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The Last King by Greed720

Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Game of Thrones Xover Rated: M, English, Percy J., Words: 184k+, Favs: 4k+, Follows: 5k+, Published: Jan 22, 2018 Updated: Oct 27 1,644Chapter 5

AN: So here is the next chapter to the story, I hope you all enjoy it. I have to say I appreciate all the support I have received so far, this story is now fourth ranked in the PJ/GoT crossover section.

So other than that I hope you all enjoy the chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones)

( - )

(Last Time)

As the two of them moved through Winterfell, heading for the tower where Tytan had his quarters. The Prince noticed out of the corner of his eyes the dark haired boy he had noticed before in the courtyard, Jon Snow he presumed, who seemed to currently be talking to Tyrion of all people. For a moment as he saw them Tytan was tempted to approach them and hear what they were talking about, maybe even get a better picture of what the bastard of Winterfell was like.

However as a chill wind suddenly hit him, he decided otherwise. After all he would likely meet the other boy tomorrow, maybe even in a spar, and from experience Tytan found one of the best way to see what a person was really like, was to see what they were like in a fight.

Plus it was damn cold out here and he had a beautiful redhead waiting for him in his chambers, and he would much rather have an enjoyable night with Ros then standing out in the cold talking to Tyrion and Jon Snow. After all it was likely just Tyrion half mocking and half helping someone he saw as 'undesirable' and 'unwanted' as he saw himself.

So yeah Tytan would much prefer a warm bed and a good shag over getting involved in some depressing, depreciating conversation with his dwarf uncle and the bastard of Winterfell.

( - )

Chapter 5

( - )

(With Tytan)

It was relatively early the next morning that Tytan Baratheon found himself walking through the frigid halls of Winterfell, feeling both well rested and clear headed despite having drunk a lot of the wine at the welcoming feast the night before and having engaged in some lascivious activities with Ros. Of course this was due to his naturally enhanced physical abilities, courtesy of being/ having been a Demigod.

The reason for these latent abilities was because Demigods by their very nature were born to be warriors and heroes, which meant that even the weakest of Demigods was stronger, faster and more durable than an average human.

Tytan himself though, as Demigods went was pretty exceptional, because as a child of Poseidon, one of the three most powerful Gods in the Greco-Roman Pantheon, he was a cut above the rest. Meaning that when it came to sheer physical abilities it was doubtful there was any mortal man in Westeros or even Essos that could match him one on one. Even the Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane, a man vaunted for his incredible strength and vast size was likely not as strong as Tytan. Despite the man like having close to two feet of height on the young Prince, not that Tytan had ever been able to put this to the test as the man was currently in the Night's Watch, minus his balls.

Tytan having given the order himself for the Mountain and his men to be brought to court and tried for their sins, even if his doing so had pissed off Tywin Lannister, his grandfather and the Warden of the West and the holder of the Mountain's leash. Not that the man could do anything, both because Tytan was his family and because he knew that the good will of the Crown Prince was worth more to him than a mad dog like the Mountain, especially if saving Clegane earned him the enmity of the future King, a man who by all accounts was blessed by the gods.

Of course to fuel these increased physical abilities Tytan needed energy, which meant that his metabolism was just as enhanced as the rest of him. Which was actually a good thing when it came to drinking, as it meant that he could drink with the best of them, as the sheer amount he needed to drink to get well and truly trashed was almost double that of a normal man. However it also meant that by the time he woke up in the morning his body had already metabolized the alcohol and his connection to water meant he was never dehydrated, as if he ever did get thirsty his skin naturally absorbed the moisture around him.

All of which was certainly useful at staving off hangovers, especially when after a raucous night of celebration and excessive drinking, Tytan found himself being rudely awakened by a servant in the late morning so that he could take part in the spar that he had apparently promised Robb Stark last night. Which at the time might have seemed like a good idea, but early in the morning was something he wished he could avoid so he could go back to bed where it was warm and cozy, and where he had been spooning a beautiful and fiery redhead.

Unfortunately though a promise was a promise, which is why he was currently walking through the corridors of Winterfell, heading for the training yard. The Crown Prince currently wearing his freshly scoured mail hauberk and leather armour, a set of castle forged steel bracers on his forearms, leather gloves on his hands and a pair of leather boots with iron strips running down the sides, useful little additions that protected his ankles from people trying to sweep his legs with blades in the melee.

Belted around Tytan's waist was his sheathed bastard sword, a four foot long blade with a wide tang, unadorned ivory coloured cross guard, heavy pommel and a tapered point. A brutal weapon, which was made for the simple task of killing. Whether this was by slashing with the side of the blades, impaling with the point of the blade or spiked cross guard or even bludgeoning with the flat of the blade and pommel. A weapon that was made for killing, not for fancy or elegant swordplay.

The blade itself was simple castle forged steel, the hilt and crossguard however was crafted from dragon bone. Dragon bone harvested from the skulls of the old Targaryen dragons, the ones that had once been used to decorate the walls of the throne room. But had since been relegated to the castle dungeons to gather dust, after Robert's rebellion, the King not wanting any tainted reminder of the Targeryen's around him. Balerion the Dread, that was the name of that dragon whose skill Tytan had had shattered, and whose bones he now used for his sword hilt, shield and plate armour, the bones having been used during the forging to accentuate his plate armours defensive capabilities.

On Tytan's other hip, his left one, he had a dagger sheathed to it. This one being somewhat fancier than his sword, with this blade being made of Valeryian Steel, a rare and indestructible metal that knew one knew the secrets to making anymore. The dagger having been a nameday present from Robert, who likely just found it in the Crown's treasury and thought, hey why not.

Letting out a slight sigh as he felt the cold wind once again hit him, Tytan didn't say a word as he continued on through Winterfell, his uncle Jamie walking alongside him as a guard, the blonde haired man wearing his full golden plate armour and white cloak. As he continued on Tytan couldn't help regretting his offer the night before, as a part of him wanted to be back in his bedchamber, sheltered from the cold as he instead slept with Ros.

Still he had made a promise, and Tytan was always true to his word.

Walking outside Tytan barely made it a few steps before a loud voice hailed him. The source of the voice being a corpulent old man, with a gruff face, bear like arms and a large fur cloak.

"Prince Tytan." Rodrik Cassel, the Winterfell Master-at-Arms called out as he saw the armoured and well rested looking Pence exit the keep, taking note of his garb and weaponry as he did so. "If you are here to train, then the training yard is ready for a spar."

Tytan nodded as he heard that, giving the man an absentminded wave as he instead looked around the training yard. Which as he looked around he could see consisted of little more than a square of clear earth, with a few racks around the outside for armour and weapons. As he did look around he noticed that both Robb and the Stark's friend Theon, along with Robb's bastard brother Jon were all talking at one side of the yard, a couple of Stark guardsmen with them as they chatted, all of them wearing armour of some form or another, with both Robb and Theon looking capable if a little pale and tired from the revelries of the night before.

Looking over to the other side of the yard, Tytan could see his younger brother Joffrey talking with his personal guard, Sandor Clegane, and a few Lannister men-at-arms. From the mocking expressions on their faces and the slight sneers they were throwing at their surroundings, Tytan could easily tell that his brother and his little group were probably insulting either the Starks or the North, or more likely both.

Rolling his eyes at the idiotic antics of his brother, Tytan instead approached Robb Stark a slight smirk passing across his face.

"Young Stark, you're looking well!" Tytan said loudly, attracting Robb's attention, the Heir of Winterfell wincing at the loudness of Tytan's comment before sending him a wane smile.

"Tytan, you made it." Robb said as he pushed himself up.

"Well I said I would, I just thought I would give you some more time to recover. You were looking pretty merry the other night." Tytan replied easily as he clapped Robb on the shoulder before giving Theon and Jon a nod, something the both of them returned, even if the bastard's greeting was a bit stiff and awkward.

Robb grimaced as he heard that. "Yeah, drank a bit too much. Am surprised you're not in the same condition, I mean you drank as much if not more than me."

"Well obviously I handle my wine better then you." Tytan replied with a good natured chuckle.

"Piss off." Robb replied with a laugh oh his own, a slight smile on his face.

"How about you then Greyjoy, you in as bad a condition as your friend?" Tytan asked, deciding to extend the olive branch to Theon. After all his family might be shit, but that didn't mean he was.

"No." Theon replied brusquely, a slightly sour expression on his face as he scowled around the yard.

Tytan cocked an eyebrow as he heard that, before looking over to Robb, who upon hearing Theon's tone had grimaced.

"Sorry about Theon, he's in a bit of a bad mood. Last night he went to the brothel and tried to buy a night with his favourite whore, only to be told she wasn't taking anymore clients." Robb replied, as he tried to explain the actions of his frustrated friend to the Crown Prince, hoping that the other man wouldn't take offence..

"You've got blue balls eh?" Tytan asked in amusement as he saw Theon trying to hide the withering look he sent his way. "That sounds shit, so why didn't she want to see you?"

"Apparently Ros's besotted with some stuck-up ponce. Bitch probably caught the scent of his gold and was on it like a dog in heat!" Theon replied gruffly, an unpleasant look passing across his face.

Hearing what the boy said Tytan had to hold himself back from knocking the Greyjoy on his arse, the Prince not at all appreciating the comments the Greyjoy was making about Ros, even if Tytan had only known her a couple of days. Still they were about to spar, so Tytan might be a bit rougher on Theon because of that comment. "Well you know what they say, plenty more fish in the sea?"

As they heard the expression both Theon and Robb looked at Tytan in confusion. Before they could ask about it though, Tytan had instead looked over at Jon. The shorter boy still looking pretty miserable as he glanced up and saw the Crown Prince looking at him.

"So you're Jon Snow then, the bastard of Winterfell?" Tytan asked curiously, not missing the way Jon's scowl deepened at his words. Obviously being a little thin skinned and not liking being called a bastard, even if he was a bastard.

"Aye, and you're the Crown Prince." Jon replied back slightly coldly, the scowl not leaving his face as he looked the Prince up and down, noting the quality of his mail and weaponry.

"That I am." Tytan acknowledged, growing bored of the bastards scowling, after all self-pity was something Tytan had no time for. "So I hear you're a damn good fighter?"

"I do alright, I was trained from a young age." Jon replied, his tone becoming somewhat defensive as he heard the Prince's words, as if he thought Tytan would start mocking him.

"Well we'll need to put that to the test today then. I did after all tell Robb that I would buy a drink for any man able to land a blow on me, bastards included." Tytan said cheerily as he glanced over at Robb.

"You would fight a bastard?" Jon replied incredulously.

"I did just say I would, didn't I? Tytan replied with a shrug as he saw that his brother Joffrey had stopped his laughing as he heard that and instead was looking over at Tytan in disapproval, the younger boy obviously not thinking much of Tytan's decision, not that Tytan gave a damn. "After all on the field of battle it's more likely I will fight some bastard solider than some highborn, they do out number us somewhat after all…."

Jon grunted as he heard that, giving Tytan a short nod, acknowledging he had a point.

Holding back a sigh at the less than personable bastard's reactions, Tytan instead looked over at his uncle. A grin crossing his face as he saw his uncle was looking a bit tired, the man lacking in his usual dry humour as he instead just went through the motions. "What about you Jamie, fancy joining us? It's been a while since you and I had a chance to spar."

"I think I'll give it a pass for now." Jamie replied dryly as he moved so he was standing by a nearby wall, his plate armour clanking slightly and his white cloak dragging in the mud.

"Suit yourself." Tytan replied with a shrug.

"Alright then, who'll go first?" Ser Rodrik spoke up as he approached the group, eyeing all of their weapons and armour to make sure it was all appropriate for the field, his gaze lingering on the Prince's weapons for a moment as he noticed that both blades were sharpened steel. "Though my Prince if you are to fight I would request that you use training blades, I don't want you boys cutting each other to strips after all."

Tytan shrugged as he heard that before taking of his belt and attached swords and handing them over to Jamie, not to bothered about using the blunter but slightly heavier training blades. After all the idea wasn't to cut each other to pieces, and although he was confident in his own abilities he knew that mistakes could happen, and an inexperienced swordsman like Robb could hurt himself against an experienced swordsman like Tytan if he got overeager.

Nodding along, both Robb and Tytan walked into the centre of the ring. The two of them taking up training swords from the racks around the periphery of the training yard, before grabbing simple iron rimmed shields as well. Both Robb and Tytan getting ready as they faced off in the centre of the training yard. Robb looking very tense as he held his shield out in front of him, his blade held at the ready. Whilst Tytan looked more relaxed, his shield held at his side, as he absentmindedly took a few swings with the training sword, getting used to the increased weight and decreased length of the blade when compared to his own sword.

"When you're both ready begin, when I tell you to stop though, you both stop." Rodrik spoke up again, a slight frown on his face as he realised that these two men were both very important, one of them being the future King whilst the other was the future Warden of the North, which meant that if anything bad happened then it would be his head that rolled.

"You got it." Tytan said airily as he gripped his sword, his eyes sharpening as he looked over at the tense Robb. "You ready then Stark?"

"When you are Baratheon." Robb replied his eyes narrowed a she began to cautiously approached Tytan, his blue eyes fixed on the tip of Tytan's blade, an uneasy feeling rising up in him as he saw the Prince's seemingly relaxed stance.

Seeing this Tytan rushed forward sweeping Robb's blade to one side with his own before unleashing a kick at Robb's shield, the force of the blow making Robb stagger backwards his blade almost flying out of his hands as he fought to keep his feet.

Following this up Tytan slashed his sword at Robb forcing the Start to raise his shield to block it, only for Tytan to then ram his own shield into the Stark and send him stumbling backwards again, this time the Stark landing on his arse. Robb having to struggle to get up quickly as he expected the Prince to be on him in a moment, only for Tytan to not take the advantage.

"Well at least you can block." Tytan said teasingly as he backed off and allowed Robb time to recover, knowing as he did that if he had kept on with the attack he could have finished the spar, however that wasn't very fun.

Rolling his shoulder Robb regathered himself, taking a low position as he tried to keep his distance from the casually standing Tytan. His mind racing as he tried to figure out a way to fight Tytan, knowing as he did that the Prince wasn't just a more experienced fighter than Robb, he was also far more skilled. "You don't make it easy."

"Well where would the fun in that be?" Tytan asked with a quick smile, before he lunged forward, his blade piercing through the air.

Robb though was quicker on the mark this time, as he threw his shield out, parrying Tytan's attack, before with a shout he tried to strike the Crown Prince. Not that this caught Tytan unawares as with barely a single movement his blade deflected Robb's strike with a flick of his wrist, his eyes absentmindedly noting Robb's form and predicting his movements before he proceeded to parry half a dozen more of Robb's slashes and stabs, Tytan's blade work quick and efficient, leaving no gaps in his defense.

After about a minute of this Tytan decided to take the offensive this time, as without warning he swung his sword out at Robb, his blows precisely aimed as he kept flicking and deflect Robb's blade away, leaving his chest open. With Robb being forced completely on the defensive as he sheltered behind his shield, weathering the brunt of Tytan's attacks. His arms beginning to ache and his breath getting shorter.

Seeing this Tytan rammed his shield forwards again, this time hitting the face of Robb's shield with his own, the force of the blow knocking Robb back and breaking his low stance. Unlike the last time Tytan did this though, this time he capitalized on the blow, as faster than most would think possible he darted forwards, his blade finding a gap in the staggering Robb's defense as it struck him in the shoulder, in the gap between Robb's breastplate and pauldron. Following this up Tytan lashed out with his shield, the blow this time knocking Robb off his feet and onto his arse.

"And that'll do!" Rodrik Cassel shouted loudly as he looked between the two young men.

As the spar ended the people around the training yard began to politely clap, a few of the Baratheon and Lannister guardsmen letting out cheers as their famous Prince defeated the Heir of the North. Not that many of those present had expected any different, after all the Crown Prince's reputation as a fighter was well known even up in the North.

"Good fight Robb." Tytan said as he stabbed his training sword into the ground and instead helped pull Robb to his feet. The young Stark absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder, a dull ache beginning to form, from where the Prince had landed his blow. The training sword being too blunt to breach the mail, had still probably left a bit of a bruise.

"Yeah you too. Have to say you are as good as they say, I barely even had a chance there." Robb replied as he turned and picked up his sword, giving Tytan a slight grin as he acknowledged the better fighter.

"Don't be too downhearted, there are very few fights that last longer than a couple of minutes. Most fights on the battlefield are decided after a couple of blows, or are interrupted by the melee of combat." Tytan replied, sensing Robb might be a bit disappointed with the fight. Speaking the truth as he knew that drawn out fights very rarely happened, as a single mistake no matter how skilled someone was could leave enough of an opening that could end the fight.

"I suppose." Robb grunted as he looked up at Tytan. "Though now you have to face off with Jon, and he might be a match for you."

"I welcome the challenge." Tytan smiled wryly at that, even as he saw a scowling Jon picking up a training blade and a shield. His expression very reminiscent of Ned Starks as he walked onto the training yard, giving Tytan a flat look as he did so.

Standing opposite each other, Tytan continued to maintain his relaxed stance, his gaze shifting from Jon as he instead look around the yard. Noting as he did the excited looks on Theon and Robb's faces, as well as the bored look on Jamie, clearly his uncle thought he had better things to do. Then again he was not accompanying Tytan on the hunt with his father and Ned Stark this afternoon, so he could deal with it.

On the opposite side of the yard he could see the sneering face of Joffrey, his brother looking somewhat eager as he watched the goings on. Not that Tytan was under any illusion that Joffrey was supporting him, no the little shit probably either wanted to watch Tytan lose, or more likely to die in an accident so the younger brother could be King. Like that would ever happen.

Pulling his gaze from his scheming younger brother, Tytan instead looked over at the bastard of Winterfell, inspecting his stance, the way he held his sword and the way his gaze didn't just lock on Tytan's blade but on his footwork as well. The boy's technique looked better than his half-brothers, but whether it would last in a fight was debatable. Often times as a fight progressed people got more and more desperate, as too di their style and technique.

For a moment the two were silent as they weighed each other up, the silence however only lasted for a few moment though before Jon snow made the first move. The young bastard darting forwards as he slashed at Tytan with a shout, not putting his all into the blow as he kept his shield raised in case of a counterattack. Jon having deduced that Tytan wasn't going to make the first move, but knowing the Prince was likely to skilled to be taken out by a single rush.

With a flick of his wrist Tytan batted the blade away before taking a step forward and slamming his shield into Jon, sending him staggering back with incredible ease and strength, almost knocking Jon off his feet. Making a mockery of the bastard's preparations as he instead scrambled to remain standing.

Frowning Tytan then motioned for Jon to try again a bit disappointed with the lack luster first attempt, especially considering how much Robb had hyped up Jon's skills. "Come on young bastard don't be afraid to hit me, hell I encourage it, if you manage to land a blow I will give you fifty gold dragons!"

The people around the training yard began to murmur at that, some of them acting quite surprised that the Crown Prince would actually encourage some bastard born boy to strike him. Over to one side Joffrey's lip curled up as he saw the inappropriateness of Tytan's actions, knowing as he did that he would have any man who dared to strike him flogged, he certainly wouldn't reward them. Which in Joffrey's mind was yet another reason why Tytan would be ill-suited to the throne.

As for Jon his eyes widened slightly, before he grit his teeth and held his sword tighter, knowing as he did that he had already been trying to hit the Prince, and coming to the conclusion from past experiences that the man was likely now mocking him.

"Come on young Snow, give us a good fight, your brother told me last night that you're one of the best blades in Winterfell!" Tytan tried to encourage, hoping to get the boy to fight him probably, after all only Jamie and Ser Barristan Selmy were able to give him a proper fight, and fighting the same people over and over got stale and boring. He had even tried fighting multiple opponents at once, but found that the lack of teamwork and the difference in skill was not enough to give him a true challenge.

Letting out a shout Jon rushed Tytan again, the Crown Prince throwing aside his iron rimmed shield as he instead just used his training sword, Tytan wielding the blade with either one hand or two depending on the situation. Hoping that this might make the fight a little more interesting.

Within moments the two met in combat, Tytan having to play a lot more tactical game now he didn't have a shield. The two of them beginning to get faster Jon not even getting close to striking the Prince, only just managing to keep up through liberal use of his shield. The Prince changing up his style as he delivered quick one handed strikes, followed by heavy two handed blows, the suddenness of the change keeping Jon on edge and giving the bastard a few bruises as he wasn't able to avoid all of the strikes.

As the fight progressed Jon began to get frustrated, having never found himself outclassed like this before. Which is why with a yell he rushed the Prince and tried to ram his shield into him so he could stagger Tytan and give himself an opening, Jon's blade held low and ready so he could ram it forwards past his shield when he got the opportunity.

"You're trying too hard Jon. Your moves are getting more desperate!" Tytan said irritably as he saw what Jon was doing, before with a grunt he allowed Jon to rush him, moving so he avoided Jon's jabbing blade by going round the other side of his shield so he was now behind him.

Twisting round Jon went for another slash, only for Tytan to predict it as he stepped forward and locked his blade with Jon's, the Prince's strength coming into play as with a twist of his wrist he disarmed Jon his blade flying a few feet away, before in a simple maneuver he stuck his right leg behind both of Jon's and rammed him with his shoulder knocking the bastard onto his arse.

"And that's the match!" Rodrik Cassel shouted out, making his present known as he walked into the yard, placing a firm hand on Jon's shoulder as he pushed himself back to his feet. "Well fought my Prince."

"Thanks." Tytan replied easily as he lowered his sword, giving Rodrik a friendly smile as he did so before looking over at Jon. "You fought well to Jon!"

Jon nodded abruptly at that, his face bathed in sweat and his cheeks flushed. "My Prince."

Giving another nod Tytan then looked around the yard, noting that a small crowd had built up to watch, including young Arya Stark who was looking down at the yard form a wooden balcony attached to the keep, an excited expression on her face, her gaze never leaving Tytan. The girl not sure what impressed her more his skill with a blade or his ability to control water.

"Right so who's next?" Tytan said with a grin as he looked around the yard.

( - )

It was later that day after another hour or so of sparring, followed by a quick top off wash that Tytan, still in his mail and leather armour, soon found himself mounted on a horse in the courtyard of Winterfell. Watching alongside, the King and Ned Stark as a number of guardsmen and servants went about the preparations for a midafternoon hunt, one the King had insisted on having. Tytan being present at his father's insistence, the fat man often saying that hunting was one of the true ways a man can prove that he is a man.

Currently Tytan was sat in his saddle a bored look on his face as he watched the goings on, his ever-present shadow Jamie not here at the moment as he had instead been assigned elsewhere by orders of the Queen. As if Tytan couldn't guess what that meant, not that he would begrudge his uncle and his mother their moment of happiness. Still it did mean he lost his partner in crime for the rest of the day and instead had to deal with his father's company alone and without a buffer.

"You as good with a spear as you used to be?" Robert said loudly as he looked over to Ned Stark a large grin present on his face, the fat man clearly getting excited for the blood sport to come.

"No… but I'm still better than you." Ned replied with a chuckle, his stoic expression breaking into a slight smile, one of the first signs of genuine emotion Tytan had seen on the Stark's face.

"I know what I'm putting you through. Thank you for saying yes. I only asked because I need you. You're a loyal friend, you hear me? A loyal friend. One of the last I've got." Robert said as he reached over and clapped Ned on the shoulder, gripping it to emphasis his point.

Tytan inferring from this that the King had offered Ned the position of Hand, not that the offer was an optional one.

"I hope I serve you well." Ned said with a nod of his head, before he glanced over at Tytan.

"You will. And I'll make sure you don't look so fucking grim all the time!" Robert said as he chuckled, digging his heels into the flanks of his horse as he began to trot forwards.

"And there goes my father, the King…." Tytan said dryly from where he was next to Ned, getting the Northern Lord's attention as he did so.

"Robert's a good man." Ned replied as he looked over at Tytan curiously.

"I've heard he was a good warrior, and a decent enough commander." Tytan agreed with a nod, not mentioning what the man was like as a father, a person or a King. "So I hear you're coming south with us."

"The King has offered me the position of Hand." Ned replied with a nod of his head, not acknowledging to Tytan whether or not he had accepted the King's offer.

"Well a piece of advice then." Tytan said as he looked over at Ned, still not particularly liking him due to his treatment of his Tytan's uncle Jamie, and the way his words had damaged the man's reputation and honour. "King's Landing isn't like the North, the people there… they talk in half-truths and false promises."

"And what do you mean by that?" Ned asked as he turned in his horse and stared at the Prince.

"Just that you should be careful whilst in King's Landing." Tytan replied simply as he urged his horse onwards, ignoring the equines bitching as it started forwards heading for the rest of the party. Tytan seeing no more point in helping Ned Stark, after all he didn't like the man and owed him no favours, with the advice he had given being for his families benefit, after all Robb and Arya, the two Starks he sort of liked, would be pretty upset if their father got himself killed.

Seeing this Ned Stark scowled slightly, somewhat confused about just what the Prince was saying but acknowledging it all the same.

( - )

(Sometime Later with Bran Stark)

Sometime after the King's party had headed out on their hunt, Bran Stark had gotten back to doing what he loved most, fearlessly climbing up and down the towers and walls of Winterfell. Reveling in the excitement he felt from being up so high.

Currently he was climbing up the old abandoned tower, an unused tower that had fallen into disrepair more than a decade ago. His hands and feet moving with practiced ease as he found the familiar handholds, quickly ascending the tower and reaching the top, his attention soon being drawn to the sound of a woman's moaning, which could be heard coming from one of the windows.

Climbing over to the window Bran looked in only to rear back in shock at what he saw inside. Jamie Lannister and his twin sister, the Queen Cersei Baratheon were coupling together, like a married man and a woman would.

The two of them fiercely and vigorously making love, oblivious to all else. Or at least they were until Jamie pulled his sister into his chest as he kissed her neck, putting Cersei in the perfect positon to see Bran staring at them through the window.

Which inevitably led to her telling Jamie, who within moments was across to the window and holding Bran tightly. Stopping him from trying to climb down and escape, his shirt bunched up in Jamie's fist as the larger man held him tight.

"Are you completely mad?" Jamie asked his tone soft and calm, showing none of the panic one would usually expect.

"He saw us." Cersei said in a panicked state, trying to pull up her dress and give herself some semblance of modesty as she realised the Stark boy had seen everything.

"Quite the little climber aren't you." Jamie continued to ask, his tone soft and calm as he looked curiously and almost sadly at the young boy. "How old are you?"

"Ten." Bran stammered out nervously, knowing as he did that he had just stumbled upon something very dangerous, a sense of foreboding rising up within him.

"Ten." Jamie said his tone definitely sad, though still firm with resolve as he looked over at Cersei. "The things I do for love." Jamie continued before he pushed Bran out the window causing him to fall to the ground below. The young boy not even being able to let out a cry of shock as he plummeted to the hard and unforgiving ground, his head and limbs striking the side of the stone tower as he fell.

( - )

AN: So that is the chapter, I hope you all enjoyed it?

Now I know some people may be surprised that Bran still fell from the tower, but in my opinion I see so many stories where the MC saves Bran from falling, but the reasons are all so… insubstantial and come down to simply because the author wanted them to. For me Percy/Tytan hasn't had much interaction with Bran so doesn't know about his climbing, on top of which he has no real connection with him. On top of which if the King went on a hunt it was likely that both his heir and Ned's would be expected to come. Hence why Tytan wouldn't happen to be hanging around the bottom of a tower. As for why Jamie and Cersei were still together, that is because Robert was away and they would take this chance. Tytan's presence wouldn't have changed that.

Now as for pairings, I have decided to leave final parings for now as I want to develop the story more and let it evolve naturally not force it so it follows a pairing that makes sense now but might not as the story develops. That being said flings often happen and I find Ros an underused and interesting character.

Other than that though I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and leave a review. On top of which I am still open to recommended Game of Thrones stories.

Thanks for reading.

Greed720.

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