Chapter 84

"I see…"

I stare at the letter spread out before me, humming in thought. The Wildlings are moving south, but they're still fractured. There is no central leader yet. That means Mance Rayder hasn't united them, hasn't taken up the mantle of King Beyond the Wall.

We're not quite at the canon timeline yet, but the pieces are starting to fall into place. In a few more years, everything will begin to unfold. Before that happens, I need to ensure that the Seven Kingdoms don't have more power than they did in the original timeline.

And I just had the perfect idea to make that happen.

"Melisandre."

She steps forward, her crimson robes brushing softly against the floor as she bows slightly. "Yes, my lord?"

"Write a letter to Ferrego. Tell him to offer the Seven Kingdoms a generous loan through the Iron Bank. Let them borrow as much as they need—but make sure Ferrego uses my vault as collateral to shut the Keyholders when they think I only want to use their treasury without any compensation. I want this to become a trap, something they willingly walk into. When we go to war against them, I want Ferrego to pressure them for repayment."

Melisandre's lips curl into a thoughtful smirk. "Shall I ask Jaqen to spread a few rumors? Perhaps tales of the Stag King and his unfaithful queen squandering coins like water on silks and jewels?"

"That would be helpful, yes."

Desperation makes fools of men. And nothing makes a kingdom collapse faster than debt. They'll be forced to gamble on a quick war if they're drowning in financial ruin. They'll rush to battle, hoping for an easy victory—and that will be their undoing.

Especially when whispers begin to spread. Whispers of a king spending his kingdom's treasury on luxuries while the people suffer. With the right words in the right ears, the public's trust will crumble.

"Besides that…" I pause, eyes drifting toward the northern map pinned to the far wall. "I want to test something. It might sound reckless, but I want to establish a base beyond the Wall. We'll need it eventually, when the Great Enemy begins to stir."

Melisandre gives a solemn nod. "When shall we begin the journey?"

"Not for some time. We need to finish our current projects first. But we'll keep it in mind. That land will become a battleground one day, and we must be prepared."

"I understand, my lord. I am pleased that you're already thinking ahead. Lord R'hllor will be pleased as well."

I nod, though I say nothing. I don't follow the Red God, not truly. But I don't go out of my way to offend him, either. After all, even the Stranger—Death itself—has tasked me with this mission. And no one in their right mind defies death.

"For now, let's focus on completing the capital. Once Solaris is stable, we'll move on to the other cities."

Solaris is still a kingdom in its infancy. There's too much to do and far too little time. The Seven Kingdoms are a looming threat. The Others are an even greater one. I need all kinds of help I can get.

A new idea crosses my mind. Jaqen's network is growing steadily. Perhaps it's time to tap into King's Landing again. The Alchemists' Guild… they've long been oppressed by the crown. Only when Cersei needed them to battle Stannis did they re-emerge. They might be willing to shift allegiance for the right reasons.

"Melisandre, what do you think about inviting the Alchemists from King's Landing to work with us? They still know how to make Wildfire, and that could be useful against the Others."

Her expression darkens at the mention of them.

"I do not like them," she replies, her tone sharp. "They believe they can tame fire. They think it bends to their will. Fools. Fire is no slave. But…" Her expression softens just slightly. "If Lord R'hllor agrees with your plan, I will put aside my disdain. I will consult the flames before giving you an answer."

"That's all I'm asking," I say.

Wildfire is volatile, yes, but it's a weapon—and a powerful one. Fire harms the Others, though not fatally. Perhaps Wildfire, with its magical essence, will do more. It's worth testing.

"One more thing," I add, turning back toward her. "I want to build a temple for R'hllor. A grand one. The one in Lunaria will serve as the central pilgrimage site, but that doesn't mean we can't build something magnificent here."

A slow, radiant smile spreads across her face. She begins describing the perfect location, her voice alight with passion, already seeing it in her mind's eye.

==||==

The clang of steel echoes through the training yard.

"You need to swing with more force, Dany."

"Hyah!"

Daenerys lunges forward, swinging her blade with all her strength. I parry easily, redirecting her blow and stepping aside. She stumbles, landing on her rear with a soft grunt.

I sheathe my sword and offer her a hand.

"It's hard," she mutters, accepting my help and standing.

I chuckle. "I warned you. Swordsmanship is tougher than reading books and listening to lectures."

"I know," she pouts, brushing dirt off her clothes. "But I'll keep learning. If I'm to be a proper queen, I must learn to fight."

I sigh a little. She's made her intentions clear—publicly and privately. In her mind, she is already my wife. She claims it's tradition; unfortunately, Melisandre has been fueling that fire.

According to her, the Targaryens have been falling from grace ever since they turned their backs on the old ways. Dany soaked up those words like a sponge. Now, she sees it as her duty to restore tradition.

I'll need to talk to her about it, eventually. When there's time. When all the major projects are done, and I have time to talk to her alone.

"Do you want to keep training?" I ask, adjusting my gloves. "Or would you prefer to do something else?"

She bites her lip, thinking for a moment before her face brightens.

"Let's go to the fish market!" she says excitedly. "I want to buy something fresh for my children. They've been eating a lot more lately, and it's been a while since I fed them myself."

By "children," of course, she means the dragons. She truly takes her title as Mother of Dragons seriously just because I am the Father of Dragons.

Anyway, ever since we hatched them, a group of devoted priestesses has taken it upon themselves to care for them. To the faithful of R'hllor, the dragons are sacred, divine creatures. Feeding them is an act of worship, a holy privilege.

Still, Dany enjoys doing it herself whenever she can.

"Alright," I reply. "Let's go. I heard there's a new food vendor at the market, too. I've been meaning to try it."