish?" she asked, her nostrils wide, lips trembling. "You are more obsessed over Robert than anyone else. If he wanted to destroy us, do you think he would need a reason? By the old gods, the man is straight out of the Age of Heroes. No one would dare cross him."

Tywin Lannister had given up on punishing his youngest son. Her father and Lord Hoster did not even dare seek revenge for all the insults Robert had laid on them.

"Perhaps you should have wed him then," he said in a moment of weakness. His eyes widened as he realized what he had just said.

"Perhaps I should have," she said, her voice even. The fury that should have accompanied such a statement was absent. "At least he wouldn't ignore me like this."

"Lyanna, Lyanna, wait," he shouted, running after his wife.

—
​

Eddard was enjoying the sunlight in the courtyard with his wife. The smell of flowery perfumes announced the arrival of a most unwelcome visitor before he graced Eddard with his presence.

"Lord Eddard, Lady Ashara." The eunuch of the court stood before them, smiling.

"Lord Varys," he greeted the Master of Whispers. His eyes had hardened like stone.

"Have you heard the latest word on Essos?" Varys asked.

Unlike his wife's, Ned's face twitched at the mention of his former friend. "We have."

"Is it true Robert was the one responsible?" Ashara asked. The implication that he had slain a god was too much to believe, even with all he had accomplished so far.

"Two dragons were seen flying away before Volantis was lost in an enormous pillar of fire," he responded. The sight of the dragons said enough about who could be responsible for the utter destruction of a city.

Varys tilted his head up, gazing at the sky. "It is such a pity we have no one to tie us to Robert. Should he rebel, I cannot imagine the harm he would cause."

He knew it was on purpose. The eunuch wasn't the only one to throw such jabs at him. It had become quite common for people to remind him of his friendship with Robert.

"Though, perhaps the gods will smile on us soon. My birds tell me he has been wounded grievously."

Ashara's purple eyes widened, as had the grey ones of her husband. "I wouldn't hold my breath, Lord Varys. The Stranger seems unwilling to take him yet," she said.

Robert had proven to be able to overcome everything thrown at him so far.

"Provided he does not kill the Stranger either," Varys said as he left the courtyard to find another target.

—
​

Lys

"How is he?"

"Not good. If it was anyone else, he'd be long dead by now."

"Fucking hell."

"We are doing our best, but the infirmary is only meant to treat small wounds. There isn't even a doctor here."

"Those operators, where are they?"

"This way."

"Reach out to Tyrion Lannister. I need to speak to him."

"You may speak now."

"Tyrion, can you hear me?"

"Sandor? Where is Lord Robert? What happened?"

"He is wounded. Tell the doctor to be ready; I'll try to convince the dragons to take me to Asgard. If not, send him to Lys by ship."

"Fine. Tell me one thing. Is it actually true?"

"It is."

—
​

"Hey," he shouted at Obelisk. It was a dangerous action to take. The dragons rarely treated anyone except their father gently.

The beast rose to all fours, peering down at Sandor. A huff of hot breath left its nostrils.

"We need to go to Asgard. Robert needs it," he explained. He didn't even know if the dragon would understand, much less listen to him.

Obelisk titled his blue head to the left. He knelt, extending his neck. Sandor held with all the strength he could muster. The dragon threw him at the saddle. He barely had time to grasp the handles before the beast took off.

He couldn't even raise his head, lying flat on the dragon's back. Even then, the winds were deafening.

Obelisk must have understood the urgency of the situation. He did not even take any breaks, flying all the way from Lys to Asgard before the sun reached the middle of the sky.

The dragon landed in the courtyard of Valhalla. He had barely slowed down, sending violent winds that shook the trees. Doctor Korryn was already waiting with his tools and medicine.

He nodded at the dwarf, and the dragon took off as soon as the saddlebags were secured.

The flight back to Lys was just as fast. He could feel the beast's low, dragging growls, but it did not stop. Once on solid land, the dragon collapsed, asleep.

"Get those bags now," Sandor screamed at the men. He helped the doctor get off, dragging him towards where Robert lay.

Korryn reached for Robert's neck, checking his pulse while appraising his state. Bruises in the chest, abdomen, neck, and most of the body. The leg was broken, most likely in multiple places, but the healers had set it straight.

As much as they could.

Possible fractures in the ribs. The breathing was labored, but there was no sign of a pneumothorax or fluid in the lungs. Skin around the neck had been charred up, exposing the flesh beneath, and the sterilized gauzes were covered in fresh blood.

His face was almost unrecognizable. Eyes and lips were swollen, and the skin was entirely purple.

Korryn brought forward all the knowledge he had learned under Elia Martell's tutelage, as well as the experience he had earned in Asgard. He worked until sundown. Stopping the bleeding was simple. Resetting the leg bone, which had been broken in three places, in addition to pulling the ribs into place with wires, was not.

Once Robert was stabilized, he took a break to eat.

"How is he?"

"I did everything I could. The rest is up to him. The leg, though…" Korryn shook his head. "Unless there is a miracle, he won't be able to walk without a cane."

"Shit."

"There will be a scar around the neck, or rather, the skin of his neck will be a giant scar."

"But he'll live?"

"As I said, it is up to him now."

"Good."

—
​

He felt weightless, as if he were floating in a sea. The currents swayed his mind to and fro. It would have been a pleasant experience if it weren't for the voices.

Or rather, screams.

It started small, a child of clear Valyrian descent appearing before him, screaming. Flames consumed the boy. From his ashes, more people were reborn, consumed by the flames, which led to more and more.

The screams had quickly become constant.

He tried to plug his ears, run away, and do anything to silence the gut-wrenching wails.

It had not worked.

He did not know how long it lasted. Eventually, he was left with blissful silence. Or so he thought. He fell, gravity taking hold of him once more. The light orange purgatory became darker and darker, turning to a crimson red.

He looked around, sucking in a breath.

People were arrayed around him, and he could not see the end of it. Children, adults, the elderly, and even babies.

"You who freed our souls, go forth and claim what is yours." A million voices spoke as one, and he lurched forward.

—
​

When he came to be, the first thing he felt was the pain.

Everything was hurting at once.

"My lord, my lord, lay down, please," a familiar voice pleaded. He was in no hurry to refuse and laid back on the bed.

He could not see shit.

"Water," he rasped, feeling his throat burn.

"Slowly," the voice said, guiding a cup to his lips. He drank, feeling the cold spread through his lips, tongue, and throat.

"What happened?" His mind felt like he was swimming through thick mud.

"What do you remember?" the voice asked. He thought, but the only thing in his mind was the screams.

"Screams, so many of them."

There was a beat before the voice spoke again. "You were in a fight, my lord; your wounds are severe, but you will heal. You must sleep now."

"Yes, sleep," he mumbled. His mind felt heavy, and his breathing evened in seconds.

—
​

Korryn opened the door for Sandor. "He woke up briefly but fell asleep again. As long as he rests, he will pull through."

"Did he say anything?" he asked, glancing inside.

"That he heard screams."

"Go and sleep, doctor; I'll keep watch."

"You must rest too. You are no good as a guard if you fall asleep on your feet."

—
​

When he came to awareness again, he could actually see, at least through one eye. The left side of his vision was blurry.

"My lord, how do you feel?" A voice—Korryn—asked him.

He took a deep breath. "Like a truck hit me."

"I don't know what a truck is, but you are healing well," he said, checking Robert's wounds.

The memories came rushing forward to his mind now. "Right, right, I was fighting R'hllor." He almost lurched forward, but the doctor pushed him back down.

"You killed him; at least we believe so," Korryn said, explaining what had happened after the battle.

"Volantis is gone?" he asked. There were more people in that city than in King's Landing, and most were slaves.

He did not know the exact numbers, but close to a million people must have died.

"Correct. There was a pillar of fire reaching the heavens. It left nothing but a gaping hole where the city used to be." Which was terrifying, even if he was on the side of the man who had killed a god.

A vision of a flash of heat followed by rising flames played in his mind. "I think I remember something about it."

"That is good. Your memory is intact." That part was trickier than everything else to restore.

"My vision is blurry on the left side."

"I believe a hit must have damaged the nerves. For now, please eat and rest."

He could taste meat in the soup. When he asked for solid food, the doctor said he was in no condition to chew anything.

The warmth of the soup and his sated hunger sent him to sleep once more.

—
​

Two continents waited with bated breaths. The man that had slain a god and destroyed Volantis was not seen for weeks. Rumors rose, propped up by the word of Robert Baratheon's wounded state.

He was dead, crippled, had fallen into an eternal sleep, and had lost his memory. None knew what the truth was, not even his family.

One certain word was that Robert had been in Lys for weeks, and his special healer had been brought there.

It was seen as an opportunity to kill him. Wounded, Robert was at his weakest. The threat of the dragons disabused them of that notion. The beasts acted like guard dogs, sniffing every single man who approached the trade post.

Should the beasts dislike someone, they either had to run or would be an appetizer.

Which left them to pray that he would die. Some, mostly traders in the slavery business or the ones suffering losses to Asgard Trading Company, had taken to the streets to celebrate.

Voices to ascertain what had truly transpired in Volantis had risen. No one was brave enough to visit the site of the greatest calamity ever since the Doom of Valyria.

The Doom was the result of a mad Valyrian summoning a demon. A demon that Robert Baratheon had slain. If word was that he had also slain R'hllor, they would not question it.

The Free Cities, as a whole, were terrified. Robert's distaste for slavery was well known. Now that he had destroyed Volantis, whether by accident or on purpose, how could they hope to stop him should he wish to do the same to Myr, Lys, and the others?

Animals, and in some cases slaves, were sacrificed to the gods, all for the same purpose. If Robert did not succumb to his wounds, the future that awaited the Free Cities—except Braavos—would be dire.

At Asgard, the citizens were lost. Had their gracious and generous lord done the impossible once more? If so, where was he? He had always returned without wounds, whether against the archdemon, the kraken, or the White Walkers. Why was he in Lys and not home?

Words of his demise were met with scorn. Robert was invincible in their eyes. None would sully his prowess in battle.

Though, the idea of him slaying a god wasn't simple to accept. Foreign or not, a god was a god. If killing one was so easy, it would have been done before.

As his ancestor, Durran Godsgrief, had done, he too could have easily defied R'hllor. But he had gone beyond that. Even the wildest tales from the Age of Heroes did not compare to his deeds.

There was no choice but to wait for his return to learn the truth.

—
​

In the next chapter:

"What the fuck is that?" he muttered to himself. Right at the center of the hole, he could see a crimson glow now that the sun was setting.

"Get up, we are here."

"Huh? Oh, right."

"There is something glowing down there."

Robert couldn't see it from his side. He nodded, opening the window on his side. "Boys, land near the glow down in the hole."

His dragons growled.



Curious about the next chapter? Please consider supporting me on Patreon.

 

[Samael61]

Hello there,

If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.

Robert is a badass who treats killing gods and slaying demons like just another Thursday. Did you know it was inspired by Thairon, the protagonist of my original story, Arrival : Ruptures, long before I began to write it? Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.

—
​

Lys

Robert groaned, a dry, drawn-out noise of suffering leaving his lips. The first thing he noticed was that he felt like a giant bruise.

A wooden cup was brought to his lips, and a hand lifted his head up slightly. "Drink, my lord, it will soothe your throat."

He took a sip, feeling the sour taste in his mouth wash away with each gulp of water. Once the cup was empty, he lay back down.

"How long?" he asked, wetting his dry lips. The water had brought clarity to his mind, and he started to get a sense of his bearings.

"Two weeks since you have been brought in."

"Fuck."

"We kept you fed with beef broth with shredded meat, but you need to start eating to regain your strength."

He grunted, rubbing his growling stomach.

The dishes brought before him were soft. Boiled meat, boiled vegetables, and porridge. Korryn was against him eating so much and upsetting his stomach. He was starving enough to ignore the good doctor's advice.

Once he stopped feeling like there was a hole in his stomach, he lay down, gazing at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes and slightly parted lips.

"Where is Sandor?"

"Hanging assassins, my lord."

Had it not caused him pain, he would have chuckled. "Good."

"How am I doing?" Korryn's mouth tightened at the question.

Robert took a deep breath, feeling his ribs strain. "You can tell the truth, not like any of it is your fault."

This was all his work.

"Your leg has been broken in three places. I set the bone straight as much as I could, but you will need a cane."

He fell silent at the answer. Even back in Volantis, his left leg has been in horrible shape. But to hear it... "What else?"

"Your left eye is damaged beyond my abilities to heal. You won't be totally blind, but the loss of vision is severe."

He squinted his left eye. "I got that much from the constant blur."

"Other than that, you are surprisingly healthy. If it were anyone else, we might have been holding a funeral now."

Robert chuckled. The victory this time had come at a cost. Not only were several hundred thousand enslaved people dead, he was crippled.

"How soon can I move?" he asked. There was much to do, and his state did not magically vanish it all.

"Your leg needs time for the bones to heal. Straining it will only make your limp worse in the long term. I advise bed rest for another month."

His lips thinned into a straight line. He needed to be at where Volantis used to be as soon as possible.

"I understand. Send Sandor when he returns."

"As you wish."

He closed his eyes, waiting for the doctor to leave. Once he heard the door close, he opened his eyes. He could not straighten himself much as the sharp pain in his abdomen made him grimace.

His leg was in a splint, wrapped in thick bandages.

Ugly, purple blotches that were healing at the edges covered his leg from ankle to knee. He didn't even attempt to move it, knowing better than to push his luck.

"Fucking finally."

"Sandor," he nodded at his guard. "I barely remember what happened after mounting the Obelisk. Remind me."

"Volantis is gone. A giant pillar of fire left a city-sized hole on the ground."

"Yes, Korryn did say something about that."

"Everyone is pissing themselves, and I've killed a dozen assassins."

"Any idea who sent them?" Because there were too many people for him to know for certain without torturing someone for answers.

"No."

"Doesn't matter; once I am up, they will back off." Otherwise, he would find out who they were.

"Fucking hell," Sandor swore for the umpteenth time, "you actually killed a god."

"Wasn't easy, but yes." He took a deep breath. "Speaking of killing a god, I need to return to Volantis."

"What for?" There was nothing left of the city, not even ruins.

He glanced at the man and turned to look at the ceiling again. "I kept seeing people, probably the ones that were sacrificed to R'hllor."

Sandor had followed him across the known world for two deadly tasks. He had earned the right to know this much.

"Shit."

"They tell me to claim what is mine."

Sandor blinked rapidly before raising his voice. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I haven't a clue. Hence, why I need to return to Volantis."

He cursed under his breath, kicking the side of the door.

"Korryn was insistent. You need to rest. You couldn't even ride a carriage in this state, much less a dragon."

—
​

He had a brilliant idea.

Even after a month, he would need to work to regain his strength to ride a dragon. But what if he didn't have to?

It started with a call to Asgard. The operators had become talented enough; he could see his grandmother's visage as if looking at a mirror.

She looked ready to murder him on the spot.

Assuring her that he was in good health and would be returning soon took time. Then he had to do the same with Tyrion and Davos.

When his welfare check was over, he summoned Tobho Mott to Valhalla.

The master blacksmith was to take Valyrian steel chains and secure them on a simple but durable carriage after removing the wheels. Next, those chains needed to be tied to two harnesses.

Finally, a door on the front side to allow the wheeled bed to be pushed inside.

The first medical airlift in the history of Planetos.

"My lord, this is a horrible idea. You have been awake for just over a week," Korryn protested, even as the bed was wheeled forward.

Robert waved his hand. "It will be fine."

"I highly doubt that." He stomped off. If his medical advice was going to be ignored, there was no reason to stay here.

Sandor watched the doctor leave. "He is right, this is fucking stupid."

"Noted, now get on."

Sandor growled but pushed the wheeled bed inside. Tobho had even gone as far as to add a spring-loaded system so the carriage would not shake on landing.

Brilliant.

He gave the order, and the dragons took off in sync. The load was distributed evenly, and the locks around the small wheels kept the bed in place. Slowly, the air car rose from the ground, much to the astonishment of the crowd.

The stupor left its place to deafening cheers.

—
​

"I can't believe you had this carriage built just so you could leave early."

"I am not moving out of the bed but still travelling to Volantis. It's a win-win."

"Wake me up when we are there." With this speed, he could nap for a couple of hours.

Once his eyes had closed, sleep had found him quickly. So did the visions. The spirits of the dead beckoned him forward to Volantis louder than before.

"I will."

That promise cut through the cacophony. The spirits disappeared in droves.

He slept in peace for the remainder of the journey.

—
​

Sandor looked out the window. His eyes narrowed at the sight.

One of the oldest cities in the world, with over a million people, gone in an instant. All because R'hllor didn't want Robert to be the one to defeat the Others. Now, Volantis was nothing but dust in the wind, a monument to his foolishness.

And to Robert's might.

He had to beat the envoys of the Free Cities back with the threat of the dragons. Desperate as they were, he saw dozens of noblemen beg for an audience on their knees.

Even Yi-Ti was terrified now.

"What the fuck is that?" he muttered to himself. Right at the center of the hole, he could see a crimson glow now that the sun was setting.

"Get up, we are here."

"Huh? Oh, right."

"There is something glowing down there."

Robert couldn't see it from his side. He nodded, opening the window on his side. "Boys, land near the glow down in the hole."

His dragons growled.

The carriage began to descend. The walls of the giant hole were smooth and angled towards the ground. The stone had melted and cooled down, but not before flowing freely to the ground.

Being so close to finding whatever awaited him down there made the slow landing grate his patience like cheese.

Once the spring-loaded plates touched the ground, the dragons landed slowly.

"I'll check the area first," Sandor said. He left the carriage without a word, sword drawn just in case.

It was dark.

But closeby, something warm and inviting offered a small light. His throat bobbed. The first step was the most difficult one to take. After that, it was just a matter of not stopping.

He could feel it get hot as he closed on the object.

Standing a few feet away from the crystals, he did not dare take another step forward. Sharp, blood-red crystals, akin to solidified flames, created an altar of twin claws around a sword. At least, another crystal roughly shaped like a sword. He could see no edge, only the handle, the handguard, and the part that would be the blade.

He raised a hand towards the sword. Flames lashed out of nowhere, and he jumped back, eyes wide. His heart hammered on his chest, leaving him to scramble back.

"What is it?"

"Something you have to handle."

"Wheel me there."

Sandor squeezed his fists and shuddered. He removed the locks and pulled the bed out of the carriage. His every step was delayed a second. Once he got too close again, the flames burned into existence, pushing him back.

"Give me your sword," Robert said, turning to sit on the bed. It had made his journey extremely comfortable and painless, but this part seemed to require only him.

He handed over his sword as instructed, taking a step back.

Leaning on the sword, he approached the crystals, careful to not jostle his leg. His upright position made the pain flare up again. He had to be quick.

Unlike with Sandor, there were no flames as he approached.

He could feel the warmth emanating from the sword-shaped crystal. It was now or never, and he took the final step. He leaned on the large crystals, checking the temperature first. Laying the Valyrian steel sword aside, he reached out.

His hand stopped inches away from the handle. A dark, slimy feeling creeped into his heart. Eyes closed, he took a deep breath and crushed the doubt swelling inside him.

He grasped the handle, bracing himself.

The crystals surrounding the sword broke into flecks of light that flowed into the sword. The wind, so still and lifeless here, carried two words to him.

"Thank you."

And nothing else happened. There were no grand explosions, no flame shows, nothing.

He pulled it out of the ground. It was most likely Nightblood since R'hllor did not carry a weapon. Whatever happened to his sword, he had no idea. He couldn't even be sure it was Nightblood one hundred percent.

Sandor leaned forward. "That's it?"

"Seems so." He paused for a second. "Let's camp here tonight and return in the morning. The dragons must be tired."

Sandor wheeled Robert back in and removed the harnesses so the beasts could either rest or fly out to hunt. Down in this deep hole, there were no dangers to be cautious of.

Simple rations kept them fed while the carriage offered an excellent spot to sleep in.

It had all gone smoothly.

—
​

Upon returning to Lys, he boarded a ship of the trade fleet returning to Asgard. He was good enough to travel with special accommodations. Not only had he missed home, he didn't want to dodge assassins.

His treatment would also progress better in the comfort of Valhalla. All those reasons were enough for Korryn to drop his objections. The good doctor would be on the ship, checking on his state.

The journey itself was boring. The dragons have been sent to Asgard ahead, as he could not coordinate them from the ship. No one even knew he was on the ship, bar the crew itself.

Ever since the first time he had flown to Braavos, escorting the small trade fleet, no undesirable actors had the courage to attack a vessel carrying the flag of Asgard Trading Company.

They were safe.

His leg was healing well, though it did not change the need for a cane. There wasn't any improvement in his left eye, leaving him in a foul mood.

He distracted himself with the sword. It was warm to touch, but only for him. Violent flames barred anyone else from touching it.

It was the extent of it.

He could not summon the flames at will, and the sword was too dull to cut through anything. It was useful to keep him warm at night, but not much else. He set it aside after a couple of days, turning his attention to his other trophy.

The crystal.

Gaunter had said that it was life force crystallized. It could be used to heal wounds, but he had no idea how.

The unnatural growth of his dragons during the first year had happened because he burned a similar, but smaller, crystal with the Dothraki rider.

If a teardrop could accelerate the growth of dragons so greatly, the one that barely fit his palm could heal his wounds.

In theory.

He tried everything he could think of as a fantasy geek. Focusing on the crystal while meditating to draw its power, trying to resonate his soul with it, and even considering just breaking parts off and swallowing it.

Success was elusive so far. I

He was not going to be fighting ever unless his leg and eye healed, so there was plenty of time.

"If only there was a user manual," he thought, willing the crystal to do anything at all. By tomorrow, the fleet would be docking at Asgard.

Putting the crystal under his pillow and covering the sword with the blanket, he went to sleep. If he was going to be wheeled out of the ship, he wanted to be well rested for it.

—
​

Asgard

Valhalla

"Bring medicine for fever, and ice," Korryn ordered, running after Sandor as he pushed the wheeled bed to the medical wing in Valhalla.

Everything had gone smoothly up until the morning. He found Robert drenched in sweat in his bed, squirming like a fish out of water.

"He said he was fine. What happened?" Rhaelle asked. She had been waiting at the docks to give her grandson a piece of her mind. She had not expected him to be rushed out of the ship in this state.

"A fever unlike any I have ever seen. We need to lower his temperature before his organs shut down."

Korryn shut the medical room's door behind him, leaving everyone outside to sit down and pray.

Notes: Here is the link to the ChatGPT generated image of the sword: https://i.imgur.com/E9wObMc.png

—
​

In the next chapter:

His skin was melting.

Or at least, that's what it felt like. The blood in his veins was boiling, and he was suffocating. Yet, there was a familiar feeling inside the sea of red he found himself in. An old friend he had not seen in years, a food he had not tasted in quite a while, and a home that he last returned to ages ago.

He sought that sensation amid the heat.



Curious about the next chapter? Please consider supporting me on Patreon.

 

[Samael61]

Hello there,

If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.

Robert is a badass who treats killing gods and slaying demons like just another Thursday. Did you know it was inspired by Thairon, the protagonist of my original story, Arrival : Ruptures, long before I began to write it? Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.

—
​

Asgard

Korryn sat on the ground, fanning himself.

"Doctor, how is he?" Tyrion asked, handing a glass of iced water to the man. He has been working for days, and they were desperate for a good word.

"No matter what, we can't reduce the fever. At this point, he is burning with heat far beyond what any man should be able to produce."

"It is not a mere fever," Caerindra said, stepping forward to lay her palm on the door.

"My lady?"

"It is the sword. Your lord has touched its power. Either he takes it, or it burns him from within."

Korryn blinked repeatedly. "Anything we can do to help?" Magic would explain why the ice blocks they had laid over Robert melted as if on open fire.

"Nothing except to wait."

—
​

His skin was melting.

Or at least, that's what it felt like. The blood in his veins was boiling, and he was suffocating. Yet, there was a familiar feeling inside the sea of red he found himself in. An old friend he had not seen in years, a food he had not tasted in quite a while, and a home that he last returned to ages ago.

He sought that sensation amid the heat.

—
​

Tyrion grasped his head between his palms. No matter how careful they were, word of Robert's illness had gotten out. Citizens were worried, the Targaryens were celebrating quietly, and the affairs were tense. Dozens of envoys, along with noble ladies and princesses from all the way to Yi-Ti, were persistently requesting audiences.

He had no answers to give.

Days blended together between work, which brought more pressure now that Robert wasn't here to set everyone straight. Each passing day made Asgard's rivals and enemies bolder. He could not summon the dragons as a show of force.

At the end of the week, while having managed to find the time to sleep, Tyrion woke up to the light of the sun flashing through the slightly parted curtain. He stumbled out of the bed, opening the window to see a blazing pillar set the sky afire.

Telling his wife to stay inside, he took the nearest coat he could find.

—
​

"What is happening here?" Tyrion asked, filling his burning lungs with air before speaking.

"We don't fucking know," Sandor swore, waiting.

"Lady Caerindra, might you be able to offer any ideas?"

She rolled her shoulders, wings twitching for a moment. "Either your lord succeeded and he will be well or he did not and is already dead."

"I regret asking," Tyrion mumbled, averting his gaze.

A guard approached, saluting. "My lord, people gather outside the keep. What shall we say to them?"

"Tell them to wait. Lord Robert will not let us down."

No sooner than the words left his mouth, the width of the pillar began to reduce. Intense flames retreated slowly, letting the night sky slowly take its place over the city once more. They watched with gaping mouths and still breaths until the last embers faded out.

"Who is going to enter?" Davos asked.

Sandor kicked the crackling door open. It was a wonder it hadn't caught on fire yet. A wave of heat surged out, needling their skin with sharp, pinprickling warmth. He covered his face, pushing inside the bedroom.

"My lord, are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just have someone get me clothes. I am naked here."

Guards rushed to find servants with his order. The pillar of fire, which had annihilated the roof of the infirmary building, had the whole city awake. The workers of the castle were no exception.

His wardrobe was raided for clothes, and Sandor personally carried them inside the infirmary. When he left, it was with a frozen face.

The short wait as Robert dressed felt like hours to the restless people. Tyrion kept pacing up and down, while Sandor snapped at every little sound.

When he finally left the burned building, it was in a manner that was so Robert.

"I am definitely going to need a larger wardrobe," he said, fidgeting with his clothing, which was a size too small.

Davos sucked in sharply, while Sandor muttered a curse. Tyrion's eyes were wide, and the guards backed away in fear.

"M-my lord, what happened to you?"

He shook the blood-red crystalline sword in his hand. "It's the sword. Don't I look great?" He grinned, flexing his biceps, displaying his body. Even Sandor was at least a couple of inches shorter than him now, and his muscled body, easily the strongest one in all of Westeros, looked greater than before.

Though, they were not the most important changes.

Doctor Korryn had revealed his left eye and left leg were beyond his capabilities to fix. The left side of his vision would be blurry, and a permanent limp would follow him forever.

His eye was gone now; instead, a crimson orb burned over a field of orange within the socket. It moved like an eye, moving simultaneously with the right eye. The leg was much the same. There was no sign of a limp, not even a stumble.

Even the scar around his neck had disappeared, leaving its place to flawless skin.

Korryn was quick to snap out of his stupor. He walked and knelt before Robert to examine the leg.

He sat down, pulling the leg of his trousers up. When it got stuck, he tore it off, allowing the doctor to touch the flesh. He pressed firmly, feeling the state of the bone.

"Fascinating. I thought nothing short of a miracle could heal your leg. It appears you have found it, my lord."

"Great, now can someone bring me food? I am starving."

—
​

Korryn had insisted on running more tests, starting with his eye. The vision was perfectly normal to Robert. He would say it was even better than before. The leg had passed through every activity, and each one was meant to put more pressure on it than before.

He was declared healthy.

As the almost seven-foot man gorged himself on a small feast, Tyrion had sent criers to the city. Word of Robert's good health reached every corner of the city. At noon, the Lord of Asgard himself would appear before the people.

Seeing their sorry state, he had ordered them to rest.

Except for one person.

"Of all the things to fight, you had to choose a god? Are you out of your damn mind?" Rhaelle screamed, trying to reach for her grandson's ear.

"I am fine, aren't I?"

"Because of this magic on you. Do not think I was deaf to your doctor's words concerning your state."

"All's well that ends well."

His grandmother's lips trembled. She clenched her fists, raised her head, and screamed her frustrations over him to the heavens.

"Think about it this way: R'hllor's dead; I am not."

She only screamed more.

—
​

Once the attention over his miraculous healing had settled down, mostly because their sleep was cut short, he finally had some alone time.

The power of the sword, the crystallized remains of the souls that R'hllor had consumed, along with a portion of his divine essence, now responded to his command.

He held the sword from the blade part, treating it more like a staff. A thrust forward and a mental command fired a beam from the pommel that burned through several training posts. He grinned, slackening his grip. The blade slipped forward, and he grabbed it by right at the tip.

The crystal structure turned into liquid flames with his swing. The rigid body turned flexible, and the flaming whip sliced the wooden posts in half. Each side of the cut was burned to charcoal.

He explored the newfound strength until it was time for his appeal to the citizens.

—
​

"People of Asgard," Robert raised both hands, silencing the cheering crowd. "There have been concerns over my health. I assure you, I am as healthy as a war horse." He had let them chant his name, along with whistles and applause, but the crowd had no intention of stopping.

Choruses rose in groups.

"My latest enemy, R'hllor, the so-called God of Light, has fallen at my hands. I have seized his powers." He pulled the sword out, raising it to air, "since it would be a shame to let it go to waste."

His left eye had already drawn too much attention. He wanted to come clear with the matter.

"In honor of this great victory, not just mine, but all of Asgard's, I have ordered a citywide celebration. We shall eat, drink, and enjoy to our heart's content."

The cheers returned with tenfold intensity.

"I know, I know, you love me, and I love you all back."

He basked in the cheerful shouts of his name for a time.

—
​

While the preparations for the celebration were underway, he had one last matter to take care of.

He had all the envoys gathered in the Administrative Hall, seated around a long table, with him at the head. Twelve envoys, from Braavos to Qarth, were waiting for him to start. Only the Braavosi and the Qartheen envoys weren't avoiding his eyes.

"I have heard some very troubling words." His frosty face swept over the table. He rose, sharp and quick, startling some of the envoys. He gathered his hands at the back, walking to the left side of the table with slow and deliberate steps.

"Such as," he swiftly bent down right over the shoulder of the Myrish envoy, "prayers for my death and celebrations over my crippling wounds," he said, voice even. It terrified the man more than any scream or threat would.

"We would not dare, my lord," the trembling man stuttered out.

"Truly?" he asked, trying to force his smile down.

The envoy shook his head so vigorously I half expected him to hurt his neck. "Truly."

He patted the man on the shoulder once, continuing to walk. "I will certainly remember your words."

"What about the rest of the Free Cities?" he asked, stopping to glance at the remaining envoys. One of them jumped to his feet, arms stuck to his side, shouting the first couple words.

"My lord, I give you my word; should anyone attempt to pray for your death, they will be executed."

"Now, now, no need for that. A simple warning should suffice. Though," he appraised the man bearing classic Valyrian features, "who are you, exactly?"

"I am Molero of Volan Theres."

"Ah," he said, remembering the name after a beat of silence, "one of the towns of Volantis, yes?"

It was a town of Volantis but had a larger population than any city in Westeros.

"Indeed."

"Speaking of Volantis, I should clarify what truly transpired there to avoid confusion," he said, standing at the other end of the table.

"You see, Melisandre of Asshai has been trying to assassinate me with shadow magic for a while. I came to learn it was under the orders of R'hllor," he said, resuming his round around the table.

"In an effort to seek a way to thwart her plans, I and my trustworthy guard," he gestured to Sandor, who was waiting at the side of his seat, "journeyed to Asshai. I shall spare you the details, but I have discovered a way to slay a god. It required me to journey to Stygai, the corpse city. There, I discovered the heart of a necromancer, a foul sorcerer who raised the dead. I took his heart, which summoned his spirit back. Turns out, the shadows in the Shadow Lands were actually his spirit, torn apart once his body could not handle the power. Hence, once I vanquished the necromancer, the Shadow Lands were no more."

"T-truly, your bravery is beyond mere humans like us," the Lyseni envoy squeaked out.

"How kind of you to say that."

"Following my success in Stygai, I made my way to the Temple of the Lord of Light. I discovered that R'hllor was beneath the temple, waiting in the catacombs to devour enough souls and ascend to a higher state."

"I outwitted him, and once he lowered his guard, I stabbed him in the heart," he explained as the envoys listened with rapt attention.

"I had not expected him to blow up and destroy Volantis."

"My bad." He leaned over Molero's shoulder this time, almost whispering the word.

He took his seat once again. "Any questions?" The envoys glanced at one another but did not rise to speak.

"No? Very well then."

"Now," he clapped his hands, startling the envoys once again, "with Volantis gone, the towns it once controlled will need new management, correct?" Molero nodded at his words slowly, eyes darting around.

"I believe Volan Theres should take that role," he said, gesturing to the envoy.

He was still for a moment before leaping to his feet again. "A wise decision, my lord, we will not let you down."

"I am sure you won't. Who else wants to hear another wise decision of mine?" He gazed across the table once more. In an instant, every envoy raised a hand.

"Excellent."

"You see, I believe that slavery is a blight on humanity and should be banned forever. In fact, it should be declared one of the gravest crimes. Every slave should be set free. Every slaver who does not do so should be executed."

The Braavosi envoy's eyes sparkled, a clear contrast to the rest who appeared ready to object.

He tapped the floor with his sword, smothering the embers of complaints before they could turn into flames. "Isn't this a wise decision too?"

"It is my lord," the Qohorik envoy said after raising his hand to speak. "Yet, it will ruin our trade and plunge the cities into chaos, giving more opportunities to the slavers."

"I know. Which is why the Asgard Trading Company shall invest in your cities generously, provided you sign the Declaration of Human Rights, which I shall deliver to you as soon as it is ready."

"Truly, your wisdom knows no bounds," the Braavosi envoy said, speaking for the first time.

"You are dismissed then. The details will be forwarded to you at a later date. In the meantime, enjoy the countless bounties of Valhalla."

—
​

Sandor was howling once the envoys had left. Robert too chuckled every time he remembered the terrified faces.

"They looked ready to shit themselves on the spot."

"I am sure they were too scared to do it here. With how fast some ran, they are definitely heading to the privy."

His words only made Sandor cackle more.

The second part of the meeting was less annoying. The girls from Yi-Ti were gorgeous Asian princesses, though the mindless giggling and eye batting didn't exactly endear any to him.

They were promptly sent away.

The third and final piece of business he had was a letter from Asshai. The citizens wished to rename the Shadow Lands and requested permission to use his name. He, in his infinite generosity, allowed it.

Hence, Robert Lands was born in far Essos, thousands of miles away from Asgard.

—
​

In the next chapter:

"The preparations are proceeding well, Your Grace," Wyman said, wiping the sweat on his forehead.

"Some good tidings, at last," Rhaegar thought, waving the Master of Coin away.

"Yes. Such a pity Robert did not die."

"Don't," Rhaegar growled at Varys, holding his head between his hands, squeezing to crush the developing ache, "utter his name."



Curious about the next chapter? Please consider supporting me on Patreon.

 

[Samael61]

Hello there,

If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.

Robert is a badass who treats killing gods and slaying demons like just another Thursday. Did you know it was inspired by Thairon, the protagonist of my original story, Arrival : Ruptures, long before I began to write it? Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.

—
​

Asgard

Robert was doing an exercise he had never done before.

Meditating.

He wanted to master the new magical sword as soon as possible. The more he harmonized with it, the more apparent the effects became. His left eye was now a crimson, burning orb within a black void.

The sword itself could take any shape he could imagine and impose on it. Great sword, hammer, whip, spear, even a bow that fired exploding flame arrows.

Soon, he would do more.

The sword, lying over his crossed legs, moved. It was a twitch at first, as if it were trying to turn over. The handle side shot up forward, hovering over his right leg, spinning lazily.

He ordered it to rise. It did so by embedding halfway into the ceiling of the private sparring room. He sighed, willing it to come back down. It struggled for a while, carving a wider hole, and dropped to the ground.

Another command suspended the sword in the air. He gently moved it around himself in a circle, simply focused on keeping the speed and the accuracy consistent.

He brought it to a stop, tilting the sword so the handle faced him. It launched forward, tearing through the head of the training post. The jagged hole behind was scorched black. The sword turned around, the crystalline edge sharpening. It spun like a circular saw, each pass cutting knuckle-thick pieces.

The next training post did not fare any better.

—
​

He had to cut his training short. Ellyn, the young apprentice of Caerindra, was ready to put all that she had learned to work. She would create the headquarters of the First Legion, at least parts of it.

Outside the city, where the expanded part of the wall would cover the new, enormous complex that would house the ten thousand men currently under training, he waited at the head of a crowd.

"Go on, don't make us wait," he said, giving her a gentle push. Obelisk had already melted a pool of stone into lava for her use. There was no reason to drag this out anymore.

She nodded, taking a step forward with clenched hands.

Taking a deep breath to calm her raging nerves, she spread her hands. The surface of the pool rippled. Once she began to raise her hands, the lava responded. Flowing like a very viscous liquid, it rose to the air. She guided the stream to the foundations.

Slowly, the headquarters of the First Legion took shape.

Obelisk blasted the furnace above, causing a fresh wave of lava to flow into the pool. The amount necessary for the headquarters was already gathered. Ellyn had her work cut out for her with the thousands of tonnes of stones.

He would pay her accordingly, of course.

The slow but steady stream of lava filled the foundation, solidifying into a white, matte stone. Layer by layer, her work continued before the baffled crowd. When she could no longer continue and her arms fell, work that would take weeks was done.

Robert started clapping very enthusiastically. It broke the gathered mass out of their stupor. Chants of Elly had the young woman blush like a tomato.

—
​

"You are leaving already?" he asked Caerindra. The display had barely ended, yet her bags were already packed.

"I have fulfilled my end of the bargain. There is no reason for me to stay any longer."

He could see the faraway look in her eyes. She must have missed her people dearly.

"Can't disagree. If you are ready, I'll take you back," he said.

"No need. Just have your dragon land me near the entrance."

"The path back wasn't exactly secure." Hunting more spiders down would give him an excuse to test his new powers.

"We have a little trick for going back down. I shall be safe; you don't have to worry."

"Alright. Just don't forget to tell your people the truth about Asgard."

She snorted. "That their lord is a madman who slew a god and carries his power?"

"That too, but about how Asgard is safe, accepting, and progressive for all races."

He chose Ra for the task. Caerindra waved from atop the dragon as she left. Her departure was without fanfare, as she had requested, but her presence and company would be missed.

—
​

He had decided to inspect the city for the rest of the day. Nothing like the surprise arrival of the city's lord to ensure no one had any funny ideas.

The bustling market had three issues.

"Boy, where is the butcher?" he asked, glancing around the shop. There was something wrong.

The boy, not even ten years old by his estimate, jumped to his feet, eyes wide. "Master is inside, milord. I shall call him immediately."

The noise coming from the back changed his mind.

"Wait, I'll go see him," he said, pulling the boy back. He barged inside, lips slightly parted at the sight.

"What the hell?" he growled, seeing the knife near the donkey's throat.

The butcher froze, dropping the knife. "I-I can explain, milord."

Flames poured out of his left eye, reaching his brow. "You can?"

"Aye, we were, uh, I was, that is, I was just shaving the donkey."

"Shaving the donkey? Oh go on then, let me see your technique."

The fat man's throat bobbed. He pushed the other apprentice to bring soap and water. The boy returned soon with them. Foaming the soap, the man slathered it on the donkey's muzzle while the apprentice sharpened the knife.

He, along with Sandor and Tyrion, watched the man actually shave the donkey.

"Not bad, not bad. You definitely should have been a barber," he said. The butcher smiled, but Robert's next words caused him to pass out.

"Get the donkey out of here, ban this place, revoke his license, and send him to the cells to await trial."

"Yes, my lord."

The second issue was with a grain seller.

"Milord, welcome to my humble store. Fairest prices in all of Asgard."

"They certainly are."

He inspected almost every product. Corn, wheat, barley—everything was in good condition, and there was no foul play. He was impressed with the state of the store. With such affordable prices, it would certainly be the favorite of many citizens.

His instincts told him something was amiss.

Approaching the scale, he pushed the end with the weight down. It went back faster than he expected.

The shop owner's eyes widened when he reached for the bag one of the men was carrying and pulled out a one-pound weight. He put it on the other pan.

When two equal weights were put on the scale, it should stay evenly leveled. Surprisingly, his weight went down.

"Tyrion, I think our weight is broken. Certainly, such an honorable man would not do something like this, right?"

The dwarf coughed into his fist. "Indeed, my lord. If I did not know any better, I would say we were trying to screw this man over."

"I believe the punishment is the seizure of all the illegal profits and suspension of the shop and the license for a month. You have until the end of the day to move all the perishables out for storage. Otherwise, they will be bought at half the rate."

The shop owner fainted, leaving the officers to go through his ledgers.

The last one was the most personal to him.

"Explain to me. How exactly is there no cacao or chocolate anywhere?" he asked, teeth involuntarily grinding. This was the seventh bakery he had visited. He only wanted a slice of chocolate cake to finish his day.

It shouldn't have been this difficult.

The aging baker lowered her head. "Milord, the wholesalers say the last batch has gone bad. The chocolate makers can't afford the new price. We haven't been able to buy any for three days."

"Where are those wholesalers?"

The bakery directed them to the docks. He stomped the entire way, threatening to leave cracks on the pavement with each step. Only the fact that he would have to pay for it kept his fury at bay.

He found one of the wholesalers before a crowd, trying to explain his situation.

Wun Weg pushed the crowd aside gently. Robert reached the short, round man, hands gathered at the back, eyes squinting, lips twitching every now and then.

"M-milord."

"I would like to see how many pods you have left now."

"Of course, this way," he said, waddling to open the gate's lock.

He blinked. In the middle of the room, eight crates were stacked together. The rest of the warehouse was barren, not a single more cocoa pod in sight.

"As you can see, this is all that is left in my hands. If I don't increase the price, I will have no way to recoup my losses."

He clicked his tongue. A chocolate shortage was unacceptable to him.

His giant guard walked inside. The boards beneath his feet creaked. He sniffed at the small cluster of crates. Before he could take any, the ground gave away. He fell with a dull thud, breaking something.

The wholesaler was sweating now.

Robert rolled his eyes, approaching the hole.

"Wun Weg, are you alright?" he asked. The giant grunted, holding his hand up. He took it by the wrist, pulling Wun Weg with ease no other could boast.

When he came up, it was with another crate of pods, one that was most certainly not among the pile.

"Pods, lots of pods."

He turned his neck so sharply, the crack felt like a whip. The round man was whimpering now.

There would be no mercy for him.

—
​

He paced in front of the three swindlers who had been tied to a post in their undergarments. Not only had all three reached a deal to hide their cocoa pods to inflate the prices, they had done it in his city.

"Citizens of Asgard," he shouted, arms open. "These rats have been caught trying to swindle us. Let this be a lesson to all who seek to profit by believing I and the public servants of the city are blind."

"We are not. You will be found and punished for Asgard."

"For Asgard!"

—
​

"Today was truly productive," Tyrion said, handing over the last of the papers for the archives.

"I know. I should go out more," Robert muttered, sitting crosslegged in the middle of his private study.

"Is there a reason you are doing this meditation exercise again, my lord?"

"Quiet, I almost got it."

Blood red flames sparked into life, spreading from the front of his forehead over his ears and becoming one at the back. The thin lines flared, turning flat and sharp, like leafs.

"What the?"

"Hah!" He leaped to his feet, running to the mirror. He checked the laurels, making minor adjustments.

"My lord?"

"I call this my Laurel of Victory." His hand glided over the flames, careful to not disturb its form. "It is fitting, don't you think?"

Tyrion rolled his shoulders. "You are the one with the magical powers; far be it from me to disagree."

He chuckled, splitting his focus to protect the laurel's shape. As his proficiency with the sword's magic increased, he was looking to make use of the crystal as well. Starting with Sandor, who had been keeping a distance due to the fire.

Apparently, he could handle the dragons belching fire, but not him. Only humans seemed to trigger his trauma, and he knew a possible way to help. The crystal was better put to use than left to gather dust.

All he needed was to have its magic respond to him.

—
​

King's Landing

The most populated city in the Seven Kingdoms was experiencing an unnatural surge in numbers. A tourney would be held to celebrate the first named year of Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, first in line to the throne after his father, King Rhaegar I Targaryen.

Attendance was expected to be in great numbers. The rewards for the joust, melee, and archery were some of the greatest in recent memory. Every knight worth his salt would take place, either for the gold or for the prestige.

But one matter cast a great shadow on the tourney.

The Godslayer, the latest title of the Lord of Asgard, was a matter that the people were not going to stop talking about any time soon.

Word of Robert's latest deeds, bringing light to the Shadow Lands by killing a foul mage and slaying R'hllor in man-to-god combat, were deeds fit for the legends of the Age of Heroes. Even the total destruction of Volantis paled in the shadow of his greatness.

Even Yi-Ti had sent princesses and ladies to win him over to no avail.

—
​

The Red Keep

"The preparations are proceeding well, Your Grace," Wyman said, wiping the sweat on his forehead.

"Some good tidings, at last," Rhaegar thought, waving the Master of Coin away.

"Yes. Such a pity Robert did not die."

"Don't," Rhaegar growled at Varys, holding his head between his hands, squeezing to crush the developing ache, "utter his name."

He was quick to bow. "I apologize, Your Grace."

He had decided to not take any action against Robert and his family. After the Shadow Lands, Volantis, and R'hllor, he was terrified of what the man would do next.

Tywin stole a look at the Spider. "Lord Stark has sent a letter. He should arrive soon."

The eunuch would forget the ban on mentioning that name every other week. It was getting tiresome.

"What else?" He asked, mind drifting elsewhere. He was sure Lyanna would be delighted to see her father.

"He has a detailed report on the Wall's state. He says that the influx of men and resources, as well as the return of the Gift, has done much to improve the Watch." Men and resources that the Westerlands had to contribute as well.

In lieu of Robert's deeds, the Stormlands was the sole region to be excluded.

"And the Ironborn?"

"They have been obedient ever since Lord Stark visited the Wall."

The rest of his report was concerning the tourney. The city had to be distracted from Robert's heroics and charisma. He was already becoming more beloved than the king, in the seat of the Targaryens no less.

He had no idea what to do. Even the tourney was unlikely to be more than a momentary diversion. His experience in ruling and war did not present him any path forward. Killing Robert was out of the question. At best, he would advocate to keep away from the man.

A sleeping monster was best left where it was.

He had even retracted the secret bounty on Tyrion's head. His pride was shattered, but the Lord of Asgard had made it clear that the dwarf and his commoner wife were under his protection.

His only condolence was the fact that Rhaegar did not follow in Daeron's footsteps. Obsessed with prophecy might be, but the king was sharp enough to keep away from the godslayer.

Just as they all would do.

—
​

In the next chapter:

"Lord Tyrion, what is the meaning of this? Where is Lord Robert?" the Pentosi envoy asked, face red like a tomato.

Tyrion looked around, thinking, quickly deciding to tell the truth. "He has left to resolve the matter of the storm."

"How so?"

"You don't want to know," he assured the envoy. Even he didn't want to know, and he was the second-highest-ranked person in the city.

"We have spent months planning for this moment. I do want to know," the envoy demanded.

Tyrion looked at the man with half-lidded eyes and shrugged. "Well, do you know the story of Durran Godsgrief?"



Curious about the next chapter? Please consider supporting me on Patreon.

 

[Samael61]

I shared 4 pilot chapters for my stories in this link in Questionable Questing. They include : Mortal Considerations - Hela X Original Male Character, Percy Jackson and the Powers of the Unholy Triangle - Percy Jackson with Bill Cipher's powers, End of Days - Doomsday in Invincible Universe, which I already posted under its own thread, and the Many Heroes : MHA x League of Legends. You can check them to see what we have going for the future.