《Game of Thrones: Reign of the Dragonking》


 [1] I Do Not Plan to Die

    Chapter 1: I Do Not Plan to Die


    ¡ª


    ¡°You¡¯re no king,¡± Khal Drogo declared in the guttural Common Tongue Daenerys had taught him, his voice echoing through the hall. ¡°Your place is on the ground.¡±


    Hundreds of Dothraki voices erupted in wild laughter, a deafening roar that swallowed the hall whole. Ser Jorah stood beside Viserys, shouting fiercely into his ear, but the clamor was so immense that Dany couldn¡¯t make out a single word. Viserys yelled back, pushing against Jorah until the knight shoved him, knocking him to the ground in one swift motion.


    Viserys drew his sword. The bare steel gleamed a vicious red, catching the firelight from the pits. ¡°Keep away from me!¡± he spat, eyes darting like a cornered animal.


    Ser Jorah took a measured step back, and Viserys, wobbling, managed to stagger to his feet, brandishing the sword over his head like a battle standard. The borrowed blade from Magister Illyrio looked almost absurd in his hands, a mockery of the king he fancied himself to be.


    The Dothraki shrieked and cursed at him from all sides, their voices laced with venom and disdain. Dany felt a strangled cry tear its way from her throat, her heart racing. She knew, even if Viserys didn¡¯t, that drawing a sword here was a death sentence.


    Her cry caught his attention. His head whipped around, and he finally saw her. ¡°There she is,¡± he sneered, his gaze narrowing as he staggered toward her, slicing at the air as though parting a sea of enemies. No one moved to stop him.


    ¡°The blade . . . you must not,¡± she begged him. ¡°Please, Viserys. It is forbidden. Put down the sword and come share my cushions. There¡¯s drink, food . . . is it the dragon¡¯s eggs you want? You can have them, only throw away the sword.¡±


    ¡°Do as she tells you, fool,¡± Ser Jorah shouted, ¡°before you get us all killed.¡±


    Viserys only laughed, a broken sound that teetered between madness and despair. ¡°They can¡¯t kill us. They can¡¯t shed blood here in the sacred city . . . but I can.¡± What he meant by that was soon clear as he laid the point of his sword between Daenerys¡¯s breasts and slid it downward over the curve of her belly. ¡°I want what I came for,¡± he told her as her breathing stopped.


    ¡°Viserys¡­ take the blade away.¡±


    ¡°I want the crown he promised me. He bought you, but he never paid for you. Tell him I want what I bargained for, or I¡¯m taking you back. You and the eggs both. He can keep his bloody foal. I¡¯ll cut the bastard out and leave it for him.¡±


    The sword pricked through the thin silk at her navel. She could see the tears in his eyes, hear the sob that caught in his throat, mingling with a hollow, hysterical laugh. This man, her brother, or what was left of him.


    Somewhere behind her, Jhiqui was sobbing, pleading in Dothraki, her words a desperate murmur. Dany wrapped an arm around her, drawing the girl close. ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid,¡± she murmured. ¡°I shall tell him.¡± S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She gathered what words she could, her tongue stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables. But when Khal Drogo¡¯s eyes met hers, she knew he understood. He stood from the high bench, a towering shadow outlined by firelight.


    Viserys recoiled, his face paling as the silence deepened. The only sound in the hall was the soft chiming of the bells in Drogo¡¯s braid with each step he took. His bloodriders flanked him, copper shadows of death. Dany felt an icy calm settle over her as she met her brother¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°He says you¡¯ll have a crown,¡± she told him, her voice steady. ¡°A splendid golden crown that men shall tremble to behold.¡±


    Viswrys grinned, but it stopped midway. In that moment, something shifted in Viserys¡¯ eyes. It seemed like magic to Dany¡¯s eyes, how sharply the change occurred. The drunken haze lifted from his eyes, and for an instant, he seemed lucid, awake with wide eyes¡ªas if for the first time in his life.


    What¡¯s going on with him? Daenerys asked herself, her breathing hitched as the sword did not pull back from her belly.


    ****


    My memories returned in the blink of an eye.


    What the FUCK is going on?! I screamed in my head, my hand trembling on the hilt of my sword. This- this situation. This is from Game of Thrones, isn¡¯t it? What- who am I?


    My memories were clear in my head. Memories carrying the identity of two people. It had been more than two decades since I¡¯d been born here, but for the first time ever, I felt awake. After hearing that single line, ¡®a splendid golden crown that men shall tremble to behold,¡¯ my existence seemed to have awakened.


    My true memories, not those of Viserys Targaryen¡ªa fucking TV Character¡ªbut the ones I carried from Earth, stirred in my head. Was this a fever dream? It¡­ it definitely didn¡¯t feel like one. Everything was too real, my five senses, my mind, and the two sets of memories. It wasn¡¯t a lucid dream that I had become Viserys Targaryen. At least, it didn¡¯t feel like one.


    ¡°...Aren¡¯t you going to pull the sword away, Viserys?¡±


    Meaning I was going to die. In a few minutes from now on, this bitch in front of me was going to see me die and do nothing about it. Shit, why am I calling her a bitch? She has all the right to kill Viserys after all he did. It seems living as Viserys for 22 years has created quite some problems in my character.


    Regardless, the matter of fact was that I was going to die.


    And I didn¡¯t really want to.


    I just regained my sense of self after dying on Earth. No way I was going to die again. I had to figure something out. My ears heard the dramatic rush of my adrenaline as I decided on a dumb and risky. But compared to the only other option¡­


    ¡°Crown!¡± Khal Drogo had roared in the TV Show. ¡°Here. A crown for a King!¡± And upended the pot over the head of the man that I had now become.


    I didn¡¯t want to die, and this was the only possible way away from the Dothraki.


    ¡°...Dany, my dear,¡± I looked into the eyes of my sister, the future Queen of Dragons, as I pushed my sword a bit. She was still a little girl, and I had to use her to escape. ¡°Escort me out of here, will you?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Daenerys sounded stupefied as I grabbed her neck from behind and pushed her forward. The Dothraki shouted, but Khal Drogo raised a hand to stop them. He didn¡¯t want to risk the sword that I still pressed against his yet-to-be-born son.


    This can be done. I had to be careful, but it was possible. I pushed her out, watching her struggle as she demanded in a sobbing voice why I was acting like this, but I didn¡¯t stop. I pushed her out of the tent we were in, finding ourselves under the open night sky.


    ¡°Do not approach!¡± I shouted, looking around, my sword pointing at her belly. The Dothraki outside gasped as Khal Drogo and his goons walked out from the tent. I stopped myself from swallowing.


    I was surrounded by thousands of Dothraki here, and fire lamps burned all around me as if threatening to melt my head. If I failed here, I¡¯d totally be burnt like in the original timeline.


    ¡°Bring me a horse!¡± I demanded, ¡°Bring me a horse, now!¡±


    ¡°Calm down, Prince. I¡¯ll bring you a horse,¡± Ser Jorah said, turning on his heel and walking away. I counted my breaths, surrounded by Dothrakis who seemed to circle around me. Khal Drogo growled. ¡°Stay away from us,¡± I said, and a trickle of blood dripped from Daenerys¡¯ belly. ¡°I see what you¡¯re trying to do, and I hate it. Move!¡±


    Khal Drogo raised a hand, and the crowd dispersed, growing distant from us. As the crowd lessened, my eyes caught something that was hidden behind them all this time. There was a stone altar, and three large and scaly eggs rested above it, resting under the fire lamp right above.


    The dragon eggs, I walked over with Daenerys by my side as I approached the eggs. As I closed the distance, a hologram-like text floated above it. I blinked. What¡¯s that?


    [Collect] [Collect] [Collect]


    That looks oddly familiar, I had a feeling what that was. I reached out the hand that was holding Daenerys¡¯ neck, and touched one of the eggs.


    Immediately, an arrow came flying!


    It passed right through where my hand was a few seconds ago, for the egg had blinked into thin air, and my hand had fallen down. If not for that, my hand would have been ripped apart, and the Dothraki would have jumped me immediately.


    ¡°Who the hell fired that?!¡± I quickly grabbed Daenerys¡¯ neck again, my sword poking her in the chest. Blood trickled down, painting the fabrics over her belly red. ¡°Drogo, kill that fucker who fired that arrow! Otherwise, I¡¯ll kill your baby!¡±


    Drogo growled, and his head snapped to the side. Hidden behind a crowd, there was a Dothraki man who held an arrow. He panicked as Drogo¡¯s eyes locked onto him. Drogo looked to the men beside him and nodded. They moved, weapon at hand, as the blades cut the throat of the archer swiftly.


    That should hold back others from firing for a bit, even if little, I breathed in. I wanted the other two Dragon eggs too. But¡­ I didn¡¯t want to risk it again and cost my life. I didn¡¯t even know where the egg was right now. Some kind of [Inventory]?


    ¡°I have the horse,¡± Ser Jorah returned, the sound of hooves hitting the ground as a strong, muscular white horse walked behind him. I breathed in.


    ¡°Help me lead the horse out of the village, Ser Jorah. Through the western gate,¡± I said and snapped my head toward Khal Drogo. ¡°Order all your Dothraki to move to the east. And they better stay there until I¡¯m gone! Otherwise, you guys will lose your next Khal!¡± I poked my crying sister¡¯s belly again, watching the Dothraki growl in anger all around me.


    Khal Drogo clapped his hand, shouting something in his language. All the Dothraki moved, focusing on one side of the village. I scoffed, ¡°Hah. I can sense those hiding, Drogo. Tell them to come out too.¡±


    I looked deep into his eyes, and he clapped his hands again. Dozens of Dothraki moved from behind tents and headed to the east. They growled, shooting me glares of anger.


    Ser Jorah sighed and nodded. He led the horse toward the now-empty part of the village, and I followed him with Daenerys in my grasp. I didn¡¯t turn my back to the Dothraki. That¡¯d be suicide. I walked backward, barely following Ser Jorah, as we approached the western part of the village.


    ¡°This is foolish, Prince,¡± Ser Jorah said once we were out of range.


    ¡°They were going to kill me, Ser,¡± I muttered. ¡°I know they were. Why else do you think I became sober in a second? I saw it¡­ in¡­ in the fire.¡± I intentionally made it sound mystical. That way, Ser Jorah would assume I had gained some magic.


    ¡°I am sorry, little Dany,¡± I told the crying Targaryen Princess who was sobbing with her jaws clenched. ¡°But your stupid husband wants me dead.¡±


    ¡°Because of something you did yourself!¡±


    ¡°Shh, now, if you talk back so loudly I¡¯ll have to knock your teeth out so that the spying Dothraki realize I haven¡¯t grown soft in a minute,¡± I said, dragging her with me as we soon approached the western part.


    It was barren of any people, for all the Dothraki were a few minutes away from here. Still, riding a horse on my own from here would be suicide.


    ¡°Get up, sister,¡± I took out the dagger that Ser Jorah carried on his thigh and pressed it on her belly. A sword would make it harder to climb the horse for me. She grumbled and mounted the horse, and I mounted after her, shouting back, ¡°Don¡¯t shoot any arrow! Because if my body falls, I¡¯ll put my weight on my dagger as I die!¡±


    No arrows came flying.


    Ser Jorah sighed from the ground, ¡°They¡¯ll kill you for this.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s if they ever find me, Ser,¡± I smiled at him and then pulled the lead rope. The horse neighed, and it blasted forward at a terrible speed.


    The night breeze rustled my hair as I kept shouting to warn the Dothraki about their arrows and about their bad decision if they chose to pursue me. My dagged remained pressed on my sister¡¯s belly as the barren desert land passed by us. Although I called it desert, it wasn¡¯t a desert of sand, but grass. The great Dothraki Grass Sea.


    Hills passed, covered in tall grass, as did the few actual trees that marked the land. All the while, adrenaline didn¡¯t leave my body for a single second.


    Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes into hours. Until I slowed down beside an oasis, a little pond with some large trees above it. letting out a breath. I withdrew my dagger and mounted off the horse. I patted Dany on her thighs, motioning her to come down.


    She stared at me, her eyes dark. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that look, sister,¡± I shrugged, pulling her down. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to die. You stay here. The oasis has plenty of water to survive the few hours it¡¯d take the Dothraki to arrive. And please, don¡¯t tell them which direction I¡¯ll be going if only to repay me for not kidnapping you and separating you from your dearest husband.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a bad man,¡± she stared at me and said. ¡°You¡¯re a taint on all brothers in the world.¡±


    I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, something flashed before my eyes. It was the hologram of a text message floating smoothly over a fancy box. Like those of game windows.


    [Achievement Unlocked. You¡¯ve survived your original death, steering into a plotline that never existed. The tutorial mission ¡®Survive¡¯ has been fulfilled.]


    [You¡¯ve unlocked full access to ¡®The Dragon System¡¯.]


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± I muttered, blinking at the sight as my lips widened a little. The windows vanished, and I looked at Daenerys. ¡°It seems you¡¯re wrong, my sister. I,¡± I looked deeply into her eyes, ¡°am a dragon.¡±


    The night embraced me once more as I rode the horse faster than before, leaving behind Daenerys and the cursed Dothraki. Riding toward somewhere far from them both, for one didn¡¯t have to be a genius to know that they all wanted me dead, and they¡¯ll live by that desire if they ever met me again.


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    Master4thWall Note: New Story, heya! I hope you liked the start. A lot more fast-paced than the start of my other stories. I''ll post the next chapter soon in a few hours, so leave some comments for some algorithm boost!!

 [2] I’ve Already Been Found?!

    Chapter 2: I¡¯ve Already Been Found?! S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡ª


    Seven Kingdoms, one continent. Westeros was an enjoyable place on the screen but a harsh place to live in. Especially for a modern man who¡¯d just regained his memories.


    In hindsight, Essos was better. Sure there was slavery, but slavery¡¯s on your side if you had the money. I had a pouch of gold coins, and using that I could buy slaves and spend my days in luxury until the end. Unfortunately, my pride as a Targaryen remained raging despite regaining my memories. I had lived as the fool that was Viserys Targaryen for 22 years, and the blood in my veins demanded I return to Westeros and reclaim ¡°my¡± throne.


    But pride was one thing, logic another. I didn¡¯t have the ambition of ruling the seven kingdoms. I didn¡¯t have the ambition for anything right now, nor did I know what I wanted. Nonstop horse riding for the last two weeks had left me confused and hungry, and the only thing I knew was that I didn¡¯t want to die. And returning to Westeros and fighting for the throne was certain death.


    In that case, wasn¡¯t it better to just stay here?


    A land where the old Gods have long since lost their influence, and the new ones reigned supreme. That was Essos, a continent almost double the size of Westeros.


    ¡°...Fuck,¡± I cursed, swallowing my saliva. I couldn¡¯t hold back anymore. I yanked out the water skin strapped to my side and poured it down my throat. The half a mouthful of remaining water fell into my throat, and I gulped. I sucked on it till the last drop and coughed when nothing more fell.


    It¡¯s not as if villages didn¡¯t exist here where I could have refilled the water. But the problem was that stopping anywhere meant the chance of being recaptured by the Dothraki would grow higher. It was too dangerous to take the chance.


    I hoped Daenerys hadn¡¯t sold me out, but I didn¡¯t trust her not to.


    I had just ridden my horse in a random direction. Thankfully, it wasn¡¯t the Red Waste that I ended up in; otherwise, I¡¯d have died from dehydration by now. No, I think I was making my way toward the sea.


    ¡°Come on, get moving,¡± I sighed and patted my horse. That thing had been carrying me for far too long. The short breaks during the night were mostly to let it rest, as much as it was to catch myself some sleep.


    I couldn¡¯t stay in Essos.


    There was no way I could. Game of Thrones was one of those worlds where a butterfly effect could cause immense change in the entire world. A man might survive if the wind blew the wrong way, and that man might charge an army to King¡¯s Landing a week later, writing the pages of history anew. It was that type of world. And now that something objectively major has changed¡ªwhere the Targaryen trademark didn¡¯t remain under Daenerys¡¯ sole existence¡ªthe world might go through a whole different plotline just because of this.


    For example, Khal Drogo might not die. In that case, the Dothraki would certainly continue searching for me forever. And the day they find me, and they definitely will someday, for a man could only hide for so long, they¡¯d tie me behind a horse and ride into the horizon. I wasn¡¯t ready to have my balls mutilated by cobblestone roads.


    If I remained in Essos, death was imminent.


    On the other hand, I could survive in Westeros as long as I didn¡¯t gun for the throne. I was five years old when I left Westeros; nobody would recognize me. I¡¯d even cut my hair and grow a beard for additional certainty.


    [Ding! END + 1 for staying strong on an empty stomach.]


    Ah, and there¡¯s this thing too. In the worst-case scenario, I had this to rely on. I¡¯d played my fair share of games back in my last life, and if this System thing wasn¡¯t my mind playing tricks on me, it meant I had a genuine shot at building myself into superman.


    ===


    Viserys Targaryen


    22 Years Old


    Level 2


    -


    2 STR


    4 END


    2 DEX


    7 INT


    7 LUC


    ===


    It was a game-like system window. The Gamer System. Although it lacked much of the original¡¯s features, which was probably the reason why it called itself the Dragon System, I could see myself rising high with its help. I had gained one level during this horse ride, and all of my stats increased by 1 through that.


    I definitely couldn¡¯t survive a second against a hundred thousand Dothraki though.


    Yep, I had to leave Essos. The decision was made. The original Viserys could never have taken this decision without an army, or else his balls would have jumped to his shoulders, but I was different. I knew the plot, and I had a [System]. I also had a new [Quest].


    [Quest: Waking the Dragon.]


    It was about the dragon egg I stole. There were much more details in the quest, some advice on how to hatch it, but I couldn¡¯t focus on that yet, so no point in wasting time thinking about it.


    I had yet to decide on a true goal, but for a start, I had to grab a ship to cross the seas.


    Wait¡­


    ¡°Hah, is that another mirage?¡± I blinked at the sight in the distance. After leaving the Dothraki Grass Sea, I stumbled upon a land mostly barren with stones and hills. For the first time since then, I saw large signs of human civilization in the distance.


    There were high walls, and there was a sea. Was I seeing things again, or did I actually stumble upon a port city? I could see the light at the end of the tunnel!


    Then I fell.


    My horse wavered underneath me, falling on its knees, as I was sent tumbling forward, rolling on the soil. I coughed, rising up, ¡°Argh! Shit, stupid little-¡±


    I cursed the poor horse and sighed. I went silent and slowly approached it, hand reaching out to pat it. ¡°Neigh¡­¡± It looked worn out. Its majestic white fur was darkened from the week¡¯s journey. It had brought me here so far, so I couldn¡¯t bring myself to be harsh at it.


    I looked into its eyes and sighed. ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll rest for a bit. Don¡¯t die on me.¡±


    It was risky, but I couldn¡¯t really walk from here even if I could see the city. The distance was too much, and it¡¯d take hours. I should just rest for those hours instead.


    ****


    The rhythmic drum of hooves was the only sound breaking the stillness of the barren plains. The sun hung low, casting a dull orange hue across the horizon, while the distant outline of Volantis City slowly came into view.


    My eyes glinted in awe at the sight. I was approaching a real medieval city. The city rose like a sleeping beast, its ancient branches sprawling, its walls towering above the flat landscape. A slight breeze stirred the dry grass, carrying with it the scent of saltwater from the nearby river, mixing with the dust that clung to everything.


    I could make out the silhouette of the Long Bridge, arching high above the Rhoyne like a spine, connecting the two halves of the city. It seemed peaceful from a distance, but I knew better. In Volantis, peace was a lie. Volantis was a city inhabited by mostly slaves.


    Volantis. One of the oldest cities in Essos, a place where the chains of the past never stopped rattling. Stupid old people loyal to old traditions ruled this land.


    As for how I knew for sure that it was Volantis City? The mini-map floating in the corner of my vision showed the name. Volantis City.


    Even though I, as Viserys Targaryen, hadn¡¯t seen the place before, I remembered seeing it in the show. The system wasn''t just handing me game stats; it was giving me other useful tools too, like this map. The faint glow of the name made me recognize it.


    The closer I got, the more fresh the empty air felt. I had finally left the Dothraki Sea, the wastelands. But while the smell was fresh, the sight wasn¡¯t light. Slaves, more than I could count, milled about even outside the city walls. They stood with their heads lowered and collars wrapped tight around their necks.


    Human property. A common sight in Essos¡­ Huh, I don¡¯t feel disgusted. I thought I would, given my modern side. But I was surprisingly fine with it. In this world, I was a high-born; what did it matter if slaves died around me?


    The guards spotted me as I approached the gates, their eyes narrowing, hands resting lazily on the hilts of their weapons. They weren¡¯t tense, just bored, for they must have seen a hundred travelers today already. ¡°Calm,¡± I said to my horse and pulled the reins, and my Dany White snorted in response, its exhaustion mirroring mine. After riding for what felt like an eternity, we were both about ready to collapse.


    ¡°You there,¡± one of the guards grunted, stepping forward. His armor was dented and worn, but his eyes were sharp. ¡°State your business.¡±


    I could smell alcohol from his breath even from here. How unprofessional. I swung my leg over and dismounted, my boots kicking up the dust that coated the ground. My hair, now short, barely brushed my collar. I had cut it earlier while resting with the horse¡ªa small change, but one that might keep the wrong people from recognizing me.


    Not that anyone here would care too much about a stray Targaryen, last seen 17 years ago by the public.


    ¡°Just passing through,¡± I said, wiping the sweat from my brow. ¡°How much for entry?¡±


    The second guard chuckled. ¡°Gold coin,¡± he said, extending his hand expectantly. His fingers wiggled in the air as if trying to pluck it straight from my pocket.


    Of course, it¡¯s gold. I fished out a coin from the pouch at my side, tossing it to the guard. He looked it around and bit into it with a grin before waving me through. ¡°Aye, rich man. Welcome to Volantis.¡±


    I ignored them and led my horse inside, walking beside it as we entered the city proper. The streets were busy, thrumming with the noise of traders, merchants and the dull hum of slaves moving about, doing their masters'' bidding. Collars of iron and bronze around their necks marked their status. Some had tattoos branded on their faces¡ªsymbols indicating their role in this twisted system.


    I forgot what the different tattoos mean. I wondered, barely noticing a slave approaching me until he spoke. ¡°Ser, would you like me to take care of your horse?¡± he asked, his voice low, eyes glued to the ground.


    I nodded. ¡°Ah yes, see to it.¡± I gave the permission. There was no need to worry about the horse being stolen. Slaves didn¡¯t have the luxury of making those kinds of mistakes.


    With my horse handed over, I wandered deeper into the city. The air smelled of sweat, sea salt, and roasting meat. Shouts from market stalls filled the streets, mixed with the clanging of metal from nearby smithies.


    Yet, what stood out the most was the sight of so many slaves, their branded faces and beaten-down expressions so common they were part of the scenery.


    As I walked, a man sidled up beside me, rubbing his hands together like he¡¯d just been handed something precious. His eyes gleamed, wearing a vulgar grin. ¡°Looking for something, friend? Maybe a few girls to keep you company? We got the best bed slaves in all of Volantis. Harpies with thighs so soft you¡¯ll forget where you are. Or, if you¡¯re more the working type, we got boys who¡¯ll carry your loads or build you whatever you need. We mark ¡¯em good here.¡± He laughed, slapping the ass of a thick girl standing beside him. She gasped, shooting me a fearful look.


    I glanced at him, and then at the girl. This is bad, I don¡¯t feel disgusted at all. As Viserys, I was 22 years too old to be disgusted by slave whores.


    I almost pondered the offer seriously for a minute.


    He kept talking, painting vivid, vile pictures of what he could offer. ¡°Seems you¡¯re not from here. You see the tattoos? Each one means somethin¡¯. Fish for the docks, hammer for the ones who work steel, fly tattoo indicates dung shovers, and tears for whores. You name it, I can get it.¡± He added, ¡°Got fresh ones. Girls, young, untouched if you know what I mean¡­¡±


    In the end, I shook my head. ¡°Not interested,¡± I muttered. I didn¡¯t feel as disgusted by slavery, but that didn¡¯t mean I¡¯d give in to Viserys¡¯ lust. The man tried to persuade me further, but I excused myself and left him there, continuing toward the heart of the city.


    Whores could go fuck themselves. I needed food. Rest. Anything that¡¯d stop this trembling of my starving, sleep-deprived body.


    After a while, I found a small inn tucked into a corner of the marketplace. It wasn¡¯t grand, but it would do. I didn¡¯t need attention. I stepped inside, the dull hum of conversation filling the air as I found a table near the back.


    Before long, a boy, no older than twelve, scurried over. His clothes were threadbare, and he looked half-starved himself, but his eyes were sharp.


    ¡°Can I get you something, Ser?¡± he asked, his voice cracking slightly.


    ¡°I¡¯m no Ser. Bread, meat, and water,¡± I said, hunger gnawing at my stomach. ¡°Anything fresh will do.¡±


    He nodded and disappeared into the back. When the food arrived, I tore into it like a man starved for months, which wasn¡¯t far from the truth. The bread was stale, the meat chewy, but I didn¡¯t care. The food was mediocre at best, but I ate it all the same. It was the first decent meal I¡¯d had in days. I ate until my stomach hurt.


    When I finally leaned back, sated, I reached into my pouch for another coin. Fuck, I wanna give him all the gold. That was delicious. Mediocre food tasted divine on an empty stomach.


    I got up from the table and walked over to the counter. I should ask about a ship, too. I stopped before the scruffy man at the counter, ¡°How much?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Hm?¡± The man looked at me and shrugged to wave me off. ¡°Nay need, the customer over there already paid for your meal.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± My spine stiffened, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I turned slowly, eyes scanning the room until they landed on a figure in the corner, draped in red. A hood concealed their face, but there was no mistaking the fact that they were watching me. They raised a hand and waved in a slow, deliberate motion.


    I swallowed hard. Have I been found out already? I had cut my hair and hidden myself as best I could. Yet somehow, someone had noticed. And they were sitting across the room, calmly watching me.


    My fingers itched toward the dagger at my side, but I didn¡¯t make a move. We locked into a silent stare-off. The hooded figure stayed silent, and the air around us grew heavier.


    Who the hell was that?


    She lowered her robe slightly and smiled at me. Ah, yes. I blinked, lowering my dagger. A fucking Red Priestess, no wonder. They could recognize me even in hell.


    **


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    Author Note: Rate the story, guys! It''ll help us with the algorithm

 [3] The Warrior of Light?

    Chapter 3: The Warrior of Light?


    ¡ª


    The mood in the restaurant thickened, and for a moment, I just stood there, watching the priestess sitting across the room. She returned my gaze with a calm, unwavering smile, the kind that had no business being on someone¡¯s face when they were about to be killed.


    I slipped my hand to my side, fingers brushing the hilt of my knife as I moved forward, my steps careful and slow.


    The tavern¡¯s dull murmur faded into a low hum. Shadows stretched under the dim candlelight, pouring around the edges of her table where she sat alone, draped in blood-red robes, her face mostly concealed by the hood.


    The crowd around us carried on with their drinks, oblivious or perhaps pretending not to notice. This was Volantis, after all. People knew when not to interfere. As I reached her table, her eyes glinted beneath the shadow of her hood, meeting mine with a confidence that felt too solid and calm. I didn¡¯t like that.


    I settled into the seat beside her, pressing the dagger against her belly. She didn¡¯t flinch; instead, she tilted her head, letting the hood slip back fully to reveal her face in all its bold allure. Her gaze drifted down to the blade as if it were a curious trinket rather than a threat, the barest hint of amusement in her eyes.


    ¡°Oh my,¡± she murmured, her voice as soft as silk and carrying a warmth like that of a heavy blanket. She sounded seductive. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting such an¡­ aggressive greeting.¡± Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I kept my eyes on hers, my grip firm on the dagger. ¡°Then what did you expect after stalking someone who¡¯s gone to all this trouble to hide? People can feel threatened. I hope you won¡¯t be surprised if I kill you right now, priestess.¡±


    Her lips curled into a faint smile. ¡°Much more reason for you not to threaten me back. Or shall I scream your name for all to hear?¡±


    I pressed the blade harder against her, enough that I saw her take a shallow breath. ¡°Much more reason I gut you right here. Right now.¡±


    The woman¡¯s laughter rang out, soft but clear, as she lifted a hand to her mouth, her lips curving into a faint, almost mocking smile. She didn¡¯t seem the least bit unnerved by the knife. Her other hand reached up, slipping the hood back from her face in one smooth movement, revealing her features in full.


    Dark, cascading curls framed her face, spilling over her shoulders with a seductive elegance that softened the sharpness in her gaze. Her skin was pale, almost luminous in the dim light, accentuating high cheekbones and dark, intense eyes that seemed to hold a glint of amusement. The deep red of her gown hugged her figure, rich fabric embroidered with intricate lace that drew the eye down along every curve. A pendant hung low at her neck, resting just above her chest, the dark gemstone glinting like a flame in the shadows.


    Spoiler


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    She was simply¡­ damn.


    I''d be lying if I said she wasn¡¯t beautiful. No, not beautiful. Stunning. She was far more beautiful than what I remembered from the TV show. It was as if the actress had gone through enhancing surgeries. Her eyes sparkled a deep, hypnotic shade that seemed to hold some odd flame. Her smile held a confidence I rarely saw, even in people used to wielding power. Her elegant gaze seemed certain that I wouldn¡¯t dig the knife into her.


    For a moment, I wondered how those eyes would feel looking up at me- Ah, shit. Not the time to start thinking with my dick. Fucking Viserys. Thankfully, I managed to keep my expression strong. I love women, but I really had to control this libido of mine.


    ¡°Perhaps we should take this conversation outside?¡± she asked, her gaze not wavering from mine. Her expression softened as she looked down at the dagger pressed to her stomach and¡­ I pressed it in just a little more until a single bead of blood welled up beneath the blade¡¯s edge. She hissed.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re taking me too lightly,¡± I said. ¡°It might bring you death, priestess.¡± I had to establish the relationship right here. If she was going to pretend to be respectful, I was going to push her to her edge and see if she could maintain that.


    Her smile faltered ever so slightly, and I saw something shift in her eyes. ¡°Prince, trust me. You¡¯ll want to hear what I have to say. I didn¡¯t come here to bring you trouble. Otherwise, you¡¯d be dead by now.¡±


    As if to prove her words, a dozen of the customers turned their gazes at me. It was brief, but I didn¡¯t miss it. I frowned. I was surrounded.


    Kinvara, the Red Priestess of Volantis. I remembered her from the TV Show. The way she¡¯d looked at Daenerys with that same intensity, talking about her great future, about her power and destiny. Did she already have those visions about that girl?


    Was she here to capture me and hand me over?


    However, it was as she had said. If she wanted to kill me or capture me, she had enough people around to be able to do that already. My eyes narrowed. The truth is, even if I do drive this dagger into her throat, I doubt that it¡¯ll do any lasting damage. She didn¡¯t just have the confidence of someone who thought herself untouchable; she had the authority of someone who might actually be so. A Priestess of the ¡®one true god¡¯ as they said.


    I exhaled slowly, drawing back the dagger, though I didn¡¯t put it away entirely. I glanced around the room, catching faint glints from the shadows, still feeling unseen eyes on me. I guess I had no other choice. Whatever she wanted to do with me wasn¡¯t death. At least not an immediate one. And since that was the case, I was confident that I¡¯d manage to find one way or another using the [System] to escape danger.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°Lead the way¡­ High-Priestess Kinvana.¡±


    Her eyes trembled slightly seeing me refer to her by her title and name. It was not as if it was a secret, but regardless, most people didn¡¯t know her name. It was the case with most High-Priestesses. People referred to them by their titles instead. So she stared at me for a brief moment before smiling.


    ¡°I shall do that,¡± the priestess rose gracefully, her gaze lingering on me as she adjusted her robes, covering the small spot of blood left from the knife. Her wound healed, the blood vanishing. She smiled up at me when she saw me staring at the scene that¡¯d have been considered a miracle in the modern world.


    She turned toward the door, casting one last glance over her shoulder before slipping into the crowd. I followed, keeping close, my hand never far from my dagger.


    ****


    The streets of Volantis stretched and writhed around us like the veins of some ancient beast, pulsing with life and decay. Stalls lined the cramped alleyways, vendors shouting out the prices of spices, dried fish, and half-rotten fruit, while slaves shuffled past in chains, their eyes hollow.


    I didn¡¯t like this place. No, I hated it. It smelled like trash here.


    It was a thick smell¡ªfilled with sweat, salt, smoke, and something else, something bitter and metallic that made me want to gag. Around us, the noise was loud and relentless, but she glided through it, untouched, like the chaos existed only for everyone else.


    I kept my gaze on her, my grip tight on the hilt at my side. ¡°What exactly do you want to talk about?¡± I muttered, just loud enough to reach her over the noise. Every nerve in my body was on edge, wary of eyes in the crowd, ears too close, and whispers that might carry my name. I really wanted to leave Essos as soon as possible.


    Also, I should do something about this hair. Blonde stood out.


    She shot me a sideways look, lips curled in that maddening smile. ¡°Oh, be patient, Prince. Do you really want to discuss such¡­ sensitive matters here, in front of everyone?¡±


    I stopped cold, letting a few shifty-eyed passersby bump into me with muttered curses. The Red Priestess stopped as well, turning to face me with that look that I had come to find annoying. Calm, condescending like I was an overeager child. ¡°Prince? What¡¯s the matter?¡±


    I narrowed my eyes, clenching my jaws and showing her my irritation. ¡°I¡¯m not about to follow some suspicious bitch to a secret meeting place. So either say what you have to say or leave.¡±


    Was I being too paranoid? Too annoying and immature? Maybe. Since I was already surrounded by her people hidden in the crowd, it might have been pointless to complain. But still. I didn¡¯t feel like giving her whatever she wanted without resisting.


    Her smile widened, a flash of teeth against red lips. ¡°Heh¡­ Quite a foul mouth for royal blood,¡± she said, the words dripping with amusement. ¡°I don¡¯t wish you harm, Prince. In truth, despite my subtle threat at the inn. None of those men can hurt you, neither can I, even if I wanted to¡ªnot when you¡¯ve already defied death once.¡±


    Silence. The crowd continued to push around us, but her words hung in the air, making everything else feel muted and distant.


    ¡°...What are you talking about?¡± My voice was low, steady. Testing.


    Her gaze softened like she was peering into me, past me, into something I wasn¡¯t even aware of. ¡°Ah, yes. It makes sense that you wouldn¡¯t know, would you? People are rarely aware of their coming death,¡± she murmured like she was speaking to herself more than to me. ¡°The day you escaped the Dothraki¡­ that was the day you were supposed to die. That was your fate.¡± She moved closer, slowly, her hand reaching out until her fingers rested against my chest. They lingered there, cold and deliberate, like she was marking something only she could see.


    I stayed still, barely breathing, as her hand slid down. Her fingers were soft, her touch felt both too intimate and too calculated. ¡°Fate,¡± she whispered, her voice barely louder than the hum of the crowd. ¡°The will of god. And yet, despite the order of things, you survived. You did not defy death; rather, the one True God simply¡­ changed his mind about taking your life. For reasons only He knows.¡± Her fingers pressed slightly against my chest. ¡°So, when you came to Volantis¡ªof all places¡ªI took it as a sign. That R''hllor has chosen me to guide you. To help you achieve whatever goals you hold close to your heart. Because¡­¡± Her voice softened, carrying a reverence that sent a chill down my spine. ¡°I think you¡¯re him. The chosen.¡±


    A moment of silence stretched between us. I forced my voice to remain steady. ¡°Who?¡±


    Her lips curved, and she leaned in, her breath brushing against my ear. ¡°The Warrior of Light,¡± she whispered, her words laced with a worshipful kind of madness. ¡°My hero.¡±


    Her hand left my chest, and she pulled back, her gaze never wavering, locking onto mine with a look that could have been mistaken for love¡ªif love was ever that intense, that consuming. ¡°Or perhaps you¡¯d prefer ¡®my king¡¯ more suitable?¡± She lingered for a second more, smiling, and then, without another word, turned away.


    Her steps were now slow and deliberate, the sway of her hips seductively calculated.


    I watched her fade into the crowd, her red robes blending with the chaos of the market until she was nothing more than a smudge of crimson. The Warrior of Light. The hero.


    Somehow, I managed to hold back my laughter.


    She thought I was some kind of chosen one, some mythical figure her god had anointed. What a fool. But a useful tool if I played this right. If this woman wanted to make herself a willing tool, who was I to correct her?


    I could use a practitioner of Blood Magic more than ever right now. After all, I had something very precious that I wanted to awaken.


    Magic. To rejuvenate the world itself.


    **


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 [4] A Laughable Plan—Or Is it?

    Chapter 4: A Laughable Plan¡ªOr Is it?


    ¡ª


    The mansion was a sprawling fortress of luxury, hidden deep within the Black Walls of Volantis. The Black Walls¡ªancient, dark stone fused by Valyrian fire¡ªrose high above the city, separating the Old Blood from the masses below.


    Only the oldest, most powerful families, those whose blood traces back to the ancient and powerful Valyrian Freehold, were permitted to live within its protective confines. Outside, Volantis sprawled in chaos and commerce, but inside these walls, order and supremacy reigned.


    I followed her up winding marble staircases through halls lined with tapestries depicting fire and light until we arrived at a grand structure that dwarfed the rest of the mansions around it. Of course, the Church of Light is rich, I thought as we climbed, staring up at her swaying hips, hidden by robes flowing around her like rivers of blood.


    We were at the Red Temple. The heart of R¡¯hllor¡¯s influence in Volantis, its crimson spires rose high above the Black Walls, casting a shadow over the district as if declaring that the Lord of Light¡¯s reach extended over all. It was no surprise that the temple was opulent.


    ¡°Here,¡± after a bit of walking through a hallway, we stopped before a door. She pushed it open and nudged me with a chin. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    ¡°Very suspicious,¡± I said, but it was too late. She smiled and turned on her hill while I walked inside. The room was luxurious. Rich, crimson tapestries adorned the walls, embroidered with swirling flames and intricate symbols of R¡¯hllor.


    A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, a golden frame glinting in the candlelight that filled the space with a warm, almost hypnotic glow. Plush cushions and velvet drapes covered low, ornate couches scattered around, and a table inlaid with red gemstones gleamed in the center of the room, holding bowls of exotic fruits and wine.


    Indeed, the Red God¡¯s faithful enjoyed power and wealth, and as the High Priestess, she stood at the center of it. No wonder she acted so confident as if she was untouchable. I could use her. She had the potential to bring me much.


    I looked at the large, high window facing the city. I walked toward it and glanced outside, catching a glimpse of the city spilling out below the walls, all the way to the Summer Sea. The fresh salt air swept in, filling my lungs as I watched the ocean that I¡¯d have to cross soon. It was strange and refreshing¡­ to be this high up, looking out over the world as if it were mine for the taking.


    I wouldn¡¯t lie. I felt a little greedy.


    Soon, the door creaked open behind me, and I turned. She entered, a silver tray in her hands piled high with gleaming fruits. With her usual calm, she crossed the room and presented the tray to me as if it were some kind of peace offering. ¡°Here.¡±


    I looked down at the fruit, then up at her, meeting her gaze with a flat expression.


    She let out a soft laugh, setting the tray down on a nearby table and picking up a slice of apple. She bit into it, eyes still locked on mine, savoring each bite. ¡°You really think I will poison you?¡± she said, her voice laced with amusement. ¡°Hard to believe you still don¡¯t trust me, Prince.¡±


    I kept my expression cold. ¡°We haven¡¯t done anything to establish trust yet, Priestess.¡±


    Her lips curved into a teasing smile. She stepped closer, pressing her body into mine until her chest was flush against me, her hand trailing up to rest on my shoulder. ¡°Mhm. Would you like to, then?¡± Her voice was low and sultry, her gaze laced with a dark glint of seduction. ¡°Do something to establish trust, I mean¡­¡±


    I clenched my jaw, staying still. The temptation was there, Viserys¡¯ lust wanting to surface, but I could hold it in. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect a Red Priestess to act like a bed slave,¡± I said, my tone sharp.


    She laughed, tilting her head back, her breath warm against my skin. ¡°I find it amusing how free you are with your words, even when they¡¯re directed at a High Priestess.¡± Her fingers traced a line along my jaw. ¡°If a true believer heard you say that, they might die from the shock alone. Perhaps after gutting you with a knife.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not a believer,¡± I shot back, my gaze never wavering. And then I couldn¡¯t hold back any longer¡ªmy hand slid around her waist, pulling her close as she gasped softly, her eyes widening. ¡°And if I recall right, you called me your ¡®king,¡¯ didn¡¯t you? You should be fine with whatever I call you, bed slave or whatnot.¡±


    For a moment, her expression was unreadable, her eyes searching mine as if looking for something deeper, something hidden. But then she smiled, her voice soft as silk. ¡°Ah yes. Of course,¡± she said, ¡°You¡¯re really different from what the rumors say.¡±


    I released her, turning away to look out at the city again, needing a moment to pull myself back from the edge.


    I could feel her gaze on me, but I ignored it, focusing instead on the sprawling view beyond the walls. ¡°I need a ship,¡± I said, breaking the silence. ¡°I have to return to Westeros.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re worried about the Dothraki finding you, rest assured.¡± Her voice was calm and reassuring as if she already had everything planned. ¡°They won¡¯t hear a word of your presence here. They¡¯ll never know where you are.¡±


    I gave a skeptical snort, glancing over my shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m aware of you red priestess¡¯ powers, but still, you can¡¯t guarantee that. But fine. If you can help me keep my presence hidden for a few days, that¡¯ll do.¡± I turned fully to face her, locking eyes with her again. ¡°I need your help to accomplish something in the next few days. After that, I¡¯ll leave for Westeros. Do you understand?¡±


    She stared at me, her gaze unwavering, before a slow smile spread across her face. ¡°What is it, my king?¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, I called up the System, muttering Inventory in my mind. A faint hologram appeared in the corner of my vision, a grid of small boxes filling the screen, only one of which was occupied. I slipped a hand into the bag hanging from my side, pretending to reach for something there, and grasped the object in the inventory with my mind.


    A moment later, the dragon egg appeared in my hand, its surface gleaming with red and black hues.


    Her eyes widened slightly, surprise flashing across her face as I held the egg up between us.


    ¡°A life for a life,¡± I said, watching her reaction carefully. ¡°I, the last drop of dragon blood on this earth, intend to awaken the real dragons, to bring them back for the first time in a hundred and half years. And your blood magic will help me do it. You understand?¡±


    For a heartbeat, she was silent, her gaze fixed on the dragon egg as though it were a relic of her god himself. Her lips parted, and a faint shiver ran through her. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face, one that grew into a wide, fervent grin.


    She looked up at me, her eyes shining with reverence. ¡°...Azor Ahai.¡±


    The thrill of manipulation tingled through me. Let her think I was the hero of prophecy. Let her think I was a god¡¯s chosen. I¡¯d use her power, her belief, her devotion to achieve my ends. And if she ended up benefiting from that too? Well, you¡¯re welcome.


    ****


    Kinvara had been a high priestess for more than a lifetime, long enough to watch faith bend and break men while she remained untouched.


    The Lord of Light had shown her visions, and she¡¯d seen miracles burn to life in her hands. The faith of this religion held no mysteries from her, only truth, and she knew power. Real power. Naturally, only the one True God was truly powerful, but some men showed similar greatness as well.


    True power left marks in a person¡¯s soul, the kind that no robe, no pretense could mask. It made them appear strong, brave, and uncaring of death.


    She had met kings, commanders, and men with blood who claimed to match the dragons in their intensity, and she¡¯d seen through them all. Some spoke the truth, but many wore masks of strength and held nothing of substance underneath. They were just men too afraid to face the emptiness inside. And according to the rumors she heard, according to what the flames had shown her, Viserys Targaryen was no different¡ªa shadow of his bloodline, clinging to something he could barely comprehend.


    So she expected a coward. She expected weakness cloaked in arrogance when she decided to meet him. But when she did meet him at the inn? It was a different story.


    There had been something opposite in his eyes, the sharp edge to his words, that mind that didn¡¯t waver in the face of threats, daring to wield a knife, not out of stupidity, but braveness against her. Perhaps he had once been that weak prince that the rumors spoke of, but he wasn¡¯t anymore. The incident of overcoming his death and his fate must have changed him.


    She¡¯d seen that change before, usually forged across years of hard battle, but he had earned it overnight. A cautious, dangerous man. It was something she¡¯d been trained to recognize, a potential. Kinvara hoped her experienced senses weren¡¯t wrong.


    Because Melisandre, that bitch, had apparently found the Warrior of Light. And Kinvara wasn¡¯t going to let that wench overshine her another time. She was hoping Viserys was the true warrior, and if he wasn¡¯t, she¡¯d shape him to be. Then, the two of them will receive the blessing of the one True God together¡­


    The whole week, a smirk stayed in her thoughts as she searched and prepared for what he¡¯d demanded.


    Awakening dragon eggs? She nearly laughed when he first proposed it, her instinct was to dismiss him, but she held back. Do you think the Targaryens wouldn¡¯t have done it before, if it were possible? Contrary to people¡¯s belief, the Targaryens were mad enough to try anything, such as blood magic, and¡­ indeed, they had already done so many times in the last three hundred years.


    And yet, the dragons had not returned.


    If his entire family failed for three hundred years, how could he succeed?


    Kindara was curious to see. So she didn¡¯t question him, nor did she voice her doubt. The flicker of something real in his eyes kept her silent. So, then¡­ Let¡¯s see the worth behind your words. For he was a mystery worth her time, for now.


    ¡­..


    They were riding together now, their horses pushing forward through deadened lands twisted by smoke and darkness. The air grew thicker the nearer they came to the City of Mantarys, the edge of the Valyrian Freehold in the distance, a decayed remnant of what had once been the heart of the empire.


    The land bore history¡ªthe mark of corruption, a stain that seemed to stretch forever. S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°How are you holding up, Prince?¡± Kinvara asked, breaking the silence that had been settling between them for too long. She kept her gaze forward, but she could feel him beside her, hear the hooves of his horse before he even spoke.


    ¡°The stench is bothersome,¡± he muttered, hand briefly at his nose. ¡°But I¡¯m managing.¡± He patted his horse¡ªa white beast, elegant and striking. She looked at the horse briefly.


    He¡¯d named it "Dany White," of all things, a strange choice given his sister¡¯s nickname was Dany. Was this his idea of humiliating the Khaleesi? Or was this his way of showing affection? Kinvara couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°The stench is the least of our worries here, near Mantarys,¡± she replied, looking out at the twisted horizon ahead as if the city itself were bending and shifting in the shadows.


    He only raised an eyebrow, casting her a look of skepticism. ¡°What could possibly be worse?¡±


    She almost laughed. ¡°Mantarys is no ordinary city, Prince,¡± she replied smoothly. ¡°It lies to the southeast of Volantis, at the very edge of the Smoking Sea. The Doom of Valyria left its deepest scars here. The land around it has been poisoned by old sorceries, dark magic lingering long after Valyria fell.¡±


    He glanced over, half amused. ¡°Speaking of magic. I¡¯m curious since people always said Targaryens had it in their blood. Are there other forms to it other than blood magic? Maybe I can learn them.¡±


    Sometimes¡ªshe¡¯d realized this the past week they¡¯d been traveling¡ªshe couldn¡¯t be sure if he was truly curious about something or just asking her to seem stupid. Regardless, she answered in her usual tone.


    ¡°To be fair, the claim of magic in Targaryen blood remains to be proven,¡± she replied, though she knew it used to be true back in the day. ¡°But the people of Mantarys are¡­ different. They are deformations. Monsters, some would say. Some say they bear the mark of the Doom in their very flesh.¡±


    He snorted. ¡°Sounds like a nursery tale.¡±


    Again. He seemed to be lying. Her unmatched experience in human nature told her that he was lying. That he indeed believed her. But why was he lying then? Sometimes, he showed her less than what he was for some reason.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± she said, shrugging. ¡°But Mantarys has a sinister reputation across the land. It¡¯s known that horrific deformities are common among its people¡ªmutations, twisted limbs, strange growths. It could be the lingering effects of the Doom, or perhaps just the result of old sorcery gone wrong.¡± She shot him a glance. ¡°Either way, travelers avoid Mantarys whenever they can. That¡¯s why we¡¯re doing the same, despite the high number of witches we can find there.¡±


    ¡°Good thing I¡¯m not one to be frightened by ghost stories. Besides,¡± he added, his smirk widening, ¡°I¡¯ve got R¡¯hllor¡¯s favorite priestess by my side. Shouldn¡¯t that count for something? I think they¡¯ll be scared by you.¡±


    She laughed at the comment, the faintest smile on her lips as her eyes drifted to the road ahead. At least he¡¯s growing more relaxed around me. ¡°I think they¡¯ll be more scared of you instead. You¡¯re building muscles from those exercises you¡¯ve been doing all the time that you¡¯re not riding the horse,¡± she said.


    ¡°I hope so,¡± he replied, his gaze focused ahead. ¡°That is¡­¡± Just a short distance away, she could see the faint outline of a village, barely discernible through the haze.


    ¡°That¡¯s the place I told you about,¡± she said. Smoke curled from the tops of low buildings, filling the air with the acrid scent of charred wood and dust.


    They slowed as they approached, drawing the attention of villagers who peered at them with wary eyes. Huts rose, and kids hid behind them. Everyone¡¯s gazes lingered on Kinvara''s red robes, and one by one, they murmured among themselves, some bowing, others nodding with reverence.


    The awe in their expressions was expected. That was the influence she wielded in Essos.


    Kinvara dismounted, letting her gaze sweep over the gathered faces, seeking the one she had come for. ¡°Yarra Vesh Duul,¡± she called, and there a woman stood just at the edge of the crowd, her face marked by age and hardship. The woman blinked, looking around to make sure it was her name that was called. Her clothes were ragged, the lines of fatigue etched deeply into her features.


    ¡°M-me, m¡¯lady?¡± The Maegi asked, and Kinvara nodded.


    ¡°Yes, you. Come, Prince,¡± She turned to Viserys and murmured, who too dismounted from his horse. He approached the woman, who eyed the two of them with a mix of awe and fear.


    A moment later the old woman dipped her head low, hands clasped tightly together as she stepped forward, her body trembling as she came before Kinvara. Her hair was a mess of tangles streaked with gray, and her hands were rough, calloused from years of hard labor.


    ¡°...She¡¯ll do,¡± Viserys said, his eyes examining her. Kinvara wondered what someone who knew nothing of Blood Magic could see. Regardless, the decision was not hers to make.


    Her gaze softened just enough to appear kind as she spoke. ¡°The great Lord of Light has chosen you,¡± Kinvara intoned. ¡°The Lord has a purpose for you¡ªa deed that will bring you closer to his eternal flame.¡± Her words were flowery, but her tone did not present it as an offer. It left no room for refusal. ¡°Say your goodbyes and prepare to leave with us.¡±


    The woman¡¯s gaze darted to the side, her eyes meeting those of her children, a few grandchildren standing timidly behind them. She swallowed and hesitated.


    Kinvara understands her hesitation, the ache of someone bound by earthly ties. It is a look she has seen countless times before. Go ahead, look all you want, she sighed, thinking with detached patience. But when the gods call, no mortal bonds can keep you.


    She knew the woman would come. Despite her fear, despite the hollow in her eyes as she met her children¡¯s gaze one last time, the call of faith would be stronger. It always was.


    And, indeed. Without a word of protest, she gathered her things and joined them, as Kinvara knew she would.


    The materials for the Dragon Awakening Ritual were ready.


    Spoiler


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    Author Note: No way, someone rated 2 stars! Need some good ratings guys, we''re running low on it. Not related to this, but I might soon post another chapter in two hours or so. I''ll appreciate some ratings to help the algorithm!!!

 [5] Waking the Dragon

    Chapter 5: Waking the Dragon


    ¡ª


    We rode in silence. The only sound that accompanied us was the rhythmic drumming of hooves against the cracked, unforgiving soil of old Valyria.


    The air was heavy with the stench of decay, a sour tang that clung to the back of my throat and refused to let go. It was annoying. It seemed as if this land had forgotten what life felt like, choosing instead to stew in its own rot and misery.


    Mantarys was a city known for its corruption and twisted tales of horror, where the Doom of Valyria danced in the breath of wind. We weren''t heading toward the city. We were simply passing by it, closer than earlier, and yet, the dread in the air was pressing down like a suffocating blanket.


    Kinvara rode beside me, her crimson robes fluttering gently, contrasting with the ashen landscape. We made small talk as we walked. The old witch, Yarra Vesh Duul, rode just beyond her, muttering quiet prayers to gods I didn¡¯t care to know.


    My mind spun with thoughts of the ritual to come. It wasn¡¯t fear that stirred within me but anticipation. I was impatient. After all, this incident, if successful, would create history.


    [Quest: Waking the Dragon.]


    The awakening of a dragon. The system pushed me towards it. After all, what was the point of a Dragon System without a Dragon?


    Still, it was a dangerous quest. If I succeeded, I would claim power that had been dead for centuries. But failure? It would turn me into ash.


    So I guess I was kind of nervous too.


    My fingers flexed around the reins, eyes narrowing at the thought. The Targaryen family line. Fire and blood. That was how a dragon could be awakened. They''ve tried to do that before, many times so, and failed regardless. I didn''t plan to fail.


    The ritual wanted blood. My blood. If the preparation wasn''t perfect, I could die.  sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The idea sent a shiver up my spine, an odd mix of exhilaration and dread. Was I ready to endure the flames to prove that the dragon blood in my veins was not false? ¡­A thin smile tugged at my lips. Of course, I was ready.


    What was life without the risk of losing it?


    ¡°Prince?¡±


    A laugh broke through my thoughts. The guttural noise cut through the call of Kinvana, who looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I glanced up to see her, and she nudged her chin forward.


    ¡°We have company,¡± she said. ¡°Stone men.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± I glanced ahead and frowned. I saw deformed men slinking out from the shadows between jagged rocks, their twisted figures glistening with sweat and grime. All of their skin, a large part of it not all, were turned to stone. That wasn''t the only thing mutated about them.


    They didn''t look like normal people. Population of Mantarys, I believe. Bandits. Some had limbs that bent the wrong way, eyes that bulged too far out of their sockets, or ears where no ear should ever be. Mantarys¡¯ famed mutations were not just stories told to frighten children, it seemed.


    The person leading them, a man with a third eye perched grotesquely on his cheekbone, grinned, showing a mouth full of broken teeth. It was gross. Half the skin in his body had turned to stone.


    ¡°Oh, ho, good lord,¡± he said, his gaze leering at Kinvara with hunger. ¡°A red priestess. Haven¡¯t had one of your kind in some time.¡±


    ¡°But boss, it¡¯s a red priestess...¡± one of the bandits muttered, a glimmer of doubt on his face.


    The leader spat, a thick glob that landed near his feet. ¡°Oh, you newbie. So what if she''s a red priestess? She got a cunt just like any other woman,¡± he barked, and a chorus of laughter followed. It was an ugly and eager sound.


    I shook my head, my face still, though my muscles tightened with barely contained disdain. ¡°I was wondering how people in Mantarys survived without trade or merchants,¡± I said, raising my voice enough for Kinvara to hear over the laughter. My gaze never left the approaching figures.


    ¡°Well, this is how,¡± Kinvara replied, a sigh threading her words. ¡°Plundering and robbing travelers.¡±


    Beside us, the old witch¡¯s muttering grew louder, prayers turning feverish as the bandits encircled us. Fourteen. I counted quickly, my eyes flicking from one twisted face to another.


    They outnumbered us, and they were confident, circling their prey with the arrogance of men who¡¯d done this many times before. ¡°Dismount from your horses!¡± the leader shouted, wielding a rusted sword. The others mimicked him, grins full of yellow teeth and broken promises.


    I glanced at Kinvara, and she looked back. We exchanged silent glances. We slid off our horses, boots meeting the ground with a thud. The bandits jeered, yanking our horses away and closing in on us, their stench seeping into the air like a disease.


    Gross bastards.


    ¡°Should we kill the man, boss?¡± one of the lackeys asked, his voice too high-pitched and eager.


    The leader shook his head, chuckling. ¡°Nah. He got a pretty face. Some pig in the slave cities will pay good coin for him.¡±


    The laughter that followed pushed me to the edge of my ever-growing annoyance. They''re dead already.


    I scoffed, turning to Kinvana as I spoke out loud. ¡°Can you start the ritual now, if I make fire?¡± I asked her, turning my eyes to the men as they exchanged confused glances.


    Kinvara blinked, confusion and surprise flickering across her face before she nodded. ¡°Yes,¡± she whispered.


    I turned my attention back to the bandits, a smile forming. ¡°Do any of you know blood magic?¡± I asked.


    They stared, confusion warping their faces before one broke into a hoarse laugh. ¡°Hah, this dumb motherfucker thinks we¡¯re wizards!¡± another hooted. ¡°We won''t be raping people like you if we were!¡±


    ¡°Pity,¡± I muttered and slipped a hand into my pocket. The leader snapped to attention, raising his weapon.


    ¡°Hands out, or I¡¯ll cut them off!¡± he snarled, swinging his blade.


    I obliged, slowly lifting my hand, palm open. I guess I had no other choice. I wanted to keep it a secret from Kinvana for a bit longer, but whatever.


    One moment my palm was empty, and then a glass filled with strange liquid shimmered into existence, cool and weighty in my grasp. The sudden appearance caught their laughter and died in their throats. Before they could react, I tossed the liquid onto the leader. He flinched back, some of the liquid splattering across his face and chest.


    His brows furrowed, confusion turning to rage. ¡°What was that, you¡ª¡±


    A burning torch appeared in my hand next, summoned from my Inventory as if I¡¯d always carried it in my hand. ¡°It is called Naphtha,¡± I said as I threw the fire at him, the flames roaring to life. He tried to shout, but the flames consumed him and leaped to the men closest to him.


    Their screams shredded the silence, a song of agony as fire crawled over them, skin blistering and blackening.


    ¡°Now,¡± I snapped at Kinvara.


    ¡°How?!¡± She looked momentarily stunned at what I had done. Even she couldn''t bring things out of thin air. Yet she managed to move her hands through her surprise, making gestures with the practiced precision of a sorceress. Her hands weaved the flames outward and guided them into the throng of bandits, who shrieked and fell like burning dolls.


    The smell of charred flesh thickened the air.


    ¡°Y-you bastards!¡± One man who was untouched by the flames rushed at me with a roar, eyes wide and white with fury.


    ¡°Fool,¡± I said. He should have known that I might have more in my space. I kept a lot of things in my inventory, things I had asked Kinvara to provide me before we left Volantis.


    A spear formed in my hand¡ªa better choice than a sword for a newbie such as myself. I thrust it forward, steel meeting resistance as it plunged through his chest.


    It wasn¡¯t very smooth, but it did its work. His charge faltered, breath rattling out as blood trickled from his gaping mouth.


    I pulled the spear free, and he collapsed, lifeless.


    [You¡¯ve killed a Stone Man.]


    [You¡¯ve earned experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve leveled up!]


    [You¡¯ve reached Level 6!]


    ¡°Oh,¡± I whispered, the notification catching me off guard.


    That was my¡­ first kill in this world. I had gained three levels in the last week, working out with my body weight every chance I got, which basically meant every minute I wasn¡¯t riding the horse. All that hard work, and I had only gained three levels.


    But now?


    I killed a man and gained a level in a second. A tremor of power ran through me. The System rewarded me for killing¡­


    The rest of the bandits writhed, still engulfed by flames, their screams reaching a fever pitch. I frowned. It was unclear if I¡¯d get Experience Points from their deaths as they were burning in the fire of ritual, spread by Kinvana, even if it was me who started the fire first. The urge to finish them off surged through me.


    A disgusting scent of burning flesh filled the air, mixing with heat. I could feel the flames pressing in, ready to consume everything, including me. I decided and then moved quickly, spear stabbing down into faces and hearts, silencing each scream with a conclusiveness that resonated in my chest.


    The notifications from the System blurred my vision, rapid-fire confirmations of each kill and experience points.


    [You''ve killed a Stone Man.]


    [You''ve earned experience points.]


    [You''ve killed a Stone Man.]


    [You''ve earned experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve leveled up!]


    [You''ve killed a Stone Man.]


    [You''ve earned experience points.]


    [You''ve killed a Stone Man.]


    [You''ve earned experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve leveled up!]


    [You''ve...]


    ¡­


    [You¡¯ve leveled up!]


    [You¡¯ve reached Level 9!]


    ¡°Prince! Let¡¯s step out of that place!¡± Kinvara¡¯s sharp and frantic voice cut through the inferno. She stood at the edge of the flames, her face flushed from the heat, her eyes filled with urgency. ¡°It''s dangerous!¡±


    I looked at her, the world around me reduced to the roar of flames and the thrum of blood in my ears.


    I wondered for a moment and then pulled something from the system. A hovering hologram in the corner of my vision gleamed with an ethereal blue light.


    ===


    Quest: Waking the Dragon


    Objective: Awaken the dormant dragon egg and restore the legacy of House Targaryen by bringing a true dragon into the world.


    Details: You, Viserys Targaryen, have embarked on a quest that few would dare to dream of. To awaken the dragon egg in his possession, you must perform a ritual of fire and blood magic, a process steeped in ancient Valyrian tradition and arcane knowledge. This ritual is perilous, requiring precision, sacrifice, and the true fire of the old gods.


    Ritual Site: Conducted in a sacred or ancient power-infused place.


    Blood Glyphs: Drawn around the pyre using blood to channel magic.Blood Sacrifice: A soul of great quality, or of many quantities, must be offered, willing or bound by fate. Additionally, a blood witch has to be offered.Chanting: The blood witch who¡¯s being sacrificed must chant and guide the magic. If not, a second blood mage can chant from outside.Pyre Ignition: Egg placed at the center, surrounded by sacred flames.Flame Endurance: You, Viserys, must step into the fire to prove your worth as the dragon. Embrace the egg, endure the fire, and sacrifice a number of your Levels to bring it to life.


    Rewards:


    Dragon Hatchling: A creature of unmatched power and influence who¡¯ll see you as its parent.Title ¨C The Dragon King: Enhances reputation and fire resistance. ???. ???Stat Boost: Level Ups! +5 END, +3 STR. [NEW!] +10 Authority.


    Penalties for Failure:


    Injury/Death: Severe burns or death.Loss of the Egg: Irreplaceable loss.Broken Alliance: Loss of Kinvara¡¯s support.Title ¨C False Heir: Damaged reputation, harder to gain allies.


    ===


    I took a deep breath, my pulse hammering like a war drum.


    ¡°No,¡± I replied, leaving her staring at me with wide, disbelieving eyes.


    ¡°Prince! This is madness!¡± Her voice wavered, split between urgency and something else. Worry? No, I told myself. High Priestesses didn''t worry¡ªthey plotted.


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    ¡°Yes! Targaryens are not immune to flames! This isn¡¯t a story, and you¡¯re not¡ª¡±


    ¡°Trust me.¡± The grin that stretched my lips felt foreign, forced even, but I needed her to believe it.


    The flames that burned around me hurt me. I felt the heat, but it stopped hurting when the ritual began. I could tell. If this didn¡¯t work, I¡¯d be nothing but a charred corpse and a forgotten fool.


    The author of the franchise once stated that Daenerys Targaryen''s survival of the ritual fire was a one-time incident. It was because it was a ritual that she didn''t get hurt. Unlike what she came to believe, she wasn''t immune to flames.


    My death to the molten gold also didn''t mean I lacked dragon blood. I could do the exact thing she did as long as the ritual proceeded. The flames were here, so the ritual could indeed proceed. I just had to endure for a while.


    I looked at her, her worried face flashing from behind the dancing flames. She could stop the flames if she tried. From the looks of it, she was just about to.


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± I stopped her. ¡°If I die here, then I¡¯m no more than a fool who pretended to be a king. Not the Warrior of Light, not anything worth remembering for you, no?¡±


    The silence that followed was heavy, and I saw her mouth press into a tight line. Good. Doubt made people easier. I nodded toward the first body, the bandit whose eyes were still frozen in that moment of disbelief. ¡°Use that one. Fresh blood. Draw the glyphs.¡±


    For a heartbeat, Kinvara stared at me, eyes unreadable, before her gaze hardened, becoming sharper and colder. Her fingers twitched, and with a practiced motion, she opened her hand and then closed it into a fist.


    The body convulsed, a grotesque shudder, before the skin split open, and blood surged out, painting the ground in curving intricate strokes. It spread like a living map, forming symbols that seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat.


    I brought the Dragon Egg out of my inventory. It thrummed in my hands.


    ¡°O-ohh my!¡± The old witch gasped. She had been staring at me in stunned silence from the moment I took out the glass and the spear out of thin air. She was trembling. Her eyes were wide, trembling as though she were on the edge of a vision.


    She seemed to have reached a realization of her own.


    ¡°Go inside,¡± Kinvara pushed her gently. ¡°Ahor Ahai is waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°Azor¡­ Azor Ahai...¡± she breathed, and I saw awe twisting her lined face into something grotesque. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.


    She walked into the flame, her skin churning off as she walked closer to me. The flames roared around us, fed by the dead, reaching higher as though trying to touch the sky. Heat wrapped itself around my body like a lover with sharp teeth.


    I gripped the egg tighter, feeling its cool, solid weight. It was the last relic of a lineage too proud to stay buried. I stepped closer to the inferno, my boots scraping against the blood-slick ground.


    The flames concentrated around me while the witch touched her forehead on the ground. She started to chant. Kinvara''s gaze flickered between me and the fire, her mouth opening as if to speak, but she said nothing. Good.


    Words wouldn¡¯t change anything now.


    The heat stole my breath, pain flowering across my skin as I settled cross-legged on the ground, the egg cradled in my arms. I closed my eyes, the witch''s chanting weaving through the crackling of flames, the edges of my mind fraying with each second.


    Every nerve screamed, and my teeth ground together, a snarl tearing itself free as the fire wrapped around me. But somewhere in that agony, where the edges of life and death met, the egg in my arms throbbed, warm, hungry, and alive.


    Minutes or hours, I couldn¡¯t tell how long passed. The flames obscured the sky, I couldn¡¯t even tell if the sun had set or not.


    My focus was all here as the System flashed notifications before me.


    [The Dragon Egg is asking for food.]


    [Would you like to feed it 5 Levels?]


    [Yes - No]


    The choice was simple. The fire burned brighter, and Kinvara¡¯s chanting grew louder outside. Something cracked. Until¡ª


    ¡°Kreach! Kreach!¡±


    A sharp cry pierced the fire, something small and fierce.


    Warmth brushed my cheek, different from the searing pain. It was a rough tongue that licked at my skin, pulling me back from the abyss. My eyes cracked open to see two bright, wild eyes staring back at me as a winged golden lizard croaked on my arms.


    The flames died out slowly as the sun rose in the morning sky. Kinvara walked over, eyes wide and trembling, while a crazy grin quivered on her lips. She muttered a curse, followed by a gasp of moan. ¡°Oh, my god. It¡¯s a Dragon. ¡±


    It was. I had awakened it. A golden little thing¡­ A Gold Dragon with separate arms and wings. Viserion, the dragon who''d become the strongest. The most powerful.


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: I hope you like the story so far. I was wondering which dragon to choose among the three. I was urged to go with Drogon, but in the end, I chose Viserion to allow Daenerys to keep some personal power. Plus Viserion was the dragon that was named after Viserys, it''s only natural that it should be the egg he stole.


    Question: Future dragon-girl or nah? Do we just keep it as a pet?


    Additionally, I have a Discord to come and hang out with me and 6,000 more members. I also have a Patreon for those interested in supporting me and/or wanting to read chapters before public releases. Of course, Patreon is merely a donation service for me, so chapters will ALWAYS be coming here for free as usual, so NEVER worry about that. I think I¡¯ll be going with a 5-chapters/weekly update. Happy reading!


    Links:


    Patreon: Patreon.com/Master4thWall


    Discord: .gg/dQeu27jBvf

 [6] Future Plans and the Solution to Viserys Problem

    Chapter 6: Future Plans and the Solution to Viserys Problem


    ¡ª


    The steam rose lazily around me, curling into the vaulted ceiling, where it dissipated like ghosts. The bathwater was heated just shy of scorching, soaking into my muscles, pulling out aches I hadn¡¯t realized were there. My eyes fell to the tiny, gold-scaled creature perched on my chest. Viserion, my dragon, snapped her jaws playfully, emitting a high-pitched screech that echoed through the chamber.


    I smirked and reached into the air beside me. The empty space rippled as my fingers closed around a chunk of cured meat drawn from the invisible folds of my Inventory.


    ¡°Here,¡± I said, offering the meat to her. She sniffed it, eyes narrowing for a heartbeat before she lunged, tearing into it with sharp, eager bites. ¡°She¡¯s so adorable,¡± I said to myself. I didn¡¯t know how genders worked for dragons of this world, and this creature didn¡¯t have any obvious trait that confirmed its gender. But I knew she-dragons were a thing. Dragons that lay eggs. So I¡¯d decided to call her she in the hope that it¡¯d become one and make more dragons for me in the future. But... I¡¯d feel stupid if calling it a ¡®she¡¯ didn¡¯t do anything, and it turned out to be a man.


    Blood dripped down the edge of her maw, staining her golden scales with streaks of red. I laughed, a low, hollow sound that seemed to bounce off the marble walls.


    A dragon. I had a dragon. The weight of what I¡¯d accomplished was finally beginning to sink in. I had fully accepted the reality that I was in the world of Game of Thrones, and now I had a dragon as my companion. That ritual steeped in blood and fire had borne fruit. Or rather, it had hatched one.


    The possibilities swirled through my mind like the steam around me. I had awakened as an exiled prince with nothing but a name, but that had changed fast. Now I had power. Real power, where I could melt cities with my personal nuke.


    A dragon was more than a symbol. It was an instrument of conquest.


    Although, it got me thinking. What did this mean for me? For my plans?


    I wanted to leave Essos because I feared the Dothraki¡¯s wrath. Compared to that, if I just dyed my hair black, I should be fine in Westeros. But now¡­ I had a dragon. Should I still leave Essos? The question gnawed at me.


    Even if I dyed my hair, Westeros would welcome me with nothing but open swords since I had a dragon at my side. But there were also insane benefits. The game changed. I could wait out a few years and then go to Westeros. By that time, my Viserion should be large enough to melt cities. Certainly, that was a choice better than going with a baby dragon.


    Essos had its advantages too. The web of politics that I could twist to my favor thanks to Kinvara''s support, the wealth, and the freedom to grow stronger without eyes watching my every move¡­ I could also make an army for myself.


    Initially, I had no desire for the Iron Throne, but now¡­


    The flames from the ritual were seared into my memory, but the scent of power, the burnt iron-rich and intoxicating scent, lingered even stronger. When I fled from the Dothraki, I only wanted to survive, that had been my goal. Now, things were a lot different.


    ¡°Hah¡­¡± So many choices. I¡¯d need a bit of time to decide. The sharp sound of approaching footsteps pulled me from my thoughts.


    I didn¡¯t need to look up to know who it was. Kinvara¡¯s presence filled the room before she did, an aura of heat and purpose. She moved like a dancer, cloaked in light crimson robes. She stopped at the edge of the water, eyes dark with something unreadable. She reached out a hand, grabbing her dress on the cut near the shoulder.


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    With one slow, fluid motion, the robe fell away, pooling at her feet.


    My gaze followed the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, the flawless skin that gleamed under the dim torchlight. And of course, those magnificent breasts. What a strange world this was; she somehow looked much hotter than the Hollywood actress who¡¯d played her in the show.


    She slid into the water, the ripples gliding over her like silk. I watched in silence as she sat, too far away, the steam obscuring half of her face.


    ¡°Why so far?¡± I said, my tone teasing but edged with command. I patted the water on my right, ¡°Come, sit beside me. The water¡¯s too cool, warm me up.¡±


    A smirk ghosted across her lips before she pushed herself forward, the hot water parting for her. She crawled with the slow precision of a predator, stopping when she was between my legs, her back pressing into my chest. The heat of her body matched the warmth of the water, and she tilted her head back slightly, resting it against my shoulder.


    ¡°Oh,¡± I muttered, more to myself than to her. The sensation of her skin against mine sent a shiver across my body, urging me to lean down and devour her. What a gorgeous slut.


    ¡°Hm?¡± she murmured, her voice smooth and rich as she feigned ignorance. Even my cute dragon, sitting on my shoulder, didn¡¯t trust her tone. ¡°Do you want me to move away?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I replied, a lazy smile across my face. ¡°Stay.¡± I raised a hand as my fingers snapped together with a sharp crack. The sound reverberated, and a dark portal shimmered open in the air.


    Viserion screeched in annoyance, talons scratching at my chest in protest.


    ¡°Inside,¡± I whispered, nudging her gently. The dragon¡¯s golden eyes narrowed a defiant glare that lasted only a moment as I frowned. ¡°I said inside.¡± She flapped her wings, hovering briefly before darting into the dark void. The portal closed with a soft, final snap, and the room fell into a sudden silence.


    Kinvara¡¯s gaze turned up to me, her eyes smoldering with something deeper than desire. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen someone split open the space. Oh my, these powers of yours¡­¡± she bit her lip, almost involuntarily. Her eyes searched mine, and for a second, I saw the hunger there¡ªa hunger not unlike Viserion¡¯s.


    I stared down, smirking, waiting to see if she had the guts to take the lead. It turned out that she didn¡¯t, as she looked ahead, smiling to herself.


    ¡°But my prince, are you sure it¡¯s wise to be so strict with it?¡± She asked, ¡°Dragons are notoriously difficult to tame. Maybe you should show it love instead.¡±


    I leaned back, letting the warmth of the bath seep into my bones. ¡°Her. And yes, I¡¯m very sure.¡± My voice was low but confident.


    I wasn¡¯t lying. The dark space I sent Viserion to wasn¡¯t just any ordinary place. It was the [House of Dragons], a Skill that came with my newfound title, The Dragon King. It was more than just another inventory; it was a sanctuary for my dragons, a realm where they could rest and hide without any issues.


    The Quest Rewards were very useful. I looked forward to my next quest. With a thought, I summoned the System Page. There were now three pages.


    === Page [?] ===


    Viserys Targaryen


    The Dragon King


    22 Years Old


    Level 6


    -


    9 STR


    13 END


    6 DEX


    11 INT


    11 LUC


    12 AUTH


    === Page [?] ===


    I had dropped to Level 4 after sacrificing 5 Levels to awaken the dragon. Then, I gained 2 Levels for awakening a dragon.


    Level 6 wasn¡¯t bad; I was stronger than a bodybuilder in my past life. More than that, the Authority 14 stat was interesting. I didn¡¯t exactly know what it did, but if I had to guess then it made my orders have more impact.


    As for the ¡®The Dragon King¡¯ part of the page, clicking it opened another page. The second page. It followed when I nudged it with my mind, detailing my newly acquired status and abilities.


    === Page [?] ===


    Class: The Dragon King


    Skills: Dragon Management System [S], House of Dragons [S], Fire Resistance [E].


    === Page [?] ===


    I finally had Skills. It was sad that I couldn¡¯t gain skills by running and swinging a sword, unlike other Gamers that I¡¯d read about, but I¡¯d take it. Class Skills were fun.


    Clicking them showed their details. Fire Resistance was self-explanatory, although it was at a low rank of [E]. I hoped to raise it to [S] someday, which I presumed was the max rank. The House of Dragons was a spatial space where my dragons could rest, and unlike my Inventory, the time didn¡¯t freeze here.


    The first Skill was something that had another dedicated page for it. It was the page that I scrutinized most. I clicked it, and it expanded before me.


    === Page [3/3] ===


    Dragon Management System [S]


    You can manage your dragons here. You can see their location, hunger rate, and also their respect toward you. You currently own [1] Dragon, ¡®Viserion¡¯.


    Location: Volantis, Essos.Hunger: 100%Respect: 98%


    === Page [3/3] ===


    The location, if clicked, showed more accurately in my Mini Map. It was quite useful since dragons had a tendency to run wild after growing a little. Hunger was also useful, I guess. But it was the last status that caught my attention. The respect meter had dropped by 2% from what I remembered.


    I guessed that if it dipped too low, there would be consequences. There was a saying that fear and respect were better than love, and it was truer for dragons.


    ¡°Funny story,¡± I said, a hand resting on Kinvara¡¯s thigh.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°There was this man who owned a dog. This man preferred men in his bed, and he liked to be the one getting ¡®stabbed.¡¯So one day, his dog saw him getting- well, fucked hard by another man.¡± I said, and she giggled, leaning into my arms. ¡°No, really, real story.¡±


    ¡°Mhm, yeah? Go on.¡±


    ¡°Basically, after the dog saw his owner get fucked by another man, seeing him moan and cry, the dog stopped listening to his owner. Since then, whenever the man ordered the dog to do something, the dog has disobeyed and even seemed to make fun of the man all the time. The man was sad at the development that his dog stopped taking him seriously, but if you ask me, what did he expect after getting found by his dog, moaning for another man? All the respect was gone from the dog.¡±


    Kinvara burst out laughing while I continued, ¡°So, wild animals, be it dogs or dragons, need to be treated strictly. They also need to be shown the strong side of their master to maintain respect. Love isn¡¯t going to keep them loyal forever.¡±


    ¡°Mhm. To be fair, love might work for a dog, they¡¯re loyal creatures, but not a dragon,¡± She said, looking up at me with her head tilted upward, a hand reaching out to caress my face. ¡°I think.¡±


    ¡°You think right,¡± I replied, squeezing her thigh softly.


    Kinvara smiled. ¡°...I still can¡¯t believe it. You pulled an egg out of thin air and made it live.¡± Her eyes were half-lidded, calculating. ¡°This odd power of yours¡­¡± She didn¡¯t finish the thought, but I saw the questions burning in her expression.


    I chuckled softly. ¡°There¡¯s a lot to believe, Kinvara. And trust me, it¡¯s just the beginning. I¡¯d prefer if you stop questioning everything because there¡¯s a lot more to come.¡±


    Kinvara stared up, lips slightly parted. Her gaze was hazy. Biting her lower lip, she shifted between my legs, the heat of the bath pressing around us like a second skin.  S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I felt her move, the water lapping softly as if caught between our breaths. My hands found her waist, fingers tracing the curve that led upward, pausing as I felt the rise and fall of her chest. She let out a small laugh, a sound that broke the silence with an edge of mischief.


    ¡°I thought you preferred distance,¡± she murmured, tilting her head back just enough for our eyes to meet. The faintest hint of a smirk played on her lips, daring me. "I thought you had a problem down there, my prince¡­ The way you were pushing me away. Now I feel wronged."


    I tightened my grip, her soft curve melting on my hands, feeling the heat prickle my skin. ¡°There are moments for distance,¡± I said as I leaned in until my breath warmed her ear, ¡°and moments for this.¡±


    I had a problem. My libido was too strong. I need a cure. Thankfully, I had an answer to that. I just had to release my libido regularly so as not to let it bother me. And I just happened to have a super hot woman wiggling on my arms right now.


    Her eyes sparkled with amusement and surprise. Before she could answer, I kissed her, the touch rough at first, testing. Her lips met mine, surprised for a moment before it went soft and eager. She melted into something deeper and hungrier.


    The steam around us thickened, turning the room into a cocoon of heat and shadows as we made out in it. My hands moved with purpose, tracing the smooth expanse of her skin, feeling the slight shiver that ran through her as I explored.


    Every shift, every small intake of breath from her only fueled the atmosphere building between us. She was begging for it. ¡°Ahn¡­ I want you, my prince.¡±


    ¡°Your king,¡± I corrected her, a hand slapping her boobs. She gasped and then laughed.


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯d want your dragon to see this?¡± She said, giving me a slutty look. ¡°If I¡¯m right, you¡¯re about to destroy me, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I bet you¡¯d love that,¡± I leaned in and bit her nape and then snapped a finger. The [House of Dragons] opened, and the dragon flew out. I was going to do what she said. I threw a piece of meat on the other side of the room, and Viserion flew toward it, munching on it.


    I shifted all my focus to Kinvara next. She shifted, her body pressing back, teasing as her mouth left mine and a finger traced the line of my jaw. Her gaze held mine, dark with lust. My hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and line as if it were a territory I was claiming. Her skin was smooth and slick under my touch, the warmth of the water intensifying the sensation. I could feel her rapid and strong heartbeat echoing my own, her moans rhyming with my groans.


    ¡°Embrace me already, my king,¡± she said, and I slowly adjusted her position, lifting her in the water slightly so that she was poised above my cock. Her eyes met mine, a mix of anticipation and challenge in their depths. I held her gaze as I lowered her onto me, watching her expression change from playful to passionate. ¡°Nghn¡­¡±


    She moaned, squirming between my legs, her breath hitching as I filled her completely. Her pussy clamped around my cock warmly. I hadn¡¯t realized how warm she was until now. It was odd. The sensation was overwhelming, but I relished it. The power of the Lord of Light pulsed within her, embracing me as if to please me with her all.


    The blend of pleasure and power sent waves of heat through my body. I began to move, thrusting into her with a steady, deliberate rhythm, my hands gripping her hips to guide her movements.


    ¡°Oh, yes, that¡¯s it~¡± Her moans filled the air, a symphony of desire that urged me to go harder. I felt her body responding to mine, her cunt clenching around me, drawing me deeper. The water churned around us, the splashing sounds mingling with our ragged breaths and whispered endearments.


    After a while, she let out a harrowing moan as she came for me, eyes locking on the ceiling. I was also close. So I stood, lifting her with me, our bodies still joined.


    I couldn¡¯t cum in that position since then I¡¯d have to cum inside her. ¡°Bend over,¡± I said and turned her around, bending her over the side of the pool. She gasped, her hands gripping the edge for support as I entered her from behind.


    ¡°I just came,¡± she complained, and in response, my fingers tangled in her hair, pulling it hard as I slipped back it. I thrust hard, beginning to fuck her with renewed intensity.


    "So you should be grateful your king¡¯s giving you such a good cock," I growled as her ass jiggled for me, watching her moan. ¡°You like this, don¡¯t you?¡±


    She let out a hungry moan, her body arching back to meet my thrusts. "Yes," she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Yes, I do. More, fuck me more~"


    I could feel the tension building within me, the pressure mounting as I drove into her again and again. I leaned down and kissed her, releasing her hair. She stood up, pushing back against my chest, her body trembling with the force of her own pleasure, her hands reaching back up to grasp my shoulders as we continued kissing.


    "Cum inside me," she whispered, her voice laced with a desperate plea. ¡°Please, inside~¡±


    I paused for a bit. Then, with a swift, sharp movement, I slapped her ass. It was harsh, and the sound echoed through the chamber. She yelped, both in surprise and pain, her eyes wide as she looked back at me.


    "Be careful what you wish for," I warned, my voice low. "I know what you''re up to."


    She stared at me with a panting expression and then pouted as if she were a kid. No way was she just waving it off by acting cute. Well, she did look cute, excluding the hot, raw, and primal desire in her eyes. I pulled out, busting all over her back. Her back looked like a canvas where I painted a rain of white. She moaned, gasping for me as she came again.


    "...Let''s move to the bed," she murmured a moment later, her voice soft and inviting, as she turned back and kissed me deeply. I hugged her, groping her fat ass, and pushed her on her back against the stone floor.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± I said, and started destroying her again.


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: So Viserion is a she-dragon, capable of laying eggs. I got some mixed results on the ¡°dragon-girl or not¡± question (not really mixed, mostly one-sided), so there most likely will not be any human form dragon girl. Just see the dragon as the cool fire lizard she is.

 [7] The Second Sons

    Chapter 7: The Second Sons


    ¡ª


    I stood by the window of my bedroom. Red Temple¡¯s highest floors provided a beautiful view, I had to admit. The moon lighted my face while the night breeze ruffled my hair. I watched the distant stars, my gaze looking at the unfamiliar canvas.


    Even the stars looked different from Earth. I recognized none of the constellations.


    This place¡­ wasn''t some distant planet in a distant galaxy or even a parallel world. It was a whole other universe. I missed Earth sometimes. I wasn''t someone important back in that place, but it was still home.


    I guess this is my home now, even with my 22 years of memory as Viserys, that seemed a hard truth to swallow. But at least I managed to swallow it at all.


    ¡°You seem lost, my king,¡± a soft voice, so melodic that men might mistake it for a song, called from behind. I didn''t turn. Warm hands wrapped around me from behind as a warm, naked body pressed against my shirtless back.


    Kinvara hugged me, resting her head on my back. She was showing incredible affection after my performance from yesterday morning till tonight. Just 13 points in END, and I could go for almost two days. It helped that she was hot as fuck, too.


    ¡°Stargazing.¡±


    ¡°Your expression is too melancholic for just that, no?¡± She asked, and I shrugged. She huffed. ¡°More than stars, why not appreciate that red line?¡±


    She peeked from my shoulders and pointed at the Red Comet. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The red lines that painted a part of the sky. It had been days, but it hadn''t vanished. It had come to be when the dragon egg hatched, and it remained still.


    It was heaven''s announcement that a dragon was born.


    ¡°People are making so many different theories about that,¡± she said. ¡°Someday they''d know the truth.¡±


    ¡°Someday.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of that, when are you planning to reveal your dragons? If you do that, a lot of noble families from Westeros will show you their support,¡± Kinvara said. I put a hand behind me, yanking her arm, and made her sit on the window. Leaning in and kissing her, I pulled back as she smirked. ¡°You could have just said it if you wanted me to shut up.¡±


    ¡°You''re a smart woman,¡± I smiled back. ¡°So stop saying dumb stuff. Just my name would earn me a thousand assassins. And if my enemies learn that I own a dragon now? King Robert two weeks ago, and Ned Stark will get executed tomorrow. Robert Baratheon wants my sister dead simply because she carries Drogo¡¯s child. His son will sit on the throne, and he will not hesitate to send an army to kill me and my dragon.¡±


    ¡°Haah, you''re very aware of the political situation,¡± Kinvara said. ¡°Then what are you planning? Do you plan to hide your dragon in that dark space forever? It- she''s a wild creature. She needs to spread her wings to become bigger. To become helpful to you.¡±


    ¡°Not forever. I''ll let Viserion fly soon,¡± I said. ¡°As for my plans¡­ I plan to go to Westeros and ally myself with Dorne. I was engaged to Princess Arianne Martell. 17 years ago. It was only broken because I had to flee Westeros after Robert took the throne. The Dornish are still loyal to my house. They''ll accept me. Especially when I show my dragon to them. They won''t leak the information either.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°But as sure as I am, there can always be variables. So I''ll need an army to fix that. To make them trust me more. A dragon is a solid bargain. For the last three hundred years, it was armies that won war, not dragons. There''s no way around it.¡± I explained myself, and she hummed.


    ¡°Have you thought of the Unsullied?¡±


    ¡°Have you decided to lend me ten thousand gold coins to buy them?¡±


    She smiled cheekily and looked away. ¡°Unfortunately, the money of the Church of Light isn''t mine to spend, my dearest king.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± I shook my head and sighed. Even if she saw me as Ahor Ahai, she wasn''t the only High Priestess in the world. She couldn''t do as she pleased. Plus, I didn''t want to rely on her too much. ¡°I''m planning to take on the Second Sons.¡±


    The Second Sons, like many mercenary companies, had a strong tradition of following strength and leadership. If someone defeated their leaders, it was likely that they would follow the new leader, as these companies respected power and the ability to command.


    She raised an eyebrow at my words, and I explained, ¡°Most members of the Second Sons are sons of landless lords or scions of houses to which they are not heirs. But the majority of them still want their names written off in the pages of history.¡±


    ¡°I am aware,¡± she nodded.


    ¡°If a king comes to them, bearing the blood of conquerors, praised by a High Priestess, an exiled prince with a dragon resting on his shoulders, he''d likely be able to earn their loyalty after defeating their leaders. Luckily I seem to fit all those criteria.¡±


    ¡°After defeating, you say,¡± she repeated. ¡°Forgive my rudeness, my king, but as impressive as your spear¡¯s performance in bed was, you aren''t a warrior. Leaders of Second Sons are incredible warriors. I¡¯ve seen them fight. You¡¯re sure you¡¯ll win?¡±


    I smirked. She had seen nothing. Just my Inventory alone gave me a thousand tricks, but on top of that, I had direct strength too thanks to my STR Stat. I just have to raise it. And also Level Up.


    ¡°Kinvara,¡± I said, putting a hand under her armpit and raising her. She blinked. I held her in the air with one hand, near the window, and basically the one in control of her life and death. ¡°I''m much stronger than you realize.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± she stammered, unsure what to say, and I put her down. My hand ran down her curves, and I smirked.


    ¡°But you''re right. Strength alone doesn''t win a battle. I''ll train for a few days. In the meantime, find the Second Sons¡¯ location for me. I''m sure your ears and eyes can pick up on that quite fast,¡± I ordered and watched her stare at me before she slowly nodded.


    ¡°As my king commands,¡± she smiled, her momentary uneasiness and shock melting in thin air, as she leaned up to kiss me and then walked away with a sway of her hips.


    ****


    The next day, I heard the news.


    Eddard Stark had been executed.


    The entire Westeros was in uproar, and the effect even reached as far as Essos. It went to show how legendary that man was. Unfortunately, with this incident, the great tragedy of House Stark had begun.


    I had made a decision since that day in the bath. I was going to take the Iron Throne, something that was rightfully mine. It was not a dream I''d have dreamt if I didn''t have a dragon flying around my head right now, especially if I didn''t have the System. But now, the decision was made.


    I had met a pitiful end in my last life and was given a chance to live another. I was not going to settle for mediocrity when I had all the necessary cards to aim for the pinnacle.


    So I did.


    My goals had layers, but I didn''t want to dream about the higher layers at the moment, as it would sound delusional. I''d keep my eye on the Iron Throne for now.


    I trained in spearmanship for the next two weeks. Kinvara found me a good spearmanship instructor who could show me the ropes.


    He was Braavosi and taught me the spear techniques of ¡®Lightning Dance¡¯. It was an Essosi Spear Martial Arts, primarily taught in Braavos. I assumed it was a family technique of the dance that Arya Stark learned, named ¡®Water Dance¡¯.


    It was a weird thing and extremely hard to pull off. But thankfully, I wasn''t a total newbie in the way of the spear. As useless as the original Viserys was, he''d received spear training when he was a kid.


    That experience allowed me some edge on the lessons, and somehow I learned very fast.


    At least, the instructor said I did. I didn''t think he was giving mindless praise. He didn''t know my identity, I was wearing a black hair wig, and he had no reason to give false praise.


    ¡°W-whoa!¡± The instructor gasped when I parried another of his attacks, sending him staggering back a little. ¡°That¡­ that was an impressive attack. You''ve come far, young man.¡±


    We were in a small yard in the middle of the Red Temple, where we''d been training for the last few days. My teacher was no Barristan Selmy or any other legendary figure, but he taught the spear well enough. Spear was easier to learn than swords, and somehow I was learning it even faster.


    I think it was my INT that helped me speed things up? I couldn¡¯t be sure, but the results spoke for themselves. I was no master spearman yet, but this should be enough to defend myself with the blade without just hacking down on people.


    Lightning Dance was a bit showy, which is the reason behind the ¡®dance¡¯ part, but I liked it. On top of that, as his praise left his lips, a System notification greeted me.


    [Skill Spearmanship (C) has risen to Spearmanship (B)!]


    When I first started taking these lessons, I finally gained a Skill on my own after hours of meticulous training. That proved that Skills could be earned if I spent enough time on them. Or maybe it was only limited to fighting techniques? I¡¯d have to figure that out too.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, bowing in respect as I dropped my spear. It was broken in two. Footsteps came from the hallways then, and Kinvara entered the yard. She smiled.


    ¡°It seems we don''t need your lessons any longer, instructor,¡± she smiled at the instructor. Collect your payment from a servant. I have some private matters with Vis here.¡±


    The Braavosi man bowed and then left.


    Kinvara walked over, her steps slow, as she stopped in front of me. ¡°You keep surprising me. He¡¯s one of the best around, and his students usually spend years taking lessons from him.¡±


    ¡°I definitely haven''t absorbed everything he can teach, but this should be enough,¡± I said. I wasn''t being humble, either. It''d have taken me a few months to absorb all the things he could teach. The man wasn''t lacking materials to teach.


    ¡°Oh?¡± She smiled. ¡°I saw your fight, it was impressive. But are you confident you''d be able to win against the Second Sons without the full package?¡±


    ¡°I suppose you''ve found their location since you''re talking like that?¡± I asked, prompting her to just smile in response.


    ****


    The rhythmic thudding of hooves cut through the early dusk, the sounds dulled by the distant hum of the camp ahead. The Second Sons'' encampment sprawled before us in a patchwork of tents and makeshift pavilions, smoke curling lazily into the sky from scattered fires.


    It was a modest camp by the standards of Essos, housing only five hundred men, but the air of defiance and discipline that was in this place was unmistakable. Well, in some parts anyway. Most of them look far too lax.


    Under their current leader, Mero, the Second Sons had fallen off their glory. Perhaps since there was no great war to fight in? They were too unruly. Although one part of the camp seemed to be training. Probably the Stromcrows, the team directly under Daario...


    I shifted slightly atop the horse, eyes narrowing as I took in the movement beyond the camp¡¯s perimeter. There were mercenaries lounging, sharpening blades, and some sparring shirtless in the warm evening. Those were strong warrior men.


    ¡°Despite being small in number, they''re so notorious because of their discipline.¡± Beside me, Kinvara said as her crimson robes caught the fading sunlight. ¡°Well, in the past, anyway.¡±


    We weren''t alone this time. The guards she had brought with her flanked us, their stony expressions hidden under helmets.


    ¡°Discipline in fighting perhaps, not in character,¡± Some might argue that I was the last person to talk about character, but as expected, soon a teasing whistle came from a wiry man leaning against a tent pole. He grinned with eyes glittering as he took in Kinvara.


    Others followed a low chorus of chuckles and smirks spreading through the crowd. They were as unruly as the Stone Men we¡¯d fought, with zero respect for a priestess.


    Kinvara¡¯s lips curled into a subtle smirk, unfazed. She didn''t seem bothered. She knew what she showed, and she did so knowing that.


    ¡°Slow down,¡± I said to my Dany White, and it did. We were in front of the main entrance that loomed ahead, guarded by four men, their spears forming a cross that barred our path.


    One of them stepped forward, his face lined with scars and suspicion. ¡°No entry,¡± he growled. ¡°The leaders are busy tending to an important guest.¡±


    I blinked, barely concealing the flicker of curiosity. An important guest? Here?


    Kinvara leaned forward, eyes sharp. ¡°The High Priestess of the Red Temple requests an audience. Inform your leaders if they would choose to turn me away.¡±


    The guard¡¯s posture shifted, uncertainty creeping into his rigid stance. With a sharp nod, he turned and disappeared into the maze of tents, leaving us in a silence that buzzed with watchful eyes. The moments dragged, and I spent it looking around.


    When he returned, his breath came in short gasps, eyes darting between us and the path behind him. ¡°They will see you,¡± he said, stepping aside with a reluctant motion.


    I exchanged a glance with Kinvara who nodded. I urged my horse forward, and she followed, her expression veiled with an air of indifference, though I¡¯d come to know her well enough to sense the anticipation crackling beneath it. She was curious about the show that''d soon unfold.


    Our protective guards led us, their presence a silent threat to anyone but us, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to care. My mind was already sharpening, ready for battle.


    The main tent came into view, larger and open at the sides, lit by braziers that cast flickering shadows across its worn canvas. I frowned at the sight ahead. A table stood at its heart, laden with an indulgent spread of fruits and half-drained goblets.


    Around it sat three figures I recognized immediately¡ªMero, the Titan¡¯s Bastard, who filled the space with his barrel chest and bellowing laugh. He was the leader, while the other two were lieutenants. First was Prendahl na Ghezn, his face as stern, and then was Daario Naharis, the future Queen Fucker.


    None of them were unexpected. It was the fourth face that stopped me cold, and I felt a heat rise at the back of my neck.


    It was a man not of Essos but Westeros, with broad shoulders, a tall neck, and a smile so charismatic that women would pass out on his feet. He was laughing with the others.


    Prince Oberyn of Dorne.


    The Pedro Pascal lookalike sat at ease, legs stretched and fingers wrapped around a goblet, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Beside him sat Ellaria Sand, her dark eyes dancing with amusement. They flicked at me, and her smile turned curious.


    I controlled my expression. What''s going on? Oberyn. The Red Viper. A man who had fought with the Second Sons before during his younger days, yes¡ªbut why was he here now?


    Was this a coincidence, or had he come seeking me? That was impossible, nobody should know I was in Volantis. Even if someone learned it, it wasn''t enough for him to come see me. And there was no way he knew about the dragons.


    Logic said this was just a coincidence, indeed.


    ¡°The Second Sons,¡± when our horses stopped in front of the tent, Kinvara greeted the Second Sons with a smile.


    They stopped chatting among themselves, and all turned to us. Prince Oberyn did the same, and his eyes found mine across the tent. He frowned with a confused look on his face as if he almost recognized me.


    Almost.


    He didn''t.


    I was glad. While I wasn''t worried about him hurting me, if Prince Oberyn knew about me enough to come find me, what made it impossible for my enemies to do the same?


    I heaved out a breath of relief.


    **


    **


    **


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 [8] Who Am I? I am the Conqueror.

    Chapter 8: Who Am I? I am the Conqueror.


    ¡ª


    ¡°The Second Sons,¡± Kinvara greeted the Second Sons with a smile. ¡°Your reputation exceeds you.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Mero smirked, raising a cup at her.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean that as a compliment,¡± Kinvara¡¯s smile widened. ¡°I was greeted with disrespectful whistles when I was entering the camp. Quite a treatment you show to a potential patron. The strict reputation of your discipline seems to be outdated.¡± She finished, and Mero¡¯s expression fell. He lowered his cup and scowled.


    ¡°I¡¯ve also heard they are easy to betray their customers if their enemies propose a heavier pouch,¡± I added, watching the man clench his jaws.


    ¡°Is this true, Mero?¡± Prince Oberyn, lying on his slide on the tall touch, frowned as he looked at Mero. ¡°If so, I¡¯ll be disappointed. I made you the vice leader before I left and was incredibly delighted when I heard you became the leader a few years ago. And you¡¯re doing these things?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s lying, Prince. Despite his words, see they¡¯ve come to us for a job,¡± Prendahl na Ghezn chimed in, coming to his leader¡¯s rescue, which made me laugh. ¡°Touch¨¦, eh?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± I was surprised this illiterate fool knew what touch¨¦ meant. Must be local to where he was from. I shook my head, ¡°No, that¡¯s not why I laughed. I laughed because we¡¯re not here to hire you as a customer.¡±


    Kinvara smiled beside me while Daario Naharis blinked. He¡¯d been eyeing Kinvara all this time, but my words caught his attention. He asked, ¡°Why then?¡±


    I took in their expressions. Mero sipped wine, glaring at me. Prendahl did the same. I eyed Prince Oberyn and then spoke, ¡°I¡¯m here to challenge your leader, Mero, in a duel,¡± I said, hopping off my horse. ¡°I fear he doesn¡¯t deserve to lead you anymore.¡±


    A dozen Second Sons took a step forward, weapons raised, but Prince Oberyn raised a hand. They halted on their spot while the Prince beamed at me. Mero was laughing, as was Prendahl. Daario just smiled, just like the prince.


    ¡°You are an interesting man,¡± Oberyn said, leaning to the side to kiss his paramour. ¡°Barging into the Second Sons¡¯ camp and challenging its leader. What is your name, warrior? For such a brave man, I think I¡¯ll recognize you.¡±


    ¡°You can call me Vis for now,¡± I said, eyeing Mero, who stopped laughing to pour a glass of ale down his throat. ¡°I¡¯ll reveal my identity properly after defeating that drunken fool.¡±


    Prendahl growled, ¡°You don¡¯t get the balls to reveal your name and yet insult our leader? You¡¯re not even showing respect to Prince Oberyn here,¡± he said, trying to shift the animosity toward Oberyn. Did he hope I would get humbled by the man?


    Annoying bastard. I¡¯ll kill him too.


    ¡°True. You should bow,¡± Ellaria Sand said in place of her lover. ¡°You stand before a Prince, you realize?¡±


    ¡°I do, and no, I won¡¯t bow,¡± I looked at her. ¡°I recall bowing is only needed when the person in front of me is higher-ranked than mine,¡± I said, and Prince Oberyn frowned in response. He didn¡¯t seem to take it to heart, however, but rather seemed more curious about me. Just as I had hoped.


    ¡°What do you say, Mero?¡± Prince Oberyn looked at Mero. ¡°You have a challenger. As per the Second Sons¡¯ rules, you have to take up his challenge.¡±


    Mero licked his lips and smiled. ¡°Prince Oberyn, as true as that rule is, I¡¯m the leader now. So I decide the rules,¡± he said, and Oberyn frowned.


    He didn¡¯t like that.


    From the way his eyes darkened, I guessed that Mero would have been in for a good beating if I wasn¡¯t here. His next words thankfully saved him.


    ¡°But fine,¡± Mero said, standing up. ¡°He¡¯s got an annoying face, I¡¯d love to cut that in two. And then take that woman,¡± he smirked at Kinvara, who smiled back. ¡°You smirking bitch. Take your clothes off and come sit on my lap... and I may let you live.¡±


    Kinvara giggled, finding it far too amusing, which the fool somehow took for flirting as he smiled. He then turned to me, ¡°As for your desire to take over the Second Sons, you fool. It¡¯s never going to happen, even if you somehow trick me into losing. The Second Sons don¡¯t have such a stupid rule that we¡¯d go under anyone who defeats our leader, no¡­ We have the rule of killing any bastard that hurts our leader. So good luck on leaving this camp alive, even if you win¡ªby the luck of some god!¡±


    He burst out laughing and grabbed his weapon mid-air, which a minion had thrown. It was a massive, curved sword, which seemed to be modeled after the scimitars and other curved swords typical in Essos.


    Mero walked over and stood before me, smirking, scimitar glinting in his hand as if it had already tasted blood. Kinvara and our guards had dismounted by then and were moving away to clear space for our fight. The man eyed Kinvara again and then laughed at my face.


    His confidence was as thick as the stench of ale around him, eyes narrowed, daring me to make the first move.


    ¡°Spear,¡± I clapped my hands, keeping my palms closed as I slowly withdrew them. A spear formed between them as if I was doing a magic trick. Mero was blinking rapidly at the sight, probably wondering if he was seeing things.


    I gripped my spear and eyed him with a provocative smirk. He scoffed, ¡°Tricks.¡± He said so but still didn¡¯t attack first. I tightened my grip on the spear, feeling its weight become an extension of me, every breath slipping me deeper into the familiar rhythm of the Lightning Dance.


    I¡¯d practiced it for a long time, and thanks to the System, each of its moves had become second nature, a current running through my veins. I could trust it.


    Mero sneered, shifting his stance. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you got, coward,¡± he taunted, lifting the scimitar high as if his raw strength alone would crush me. I didn¡¯t answer. Let him swing. Let him think he had the advantage.


    He charged, boots slamming against the ground, sword raised in a wild arc. I could see every movement, slow as if he moved through water. A slight twist of my body and his blade whooshed past, close enough to feel the breeze but never close enough to land.


    Mero staggered, furious, catching himself just in time to shoot me a look of pure hatred. ¡°You slippery snake!¡± he spat, roaring as he lunged again, even faster this time.


    But that was the beauty of the Lightning Dance. My spear moved with me, a natural rhythm flowing through the air in perfect, quiet arcs. I didn¡¯t just dodge his attacks. No, I drifted, letting each movement fall into the next.


    Mero¡¯s blade cut into nothing, slicing the air, and I felt him grow more annoyed with each miss. That was making him more reckless, as I messed with him with taunting steps right out of his reach.


    His face twisted, frustration burning behind his gaze, and I could practically feel the rage boiling off him. Each failed strike made him angrier, his slashes more frantic, but I stayed just a breath away. Techniques or whatever, my stats were likely to double his. It gave me an unmistakable edge that he couldn¡¯t overcome with his experience.


    A whistle came flying, ¡°A drink to your great spearmanship!¡± Prince Oberyn said, raising a cup, drinking in my stead. I just laughed, which annoyed Mero more.


    I remained in control, calm, every dodge a piece of the dance, and he was the fool stomping on his own feet, getting tangled in his fury.


    The crowd was silent, watching and waiting for the results. I could feel their eyes on me, feel the tension thick in the air. Mero lunged again, his movements sloppy, and I knew this was it¡ªthe perfect moment.


    I let my body fall into the final rhythm, feet shifting, spear slicing through the air with deadly precision. One swift, sharp thrust, and my spear found its mark, sliding right between Mero¡¯s ribs. Blood splashed.


    His eyes went wide, the sneer frozen on his face, replaced by a look of stunned horror. His grip on the scimitar loosened, fingers twitching as he tried to hold on to the last shreds of his strength.


    For just a second, he slumped against the spear, weight heavy, and I held it firm, watching him. He was already gone, the life draining from him in a silent gasp.


    [You¡¯ve killed a human.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    I pulled the spear free, stepping back as he collapsed at my feet. Silence blanketed the camp briefly, every mercenary¡¯s gaze flicking between Mero¡¯s body and me, something like awe dawning in their eyes.


    The dance was over. And I was the one left standing.


    ¡°...Everyone!¡±


    Not for long, unfortunately.


    ¡°Kill that bastard!¡± Prendahl shouted, and the stunned Second Sons roared in response. A wave of sharks seemed to close upon me, but I didn¡¯t react.


    Someone else did. ¡°Nobody will attack him,¡± Daario Naharis said, raising a sword, ¡°Anyone who goes against that order, I¡¯ll kill them myself. Stormcrows!¡± A squad, loyal to Daario rather than the Second Sons¡¯ name, turned to their brothers, weapons held high.


    ¡°Daario, what is the meaning of this?!¡± Prendahl unsheathed his weapon and growled, and in response, Daario shrugged.


    ¡°You can kill him. But let¡¯s wait a minute, can¡¯t we?¡± He looked at me. ¡°He¡¯s yet to reveal his identity. Such a fine fighter should at least get to introduce himself before death.¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± Prince Oberyn nodded. ¡°Speak, warrior, what is your full name?¡± His man¡¯s gaze turned sharp as he looked at me. He must have gotten really curious when I said we were equal earlier.


    The silence around us was thick and charged, every eye fixed on me like they were staring down the edge of a blade. I didn¡¯t need to say a word¡ªjust let the tension build, heavy as the air before a storm.


    Slowly, I lifted a hand, reaching up to my hair, fingers slipping between the strands. Then, in one clean motion, I pulled. The black wig peeled away, tossed to the ground with a casual flick. The silver hair of House Targaryen fell around my shoulders, glinting under the flickering light.


    I ran a hand through it, letting it settle, my gaze daring them to question it.


    From across the tent, Prince Oberyn stirred, sitting up on his couch. He had a stunned look¡ªone that spoke of ghosts and memories unburied. His mouth parted, a whisper slipping out before he even seemed to realize it. ¡°Rhaegar...?¡±


    I did look similar to my late brother, yes. I kept the same hairstyle as him, and now that my cut-off hair had regrown, it looked just like his.


    But no, I wasn¡¯t him. I had my own name. I met his gaze, the weight of everything I was¡ªof who I was¡ªsettling in my voice. ¡°I am Viserys Targaryen, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, blood of the Conqueror, and the last living dragon.¡±


    That was all it took. The tension cracked like a whip through the air, and I watched as the truth settled over them, hard as iron and just as unforgiving. Their eyes tracked me like they were seeing something ancient. A memory of fear they¡¯d thought buried.


    Good. Let them see it. Let them feel it, the lethality of my lineage.


    I took a step forward, my voice low but loud. ¡°The Second Sons are full of nobles... yet lately they¡¯ve learned to play at loyalty when the right purse calls. Is it because you¡¯ve lost your nobility? I¡¯m here to take you all¡ªexiled sons of noble houses, cast-offs, forgotten¡ªand give you the power that was stolen from you.¡±


    They watched, their expressions shifting, breaking. I saw men who had long given up, faces once proud but hardened by years of war and service to the highest bidder. They didn¡¯t need a speech about who they were. They needed a chance to become something else.


    ¡°Enough,¡± I continued, voice gaining an edge. ¡°Why settle for scraps when we can take the whole feast? Robert Baratheon is dead! King Joffrey is a bastard. At times like this, my rightful claim to the throne is burning hotter than ever. Men, stand with me, and I¡¯ll make you legends. You¡¯ll be known not as exiles or second sons but as conquerors, feared across both Westeros and Essos. And beyond,¡± I turned to look at Prendahl and Daario. ¡°Come, and your names shall be etched into history¡ªnot as pawns but as men who rose with fire and blood.¡±


    The silence thickened, every word twisting deeper into them. The only sound was the slow, uncertain shuffling as some glanced at one another, the crack in their disbelief widening. Battle-hardened men, in the face of strong royal blood, hesitated to kneel.


    A voice broke the quiet from somewhere in the crowd, rough and skeptical. ¡°You¡¯ll conquer the Iron Throne?¡± The man¡¯s face twisted with disbelief, and he scoffed. ¡°You and what army? Even if we follow, we¡¯re just a thousand men!¡±


    That seemed to strike doubt in the people who had started believing. Prince Oberyn was frowning, staring at me as if wondering what I¡¯d respond with. I felt the smirk stretch over my lips as I raised my hand, holding his gaze. ¡°What army?¡±


    In one smooth motion, I clenched my fingers, tearing through the air. The crack was sharp and jagged¡ªa rip in reality. The air around us quivered, and then it broke wide as Viserion burst forth, a force of heat and fury in golden scales. Her wings spread wide, her roar cutting through the night, a flash of fire painting the sky red.


    Gasps, shouts¡ªsome staggered back, some fell to their knees, eyes wide and faces pale as they watched her rise, her scales glinting like molten gold.


    A Dragon.


    They were staring at Myth.


    Viserion circled overhead, her wings cutting through the air with power that made the ground shudder. Every beat of her wings commanded awe and terror.


    Prince Oberyn had shot up on his feet, his shock raw, eyes locked on the sky, lips parted as if he couldn¡¯t quite believe what he was seeing. He looked at me, face pale with shock, and then¡ªthen his lips widened ever so slowly. A grin broke over his face, wild and unrestrained, a glint of madness in his eye.


    I didn¡¯t lower my hand as I spoke, my voice loud, steady. ¡°Allow me to apologize. I lied when I said I was the last living dragon,¡± I said, a smirk slipping into my voice. I looked at Prendahl, who¡¯d annoyed me quite a bit earlier. I turned to Viserion, smiling. ¡°Dracarys,¡± I commanded, and she breathed fire at Prendahl.


    Too shocked to dodge, the man burnt off to crisps as he screamed. Daario had run off to the side, watching the scene with wide eyes. Everyone was watching the scene with similar gazes.


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a human.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]  sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°With what army, you asked?¡± I faced the man who¡¯d questioned me earlier. He fell back, unable to bear my gaze, and swallowed. ¡°With my dragon, who will tower over the largest of castles in a year! With her, I have armies of hundreds of thousands in no time. But I need loyal men to make the first strike¡ªand I want you to feel lucky that I¡¯ve chosen you lots over any other option.¡±


    The crowd stayed silent, awe and disbelief mixing in the air as Viserion roared, flame licking the night. Prince Oberyn¡¯s wide grin grew wilder, something raw and reckless in his expression.


    Kinvara stepped beside me, silent but her presence bright. Her hand slipped through my arm as she looked out at the crowd. The Second Sons stared at us, their faces shifting between fear, wonder, and something else¡ªsomething fierce, something loyal.


    In their eyes, I could see it. The spark of fire that had been waiting for someone to stoke it back to life. I had succeeded in my mission.


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: Last chapter of the week, next one comes out on Sunday!

 [9] Strategy of Dragons

    Chapter 9: Strategy of Dragons


    ¡ª


    The firelight danced over the faces gathered around, throwing shadows across their eyes as if to mask the calculations spinning behind them. The tent was open to the night air, its flaps rustling faintly, while the crackling torches cast a warm, flickering glow on the faces of those in attendance.


    Somewhere in the distance, the low hum of camp life played out, though here in this space, we might as well have been a world apart.


    ¡°I greet the High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis,¡± Prince Oberyn¡¯s voice rang with surprising formality, ¡°the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and First Servant of the Lord of Light.¡± He lowered his head slightly, a respectful nod that bordered on a bow. ¡°I thought it was you, but I wasn¡¯t sure. Allow me to apologize for those lousy bastards¡¯ manners from earlier.¡±


    Whoa, that¡¯s a lot of titles. I didn¡¯t know she was the First Servant of R''hllor. Just how old was she?


    Kinvara¡¯s lips curled in amusement as she raised a slender hand as if to wave away the matter. ¡°Oh, please, prince,¡± she replied lightly, her voice lilting. ¡°They¡¯ve already returned to the Lord.¡± A subtle gleam in her eye suggested she took more satisfaction in that fact than she let on.


    I watched the exchange with muted interest. Here we were¡ªan open tent, the torches holding back the night, the distant murmur of the camp all but drowned out by the significance of conversation in this space.


    I could feel it settling around me like a cloak. These men, these warriors¡ªhalf of them already belonged to me in name and loyalty, but I knew they needed something more, something that tied their purpose to a future worth believing in. They needed their King to show them results for all their hearts to move.


    ¡°This is a very pleasant meeting, Prince Oberyn,¡± I said, shifting my gaze to meet his. ¡°The last of the Targaryens haven¡¯t forgotten the friendship of the Dornishmen. As such, I was thinking of visiting Dorne soon. Who knew I¡¯d meet the Red Viper of Dorne here?¡±


    Oberyn¡¯s smile grew, its warmth almost alarming. ¡°Of course. You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. My niece... your fianc¨¦e... she misses you dearly.¡±


    That was polite fiction at best. I knew about her character, and although not in-depth, it was enough for me to know that was a lie. If Arianne Martell missed me at all, it was likely because of what my name represented, not because of who I was. She could have been the Queen of Westeros if that engagement had remained, after all. Still, the words were meant kindly enough, and they fit his role well. I allowed a small smile to play on my lips.


    ¡°As far as I''m aware, that engagement has been broken by the Martells¡­¡± I said with a softer smile, and he shook his head.


    ¡°Only in front. You have to understand that we had no choice but to play by the new King¡¯s rules. Now that Robert is dead and you have risen with your head held high, I¡¯m certain my brother will be happy to reignite the marriage,¡± he smirked. ¡°Or you can have one of my daughters. They¡¯re a little¡­ venomous, but I¡¯m sure a Dragon will manage.¡±


    I laughed, and he laughed along, raising a glass of wine at me. I held back my thoughts from forming on my lips, returned the gesture, and sipped my own drink.


    Kinvara shifted beside me, her attention turning to Oberyn. ¡°It eases my worries to see you guys get along. As you might have guessed, Prince Oberyn, I have chosen to support Viserys, the rightful king, in his cause,¡± she said, her voice carrying a calming conviction. ¡°The Lord of Light shines brightly upon his path, and so I shall help him reclaim the Iron Throne.¡±


    Delight flickered across Oberyn¡¯s face. ¡°The High Priestess of the Red Temple backing a Targaryen,¡± he murmured, his eyes dancing. ¡°It sounds like the gods might be real after all,¡± he burst out laughing and looked at me again, an unspoken question lingering behind his gaze.


    After a while, the conversation drifted to small talk and questions about trivial matters. But the air between us was coiled, stretched thin as we waited to address what really mattered. Finally, it was Ellaria, seated beside Oberyn with her dark, perceptive eyes,  who leaned forward, her voice low.


    ¡°My prince likes you, that is good. But, tell me, Targaryen, what exactly are your next plans?¡± She glanced around at the encampment. ¡°Westeros is fractured. The Five Kings each scrape against one another, drawing more blood than sense. Your new soldiers are an impressive bunch, I¡¯ll admit since my prince was a part of Second Sons before, but they¡¯re just a thousand men. It''s spare change against five kingdoms.¡±


    ¡°...Dorne will support you,¡± Oberyn added, ¡°but she has a point. I believe we¡¯ll need a larger army to make that throne yours.¡±


    I met his gaze, letting a slight smile play on my lips as I took a sip of wine, the rich taste curling over my tongue. ¡°An army isn¡¯t an issue, Prince,¡± I said with quiet confidence. ¡°Elsewhere, someone else is building an army for me. I¡¯ll just need to wait. In the meantime, I just have to get involved in Westeros¡¯ politics and this ridiculous war.¡±


    Ellaria tilted her head, brow lifting in a half-skeptical, half-amused look. ¡°Involved in politics?¡± she echoed in a voice full of doubt. ¡°Without an army, that sounds like the sort of plan that gets men like you killed.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but laugh softly. ¡°You¡¯re right, Lady Ellaria. But I¡¯m not going to fight armies by myself. Not yet, at least.¡± I let the last words settle, a touch of gravity pulling them down. ¡°I¡¯m going to let the kings destroy each other while I stay in the shadows, nudging them along. When they¡¯ve drained themselves dry, I¡¯ll arrive¡ªnot as the beggar prince but as a king with an army at my back.¡±


    That was precisely the plan.


    Joffrey Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, Balon Greyjoy, and Robb Stark. These so-called Five Kings grew ahead after the passage of Robert Baratheon. Thanks to my knowledge from the TV show, I knew more than enough points to remove or move around, which could change the entire field we were playing at.


    Prince Oberyn leaned back, his brow creasing. ¡°Moving between camps, sowing discord¡ªit sounds... clever in theory. But you¡¯re no shadow assassin. You¡¯re a Targaryen. Your main source of power is your dragon. You can¡¯t stay hidden.¡±


    I nodded, appreciating the doubt. It gave me the chance to make my point all the clearer. Without a word, I drew a dagger from thin air, letting it appear between my fingers as if plucked from the night itself, and tossed it toward him. Oberyn caught it, surprise flickering across his face. I pointed at my chest.


    ¡°Throw it at my heart,¡± I said simply. ¡°Trust me.¡±


    The tent held its breath. Oberyn hesitated, then lifted his arm.


    ¡°...I¡¯m a better marksman,¡± Ellaria interjected smoothly, taking the dagger from him. Her eyes gleamed with reckless mischief as she looked at me. A heartbeat later, her arm whipped forward, the blade hurtling toward my chest.


    The dagger struck, but instead of piercing flesh, it dropped to the ground with a dull thud as if it had hit an invisible wall. Silence rippled across the tent, broken only by the soft clink of metal against the earth.


    Ellaria raised a brow. ¡°You¡¯re wearing armor, aren¡¯t you?¡± Her lips curved in amusement. ¡°That¡¯s cheating.¡±


    I held her gaze, then lifted my shirt, revealing bare skin beneath. No armor, nothing but the slight rise and fall of my breathing. Ellaria frowned, her eyes narrowing in curiosity, and then picked up a knife from the fruit bowl beside her. She tossed it again, and this time, it brushed my skin before falling once more, impotent.


    ¡°Believe me when I say,¡± I continued, letting my shirt drop back into place, ¡°that I¡¯m not invincible. But my defenses are greater than most. It is touching seeing you worry for me, but I have special powers, Prince.¡± Although I was sure an arrow could still pierce me from a close enough distance, I didn¡¯t need to explain that. ¡°And my methods will allow me to slip between the cracks unnoticed, stir the fire, and disappear before anyone suspects.¡±


    Oberyn and Ellaria exchanged glances and then gave me slow, cautious nods. Ellaria Sand appeared quite humbled and was now eyeing me with a slutty look. I ignored it.


    Oberyn¡¯s lips quirked with a faint smile. ¡°I find myself intrigued, Viserys. You can bring things in and out of thin air, and you have skin thicker than armor. It all makes me very curious, but more than that, it makes me feel safe. I can rest assured without worrying. Alright then, I¡¯ll take the bait. I agree with your plan. I¡¯ll arrange for all of us to travel to Dorne, including the one thousand Second Sons. There, they can rest, waiting for the call, while you stir the pot in the War of Five Kings.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Prince Oberyn,¡± I said genuinely. I trusted the man. If someone questioned his loyalty to the Targaryens, they¡¯d fail to disprove his hate for the Lannisters. That made him an easy friend.


    ¡°But I have a question,¡± he said, his gaze sharpening as he sipped rich wine. ¡°Earlier, you mentioned someone else is building an army for you. What did you mean by that?¡±


    I held his gaze, then let my eyes drift upward, gesturing for him to follow my line of sight. The night sky stretched out above us, studded with stars. ¡°Look.¡±


    Beyond the dissipating red comet, two more fiery trails blazed through the darkness, brighter and newer. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°My sister,¡± I said softly, my voice edged with a touch of reverence, ¡°doesn¡¯t share the abilities I do. So I left two dragon eggs with her¡ªprecious gifts, waiting for the right moment. Those lines in the sky...¡± I watched the understanding dawn on his face, the widening of his eyes, ¡°are proof. She has awakened them.¡±


    A stunned silence filled the tent, thick and heavy. ¡°Three¡­ three dragons?¡± Oberyn whispered, more to himself than anyone.


    Prince Oberyn, his whore, and Kinvara all understood the implications of my words. No matter what the rumor about me and my sister¡¯s animosity was, they¡¯d believe my words more than those rumors. To them, she and I were working together.


    I¡¯ll let the plot in Essos move as the original. My dearest Dany would carve her way through Essos, building a force while I bring Westeros to its knees. And when the right time came, I¡¯d reunite with my dear sister and make her submit.


    Together, we¡¯d claim what was ours.


    Far above, the stars shifted, and the comet¡¯s tail stretched wider across the sky¡ªa silent reminder that for all my plans, the fire I intended to unleash was a force beyond any of them.


    **


    **


    **

 [10] Dorne, Sunspear

    Chapter 10: Dorne, Sunspear


    ¡ª


    The morning mist clung to the ship as it cut through the water, the distant silhouette of Volantis fading into a faint smudge on the horizon.


    I leaned on the deck¡¯s railing, the cool ocean breeze slipping through my hair, carrying the last traces of Volantis with it. It had a strange way of pulling my mind back, if only for a moment, making me think about the power I¡¯d gathered there and the alliances I¡¯d secured.


    I watched the city shrink, its temples and towers dissolving into the haze. No part of me felt nostalgic. I¡¯d done what I needed to, and that place was behind me now.


    Viserion flew around me, soaring the sea, catching a fish with her claws. She was growing. She grew faster when I let her out. Tyrion Lannister¡¯s theory about the caged dragons might be true, after all¡­


    Footsteps clicked against the deck, breaking my thoughts. I didn¡¯t need to turn around to know who it was. Kinvara¡¯s presence was almost a tangible heat radiating before she even reached my side.


    ¡°Missing Volantis already?¡± she teased, her voice as light as the breeze.


    A laugh escaped me. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t I be asking you that? It¡¯s the home to your church, after all,¡± I said, glancing down at her. ¡°I wasn¡¯t exactly expecting you to tag along.¡±


    ¡°Oh my king, why will I not tag along? Any other Priestess can do the church''s work. But this matter can only come to fruit through me¡­¡± she leaned against me, her hand trailing up to rest on my shoulder, fingers pressing just enough to remind me she wasn¡¯t fragile. ¡°I¡¯m hurt. Are you already pushing me away?¡± Her eyes glinted with mischief. ¡°Or are you just so eager to meet your little fianc¨¦e?¡±


    ¡°Heh. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re coming along,¡± I replied, my gaze drifting back to the open water. ¡°I¡¯m going to need your powers, Kinvara. And as for my fianc¨¦e¡­ well, we¡¯ll see.¡±


    ¡°Oh please,¡± she said, giggling as she pushed herself against my body.


    Princess Arianne Martell wasn¡¯t a character I was familiar with. She was a character that only existed in the A Song of Ice and Fire Books, not in the Game of Thrones TV show.


    But my nerd of a friend back in my old life had once mentioned her in passing, describing Arianne Martell with no small amount of enthusiasm. Apparently, she was¡­ an eager girl, someone who found her way around men even before she¡¯d come of age.


    Well, what did I expect from a Dornish woman? Absolute whores.


    My mind drifted briefly. I wasn¡¯t walking into Dorne expecting a delicate flower. Still, the engagement¡­ Whether it could be rekindled? I didn''t think so. I didn''t want to, anyway. Her reputation aside, she had a personality problem. She was a brat.


    The name ¡°Viserys Targaryen¡± will soon be far larger than Dorne. So why must I tie myself down to a Dornish princess then? The marriage of The Viserys Targaryen can be used as a negotiating tool in the future. So, I was leaning towards not letting the engagement relight. But we''ll see.


    Kinvara shifted, her body pressing closer, eyes holding that teasing gleam. ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried?¡± I said, smirking. ¡°The men are staring. What will they think, seeing a priestess behaving like this?¡±


    ¡°Mhm¡­ Let them think whatever they want. Unless their stares scare you?¡± Her voice was low, and her hand trailed down my chest as though daring me to make a move.


    A scoff left my lips as I lifted my hand, letting it fall with a swift spank across her curvy ass. She gasped, arching toward me, her smirk deepening as my hand lingered, squeezing her firmly.


    ¡°Let¡¯s take this to my chambers,¡± I murmured, grabbing her hand and leading her below deck. She laughed softly, her fingers lacing with mine as I pulled her through the narrow corridor, pushing open the door to the dim room.


    I let her go, watching as she staggered a step, her lips curved in a challenging smirk. Without a word, I shoved her back onto the bed, her robes falling in disarray around her as she hit the mattress.


    ¡°Ah!¡± she gasped, looking shocked, and then giggled. ¡°Oh, the dragon¡¯s aggressive today,¡± she said, and my eyes traced her form. The cloth slipped from her shoulder, baring just enough to stir that heat.


    She looked up, the shadows of the room casting her eyes in a dark gleam, her smile daring me.


    I didn¡¯t need a second invitation as I yanked her clothes apart and started ravaging her into a moaning mess.


    ****


    The desert seemed endless, a vast sea of dunes that had carried us for days. The sun was a half-buried coin on the horizon, painting the sands in shades of gold and red. Ahead, Sunspear finally took shape, its towers breaking the sky like the jagged teeth of some ancient beast. From this distance, it felt unreal¡ªhalf mirage, half-truth.


    I kept my face wrapped, a piece of cloth hiding everything but my eyes, while the wig scratched against my scalp. Beside me, Kinvara rode in silence, her form cloaked from head to toe, her presence subdued. Neither she nor I wanted to catch attention. We were shadows in the desert, trailing behind Prince Oberyn and Ellaria Sand, while the Second Sons followed in disciplined silence.


    Oberyn cast a glance back, catching my gaze with a smirk. ¡°Quite the sight, isn¡¯t it?¡± His voice was tinged with pride. I could understand why. ¡°That is Sunspear, my home. She¡¯s protected on three sides by the sea and on the fourth by the Shadow City. To those who don¡¯t belong, she¡¯s a labyrinth, a trap. But to the Dornishmen, she¡¯s as open as the sky.¡±


    I watched the city grow closer, the walls high as if to touch the sky. ¡°A meticulous work of art,¡± I replied, and it was a genuine compliment. It was an Arabian masterpiece of a city from the Middle Ages. ¡°Your home¡¯s a painting, Prince.¡±


    Oberyn¡¯s smirk deepened at my words. Compliments did charming work on anyone. ¡°That¡¯s one way of putting it. But as beautiful as Dorne is, the Dornishmen are strong. We¡¯re survivors. And our enemies always make the mistake of forgetting that.¡±


    He liked to talk about his people, and I was glad to humor him since those same men were going to fight for me soon. We traveled the rest of the path in small talk.


    As we approached, the outer city¡ªSunspear¡¯s shadow¡ªunfolded around us. Narrow streets wound like veins, packed with people who stopped to watch us pass. They whispered to each other, some even calling out Oberyn¡¯s name. They adored the man.


    Eyes lingered on our procession, a curious gaze that only grew sharper as they noticed the armed men marching in our wake. But there was no fear, not with Oberyn at the head.


    The Dornish held him in their gaze as one would watch the desert sun¡ªdaring it to burn them but never turning away. If not for his adventurous nature, Prince Oberyn would have ruled Dorne far better than his brother.


    We reached the gates soon after that as Oberyn spoke. ¡°That imposing structure is the Threefold Gate,¡± he said, nudging his chin toward the structure that had doors stacked like shields guarding the heart of Sunspear. ¡°The Old Palace looms beyond. Can you see?¡±


    ¡°I can,¡± I nodded. The royal castle¡¯s spires reached up like defiant fists, crowned by the Spear Tower and the great domed Tower of the Sun. The weight of Dorne¡¯s legacy pressed down on us as we rode forward.


    [Image Here]


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    A guard stepped out from the gate, bowing low as he addressed Oberyn. ¡°Welcome back, Prince Oberyn,¡± he greeted, the respect in his voice clear, though his eyes flicked briefly over the rest of us, lingering on the Second Sons. ¡°Shall I arrange quarters for¡­ your company?¡±


    Oberyn chuckled, dismissing the formality with a wave. ¡°Yes, make sure they¡¯re shown to proper quarters. They¡¯re the men of this important friend I¡¯ve brought alone, and I don¡¯t want my men getting lost in the alleys. Wouldn¡¯t want them spooking the locals, now would we?¡±


    Daario Naharis took that as his cue, guiding his horse to my side with a chuckle. His gaze, as usual, bordered on insolence. ¡°My lord,¡± he murmured, bowing his head with that exaggerated flourish of his. ¡°You know where to find me should you need me.¡±


    I gave him a brief nod, and he pulled back, blending into the parade as the guards guided the Second Sons to the place they¡¯d be staying. In the meantime, some other guards moved to escort us toward the Old Palace.


    ¡°Beautiful place,¡± Kinvara brought her horse closer and said.


    ¡°First time coming here?¡± I asked.


    She shook her head. ¡°No. I¡¯ve visited Dorne before¡­ a long time ago.¡± She said and smiled at me, making me raise an eyebrow.


    We stayed close, silent, as we entered the palace grounds, leaving the sounds of the city behind. Within the walls, Sunspear¡¯s age and legacy seemed to seep from every stone, like a silent declaration that it would endure long after we were gone.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± Oberyn turned to me and said. ¡°To the Old Castle.¡±


    The air was thick with the scent of incense, mingling with the faint trace of flowers from hidden gardens. The halls swallowed sound, our steps muffled as if the palace itself held its breath. And then we reached the chamber, where Doran Martell sat waiting¡ªa man carved by the years, his body confined to a wheelchair, yet his gaze as sharp and watchful as a hawk.


    Beside him stood a giant of a man, dark-skinned. Areo Hotah noticed my gaze and stared back. He was as tall as the Hound but larger. Quite imposing to look at.


    Oberyn dismounted with fluid grace, spreading his arms wide, his grin full of boyish mischief that belied his age. ¡°Brother,¡± he called, his voice warm.


    ¡°Oberyn, you¡¯re back from your vacation,¡± Doran Martell smiled at his younger brother, his gaze flickering to Ellaria who nodded in respect. ¡°I thought you¡¯d remain there for a bit longer.¡± S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°I was planning to. But after hearing the situation in Westeros, the one too many people calling themselves ¡®kings,¡¯ I couldn¡¯t remain still,¡± Oberyn said and then grinned. ¡°Brother, I bring you a gift. One so precious I didn¡¯t dare trust the news to a raven.¡±


    Doran¡¯s gaze moved from Oberyn to us, his expression unreadable. His eyes lingered on Kinvara, and I saw the flicker of unease in his face. She slowly took off the robe that hid her face, and Doran¡¯s eyes widened. He tried to hide his reaction but didn¡¯t quite succeed.


    ¡°A Red Priestess,¡± he murmured, his tone carefully neutral, though the distaste wasn¡¯t lost on me. The Dornishmen worshiped the Seven Gods, after all.


    Kinvara only smiled, inclining her head with a serenity that bordered on mockery. ¡°The Lord of Light¡¯s blessings upon you, Prince Doran,¡± she said softly, her voice smooth as silk but carrying an edge that made Doran¡¯s fingers twitch on the armrest of his chair.


    I smirked at that exchange. I was starting to like her antics. Much of her priest talk was just jabbing at people, it was funny. Thankfully, my face was hidden, so the smirk went unnoticed.


    Doran inclined his head in acknowledgment, his eyes wary. But then his gaze turned to me, curiosity mingling with suspicion as he looked into my eyes. ¡°I assume it¡¯s him who¡¯s the gift?¡± He said, dismissing the idea that Kinvara could be the said gift.


    ¡°Yes, it is him,¡± Oberyn said, turning to me. I slowly took off the cloth that wrapped my face. I let it fall, watching Doran stare at me carefully. He didn¡¯t recognize me yet. Then I reached for the edge of the wig. With a single motion, I pulled it free, letting my silver hair fall loose, the stark color catching the torchlight.


    Gasps rippled through the guards, a whisper of recognition passing through the air. Prince Doran¡¯s eyes trembled.


    I took a step forward, meeting Doran¡¯s gaze directly, a faint smile playing on my lips. ¡°Prince Doran,¡± I greeted, bowing my head slightly.


    ¡°He¡¯s Viserys Targaryen, the blood of the Conqueror,¡± Kinvara stepped forward to introduce me. I liked that. The words lost their weight if I was the one to introduce myself all the time. ¡°He¡¯s come here not as a stranger but as an old friend.¡±


    The silence that followed was absolute, the weight of my words settling like stone. Doran¡¯s expression tightened, his gaze cutting through me like a blade. His eyes held mine, and for a moment, I could see the conflict there, the way his mind turned over the implications. And then, with a small, resigned nod, he accepted the truth of what stood before him.


    Something big was going to hit Westeros¡ªeven the cripple Prince could tell.


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: Ayy, bonus chapter!


    Come find fellow fans on Discord and more chapters on Patreon!


    Patreon: Patreon.com/Master4thWall


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 [11] Princess Arianne Martell

    Chapter 11: Princess Arianne Martell


    ¡ª


    The late afternoon sun filtered through the lattice windows of the Old Palace, casting a warm, golden hue over the chamber.


    Fruits sat heaped in bowls¡ªfigs, pomegranates, and grapes glistening like jewels¡ªwhile Oberyn leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs in a posture as relaxed as his gaze. He plucked a grape and popped it into his mouth, his eyes twinkling with barely concealed mischief as he watched his brother. Across from him, Doran sat upright, fingers folded, his gaze distant and wary.


    ¡°So, brother,¡± Oberyn started, his tone almost playful, ¡°what do you think of my gift?¡±


    Doran sighed, rubbing a hand over his temple. ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s wiser to take a bath before we discuss this. You''ve been riding through the sands, and surely even you need rest.¡±


    Oberyn laughed. ¡°Rest? I''ve waited too long to bring this up. Besides, I¡¯ve already sent word for Arianne. She¡¯ll be here any moment.¡± He leaned back, his smile fading only slightly. ¡°I can¡¯t contain myself. Dorne has slept long enough¡­ Perhaps it''s time.¡±


    Doran''s expression tightened. He didn¡¯t seem to like the implications behind those words. ¡°This will bring Dorne into open war, Oberyn,¡± he said. ¡°Are you prepared for that? Do you really want that? For innocent Dornishmen to die for a meaningless war?¡±


    Oberyn''s gaze sharpened, and he leaned forward, his fingers pressing against the table. ¡°Brother, it wouldn¡¯t be a meaningless war. Do you truly not want revenge? Against those sick Lannisters? A Lannister bastard sits on the throne right now, it¡¯s the best of any time to seek revenge. The man I brought to Sunspear doesn¡¯t only have dragon blood in name¡­ he has a real dragon. ¡±


    Doran raised an eyebrow, an expression of pure skepticism coloring his features. ¡°The last dragon that lived was the size of a kitten when it died. I don¡¯t distrust you if you say he has a dragon, but if he does, and I haven¡¯t seen him when he met it, it must have been hiding in his robes. The size of a kitten, this one too. Such a small creature is hardly the weapon we need. Oberyn.¡±


    Oberyn fell silent, and Doran continued, his voice soft but firm, ¡°I remember Rhaegar. I remember his cause and the ruin it brought.¡± His jaw tightened, words carrying the weight of old grudges. ¡°But Viserys¡­ from all I¡¯ve heard, he¡¯s no Rhaegar Targaryen. He¡¯s a broken man¡ªa boy who sold his sister to savages and ran when he lost control. What kind of king abandons his blood for a crown? We at Dorne don¡¯t sell off little girls, do we, little brother?¡±


    ¡°...¡± Oberyn¡¯s face grew stony, a rare hardness settling in his eyes. ¡°I thought the same, brother. But you¡¯re wrong. This Viserys is no coward, not anymore. Perhaps the rumors painted him weak deliberately, or perhaps he¡¯s just changed. But he¡¯s far from the man in those rumors. I¡¯ve seen him fight, and I, Oberyn Martell, was impressed with the way he held a spear,¡± He held Doran¡¯s gaze unblinking. ¡°He carries the fire of our old allies, their blood and their fire, and if you give him a chance, I¡¯ll have him show you. His Dragon too.¡±


    Doran shook his head, a faint smile barely tugging at the corner of his mouth as if humoring Oberyn despite his better judgment. He¡¯d always done that. Oberyn knew his older brother adored him a lot. That was why he humored his potentially bad decisions many times. And if he allowed that this time too¡­ Doran wouldn¡¯t regret it.


    ¡°For you, I¡¯ll entertain this, Oberyn. But his presence here must be kept a secret. I¡¯ve no desire to invite trouble from King¡¯s Landing.¡± He paused, his voice dropping to a murmur. ¡°If he¡¯s worth the trouble you believe him to be, we¡¯ll see it soon enough.¡±


    Oberyn nodded. His brother was a cautious man, but contrary to what some people believed, he was not a spineless coward. Oberyn loved him for that.


    Just then, steady and fast footsteps echoed down the corridor. Both men looked to the door as Princess Arianne strode in, a gorgeous lady, her presence a burst of color and confidence that lit the chamber. She wore deep green silks failing to cover her white blouse, adorned with gold jewelry, her skin bronzed by the Dornish sun. S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Spoiler


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    The dark-haired girl¡¯s gaze was as sharp and knowing as her uncle¡¯s.


    ¡°Uncle!¡± she called out, breaking into a wide grin as she crossed the room. She threw her arms around Oberyn in a swift embrace, her laugh light and genuine. ¡°Back from another adventure, I see?¡±


    Oberyn chuckled, returning the embrace and giving her a fond pat on the shoulder. ¡°More or less,¡± he said, his voice softening. ¡°And how is my brilliant niece?¡±


    Arianne pulled back, flashing a mischievous smile. ¡°Bored, mostly. You know how it is here in Sunspear. Endless courtiers and games of cyvasse¡ªno adventures to speak of. When will you take me on an adventure again?¡± She threw a teasing glance at Doran.


    Oberyn laughed, but Doran¡¯s face grew somber as he watched them, his eyes shifting back to Oberyn with an unspoken question.


    Sensing the shift, Arianne glanced between them, her smile fading slightly. ¡°Alright, what is this about?¡± she asked, her gaze narrowing. ¡°Why the sudden summons?¡±


    Doran remained silent, his fingers interlocked as he leaned forward, watching her with the careful, calculated look he reserved for moments of significance. But it was Oberyn who spoke. The man¡¯s voice turned serious, his gaze fixed on her face.


    ¡°Arianne, my dearest niece¡­¡± he began slowly, his words deliberate, ¡°Do you remember the engagement you had as a little girl? The one that was broken¡­?¡±


    Arianne¡¯s brows drew together, confusion flashing across her face as she searched her memory. She looked at Oberyn and then back at her father. A glint of recognition passed by her gaze, and her expression hardened as understanding settled over her.


    Arianne¡¯s eyes trembled.


    ****


    Arianne Martell was mad.


    The free skies and scorching sands of Dorne, the warmth of Sunspear where she ruled as a free woman¡ªthese were her inheritance. And yet here she was, feeling those freedoms squeezed tight as her guardians toyed with the idea of her marriage to a Targaryen.


    Why the hell are they doing this?


    Her ex-fiance was a man who might not even live long enough to wear a crown, a coward with a reputation as ragged as his family¡¯s ruins.


    The idea of being tied to a man she was sure would perish in this War of Five Kings was maddening. But her uncle, the ever-reckless Red Viper of Dorne, wanted her to consider it. He believed Viserys might be worth a second look.


    "Perhaps he¡¯s not the same as the rumors. At least meet him for yourself and see?" her uncle had said before she left the meeting chambers. But as much as Arianne loved her uncle, she knew better than to trust Oberyn¡¯s whims when it came to other people¡¯s lives.


    But¡­ She sighed, shaking her head. It¡¯d be a lie to say I don¡¯t feel a little greedy. Indeed, the whispers of ambition tugged at her thoughts. She could feel the allure of what such a marriage might bring.


    Queen.


    Not just the Princess Ruler of Dorne that she was destined to become, but the Queen of the Seven Realms. It was intoxicating to imagine a throne beyond Sunspear, to feel the weight of the Iron Throne beneath her, her voice ruling over more than just the sands.


    The allure of power and the weight of her uncle¡¯s request¡ªboth had her trapped. That was why she hadn¡¯t screamed or lashed out yet. She would meet him first and see for herself. This supposed Beggar King.


    And so, now, she followed Ser Andrey Dalt down Old Palace¡¯s shadowed corridors, the setting sun casting a molten gold light through narrow windows. Her steps felt heavier, the moment drawing close as she prepared herself. At least I hope he¡¯s not ugly, even if he¡¯s a coward.


    Soon, they stopped in front of a door, and Ser Andrey knocked, his gaze averted in the respectful way he knew she preferred.


    A voice called from inside, low and unhurried, ¡°Come in.¡±


    She sighed, then pushed the door open, eyes scanning the dim room. She blinked, and then her breath hitched as she caught sight of the shirtless figure by the window. The silver-haired man¡¯s back was broad and muscled, slightly wet from the bath he must have taken, catching the waning light lit by the setting sun.


    He didn¡¯t turn right away; he lingered there, facing the sun, his profile cast in shadow. When he finally turned, her gaze traced the lines of his chiseled jaw, strong and angled, sharp against the soft light.


    The fury that had simmered in her chest shifted and softened. Just a little.


    Princess Arianne allowed a small smile. ¡°Ser Andrey,¡± she murmured, a dismissive nod toward the knight, ¡°you can leave.¡±


    Her eyes remained locked on Viserys as she stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her. In a matter of seconds, her anger was replaced with a glimmer of curiosity.


    **


    **


    **

 [12] The Clash of Ideals

    Chapter 12: The Clash of Ideals


    ¡ª


    Dorne was a beautiful place. Unlike Volantis, which stank of overpopulation, iron shackles, and men¡¯s greed, Dorne was alive¡ªa free, raw beauty that didn¡¯t hide its edges. The sunset poured its last light through my window, dyeing the sky with an amber glow. But that hardly mattered to me now. The true view stood before me.


    Princess Arianne Martell.


    "Princess Arianne," I greeted, a slight smile playing at my lips as she approached with that dangerous grace Dornishwomen had perfected. I took her hand, bowing my head to brush my lips across her knuckles.


    ¡°Prince Viserys.¡± Her voice was rich, layered with interest and amusement as she withdrew her hand, silver eyes meeting mine. Her smile lingered, and I could see why men lost themselves over her. She was beautiful and hot-tempered, both a pleasure and a danger.


    Then we exchanged pleasantries, it was a formality that neither of us truly believed in but performed out of habit. She asked how I liked Dorne, her eyes flicking over me as though searching for whatever truth lay beneath my words. I took a slow breath, giving her a smile as I began.


    "Dorne," I said, glancing toward the open window where the last hints of sunset streaked the sky with hues of orange and gold, ¡°is a place of undeniable beauty that is impossible to capture in words. It has an edge to it, a rawness that feels untamed yet elegant.¡± I held her gaze. ¡°The sands are relentless, sculpting this land in ways that make it unforgiving for outsiders, but¡­ there¡¯s beauty in that. The dunes, the oasis towns, the freedom in the air¡ªevery corner seems to hide something wild and enchanting.¡±


    Arianne raised an eyebrow, the faintest of smiles playing on her lips as if she was both amused and intrigued. ¡°A poetic observation, Prince Viserys. I wasn¡¯t expecting that,¡± she said, her voice carrying a hint of tease. "But Dorne isn¡¯t merely the land. There¡¯s more to it than the dunes and sunsets.¡±


    I leaned in slightly, letting my gaze linger on her with unmistakable intent. ¡°I know,¡± I replied, my voice low. ¡°In fact, the most beautiful part of Dorne is not the land or its landscapes.¡± My gaze dropped, trailing over her as if tracing the curves of the dunes themselves, and then rose to meet her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a beauty that walks among the sands, sharp as the sun yet soft as the evening breeze. The kind that could make a man forget himself if he¡¯s not careful. Did anyone tell you how beautiful your eyes are?¡±


    She laughed softly, though her gaze held a glimmer of interest, her pride clearly piqued. ¡°Such sweet words, Prince,¡± she murmured. ¡°I must admit, you¡¯re different from what I¡¯ve heard.¡±


    I smiled, catching the faint trace of surprise in her expression. I felt bad for the words I¡¯d tell her soon. ¡°Is it such a surprise, princess?¡±


    Her lips curved, her expression turning both coy and daring. ¡°Dorne is beautiful, aye¡­ but¡­¡± She let her words hang, her gaze drifting downward to my bare chest before she met my eyes again, amusement flashing in her gaze. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s a bit warmer here than in other places, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I chuckled, apologizing as I ran a hand through my hair. ¡°I had just taken a shower and wasn¡¯t expecting company. I¡¯ll throw on a shirt if you¡¯d prefer.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no.¡± She glanced at my chest, then shrugged, her lips curving. ¡°I think you¡¯re just fine as you are.¡± I caught the slight rise of her brow, the unspoken dare. She was testing the water, assessing me, but I¡¯d already decided I wasn¡¯t here to charm her.


    Her attention was flattering, but I had no intention of lowering myself by pretending to worship the freedom she dressed herself in.


    ¡°More importantly, though¡­¡± she began, ¡°how did you know I was Arianne? I could have been any woman walking through that door.¡± S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I chuckled, shaking my head. ¡°I¡¯ve heard stories about you, Princess. Stories of your¡­ revealing tastes.¡± I let my smile fade, my gaze hardening as I added, ¡°Only one person in this palace dresses like a whore while being accompanied by a knight. Turns out I was right.¡±


    Her smile faltered, surprise flashing across her face. I saw the slight flicker of anger before she caught herself, recovering with a restrained smile. ¡°I, uh¡­ I heard you spent a lot of time in Essos. I imagine jokes there are different?¡±


    I laughed, taking a step back to the table piled with fruits. I plucked an apple and bit into it, savoring her glare as I kept my back to her. I could feel her eyes on me, and it was clear she hadn¡¯t expected this. She wasn¡¯t used to being treated with anything less than reverence.


    ¡°That knight you brought with you¡ªSer Andrey, isn¡¯t it?¡± I said, glancing at her over my shoulder, a smirk on my lips. ¡°He was looking at you like he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Maybe he already has. I won¡¯t be surprised given your dressing sense and rumors. Unfortunately, I like my women¡­ well, a bit less public about it.¡±


    The silence was sharp, and I could feel her mood shift, her interest replaced with something colder. It was a pity, really. If only she¡¯d come in here with the disdain she¡¯d left with; that would have been simpler. Her interest only made it sadder, the crush fading from her eyes, replaced by something bitter and disappointed.


    ¡°The rumors failed to capture just how foul your personality is.¡± Her eyes narrowed, a look of contempt hardening her gaze. She sounded angry. ¡°Since you seem to care so much about coverings, I think you can throw on a shirt now. Or do you hold that bare chests on men are somehow different from a woman¡¯s exposed skin? I¡¯ve always hated how differently men and women are judged. It seems you are no different from the rest of them, Prince Viserys.¡±


    I chuckled, biting into the apple, savoring its sweetness before tossing it back on the table. ¡°Men and women have their places, their roles. It¡¯s not a matter of looking down on you. We just aren¡¯t the same.¡± I shrugged, my tone dismissive, already tiring of the subject. I didn¡¯t care to explain myself to her; it was her problem if she didn¡¯t like it.


    Her eyes remained fixed on me, her anger simmering beneath her gaze. ¡°Well, " she said with a curt nod, turning sharply on her heel and striding toward the door without another word. She didn¡¯t bother hiding her fury, the insult simmering in her step as she swept from the room, leaving the air thick with her resentment.


    I watched her go, letting the false smile of arrogance drop the door shut behind her. I munched on my apple, ¡°It¡¯s a shame, really.¡±


    She¡¯d been the easiest way to pull Dorne to my side, the quickest route to gaining support from Prince Doran and the Dornish army. I knew how this looked¡ªpushing away a simple solution, an engagement that could give me everything. But I had my own set of ideals. For a marriage, I wouldn¡¯t settle for a woman who paraded herself like that.


    No, dressing sense was one thing, character another. She was a whore. I wasn¡¯t going to get engaged to a whore, no matter if people called me a hypocrite.


    Now, I¡¯d have to figure out a different way to gain Dorne¡¯s support.


    ****


    Arianne Martell¡¯s head burned with rage.


    How dare he insult her like that?


    The audacity of that man, standing there with his dismissive tone and those piercing, relaxed arrogant eyes. Her hands clenched into fists as she stalked down the corridors, barely noticing the guards and attendants who quickly stepped aside to avoid her wrath.


    When she reached the meeting chamber, she pushed the doors open a bit too hard for royal etiquette. Inside, her father and uncle were still talking, but her uncle Oberyn had freshly bathed, his hair still damp, leaning back with a look of ease. Doran looked as he always did, quiet and contemplative.


    When she stormed in, her father¡¯s gaze sharpened with curiosity, and Oberyn smiled.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re back already,¡± her uncle began, but she cut him off, fixing her father with a hard stare.


    ¡°Father,¡± she said, her voice tight, ¡°I feel dishonored by this meeting with my ex-fiance, Viserys Targaryen. He is just like every other arrogant man from outside Dorne, and I refuse to entertain any marriage with him. I am not going to marry someone who looks down on women, someone who would¡ª¡± Her voice faltered with frustration. ¡°He called me a whore in all but name.¡±


    Doran blinked, taken aback by her vehemence. He turned his gaze to Oberyn, who cleared his throat, looking away from her while holding back a shrug.


    ¡°Maybe I should have prepared you,¡± Oberyn muttered, running a hand through his hair. ¡°The prince isn¡¯t exactly... subtle with his words. Men from powerful lineages are often arrogant. Plus you have to understand the culture he comes from too. To them, Dornish men and women are¡­ well, not holy.¡±


    Doran shook his head with a sigh. ¡°Arianne, you don¡¯t have to marry someone you don¡¯t like.¡± His voice was calm, even gentle. ¡°I have no intention of selling my daughter for a political marriage, certainly not one that brings us no benefit.¡±


    Arianne felt her anger flare again, but not toward her father. Her father¡¯s measured words and his unyielding refusal to sacrifice her for mere strategy were reassuring. She was more than relieved knowing that she wouldn¡¯t be forced to marry that bastard. Yet she couldn¡¯t shake the humiliation of that encounter, the dismissive way Viserys had spoken as if she were something cheap and unworthy.


    ¡°No,¡± she said, her voice steeling as she straightened. ¡°That¡¯s not enough.¡±


    Doran shook his head, ¡°We can¡¯t punish him for running his mouth. He¡¯s still a Targaryen, and your fiance, even if that part is a past.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to punish him,¡± she said, gathering her breath. ¡°I demand an Honor Trial of Combat against him!¡±


    Her father stared at her while Oberyn¡¯s face fell, his hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose as he let out a groan. She didn¡¯t care if she sounded frustrated. That bastard insulted Ser Andrey Dalt too, didn¡¯t he?


    Tomorrow, Ser Andrey Dalt would wipe his face on the floor.


    **


    **


    **

 [13] Can I See Your Dragon?

    Chapter 13: Can I See Your Dragon?


    ¡ª


    The air in the Old Palace thrummed with anticipation, cheers swelling and fading like waves crashing against the ancient stone. Slanted sunlight poured through narrow windows high above, casting golden lines across the gathering.


    In the courtyard¡¯s center, a ring of castle guards stood watch, eyes sharp and fixed on the open ground that would serve as the arena.


    On the raised platform, Prince Doran Martell sat, his expression calm as his gaze swept over the crowd of Dornishmen below. Beside him, Oberyn lounged, his eyes falling on his daughters¡ªthe Sand Snakes¡ªscattered in the crowd below. When they caught his eye, they nodded with a smile, their glances carrying the same fiery spirit as their father.


    Near them, Ellaria watched with quiet amusement, her eyes warm as she soaked in the lively, charged energy of the crowd. ¡°This is going to be interesting,¡± she said.


    ¡°I agree,¡± Kinvara wanted over. She strided to the platform with that peculiar smile of hers, the flames of excitement reflected in her gaze. She inclined her head to the two princes, who nodded back and settled beside them.


    ¡°Quite the lively start to the day,¡± she murmured, her gaze sweeping the arena with a flicker of curiosity. ¡°But are you sure about this, Prince Oberyn? You¡¯ve seen what he can do.¡±


    ¡°Ah, well,¡± Oberyn chuckled, though Doran frowned, a hint of curiosity in his expression. ¡°I did request Prince Viserys to go easy. Hopefully, he¡¯ll listen.¡±


    Doran was about to ask what was going on, when the crowd¡¯s focus shifted as Princess Arianne made her entrance. Murmurs followed her like ripples, voices low and filled with admiration. They cheered for her, and she waved at them. She moved through the assembly with the graceful ease of one born to be the center of attention, her dark hair catching the sunlight, her gaze steady and sure as she met their eyes.


    ¡°Father. Uncle.¡± She greeted the Princes, bowing a little, as the crowd¡¯s energy seemed to gather around her, rising higher as she took her place beside her father.


    Kinvara¡¯s gaze flicked to Arianne, her smile deepening slightly as she inclined her head. Arianne¡¯s response was polite, her nod restrained, though a faint tension edged her lips. Her distaste for the priestess was subtle but not unnoticeable. She didn¡¯t like the religion of the God of Light, as a follower of the Faith of the Seven.


    ¡°Now that the princess is here, begin,¡± Prince Doran said, nudging his chin. Then, a man in dark red robes, a bright sash slung across his chest, stepped forward¡ªthe announcer.


    He raised his hands, and the crowd fell silent, anticipation settling over them like a drawn breath. ¡°Today!¡± he proclaimed, his voice echoing across the courtyard, ¡°we gather in love of our dear Princess Arianne Martell, whose honor shall be defended in this sacred Duel of Honor!¡±


    He paused, letting the crowd¡¯s cheers rise once more, then continued. ¡°First, we have Ser Andrey Dalt! He¡¯ll be fighting for our Princess!¡± At his words, Ser Andrey strode into the circle, his light armor polished, his form imposing with a broad shield in one hand and a long sword in the other. The crowd¡¯s roar surged, raised fists, and shouts of support filled the courtyard.


    ¡°Ser Andrey, the pride of Lemonwood!¡± the announcer continued, his voice booming with pride. ¡°Champion of our princess, who stands to uphold her honor!¡±


    The cheers intensified, and Ser Andrey raised his sword in acknowledgment, his gaze hard and ready. Arianne caught his eye, offering him a nod, her lips curving in a confident smile as she watched him step into position.


    Drey is a powerful knight, she noted. I can¡¯t wait to see that bastard¡¯s face when he¡¯s thoroughly humiliated.


    The announcer¡¯s tone shifted, an edge of intrigue coloring his voice. ¡°And today, he faces a warrior from beyond our shores. A man from Volantis here to challenge those who walk the path of blood and sand. He, who has the Second Sons at his beck¡¯s call, a warrior known as¡­ Vis!¡±


    A figure emerged from the shadows, face half-hidden beneath a wrapped cloth. Viserys stepped forward, moving with a casual, almost dismissive grace. Clad in dark clothing, his Targaryen features concealed by a simple wig, he held nothing but a spear. It was an arrogant contrast to Ser Andrey¡¯s armored form. His stance relaxed, his gaze unflinching.


    The crowd¡¯s murmurs grew, rippling through the courtyard, surprise flashing in their eyes at the sight of this ¡°outsider.¡± This man, who was he to question their princess¡¯ honor?!


    But as he stood there, calm and assured, those murmurs shifted, turning into enraged and curious cheers as they adjusted to his unbothered confidence.


    Arianne¡¯s gaze narrowed, her irritation tempered by something else¡ªa hint of fear. Here wasn¡¯t someone awed by the crowd or the spectacle. No, he moved like he¡¯d already won. How could a coward be so arrogant? Was she reading him wrong since his face was hidden?


    ¡°Now!¡± The announcer¡¯s voice rose over the crowd. ¡°Let the duel begin!¡±


    The courtyard held its breath as Ser Andrey settled into a solid stance, shield up, sword ready. Across from him, Viserys twirled his spear, his grip so loose it seemed careless, his lips curving in a smirk under the cloth mask.


    The tension thickened, drawn tight as Andrey launched forward, his blade slicing down toward Viserys¡¯s chest. Viserys sidestepped with ease, letting the sword pass by inches, and flicked his spear lightly against Andrey¡¯s shield¡ªa playful tap, more a taunt than an attack.


    ¡°Get him for me, Drey!¡± Arianne called, a teasing lilt to her voice, her grin widening as she watched her chosen knight advance.


    Ser Andrey¡¯s every step was heavy and deliberate, each swing of his sword powerful and precise. He was a knight that made his allies feel safe, and enemies scared. But¡­ Viserys was a shadow, slipping around him, his spear weaving through the air with a smooth elegance that seemed almost mocking. Andrey¡¯s force was met with nothing but swift, effortless evasion, Viserys darting away each time as if barely invested in the fight.


    ¡°Slippery rat!¡± Frustration flashed in Andrey¡¯s eyes, his strikes coming harder, his breaths growing rough as he fought to corner his elusive foe.


    Viserys¡¯s expression remained untouched, his eyes looking almost amused. His dodges were a clear taunt, as of mocking and shouting that Andrey¡¯s strength held no threat here. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He was like a spark of lightning dancing on earth.


    The crowd watched, spellbound, the tension thick as they took in the clash of styles¡ªthe brute strength of Ser Andrey against Viserys¡¯s calm, unbothered agility. Each parry, every fluid sidestep, seemed to underscore the difference between them, and a ripple of realization passed through the spectators as it became obvious who held control.


    ¡°Boring fight,¡± Viserys said when Sir Andrey started to pant and slow down. Then, with a swift, calculated sweep, he brought his spear down in a powerful arc, meeting Andrey¡¯s blade with precise force. Metal rang out, sharp in the silent courtyard, and Andrey¡¯s sword shattered under the blow, pieces clattering to the ground.


    Stunned, Ser Andrey faltered, his grip slipping as he took a step back, momentarily defenseless. Viserys had already moved, appearing behind him with a swift kick to Andrey¡¯s back.


    The knight flew forward, his armored form crashing to the ground as he coughed blood. His weapon lay in pieces beside him as he lay still, dazed in the dust.


    Viserys rolled his shoulders, a smirk on his lips, his gaze finding Arianne¡¯s. He tilted his head, his voice rising over the silence. ¡°So, Princess,¡± he called out, his tone filled with mock innocence, ¡°what does it mean¡­ to lose a Duel of Honor?¡±


    Arianne¡¯s eyes burned with pride wounded, anger simmering beneath her gaze as she met his challenge. Around them, whispers grew, the crowd murmuring in disbelief.


    She wished she could see his head on a spike.


    ****


    I hadn¡¯t expected the spoiled princess to feel so insulted she¡¯d demand an Honor Duel. She was what, twenty-two, and yet so thoroughly coddled. How could someone so thin-skinned hope to rule a land like Dorne?


    Now I walked beside Prince Oberyn, who was guiding his older brother with one hand. And on the other side of me, with her head dipped low, walked the princess herself, her proud gaze dulled, her expression a tight, stubborn silence. I¡¯d embarrassed her, and it was fun doing so. At least she was quiet now.


    ¡°Ah, children fighting,¡± Prince Doran said, his voice soft with laughter as he tried to ease the tension with a casual observation.


    The old Viserys might have taken deep offense at being called a child, but I let it roll off. Doran was simply trying to settle the matter with minimal fuss. ¡°But that aside,¡± he added, his tone warming, ¡°you certainly fight well, Prince.¡±


    I gave a nod, catching his gaze with a faint smile. ¡°If I¡¯ve learned anything, it¡¯s that I fight best when there¡¯s something on the line. And it¡¯s hard not to enjoy a Dornish duel.¡±


    Oberyn chuckled, giving his brother a glance. ¡°You¡¯ve got an instinct for the spear,¡± he said, looking at me with something close to approval. ¡°Your movements are so impressive that it¡¯s rare for men not born here.¡±


    I shrugged, keeping my expression smooth. ¡°I admire the freedom, that¡¯s all. Spears are more fun than swords.¡±


    We walked on, Doran occasionally turning to ask me a question or offer some casual comment. His words were calculated, his tone deceptively mild. He didn¡¯t say it directly like Oberyn, but he too was impressed by my spearmanship. It was the reason I hadn¡¯t just defeated Ser Andrey in the first ten seconds. Arianne kept to her silence, though I could feel her tension, like the sharp edge of a blade waiting for its chance to strike.


    After a while, Doran¡¯s tone softened into something more curious.


    ¡°I heard about your dragon, Prince Viserys,¡± he said, his voice laced with a cautious intrigue. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since Dorne has seen such a creature. Too long, I¡¯d say.¡± He offered a faint smile, a sign of his interest.


    I glanced at him, a flicker of amusement passing through me. ¡°She¡¯s a ravenous one, and she¡¯s hungry,¡± I replied. ¡°If I bring her out, she¡¯ll likely dart off to hunt. Unless, of course, you happen to have fresh meat at hand.¡±


    Oberyn laughed, his eyes glinting with understanding. ¡°Fresh meat is easy enough to find here.¡±


    Doran nodded, his gaze considering. ¡°You¡¯re in luck, then. I had some sheep butchered earlier today. They¡¯re waiting just nearby, if you would like to show us this dragon of yours.¡±


    I inclined my head, following the two princes down a narrow passage until we emerged into a courtyard. Several sheep carcasses hung suspended on ropes, their bodies limp and lifeless. Behind them, there was a farm where live sheep were eating grass. It was a sad scene if one thought about it. The air was quiet, tinged with the scent of blood, and the sky above was darkening, casting long shadows over the scene.


    ¡°Should be enough,¡± I said and stopped before the bodies, glancing between Doran, Oberyn, and Arianne, her gaze fixed ahead. I raised a hand, snapping my fingers.


    They all watched as the air cracked, splitting open with a shiver as space itself seemed to tear apart. From that rift, a dog-sized figure sprang forward, a flash of glistening scales and sharp talons. My Viserion landed with a quick, silent grace, her eyes bright and hungry as they locked onto the hanging meat.


    However, she didn¡¯t rush to eat that.


    Instead, she rushed toward the living sheep on the farm behind. She lunged forward, latching onto one of the white furballs with her sharp teeth, tearing into the flesh.


    A low growl escaped her throat, and a burst of flame followed, charring the sheep with a crisp sizzle before it could even scream. The flames also caught on half a dozen other ships, burning them alive. Arianne gasped as the scent of burning meat filled the courtyard as she tore into her meal, her growls a deep, satisfying rumble.


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a sheep.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a sheep.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a sheep.]


    ¡­.


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve leveled up.]


    [Level 11]


    All three of them watched the scene with wide eyes, mouths agape, and faces a mix of awe and fascination. But it was Arianne¡¯s expression that caught my eye.


    Her initial anger melted into something deeper, her gaze wide and transfixed, a look of reverence overtaking her features as she took in the sight of Viserion devouring the meal. The anger that had hardened her gaze softened, replaced by something like reverence, as though she was seeing herself ride the dragon in the future. Her kids doing the same¡­


    This was no mere show, no carnival creature on display. It was a dragon¡ªand everyone understood the implication of it. They also understood the fact that it was mine.


    **


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 [14] The Dornish Plan

    Chapter 14: The Dornish Plan


    ¡ª


    The Water Gardens of Dorne carried a stillness that could lull even the sharpest minds into calm. The soft patter of fountains mingled with the faint cries of children playing in the shaded pools, their laughter bubbling over the low murmur of waves in the distance. Palm trees swayed lightly, their shadows stretching across the tiled paths that wound between the water and the gardens¡¯ citrus groves.


    The smell of salt clung to the air, mingling with the fragrance of orange blossoms, while the warm breeze teased the edges of silk curtains hanging from the Old Palace arches.


    Doran Martell moved slowly, his steps slow, his frame leaning slightly into Oberyn¡¯s helpful arm. The younger brother had adjusted his natural quick pace to match Doran¡¯s measured rhythm.


    Neither spoke as they left the gardens and ascended into the quiet shade of the palace corridors, where the sun''s light softened into dim amber and filtered through windows.


    Inside a grand chamber, Oberyn helped Doran onto a low couch. The elder prince sank back with a quiet sigh, one hand resting lightly on the armrest, his other lifting to rub at his temple.


    ¡°So,¡± Oberyn broke the silence as he leaned against the back of a carved chair, his sharp gaze fixed on his brother. ¡°What do you think of him, then? After seeing his fighting style¡­ and that dragon.¡±


    Doran closed his eyes briefly as if to shut out the weight of Oberyn¡¯s excitement. ¡°You said he wants to invade the armies of the Five Kings on his own first?¡± he asked, voice slow and calculated.


    Oberyn nodded, failing to hold back a smug smile. ¡°That¡¯s what he says.¡±


    Doran opened his eyes again, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. ¡°...Then I don¡¯t see any reason not to support him.¡±


    Oberyn¡¯s grin widened, his hand clapping briefly against the chair¡¯s wooden back as he straightened. ¡°So, you agree,¡± he said, the satisfaction clear in his voice. ¡°I knew you¡¯d be able to see the opportunity in this, brother. This is going to be big.¡±


    Doran tilted his head, his smile faint but pointed. ¡°I can see that. If he fails, what¡¯s lost to us?¡± he asked, his tone soft. ¡°If he dies, no one will trace him to Dorne. No one will know he ever stood in our gardens. And the Second Sons? They¡¯ll retreat across the Narrow Sea, and we¡¯ll be left untouched.¡±


    Oberyn laughed lightly, a sharp gleam in his eyes. ¡°But if he doesn¡¯t die¡­¡±


    ¡°Then we gain the Iron Throne,¡± Doran finished, his tone colder now, like a knife¡¯s edge hidden in the calm. His eyes locked with Oberyn¡¯s, the faintest flicker of shared ambition passing between them. They weren¡¯t interested in the throne because they wanted to rule the realm, but because if they had a King they could trust to sit on the throne, they¡¯d finally be able to deliver¡­ justice.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get our revenge,¡± Oberyn added, his voice now low. There was no smile this time, just a raw hunger that lingered beneath his words. The mention of vengeance lingered in the air like smoke. His hand flexed against the back of the chair. ¡°You¡¯re wiser than me, brother. I know he¡¯s strong, but¡­ do you think he¡¯s ready?¡±


    ¡°I think,¡± Doran said quietly, ¡°that he has no choice but to be. The rumors about him aren¡¯t true. He¡¯s a strong man, and men like him don¡¯t come this far without real fire in their blood. But¡­ fire isn¡¯t enough.¡± He paused, looking at his brother with a weighted expression. ¡°We¡¯ll watch. We¡¯ll wait.¡±


    Oberyn nodded slowly, but the gleam in his eye hadn¡¯t faded. ¡°Watching isn¡¯t nearly as fun, but I suppose patience has its uses.¡±


    ¡°It always does,¡± Doran murmured.


    The two brothers sat in silence for a moment, the faint sound of water from the gardens seeping into the room like a whisper. Then Doran nodded, and Oberyn clapped his hands for servants to hear, ¡°Bring rich liquor. We¡¯ll have guests soon.¡±


    ****


    The golden light of the setting sun streamed through the narrow windows of the meeting room, casting shadows across the stone walls. The evening was settling over Dorne, the warm air carrying a stillness that was only broken by the occasional hum of the fountains in the distance.


    Viserion lay sprawled across my lap, her heavy form rising and falling with her breaths. Every now and then, her exhales came with a faint, sharp snore that sounded more like the crack of a whip than the soft murmur of sleep. It was oddly endearing. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Although it worried me for how long I¡¯d be able to hold her with my body. She¡¯d soon become far larger than me, enough to carry me and such. Then again, that wasn¡¯t a bad thing. I should be looking forward to it instead.


    Prince Doran, seated comfortably across from me, observed Viserion with unmasked fascination. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his chair, his expression thoughtful as his gaze swept over her small, scaled form.


    ¡°How big do you think she¡¯ll grow?¡± he asked after a moment, breaking the silence. ¡°I¡¯ve had the rare luxury of seeing the skulls of the last dragons in the Red Keep¡ªwhat little was left of them. They were barely the size of a kitten when they died. But this one¡­¡± His eyes narrowed slightly as if measuring Viserion¡¯s form against his memory. ¡°This one is already bigger. Do you have any guesses of how much larger she might become?¡±


    I glanced down at Viserion, running a hand absentmindedly over her ridged back. ¡°I¡¯m not certain about the exact size,¡± I admitted, though my voice carried an edge of confidence. ¡°But she¡¯ll grow larger than this castle. Much larger.¡±


    Doran¡¯s brows lifted at that, a flicker of intrigue passing over his features. Beside him, Oberyn let out a low chuckle, his fingers drumming against the hilt of his spear as he leaned forward slightly.


    ¡°A bold claim,¡± Doran murmured, though there was no disbelief in his tone. ¡°Larger than the castle¡­ It would be something to see.¡±


    ¡°It will be,¡± I said simply.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see,¡± Kinvara chimed in, smiling.


    Doran gave a short laugh, shaking his head lightly. ¡°Regardless, let us set dragons aside for now. Tell me, Prince Viserys¡ªOberyn tells me you intend to challenge the Five Kings. Which of them do you mean to strike first? And how do you envision Dorne aiding your cause?¡±


    I leaned back slightly, my fingers resting lightly against Viserion¡¯s side as I considered his question. The Five Kings. Joffrey Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, Balon Greyjoy, and Robb Stark.


    Balon Greyjoy was an afterthought, barely worth the breath it took to think of his name. He was an isolated old fool playing a game too big for him, his influence barely brushing the edges of the mainland. Renly Baratheon was even less of a threat, a pretender doomed to die before he could achieve anything of note.


    Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, was a greater concern. His armies were formidable, and his victories had carved his name into the histories already. But Robb Stark, despite his strength, was not my greatest enemy. He was naive, too honorable for his own good, and far too removed from my immediate goals.


    That left Stannis and Joffrey.


    Stannis Baratheon had always been a threat. In another time, the original timeline, he would have reached the walls of King¡¯s Landing, his claim reinforced by the fire and blood of his faith. If not for Tywin Lannister¡¯s intervention, he might have succeeded. My presence, a butterfly effect, might tip the scales in his favor this time.


    But the true prize was none of them. Like a hawk, my eyes had always been focused on King¡¯s Landing itself. Joffrey Baratheon.


    The bastard sat on the Iron Throne¡ªa boy-king bloated with arrogance and cruelty. He would like, like any of the other Five Kings, but his death wouldn¡¯t be soon enough for my liking. That bastard was an irritating bastard, and I wanted him dead now. Both for what I¡¯d witnessed in the show and also because of my pride as Viserys hated him the most since it was he who sat on the throne right now.


    Additionally, to strike King¡¯s Landing would be to strike at the heart of the realm. It would throw the continent into chaos, creating a wave that could topple the remaining players faster than they could react. And most importantly¡­ Joffrey, that bastard¡­.


    ¡°King¡¯s Landing,¡± I said at last, my voice cutting through the quiet of the room. A faint smile tugged at my lips as I met Doran¡¯s gaze. ¡°I plan to kill Joffrey Baratheon.¡±


    Doran¡¯s expression remained calm, but his eyes flickered with something unreadable. Oberyn grinned and then let out a low whistle, leaning back with a wolfish grin.


    ¡°You don¡¯t lack ambition,¡± Doran murmured, his tone carrying a note of approval beneath the caution.


    ¡°After armies,¡± I replied smoothly, ¡°ambition is what wins wars.¡±


    The game had begun, and King¡¯s Landing was my first move. I couldn¡¯t wait to leave.


    **


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    Author Note: Next update on Sunday, happy reading!

 [15] You Want to Be Queen?

    Chapter 15: You Want to Be Queen?


    ¡ª


    Viserys Targaryen was extremely arrogant and proud of his lineage, so at least he¡¯d read his Targaryen lore when he was young. But they were old memories. I had the memories, but they were kind of blurry now. So I was reading through it again.


    I rested against the bed frame, the weight of the thick tome heavy in my hands. The pages were filled with the legacy of my bloodline, the victories, and failures of Targaryens who had come before me. The words blurred slightly as I read aloud, the cadence of my voice filling the quiet room.


    ¡°King Daeron I, the Young Dragon, takes the throne and almost immediately launches an invasion of Dorne, which had remained defiantly independent since Aegon''s landing.¡±


    My voice trailed off, the next line hovering at the edge of my tongue when Kinvara, seated at the edge of the bed, interrupted.


    ¡°By its end, he lost 60,000 men and his own life at the tender age of 18,¡± she said casually, her tone smooth and unbothered. Her fingers trailed through her damp hair as she groomed herself in front of the mirror, her fiery red locks catching the soft glow of the candlelight.


    I blinked, annoyance flickering through me before I frowned. ¡°You just spoiled my read.¡±


    Kinvara glanced at me over her shoulder, her lips curling into a small, mischievous smile. ¡°Come on, it¡¯s common knowledge. You¡¯re the last dragon, aren¡¯t you? Shouldn¡¯t this all be second nature to you by now?¡±


    I clicked my tongue, snapping the book shut with a sharp sound. ¡°I¡¯ve read it before, but it¡¯s not as if I recite the damn thing every night. And besides,¡± I added, my gaze narrowing at her teasing smirk, ¡°it¡¯s more enjoyable without interruptions.¡± Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A knock echoed at the door before she could reply, the sound hesitant and uncertain. I glanced at Kinvara, who raised an eyebrow in silent question, before calling out. ¡°Who is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me¡­¡± The voice on the other side was soft, unsure.


    Arianne.


    Kinvara looked at me, her smile deepening as she rose from the bed with an almost predatory grace. I gave a short nod, and the door creaked open.


    Arianne Martell stepped inside, pausing as her gaze immediately landed on Kinvara, who stood beside the bed, her hair damp, her movements deliberate as she adjusted her robes.


    For a moment, the room was steeped in silence. Arianne¡¯s expression was tight, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced between the two of us.


    Kinvara broke the tension with a smile, stepping forward as she placed a hand briefly on Arianne¡¯s shoulder. ¡°The Lord of Light shines upon you,¡± she said smoothly before brushing past her and leaving the room.


    Arianne¡¯s eyes twitched as she watched her leave, and I barely managed to suppress the laugh rising in my chest. Kinvara was a troll, and she knew exactly what she was doing.


    ¡°She just came out of the bath,¡± Arianne said, her voice low but sharp as her gaze swung back to me. ¡°In your room? Why?¡±


    ¡°And?¡± I replied, leaning back against the bed frame, my expression neutral as I rested the book on my lap.


    ¡°W-why was she doing her hair here too?¡± she demanded.


    I smiled faintly, tilting my head. ¡°Oh, Princess, you should know better than anyone why. I was making her bite the sheets earlier.¡±


    Her eyes flared with anger as I casually set the book aside. ¡°What do you need?¡±


    Arianne scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, ignoring my question, ¡°And yet you judge me as if I¡¯m the whore?¡±


    I shrugged, my tone light as I leaned forward slightly. ¡°I believe in the lock and key analogy. Is it not popular in Dorne?¡±


    Her scowl deepened, and I laughed, continuing. ¡°A key that can open many locks is a master key, but a lock that can be opened by many keys¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡± Her voice was sharp as she glared at me, her eyes blazing. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that stupid saying before. Women are not objects.¡±


    ¡°Neither are men. I compared men with keys. Who¡¯s offended?¡± I leaned back again, watching the irritation bloom across her face. ¡°I¡¯m just messing with you, Princess. Although yes, I wasn¡¯t lying when I said those are my preferences. They may be hypocritical, but they¡¯re mine. Surely you can¡¯t judge me for that.¡±


    Her jaw tightened, but she said nothing, her silence speaking volumes.


    A moment stretched between us, thick with unspoken tension, before she sighed and straightened her posture. ¡°I heard you¡¯re leaving soon. So¡­ I¡¯ve decided,¡± she began, her tone quieter now.


    ¡°Decided what?¡± I asked, feigning disinterest as I reached for my book again.


    ¡°The engagement,¡± she said, her voice firmer. ¡°I¡¯ll rekindle the proposal. Since I lost the duel¡ª¡±


    I slammed the book down, the sound reverberating through the room as I fixed her with a sharp look. ¡°I wasn¡¯t dueling for your hand, woman. What do you mean you accept the proposal?¡± My tone was edged with annoyance. ¡°I was the one who rejected it first, not you. I don¡¯t want a woman who spreads her legs for everyone.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I cut her off with a wave of my hand. ¡°Only for those you ¡®love.¡¯ Same thing.¡±


    I pushed myself off the bed, my movements deliberate as I crossed the room. Arianne instinctively stepped back, her bravado faltering as I loomed closer.


    ¡°You¡¯re mistaken, Princess,¡± I said, my voice low as her back hit the wall. ¡°Your father and uncle already promised their support. They didn¡¯t offer me your hand because they knew I didn¡¯t want it. They didn¡¯t need to. You¡¯ve lost your leverage.¡±


    Her eyes widened, a flicker of doubt crossing her features as she stared up at me.


    ¡°What,¡± I continued, my hand reaching out to grasp her chin firmly. ¡°Did seeing my dragon make you so greedy? Is that why you think marriage is now the right choice?¡±


    She blinked at me, her defiance melting into something more vulnerable. Her gaze was glossy, and her lips trembled.


    ¡°You¡¯re horrible,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°This is a cruel world, Arianne,¡± I replied, letting her chin go as I stepped back. ¡°Don¡¯t hate me for being honest. You want to know why I won¡¯t marry you?¡± I turned, glancing at her over my shoulder. ¡°Because I don¡¯t need to. Your father already promised me his support. I don¡¯t need you.¡±


    Her silence was heavy, her pride clearly bruised, but I ignored it.


    ¡°Come here,¡± I said, my tone commanding.


    Arianne hesitated, but something in my gaze compelled her. Slowly, she stepped forward.


    ¡°Stay by my side,¡± I said. She hesitated but eventually moved closer, sitting beside me. Her eyes were slightly shaky, nervousness flashing across her face as she swallowed hard.


    I reached out, running my fingers through her hair, letting the silky strands slide between them. ¡°You¡¯re beautiful,¡± I said, my voice softer now. ¡°But beauty alone doesn¡¯t rule the world. Strength does.¡±


    Her gaze flickered, confusion and something else mingling in her expression.


    ¡°You want to be Queen?¡± I asked, tilting her chin up to meet my gaze. ¡°I am not sure if you¡¯re suitable to be one, as you were so offended by a mere rejection that you demanded a duel of honor.¡± He said, ¡°But I suppose everyone should get a second chance. I¡¯ll give you one. If you wish to prove yourself, stay close to me. Show me your loyalty, your strength, and perhaps, who knows what the future holds.¡±


    Her lips parted in shock, but no words came.


    ¡°What? You heard me,¡± I said, my voice calm as I brushed a thumb over her cheek. ¡°I like women. ¡°Kinvara brings warmth and comfort, but I seek something more. I need someone with ambition, fire, and the ability to stand beside me. So I think I need more women in my life and bed,¡± I said, even as she fidgeted on her spot. ¡°I plan to make the daughters of high lords my mistresses. I trust you don¡¯t judge. After all, the Dornish don''t judge a man¡¯s lust.¡±


    ¡°You¨C¡±


    ¡°Then, when I''m done conquering the land?¡± I cut her off. ¡°I''ll choose my Queen from among the mistresses.¡± I traced a finger down her chin, slowly raising her chin and making her eyes lock onto mine. ¡°It''ll not be based on their past or how many men they slept with. But based on how much I''ve accompanied their company¡­¡± My gaze lingered on hers, holding her in place. ¡°What do you say, little princess? You want to earn that, no?¡±


    The room fell silent, the tension thick as her breath hitched, and I leaned back, a faint smirk on my lips.


    Arianne Martell was never going to be my Queen. Not in this lifetime, not in any. But gods, she was too damn hot to let any other man have her. No, I wanted her broken under me, her moans echoing with surrender.


    ¡°Queen Arianne,¡± I murmured, letting the words roll off my tongue like a sweet tease. ¡°Has a nice ring to it, doesn¡¯t it? The Queen of Dragons. The first dragon rider in hundreds of years who isn¡¯t a Targaryen¡­¡± My gaze locked onto hers, and I watched the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed, caught in the web of my words. ¡°Tell me, Princess. Wouldn¡¯t you like to ride a dragon someday?¡±


    ¡°...Y-yes,¡± she whispered, her voice trembling, her gaze filled with something raw and untamed. Gods, this woman was greedy. I liked that.


    ¡°Good,¡± I said simply before reaching out and yanking her toward me with one sharp motion. Her body was light, and my strength was absolute. She landed on my lap, her breath hitching as her soft curves pressed against me. ¡°You can ride one right now.¡±


    Her eyes flickered with a dangerous mix of greed, hunger, and something darker¡ªlust. This woman had a weakness, and I¡¯d seen it laid bare before me. She thrived on humiliation, only to be soothed by the promise of something sweeter afterward.


    A need born from a fractured past, the telltale signs of her daddy issues written in every movement. She craved validation from a man who could dominate her, even as she spoke of freedom and equality. Her gaze locked onto mine, her chest rising and falling as she leaned forward. And then, with a sharp, desperate motion, she crushed her lips against mine. Her kiss was fierce, almost punishing, her body squirming against me as if demanding attention.


    And gods, wasn¡¯t it intoxicating to watch her unravel.


    ****


    I allowed her to lead for a moment, her tongue dancing against mine with desperate hunger.


    ¡°Mgh¡­¡± Her fingers clawed at my shirt, her breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps as she sought to claim some semblance of control. But I wasn''t about to yield so easily.


    My hands slid up her back, tangling in her hair, and with a firm tug, I pulled her head back, breaking the kiss.


    ¡°W-why?¡± Her eyes widened, her lips glistening and parted, her chest heaving with each breath.


    I held her gaze, smirking as I leaned in, my voice a low, husky whisper. "Shh. Not so fast, Princess. You don''t call the shots here, do you?¡±


    She whimpered, her eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and desire.


    I kept one hand firmly tangled in her hair, the other sliding down to cup her breast through her dress. Her breath hitched as my thumb circled her dark nipple that she was so proud of, feeling it harden beneath the fabric.


    "Don''t be shy now. I like my girls honest. So answer truthfully. This is what you want, isn''t it?" I murmured, my lips brushing against her ear. "You want me to take control, to make you feel liberated."


    She stared at me, her breathing rough, as she swallowed. A moment later, her nod was barely perceptible. "Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible.


    I chuckled before releasing her hair and moving both hands to the neckline of her dress. With a swift, decisive motion, I tore the fabric apart, exposing her breasts to the cool air of the room. She gasped, her hands instinctively moving to cover herself, but I grabbed her wrists, twirling around and pushing her on the bed.


    I loomed over her, pinning them behind her back with one hand. "Don''t hide from me," I said, my eyes locked onto her now exposed flesh.


    Her breasts were perfect, round, and firm, her nipples hard and begging for attention. Oh, how full those child-bearing hips were. I leaned down, capturing a nipple in my mouth, sucking and teasing it with my tongue. She moaned, her body arching against me as she squirmed under me.


    I released her wrists, my hands moving to her hips, tearing her clothes as she felt my hardened cock press against her. ¡°O-oh¡­¡± Her eyes widened as she felt me press against her, only the fabric of my pants separating us.


    I kissed her while lowering my pants just enough to free myself, feeling the cool air a contrast to the heat of her body.


    "Aren''t you looking so eager?" I asked, my voice hoarse as the tip of my cock pressed against her fat, hungry pussy.


    Her eyes were glazed with lust, her breath quick and desperate. "Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please, I want it. Please..."


    I didn''t need any more encouragement. With a swift, powerful motion, I lifted her hips and slammed down my cock, her moan filling the room as I filled her completely.


    I leaned over, catching her mouth, as her body tensed. Her arms hugged me tightly, and her nails dug into my shoulders as she adjusted to the sensation.


    I leaned back, my hands holding her face, my gaze locked onto her silver eyes. "Heh. Now, Princess," I said, grinning. "Let''s see how well you can ride.¡±


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


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 [16] Riding For Kings Landing

    Chapter 16: Riding For Kings Landing


    ¡ª


    [Ding! END +1 for your intense bed performance.]


    The morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, painting the room with a warm, golden hue. The faint sound of waves crashing against the shore drifted in through the open window, mingling with the occasional chirp of distant birds.


    Arianne lay beside me, her head resting on my arm, her hair a dark cascade over the silk sheets. Her finger lazily traced circles on my chest, the cool press of her touch contrasting against the warmth of the room.


    ¡°So,¡± she murmured, her voice light but edged with something deeper, ¡°when are you leaving?¡±


    ¡°This morning,¡± I replied, my tone casual, though I could feel her body tense slightly against mine. ¡°Yes, in a couple of hours.¡±


    Her lips pursed, and she frowned. ¡°Can¡¯t you wait? It¡¯s not as if you¡¯re on a timer¡­¡±


    I let out a quiet laugh, my hand brushing her side. ¡°I am on a timer, in fact,¡± I said. ¡°As beautiful Dorne ¨C and its princess ¨C is, I can¡¯t be idling here. I have seven kingdoms to reclaim. Just wait for me. I¡¯ll be back in no time.¡±


    She scoffed, rolling her eyes. ¡°You better. Unless some other man steals me while you¡¯re gone,¡± she teased, her grin playful but her gaze sharp, gauging my reaction.


    My hand slid lower, cupping her ass with a firm squeeze. She let out a soft whimper, her lashes fluttering. ¡°After last night?¡± I asked, my lips curling into a smirk. ¡°I doubt you¡¯ll be satisfied with anything less than a dragon dick. And well, if you still whore around¡­¡± I trailed off, my tone turning mockingly disappointed. ¡°It¡¯ll be a shame to see my current number one Queen candidate lose her position.¡±


    Her scowl deepened, but not because I called her a whore, she¡¯d heard a lot worse the whole night. It was because of the last line. She looked at me, and the corner of her mouth twitched as if fighting a smile. ¡°Right¡­ Priestesses can¡¯t be Queens,¡± she said, her grin sharpening. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll have to wear a chastity belt, then.¡±


    Arianne Martell was a whore in all but name, and I wasn¡¯t blind to that. She was too flirtatious, too unrestrained, and far too accustomed to getting what she wanted. That was why she¡¯d never be my queen¡ªnot in this lifetime or the next. But still¡­ she was mine now, and I wasn¡¯t about to let her forget it.


    I decided to mention her behavior to Oberyn. The entire Old Palace knew by now that I¡¯d bedded the princess. Her moans weren¡¯t quite restrained, so they must be assuming she¡¯d be my Queen. So if I mentioned her whore-like behavior to her uncle, he would figure out my intentions. His Ellaria and their daughters wouldn¡¯t let Arianne spread her legs for just anyone if it risked the position of Queen. Especially not with the Second Sons stationed here. They¡¯d be too wary of loose lips spilling secrets.


    Yawning, I let my hand wander upward, brushing over her round, soft boobs before giving one a grope. ¡°It¡¯s time for me to get up,¡± I said, nudging her with my chin. ¡°So better to work, Princess. Use your mouth.¡±


    Her lips parted slightly, a soft whimper escaping her as her cheeks flushed. She bit her lip, her voice dropping to a near whisper. ¡°Yes¡­ daddy.¡± She moved between my legs, her obedience unquestioning as the warmth of her mouth embraced me far more than the warmth of the morning light.


    ****


    The scent of spiced wine hung heavy in the air, mixing with the clatter of goblets and the coarse laughter of men who knew only battle as their constant. The dimly lit chamber buzzed with energy, the kind that came when men drank just enough to lower their guard without dulling their edge.


    I sat among them, my back resting lazily against the high-backed chair. Daario Naharis was at my side, his sharp grin practically a permanent feature of his face. He sipped his wine with the practiced ease of a man who knew how to enjoy life without ever letting his guard down. His eyes flicked toward me.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re leaving, your grace?¡± he asked, his tone casual but the curiosity beneath it clear.


    ¡°Not your grace yet,¡± I replied with a faint smirk, tilting my goblet just slightly toward him. ¡°But I like the sound of it.¡±


    Daario¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Oh, I think you are. You¡¯ve got a thousand Second Sons under your command, and from what I¡¯ve heard¡ª¡± he leaned in, lowering his voice but not enough to hide his amusement, ¡°¡ªfrom the Old Palace last night, it sounds like you¡¯ve got thirty thousand Dornishmen, too.¡± Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The laugh that left me was low and smooth. ¡°Fair point,¡± I said, raising my goblet slightly in acknowledgment. ¡°And yes, I¡¯ll be leaving soon.¡±


    ¡°How many men are you taking?¡± he asked, swirling his wine as though the answer were just as important as the drink. ¡°Last time we spoke, you mentioned¡ª¡±


    ¡°Same plan as before,¡± I interrupted my tone calm but carrying the weight of finality. ¡°I¡¯m going alone.¡± My gaze swept the room, noting the men whose laughter came a little too easily, whose movements were just a little too deliberate. ¡°And before you ask, no, I can¡¯t share the details. Too many ears, even here. But if I need your assistance, Prince Oberyn will reach you.¡±


    Daario raised his goblet with an approving nod, his grin shifting into something sharper. ¡°Understood. To your success, then.¡±


    The clink of our goblets was a muted sound compared to the din around us, but it held more weight. I downed the rest of my wine in one smooth motion before setting the goblet aside. Rising from my seat, I gave Daario a short nod before stepping away.


    The hall noise faded behind me as I walked through the corridors of the Old Palace. The stone walls cast long shadows in the faint light. The silk curtains swayed gently in the breeze, and the faint scent of citrus teased the air.


    It¡¯s about time, I thought, the faintest flicker of a smirk pulling at my lips as the door to the meeting room loomed ahead. I¡¯d mention Arianne¡¯s case first and then announce my departure.


    My boots echoed softly against the stone, each step steady, deliberate. The laughter from the hall was a distant hum now, replaced by the quiet anticipation that had become a familiar companion.


    The door creaked open as I pushed it, and I stepped inside, my thoughts already on the road ahead.


    ****


    ¡°Alright, Prince Viserys. Have a swift journey,¡± Prince Doran said, nodding at Viserys.


    The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of salt and citrus as it wafted through the Water Gardens. Sunlight dappled the tiled paths, its reflection glinting off the still pools. Oberyn Martell leaned against a carved pillar, his sharp gaze fixed on the figure preparing to leave.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Viserys Targaryen sat astride a white horse, his hair bleached black and his face wrapped in cloth, leaving only his sharp silver eyes visible. The transformation was striking¡ªpractical, but striking.


    It would hide him well enough, though Oberyn couldn''t help but feel that no disguise could mask the fire that radiated from the young prince. Fire was difficult to contain.


    A crowd gathered at the gate. Beside Oberyn, Princess Arianne stood silently, her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the departing figure. Her expression was carefully blank, but Oberyn knew her too well. She looked like she was holding her breath as if his departure would rob her of air. Good, Oberyn thought. Let her feel that weight. It would keep her tethered.


    ¡°She¡¯s in love already,¡± he murmured to himself, amused. He glanced at her sidelong, noting the faint tension in her jaw. A single night had been enough to snare her heart. That could work in Dorne¡¯s favor.


    He thought back to his conversation with Viserys the previous evening. The prince had been blunt, as always. ¡°I¡¯m not aiming for marriage, not yet,¡± he¡¯d said. It had annoyed Oberyn at first¡ªhe disliked the idea of his niece being left with false hopes. But Viserys had been clear: while he had no immediate plans to make Arianne his queen, he didn¡¯t want to give Dorne false promises, either. He admired her, and perhaps¡­ perhaps she could be queen one day. But only if she earned it.


    It was honest. Oberyn respected that. Better this than an empty scam.


    He¡¯d spoken with Ellaria afterward, asking her to keep an eye on Arianne. If there was even a sliver of a chance she could rise to queen, then she needed to stay pure¡ªuntouched by scandal or poor choices. At least for now.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be riding now,¡± Viserys called, his voice breaking Oberyn¡¯s thoughts.


    He nodded, about to respond, when the sound of hoofbeats echoed through the courtyard. Heads turned as a figure emerged from the shaded paths of the Water Gardens, her dark horse cutting an imposing silhouette. Kinvara.


    Her crimson robes caught the sunlight, making her appear as though she carried fire itself. She rode with effortless grace, her red hair gleaming like embers, her smile sharp and knowing as she reined in beside Viserys.


    ¡°You¡¯re leaving without me?¡± she asked, her tone laced with amusement.


    Viserys tilted his head, his gaze flicking over her. ¡°A Red Priestess is¡­ conspicuous,¡± he said, his voice edged with skepticism. ¡°You¡¯d stand out too much.¡±


    ¡°Not if I want exactly that,¡± Kinvara replied, her smile deepening. ¡°I¡¯ll simply say I¡¯m here to preach. What¡¯s suspicious about a woman spreading the word of her god? Besides,¡± she added, her tone softening into a teasing lilt, ¡°you need an identity, don¡¯t you? You can¡¯t just appear in King¡¯s Landing with nothing. My presence will give you credibility should your outlandish powers slip.¡±


    Viserys frowned slightly. ¡°And if they hang you? The largest Sept that worships the Seven Gods is in King¡¯s Landing.¡±


    ¡°Religious leaders have a mutual respect for one another,¡± Kinvara replied, her confidence unwavering. ¡°At worst, they¡¯ll warn me to stop preaching if I gain too many servants. But I won¡¯t gather servants; that isn¡¯t my goal. So I¡¯ll be safe.¡± She glanced at his bleached hair. ¡°And besides¡­ this?¡± She gestured to his hair. ¡°One good rain and your secret are out. You should have asked me sooner.¡±


    Before he could respond, she snapped her fingers. Her hair shimmered, shifting from its glossy black to a sleek, fiery red in an instant. She looked at him, arching a brow. ¡°Easy, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Viserys groaned. ¡°You could¡¯ve told me that before I went through three wigs.¡±


    ¡°It was funny,¡± she said with a grin. ¡°But no more wigs. I¡¯m coming with you. Azor Ahai needs his priestess, doesn¡¯t he?¡±


    Oberyn watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. The priestess was too smooth with him, too confident. Dangerous. She would be a threat to Arianne¡¯s position¡ªDorne¡¯s position¡ªif weren¡¯t a Priestess. Even so, she needed to be kept on watch.


    A sudden idea sparked in his mind.


    ¡°Perhaps I can help,¡± Oberyn said, stepping forward. His voice carried the easy charm he always wielded so effectively. ¡°Varys¡¯ little birds have long wings. Unfortunately, even here in Dorne. They wouldn¡¯t know your secret, I can assure you that much, but they¡¯d notice a Red Priestess traveling from here to King¡¯s Landing. That¡¯s enough to draw suspicion to Dorne.¡±


    Kinvara tilted her head, her smile faltering slightly as she listened. He clapped his hands, and eight girls carrying weapons stepped up. Three among them stood out.


    ¡°But,¡± Oberyn continued, his tone shifting, ¡°if suspicion is inevitable, then let us use it to our benefit. My daughters are skilled in more than just poison. They can fight, spy, and kill when needed. You can take them as your followers with the excuse that they¡¯re servants to the Red Priestess. Their presence will lend you protection¡ªand they¡¯ll be more eyes and ears for you in King¡¯s Landing.¡±


    Ellaria¡¯s hand touched his shoulder lightly, a silent question in her gaze. He met her eyes, his expression softening slightly. Trust me, his look said. She sighed, nodding.


    ¡°U-uncle?!¡± Arianne¡¯s head snapped to look at him, and he ignored her. She was feeling threatened, but he¡¯d explain to her later.


    Both Arianne and Ellaria seemed to understand what he was doing. If not Arianne, then perhaps one of his daughters could secure a place of influence besides Viserys Targaryen. Maybe not as ¡®Queen,¡¯ but as lovers. After all, Ellaria and Oberyn weren¡¯t married either. Yet, she was invaluable to him.


    Viserys considered this, his sharp gaze flicking over Oberyn and then to the Sand Snakes, who had stepped forward at their father¡¯s silent command. The three eldest¡ªObara, Nymeria, and Tyene¡ªstood tall, a step before the others.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Viserys said at last, a faint smile tugging at his lips. ¡°I¡¯ll take the three of them. Too many would just get in the way.¡±


    Oberyn clapped his hands, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. ¡°Three more horses, then.¡±


    The morning ended as five riders rode out through the gates of the Old Palace. Viserys, Kinvara, and the three Sand Snakes¡ªObara, Nymeria, and Tyene. The rising sun cast long shadows across the courtyard, and Doran and Oberyn watched them go, his mind already turning over the threads of his plans.


    One way or another, through one girl or another, Dorne was going to secure a high position in the new Empire that¡¯d be born.


    **


    **


    **

 [17] The Ruler of Stormlands

    Chapter 17: The Ruler of Stormlands


    ¡ª


    The journey from Dorne was more grueling than I¡¯d anticipated. God¡¯s Grace lay far behind us, a few hundred kilometers away, so the journey was getting a bit better. The harshness of the Dornish sun was replaced by the cooler winds as we trudged through Prince¡¯s Pass. The land shifted around us¡ªa place where sand and rock gave way to craggy hills and pine needles underfoot.


    The pass was both a natural marvel and a reminder of just how far the borders of Dorne stretched. We rode in silence, with only the sound of horse hooves accompanying us. I¡¯d almost grown fond of that sound.


    The path curved between steep cliffs, shadowed by jagged peaks that seemed to pierce the sky. Around Kinvara and I, the Sand Snakes rode with ease, their eyes always scanning the trail, watchful for threats. It was Tyene who broke the quiet, her eyes half-lidded in boredom as she glanced my way.


    ¡°What do you think of this, Pri- er, Your Grace?¡± she stammered and asked.


    ¡°I like the gentler wind. Though I have to admit, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to appreciate it this much if I hadn¡¯t experienced the harshness of the Dornish Sun. Anyways, how long do you think we need to travel from here?¡± I asked in casual interest. I already knew the answer. I had naturally done my research before on such a long journey, but it was worth stirring up some conversation with these dour-faced warriors.


    ¡°Another month, maybe less,¡± Nymeria replied, her voice as dry as the land we left behind. It had already been about ten days since we left. ¡°If the gods are kind, Your Grace. Which they usually aren¡¯t.¡±


    A chuckle slipped from Kinvara¡¯s lips. ¡°Not a true statement, Lady Nymeria.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s not argue about our religious views, girls,¡± I put a stop to them. ¡°By the way, just call me Vis since it¡¯d be troublesome if people heard you call me Your Grace,¡± I said, and the Sand Snakes nodded.


    Kinvara shrugged, her gaze moving back to the cliffs above us, unconcerned. Obara grunted something indistinct, the words lost to the steady sound of our horses¡¯ hooves against stone, and the conversation died again, as fleeting as the whisper of wind through the peaks.


    ****


    Two weeks later, we were passing through Summerhall, the land softening into rolling fields dotted with green and gold. We avoided the main roads whenever possible, opting for old trails that twisted through the hills, away from prying eyes.


    Viserion had been hunting wild buffalos and other animals whenever she was hungry, and although that didn¡¯t give me much experience, I still managed to level up a little. I liked how I could receive levels even when she was the one doing the killing.


    === Page [?] ===


    Viserys Targaryen


    The Dragon King


    22 Years Old


    Level 14


    -


    17 STR


    22 END


    17 DEX


    19 INT


    19 LUC


    20 AUTH


    === Page [?] ===


    I was feeling more powerful than ever. It was a good feeling. Soon, I should become the strongest human in the world. But until then, I had to remain cautious and careful. Super skilled warriors like Oberyn Martell still posed a threat to me, enough to perhaps kill me.


    Thankfully, nobody would recognize me even if they saw me, but Kinvara was another question. She had her hair red right now, so they wouldn¡¯t realize that this Red Priestess was the Red Priestess, but still. It was better to be careful since these lands worshiped the Seven.


    Tension lay heavy on our small company now. We were passing through the Stormlands, after all. The territory of one of the Five Kings, who was just nearby. So the Sand Snakes were ever alert while Kinvara smiled to herself as though she were above it all, and as for me... well, I kept my composure. Each passing day brought us closer to the lion¡¯s maw. A place where allegiances were as solid as smoke and just as reliable.


    It was far ahead of Summerhall when the encounter happened. The sudden sound of horse hooves¡ªmany, many hooves¡ªechoed across the rolling hills. A heralding beat that pulled our attention in unison.


    ¡°Horses,¡± Kinvara said softly, her tone a strange tune of curiosity. The Sand Snakes were already moving, hands resting on the hilts of weapons, expressions darkening.


    I pulled my horse to a stop, eyes narrowing, as I positioned myself in front of Kinvara as if to protect her. The banners came into view before the horses did¡ªthe golden rose of House Tyrell beside the stag crowned in gold, the banner of House Baratheon.


    ¡°Stay alert,¡± I said to the girls, although that wasn¡¯t needed. They already were, as the riders spread out as they drew nearer, a formation too neat to be anything but military. They circled us smoothly, not entirely hostile but certainly not friendly.


    Renly Baratheon sat astride a massive warhorse at the head of the company, wearing a crown of golden antlers upon his head, his easy smile a mask of charm. Beside him, on a slimmer palfrey, rode a beautiful woman. I recognized her as Margaery Tyrell, and like Renly, she was a more attractive mirror of her TV Show counterpart. Her gaze was sharp beneath the pretense of politeness. The knights fanned out around them, each of them in glittering armor, the sheen of polished steel almost blinding under the sun.


    ¡°Curious, what have we here?¡± Renly called out, his voice carrying over the distance. He didn¡¯t sound like he intended to harm us. He urged his horse forward, closing the space between us. ¡°Interesting travelers through my lands. Don¡¯t be startled; I simply want to know who exactly crossed my path today.¡±


    Renly Baratheon, one of the Five Kings, the King of the Stormlands, swept his eyes across us, lingering on the crimson robes and hair of Kinvara and then the dark-haired Sand Snakes. He barely shot me a look, which I was thankful for. I had my hair black from Kinvara¡¯s magic, so it wasn¡¯t as if he could recognize me anyway.


    However, it wasn¡¯t as if we were totally safe either. This Kinvara refused to change her robes, so it was hard to hide her status as a Red Priestess. Stannis Baratheon was being helped by a Red Priestess, and if Renly knew about it, he¡¯d automatically view us as enemies.


    The Sand Snakes stiffened, fingers tightening on their weapons. I held up a hand, a signal to keep their blades sheathed¡ªfor now. ¡°Just travelers, my lord,¡± I replied, keeping my tone smooth, almost bored. ¡°Passing through, on our way to the capital.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Your Grace,¡± said a Knight who was riding too close to Renly. Although he wore a helmet, I recognized him as the Knight of Flowers.


    I smirked. ¡°Ah, yes. I apologize, Your Grace.¡±


    Renly¡¯s eyes flicked from Kinvara to me, the faintest quirk of his lips betraying his interest. ¡°Such brave people you are,¡± he said, his gaze returning to Kinvara. ¡°A Red Priestess.¡± His eyes lingered on her. As did the eyes of many others. Nobody, not even Renly and Loras, could deny her beauty.


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    Renly nodded his head in respect. ¡°My lady, I am assuming when he said he¡¯s going to the capital, he and the Daughters of Prince Oberyn are accompanying you to the capital? Should I be worried about the Lord of Light setting his sights on my camp?¡±


    From the looks of it, news of Melisandre the Priestess supporting Stannis, hadn¡¯t spread across the land yet. Otherwise, he¡¯d have been a lot more aggressive to us. Or maybe it was the daughters of Oberyn Martell, as they somehow recognized them, that secured safety for us just by being here.


    Kinvara revealed a soft, composed smile, the one that spoke of secrets and power. ¡°The Lord of Light seeks only to bring his warmth, my lord,¡± she said, her voice honeyed. ¡°No harm shall come to those who respect his grace. Only those who disrespect the One God, no matter if King or peasant will be judged. I am Nyra, a close confidant of Kinvara, the Heart of Fire. So please rest assured, someone like me is not in allegiance with any of the Five Kings,¡± she didn¡¯t lie. I wasn¡¯t one of the Five Kings. ¡°I¡¯m simply having a pilgrimage to King¡¯s Landing in the hope of spreading the Lord¡¯s name.¡±


    ¡°Ah, grace,¡± Renly repeated, his tone laced with a teasing note. He glanced sideways at Margaery. ¡°Grace is a currency we often run short of, isn¡¯t it, my love?¡±


    Margaery gave a delicate laugh, her eyes sharp as they studied Kinvara. ¡°Perhaps. But I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen a priestess quite like you,¡± she said, her gaze dipping to the embroidered flames on Kinvara¡¯s robes. The gorgeous Queen of Ashes smiled. ¡°Such fervor even when you¡¯re standing before the rightful King.¡±


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    Kinvara bowed her head, her smile deepening. ¡°Faith is powerful indeed, Your Grace. It touches even those who resist it. Like this young man, for example,¡± she raised a hand at me. ¡°One of the Second Sons. Doesn¡¯t believe in the Red God, even if he acts otherwise with me, and yet he¡¯s sticking with me. Isn¡¯t that what faith is?¡±


    I winced, not that surprised that she knew my true feelings toward this so-called God. Thankfully, it didn¡¯t seem to change her goal with me. Margaery¡¯s eyes met mine then, and I held her gaze¡ªher smile was kind, almost too kind.


    I wondered if she could see through the guise, if she noticed the mask beneath which lay something entirely different. Of course, that was impossible. If this greedy woman knew I was a Targaryen, she¡¯d have run from Renly and jumped on my horse instead. There was a sharpness in her eyes, a calculating look that reminded me of a cat toying with a bird. She knew we were more than what we claimed, or at least suspected it.


    Renly turned his attention to me, his easy smile unwavering. ¡°And you? You seem more than a simple bodyguard. What brings you to Westeros, my good man?¡±


    I returned his smile, careful not to let the annoyance show. I didn¡¯t respect him¡ªhe was weak, a pretender with dreams beyond his reach. But he was powerful enough, at this moment, to become an obstacle. ¡°The Red Priestess travels where she¡¯s needed. I¡¯m simply here to see her safely to her destination. Don¡¯t ask me why I¡¯m here. Ask my captain, Daario Naharis, why he wants me to protect this pretentious woman.¡±


    Kinvara raised an eyebrow at me, but I just ignored her. As far as she was concerned, I was just playing a character.


    ¡°A noble cause,¡± Renly mused, though his eyes said otherwise. ¡°And a dangerous road. These lands aren¡¯t as peaceful as they once were.¡± S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°We¡¯re prepared for whatever may come,¡± I said, my gaze steady. Beside me, I could feel the quiet readiness of the Sand Snakes, their eyes locked on Renly¡¯s knights.


    Margaery¡¯s voice slipped into the conversation, soft. ¡°You should join us, if only for a night. We¡¯re camped not far from here. I¡¯m sure we could all benefit from a bit of company. The roads are lonely, after all.¡±


    I smiled politely. ¡°Gracious, but no. We¡¯re on a tight schedule, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    Renly raised an eyebrow. ¡°So quick to move on, and yet you¡¯ve nowhere pressing to be. Curious.¡±


    ¡°The Lord¡¯s work is ever pressing,¡± Kinvara interjected smoothly, her tone unwavering. ¡°We appreciate the offer, my lord. But we must keep moving. Time is short, and the light must reach those who need it most.¡±


    Renly watched her for a moment, his smile remaining though the curiosity in his eyes sharpened. He nodded slowly. ¡°Very well. I won¡¯t hold you. But beware, the path ahead grows darker. Friends may turn into enemies when least expected.¡± His gaze held mine, the words hanging in the air like a veiled warning.


    ¡°Wise words, my lord,¡± I said. ¡°Perhaps we¡¯ll meet again under different circumstances,¡± I said, but my eyes were now on Margaery.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Renly echoed before pulling the reins of his horse and turning back to his camp. ¡°Safe travels, Priestess. And remember¡ªKing Renly always appreciates those who recognize true kingship when they see it. We shall meet again when I take King¡¯s Landing.¡±


    He smiled, and then they were gone, the thunder of hooves fading into the distance.


    I waited until they were well out of earshot before glancing toward Kinvara. ¡°Take King¡¯s Landing, he says,¡± I muttered, loosening the annoyed grip I hadn¡¯t realized I still held on my horse¡¯s reins.


    Kinvara¡¯s smile was unfaltering. ¡°An ambitious man, a kind one too. Unfortunately, I don¡¯t think he¡¯s powerful enough. But this encounter did go better than expected. The Lord of Light guides us well, my prince. Trust in his flame.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± I said dismissively, turning my horse toward the direction we were heading. North. Toward King¡¯s Landing. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving.¡±


    The Sand Snakes exchanged glances, Tyene scoffing softly under her breath. I didn¡¯t bother asking what she thought. But as we rode on, the golden fields stretching before us, I felt the tension ease. We were close.


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: Although the Ai Images rarely gets it right, but Kinvara always has a red jewel on the necklace around her neck.


    Come find fellow fans on Discord and more chapters on Patreon! Since Patreon uses the 30-days model now, you¡¯ll only have to pay again on 16th January if you sub today.


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 [18] Red Priestess in Kings Landing

    Chapter 18: Red Priestess in Kings Landing


    ¡ª


    The Small Council chamber of the Red Keep felt like a tomb. Shadows clung to the stone walls, flickering candles in wrought-iron holders doing little to chase them away. The long table gleamed beneath the faint, muted light seeping through narrow windows that were shut tight against the city beyond. The air was thick with unspoken ambition and carefully veiled contempt¡ªa suffocating atmosphere that mirrored the kingdom itself.


    At the head of the table, Varys folded a parchment with practiced calm. His soft, unhurried voice broke the tension as his gaze settled on Queen Cersei.


    ¡°Your father, Your Grace,¡± he said, his tone as neutral as his expression, ¡°has named Lord Tyrion to serve as Hand in his stead while he fights.¡±


    The room froze for a beat. Then came the crack.


    Cersei¡¯s palm slammed against the table with enough force to rattle the wine goblets. The pale skin of her face flushed an angry red, and her lips curled into something vicious. ¡°Out!¡± she barked, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. ¡°All of you¡ªout!¡±


    The members of the Small Council didn¡¯t hesitate. Chairs scraped against stone as they rose, their movements brisk and deliberate. Eyes remained averted, bodies stiff with the instinct of prey. Varys glided out silently, while Pycelle shuffled after him, his robes dragging against the floor in a mournful whisper.


    The door thudded shut, leaving only two behind.


    Tyrion didn¡¯t move. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers curled around the stem of his wine glass. He swirled the dark liquid, the smirk on his lips deepening as he watched his sister from across the table. The silence stretched between them, heavy and electric.


    Cersei¡¯s heels clicked sharply against the stone as she strode toward him. Her golden hair framed her face like a halo of fury, and her eyes burned with venom. She leaned in close, her shadow falling across his face, sharpening her features into something dangerous.


    ¡°How?¡± she hissed. Her voice trembled with barely restrained rage. ¡°How did you trick Father into this?¡±


    Tyrion tilted his head, a chuckle rumbling low in his chest. ¡°Dear sister,¡± he drawled, his tone laced with mockery, ¡°if I were capable of tricking Father, I¡¯d already be emperor of the world.¡±


    For a heartbeat, he thought she might slap him. Her hand twitched, but instead, she straightened, her jaw tight as steel. ¡°He must have lost his senses,¡± she spat, her words clipped and bitter. ¡°To give you that chair¡­ that title¡­¡±


    ¡°Or,¡± Tyrion said, his voice light, ¡°perhaps he¡¯s grown tired of your particular... style of leadership.¡± He raised his glass, his smirk deepening as her jaw clenched. ¡°Let¡¯s call it a fresh perspective.¡±


    Her fists tightened, and the fury in her eyes flared hotter. ¡°You think this is a game, don¡¯t you?¡± she snapped. ¡°Sitting in that chair, playing Hand? You¡¯re no Hand¡ªyou¡¯re a joke. A little jester in a big chair.¡±


    Tyrion shrugged, his gaze growing sharper. ¡°Maybe,¡± he said. ¡°But this jester might just bring your darling Jaime back.¡±


    Her eyes widened¡ªjust a flicker of surprise, quickly masked. ¡°...How?¡± she demanded, her voice quieter now, tinged with doubt.


    ¡°The Starks love their children,¡± Tyrion said smoothly, leaning back as if savoring his words. ¡°And we have one of theirs.¡±


    ¡°Only one,¡± Cersei corrected, her tone brittle.


    He frowned, his smirk faltering. ¡°One?¡±


    ¡°Arya is missing,¡± she said, the bitterness returning to her voice. ¡°Gone. Vanished. That little wolf slipped through our grasp.¡±


    Tyrion swirled his wine, his brow furrowing. ¡°But Sansa remains.¡±


    ¡°Engaged to Joffrey,¡± she snapped. Her lips curled into something cold, and for a moment, her gaze wavered with frustration.


    Tyrion chuckled softly, shaking his head as if pitying her. ¡°It must be hard,¡± he murmured, his voice a low, mocking drawl. ¡°Being the disappointing child.¡±


    Her expression flickered¡ªjust for a moment. A shadow of something raw passed over her face, almost too quick to catch. Then her features hardened, and she turned away, her hands clenched at her sides.


    ¡°Since you¡¯re the Hand of the King,¡± she said abruptly, her voice sharp with forced calm, ¡°I have a task for you.¡±


    Tyrion raised an eyebrow. ¡°I don¡¯t take tasks from you.¡±


    Her smile widened, icy and brittle. ¡°Oh, but you¡¯ll want to.¡± She turned to face him again, her tone laced with venomous sweetness. ¡°Not long ago, a Red Priestess came to King¡¯s Landing. The High Septon wants her dealt with before she spreads her poison. Especially since Stannis Baratheon is said to be receiving advice from a Red Priestess himself. So go, dear brother. Play the Hand.¡±


    Tyrion stared at her, his expression unreadable. Their silence was tight, stretched thin with unspoken hostility.


    Finally, he sighed, setting his goblet down with exaggerated weariness. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with your little problem.¡± He rose from his chair, his movements deliberate, and gave her a curt nod before turning to leave.


    ¡°Good luck, little brother,¡± she called after him, her voice a venomous purr.


    The heavy door shut behind him, cutting off the sound of her laughter like the lid of a coffin sealing shut.


    ****


    ¡°Thank you, thank you, priestess! Praise to the Lord of Light, thank you!¡± A mother said, holding her child close. The boy, who just days ago had lain pale and listless, now clung to his mother with rosy cheeks and newfound strength. The door to the small mansion creaked as she stepped outside, her grateful smile disappearing behind it.


    I sighed. ¡°I thought you weren''t going to collect servants and followers?¡± I said, turning my gaze toward Kinvara, who was still gazing at the door as if she could still feel the gratitude of that mother.


    Kinvara smiled, a soft curve of her lips that held a glimmer of mischief. ¡°I''m not collecting followers,¡± she replied, finally shifting her gaze to me. ¡°I''m just helping the needy. It pains me to see them sick, Viserys. I can''t help it.¡±


    I met her eyes for a moment, holding back the words that rose to my lips. Kinvara had that talent¡ªturning any situation to her favor. The delicate line between genuine care and sly manipulation blurred when it came to her. Just three days was all it had taken for her to find herself a place among these desperate souls. And now, thanks to her ¡®miracles,¡¯ I was practically trapped inside this rented mansion. Since I couldn¡¯t be sure of how to approach my next plans without being sure how the rulers of this city will react to her actions.


    ¡°If you miraculously heal a child,¡± I muttered, settling back in the soft chair near the window, ¡°more mothers will come the next day.¡±


    ¡°Are you planning to build a kingdom where mothers don''t want their children to be healthy, my king?¡± Kinvara''s eyebrow arched in that infuriating way of hers, her lips tugging upward.


    ¡°Stop twisting my words,¡± I shot back, irritated. ¡°Things like this will catch the attention of unwanted people for no reason.¡±


    She giggled, an almost melodic sound that rang with her usual confidence. ¡°Trust me, whoever this will catch the attention of will not be unwanted. Plus, we got ourselves a mansion by saving people, didn''t we?¡± She gestured around us with a flourish. ¡°Be grateful we''re sleeping under a roof, my prince.¡±


    I bit back another sigh, letting my gaze drift to the other side of the room. There, the Sand Snakes were seated, sharpening their weapons with casual expertise. Tyene Sand, with her short-cropped hair and deceptively sweet smile, looked up from her dagger with an unimpressed scoff. ¡°If you truly are serving him, you should listen to what he orders. No?¡±


    Kinvara¡¯s smile never wavered. She turned, her red locks catching the candlelight, glimmering like fire. ¡°The only one I serve is the Lord of Light, my dear. Although, yes¡ªas Azor Ahai, I do serve him too. My job, however, as I see it, is to guide him. Not to follow his wishes blindly, like some¡­ certain people.¡±


    It was clear who she meant. The room suddenly felt colder. The tension rippled between them, the air almost crackling with Tyene''s glare and Kinvara''s ever-present smile. The scrape of metal against whetstone paused momentarily, then resumed, more aggressive than before. Tyene''s eyes remained on Kinvara, a glint of challenge flickering within them.


    I clapped my hands, the sound breaking through the strained silence. ¡°Alright, girls, I¡¯m not having any of this tension between my own people,¡± I said. Especially because I valued the red-haired woman far more than these girls. ¡°I was just complaining for the sake of it. It''s not as if this is disrupting any actual plans. We''ll just figure out some other way to enter the castle.¡±


    The Sand Snakes exchanged glances before shrugging and looking away, dismissing the tension as if it were nothing more than a fleeting annoyance.


    Kinvara scoffed softly, standing up and making her way to the door. She reached for the handle, ready to close it against the world outside. ¡°Mmh-?¡±


    But then the door swung open before her hand could touch the wood.


    Two men entered the mansion. One of them was short and stout¡ªa dwarf with a distinct halo of wild blonde curls surrounding his head, while the other carried a sword at his hip, his gait lazy and confident. Tyrion Lannister, a face even an exile like me could recognize, followed by a sellsword I recognized from the TV show. Bronn, the lucky.


    I stood up from my chair, walked over to Kinvara, and positioned myself beside her, my hand resting lightly on the hilt of my blade. I gave Tyrion a thin smile. ¡°Welcome, guests. Unfortunately, our priestess here doesn''t have a cure for dwarfism,¡± I said dryly.


    Tyrion blinked, staring at me for a heartbeat before snapping a finger at me. ¡°That was actually funny,¡± he admitted, smirking, his eyes crinkling with amusement. ¡°Considering you clearly realize I''m not here for that. Were you seeing patients?¡± He turned to Kinvara.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Kinvara replied, her expression softening into her usual practiced warmth. ¡°And forgive my bodyguard''s rash words. Growing up with the Second Sons molded him this way.¡± She shot me a quick, irritated look¡ªa look that was as much for show as her soft tone.


    Tyrion shifted his weight, studying her for a moment. ¡°So, what can I help you with, Lord Tyrion Lannister?¡± Kinvara asked.


    ¡°Ah, so you do know me.¡± Tyrion smiled, though the smile was tinged with something sharper¡ªcuriosity, perhaps, or skepticism. ¡°Hmm, how do I say this? I¡¯ve recently been appointed as the Hand of the King, a hefty job, and I''ve been asking around about a Red Priestess who seemed to have made herself at home in King¡¯s Landing. Naturally, I had to come to see for myself.¡± He gave a sweeping bow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Now that I have, I¡¯d ask you to leave.¡±


    Kinvara tilted her head, a glimmer of sadness in her gaze. ¡°Because of my religion? I thought Westeros, under King Robert Baratheon¡¯s rule, allowed all kinds of religions to coexist. Is King Joffrey restricting that right now? Pity.¡±


    Tyrion hesitated, his mouth opening and closing for a second before he hummed. ¡°Uh, well, no... but¡­ hmm.¡±


    Kinvara shook her head. ¡°The High Priestess Kinvara sent me here. She¡¯d be immensely disappointed to hear the Church of Light has been banished from Westeros.¡±


    ¡°Kinvara?¡± Bronn piped up, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Of Volantis?¡±


    The mention of the name seemed to settle between them like a rock in a calm pond, ripples of understanding spreading in their expressions. ¡°Yes,¡± she said, ¡°My name is Nyra, one of her close confidants.¡±


    Kinvara had taken precautions¡ªher hair dyed red with a speck of her magic, her identity hidden beneath layers of deception. She played her part well, pretending to be someone else, presenting herself as one of the many priestesses under Kinvara¡¯s guidance. Using her own identity would draw too much attention.


    I turned away, my hand lifting in a dismissive gesture. ¡°Looks like we have to pack,¡± I said with an exaggerated sigh.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Tyrion called, his voice halting my steps. ¡°I¡¯ve heard about the High Priestess before. Quite an enigma, isn¡¯t she? Since she, the First Priestess of the Lord of Light, has sent you here, let¡¯s see... What crimes have you committed again?¡±


    Kinvara¡¯s smile deepened, her eyes almost twinkling. ¡°None,¡± she said softly. ¡°Unless checking on sick children is considered a crime?¡±


    Tyrion Lannister regarded her for a long moment before he smiled¡ªa smile laced with resignation. ¡°No. It¡¯s not.¡± He gave a curt nod. ¡°Have a good day, then.¡± And with that, he turned, Bronn following closely behind, and they were gone¡ªjust like that.


    I looked at their receding back, and smirked. My gaze swept over Kinvara, her composed expression a mask of victory. ¡°So this is what you meant.¡±


    ¡°Did I? Could be a coincidence.¡± She said, and I crossed my arms.


    ¡°Right. Well, now my identity is ¡®clear¡¯ to the higher-ups in King¡¯s Landing. A simple bodyguard of the Second Sons, serving a Red Priestess. Not a bad cover. I should be able to visit the brothel at least now freely.¡±


    Kinvara tilted her head, the mischief returning to her eyes. ¡°Heh. Step by step, my prince. Trust in the Lord of Light.¡±


    I ignored her blabbering and glanced out of the window, the skyline of King¡¯s Landing stretching in the distance, a sight that called out to me.


    **


    **


    ** S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Author Note: Need us some good ol 5-star ratings guys, we looking low.

 [19] Seduction Arts On A Whore?

    Chapter 19: Seduction Arts On A Whore?


    ¡ª


    The narrow alleys of King''s Landing were like a maze. It was a claustrophobic warren of stone, grime, and the combined stink of humanity. It was honestly gross. Do I really want this place back? Yikes.


    The smell was unbearable. Fortunately, it did have an end. I walked through them with my hood pulled low as I navigated the twisting streets away from the smell. This was far different than Volantis, at least on the part I¡¯d visited. The sights of this city, ancient and medieval, were fascinating. Structures like this I¡¯d only seen in pictures, and heavy CGI works. Dirty cobblestones beneath my boots, wooden beams that jutted out from the upper floors of buildings to create strange, leaning streets, all of that was a strange wonder to my modern mind, even with Viserys¡¯ memories.


    The city stank of unwashed bodies and rot, with every corner harboring dark, unknown filth. Yet there was life here, too. The poor, the rich, the beggars, and the lords. All lives that¡¯d one day belong under my foot¡­ soon. I turned down another alley, the din of the marketplace fading behind me as I approached my destination¡ªLittlefinger¡¯s brothel.


    It was evening. The sun had set halfway, and the moon was visible. People were starting to buzz around the place. There was something darkly amusing about all this as I stood under the shadow of the building, smiling up at it.


    Here I was, Viserys Targaryen, the last of a fallen dynasty, entering the lair of a man who was meant to be a major character in a story I had once watched on a screen. With intentions to reclaim the dynasty.


    ¡°The revival of my kingdom is starting from a brothel,¡± I shook my head.


    The door opened with a groan as I stepped inside. Immediately, the heavy, musky perfume of the place wrapped around me, an overpowering blend of sweat, floral oils, and the faintest hint of incense. Girls of all types lounged around, laughing and talking, their voices merging into a soft, constant hum.


    I strode to the center of the room, avoiding bumping into people, while my eyes trailed lazily across the offerings. The madam on duty was a stout woman with heavily painted lips, who approached me, her smile practiced and smooth. ¡°Welcome, my lord,¡± she purred. ¡°What might you be in the mood for?¡±


    ¡°The best girl you have?¡± I asked simply, watching the room.


    The madam¡¯s eyebrows rose, and there was a moment of silence before a young girl¡ªa blonde no older than twenty¡ªgiggled softly. ¡°Can you even pay for the best?¡± she said, her tone half teasing, half skeptical, given my choice of clothes.


    I couldn¡¯t reply as a sharp slap cracked through the room. The madam had moved so fast that even I almost missed it. The young blonde gasped, clutching her cheek, eyes wide as the madam rounded on her, her gaze like steel. ¡°Mind your manners,¡± she snapped before turning back to me, all smiles again.


    The girls began to move closer, surrounding me in a swirl of scents and fabrics. ¡°There¡¯s no one best, my lord,¡± the madam said smoothly, gesturing to the array before me. ¡°All are worthy. Do you like blondes? Redheads? Something petite, perhaps? I can find the best of your taste.¡±


    Hands reached for me, delicate fingers brushing my arms and chest as if to draw my attention. I observed their curves, groping their breasts. ¡°Tall girls, short ones,¡± one of them said, her eyes gleaming. ¡°You¡¯ll find what you need here.¡±


    Will I, really? Of course, I wasn''t here to get my dick wet. I had Kinvara for that. This was a strategic visit. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I was here for someone, and as I glanced around, scanning the faces, I soon found her¡ªa girl sitting by the far side of the room. She was different from the rest.


    I bet on any other day, she¡¯d have acted the same as them, but today she wasn¡¯t trying to catch my eye. She wasn¡¯t even looking this way, too dazed as she was tying her auburn hair back. Ros the Whore. I remembered her from the show, though now she looked softer and more fragile, as well as prettier, her face unlined by the cruelties that would one day come her way.


    How beautiful for a whore, I had to admit.


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    I raised my head, nodding in her direction, and felt the collective sigh of several girls around me¡ªa soft, near-imperceptible sound of disappointment. The madam hesitated, her eyes flicking toward Ros, then back to me. ¡°Ah¡­ well¡­¡±


    ¡°My lord,¡± the blonde girl from earlier began, her voice almost pleading, ¡°Ros isn¡¯t feeling well today. Perhaps another?¡±


    Before she could continue, Ros¡¯s voice cut through the murmurs. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Lyris,¡± she said, standing, her face expressionless. She stepped forward, her posture straight. Her body was great, and her eyes locked on mine with a quiet defiance. ¡°I¡¯ll take the job.¡±


    The madam gave her a wary look but said nothing. I held back a smile, merely nodding, allowing her to lead the way. Ros moved ahead, her steps steady, her hand gesturing for me to follow her up the winding staircase that led to the private chambers.


    I followed, the other girls parting for us, their eyes following our ascent¡ªa mix of curiosity, envy, and perhaps even pity. Ros led me down a narrow hallway, opened a door to one of the rooms, and stepped aside for me to enter first.


    The door closed softly behind us, and the night and the city waited just beyond.


    *****


    ¡°So what would you like to start with, ser?¡± Ros asked, her voice smooth and practiced, leading me inside the room. She gently nudged me onto the bed, her movements deliberate, her demeanor polished with years of experience.


    The room smelled faintly of incense¡ªa thick sweetness that attempted to disguise the musty undertone of too many bodies passing through. The bed, with its rich crimson drapes and silken sheets, looked inviting but somehow hollow, like all things gilded and hollowed out with use. Flickering candles in the corners threw shadows that danced across the stone walls, casting a certain warmth that wasn''t truly there¡ªa place where charm and emptiness went hand in hand.


    Ros was smiling now, and to most, it would look sincere. But it was hard to act in front of me¡ªmy stats, and perhaps just my experience, made it almost amusingly easy to see the edges of her weariness.


    She wore more makeup today than I imagined she normally would. A bit of powder under her eyes, too much kohl to hide what lay beneath.


    A swelling¡ªthe kind that came from tears shed not too long ago. I had heard the news of Joffrey''s latest cruelty while wandering the city earlier: the slaughter of bastards, the senseless killing of children, of mothers left wailing in the streets. It wasn¡¯t hard to recall the scene where Ros cried over one of those unfortunate babies¡ªa friend¡¯s child. Just like in the show. And Petyr Baelish... well, he hadn¡¯t made it any easier.


    This is good, I thought, the timing is just perfect. Holding back a smile, I corrected her, ¡°I¡¯m no Ser,¡± I said. ¡°What do you usually do for your customers?¡±


    Alright, crazy question. How do you seduce a whore?


    **


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    Author Note: This is a tribute to Ros, I liked her character a lot, and she didn¡¯t deserve her end. We¡¯ll be focusing on some influence-building chapters from here on out, which might feel slow but necessary for the story. This is not a ¡®go kill king, take throne¡¯ story, after all. But we¡¯ll focus on the action soon again!

 [20] Spreading A Network

    Chapter 20: Spreading A Network


    ¡ª


    ¡°I¡¯m no Ser,¡± I said. ¡°What do you usually do for your customers?¡±


    She blinked, her smile widening, her eyes flashing briefly with something sly. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re the talking type~¡± she giggled. It was a fake, airy sound¡ªthe kind meant to charm a stranger. ¡°Well, usually I start by...¡± she leaned closer, whispering a litany of acts, her tone dripping with the seductive allure she was famous for.


    I laughed softly, letting the sound drift between us, the echo swallowed by the walls. ¡°Sounds fun,¡± I said, sliding my hands away from her waist, my fingers brushing the silk of her dress as I let go. ¡°But, tonight¡­ I think I''ll take you for the whole night, Ros.¡± My words made her eyes light up briefly with hope. ¡°But first, I want to talk. Get to know each other. It''s dull to just fuck and leave, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    She stilled, her gaze lingering on my face as if trying to gauge my intentions. She tried to hide it, but the flicker of irritation was unmistakable. She wanted to get this over with. ¡°Trust me, love, the night will be far from boring,¡± she purred.


    I laughed again, louder this time. ¡°If all I wanted was a quick drain of balls, Ros, I¡¯d have done it with my hand in the privacy of my own quarters. I came here to find a woman for a reason. Women are charming¡ªthey¡¯re more than just bodies. They¡¯re stories. They¡¯re someone to brag to, to laugh with. Sex is just¡­ a fraction of that.¡±


    She giggled, something real slipping into the sound. ¡°So you want to brag about yourself? Go on then, traveler,¡± she said, her head tilting as her smile turned teasing. ¡°You¡¯re not from here, are you?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Sharp eyes.¡±


    ¡°A necessity in my line of work,¡± she replied, arching an eyebrow. Her gaze carried a hint of mischief, her curiosity piqued despite herself.


    I leaned back, making myself comfortable, one arm resting behind my head. ¡°Yep, from Essos actually,¡± I said and launched into my story, spinning a web of half-truths and careful lies¡ªhow I was part of the Second Sons, which she didn''t know about, so I had to explain how companies of sellswords worked in Essos, and how the Second Sons was a big name among them.


    I told her why I was here, that I''d passed through Dorne earlier, traveling alongside a rather fervent Red Priestess. ¡°She¡¯s good at ruining the mood,¡± I added with a grin. ¡°When all a man wants is to have his balls empty and a night to himself, she¡¯s there talking about some Lord of Light¡ª¡±


    Ros¡¯ giggle interrupted my story, it was a sound more real than before. ¡°I can imagine. A priestess isn¡¯t exactly who a man like you would want to travel with, is it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said, sighing dramatically. ¡°I wanted to sleep with her once, but¡­¡± I paused, my lips quirking upward. ¡°Apparently, ''fire'' isn¡¯t just metaphorical.¡±


    She laughed out loud, her head falling back, her eyes crinkling in amusement. The tension she carried seemed to dissolve with each shared laugh, each joke exchanged. Her earlier impatience had faded entirely, and her body had lost the stiffness from before. She rested her head on my arm, her red curls brushing against my skin as she nestled closer, her body relaxed against mine. I could feel her breaths evening, her laughter still lingering.


    ¡°So,¡± she murmured, her fingers trailing down my chest, ¡°how about you show me the dragon in your pants, hmm?¡± Her hand slipped lower, but I caught her wrist, stopping her.


    Her gaze darted up, confusion sparking in her eyes. ¡°You want to talk even more? It¡¯s been hours.¡±


    ¡°And the night is far from done,¡± I replied, my tone light. I let my fingers trace her wrist, my eyes holding hers. ¡°Besides, I¡¯ve been the one talking all this time. I want to hear about you, Ros. It¡¯d be dull to just fuck after talking so much about me, especially with someone like you. Tell me¡­ what¡¯s been weighing on you? Why were you sad earlier?¡±


    She blinked, the smile on her lips faltering, her expression hardening slightly. ¡°Ah¡­ traveller, if you¡¯re not in the mood, I can call someone else¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said quickly, cutting her off. ¡°I¡¯m in the mood for you. You''re gorgeous. But more than that, I want to understand why the woman I¡¯m going to spend the night with is sad. What happened?¡±


    She frowned, her eyes narrowing at me, and then she grinned. It was a cynical grin that barely hid the bitterness underneath. ¡°Oh, I see. You¡¯re into that, aren¡¯t you?¡± she said, her voice dropping, a mocking edge creeping into her tone. ¡°You want the sad story of the whore, so you can feel like a hero when you fuck her¡­ thinking, oh, how great I am, making this broken woman smile and moan again. Is that it?¡±


    Her words hung in the air, biting, the bitterness sharp enough to cut. Her eyes widened as she realized what she¡¯d just said, the venom she¡¯d let slip. She tried to pull away, her body stiffening, but I burst out laughing¡ªa genuine, full-bodied laugh that filled the space between us, diffusing the tension.


    Ros stilled, staring at me, then hesitated before a small smile crept onto her lips, growing into laughter of her own. She shook her head, her laugh growing freer I pulled her, and she rolled with me on the bed, her laughter infectious, carrying away the sharpness of her words.


    ¡°Ah, you do have a way with words,¡± I sighed, the laughter fading from my lips as I sat up, reaching into my coat. I pulled out a small pouch, tossing it beside her. It landed on the mattress with a soft jingle.


    She blinked, her gaze flicking to the pouch before back to me. I nudged my chin toward it, and she hesitated before reaching for it, her fingers loosening the strings. Her eyes widened at the amount inside¡ªmore than any single night was worth. She looked up at me, surprise written across her face.


    ¡°Your payment,¡± I said, my voice softening. ¡°For tonight, let''s suppose we¡¯ve already slept together. Now, entertain me with your story, Ros. Why is such a pretty face like yours sad, yet still forced to work?¡±


    She stared at me for a long moment, her expression softening, her eyes shimmering with something unspoken. She sighed, sitting up, her gaze drifting down to her hands. ¡°You said you¡¯re from Essos, right?¡± she began, her voice quieter now, almost unsure. ¡°Fair why you won''t know.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯ve only been in King¡¯s Landing for a little while,¡± I said, lying on my side, my eyes never leaving hers. ¡°What happened here, Ros? What¡¯s got you like this?¡±


    She hesitated, biting her lip, her eyes flicking away. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s the crown,¡± she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°The crown¡¯s ordered¡­ they¡¯ve been killing all of Robert Baratheon¡¯s bastards.¡± She paused, her gaze lowering, her voice breaking slightly. ¡°My friend, Mhaegen¡­ her baby¡­ it wasn¡¯t even his. She¡¯d never been with the King. But they killed him anyway. They killed so many¡ªso many babies, innocent children, just because they might be his¡­¡±


    Her voice cracked, her eyes filling with tears, her breaths shuddering as she spoke. I sat up, reaching out, my hand running gently through her hair, my other arm pulling her closer. She looked up, startled at the gesture, her eyes wide, her tears spilling over. I didn¡¯t say anything, just held her, her trembling form pressed against me as her sobs finally broke free.


    She cried against my chest, her body trembling with the force of her grief. ¡°They dove a dagger through the poor baby''s heart¡­ for nothing,¡± she whispered, her voice muffled against my shirt. ¡°And now I¡¯m here, pretending everything is fine¡­ working like it¡¯s just another day¡­¡±


    ¡°The man who runs this place¡ªhe¡¯s got to be a piece of shit, making you work like this,¡± I muttered, my voice darkening.


    She froze, her body tensing against me. She hesitated, pulling back slightly, her gaze flicking up to mine, a conflicted look in her eyes. She shook her head, her voice wavering. ¡°He¡¯s¡­ he¡¯s not a bad man. He¡¯s done a lot for me¡­ for all of us.¡±


    She was lying¡ªI could see it in her eyes, hear it in the way her voice wavered. But I liked that about her. She was smart, cautious, unwilling to speak ill of Baelish to a stranger. That was why I was here tonight¡ªnot to claim her body, but her loyalty, to make her a seed, someone I could trust, someone who could become my eyes and ears against Littlefinger and the rest of King¡¯s Landing.


    ¡°If he¡¯s so kind,¡± I said, my voice soft, ¡°why not stop working here? Become his assistant, or a manager, or something. Surely, you¡¯re capable of more than¡­ this.¡±


    She hesitated, her brow furrowing, her gaze dropping. ¡°You think¡­ someone like me could do that?¡± she murmured, her voice almost lost to the shadows.


    I reached up, ruffling her hair gently, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. ¡°You¡¯re stronger than you think, Ros. You could have let those girls take me, avoided working tonight, but you didn¡¯t. You have ambition. You should use it.¡±


    She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering, her lips parting slightly. ¡°You really think¡­?¡±


    ¡°At least try,¡± I said, smiling. ¡°I think you can do it.¡±


    She blinked, her eyes softening, her lips curling into a hesitant smile. ¡°Sure¡­¡±


    ¡°And don¡¯t worry about anyone else coming for you for the next few days,¡± I added, lying back on the bed, pulling her down beside me. ¡°I¡¯ll come here every night. I¡¯ll hire you, and we can just¡­ talk. You can work on becoming his assistant during the day, and at night, I¡¯ll be here, keeping everyone else away. Sound good?¡±


    She stared at me, her eyes wide, her lips parting, then she smiled¡ªa real, soft smile, one that reached her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ a strange man,¡± she whispered, her voice filled with something I couldn¡¯t quite place. She nudged closer, resting her head against my chest, her body relaxing against mine.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said, wrapping an arm around her, my gaze drifting to the ceiling, a smirk tugging at my lips. At this rate, I¡¯d have her loyalty soon enough.


    ¡°But for now¡­ sleep, Ros. I¡¯ll take care of it if someone looks for you, and everything else.¡±


    She sighed softly, her body sinking into mine, her breaths evening out as she drifted to sleep, her warmth seeping into me. I lay there, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, my smirk widening.


    I guess this was a step towards the beginning of my own personal spy network. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    **


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    Come find fellow fans on Discord and more chapters on Patreon!


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 [21] A Hopeless Romantic

    Chapter 21: A Hopeless Romantic


    ¡ª


    The light came in softly through the small window, muted by the dust that clung to the glass. It was morning.


    Ros blinked against the thin, gray dawn, her senses slowly coming to life. There was warmth beneath her, a lingering heat where his body had been. She sat up, the sheets slipping away, her hand brushing across the empty space beside her. He was gone.


    Of course, he was. What did you expect, Ros? She thought, the corners of her mouth twitching into a small, sad smile. She wasn''t surprised. Men like him¡ªrare, strange, kind¡ªthey never stayed. Especially not in places like this.


    Still, despite herself, she found her eyes roaming across the room, glancing at the shadows where the early light had yet to reach. The dim corners were empty. She sighed and let her shoulders slump, bringing her palm up to meet her forehead in a slow, tired slap.


    "Ugh, I didn¡¯t even ask his name..." she muttered, a sigh escaping her lips. A part of her hated herself for even caring. He was a customer, after all¡ªjust another man with coins in his pouch. Yet, it didn''t feel like that, did it?


    Her mind whispered back, and she had no answer. No answer except the quiet ache in her chest, an emptiness that hadn''t been there when she drifted off, wrapped in his warmth.


    Outside the door, life was already picking up. The clamor of voices, the shuffle of feet on worn wooden floors, the madam''s sharp bark as she wrangled the morning shift. Ros rubbed at her eyes, trying to shake off the heaviness that clung to her limbs. Life was calling her back, as it always did, pulling her from the warmth of that fleeting moment into the cold, indifferent reality of King''s Landing.


    She glanced back at the empty side of the bed, her fingers curling into the sheets, feeling the slight indentation where he had been. A man like that... he was rare. She had never spent a night like that before¡ªa night where there were no demands, no expectations, just laughter and stories shared between strangers. Compared to her usual nights, a night where she could simply be herself, where she could cry and laugh without the weight of performance, it had felt like... heaven.


    Her fingers tightened on the sheets, and she bit her lip. Would he come back? He said he would, but men said a lot of things, didn¡¯t they? Promises whispered in the dark, forgotten by morning. She knew better than to hope. Hope was dangerous.


    Hope was what got girls like her killed or worse¡ªbroken. And yet, she couldn''t help it. There was something about him. Something that made her want to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was different.


    She sighed, shaking her head, her auburn hair falling into her face as she tried to shake the thoughts away. Stupid girl, she chided herself, forcing her feet to the floor, the cold wood biting into her skin. You should know better by now. He probably won''t come back. He probably forgot you the moment he walked out that door. She told herself that over and over, trying to bury the tiny flicker of hope that refused to die.


    But deep down, in the quiet part of her heart that still dared to dream, she wanted him to come back. She wanted another night like that¡ªanother chance to be just Ros, not Ros the whore, not the girl in the brothel, but just... her.


    She stood, wrapping her arms around herself, staring at the door. The morning was waiting for her, and so was the world.


    Life was moving on, as it always did, dragging her along with it. But for a moment, just a moment, she allowed herself to linger in the warmth of last night, the memory of heaven she had touched, however briefly, before she stepped back into the cold reality of her life.


    "Don''t be stupid, Ros," she whispered to herself, the words barely audible over the noise outside. "He¡¯s not coming back." But even as she said it, she couldn''t quite convince herself.


    With one last glance at the empty bed, she turned away, the faintest of smiles tugging at her lips. Maybe he wouldn¡¯t come back. But maybe he would. And that, that tiny maybe, was enough to keep her going¡ªenough to bring a spark of warmth to the cold morning as she opened the door and stepped back into the world.


    That night, he returned like a Prince from her dreams.


    ****


    You know what, seducing a whore was surprisingly easy. Just give her something different than what the usual men gave them.


    Well¡­ then again, that advice worked for all women, didn¡¯t it? Attention, care, the illusion of being seen¡ªany woman was vulnerable to these if done just right. But anyhow, that wasn¡¯t the point.


    The last two weeks had slipped by, marked by my routine visits to the brothel. Each evening, I would return to her, hiring Ros for the entire night. The look in her eyes changed to more endearing after each visit.


    I honestly expected it to take longer since I wasn¡¯t some pickup artist back in my old world, and my System didn¡¯t have the Charisma stat. But maybe the 20 AUTH made up for it?


    There had been some instances where the nobility of King¡¯s Landing had tried to compete, trying to outpay me for her services¡ªbut alas for them, I had the capital of Dorne behind me. No lord or knight was going to outbid me. Not when I had the luxury of gold flowing like water from the sun-kissed deserts.


    Ros, meanwhile, had been working just as I had envisioned. Raising herself out of the rut that was being a simple whore, striving to become something more¡ªsomeone more. In just these two weeks, she¡¯d managed to position herself to be more than another warm body to be used by the patrons of Baelish¡¯s house of sin. She¡¯d been pushing herself, taking up tasks that weren¡¯t assigned to her, managing the other girls, helping with the paperwork, and being everywhere at once. And today, finally, she¡¯d made real progress¡ªpromoted from a regular whore to a Madame.


    Meaning, she didn¡¯t have to sleep with a customer if she didn¡¯t want to. This meant she was now in charge of others and able to delegate and command. She had power¡ªa taste of it¡ªand the hunger in her eyes told me she wanted more.


    And I would give it to her, slowly, like a piece of bait dangling just beyond reach, enticing her to keep striving forward.


    ¡°Hey¡­¡± Ros¡¯s voice brought me out of my thoughts, a soft whimper near my ear as she lay beside me, her breath tickling my skin. She was lying on her side, her red hair spread across the pillow, her leg thrown over my hip, her lips brushing my ear. ¡°When are we actually doing it? I don¡¯t mind, you know?¡±


    I glanced at her, a smile tugging at my lips. ¡°I told you,¡± I said, shrugging, ¡°I¡¯m not going to do it as long as it requires payment.¡±


    She pouted, her brows furrowing. ¡°I told you I don¡¯t mind,¡± she said, her voice a little husky, a little needy.


    ¡°I do,¡± I replied, my tone light. ¡°Get more promoted. Be fast about it. And then¡­¡± I leaned over, brushing my nose against hers, feeling her breath hitch, ¡°I¡¯ll give you the dragon that you want.¡±


    She giggled, biting her lip, her eyes glinting with mischief. ¡°You know,¡± she said, her fingers trailing down my chest, ¡°I¡¯d have thought you were limp down there if I hadn¡¯t felt that thing for myself with my hand. I can¡¯t wait to have that big boy¡­¡±


    I laughed softly, shaking my head as her face moved closer, her lips parting. ¡°A kiss, at least?¡± she whispered, her voice playful yet almost pleading.


    I nodded, and she wasted no time. Her hands cupped my face as she pulled me in, her lips crashing against mine, her kiss filled with hunger¡ªa need that was as much about desire as it was about something deeper, something she likely didn¡¯t even realize she was yearning for. My hands wandered her body, tracing the curve of her waist, groping her ass, giving it a playful slap that made her moan into my mouth.


    She pulled back, her eyes darkened with lust, her voice husky as she asked, ¡°You sure you don¡¯t want me bouncing on you already?¡±


    I grinned, lifting a finger and pressing it to her lips. ¡°Be a good girl, be patient,¡± I said. Her lips parted, and instead of replying, she took my finger into her mouth, her eyes locking onto mine as she began to suck on it, her tongue swirling around it.


    ¡°Whatever you say¡­ my love,¡± she murmured around my finger, her voice muffled, her eyes never leaving mine.


    ¡°Call me master,¡± I corrected, my tone soft but firm. ¡°I like that more.¡±


    Her eyes widened for a brief moment before a grin spread across her lips, and she pulled my finger out of her mouth, her voice a purr as she said, ¡°Sure thing, master.¡± She leaned in again, kissing me once more, her body moving, grinding on top of me, her breath hitching as her hips moved, seeking friction.


    ¡­.


    Morning came with a soft light filtering in through the curtains, the city outside beginning to wake. I stood at the edge of the bed, buttoning my shirt, my eyes flicking to the woman sprawled across the sheets, her hair a fiery halo against the pillow.


    Ros yawned, stretching, her eyes blinking open, still heavy with sleep. ¡°You know¡­¡± she murmured, her voice groggy, ¡°you shouldn¡¯t come from tonight forward.¡±


    I paused, raising an eyebrow at her, an amused smile playing on my lips. ¡°Damn, you get a promotion and already discarding me?¡±


    She scoffed, sitting up, her eyes rolling. ¡°You know it¡¯s not like that,¡± she said, pulling the sheet around her bare shoulders. ¡°The deal was you¡¯d come every night to hire me so other men couldn¡¯t. But now that I¡¯m a Madame, I can ignore others¡¯ requests on my own. I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t want you wasting your time on me. I know you¡¯re a busy man.¡± She looked at me strangely for a moment and then joked, ¡°Plus, you have those Sand girls to seduce,¡± she giggled before growing serious again. ¡°Anyway, if you don¡¯t come, I can spend that time working, speeding up my promotions.¡± sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°Not a bad plan.¡±


    She hesitated then, her eyes flicking down, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the sheet. ¡°Once that¡¯s done¡­ we could go out for dinner¡­ maybe? One day?¡± Her voice was quiet, almost shy, as she glanced up at me through her lashes.


    I looked at her for a moment, her uncertainty almost endearing, and then smiled. ¡°Of course, my dear,¡± I said, my voice soft.


    Her face lit up, her lips curving into a smile that reached her eyes, and I felt a flicker of something¡ªsomething almost like satisfaction. I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, my fingers brushing through her hair. ¡°Take care, Ros. And be smart. Remember what we talked about.¡±


    She nodded, her eyes serious, her lips pressing into a determined line. ¡°I will,¡± she whispered.


    With one last glance, I turned, pulling my hood over my head as I stepped out of the room, the door clicking softly shut behind me. Another piece moved on the board, another step taken towards what was rightfully mine.


    **


    **


    **

 [22] The Red Keep

    Chapter 22: The Red Keep


    ¡ª


    The narrow alleys of King¡¯s Landing twisted before me, the early morning light barely piercing the filth-ridden maze. My hood was pulled low, shadowing my face, but my spirits were light, lighter than they had been in a long while.  Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The brothel, or rather, Ros, had proved useful.


    The city¡¯s grime, the stink of humanity mixed with rotting waste, all seemed less intrusive today, for my successes with her made me care less about everything else.


    I turned down a narrow street, the walls looming high on either side, the brick stained dark by years of neglect. My feet carried me towards our small hideaway, a mansion tucked neatly into a forgotten corner of King¡¯s Landing, inconspicuous but comfortable. Well, for our purposes at least. We got it for free when Kinvara cured the sick child of a lord, and he gifted this place to stay, so I couldn¡¯t really complain.


    Even with Dorne backing me, I was mostly just a bum. As I neared, something caught my eye. A glint of polished metal, sunlight bouncing off the armor of several guards. Their uniforms were concerning with a stark blue and gold, the sigil of the crown emblazoned on their chests.


    Royal guards.


    I felt a prickle of curiosity, raising an eyebrow as I watched them for a moment. What business do they have here? Tyrion had returned without issue, so why were these bastards at my doorstep?


    I pulled my hood tighter, slipping through the narrow side gate. The door was already open, the guards¡¯ presence weighing tension in the air.


    Inside, the hall was quiet, the flicker of sunlight throwing dancing shadows against the stone walls. I found Kinvara safe, draped in her crimson robes, her hair falling in waves, a soft smile playing at her lips. She looked regal as though she were a  Queen, far too used to these moments of power and pressure.


    Her gaze flickered to me, her eyes flashing with a mix of amusement and something else¡ªa tension that buzzed beneath the surface. ¡°Dearest bodyguard,¡± she called.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake early,¡± I said, closing the door behind me, the wood groaning softly. My eyes drifted to the guards standing at attention, their hands resting loosely on the hilts of their swords. I assumed that the Sand Snakes were still asleep since they were not here.


    ¡°The Queen Regent,¡± Kinvara began, her voice smooth, as though she spoke of the weather, ¡°has extended an invitation.¡± She turned fully to face me, the fabric of her robes shifting around her like liquid fire. ¡°Or at least, that¡¯s what they called it. Calling it a summon seems more fitting.¡±


    Cersei Lannister? I wondered, my curiosity piqued. ¡°Heh¡­ Does the Queen need guidance in the ways of fire and light?¡±


    Kinvara¡¯s eyes sparkled with something close to mischief. ¡°She might be beyond the Lord¡¯s light,¡± she murmured only loud enough for me to hear, ¡°but nonetheless, she demanded an audience. And I¡¯m obliged to comply. Would you like to join me, Vis?¡±


    The question was casual, her tone light, but it was a great opening. She knew I was looking for a way into the castle, and there were few ways better than this.


    I smiled, the answer forming before she had even finished speaking. ¡°Even if I wasn¡¯t your bodyguard, I¡¯d never turn down an invitation to the Red Keep,¡± I said, stepping closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear. ¡°Especially not one that comes from the Queen herself.¡±


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d say that,¡± she said softly, inclining her head towards the door where the guards waited. ¡°Let¡¯s go then. The Queen awaits, and we wouldn¡¯t want to keep her waiting.¡±


    ¡°Follow us,¡± one of the royal guards said. We moved together, the guards falling into step around us as we exited the mansion. The streets outside were slowly coming alive, vendors setting up stalls, children darting between them, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. We walked at a brisk pace, Kinvara¡¯s robes trailing behind her, her steps graceful, uncaring of the lustful gazes of the guards as their armor clinked softly in rhythm.


    The Red Keep loomed ahead, its towers piercing the sky, its walls casting long shadows over the bustling streets below. I stared at it for a moment. This was where my ancestor Aegon the Conqueror first landed and built his base; his son Maegor the Cruel saw it completed. The Red Keep was made by Targaryens for Targayens, but most of all, it was my¡­ home.


    The guards led us through the gates, their expressions stern. The atmosphere shifted as we entered the outer gates of the castle. It was a sudden quiet, the city¡¯s noise fading into a distant hum. The halls were cool, the air heavy with the scent of stone and torch smoke.


    I walked beside Kinvara, our escort of palace guards leading us deeper into the belly of the beast. I kept my hood low, my face hidden. It wasn¡¯t like anyone would recognize me anyway, but old habits die hard. On the other hand, Kinvara moved with an elegance that made her seem almost out of place in this grim stronghold¡ªher robes flowing, her step light, her head held high. She looked as though she owned the place.


    In her mind, she probably did. And perhaps that was why the guards glanced at her with an odd mixture of awe and fear at the woman¡¯s confidence.


    Kinvara¡¯s presence drew eyes even among those accustomed to royalty, and her graceful smile was always on her lips. People looked at her, servants, members of high standing, lords that¡¯d come to visit the castle, and we ignored them all as we walked through halls that I¡¯d dreamt of before. Halls I recognized from my childhood.


    We were soon brought to a grand door that looked designed to impress more than function simply. I didn¡¯t hate it. It was nostalgic¡­


    The Red Keep was as cold and uninviting as I remembered from my childhood, but at least it felt like home. I didn¡¯t feel like a trespasser. The last time I¡¯d set foot here, I was five, and it¡¯d already been seventeen years¡­


    The guards paused, and one of them stepped forward, knocking briefly before pushing the door open. His voice echoed into the chamber beyond as he announced us.


    ¡°The Lady Nyra, Priestess of R¡¯hllor is here, Your Grace,¡± he said, his tone dull. I caught a flicker of blonde hair through the gap of the door and green eyes flickering to look at us from inside.


    ¡°Invite her in,¡± a feminine voice called, and the guard nodded. He then glanced at me and seemed to decide I didn¡¯t warrant any introduction.


    ¡°You heard her,¡± the guard said, and Kinvara moved forward, her robes swaying, a smile playing on her lips. She shot me a brief glance before stepping through the doorway, her eyes flashing with something between amusement and tension.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be alright. No need to worry,¡± she murmured in a low voice. ¡°Rather, try not to cause trouble today, mhm?¡± She asked, and I gave her a long look.


    She knew why I¡¯d chosen King¡¯s Landing rather than the other Kings. I wanted to kill Joffrey. I just smirked at her words. ¡°No promises.¡±


    She gave me a half-warning and half-amused look before she stepped through the door, the heavy wood closing behind her, leaving me in the hallway with the guards stationed nearby.


    The guard moved to close the door behind her, stepping in front of me as if to emphasize my lack of importance. ¡°You wait here,¡± he said, barely glancing at me. His voice was gruff and dismissive.


    I shrugged, not bothering to argue. ¡°As you wish.¡±


    I leaned back against the cool stone wall, my arms crossing over my chest as I looked around. The hall was grand, as one would expect of the Red Keep, but far too empty. I could hear distant voices, the muted clatter of movement deeper within.


    The boredom set in faster than expected. I glanced at the guards, both staring straight ahead, their faces expressionless. I shrugged, turning around. They didn¡¯t seem like they¡¯d stop me so there was no point standing around waiting, not when the Red Keep had so much to explore¡ªso many secrets to uncover. And¡­ so many people to meet.


    I slipped away from the guards, my steps quiet against the stone floor, my curiosity pulling me deeper into the keep. This was an opportunity that I wasn¡¯t about to waste.


    **


    **


    **

 [23] Winter is Coming, My Lady

    Chapter 23: Winter is Coming, My Lady


    ¡ª


    Seventeen years. That was how long it¡¯d been.


    For the first few minutes, I still couldn¡¯t believe I was walking through its halls again. Back then, I wasn¡¯t heir. It was Rhaegar, my older brother, who was the crown prince. No matter how much I bragged about it, I was never fated to inherit any of this. But now, I was working toward it.


    ¡°A few more, and I¡¯ll have it all back¡­¡± I muttered to myself. I observed the area well, recalling the changes compared to when all of this belonged to my family. The winding and labyrinthine corridors seemed to swallow all warmth, shadows stretching out as if eager to consume those who dared to enter.


    The early morning light did little to penetrate the walls of red-painted stone, and the few torches flickering along the corridor were nothing more than trembling flames. The air was chill, the atmosphere charged. This was a place where whispers thrived and death came in silence.


    I walked slowly through these hallways, reaching out a hand to pluck an occasional flower or two from the garden that reached to this floor through the large windows. There was no rush. Just a man stretching his legs, exploring the corners of a place that held far more secrets than most could fathom.


    The Red Keep was a maze. A place built on old, twisted bones, each corridor leading to more doors and secrets. I didn¡¯t know what I was looking for, but that was the fun. I was just wandering, searching for fate to hand me a situation on a platter.


    I moved lightly, avoiding the guards and their suspicious stares. My hood pulled low over my face, and the thick carpets beneath my feet muffled my steps.


    Turning another corner, I paused. My long walk finally came to an end. There, standing before one of the tall windows, her gaze fixed on the city below was a lone figure. Her auburn hair caught the early light filtering through the dusty glass, glowing like fire.


    So many girls around me are red-heads, I counted as I watched her. She was dressed in rich silks, deep greens and somber blues, the fabric hanging heavily, almost swallowing her tall frame. It took me a moment to recognize her. Sansa Stark, Queen to be of Joffrey.


    I stepped closer, my steps slow. She seemed lost in thought, her eyes distant as they traced the skyline of King¡¯s Landing. I could almost see the turmoil in her¡ªa thousand worries pressing on her shoulders, weighing her down, even in her stillness. I closed the distance, my lips quirking as I watched her.


    ¡°Very dangerous to stand so close to the window,¡± I said, my voice cutting softly through the silence.


    She startled, her head snapping around, her eyes widening in surprise. Fear flickered across her features for a moment¡ªa flash of vulnerability that was easy to read. The daughter of Eddard Stark, alone in the lion¡¯s den. She blinked at me, her gaze trying to make sense of my sudden appearance.


    I smiled, tilting my head slightly. ¡°You might fall, my lady,¡± I added, keeping my tone light.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Her voice came out in a soft breath, her words caught off guard. She straightened, stepping back from the window¡¯s ledge, her hands nervously smoothing the front of her dress. ¡°Who¡­ who are you? I haven¡¯t seen you in the castle before.¡±


    ¡°Just a visitor,¡± I said, giving her a small nod. ¡°Vis is my name,¡± I added after a pause. No titles, no introductions. Let her wonder who I was. ¡°And you¡­ you must be Lady Sansa.¡±


    She blinked, the wariness not entirely leaving her expression. ¡°How do you know my name?¡± she asked, her voice soft, almost timid. That was a stupid question, but I just guessed she was startled.


    I smiled, stepping closer, my gaze flicking briefly to the window before returning to her. ¡°Everyone knows your name, my lady. You¡¯re quite famous¡ªa Stark of Winterfell, here in King¡¯s Landing.¡± I kept my voice smooth, my words gentle, as if I were offering her some small comfort.


    Her lips pressed together, her gaze dropping briefly to her hands. She was nervous, unsure of me. The girl was far from who she¡¯d become one day, merely a step down a brat, but she was getting there. Also, she looked older. How could that be? In the show, the only reason her marriage with Joffrey was postponed was because she hadn¡¯t started to bleed yet. But here, she was definitely an adult already. Why was the marriage not held yet, then? S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here,¡± she said, her voice gaining a little strength. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous to talk to me. If what you¡¯d come to the palace for is dealt with¡­ leave.¡±


    ¡°Dangerous?¡± I echoed, my smile widening. ¡°For whom, me?¡± I laughed.


    She hesitated, her brow furrowing. ¡°For you, yes. If J- the King finds you here¡ª¡±


    I waved a hand, dismissing her concern, my eyes glinting with amusement. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Lady Sansa. Besides, I rather enjoy the thrill of it. This place¡­¡± I glanced around the dim corridor, the heavy stone walls, the tapestries lining the halls. ¡°It feels familiar, although I can¡¯t pinpoint why.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°If Eddard Stark was here, he¡¯d have been able to answer that, I¡¯m sure,¡± I said, smirking at her as she frowned in confusion. I was just playing with her, but her eyes searched mine, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but she held back.


    I could see the questions in her¡ªthe curiosity, the uncertainty. She was wary of me, and yet, she was drawn in by what I was implying. That her father would recognize me if he was here. It wasn¡¯t often that someone approached her like this¡ªwith no clear agenda, no demands, just curiosity.


    ¡°You¡¯re not from¡­ here, are you?¡± she finally said, her voice quiet.


    I smiled. ¡°Interesting question. Let¡¯s just say I¡¯m¡­ passing through.¡± I let my gaze drift back to her, my smile softening. ¡°And you, my lady? Do you enjoy being here? In the heart of it all? You, who were so very excited to be Queen when the prospect was first proposed. You, who begged your mother to convince your father to accept King Robert¡¯s deal.¡±


    ¡°...¡± She hesitated, her eyes flicking away. ¡°I¡­ it¡¯s not what I expected,¡± she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a sadness in her eyes, immense sadness. ¡°I am curious about who you are. Are you not going to answer?¡±


    ¡°Today is not the day, my lady. As for your failed expectations, the Red Keep has that effect on people,¡± I said, my tone shifting as if I were sharing a secret. ¡°It¡¯s not quite as grand as the stories make it out to be, is it? It¡¯s like a prison.¡¯


    She looked up at me, her eyes widening slightly, a flicker of something like agreement passing through them. For a moment, just a moment, she seemed to let her guard down, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles. ¡°...Yes. It¡¯s a prison, indeed. A rotten one.¡±


    I laughed and blinked. My eyes glanced down the corridor. Footsteps¡ªthe heavy, deliberate tread of guards. I saw Kinvara walking with them, smiling calmly. Her talk with Cersie seemed to have gone without any issue, meaning my time here was up.


    I turned back to the older Sansa, giving her a small, charming smile, my gaze meeting hers. ¡°Take care, my lady,¡± I said, my voice soft. ¡°Stay away from dangerous windows. Even if you don¡¯t fall, you might catch a cold. After all,¡± I smiled, ¡°Winter is coming.¡±


    Her eyes widened, confusion turning to hope, but before she could say anything, I turned, my hood pulled low as I slipped into the shadows.


    The guards came into view, their eyes sweeping the corridor, but I was already gone from Sansa. Just another ghost in the labyrinth of Red Keep, who soon joined with Kinvara.


    ¡°Where were you?¡±


    ¡°Plucking flowers.¡±


    So, we left the Keep. Pity I didn¡¯t stumble upon Joffery today.


    Then again, perhaps this wasn''t the best time for me to kill him. As a king, he''s more of a troublemaker, not useful. If I were to kill him, it''s not as if I could just sit down on the throne right there and take it. No, I''d be hunted by the entire country, first, and secondly, the Lannister would just crown Tommen instead.


    After all, this wasn''t a "kill the king and take the world" type of power fantasy.


    Tyrion Lannister was in King''s Landing, serving as the Hand. Tommen would listen to the man, which would immediately make him a more competent King than Joffrey ever was. I didn''t want that.


    In a scenario like this, the best course of action is to wait for the best opportunity to kill Joffrey. Not only when it was safe for me, but when killing him would do the most damage.


    For example, maybe when the fleets of Stannis Baratheon would attack?


    That''d throw the entire battlefield into chaos, after all. And I could just kill Stannis, unworried about a Tommen situation there.


    If not that, then some other perfect time to kill the twat that was Joffrey. Sadly, today was not that day.


    **


    **


    **


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 [24] Why’s My Dragon So Small?

    Chapter 24: Why¡¯s My Dragon So Small?


    ¡ª


    I wasn¡¯t worried about Kinvara and Cersei''s meeting at all, and as expected, she came out unharmed. The Queen was simply double-checking if Kinvara wasn¡¯t helping Stannis. By the end of their talk, she determined ¡®Nyra¡¯ was unrelated to Westeros''s numb, useless politics.


    I was glad they didn¡¯t find her suspicious and hang her, but then again, I doubted they could, even if they wanted to. The woman was not the Mountain, but her powers surely surpassed them all for her to be walking this earth for however long she was.


    A few days passed since that incident, and I hadn¡¯t received any other chance of entering the Red Keep. I was not skilled enough to infiltrate it, plus I had no reason to take such a risk. Instead, I decided to focus on my dragon for a bit rather than the politics.


    The mansion¡¯s atmosphere was tight. All the windows were drawn shut, the doors locked and sealed. If this had been the dead of night, maybe someone with ears sharp enough would hear it¡ªthe sickening crunch of bones, the wet, visceral tearing of flesh.


    It would have sounded monstrous.


    Which... wasn¡¯t far from the truth.


    A dragon was feasting, its teeth ripping through the bloody carcass of a freshly slaughtered sheep.


    Viserion¡¯s serpentine neck curled and uncurled as she gnawed at her meal, her scales glistening faintly even in the dim room. Her claws dug into the meat as if she were guarding it. It was hard to read a dragon¡¯s expression, but with her eyes narrowed, half-lidded, that could only be satisfaction.


    I stood beside her, my hand resting on the curve of her neck. I felt her muscles shifting beneath my palm, the deep vibrations of her growl as she ate.


    I enjoyed that. This was my dragon; the more she ate, the stronger she would be. The stronger I would be. I wasn¡¯t the only one watching Viserion feast. I glanced over at the Sand Snakes. Unlike me, they were watching from a distance, standing just outside the circle of shadow thrown by the dim lanterns.


    Nymeria¡¯s eyes were wide, a flicker of reverence etched into her features. Tyene stood beside her, a hand pressed over her mouth, suppressing a fascinated and unnerving smile. Obara was the furthest back, her stance more guarded, but there was no denying the awe. This creature was a legend made flesh, and it was growing bigger and fiercer each time they bore witness to her feeding. The wonder never quite dimmed.


    Kinvara was busy doing some priestess bullshit in the city, so it was just us here.


    Viserion was getting larger. It was growing evident with each passing week. Soon, it would be impossible to keep this girl confined in this old, small mansion''s shadows. We got it for free, after all, so it was barely livable. The room was too small. She was too big.


    And more than that, she needed to grow under the open sky, under the sun and the moon, in the wild, where she could hunt and soar without restraint. This was no place for a dragon.


    ¡°You¡¯ve seen her eat a dozen times now,¡± I said to the girls, my voice breaking the silence. It startled them, and Nymeria blinked, tearing her eyes away from the dragon. ¡°I¡¯d think by now you¡¯d be used to it.¡±


    Nymeria gave a sheepish grin, shrugging a shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s still... something,¡± she replied, shrugging. ¡°Listen, you won''t understand since you own her.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± I shrugged.


    Tyene nodded quickly, her eyes flicking back to Viserion, who continued her feast without a care. ¡°She¡¯s getting so big,¡± she whispered. ¡°Soon, she won¡¯t fit here. Any plans for when that happens?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I was thinking the same, actually,¡± I said, my tone thoughtful, my gaze moving to the dragon¡¯s form. ¡°But in truth, she''s growing very slowly for my taste. I''m worried.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± The girls raised their eyebrows.


    It¡¯d been a bit more than three months since she hatched, but she was only the size of a horse. I couldn¡¯t be sure if her growth speed was greater than my sister¡¯s dragons, but I didn¡¯t feel she was that larger. What was the Dragon System doing? Well, it certainly did affect her. She was a bit different from the dragons of this world; she had four limbs and two wings, unlike those of this world, which were basically wyverns. I presumed just that difference made her stronger than the other dragons of her age, but I still wanted her to grow bigger.


    I was hoping she¡¯d shadow over King¡¯s Landing in a year. But at this rate¡­


    I sighed. I knew from the beginning that if Viserion stayed cooped up in this mansion, her growth would be stunted. Was that the only reason for her slower growth? Dragons weren¡¯t meant to be fed in cages.


    They were meant to hunt, to kill, to feel the thrill of the chase. I remembered Tyrion¡¯s words when he was quoting the Maesters¡ªhow he thought Dany¡¯s dragons in Meereen didn¡¯t grow because they were kept confined. A dragon¡¯s true nature could only be realized in freedom.


    I looked back at the Sand Snakes, and a moment later, an idea found me. ¡°I think I¡¯ll be taking her out,¡± I said, my tone casual. ¡°Been a while since she flew around.¡±


    The girls glanced at each other, then back at me. Obara was the first to speak, her voice gruff. ¡°Out? Out where?¡±


    ¡°The Kingswood,¡± I said simply. She needs to hunt real prey¡ªsomething more challenging than a dead sheep. Plus, I also need to hunt.¡± I had to level up and get Spearmanship to a higher grade.


    My skin was slightly tougher than normal, but I was not invincible. An arrow could still pierce me where Ellaria¡¯s thrown knife hadn¡¯t. I couldn''t let myself be delusional about my powers. Not yet.


    Tyene opened her mouth, her expression one of immediate objection, but I held up a hand. ¡°No,¡± I said firmly. ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. But none of you is coming.¡±


    Nymeria frowned, stepping forward, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Why not?¡± she demanded. ¡°I wanna see¡ª¡±


    ¡°If someone sees me, I can hide,¡± I interrupted, my gaze steady. ¡°If someone sees Viserion, I can make her disappear.¡±


    ¡°Yes, so what¡¯s the issue?¡±


    ¡°The more people involved, the harder it becomes to cover our tracks,¡± I said, looking at each of them in turn. ¡°Plus, no point in risking you all unnecessarily.¡±


    There was a beat of silence, the Sand Snakes glancing between each other. Obara¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn¡¯t argue. Tyene sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly, her disappointment evident, but she nodded.


    Nymeria, however, still looked unconvinced. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± she asked, her voice quiet, her eyes searching mine.


    I smiled faintly, my hand brushing against Viserion¡¯s scales. ¡°I¡¯m sure. I can handle this. Besides,¡± I added, my tone turning lighter, ¡°it¡¯s not as if I¡¯ll be alone.¡± I glanced at the dragon, her jaws closing around the last of her meal, her golden eyes blinking lazily at them. ¡°I¡¯ve got her, haven¡¯t I?¡±


    I had a nuke to protect me.  S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Nymeria¡¯s gaze softened, and she sighed, giving a small nod. ¡°Fine. But you be careful,¡± she said, her tone carrying a hint of warning. ¡°And come back fast. Don¡¯t make us have to come looking for you.¡±


    I chuckled, pushing myself away from the wall, my hand resting against Viserion¡¯s side. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of it,¡± I said, giving them a nod before turning my attention back to the dragon. I ran a hand down her gold scales. ¡°Alright, girl. Let¡¯s get you out of here.¡±


    ****


    I met Kinvara in the city and let her know about my decision. She had no objection. But we were too busy to chat in-depth, as she was preoccupied with talking with the poor. Queen Cersei wished her good luck at the end of their talk, saying that since she wasn¡¯t friends with Stannis, she wanted Priestess ¡®Nyra¡¯ to spend her time helping the poor.


    It was more of a test to see her be busy doing work rather than spying around or something. So for now, she¡¯d have to focus on this. By the time of Renly¡¯s death, I expected her to regain her freedom.


    Then, I dropped by Littlefinger''s Brothel.


    The brothel was buzzing with daytime energy. It was noisy and lively, with girls lounging around, laughing, and sharing idle gossip.


    Heavy perfumes mingled with the smell of aged wood and alcohol. It was a different kind of atmosphere from the evenings, less desperate and more relaxed. As I entered, the laughter and chatter of the brothel whores softened, and eyes turned to me, some curious, some amused.


    A young girl, the same blonde who¡¯d questioned my wealth before, caught my eye, her lips curving into a teasing smile. She put her hands on her hips, her voice lilting with amusement as she spoke. ¡°My, it¡¯s Ros¡¯ prince charming. Should I call her for you?¡±


    I laughed, a genuine chuckle escaping my lips. ¡°Yes, please, I have something to tell her,¡± I replied, watching as she scurried off to fetch her.


    It didn¡¯t take long. Soon enough, Ros stepped out into the main room, her eyes finding me easily, her lips curving into a smug smile as she crossed her arms. Her auburn hair framed her face, her presence commanding without even trying.


    ¡°I thought you agreed not to visit me anytime soon?¡± she called out, her tone playful, yet her eyes betrayed a glimmer of warmth. ¡°So impatient, are we?¡±


    She was cute, I had to admit that. ¡°Not impatient,¡± I said, moving closer until we were just a few steps apart. ¡°I¡¯m heading out of King¡¯s Landing for some work, so I thought I¡¯d drop by. Just in case you worried when I didn¡¯t show up.¡±


    Her smile faded just slightly, her brows knitting as she uncrossed her arms. ¡°Ah,¡± she blinked. ¡°Going out? What for?¡±


    ¡°Just some work,¡± I said casually, dismissing the worry in her eyes.


    Ros frowned, her lips pressing together for a moment, her eyes searching mine. ¡°Is it a sellsword mission?¡± she asked quietly, a hint of concern breaking through her usual mask. ¡°Will you¡­ will you be alright?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help the amused scoff that left me. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, girl,¡± I said, giving her a reassuring smile. ¡°You¡¯ve no idea how strong I am.¡±


    ¡°Robert Baratheon was strong,¡± came a voice from behind that made the room go still. The laughter faded, and every girl nearby straightened, eyes shifting towards the source.


    Lord Petyr Baelish stepped into view, his expression one of practiced ease, a smile playing at his lips¡ªa smile that never quite reached his eyes. ¡°And yet, he died to a boar,¡± he continued, his tone light, casual. ¡°So, it never hurts to be careful, my friend.¡±


    ¡°Lord Baelish,¡± Ros said quickly, bowing her head. Her tone was respectful, though I could see the tension in her shoulders. I simply returned his gaze with a small smile, my head tilting slightly in acknowledgment.


    Baelish¡¯s eyes flicked over me, his smile widening just a touch. ¡°I am happy. A member of the Second Sons,¡± he said, his voice almost admiring. ¡°How fortunate that you took a liking to one of my girls.¡± He glanced at Ros. ¡°I do hope you treat her well. I haven¡¯t seen her so elated since she joined us. She¡¯s also quite productive lately. A remarkable change.¡±


    I kept my smile, nodding. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that,¡± I said, my voice pleasant. ¡°I hadn¡¯t expected to come across such a fine girl, either. Your establishment certainly lives up to its reputation, my lord.¡±


    He laughed. It was a soft, smooth sound that somehow felt sharp, like the edge of a blade. ¡°Indeed,¡± he said, his eyes still on me. ¡°Please give my regards to the Red Priestess, Mister¡­ Vis,¡± he said. ¡°And do be careful, wherever you¡¯re headed. I¡¯d hate for Ros to be saddened by any unfortunate news of your demise.¡±


    With that, he gave a slight bow, then turned, his footsteps fading as he moved away, leaving the room quieter than before. I scoffed under my breath.


    I watched his back, my smile fading into something more thoughtful. Ros stood beside me, her expression guarded. Her eyes followed Baelish until he disappeared from view.


    ¡°Your superior¡¯s something,¡± I muttered very low so that only she could hear, turning back to her. ¡°Instead of sounding genuinely worried, it was almost as if he¡¯d prefer me dead. What a man.¡±


    Ros opened her mouth and hesitated as her lips pressed into a tight smile. Then she nodded, whispering, ¡°Yeah¡­ I didn¡¯t like how he worded it either. Why did he have to mention Robert Baratheon like that? Ugh¡­¡± She scowled, shaking her head. I held back a smile. Good, she trusted me enough to reveal her true opinion about the man. ¡°But yes, do be careful. When can I expect to see you again?¡±


    ¡°A week, I¡¯d say,¡± I replied, my tone light, teasing. ¡°If I¡¯m late, then assume I¡¯m dead for real.¡±


    She scowled again, glaring at me, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Don¡¯t joke about that,¡± she snapped, but her voice had no real anger¡ªjust worry. Poor girl was in love.


    I was starting to feel a little bad now for playing with her feelings. But promise, if she agreed to work for me after I¡¯d reveal my true allegiance, she¡¯d be happier than the happiest whore in the world. She¡¯d become a big shot in this world.


    I laughed, reaching out to brush her hair back from her face. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said softly. ¡°I¡¯m really tougher than I look. I¡¯ll prove it to you one day. On the night of our dinner date?¡± I added, winking at her.


    She giggled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting,¡± she said, her voice softening, her eyes meeting mine.


    There was a flicker of something in her gaze¡ªsomething that made her hesitate before she leaned forward, pressing her lips to mine in a brief, tender kiss.


    The girls around us gasped dramatically as I returned it, my hand resting on her waist for a moment before I pulled back, giving her one last smile before I turned away, making my way out of the brothel.


    It''d been weeks since she stopped seeing customers, so I didn''t hate kissing her. Ah, poor girl, I thought, feeling the sweetness of her lips. If only she knew that she was being used.


    But hey, she couldn''t hate me for it. I was saving her from the inevitable death she¡¯d face to Joffrey. Just¡­ she¡¯d have to become my information broker. I hoped she¡¯d not make a foolish choice when the time came.


    Ros followed me to the door, watching as I mounted my horse. Her eyes never left me as I rode away. The city stretched out before me, and soon, I found myself in Kingswood.


    **


    **


    **

 [25] Weak Human

    Chapter 25: Weak Human


    ¡ª


    The path to the gazebo was strewn with sand and stone as she walked beside Jorah, her gaze fixed ahead. Her mind swirled with uncertainty as she approached the gazebo. Dany¡¯s dragons were missing, many of her blood riders dead, and every promise of safety from Qarth¡¯s grand city gates had turned out to be nothing but dust.


    With a storm brewing in her heart, she smelled the scent of seawater mixing with the acrid stench of blood as they came to a stop. Before them stood a gazebo framed by four pillars. Under its shadow, a woman was wetting a paintbrush, dipping it into a goat''s skull filled with fresh blood.


    ¡°Ser Jorah, the Andal.¡± The masked woman spoke without looking up, her attention on painting a strange pattern across a man¡¯s bare back. Dany watched the strange process. The blood trickled down his skin, and he remained eerily still.


    Is she a sorceress? She wondered. Maybe she should return, then. She didn¡¯t like sorcerers, for one had claimed her husband¡¯s life.


    The masked woman, whose name was Quaithe according to Ser Jorah, continued her work as she spoke. ¡°This man must sail past Old Valyria. All who travel close to the Doom need protection.¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t come here to talk about protection,¡± Jorah grunted, stepping forward, his eyes flicking uneasily over the blood-soaked scene.


    ¡°I know,¡± Quaithe replied, her voice calm. Her eyes, the only visible part of her face through her mask, turned towards Daenerys. ¡°You¡¯re here for your dragons.¡± Her gaze was as though she could see right through her, past the uncertainty and exhaustion, to the desperation she fought to hide. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Daenerys¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Jorah¡¯s hand went instinctively to the hilt of his spear. ¡°You have them?¡± he demanded, voice edged with suspicion. ¡°Where are they?¡±


    ¡°Draw your spear.¡± Quaithe paused her painting, her gaze shifting to Jorah, her voice holding a challenge. ¡°See what your steel is worth here.¡±


    ¡°Ser Jorah, enough,¡± Daenerys¡¯ jaw clenched, and she stepped between them. She placed a hand on Jorah¡¯s arm, feeling the taut muscles beneath the fabric. He tensed but obeyed, stepping back, though his eyes never left Quaithe.


    ¡°Do you have my dragons?¡± Daenerys asked, her tone steely, her patience frayed.


    Quaithe tilted her head slightly, her movements unhurried. ¡°I do not, princess.¡±


    The air thickened with tension, and Daenerys clenched her teeth. She looked at Jorah, sighing. ¡°Another loose end,¡± she said, a note of frustration creeping into her voice.


    ¡°Not a loose end. You were led here for guidance,¡± Quaithe said simply. ¡°You seek your dragons, but they are only a part of your path. You must seek the last of your blood. Alone, you can¡¯t achieve your goals.¡±


    Daenerys frowned, her eyes narrowing. ¡°The last of my blood? Much of my blood was slaughtered in this city,¡± she snapped, her words cold. The blood of her blood, a large number of her loyal Dothraki, had perished.


    ¡°They¡¯re not your blood,¡± the woman shook her head. ¡°Your blood is the blood of dragons, and they are mere barbarians. They¡¯re not who I¡¯m talking about.¡±


    Dany scoffed. Was this woman insane? ¡°If you mean Viserys, he must be dead in some desert and good riddance.¡±


    Quaithe scoffed softly. ¡°Stubborn as ever. The Targaryens must stand together, princess. He¡¯s not dead, he has one of the dragons, and you will need him.¡±


    Dany stared at her. One of the dragons? Not just the egg? She couldn¡¯t be sure what this woman meant, but her decision was final. ¡°I need no one but my dragons,¡± Daenerys shot back, turning to leave. This was nothing but another cryptic waste of time. And if Viserys was indeed alive, the first thing she¡¯d do to him after finding him was burn him to ashes.


    She had lost much¡ªstarting with her husband, her child, and then her blood riders. Why should she look for Viserys, who had never been anything but cruel? No, wasn¡¯t it due to him that Drogo died? When he forced Drogo to let him escape by blackmailing the child in her womb, the entire Dothraki saw Drogo as a weakling. That must be why one of those blood riders dared insult and challenge him, prompting him to get that wound that ultimately led to his demise because of that witch¡¯s betrayal.


    In one sense, it wasn¡¯t the witch¡¯s fault, nor was it Dany¡¯s for trusting that witch. It was her brother¡¯s fault, that useless piece of human trash. The last of her blood? It was good to know that he was alive. Because she¡¯d kill him with her own hands one day.


    Quaithe¡¯s voice cut through the air, stopping her mid-step. ¡°Heh. Do consider my words, Princess. But as for your dragons,¡± she said, ¡°while I do not have them, I do know where they are.¡±


    Daenerys paused, her heart thudding, her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she turned back, eyes wide with a glimmer of hope. ¡°Tell me,¡± she demanded, her voice low.


    ****


    The sun had dipped beneath the horizon, leaving the world draped in twilight as I slid off my horse¡¯s back. The edge of Kingswood stretched out before me, and impossibly high silhouettes of trees cast long, wavering shadows across the earth.


    The stillness of the evening hung heavy in the air as if the entire forest held its breath, waiting for what was to come.


    The forest at night was just how I wanted it. It was quiet, dark, and most importantly, without prying eyes. If someone had decided to wander into Kingswood by chance, they¡¯d see nothing but shadow. And shadows, I could handle.


    Plus, Kingswood was the private hunting ground of the King, so it was safe for me to bring Viserion here since nobody else would be here to hunt. Joffrey was busy in the capital.


    I led my horse to a small thicket, tying the reins loosely around a low-hanging branch before turning back to face the woods.


    Dany White neighed softly, its eyes showing a mix of exhaustion and unease, its nostrils flaring as if sensing what lurked in these woods. I patted its neck briefly, muttering a quick reassurance. ¡°Stay put. I¡¯ve got something bigger to handle.¡±


    With that, I stepped away, making my way deeper into the trees. The path was littered with fallen leaves and the occasional half-buried stone, and the night air grew cooler with each step. My boots crunched against the underbrush, but I didn¡¯t try to move quietly. There was no need for stealth tonight.


    The forest seemed to shift around me, the darkness growing thicker, almost tangible. My senses were on high alert, picking up the scattered movements of animals in the distance. I picked on the soft rustle of leaves as nocturnal creatures skittered about. My senses were far sharper than those of a normal man. I wondered just how strong I was. I didn¡¯t quite understand my limits, but I never bothered to test them since I kept getting stronger each level up.


    Regardless, my senses allowed me to move around the forest without confronting danger as I scouted the area. The forest was fascinating, really. Seeing animals larger than what I remembered from Earth, their glowing eyes watching from the shadows, cautious but unafraid. Stags, larger than anything I¡¯d ever seen before. Wild boars, their tusks gleaming even in the dim moonlight.


    But those weren¡¯t my prey tonight.


    I found a clearing soon enough. It was a break among the cluster of trees, an opening large enough for what I intended. The moonlight filtered down through the gaps, throwing silver beams across the forest floor.


    I exhaled, spreading my palm and facing the air. The air trembled, and space-time cracked. It split, revealing darkness on the other side, with a flash of golden.


    It wasn¡¯t even a heartbeat later that she burst forth¡ªViserion, a blur of shimmering scales and feral energy. She didn¡¯t greet me, the rude girl, as her wings beat down, propelling her upward with a rush of wind.


    Leaves stirred around me, ruffling my hair as I watched her ascend. She let out a roar that was a deep, resonating sound reverberating across the clearing. It silenced everything.


    She took to the sky, her form disappearing against the dark canvas above, her golden wings a blur against the stars. I stepped back, my eyes fixed on her silhouette as she hovered, her head turning, surveying the land beneath her while fire slipped from her nostrils.


    I had chosen this clearing because it was away from the densest part of the forest, away from the chance of setting the entire forest ablaze. But as Viserion let out another roar, diving down with a burst of speed, flames spewing forth from her jaws, I couldn¡¯t help the slight pang of uncertainty that crept into my thoughts.


    The fire lit up the clearing, turning night into day for the briefest moments.


    Huh.


    Maybe the night wouldn¡¯t matter if someone truly was around. They¡¯d see the dragon to all her glory, and rumors would spread like wildfire. Shit. Starting next time, I had to visit even further than Kingswood. Somewhere less occupied.


    The deer scattered, some caught by the flame, their cries echoing as they fell, the forest floor alive with chaos. The air reeked of smoke, the heat of the fire licking at the nearest branches, but the trees remained, for now, untouched.


    I stood back, watching as Viserion descended upon the carcasses, her eyes glinting, her snout lowering to feast. She grabbed it with her jaw and took off to the sky, vanishing. I couldn¡¯t help but grin. I didn¡¯t have a proper army yet, but I felt invincible when I saw a sight like this. She was powerful, more powerful than anything in this world, and she was mine.


    ¡°Rargh!¡± My body jolted as a roar came from behind me. It wasn¡¯t from Viserion; no, it was something else. Instinct took over as I spun, hand already reaching for my spear from my Inventory.


    The sound was guttural and full of fury, and my eyes locked onto the source. It was a tiger, larger than anything I had ever seen before¡ªeven larger than Viserion. Well, that wasn¡¯t a surprise considering she was only as large as a horse right now. The tiger¡¯s eyes glowed in the dark, its muscles rippling beneath its striped fur as it stalked forward, lips pulled back to reveal sharp teeth.


    I drew my spear, the blade glinting in the moonlight, my stance shifting as I readied myself. I was strong¡­ but could I beat a tiger in 1v1? I felt like a madman as I faced it.


    The tiger growled, its eyes locked on me, and I could feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins. This was not a fight I had anticipated, but it was one I would face.


    The tiger lunged, muscles coiled like a spring, its eyes fixed on me. My grip on my spear tightened, my body moving instinctively. I was ready to test my limits. But before I could even swing, a shadow passed overhead, a deafening roar echoing through the clearing.


    ¡°Groarghh!¡± Viserion came crashing down from above, her jaws opening wide as she unleashed a burst of fire. The tiger barely had time to react, its roar turning into a strangled cry as the flames engulfed it, the heat searing through fur and flesh. The beast fell, its body crumpling to the ground, smoke rising from the charred remains.


    Viserion didn¡¯t hesitate. She pounced on the still-smoking carcass, her jaws snapping down, tearing through flesh and bone. I watched, my heart still pounding, my spear still in my hand, as my dragon feasted, her growl echoing into the night.


    And then something happened, something I couldn¡¯t have anticipated. Viserion lifted her head, her eyes turning towards me, the flames still flickering around her jaws. Her lizard-like gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw something in them¡ªsomething intelligent.


    She narrowed her eyes, her head tilting slightly, and then, to my utter disbelief, she spoke. ¡°...Weak¡­ human,¡± she growled, a guttural, loud voice that made the leaves tremble. It sounded like the eruption of a volcano.


    I stared in disbelief as her deep voice resonated through the clearing. Her words were harsh but not dripping with disdain, and her spelling sounded like that of a child trying to copy something she¡¯d heard.


    ¡°....?¡± I stared, stunned into silence, my grip on my spear loosening.


    Before I could even comprehend what had just happened, Viserion spread her wings, pushing off the ground with a powerful beat. The wind stirred the leaves around me as she took to the sky once more. I stood there, alone in the clearing, my eyes following her form as she disappeared into the night, her words still echoing in my mind.


    Weak human.


    The clearing fell silent, the only sound the distant crackle of the fire still smoldering. I lowered my spear, exhaling slowly, my mind still reeling. So my dragon could speak. That was new. And despite the [Respect] bar being high, she was a moody little lizard.


    ¡°...That girl needs to respect her elders,¡± I laughed. Finally, the Dragon System was doing its job.


    [Image Here]


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    **


    **


    **


    Come find fellow fans on Discord and more chapters on Patreon! As Patreon now uses the 30-day payment method, if you sub today, you¡¯ll only have to pay again at the same date of next month.


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 [26] It’s Hunting Time

    Chapter 26: It¡¯s Hunting Time


    ¡ª


    The moon hung heavy above Kingswood, casting a pale glow over the forest. Viserion''s scales gleamed like liquid gold as she moved, darting between the trees with a lethal grace that was mesmerizing, her wings flapping.


    Her form flickered between shadow and light, her presence a force that the forest seemed to acknowledge if not outright fear. Animals scattered before her¡ªboars, deer, bears¡ªall fleeing the hunter that had no rival.


    I watched from a distance, leaning against an old oak, my gaze fixed on her form. There was something hypnotic in the way she moved, the way her muscles rippled beneath her shining scales. She was stronger now and also more dangerous. ¡°Dany¡¯s dragons don¡¯t stand a chance,¡± I scoffed to myself.


    And yet, a worry twisted inside me, a nagging thought at the back of my mind. How long until she became something even I couldn''t control?


    That was probably a needless worry, given that the System allowed me to see her mindset, but still¡­


    === Page [3/3] ===


    Dragon Management System [S]


    You can manage your dragons here. You can see their location, hunger rate, and also their respect toward you. You currently own [1] Dragon, ¡®Viserion¡¯.


    Location: Kingswood, Crownlands, Westeros.Hunger: 98%Respect: 94%


    === Page [3/3] ===


    It was 93% back in King¡¯s Landing, and now it¡¯d grown to 94%. Thanks to this page, I could tell when to give in to her whims to raise that percentage. So as long as I kept my eyes open, I should be able to avoid her from fleeing from my side.


    Viserion wasn¡¯t fully satiated yet, though. So she was still hunting. She let out a low, guttural growl, slamming into a bear. The beast barely had time to react before her teeth sank deep, a roar turning into a strangled silence. The ground trembled with each beat of her wings.


    [You¡¯ve leveled up!]


    I watched with a small smile. My dragon, my power¡ªa fragment of Old Valyria¡¯s glory. It was only a matter of time before I conquered this land.


    But I wasn¡¯t here just to watch. I had my own plans tonight.


    Quietly, I turned and slipped into the underbrush, letting the forest swallow me. My steps were light, my senses sharp, every rustle of the leaves and crack of a branch heightened in my ears. The night was alive to all my senses, filled with the scurry of creatures, the distant snapping of twigs, and the subtle breaths of animals moving cautiously in the dark.


    ¡°Grgh¡­¡± A boar emerged from the shadows, its tusks catching the moonlight, its small, dark eyes scanning the surroundings. I stilled myself, bringing out a spear in my hand. I hesitated, and then I deposited the spear back into the Inventory. I should test my strength.


    The boar roared and charged. I positioned myself to tackle it. With one swift movement, my fist found its mark, slamming between its eyes. The impact resounded across the area, making the leaves tremble. The boar let out a shrill squeal before collapsing, and satisfaction flooded through me.


    [You¡¯ve killed a boar.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    The notifications blinked before my eyes, but I wasn¡¯t done yet. There was more prey in these woods, and I planned to push myself further. I moved on, finding a stag, its antlers spread like a crown. It charged at me, but I dodged to the side, adrenaline surging through my veins. One strike. Then another.


    Its horn shattered first, and its skull split next.


    [You¡¯ve killed a stag.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    The stag crumpled to the ground, the weight of its body landing with a finality that echoed in the silence around me. My breath came in short bursts, not because I was tired but because I¡¯d been nervous. It was a fearsome foe. My muscles were taut, and my heart was hammering in my chest.


    ¡°Whew,¡± I breathed out and laughed a little. This was good. I was strong, much stronger than an average man. ¡°Not yet on the level of the Mountain, I think?¡± I muttered.


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed an Ash Wolf.]  S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed an Ash Wolf.]


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed an Ash Wolf.]


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed an Ash Wolf.]


    [Your dragon, Viserion...]


    [.....]


    ¡°Looks like she found a whole pack.¡±


    I watched the notifications continue.


    [.....]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve leveled up!]


    [You¡¯ve reached Level 20!]


    [Your Old Valyrian blood has strengthened.]


    [Your levels are close to a breakthrough¡­!]


    Something shifted in the air. The forest seemed to hold its breath. I blinked, my gaze growing sharper somehow. The night grew less dark, and I could see better. Before I could fully register what was happening, the night went bright, this time not because I could see better but because of something else. My head snapped to Viserion.


    She had paused, her eyes narrowed, and her body began to glow. Bright, blinding gold light spilled out from her scales, turning the night into day. The glow was almost too intense, and I felt a pang of alarm. She was too exposed, too visible.


    ¡°Viserion!¡± I shouted, breaking into a sprint toward her. The light hurt my eyes as I got closer. ¡°Stop it!¡± She looked at me, her gaze defiant. I could see it¡ªshe didn¡¯t want to listen.


    ¡°Stop it,¡± I repeated, softer, but the command in my voice was stronger. She locked eyes with me, golden light staring at me. She let out a low growl, but the light began to fade, slowly until only the soft glow of moonlight remained.


    I let out a breath, my shoulders relaxing. She was powerful¡ªmore powerful than I had realized, and she was gaining more powers. ¡°Since when did dragons become light bulbs?¡± Thankfully she still listened to me¡­


    [Your Old Valyrian blood has strengthened.]


    Was it because of this? I thought I¡¯d need to shout a few more times. Also, the night was still clearer, the darkness less stifling to my eyes. My gaze caught a small movement¡ªa rabbit, poised to flee. I watched, sensing its tension, predicting its path before it even moved.


    Everything seemed sharper. The world was slowing down around me, each movement and sound standing out. Thankfully, I was gaining powers too. Real power. Not just the strength of a dragon but my own¡ªgrowing, evolving, becoming something more.


    Enough to beat the shit out of this lizard if she grew too rebellious someday.


    ****


    The night hung heavy around the Kingswood now that Viserion wasn''t spewing fire everywhere. A darkness that seemed to swallow everything, not just in sight but also in sound and presence.


    So it was easy to pick up any odd sounds. I¡¯d barely had time to prepare myself when I heard it¡ªthe distant rustle of leaves, muffled voices, and the unmistakable rhythm of approaching hooves.


    ¡°Oh, shit.¡± I cursed under my breath and quickly turned towards Viserion. The dragon, who¡¯d been half-curled near the treeline, her wings folded lazily, snapped her head up at my urgency.


    ¡°Into the subspace,¡± I muttered, pressing my hand against her scales. Her eyes narrowed at me, the golden glow flickering for a moment, almost as if she were rolling them.


    ¡°Fine¡­¡± But thankfully, she obeyed, her form slithering into the black crack in the air that was the [House of Dragons]. She disappeared entirely back into whatever dimension it was.


    I turned, breathing out, schooling my features just as the riders emerged into view. Who the fuck is it?


    Hopefully, not Joffrey. He''d make things difficult for me, and since he had a big group with him, I''d not be able just to kill him here. I knew my limits from fighting the beasts here, and I wasn''t a one-man army yet.


    **


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    **


    Author Note: Currently moving houses in a whole different city. In the new house as I write this note, but everything is a mess, holding the laptop on hand to type this since there¡¯s no space. This week will be really hectic. So probably there¡¯ll be less chapters than usual.

 [27] Blood in the Kingswood

    Chapter 27: Blood in the Kingswood


    ¡ª


    The moonlight glinted off silver armor, and there they were. I recognized the sigil that flew on their banner and glinted on their armor. It was¡­ House Velaryon. It was one of the only other houses besides the Targaryen that had Valyrian blood in them.


    The first thing I noticed was the white hair; it shone even in the darkness, unmistakably Valyrian. It was a hoax. The group of two dozen riders pulled their reins as they spotted me, curiosity evident in their glances. At the front of the armored group, a man with sea-weathered features, dark skin, and a regal bearing observed me, his expression one of cautious curiosity.


    I''d done my study before coming to Kings Landing from Dorne, so while I didn''t recognize his face, I recognized his identity. Lord Monford Velaryon, head of House Velaryon, and beside him rode his young son Monterys.


    ¡°You there!¡± Monford called out, his voice carrying across the clearing. He nudged his horse closer, the animal¡¯s hooves crunching against the underbrush. His eyes narrowed as they settled on me, taking in my appearance¡ªthe light armor, the white hair. ¡°Who are you? What are you doing out here in Kingswood?¡±


    His tone wasn¡¯t overtly hostile, but there was an edge to it. I was more curious about what he was doing here, apparently hunting with his son, from the looks of it. We Targaryens allowed House Velaryon to hunt in Kingswood when we ruled as a show of appreciation to their loyalty. However, that changed when Robert took over. He only allowed himself to hunt here. I doubted Joffrey would allow them considering that.


    Wait no, they support Stannis, not Joffrey. So they were here uncaring of Joffrey¡¯s decree? They were close to Kingswood, from the other side, the seaside, so it made sense. They came here, sure that they''d not find anyone else. Then, they found me. This could be troublesome if they choose to eliminate me, thinking I''d report them to Joffrey.


    I straightened, giving them an easy smile, though my mind raced. ¡°Rys, my lord,¡± I said simply, adopting a nonchalant tone. I couldn''t use the Vis identity here. ¡°I am a wandering mercenary from Volantis. I¡¯m just making my way to King¡¯s Landing, but got a little lost in the woods. Am I not allowed here?¡± S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Monford¡¯s gaze was sharp, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment before drifting to my hair. What was he looking at?


    ¡°Volantis, eh?¡± He nodded, and somehow he sounded fully convinced. ¡°If not for your hair and eyes¡­¡± his voice trailed off as he scrutinized my eyes, ¡°I might¡¯ve doubted it.¡±


    I froze for a heartbeat, the corners of my smile faltering. My hair was black, right? Why was he¡­


    The wind blew a lock of my hair in front of my face, and I caught white. Shit, fuck. What happened?


    I needed a moment, but I realized what had happened¡ªthe System¡¯s little ¡®Old Valyrian blood strengthened¡¯ notification wasn¡¯t just fluff. It had simply overwritten Kinvara''s little hair-changing magic and returned my hair to white. I could feel the weight of my gaze shifting, checking the reflection in my dagger¡¯s blade for a glimpse of my eyes. Sharp purple, unlike the faint one before that, was almost unnoticeable unless someone looked too closely.


    Was that why I could see better now?


    I nodded, keeping my smile in place. ¡°Yes, it seems some features are hard to shake off,¡± I replied easily, letting my gaze drift pointedly to his own locks of hair. ¡°Like that familiar silver hair, my lord. Beautiful braids.¡±


    The little boy, who sat beside his father on a smaller horse, couldn¡¯t seem to tear his eyes from me. I failed to recall his name. Was it Monty? He was staring intensely.


    The boy¡¯s gaze was wide, openly fascinated as he took in my appearance. There was something innocent in that curiosity, something that made him easier to read than his father¡¯s scrutinizing stare.


    ¡°Whoa¡­¡± Monty blurted, his voice high-pitched with the kind of wonder that only children possessed. ¡°You have Old Valyrian blood too? Do you¡­ do you know magic?¡±


    ¡°Monterys.¡± His father gave him a stern look, but there was no denying the boy¡¯s eagerness, the way his fingers fidgeted against the reins.


    I chuckled softly, shrugging. ¡°Just a wandering knight, young lord. No magic, I¡¯m afraid. Only a spear and some luck.


    Monford eyed me a moment longer, his gaze slipping to the clearing around us, to the faint glow of the embers from the earlier dragon fire was nowhere to be seen. I didn''t remain in spots that were too burnt, and this place was as good as new. However, the scent of burnt meat did linger in the air, and his nostrils flared slightly as he caught it. I hoped he''d just assume I was cooking myself a game.


    He glanced back at me, his expression guarded, though he didn¡¯t press further. ¡°We¡¯re camped nearby,¡± Monford said, his tone shifting, becoming a touch more formal. ¡°Why don¡¯t you join us for the night, Ser Rys? It¡¯s not wise to be alone in these woods after dark.¡±


    The ¡®invitation¡¯ was clear, but so was the undertone. A lone knight out in the woods, an unfamiliar face¡ªhe didn¡¯t trust me, and this was his way of keeping an eye on me before deciding what to do with me. I inclined my head, giving a small, seemingly appreciative smile.


    ¡°I¡¯d be honored, my lord,¡± I replied. ¡°But I¡¯d rather not bother you. I plan to sleep the night out and continue my journey tomorrow if you¡¯d allow me.¡±


    He stared at me for a moment before grunting with a nod. ¡°Sure thing,¡± he said, ¡°then let¡¯s talk for a bit more. It¡¯s not every day I meet fellow Valerian. Who is your family?¡± His voice was polite, but his intentions were mixed.


    I gave a slow shake of my head, my gaze going briefly to the moon before flicking back to meet Monford¡¯s. ¡°None that I know of,¡± I said. ¡°My mother was a whore¡ªa woman of common birth. My father? Never knew him. He is the one with the Valyrian blood, apparently, but I have no idea who he is. I¡¯ve been on my own for a long time, my lord. Family¡¯s not something I¡¯ve ever had the luxury of.¡±


    My voice was measured, devoid of sentimentality, just the way I wanted it. I could feel Monford¡¯s gaze still weighing on me, searching for cracks.


    ¡°A wanderer with Valyrian blood, I see,¡± Monford mused, a hint of curiosity in his voice. ¡°Even rarer.¡± He left it at that, but his eyes lingered on me a moment longer, and I could feel the wheels turning in the man¡¯s mind.


    I think I''m safe. He wouldn''t want to kill a kin based on pure suspicion. I hoped. The conversation paused, and then the boy broke the silence.


    ¡°Have you ever seen a dragon?¡± Monterys spoke with wide, eager eyes. For a moment, I was scared they¡¯d seen my dragon soar the skies earlier, and that was the reason they were here, But his curiosity was as innocent as his father¡¯s was calculated. His face was a picture of fascination.


    I turned my head to look at the boy, my gaze softening, a faint smile on my lips. ¡°Nope. But perhaps one day, young lord,¡± I said. ¡°Perhaps one day, you will see one.¡±


    Monterys¡¯ eyes widened further, excitement lighting up his expression. ¡°Really?!¡± He was ready to burst with questions, but his father¡¯s hand rested on his shoulder, a subtle gesture to temper the boy¡¯s enthusiasm.


    ¡°Enough questions for now, Monterys,¡± Monford said, his voice carrying both authority and warmth. He gave me a polite nod. ¡°It¡¯s been a long day for all of us. We¡¯ll let our guest rest. We''ve interrupted his sleep long enough.¡±


    He nodded and then rode the other way. His group followed him in tandem, hooves clicking against the ground. I stared at their retreating backs. I was perhaps really lucky that they¡¯d just let me leave. It was probably because he sensed kinship in me, and part of him didn¡¯t want to cause trouble for me. Any other day, and the result of this encounter might have been different.


    House Velaryon, huh? I watched them leave, eyes lingering on Monford. The ruler of Driftmark was a small family from the old Valyria. They were once allies of House Targaryen, their fleets unmatched, their loyalty unshakable. That was in the past. I knew they supported Stannis now, and Monford paid dearly for that in the original timeline by dying in the Battle of Blackwater. I didn¡¯t plan to save him from that.


    Instead, my eyes were on that boy, Monterys, who¡¯d become lord after that incident. House Velaryon could be an asset in time. The boy¡¯s fascination with dragons could be a key.


    When the time was right, I''d pay a visit to Driftmark, and that boy would remember me. ¡°I guess I know which house I¡¯d bring under me first,¡± I muttered under the cold whispers of the wind.


    Then again, perhaps I''d already have the seven kingdoms under me by then. I had more than one plan, after all. One starting with Renly Baratheon¡¯s death¡­


    **


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    Author Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR!! I have a good feeling about 2025 for myself, and an odd feeling for the world as a whole... May nothing bad happen.

 [28] Developments of King Joffrey

    Chapter 28: Developments of King Joffrey


    ¡ª


    It had been nearly a week of hunting in Kingswood and its nearby region, although mostly the latter since I didn¡¯t want to encounter the Velaryon House again. I¡¯d not have any excuses if I encountered them again, so I roamed the free fields around the area instead. Needless to say, that meant my levels grew far slower since there were only livestock and occasional wolves outside the forest.


    But I was Level 23 now, and that was much better than when I¡¯d left for King¡¯s Landing.


    Now, I was approaching the towering walls of the city again. The sight was familiar even if I¡¯d only seen it once in recent times. Perhaps that was also why it felt suffocating. Its chaotic, filthy streets stretched out before me as I passed through the gates, the black wig itchy against my scalp.


    Ever since my Valyrian blood strengthened a week ago, my silver hair had become a liability. Wearing the wig felt like a necessary annoyance, but it was one I begrudgingly accepted.


    Thankfully, the guards barely paid me any attention as I blended into the crowd.


    Or so I thought.


    ¡°Oi, you,¡± a familiar voice called, stopping me in my tracks.


    I tensed, turning to see none other than Bronn, the sellsword-turned-commander of the city watch. His sharp eyes swept over me, narrowing slightly before a sly grin spread across his face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t I know you?¡± Bronn drawled, his tone half-serious, half-mocking. ¡°You¡¯re that fella who hangs about with the priestess, yeah? Nyra, was it?¡±


    I forced a casual smile, my hand twitching slightly as I adjusted the bag slung over my shoulder. ¡°Ah, yes. That is the case. I¡¯ve been traveling for a bit, trying to do some odd jobs for coin.¡± Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Bronn chuckled, stepping closer. ¡°Aye? What, you got bored of that bombshell priestess already? Or did she kick you out? Seems a waste to leave someone like her all alone.¡±


    I shrugged, masking my irritation with a faint smirk. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I¡¯ve had my reasons. And you seem to have moved up in the world, Bronn.¡± I gestured to the man¡¯s armor, the insignia of the city watch polished to a gleam.


    Bronn grinned, clearly enjoying the compliment. ¡°Aye, well. Someone¡¯s gotta keep this city from tearing itself apart. Might as well be me.¡± He stepped aside, waving me through. ¡°Go on, then. Don¡¯t let me keep you. But if I were you, I¡¯d keep an eye out. City¡¯s¡­ not as friendly as it used to be.¡±


    I nodded, my steps measured as I passed. Relief washed over me as Bronn didn¡¯t press further. I was glad to put some distance between us. ¡°Phew,¡± I muttered under my breath as I slipped deeper into the city, heading straight for my small mansion.


    Whether he noticed the wig and chose not to comment or simply missed it, I wasn¡¯t sure. The Inventory had been invaluable for storing the wig and other necessities, but I was growing tired of relying on it.


    ****


    The mansion was eerily quiet when I arrived. I pushed open the door, my brows furrowing as I called out. ¡°Kinvara? Nymeria? Tyene? Anyone?¡±


    The lack of response grated on my nerves. Kinvara, as usual, was off somewhere doing her ¡°priestess work.¡± Commendable, I supposed, but damnably inconvenient. And the Martell girls? Likely wandering the city, oblivious to the risks.


    I sighed, pulling off the wig and tossing it onto a chair. ¡°A wig,¡± I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair. ¡°A Targaryen, reduced to wearing a wig like some common actor. Ridiculous.¡±


    Of course, it hadn¡¯t been an issue before, but since I had a better alternative¡ªKinvara¡¯s magic¡ªit felt a little insulting. The modern man in me knew it was a stupid thing to feel, but the Viserys in me disagreed.


    With nothing better to do, my thoughts turned to Ros. The brothel was a short walk away, and visiting her would be a good way to kill time, plus it was close to the time that I secured her loyalty. I put on the wig once again.


    I slipped through the crowd filled streets, and found myself in front of Littlefinger¡¯s Brothel. The brothel was lively when I walked in, the chatter of girls and the occasional burst of laughter filling the air, though something about the energy felt subdued. The whores¡¯ laughter felt forced today. As I stepped inside, the noise shifted.


    Some of the laughter dimmed, and heads turned to regard me with expressions ranging from curiosity to unease. The scent of heavy perfume mixed with alcohol hung in the air like a haze, and I searched for the familiar girls through it.


    One of the girls, again the same blonde who had teased me before, blinked in surprise when she caught sight of me. Except today, she didn¡¯t look very delighted. Her expression was something more subdued.


    ¡°Hey, you,¡± I called, and she blinked.


    "Ah¡­ I¡¯ll call Ros right away," she said, her voice quieter than usual. She turned and scurried off, leaving me to survey the room.


    Something felt off. There was an eerie undercurrent, a tension in the air that was hard to ignore, as if everyone was waiting for something to go wrong. Was King¡¯s Landing going through such harsh times? The vibrant chaos of the brothel felt muted today, it was like a painting stripped of its color.


    Moments later, Ros came rushing out, her expression solemn, though it lit up when she saw me. Before I could speak, she grabbed my arm, her voice urgent. ¡°Let¡¯s head to a room. Now.¡±


    I raised a brow but followed her without protest. Once inside, Ros locked the door behind us before turning, her face pale, her hands trembling. Before I could ask, she threw herself into my arms, her body shaking as she clung to me.


    Isn¡¯t this girl being way too clingy? That¡¯s not good given how our relationship will change soon, I noted as I parted my lips. ¡°Ros?¡± I asked, keeping my voice calm but edged with concern. ¡°What happened?¡±


    She pulled back just enough to look at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she whispered, her voice breaking. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to¡­ but I couldn¡¯t stop it.¡±


    ¡°Stop what?¡± I pressed, my tone firm but not unkind.


    Ros took a shaky breath, her words tumbling out in a rush. ¡°Littlefinger sent me and Daisy, my friend, to¡­ to entertain King Joffrey.¡±


    I scowled, and she continued, her eyes trembling as if fearing rejection. ¡°I tried to refuse, I swear, but he wouldn¡¯t hear it. Said it was my ¡®last active job¡¯ before my promotion.¡± By promotion, she must mean the position of an assistant, and not that of a madame, as that¡¯d already happened. Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I had to take it. But don¡¯t worry¡­. I didn¡¯t have to sleep with him. Somehow, I¡¯m not happy about that. Because Joffrey¡ªhe¡­ he made me hurt her. Daisy. He made me beat her, and now she¡¯s¡­ she¡¯s barely alive. She¡¯s dying! Her bones are broken, her body wounded, and Lord Baelish is not even bothering to save her. She won¡¯t last the night.¡±


    A flicker of annoyance stirred within me¡ªnot at Ros, but at the situation. I knew this scene from the show, and it was every bit as disgusting in reality. But I forced myself to remain composed. ¡°And you? Did he¡­?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said quickly, shaking her head. ¡°He didn¡¯t hurt me. He just¡­ watched. He made me hurt her and watched.¡±


    Watched, eh? Fucking retard. A part of me wanted to tie him up in a chair and make him watch me with his wife, but alas, poor Sansa didn¡¯t deserve such a fate.


    I exhaled, resting my hands on her shoulders and meeting her tearful gaze. ¡°It¡¯s going to be alright,¡± I said, my voice steady. ¡°We¡¯ll save her.¡±


    Ros looked at me as I yanked out a pouch. ¡°Take this. This much should be enough to get your friend treated from a great Healer,¡± I said.


    Her eyes widened. ¡°No, I¡­ I can¡¯t take your money. I¡ªyou went out and risked your life for this job, I can¡¯t take your money!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not for you,¡± I interrupted. ¡°It¡¯s for her. Take it. Use it to get her help. Your friend¡¯s life is more important than my money, Ros.¡±


    She hesitated, her hands trembling as I pressed the pouch of coins into them. Finally, she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. ¡°Thank you. Thank you so much.¡±


    I gave her a reassuring smile, though inwardly, my mind was already planning my next move. Although I hated that twat, Joffrey, his actions would only make things easier. Oh, how well-timed this situation was. Not only was her hate for Joffrey at an all-time high, but the same went for Littlefinger, for refusing to treat one of his workers who was dying.


    It was time to strike, for the iron was very hot.


    ¡°And Ros,¡± I said, my tone softening, ¡°tomorrow morning, I¡¯m taking you out of King¡¯s Landing. Tend to your friend tonight, and be ready to leave by dawn.¡±


    She blinked, surprised. ¡°Leave? Where?¡±


    I smiled, a touch of mystery in my expression. ¡°I have something to show you. And tomorrow night¡­ consider it the dinner date I promised you.¡±


    Ros stared at me, her tear-streaked face softening into something almost hopeful. ¡°Alright,¡± she whispered.


    I nodded, my mind already turning to the opportunities ahead. ¡°Good. Now go. Save her life.¡±


    As Ros left the room, clutching the pouch of coins, I allowed myself a small, private smirk. One more piece moved into place.


    **


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 [29] Princely Secrets of a Dragon

    Chapter 29: Princely Secrets of a Dragon


    ¡ª


    ¡°Thank you, thank you so much!¡± Daisy¡¯s voice was weak but earnest as she looked up from the bed, her pale face framed by strands of damp, brown hair. Her eyes were rimmed with exhaustion but held a faint light of hope as they met mine.


    Ros stood beside her bed, a soft smile tugging at her lips, though her own weariness was apparent.


    ¡°You have no idea how much this means to me,¡± Daisy continued, her voice trembling slightly as she held my hand. She was on the verge of tears. ¡°Ros told me everything. She¡­ she¡¯s lucky to have found someone like you. Truly lucky.¡±


    Ros¡¯s cheeks flushed, a faint giggle escaping her as she glanced at me, shy and girlish in her demeanor. ¡°Oh, Daisy, you¡¯re making me embarrassed¡­¡±


    I smiled faintly, inclining my head toward Daisy. ¡°I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re safe. The Healers weren¡¯t sure if you¡¯d survive the night, even with the medicines. But since the night has passed, you should be alright now. Just focus on recovering,¡± I said simply. ¡°Ros and I will make sure you¡¯re taken care of.¡±


    Daisy¡¯s lips parted as if to protest, but the strain on her body was too much. ¡°Just rest,¡± Ros said, and the woman sighed, singing back against the thin pillow, her eyes fluttering shut. Ros reached over, gently adjusting the blanket around her friend with a tenderness that failed to catch her hardened life.


    I walked away from the bed and lingered by the door, watching Ros care for Daisy. Her movements were gentle, her touch soft. There was something¡­ human in her I hadn¡¯t fully noticed or appreciated before. I had started approaching her with the intention of using her as a tool. Still, thankfully I hadn¡¯t inherited my father¡¯s madness, so I could appreciate my subordinates more than just tools or pawns, but rather as someone capable of loyalty and depth.


    When she finally turned to me, I straightened, masking my thoughts with a faint smile. ¡°I¡¯ll wait outside,¡± I said, my tone casual. ¡°Take your time.¡±


    She nodded, her lips pressing together in a tight, grateful line. It was early morning, and we¡¯d be late if we delayed any further. I stepped out into the corridor, the faint light casting long shadows on the walls.


    ****


    The sunlight was faint when we set out from King¡¯s Landing. The city still slumbered as Ros and I rode away, the streets quiet save for the occasional drunkard or beggar huddled in the alleys. Ros sat on my proud steed, Dany White, her figure small but poised. I was sitting behind her, my arms around her waist and holding the reins.


    She laughed softly when I squeezed her waist now and then with the excuse of steadying myself. She was giddy sharing a horse with me as I nudged the horse forward, guiding her through the winding paths that led away from the city¡¯s walls.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never ridden like this before,¡± she admitted, tilting her head back slightly. Her auburn hair brushed against my cheek, and there was a lightness in her voice that felt foreign, even to her. Truly, the poor girl was in love. ¡°It almost feels like flying.¡±


    I chuckled, keeping my tone light. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it. Dany¡¯s a fine horse. She knows her way.¡±


    ¡°Dany,¡± Ros repeated, her tone teasing. ¡°A curious name for a horse. Does it mean something special?¡±


    I smirked, ¡°It¡¯s, uh, named after my sister¡­¡±


    ¡°You have a sister? You never mentioned-¡± she started and then blinked. ¡°Ah, sorry¡­¡± The way her voice faltered, she must have assumed my little sister was dead. That was not the case, and I¡¯d honestly be a little sad if that happened.


    ¡°She¡¯s alive, don¡¯t worry,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re just not close. And I think she wants to kill me. That¡¯s why I never brought her up. I¡¯ll tell you more about her later,¡± I said, making the mood lift. We continued talking, chatting among ourselves as we rode.


    The ride was long, the sun climbing higher as we left the familiar chaos of King¡¯s Landing behind. Ros was silent for much of the journey, her gaze fixed on the horizon, where the forest loomed in the distance.


    She rested her weight on me, snuggling close, and the more she did stuff like that, the more I felt pity for what I was about to reveal to her today.


    ¡°By the way, why¡¯re you wearing a wig?¡± She suddenly asked when we were close to our destination. ¡°Your eyes look more¡­ purple too. I noticed last night, but the situation wasn¡¯t one where I could question you about that.¡±


    I was surprised she¡¯d noticed. ¡°The answer is related to what I plan to show you,¡± I said, ¡°so be patient, alright?¡±


    ¡°Sure~¡±


    It took more time to reach the edge of Kingswood than last time. Dany White carried two people, after all, and I deliberately went slow in the hope that the sun would set by the time we reached. As we closed up, the scenery bathed purple with fresh moonlight. Ros looked around with awe-filled eyes and inhaled deeply, her chest rising as she breathed in the crisp and untamed air.


    ¡°Beautiful place, isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°This is¡­ nice, yes,¡± she murmured, her voice carrying a note of wonder. ¡°But isn¡¯t it dangerous to be here? I¡¯ve heard stories about wolves, even bandits.¡±


    There were no bandits, and if there were, they¡¯d fled the forest after seeing the shadow of a dragon soaring through the night sky. I smiled faintly, sliding off the horse and offering her a hand to dismount. ¡°It¡¯s nothing I can¡¯t handle,¡± I said confidently. ¡°You worry too much.¡±


    She laughed, a soft, melodic sound. ¡°And what will you do if a whole pack of wolves comes running? Charm them with your wit?¡±


    I wondered what witty thing to say to that before I grinned, stepping toward a nearby light tree. ¡°No,¡± I said simply. ¡°I¡¯d do this.¡±


    Without warning, I drew back my fist and struck the trunk with all my strength. The sound of splintering wood echoed through the clearing as the tree cracked and fell with a resounding thud. Dany White neighed, jumping, but didn¡¯t run. Dust and leaves filled the air, and I turned back to Ros, brushing my hands off as if the feat had cost me nothing.


    Her expression faltered, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and awe. ¡°You¡­ what?¡± She stammered. ¡°N-no, what just happened? You broke that with your bare hands? Is that even humanly possible!¡± she stammered.


    I nodded, my smile faint but satisfied. ¡°This is what I¡¯d do to them,¡± I said, my voice steady. ¡°I¡¯m not joking when I say I¡¯m far more powerful than I seem.¡±


    The sun had set, and the moon was showering over the clearing. The atmosphere was quite romantic, and Ros stood rooted in place, her gaze flicking between the fallen tree and me. ¡°...Wow¡­ haha,¡± she said, her voice shaky with laughter. ¡°You don¡¯t look like you hold that much power inside you. Can the Mountain do that, even?¡±


    ¡°Oh, trust me, he can,¡± I replied with a chuckle. ¡°If it was the Mountain, he could do it.¡± However, after the recent level-ups, I couldn¡¯t be sure if he was stronger than me. I was definitely a better fighter, though, considering speed and everything. It might not be an easy win, though.


    She relaxed slightly, a small smile returning to her lips. ¡°Heh. So I was worried for nothing when you left the city a week ago.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I admitted. ¡°Although to be fair, there are much greater things you should be worried about regarding me. I¡¯m not safe even with this much strength.¡±


    Her brow rose as she sank onto a fallen log, her gaze fixed on me. She didn¡¯t take my statement seriously. ¡°Why is that, Prince Charming?¡± she asked with humor in her tone.


    I stared at her and then sighed, crossing my arms as I met her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ros. I know how you feel about me, but¡­ I hadn¡¯t considered that you¡¯d fall in love with me when I first met you and told you things. I was just there to get laid, you know? Men lie. I also lied to you about some stuff, although much of it was true.¡±


    ¡°Well, fair,¡± she said, although now her expression was starting to shift. She had a small frown on her face. When I went silent, she started to look worried. ¡°...Vis?¡± she asked, her voice small and uncertain.


    ¡°I¡¯m not someone that can marry you,¡± I said softly. ¡°Not because I don¡¯t want to, but because this realm will not withstand that.¡±


    Her confusion deepened, her eyes searching mine for answers.


    ¡°It was not a lie when I said I am part of the Second Sons and that my name is Vis. Some people do call me Vis,¡± I continued. ¡°But that¡¯s not my official name. Allow me to introduce myself properly.¡±


    I snapped my fingers, and the air beside me cracked open. Rather than my name, I let her feast on the myth first. The myth that was the emblem of my family. A dark void cracked the air, and from it emerged a majestic dragon, a mighty lizard with wings and glistening golden scales. ¡°Groughh!¡± Viserion roared, her golden scales shimmering as she soared into the sky.


    I didn¡¯t know if I was going too fast, but there was no going back now. I was going to trust a whore with this secret.


    I observed her expression carefully. Ros gasped, stumbling back as she stared up at the dragon, her hands covering her mouth. ¡°A¡­ a dragon?!¡± she cried, her voice trembling with shock.


    I stayed silent, looking up to follow Viserion soar the skies, circle the forest, and spew fire on the dark sky. I waited for Ros to call me herself, but the girl was too awed by the sight. Only half a minute later did she snap her head down at me, her eyes filled with confusion and fear. Rightfully so.


    ¡°V-Vis? You¡­ you are¡­¡± she started, and I nodded, reaching up to pull off my wig.


    My silver hair gleamed in the fading light as I looked at her, my purple eyes glinting and my expression steady. ¡°I am Vis,¡± I said, ¡°short for Viserys Targaryen. The last living son of Aerys Targaryen and the blood of Aegon the Conqueror. Of Old Valyria. Leader of the Second Sons, Hero of the Red God, and the Father of Dragons.¡±


    It was a bit embarrassing to announce my titles myself, but I didn¡¯t have Kinvara here. The words didn¡¯t fall short, though. Ros¡¯ wide eyes remained locked on me, trembling as she stared at the last blood of the Targaryen Dynasty. ¡°Your¡­ your sister,¡± she said, ¡°it¡¯s Daenerys Targaryen¡­¡± that wasn¡¯t a question, so I nodded.


    The woman was stunned, shocked, and stupefied. She was standing in front of a prince, and she must have realized what I meant when I said I couldn¡¯t marry a whore. Her eyes shifted between the dragon and me, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came.


    ¡°And Ros,¡± I continued, stepping closer. ¡°Although I¡¯m sorry for leading you on, it was all you who had the idea of marriage, not me. You understand how impossible it is, yes? And that saddens me. Because I adore you¡­ and so I want you to be beside me.¡± I said, watching her breathing grow heavy. ¡°I want you to become mine, Ros. And I want you to help me conquer this continent¡ªno, not conquer. Assist me in taking back what is rightfully mine.¡±


    I extended a hand to her, my voice firm, resolute. ¡°Take my hand. Become my eyes and ears. Help me put down that terrible Joffrey, who you know is a monster. You, a whore? I don¡¯t want you to stay that way, for I truly adore you. Instead¡­ I want you to take the role of being your future king¡¯s most trusted advocate. As the Mistress of Whisperers. Ros, not the whore, but the Lady of the Small Council. I want history to know you like that.¡±


    Her gaze was a storm of emotions. There was shock, confusion, sadness that the man she fell for was someone from a whole other world, and lastly¡­ ambition. Ros stared at me. Slowly, she reached out, her fingers trembling as they touched mine. Her grip tightened, and a spark of determination lit her eyes. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Ros, who¡¯d one day be written as Ros the Spider in the pages of history, took my hand with trembling fingers. I pulled her up and embraced her like a beast, for that was the thing she wanted the most tonight.


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: There¡¯s no point in having a smut scene here; the current conclusion is pretty solid. But fear not those who are deprived of lemons, soon, soon¡­ ??

 [30] The Impending Choice

    Chapter 30: The Impending Choice


    ¡ª


    Sansa Stark¡¯s lips quivered as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her handmaiden, Shae, worked her hair and put some make-up over the wound in her face. The spot where Joffrey slapped her earlier.


    ¡°Don¡¯t cry,¡± Shae said, ¡°it¡¯ll ruin the makeup.¡±


    Sansa let out a harrowing sigh but managed not to shed tears. She didn¡¯t want to make this poor girl¡¯s work harder. She should be the only one to suffer. Shae was a nice girl, and she cared for Sansa.


    Her brother was leading a war to save her and Arya, except her little sister was nowhere to be seen. Sansa was caged in a castle in this foreign land, where everyone saw her as the treacherous daughter of a traitor. Shae was the only person nice to her, who lent her strength to hold on for another day. She appreciated this woman, even if her words were always blunt.


    There was¡­ another person who lent her the strength to hold on, to hope for a rescue even, but she hadn¡¯t seen him in a while. That odd man who¡¯d said, ¡°Winter is coming,¡± with a charming smile. He didn¡¯t sound like a northerner, but he definitely was someone her brother sent here as a spy. That had to be it! At least¡­ Sansa hoped so.


    So, she¡¯d been waiting to see him again. She roamed the hallways and gardens now and then, hoping to meet the person who¡¯d uttered her family motto. However, she couldn¡¯t find him anywhere.


    At this rate, this hope of hers would die out soon, too.


    The eldest daughter of the Stark, Sansa felt herself breaking from the inside.


    ****


    The streets of King¡¯s Landing were as alive as ever, bustling with vendors shouting over one another, beggars pleading for scraps, and children darting through the chaos. The stench of sweat, salt, and filth clung to the air.


    It was a city that thrived in disorder, its heartbeat erratic but unyielding. I hated that. As the prince of this land, I hated the sight, and as a modern man, I wanted to fix it. I wanted to make everything better.


    I walked alongside Kinvara, making idle talks with her. She moved with a grace that seemed out of place for this filthy road. Her crimson robes marked her as an outsider, and yet the people, especially the poor, seemed drawn to her like moths to a flame.


    She suddenly paused at the edge of a crowded market. Her gaze swept over the throngs of people before she knelt beside an elderly woman sitting on the ground, clutching her chest.


    ¡°Breathe deeply, Mother,¡± Kinvara instructed, her voice calm. She pressed her fingers lightly to the woman¡¯s wrist, her expression thoughtful.


    ¡°A-ah, Priestess¡­¡± the old lady recognized her, making Kinvara smile.


    ¡°You¡¯ve suffered a tightening of the chest recently, haven¡¯t you? A burning sensation here?¡± Her fingers brushed the area just below the woman¡¯s collarbone.


    The woman nodded, her voice trembling. ¡°Aye, I have. I thought¡­ I thought it might be the Stranger coming for me.¡±


    Kinvara smiled faintly, but her eyes remained serious. ¡°Not yet. Not ever. Don''t take offense, but the only true God is the Red God, and he doesn''t want your soul yet.¡±


    The old lady tried to say something, but Kinvara reached into the pouch at her side, pulling out a small vial. ¡°Drink this now and before you sleep tonight. Remember, no matter how painful it gets, not at any other time. It will ease your pain, but you must avoid salted meats. They¡¯re making your heart work harder than it should.¡±


    The woman¡¯s gnarled hands shook as she accepted the vial. She looked reluctant and opened it, pouring a bit of it into her mouth. Her eyes widened in pain and then relaxed instantly as if the pain had vanished. Her eyes welled with tears. ¡°Ah¡­ it''s gone¡­ Bless you, my lady. Bless you.¡±


    Kinvara rose, brushing off her robes. ¡°Bless R¡¯hllor,¡± she corrected gently. ¡°He sees all and wills that you endure.¡±


    I leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. The crowd¡¯s murmurs carried a tone of reverence as an old man rushed to Kinvara, fell to his knees, and described his problem.


    Kinvara happily moved her attention to him and then the next. From one person to the next, she diagnosed ailments, handed out herbs, and even offered life advice.


    To them, she was more than a priestess; she was hope in human form.


    To me, she looked like a Doctor who''d cultivated a lot more knowledge than the typical ones of this worm. Considering her age, which I was sure numbered in the hundreds, that wasn''t a surprise. Not that I was doubting her magical powers, but she wasn''t as divine as these people thought they were.


    I did like what she was doing, though. Unlike Melisande, who kept tucked up beside Stannis all the time, this woman here helped the poor and needy. Unlike the High Sparrow, she did actual good work rather than just feeding them bad food.


    I need to make sure she never surrounds the city with her own Faith Militant, though. I noted.


    ¡°You¡¯re quite the spectacle,¡± I remarked when Kinvara finally turned toward me, wiping her hands on a cloth. ¡°You¡¯d make a fine Maester or Healer if this priestess business ever loses its charm.¡±


    Her lips curved into a small smile. ¡°And you would make a fine fool, Vis. But we both have our roles to play, don¡¯t we?¡±


    I smirked, pushing off the wall to follow her as she moved deeper into the market. ¡°Still, I can¡¯t argue with the results. You¡¯re building something here. These people look at you as if you¡¯ve already saved them.¡±


    ¡°Because I have,¡± she said simply, pausing to hand a pouch of herbs to a young boy. I couldn''t deny that. ¡°Perhaps not from their poverty or their hunger, but from the despair that eats away at their souls. That, too, is a kind of salvation.¡± S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I watched her for a moment longer, my gaze narrowing slightly. Her calm, her confidence was something that could not be feigned. I wondered how much of it was genuine belief and how much was strategy. Whatever the case, she was honestly attractive. Either way, it worked.


    The murmurs of gratitude from the gathered crowd seemed to swell as Kinvara continued her work. She looked less like a priestess of the Red God and more like a physician making her rounds. But this wasn¡¯t mere charity.


    Every act of kindness, every life touched, was a seed planted for the future. I could see it in the way people¡¯s eyes lingered on her, their trust growing with every word she spoke. This city was beginning to see her as a savior. They were starting to convert.


    And by extension, they would see me as their Hero, too.


    My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of smooth footsteps. They were so natural that I hadn''t even noticed they were approaching me. Turning my head slightly, I caught sight of Daisy the Whore emerging from the shadows of a nearby alley.


    Her face was a mask, her movements smooth but cautious as she approached. When she reached me, she leaned in close, and I put a hand on her waist, squeezing it. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke.


    ¡°Renly Baratheon is dead, my king.¡±


    The words spread through my brain like nectar, cutting through the noise of the market and leaving a ringing silence in their wake. I failed to hold back a smile. Renly Baratheon was dead.


    ¡°And,¡± she continued, ¡°Stannis Baratheon has taken Storm''s End.¡± Daisy took a step back, her hands trembling slightly. She was masking her worry well, but since Renly was dead and Stannis took over his army, King''s Landing was in threat of war. I liked how she was starting to see the intricate threads of politics better than the few other whores that Ros had taken under her wing so far.


    I could see the fear in her eyes and the weight of her message. She looked at me as if seeking assurance, but I offered none. The war would happen. I wanted it to happen. It would mark the end for both Stannis and Joffrey.


    But now, I had to decide on something big.


    It was a few months before the Battle of Blackwater, and I had the choice of staying here and allowing Tywin to come to save the day with the help of the Tyrell army¡­


    Or, I visit Highgarden now and take the Tyrells for myself.


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: The King¡¯s Landing introductory arc has come to an end; it helped slow down the pace and set things on a solid upward path from here on. Viserion was raised, an information network was made, a northern princess¡¯s attention was gained, and sweet plans were beginning to unfold.


    What do you guys think Viserys should do now?


    Come find fellow fans on Discord and more chapters on Patreon!


    Patreon: Patreon.com/Master4thWall


    Discord: .gg/dQeu27jBvf

 [31] The High Walls of Highgarden

    Chapter 31: The High Walls of Highgarden


    ¡ª


    The city was waking up, the sunlight was warm, and my mind was a whirlwind of ideas. Renly Baratheon was not a danger, and I¡¯d never seen him as one. Even if he didn¡¯t die somehow in this timeline, I was fairly confident in taking him out myself. The problem was what¡¯d come after him. Stannis the Mannis, the humorless stag.


    Stannis¡¯ army only almost took over King¡¯s Landing, but Tywin Lannister appeared at the right time with the Tyrell army beside him. Now, I was planning to take the Tyrells for myself. Instead of Tywin, I could be the one to bring them to King¡¯s Landing and then take the throne.


    Or, I could wait it out. After all, just taking the throne wasn¡¯t the plan. The plan was to hold it. If I only had the Tyrells and Dorne by my side, I couldn¡¯t defend the throne if Robb Stark challenged me with others. So, I could kill Joffrey mid-battle, and then I could kill Stannis just when he¡¯d think he was winning. Then I could let Tommen the fool play King for a while, while I bring the others under my wing too. By then, I might even have visited my lovely sister and met her army.


    Those two plans came to mind, and multiple more formed as I pondered. But all of that concerned me having the Tyrells by my side.


    The Reach could provide me with somewhere from 80,000 to 100,000 men. And as surprising as it may sound, that wasn¡¯t their greatest value. Their greatest value was the crops¡ªthe food¡ªthey could provide me. Winter was coming, and with the threat of the white walkers looming overhead, food was a very important matter.


    The choice was simple, no matter which plan I followed.


    I¡¯d need House Tyrell by my side more than any other house.


    The problem was Dorne. I was an ally of theirs, and they were generational enemies of Tyrells. They wouldn¡¯t mind if I allied both of them, they¡¯d compromise, but the manner of alliance could cause problems. I was sure that old lady, the Queen of Thorns, wouldn¡¯t let me leave without marrying her granddaughter.


    I didn¡¯t mind marriage, but I¡¯d rather keep that option open if possible. After all, if things went right, I had some plans with Sansa too. While the North was a poor region, they were the snow-barbarians who would fight the hardest against the White Walkers.


    Then again, they¡¯d do that even if I didn¡¯t command them.


    Regardless, I¡¯d need a Stark loyal to me to control them, warn them about the impending threat, and listen rather than find my words a meager story.


    ¡°But you¡¯ve already made your choice,¡± Kinvara said, yawning as she nudged closer to me. Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains as our skin brushed against one another. Her touch was warm, welcoming, like the feel of family. She kissed my lips, moaned a little, and nodded. ¡°I think your plan¡¯s solid.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I said. I only told her after I¡¯d made my choice not to ask her for advice or anything. She scoffed out a giggle.


    ¡°Yeah, go to them with the intention of becoming allies, and try not to get married. But if you have to, if you have no other choice, then you¡¯ve got yourself a beautiful wife,¡± she said. ¡°That Margaery girl¡­ her fate is interesting.¡±


    ¡°Hey, if you can see the future, can¡¯t you just tell me?¡± I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°It¡¯s not really the future. It¡¯s just a lead, barely even. Plus, if I tell you, it¡¯d be distorted. What¡¯s the point in sharing a future that is ruined?¡± She said, making me shrug. ¡°So, who are you taking with you? I¡¯m unsure if the Tyrells will be fond of you visiting them with the Sand Snakes.¡±


    ¡°Nah, if they won¡¯t ally themselves with me just because of the Sand Snakes, they might as well not become allies at all. I need them to work with Dorne. I can¡¯t have my backers fight each other,¡± I said. ¡°But yes, for this, I don¡¯t plan to take them with me since there¡¯s a chance that things go wrong and we must escape. But I will take you with me. What¡¯ll you do? I want to take you with me too, but Queen Cersei might get curious about where you vanished.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go with you,¡± she yawned, sitting up slowly as she stretched her arms. ¡°I can¡¯t not be there when you¡¯re making such an important deal. This is potentially- no, easily bigger than our alliance with Dorne. Dorne is supposed to have 50,000 able-bodied soldiers, but they barely provided 10,000 when your older brother Rhaegar asked them for support. Even though at that time, the Princess of Dorne was married to your brother. Even had children.¡±


    ¡°Well, he was cheating on her.¡±


    ¡°She was still the Queen. They didn¡¯t bother to send more help,¡± Kinvara said, looking into my eyes. ¡°We¡¯ll just need to cover our tracks and make sure nobody realizes we¡¯re going to Highgarden. Plus, you¡¯ll need me to talk with that wrinkle bag.¡±


    I laughed, slowly getting off the bed. ¡°Let¡¯s leave right now, then,¡± I said. ¡°Unless you have work that needs to be taken care of?¡± I personally didn¡¯t. I had Ros and her whores to gather information and do anything I need them to do in my absence.


    ¡°Sure thing,¡± Kinvara agreed. ¡°We need to catch a ship through the Mander River. Should take us about two weeks to reach the place,¡± she said.


    I stared at the woman who¡¯d been helping me with everything since I awakened myself. She was doing a lot, all in the name of her Lord, all in the assumption that I was the Hero she¡¯d dreamed about. Sometimes, it was easy to trust fanatics because they didn¡¯t hide their allegiances.


    I¡¯d have to be careful of her when we¡¯d have no more use of each other. Until then? She was my best friend.


    I walked over to open the windows properly, pushing the veils to the side. I looked at the city of King¡¯s Landing outside as my hair blew in the wind. Two weeks later, I might be half an arse on the throne already¡­ Or not. I was going there assuming they wanted a Targaryen back to the throne, which made sense given what I knew of them, but could I be sure?


    This might backfire if they choose to expose and kill me instead.


    Hopefully, regardless of how the visit goes, I¡¯d be back before the Riot of King¡¯s Landing, where the mob would attack the royal family. I had a plan to fulfill during that incident, after all.


    ****


    The Mander River stretched endlessly before us, its waters glittering under the sun¡¯s gaze. The journey had been long and grueling, but I hadn¡¯t minded. It was pleasant.


    The farther we got from King¡¯s Landing, the cleaner the air became. Fields of golden wheat and verdant pastures flanked us. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and filth that I¡¯d left. It was laughable how the Reach seemed untouched by the turmoil gripping the rest of Westeros, although some signs of it still showed.


    Even so, this place wasn¡¯t peace itself. Not when soldiers patrolled every major road and wary commoner eyes followed us wherever we went. The war had reached here, even if indirectly. The Reach might have been beautiful, but even it wasn¡¯t safe.


    ¡°A beautiful place for vacation every year if they become your in-laws,¡± Kinvara rode beside me and said, and I ignored her. Her magic no longer wrapped her hair, as black strands were tucked neatly under a hood, with some swaying in the wind.


    She¡¯d disguised herself well, trading her usual crimson robes for simpler, muted fabrics. She was stubborn about it, but I convinced her in the bedroom. But people still stared, drawn to her as if she were carrying a secret flame within her. It was odd.


    ¡°We¡¯re close,¡± she murmured, with her gaze fixed ahead, where the spires of Highgarden rose on the horizon.


    I followed her line of sight, my grip on the reins tightening. There it was, the seat of House Tyrell, a fortress that looked more like a palace. Its golden walls gleamed in the sunlight, surrounded by sprawling gardens that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful, yes. But more importantly, it looked mythically powerful.


    [Image Here]


    Spoiler


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    It was a reminder that the Tyrells didn¡¯t just rule¡ªthey thrived in the Reach. They¡¯d taken this land from its original rulers three hundred years ago, and they¡¯d been ruling ever since. ¡°Beautiful place, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Quite,¡± Kinvara agreed. Before we could exchange more words, we were interrupted by the distant sound of hoofbeats. ¡°Careful.¡±


    I glanced to my right just as a group of riders appeared, their green cloaks unmistakable. Tyrell soldiers. Their formation was tight, and their approach swift. It was as if they¡¯d been expecting to be attacked or something.


    A knight led the soldiers, and he was a broad-shouldered man with a thick mustache. He reined in his horse with his head tilted high. He closed the distance and slowed, his eyes scanning us with practiced suspicion. ¡°Halt!¡± he barked, his voice carrying the weight of authority. ¡°State your names and purpose.¡±


    I slowed Dany White to a stop, letting the horse sidestep once before settling. ¡°Take us to your lord¡¯s castle,¡± I said, keeping my tone firm.


    The man frowned, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. ¡°Not until you tell us who you are, stranger. What kind of demand is that?¡±


    Kinvara remained silent, her posture relaxed, and her smile calm. I allowed a smirk to tug at my lips. ¡°You¡¯re cautious that we¡¯re spies. That¡¯s good, the times are tough. But you¡¯re wasting time. My business here is urgent.¡±


    The soldier¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°Urgent, is it? You¡¯ll have to do better than that.¡±


    I sighed, feigning impatience. I wasn¡¯t truly. I was just making a show. I wanted my entry to be a bit grand, after all. I hadn¡¯t come here as ¡®Vis,¡¯ a wrapped cloth hid my hair in the Dornish style, so I could get away with showing off a little.


    ¡°I visited Dorne before this, and I guess they were right about what they said about the Reach. Pretentious and slow. Useless, too. They never wasted time questioning me like this. But I suppose not everyone can be as competent as the Dornish,¡± I said.


    The change in his expression was immediate. His jaw tightened, and his grip on his sword hilt became white-knuckled. ¡°Watch your tongue, outsider,¡± he growled. ¡°We¡¯ve no love for those sand snakes here.¡±


    ¡°Good to know,¡± I said, my smirk widening. ¡°But if you hate Dorne so much, perhaps you¡¯ll appreciate this¡ªthey have no patience for Reachmen either. And it seems to me it¡¯s better to agree with them.¡±


    That did it. He motioned to two of his men, who spurred their horses forward without hesitation. They rode straight at me, swords drawn, their intentions clear. Fools.


    Innocent people, perhaps, or perhaps heinous criminals. I didn¡¯t care at that moment. I had to show a strong front, and fighting was the best way to do that.


    I didn¡¯t move until the last possible moment, letting them think they had the upper hand. Then, with a single, fluid motion, I drew my spear from the Inventory and swept it through the air. The first rider¡¯s throat opened in a crimson spray, his body crumpling as he fell from his horse. The second barely had time to react before he met the same fate.


    The remaining soldiers froze, and their confidence trembled. Where had I gotten this spear from? How did I deal with them so fast? They hesitated.


    I didn¡¯t give them time to recover and charged. I swung the blunt end of my spear, and I struck the next soldier across the chest, sending him tumbling backward. Another fell with a sharp crack as I struck his helmet, knocking him unconscious. By the time I was done, only their leader remained.


    He stared at me, his hand frozen on his sword. I met his gaze, my voice cold. ¡°Still want to test me?¡±


    ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re going to pay for this,¡± he said. ¡°Our army-¡± Before he could respond, the sound of approaching hooves filled the air. A larger group of riders emerged from the tree line, their green armor gleaming in the sunlight. At the front was a man I recognized instantly¡ªLoras Tyrell.


    His horse came to a sharp halt, his gaze sweeping over the fallen soldiers before locking onto me. His expression was a mix of anger and disbelief. ¡°What in the Seven Hells is happening here?¡± he demanded. ¡°How dare you kill Tyrell soldiers right under my nose?¡± S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°They disrespected the crown,¡± I said simply. ¡°By pointing their swords at their king.¡±


    Loras scowled, his jaw tightening. ¡°King Joffrey sits on the throne. What are you blabbering about?¡± His eyes landed on Kinvara. ¡°You- your hair¡­ You¡¯re that red priestess we met in Storm¡¯s End. What are you doing here?¡±


    I smiled, reached up, and unwrapped the cloth around my head. My silver hair spilled out, swaying in the air as I let my smile drop. Gasps rippled through the soldiers behind him, their whispers filling the air like the buzz of insects.


    Kinvara chose that moment to dismount, her movements graceful despite the tension in the air. ¡°I hope you trust the men around you, Ser Loras,¡± she said, her voice sharp and commanding. ¡°For betrayal often hides in plain sight, and the betrayal of what you¡¯re seeing right now, if it goes out of Reach, will carry a heavy price.¡±


    It definitely would spread out of Reach, even if as a rumor. However, I wasn¡¯t against that. That was why Kinvara and I had returned to our original appearance, for I wanted them to be a Targaryen rumor in Westeros. Like the lurking ghost of a dragon waiting to strike.


    Loras¡¯ gaze flicked to her, then back to me. ¡°What¡­ is this? Who are you two?¡± he asked, though his tone was less certain now.


    ¡°My name is Kinvara. I am the Heart of Fire, the First Priestess,¡± Kinvara said and then gestured to me, her voice unwavering. ¡°This is Viserys Targaryen,¡± she declared. ¡°The rightful heir to the Iron Throne. The blood of Old Valyria. The Father of Dragons.¡±


    The murmurs grew louder, spreading like wildfire among the soldiers. Loras didn¡¯t look convinced but didn¡¯t dismiss it outright, either. Smart man.


    ¡°Now,¡± I said, leaning forward slightly. ¡°Shall we continue this conversation in your lord¡¯s castle? I¡¯d rather talk with your grandmother. Or do you plan to let your men embarrass themselves further?¡±


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: Another chapter comes out in a few hours.

 [32] House Tyrell Doesn’t Want A Beggar King

    Chapter 32: House Tyrell Doesn¡¯t Want A Beggar King


    ¡ª


    The sunlight slipped through carved shutters, bathing the dressing room¡¯s polished floor in soft morning gold. Within that glow stood Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, perched on a cushioned stool before a mirror that captured every fine line and frown. A handmaiden hovered over her shoulder, brush in one hand, a delicate container of pigments in the other. The girl¡¯s fingers trembled slightly, no doubt from the old woman¡¯s impatient sighs.


    ¡°Do hurry,¡± Olenna said, her tone dry and precise. ¡°I¡¯ve no intention of spending the entire forenoon having my face dabbed like a canvas. Bald Tarly hates waiting, or so they say¡ªand the gods know I won¡¯t keep a man with such a brilliant head of nonexistent hair lingering in my halls.¡±


    The handmaiden swallowed and worked faster, dabbing color along Olenna¡¯s cheekbones, smoothing out the subtle shadows under her sharp eyes. Olenna watched the girl¡¯s reflection, taking a mild satisfaction in the renewed urgency of her efforts. It was amusing how the mere mention of a perpetually irritable lord could spur a servant¡¯s hands.


    With a final dust of powder, the handmaiden stepped back. Olenna reached up and adjusted a strand of silver hair beneath her headdress. Not bad, she decided. The face staring back at her was dignified, cunning, and gave nothing away. Exactly what she required for her meeting with Tarly¡ªthough now that the morning¡¯s routine had ended, perhaps she could finally escape this little chamber.


    She stood, ready to leave, when the door swung wide without warning. Olenna¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. The handmaiden squeaked and backed away. In strode Loras Tyrell¡ªno knocking, no heralding voice, just the scrape of hinges and his urgent footsteps.


    Olenna clicked her tongue and turned, her spine straight, her chin lifted. ¡°Where are your manners, boy?¡± she said sharply, casting a cool glance at her grandson. ¡°Has Highgarden stopped teaching courtesy to its own knights? I could have been¡­ quite indecent, you know.¡±


    Loras halted mid-step, cheeks coloring slightly. ¡°Grandmother,¡± he murmured, bowing his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s urgent.¡±


    Olenna folded her hands over her embroidered gown, letting the silence weigh on him. Loras hesitated¡ªodd for him, this golden rose of the family, usually so swift with confidence. It made Olenna¡¯s eyebrows lift with mild curiosity. At last, he found his voice.


    ¡°I¡­ I brought home a Targaryen.¡±


    A beat of stillness met his words. Olenna¡¯s first instinct was to bark a laugh, but instead, her lips simply tightened. ¡°What?¡± she said, short and crisp.


    Loras¡¯s Adam¡¯s apple bobbed. ¡°Viserys Targaryen, the so-called Beggar King. He arrived at our gates not an hour past. He¡­ he killed two of our knights¡ªjust like that¡ªand demands an audience with you. The Red Priestess¡ªKinvara, the High Priestess of the Faith of Light¡ªis with him, lending her support.¡± S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Olenna¡¯s eyes narrowed. The handmaiden, still present, looked ready to faint. Olenna waved her off with a curt gesture. The girl slipped out, relieved to escape this charged atmosphere.


    ¡°How lovely,¡± Olenna said, voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°We have a beggar king at our doorstep, painting the stones red with our own men¡¯s blood. My first thought would be to tie him up and gift him to King Joffrey. At least that boy would see us in a kindly light for a day. But¡­¡± Her voice trailed off. Kinvara. The name drifted through her mind like an unsettling rumor. Everyone worth a dime heard of that woman¡¯s influence overseas. A meddler, a mystic¡ªsomeone not easily dismissed.


    A red priestess was seen hanging around Stannis, too. Margaery had seen that woman with her own eyes before, and despite that, Olenna didn¡¯t feel the urge to throw this Kinvara into the dungeons. Kinvara was far more influential than some random red priestess.


    Olenna inhaled, then exhaled slowly. ¡°But perhaps not,¡± she concluded. ¡°A Targaryen prince is one thing. Add a priestess of note, and it complicates matters. We must be careful.¡± She waved a hand. ¡°Loras, deploy knights all across the estate. Double our guard. If these two intend treachery, I want them caged before they can blink. As for Lord Tarly, cancel my meeting. The bald buzzard can sit in his hall and crow for a while longer. I¡¯ve more pressing feathers to pluck.¡±


    Her grandson nodded, relief and tension warring on his face. He turned to go, and Olenna eyed him sternly. ¡°And next time, dear boy, try knocking first. My heart¡¯s too old for surprises.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Grandmother,¡± Loras said, subdued. He left, the door closing behind him.


    The Queen of Thorns stood alone in the quiet dressing room. Her reflection awaited her in the mirror, unchanged¡ªexcept now, Olenna¡¯s eyes glinted sharper. She would meet this fallen Dragon, see what fire he tried to breathe in her gardens, and if he dared show arrogance, she¡¯d remind him that roses had thorns for good reason.


    She stepped to the door and opened it. Time to greet these visitors.


    ****


    I settled onto a rose-patterned sofa, my back straight and my expression composed, though my pulse thrummed with anticipation. I had to admit I was a little nervous.


    Across from me, Olenna Tyrell lowered herself into her seat with a poised elegance that betrayed the sharpness in her gaze. Behind her, Loras Tyrell stood watchful, his posture taut, while off to one side stood Garlan Tyrell, arms crossed and sizing me up with quiet intensity. Garlan was a book character who was said to be even stronger than Loras. I didn¡¯t know much about him, but he was certainly dangerous.


    At my side, Kinvara remained as calm and still as a statue. The crimson hue of her robes vividly contrasted with the muted greens and golds of Highgarden¡¯s decor. I cleared my throat, ready to speak, but Olenna spoke first, her tone clipped. ¡°You have my attention, boy. I do hope you¡¯re not going to waste my time.¡±


    Rude and snarky, just as I remember. I inclined my head and said, ¡°Lady Olenna, I¡¯ve come seeking the support of your house.¡± My voice sounded steadier than I felt. ¡°The Tyrells command respect and power, and¡ª¡±


    She cut me off with a short laugh, tapping a cane that rested beside her. ¡°Support? From Highgarden?¡± She lifted a brow. ¡°If that¡¯s what you¡¯re after, you should be talking to my son, Mace Tyrell. He¡¯s the Lord of this house if you didn¡¯t know. Except he¡¯s off hunting, and it might be weeks before he returns. You¡¯ve unfortunately missed the man who could give you what you want. If that¡¯s it, we can end this meeting. Trust me, I have far more important things to do than to entertain a beggar king.¡±


    I let a small smile show on my lips. ¡°Perhaps,¡± I said, ¡°but I know where the true strength of House Tyrell resides, and I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve missed my mark at all. I¡¯ve received Dorne¡¯s support already,¡± I said, slipping a hand into empty air, ¡°you can confirm it through this letter.¡± I pulled out a letter and reached out.


    Olenna¡¯s eyelids twitched at the display. Loras¡¯s stance behind her grew more protective, and I noticed Garlan shift his weight as if measuring the distance between us. Kinvara said nothing, allowing me to lead this dance of words.


    She waved a dismissive hand, taking the letter and opening it. She only gave it a look and scoffed. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s Prince Doran¡¯s writing for sure,¡± she looked at Kinvara. She stayed silent for a bit and then hummed. ¡°...Dorne supports you, and so does the First Priestess. The letter says you also have a few sellswords¡ªSecond Sons, was it? You¡¯re preparing well,¡± her tone dripped with sarcasm and skepticism. ¡°But I don¡¯t think even your brother, Rhager, could have taken the throne back with this little support. It¡¯d be suicide to support someone with your reputation, and here I thought Prince Doran was a smart man.¡±


    I shrugged, ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve also heard whispers that my sister is stirring trouble in Qarth with her dragons, busy gathering an army for me.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a traveling bard¡¯s fancy tale,¡± the woman didn¡¯t trust a word from my mouth.


    I felt a stir of pride and a flicker of annoyance. Kinvara came to my support, smiling as she spoke, ¡°Not a fancy tale, my lady. As you read, Dorne¡¯s backing is real, and my Faith of Light endorses his claim, as do I myself. Yes, his sister Daenerys has made herself known in Qarth. She¡¯s no rumor¡ªshe¡¯s walked through fire, raised dragons from stone eggs, and is forging a loyal force. These are not empty boasts.¡±


    Olenna shrugged, looking utterly unimpressed. ¡°Sounds to me his sister is more suitable for the throne with these dragons of hers,¡± she chuckled, and behind her, her grandsons also laughed. They didn¡¯t believe in dragons, and my brags came off as incompetence.


    I was starting to see why the Dornish hated the Reachmen. They could get under one¡¯s skin, and even though their words were valid, the way they spoke to them was annoying.


    She continued, looking at me, ¡°Alright, fine. Suppose I handed you the Iron Throne on a platter¡ªsomehow cutting through Lannisters, Baratheons, and all the vipers¡ªyou¡¯re still a Beggar King. A claimant who lost his crown before he ever wore it. Tell me, how do you plan to hold the Seven Kingdoms against the tide of challengers who¡¯d rush in once they smell weakness?¡±


    That was a good point. Holding the throne would be more troublesome than taking it, I think. But I kept my face neutral. ¡°Your caution is understandable, and I have something to convince you,¡± I said. ¡°But I wonder, Lady Olenna, how many sets of ears overhears this conversation? Are we sure this room is safe? I¡¯d hate to have delicate truths carried beyond these walls by less-than-loyal tongues.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed, and I sensed a shift in the air. ¡°Are you questioning the loyalty of my people?¡± she asked, voice soft but threatening.


    I held her gaze and let a moment stretch. ¡°I question whether you can be absolutely certain that no rumor could slip through. I¡¯m not here to insult your household, only to emphasize that some matters deserve a more secure setting.¡±


    Olenna¡¯s knuckles whitened slightly on her cane. The silence grew heavy. Finally, she gave the barest nod. ¡°Very well,¡± she said curtly. ¡°We¡¯ll find a place where no ears lurk behind curtains. Really curious what you plan to show me. By the way, my grandsons can kill you before you can blink. Keep that in mind.¡±


    Arrogant hag, I chuckled as Garlan helped her to her feet, and Loras gestured sharply for us to follow.


    We left that chamber behind and ventured deeper into Highgarden¡¯s castle. Corridors morphed into more private branches, and we passed through a heavy door that closed with a firm thud behind us. The chamber we entered had a vaulted ceiling and a hush that felt ancient. Dust motes swirled in the filtered light, and the tension was nearly tangible.


    Olenna stood before me again, cane in hand, Loras and Garlan close at her flanks, while Kinvara remained at my side. ¡°We¡¯re alone,¡± she said. ¡°No prying eyes, no loose tongues. You wanted privacy. Now you have it. Go on, tell me.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to tell,¡± I said.


    ¡°...If you¡¯re wasting my time, Targaryen boy, I promise you I won¡¯t be amused.¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother with more words. Instead, I snapped my fingers, feeling a quiet surge of power. The air beside me wavered as if reality itself had grown thin. It split with a soft crack, and in that instant, my dragon lunged forth.


    I felt like I¡¯d done this a few times by now, but no matter, it still felt as impactful as the first time. Heat and the scent of char mingled with shock. Loras tried to yank out his sword, but a roar deafened the area. The two knights froze as the sight of a living, breathing dragon halted them mid-motion.


    Garlan¡¯s eyes were wide in disbelief, and even Olenna flinched. Her pupils narrowed, and her lips parted as she took in the creature¡¯s gleaming scales, its wings half-furled in the confined space. Viserion growled, staring at the three of them as flames crackled out of her nostrils. She bared her teeth, and the whole chamber trembled.


    ¡°They¡¯re my friends,¡± I said, raising a hand, ¡°stay calm.¡± For a long heartbeat, no one spoke. The dragon let out a low, rumbling growl that seemed to vibrate through the stone floor. ¡°Good girl,¡± I reached out a hand and patted Viserion¡¯s head. She grumbled but did not bite me. Then, I looked at the hag, ¡°Lady Olenna, as you can see. I have a dragon of my own. And this one¡¯s bigger, stronger, and smarter than the ones my sister has. Is this enough to convince you?¡±


    Olenna¡¯s chest rose and fell in silence. Her knuckles no longer pressed into her cane; they relaxed, and slowly, a grin spread across her face, acknowledging power, audacity, and opportunity.


    I watched that grin form and understood that I had, at last, peeled back her skepticism.


    **


    **


    **

 [33] A Dragon and a Rose

    Chapter 33: A Dragon and a Rose


    ¡ª


    Margaery Tyrell sat by the window, knees drawn tight against her chest, the scent of blooming roses drifting faintly through the open shutters. Beyond the carved frame of latticework, the Mander River slid along its course, sunlight flickering on the gentle currents. A scattering of willow trees bowed their slender branches toward the water¡¯s surface, their leaves swaying in a hush of green and gold. Beyond them, the patchwork fields of the Reach spread wide and peaceful as if the troubles of the realm could not quite breach this pocket of beauty. Yet Margaery felt every ounce of turmoil pressing down on her shoulders.


    She should have been Queen by now. The thought burned behind her eyes as she rested her chin on her folded arms.


    It was not the best marriage. Her husband liked men, and not just any men, but her brother''s. But it was a marriage through which she would have been queen.


    Now here she was, sitting as the ornament of a decaying alliance, left behind after Renly¡¯s death. Her prospects had seemed so bright once¡ªRenly¡¯s court, the promises, the pageantry. All gone now, vanished like morning mist when the sun rose too quickly.


    Margaery tightened her grip, her nails lightly digging into the rich fabric of her gown. She didn¡¯t believe that Brienne of Tarth had killed Renly. Brienne had adored him and would have willingly died for him, not snuffed out his life. No, the culprit must have been Stannis Baratheon, that humorless stag who, if Brianne''s fleeing words were true, deployed sorceries far beyond mortal ken. Likely through that foreign priestess Melisandre, so unsettling with her red robes and secretive smiles.


    Red priestesses. They seemed to be crawling out of the cracks these days. Margaery¡¯s brows furrowed as she remembered another who she¡¯d encountered in Storm¡¯s End. Was her name Nyra? She recalled. Nyra was more beautiful than Melisandre. Margaery recalled her traveling with that Essosi bodyguard and those Dornish Sand Snakes.


    Were they connected somehow? Well, of course, they served the same religion, but were they working together? Were these priestesses part of some larger picture she couldn¡¯t see?


    Would Renly have not died if they had captured Nyra that day?


    It was maddening how few answers she had. She was well-educated and clever; she prided herself on it. Yet here she was, a mere piece on a game board that shifted too quickly for her to follow.


    Dragons supposedly long dead were now rumored to live again, and dark magic walked the world. Mages¡ªreal mages¡ªstirred in the shadows, and noble houses toppled under the weight of betrayals and broken oaths.


    Renly¡¯s death had unraveled so much. His supporters, those who once cheered and flourished under his banners, had scattered like startled birds. Many had bent the knee to Stannis now that Renly¡¯s cause crumbled. But House Tyrell stood in a precarious position. Margaery hated it.


    Her engagement to Renly had been a strategic link, but Stannis already had a wife and no appetite for romantic entanglements. He was as rigid as the steel in the swords he commanded. No easy path lay open for Margaery to seduce the stag and secure her family¡¯s station. Her station.


    She was once supposed to be a Queen, but now her family was busy trying to ensure that the vassal lords weren''t mad.


    She sighed again, a weary exhalation that fogged the air before her. Winter was coming. Outside, a breeze stirred the willow branches, scattering the sunlight into restless patterns on the wooden floor. Margaery¡¯s mind drifted with them, trying to piece together a future from the shards of what remained.


    A soft knock rapped at the door, pulling her from spiraling thoughts. Margaery blinked. What''s this now? She''d asked that nobody disturb her, so this was important.


    She took a final look at the tranquil scene beyond the window, such a contrast to the turmoil roiling inside her, and then turned her head. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Young lady,¡± came her handmaiden¡¯s voice, muffled yet polite through the thick oak. ¡°Lady Olenna is waiting for you¡­ with very important guests.¡±


    Margaery¡¯s heart gave a subtle twist. Important guests? Her grandmother didn¡¯t drop words like that lightly. Guests who warranted calling Margaery out of her brooding?


    She released her legs and stood, smoothing the creases from her gown. Already, her mind shifted into a more controlled persona: the gracious hostess, the poised noblewoman. If nothing else, Margaery Tyrell knew how to smile and charm, listen keenly, and navigate the twisting currents of politics. She inhaled, steadying herself.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll be there soon,¡± she called, her voice clear but calm. She ran her fingers through her hair, brushing away the lingering daze of solitude.


    ****


    The new meeting room had none of the stiff formality of our earlier encounter. Gone were the cramped corners and suspicious glares. Instead, we¡¯d settled into a spacious salon bedecked in the Tyrell style¡ªwarm greens and golds, floral tapestries on the walls, and plush sofas arranged in a gracious circle.


    The scent of fresh blossoms drifted in from the open windows framed by pale curtains. A low table between us offered trays of fruits and delicate pastries.


    How nice. It was as though the Tyrells had decided to host this discussion as a pleasant gathering rather than a political duel. How easy people are.


    Olenna Tyrell sat opposite me, her cane resting against a cushioned arm. Her posture was no less regal than before. Still, she indulged in small talk now, making witty remarks about the weather and the Reach¡¯s abundant harvest, occasionally tossing gentle jibes at her own absent son. Garlan and Loras stood nearby, and their tensions were no more present, or at least they didn''t show it anymore. They managed polite smiles and even a laugh or two when Olenna teased them.


    I maintained an easy grin and accepted their hospitality. At the same time, Kinvara sat by my side and occasionally joined the conversation.


    They asked light questions as if we were old friends catching up. They wanted to know how I had fared these past seventeen years in exile, how I survived after Robert¡¯s Rebellion, and what curiosities I encountered in Essos. They listened, feigning or perhaps feeling genuine interest in my stories of Illyrio¡¯s manse in Pentos, the half-forgotten markets I visited. They showed sympathy that was obviously fake toward my hardships when people mocked me, tricked me, and used my family legacy against me.


    I offered answers that were neat and measured. I spoke of hardship but never begged for sympathy; I hinted at resourcefulness rather than sorrow. A king couldn''t appear to be weak. I painted myself as someone shaped by adversity into a sharper blade, not a broken tool.


    I saw that impressing them with my resilience mattered now¡ªthese people respected strength and cunning, not sob stories.


    Partway through a mild jest I made about Essosi customs, a servant quietly opened the door to allow someone inside. I looked up, ¡°Ah.¡± It was Margaery Tyrell.


    She slipped in with that effortless grace I¡¯d seen in the TV Show¡ªpoised like a dancer and lovely as promised. She looked a little less bright than what I''d last seen her in Storm''s End, with visible bags under her eyes. The recent days mustn''t have been kind to her. Her gown was the soft green of young leaves, her hair arranged in artful coils.


    Outside, birdsong drifted through the window, and the late afternoon sunlight softened the angles of her face, making her seem almost ethereal.


    Olenna¡¯s eyes gleamed, seeing me observe her. She waited until Margaery was close enough to join our circle before turning to me with a smile entirely too pleased with itself. ¡°Look at him,¡± she said to her granddaughter, nodding toward me. ¡°Viserys Targaryen, the one true king, and¡­ your to-be husband.¡±


    Margaery halted, and her eyes widened briefly before narrowing as she glanced from Olenna to me. I felt a prickle of surprise myself, and I spoke up before she had to. ¡°Uh, Lady Olenna? We didn¡¯t talk about this.¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course, we didn¡¯t,¡± Olenna replied, brushing aside my protest with a wave of her hand. ¡°This is a gift, a surprise. I¡¯m sure you appreciate it. Look at her, she¡¯s beautiful.¡± She turned her sharp gaze to Margaery, who had not even acknowledged me at first, too busy gaping at her grandmother in astonishment. After a silent heartbeat, Margaery finally met my eyes.


    I offered a polite smile, and she lowered her gaze as if flustered¡ªthough I suspected that her mind was whirring like clockwork gears beneath that charming exterior.


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    I cleared my throat. ¡°I understand what you mean, Lady Olenna. She is beautiful,¡± I said slowly, shifting in my seat. Kinvara raised an eyebrow, her presence going a little more attentive now. Meanwhile, Garlan and Loras exchanged quick looks, measuring the implications of this sudden betrothal claim.


    ¡°See?¡± Olenna said, triumphant. ¡°So it¡¯s agreed? I give you my army and support, and you give me great-grandchildren. A proper heir to the throne. Sounds perfectly reasonable to me.¡±


    I''d seen this coming, so I kept myself easily composed. I let a small chuckle escape; anything too stiff might ruin this fragile rapport. ¡°I¡¯d be lucky to have such a beautiful wife, except there is one complication,¡± I said. ¡°Remember when I mentioned my alliance with Dorne?¡±


    Olenna¡¯s triumphant face soured slightly. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re engaged to Arianne Martell,¡± she said, letting out a theatrical sigh. ¡°No disrespect meant, but that girl¡¯s reputation is hardly pristine. You should have mentioned this before.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°We¡¯re not engaged, no. But I have left that option open. The Martells have been very supportive. Given their position, it¡¯s wise not to discard that possibility out of hand.¡±


    That was a lie. Oberyn and Doran had chosen to support me while knowing Arianne hated me. It was only after that did I bed that girl. And I''d been clear to Oberyn afterward that I likely wouldn''t marry his niece, so he sent his daughters with me. So they wouldn''t mind if I ended up not marrying Arianne. But this hag did not need to know any of that.


    Olenna¡¯s brows knitted. She tapped a finger on the sofa¡¯s arm, considering my words. ¡°So if you were to be betrothed to Margaery, you might lose favor with Dorne? You think you need them?¡± Her skepticism slipped into her tone, though she kept her voice measured. ¡°The Tyrells are far stronger than the Martells. Why bother appeasing them?¡±


    I inclined my head, acknowledging her point. But Kinvara spoke in my stead, ¡°I¡¯ve had this talk with him before. You are powerful, yes. But a true King of the Seven Kingdoms must consider all the Kingdoms. Dorne¡¯s exclusion would fracture the realm. It is a must.¡±


    I nodded, ¡°I need them included, at least for a time. And as you¡¯ve kindly pointed out, Arianne¡¯s reputation is questionable, making Margaery a far more suitable queen¡ªonce the right moment comes. If you know what I mean.¡±


    I watched Olenna¡¯s eyes narrow thoughtfully. She understood the subtext: publicly, I might not be able to declare Margaery as my future queen until the dust settled. But privately, the promise lay there. If I captured the throne, if all went as planned, why would I choose a less fitting bride over the clever rose before me?


    But at the same time, this woman was a cautious old rose. She might not accept it. It was really a 50/50 situation. She might not agree out of caution, out of spite to make the alliance solid, but she might also agree given she trusted her granddaughter a lot to seduce me to be loyal. Olenna herself had seduced her husband into marriage, and she seemed to see herself in her granddaughter. I was sure she felt confident enough in Margaery to seduce the Beggar King.


    So, I couldn''t be sure what she''d choose.


    Olenna shifted her weight, and her unease was apparent in the slight creak of the sofa. ¡°I don¡¯t like this limbo, I''ll be honest with you,¡± she said curtly. ¡°But I do see the sense in your strategy, Prince. Dorne¡¯s cooperation strengthens your claim. But once you¡¯re secure on the throne, you won¡¯t forget the debt you owe Highgarden, will you? The Tyrells shan¡¯t be cheated out of what we¡¯ve earned. When the time is ripe, Margaery will have the position she deserves. I need your word that Margaery will bear your heir.¡±


    A fragile silence seemed to settle over the room. I kept my face as sincere as I could manage.


    Heir? Good luck with that. I held back a smile. It¡¯s still months till Stannis¡¯ attack, and by then, not only will my dragon be large, but even I¡­ heh. I can choose whoever I want to have as my heir.


    In truth, once I held the throne, I¡¯d have greater freedom to choose. Margaery was not a bad option, but I didn¡¯t plan to rule for a single generation. A dragon owed no fealty to a rose. But that was a matter for the future. For now¡­


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said, locking the moment in place with a final nod. ¡°You have my word.¡±


    From the corner of my eye, I noticed Margaery¡¯s posture relax by a fraction. Although she still looked confused, she trusted her grandmother a lot.


    Kinvara¡¯s gaze flicked between us, calm as ever. Meanwhile, Garlan and Loras observed quietly, their expressions more guarded than before but not openly hostile. Lady Olenna smiled.


    **


    **


    **


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 [34] Flowers of Highgarden

    Chapter 34: Flowers of Highgarden


    ¡ª


    The sun hung lower now, its golden light filtering softly through the tall windows of the meeting room, casting long patterns across the polished floor. Olenna Tyrell remained seated in her cushioned chair, her sharp gaze unwavering as it swept over me, Kinvara, and finally, her granddaughter.


    Margaery stood poised beside her, the glow of the fading sun catching in her hair, though her expression seemed slightly distant¡ªas if she¡¯d been thrown into deep waters without warning.


    ¡°Well,¡± Olenna broke the silence with a crisp clap of her hands, ¡°I suppose we¡¯ve had enough of sitting and staring like statues. Viserys, dear, you¡¯ve had quite the day, haven¡¯t you? It¡¯s time for a little tour of Highgarden. My granddaughter will show you around, and after that, ¡± she gave me a meaningful look, ¡°you should rest, clean yourself up, and we¡¯ll meet again for dinner. My son, Mace, should return tomorrow, though I dare say his presence will change little of importance.¡±


    I inclined my head, a polite smile masking the thought that came unbidden: Although the real head of the Tyrells is still Olenna, it¡¯s good to have Mace Tyrell present. There were benefits to formalities, even when everyone knew who held the reins.


    Margaery¡¯s smile appeared. It was polished and warm but perhaps a little too tight around the edges. She¡¯d need to train that better.


    ¡°Of course, Grandmother,¡± she said, her voice honeyed as always. Then, after a brief hesitation, she turned her gaze toward Olenna. ¡°But may I speak with you privately first? I¡­ I need a moment.¡±


    Olenna¡¯s thin lips curled upward ever so slightly, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement. ¡°Oh dear,¡± she murmured, glancing toward me with a knowing arch of her brow. ¡°I imagine she¡¯s still adjusting to my little surprise earlier. I do hope you understand, Prince. Such¡­ proposals can be a bit much when they¡¯re dropped like a stone into a pond. Especially since her previous marriage ended so poorly.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± I replied smoothly, though I wondered just what Margaery wished to discuss. Olenna didn¡¯t wait for further comment, already turning her attention to her grandsons.


    ¡°Well then,¡± she said, her gaze shifting briefly to Loras before flitting past him like a breeze and landing firmly on Garlan. ¡°Garlan, dear, would you be so kind as to escort your brother-in-law for the time being? Show them the finer sights of our palace¡ªour roses are always worth the admiration, after all.¡±


    Loras stiffened faintly but said nothing. Garlan, who was far more composed and far less dramatic than his younger brother, offered a polite nod. ¡°It would be my pleasure, Grandmother.¡±


    Olenna waved a hand, already dismissing the matter. ¡°Wonderful. Go on, then. I won¡¯t keep the prince waiting longer than I must.¡±


    Kinvara rose gracefully from her seat, crimson robes flowing like molten silk behind her, still wearing her calm smile. ¡°Then I¡¯ll see you later, Lady Olenna,¡± she said. I also stood, offering Margaery a small nod before following Garlan toward the door.


    The last I saw of Olenna was how she leaned toward Margaery, her eyes glinting with quiet mischief as she whispered something low. Whatever the words were, they made Margaery¡¯s expression shift¡ªsurprise flickering briefly across her face.


    The heavy wooden door closed behind us with a quiet thud, leaving Olenna and Margaery in their private world.


    ****


    ¡°¡­and without food, even the greatest army becomes little more than a starving mob,¡± Garlan said, his voice steady and thoughtful. ¡°Swords win battles, but grain wins wars, Prince Viserys. At least, that¡¯s what my father always says, even when others scoff at him for worrying too much about harvests.¡±


    ¡°Smart man,¡± I nodded, considering his words as we walked through the sprawling halls of Highgarden. Garlan Tyrell wasn¡¯t just a knight with a steady hand¡ªhe was pragmatic, a rare quality in a world where most Knights equated power with swords alone. He spoke like someone who understood the true weight of leadership, a strength that contrasted sharply with Loras¡¯s brash pride.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you see the vision,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Well, of course, because you¡¯re not wrong,¡± I replied, glancing at him. ¡°Armies march on their stomachs. Many men with crowns forget that until it¡¯s too late.¡±


    Kinvara, walking beside me, chimed in with her calm voice. ¡°A starving army becomes a desperate one. And desperation? That can kill even kings.¡± She looked at Garlan with faint approval. ¡°It seems the Reach has wise men among its sons.¡±


    Garlan smiled faintly at that, a humble tilt of his head. ¡°I try to see what others miss, my lady.¡±


    Before the conversation could deepen, soft footfalls echoed through the corridor, and we turned to see Margaery approaching. Her earlier uncertainty seemed to have melted away, replaced with a poise that A-class actresses showed back on Earth. She wore a bright, practiced smile that could disarm kings and charm courtiers, though I wondered how much of it was genuine.


    ¡°Prince Viserys,¡± she greeted, dipping her head in a graceful nod. Her gaze shifted to Kinvara, warm but pointed. ¡°And Lady Kinvara, always a pleasure. Apologies for my delay, but I¡¯ll show you around now, Prince.¡± Her tone was cheerful. Then she looked at Kinvara and added, ¡°My lady, I¡¯ve prepared a warm bath for you already. I thought you might want to take some time to refresh yourself after such a long journey.¡±


    Kinvara¡¯s lips curled ever so slightly, clearly reading the intent, but she bowed her head with a placid smile. ¡°You¡¯re very thoughtful, Lady Margaery. I¡¯ll take your advice, then. Prince Viserys, enjoy the tour.¡± She gave me a quick glance, her knowing look saying play the game well.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I replied, watching as Kinvara glided off with a servant who had appeared just in time. The Tyrells¡¯ efficiency in these small details was amusing.


    Margaery turned back to me, her expression bright as ever. ¡°Shall we, Your Grace?¡±


    ¡°Lead the way,¡± I said smoothly.


    She turned, and I followed her as she led me deeper into Highgarden. The halls were wide and filled with sunlight. They were lined with tapestries of emerald and gold depicting scenes of blooming roses, flowing rivers, and great battles fought under verdant banners. Each step echoed faintly on the polished stone as Margaery explained the palace¡¯s history with effortless charm.


    ¡°The gardens here,¡± she gestured lightly as we passed an arched window that revealed a sea of colors below, ¡°were designed by my great-grandmother. Every flower was carefully chosen to reflect the Reach¡¯s abundance and beauty.¡±


    I let her words wash over me, taking in the sights she pointed out¡ªa marble statue of Garth Greenhand, carved so finely it seemed to breathe; murals depicting the Tyrells¡¯ rise after the fall of House Gardener; and frescoes of fertile fields stretching into endless horizons.


    ¡°These stories serve as reminders,¡± she continued, her voice melodic. ¡°That the Reach is not just land¡ªit¡¯s life itself. Our crops feed Westeros. Our flowers bloom long after winter comes for the rest.¡±


    Her words, though elegantly spoken, carried an undercurrent of pride. Not arrogance, just facts. I wasn¡¯t lying when I agreed with Garlan¡¯s point about food. I admired that this girl knew her strength. She understood her family¡¯s power, one who wouldn¡¯t hesitate to wield it in the name of ambition.


    We stopped near a grand window with an arched frame taller than us. The view stretched out far beyond the walls of Highgarden. It was a mosaic of green fields dotted with villages, their neat lines of crops stretching to the banks of the Mander River. The water gleamed beneath the sinking sun, its reflection rippling like liquid gold.


    Margaery¡¯s tone shifted, softening. ¡°I must say, Prince Viserys, I am surprised by you.¡±


    I glanced at her, an eyebrow arching faintly. ¡°Oh? What part? I¡¯ve just been listening, didn¡¯t even say anything profound,¡± I joked, making her laugh. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She hesitated, her hands delicately resting on the stone ledge. ¡°Well, you seem so¡­ determined. So certain of your path. It¡¯s refreshing to see.¡± Her voice dropped slightly, more candid now. ¡°And since we¡¯re speaking honestly, I must assure you¡ªRenly and I¡­¡± Her gaze remained fixed on the fields below, and then she looked at my eyes. ¡°Our marriage was never consummated.¡±


    I blinked, feigning surprise as if that couldn¡¯t be. ¡°No way,¡± I said, adding disbelief in my voice. ¡°How could a man hold back from a beauty like you?¡±


    A small laugh slipped past her lips. ¡°Sweet words, but the explanation is quite simple. Because, Your Grace, you¡¯ve been in Essos too long. You wouldn¡¯t know that Renly¡­ preferred the company of men. You can ask around. People know.¡±


    That, I had known, of course. Hearing it from her lips made it more amusing; she was degrading her ex-husband before me in an attempt to appear more likable. How cute. Rather than replying, I stepped closer, closing the distance between us. Gently, I reached out and took her by the waist, pulling her just enough that our bodies nearly touched.


    ¡°Well,¡± I said, my voice low, ¡°for your knowledge, and I think you¡¯ll prefer knowing this, I am perfectly interested in women.¡±


    Margaery tilted her head, her hands pressing lightly against my chest in the gentlest protest. Her smile remained, though there was a glimmer of calculation in her eyes. ¡°That, I¡¯m sure of,¡± she replied softly. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll be happy in that regard¡­ but onlyyy¡­ after marriage~.¡± With that, she pushed herself back ever so slightly, slipping free of my hold like a dancer stepping out of rhythm.


    I smirked faintly, holding back the instinct to raise a curious eyebrow. Her attempts are adorable. Would have worked on a different Viserys. Since she¡¯d talked with Olenna earlier, I¡¯d expected her to try to ensnare me, to weave her charms like a net. Instead, she was doing withdrawal play¡ªplaying coy, dangling the bait just out of reach. It was a clever tactic that would have worked on the rumored Viserys.


    ¡°A pity, but we¡¯re all religious people here, I understand,¡± I said, making her smile.


    Her expression softened again, and for the first time, there was something resembling genuine curiosity in her voice. ¡°Prince Viserys¡­ I heard about your dragon earlier from grandmother. Is it true? She told me not to approach this topic as you might be offended by my doubts, but I think you¡¯re an easy-going man so I¡¯m asking. Do you¡­ do you really have one?¡±


    I revealed a slow smile. She wanted to see my power¡ªto glimpse the living myth that set me apart. Instead, I leaned closer and whispered, ¡°After marriage.¡±


    Her smile faltered momentarily, her lips parting in surprise, and then she quickly composed herself, giggling. ¡°...Well played.¡±


    **


    **


    **

 [35] Let’s Feast After We Take the Throne

    Chapter 35:  Let¡¯s Feast After We Take the Throne


    ¡ª


    I stepped into the meeting room bathed in the early light of a new day, where the scent of fresh polish and floral arrangements lingered. The Tyrells had prepared well, as always. Mace Tyrell stood by the tall windows, broad-bellied and broad-smiled, glancing over his shoulder at my approach.


    His mother, Olenna, occupied the same cushioned chair as yesterday, her cane resting within easy reach. Garlan Tyrell stood to one side, calm and attentive, as he nodded at me. Margaery and Loras were absent¡ªtheir presence was not required for this more private talk. Kinvara stood at my side, red robes following behind her.


    I nodded politely. ¡°Lord Mace,¡± I said, measuring my words. ¡°You look healthy and happy, I¡¯m glad. I trust you had a successful hunt?¡±


    Mace turned fully, chuckling as he quickly approached me and pulled me into a hug. ¡°Oh, quite. A few boars, some pheasants. Good sport, if a bit too easy.¡± His hearty laugh reverberated off the high ceiling. ¡°Though I must admit, I never expected to return to such good news. Although I¡¯d missed all the excitement, my mother has told me enough to know we¡¯ve much to discuss.¡±


    ¡°That she must have, I don¡¯t doubt,¡± I said.


    ¡°Oh, Prince Viserys, you look so much like your legendary brother! Prince Rhaegar, such a strong and fine man. Unfortunately, it seems his title of ¡®Last Dragon¡¯ was a false tale as I stand before you. You¡¯d surely surpass his glory in no time! Prince, you have no idea how angry I was when Robert took the throne. How heartbroken I was to hear how you and your sister were forced to flee! Such a pitiful story,¡± the man said, trying a bit too hard to appear friendly and kind. I just accepted it with a smile.


    Olenna¡¯s eyes sparkled with amusement as she hid her annoyance at her son¡¯s sugary words. He didn¡¯t seem to realize how easily he was seen through by everyone. Mace¡¯s eyes turned to Kinvara. ¡°It¡¯s been some time, Lady Kinvara,¡± she said softly. ¡°Do you recall meeting me in Volantis, years ago?¡± S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Kinvara¡¯s eyes lit with recognition as she stepped forward. ¡°Ah, yes, my lord. The Red Temple affair, if I¡¯m not mistaken. I never thought I¡¯d see you again, and certainly not like this. I hope the years have been kind to you.¡±


    He chuckled, ¡°They have, my lady. And now, here we are, at another crossroads.¡± Mace rubbed his hands together, his mood jovial but gaining some focus. ¡°But as excited as I feel, I can¡¯t afford to waste any of our time. Let¡¯s discuss the important matters, shall we?¡±


    I nodded and took a seat with Kinvara by my side. Mace Tyrell sat beside his mother. Some servants brought fruits and drinks, and I sipped some juice as he spoke. ¡°Firstly, I have no quarrel with my mother¡¯s decisions, Prince Viserys. Far from it. I¡¯m glad. If she thinks supporting your cause is wise, I believe her. She¡¯s the wisest woman I know.¡±


    ¡°I agree on that,¡± I nodded at Olenna. Although I¡¯d argue that Kinvara was smarter than her, Olenna was more dangerous. So far, Kinvara was an ally; Olenna could never be. Her granddaughter¡¯s happiness was also a large priority to her, even if our family names were allies.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad. But let¡¯s not mince words: the realm stands on a knife¡¯s edge. You want to take what¡¯s yours, but four Kings stand in your way. Joffrey Baratheon and Stannis Baratheon, namely. King¡¯s Landing will soon be attacked from what I know, and amid this all, you¡¯re planning to take the throne. How? All I see is chaos. Let¡¯s get into the intricate matters.¡±


    I nodded and opened my mouth.


    We spoke quietly for a time¡ªnames of bannermen, Stannis¡¯s rumored strategy, the state of King¡¯s Landing¡¯s granaries and walls, and, more importantly, the foolishness of Joffrey Baratheon. I gave them just enough to understand my position without laying my entire play bare. Because while I needed their support, they didn¡¯t need to know all my cards.


    Unlike what I¡¯d concluded before, Lord Mace wasn¡¯t useless. Olenna Tyrell surely was more valuable than him, but she couldn¡¯t plan a war with me. He could. Even if he was fat and slow, he still had experience that I didn¡¯t. It was a good talk, and we soon had a strategy to follow.


    ¡°In that case,¡± he reached out a hand, ¡°let¡¯s feast after we take the throne.¡±


    I accepted his hand and smiled brightly. The alliance had solidified with Lord Tyrell¡¯s words. Everything was ready, and now, we just had to wait till the Battle of Blackwater.


    ****


    After the lengthy talk, I began to stroll through the gardens. I wasn¡¯t alone; Granny Tyrell was on my arm as if we were grandmother and grandson strolling through a summer afternoon. It wasn¡¯t hard to believe her sweet act given the face of Diana Rigg, and it wasn¡¯t fully an act either. She was being sweet to her to-be grandson-in-law. What was wrong with it?


    The midday sun had climbed higher, casting a gentle warmth over the manicured hedges and bright petals that bobbed in the gentle breeze.


    The fragrance of roses and herbs drifted around us, discreet servants keeping a tactful distance as we chatted about lighter stuff. But Olenna Tyrell had better stuff to do than talk about the smells of her garden with me, and as I¡¯d expected, she soon moved to the thing she wanted.


    ¡°My dear prince,¡± Olenna began, her tone almost affectionate, ¡°I¡¯m glad the planning went well, but public perception matters.¡±


    ¡°You want to announce my presence here?¡±


    ¡°I was thinking of that, yes. We can¡¯t simply whisper alliances in dark rooms and expect the lords of Westeros to understand. This game doesn¡¯t work like that, and you need to show your face at least. A small gathering¡­ a garden party, let¡¯s say. Something to show the world that House Tyrell isn¡¯t supporting a ghost but the legitimate Targaryen Heir. No betrothal will be announced there¡ªyet¡ªdon¡¯t worry, but a favorable understanding will soothe troubled minds. What do you say?¡±


    I cast her a sidelong glance. It was a good idea for both of us; they¡¯d be able to imply marriage through it, but at the same time, they wouldn¡¯t be able to back off their support after such a show. Well, they could, but it¡¯d be more troublesome. At the same time, it¡¯d mean the entire realm would know about me. That Viserys Targaryen was in Westeros, but, once again, that was not a bad thing.


    ¡°I can work with that,¡± I said, ¡°but let¡¯s not invite Kinvara, and nobody should know that there¡¯s a Red Priestess here.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± she raised an eyebrow. ¡°You don¡¯t trust her?¡±


    ¡°I do. It¡¯s not because of trust. It¡¯s because we have to return to King¡¯s Landing after this, and it¡¯d be suspicious to people that when the Red Priestess in King¡¯s Landing vanished for a few weeks, another Red Priestess was seen in the Reach supporting a Targaryen.¡±


    ¡°Fair, I can agree to that,¡± she nodded, her grip on my arm surprisingly firm. ¡°We Tyrells excel at delicate displays, Prince. Since you¡¯re on board, there will be a feast tomorrow, and a few select lords will be invited. Hmm,¡± she pondered, and, to captivate them, a little spectacle¡ªperhaps a friendly duel in the training yard? What do you say?¡±


    ¡°Interesting. Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, let them see your prowess. Although a King doesn¡¯t have to be a great fighter in my book, these men are different. And if they witness your skill firsthand, they¡¯ll think twice before doubting you.¡±


    I allowed a small smile. ¡°A duel? With whom?¡±


    Olenna¡¯s eyes danced. ¡°Oh, how about Loras? Handsome and beloved, a famous knight. It¡¯ll entertain them, and a well-managed outcome won¡¯t harm anyone¡¯s pride.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°You want your grandson to lose hard in front of so many lords?¡± I tutted softly. ¡°He might not thank you for that.¡±


    Her laugh was low and wry. ¡°Oh, he won¡¯t lose to you in a real battle. That¡¯s why we¡¯ll arrange a draw. He¡¯ll hold back, and you won¡¯t be embarrassed too harshly.¡±


    I tilted my head, meeting her cunning gaze. ¡°I think you underestimate my strength, my lady. Maybe it¡¯ll help change your mindset, too if I do well in the duel. Perhaps choose someone else? I wouldn¡¯t want to cast a shadow on your family¡¯s golden knight with a genuine contest.¡±


    Olenna scoffed lightly, a sound mingling affection and challenge. ¡°How confident. But I heard you¡¯re a part of the Second Sons now, skillful sellswords. So I suppose you might have some skills¡­ Very well, I¡¯ll choose another worthy opponent. I look forward to your performance, Prince.¡±


    I offered a slight nod, my smile not faltering. Together we continued walking through the lush greenery, scents of jasmine and rose lingering in the warm air.


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: I liked Diana¡¯s performance a lot in the show, RIP. And this is going to be big because everyone would realize that the shadow of the Targaryen Dynasty is looming over them again. Soon, Viserys will meet another or two King I think, but that¡¯s after he returns to King¡¯s Landing.


    As for this knight Viserys is supposed to fight, any guesses? Suggestions? ?


    Come find fellow fans on Discord and more chapters on Patreon!


    Patreon: Patreon.com/Master4thWall


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 [36] Garden Party of Highgarden

    Chapter 36: Garden Party of Highgarden


    ¡ª


    The hall brimmed with color and murmured tension. Lords and ladies of the Reach mingled under the evening sky, surrounded by a flower garden, where late-afternoon light slanted across polished floors. Long tables bore polished silver goblets and platters of ripe fruits, fine cheeses, and honeyed pastries. Smallfolk servants, dressed in discreet shades of green and gold, moved quietly through the crowd, refilling cups and offering plates. Every corner was alive with low laughter and the muted clink of cups meeting in cautious toasts.


    The people gathered here were no small names, they were big shots of the Reach. Lord Paxter Redwyne stood with his sons near a table piled high with grapes, and Lord Mathis Rowan leaned in close to Lord Owen Oakheart, their brows knitting as they spoke in hushed tones.


    Lord Baelor Hightower and Lord Randyll Tarly, both known for stern discipline and unwavering loyalty, hovered at one end of the room, discussing recent levy counts and the health of the harvest. Beesbury, Mullendore, Florent¡ªlesser names but still weighted with history in this land of fields¡ªdrifted in and out of small clusters. They were forging quiet alliances or seeking reassurances.


    At the center of it all, Lord Mace Tyrell smiled broadly but listened more than he spoke. His wife, Alerie Tyrell, was with him. They were surrounded by soft laughter and polite nods, yet there was an undercurrent of dissatisfaction that he could almost taste from these lords, as if they weren''t quite happy to gather here.


    Garlan and Loras were also present, the former with his wife, Lady Leonette. They entrained the guests, keeping things fun. Willas Tyrell, the heir of Highgarden, sat among some of the lords. He''d been away from home till today, and was sitting due to his injury, while his pet falcon sat on his shoulders.


    The beginning of the garden party went without an issue, but time revealed his suspicions to be true.


    ¡°Lord Mace,¡± Randyll Tarly approached him, a goblet of wine in one hand and a narrowed look in his eyes.


    ¡°Lord Tarly?¡± Mace looked at him curiously.


    ¡°I have an issue,¡± he said. The bald man¡¯s reputation as a formidable warrior and an uncompromising lord preceded him, and he wasted no time on pleasantries.  ¡°I thought Lady Olenna was going to come visit me yesterday. I waited all day, and then a raven notified me otherwise. Then, I received a sudden invitation to this banquet. I¡¯ll admit, I hesitated to accept at first, it seems insulting, but here I am. My wife pushed me. Yet I don¡¯t see Lady Olenna. Is she avoiding us?¡±


    A hush rippled outward from this confrontation. It was light, but enough that a few lords who had been distracted by their conversations turned discreetly to listen. The Tyrells¡¯ recent shift in allegiance, supporting the late King Renly against the crown, had left many of these men wanting answers. They hadn¡¯t questioned it before, but after Renly¡¯s death it grew into a problem.


    They knew where the true power in Highgarden lay, and it was not solely in Mace¡¯s broad shoulders. Olenna Tyrell¡¯s absence at such a gathering stirred annoyance after such enormous events had been going on in the realm.


    Mace Tyrell cleared his throat, his smile faltering at the edges. ¡°I assure you, Lord Randyll, my mother is¡ª¡± He began, but before he could say more, the sound of slow footsteps drew all eyes toward the entrance of the garden.


    Lady Olenna Tyrell made her entrance with measured steps, being accompanied by Margery, leaning lightly on her cane, yet losing none of her commanding presence. Margaery revealed a smile at the lords as they approached.


    Olenna wore a gown of deep green and gold, the Tyrell rose subtly embroidered along the hem. Her sharp eyes surveyed the room without hurry, taking note of each face that turned to her. The earlier dissatisfaction seemed to vanish in thin air in her presence. Nobody in the Reach dared to offend her. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°Good lords,¡± she said, voice warm and precise, cutting through the garden''s buzz. ¡°I realize how confused you must be recently, and I''m pleased you all accepted our invitation despite that. As for those Houses that chose to ignore this invitation, I''ll see to them,¡± she smiled. It was cold. ¡°My apologies, let''s waste time on this. The truth is, I have something¡­ significant to share with you today.¡±


    She took everyone''s expression, as they exchanged glances before she added, Something that will shape the future of the Reach, and perhaps all of Westeros.¡±


    An expectant hush fell. Randyll Tarly¡¯s frown deepened, but he waited, watching her carefully. Olenna swept her gaze across the assembly, savoring the attention. Then she made a small gesture toward the side door, and a figure stepped forward.


    He was clad in finely tailored garments that bore subtle hints of Targaryen heraldry¡ªa rich black doublet worked with crimson thread, wearing a princely smile, a cape trailing behind his tall shoulders. His silver-blond hair caught the fading daylight, and he moved with quiet assurance. Lady Olenna lifted her chin proudly.


    ¡°Lords of the Reach,¡± she said, ¡°allow me to present to you the rightful King, Viserys Targaryen, third of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.¡± She smiled, ¡°A king who returned to these shores from Essos, with allies and promises that warrant your ears, your respect, and your swords.¡±


    A stunned silence settled in, while Margarey made sure to smile at Viserys. He returned it. Goblets hovered in mid-air, words died on tongues. Many had heard rumors, whispers on the wind, thanks to the incident where he killed two knights. But seeing him here, in the heart of Highgarden under the Queen of Thorns¡¯ wings, made it real in a way that sent chills through every spine.


    For one beat of a heart, no one moved. Then the lords began to exchange hurried glances, questions smoldering in their eyes. Olenna allowed herself the smallest of smiles, pleased by the impact.


    ****


    I stood before them, the lords of the Reach, gathered beneath the fading daylight that slanted through the clouds. Their eyes, some wide with astonishment, others narrowed with curiosity, rested on me. Old Olenna¡¯s announcement had stunned them into silence. Now it was my turn to take the stage.


    A few lords whispered anxiously near Mace Tyrell, hushed words I could not fully catch. Instead of straining to listen, I focused on Randyll Tarly as he was the nearest. He stood somewhat apart, his arms at his sides, jaw set in a line.


    A formidable man by reputation, he had once struck fear into Robert Baratheon¡¯s ranks during the Rebellion. He was the only man who Robert had experienced defeat to.


    I gave him a nod and a smile as if greeting an old ally. ¡°Lord Randyll,¡± I said, my voice carrying just enough warmth. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of your valor in battle¡ªthe time you bested Robert¡¯s forces. A remarkable feat. I was young back then, no older than five, but I felt hope when I heard that story. Many tales reach my ears, but that one I believe. I¡¯m glad to see you still hale and strong.¡±


    He hesitated, the muscles in his neck working as he weighed his response. The Tarlys had served Targaryens loyally in the past, and I sensed a spark of recognition flicker behind his stern gaze. In the show, he''d gone against his established character and defied Dany.


    I was curious if he''d act the same in this real world.


    Our gazes locked. I kept smiling. Slowly, as if drawn by old oaths and ancient loyalties, he bent his knee. ¡°Your Grace,¡± he said at last, voice steady if subdued.


    ¡°Your Grace!¡± A young voice followed suit, and I recognised him as Dickon Tarly, Randyll¡¯s son.


    The small knot of uncertainty in my chest loosened. One by one, other lords began to kneel¡ªsome quickly, others slower, grudgingly perhaps. Not all bent at first, but a single pointed look from Olenna Tyrell, standing beside me with her cane, reminded them of their place in the Reach. It was her land they ruled beneath her patronage; defiance would not be wise. With reluctance, the last dissenters knelt, and a quiet hush settled.


    I gestured for them to rise, spreading my hands in a conciliatory manner. ¡°I see quite the hesitation here.¡±


    Many stiffened but I just smiled, ¡°My lords, I know you¡¯ve heard many rumors about me¡ªsome that paint me as weak, mad, or unfit. Lies spread by those who fear a Targaryen¡¯s return, and some by myself, to stay in hiding. It''s shameful, really, but it was the best choice at that time. I was a kid; I also had a little sister to take care of. I didn''t want to appear dangerous. Assassins are everywhere. But I''ve decided that I won''t hide anymore. That''s why I''m here. I understand your caution. You¡¯ve seen five kings vie for thrones, and now I appear to claim it too. Perhaps you doubt my strength or worthiness.¡±


    Some exchanged glances, others looked away, still uncertain. I let them hold their doubts for a moment, then continued. ¡°I am not here to beg your favor with empty words. I will show you my mettle, my skill, and let you judge whether I am the Targaryen this realm deserves.¡±


    From a servant¡¯s hand, a spear arced through the air, and I caught it easily. Its shaft felt sturdy in my grip, reassuring. I turned, raising an eyebrow, ¡°Of course, a single battle isn''t enough to show worthiness, but I want to at least disprove some of the rumors. Now, who among you would test my prowess?¡± I said, and nobody moved. ¡°What, I didn''t know the Lords of Reach are little girls. Nobody is brave enough?¡±


    There was a rustle, and then Ser Hobber and Ser Horas Redwyne stepped forward. Twins, both broad-shouldered, orange-haired, and freckled. I eyed them as they bowed briefly. ¡°Forgive us, my lord,¡± said one of them, Hobber or Horas, hard to tell them apart, ¡°but we cannot kneel under a king who is titled a Beggar, a weak coward. We¡­ mean no disrespect. We simply want certainty that you''re strong.¡±


    A murmured agreement rippled through the crowd. I inclined my head, smiling. ¡°I appreciate your honesty, Sers. It is far better than talking behind my back. You¡¯ve challenged me, so let¡¯s make it interesting: I¡¯ll face you both at the same time.¡±


    A collective gasp rippled through the lords, and even the twins exchanged startled looks. They hadn''t expected that. I was fairly sure they''d been notified about a duel by Olenna from the beginning, even if they might not have known who they''d fight against. But they didn''t know I''d challenge them both.


    Olenna¡¯s gaze flicked to me, a hint of surprise and worry in her eyes. This was more than she¡¯d arranged, and she worried I was biting more than I could chew. I just waited.


    ¡°Let¡¯s give them some space!¡± A man shouted, and I recognised him as Lord Hightower.


    A moment later, the crowd parted, forming a rough circle. The Redwyne twins hesitated, but Olenna nodded at them. Soon, I faced the two of them in a makeshift arena.


    The twins lifted their practice swords. They were fine steel. I could see the determination in their stances. They wouldn¡¯t hold back too much when I''d dared challenge them both. They wanted to prove their own worth, too, and they genuinely was interested in what I could offer.


    ¡°Start!¡± lord Hightower shouted.


    I shifted my footing, spear in hand, letting the tension hum through my muscles. Without further ceremony, the twins advanced, trying to flank me.


    I danced backward, spear tip flicking like a snake¡¯s tongue. One lunged, I parried, the other swung low, and I twisted away. ¡°You guys are slow, young lords,¡± I said, my spear flowing in my grip, and my movements fluid, as if honed by years among the sellswords and sparring arenas of Essos.


    In truth, I''ve not been training for more than six months.


    Their attacks were earnest but not cunning enough. I didn''t want to drag this. After a heartbeat of careful observation, I countered¡ªknocking one twin off balance with a swift strike with the blunt side, then spinning to catch the other¡¯s blade with my spearhead and send him stumbling.


    My spear moved like a spark of lightning. Their attempts to coordinate failed under the relentless pressure of my quick thrusts and feints. Within moments, I trapped them both in a flurry of blows, rattling their swords out of their grips. They backed up, breathing hard, eyes wide.


    I decided to finish it decisively, jumping into steps, spinning in the air, and knocking one¡¯s feet out from under him with a low sweep and catching the other across the helm with the spear shaft. He resisted, and in response, I kicked him in the chest. ¡°Argh!¡± He was sent his heavy body flying back into the flowers, screaming in agony.


    Neither of them moved, unconscious. Gasps rose from the crowd¡ªshock and full of awe. They hadn''t expected such a swift and loud ending.


    For a moment, silence reigned. ¡°Great fight!¡± Then Olenna began to clap, the sound sharp and clear, and Margaery also followed. The others did the same, applause rippling through the hall. I straightened, letting the spear rest at my side, and offered a gracious nod.


    It was not some outstanding fight, but I had made my point. Let them doubt me no longer. I was Viserys Targaryen, and I would not let anyone insult me using the rumors of my past self.


    **


    **


    **

 [37] A Hundred Thousand Men’s Backing

    Chapter 37: A Hundred Thousand Men¡¯s Backing


    ¡ª


    The garden party continued around us as Willas Tyrell, and I sat on a broad marble terrace overlooking Highgarden¡¯s famed rose gardens. He was a skinny man but stylish. Despite his heirship and his venerable seat, Willas had none of the overbearing airs I¡¯d come to expect from noble scions. Instead, he greeted me with a smile that felt genuinely warm.


    ¡°Prince Viserys,¡± he said, his voice gentle, ¡°great fight earlier. I must say, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you properly. I had hoped to attend yesterday''s meeting but only returned home this morning.¡± He tapped his knee, which he had injured in a joust long ago. ¡°Travel can be a challenge.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s perfectly fine, Willas,¡± I replied, offering my hand. ¡°You do seem well, all things considered.¡±


    He laughed lightly. ¡°Yes, I manage. My old friend Oberyn pokes fun at my limp to this day, but it was always in good humor. I do miss him. Thanks to you, I¡¯m glad to hear we may be coming closer to Dorne.¡±


    I inclined my head. ¡°Some alliances are written in blood, others in shared interest. With the Tyrells and Martells, it might be both.¡±


    I knew this man had hurt his legs in a tourney against Oberyn Martell years ago. Lord Mace hated Oberyn because of that, but Willas himself bore no ill intent for the man. Rather, I think he had a genuine fondness for the Dornish Prince, which perhaps extended to all of Dorne. This boded well, especially for me; Dorne and Reach were generational enemies, but with Willas here, bridging Reach and Dorne would be possible. That would solidify my claim immeasurably.


    He nodded, his gaze drifting across the garden¡¯s expanse. ¡°We have much to gain from each other, I believe. With this excuse, perhaps I could visit Dorne in the near future to discuss war plans. And,¡± he whispered, ¡°thanks to your dragons, not just us, I suspect all the border lords with bad history may find a reason to set aside old quarrels.¡±


    I smiled at that, ¡°Hopefully.¡± We conversed for a bit longer, although it was more of a chat among friends rather than a political discussion between a King and his Lord. I was starting to like Reach; first Garlan, and now his older brother. They were fun to talk to.


    Then, I excused myself to mingle further among the guests. The garden party continued without obvious friction. I noticed that Garlan and Loras entertained some lesser lords while Mace ambled around, shaking hands. Over to one side, near a display of orchard fruits and spiced wine, House Hightower held court.


    Lord Leyton Hightower, called the Old Man of Oldtown, wasn¡¯t here. He never attended these social gatherings; his heir, Baelor Hightower, attended in his stead. I met up with the man, enjoying their compliments about the fight earlier, sharing some conversations, stories, and a drink. Some other lords joined us, and we spent half an hour there.


    A bit later, I distanced myself from that group to find others. Lord Merryweather, a tall, easygoing man with a beer belly, eyed me with a sort of familial curiosity. His wife, Lady Taena, stood close by. I approached them and got through the typical greeting phase.


    Soon, Lady Merryweather began to speak much more than her husband. He stood to the side as she flowed the conversation. ¡°We have a daughter your age,¡± she said, her tone soft but unmistakably suggestive as she ran a hand through my chest. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯ll come visit us sometime? Our families were practically joined, were they not?¡±


    She let out a throaty laugh, and her husband merely smiled as though fully content with his wife¡¯s flirtations. It struck me that Taena didn¡¯t consider any boundary she couldn¡¯t casually cross. She was a beauty of olive skin, full lips, raven hair, and a curvy body. Her accent carried a sultry Myrish lilt, and her eyes gleamed with mischief.


    I smiled politely, keeping my kingly image. I had a libido problem, but I didn¡¯t want to ruin my image on my first appearance, so I took a step back. ¡°Lady Merryweather, please,¡± I said, and she just smiled. Bold woman.


    House Merryweather was a little special, I guess. My father had a mistress from this house, though that was decades past. So this woman was trying to act like family. ¡°Please, consider it, Your Grace. If not today, then some other time?¡± Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°It would be my pleasure,¡± I answered diplomatically, returning her smile in kind. ¡°Perhaps when these turbulent times settle, I¡¯ll pay your land a friendly visit.¡±


    She sipped her wine, a glint of amusement lighting her dark eyes. ¡°I look forward to it.¡±


    I was curious about her daughter, although not by much. Since my father had a mistress there, could this girl have some Targaryen blood? It could be that the mistress was this girl''s grandmother, although unlikely. So I¡¯d visit their land someday.


    ¡°As you should-¡± I started, but I couldn¡¯t finish my words. A sudden hush gripped the crowd. The air shifted, and I felt a prickle at the back of my neck. Then, the air snapped like a string pulled too tight.


    ¨C Swishh!


    Something blurred past a potted rosebush, and a crossbow bolt whistled toward me. Instinct¡ªor luck perhaps¡ªmade me jerk my arm up, my eyes lighting up. The bolt struck my palm, biting half an inch in. Pain flashed bright and immediate.


    Gasps erupted. Mace Tyrell roared in rage, fists clenched, as he shouted for the guards. I grit my teeth, blood trickling from my hand, though it did not pierce fully. Guards rushed for the spot where the shot had originated, spears at hand, as one of them yanked out a person. I glared, only to see a limp body being pulled out of the brush, the assassin already dead by unknown means.


    A chaotic murmur washed over the garden. Lords stood in shock, some drawing daggers or pressing back against the tables. Everything hung in tense confusion for a heartbeat. Then I steadied myself, ignoring the sting in my palm, and raised my voice over the crowd.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said sharply, letting the hush settle. ¡°Though I suspect that arrow might have punctured more than my flesh¡ªit¡¯s wounded our trust, has it not? Someone here wanted me dead, one of you lords, while standing in Highgarden.¡±


    Margaery rushed forward, grabbing my hand and gasping in shock. Olenna Tyrell hurried behind, leaning on her cane as she ignored my eyes and stared at my hand, ¡°Prince Viserys, are you¡ª¡±


    I waved away the worry, pulling out the bolt with a grimace. Blood welled on my palm, but it was a small wound compared to what might have been. Margaery tried to call for servants, but I stopped her. I looked at the crowd and said, ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve faced danger, my lords, nor will it be the last.¡± I lifted my hand, showing the bloody bolt tip. It had barely gone through half an inch of my palm. My 32 END wasn¡¯t for show. ¡°But I¡¯ll say this: that was a feeble attempt. I am far stronger than my father and brother. If our enemies think of me so easily dispatched, they¡¯ll need sharper arrows.¡±


    The tension began to subside, replaced by a collective realization that something bigger was at play. It wasn¡¯t normal to block a crossbow with a hand.


    Where I was merely bleeding, a lesser man would have lost their head as the arrow would have pierced through his hand. Randyll Tarly¡¯s face had hardened like stone. Paxter Redwyne, Baelor Hightower, and the rest exchanged somber glances. Loyalty, or at least sympathy, slowly crept into their expressions¡ªif only out of false outrage.


    ¡°My lords,¡± I continued, voice calmer now. ¡°Do not let this cowardly act undermine our unity. Let it serve instead as a warning of how truly threatened our foes must feel. I won¡¯t cower or flee. My Targaryen blood runs hot, and I¡¯ll stand firm.¡±


    A wave of murmured agreement passed through the watchers. Among them, Margaery, surprisingly, showed sincere concern. I could see genuine worry in her eyes as she called for maids to bring bandages and stuff. I saw true fear in her eyes. I guess losing one husband was enough for her, I noted. In the TV show, she¡¯d lost three.


    Garlan Tyrell whispered instructions to the guards to heighten security. Face red with anger, Mace Tyrell promised to track down the assassin¡¯s master.


    Amid the turmoil, Olenna Tyrell¡¯s eyes shone with a private satisfaction. She offered me a subtle nod as if to say Well done. I winced at the throb in my palm, but a faint grin tugged at my lips. My speech was perfect, and I made the best out of the situation. Although I was curious about who ordered this assassination,


    The gathering took on a different note after that. No longer just a pleasant garden party, it became a place of shared resolve. The Tyrells and their banner lords closed ranks around me, each of them vowing in their own ways to stand against any shadowy foe.


    Suddenly, I had a hundred thousand men backing me.


    **


    **


    **

 [38] How to Feed Your Dragon

    Chapter 38: How to Feed Your Dragon


    ¡ª


    I sat on the edge of a spacious bed in one of Highgarden¡¯s more private and luxurious guest chambers, the midnight moon filtering through tall windows and warming the polished floor beneath my feet.


    My bandaged hand throbbed softly, still reminding me of the crossbow bolt that nearly found its mark this afternoon, but Margaery¡¯s gentle touch on the wrapping made the pain less intrusive.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe how fast you¡¯re hearing,¡± she said in fascination. She was kneeling beside me, her deft fingers finishing the final knot of a new linen around my palm.


    Her hair caught the moonlight in loose, artful coils, and her eyes sparkled like emeralds under the moon. Though she appeared mild as she cared for me, a subtle steel lurked in her gaze. She hated seeing me injured. I doubted it was because of love; more likely, it was because my dying would mean the loss of her crown once again.


    That was who Margaery Tyrell was¡ªbeautiful and scheming, not in an evil way. Most of all, she was one greedy lady. ¡°Does it hurt?¡± she looked up and asked.


    I rotated my wrist, testing the tension of the bandages. ¡°A little,¡± I admitted, ¡°but I¡¯ll manage. As you saw, much of it has healed. Anyway, you¡¯re quite good at nursing. Maybe I should keep getting into trouble so you can fuss over me.¡±


    A playful arch curved her brow. ¡°Oh, let¡¯s not encourage any repeat of that outrageous incident, . But honestly,¡± she hesitated, ¡°it¡¯s still surreal to me. How you blocked that arrow with your , I mean. The speed at which you moved, I saw it. Then, the thickness of your skin¡­¡±


    I laughed, feigning mystery. ¡°A good magician never reveals his secrets, my lady. Besides,¡± I added, ¡°it takes more than a single bolt to kill a dragon.¡±


    She giggled, amusement tugging her lips. ¡°A dragon who¡¯s also a showman, it seems.¡±


    The next few moments passed in a calm hush, only broken by the quiet curtains flapping in the mild autumn breeze. She remained kneeling before me, our eyes locked, and she smiled as I observed her.


    She wore a two-piece gown and a black robe over her shoulders. Her midriff was out in the open, accentuating her navel with a slender golden chain. The gentle slope of her waist, revealed in such a bold style, stirred a certain tension in my pants. I smiled. She noticed me looking but only smirked, leaning in as if silently reminding me she held the reins of this game, too.


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    ¡°So,¡± she began, her tone turning casual, ¡°are you feeling better about our arrangement here in Highgarden? If so many lords have rallied around you, I suspect your confidence must be soaring.¡±


    I shrugged lightly, not denying it. ¡°Confidence is necessary, but it doesn¡¯t solve all my problems. For instance, my strength lies in my dragon, and it¡¯s been a while since Viserion last ate. She¡¯s pretty hungry right now. I trust the goats are prepared?¡±


    Margaery nodded. ¡°Yes. My grandmother saw to that. We keep them in one of the older storehouses beneath the library tower. It¡¯s dim and wide enough for a¡­ dragon feast, I suppose.¡± She rose from the bed and gestured for me to follow.


    I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re leading me there personally?¡±


    Her eyes sparkled with amusement. ¡°Who else?¡± This girl really wanted to see my dragon.


    ****


    She led me through winding corridors that descended into an older wing of Highgarden, where the stones felt colder, the torchlight flickered, and the ceilings arched overhead in silent proof of the castle¡¯s age.


    My footsteps echoed on damp flagstones. Occasionally, the distant bleating of goats reached my ears, and I felt Viserion stirring within the pocket dimension I used as her hiding place, sensing the presence of fresh prey.


    We arrived at a dark chamber lit by a single hanging lantern. Sure enough, a small herd of crying goats huddled in a makeshift pen. Margaery paused at the threshold and gestured a chin at the livestock.


    I looked at her delicate features that felt half-sculpted by the flicker of yellow-orange flame. ¡°You¡¯re not leaving?¡± I asked softly, smiling. ¡°I can¡¯t show you this, you know?¡±


    She cleared her throat, crossing her arms under her chest. ¡°Come now. Is this really necessary, Your Grace? Waiting till marriage might as well kill me. Haven¡¯t I heard about it from Grandmother and my brother anyway? So let me see it already!¡±


    I smiled, stepping close enough to catch the faint rosewater scent clinging to her hair. I slipped an arm around her waist, her flesh warm against my touch. Our eyes locked. ¡°Do you remember what you said,¡± I murmured, ¡°when I held you last time¡­? That I must wait until marriage?¡±


    Her cheeks took on the barest flush as she looked away, neither confirming nor denying. I laughed. ¡°It might not be a pleasant sight now,¡± I warned. ¡°Feeding time, after all.¡±


    She heaved a sigh of relief seeing me agree. ¡°I¡¯ll manage.¡±


    I nodded. Then, I snapped my fingers. The air cracked with energy, and the fabrics of space-time tore apart in a single moment. A dark dimension opened beside us.


    Viserion burst forth, her leathery wings rustling in the gloom, her golden scales glinting in the wavering lantern light. She spewed a small jet of flame that licked across the air, sending the goats into frenzied bleating. Without a cry of hesitation, the dragon pounced on them, fangs sinking with savage efficiency.


    Margaery stepped forward, eyes widening as the blaze illuminated her face. In the reflection of her irises, I could see a curious wonder, a spark of near-reverence. She stared, entranced, as Viserion devoured her meal.


    I stood behind Margaery, slipping my arms around her from behind, pressing my chest to her back so she could feel the reassurance of my warmth. She gasped softly when I bent to kiss the nape of her neck. A faint whimper escaped her lips, but she didn¡¯t resist, too captivated by the reality of a living dragon feeding mere steps away.


    ¡°Are you impressed?¡± I murmured near her ear. My hand trailed over her midriff, lingering on the soft skin revealed by her daring outfit. I heard the quickening pace of her heart.


    She swallowed, nodding. ¡°I¡ªyes. You know, I didn¡¯t fully believe Grandmother, even though I knew she wouldn¡¯t lie. But seeing it¡­ feeling the heat¡­¡± Her words trailed off, replaced by shaky laughter. ¡°Gods, it¡¯s incredible.¡±


    I could see the flicker of flame dancing in her wide eyes as if she was already imagining those same flames turned against any foe of House Tyrell or House Targaryen. As if she was imagining her future children riding those scales. I tightened my hold on her.


    She giggled once, turning her head enough that her cheek brushed mine. ¡°I feel like we truly are forging something beyond the realm¡¯s comprehension, Your Grace. Viserion is magnificent.¡±


    I laughed quietly, ¡°Wait until the rest of Westeros finds out. And wait until my sister¡¯s dragons join me.¡±


    She parted her lips to reply, but the words died as I leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to her shoulder, then up her neck. A soft sigh escaped her. She yielded to the closeness for a moment¡ªuntil she seemed to remember her own stance on chastity.


    She half-turned and pushed me gently in the chest. ¡°Hey,¡± she teased, voice low, ¡°after marriage, remember?¡±


    I smirked, stepping in any way, guiding her back against a nearby stone pillar. My knee slid between her thighs, enough to make her gasp. Forehead resting against hers, I murmured, ¡°I¡¯m quite certain I can¡¯t wait that long. Like how you couldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Hey¡­ they¡¯re not the same¡­¡± she said.


    ¡°I suppose,¡± I hovered my lips over hers. ¡°Sure thing, then. As long as you¡¯d rather I find someone else to help me¡­ relax¡­ well, your grandmother might not mind. Your handmaiden looks quite pretty.¡±


    Her eyes flashed, a spark of jealousy or challenge. She grumbled for a moment, realizing my character if she hadn¡¯t already from the rumors, and then clicked her tongue. ¡°I¡­ can use my mouth,¡± she proposed softly, the boldness of her suggestion pairing with a playful glint in her eyes. ¡°Trust me, it¡¯ll be enough.¡±


    I chuckled. ¡°Trust , it¡¯ll not be enough. Do you think a man who can stop a crossbow with his bare hand lacks vigor? Your jaw will fall apart if you try to satisfy me with this lovely little mouth of yours,¡± I grabbed her face, smirking at her. ¡°Plus, if we¡¯re going that far¡­ isn¡¯t it better to go all the way? In that case, you can at least hope to get pregnant and solidify this entire thing.¡±


    I finished, and she blinked once, twice, and then a third time as if saying, ¡®Fuck, he¡¯s right.¡¯ That was a far better approach to this situation than playing hard to get.


    She caught my meaning, biting her lip in that half-innocent, half-sultry way she could only pull off. A flicker of conflict passed over her features¡ªshe was cunning enough to weigh the political ramifications, the potential hold she might gain, and her grandmother''s reaction. At the same time, lust, ambition, and curiosity swirled in her gaze.


    A breath passed, and she moved suddenly, tugging at my collar. She brought me down for a searing kiss.


    I laughed into the mouth, and my hands roamed her waist, sliding the thin fabric that covered her. Her breath caught when I lifted her effortlessly, pressing her firmly against the pillar. Her legs rested on my shoulders, and she let out a trembling moan as my lips grazed the sensitive skin of her midriff.


    Warmth flared between us, fueled by the swirl of flame behind us and the primal nature of the moment. I felt her quake in my shoulders as my lips kissed her stomach. My tongue slid down, and she whimpered, burying her fingers in my hair.


    ¡°W-wait! I changed my mind. After¡ª marriage¡ª! Ahng~¡± she managed breathlessly before bursting out, moaning, even as her thighs locked around my neck. ¡°A-at least¡­ let¡¯s head to my bedroom¡­!¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± I answered as I savored the taste of Margaery¡¯s skin, pressing her against the cold pillar in that dim chamber while Viserion¡¯s low growls echoed behind us as she munched into the goats.


    The pillar¡¯s cold stone under my hands contrasted with the fever in my mouth. In the torchlit gloom, often brightened with dragon flames, Margaery¡¯s breath came quickly as she moaned. Her lips parted to release soft, stifled whimpers as I trailed kisses down her neck, my hands cupping her breasts through the thin fabric of her gown.


    A sudden roar from Viserion snapped us back to the moment. ¡°You two¡­!¡± After a long time, she spoke again. ¡°Go¡­ mate¡­ somewhere else!¡± My dragon, apparently unimpressed with our distraction, let out a thunderous call that rattled through the hall, sending reverberations across the ancient stones.


    Margaery jerked away, her cheeks flushed in the flickering orange glow, her nipples taut against the fabric of her gown. ¡°W-what the hell? Dragons can speak?!¡±


    ¡°Mine can,¡± I said, ignoring the growling dragon and kissing this delicate flower.


    She moaned and cleared her throat, readjusting the half-loosened fabric draped around her midriff. ¡°R-regardless, she disapproves of this,¡± she teased, breath uneven, her eyes flicking to the creature¡¯s dark outline. ¡°Let¡¯s not give her more to complain about. I don¡¯t want to become like those goats. Can¡¯t we please¡­ continue this somewhere less¡­ livestock-scented, ?¡±


    I loved how she said those last two words, how sultry and hungry she sounded. She couldn¡¯t wait to be called the same by others.


    My smirk widened. ¡°Fine. I wouldn¡¯t hate a more private stage for our performance,¡± Without waiting for an answer, I scooped her into my arms, watching her eyes fly wide with surprise and delight. Her breasts heaved against my chest as I carried her like a princess.


    ¡°What are you¡ª!¡± she laughed, but her words turned breathy as I hoisted her higher, my hands gripping her ass, fingers tracing the cleft between her cheeks. She moaned softly, her arms tightening around my neck.


    ¡°What am I doing? I am indulging in the perks of being a dragon king,¡± I answered. ¡°If you¡¯d rather walk, I can set you down. But I must warn you, my lady, it¡¯ll be shameful if the servants saw you walk naked, so I¡¯d rather just carry you. It¡¯ll be faster.¡±


    She gasped, her eyes darkening with lust. ¡°No, I¡­ fine, don¡¯t drop me,¡± she managed, and in a show of bravery, she nipped at my earlobe, her tongue flicking against the sensitive skin.


    We stepped out into the corridor, my cock throbbing in my pants with every step. A pair of maids passing by gasped at the sight¡ªthe Targaryen prince carrying the Tyrell rose, her cheeks flushed with arousal.


    ¡°K-kya!! Unhand our lady this instance!¡±


    Margaery quickly raised a hand, both in greeting and mild embarrassment. ¡°It¡¯s¡ªthis is fine, truly!¡± she reassured them. ¡°All is well. And you saw nothing!¡±


    Viserion let out one last throaty growl somewhere behind us in the now-closed chamber, and the maids screamed as they fled. By the time we reached Margaery¡¯s bedchamber, I was ready to explode. I shut the door behind us, not caring who heard the slam.


    The room welcomed us with softly glowing lamps, perfumed linens, and tall windows that opened onto the starlit gardens below. When I set her on her feet, she turned to me, eyes gleaming with hunger. She wasted no time sliding a hand around my neck to pull me into a deep, searching kiss, her other hand working at the laces of my pants.


    I hummed low in my throat, returning the pressure in kind. My earlier urgency flared hotter, my cock straining against the confines of my clothing. Her lips parted with a quiet sigh, and we stumbled backward together until her back found a carved wooden column. Fabric rustled as I tugged at the halves of her gown¡¯s top piece, revealing more smooth skin.


    I took in her form with an appreciative hunger, my hands cupping her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until they were tight peaks. She arched against me, letting the cloth fall in a flutter around her waist, her breath hitching as I dipped my head to capture one rosy tip in my mouth.


    ¡°This¡­ hang¡­¡± she moaned, her voice muffled against my collar as I sucked and nibbled at her flesh. ¡°You¡¯re hungrier than¡­ ahn¡­ your dragon, Your Grace.¡±


    I nibbled softly at her earlobe, drawing out a quiet moan. ¡°What can I say? I am a dragon myself,¡± I slid a hand between her thighs, my fingers finding the hot, wet pussy of her. She gasped, her hips bucking against my touch. ¡°And just call me Viserys.¡±


    Her giggle turned into a groan when I kissed down the line of her jaw, trailing lower, leaving warm, open-mouthed caresses that made her breathing hitch. Our touches turned bolder, the tension between us spiraling as we half-wrestled, half-clung to each other in the lamplit hush of her bedchamber. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She pressed her palm over my bandaged hand, mindful of the injury yet pulling me closer. The pain was distant now¡ªa dull throb overshadowed by the pounding thrill that coursed through my veins. Her slender fingers found the clasps at my waist, undoing them with a skillful twist. My cock sprang free, thick and hard, and she froze for a moment. She swallowed and then wrapped her fingers around my length, her thumb circling the sensitive tip.


    ¡°A dragon, for sure¡­¡± A quiet, breathy laugh escaped her as she stroked me, her touch sending waves of pleasure through me. ¡°You are¡­ hungry, right?¡± she murmured, gazing into my eyes. ¡°For something more tender than goats.¡± I just smirked, and she guided me to the bed, pushing me down onto the soft covers. I went willingly, and she straddled my hips, her wet heat pressing against my cock.


    I answered with a low chuckle, capturing her lips again, letting my uninjured hand tangle in her hair. Our breaths mingled, warm and electric, and in that moment, I felt the heady power of forging alliances not just through politics but through pure, primal connection. I just wanted to make Margaery Tyrell scream in pleasure.


    She might have called it strategic, a seduction carefully measured, but I sensed a genuine flame behind it¡ªdesire twined with ambition, yes, yet undeniably real. She was in heat for me.


    She sat on top of me, looking down at my eyes. Then, she reached between us, guiding my cock to her entrance. I thrust upwards, sheathing myself in her tight, wet heat. We both moaned, our bodies stilling for a moment as we savored the sensation.


    Then I began to move. ¡°Ah-! Hey, you just put it in- ahng~¡± She moaned, and I held her hips, raising and pulling at her as she rode me, her breasts bouncing with each thrust.


    I gripped her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh as I met her thrusts with my own. The tension of the day, the near-assassination, and the swirl of courting lords all vanished beneath the press of our bodies, the ragged hush of our breaths. Her hands roamed over my shoulders, nails grazing lightly, urging me on.


    She parted her lips, trying to speak but losing the words the moment my mouth found the tender flesh of her throat. Each ragged breath she took was an unspoken confession of need. My own pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out everything but the whisper of her name and the ragged hush of her breath.


    I leaned in, letting her glimpse the raw hunger in my eyes. And she met me with that same intensity in her own cunning, luminous way. ¡°Fuck me,¡± she moaned, ¡°breed me, do me ¡±


    In the hush of Margaery¡¯s bed-chamber, nothing else mattered except the heat of her skin against mine, the soft cry of her voice echoing in the dim lamplight. Although I did not, in fact, breed her. She was not going to have my child, at least not yet.


    I pinned her under me, and I ravaged her until she begged me for rest.


    **


    **


    **


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 [39] I Don’t Wish to Argue With a Child

    Chapter 39: I Don¡¯t Wish to Argue With a Child


    ¡ª


    I awoke in Margaery¡¯s bedchamber to the soft warmth of morning light creeping through tall, arched windows. A gentle breeze teased the curtains, bringing with it the scent of Highgarden¡¯s roses¡ªless intense than last night.


    ¡°Mmm¡­¡± I yawned, sitting up a little. My gaze fell on the bandage wrapped around my hand, now tinged with faint red stains from my half-healed wound. It throbbed in a muted reminder of yesterday¡¯s nearly fatal arrow, but the pain was barely there.


    I slowly unwrapped it to find the wound¡­ fully healed. I smiled. At Level 23, such a wound was barely a scratch. I pulled out my Status Page to take a look.


    === Page [?] ===


    Viserys Targaryen


    The Dragon King


    22 Years Old


    Level 23


    -


    27 STR


    32 END


    27 DEX


    31 INT


    29 LUC


    40 AUTH


    === Page [?] ===


    The numbers made me smile, but unfortunately, I hadn¡¯t earned any levels from Viserion¡¯s goat massacre last night.


    My Authority was 40, which stood out. It had jumped unexpectedly higher than I¡¯d calculated. At Level 14, it was Auth 20¡ªgaining nine levels should have made it 29.


    I supposed that my alliances and conquests were all feeding something deeper within me. The realm itself recognized who I was becoming, so my Authority increased.


    A soft humming drifted from the far side of the room, where Margaery stood in front of a mirror. She was slipping on a new gown for the day, an elegant piece that cinched at her waist and fanned out over her hips. I doubted she¡¯d bother to wear it modestly after what happened last night, but outward appearances mattered. Even in privacy, she balanced her seductive aura with a composed grace worthy of a queen.


    Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed me stirring and offered a smile¡ªit was gentle yet sharpened by something unspoken. ¡°Good morning, Your Grace,¡± she teased. ¡°I trust you slept well despite¡­ our evening¡¯s little diversions?¡±


    I stretched, biting back a small chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m not complaining. My hand¡¯s healed, and the rest of me feels quite satisfied.¡± My mind flickered to the steamy events we¡¯d shared, half-lost in the gloom of goat-feeding, half-lost in her body.


    Her smirk deepened, and she turned fully, letting me admire how the golden sunlight played across her hair, highlighting each curl. She looked at her side where new bandages were ready and then back at me. ¡°I see you took off your bandage, but from the looks of it, new ones won¡¯t be needed. It¡¯s almost as if you''re not human. Haah, if anything, I need medical care for my legs. You know, I can¡¯t stand up right now. Did you truly have to be so rough?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s already healed, yes,¡± I assured her, flexing my fingers. ¡°Another day or so, and the scar will vanish too. It¡¯ll be as if the bolt never touched me.¡±


    She stepped closer, carefully examining the cloth around my palm. ¡°That¡¯s good. We can¡¯t have our rising dragon king crippled before the next stage of¡­ well, everything.¡±


    A flicker crossed her gaze¡ªconcern or cunning. It was hard to tell. One thing I knew for sure was that it wasn¡¯t love. But she¡¯d grown a little protective over me, that too I was sure.


    I nodded, ¡°Fair. Yesterday¡¯s demonstration¡ªmy fight, then the assassination attempt¡ªhas guaranteed me strong backing. A hundred thousand men.¡±


    ¡°That is a major step forward, yes, Your Grace. But I suspect we¡¯ve only scratched the surface of what¡¯s to come. We have the army, but Renly Baratheon had a bigger one. Then, he ended up dead,¡± she looked into my eyes with worry. ¡°Be careful.¡±


    Margaery¡¯s eyes flickered with that near-invisible blend of ambition and warmth, and she continued when I remained silent. ¡°The realm will take notice. Word moves quickly, especially with the tale of the crossbow bolt. I suspect the rumors of some crazy beast devouring goats in the secret halls will also spread. You should have withdrawn Viserion into that weird space.¡±


    She¡¯d suggested the same last night, but I didn¡¯t listen. I shook my head, ¡°A dragon can¡¯t grow when chained. Let her have a good night¡¯s rest in that chamber. I don¡¯t mind rumors.¡±


    ¡°We stand on a precarious edge, Your Grace. Some rumors might strengthen your image as an unstoppable Targaryen¡­ others might color you as reckless or far too dangerous to be left alive, drawing threats from all corners,¡± she said, looking at me with caution.


    I let the silence hang briefly, my thoughts drifting to how last night¡¯s deeper intimacy might alter the political game. She was already worrying about me as a husband. My alliance with Margaery Tyrell had grown personal¡ªand in Westeros, personal and political were rarely separate. She realized that too. I liked this girl.


    ¡°Are you worried?¡± I asked softly.


    She paused at that, smoothing her gown and fiddling with an embroidered rose at her hip. ¡°Worried that some might see our closeness as scandalous? No. That I¡¯ll be rumored to have surrendered my virtue before marriage? No. Worried about your life? Yes.¡±


    I tilted my head. Her worry was lovely, but it wasn¡¯t as if I was reckless. If I was, I¡¯d have been over Level 50 by now. I was playing things very safe as it was, and she didn¡¯t know what it meant to have a System backing my growth. ¡°That is touching,¡± I said.


    She shook her head, voice dropping to a whisper. ¡°I hope you remain careful. Of everyone. Especially¡­ that Red Priestess.¡± She stared at me briefly.


    I nodded, deciding to let the subject rest. I inhaled, pushing off the bed. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind,¡± I said, and I doubted she knew that it included her too.


    ****


    I finished dressing, adorning a black doublet with discreet hints of Targaryen red thread. Not long after that, knocks fell, and soon the door to the chamber cracked open. Kinvara slipped in, crimson robes flowing around her like molten silk, her eyes calm as always. They were also curious. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°My Prince,¡± she began, offering Margaery a guarded nod before turning to me. ¡°It appears the morning finds you well, despite all that happened last night.¡±


    Margaery arched a brow, bristling at the intrusion but maintaining her grace. ¡°Lady Kinvara,¡± she said, managing a polite smile. ¡°You¡¯ve excellent timing as always.¡±


    Kinvara¡¯s lips curved faintly, though her gaze remained on me. ¡°One time I¡¯m not by your side, my Prince, you almost get assassinated. Perhaps I should tie you to my sleeves.¡±


    I rolled my eyes lightly. ¡°Almost is a strong word. The damage was minimal. See?¡± I raised my hand and showed her, and she blinked. Her smile widened a moment later.


    Margaery watched our exchange in silence and then crossed her arms, standing up and stepping slightly forward as if to shield me from any perceived slight. ¡°I hate to interrupt, but he¡¯s one of the five kings now,¡± she stated, addressing Kinvara firmly. ¡°The entire realm must have heard whispers by daybreak. So it¡¯s ¡®Your Grace¡¯ from now on.¡±


    Kinvara raised an elegant brow. ¡°...Indeed. A King. Yet a single crossbow bolt nearly ended him. Isn¡¯t that funny? Where one assassin fails, two more will come. You should remain vigilant,¡± she looked at me, smiling, ¡°Your Grace.¡±


    Margaery smiled in satisfaction seeing Kinvara comply, but I held back a sigh. This old woman didn¡¯t care what she¡¯d call me, while this little girl thought she was winning against her. ¡°He¡¯ll be fine,¡± Margeary said, ¡°as he is today.¡±


    Kinvara¡¯s eyes flicked to her like a subtle challenge. ¡°Is he, truly? You¡¯ve proven your capacity to guard yourself¡­ but he was injured. He¡¯s the most valuable asset that House Tyrell has, and he was unguarded yesterday.¡±


    Margaery stiffened, her expression carefully impassive. ¡°He isn¡¯t unguarded at all¡­ not while I¡¯m here.¡±


    A thin, knowing smile curved Kinvara¡¯s lips. ¡°And you were where, precisely, when the arrow came flying?¡± she asked, voice delicate but pointed.


    ¡°That¡­ I was nearby. I took care of the aftermath,¡± Margaery shot back, a hint of tension in her voice. ¡°I bandaged him. I¡ª¡±


    ¡°You bandaged it. You couldn¡¯t stop it,¡± Kinvara said, making the girl fall silent. Kinvara sighed and returned her gaze to me. ¡°Regardless, I don¡¯t wish to argue with a child. Your Grace, shall we leave for King¡¯s Landing soon? Our work here is done.¡±


    A faint flush of anger was visible on Margaery¡¯s cheeks. But she didn¡¯t let her emotions control her. She faced me, adopting a gentler tone as she touched my injured hand. ¡°Must you really go so soon? As you said, Stannis will invade King¡¯s Landing within months. So that city is not safe. Highgarden is. Leading our new army from here might be the smarter choice.¡±


    I regarded her quietly. ¡°We¡¯ve already prepared for that scenario. But for my claim to resonate throughout the Seven Kingdoms, I must move, not hide in Highgarden.¡±


    ¡°Still¡­¡±


    ¡°I need to be where the next storms gather. My stay in King¡¯s Landing will be crucial. Let me assure you, Margaery, this is how I also guarantee your future crown.¡±


    Her gaze flicked between Kinvara and me as though measuring my resolution. Finally, she inhaled slowly and nodded. ¡°Then I hope the gods favor your journey, Your Grace. And remember, Highgarden is still your strongest ally,¡± she added with a half-smile.


    I allowed myself a short laugh, moving toward the door. ¡°Of course. I¡¯d be a fool not to keep you close.¡±


    ¡°See you later, my lady,¡± Kinvara bowed her head, acknowledging Margaery with a composed half-smile. Margaery stood, looking every inch the poised lady of the court, though I could sense the swirl of emotion beneath her calm fa?ade.


    She¡¯d already grown to desire more than a mere alliance¡ªperhaps a measure of real control over me and my path. It was adorable, but I didn¡¯t like it.


    As we left the room, the morning sun blazed brighter beyond Highgarden¡¯s walls, a fresh day brimming with promise and silent perils.


    Footsteps echoed in the corridor, and a few hours later, after I had some last-minute talks with the Tyrell heads, the footsteps turned into the sound of hooves against the ground, each one taking me closer to King¡¯s Landing.


    I hope I wasn¡¯t late. I had a plan to execute during the Riot of King¡¯s Landing regarding a certain character. Hopefully, the riot hadn¡¯t happened already.


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: The Tyrell Alliance concludes here, and we¡¯re now entering what I¡¯ll say is one of the main phases of the story. There will be a LOT OF actions from here on, small and big, and hopefully, you¡¯ll enjoy reading them all.

 [40] The Ghost of Targaryen

    Chapter 40: The Ghost of Targaryen


    ¡ª


    By the end, the Tyrells had treated me well¡ªexceedingly well, in fact. I¡¯d also made a sudden request for black armor with a red cape, and they delivered. It now rested within my inventory.


    Even House Merryweather went out of their way to secure passage for Kinvara and me, providing a vessel they claimed was ¡°fit for a king.¡± A bit too conspicuous, if you ask me. Once I realized the opulence would draw too many eyes, I decided to switch ships at the port of Longtable.


    Longtable was the seat of House Merryweather, so the lord came to meet me. He insisted we¡¯d be safe on the original ship, but I¡¯ve learned long ago to trust my instincts, not the assurances of an overly friendly lord.


    So, now we were on a nondescript vessel, the boards creaking beneath our feet, carrying rough cargo and a few unassuming passengers. Our ship cut through the waters, the mild morning sun reflecting off gentle waves. It¡¯d bring us to King¡¯s Landing without stirring any fanfare if everything went smoothly.


    I leaned against the ship¡¯s railing on the open deck, letting the faint air brush over my face. Kinvara stood beside me, red hair splattering against her face in the mild breeze.


    ¡°This has been a fulfilling visit,¡± she said, her voice quiet yet charged with interest. ¡°The Tyrells parted ways with you on excellent terms, and they seemed quite taken with your presence, especially after the demonstration¡ªboth the duel and the¡­ night¡¯s session.¡±


    I chuckled. ¡°They¡¯re convinced. At least for now. The next moves are crucial¡ªwinning support in King¡¯s Landing, mustering a real coalition before the Mannis marches.¡±


    Kinvara nodded, gazing at the horizon. Everything¡¯s going to be alright,¡± she said. ¡°We just have to be careful and cautious with our moves.¡±


    Before I could answer, the soft glow of the morning light reflected off metal¡ªmovement at the edge of my peripheral vision. I slowly turned toward the far side of the deck. A group of five men approached, their steps uneven, their eyes scanning us. They didn¡¯t carry themselves like typical sailors or harmless travelers. The other passengers looked weary.


    The group¡¯s tattered clothes carried a hunger that set me on edge.


    The five of them stopped before us, and one of them stepped forward. He was a stocky, unshaven man with a poorly tended scar across his cheek. He feigned politeness with a smile. ¡°Mornin¡¯, travelers,¡± he greeted. ¡°That guy who escorted you into this ship¡­ Lord Merryweather, right? Friends of a lord. You two must be carryin¡¯ something valuable.¡±


    I held back a scowl. That was annoying. I told that Merryweather bastard that we¡¯d be fine boarding a ship on our own, but he had to tag along. He was disguised so most didn¡¯t recognize him, but this bandit clearly had. Kinvara and I had already shifted back to our disguises, but a rumor still wouldn¡¯t help. I had to take care of these fools.


    I forced a polite smile. ¡°Just words, friend. We¡¯re simple folk passing through, not wealthy merchants.¡±


    He clucked his tongue, eyeing the robes on Kinvara, the subtle finery of my clothes. ¡°Is that so?¡±


    I caught the flicker of his comrades shifting, two of them focusing on Kinvara with a lecherous interest while the other three spread around me in a half-circle. My chest tightened with immediate annoyance. Couldn¡¯t these fools sense the danger?


    ¡°Lads,¡± the scarred man muttered, ¡°why not see what¡¯s under those robes, hmm? The lady might have gold¡­ or somethin¡¯ else worth takin¡¯.¡± Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I clenched my jaw. One of them moved toward Kinvara, attempting to grip her arm. She stood perfectly still, peacefulness undisturbed¡ªeven as rough fingers dug into her sleeve. Two of them closed in on her, lustful glints in their eyes. The other three advanced on me, including the leader, hoping to rob me¡ªor kill me if I resisted.


    I sighed. ¡°Stupid fuckers.¡±


    In one fluid motion, I lunged at the closest man, sidestepping his clumsy attempt to seize my shoulder. My fist slammed into his ribs, and bones cracked as he crumpled with a guttural cry. The second attacker swung a dull blade in a wide arc, but too slow. I ducked low and delivered a sharp elbow to his sternum. Another sickening crack resonated, and he stumbled backward, falling on his back and gasping for breath.


    The third man, the leader, shouted and tried to grab my arm from behind, but I whirled, kicking him in the shin. His legs buckled, and he screamed. He hit the deck with a thud, and I rewarded him with a vicious stomp to the shoulder.


    An irritated exhale escaped my lips. These ruffians were amateurs; they truly were mere bandits and not assassins. But I realized abruptly that Kinvara had yet to defend herself. The two bandits were pawing at her robes. She stood there calmly as though uninterested in fighting back.


    ¡°Really?¡± I asked.


    She shrugged, ¡°Too much energy. Just get them off me already.¡±


    I rushed over, grabbing the first man by the neck of his shirt and flinging him aside, letting him crash into the railing. The second man attempted a swing at my head with a short club, but I caught his wrist, twisted hard, and heard bones snap. His scream tore through the quiet air. He collapsed, howling, and Kinvara only watched with faint curiosity as if this scene were a mildly interesting performance.


    ¡°Should have just stayed put,¡± I said, dusting my hands off as I turned to the leader, the scarred man, who now cowered on the deck with twisted legs, courtesy of my earlier brutal assault. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and he wheezed, fear overshadowing whatever bravado he¡¯d possessed mere minutes ago.


    ¡°N-no, please¡­¡± he croaked, tears forming in his eyes.  My eyes narrowed as I reached for the sword at my waist. ¡°No! I¡­ I didn¡¯t mean¡­! Look, I¡¯ve a family, I swear. Five daughters, two sons. I¡ªI only tried this because the famine is here. We had no choice¡­¡±


    His words hung in the morning air as I unsheathed the sword, metal gleaming in the daylight. The man paled, tears rolling down his cheeks now. I held the sword at his neck with my previously injured hand, and it didn¡¯t hurt at all. Even the scar had vanished by now. The sword was newish, a gift from Lord Mace. I didn¡¯t mind it, it was better to practice more than just the spear since I had the System.


    Kinvara stood behind me, silent but watchful, with no sign of pity in her expression. More than anyone, she understood the precariousness of letting threats survive in a world like this that devoured the weak. My gaze flicked to the man¡¯s ravaged legs, then back to his tear-streaked face.


    ¡°Famine or not,¡± I said quietly, ¡°you decided to risk our lives. You wanted to harm my companion¡ªhurt me¡ªand you threatened a future I¡¯ve built with more than just my sweat. Is that fair? Think about it. So no, I can¡¯t let you walk away.¡±


    ¡°Please, m¡¯lord¡ª¡± he begged, trembling. ¡°They¡¯re starvin¡¯! Without me, they¡ª¡±


    The edge of my sword glinted. ¡°There are always choices. You¡¯ve made yours.¡±


    His sobs turned desperate, but I steeled my heart. Compassion was a rarity in this game of kings and swords. If I let one criminal live, the next would too. Who could say how many others might come for me, emboldened by mercy or believing me soft if that continued? Plus, he didn¡¯t have to touch Kinvara if he just wanted money.


    Kinvara said nothing. Neither did I. I simply raised the blade, let the sun¡¯s reflection dance on its surface, and brought it down in a swift strike.


    [You¡¯ve reached Level 24.]


    Blood splattered.


    ****


    I rode in subdued silence, reins wrapped in my grip, while Kinvara followed right beside me. The journey from the docks had gone smoothly enough. No more ambushes, no further attempts on our lives.


    The previous night, I had temporarily released Viserion from my dimensional hold, allowing her to stretch her wings and hunt. I glimpsed her silhouette against the moonlit sky, the faint roar echoing now and then. Her presence was reassuring, and her hunts also gave me some EXP.


    Everything was going smoothly. Yet my mood soured as we drew near to King¡¯s Landing.


    The roads were worn, scattered with travelers who moved too quickly or glanced over their shoulders as if fearing pursuit. Perhaps they sensed the city¡¯s troubles just as keenly as I did. Or more likely, they¡¯d seen what was going on. I had a bad feeling about this¡­


    I looked at Kinvara, and she nodded. We sped up our ride, skirting past quiet hamlets and makeshift camps outside the city as people trembled in hunger. My unease turned into irritation when we finally beheld King¡¯s Landing. Its walls loomed, dingy in the midday sun, but I noticed something immediately amiss.


    No guards patrolled the main gate, no watchful eyes peered from the parapets. Only a handful of ragged figures lingered, huddled against the stone, paying us no mind.


    This was not the usual clamor of the capital. As I¡¯d expected, something was happening.


    Cursing under my breath, I urged my horse forward and peered into the gate¡¯s open maw, half-expecting a sudden throng to appear. Instead, I saw empty streets, or at least emptier than they should be. Seven hells¡ªam I really late? The alarm in my gut spiked. I¡¯d sped up my travel after hearing from the bandits that famine was a real issue already, but perhaps I was still late. If the riot had started, I¡¯d miss a valuable opportunity.


    I dismounted abruptly, my heart hammering in my chest, and turned to Kinvara. She halted her horse beside mine.


    ¡°Stay put,¡± I said, my words full of urgency. ¡°I have to see what¡¯s happening inside.¡±


    ¡°Careful,¡± She nodded, though her eyes shone with unspoken questions. I took a step toward the gate, then hesitated.


    I ran my fingers through my coal-black hair. Kinvara had worked her magic right before we switched ships. However, I needed my Targaryen hair for this plan.


    ¡°Put my hair back to silver,¡± I said, turning to Kinvara once more. She tilted her head and then a faint smile of understanding formed on her lips. She raised a hand, the air shimmering with a subtle tingle of magic. Whatever illusions I¡¯d hidden behind were about to be cast aside.


    The city beckoned, haunted and uncertain, as Kinvara did her spell. I turned around, ready for the next step¡ªconfronting King¡¯s Landing not as a disguised traveler but as some wicked Ghost of Targaryen. The Tyrell¡¯s gift, a black armor with a red cape, covered my body.


    It was time to have some fun.


    **


    **


    **


    Come find fellow fans on Discord and more chapters on Patreon!


    Patreon: Patreon.com/Master4thWall


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 [41] A Dragon Among Rats

    Chapter 41: A Dragon Among Rats¡ª


    The streets of King¡¯s Landing churned with a storm of fear and desperation. Citizens screamed and ran, shoving one another in a desperate scramble for anything of value; scraps of food, clothes, any meager coin. Overturned carts and scattered debris choked the cobblestones, forming makeshift barricades and hazards alike.


    Fires flickered in corners where riotous people had smashed lanterns, and the air reeked of sweat, ash, and terror.


    Adorned in fine black armor, I walked through the madness with quiet authority, my new crimson cloak trailing behind like a streak of blood across the dirt-streaked stone. Golden swirls etched into my dark armor caught the dim light, hinting at a regal silhouette. My silver-blond hair freely fell over my shoulder, and more than one bewildered onlooker gasped, jumping away or fleeing faster.


    ¡°P-Prince Rhaegar¡­?!¡± an old man stammered, collapsing on his knees onto the road.


    I paused, offering him a brief glance. Rhaegar Targaryen, indeed¡ªthat¡¯s who they saw in the pale hair and the calm, almost haunting aura. That was my plan, to wear my late brother''s name and haunt the Crown. I patted the man on the shoulder, offering neither correction nor comfort. Some illusions are worth maintaining.


    My purple eyes scanned the crowd, cold detachment in their reflection. Lord Mace¡¯s gifted sword rested on my waist, the hilt carved to resemble a dragon¡¯s head. I walked, and the panicked mob parted instinctively, their shock and fear of me surpassing the chaos around them.


    Sometimes humans feared the unknown more than a blade, so it was not surprising they¡¯d find the Ghost of Targaryen far more dangerous than the city¡¯s upheaval. Yet, somehow, many of them looked at me with reverence.


    Rhaegar Targaryen sure was something else.


    A woman shrieked at me, and someone used that chance to yank a loaf of bread from her grasp. She cried, and the thief vanished into the crowd.


    I raised a gloved hand, and with barely a thought, a dagger flickered into my palm from within my Inventory. I hurled it, and it found its mark in the thief¡¯s ankle. His scream joined the riotous sea of noise, and the woman rushed at him to retrieve her possessions.


    A few startled eyes landed on me, then darted away. ¡°What¡­ Did you all see that?¡±


    I resumed my stride, unbothered. Everyone moved aside until a child stumbled into my path, looked up at me with wide, petrified eyes, and then scrambled away as I continued past him. The riot churned around me like a swirling tide, but I might have been a dragon drifting through a rat''s flock, for none of it affected me. I had a destination. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Up ahead, the jagged towers of the Red Keep stood against the gray sky, a grim symbol of false power. But the castle wasn¡¯t my goal today; no, it was the path leading to it. That was where the center of this commotion was.


    On and on, I pushed forward, my senses sharp in search of something particular.


    I soon found myself at the center of the uproar, an even more crowded area where everyone had gone mad and the riot boiled into raw violence. Shouts and clangs echoed off battered walls as guards and commoners clashed against one another. My attention snagged on a group of city folk cowering, pressed back against a collapsed vegetable stall.


    A wedge of royal guards, their armor tarnished and stinking of arrogance, advanced on them, swords in hand. These so-called protectors were using the chaos to impose cruelty rather than order. It was almost as if they didn¡¯t realize that killing was making the situation worse.


    Well, what did I care?


    A hawk-faced guard struck a trembling woman across the face with the flat of his blade. I drew my sword from its scabbard slowly, and my eyes flashed from the woman to the guards. By then, people had noticed me even amid the commotion, and murmurs of disbelief rippled among the watchers.


    ¡°H-hey, who is that?!¡± One guard gaped at me, and I noticed confusion etched under his helm. When his friends turned to me, he grumbled and lunged at me with a shaky war cry. I easily sidestepped him, driving my sword through the gap in his neck armor.


    Hot blood splattered my cloak, the scarlet blending with the fabric¡¯s crimson hue. He collapsed, choking.


    [You¡¯ve killed a human - Royal Guard.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    The other guards recoiled, uncertain whether they faced a demon or a savior. Their hesitation ended abruptly when one barked, ¡°Kill him! Don¡¯t be fooled by your eyes. Keep swinging your swords! By the King¡¯s orders, we maintain peace!¡±


    ¡°Your King is worthless,¡± I said, my voice cold. I swung to meet the next wave of steel with fluid grace. Another guard¡¯s sword swung at my legs¡ªI jumped, spun, and my blade carved a brilliant arc. ¡°You¡¯re swinging at your rightful heir. There¡¯s still time. Flee, and I¡¯ll forgive you,¡± I said, but they didn¡¯t take my kind offer.


    The sword landed, and the guard toppled, clutching a mortal wound. Two more rushed in, but my reflexes outmatched them. I feinted, spinning in a dance of efficiency, each slash leading to a spurt of blood or a muffled scream. They were sliced and battered, and the crowd parted in fright or awe.


    [You¡¯ve killed a human - Royal Guard.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve killed a human - Royal Guard.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve¡­


    ¡­..


    You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [Skill Swordsmanship (E) has risen to Swordsmanship (D)!]


    Blood rained onto the stone, and the last guard fell. I exhaled softly, then focused on the trembling civilians. Their eyes shone with fragile hope and reverence. A hush crowded the air, broken only by ragged breathing and distant howls of unrest. I forced a smile that was more reassurance than warmth.


    ¡°I trust everyone here is alright,¡± I said quietly.


    The civilians exchanged glances. Nobody spoke. Until one of the children who huddled near a cart spotted more movement behind me and yelled in alarm, ¡°L-look out!¡± I spun, arm snapping up to catch an arrow that whistled toward my back.


    The projectile lodged into my gauntlet. I yanked it free, discarding it with a scoff. The new wave of guards weren¡¯t Royal Guards. They were City Guards who stood brave in their numbers at the far end of the street.


    ¡°You freak,¡± one of them said. ¡°This is your grave!¡±


    My sword sang once again. I met their charge head-on, ignoring the stench of blood and sweat. Blades clashed, and though they bore the advantage of numbers, none had faced a Targaryen who had a goddamn [System]. But truth be told, even I was surprised at how well I took care of the group. A deadly rhythm took hold.


    My blade found soft spots in the armor. Their attacks, though persistent, failed to do more than graze my cloak or bounce off the hardened plates I wore beneath it.


    Cries echoed over the gutted street, and soon the guards lay crumpled, some motionless, others gasping for air. I finished the barely alive ones with a soft swipe. A hush blanketed the chaos as though the world paused. All the civilians stared at me while gaping.


    I wiped sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand and sighed. Then, my eyes fell on the notifications flashing before me.


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve reached Level 25! Congratulations!]


    [Your Old Valyrian blood has strengthened.]


    [Your levels have reached a breakthrough¡­!]


    [Your Class ¡®The Dragon King¡¯ has strengthened!]


    [As a Dragon King, you are a Dragon yourself. What Dragon is limited by a mere mortal human body? You can now choose a draconic trait to evolve yourself.]


    I was surprised to see such a development, but I shouldn¡¯t have. This power called itself the Dragon System for a reason, and not some Dragon Tamer System. Four boxes soon floated before me.


    [Claws] [Scales] [Eyes] [Wings]


    My heart thumped, and adrenaline was still coursing from the skirmish. Four options, I see. I took them all in and considered them while the System urged me to pick my path toward an even more draconic form.


    ¡°Why did he fall silent?¡± One of them asked, prompting me to look up. With one last glance around the battered guards, the wide-eyed civilians, and the riot-churned city, I closed my eyes.


    I sighed, opened my eyes, and then raised my finger to the option I wanted.


    ****


    Sansa staggered through the swirling chaos, her breath catching with every jolt of the crowd. Around her, strangers surged in a desperate tide¡ªsome frantic with hunger, others consumed by hatred. Overturned barrels and slashed tents choked the muddy cobblestones, creating a treacherous obstacle course. A thick stench of unwashed bodies, rot, and fear pressed against her senses like a suffocating veil.


    A donkey brayed close by, entangled reins threatening to trip her. Sansa lurched, catching herself against a toppled cart. Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm in her chest. Stay calm. The royal entourage¡ªJoffrey¡¯s guards¡ªhad vanished in the stampede, killing civilians and leaving her alone.


    She couldn¡¯t help a grim flicker of amusement. What did those fools think would happen if they threw dung at the king?


    Panic coiled hot in her belly. No loyal shield stood between her and these rioters, and any cry for help drowned in the uproar. Don¡¯t get me wrong, I loved seeing that dung hit him in the face, but what did they expect? ¡°Oh gods,¡± Another shove from behind nearly sent her sprawling. She gasped, searching blindly for support, only to find more jostling figures. Where are the King¡¯s Guards? Where is anyone?


    A side alley looked promising, but a knot of flailing bodies blocked the way. Gritting her teeth, Sansa allowed the mass of people to push her along, guiding her deeper into the city¡¯s turmoil. Then things grew blurry. In a dizzying rush, the mob spat her out into a grim dead-end alley strewn with shattered crates and a broken door.


    The rowdy noise of the main riot felt muffled here, and an uneasy hush enveloped her. She almost breathed relief until she spotted movement in the half-light.


    A handful of men stepped into the alley¡¯s shadows, their clothes stained and reeking of sweat and wine. They¡¯d followed her, and their eyes fixed on the embroidery of her gown, on the undone braids in her hair. Sansa felt her blood turn cold.


    One man advanced, a grin twisting across his mouth. ¡°Well, look at that¡­ a pretty little bird,¡± he sneered.


    She took a step back, pressing against the damp stone. No. Fear burned tears into her eyes, though she tried vainly to hold them at bay.


    His companion¡¯s hands twitched, fingers curling as though already imagining what they¡¯d do. They spread out, hemming her in. Her knees wobbled, her body screaming for flight, but the alley offered no escape. Just my luck. Someone¡ªanyone¡­


    Her prayers died in her throat as the situation advanced too fast. Without warning, the first attacker lunged. Sansa shrieked, arms rising in a weak attempt at defense. ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes~¡± he crackled.


    He gripped a fistful of her hair and yanked. ¡°Argh!¡± Pain bursting white-hot behind her eyes. ¡°Stop¡ª!¡± she cried, the word strangled in terror.


    Their laughter echoed hollow and hungry, the second man shoving her against the slick wall. She felt her gown tear, felt the burn of rough nails scraping skin. One of her breasts came free, and the man reached out a hand, trying to grab it.  This can¡¯t be happening¡­


    Then, right before the man¡¯s hand could feel her breasts, a deep, feral snarl ruptured the alley¡¯s tension. The men froze mid-act, Sansa¡¯s breath catching at the sound. Dazed, she blinked tears from her eyes and risked a look over her shoulder.


    A towering figure materialized at the alley¡¯s mouth¡ªa silhouette draped in armor, face shadowed, and posture lethal. Somehow, she recognized that appearance even though she¡¯d been born after his death. He was just that popular in this realm.


    ¡°P-Prince Rhaegar¡­?!¡± one of the men gasped, and she realized she wasn¡¯t seeing things. Seventeen years¡­ and people still recognized him like it was yesterday. The Prince among Princes, Rheager Targaryen, stood at the alley.


    ¡°Pity that I have to kill civilians.¡±


    ¡°W-what is going¨C¡± Before the assaulter could speak again, steel flashed in the alley¡¯s meager light, and a gargled cry severed the hush. The Targaryen Ghost moved swiftly. Blood splattered across wet cobbles. The figure moved mercilessly, dismantling her attackers in swift, brutal strokes. Heartbeats later, bodies sprawled motionless on the ground. One man fled, his footsteps echoing in an alley as Rhaeger turned to him. A dagger appeared in his hand, and it found the fleeing man¡¯s neck a second later.


    The alley suddenly felt deathly still.


    Sansa sagged against the wall, her breath ragged and her mind spinning. She watched in numb disbelief as the stranger, this Rhaegar Targaryen who couldn¡¯t possibly be real, turned toward us, her sword still dripping red.


    She flinched as he walked forward, anticipating another threat, but he sheathed his blade and reached into thin air as though tugging on an invisible curtain. A thick blanket appeared in his arms out of thin air.


    This cannot be. Am I truly seeing things? She wasn¡¯t sure her eyes believed it, but he draped it carefully around her shoulders, steadying her trembling form with surprising gentleness.


    ¡°Lady Sansa,¡± he said quietly, eyes flicking to the bruises blooming on her skin. ¡°I¡¯m glad I wasn¡¯t too late. Stay put, you¡¯re safe now.¡±


    Sansa just stared. This man¡¯s father burned her uncle, her grandfather, to death. Targaryen cruelty was seared into the pages of Stark history. Yet he¡ªbrutal and bloodstained¡ªhad saved her from something unspeakable. Gratitude and terror warred in her chest. She didn¡¯t know what to say, so she managed only a watery nod.


    ¡°T-thank you¡­¡± she whispered, swallowing hard. ¡°But¡­ who-... who are you, truly?¡±


    He fell silent and then opened his mouth to answer. Before he could, however, another voice rang from behind them. It was rough, full of disbelief, and like a howling tiger.


    ¡°What in seven fucking hells¡ª?¡± Sandor Fucking Clegane, the Hound, stood at the alley¡¯s entrance, sword in hand, eyes wide with shock.


    Sansa watched in shock as the Targaryen ghost cursed under his breath, turning around to face the new arrival. His hand drifted to the hilt of his sword once more.


    ¡°My apologies, Lady Sansa,¡± he said, not looking back, ¡°but you¡¯ll have to wait a bit longer.¡±


    **


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    Author Note: I hope you liked the chapter. We¡¯re getting some actions again and some really important growth. Question: which of the four options would you¡¯ve chosen in Viserys¡¯ shoes?

 [42] Fangs of the Hound

    Chapter 42: Fangs of the Hound¡ª


    Sandor Clegane, the scar-faced armored bulk, blocked the mouth of the alley with a scowl as deep as a ravine. ¡°I doubt I drank that much to start seeing things.¡±


    I took a cautious step forward, my sword gripped tight. The chaos of King¡¯s Landing¡¯s riot hissed and shrieked just beyond the cramped walls, but here in the alley, a hush dominated. The Hound did not look scared before a ghost. ¡°Your eyes are fine,¡± I said.


    Behind me, I caught Sansa on the edge of my vision. She was pressing herself against the damp stone, clinging to the blanket I¡¯d given her, eyes darting back and forth between the Hound and me. Her pulse thrummed so loud I half-thought I could hear it. ¡°Y-you two¡­¡± She swallowed, tried to speak, but couldn¡¯t finish her sentence.


    Hound¡¯s lips twisted in a sneer, sword in hand. ¡°I don¡¯t care who the fuck you are,¡± he growled, ¡°ghost or fuck not, I¡¯ll send you back to the underworld.¡± His stance radiated raw menace, each movement of his massive frame promising violence.


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d be taller,¡± I stood in the half-light, letting a breeze stir my silver-blond hair. A scornful smirk tugged at my lips as I appraised Hound¡¯s burn-scarred face. ¡°How about you reconsider this? I don¡¯t want to humiliate you in a fight. Are you truly here to defend the incest-born monster that squats on the Iron Throne?¡±


    ¡°...Your parents were sibling fuckers too.¡±


    I snapped a finger. ¡°Point taken,¡± I actually liked the Hound as a character, he was funny as fuck. He always cracked me up, that was why I was wasting my breath trying to recruit him instead of just cutting him down. Then again, it¡¯d not be easy to do that. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s put the incest insults aside. Still, Clegane. I know you don¡¯t respect Joffrey, that twat. Why not wield your sword for my cause instead?¡±


    He spat on the ground. ¡°And how does that change anything? From one King to another? Hey, at least Joffrey is alive, unlike you, you ghost fucker. I¡¯d sooner gut myself.¡± His voice held that dry, bitter humor that I¡¯d heard so much about, making me laugh. He brandished his sword, the steel glinting for blood. ¡°We¡¯ll see if you¡¯ve got the steel to match your swagger.¡±


    Sansa let out a tiny breath, trying to plead for calm, but neither of us bothered to hear her words. I shot a glance her way, offering no reassurance; the Hound was beyond reason, and I had no intention of backing down.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said. ¡°How about we make a bet on this duel?¡±


    ¡°Fuck off!¡±


    Without further warning, Sandor lunged. Our blades met in a shrieking clash of sparks. I was startled at the strength behind his swing. His raw power thundered through each swing, but somehow, I caught them, parrying with the fluid agility I¡¯d honed through countless fights. My Stats didn¡¯t lose to the Hound, and that meant I wasn¡¯t the only startled one here. The Hound¡¯s eyes flickered in momentary confusion; he hadn¡¯t expected me to be this strong¡ªor this fast.


    I spun away from his next punishing blow, feet dancing over broken crates and debris that littered the alley floor. Each time Sandor attempted to corner me against a wall, I slipped aside with a sudden nimbleness. Our swords scraped and chimed, echoing off the bricks.


    He snarled. ¡°What the fuck are you? Your strength doesn¡¯t make sense for your size.¡± He poured raw fury into an overhead strike that could¡¯ve split a lesser man in two. I angled my blade to deflect, the impact jolting up my arm, but I held firm.


    I responded with a crushing side slash that nearly tore the sword from his grip. He twisted his wrist with surprising grace for such a brute, recovering before I could deliver a finishing blow. ¡°Freak,¡± he spat through gritted teeth, eyes blazing with defiance.


    I smiled. ¡°You have no idea, Clegane.¡±


    Sweat dampened both our brows, the stench of blood and smoke wafting in from the city¡¯s riot. My lungs filled with harsh, dusty air. Adrenaline surged as I felt the quiet draconic power inside me guide my movements. I was not in the realms of human anymore. Sandor charged again, blade scraping brick, sending sparks dancing, but I sidestepped and struck a shallow cut across his armor. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He gasped, staggering back, a trickle of blood seeping through a tear in the metal. I pressed forward, unrelenting. His eyes flared wide, as if confronted by a demon.


    I felt like I could have ended this even faster if I¡¯d used my spear. But regardless, it was ending. With a powerful kick, I drove my boot into his chest, sending him crashing into a half-toppled pile of crates.


    Wood splintered around him, and he dropped to a knee, sword arm trembling. I closed in, blade raised, breath ragged. I could sense the childlike terror in Sansa¡¯s wide eyes¡ªfear for me, for him, for herself. For a moment, I entertained finishing Sandor Clegane right there, letting the final blow descend.


    But some part of me recognized his potential, or at least the possibility that I might need his grudging respect more than his death. He was a really useful character, and far more likeable than his brother.


    My sword hovered near his throat. ¡°I¡¯ve no quarrel with you, Clegane,¡± I said in a voice colder than it was before. ¡°You¡¯re a fine fighter, but you made a poor choice standing in my way.¡± He glared up at me, blood trickling over his burn-scarred cheek. I met his gaze, unblinking. ¡°Consider my offer¡­ because this is not the last time we¡¯d cross paths.¡±


    Anger and pain warred in his dark eyes. Before he could reply, I slammed my boot into his face. He slumped, his eyes going white, sword clattering from limp fingers as he fell unconscious.


    For a moment, all I heard was my own pulse. I sheathed my sword as I stared down at the large man¡ªdefeated. The infamous Hound. A shuddering exhale escaped me as the realization sank in.


    I had bested one of Joffrey¡¯s deadliest men in one-on-one combat, one of the top ten within Westeros.


    [You¡¯ve made an achievement for yourself - ¡®Defeat the Hound¡¯!]


    [You¡¯ve received tremendous experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve leveled up.]


    [You¡¯ve leveled up.]


    [You¡¯ve leveled up.]


    [You¡¯ve reached Level 28!]


    Even the System admitted my feat, making me chuckle softly. Hearing my laugh, Sansa made a strangled sound, half-sob, half-relief, pressing her back to the alley wall. I turned to find her trembling gaze locked at me. The blanket around her shoulders slipped, revealing bruised arms and terror-laced eyes. My stance softened a degree.


    I patted my sheathed sword for show, ¡°It¡¯s alright, Lady Sansa.¡± I said and stepped over the debris to offer her my hand. ¡°You¡¯ve seen enough ruin for one day. If you come with me, I¡¯ll see you safe. I can take you to your brother if you wish, or find another path for you. You just have to trust me on this.¡±


    ¡°Trust?¡± Her breath hitched in her throat, eyes full of self-mockery. Yet, raw gratitude swirled with Stark pride and the memory of Targaryen cruelty in her pupils. She glanced at Sandor¡¯s still form, then placed her trembling hand in mine. ¡°O-okay,¡± she whispered. ¡°I really hope you won''t betray it.¡±


    She was still a naive girl, so she trusted people easily. I smiled. Gently, I helped her to her feet, guiding her down the alley¡¯s length. The riot still loomed ahead, a wild sea of misery. We emerged from the gloom, the muddy street opening to a chaotic horizon.


    Before us, King¡¯s Landing was in smoldering anarchy¡ªfires and looters, soldiers and screams. My mind was already spinning on how to maneuver these crowded streets unseen. But as we stepped clear of the shadows, a sudden idea formed in my head.


    I didn¡¯t have to walk through this crowd, I had a better alternative. ¡°Hey, cover yourself better,¡± I said even as I moved the blanket around her head, hiding her features.


    She went to reply, but I¡¯d already moved on. I frowned, and odd rustling stirred at my back as I focused. A strange, wrenching sensation seized me, and a tear of fabric parted behind my shoulders as I grumbled in discomfort. It didn¡¯t hurt.


    Sansa gasped, her eyes widening in the flickering firelight. I also looked back. From my back, through my armor, two dark membranous wings emerged, stretching outward with a faint rasp. Veins glowed faintly red beneath the leathery surface. My draconic evolution¡­ the wings I¡¯d chosen¡­


    [The Dragon Wings]!


    I didn¡¯t know the details of the options; for example, what could the eyes do? And would the scales cover me all the time? That would be troublesome. So I decided to skip it now. I was sure I¡¯d earn all the options over time. The claws didn¡¯t quite interest me. So, in the end, I chose Wings. It turned out I could bring them in and out of existence on will.


    ¡°W-what¡¯s going on?!¡± Sansa asked, stunned.


    My own breath fastened as the surge of new power tingled through my limbs. I placed my hands on her waist, meeting her gaze with calmness. ¡°It¡¯s my first time flying,¡± I said quietly, forcing a half-smile despite the tension thrumming in me. ¡°So hold on tight.¡±


    With one powerful flap, the wings beat against the evening air and Sansa let out a startled cry as we lifted off, her arms clinging to me. I took in a harrowing breath as wind slapped against my face, and I lifted off the streets and into the air. It was an odd feeling as I was dozens of meters above the city already.


    Crowds in the street craned their necks, slack-jawed and terrified. I soared upward, the wings straining but carrying us higher, away from the swirling uproar and into the smoke-blackened sky.


    Below, I glimpsed the city¡¯s battered sprawl. The rioters, watchers, and victims all froze in disbelief as this ghostly figure with silver hair and great, draconic wings ascended. Over their stunned gasps and distant screams, we vanished into the gloom.


    **


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    Come find fellow fans on Discord and more chapters on Patreon!


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 [43] A Promise of Safety

    Chapter 43: A Promise of Safety¡ª


    The courtyard of the Red Keep was a hall full of anxious voices and scurrying figures. Guards with dented armor and sweat-streaked brows barked frantic orders while ragged courtiers huddled beneath the flicker of torchlight as dusk settled in. Broken crates, overturned benches, and muddy footprints reflected the riot that still churned through the city streets beyond the gates. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Tyrion Lannister stood in the thick of it, a wall of Royal Guards forming a tense ring around him and the shaken royal entourage. ¡°You lots. Have any of you found her yet?¡± he demanded, his words sharp as his eyes flicked left and right, searching each soldier¡¯s face for a hint of news.


    A tall guard, helmet askew, shook his head. ¡°No sign of Lady Sansa, my lord. The crowd is still mad¡­ As per your order, a group of guards have been sent to find her. She might still be somewhere in the city, or¡ª¡± He stopped short at Tyrion¡¯s glare.


    ¡°She might be dead, is that what you¡¯re implying?¡± Tyrion snapped, voice louder than he intended. A part of him was worried for Sansa as a person, but the Hand of the King part within him worried about the loss of the biggest card they had against the North. Sansa Stark was an essential piece on the board, her death would strengthen King Robb.


    ¡°Well, I¡­¡±


    ¡°How can all of you be so incompetent?¡± Tyrion cut him off again. ¡°Spread out again! She¡¯s wearing a cloak of blue velvet¡ªsomeone must¡¯ve¡ª¡±


    A harsh laugh sliced through Tyrion¡¯s words. Joffrey, still flushed with indignation from his incident with the filth-throwing peasants, lounged on a shattered bench, fist clenching and unclenching. ¡°I can¡¯t understand why you¡¯re so concerned about that daughter of a traitor, Uncle. Her father lost his head for treason. She¡¯s as worthless as the rest of them.¡±


    Tyrion sent the boy-king a bitter glance. ¡°Your Grace,¡± he forced out, ¡°need I remind you that Lady Sansa is your ward? The entire realm still stands because you have her, believe it or not. Her house has committed crime, true, but she¡¯s your key to the North. Alienating her further to the point of death will¡ª¡±


    Joffrey shot to his feet, face twisted in anger. ¡°House Stark is finished! Let them watch what they want, or let them gnash their teeth. It changes nothing. You think I¡¯m scared of- of Robb Stark?!¡±


    Before Tyrion could respond, a commotion drew his attention.


    A clutch of guards¡ªfilthy, battered¡ªpushed their way through the crowd. They had the strained look of men who¡¯d scoured a city gone mad and found only horrors. Joffrey also turned to them, craning his neck as if to search Sansa amid them. Tyrion turned to them, his heart pounding. At last, some proper news?


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± the guards bowed to Joffrey. ¡°We were the team sent to find Lady Sansa.¡±


    ¡°Well?¡± Joffrey pressed, stepping forward. ¡°Did you find her?¡±


    Of course, they haven¡¯t. Why else will they return alone? Tyrion held back an insult at his nephew¡¯s stupidity.


    The guards exchanged uneasy glances, each man looking to the next. The tallest one cleared his throat, stepping forward. ¡°No sign of Lady Sansa, Your Grace. We searched every major street.¡±


    Tyrion exhaled shakily, alarm gnawing at his insides. Had the worst happened? ¡°Then you come back with nothing?¡± His voice echoed off the scarred walls.


    One guard swallowed hard, turning to him. He loved his title as Imp at times like these; it intimidated these buffoons. ¡°Beg pardon, my lord, but we did hear¡­ something else. From the crowds. They¡¯re talking about¡ªabout a ghost.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Was this time for ghost stories?


    ¡°The ghost of Rhaegar Targaryen.¡±


    A stunned quiet descended on the courtyard. His sister, Cersei, was perched on a low step at the far edge of the group and jerked her head up, her eyes flaring at the mention of that name. Joffrey shifted uneasily, mouth half-open, unsure whether to sneer or demand details. And Tyrion¡ªTyrion felt the air vanish from his lungs.


    ¡°What,¡± Cersei started, her voice dangerously quiet, ¡°did you say?¡± Her green eyes burned with a sudden intensity as though daring reality to confirm this impossible tale.


    The guards hesitated, uncertain whether to repeat such heresy. Tyrion¡¯s breath caught. Ghost of Rhaegar? This madness was beyond any rumor he¡¯d expected.


    ¡°Explain,¡± Tyrion said, voice tight. ¡°What are people saying?¡±


    The guard¡¯s eyes darted around as though fearful uttering the words might call forth a demon. ¡°A man in black armor with a red cloak,¡± he said. ¡°Silver hair, killing City Guards and Royal Guards alike. I even saw the bodies¡ª¡±


    He broke off, voice faltering at the very absurdity of it.


    Torchlight played across the courtyard, painting flickers of confusion and dread on every face. The swirling tension felt thick as a coiled snake preparing to strike. Nobody could believe such words. Rhaegar Targaryen.


    Joffrey¡¯s knuckles whitened on the handle of his sheathed sword. ¡°What idiocy,¡± he barked, though his tone quivered just slightly. ¡°Some peasant¡¯s rumor. Let me see.¡±


    He walked toward the large high window, his steps fast. Tyrion didn¡¯t know what he expected to see from this high up, but he followed. Both of them paused when they neared the window.


    Both stared as a figure jumped into the sky, wings flapping on his back. Thick smoke blocked the rest of the view.


    ¡°What¡­¡± Cersei was beside Tyrion by then, staring at the sky alongside her son. Her expression teetered on the edge of panic. Her green eyes were as wide as Joffrey¡¯s own as House Lannister stared at the soaring dragon amid the smoke.


    ****


    I kicked the door to the old mansion, sending it crashing inward with a heavy thud. The wooden slab banged against the wall, the echo rattling down the hall. It felt odd barging into what was supposed to be my safe haven in this enemy territory like a raiding party, but time and subtlety weren¡¯t luxuries I had right now. I couldn¡¯t risk someone seeing me.


    Sansa was still draped in my arms, trembling under the blanket.


    I stepped inside, closing the door back with a kick. Before heading further inside, I paused to see the sudden noise had unleashed a flurry of movement.


    Three figures leaped from behind upturned furniture, sword, spear, and whip at hands. They had that tense, poised-for-battle look, eyes narrowed and fierce. Meanwhile, in the far corner, I caught sight of Kinvara sitting on a chair, sipping tea with all the calm in the world. She didn¡¯t even blink at the commotion¡ªonly swallowed, set her cup aside, and observed.


    ¡°Intruder,¡± one of the girls said, glaring at me, and I sighed.


    ¡°Just because I am wearing armor doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t recognize me,¡± I said, and my voice made the three armed girls freeze. Wasn¡¯t this embarrassing? They were supposed to be trained on assassination.


    Well, I guess the pair of broad wings still half-unfurled from the flight didn¡¯t help my identity. They locked gazes with Kinvara, who took an unhurried sip of her tea. ¡°Rest assured, it¡¯s him,¡± she said simply, as though that explained everything.


    The girls lowered their weapons a fraction later, confusion transforming into relief, though their eyes still lingered on my wings. ¡°I was worried when I heard you headed into the city on a killing spree,¡± Nymeria Sand said, and I waved it off.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were back,¡± I looked at Kinvara and said while focusing a little on folding the draconic membranes against my back. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be waiting there as I asked.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s pleasant to hear you worry about me, but I¡¯m not a child, Your Grace,¡± Kinvara smiled, and her gaze drifted to my half-conscious passenger. ¡°Unlike the guest you¡¯ve brought.


    ¡°...Take us upstairs,¡± I said, glancing at the girls. ¡°Find an empty bedroom.¡±


    They nodded. One of them led the way with hurried steps. I followed as Sansa¡¯s weight grew heavier against my arms. She looked confused but also relieved; perhaps seeing so many girls around made her feel safer. She didn¡¯t speak, but her eyes darted across the cramped corridors and then back at the wings that poked from my back.


    My wings might have unnerved her more than the chaos outside.


    We reached a small bedroom with a simple bed shoved against one corner. Dust surrounded the beam of torchlight that rested beside the window.


    I laid Sansa on the mattress, gently levering her fingers off the blanket. She sat up, breathing heavily, her gaze flicking from my face to the wings that were barely on my back now. ¡°Are you hurt?¡± I asked, scanning for bruises or cuts. ¡°You can tell me we have medicine here.¡±


    She swallowed, voice quivering. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m fine. Just¡­¡±


    I looked at the Sand girls. ¡°Bring a set of clothes for her; some rapist bastards tore hers.¡± Tyene blinked and nodded, quickly turning around. I turned back to Sansa, who looked at me with further confusion.


    ¡°Thank you. But¡­ I don¡¯t understand what you¡ª¡± Her eyes once again slid to where the wings were. ¡°What is that? What are you?¡±


    ¡°He is the one true king,¡± Before I could answer, Kinvara entered, her crimson robes contrasting against the drab walls. She offered Sansa an oddly maternal smile as she stepped close to me. Then she looked at me. ¡°Shall I speak your name openly?¡±


    I went quiet, and Sansa¡¯s frightened gaze hovered on us both. I nodded. Might as well. If my next plans were to be fulfilled, my identity had to be clear. ¡°Yes,¡± I said, my voice low. ¡°No more charades.¡±


    Kinvara inclined her head. ¡°Then hear me, my lady.¡± She turned to Sansa, gesturing with a measured sweep of her hand. ¡°This is Viserys Targaryen, third of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. King Aerys II crowned him as the next in line after Prince Rhaegar¡¯s death, no matter how short that moment may have lasted, he¡¯s the rightful heir of the realm. My lady, he saved you because no false king¡ªno child monster like Joffrey¡ªshould hold the daughter of honorable Ned Stark as a hostage.¡±


    Sansa¡¯s expression flickered, uncertainty and distrust flashing across her features. But when she heard her father¡¯s name, she looked a little more trusting. Still, her next words revealed her skepticism. ¡°So¡­ you rescued me just to capture me yourself?¡± She glanced at me, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.


    I shook my head. ¡°That¡¯s not my aim. I- well, let me explain it better. Kinvara,¡± I took a quick look at Kinvara, and when I nodded at her, she cast the illusion over my hair with a subtle motion of her hand. My silver locks turned black again in a soft shimmer, and with a simple mental command, I Equipped my battered cloak and armor with more casual clothes.


    The swirling shimmer of the [Inventory] completed the transformation so swiftly that I saw Sansa¡¯s eyes widen in shock. It was magic, after all. Even Kinvara raised an eyebrow, but I ignored her and everyone else. My focus was on Sansa.


    I met her gaze. ¡°We¡¯ve met before, my lady,¡± I said gently, ¡°though under less dramatic circumstances. ¡®Winter is coming,¡¯ I told you that day,¡± A faint, wry smile tugged at my lips as I watched her nod slowly.


    ¡°¡­I thought you were a northerner,¡± she said.


    ¡°I am sorry to give you false hope about that. Then again, no northerner would have been able to save you. I can, and I have,¡± I said. ¡°In truth, winter is already here, and it may be the longest winter in a few generations. Fighting the North right now is senseless, your people are the people of winter. And the realm can¡¯t survive more infighting¡­ not with everything else that¡¯s coming.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I see,¡± she said and stared at me, her suspicion at war with dawning recognition.


    I offered a small, reassuring gesture. ¡°I really don¡¯t have any ulterior motives, my lady. I am not my father, I am not maddened. I simply intend to see you safely returned to your brother, as that¡¯s for the better. That¡¯s all. Whether you wish it or not, it¡¯s my duty¡­ as the protector of the realm. Or at least,¡± I exhaled, ¡°that¡¯s the kind of King I aspire to be.¡±


    Still trembling, Sansa stared at me as if testing the veracity of my words. And yet, in that moment, it wasn¡¯t fear alone that shone in her eyes but a fragile glimmer of hope. Would I truly deliver her to her brother from all this madness? If so, she wouldn¡¯t mind if I was a trashy Targaryen.


    [Image Here]


    Spoiler


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 [44] Drifting High, A Chase and Run

    Chapter 44: Drifting High, A Chase and Run¡ª S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She sat on a carved wooden seat, just a step below her son¡¯s Iron Throne¡¯s looming height. Flickers of torchlight caught the metal blades fused into the throne behind her, casting uneasy shadows that flashed across her face like ghosts. She smelled the sweat and sensed fear lingered in the Great Hall as so many city guards knelt before her son.


    Joffrey¡¯s barking voice carried from across the chamber, but she paid it no mind. The commotion in the hall was merely an afterthought in her mind.


    Rhaegar Targaryen. The name rattled her more than any riot. Her mind screamed that name for her, and she¡¯d have trembled if she was alone.


    She remembered her younger self, head filled with dreams¡ªdreams with a silver-haired prince at their center. She once believed she¡¯d marry him and come very close to that. He almost became her fiance, if only King Aerys II wasn¡¯t a senile old fucker who¡¯d grown increasingly paranoid of Tywin, believing that his Hand was becoming too powerful. He refused the marriage proposal as a way to humiliate Tywin and keep him in check.


    Then again, was he truly senile when all his actions were mostly right?


    She sighed and pushed that thought aside. She didn¡¯t care about an old dead geezer. She cared about his handsome dead son¡­ She¡¯s always wished to be with Rhaegar, and yet cold reality offered only Robert Baratheon¡¯s drunken fists and stinking breath. Jaime¡¯s closeness had dulled that ache but never erased it. She¡¯d never tell her brother that she used him as a replacement for Rhaegar; he was a second choice.


    Despite all that, why were there rumors of Rhaegar returning suddenly? As a ¡°ghost,¡± no less. Just a doppelganger? Or¡­ Magic? A small part of her flinched at the idea, but she knew the world was full of dark wonders. She herself had lived by a prophecy¡¯s shadow for too long to dismiss it.


    She frowned. What was the point of wondering about things she couldn¡¯t confirm? From the corner of her eye, she caught Joffrey waving off the City Guards, hurling curses at them to find ¡°that bastard Targaryen¡± but failing to give proper instructions.


    He ranted on, voice shrill with wounded pride. Cersei exhaled slowly, forcing her nerves back into calm.


    If the rumors were true and Rhaegar¡ªor something like him¡ªwalked the city, she had to see it with her own eyes. Her chest fluttered at the thought, half fear, half longing. It was idiocracy, she knew, but¡­ she was infatuated to this day.


    ¡°What in the seven hells do you mean you didn¡¯t find anything, you heathens! You waste of food!¡± Finally, Joffrey grew louder, making the entire hall fall silent. He was only making a muddle of the guards¡¯ orders. Her lips parted in a faint, disdainful smile.


    How had her son skipped the Lannister intelligence?


    He was just like Jamie.


    He couldn¡¯t expect to quell the city¡¯s chaos like this. It wouldn¡¯t work. Thankfully, he had him by her side. Restraint snapped in her chest, and her voice cut clean.


    ¡°Enough.¡± The single word rippled through the hall. Joffrey fell silent, shocked at the interruption. He scowled and opened his mouth to shout, but Cersei shot him a sharp look. ¡°I¡¯ll do the talking.¡±


    She couldn¡¯t understand where the bravery came from, even though he¡¯d threatened her before, but she moved anyway. She rose an inch from her seat, gazing over the uneasy guards. ¡°He¡¯s clearly not a normal person. He can fly. But nobody saw him leave the walls of the city. So he¡¯s still here. Keep searching for him. I¡¯m certain it should be difficult¡­ but not impossible. You will scour every corner of King¡¯s Landing,¡± she declared. ¡°Find this dragon-winged pretender calling himself Rhaegar.¡±


    She watched their expressions and clenched her jaw. ¡°I don¡¯t care if the rumor sounds absurd or if you fear it. Drag him here, dead or alive.¡± Preferably alive, but she couldn¡¯t say that here.


    ¡°Alive!¡± Joffrey suddenly slammed his fist on the throne¡¯s armrest. ¡°I want to kill him myself!¡±


    Cersei looked at her son and then smiled. Oh, her lovely baby was helping her so much, even without intending to. Must be the spiritual connection of a mother and son.


    Despite the smile on her lips, she hadn¡¯t realized her hands had clenched into fists until she forced them open. If this ghost is the true him, she told herself, I¡¯ll discover what he wants¡ªand if it¡¯s a lookalike¡­ Her heart squeezed at the possibility. I¡¯d get myself a Rhaegar Pet Targaryen.


    ¡°All of you,¡± she snapped to the guards, ¡°go. Now!¡± \


    They scrambled away into the gloom, leaving only her and Joffrey. She hardly glanced at her son¡¯s affronted face. One way or another, I will meet you, Ghost of Targaryen.


    ****


    My knife carved through an apple¡¯s crisp flesh with a soft crunch, and the slices fell into my palm. The night was quiet except for the rustle of the wind against the shutters. I sat at a small table in the dimly lit living room, the only illumination source a single lantern swaying gently from the low ceiling.


    A light knock fell on the door, making me look up. ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± a feminine voice said.


    ¡°Come in,¡± I permitted, and the door creaked open. Ros stepped inside, her posture easing as she closed the door. Thick auburn curls framed her face, and a thin layer of wariness shone in her eyes as she walked toward me.


    ¡°...Your Grace,¡± she greeted, dipping her head. The others in the room looked at her from the corner of their eyes. We were all here except for Sansa, who must be resting.


    I slid a piece of apple past my lips and munched, offering her a small smile. ¡°You¡¯re finally here, Ros. I¡¯ve been waiting. You must have come with news?¡±


    She inclined her head, stepping closer to my table. As she closed up, I noticed how her face showed less emotion than when we first met. ¡°Yes, and some of it isn¡¯t pleasant. The City Watch is already combing the streets for this so-called ¡®Ghost of Targaryen.¡¯ I know it¡¯s you, right? Unless we have got a real ghost to worry about?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ve locked down half the districts near Flea Bottom and the Gate of the Gods. There¡¯s talk of forming nightly patrols¡ªheavier than before. There¡¯s a lot of guards patrolling already.¡±


    I hummed. ¡°I expected as much. Whatever, let them chase shadows,¡± I said, and my eyes flicked toward Kinvara, who stood near the window, half-hidden by the moon¡¯s glow. She sipped from a cup. It was probably some strong tea or mild wine, I never quite knew; she always loved drinking weird stuff. A moment later, Kinvara cast me a knowing look over the rim.


    ¡°It¡¯s nearly midnight,¡± I said to her. ¡°Is it a good time to leave?¡±


    Kinvara shrugged her slender shoulders, a faint smile ghosting her lips. ¡°Since when did you start asking for my opinion, my King? You¡¯re the one who moves mountains with a thought. All I offer is a flicker of voice.¡±


    A soft laugh bubbled from my chest. ¡°True enough. But I am not a prophet. If I¡¯m to roam this city again, there¡¯s a chance I might get exposed. So I need your magic visions to stay three steps ahead of every fool with a sword. Will I get caught if I leave now?¡±


    She turned her gaze to the window, the corners of her eyes crinkling with subdued amusement. ¡°Very wise of you, Your Grace. I thought your recent growth would cloud your mind, as it happens with many rulers. So yes, you can leave now. It¡¯ll be unwise to delay any longer. But¡­ let me be clear: my words aren¡¯t absolute, only glimpses. You still have to be careful.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said.


    Nymeria Sand and her sisters hovered near the doorway, exchanging pointed glances. One of them cleared her throat. ¡°Is it really wise to head north? Robb Stark¡¯s father ended your father¡¯s reign. Seems more than a little risky.¡±


    The other sister, Obara Sand, nodded. ¡°Also, will the people not find it suspicious, Your Grace? You¡¯ve been gone for a month, and when you return, the ¡®Ghost of Rhaegar¡¯ suddenly appears in King¡¯s Landing. Right when the ghost vanishes, you also seem nowhere to be found. That is bound to raise questions.¡±


    ¡°Not really. How many people come and go every day? Plus¡­¡± I looked to the side at Ros.


    She blinked and nodded with the faintest flicker of a smile. ¡°I can handle the rumor mill, my ladies. My information network can guide suspicion away from us. Petyr Baelish and Lord Varys may be formidable but not infallible. It only takes a few sparks of gossip in the right corners.¡±


    The Sand sisters didn¡¯t look wholly convinced, eyebrows raised, but they didn¡¯t press further.


    ¡°But¡­¡± Ros hesitated as she looked at me. A flicker of the old Ros who fell in love showed on her face. ¡°You¡¯re leaving for the North? With¡­ Sansa Stark, I¡¯m assuming? But that sounds dangerous¡­¡± She said, and a second later, she quickly bowed. ¡°Forgive me, I¡¯m overstepping my b-boundaries.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, Ros. Don¡¯t be like that with me. Are we that distant?¡± I sighed, shaking my head. ¡°And yes, you¡¯ve hit the mark. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be back as I always have.¡±


    She just kept her head low, falling silent. Before I could talk to her again, footsteps echoed from the stairs above.


    Sansa was coming down, wrapped in a black blanket. She paused upon seeing Ros, recognition flashing in her eyes¡ªlikely recalling that Ros worked in Littlefinger¡¯s brothel, once brought to Joffrey¡¯s bedchamber alongside another girl.


    Sansa¡¯s posture stiffened, uncertainty twisting her features.


    I moved to stand, setting the apple knife aside. ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± I said, drawing Sansa¡¯s wary gaze to me. ¡°Ros is trustworthy. She¡¯s on our side¡ªon my side.¡±


    She exhaled shakily and nodded, seemingly not fully convinced but too exhausted to argue. I popped one last bite of apple into my mouth, then rose fully from the table. Approaching her, I offered my hand as she navigated the bottom step. ¡°Are you ready?¡± I asked softly.


    She hesitated. ¡°How¡­ how will we escape the city? I heard earlier¡­ that every guard and watchman is looking for us. Plus, if we fly out from here, they will realize this is where you live¡­¡±


    I smiled. ¡°Leave that to me.¡±


    ****


    An hour later, the city¡¯s emptiest streets came alive with furious shouting. A half-dozen guards, brandishing torches and swords, tore after two fleeing figures. One was a tall, armor-clad man with silver-blond hair peeking from beneath his helm, and the other was a girl wrapped in dark cloth. The guards cursed, their footfalls pounding against slick cobblestones as they rushed through back alleys and crooked lanes.


    ¡°Stop!¡± one roared, voice echoing between narrow walls. But the pair only sprinted faster, twisting around an abandoned corner strewn with toppled crates.


    The guards gave chase until they cornered them near a dead-end alley blocked by a collapsed pile of debris. The men slowed, panting, their torches bobbing in the gloom. ¡°We¡¯ve got you now,¡± the lead guard sneered, lifting his blade. ¡°No way out!¡±


    The armored man slowly faced them, his breath stirring the chill air. The guards thought the situation was dealt with. But then¡­ his lips curved in a thin smile. A flicker rippled along his back¡ªtwo membranous wings unfurled, catching the torchlight with an eerie sheen.


    ¡°Seven Hells,¡± someone choked, stepping back. ¡°I thought it was a stupid rumor since he was running!¡±


    The girl clung to the man¡¯s arm, her face hidden under her hood. In a smooth motion, the man wrapped both arms around her waist, making her gasp, and gave a powerful flap, soaring upward. The guards gasped, one stumbling and nearly dropping his torch as he craned his neck to watch the impossible sight.


    They vanished into King¡¯s Landing night sky, leaving the guards seething uselessly. Curses echoed up the alley, but only the fading silhouette of ¡®Rhaegar¡¯ Targaryen and Sansa Stark remained, drifting higher until they melted into the clouds.


    **


    **


    **

 [45] Dragon Ride to the Riverlands

    Chapter 45: Dragon Ride to the Riverlands¡ª


    We soared beneath a sky of countless stars, the chaos of King¡¯s Landing fading to a glittering blur far below until it totally vanished as minutes turned to hours,


    Sansa¡¯s arms wrapped tight around my waist, her cloak snapping in the wind, her breath ragged but steady over time. She held me tightly; honestly, it was fun to be held like that. I was sure she wasn¡¯t even aware of it. My wings pounded against the cool night air, and each flap made me more familiar with flying, though the muscles in my back ached with every push. I couldn¡¯t go on like this forever. I had to train on these new muscles.


    By dawn¡¯s first glow, I knew we had to land¡ªdaylight would make us more visible to people. More than that, my back hurt like crazy. My gaze fell on a quiet meadow near a winding stream, its tall grass swaying in the early light. With one final beat, we touched down, the dew spraying in silver arcs. As I let Sansa go, she stumbled, eyes unfocused.


    ¡°My head¡¯s spinning,¡± she muttered, stepping away from me and swaying on her feet.


    ¡°Need help?¡± I offered, reaching for her waist again. It was a firm thing.


    ¡°Uh,¡± she half-swat my hand away with a flustered look. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m fine.¡±


    She steadied herself while I shrugged and folded my wings with a low ripple of magic. The membranes sank into my back, leaving nothing but smooth skin beneath my cloak. This was an evolution I was still getting used to. It felt¡­ right. Magical. I was becoming a dragon, but I could choose to hide the features. No trace of them remained except the dull ache in my shoulders.


    A moment passed as we looked around, and Sansa seemed unsure how to break the tension. I cleared my throat, rummaging through my [Inventory] to retrieve a small hatchet and some provisions. She blinked as I did that, although she¡¯d seen it once in action before.


    Soon a small fire crackled between us in the meadow¡¯s hush, and I used the meager supplies I''d stashed¡ªsome dried meat, a few wrinkled vegetables¡ªto craft a modest meal. My inventory wasn¡¯t endless, so I couldn¡¯t hold too many things in there. Sansa watched in stunned silence until I extended a handful of food her way.


    ¡°Oh¡­ Thank you,¡± she said quietly, lowering her gaze as she took a bite. We ate silently for a while, and then, her eyes flicked back to me as she whispered, ¡°Is¡­ is it alright if I ask questions?¡±


    I arched my brow. ¡°Ask away. I¡¯m not a bore like Stannis Baratheon, don¡¯t be so hesitant.¡± A smirk tugged at my lips, and she let out a soft, uneasy laugh.


    She gestured vaguely at my back. ¡°You disappeared for so long, and now you have¡­ wings? You carried me across half the sky, but I still can¡¯t believe it. Are you still human?¡±


    I turned the spit over the fire, letting the savory aroma swirl around us. ¡°I spent years in Essos after fleeing Westeros with my baby sister, surviving mostly by wits and luck. People mocked me as a beggar king, and they took advantage of me along the way. They thought I never noticed, but I was just too helpless to say anything back. Those same people are crawling to me now as I¡¯ve become more than a mortal man.¡± I paused, dropping my gaze. ¡°To be fair, I can¡¯t blame them for looking down at me before.¡±


    Her expression softened, sympathy brightening her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s not alright to look down on anybody, don¡¯t say you can¡¯t blame them. You should. I¡­ used to think you were just the Targaryen prince who sold his sister for an army, for those are the stories that reached my ears. My impression of you was horrible like you were a piece of trash. But after you saved me, and as I realize what you went through¡­¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not entirely untrue. I did hand Daenerys to Khal Drogo, but it wasn¡¯t that simple. My father¡¯s crimes condemned our entire house, and we had no allies. You can blame me for it, but I doubt you can propose a better idea. And I doubt you realize how hurt I was. I know you people see incest as a bad thing, but to us Targaryens, my sister wasn¡¯t just that. From childhood, I dreamt of ruling the realm with her by my side¡­ Imagine selling off someone like that to a barbarian,¡± I forced a faint smile.


    This wasn¡¯t a lie. Before I¡¯d awakened these memories, Viserys didn¡¯t enjoy making that decision. He just had no other choice. No, speaking of choices, the marriage idea was proposed to me by Illyrio Mopatis¡­ I¡¯d wondered this before, but did Young Griff exist in this world? If he did, it¡¯d make a lot of sense.


    Perhaps it¡¯d been all a part of Illyrio¡¯s plans. He manipulated the pre-Viserys into selling off his sister and future bride. Somehow, that realization made my forehead cool, and my blood boil.


    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry¡­¡± Sansa said, pulling me out of my thoughts.


    I shook off the rage and smiled, ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s all in the past. As for the wings, they are just one part of what I¡¯ve become. My¡­ draconic side, so to speak. I¡¯m unsure if I am still fully human or not, but rest assured, I am human enough.¡±


    Her gaze flicked down. ¡°Draconic side,¡± she repeated as if tasting the words. A man who had become a dragon. Even this young Sansa understood the implications of that. Then she exhaled softly, clasping her hands over the blanket. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you had to endure so much¡ªbecause of what your father did. You and your sister didn¡¯t deserve such things.¡±


    I smiled, looking up at the sky, and sighed. Then I nodded, stirring the small pot with my makeshift ladle. ¡°We have time, Sansa. I promised to bring you to your brother, but the journey won¡¯t be quick. So if your curiosity itches, keep asking. Better to talk than brood in silence.¡±


    She smiled, ¡°Sure thing, Prince Viserys,¡± she said, and I ignored how she didn¡¯t call me Your Grace. She¡¯d seen others refer to me as that, but she chose not to. We spent a while swapping questions and answers, Sansa¡¯s voice growing more natural once she realized I wasn¡¯t about to lash out and that this wasn¡¯t a trap. I teased her about her formalities, and she teased me about my supposed arrogance. I didn¡¯t think I was arrogant, but she didn¡¯t agree.


    The talk was¡­ surprisingly pleasant.


    But like all good things, it came to an end. Eventually, a new tension slid across the camp. I looked up at a rustling in the tall grass. Four ragged figures emerged from the thicket, eyes sunken with hunger. Their clothes hung off them, bones pressing against too-thin frames. My fingers brushed the hilt of my sword, uncertain if this would lead to violence.


    They shuffled forward, desperation in their eyes. ¡°P-please, Ser Knight,¡± one croaked, eyes on the simmering stew over our small fire. ¡°We mean no harm. Just¡­ hungry.¡±


    Hungry, they say, I didn¡¯t doubt them. They looked on the verge of dying from starvation. I¡¯d say even Sansa could defeat them in this state. They meant no harm.


    Before I could decide, however, Sansa spoke up, her voice shy but firm. ¡°Let them have some,¡± she said, glancing at me. ¡°We¡¯ll be leaving soon anyway. Plus, we¡¯d have a lot more food once we reach Riverla¡ª¡± She froze, realizing she nearly revealed our destination aloud. My warning look made her flush. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m sorry.¡±


    I sighed, turning to the men. It didn¡¯t matter, even if they heard it; they were just hungry men. ¡°Fine. Take a bowl.¡± I ladled out a portion of the stew, handing it to their trembling hands.


    In the next few minutes, they devoured all their portion with greedy urgency, uttering choked words of thanks before shuffling back into the shadows of the trees.


    Once they¡¯d gone, Sansa released a breath she¡¯d been holding. ¡°Once again, I¡¯m sorry for slipping, and¡­ Thank you for feeding them,¡± she whispered. ¡°It was a good deed. I think you¡¯re a far better King than Joffrey already.¡±


    I only nodded, stifling the pang of worry that we might¡¯ve just raised suspicions. But part of me admired how she refused to let fear bury her kindness, even if it risked everything. A King should be ruthless, but a Queen could be kind.


    We¡¯ll just have to be careful. But I¡¯ll admit, I like her. I noted as the sun climbed higher, warming the meadow. I doused the fire and packed our meager supplies.


    ****


    Yet, it seemed fate didn¡¯t judge Sansa as kindly as me.


    Half an hour later, my suspicions showed up in the flesh. ¡°How annoying,¡± I sighed as Sansa followed my gaze. I saw those same ragged men skulking back through the tall grass, only now they weren¡¯t alone.


    A handful of guards in mismatched armor trailed behind, clutching weapons with tense but ready grips. A calloused finger pointed straight at me. ¡°That¡¯s him,¡± the leader of the hungry men rasped, his voice thick with guilt and triumph. ¡°They¡¯re the ones traveling to Riverlands.¡±


    ¡°Oh, the Seven, why¡­¡± Beside me, Sansa looked betrayed as she looked at the men. I shook my head while she looked at me, biting her lip. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she mumbled, her head lowering beneath my look.


    ¡°Whatever. Use this as a learning experience,¡± I exhaled, trying not to let the knot in my chest tighten further. So much for kindness. Stepping around our dying campfire, I let out a tired grunt. ¡°I suppose there¡¯s no helping it, then.¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother to unsheathe my sword. No, I had a better idea. Without hesitation, I raised my hand sharply¡ªcalling upon the [House of Dragon] skill from within me.


    It¡¯d been a few days since my baby last fed; this was a fine meal. A flash of crackling air later, Viserion emerged in a swirl of hot breath and gleaming gold scales. Her roar shook the meadow, scattering embers from our half-dead fire.


    Terrified gasps split the group of newly arrived guards. Sansa jerked back, eyes going wide. ¡°W-what?!¡± She shouted, and I caught her elbow, anchoring her in place.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± I said, and turned to Viserion. ¡°Dracarys,¡± I let out a cold sneer.


    Flames consumed the clearing in an instant. Shouts turned to shrieks, then died abruptly in the blaze. Viserion lurched forward, fangs closing on charred forms with sickening finality.


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a human.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a human.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a human.] Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a human.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    ¡­


    [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a human.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve leveled up.]


    [You¡¯ve reached Level 29!]


    The stench of scorched flesh rolled across us, and Sansa gagged, turning her face away. My stomach rolled in discomfort, but I pressed a reassuring hand against Viserion¡¯s flank anyway. She was simply being a dragon, after all.


    A moment later, the discomfort vanished. And I felt my mouth water¡­ I quickly blinked, shaking off the feeling. Shit, that¡¯s not good. I didn¡¯t want to eat humans.


    ¡°...Well, that¡¯s that,¡± I muttered under my breath, ignoring the hunger and sparing only a resigned glance at the blackened remains of men who¡¯d sold us out despite me giving them food.


    ¡°What is this?! You have a real DRAGON?!¡± Sansa was shouting beside me while Viserion ate, but I ignored her.


    I tilted my head, pondering for a moment. The dull ache was still in my back, meaning I couldn¡¯t fly on my own wings yet. I might have been fine if I wasn¡¯t carrying Sansa. Real Dragons are built for this¡ªmy scrawny limbs are not. I made a decision as I watched Viserion eat.


    Sansa eventually went silent, her mouth agape, as she hid behind me and watched the dragon. I waited till she was done feasting, which didn¡¯t take long. Then, I approached her.


    ¡°Down, girl,¡± I commanded, voice clipped. Viserion raised her head from the last bits of bones on the ground. Our eyes met, and she hissed, eyes blazing with resentment.


    ¡°What¡­ did¡­ you¡­ say?¡± she asked, making me laugh. Sansa was trembling now. I locked gazes with Viserion, a silent contest of wills passing through us.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯re large enough to carry me now. You¡¯re my ride, Viserion, and I think your instincts know that already. Do not be stubborn in front of me, girl,¡± I said, and she just stared at me.


    Half a minute later, she snorted and hunched down in the grass. ¡°What¡­ever¡­¡±


    A hush fell, save for Sansa¡¯s trembling breath. I turned to the northern wolf, who was stunned, frozen, and beckoned her forward. ¡°Come,¡± I said, and her body moved on its own. Somehow, seeing a real dragon was more shocking than seeing a hybrid. Then again, there were scary legends about Viserion¡¯s species and none about mine.


    Sansa stumbled a little, still half-horrified at the scene around us, but I hoisted her onto Viserion¡¯s back with a swift pull. ¡°H-hey! Is this smart?! Is this safe?!¡± She stiffened and let out a small whimper as my arms encircled her waist.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine, uh, as long as I hold you,¡± I said, trying to keep my tone light. Her only response was a tiny nod, her hands coming around to grip my forearms tightly. I laughed and held one hand tight to the ridges along Viserion¡¯s neck. She followed the gesture.


    As I settled behind Sansa, the dragon rumbled discontent, but I ignored the beast¡¯s simmering attitude. Sansa was not a Targaryen, so Viserion might not like it, but she didn¡¯t actively complain.


    ¡°Go, girl,¡± I tapped her side with my foot, ¡°fly right ahead,¡± I said, and with a low snarl, Viserion launched upward, kicking off the blood-soaked grass.


    Sansa cried, must be feeling her stomach lurch at the sudden ascent, but I didn¡¯t feel it. The wind lashed her red hair across my face, and I laughed. Sansa gave a choked gasp as we rose, each flap of Viserion¡¯s wings sending us higher into the sky, away from the ruin of our generosity.


    So much for quiet travel, I thought grimly. But at least we were moving, skybound and free of that fresh carnage on the ground. It¡¯s okay. I don¡¯t have any reason to hide anymore.


    The world¡¯s troubles vanished beneath us, left far below in a swirl of ash and singed grass, while Lady Stark hugged my arms tightly more than she held onto Viserion. I didn¡¯t mind.


    **


    **


    **


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 [46] Dragon Among Wolves

    Chapter 46: Dragon Among Wolves¡ª


    Catelyn Stark stood in the torchlit tent, her heart pounding and her posture tense like cold steel despite the layers of fur at her shoulders. A hushed ring of Northern lords surrounded her, faces lined with anger. In the center of them all stood Robb Stark, King in the North, jaw tight as he glared at his mother over the long table.


    ¡°How could you?¡± His voice shook, full of fury. ¡°You set Jaime Lannister free¡ªwithout my counsel, without any of my men around to stop you. Mother¡­ do you realize what you¡¯ve done?¡±


    Catelyn¡¯s stomach churned. She¡¯d imagined this confrontation but not the raw bitterness in her son¡¯s eyes. ¡°I did it for Sansa,¡± she said, forcing a calm she didn¡¯t feel. ¡°And for Arya too. The Lannisters hold them hostage¡ª¡±


    ¡°And the Kingslayer was our bargaining chip for that! You had no right!¡± Robb slammed a fist on the table, rattling the metal cups. Several lords shifted uneasily, their fury more than clear. ¡°It¡¯s not just about Sansa or Arya now¡ªit¡¯s the war, the realm itself. You threw away our biggest advantage, our only hostage who truly mattered.¡±


    ¡°I had no choice.¡± The words felt weak even in her own ears. ¡°I am their mother, Robb. I¡ª¡±


    A tall, grim Northern lord¡ªLord Roose Bolton¡ªcut her off coldly. ¡°A mother¡¯s love is fine, but an oath is sacred. There are men in this camp who¡¯d hang you for treason, Lady Catelyn, if you weren¡¯t the mother of our King.¡±


    ¡°She risked our entire cause,¡± another lord spat, knuckles white where he clutched the table edge. Murmurs of agreement rippled.


    Catelyn¡¯s cheeks burned. But she stood firm, gaze locked on her son. ¡°I did what I believed was right. Hate me if you must, but¡ª¡±


    A sudden thunderous flapping cut through the heated stillness. The tent walls rippled as if caught in a gust. Soldiers outside began shouting, their voices taut with alarm. The entire assembly froze. Robb¡¯s gaze flicked to the tent flap, his rage temporarily displaced by confusion.


    ¡°What in the name of the gods¡ª?¡± Lord Umber growled, already turning to unbar the tent entrance. Even Catelyn was startled. What could cause such a strong wind?


    Robb drew himself up. ¡°Everyone, with me,¡± he ordered, stepping forward. Catelyn followed close behind, ignoring the sidelong looks that still bristled with condemnation.


    They emerged into the twilight of the camp, the sky a smoky purple. Men raced between tents, some brandishing spears or crossbows, while others simply stumbled in awe. Above them, wings glinted golden in the torchlight. Everyone froze on their feet.


    A dragon¡ªa golden dragon¡ªhovered overhead, large wings flapping slowly.


    Its roar was a thunderous boom that rattled every shield and quickened every heart.


    Catelyn felt her stomach turn cold. Had she gone mad? Was she seeing things? But everyone around her also stared in awe at the sky. She¡¯d heard stories of Targaryen dragons from her great-grandfather¡¯s time, but to see one like this¡ªalive, wings beating the air¡ªseemed a nightmare made real. Around her, voices tumbled into panic and she felt her own forehead go cold.


    ¡°F-form ranks!¡± a deep-voiced warrior shouted. ¡°Archers, to the ready!¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Robb¡¯s shout cut through the din. His eyes narrowed on the creature, and his voice thundered with command. Cat¡¯s head snapped to her son. What was he saying? ¡°Hold your fire¡ªlook there!¡± He pointed at the dragon¡¯s back.


    The silhouette of a girl¡¯s cloak flapped in the beast¡¯s slipstream. Catelyn¡¯s heart seized as recognition dawned. It was¡­ ¡°Oh, the Seven, it¡¯s Sansa!¡±


    The massive dragon lowered itself, stirring wind across tents and scattering embers from campfires. Soldiers scrambled back, aiming shaky pikes and trembling bows. Then, in a great rush of air, the beast landed, claws digging into the earth. It folded its wings with a deep, rumbling snort.


    Two figures slid down from the dragon¡¯s flank. Everyone stared at the stupidity that they saw. But Cat¡¯s motherly eyes only focused on one figure, who took off her robes to reveal red hair. The first was indeed Sansa, hair disheveled and cloak half undone. Catelyn let out a broken gasp, tears springing to her eyes. She rushed forward without thinking, arms flung wide.


    ¡°Sansa!¡±


    Her daughter stumbled into her embrace, sobbing breathlessly as she called, ¡°Mother?! Oh, Mother, it¡¯s you!¡± Catelyn cradled Sansa¡¯s cheeks, relief and shock tangling in her chest. She drew back only to look Sansa over, her eyes brimming with both joy and pain.


    Meanwhile, the second figure¡ªtall, armor-clad, hair silver as moonlight¡ªstood a half-step behind Sansa, watching. Catelyn hadn¡¯t calmed down, but she shot him a glance, feeling her eyes tremble.


    He looked uncannily like the portraits of Rhaegar Targaryen, the fallen prince of old. Cat had met the man before, but it¡¯d been almost two decades since. She couldn¡¯t be sure if it was the real deal.


    The Northern men leveled a row of blades and spears toward him, forming a circle of steel. Catelyn kissed Sansa¡¯s forehead, then turned to him again, heart still pounding. ¡°W-who is that man¡ª?¡±


    She asked, and instead of responding, Sansa broke from her arms, stepping between the circle of weapons and the silver-haired stranger. ¡°Wait!¡± she cried, voice shaking as she raised her arms. Her gaze darted anxiously to Robb, who stood near with his sword half-raised. ¡°Robb, tell them to lower their weapons. Please, he saved me! I¡¯d be dead¡ªworse than dead¡ªif it wasn¡¯t for him. He¡¯s not our enemy!¡±


    The men exchanged dark glances, uncertain. Robb¡¯s eyes flickered to Sansa, then the Targaryen look-alike, fury and caution warring on his features. ¡°Sansa, step aside,¡± he commanded, voice taut. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re protecting. If he is truly what our eyes tell us he is¡­ some ghost¡­ some twisted magical shadow, he can¡¯t be trusted!¡±


    ¡°I haven''t been bewitched,¡± she countered, tears on her cheeks. ¡°Trust me, brother. He¡¯s here to¡ª he wants to discuss terms. Political terms. Please, just hear him out. Let him speak.¡±


    Silence clamped down on the camp. Dozens of Northern soldiers watched, knuckles white on spearshafts, as Sansa stood quivering in front of the Targaryen, refusing to move. Catelyn trembled, torn between maternal instincts and dread of the name that was Targaryen.


    Robb finally lowered his sword, though not by much. His glare never left the stranger. ¡°No one move, and don¡¯t attack him unless he does first,¡± he commanded, voice ringing with authority. ¡°We¡¯ll see what this¡­ ghost of Rhaegar wants.¡±


    A hush fell over the camp, broken only by the restless stir of the dragon behind them, its breath a low hiss in the chill night.


    ****


    I sat in the tent¡¯s quiet shadows, cuffs biting into my wrists, as I enjoyed the amusing situation. They dared point weapons at me when a dragon stood behind me. What fools. I¡¯d have killed half of them just to set an example if I wasn¡¯t here for politics.


    The makeshift table before me stood mostly empty, save for a flickering oil lamp. Now and then, I heard the soft commotion of footfalls and hushed voices outside¡ªthis Northern camp was restless around me, mistrust bleeding through every canvas seam.


    I waited, wondering when the Northern Lords would be done with their meeting when the tent flap rustled, and Sansa slipped inside, clutching a small tray of food. Two guards stepped in on her heels, eyes darting warily between her and me. She paused and faced them, lifting her chin with surprising resolve.


    ¡°Please, stay outside,¡± she said quietly. ¡°If he meant me harm, he¡¯d have done so earlier. And if he decides to hurt me now, trust me, I doubt the two of you could stop him.¡± Her voice caught as she added, ¡°Don¡¯t make me look more pathetic before him, please.¡±


    The guards hesitated as they exchanged silent glances, then bowed their heads in reluctant compliance. They stepped back out, letting the tent flap close. Sansa turned, eyes falling on mine.


    She approached, placing the tray of stew and bread on the table. We said nothing for a beat. She eyed the chains circling my wrists, then met my gaze. ¡°You¡­ you have food now,¡± she murmured. ¡°I thought you might be hungry.¡±


    A small smile tugged at my lips. ¡°I appreciate it,¡± I said, observing her as she shifted. I thought she might sit across from me for a moment, but with a sudden decision, she dragged the chair around and settled beside me instead. Her eyes lingered on my bound hands.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, voice wavering. ¡°I never imagined they¡¯d treat you like this¡ªnot after you brought me home. On dragon back, no less.¡±


    I let out a soft laugh. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking the same, actually. It¡¯s amusing, isn¡¯t it? But if you think about it, it¡¯s hardly surprising. I arrived unannounced in their camp with a golden dragon, wearing Rhaegar¡¯s armor. It¡¯d be madness not to chain me.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡±


    I tilted my head, giving her a curious look. ¡°I¡¯m more surprised they let you in here alone,¡± I raised my bound hands, putting a finger under her chin and raising it. ¡°What if I end up devouring you instead of the food?¡±


    She blushed, eyes flickering away and hands fiddling with the corner of the tray. ¡°I¡­ I insisted. They¡­ Robb is smart enough to know you won¡¯t harm me after bringing me here, I suppose.¡±


    I laughed, pulling my hands back, while my gaze slid to the tent¡¯s entrance. ¡°By the way, what¡¯s Viserion up to? I hope they didn¡¯t try anything stupid with her?¡±


    Sansa let out a quiet laugh. ¡°They tried. Viserion wouldn¡¯t budge. She¡¯s right outside, apparently snoozing¡­ or pretending, because she hisses at anyone who comes too close. Two men got their arms burnt already.¡±


    ¡°She never misses a chance to intimidate fools,¡± I said, ¡°Besides, she¡¯s probably anxious for me. That¡¯s cute. I¡¯m starting to get fond of her, you see.¡±


    Sansa managed the faintest smile. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re helpless, even if cuffs. Viserion can speak, she¡¯ll definitely rush in if you call her. And well¡­ I¡¯m here. I won¡¯t let them harm you.¡±


    I gave her a sly look. ¡°Are you worried for me, my lady? You¡¯ve grown fond already? And we have barely spent two nights together¡­.¡±


    A blush kissed her cheeks, and she turned her face aside. ¡°W-what?! Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself, I¡¯m still a proper lady!¡± She mumbled, but the corner of her mouth curved just a little. ¡°Anyway, you should eat. You haven¡¯t eaten anything since we landed.¡±


    She pointed at the bowl of stew and paused, uncertain, as she noticed my wrists. I lifted them, rattling the chain link. ¡°I¡¯d love to, but my range of motion is somewhat¡­ limited.¡± I offered an apologetic shrug.


    Her cheeks colored deeper. With a determined nod, she scooted closer, picking up a spoonful of stew. Carefully, she lifted it to my lips. Our eyes locked, and despite her obvious embarrassment, she didn¡¯t falter.


    I sipped the warm broth, feeling an odd sense of closeness in her gesture. ¡°Thank you,¡± I said gently after swallowing the first bite.


    She nodded, giving me the second spoonful. This time, our gazes clung just a moment longer, and I swore she was swallowing more than just nerves. ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± she whispered, her voice as light as the steam drifting from the bowl.


    We¡¯d gotten maybe halfway through the meal when the tent flap flew open. Robb Stark strode in, Catelyn just behind him, followed by a knot of Northern lords. They froze at the sight. Sansa perched beside me, spoon in hand, almost feeding me like a doting nursemaid. Catelyn let out a trembling sigh, and Robb¡¯s eyes flashed with something between fury and mortification.


    ¡°Stop this,¡± Robb growled. ¡°This is embarrassing.¡±


    A slow grin crept onto my face. ¡°Why¡¯s it embarrassing to feed the King of the realm, Lord Stark?¡± I asked. The room fell silent at that, tension crackling in the dim lamplight.


    One of the Northern lords¡ªRoose Bolton, of all people¡ªspoke up, voice cold. ¡°You call yourself king while wearing the armor of a dead man? Enough with the pretending. Let¡¯s hear your true name and claim.¡±


    I rose from the chair, chains rattling. Sansa flinched, but I stood calmly. ¡°I don¡¯t like the disrespect in your tone, Lord Bolton,¡± I said. ¡°My name¡­¡± with a flex of my wrists, the cuffs snapped and tumbled to the ground, and I was free. ¡°Is Viserys Targaryen. Third of my name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.¡±


    A chorus of scraping steel echoed as men drew weapons. Sansa scrambled to stand between them and me, her stance half-shielding my figure.


    I gave a half-smile, trying not to sound too pompous. ¡°It¡¯s awkward to recite my own titles, but¡­ my father, King Aerys II, named me heir after Rhaegar¡¯s death, however short-lived that might have been. So please, be careful at whom you point your sword.¡±


    Silence seized the tent. They stared, stunned.


    I continued calmly, ¡°I¡¯ve come back to Westeros to reclaim the throne that¡¯s mine by right, and yes¡ªI do have a golden dragon to help. I didn¡¯t wear this armor to mock my brother; it¡¯s simply a homage. Rhaegar Targaryen was a fine ruler, even if his character was questionable. People assumed I was his ghost, but that¡¯s on them, not me.¡± S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    No one spoke. Robb¡¯s hand lowered an inch on his sword, though caution still shaped his posture. Catelyn¡¯s eyes flicked from Sansa¡¯s smiling form to me, worry etched in every line of her face. Around us, the Northern lords stood tense, jaws clenched, as if bracing for battle.


    Whatever comes next, I noted, will reshape the realm. Before a Dragon Rider Targaryen, their so-called King in the North might just be a mere piece on the board.


    **


    **


    **

 [47] A Pact of Thrones

    Chapter 47: A Pact of Thrones¡ª


    I stood amid the Northern host in a wide, candlelit tent, the flap stirring in a cold breeze that sent shadows flickering across the canvas walls. The slow breathing of a sleeping dragon could be heard coming from outside as I faced the lords with my chin raised high.


    My wrists were no longer bound, but every stern-eyed guard and glowering lord around me reminded me that I was still very much a stranger in their midst¡ªa dragon among wolves. It was amusing, knowing they could do shit not to me.


    Alone, I might have been in some danger. But with Viserion outside? I truly enjoyed the benefits that just the sheer presence of my dragon brought.


    In the center of it all, Robb Stark glared at me from behind a rough-hewn war table. The King in the North looked as I remembered him from the TV Show, a wolf¡¯s tension in his stance, the harsh lines of command etched into his face, even if he was still too young for that burden. His sword rested on the table, unsheathed but set aside, an unsaid threat that this meeting could turn violent at any moment.


    To his right sat Catelyn Stark, her fingers laced tight before her, eyes flicking between her son and me. Sansa sat on my left side, uneasy but resolute, as if her mere presence might shield me from the lords¡¯ hostility. ¡°You should sit beside your brother,¡± I leaned to her and whispered. ¡°It¡¯s not a good look on him in front of his lords.¡±


    ¡°...Alright,¡± she nodded and stood up, walking around to sit in an empty chair close to Robb. Everyone watched her do that and turned their heads back to me. Around the circle, a handful of grim-faced bannermen, Lord Bolton, Lord Umber, and others, observed in rigid silence.


    When everyone was sitting, and the silence began to grow uncomfortable, Robb spoke, voice tight, carrying the weight of a war behind it. ¡°You claim to be Viserys Targaryen. I can¡¯t find myself doubting you, for you¡¯ve come here with a dragon.¡± His gaze flicked to Sansa briefly, then pinned me. ¡°Why come here to the North? We hold no love for your family, not since your father burned my grandfather and uncle. Make no mistake, I am grateful that you¡¯ve returned my sister home. But for what? You must want something.¡±


    I scoffed at the mention of my father¡¯s sins. ¡°Firstly, I make no defense of King Aerys¡¯ atrocities,¡± I said evenly, letting my gaze sweep the gathered lords. ¡°He wronged many, worse than mere words can repair. The thing is, he wronged even his own children.¡±


    The lords exchanged glances, and the older ones knew what I meant. I continued, ¡°He felt threatened by my brother, Rhaeger, suspecting him to overthrow him and take the realm for himself, which was a stupid worry given that Rhaeger was the heir. Indeed, he was mad. But I am not him. I¡¯m no Mad King. And I¡¯m not here to claim the North if that¡¯s your fear.¡±


    He raised an eyebrow, skeptical. ¡°You land in my camp¡ªuninvited¡ªbearing the name Targaryen, wearing Rhaegar¡¯s visage, and you talk of peace? Why?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a military genius, I¡¯ll grant you that, but it seems you¡¯re still a boy wet behind the ears when it comes to politics,¡± I said, and in response, Lord Karstark shot up, sword at hand. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°Watch your mouth, Beggar King! You cannot insult our King inside his camp!¡± he shouted, and I just smirked, eyeing him.


    ¡°How loyal the northernmen are. I happen to pick up some gossip from the camp that Lady Catelyn here released Jamie Lannister, which resulted in the death of your son? Despite that, you¡¯re so loyal to him,¡± I said, and a silent fell on the tent. Robb clenched his jaw while Catelyn lowered her head.


    They must be wondering how I¡¯d heard such gossip when I was cuffed inside this tent. Their eyes naturally flicked to Sansa, but even she looked confused. She hadn¡¯t heard about that yet. The truth was, I did indeed pick it up from gossip¡ªmy ears could hear more than a normal man. Not something like Marvel¡¯s Daredevil, for example, but enough.


    Lord Karstark sat down, and I smiled. ¡°I¡¯m not here to insult you, Robb. While it¡¯s true that our fathers had some bad blood, our ancestors didn¡¯t. The previous King in the North was the only king to submit to Aegon without the need for war. People call him the King Who Knelt, but I''d call him the King Who Cared. He chose what was best for his people, even though he knew people might mock him for it. And guess what, his choice was right for three hundred years.¡±


    ¡°...What are you getting at?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m getting at the enemy in the south,¡± I replied, ¡°one that threatens us both. The Iron Throne is held by the Lannisters, perched on a shaky claim, with no right except force and fear. I come seeking allies to make that child-king kneel.¡±


    From the corner, I felt Lord Bolton¡¯s cold eyes on me. ¡°And we¡¯re to believe you¡¯d do any better, Targaryen? We¡¯ve not forgotten the dragonfire of old.¡±


    I met that pale glare without flinching. ¡°You¡¯ve not seen the dragonfire of old, Lord Bolton. Otherwise, you''d have taken the knee the moment you saw my dragon.¡±


    ¡°....¡±


    ¡°What you saw was wildfire, a failure of an alternative to dragon fire. Now imagine the real flames, except they burn for your cause. We''ll be allies, and we''ll end this war real fast. Imagine a few months from now, with the realm united under one crown, when winter comes but is salvaged by Tyrell¡¯s harvest, and the North thrives as an ally?¡±


    ¡°The Tyrells?¡±


    I smiled. ¡°Dorne and the Reach are already in alliance with me. What, you thought I didn¡¯t have an army? The 50 thousand dornishmen, and 100 thousand reachmen are ready. The Martells and the Tyrells are ready to come to my aid when I think the time is right,¡± I yanked out two envelopes from my Inventory and placed them before Robb. He took them, and a moment later, his eyes widened. He passed it through the other lords.


    A hush fell as the northern lords realized I wasn¡¯t here to beg but simply include them in an already grand war to come. Robb pressed his lips together, but Sansa ventured, voice trembling with conviction, ¡°He saved me, brother. He''s going to be a far better king than Joffrey, trust me. All my lord here, even if you don¡¯t trust a lady¡¯s word, think about it.. is it not better to be friends with the world''s sole dragon rider, than be enemies?¡±


    Robb¡¯s expression softened a fraction at her plea, then hardened once more as he scowled at me. ¡°Say we overthrow the Lannisters together. What becomes of House Stark? Of the North? The North crowned me King to break from Southern tyranny. Are we expected to kneel again?¡±


    I suppressed a faint smile at his bluntness. Good, a direct question. ¡°I have no desire to chain the North,¡± I said calmly. ¡°Stay King in the North if that¡¯s your people¡¯s will. Let them hail you as their sovereign, free from interference. Dorne has always been independent, even if we do say seven kingdoms in our saying. You don''t have to come under me. I''m not interested in the poor lands of the North. All I ask is your support for my rightful claim to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Let the south be mine¡ªand let the north remain yours.¡±


    A quiet murmur rippled through the lords. Catelyn¡¯s face flicked with both relief and alarm as if the notion of separate thrones felt impossible to her. Sansa exhaled, eyes darting between Robb and me.


    ¡°...And you expect us to trust that once you sit on the Iron Throne, you won¡¯t set your dragon upon us after all?¡± A moment later, Robb demanded, though the anger in his voice had cooled to a suspicious wariness.


    Alright, maybe he''s not dumb in politics. Just inexperienced. I inclined my head, placing my hands flat on the table in a show of candor. ¡°I won¡¯t deny our alliance will hinge on trust. But trust me, I realize how loyal the North is to House Stark. I''ve just seen that with my own eyes earlier,¡± I shot a glance at Lord Karstark. Then I let my eyes rest on Sansa briefly before looking back at Robb. ¡°Plus, there are ways to strengthen our alliance. I shall not speak of it now, but we can always consider it in the future.¡±


    Sansa blinked, and color covered her cheeks as she lowered her head. I ignored her. I didn''t have to approach House Stark with the marriage route, as I''d done with Tyrells. They''d help me regardless.


    As for what I said¡­ part of it was a lie.


    The Targaryen in me wouldn''t be satisfied unless I bring all the kingdoms to their knees.


    But yes, I wouldn¡¯t attack them with Viserion right after we win. Because when the Night King would come, the Northern Lords would beg me to save them. There''d be lots of opportunities to reclaim the North once I get the throne, and honestly, I truly wasn''t interested in claiming it now when it was right in the face of a zombie apocalypse


    For a moment, the tent was so silent that I could hear Viserion''s distant snort again, waiting outside. Robb seemed to weigh my words. Around him, the Northern lords shifted, unsure if they dared interrupt or speak.


    Finally, Robb looked over his lords. A silent conversion unfolded within their eyes as the lords nodded individually. Nobody, not even one, remained uncertain. Robb sighed and looked at his mother. She looked reluctant, her eyes full of grudges, but she nodded as she looked at Sansa.


    She must be having a hard time agreeing to all this, given her to-be husband had died to my father. I considered what the Mother Wolf must be feeling, while Rob made a decision.


    Robb turned to me and nodded once, curtly. ¡°As King in the North, I shall accept your alliance proposal, King Viserys.¡± His tone conveyed finality as he stood up and reached out a hand.


    I allowed myself a measured smile. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that,¡± I stood, taking his hand and shaking it. ¡°Let us talk terms, Wolf King, and carve a path forward without more needless bloodshed.¡±


    With that, the makeshift negotiation table stood ready for planning war strategies.


    **


    **


    **

 [48] That Ended Brilliantly

    Chapter 48: That Ended Brilliantly¡ª


    The meeting lasted for hours more. There was a lot to talk about, some agreements, some disagreements, and a toast at the very end.


    Now, I walked leisurely beside Robb Stark, feeling the change in the camp¡¯s atmosphere compared to my first arrival. The tension of strangers and suspicious glares had eased into polite nods and cautious greetings. People rose from their makeshift seats or paused in the midst of chores to glimpse at us as we passed.


    It wasn¡¯t as if they all knew about the alliance. As per my request, there was no official announcement for that, as I wanted to keep this low-key, but they still acted that way when seeing me walk beside their king. I didn¡¯t want everyone to know about Viserion.


    Considering we were inside a military camp and hundreds had already seen the dragon, that was a pointless worry. But still, better a few than everyone. Rumors will obviously spread, and I planned to ride the ghost stories until the end.


    The combined smell of horses, boiled stew, and damp canvas filled the camp, reminding me of any other battlefield camp but somehow less hostile than I¡¯d expected. Robb was a good military leader, that was for sure.


    Robb¡¯s voice was low as he gestured around. ¡°We¡¯ve done our best to keep everyone fed. Supplies are slim these days, but morale remains high. Could be better, but we¡¯re managing.¡± He caught my eye and added, almost apologetically, ¡°A war¡¯s no simple affair¡ªnor is feeding thousands of stomachs who can¡¯t forage because we¡¯re on the move.¡±


    I nodded, stepping around a pot where a cook stirred something that smelled of onions and too much salt. ¡°I¡¯ve seen worse, believe me. If the Dothraki can survive in the wild with barely any preparation, there¡¯s no way the King in the North will not. You¡¯re doing fine, King Stark. The men looked at ease when I flew over earlier.¡±


    He gave me a small, genuine smile. ¡°I suppose they think a dragon overhead either means sure victory or a quick death. Not much they can do but soldier on, can they?¡±


    ¡°It helps that your presence has won Sansa¡¯s freedom¡­ Your Grace.¡± Catelyn Stark walked over to her from somewhere, and Sansa walked beside her. She didn¡¯t seem comfortable saying those words, but despite her pride, she wanted to thank me for saving her daughter.


    The mother-daughter vanished halfway through the meeting, and from the looks of it, Sansa had taken a bath. They must have exchanged stories. From the redness around Sansa¡¯s eyes and the smile on her lips, she¡¯d brawled her eyes out and accepted that she was free. She was back home¡­! Even if it wasn¡¯t Winterfell, her family was right here.


    ¡°Brother,¡± Sansa came running, hugging Robb, while Lady Catelyn stared at me.


    ¡°The men see that as good faith on your part,¡± she said. ¡°A Targaryen saving a Stark princess¡ªperhaps old grudges can soften.¡±


    ¡°I do hope you believe in that statement of yours, Lady Stark,¡± I smiled. Sansa canceled the hug, exchanging words with Robb, but said nothing to me. I felt her warm presence nonetheless as she looked at me now and then. In the dim evening light, she looked relieved, for she was someone who had returned to a place of safety after a long nightmare. That quiet gratitude radiated from her as surely as any smile.


    After a few more minutes, we finally arrived at a board, a well-tended tent roosted near the edge of the encampment. A pair of northern guards stood watch, stepping aside promptly when Robb nodded at them.


    Robb lifted the flap and motioned me in, but Catelyn¡¯s clear voice cut the air. ¡°Your Grace, what about your dragon? Will it remain where it is?¡±


    ¡°Ah, don¡¯t worry about her,¡± I answered by putting two fingers to my lips and whistling, a clear, rising note that echoed across the camp. The camp seemed to scream for a moment as a titan roared. Within moments, a familiar shadow darted through the sky.


    Viserion swooped low, her golden scales flashing as she landed with a soft thump beside me. She let out a deep yawn, apparently unimpressed by the onlookers¡¯ startled gasps, and settled on her belly just outside the tent¡¯s entrance. I smiled, rubbing her head. An unspoken statement passed through us. No matter how foreign this land was, with her by my side, it was my territory. I couldn¡¯t resist a faint smirk at the sight of more than a few soldiers gulping nervously.


    ¡°There¡¯ll be no need for additional guards,¡± I looked at the two guarding the tent, making them hesitate. Robb just nodded at them, and they vanished.


    The King in the North grinned, patting me on the shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s certainly one way to keep unwanted visitors away,¡± he said, nodding at me. I could see he was trying to form a friendship, and I didn¡¯t hate it. I¡¯d admit most of my greatness came from the System, but this man was a fine leader on his own. He¡¯d make a good friend.


    ¡°That¡¯s the idea,¡± I agreed. ¡°No disrespect to the trust you have for your soldiers, but I¡¯ve had a few assassination attempts in my life. If anyone here carries a grudge for old Targaryen deeds, they¡¯ll think twice.¡±


    Catelyn nodded, but her expression tightened. ¡°I¡¯d rather not scare the common folk, but do as you will, Your Grace. If it protects this¡­ alliance from petty idiots, so be it.¡± She looked at Sansa and then her son. ¡°Robb, come¡ªthere¡¯s still the matter of distribution of rations we must finalize.¡±


    Robb frowned a little. From what I''ve heard, they probably haven¡¯t sorted out her crime of releasing Jamie Lannister yet. So it¡¯s a little awkward between them. He was just about to nod, but then Sansa spoke up. ¡°Mother¡­ would it be alright if I stayed with Viserys a bit longer? We¡­ we haven¡¯t really had time to speak alone.¡±


    I caught the momentary flicker in Robb¡¯s eyes. Just like his mother, Robb wasn¡¯t a fool. He could see that his sister felt more than just gratefulness toward me. But he didn¡¯t say anything opposing it. I¡¯d seen that healer girl in the camp earlier, the one he¡¯d marry in the coming future, so he likely understood exactly what Sansa felt¡ªhe¡¯d grown into a softer man.


    But his mother didn¡¯t share his reluctance. Lady Catelyn¡¯s face hardened as she shot her daughter a look. ¡°Firstly, you should refer to him as per his title. He¡¯s a King with the backing of three Kingdoms. And secondly, no. You¡ª¡±


    Sansa gave a short whine. ¡°Mother~, please.¡±


    ¡°Mother,¡± Robb said, ¡°they won¡¯t be meeting for a long while after this. He¡¯ll be leaving tomorrow morning. Let her express her gratitude at least.¡±


    ¡°...¡± Catelyn inhaled, pressing her lips together until they thinned. ¡°Fine,¡± she conceded after a tight pause. ¡°But be quick about it, Sansa. If you aren¡¯t back soon, I¡¯ll come to get you back myself.¡±


    She threw me a final warning glance, then turned and left with Robb at her side. Sansa exhaled slowly, relief washing over her face. She looked at me with a small, grateful smile. ¡°Shall we, then?¡± she asked, gesturing for us to enter.


    I smiled and pulled back the tent flap, allowing her inside.


    ****


    The interior was dimly lit with a single lamp dangling from the center pole and the floor layered with thick rugs. A low cot stood near the corner, neatly made but unremarkable. I supposed this was my ¡°guest¡± bed. Still, it was better than most soldier tents¡ªsomeone had gone through the trouble of setting up a table with a basin of water, a small pitcher of wine, and a loaf of dark bread.


    I set aside my sword belt by a simple wooden trunk, then turned to find Sansa hovering a step behind me as if uncertain of her place. I let out a soft laugh. ¡°No way, you first followed me inside and now act awkward. Couldn¡¯t leave my side, Wolf Princess?¡±


    ¡°What? No.¡± She wrinkled her nose in mock annoyance. ¡°Stop teasing me. You¡ª¡± She paused, a pink flush crossing her cheeks. ¡°You know I¡¯m just¡­ I¡¯m¡­ oh, argh, you¡¯re such a flirty mess. It won¡¯t end well as a King, you know? Even if you win the throne, what if you become like Robert Baratheon? He was fat and from eating all day and sleeping with prostitutes.¡±


    Her reaction made me chuckle. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re jealous I¡¯d do this to others.¡±


    ¡°No? You¡¯re crazy.¡±


    ¡°So says the silly girl who clung to my arms, pushing her body into my hold, the entire dragon ride here.¡± I slanted her a teasing look. ¡°Didn¡¯t I hear a small squeal of delight when Viserion swooped low over the river?¡±


    ¡°That was terror,¡± she insisted, a little too quickly. She frowned in annoyance and folded her arms. ¡°I thought I¡¯d fall off! You were taking advantage of me with your hands.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said, smirking. ¡°Sure I did.¡±


    She tried to glare, but it ended in a faint, sheepish grin. Sansa was cute. Innocent, unlike both Arianne Martell and Margaery Tyrell. I sat down on the edge of the bed, and Sansa remained standing, twisting the fabric of her gown at the hips. Her tension lingered in the air, so I patted the mattress beside me. ¡°What are you waiting for? Sit?¡± I offered softly.


    She moved as though to comply, but at the last moment, I seized her wrist and tugged her gently onto my lap. She let out a breathy gasp, her face going nearly scarlet. I slid my arms around her waist, settling her neatly. ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± I murmured, pressing my cheek briefly against her shoulder. A faint trace of lavender¡ªher soap or her perfume¡ªlingered there.


    Her body trembled slightly as she tried to collect herself. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ quite forward,¡± she mumbled, her tone half-indignant and half-embarrassed. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were like this when you were fighting the Hound.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sounds like you secretly like the variety of talents I have?¡± Her stammering fluster served as an answer enough. ¡°I have a lot more talents that we can explore together if you want¡­¡±


    She averted her gaze. ¡°My desire to be a Queen died long ago in King¡¯s Landing, Ser. You have better luck with someone else. I simply¡ª¡± She paused, the playful tone vanishing as she just exhaled. ¡°I¡¯m just grateful to be home, you know? With my family¡­ and¡­ and you. I suppose.¡± She looked back into my eyes, and I stared.


    The words caught me by surprise, a comfortable warmth spreading through me. Such a fine girl. Pity to think she¡¯d have been ruined into an emotionless stone if I hadn¡¯t saved her. ¡°Well,¡± I said, leaning in just enough that our eyes nearly met, ¡°I¡¯ll be leaving tomorrow, so I guess your happiness will be halved?¡±


    In that quiet moment, her breath hitched, ¡°No? Half is too much, more like one-fourth or maybe a bit more,¡± she giggled, and our faces drew close with sweet and uncertain tension. I closed my eyes, and she did the same. Our lips parted.


    Right at that moment, the wind flapped. A sudden commotion tore the moment apart. The tent flaps flew open, and Catelyn Stark stormed inside, eyes blazing with maternal fury. ¡°I knew this would happen!¡± she hissed.


    Sansa jolted upright from my lap, nearly tripping over her skirts, while I cleared my throat. ¡°Uh, hello, Lady Stark.¡±


    ¡°You dirty child,¡± she snapped, ignoring my words and rounding on Sansa, ¡°what do you think you¡¯re doing in a man¡¯s arms before marriage?! Have you no sense? No dignity?¡±


    ¡°M-Mother!¡± Sansa stammered, her face pale now instead of pink. ¡°It¡¯s not¡ª¡± sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Catelyn silenced her with a glare. ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough. You¡¯re coming with me, and we¡¯re going to have a talk about your behavior.¡±


    Her grip on Sansa¡¯s arm was firm, and though Sansa attempted a final protest, Catelyn swept her toward the exit. The older woman paused just long enough to fix me with a disapproving glower. Then they were gone, the tent flaps falling closed behind them.


    I sat there, taking on the faint trace of lavender that remained in the air. I glanced ruefully at the bed¡ªour near moment replaced by a wave of awkwardness.


    ¡°Well,¡± I murmured to the silence, sighing, ¡°that ended brilliantly.¡±


    A tired chuckle escaped me. My eyes drifted to the canvas roof, and I decided I¡¯d had enough drama for one day. So I kicked off my boots, let myself sprawl across the thin mattress, and closed my eyes.


    Within minutes, exhaustion claimed me, and I slipped into a much-needed sleep.


    **


    **


    **


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 [49] The Dragon’s Rescue

    Chapter 49: The Dragon''s Rescue¡ª


    It was morning now, and I was sitting on the edge of the bed with my sword on my lap as I polished it with a clean piece of cloth. A throaty rumble of Viserion gnawing on her breakfast¡ªsome poor sheep or what remained of it¡ªbrought me out of my focus as I looked up. A morning breeze rustled the camp¡¯s tents, carrying the savory-sour smell of churned mutton through the air.


    I locked the sword on my waist and walked out, stepping into the commotion that was a war camp. People stared at Viserion eating, their eyes full of awe, and I enjoyed it. I approached her, noticing what she was eating. It didn¡¯t look particularly appetizing, but my dragon enjoyed the raw, bloody feast nonetheless. Well, I say it¡¯s not particularly appetizing, but¡­ Somehow, I also felt hungry looking at it.


    This was not a good sign. Was I losing my rationality? Shaking my head, I patted her golden scales, feeling the tension in her body as she tore off another hunk of flesh. She probably wasn¡¯t hungry, she¡¯d feasted yesterday, but she clearly didn¡¯t mind eating more. I didn¡¯t mind; a well-fed dragon was safer for everyone involved.


    Yawning, I glanced around, observing the camp, the people, and the burning scent of meat. My eyes fell on a small entourage that had gathered in the clearing just beyond Viserion.


    Robb Stark stood at the forefront, with his mother and sister not far behind. The older woman¡¯s stance was prim and guarded. A few of the important northern lords flanked them, recognizable from the night¡¯s extended meeting¡ªsome with bandaged arms, others with stern, soldierly faces. A cluster of men in thick cloaks lingered at the edge, curious but respectful.


    ¡°You¡¯re up early, Your Grace,¡± Robb said, stepping closer. His hair was tousled in the morning sun, and though he tried for a neutral expression, he looked curious. ¡°We¡¯ve prepared a feast for you. Well, as much as we can prepare in a war camp.¡±


    I shrugged lightly. ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary. I plan to leave soon. Well, as soon as she¡¯s done,¡± I replied, nodding toward Viserion¡¯s current meal. ¡°She¡¯ll be full enough to fly without complaining.¡±


    Behind Robb, I spotted Sansa and Lady Catelyn. Sansa¡¯s gaze was downcast, her lips pressed in a wistful line. I guessed she was sad to see me depart; no surprises there, considering the closeness we¡¯d developed in such a short time. But her mother¡¯s expression was as formidable as ever¡ªdoubtful, protective, and appraising.


    Nearby lords looked on with polite interest or mild curiosity as Robb cleared his throat, sighing. ¡°A pity. But I¡¯m sure the soldiers will enjoy the food.¡±


    I laughed, ¡°That they will. And just call me by name. It doesn''t matter even if people are around, Robb. Fellow Kings should have that much liberty. Plus, we¡¯re friends, right?¡±


    He smiled. ¡°Of course. You saved my sister, so we certainly are. I appreciate everything you¡¯ve done, Viserys. Last night¡¯s talk ended on a good note, and your promises made us look forward to the coming months. My lords are grateful, and we¡¯ll be waiting for when you call.¡± His voice lowered. ¡°Once you ride out, I trust you¡¯ll send word when the time is ripe? I¡¯ll lead my army into King¡¯s Landing then.¡±


    I offered him a firm nod, smiling. ¡°Count on it. I¡¯ll send a raven when the right moment comes. By then, Viserion should also be large enough to cast a real shadow of fear over King¡¯s Landing. So don¡¯t be late to the game, otherwise I¡¯ll enjoy it all by myself.¡±


    He chuckled genuinely. ¡°I look forward to that.¡± Then his gaze flicked to Viserion. The dragon had, by now, devoured the better part of the sheep. Gore stained the grass and her jaws. Still, the sight didn¡¯t seem to unnerve Robb as much as it might have a day earlier.


    I¡¯d say this was a pretty good visit. We made decent strides in bridging old animosities. The Starks and Targaryens were historically enemies, yet here we stood¡ªalmost real allies. Mutual respect was a pleasant change from Doran Martell¡¯s doubt to Olenna Tyrell¡¯s desire to take advantage of me.


    By this time, Viserion let out a quiet huff, flapping her wings in a lazy stretch. Satisfied, apparently. I took that as my cue to mount. With one swift motion, I approached her side and laid a hand against the scaled curve of her neck. She grumbled softly but didn¡¯t protest as I hoisted myself onto her back.


    The northern lords stiffened, shifting uneasily at the prospect of me taking flight right before them. Perhaps instinctually, they feared what I could do on top of dragon''s back, away from their attacks, and a weapon of mass destruction under my command.


    ¡°Alright then,¡± I said, patting Viserion. ¡°We¡¯ll see¨C¡± Before I could finish my goodbyes, Sansa stepped forward, desperation on her face that hadn¡¯t been there a moment before.


    ¡°Viserys!¡± she called, her voice almost cracking. Then she caught herself, remembering protocol. ¡°A-ah, I mean, Your Grace¡­ please, before you go, I¡ª I have one last favor to ask.¡± She stammered, making the lords exchange looks.


    Her tone made me pause. Even from my vantage on Viserion¡¯s back, I could see the guilt and fear shining in her eyes. Robb scowled, and Lady Catelyn let out a sigh. Whatever Sansa was about to say clearly wasn¡¯t new to the rest of her family.


    ¡°Speak up,¡± I told her. ¡°If there¡¯s something important, I¡¯d rather not leave with regrets.¡±


    Sansa swallowed, her voice trembling. ¡°Well¡­ Last night, after I finally felt relief being free, I found out some terrible news that my mother was hiding to spare me more sorrow. It¡¯s about my younger brothers, Bran and Rickon. Theon Greyjoy¡­ the imbecile that House Stark raised, has taken Winterfell. My brothers are in his custody.¡± Her lips quivered. ¡°Please, help us. Save my brothers. Save Winterfell from that traitor!¡±


    The gathered men fell silent, and even the soldiers nearby watched the scene. I detected a note of dismay on Robb¡¯s face. He quickly recovered, turning to Sansa with a placating gesture. ¡°We¡¯ve already sent men to handle it, Sansa. Lord Bolton dispatched his bastard son to reclaim Winterfell. Just give it some time. Viserys is a guest¡ªan ally, yes¡ªbut we can¡¯t impose on him like this.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s the Ironborn,¡± Lady Catelyn cut in sharply, fists clenched. This time, she was on her daughter¡¯s side. ¡°I told you Robb, but you didn¡¯t listen. Theon grew up with you and then betrayed you. Imagine what those who grew up in the Iron Islands are like. Who¡¯s to say they¡¯ll spare hostages?! We can¡¯t risk delaying. If those filthy men hurt Bran or Rickon, then¡­. I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Robb exhaled, clearly torn. I hummed momentarily and lightly tapped my fingers on Viserion¡¯s scales. ¡°Your mother is right, Robb. The Ironborn are infamous for cruelty. And we¡¯re allies now, friends, even. Seeing you¡­ especially Sansa¡­ lose her precious brothers would pain me as well.¡± I said and watched Sansa¡¯s eyes widen in surprise. ¡°And it¡¯s not as if I¡¯m in a hurry to return to King¡¯s Landing. So, I can head north and teach the Ironborn men a lesson.¡±


    Sansa brightened, hope lighting her face. ¡°Then¡ªthen I¡¯m coming with you!¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not,¡± Catelyn barked, whirling on her daughter with a glare that would¡¯ve withered lesser souls. ¡°I won¡¯t allow such madness. You¡¯re to stay here, with me, and with your brother who¡¯ll keep you safe.¡±


    Robb placed a hand on his mother¡¯s shoulder. ¡°...Mother, please. Sansa has endured so much. And honestly, perhaps she¡¯s more safe with Viserys. He¡¯s on top of a dragon, as you can see. Plus, a Stark needs to go with him to Winterfell. The people of the North would tremble in fear otherwise if they saw a dragon riding Targaryen circle their sky. With Sansa there, they¡¯ll see the alliance is real. Besides, we can¡¯t spare the time or resources to ferry Sansa back here if¡ª¡±


    Catelyn¡¯s expression colored with anger, but Robb pressed on. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that look, mother. Let¡¯s not pretend any of us here forgot what you did. You still haven¡¯t received a verdict for releasing Jaime Lannister. If not, I¡¯d have requested Viserys to take you back to Winterfell, as well. So just stay quiet, and trust that Sansa will be safe with Viserys.¡±


    She opened her mouth, clearly wishing to object further, but words failed her. Her eyes flicked from Sansa¡¯s pleading expression to me, perched on Viserion, and she let out a frustrated breath. ¡°Fine,¡± she said at last, voice cold. ¡°But if any harm befalls my daughter¡ª¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t,¡± I assured her, my tone calm and confident. ¡°I delivered her safely. How can I let her be harmed when you¡¯re trusting her with me willingly? Fear not, she¡¯ll come to no harm under my watch.¡±


    Robb stepped closer, offering me a respectful nod. ¡°Thank you. friend. Keep her safe, and I trust you¡¯ll do whatever you must to free our brothers. Theon¡­ Theon was once my friend, but that friendship is dead now. He chose his path.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± I murmured. ¡°We¡¯ll leave at once.¡±


    Sansa wasted no time. She ran forward, hands delicately resting on Viserion¡¯s golden flank, searching for a foothold. The dragon let out a soft grunt¡ªwhether annoyance or mere acknowledgment, I couldn¡¯t be sure¡ªbut didn¡¯t flinch as Sansa clambered up in front of me. The watchers stared, breath held, as she settled onto the dragon¡¯s back.


    They watched as a Stark climbed onto dragon back.


    I offered one last glance at the Starks. Robb raised a hand in silent thanks. Catelyn stood taut, arms folded, eyes brimming with worry. The northern lords surrounding them exchanged awed whispers.


    Then Viserion spread her wings, stirring gusts of dust and hay in the clearing. Sansa gave a final wave, her hair tumbling in the breeze.


    And then we lifted off. Viserion launched herself into the bright morning sky, hoisting us clear of the camp, the men below shrinking to antlike shapes. A swirl of cold air rushed against my cheeks, and Sansa let out a soft gasp, I tightened my verdict around her waist, making her relax. Over the roar of the wind, I heard the distant cheers, the murmurs, and the faint clang of steel as the world fell away beneath us.


    We soared northward, the horizon wide open. My mind raced, plans for subduing Theon Greyjoy, and perhaps his father, for winning over the North, for everything that might follow if my rescue mission succeeded.


    ¡°Hang on,¡± I whispered to Sansa¡¯s ears. ¡°The real ride begins now.¡± Each time Viserion flapped her wings, I felt one step deeper into the game of thrones.


    **


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    **

 [50] Reclaim Winterfell?

    Chapter 50: Reclaim Winterfell?¡ª


    The wind whistled against my face as Viserion¡¯s wings carved through the air, her flaps a deep, steady rhythm that carried us. The sun angled low on the horizon, tinting the sky with a soft gold that cast our shadows far across the rolling landscape.


    House Reed¡¯s seat, the Neck, stretched out below. It was a patchwork of marshes, green wetlands, and narrow causeways threading through boggy water. I observed the land in a light of wonder. From this height, it looked peaceful, almost serene, an emerald painting speckled with streams of sparkling water.


    Sansa sat snugly before me, my arms lightly circling her waist. ¡°Sansa, take a look,¡± I nudged her, and she flinched. She¡¯d been dazed.


    ¡°Y-yes,¡± she said, clearing her throat and looking around, ¡°it¡¯s pretty¡­¡± She wasn¡¯t in her right mind, her heart full of worry, that much was obvious from her voice. That was why I hadn¡¯t tried anything with her yet.


    My chin moved to rest on her shoulder, the curve of her cheek close enough that I caught a faint whiff of lavender or whatever perfume lingered in her hair. Her breath hitched as I murmured, ¡°Why¡¯re you so worried? Your brothers will be fine.¡±


    The tension in her posture melted ever so slightly, and she let out a small, muffled sound¡ªhalf relief, half uncertainty. ¡°I hope so,¡± she whispered.


    The gust of wind and the rush of Viserion¡¯s flight finally soothed over her, and her body relaxed. She leaned back into me slowly, her posture soothing against my chest. I tightened my hold, giving her what reassurance I could through the warmth of our shared closeness.


    Far below, a broad river twisted through the Neck¡¯s muddy banks, while above us, the sky opened wide as if welcoming our journey north. This journey would take longer than our earlier one, but we¡¯d enjoy it. We soared onward, the damp wind carrying us onward to Winterfell and whatever awaited us there.


    ****


    Maester Luwin stood in the corridor outside the Great Hall of Winterfell. He¡¯d been serving House Stark for decades, but after a long time, he recalled that time when he¡¯d come to Winterfell for the first time, seeing its thousand-year-old stones that looked dark and oppressive even during the day.


    Today, he felt the same. This place felt foreign to him. He paused, knuckles hovering an inch from the oak door, before breathing out a sigh and rapping softly. A muffled sound from inside¡ªfurniture scraping, footsteps¡ªthen the door swung open to reveal a guard¡¯s stern face. ¡°Come in,¡± the man stepped aside, allowing the Maester to pass.


    Maester Luwin walked inside. On the second floor, he found Theon Greyjoy slumped on the lord¡¯s chair, making him pause. Theon had tried to fashion himself a makeshift ruler, but the posture looked more like a child playing King than anything. He kept glancing at the window, watching the wall gates. On the other side of that wall, although it wasn¡¯t visible from here, two small forms were wrapped in cloth, a burnt stench clinging to the air. The sunlight highlighted the hollows under Theon¡¯s eyes as he stared at it.


    So he does feel guilt for what he did, I see. Maester Luwin noted and bowed his head, entering with cautious steps. ¡°...My lord,¡± he murmured, voice collected but devoid of approval. ¡°You called for me?¡±


    Theon barely spared him a glance, drumming his fingers on the armrest. ¡°You don¡¯t sound pleased calling me that,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯m no lord¡ªjust a Greyjoy bastard in a den of wolves. Right?¡± His tone was full of challenge.


    One would think he knows his place, but he just wants me to admit it for him. Hah¡­ I never realized how pathetic this boy is. Luwin controlled his emotions and cleared his throat gently. ¡°You hold Winterfell now, doesn''t matter if it''s by force. You are, for now, its master. And as the Maester assigned to Winterfell, I¡¯m at your command.¡±


    Theon stared at him, and then his gaze shifted to the wall gates again, imagining the churned remains of the children. His knuckles tightened around the armrest. ¡°They¡¯re saying I went too far, Maester Luwin,¡± he said, barely containing his anger. ¡°I called to ask¡­ Do you agree with them?


    A flicker of anger crossed Luwin¡¯s face, despite his years of training, but he quickly hid it. ¡°Those boys this morning¡­ the ones you burned¡­¡± He lowered his voice, choosing each word with care. ¡°They¡¯re not Bran and Rickon, are they?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°No matter how poisoned your mind has been in desperation for power, I doubt you¡¯d do that, Theon- my lord. They were practically your brothers. Tell me, was it truly them?¡± He asked, and in response, Theon went silent. ¡°...Either way, the cruelty only begets resentment. It won¡¯t earn you the fear you crave¡ªonly hatred. Why¡¯re you surprised?¡±


    Theon snorted, pushing himself upright in the chair. ¡°I don¡¯t expect them to love me!¡± he snapped. ¡°I took Winterfell because it was there for the taking. If it means burning some brats to assert authority, so be it.¡± The way he spoke of the boys implied it wasn¡¯t the Stark boys, but he glared at Luwin as if daring him to ask about that again. ¡°I know what I did, but that¡¯s my decision. I don¡¯t care. Let Robb choke on that news for a while. My sister will arrive with her army soon, and we¡¯ll hold Winterfell with everything, no matter if Robb comes to reclaim it himself.¡±


    A short silence passed between them, and Luwin shook his head, sadness lining every crease in his brow. ¡°Your father¡¯s men might do worse when they come,¡± he said softly. ¡°And the men here¡ªyour men¡ªare unsettled, Theon. Many of them left the Iron Islands to plunder, not to keep a castle. They grow bored, and they take out their boredom on the townsfolk. The townsfolk you grew up with. Do you really want this?¡±


    Luwin wondered if the boy would get mad at being called by his name rather than title, as he¡¯d been a day before, but Theon¡¯s gaze only flickered across the wall gates. A flicker of something that might have been regret flashed before his eyes and then vanished.


    He raked a hand through his disheveled hair. ¡°They¡­ they¡¯ll learn their place. My sister is a woman and has no claim to the Salt Throne when the male heir is alive. I¡¯ll win over my men soon enough, I just need some time. And you¡ª¡± He fixed the Maester with a wavering glare. ¡°Just remember who¡¯s in charge, old man, you¡¯re talking a lot of shit. Just in case, if you think to help those, I despise¡­ I won¡¯t be so forgiving.¡±


    Those he despises? Does that mean he truly didn¡¯t kill Bran and Rickon and fears I¡¯m aiding them? Luwin noted, calculating, feeling relieved, and then sighed. ¡°Of course, my Lord. I have always served Winterfell,¡± he replied evenly. ¡°And while I breathe, I will do what I can to protect it.¡±


    Theon just looked at him. A moment later, he opened his mouth, but before he could respond, a distant screech rang out through the stone corridors. It was an unnatural, resonant, and chilling sound that rattled the bones of every living being.


    Maester Luwin¡¯s eyes widened with alarm. ¡°Gods be good, what the hell was that?!¡±


    Theon jerked upright, his head snapping toward the high windows that lined the hall. But this time, rather than looking at the gates, he looked at the sky where the sound had come from. His heartbeat thundered as he realized how foreign and bestial the sound was.


    ¡°What¡­ what kind of beast can make that kind of sound, Maester Luwin?¡± Theon turned to the wise man and asked, but he already knew. He¡¯d heard the stories. They exchanged one glance and then rushed toward the nearest window.


    Theon fumbled at the heavy shutters, throwing them open fully. The sunlight spilled into the hall, and they both leaned out, their breath catching in their throats.


    Against the bright expanse of sky, a huge, winged silhouette sliced through the air. Golden scales glimmered under the midday sun, and it let out another piercing cry.


    In that single moment, Theon felt his grip on Winterfell slip further.


    ****


    I angled Viserion in a slow, spiraling descent above Winterfell¡¯s outer walls. A gust of cold air whipped at my hair, and the familiar rush of being airborne kept my blood humming. Below, I saw broken battlements and scorched patches¡ªclear signs that Theon¡¯s Ironborn had made a mess of this place.


    Sansa was pressed tight against me, her breaths short and quick as the ancient fortress unfurled in our view. ¡°Are you alright?¡± I asked, speaking just loud enough for her to hear over the whoosh of wind.


    She nodded, though I felt her body tremble. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ seeing home from above.¡± She swallowed. ¡°I¡¯ve never¡­ well, I never imagined Winterfell like this¡ªfrom a dragon¡¯s back. It¡¯s breathtaking and terrifying. But I¡¯m also relieved to see my home. Let¡¯s head down.¡±


    I guided Viserion into another circle around the courtyard below, searching for the Ironborn. My sharp Valyrian eyes helped me see better. ¡°I see a few men in those corners¡ªhard to tell if they¡¯re your people or not. Where should we touch down?¡±


    Sansa straightened a bit, her gaze darting frantically across the courtyard. ¡°There!¡± She pointed at a stone-walled section near the broken gatehouse, where a group of armed men milled about, wearing rough leather and mismatched steel. Their attire was nothing like the Northmen¡¯s furs or Stark sigils.


    A slow smile curled on my lips. ¡°They¡¯re no Northerners, that¡¯s for sure.¡± I leaned forward, tightening my arm around her waist. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s pay them a visit.¡± S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Viserion responded to a slight shift in my posture. She tucked her wings and descended, dropping into the courtyard with a powerful air backwash. The men below staggered, bracing themselves against the sudden gust and screech. Spears clattered on stone.


    ¡°What the fuck is that¡ª!¡±


    ¡°Did I drink too much ale?¡±


    I kept a firm hold on Sansa as Viserion¡¯s back legs touched down. She shrieked fiercely and loudly, and the Ironborn scattered in alarm, half of them rolling on the ground. They were screaming at me, eyes full of terror, but I ignored them.


    Still mounted atop the dragon, I squeezed Sansa¡¯s waist in a reassuring gesture. ¡°Now,¡± I said calmly, ¡°tell me which ones you want dead.¡±


    Sansa¡¯s breath hitched. She hesitated momentarily, turning to look at my face. Then she pointed with trembling fingers at the men she recognized as foreigners. ¡°Those few,¡± she whispered. ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know them. They aren¡¯t from my home.¡± And they were wearing Ironborn armor, but Sansa didn¡¯t seem to notice that.


    ¡°Good enough for me.¡± I lifted my head and raised my voice. ¡°Dracarys!¡±


    Flames erupted from Viserion¡¯s jaws. The roar of the dragon¡¯s fire drowned out the Ironborn¡¯s horrified cries. The next sight was something to see. Their pleas for mercy caught in the inferno, and the entire area heated up. The men were consumed within seconds¡ªembers and ash swirling in the wind. The stench of charred flesh burned my nose, but I welcomed the flush of triumph.


    ¡°Pity they died too quickly. That should have been most of them, but some more should be around the area. Let me speak, Sansa,¡± I murmured, swinging my leg over the saddle to stand upright on Viserion¡¯s back.


    I raised my voice for the Northern folk who peered out from doors and behind ruined walls. ¡°People of Winterfell! I am Viserys Targaryen, the rightful heir of the Iron Throne. I know you must be confused, but fear not, I come as your ally. I¡¯ve come to free you from these Ironborn cunts as you just saw. Spread out now, search every corridor and cranny for any Ironborn still skulking about. Bring them here alive, preferably. I have¡­ plans for them. For Winterfell!¡±


    A wave of confusion rippled through the ragged onlookers. Most had never seen a dragon in their lifetimes, and the ¡®Targaryen¡¯ name meant enemy. Shock gripped them.


    But then Sansa steadied herself, shakily standing atop Viserion. I held her to stop her from falling, and she spoke out in a shaky but resolute voice. ¡°Everyone, he¡¯s not lying. You know me, I am Sansa Stark,¡± she called, forcing her chin up. ¡°Daughter of Eddard Stark! Listen to Viserys¡ªhe¡¯s here to help us, to save Winterfell. My brother, the King in the North, sent him here!¡±


    That rallied them. They truly trusted a Stark with their lives. A murmur of awe passed through the crowd, turning into a ragged cheer. Men and women scrambled off, armed with whatever they could find, determined to flush out any remaining Ironborn.


    My gaze followed them to the gates until I heard a sound coming from the opposite direction. The castle. A lone figure strode out from the castle door¡ªTheon Greyjoy.


    He wore no helmet, unprepared for battle, and I spotted fresh burns on his hands. Speaking of, I noticed two churned bodies hanging from the gate earlier. Sansa hadn¡¯t, and I didn¡¯t bother to notify her about it. Looks like he already killed two innocent boys.


    ¡°Theon Greyjoy,¡± I called out loud, and Sansa¡¯s head snapped to look at him. The puny Ironborn filth looked at me in shock and stumbled on seeing the blackened remains of his men, half crouching as if the sight physically wounded him.


    Pale fury etched across his features. ¡°You¡ªbastard Targaryen!¡± he spat, voice tinged with trembling anger or fear. He bit his lip when he saw the dragon I rode, but then he met my eyes again. ¡°I- I don¡¯t care who you are, but who gave you the right to¡ª¡±


    I felt Sansa tremble in rage at the sound of his voice. She pointed a finger, her eyes alight with hatred. ¡°He betrayed my family. Kill him too, Viserion!¡±


    Nah, that won¡¯t do. Viserion of course didn¡¯t listen. She was my dragon, not this Stark¡¯s. I leaned in, ¡°Hey,¡± I held her chin and turned it toward me. She looked surprised, but I brushed a light kiss on her nose. ¡°Calm down, he¡¯s no danger to us. He¡¯s more valuable alive,¡± I murmured. That said, he did deserve punishment.


    Without further warning, I let go of Sansa and hopped down from Viserion¡¯s back, rising high, boots hitting the courtyard in a puff of dust. Theon was surprised seeing how high I¡¯d jumped, and tried to step back, raising a sword to but I didn¡¯t give him the chance.


    I closed the distance between us, seized him by the collar, and slammed my fist into his face. ¡°Argh!¡± Theon shouted, but it was cut off half-way through as his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed on the spot, unconscious. A few curious bystanders gawked, uncertain whether to cheer or flee.


    ¡°Welcome to a new day, Theon Greyjoy,¡± I said, although he couldn¡¯y hear. ¡°You¡¯ll get what you deserve soon enough.¡±


    Behind him, Maester Luwin stood at the castle entrance, eyes huge with disbelief as they fixed on my dragon. He barely spared a glance at me or Sansa. The Maester was in awe seeing a living dragon, a creature from the pages of history.


    Before I could say more, a rush of movement caught my eye. Two small forms darted forward from behind a collapsed section of the yard. I almost moved toward Sansa to protect her, but I recognized them as Bran and Rickon Stark, accompanied by a lanky, wild-looking woman ¨C Osha, if I recall ¨C and a hulking man carrying Bran in his arms.


    Ah. They must have been hiding in the crypt, from what I remember, The boys¡¯ eyes were wide, scanning the courtyard. Then they saw Sansa perched on the dragon as they froze.


    ¡°Sansa! I knew that was your voice!¡± Bran called, voice cracking with relief. The younger one, Rickon, wasted no time and ran for his sister.


    Sansa leaped off the saddle, stumbling a bit but ignoring any sense of decorum as she raced to meet them. She enveloped both in a hug, tears shining in her eyes. I smiled.


    A rescue mission? That didn¡¯t take long. Most of the delay was because of the flight. And in a single, brutal encounter, we razed the Ironborn¡¯s threat to cinders, found the Stark boys safe, and seized a living prisoner in Theon Greyjoy. The courtyard quieted except for Sansa¡¯s choked sobs of joy.


    Above us, Viserion lifted her head and roared to the sky, sealing the fact that Winterfell, at least for now, belonged to the dragon¡ªand the wolves¡ªonce again.


    Winterfell was reclaimed.


    [Image Here]


    **


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    **


    Author Note: Chapter 50! And we already took Winterfell. It¡¯s been fun to write this so far, and I think I¡¯ll be having fun till the very end. Many thanks to @Glassy, and as always, homeboy @Shortmotor, for proofreading all these chapters so far.


    Come find fellow fans on Discord and more chapters on Patreon!


    Patreon: Patreon.com/Master4thWall


    Discord: .gg/dQeu27jBvf

 [51] Promise of a Good Show

    Chapter 51: Promise of a Good Show¡ª


    I found myself standing in what had once been an old storage chamber under the Great Keep. It was a dark, cramped room lit by a single flickering torch. Shadows flickered across the stone walls, revealing cracks and chipped mortar that spoke of Winterfell¡¯s age. This place was over 8,000 years old, after all.


    I felt the cool underground air steady my thoughts as my lungs were filled with them. I was mostly done, except for this.


    I had spent most of the morning settling the unrest. After Sansa reunited with Bran and Rickon, the people of the North went hunting for the remaining Ironborn. No shortage of them tried to hide in the corners and cellars of Winterfell, but all were found. Unlike my initial plan, I had them executed. What use were they, after all, if Theon Greyjoy was already in my hands?


    Sansa had stood with me as I addressed Winterfell¡¯s surviving folk. With her calm, resolute presence, the crowd settled, and we promised to hold the castle until proper order could be restored. A few questioned having a Targaryen in charge, but Sansa vouched for me, so they begrudgingly bowed their heads. I loved my wolf pup already.


    No doubt some would remain wary, but I wouldn¡¯t expect otherwise. For now, peace was held by a thread.


    And that led me here, inside this dim corridor, facing Theon Greyjoy.


    ¡°Can''t believe he''s still unconscious in a situation like this,¡± I said, taking a look at him.


    The fool was bound to a wooden chair, wrists tied behind him with rope thick enough to restrain a direwolf. He¡¯d been unconscious when we dragged him down. Blood crusted near his temple where I¡¯d struck him earlier, and his mouth hung slightly open, shallow breaths escaping.


    I stood near his shoulder, Sansa close by my side. She stared at him, her expression one of anger and disappointment¡ªperhaps betrayal. Although the last one had lost its edge by now. They¡¯d grown up together once upon a time, so she felt betrayed, but she''d already come to accept that.


    ¡°What are we going to do with him?¡± Sansa asked, and I gestured my chin at her.


    I approached the chair. My footsteps filled the hollow halls. I placed a hand on his shoulders and jerked him slightly. ¡°Wake up, Greyjoy.¡±


    Slowly, Theon¡¯s eyelids fluttered. A low groan came from his throat. He shifted, then jerked upright, blinking furiously as he realized his predicament. Panic flashed across his face; his gaze darted around the dark room until it settled on us.


    ¡°You¡ª¡± he rasped, voice scratchy. His eyes trembled when he recognized me. ¡°This must be a bad nightmare. Yes. A Targaryen in Winterfell¡­ a dragon¡­ all that can¡¯t be right.¡±


    I let out a low, humorless laugh. ¡°Are you truly that surprised, Greyjoy? It¡¯s been an interesting turn of events, but it''s not a dream.¡±


    He flicked his gaze to Sansa, and some sort of desperate cunning lit in his eyes. ¡°Sansa¡ªlisten to me,¡± he said, tone cracking into a plea. ¡°This man¡­ He can¡¯t be trusted. He¡¯s just using you and your family. Targaryens have always¡ª¡±


    I laughed, which cut off his words. ¡°Look at this guy,¡± I said and slipped behind Sansa, sliding my arms around her waist. She stiffened at the public display, but she didn¡¯t pull away. My chin rested on her shoulder, and she let out a shaky breath. ¡°He thinks he can turn you against me,¡± I said, amused. ¡°Isn''t that funny, my dear?¡±


    Theon¡¯s face twisted. ¡°W-What are you doing to her?!¡± he demanded, voice brimming with alarm.


    Sansa managed a small squeak, turning her head slightly to look at me. ¡°We¡¯re¡ª hey, someone is right in front of us¡ª¡±


    ¡°And?¡± I gently turned her chin to face me better, ignoring Theon¡¯s sputtering. ¡°Why should humans care if a dog sees them mate?¡± Her eyes widened, and my lips met hers in a deliberate, unhurried kiss. She melted against me with a stifled moan.


    ¡°Mhm¡­¡± It was our first true kiss, more than a quick brush of lips on cheek, and the sensation of her warmth, the press of her body, flickered through me with satisfying heat. My hands tightened around her waist, feeling the heat of her flesh.


    For a moment, it was as if Theon and the rest of the world ceased to exist.


    She wiggled, pushing herself into me, her body craving my kiss. At one point, she started liking this. She started liking showing this side of her to the dog.


    When the kiss broke, I kept my forehead lightly against hers, savoring her breath. ¡°Your lips are delicious, Sansa.¡±


    Theon let out a low growl. ¡°You¡­ you bastard¡ª¡±


    I returned my attention to him with a sly smirk. In the books, I heard that Theon dreamed of marrying Sansa. He must be losing his night right now. That¡¯s when I noticed something else about him¡ªan uncomfortable bulge in his trousers.


    ¡°Oh¡­?¡± I said with mocking sympathy. ¡°Look at him. This Ironborn pig definitely had his eyes on you, Sansa, from the day he was a ward here. Look at that little tent. What a weird bastard. And you Stark kids considered him a brother.¡±


    Sansa stiffened, then scowled in Theon¡¯s direction. ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re so disgusting! Even this aside, you killed two poor farm boys,¡± she snapped. ¡°You loser, you piece of shit¡­ You betrayed my family, Theon! My father believed in you¡ªRobb believed in you. We all trusted you!¡±


    Theon¡¯s face twitched, shame warring with anger. ¡°At least¡­ at least they weren¡¯t¡ª¡± He swallowed. ¡°Bran and Rickon. You should be grateful that I didn''t kill your brothers!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Sansa was stunned.


    I moved in a blur, my fist cracking across his cheek. Theon shouted in pain, head snapping to the side. ¡°You speak like that in front of me one more time, Greyjoy, and you will never speak again. Whether they were Stark boys or not, you still murdered innocent children. You¡¯re in no place to defend yourself, or bait rage from Sansa.¡±


    He glared back, bloody lips curling up in a sneer. ¡°You¡¯ll pay for this, lizard,¡± he spat, the corner of his mouth bleeding. ¡°My sister, she¡¯ll come for me. She''s already been travelling for a while now. Asha is not like me, she¡¯s stronger, and her Ironborn men are¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ah. Asha, is it?¡± I mused aloud, stepping beside Sansa once more. My hands drifted along her waist, drawing a small whimper from her. ¡°Good. That¡¯s what I needed to know. That''s why I came to you. How nice of you to tell me about the Ironborn¡¯s next plans so easily. Very good. But Theon, do you really expect your sister to defeat my dragon?¡±


    He froze, realizing he¡¯d just handed me a vital piece of intelligence. Anger flared in his eyes, but no words came.


    Smiling, I leaned into Sansa¡¯s ear. ¡°You should go, baby,¡± I murmured. ¡°Let me finish with him. We don¡¯t want you to see things you¡¯d regret.¡±


    She swallowed, color high on her cheeks. ¡°I¡­ Fine,¡± she said softly, glancing at his bound form one last time before stepping away from me. The door creaked as she left, leaving only me and the prisoner, along with the quiet drip of water from somewhere in the darkness.


    I watched her retreating figure for a heartbeat, savoring that bright red flush across her face, and the sway of her full hips. I loved that she was already an adult in this world, it was much better to look at.


    I turned to Theon, who glared defiantly despite the ropes biting into his wrists. ¡°Now that we''re alone¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡­ what will you do to me?¡±


    ¡°Oh no, don''t get me wrong. I didn''t send her away to torture you. I just want to tell you something that I can''t in front of her,¡± I smiled.


    ¡°...What is it?¡±


    ¡°Let your sister come,¡± I said lightly. ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting for this Asha. And you, Theon,¡± I laughed, stepping closer, letting him see the glint in my eyes. ¡°Since you like to watch so much, you¡¯ll have a front-row seat to the show. To what I''ll do to your dear, strong, sister.¡±


    Theon''s lips pressed into a thin line, fear, frustration and dread visible in the set of his jaw.


    I ran a hand over the stubble of his scalp in a mock-pitying gesture. This was fun. ¡°Just be patient,¡± I told him. Then, with that, I spun and strode out of the room, leaving Theon alone in the darkness to seethe.


    Outside, the torchlit corridor smelled faintly of old stone and dust. I paused, collecting my thoughts, already forming new plans for dealing with Asha Greyjoy.


    ¡°Hey, you''re out¡­¡± Sansa was waiting, flustered by our little display earlier. A smile touched my lips.


    One more loose end to tie up. Admittedly, I should deal with Sansa properly before Asha¡¯s Ironborn forces came.


    **


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    S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 [52] What a Disappointment

    Chapter 52: What a Disappointment¡ª


    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re out¡­¡± she said, a trace of nerves lacing her words.


    The dark stones of Winterfell flickered with torchlit stones that felt deceptively peaceful after the day¡¯s turmoil. Each gust of night air carried the faint scent of ash and old dust¡ªremnants of the Ironborn¡¯s short-lived occupation.


    I offered her a small, warm smile. ¡°Why the long face?¡±


    Despite my success in stabilizing the castle and learning the Ironborn¡¯s next moves, there was much yet to do, and I had one more task tonight.


    Sansa''s cheeks bore a soft redness, and I could sense some tension in the air. She caught my eye and cleared her throat, a memory of our earlier display before Theon¡¯s eyes still evident in her posture.


    ¡°Long face? No, I was just thinking about some things¡­¡± she said. She didn''t look like she minded our earlier actions.


    ¡°I see,¡± I looked up at the darkening sky. Night was here. ¡°Let¡¯s go somewhere private, Sansa. We need to talk.¡±


    Her gaze flickered with curiosity and perhaps a flicker of worry. She nodded, guiding me along the corridor.


    We passed a scattering of northern guards who quickly averted their eyes; the news of a Targaryen commandeering Winterfell was received with mixed feelings. Nobody showed disrespect to me since I did kill the Ironborn, but they weren''t very welcoming either.


    Our footsteps were the only sound that exchanged between us. The torches lining the walls cast shadows that seemed to shrink away from us as we went, and I could feel Sansa¡¯s closeness as she walked just ahead of me. Her red hair caught occasional glimmers from the flames.


    Sansa came to a stop before a sturdy oak door. ¡°This,¡± she cleared her throat, ¡°this is my room. Come in,¡± she said softly and opened it, stepping inside, the room beyond dimly lit by the faint glow of embers in a hearth.


    Must be fun, having servants prepare the hearth even before you tell them to. I was not particularly rich in my previous life, and even as Viserys, I barely got to enjoy wealth because of the rebellion.


    I planned to make up for all that once I take the throne.


    I followed her in, the door clicking shut behind me. The chamber was small and oddly intimate, the walls draped in an artwork of the Stark sigil. The furniture was a simple table, a low bench, and a curtained bed. They spoke of comfort rather than opulence. Winterfell was created for survival, not luxury.


    Nevermind, maybe it''s not that fun to be a Lord in this world. I noted and she spoke, ¡°Ah, give me a moment.¡± Sansa set to work at once, tending to the hearth.


    Within moments, newer flames danced, chasing away the corners of darkness. It heated up the chamber well.


    Orange light flickered across her face, and her auburn hair gleamed like polished copper. When she turned to me, her blue eyes held both warmth and hesitance. ¡°Viserys¡­ is something the matter? No, because you wanted to talk in private¡­¡±


    I allowed myself a brief, practiced smile. ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong exactly. I just wanted us some private time,¡± I crossed the room and sat beside her on a low bench.


    Even through her uncertainty, she seemed relieved at my calm tone. ¡°Mhm¡­ Well, we''re alone now, hehe¡­¡±


    We began with a gentle conversation and discussed how the day had finally brought  peace to Winterfell, and how the city¡¯s residents were learning to breathe again without the Ironborn¡¯s shadow looming over every stone.


    ¡°I''m¡­ still scared, though?¡± she said, her eyes full of doubt as she looked at me. I was confused about what she was so worried for.


    ¡°About what?¡±


    ¡°About what Theon said.¡±


    Despite riding on top of a dragon, Sansa was worried that this peace will end. That Asha Greyjoy will put an end to it all. I couldn''t help but chuckle.


    ¡°Seriously, Sansa?¡± I asked, ¡°What are some stupid Ironborn against me and my dragon? You saw me beat the shit out of the Hound. You saw Viserion murder a dozen.¡±


    She cleared her throat at that, looking away in embarrassment as she realised how stupid she sounded.


    I gave her the time to think it through, both of us sitting beside the fire, the crackling flames creating a lovely atmosphere.


    ¡°...You know,¡± A minute later, she spoke up. ¡°All this still seems like a dream. Its hard to believe I''m back home, whereas, just a few days ago, I was crying from Joffrey''s torture. It''s all thanks to you.¡±


    ¡°You''re saying it like I had nothing to gain from it,¡± I laughed, throwing a piece of wood into the fire, and resting my shoulder against hers. ¡°I got myself an alliance out of it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but still~¡± she scowled playfully. ¡°It''s the behaviour, you know? Someone else, and I can''t imagine feeling this¡­ blissful. It''s all because of you.¡±


    ¡°Is that so¡­?¡± I trained off, and she didn''t reply. We stared at each other, our eyes looking deep, and I leaned closer.  sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The space between us dwindled into something intimate.


    My fingers found Sansa¡¯s hand, and her breath caught. I could sense the tension that never fully left her, a tremor born from captivity and trauma. She didn¡¯t pull away though, letting my touch linger. ¡°You¡¯ve been through so much,¡± I said softly. ¡°You deserve better than this cold castle¡­ better than these burdens on your shoulders.¡±


    Her cheeks colored under the glow of the fire. ¡°W-what¡­ You¡¯ve done so much for me already,¡± she whispered. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you''re implying.¡±


    ¡°Don''t you?¡±


    She averted her eyes, cleaning her throat. ¡°Hey.. I don''t even know how to thank you, but now you''re saying this¡­¡±


    I let my hand rise to brush the curve of her jaw, feeling the heat of her skin. ¡°You don¡¯t need to thank me, Sansa,¡± I said. ¡°I am almost offended you''re considering it. Are we that distant that we need to say those fancy words to each other?¡±


    ¡°Uhm¡­¡±


    I leaned in, letting my lips graze hers in a soft, lingering kiss¡ªtesting the waters. Sansa blinked. There was a moment¡¯s hesitation, but then she responded, her hands lifting to rest against my chest, her eyes closing under my touch.


    Time stretched as the kiss deepened. My hand slid down her side, the texture of her gown and the slight quiver in her stance telling me more than words ever could. I roamed her body, pulling her onto my lap, devouring her mouth while my hands went around her body, her curves.


    ¡°Mmph~¡± she whimpered as I bit her lips, moving to lick her long neck. It was tasty. I hit down on her shoulders, while my hands squeezed her ass under her skirt.


    I lifted her up, holding her ass and raising her into the air. She gasped and I led to the bed, dropping her on her back. ¡°Ahn!¡± She bounced on it as I loomed over her, my eyes appreciating her beauty.


    Sansa Stark was ripe and ready, her curves spilling out, begging to be savoured.


    I leaned forward, going for a kiss, our lips meeting once again, while my hands went into her skirt again. This time, they went between her legs, on her heat core.


    ¡°Ahng- wait!¡± Just as I started pressing a little further, her palms flattened against me, a gentle but firm barrier. She broke away, breath ragged, face flushed.


    ¡°Sansa?¡±


    ¡°W-we can¡¯t, Vis,¡± she managed, voice trembling. ¡°Not before¡­ not before marriage, please. My mother, she¡¯d¡­ she¡¯d never forgive me.¡±


    I drew back, letting my expression darken just enough to feign a hint of hurt. Slowly, I stood up, turning away so she couldn¡¯t see the flicker of¡­ triumph in my eyes.


    ¡°I see,¡± I said, injecting a clipped tone. ¡°I would¡¯ve thought we had more than¡­ just a political arrangement. Hah, forget it.¡±


    Her eyes widened, and she reached for me in alarm. ¡°No, please, I didn¡¯t mean¡ª Viserys, don¡¯t be upset! I¡¯m just¡ª¡± She stumbled over her words, guilt and confusion knitting her brow.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± I said, looking at her from my shoulder. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have assumed.¡± Then I stepped away, letting the chamber¡¯s door open behind me.


    ¡°Wait, please!¡±


    I cast one final glance at her, making sure she saw the pain in my expression. ¡°Rest well, Lady Stark.¡±


    The door clicked shut, and I exhaled, the fa?ade slipping from my face. A slow, pleased smile pulled at my lips.


    Sansa¡¯s reaction played exactly into my plans¡ªfostering just enough guilt to keep her tethered. I couldn''t be the King who''d rule it all if I shared a passionate night with her so easily. Things had to be more difficult, and follow my plans. Especially with Yara Greyjoy soon coming.


    She¡¯d spend the night second-guessing her decision, grappling with whether her reluctance had driven a wedge between us. That doubt would allow me to manipulate her and stamp her away.


    ¡®Why¡¯re you mad I slept with someone else? Wasn''t it you who pushed me way?¡¯ ¨C that was the result I was going for. A gentle relationship with a highlord¡¯s daughter wouldn''t work.


    I''d decided otherwise from the very day I touched Arianne Martell.


    The corridor lay empty, save for the distant flicker of torches and the faint hum of night wind through the outer windows. My footsteps echoed softly on the worn stones as I moved away from Sansa¡¯s chamber.


    The Game of Thrones had multiple styles that one could choose to play from. I''d chosen the one where I''d dominate not only the kingdoms, but their families too.


    **


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 [53] Invasion of the Ironborn

    Chapter 53: Invasion of the Ironborn¡ª


    The Great Hall of Winterfell felt subdued. It had been only a few days since I drove the Ironborn out¡ªor more accurately, burned them out¡ªbut many of their scars remained, affecting the people of north. Torches flared along the high stone walls, casting flickers of light that struggled against the lingering shadows.


    Local farmers, tradesmen, and various other common folk filled the benches of the hall, waiting their turn to speak with the Stark children now holding court.


    Bran sat at the head of the gathering, dressed in a heavy fur-lined cloak. Though young, he wore the mantle of leadership here. Rickon, smaller and more fidgety, often glanced around the room, unsure of his role. Sansa sat to Bran¡¯s left, her gaze downcast, hands clasped in her lap. Now and then, she lifted her eyes, troubled blue light meeting the swirl of light from the torches overhead.


    Across the hall, I leaned against a chilly stone column, watching everything with a lack of interest. I barely paid attention to the soft murmurs of the people or the occasional cough echoing through the hall. Instead, my focus drifted to one of the tall, narrow windows that ran along the outer wall.


    The window showed my lovely dragon outside. She was hard to miss with that golden sheen of her scales. A pair of nervous stablehands were unloading the carcass of a fresh sheep, dropping it unceremoniously near Viserion.


    My dragon stretched her neck, yawning. A burst of orange flames left her yawn, and it singed the sheep before starting to devour it. Several onlookers watched from a distance, murmuring in both awe and fear, while Viserion¡¯s tail lazily flicked through the trodden snow.


    A smile touched my lips at the sight. They¡¯re still frightened of her. Good. It¡¯d been a few days, but the fear of a dragon didn¡¯t pass so easily. I turned my head just in time to catch a raised voice in the hall. ¡°Please, m¡¯lord!¡±


    An older man¡ªface lined with grief, eyes downcast¡ªstood before Bran and Sansa. His voice cracked as he spoke of the Ironborn¡¯s cruelties. ¡°Please¡­ my daughters, my poor girls, raped in our own home. My wife was the same, and she took her own life out of shame. And I¡­ I could only watch. In all cases. I couldn¡¯t stop anything!¡±


    A deep silence overtook the crowd. Rickon¡¯s lips parted, seeming unsure what to say. Maester Luwin patted him on the back, stopping him from saying anything. Sansa was horrified, while Bran¡¯s expression hardened, knuckles whitening on the arm of his chair.


    After a silent moment, Bran drew a breath. ¡°That is incredibly disheartening to hear, but the Ironborn have received their punishment,¡± he stated quietly. ¡°They died by dragon fire.¡±


    The old man sniffled, shoulders trembling. ¡°I know¡­ I know that. It¡¯s good that they burn¡­ it¡¯s their punishment. But my wife¡­ she¡¯s¡­ gone. My daughters¡­ they look dazed all the time, staring into the air.¡± His voice wavered. ¡°Who¡¯s going to fix them?¡±


    The silence returned. It was a quiet so deep it weighed on everyone¡¯s chest. Bran¡¯s gaze dropped, and for a moment, he seemed very much the child he was, confronted by a grief too large for easy answers. He found no immediate response, only silence and empathy.


    I pushed myself off the column, footsteps echoing as I approached the dais where Bran and Sansa sat. ¡°If I may,¡± I said, and the crowd parted slightly, wary of the tall muscular figure with silver-white hair. Sansa shot me a glance, curiosity mingled with uncertainty, but I ignored her. Bran nodded, allowing me the permit to speak. I didn¡¯t need his permission, of course, but it didn¡¯t hurt to be polite.


    I turned to the old man. ¡°How many men were involved?¡±


    The man swallowed. ¡°F-four¡­ m-mi lord¡­¡±


    My tone hardened. ¡°I see. I cannot bring your wife back to life, and I cannot undo your daughters¡¯ suffering. But I can give them a kind of justice, my kind of justice,¡± my eyes swept the onlookers, then returned to the old man¡¯s tear-stained face. ¡°More Ironborn will come to reclaim Theon, or to raid these lands further. I have intel about that. When they come, I will take four of them captive for you. Bring your daughters to Winterfell. We¡¯ll let them deal with those men in whatever manner they see fit. Will that give you some solace, goodman?¡±


    A glimmer of hope lit the old man¡¯s features. ¡°It¡­ it might, my lord. Yes. It might. I can¡¯t say if daughter¡¯s will be satisfied with it, but I¡¯ll be happy! And I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll hate it either¡­ Thank you. Th-thank you!¡± S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A buzz rippled through the assembled commoners, a mixture of surprise and satisfaction at this harsh offer. Sansa breathed in sharply but said nothing. I folded my arms, speaking once more. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet. This can only be done if Lord Stark permits it.¡±


    ¡°Uh?¡±


    ¡°While I claim to be the King of the Realm, the North isn¡¯t a part of my rule anymore. It is the land of the King in the North, Robb Stark. In his absence, I cannot rule my own judgment. It¡¯s up to him,¡± I shifted my gaze to Bran, voice even. ¡°What do you say, my lord?¡±


    Bran¡¯s face reflected a tangle of emotion. There was sympathy for the victim, horror at the brutality that already happened and the new one that I suggested, and a flicker of doubt. ¡°But,¡± he started, ¡°the four men you¡¯ll capture will not be the same ones who committed this crime. Is it justice to punish another for one¡¯s crime just because they¡¯re from the same place?¡±


    I offered a cold shrug. ¡°All Ironborn are cut from the same cloth, especially the raiding sort. They¡¯d have done the same or worse if it had been them. Do you disagree? From what we¡¯ve seen¡­ they¡¯re men of cruelty, burning children alive, raping as they please.¡±


    Many heads nodded¡ªsome vigorously, especially those who¡¯d witnessed or suffered from the Ironborn¡¯s short reign. Bran still hesitated, but then Sansa rose a little in her seat. ¡°We can¡¯t bring back his wife, but¡­ maybe this is the only justice left,¡± she said. Her voice softened. ¡°We¡¯ll do it, just as His Grace Viserys suggested.¡±


    She turned to look at me, a hint of admiration flickering in her eyes. I merely nodded, my expression distant, and turned aside. Sansa¡¯s smile faltered, disappointed that I didn¡¯t react warmly to her support. Everything was going fine.


    ¡°King Viserys!¡± The old man cheered, throwing his hand in the air. ¡°King Viserys!¡±


    ¡°K-king Viserys!¡± Another followed, and people exchanged glances before they cheered for me. It felt good. It felt great, actually. To be cheered by the people of another while standing in the middle of their halls.


    The cheers continued until a guard burst into the hall, panting.


    ¡°M-my lord,¡± he stammered, sparing a fearful glance at me. His chainmail rattled as he hurried to the dais. ¡°A band of Ironborn¡­ they¡¯re near the western road! They¡¯re armed, heading toward Winterfell.¡±


    Bran sat up straighter, lips parting as if to give an order, but he didn¡¯t speak fast enough. A faint, predatory smile curved my lips. I set off for the door, cloak swishing around my boots, my voice echoing through the hall. ¡°Save your breath, Lord Stark. I¡¯ll see to them personally.¡±


    Sansa¡¯s eyes followed me, concern etched across her features. The crowd pressed back as I passed, giving me a wide passage. Soon, gigantic wings took off into the air.


    ****


    The wind carried the salt-laden tang of the sea, a familiar taste that clung to Yara ¡°Asha¡± Greyjoy¡¯s lips as she rode at the head of her small company. She guided her mount with practiced ease, her sharp eyes scanning the landscape of the North. This place was cold and unwelcoming, with grey skies that mirrored the chill in her mood.


    She didn¡¯t like being so deep into the mainland.


    Just like how she didn¡¯t like riding a horse. The ship was her ride.


    Her fingers flexed on the reins. Theon, you bloody fool. She¡¯d cursed out loud when she first heard the news¡ªhow her younger brother had seized Winterfell and later how he¡¯d murdered children and burned their bodies to make his claim. It should have been cause for celebration. Ironborn should never apologize for taking what they wanted. But this?


    This was idiocy.


    Ironborn weren¡¯t born to hold a place. That wasn¡¯t the nature of a pirate. So when he called her for help to bring an army and hold Winterfell, she could only scoff. That was why her current company consisted of only three dozen grim-faced raiders who had followed her from the Iron Islands. Not to hold Winterfell but for something much simpler. Yara wasn¡¯t here to bolster Theon¡¯s fragile grasp on this land. She was here to bring him back.


    She tugged at the reins, slowing her horse as they passed into a thicket of frostbitten trees. She frowned then. The faint crunch of frozen ground under hooves was the only sound aside from the occasional murmur among her men. A hawk cried above, and the air felt¡­ wrong.


    Yara¡¯s frown deepened. Her instincts prickled. Something was off. She glanced back at her men, their hardened faces betraying a faint unease that mirrored her own. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± One of the younger men asked, yet to sense the oddity.


    ¡°We should¡¯ve seen the castle by now,¡± another one of them muttered. ¡°Where¡¯s the damn spires?¡±


    ¡°Quiet,¡± Yara snapped, her voice cutting through the growing tension. She straightened in her saddle, eyes narrowing as she scanned the horizon. The treetops swayed, but there was no wind. The world seemed to hold its breath. Something was definitely wrong here.


    Then it came.


    A sound¡ªno, a roar¡ªripped through the air, so loud it felt like the sky itself was being torn apart. Like thunder was screaming in pain. The sheer force of it rattled the branches above, sending a cascade of frost to the ground. Yara flinched, her hands flying to her ears as several of her men cried out in alarm.


    ¡°What the fuck was that?!¡± someone shouted, panic edging his voice.


    Yara¡¯s heart thudded against her ribs as she yanked her gaze upward. A massive shadow swept over the treetops, battering the weak northern sun. Her blood ran cold as she saw it¡ªa creature of legend, fire, and fury. A motherfucking dragon. ¡°What the¡­¡±


    The beast soared above them, its golden scales glinting like molten metal. Yara¡¯s heart began to pace faster. Its wings spanned wide enough to cast their company in shadow, and its roar echoed again, shaking the earth. Yara¡¯s heart was screaming by then.


    ¡°Hold!¡± Yara bellowed, her voice cutting through the panic. Her men froze, some gripping their weapons, others glancing at her for direction. ¡°Don¡¯t move a fucking muscle!¡±


    The dragon circled once, its powerful wings sending gusts of wind that flattened the grass and stirred up dust. It growled low, enough to make the earth rumble. Yara¡¯s stomach clenched as three of her men bolted, scrambling toward the cover of the trees.


    ¡°Run! Run away!¡±


    ¡°Idiots!¡± she hissed, but it was too late.


    ¡°Dracarys!¡± The dragon descended with terrifying speed, its jaws opening to release a torrent of flame. The three Ironborn screamed as fire engulfed them, their silhouettes writhing before collapsing into ash.


    The remaining men stood paralyzed, weapons half-drawn, their courage evaporating in the face of the fiery display. A voice boomed from above, calm but carrying an edge of mockery. ¡°Should¡¯ve listened to your princess, Ironborn Pigs.¡±


    Yara¡¯s head snapped toward the sound. The dragon came to a hovering stop, its golden body a mere blur of motion as it flapped its wings. Atop its back stood a man, his silver hair whipping in the wind, his red armor gleaming in the sunlight.


    ¡°Rhaegar Targaryen¡­?¡± one of her older men whispered, his voice trembling, and Yara¡¯s heart sank, though she quickly hid her reaction.


    Not Rhaegar. Too young. Unless it¡¯s a ghost. No, doesn¡¯t matter. I don¡¯t know what the fuck he is, but he¡¯s a Targaryen that¡¯s riding a dragon. She noted in her head that it was stupid to think about his identity right now when he was ready to burn her and her men to a crisp at any second.


    The dragon landed with a thunderous thud, its claws digging into the frozen earth. Yara gritted her teeth, keeping her horse steady as the rider dismounted, moving with the fluid grace of someone who knew his power.


    The man smirked as he approached, his pale violet eyes locking onto hers. ¡°So, you must be Yara Greyjoy. Or is it Asha? I hear you go by both. Doesn¡¯t matter.¡± He spread his arms in a mock bow. ¡°Welcome to Winterfell, Iron Princess. Your timing is impeccable; it allowed my earlier speech to be a lot grander. I¡¯ve been waiting for you.¡±


    Her jaw tightened. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Good question,¡± he said, his tone almost conversational. ¡°You see, your brother was quite vocal during our¡­ discussion. ¡®Asha will save me!¡¯ he kept shouting. It was very adorable and a lot more pathetic.¡± He tilted his head, eyes full of arrogance. ¡°I don¡¯t think he understands what a dragon can do, but it seems you''re smart enough to grasp it. So let us get this clear. You¡¯re not here to save Theon, not anymore. You¡¯re here to surrender.¡±


    One of her men growled, stepping forward with his axe raised. ¡°Who the fuck do you think you are, Targaryen bastard?!¡±


    The man didn¡¯t even flinch. ¡°The man standing between you and your funeral pyre, Viserys Targaryen, and that¡¯s ¡®Your Grace¡¯ for you,¡± he said in an easy tone. ¡°Try me, and I¡¯ll let Viserion introduce herself. She loves a good meal, especially when it¡¯s still wriggling.¡±


    As if on cue, the dragon growled, a low, rumbling sound that made the ground vibrate. That¡¯d have made a lesser woman pee herself, but Yara was a proud, strong woman.


    She raised a hand, halting her men before they could do something stupid. ¡°What do you want, Targaryen?¡±


    ¡°It is ¡®Your Grace¡¯ for you too, false princess,¡± Viserys said. ¡°Don¡¯t make me repeat it for a third time. Drop your weapons and follow me to Winterfell. I¡¯ll take you and your men into custody. Resist, and I¡¯ll burn every last one of you. Even if you manage to kill me somehow, if you¡¯re considering it, my dragon will tear you apart.¡± He flashed a smile, all teeth. ¡°So, what¡¯ll it be?¡±


    Yara hesitated, her mind racing. She didn¡¯t doubt his words. The three charred corpses behind her were proof enough. And yet, the thought of surrendering to a Targaryen, of leading her men into chains¡­


    ¡°Captain,¡± one of her men muttered, his voice heavy with fear. She exchanged glances but saw no hope. Yara exhaled sharply, her resolve hardening. No point in dying here. Theon, you goddamn fool.


    For the first time in a hundred years a dragon appeared, and her dumb fuck of a brother went and picked a fight with the rider. Yara dismounted, the snow crunching beneath her boots as she unslung her axe and dropped it to the ground. The metallic clang echoed like a death knell.


    ¡°Do as he says,¡± she barked to her men. ¡°Dismount and drop your weapons. Now!¡±


    There was grumbling and hesitant shuffling, but her men obeyed one by one, casting their axes, swords, and daggers into the dirt. Viserys smiled, pleased. ¡°Good choice,¡± he said, his tone almost cheerful.


    ¡°....¡±


    He gestured toward Winterfell, his dragon shifting behind him, smoke curling from its nostrils. ¡°Let¡¯s go. We have a warm welcome waiting for you.¡±


    Yara¡¯s fists clenched as she began to walk, her men falling into a dejected line behind her. The Targaryen punk¡¯s smirk burned in her mind as he jumped on top of his dragon, and she swore silently to herself. This isn¡¯t over.


    **


    **


    **


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 [54] A Promise Well Kept

    Chapter 54: A Promise Well Kept¡ª


    I led the Ironborn into Winterfell like trophies, their weapons confiscated, their heads bowed in defeat. Yara Greyjoy walked near the front of her people, shoulders tense, but her chin lifted defiantly. The snow fell lightly around us, gathering on the courtyard¡¯s cobblestones and on their cloaks. A silence was present in the air, marred only by the sound of our footfalls and the Ironborn¡¯s occasional grumbles.


    Viserion was taking short leaps, flapping her wings to carry her into the air briefly before waiting for the Ironborns to catch up. When they did, she leaped again. Like that, we approached Winterfell.


    Townsfold and Stark soldiers lined the courtyard, forming a corridor of wary stares and occasional murmurs. Some whispered my name¡ªeither with awe, resentment, or plain confusion. I breathed in, savoring the mixture of tension and fascination that clung to the air.


    This was precisely what I wanted. A spectacle, proof of my power and influence, even on the Stark¡¯s home turf. I was starting to like the stares.


    A man in the crowd spat at one of Yara¡¯s men, hurling curses about burned farms and stolen livestock. ¡°Die, filthy bastards!¡± The Ironborn responded with a snarl, but a swift blow from a Stark soldier silenced him. The soldier glanced my way, uncertain if I¡¯d approve. I gave him a small nod. Let them see that disrespect won¡¯t be tolerated¡ªby me or by these Northerners now acting under my will.


    ¡°Careful,¡± I drawled from atop Viserion, looking at Yara sideways. ¡°Your men are getting rowdy. Would be a shame if they forced my hand.¡±


    She scowled, but the edges of her mouth twitched, betraying her internal turmoil. ¡°You¡¯re parading them like dogs,¡± she hissed. ¡°Don¡¯t expect me to be grateful.¡±


    I merely shrugged. ¡°Them? You too. At least all of you are still breathing, so don¡¯t complain just yet.¡±


    ¡°We surrendered. You won¡¯t kill us,¡± she said, and I might have considered it if she was begging rather than claiming. I chuckled, making her growl at me. She wanted to snap back, I could see it in her eyes, but she held her tongue. She knew her men¡¯s lives dangled by a thin thread¡ªa thread I controlled. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As we approached the castle gate, Sansa and Bran appeared near the entrance, flanked by a handful of soldiers. Rickon peeked out from behind them, wide-eyed.


    I met their eyes, careful to only spare a second on Sansa. The courtyard opened into a broad space, watchful northerners forming a loose semicircle. Snow crunched beneath Viserion¡¯s feet as she landed again, and I jumped down, patting her scales. ¡°Go rest somewhere,¡± I said, gesturing for the Stark soldiers to step forward.


    ¡°At your command,¡± one of them said.


    ¡°Bind them,¡± I said, voice resonating in the hush. ¡°We¡¯ll house them in the dungeons for now. If they resist, you may feel free to knock sense into them.¡±


    A wave of men¡ªsome wearing Stark sigils, others brandishing axes and some common everyday weapon¡ªstepped up. Grunts and curses filled the air as the prisoners were shoved to their knees, hands bound behind their backs. A few hissed in anger, one even spitting at the ground. The soldiers repaid them in kind with hilt-strikes and heavy fists.


    Yara glared at me. ¡°You enjoy this, don¡¯t you?¡±


    I offered a slow, idle smile. ¡°Enjoy is a strong word, princess. I just find it useful.¡± My gaze swept the courtyard, meeting the eyes of more than a few Northerners. I let them see my composure, my claim to authority. Remember this day, I thought, the day a Targaryen showed mercy to you and cruelty to your enemies. Let¡¯s see how true the phrase ¡®The North Remembers¡¯ is.


    Bran, watching from his vantage point, wore a troubled look. He noticed me noticing him, and his lips parted as if to speak. But no words came. Instead, Sansa eased forward, nodding her thanks, trying to interact with me again. Her expression was half admiration but also a flicker of uncertainty. She recognized the power in my display, and I suspected she wasn¡¯t entirely comfortable with it.


    Yara, now tied, stepped closer to me, her voice low. ¡°You think this makes you the King in the North? Parading men in the snow?¡±


    I held her gaze. ¡°Are you stupid? I don¡¯t need to be king of the North. I¡¯m King of the Realm. Dorne backs me, as does the Reach. The North has only recently joined me too. Don¡¯t try to insult me, woman, it will not end well.¡±


    We locked eyes. An exchange more heated than any physical skirmish passed between us. At that moment, I sensed a grudging respect brewing in her as she looked away, even if she¡¯d never admit it. Good. Let her stew in it.


    ¡°Alright, everyone,¡± I turned away from her and faced the crowd. They¡¯d been waiting for me to speak. ¡°I¡¯ve defeated and captured the Ironborn army. Now, as promised, we should move into the show event.¡±


    When my words filled the open yard, the mood grew heavier and more claustrophobic. Tied well and under the watch of a pack of Stark soldiers and many more common northern people, Yara and her men stood stiffly.


    I gestured for Yara, ignoring her huff of annoyance. A hush fell as I addressed her. ¡°Yara Grejoy, the so-called ¡®Iron-Princess¡¯ attacked Winterfell, to support her brother and help him hold it.¡±


    ¡°I did not!¡± She shouted, ¡°I-¡±


    ¡°Silence!¡± My hand went flying, and her right cheek went red, face whipping to the side. Her eyes were wide, full of shock and rage. Some Ironborn shouted in response, and two northern soldiers slammed the end of their spears into their heads. I smiled. ¡°Now, tell me which four of your men are the worst. The real criminals. The rapers, the child-killers, the vile scum. We have a request from the local folk.¡±


    She bristled, glaring at me. ¡°I¡¯m not betraying my men. If you think that I¡ª¡±


    I raised a brow. ¡°Do you think they¡¯d do the same for you? They burn, they rape, they pillage as they please. You truly believe they¡¯re loyal to you? A woman?¡± I took a step closer, letting my voice drop. ¡°Or perhaps you¡¯d rather your entire group suffer the same fiery fate? Four is better than all, Princess.¡±


    Her jaw clenched, but she said nothing. I saw her struggling, balancing her fierce Ironborn pride with the grim reality.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± she went silent and then nudged her chin to a man, ¡°Darron,¡± she said, and the man stiffened. Then she spat three more names like curses. ¡°Torrek, Harlon, and Voryn.¡± She turned her head back to me. ¡°There. Satisfied?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± I nodded at the soldiers, and they moved to grab the four of them. I kept my expression serious now. I half-turned toward the Stark children, where I spotted that old man from earlier, the one whose family had been ruined. ¡°Bring your daughters here,¡± I told him, my tone carrying a note of finality. ¡°I¡¯ve found four bodies for them. Let them have their vengeance in the manner they see fit.¡±


    Bran was not far away, being carried by Hodor. At first, he said nothing, but when our eyes met, he looked at the floor with a distant look. A faint cough brought Maester Luwin forward, and the old man fiddled nervously with his chain of office.


    ¡°My lord,¡± the maester said softly, turning to Bran, ¡°we should consider mercy and justice both. These men¡­ perhaps a swift trial, or¡ª¡±


    Bran lifted his gaze, a frown creasing his brow. ¡°Maester Luwin, we must address the people¡¯s needs. If¡­ if I object, would it even matter?¡± He glanced toward me, then at Sansa, who quietly observed behind him.


    I withheld a comment. Let them speak openly. Let them wrestle with the weight of their own lands, I thought. I¡¯m simply fulfilling my promise. The tension in the open yard was dense, as though everyone was holding their breath, waiting for Bran¡¯s call.


    The young Stark¡¯s eyes flicked to me briefly, a glimmer of uncertainty in them. Perhaps he wondered if giving me so much influence was wise. Yet how could he deny the results of my actions? The Ironborn had been repelled, Theon was locked away, and now this father and his daughters would get a twisted measure of justice.


    Bran exhaled. ¡°The decision has already been made earlier, I¡¯m not going to go against it. Sometimes,¡± he began, his voice subdued, ¡°harsh decisions are necessary. I¡­ I don¡¯t like it. But if it spares more people from the Ironborn¡¯s cruelty, then so be it.¡±


    A small flicker of satisfaction ignited within me. He¡¯s learning, I noted. This was the North¡¯s future. A boy forced to grow up too soon, weighed down by moral quandaries. The realm shaped us all in such ways. Hopefully, he wouldn¡¯t have to become some tree spirit in this world.


    Maester Luwin¡¯s face flickered with discomfort. His chain rattled softly as he bowed his head, acquiescing. The old man¡¯s eyes showed emotions of burden and resignation.


    The father had already left at my order, he hadn¡¯t waited for Bran¡¯s permission to gather his daughters and prepare them for a meeting with their tormentors. The Starks braced themselves for the spectacle of vengeance.


    *****


    A hush settled over Winterfell¡¯s courtyard, the first flakes of early snow drifting onto the onlookers as the four captured Ironborn were dragged forward.


    Word of the impending execution had spread swiftly¡ªmerchants, farmers, and soldiers alike had gathered in a semicircle, torches blazing despite the afternoon light. The hiss and crackle of flames provided a low backdrop for the murmurs and harsh whispers rippling through the crowd.


    Bran and Sansa stood off to one side, flanked by loyal Stark guards. Bran¡¯s face was cast solemn, his brow furrowed; Sansa¡¯s eyes darted between the prisoners and the men and women assembled. Her lips formed a tense line, betraying her growing discomfort. She caught sight of Yara, standing near the front, bound at the wrists.


    The Ironborn princess¡¯s chin remained lifted in defiance, but tension radiated from her clenched jaw. Her people, in the meantime, were glaring at her more than at me.


    Ironborn would have preferred to die by dragon flames than be humiliated like this.


    Viserys strode into the open space, cloak dragging across the packed snow. A set of stakes and rough-hewn timbers formed an impromptu platform at the center of the courtyard. The crowd parted automatically, some stepping back warily as though the Targaryen¡¯s very presence demanded space.


    Yara observed it all. Clearly, they¡¯re scared of him too. So what is he doing here? How is there a dragon? Why is a Targaryen helping the Starks?


    All her thoughts came to a halt as her eyes moved to the four Ironborn forced to their knees, each one bound, bruised, and caked in dried blood from earlier skirmishes. Northern soldiers prodded them forward, ignoring the men¡¯s curses and spitting.


    Someone in the crowd whispered, ¡°The Targaryen¡¯s out for blood¡­ I heard three burnt bodies were found near Winterfell, and now he¡¯s going to kill four more. For¡­ for us.¡±


    ¡°Aye. Served them right. But let¡¯s see how far this goes.¡±


    Yara was enraged at these fools who were cowards hiding behind a dragon. If not for that silver-haired bastard¡­ She grumbled.


    ¡°I¡¯m here, m¡¯lord- no, Your Grace,¡± spoke a grieving farmer, his face still drawn tight with sorrow. He stepped out from the masses, accompanied by his two daughters. They clung to each other, trembling in the cold. Their eyes were puffy and haunted, as though they had already witnessed too many horrors. Viserys beckoned them forward with a sweep of his arm.


    ¡°You have your vengeance today. These four Ironborn¡ª¡± He gestured at the prisoners¡ª ¡°represent the men who wronged you. Let Winterfell see that no crime against the North goes unpunished. No crime in my seven kingdoms goes unpunished.¡±


    The girls hovered uncertainly, exchanging frightened glances. One soldier placed a small weapon into the eldest daughter¡¯s shaking hand: a blunt axe with the Stark sigil carved into the handle. She hesitated, her knuckles whitening on the wooden shaft, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.


    ¡°This is¡­ cruel,¡± Sansa said.


    ¡°You agreed to it. So did I.¡± Bran sighed.


    Ah, fuck, Yara noted, Theon¡¯s men just had to go raping, huh? Things might have been easier to handle if not for that. It was all her father¡¯s fault, truth be told, to put the most rowdy Ironborn in Theon¡¯s ship.


    A wave of restless energy passed through the crowd. Even those hungry for retribution couldn¡¯t help but feel a shiver of unease at the spectacle. Yara, forced to observe, ground her teeth in silent rage. The Ironborn, kneeling in the snow, spat curses at the onlookers, and then glared at her. Her men¡­ they who¡¯d travelled far with her, looked at her with hateful eyes for she¡¯d betrayed them.


    One of the Ironborn Prisoners snarled, ¡°Cowards! All of you! We¡¯d have fought you fairly if not for that damned dragon¡ª¡±


    His words cut off in a strangled cry as one of the daughters raised the axe. With a trembling gasp, she brought it down. Blood went flying. The blow was messy, lacking the practiced edge of a seasoned soldier. Blood spattered the snow, and she stumbled back, chest heaving.


    A collective gasp rose from the crowd¡ªsome recoiled, others shouted encouragement. Viserys stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on the second daughter¡¯s shoulder, guiding her with a gentle but firm push toward another captive. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Do it, take all your anger out,¡± he said. The second girl¡¯s eyes were red with tears, but she set her jaw and took the handle of a soldier¡¯s spear.


    The subsequent moments blurred into a brutal show of retribution and screams. Each daughter struck out, raw grief fueling their strikes, the crowd¡¯s cries crescendoing in a ragged unity of wrath and sorrow. Some watchers turned away, unable to bear the sight. Others pressed in, eager for every detail of Ironborn agony.


    Bran stood motionless, forced to witness the savage finality of what he¡¯d allowed. Sansa grasped the edge of her cloak, lips parted in shock, tears pooling in her eyes. Yet neither uttered a word to halt the brutality, forced by the knowledge that their people demanded blood for blood.


    When the last of the four Ironborn prisoners collapsed in the scarlet-stained snow, the men cheered. The grieving father gathered his daughters in his arms, and they wept uncontrollably. Viserys let the cheers rise, letting every eye see the cost of defying committing crime in his realm¡ªand the power he held on the tips of his fingers.


    Amid this all, Yara Greyjoy clenched her fists behind her back, her smoldering stare locked on Viserys. The last savage blow had shattered any lingering illusions that this was a mere show. The reality of their defeat¡ªof her men¡¯s utter helplessness¡ªsettled like a bitter stone in her gut. I¡¯ll make him pay for this¡­ I definitely will.


    ¡°That is it, everyone,¡± Viserys said and turned slowly, cloak brushing the ground. He cast a lingering glance at Bran and Sansa, reading their reactions as he addressed the soldiers. ¡°Burn the bodies and hang them in front of the gate. Lock the rest of them, except for the princess. Send her to my room a few hours later.¡±


    ¡°As you command!¡± A group of guards replied together.


    Then, with an almost regal composure, he strode away from the crimson snow, leaving the courtyard in a mix of emotions from people.


    **


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    **

 [55] The Iron Price? Nah

    Chapter 55: The Iron Price? Nah¡ª


    The night pressed against the walls of Winterfell. It was dark and cold.


    Beyond the window, a waning moon cast pale light on the snow-laden roofs. In a private chamber on the keep¡¯s second floor, torches sputtered in their brackets, sending wavering shadows dancing across the cold stone walls.


    Yara Greyjoy stood just outside the thick wooden door, her wrists bound behind her. Two Northern guards exchanged glances before the taller one rapped sharply on the door.


    A muffled voice from within. It was calm and waiting as it called out, ¡°Enter.¡±


    The guard eased the door open, allowing Yara to stride inside, her head high despite her restrained hands. Finally, those bastards. Despite the short time with these guards, she had come to hate them already.


    Not that the man inside was any batter.


    The room was modestly furnished. A sturdy bed piled with furs, a small table set with a half-burned candle, and a narrow window overlooking the moonlit courtyard. A brazier in the corner diffused a faint warmth, though it felt far too mild for Yara¡¯s chilled limbs.


    None of that was more eye-catching than the man waiting near the window. It was the man who''d defeated and imprisoned her and her group, and executed four of her loyal men.


    His silver-head turned at her entrance, and a slow, lazy smile curved his lips. It irritated her. He wore a loose-fitting tunic and breeches as though he were on the verge of retiring for the night. How dare he act so defenseless? Did he think she was no threat at all, just because her hands were tied?


    That''d be your funeral, Targaryen. Yara noted as the candlelight gleamed on his pale hair, giving him an otherworldly aura.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you, Iron Princess,¡± he said in a conversational tone. ¡°Let¡¯s discuss world peace.¡±


    Yara¡¯s jaw clenched, rage welling in her chest at his casual greeting. World peace? Really? After he killed her men? Her shoulders twitched with the urge to lunge at him, to break his smugness. Instead, she forced her voice to remain steady.


    ¡°What¡¯s there to talk about, Targaryen?¡± she demanded. ¡°You¡¯ve already burned three of my men and publicly executed four more. What else could there possibly be before you achieve ¡®world peace¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Ideally, the extinction of all Ironborn. Also, it''s ¡®Your Grace¡¯ for you.¡± His gaze didn¡¯t waver as he shrugged, glancing past her as though the matter were trivial. ¡°You¡¯re alive. Your brother¡¯s alive. And quite a few of your men still draw breath. That¡¯s more than you could¡¯ve hoped for. I suggest you be grateful.¡±


    Her jaw tightened further, teeth grinding together. For Theon¡¯s sake¡ªcurse that punk¡ªshe had to remain calm.


    Theon was in a cell somewhere beneath this castle, damned fool, but she didn''t know where. If I push too hard, we both lose.


    Fuming quietly, she advanced a step, keeping her chin lifted. The ideal plan was to kill this bastard, find Theon, and flee.


    ¡°Grateful? After everything you¡¯ve done to humiliate us?¡± Her voice was sharp. ¡°Hah. Let''s stop talking about useless stuff. I¡¯ve come to ask what you plan to do with me¡­ and my brother.¡±


    Viserys moved away from the window, and came closer. In the corner, the brazier crackled and sent up a faint glow that outlined his form. ¡°I¡¯ll be disappointed if you don¡¯t know,¡± he said. ¡°Your father¡¯s decisions forced my hand. Balon Greyjoy declared war, and your brother tried to hold Winterfell. All of the Five Kings are my enemies, so I¡¯m simply finishing what they started.¡±


    ¡°Robb Stark too?¡±


    ¡°I might marry his sister, so no, he''s not,¡± he said, watching her eyes narrow before continuing. ¡°See? I¡¯m no savage.¡±


    ¡°You''re infuriating.¡±


    ¡°Despite what you might think, no. We just had a bad first impression. I do want world peace, but not through too big of a blood sea. I don¡¯t plan to wipe out the Iron Islands for sport. You lots may be useful, if guided correctly.¡±


    Yara¡¯s lips curled in scorn. ¡°Fool. We bow to no one,¡± she snapped. ¡°The Ironborn do not bend the knee. We take what is ours, or we die in the attempt.¡±


    ¡°A foolish way to live, then,¡± Viserys said in a dry tone. ¡°The statement is funny, coming from someone who¡¯s halted her march her men into my dragon¡¯s jaws. Shouldn''t you have died trying to defeat me? Instead, you surrendered, ¡± His voice dropped, chilly as the winter air. ¡°Yara¡­ I can annihilate you, or I can make you an ally. Only you can decide which.¡±


    Her anger flared, and before she could think better of it, she lunged for the dagger strapped to a belt near the brazier. She''d been eyeing it for a while now. With her bound hands, it was awkward, but she gripped the blade and spun to strike at him.


    But she was surprised when Viserys moved swiftly, sidestepping her attack with practiced ease.


    ¡°Idiot,¡± the dagger clattered to the floor as he slammed her arms upward, spinning her until her face pressed into the cold stone beneath him.


    Her cheek stung on impact, but her pride stung far worse. ¡°I¡¯ll ignore that little stunt,¡± he said lightly, his voice near her ear. ¡°Once.¡±


    He pinned her firmly, her bound wrists grinding painfully against her spine. She struggled to no avail and could only growl in frustration. ¡°FUCK!¡±


    ¡°Hah. You¡¯re lucky I enjoy your spirit, Yara Greyjoy,¡± he continued. ¡°Now, I¡¯ll grant you another chance. Make better choices than your father or your brother. Do that, and you may yet return home alive¡­ with a crown on your head, perhaps. The Iron Queen. Doesn¡¯t that sound appealing?¡±


    A hollow laugh escaped her. ¡°I¡¯ll be queen regardless¡ªTargaryen meddling or not.¡±


    Viserys let a short laugh escape his own throat, an edge of true amusement in it. ¡°You are one dumb bitch, aren''t you? I won''t deny that you''ve achieved a lot in your life, but do you really think your people will accept a bitch as their ruler?¡±


    ¡°Watch your mouth- argh!¡± She tried to free herself from his grip, but he was too strong. How was he so strong? S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°Listen, you¡¯d better choose the right side of the game if you want to play Queen,¡± he said, finally easing his grip, though not enough for her to break free. ¡°I¡¯ll kill the rest of your men if it furthers my interests, and I¡¯ll kill you if you annoy me enough. Is that so hard to understand?¡±


    Her breathing came hard, but she finally relented. ¡°Fuck you,¡± the reality that she couldn¡¯t kill him, couldn¡¯t even scratch him, settled on her like a chain. ¡°But¡­ fine,¡± she muttered through gritted teeth. ¡°Let me go.¡±


    He rose smoothly, allowing her arms some slack, and she scrambled to her feet, the humiliation of her position scorching her pride. She realized her hands weren''t tied anymore, so she dusted off her leathers, refusing to meet his mocking gaze.


    ¡°So we can speak like civilized people now?¡± he asked.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± she demanded ¡°Be more specific.¡±


    He walked to the bed, half-dropping onto it in a languid sprawl. The single torch left in the room cast shadows across his face. ¡°I want you to persuade your father to bow to me. I know he''s a stubborn bastard, so I¡¯ll fly to the Iron Islands with you and demonstrate my dragon¡¯s power, if need be. Men like Balon understand force better than words.¡±


    Yara huffed. ¡°Even if I tried, my father does as he pleases. He¡¯s¡ª¡± She caught herself from revealing too much about her father¡¯s insecurities. ¡°Well.¡±


    ¡°Then you can show him. He sees a dragon, he might re-evaluate his stance. If not, well¡­¡± His fingers drummed on the fur bedspread, each tap a silent threat. ¡°I¡¯ll consider other options.¡±


    He could always kill her father and put someone else on the throne. She frowned.


    ¡°So, what do you say?¡± He asked.


    She hesitated, the flicker of a thousand potential outcomes flashing in her mind. The Iron Islands, proud and fierce, wouldn¡¯t bow easily, but faced with a living dragon, might they yield for self-preservation¡¯s sake? Or would they fight and burn?


    ¡°So it¡¯s blackmail,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°Diplomacy. With teeth. See this from my shoes. How many nation-level incidents has your father caused in his lifetime? It''s better for him to step down.¡± Sighing, he looked again, this time without menace. ¡°You came here to fetch your brother. Instead, you¡¯ll leave with me and my dragon. In return, you get to rule your people while you serve my claim to the Iron Throne, and all Ironborn escape their fate of being crisped alive.¡±


    Anger flared behind her eyes, but she nodded. ¡°....All right,¡± she murmured grudgingly. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad.¡± He patted the bed, a brazen invitation that made her jaw clench. ¡°Now, how about we let¡¯s seal that promise, Yara?¡±


    Yara¡¯s glare burned into him as his words settled in the air. ¡°What? That wasn¡¯t part of the agreement,¡± she spat.


    Viserys tilted his head, his grin widening. ¡°We¡¯re just making the agreement right now, so yes, it is,¡± he replied smoothly.


    ¡°Bastard.¡±


    He chuckled in response. His tone carried no urgency, only the confidence of someone who knew he''d already won. He leaned back on the bed, spreading his arms in mock invitation. ¡°Be a good little Ironborn pig and crawl to me.¡±


    Her eyes twitched, her fists clenching at her sides. The torchlight flickered, casting sharp shadows on the walls as the tension thickened.


    For a moment, she seemed poised to refuse, to spit some cutting remark and leave with her pride intact. But then her shoulders slackened, her gaze flicking down as the weight of her situation bore down on her.


    For the Ironborn, Yara told herself as she lowered to her knees, the motion slow and deliberate, every inch of her movement screaming defiance even as she complied.


    The stone floor was rough beneath her hands as she crawled toward him, her eyes never leaving his face. Each step forward was a war between fury and submission, her pride and her survival instincts clashing violently.


    Viserys¡¯s grin deepened as he watched her, his pale violet eyes glinting with satisfaction. ¡°Good little bitch,¡± he murmured, his voice dripping with mock approval.


    All this seemed like a bad dream as Yara reached the edge of the bed, and Viserys leaned forward, taking her.


    [Image Here]


    Spoiler


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    Author Note: The picture is based on Elizabeth Swan from Pirates of the Caribbean, rather than Yara from GOT ????????? just imagine Miss Swann with darker hair.

 [56] A Very Fun Show

    Chapter 56: A Very Fun Show¡ª


    Yara¡¯s heart pounded in her chest, a mix of anger, humiliation, and reluctant compliance as he reached out. His fingers brushed her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine despite herself.


    Yara''s hands trembled as her fingers brushed against his thigh. She could feel the heat of his skin, the roughness of his leather breeches, and she fought back a surge of revulsion.


    She had to do this for the Iron Islands, for her brother, and for herself. Her resolution was hard. She met his gaze, her eyes sharp. ¡°Enjoy yourself today, I guess,¡± she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.


    Viserys¡¯s smile softened, almost tenderly. ¡°Oh, I will, trust me,¡± he replied, his voice smooth. ¡°This is going to be a fun night.¡± Then, he pulled her closer, placing her ass on his lap as his hand slid to the back of her neck, his touch firm but not cruel. ¡°Let¡¯s make sure it''s fun for both of us.¡±


    Yara''s lips parted in a silent gasp as he pulled her closer, his hands sliding up her thighs, caressing her through the rough fabric of her leathers. She shuddered at his touch, her body betraying her as it responded to his skilled fingers. She wanted to push him away, to tell him that she wasn''t some toy to be played with, but she bit back her words, knowing that resistance was futile.


    Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a gentle, almost teasing kiss. She hesitated, her mind racing, but then she responded, her lips parting slightly. The kiss deepened, and the world around them seemed to fade away for a moment, leaving only the heat of their bodies and the intensity of the moment.


    Viserys¡¯s hands moved to her bound wrists, untying them with practiced ease. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. ¡°Better,¡± he said, his voice low.


    He held her waist, put her to the side, and stood up. He began to unlace his tunic, his movements were deliberate and confident. Yara tried to find it unattractive but failed. Cursing under her breath, she watched, her heart still racing, but a part of her was intrigued, drawn to the power and control he exuded.


    ¡°Strip,¡± he said. She stood silently. ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll help you then.¡±


    He reached out and tore at her clothes, ripping the leather from her body and exposing her to his hungry gaze. Yara''s cheeks burned with rage rather than shame, but she didn¡¯t show it. She couldn''t bring herself to look away, her eyes locked on his as he took in her naked form.


    "Beautiful," he whispered, his fingers trailing down her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "You''re mine now, Yara Greyjoy. And I''ll do with you as I please."


    He pushed her legs apart, his fingers sliding into her pants, stroking her intimately. Yara''s breath caught in her throat as he touched her, her body arching involuntarily at his skilled touch. She tried to push him away, to deny the pleasure that was building within her, but he held her fast, his fingers moving faster, harder.


    ¡°So much for resistance,¡± he said, pulling his hand back and licking his fingers. Then her own hands moved to the laces of her leathers, her movements slow and deliberate. ¡°Now stop dragging this. Take off the rest of your clothes.¡±


    As she began to undress, Viserys¡¯s eyes never left her, his gaze intense and unwavering. When she was finally bare, he stepped closer, his hands sliding over her shoulders, down her arms, and around her waist. He pulled her close, his lips finding hers again in a passionate, hungry kiss.


    Yara¡¯s initial resistance melted away, and she found herself kissing him back, her hands moving to his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his skin. She pushed him back onto the bed, climbing onto him, her body pressing against his.


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said, surprised. ¡°You¡¯re so forward suddenly.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t help but be so after you took off your shirt. It¡¯s not as if you¡¯re not attractive,¡± she murmured, her voice a mix of defiance and desire. ¡°So just stay quiet, and let¡¯s enjoy ourselves.¡±


    Viserys chuckled, his hands roaming over her body, his touch both gentle and commanding. ¡°As you wish,¡± he said, his voice low and husky.


    Yara¡¯s heart raced as his hands moved over her, his fingers tracing the contours of her body. She felt a mix of defiance and desire, her initial coldness giving way to a growing heat. His lips found hers again, and the kiss deepened, their tongues intertwining in a passionate dance.


    He rolled them over, his body covering hers, and she felt the warmth of his skin against hers. His hands were firm on her hips, guiding her, and she felt a thrill of anticipation as he positioned himself at her entrance. She took a deep breath, her body tensing slightly, but then she relaxed, letting herself be swept away by the moment.


    She felt his manhood press against her core, gasping a little at the size. Viserys entered her slowly, his movements deliberate and controlled. She moaned softly, but then something changed. ¡°Haaangh?!¡±


    ****


    When I slammed my cock inside Yara¡¯s dripping cunt, a blue screen flashed before me.


    [You have claimed your first virgin.]


    What? Seriously? I was more surprised that she was a virgin compared to the fact that I, nor the pre-Viserys, had taken anyone¡¯s virginity despite sleeping with so many women. Women of this world are goddamn sluts. What¡¯s up with her then?


    Then I recalled her flirting with a prostitute in the TV Show. She didn¡¯t swing this sway; if she did, it was barely since she was wet. Still, it was quite surprising. And it didn¡¯t end there.


    [A dragon¡¯s mate must be pure, and you¡¯ve finally found one suitable with strong genes and personality. Conditions have been met for skills!]


    [Skill: ¡®Dragondick - E¡¯ has been unlocked!]


    This is insane. I noted before chuckling to myself and slamming deeper into Yara. All of this was weird, but I didn¡¯t hate it. I¡¯d breed her into a submissive, loyal mate if necessary.


    ****


    Yara gasped as his manhood suddenly felt hotter, bigger, better, her breath catching in her throat as she felt him fill her. ¡°H-holy shitthhh!¡± She arched her back, her nails digging into his shoulders, and he paused, giving her a moment to adjust.


    His eyes met hers, and she saw a mix of desire and something else¡ªsomething almost tender. ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asked, his voice a low murmur.


    Yara was surprised to see this annoyingly arrogant man ask her so gently. She nodded, her breath still ragged. ¡°Yes,¡± she whispered. ¡°Just¡­ move.¡±


    He complied, his movements growing more rhythmic and intense. She felt each thrust deep within her, her body responding with a growing heat. She¡¯d never felt like this before. Was this what she was missing out on by only choosing to sleep with women? Dammit, what a loss. Her moans mingled with his low, satisfied groans, and the room was filled with the sound of their passion.


    ¡°F-faster,¡± she whispered, her voice a mix of desire and plea. Viserys did as asked, his movements becoming more urgent, his hips slapping against her ass as the sound filled the room. His lips trailed kisses down her neck and shoulders, and she arched her back, her body meeting his thrusts with a growing intensity, her nails leaving marks on his skin.


    Yara¡¯s breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with pleasure. She clung to him, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. ¡°You¡¯re going crazy,¡± he breathed, ¡°you wild girl.¡± He chuckled as his hands roamed over her body, his touch both possessive and tender.


    She felt a surge of passion that she shouldn¡¯t toward an enemy, her body responding to his every touch. ¡°Oh- Ohn~ my,¡± she moaned, her voice a low, husky whisper. ¡°Don- don¡¯t stop~!¡±


    He didn¡¯t, his movements becoming more frantic, his breath hot against her skin. She felt the tension building within her, a growing heat threatening to consume her. Her body trembled, and she felt the first waves of pleasure crashing over her.


    ¡°Yara,¡± he growled, his voice mixing desire and control. ¡°You like that? I¡¯m sure you heard in the dungeon that I broke your brother¡¯s jaw, and you still love that? Despite all my threats earlier? You can¡¯t seem to control your hips, you dirty slut,¡± he said.


    She met his gaze, her eyes dark with passion. ¡°S-shut up, arrogant bastard,¡± she moaned, her voice barely audible. ¡°Just do me, fuck me like you wanna- ahn- break meh~.¡±


    As the moment''s intensity grew, a part of Yara¡¯s mind lost its clarity, a voice of defiance and pride slowly giving in to his strong arms that embraced her. But for now, she let herself be swept away by the passion, her body responding to his every touch. She moaned softly, her hands clutching at the furs beneath them, her body trembling with pleasure.


    Viserys¡¯s movements became more urgent, his thrusts deeper and more powerful. Yara¡¯s moans grew louder, her body arching into his, her nails digging into his back. She felt the peak of her pleasure approaching, a wave of heat that threatened to overwhelm her.


    ¡°That¡¯s it, that¡¯s ith~ I am close, so close,¡± she moaned like an instrument, her voice weak and submissive. Viserys¡¯ movements grew harsher, and she arched her back, her body meeting his thrusts with a growing intensity, her nails leaving marks on his skin. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The room was filled with the sound of their passion, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Yara¡¯s body trembled, her moans so loud that the walls trembled as she felt the peak of her pleasure approaching. She felt a surge of heat, a wave of pleasure that threatened to consume her.


    ¡°V-Viserys!¡± she cried out, her body trembling as she reached her climax. He followed her moments later, his body shaking with the force of his release. They collapsed together, their bodies entangled, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.


    Everything went blurry for a moment as she relaxed her head, staring at the ceiling, her breathing ragged. She found herself being held in his arms, her body still trembling with the aftereffects of their passion.


    ¡°By the way,¡± Viserys suddenly said, and she failed to respond. When he called her for a second time a minute later, she looked up with a smirk.


    ¡°I thought this was going to be hard to enjoy, but damn are you good¡­¡± she bit her lips. ¡°Should we continue, baby? We have the night all for ourselves.¡±


    ¡°Soon,¡± he said, ¡°but first¡­¡± Then he reached out and pulled a rope that hung from the ceiling. She hadn¡¯t noticed it at first. But as he pulled that, the closet that faced the bed suddenly parted. Yara froze.


    Theon Greyjoy, naked and bound to a chair, was revealed inside the closet, his mouth gagged, face pale, and tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched the scene.


    Viserys¡¯ eyes met her younger brother¡¯s, and he smirked. ¡°Your sister is delicious, Theon. Enjoyed the show?¡±


    Yara¡¯s eyes widened in shock, her body stiffening. She turned to Viserys, her expression a mix of anger and betrayal. ¡°You- how dare you¡ª¡± she began, but Viserys silenced her with a kiss, his hands gentle but firm.


    She grumbled, punching him in the chest, but when he pressed his weight on top of hers, her body gave into his grasp. It was weird. She¡¯d never felt like this before, ever. Were all Targaryens like this? In the end, she could only moan for him, her nails clutching his back.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, ¡°be obedient and let¡¯s continue.¡±


    She didn¡¯t want to, but at the same time, she did. In between her gasps, she managed, ¡°Dammit¡­ It¡¯s all your fault, brother,¡± she whimpered in a trembling voice as she passionately kissed him back, her body still trembling with the aftereffects of her earlier orgasm.


    Viserys¡¯s smile was cold and triumphant as he kissed Yara and looked at Theon, who sobbed quietly in his chair. ¡°Remember this, pathetic bastard,¡± he said, his voice a warning. ¡°This is the price of betrayal.¡±


    The room was silent. The only sounds were the brazier''s soft crackling and the three occupants'' ragged breaths but for different reasons. Yara¡¯s eyes met Viserys¡¯s, and they shared a dark, unspoken understanding for a moment before he began to make her bite the sheets once more.


    **


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    Come find fellow fans on Discord and more chapters on Patreon!


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 [57] Will You Drop By?

    Chapter 57: Will You Drop By?¡ª


    I stood by the window, a cup of warm tea in my hand, watching the pale morning light creep over Winterfell''s harsh landscape.


    Morning breeze ruffled my hair while the sun barely peeked above the horizon, casting stretched shadows across the snow-covered grounds. It was a sight to behold. The tea helped amplify it.


    Behind me, I heard the shuffling and rustling of furs.


    "Finally up?" I asked, turning to find Yara stretching, her eyes blinking away sleep as she took in her surroundings with evident confusion.


    "Why do you look so puzzled? Don''t tell me you''ve forgotten last night?" I asked, amused by her disorientation.


    She scoffed, a low chuckle escaping her lips. "No, I thought I reached heaven last night. So I am surprised to wake up amid black stones." She laughed with a yawn, her breasts heaving up at that.


    I matched her laugh, leaning against the windowsill. She''s trying to wiggle under my defenses, how sharp. I replied, "True, Winterfell isn''t that pleasant to the eyes. Harsh. Full of cold people."


    "So why''re you helping it?" She fixed me with a direct stare, cutting straight to the point. "I heard you''re letting Robb Stark remain King in the North. A separate Kingdom. Why''re you being so nice to them?"


    "Careful," I took a measured sip of tea, "I enjoyed your embrace last night, doesn''t mean you get to try to manipulate me."


    She threw her head back with a laugh, making her breasts jiggle. "Hey, worth the try, no? Speaking of, are the Iron Islands going to be independent too? You kept promising me ''Queen'' title."


    "Nah. You''ll be the Queen of Iron Islands, yes, but officially you''ll be dressed as a Highlady. Like Olenna Tyrell. The Queen of Thorns unofficially, in people''s mouth, but on paper she''s a Highlady. So yes, you''ll be queen, but at the same time no."


    "Clever wordplay," she said, sitting up straighter. "And what of my people''s traditions? Our way of life?"


    "Your people can raid all they want ¨C in the East. Leave my kingdoms alone, and I''ll point you toward richer targets across the Narrow Sea."


    Her eyes lit with interest. "The Free Cities?"


    "Among others. Plenty of wealth to be had without antagonizing dragons. The world has more continents than Westeros and Essos, anyway.¡±


    "You''re more ambitious than I thought. By the way¡­" she shifted, "where is Theon?¡± She looked at the open closet where her brother had been tied last night. ¡°And when are we leaving for the Iron Islands?"


    "Theon is back in the dungeons. He''s untied now, don''t worry. He''ll get his food on time. As the brother of my Queen, I can''t treat him too badly."


    "Your queen?" Her eyebrow arched. "You proposing a marriage?"


    I broke out laughing, cup still in hand as I approached her and grabbed her chin with my other hand. "I am making you Queen, and I made you feel like one last night. Meaning you already are mine, you pirate whore. Why do I have to marry you?"


    She stared up at me, her expression unreadable for a long moment. If she felt offended by my insult, she didn''t show it. Then she parted her lips and pushed her face up, meeting mine in a kiss. I stared silently as she closed her eyes, and my lips curved.


    At least she knows how to play this game. I thought as I tossed the cup aside without care, hearing it shatter against the ground, and leaning into the kiss.


    Her kiss was fierce, a clash of tongues and teeth that spoke of her strength and her defiance, even now. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her against me as we tumbled back onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and desire. My hands roamed over her body, tracing the lines of her muscles, the dips and curves of her form. I cupped her full breasts, my thumb brushing over her nipple, feeling it harden at my touch.


    She moaned into my mouth, her back arching, pressing herself more firmly into my hand. My other hand slid down her side, gripping her hip before giving her ass a firm spank. The sound echoed through the room, followed by a sharp intake of breath from Yara.


    She chuckled before a wicked grin spread across her face. "I seem to have forgotten how you made me feel like a Queen last night,¡± she said, voice sultry. ¡°Make me feel that way again¡­ Your Grace?¡± she begged, her voice a low, husky whisper that sent a jolt of desire straight to my core.


    This woman knew what she was doing, and I was all for it. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    [Skill: ¡®Dragondick - E¡¯ activated!]


    ****


    With another loud session to enjoy the morning, we were pretty late already. I walked through Winterfell''s corridors with Yara beside me, noting how the guards'' eyes followed our every movement.


    The standby guards¡¯ gazes held a mix of fear and judgment ¨C some even outright disgust.


    A few whispered behind their hands as we passed, no doubt sharing lurid theories about what had transpired. The cold stone walls had carried sound far last night, and more so this morning. Despite the ropes that now bound Yara''s wrists, her willing participation hadn''t been obvious to others. The marks on her neck probably didn''t help matters either. To others, it probably came off as a rape.


    "They think you''re a monster," Yara noted with amusement, her voice low enough that only I could hear. Her lips curved into that familiar cynical smile I might grow accustomed to.


    I shrugged, walking casually and meeting a passing guard''s disapproving stare until he looked away first. "Let them. Fear commands more respect than kindness, and I¡¯d rather be feared than loved."


    Those words I''d heard a lot back on earth, but I only understood it here in this world of blood and fire. As the pirate princess of the stubborn Ironborn, she should know a thing or two about it.


    "True enough." She rolled her shoulders, the ropes shifting against her leather jerkin. A small grimace crossed her face, though whether from discomfort or anticipation, I couldn''t tell. "Where are we going now? When do we leave for the Islands?"


    "Now, actually. The sooner we deal with your father, the better." I glanced at her profile, studying the tight set of her jaw and the slight furrow between her brows. "Nervous about facing him?"


    "Hardly. Just wondering how he''ll react to a dragon at his doorstep. And¡­ well. If he''ll be wise to choose life over death.¡± She sighed softly.


    Whatever the case, she was his daughter. So she was naturally worried.


    I wanted to comment on that, but our conversation halted when we rounded a corner and came face to face with Sansa Stark. She froze mid-step, her blue eyes widening before darkening with something between hurt and anger. Her gaze flickered between us, lingering on Yara''s bonds.


    "...Viserys," she managed, her voice carefully controlled. "Lady Greyjoy."


    "Lady Sansa," I replied evenly, watching her flinch at the formal address. Her lips quivered, hesitating, before she spoke up.


    "Might I... speak with you privately before you depart?" Her eyes held a plea. When I went silent, she added, "Please?"


    I hummed. "I was just leaving for the Iron Islands. I was supposed to leave early in the morning, but it''s already late. There are matters that need attention-"


    "Please," she repeated, more urgently. "Just a moment of your time."


    After a pause, I clapped my hands. Two guards appeared promptly, and I gestured for them to escort Yara outside. Yara shot me a look, and then looked at Sansa. As the guards led her away, she tilted her head back deliberately, exposing the marks on her neck. Her smirk was pointed directly at Sansa.


    Sansa stared at her walk away, and once we were alone, Sansa turned back to me and her composure cracked. "You... you raped her?"


    "What? No. Did she just look like someone who was raped? She made a deal with her body, and I accepted. That is not rape," I replied matter-of-factly, somewhat irritated by the accusation.


    Her lips pressed into a thin line, color rising in her pale cheeks. "How... how could you do that with her? Someone like her?"


    "I just told you it''s not ra-" I paused, my mind lighting up as realization dawned on me. I studied her flushed face and trembling hands. "Ah, I see. You''re complaining why I slept with another woman? ¡­Lady Sansa, you and I are not in a relationship. I thought that much was clear. Whatever... expectations you might have had were your own."


    She clenched her jaw, her head lowering as words failed her. Her auburn hair fell forward, partially concealing her face. ¡°...Well, since it seems our conversation has ended,¡± I said after a moment of tense silence, turning to leave, my boots echoing against the stone floor.


    "W-wait," she called out, voice catching. I stopped but didn''t turn, keeping my shoulders rigid. "Will you drop by after you''re done... or just return to King''s Landing from the Iron Islands?"


    "Probably the latter," I said, and walked away, my footsteps measured and deliberate, leaving her standing alone in the dimly lit corridor.


    The sound of my departure seemed to echo off the ancient walls of Winterfell. But I couldn''t fly off on Viserion''s back just yet, I had to converse with the impromptu Lord before that


    **


    **


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 [58] The Iron Islands

    Chapter 58: The Iron Islands


    ¡ª


    A frigid breeze nipped at my skin while I waited in the castle''s training yard. Frost coated the earth, making soft popping sounds under my feet as I settled my mind for leaving. My beloved mount rested close by, her metallic-gold hide shimmering under the weak dawn light, wisps of vapor curling from her snout as she exhaled.


    I noticed my magnificent Dragon still inspired awe and fear, her form catching the nervous eyes of guardsmen and peasants who''d assembled to watch us take our leave. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Yara stood bound beside me, her posture straight despite the ropes that secured her wrists. Despite that, she looked somewhat dazed, perhaps more worried about the incoming meeting than what she wanted to show.


    [Image Here]


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    She''s much prettier than her show counterpart. No, a whole different person. I noted, and perhaps because I was staring too hard, her daze ended and she caught me watching her. She quirked an eyebrow, that growing familiar smile appearing on her lips.


    "Your dragon seems impatient," she observed, nodding toward Viserion who shifted restlessly, talons scoring the frozen earth.


    ¡°She''s not. She''s just annoyed that I''m going to carry another non-Targaryen above her,¡± I said, and she hummed.


    The crunch of boots on ground heralded the arrival of Winterfell¡¯s impromptu Lord, making me turn my head toward them. Hodor lumbered forward with Bran Stark in his arms, followed by his little brother and the elderly Maester Luwin, whose metal links tinkled with each step.


    "Your Grace," the crippled boy said with a voice that was graver beyond his years. "We wished to extend our gratitude before your journey. Our home might still be lost to the squids if not for your intervention."


    I gave a slight nod. "Having custody of this captive is thanks enough. She''ll prove useful in negotiations with her father. Robb is a fine King, and as his younger brother, you show wisdom beyond your age. This alliance and friendship pleases me. As your Northern saying goes, the North remembers. I trust our friendship will endure when it matters most."


    "We will," Bran assured me, then hesitated. "But about the Bolton forces..."


    "They''ll arrive within days," I confirmed. "Robb sent them before me. Even if they¡¯re on foot, they should arrive soon. They''ll help hold Winterfell from any future incident,¡± I glanced at the castle walls, where workers still repaired damage from the Ironborn occupation. "You''ll need them."


    Maester Luwin stepped forward, his weathered face creased with concern. "Your Grace, if I may speak freely?"


    I was curious what a maester wanted to tell me. I was aware of the many theories surrounding them, about how they killed the last dragons, and about how they planned the death of magic like a grand scheme.


    At my nod, he continued, "Alliances in Westeros are fragile things, built on shifting sands. I¡­ we all know what unfolded between you two last night, and I''m not here to confront you for it. However, the Greyjoys..." his eyes flicked to Yara, "have proven particularly... unreliable allies in the past. No matter what you''re planning to do with them be careful before turning them.¡±


    "Careful, old man," Yara drawled, but I raised a hand, silencing her.


    "Your concern is noted, Maester Luwin. But times change, and so do allegiances." I met his gaze steadily. "The world is reshaping itself. Those who adapt will survive. And Yara has adapted.¡±


    The maester bowed slightly, though doubt still lingered in his eyes. "As you say, Your Grace."


    Rickon, who had been fidgeting quietly, suddenly burst out, "Will you bring your dragon back? Can I touch it next time?"


    "Rickon!" Bran hissed, but I laughed.


    "Perhaps, young lord. Though Viserion isn''t particularly fond of strangers."


    We chatted for a bit more until movement caught my eye. Sansa approached quietly, her auburn hair bright against the grey morning. She stopped at a respectful distance, her face carefully composed.


    "...Your Grace," she said softly. I found myself smiling hearing her address me by my title. Was she finally going to act cold? "I wish you safe travels."


    The tension from our earlier conversation hung between us. I acknowledged her with a slight nod. "Thank you, Lady Sansa. Keep Winterfell strong in your brother''s absence. Now, it''s time we leave. Yara,¡± I said, and turned toward Viserion, who lowered her head with an irritated snort.


    Her patience was wearing thin. I mounted smoothly, then looked down at Yara who''d followed me.


    She raised her bound hands. "How exactly am I supposed to climb up there?"


    "My bad," I shrugged, dismounting. I held her by the waist, and in one fluid motion, I lifted her, enjoying her soft hum, and placed her securely in front of me. She shot a smug look at Sansa, whose jaw tightened visibly.


    "Hold tight," I commanded, gripping Viserion''s scales. The dragon spread her wings, casting a massive shadow across the courtyard.


    With a powerful thrust, we launched into the air, leaving Winterfell and its complicated politics behind.


    ****


    The world looked different from a dragon''s back.


    Viserion''s wings cut through clouds as we soared over the North''s vast expanse. The landscape stretched endlessly below us ¨C forests, hills, and frozen rivers woven together like some giant''s threadbare tapestry. The air was thin and bitter cold at this height, but I barely noticed it anymore.


    Yara sat rigid in front of me, her bound hands gripping Viserion''s scales. Every so often, her shoulders would tense when we hit a pocket of turbulent air. I could almost feel the conflict radiating from her ¨C the mixture of awe at flying on a dragon and resentment at her position.


    "Quite the view, isn''t it?" I said close to her ear, watching her suppress a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.


    She turned her head slightly. "Different from a ship''s deck, I''ll give you that." Her voice carried a hint of grudging admiration. "Though I prefer having my feet on solid wood."


    "I understand where you''re coming from. I got used to it already, though. Dragon riding is just second nature to a Targaryen,¡± I said, observing her reaction as she shrugged.


    "I guess it''s a good thing that I won''t be riding dragons often," she said.


    "Won''t you? As my Iron Queen, you''ll need swift transport between the islands and mainland often."


    She fell quiet. For once, she didn''t flirt back. She spoke in a serious tone, "What exactly do you plan to do once you take the throne? Assuming you manage it."


    I laughed, the sound carrying away on the wind. "If I couldn''t take over a kingdom with a dragon this fine," I continued with a smirk, "You should be ashamed of moaning for me last night."


    "Cheeky," she said, and I tightened my grip on her waist, making her breath catch. "So what''s your answer?¡±


    ¡°My plans are simple enough. Unite the realm under strong leadership, and make it relish. The greatest Empire under the sky. Not just by mere words, but rather making my subjects happier. Fixing the society we live in. Make the lifestyle better for people¡­ No more petty lords playing at kingship, among other things.¡± I spoke a bit more than I planned, but she didn''t seem to dislike it.


    "And the Iron Islands? Will you let us keep our ways?"


    "You''ve asked that before.¡±


    ¡°And how much of your answer did you mean?¡±


    I stayed silent for a moment and then said, ¡°As long as you raid any other continent than mine. The Free Cities have plenty of wealth to plunder. And honestly, I might give you missions to attack them myself. You''ll go on conquests under my command, and enjoy yourself while doing so.¡±


    Silence passed between us, and her posture relaxed a little. We stayed like that for a while until she asked, ¡°Remove my restraints already? It''s uncomfortable.¡±


    ¡°Nah, won''t look harsh enough to your people.¡±


    ¡°Aren''t we hours away from the Iron Islands still?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Nope, I think we''re pretty close-¡± my voice was cut off by thunder rumbling in the distance. We both stared at dark clouds looming ahead.


    Viserion growled, sensing the approaching storm. The air grew heavy with moisture, and wind began to buffet us from all sides.


    "We should land!" Yara shouted over the growing gale.


    "No time," I called back. "It''s too close to us, and it''s coming right this way. Viserion, try to fly around it!"


    Lightning split the sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. Viserion banked hard to avoid a particularly violent gust, and suddenly Yara''s grip slipped. Her eyes went wide as she tumbled sideways off the dragon''s back.


    ¡°DAMMIT!¡±


    "Yara!" I shouted, watching her plummet through the storm-dark air. There was no time to think; I called forth my Dragon Wings. Leather-like wings burst from my back, tearing through my clothes as I jumped from Viserion''s back and dove after her.


    The wind howled around me as I streamlined my body, gaining speed. Rain pelted my face like tiny needles, but I kept my eyes locked on Yara''s plummeting form. Her scream cut through the storm as I reached for her, my arms stretching through the tempest until finally catching her in my arms.


    Her eyes were huge as she stared at my wings, her chest heaving with panicked breaths. ¡°What the hell?!¡± She managed despite the situation while the golden sheen of my wings gleamed in the darkness.


    Above us, Viserion circled anxiously, her massive form barely visible through the sheets of rain. I could feel the dragon magic coursing through my veins, my partial transformation granting me strength beyond mortal limits as I held Yara secure against the battering winds. My wings, though smaller than Viserion''s, cut through the air with surprising efficiency, the beats fighting against the storm''s fury.


    ¡°Foo¡­lish¡­humans¡­!¡± Viserion roared louder than the thunder above us as she swooped down, her massive form a golden beacon against the storm-black clouds. I angled us toward her back, calculating the trajectory through the brutal crosswinds before landing hard but secure on her rain-slicked scales.


    Yara clung to me, her face pressed against my chest, her whole body trembling. I could feel her racing heartbeat even through the howling chaos of the storm, her fingers digging into what remained of my shredded shirt.


    When she finally looked up at me, her expression had changed. The usual defiance wasn''t there anymore, but there was something new. No conversation unfolded between us after that.


    The storm began to clear as we approached the edge of the mainlands. Dark tower peaks emerged from the mist, dark and forbidding against the grey sky. Yara''s body tensed against mine, for sure recognised her home better than mine. ¡°Pyke.¡±


    Through sheets of misting rain, the Pyke revealed itself ¨C a sight both magnificent and grotesque.


    The castle stood like a challenge to nature itself, sprawled across a series of small, rocky islands connected by swaying rope bridges and stone archways. The islands rose from the churning sea like the broken teeth of some ancient beast, each one crowned with towers of black stone.


    Viserion circled high above, giving me a perfect view of the castle''s impossible architecture. The Great Keep sat on the largest island, its walls weathered by centuries of salt spray and storm. Beyond it, towers reached skyward on increasingly precarious outcrops, each one seeming more likely to topple into the angry seas below than the last.


    "Your home is quite something," I said to Yara, who sat tense in front of me. The castle before us made Winterfell look positively welcoming in comparison.


    The surrounding Iron Islands dotted the horizon like dark smudges against the grey sea. Great Wyk, the largest, loomed to the south, while Harlaw''s more hospitable shores stretched to the east. I''d read and heard tales about them as Viserys, so I recognised them. Orkmont''s peaks pierced the cloud cover to the north, and Old Wyk''s sacred shores lay hidden in the morning mist.


    Waves crashed against the rocky cliffs hundreds of feet below, sending spray high into the air. The whole scene was full of wild, untamed energy that seemed to embody the Ironborn spirit itself.


    No wonder these people were so fierce, for they lived in a place that tried to kill them daily.


    "The Greyjoy words make more sense now, I guess," I said, taking in the harsh landscape. "What is dead may never die... in a place like this, death must feel like an old friend."


    Yara''s only response was a slight nod as we began our descent toward the Great Keep. The banners of House Greyjoy, the golden kraken on black, whipped frantically in the wind, as if heralding our arrival to the Iron Islands'' ancient seat of power.


    Yara spoke quietly, ¡°Brace yourself, Your Grace. Convincing my father is going to be troublesome. But trust me, I''m going to try my best. I don''t want him to make an enemy out of some weird draconic human.¡±


    ¡°Calling me weird is rude,¡± I retracted my wings and pulled her closer. ¡°Don''t worry about your father, even if he acts stubborn, I''ll take care of him. You just focus on your future role as the Iron Queen."


    Yara welt silent again as we descended toward the castle that would soon witness a clash between the old and the new.


    **


    **


    **


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 [59] The Iron King

    Chapter 59: The Iron King


    ¡ª


    Viserion''s wings cut through the misty air of the Iron Islands as she took us down a high bridge, rising high and circling above the dark castle of Pyke. To my eyes, it was a scene right out of a Souls Game, much more menacing than what the show showed.


    My dragon''s golden scales caught what little sunlight penetrated the thick clouds as we flew. Below us, Pyke''s inhabitants scurried like ants, their shouts of alarm carrying faintly on the wind.


    "They''re terrified," I noted with satisfaction, watching guards scramble across the precarious bridges connecting the castle''s towers. The way they were fleeing, I wouldn''t be surprised if they fell to their death. Not all fled, though.


    Some pointed crossbows skyward, while others simply gaped in disbelief.


    "Of course they are," Yara muttered from her position in front of me. "Most haven''t seen a lizard bigger than their palm, let alone a dragon. I feel bad for my men. Can you promise me something? Don''t kill unless necessary."


    I chuckled, guiding Viserion lower when we''d flown for long enough. We had to fly that long at least to make an impression. The sea breeze carried the sharp tang of salt and seaweed, mixing with the familiar scent of smoke from Viserion''s nostrils.


    "Where¡­ land?" my dragon asked out loud, her words tinged with irritation at the delay. Yara flinched in front of me, her grip tightening around my forearm, even though she''d already heard her speak before.


    "There," I pointed to the largest of Pyke''s four towers. Its flat top offered enough space for landing, though the guards stationed there might disagree. They scattered as Viserion''s shadow fell over them, her massive form blocking out what little sun remained.


    We landed with a ground-shaking thud, Viserion''s claws scraping against ancient stone as she let out a terrifying roar. Her aggressive nature helped me paint the danger more vividly. I liked that.


    The tower''s surface was slick with sea spray, but she maintained her footing easily. The guards who hadn''t fled pressed themselves against the walls, their weapons half-raised but their faces pale with fear.


    Then one of them recognized Yara.


    "Captain Yara!" he called out, taking a hesitant step forward. His relief at seeing her quickly turned to anger as he noticed her bound hands. His eyes then fell on me, and he seemed to lose all his senses as he shouted. "You dare restrain our Captain?!"


    Before I could respond, the fool charged forward with his sword drawn.


    I looked at Yara and shrugged. Then, I turned to the man. I didn''t even bother drawing my weapon, and simply backhanded him as he approached. The force of the blow sent him flying backward, over the tower''s edge. His scream faded quickly, lost in the crash of waves against the rocks below.


    "Seven hells," Yara sighed, shaking her head at the remaining guards. "Get out of here, you idiots. We''re here to speak with my father."


    "No need to send them away, daughter," a gravelly voice called out. It didn''t belong to any one of the guards. Heavy footsteps echoed up the tower''s spiral staircase, growing louder until Balon Greyjoy himself emerged onto the platform.


    He looked older than I remembered from the show, his face more weathered, his hair more grey than black. But his eyes were just as hard, the eyes of a sea-hardened Pirate. His eyes remained cold as they fixed first on me, then on his bound daughter, and finally on Viserion.


    The Lord Reaper of Pyke, who''d walked up with arrogance and pride, froze mid-step as his eyes slowly widened. His face drained of color as my dragon turned her massive head to regard him.


    Even a Pirate King feels fear. A thin smile spread across my lips as I watched the self-proclaimed king confront the reality of a living, breathing dragon.


    "Thank you for welcoming me in person, Lord Greyjoy," I said pleasantly. "Shall we discuss the future of your islands?"


    ****


    The stone chamber felt colder than it looked, though that might have been the tension in the air rather than the actual temperature. I sat in a plain wooden chair, one leg crossed over the other, watching the array of hostile faces before me.


    Yara stood beside me, bound and silent. The rope around her neck was a calculated insult that had the desired effect¡ªBalon''s men looked ready to murder me where I sat.


    Good. Let them seethe.


    Viserion was outside, perched atop the highest tower of Pyke like some great golden gargoyle. Her roars would echo through the castle every few minutes, making the ironborn flinch. It amused me to no end.


    I found the Great Hall of Pyke not as impressive as its exterior suggested. Salt-stained artwork depicting krakens and sea battles hung from walls of dark stone. It wasn¡¯t pretty to the eyes, but it did depict the ironborn¡¯s lethality.


    The Seastone Chair, that ancient throne of the ironborn, loomed behind where Balon sat glowering at me. His elite guards ¨C twelve of his most trusted killers ¨C formed a half-circle around him, hands never far from their weapons. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Well?" I broke the tense silence not ten seconds after taking my seat, my voice carrying an edge of boredom. "No tea for your guest, Lord Greyjoy? I expected better hospitality from the Iron Islands. From a Highlord to his King."


    Balon''s weathered face twisted in fury. "Who in the drowned god''s name are you, you silver-haired bastard? What right do you have to come here, to my castle, with my daughter bound like a common slave?"


    I smiled, giving the rope a gentle tug. Yara''s jaw clenched, she winced, but she remained silent. "I am Viserys of House Targaryen, Third of my Name, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and lastly, Protector of the Realm." I paused, enjoying the way his face darkened. "I''m here to educate you and your people on the new order of things. Your daughter is merely insurance."


    "Insurance?" Balon spat. He didn¡¯t question my identity again, for riding a dragon was proof enough. He rather chose to lash out about the comment on his daughter. "You dare-"


    "I dare quite a lot," I cut him off. "Your rebellion failed once before. Now you''ve tried again, sending your son to take Winterfell. That worked out poorly for everyone involved, wouldn''t you say? Theon rots in Winterfell¡¯s dungeons now."


    "The ironborn take what we want," he growled. "We do not sow. Theon failed because he¡¯s not a proper ironborn. He¡¯s been softened by House Stark."


    He could have defended himself by saying he didn¡¯t send his son there, and that Theon moved alone, but he didn¡¯t. He accepted his son¡¯s failure as his own, at least publicly before me, though I was certain he¡¯d disagree privately. It was respectable.


    "No, you don''t,¡± but I didn¡¯t care to give him that respect. He didn¡¯t deserve it, and I made it evident in my tone. ¡°You rape and reave and pretend it makes you strong. How did that work out last time? Remind me, how many sons did you lose in your failed rebellion?"


    One of the guards took a step forward, face red with anger. "You mock our dead-"


    "Your dead mocked themselves by dying for this fool''s pride," I replied calmly. "But I''m willing to be merciful. Bend the knee, and your people can still raid and reave ¨C just not in my kingdoms. That had been my discussion with Yara too, and she¡¯d agreed."


    Silence fell. Balon glared at Yara, who met his gaze steadily. Then he scoffed, looking away. For a fleeting moment, it looked as if the Lord of Pyke wondered if kneeling could save the Ironborn. But the thought must have burned hotter than the fire he feared, given his next words.


    "Never," Balon snarled. "We are ironborn. We kneel to no one."


    "The Free Cities have more wealth than the North," I noted. "Easier targets too. Think about it. Your ships could-"


    "Enough!" Balon stood, trembling with rage. His interruption made me smile. "You are no dragon. You¡¯re no king. Just a pretender with stolen eggs. The real dragons died out long ago!"


    Is he delusional? That ¡®You¡¯re no king.¡¯ bothered me far more than I¡¯d like to admit. It reminded me of Khal Drogo and how he¡¯d said it before trying to melt my brain with molten gold. I let out a sigh. "I don''t like your attitude. Remember what happened to Harrenhal? It''ll happen to Pyke. Right now it will, if I give the order to my dragon."


    His laugh was harsh and bitter. "Not if I kill you first. What''s a dragon rider without his dragon, you stupid bastard? It was your funeral when you chose to come to this meeting." He raised his hand. "All of you, attack!"


    The guards surged forward as one, weapons drawn. Yara closed her eyes and sighed as if disappointed but not surprised.


    I rose slowly, a sword materializing in my hand from thin air from Inventory. The first guard faltered at this display of magic, giving me the opening I needed. My blade took him in the throat, sending a spray of hot blood across the stone floor.


    The second and third came at me together, trying to flank me. I spun between them, my enhanced strength letting me parry both their strikes simultaneously. My counter-strike opened one from navel to sternum while my boot caught the other in the knee, shattering it with a wet crack.


    Four more rushed me. I danced through them like water, my blade finding gaps in armor, severing tendons, opening arteries. They were skilled killers, yes, but I was something else entirely. Their attacks seemed to come at half speed, their movements predictable and sluggish to my enhanced perceptions.


    One managed to nick my shoulder. I rewarded him by taking his sword arm at the elbow.


    In less than a minute, it was over. Eleven corpses lay cooling on the stones, their blood running in rivulets between the flagstones. The twelfth guard still lived, though he''d never walk again with that shattered knee.


    Messages spelling ¡®[You¡¯ve killed a human. You¡¯ve received experience points.]¡¯ filled my vision, but I waved it away. I didn¡¯t level up, unfortunately. Still Level 29.


    Balon sat frozen in his chair. All color drained from his face as he stared at the carnage. His trembling hand clutched the armrest of the Seastone Chair as if its ancient weight could anchor him against the storm of death unfolding before him. Yet even the chair seemed to recoil from the blood pooling at its base.


    His eyes held the same fear I''d seen when he first saw Viserion.


    I turned to Yara, casually wiping my blade clean on a dead man''s cloak. "Talk to your father, will you? Next thing he says that I don''t like, it''ll be his blood on the floor."


    Yara¡¯s eyes flicked over the carnage as if her stomach knotted at the sight of her father¡¯s folly. For all his bluster, Balon¡¯s pride had doomed better men than these. Her lips twitched at my words, caught between a sneer and a grimace.


    The father-daughter pair knew who owned the room then. And yet, it was clear that her heart ached for the men who¡¯d died, men who¡¯d followed her for years. Yara sighed and approached her trembling father, her bound hands held before her like an offering.


    I watched her walk across the blood-soaked floor, her wrists still bound but her spine straight. She didn¡¯t flinch at the corpses around us nor at the sticky warmth of fresh blood seeping into her boots. Every step she took toward Balon Greyjoy was harsh and full of purpose.


    ¡°Father,¡± she began calmly, voice firm despite her restraints. ¡°We need to change with the times. His Grace is giving us a path¡ª¡±


    ¡°Silence!¡± Balon spat, eyes bulging with outrage. His fear transformed into rage. ¡°My own daughter parroting the words of some dragon-wielding upstart?¡± He glanced at me, filled with loathing, then back to her. ¡°This is shameful.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not our enemy if we¡ª¡± she tried again, but Balon cut her off with a bitter snarl.


    ¡°Not our enemy? So you become his pet? His whore?¡± His laughter was hollow, echoing off the cold, salt-stained walls. ¡°Is that the Iron Price you pay¡ªrolling over for some Targaryen lizard?¡±


    I saw Yara¡¯s shoulders tense, but she refused to back down. ¡°The dragon is real, Father. We can¡¯t fight it.¡±


    That was too much for him. Balon lunged upright, towering over her. ¡°A weak little slut, that¡¯s what you are. Let him fuck the fight out of you?¡± His insults rolled off her like water. She stayed silent for a moment. But instead of cowering, she reached for the nearest table.


    Yara Greyjoy snatched a simple fruit knife in one sudden movement. Before he could blink, she buried the blade in his chest. Smooth, sure, final.


    Balon¡¯s eyes went wide, confusion battling fury on his face as blood spattered across Yara¡¯s bound hands. He staggered, clutching at the knife but clearly losing strength by the heartbeat.


    With a rasping gasp, the Lord Reaper of Pyke collapsed.


    His body struck the stone with a dull, wet thud.


    The Iron King was dead.


    Yara turned then, meeting my gaze. Blood trickled from her fingers, but her expression was calm. ¡°I killed my father for you,¡± she said, voice low. ¡°Think about that when you decide the fate of me and the Iron Islands, Your Grace.¡±


    I stepped over Balon¡¯s cooling form. Crimson pooled around our boots, but I barely noticed the slickness. My arms slid around Yara, pulling her in tight enough to feel her trembling breath against my chest. Even the hard-boiled Pirate Queen trembled when killing her father.


    ¡°You made the right choice,¡± I murmured, letting my lips brush her hair. ¡°Trust me, I¡¯ll remember this choice. You¡¯re a smart woman.¡±


    Her father¡¯s corpse lay behind us¡ªa pillar to the new order. The Iron Islands had a fresh ruler, one who knew how to take a life when it mattered. And with Balon¡¯s demise, my grip on these seas just tightened. It was almost final.


    **


    **


    **

 [60] Who’s The True Ruler of the Iron Islands?

    Chapter 60: Who''s The True Ruler of the Iron Islands?


    ¡ª


    The throne room at Pyke felt different now. Not warmer¡ªthese salt-stained walls never truly hold warmth¡ªbut changed all the same. The blood was scrubbed from the stones, though darker stains remained where it had seeped into the ancient rock. Balon¡¯s corpse had been hauled away for that sea-burial nonsense his people love so much.


    I stood at a narrow window, watching the waves heave and crash far below. They spattered brine on the glass, little flecks glinting in the dim light.


    Behind me, Yara was silent in a corner. The Ironborn elders and captains shuffled in, wearing masks of forced composure. They were here because I¡¯d summoned them, and they knew better than to ignore a man whose dragon still circled overhead.


    One of them cleared his throat in the hush, trying to muster courage he didn¡¯t have. ¡°Your¡­ Grace,¡± he rasped. He was an older captain with a split on his face that had never healed right. ¡°We need to discuss the succession.¡±


    It had been a whole day since their useless King had died, and their next attempts at revenge had been cut off in the bud. The bodies still littered the courtyard below, a grim reminder of what happened to those who thought they could challenge House Targareyn and its dragons.


    So there was no point in fighting anymore, was there? Even the most hardened raiders could see the futility written in ash and blood across their stronghold.


    But¡­ to be honest, the ironborn were stubborn, so it didn''t matter if there was no point in fighting. In a normal situation, they would have continued fighting even with their King dead. But I had Yara, and her direct order had stopped an army from charging into Viserion''s maw, even if I had killed a few dozen already.


    The golden dragon''s presence overhead was enough to make even the most zealous warriors think twice about their choices. Some had tried anyway, and their charred remains reminded of that particular brand of stupidity.


    The smell of smoke and salt mingled in the air, a fitting atmosphere for this new era in the Iron Islands'' history.


    These sea raiders would learn to bend, or they''d learn firsthand why my family''s words were "Fire and Blood."


    I turned away from the window slowly, letting my gaze sweep over the ragged assembly.


    There were two dozen men, all battered by a lifetime at sea, each wanting to shape the future of their damn islands.


    ¡°Discuss?¡± I drawled, tone full of boredom. ¡°Your king is dead. His rightful heir stands ready. What¡¯s there to prattle about?¡±


    An older man spat, ¡°A woman can¡¯t lead the Ironborn. It goes against all tradition! Plus, Prince Theon isn''t dead, is he?¡±


    ¡°What did you say, you bastard? I can''t lead?¡± Yara spoke up from the corner she''d been standing in, glaring at the man.


    ¡°Argh¡­¡±


    I let out a cold laugh. ¡°Yes, tradition. And how has that served you? Twice you rose in rebellion, and twice you¡¯ve been beaten down. And Theon? Theon would have been dead if not for his sister''s smart judgment of submitting. If you¡¯d like another demonstration of why you should submit, my dragon¡¯s more than willing.¡±


    Grumbles rippled through the crowd. I caught a few furtive glances toward the windows as though they expected Viserion¡¯s golden snout to come crashing in.


    Drumm, one of the more vocal idiots, snarled at my words. ¡°We don¡¯t kneel to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then, you burn,¡± I cut in, letting my tone grow icier. ¡°Is that your choice?¡±


    That shut him up. Fear is a handy leash.


    A younger captain found his voice, ¡°Captain Yara¡­ she¡¯s proven herself capable many times.¡±


    Drumm whirled on him with a sneer. ¡°Coward. Let that dragon¡¯s whore¡ª¡±


    I sighed and moved before his insult fully formed, my blade finding his throat in a swift, precise arc.


    Scarlet spattered across the men on either side of him, and Drumm collapsed with a wet gurgle, his so-called magic sword clattering to the floor.


    ¡°Anyone else want to question my Iron Queen¡¯s honor?¡± I asked, letting my blade drip. The hush that followed was absolute. From the corner of my eyes, I noticed Yara smiling to herself.


    A distant roar from Viserion rattled the windowpanes as if in agreement.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± I said, wiping the blade on Drumm¡¯s cloak. ¡°Now, we¡¯re done talking. Prepare for the coronation. The Drowned God awaits your spectacle.¡±


    I turned from them, attention drifting back to the view of grey waves smashing the rocks. ¡°Off you go. And make sure it¡¯s something I won¡¯t find too dull, as your guest.¡±


    The Ironborn exchanged glances, their eyes mixed with different emotions, and a moment later, hurried footsteps echoed behind me. That left me alone with the crash of waves and the scattered remains of their dead¡ªand Yara.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said as she walked behind me, hugging my back. ¡°You''re living up to your end of the promise.¡±


    ¡°I''m not a liar, Iron Queen,¡± I turned, holding her waist and looking into her eyes. She''d make a fine subordinate.


    ****


    The preparations took another day. These procedures were slow and gritty, after all.


    When I arrived, the sacred beach near Pyke was already crowded with Ironborn onlookers. Hundreds lined the shoreline, grim-faced beneath the weak sunlight.


    The tang of salt and seaweed was obvious in the air. Black waves pummeled the rocks, roaring their own defiance.


    I stopped near the water¡¯s edge, separate from the throng, while a screech came from behind. I turned back to find Viserion landing on a craggy outcrop that looked over this place. The ironborn trembled.


    She shimmered gold even in the dull light, the main reason the Ironborn dared not raise their swords now.


    A robed Drowned Priest, clothes heavy with brine, approached. That caused people to look away from Viserion and focus on him. His eyes glowed with that zealot¡¯s fervor as he raised his arms to hush the crowd. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°Brothers and sisters!¡± he boomed, voice cutting above the surf. ¡°We gather to fulfill the Drowned God¡¯s will!¡±


    A ripple of unease passed through the crowd¡ªtough men and women, yet not one dared break from the ring they¡¯d formed. Even with the wind howling, I heard their mutters of doubt and fear.


    Yara stepped forward, chin up despite the visible rope marks still etched into her wrists. She locked eyes with me for just a moment before facing her people, defiance laced in every line of her posture.


    I folded my arms while Viserion¡¯s colossal form cast a looming shadow across the Ironborn who¡¯d gathered.


    The salt-laden wind slapped my face, the waves crashing against the ancient stones like a dirge. It was a fitting stage for this show of power, one that these fools called a ritual.


    A lot of useless bantering unfolded before me, and I dozed off most of them. It was silly. The Drowned Priest stood front and center in the wet sand, water dripping off his matted hair and soaked robes now.


    He lifted his arms to the iron-gray sky, voice loud over the roar of the ocean. ¡°What is dead may never die!¡± came the priest¡¯s thunderous call.


    The crowd thundered back in unison, ¡°What is dead may never die!¡±


    He gestured toward Yara, and she began to strip away her armaments¡ªsword, daggers, a few hidden blades. I was surprised at how many hidden blades she had.


    Then she peeled off her outer clothing, leaving her in a clinging shift that the cold wind pressed tight against her. There were no illusions of rank here, no fancy cloak to hide behind, just a woman daring to claim the Iron Islands under her rule.


    Under my rule.


    ¡°The Drowned God demands proof of worth,¡± the priest said, voice full of the mania of religion. ¡°Through death, we rise. Through the sea, we are reborn.¡±


    Without prelude, he shoved her into the churning waves. Yara vanished beneath the dark water, swallowed in a single swift motion.


    Silence stretched as we waited. Only the crash of foam against rock filled the area. I found myself frowning. I¡¯d bet on Yara¡¯s stubborn spirit well before the sea could claim her, but I might be wrong.


    A minute passed. Then another. Whispers, uneasy, spread among the onlookers.


    ¡°Too long¡­¡±


    ¡°The sea rejects her¡­¡±


    My frown deepened. She¡¯s too willful to die now. In the show, they''d pulled Euron Greyjoy out of the water but didn''t do this for Yara. She was still in the water, her face submerged in it, her body floating as if she was dead. Perhaps they wanted her to prove her worth better as a woman. It annoyed me a little.


    But¡­ sure enough, the ocean exploded.


    Yara broke the surface in a burst of spray, hair plastered to her skin, chest heaving with savage breaths. Saltwater poured from her as she found her footing in the thigh-high surge, gasping for breath, blinking water from her eyes but never showing weakness.


    The priest¡¯s voice rose again, triumphant over the wind and the murmurs. ¡°Behold! The Drowned God judges her worthy! Rise, Yara Greyjoy, Queen of Salt and Rock! The Ruler of the Iron Islands!¡±


    A beat of hesitation caught in the crowd, then came the ragged chorus. ¡°Queen Yara! Queen Yara!¡±


    It built, moment by moment until the rocky beach reverberated with their chant.


    She staggered onto the shore, water streaming down her legs, her body trembling from the cold shock. Yet she refused to collapse. She remained upright by sheer force of will. That made me smile.


    I walked over as she finally sank to her knees in the wet gravel, fighting for breath. Crouching beside her, I pitched my voice just for her ears. ¡°Congratulations, Iron Queen. Once again, you''ve made the right choice.¡±


    A flicker of defiance and relief crossed her face. Then a faint grin, even as her chest still heaved. ¡°I¡­ I know.¡±


    The crowd¡¯s ¡°Queen Yara!¡± cries still beat against our ears, rising in waves like the sea itself.


    The priest came over, holding the Driftwood Crown in his hand. I straightened, moving away from her.


    Yara Greyjoy was officially crowned as the priest made his announcement.


    Meanwhile, Viserion sat on a black crag of rock, golden scales flashing in the dim, watery light. Her presence kept the Ironborn aware of the grim reality.


    Yara had faced the sea and lived. She now had the Iron Island¡¯s crown, and people called her the Queen. But all that was an illusion.


    The real victory here was mine.


    I''d taken down one of the Five Kings and made his daughter my Slave Queen.


    **


    **


    **


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 [61] The Salt Conquest

    Chapter 61: The Salt Conquest


    ¡ª


    The Great Hall of Pyke felt different with Yara on that ancient throne. The Seastone Chair loomed behind her like a kraken frozen mid-strike, its black surface drinking in what little light filtered through the narrow windows.


    I watched from my deliberately understated position as the Ironborn filtered in. Captains, raiders, and weathered old sea dogs¡ªtheir faces carved by salt spray and hardened by lives spent on merciless waves. They were hard men, strong soldiers, but sadly they were ironborn.


    Their eyes held a peculiar mix of resentment as they looked at me, but there was also fear. Where Ironborn didn¡¯t fear men, even the greatest men feared a dragon. With Viserion''s shadow occasionally darkening the windows as she circled overhead, it couldn¡¯t be a wonder why they kept themselves in check.


    Yara''s voice cut through the muttering crowd like a blade through silk when all the men were present, along with the few women who deserved to enter these great halls. "My father''s way led us to ruin twice, brothers and sisters," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "The Old Way ends today."


    Jaws clenched, and I caught more than a few hands tightening on weapon hilts. Old bastards never liked change, and it was no different here on these islands, either.


    "We are Ironborn," she continued, leaning forward on the ancient seat. "We take what we want. His Grace here has allowed us to keep that luxury. But we must be smarter about what we choose to take." Her eyes swept the crowd, challenging anyone to interrupt. Nobody dared. "The Seven Kingdoms are no longer our prey. Their dragons and armies would crush us if we even dreamed about it. Rather, we look east."


    ¡°What luxury? Robert Baratheon allowed the same, and we hate him for it. Did you forget, girl?¡± One of the elder ironborns said. ¡°During Robert¡¯s reign, we Ironborn were meant to abide by the laws of the Seven Kingdoms, which included refraining from raiding and pillaging within Westeros. Your father¡¯s rebellion twenty years ago was fueled by our frustration with these restrictions and our desire to reclaim the old ways of reaving along Westerosi coasts. What¡¯s so luxurious about this?¡±


    Another older captain with a face like cracked leather spat on the floor. "He¡¯s right. We must abandon our ancestral waters? Become foreign raiders?" His voice was full of contempt. "And all because this silver-haired boy commands it?"


    ¡°Yes, precisely. And the luxury here is that we don¡¯t die. You don¡¯t die. I begged for your lives, and you spit in my halls?¡± Yara glared at the man, who clenched his jaws, failing to find words to defend himself. ¡°Thousands died because of my father¡¯s rebellion, and less than a hundred died during this time. And even that is because you guys didn¡¯t listen to me fast enough, didn¡¯t drop the weapons fast enough. Are you really suggesting we clash swords with a dragon, you stupid bastards?¡± She growled, and both of the old men flinched back.


    A short silence later, someone cleared his throat. "But the east?" The word echoed, the young captain¡¯s confusion evident. ¡°We¡¯ve tried our luck there before, but¡­¡±


    "The Free Cities overflow with wealth," Yara breathed out her anger and smiled, and there was a predatory glint to it. "Their merchants grow fat and lazy, their ships poorly defended compared to Westeros. They do hire mercenaries, but what are mercenaries before the Ironborn? Why scratch at the bones of fishermen when we could feast on Essosi gold?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that look. I see your point. I have personally led multiple ships to Essos, more than most of you here, so I know it¡¯s not as easy as I say. But His Grace wants this. It¡¯s not that he¡¯s just allowing us half-heartedly, but he wants us to do this. He¡¯ll help us, he¡¯ll lead us, and he¡¯ll take over the Essosi Lands. Trust me when I say that his Empire will be greater than Aegon¡¯s." Yara finished her speech.


    I didn''t move from my seat but let my eyes meet hers. I smiled, liking how she handled this. She¡¯s a fine woman, I¡¯m attracted. Her dominance was applause-worthy. I let my gaze gloss over some of the older men, hardening it, and they looked away. They should know what it means to insult my woman. Should I teach them a lesson?


    "His Grace," Yara emphasized the title, calling me up from my glare as if realizing what I was thinking. "He offers us a chance not just to survive, but to thrive. Do you lots get it? The Drowned God cares not where we reave, only that we do so with strength and cunning."


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± an ironbron said.


    ¡°I see the logic too¡­¡± more and more began to agree with her.


    ¡°Great,¡± she said and stood, her presence somehow filling the massive chair''s shadow. "I am your Queen, chosen by the sea itself. The Iron Islands will adapt, or they will drown. In this situation, the choice is simple. Do you all agree?¡±


    Another captain stepped forward. "You''re queen because of him," he jabbed a finger in my direction. "His dragon burned our brothers!"


    "No, I''m queen because I understand what you don''t," Yara snapped. "His Grace is the true king of the Seven Kingdoms, the first Dragon Rider in hundreds of years. The blood of Old Valyria flows in his veins, the same blood that once ruled the greatest empire this world has known." Her voice softened, becoming almost seductive. "\We are ironborn, we¡¯re strong, and the Free Cities would tremble more than ever at the sight of our sails when they know a dragon flies over us."


    The assembly stirred, greed warring with tradition in their eyes. But I was bothered. How can they be so stubborn? They keep clashing opinions with her.


    I rose slowly, drawing every eye. "Your queen speaks wisdom," I said, mildening my tone. "Consider carefully how you receive it. For unlike her, I don¡¯t see you as my people and wouldn¡¯t hesitate to burn you to the ground if you misbehave."


    The threat hung clear as crystal. Viserion''s screech punctuated my words through the windows. Yara seized the moment to stop me from further scaring her men. "You heard him. Prepare your ships," she commanded. We sail east with the next tide. Those who wish wealth and glory, follow me. Those who don''t..." Her smile turned sharp. "Well, I''m sure the Drowned God welcomes all his children eventually."


    The captains began to disperse a short silence later, their faces a mix of resignation and calculating acceptance. No more outright anger showed¡ªthey''d learned that lesson well enough when Balon fell, and now everything was plastered on cement.


    Soon, as Yara reminds them of her might, they¡¯d be glad that Balon was dead.


    As the last footsteps faded, leaving the hall empty, I approached the Seastone Chair. ¡°It was a great speech, Yara,¡± I said to my Iron Queen, who remained seated, her knuckles white where they gripped the ancient arms.


    ¡°....¡±


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you responding?¡± I asked, and she just looked up, a frown on her face. I chuckled. Without warning, I grabbed her chin and claimed her mouth in a demanding kiss.


    She made a small sound of protest that quickly turned to a moan. Even now, that spark of defiance flickered in her eyes before drowning in desire. Her fingers clutched at my shoulders as she melted against me, every inch the fierce queen turned willing conquest.


    ****


    I thrust hard into Yara, allowing the world around us to blur into a haze of raw desire and primal need. My every movement was met with a responsive buck from her hips, turning me on further, encouraging me to delve deeper, to claim her more forcefully with each passing moment.


    My fingers were laced through hers as I fucked her from behind like beasts, pressing her hands into the soft furs that lined the bed. I pulled her by the arms a moment later, using them as leverage to slam into her with greater intensity, each stroke eliciting a gasp or a moan from her lips. ¡°Ohng, yes~! Harder, harder¡­ I am- my hips are going to break!¡±


    Her hips were going to break, she said, but she begged for more anyway. Her inner walls suddenly clenched tight around me, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure coursing through my body. I could feel the pressure building within me, an unstoppable force threatening to rip through me at any moment.


    ¡°Get me¨C¡± Yara''s cries of pleasure grew louder, more desperate, as she neared her own peak. ¡°Get me pregnant, fuck me into a mess!¡± I drove into her harder, faster as I also reached it. With a final, powerful thrust, I buried myself deep within her.


    My body shuddered as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me, the feeling of my seed spilling into her triggering her own climax. Her body convulsed beneath me, her moans of pleasure music to my ears. I let go of her hands, allowing her to collapse onto the bed as I withdrew from her, my own body spent and sated.


    I fell back against the furs, my chest still heaving from our latest round of passion. Shit, I actually came inside her. The air was full of the thick scent of sex and sweat, mingled with the ever-present salt tang that permeated every corner of Pyke.


    I closed my eyes briefly, realizing there was nothing to do here. A long minute later, I opened my eyes and found Yara stretching like a satisfied cat, her naked form glowing in the dim light filtering through the narrow window.


    She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look at me. Her tired eyes met mine, a lazy smile playing on her lips. "You''re insatiable, you know that?" she said, her voice soft and husky with lingering pleasure. ¡°What happens to me if I actually get pregnant?


    I chuckled, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "What can I say? You bring out the beast in me," I said, ignoring her second comment.


    Her smile widened, a hint of mischief flickering in her gaze. "Well, I certainly can''t complain about the results."


    I leaned in, capturing her lips in a lethargic kiss as my hand trailed down her body, tracing the curve of her hip. Gods, I loved toned women. It was rare that even after intense lovemaking, I found myself wanting this much more.


    But I knew we had matters to attend to, responsibilities that couldn''t be ignored, no matter how much I might wish to lose myself in her once again.


    I had to stay in control, so I let her go. A moment passed as we stared into each other, and something was calculating in her gaze now, different from the raw hunger of moments before. I knew that look. She wanted something.


    "Vis," she began, her voice still husky. "Now that I''m Queen... well, Highlady to be exact, but whatever. There''s something we need to discuss."


    I laughed softly. "You look serious."


    "I am. It''s about Theon,¡± she said.


    My amusement died. Of course, it was about her useless brother. I''d been waiting for this conversation since we took Pyke.


    "I want him released from Winterfell," she continued, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. "He''s suffered enough, hasn''t he? Being held prisoner in the place he once called home..."


    I caught her wandering hand, squeezing perhaps a bit harder than necessary. "I can''t control the North, you know? Forget about Theon and forget the men you took there, for they''re under Robb Stark''s rule. I can''t influence it."


    "But you said-"


    "Theon will live," I interrupted her, releasing her hand. "As a prisoner, perhaps a slave, but he will. In Winterfell, as he has been from a young age. He won''t die. I''ll send Robb a letter telling him about that. He''s definitely mad at Theon, but not enough to kill him if I request it. Although it¡¯s troublesome that Theon burnt two innocent children, we can say that your father manipulated him. That the ironborn who came with him did it."


    "Still..." Her voice held a note of protest, but I could see the resignation in her eyes.


    "Listen, he made his own decision. I understand your love for him as a sibling, but he¡¯s his own person. Plus, him being here will trouble your claim. The opposing men might manipulate him to stand against you. So let him live where he always has.¡±


    She fell silent, her lips pressed into a thin line. I knew she wanted to argue more, but she was smart enough to recognize when I wouldn''t budge. I mean, if I truly wanted, I could free Theon, but why should I?


    I leaned over, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss while my hands once again roamed her body, finding all the spots I''d discovered drove her wild. "Rather than that," I murmured against her lips, "I''ve heard that your uncle Euron Greyjoy is roaming the world. He has made quite a name for himself. Be careful of him, and if he comes, kill him immediately. If you can¡¯t, notify me about him as soon as you can."


    I couldn¡¯t risk Euron Greyjoy, he was an anomaly. Yara sighed, and her body melted against mine, her earlier tension dissolving under my touch.


    "Understood," she breathed between kisses. "My King..." said my Slave Queen who¡¯d do anything that I wanted, anything that would bring me benefit.


    **


    **


    **


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 [62] Flying Back Home

    Chapter 62: Flying Back Home


    ¡ª


    The ironborn forces honestly weren¡¯t as big as I¡¯d been thinking. Sure, their fleet looked impressive for a bunch of pirates, but it wouldn¡¯t really matter in the war that¡¯s about to go down in Westeros.


    A few thousand men spread across a hundred ships¡ªyeah, that¡¯s not much compared to the armies we¡¯ll see clashing soon.


    Which is exactly why I¡¯m letting them head off to raid the Free Cities instead, I thought, standing on a rocky ledge while workers bustled around the docks below. The smell of salt and tar hung in the air as they got the longships ready for their journey east.


    They¡¯d be wasted if I sent them against Stannis in Blackwater Bay. Maybe in another scenario, I''d have used them there, but come on, they''d just end up burning in wildfire, along with all of Stannis¡¯ people. It would be smarter to send them east where they might actually do something worthwhile, such as plundering money for me.


    Taking the throne was one thing, but paying back the insane debt the crown owned? That was a whole other war entirely.


    Viserion shifted under me, her golden scales catching the dull morning light. She¡¯d been getting restless; she always did if we stayed put too long. ¡°Boring... humans slow,¡± she grumbled.


    ¡°Patience,¡± I muttered, patting her neck. ¡°We¡¯ll get moving soon enough.¡±


    Below, the last crates and barrels were being hauled onto the ships. I saw Yara on the deck of her flagship, yelling orders at her crew. The Pirate Queen had ditched her usual leathers for something more heavy, though she still moved with that predatory grace I''d grown to like.


    I guided Viserion down the high sky, passing slowly over the gathering fleet. The ironborn all paused, looking up as my dragon¡¯s shadow slid across their faces.


    ¡°Once again,¡± I shouted, my voice carrying over the water, ¡°you¡¯re setting sail to prove yourselves. This time, I won¡¯t be going with you, for my presence is more valuable here. Use my absence to show me what the ironborn can really do. Prove you deserve that tough reputation you keep boasting about!¡±


    I heard them muttering among themselves. Some of them shot me nasty looks¡ªthese proud raiders hated being tested like this. But what could they do, really? Pick a fight with a guy who has a dragon?


    Our eyes met from a distance¡ªmine and Yara¡¯s. She gave me the smallest nod, and I knew we understood each other. She had to keep them in check, steer them toward good targets, and make sure they didn¡¯t get any bright ideas about returning to raid Westeros.


    I''d initially worried about Yara. These people loved and respected her but might try to pick on her after recent events. They might try to kill her.


    Fortunately, something very interesting appeared during our latest time in the bedroom.


    [Your first true mate, Yara, has adapted to your presence after you''ve ejaculated into her so many times. She''s come to accept you as her conqueror, her mate.]


    [In many fairy tales, people use a dragon''s human partner as his weakness to threaten him. To break him down by killing her. A dragon shouldn''t ever be disrespected in such a manner, for worlds have met their end because of lesser things.]


    [To protect your mate, you can now lend one of your Draconic Traits to her. The choice is up to you. Do not be worried; she¡¯ll lose access to the trait if you want to.]


    [Y/N]


    I hadn''t decided yet, letting myself sleep over the decision.


    But now that I saw her moving her fleet for me, I was sure what to choose.


    [Congratulations, you''ve chosen ¡®Yes¡¯! You can now lend one of your traits to Yara Greyjoy.]


    [Available Traits:


    Dragon Wings (Click to Lend)]


    [Good choice! Your Mate Yara Greyjoy can now access Dragon Wings. You can still use it, too, even if it¡¯s at the same time as she does. Once again, if you want, you can also stop lending it to her.]


    [Would you like to lend your experience on how to use these wings to her too, or have her find it by herself?]


    [Y/N]


    There was no meaning in holding back the experience since the whole point in doing this was so that she remained safe.


    I watched as Yara¡¯s eyes twitched and her knees gave in. She fell, clutching her head tightly, while a few men rushed to her to see if she was alright.


    A minute passed as Yara waved them off, breathing heavily as she looked up at me. ¡°You...¡± She looked at me and realized it wasn''t a coincidence. I was the one who did this to her.


    This was a great boon, and I barely held back my excitement at having such power. The problem with strong people always was that he often had weaker people around him. With this ability? It wouldn''t be the case. Although I was unsure if this would work for the non-virgins too¡­


    She stared at me, her eyes full of wonder, before we exchanged one last nod. She realized why I''d lent her such power.


    The first ships drifted off the docks, oars dipping into the cold water.


    Sails unfurled, black cloth stamped with the golden kraken of House Greyjoy catching the morning breeze.


    Viserion flexed her wings, ready to fly. I had my own business to care for, things in King¡¯s Landing wouldn¡¯t sort themselves out. It was almost time for Stannis¡¯ attack.


    ****


    The wind slapped at my face as Viserion soared through clouds that looked like cotton stretched across an endless blue sky. We¡¯d been flying for hours, leaving the Iron Islands far behind. The afternoon sun lit up her golden scales, shimmering in crazy shades.


    Down below, Westeros sprawled out like a live map. Forests, hills, and rivers were all woven together, though the Riverlands looked pretty beat up from all the fights. Scorched fields and burned-out husks of villages dotted the landscape, telling silent stories of Lannister raids and Northern counter-attacks.


    The destruction seemed almost artistic from up here, like someone had taken a torch to an elaborate painting. Not that the common folk down there would appreciate that comparison.


    The sight reminded me why I needed to move fast. Every day of war meant more villages turned to ash, more resources wasted on petty lords playing their game of thrones. At least I had a dragon¡ªthat tends to speed up negotiations.


    ¡°Smell¡­ humans,¡± Viserion growled, turning her big head slightly. ¡°Many¡­below.¡±


    She was right. Robb Stark¡¯s army was camped all across the area, tents dotting the land like ant hills, as I remembered.


    As we dropped lower, I saw soldiers pointing up at us, but the wind yanked their shouts away before they reached me.


    Viserion landed with a heavy thud in a clearing near the main camp, letting out a roar to greet them. Many soldiers fell back, while most hung back like they weren¡¯t sure if they should bow or run, but at least they didn¡¯t look too freaked out. News must¡¯ve spread that I¡¯d been helping the North, as I''d agreed.


    ¡°Make way!¡± someone shouted. I turned to see Robb Stark heading over with many Northern lords at his back. There was no Catelyn¡ªso she was probably locked up by now. They had no choice but to do something after that Jaime fiasco.


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± Robb said, his tone warm but still formal. The Young Wolf looked more like a king than the last time we met. That nurse who''d cursed his fate in the original was beside him this time. ¡°We didn¡¯t expect you so soon. I take it that things went alright in the Iron Islands?¡±


    ¡°Better than I expected,¡± I said, hopping off Viserion. ¡°The ironborn got themselves a new ruler. Balon Greyjoy is dead.¡±


    That brought on a round of gasps from the lords. Lord Umber¡¯s bushy eyebrows practically jumped off his face. ¡°Dead? How?¡±


    His own daughter did it, but people didn''t need to know that. The Ironborn didn''t know that either, otherwise they''d have called Yara a traitor. ¡°I did it,¡± I answered casually, liking how shocked they looked. ¡°Yara Greyjoy rules now, having submitted under my authority.¡±


    ¡°Seven hells,¡± someone muttered, and another spat.


    Being the practical rule he was, Robb asked, ¡°And their fleet?¡±


    "They''re sailing east to raid the Free Cities. They''re done bothering the North," I replied, locking eyes with him. A slight smirk played at my lips as I added, "Your shores are safe now, and they''ll be bringing their particular brand of chaos to different targets that aren''t us. Anyway, that''s why I''m here. Yara made me swear that her brother wouldn''t be executed, so I''m asking you to let him live. He''s in your dungeons, the last where I left him.¡±


    Robb''s face went stiff at my words, torn between feeling betrayed and remembering the friend he grew up with. ¡°Well¡­¡±


    I could tell he didn''t really want Theon dead, pride or not. The young wolf had that same look I''d seen on countless faces before, the struggle between duty and emotion, between what people thought they should do and what they actually wanted to do.


    It was always entertaining to watch.


    Lord Karstark stepped forward, face going red with anger. ¡°That turncloak should die! He killed innocent children!¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± Lord Glover chipped in. ¡°The North remembers.¡±


    Then Bolton, that sneaky bastard, spoke up. ¡°A live hostage is worth more than a dead traitor. The boy¡¯s already suffered a lot down there. If you allow me, I¡¯d inform my bastard to handle him.¡±


    Several lords nodded, and I saw Robb relax just a bit. He finally found an excuse. I found that pleasing, as well. Ramsay Bolton was a freak, but he¡¯d break down Theon well, even if not as devastating as the original timeline since the Ironborn were an ally now. But this way, the Iron Queen¡¯s brother will never stand against her.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Robb said at last. ¡°Because of our alliance and for the sake of who he used to be, Theon will live. But he stays locked up until the war ends.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all I need,¡± I said with a grin, offering my hand. Robb shook it firmly.


    "What about... my sister?" he asked, slightly unsure. "Is Sansa safe? I got report from the Maester already, but I want to know from you." His eyes searched mine, desperate for reassurance about his beloved sister''s fate, starving to know how our relationship had grown in that time.


    He''d be disappointed.


    Family meant everything to the Starks; it was both their greatest strength and their biggest weakness. A fact I''d learned to appreciate.


    "She''s good since she''s in her home," I said, watching his face carefully. "Winterfell is cold, but she''s happy there between Bran and Rickon. Last I saw, she was teaching the younger one how to embroider, though he seemed more interested in throwing the needles at the practice dummies when she wasn''t looking." I let out a small chuckle, remembering the scene. "Your sister''s strong, Robb. Made of the same steel as the rest of you Starks."


    He let out a breath like a huge weight was gone, his shoulders visibly relaxing. He still looked a little unsatisfied, probably because I didn''t drop any personal idea about Sansa, but he accepted it. "Thank you. Really. For all you''ve done for the North. We won''t forget it."


    Some more thank-yous and praises got tossed around, the usual diplomatic niceties that came with being royalty. I played along, but I noticed Viserion shifting beneath me, her muscles tensing with growing impatience.


    My beautiful dragon never cared much about human ceremonies, and soon, it was time to go. I adjusted my position and climbed properly onto her back, feeling the familiar warmth of her scales against my legs. With a final, deliberate nod at Robb, I gripped her spines tight. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Until next time, King in the North." The words carried just the right mix of respect and authority. After all, we were equals now, at least on paper.


    But for how long, Robb should wonder.


    Viserion spread her magnificent wings, golden membranes catching the cool northern light. With a single, powerful thrust that kicked up dust and made the nearby horses whiny in fear, we lifted off into the crisp air.


    I watched the Stark army grow smaller below us, along with whatever fate awaited Theon in his cell. Some problems were better left behind on the ground.


    It was time to return to King¡¯s Landing.


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: Sorry for the lack of updates guys, been sick lately. Among some other personal stuff.


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 [63] Toward the Throne, Back Home

    Chapter 63: Toward the Throne, Back Home


    ¡ª


    ¡ºIn Essos¡»


    After attending that scary meeting where the Thirteen were betrayed and killed by Pyat Pree and Xaro Xhoan Daxos, Dany stood outside the House of the Undying.


    She eyed the ancient stones that seemed to throb with a weird, unsettling energy.


    The twisted spire reached up like some gnarled finger, beckoning her in. Her heart hammered in her chest as she stepped through the entrance, knowing her children were hidden away somewhere inside.


    The corridors bent and shifted all around her, tossing out any idea of logic. It was mind boggling.


    One second she was moving forward, the next she found herself going sideways or even upward through impossible hallways. Pyat Pree¡¯s magic had twisted the place into a maze of illusions.


    Strange visions hit her senses hard¡ªshe saw the Iron Throne buried under a layer of snow, standing alone in a wrecked throne room.


    The Red Keep lay in ruins, its grand walls turned to rubble.


    Then¡­ she spotted Drogo, her sun and stars, holding their son Rhaego. The sight made her heart clench as she walked to them. They pulled at her. Her heart told her to sit down with them. But¡­ she reminded herself they were just images meant to chain her here.


    Her dragons¡¯ cries led her deeper into the warlock¡¯s lair. She found them chained and helpless, their wings pinned tight.


    Pyat Pree stepped from the shadows, his blue lips twisted in a mean grin, bragging about how their presence fueled his magic. He figured he had won, thought he could keep her and the dragons trapped forever.


    But he hadn¡¯t counted on a mother¡¯s bond with her children.


    One word from her, ¡°Dracarys!¡± and her dragons spewed fire, roasting the warlock right where he stood. His screams echoed through those warped halls as Daenerys shattered the chains holding her babies.


    She''d won, and her two children were back to her embrace.


    Later on the same day, Daenerys faced the other end of this whole plot. A betrayal.


    Xaro Xhoan Daxos, the man who had sworn his love and given her a place in Qarth, had actually been plotting against her with one of her own handmaidens. They had stolen her babies together!


    His fancy vault, which he¡¯d bragged was stuffed full of treasure, turned out to be just as empty as his words. She locked them both inside it, letting them taste the fate they¡¯d planned for her.


    With whatever wealth they scraped up in Qarth, Daenerys led her khalasar out of the city.


    The wind stung her face as they traveled, carrying the smell of salt from the endless seas. Even though her people started getting restless, she stayed focused on the road ahead. Each day, her dragons grew stronger, their wings stretching wider, their cries echoing further across the water. Whenever she watched them fly, she thought of Drogo¡ªnot with that raw stab of sorrow anymore, but with the softer understanding that his strength lived on through her.


    Daenerys¡¯ life hadn''t been easy lately, but she didn''t stop winning.


    ****


    The sun beat down hard as Dany made her way through Astapor¡¯s streets, her silver hair shining under the brutal light.


    ¡°What a sight amid this horror,¡± she said. The city¡¯s red brick walls seemed to lock in all the heat, turning the air thick and hard to breathe.


    Sweat slid down her neck, but she kept her head high, aware of every gaze that followed her.


    Jorah walked beside her, his hand always near his sword. The place reeked of fear and misery, with slaves¡¯ cries mixing with their masters¡¯ shouts.


    Everywhere she looked, there were some new horror. Poor kids in chains, old men staggering under heavy loads, women with empty stares.


    ¡°The Unsullied are in the barracks up ahead,¡± Jorah said quietly.  S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°I know, Ser. We visited it yesterday, I''m not a child to forget the path this fast,¡± she said, and See Jorah rubbed the back of his head.


    The unsullied. She was interested in them. Eight thousand men ready to be bought.


    Dany¡¯s stomach twisted at what these men must¡¯ve gone through. She¡¯d heard the stories¡ªboys ripped from their mothers, turned into killers through torture and starvation until obedience was all they knew.


    Kraznys mo Nakloz waited at the training grounds, dragging his ornate outfit across the dusty ground. Beside him stood his translator, a young girl with huge golden eyes standing quietly at his side.


    ¡°The Westerosi whore returns,¡± Kraznys sneered at Valyrian, his voice dripping with contempt. The translator froze at his insults, but Daenerys caught every filthy word. She knew that language better than him. ¡°Maybe she¡¯s finally figured out she can¡¯t play at war with just her tits out.¡±


    Dany kept her face blank as the translator cleared her throat and turned his insults into polite Common Tongue. A nice girl, that one.


    She decided to take that girl with her before leaving. Speaking of leaving¡­ it''d have to wait. Her plans needed a bit more time to unfold. Her babies had to grow a bit more.


    ¡­.


    Two days later, Dany walked along the seawall, the salty breeze barely cutting through the heat.


    Having Jorah nearby felt reassuring as they chatted while walking, though she knew better than to rely too much on one person¡¯s loyalty.


    A child¡¯s voice called out behind them, ¡°Your Grace! Your Grace!¡±


    Daenerys turned to see a small girl running toward her, clutching a fancy wooden ball.


    The girl¡¯s smile seemed harmless enough, but something about it raised Daenerys¡¯s hair. She didn''t think too much about it, deciding to shake it off.


    The child rolled the ball toward her, and Dany crouched to grab it. She watched the girl motion her to twist the ball.


    It seems like a gift? Dany wondered as she twisted the ball.


    Before she could see what was inside, however, a blur caught her eye. A stranger clad in dark clothes, his white-hair barely visible, knocked the ball from the child¡¯s hands, his sword flashing in the sunlight.


    ¡°Ah!¡± Dany fell to the floor because of the suddenness of the situation, and the wooden sphere split open on impact.


    A scorpion-tailed creature jumped out, its stinger glinting.


    On seven hells! It leaped toward her, and Dany¡¯s eyes slammed shut in fear. When she reopened them, she found an old warrior¡¯s blade cutting the manticore clean in two.


    ¡°Stop!¡± He didn¡¯t stop there, rushing after the girl¡ªthe assassin¡ªwho jumped into the water.


    But no water splashed.


    The warrior rushed to find her missing, and his head snapped to the side. Dany¡¯s eyes followed. High above, the girl stood, staring down. When Dany¡¯s eyes met hers, she screeched, revealing blue teeth.


    ¡°The Warlocks¡­¡± Dany muttered as the girl vanished into the crowd before anyone could react.


    "Khaleesi!" Jorah yelled, whipping out his sword and putting himself between her and the stranger. "Stand back!"


    The warrior looked at them and slowly removed the hood, revealing his old face. Jorah froze before slowly stepping in front of her, his eyes wide.


    ¡°Do you¡­¡± Dany started, ¡°Do you know him?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, ¡°I know him. One of the greatest fighters the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen, Ser Barristan Selmy.¡±


    The old man took a knee, resting his sword at her feet. His lined face lifted, revealing eyes filled with wisdom and regret. Daenerys studied him carefully, noting the proud set of his shoulders despite his age and how he held himself like a man who had spent his life serving kings.


    "Your Grace," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a lifetime. "I''m the retired Lord Commander to Robert Baratheon''s Kingsguard. And before that, I served your father and promised to protect your family. So I offer you my sword to serve the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms."


    His weathered hands trembled slightly as they rested on the pommel of his blade, but his gaze remained steady and unwavering as he met her eyes, waiting for her judgment.


    Like that, Dany earned an immensely powerful ally.


    ****


    ¡ºBack in Westeros¡­¡»


    For some reason, I wondered what my sister was up to lately when Viserion¡¯s claws slammed into the ground with a heavy thud.


    The impact rattled my legs, and it made me realize how drained I was from this long flight.


    We¡¯d landed in a small clearing maybe an hour¡¯s ride from King¡¯s Landing. Night clung to everything like a thick blanket, stars peeking through little gaps in the clouds.


    Night was good because it meant many people, if any, saw Viserion.


    The capital¡¯s lights glowed faintly in the distance, kind of an orange smear against the dark sky.


    I slid off Viserion¡¯s back, boots crunching on grass that had a thin layer of frost. The chill bit at my cheeks, but I barely noticed. After flying through clouds, regular old cold felt like nothing.


    I snapped a finger and formed a gate to [House of Dragons], a dark crack in the world.


    ¡°Girl, time to disappear,¡± I said, nodding toward the space next to us. ¡°No need for you to be spotted near the city.¡±


    Viserion turned her big head, gold scales still catching the faint moonlight. ¡°Why¡­hide?¡± she growled, that usual defiant tone mixed with a dash of curiosity.


    ¡°Because we have to be smart,¡± I replied, reaching up to pat her snout. ¡°Stannis is going to attack soon¡ªmaybe a month at best. I¡¯ve already sent word to Dorne and the Reach long ago, telling them to get their armies moving.¡± I gave a small grin, remembering the letters. ¡°They¡¯ll take a while to get this far north, but once they do¡­¡±


    ¡°Boring,¡± Viserion grumbled, her warm breath washing over me. She leaned in so close her snout almost bumped my nose. ¡°Want¡­ fight¡­ now!!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but laugh at her impatience.


    Her attempt at being scary was kind of cute, like a cat hissing at its owner. ¡°You¡¯ll get your fight soon enough. And once we¡¯ve got the throne, you¡¯ll fly wherever you please, hunt whatever you want. So just listen to me and go inside?¡±


    She made a huffing sound, a curl of smoke drifting from her nostrils, but I could see her thinking it over.


    With a final, slightly grumpy growl that was more whine than threat, Viserion stepped through, her big form vanishing into the darkness before the portal snapped shut.


    The night was quiet after Viserion left. I found a small cave far from the place I landed on and made camp, deciding to take a rest.


    A quick check of my Inventory produced dried meat, bread, and a skin of wine, simple fare, but enough to keep my strength up.


    I sat near the entrance, watching the stars wheel overhead while picking at my meal. The wine wasn''t great, just something I''d grabbed from Pyke''s cellars, but it helped wash down the tough meat.


    My thoughts drifted to the capital, wondering what changes I''d find. News traveled slowly in this world, but not slow enough. I''d been gone for weeks dealing with the Ironborn, so much might have happened.


    Sleep came easily enough on my bedroll, though I kept one hand near my weapon out of habit. The sounds of night creatures and rustling leaves made for decent company.


    Dawn broke grey and cool. I packed up quickly, checking my appearance in a small mirror from my inventory. The silver-white of my Targaryen hair was hidden under a dark wig, and common clothes replaced my usual attire. Just another traveler on the road.


    The walk to King''s Landing took several hours. My boots kicked up dust from the Kingsroad as the sun climbed higher, burning off the morning mist.


    Other travelers passed now and then, merchants with loaded carts, farmers bringing goods to market, the occasional patrol of gold cloaks.


    No one gave me a second glance. Just how I wanted it.


    The capital''s walls rose before me, as imposing as ever. The guards at the gate barely looked up from their game of dice as I passed through with a group of merchants. No questions asked, no suspicions raised.


    I allowed myself a small smile. All that worrying about returning had been for nothing.


    The city felt the same as when I''d left it. Crowded, stinking, alive with its usual chaos.


    That sense of relief lasted until I reached my mansion in the better part of town. Two Kingsguard stood at attention outside the door, their white cloaks pristine in the midday sun.


    I stopped dead in my tracks, mind racing through possibilities. ¡°....¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± One of them turned, catching sight of me. "¡­Sellsword, what great timing," he called out, and I recognized that voice to be Meryn Trant. "We''ve been waiting for you."


    My hand itched to reach for a weapon, but I kept it still. What the fuck happened? This could go very wrong, very quickly.


    **


    **


    **

 [64] A Queen’s Gambit

    Chapter 64: A Queen''s Gambit


    ¡ª


    The ropes bit into my wrists as the Kingsguard shoved me forward.


    I kept my head down, the scratchy wool of the wig itching my scalp. It annoyed me, but I ensured it. The crowd pressed close on all sides, fishmongers stinking of yesterday¡¯s catch, washerwomen clutching baskets, merchants pausing their haggling to gawk. Their whispers slithered around me like snakes.


    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Dunno, looks like an average cutthroat.¡±


    ¡°Must be some big criminal if he¡¯s being captured by King¡¯s Guards personally.¡±


    They don''t know who I am? I tuned them out, scanning the sea of faces instead. I didn¡¯t know if there was anybody inside back in the mansion. If there were, they would have come outside when I was getting captured. Where were they?


    I didn¡¯t find them amid the crowd, either.


    No sign of Nymeria¡¯s coiled braids or Tyene¡¯s poison-sweet smile. Kinvara¡¯s crimson robes would¡¯ve blazed like a signal fire in this drab mob.


    Had they been taken? Slaughtered? My jaw tightened. Kinvara can¡¯t possibly die, that wouldn''t make sense.


    The only reason I hadn¡¯t slaughtered the two guards and flown away was so that I could make sure they were alright. That was why I let these fools drag me to the castle.


    A sharp gasp cut through the murmurs.


    My eyes flicked toward the source, and I found Ros standing frozen near a painting seller¡¯s stall, one hand clamped over her mouth. The violet silk draped over her arm trembled, and she looked ready to break down into years.


    I shook my head once, a tiny motion, and smiled. Why''s she panicking so much? Stupid girl.


    She watched my gesture, then spun away, silk fluttering from her grip like a wounded bird.


    From the looks of it, from the crowd¡¯s reaction, news of me being the Ghost of Targaryen hadn¡¯t spread.


    The guards going as far as tying my hands was a bad thing, but it didn¡¯t necessarily mean that I was exposed. It could be because of something else.


    If not, then a whole army would have been sent to me, not two King''s Guard.


    ¡°Move,¡± grunted Meryn Trant, prodding my ribs with the hilt of his sword. My eyes twitched. The other guard was behind me as we ascended the serpentine steps to the Red Keep.


    Their armor reeked of lemon oil and arrogance, and I noted to myself to kill them when the time would come.


    Stone gargoyles were hanging from the vaulted ceilings as we marched past the throne room. It was empty.


    I half-expected Cersei Lannister to stage her little performance there, perched on that absurd chair of swords. But she nor her son was present here.


    The guards steered me toward the royal apartments instead, past artworks of dead stags and golden lions on the wall.


    A few minutes later, Meryn hammered his fist against an oak door banded with iron. ¡°Your Grace. We have the mercenary you asked for.¡±


    A beat of silence passed. My guess that it was Cersei who''d sent them after me was confirmed immediately. I was starting to consider a different possibility behind this whole situation¡­


    ¡°Send him in,¡± a reply came a short second later. ¡°Alone.¡±


    Meryn exchanged glances with the other guard and shrugged. He pushed, and the door creaked open.


    Cold lavender water flooded my senses as I crossed the threshold. Cersei¡¯s private sanctuary, all Myrish lace and gilded mirrors. The guards didn¡¯t follow.


    The door clicked shut behind me.


    I didn''t flinch, observing the chamber. It reeked of Lannister gold¡ªgilded mirrors catching the afternoon sun, Myrish carpets swallowing every footstep, windows taller than castle gates streaming light over damask drapes worth more than a lord¡¯s ransom.


    My boots sank into the carpet¡¯s plush weave as I took stock of the room. A carved mahogany table held crystal decanters of wine, their ruby contents catching the light.


    More artworks depicting lions mauling stags lined the walls. Typical.


    Her voice slithered across the room before I saw her. ¡°Vis of the Second Sons?¡±


    I turned.


    She lounged on a velvet divan angled toward the hearth, one knee drawn up.


    A silk robe the color of freshly spilled blood pooled around her hips, barely clinging to her shoulders. The fabric was sheer enough to silhouette the curve of her waist, and the pale swell of her breasts. She might as well have been naked at that moment.


    A handmaiden knelt beside the couch, her head bowed as she smoothed oil over Cersei¡¯s thigh¡ªjasmine, sharp and cloying.


    The queen¡¯s skin glistened under the glaze, damp blonde hair clinging to her neck.


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± I greeted her with a smile.


    She smiled back. ¡°You have been absent from the city, Vis,¡± she said, swirling wine in a golden goblet. Her eyes, poison-green, always measuring, went over my common clothes, the cheap wig itching my scalp. ¡°Off playing hero in the North, hm?¡±


    ¡­She suspects me. But that doesn''t make sense. Why would she send only two guards if she suspected me? I was confused.


    I kept my face slack, shaking my head. ¡°North? That''s too far. I was simply hunting, Your Grace. Boars near Kingswood. Got lost for a bit, but don''t worry, I didn''t actually go inside the forest.¡±


    A laugh, low and mocking. ¡°Boars. How thrilling. King Robert died to a boar.¡± The handmaiden¡¯s fingers worked higher up her thigh, kneading the oil into milky skin. Cersei¡¯s breath hitched, just barely, as if she was holding back a moan. It made my eyes twitch. ¡°Tell me, sellsword. Did your hunt include stealing Stark girls from under my son¡¯s nose?¡±


    She definitely knew.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t say,¡± I shrugged. ¡°Heard some ghost story about a silver-haired man with wings. Madness, if you ask me.¡±


    Her nails tapped against the goblet. The handmaiden¡¯s thumb brushed the inner seam of Cersei¡¯s thigh, and the queen bit back a moan. ¡°Mm¡­ Enough,¡± she said, voice tight. The girl froze. ¡°Leave us. And, uh,¡± she lowered her voice, ¡°tell the guards outside to find somewhere else to loiter.¡±


    The handmaiden¡¯s cheeks flushed as she scrambled to her feet, clutching the oil jar to her chest. She scurried past me without raising her eyes, the door sighing shut behind her.


    ¡°By the way,¡± I ignored the situation and started. ¡°Where is Priestess Nyra? And my other companions.¡±


    Cersei took a long drink, wine staining her lips as she smiled. ¡°Your priestess,¡± she said, languid. ¡°The red whore. Why ask about her? Planning a prayer?¡±


    ¡°Just polite concern.¡±


    ¡°How dull.¡± She set the goblet down and leaned back, the robe slipping lower. This whore was testing my patience. ¡°They¡¯re alive. For now. Though that one with the snake tattoos has a mouth that needs¡­ correction.¡±


    Nymeria. I flexed my fingers, holding my jaws back from tightening. ¡°Generous of you to house my companions, Your Grace.¡±


    ¡°Generosity has nothing to do with it.¡± Cersei rose, silk whispering as it slid against her skin. ¡°You¡¯ve made quite the impression, Vis. The way they speak of you in the streets¡ªghost, demon, king.¡± Her laugh was honeyed venom. ¡°But here you are. Just a man. Tied.¡±


    She walked even closer, and the jasmine oil clogged my throat.


    She tilted her head, studying my face. ¡°Take off that ridiculous wig.¡±


    "...Hands tied, Your Grace," I said. "Why not help me?" I asked, and she stared. She reached up a moment later and peeled the itchy thing away.


    My silver hair tumbled free, swaying in the air, framing my face as I looked down at her.


    Cersei¡¯s lips parted. Not out of surprise. She was expecting this. Rather, there was hunger in her eyes. ¡°Better.¡± Her finger traced the line of my jaw. ¡°Now we¡¯re being honest.¡±


    ¡°You really think I¡¯m him?¡± My voice dropped, and the Targaryen cadence slipped through as I tilted my head.  Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Sunlight caught the silver strands of my hair, turning them to liquid mercury.


    Cersei¡¯s tongue darted over wine-stained lips as she searched for her words. ¡°The dragon circling Winterfell. The Sand Snakes skulking through Flea Bottom. That red witch lighting fires in the Sept¡¯s shadow.¡± Her laugh was a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. ¡°You¡¯re not the Seven¡¯s idea of a cruel joke, sadly. I''d have preferred that, but you''re not your brother, are you, Viserys Targaryen?


    I chuckled, dropping all the act. ¡°Here I thought Varys¡¯ little birds would¡¯ve been the first ones to find me. Not the dumb queen.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I drowned their songs in honey.¡± She drifted closer, the robe gaping. ¡°Gold for the Spider¡¯s favorites. Whispers of Tyrell plots for Baelish¡¯s whores. Children make such noise when you dangle new toys. All of my attention was on you.¡±


    Her scent, jasmine and poison, coiled around me as I let her circle, a lioness sizing up wounded prey.


    How hilarious.


    ¡°So all this,¡± I gestured to the empty chamber, the distant clank of guards, ¡°is your clever trap?¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡± Her finger trailed down my bound wrist. ¡°A lioness does love a good hunt.¡±


    ¡°Yet here you stand,¡± I murmured, voice hard. ¡°alone with a dragon.¡±


    She stiffened, blinking. For a heartbeat, fear flickered in those poison-pool eyes. Then she spun away with a scoff, silk hissing against her skin. ¡°Your hands are tied, little dragon. You don''t know where your stupid friends are, perhaps an inch away from execution, and thousands of guards surround you. Would you dare touch a hair on my head? One shout and¡ª¡±


    A dagger materialized in my palm as the ropes fell slack. I moved faster than her breath¡ªone hand snatching her throat, the other catching the falling goblet mid-air.


    It vanished into my [Inventory] before it could clatter.


    ¡°¡ªand what, you dumb whore?¡± I shoved her face-first into the mattress, knee pressing between her shoulder blades.


    ¡°Yo-¡± A strip of linen appeared in my grip, jammed between her teeth before she could scream. ¡°Mmhmmmgh!¡±


    I grumbled, ¡°You¡¯ll die a million times before those fools outside blink, bitch.¡±


    She thrashed, muffled curses vibrating against the gag. My free hand yanked her hair, exposing the pale curve of her neck, my dagger trailing just one drop of blood.


    What a stupid little bitch.


    **


    **


    **

 [65] A King’s Gambit

    Chapter 65: A King''s Gambit


    ¡ª


    The afternoon sun spilled through tall windows, filling the Queen¡¯s chambers with long shadows. My knee pressed harder between her legs as I considered my options, the dagger steady against her throat.


    It was funny, really. The room was full of luxury, artwork and all, and she carried herself with the pride of a Queen until a minute ago. But right now? Her death was in my hands.


    What an idiot, I thought, considering the entire situation once again. The sheer arrogance of it almost made me laugh. Especially when she knew I wasn¡¯t a normal human, I could fly, and I¡¯d murdered dozens of guards before. Why did she seclude herself with me?


    Her stupidity aside, I needed to think about my next course of action carefully. Only Cersei knew about my secret, but my companions were also captured. The Red Keep crawled with guards, true, but they weren''t the real threat. It was the politics of this situation that could prove deadly.


    Kill Cersei now, and I''d have chaos crash into me that I didn¡¯t want. If killing the royals was what I wanted, I¡¯d have killed Joffrey a long time ago. But I couldn¡¯t let her live either; if she lived, she''d never stop plotting against me. Stannis¡¯ attack might play out entirely differently because of her annoying plots.


    Let¡¯s see¡­ Kinvara is probably fine as long as she isn¡¯t dead. She¡¯s a magician after all, and she was far too old to fall for Cersei''s plots. The Sand Snakes were mortal, though. But¡­ I didn¡¯t care about them. They weren¡¯t useful to me, one thing, and secondly, I didn¡¯t have any emotional connection with them.


    Kinvara¡¯s usefulness aside, she was fun company. And she should be fine. So that left Cersei¡¯s fate on my plans and not on any worry for my companions. My jaws clenched. I could end this right now, I mused, studying Cersei''s reflection in one of her gilded mirrors. One quick slash and the Lannisters lose their queen.


    But that would be too simple, too clean. Too much of a waste. I needed something messier that would tear their pride apart before I burned it all down.


    Plus, she¡¯d make a great example of what happened to people, no matter if they were Lannister Princesses, or Royal Queens, who stood against the new Targaryen Dynasty.


    In that case¡­


    A muffled whimper drew my attention back to my captive. Cersei''s eyes blazed with helpless fury in the mirror, that famous Lannister pride still there even as she realized just how badly she''d miscalculated. The mighty lioness, brought low by her own hubris.


    The irony wasn''t lost on me.


    ¡°Did you think ropes could hold me?¡± I hissed, breath hot against her ear. ¡°That ropes matter to dragons?¡±


    ¡°Mmhmph! S-stoff!¡± She tried through the gag, and it sounded painfully amusing.


    My dagger traced the column of her throat, dimpling flesh. ¡°Nah. I walked through your son''s soldiers. Ate your father¡¯s schemes. And you¡ª¡± The blade slid lower, splitting silk. ¡°¡ªyou¡¯re just a lion cub playing queen. What can a bitch do to a dragon?¡±


    Her chest heaved against the torn robe, fury warring with terror. It was a sight to behold, for while she was a dumb whore, she was a gorgeous one. Her intelligence aside, she had the looks suitable for a queen.


    I leaned close, savoring the hitch in her breath, my pelvis pressing against her ass.


    ¡°Now,¡± I purred, ¡°shall we discuss my companions? And you¡¯ll pray I leave you breathing when the Red Keep burns.¡±


    I tightened my grip on Cersei''s throat, watching her struggle against my hold. She jerked her body around, making her round breasts sway, and grunted against my grip. It was a good feeling. The pleasure of holding down a queen, a real one, not something like the Pirate Queen. Her defiance only made me chuckle darkly.


    The fear in her eyes was intoxicating, a deep contrast to the haughty demeanor she wore like armor earlier. I could feel the warmth of her pulse against my fingertips, racing like a doe before the hunt.


    ¡°Vou¡­ vou''re going toh¡­ pay for this¡­!¡± she grumbled at me, glaring.


    I burst out laughing. "Oh come on, you think I can''t guess what you wanted, you slut? Why you brought me here instead of executing me?" I whispered, my voice a low growl that resonated in the hollow of her throat.


    ¡°Toh-¡± she started, ¡°toh lockh you uph in the¡­ dungeon!¡±


    Laughing once again, I slapped her ass, watching her wince. "Sure you would have. You Lannisters are all the same, arrogant to the last, unwilling to admit what you want."


    Slowly, she stopped jerking her body in an attempt to free herself. I could taste the victory in the air, as tangible as the salt on the winds of Dragonstone.


    Cersei''s breaths came in shallow gasps now, her face paling as the realization of her predicament settled upon her. That she couldn''t free herself, and she couldn''t scream for help.


    I leaned in closer, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. "This is where your story ends, false Queen of Andals," I murmured. "And mine is just beginning."


    ¡°...Noh¡­¡± she cried, ¡°you won''t dare to kill me!¡±


    "That depends on how you act from now on," I chuckled, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn''t lie when I said I know exactly why you wanted to meet me alone. Why you didn''t alert the entire realm the moment you suspected who I was."


    She tried to turn her head, but my grip held firm. Her neck was firm, and the warm skin was pleasant to the touch.


    "It''s because of him, isn''t it? My brother Rhaegar." I felt her tense beneath me. "The dragon prince you could never have. Is that not why you''re here now, playing these little games?"


    A muffled laugh came through the cloth gag, but it sounded hollow, desperate. The sound grated on my nerves.


    My hand struck her face, the sharp crack echoing in the chamber. Her eyes rolled back, a groan escaping through the gag.


    I pulled a rope from my inventory, the material appearing in my hand as if by magic. "Annoying, don''t laugh. I hate Lannister laughter. You little cats always think you''re so clever," I muttered, binding her hands behind her back and putting my dagger away in the Inventory. "But you''re transparent. Pathetic, even."


    She struggled against the bonds, but there was no escape. The mighty lioness of House Lannister reduced to this ¨C all because she couldn''t resist the ghost of a man long dead.


    I flipped Cersei over onto her back, her breasts jiggling as they settled, one of them poking out through those loose robes of her. I grinned down at her, drinking in the horror flooding her eyes, lavishing in her gorgeous body.


    "Now then, Your Grace," I purred, "once again, I want to discuss where my companions are being kept. But since you''re so uncooperative, allow me to soften you up first, yeah?¡±


    She shook her head frantically, mumbling something unintelligible through the gag. I leaned closer, my hand tightening around the curve of her slim waist. "What was that? I couldn''t quite hear you."


    Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she repeated herself, mascara running in dark rivulets down her cheeks.


    The sight of the proud Cersei Lannister brought so low filled me with a savage satisfaction. I laughed, the sound echoing off the stone walls of her chambers. "Are you ordering me to stop? I think we both know you''re in no position to be making demands.¡±


    ¡°Mmhmmph!¡±


    ¡°Heh. Who would dare come to your rescue now? Your loyal guards? Your devoted brother? Nobody. That is the answer.¡± I slapped her across her back.


    Then I tore away her fine silk dress, the expensive fabric shredding beneath my fingers. Cersei whimpered pitifully and attempted to shield herself from my gaze, but my iron grip held her firmly in place.


    My free hand traced a threatening path across her collarbone, reminding her of her complete powerlessness. She whimpered in response, the sound muffled by the cloth between her teeth, her proud demeanor finally shattered.


    I slapped her across the ass, watching her squirm in pain. "None of that now," I said. "You wanted the last dragon, didn''t you? Be glad. My brother was a dragon by name, while I am one by blood. You''ll soon see.¡±


    She looked at me in confusion, but she''d soon see anyway. I undid my breeches, freeing my hard length.


    Cersei''s eyes widened at the sight, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. That size must not look human to her. I chuckled darkly, positioning myself at her entrance.


    ¡°There is no need for foreplay with a whore, right?¡± I asked. "But I bet you''re wet enough already. Let''s test out that bet,¡± I said, thrusting forward in one brutal motion.


    Cersei screamed behind the gag, her walls clamping down on me like a vice. It was an intense feeling, fucking the slut that Robert the Usurper married. I groaned at the exquisite tightness, giving her just a moment to adjust to my size.


    Then, I set a punishing pace, my hips snapping forward with enough force to rattle the bed frame. It felt good, my hip muscles tightening in lust.


    Cersei sobbed with each thrust, her arms under her back. It must hurt, but I didn''t bother to fix it for her. The whole point was to hurt her. Then, I¡¯d blow her mind with pleasure. I relished the sting of pain, the way her body shook beneath mine.


    "Fucking whore," I growled, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust. My hands moved with my words, parting her robes from her chest, groping her breasts tightly.  "Look at you crying in pain. You wanted this, and now you got it. Being split open by a dragon''s cock."


    Cersei shook her head wildly, her muffled cries taking on a desperate edge. She was trying to say she didn''t want this. I just laughed, reaching up to cruelly twist her nipples. "Don''t bother lying. Your cunt is gripping me like a vice even though you''re crying in pain. Slut.¡±


    Slamming into her like a truck a few more times, watching her body tremble under me, I pulled out abruptly and flipped her onto her knees. She yelped as I slammed back into her, her face mashing against the mattress.


    I gripped her hips, fingers digging into her soft ass as I rutted into her like an animal.


    The room filled with the wet slap of flesh against flesh, Cersei''s strangled cries, and my own primal grunts. I lost myself in the mindless rutting, the sheer debauchery of fucking the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms like a common tavern wench.


    ¡°Take it, bitch," I grunted, my heavy balls slapping against her with each thrust. "Take my cock, you arrogant slut." I cursed her while hate fucking her. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Cersei keened, her arms twisting on her back. I pushed her face into the pillow, muffling her wails even further and followed her down, never letting up my brutal pace.


    I could feel her pussy fluttering around me, her climax approaching. "That''s it," I encouraged. "Milk my cock. Show me what a good little whore you are."


    It was also time to switch the pain.


    [Skill: ¡®Dragondick - E¡¯ activated!]


    Cersei¡¯s body flinched, shuddering like a motor starting. With a muffled scream, she came, her pussy clamping down on me like the jaws of a hippo. It felt crazy good as I roared my own release, spurting deep inside her greedy cunt.


    She collapsed onto the bed, slipping out of my cock, panting in her sweat-slicked mess.


    I watched my seed dribble from her swollen folds with satisfaction. Cersei whimpered, her eyes rolling back in her head, too exhausted to move.


    ¡°No¡­¡± she muffled. ¡°No more¡­¡±


    ¡°Already?¡± I chuckled, grabbing her by the hair as I brought my still-hardened cock near her mouth. ¡°We''re just starting.¡±


    [Skill: ¡®Dragondick - E¡¯ has leveled up!]


    [Skill: ¡®Dragondick - D¡¯ activated!]


    I fucked her so hard that it leveled up.


    **


    **


    **


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 [66] A Dragon’s Hoarding

    Chapter 66: A Dragon¡¯s Hoarding


    ¡ª S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I leaned against the windowsill, letting the night breeze cool the sweat on my bare chest. The wine burned sweet down my throat as I studied the sprawl of torchlit streets below, watching the flickering lights dance like fallen stars across the city.


    Each sip of the Dornish red reminded me of warmer days when such luxuries had been commonplace rather than carefully rationed treasures. Well, not that I ever got to drink wine when I was a kid, but yes.


    "Quite the view," I mused to no one in particular, tracing the Red Keep''s jagged shadow across the city. "Outrageous that Stannis wants his hands on this."


    A rustle of silk drew my attention next. Turning, I found Cersei lying splayed across the bed like a butchered stag, limbs tethered to the bedposts with shreds of her own gown. Her usually immaculate golden hair was a tangled mess against her naked body as she was sprawled on the crimson sheets. I couldn''t help but appreciate its poetry.


    The proud lioness brought low, bound by the very trappings of her own luxury. The irony wasn''t lost on me; how many others had she left similarly helpless in her ruthless climb and stay to power? I liked seeing her so ragged, so defeated.


    The Lannisters. They were the ones who betrayed my family Dynasty, and I relished ruining their Queen. ¡°Argh¡­ you¡­¡± Cersei said. Her gag hung askew; she must''ve worked it loose during our earlier¡­ negotiations. Those lioness eyes tracked me with pure venom as consciousness fully reclaimed her. It made me smile.


    "Good morning, sweetheart." I raised my chalice in a mocking salute. "Sleep well?"


    Her chest heaved against the restraints. "You vile, inbred bastard! I''ll see your cock fed to dogs before-"


    "Ah, ah." I clicked my tongue several times, crossing the room in three strides. The dagger materialized from my inventory, and its edge kissed her pulse. "Screaming''s poor manners after I''ve been so... accommodating. Also, ¡®inbred¡¯ is a crazy insult coming from you.¡±


    My parents were siblings, and I was born, I had no control over that scenario. But Cersei fucked her brother out of her own choice and gave birth to three inbred children. Wasn¡¯t she worse in that scenario?


    She froze, rage trembling through her like wildfire held in a glass vial. Smart girl. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my blade, and each beat was a desperate rhythm against cold steel. Her self-preservation finally seemed to outweigh her fury.


    A knock shattered the tension. "Your Grace?" The handmaiden''s voice wavered through oak. "I''ve brought supper..." The timing couldn''t have been worse, or perhaps better, depending on how one looked at it. The interruption forced both our hands.


    I arched a brow, studying her face with predatory focus. Cersei''s throat bobbed against cold steel, the blade catching lamplight with each nervous swallow. For a heartbeat, I thought she''d gamble and throw herself on the blade just to see me gutted by her guards.


    The wild look in those emerald eyes promised she''d considered it, perhaps even welcomed the mutual destruction. Then the fire banked, replaced by that familiar Lannister calculation I''d come to expect from her family. Death wasn¡¯t worth it.


    "Not¡­ hungry," she rasped, never breaking our stare. Her fingers twitched at her sides, but she kept them still¡ªallowing me another small victory of control.


    "But the Lord Hand insisted-" The maid''s voice cracked with confusion.


    "Are you deaf, girl?" The knife pressed deeper, drawing a ruby bead that traced a delicate crimson path down pale skin. "Take your slop to the dogs. Go. Your Queen is busy taking a good cock," I injected enough venom into the words to send any servant scurrying.


    Silence stretched like pulled taffy. Then retreating footsteps, growing fainter until they vanished entirely down the corridor.


    I sheathed the blade with a chuckle. "See? Cooperation suits you." My thumb smeared the blood across her collarbone. "Now. Where''s the Red Priestess and the Sand girls?"


    Her lips twisted. "Rotting in the black cells where traitors-"


    My hand jerked, and wine hit her face like a slap, dark rivulets streaming down her features and staining her pristine white collar. She gasped, red droplets clinging to her lashes like morning dew as I upended the ornate silver chalice. The sharp scent of Dornish red filled the air between us. "Let''s try that again. Where. Are. They."


    Each word fell like a hammer blow in the tense chamber, and I ensured she understood what¡¯d happen if she kept playing.


    "Guarded by fifty men in the Tower of the Hand!" She spat through the dripping vintage, defiance burning in her eyes despite her trembling shoulders. Her fingers clutched at her sodden dress. "You''ll never reach them alive, you treasonous-"


    I caught her jaw, forcing eye contact. "Fifty men?" My laugh echoed off the vaulted ceiling. "I ate fifty men for breakfast. Also, you¡¯re aware that your daughter is in Dorne¡­? Why did you capture Oberyn Martell¡¯s daughters? Stupid bitch.¡±


    ¡°....¡±


    My free hand trailed lower, her breath hitching as I palmed the bruise I''d left on her thigh. "You''ll order their release at dawn. Quietly. Or every lord in the realm will learn how the Lion Queen squeals when mounted proper."


    ¡°I-¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you quite understand the situation, Cersei,¡± I called her by her name for once, which made her spine straighten. ¡°I can kill you, your imp of a brother, and your son right here, right now, and leave this castle unscratched. Did you not get the report about how many soldiers I killed during the riot?¡±


    She fell silent. I watched as understanding finally dawned in Cersei''s eyes. Her shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining from her posture.


    "Fine," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I''ll have them released at dawn. Quietly. As you asked."


    "Smart girl." I smiled, patting her cheek and watching her grumble. The wine still stained her skin, making her look almost feverish in the dim light. "See how much easier things are when you cooperate? Be an obedient bitch, and your family line won¡¯t end overnight."


    Her jaw clenched, but she gave a tight nod. My smile widened into a grin at that. The mighty lioness was reduced to submission by a cock. It was a beautiful sight.


    I stepped back, my hands moving to my belt. "Now then, since you''ve been so reasonable..." The leather slid free with a soft hiss. "I think you deserve a reward."


    Her eyes widened as I approached the bed again, but she didn''t protest. She knew better now¡­ and she was starting to be honest with herself. The candles guttered in their holders, casting dancing shadows across the walls as I moved closer.


    ****


    Dawn crept through the open balcony doors, painting stripes across tangled sheets and golden skin. I traced the bruise blooming along Cersei''s shoulder¡ªa souvenir from last night''s negotiations. Her breath hitched when my thumb dug into the mark, though she kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling above us.


    The silk sheets smelled of sex and fear and Dornish red, an intoxicating blend that made my mouth curl at the edges.


    The door creaked open without ceremony.


    Meryn Trant''s boots froze halfway across the threshold. I watched the realization hit him like a crossbow bolt¡ªthe Queen''s bare shoulder peeking above linens, my hand resting there like a king claiming conquered land. His eyes darted between Cersei''s blank stare and my grin, and his fingers twitched toward his sword hilt.


    "Close your mouth, Trant," I drawled, giving Cersei''s shoulder a squeeze, moving my hand within the blanket covering us and squeezing her breasts underneath. "You''ll catch flies."


    The knight''s jaw snapped shut, face flushing the same ugly puce as a corpse left too long in the sun. It made up for how he was urging me through the streets, this bastard. Cersei''s body tensed beneath my palm, her trapped breath trembling like a plucked lute string. For a heartbeat, I thought she might scream. Might try to leap from the bed and scream like she wanted to claw my eyes out. Might beg her loyal dog to strike me down.


    ¡°You¡¯re late, Trant¡­¡± Instead, she spoke in that cold, clipped tone that made lesser men piss themselves. "Release the Red Priestess. And the Dornish girls. See them beyond the Mud Gate with coin and mounts."


    Meryn''s gaze flicked to the wine-stained sheets. "Your Grace...?"


    "Do it." The command cracked through the chamber like a whip. "They''re innocent. This... man proved as much." Her throat bobbed on the lie, fingers digging into the mattress. ¡°Be respectful to them when leading them outside.¡±


    I laughed. A low, rich sound made Meryn''s hand leap back to his sword. "Hmm? Relax, dog. Your mistress isn''t in danger." My thumb stroked the hollow of Cersei''s throat. "Don¡¯t let these bruises fool you. She loves being hit, you see. Right, sweetheart?"


    Her pulse thrummed against my palm. "...Yes. I love being hit by you"


    Meryn''s lips peeled back in a silent snarl. For half a breath, I almost wished he''d charge for whatever reason¡ªa final excuse to paint these walls with Lannister blood. But duty strangled courage, as it always did with these golden-cloaked puppets.


    ¡°As you wish, Your Grace.¡± The knight spun on his heel, armor clanking as he stormed from the chamber. The door slammed hard enough to rouse half the keep.


    Cersei flinched.


    I dropped the act and swung my legs over the bed''s edge, letting the sheet pool around my waist. Morning light gilded the scars mapping my back, and if not for the System having long healed me, there would have been scars of Dothraki whips and desert knives.


    "Dress up,¡± I ordered, stretching a little as I locked eyes with her. ¡°And fetch me something black. Dragons look best against shadow."


    She stared at me in silence before nodding. Cersei moved like a woman sleepwalking, fingers fumbling at the lacings of a burgundy gown left draped over a chair.


    I leaned against the bedpost, admiring the play of muscles beneath pale skin as she bent to retrieve my boots. The silk clung to her thighs where I''d split the seams last night. I enjoyed my view for the next few minutes.


    "Ah, not that," I said when she reached for her jewel chest. "Leave the rubies. Crowns weigh heavy on running whores."


    Her hands trembled as she fastened a plain wool cloak around her shoulders instead. I shrugged into the black doublet she offered¡ªboring Lannister crimson lining¡ªand buckled my sword across my back. The fine steel whispered as it settled between my shoulder blades, a growing friend eager for blood.


    "Boots," I reminded her. Cersei stared at the footwear near my feet like they were scorpions. ¡°What, you thought you could just bring them near me and be done? Slut. Crouch down and put them on my feet.¡±


    "You imbecile. My son¡ª"


    "Will piss himself when he finds your bed cold, smelling like sex," I said, jerking her close by the braid I''d woven around her throat last night. "Don¡¯t waste my time, and we might outpace the rumors."


    ¡°....¡±


    A few minutes later, after we were done getting ready, it was time to leave. "Come here," I ordered. She stepped closer, and I grabbed her waist. She stumbled against my chest, her eyes wide with confusion. Before she could protest, I scooped her into my arms.


    Her mouth opened in shock. "What are you-"


    I strode toward the balcony, boots crunching over scattered glass from last night''s wine. The dawn air rushed through my hair as I stepped onto the stone railing, the city sprawling beneath us like a merchant''s carpet.


    ¡°Wait, wait-! What is going on?!¡± Cersei''s scream pierced the dawn as I leaped. I¡¯d chosen the side facing the sea so that people didn¡¯t notice us. Her nails dug into my shoulders through the black doublet while we plummeted from her tower. The wind whipped her golden hair into my face as she thrashed in panic.


    I clamped my hand over her mouth, muffling her terrified shriek. The ground rushed up to meet us, the stony shore growing larger with each heartbeat.


    Then came the familiar burn between my shoulder blades. My wings burst through the fabric of my doublet, unfurling like dark sails against the morning sky. The sudden uplift jerked us skyward, transforming our deadly fall into a graceful glide.


    Cersei''s eyes bulged as she stared at my draconic appendages, her scream dying in her throat. We soared away from the Red Keep''s walls, taking a detour through the sky to avoid being seen.


    The wind carried us higher, and dawn''s light painted the city gold beneath our shadow. ¡°Be grateful,¡± I said, ¡°Rhaegar Targaryen could have never shown you this.¡±


    Cersei trembled in my arms, her face buried against my chest, as we flew away from King''s Landing. A grin split my face as I enjoyed the morning breeze. I don¡¯t like being exposed, but all of this turned out great. It was one thing for a dragon to kidnap princesses, but a whole other to steal queens instead. This was a lot of fun.


    But now, I had to decide where to take my base for the short time until Stannis¡¯ attack.


    **


    **


    **

 [67] A New Base of Operation

    Chapter 67: A New Base of Operation


    ¡ª


    About half an hour later, I stood behind some trees far from the outer walls of the city, with Cersei beside me, her clothes exchanged for a more common outfit.


    She shot me a furious glare as we waited. ¡°...I¡¯ll make you suffer for this,¡± she hissed, but she still followed when I grabbed her arm and led her toward the gate she¡¯d mentioned to Trant.


    The sky stretched over the open land, and we didn¡¯t walk long before I spotted them. Four riders headed away from the city.


    My lips curled into a grin as I recognized Kinvara, still disguised as ¡°Nyra¡± with her striking red hair, riding Dany White. That made me smile, I was worried that I''d have to pay another visit to get my horse out.


    The Sand Snakes rode alongside her, all tense and on guard, their weapons beside them. Even from here, I could see bruises marking their arms and faces. They obviously had it worse in captivity than Kinvara, who looked as pristine as ever.


    ¡°Your guards weren''t exactly gentle with our Dornish friends,¡± I commented to Cersei as we headed toward the group.


    ¡°Don''t talk to me.¡±


    The Sand Snakes tensed as we approached, hands drifting to hidden blades. But Kinvara¡¯s face lit up with a knowing smile.


    ¡°You sure took your time,¡± she said in a teasing tone, amusement dancing in her eyes. ¡°I was beginning to think you''d forgotten about us because of that Stark girl.¡±


    ¡°Forget? Never,¡± I replied, liking how our usual banter hadn''t been lost in the short time I wasn''t here. And that seemed to bother Cersei. ¡°Though I did get a bit sidetracked, I took care of it.¡± I gave Cersei''s waist a squeeze for emphasis.


    The way Kinvara''s smirk widened told me she fully understood exactly what kind of taking care I meant. Seeing the mix of annoyance flash across Cersei''s features was almost worth it.


    Kinvara¡¯s gaze landed on her, and her smile got bigger. ¡°So I see. And here I assumed you had a thing for redheads. Welcome aboard, Your Grace.¡±


    Cersei trembled in rage at the mockery, and the Sand Snakes gasped in shock in recognition. They hadn''t expected me to abduct the Queen.


    ¡°The little queen needed some personal attention,¡± I said, matching her teasing tone, my hand slapping against the bitch Queen''s ass. ¡°How could I say no?¡±


    Cersei gasped, trembling in rage and glaring at me, but she could do nothing.


    She realized that she was nobody before me, a lion without claws.


    One of the Sand Snakes, Obara, cleared her throat. ¡°This is all super entertaining, but maybe we should deal with more urgent problems?¡±


    ¡°I agree with the girl.¡± Kinvara sat a little straighter on my horse. ¡°Where are we heading now? I doubt we''re staying here given you had us dropped outside.¡±


    Her question spread around with the cool morning air, as I parted my lips to tell her my plan.


    ****


    The night breeze brushed against my wings as I flew over Hayford Castle, an area merely a day''s distance on horseback.


    My enhanced eyesight took in every detail of the fortress below. In the moonlight, those red-tiled roofs looked almost silver, and the torches on the walls seemed like scattered stars.


    From up here, it all seemed so calm¡ªa pretty little jewel surrounded by rolling hills and fertile fields. It was a single castle building in the middle of nowhere, and the Kingsroad snaked alongside the castle, like a pale ribbon vital for anyone traveling between King¡¯s Landing and Duskendale.


    What a waste, I thought, veering left to study their defensive layout.


    The guards marched along the battlements in easy-to-predict routes, their torches basically giving away where they were. The high stone walls did look impressive but they weren¡¯t on the same level as some of the mightier castles I''ve seen. Two towers anchored the corners facing the road, good spots for archers if anyone was willing to go for a head-on assault.


    A small brook gurgled somewhere below, feeding the farmland around it. The outer bailey sprawled in front of me, complete with barracks and stables, enough for a decent garrison¡ªexcept now, it hardly had any. Fair, why would they need a bigger force, anyway? I sneered, recalling how the Lannisters had snatched this place.


    The last Hayford heir was just a baby girl, so they married her off to some distant Lannister cousin who probably spent her inheritance while she played with dolls.


    Typical. Lannister bastards. They always believed themselves so clever, weaving their webs of marriage and money, never expecting someone might chop all their strings.


    From one of the tall windows in the great hall, candlelight glowed. It was the only room that was lit. It made me wonder who could be in there.


    I swooped lower, wings barely making a sound, searching for a spot to slip in. The inner bailey offered a few choices, but I needed somewhere quiet...


    The lit window in the family wing, away from the main hustle, was my target. I glided closer, sticking to the shadows thrown by the castle walls.


    As I drew near, I glimpsed movement inside, making me blink.


    A woman stood in front of a mirror, humming under her breath while she arranged her hair. Her dress seemed too nice for a simple servant, though she moved with the simplicity of one.


    Interesting, who''s she? I landed silently on the balcony, folding my wings as I stepped into the candlelit room.


    ¡°Hmm-mm-hmm~¡± she was humming to herself, doing her hair in a long braid. I didn''t get to observe for long as she caught my reflection in the mirror, blinking, as her dark eyes turned around.


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    Her freckled nose rose up as her eyes widened, and her mouth widened as she went for a scream. ¡°A-¡±


    I was there in two strides, clamping a hand over her mouth before she could let out a sound. Her eyes went wide with fear as she took in my face in the mirror, her body trembling against mine.


    I kept her pinned against me, feeling how hard her heart pounded. She was no Cersei Lannister, it''d be easy to crush her mind.


    Candlelight flickered over her panicked eyes in the glass, showing how she was trying to make sense of it all. Without warning, I scooped her into my arms and jumped through the window.


    Her shriek got muffled behind my palm as we dropped toward the ground. Night air whipped around us, and my wings flared out, catching a rising current that sent us soaring into the starry sky.


    I pulled my hand away from her mouth, letting her terrified scream echo across the heavens. ¡°AAHH! W-WHO ARE YOU?!¡±


    The castle shrank below, the torches looking like tiny fireflies in the dark.


    ¡°Forget those stupid questions. Beautiful view, don¡¯t you think?¡± I asked casually, then abruptly tucked my wings and dived. She screamed louder as the ground rushed up at an insane speed.


    At the last second, I spread my wings again, snapping us into a sharp curve that left her gasping for breath.


    I repeated the maneuver a few times, climbing high and then plunging back down¡ªeach time pulling us out of it just before disaster. Her voice got raspier with every scream, her nails digging into my shoulders.


    At last, I glided back to her chamber window, stepping onto the balcony and carrying her inside. I set her down gently, and she immediately scrambled away from me, pressing herself against the far wall.


    ¡°W-who¡­¡± Her chest was heaving, her hair a complete mess from the flight.


    ¡°I won''t hurt you,¡± I said quietly, keeping my distance as I tucked my wings away. ¡°But I can if I want. So¡­ cooperate, alright?¡±


    She stared at me, dark eyes huge, her body trembling as she pushed herself tighter into that corner.


    ****


    The maid¡ªMyranda was her name¡ªhad quite the interesting story to tell once she calmed down enough to speak. Amazing what a few death-defying flights through the night sky could do to loosen someone''s tongue.


    First of all, she was no Lady, unlike what the size of her bedroom might suggest, as well as her outfits.


    She''d been the head servant at Hayford Castle for a short few years now, and was practically running the place since Lady Ermesande was just a babe. No lord or lady to answer to meant Myranda lived better than most highborn ladies¡ªshe controlled the servants, managed the household funds, wore the previous mistresses¡¯ expensive clothes, and even got to sleep in one of the nicer chambers. Pretty sweet deal for a commoner.


    But the best part? This backwater castle didn''t even have a Maester. That meant all messages, all information flowing in and out, went through her hands first. She''d built herself quite the comfortable little nest here, ruling over her domain while sending neat, tidy reports to the Lannisters about how well their interests were being looked after.


    At least until recently. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Everything changed when that boy Tyrek Lannister was betrothed to little Lady Ermesande. The golden boy showed up with his own retinue of servants, all loyal to House Lannister rather than the cozy setup Myranda had going. Suddenly her position wasn''t so secure anymore. Her access to the master bedroom was snatched, and she was moved to a different, albeit still big, room.


    Those newcomers started questioning her authority, watching how she spent the castle''s coin, wondering why she lived so well for a mere servant.


    It was a sad story, how pitiful. Well, not really. She was taking advantage of the current house head¡¯s age. But I will sympathise with her. She''ll be an ally.


    I could see the fear in her eyes as she huddled in the corner of her bed, back pressed against the wall like she thought she could melt into the stone if she tried hard enough. Her hands twisted in the fabric of her fine dress¡ªprobably worth more than most servants made in a year.


    "So¡­ W-what are you goin'' to do to me, m''lord?" she asked, her common accent slipping through despite her attempts to sound refined.


    I shrugged, standing at my full height near the window where moonlight cast my shadow long across her floor. "It depends.¡±


    ¡°Depends¡­?¡±


    ¡°On how bold you are. I can easily fix your problem," I said simply. "Come with me, take me to the rooms of the Lannister servants, and I''ll kill them all. I''ll tie up the Lannister boy after that. Since you control the information passage, the Lannisters won''t know what''s going on here as you send them reports as usual. Am I clear?"


    She trembled harder, eyes darting between me and the door. I could practically see the thoughts racing through her head¡ªif she did as I asked and the Lannisters found out, they''d have her head for sure.


    I scoffed at her hesitation, pulling a dagger from my inventory. The blade materialized in my hand like magic, making her gasp.


    ¡°Listen, girl,¡± I said. "You don''t look that old, so don''t make a stupid choice. And the stupid choice here is clear. You''ll die now if you don''t help me."


    Myranda just trembled. She squeezed her eyes shut, shoulders slumping in defeat. After a long moment, she nodded with a heavy sigh. ¡°Yes, m¡¯lord¡­¡±


    "Good choice," I said, letting the dagger vanish again. "In exchange, I will grant you the actual Ladyship over this House. Give me a month, alright?"


    She looked up at me, confusion written all over her face. The idea that a servant could become a true Lady probably seemed impossible to her. And who was I to give her that?


    I just smiled, already savoring how perfectly this would all play out.


    **


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    **


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 [68] Bowing Before the Dragon

    Chapter 68: Bowing Before the Dragon


    ¡ª


    I led Kinvara and the Sand Snakes through the castle''s back entrance, a hidden doorway Myranda showed me earlier.


    The night air had a crisp edge, and torchlight flickered on the stone walls, making shadows dance across our faces.


    Cersei walked stiffly between the Sand girls, who never took their eyes off her. I could practically feel the hatred coming off them¡ªshe¡¯d ordered their imprisonment and torture, after all, and now she was their prisoner. Obara¡¯s hand kept jerking toward her spear while Nymeria fingered a hidden knife.


    ¡°This way,¡± I whispered, nodding down a narrow corridor.


    Myranda trembled next to me, her eyes flicking between our guests like she was a rabbit caught out in the open. ¡°Ah, this¡­¡±


    ¡°Myranda, these are my associates. Ladies, this is Myranda. The castle''s head maid. She¡¯ll help us run things in this castle.¡± I introduced them to each other.


    Kinvara looked at her, and her small smirk made Myranda shrink in on herself. ¡°You have a bright future, girl. A pleasure,¡± the Red Priestess purred, though that hungry look in her eyes didn¡¯t budge.


    We slipped through the castle¡¯s dark hallways, our footsteps echoing off the stones. The master¡¯s bedroom wasn¡¯t far, just up one flight of stairs, then along another corridor.


    Inside, the master¡¯s chamber was dimly lit, the heavy velvet drapes drawn shut, trapping the stale scent of rich perfumes and old wood. A grand four-poster bed stood in the center, its crimson sheets rumpled from disuse. A gilded mirror hung on the far wall, reflecting the flickering candlelight from a single candelabrum near the writing desk, where scattered parchments and an overturned goblet hinted at a hasty departure.


    On the floor, Tyrek Lannister lay sprawled, wrists and ankles bound tightly with rope. His golden curls clung to his sweaty forehead, and a dark bruise was already swelling where I¡¯d clocked him. The kid looked small, vulnerable¡ªfar from the noble heir meant to hold this castle.


    He looked pretty pathetic for someone who was supposed to rule this place. One could use his age as an excuse, but it was more like his Lannister blood made him a pathetic loser.


    Never mind, it''s too much to hate on a kid. I told myself, shaking my head.


    ¡°This is¡­ a Lannister.¡± Tyene Sand said. ¡°What should we do with him?¡± she asked, giving the boy a nudge with her boot.


    ¡°He''ll live,¡± I turned to Myranda. ¡°You, get some guards you trust and have them haul him to the dungeons.¡±


    She twisted her hands, eyes glued to the floor. ¡°M¡¯lord, I... I¡¯m not sure about the guards. What if they talk? What if they tell people? News will spread, and Lannister forces will come¡­¡±


    Fair point. I realized that bringing in more folks could cause issues. ¡°Most soldiers are busy with war across the realm, but you¡¯re right,¡± I said, tapping my fingers on my belt as I pondered. ¡°Change of plan. No point in hiding, we''ll take full siege. Gather all the guards in the courtyard.¡±


    ¡°N-now?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be morning soon, so do it then.¡±


    ¡°Alright...¡± She nodded, though she still looked uneasy.


    With that settled, I turned to everyone else. ¡°We¡¯ll use this castle as our base until Stannis makes his move on King¡¯s Landing. The boy here¡±¡ªI motioned to Tyrek¡ª¡°was meant to be the Lannister puppet in charge. We¡¯ll keep him alive. He might be worth something as a hostage." Although I doubted that. "And since the castle¡¯s very close to Kingsroad, it¡¯s perfect for our plans.¡±


    Kinvara sank into a plush chair like she owned the place, while the Sand girls looked around.


    Tyene spoke up, ¡°It makes sense, I guess. What about the staff who are still here?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯d watch when I talk to the guards. I''ve got a plan,¡± I said, noticing how they all started catching on. ¡°We¡¯ll figure out who stays and who... doesn¡¯t.¡±


    The Sand Snakes looked at each other, and Cersei went even paler. Myranda just stared at the floor, probably trying not to think about what was going to happen when the sun came up.


    ****


    The cold of the night faded as the first rays of dawn bathed the courtyard in gold and crimson. A thin mist still clung to the damp stone walls, curling lazily around the yard''s edges before being burned away by the rising sun. The courtyard itself was a wide, open space with packed dirt and patches of frost lingering in the shaded corners


    Several wooden training dummies were positioned near the barracks, their surfaces marred and chipped from years of sword practice. The castle¡¯s outer wall towered high above, casting long shadows over the gathered men while the scent of cold steel and damp straw lingered in the air.


    I stood on the steps, watching the castle guards shuffle in. Boots scuffed against the ground, and quiet murmurs filled the space, mingling with the distant cawing of crows perched atop the ramparts. Some men rubbed the sleep from their eyes, their breath visible in the crisp morning air, while others clutched their weapons as if they were expecting an ambush.


    They looked confused, muttering to each other and clearly wondering why they had been dragged out so early.


    About forty men were there¡ªdefinitely not a huge garrison, but enough to hold a small castle. Their weapons glinted in the morning light, and their red-and-gold livery screamed ¡°Lannister.¡± The fabric of their cloaks stirred in the light breeze, but there was a stiffness to their movements, the uneasy tension of men who could tell something wasn¡¯t right.


    They''d recently had an upgrade to their gears after Joffrey¡¯s name day, an attempt from the Lannisters to make these guards loyal to them. Too bad.


    Myranda was nearby with a bunch of other servants. Kinvara was next to me, her red robes catching the light like fresh blood. The Sand Snakes spread themselves around the courtyard while Cersei stayed inside, tied in a room.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± I called out, letting my voice roll across the yard. The soldiers turned to face me, confusion written all over their faces. They were probably asking themselves who the hell I was. ¡°This must be all very surprising for you all, but you''d soon understand what is going on.¡±


    I gave Kinvara a nod, and she stepped forward, her presence impossible to ignore. ¡°Before you stands Viserys of House Targaryen, Third of His Name, rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Show your respect.¡±


    The atmosphere immediately changed from confusion to tense. It felt like the air itself shook with her words, and a bunch of men actually stepped back, while some gripped their weapons tight. One could hear the whispers bouncing around as some reached for their weapons.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± I said, lifting my hand. A dark portal opened beside me, and Viserion came out, golden scales blazing under the rising sun.


    She¡¯d gotten huge, barely fitting in that courtyard as she landed with a heavy thud, letting out a roar that made the air explode.


    Several soldiers staggered back, a few of them yelling in fear. Viserion¡¯s head swung around, eyeing each one like a cat ready to pounce on mice.


    ¡°What you see is not an illusion, I''m sure you can feel that in your bones. So the choice in front of you is simple,¡± I went on, stepping down the stairs. ¡°Forget about Joffrey, that false King. Pledge loyalty to me right now, and when I claim the Iron Throne, you¡¯ll get rewards beyond anything you can imagine.¡±


    I watched their expressions and added, ¡°If you refuse...¡± I gestured at Viserion, who let out a little puff of smoke. ¡°Well, you know what happens.¡±


    ¡°Damn¡­¡±


    ¡°Am I dreaming or what¡­?¡±


    ¡°Ah, and don¡¯t think about running to the Lannisters,¡± I added, pacing back and forth in front of them. ¡°They¡¯ll just assume you were part of some scheme and kill you anyway. So use your heads.¡±


    Most of them were already shaking like leaves, but one guy, a scarred-up sergeant, stepped out of line. ¡°House Lannister has done a lot for us lately, we- we''re loyal to them!¡± he snapped, hand on his sword. ¡°Not some dragon-riding fraud!¡±


    ¡°Calling me a fraud hurts,¡± I let out a dramatic sigh, almost annoyed at how typical this was. ¡°Viserion,¡± I ordered. ¡°Dracarys.¡± S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Golden flames roared over the sergeant. He managed a single scream before he was nothing but ash, his armor turning into molten gunk. The stink of burnt flesh rose in the air.


    The rest of the soldiers hit their knees so fast I heard a few painful thumps. Near the castle wall, Myranda looked as white as a ghost, her hands clamped over her mouth to keep her from crying out. She must be feeling so happy for having chosen smart.


    Kinvara¡¯s grin grew as she watched the men swear loyalty one by one, their voices shaky with fear. And with Viserion looming there, it was clear whose power they now belonged to.


    **


    **


    **

 [69] Small Council Going Crazy

    Chapter 69: Small Council Going Crazy


    ¡ª


    The Small Council chamber was dead silent, except for Joffrey drumming his fingers on the old oak table. Candles flickered, shadows dancing across everyone¡¯s tense faces. Joffrey¡¯s crown sat crooked, and the sheer rage on his face made it real clear he wasn¡¯t in the mood for small talk.


    ¡°Well?¡± he snapped. ¡°Where is my mother?¡±


    Ser Meryn Trant stepped forward, his white Kingsguard cloak swishing around his shoulders. ¡°Your Grace, I... I was the last one to see the Queen Regent. She ordered the release of the Red Priestess and those Dornish girls yesterday morning, then...¡±


    ¡°That is not what I asked. But what do you mean released them?¡± Tyrion cut in, leaning forward and forgetting all about his wine. ¡°Why in the Seven Hells would she release people she¡¯d ordered the capture of by her own will?¡±


    ¡°I... don¡¯t know, my lord.¡± Meryn looked around, clearly uncomfortable. ¡°She told me to carry out the order, and then she just vanished. No guards saw her leave. Her chambers were empty, except...¡±


    ¡°Except what?¡± Joffrey demanded, impatience dripping off every word.


    Meryn swallowed. ¡°Except for disturbed sheets, Your Grace. She has¡­ I don¡¯t know if I should say this since she warned me multiple times about this before¡­¡±


    Joffrey slammed his goblet down on the table, sending wine sloshing over the maps beneath. ¡°Spill it right now!¡±


    ¡°Her Grace was sharing the bed with a man!¡± Trant shouted. ¡°V-Vis, the mercenary from Second Sons,¡± he said, lowering his head.


    ¡°....¡± the room grew a little awkward, especially as Joffrey cleared his throat.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that unusual that she brings men to her chambers, but this one was particularly odd,¡± Trant continued. ¡°She¡¯d asked another guard and me to bring him in restraints, and once we sent him to her room, as per her orders¡­ he was next seen on her bed.¡±


    Joffrey¡¯s face reddened while Tyrion covered his with a hand, sighing. The boy King growled, shouting like crazy. ¡°U-useless! All of you! That doesn¡¯t explain how she vanished. How does the Queen Regent vanish from the most guarded castle in all of Westeros?¡±


    He¡¯s so wound up he might snap someone¡¯s neck if he hates their answer, Tyrion thought, carefully glancing at his nephew.


    ¡°Someone had to see something,¡± Tyrion said out loud, lifting a hand to calm Joffrey a bit. ¡°Servants, guards¡ªthere¡¯s always someone lurking around the Red Keep.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Varys murmured, tucking his hands into his sleeves. ¡°My little birds are already digging for answers, but this is bizarre. No ransom, no signs of forced entry. The timing with the Red Priestess¡¯s release looks way too convenient.¡±


    Littlefinger¡¯s mouth curled into that slippery smirk he always wore. ¡°Maybe we¡¯re looking at this all wrong. Could be our dear Queen Regent left on her own. Maybe things were getting... uncomfortable for her here.¡±


    ¡°You dare say my mother ran away?¡± Joffrey snarled, his face starting to go purple. ¡°I¡¯ll have your head on a spike!¡±


    Tyrion stepped in before the threat got too serious. ¡°Calm down, my dear nephew. We have to think about every possibility. If she was taken, who had the reason and the means? Stannis is too direct, the Dornish would be stupid, too. After all, your sister is to marry into the Martell family. That leaves the Tyrells¡­ one lord reported about them allying with a Targaryen, right?¡±


    Varys cleared his throat, and the room fell quiet. ¡°Ah, yes. There is another angle, though I don¡¯t love bringing it up.¡±


    He paused, letting that little ominous pause hang in the air. The candle flames seemed to dip like everything was holding its breath.


    ¡°As Lord Tyrion mentioned, House Tyrell has chosen to serve a Targaryen¡ªViserys the Third. Although initially we had trouble believing the intel due to how absurd it sounded, isn¡¯t it about time we accept it?¡± Varys asked, his tone careful. ¡°On the other hand, we have this sellsword, Vis... plus the Red Priestess who got let go. I find it odd Her Grace worked so hard to hide them. Perhaps she¡¯d noticed something we hadn¡¯t and wanted to use it for her benefit?¡±


    ¡°Why do you say so?¡±


    ¡°After the Queen vanished, I discovered she¡¯d been wiping out every mention of this sellsword Vis from our records¡ªguard shifts, visitor logs, merchant receipts. It was likely so that my little birds, and Littlefinger¡¯s spies, wouldn¡¯t notice him. Why would she do something like that?¡± Varys asked and shrugged to himself.


    Could that be real? Tyrion wondered, picturing some silver-haired dragonlord marching into King¡¯s Landing. It sounded insane. Then again, so did the idea of a dragon existing in the first place, but they did in the past.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Littlefinger said, stroking his neat little beard. ¡°Vis... Viserys. It¡¯s as if he¡¯s mocking us. Wanting us to notice. How bold.¡±


    Silence stretched as the dots connected in each of their heads. The situation grew clear, and Tyrion let out a sigh. ¡°Ser Meryn,¡± he spoke up, turning to Trant. ¡°Tell us more about¡­ this Vis. And what my dear sister before vanishing.¡±


    Meryn¡¯s lips tightened. ¡°I... he¡¯s one annoying bastard, my lord. He was¡­ touching Her Grace and smirking at me, that piece of shit. Yet, rather than getting mad, Her Grace told me to handle the release of those prisoners, dropping them outside the city, and then she dismissed me. I held my sword and threatened the mercenary, but Her Grace told me to stay calm. She said everything was alright...¡±


    Joffrey tapped his knuckles against the table, stiff with anger. ¡°My mother¡¯s no idiot, but if some Targaryen scum laid hands on her¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± Tyrion said gently, ¡°we¡¯re not sure of anything yet. But something happened in those chambers. Even if they had¡­ slept together, how did they vanish?¡±


    ¡°Windows,¡± Tyrion narrowed his eyes. ¡°The Ghost of Targaryen¡­ that thing who can fly. It¡¯s not a fabricated story either; I¡¯d seen him fly with my own two eyes that day.¡±


    Varys answered with a faint smile. ¡°You have a sharp mind, my lord. I thought the same.¡±


    ¡°And yet you didn¡¯t share your thoughts?¡± Tyrion asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°I was about to,¡± he shrugged.


    ¡°Then it fits,¡± Littlefinger said, shrugging like he didn¡¯t have a care in the world. ¡°The Queen Regent tried to hide Vis and his people, for whatever reason, and this Vis¡ªwho¡¯s actually Viserys Targaryen¡ªtook advantage of her in her bedroom¡­ and abducted her.¡±


    The silence that hit next made Joffrey¡¯s fury almost a solid thing in the room. He gripped the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles went white.


    Pity, Littlefinger noted. Ros had grown close to that man at first, but he must have grown bored of a whore since I didn¡¯t hear anything about them for a while now.


    ¡°Targaryens?¡± the boy king spat. ¡°They¡¯re dead and gone. Anyone claiming that name is a fraud. If you guys are dumb enough to believe all this, I should stick your heads on spikes right alongside whoever took my mother! Whoever is that bastard pretending to be Rhaeger, Viserys, or whatnot, we¡¯ll find him.¡±


    That was stupid and delusional to deny, after everything that happened.


    ¡°...Of course, Your Grace,¡± Tyrion muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples. He¡¯s too young, too arrogant. Gods help us all. ¡°Indeed,¡± he added more loudly, ¡°we have to find Her Grace before word spreads that the Queen Regent got snatched right under our noses. Morale¡¯s shaky enough with Stannis¡¯s army out there.¡±


    Joffrey started yelling orders at Trant, calling forth more guards to give them the same directive. Dozens of footsteps carried out of the place as the situation grew tense. Today, they¡¯d not only lost their Queen, but they¡¯d also confirmed a new piece in this War of the Five Kings. Not just any piece¡­ but a Targaryen.


    Varys¡¯ expression remained calm and unreadable, but his mind was a whirlwind. Who¡¯d have thought my investment in Viserys and his sister would derive like this? Dammit. But if he really can transform into a dragon... he thought, keeping his face neutral, then everything¡¯s about to change. This is not good. Not good at all.


    Varys¡¯ thoughts were carefully masked behind years of practiced neutrality. He knew more ¨C much more ¨C than he was sharing. What an outlandish situation. Is all this a result of the dragon eggs Illyrio and I gave as Dany¡¯s marriage gift?


    Varys and Illyrio had planned to use Viserys as a pawn. It was Varys¡¯ plan, executed by Illyrio, who poisoned Viserys¡¯ into marrying his sister off for an army. When Viserys would have come to Westeros with the Dothraki to rampage around, that was when the main part of their plans would begin. The part where they¡¯d introduce a ¡°hero¡± in this situation.


    Yet, all that went to hell, and Viserys somehow grew dragon wings.


    Must be that¡­ Blood Magic. He does have a Red Priestess beside him. It makes sense. Varys pondered, connecting the dots. This created a lot of problems.


    Across the Narrow Sea, a young dragon was emerging from his shell. Young Griff, as in Aegon Targaryen, the sixth of his name, was busy gathering strength, training for the day he would reclaim his birthright.


    Varys and Illyrio had spent years carefully cultivating this plan, molding the boy into the perfect king. But now, this Draconic Viserys threatened to upset everything.


    A Targaryen on the throne? Yes, that had always been the goal. But not this Targaryen¡­ Not Viserys. He was an unpredictable element who he¡¯d thought dead at the hands of the Dothraki. Yet, he¡¯d somehow acquired a dragon and the backing of major houses.


    Varys kept these thoughts locked behind his placid expression, but under the table, his hands clenched into fists for the first time in decades.


    ****


    I walked back into Hayford Castle, my mind drifting to King¡¯s Landing. The Small Council had to be losing it by now, scrambling to figure out what happened to their precious Queen Regent. I could practically see Joffrey¡¯s face going that ugly shade of purple while he threw one of his usual fits.


    The guards bowed low as I passed through the gates. Nothing like a bit of fear to nail down loyalty¡ªViserion¡¯s little performance this morning definitely left its mark.


    None of them even tried to meet my eyes; they kept their gazes glued to the ground.


    In the castle corridors, my boots echoed off the stone walls. Servants hurried out of my way, pressing themselves against the walls till I¡¯d gone by. The morning sun poured in through narrow windows, laying long shadows on the worn flagstones. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Rounding a corner toward the living quarters, I caught voices from an alcove up ahead. I slowed down to listen.


    ¡°¡ªswear on the Seven, I¡¯m Queen Cersei Lannister. Look at my hair!¡± That voice was so familiar, straining to sound commanding even though it was filled with desperation. ¡°Help me get out, and I¡¯ll make you a High Lady. Gold, lands, whatever you want¡ª¡±


    I stepped in, spotting Cersei waving her bound hands at a terrified serving girl. Both of them froze when they saw me.


    ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡± I walked over and grabbed Cersei by the throat. The maid stumbled back, face going white. ¡°My dog¡¯s that eager to run off? Relax, I¡¯ll take you back to King¡¯s Landing, but not just yet.¡±


    ¡°Take your filthy hands off me, you bastard!¡± Cersei hissed, squirming in my grip. ¡°I¡¯m the Queen¡ª¡±


    The slap cracked through the corridor. Her head whipped to the side, a red mark blooming on her cheek.


    ¡°Get out,¡± I told the maid, who took off so fast she might¡¯ve grown wings. She was gone down the hall in a blink.


    I dragged Cersei into one of the empty rooms, her curses echoing the whole way. Her struggling didn¡¯t do a thing¡ªshe clawed uselessly at my arm while I hauled her along. I dragged the so-called Queen of the Seven Kingdoms deeper.


    Cersei''s gold hair, once such a big deal, was now just another thing for me to yank around. She was a proud lioness brought low, and I was loving every second of it.


    I hauled her into the master bedroom¡ªthe place I¡¯d taken from Tyrek Lannister. Cersei''s eyes darted all over like she was hoping to spot a way out. Too bad for her.


    With one swift move, I hurled her toward the bed. Her back smacked into it, making her groan. She squirmed on the floor, her fancy gown riding up around her. When she looked at me, I could still see some fight in her eyes, but there was fear there, too. Good. She needed to be scared.


    I walked over, my boots pounding on the wood. Reaching down, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her upright. ¡°Bastard-!¡± she let out a pained yelp, trying in vain to pry my fingers loose. Like that¡¯d ever work.


    I loosened my pants, letting them fall to the floor as my cock sprang free. It was already half-hard at the thought of what was to come and of showing her her place once again. Cersei''s eyes widened as she took in the sight.


    "Open your mouth," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument.


    She hesitated momentarily, and I could see the struggle in her eyes. But in the end, what could she do? Her lips parted, quivering slowly, and I slammed my cock into her sloppy wet mouth. The warmth and wetness of it sent a jolt of pleasure through me.


    "Look at you," I sneered, gripping her hair tighter as I began to thrust. "The great Queen Cersei, on her knees, sucking the cock of a Targaryen. How the mighty have fallen, eh? Not that you ever were mighty."


    She gagged as I pushed deeper, her hands moving to my thighs in an attempt to push me away. But I was stronger, and I held her in place. Her eyes watered as I continued, and I could feel her teeth grazing my skin. It only added to the pleasure since her teeth could never make me bleed.


    I used her mouth roughly, not caring about her comfort or her dignity. She was nothing to me but a means to an end, a way to assert my dominance and feel better. And as I felt myself getting closer, I knew that this was just the beginning.


    I pulled out abruptly, my cock glistening with her saliva. She gasped for air, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. ¡°You,¡± she grumbled, ¡°you piece of shit!¡±


    I looked down at her, my eyes filled with contempt. "You''re such a pathetic thing," I spat, starting to laugh. "A disgrace to your family name. But you''re mine now, and I''ll do with you as I please. Turn that ass around."


    The dawn delved into the night before I even knew it.


    **


    **


    **

 [70] When the Dragon Comes

    Chapter 70: When the Dragon Comes


    ¡ª


    Viserys spent the next few days setting things up while also sharpening his spear and sword skills. Every morning started with drills in Hayford¡¯s courtyard, the air filled with the sound of steel hitting straw dummies.


    Sometimes he sparred with the guards too, but they were more likely to end up on the ground nursing bruises than actually giving him a challenge.


    His muscles burned as he practiced the Lightning Dance¡ªthat Braavosi spear style that focused more on speed and precision than brute force. Up on the battlements, Viserion watched like a lazy cat, flicking her tail, clearly bored.


    At night, he studied maps and coded letters, figuring out routes and supply lines. Allies were useful, sure, but only if they moved the way he wanted. The North, the Reach, Dorne¡ªpieces on a board. He was going to make damn sure they landed exactly where he planned to strike.


    Speaking of allies¡­


    The air up there smelled like pine and forge smoke in North. Robb Stark¡¯s war camp was alive with movement; his lords were moving like pieces in a game that only he fully understood.


    Blacksmiths worked day and night, turning plowshares into spearheads. Granaries stuffed themselves with salted meat and barley. Wagons lined the roads heading toward King¡¯s Landing, and Stark riders galloped south, carrying sealed messages for the Riverlords.


    Catelyn Stark wandered through the armory out of boredom, running gloved fingers over freshly fletched arrows. ¡°Double the sentries along the White Knife,¡± she told one of the captains, a grizzled man who smelled of horse and steel. ¡°If Stannis senses weakness, he might raid our coasts.¡±


    The smiths barely paid her any attention until Robb himself gave the same order. She¡¯d lost a lot of authority after that disaster with Jaime Lannister. People still respected her, but they didn¡¯t listen like they used to.


    Meanwhile, Robb¡¯s lords were finally getting their chance to march on King¡¯s Landing. But some of them weren¡¯t thrilled about the idea of fighting for a Targaryen¡¯s claim.


    Robb shut that down real quick.


    ¡°My lords, you embarrass me,¡± he said, his voice calm but sharp enough to cut. ¡°We¡¯re not fighting for Viserys. We¡¯re marching on King¡¯s Landing for the realm, for ourselves. For what they did to our late lord! He¡¯s just making it easier for us.¡±


    Some of them still looked uneasy, so he added, ¡°Besides, we swore an oath. Or would you rather let the Kingslayer laugh at our honor?¡±


    That shut them up.


    Under his cloak, a letter from Viserys was tucked against his chest. It read: Stannis will sail within a fortnight, according to my informant. Be ready.


    Outside Harrenhal, twelve thousand Northmen camped across the muddy fields. Umber axemen sharpened their blades by firelight while Glover scouts patrolled the Kingsroad, looking for Lannister movements.


    The North was almost ready.


    ****


    The Reach was something else entirely¡ªlike a garden growing swords instead of flowers.


    In the shadow of Highgarden, wheat and barley fields stretched out as far as the eye could see, so much food that they could either feed an entire kingdom or starve one to death. Olenna Tyrell had made sure of that.


    ¡°Triple the tolls on the Roseroad,¡± Mace Tyrell ordered his stewards, sweating under his fancy gilded collar. ¡°Let the merchants pay for their own protection.¡±


    Behind him, a bunch of old septons scratched numbers onto parchment, keeping track of the 40,000 soldiers camped from Tumbleton to Longtable. And that number was still growing.


    At night, Margaery Tyrell strolled along the castle walls, all soft smiles and bright laughter. Ladies-in-waiting whispered about her late-night rides with Viserys that fatefully blessed evening, but she didn¡¯t care about the rumors.


    ¡°The singers should spread the tale again,¡± she told Olenna. ¡°The people need to dream about their golden queen.¡±


    Olenna snorted. ¡°Dreams don¡¯t stop arrows, dear. Triple the crossbowmen on the southern walls. I hear Lannister soldiers have been sniffing around.¡±


    Meanwhile, the Hightower fleet patrolled the Whispering Sound, their sails shining green and gold under the moonlight.


    And in the shadows, the real war was happening.


    Maesters burned letters. Kitchen girls memorized serving schedules. A traveling septa with a scarred lip hummed hymns as she sketched Highgarden¡¯s granaries onto silk.


    The Lannisters weren¡¯t coming at them with open war, but the battles in the dark? They were already being fought.


    The Reach was ready.


    ****


    Then, there was Dorne.


    That was where the issue lied...


    The Dornish sun poured through the tall windows, throwing diamond-shaped shadows on the marble table. A few pomegranate seeds were scattered on a silver platter, their red juice staining the metal. Arianne gripped her goblet of blood-orange juice so hard her knuckles turned white.


    ¡°This¡­ this is not wise, Father,¡± she said, feeling like the whole thing was nonsense.


    Beyond the vaulted arches, the Water Gardens buzzed with children laughing and splashing around, which felt strangely peaceful at a time like this. Arianne could feel sweat trickling down her neck.


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Prince Doran murmured, lifting a slice of starfruit with his swollen fingers. S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Oberyn leaned back in his chair, feet propped on the table near a bowl of candied lemons. ¡°You¡¯re the one with all the wisdom and caution, brother, and I¡¯m the one who knows war. And I think your plan is¡­ uh, weak. Not sure it can handle a real dragon¡¯s wrath. That Viserys has a real dragon that can actually breathe fire.¡±


    Doran gently set the starfruit aside, leaving a sticky mark on the big map of Westeros carved into the tabletop. ¡°Fire took our sister from us. I¡¯d rather not talk about flames.¡±


    ¡°Fire didn¡¯t kill Elia,¡± Oberyn shot back, folding his arms. ¡°We both know the Lannisters did.¡±


    Arianne stood so fast her chair screeched. ¡°Fire forged the Iron Throne. This plan¡­ it feels off. Are you getting senile with age, Father?¡±


    ¡°Watch your mouth, girl,¡± Doran said quietly, though his tone was sharp. ¡°The Iron Throne¡­ Elia¡¯s children should inherit it. Viserys acts like he owns the world just because he has a dragon. And weren¡¯t you complaining about him from the beginning?¡±


    Oberyn¡¯s boots hit the floor with a thud. ¡°You say Elia¡¯s children, but do you really trust that boy in Lys? Some sellsword¡¯s brat who claims to be Rhaegar¡¯s son? What proof is there?¡±


    A vein pulsed at Doran¡¯s temple as he unrolled a parchment sealed with a dragon sigil. ¡°Jon Connington¡¯s letters say¡ª¡±


    ¡°Jon Connington?¡± Oberyn spat out a lemon seed. ¡°He¡¯s the one who messed up at the Trident, who let Robert crush Rhaegar! Now we¡¯re supposed to trust him more than the man who¡¯s already an ally? The man who rides a dragon¡ªA DRAGON, brother! The same creatures that turned Harrenhal into melted slag. You saw Harrenhal, as did I.¡±


    Arianne¡¯s nails dug into the table. As always, she shared her uncle¡¯s opinion. Sometimes she wondered if her uncle had bred her mother, and that was where she¡¯d popped up. Because it didn¡¯t make sense how she could be the child of Doran!


    ¡°Viserys¡­ he is offering us our revenge right now,¡± she said. ¡°The Lannisters still hold the throne. That debt isn¡¯t paid, and he¡¯s helping us get it. Why are we switching sides right when he¡¯s summoning our army? This is stupid.¡±


    Doran¡¯s thumb brushed the broken seal on the parchment. ¡°Because I received a letter from Varys. It clears up some things. Vengeance takes patience. We won¡¯t be truly satisfied if Viserys hands the revenge to our plate. We should fight for it, no?¡±


    ¡°Patience?¡± Oberyn let out a harsh laugh. ¡°We¡¯ve been patient for seventeen years, and where did that get us? Meanwhile, this Targaryen is marching on King¡¯s Landing with half the realm behind him. The Reachmen and the Northernmen. When he takes the city, isn¡¯t it best if the Dornishmen are beside him too? Brother¡ª¡±


    ¡°When he takes the city,¡± Doran cuts in, ¡°what do you think he¡¯ll do? Will he choose Arianne as his Queen? He won¡¯t. Worse, he¡¯d be like his brother. Rhager, that fool, did you forget why the rebellion and all happened? Viserys is far worse than him. A king raised without proper schooling, not like¡­¡± He paused, eyeing the empty wine carafe.


    Arianne¡¯s voice was icy. ¡°Not like what? A savage from Essos? You¡¯re scoffing at a dragon just because you think he lacks manners?¡±


    Doran leaned in his chair, letting out a sigh. ¡°I¡¯m scoffing at the man who threatened to let thousands of horsemen rape his sister. His sister, who was also to be his bride in the future. Did you hear about that? He who ran off to Volantis when savage horse riders were out for his blood. He got lucky by somehow getting a dragon. But it doesn¡¯t change the truth. Viserys Targaryen is all fire, no discipline¡ªhe¡¯ll burn out by spring.¡±


    Oberyn swiped the starfruit from Doran¡¯s plate, juice dripping down his wrist like thin blood. ¡°...And what about your precious Aegon, whose identity is still questionable? Even if he¡¯s honorable and all, he¡¯s not a Dragonrider.¡±


    Doran folded his hands over the parchment. ¡°Dragon¡¯s don¡¯t matter. For nearly two hundred years, they didn¡¯t. Illyrio¡¯s letters confirm¡ª¡±


    ¡°Illyrio confirms whatever lines his pockets,¡± Oberyn muttered, knocking a few candied lemons off the map. They landed on the painted Blackwater Rush with a wet plop. ¡°I¡¯ve seen Viserys¡¯ dragon roast a man alive, and you¡¯ve seen it do the same to a bunch of sheep. In a matter of seconds. Isn¡¯t that confirmation enough?¡±


    Arianne moved toward the window, casting her shadow over Sunspear¡¯s pale towers. ¡°According to recent letters, doesn¡¯t Tyene often patch up Viserys¡¯ wounds after he¡¯s done training? He and I¡­ we¡¯re also close. Everything considered, his relationship with us is great. Why are we so stubborn in ruining it, Father?¡±


    Oberyn¡¯s smile was thin. ¡°She¡¯s right, brother.¡±


    Doran breathed heavily as he stood, trembling, hand leaning on the table. ¡°I¡¯m not blind to that, but dragons can be chained. Or killed.¡± He pressed a thumb into the starfruit again, smearing pulp across Lys on the map. ¡°Trust me on this, you two¡­¡±


    A tense silence settled in, broken only by a child¡¯s laughter echoing from the gardens.


    Oberyn got to his feet, eyes narrowed. ¡°This is unwise, brother. You¡¯re the wise one between us, but even I can tell this is unwise. If the dragon is angered, then¡­¡±


    He let the threat hang, then stormed out, leaving sticky footprints on the Stepstones painted on the table.


    Arianne watched her father wipe juice from the parchment with trembling fingers. She grumbled, ¡°I finally accepted a man and have been holding my urges back for him. But you come and scoot him away?¡±


    Doran didn¡¯t look up. ¡°You¡¯ll be Queen if you marry Aegon. He¡¯s your cousin, he¡¯ll love you unconditionally as family often does. What guarantee do we have that Viserys will make you his Queen? He¡¯s got better options.¡±


    ¡°...¡± She ran her hand along the warm stone of the window. ¡°You¡¯re a strange person, father.¡±


    He picked up a date from the scattered fruit, turning it in his hands. ¡°Get the east chambers ready. Our guests will be over soon. And¡ª¡±


    ¡°My cousin¡¯s dead with Elia,¡± Arianne cut in, voice echoing off the mosaic walls. ¡°I¡¯ll put on my silks for your charade. But when Viserys¡¯ dragon comes¡­¡±


    She left the threat unsaid, the smell of oranges drifting around her as she walked out. Doran stayed there, sucking sweet pulp from his fingers, gazing at the juice-stained map where Lys stuck to his thumb like a bad omen.


    Was he truly making a bad choice?


    **


    **


    **


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 [71] The Bay of Flame

    Chapter 71: The Bay of Flame


    ¡ª


    ¡°You''re really leaving me behind, my King?¡± The Red Priestess Melisandre asked, standing by the hearth. Her ruby choker seemed to pulse with magic as she spoke.


    The Painted Table took up most of the chamber, its surface smoothed by centuries of lords tracing borders and plotting wars. Pale light came in through the drum tower¡¯s narrow windows, casting long shadows on the stone walls.


    Stannis Baratheon stared at the wooden markers on the map, his jaw tight. ¡°That¡¯s final. You¡¯re staying here on Dragonstone.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡± she asked, stepping closer. ¡°False King Joffrey¡¯s forces weaken every day. According to your spies, even the Queen Regent hasn¡¯t been seen in weeks. That is good and all, but you still need me to help with this. The Lord of Light has shown me visions in the flames. Your victory might depend on me being by your side.¡±


    ¡°Cersei Lannister missing doesn¡¯t change anything,¡± Stannis answered, drumming his fingers on the carved outline of King¡¯s Landing as he looked at her. ¡°It does hint at trouble among them, and that¡¯s more than enough for me. The decision is final.¡±


    Melisandre¡¯s lips thinned. ¡°Are you certain? What about the rumors of a Targaryen ghost flying over the city with dragon wings?¡±


    ¡°Superstitious nonsense,¡± Stannis snapped. ¡°Dead men don¡¯t fly, and dragons are gone from the world. I won¡¯t have that kind of talk muddying our purpose.¡±


    ¡°My King, the flames don¡¯t lie. As for superstitions, you know what happened to Ren¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± His voice cut through the air like steel on stone. ¡°I need you to stay here, keeping the converts in line. The garrison must stay loyal while I¡¯m gone.¡±


    She stood taller, her eyes shining red. ¡°So you ignore R¡¯hllor¡¯s power? After all you¡¯ve witnessed?¡±


    Stannis was starting to get annoyed now. ¡°I¡¯m ignoring nothing. But this battle will be won by steel and strategy, not magic.¡±


    ¡°You might regret this,¡± she warned softly. ¡°When the darkness¡ª¡±


    Stannis moved fast. He grabbed her by the throat, and her eyes went wide as his grip tightened. She gasped, tears building as she clawed at his hand.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ever threaten me,¡± he growled, then let go. She stumbled back, one hand on her neck while the other steadied her against the table.


    Stannis fixed his doublet, his voice returning to its usual calm. ¡°Once King¡¯s Landing is taken, your Red Temple will have its place. We¡¯ll rid the realm of false gods, and you¡¯ll help me save it from the darkness you showed me. But first, I need my throne. You¡¯re a woman, the battlefield is no place for you.¡±


    Melisandre rubbed her throat, the ruby glowing faster now. She gave him a tight nod, her eyes burning with frustration. Is he, she wondered, is he truly the Warrior of Light, my lord?


    Unaware of the doubt creeping in her head, Stannis turned on his heel and left, his footsteps echoing until they faded into silence.


    ****


    Meanwhile, in King¡¯s Landing¡­


    The Small Council chamber was a mess.


    Tyrion sat at the head of the table, fingers steepled, while the lords around him argued like fishwives. Joffrey, of course, was loudest.


    ¡°Cowards! All of you!¡± the boy-king shouted, slamming his fist on the table. ¡°Stannis marches on my city, and you¡¯re here whining like frightened whores!¡±


    Grand Maester Pycelle coughed into his sleeve. ¡°Your Grace¡­ we must¡ª¡±


    ¡°We must do something,¡± Joffrey cut in, face reddening. ¡°We should ride out and crush him before he even reaches the walls!¡± S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    If I hadn¡¯t known already, this would have been proof enough that he¡¯s not Robert Baratheon¡¯s son. Tyrion sighed and rubbed his temples. ¡°Nephew, if we had the manpower for that, we wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation.¡±


    Varys shifted, his face unreadable. ¡°Lord Tyrion is correct. Our gold cloaks can barely keep order in the streets, let alone fight Stannis in open battle.¡± He looked at Tyrion, smiling softly with an odd glint in his eyes. Tyrion wondered what that was about.


    Littlefinger raised an eyebrow, that mocking smile on his lips. ¡°Maybe we should invite Lord Stannis into the city for some hospitality?¡± the bastard jested. ¡°We could pour him some wine and watch him choke on it.¡±


    Joffrey glared. ¡°Not the time for jokes, Lord Baelish.¡±


    This place feels so suffocating, dammit. Tyrion sighed. With Tywin and Kevan away, Tyrion was stuck in charge. Its weight felt heavy on his shoulders.


    ¡°And what about the other threat?¡± Joffrey asked, cutting through the bickering. ¡°The one with wings who took my mother.¡±


    Silence. Nobody wanted to talk about the presumed Viserys Targaryen.


    Varys cleared his throat a moment later. ¡°My little birds hear all sorts of songs about the realm, but he¡¯s heard nothing about our winged friend. I apologize, Your Grace, but I don¡¯t know where he¡¯s hiding.¡±


    ¡°Hiding¡­ that cowardly lizard!¡± Joffrey shot to his feet. ¡°Keep your eyes open for those Tyrell bastards, those traitors! I¡¯ll have their heads! Every single Tyrell will burn for this!¡±


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± Littlefinger said smoothly, ¡°maybe we should focus on the immediate threat. Stannis will be at our gates in a matter of days.¡±


    ¡°Both threats are immediate,¡± Varys countered. ¡°My sources say the Northmen are also on the move. Looks like Robb Stark joined forces with the Dragon Prince. Lord Tywin might clash against that army very soon.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible!¡± Joffrey snarled. ¡°The Starks would never join Targaryens. Father said¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your father said a lot of things,¡± Tyrion cut in, ignoring the hateful look Joffrey gave him. ¡°Times change. The enemy of my enemy¡­¡±


    ¡°We should lock down the city,¡± Joffrey snapped. ¡°No one leaves. If they try, we hang them. They could be spies for Stannis. Or that flying demon.¡±


    Tyrion and Varys exchanged looks. The boy was getting more paranoid by the hour, and knowing history, that was a very bad thing.


    Littlefinger cleared his throat. ¡°Such a move might stir panic among the smallfolk, Your Grace. We need them on our side right now.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need them!¡± Joffrey yelled. ¡°I¡¯m their king, so they should listen. I ask again, where¡¯s my mother?¡±


    Varys spread his hands in a helpless gesture. ¡°We search nonstop, Your Grace. But if our prior guesses are true about Viserys Targaryen taking the Queen Regent, we can¡¯t find her as long as we can¡¯t find him.¡±


    Joffre¡¯s lips twitched.


    ¡°Enough,¡± Tyrion cut in before he could speak more. ¡°We need actual solutions, not ghost stories,¡± he said, eyes meeting with Varys, who shook his head.


    Varys sighed. ¡°The game is shifting, my lords. And it¡¯s not going our way.¡±


    Tyrion sipped his wine slowly, thinking. If I don¡¯t make a move soon, we¡¯ll all be done for. My dear nephew is lucky he still has a brain around.


    ****


    A few weeks later, the fateful moment came.


    The evening sky loomed dark over Blackwater Bay, with clouds gathering like onlookers for the big showdown. Ser Imry Florent stood at the front of his flagship, watching the water split before them as Stannis¡¯s fleet sailed forward.


    The air felt charged, as if the gods themselves were watching.


    Behind him, about two hundred ships followed, sails billowing in the wind blowing across the bay. The water was strangely calm, almost glassy, reflecting the fading sunlight.


    ¡°My lord,¡± one captain called, pointing toward the harbor entrance. ¡°Look at that.¡±


    A single ship bobbed in the water ahead, its deck eerily empty. No crew on the rails, no flags, and no voices calling out.


    ¡°Abandoned,¡± Ser Imry noted, though his voice sounded unsure. ¡°They probably ran off when they heard how many of us were coming.¡± Two hundred ships were a lot, full of people who previously supported Renly Baratheon. It wasn¡¯t a surprise that Joffrey¡¯s soldiers were scared.


    However, some of his older sailors traded uneasy looks. Something about that lone ship felt off, the way it was parked right in their path. He could feel it, too.


    ¡°Maybe we should send a small boat over to check¡ª¡± one captain began.


    ¡°Keep going,¡± Ser Imry cut him off. ¡°It¡¯s probably just a trick to spook us. King Stannis expects us to show more backbone than this.¡±


    So the fleet pressed on, the strange ship getting bigger in their view.


    ¡­..


    High above on the city walls, Tyrion Lannister raised his hand, his eyes narrowing at the incoming armada. Next to him, Bronn readied an arrow wrapped in oil-soaked cloth.


    ¡°Now?¡± Bronn asked quietly.


    Tyrion kept his hand raised, counting the heartbeats. Waiting until more of Stannis¡¯s ships moved into the trap. ¡°Now.¡±


    Bronn let the arrow fly. It streaked through the dark sky like a tiny orange comet. It slammed into the deserted ship¡¯s hull.


    For a second, nothing happened.


    Then the night exploded in green fire.


    A huge column of wildfire shot into the sky, devouring the empty ship in an instant. The green flames raced across the water¡¯s surface, hitting the front of Stannis¡¯s fleet before they even knew what was going on.


    Screams echoed over the bay as the fire jumped from ship to ship. Wood cracked, masts toppled, and men dived into water that suddenly boiled under waves of green fire.


    Behind the burning ships, giant chains rose from the depths with a heavy clank, gleaming in that eerie light. Stannis¡¯s fleet was now trapped between the city walls and a flaming barrier they couldn¡¯t break.


    Panic tore through the ranks as captains realized they were stuck. Some tried to turn around, crashing into ships behind them. Others tried to break the chain, only to splinter their hulls on its iron links.


    The wildfire spread fast, ignoring the usual rules of nature as it crawled over the water¡¯s surface. Ships that seemed safe a moment ago burst into flames. Green fire licked up their sides like hungry serpents. Men screamed, their voices rising above the roar of the blaze.


    From the walls, Tyrion watched it all. The green glow lit up his mismatched eyes, reflecting the destruction he¡¯d set in motion. Even Bronn looked shaken by its sheer scale.


    The bay turned into a floating graveyard of burning ships, casting a greenish glow across the water. Smoke rose in thick clouds, staining the sky. Men''s screams mixed with the crackling flames and creaking timbers.


    What started as an orderly naval assault had become a scene from the Seven Hells, with Stannis¡¯s men fighting an enemy they couldn¡¯t touch. The fire ate everything, turning Blackwater Bay into a green inferno.


    The Battle of Blackwater had begun.


    Spoiler


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 [72] The Battle of Blackwater

    Chapter 72: The Battle of Blackwater


    ¡ª


    The acrid stench of burnt hair and melted steel filled Tyrion¡¯s nostrils as cheers erupted along the battlements.


    Gold cloaks pounded spears against stone, their laughter sharp and giddy. Below, the bay writhed like an emerald serpent. Ships crackled in the grip of wildfire, their masts clawing at the smoke-choked sky. Tyrion leaned over the parapet, bile rising in his throat.


    Too explosive. Too quick.


    He was the one to prepare the wildfire, but he hadn''t realized how insane the effects would be. This¡­ this was what pure destruction looked like.


    ¡°They¡¯re breaking!¡± a guardsman crowed, spittle flying. ¡°Look at the bastards run!¡±


    Tyrion squinted through the haze. Amid the floating pyres, dark shapes bobbed in the water¡ªmen. Hundreds of them. No, thousands. They flailed toward shore like rats fleeing a burning granary.


    His stomach dropped.


    Somehow, a considerable number of those bastards were alive. Like cockroaches!


    ¡°Archers!¡± Tyrion barked, voice raw. ¡°Loose at the shoreline! Now, you fools!¡±


    The order came too late. Figures already scrambled onto the mudflats south of the Lion Gate, armor glinting wetly in the hellish glow.


    A banner rose from the chaos¡ªa fiery heart stitched onto night-black cloth.


    Stannis. Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Stannis Baratheon, the Mannis.


    The usurper¡¯s men moved with the grim efficiency of cornered wolves. Tyrion¡¯s heart dropped as they formed ragged squares, shields overlapping as they advanced toward the city¡¯s weaker eastern gates.


    Tyrion¡¯s fingernails bit into the damp stone. The Mud Gate¡¯s defenses were a joke¡ªrotting timbers manned by green boys and greybeards.


    ¡°My lord!¡± A gold cloak captain skidded to a halt near Joffrey, who was frozen behind Tyrion. In the meantime, the city¡¯s army rushed out the gate to fight. ¡°It''s bad news!¡±


    ¡°Wha-¡± his nephew cleared his throat. ¡°What happened?!¡±


    Tyrion was also curious what the fuck else could be so important as a time like this? The guard answered soon. ¡°The- the Flea Bottom mobs¡ªthey¡¯re tearing down the Street of Steel barricades!¡±


    Joffrey froze and stuttered while Tyrion¡¯s brows somehow tightened more than they already were. ¡°...Why?¡±


    ¡°Some fool shouted the gates fell.¡± The man swallowed. ¡°They¡¯re dragging chests through the alleys. Furniture. Dead horses. Gods know what else.¡±


    Sevensdamn it. His mind raced while the actual King of this city remained frozen. What should he do now? Let Stannis take a gatehouse, and the city would flood with panicked smallfolk and enemy soldiers.


    He seized the captain¡¯s gorget. ¡°Take twenty men. Kill anyone blocking the approaches. Anyone.¡±


    As the man fled with nods, Podrick somehow materialized with a dented breastplate. ¡°Your armor, my lord!¡±


    The dwarf waved him off. ¡°Fetch me a crossbow. Be fast about it! We¨C¡±


    A clatter of metal echoed across the yard, and the crowd of gold cloaks parted suddenly, revealing Sandor Clegane.


    The Hound shoved past them, soot and blood streaking his battered armor. His eyes looked wild, and there was a tremor in his hands.


    Sandor¡¯s voice rasped. ¡°Someone get me a drink. Where¡¯s the bloody wine?¡±


    Tyrion blinked, stepping forward as some bastard did hand over a bottle of wine to the man. His eyes twitched. ¡°Can I get you some iced milk, too? And some raspberries too?¡±


    The Hound took a sip and scoffed. ¡°Eat shit, dwarf.¡±


    Tyrion¡¯s fingers flexed, but he held back the anger. ¡°You¡¯re on the wrong side of the wall.¡±


    ¡°For who?¡± the Hound cut him off, gaze skittering around like he was looking for threats. ¡°Your precious boy king? Let him find himself another dog.¡±


    A shrill cry echoed from behind Tyrion as Joffrey stepped forward, face red in anger. ¡°You useless dog! I command you to go out there and fight! Defend me!¡±


    Sandor¡¯s head jerked up, and something in his expression snapped. He stared at Joffrey¡¯s face amid all this chaos. ¡°Defend you? Blackwater is burning. Half my men are dead. Why don¡¯t you grab a sword yourself, fucker?¡±


    Joffrey¡¯s shriek rose, cracking on the last syllable. ¡°You dare talk¡ª I¡¯ll have your head, dog! I¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re Kingsgaurd, Clegane,¡± Tyrion cut over Joffrey and spoke. ¡°Stannis¡¯ men are trying to take the city. Your King¡¯s city. You have to fight them.¡±


    The Hound sighed, too tired to deal with this. ¡°Fuck the Kingsguard,¡± he said, ripping off the burnt, half-melted gauntlet on his right hand and flinging it aside. ¡°Fuck the city. Fuck the King.¡±


    His voice shook. And the way it did convinced Tyrion that it was too late.


    A stunned silence fell over the gold cloaks. Even Tyrion¡¯s throat felt dry. ¡°Sandor,¡± he tried anyway, more softly, ¡°the city needs¡ª¡±


    ¡°Let it burn,¡± Sandor growled. Then he stormed past them, shoving aside anyone in his path. Joffrey¡¯s shrill voice howled curses and commands, but the Hound never looked back. He vanished into the smoke.


    Tyrion let out a shaky breath. ¡°Seven hells.¡±


    Podrick stood there, breastplate still in his arms, blinking like a startled deer. Tyrion wrenched it free, strapping it on himself. ¡°All right, Pod, help me with the buckles. Quick.¡±


    Pod¡¯s hands shook as he fastened the straps, eyes flicking to where Sandor disappeared. ¡°Should¡­ should we go after him?¡±


    Tyrion grimaced, checking his short sword. ¡°No time. We have bigger problems right now. The Mud Gate¡ª¡±


    A meaty hand yanked him backward, pulling him amid the crowd of soldiers, and taking him to an alley. Tyrion¡¯s boots scraped stone as a shadow resolved into Varys¡¯ moon-pale face.


    The eunuch wore beggar¡¯s rags that smelled like sour ale.


    Tyrion''s eyes saw red. ¡°Unhand me, you¡ª¡±


    ¡°The riverfront¡¯s lost, my lord,¡± Varys said, grip iron-strong. ¡°No reinforcements will be coming. You understand what that means, right?¡±


    ¡°....¡±


    ¡°It''s alright. The Blackwater has tunnels even Cersei doesn¡¯t know.¡±


    Beyond the walls, a rhythmic thud shook the air¡ªrams pounding wood. Tyrion wrenched free. ¡°That¡¯s the Mud Gate! I designed those reinforcements!¡±


    ¡°You also designed a plan that worked wonderfully, my lord.¡± Varys¡¯ smile didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°And yet here we are. It''s a failure in the end.¡±


    A section of the wall exploded.


    Not fire. Not steel. Men.


    Stannis¡¯ vanguard poured through a shattered postern gate, their shouts merging with the city¡¯s dying screams. Tyrion saw the exact moment his gold cloaks broke¡ªa boy no older than Tommen dropping his spear to puke, then falling with a crossbow bolt in his neck.


    Joffrey shouted and turned to his heels. Tyrion''s brain throbbed in anger.


    ¡°Now, now,¡± Varys insisted, wrapping a reeking cloak around Tyrion¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Before they light the siege towers.¡±


    The dwarf hesitated.


    Somewhere far, Podrick stood guard over the crossbow he¡¯d never fired. Somewhere above, Joffrey¡¯s panicked yelling mixed with the roar of flames.


    The first ladder clanged against the battlements.


    Spoiler


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    ****


    Stannis Baratheon strode through the shattered Mud Gate.


    The stench of burning pitch and spilled bowels clung to the air as his boots crunched on charred wood and broken arrowheads, the red heart on his surcoat glistening with flecks of blood not his own.


    Around him, the remnants of Joffrey¡¯s gold cloaks fled like rats into the maze of alleys, their gilded armor discarded in the gutters.


    ¡°Press the advance!¡± Stannis barked, his voice raw from smoke and shouted orders. Ser Richard Horpe raised the flaming heart banner higher, its fabric snapping like a whip in the scorched wind.


    For the first time in his thirty-odd years of life, Stannis Baratheon tasted true triumph in his veins.


    Not the hollow satisfaction of duty fulfilled nor the bitter aftertaste of grudging alliances.


    This was victory, hot and metallic on his tongue. He could feel it in his grasp.


    The walls were breached. The defenders were broken, and their King nowhere to be seen. Somewhere in this stinking cesspool of a city, that bastard Joffrey cowered while true steel carved a path to the throne that should¡¯ve been his by rights.


    Stannis was sure victory would be his very soon. Anytime now. These scared soldiers, praying for their lives, they''d surrender anytime now!


    The trembling commoners within the city wouldn''t even bother to fight.


    So, Stannis was convinced victory was already his.


    Until¡­ a strange roar split the sky¡ªdeep and resonant, like a thousand forge bellows pumping at once. He barely registered it until he saw the men falter.


    ¡°You there!¡± He, not realising the sound was an announcement of death, seized a fleeing spearman by the gorget. ¡°Eyes forward! The city is¡ª¡±


    The second roar shook the very stones beneath their feet. Stannis turned his head upward, squinting through the veil of smoke. For a heartbeat, he thought it another wildfire explosion, some Lannister trickery left to boil in its own poison.


    Then the clouds parted.


    A Gold Dragon¡¯s wingspan blotted out the moon.


    Men screamed. Stannis did not¡ªcould not¡ªas the dragon banked sharply, its golden scales reflecting the hellish glow of burning King¡¯s Landing.


    The creature¡¯s rider sat astride its neck like some vengeful god, silver hair whipping behind a helm fashioned in the shape of snarling dragon jaws.


    ¡°...Archers!¡± Stannis roared, though his voice sounded distant, tinny. ¡°Loose! Loose, damn you!¡±


    The first volley fell like pathetic rain. The dragon swooped lower, jaws gaping wide, and Stannis¡¯ world became fire.


    Not green wildfire. Not the hungry orange flames devouring the city. This was liquid sunlight made manifest¡ªa river of gold that washed over his vanguard. Men burned where they stood, steel melting to slag in their gauntlets.


    A knight of House Morrigen vanished mid-swing, his ancestral two-handed greatsword dripping molten metal onto the cobbles. The stench of cooked meat overwhelmed even the smoke.


    ¡°Hold the line!¡± Stannis bellowed, though the line had disintegrated. He saw Ser Godry Farring stumbling blindly, face reduced to red pulp beneath a half-melted helm.


    The dragon banked again, its shadow swallowing whole companies of men.


    Melisandre¡¯s warnings. The visions in the flames. A golden beast with wings of flame. Dammit. His teeth ground so hard his jaw ached. ¡°Rally to the¡ª¡±


    Another shower of flame. The street exploded in a shower of shattered stone. Stannis staggered, his ears ringing, as a hand yanked him backward into the relative shelter of a collapsed stable.


    ¡°Your Grace, we must retreat!¡± A voice shouted, and Stannis wished it was Davos. But it was not. It was Ser Richard Horpe, his face streaked with soot and blood. The banner he¡¯d carried lay trampled in the mud, its flaming heart blackened beyond recognition.


    ¡°Retreat?¡± Stannis shoved him aside, still unsure if his eyes were playing tricks. ¡°We hold this ground or die upon it!¡±


    But even as he spoke, the truth unfolded before him.


    Where moments ago a conquering host had stood, only charred skeletons remained¡ªsome still standing in macabre formation, clutching weapons fused to bony fingers.


    The dragon circled overhead, its shrieks piercing the cacophony of screams.


    Then came the horns.


    Not the deep-throated blasts of Stannis¡¯ own reserves nor the panicked trills of Lannister stragglers.


    These were bright and mocking, a chorus of arrogance carried on the wind. Through the haze, banners emerged¡ªendless rows of golden roses on green fields.


    The Tyrell host advanced with the crisp precision of a tourney parade, untouched by fire or steel. At their head rode a knight in emerald armor, his lance-tip pointed casually at the sky. Behind him came thousands¡ªtens of thousands¡ªof fresh soldiers, their armor gleaming as though they¡¯d marched through a sunlit meadow rather than a burning city.


    As if on cue, the Golden Dragon landed with an earth-shaking thud between the two forces, wings folding like an executioner sheathing his blade.


    The rider removed his helm, revealing a face that might¡¯ve stepped from the pages of some ancient Targaryen artworks. Silver hair. Violet eyes. A smile sharp enough to draw blood.


    ¡°Stannis Baratheon,¡± the dragonrider said, ¡°this is your end, usurper.¡±


    Stannis¡¯ sword arm trembled, not from fear but pure, incandescent rage. Every muscle screamed to charge¡ªto bury his blade in that smirking mouth, dragon or no dragon. Yet his legs refused to move.


    Before him lay the smoldering remains of his life¡¯s work.


    Behind, the relentless tide of Highgarden¡¯s finest.


    The man, Viserys Targaryen, raised a gloved hand. The Tyrell ranks halted as one, the sudden silence more terrifying than any war cry.


    The Battle of Blackwater had come to a halt. And Stannis the Mannis had not won.


    **


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 [73] Welcome to King’s Landing

    Chapter 73: Welcome to King¡¯s Landing


    ¡ª


    I stared down at Stannis from atop Viserion, watching his face twist with anger. He clenched his jaw so tight I almost expected his teeth to shatter.


    ¡°Surrender now,¡± I shouted, letting my voice carry across the battlefield. ¡°Your men are burned or scattered. There¡¯s no shame in living to fight another day.¡± S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Stannis spat on the ground, his eyes burning with defiance. ¡°I am the rightful king. I will not bend to a dragon¡¯s bastard. And you say you¡¯ll let me live?¡± he scoffed.


    A smile tugged at my lips. At least the man had more guts than his brother Renly and was much wiser. ¡°Then let¡¯s settle this the old way.¡± I slid off Viserion, my boots crunching on charred bones when I landed. ¡°You and me. Steel against steel.¡±


    Honestly, there was no need for a duel¡ªI could¡¯ve just had my men shoot him down. But the new King killing the usurper with his own hands would make a stronger statement.


    Behind me, the Tyrell soldiers stiffened, and I heard a few quick, panicked breaths. They didn¡¯t know of my physical prowess, so they thought it foolish to take such a risk when victory was already guaranteed. I waved them back. This was between me and the last Baratheon who mattered.


    ¡°A duel?¡± Stannis gave a rough laugh. ¡°You think this is a tourney?¡±


    ¡°No, you know the war customs. Stop trying to talk smart,¡± I said, spinning my spear in my grip. ¡°This is justice. Robert took my father¡¯s throne with a hammer. Let¡¯s see if you can keep it with a sword.¡±


    He didn¡¯t hesitate. He lunged, sword whistling through the air, but I was ready. I let my spear flick up, knocking his blade aside. The Lightning Dance guided my moves, letting me flow around his next strike.


    He was good¡ªI had to admit that. Each blow had enough power to split a man in two. But I was faster, boosted by the System, and trained by the best. His sword kept finding empty space as I spun clear of his swings.


    ¡°Stand and fight!¡± he snapped, frustration dripping from every word.


    ¡°As you wish.¡± I stopped dodging and actually met his next slash head-on. Our weapons locked, and I saw his eyes go wide when I shoved him back, one step at a time. The difference in our strength was painfully clear.


    With a sharp twist, I wrenched his sword aside and drove my spear through his breastplate. The steel ripped through like it was thin cloth, the tip stabbing out his back.


    Stannis didn¡¯t even scream. He just stared at the bloody spear shaft sticking out of his chest, looking strangely confused. Then his knees buckled, and he folded onto the ground.


    The last thing he likely saw was the muddy earth rushing up to meet him.


    A hush fell over the battlefield. Then the Tyrell forces let out a thunderous cheer, echoed by whatever was left of the city¡¯s defenders. Their voices overwhelmed even Viserion¡¯s victorious roar.


    The Battle of Blackwater had ended. And unlike Stannis, I¡¯d come out on top.


    ****


    I walked into King¡¯s Landing through its ruined gates, my boots crushing debris and ashes. Stretching out behind me were countless green-and-gold banners of House Tyrell, waving in the smoky breeze. It felt like an endless tide of soldiers¡ªtens of thousands strong¡ªmarching in perfect ranks. Despite the grime of war, their polished armor still caught the dying light.


    Overhead, Viserion circled, her roars echoing against the battered city walls. Each time she screeched, any defenders left out in the open flinched and ducked behind rubble.


    When we neared the massive doors of the Red Keep, the leftover Lannister men started losing their nerve. I heard swords hitting the cobblestones as they either knelt or slunk away into dark corners. All that ¡°Hear Me Roar¡± stuff didn¡¯t mean much now.


    We shoved open the heavy doors leading into the throne room. Inside, a ragged crowd of people huddled: a few trembling guards gripping spears, courtiers still dressed in torn finery, and random smallfolk who¡¯d hidden there for safety.


    Joffrey Baratheon was nowhere to be seen.


    They stared at us like cornered deer¡ªsome were wide-eyed, others had given up and just dropped to their knees.


    Garlan Tyrell came in after me, followed by a handful of other Reach lords, escorting Margaery. She surveyed the scorched hall with a cool, collected look. Most of the Tyrells were here except Olenna, who¡¯d arrive in a few days. The people parted in front of us, nobody daring to meet my eye, especially with Viserion roaring somewhere outside and shaking the castle windows.


    I stopped at the base of the Iron Throne, eyeing the twisted metal that had taken so many lives. A thousand melted swords turned into an uncomfortable seat. I stared at it, feeling a strange sense of nostalgia. My ancestors¡¯ enemies¡¯ blades were melted into a symbol of absolute power.


    Everyone from the seven kingdoms knew the tale of how Aegon ¡®The Conqueror¡¯ Targaryen burned entire armies down.


    The kings of the seven kingdoms stood no chance against his dragon, Balerion the Black Dread, and either bent the knee or had his sword melted into the throne. Every sword symbolized a person''s life taken when Aegon conquered the continent. The whole room seemed to hold its breath. As I came back to reclaim the realm my ancestors left for me.


    One gold cloak, sweat pouring down his face, staggered forward and dropped to his knees. ¡°Mercy, my lord! We only followed orders¡ª¡±


    ¡°Quiet,¡± I ordered. ¡°Learn to stay quiet when you¡¯re not talk to,¡± I said, and he hurried back into the group.


    My footsteps echoed in that huge chamber as I climbed the steps to the throne. I reached out and ran a hand through the old steel, allowing it to prickle a drop of blood from my skin to let the sensation truly seep in.


    Once I turned around, every pair of eyes in the hall was either looking straight at me or quickly bowing. A sense of finality hung in the air as I sat down. ¡°Such a fine morning,¡± I said, enjoying dawn¡¯s sunlight that rushed through the windows.


    Then Kinvara swept in, her red robes sliding across the floor. The ruby at her throat flickered with a deep glow. She smiled at me once our eyes locked and slowly climbed the stairs. Nobody stopped her, and she stopped beside the throne, turning to the crowd. Kinvara¡¯s smile dropped, and she announced in a voice that cut through all the noise.


    ¡°Behold Viserys of House Targaryen, Third of His Name,¡± she continued, ¡°King of the Andals and the Rhoynor and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm! The dragon has defeated the usurpers and reclaimed his rightful place!¡±


    The Tyrells cheered in response, and the rest of the people quickly followed to show their support.


    I stood up from the throne, the Tyrell lords standing before me like an emerald fortress. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about rewards and celebrations later,¡± I said. ¡°But before any of that, I want my Tyrell friends to help the city¡¯s poor. They¡¯re hungry and terrified. Make sure every mouth is fed this month. That is my first decree.¡±


    A wave of relief and hope surged through the crowd, accompanied by murmured voices. I noticed genuine gratitude flickering in a few faces. Although they had lost so much in the battle, at least now they had a glimmer of possible food.


    Mace Tyrell stepped forward, bowing so low his belly nearly touched his knees. ¡°Your Grace, the Reach¡¯s harvest is yours to command. We¡¯ve got entire wagons of grain and produce waiting outside.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Garlan chimed in, pride shining in his eyes. ¡°Let the people see that their new king won¡¯t let them starve. We¡¯ll get everything organized at once.¡±


    Margaery gave me a warmer smile than usual as she slowly climbed the stairs, bold of her, and stood by my side. ¡°Feeding them is the surest way to earn their loyalty, Your Grace. Will it be alright if I handle the details personally?¡±


    ¡°...Yes,¡± I nodded, satisfied with their quick response. If the smallfolk saw me as the one who brought food and safety, they¡¯d be less inclined to rebel. And the Tyrells were the masters of farmland and distribution.


    ¡°Good,¡± I said. ¡°Have the wagons come in through the King¡¯s Gate, set up distribution in every district, and keep the City Watch around to maintain order. This is relief, not a free-for-all.¡±


    ¡°Right away, Your Grace,¡± Mace said, sending off servants with a flurry of hand signals.


    I felt the tension in the throne room ease a bit. Even those who¡¯d looked ready to soil themselves moments earlier stood a little straighter. Amazing what a promise of mere food can do.


    ¡°My second decree as king,¡± I continued in a clearer, firmer tone, ¡°is a bounty of ten thousand gold dragon coins on whoever can bring me Joffrey Baratheon. Alive.¡±


    The crowd erupted in hushed chatter, eyes going wide. Part of them suddenly appeared hungry in a new way¡ªas if the thought of gathering that gold ignited a spark in their eyes. Meanwhile, others exchanged worried glances, clearly pondering Joffrey''s whereabouts.


    I settled back into the Iron Throne, letting myself enjoy the moment. The Tyrells nodded approvingly, Margaery studied my expression with calm neutrality, and Kinvara bent her head a little. The ruby around her neck cast an eerie red shimmer on the marble floor.


    Then, as if a single mind controlled them, everyone in the hall dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the ground in front of their new king. ¡°W-welcome to King¡¯s Landing, Your Grace!¡± The same gold cloak from before shouted. He caught on quick.


    **


    **


    **


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 [74] M-Mother?!

    Chapter 74: M-Mother?!


    ¡ª


    In less than a day, word of Viserys Targaryen¡¯s triumph at King¡¯s Landing swept through the realm like wildfire. Ravens soared in all directions, sharing stories of a golden dragon that altered the battle¡¯s course, torching Stannis Baratheon¡¯s fleet before the Tyrell forces could fully engage.


    Tales of the duel between Viserys and Stannis spread widely, elevating a quick and fierce fight into a legendary confrontation deserving of ballads. Just as Viserys had planned.


    Whispers of the dragons'' return spread throughout Westeros, prompting nobles to reassess their loyalties. It was clear to the smarter nobles that the Targaryen rule had returned if any of the stories were true.


    But while many houses quickly pledged allegiance to the new Dragon King, deciding to send ravens back, others held back, preferring to observe how the situation developed.


    The news reached the Northern army¡¯s camp right as they were licking their wounds from the latest run-in with Tywin Lannister¡¯s forces near Harrenhal.


    Robb Stark sat in his command tent with fresh bandages around his sword arm where a Lannister blade had nicked him. Around a rough wooden table, a mix of Northern lords and Reach lords sat. Reach lords had brought knights to air Robb in his battle against Tywin Lannister, as per Viserys¡¯ plan. That was why a hundred thousand Reachmen weren¡¯t present in King¡¯s Landing.


    Robb¡¯s face lit up with a rare smile as he finished reading the letter describing Viserys¡¯s triumph. It carried the three-headed dragon seal, still warm from the journey.


    ¡°Well, my lords,¡± he said, looking around at the group, Northmen in thick furs next to the more elegantly armored Reachmen. ¡°Let¡¯s go pay our friend a visit.¡±


    ****


    On the other side of the world, a ship rocked on the dark waters off Dragonstone, carrying a handful of survivors.


    Melisandre, the Red Priestess, stood at the stern, her red robes rippling in the salty breeze as she watched the volcanic fortress shrink into the distance.


    Close by, Ser Davos rested on a makeshift cot, his burns covered in linen that was already marked with blood and fluid. The old smuggler had barely escaped with his life from Blackwater Bay, lucky to have passed out on top of a stone during the initial wildfire explosion. Even now, every breath he drew rattled painfully across the deck.


    Lady Selyse crouched near the cabin entrance, muttering prayers to both the Seven and R¡¯hllor like she was hedging her bets. Her eyes had that vacant look of someone still in shock over her husband¡¯s defeat. His death.


    Melisandre felt almost numb as if she were watching everything from a distance. The ruby at her throat glowed weakly, its power oddly dulled. The visions she¡¯d once been certain of now felt like half-forgotten fever dreams, leaving her questioning everything she¡¯d believed.


    They¡¯d heard rumors that Kinvara, the First Priestess of R¡¯hllor, stood proudly beside Viserys Targaryen as he took the Iron Throne.


    The realization gnawed at Melisandre. Had she backed the wrong king all along? Was Stannis never the Prince who was Promised?


    Strangely, none of Stannis¡¯s followers had turned on her yet. She¡¯d expected it to happen when they heard a Red Priestess supported the man who killed Stannis, but her worry was for naught. Ser Davos, of all people, looked out for her. If anything, the people were too consumed by their grief and guilt to seek revenge.


    Toward the ship¡¯s bow, Princess Shireen sat alone, hugging a leather-bound book to her chest. Tears tracked down her face, cutting across the greyscale scars that marred one cheek. ¡°Bad dragons,¡± she whispered in between sobs, one hand tracing the shiny cover¡ªsome old gift from her father. ¡°Bad dragons...¡±


    Melisandre¡¯s eyes drifted toward the girl. Something about Shireen pulsed with unseen power¡ªlike a fierce heat flickering under her skin. Even the scaly greyscale patches seemed to glow with an inner spark only Melisandre noticed.


    Was it the disease that had done it, or maybe the Baratheon blood mixed with some older magic? Well, Robert Baratheon and his brothers did have some dragon blood. Their grandmother was a Targaryen. Rhaelle Targaryen.


    ¡­I wondered since the day I first saw her, what¡¯d happen to a dragon with greyscale disease? Melisandre¡¯s eyes narrowed. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The girl was barely seventeen, but Melisandre sensed a potential so raw it made her own skin prickle. Prophecies usually spoke of a prince, but languages were tricky, and sometimes the true meaning got lost in translation.


    Perhaps Shireen, with her royal blood and hidden strength, could learn magic beyond anything Melisandre had tapped into. Mel had been to Asshai before, but she couldn¡¯t hope to use the darker, grander magic she saw there because of the restrictions from her lord. But¡­ she could teach them to someone else.


    Maybe Shireen wasn¡¯t Azor Ahai, but she might become something else. A force to reveal false prophets and pretenders who claimed that divine mantle.


    Truthfully, Mel didn¡¯t trust Kinvara¡¯s judgment. That old wench.


    Slowly, Mel stood up and approached Shireen. The ship cut through the waves, leaving behind a place that Melisandre had thought was the closest thing to ¡®home¡¯ in centuries. Dragonstone¡¯s black stone walls vanished into the smoky dusk.


    ****


    Joffrey cowered in a dusty storeroom, his once-fine clothes now stained and ripped. He¡¯d fled the Red Keep and holed up here on the second floor of some abandoned merchant shop. It felt more like a cell than a safe house.


    His stomach rumbled loudly¡ªhe hadn¡¯t eaten in over a day, making his thoughts nastier.


    ¡°That lizard bastard,¡± he growled, pacing on the creaking boards. ¡°How dare he? HOW DARE HE?¡± He nearly shouted, then remembered to keep his voice down. His fists balled up as he imagined what he¡¯d do once he got his precious throne back.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have his head on a spike,¡± Joffrey hissed to himself. ¡°No, first I¡¯ll feed that scaly beast to my dogs¡ªpiece by piece¡ªthen I¡¯ll burn him alive just like the Mad King deserved!¡± It gave him a familiar twisted thrill to picture it.


    However, when Joffrey wondered how he¡¯d take back the throne, everything seemed¡­ messy. He chose not to think about it.


    Suddenly, a clamor broke out in the streets outside, breaking him out of his daze.


    Hooting, jeering, and the sound of many feet shuffling. Joffrey tried ignoring it, knowing he needed to stay hidden, but curiosity prodded him. He crawled to a crack in the wooden wall, pressing his eye against it.


    ¡°Damn peasants,¡± he said. A rowdy crowd had gathered around someone in the road¡­ no, some woman¡ªcompletely naked, arms chained, being dragged through the grime. Joffrey stared, a little fascinated despite himself.


    Even in this humiliating state, she had a strange grace. Her tangled gold hair still caught bits of light coming through the buildings. He¡¯d been offered women before; heck, even his own uncle sent two whores to his bedroom, but while Joffrey wouldn¡¯t call them ugly, they didn¡¯t quite get his thing reacting. But this¡­ this woman¡­


    Joffrey felt a bulge in his pants.


    ¡°Move it, you Lannister whore!¡± someone yelled, yanking the chains.


    What? Joffrey blinked at the insult, and then his heart practically stopped when the woman turned her face in his direction. He knew that profile, the proud angles, now streaked with mud and tears.


    ¡°...M-mother?¡± he breathed, horror twisting his gut.


    Without thinking, Joffrey turned around and ran. He exploded out of the shop¡¯s entrance, face hot with rage. ¡°You filthy dogs, let her go! I order you, as your King¡ª!¡±


    The street fell silent, everyone staring at him.


    In that second, Joffrey realized how stupidly he¡¯d just revealed himself. He saw the way the crowd¡¯s eyes gleamed¡ªnot with pity, but with the greed of gold.


    ¡°Ten¡ª¡± someone shouted. ¡°Ten thousand gold!¡±


    The mob surged at him in a rush of hands and growling faces. Joffrey tried to dart back inside, but they yanked him by his arms and legs, snatching at his clothes.


    ¡°Joffrey! Joff, no! Stop!¡± his mother cried out, voice thick with misery. He barely caught it before something slammed into the back of his head, and darkness consumed him.


    ****


    ¡°Bahahaha,¡± I leaned against the Iron Throne, laughing at the delicious irony of it all.


    So Joffrey decided to show up while Cersei was doing her walk of shame? I didn¡¯t expect that when I decided to bring her back to King¡¯s Landing like that.


    All those Lannisters who strutted around like peacocks were finally getting what was coming to them. Cersei, the proud lioness, stripped bare for the whole city to see. And Joffrey, that little fool, running out to defend her at just the right moment?


    It was almost too perfect.


    Right now, the throne room was empty and quiet, moonlight spilling through the high windows and painting long shadows on the floor. I hadn¡¯t budged from the Iron Throne since I first took it yesterday¡ªway too much to do, and I kind of liked the feel of it anyway. Every second spent here reminded me that I¡¯d won.


    Ros knelt between my legs, her flame-colored hair glowing in the dim light. I threaded my fingers through it, savoring its silky softness while her soft lips and skilled mouth did its work. ¡°Tell me about our guest. How¡¯s our ex-king holding up?¡±


    She stopped bobbing her head, releasing my cock with a pop, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ¡°Still asleep, Your Grace. The milk of the poppy should knock him out for a few more hours.¡±


    ¡°Excellent.¡± I twisted a lock of her hair around my finger. ¡°So, what do you think we should do with him once he¡¯s awake? Didn¡¯t he torture you and your friend at one point? I still remember feeling my blood boil back then. So we need to make sure he learns a lesson.¡± My grin widened. ¡°And after that, a very public execution, of course.¡±


    Ros¡¯ eyes lit up hearing the first part. She must feel so grateful realizing that I remembered. ¡°A-and his mother?¡± Ros asked, an eager spark in her eyes.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be there, forced to watch it all. But we have some time till execution. Robb Stark will not be here until a few days later, we can¡¯t do it before that,¡± I let go of her hair. ¡°So until then, we play. Go get that room ready like I told you.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, Your Grace,¡± she got to her feet, grinning at me as she walked away, hips swaying. She knew how to get a man riled up, being a whore and all. Well, former whore.


    She was now the Mistress of Whispers, as I promised her. Although I¡¯d only make it official after the execution.


    I leaned farther back on the throne, feeling the twisted metal edges press into my back. Other kings might have found it uncomfortable and painful, but the swords merely gave my thick skin a massage. I thought it was a perfect reminder of power. Closing my eyes, I let the satisfaction wash over me.


    It really did feel good.


    Nothing like taking a nap on my Iron Throne.


    **


    **


    **

 [75] A Perfect Lannister Hell

    Chapter 75: A Perfect Lannister Hell


    ¡ª


    Joffrey¡¯s eyes fluttered open, his mind foggy and his head pounding. He saw familiar crimson drapes and a ceiling he was used to, making him frown. ¡°Huh¡­¡±


    For one blessed moment, his frown melted and he breathed the stale air of his childhood bedchamber. Ah, yes. Of course. All of that¡­ it was just a bad dream. He believed for a moment. How else could dragons be a thing? How else could he have lost?


    But when he tried to move, realization hit him.


    He¡­ he couldn¡¯t move.


    Dust motes swirled in shafts of afternoon light cutting through broken shutters. The familiar scent of the room and the faint echoes of the previous day¡¯s events brought him crashing back to reality. His breath hitched as he realized it hadn¡¯t been a dream at all.


    Before he could process the full weight of his situation, a low, guttural moan filled the air, followed by the rhythmic creak of the bed frame.


    The moan came low and throaty ¨C a voice that was familiar, but a sound that was not. His head snapped sideways so fast his neck popped.


    His¡­ his mother, Cersei''s bare back was arching like a bowstring, sweaty golden hair plastered to flushed skin as Viserys Targaryen drove into her with piston-like thrusts that made the rotting bedframe screech. She was dirty, it was apparent that she wasn¡¯t allowed a shower after that naked stroll, and she was being railed in that state.


    Viserys, that bastard, was enjoying his mother while she still bore the shameful marks from the naked stroll! Where hundred thousand men had seen her naked, imagining obscene dreams with her body, it was this bastard who was getting to live them all.


    Her manicured nails clawed at moldering bedsheets as she wailed, not in pain but ragged euphoria. Joffrey''s chair creaked as he strained against silk restraints binding his wrists behind the chair back. What¡­ what the fuck¡­


    His eyes went wide in horror as he took in the scene before him. She was on all fours on the bed, her naked body trembling with each violent thrust from behind. Viserys¡¯ strong, powerful frame dominated the space, his movements relentless and brutal.


    Cersei¡¯s face was twisted in a mixture of pain and pleasure, her eyes rolled back as she moaned loudly. The sound sent a wave of nausea through Joffrey, but what caught his attention next made his blood run cold. Somehow he hadn¡¯t noticed so far that he was tied to a chair, his wrists and ankles bound with thick rope, leaving him utterly helpless.


    "STOP! STOP YOU ANIMAL! I''LL HAVE YOU-"


    Viserys'' laughter boomed through the chamber, his violet eyes glinting as he maintained rhythm. "Hear that, Lannister? Your cub is awake, and he thinks he commands dragons." A meaty slap echoed as his mother¡¯s ass jiggled, and Viserys gripped her hips tighter. "I did this with Theon Greyjoy too, and he was wise to stay quiet. Your son truly is too dumb to read a room, how could he handle a continent?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯LL HANG YOU, LIZARD! FREE ME!¡±


    Joffrey shouted, but the man didn¡¯t pay attention. Viserys grabbed his dear mother¡¯s hair tight from behind, leaning forward to whisper, ¡°Help him understand the situation. Or else I might end him right here. Tell him whose cock you crave, Cersei."


    His mother¡¯s tear-streaked face twisted toward Joffrey, her mascara-blackened eyes glassy. "I-I... ah!... I can''t..."


    "Can''t?" Viserys growled, slowing to cruel, shallow thrusts that made her breath hitch. "Shall we ask the whoreson what he thinks?"


    Before Joffrey could respond, a soft, mocking laugh echoed from behind him. He strained against his restraints, trying to see who was there.


    A figure stepped into his line of sight, and his heart sank. Ros, the pretty whore from the brothel, stood there, wearing translucent silk that did nothing to conceal the whip coiled at her hip. It was the same whore who he¡¯d ordered to beat the other whore that day. Her eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and malice as she stared at him.


    ¡°Well, well, well,¡± Ros purred, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Look at you, Joffrey. So loud, so prideful... and yet, here you are, tied up like a little bird in a cage.¡±


    Joffrey¡¯s face reddened with rage and humiliation. ¡°You dirty slut! What are you doing here? Let me go!¡± he spat, struggling against the ropes.


    The former brothel girl trailed vermilion-painted nails along his twitching thigh. She chuckled and looked at Viserys, "Look at him, Your Grace. The pretender king''s tiny needle sword stands at attention."


    Joffrey''s stomach dropped as he felt the traitorous hardness straining against his breeches. "No! You scheming cun-"


    Her hand slammed against his face, stopping him from talking. ¡°Don¡¯t yell. His Grace will feel bothered,¡± she said in a tone cold enough to make him shiver. And no, I¡¯m not going to let you go, Joffrey. I am going to have a little fun with you as you watch your mother¡¯s pussy and image get destroyed." She raised her hand, and Joffrey¡¯s breath caught as he saw the whip coiled in her fist.


    The whip cracked.


    Joffrey''s scream merged with his mother¡¯s shriek as the lash bit into his groin. Ros leaned close, her breath hot against his ear. "Hush now, false little king. Or maybe you want to get your turn with that Lannister Whore once the real ruler''s finished?"


    Cersei¡¯s head snapped toward him, her eyes wide with horror, but Viserys grabbed her by the hair, forcing her back into the bed.


    ¡°It bothers me that you¡¯re paying attention to him, whore,¡± Viserys laughed, his thrusts becoming even more savage. ¡°He needs to watch. He needs to see what happens when you cross me. The feeling is addictive, trust me. I enjoyed it when Theon watched me take his sister, but damn this is much better. Are you tightening up, Cersei?¡±


    Cersei¡¯s moans turned into sobs as she pleaded, ¡°No, no, I am not! Stop, stop, just stop, you bastard!¡± Viserys frowned and nodded at Ros, who grinned and attacked Joffrey harsher. Cersei¡¯s eyes bulged. ¡°No, No! I¡¯m sorry! Your Grace, yes, Your Grace, my Viserys, please stop! You¡¯re hurting him!¡±


    But Viserys just laughed.


    Joffrey watched as his mother was flipped onto her back with bestial strength, pinning her wrists above her head as Viserys sheathed himself to the hilt. Joffrey¡¯s body burnt as the dragon¡¯s movements became more relentless. ¡°You should have thought of that before you decided to play queen, Cersei, when your son thought he had power. Now, you¡¯re nothing but a slut, and your son is just a pathetic little voyeur. Look at him, lioness. Watch as your darling boy learns what a true king''s seed feels like."


    "Please..." Cersei''s plea dissolved into wanton moans as Viserys ground deeper, the lewd squelch of their sex drowning her whimpers. "J-Joff, don''t look...!"


    But Joffrey couldn''t look away. His mother''s thighs trembled around the invader''s waist, her head thrashing against mildewed pillows as Viserys growled obscenities. All the while, Ros'' wandering whip traced the damp spot spreading across Joffrey''s lap, her laughter light and musical.


    "Beg," Viserys snarled, slowing to excruciating near-stillness. "Beg for this Targaryen cock, or I''ll let your son taste you next. Won¡¯t that be great? Look at his little cock twitch, he¡¯s definitely interested."


    Joffrey¡¯s tears streamed down his face as he watched, helpless and humiliated. His mind reeled with a mix of rage, fear, and disgust, but there was nothing he could do. He was trapped, forced to endure the horror unfolding before him. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As Viserys continued to dominate his mother¡¯s seductive, voluptuous body, her cries of pain turned into something else¡ªsomething raw and primal. She began to cum, her body shaking uncontrollably as Viserys drove into her one last time before pulling out. He flipped her onto her back, mounting her in a brutal, animalistic position.


    Cersei''s wail shattered into hyperventilating gasps. "P-please! Please don''t stop, Your Grace¡­ I need it¡­ ahng, yes~! That¡¯s it. I NEED YOUR COCK!"


    Joffrey didn¡¯t know if his mother was acting to save him from whips or if she truly¡­


    He sobbed dryly as Viserys roared triumphantly. The Dragon King''s hips blurred, and the bed''s protests drowned beneath Cersei''s sobbing pleas for more. Ros pressed against Joffrey''s back, her nimble fingers touching his neck as Viserys'' taunts washed over them.


    "Your false father died gurgling your mother''s name," Viserys panted, sweat dripping onto Cersei''s heaving chest. "I''ll have her screaming mine until the Seven Hells freeze."


    The first hot spurts hit Cersei''s stomach as she clenched around him, back arching in ecstasy. Joffrey''s choked sob caught in his throat as Ros'' hand tightened around his shivering throat.


    "Shhh," the whore said, her soft grip moving with practiced cruelty. "All men are equal at the moment of ruin." She smiled, ¡°All but my master.¡±


    ¡°Ros,¡± Viserys'' call sliced through the humid air like Valyrian steel. Ros froze with her hand still on Joffrey''s throat, the boy''s labored breathing loud in the sudden stillness. ¡°Come here. I have something even more fun prepared.¡±


    She turned toward the throne with a serpent''s smile, golden light from the high windows glinting off the dark glossy whip still pressed against Joffrey''s thigh.


    "As my king commands."


    Her silk robe slid across the stone as she crossed to the bed. Joffrey watched the curve of her hips, that fine ass that he could have had if he¡¯d wanted that day. But like the realm, that ass also drifted away from him, falling into Visery¡¯s grip as he spanked it. It jiggled.


    Cersei lay trembling beneath them, tear tracks cutting through the grime on her cheeks. The dry blood on her forehead from getting stoned before mixed with cum.


    Viserys gripped a fistful of golden hair, forcing the former queen''s face upward as Ros climbed onto the mattress. The scent of sex and sweat was heavy as Ros froze, and then a grin split her face when she realized what the dragon wanted. She straddled Cersei''s face without ceremony, her knees pinning the lioness''s arms to the mildewed sheets.


    "Breathe through your nose, little whore queen," Ros said, grinding downward. Joffey watched his mother gagging on a whore''s thighs, his shaft getting hard again. "Wouldn''t want you missing the show."


    Viserys'' laugh rumbled deep in his chest as he ruffled Ros¡¯ hair. ¡°I really do like you,¡± he said, ¡°so I¡¯ll give you a reward,¡± he said, and his tongue claimed Ros'' mouth. His hands tore at her flimsy garments ¨C silk shredded like cobwebs beneath his fingers, revealing pale flesh mottled with old bruises and fresh bite marks. Ros arched into the violence, nails scoring red trails down the king''s scarred back as their kiss turned bloody.


    "Mhm¡­ Magnificent," she gasped against his lips when they broke apart. Her hips rolled obscenely against Cersei''s suffocating face. "To think they called you the beggar king. Look at you now, conqueror of thrones and cunts both. Don¡¯t you love this?"


    That got Joffrey''s blood boiling. His chair legs screeched against stone as he strained against his bonds. "Mother! MOTHER!" Spittle flew from his lips, his boyish features contorted in rage and something darker. "I''ll kill you! I''ll rip your entrails out and-"


    Viserys didn''t glance at the screaming boy. His violet eyes stayed locked on Ros as he rose to his knees, the muscles in his thighs flexing as he positioned himself above her. "Open. Let¡¯s show the boy what he could never have," he said.


    Ros obeyed like a well-trained hound, kissing the tip of his dragondick, and then tongue lolling obscenely. Viserys gripped her hair with one hand while the other guided his cock between painted lips. Her choked moan sent vibrations through him as he sheathed himself to the root, watching tears spring to her eyes.


    "Good girl," he said, hips pistoning. "Take your king''s fire."


    Cersei''s legs kicked feebly beneath them, the bed''s protests drowned by wet gagging sounds. Ros'' hands scrambled for purchase on Viserys'' sweat-slick chest, her earlier poise shattered as he fucked her throat with relentless precision. Below them, Cersei''s movements grew sluggish, her struggles weakening as Ros'' weight pressed down.


    Joffrey''s screams dissolved into broken whimpers. His head lolled against the chair back, eyes glassy as they tracked the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh. A dark stain spread across his breeches, the acrid stench of urine and weak semen joining the room''s miasma of sex and sweat.


    When Viserys finally spilled down Ros'' throat, his roar was like that of a dragon as it shook dust from the canopy above.


    The whore convulsed beneath him, her climax written in the arch of her spine and the desperate clutch of her fingers. She collapsed forward when he withdrew, crimson saliva trailing from swollen lips as she breathed heavily. Even in that situation, she turned her face toward Joffrey.


    "All... hail... the king," she rasped, laughter bubbling through the mess on her chin.


    The last thing Joffrey saw before darkness took him was his mother''s limp hand slipping from beneath Ros'' thigh, fingers twitching in the torchlight like a dying spider, as Viserys once again slammed into her.


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: This shit was crazy to write ????


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 [76] The Targaryen Dynasty Continues

    Chapter 76: The Targaryen Dynasty Continues


    ¡ª


    Sansa walked behind her brother through the Red Keep¡¯s corridors. Even though days had passed since the Lannisters¡¯ defeat, the throne room still smelled like ash and burned stone. The scent reminded her of the Blackwater, and it made her stomach twist.


    Morning light streamed through cracked windows, falling on the floor where wildfire scorch marks curled like frozen snakes. Servants were on their knees, scrubbing stubborn bloodstains. Their rags left pink smears across the mosaics of three-headed dragons.


    Robb¡¯s boots sounded too loud on the marble as he stepped into the throne room first. Right behind him, the Greatjon let out a laugh that died quickly, replaced by the uneasy shuffle of northern boots. Sansa pressed herself close to her mother. Her grey silk gown felt too thin in the lingering smoke. Catelyn leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss on the head. When Robb glanced her way, Sansa forced a small smile that never really reached her eyes. He sighed in return.


    ¡°Still smells like roasted stags,¡± Roose Bolton muttered, his pale gaze flicking to the Tyrell knights lining the walls. Their green breastplates seemed to shine mockingly next to the northerners¡¯ dented mail and muddy furs.


    Sansa noticed someone who stood out. Margaery Tyrell stood a little apart from her brother Garlan, like a fresh summer rose in the middle of winter. She caught Sansa¡¯s eye and dipped her head in a polite greeting. Sansa dug her nails into her palms. That was the girl, wasn¡¯t it? She felt a swirl of emotions she didn¡¯t fully understand.


    Suddenly, trumpets shattered the quiet.


    ¡°Behold, Viserys Targaryen!¡± called a herald. Sansa¡¯s heart pounded as she turned to look at the tall figure stepping out of the shadows.


    The King of the Seven Kingdoms moved like a drawn sword¡ªsmooth and sure. He wore a black cloak with gold dragons along his shoulders, looking more regal than the last time she¡¯d seen him.


    Close behind him came Kinvara, the Red Priestess Sansa had only heard whispers about. Her ruby necklace gleamed in the sunlight. And in the background stood¡­ Ros?


    Sansa¡¯s brows knit.


    What¡¯s she doing with Viserys? Ros was a whore who¡¯d grown up in Winterfell. But while she¡¯d been a whore from a young age, Sansa saw her as an older sister. That girl was really nice and took care of her at times. Now Ros stood with the king, and a whip scar showed across her knuckles. It made Sansa wonder what had happened in all these months.


    Above them, the castle shook as Viserion roared. Northerners stiffened at the sound. Even the Tyrell knights flinched. A hint of a smile curled on Sansa¡¯s lips¡ªshe couldn¡¯t help remembering how she used to dream of dragons, and maybe she did want to pat Viserion¡¯s head if given the chance.


    ¡°King Robb, my friend,¡± Viserys said, his voice carrying as he settled on the Iron Throne. ¡°The North fought bravely. Harrenhal¡¯s ruins will remember your steel for an age. You have my thanks.¡±


    Robb gave a sharp nod. He showed respect without lowering himself too much. Sansa thought her brother had grown a lot¡ªhe seemed like a real leader now. ¡°Tywin Lannister never made it to help his grandson,¡± Robb said. ¡°Exactly as we agreed. The North remembers its allies, my friend.¡±


    Behind him, the Greatjon grunted in approval while Roose Bolton gave a thin smile. Robb went on, ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t bring you Tywin¡¯s head, though.¡±


    Viserys just gave an easy nod. ¡°It¡¯s Tywin Lannister. I¡¯d have been more shocked if you had succeeded.¡± Then Sansa felt his gaze flick to her, almost like a touch. She instantly looked away, letting her eyes drift to some old artwork on the ceiling showing Aegon¡¯s Conquest. She felt foolish for not meeting his gaze, but it was too late.


    ¡°It¡¯s a shame,¡± Catelyn Stark said quietly. ¡°I would¡¯ve liked to see that man¡¯s head on a spike.¡±


    ¡°Still,¡± Viserys said, now focusing on Catelyn, ¡°your son did what he promised. Allies need trust, and you northerners have proven yourselves.¡±


    Ugh, why did I look away? Sansa scolded herself in her head for avoiding his eyes. She¡¯d had the chance to greet him, and she blew it.


    Robb¡¯s hand hovered near his belt, which held no sword at the moment. ¡°I¡¯m glad this alliance stands strong. Unlike Dorne, we in the North plan on keeping our word.¡±


    Some Tyrell lord snickered, and Garlan Tyrell shot him a glare to hush him.


    Viserys chuckled, the sound warming the cold air. ¡°Wise indeed.¡± He tapped a finger on one of the throne¡¯s jagged edges. ¡°As for Dorne¡­ well, we can discuss them in private.¡±


    Sansa exhaled softly. That was one thing off the table for now. Wait, no, what am I thinking¡­


    She knew about Arianne Martell, the princess of Dorne, and how so many lords might try pushing their daughters on Viserys. But if Dorne wasn¡¯t sending soldiers, if Dorne had betrayed him, maybe she could breathe easier. But she didn¡¯t want to think like that.


    Right then, Margaery Tyrell seemed to drift closer, like she wanted to speak. Sansa didn¡¯t feel ready for that talk and pretended to fix her sleeve. Her mother started chatting with Margaery instead. Meanwhile, Kinvara bent down and whispered something to Viserys, and he nodded, rising from the throne in a swirl of crimson.


    ¡°Before we do that,¡± he said, ¡°we have a more immediate matter of justice to handle.¡±


    The throne room emptied fast. Northern and Reach lords moved like soldiers off to another battle. Robb offered Sansa his arm, and she took it. She couldn¡¯t stop her hands from trembling as they walked out together.


    ****


    Morning light spilled across the wide courtyard of the Red Keep, cutting long shadows from the wooden platform at its center. Two tall stakes, each bearing the Targaryen three-headed dragon, stood on either side of the stage, their crimson banners snapping in the breeze.


    A massive crowd filled the courtyard. Smallfolk came for the grim spectacle, while Reach soldiers in shining armor and gold cloaks tried ¨C and failed ¨C to keep everything under control.


    Above, Viserion¡¯s massive golden form glided, each powerful flap instilling fear among the spectators. With every roar, even the bravest knights trembled.


    ¡°Behold,¡± someone announced, ¡°Viserys Targaryen, your king!¡±


    When Viserys arrived, people moved aside in a rush. His black cloak, which was edged in red, trailed over the stones as he headed for the platform, which Kinvara and a group of Tyrell knights flanked.


    ¡°Everyone,¡± Viserys said, looking over the crowd. ¡°Today, we¡¯re here for a great cause. A deserved justice. The last time you saw something like this was with Eddard Stark, an innocent man framed for false crimes. Today is something truer than that. Before that, let¡¯s welcome the Lannister Whore.¡±


    A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as Cersei appeared next, dragged by two guards. ¡°Argh, let me go!¡±


    A heavy chain leash fastened to an iron collar around her neck clinked with every step. She wore an outfit more fit for a brothel than a once-queen¡ªfabric so skimpy it barely covered her. Her once-bright green eyes were red and wild, and her tangled golden hair clung to her sweaty face.


    ¡°Please,¡± she begged, lurching forward, voice cracking, ¡°someone help us! I¡¯ll shower you with gold!¡±


    The crowd answered with jeers and spit.


    ¡°Whore queen!¡± somebody yelled.


    ¡°Lion bitch!¡± another shouted.


    ¡°Now, let¡¯s welcome the Mistress of Whisper, who¡¯s bringing our main culprit,¡± Viserys said. Then Ros stepped up onto the platform, dressed like a court official now instead of a prostitute. She hauled Joffrey behind her with help from two guards.


    His fancy clothes were in tatters, his wrists locked in heavy manacles. Terror filled his face as he darted his gaze around, seeking a way out.


    When he spotted Cersei, his composure fell away. ¡°Mother¡­ mother, do something!¡± he cried, his voice shaky.


    Cersei tried to rush the platform, but the guards yanked the leash. She hit the cobblestones hard, chain rattling. ¡°My baby!¡± she wailed. ¡°Please, not my son!¡±


    Viserys climbed the steps calmly and deliberately. He drew a fancy sword from his belt¡ªJoffrey¡¯s own blade, its golden lion pommel gleaming in the morning light.


    The courtyard went silent as he said, ¡°Today, I am going to show respect to my Northern friends and do this through their culture. Since I¡¯m the one who called this execution, I¡¯ll swing the sword myself.¡±


    At the edge of the crowd, Sansa stood with her mother, her brother Robb, and some grim Northern lords. Not far off, Margaery and Garlan Tyrell looked on. Garlan seemed uneasy at the scene but stayed firm by Viserys.


    Cersei collapsed to her knees, the chain rattling. ¡°Y-Your Grace, please! He¡¯s just a boy, my firstborn¡ªshow mercy! Just lock him up in the dungeon, please!¡±


    Viserys stared at her, letting the tension build, then spoke in a strong voice: ¡°This is not a boy. This... is a false king who tormented and murdered the realm¡¯s people¡ªhe starved them, abused them. His crimes go on and on. Is he truly Robert Baratheon¡¯s son, even?¡±


    He didn¡¯t wait for her answer and listed Joffrey¡¯s brutal deeds: killing off Robert¡¯s bastards, tormenting Sansa, and bringing chaos to King¡¯s Landing.


    With each crime, the crowd¡¯s anger grew.


    ¡°Lies!¡± Joffrey screamed, voice cracking. ¡°They¡¯re all lies!¡± But the crowd¡¯s rage drowned him out. ¡°I have the Baratheon blood! You filthy peasants! I am your king! Kneel before me!¡±


    ¡°By the power of House Targaryen,¡± Viserys cut through his voice, his tone deadly calm, ¡°and with the North, the Reach, and this city watching, I sentence Joffrey Lannister, the incest-born son of Cersei and Jamie Lannister, to die.¡±


    Joffrey¡¯s face lost all its color. His head snapped toward his mother¡¯s. ¡°M-Mother, you have to stop this! Tell them! Tell them I¡¯m the king!¡±


    Cersei¡¯s wail cut through the air. She clawed at her collar. ¡°No! Please, I¡¯m begging you!¡±


    "Where''s that mighty lion now?" Ros muttered and stepped back, looking satisfied, while Viserys approached Joffrey. The boy tried to spit at him but only dribbled on his chin. His knees quivered as Viserys raised the lion-pommeled sword.


    Time seemed to slow. The crowd held its breath.


    ¡°Mommy¡­!¡± His legs trembled, and he pissed himself.


    The blade sliced down with a solid thud. Joffrey¡¯s head rolled across the platform, blood spurting in a harsh arc before his body collapsed. A gasp tore through the spectators, followed by scattered cheers. Flicking blood off the sword, Viserys locked eyes with Cersei.


    ¡°I know this angers you, bitch. But be careful. You¡¯ll watch the same thing happen to your other two children,¡± he warned, voice cold, ¡°if you ever move against me.¡±


    Cersei¡¯s eyes burned, but then they darkened in fear as she sank onto the stones, chain clanking as she sobbed. Above, Viserion let out a roar that rattled the keep¡¯s walls. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Viserys tossed the bloody sword aside, not caring about the red stains on his cloak. He scanned the crowd¡ªNorthmen, Reachmen, and townsfolk¡ªradiating a power no one dared question. ¡°The dragons have reclaimed their throne. Let all who defy us meet the same fate. From now on,¡± he announced, ¡°the Targaryen Dynasty continues.¡±


    Behind him, Joffrey¡¯s body lay cooling while Cersei wept at his feet.


    Spoiler


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 [77] The Queen of Thornes

    Chapter 77: The Queen of Thornes


    ¡ª


    Margaery¡¯s palms stung from clapping, but she didn¡¯t stop. Not until the last drop of Joffrey¡¯s blood seeped into the cracks between the cobblestones. A roar louder than all the applause combined shook the city.


    Her gaze lifted from the dark stain to the sky, where Viserion circled like a gilded vulture. She couldn''t help but smile.


    That dragon¡­ it''s mine. Or it would be once the man who rode it became hers.


    She turned her smile toward Viserys as he acknowledged the roaring crowd, his face impassive beneath the splatter of crimson. When he pivoted to leave, she was already at his side, slipping her arm through his with practiced ease. The gesture drew approving murmurs from the onlookers¡ªtheir king and their rose, united. Viserys didn¡¯t stiffen or pull away, his stride steady as they descended the platform.


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± she said, sweetening her voice just enough to carry over the fading cheers. ¡°A decisive stroke. The realm will sleep safer tonight.¡±


    He hummed noncommittally, eyes forward. Margaery kept her smile fixed, though her mind raced. Why hasn¡¯t he announced the marriage yet? The question gnawed at her each time courtiers bowed to them as a pair, each time his hand brushed hers during feasts.


    Her father¡¯s impatience had become a daily nuisance, but Margaery knew better than to push. He was the first dragonrider in two centuries, and she didn''t want to piss off her to-be husband. Her father would achieve nothing but scorn. So she''d chosen to leave this to her grandmother.


    Olenna Tyrell''s ship would dock within days. Let the Queen of Thorns handle the prickly details.


    As they passed the Stark contingent, Margaery¡¯s grip tightened imperceptibly on Viserys¡¯ arm. Sansa stood half-hidden behind Lady Catelyn, her Tully-blue eyes fixed on the king with a look Margaery couldn¡¯t quite parse¡ªawe? Longing?


    Foolish girl. What did she do to blow up such an opportunity? Margaery had heard about the fantasy-like rescue story of Sansa, and she''d grown worried when later news about Viserys granting the North independence surfaced. That had made her heart beat faster, thinking she''d lost to Sansa.


    But given how that girl was hiding behind her mother, refusing to meet eyes with Viserys, she realized those worries were nonsense.


    The North had its independence, but here in the South, Sansa was just another wide-eyed pawn. Margaery¡¯s lips curved higher. Let the wolf pup stare. The same went for the three Sand Snakes; she¡¯d heard that they were in the castle, but they didn¡¯t show themselves to the public after Dorne¡¯s betrayal. Margaery was curious what he¡¯d do to them.


    Viserys¡¯ attention had already moved on, his focus sharpening as a Tyrell captain approached to report on the city¡¯s grain stores. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°Take Cersei Lannister back to her chambers. Be sure she doesn''t kill herself,¡± Viserys said, dismissing the man before turning to Margaery. His thumb grazed her wrist, a fleeting touch that warmed her skin through the silk sleeve. ¡°Walk with me to the council chambers. I''d prefer company after the bloodbath earlier.¡±


    ¡°Of course, my love,¡± she said, her voice doing nothing to quiet down, as she fell into step. The dragon¡¯s shadow passed over them again, and Margaery didn¡¯t bother hiding her upward glance.


    Soon, she promised herself. When grandmother arrives, they''d make him see. A dragon needs his rose, after all.


    ****


    Robb leaned against the cold stone windowsill, watching torchlight flicker across the maze of alleys below. The scent of charred wood still clung to the city, mingling with the salt breeze from Blackwater Bay.


    His head was hurting from all these thoughts, just when warm arms circled his waist from behind. "You should be celebrating," Talisa murmured into his back, her breath tickling through his linen tunic. "The man who ordered your father''s death just lost his head. So what are you doing, staring like that?"


    He covered her hands with his own, calloused fingers brushing over smooth skin. "Aye. And I''d toast to it properly if..."


    "If?"


    Robb turned in her embrace, finding her dark eyes still heavy with sleep. Moonlight caught the silver threads in her nightdress, making her look like some spirit from Old Nan''s tales. "Did you see Sansa at the execution? How she trembled?"


    Talisa''s thumbs traced idle circles over his hips. "She''s gentle. Not made for bloodshed."


    "Gentle doesn''t explain why she looks away every time Viserys glances her way." The memory curdled in his gut¡ªSansa shrinking behind their mother''s shoulder in the throne room, Viserys'' violet eyes lingering a heartbeat too long before turning coldly away. "I meant to propose a match between them. Secure the North''s position. But now..."


    "Now you play the disappointed matchmaker?" Talisa''s laugh was soft, edged with knowing. "You, who tore up the Frey contract for a foreign nurse?"


    He caught her wandering hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "This is different. She wants him. Even if she looks away, it¡¯s obvious she wants him. They¡¯re having a quarrel. But I''ve seen how she¡ª"


    "Puppy eyes and blushes don''t make a queen. Plus, we don¡¯t know for sure unless she says she really does like him," Talisa stepped back, the loss of her warmth making the chamber feel suddenly cavernous. "Or would you force her into a cage of politics, like how you were almost pulled into one?"


    The accusation stabbed him. Somewhere in the keep, a door slammed, the sound echoing through the ancient stones, stopping the awkward silence from settling.


    "She''s not you," Robb said at last. "She was raised for this. Trained to¡ª"


    "To smile while her heart breaks? Accept a man who¡¯s flaunting another woman in front of her?" Talisa crossed to the bedside carafe, pouring two cups of honeyed wine. The liquid glowed amber in the weak moonlight. "You Starks. So quick to martyr yourselves on duty''s altar."


    He accepted the cup but didn''t drink. "If the Tyrell girl secures him first..."


    "Then perhaps your dragon king prefers roses to wolves." She sipped her wine, watching him over the rim. "Or perhaps he''s waiting to see which party offers the best. So far he¡¯s been a political mind."


    Robb snorted. "Oh please. My sister is a far better option, both as a person and as a political chip than Margaery Tyrell."


    She laughed, "Well, the Tyrell girl is pretty too, and she knows when to make her move. I¡¯ve seen it. Plus, she comes with a hundred thousand swords and a grandmother who reminds people of Tywin Lannister." Talisa set her cup down with a sharp click. "But I do respect my sister-in-law and would be in pain to see her hurt. So if you ask me how to make her win over the Tyrell girl¡­ I say send your mother to Viserys to talk about the marriage. If anyone can¡ª"


    "Mother would sooner strangle Viserys than let him near Sansa again."


    "Come on, they just need to have a conversation," she said. ¡°I¡¯m sure her opinion about Viserys is much better now after she saw him kill Joffrey with his own hands, respecting your people¡¯s tradition. Whatever your mother is, she¡¯s a noble lady who knows when to respect people.¡±


    "...Still, I don''t think he¡¯d be convinced, dear wife," he sighed. The wine turned sour on his tongue. He set it aside, staring at the artistic drawing across the chamber¡ªa battle scene from the Dance of Dragons, threads fraying where the fire had licked the edges.


    She replied with a plain smile. She¡¯d already said her bit.


    Outside, Viserys¡¯ dragon roared loudly and shook the night, closer than before. Robb moved to the window in time to see golden wings blot out the stars, circling toward the Dragonpit. When he turned back, Talisa was already climbing into bed, dark hair fanned across the pillows like spilled ink.


    She smiled at him from there. "Whatever choice you make, make it fast," she gestured at him with a finger, and he felt drawn toward it. When his head rested on her arms, she kissed his head. "When I passed by earlier, I heard that Olenna Tyrell''s ship would dock within the next few days. Despite being an outsider from Essos, even I know it''d be too late then."


    Olenna Tyrell''s presence alone would change the game.


    ****


    While the entire realm worried about when she¡¯d arrive, Olenna was in her ship, humming and enjoying some snacks.


    The river lapped lazily against the hull as she popped a candied plum into her mouth. Her chambers aboard The Thorn¡¯s Delight smelled of rosewater and parchment, the air swirling with the kind of silence only a woman who¡¯d outlived three husbands could appreciate.


    Through the latticed window, she felt like she could watch King¡¯s Landing loom in the distance¡ªeven though it was half a day¡¯s ride on horseback after getting down this ship. She should be there by the next evening.


    How pitiful, she mused, brushing sugar from her skirts. I spent decades fighting against the Lannister, only to miss the moment the lion cub king¡¯s head rolls.


    The raven¡¯s account of Joffrey¡¯s execution still lay open on her desk, its ink smudged from her grip. Mace had repeated the details twice in his letter¡ªhow the boy-king had pissed himself, how Viserys swung the sword one-handed like he was chopping firewood. A shame she hadn¡¯t been there to whisper a final quip in the little monster¡¯s ear.


    At this age, she was used to missing out on seeing world-changing events with her own two eyes. Few were lucky to witness such things.


    ¨C Knock Knock!


    Gentle knocks rattled the cabin door, pulling her out of her thoughts.


    ¡°Is it the lemon cakes? Come in,¡± she called without looking up. The Arbor gold had left her tongue craving something tart. ¡°And for the love of the Seven, tell the captain to stop tacking. This wobbling¡¯s fit to turn my stomach!¡±


    The hinges creaked. There was no clink of porcelain and no simpering apology.


    Olenna turned just as the door clicked shut. A hooded figure stood between her and the exit, hands gloved, face shadowed. Her pulse quickened¡ªa novelty at her age.


    ¡°How droll,¡± she drawled, rising slowly. Her joints protested, but she¡¯d be damned if she¡¯d cower. ¡°Did Tywin Lannister send you? Tell him if he wanted a reunion, he could¡¯ve¡ªmmph!¡±


    The man had moved like a blur, and his hand clamped over her mouth, leather and iron pressing her lips shut. The other arm snaked around her torso, lifting her clear off the floor. She kicked, her slipper flying off to smack a Myrish vase. It shattered.


    ¡°Shhh,¡± his voice rumbled behind her ear. It was young, male, faintly amused. She almost¡­ recognized it. What the hell? No way, is that¡­?


    At this age, she couldn¡¯t struggle more than that. So she bit down hard. The glove tasted of lye and something metallic. Her captor didn¡¯t flinch. The hood fell back.


    Viserys Targaryen smiled at her reflection in the window¡ªall sharp angles and colder eyes than the polite boy who¡¯d visited Highgarden. His eyes seemed to announce that whatever cooperation and cowardice he¡¯d shown during their first meeting, it was all an act. All to get her working with him.


    His free hand raised a dagger, its hilt carved with Lannister lions. Clever, she thought, even as her heart stuttered. Frame the corpse for Tywin¡¯s brood. Leave the Reach scrambling.


    ¡°Sorry, granny.¡± The blade hovered at her ribs. ¡°You¡¯re too dangerous to be kept alive.¡±


    She met his gaze in the glass, chin high. Let him see her laugh lines, her unblinking stare. Let him remember this.


    The steel slid between her bones like a hot knife through butter. Darkness came swift. The last thing she tasted was candied plum. ¡°Rot in hell,¡± his voice grew distant.


    Spoiler


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 [78] The Vipers’ Decision

    Chapter 78: The Vipers¡¯ Decision


    ¡ª


    Olenna Tyrell hadn¡¯t done anything wrong against me yet. Not directly. But that was the problem with clever old women who thought their tongues sharper than Valyrian steel. She¡¯d sneered at me in Highgarden, hadn¡¯t she? Dismissed me as some upjumped exile until she saw my fancy pet.


    I had let her live then because I needed the Reach¡¯s armies, their grain, their gold. Because Margaery¡¯s simpering act had been useful. But now? Now the realm knew dragons didn¡¯t kneel to rose gardens.


    On top of that, I was more than just my dragon. She had no use, and by tomorrow, the news of her death will announce the weakness of House Tyrell.


    ¡°Status,¡± I said, my wings flapping against the wind as I waited for the shimmering box.


    === Page [?] ===


    Viserys Targaryen


    The Dragon King


    22 Years Old


    Level 47


    54 STR Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    57 END


    54 DEX


    58 INT


    55 LUC


    150 AUTH


    === Page [?] ===


    === Page [?] ===


    Class: The Dragon King


    Skills: Dragon Management System [S], House of Dragons [S], Fire Resistance [E], Dragon Wings [F], Spearmanship [A], Swordsmanship [C], Dragondick [D].


    === Page [?] ===


    The growth made me smile. It had barely been a year since I came to this world, and I¡¯d already grown so much. I¡¯d already taken back the throne.


    I gained a bunch of levels during the massacre of Blackwater Bay, it was the greatest jump so far. Almost 15 levels! My Spearmanship also ranked up to [A] after killing Stannis Baratheon.


    I still had people to take care of, though. Tywin Lannister was alive, and so was Tyrion and that eunuch bastard. Most importantly, my sister. Well, more importantly, the White Walkers north of the wall. But I had time to prepare for them.


    Waving the Status Page away, I focused on my surroundings to land safely. I landed silently on the balcony, wings dissolving into my back like smoke. Just then, another system notification flashed.


    [Skill Dragon Wings (F) has risen to Dragon Wings (E)!]


    What a timing. I felt like I was growing stronger every second, making me smile. Still, I¡¯d still die against an army, so I couldn¡¯t relax just yet. A few more years.


    The moon hung low over King¡¯s Landing, casting long shadows across the chamber of the King. ¡°Hm?¡± Three figures turned as I stepped inside¡ªObara, Nymeria, and Tyene. I frowned, but their postures relaxed when they recognized me.


    ¡°Oh my,¡± Nymeria purred, leaning against the bedpost. Her fingers toyed with the laces of her leather jerkin. ¡°We¡¯ve been waiting. Thought you¡¯d be off tupping that Tyrell girl or your little spy mistress, but you¡¯re back early.¡±


    I shrugged off my cloak, tossing it over a chair. ¡°And yet here you are. What¡¯s this about?¡±


    Tyene stepped forward first, hips swaying like a Dornish viper coiling to strike. ¡°Dorne hasn¡¯t sent troops,¡± she said, voice sweet as poisoned honey. Her hands slid up my chest, nails scraping lightly through the fabric. ¡°We¡¯re¡­ concerned. Worried you¡¯ll decide we¡¯ll betray you too like our stupid uncle did. So we thought we should talk.¡±


    Obara snorted, crossing her arms. ¡°Yep. I say we gut the current Martells ourselves and be done with¡ª¡±


    Nymeria cut her off with a glare. ¡°What she means,¡± she said, stepping closer, ¡°is we¡¯d like to prove our use.¡± Her breath warmed my neck as her lips brushed my ear. ¡°In whatever way pleases our king.¡± Her hand tucked my shirt, undoing the buttons.


    I laughed as my shirt fell, but caught her wrist before she could undo my belt. ¡°Seduction? Really? You three?¡±


    Tyene pouted, in her false innocence. ¡°You don¡¯t find us tempting?¡±


    ¡°I find you desperate right now,¡± I said. ¡°I won¡¯t think you¡¯ll betray me. We¡¯ve spent so much time together, right? It¡¯d be stupid to betray me now, knowing my strength and all.¡±


    Obara¡¯s hand twitched toward her spear propped against the wall. ¡°Exactly. Well, you¡¯re right. We¡¯re desperate. We¡¯re desperate to feel safe. So just¡ª¡±


    ¡°You are.¡± I stepped back, eyeing them. Nymeria¡¯s cheeks flushed, whether from anger or shame, I couldn¡¯t tell. ¡°But fine. Let¡¯s say I¡¯m convinced. What then? You¡¯ll warm my bed, and I¡¯ll forget your useless prince can¡¯t tell his ass from a spearpoint? Dorne will pay its price for betrayal, this won¡¯t change anything.¡±


    Tyene¡¯s smile didn¡¯t reach her eyes. She turned abruptly, striding to the side table where a carafe of wine sat. ¡°Let¡¯s start with a drink, you sound too angry,¡± she said, pouring deep red liquid into two goblets. ¡°To¡­ trust.¡±


    She tilted her head back, throat working seductively as she drained her cup. A trickle of wine escaped the corner of her lips, trailing down her neck. Holding my gaze, she offered the other goblet. ¡°Your turn.¡±


    My fingers twitched as Tyene offered the goblet, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird beneath that delicate throat. The wine¡¯s scent hit me gently¡ªbitter almonds beneath the cloying sweetness. Normal people would never be able to detect it. I did. Idiots.


    I moved faster than any of them could blink.


    Tyene¡¯s eyes bulged as I grabbed her throat and slammed her against the stone wall, her feet dangling a hand¡¯s breadth above the floor. The goblet shattered, staining the rug blood-red.


    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know widow¡¯s blood when I smell it?¡± I hissed. ¡°I¡¯m stupefied as to why you¡¯re taking such risks when you¡¯ve seen I hadn¡¯t hung you for your nation¡¯s crime.¡±


    ¡°Release her!¡± Obara lunged first¡ªgrabbing a spear from the display and arcing toward my ribs with a hunter¡¯s precision. Nymeria followed, hidden dagger drawn low for a gutting strike.


    I kicked Obara¡¯s spear sideways into Nymeria¡¯s path, metal screeching as the blade deflected off the shaft. My heel caught Obara square in the sternum, sending the fool crashing into the bed frame. A twist of my hip and Nymeria ate a boot to the diaphragm, crumpling against the hearth with a gasp.


    Tyene¡¯s choked laughter bubbled wetly. Crimson trailed from her nostrils, her lips blooming purple. ¡°S-such¡­ vigor¡­ Ah, I knew this plan was¡­ stupid¡­¡±


    Obara crawled toward her spear. Nymeria clutched her ribs, wheezing.


    ¡°Obara, stop!¡± Nymeria¡¯s voice cracked, and she turned toward me. ¡°Please, let her go! The pendant¡ªaround her neck¡ª¡±


    Tyene¡¯s fingers clawed at my wrist, her legs kicking weakly as blood started trickling down her nose and ears. I tightened my grip, watching her face darken. ¡°And why shouldn¡¯t I let her choke?¡±


    Obara spat blood. ¡°We- she didn¡¯t want this! We convinced her. We thought we were betraying Dorne by going against Doran¡¯s decision to cut ties with you! B-but Tyene didn¡¯t want this, so please let her go. Kill us instead!¡±


    Nymeria crawled forward, tears cutting through the soot on her cheeks. ¡°This was just a bad decision. We¡¯re sorry, we¡¯re at fault. Please, please¡ª¡±


    I tilted my head. ¡°Begging doesn¡¯t suit vipers.¡±


    ¡°Fuck¡­ stop this, sisters¡­ begging is¡­ pathetic,¡± Tyene rasped, her eyes rolling back. ¡°If we¡¯ve committed a crime, we should be punished for¡­ it!¡±


    I dropped her. She hit the floor gasping, fingers scrambling for the silver pendant shaped like a coiled serpent that had separated from her. I crushed her hand under my boot.


    ¡°Arianne Martell, of all people,¡± I said, plucking the pendant free, ¡°sent a rather illuminating raven. Your dear Uncle Doran¡¯s been cozying up to some Lyseni brat claiming to be Rhaegar¡¯s son. Do you even know what¡¯s going on there? Stupid bitches.¡±


    ¡°....¡±


    ¡°Oberyn doesn''t support Doran in this, but at the same time, he won''t betray his brother by sending me a letter. But somehow, Doran''s daughter got so addicted to my cock that she betrayed him by letting me know. I want to kill you both. But¡­ well, since Arianne said Oberyn doesn''t support it, I''ll let you off this one. I hope you realize you''re Oberyn''s daughters, and not Doran''s. So don''t act up. I will lock you up though."


    Then I pressed the pendant into Tyene¡¯s slack mouth, forcing her to swallow the antidote capsule hidden inside ¡°¡ªHow did you guys decide poisoning me was smarter than begging for forgiveness?¡±


    Tyene convulsed, vomit splattering the tiles as the antidote took hold.


    Obara bared bloodied teeth. ¡°You should have told us about this, then!¡±


    ¡°Nah, it was interesting to see who you¡¯d choose in such a situation,¡± I said with a sigh. I¡¯d been wandering about what to do with them, waiting it out, but they ended up making a bad choice. I clapped twice. Guards flooded the room. ¡°Take them to the black cells. Let them ponder familial loyalty in the dark.¡±


    As they dragged the sisters out, Tyene croaked, ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry, ugh¡­¡±


    I laughed. ¡°Regret¡¯s for men who can¡¯t fly. I¡¯ll pay you a visit later.¡±


    The guards dragged them away, and I approached the door to stare at them. Speaking of guards, I¡¯d need my own King¡¯s Guards. It was such a pain to choose, though. Do I hold a tourney or what?


    Then I paused, staring at someone interesting who was standing outside, seemingly having come here out of coincidence right when I was sending girls to the dungeon.


    Catelyn Stark stood frozen on the threshold, her gaze darting from the girls being dragged away and then my bare chest. A muscle twitched in her jaw.


    ¡°Enjoying the view, Lady Stark?¡± I grabbed a discarded tunic, not bothering to put it on.


    She stiffened, raising her head. ¡°I require an audience.¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡± I stepped closer, watching her eyes refuse to drop below my collarbone. ¡°Usually, people make reservations for a King¡¯s audience. But uh¡­ sure thing, since you¡¯re the one asking for it.¡±


    ¡°....¡±


    ¡°By all means.¡± I swept an arm toward the ravaged chamber. ¡°Come in. Let¡¯s discuss family.¡±


    **


    **


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 [79] A Wolf’s Deal With a Dragon

    Chapter 79: A Wolf¡¯s Deal With a Dragon


    ¡ª


    The candlelight cast shadows across Catelyn¡¯s face as she stood there, like a statue in Stark grey. Her eyes flickered to the shattered vase near the hearth¡ªthe Sand Snakes¡¯ parting gift¡ªbefore snapping back to me. I stretched my legs wider, feeling the chair creak.


    ¡°...Your Grace,¡± she spoke up a moment later, and her voice was colder than a winter stream. ¡°I appreciate the audience at this late hour.¡±


    I swirled the wine in my cup, watching the droplets cling to the rim. ¡°It¡¯s alright. I don¡¯t need much sleep, the dragon blood is strong in me. But I don¡¯t think you came here to admire my decor.¡± I gestured to the overturned table and the splintered leg of a chair. ¡°Let¡¯s get to the point, Lady Stark.¡±


    Her jaw tightened at my blunt tone. ¡°This is about my daughter¡­ and you. I recall how close you two were.¡±


    I barked a laugh. ¡°Sansa?¡± The name dripped mock sweetness. ¡°Interesting, why¡¯re you bringing her up? We shared a few rides and a few whispers. But nothing else. Just so you know¡ªher maidenness is intact. Wouldn¡¯t want to give you another reason to hate me since you already hate me so much.¡±


    Catelyn shook her head. ¡°You have the wrong idea of me then, Your Grace. That was before the war.¡±


    ¡°Ah, right. The war.¡± I leaned forward, the chair groaning. ¡°The war where I roasted your enemies, took your city, saved your sons, and returned to claim the throne your precious Ned died groveling for. Fair point, I now understand why you¡¯ve come to my chambers.¡± I took a slow sip, letting the silence thicken.


    ¡°....¡± a deep scowl darkened her face. She hated how I was rubbing it on her.


    ¡°Be clear with me, Lady Stark¡ªjust what do you want now that you¡¯ve realized how great a man I am?¡± I smirked.


    She didn¡¯t flinch. Good. But her pulse jumped in her throat. ¡°The Tyrells will become the second Lannisters. A wise king would see that. Margaery will have her claws in you if she hasn¡¯t already.¡±


    I grinned, all teeth. ¡°Claws? That rose has some fresh thorns, not claws. And thorns¡­¡± I snapped my fingers over the candle. A spark leapt from it, dancing briefly before it snuffed out. ¡°¡­burn. Roses, more so.¡±


    Catelyn sighed. Not at the parlor trick¡ªat the implication.


    ¡°You¡¯re not taking my words seriously. Olenna Tyrell lands within days,¡± she pressed. ¡°She¡¯ll have you wedded to that girl before the next moonrise. You think she¡¯ll let you rule? You¡¯ll sit on the throne, true, but like how Tywin managed the realm during Robert''s time, she''d do the same during yours.¡±


    I arched my brow. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be a shame?¡±


    "You can stop it.¡±


    "Do I want to?¡± I shrugged. "It sounds fun to have someone else run my nation while I enjoy kingly activities. What''s the issue?"


    I watched the way her fingers curled into a fist. The need in her eyes. The tension in her shoulders. I saw it all, and I reveled in it. This same woman was looking at me with hate, for my father had killed her fiance back in the day¡ªNed Stark¡¯s older brother.


    The wine burned pleasantly as I swirled it, watching the Stark woman¡¯s reflection warp in the golden goblet. Her posture screamed of Tully arrogance mixed with Stark pride; her spine was straight as a spear, chin lifted just enough to avoid looking down her nose.


    Amusing, given she stood in my chambers, surrounded by the wreckage of my earlier entertainment. The nobles of this world seldom realized how easily they could be killed, otherwise they¡¯d have been less full of themselves.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t take you for that kind of King,¡± she said. ¡°The type who lets others rule. Guess I was wrong?¡± The way her lips curled up just slightly was annoying as she questioned my kingsmanship. She did look incredible at that moment though¡ªattractive.


    [Image Here]


    Spoiler


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    For the first time, I took a proper look at Catelyn Stark. Who would believe she was a widow and mother of four?


    Her auburn hair was loosely braided over one shoulder, with stray strands framing her face and softening her sharp gaze. She stood with quiet strength, wearing a rich, dark gown with gold embroidery and a deep neckline that revealed her cleavage beneath the intricate patterns.


    A pendant, dark and sharp as her stare, hung at her throat against pale skin. Her hands were clasped firm over one another, and her expression was a blend of resolve and something else, lit by the warm glow of the fire behind her.


    I recall in the books, many characters were younger than their show counterparts. This woman must be a result of that.


    ¡°You must think I¡¯m an idiot, Lady Stark,¡± I said very slowly, letting the words drip like honey.


    Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation betraying her composure. ¡°I think you¡¯re a king who understands the game. I still do.¡±


    I laughed loud enough that it made her flinch. ¡°I like to think I do,¡± I set the goblet down with deliberate slowness, and a clink echoed in the ruined room. ¡°But the last time I offered you kindness, you spat on my family name. Called me Mad King¡¯s brat in that sweet motherly tone of yours. If not for Robb¡¯s wise decision, we¡¯d have been enemies.¡±


    ¡°...I apologize for that,¡± she said.


    I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, watching her throat tremble. ¡°Whatever the case, now you¡¯re standing in my chamber, reeking of desperation, speaking of marriage. Tell me¡ª¡± I dropped my voice to a whisper, ¡°¡ªwhat benefits do I get from marrying Sansa Stark?¡±


    Her hands flexed at her sides, pale fingers digging into grey wool. For a heartbeat, I thought she might bolt. Then her lips parted, the words forced out like a prisoner¡¯s confession. ¡°A union. A bond between our houses ¨C our independent nations ¨C that secures the North¡¯s future and cements your rule.¡±


    ¡°Mmm. A bond.¡± I drummed my fingers against the armrest. ¡°Is that what you call it? Not bartering your daughter like a broodmare at the Winterfell market?¡±


    Her cheeks flushed, but her voice remained steady. ¡°Do not insult my motherhood like that, Your Grace. My daughter wants you, and that is the reason I am here. If she didn¡¯t, I¡¯d have myself hanged before I sell her for political reasons.¡±


    ¡°Eh, you did that for your son, so why not your daughter?¡±


    ¡°You may mock my words, but you know what I say is true. " She closed her eyes and sighed, realizing I was just trying to irritate her. ¡°The North at your side is better than the Reach at your back. Plus, as I said, we¡¯re an independent nation while the Reach is a region under you. Marrying the Princess of House Stark is the wiser choice.¡±


    I rose abruptly, boots crunching over shards of the shattered vase. Catelyn didn¡¯t retreat, though her pulse fluttered visibly at her throat. ¡°You¡¯re missing the part where I gave the North its independence. It means I am not interested in that frozen place,¡± I said, circling her like a wolf sizing up wounded prey. ¡°You¡¯re free. You rule yourselves. And winter is coming, and your crops will freeze. You''re benefiting a lot more from having your daughter be my Queen. After all, then I''ll be obliged to look after the North. The same isn''t true for the Reach. Rather, the amount of crops the Reach has grown can feed me for decades to come. You tell me, which choice is better?¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°No buts. Answer me clearly, what need have I for your daughter, Lady Stark? A pretty little thing, sure¡ªbut roses have thorns and wolves¡­¡± I paused, close enough to smell the lavender soap clinging to her skin, ¡°...have teeth. That is needless trouble for me.¡± S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She turned sharply, meeting my gaze. ¡°Because we both know the game isn¡¯t over yet. Tywin Lannister still draws breath. Olenna will try to control you. And you need allies who are loyal¡ªnot sycophants waiting to carve your throne into souvenirs. Northmen are loyal.¡±


    I hummed, tilting my head. Moonlight caught the sweat beading at her temple. ¡°I''ll admit that. But, loyalty is such a fragile thing.¡± I reached out, brushing a strand of auburn hair from her shoulder. It was too intimate of a gesture, done too casually. She stiffened but held her ground. ¡°I don''t need loyalty when I have a dragon. Try again. What would the North give me, besides a blushing bride who jumps at her own shadow?¡±


    The wine¡¯s bitter aftertaste clung to my tongue as I smiled at her. Catelyn didn¡¯t retreat, but her nostrils flared¡ªlike a wolf scenting fire.


    ¡°Regardless, I see your point for Olenna,¡± I said when she stayed silent for too long. ¡°She''s a dangerous old woman. However, suppose if I¡¯m to consider your proposal,¡± I said, tilting my head as if pondering my words, ¡°I should test it first.¡±


    Her spine stiffened. ¡°What¡­?¡± her eyes glowed in danger. ¡°If you think I, Catelyn Stark, will let my daughter s-¡±


    Another step. Close enough to count the silver threads in her gown. Close enough to see the vein throbbing at her temple as she paused. ¡°Listen. A marriage is built on¡­ compatibility,¡± I said slowly. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    Her hand twitched toward the absent dagger at her hip. ¡°Your Grace¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not heartless enough to ask for a maiden like Sansa for testing purposes. That''s beneath me. So¡­ One night with you, Lady Stark.¡± I leaned in, my breath stirring the loose strands of her auburn hair. Her scent¡ªfrost and iron, no trace of fear¡ªmade my grin widen. ¡°That¡¯s all. To ensure Stark women don¡¯t shatter beneath Targaryen men.¡±


    Her slap came swift, but I caught her wrist mid-air, fingers digging into bone. ¡°Careful. That''s an execution-worthy crime.¡±


    ¡°You''re disgusting.¡±


    ¡°The choice is yours, Lady Stark,¡± I shrugged, backing off and staring into her eyes, really curious if she¡¯d give into the bait or not.


    **


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    **

 [80] For the North

    Chapter 80: For the North


    ¡ª


    Catelyn Stark¡¯s body was full of restraint as she held back from trying to slap him. But her eyes, those Tully-blue eyes, blazed with a fury that not even winter could quench.


    ¡°You insult me,¡± she hissed, her voice dripping with venom.


    I laughed, stepping back from her. ¡°Do I? Or do I offer the same pragmatism you tried to sell?¡± I swept a hand toward the bed, its sheets still tangled from the Sand girls¡¯ earlier theatrics. ¡°You¡¯d sell Sansa¡¯s future for a crown but clutch your pearls at this? How very¡­ honorable.¡±


    ¡°You truly are a disgrace, Viserys,¡± she dared call me by my name, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. ¡°Your father might¡¯ve been mad, but you... you¡¯re something worse. To make such a proposition to a woman whose husband¡¯s grave is barely cold? To mock my loss, my duty, and even suggest such filth? It¡¯s pure vile.¡±


    I chuckled, feeling the sound echo off the stone walls. ¡°Vile? You come to me while speaking of the realm''s politics, alliances, and marriage, yet balk when the game turns to flesh? You¡¯re not as naive as you pretend, Lady Stark. The North is cold, so you must know how warmth is shared.¡±


    She just stared at me, unblinking. One thing was for sure, Catelyn Stark was a strong woman. I loved her type.


    I stepped closer, not to intimidate but to watch the way her resolve strained against her propriety. ¡°On the same note, if I do marry Sansa, wouldn¡¯t that make you my dear mother by law? Imagine the family dinners.¡±


    Her expression twisted in disgust. ¡°And would you boast of bedding the mother along with the daughter? Is that how low Targaryens have fallen?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you wound me,¡± I mocked, pressing a hand over my heart. ¡°A Targaryen bedding his own kin? Hmm, has that ever happened before?¡±


    Her knuckles turned white, nails biting into her palms. ¡°It was different then. Your people were different then. You¡­ you are nothing like your ancestors. Not Aegon, not even Rhaegar¡ªthat rapist. You''re just a creature playing at being king, hiding behind a dragon¡¯s shadow.¡±


    ¡°If you really think my dragon is the only strength I have, you underestimate me.¡± I collapsed into my chair, sloshing wine carelessly over the rim. ¡°But yes, I''ve had enough of this bickering. If you''re so against it, so against giving Sansa the crown even though it''ll just cost you a night, then run back to Robb. Tell him the dragon doesn¡¯t bargain with wolves who bare their teeth then beg for scraps.¡±


    She stood rigid, fists trembling, her pride warring with desperation. I let the silence stretch, savoring it.


    Then she turned¡ªsharp, final¡ªtoward the door.


    Predictable. I sighed.


    Lunging forward, I yanked her arm hard enough to bruise. She stumbled, a gasp tearing from her throat as I crushed my mouth to hers.


    No tenderness¡ªbut rather attempting a conquest. She groaned, and her nails scraped my neck, drawing blood, but I didn''t budge. I shoved her onto the bed, her braid unraveling across the rumpled sheets.


    ¡°Pride,¡± I spat, leaning back and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Blood smeared the linen. ¡°You reek of it, Lady Stark. So desperate that you hesitate, and yet your pride leads you away. I had to take the initiative in the end. So drop the act, mother-in-law, and we can get this over with.¡±


    She didn¡¯t try to back away. Didn¡¯t speak. Just glared, chest heaving, lips swollen. That meant she¡¯d accepted defeat.


    The candle guttered, casting jagged shadows across her face¡ªa statue of ice and fury, as I smirked down at her.


    I had no real reason behind doing this, other than just¡­ wanting to see the naughty Catelyn beg under me.


    ****


    Catelyn¡¯s breath hitched as the Targaryen bastard loomed over her, his silver hair catching the moonlight like a blade¡¯s edge.


    A monster, she thought, even as her stupid traitorous eyes traced the lean muscle of his torso¡ªridges of hardened flesh and the coiled strength of a man who¡¯d carved his way to power. I can''t believe I''m having to do this.


    His smirk deepened, as though he could hear every venomous word rattling in her skull.


    ¡°I like that look, Lady Stark.¡± His thumb brushed the hollow of her throat, calloused but gentle. ¡°All that righteous fury¡­ and yet here you are.¡±


    She jerked her face away, staring at the cracked plaster of the ceiling. For Sansa. For Winterfell. For the North. The mantra felt brittle, crumbling beneath the heat of his palm sliding down to cup her breast through the wool of her dress.


    His fingers squeezed, not gently.


    ¡°Hm. Still firm for a woman your age,¡± he mused, voice low and mocking. ¡°Tell me, did Ned Stark appreciate these? Or was he too busy praying to his trees to notice?¡±


    Her knee jerked upward on instinct, but he caught it with a laugh, pinning her legs apart with his own. ¡°Bastard,¡± she spat.


    ¡°Oh, no. I¡¯m the only trueborn dragon in this realm, darling.¡± His free hand tugged at her laces, the fabric parting with a whisper. Cold air pricked her skin as he bared her to the waist. ¡°But you already knew that.¡±


    She refused to shiver. Refused to show him a reaction. Years of motherhood, of loss, of scraping dignity from the frozen earth¡­ none of it armored her against the crude hunger in his gaze.


    His palm skated up her ribs, thumb circling a nipple until it stiffened beneath his touch. A traitorous spark of heat coiled low in her belly. Her emotions aside, her body was clearly reacting to those skillful hands of his. Gods, this was unfair.


    How could he have draconic powers, a real dragon as his pet, look like a Demi-God on flesh, and be good on the bed? How was she supposed to win against someone like this?


    ¡°Stop¡ªstop dragging Ned into your filth,¡± yet, she wasn''t going to lose. So she snarled, back arching as his mouth replaced his fingers, teeth grazing the tender peak.


    He pulled back, lips glistening. ¡°Mmh? Why? He''s dead anyway.¡± His hand slid beneath her skirts, rough fingers finding the slit in her smallclothes. ¡°I think he''ll be rather happy to see you happy even after his death, given how honourable he was.¡±


    ¡°Your mouth spouts shit.¡±


    ¡°Tell me Lady Stark, did good, dull Ned Stark fuck you senseless, or did he just plant his heirs and roll¡ª¡±


    Her palm cracked against his cheek. The sound echoed like a whip.


    For a heartbeat, she saw true fury in his eyes¡ªlike purple flames that promised violence. It scared her. Her heart trembled in fear.


    Then he laughed, slow and dark, catching her wrist and forcing it down against the mattress. ¡°There she is. The wolf beneath the wool. Don''t judge me for it, but I like women with strong personalities. Ugh, I''m talking like a third-rate villain.¡±


    His fingers dipped lower, parting folds still slick with unwanted arousal. She bit her tongue until copper flooded her mouth, and yet a choked gasp escaped as he stroked a cruel, knowing circle.


    Stupid¡­ stupid body! She hated that her body wasn''t listening to her. No, it didn''t make sense how she could feel pleasure from someone she hated so much.


    ¡°Ah. Not so icy after all, Cat.¡± His breath scorched her ear. ¡°Shall I tell Sansa how her mother dripped for the Mad King¡¯s son? How your cunt begged¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± The word tore from her raw. ¡°Do not call me by my name, and just do what you came for and be done with it, you twisted¡ª¡±


    He withdrew his hand abruptly, lifting fingers glistening in the candlelight. ¡°I don''t think you understand. A king does not fuck like a starved peasant. Did your husband never do foreplay?¡± He stood, stripping his trousers with deliberate slowness. ¡°You¡¯re lucky if frue. Because I take my time.¡±


    Her throat went dry.


    Body wise, her Ned had been broad where Viserys was lean, thick with the muscle of a warrior who¡¯d earned his strength in battle rather than slaughter. Both men displayed strength. But this¡­ their manhood was vastly different.


    Viserys¡¯ manhood was a weapon¡ªa pale, rigid length that made her pulse thunder in panic. It was almost as thick as it was tall. Not that her husband had been small; in fact, he had a size to be proud of even among strong northmen, but this¡­ this was on another level.


    A Dragon Dick.


    Foolish, she cursed herself, even as heat pooled anew. Childbirth had stolen some of her body¡¯s ease, but not its memory.


    ¡°Forgive me if I''m having too much fun with my crude words, but,¡± he laughed, ¡°you¡¯re staring like your lord husband never filled you like you deserve, Cat.¡±


    ¡°My lord husband,¡± she hissed, ¡°was twice the man you¡¯ll ever¡ª¡±


    He was on her in a heartbeat, knees caging her hips, the swollen head of his cock pressing against her entrance.


    The threat of invasion burned hotter than shame.


    ¡°Careful, Cat.¡± He brushed a strand of hair from her face, almost tender. ¡°Lie to the realm. Lie to your gods. But don¡¯t lie to yourself. Ned Stark could not defeat a dying king on his own. But I did. Twice. On the same day.¡±


    She met his gaze then, blue fire clashing with violet. Does he think bragging makes him appear strong? She made sure he saw her hateread, that he realized how pathetic she thought he was.


    His smirk returned, edged with something dangerously close to respect. ¡°Good. And I can''t lie, aside from my taunting words, I really like you. So hold onto that glare. It¡¯ll make the next part sweeter.¡±


    Why''s he acting like he''s so sweet all of a sudden? Her head throbbed in anger. Then he leaned in, lips grazing hers.


    At the same time, his hips moved to insert that majestic sword into her womanhood.


    The intrusion came slowly¡ªagonizingly so. Catelyn bit her inner cheek until iron flooded her tongue, nails carving half-moons into her palms.


    Not so different from my wedding night, she thought wildly. Ned had been gentle. Careful. This¡­ Such a size made her feel like she was a girl losing her virginity.


    Viserys paused, cockhead seated fully inside her. "You feel tight as a maid," he murmured, thumb brushing the scar across her abdomen. "Can''t believe just a year of missing sex did this. Or is it two years? Since you were separated from Ned a while before his death.¡±


    ¡°Imbe- AHNG~!¡± Her retort died in a shattered gasp as he slammed home.


    Flames.


    Not the clean burn of violation, but liquid gold spilling through her veins. Her spine arched off the bed, a high trembling moan escaping before she could cage it. Viserys laughed, the vibration traveling through where their bodies joined.


    "Look at you," he said, withdrawing almost fully before thrusting again.


    Each movement struck her cervix¡ªa brutal piston between agony and something darker. "North''s frosty lady melting around a Targaryen cock. Ah, father would have loved to watch this sight. I suddenly feel like a proud son.¡±


    Tears blurred her vision. She refused to name them. "I...hate...y¡ª"


    The words shattered as he angled his hips, grinding against her sensitive spot that turned pain to lightning. Her thighs shook, betrayal written in the slickness soaking his thrusts.


    "Liar." He punctuated the word with a slap to her thigh, pale flesh blooming red. She moaned in pain. "Your cunt weeps prettier lies than your tongue. Maybe you just have a whore¡¯s cunt?¡±


    She wanted to deny it. She wanted to yell at his face and spit, but she could only cum like a bitch in heat as her legs trembled for him. For his big, burly cock.


    Tens of minutes of getting fucked, he went for a change and flipped her onto hands and knees. She didn''t fight. Couldn''t.


    ¡°HAAHNG?!¡± Somehow, the new position buried him deeper, making her body even crazier. Each snap of his hips slapped flesh against flesh heard enough that someone passing by might mistake it for thunderclap.


    She choked on a sob, forehead pressed to sweat-damp sheets. "P-please...st¡ª"


    "Please what, Lady Stark?" A hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back. The angle shifted and bliss and torment exploded in her body. "Beg properly."


    This¡ª


    This was crazy.


    Could mere sex really feel like this?!


    Her Ned her never been rough with her. He was always gentle, and she loved doing it with him because it made her feel safe and desired. But this¡­ this was pure lust, and it made her see the world in a different light. Her mind seemed to melt from pleasure.


    Her body answered before her pride. "S-slower! Gods, slower, I c-can''t¡ª"


    He clicked his tongue, free hand ignoring her trembling body to pinch a nipple. "But you can. I guess my dirty tongue is to blame for it, but you do remember the reason behind our intimacy, right?" A particularly vicious thrust accompanied his words. "Sansa''s prospects depend on how well you take your king, did you forget? We''re trying to test our compatibility. But if you tell me to slow down¡­ Haah. That means you''re not worthy for this dragon''s dick.¡±


    How can a person be so full of himself?!


    ¡­.


    How long was she fucked like that, with him behind her, holding her hair, and slamming into her nonstop?


    She''d long lost track of time. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The mirror came next. He raised her into the air with his strong, muscular arms, and carried her in front of the mirror.


    Her reflection horrified her¡ªher flushed cheeks, breasts swaying with each brutal thrust, mouth slack around silent pleas. Viserys chuckled against her ear, fingers digging into her hips. "See? Even your face that''s usually full of honor enjoys this."


    When her legs gave out, he followed her down to the cold stone floor. The final thrusts came jagged and sharp, her third climax tearing through her like wildfire.


    She watched in the mirror as her face went slack, a broken animal sound escaping her throat. Before this day, Catelyn didn''t know she could make such an obscene sound.


    Viserys withdrew with a wet pop, casually wrapping a towel around his waist. "Well, that was adequate. But now I need a shower. You clean up too and return. I really want to continue further, but it''d be troublesome if people hear us together.¡±


    The word stung worse than the ache between her thighs. Catelyn lay shaking, cheek pressed to stone as footsteps retreated.


    "W-wait!" She hated the rasp in her voice. "Sansa¡­ you''ll..."


    He paused at the door, silhouette haloed in torchlight. "Oh, I''ll fuck your daughter, Lady Stark." A smile sharp as Valyrian steel. "You¡¯ve already made your point with this¡­ demonstration. Wait for my decision tomorrow. I think you''ll like it. No promises, though.¡±


    The slam of the door echoed like a funeral bell, returning some clarity to her.


    Alone, Catelyn curled around the hollow in her belly. She suddenly missed the sensation of fullness she felt earlier. Realizing that made her face pale.


    The scent of sex and shame clung to her skin. For the North, she told the ghost of Ned''s smile. Always for the North.


    Somewhere deep beneath the lies, her body trembled for more.


    **


    **


    **


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 [81] The Game of Queens

    Chapter 81: The Game of Queens


    ¡ª


    The bathhouse steam clung to my skin like a second cloak, water rippling around my chest as I leaned back against the heated marble. A warm bath to start the morning after last night''s incidents was just what I needed.


    Cersei¡¯s hands trembled beneath the surface, while her golden hair plastered to flushed cheeks as she worked between my thighs. Her warm mouth was just a plus to my pleasure. Only a King could enjoy this, and I was relishing it.


    I watched the way her throat bobbed with each forced movement, the chain around her neck glinting in the firelight.


    "Careful of your teeth," I said, flicking water at her face. She flinched, the hate in her eyes smothered beneath layers of practiced submission. "Not that it hurts, but it''s annoying you''re trying to make it less pleasurable."


    "¡­I apologize." Her lips were tight, but she obeyed with a nod. The hot spring¡¯s currents lapped at my shoulders as I closed my eyes¡ª


    Boots slapped against wet stone.


    I didn¡¯t bother opening my eyes. "Hopefully not another servant with scented oils," I muttered under my breath, honestly finding this bothersome. As a modern man who knew the peace of solidarity, this was getting out of hand.


    "Y-your Grace, I- ah¡­." The guard¡¯s voice cracked when he reached nearby, and my eyes opened. This one seemed important.


    Cersei froze, her breath hitching against my thigh. I opened my eyes to see a green boy in Tyrell''s red standing, pausing mid-sentence and gaping at the sight of the former queen on her knees.


    I flicked a hand. Water splashed the boy¡¯s boots. "Eyes up here. What is it?"


    He jerked his gaze to the ceiling, face burning. "Apologies, Your Grace! B-but this is important. Lady Olenna Tyrell has been assassinated! And the killer left a dagger with Lannister lion marking its hilt. They¡¯re saying Lord Tywin¡ª"


    I stood, water sluicing off my body. Cersei scrambled back, chain clanking, her wet shift clinging to every curve. The guard¡¯s eyes darted toward her once again before snapping back at me.


    "And is that news truly big enough for you to come running unannounced? Be sure to resign by sunset," I said, stepping out of the pool. "This is kindness."


    "Ah¡­ I- thank you?" The boy stammered and then fled.


    Gods, who was hiring these soldiers? I have to put better people in charge.


    In the meantime, Cersei stared at the rippling water, fingers digging into her thighs. "Father¡­ he wouldn¡¯t. Not now. Not when¡ª"


    "What are you on about, slave? Your father¡¯s as subtle as a Dothraki wedding." I snatched a robe from the rack, silk sticking to damp skin. "Stop muttering like a madwoman and return to your chambers."


    She didn¡¯t move. Her head slowly rose up to meet my eyes. "The way you''re so unsurprised¡­ You know this reeks of¡ª"


    The chain yanked tight in my fist, choking her gasp. "What it reeks of," I said, leaning close enough to taste her fear, "is your family¡¯s stupidity. And only that. Don''t play smart, that is not your role. Run along, you toothless lioness for I¡¯ve got a realm to console."


    I released her, watching her hold back a glare as she looked down at the floor. I moved toward the exit as the door slammed behind me.


    ****


    Evening light sliced through the high windows of the throne room, catching motes of ash still lingering from Olenna''s pyre. It wasn¡¯t a proper pyre, her body wasn¡¯t burnt, since House Tyrell buried the bodies of their dead members, but Kinvara had to do a show even without the body.


    The Red Priestess was still out there, praying, guiding the soul of the dead.


    The Iron Throne loomed like a beast of jagged steel and forgotten wars as I settled into its cruel embrace. The Tyrell delegation stood clustered below¡ªMace¡¯s bulbous frame draped in mourning green, Loras rigid as a statue carved from grief. Reachlords fanned out behind them in a sea of golden roses, while the northerners lurked at the edges like wolves eyeing a wounded stag.


    I let the silence stretch, sharpening the weight of every gaze. ¡°House Tyrell has lost more than an elder today,¡± I began, fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the throne¡¯s obsidian blades. ¡°You¡¯ve lost its sharpest thorn. A woman who could wither an empire with a quip and raise a kingdom with a sigh. My court feels poorer for her absence.¡±


    Mace sniffled, a handkerchief dabbing at dry eyes. ¡°Your words honor her, Your Grace. Mother always said you had a dragon¡¯s fire but a gardener¡¯s eye for¡­ for growth.¡± His voice broke on the last word, and I could sense true pain there. Being a trash, greedy noble didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t sad at his mother¡¯s passing.


    A hush settled over the throne room as he tried to compose himself. The flicker of torches caught the damp trails on his cheeks. A few of the Reach lords lowered their heads, sympathy on their faces.


    I watched him calmly, fingers drumming the arm of the Iron Throne. ¡°Lady Olenna had a tongue sharper than Valyrian steel,¡± I said, voice quieter than before. ¡°She never failed to speak her mind, even if it sliced through armor. The realm will miss that honesty, even if we have no shortage of cunning tongues.¡±


    Mace swallowed thickly. ¡°She was the backbone of House Tyrell. The reason we soared so high.¡± His shoulders shook once, and he closed his eyes like he was trying to keep himself together. ¡°I¡ªI can¡¯t believe she¡¯s gone.¡±


    Somewhere off to the side, a woman in green-laced mourning clothes let out a choked sob, muffled by her sleeve. Only a second later did I realize it was Margeary. She was a mess, and it wasn¡¯t an act. The sadness in the room swallowed everyone, making the air feel thin.


    I tapped the seat¡¯s twisted steel again, letting the man gather himself. ¡°Grief weighs heavy, I know. She was a formidable force. The Lannisters pay for this. I would have flown to Casterly Rock right now and burned it to the ground if I wasn¡¯t unsure about Tywin Lannister¡¯s location.¡±


    With a shaky breath, Mace drew himself up and glanced at the silent crowd of Reachmen behind him. A few gave him tight nods. ¡°But we carry on,¡± he mumbled, wringing the handkerchief in his hands. ¡°For her sake, for House Tyrell¡¯s sake¡­¡±


    Loras stepped forward, the candlelight catching the tear tracks he hadn¡¯t bothered to hide. ¡°Grandmother believed in your vision. Wanted Margaery to¡­¡± He faltered, jaw clenching.


    ¡°To see the Reach flourish under just rule,¡± I finished for him, leaning forward. ¡°And it will. Lady Olenna¡¯s legacy isn¡¯t her wise schemes¡ªit¡¯s the strength she planted in your house. Her roots run too deep for one assassin¡¯s blade to poison.¡±


    Mace crumpled the handkerchief in his fist. ¡°We are grateful, Your Grace. Truly. But without her guidance¡­¡± He shook his head, jowls quivering. ¡°Who will tend to Margaery¡¯s future now? My sweet girl¡­ She¡¯s adrift.¡±


    The northerners exchanged glances. A few Reachlords coughed into their sleeves. There was the greedy man again¡ªsomehow bringing politics even while crying about his dead mother. I schooled my face into something resembling sympathy. ¡°Lady Margaery is a rose with her own thorns. She needs no tending¡ªonly room to bloom.¡±


    Mace seized the opening like a starving hound. ¡°Yet even roses need strong walls to shelter them from storms.¡± He dabbed his cheeks again, theatrical. ¡°Mother¡¯s last wish¡­ She wanted to hold Margaery¡¯s children. Her great-grandbabes.¡± A wet chuckle. ¡°Silly, sentimental thing.¡±


    The throne room held its breath as people exchanged glances, curious what answer I¡¯d give. ¡°Not so silly,¡± I said, voice softening. ¡°Olenna and I already spoke of such things. Promise is something a King must live by.¡±


    Mace¡¯s head jerked up, hope blazing through the fa?ade of grief. ¡°Your Grace?¡±


    I rose, steel scraping stone as I descended the throne steps. ¡°For everyone here who¡¯s not aware, I¡¯ve promised Lady Olenna that I¡¯d wed Margaery and give her children.¡±


    Gasps rippled through the crowd. Loras¡¯ eyes darted to his father. Mace clasped his hands to his chest. ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t mean to burden you with that topic, Your Grace, not today of all days¡ª¡±


    ¡°A king¡¯s word isn¡¯t a burden.¡± I halted before him, close enough to smell the rosewater clinging to his doublet. ¡°It¡¯s a vow.¡±


    The Tyrell lord¡¯s smile split his face, tremulous and triumphant. Behind him, Reachlords bowed like wheat in a gale while northerners muttered into their beards. My eyes locked onto Catelyn Stark, her Tully-blue glare sharp enough to pierce castle walls. She stood rigid beside Robb, her knuckles white around the fabric of her mourning gown.


    She must be furious right now, seeing me talk about marriage with Margaery when I promised her that I¡¯d take Sansa instead. It was fun to see her fume, but I had to speak.


    The court¡¯s murmurs died under my gaze. ¡°However,¡± I said, letting the word hang like a headsman¡¯s axe, ¡°there¡¯s some¡­ complicacy.¡± I flicked a finger. ¡°Lord Stark, and Lady Catelyn. Please join us.¡±


    Robb moved first, his boots echoing like war drums. Catelyn followed, spine straight as Valyrian steel. The crowd parted, Reach roses and northern wolves eyeing each other like rival packs. I didn¡¯t call for Sansa and Margaery; they remained among their people, looking at their parents with their expressions full of confusion.


    Mace Tyrell¡¯s jowls quivered as they halted beside him. ¡°Your Grace, what is¡ª¡±


    ¡°Apologies first,¡± I cut in, raising a hand. The lie came smooth as silk. ¡°Being a man is a complicated thing. You can love someone¡±¡ªmy gaze drifted to Sansa, and her cheeks went crimson at the words¡ª¡°while having promises to fulfill. Lady Margaery is a fine woman, but I also enjoy Sansa Stark¡¯s company greatly.¡±


    The hall erupted.


    ¡°¡ªtwo women?¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªmad as his father¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªAegon¡¯s precedent¡ª¡±


    Some muttered, and while I could have them executed right then, I ignored them. They¡¯d muttered low enough that I¡¯d not have heard it if not for my heightened senses. I watched Margaery¡¯s smile freeze, her fingers tightening around her brother Garlan¡¯s arm. Sansa pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes wide as a startled doe.


    I waited, savoring the chaos, until the noise crested. ¡°My ancestor Aegon had two wives. He conquered the seven kingdoms. I did the same. He did so with multiple dragons, and I did it with a single one. Why shouldn¡¯t I have multiple wives? Who, if not me? It¡¯s not as if that is not a common thing for Kings. Heck, even you lords do it all the time. Just this once, I¡¯ll pretend I didn¡¯t hear your whispers.¡±


    The crowd swallowed while Mace lurched forward, spittle flying. ¡°Even so¡­! You promised my mother!¡±


    The throne room chilled. I let the silence stretch, watching his courage shrivel. ¡°And I¡¯m keeping my promise. I never promised that Margeary will be my only wife,¡± I said softly. ¡°Do keep in mind, this is an offer, Lord Tyrell. You¡¯re free to refuse if you find this rightfully outrageous. As is House Stark.¡±


    A gamble, but I knew their greed.


    If those words had been spoken to a pair of girls from the 21st century, they''d have slapped me and stormed off in anger. But between two great noble houses? Should one family withdraw, the other would claim victory. And if both refused, I, the King, could simply seek a bride from another noble line. Such a prestigious and beneficial union would never be refused over anger.


    Thus... silence reigned. I observed, patient, until eventually Robb exhaled in resignation. His jaw was clenched. ¡°I understand your feelings toward my sister, and I appreciate that you like her. I truly do. But if you can¡¯t give up another for her, I don¡¯t think my sister would ever¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine with it!¡± Sansa¡¯s voice rang clear, trembling but defiant. All heads swiveled. She stood taller, cheeks aflame. ¡°I-I accept.¡±


    I held back a massive grin from splitting my face.


    Yes, of course. I¡¯d planted that seed in her a long time ago using Yara Greyjoy, just to prepare for this time. Of course she would accept. Don¡¯t get me wrong, Sansa was a lovely girl, I liked her, but politically, she was a pawn who I manipulated to play exactly this role.


    Margaery¡¯s mask slipped¡ªa flash of venom shooting toward Sansa. For a moment, I thought she might jump at the Stark girl. But then she laughed, light and false, as she looked at me. ¡°As do I. But a kingdom can¡¯t have two queens. I¡¯m just curious about this¡­ Who rules beside you?¡±


    Clever rose. I grinned. ¡°A fair question. Once again, this is very complicated. The first wife should rightfully be the Queen, but since I¡¯m marrying you both, that puts me in a odd place. So I¡¯d thought it over and decided to settle it with a test. One year from our wedding day, I¡¯ll announce the Queen. Whichever of you proves most competent over the year will wear the crown.¡±


    Mace spluttered. ¡°Competent? Your Grace, do you intend to put my Margaery¡ª¡± he started, but wisely his son Loras pinched his arm to stop him.


    ¡°A year,¡± Margaery said, stepping toward us. Her smile could¡¯ve cut glass. ¡°I¡¯d hate to win by legacy alone.¡±


    Sansa lifted her chin, also stepping closer. ¡°Agreed.¡±


    Robb looked confused, Catelyn looked angry, and the northerners growled approval; the Reachlords muttered into their sleeves. I spread my hands. ¡°The weddings will be in a fortnight. After Lady Olenna¡¯s pyre has cooled.¡±


    Mace opened his mouth¡ªto protest or preen, I didn¡¯t care. I waved my hand, dissolved the court into hissed debates, alliances shifting like sand.


    I leaned back, planning a true conquest where the realm would truly be on my palm, as I felt the Iron Throne¡¯s blades poking into my flesh. This was a great start. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    **


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 [82] Blood of the Dragon

    Chapter 82: Blood of the Dragon


    ¡ª


    Through the flap of her tent, Daenerys watched her dragons soar across the evening sky of Yunkai. Drogon and Rhaegal''s wings cast long shadows over the camp, their cries echoing across the barren landscape outside the city¡¯s gates. Eight thousand Unsullied stood in perfect formation beyond, their spears glinting in the dying light.


    Yet her thoughts drifted far from this situation, across the Narrow Sea.


    "Tell me again," she said, turning from the sight to face Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah. Wine sloshed in her cup as she gripped it tighter. "About my brother."


    Ser Barristan shifted uncomfortably. "The reports are consistent, Your Grace. Viserys Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. He arrived with a golden dragon during the Battle of Blackwater Bay, turning the tide against Stannis Baratheon''s forces."


    "A golden dragon." The words felt bitter on her tongue. "While I struggled in the Red Waste, while I lost my husband and child, he somehow hatched the egg he stole?"


    "...There''s more, Khaleesi," Jorah said quietly. "He''s taken two brides ¨C Margaery Tyrell and Sansa Stark. The marriage will be held in a few days. However, there''s one surprising thing. He didn''t announce any Queen. He said he''ll choose one amid the two based on their competency, a year from now on. The Reach and the North support his claim."


    Daenerys drained her cup, her eyes blazing with emotion. And what of my claim¡­? What of the throne that I promised my dead son?


    "Your brother has changed," Barristan offered carefully. "The reports speak of a man unlike the one who sold you to the Dothraki. I''m unsure how, but he''s not the same coward you remember. Otherwise, it¡¯d have been impossible to convince not only the Reach but the North too, about giving up their princesses for a marriage like this. He executes justice personally, and protects the smallfolk-"


    "He sold me!" The words burst from her like dragonfire. "He cared nothing for justice then. Nothing for protecting anyone but himself! He even threatened to kill my baby so that he could flee to safety!"


    "¡­He didn¡¯t, in the end," Barristan Selmy said. ¡°From a young age, I noticed that Viserys was a coward unlike his older brother. But the stories I¡¯ve been hearing are singing about a stronger man. Perhaps sending him letters will be wise, Your Grace?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t force her to do anything, Ser,¡± Jorah said from his side, making the man frown.


    Dany ignored their banter, looking away. Her hands shook as she poured more wine. "I thought... I thought I was the last dragon. I don''t burn from flames, but he did. I thought that my children were the only dragons in the world and that I¡¯d reach greatness through them. But now..."


    "You still have a choice, Khaleesi," Jorah said. "You have two dragons of your own. An army of Unsullied. He only has one. You could sail for Westeros-"


    "And what? Fight my brother, who has the support of the realm? Start another Dance of Dragons?" She laughed bitterly. "¡­As much as I want to see him dead, I know that''s just a dream with our little army. For now, we can focus on what''s before us." She set down her cup and straightened. "¡­Tell me of Yunkai. How have the Wise Masters responded to our presence?"


    The two exchanged glances, and she realized they were surprised to see her maintain composure. However, what they didn¡¯t see was how troubling it was for her to push thoughts of Viserys aside. Regardless, she focused on her surroundings. Yunkai.


    Astapor still haunted her dreams. The crack of her whip, the screech of her dragons, and the way the Good Masters had writhed as dragonflames consumed them. She''d freed the Unsullied that day, watching eight thousand spears rise in salute when she gave them their choice. Their commander, Grey Worm, had proven himself worthy of the trust she placed in him.


    The yellow walls of Yunkai waited for her now, ancient and imposing. Unlike Astapor''s red brick, these walls seemed to absorb the evening light, making the city appear as if it were carved from pure gold. The Wise Masters had refused her terms¡ªthe liberation of their slaves¡ªjust as she''d expected them to.


    Now, she was curious what they were up to.


    Ser Barristan cleared his throat. "They''ve hired sellswords, Your Grace. Ten thousand strong."


    "The Golden Company," Jorah finished. "Led by Harry Strickland, and they''re usually active in the Nine Free Cities. The Wise Masters must have paid a fortune to bring them here. They have war elephants and a reputation for never breaking a contract."


    Daenerys raised an eyebrow. "The most expensive sellsword company in the world? The Wise Masters must be desperate."


    "That they certainly must be, after hearing what your brother''s dragon did in the Blackwater," Barristan cautioned. "Interestingly, the Golden Company was founded by Aegor Rivers - a Targaryen bastard. They''ve spent generations trying to seat a Blackfyre on the Iron Throne. Although by now, all Blackfyre were dead."


    "It''d have been commendable if they stayed in the Free Cities, but they had to come and work for the slavers. A disgrace to my blood, bastard or otherwise," Daenerys stood, walking to the tent''s entrance again.


    Her dragons wheeled overhead, their shadows merging with the approaching dusk. "It¡¯s odd, though. How fitting that they''ve forgotten their roots while fighting for the throne for hundreds of years, while my brother has never forgotten his and regained the throne in so little time." One thing she''d give to Viserys¡­ he was like a cockroach, doing anything necessary to survive. And when the time was right, he took what was his.


    She just wondered what part she had to play here. Only recently did she start dreaming about the Iron Throne, but had they all been nothing but a child''s fantasy?


    She watched the sun sink behind Yunkai''s ancient walls, her heart heavy with questions she couldn''t answer. Was this her destiny ¨C to free slaves while her brother ruled the Seven Kingdoms?


    "¡­Send word to their commander," she said finally. "I would meet with this Harry Strickland before we begin."


    ****


    Daenerys sat under the silk canopy of her open tent, watching her two dragons tear into roasted sheep. They were still chained, but Drogon and Rhaegal ripped at the meat with a fierce sort of elegance, afternoon sunlight glinting off their scales. Pride always filled her chest when she saw them, even if worry gnawed at her thoughts.


    Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah stood at her side, their hands close to their sword hilts. In front of them sat a table piled with fruits, meats, and sweet treats, ready for their guests.


    ¡°How long must we wait, Ser?¡± she asked, and footsteps answered her before they could.


    When the leaders of the Golden Company arrived, Daenerys studied them closely. Harry Strickland led the group¡ªa round-faced man with a friendly look that didn¡¯t quite match his reputation. Behind him walked two odd figures whose names she wasn¡¯t aware of. An older, clean-shaven man with blue-dyed hair that didn¡¯t fully hide the red underneath, and a younger man with the same artificial coloring.


    ¡°...Welcome,¡± Daenerys said, standing up to greet them. ¡°I¡¯m glad you Sers accepted my invitation.¡±


    ¡°The honor¡¯s ours,¡± Strickland answered with an easy smile, bowing a little. ¡°Not many get summoned by the Mother of Dragons.¡± She was surprised at how polite he was, especially since he was hired to kill her.


    They took their seats across from her, while the older blue-haired man¡¯s gaze lingered on her dragons in a way that made her curious. His younger companion tried to hide it better, but she caught the same interest.


    ¡°Please, have something to eat,¡± she offered, gesturing at the food in front of them. ¡°We have a lot to discuss.¡±


    Servants started pouring wine, and Drogon screeched so loudly that Strickland flinched. The older blue-haired man, though, only smiled.


    ¡°They¡¯re magnificent,¡± he said, his voice carrying an accent Daenerys couldn¡¯t pin down. Like he was faking it. ¡°I never thought I''d see real dragons.¡±


    ¡°They''re still growing,¡± Daenerys responded. She raised her hand, and Drogon instantly paid attention. ¡°Drogon, dracarys.¡±


    The black dragon¡¯s flames roared out, charring a hanging haunch of meat in seconds. Her guests murmured in appreciation at the display.


    ¡°Now, let¡¯s get to business,¡± she went on. ¡°The Wise Masters pay you well, no doubt. But I can offer more than gold. I¡¯m giving you the chance to join something bigger ¨C freeing Slaver¡¯s Bay under the Mother of Dragon¡¯s command.¡±


    The three of them exchanged glances, and rather than answering, they started eating. It made Dany frown, and she exchanged glances with her advisors. Ser Barristan stepped forward, his gaze locked on the older blue-haired man. ¡°Excuse me, Ser, but have we crossed paths before? You look familiar.¡±


    The man¡¯s smile stayed easy. ¡°Perhaps we have,¡± he replied, sipping his wine.


    Daenerys leaned in. ¡°You still haven¡¯t answered me. What¡¯s your decision?¡±


    All three exchanged looks again as if they were talking silently among themselves. Then, out of nowhere, the younger blue-haired man gave a soft laugh.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Daenerys asked, taking a closer look at him now.


    His violet eyes¡ªhow hadn¡¯t she noticed them right away?¡ªmet hers warmly. ¡°I think we can negotiate a lot more than this Slaver City, Aunt.¡±


    ¡°¡­Aunt?¡± The word felt strange on her lips.


    He stood up, lifting a hand. Ser Barristan moved in to protect her, but it wasn¡¯t needed. Instead of a weapon, the man just took off his blue wig, revealing his real hair. The silver-white hair of a¡­ Targaryen.


    ¡°Forgive me, I can¡¯t keep the act going too long. It hurts to do it in front of family.¡± He bowed, his expression genuine. ¡°I¡¯m Aegon Targaryen, Rhaegar¡¯s son¡ªyour nephew. The Golden Company only took this job so I could meet you, the future Queen of Westeros. I know this is all confusing, but¡­ I have proof.¡±


    Daenerys felt like the ground vanished under her feet. The dragons, the tent, and even her loyal knights seemed to fade away as she stared at this man who shouldn¡¯t exist.


    Another dragon. Another claim to the throne.


    Another piece of her broken family standing right there with her silver hair and her own violet eyes. It felt like a heavy weight pressed on her chest, leaving her speechless as the reality of his words washed over her like waves crashing on the shore.


    Aegon Targaryen had come to her with an alliance proposal, promising her the throne if she stood beside him against her imbecile of a brother.


    [Image Here]


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    ** sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    **


    **

 [83] A Dragon’s Wedding

    Chapter 83: A Dragon''s Wedding


    ¡ª


    Morning light spilled into my chambers, drenching the stone walls in gold. Beyond the balcony, King¡¯s Landing was already stirring with life. Bells chimed across distant sept towers, mingling with the low hum of thousands of voices. An early breeze carried hints of roasted chestnuts and hot pies, and somewhere far below, a street minstrel¡¯s lute plucked out a cheerful tune for passing smallfolk.


    I stood on the balcony without a shirt, staring down at King¡¯s Landing buzzing below like some kicked anthill.


    Black and red Targaryen banners snapped in the wind beside the golden rose of House Tyrell and the grey direwolf of House Stark. I couldn¡¯t help but smile. From begging in Pentos to this¡ªarranging a double wedding that would tie two great houses straight to my throne.


    It felt¡­ good.


    My memories as Viserys were very vivid now, so this victory felt much sweeter.


    Down in the courtyard, workers rushed to hang fresh Targaryen banners over old Lannister ones, their red and gold clashing in vibrant layers. Guards in gleaming black armor paced every walkway. Even the pigeons seemed bolder, fluttering along the skies in search of stray crumbs from the wedding preparations.


    A breeze brought the smell of fresh bread and excitement. Crowds lined the streets, their voices rising like waves against the Red Keep¡¯s walls. They¡¯d never seen anything like it¡ªprobably not since Aegon the Conqueror.


    ¡°Your Grace.¡± Kinvara¡¯s voice pulled me from my thoughts. She had swept inside my bedroom wearing an ornate red-and-gold robe, her ruby necklace pulsing with that inner glow. ¡°I trust you slept well. You¡¯ll need all your strength for today''s festivities, after all. Speaking of which, everything is ready for the ceremony.¡±


    ¡°Strength enough to carry two brides, you mean?¡± I asked with a smile, moving away from watching the city.


    ¡°I wonder if even dragons have stamina for such an arrangement. It has been a while since I comforted you, so memories are hazy on that subject. If the ceremony didn¡¯t demand both of our presence, I might volunteer to test your... spiritual fortitude.¡±


    I walked toward her and pulled her by the waist. Her soft waist pushed into my grip through the fabric of her clothes. ¡°Don¡¯t tempt me, Priestess. I might just delay the marriage for a few hours just to take you to your heaven.¡±


    She giggled, but her eyes never left mine. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that would be unwise, Your Grace. The people say you¡¯re insulting the Faith by letting me officiate¡ªme, a red priestess. It would be outrageous to delay it on top of that.¡±


    Her voice was warm and sultry as if she wanted me to delay it.


    ¡°The Faith bowed to Aegon the Conqueror,¡± I said, releasing her and grabbing a black silk shirt from my bed. ¡°They must do the same for me. Like you have. If they don¡¯t, I might change my mind about letting The Seven coexist with your Faith of Red. I¡¯ll eliminate them all, and just keep you, who knows?¡±


    I would not.


    That¡¯d be unwise.


    Kinvara was too smart of a woman to allow her full religious control of this continent. I enjoyed her company, but I realized her threat all the same.


    ¡°Who knows, indeed¡­ Regardless, some devout lords aren¡¯t comfortable,¡± she said, following my movements. ¡°Lord Tarly¡¯s especially grumbly.¡±


    I laughed. ¡°They¡¯ll deal. They¡¯ll remember real power once Viserion¡¯s flying overhead.¡±


    The door opened, and Ros stepped in like a shadow. ¡°Your Grace,¡± she said with a small bow, her eyes sharp. ¡°The nobles are talking. They think two wives and a Red Priestess are too much all at once. Could stir trouble after today.¡±


    I took a look at her¡ªogling her beautiful figure¡ªwhile wondering about her words. ¡°Today? Sure, increase the guards. Can¡¯t take any risk. As for whatever comes after the marriage, it doesn¡¯t worry me,¡± I said, as she moved closer to button my doublet. Gold dragons stitched along the front glinted in the morning sun. ¡°Once they¡¯re my wives, any protest is treason, plain and simple.¡±


    I could already imagine it¡ªMargaery and Sansa trying to outfox each other for the queen¡¯s crown.


    I was curious how Sansa would deal with that snake, Margaery. She wasn¡¯t as jaded as she would have been if I had let all her torture unfold as canon. Let them. That¡¯d keep them busy with each other instead of questioning me.


    ¡°By the way, about Lord Baelish¡­¡± Ros started, fidgeting with my collar. ¡°He saw the poison coming and fled the city.¡±


    ¡°Pity,¡± I said. I had expected to eliminate him quietly since I didn¡¯t have any more use for him, but he was a smart bastard. ¡°I think I know where he¡¯ll be, don¡¯t worry I¡¯ll pay him a visit later on.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Ros said, raising her head back to look into my eyes. Her eyes held¡­ odd emotions that even I failed to understand. A hopeless romantic who¡¯d thought a sweet, lovely marriage was possible between her and me¡ªonly for her to prepare my dress for my marriage with two noble ladies. I wonder how she felt.


    ¡°Your carriage is ready, Your Grace,¡± Kinvara said, staring down the window, and then moving toward the door to hold it open.


    ¡°Good,¡± I said and pulled Ros closer to kiss her on the forehead. She blinked, her cheeks going red, as a smile bloomed on her face. She cleared her throat, trying to hide it, but I shook my head.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be like that,¡± I told her. ¡°I¡¯ll see you later.¡±


    She stared at me, and let her smile return as she nodded.


    I headed through the corridors, guards snapping to attention. In the courtyard, my personal carriage stood waiting¡ªblack with gold trim, pulled by four white horses. Meanwhile, my brides must be traveling separately.


    The roar of the crowd got louder once I settled inside. Through the window, I saw smallfolk pressed against the guards, all craning to catch sight of their king.


    My carriage rolled past rows of cheering townsfolk and vendors hawking ribbons dyed red for Targaryen luck. Some children ran alongside, laughing until the guards shooed them off.


    Every face I saw¡ªbe it an old cloth merchant or a young baker¡¯s apprentice¡ªwas lit with curiosity and maybe a glimmer of hope that this day would be etched into the city¡¯s history.


    The wheel had turned, and I traveled toward the start line to stabilize this realm for the millennia to come. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ****


    Carriage wheels clattered over the cobblestones as we neared the Dragonpit. The special marriage ceremony won¡¯t be held in the sept, but rather in the courtyard of Viserion¡¯s new home.


    That ancient building had housed dragons for centuries and then stood empty¡ªuntil my arrival. It was the place where Targaryen dragons rested. As I¡¯d promised Viserion, I¡¯d let her fly free after taking the realm, and I lived by it. She flew the skies whenever she wanted, and rested in the pit when she was tired or hungry.


    Through the window, I spotted Viserion¡¯s golden shape sprawled atop the dome, scales gleaming in the sun.


    Banners snapped in the wind. Targaryen¡¯s three-headed dragon, Tyrell¡¯s golden rose, and Stark¡¯s grey direwolf. I liked how they looked together¡ªthree big houses joined under my rule. The rest of the High Lords must be shaking in their boots.


    Margaery¡¯s carriage arrived first, a fancy green-and-gold showpiece. She stepped out looking like a spring blossom, her gown probably worth more than feeding half the city for a month.


    ¡°So beautiful...¡±


    ¡°Look at her dress!¡±


    ¡°The Reach¡¯s finest...¡±


    The crowd¡¯s chatter carried to my ears. Margaery glided to her place, every move timed to grab attention. She was good at this.


    One of the Tyrell cousins hugged her arm and said, ¡°You outshine even the sun, cousin.¡±


    Margaery let out a soft laugh. ¡°Let¡¯s hope our dragon king notices too. Now careful, I¡¯d prefer only he wrinkles my dress.¡±


    Sansa¡¯s simpler carriage followed. She wore grey with touches of black and red¡ªsmart, showing Stark loyalty and a nod to Targaryen. She was quieter but still impressive.


    ¡°A prime Northern beauty.¡±


    ¡°Ice and fire mixed...¡±


    ¡°The wolf princess!¡±


    I watched them from inside my carriage as I pulled up last. The moment I stepped out, the noise died instantly. Everyone turned to me¡ªlords and peasants alike. That was power, no question, and it felt good to command it with my mere presence.


    Both brides waited at the stairs. Margaery was all poise, Sansa calmer but not any less proud. Two totally different women, each lovely in her own way. The coming year would be entertaining as they vied for the queen¡¯s crown.


    Sansa curtsied first. ¡°Your Grace,¡± she said softly. ¡°I hope the ceremony pleases you... I... want to make you proud today.¡±


    ¡°Formal talk from my little wolf,¡± I teased, noticing her blush at the possessive nickname. ¡°I thought you¡¯d come to visit me before the fortnight, turns out you didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ was shy. I apologize,¡± she said, lowering her face.


    Margaery¡¯s curtsy was perfectly measured. ¡°Your Grace,¡± she said, voice bright as summer. ¡°What a grand day for a dragon to spread its wings. Though I wonder if even our¡ªuh, your stunning Viserion can outshine all this?¡±


    I snorted. ¡°Watch that flattery, my rose. Dragons aren¡¯t big on sweet words, she might come to eat you.¡±


    She flashed a daring smile. ¡°I¡¯m sure she won¡¯t dare as long as I please you¡­¡± she said lightly, making a nearby septa gasp.


    Robb Stark stood with his northern men, a small smile on his face. Lord Umber and Lord Karstark at his sides looked happy as well. They weren¡¯t thrilled when they accepted this marriage deal, but since this was a special day, nobody looked stiff.


    ¡°Your Grace!¡± boomed Mace Tyrell, waddling over with forced cheer, still in mourning but trying to be festive. ¡°What a blessed day! So wonderful! You look great.¡±


    He stopped as Kinvara stepped up to the altar, draped in scarlet robes. She carried the symbol of R¡¯hllor instead of a Seven-pointed star, and the crowd rippled with whispers.


    ¡°A foreign priestess officiating?¡±


    ¡°What about the Old Gods or the Seven?¡±


    ¡°This is so strange¡­ the rumors were true.¡±


    I could taste their tension, and I quite liked it. I took position, ready for a ceremony that would chain these two women to me and tie their Houses to my rule.


    A few minutes later, a brazier¡¯s flames danced in front of me, sending flickering light across the crowd. Kinvara stood behind it, arms lifted, her voice ringing clear.


    ¡°Lord of Light, watch us! Three flames become one, as the dragon¡¯s blood binds these souls!¡± The fire leaped higher with each phrase. Overhead, Viserion soared, blotting out the sun for a moment as she roared, a perfect dramatic cue.


    I felt Margaery and Sansa tense on either side. Margaery looked thrilled by the spectacle, Sansa more rigid but set on getting through it with her head high. That contrast amused me. I didn¡¯t focus on them for long. I observed their Houses, instead.


    Let them see¡ªnortherners, Reachmen, and everyone else¡ªhow a Targaryen rules under ¡°God¡¯s¡± command, claiming two brides as he pleases. This wasn¡¯t just a wedding. It was a statement of who truly held the realm¡¯s reins for such a thing hadn¡¯t happened in a long, long time.


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± Kinvara said, drawing me back. ¡°Before R¡¯hllor¡¯s sacred flame, do you pledge to take these two women under your dragon¡¯s blood?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± I said, letting my voice roll over the gathering. ¡°By fire and blood, I claim them both beneath Targaryen rule.¡±


    She turned to Margaery. ¡°Do you, Margaery of House Tyrell, bind yourself to this union, to the flames of Viserys Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm?¡±


    Margaery¡¯s smile shone like a summer day. ¡°I do, by¡­ R¡¯hllor¡¯s light. May the rose and dragon bloom together, forever.¡±


    Then she looked at Sansa. ¡°Do you, Sansa of House Stark, bind yourself to this union, to the flames of Viserys Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm?¡±


    Sansa¡¯s answer was softer. ¡°I do, under the eyes of gods old and new... and R¡¯hllor¡¯s fire. May we be together, forever.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Kinvara smiled, and the crowd cheered like a wave of tsunami.


    That proceeded with me giving each of them a ring¡ªblack diamonds and tiny rubies set in the Targaryen sigil. As I slid them onto their fingers, I caught Margaery¡¯s sidelong glance at Sansa¡ªassessing her competition¡ªwhile Sansa stared at the ring in a mix of awe and worry.


    We followed with the cloaking next. Margaery¡¯s green silk draping over Sansa¡¯s shoulders, and Stark grey settling over Margaery¡¯s. I stood in black Targaryen garb, uniting three Houses in one scene.


    ¡°I pray this union brings peace. We don¡¯t have to be enemies.¡± Sansa said softly, her voice low enough that only I and Margeary heard it.


    Margaery revealed a polite but firm smile. ¡°Peace, yes¡­ though I hope you¡¯re prepared for the year ahead, Lady Stark. Competition can be so... invigorating.¡±


    ¡°Now,¡± Kinvara said, clapping her hands, ¡°show your bravery to R¡¯hllor¡¯s flame.¡±


    Margaery held out her hand above the brazier first, biting back a flinch. Sansa hesitated but then thrust her hand out, earning soft approval from the northern crowd. I placed my hand, and at this distance, I barely felt anything. My Fire Resistance skill helped.


    ¡°By R¡¯hllor¡¯s power,¡± Kinvara announced, ¡°I declare you wed in the eyes of the Lord of Light and the entire realm!¡±


    Reactions crashed like a storm¡ªcheers, hesitant applause, a handful of stony faces. Robb Stark clapped with a small smile, while his wife clapped louder. His mother was glaring at me, though...


    Up above, Viserion dived lower, her scales flashing in the sun as she blew a burst of flame that lit the dais in fiery orange. Heat slammed over us. I felt the brides¡¯ hands tighten on my arms.


    ¡°The dragon approves,¡± I told them, getting some good-natured laughter from the crowd.


    I looked back and forth between Margaery, who looked as if she¡¯d won, and Sansa, who seemed relieved it was finished. Then I remembered Aegon, who had two wives and united seven kingdoms.


    I intended to achieve more than just that.


    Starting with my sister.


    It¡¯d been a long year.


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: Who do you guys like more, Sansa or Margaery?

 [84] An Extra Special Night

    Chapter 84: An Extra Special Night


    ¡ª


    The wedding feast had gone on forever. Faces I barely knew congratulated me, musicians swapped between Northern ballads and Reach tunes, and enough food was laid out to feed half of King¡¯s Landing.


    I¡¯d forced myself through all of it¡ªthe toasts, the silly dances, the drunken jokes from lords about the bedding ceremony I¡¯d forbidden.


    Finally, I could slip away to my chambers with my new wives.


    I pushed open the heavy oak door of my royal bedchamber. Soft light from dozens of oil lamps warmed the place, dancing across polished furniture and glinting off little golden dragon fixtures. The thick velvet curtains were pulled against the night, creating a cozy little world away from everything else.


    My eyes didn¡¯t rest on the decorations for long, for there were more beautiful things in the room than that. My two wives, one sat on the bed and the other one the table, set up like opposing chess pieces.


    Margaery stood up the moment I entered. She was wearing a green silk gown that hugged her curves and was decorated with golden roses that caught the lamplight. Her chestnut hair fell in fancy curls, and her smile was alluring.


    She looked every inch the queen she aimed to be.


    Sansa, on the other side, also stood from her position in the bed. She was wearing a more subdued blue-grey dress with small red stitching¡ªjust enough Stark and Targaryen to be noticeable. Her auburn hair was styled in a simpler Northern way, though she looked no less lovely. Her posture was stiff, her smile quieter but earnest.


    Their eyes locked in a brief exchange of defiance. Then, they slowly turned to me with courteous smiles. ¡°Your Grace,¡± they said almost together, then shot each other a tiny glare at the coincidence.


    I chuckled, closing the door behind me. ¡°My ladies. Hopefully, I didn¡¯t make you wait too long. Did you enjoy the day?¡±


    ¡°Of course. The ceremony was beautiful,¡± Sansa offered, fiddling with her gown¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Though I¡­ I¡¯ve never seen a wedding done with fire before.¡±


    ¡°The Lord of Light brings passion more than your cold northern gods,¡± Margaery said. ¡°Right, Your Grace?¡±


    ¡°All gods do their part,¡± I said lightly, stepping toward the center of the room. ¡°But I¡¯ll admit, R¡¯hllor¡¯s fire does liven things up. The world ought to change, so we have to accept the changing religions as well. Only a dynasty that can adapt to change can survive.¡±


    ¡°Wise words. Some say a dragon is a symbol of change, too. Since one has appeared after so long, we should prepare. Speaking of dragons, I thought half the smallfolk would panic when Viserion flew in,¡± Margaery went on with a soft laugh. ¡°Poor Loras nearly pulled his sword. It¡¯s difficult to get used to such a presence.¡±


    ¡°The Northerners kept calmer,¡± Sansa countered, some pride slipping into her voice. ¡°We¡¯re used to harsher things.¡±


    I smiled at how clearly they were competing. ¡°Still, both your Houses stood strong. A good start to our alliance.¡±


    My gaze drifted to the table between them. Two different drinks were set out, waiting. Before anyone spoke, both stepped forward.


    ¡°I¡¯ve brought the finest Arbor gold, Your Grace,¡± Margaery said fast, picking up a fancy crystal goblet filled with pale golden wine. A whiff of summer fruits and flowers reached my nose. ¡°It¡¯s been kept in my family¡¯s cellar since before Robert¡¯s Rebellion.¡±


    ¡°And I have northern mead,¡± Sansa said, offering a carved wooden cup etched with wolf designs. ¡°Sweetened with wildflower honey and spiced with cinnamon from our glass gardens. My father¡­ always said it warms you better than any southern wine.¡±


    In unison, they both said, ¡°Try mine first, Your Grace.¡±


    They quickly looked at each other, then forced polite smiles back at me. I laughed, truly amused by their eagerness. ¡°Two fresh drinks from my new brides. Both look appealing.¡± I glanced back and forth, enjoying the tension. ¡°But which to drink first? Tough call.¡±


    Margaery¡¯s smile stayed polite but went a bit tight around the edges. ¡°The Arbor gold will cleanse your palate. It¡¯s perfect for a start.¡±


    ¡°But the mead¡¯s heartier,¡± Sansa jumped in. ¡°Best to begin with something substantial.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± I slipped a gold dragon coin from my pocket, letting it catch the lamplight. ¡°A fair king leaves it to fate, yes? Heads for Margaery¡¯s wine, tails for Sansa¡¯s mead.¡±


    They both hushed, watching me flip the coin high. I caught it with a flourish, then smacked it on the back of my hand.


    ¡°Heads,¡± I declared, showing the dragon sigil.


    Margaery¡¯s face lit up, a genuine little triumph in her eyes as she handed me the goblet. Sansa¡¯s lips pressed together briefly before she managed a composed nod and set down her wooden cup softly.


    I sipped the Arbor gold slow, savoring its layers. I decided to describe the taste once I was done, given how intensely Marg was staring. ¡°Delicate but not weak. Hints of summer peaches and honey. The Reach, in liquid form.¡±


    Margaery glowed at the praise. ¡°I picked it myself from our best barrels. My grandmother always said a good wine reveals the character of its land.¡±


    ¡°Your grandmother was a wise woman, indeed.¡± I put the goblet down and picked up Sansa¡¯s cup. ¡°Now the North¡¯s gift.¡±


    The mead was strong and warming, surprisingly complex. ¡°Bold and straightforward, with a hidden depth,¡± I said. ¡°Like the North itself. Great for a cold night.¡±


    Sansa¡¯s eyes brightened, though she stayed controlled. ¡°Thank you, Your Grace. It¡¯s made from the same recipe my family¡¯s used for generations.¡±


    ¡°Both have their charms,¡± I said. ¡°Wine for big celebrations, mead for long winter evenings. Lucky me, having wives who bring two distinct flavors to my table.¡±


    Margaery flicked a small barb. ¡°Our dear Sansa¡¯s taste runs a bit¡­ rustic, wouldn¡¯t you say, Your Grace? It has a certain charm in its simplicity.¡±


    ¡°The ceremony was quite rustic as well,¡± Sansa replied, voice holding a bit of newfound grit. ¡°All that excessive chanting from Reach lords. In the North, we like a quieter dignity over flashy shows.¡±


    I lifted a brow, impressed she fired back.


    Sansa added, ¡°I¡¯d rather be rustic than overly sweet, Lady Margaery. Too much sugar can turn your stomach, after all.¡±


    Margaery¡¯s eyes hardened briefly. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing the king enjoys variety. Perhaps he¡¯ll find cold northern nights as pleasant as warm southern days.¡± sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I watched this exchange with amusement. Exactly what I wanted¡ªtwo determined women trying to beat each other. Their focus wouldn¡¯t stray far from outdoing one another, leaving me to do as I pleased. This would allow me far more control over them and the realm itself, rather than if I¡¯d married only one.


    ¡°Ladies,¡± I cut in, stepping between them. My tone dropped a few degrees. Although I liked it, I had to make something clear. ¡°I welcome your rivalry. In fact, I encourage it. The competition for the crown will keep you on your toes.¡±


    I took another sip from each cup, then set them down carefully. ¡°But listen¡­ If either of you truly harms the other, I¡¯ll punish both. In case of one¡¯s death, however, the other goes to the grave alongside her. I am not jesting. I won¡¯t let my wives turn the realm into a battleground of petty feuds.¡±


    Silence dropped like a stone, the weight of my warning plain. The two girls had stiffened, especially Margaery.


    ¡°The realm needs stability,¡± I continued, ¡°not more wars fought with poisons or daggers in the dark. You can compete for my favor all you want, but don¡¯t forget you both belong to me now.¡±


    Sansa lowered her gaze first. ¡°I understand, Your Grace.¡±


    ¡°As do I,¡± Margaery said, though a calculating glint still shone in her eyes.


    I picked up Margaery¡¯s goblet again, swirling the wine. The tension was thick in the air¡ªand it was pleasantly enjoyable. Two clever, beautiful women, each eager to outshine the other, with me holding all the cards.


    ¡°Good,¡± I said, lifting the goblet in a little toast. ¡°Let¡¯s enjoy tonight, then. It¡¯s not every day a dragon marries two brides.¡±


    ¡­.


    As we continued chatting about different topics, nightfall settled in, shifting the energy in my chambers. However, it was the same outside. I could hear footsteps and gossip outside the door, so the steamy part of the night would have to wait a bit longer until the guests left the corridors.


    Lamps and braziers threw dancing shadows across the walls, lighting up old Targaryen artworks¡ªdragons soaring, ancient conquests, and the glory of my ancestors long before me. It reminded me of a rich history that I¡¯d never seen.


    I was in bed now, sitting between the two ladies and chatting. Moonlight mixed with the city lights of King¡¯s Landing came from the window, illuminating the room further.


    Now and then, Sansa¡¯s fingers traced shapes on my thighs, like she was gathering her thoughts¡ªor her nerve¡ªfor the night to come. In the meantime, Margeary¡¯s hand openly caressed my chest.


    The silk of Margaery¡¯s gown made soft whispers with each move. She couldn¡¯t stop glancing at Sansa¡¯s way, calculating her every breath. For the last few minutes, I was the one doing most of the talking. The silence between the girls felt so tight it could snap any second.


    ¡°A moment,¡± I said as I rose and walked over to the table. I picked up a bowl of blood oranges and slowly chose one, letting the sharp scent fill the room as I peeled it. I pretended not to notice their unspoken standoff, but I took in every bit of tension.


    Finally, Margaery spoke, unable to resist another jab. ¡°The night¡¯s deepening. Soon, the sweet times will begin¡­ I wonder, Lady Stark,¡± she said, her tone sweet on the surface but laced with venom, ¡°if you even know how to keep a king warm in bed. The North can be so chilly.¡±


    I held back a laugh behind a piece of orange, watching Sansa¡¯s shoulders go stiff. She turned from watching my back to staring at Margaery, her face calm despite the blush creeping up her neck.


    ¡°We¡­ we Northerners have our own ways,¡± Sansa answered, her voice steadier than I¡¯d expected. ¡°I¡¯m sure His Grace will enjoy a little variety more than¡­ the same old thing.¡±


    Oh, she¡¯s getting bolder. The little wolf was showing some bite.


    Margaery¡¯s smile tightened a fraction, but she recovered quick. ¡°How quaint. Though we in the Reach treat pleasure like a fine art¡ªstudied as carefully as a maester studies his books.¡±


    ¡°And yet all that studying didn¡¯t keep your first husband interested,¡± Sansa retorted, then her cheeks flushed, like she wished she could take it back.


    Margaery¡¯s eyes flashed. ¡°Careful, dove. Some birds keep singing right up until someone wrings their neck.¡±


    I dropped the orange peel into a silver dish, and both went silent, turning to me. I stared at them, crossing my arms and letting them feel the weight of my presence.


    ¡°I thought I made my words clear, Lady Margaery. You can bicker all you like,¡± I said in a soft but edged voice. ¡°I¡¯m even entertained by your rivalry. But don¡¯t cross the lines. Threats fall under that line, as well.¡±


    They watched me, catching the threat loud and clear.


    Margaery¡¯s face had gone pale, and she was about to apologize, but I spoke over her. ¡°We need stability,¡± I went on. ¡°I don¡¯t know how seriously you¡¯re taking this, but I¡¯m seeing hundreds of years ahead. If you¡¯re considering benefits for your current family who¡¯d be dead in a few decades, let me warn you to be careful.¡±


    Sansa was the first to dip her gaze. ¡°Understood, Your Grace.¡±


    ¡°I- I apologize,¡± Margaery said, quick to lower her head.


    A knock on the door broke the tension. One of the Kingsguard spoke through the heavy wood. ¡°Your Grace, the corridors are cleared. All the wedding guests have turned in or left.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± I replied. ¡°No disturbances ¡®til morning. No matter what.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Grace.¡±


    Footsteps faded away, leaving the three of us in silence. I walked to the door and slid the iron bolt across. The deep sound of it locking shut seemed to seal us off from the outside world.


    Turning back, I saw Margaery standing tall, confidence returning to her posture, while Sansa stared at us with a flush in her cheeks. I looked at them both, a slow grin spreading across my face.


    ¡°So¡­¡± I said, stepping closer, ¡°shall we find out whose drink I really prefer?¡±


    Both of them paused as I smirked, letting my gaze rake over them both. I leaned back against the carved bedpost. "Strip."


    Margaery''s fingers went to her laces without hesitation, that Reach-girl grin sharpening as emerald silk pooled at her feet. Sansa fumbled with her northern clasps, cheeks burning crimson as her dress slid down generous hips.


    I drank in the contrast. It was a sight to behold, worthy of a king.


    Margaery''s compact curves, all honeyed skin and rose-tipped breasts bigger than my palms, versus Sansa''s long-limbed fullness, her body soft and pale as winter moonlight with nipples like dusky pink berries. Her breasts were much larger, too.


    I wasn''t the only one who noticed Sansa''s fullness. Marg''s brows twitched upward when Sansa''s shift fully fell¡ªsurprise flickering before she masked it with a purr.


    "W-well then," she cleared her throat and drawled, trailing a finger down her own stomach, "I hope you won''t toss a coin this time¡­ Who would you like first, Your Grace?¡±


    I locked gazes with her, and then reached out and hooked Sansa''s wrist, yanking her onto the mattress. She yelped, collapsing against me with a breathy laugh that grew into a moan when I gripped her chin.


    "The night should start with virgin blood first," I murmured, thumb brushing her lower lip. "Don¡¯t worry, little wolf¡ªI¡¯ll make it sweet."


    Sansa''s beautiful tully-blue eyes trembled. Her pulse rabbited beneath my palm as I claimed her mouth, all trembling innocence and hesitant licks.


    Margaery huffed at the loss but settled cross-legged beside us, eyes gleaming like a cat watching sparrows.


    Slow as a summer storm, I peeled Sansa''s smallclothes away, mapping every flinch and gasp. She arched when I thumbed her nipples¡ªsharp little noises escaping as I swirled my tongue around each peak.


    "G-Gods," she let out a whimper, thighs clamping around my wrist when I trailed kisses down her quivering stomach. She tasted better than the drink she brought me.


    "Which ones?" I chuckled against her inner thigh, biting just hard enough to make her jolt. "You''ve abandoned your previous ones already."


    Her protest dissolved into a keening wail as I finally tasted her, fingers stretching her open while Margaery leaned closer, biting her own lip. ¡°I''m so jealous right now, Your Grace.¡±


    ¡°The fruit of patience is sweet,¡± I told her while my focus remained totally on Sansa.


    Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, back bowing off the bed as my mouth slipped between her thighs.


    Minutes passed as my lips trailed kisses, and my tongue worked her toward the edge only to pull back¡ªthree times¡ªuntil tears streaked her temples. The room was growing heavier.


    "P-please," she sobbed, hips bucking. ¡°S-stop with your tongue, Your Grace~ I- I''m wet enough¡­¡±


    ¡°I can feel that,¡± I said, withdrawing my face and wiping my lips with a smile. I heard her heart thump loudly as she enjoyed the view.


    I loomed over her, shedding my doublet with deliberate slowness. Her eyes widened at the muscles that rippled with the smallest movements.


    "Look into my eyes, Sansa," I ordered, while my hips positioned between hers. ¡°It won''t hurt.¡± She listened, nodding slowly.


    Then, I thrust in with a single, slow stroke. Her cry filled the room, and virgin blood dirtied the sheets.


    [You have claimed a virgin.]


    [Skill: ¡®Dragondick - E¡¯ is responding strongly!]


    She screamed, nails scoring my shoulders as her blood slicked my thighs. Margaery''s breath hitched¡ªwhether from arousal or envy, I couldn''t tell.


    "Move with me," I said, catching Sansa''s hips as she whimpered. ¡°The pain will go away, trust me.¡± I promised her while focusing on my Skill.


    I started to move. Slow at first, then deeper, harder, until her cries turned guttural. Sansa Stark''s beautiful, curvy body wet with sweat. Her beautiful body trembled for me as she took my length to the base. She was a tall girl, so she didn''t disappoint me.


    ¡°Oh, fuck, Viserys. I loveee this,¡± she let out a harrowing gasp, eyes rolled back to the ceiling, as I hit her depths.


    Sansa couldn''t hold on for long. Thanks to my Skill, her pain had long turned into pleasure, so her climax ripped through her like wildfire. Her back arched and mouth gasped silent pleas to gods long forgotten.


    With a grunt, I pulled out at the very last second with a tight pop, smearing my seed across her swollen lips and lovely tummy. I didn''t want to create any heir just yet.


    I breathed heavy for a moment, staring down at the panting Sansa. ¡°You did well for your first time,¡± I said, leaning down to kiss her. Sansa accepted me like a hungry beast, lips slamming into one another, her teeth drawing blood. I laughed at her roughness.


    "Alright. Now clean this," I ordered as I brought my drenched, still hard cock near her mouth. "As your equal, Lady Margaery deserves a clean cock too."


    ¡°I understand¡­¡± Trembling, Sansa Stark obeyed¡ªtongue darting shyly until I fisted her hair and made her take me deep. Her eyes teared, but she held in, as I poured some remaining drops inside her mouth.


    When I pulled out of her mouth, smirking at her well-used face, Margaery was on me before I could blink. She nipped at my jaw as she ground against my thigh. "My turn, love. You won''t keep me waiting, will you?" she breathed, all heat and honeyed venom.


    ¡°No. Let''s get to it,¡± I flipped her onto her stomach, ignoring her yelp as I slammed into her from behind. Margaery came for me immediately, moaning like a whore rather than a Queen. I loved that sound.


    The bedchamber echoed with Margaery''s theatrical moans and Sansa''s drowsy whimpers until dawn streaked the sky.


    By morning, both of my wives lay tangled in sweat-damp silks¡ªSansa¡¯s tear-streaked face pressed to my chest, Margaery¡¯s small satisfied smirk pressed to my shoulder.


    Neither were queen, but both were mine.


    Admittedly, I loved this night more than the others.


    **


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 [85] To Protect the Realm

    Chapter 85: To Protect the Realm


    ¡ª


    Morning light filtered through the curtains, painting golden streaks across our tangled limbs. I''d been awake for some time, savoring the weight of two gorgeous women pressed against me. It truly was a sight that I could never have enjoyed back on Earth.


    Sansa''s auburn hair spilled across my chest, Margaery''s arm draped possessively over my stomach. Both had their own charms, and I savored it all with my arms around their bodies.


    Margaery stirred first, those doe eyes fluttering open with practiced precision. It was as if she¡¯d learned how to wake up gracefully. She stretched like a cat, her breasts pressing against my side. "Mmm... good morning, dearest husband."


    ¡°Morning,¡± I said. Our movements disturbed Sansa, who slowly blinked awake. She let out a small gasp before remembering where she was. The blush that crept up her neck was delightful.


    "Sleep well, little wolf?" I asked, stroking her cheek.


    "I¡ª yes," she mumbled, pulling the sheet higher despite the intimacies we''d shared hours before.


    Margaery chuckled. "How can you still be shy, Lady Stark? After all that howling last night?"


    "I didn''t howl," Sansa protested, though her lips curled upward. ¡°I remember you doing all the howling, despite being a pristine flower in public. How scandalous.¡±


    "How is it scandalous to become a direwolf in heat for my husband?" Margaery teased, reaching across me to tap Sansa''s nose. ¡°You should be learning from me. Not that your performance was any less fun. I suppose you northerners are always... passionate about your first hunt."


    Rather than shrinking away, Sansa surprised me by arching an eyebrow. "At least mine was genuine. Your performance sounded practiced¡ªlike you''d memorized when to moan."


    I laughed, feeling Margaery grumble beside me. "You think I have to fake it when my King¡¯s cock is that huge? You stupid¡ª" Margaery began before dissolving into giggles herself. "... Never mind. Perhaps I should give you lessons. A queen needs refinement."


    "We''re not queens yet," Sansa reminded her, trailing fingers along my collarbone. "Though I think I impressed our king well enough."


    "Confident now, are we?" Margaery purred, pressing a kiss to my jaw. "I think we need another... competition."


    I caught both their hands as they slid beneath the sheets. "Later, my eager wives. The realm won''t rule itself, and I''ve dragons to feed." S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Margaery pouted. "Surely Viserion can wait."


    "Dragons wait for no man," I said, sitting up despite their protests. "Not even kings. I want you to know that while I have control over her in person, she might rampage and destroy things in my absence. We can¡¯t risk that."


    Sansa leaned back against the pillows, her hair a fiery halo as sunlight reflected off it. "Will you come back soon?"


    "Missing me already?"


    "She''s just worried I''ll win your favor while you''re gone," Margaery said, stretching languidly.


    "You''re talking like you¡¯re going with him," Sansa replied with newfound boldness. ¡°If you are, I am too.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps another time, dear wives. You¡¯ll get much time to play with Viserion,¡± I said, and for a minute more, I watched these powerful women from ancient houses, now giggling like tavern maids in my bed.


    It was a pleasant morning indeed, but beyond these walls, the game continued. Faegon breathed, and Daenerys gathered strength across the sea. The realm needed a firm hand.


    ****


    The realm faced real dangers. Ones that wouldn''t wait while I played the happy husband.


    The White Walkers loomed beyond the Wall. I knew the danger of that from the TV show¡ªan army of the dead that would sweep south and destroy everything in its path. But this world was different now. With me on the throne instead of Joffrey, perhaps that future could be avoided entirely. I had to prepare for that.


    I needed to send people north, strengthen the Night''s Watch, perhaps even commission new weapons made of dragonglass from Dragonstone Island. Castle Black needed men¡ªnot criminals but trained soldiers who understood the gravity of their mission.


    Then there was Dorne. The Sand Snakes'' betrayal still stung, but it pointed to something more concerning. Prince Doran was playing his own game. How involved was he with that fake Aegon bastard? Where did my Dany fall into all this? They¡¯d definitely try to use her.


    Tywin Lannister remained a problem as well. He''d retreated somewhere after Joffrey''s execution, nursing his wounds and his pride. Perhaps in Casterly Rock, or perhaps somewhere else entirely. I didn¡¯t know, so I couldn¡¯t just fly over there. The old lion wouldn''t stay quiet for long. He''d be plotting, gathering forces, waiting for the right moment to strike back at me for killing his grandson. I''d need to deal with him soon.


    Despite all this, the most pressing concern was the echo from across the Narrow Sea¡ªmy sister Daenerys.


    "Your Grace," Pycelle began as he sat at the Small Council table, his voice wavering, "we''ve received troubling reports from across the Narrow Sea."


    I leaned back in my seat. "Go on."


    The Small Council chamber in the Tower of the Hand felt cavernous with so many seats empty. Mace Tyrell occupied the Master of Coin''s chair, looking as puffed up as ever in rich green velvet. Ros sat where Varys once had, dressed more modestly than in her brothel days but still with a hint of her former profession in the cut of her gown. Grand Maester Pycelle trembled in his seat, chains rattling with each movement.


    The Hand''s chair remained conspicuously vacant. I hadn''t decided who to trust with that position yet.


    "Your sister, Daenerys Targaryen, has conquered Yunkai. Her forces now march on Meereen." Pycelle''s eyes darted nervously. "She commands an army of Unsullied and¡ªforgive me, Your Grace¡ªtwo dragons."


    Mace Tyrell shifted uncomfortably. "Two dragons? Gods be good."


    The little girl I''d once sold to Khal Drogo had hatched two dragons and was conquering cities in Essos. Just like in canon. But things were worse here than canon. I remembered how we''d left things¡ªwith me holding a sword to her belly, threatening her unborn child as I stole one of her dragon eggs. She wouldn''t have forgotten.


    Would she sail to Westeros seeking vengeance? Would she fall for Varys¡¯ trap? That spider should be traveling to her by now, along with Tyrion Lannister. Or would she be wise and just remain in Meereen and rule that place?


    Either way, I couldn''t ignore her growing power.


    "The Mother of Dragons, they call her," Ros added. "My little birds say she''s freed slaves by the thousands. They worship her like a goddess."


    Pycelle cleared his throat. "If I may, Your Grace... there is some confusion about your relationship with your sister. The citadel has inquiries about¡ª"


    "My sister and I parted on poor terms," I cut him off. "I lied to some people before, but we¡¯re not on good terms. She wants to kill me for the things I did. Be sure everyone knows about this so that they don¡¯t blindly trust her. She likely believes I''m still the frightened fool who sold her to the Dothraki. She doesn''t know who I''ve become."


    "Will she sail for Westeros, Your Grace?" Mace asked, wiping sweat from his brow.


    ¡°She might. I¡¯m unsure. But to be fair¡­¡±


    I tapped my fingers against the table, considering. I don¡¯t have to remain unsure. I could fly to Meereen on Viserion and confront Daenerys directly. Why waste time when I had the means to cross the Narrow Sea in days rather than weeks?


    Although there was the risk of Viserion fighting against two dragons, I was confident she¡¯d live at least even if she couldn¡¯t win against both.


    I could see her dragons with my own eyes, gauge her strength, and perhaps even forge an alliance. No matter what, she was my sister. Our past¡­ when we grew up together¡­ memories were vivid. That was why I didn¡¯t kill her back then.


    But there were matters demanding my attention here first.


    "Before I make any decisions about my sister, there are pressing matters to address," I said. "Many, many matters. Regarding the Wall in the north, among other stuff. I¡¯ll talk to Robb about this. We also need to select new Kingsguard and appoint a Lord Commander. The White Cloaks were Lannister men¡ªwe need knights loyal to the dragon now. We¡¯ve also got to make sure the Citywatch is in good hands. Summon the current Commander of the City Watch¡ªRos, fit that into my schedule.¡±


    Ros nodded. "Understood. I also have names to suggest regarding the Kingsguard, Your Grace."


    "Good. I also need to summon Yara Greyjoy to discuss the Iron Fleet. Send her a letter." I turned toward Mace Tyrell, who was still sweating despite the cool morning air. "On another more important topic, Lord Mace, about the Iron Bank''s loan..."


    The meeting unfolded. The table overflowed with urgent matters: the White Walkers, Daenerys¡¯s rise in Essos, the turmoil in Dorne, and the ever-watchful Tywin. Amidst these political intricacies stood two brides, each vying for the crown.


    A new game was about to commence, one that would test every vow, every alliance, and the very blood in my veins. I¡¯d make my moves carefully, for the next step could tip the scales of the entire realm.


    It was harder to hold the throne than claim it.


    I had no intention of losing the throne I¡¯d paid so dearly to claim.


    **


    **


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 [86] So Many Kingly Duties

    Chapter 86: So Many Kingly Duties


    ¡ª


    The following events proved relentlessly busy.


    I began by sending Mace Tyrell to Braavos with a small delegation to renegotiate terms with the Iron Bank. The Crown''s debt had ballooned under Robert Baratheon''s reign, and the Lannisters had only made it worse with their war expenses. The Iron Bank was notorious for collecting its dues¡ªthey''d fund your enemies if you failed to pay.


    This was the thing with politics. Raw strength couldn¡¯t always win over things. I mean, I could definitely go there and burn down the entirety of Braavos, but then there was the chance I¡¯d get assassinated by a hundred faceless men. Even Viserion was in danger.


    I¡¯d say the Faceless Men were one of the most dangerous powers that could go against me, on par with the immortal Empire of Yi Ti.


    So, Mace would go to the Iron Bank and ask for more time. By then, I¡¯d beat down the Lannisters, take their wealth, and repay the debt using Lannister money. Cersei would play a fine role, then. One of the reasons I kept her alive.


    I chose Mace for this task partly because the Tyrells had deep pockets, and his presence would signal to the bankers that the throne now had wealthy allies. But more importantly, it kept him away from court while I solidified my reign. While Mace wasn¡¯t anywhere near his mother, he was still an annoying person.


    He was meek, but he was strong-headed. He awkwardly kept asking for stuff until the end.


    With that done, I focused on other important tasks.


    Later, I met with Bronn, the current Commander of the City Watch. The former sellsword had survived the Battle of Blackwater, and I chose not to kill him like the other soldiers. He still carried himself with that dangerous swagger, though he''d dressed up a bit for the occasion. His black armor gleamed, and he''d even bothered to trim his beard.


    I''d half expected to replace him immediately¡ªhe was not loyal to Tyrion, but they were still friends, after all. But our meeting changed my mind. He loved money, and as long as he received money and luxury, he¡¯d remain loyal. Men like these were more trustworthy than those who pretended to be noble.


    Unlike the nobles who spoke in flowery riddles, Bronn was refreshingly direct about the state of the city. The City Watch was undermanned and corrupt, but he had plans to fix both issues if given the resources.


    "Your Grace, half these gold cloaks can''t tell their arse from their elbow," he''d told me bluntly. "But give me a month and your gold, and I''ll have them shaped up or shipped out."


    I liked that he didn''t hide behind false promises. He knew exactly what I needed¡ªa city that ran smoothly and stayed loyal. After surviving as a sellsword for so long, Bronn understood that loyalty was bought, not given freely. He also knew to respect me, even though he was a sellsword, and that he¡¯d initially met me as a fellow sellsword. But he knew when to adapt. Perfect for managing a city filled with spies and cutthroats.


    The rest of the week blurred together.


    I met with Robb and told him to send a letter to Jon Snow in the Night Watch asking about what was going on there. I told him about strengthening defenses along the Wall, but he didn¡¯t see any reason to. So I decided to only continue on that topic when Jon would send back a reply. I¡¯d break down the news to Robb about the White Walkers.


    Otherwise, it¡¯d be suspicious why I knew all this, and also, my words wouldn¡¯t be that trustworthy.


    That meeting followed with me wondering about dragonglass from Dragonstone. I was unsure if I should start their shipment already, but I decided against it. I should pay Dragonstone a visit after returning from Meereen.


    I spent the next few days reviewing candidates for the Kingsguard. I found a few good ones to fill the slots, but none for the Lord Commander role. It annoyed me that living legend Ser Barristan Selmy had gone to my sister¡­


    Now, where do I find a proper Lord Commander?


    Having no answers, I moved to the last important task. I made sure to prepare rooms for Yara Greyjoy''s upcoming visit, ensuring they were befitting of an ally¡ªbut not too lavish. The Ironborn preferred practicality over luxury.


    Although I decided to halt that meeting in the end, till I¡¯d return to King¡¯s Landing. I¡¯d delayed enough time. All these kingly duties took a lot of work.


    A few weeks after my marriage, it was a late afternoon. I was pacing the corridors of the Red Keep with Ros walking beside me, her voice low as she delivered reports from her growing network of informants.


    "The Lannister forces have retreated to Casterly Rock, Your Grace. Lord Tywin hasn''t been seen in weeks¡ªthey¡¯re using the excuse that he¡¯s ill. But I think he¡¯s just hiding. " She paused, checking a small parchment. "And Littlefinger has been spotted in the Vale. He''s apparently courting Lysa Arryn quite... aggressively."


    ¡°They¡¯re fucking. Send a letter to Lysa. Tell her Littlefinger is a criminal who fled from his role as the Master of Coin and that she¡¯s obliged to return him to the crown. She won¡¯t listen, and that¡¯ll give me an excuse to fly to her castle.¡± I said, making her nod.


    I barely listened to the rest of her report as we passed through a corridor lined with tall windows. Sunlight streamed in, catching the dust motes that danced in the air. I stopped abruptly, drawn to the view below.


    King''s Landing lay before me, transformed from the city I had approached months ago. Targaryen banners now decorated every prominent building. Workers rushed about, repairing the damage from the battle. Near the harbor, ships were unloading supplies¡ªgrain from the Reach and timber from the North.


    "This place is changing," I murmured, more to myself than to Ros.


    She stepped beside me, following my gaze across the city. "For the better, I''d say. The smallfolk aren''t starving anymore. Even the smell has improved. Though I doubt the city will ever smell like a garden."


    ¡°The smell,¡± I chuckled. "A true miracle, that one. I need that smell completely replaced with flowers and perfumes soon. Even if you doubt it¡¯ll smell like a garden, we need to make that happen.¡±


    ¡°Really, Your Grace?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sweetheart.¡± I looked at her. The once-whore girl was an elegant lady now, wearing a noble gown. I pulled her closer, and she gave in, without resisting. ¡°I have grand plans for this realm.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad,¡± she said, smiling warmly. She didn¡¯t try to act too professional with me anymore. I liked that development. ¡°I¡¯ll make your plans come to fruition.¡±


    ¡°I know you will. I dream of a city with better living conditions than this, Ros. I¡¯ll make sure that the commoners live like kings in the future¡­ Although by then I¡¯ll live like god. That includes you," I said. ¡°You¡¯ll be my brush used to paint this city anew.¡±


    "My existence will be fulfilled by that," Ros replied, her voice full of love. "Honestly, it doesn¡¯t have to go that far. The people don¡¯t want to live like kings. They just need to feel safe. And fed. You¡¯re already succeeding in those regards thanks to the Tyrells."


    "Really? That¡¯s good,¡± I said, a little curious. "Do you think they¡¯re happy? Margaery goes out to meet the commoners and hangs out with them, and she says they¡¯re happy. She¡¯s making them accept a Targaryen on the throne again. I think the commoners like her more than Sansa. At this rate, I might, too. Poor Sansa has yet to figure out how to play this game. Why don¡¯t you show her the way? You have known her for a long time. She was telling me how you treated her as your younger sister for a long time.¡±


    Ros considered this, tilting her head. "That I did. But I¡­ I¡¯m unsure if she¡¯ll be fine with me trying to help her. She might think I¡¯m trying to manipulate her¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you say so. You¡¯re right that the commoners like the Tyrell girl more. They accept whoever feeds them and doesn''t beat them. So I¡¯ll help Sansa, I guess, to help balance things,¡± she said. ¡°Expect a different Sansa by the time you return.¡±


    She was still in my arms, and I gently pushed her against the wall. I leaned forward, capturing her lips, and she gave in, moaning for me. Ros really knew how to make a man¡¯s body hotter with minimal effort. As her hands roamed my body, feeling my muscles, I wanted to fuck her senseless right here.


    ¡°But there''s something else." She hesitated once I pulled back from the kiss. "The people whisper about you. The Dragon King who appeared from nowhere with golden wings and breathed life back into the city. Children play games pretending to be dragons now. It¡¯d be too much to give Margaery credit for that, though. It¡¯s all you. You saved them from Stannis¡¯ assault, after all.¡±


    That pleased me more than I expected. "That was the plan. To make them feel grateful. I¡¯m glad it¡¯s working. That¡¯s why I killed so many soldiers during the riot when people were throwing stones at Joffrey, while saving civilians. Myths and stories can be powerful tools."


    "More powerful than armies sometimes," she agreed as she leaned forward and kissed my nape. "Though speaking of armies, the Dornish¡ª"


    A guard rushed toward us, his armor clanking as he skidded to a stop and bowed deeply. I didn¡¯t separate from Ros, hand inside her gown, feeling her chest. The guard was an older man, so he knew to keep his head low as he reported. "Your Grace... Brienne of Tarth has reached King¡¯s Landing. She brings news."


    Ros¡¯ head snapped toward him. "Brienne? The lady knight from the Stormlands? Your Grace, I heard that she was tasked with bringing Jamie Lannister to King¡¯s Landing a couple of months ago¡­ by Lady Catelyn. She finally returned."


    Since they were taking a detour, traveling half the continent on foot, it took months.


    "Yes, Your Grace. She..." The guard shifted uncomfortably.


    Brienne of Tarth. The warrior woman who had once sworn herself to Renly Baratheon, then to Catelyn Stark. In the story I knew, echoed by this reality, she''d been tasked with returning Jaime Lannister to King''s Landing in exchange for the Stark girls.


    But that was a different timeline, a different story. Sansa was already here, married to me. And Arya... well, she was still missing. Had Brienne succeeded this time in her task or failed like canon?


    "Did she bring someone with her?" I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "A prisoner, perhaps?"


    ****


    "No, Your Grace. Lannister spies... found us when we were very close to King''s Landing." The massive woman kept her head down, one knee pressed to the stone floor before my Iron Throne. "I tried my best to fight them, but Jaime Lannister''s restraints broke during the struggle, and he received a sword from an ally. I¡­ couldn''t beat the greatest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms, even with his months of imprisonment." S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She apologized for her incompetence.


    I leaned forward slightly, the uncomfortable edges of the throne moving away from my back. The throne room was relatively empty today. The cavernous space, with its towering columns and high vaulted ceiling, felt almost hollow.


    Morning light streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Targaryen banners hung from the walls, a sea of black and red that had replaced the Baratheon gold.


    Only a handful of courtiers lingered at the edges of the room, along with a few guards. I noticed Robb Stark standing to one side, his face grim as he watched the proceedings. Lady Catelyn stood beside him, her eyes fixed on Brienne with a worried expression. Naturally, she was worried about the fate of the Knight who¡¯d been escorting Jamie Lannister to King¡¯s Landing¡ªwhich was at the hands of Lannisters during the oath.


    If I ordered execution now, Catelyn could only blame herself and nobody else.


    However, I didn¡¯t bring up any of that. She¡¯d only done as she was forced to oath, so it wasn¡¯t her fault. "I understand he defeated you. So why did he let you return alive?" I asked, studying Brienne''s face carefully.


    She was not a woman made for deception¡ªher eyes were too honest, her face too open. "...I don''t know, Your Grace." Her voice held genuine confusion.


    Okay, there are two things that could have happened here. First, that she was lying and had actually let Jaime escape because she''d fallen in love with him during their journey. Like the original. Or that she knew the oath meant she had to safely send Jamie to his family, and not King¡¯s Landing, so she let him go without a fight.


    Or perhaps the second option was true: the situation was indeed as she¡¯d said, and Jaime had let her live because he had fallen for her. Either way, Jamie Lannister was gone.


    The greatest swordsman of this generation was back to Tywin, and this time, he kept both hands. That wasn¡¯t good.


    I glanced toward Catelyn Stark. Her lips were pressed into a tight line. This woman had released Jaime Lannister against her son''s wishes, gambling everything on retrieving her daughters. Now one daughter was my wife, and the other still missing¡ªwhile the Kingslayer ran free. I wonder how she felt. That dumb bitch.


    "I understand," I replied finally, turning back to Brienne. "Whatever the case, it means Lannister men are still lurking in or around King''s Landing." I turned to Ros, who stood to the side of the throne in her formal attire. "What do you have to say about this, Ros?"


    Ros¡¯ deep blue dress rustled against the stone floor as she lowered her head. "My deepest apologies, Your Grace... My network should have detected their movements. I''ll increase searches immediately and tighten security around the city gates."


    Her face showed genuine concern¡ªshe knew that failing to catch the Lannister spies could reflect poorly on her new position.


    "See that you do." I kept my tone mild but firm. "I expect a full report by tomorrow as I have to leave very soon."


    I turned my attention back to Brienne of Tarth. The woman was a strange sight in the Red Keep¡ªtaller than most men, broader than more, with straw-colored hair cut short around a face that was rather handsome than pretty. Her breasts are huge here, though. But there was something compelling about her presence.


    She wore battered armor that had seen better days, and a sword hung at her hip. Despite her failure, she''d traveled all this way to face potential punishment rather than flee.


    That spoke to her character¡ªto her honor.


    Brienne of Tarth was an honorable Knight.


    "...Welcome to King''s Landing, Lady Brienne," I said finally. "Such a strong, great warrior as you¡ªit''s a pity you were put against Jaime Lannister of all people. I¡¯m grateful to the deity above that he let you return alive."


    I paused, considering the opportunity before me one more time. Brienne was indeed someone whose honor was unquestionable. In that case¡­ it should be fine, right?


    "I don''t wish to waste your rest time further, but I have a proposition." I straightened on the throne, looking at her like how a King should. "What do you think about the position of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?"


    **


    **


    **

 [87] How Do I Meet the Mother of Dragons?

    Chapter 87: How Do I Meet the Mother of Dragons?


    ¡ª


    "What do you think about the position of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?"


    The throne room fell silent. You could''ve heard a drop of water hit the stone floor.


    Brienne''s eyes were wide, her mouth opening slightly. It was easy to read the shock on her face¡ªthe woman lacked the guile most courtiers possessed. She looked like I''d just offered her the entire kingdom rather than a white cloak.


    Across the room, Catelyn Stark''s composure shattered. The cool, collected Northern lady visibly flinched, her head snapping toward me so fast I thought she might strain her neck. She gripped Robb''s arm in what appeared to be a painful hold.


    Robb himself looked torn between respect and wariness. His brow furrowed as he studied me, likely wondering what game I was playing by offering such a prestigious position to someone who had just failed in their duty.


    "Your Grace..." Brienne finally found her voice. She squared her massive shoulders, lifting her chin. "I am honored beyond words. But I cannot accept. Firstly, I am unworthy¡­ Secondly, I swore an oath to Lady Catelyn. I serve her."


    Predictable. Honor was so goddamn inconvenient sometimes. "Lady Brienne," I replied, leaning forward. "You are not unworthy, unless you insult me by doubting my judgement of worthiness. And your devotion to your oaths is precisely why I offer this position. The Kingsguard needs someone who understands what duty truly means. As for you serving my mother-in-law¡­"


    I turned my gaze deliberately toward Catelyn Stark, silently inviting her to speak up. Catelyn was a smart woman. She¡¯d pounce on this opportunity if I hadn¡¯t judged her wrong.


    She hesitated for a moment but then strode forward, her steps echoing across the stone floor. "Lady Brienne," Catelyn said clearly and firmly. I¡¯m grateful to have your duty. Despite my unnatural requests, you have served me faithfully, and I am forever grateful. But I would release you from your oath to me if it means you¡¯ll become Lord Commander."


    Brienne blinked in surprise. "My lady?"


    "My daughter Sansa will be Queen," Catelyn continued, her eyes flickering briefly to mine. "I would appreciate nothing more than knowing she has someone as loyal and honorable as you to protect her. You would still be keeping your oath to me by protecting my blood. Will you not accept?"


    I watched this performance with interest. Catelyn was as clever as I''d given her credit for. She saw the opportunity¡ªhaving her own sworn sword as Lord Commander would give her daughter an added layer of protection. A loyal shield in a court of vipers.


    I didn¡¯t mind that.


    Brienne of Tarth was indeed a loyal knight. Well, not quite a knight yet, but she will be tomorrow when I grant her knighthood and officially announce her position. She was incredibly strong too, and I¡¯d love someone like her as my sword. That is, if she accepts.


    Brienne looked between us, her conflict evident. Her hand gripped her sword hilt as if seeking reassurance from the familiar weight of steel.


    "...If that is what you wish, Lady Stark," she said finally. Then she turned to me, still on her knee as she lowered her head. "Your Grace, since Lady Catelyn releases me from my oath, I would be honored to accept your offer. I¡¯m incredibly grateful that you¡­ see my strength, despite my failure. So I will serve you, the crown, and Lady Sansa with my life."


    I smiled. Sansa was lacking against Margaery recently, but with the support of the Lord Commander, her position will gain more favor. "Excellent," I said, satisfaction warming my voice. "Rise, Brienne of Tarth, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Although the official announcement, along with your knighthood, is tomorrow, so it¡¯s wrong to call you that now. Freshen up, and rest well."


    She stood, remarkably straight-backed for someone who had endured so much travel. The woman was a true warrior. Catelyn''s eyes met mine for a brief moment. In them, I saw a mixture of gratitude and caution. She knew this arrangement benefited us both.


    I''d gained a loyal, honorable commander.


    And she''d gained a protector for her daughter.


    The Game of Thrones was growing more interesting.


    ****


    On the other side of the world, a few days after Brienne¡¯s ascension in Westeros, Daenerys was in Meereen as she studied the diminutive man before her with guarded curiosity.


    ¡°Rise,¡± she said, watching the dwarf and eunuch stand from their knees. Despite his travel-worn appearance and the dirt still clinging to his clothes, there was something undeniably formidable about Tyrion Lannister.


    How could such a short man bear such a presence? His mismatched eyes held a keen intelligence that seemed to assess everything in the tent¡ªfrom the fake dragon skulls mounted on stands to the Unsullied guards flanking the entrance.


    She¡¯d have loved to show off her real dragons, but¡­ Rhaegal wasn¡¯t here with her, and Drogon was nowhere to be found.


    Outside of that, everything had been moving smoothly.


    The conquest of Meereen had brought her this pavilion, along with the entire city. After freeing Yunkai, somehow she¡¯d already conquered Meereen before she knew it thanks to the help of the Golden Company. With 18,000 men at her command, it wasn¡¯t a surprise.


    Her current abode, a titanic stone pyramid, once belonged to a Great Master. It had been repurposed for the Mother of Dragons now. Maps of Slaver''s Bay lay scattered across the table between them, weighed down by small figurines representing her growing forces.


    "So," she adjusted her position in the high-backed chair, the wood smooth beneath her fingers. "The Imp of Casterly Rock seeks an audience with the Dragon Queen. Why¡¯re you silent?" Her voice remained level, betraying nothing of her thoughts. "You''ve traveled far, Lord Tyrion. And you, Lord Varys. Speak up."


    "Indeed, Your Grace," Tyrion replied with a slight bow. "Though I assure you, the journey was not entirely by choice. I¡¯m just unsure how to bring this up."


    ¡°Neither am I a Lord, Your Grace,¡± Varys commented, his hands resting in his sleeves.


    Behind her, Ser Jorah shifted his weight, his armor creaking softly. She could sense his disapproval without looking. Ser Barristan remained stoic on her other side, his aged hand resting casually on his sword hilt. Neither of them liked the two guests.


    "And yet here you stand," Daenerys continued, "in the tent of the daughter of the king you helped overthrow. Sister of the king who made you flee."


    To her left, Lord Varys cleared his throat. "If I may, Your Grace. Lord Tyrion''s role in Robert''s Rebellion was nonexistent. He was but a child when your father fell. As for your brother Viserys¡­ none of us saw it coming. How he¡¯d gain such powers and everything around him."


    Daenerys turned her gaze to the bald man. His perfumed scent slowly flew through the Meereenese heat, somehow remaining fresh despite their journey.


    "What do they call you again, Lord Varys?" she asked, "The Spider¡­ The Master of Whisperers who served the Usurper. How did you not see my brother coming?" She leaned forward slightly. "All this is too suspicious. So tell me why I shouldn''t have you both executed where you stand."


    "Because I despise my father and sister as much as you do," Tyrion answered before Varys could speak. "And because I know things about Westeros your current advisors cannot tell you."


    Ser Barristan stepped forward, chuckling at that. "Forgive me for interrupting, Your Grace, but I¡¯ve lived this dwarf¡¯s three lifetimes. I fail to see what he can tell you that I can¡¯t. The Lannisters cannot be trusted. They orchestrated the deaths of your family members."


    "Yet here you stand in my service, Ser Barristan," she replied without looking away from Tyrion. "After years of serving the Usurper."


    The old knight accepted the rebuke with quiet dignity.


    "I have sworn my sword to you, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah interjected. "These men are dangerous. Particularly this... spymaster." Varys just smiled in response.


    Daenerys raised her hand for silence. "I want to hear what Lord Tyrion proposes."


    Tyrion glanced at Varys before addressing her directly. "Your Grace, the Seven Kingdoms are in chaos. Your brother sits on the Iron Throne, but his position is precarious. The Lannisters have retreated to Casterly Rock, and many houses remain uncommitted." He paused. "I offer you knowledge, strategy, and a perspective from the very heart of Westerosi politics."


    "And in return?" Daenerys asked, one eyebrow arched.


    "A position as your advisor," he replied. "And wine. Preferably not the Meereenese swill they serve in the city. And¡­ there¡¯s someone I wish to save back in the Red Keep."


    Despite herself, Daenerys felt the corner of her mouth twitch. She composed her features quickly. "You have a peculiar manner for someone begging a favor."


    "I''m not begging," Tyrion said. "I''m offering a fair exchange. My mind for your protection. While Ser Barristan is right about his experience, he¡¯s a Knight first and foremost. He also wasn¡¯t allowed in the small council for the last twenty or so years. Without meaning offence, he doesn¡¯t know how the realm operates nowadays. I do, for I¡¯ve served as the Hand of the King for the last year or so."


    Daenerys'' gaze shifted to Varys. "And you? What do you offer besides honeyed words and betrayal?"


    "Information, Your Grace," Varys replied, his hands folded within his sleeves. "My little birds sing in every corner of the world. I know your brother''s weaknesses, his allies, and his plans. After all¡­ it was me who sent Young Griff to you."


    That made Dany¡¯s eyes tremble.


    It was him¡­? How? That boy hadn¡¯t told her anything about this. However, he couldn¡¯t be lying here; it could be confirmed any time, so it¡¯d be stupid to risk such a lie.


    "...That aside. Do you know how big broth- Viserys attained his dragon egg?" she asked sharply. It bothered her for a moment that she¡¯d called him by his familial title out of habit, though. That imbecile was no brother of hers.


    Varys shook his head. "I¡¯m aware he stole an egg from you, but I don¡¯t know how he awakened it¡­ Perhaps it awakened on its own when your two did? It could be the case since the three eggs had been together for centuries. He named his dragon Viserion, that I know of. Which is quite narcissistic, but it suits him I suppose.¡±


    "It does. And yes, he did steal one of my eggs," Daenerys said coldly, remembering the night Viserys had held a sword to her belly, threatening her unborn child as he fled with the golden egg. The memory still burned. "Before they hatched."


    Ser Jorah stepped forward. "Khaleesi, I counsel caution. I feel like we¡¯re talking about important things with them before judging what to do with their heads. These men arrive too conveniently after your recent victories."


    Ser Barristan nodded in agreement. "The Lannister may have value, Your Grace, but I would advise against giving him too much information too quickly."


    Daenerys drummed her fingers against the armrest, considering.  S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She didn¡¯t find her current advisors¡¯ words that worrying. If they posed any danger, she could just kill them. It mattered more that they had important news. Drogon and Rhaegal had grown tremendously, apparently Viserys''s golden dragon was bigger? She didn¡¯t know since the reports couldn¡¯t specify how big this golden dragon was.


    However, Varys probably knew since he was the Master Spy of Westeros. She had to know if her brother¡¯s single dragon would be dangerous for her babies. The thought of facing her brother and his dragon sent a mixture of rage and determination through her veins.


    A Dance of Dragons.


    She had been unwilling to think of it before, but she¡¯d recreate it if necessary. If it meant she¡¯d get to kill that imbecile.


    "I¡¯ve made my decision, Sers," she decided, turning to Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion, I will allow you to advise me¡ªbut on a trial basis. Prove your worth, and you may earn a permanent position." She fixed him with a steely gaze. "Betray me, and your death will make your father''s infamous cruelties seem merciful by comparison."


    Relief washed over Tyrion''s face. "A fair arrangement, Your Grace. I look forward to demonstrating my considerable talents."


    "And what of me, Your Grace?" Varys inquired softly.


    Daenerys regarded him coolly. "You may remain as well, though under guard. If your claim about sending that boy to me is true, it means you¡¯ve already done me a great benefit. Your... little birds, as you call them, will now sing for me."


    Varys bowed deeply. "They already do, Your Grace."


    ¡°Good,¡± she said. She sighed, feeling a little complicated, although she felt victorious in growing her army. Before she could say anything else, a guard appeared at the tent entrance and bowed. ¡°Your Grace, Young Griff is here for your tea invitation."


    At this, Daenerys felt a genuine smile form. "Let him in."


    As the guard departed, she caught Tyrion''s puzzled expression. The Lannister clearly hadn''t expected this development.


    Daenerys felt a surge of satisfaction. With Aegon by her side¡ªher nephew, the true son of Rhaegar¡ªshe would have a stronger claim than Viserys could ever muster. Together, they would take back what was stolen from House Targaryen.


    Her brother might have one dragon, but she had two. One dragon rider couldn¡¯t win against two, could it? Plus, her nephew''s loyalty and the growing army of Unsullied. Soon, she would show Viserys what it truly meant to wake the dragon.


    That smirk on her face lasted until a loud, unfamiliar roar screeched through the sky.


    A Draconic Roar spread through the city as the night sky brightened unnaturally.


    ****


    A Few Minutes Earlier¡­


    The cool air whipped around me as Viserion descended toward Meereen''s highest tower.


    The night sky enveloped us, stars scattered across the canvas like dragon''s eggs on black sand. Below, torches dotted the foreign city¡ªhundreds of tiny flames that would soon be overwhelmed by a much greater fire.


    I tightened my grip on Viserion''s scales, my thighs pressed against her massive neck as she slowed our descent with steady wing beats. The city sprawled beneath us like a poorly constructed anthill, begging to be kicked over. Somewhere in that maze of sandstone and narrow streets, my dear sister played at being a queen.


    Viserion landed with surprising grace for a creature her size, her claws gripping the ancient stone of the deserted tower.


    I dismounted carefully, my boots finding purchase on the weathered surface. The desert breeze carried strange spices and the distant smell of the sea¡ªso different from King''s Landing''s stench.


    "Perfect landing, girl," I murmured, patting her golden scales. They gleamed like molten gold even in the dim moonlight. My beautiful beast had grown tremendously since our first meeting, her wingspan now casting shadows across half the tower.


    ¡°This place¡­¡± she said slowly. ¡°I smell¡­ family¡­¡±


    I didn¡¯t smell the same, so Dany¡¯s dragons were probably not here. The smell was from when they were. They couldn¡¯t be too far away, though. ¡°Good,¡± I said, ¡°If you pick a fight, make sure to win. Although don¡¯t kill any of them, alright? They¡¯re your siblings.¡±


    She turned her massive head toward me, those intelligent eyes watching me expectantly. I ran my hand along her jaw, feeling the heat radiating from within. ¡°Siblings¡­ shouldn¡¯t be¡­ killed?¡± she asked, tilting her head.


    Since she was asking questions like that, I hoped she¡¯d abide by my words.


    ¡°Yes. Otherwise¡­ you¡¯ll be all alone in this world. I mean, you have me, you have my blood in your body, but I¡¯m your Father, they¡¯re your brothers. Or sisters. I don¡¯t know how dragons work,¡± I said. ¡°Anyways, family is important. Blood is important. Don¡¯t waste it by killing them. And¡­ worst case scenario, don¡¯t die if it¡¯s them about to kill you. Call for me, and I¡¯ll come to you.¡±


    She scoffed, ¡°I don¡¯t need your help¡­ weak human.¡±


    I chuckled. "Fly high, girl. Circle the city," I instructed softly. "Make them see you clearly, but don''t attack anyone unless provoked. I want their fear, not their deaths¡ªat least not yet."


    ¡°Grrgh,¡± Viserion growled softly, the sound vibrating through my chest like distant thunder. She understood more than most humans would suspect.


    With a powerful beat of her wings that nearly knocked me off my feet, she launched herself upward, spiraling into the night sky.


    The sight was magnificent. Her golden scales caught the moonlight and reflected it back tenfold, casting an eerie glow upon the city. The display had its intended effect almost immediately¡ªstartled cries erupted from the streets below, followed by shouts of alarm.


    I smiled, watching her climb higher until she was circling just below the clouds, perfectly visible to every terrified soul in Meereen.


    This should shake my sister''s precious confidence, I thought, leaning against a crumbling merlon to enjoy the spectacle. An unknown dragon appearing in her supposedly secure city. She¡¯ll know how easy it is for me to come here, kill her, and flee.


    I''d heard rumors about the oh-so-glorious Mother of Dragons¡ªhow she''d freed slaves and built an army from nothing. Touching, really. She was playing ruler in the dirt while I sat on the Iron Throne in Westeros.


    But I was no fool. Dany had two dragons, and though my Viserion was formidable, numbers mattered. I needed to understand her position before making any grand gestures.


    The commotion below grew louder. Guards shouted orders to stay safe and keep the people safe. Civilians fled from the streets, taking shelter in their homes. Viserion''s silhouette against the moon was having precisely the effect I''d hoped for.


    They can''t even tell this isn''t one of their queen''s beasts, I mused, allowing myself a chuckle. That''s the thing about dragons¡ªone looks much like another to the untrained eye. Just a monster from the sky. I¡¯m sure my sister can tell, though.


    ¡°Time to move,¡± I pulled the hood of my black cloak over my head, tucking away the black-wig I was wearing. The tower''s ancient stairwell awaited¡ªa tight spiral of worn steps leading down into the heart of the city.


    Overhead, Viserion let out a roar that shook the very foundations of the buildings around me. She used that [Skill] that made her body go all bright, as the night sky turned like midday sun.


    The sound sent a fresh wave of panic through the crowd. I smiled, enjoying my dragon¡¯s performance as I blended into the crowd.


    Now, how do I meet the ¡®Mother of Dragons¡¯?


    **


    **


    **

 [88] Meereen’s Truth

    Chapter 88: Meereen''s Truth


    ¡ª


    Daenerys rushed to the high windows of the Great Pyramid, her heart pounding against her ribs. The deafening roar that had shaken the very stones beneath her feet was followed by an unnatural brightness that transformed night into day.


    "Oh, gods above..." she whispered, gripping the windowsill as her eyes scanned the sky.  The brightness made it difficult to discern details at first. A massive winged shape cut through the clouds, its body radiating golden light that outshone the moon and stars.


    For a fleeting moment, hope surged through her veins¡ªperhaps Drogon had returned after his weeks-long absence, or Rhaegal had somehow broken free of his chains. And whatever this display of light was, it was a new magic of theirs. But something felt wrong.


    The silhouette moved differently.


    The wingspan appeared greater, the body more streamlined.


    Behind her, she heard Ser Barristan Selmy curse and draw his sword. The soft scrape of steel against leather was barely audible over the commotion rising from the streets below. Ser Jorah moved closer to her side, his hand instinctively reaching for his own weapon.


    "That''s..."


    To her surprise, it was Tyrion Lannister who spoke up, his voice cutting through the tension. She''d expected fear from the dwarf, seeing a dragon for the first time¡ªmany grown men had fallen to their knees weeping at the sight of her children. But there was no fear in his voice, only recognition that made her blood run cold.


    "That''s Viserion... your brother''s dragon. What''s it doing in Meereen?"


    Daenerys felt the tiny hairs on her arms and neck rise. Her head snapped back toward the creature, studying it with new understanding.


    Now that she knew it wasn''t one of her babies, she could see it clearly despite the weird brightness¡ªthe differences in shape and movement. This beast appeared more refined and terrifying. Its muscles were better defined beneath those gleaming scales, and its movements spoke of greater precision and purpose.


    "How is that possible?" she breathed, more to herself than anyone else. "How could it be so..."


    Perfect.


    The word stuck in her throat. She''d raised her dragons from birth, nursed them on roasted meat, and watched them grow from the size of cats to fearsome predators. But this creature¡ªthis Viserion, who her brother had arrogantly named after himself¡ªmoved with a deadly grace that made her own children seem almost clumsy by comparison.


    She squinted against the unnatural brightness, searching for a rider. The dragon''s back appeared empty, but at this distance, in this light, she couldn''t be certain.


    "I don''t see him," she said, her voice hardening. "I don''t see my brother."


    "Perhaps he isn''t riding," Varys suggested, his soft voice carrying across the chamber. "Or perhaps he''s somewhere else in the city. It could be either case."


    The thought sent a chill through her. If Viserys was in Meereen, walking her streets while his dragon created a distraction...


    "Your Grace," Ser Jorah interrupted her thoughts, "we should move you to a more secure location. If your brother has come for you¡ª"


    "I am not hiding," she cut him off, lifting her chin. "I am the blood of the dragon. I do not cower from my own kin. Plus, what¡¯s more secure than this stone pyramid? If he can cut through eight thousand Unsullied, then there¡¯s nothing else we can do to stop him."


    Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan exchanged a look and sighed. She was right.


    "Aunt, I am here," a voice called from behind as fast footsteps entered.


    Daenerys turned to find Young Griff¡ªno, Aegon, her nephew¡ªstanding at the entrance to the chamber. He was breathing a bit faster, clearly startled by the noise too, so he¡¯d run over. He didn¡¯t wear his disguise of blue hair anymore, and rather had his silver-gold hair in proud display as it caught the unnatural light flooding through the windows, making him appear almost ethereal.


    His Valyrian features, so like her own, were tight with concern as his eyes moved from her face to the scene beyond the windows. ¡°Was that Drogon?¡±


    "...No. Come see this," she commanded, gesturing him forward.


    He crossed the chamber quickly and stood beside her at the window. She watched his eyes widen, his pupils contracting against the golden light as he took in the beast circling above their city.


    ¡°What in the¡­¡±


    "Where is Rhaegal?" she asked urgently. "If this huge beast attacks Meereen, we need Rhaegal to fight it off."


    Aegon''s jaw tightened. "Rhaegal is still chained in the basement. I just returned from feeding him, actually." He shook his head, cursing under his breath. "And I don''t think he can beat this creature, aunt. Look at the size difference."


    The admission hung heavy in the air. Daenerys felt a flicker of anger at the suggestion that one of her children might be outmatched, but she''d seen Viserion with her own eyes. The golden dragon moved with a predator''s lethal confidence.


    They weren¡¯t that different in height, but Viserion was wider, thanks to her muscle. She was a rippling sea of muscles that Rhaegal couldn¡¯t compare to. Perhaps Drogon¡­


    "We can''t be sure," she replied, unwilling to concede defeat before battle was even joined. "Plus, if Rhaegal is injured, I think Drogon will come flying from wherever he is." She placed a hand on his arm, meeting his violet eyes with her own. "So just be ready... in case this beast attacks. You need to ride Rhaegal."


    Aegon''s expression shifted, an odd emotion crossing over before he quickly hid it with determination. "Yes," he nodded firmly.


    Outside, Viserion roared again, the sound reverberating through the pyramid''s ancient stones. Daenerys turned back to the window, watching golden light reflect off the city''s sandstone buildings before it began to calm down.


    Whatever game her brother was playing, she would not be unprepared.


    ****


    What I needed first of all was to understand the situation in Meereen.


    I was here to meet my sister, but I wanted to understand what was going on before that. I also had to decide how to approach this¡ªwhether to sneak into her room or make an arrogant official entrance.


    The latter would be more suitable for relations between the King of Westeros and the Queen of Meereen, but it wasn''t what I needed. I wanted to gauge her reaction upon seeing me, not give her time to prepare and put on a political facade. Surprise often revealed more than cautious conversation.


    So, to gather information, I blended into the crowd easily enough. The common folks of Meereen were a diverse lot¡ªtraders from across Essos, former slaves with tattooed faces, and sellswords looking for work. My black cloak and hood weren''t remarkable in this sea of varied garb. Plus, since my silver hair wasn¡¯t visible, it was safe.


    For the next few hours, I wandered the city, listening more than speaking.


    Meereen''s layout revealed itself to me in fragments. There was a lot to take. The vast pyramid where the "Mother of Dragons" held court, the fighting pits she''d supposedly closed, and the temples converted to barracks for her Unsullied.


    What struck me most was how divided the city remained. In the taverns near the harbor, freed slaves praised their "Mhysa" with near-religious fervor. Their eyes lit up when they spoke of the chains she''d broken, the masters she''d crucified. It was the look of people who''d found salvation after a lifetime of torment.


    "She came with fire and blood," one man told another as I sat nearby, sipping sour wine. His voice held the reverence of a true believer. "The masters never thought we''d see freedom. Now look at us¡ªcitizens, not property. Ah, my life feels complete!"


    But in the wealthier districts, where merchants and former slave owners huddled in depleted luxury, the sentiment shifted dramatically.


    It was harder to catch their words, but not impossible. There, Daenerys was "the foreign whore," "the mad dragon spawn," a destroyer of tradition and commerce.


    "Trade has collapsed," I heard a silk merchant complain bitterly. "Without slaves, who makes the goods? Who loads the ships? This is frustrating. She''ll burn this city to the ground with her good intentions."


    He has firm logic. This city¡¯s been the center of slavery for centuries, so it¡¯s unable to work like the other cities so fast. It¡¯ll take time. And that¡¯s if Dany survives the dozen assassination attempts, just like the original timeline.


    It was exactly as I''d expected. Daenerys had conquered but not truly ruled. She''d broken chains but built nothing sustainable in their place. Classic Targaryen fire¡ªall destruction, little creation. I liked that she still had the family blood.


    I mentally noted which neighborhoods housed former masters still clinging to power. If I needed allies against my sister, the seeds of discontent were already well-planted. I hoped not, though.


    By mid-afternoon of the next day, I''d learned that my sister had a growing problem with masked assassins calling themselves the Sons of the Harpy. They were already moving.


    They struck from shadows, killing Unsullied and freed slaves alike. The whispers suggested these attacks were funded by wealthy families from Yunkai and Astapor¡ªcities she''d "liberated" before moving on.


    "Eleven Unsullied dead last week alone," I overheard as I lingered near a baker''s stall. "Found them with their throats cut, those golden masks left nearby as a message."


    This was useful.


    My sister''s hold on Meereen was more tenuous than her followers suggested. She was struggling to control even one city, yet dreamed of conquering seven kingdoms? The irony almost made me laugh.


    At the same time, it made me worried for her life. I¡¯d prevented many deaths thanks to the decisions I¡¯d taken. This world was already far different than the original. That also meant, since I¡¯d prevented so many deaths, that¡¯d influence the deaths of many others too. That could include my sister. The last true Targaryen blood other than me. I didn¡¯t want that.


    I checked the sky occasionally throughout my explorations. Viserion had left the skies of Meereen, likely roaming the lands nearby. I didn''t mind. The impact was made last night. Every person in this city now knew a golden dragon had appeared¡ªand many would be asking why the "Mother of Dragons" couldn''t control it.


    My beautiful beast had grown remarkably since I first hatched her. Her golden scales now gleamed with power, and her wingspan caused shadows that could engulf entire buildings. She was far superior to my sister¡¯s foolish lizards. She was intelligent.


    As night descended once again, I found myself in a dingy inn near the fighting pits. The place stank of sweat and cheap liquor, but it was filled with mercenaries and soldiers. It was the perfect place to gather more intelligence.


    I ordered ale, the liquid more piss than drink, and took a seat in the corner where shadows provided cover. Meereen trash. I need some Myrish good, I guess. The barkeep, a weary man with deep lines etched into his face, slid the tankard across the wooden counter with practiced ease.


    My ears perked up when two men in gleaming armor walked in, their boots heavy against the worn floorboards. I paused for a brief moment. They were the most important bits in this situation.


    The golden skull clasps on their cloaks clearly marked them as Golden Company men. That particular sellsword group¡­ The room quieted momentarily before conversation resumed at a lower volume.


    "Two of your finest ales," the taller one called out, "and whatever passes for food in this shithole."


    They laughed among themselves, taking the best seats near the hearth without asking if they were occupied. The smaller man, with a scar running down his right cheek, kicked his feet onto the table and leaned back in his chair. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The innkeeper hurried over with their drinks and two bowls of what looked like fish stew. He hovered anxiously, wringing his hands. "That''ll be three copper stars, if it please you."


    Both men stared at him for a moment before erupting in laughter.


    "You''ve got balls, old man," the scarred one said, slapping the table. "Don¡¯t you know us? We''re the Golden Company, the people who freed this city. You got no shame asking money from us?"


    The innkeeper''s face paled. "And I¡¯m thankful for your duty to the city, but¡­ Please, sers, I have a family to¡ª"


    The taller soldier stood, his hand moving to his sword hilt. "Did we ask about your fucking family? The Queen''s allies drink free. That''s the new rule."


    With a casual motion, he knocked the cups and bowls to the floor, where they shattered. The innkeeper jumped back, eyes downcast, mumbling apologies.


    By then, my blood was boiling. I''d seen this kind of arrogance before¡ªmen who thought strength gave them the right to take without giving. It was the same mentality that had built the slaving cities my sister claimed to oppose.


    However, it wasn¡¯t the arrogance that made my blood boil. I wasn¡¯t that hypocritical yet.


    It was the confirmation. So the news about the Golden Company accompanying my sister was true.


    That could only mean one thing. Varys, that snake, played his cards right and sent Faegon to Dany. It irritated me seeing outsiders, fucking Blackfyres, try to meddle in my family business. Those Blackfyre bastards had no right to the Targaryen name, no right to my throne, and certainly no right to manipulate my sister.


    A few minutes later, I drained my ale, set the cup down, and walked to the counter. The innkeeper flinched as I approached, likely expecting more abuse.


    I placed a gold dragon on the counter. "Keep the change."


    ¡°Ah¡­ t-thank you.¡±


    I walked out, following the two Golden Company bastards who''d just left. Their laughter echoed down the street, unaware of the death trailing silently in their wake.


    The golden skull clasp would soon match its owner''s fate.


    **


    **


    **


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 [89] Rats in the Alley

    Chapter 89: Rats in the Alley


    ¡ª


    I trailed the two Golden Company men through Meereen''s winding streets, keeping to the shadows. The drunken fools wove an unsteady path, their golden skull clasps catching the moonlight as they stumbled away from the main thoroughfare. I stayed twenty paces behind, silent as the grave that awaited them.


    They turned down a narrow alley between two sandstone buildings, their voices echoing off the close walls as they joked about some slave girl they''d both had. Perfect.


    The alley opened into a small courtyard¡ªa dead end with high walls on three sides and only one exit. The taller one paused to piss against a wall while his companion slumped against the opposite side, belching loudly.


    I stepped out from the shadows, my footsteps deliberately heavy against the packed earth.


    "Evening, gentlemen of the Golden Company."


    They spun around, hands fumbling for their swords. Too slow. Far too slow.


    "Who the fuck are you?" the taller one demanded, squinting through the darkness.


    I didn''t waste breath on introductions, nor did I bother to draw my sword or spear to use my Skills. My fist connected with the scarred one''s face before he could fully draw his blade. The impact sent a satisfying shock up my arm as his nose shattered beneath my knuckles. I felt bone give way to cartilage, blood spraying in a hot arc across my hand.


    He dropped like a stone, sword clattering uselessly beside him. The taller one managed to draw his weapon, slashing wildly in my direction. "Fucking die!"


    I sidestepped the clumsy swing and drove my fist into his breastplate. The metal crumpled inward with a sickening crunch, and his eyes widened in shock as he staggered backward, golden armor buckled as if struck by a warhammer.


    "What... the... hell?" he gasped, clutching his chest.


    These men had killed for gold across two continents, yet against me, they weren''t warriors¡ªthey were prey. I was far beyond human limits for two men to pose any threat. Anyone who wanted to kill me would have to bring an army.


    However, it seemed I hadn¡¯t calculated my strength properly. He wasn¡¯t subdued yet as he tried to attack again. I caught his next swing easily, twisting his wrist until the bones snapped. He howled, dropping to his knees.


    His companion tried crawling away, blood pouring from his ruined face. I planted my boot on his back, forcing him flat against the dirt.


    "Going somewhere?" I asked, grinding my heel between his shoulder blades.


    "Please," he gurgled through blood and broken teeth. "We have gold¡ª"


    I increased the pressure until something cracked beneath my foot. "I''m not interested in your coin."


    Grabbing the taller one by his throat, I slammed him against the stone wall hard enough to crack the sandstone. I held him there, feet dangling above the ground, while he clawed weakly at my arm.


    "Let''s talk about your employers," I said conversationally, tightening my grip just enough to let him know death was a breath away. "Tell me about Daenerys Targaryen. How loyal are you to her?"


    "We serve... the Queen¡­ with all we have," he choked out. "The Mother of Dragons..."


    I clicked my tongue in disapproval. "First lie." I drove my fist into his stomach, feeling his armor fold beneath the impact. "Try again."


    His companion moaned from the ground. "We''re loyal! We''ve fought for her since Yunkai!"


    I released the taller one, letting him crumple to the ground, then pulled a small dagger from my belt. Crouching beside the scarred man, I drove the blade through his palm, pinning his hand to the packed earth. His scream echoed off the walls before I clamped my hand over his mouth.


    "Since you¡¯re so loyal to the Targaryen name, then let''s ask something else," I said, voice dangerously soft. "How many Blackfyres are in your ranks?"


    Their faces went slack with shock.


    "I don''t know how many¡ª"


    I twisted the dagger, eliciting another muffled scream. "Wrong answer. Since you know what a Balckfyre is, you know how many there are."


    Blackfyres. The bastard branch of House Targaryen that only lived for their desire to claim the Iron Throne for themselves.


    It began with Daemon Blackfyre, a king¡¯s acknowledged bastard gifted the ancestral sword ¡®Blackfyre,¡¯ which he took as his sigil. He launched rebellions that nearly toppled the realm. Each time they lost, they fled across the Narrow Sea¡ªsome hid in Dorne, others in Essos, nursing their grudge against us true Targaryens. Over the generations, they married into wealthy families of Essos, merchants, and local nobles, and their name kept breeding children who quietly carried the Blackfyre blood.


    They reappear across history whenever they sense weakness in the Crown, throwing a rebellion to claim the throne. The Golden Company was made by the Blackfyre, and they¡¯d always fought for the Blackfyre during the rebellion. Until the very last, 20 years ago, when their defeat was said to have extinguished the Blackfyre line for good.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me repeat myself, bastards,¡± I said, glaring into their eyes.


    The taller one, still gasping for breath, spoke up. "A few... just a few. About a dozen."


    I raised an eyebrow. "That many? All Blackfyres were exterminated during the last rebellion.¡± Even if Young Griff was born out of pure luck, how could there be more?


    The man on the ground spat blood. "Female line," he gasped. "The women... they escaped... had sons. And¡­ the line continued."


    Of course. It was so simple that I should have seen it immediately. The female Blackfyres had survived, giving birth to sons who carried the bloodline, if not the name. They were clever rats, hiding in the darkness all these years and waiting for the perfect opportunity.


    "When is your precious ''queen'' planning to attack Westeros?" I demanded.


    They exchanged glances.


    "We don''t know," the taller one finally admitted. "The commanders haven''t told us anything."


    I studied his face carefully. He wasn''t lying¡ªor if he was, he believed his own deception. These were just foot soldiers, not privy to the grand plans.


    To wrap things up, I asked them about the pyramid guards'' patrol routine. I could just fly to the highest floor, but it was better to know which window to look out for. They answered obediently, as much as they knew.


    "Well, gentlemen," I said, rising to my feet. "You''ve been most informative."


    "You¡­ you''ll let us go?" the scarred one asked, hope flickering across his battered face.


    I smiled. "Not quite."


    What followed wasn''t clean or quick. I wanted whoever found these bodies to understand exactly what happened to those who stood against the true Dragon King. I wanted every Golden Company soldier in Meereen to see and remember. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    When I finished, I wiped blood from my hands onto their cloaks. I arranged their golden skull clasps carefully on what remained of their chests¡ªa message for those who would follow.


    A familiar blue window appeared before me as I straightened.


    [You¡¯ve killed a human - Golden Company Mercenary.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve killed a human - Golden Company Mercenary.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    [You¡¯ve leveled up!]


    [You¡¯ve reached Level 49!]


    I smiled and swiped through to check my status. It¡¯d been a while since I¡¯d last done so, but there wasn¡¯t much of a change.


    === Page [?] ===


    Viserys Targaryen


    The Dragon King


    23 Years Old


    Level 49


    56 STR


    59 END


    56 DEX


    61 INT


    57 LUC


    170 AUTH


    === Page [?] ===


    A few weeks ago, it was Level 47. I wasn¡¯t growing as fast anymore through these small killings. I wanted another war. Regardless, my progress pleased me. Soon enough, I''d reach level 50 and unlock whatever new abilities awaited.


    I was becoming stronger by the day, and my Auth stats made me nearly impossible to resist. That was why these bastards started talking so easily.


    I looked down at the broken bodies one last time. These men were just the beginning. If my sister had truly allied with false dragons¡ªBlackfyres masquerading as Targaryens¡ªI would need to move quickly.


    And I¡¯d need to teach her a lesson, too, for being a stupid bitch.


    **


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    **

 [90] Two Heads of a Dragon

    Chapter 90: Two Heads of a Dragon


    ¡ª


    Daenerys sat stiffly on the ornate Meereenese couch, the carved wooden armrests cool beneath her palms. The meeting chamber felt smaller than usual with so many people filling it.


    Ser Barristan stood vigilantly by the door, Ser Jorah paced near the window, while Tyrion Lannister and Aegon sat across from her, the former still looking shell-shocked.


    "So you''re telling me," Tyrion said, breaking a tense silence as he stared at Aegon, "that you''re Rhaegar''s son? The same infant whose head was supposedly smashed against a wall by the Mountain? Damn, I wonder what Prince Oberyn thinks of all this."


    "I was smuggled out," Aegon replied, his silver-gold hair catching the afternoon light streaming through the high windows. "A substitute was placed in my cradle. As for Uncle¡­ Oberyn, he¡¯s been doubtful in his letters. Although Uncle Doran trusts me."


    Tyrion''s mismatched eyes narrowed. "How convenient. How are we¨C"


    Daenerys raised a hand. "Lord Tyrion, we''ve established my nephew''s identity. There will be time for more questions later." She turned to Aegon. "You had something urgent to report, dear nephew?"


    Aegon straightened, his face sobering. "Yes, Aunt. Two of our men were found dead this morning in the eastern district."


    "Sons of the Harpy again?" Daenerys felt her jaw tighten. The masked attackers had grown bolder in recent weeks, striking closer to her stronghold. "How many does that make this month alone?"


    "It wasn''t them this time, I think," Aegon said, shaking his head. "They didn''t leave their iconic masks behind. This time, it was someone else¡­ It was extremely brutal, too."


    Daenerys leaned forward. "What do you mean? Who else would dare attack Golden Company soldiers?"


    "That''s what troubles me," Aegon replied. "Someone who didn''t want credit. Someone who wanted to send a different message."


    "The men weren''t just killed, Your Grace. I¡¯d seen the bodies in person, and even I was surprised. It was as if I was seeing¡­ Robert Baratheon¡¯s battlefield. Their chest plates were caved in as if hit by a warhammer." Ser Barristan interjected, his weathered face grim. "They were... I hesitate to use the word before a queen, but they were butchered. Whoever did this possessed extraordinary strength."


    "Someone strong and skilled enough to kill two Golden Company members without anyone nearby noticing the commotion?" Jorah stopped his pacing, exchanging a meaningful glance with Ser Barristan.


    Tyrion cleared his throat. "If I may... the timing seems rather significant, doesn''t it? A day after a golden dragon appears over Meereen, two soldiers end up dead. Perhaps this is the confirmation we need that the dragon didn¡¯t come alone¡­"


    The room fell silent. Daenerys felt her heart beat faster as understanding dawned. "You think my brother did this?" she asked, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. ¡°He¡­ he¡¯s a weakling, though. Even if he¡¯s got a dragon, how can he gain such strength?¡±


    "It would be consistent with what we know of him now," Jorah said carefully. "The reports from Westeros suggest he possesses... unusual abilities. Some saw him fly."


    "No, those must be exaggerated. Still, he must have abilities that allowed him to crush Stannis¡¯ army and win the Iron Throne," Ser Barristan added. "Your Grace, if Viserys Targaryen is in Meereen¡ª"


    "We have no proof," Aegon cut in sharply. "We can''t move openly against him without evidence."


    ¡°He can fly, though,¡± Tyrion said. ¡°I saw it with my own two eyes. When he was using the alias of Ghost of Rhaegar Targaryen, he carried Sansa Stark through the sky.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me, Lord Tyrion, but I¡¯m unsure those mismatched eyes of yours can be fully trusted,¡± Daenerys said to her advisor. She knew it was rude, but saying it made her feel better. Safer. She didn¡¯t want to admit that her brother had gained magical abilities.


    Tyrion just shrugged. Dany ignored him and studied their faces, sensing an undercurrent she couldn''t quite grasp. Each man seemed to be weighing his words with unusual care, their expressions guarded.


    "Why are you all so cautious?" she demanded. "If my brother is here to harm us, we should prepare accordingly."


    "Your brother isn''t the same man you knew, Khaleesi," Jorah said softly. "The reports describe something different. We can¡¯t be hasty."


    "The King in Westeros defeated dozens of soldiers on his own while saving civilians," Tyrion added. "Dragons aren''t the only weapons in his arsenal, it¡¯s safe to move while assuming that."


    Daenerys felt a headache building behind her temples. The golden dragon, the murdered soldiers, her brother''s possible presence¡ªit was too much to process.


    "...I need a bath," she sighed, rising from her seat. "Perhaps with a clear head, I can make sense of this. Let¡¯s end the meeting here today."


    As if summoned by her words, Missandei stepped forward from the shadows where she had been standing quietly throughout the meeting. "I will prepare it at once, Khaaleesi."


    "I''ll remain outside your chambers," Jorah offered, his hand instinctively moving to his sword hilt. "Just as a precaution."


    Daenerys scoffed. "There''s no need. If my brother wanted to harm me, he would need to sneak past my thousand guards. If he manages to do that, he¡¯s skilled enough that you wouldn¡¯t matter." She softened her tone at the hurt that flashed across Jorah''s face. "Just watch the hallways if you''re so worried. Increase the monitoring on the windows."


    As they filed out, Daenerys caught Aegon watching her with an inscrutable expression. There was something unsettling in his violet eyes¡ªsomething that reminded her of the night the golden dragon had appeared.


    Was her nephew planning something?


    ****


    The bathwater had cooled by the time Daenerys finally emerged from her thoughts. Steam no longer rose from the marble tub, and her fingers had wrinkled like old parchment. She''d spent the better part of an hour submerged, trying to make sense of everything.


    The unnerving presence of a strange dragon over her city. The brutally murdered Golden Company men. Her brother, potentially lurking somewhere in Meereen.


    It all bothered her greatly.


    Her mind kept circling back to Viserys as she''d last seen him¡ªhis face twisted with rage as he held a sword to her belly, threatening her unborn child as he stole one of her dragon eggs. How had that frightened, desperate man transformed into the conqueror of Westeros?


    Then again, his behavior had changed in the middle of it just when my Khal announced he¡¯d give him a molten crown. What happened to him, really? She had no answers.


    Stepping from the tub, Daenerys dismissed the memory with a sigh. The water slid down her skin in rivulets as she reached for a cloth, then decided against it. The night air in Meereen was warm enough to dry naturally.


    She padded across the cool tile floor toward her bedchamber, naked and lost in thought. The quiet click of the door closing behind her barely registered.


    Until a crisp crunch broke the silence.


    Daenerys froze, her eyes snapping up to find a figure sitting casually on her bed. Her forehead went cold, and amid the droplets of water on her body, she felt a sweat crawl down her skin. For a man with silver hair¡ªwearing her brother''s beautiful braid¡ªwas leaning back against her pillows, taking a bite from a red apple as if he belonged there.


    He turned toward her, and a familiar smile spread across his face, though it held an edge she didn''t recognize. Where once she might have seen madness or desperation, now there was only cool confidence. Although that arrogance¡­ she¡¯d never mistake it. It was still there.


    "Oh-ho," he said, his eyes traveling leisurely down her body, eyebrows rising at her curves. "My sister has grown much more beautiful in the time I haven''t seen her¡­? I guess pregnancy does make some women look better." S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Her lungs seized. "Gua¡ª" she began, but before she could finish the cry, Viserys moved with impossible speed.


    He was across the room in a heartbeat, pressing the half-eaten apple against her lips, effectively gagging her. His other hand gripped her shoulder, not painfully but with unmistakable strength.


    "Calm down a little," he said, smiling down at her. "I am only here to meet my dear sister, not to obliterate her little army. Don¡¯t make any mistakes. Do you understand, my little dragon?"


    ¡°....¡±


    Dany bit through the apple hard, her teeth sinking into his finger through it. In response, he just laughed as moonlight bathed the room in beauty.


    **


    **


    **


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 [91] Broken Bonds

    Chapter 91: Broken Bonds


    ¡ª


    Daenerys felt Viserys''s arm wrap firmly around her waist, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. Her nakedness suddenly felt like a vulnerability she couldn''t afford as he carried her to the bed. The pressure of his hand against her mouth made breathing difficult, apple fragments still stuck between her teeth.


    He sat down on her bed, placing her unceremoniously on his lap as if she were still the child he''d once carried across the Narrow Sea. Instinctively, she tried to squirm away, but his grip tightened just enough to prevent escape without causing pain.


    "The night view here is beautiful," he said, gesturing toward the window with his free hand. "Honestly better than King''s Landing. You''d agree if you saw it."


    His casual tone made her stomach twist. Was this the same man who had threatened to cut her baby from her womb? Who had sold her to Khal Drogo like a prized mare?


    "It''s kind of crazy that you never got to see it, beyond your infant days," he continued, voice softening with an odd sentimentality that caught her off guard. "Reminds me of how I took care of you back then... in my arms, feeding you and carrying you around since mother was no longer around."


    Daenerys remained rigid, her heart pounding against her ribs. She could feel droplets of bathwater drying on her skin, the cool night air raising goosebumps across her flesh. Viserys seemed oblivious to her discomfort, lost in memories she barely recalled.


    "Remember that yellow house in Braavos?" His eyes took on a distant quality. "The one with the red door and the lemon tree? You were so small then, always following me around like a little silver shadow. I used to sneak extra bread for you when Ser Willem wasn''t looking."


    His fingers loosened slightly from her mouth. Daenerys remained still, confusion washing over her. Why was he talking like this?


    These gentle memories seemed incompatible with the brother who had pinched and twisted her flesh when angry, who had threatened to "wake the dragon" at the slightest provocation.


    "I taught you to say your first words," he continued, "Mother, father, brother, dragon. Always dragon. Even then, you knew what we were." He chuckled softly. "Even when we had to flee in the middle of the night, when they came for us after Ser Willem died, you didn''t cry. Brave little thing."


    The pressure of the apple against her lips eased, and Daenerys resisted the immediate urge to scream. Something in his reminiscence held her captive more effectively than his physical restraint.


    "We sailed on so many ships after that," he sighed. "I lost count. Sick and starving half the time, but I always made sure you ate first. Remember that merchant in Pentos who took us in before Illyrio? Fat bastard tried to touch you once. I broke his fingers, even though he threw us out after. No one touches a dragon."


    Without warning, he removed the apple entirely, studying her face as if expecting her to call for help. Daenerys swallowed hard, tasting bitter fruit and something like wary curiosity.


    ¡°Do you not remember any of that, sister?¡±


    "...You should have killed me last time," she said finally, ignoring his question, her voice steadier than she expected. "It''s a mistake you didn''t. And you''re going to regret it when I take your throne and rule your kingdom better than you."


    A flash of amusement crossed his face. "When did my sister become such a delusional bitch?" He laughed, his arms loosely circling her waist now. "Well, at least you''re not trying to shout right now."


    "There''s no point," Daenerys replied coolly, acutely aware of her nakedness against his fine clothing. "If you want to kill me, you can before they''d come to the room. Besides, I don''t think you''re here to kill me. You''re a coward. You can''t bring yourself to kill the ''pet'' you raised since childhood."


    His amusement vanished, replaced by something that looked almost like hurt. Daenerys hadn''t expected that reaction, and it unsettled her more than his anger would have.


    "You think I see you as a pet?" he asked, his voice dropping dangerously.


    "Oh, no, you see me worse," she shot back, emboldened by his reaction. "You see me as a bargaining chip. A fancy toy¡­ Someone to give away to a hundred thousand horse riders, saying you''d have them rape me one after the other if it means they''d give you the throne. Do you not remember that?¡±


    He shrugged, spreading his arms wide. "I''ve had my mistakes. I won''t deny that."


    Seizing the opportunity, Daenerys slipped from his lap, putting distance between them as she turned to face him. The cool night air heightened her awareness of her naked body, but she refused to cower or cover herself. Let him see that she was no longer the frightened girl he had bullied and sold.


    "What do you want from me, Viserys?" she demanded.


    "It''s ''big brother,'' did you forget?" he corrected, leaning back on the bed as if he owned it. "I answered that already. I wanted to see my baby sister, so I flew over. I heard your pregnancy was a mess... you must be going through a troubling mental time right now, so I came to console you. Your only family came to console you."


    Heat rushed to her face, anger burning away any remnant of fear. "You''re not my family!" she shouted.


    The words exploded from her with such force that knocking immediately followed from outside her chamber door.


    "Khaleesi?" Jorah''s concerned voice called out.


    Daenerys hesitated, glancing between the door and Viserys. His smug expression challenged her, as if daring her to call for help.


    "...Don''t come in, I''m just throwing a tantrum," she called back, watching Viserys''s lips curl into an approving smile.


    "That was your chance to call for help," he observed.


    "Jorah will simply die if he tries to resist you, from what I heard about your... prowess," she replied, the admission bitter on her tongue.


    "You¡¯re right. That old bastard who''s eyeing my beautiful little sister. I''d take the chance to kill him," he said. "Who''s your family, if not me?"


    The question struck deeper than she wanted to admit. She''d spent so long defining herself in opposition to Viserys¡ªto his cruelty, his weakness, his madness¡ªthat she hadn''t fully confronted their shared blood.


    "...Khal Drogo," she answered, her voice hard as dragonglass. "The man who you sold me to. A real man who gave me a son. The son who I lost because of you."


    He looked incredibly annoyed by her first words, but by the end, confusion crossed his face. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. This is the first time we''ve met in more than a year, sister. What do you mean?" He raised his hands defensively. "I ain''t no baby killer."


    "Not directly," she said bitterly. "You killed him indirectly."


    "Really? I don¡¯t recall."


    Daenerys felt old wounds reopen, bleeding fresh grief into her mind. Dammit. Because of you¡ªbecause you threatened me with a sword and showed the Dothraki how weak their Khal was for letting you escape¡ªanother Dothraki challenged Drogo''s right to lead¡­ You made him look weak in front of his bloodriders, so they challenged him.


    The memories crashed through her like waves against rock: Drogo''s wound festering, the witch Mirri Maz Duur''s betrayal, the stillness of her child''s tiny body.


    Drogo accepted the challenge to prove his strength. He won, but the wound became infected. Her willpower trembled with the effort of containing her rage. I trusted a witch to heal him... she poisoned him instead. When I begged her to save him, she took my son''s life essence. When he was born...


    The thoughts caught in her throat. She couldn''t speak of the scales, the twisted limbs, the tiny wings that would never fly.


    You were the first link in that chain, Viserys, she glared at him. Your cowardice cost me everything I loved.


    "You don''t have to know," she replied, swallowing back the rest. "You''re a piece of shit. The only thing you need to know is that... is that I''ll kill you. No matter what, I''ll kill you."


    Viserys shook his head slowly. "Sounds like you''re just blaming me for the sake of it," he said. "Maybe you¡¯re putting the blame on me for something... you did? I don''t know. I find the hate very wrongful. It pains me, actually. First, you get mad at me for selling you off to the Dothraki, then you blame me for somehow killing that said Dothraki husband of yours? Isn''t that quite contradictory?"


    "Shut up!" she shouted, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.


    Viserys sighed, studying her with a look that said he found her expression uncomfortably familiar. "I see that Father''s madness has swept deeper in you than it did in me. Then again, when he impregnated Mother, he was already mad. His seeds weren''t the best."


    The insult cut through Daenerys like a knife. "Are you insulting my blood now?"


    "I am," he confirmed coldly. "Because you''re being a stupid little bitch right now. Your brother made a mistake, sure, I''ll acknowledge that, and you can hate me for it. I''m fine with that, but you''re blaming me for something I''ve never done. You''re going mad, sister. At this rate, you''ll kill everyone you''ve saved."


    "I''m not you," she growled, every muscle in her body tensed with hatred.


    "I am Viserys Targaryen," he replied, his voice taking on a theatrical formality. "King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Of course, you''re not me, sister. I''m not a failure bitch who trusted a witch and had her husband killed. How the fuck is that my fault, you stupid fucking slut?"


    His words landed like physical blows. Daenerys stood frozen, shock replacing anger. How¡­ how did he know about those things? The vulgarity seemed beneath the regal persona he''d cultivated¡ªa glimpse of the old Viserys breaking through the new fa?ade.


    "Sorry, I wasn''t supposed to curse at you," he groaned, running a hand through his silver hair. "But you have to understand how frustrating you are. I''m trying to reconcile. And you''re trying to kill me for nothing. And did you ever ask why I married you off?"


    "To take the Dothraki army and¡ª"


    "Indeed, you''re mad and easy to manipulate," he cut her off. "How could I, your coward brother, strike a deal with the Dothraki?"


    That gave Daenerys pause. She''d never questioned the arrangement¡ªit was Illyrio who brokered it, and Viserys had agreed. How much of that was Viserys¡¯ own decision? S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I was stupid back then, so I fell for it," Viserys continued. "But you''re saying you''re not stupid, right? Then you''ll figure out the truth on your own. I don''t want to hand-feed you everything. Not anymore. You¡¯re not the cute baby sister I remember anymore. Although your decisions say otherwise, you''re not a child anymore."


    Anger flared again, bright and hot in her chest. "You talk a lot of bullshit for a piece of shit who couldn''t harm a fly without magic. Who did you beg for these powers?"


    "I''d have taken the throne regardless of these powers, sister. I''d just have needed a bit more time and had to be a little more cautious." His voice carried absolute conviction. "I''d admit, these powers allowed me to be reckless and do things without thinking through much since they allowed me incredible protection. But if I didn''t have them? I have the blood of dragons, and I''d have conquered the world regardless. Do you even realize who I am?"


    "Bullshit," she spat.


    He laughed, a sound that reminded her of breaking glass. "You''re the one who would have gotten yourself killed without me. Do you really trust Varys and his people? That bastard Young Griff? You really think our nephew is alive? Are you aware of his connection with Illyrio the Merchant?"


    The sudden shift caught her off guard. "O-of course he is our nephew," she said, her conviction wavering despite herself. "Rhaegal accepted him as a rider. That proves his Targaryen blood¡ª"


    "Blackfyre blood," he cut her off sharply. "You''re really a stupid fucking bitch. You¡¯re destined to die in this world without me."


    The accusation hung in the air between them. Blackfyre. The name of rebellion, of bastard Targaryens who had tried to claim the throne for generations. She knew the Golden Company originally started with them, but¡­


    Viserys stood abruptly. "Whatever. You¡¯ve soured my mood enough, so I''m going to leave now."


    Daenerys scoffed, though uncertainty gnawed at her. "So I was right. You really are so stupid that you won''t take me seriously. You¡¯re still leaving me alive. You''ll regret this, brother."


    That made him grin. "Aw, that''s my little sister. You just called me brother again. How I''ve missed that." He slowly walked over and pinched her cheeks like she was a child. She shoved his hands away, and he just laughed. "As a reward, I''m only going to break one of your arms."


    "...What?"


    Before she could process his words, his hand seized her elbow. With a quick, brutal motion, he slammed it backward.


    Pain exploded through Daenerys''s arm¡ªwhite-hot and all-consuming. She heard a scream tear from her throat, the sound primal and agonizing. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor, cradling her shattered elbow as waves of nausea rolled through her.


    The door burst open, Jorah leading a contingent of Unsullied guards, their spears leveled at Viserys.


    "K-Khaleesi!" Jorah''s voice sounded distant through the haze of pain as he rushed to her side. The Unsullied formed a protective barrier, their weapons pointed at her brother.


    "Ser Jorah," Viserys acknowledged, completely ignoring the spears. "Thank you for taking care of her. Although it pisses me off that you look at her that way, I do admit you''re a fine guard for her who¡¯s done his job right. Take her to a physician. Her arm should get fixed in no time since it''s a clean break. I just wanted to show her how weak she is before me. And I wanted to hurt her a little, she was pissing me off.¡±


    Daenerys clutched her arm, each heartbeat sending fresh pulses of agony through the limb. Through tears of pain, she saw Jorah''s face contort with rage.


    "Viserys!" he shouted. "How dare you?!"


    "It''s Your Grace for you, Ser. Keep your tone in check," her brother replied icily, turning toward the window. "I''ll be around the city, but don''t try to search for me. You can''t. And if someone does manage to catch my scent, I''d just kill them. There''s no point in losing soldiers like that, is there?"


    One of the Unsullied¡ªthankfully not Grey Worm, she realized through her agony¡ªlunged forward with a battle cry. "Stop right there! Haaah!"


    The spear thrust was lightning-fast, but Viserys moved faster. He sidestepped with inhuman grace, his fist striking the Unsullied¡¯s armored stomach with a sickening crunch. Metal buckled inward as his hand punched through, then emerged clutching something dark and glistening.


    The Unsullied collapsed instantly, his spine dangling from Viserys''s bloodied fist.


    Horror silenced the room. Daenerys felt bile rise in her throat as Viserys casually reached for one of her silk robes hanging nearby. He wiped the blood from his hand with deliberate slowness.


    "I let Jorah live, but I won''t tolerate the same disrespect from these mindless baboons," he said to her, examining his now-clean fingers. "I''ll see you later, baby sister."


    With that, he strode to the window and leapt out into the night air, leaving behind a defeated Dany who glared at the ground. Her brother¡­ just what happened to him?


    **


    **


    **

 [92] The Sons of Harpy

    Chapter 92: The Sons of Harpy


    ¡ª


    I leapt from the Mother of Dragon¡¯s chamber windows, wings sprouting from my back to carry me safely to the street below. Landing silently, I retracted them and stepped into the shadows. The satisfying crunch of her arm breaking still echoed in my mind.


    Meereen slumbered under a bruised purple sky. Dawn wasn''t far off, casting the city in that peculiar half-light where night surrenders to morning. The narrow streets remained largely deserted, though a few early risers¡ªbakers, servants, and the occasional drunk staggering home¡ªmoved like wraiths through the gloom.


    I wiped a speck of blood from my hand that I''d missed earlier. The Unsullied''s spine had been surprisingly easy to rip out. These legendary warriors weren''t so legendary when facing someone of my caliber.


    Just how strong was I now?


    The memory of my sister¡¯s face flashed through my mind¡ªher violet eyes wide with pain and shock as I snapped her arm. My little sister. My Dany. The sound of her pain bothered me more than she knew it did.


    "Fuck," I muttered, kicking a stray stone down the empty street.


    A pair of servants scurrying along the opposite side caught sight of me and quickened their pace, heads bowed. ¡°Hah,¡± even strangers could sense the storm brewing inside me.


    I didn¡¯t want to hurt her, but I¡¯d planned so. I''d come to warn her about the Blackfyre pretender at her side, but she had to blame me for everything¡ªeven her oh-so-precious horse-lord''s death. As if I''d orchestrated that from across the Narrow Sea while fighting for my life.


    ¡°Stupid fucking bitch.¡±


    No wonder she died at Jon Snow¡¯s hands in the original timeline.


    As I walked, the red walls of Meereen''s buildings seemed to close in around me. A torch guttered in a nearby alcove, its dying flame reflecting in a puddle at my feet.


    I raised her. I fed her when there was barely enough for me. Only for her to act so high and mighty in my presence.


    The memories surfaced unbidden. Braavos. The house with the red door. Sneaking extra bread to Dany when her little stomach growled. Carrying her on my shoulders through the market. Telling her stories of dragons and our ancestors. Her tiny hand clutching mine as we fled in the night after Ser Willem died.


    I''d been little more than a child myself then. A boy of five trying to care for a toddler. No one had taught me how. Yet I did. For she was my last family.


    And now? Now that frightened boy who once carried his sister across continents had broken her arm without hesitation. For she deserved it. Why did the very last of the Targaryens have to share such a bad relationship?


    I paused at a small square where a fountain bubbled softly. Sitting on its edge, I stared at my reflection in the water. The king who stared back looked troubled.


    "She blames me for everything," I muttered. "I didn¡¯t kill fucking Khal Drogo, but I wish I had." I really did. That fucking barbarian idiot. I wasn¡¯t ¡°myself¡± back then; I lacked these powers, but the memories of my torment at the Dothraki¡¯s hands still were my memory.


    However, it¡¯d be unwise to get swept by emotions now. I knew who was the cause of these incidents, so I had to take care of them myself.


    It was all Varys and Illyrio. Those conniving spiders had manipulated me, used my desperation to further their Blackfyre plot. I''d always suspected Varys wasn''t what he seemed. Back on Earth, theories had circulated about his true identity¡ªa Blackfyre descendant working to restore his line to the throne. That¡¯s why he was always bald, stopping his silver hair from showing.


    And Illyrio. That fat merchant had arranged the marriage to Drogo, not me. He¡¯d proposed the idea to me, baited me to accept it, and the foolish me fell for it. Illyrio Mopatis was most likely Young Griff¡¯s father¡­


    "I was a fool then," I whispered to my reflection. "But she''s the fool now."


    I recalled how gentle she''d once been. The sweet girl who''d braid flowers into her silver hair. The sister who''d crawl into my bed during thunderstorms.


    Those days were gone. Irretrievably lost.


    Was breaking her arm necessary? The question nagged at me. Perhaps I could have shown my strength differently. Yet the snap of her bone beneath my fingers had felt... satisfying. A physical manifestation of our differences. Of how weak she was without me.


    She needed to understand that she couldn''t match me¡ªthat her dreams of taking my throne were childish fantasies. "She had to learn," I decided aloud, pushing off from the fountain.


    My footsteps echoed on the cobblestones as I moved deeper into the sleeping city. The sky lightened gradually, and the stars faded like distant memories.


    She called me a coward. Me. The man who''d conquered Westeros. Who''d beaten Stannis Baratheon in single combat. Who commanded a dragon. How foolish was she, truly?


    A dog barked somewhere in the distance, and a window shuttered hastily as I passed. Perhaps it was my Authority stat, but it seemed that my anger caused others to flinch.


    Well, what now? My thoughts had calmed down, but my emotions hadn¡¯t. I needed to unwind, to release this tension building in my chest. Sex had always been my preferred method. But I was a king now¡ªthe most powerful man in the world. Common whores weren¡¯t going to cut it.


    The thought of visiting the area where the old masters once lived appealed to me. Many had been killed during Daenerys'' conquest, leaving widows behind. Proud, highborn women who¡¯d broken down after their husbands¡¯ deaths.


    Of course, the first wife was killed alongside their wives, but the concubines remained.


    I smiled at the thought as the first true rays of sunlight broke over Meereen''s eastern wall. It shouldn¡¯t be too hard to seduce a widow.


    ****


    Dawn crept over Meereen like a thief, stealing darkness inch by inch. I strolled through the eastern quarter where the crumbling mansions stood in faded glory¡ªmonuments to wealth that Daenerys had upended. The streets remained empty save for chirping birds and the occasional servant hurrying on early errands.


    The worn facades of these once-grand homes reminded me of King''s Landing after my conquest. Empty palaces, abandoned by fleeing nobles, their treasures left behind in hasty retreat. I''d walked those halls feeling like a god among ruins.


    The same hollowness lurked under that triumph as it did now¡ªwhat value was power if it broke everything in its grasp? My sister didn¡¯t know how to protect.


    I adjusted the dark wig and covered my silver-white hair. Better to move anonymously for now, especially after the scene at the Great Pyramid. The Unsullied might start searching everywhere, even if I warned them not to.


    A woman''s sharp voice caught my attention as I rounded a corner.


    "¡ªexpect you to show gratitude after all these years! My husband fed you, clothed you. And you repay me like this during my bad times?!"


    I paused, slipping into the shadow of a stone archway. In a small courtyard ahead, a slender woman in faded finery stood before three servants. Her posture was rigid with indignation, and she turned her back to me. She looked attractive even from a distance.


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    "Fed us scraps and beat us for sport," one of the servants replied, an old man with stooped shoulders and defiant eyes. "The Mother of Dragons freed us. We¡¯re not your slaves anymore. We stay or go as we please now."


    "And you still need to eat, don''t you?" the woman snapped, desperation creeping into her voice. "Where will you go? What skills do you have beyond serving?"


    The servants exchanged glances before the youngest¡ªa girl no older than sixteen¡ªspat at the woman''s feet. "We''d rather starve than serve House Ghazeen again."


    They departed without another word, leaving the woman trembling with fury. She watched them leave before muttering a string of curses. "Dragon whore... silver-haired bitch... I hope the Masters of the other cities come and crucify her as she did my love..."


    I couldn''t help but smile at her venom. Here was someone who hated my sister as much as I did at this moment. I stepped from the shadows. "Careful with such words. If the Mother of Dragons hears them, you''ll find yourself joining those crucified Masters."


    The woman whirled, hand flying to her throat. Now I could see her properly¡ªolive skin, amber eyes, and dark hair streaked with premature silver at the temples. Beautiful once, before hardship had carved lines at the corners of her mouth and between her brows. Although I guessed a shower would return her beauty easily.


    "W-Who are you to sneak up on a noblewoman?" she demanded, lifting her chin. Her Ghiscari accent thickened her Common Tongue, but her diction was precise¡ªeducated.


    "A passing stranger," I replied, approaching slowly. "One who finds himself intrigued by such passionate hatred in the early morning hours."


    She assessed me with narrowed eyes. "A well-dressed stranger. Too clean for a sellsword, too arrogant for a merchant."


    "Heh. Perhaps I''m a knight."


    "From Westeros?" Her gaze sharpened with interest. "Have you news of the false dragon who sits their throne? The brother of our... queen." She spat the last word.


    I smiled, a sharp thing with too many teeth. "I''ve heard he''s a fearsome conqueror. Nothing like the weak exile he once was. Defeated King Joffrey, and took his Mother Queen on his bed."


    "Fearsome?" She scoffed. "Another mad Targaryen, no doubt. Their line breeds madness like rats breed disease."


    The insult made me amused rather than angry. I stepped closer, my smile hardening. "And what are you now, my lady? A noble with no servants, a master with no slaves. Your world has crumbled around you, yet you stand in its ruins, cursing the one who brought the stones down."


    "You''re in a foul mood for so early in the day," she observed, refusing to retreat despite my advance. "Did someone cut off your cock in the night, or were you born this bitter?"


    I laughed, a little surprised by her fire. "You¡¯re a fiery one, Lady...?"


    "Nahreen. Lady Nahreen zo Ghazeen." She straightened her faded silk dress. "And you haven''t answered my question."


    "Let''s say I''ve had a... disappointing family reunion." Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Ah." Understanding flickered in her eyes. "Family. The sharpest knives are always wielded by those who share our blood. I suppose I can relate to that¡­ after my coward oldest son fled, leaving me alone in this ruined city. He should have died with his father."


    I stepped closer, drawn to the defiance in her posture. Here was no cowering servant or simpering courtier, but a woman who''d lost everything and still wore her pride like armor.


    "You''re not afraid of me reporting to the Queen?" I asked.


    "Should I be?" She arched a brow. "I''ve watched my husband flayed alive. I''ve seen my youngest son''s head displayed on a pike. What more can any man do to me?"


    "Many things," I murmured, reaching out to touch a strand of her dark hair. "Some might even be pleasant."


    Her breath caught, but she didn''t pull away. That had taken her off guard, and she observed me properly for the first time, eyes going over my muscles. "You presume much, Ser."


    "And you pretend disinterest poorly." I traced a finger along her jawline. "Shall we continue this conversation somewhere more private? Your home, perhaps?"


    Her lips curved into a bitter smile. "What remains of it. The Dragon Queen''s freedmen have stripped it of nearly everything valuable."


    "Then let me see what they left behind," I said. ¡°If they left behind such a beautiful woman, they at least know to appreciate art.¡±


    That made her scoff out a giggle, pausing for a moment as she made a decision. A moment later, she led me through a side entrance into what had once been a grand home.


    The entryway still boasted marble floors, though several tiles were cracked or missing. Dusty outlines on the walls marked where paintings or tapestries had hung. A few pieces of heavy furniture remained¡ªtoo cumbersome for looters to carry, I supposed.


    Nahreen moved with practiced grace through the echoing rooms. "I had thirty servants once," she said, her voice hollow. "Now I have ghosts for company."


    "And me," I added, catching her wrist as we entered what must have been a sitting room. "And soon you¡¯ll be begging for a son, too."


    She turned, amber eyes flashing. "You talk a lot for a nameless man. What exactly do you want from me, ser knight? I have no gold, no influence. Nothing to offer a man like you."


    I pulled her against me, one hand sliding down to grasp her waist. It was a slender thing, soft yet firm, as I felt my fingers dig in. "I think we both know that''s not true."


    Her fingers splayed against my chest, neither pushing away nor drawing closer. "Is this how Westerosi knights behave? Taking what they want from women they''ve just met? Poor widows, grieving over her husband¡¯s death?"


    "I''m taking nothing," I said, my lips brushing her ear. "You''re giving. There''s a massive difference. You can pull away, and I¡¯ll walk out. But¡­ I don¡¯t think you¡¯re going to do that, are you? You brought me to your home to get fucked all morning."


    Her body trembled against mine. "You''re very sure of yourself."


    "With good reason." My hand slid lower, gripping her thighs through the thin silk of her dress. "Tell me to stop, and I will."


    Instead of answering, she bit her lip, eyes darkening as my hand traveled higher. I backed her against the wall, pinning her with my body as my mouth claimed hers. She tasted of wine and bitterness, her kiss hungry and desperate.


    I tore at her dress, the worn silk giving way easily under my hands. She gasped as cool air hit her exposed skin but made no move to cover herself. Her nails raked down my back, demanding rather than pleading.


    "The bedroom," she breathed against my mouth. "Upstairs."


    I didn''t answer, just lifted her in one fluid motion and carried her up the marble staircase.


    ¡­..


    A few hours later, I lay on her bed, staring at the painted ceiling while she curled against my side, one slender leg draped over mine. Nahreen traced idle patterns on my chest, attempting conversations that I had no interest in. My thoughts had already turned back to the city, to Daenerys, to the pretender at her side.


    "You''re not listening to me," she murmured, propping herself up on one elbow.


    "No," I admitted without remorse.


    She studied my face. "You''re a strange man. Most want to boast after bedding a woman. You seem... elsewhere. Tell me about your hair. Why were you hiding it with a wig?"


    I wonder if she suspects my identity already. There aren¡¯t many famous blonde Knights in Westeros. Not with family members in Meereen. I chuckled.


    I was about to reply when the bedroom door swung open. My brows tightened. Six figures entered, their faces hidden behind grotesque golden masks shaped like harpies. Nahreen stiffened beside me, her body going rigid with fear. That means she¡¯s not involved. Good. I don¡¯t want to kill someone I just slept with.


    "Viserys Targaryen," the foremost Harpy said, his voice muffled behind the mask. "It''s good to see you relax. I believe we can work together. Let''s talk."


    So they''d known who I was all along. The wig hadn''t fooled them. Interesting.


    I sighed, leaning back against the pillows. Rather than answer them, I turned to Nahreen, cupped her face in my hand, and kissed her deeply. She responded automatically, though confusion and shock radiated from her body.


    The Sons of the Harpy stood silently, waiting as I ignored them. Power wasn''t just about strength¡ªit was about making others wait while you did exactly as you pleased.


    When I was done, I turned to face them. Now, what do I do with these bastards?


    **


    **


    **

 [93] Meereenese Problems

    Chapter 93: Meereenese Problems


    ¡ª


    Once I was done kissing my Meereenese widow, I looked at the six masked men crowding the doorway, their harpy masks gleaming dully in the bedroom''s dim light.


    My arm remained casually draped around Nahreen''s shoulder, fingers tracing her curves beneath the sheet she''d hastily pulled over herself. Her body trembled against mine, eyes wide with fear as she stared at the intruders.


    "Well?" I prompted, not bothering to cover myself. "You''ve interrupted something pleasant. Speak."


    The masked figures exchanged glances, shifting uncomfortably. The leader, distinguished by red threading on his mask, cleared his throat.


    "Let''s move to a different place. This place..." he glanced disparagingly around the room, at the rumpled sheets and discarded clothing, "smells."


    I laughed, low and dangerous. "No. If you don''t want to talk, then leave."


    Nahreen pressed closer to me, her fingernails digging into my arm. I could feel her heart pounding against my side.


    One of the other Harpies stepped forward, his voice higher and more insistent. "You have the wrong idea, foreign bastard. It¡¯s not a request, we¡ª"


    My hand moved before he finished the sentence. The dagger appeared between my fingers as if conjured from thin air¡ªa trick of my Inventory¡ªand sailed across the room with deadly precision. It struck the speaker''s throat with a wet thud, embedding itself to the hilt.


    Blood sprayed in an arc as he collapsed, hands clutching uselessly at the blade. Gurgling sounds escaped his mask as he thrashed once, twice, and went still.


    ¡°Hak¨C!¡± Nahreen''s gasp was sharp beside me, her body curling inward as if trying to disappear into the sheets. The remaining Harpies flinched, then two lunged forward, weapons appearing from beneath their robes.


    "Stop, all of you!" their leader barked, throwing out an arm to halt them. The attackers froze mid-step, their tension palpable even through their masks. The leader nodded slowly, his posture stiffening as he turned back to me.


    "Forgive the... misunderstanding," he said, stepping over his fallen comrade without a second glance. "We came to propose an alliance, King Viserys."


    I arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"


    "The Dragon Queen is no friend to Meereen," he continued, encouraged by my response. "Her... reforms have brought only chaos. The old families suffer while former slaves riot in the streets. Trade falters. Order crumbles. We know your relationship isn¡¯t the best, so we¡¯re here to offer an alliance."


    I gestured for him to continue, my expression one of cold amusement.


    "We have networks throughout the city. Resources. Information. We can help destabilize her rule, create opportunities for... a different approach. I¡¯m sure you know what I¡¯m trying to say." His voice lowered conspiratorially. "The spoils of her failure would be substantial. And who better to claim them than her own blood?"


    Throughout his pitch, Nahreen remained silent beside me, her eyes darting between the masks and my face. When I shifted to sit up straighter, she clutched the blanket to her chest, her knuckles white.


    "Interesting proposition," I said finally. "Give me a moment."


    I rose from the bed, unconcerned with my nakedness, and walked to a wardrobe in the corner. Opening it, I saw fine men''s clothing¡ªthe remnants of her husband''s wardrobe. I selected a midnight-blue robe embroidered with silver thread.


    "Your husband had good taste," I remarked to Nahreen as I slipped it on.


    She swallowed visibly. "H-he imported the fabric from Qarth," she whispered, her voice barely audible.


    The Sons of the Harpy watched silently as I cinched the robe and turned back to face them, my bare feet silent on the marble floor. "You''ve made your case eloquently," I said, approaching them. "And I''ve reached my decision."


    Without warning, I struck. My fist crushed through the nearest Harpy''s mask and the face beneath it in one fluid motion.


    Before his body hit the floor, I''d already moved to the next, ripping his head clean off with a savage twist. The third managed a strangled cry before my elbow caved in his chest. The fourth tried to flee but made it only two steps before I caught him, snapping his spine with an audible crack.


    It took perhaps three seconds.


    Blood spattered across the walls and pooled on the marble floor. Nahreen''s scream died in her throat as she pressed herself against the headboard, blanket clutched to her face, eyes wide with horror above it.


    Only the leader and one other remained, both frozen in place.


    "You," I pointed to the subordinate, "can leave. Tell whoever sent you that I will tolerate no further interference in my affairs. You can continue your plans against my sister; I won¡¯t meddle, but do not try to wind me into your numbers."


    The man stood paralyzed with fear.


    "Go!" I barked, and he scrambled backward through the door, nearly tripping over the bodies of his comrades.


    I turned to the leader, who hadn''t moved. ¡°In another life, don¡¯t disturb a King during his relaxation hours,¡± I said, and with a casual gesture, I broke his neck, letting his body collapse atop the others.


    [You¡¯ve killed a human - Sons of Harpy x 5.]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points.]


    Sadly, not enough to level up. Blood coated my hands and speckled the borrowed robe. I walked to a basin of water on a nearby table and began methodically washing the gore from my skin.


    "I apologize for the mess," I said, glancing at Nahreen.


    She stared back, her complexion ashen. Her breath came in quick, shallow pants. "N-no, you don¡¯t have to apologize. F-forgive me, Your Grace..." she stammered once she found her voice. "I wasn''t aware of your status..."


    I shot her an irritated look. "Oh, drop the formalities. You were biting my shoulder a moment ago. I don''t like the change."


    She stared at me for a long moment before her shoulders visibly relaxed, though her eyes remained fixed on the carnage littering her bedroom floor.


    "That was fucking scary, you know?" she whispered. ¡°You should have started your pitch with your identity, I¡¯d have been glad to bed a King.¡±


    I couldn''t help but laugh at the immediate change in her attitude. She also cursed like a wanton whore. The noble lady¡¯s proper fa?ade had cracked so thoroughly in the space of a morning.


    ****


    Daenerys shifted on the ebony bench that served as her throne, trying to find a position that didn''t send fresh waves of agony through her splinted arm.


    The midday heat turned the Great Pyramid''s audience chamber into a sweltering cage. Sweat beaded along her spine, making the silks of her Meereenese tokar cling uncomfortably to her skin.


    "The fighting pits have been part of Meereen since the city was built, Your Grace," Hizdahr zo Loraq continued, his thin face earnest beneath his elaborately oiled hair. "They are to us what the sept is to your Westeros¡ªsacred tradition. Please¡­"


    Daenerys clenched her jaw. This was the third time in as many days that Hizdahr had appeared before her with the same request. Each time, his arguments grew more intricate, his reasoning more impassioned.


    "Sacred?" she repeated. "Men slaughtering each other for sport is sacred?"


    Hizdahr spread his hands in supplication. "To deny the people their traditions is to deny their identity. Already, whispers spread through the lower city. They say the foreign queen scorns their customs, mocks their beliefs."


    "They say this while sleeping in beds that aren''t chains," Daenerys snapped. "While breathing air that isn''t fouled by a master''s whip."


    The pain in her arm flared, hot and insistent. It made her anger more fiery, which only made her more irritated at Viserys, whose face flashed through her mind¡ªthat strange, cold confidence as he''d snapped her bone like dry kindling. Her brother had been cruel before, but there had been a desperate edge to his cruelty. This new Viserys was something entirely different.


    "Your Grace," Tyrion''s voice floated up from below her. The dwarf stood a few steps down, his mismatched eyes thoughtful. "If I may?"


    She nodded stiffly.


    "The noble Hizdahr isn''t wrong," Tyrion said, stroking his stubbled chin. "Think about it. Lasting change requires compromise. The fighting pits could be reopened under new rules¡ªno slaves, only free men who choose to fight. It would show respect for Meereenese customs while maintaining your principles."


    "You support this barbarism?" She regretted the sharpness in her tone as soon as the words left her mouth.


    Tyrion didn''t flinch. "I support stability, Your Grace. The fighting pits bring trade. Trade brings wealth. Wealth brings peace. Peace brings opportunity for the reforms you truly care about."


    Ser Jorah cleared his throat. "The Imp speaks sense, Khaleesi. Your hold on Meereen remains precarious."


    Even Missandei, usually so reserved, nodded slightly. "The people would see it as a gesture of respect, Your Grace."


    Daenerys looked from one advisor to the next, finding the same counsel in each face. Only two days ago, she might have held firm against them all. But Viserys''s appearance had changed everything. She needed allies in this city, and quickly.


    She exhaled, rubbing her temple with her hand. Finally, she said, "I wish to discuss this matter with my nephew. I also have some other important matters to discuss with him. Has he not responded to my call yet?"


    "No, Khaleesi," Missandei answered, her eyes reflecting concern.


    Daenerys frowned. "Odd. He''s never this late." Her gaze swept the chamber, suddenly noticing another absence. "And Varys isn''t here today either." S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A cold prickle of unease crawled up her spine. First, Viserys appeared with impossible strength and a dragon, then broke her arm and vanished. Now, both Aegon and Varys were missing. These couldn''t be coincidences.


    "Do you want me to visit his quarters, Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked, his weathered hand resting on his sword hilt. ¡°I¡¯ll bring him here.¡±


    Daenerys considered the question. Aegon was a grown man, not a child to be checked upon. But with Viserys in the city... "Yes," she decided. "Please do, Ser Barristan. And¡­ bring Grey Worm and a squad with you.¡±


    She had a bad feeling about this. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to be careful.


    The old knight bowed and departed, his white cloak whispering across the stone floor.


    She turned her attention back to Hizdahr, who stood patient and hopeful. An idea formed in her mind¡ªone that would stabilize her position in Meereen while simultaneously sending a message to her brother.


    "You," she said, focusing on Hizdahr. "If the decision to hold the games is finalized... I have another plan to follow suit." She paused, letting the tension build. "I shall marry you. That should help strengthen my hold in the city by marrying a Meereenese man."


    Hizdahr''s jaw slackened, his carefully constructed poise crumbling into naked shock. He opened and closed his mouth twice before stammering, "Y-Your Grace... I am... overwhelmed by such an honor."


    ¡°As you should be,¡± Daenerys allowed herself a small, satisfied smirk. The political advantages were clear¡ªbut she couldn''t deny the smaller, pettier pleasure in imagining Viserys''s face when he learned she''d wed a Meereenese noble.


    Her brother had once sold her to a Dothraki Khal, but now she would choose her own husband from among men he considered beneath him.


    "I would be a good husband to you, Your Grace," Hizdahr continued, recovering his composure. "My family has ruled Meereen for generations. I know its customs, its people¡ª"


    "We will discuss the details later," she interrupted, suddenly weary. The throbbing in her arm had spread to her shoulder, making it difficult to think clearly. "For now, you may go."


    As Hizdahr bowed and backed away, Tyrion approached the throne. "A bold move, Your Grace," he said quietly. "Though I wonder if a hasty marriage is wise, given recent... developments. What if that maddens your brother?"


    "My brother broke my arm yesterday; that means he¡¯s mad enough," she replied, keeping her voice low. "He also killed an Unsullied with his bare hands and claims my nephew is a Blackfyre pretender. I need stronger roots in this city, and I need them now."


    Tyrion''s eyes widened slightly at her bluntness. "As you say, Your Grace. Though if I may suggest¡ªperhaps we should investigate these claims about Young Griff before proceeding too far with either the marriage or the fighting pits?"


    Daenerys frowned. "You think Viserys might be telling the truth?"


    "I think," Tyrion said carefully, "that in my experience, the most dangerous lies always contain a seed of truth. Well, we¡¯ll learn about it soon anyhow when Ser Barristan returns."


    **


    **


    **


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 [94] The Greatest Knight

    Chapter 94: The Greatest Knight


    ¡ª


    Ser Barristan and Grey Worm both realized something was wrong when they reached Aegon''s living quarters. The door hung ajar, swinging slightly in the hot Meereenese breeze. Inside, drawers were emptied, clothes scattered, and personal effects missing. Barristan''s hand instinctively moved to his sword hilt.


    "Search the other rooms," he ordered the six Unsullied who accompanied them. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Grey Worm moved with silent efficiency, directing his men with hand signals. Barristan paced the main chamber, examining the scattered evidence of hasty departure. A discarded blue hair dye bottle lay tipped on its side, staining the stone floor.


    "Nothing, Ser Barristan," Grey Worm reported, his Common Tongue stilted but clear. "He gone."


    Barristan swore under his breath. "The Golden Company commanders?"


    "We will check," Grey Worm replied.


    They marched to the section of the pyramid reserved for the sellsword officers. Most of the rank-and-file remained in their quarters, looking confused and directionless ¨C but Harry Strickland, Jon Connington, and the other commanders were nowhere to be found.


    "The dragon," Barristan said suddenly, his heart sinking. "We must check the dragon."


    The pit where Rhaegal was kept was a short distance from the Great Pyramid. As they approached, Barristan couldn¡¯t hear the familiar sound of a dragon chained within. Barristan''s worst fears were confirmed when they entered the massive chamber.


    Rhaegal''s restraints lay empty and broken on the stone floor.


    "The Queen''s nephew is a snake," Grey Worm said, his face hardening.


    Barristan felt sick. The so-called Aegon Targaryen, fearing a confrontation with Viserion the Gold Dragon atop Rhaegal, had fled Meereen. The boy who claimed to be Rhaegar''s son ¨C a prince Barristan had sworn to protect in what felt like another lifetime ago ¨C was nothing but a pretender?


    Or was he indeed Aegon, and just fled out of fear?


    Perhaps he¡¯s just out for a stroll with Rhaegal¡­? That could also be the case.


    Barristan couldn¡¯t tell. Rage bubbled in his blood, making it hard to think straight.


    "Quick," Barristan said as they exited the dragon pit, Grey Worm and the Unsullied squad walking fast toward the pyramid again. "We need to notify the Queen and then chase whichever direction that boy fled."


    "Doesn''t this," Grey Worm started, hesitating, "Doesn''t this confirm Viserys Targaryen''s claim that this Aegon is a fake?"


    Barristan didn''t answer, fearful of what Daenerys'' reaction would be. The Queen had invested hope in this supposed nephew ¨C another Targaryen to share her burden. This betrayal would crush her, especially coming so soon after her brother''s assault.


    They chose an alleyway to make faster progress back to the Great Pyramid.


    The narrow passage wound between tall buildings, offering shade from the merciless sun but also limiting visibility. Barristan''s instincts, honed by decades of knighthood, prickled with warning.


    "Stop," he commanded, hand flying to his sword hilt. "We''re surrounded."


    All around them, from both exits, Sons of the Harpy appeared, golden masks catching the dim light as they blocked the alley. Each carried curved daggers or short swords, and they outnumbered the Queen''s men three to one.


    "Dammit all," Barristan drew his sword in one fluid motion. The six Unsullied instantly formed a protective formation around Barristan and Grey Worm, spears leveled outward.


    The Sons of Harpy didn¡¯t bother trying to speak. The first harpy rushed forward with a wild cry. An Unsullied spear took him in the throat, but two more followed. The alley erupted into brutal chaos.


    Barristan moved with the speed and precision that had made him legendary. His blade sang through the air, finding gaps in armor and flesh with deadly accuracy. One harpy fell, clutching at his opened belly. Another lost his sword hand before Barristan''s backswing opened his throat.


    Grey Worm fought with efficient brutality beside him, his spear a blur as he impaled a harpy through the chest and kicked the corpse free to engage the next attacker.


    The six Unsullied fought fearlessly. One drove his spear through two attackers with a single thrust, but another found his throat. Another Unsullied wielded his broken spear shaft as a staff, crushing a harpy''s skull before a dagger found his heart.


    One by one, the Unsullied fell, overwhelmed by the sheer number of attackers pouring into the alley.


    "Back to back!" Barristan shouted to Grey Worm as the last Unsullied collapsed.


    They fought on, surrounded by the bodies of fallen men. Barristan''s sword arm grew heavy, his breath coming in short gasps. A shallow cut across his forearm leaked blood, and another slash had torn through his white cloak. Grey Worm bled from a gash on his forehead, but his spear continued to claim lives.


    Barristan cut down a harpy who lunged for him, then barely parried a thrust aimed at his throat. His reactions were slowing. In his prime, none of these men would have touched him, but time was merciless. Age had finally caught up with Ser Barristan the Bold.


    He didn''t see the harpy who circled behind him, spear raised to strike between his shoulder blades.


    "Careful!" Grey Worm yelled, but it was too late.


    Barristan tensed, anticipating the pain of cold steel piercing his heart. Instead, he heard a wet thud and a gurgling cry.


    A gleaming spear had intercepted the attack, its blood-slick tip protruding from the harpy''s chest. Behind the dying man stood an armored figure in burnished red plate adorned with black dragonglass rubies ¨C armor Barristan had not seen in decades.


    "I didn''t want to step in," Viserys Targaryen said, yanking his spear free as the harpy crumpled, "but it irritates me to see mere slaves daring to harm the greatest swordsman the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen."


    ¡°Ah¡­¡±


    ¡°Rest easy, Ser. I¡¯m here.¡±


    What followed defied belief. Viserys moved through the remaining harpies like a dancer among statues. His spear whirled, stabbed, slashed, and pierced with inhuman speed. The red armor gleamed as he pivoted, every movement economical yet devastatingly effective.


    A harpy lunged as Viserys sidestepped and drove his spear through the man''s eye socket. Two more attacked simultaneously ¨C his spear shaft cracked one mask while the point opened the other''s throat. Four charged together ¨C Viserys leapt impossibly high, coming down with his spear driving through one man''s skull before sweeping the others off their feet and dispatching them with precise thrusts.


    Barristan watched in stunned silence.


    The fighting style was unlike anything he''d ever witnessed ¨C no knight or sellsword moved with such deadly grace. Within moments, every harpy lay dead or dying, and Viserys stood among them, not a drop of sweat on his brow.


    ¡°That¡¯s the last of them,¡± he said as the spear vanished from Viserys''s hand as if by magic.


    He approached Barristan, who looked up at him, eyes wide in wonder. For a moment, in that red armor, Barristan could almost believe Rhaegar himself stood before him.


    "Thank you for the help, uh, Prince Viserys," Barristan managed, his voice hoarse. Even so, he remained loyal to the Queen he had given his oath to. So he didn¡¯t refer to him as Your Grace like the rest of Westerosi Knights would have. "I fear we would have fallen without your aid. But¡­ Grey Worm needs medical attention immediately. Will you help him, please?"


    "You need medical help too, Ser," Viserys said, grabbing the unconscious Grey Worm by an arm and dragging him near Ser Barristan. He held the old knight by his arm too and then said, "Don''t move too much, don¡¯t panic."


    Then, to Barristan''s astonishment, wings sprouted from Viserys''s back ¨C great draconic appendages that unfurled like leather sails. So the rumors weren¡¯t a lie.


    With a powerful downward stroke, Viserys launched them skyward, soaring above the buildings toward the Great Pyramid.


    ****


    I soared toward the highest level of the Great Pyramid, wings beating powerfully against the hot Meereen air. The unconscious Grey Worm hung limp in one arm while Ser Barristan, still awake but weakened, clung to my other side.


    The old knight''s eyes were glazed with pain, but he maintained his composure even as we flew hundreds of feet above the city.


    "Almost there," I told him as we approached the massive structure.


    The audience chamber''s large window loomed ahead ¨C perfect for my entrance. With a final powerful stroke, I sent us gliding through the opening and landed in a crouch, careful not to jostle my injured passengers.


    Daenerys sat upon her ebony throne, looking every bit the queen in her white and gold tokar. Her splinted arm was a reminder of our last encounter. Ser Jorah Mormont stood faithfully at her side, and his sword immediately cleared its scabbard when he saw me.


    "Khaleesi!" he shouted, stepping between us.


    Missandei''s hands flew to her mouth, a gasp escaping her lips as she saw Grey Worm''s bloodied form. Even the usually unflappable Tyrion Lannister ¨C so that''s where the little Imp had disappeared to ¨C frowned deeply, his mismatched eyes growing wary at my sudden appearance.


    Unsullied guards rushed out from the corners of the room, surrounding me with spears pointed at my chest. Still crouching with my injured cargo, I found myself the center of a circle of deadly steel.


    "How DARE you hurt my commanders?!" Daenerys shouted, her eyes blazing with fury as she rose from her seat. Her good hand gripped the arm of her throne so tightly her knuckles whitened.


    I shrugged, gently laying Barristan and Grey Worm on the cool stone floor. "Always so quick to judge me, sister," I replied, straightening to my full height as I found myself looming over everyone in the room. The System had granted me great height beside my explosive strength, and I used every bit of that to intimidate the fools around me.


    The old knight coughed weakly, raising a hand to stay the Unsullied spears. "Your Grace," he managed, his voice pained but clear, "Prince Viserys didn''t harm us. He... saved our lives. The Sons of the Harpy ambushed us in the alley. We would have fallen if he hadn''t arrived."


    Daenerys''s expression faltered, confusion replacing rage for a moment.


    "It is a waste that the finest knight alive is serving you, and it''d have been a greater waste for him to die for you," I said, brushing dust from my armor. "So I saved him. I happened to save the Unsullied commander, too. Anyways, don''t waste time arguing with me and take them to the medics. It takes a lot to make an unsullied go unconscious, and this one''s particularly strong. It''s an emergency."


    My sister breathed heavily, clearly struggling with how to respond. Finally, she gestured to her guards. "Take them to my chambers. Summon the healers immediately."


    Four Unsullied carefully lifted their injured commander while two more helped Barristan. As they carried them away, Daenerys turned her attention back to me, eyes narrowed.


    "If you''re expecting gratitude, you''d be disappointed. Leave."


    "A Queen who can¡¯t say thank you for saving the best of her fighters is not so Queen at all. Here I thought you''d at least offer me tea," I shrugged, the wings on my back retracting into thin air. "And no, I''ll be staying for a bit until Ser Barristan receives immediate medical attention. I think he has a fun report to make that you''ll enjoy."


    "¡­." She wanted to argue but just scoffed and turned to Missandei. "Serve him tea with the best poison we have. Make sure it melts his bones."


    "Such a fiery sister I have," I said, amused by her futile venom. I turned my attention to the small man watching our exchange with calculating eyes. "Dany, you''ve been working with dirty Lannisters?"


    "Do not insult my advisor, brother," she snapped.


    I smiled at that. "Fine, since you called me brother, I shall entertain your request." I faced Tyrion fully. "Anyhow, it has been a while, Lord Tyrion. Do you remember me?"


    Tyrion nodded slowly, his expression guarded. "Yes. Who would have thought the eccentric sellsword claiming to be from the Second Sons was actually Viserys Targaryen?"


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t totally a lie. The Second Sons do serve me,¡± I said. Although currently they were in Dorne, cast out of the city and forced to stay in the sands.


    I stared at Tyrion, recalling our brief encounter in King''s Landing, and pondered his fate.


    My thoughts were cut short by Daenerys shouting for me to go drink my tea and die. I laughed and allowed Missandei to lead me from the chamber, leaving my sister fuming on her throne.


    I couldn¡¯t wait for Ser Barristan¡¯s report. I couldn¡¯t wait to see my sister¡¯s stupid face when she realized the truth.


    **


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 [95] Old Friends and New Faces

    Chapter 95: Old Friends and New Faces


    ¡ª


    I sat alone at a small table in the guest chamber, drumming my fingers on the polished wood. The room was pleasant enough ¨C airy and decorated with Meereenese artwork depicting hunting scenes. The windows offered a magnificent view of the city below, though I''d seen better from dragonback.


    The door opened, and Missandei entered, carrying a silver tray with a teapot and cups. She moved with the grace of someone well-trained in service, setting the tray down carefully before me.


    "Here... my lord," she said, her eyes downcast.


    "It''s insulting to refer to a King as a Lord. Even if you serve the ruler of a different nation." I corrected, lifting a cup to my nose and inhaling deeply. And Meereen couldn¡¯t even be counted as a nation. "Hmm... No poison? Your Khaleesi will be mad to hear you defied her orders."


    Surprise flickered across her face. "You can smell poison?¡± she asked, and I shrugged. ¡°...Anyways, I don''t think she wanted me to poison you for real; that''d be silly since she said it out loud. Please excuse me now," she said, turning to leave.


    "I''d love a tea companion," I called after her. She paused, looking back with uncertainty.


    "I am sorry... Your Grace, Khaleesi probably wants me by her side already."


    "Probably? Then you can take the chance. Come on, it''s lonely to wait by myself," I said, gesturing to the chair across from me. ¡°And it¡¯d be rude to reject a King.¡±


    After a moment''s hesitation, she sat down, her posture stiff and formal. I poured tea into the second cup and slid it toward her.


    "Tell me about yourself. Where did my sister find such a fine, intelligent woman to serve her?"


    She blinked at my choice of words, clearly expecting some comment on her beauty instead. "I, uh... I used to serve the people who made the Unsullied. She freed the Unsullied and me from there, and I joined her of my own will."


    "That accent¡­ Naath, correct? Island of butterflies," I said, sipping my tea. "I''ve read about it. Peaceful place until the slavers came. You speak how many languages now?"


    "Nineteen¡­ Your Grace," she answered, her shoulders relaxing slightly. I smiled since she didn¡¯t call me a Lord anymore. "Though some better than others."


    "Impressive. I barely manage five myself. Though I suspect you learned yours under harsher circumstances than I did mine."


    She nodded, taking a small sip of her tea. "The Masters¡­ believed interpreters should understand every curse and threat in every tongue."


    "And yet you maintain such composure," I observed. "Most would be broken by such treatment."


    "Many were," she said simply. "I survived."


    We continued talking, and gradually, her responses grew longer. She also became bold enough to ask me questions, which soon became more direct. She asked about Westeros, King''s Landing, and my conquest of the Iron Throne. I answered honestly, describing the city''s stench and splendor in equal measure.


    "And your wives?" she asked. "News is you married two women."


    "Yes, Lady Margaery Tyrell and Lady Sansa Stark. Both are beautiful and ambitious in their own ways," I replied. "Sansa is sweeter, more earnest. Margaery... she reminds me a bit of you, actually. Clever enough to hide her cleverness when needed."


    Missandei smiled at that, a real smile that reached her eyes. To be compared to a Queen, even if she hadn¡¯t taken the title, must be a great honor. Then her expression grew serious. "Look, I... I''m really grateful to you for saving him. Grey Worm, I mean..."


    "Oh, a lover of Unsullied. As I guessed, you''re really interesting," I said, watching her cheeks darken.


    "The reason I accepted your offer to share tea is because you saved him. And from this talk, I have a better idea of you compared to the rumors. The rumors don¡¯t talk about you this way, Your Grace. So, I want to ask this just in case..." Her eyes met mine. "Do you plan to hurt my Queen? What are you here for, really?"


    My eyes narrowed as I set down my cup.


    The room''s temperature seemed to drop as I fixed her with a cold stare. "You''ve served her for less than a year, my dear. I''ve taken care of her for eighteen years. I''ve bled for her, I''ve gotten beaten for her as I stole one more apple to feed her through the night. It¡¯s insulting you just asked me that. I''ve sold my mother''s crown ¨C the last thing we had of her ¨C so Daenerys could eat for another month. And make no mistake, I myself would have rather starved to death instead¡­ I''ve carried her across the Free Cities on my back when she was too weak to walk. I''ve whispered stories of home to her when nightmares woke her screaming."


    Missandei froze, swallowing visibly as I continued.


    "Who do you think you are to question my intentions toward my sister, the blood of my blood, the last of the Dragons who''d help me return the Targaryen Dynasty to its peak? You, who know nothing of our suffering, our exile, our birthright?"


    She immediately bowed her head, her hands trembling slightly. "F-forgive me, Your Grace. I spoke out of turn. I didn''t mean to... I just..."


    I leaned back in my chair and sighed, shaking my head. "I''ll ignore the disrespect this time since it''s natural to doubt me given my recent actions toward her, and also because I know you''re just worried about her."


    "I..." she took a deep breath, then whispered, "thank you. If I can, I''ll help you reconcile with her. It would make me happy to see the Khaleesi reunite with her family. She¡¯s someone I respect, but I admit that she can be incredibly stubborn at times. I think she''s making a mistake by pushing you away."


    That made me smile. Perhaps my sister had found better companions than I''d initially thought. "Thank you, I might need it.¡± I rose from my seat, ready to face my sister again. ¡°Anyhow, Ser Barristan must have received his treatment by now. Let us go."


    This time, with news I suspected would change everything.


    ****


    Missandei and I walked through the corridors of the Great Pyramid, our footsteps soft against stone walls adorned with ancient carvings. Servants and guards shrank back as we passed, pressing themselves against the walls to avoid my path.


    "Grey Worm''s injuries were severe," Missandei said quietly. "I¡¯m not sure when he¡¯d wake up."


    I nodded, feeling sympathy for her concern. "The Unsullied are strong. He''ll survive."


    We approached Daenerys''s chambers, voices drifting through the partially open door. Missandei hesitated before knocking softly, then pushed the door open without waiting for a response.


    The sickroom smelled of herbs and blood. Grey Worm lay motionless on one bed, his breathing shallow but steady. Missandei immediately moved to his side, her fingers hovering above his bandaged chest.


    Ser Barristan occupied the other bed, propped up against pillows. His face was pale beneath a network of fresh cuts, but his eyes were clear and focused as he spoke.


    Daenerys stood at the foot of his bed, her splinted arm held close to her body. Ser Jorah loomed protectively behind her, while Tyrion perched on a stool nearby, his mismatched eyes watching everything.


    "¡ªcame out of nowhere," Barristan was saying as we entered. "At least twenty of them, wearing those golden masks. They had us surrounded before we could call for help."


    ¡°23, to be exact,¡± I said. All eyes turned to me as I stepped into the chamber. Daenerys''s face hardened, but she said nothing.


    "Ser Barristan," I acknowledged with a respectful nod.


    The old knight returned my nod. "Prince. As I was saying, they had us surrounded in that narrow alley. Grey Worm took down six before they overwhelmed him. I managed to hold my position at his back, but there were too many." He touched a bandage on his forearm. "I was starting to falter when Prince Viserys arrived."


    "How convenient," Jorah muttered.


    I shot him a cold look. "Call it divine intervention if you must, Mormont. I was in the area. I heard the commotion. And yes, my ears pick up a lot more than normal humans.¡±


    "And decided to help?" Tyrion asked, his tone skeptical. "How charitable of you, considering your earlier introduction to your sister."


    "I respect Ser Barristan," I answered simply. "Even when his choice in employers is questionable. And Lord Tyrion, I think you have the wrong idea. I don¡¯t want to ruin Daenerys and her little army. Once she joins me, it''ll be my army, after all."


    Dany glared at me, about to say something, but Barristan coughed and continued. "He saved our lives, Your Grace,¡± he said to Dany. ¡°He cut through those assassins like they were made of parchment. I''ve rarely¡­ no, I¡¯ve never seen such skill in all my years."


    Daenerys frowned. "And then?"


    "I carried them here," I interjected. "Or did you miss my dramatic entrance through your window? Dragons don''t use staircases."


    "Getting back to what matters," Daenerys said sharply, not even sparing me a glance. "What did you discover before the attack? Where is my nephew?"


    The chamber fell silent. Barristan''s weathered face grew grim as he exchanged a look with Grey Worm''s unconscious form.


    "Your Grace," he began slowly, "when we reached Aegon''s quarters... they had been abandoned. There were signs of hasty packing. Most of his possessions were gone."


    Tyrion leaned forward. "...Gone? As in fled?"


    Barristan nodded. "Yes. But that''s not all." He took a deep breath. "I went to the holding area for the dragons. Rhaegal..." He closed his eyes briefly. "The chains were broken. Rhaegal is gone."


    "What?" Daenerys whispered, her face draining of color.


    "He took Rhaegal," Barristan confirmed. "Young Griff¡ªor Aegon, if that''s who he truly is¡ªfreed your dragon and fled with him. We need to question the city guards for a better report, but I¡¯m confident that is what happened. If he¡¯s just taking a stroll with Rhaegal instead, he should have reported to us earlier. And his commanders would still be in the city.¡±


    Daenerys swayed on her feet. "No... that''s impossible. Rhaegal wouldn''t¡ª"


    "Wouldn''t what? Accept a rider with Targaryen blood?" I interjected. ¡°Even if it¡¯s bastard blood, it¡¯s still the blood of dragonriders.¡±


    "Aegon¡­ Aegon is my nephew," she insisted, though her voice trembled. "Why would he betray me?"


    Ser Jorah moved to her side, catching her arm as her knees seemed to give way. "Khaleesi," he murmured, steadying her.


    I couldn''t contain myself any longer. The laughter burst from me, wild and uncontrolled, bouncing off the stone walls of the chamber. Everyone turned to stare as I doubled over, clutching my sides.


    "This is too perfect!" I gasped between peals of laughter. "The Mother of Dragons, betrayed by her own blood! Well, fake blood, that is."


    "Get out!" Daenerys shouted, her face contorted with rage and pain. "Get out now!"


    My laughter died instantly, replaced by a cold fury that swept through me like wildfire. "You useless bitch!" I snarled, stepping toward her. "You lost a dragon, and you dare shout at your brother''s face?!"


    She flinched back, her eyes widening.


    "Only three dragons exist in this world, and you just lost one to a THIEF! Are you out of your mind?!" My voice rose with each word, echoing off the chamber walls.


    Ser Jorah moved to stand between us. "That''s enough¡ª"


    "Step aside, you disgraced knight, before I remove your head from your shoulders," I snapped, not even bothering to look at him. My eyes remained fixed on my sister. "Do you have any idea what you''ve done? Any concept of the power you''ve just handed to an impostor?"


    "I- I trusted him," she shot back, regaining some composure. "He had Targaryen blood! The dragons responded to him!"


    "Blackfyre blood, I just told you," I corrected. "It carries just enough of our lineage to confuse a dragon. And now he has one of the three living weapons of war in the world. Your stupidity is truly impressive, sister."


    Daenerys lifted her chin. "Why do you care?! They''re my dragons anyway, not yours! Besides, aren''t you the same as him?! You stole one of my eggs!"


    "And I awakened it into a greater dragon than yours," I replied coldly. "I''m sure he''ll do the same. He''ll make a stronger dragon out of Rhaegal. Then he''ll come back and take Drogon away too. I don''t think Drogon will even fight back. He knows how weak and pathetic you are, that''s why he fled. He''ll happily accept this fake Aegon as his new master."


    Her face paled further with each word, fury and fear battling in her eyes. With a sudden motion, she grabbed a flower vase from beside Barristan''s bed and hurled it at my head.


    I batted it aside with a casual swipe of my arm, sending it shattering against the wall. Water and petals sprayed across the floor as I fixed her with a withering glare.


    "You''re alone right now, Dany. One of your dragons is flying who knows where, while the other has been stolen. I wonder how long you can hold Meereen. How long until the slaves are chained again? How long until they spit at the name of Mhysa."


    "I''ll find him," she insisted. "I''ll get Rhaegal back. I just-"


    "No, you won''t," I said, moving toward the open window. "You''ll stay here in your little pyramid, playing at being queen while your power slips through your fingers like sand.¡±


    ¡°W-where are you going?¡±


    I burst out laughing once again. ¡°What, are you getting your hopes up? That your strong, reliable brother is going to retrieve your stolen dragon?¡± I locked eyes with her. ¡°Nah. I don¡¯t care. Didn¡¯t you say it''s your dragon? Go find it yourself, bitch. I only care for dragons belonging to House Targaryen.¡±


    She glared at me as I climbed onto the windowsill, looking back at her shocked face one last time. "Remember this moment, sister. Remember who tried to warn you. Remember, what you are without me by your side.¡±


    Dany trembled on her spot, her eyes wet. I ignored the stares of everyone else as I leapt out into the open air, my wings unfurling as I plummeted toward the city below.


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 [96] Stubbornness Brings Suffering

    Chapter 96: Stubbornness Brings Suffering


    ¡ª


    The window stood empty, a cruel rectangle of blue sky where Viserys had disappeared moments before. Daenerys stared at it, her broken arm throbbing in time with her heartbeat.


    The wind stirred the curtains, bringing with it the distant sounds of the city below¡ªa city that had no idea their queen had just lost one of her most powerful weapons. "Your Grace?" Ser Jorah''s voice seemed to come from very far away. "Shall I send riders to track¡ª"


    "Leave me," she whispered, not turning around. When no one moved, she whirled to face them, her voice cracking like a whip. "LEAVE ME!"


    Barristan shifted uncomfortably in his bed. Tyrion''s mismatched eyes studied her with uncomfortable perception. Jorah looked as if he might argue, but something in her face must have stopped him. One by one, they filed out of the chamber. Only Missandei remained, standing quietly near the door.


    "You too," Daenerys said, softer now.


    The translator shook her head. "I''ll stay, Your Grace."


    Daenerys didn''t have the strength to argue. As soon as the door closed behind the others, she stumbled to her own chamber, Missandei following like a shadow. Her legs gave way once inside, and she sank to the edge of her bed.


    "Have the doors guarded," Daenerys commanded. "No one enters without my express permission."


    Missandei nodded and slipped out, returning moments later to find Daenerys staring at her hand¡ªher good hand, the one not mangled by her brother.


    "He was right," Daenerys whispered. "I''ve lost two dragons. Two out of three in the world. While my brother, he¡­ he..."


    "Drogon will return, Your Grace. And Rhaegal¡ª"


    "Rhaegal is gone!" The words tore from her throat, raw and painful. "Gone with a man I believed was my blood. A man I welcomed, trusted!" She drove her fist into the silk bedcover. "And Viserys knew. He knew all along, and I wouldn''t listen."


    Missandei sat beside her cautiously. "Your brother is... different now. Changed. You couldn''t have known what he''d become. It¡¯s understandable you didn¡¯t trust him."


    "No. He''s exactly what he always wanted to be¡ªpowerful. Strong." A bitter laugh escaped her. "And I''m exactly what he always said I was. Weak. Stupid. Useless."


    The tears came then, hot and sudden.


    Daenerys tried to hold them back, but they spilled down her cheeks in streams, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. Missandei reached for her, and Daenerys collapsed against her shoulder, weeping like she hadn''t since she was a child.


    "I''ve lost everything," she gasped between sobs. "My husband. My son. Two dragons. The Iron Throne is farther away than ever."


    "You have not lost everything," Missandei insisted, her voice gentle but firm. "You have Drogon. He flies by every now and then, and you know it. You have your Unsullied. You have your freedmen who love you."


    "For how long? My brother was right about that too. How long before they turn on me? How long before the other cities'' Masters come? I can''t even control my own dragons anymore."


    "Perhaps," Missandei ventured cautiously, "you should consider what your brother said. About working together¡ª" S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "No." Daenerys pulled away, wiping her tears. "He''d never allow it. Not as equals. He''d want me to submit, to kneel. I am a Dragon¡­ as much as he is. Dragons don''t kneel."


    A soft knock interrupted them. Daenerys quickly dried her face with the edge of her sleeve. "Who is it?"


    "The Imp," came Tyrion''s voice. "A moment of your time, Your Grace?"


    Dany felt annoyed at the prospect of talking with someone else, but when she looked at Missandei, she nodded encouragingly. "Enter," she called.


    Tyrion stepped in, closing the door behind him. His eyes took in her reddened face, but he made no comment on it. Instead, he poured himself a cup of wine from the carafe on her table and took a long drink.


    "Your brother has quite the temper," he observed. "Must run in the family."


    "If you''ve come to mock me¡ª"


    "I''ve come to offer counsel," Tyrion corrected. "The kind you may not wish to hear, but need to all the same."


    She regarded him warily. "Speak, then."


    "You lost a dragon, and your other one is in his rebellious phase," he said plainly and without accusation. ¡°The only way to recover from this is to make a move before the world realizes how vulnerable you are. And perhaps..." he hesitated, "make amends with your brother."


    "Never," she spat. "Even if you¡¯re unaware of what he did in the past, you saw how he broke my arm. He insulted me in front of my advisors."


    "Yes, and he saved your Lord Commander and captain from certain death," Tyrion countered. "People are complicated, Your Grace. I should know¡ªmy family wrote the book on complicated."


    Daenerys stood up, pacing the chamber. Her mind raced with possibilities, with fears, with plans. "What else do you suggest other than crawling back to Viserys?"


    Tyrion sighed. "Well, if you don¡¯t want to reconcile with him, then¡­ Strength. Show it immediately. Make decisions that prove you''re still in control. News that Rhaegal is gone will spread throughout the city soon since the Golden Company will slowly leave."


    The Golden Company would leave.


    And they¡¯d be able to do nothing to stop them.


    Something hardened inside her at his words. A resolve, cold and sharp as Valyrian steel.


    "Missandei," she said, turning to face them both. "Send word to Hizdahr zo Loraq. Our marriage will take place as soon as possible. Three days from now."


    Missandei''s eyes widened slightly. "So soon, Your Grace?"


    "Yes. And with it, we will reopen the fighting pits. Let him have his bloody games." Her voice dropped, becoming steelier with each word. "And summon the other captains of the Unsullied, the commanders of the freedmen. Meereen must prepare for war."


    "War?" Tyrion asked carefully. "Against whom?"


    Daenerys looked back at the empty window, where the sky seemed to mock her now. "Against anyone who threatens what is mine. If I cannot trust my own blood, then I will build an empire without them."


    "And Aegon? Young Griff?" Tyrion asked. "What of him?"


    "He is my enemy now," she said, her voice flat and cold. "Just like Viserys. Anyone who steals from me, who betrays me, is my enemy. And I will take back what is mine with fire and blood."


    She turned away from the window, her tears now dried by the heat of her rekindled purpose. "The dragon has three heads, they say. But this dragon stands alone."


    ****


    I lay sprawled across silken sheets, enjoying the warmth of two naked bodies pressed against mine.


    Lady Nahreen zo Ghazeen''s curves had already become familiar to me over the past few days, her olive skin a pleasant contrast to the paler complexion of her cousin Soreah. The younger woman had joined us last night at Nahreen''s suggestion¡ªthough I suspected it was more to keep me interested than any genuine desire to share.


    "More wine, my king?" Nahreen purred, reaching for the crystal decanter. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, tickling my chest as she leaned across me.


    "Not yet," I replied, watching Soreah pluck another grape from the silver bowl. She placed it between my lips with delicate fingers, her eyes never leaving mine.


    I''d met Nahreen during my initial exploration of Meereen, when I''d heard her cursing my sister''s name in that heated exchange with a merchant. Her hatred for the self-styled queen had drawn me to her, and after I''d dispatched those Sons of the Harpy in her bedroom, she''d taken to treating me like some conquering hero. Soreah was different.


    It had been Nahreen¡¯s idea to introduce me to her cousin¡ª"younger, more flexible," she''d whispered in my ear, and yet not bothering to hide the competitive edge in her voice. When I probed her for more, the truth surfaced. It turned out that she owed Soreah a favor, and when she was bragging about the ¡®Westerosi Knight¡¯ in her bedroom, Soreah begged to see him. Only later did she tell her my identity, having received my permission.


    "You should have seen her face when I told her who you were," Nahreen said now, trailing her fingers down my chest. "She didn''t believe me at first."


    "And now?" I asked, turning to Soreah.


    The younger woman blushed. "Now I believe everything," she said, her accent thicker than her cousin''s. "The wings, the strength..."


    "Is that all you believe?" I teased, pulling her closer.


    Nahreen''s face tightened just enough to notice. The jealousy was amusing¡ªas if either of them meant anything more to me than momentary entertainment. Still, I enjoyed the rivalry. Two noble ladies of Meereen competing for my attention while their city slowly crumbled around them.


    "Oh, I believe everything about you, Your Grace¡­¡± she brushed her lips against mine.


    Right then, Nahreen blinked and blurted suddenly, ¡°Oh, by the way, did you hear? Your sister announced her marriage to Hizdahr zo Loraq. Three days from now! Looks like there¡¯s going to be a feast."


    I raised an eyebrow, noticing a frown from Soreah, who seemed annoyed at her cousin''s interruption.


    "She''s also reopening the fighting pits," Soreah added, clearly not wanting to be outdone in providing information. "The wedding will begin after the fighting matches. Everyone''s talking about it. It confuses me why she¡¯s marrying a Meereeneze man, though."


    Why? It¡¯s obvious. I couldn''t help it¡ªlaughter burst from my chest, loud and unrestrained. Both women jumped slightly at the sound.


    "My sweet, stupid little sister," I said, wiping away a tear of mirth. "So predictable."


    "You don''t seem worried," Nahreen observed, her head tilted in curiosity. ¡°I thought you Targaryens cared about keeping the bloodline pure or whatever.¡±


    I sat up, leaning against the ornate headboard. "Why would I be worried? She''s flailing like a drowning rat. No dragon, no real allies, just a city that hates her and a marriage to a man who probably dreams of slitting her throat. And if you think I¡¯d let her husband, whoever it might be, touch her, you couldn¡¯t be more wrong."


    My laughter subsided as I thought about it more.


    Dany had always been stubborn, even as a child. I remembered how she''d refuse to eat certain foods, no matter how hungry she was. How she''d insist on carrying her own small pack when we traveled, even when it made her shoulders ache.


    And now? Now that stubborn streak would be her undoing.


    She could have just asked, I sighed in my head. One simple ''help me, brother'' and I would have dealt with the Sons of the Harpy. I would have helped her keep her dragons in check. I would have taught her what it means to rule.


    Instead, she clung to her pride, her illusions of independence. Even with one arm broken and one dragon gone, she wouldn''t bend. Wouldn''t acknowledge my superiority.


    "Well," I continued, accepting a goblet of wine from Nahreen, "she made her choice. She chose that Meereenese puppet over my protection. She wants to play at being queen over this tiny City rather than ruling Westeros beside me."


    I drained the wine, feeling its warmth spread through me. The thought of Daenerys struggling to maintain control of Meereen while married to a man who represented everything she claimed to stand against... it filled me with a perverse satisfaction.


    "Let her see how far her dragons and slaves take her," I muttered.


    Nahreen stroked my cheek, bringing me back to the present. "You seem angry, my king."


    "Not angry," I corrected, setting down the empty goblet. "Just... disappointed. She''s the last of my blood, and she''s too stupid to save herself."


    "Perhaps after the wedding, when she sees her mistake¡ª" Soreah began.


    "Stop talking about that, ladies," I said firmly, cutting her off. Both women immediately fell silent, their eyes lowering. "Get dressed. I''ll take you two to eat today."


    "To eat?" Nahreen repeated, her voice confused. ¡°But we have food here..."


    "I want to see the city," I explained, already rising from the bed. "I want to see how it prepares for my sister''s grand gesture of surrender. Feel the mood in the streets."


    The women exchanged glances before hurrying to comply.


    They pulled silken robes around their naked forms and disappeared to their respective dressing rooms. I stood by the window, looking out over Meereen''s sprawling landscape, the Great Pyramid dominating the skyline.


    Somewhere in that pyramid, Daenerys was planning her wedding, thinking she''d found a solution to her problems. She had no idea how deeply the rot had set in, how many enemies surrounded her. And I would watch it all unfold, savoring each moment of her downfall until she had no choice but to crawl to me for help.


    The fighting pits would reopen in three days. Then the wedding would take place. And I would be there to witness it all, to watch my sister''s face as she realized too late that she had made the wrong choice.


    Until then, I would enjoy Meereen''s pleasures.


    Its food, its women, its luxuries. I would drink in the city''s beauty and decay in equal measure, knowing that soon enough, chaos would consume it all. And my sister with it.


    ¡°Ah, and by the way,¡± I turned to Soreah who was almost done getting dressed. ¡°Don¡¯t do anything stupid that¡¯ll get you killed.¡±


    Soreah, the spy, flinched in response.


    **


    **


    **


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 [97] The Great Fighting Pits

    Chapter 97: The Great Fighting Pits


    ¡ª


    Hizdahr zo Loraq adjusted the golden collar of his outfit, admiring how the emerald embroidery caught the morning light. The mirror reflected a man of consequence ¨C soon to be more than just a noble of Meereen, but its king in all but name.


    His fingers traced the intricate patterns sewn into the fabric, patterns that had adorned the robes of Meereen''s greatest rulers for centuries. Patterns that would soon be his by right.


    The Dragon Queen had finally bent. Not to fire and blood, but to political necessity. Hizdahr couldn''t suppress the smirk that spread across his face. After all those meetings, all those careful suggestions and orchestrated pressures, she had agreed to marry him.


    And she doesn''t suspect a thing.


    He reached for the oils on his dressing table, dabbing scent behind his ears. The perfume of Qarth ¨C expensive, exotic, and impossible to obtain since the Dragon Queen''s little tantrum in that city. Yet he had his ways. He always had his ways.


    "Once we are wed," he murmured to his reflection, "she''ll learn how Meereen truly functions."


    The foreign queen with her foreign ideas would soon find herself isolated. The Unsullied were formidable, yes, but they didn''t understand politics. They didn''t understand Meereen. She had freed the slaves but failed to grasp that power in Slaver''s Bay wasn''t built on freedom.


    His father had died when the queen took the city. A tragedy, certainly. But now Hizdahr would restore everything ¨C and more. Not just Meereen would be his, but all of Slaver''s Bay.


    The Sons of the Harpy, although an annoyance, indirectly benefited him.


    I''ll have to eradicate them after coming to power. Otherwise they''ll pose a danger to me, too.


    He slid a golden ring onto his finger ¨C his father''s ring, the symbol of their house. How strange that after such devastating losses, fortune had turned in his favor so dramatically.


    The queen needed a Meereenese husband to placate the city. She needed him.


    ¡°Hehe¡­¡± he couldn''t help a chuckle. And after today''s spectacle, after our marriage is sealed before the old gods and new, I''ll show her what it truly means to wake the dragon.


    Hizdahr straightened his outfit one final time, the silk whispering against his skin. The fighting pits awaited. His future queen awaited.


    With a satisfied nod to his reflection, he turned and left the chamber, his steps measured and confident as he made his way toward Daznak''s Pit.


    **** sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Daenerys sat rigidly on the raised dais, the hot Meereenese sun beating down mercilessly upon her as cheers erupted around the fighting pit.


    Her splintered arm rested uncomfortably at her side, a constant reminder of Viserys''s cruelty. Beside her, Hizdahr zo Loraq¡ªher husband in mere hours¡ªleaned forward eagerly, his eyes fixed on the bloodshed below.


    Two former slaves circled each other on the blood-soaked sand, their bodies glistening with sweat, muscles tensed as they searched for openings in each other''s defenses. The larger man lunged, his sword glinting in the sunlight. The smaller fighter spun away, his movements fluid and precise.


    "You see how he moves?" Hizdahr gestured excitedly. "That''s Oznak vo Hazz''s former slave. Trained in the Braavosi water dance¡ªquite rare in these parts."


    Daenerys kept her face carefully neutral. "Does he have a name, or just his former master''s?"


    "Well, I¡ª" Hizdahr faltered, then recovered. "They call him the Storm. Though I don''t recall his birth name."


    "How convenient," she murmured.


    Hizdahr shifted uncomfortably. "My queen, you must understand¡ªthese men fight for glory now, not because they''re forced. They''ve chosen this path."


    "Have they?" Daenerys turned cold eyes on him. "Or have they simply exchanged one form of slavery for another? Tell me, husband, what other skills were they taught besides killing?"


    Before Hizdahr could answer, Ser Barristan leaned down slightly from his position behind her. "The small one knows what he''s doing. See how he keeps his enemy moving? Tiring him out."


    "I''ve seen better footwork from Dothraki children," Ser Jorah added dryly, drawing a rare smile from Daenerys.


    Hizdahr frowned at the interruption. "The larger fighter is Grazdan mo Ullhor''s champion. He¡¯s going to win. Three years undefeated in the lesser pits."


    "Until today," Ser Barristan predicted confidently.


    "You''re quite certain," Hizdahr said. "Care to wager on it?"


    "I''ve never needed gold to know when a man is outmatched," Barristan replied.


    Below, the crowd roared as the smaller fighter drew first blood, a quick slash across his opponent''s thigh. Daenerys tried not to flinch at the sight of the crimson spray.


    "Marvelous, isn''t it?" Hizdahr leaned in close, eyes glinting with excitement as the fighters clashed again, steel ringing against steel. The crowd screamed, their faces twisted in primal pleasure.


    "Barbaric," Daenerys responded sharply, her voice strained.


    Tyrion, seated a short distance away, met her eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the spectacle just like her. He raised his cup in a mock toast, his expression sympathetic. Missandei stood nearby, her face carefully composed, though Daenerys could see the tension in her shoulders.


    "My queen," Hizdahr persisted, "these games bond the people. They unite former masters and former slaves alike in a shared spectacle. For centuries, the fighting pits have been¡ª"


    "Spare me the history lesson, Hizdahr," Daenerys cut him off. "I''ve read enough of Meereen''s bloody past to last a lifetime."


    Hizdahr sighed. "This marriage was meant to bring peace. How can we achieve that if you dismiss our traditions so easily?"


    "What do you mean ¡®dismiss¡¯? I am allowing this fight, am I not?" she replied, watching as the smaller fighter executed a complex maneuver, narrowly avoiding his opponent''s blade. ¡°But peace through bloodshed seems a strange concept. ¡±


    "Yet you conquered this city through bloodshed," Hizdahr observed quietly.


    Daenerys felt heat rise to her cheeks. "...To end slavery, not to watch men slaughter each other for entertainment."


    "The fighting pits have always been sacred to¡ª"


    "Sacred?" she scoffed. "There''s nothing sacred about death for sport."


    Ser Jorah spoke without taking his eyes off the fighters. "The smaller one is about to win. He''s drawing the big one in."


    "Nonsense," Hizdahr protested. "Grazdan''s man has the reach and the strength. Look at those arms!"


    "Strength means little against speed," Ser Barristan commented. "Watch."


    As if on cue, the smaller fighter feinted left, then spun right with astonishing speed. His blade found the gap beneath the larger man''s arm. The crowd gasped collectively as the champion staggered, blood pouring from the wound. The smaller man darted back, waiting.


    "Finish him!" someone in the crowd shouted. Others took up the call, a rhythmic chant that made Daenerys''s stomach turn.


    "You see?" Hizdahr gestured enthusiastically. "This is what they live for. The moment when life and death hang in the balance. When the gods themselves seem to watch and decide."


    "I see men turning death into a game," Daenerys replied coldly. "I see a city that hasn''t learned the value of life."


    Hizdahr opened his mouth to respond, but something in the air changed. A whisper of unease spread through the arena like ripples in water. Daenerys turned sharply, scanning the stands. Gold masks glinted ominously, scattered amidst the crowd.


    Sons of the Harpy.


    "Protect the Queen!" Ser Barristan barked sharply, drawing his sword with a smooth, practiced motion. Jorah instantly mirrored him, forming a barrier around Daenerys. Hizdahr froze, eyes wide in shock as the arena erupted in chaos.


    "What is happening?" Hizdahr sputtered, rising to his feet. "Guards! Where are the¡ª"


    A golden mask appeared behind him, a curved blade flashing in the sunlight. Before Daenerys could cry out a warning, the dagger plunged into Hizdahr''s back. Her soon-to-be husband''s eyes widened in shock, his mouth forming a perfect "O" of surprise as he crumpled to the ground.


    The Sons of the Harpy surged forth, their curved daggers flashing murderously.


    Unsullied warriors rushed to meet them, spears clashing, but the Harpies were numerous and ruthless. Blood painted the sand as warriors and rebels fell alike.


    "Come, Khaleesi!" Jorah urged, grabbing Daenerys''s good arm. She stumbled to her feet, heart pounding in her chest, eyes wide at the carnage unfolding around her. Missandei cried out as a Harpy grabbed her hair, yanking her backward.


    "Missandei!" Daenerys reached for her friend, but Barristan pulled her away.


    "Grey Worm!" Barristan shouted. The Unsullied commander appeared, still weak from his previous injuries but moving with determination. He drove his spear through the Harpy attacking Missandei, but not before the masked assassin''s blade opened a deep gash across her shoulder.


    "This way!" Barristan shouted, cutting down a Harpy who lunged from the stands.


    Daenerys felt numb as she was pulled along between the two knights, screams and steel ringing in her ears. She saw Tyrion duck beneath a bench, narrowly avoiding a dagger thrust, and scramble to stay alive amid the madness.


    A moment later, a Harpy caught him across the cheek with a glancing blow, blood streaming down his face.


    "They''re everywhere!" Daenerys gasped, the enormity of the betrayal crushing her. "Hizdahr! He¡¯s dead¡ª"


    "Forget him!" Barristan shouted back fiercely. "We must get you to safety!"


    A Harpy leaped from above, landing on Ser Barristan''s shoulders. The old knight staggered but kept his footing, reaching back to grasp his attacker. The Harpy''s dagger found Barristan''s side, slipping between the plates of his armor. Barristan roared in pain but managed to throw the assassin off, dispatching him with a quick thrust.


    "Ser Barristan!" Daenerys cried, seeing the blood blooming across his white cloak.


    "It''s nothing, Your Grace," he gritted out, though his face had gone pale.


    Jorah fought like a man possessed, his sword carving through the attackers, but even he couldn''t hold them all back. A dagger caught him across the forearm, opening a deep gash. He barely seemed to notice, pushing Daenerys behind him as more Harpies approached.


    But there was no safety to be found¡ªthe Harpies surrounded them on all sides, blocking every exit. How were there so many Harpies?! Unsullied bodies lay crumpled around them, the strength of her loyal warriors faltering beneath the relentless assault.


    Daenerys closed her eyes briefly, knowing her end was near.


    Then¡ª


    ¡ª Roarghh!


    A roar split the air, primal and deafening, shaking the very foundations of the arena.


    "...Drogon," she whispered, hope surging through her veins.


    The black dragon appeared in a storm of fire and fury, descending from the heavens with wings outstretched and scales shimmering with power. Flames erupted from his jaws, searing the Sons of the Harpy to death and scattering them like frightened vermin.


    Perhaps all hope was not lost!


    Screams of terror replaced those of triumph as Drogon landed heavily, the earth trembling beneath his massive form.


    For a moment, Daenerys felt relief wash over her. Drogon had come to her in her time of need. Her child remembered her, he was here to protect her. But the feeling didn''t last.


    A brave¡ªor foolish¡ªHarpy charged forward, a long spear clutched in his hands. Before anyone could react, he thrust it upward with all his might. The spearhead sank deep into Drogon''s flank, drawing a roar of pain that made the very stones of the arena vibrate.


    "No!" Daenerys screamed, her heart twisting at the sight of her child''s pain.


    Drogon thrashed, his tail smashing through stone seats, his jaws snapping at the air as he tried to reach the spear embedded in his flesh.


    More attackers surged forward, encouraged by the sight of the wounded dragon. Drogon shot flames at them, burning tens, but a dozen more followed. Ropes sailed through the air, looping around Drogon''s legs and neck. The dragon struggled against the bindings, but each movement seemed to cause him greater pain.


    "Khaleesi! Stay away from Drogon, it¡¯s dangerous!" Jorah urged, pulling her away from the dragon.


    Daenerys hesitated only a moment, meeting the loyal gaze of Barristan and Jorah before she moved. "No, come with me! We must protect Drogon!" she called desperately.


    Barristan hesitated before nodding. He realized the value of her last dragon. "Alright, we will hold them! Go to Drogon!" Barristan shouted, cutting down another attacker.


    Her vision blurred with tears as she watched Drogon strain against the ropes, his mighty body trembling with effort and pain. Her chest felt tight, each breath a labor as she witnessed her child''s suffering.


    She was failing, failing everyone who had believed in her.


    More spears came flying, filling Drogon with holes as he screamed in pain. It hurt Dany, it made her heart splinter like glass. At this rate¡­ at this rate Drogon will die. Her baby.


    ¡ª Roarrghhhh!


    And then, a different cry pierced the air¡ªdeeper, sharper, louder, and no less powerful. A golden light brightened the midday sun, drawing all eyes upward.


    Releasing a screech more powerful than Drogon, Viserion landed, her golden scales bright as she breathed out flames that burned through the ropes restraining Drogon.


    People threw spears at her too, but they simply bounced off her gleaming golden scales like twigs against stone. Viserion lifted her majestic head, golden eyes narrowing into slits, and seemed to grin mockingly at the foolish humans below.


    "Pathetic humans... dare... to hurt my blood!¡± Viserion positioned herself protectively over Drogon, her wings flared out like a shimmering golden shield.


    The dragon''s voice was something Daenerys had never heard before¡ªa deep, guttural rumble that somehow formed recognizable words, sending shivers down the spines of every survivor.


    With a quick, brutal motion, Viserion whipped her tail forward, slicing right through several Sons of the Harpy like they were made of paper. Blood splashed everywhere, soaking the sand a deep, ugly red. The dragon lunged ahead, crushing attackers beneath her huge claws, their bones snapping loudly beneath her weight.


    One brave, or maybe foolish, Harpy charged at her with his spear, stabbing desperately at Viserion¡¯s chest, but the weapon just shattered against her thick scales. She tilted her head a bit, almost amused by his guts¡ªor stupidity¡ªbefore casually smashing his skull with one heavy stomp of her massive claw.


    Viserion¡¯s magnificent wings spread wide, slicing gracefully through the air like enormous golden blades, leaving destruction in their wake.


    The ground quickly became a chaotic scene sprinkled with remnants of battle.


    Just as another group of attackers surged toward her, a fierce burst of dragonfire erupted from Drogon, turning them to ash and melting their armor in an instant. But more enemies kept coming, refusing to abandon their futile charge.


    Viserion spun around sharply, her massive wings whipping up gusts strong enough to hurl men against the arena walls, their bones breaking upon impact. Her jaws snapped shut, catching two attackers mid-air, tearing them to shreds before flinging their mangled bodies back into the chaos.


    ¨C Shiing!


    A sharp, blade-like sound spread through the arena, as a new pair of wings cut through the air at a terrible speed. Dany looked up to find Viserys reaching the skies of the arena from wherever he¡¯d been all this time. Her heart skipped a beat as he gilded downward, his wings casting a dark shadow over the battlefield.


    Arrows aimed at him were swatted away as if they were mere pests, still floating a dozen feet above the ground. For a brief moment, he hovered silently, casting a cold gaze upon the devastation below.


    Then¡­


    "Viserion," he ordered calmly, his voice full of authority. "Gold Dragon''s Breath."


    At his words, Viserion¡¯s throat expanded as molten fire built up inside her. It wasn¡¯t anything like Drogon¡¯s, no. Dany¡¯s eyes widened as the flames exploded outward in a controlled, blazing stream. Unlike normal Dragonfire, this golden flame twisted and turned as if alive, washing over the Sons of the Harpy and burning them up in an instant.


    The whole fighting pit turned into a fiery nightmare, yet somehow, Daenerys and her people remained untouched amid the destruction.


    She stared in disbelief at her brother''s power, at the control he exerted over his dragon. How had he achieved such mastery? How had Viserion grown so powerful?


    The fight was destined to continue¡ªViserys was here, her brother, coming to her rescue despite everything. The Sons of Harpy didn¡¯t stand a chance!


    But Daenerys couldn''t stay.


    Shame and failure washed over her like a tide. Her city was in chaos, another of her husbands dead, her friends wounded, and her own dragon injured because of her decisions.


    With sudden, desperate determination, she swiftly climbed atop Drogon''s broad back, ignoring the pain radiating from her injured arm. She clung to his scales as he roared again, his wings spreading wide. ¡°Go,¡± she begged, ¡°fly.¡±


    With a powerful thrust, Drogon surged upward, leaving chaos and death behind.


    The wind tore at her hair, the city shrinking rapidly beneath them. Daenerys looked down, heart aching for those left behind, but she didn''t have the courage to show her face to these people anymore. Viserys turned his head and her eyes met his. She was scared he¡¯d give her a mocking look, but his expression¡­ it was full of rage. But not toward her.


    N-no, I must be seeing things. Whatever the case, she didn¡¯t want to spend another minute here. She had failed them. Failed as a queen, failed as a ruler, failed as a Targaryen.


    And now, as she fled on Drogon''s back, she could not escape the truth that her brother, the brother she had dismissed and defied, had come to save what remained of her broken kingdom.


    ¡°Dracarys.¡±


    **


    **


    **

 [98] Fire And Blood

    Chapter 98: Fire And Blood


    ¡ª


    The dry grass of the Dothraki Sea whispered beneath Daenerys as she curled into herself, the midday sun bearing down with merciless heat. Her broken arm throbbed in time with her heartbeat, a constant reminder of her failure. Of her brother.


    Drogon lay sprawled nearby, his massive form casting the only shadow for miles. Blood still oozed from the wounds he''d suffered in Daznak''s Pit, spears embedded in his black scales like pins in a seamstress''s cushion. She''d tried to remove them, but he''d snapped at her fingers, eyes blazing with pain and fury.


    "Please," she whispered, crawling closer despite his warning growl. "Let me help you."


    The dragon regarded her with amber eyes that held no recognition, no loyalty¡ªjust the wild, untamed spirit of a creature that answered to no master. Not even the Mother of Dragons.


    How had her brother tamed one such beast?


    Shame washed over her anew. She had abandoned her city, her people, her friends. Left Ser Barristan bleeding, Grey Worm barely recovered from his earlier wounds, Missandei with a fresh gash across her shoulder. They had fought for her, and she had fled.


    And Viserys...


    The memory of his face as she soared away twisted in her gut like a knife. He''d come for her after all, despite her defiance, despite her broken promises. His dragon¡ªstronger, more magnificent than even Drogon¡ªhad moved with precision and power that Daenerys could only dream of commanding. Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The vast emptiness of the Dothraki Sea mirrored Daenerys''s sense of abandonment. Each breath felt like labor, weighed down by the heavy realization of her failures.


    Yet, amidst the whispers of the dry grass and Drogon''s occasional pained growl, a spark of resolve ignited within her. She recalled the faces of those who had stood by her¡ªthe loyalty in Grey Worm''s eyes, the unyielding determination of Ser Barristan, the gentle support of Missandei.  They had fought for her, believed in her vision of a better world.


    A sudden wave of clarity washed over her.


    She¡­ couldn''t abandon them now, not when they needed her most. They were more than just subjects; they were her family, her people.


    Since her dreams of getting the Iron Throne were ruined, the city of Meereen became more than a throne¡ªit was a promise of freedom, a symbol of her dream to break the chains of oppression. She had to go back.


    "...Why did you bring me here?" she asked Drogon, her voice cracking with thirst. She¡¯d initially only wanted to fly into the pyramid, but Drogon brought her here. She leaned against his body, staring ahead as she spoke slowly. "Take me back. They need us."


    ¡°Grrgh,¡± Drogon flicked his tail, unconcerned with her pleas. She sighed, staring ahead.


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    He had gorged himself on wild goats earlier, leaving nothing but charred bones for her to find. Now, his only interest seemed to be sleep.


    Daenerys sank back into the grass, her strength fading. Without water, without food, she wouldn''t last long in this wasteland. Another failure to add to her growing list.


    "You should have listened."


    The voice slithered through the air like silk. Daenerys stiffened, then turned slowly.


    Quaithe the Shadowbinder stood a few paces away, her lacquered mask gleaming in the sunlight. Her form shimmered as if seen through water. The shadowbinder''s presence seemed both solid and ethereal, a contradiction of the natural world.


    "You," Daenerys breathed, struggling to her feet. "Have you come to mock me as well?"


    "I came to witness," Quaithe replied, her voice eerily calm. "To see the dragon queen fallen from her throne of bones."


    Fury flared in Daenerys''s chest. "I have not fallen. Meereen still stands, and I will return¡ª"


    "Meereen burns," Quaithe interrupted. "The Sons of the Harpy spread through its streets like poison. Your Unsullied fall one by one. Your friends bleed. Your reign crumbles to ash."


    Each word struck like a physical blow. Daenerys swayed on her feet. "No," she whispered. "My brother¡ª"


    "Yes," Quaithe nodded slowly. "Your brother. The dragon king. He fights your war now, while you hide in the grass. He¡¯s the sole reason that the things I just mentioned didn¡¯t happen. He defied that fate."


    "I- I''m not hiding!" Daenerys snapped, but the words rang hollow even to her own ears. "Drogon brought me here. I didn''t choose to leave."


    Quaithe tilted her head, the jewels on her mask catching the sunlight. "Didn''t you? The moment you climbed onto his back, you chose flight over fight. You chose to abandon what you could not control."


    Drogon shifted behind her as if sensing her distress. But he made no move to rise, to take her back to the city that needed her.


    "What would you have me do?" Daenerys asked, anger giving way to desperation. "Tell me plainly for once! No more riddles, no more prophecies."


    "I told you before. To go forward, you must go back." Quaithe stepped closer, her movements unnaturally smooth. "Back to the beginning. Back to blood."


    "Viserys," Daenerys said, the name bitter on her tongue.


    "The brother you denied. The king you scorned." Quaithe''s voice held no judgment, only cold facts. "He has grown into his power while you cling to the ghost of yours."


    Daenerys felt herself trembling, not from fear but from the weight of truth in those words. She thought of Viserys as he was now¡ªcommanding, powerful, his dragon obeying his every word while her own fled at the first opportunity.


    The contrast was so stark it burned.


    "He broke my arm," she said softly. "He threatened me. Called me useless."


    "And was he wrong?" Quaithe asked, the question slicing deep. "You have lost two dragons. Your city bleeds. Your soldiers die. Your enemies multiply."


    Daenerys had no answer.


    "The time for pride has passed, Daenerys Stormborn," Quaithe continued, circling her slowly. "The dragon must not fight the dragon. Fire against fire leaves only ashes."


    "You want me to surrender to him?" Daenerys asked incredulously. "To kneel before my brother like¡ªlike some conquered queen?"


    "I want you to remember who you are." Quaithe stopped directly before her. "Blood of the dragon. Last of the Targaryens, save one. You were meant to rule together, a dynasty reborn through fire. He¡¯s not here to conquer you¡­ he¡¯s just here to take his sister back."


    Dany¡¯s heart spasmed at her last words. Does he truly? Despite everything, she let out a laugh¡ªa hollow, bitter sound. "You don''t know my brother if you think he would share power."


    "I know him better than you think," Quaithe said cryptically. "He has changed, yes. Grown stronger, yes. But he came for you when you needed him most. Would a true enemy do such a thing?"


    The question lingered in the air between them.


    Daenerys remembered the rage in Viserys''s eyes as she fled¡ªnot directed at her, but at those who dared attack her. It didn''t fit with the brother who had sold her, abused her, and threatened her unborn child.


    "...Who are you?¡±


    ¡°That is not important, Mother of Dragons.¡±


    Dany knew asking more was useless, so she sighed. ¡°What would you have me do?" she asked again, quieter now.


    "Submit," Quaithe said simply. "Not to break, but to bend. Like the reed in the storm that survives while the oak shatters. Find him. Join him. Together, you will be unstoppable."


    Daenerys looked away, staring across the endless plains. "And if I refuse?" she was not convinced. She¡¯d never be.


    "Then you will die," Quaithe said, her voice soft with certainty. "Alone, forgotten. And he will rule all the same. Lonely, but regardless."


    ****


    After that talk, the vision of Quaithe shimmered and vanished like morning mist, leaving Daenerys alone with the endless grasslands stretching in every direction. Then Drogon shifted restlessly beside her, his massive wings extending briefly before he launched himself skyward with surprising speed.


    "Drogon!" Daenerys cried, her voice breaking. "Please don''t leave me!"


    But the black dragon soared higher, a dark shadow against the pale blue sky. It then banked sharply and disappeared beyond the horizon. Abandoned. Again.


    Her stomach clenched with hunger, her throat parched with thirst. Daenerys stumbled forward, her legs trembling beneath her. She couldn''t simply sit there staring at the charred bones of sheep Drogon had devoured earlier.


    The tall grass lashed against her legs as she pressed on. With each step, her burden grew heavier, as her broken arm sent jolts of pain through her body with every motion. She scanned the terrain anxiously, looking for any hint of water, food, or shelter.


    Nothing.


    The grassland offered nothing.


    Other than endless waves of gold and brown under the merciless sun.


    It made her feel helpless. It made her want to cry. Submit, Quaithe had said. The word tasted like ashes in her mouth as her lips quivered.


    "...No. I am Daenerys Stormborn," she whispered to herself, her cracked lips stinging. "I take what is mine with fire and blood. I do not submit."


    But hadn''t she already fled? Abandoned her people? Left Meereen to burn while she cowered in the grass like a frightened rabbit? And Viserys¡ªher cruel, weak brother who had sold her like chattel¡ªnow commanded a dragon more powerful than her own. The irony was bitter enough to choke on.


    As she spent the next hour roaming the grass in search of a single fruit-bearing tree, something finally changed.


    ¨C Dhum¡­ Dhum¡­ Dhum!


    A distant sound pulled her from her thoughts. Drums? No¡ªhoofbeats. Hundreds of them, perhaps ten thousand, pounding against the earth in a rhythm as old as the grasslands themselves.


    Daenerys froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. One by one, riders appeared on the horizon, their silhouettes unmistakable. Long braids and curved arakhs gleaming in the sunlight.


    The Dothraki.


    Dammit. They saw her as an enemy, someone who was the reason why Khal Drogo died. This couldn¡¯t be good.


    They spread across the grassland like a living wave, horses snorting and stomping as they encircled her position. Thousands of them, far less than Drogo commanded, but more than enough to tear her apart. Their whoops and cries filled the air as they drew closer, tightening the noose around her.


    Daenerys swallowed. She stood straight, lifting her chin despite the fear coursing through her veins.


    She had been Khaleesi once. She would not cower before them, even in defeat.


    But as the circle of mounted warriors closed around her, the magnitude of her situation crashed down upon her shoulders. Alone. Dragonless. Injured. She was nothing but prey to them now. What could she do against ten thousand Dothraki?!


    Daenerys sighed, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion and resignation.


    After everything she had survived¡ªthe Red Waste, Qarth, the Masters of Astapor, and Yunkai, the Sons of the Harpy¡ªto fall to Dothraki in the middle of nowhere seemed a cruel jest of the gods. Wasn¡¯t that funny? Somehow, she couldn¡¯t laugh.


    ¡ª Roarrghhhh!


    Then¡ªa roar split the sky.


    Not Drogon. She knew her child''s voice, and this was different¡ªdeeper, more commanding. She knew this one too.


    A golden sheen fell over the world as if the sun itself had descended.


    Daenerys looked up to find Viserion soaring overhead, the dragon''s golden scales catching the sunlight in a blinding display of power. She flew low as her massive form flew over the Dothraki, whose horses slowed and turned away in panic. Loyal steeds who would never fear battle now fled for their lives, though not all could escape.


    ¡°Wha-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t run!¡±


    ¡°Coward stallion!¡±


    They yelled among themselves, and Dany looked around in wonder. It was a sight to see these brave men tremble. They looked at the dragon in fear, and they looked at her in fear, for the dragon was here to protect her.


    Viserion landed behind her with earth-shaking force, her wings creating a gust that nearly knocked Daenerys off her feet. The golden dragon roared at the Dothraki forces, the sound vibrating through Daenerys''s bones. The air boomed, grass exploded.


    ¡°Barbaric mudbloods.¡± And there, atop the magnificent creature, sat Viserys.


    Her brother, transformed beyond recognition from the sniveling, cruel man she had once known, glared at the Dothraki. Then, he looked down at her. He smiled at her, his expression shifting to triumph and something softer she couldn''t quite name.


    "How many times do I have to save you in a single day, sister? Not very dragon-like," he insulted her and then reached out a hand. "Come."


    Daenerys stared at the offered hand, paralyzed by indecision.


    To take it would mean surrender¡ªan admission that she had failed where he had succeeded. That she couldn¡¯t survive without him. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the idea.


    Yet what choice did she truly have? Surrounded by Dothraki, without Drogon, with a broken arm... could she really afford pride now?


    If she refused him, what then? Would he leave her to the khalasar? Fly away as Drogon had? Or would he take her anyway, drag her back to Meereen in chains to show everyone how the mighty Mother of Dragons had fallen?


    And if she accepted... what would he demand in return?


    Submission? The Iron Throne? Her very dragons?


    But my dragons are already lost to me, she thought bitterly. Rhaegal stolen, Drogon fled, and Viserion... Viserion never belonged to me at all.


    Perhaps Quaithe was right. Perhaps this was the only way forward¡ªthrough surrender. But, she wasn¡¯t sure if she had it in her to¡ª


    ¡°Ugh, annoying to the last second.¡± Before she could finish the thought, Viserys grumbled impatiently. He leaped from Viserion''s back with inhuman grace, landing beside her. In one swift motion, he yanked her off her feet.


    "Look," he said, jumping back onto Viserion''s back as if the massive height were nothing, cradling her against his chest, "if you''re so stubborn, I''ll just have to be a bit more forceful and claim you myself. I don''t care if you keep fight¡ª"


    The words died in his throat as Daenerys wrapped her arms around his neck, gently resting her face against his shoulder.


    "No..." she said softly, her voice barely audible over Viserion''s breathing. "I won''t fight anymore. I¡­¡± she barely found the strength to speak. ¡°I am sorry for being like this... brother."


    Viserys froze for a moment, clearly caught off guard by her surrender. A moment passed between them like that, surrounded by shouting Dothraki and a roaring Viserion. Then his expression softened into a genuine smile. He hugged her back, one arm secure around her waist.


    "Viserion. Fly," he commanded.


    The golden dragon scoffed before spreading her wings and launching into the sky, leaving the thousands of Dothraki men on horseback far below. The sight made something click into place in Daenerys''s mind.


    Her brother wasn''t the same man who had sold her to Khal Drogo. The same man who had been bullied by every Dothraki, even the weakest among them. Now, he could simply ignore thousands of them together and walk away because they posed no threat to him. Because if they tried to harm him, she was sure the Grass Sea wouldn¡¯t belong to the Dothraki anymore.


    Dany felt pathetic at that realization. Knowing how lesser she was compared to him. As they soared higher, the acceptance of everything she had lost¡ªand everything he had gained¡ªwashed over her in a wave of grief and acceptance.


    Yet, at the same time, she felt safe. Because lesser or not, he was her brother, and he came all the way here to protect her.


    Daenerys found herself sobbing against her brother''s chest, tears she had held back for too long finally breaking free.


    Spoiler


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    Author Note: Did you like the chapter? Let me know!

 [99] Realization in the Sky

    Chapter 99: Realization in the Sky


    ¡ª


    The sun blazed overhead, casting shimmering patterns across Viserion''s golden scales as we soared through the endless blue expanse. Clouds passed by us, lightening the day¡¯s toll on us.


    Far below, Slaver''s Bay stretched like a dark sapphire, its waters hiding the horrors that had given the region its name.


    I held Daenerys firmly against my chest, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other gripping Viserion''s spine ridges. Her silver-gold hair whipped across my face occasionally, carrying a scent that dragged me back to our childhood¡ªbefore the madness.


    Before the fall.


    She hadn''t spoken a word since we left the Dothraki Sea. Her body remained tense against mine, though her arms had relaxed their death grip around my neck.


    Pride wounded, spirit broken¡ªthe mighty Khaleesi, the vaunted Mother of Dragons, reduced to being rescued by the only brother she''d once discarded. I felt her shallow breathing, the slight tremor that ran through her whenever Viserion banked sharply. Her broken arm lay awkwardly between us, a reminder of my own cruelty.


    I should have felt triumphant. Vindicated. Yet, strangely, victory was a mix. I did feel those two things I just mentioned, but it wasn¡¯t a 100% pleasant feeling.


    How things change, I mused, watching a flock of birds scatter at our approach. From a pathetic, silver-haired beggar to the Dragon King who commanded the skies. Once, I''d dreamed of nothing more than selling my sister for an army, scraping together enough power to take back what was stolen from us.


    My ambitions had been laughably small¡ªa hundred thousand dumb barbaric screamers to conquer Seven Kingdoms.


    Now, with the System''s power flowing through my veins and Viserion at my command, those early dreams seemed like a child''s fantasy.


    === Page [?] ===


    Viserys Targaryen


    The Dragon King


    23 Years Old


    Level 50


    58 STR


    60 END


    57 DEX


    62 INT


    58 LUC S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    180 AUTH


    === Page [?] ===


    I observed the Status Screen. Level 50 now, and with a newDraconic Trait after the Wings I received 25 levels ago. I was more than a mere human now. A lot more.


    I''d become something more¡ªsomething stronger, deadlier, more cunning than I''d ever imagined possible. I''d secured alliances with Houses Tyrell and Stark. I''d subjugated the Iron Islands. I''d defeated Stannis Baratheon and claimed King''s Landing. I''d executed the false king Joffrey before his mother''s eyes.


    I ruled the Seven Kingdoms as its sole monarch.


    And yet...


    Something had been missing. Something I''d been reluctant to acknowledge.


    Her.


    My little sister, the last of my blood, the final piece of our shattered family. She was the only person in this world who remembered our mother''s lullabies or could share stories of our childhood home¡ªeven if those memories were mere fragments for her.


    Sentiment, I scoffed inwardly. Weak. Foolish. Beneath me. But the truth remained. The reason I¡¯d flown across the sea to come see her. Ruling without Daenerys at my side had felt incomplete. Not because I needed her power or her counsel, but because she was a Targaryen. The Targaryen other than me. Jon Snow didn¡¯t count, he was a bastard. And he wasn¡¯t my sibling.


    Dany and I were the last dragons, and dragons belonged together.


    Viserion banked slightly, adjusting her course with the shifting winds. The world tilted beneath us¡ªendless grasslands giving way to rolling hills, then more arid terrain as we neared the coastline again. Clouds drifted below us like islands in a sea of blue, casting scattered shadows on the land.


    I glanced down at Daenerys. Her eyes were half-closed, exhaustion evident in every line of her body. Her lips were cracked from dehydration, her skin flushed from the sun. She needed water, food, medical attention¡ªall things I could provide once we reached civilization.


    But first...


    "Viserion," I commanded, my voice carrying easily over the rush of wind, "change course. To Yunkai."


    I felt Daenerys stiffen against me. Her eyes snapped fully open, looking up at me with confusion and alarm.


    "Yunkai?" she finally broke her silence, voice hoarse from disuse. "Why? Meereen is where we need to go. My people are fighting there, dying¡ª"


    "Your people?" I cut her off with a harsh laugh. "The same people who were ready to skewer your dragon and watch you burn? The same city that spawned the Sons of the Harpy?"


    Viserion responded to my command, banking sharply eastward. The coastline appeared on the horizon, a thin line separating blue from brown.


    "They''re still my responsibility," Daenerys insisted, though with less conviction than before. "I abandoned them once already. I can''t¡ª"


    "Can''t what?" I challenged. "Can''t make the right strategic decision? Can''t put aside your pride long enough to listen to someone who knows better?"


    Her eyes flashed with momentary defiance¡ªa glimpse of the dragon still alive within her. Good. I hadn''t come all this way to rescue a broken shell.


    "Look, Dany," I continued, my tone softening slightly. "I¡¯ve already stabilized Meereen as much as possible, your presence there isn¡¯t going to change anything. So just sit back for this, alright? We¡¯ll go to Yunkai and have a chat with the Great Masters. They are the real power behind the Sons of the Harpy.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed, but I recognized the calculation behind them. My sister was many things, but stupid wasn''t one of them. She understood strategy, even if her execution had been lacking.


    "The Wise Masters," she murmured. ¡°I had my doubts, but¡­¡±


    "The same," I confirmed. "They fund your enemies, arm them, direct them. And they sit untouched in their gilded pyramids, believing themselves beyond your reach."


    Below us, the landscape changed again. Green gave way to yellows and browns as we approached the coastline. Ships appeared as tiny specks on the water''s surface, merchants and slavers plying their ancient trade routes, oblivious to the dragon passing overhead.


    "What do you intend to do?" Daenerys asked, her voice stronger now, curiosity overcoming her earlier meekness.


    I smiled, feeling the familiar warmth of power suffusing my veins. "What dragons do best, sister. Burn them all."


    As the words left my mouth, Viserion rumbled her approval, the vibration passing through her massive frame and into our bodies.


    For a moment, something of our childhood returned as our eyes locked. As we sank into the feeling that we were riding a dragon¡ªa real dragon, flying across the sky. The way she''d once looked at me before I''d become bitter and cruel, before I''d sold her to Drogo. Before she''d grown into her own power and left me behind.


    It wasn''t like those innocent days¡ªtoo much had happened, too many wounds inflicted¡ªbut it was a step toward something I hadn''t realized I''d been missing.


    She nodded slowly, her head resting against my shoulder once more. Not in defeat this time, but in something approaching understanding. If not trust, then at least acceptance.


    "The last time I was in Yunkai," she said quietly, "I freed the slaves and left. I thought... I thought it would last."


    "I don¡¯t want to ridicule you, but freedom isn¡¯t as easy as you thought it was. Freedom must be enforced, sister," I replied, watching the coastal cities begin to take shape in the distance. "And enforcement requires power." I tightened my grip on her waist slightly. "Power the Dragon King now possesses."


    Her expression remained unreadable, but she didn''t pull away. Instead, her uninjured hand came to rest lightly on mine¡ªnot quite an embrace, but not rejection either.


    The sky stretched endlessly around us, a canvas of deepening blue as afternoon wore toward evening. The air grew cooler at this height, though Viserion''s natural heat kept us warm. Below, the world seemed small and insignificant¡ªcities reduced to toy models, people to specks, problems to simple puzzles easily solved with fire and blood.


    Up here, with the last of my blood in my arms and a dragon beneath me, I understood the Targaryen words as never before.


    We weren''t meant to crawl among the lesser beings, to beg or plead or negotiate. We were meant to rule from on high, to shape the world as we saw fit.


    Yunkai appeared on the horizon, its yellow walls catching the sunlight like a beacon. Within those walls, the Wise Masters plotted, secure in their belief that distance protected them from Daenerys''s wrath. They had no idea what was coming.


    "For what it''s worth," I said, my voice lower than before, "I wish things had been different between us."


    Daenerys turned her face toward mine, surprise evident in her violet eyes. She searched my expression, looking for mockery perhaps, or deception. Finding none, she nodded slightly.


    "So do I."


    It wasn''t forgiveness. It wasn''t even reconciliation. But it was acknowledgment¡ªof our shared blood, our shared loss, our shared destiny. For now, that was enough.


    As Viserion accelerated toward Yunkai, flames already licking at the edges of her massive jaws, I leaned forward, my lips nearly touching Daenerys''s ear.


    "Let them see what happens when they wake the dragon¡ªdragons," I corrected myself, feeling her shiver against me. "Not just one, but two."


    **


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 [100] Fire & Blood Again

    Chapter 100: Fire & Blood Again


    ¡ª


    Zahran zo Maar reclined upon cushions woven from the finest silks of Qarth, their deep crimson hue reminiscent of wine. Or perhaps blood. The afternoon sun slanted through latticed windows, casting patterns across the marble floor of his private chamber atop Yunkai''s tallest pyramid.


    Four slave girls ¨C no, "servants" now, though the distinction existed only in name ¨C fanned him with ostrich feathers imported at ridiculous expense from the Summer Isles. He sipped lazily from a jeweled goblet, savoring the vintage from his vineyards outside the yellow walls. The sweet liquid warmed his throat, bringing a smile to his lips.


    Today was a good day to be alive. A good day to be rich. A good day to be Zahran zo Maar, Master of Masters, unofficial ruler of Yunkai.


    "By now, Meereen''s rules and order must have been obliterated," he said aloud, though none of his slave girls replied. Their silence was proper¡ªhe hadn''t asked a question, after all. Merely stated a delicious fact.


    His gaze drifted to the city sprawled beneath his pyramid. Yunkai, resplendent in yellow brick and golden domes, stretched toward the distant bay. How easily they''d regained control after that silver-haired bitch had "liberated" them.


    The Dragon Queen had swept through like a summer storm. Violent, destructive, but ultimately temporary.


    "Fools," Zahran murmured as another servant lifted a succulent grape to his lips. "They thought themselves so clever, those other Masters. Squabbling like children over scraps while I positioned myself perfectly. What do you think?" he asked the slave who fed him, hand roaming to her chest even though she was young enough to have been his granddaughter.


    She kept her head low, ¡°Y-yes, of course.¡± He liked her voice, although he failed to recall her name. What was it again?


    Anyhow, it had been almost too simple.


    While the others panicked after Daenerys Targaryen''s departure, he''d calmly assessed the situation. Sent whispers to slaves about how much harder life was without their masters'' protection. Stoked fears among the nobility about rival families. Played each faction against the others until, piece by careful piece, he''d assembled the perfect hierarchy¡ªwith himself atop it.


    "The patient predator always feasts," his father had taught him, before Zahran had arranged the old man''s convenient demise. Patience had served him well, indeed.


    The messenger from Meereen had arrived that morning, confirming what his spies had reported. The Sons of the Harpy had no issues with preparation, so they must have perfectly staged their attacks by now. The Unsullied must have faltered. The Dragon Queen''s supporters must be in chaos.


    He selected another grape, pointing his chin at it, and the young girl fed him. He ran his tongue over its smooth skin, her finger alongside it, before biting down. Sweet juice burst across his palate, matching his mood perfectly while the girl closed her eyes with a silent wince. He let her finger go, smirking.


    "More wine," he commanded, gesturing to the girl. Now he recalled her age, although her name still eluded him. She was a girl no older than fourteen. The proper age, he mused. Old enough to be useful, young enough to be malleable. She moved gracefully, head bowed, to refill his goblet.


    Soon, all of Slaver''s Bay would return to the old ways. His ways. Already, the other cities looked to Yunkai for leadership. Already, his network of spies and assassins extended through every major port from Volantis to Qarth.


    "And tomorrow," he said, raising his goblet in a mock toast to himself, "we begin negotiations to restore the slave trade to its former glory. The world as it should be."


    The sudden crash of his chamber door flying open shattered the tranquility.


    A man stumbled in¡ªone of his messengers, face slick with sweat, eyes wide with something Zahran rarely saw in his presence. Unbridled fear.


    "How dare you enter uninvited!" Zahran snapped, setting down his goblet with enough force to slosh wine onto the priceless carpet. "Guards!"


    "My lord," the messenger gasped, dropping to his knees. "Please¡ªyou must listen¡ª"


    "I must do nothing you suggest," Zahran replied coldly. "You will be flogged for this intrusion."


    "The Sons of the Harpy," the man continued desperately, "they''ve been slaughtered. Our network¡ªexposed. The siege¡ª"


    Zahran sat up straighter, wine and comfort forgotten. "Explain yourself. Now."


    "Dragons, my lord." The messenger''s voice cracked. "Two dragons descended upon the fighting pits. The golden one... it spoke. The Sons of the Harpy were destroyed in minutes! Molten gold flames engulfed them all. It was- it was hell! And now¡ª"


    "Impossible." Zahran rose to his feet, his comfortable world suddenly tilting. "The Dragon Queen has only one beast under her control, the other one was stolen. Our informants confirmed this."


    "Not anymore," the messenger whispered. "The brother, Viserys Targaryen, the King of Westeros¡ªhe commands the golden dragon. He saved the Dragon Queen when our assassins had her cornered."


    Rage rose in Zahran''s chest, hot and sudden as dragonfire itself.


    His carefully constructed plans, his meticulous plotting¡ªall threatened by these foreign upstarts with their unnatural beasts. "You lie!" he roared, advancing on the messenger. "Our spies reported the brother was in Westeros! That the queen was isolated, her dragons contained!"


    "I¡ªI only report what I saw, my lord," the man stammered, shrinking back.


    Zahran''s fist crashed down on a delicate table, sending a crystal decanter shattering to the floor. "Incompetence! Idiocy! Who leaked our plans? Which of you betrayed me?!" He whirled on his attendants, who had backed against the wall, their fans forgotten.


    "My lord," one girl whispered, her voice trembling, "perhaps we should send word to the other Masters¡ª"


    "Silence!" Zahran bellowed. "I''ll have your tongue for speaking without permission! I''ll have all your¡ª"


    The world exploded into golden light.


    Without warning, the far wall erupted inward. Sheets of flame cascaded into the room, instantly igniting the delicate silks and priceless tapestries. The slave girl who had dared speak disappeared in a column of fire, her scream cut mercifully short. Heat blasted Zahran''s face, singing his beard, stealing the breath from his lungs.


    "What¡ª" he gasped, staggering backward. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    More flames poured through the breach, hungry tongues licking at the ceiling, the floor, consuming everything they touched. Black smoke billowed upward, blinding him. Through streaming eyes, he glimpsed the messenger crawling toward the door, only to collapse as a burning beam crashed down upon him.


    The shrieks of the remaining girls pierced the roar of the inferno, a terrible harmony of fear and pain. Zahran stumbled toward the main entrance, but it too was blocked by fire, the wooden door already crumbling to ash.


    No. Not like this. Not after everything I''ve built. It can¡¯t be!


    Lungs burning, he dropped to his knees, crawling beneath the worst of the smoke. The heat pressed down like a physical weight, the skin of his hands blistering as they contacted the scorching marble floor.


    Through the billowing darkness, he spotted a rectangle of light¡ªthe balcony. His one chance.


    Inch by excruciating inch, he dragged himself toward it, the fine clothes he''d donned that morning now smoldering against his flesh. The pain was exquisite, unbearable, yet the alternative was worse. With a final, desperate lunge, he pulled himself onto the balcony, gulping the relatively fresh air.


    Only then did he look up.


    Yunkai¡ªhis beautiful city, his power base, his legacy¡ªwas dying.


    Golden flames engulfed the surrounding pyramids, their ancient stones cracking in the heat. Streets had become rivers of fire, and people fled like ants before a storm. Even at this height, the screams reached him, a chorus of terror that would haunt him if he lived long enough to remember it.


    And there, hovering against the smoke-darkened sky, was death incarnate.


    The dragon was more beautiful than Zahran had imagined, more terrible than his darkest nightmares. Scales like polished gold caught the light of the fires below, making the beast seem as if it were itself aflame. Wings wider than the greatest sailing ship beat the air with measured strokes, each movement precise and controlled. Its eyes¡ªgods, its eyes¡ªburned with intelligence no beast should possess.


    Atop the golden monster sat two figures, silver hair gleaming against the darkness. The Dragon Queen he recognized immediately, her face set in a cold mask of judgment. Beside her, one arm supporting her broken form, sat a man whose features mirrored her own¡ªyet carried something harder, crueler, more calculating.


    Viserys Targaryen, the brother she''d left behind, the king who had conquered Westeros while she struggled in Slaver''s Bay. The Targaryen who the Slaver''s Bay should have feared instead.


    Together at last, come to deliver their vengeance.


    As if sensing his gaze, the dragon turned toward him, jaws parting to reveal teeth like black daggers. For one suspended moment, Zahran locked eyes with the beast¡ªand felt somehow that it recognized him. Knew what he was. Knew what he had done.


    His legs gave way beneath him, warm liquid spreading down his thighs as his bladder released in terror. All his power, all his wealth, all his schemes¡ªworthless now. He would die here, watching his city burn, knowing he had failed.


    "Shit," he whispered, the word inadequate yet somehow capturing the totality of his despair.


    The dragon''s chest expanded, golden scales shifting like armor plates. Zahran saw light blooming in its throat, a sun rising behind monstrous teeth. His final thought was almost philosophical¡ªa detached wonder at how something so beautiful could herald such complete destruction.


    Then came the fire, and Yunkai learned that dragons do not forgive, they do not forget, and they most certainly do not show mercy to those who have wronged them.


    ****


    [You¡¯ve¡­!]


    [You¡¯ve received¡­!]


    [You¡¯ve received experience¡­!]


    [You¡¯ve received experience points!]


    The air reeked of charred flesh and molten stone. Golden firestorms devoured Yunkai¡¯s pyramids in liquid rivers of light, each collapsing tower scattering embers like dying stars. My vision flashed with endless notifications¡ªa cascade of pale blue boxes melting at the edges from the heat.


    Dany trembled against me, her whisper barely audible over the screams. "Children... the slaves... they¡¯re burning too, brother."


    I shifted her weight in my arms as Viserion banked, granting us a panorama of the Masters'' district crumbling into glowing fissures.


    "Divine fire can¡¯t discriminate, unfortunately," I said, watching a dozen specks¡ªpeople? statues?¡ªvanish in a burst of gold. "Mortals make worthy ink when history needs writing. This..." I nodded as another pyramid folded in on itself, "...is our scripture."


    She stiffened. "Monstrous."


    "I apologize if you think of me that way, but this is necessary. In my book." Below, the slums stood untouched, and crowds spilled into alleys to gawk upward. In the inferno¡¯s light, faces glowed orange, and mouths rounded with awe. ¡°Besides, not all of Yunkai burns. Only the higher district does, and even the ¡®civilians¡¯ living here are corrupt.¡±


    More than 90% of Yunkai was unharmed. I was hard-headed, but not cruel enough to burn them all. The few unlucky ones to burn beside the Masters were just unfortunate.


    Within the unharmed part of the city, I observed as a weaver dropped her basket, linen scraps scattering like white doves fleeing the flames. A smith¡¯s hammer fell forgotten as he sank to his knees.


    Viserion roared, and the city shivered.


    Dany¡¯s nails dug into my arm as the last pyramid collapsed, its rubble boiling the bay into steam. The System¡¯s chimes faded at one point, leaving only the crackle of annihilation.


    Mmm. I inhaled deeply¡ªash and salt and something sweet. Power, distilled.


    "Look," I murmured into her hair. "They¡¯ll remember this day as liberation."


    Her breath hitched. Not agreement. Not yet.


    But below, a slave child pointed at us, laughing as his master¡¯s world burned.


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    **


    **


    **


    Author Note: I find my inner poet in this chapter, even though there¡¯s no greater message hidden here when seen from any other perspective than Viserys¡¯. 100 Chapters! I hope you liked it, and the story so far.


    Come find fellow fans on Discord and more chapters on Patreon!


    Patreon: Patreon.com/Master4thWall


    Discord: .gg/dQeu27jBvf

 [101] Decisions of Dragons

    Chapter 101: Decisions of Dragons


    ¡ª


    The wind whipped around us, cold yet invigorating. A few kilometres behind us, the remains of Astapor still burned, a grim mirror of Yunkai''s fate.


    Masters reduced to ashes, their legacy crushed beneath dragonfire and screams. Both those cities, responsible for the Sons of Harpies¡¯ existence, had met justice.


    Dany had said nothing since we departed Yunkai, her body tense, her mind distant. Astapor¡¯s fate made her even quieter.


    I''d expected some emotion¡ªanger, relief, confusion¡ªbut silence? I guess that also suited the moment.


    I gently tightened my grip around her waist, leaning down slightly so my voice reached her clearly over the wind. "You haven''t spoken a word in hours. Are you punishing me with silence, sister, or are you thinking?" I asked with a joke.


    She shifted against me, uncomfortable, yet her voice was soft when she finally replied, "I am thinking."


    "Of?" I prompted.


    She turned her head slightly, eyes narrowed against the wind, staring at the distant horizon. "Of how far things have drifted from what I wanted. Of how differently things ended compared to what I dreamed."


    She''d freed those slaves, but me making an example of the Masters had claimed a few dozen, if not hundreds, of those poor lives too.


    "This is the best outcome, sister," I said bluntly. "You dreamed of freedom and justice, I commend that. And yet, you chose the wrong path. Stupidly so. The world isn''t rays of sunshine. What I''m doing is somewhat extreme, but... rulers need to be extreme."


    Daenerys was quiet again.


    When she finally spoke, her voice was softer, tinged with regret. "Perhaps you were right about me."


    I was a little caught off guard by her tone. This wasn''t the defiant sister I knew, nor was she the woman who''d clawed her way through countless trials. This was someone broken, defeated, and doubting herself.


    When she hugged me earlier, it showed that she had accepted me. Our relationship was going to improve. But by doing so, she felt like she was killing some other parts of herself.


    "Regret suits you poorly, Dany,¡± I told her sharply. "Whatever your faults¡ªand you have many¡ªweakness was never one of them."


    She didn''t answer, merely looked down as Meereen came into view, its great pyramid rising proudly above the smoke and ruins.


    "Let''s not be sad over being a failure. It does neither of us good." My voice was harsh, but sincere. "I am here because despite everything¡ªyour stubbornness, my cruelty¡ªwe''re the last dragons. And dragons should stand together. If you''re a failure, it''s because you lack experience. Power. You''ll have them both overtime.¡±


    ¡°Under you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, under me. Don''t say that as if that''s a bad thing. You need to accept this. I''m the older child, and I am more powerful than you. It''s facts. Don''t beat yourself over it, and just take it easy.¡± I said, a sigh escaping me.


    Her silence returned as Meereen grew clearer. I didn''t press further, letting the words sink in as Viserion approached the pyramid. Whatever Dany was thinking, it would soon have to find voice.


    We reached the skies of Meereen soon, and people pointed at her. Some screamed in terror, recalling Viserion¡¯s wrath upon the Sons of Harpy, and while some gasped in delight. Citizens now watched our arrival with wide eyes and hopeful faces.


    Viserion circled once above the pyramid''s peak, where the remaining Unsullied lined up rigidly, their helmets tilted upward in awe, their spears raised in disciplined respect.


    Gently, I pulled Dany upright. Her startled eyes widened when I unfolded my wings behind me, the leathery span catching the wind as I stood atop Viserion''s back.


    "Hold tight," I ordered, scooping her into my arms. With one powerful stroke, I leaped into the air, wings beating strongly as Viserion roared her farewell.


    ¡°I''ll go¡­ and¡­ find that black dragon.¡± Viserion said as she flew away.


    ¡°Be fast,¡± I said. Together, Dany and I descended swiftly through the open window of the pyramid, landing with practiced grace on the smooth stone floor.


    Daenerys clung to me briefly, eyes wide, breath quick. Then I gently set her down, folding my wings neatly back.


    She steadied herself, looking around as familiar faces entered the room hurriedly, summoned by our dramatic arrival.


    Ser Barristan rushed forward, favoring his right leg with a slight limp, fresh bandages visible beneath his white armor. Ser Jorah followed close behind, his arm bound in a bloodstained sling. His face lit with relief at the sight of Daenerys.


    "Daenerys," he breathed in relief, then caught himself with a quick glance at me. "...Khaleesi, we feared the worst."


    Missandei stood just behind them, her dark eyes brimming with emotion. "My queen," she whispered, stepping forward with hesitant joy. Dany pulled her into a hug immediately.


    Behind them, Grey Worm leaned heavily against a nearby pillar, still weak from his wounds but standing tall through sheer determination. He nodded respectfully, his face remaining stoic despite the pain evident in his eyes.


    Tyrion Lannister lingered in the shadowy corner of the chamber, cradling a goblet of wine. His mismatched eyes studied us with that characteristic blend of wariness and calculation.


    "As I promised you guys, I''ve brought her back," I announced calmly, eyes sweeping across them. Some bowed, some nodded in respect.


    ¡°We''re grateful,¡± Missandei said.


    "Meet me in half an hour. It''s time we talked." I yawned as I walked past them.


    ****


    Half an hour later, ws stood in the same chamber where chaos had erupted days before.


    Dany had just taken a bath as she returned to the room. The burned and shattered furnishings had been cleared, yet the scars of that day still lingered. She nodded at me, and then moved quietly to the window. She watched the city sprawl out beneath her, a thousand unanswered questions in her eyes.


    The others gathered around the table, tense and waiting.


    "I''ve ended Yunkai and Astapor''s ability to threaten you," I began firmly, pacing slowly before them. "Most of the Sons of the Harpy have been killed by Viserion and I yesterday, and the few hiding don''t have any backing. The Wise Masters gone, their power turned to ashes. Meereen is safe, for now."


    Ser Barristan exhaled visibly, relief clear on his lined face. "You have our deepest gratitude, Prince Viserys."


    "You are welcome, yes, but¡­" I trailed off. "I didn''t do this solely for your gratitude or Meereen''s safety. I did it to show what happens when the Targaryen name is challenged. And it''s time you start calling me Your Grace, Ser. My sister has finally regained some sense thanks to this incident, and has accepted who''s in charge.¡±


    Barristan looked surprised and looked at Daenerys, who didn''t say anything. Dany hadn''t publicly taken the knee, but when she said, ¡°I won''t fight anymore,¡± she meant every word, so she didn''t back off.


    Instead, she turned from the window, meeting my gaze steadily. "What''s next, then?"


    I inclined my head slightly toward her. "That''s precisely what we must discuss. I''m not staying here. Meereen is secure, but Westeros demands my attention, and a dragon thief runs free."


    Tyrion leaned forward sharply, his mismatched eyes alert. "Aegon and Rhaegal? You''re going to capture them?"


    "Precisely." I stared directly at Daenerys now. "Our pretender nephew has one of our dragons, sister. I intend to take it back, now that you''ve given yourself up to me." S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ¡°...Thank you,¡± she nodded at me.


    "If I may, Your Grace," Tyrion interjected, swirling the wine in his cup, "this Aegon, or whoever he claims to be, has built considerable support. He''s won over the Golden Company, no small feat. And now with a dragon..."


    "Your concern is noted, Lord Tyrion," I replied coolly. "Though I find it curious how invested you are in a pretender''s chances."


    Tyrion''s face remained carefully neutral. "Merely offering perspective, Your Grace. Strategy requires understanding all possible threats."


    "Indeed," I smiled thinly before turning back to Daenerys.


    ¡°Brother, I, uh¡­¡± she looked unsure of what to say. "Young Griff must pay for his betrayal. But what do you expect from me? You didn''t come just to inform me of your plans, I think. What are your plans with me?¡±


    "Hmm, I was about to bring that up," I answered calmly. "I''ve come to present you with a choice."


    The silence that followed was heavy, each pair of eyes flicking nervously between the two of us.


    "Firstly, you can come to Westeros. Stand beside me, rule together. But understand this: Westeros has one true king. I will not tolerate divided loyalties. The Targaryen bloodline needs to continue, so take this as a marriage proposal too, even if it''s silly that I have to propose such an obvious thing.¡±


    Dany''s expression was unreadable in my words. The others didn''t look surprised. A marriage offer was hardly a shocker, given we were the last Targaryens, and our family had a history of incest.


    I continued, ¡°I can''t promise you the title of Queen, though, unless you win it on your own against my other two wives. However, I do promise that you will be a ruler even if those two become queens. You''re my sister after all. I''d always love you more than them. Meaning, if you choose this option, you''ll be a ruler, yes¡ªbut always beneath my crown."


    Her expression darkened slightly. "...Or?"


    I smiled thinly. "Or... Well, Slaver''s Bay is an important geographical area. It''s the only place capable of supporting life near the ruins of Valyria. Someday, I intend to venture into that location and... reclaim it. Our true home. So, ruling Slaver''s Bay is beneficial. I mean, if you want, you can stay here in Meereen," I explained carefully. "Since you''ve submitted to me, it means Meereen is under my control. But I don''t plan to take your hard-earned city.¡±


    I watched as everyone in the room exchanged glances.


    I continued, ¡°Take Meereen and the other two cities I burnt as a gift from your dear brother. I''ll allow you all the aid needed from here, and you will rule this city as you please. You will be the Queen of this land, truly. But," I held up a finger, "a queen subject ultimately to the King of Westeros."


    Daenerys looked away briefly, lips tight with thought.


    Initially, I only planned to bring her back home and expand the bloodline. But... one way or another, my sister had become more than a breeding cow. I couldn''t deny her achievements, even if she''d made a lot of bad decisions. So I could allow her the freedom of ruling Essos if she wanted.


    After all, one day, I want to expand my rule to Essos, and marrying the Queen who''ll rule parts of it would help speed that up.


    In other words, I can let her play her little game of Queen and then make her have my children a few years later.


    The advisors waited breathlessly, their fates hanging upon her words.


    "...You''re asking me to choose between ruling in your shadow in a foreign land, or sitting under you on the Iron Throne," she finally said softly. "I don''t see much of a difference, brother. It''s not much of a choice."


    "No," I admitted, my eyes steady, "but it''s yours to create. Even if you rule under my shadow in Meereen, the common folk won¡¯t know that. It will look like an alliance in their eyes. And they will always love you more than your intimidating brother, who occasionally swoops in on his dragon and burns everything in his path. You won''t be loved the same way in King''s Landing, I believe. The other two girls will make it challenging. Plus, here, you truly have your own kingdom, your own advisors, and everything. Except for me. I''ll be a sea away¡­ Then again, I doubt my absence is a bad thing for you.¡± Our eyes met, and she showed no emotion. ¡°Regardless, both have their pros and cons. The choice is yours. You wanted power, Dany, you wanted freedom. But you must realize by now that neither comes without a price."


    Ser Barristan cleared his throat, stepping forward. "If I may speak freely, Your Grace?"


    I gestured for him to continue.


    "I''ve served the Targaryen dynasty my whole life. I''ve seen its greatness and its... challenges." His gaze flickered briefly between Daenerys and me. "House Targaryen has always been strongest when united. When brothers stood with sisters, when family bonds remained strong against outside threats."


    "A pretty sentiment, Ser Barristan," I replied. "But history teaches a different lesson. Dragons fight dragons just as often as they fight together."


    Tyrion set down his goblet with a sharp click against the table. "If I may offer another perspective¡ªtwo Targaryens ruling different continents creates a dynasty spanning the known world. As long as you two don''t have any serious disagreements in the future, I believe it wouldn''t fail."


    I turned to Tyrion with renewed interest. "Wise words, Lord Tyrion. Speaking of you¡­ I believe I know something that might interest you."


    The dwarf tensed visibly. "Oh?"


    "A woman named Shae. Your lover, I believe? She''s currently in the Red Keep."


    His face drained of color. "How do you¡ª"


    "I''m the king," I interrupted smoothly. "Little happens in my castle without my knowledge. She''s alive and well, if that concerns you."


    The dwarf''s hands trembled slightly as he reached for his wine. "And what do you intend to do with this... information?"


    "Nothing sinister," I assured him. "In fact, if you wish it, I could arrange for her safe passage to Meereen. With proper guards to guarantee her safety. Consider it a gesture of goodwill. So that you can serve my sister well. As far as I see it, she''ll need great help to rule.¡±


    ¡°You keep insulting me, brother,¡± Dany said, but there was barely any venom there. I ignored her.


    Tyrion studied me with wary eyes. "And the price for this... goodwill?"


    "No price. Merely an acknowledgment that I am not the monster some believe me to be. I can be generous to those who serve loyally." I smiled. "Even to those who might serve loyally in the future. Don''t make a foolish decision when you hear about the Lannister¡¯s fate at my hands in the future.¡±


    He nodded slowly, processing my words. "I... understand. I''d appreciate it if you could send her to me, Your Grace. Thank you."


    Missandei stepped forward, cautious but determined. "Your Grace, what of the slaves? Their freedom?"


    "They remain free," I answered without hesitation. "That much, I''ve granted unconditionally. They''re servants now, who get paid, as Dany made sure when she first freed them. If you guys had any confusion in this regard, no, I''m not here to rewrite the rules my sister has already set up."


    Daenerys nodded, visibly relieved. "Then I have my answer... But I need time. One night to fully decide."


    "Very well," I accepted easily. "Very soon, I''ll depart¡ªeither with you at my side or with you atop this pyramid, queen of your own making."


    Tension seeped from the room slowly, giving way to murmured conversations.


    As the people began filing out, Daenerys approached me quietly.


    "Thank you," she said softly, surprising me. "For giving me a choice."


    "I owed you that much for my own bad decisions," I replied evenly, holding her gaze firmly. "Think carefully tonight, sister. One choice brings immediate power and legacy. The other, cold solitude but potential for greatness. Consider which you prefer."


    Her eyes softened slightly, holding my gaze. "I already have."


    With that, she turned, leaving me standing alone beside the window. I turned to the night sky¡ªwaiting for dawn, and the fate that sunrise would bring.


    **


    **


    **

 [102] Paths Forged in Fire

    Chapter 102: Paths Forged in Fire


    ¡ª


    Morning light filtered through the pyramid''s high windows, casting long golden beams across the polished floor. I stood facing my sister and her advisors, my hands clasped behind my back as I surveyed them all. The night had passed quickly, and I was eager to settle matters before returning west.


    "Now that we''ve established the broader strokes of our arrangement, let''s address immediate concerns," I said, my voice echoing in the chamber. "Meereen and the surrounding territories need stable governance structure, immediately."


    Grey Worm remained stoic but attentive, while Ser Jorah couldn''t quite hide his suspicion behind that weathered face of his. Tyrion, the calculating imp, leaned forward from his seat.


    "If I may, Your Grace," Tyrion interjected, swirling his wine thoughtfully. "The people need reassurance. The chaos of recent days has left them terrified ¨C they''ve seen dragons battling in the sky, their queen vanishing, and then you arriving with devastating power." He set his cup down. "A public appearance is necessary ¨C immediately. The citizens must see Queen Daenerys alive and well, with you standing beside her as an ally, not a conqueror."


    I nodded slowly. The dwarf''s political instincts were sharp. "A valid point. I disagree with me standing beside her, though. Not physically anyway. She can just announce that I''m an ally.¡±


    Ser Barristan cleared his throat. "The security situation remains fragile, Your Grace. The foot soldiers of the Golden Company have all left. We couldn''t do anything to stop them since that''d risk a battle that we couldn''t afford.¡±


    ¡°Fair point,¡± I said.


    He continued, ¡°That aside, with your permission, I suggest organizing Unsullied patrols throughout the city, particularly in areas where Sons of the Harpy sympathizers might hide. We could establish checkpoints at key intersections to monitor movement and root out any remaining resistance."


    "The Sons will scatter like cockroaches now their masters are ash," I replied. "But your caution is warranted. Proceed with the patrols."


    Missandei stepped forward, her eyes meeting mine directly ¨C brave woman, given what she''d seen of my power. "Your Grace, the survivors of Yunkai and Astapor will be terrified, leaderless. We should dispatch envoys immediately with promises of mercy and rebuilding efforts. If we don''t reach out soon, chaos will spread beyond Meereen''s walls."


    Her insight impressed me. The fear my actions had created could serve multiple purposes if properly channeled.


    I paced slowly, considering each suggestion. "Very well. Lord Tyrion, draft a speech for my sister to deliver this afternoon. Keep it simple ¨C assure the citizens that Meereen stands strong, that the threat from rival cities has been neutralized, and that those who murdered innocents have paid the price."


    Tyrion nodded, already composing phrases in his head, I could tell.


    "Ser Barristan, organize your patrols but ensure they''re mixed ¨C Unsullied accompanied by local volunteers where possible. The people must see themselves as participants in their own security, not merely subjects under occupation."


    The old knight bowed. "As you command."


    "Missandei, select trusted representatives ¨C those who understand both slave and master cultures. Send them to collect survivors from Yunkai and Astapor. Make clear that while the old power structures are gone forever, those who accept my sister''s authority will find shelter and opportunity."


    They all nodded with new purpose, the uncertainty of recent days giving way to clear direction. Even Ser Jorah''s perpetual scowl softened marginally.


    "One more thing," I added, watching them pause. "This is assuming Dany wants to stay. Publicly she is the independent ruler of Slaver''s Bay. I might change that later once I take care of Young Griff, but for now, this is her city, her rule. I am merely an ally, ensuring its security."


    The subtle shift in their expressions told me everything. They were alright with it.


    With tasks assigned, I turned to Daenerys, who had remained silent throughout our planning. Her violet eyes watched me carefully, me who was giving a King¡¯s decree in her throne room.


    "All of this will ease considerably if the people see you staying here, sister," I said, my voice softer now. "I''m planning to keep Lord Tyrion and others here anyway to keep the rule, even if you decide to come to King¡¯s Landing with me. However, your presence would be the key factor to ensure lasting peace." I stepped closer, my eyes locked with hers. "What do you say? Have you decided yet?¡±


    Would she choose to come with me, or remain here?


    The chamber fell silent. Even Tyrion stopped fidgeting with his cup. The question hung between us like a blade, suspended by the thinnest thread.


    Daenerys straightened, and I noticed she''d regained some of her regal bearing despite her injuries. "I¡­ have," she replied, her voice clear and steady. "I will remain in Meereen."


    A flicker of relief crossed her advisors'' faces ¨C except Tyrion''s. The dwarf had already calculated this outcome, evidently.


    I wasn''t surprised either. Considering my speech so far, it was assuming she''d stay. It''d go against what I knew of her character if she decided to come with me.


    "These cities need stability," my sister continued. "The people I''ve freed need protection. And frankly, brother..." She paused, measuring her words carefully. "Your methods, while effective, would undermine everything I''ve built here.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I will be Queen in Essos, under your authority as you''ve offered, but with my own approach to rule. Is that fine?¡± She asked.


    I allowed a small smile to touch my lips. "Yes. It''s a wise choice," I said simply. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Privately, I felt satisfaction settle in my chest. This was precisely what I''d anticipated ¨C what I''d preferred.


    My sister would maintain this Eastern foothold, extending Targaryen influence across the Narrow Sea without requiring my constant attention. Her presence here served me far better than dragging her back to Westeros would have.


    "We''ll formalize our arrangement before I depart," I added. "A treaty between siblings, between continents."


    Tyrion opened his mouth to speak, likely to suggest terms favorable to Daenerys, but that was pointless.


    When I said formalize, I didn''t mean a written contract. Dany was my blood, my property after she submitted to me, so it was simply a vocal yes or no record.


    Tyrion couldn''t speak because the room suddenly trembled with a sound that shook the very stones beneath our feet.


    A dragon''s roar. Then another, deeper and more powerful.


    We all froze, eyes darting to the balcony. The sound came again ¨C two distinct calls echoing across the city.


    "Viserion," I said, already moving toward the balcony.


    "And¡­ Drogon," Daenerys whispered, hope surging in her voice as she followed me, her advisors close behind.


    We rushed outside, the morning breeze whipping at our clothes as we gazed upward. There, circling the great pyramid, two massive shapes cut through the clouds ¨C one golden as the sunrise, the other black as midnight.


    Viserion spotted me immediately, banking sharply toward our balcony with Drogon following more cautiously. My dragon''s joy radiated through our bond as she approached.


    "I found him¡­ human!!¡± She announced. ¡°Black dragon was¡­ injured¡­ hiding in the mountains. I healed¡­ him with my fire," Viserion''s thoughts reached me, pride evident in each word.


    She can do that? I realized only a moment later that she had a version of the ability I gained at Level 50. [Regeneration]. I had felt it the second I clicked the option¡ªthat pulse in my bones, the fire under my scales, not just flickering now but raging.


    This body¡­ now it could just fix itself.


    Blades that used to stab deep? Give me a minute, and I¡¯ll shake them off like water. Arrows? A joke. Even the worst cuts¡­ they knit back together. Seal shut. Disappear.


    It took time, sure¡ªbut very short.


    My wounds healed faster than average even before this, thanks to my high END, but now, a lethal wound that meant lying around for days, hurting, could be healed in no time. The best part?


    It slowed down my aging. I didn''t know by what rate, but I was another step ahead of mortality.


    I didn¡¯t get a system page explaining all this, but once I accepted the skill, the information bloomed in my head.


    I watched as Daenerys stepped forward, tears welling in her eyes as she beheld her lost child. ¡°My child,¡± Dany muttered. Drogon circled warily, still cautious of Viserion, but his eyes focused intently on Daenerys.


    "Drogon," she called, her voice breaking with emotion.


    The black dragon rumbled in response, not approaching but clearly recognizing his mother. One wing showed signs of healing ¨C confirmation of Viserion''s claim about finding him injured.


    I glanced sideways at my sister, studying the naked relief on her face. Her fingers stretched outward, trembling slightly as if she could touch her dragon across the distance.


    "It seems our family reunion grows more complete by the hour," I said quietly.


    Daenerys turned to me, genuine gratitude in her expression. It was a look I hadn''t seen directed at me in years ¨C perhaps not since we were children.


    "Thank you," she whispered.


    I simply nodded, a subtle smile playing at my lips as the dragons circled overhead, gold and black against the brightening sky.


    ****


    Hours later, the wind whipped Daenerys''s silver hair across her face as she stepped onto the sun-drenched summit of the Great Pyramid. Her arm throbbed dully beneath its fresh bandages, a persistent reminder of her brother''s strength and fury.


    Yet here he stood, calm now, his back to her as he patted Viserion''s back.


    She paused, taking in the sight of them¡ªbrother and dragon bathed in golden morning light. So similar in coloring, in temperament, in the danger they presented.


    How swiftly things had changed.


    A fortnight ago, she''d been the conqueror, the liberator, the unburnt. Now she stood in her brother''s shadow, watching him prepare to leave her with what remained of her former glory.


    "Brother," she called softly.


    Viserys turned, his violet eyes¡ªso like her own¡ªreflecting the sunlight. He''d changed since those desperate days when he''d sold her to Khal Drogo, he truly had. Power had transformed him, refined the ragged edges of his character into something both more terrible and more magnificent.


    "I thought you might not come to say farewell," he said, his voice lighter than she expected.


    Daenerys stepped closer, sensing Viserion''s watchful gaze upon her. "I wanted to tell you again, face to face, that I''ll remain in Meereen." She squared her shoulders, finding strength in the certainty of her decision. "This is where I belong. Don''t get me wrong, but I barely saw the Iron Throne, I was an infant. So while I''m aware that it''s my home, I don''t feel the attraction to return.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± He asked idly.


    ¡°Yes. These people here¡­ they need me, and I need space. I don''t want to fight for your affection with other women¡­" She met his eyes directly. "It''s better this way, for both of us."


    Viserys studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded. "I don''t blame you for this choice, if you''re worried. You didn''t have to come explain yourself like this. Westeros would have swallowed you whole. Here, you can build something lasting. Something yours." A half-smile touched his lips. "Though I expect regular reports on your progress. And for you to realize, what belongs to you, belongs to me too. Because you are mine.¡±


    "..." she stayed quiet, a little unsure at what she felt by his words. What was she supposed to feel?


    "I''ll visit soon in a few weeks," he added, adjusting his golden gauntlets. "Westeros has its challenges, but Viserion makes the journey manageable. And I''ll want to see how my eastern holdings prosper under your care."


    As she watched him stare at her, Daenerys felt her throat tighten unexpectedly. For all his cruelty, for all the pain between them, he was still her blood¡ªthe last true connection to the family she''d never known.


    "...Yes. The pyramid is the home of the Dragon King now," she said, attempting lightness.


    He chuckled and stepped toward her. Before she could react, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips against her forehead. The gesture was so unexpected, so reminiscent of the brother who had once protected her, that Daenerys felt tears threatening to form.


    "Be strong, Dany," he murmured against her skin. "Rule wisely. And I''ll come back soon. With or without Rhaegal."


    Then he withdrew, leaving a phantom warmth where his lips had touched.


    Daenerys blinked rapidly, refusing to let the stupid tears fall. She would not show weakness, not even now.


    "Hah¡­ Safe journey, brother," she managed, stepping back as Viserys mounted Viserion with practiced ease.


    The golden dragon stretched her massive wings, sending gusts of wind across the pyramid''s summit. Daenerys watched as rider and mount rose gracefully into the air, circling once around the pyramid before banking westward, toward the distant shores of their ancestral home.


    Toward the deserts of Dorne.


    The breeze caressed her cheeks as Daenerys turned to face her city¡ªher responsibility. Far below, the streets of Meereen pulsed with life, the citizens going about their day, unaware of the private drama that had unfolded above them. From this height, the problems that had seemed insurmountable appeared manageable, each challenge merely a puzzle to be solved by a queen who had survived fire, betrayal, and now, reunion.


    Drogon''s distant roar echoed across the sky, a reminder that she wasn''t entirely without family.


    She still had one child who had returned to her. One connection to the magic that had changed her life forever.


    **


    **


    **


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 [103] Dornish Sands

    Chapter 103: Dornish Sands


    ¡ª


    The evening breeze carried the scent of salt and spice through the open balcony doors of Arianne''s chambers. She lounged against the cushioned window seat, absently twirling a copper strand of her hair between her fingers as she gazed across Sunspear''s sprawling architecture to the Narrow Sea beyond.


    The waters glittered orange and gold in the setting sun, deceptively peaceful compared to the storm brewing in her heart.


    All those years listening to Father''s caution, his patience, his endless waiting¡ªand for what?


    Arianne shifted restlessly, pulling her silk robe tighter around her shoulders. The political landscape had transformed so rapidly over the past few months. Viserys Targaryen¡ªonce dismissed as the mad beggar king¡ªnow commanded Westeros from the Iron Throne, with a dragon at his call and the might of the Reach and North behind him. And instead of seizing this opportunity, her father had chosen another path entirely.


    "Aegon," she murmured to the empty room, the name tasting bitter on her tongue. "A boy with silver hair who appears from nowhere, and suddenly he''s Rhaegar''s son risen from the dead?"


    She didn''t believe any of that bullshit.


    If not for these useless men, I would have been his Queen! She grumbled out loud. Because her father had gone against Viserys¡¯ command, she''d lost her opportunity at becoming Queen.


    To a naive little Stark girl and a Tyrell slut, no less.


    She thought of the letter she''d penned weeks earlier, written in haste and sealed with dread. A warning to Viserys about her father''s shifting allegiance, about the Sand Snakes. Had it reached him? Had it mattered?


    She''d risked much by sending it, defying her father''s carefully laid schemes. And he¡­ he didn''t even bother to visit. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    She sighed. ¡°Well, not like I don''t understand his position, but¡­¡±


    He really married two random women, after promising her so much?


    Somehow, she couldn''t hate him though. Because it wasn''t his fault. It was her¡­ useless, wheelchair bound Father¡¯s


    ¡°So irritating.¡± Her eyes drifted to the secret compartment in her dresser where she kept her personal correspondence. None had returned from King''s Landing. Either Viserys had chosen not to respond in fear that she''d be caught, or perhaps worse, her messenger had been intercepted.


    That would¡­ make sense, actually.


    Arianne rose with fluid grace, bare feet silent on the cool tile floor as she approached her balcony.


    Far in the distance, the Shadow City pulsed with evening activity¡ªmerchants closing their stalls, taverns opening their doors, the endless dance of Dornish life continuing unaware of the political machinations that would determine their futures.


    "Father doesn''t trust me," she whispered to the breeze, frustration sharpening her words. "After everything, he still keeps his deepest plans from me."


    Did that mean he found the letter, and that was why he didn''t trust her with information?


    Prince Doran had revealed only the barest outlines of his strategy¡ªenough to know he favored the supposed Aegon, but not enough to understand why. Not enough to counter his arguments effectively. He''d treated her like a willful child rather than his heir.


    And perhaps he was right to do so.


    The thought stung, but Arianne couldn''t deny its truth. Had she not betrayed his confidence by warning Viserys? Had she not allowed her personal feelings to interfere with House Martell''s strategy?


    She was so confused. So¡­ desperate. Her father, despite his weaknesses, was still that. Her Father. She didn''t want him to die¡­ but the stuff he was doing was only going to warrant that.


    ¡°Dammit,¡± she pressed her palms against the stone balustrade, feeling its rough warmth beneath her skin.


    What unsettled her most wasn''t the politics. It was how often her thoughts returned to Viserys himself. The way his eyes had fixed on hers when they''d first met, the way he''d shattered her lowly expectations, the power in his movements during the duel, the hunger in his kiss¡­.


    She''d meant to use those moments to her advantage, to secure her position, yet somehow...


    I became the one ensnared.


    Arianne closed her eyes, remembering their last encounter. His arrogance should have repelled her. His dismissal of her should have ended any attraction. Yet what lingered wasn''t resentment but longing¡ªa desire to match her fire against his, to prove herself his equal.


    "Foolish girl," she chided herself. "Thinking with your cunt instead of your head."


    Her duty was clear, to be honest. To stand with House Martell, support her father''s decision. This Aegon¡ªreal or false¡ªwas the path her father had chosen. The path of vengeance for Elia and her children. The path that might return Dorne to glory.


    That was what she ¡°should¡± have done.


    But Aegon himself... Arianne grimaced. She''d found nothing compelling about the young man during their brief introduction a few weeks ago.


    He seemed pleasant enough, handsome certainly, but he lacked the presence, the raw authority that Viserys commanded. He was polite. But he felt hollow somehow¡­ She didn''t think it''d change even if he had a dragon under his command.


    "Father chose him without consulting me," she muttered. "Makes his plans, signs his agreements, all the while telling me I''ll rule Dorne someday."


    She laughed. It was a sound without humor. "Rule what? The empty shell left after he''s committed us to someone else''s war?"


    Did he truly consider her his heir, or merely a piece to be moved across the board when convenient?


    Arianne was fairly confident Dorne would perish if it continued going against the Dragon King.


    But yeah¡­ then again, he was right not to trust me completely. The thought surfaced unbidden. She felt guilty. I betrayed his confidence at the first opportunity.


    She stared up at the sky.


    Loyalty to her house warred with her growing feelings for Viserys. Duty battled desire. The princess she was raised to be argued fiercely with the woman she had become.


    Arianne paced back into her chamber, conflicting emotions churning inside her.


    She paused at her writing desk, fingers hovering over a half-written letter. It was another message to Viserys explaining her position more fully. Would sending it be another betrayal? Or the wisest course to protect Dorne when the dragons inevitably clashed?


    ¡ª Roarrghhhh!


    The sudden, distant roar split the evening air like thunder.


    Arianne froze, her heart leaping into her throat. That sound¡ªimpossible yet unmistakable. She''d heard it once before, when Viserys had revealed his golden dragon in the training yard.


    She rushed to the balcony, silk robe fluttering behind her like wings.


    Her eyes scanned the darkening sky, wide with anticipation. Another roar echoed across Sunspear, closer now, sending vibrations through the stone beneath her feet.


    "...Is it him?" she whispered, her pulse quickening as a golden shape materialized against the sunset clouds.


    ****


    Dorne sprawled beneath me like a lover''s body draped in silks of amber and gold.


    The setting sun painted the desert landscape in hues no artist could capture¡ªsand dunes rippling like waves frozen in time, rocky outcroppings casting long shadows across the barren beauty, and the occasional patch of green where stubborn life insisted on thriving despite the harsh conditions.


    Sunspear itself rose from this artwork like a crown, its towers gleaming with the last light of day.


    I leaned forward on Viserion''s back, savoring the wind against my face. Flying never grew tiresome. The utter freedom, the power, the perspective it granted¡ªall of it reminded me how far I''d come from that pathetic, desperate prince I once was.


    The journey from Meereen had been long but necessary. My sister was secured, humbled, her power brought to heel under mine. Now I needed to resolve this issue with the false Aegon before it festered.


    Given Young Griff¡¯s connection with Doran, his presence in Dorne was likely. Along with my missing dragon, Rhaegal.


    If Prince Doran had indeed chosen to back this pretender over me despite our previous understanding, I''d need to address that betrayal swiftly and decisively.


    If Faegon was here, today Dorne would burn hotter than ever before.


    Ideally, I''d find him, kill him, and reclaim Rhaegal without destroying Dorne in the process. While the betraying fools had to be punished, the common people shouldn''t be. Even in Yunkai and Astapor, I tried my best to do minimal damage.


    The Martells were useful allies¡ªor at least, they had been. Arianne''s letters had hinted at her father''s wavering loyalty, though her own feelings toward me remained... complicated. I smiled at the memory of her fierce stubbornness clashing with her obvious desire.


    If I could secure her allegiance separately from her father''s, she''d be a valuable member of the board.


    "Circle lower," I commanded Viserion, scanning the sprawling palace complex below for any sign of Rhaegal''s distinctive green scales. Viserion could also feel his presence through smell or something.


    Viserion obliged, her massive wings beating steadily as we descended. The air grew warmer as we approached the palace, carrying with it the scents of spice and salt that characterized this southern kingdom.


    ¡°Anything, Viserion?¡± I asked, focusing on the bond we shared.


    "No dragons," she replied, disappointment evident in her thoughts. "Would like to... save... green brother."


    I sighed, frustration building in my chest. This search was proving fruitless. Aegon and Rhaegal likely weren''t here. And I couldn''t really burn it all without being sure since I was on a search.


    It''d be too cocky to land in the palace and question Doran about it. I was strong, incredibly so, but invincible?


    Against a thousand soldiers, even I¡¯d fall.


    Historically, Dorne was the only place where humans killed a dragon. I couldn''t risk hastiness.


    "Let''s head to King¡¯s Landing," I decided aloud. "We''ll return first, and deal with the Dornish situation with an official decree. Maybe Robb Stark''s scouts will have better information."


    If not, my next destination would be Pentos. That was where Illyrio Mopatis lived. Faegon could have gone there too.


    Viserion banked smoothly, preparing to turn northward when a voice carried up from below, clear despite the distance.


    ¡°Hey! YOU!¡± A feminine voice shouted desperately. "Leaving ALREADY?! Without even greeting your beloved?!!¡±


    I recognized Arianne''s voice instantly. My eyes narrowed as I spotted her on a palace balcony, her dark silhouette unmistakable against the pale stone. Her beautiful body, draped in red, was enough to make any lesser man drool.


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    A plan formed in my mind, quick and dangerous and perfect.


    Without hesitation, I stood on Viserion''s back, balancing with practiced ease.


    "I''ll be right back," I instructed Viserion. "Be ready."


    I leapt from Viserion''s back, the wind rushing past my ears as I plummeted toward the palace. My wings unfurled with a snap, the leathery appendages catching the air and transforming my fall into a controlled descent.


    I watched Arianne''s expression shift from surprise to astonishment as I approached her balcony. Her mouth formed a perfect "O," her eyes wide with wonder.


    The rush of power that came with such reactions never grew old.


    I landed on the balcony''s edge with barely a sound, my wings extending to their full span behind me. Arianne stepped backward instinctively, her silk robe fluttering around her curves.


    "Your father chose poorly," I said softly, stepping toward her. "But you knew that already, didn''t you, Princess?"


    Fear crossed her face. For a moment, she must have thought I was going to kill her.


    ¡°I''m joking, Princess,¡± I said. Before she could respond, I moved forward in a blur, wrapping one arm around her waist and lifting her effortlessly into the air. Her surprised gasp warmed my neck as we launched from the balcony, my wings carrying us upward with powerful beats.


    "You madman!" Arianne exclaimed, her arms clutching around my neck, laughter mixing with genuine alarm. "You''ve just kidnapped a Princess of Dorne!"


    Below us, shouts of alarm rose from the palace guards who''d witnessed our departure. Too late.


    I smirked, tightening my grip as we spiraled higher into the darkening sky. "Consider it tactical kidnapping. Maybe now your father will finally come to his senses." I met her eyes, allowing my voice to soften slightly. "Besides, I''ve missed you. I''ve missed these curves.¡±


    ¡°Why, your wives don''t have it?¡± she asked, hitting my chest softly as she feigned anger.


    Viserion dived towards us from above the clouds, her massive form blocking out the emerging stars. Her eyes narrowed in what almost resembled a dragon''s scowl as she recognized Arianne in my arms.


    "Hold tight," I warned Arianne as we approached my dragon.


    I landed smoothly on Viserion''s back, settling Arianne before me. She trembled slightly¡ªfrom excitement or fear, I couldn''t tell. Perhaps both.


    Her body fit perfectly against mine as I secured her with one arm while gripping Viserion with the other.


    "To King''s Landing," I commanded, and Viserion banked northward, leaving Sunspear and its confused guards behind.


    It felt good to kidnap a Princess.


    **


    **


    **

 [104] The Games We Play

    Chapter 104: The Games We Play


    ¡ª


    The wind sliced past us, cold and clean, carrying the scent of evening.


    Arianne''s hair whipped wildly against my chest as Viserion''s wings beat steadily through the night sky. Her red silk robe fluttered dangerously, threatening to tear away completely against Viserion''s scales. That thought brought a smile to my face.


    Below us, the darkening landscape of Westeros spread out like a living map¡ªthe red mountains of Dorne gradually giving way to rolling plains, forests, and rivers, all bathed in the pink-gold light of approaching dawn.


    The world looked small from up here.


    Kingdoms reduced to patches of color, castles to specks of stone, and armies to mere ants.


    Arianne''s knuckles remained white where they gripped my arm. Despite her initial bold words at Sunspear, the reality of dragon flight had left her speechless for the first hour of our journey.


    Her body trembled against mine¡ªfrom cold, fear, or excitement, I couldn''t quite tell. Perhaps all three.


    "First time seeing the world from a dragon''s back," I murmured near her ear, my lips brushing against her skin. "How does it feel to fly, Princess?"


    Her laugh vibrated against my chest, half-terrified, half-exhilarated as she turned her head slightly.


    "Like¡­ nothing I imagined!" she shouted over the rushing wind. "It''s... magnificent and terrifying."


    ¡°Isn''t it?¡±


    She hesitated, her silver eyes meeting mine with a flash of defiance. "Though I''d appreciate not being abducted next time."


    "I''m pretty you this is what you wanted," I said, guiding Viserion into a gentle bank that made Arianne gasp and press herself more firmly against me. "Your eyes tell me you''re enjoying this more than you''re admitting."


    Beneath us, the landscape transitioned from the arid Dornish Marches to the verdant fields of the Reach. Highgarden would be somewhere to the west, the seat of House Tyrell¡ªmy allies, and the family of one of my brides. I wondered briefly what Margaery would make of my newest guest.


    We could directly go to King''s Landing, but I was putting on a show.


    My first impression of Arianne wasn''t the best, but given her choice of betraying her father for me, I saw her in a much more favourable light than before.


    For instance, Sansa and Margaery would never betray their parents, their nations, for me. Not yet, anyway.


    Gradually, Arianne''s body relaxed against mine, her natural curiosity overcoming her fear. She leaned slightly to peer over Viserion''s side, watching as a hawk far below scattered in panic at our shadow.


    "Um, so,¡± she said, not meeting my eyes, ¡°Why did you come to Dorne?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of worry.


    ¡°Your fianc¨¦ stole one of my dragons,¡± I said. ¡°He misused my dear sister''s trust, stupid as it might have been on her part, and fled with a dragon. I thought he''d be in Dorne given your father''s allegiance to him.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± she didn''t have the courage to meet my eyes.


    "Princess," I allowed my voice to drop lower, my arm tightening around her waist. "Your father chose poorly. You know that. It irritates me that he''s helping this fake Aegon.¡±


    Her body stiffened against me, her spine suddenly rigid. Suddenly, she didn''t seem to enjoy the flight anymore. "...So what will happen to Dorne now?"


    The question carried the weight of her position. The heir to a now-rebellious kingdom. She gently turned her head, fearful eyes locking with mine.


    "Will you¡­ burn us like Yunkai and Astapor?" Fear and defiance mingled in her voice. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Rather than answering immediately, I tilted her chin up with my free hand, capturing her lips in a slow, possessive kiss.


    The intimacy somehow contrasted sharply with our precarious position thousands of feet above the ground. For a moment she resisted, but when she realized she didn''t have to resist, she melted against me with practiced ease. Her hand slid up to lock around my neck.


    "If I wanted Dorne in ashes," I said against her lips when we parted, "I wouldn''t have bothered kidnapping the princess. I''d have simply burned everything on sight."


    ¡°....¡±


    My eyes locked with hers. "No, I have other plans for Dorne. For you. Tell your father when you next meet him. His nation only survived because I fancy his gorgeous daughter.¡±


    Arianne''s cheeks grew red. Her silver eyes flashed with a mixture of relief, ambition, and lingering wariness. "I¡­ You''re a liar.¡± She bit her lips. ¡°Why else did you marry two random bitches? I warned you about Father''s schemes. I thought you abandoned me despite all that.¡±


    "Can I ever? Your loyalty will never be forgotten." I brushed a windswept strand of dark hair from her face, feeling the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. "Nor will your father''s betrayal."


    Her playfulness vanished once again as she swallowed. I could see the conflict within her¡ªtorn between familial duty and personal survival. It was one of the things I found most intriguing about her.


    Unlike Margaery with her unshakable political ambition or Sansa with her desperate need for security, Arianne walked a more complex line. Fiercely loyal to Dorne yet willing to defy her father''s plans for her own vision of its future.


    Although she was a stubborn girl, she had the qualities of a ruler.


    "So what happens when we reach King''s Landing?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.


    "You''ll be my prisoner, duh. The honored guest of my bedroom," I said, the words carrying multiple meanings that weren''t lost on her. Her face reddened again. "Let your father worry about what that entails."


    Arianne hit me on the chest softly, leaning her face into my neck. She was about to say something when Viserion suddenly banked sharply toward a cloud formation, causing Arianne to gasp and clutch me tighter. I smiled, enjoying both her fear and the press of her body against mine.


    The dragon seemed to understand my thoughts, deliberately making the ride more thrilling.


    "Tell me, Princess," I whispered into her ear, "did you ever truly think you''d be queen? Or was that just a pleasant fiction?"


    Her eyes narrowed. "I was born to rule, just as you were. The difference is that I haven''t had the chance yet,¡± she said. She crossed her arms and looked away. ¡°It doesn''t matter if you marry me or not. I would still become a queen, the ruler of Dorne.¡±


    "Highlady, more like," I said, ¡°I''m gonna pull your little kingdom into the fold.¡±


    ¡°....¡± She stayed quiet. Viserion dived through a cloud bank, momentarily surrounding us in cold mist.


    Arianne''s startled cry turned into a breathless laugh as we emerged, the sun now fully risen above the horizon.


    Hours passed as we enjoyed ourselves in between small talks and serious ones.


    Now, the Blackwater Bay glittered in the distance, King''s Landing rising from its shores like a crown of stone.


    "Mhm," Arianne said, her voice low and throaty, "It doesn''t look half bad. Sunspear is much better, though."


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said. She was bold, even after being kidnapped. It would either be her greatest strength or her downfall.


    As Viserion began her descent toward the Red Keep, I felt Arianne''s heartbeat quicken against my chest. "Don''t worry, Princess. I imagine you''ll find the capital quite accommodating."


    "I''m not worried," she replied, though her grip betrayed her. "Just wondering which of your wives I''ll be wearing the clothes of tonight, since you didn''t exactly give me time to pack."


    I laughed, the sound carrying away on the wind as the towers of the Red Keep grew larger beneath us. "Perhaps you''ll be wearing none at all."


    "I''ve heard worse fates," she retorted, and despite everything, I laughed once again.


    ****


    The dawn sun bathed the world in orange. Viserion''s massive shadow fell across the Red Keep''s central courtyard, causing guards to scramble into defensive positions.


    The golden dragon circled once before descending with surprising grace, her wings creating gusts that sent servants scattering. Scrolls and linens danced through the air, and a small dog barked frantically before running for cover.


    I dismounted first, feeling the satisfying crunch of gravel beneath my boots. Then I turned to lift Arianne down with deliberate showmanship, my hands lingering at her waist.


    The courtyard had fallen silent, all eyes fixed on us¡ªthe Dragon King and his unexpected companion.


    Arianne stood unsteadily, still dressed in her silk Dornish nightclothes, her dark hair wild from the flight. She straightened her spine, lifting her chin with practiced dignity despite her disheveled state.


    Guards stared openly at us, and I saw more than one taking in the outline of her body beneath the thin fabric.


    "Welcome to King''s Landing, Princess," I said loudly enough for all to hear. "I trust you''ll find the hospitality here superior to Sunspear''s."


    Before she could respond, the courtyard doors swung open with dramatic timing, revealing Margaery Tyrell. She advanced with practiced grace, wearing an elegant green gown embroidered with golden roses. Her chestnut curls were arranged in the latest King''s Landing fashion, and a delicate golden circlet rested on her brow¡ªnot quite a crown, but a clear statement of her aspirations.


    Her eyes fell on Arianne for a moment before she looked at me. While her smile was genuine to most observers, I noted the calculation behind her eyes as she took in the scene before her.


    "My beloved husband returns," Margaery announced, dipping into a perfect curtsy before rising to kiss my cheek. Her lips lingered a moment longer than necessary. "We had no word of your arrival. I would have prepared a proper welcome."


    Her gaze slid to Arianne, taking in the disheveled appearance and unmistakable Dornish features. "And with a guest, I see."


    "Princess Arianne Martell," I introduced, watching Margaery''s reaction carefully. The slight tightening around her eyes told me everything I needed to know. "She''ll be staying with us until decided otherwise.¡±


    "Princess Arianne," Margaery''s voice remained melodious despite the tension vibrating between the two women. "What an unexpected pleasure. We heard nothing of a Dornish delegation."


    "There was no delegation," Arianne replied, lifting her chin. The morning sun caught her silver eyes, making them flash like polished steel. "His Grace found me... irresistible company for his journey. And abducted from my balcony. I fear my father is having trouble breathing by now.¡±


    I look forward to that. That was the plan. Doran would get worked up and contact me, and then I''d see what that spineless bastard could do.


    The two women measured each other with polite smiles that didn''t reach their eyes.


    "That sounds unfortunate," Margaery said, looping her arm through mine possessively. Her fingers pressed into my forearm with slightly more force than necessary. "We must arrange suitable chambers immediately. The dungeons? Or Perhaps in the Maidenvault? It''s quite... secure."


    "No. The royal wing would be more appropriate," I corrected mildly. "The Princess is our most distinguished guest, after all. No matter if she''s the daughter of an opposing nation.¡±


    "...Of course, my love," Margaery agreed, though her smile tightened fractionally. "I only thought the Maidenvault might offer more privacy. The royal wing can be so busy with activity."


    A commotion at the doorway drew our attention as Sansa Stark emerged, her auburn hair gleaming like copper in the morning light.


    Unlike Margaery''s calculated entrance, Sansa''s surprise was genuine as she took in the scene before her. Her Tully-blue eyes widened at the sight of Arianne.


    "Your Grace," she curtsied to me before her gaze fixed on Arianne''s exotic appearance. "I... we weren''t expecting your return so soon."


    I extended my free arm to Sansa, painting a picture of power for all the courtyard to see¡ªthe Dragon King flanked by two queens-in-waiting, with the Dornish princess standing separate. "Lady Sansa, meet Princess Arianne of House Martell."


    Sansa''s courtesies were perfect but her discomfort obvious. "Uh, yes¡­ Welcome to King''s Landing, Princess."


    ¡°Thank you, both.¡± Arianne studied both women with interest, quickly assessing the dynamic. "Lady Stark, Lady Tyrell. I''ve heard much about the king''s gorgeous brides."


    Her emphasis on the final word carried just enough insolence to make Margaery''s cheeks flush slightly. They weren''t Queens but rather brides. In that sense, Arianne''s position was no less than theirs, as the Princess of a nation of her own.


    "And we''ve heard of you too," Margaery countered smoothly. "The princess who would be the ruler of sands. How disappointing that must be."


    "Not as disappointing as sharing a husband with another woman," Arianne replied, her smile sharp as a dagger. "Though I suppose it''s less crowded than sharing with an entire court, as I hear was Lady Margaery''s experience with her first husband."


    Margaery''s smile didn''t falter, but her eyes hardened to flint. "...You do realize what you''re saying, correct? The king is right here.¡±


    ¡°That''s true, Arianne,¡± I shot her a look. ¡°Such behaviour warrants punishment.¡±


    "Oh?" Arianne purred. "I don''t understand why Your Grace is threatening me with a good time..."


    Some of the guards gasped at that.


    The air between the three women crackled with unspoken challenge. I observed with amusement¡ªthere was nothing more entertaining than watching skilled players test each other''s defenses. And all three were remarkably skilled, in their own ways.


    After a moment of silence, Sansa cleared her throat delicately. "Princess Arianne must be exhausted from her journey. Perhaps we should show her to her chambers?"


    "How thoughtful, Lady Stark," Arianne said, her tone softening slightly. "Though I seem to have arrived with only what I''m wearing. I left Dorne rather... abruptly."


    "I''m sure we can find something suitable," Sansa offered, her natural courtesy overcoming her wariness.


    "Something of mine, perhaps," Margaery suggested with a gracious smile that didn''t reach her eyes. "Though I fear they may be a bit loose in certain areas."


    Arianne burst out laughing. "I doubt that," she responded pleasantly. "But thank you for the kind offer. However, I think His Grace would love to show me around on his own first.¡±


    "Yes. Princess Arianne requires rest and fresh attire after our journey," I announced, intervening before the barbs could escalate further. ¡°I''ll show her around, you two can rest assured.¡±


    The two girls fell silent, exchanging a look. Perhaps they''d bond over it.


    I led Arianne inside. While behind us, courtiers whispered among themselves, already spreading word of the Dornish princess''s arrival and the tense exchange between the three women.


    This silly game of thrones had taken yet another unpredictable turn, this time by my design.


    I was curious how amusing the next few days would be.


    Spoiler


    [collapse]


    **


    **


    **

 [105] Games of Desire

    Chapter 105: Games of Desire


    ¡ª


    I guided Arianne through the torch-lit corridors of the Red Keep, her bare feet padding softly on the stone floors. The morning light streamed through the high windows, casting long shadows as servants scurried past with downcast eyes that darted up the moment they thought we weren''t looking.


    The courtyard murmur faded behind us as stone walls swallowed our footsteps. Arianne hugged my arm, her hips brushed against mine with calculated precision each time the corridor narrowed. Her breath warmed my neck as she leaned close to examine a dragon skull mounted on the wall, fingertips grazing charred bone where Balerion''s fire had once raged.


    "For a prisoner," she mused, her words a warm pulse against my ear, "you grant me interesting liberties, Your Grace. Showing me around and all.¡±


    Guards snapped to attention as we passed, eyes fixed straight ahead. Their discipline frayed at the edges¡ªone young recruit''s gaze lingered too long on the silk clinging to Arianne''s hips before I snapped my fingers. He flinched, crimson flooding his cheeks as he jerked his head forward.


    Arianne laughed, the sound rich and dark as Dornish wine. "Poor boy. Your servants lack subtlety," Arianne remarked, her voice low enough that only I could hear. "In Dorne, they at least pretend not to stare."


    "Somehow I doubt that, given how horny your people are,¡± I said. ¡°Or maybe it''s because they''re always horny and have a bit too much sex, they become numb to whorish dresses like yours.¡±


    ¡°Hey~ that''s rude.¡±


    ¡°On the other hand, my people are simply curious about the woman who arrived on dragonback," I replied, enjoying the way her silk robe fluttered around her curves as she walked. "It''s not every day their king returns with a Dornish princess in her nightclothes."


    We passed an artwork depicting Aegon the Conqueror atop Balerion, raining fire upon his enemies. Arianne paused, studying it with an unreadable expression. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "...Is that what you intend for Dorne?" she asked, silver eyes reflecting the torchlight. "Fire and blood?"


    I placed my hand at her waist, guiding her forward. "That depends entirely on your father."


    Two Kingsguard stood at attention outside my chambers, one a head taller than the other. ¡°Lady Commander,¡± I greeted Brienne of Tarth. ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you guard my empty chambers.¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± she cleared her throat, straightening her back. ¡°Welcome back, Your Grace. And I apologize. I¡¯m new at this, so I didn¡¯t know what to do in your absence.¡±


    ¡°No need to apologize. This is Arianne Martel, our captive. In the future, be sure she doesn''t escape,¡± I said, making the darkskinned princess giggle.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to keep an eye,¡± Brienne nodded.


    ¡°Great. Now, I¡¯d like some privacy,¡± I said and with a slight nod, I dismissed them, watching as they retreated down the corridor.


    Their armor clinked softly as they departed, leaving us in momentary silence.


    I pushed open the heavy oak door, revealing the royal apartments within. Arianne stepped past me, her eyes widening slightly as she took in her surroundings¡ªthe massive bed draped in black and red silks, the dragon motifs carved into every surface, the balcony offering an unrivaled view of King''s Landing and the bay beyond.


    "Not bad," she admitted, trailing her fingers along a silver dragon statuette. "Though the dragon theme might be a touch excessive."


    I closed the door behind us, the heavy latch falling into place with a satisfying thunk. "Says the woman whose homeland is decorated with spears and suns."


    "We Dornish are nothing if not consistent." She moved through the space with deliberate confidence, examining paintings and furnishings with an appraiser''s eye. The morning light streaming through the balcony doors caught in her dark hair, highlighting strands of copper.


    "You''ll have your own chambers later," I said, watching her explore. "Perhaps adjacent to these, with a connecting door. Suitable for a princess, if not quite as grand as what you''re accustomed to in Sunspear."


    Arianne turned to face me, her head tilted slightly. "How thoughtful. And will you lock that connecting door at night?"


    "Would it matter if I did?"


    A smile played on her lips. "Locks are merely suggestions in Dorne."


    Before I could respond, she moved toward me with surprising swiftness. Her hands found my wrists, and with a graceful motion that caught me off guard, she pulled me toward the bed. I allowed it, curious where her boldness would lead.


    We tumbled onto the mattress, her beneath me, her silk robe parting to reveal the smooth bronze skin of her chest and the dark peak of one nipple. Her silver eyes shone with challenge as she bit her lower lip, arching slightly beneath me.


    "What exactly do you think you''re doing, Princess?" I asked, supporting my weight on my forearms as I looked down at her.


    "Exploring my accommodations," she replied innocently, though her fingers had begun tracing patterns on my chest. "The bed seems comfortable enough. I wouldn''t want to complain to my... captor."


    Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips as her other hand slid up my arm to my shoulder. It was amusing, so I didn¡¯t stop her. "So tell me, Your Grace. Do you always kidnap women from their homes, or am I special?"


    I chuckled, feeling her body shift beneath mine. "Only the ones who write me secret letters betraying their King Fathers."


    "Mmm, and here I thought it was my winning personality."


    Her legs parted slightly, allowing me to settle more comfortably between them. The thin silk of her robe did little to hide the heat of her body.


    "Maybe I just wanted to see how your father would react," I said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.


    She pouted, a deliberate, practiced gesture. "Your words keep hurting me. Here I was hoping you wanted me all for yourself... daddy."


    The word, delivered with her exotic Dornish accent and accompanied by a deliberate roll of her hips, sent an unexpected jolt through me.


    I raised an eyebrow, surprised by her boldness. She''d called me the same the first time I fucked her, but this time it was sweeter to the ears.


    "Your actual father would have a heart attack if he heard you speak that way," I said, watching her expression carefully.


    "Not if I please you properly, daddy," she purred, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. Her fingers slid into my hair, pulling me closer until our lips were mere inches apart. "Isn''t that what good little princesses do?"


    I could smell the spice and citrus scent of her skin, feel the warmth of her breath against my lips. "And are you a good little princess, Arianne?"


    "Why don''t you find out?" she challenged, then closed the distance between us.


    Her lips were soft but insistent, tasting of Dornish wine and desert heat. The kiss deepened as her fingers tightened in my hair, her body arching against mine with desire. I could feel the rapid beat of her heart, the heat of her skin through the thin silk.


    When we finally broke apart, her silver eyes were dark with desire, but that calculating intelligence remained. It was watching, assessing, planning.


    Her passion was genuine, that was for sure, but she also meant it when she said she wanted to please me.


    She wanted to please me so that I wouldn''t obliterate her nation.


    And that, perhaps, made her one of the most delicious of all my conquests.


    ****


    Arianne''s fingers traced the contours of Viserys''s chest, her touch featherlight yet deliberate. Her silver eyes held his gaze with a boldness few in the Seven Kingdoms would dare.


    Without breaking eye contact, she twisted her position. She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, her silk robe sliding further open.


    "Let me please you," she whispered, her Dornish accent thickening with desire. "Let me show you what a princess from the south can do."


    She lowered her head, pressing her lips against his neck, trailing kisses down to his collarbone. Her fingers worked the fastenings of his doublet with practiced ease, revealing more of his pale skin with each movement.


    Viserys watched with amusement as she undressed him, her fingers nimble despite their trembling eagerness. When his chest was bare, she moaned. ¡°Mhm¡­ how do you even even more gorgeous now?¡±


    ¡°Training,¡± he said.


    She traced the defined muscles with reverent fingertips before lowering her mouth to his skin.


    Her tongue left hot, wet trails across his torso, pausing to circle each nipple before continuing downward.


    "Beautiful," she murmured, lowering her head to trace her tongue along the ridges of his abdomen. "My dragon king. You taste like power," she murmured against his abdomen, her teeth grazing lightly over his skin.


    Viserys tangled his fingers in her hair, enjoying the silky texture. "Is that what you crave, Princess? Power?"


    She looked up at him through her lashes, her smile wicked. "Among other things... daddy."


    He chuckled at her boldness, then gripped her waist and flipped her onto her back in one fluid motion. The thin silk of her robe had ridden up to her thighs, revealing more of her curves but still preserving the tantalizing mystery beneath.


    He made no move to remove it. The clothes made her look even more beautiful.


    "So eager to please," he murmured, his hands exploring the soft flesh of her thighs, her hips, her waist. "Such a desperate little princess."


    Arianne arched into his touch, her breath catching as his fingers skimmed over her breasts through the silk. "Only for you," she gasped, her hips lifting involuntarily when his thumb brushed against her clit. "Only for my king."


    Viserys lowered his head to capture her mouth again, swallowing her moans as his fingers continued their exploration. He could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric, the dampness already gathering there.


    Without warning, he gripped her hips and yanked her toward his face, positioning her legs over his shoulders. Her robe still covered her, and he ducked his head beneath the silk, his breath hot against her inner thighs.


    "Oh gods, what are you doing?" Arianne whimpered, her fingers clutching at the bedsheets. "Please, Your Grace¡ª"


    His tongue found her center, and her words dissolved into a high, keening moan. Her thighs trembled against his shoulders as he worked his tongue, alternating between gentle laps and firm strokes that made her entire body jerk.


    "V-vis," she gasped, her voice breaking. "Oh... oh gods... like that... don''t stop..."


    Her hips bucked against his face as he intensified his efforts, his hands gripping her thighs to hold her in place. The silk of her robe tented over his head, creating an intimate cocoon of heat and desire.


    "I can''t... I''m going to..." Arianne''s words came in broken fragments as her body tensed. Her back arched off the bed, her moans growing louder, more desperate. "Please... please... oh GODS!"


    Her release washed over her in waves, her body convulsing as she cried out. Viserys continued his ministrations, drawing out her pleasure until she collapsed back onto the mattress, chest heaving with each ragged breath.


    When he emerged from beneath her robe, her face was flushed, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. But there was still hunger there, a need not yet fully sated.


    "Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse.l as she watched him wipe his lips. "Let me taste you now. Let me use my mouth for you... I need it... I need to please you properly."


    Viserys stood, his fingers working at the laces of his breeches. "Since you ask so sweetly, Princess."


    Arianne''s eyes widened as he freed himself, her lips parting in surprise. "I think you''re bigger than before... ngh..." she moaned just at the sight, her tongue darting out to wet her lips in anticipation.


    He moved to the edge of the bed, gripping her by the neck and positioning her so her head hung over the side. Her dark hair spilled toward the floor as she gazed up at him, her throat exposed and vulnerable.


    "Open," he commanded, and she obeyed immediately, her lips parting to receive him.


    Viserys pushed forward, watching as her mouth stretched around him. The wet heat of her throat enveloped him as he pressed deeper, feeling her gag reflex flutter against his length. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, but her hands reached up to grip his thighs, urging him deeper.


    "Such a good princess you are, Arianne," he growled, beginning to thrust. "Taking your owner¡¯s cock so well. I''m going to own your little nation soon. How does it feel choking on my cock knowing that?¡±


    Her mind throbbed with pleasure, and she was in no position to reply. Ang attempt made mer moan harder, as she felt her pussy twitch. He withdrew, and then he slammed back inside. Arianne¡¯s sense of reality blurred.


    Each thrust pushed him deeper into her throat, the tight, wet passage gripping him like a silken vise. Saliva pooled at the corners of her mouth, trickling down her cheeks as he established a relentless rhythm. Her throat bulged with each thrust, her eyes watering more profusely as she struggled to accommodate him.


    Yet she never pushed him away. Her hands remained on his thighs, her silver eyes locked on massive cock coming in and out of her mouth even as tears streamed from them. His hand roamed her body, feeling her boobs, pinching her nipples. The wet, obscene sounds of her throat working around him filled the chamber, punctuated by his grunts and her muffled moans.


    As his pleasure built, Viserys increased his pace, his fingers tightening in her hair. Arianne''s eyes began to roll back, her consciousness narrowing to the single point where they were joined. Her throat convulsed around him, her body trembling with the effort of taking him so deeply.


    With a final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his release pulsing down her throat. He held her there, watching as she struggled to swallow, some of his seed escaping to trickle from her nose.


    ¡°Gah!¡± She gasped when he finally withdrew with a wet pop.


    Arianne lay gasping for breath, her eyes unfocused and glazed. Her lips were swollen and red, glistening with saliva and traces of his seed. Tears had left tracks down her temples into her hair, and her chest heaved with each desperate breath. The silk robe clung to her sweat-dampened skin, outlining every curve of her body.


    She looked utterly debauched, utterly conquered¡ªand utterly beautiful.


    After a moment, she found her voice again, though it was raw and raspy from his use. "I¡­ want it from my pussy too, daddy," she begged, her fingers trailing down her body to spread herself for him. "Please... I need you inside me."


    ¡°Is that so? Alright,¡± Viserys said and climbed onto the bed, flipping her onto her stomach with ease.


    The curve of her back dipped gracefully to the swell of her rounded buttocks, the silk robe bunched around her waist now. Her skin gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat, giving her bronze complexion a golden glow in the morning light.


    Without warning, he gripped her hips and slammed into her, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. Her eyes snapped wide in shock.


    This- how does it feel better than last time?! Her mind whirled as her mouth parted wide.


    Arianne screamed, her fingers clawing at the sheets. "Oh GODS! Fuck! Oh my¡ªso big¡ªdaddyh, you''re so¡ªah!¡ªso deep!"


    Viserys established a brutal pace, his hips slapping against her beautifully shaped ass with each thrust. The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard banging against the wall as he drove into her repeatedly.


    "Sl-slow down," she gasped, her words barely audible between moans. "I can''t¡ªit''s too¡ª"


    Instead of complying, Viserys tangled his fingers in her hair and yanked her head back, arching her spine at a painful angle. "I won''t slow down. Isn''t this what you wanted, Princess?" he growled, increasing his pace. "To be fucked by the Dragon King while your father sits helpless in Sunspear? To be fucked like the little slut you are?"


    "Yes¡­!" she cried, tears streaming down her face again. "Gods, yes! Yes¡ªfuck me¡ªruin me for anyone else! I¡­ make me your slut... your princess slut... AH! RIGHT THERE!"


    Her body shuddered beneath him, her inner walls clenching around his length as another orgasm tore through her. Viserys didn''t slow, continuing his relentless assault on her senses.


    "You... you like this?" she gasped between thrusts, her words fragmented by moans. "You like... fucking that weak... crippled Doran''s daughter? Making me... AH!... call you daddy? Making me... ngh... your whore?"


    The words, filthy and broken, spurred Viserys on. He gripped her hips harder, leaving bruises on the soft flesh as he pounded into her.


    "Yes,¡± she moaned. ¡°I''m daddy''s whore. So tell me... tell me how much... better I am than those two bitch wives of yours," Arianne demanded, her voice rising in pitch as pleasure overwhelmed her. "Tell me... AH!... how much tighter... my Dornish cunt is!"


    Viserys felt his release approaching, his rhythm faltering as pleasure coiled tighter in his core. With a final thrust, he pulled out, his seed spilling across her lower back in hot spurts.


    Arianne collapsed onto the bed, then rolled over to face him, her chest heaving. Even Viserys was panting now, for he''d fucked her wholely.


    Her silver eyes, though glazed with satisfaction, held a challenge as she reached down to spread herself open with her fingers.


    "Why did you cum outside, daddy?" she purred, her voice a hoarse whisper. She spread her soaked folds, fingers jerking open her flushed pink. ¡°Put a dragon in my womb. Let me raise your babies on Dornish gold¡ªlet them dance before Father¡¯s eyes while I keep moaning for you. Please, daddy?¡±


    The sight of her¡ªdisheveled, used, and still begging for more¡ªsent a fresh surge of lust through Viserys.


    With a grumble, he positioned himself between her thighs once more and slammed into her, losing himself in the heat of her body as the day outside turned into night.


    Hours later, she passed out beneath him, breath ragged, lips and cunt swollen and used.


    **


    **


    **


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 [106] Westerosi Politics

    Chapter 106: Westerosi Politics


    ¡ª


    The Water Gardens hummed with the quiet melody of distant fountains and the gentle rustle of orange trees swaying in the breeze. Within Prince Doran Martell''s private solar, that peace transformed into an oppressive silence.


    Doran sat in his wheeled chair beside the open window, the parchment trembling slightly in his gout-ridden hands. The letter''s seal¡ªbroken now¡ªbore the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, though not from the king that ruled the Seven Kingdoms right now.


    Sunlight streamed across the polished marble floor, creating a sharp line between light and shadow that bisected the room. On one side sat Doran, bathed in golden light, and on the other paced his brother. His younger brother was coiled with tension.


    Oberyn Martell''s boots clicked rhythmically against the floor as he moved, the sound breaking the silence like a heartbeat. His dark eyes never left his elder brother''s face, searching for any hint of the thoughts behind that carefully composed mask.


    "Three days," Oberyn said finally, breaking the silence that had stretched between them since the letter''s arrival. "Three days since the Dragon King took her, and not a word from Arianne herself."


    The words were heavy with accusation and fear. Doran''s fingers carefully refolded the letter along its creases, the deliberate motion betraying none of the turmoil beneath. His face remained impassive, though a muscle in his jaw twitched slightly.


    "But plenty of words from others," Doran replied, his voice steady despite everything. "The whole of Dorne whispers about it now¡ªhow the Dragon King plucked their Princess from her balcony." He looked up at his brother, his eyes hardening. "Don''t expect words from her. It''s her fault. She called him from the balcony, and he flew down."


    Oberyn halted mid-stride, his expression darkening. "Maybe we should have put her in a tower without a balcony," he remarked with bitter humor, though there was no delight in his eyes. He resumed his pacing, shadow stretching and contracting as he moved through patches of sunlight. "What does our ''king'' Aegon say about this?"


    The emphasis on "king" carried all the venom the Red Viper was known for. Doran held the letter out to his brother, his movements slow thanks to the pain in his swollen joints.


    "...The boy has made a strategically smart call," Doran said, his tone revealing nothing of his true feelings. "Read for yourself."


    Oberyn snatched the parchment from his brother''s hand, his eyes scanning the flowing script quickly. With each line, his expression darkened further, his lips pressing into a thin line until they nearly disappeared altogether.


    "Brother. This reads to me that our silver-haired hope has abandoned us as quickly as he claimed us," Oberyn said, his voice dangerously quiet.


    Doran said nothing, watching his brother''s rage build with each passing second. The silence extended between them again, broken only by the distant laughter of children playing in the pools outside.


    "He says he''s ''somewhere safe''? Away from trouble? He won''t come to Dorne because Viserys might look for him here?" Oberyn crumpled the parchment in his fist, knuckles whitening with the force of his grip. "You pledged our spears to this boy, brother, and now he hides while my niece is held captive!"


    Doran''s expression remained unchanged, though something flickered behind his eyes¡ªa brief acknowledgment of the truth in his brother''s words.


    "A calculated risk," Doran said quietly, but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. "It makes sense from his position."


    "Forgive me, but are you blind, brother?" Oberyn asked, frustration evident in every line of his body.


    Doran said nothing. The silence itself was an admission.


    "He failed you," Oberyn said sharply, jabbing a finger toward Doran. "I warned you about abandoning Viserys. I warned you the moment we heard he had wings and a dragon. You said everything will be alright when ''Aegon'' takes a dragon of his own. Now he did. And what does he do? Neither of us knows!"


    Prince Doran wheeled his chair away from the window, moving with practiced efficiency toward a map table displaying Dorne and its surroundings. The elaborate cartography showed mountains, passes, coastlines¡ªall the natural defenses that had protected Dorne for centuries. Defenses that meant nothing against a dragon.


    "I''ll admit this doesn''t please me," Doran said, his fingers tracing the outline of Sunspear on the map. "But he must have his reasons. If he were planning to abandon us, he wouldn''t have bothered to write to us. I''ll choose to trust him for now since we''ve already made the decision to go against Viserys." His fingers stilled on the map as he looked up at his brother. "Send an official letter to King''s Landing demanding they return Arianne."


    Oberyn sighed, the sound carrying all the weight of his frustration and worry. "You know why he took Arianne. He won¡¯t just return her to us unless we hand over this Aegon."


    ¡°That is our nephew, Oberyn.¡± Doran turned his gaze back to the window, to the horizon where dark clouds gathered over the Summer Sea. ¡°Since he¡¯s claimed a dragon, that proves his Targaryen blood. We can take this little risk for his sake.¡±


    The distant rumble of thunder echoed the unspoken fears in the room.


    ¡°I don''t like this, brother.¡± Oberyn said after a moment of silence, following his gaze out the window.


    "...Neither do I," Doran replied, gazing at the distant horizon where a storm gathers over the Summer Sea. Bad times might be coming for Dorne, but Doran wasn¡¯t going to keep pretending to be a weakling.


    ****


    I drummed my fingers against the carved surface of the Small Council table, enjoying the momentary silence before the discussions began. The midday sun streamed through the high windows, casting sharp bands of light across the chamber''s stone floor.


    The room smelled faintly of beeswax and parchment, an improvement over the usual stench of the city below. Speaking of, I still gotta fix that. But I need so much gold¡­


    The table before me was now a smaller council than before, but one I could actually trust, more or less. Ros sat to my right, dressed in deep burgundy finery that complemented her copper hair. She''d taken to her role as Mistress of Whispers with remarkable ease. Behind my chair stood Brienne of Tarth, her white Kingsguard armor gleaming in the sunlight, hand resting on her sword hilt. Opposite me, Robb Stark sat with the rigid posture of a man unused to southern politics, but his eyes remained sharp and attentive.


    I''d left several seats deliberately empty. Mace Tyrell was still in Braavos, and Grand Maester Pycelle was notably absent¡ªthe doddering old fool had served too many regimes, and his loyalties were suspect at best. Plus, there was that thing where he had romantic feelings for Tywin¡­ I''d deal with him once I''d secured more trustworthy replacements.


    I fingered the sealed letter bearing the Martell sigil that had arrived that morning, tapping it deliberately on the table.


    "A letter came from Dorne today," I announced, cutting through the formal atmosphere. "By now, I trust everyone has heard about our Dornish guest, so you can guess what the letter contains. Princess Arianne Martell now resides in the Red Keep as our honored hostage."


    Robb Stark''s brow furrowed. Even though he''d learned the southern game quickly enough, he still maintained that refreshing Northern bluntness.


    "Hostage, Your Grace?" he questioned, the words careful but direct. ¡°I heard you and her share a¡­ peculiar relationship, though.¡± Even if Sansa hadn¡¯t told her about it, it would be difficult to miss the moans coming from the King¡¯s bedchambers for three whole days.


    As the brother of my wife, who was also a King, the news didn''t sit well with him. But perhaps out of fear of his sister''s treatment in the future, he didn''t show displeasure outright.


    I smiled. "It''s simply insurance, Robb. It''s a lot easier to keep women in check this way, I''m sorry if my words sound disgusting," I said.


    Brienne of Tarth shifted uncomfortably behind me. Robb just sighed.


    I leaned back in my chair and continued. "Anyhow, the issue is that Prince Doran made the unfortunate decision to support a pretender claiming to be Aegon Targaryen. He''s a thief who stole one of my sister''s dragons. With Arianne here, I now have something of equal value. Somewhat.¡±


    Of course, a mere Dornish Princess would never have the same value as a dragon, but in the political landscape of manipulation, it evened out somewhat.


    More than that, she''s the insurance against burning Dorne to the ground, I thought but didn''t add. Some thoughts were better kept private, even in this smaller council. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    I tapped the sealed letter. "This will likely be a formal demand for his daughter''s return, accompanied by promises and platitudes."


    Then I broke the seal with my thumb, confirming my suspicions as I scanned its contents. "As expected. Doran claims ignorance of any plot against the crown and demands his daughter''s safe return." I set the letter aside. "We''ll let him stew a bit longer."


    Let him feel what it''s like to lose someone precious, I thought. Let him wonder if she''ll return with her head or without it.


    Ros unfurled a scroll of her own, her green eyes scanning its contents with practiced efficiency. "They lie, Your Grace. My little birds confirm it. Dorne has been amassing provisions and weapons at a rate that suggests preparation for significant conflict. They were preparing for war¡ªlikely alongside this ''Aegon.''"


    ¡°Pitiful. I expected a wiser choice from Doran,¡± I nodded. ¡°Keep an eye on that. If they stop that preparation, let me know. Ah, and send a letter to the Second Sons. They can''t stay on the outskirts of Dorne for so long, it''s not a place people can live in. Call them here.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Ros nodded. By now, she had proven herself invaluable, expanding the network of spies left behind by Varys and turning many of them to her¡ªand by extension, my¡ªservice. She also had Petyr Baelish¡¯s spies, of course. The whores were her original eyes and ears. Ros was a great helper of mine whom I appreciated.


    The realm thought her merely a former whore elevated beyond her station. They underestimated her at their peril.


    "What do you plan to do to Dorne, Your Grace?" Brienne asked from behind me, speaking for the first time. Her voice carried that peculiar mix of deference and directness that made her such an effective Commander.


    I turned slightly in my chair, meeting her steadfast gaze. "...I¡¯ll just hope that they will reconsider," I said with a cold smile. "Prince Doran may be crippled, but he''s no fool. He understands what''s at stake. No matter the case, Arianne is his heir. So, I hope for her sake that he reconsiders. If not, then¡­ Well, you heard what Viserion did to Yunkai and Astapor.¡±


    ¡°....¡± The entire chamber fell quiet.


    I turned to Ros, changing the subject to the more annoying culprit. "What news of Varys and this ''Aegon''?"


    She pursed her lips, clearly displeased with her own lack of concrete information. "It''s difficult for me to reach Essos with my birds, Your Grace, I''m sorry," she admitted.


    "How bothersome," I said, feeling anger curl through my chest.


    Rhegal should be here with me, or at least with my sister. Instead, it served some pretender.


    I sighed after a moment. "Oh well. Dorne and Aegon''s situation is merely one concern among many," I continued, my mind shifting to the broader game. "We face threats from beyond the Wall, across the Narrow Sea, and within our own borders."


    ¡°I have something to say on that,¡± Robb Stark straightened, producing a letter bearing the Night''s Watch seal.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± I accepted it.


    The parchment was weathered, suggesting a long journey. "From my brother Jon," he explained, his expression growing grim. "He reports wildlings fleeing south in unprecedented numbers, claiming the dead walk beyond the Wall."


    I raised an eyebrow, watching Stark''s face. I''d warned him about strengthening the wall, and he didn''t understand why before. Hopefully Jon¡¯s words would give him the reason to.


    "Jon himself claims to have encountered and destroyed one such creature," Robb continued, his voice steady despite the fantastical nature of the claim. "A dead man who continued moving and attacking after death. Jon saved the Night¡¯s Watch¡¯s Lord Commander from that creature.¡±


    I feigned my skepticism. "A bold claim from a bastard at the edge of the world.¡±


    His jaw tightened at my tone, Northern pride flashing in his eyes. "Jon Snow is many things, Your Grace, but a liar is not one of them," he countered sharply. "He killed this... wight... with fire. Burned it to ash while it still moved."


    The dragon blood in my veins seemed to warm at the very word ¡®fire¡¯. Just having Viserion would give me an incredible edge against the Wights, although the true white walkers themselves were invulnerable to dragon flames.


    "Fire and dragonglass," I murmured after a moment, recalling the details from the TV show. Even in the history books of Red Keep¡¯s library, they spoke of the Long Night, of ice demons driven back by flame and obsidian weapons. Childish tales, most would say, yet I knew the truth.


    "What was that, Your Grace?" Robb asked since I''d spoken too low.


    "The issue with these ¡®White Walkers¡¯ will be addressed," I assured him, raising a hand to stop his protest. "I''m sending a shipment of dragonglass from Dragonstone to the Wall, along with men to reinforce the Night''s Watch. Dragonglass is a special kind of material that can kill wraiths, and perhaps the White Walkers too.¡±


    The surprise on Stark''s face was almost comical. He clearly hadn''t expected such swift action on what many would consider a fanciful tale.


    "The North thanks you," he said, inclining his head respectfully.


    "Don''t thank me, Robb," I said, leaning forward. "If these creatures are true, as your brother says they are, it''ll be a danger to us all. Let''s take this seriously, yes? And do reinforce the Wall before your brother''s ravens start reporting armies of corpses marching on the Wall."


    If the situation truly worsens, I''ll fly north myself. I thought, imagining Viserion''s flames sweeping across legions of walking corpses.


    Ros cleared her throat delicately. "There is one more matter, Your Grace," she said, producing another scroll. "From the Iron Fleet. It seems Queen Yara Greyjoy is returning to Westeros and intends to visit King''s Landing. Her letter states she wishes to present the first tribute from the raids of Essos personally and to discuss matters of mutual concern."


    I felt a smile tug at my lips. Yara''s visit wasn''t unexpected, though her timing was interesting. "That''s good news. Arrange suitable accommodations," I instructed. "I''m curious what our Iron Queen considers ''mutual concern''."


    And even more curious to have her in my bed again, I thought, missing her embrace somewhat. She was a fun one in bed. Yara Greyjoy had proven herself both in battle and in more private arenas. Her submission had been particularly sweet.


    Robb shifted in his seat, standing up. "In that case, with your permission," he began, "I must return to the North soon. If these reports from Jon are true, Winterfell must be prepared."


    It has been a long time since they''ve been here. They would have returned earlier if I hadn''t gone to Meereen.


    I nodded slowly. "Of course. The North can''t remain indefinitely without its King." I studied him briefly. "Will your mother remain here with your sister?¡±


    Robb had a sad look on his face. "Yes. We want to bury our father''s remains in the crypts of Winterfell. Lady Sansa seems content with her position, otherwise I''m sure she''d have loved to come for a short visit.¡±


    Content enough, I thought, recalling Sansa''s expression when she saw Arianne. Despite her displeasure, she was learning her place, adapting to her role as my bride with increasing grace.


    "Then our business is concluded for today," I declared, rising from my chair. Ros followed suit immediately. "Prepare messages to Dragonstone regarding the dragonglass. And draft a response to Prince Doran¡ªnothing committal, just enough to keep him uncertain."


    As we filed out, our footsteps carrying us through the hallways, thoughts raced ahead to my next moves.


    Aegon, Daenerys, the White Walkers, Tywin Lannister, the Vale.... so many pieces in motion, so many threats and opportunities intertwined.


    **


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 [108] Farewell and Confinement

    Chapter 107: Farewell and Confinement


    ¡ª


    The courtyard of the Red Keep buzzed with activity¡ªhorses snorting, hooves scraping on the cobblestones, armor clinking as Stark men got ready to leave.


    I stood on the keep¡¯s steps, taking in the cool morning air against my face while I watched it all unfold.


    Robb Stark moved around his men like he¡¯d done it a thousand times, his direwolf padding silently at his side. The beast had grown since they got here. It cast an intimidating shadow that reminded everyone of the North¡¯s untamed power. Not that it could ever match a dragon¡¯s might, of course.


    I headed down the stairs, stopping near Robb as he finished fiddling with his saddlebags.


    ¡°King Stark,¡± I greeted, offering my hand. ¡°It''s truly sad to see you go. I hope your time in the capital¡¯s been enlightening.¡±


    The North might call him king, but here, in front of me, he was just another lord paying respects. Perhaps he realized that, too. Even if he didn''t, I''d let him know by the time the threat of White Walkers become a real problem.


    He turned, and I could see he felt both relief and tension about heading out. ¡°Morning, Your Grace,¡± he answered, gripping my hand tight with that no-nonsense warrior¡¯s grip. ¡°An enlightening it was indeed.


    ¡°Your bravery in the war hasn¡¯t gone unnoticed. I hope back North you''ll enjoy the reputation of a war hero,¡± I said, letting a bit of warmth creep into my voice. ¡°The alliance between our houses will help keep the realm together.¡±


    Robb nodded, his expression guarded. ¡°The North remembers its friends, Your Grace¡ªand its enemies.¡±


    It was a polite threat hidden behind courtesy, perhaps implying what might happen if I betrayed his sister. Looks like the boy has picked up a thing or two in the south.


    ¡°As do dragons,¡± I replied with a hint of a smile.


    His eyes flicked toward the towers where Viserion often perched, then back to me. There wasn''t any bad blood in our exchange, since unlike the Tyrell alliance, built on mutual gain, the Stark alliance was built on exactly that but also trust.


    ¡°Safe travels, Lord Stark,¡± I said, stepping aside. ¡°May the old gods keep an eye on your road.¡±


    As he turned to check the last details, something caught my eye. Catelyn Stark came forward from the crowd of Northern lords, her auburn hair shining under the morning sun. Sansa was among that crowd too, conversing with the lords, but my eyes remained on her mother. She walked with a steady grace, but those Tully-blue eyes burned with something when she looked at me¡ªemotion barely held in check.


    ¡°Mother-in-law,¡± I greeted with a small grin, lowering my voice a notch. ¡°Keep your family safe. The realm¡¯s never certain.¡±


    She stopped right in front of me, jaw set, giving a perfect curtsy. When she stood, her gaze didn¡¯t waver.


    ¡°My loyalty is with my children. Don¡¯t mistake my silence for approval, Your Grace,¡± she said, calm but firm.


    I couldn¡¯t help a slight smirk. After all that had happened, she still held her pride, and I found that strangely satisfying.


    ¡°How fascinating,¡± I murmured, stepping closer so only she could hear. ¡°This fragile dance of ours. You want your family¡¯s safety more than anything, don¡¯t you, my lady? Such noble devotion. So noble that it led you into my bed last time.¡±


    A flush crept up her neck, and I couldn¡¯t tell if it was anger or something else. Her lips parted, but whatever she meant to say died in the air when Robb called out.


    ¡°Mother! We have to go.¡±


    She held my gaze a second longer, full of resolve and a fierce protectiveness that spoke volumes. Then she turned away, moving toward her son with practiced elegance.


    The Stark party began mounting up, the final farewell settling over the courtyard. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sansa standing rigidly near the horses, her copper hair gleaming in the sun. She wasn¡¯t crying, but her eyes were bright with unshed tears watching her mother and brother get ready to leave.


    I walked over to her, feeling a twinge of something at how upset she looked. Gently draping an arm around her shoulders, I gave her a reassuring squeeze.


    ¡°No need to be sad, dear Sansa. Your family won¡¯t be alone¡ªsome of my best guards will go with them to the Neck,¡± I told her.


    Sansa glanced up at me, surprise peeking through her sorrow. ¡°Thank you, Your Grace,¡± she whispered. ¡°I worry about them not for their safety, however. I¡­ just¡­ I''ll miss them.¡±


    I smiled softly. ¡°As any good sister and daughter would,¡± I said, letting my voice soften. ¡°But remember, your place is here now, with me. You''ll have to get used to it.¡±


    Her gaze drifted to her mother, who was swinging onto her horse. Catelyn glanced back just once, her eyes finding Sansa¡¯s. There was a lot in that look¡ªlove, worry, silent promises.


    Then Margaery showed up, her bright smile catching the morning light. ¡°A perfect day for a ride, isn¡¯t it?¡± she said cheerily. ¡°We¡¯ll have plenty to discuss once they¡¯re gone.¡±


    I gave a nod, noticing how Margaery subtly moved a bit closer to me than to Sansa. Seemed unintentional, but it spoke volumes about the unspoken tension between them.


    ¡°You always have a place here, sweet sister,¡± Margaery said to Sansa, reaching out to squeeze her hand. It looked sincere, but there was that familiar glint in her eyes¡ªalways plotting, always aware of the game.


    I watched them, both so different, yet both so necessary for my plans, circling each other like cautious wolves.


    ¡°Margaery dearest, I¡¯ll take Sansa for a walk in the gardens,¡± I declared, looking straight at Margaery. ¡°She needs a break from this bustle. Could you oversee our guests¡¯ departure?¡±


    A quick flash of disappointment flickered on Margaery¡¯s face before she smiled again, masking it in a heartbeat. ¡°Of course, Your Grace,¡± she said with a graceful bow. ¡°I¡¯d be honored.¡±


    She drifted away toward the men and horses, and I guided Sansa through a side passage to the gardens. The air smelled sweeter there, alive with roses and jasmine.


    The two of us strolled in silence for a while, following a twisting path through neatly trimmed flowerbeds. The gardeners had outdone themselves. Vivid blossoms and thick green leaves made for a perfect backdrop.


    I slowly lightened the mood with small talk. We talked and watched from here as the horde of northern horses left the city gates. Over the next half an hour, the sadness in Sansa lessened considerably thanks to my presence.


    ¡°...Um, dear husband,¡± she suddenly said, tone a lot more serious than usual. ¡°What is your relationship with Arianne Martell?¡±


    Her voice was quiet, eyes fixed on a patch of blue winter roses. She wouldn¡¯t look at me, like she wasn¡¯t sure she wanted to know my answer.


    I paused, turning to face her. It caught me off guard¡ªnot the question itself, but that she¡¯d ask it so plainly.


    ¡°Arianne Martell is just another piece on the board,¡± I said, lifting Sansa¡¯s chin so she¡¯d meet my gaze. ¡°I hold the dragons, the swords, the crown. Did I marry her or you? Such matters don''t deserve your worry, Sansa. She¡¯s here to serve my interests, nothing more.¡±


    I did like Arianne''s company. Although she was bratty and annoying at first, it''d changed overtime. Plus she was a lot of fun in the bed¡­ But I had to reassure Sansa.


    I leaned in, lowering my voice. ¡°I will not try to defend my character, I love women, but¡­ Remember your place by my side as my wife, Sansa. You aren''t just any random woman, you''re my wife. You¡¯re safe here. Always.¡±


    Her eyes flickered with uncertainty¡ªblue eyes like her mother¡¯s, but softer. ¡°You promise?¡±


    I set a hand on her shoulder, feeling her relax just a bit under my touch. ¡°I promise, silly Sansa. Now, let¡¯s enjoy the morning. We¡¯ve got battles to win, and maybe even a war to fight.¡±


    We kept walking, and I turned over the latest changes in this ever-evolving chessboard. The Starks heading north would shore up defenses there¡ªuseful with what I knew was coming from beyond the Wall.


    Jon Snow¡¯s warnings were only the start. True Winter was on its way, and it was bringing threats far deadlier than any southern lord.


    But Sansa didn¡¯t need to know all that yet. Some plans were best kept close until the time was right.


    Specially when those plans involved me making her brother take the knee.


    ****


    The corridor leading to Arianne¡¯s room was oddly quiet this afternoon. The guards outside her door straightened up when they spotted me, their faces giving away nothing.


    I waved them off, waiting until I heard their footsteps fade before I pressed my hand against the ornate handle.


    She wasn''t in my bedroom anymore. It''d be insulting to my wives, after all. She had her own chambers, but they were nowhere near a dungeon. They were fit for a Dornish princess, comfortable enough to remind her of her station but locked up enough to show she was still under my control.


    Everyone in the court gossiped about my so-called "merciful imprisonment," but really, it was a message. She was still my prisoner, my fucktoy.


    I pushed open the door without bothering to knock. Sunlight poured in through the big windows, flooding the room in a warm glow that bounced off polished furniture and silk hangings.


    ¡°Mhm¡­¡± Arianne was lounging on her bed, a book forgotten beside her. Her dark hair spilled over the edge of the mattress, contrasting perfectly with her crimson dress. At the noise, she rolled over and stretched lazily, like a satisfied cat, before her silver eyes locked on mine.


    She broke into a grin and jumped up in one smooth move.


    Every step she took had a graceful sway, and the dress she wore¡ªdefinitely one of Margaery¡¯s, altered to fit her curves¡ªleft very little to the imagination.


    ¡°Look who¡¯s here!¡± she said, flinging her arms around my neck and pressing herself against me. Her lips brushed my cheek in a teasing welcome. ¡°Did you miss me, my Dragon King?¡±


    I chuckled, breathing in that spicy, citrusy scent she always seemed to carry. ¡°You think this is how hostages are supposed to act? I¡¯m here on business, dear prisoner.¡±


    She leaned back just a bit, eyes shining with mischief. One hand stayed around my neck while the other played idly across my chest.


    ¡°Business? How dull of you,¡± she sighed dramatically. ¡°And here I thought you¡¯d come to entertain your poor, lonely, sex-deprived captive.¡±


    Her fingers kept up their little dance, dipping beneath my doublet¡¯s collar. The tension between us crackled¡ªdesire never really went away, no matter the politics or the reasons we had to keep our distance.


    ¡°How are you sex derived when I fucked you for three whole days? Crazy girl,¡± I said. ¡°Bur anyway, I have a letter from your father,¡± I added, trying to steer things back to why I¡¯d really come. ¡°He pretends to be innocent and wants you home in Dorne. He¡¯s demanding your return.¡±


    Arianne¡¯s playful look vanished, replaced by a flicker of real anger.


    She stepped back, crossing her arms under her breasts in a way that somehow looked both stubborn and enticing.


    ¡°I don''t like why he''s acting like this. He''s always been so smart, but what''s he doing now? Fucking hell.¡± she said, her accent growing thicker as her emotions rose. ¡°He could have just apologized now and I''d have handled the rest! You¡¯d do well not to take his demands too seriously, Viserys.¡±


    I watched her, taking in the genuine frustration on her face. It was fun.


    Arianne turning against her father was a big deal in Dornish politics¡ªone I fully intended to use to my advantage.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I''m not returning you so soon. That''s it. I need to go now,¡± I said abruptly, turning toward the door. ¡°There are things I have to attend to.¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ do you really have to ignore me like this?¡± she purred, her voice dropping low. She crossed the room slowly, each movement meant to highlight the curve of her body. ¡°I¡¯m so lonely here, daddy¡­¡±


    I raised a brow, smirking at her theatrical approach. ¡°You¡¯re not exactly some damsel in distress in this safe castle, Arianne. You¡¯re more like a royal guest, with more perks than most in my court.¡±


    ¡°Well, whatever,¡± she sighed, giving up her attempt. Her expression went through a change then. Her silver gaze bored into mine, a hint of genuine vulnerability showing through her usual confidence. ¡°Ah, speaking of that¡­ What about Tyene and the others? Are they...?¡±


    The question hung in the air, heavier than her flirty words. I saw her playful fa?ade slip a bit, concern taking over.


    ¡°They¡¯re alive, rest assured. I''m keeping them in the dungeons,¡± I replied, watching her face. ¡°After trying to poison me, they¡¯re facing the consequences. I have no intention of letting them off easy.¡± Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Arianne¡¯s expression darkened, her bravado slipping. She took a step closer, no more sultry smiles or teasing.


    ¡°That¡¯s not good. They must be feeling so tortured¡­ Please, Viserys,¡± she said, her voice wavering a bit. ¡°At least let me see Tyene. She¡¯s my friend. I''ll get her on your side. It can¡¯t be that hard to arrange.¡±


    I studied her carefully.


    It was her who warned me about them, so I¡¯d expected their betrayal. The Sand Snakes had tried to kill me¡ªusually a straight path to a grisly end. But their ties to Dorne, and Arianne¡¯s loyalty, made them valuable. Killing them would be a waste. Plus they''d been helpful to me in the past.


    Letting her meet Tyene could serve as a reminder to Arianne of what happens to those who betray me.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said after a moment¡¯s thought. ¡°You can speak with her. Maybe you''ll talk some sense into her for real.¡±


    Relief flooded her features, followed by a cunning smile. She closed the gap again, pressing her body to mine.


    ¡°Thank you, really,¡± she whispered, lips hovering near my ear. Her hands slid up my chest, resting on my shoulders. My hands wrapped around her slip waist, sliding down to cup her soft ass. ¡°I knew you had a reasonable side.¡±


    Although I enjoyed the feel of her body, I had to remind her of the situation. I caught her wrists, pulling them away¡ªnot hard, but firmly. ¡°Don¡¯t confuse my calculated mercy with weakness, Princess. Your friend did try to poison me, and that usually ends in an execution.¡±


    Arianne¡¯s smile stayed in place, but I saw her eyes harden. ¡°Of course, sweetheart¡­ And I''ll be sure she''ll apologize to you for that. Since you like feeling your ego so much.¡±


    The push and pull of our relationship was always shifting¡ªfriends in one moment, enemies in the next, and lovers whenever we both felt like it. Exhausting, but also thrilling.


    Arianne was one of the few people here who came close to treating me like an equal. A risky move on her part, but one I allowed for now. She was amusing.


    ¡°I¡¯ll set it up for tomorrow,¡± I said, heading for the door. ¡°You¡¯ll be under guard, obviously.¡±


    ¡°Obviously,¡± she echoed, giving a small curtsey while flashing me a look of genuine gratitude. ¡°Until then, I¡¯ll just have to find other ways to keep busy.¡±


    As I stepped out, I found myself smiling. In another time or place, Arianne Martell might¡¯ve been a truly great queen. Maybe she still would be, depending on where the pieces landed in all the fights to come.


    The game of thrones rolled on, getting more tangled by the day.


    And in the darkness far beyond this petty power struggle, the real enemy was getting stronger¡ªthe Night King and his undead horde, all set to move south while we fought each other.


    Thankfully, one of my prized conquests returned to reassure me soon. By the time Arianne was done talking to Tyene, the Queen of the Ironborns was at my shore.


    **


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