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Chapter 1

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

Special thanks to Deer-Shifter for making this chapter better than it had any rights to be! I look forward to working with ya!

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chap 1

*** King's Landling***

Sixteen year old Mordred Baratheon stalked through the halls of the Red Keep,; here and there servants scrambled to get out of her way. There were a few guardsmen that weren't quick enough for her, so she pretended to lunge at them. The look of fear in their eyes inwardly made her happy.

'Ah, the fresh taste of fear in the morning.'

"Sister! Please, can I take off this armour yet?" Joffrey Baratheon, Crown Prince, pleaded with his elder sister.

Mordred immediately stopped and felt Joffrey crash into her. Naturally the little wimp ended up on his ass due to the impact. He wasn't much of a man. Hell, she was ten times the man she was and she wasn't even a male!

"Are you..." Mordred began in a dangerous tone of voice as she turned to face her one year younger little brother. "…talking back to me?"

"N-No! Of course not, dear-sweet-beloved-kind sister!" Joffrey immediately bowed his head to beg for forgiveness. "It's just, we've been at it for hours now and I am... slightly winded."

Mordred curled her lip in disgust at the lack of iron in her brother' spine. Hours of training were NOTHING back in Camelot. Ugh. Half the people in here would be eaten alive by her father, her REAL Father, if they had ever met on the battlefield.

"You may go to mother's solar and take a break with the other women of the Keep," Mordred jab, making the blonde boy bristle in shame and humiliation. She couldn't help but smirk if he was going to be king, then she would make him at least a suitable one; a daunting task she knew but nothing worthwhile ever came easily. Of course, the fact that she instilled fear and obedience in him toward her meant she would be king in all but name.

Yes...

"Mordred! That is no way to talk to the future king!" Cersei admonished her daughter, coming from the opposite end of the hallway. The woman looked every inch the queen, with her golden blonde hair and piercing green eyes. Her beauty apparently only had grown as she aged.

"Mother," Mordred intoned with a slight tilt of her head but did not bow. She did hear the relieved exhalation behind her from Joffrey. Weakling.

The two blonde-haired beauties eyed each other: one a beautiful woman, the other a girl that was consider the jewel of the kingdom already.

Mordred really had nothing but disgust and contempt for her mother and both of her fathers. The only redeeming quality however was that her mother genuinely loves her children. But to think that she along with all of her brother and sisters were a product of incest was a constant reminder of her true origin.

Of course thoughts of her true origin lead her to think about her true father and her father's wonderful kingdom. Not the fucking cesspool that is King's Landling. If she had a copper coin for every scheme hatched here in the Red Keep alone, she'd be the richest woman in all of Westeros.

"Jon Arryn has died, your father is beside himself with grief," Cersei made the statement as if she was casually observing the weather. Looking at her daughter again, she gave her a knowing look. "Perhaps you can cheer him up."

"Damn crybaby," Mordred rolled her eyes in contempt and saw the small smirk from her mother's lips. The people here were also a lot more emotional than the hardened men of Britannia. Why, Gawain barely even cried when Lancelot took out his brothers!

Nodding her head, she made for her 'father's' room to snap him from his funk before he started on his little whoring binge.

Cersei watched her daughter go and felt nothing but pride in her little lioness. The girl was the best of Jaime AND herself, perfectly combined. Mordred had her cunning and Jaime's ferocity in armed combat. If only she had been a boy! Then the throne would have been completely secure. She had a feeling that, if her daughter ever ended up as king, no one would ever be able to pry the crown from her hands. Mordred also had one other thing that was hard to come by for the rest of her children. Robert's attention.

From the shadows, Cersei had observed how her daughter had manipulated the king to what she wanted from an early age. The most audacious case of manipulation came on Mordred's name day, when a tournament had been held in her honor. Robert and Cersei had been discussing who best to wed her off to, to further strengthen their hold on the Seven Kingdoms. So it had been a shock to all when Mordred had declared for all to hear, after she had been crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty, that she would only marry if a man could best her in combat.

Naturally Cersei would not stand for that and neither would Robert. Yet that was when Mordred exploited Robert's weakness. Somehow, over the years, the little girl, as if planning for the very day of her nameday, had over four hundred gold coins of her own and slyly made a wager with her father.

She had challenged him and tweaked his nose with a wager. Robert, who was also quite fond of gambling, hated to lose, especially against such insolence. So she wagered that she could beat any three men of Robert's choosing and if they could defeat her than she would obey him without question and pack her bags accordingly.

Cersei remembered that scene clear as day. Robert had glared at his willful daughter. Her daughter had stared back unflinchingly doing nothing but dangling the gold purse coin in her hand. Robert had let loose a booming laugh and sent three of the Kingsguard squires, boys older than her by at least four name days, to duel his daughter.

To this day, Jaime swore it was not him that taught their daughter swordplay. Her strokes were too vicious, her strength surprising for someone of her frame. Clad in only chain mail, she had defeated the first squire with ease, humiliated the second, and only when Robert called her off did she spare the third. The words that she had uttered afterward made Robert noticed her from that day onwards.

'Ours is the Fury, right father?'

Never could Cersei ever imagined Robert's eyes beaming with pride in ANY of her children. His eyes shone with it that day for Mordred and he made the declaration. If anyone wished to wed Mordred, they would have to best her in combat.

Of course that was when Cersei's father, Tywin Lannister, decided to set his hand against her daughter. He had plans for Mordred; he had wanted to expand Lannister's influence through the Seven kingdom. In a move that surprised many, Mordred had confronted Tywin while he was talking to Robert about the girl's future.

Cersei consider herself brave, but against her father, even she falters. The confrontation between Mordred and Tywin had solidified the girl firmly in Robert's good graces and sent an enraged Tywin back to Casterly Rock.

So it had come as a surprise to her that as soon as Mordred had been able, she had distanced herself from her own mother. The distance increased with each child she birthed, hoping it would bring them closer together. Yet, while Mordred was beloved by her siblings, the girl's warmth had all but disappeared for Cersei. If not for her other children she would have been very distraught, instead now her firstborn lack of affection was only now a dull ache.

+++ King's Study+++

The door slamed open, making a grieving Robert to look up from his desk and see his favorite daughter entering.

"Go away, I do not have energy to humor you today, doe."

"Yet you will have enough energy to humor the whores of the city later?" Mordred replied bluntly to her fat oaf of a king, causing him to grow furious.

"YOU DARE SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT?!" King Robert Baratheon of the Seven Kingdoms rose to his full height and bellow at the smaller girl.

"I DARE!" Mordred roared back, not backing down from the fury of the king. She had faced King Arthur Pendragon; there is no Sovereign on this Earth that could cow her.

"I should strike you for your insolence, girl!" Robert began to stalk over to his daughter.

"So you fight like a woman now?" Mordred taunted haughtily as she began to retreat into the courtyard. "With empty threats and slaps? Come fight me as the renowned warrior you're know for if you have the guts!"

Robert was all but seeing red now and grabbed his war hammer and charged at his daughter.

At one point in time, Robert had been a fighter worth over twenty men. It was he who killed the Rhaegar in single combat. Now, he was older, fatter; whoring, eating and gambling had taken its toll on him. His daughter let him vent his rage for a few minutes before he began to tire out from the exertion. Slowly, the attacks tapered off and Robert backed away from the girl. Her face looked none the worse for wear; she didn't even look winded.

"Have you vented your fury?" Mordred asked in a neutral tone, her sword, stabbed into the ground looking at king of the seven kingdoms.

"... I swear, you will be the death of me one day," Robert muttered, as his fury, sorrow and sadness drained away.

"No, I think the disease you catch from your whores will do you in first," Mordred replied, and was rewarded with a booming laugh.

"You smart-mouthed runt, I can't wait for a man to finally shut it up when he beats you into submission," Robert grunted as he picked his war hammer back up and went into the study. Looking left and right, he saw his Kingsguard had not interfered. They knew better.

"If you can manage to stay away from your drinking long enough, you might get to see that day," Mordred shot back sardonically, as she gripped the king and let him lean against her.

"You might as well ask the sun not to rise tomorrow, or the moon to never appear again," Robert lamented and looked at his daughter, who really took after her mother in looks, fondly. Not for the first time, he wished she was a man so he could pass the throne on to her. Now, she would have been a worthy heir; even Jon had agreed.

"So, after you bury him, are you going to be finding yourself a new Hand?" Mordred inquired before she smirked. "Can it be me?"

"HAH!" Robert laughed at the girl and gave her a level look. "Don't you know the Hand cleans up after the king's shit? Are you telling me you want to clean up after my shit?"

"No, but with the position of the Hand, taking the throne from Joffrey should be easy," Mordred told her father, before adding , "and it would deny grandfather a position of power."

Robert grinned widely then, his friend's death no longer as hurtful as it once been. The fact that his daughter despised the Old Lion of Casterly Rock had been a surprise both to him and Jon Arryn. That she stood up against the old coot and made him leave sputtering in anger was one of his fondest memories to this day. She was truly his daughter.

"I wish, but the pricks on the councils would not have it; they would nag me to the ends of the earth if I did that," Robert explained in a dark tone of voice. Oddly enough, his daughter seem to care little for her mother, which was strange cause the woman clearly loved the girl. Took pride in the girl's achievement. "No, I think I have the perfect replacement for the Hand's position."

"Well, it was worth a shot," Mordred shrugged, and after having made sure that her 'father' was no longer in a funk, left. She knew the fat bastard would not have long to live. She had seen men like that before; no, there were too many forces conspiring to end the man, Jon Arryn had literally been the only one that was keeping the King alive. With him gone, if the new Hand is not up to the task, then Robert Baratheon would be dead within the year.

***Winterfell***

"Father, I think I am dying," Shirou Emiya, born Sansa Stark in this new world, announced to her father as she entered his study early before the castle had awakened. The expression of pure shock on his face would have been comical under any other circumstances.

"WHAT?!" Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, shouted as he got up to look at his pretty daughter, who looked far too calm after making such a declaration.

"I am dying, Father," Sansa-Shirou repeated again and sighed. It was a good run in her new life; she had tried to help as many people as she could, but her magecraft either did not transfer to or work in this new world. She had to build up her strength the normal way, with patience and time.

Eddard Stark, already at the girl's side, look over his obedient daughter with great concern, trying to find out why she would make such a proclamation when she looked perfectly fine.

"You don't any visible injur-."

That was when he saw it, her night gown had blood below the pelvis line. Eddard Stark's, veteran of t Robert's Rebellion, slayer of Ser Arthur Dayne, face paled as he knew exactly what was wrong with his daughter. After all he had went through this same situation when his sister first flowered.

"LUWIN!"

+++ Later that Afternoon+++

Shirou Emiya, born Sansa Stark, stared listlessly out over the castle walls as her brother played in the courtyard. She kept on replaying the morning over and over in her mind. Her face reddened in embarrassment. Shirou had never paid that much attention to biology in school and so when Sansa had what they called her 'flowering' she was caught unaware.

She decided that if she could only talk to one person before she died, it would be the stern father figure in her life. A man who truly loved her for all of her quirk, and a person that taught her how to balance trying to be a hero and being a fool. He and he alone taught her how cruel the world could be, yet how much good it still contained. So she would say her thanks before she departed this world.

All of which now meant jack when she found out what exactly happened to her.

'Oh Sansa darling, it just means you are ready to be a mother now.'

The Shirou part of Sansa recoiled in disgust at the thought, it was official, the reincarnated Shirou is now one hundred percent female. Proof of her induction into womanhood might still be on her bed.

"Ar- Are you okay Sansa?"

Sansa turned around to face her overprotective brother, Jon Snow. The boy, no, man now, looked worriedly at her. Giving him a small smile she nodded. "You should get down there soon, Bran and Robb were looking for you."

"Right, of course," Jon nodded as he gave his sister a hug before breaking it. "If you don't feel well, please get some rest. After all, we can't have the mistress of the kitchen be sick now can we?"

Sansa mock glared at her older brother. "So that what this was really about!"

"Well yeah!" Jon returned her playfulness in the same manner. "I don't think any of Father's bannerman will cause any trouble for fear of being banned from the feastdays."

Sansa huffed indignantly at her brother observation but inwardly was smug as smug can be. While Shirou's magecraft might not be with her, his skill in the kitchen and in other household duties were second to none. The master cooks in the kitchen were now mere extension of her hands. Being the daughter of the Lord of the North, it was unseemly for her to be cooking all the time, yet when she does, which would be twice a week, it was pure bliss to her. Granted the tools she had to work with were less than ideal, bu Emiya Shirou, Master Chef, will not be denied!

"And between you and me? I am pretty sure Theon's loyalty is firmly with our family now, the thought of missing one of your meals have caused him nightmares." Jon arched an eyebrow before kissing his little sister above her eyebrow.

Sansa accepted it and did not recoil anymore like when she was younger. It was another thing the Shirou part of her have come to live with: affection, open affection between family. Something Shirou never had with his father except for kind words. She liked this way better if she was honest with herself.

In about three years' time, Shirou would have been living as a girl for as long as Shirou had been alive as a boy. However, her life as a girl had already surpassed her memories of that life as a boy. It had been a strange thing and day by day, she felt that it was easier to think of herself as Sansa Stark. Still she had memories as Shirou before he was killed that fateful day in school by a spearman.

Of course Shirou had railed against her new life initially, but day by day, the pure love her family showered her with had gradually changed her. Perhaps that might be why she did not have the ability to use magecraft anymore. Shirou considered himself birthed during the Fuyuki fire. Any memories of the boy before that had been completely erased. That boy's life, with his dream and aspiration, had died with him on that school night.

Then the boy had been reborn into this new world. It was not the past as she originally thought, the entire landmass on the map was wrong. Gradually, the experience of this life began to even the scales of the memories of the boy from Japan. It had come as a complete surprise to her when exactly after ten years, she came to think of herself in the feminine pronoun. Her sudden sullenness that day had worried her family; they had tried all sort of way to get her to cheer up, to smile. Her father had gotten the best doctors in the land to come and look at her.

She knew they cared for and loved her, the knowledge had always been there, but the Shirou part of her, her other half, refused to let anyone in, refused to believe it was possible. However, she too was Sansa and a Stark and willed the other disbelieving half to accept her new family's affection, to feel it for what it really was... unconditional love.

After that day, she no longer considered herself just Shirou but that Shirou was her other half, his memories were real, his cooking skill had made her infamous through the northland. Her precision with the bow surpassed any archer in the North, and if she was to be honest, probably in the south too. Her sword abilities were decent, better than average but her build did not afford her much power between her strikes. Arya had received Needle from Jon; maybe she can get a Katana, a weapon from Shirou's world, fashion for her also. It would be smaller and easier for her to use than the western style swords they used here.

Perhaps maybe even two.

++++Six Months Later+++

"Here Taiga! Here girl," Sansa grinned as she tossed the ball at her newly named direwolf puppy which seemed to be about the size of a small dog... she wondered how big it could get.

"That's a dog, not a Tiger!" Rickon Stark, the youngest Stark in Winterfell corrected his sister. His own being named 'Shaggy Dog' was not that much better.

"It's Tai Ga, not Tiger," Sansa-Shirou countered having decided to name her Direwolf after her caretaker of old in an another lifetime. The Direwolves' mother had been found dead, choking on a stag antler, it's children left to fend for themselves.

It just so happened that when Eddard Stark had went north with her brothers to execute a Night's Watch's deserter that they found the puppies. The mage in Shirou, though not very good, was still knowledgeable enough to know that magic certainly existed in this world. The presence felt from the Godswood was proof of it. The fact that their ally the Baratheon house's animal was a Stag, and the Starks were wolves, was not lost on her.

She could not help but think that it was a warning sign of some sort.

"Sansa," Jon Snow, followed by Robb and Theon, called for her.

With a flick of her wrist, Taiga came to her at her beck and call, the wolf, like her old teacher was a big eater and would always demand anything she cooked as if it was expected of her. Her father had been outraged and her mother doubly so but like all things when it pertained to the kitchen, they gave into her wants. She pretty much held all of House Stark hostage as far as her cooking was involved and her demands were not too unreasonable. It really became simple.

Would you like to enjoy Sansa's cooking or stop Sansa from practicing Archery?

Would you like to enjoy Sansa's cooking or stop Sansa from learning sword play?

Would you like to enjoy Sansa's cooking or stop arguing over a minor quarrel over who stole whose sheep? That last one being from her father's bannermen.

Because the horrifying fact of the matter was that, Sansa was a nice girl, and obedient to a fault. However, if you angered her, she simply would stop cooking, along with giving the offender the silent treatment.

A silent treatment from Sansa alone might be bearable by itself, but when the children all teamed up to nag, it compounded the annoyance. Suddenly, the object of Sansa's desire seem very much like a petty thing to deny her. All in all, when Sansa wants something, Sansa gets it.

Jon smiled at his sister, who had never treated him as anything less than family. Despite Lady Catelyn's best effort to reinforce the fact that he was a bastard over and over again, his younger sister treated him like true family. In fact she had told the Lady Stark, that it simply did not matter to her. He swore he would protect her and make sure her husband to be will never hurt her in anyway. Robb and Theon also made the same oath in the Godswood with him.

"What is the matter that you have to bring Robb and Theon with you?" Sansa asked with a raised eyebrow. Her hand was resting on top of Taiga's head rubbing behind its ear.

"Father and mother just received a Raven, I believe they want to tell us something." Jon nodded as they escorted their sister through the central yard into the main keep.

Sansa noticed her Father's sad expression while her mother had a concerned look to her. Her father however seeing the arrival of his eldest children nodded. Without much preamble he bluntly stated why he wanted to see them.

"My friend, Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, has passed away. The King is on his way here to visit me with the entire Royal family."

Sansa and her brothers shared a look. The king was coming here? Her brothers however looked excited at the prospect. After all, everyone heard of the Jewel of King's Landing. The Warrior Princess Mordred.

'Huh...now where have I heard that name before...' Sansa thought to herself.

***Essos, Volantis***

"Alright Pendra, go back home or else your wife will have my head!" Nakaro Moparis, his captain and employer shouted good naturedly to his best swordsman as they re-entered the city. The chuckles from the warriors around him made the blonde haired man redden, which only made the laughter worse.

Arturia Pendragon, born Viserys Targaryen, winced at his employer good natured call as he secured his spoils of war. His 'brothers in arms' gave loud bawdy encouragement along with whistles further making the former ruler of Britannia grit his teeth.

'Damn it! How could I have been so stupid!' Arthur mentally berated himself but sighed. His sister had been quite distressed when Baratheon assassins came for them three years ago. Her tears and worries were endless at being killed. Their would-be killers was a team of ten 'knights' and twenty mercenary.

His employer that he had been working for was tortured and killed. His co-workers and their family's throats slit in the middle of the night. Luckily Arthur had kept up his training and sensed the wrongness of the ambush. What followed had been a battle that he barely walked away from. They had used underhanded means to try and kill him, but he was Arthur Pendragon, and he would not fall to such false knights.

When the battle was over, all of his attackers were dead. He fled the port city with his scared sister. The girl had calmed down somewhat but was still shaken by the attacks. It wasn't until they reached Volantis that Daenerys decided that it was best if they posed as husband and wife for the foreseeable future. Baratheon and his ilk was looking for a brother and sister duo after all. Husband and wives were more common.

So Arthur, in an effort to calm his sister down, agreed. Unfortunately... the girl had yet to relinquish that title and refused to meet any suitor for 'fear of being found by assassins again.'

He didn't want to think unkindly of his sister, but Arthur was beginning to suspect there was something more going on than met the eyes.

Luckily Volantis was known for their sellswords and thanks to a recent Dothraki attack, he was able to prove how valuable his service would be. He sold his sword to the most honorable man of the lot and had been working as part of the city defenders to repel Dotharaki raids and local skirmishes. He was also not quite sure how but the men who he once answered to, now deferred to him. His sister said that it was his natural charisma that drew men to him and his action earned their loyalty.

He had to admit that the mercenary company he had joined, the Eagle's Brood, all gave him familiar looks, looks he was used to back in Britanna. They might only be two thousand strong, but they were made up of elite fighters.

At first, Arthur had done his job as a regular sellsword and followed orders, but if there was one thing that he hated it was inefficiency. It started with a few suggestion, then the result he got when he was put in charge of a group of five was noteworthy. With ten it was surprising, in a mercenary company, the more talent you possessed the better the pay. Eventually they gave him more responsibilities and in turn he finished their jobs more efficiently with little to no loss of men. Slowly, without realizing it, Arthur had turned them into an army with his 'suggestions' that were unmatched by very few mercenary bands of their size. In time they earned his trust and that of Daenerys. Being in such a mercenary group kept her protected quite well when he had to travel further for his work. His sister was protected and she was not bored as she had befriended the wives and daughters of his companions.

Funny how life worked out, from fleeing for their lives to surviving on their own only to find attainable peace in this strange land.

"Oh Arthur! Your home," a curvy housewife greeted from the door step of her home as she saw the blonde haired man. "Care to... visit for some refreshments?"

Arthur was taken out of his musings and looked at the woman. She was a lovely woman, younger than him by at least two years, and was looking at him as if he was a meal. This was not the first time, so with as much grace as he could he looked the woman straight in the eye.

"I am afraid I would have to decline, my... wife comes first, you understand?"

The shyly averted her eyes, as her face took on a reddish tint. The man was just so regal to her, so magnificent. The sight of him thrilled her in ways her husband never could and she wasn't the only woman on this street that felt that way. She could only gaze after the man as he walked toward his home.

At twenty one years of age even though Arthur's married, if in name only, it had not stopped the women of Voltanis from trying to bed him. His comrades envied how many women that were practically throwing themselves at him. Of course it was not strange to see why. He cut a dashing figure, his golden hair fell around to his neck, though he always kept it in a war bun now a days. His eyes were a crystal violet color, he was tall, well built, and the shape of his body when he had taken his shirt off on a hot days, had entered many ladies' fantasies.

Arthur had to marvel at how much different he looked now compared to when he was a female. If anything he was almost exactly as big as Lancelot, a far cry from the waif of the girl he had been. Life had been hard for the pair of siblings but now with his mercenary work, they were living comfortably. An honest living was not something he could afford to do with assassins dogging their every steps.

As he arrived at the steps to his home, he saw two of his six house guards snap a salute. The reason why his sister even had bodyguards was because he had requested it and offered part of his salary to hire their services. His Captain however, hired six Unsullied, eunuch warriors, to protect his sister around the clock at no additional charge, stating that with Arthur on their side, they made more money than most know what to do with nowadays.

Upon nodding his greeting to the warriors, he opened the door and was greeted by the sight of his sister sitting across the table from a fat greasy looking man with a bushy beard. Immediately his hand fell onto his sword, something the fat man noticed.

"Peace!" The fat man instantly raised his hand up in surrender.

His sister on the other hand got up and threw herself into his arms. Once again he winced at the fact that he needed to try and break up this farce of a marriage and get a good man for his sister. However his primary concern now was the fat man.

"Who are you?" Arthur glared at the fat man who appeared to quail under his gaze.

"Dragon's son indeed," the fat man muttered to himself before standing up. "I know who you are and I have been searching for you for quite some time."

Immediately, Arthur pushed his sister aside and drew his sword. It appeared they would have to move quickly once more under the cover of night. Of course that was after he silenced this man.

"Wait! I mean you no harm, son of Aerys!" The fat man blanched as he got on his knees. "I am Illyrio Mopatis and I am here to repay my debt to House Targaryen!"

"Brother!" Daenerys' voice cut in as she placed her hand on her brother's sword arm. When they were younger her brother had been slim, almost feminine like. Now at twenty one, her brother was tall, broad-shouldered, muscular. He was every inch the man she always pictured he would be. "He speaks true, he want to help us restore our house and the throne."

Arthur looked at his foolish sister who still dreamed of one day returning to King's Landing thanks to the story a certain knight told her. 'Damn you Darry!'

"If I can explain myself Your Grace, I have been indebted to your father and would see House Targaryen restored and Westeros under their just rule once more," the fat man, Illyrio, pleaded before he look at the box that had been on the table. "This is a token of my esteem Your Grace."

Arthur slowly approached the box and flipped it over to see three petrified dragon egg inside. Daenerys looked absolutely enthralled by them and the man appeared to try and smile in a disarming way. That just raised Arthur's sense of danger some more.

"Those are- dragon eggs," Daenerys spoke softly as she went over to the eggs and touched them.

"I am but a humble servant of House Targaryen, please let me serve them again," Illyrio bowed low in his fine robes.

"And you simply wish to help us reclaim Westeros out of the goodness of your heart?" Arthur asked skeptically. His face already showed that he had made his decision on what to do with the man.

"Of course my liege, I only ask to serve," Illyrio head remained bowed in subservience.

"Leave," Arthur began after a few moments of silence seeing the man shocked look. "And take your dragon eggs with you."

"Brother!" Daenerys exclaimed in shock.

"Our family had our chance," Arthur told Daenerys as he continued to look at the fat man before him. "We failed."

Illyrio blinked and suddenly really looked at the man before him. Suddenly he stood up, all pretenses of fear gone. "You truly are a dragon, Your Grace. I can see I erred in approaching you this way."

Arthur got into a defensive stance ready to cut down the fat man.

"It is true, that I would have liked to be riding on your coattails and make a fortune when you reclaimed the throne," Illyrio began in a conversational tone of voice; the switch startled Daenerys. "But, it is true that even if I do not get to benefit, I would like to help you restore House Targaryen if it is in my power. As I have said. I owe your house a debt."

Arthur however remained silent as he stared at the true face of the man and took his measure. The man appeared to know it too.

"Keep the Dragon Eggs, they belong to you to begin with," Illyrio bowed low. "Just know this Your Grace, a storm is brewing on the horizon. The King's Hand is dead and I will wager the King is not far behind. When that happens, the land will be torn asunder by war. Men will vie for the smallest ounce of power."

"And I need to know this, why?" Arthur questioned the man for the ulterior motive.

"Because, even after all this time, the people will still flock to your banner. House Martell has been searching for you covertly for years. As have Baratheon assassins. I divert them as much as I could from your trail. It was only due to their botched attempt on you three years ago that I was able to pick up your trail again."

Arthur set his jaw and ordered the fat man to continue with his eyes.

"If I could pick it up, it would not be long before House Martell does also."

"Not House Baratheon?" Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow, his sword now stabbed in front of him, his two hand resting on its pommel.

"I have a feeling House Baratheon will have other issues to contend with before the year is out," The fat man replied. Giving a third and final bow, he retreated to the door. "The players will come for you your majesty make no mistake."

"Players? What players?" Daenerys asked as the fat man left their home.

"The players in the game of thrones," Arthur replied as he exhaled. He looked at the dragon eggs and frowned. Too bad it wasn't fresh. Fresh dragon eggs made for a tasty treat.

"Brother!" Daenerys cried in alarm as she recognized her brother's hungry look anywhere. She hugged the dragon eggs to her bosom protectively.

"Bah, it's all dried out and tough anyway," Arthur assessed a moment later. Even petrified, it was still a good egg to eat... ah well, the things he did for his sister.

Arthur, frowned as his sister try to find a nice spot for the eggs by her bed. He felt a tug toward the eggs and judging from Daenerys expression, she did too. Maybe the eggs weren't as dead as everyone presumed it they were.

His mind returned to the fat man that was here earlier. There was no way, under any condition, that Arthur would ever bring his sister back to that forsaken land. She would be married, then he would be married, they will forget about the throne and live here happy and content away from the cesspool of the court. What little he saw of Westerosi politics when he lived among them for the first five years of his life, was sickening. His family also was sickening. At first he had been disgusted by the incest, but it did give him his sister. He would not want for her to not exist despite her circumstances.

That however did not extend to his brother, Rhaegar, the sane one. He could have turned things around, their father had only a few years left in his life at most. He could have redeemed their house but he doomed the kingdoms to war when he stole that girl. And all for what? Love?

Two Kingdoms he'd lost now, both as Arturia and Arthur, both destroyed by love. His brother deserved his fate. His sister-in-law, however, did not.

Word of what Gregor Clegane had done reached over here even in the Free Cities. From the rumors, the bastard raped her in front of her children, then killed her afterward before bashing his niece's and nephew's heads in.

Arthur's fist tightened when he learned the bastard had been given the highest honor of being a knight of House Lannister. These men of Westeros were no knights. If there was ever a reason that Arthur would ever want to return to Westeros, it would be to cut down the Mountain Who Rides. He owed his kind sister-in-law that much.

TBC:

AN: Thanks to deer-shifter for taking care of this chapter! Heh! It actually readable now!