Unknown POV:
The distinct sound of a TV turning off prompted a feminine groan of frustration.
“Ughhhh, that finale sucked Tartarus taint. I could barely make out that whole battle at the end there because it was so dark, and I created the damn planet!”
The sigh of another being seemed to calm the other down slightly.
“Then blow it up and start anew Chaos dear. I must admit, I wasn’t a fan of the show at first as it was too unpredictable, but it became more linear at the end, and I quite enjoyed it.”
“Hmph. I don’t want to blow it up, and I don’t wanna wait that long Order. What if we just rewind the time and throw some fun into the mix? We could make that Greyjoy fellow care about his son or maybe even give a dragon to some no-name peasant.”
Order sighed once again.
“We made the rules for a reason, Chaos; we can’t go breaking them because we're bored. Besides, you already did the dragon to a peasant gag, remember? It was on that Alagaësia land. Come on, let’s just go make another galaxy. I’l-”
Order didn’t even have a chance to finish his sentence, as Chaos’s mood did its usual 180. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t in the direction he hoped.
“NO! You ALWAYS try to get me to follow the rules we made together, but YOU were the one who created them, and I never got a say! I’m gonna turn back the clock there and make some changes, and if you want to ever make another galaxy with me, then you be-...”
Order glanced at his partner from the beginning in confusion. He had zoned her out shortly after she started, waiting for her long tirade to finish before her mood shifted once again, and they changed topics.
Although, the more he thought about it, the more he realized she had never stopped mid-rant before, and he hated it. It was out of the blue, unexpected, and he despised the unpredictable.
“Chaos, darling, what’s wrong?”
She looked up at him with a vivacious grin on her face.
“The most peculiar thing Ordy. Some demigod just prayed to me on Earth, and... You know what, he would be perfect to help liven up that show along with the changes I already made.”
“Already made? Chaos, what are you talking about? Don’t tell me you’ve reverted time in that Westerosi place?”
Chaos giggled like a happy schoolgirl.
“Sorry Ordy, too late. I gotta go save my new friend!”
And just like that, the creator was gone, leaving Order speechless. He couldn’t believe she had broken the rules they created in the very beginning. A righteous fury welled up inside him. They were supposed to make a new galaxy whenever they didn’t like something.
Instead, she was now galavanting living beings through the cosmos and making them dance for their entertainment. He should’ve never let her have control of the in-between life and death. But he couldn’t help it.
She knew that he was wrapped around her finger, but no longer. He was going to get something more than his own world out of this blatant rule-breaking. He opened his mouth to give Chaos a piece of his mind once she returned moments later, only to be silenced as she threw herself at him.
Smashing her lips to his, getting out a few words at a time as she dragged them toward the bedroom.
“I’m so... Sorry, Order... I... Promise not to... Do this again... Let’s make another Galaxy... And... we can put that Tax thing... in-between life and death... What do ya say...?”
Order groaned as Chaos kicked open the door. She hadn’t been this passionate since they created the Milky Way at the dawn of time. Nodding his head, she threw him onto the bed and squealed joyfully before pouncing on him.
Two days later, Order collapsed beside Chaos, panting. That had been the most passionate she had been in several millennia, and he was exhausted. Although, now that a lot of her energy had been spent, he was determined to get some answers.
“That was amazing, dear. It felt just like when we were starting out an eternity ago.”
Chaos rubbed her head across his chest as she nuzzled herself into him.
“Tell me, what brought it on?”
Chaos glanced up at him, smiling.
“It was that demigod, dear. He reminded me a bit of you when we were younger.”
Order nodded his head, understanding what she was referring to. Rubbing circles into her back, he braced himself for her reaction to his next question.
“So, what did you alter when you changed the time in Westerosi dear?”
Chaos laughed heartily from her position on his chest.
“Why, that would ruin the surprise sweetie. But, I guess since you did such a good job earlier, I’ll tell you a couple. For starters, I had Drowned influence the Greyjoys a bit. Then, I sent the demigod over there with a dragon egg.”
Order nodded his head. “Interesting; how did you ever get him to agree? Or did you just send him?”
Chaos tensed for but a second, but it was enough that Order knew he wasn’t going to like her answer.
“Well... I kind of promised him I would grant any three wishes he had based on intent once he was finished.”
“YOU WHAT?!?!”
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Iron Isles, Summer: 295 AC (Five Months before Percy Arrives in Westeros)
Thunder boomed outside Balon’s personal quarters, signifying the arrival of a storm no one saw coming. Rain pounded against the stone walls, and lightning lit up the bedchamber. One of the Ironborn guarding the door glanced up at the ceiling in slight concern, striking up a conversation with his fellow guard.
“What do you think has the Storm God pissed this time?”
“No idea Loren, but the Drowned God will protect us from the worst of the Storm God’s wrath. Just as he has done for the thousands of years they’ve been at war with each other.”
The other guard nodded in acceptance, and the two jumped slightly as a deafening boom of thunder reverberated through the halls. They glanced at each other and let out a slight chuckle that was quickly silenced as water surrounded them and filled their mouths, drowning them as a being came from around the corner.
The creature looked like a man who was lost to the sea and became a part of its cold embrace. It had sunken eyes and watery yet wrinkled skin. Part of its face had sea barnacles that provided a vibrant color across its otherwise dead face.
An unbuttoned, long black-leather trench coat covered most of its body, showing off a pair of black trousers and a bare chest that was a mismatch of human skin and barnacles. However, the most noticeable thing about the creature was its sunken eyes, a bright blue that shined with power.
The guards stopped struggling, and the being flicked its wet and wrinkly hand, dissipating the water. Their bodies dropped to the floor with an audible thud as their now lifeless eyes stared at nothing.
Saltwater dripped on the floor and sloshed out of the being's black boots as it walked forward. The now unguarded door swung open, and water encaptured a sword that would’ve decapitated the being, stopping its momentum. A deep, reverberating chuckle filled the room from the creature's throat.
Lightning lit up the bedchamber again, and Balon Greyjoy could only stare with wide eyes as he saw the humanoid being for the first time. His mouth fell open in horror, rasping out three barely audible words over the sounds of the storm and laughter.
“What are you?”
“Do you not recognize your own Drowned God, Balon Greyjoy? Am I not what you expected? Did you expect me to be thankful for you and your people's worship?”
The creature's very voice was filled with power, and the Head of House Greyjoy fell to his knees. The stoop in his shoulder helped him bow his head as the being laughed again. Balon recovered from his shock quickly, and his voice was more confident as he spoke, but there was still a trace amount of confusion and fear.
“I am sorry, Mi’lord, for not recognizing you. Please forgive me. What can I do for you?”
“At least you know your place at my feet, mortal. But, I suppose you can rise. Tell me, when you heard the stories of me, where did you think they came from? Of all the stories told by man, why did you think this one survived the tests of time?”
Balon stood, looking his Drowned God in the eyes despite his fear. His pride and upbringing allowed him to do no less.
“I thought they were stories made up by the priests to hoard power, Mi’Lord.”
“Hmph, No. Those stories survived because I ensured it. You’d be wise to learn that all stories start with a grain of truth to them. But I digress. I came here to relay to you my will.”
Balon crossed an arm over his chest and formed a fist over his heart as he bowed down.
“All you have to do is ask Mi’Lord, and it will be done.”
The being smirked slightly.
“Good, good. I want you to take the North.”
Balon’s eyes widened, but he knew better than to question the god before him.
“I will begin preparations at once, Mi’Lord. What would you have me do when the King retaliates? I am confident he wi-”
“Silence; I will ensure word never reaches the King before we are ready. With this gift, however, you will make sure this Eddard Stark hurts. I will not tolerate a being who worships them to get away with murdering my followers.”
Balon nodded, already coming up with an idea that would make the honorable Ned Stark feel true pain. A family man like him would be devastated if his wife and youngest son were murdered in their own home.
“I can tell you already have a plan, good. I will leave you to it; do not disappoint me.”
Balon bowed once again as the being turned to water and disappeared out the window into the sea. He shook slightly from where he stood, slapping himself in hopes that it was merely a dream to no avail.
Taking a breath to calm himself and accept that the last five minutes hadn’t been a dream, he stepped out of his personal quarters. Only to once again stare in horror as two of his personal guards stared back at him.
Their eyes were milky white and watery, while pieces of vibrantly colored coral dotted their now gray skin. They both bowed slightly at his appearance before one of them spoke, his voice an ominous whisper.
“What is dead may never die.”
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Winterfell, Summer: 295 AC
Eddard Stark paced back and forth, causing his wife to look at him in concern.
“You seem troubled, dear. What’s bothering you?”
Eddard looked towards his wife with a fond smile.
“You know me so well, Catelyn. It’s this man Martyn introduced me to today. There is something different about him that I just can’t quite place?”
She gave her husband a curious look, silently asking him to elaborate further. Something Eddard picked up on, having been married to the woman for so many years.
“To start, he is skilled with the blade. So much so that I don’t know how I haven’t heard his name before. From Martyn's explanation, he cut through Ivan and his bandits like they were training dummies.”
“A person like that would come with a story, and I don’t know how no one has heard whispers of it. Despite that, I still find myself wanting to help and believe him. It's just a feeling in my gut, but I have a sensation that he’s trustworthy.”
Catelyn smiled, “I know you, dear. Better than you know yourself, sometimes it seems. Your gut hasn’t led you astray yet, and I doubt it will start now. But, if that was all there was to the story, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Eddard sighed as he rubbed his chin.
“You’re right, as usual. It’s also the fact that he turned down Ivan’s bounty and an additional two gold dragons I was going to provide him for helping save Martyn’s life. Instead, he told me to give the bounty to Martyn and only asked for access to our library of all things in its place.”
Catelyn widened her eyes slightly at that revelation. It was peculiar indeed.
“I granted his request, of course. Every gold dragon counts, but it was not the appeal I expected. I was more prepared for a petition of land than access to our library.”
They both chuckled slightly at the absurdity of a request for land, and then a little more at each other's laughter. Calming a bit, Catelyn smiled at her husband, remembering how they came to love each other despite their duty.
“Trust your gut, dear. It hasn’t led you astray yet, and I don’t see why it would start now.”
Eddard nodded his head, enveloping his wife in a hug. A calmness washed over him as he decided on the newcomer. He would treat the man as a friend and ally until he proved otherwise. Pulling away slightly from the hug, he kissed his wife, forever thankful for her constant support.
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Ice cut clean through one of the attackers and allowed Ned a chance to inspect the armor he wore. Catching sight of the sigil for House Greyjoy, his face turned into a snarl as he cut down another of the Ironborn scum.
His mind racing while his body went on autopilot, trying to figure out what in the world Balon was attempting to gain with this attack. There were hardly enough men to take and hold Winterfell, and they all seemed green.
Their attacks were sloppy, and their defense was lackluster. It was as if it was their first time holding a sword. But they still fought with the ferociousness of a man whose family was in danger. He considered the possibility that Perseus had a hand in the attack but dismissed it as quickly as it came.
He still didn’t know the man well, but based on their conversations and what Robb said about the mystery man, he didn’t think Perseus was behind it. The man had been nothing but honorable and trustworthy so far, and he wasn’t about to doubt him now.
Even so, Eddard couldn’t help but wonder where he was. Based on Martyn’s words, he expected the Braavosi to be fighting with them. That’s when he realized the true goal of Balon’s attack and retreated back to the Great Hall in a panic.
Robb watched his father go in confusion before following him. Leaving some parting words to the men as he did so, lest the morale lower so much that they lose an easily winnable fight.
“Fight on, men. Jory will handle things from here! Another battle requires our immediate attention.”
A cacophony of ‘ayes’ sounded behind the Stark heir as he caught up to his father, who was frantically looking around the Great Hall. Jon came up behind him and gave Robb a questioning look.
Robb shrugged his shoulders before gesturing to their father, as the man spoke with Sansa while Arya talked with Bran. That’s when it simultaneously dawned on both men what was wrong, and they began quickly searching the Great Hall for their youngest brother and Robb’s mother.
Not finding Catelyn or Rickon anywhere, the duo made their way to Eddard, who looked pained as his eyes searched the room for the umpteenth time.
“Father, I don’t see mother or baby Rickon. What do you know that we don’t?”
Robb’s voice broke Eddard out of his trance, and the man took in his two sons. His voice was gruff, with a dangerous edge that Robb had never heard before.
“That Greyjoy scum is using the attack outside as a decoy for an assassination attempt. We need to find your mother and youngest brother now! You’re with me Robb. We are heading towards Rickon’s chambers, where Sansa said she was last seen. Jon, you stay here and protect our family.”
Robb saw the look on his half-brother's face and squeezed his shoulder, stopping the protest before it could escape his lips. He knew Jon wanted to help, but Robb saw the logic in what their father was saying.
They didn’t know who Balon’s targets were, and they could’ve planted an assassin to be in the Great Hall once the attack started. Sansa, Arya, and little Bran were not safe. He’d explain it to him once the battle was over if he needed to, but there wasn’t any time to now.
However, the doors opened before the father-son duo could make their way to them, revealing a slightly ruffled Catelyn and crying Rickon with a Bloody Perseus behind them. Eddard sighed in relief, making his way over to the duo and enveloping them in a hug.
“I was worried, what happened?”
Catelyn sighed into the embrace, allowing him to lead her and Rickon to the rest of the family. Relaxing with each step as she realized she was finally safe, recounting the past several minutes to her husband.
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“Ironborn intercepted myself and the guards as we left Rickon’s room. The men were outnumbered two-to-one and tried to retreat and get Rickon and myself to safety. They tried, but there were just too many. We would have died had Perseus not gotten to us when he did.”
Eddard nodded, checking over his wife and youngest son once again now that they were with the rest of the family. Confirming they were unharmed a second time, he took a shaky breath before motioning to Robb and Jon to join him.
Making his way over to the man who saved the mother of his children and his youngest son. A just reward for such an action was already in mind as he thanked the Bravossi native before joining the rest of his men outside in the courtyard where the original fighting occurred.
Eddard immediately jumped back into the battle and attacked with fury. Mercilessly killing the men who were happy to die as a distraction so their comrades could sneak in and assassinate members of his family. They would regret that decision; he’d make sure of it.
The Warden of the North lost himself in the short battle as he planned his next moves and retaliation against the Greyjoys. When he wrote to Robert about this, he was confident the man would join him in invading and razing the Iron Isles to the ground.
Eddard would put Theon on the throne of what remained, and as such, he needed to ensure the boy was ready. Thankfully, three of the Ironborn decided to surrender once they realized they were the last ones left, and Ned let out a sigh of relief. That would allow him to give Theon a chance to distance himself from his father’s actions.
Breaking out of his thoughts for the future, Eddard looked around for something to stand on to congratulate his men. Finding a bench, he looked over the miniature battlefield as his soldiers gave him their attention.
“Today, the Ironborn have made an egregious mistake in attacking Winterfell. A mistake they will soon come to regret. I am proud of you all for your valiant efforts in repelling these invaders. If you are injured, please make your way to the infirmary. If you are able, please clean up this trash. But all of you have my thanks.”
The men erupted into cheers, and Eddard motioned to Perseus, Jon, and Robb to follow him as he made his way to the Great Hall. Finding Rodrick and Jory relatively quickly, he had them collect the prisoners and Theon, whom he had sat out of the fight to avoid killing his own men.
However, he could no longer afford to do so with Balon’s true intentions of this attack known. Theon couldn’t afford to stay neutral any longer for his own sake. Ned just hoped his ward would choose the proper punishment for the Ironborn.
His eyes then drifted to the mystery that was Perseus. At this point, he didn’t even need his gut to know he could trust the man. He had no obligation to help but still risked his life to save his wife and youngest son.
He had only known Perseus for a day, but that act alone made Eddard feel as if he'd known him his whole life. There was also just an aura surrounding him that made Ned want to believe in the Bravossi native.
A bold idea of giving the man ownership of the land at Sea Dragon Point came to mind. Perseus had proven himself to be well-knowledged on top of his skill with the blade, not to mention that something had changed with Balon for the man to order such a bold attack.
The head of House Greyjoy had to know there would be fierce repercussions for his actions, which meant once he learned this attack failed, he would double down instead of backing off. Having a dependable friend and ally at the Ironborn's most common landing spot would help him.
Eddard pondered a few more ideas that rewarded Perseus’s actions and helped him in the upcoming conflict, only to keep returning to the same solution of giving him the land at Sea Dragon Point.
It’d be unprecedented, but his gut was telling him it was the right choice. He would have to help Perseus learn some of the Westerosi customs, but the more he thought about it, the more his confidence in the decision grew.
With his mind made up, he stood on one of the raised tables and cleared his throat. Making sure everyone was paying attention before having the future Lord of Sea Dragon Point join him.
“Today, Balon Greyjoy has made a terrible mistake...”
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Winterfell, Summer: 295 AC (3 weeks after Percy left Winterfell)
Eddard Stark sighed over his desk, staring down at the third letter he was writing to King Robert. It had been nearly six months since Balon had attempted to kill his wife and youngest son, Rickon.
He had to assume that the last two letters he sent by raven never made it to the King's attention, which was worrying. He knew Robert enough that he was confident the man would’ve responded immediately and in force once he read the letter.
Yet, he couldn’t find a cause for why his messages weren’t making it to His Grace. When he wrote the second letter, he had copied it and sent it to his mentor, Jon Arryn, Hand to the King. Neither of the two responded, and Eddard was beginning to believe something was amiss in King’s Landing.
So, this letter he was sending by messenger. It would take longer, and he planned to devote a dozen guards for the protection of the emissary, but this would hopefully ensure the letter made it to King Robert.
Unfortunately, it meant he now needed the guards he had loaned Perseus. That messenger had left a few hours ago and would hopefully return with the added men in two weeks' time. He would wait to send his emissary to King’s Landing until they returned, but the longer he waited, the more nervous he felt.
He didn’t understand what in the world Balon was doing or why his messages about the attack weren’t making it out by Raven. It was specific, too, as Robert had received and replied to his letter about Perseus’s dragon.
The more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself something was wrong, as he couldn’t imagine rumors of Balon’s assassination attempt not making it to King’s Landing. However, he supposed that perhaps Robert was refusing to believe those rumors because he was rightfully expecting a letter from Ned himself that provided the actual details of the attack.
He hoped that was the case and there was a good reason why his letters weren’t being received. The alternatives required the involvement of more than one party, and Ned had a feeling he wouldn’t like the outcome if that was the case. Shaking the sense of dread that settled in his gut, he reread his letter to Robert one last time.
Dear King Robert,
I am writing to you requesting action be taken to remove Balon Greyjoy from his seat in the Iron Isles along with his execution. I firmly believe he authorized an assassination attempt on my wife, Catelyn, and youngest son, Rickon.
Using the guise of an attack to draw my and my guards, attention to the courtyard. From there, his men infiltrated Winterfell and attempted to kill Catelyn and Rickon. They would’ve succeeded had it not been for Perseus of House Wake, the man I told you about who managed to hatch a dragon.
He saved their lives, Robert, when he had no obligation to. Because of this, I made him a Lord and gifted him Sea Dragon Point. This decision was threefold: rewarding him for a great deed, ensuring Balon could not establish a stronghold on the mainland, and allowing us a position to gather troops and launch an attack.
When you get this, please watch your back. Balon’s men attacked six months previous from the time I am writing this letter, and I have written three to your attention since. Even going so far as to address one to Jon Arryn.
Thinking to himself momentarily, Eddard dabbed his quill and began writing another line.
I hope it was merely bad luck that stopped the ravens from arriving, but you have to admit, the chances of three ravens not reaching their destination are slim. I feel there is trouble on the horizon, and I want to ensure you that the North will back you, as we always have.
Checking his added line for any mistakes and seeing none, he folded the letter before sealing it with wax and stamping on the direwolf sigil. Satisfied, he leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. One task was completed, and now he had at least a dozen more to do.
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Highgarden, Summer: 296 AC (While Percy is in Bravoss)
Olena Tyrell raised an eyebrow at the report she just read regarding a man named Perseus of House Wake. While she might not have had a spy network as extensive as Littlefinger or as influential as Varys.
She still had a steady flow of information from all over the continent, and one thing was quickly becoming apparent. Perseus of House Wake was on track to become a Great House, one that would either be a great ally or a concerning enemy.
When she had heard the boy hatched a dragon, she dismissed it. The last dragon had died a handful of years before she was born, and from what her parents had told her, the beast was sickly. Dying a year later and with it, the Targaryen's ability to hatch, raise, and command the creatures.
She expected a similar outcome to befall this dragon, as she didn’t believe for one second the boy wasn’t a bastard Targaryen of some sort. However, it seemed not to be the case, as a contact in Braavos had just told her that the dragon had grown, among other things.
Like the fact that the boy was incredibly wealthy, but she didn’t know how he had gotten his fortune. Her network consisted of three people past The Narrow Sea, one in Braavos and the other two elsewhere in Essos.
Because of this and the boys' sudden rise, she wasn’t able to determine anything about his past other than he was originally from Braavos. Something she would have to rectify since he managed to procure 150,000 gold dragons from the Iron Bank in a very public transaction.
She would be sure to keep an eye on the boy, along with the North in general. Winterfell’s economy was booming if rumors were to be believed, thanks, in no small part, to Perseus’s hiring of the Storm Masons.
However, that wasn’t the sole factor, and from what Olenna could tell, Perseus was getting people to join his city in droves despite the crown recognizing the castle as ‘Seahaven’ only a week ago.
According to rumors, the driving factor was Perseus offering the citizens inside his wall access to running water. The matriarch of House Tyrell couldn’t quite believe the stories to be accurate, as the idea was simply outside the realm of reality.
Yet, people were still packing up their lives to move to a newly named castle in the North. It didn’t help that she couldn’t get a spy inside the city, as every person she sent cut off contact with her before she could get the truth.
Shifting her thoughts away from Perseus and Seahaven for now, she focused on the potential rift that was forming between King Robert and Eddard Stark. According to her spies in Winterfell, Balon attacked over a year ago, and the King still hadn’t taken any action.
They were just outdated rumors at this point. Still, everything pointed to the attack, and by extension, the assassination attempt, to be true. It was why Ned gifted Perseus Sea Dragon Point, after all.
A younger person would’ve assumed the two had a falling out over Eddard not killing the dragon Perseus hatched. But Olenna doubted that was the case. She knew the two were as close as brothers, and something like an assassination attempt wouldn’t see Robert idle or silent.
No, the Tyrell Matriarch suspected something much worse. The way she saw it, someone was actively hiding the information from King Robert, which meant only one thing: war. A war for the Iron Throne was coming; she could feel it.
All she had to do was figure out how to ensure Margaery was queen once the true victor was crowned. The thought brought her mind to Perseus once again. Despite his status, the fact he had an active and growing dragon gave him a possible chance to ascend to the Iron Throne.
She would need to learn more about the man to determine where to focus her efforts. However, the more she thought, the less confident she was that Joffery Baratheon would be the best suitor to ensure Margaery became and stayed queen.
A knock on the door brought Olenna out of her inner thoughts, and after putting the report away in a locked drawer on her desk, she called them in.
“Come in.”
The door opened to reveal her grandaughter and the subject of which she was going to all the trouble for.
“Ah, Margaery, my dear. How are you? Are you excited for your nineteenth name-day?”
The auburn-haired beauty smiled at the matriarch of House Tyrell.
“I am well, grandmother, and I am most excited! Father tells me that he will authorize the building of an orphanage as a gift.”
Olenna smiled at the girl. For all her beauty and brains, she could honestly say that her granddaughter truly did care about the smallfolk.
“I am glad to hear it dear. You know, I was married on my nineteenth to your oaf of a grandfather, Luther, and he got me this barbed rose as a gift. Oh, I was furious with him. You see, it was right around the time I had gotten the nickname Queen of Thorns.”
Margaery gave her grandmother a sympathetic smile, something that had Olenna smirking internally.
“Don’t pity me dear; you’ll soon learn that men are some of the planet's most foolish and idiotic creatures. But they can have the best intentions... As I was saying, Luther, that oaf. Saw how much the nickname was bothering me and got the Rose made in an effort to help me feel better.”
Her beautiful granddaughter raised her eyebrow, which Olenna laughed heartily at.
“I thought the same thing you did now, but he told me, ‘It’s to remind you that only the most beautiful roses have the sharpest thorns.’ After that, I started taking the insult as a compliment.”
“That’s beautiful grandmother. Do you still have it?”
Olenna smiled, reaching into the side of her dress and pulling out a stunning golden rose with a silver stem and thorns. Margaery admired the jewelry, which, for being several decades old, still shone in the evening light.
The piece was immaculately maintained, and the daughter of Mace Tyrell could even make out the different petals in the golden rose. Carefully, she handed the jewelry back to her grandmother, who smiled at it, a wistful look in her eyes as she remembered times long gone.
The Tyrell matriarch shook her head to clear it of her memories before standing from her desk and reaching out for Margaery’s arm, which she quickly looped with hers.
“That’s enough talk about my past, dear. Let us go walk through the garden as we talk about these suitors who have been begging for your hand in marriage.”
Margaery giggled as she walked with her grandmother toward the garden.
“Sure grandmother, who has Father been thinking about?”
Olenna smirked as she patted Margaery’s hand.
“There’s been a couple of names thrown about; how do you feel about the North?”
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Pentos, Summer: 296 AC (While Percy is in Bravoss)
Daenerys Targaryen couldn’t quite believe the words Illyrio Mopatis had just said. Her brother, Viserys, was enraged with Illyrio’s message, having ‘awoken the dragon’ as her brother would say. It was ironic, considering the subject of their discussion.
The sound of something shattering against a wall, no doubt caused by Viserys, broke Daenerys out of her stupor and allowed her to find her voice.
“I’m sorry, Illyrio, could you please repeat that?
“Are you deaf or stupid, sister?!? He said a dragon was born to someone who claims to not be a Targaryen.”
Her brother’s voice startled her, causing her to instinctively jump as she remembered the fist or slap that usually accompanied his anger. Thankfully, he was preoccupied with taking his rage out on other things in the room rather than herself.
Magister Mopatis gave her a sympathetic smile as he agreed with Viserys.
“Your brother is correct, Lady Daenerys. A man named Perseus of the House Wake, which is a new house in the North under House Stark, owns a dragon that is actively growing under his care.”
“In fact, sources say he is currently in Braavos with said dragon, looking to do business with the Iron Bank. No one quite knows how long he will be there, but I imagine he will be gone long before we could ever hope to arrive.”
Viserys picked up a vase that Dany was sure was expensive, judging by the look on Illyrio’s face, before throwing it against the wall with a scream of rage.
“Lord Viserys, please calm yourself; that vase was very expensive.”
Her brother sneered at their host, and Daenerys prepared to be thrown back out on the streets.
“Are you telling your future King what to do? You do not want to make an enemy out of me, Magister Mopatis. But you are right. My inner dragon got the best of me, and for that, I am sorry.”
Illyrio raised an eyebrow, and Daenerys was glad their latest host seemed to be a kind and forgiving man. They hadn’t even been living here for a week, and already Viserys was showing his true colors.
“I understand how frustrating the news could be, but I doubt he is related to either of you. According to my sources, Eddard Stark vouches that he is no Targaryen, and there is not a more honorable or trustworthy man in all of Westeros.”
Dany could feel her brother seething at the statement as he dismissed Illyrio’s words.
“That is impossible, Magister, I assure you. We Targaryens are the only ones capable of controlling and raising dragons.”
“I would agree with you, Viserys, had anyone other than Eddard Stark vouched for this man. But Eddard doesn’t lie, and this Perseus doesn’t seem to possess any other traits of House Targaryen.”
“Blasphemous, I want to hear no more of this imposter Illyrio unless you have gotten in contact with him, and he's ready to pledge his loyalty to the rightful king of Westeros.”
With his piece said, Daenerys watched her brother storm out of the room they were in, leaving just her and the Magister. Their host gave her a smile that she hesitantly returned.
“You have taken this news rather well, Daenerys. Are you not concerned that this Perseus Wake will sway the loyalty of your house’s supporters?”
At this, Daenerys actually scoffed.
“With all due respect, Magister Mopatis, I don’t believe my house has any supporters left. If they did, my brother and I would not have grown up as urchins. But we are not ungrateful, despite how my brother may act, and we are both indebted to you for providing us sanctuary when few others would.”
Illyrio gave her a sad smile as he gripped her shoulder.
“I understand how you could feel this way, Daenerys. But I assure you, House Targaryen still has plenty of supporters back in Westeros. They simply don’t have a reason to rally and come out of hiding yet, as they fear Robert's retaliation.”
“We are working on several plans that give your brother an army, one that would be bolstered by your House supporters once you landed in Westeros. I fully believe your brother will be able to take the Iron Throne when the time is right.”
Daenerys nodded as their host left the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Which soon drifted to Perseus Wake. She didn’t know how the man hatched a dragon or how he even got his hands on a dragon egg. However, she did know that he was no true Targaryen.
One of her kin would never shy away from their name and inherent right to rule. Especially after Robert Baratheon murdered every last one of her relatives in his ascension to the Iron Throne. It wouldn’t be something she’d soon forget.
Still, she did want to meet this mystery man. If for nothing else than to determine where he found his dragon egg and if she could bond with his dragon and make it eat the false pretender. After all, it wasn’t every day that a dragon was born, especially into the care of a non-Targaryen, and she would need all the help possible to restore her family’s place on the Iron Throne.
In fact, she believed in herself despite her brother's words and was confident she could bond with the non-Targaryen’s dragon. Or maybe she could find a live dragon egg and raise it as her own child.
A true Targaryen’s dragon would be able to crush any pretender; she was sure of it. Then, all she and her brother would have to do was gather an army; even a small one would suffice if she had her own dragon. How hard could it be?
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King’s Landing, Summer: 296 AC (While Percy is in Bravoss)
Petyr Baelish stroked his chin in thought, picking back up the letter he had just read once more to ensure he didn’t miss anything.
Dear Littlefinger,
I have gained the Lord’s trust. I must admit he was more challenging than others, but at the end of the day, he is still a man. Copies of their current population, military strength, plans for future city amenities, buildings, and improvements, plus a ship diagram, have been attached to this letter.
Also, I can’t quite place it, but there is something different about this man. He has a certain presence that I don’t know how to explain. People just naturally trust him, and I even found myself falling into his spell from time to time.
I know you won’t believe me, but from what I could gather, Eddard Stark made Perseus a Lord after knowing him for less than 2 days. Since then, he and the Warden have become close friends, and Lord Stark has helped him more than most would their own family.
That should give you an idea of who you’re working with and how he is building such incredible loyalty.
If you want more, and trust me, there is a lot more. Then you better remember our deal and why I am doing this in the first place. You keep caring for my son, and I will keep supplying you with information.
I believe Lord Wake plans to soon spend a significant amount of time on-site at a project to expand the River Fever. I will take this time to visit King’s Landing to see my son and make sure you are taking care of him before I send any more information.
Your friend.
He set the letter back down a second time, only to nearly pick it up a third just to make sure he was still reading it correctly. The fact that Eddard Stark had made the boy a Lord after only knowing him for a little over a day was interesting.
At least it seemed that using one of his best on the fledgling city wasn’t for naught. Perseus Wake was shaping up to be a powerful player. Despite only being a minor house at the moment, Balish was sure that it wouldn’t be long till Seahaven was just as well known as Winterfell.
Especially if the young Lord could adequately implement the plans his spy had copied and added to the letter. Baleish was impressed by what he was seeing and would have to see about suggesting some of them to King Robert before Riverall got the chance.
Standing up, he made his way from his office and towards the courtyard, where he was to meet Lysa for a walk. The woman was still madly in love with him, and Petyr almost felt bad for leading the woman on like he was, but it was a necessary evil.
If he ever wanted to sit on the Iron Throne, with Catelyn as his queen, he would have to create his own opportunities and take advantage of them. He could not take it honorably and learned long ago, against his duel with Brandon Stark, that he would not be given a fair chance.
Even this no-name from Bravoss seemed to be handed the key to the throne on a silver platter. A growing dragon complicated his plans, and he would have to make some adjustments if he was going to still succeed with a threat as significant as that in the game.
He would have to see if his spy could leverage the man to support him when the time came, but he doubted it. Perhaps he could have his spy poison the man, but then, what would the dragon do?
That, he didn’t know, but he would have Maester Pyrelle look into how they dealt with the beasts in the past and make sure some coin was allocated to build defenses against the creature. It was good to be well-prepared; no matter what he decided, he imagined the dragon would be a problem.
Clearing his head of his thoughts, he smiled at Lysa as she spotted him in the courtyard.
“Petyr, I’m glad you made it! For a moment, I thought you might have missed our walk.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Lysa. Come, let us be on our way.”
Looping his arm through hers, Petyr guided her out into the garden and focused on winning the first part of his plan over. With Jon Arryn still alive, he wouldn’t be able to do anything. The man was too cunning and knowledgable for his own good, and Petyr knew he couldn’t sneak much by the old man.
“Tell me Lysa, how is Jon? Is he treating you well?