39 departure

The docks were alive with movement as my ships set sail, their hulls packed with the most valuable treasure I had ever acquired—knowledge. Every book, every scroll, every scrap of wisdom from the ruins and hidden corners of Westeros and Essos now belonged to me. Each of the ten ships carried a full copy, ensuring that even if one was lost to storms or pirates, the knowledge would never be erased. And as for the pirates… I would flay any man who dared touch what was mine.

A shadow moved at my side. Drogo, ever watchful, gave a slight nod.

"My lord, the king calls for you," he said, his voice a low growl.

I exhaled, taking one last look at the horizon. "Alright, let's go. Time to leave this shit hole."

I turned on my heel, walking toward the Red Keep with Drogo on one side and the Hound on the other. Anyone who saw us quickly stepped aside—smart men knew better than to stand in my way.

The Throne Room

The doors of the throne room swung open, revealing King Robert sitting lazily upon the Iron Throne, a half-empty goblet in one hand. By his side stood a little girl, golden-haired and delicate—Myrcella Baratheon. Even at just seven years old, she carried herself with dignity. She would grow into a fine woman one day, and under my guidance, she would survive the deadly game of thrones. If I left her here, she would not live to see adulthood—poisoned, betrayed, or used as a pawn before being discarded like so many others.

I should really find a way to build immunity to poisons. I had barely scratched the surface of the magical texts in my possession, and already, I knew that the alchemical arts held more than simple death and destruction. If I had time… but time was always scarce.

Robert lifted his head, his eyes narrowing as he smirked.

"Caesar, so you're leaving today?"

"Aye, my king," I said, bowing my head slightly.

"Bah! No need for that. We're closer than that now." He downed another gulp of wine before waving the cup vaguely in my direction. "So… when will you marry her? And it must be done here."

The room was silent. I felt the weight of every noble's gaze upon me. Even Jaime Lannister, standing to the side, stiffened slightly at the words.

"I shall wait until she turns fifteen," I said simply.

Robert grunted. "Hmph. You're more patient than most. Not that it matters, so long as she's treated well."

"She will be," I said, glancing at Myrcella. She was listening intently, though she remained silent.

What I didn't say was that I would not touch her until she was at least eighteen. Not just because of my own ethics—what little I had left—but because a woman needed to be fully grown to handle me. This world was backwards, yes, but so was my own. A few hundred years ago, marriage at such a young age had been common. Incest too. Funny how progress changed things. But if I could extend my life—or better yet, make myself immortal—I would keep this world just as it was. A world where I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.

Robert clapped a hand on his knee. "Good. Now go—but visit at least once a year."

"Of course, my king."

I wasn't just going to visit. I was heading north with them. Winterfell was a land of opportunity. Slapping Joffrey again, meeting the Starks face-to-face, maybe even stealing Jon Snow and taking him beyond the Wall for the Horn of Winter. A year from now, I'd be covered in blood, gold-plating the skulls of my enemies as trophies. The thought made me grin.

Myrcella flinched at the sight, her small hands tightening at her sides. If Cersei had been here, she would have screamed at Robert to keep me away from her daughter. She would have tried to kill me herself rather than let Myrcella leave.

Interesting that she wasn't here now.

"Where is the queen?" I asked, turning back to Robert.

"She couldn't be here," he grumbled. "Too hard for her—you know how women are."

I kept my expression neutral. No, Robert, it's not 'women.' It's Cersei. And if she's not here, it's because she's plotting.

A figure appeared at my side—my father. Tywin Lannister, standing tall, dressed in crimson and gold. His face was unreadable, but I knew him well enough to see the displeasure beneath the surface. He had no love for King's Landing, nor for staying away from mereen and his grandchildren.

"Let's go, son," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

I nodded. "Alright."

I reached out, taking Myrcella's hand in mine. Her fingers were small and soft, nothing like the battle-worn hands I was used to holding.

In the silence of the court, I led her away. Robert watched, nodding approvingly. Jaime stood motionless, sadness flickering in his eyes. He knew what this meant—Cersei's amd his daughter was now mine.

Myrcella's POV

I clutched Caesar's hand tightly as we walked away, my heart heavy. Leaving my father, my mother, and Tommen behind felt… wrong. I had always known I would be married off one day, but so soon? And to Caesar?

I stole a glance at him. He was massive—taller than any knight I had ever seen. He had defeated the best warriors in the kingdom, even my uncle Jaime and my father. The ladies at court whispered about him, some in awe, others in fear. My own friends told stories of his ruthlessness, of his menacing presence on the battlefield.

But as I looked up at him now, he smiled—not the terrifying, skull-collecting grin from earlier, but something softer.

"Myrcella," he said.

"Yes?"

"Ready to see my cities and try new food?"

I hesitated. "Yes… of course."

"Good." He chuckled. "How about some sweets from the kitchen on my ship? I have some of the best in the Seven Kingdoms and Essos. They're my own recipe. Want to try them?"

I blinked. "Really?"

"Yes." His golden eyes gleamed. "I'll have them brought up. You'll love them."

A smile tugged at my lips. "I'd love to."

Caesar's POV

As I walked below deck toward the kitchen, I let out a slow breath. Children were so easy to manipulate. Myrcella was already warming up to me. It would kill Cersei to see her daughter so happy in my care.

And that was the real game, wasn't it? To not only take Myrcella away but to make her love me—to make her see her mother for the monster she was.

If I played this right, I could break Cersei Lannister in ways no sword ever could.

I chuckled to myself. I wonder if I can make Cersei hang herself from sadness hahaha that would be funny to see.

If not, I'd make sure she suffered every single day, knowing her only daughter had been taken, body and soul, by a man she hated more than anything.

And that? That would be sweeter than any dessert.