Chapter 14: Revelations

The morning after healing the young Lady Shireen, Nox woke just before the sun rose above the horizon as he was accustomed to doing. Getting up from the bed, Nox went through his morning routine of stretching and meditating as he tried to work out the kinks that the mattress he'd slept on had put in his back. 'Honestly, how much of a penny pincher is Stannis? I think my bed on the fucking Sea Wolf is more comfortable. Force only knows what kind of condition Talisa's and Jon's rooms are in if this is what he gave me to use," he thought as he pulled himself out of his meditation just in time for a servant to knock on his door.

"Um, excess me, milord Sorcerer," a tentative female voice came from outside his room. "I, um, the head cook wasn't sure what you would like to have to break your fast, milord. So, umm-"

"Come in and leave whatever you have brought on the desk," Nox called out with his back towards the door as he took a breath to ready himself to enter another trance. "Then leave."

He could hear the door open slightly, followed by the quick shuffling of feet towards his desk. The sound of a heavy tray hitting the wood later and the servant was all but running out of his room, stuttering apologies and thanks one after another. 'Honestly,' Nox thought with a tired sigh. 'One would think I'm either a god or a devil given how some of these people see me.'

Taking another steadying breath, Nox let himself fall into the darkness of his mind as he dived headfirst into the Force. At first, he could only sense the keep of Dragonstone and the surrounding lands, and there honestly wasn't much there of note. Expanding his senses, he reached across the bay towards King's Landing. But as was always the case, the largest city of Westeros was a muddled mess. Though given what he was used too, calling a settlement of half a million souls could hardly even count as a city. But without ever having been there and with no real shining Force sensitives in the city, it was difficult to truly differentiate one presence from the next.

Leaving King's Landing behind, he let his senses wander throughout the 'southern' kingdoms in search of any potential Force sensitive individuals. But, just like every other time he'd searched, his efforts were in vain. Sure, there were a few Force sensitives in the rest of Westeros, some that might even warrant his attention. But in terms of sheer power level, none of them could even come close to comparing to the Stark children. Hells, he doubted any of them would even last a full day in Korriban before they ended up being food for kor'slugs.

Abandoning the south, he moved his attention North. But as he did, he could feel his physical body frown. He could still easily locate Robb, Arya, Bran, Ned and to a lesser extent Sansa and Rickon. He could even sense Nyra despite her lacking a significant Force sensitivity, though that was seemingly changing for some reason. But, no, what truly had him frowning was the fact that it was almost like a fog had settled in over the North. A fog that while not completely obscuring his vision, it was making it harder to see anything. And the further North he went, the thicker the fog became. Was it possible that this…fog…had always been there? And the fact that he was in the North was the reason it was so easy to penetrate in the past? No. That couldn't be it. If it was, then the Force vision he'd received on his first night in Winterfell wouldn't had been as clear as it was…and that was saying something seeing as how he was still trying to decipher just what he'd seen even years later.

Just as he was about to pull back into himself, he felt it. A secondary presence. One he'd never encountered before. One that was unique. But just as he was about to try and confront the presence, it was gone. Disappearing into the fog that covered the North. A fog which intensified as the presence passed through. 'Ah, interesting… Now I know that this fog on my vision is not a natural occurrence, but rather done at the will of someone or something. And now that I know that for certain, I can combat it.'

Pulling back into his physical form, Nox rolled his neck and got to his feet just in time as he felt his Apprentice just about to knock on his door. "Come in Jon," he called out, using the Force to open the door while walking over to the desk and picking up the piece of freshly cooked bread and a thick chunk of cheese.

Stepping in, his Apprentice lowered his head. "Master."

Taking a bite, he motioned towards his Apprentice. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Yes Master," Jon nodded.

"Good. And where is Talisa this morning?"

"She's checking on Lady Shireen right now, Master."

"Excellent," Nox nodded, finishing off the bread and cheese and downing the cup of water in a single go. "I trust that you managed to sense it from Shireen last night while we were healing her?"

There wasn't any need for Nox to elaborate further as Jon nodded. "Yes, Master. Lady Shireen, she's strong in the Force. And she was the one that sent that…disturbance that we felt out at sea."

"Aye she was and aye she is." Grabbing his overcoat that was on the back of the chair in the room, he swung it over his shoulders and motioned for Jon to follow him. "We will be testing Shireen to gauge her potential after Talisa is done examining her. However, even if she shows true promise, she will not be beginning her training just yet due to her father's wishes to have her remain here on Dragonstone until she recovers. And we have idled far too long and must return North. I want you to watch the test carefully, Jon. For you'll more than likely be performing this in the future as we discover more Force sensitive individuals in the realm."

"Aye, my Master," his Apprentice nodded, falling into step behind him as the two made their way out of his room and towards the upper levels of the keep where the Lord's family were housed.

Arriving on the topmost level, Nox didn't even hesitate as he bypassed the few guards that were standing in the hall and entered Shireen's room. The change in the young girl from the previous night was as clear as night from day. Not only did she physically look healthy, but her presence in the Force was far stronger than the night prior. And just as Jon had said, Talisa had beat the two of them in and was currently running a finger along the young girl's jawline. But she wasn't alone. There were three others in the room along with her. The Maester and Stannis he recognized, but the middle-aged woman he did not. Though given her manner of dress and the fact that she was standing beside Stannis, he could only assume that she was the man's wife. 'Force…Ice queen doesn't even begin to describe that woman.'

"—important that you rest," Talisa explained to the young lady. "You went through quite the ordeal and your body needs to recover even if it may not look or even feel like it right now. And it is very important that you take one spoonful of this medicine twice a day. Once when you wake up and once just before you go to sleep."

He could sense the young girl was paying as close as attention as she could to her elder, but the moment the two of them walked fully into the room her attention was broken as she all put lunged off the bed and sprinted towards the two of them. Nox barely had a moment to brace himself before his legs were enveloped by the arms of the small girl and her head was buried into his chest. "You came! I – I called for you and – and I didn't know if you would come, but—but you came!"

Her ramblings would've made Nox blink had he still the ability to do so. 'Interesting. She purposefully called out to me. Or perhaps not. Maybe she could've merely wanted me to be here to try and heal her.'

"Shireen, enough. Mind your manners young lady."

Feeling a spike of fear and remorse, the young girl slowly removed her arms from around his legs. "Yes, mother."

Shooting the girl's mother a harsh glance to silence her, Nox squatted down so that the two could be face to face. "Tell me, young one. How did you know to call out to me?"

He could feel her anxiety build, which led her to hesitate. Not wanting to waste anymore time than they already had, Nox laid a hand on her shoulder and used the Force to calm and relax the girl. The moment he did, he was surprised once more as he felt her stiffen and fight back for a moment. But she was still young, and he had decades of harsh experience on her, so it was little more than a trifle matter to sooth her defenses and calm the girl down. "You don't have anything to fear from me or anyone else, young Shireen. You don't have to hide who you are anymore."

Shakily nodding, Shireen launched into her tale as best she could for her age. "Father told me stories about you. About how you defeated the…Greyjoys so easily when I was born. I…I dreamed I could be like you! And Patches told me such wonderful stories of magic! It was so…wonderful! So…So, one day, I couldn't reach my dolly and…and I really, really wanted it. And then…And then I had it in my hands. Then father told me how you could, um…see people without seeing. So, I…I wondered if I could see you without seeing you. Then…Then I got sick and…and I wanted your help. I – I cried out for you for days. And then – And then you were here! Does…Does that mean I have magic too? Please? Please, do I have magic like you? I want to be special too!"

"You are special, young one," Nox smiled, rubbing the top of her hair. "As for whether or not your special like myself or Jon here, well, let's test that."

Guiding her back to her bed, Nox purposefully sat her so that her back was facing towards her parents, Jon, and Talisa. Ideally, none of them save Jon would be in the room while this was happening. But as Stannis could potentially be a future ally, despite his distasteful near Jedi-like temperament, Nox did not want to alienate him. At least, not yet. Once she was seated, Nox pulled a stool over and sat down in front of her. "Now, Shireen. I want you to see without seeing. To hear without hearing. To know without knowing. Focus on me and only on me. Take in everything you can see, hear, smell, and feel. Know everything there is to know about me no matter how seemingly insignificant. Can you do that?"

The young girl frowned in concentration. "Yes."

"Good." Focusing on a single thought, he sent out a powerful projection in his mind. "Now, I'm thinking of something and holding it out for you to 'see'. What is it?"

Biting down on her lower lip, Shireen stared hard at him. It was faint, but he could feel a slight touching on his mind. "A…A ship!"

"Very good," he nodded, putting the ship away before pulling another thought to the forefront of his mind while weakening the projection slightly. "Now, what am I thinking about?"

"Um, it's round and…a shield! A shield with a stag!"

Nodding his approval, Nox dismissed the shield, brought forth another thought, and further weakened the projection. For the next ten minutes, this process continued with Shireen frowning harder and harder as they went while he weakened the projection with each correct answer she gave. "Very good," Nox said after she had correctly guessed the tenth straight object he'd thought of.

Holding out his hand, Nox summoned a small wooden ball the size of his hand from across the room and kept it suspended in the air between the two of them. "Now, put aside your notions of what is and what is not possible." He lectured, floating the ball towards her. "It is but a ball, and you have the Force to command. Use it. Do not try. Do. Push the ball back towards me."

Nodding, Shireen held out her hand, palm out towards the ball floating between the two of them. He could feel the ball twitch in his grasp, and then it was only because of his reflexes through the Force that he was able to duck in time to dodge the ball as it shot towards him as if it'd been shot out of a gauss cannon, stopping only when it struck the stone wall and shattered into a hundred pieces. "Well," he chuckled, shaking his head at the awestruck look on Shireen's face, as well as the bewildered thoughts and emotions coming from her parents. "I believe that settles it. You are quite strong in the Force, young one."

Shireen, who'd been a world away as she stared at the ruined ball on the floor, snapped her attention back to him. "You…You can teach me to be like you?"

"That I can, youngling," Nox nodded, leaning back and enjoying the girl's eagerness, as well as the not-so-subtle discomfort that was emanating from both of her parents. "But not yet. I cannot unfortunately afford to stay here in order to train you as I am needed back North. And my Apprentice is nowhere near ready to start taking on students of his own yet. I can give you a few little exercises to prepare yourself with, but your formal training will have to wait until your father believes you are ready to head North."

The girl's excitement died almost immediately as she seemed to shrink in on herself. Apparently, she was of the mindset that she would not be coming North anytime soon. Not that he was about to let that happen. Even if he had to 'persuade' the Lord of Dragonstone with the slightest nudges from the Force, Shireen would be coming North within a year or two at the most. It would a crime against his very nature as a Sith to let such a potentially powerful acolyte rot away into nothingness.

"The Sorcerer and I have already discussed your training, daughter," Stannis intoned, stepping across the room so that he was standing beside her. "It is not…proper for one as young as you to foster. But in a year or two you will be of proper age. And should I find your behavior acceptable then…I will agree to your fostering in Winterfell should Lord Stark allow it."

Shireen beamed up at her father, her aura radiating happiness as she eagerly bobbed her head. "Yes, father! I promise I'll be good!"

"Excellent," Nox commented, drawing her attention back to himself. "Now then, let us give you a few exercises to hold you over until you head North to begin your formal training."

The rest of the morning and the better part of the midday hours were spent with Nox giving a very abridged lesson to Shireen. He had her write down both of the Force codes and gave a very quick overview of both, along with meditation techniques and what it meant to use the light and dark sides of the Force. Given her House words, despite her father's temperament, he had a feeling that once she was able to tap into her 'fury', that she would indeed be a force to be reckoned with. The lesson was nowhere near what he would have wanted but, amazingly enough, the girl seemed to be a quick study, just like Arya and Jon had been when they had both first started their training under him.

After feeling he'd done all that he could with the limited time that he had available to him, Nox bid his future acolyte and her parents farewell and made his way back down to the docks with Jon as Talisa had already left during his lessons since she wanted time to speak with the Maester about the finer points of Shireen's recovery process. And just before he and Jon were to head back to the Sea Wolf, he was stopped by Gerion Lannister and Davos Seaworth.

"Gentlemen," he greeted the two of them. "What can I do for you both?"

The two men shared a brief look. "I wanted to thank you sorcerer," Davos began, "I have children of my own, a whole brew of them. But that girl, I love her like she is my own daughter. So, I wanted to take the chance to thank ya before you went on your way."

"It was no trouble, Davos," Nox replied. "But your thanks is appreciated."

"And, as for myself, Nox, well, this is where we part ways," The Lannister said, holding out his hand. "Stannis is sending Ser Davos here back to King's Landing with a message for King Robert, and I'll be going with him. Figure it'd be a lot shorter of a trip back to the Westerlands from King's Landing than it would be from White Harbor. And I just wanted to say thank you, Nox. You saved me in more ways than one and – and you've given me quite a few things to think about as well. Even if my brother is too much of an ass to formally recognize it, House Lannister and myself owe you a debt, Sorcerer. And a Lannister always pays his debts."

Taking the offered hand, Nox gave the man a sly grin. "A word to the wise, Lannister: never say you are indebted to a Sith. We have a habit of abusing every advantage given to us."

"I'll keep that in mind, Sorcerer," Gerion laughed good naturedly as he let go of his hand.

"I was of the mind that you would be leaving us here Gerion and was going to ask a favor. But as you've brought up the matter of debts, well, I believe I have a task for you that will allow you to start paying off what is owed."

Gerion didn't even hesitate. "Name it. As long as it doesn't hurt myself or my House, I will see that it is done."

"Wonderful," Nox smiled, patting the man on the shoulder. "I have something for you to deliver to the King. I have no doubt that once word spreads of our success in Valyria, a few opportunistic fools will attempt to claim that which is not theirs by saying that I have not paid proper tribute. I want to head this off before they can become an annoyance."

"Smart," Gerion nodded. "Show me what it is you want delivered, and I will deliver it into the hands of the King personally."

Idly tapping his foot beneath the heavy ornate table within the Small Council Chambers, King Robert Baratheon; First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Demon of the Trident, and more titles that he honestly didn't give a shit about could do little more than groan tiredly as he wondered for the tenth, or perhaps twentieth, time that morning how his Hand and all but adoptive father Jon Arryn managed to hoodwink him into actually attending a meeting of the Small Council. Honestly, this entire meeting was nothing more than counting coppers! The only interesting piece of news was weeks old, and that was that while Stannis was on Dragonstone to inspect the state of the Royal Fleet, his daughter had contracted greyscale. But since then, nothing. There'd been no word of the Sorcerer for months. Varys's 'little birds' could not find any clue as to the lost Targaryens' location in Essos. And there were no wars going on in the Seven Kingdoms despite the few minor land disputes. 'I'd much rather be back in my chambers, buried balls deep in one of Baelish's new whores while downing a pitcher of wine. But, no, I must be here listening to my little shite of a brother drone on and on about some minor dispute in the Stormlands while Baelish keeps going over his books and pulling gold coins from his ass. Hehe, with the rate Baelish is going, he's going to steal Tywin's reputation for shitting gold! Ha!'

"—ended up breaking three bones in the man's body and left him a bleeding pulp on the ground. Now, House Wagstaff has demanded retribution in the form of gold for the insult dealt to Ser Humfrey by his intended, Brie-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Renly," Robert growled, slamming his fist on the table and ending his brothers drabble. "If that poor excuse for a fucking knight can't even beat a woman in single combat then he doesn't fucking deserve to pay to fuck a woman, let alone get paid to fuck a woman."

Shifting in his seat, Renly pulled at the collar of his shirt to fan himself. "Yes, well, House Wagstaff might be only a minor house. But Ser Humfrey is the castellan of Grandview under House Grandison. And Lord Grandison fought and died for you during the Battle of the Trident. We do not wish to alienate those who have served us so well in the past by simply—"

"The issue is with House Wagstaff, not Grandison," Robert growled, his annoyance only growing. "There will be no payment to House Wagstaff for injuries sustained just because Humfrey couldn't best a woman. The fucker deserved it for all we know. If they can't accept that, then you will go down to Grandview and explain that in person. Am I understood, Renly?"

The problem with Renly, one of the many that is, was that the fool was constantly trying to please everyone. Someone is insulted by someone else, side with those who have aided you in the past and then make amends with the ones you sided against. If a fool tripped over his own feet walking up the stairs, he'd stop a whole procession to make sure the fool didn't break a nail. If a whore stains her dress, he'd buy her a new one. It was getting to the point of being idiotic.

"Yes, brother," Renly mumbled, his eyes downcast. "I'll write the raven today. And if I don't hear from them soon, my squire and I will head out to Grandview to oversee the issue personally."

For a moment, Robert was fighting the urge to simply bash his brother's head against the table. But he was saved from further rambling as Ser Aerys Oakheart opened the door to the small chambers and made his way inside. The man was young but fine with a blade, though he was still just a green boy who had yet to see any real battle outside of a tourney or hunting down the odd bandit roaming around the Crownlands. "Your grace, please forgive the intrusion. But Ser Davos Seaworth and – and Lord Gerion Lannister are requesting to meet with yourself and the Small Council."

That got Robert's attention. He'd come to know Davos quite well over the years. But the fact that his brother's personal ass kisser was in King's Landing without his ever-dour brother present was odd. And if that wasn't odd enough, then there was also Gerion Lannister, a man that the entire realm had written off as dead after he disappeared off on some halfcocked idea about raiding Valyria years ago.

"Let them in," Robert ordered, sitting up straighter at the prospect of having something interesting happen during one of these damned meetings. "Then, go find the fucking Kingslayer and Cersei, and tell them to get their asses to the Small Council Chambers immediately."

"Yes, your grace," Oakheart bowed before backpaddling out of the chamber quickly and allowing two men to enter in his place.

The two men couldn't have been more different if one tried. Davos could only be described as old and ordinary with graying brown hair and brown eyes while wearing a simple wool mantle. The other man however was a Lannister if Robert had ever seen one. Golden hair, even if it was thin and slightly unkept, and green eyes on a face that was far too pretty to be on a man. 'Fucking Lannister goldened-haired green-eyed shits. Not even my own fucking children are free from their look.'

"Yer grace," Davos greeted them with a deep bow. "Milords."

"Your grace, my Lords," the Lannister followed, bowing as well but not quite as deep as Davos.

Leaning back in his seat, Robert fixed the supposed Lannister with a gaze that had once made lesser men shit themselves. "So, you're Gerion Lannister. Heard you died in Valyria. Either word is wrong, or you're looking mighty healthy for a dead man."

"Well, I believe we'll have to go with the word being wrong, your grace, because I am fairly certain I'm not dead. Though, not for a lack of trying on my part," Gerion answered, his head held high but with a strange tone to his voice.

Before Robert could ask him anything further, the doors to the Small Council chambers were thrown open, revealing his 'loving' queen and her brother, the Kingslayer. Both of whom stopped dead in their tracks as they saw the man claiming to their long-lost uncle standing before them. The Kingslayer seemed to the first to overcome his surprise as he took a step forward, noticeably placing himself between the supposed Lannister and Cersei. "Uncle Gerion?"

"What? You expect a fucking ghost or something, kid?" the Lannister chuckled, though neither his queen nor her brother seemed to find his jest in good taste. "Fine, proof then. When you two were ten, you took up the habit of jumping from one of the mining tunnels into the sunset sea despite your father's explicit orders not to do so. And when he found out he tanned your hide red Jamie and locked Cersei in her room for nearly a full moon. Of course, that didn't stop either of you as the next night I caught the two of you sneaking back to your rooms just before sunrise after doing the exact same thing."

Any doubts as to his identity were put to rest as Jamie's usual cocky grin returned and he held out a hand. "Good to see you again, Uncle. I can't say how glad I am to know that the rumors of your death were just that."

"Aye, I as well," Gerion nodded, taking the offered hand. "Beloved niece, you are even more radiant now than when I saw you last. Queendom and motherhood have indeed been kind to you."

Jutting out her chin, Cersei held her head high as she regarded her uncle like he was a piece of cheap meat rather than a long lost relative. "Indeed, they have, Uncle. I am still more than your niece, I am your queen and-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, come off it, Cersei, and sit your ass down if you want to stay," Robert growled, cutting his wife off. Gods, what did he ever do to be cursed with such a coldhearted bitch? It was nothing short of a miracle that his cock didn't freeze off in her the few times they coupled to produce their children.

Cersei of course was none too pleased with him interrupting her posturing, but he was past the point of giving a shit about her wants by this point and she knew it. With nary a word, she took the empty seat usually reserved for his brother while the Kingslayer took up position behind her.

"So," Robert began once more, picking up his nearby wine glass. "You were just about to tell us how you managed to survive Valyria. Get to it."

"Not much to tell, honestly," Gerion sighed. "My crew set off to find a way into the Valyrian Freehold and after more time than I care to admit, we finally found a viable option in the form of a river that we believed would lead us directly to the heart of Valyria. The only problem was…we were obviously not the first to try this as there were dozens, if not hundreds, of half sunken or completely sunken ships in the river. One of which caught our underbelly and beached us. After that, things became a bit of a blur as it's next to impossible to tell the passing of time in that land, but I was forced to watch and listen as the men I brought with me were either torn to pieces and feasted upon by the hell spawn creatures that call that shithole home. Or I was forced to watch as battle-hardened men went to sleep fine only to wake up the next morning with the mind of a child. Eventually, I was the only one left alive, gods only know why. But, in the end, I was saved by none other than the Sorcerer Nox and his expedition he'd organized from the North."

Now he really had Robert's attention, as well as the attention of everyone else in the room. "So, you got shipwrecked, stranded, lost all your men, and then the sorcerer came around and saved your ass. Is that what you're telling us?"

"In short, yes," Gerion sighed.

"Then the sorcerer was also not successful in finding Valyria then?" Cersei cut in, her tone just as scathing as he'd come to expect from her.

"He was successful, alright. The Sorcerer, with the help of his Apprentice and those he brought with him, succeeded where everyone else has failed for hundreds of years. They not only reached the heart of Valyria, but they were able to plunder one of the vaults and make off with several skiff loads of a mixture of Valyrian steel, gold, books, artifacts, jewels and jewelry." Gerion explained, shocking everyone in the room. "Though the cost was heavy. Over half of those that came with him died. And the only reason that number wasn't higher was because the Sorcerer and his Apprentice pushed themselves to the point of collapse in order to ensure that those who survived made it back alive."

Resting his elbows on the table, Robert didn't hide the grin that came upon him. The fact that the Sorcerer went in and fucked the ghosts of Valyria up the ass and ran off with their valuables was just too good. The only thing that would've made it better would've been if Robert had been there with him to see him fuck over those dragon cunts. "You keep mentioning this 'Apprentice'," Jon stated, breaking Robert out of his thoughts of what could have been. "What Apprentice? And why does the title apparently hold significance to the Sorcerer enough to bestow it upon an individual?"

"His Apprentice is Lord Stark's bastard son, Jon Snow," Gerion answered, drawing another bark of laughter from Robert. "From what I understand of his terminology, an Apprentice would be akin to a Squire training to become a full-fledged knight of the Realm. Though, from what I've seen of the boy, he's already above and beyond almost any knight in the Realm."

"Hmph, a likely tale," his queen snorted, shaking her head. "The man must have no standards to raise a mere bastard to such an honorable position."

Growling, he fixed his wife with a look promising retribution. "Have a care how you speak, woman. That bastard is the son of the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms. And he'd already proven himself a man well before Nox raised him up to be his Apprentice."

Cersei's eyes hardened as she glared pure hatred at him, but he honestly didn't care by this point. He'd seen that look from her often enough now to simply ignore it.

"Believe me, your grace," the returned Lannister interjected softly. "Nox did not lower his standards at all when he appointed the bastard as his Apprentice. While I didn't see the act for myself, I verified the story with the daughter of Lady Mormont, the son and heir of Lord Jon Umber, the son of Lord Rodrik Karstark, and Prince Oberyn Martell that the boy killed a dragon easily the size of Balerion the Black Dread. On foot. If that isn't a deed worthy of an uplifting of station, then I'm afraid, dear niece, that you have impossible standards."

Whatever response his wife had was lost as the wine that Robert had been drinking flew from his mouth and covered her. "What the fuck?" he cursed, wiping at his mouth even as the Kingslayer started trying to dry his sister off. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"The boy killed a dragon," Gerion repeated, his face and tone completely serious. "On foot."

"I-I-Impossible!" Pycelle stuttered, rising from his seat partially before collapsing and coughing. "Such – ack – Such an act is impossible! Even if there were dragons still around! Which there are not! The Citadel confirmed that all the dragons died out decades ago an-"

"And the Citadel is the end-all be-all of truth in the Realm and the greater world, correct?" Gerion scoffed. "Pycelle, just like everyone in this room, save for good old Davos here, I've been educated by the Maesters since I was but a boy. I even spent a few months in the Citadel studying in preparation for my voyage to Valyria. But do you know what my time in Valyria and with Nox has taught me, Pycelle? It's that you Maesters are either holding back on us, or you lot truly don't know your ass from a hole in the ground."

Pycelle's face turned an impressive shade of red, but any argument was cut off as Varys spoke up for the first time. "You said that you have the word of several heirs and a second son as well as the word of the Prince of Dorne, did you not? I must ask, how is it that Prince Oberyn came to be part of a Northern expedition to a long-lost land? The last song my little birds sung to me of the wayward Prince was that he was making his way through the Free Cities with his paramour and eldest bastard daughter."

As much as it stung to admit, the Spider had a point. What was even more galling was that Robert had completely overlooked the fact that Prince-fucking-Oberyn-fucking-Martell was with the Sorcerer. Sure, relations between the North and Dorne had improved to the point where the two kingdoms were cordial with one another. But, surely, they had not progressed to the point where they could so easily gain the services of the Red Viper.

"Not much to tell, honestly," Gerion shrugged. "Apparently, Prince Oberyn was in Volantis at the same time as the Sorcerer and was asking questions about him, trying to figure out his past if I had to guess. Nox found out and confronted the man. And the next day the Red Viper, his paramour, and his daughter were all officially welcomed into the expedition. And by the time they were left in Dorne, I would dare say that the Sorcerer and Prince Oberyn had become friends with one another."

Frowning, Robert scratched at his beard. In hindsight, he could agree that the killing of Elia was a mistake. Not the dragonspawn, though. Those bastards deserved to die just for having dragon's blood in their veins. But Elia…? Had the battle lust and elation of revenge not been coursing through him and clouding his mind, he might have acted differently. Hell, the punch from Ned had almost knocked a lick of sense back into him. But what sense the blow brought him was quickly destroyed when Ned turned his back on him and walked away. That was perhaps the best and worst day of his life. The only day that was even worse was when Ned returned with his bastard boy and his dead sister. And while he trusted Ned to keep an eye on the sorcerer, the fact that he was getting friendly with perhaps the most outspoken of those who still refused to acknowledge his right as King was slightly troubling.

"And just how deep is their friendship, Lord Lannister?" Jon Arryn asked, giving Robert a pointed look, which said that he knew exactly where Robert's mind currently was. After all, the fate of Elia Martel was a frequent point of contention between the two of them. "The tastes of the Prince of Dorne, as well as his frequent traveling partner, Lady Ellaria Sand, are well known. Do you believe they might have been successful in swaying him?"

Gerion didn't even hesitate. "Not even in the slightest. Though, not for a lack of trying. We did stay a few days in Sunspear while the Sea Wolf was being repaired after encountering a large group of pirates along the Stepstones. And I know that the Sorcerer and the Northerners were invited to a feast hosted by the Martells. But, given our recent history, I decided that I would not tempt fate and decided to stay on board during our stay. I didn't feel like testing the patience of the Martells by expecting them to accept a Lannister in their midst and not do something about it."

Robert could accept the logic, but just as he was about to comment further, his mind caught up with the more interesting aspect of what the Lannister had just said. "Pirates? How many?"

"Two galleons and four longboats," the lost Lannister replied. "Their plan was a decent one, but between the sheer power of the Sea Wolf, and the combined might of the Sorcerer, his Apprentice, and the Lady Asha Greyjoy, they didn't stand a chance. Hell, those three took out the two galleons on their own with only a slight bit of help from a few archers on the Sea Wolf."

Now he had Robert's full attention. "Sit the fuck down, Lannister, and tell me everything."

Taking one of the empty seats, the lost Lannister proceeded to tell Robert and the rest of the Small Council everything he'd seen during the brief skirmish against the pirates. Hearing about how the sorcerer had picked up a galleon and flipped it over had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Sure, he saw the sorcerer breach the walls of the Pyke with relative ease. But still, it seemed like every time he heard about the man, he had to keep adjusting just how powerful he thought he was. Then there were the actions of Ned's bastard boy and the Greyjoy lass. Hearing that the two had pretty much handled an entire galleon on their own seemed a bit of a stretch and he could tell that Gerion was leaving something out, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out just what it might be. Then there were the actions taken by Nox with the prisoners.

"Wait," Robert called out, raising his hand to stop the man's tale. "You mean to tell me that the sorcerer beheaded nearly fifty men with a single swipe of his sword? And not only that, but he managed to complete such a feat before the first man could even hit the fucking deck?"

Scratching the back of his neck, the lost Lannister visibly grimaced at seeming to recall what had happened. "Well, to be fair, he did throw his weapon, but yes. And then he had all the heads loaded up onto one of the surviving longboats and tasked the five pirates he'd pulled out from those to be executed to deliver the heads to wherever their hideaway was located."

Slapping his hand down on the table, Robert threw his head back and laughed. "Haha! The more I hear of this sorcerer, the more and more I start to like him despite his unfortunate look!"

Those around the table each wore different expressions, but the one that caught his eye the most was the almost calculating look in his queen's eyes. A look that he'd come to realize meant that she was trying to plot something idiotic. "And what of the plunder of Valyria, Uncle?" his queen asked. "What will be done with it? Surely, it will not all be heading to the North without appropriate tribute being given to the crown?"

A distinctive snort came from the edge of the room, drawing everyone's attention to the man it came from. "Pardon, yer grace," Davos murmured, his eyes low. "But I believe the sorcerer has more than paid his tribute with the healin of the young Lady Shireen from her fight against greyscale."

Robert focused in on his brother's righthand man. His brother had returned to Dragonstone some time ago to deal with some dispute or other, but his return had been delayed once his daughter had contracted greyscale. Robert had figured the girl was done for. But if anyone could cure an incurable disease, it would be him. "The sorcerer…cured her greyscale?"

"Aye, yer grace," Davos nodded. "He and a foreign woman, name of Lady Talisa Maegyr, they came up with a way to heal greyscale during the voyage. Lady Shireen is the, I believe fifth, person they've cured so far. And all five were fully cured within a moon's turn."

Chuckling, Robert turned his attention towards Pycelle, who was starting to turn a most interesting shade of red. As was usual, whenever they got word that the sorcerer had unveiled some sort of new 'invention' of his, or whatever the hell he called it. "So, Pycelle. In the decade that the sorcerer has been in service to Ned, he has managed to do the following; develop a type of glass to rival Myrish glass, create a larger more efficient bloomery, establish new trade routes throughout the North and into Essos, led an expedition into Valyria discovering gods only knows how much lost knowledge, and now he's gone and created a cure for a disease you Maesters have deemed 'incurable'. Tell me, what have you Maesters done in the past decade? And then tell me why the fuck the crown should continue providing coin to the fucking Citadel and not the Winterfell College?" Not bothering to give the old man a chance to stammer out a response, Robert turned back to Davos. "If Shireen is cured, then where the fuck is my brother? He should be back here. Not still on Dragonstone."

Davos shifted in place as he reached into his nearly worn out doublet and pulled out a small scroll. "Forgive me, yer grace, but Lord Stannis wished to remain with his daughter until she made a full recovery as suggested by the sorcerer. But he gave me this note to give to you, yer grace."

Motioning for Jon to take the scroll, his Hand unrolled the missive from this brother and read it over. "It is as Ser Davos says," Jon nodded, rolling up the scroll. "Despite there being no outward appearance of her previous affliction, the young Lady Shireen is still on medicine and bed rest under isolation until she has shown no return symptoms for a set period of time. And Stannis wishes to remain with her until that time has come to pass. And until then…he has appointed Ser Davos to act as Master of Ships in his stead until he returns."

Baelish's quill skittered across his parchment and his beloved queen looked like she'd just eaten a whole bushel of lemons. But the best look was the one on Davos who suddenly looked like he wanted to flee as fast as he could. "Haha! My brother didn't tell you that part, did he, Davos? Didn't think the cold bastard had it in him to play such a joke on anyone! Ha!" Robert laughed as he slapped his thigh. If all Small Council meetings were as interesting as this one was shaping up to be, then perhaps he would have to start attending them more often in the future. This was by far the most fun he'd had since the Greyjoy Rebellion. "Sit your ass down, Davos. If I must be here, then so do you."

"Aye, yer grace," Davos muttered, awkwardly taking his seat and looking thoroughly out of place.

With Davos seated, conversation returned with Baelish returning them to where they had been. "While a cure for greyscale is indeed a great boon, it is not coin. And if they were as successful as Lord Lannister says-"

"They were. And more."

"—then perhaps I will have to alter the expected Northern kingdom's tax contributions for this year to account for their unexpected increase in wealth."

Most of his good mood leaving him, Robert leaned forward and fixed the little weasel with a look that could melt stone. "Careful with your words, Baelish. Ned and the North have always paid their due."

"But the sorcerer is not of the North. At least not originally." Cersei cut in, making Robert wonder just why he hadn't kicked the woman out of the council chambers yet. "How can we know that he won't keep the gold for himself and try to fool Lord Stark?"

"Because he's not that type of man. At least from what I've seen. Hells, he's already planned out appropriate compensation and tribute, your grace." Gerion Lannister spoke up once more. "The highborn Lords and Ladies that dared to venture into Valyria with him were all given their pick from Valyrian Steel they took. And the smallfolk were all paid accordingly with gold or jewels."

"And what were you given, Uncle?" Cersei all but demanded, making Robert groan.

"Given the fact that he saved my life and I was unable to offer anything to the expedition, nothing," Gerion answered, before quickly following it up. "However, he did let me keep that which I had already found."

Standing, Gerion made a move towards the sword on his hip. A move which of course prompted the Kingsguard in the room to reach for their own hilts before Robert waved them off. Pulling the sword from its sheath, Robert could see the distinctive Valyrian steel markings on the blade in Gerion's hand. But it wasn't just the blade that had his attention but rather the pummel. Which was shaped into a golden lion's head.

"By the Seven," the Kingslayer gasped, his eyes wide like a coming of age boy seeing his first set of tits. "Is that…?!"

"Brightroar? Yes, it is, nephew." Gerion nodded, putting the sword away. "I managed to find King Tommen's lost ship. Unfortunately, there was nothing to recover save for this sword. And it's recovery almost makes the hell I went through worth it."

Robert might despise just about everything there is or ever was about the dragon lords, but even he would readily admit that the sister-fucking-cunts knew how to make good weapons. 'And perhaps getting the Lannister Ancestral Sword back will get Tywin off my fucking back for a few moons at least.'

"I trust that you will be leaving the sword here with Jamie, will you not, Uncle?" Cersei asked, her eyes staring at the now sheathed sword with undisguised longing. "And, in time perhaps, my son the Crowned Prince will be able to wie—"

"I will not," Gerion replied with no small amount of heat as he took his seat once more. "Jamie is no longer a Lannister. He gave that up when he joined the Kingsguard. And as for your son, he is a Baratheon, not a Lannister dear niece. He has no right to House Lannister's ancestral sword. I will be taking the blade back with me to Casterly Rock and presenting it to my brother, your father. It will be for him to determine the succession of the sword and the head of House Lannister. And besides, Jamie doesn't need this sword. Because, despite what some here may think, the sorcerer is very aware of politics and proper etiquette. And while he has continued North after healing Lady Baratheon, he has tasked me with the delivery of his tribute to the royal family. With your leave, your grace?"

Grinning behind his heavy beard, Robert motioned for Gerion to do whatever the hell he wanted, to which the Lost Lannister got up from his seat and left the Small Council chambers, only to return a moment later leading in two men in Baratheon colors who were carrying a long narrow box as long as a man. Getting up from his seat, Robert was almost giddy with excitement as he watched the two men set the long box down on the table and pry open the top.

Peering into the box, Robert felt his grin widen even further as he reached inside and pulled out a claymore that had black gemstones placed across the crossguard. It wasn't the first time he'd held a Valyrian steel sword. Hells, Ned had even let him handle Ice on more than one occasion. But even knowing the unique properties of Valyrian steel, he was still caught slightly off guard by the relative lack of weight to the blade. And while he was certainly more at home caving in men's chests with a war hammer, he wasn't above wielding a sword. Especially a Valyrian steel sword.

"The sorcerer felt that delivering a weapon worthy of a King would be a sufficient tribute," the Lannister went on as Robert drew the claymore out of the sheath to reveal the distinctive Valyrian steel patterns upon the naked steel. "But he also wanted to leave no doubt as to whether such a tribute was enough. So, he has also sent seven other longswords that are to be wielded by the Kingsguard and passed down from one member to the next. After all, the King of Westeros deserves only the best for his protection."

"His tribute is noted, and no further questions or demands will be made of him regarding his loot from Valyria," Robert declared, better to make things official and all that horse shit. "Well, Lannister, name it."

"Your grace?"

Putting the sword away, he motioned for the two Baratheon men to take the box away while he retook his seat, his new sword held firmly in his grasp. "You went and fucked the Valyrians in the ass and lived to tell about it, found your families ancestral sword, and now you've gone and delivered the sorcerer's tribute for him. Name your boon and I'll grant it."

"Your grace, I…Well, there is only one thing that I would ask you for. While I was in that hell, I…I made a promise to myself and to the gods. A promise that I want to fulfill but fear I will only be able to do so with your blessing, your grace."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Robert growled. "Stop kissing my ass like a two-copper whore and get on with it already!"

"Very well," Gerion sighed before straightening and looking Robert directly in the eye. "I wish for my daughter, Joy, to be legitimized in the eyes of the realm and the gods."

Of all the things Robert thought the man would ask for, this was perhaps the last. Hells, he wasn't even aware that the Lannister had a daughter, let a bastard child. "Done," Robert nodded, rising to his feet. The request was simple enough, even if some members on the Council were dead set against him legitimizing bastards. Plus, it had the added benefit of throwing a thorn into Tywin's side, something of which Robert took great delight in as he rarely got the occasion to do so. "Jon, write it up with all the titles and shit, and give it to me to sign. Let's go, Kingslayer, I want to test out this new sword…Dragonsbane. Yes, that's its name. Too bad I didn't have it to cleave that silver-haired fucker's head from his shoulders after I caved in his chest."

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