18

299 AC

oOo

Somewhere sailing in the Narrow Sea, With Stannis…

He was alive.

It was a self-conscious thought that should've filled Stannis with a sense of faith, or at least relief, but the only thing the last true Baratheon felt was shame.

For while he had survived his deadly encounter with the Ironborn, even managing to kill Victarion and drive off the Greyjoy woman, it hadn't been without its sacrifices.

In his cabin, Stannis sat upright in bed, eyes staring silently at the red flames of a nearby brazier. Or rather, one of his eyes was.

Thick bandages were wrapped around the upper half of his face, concealing his empty right eye socket. The result of the final actions of a dying Victarion Greyjoy.

An eye for a life couldn't be considered a loss when comparing the two, but that wasn't the only thing he had lost.

Stannis briefly glanced down to the bloody bandaged stump that stopped just below his left shoulder.

This injury hadn't been done as an act of desperation like Victarion's, but as an act of loss and rage by the Greyjoy woman whose name he now firmly remembered to be, Asha.

The woman had honestly fought a better fight than her uncle had. And Stannis wasn't just saying that because she was still alive while her uncle was long dead drifting somewhere below in the sea.

Asha Greyjoy had the shocking bite and quickness of an electric eel. Every move she made was done so with the intent of completely incapacitating him. She was a warrior of great skill and even greater will.

Had Stannis not been gratefully assisted by Ser Davos in driving the raging woman off, he may not even be alive.

Stannis looked back at the red flames, his thoughts about the Greyjoy woman and the Ironborn in general were pushed to the back of his mind as he began thinking about something that kept nagging at his mind ever since his essential defeat.

The parting words of his red priestess and lover, Melisandre, reverberated through his mind.

All men must meet death. Only the blessed may temporarily avoid it. And only the divine can escape it.

Stannis hadn't understood what the woman was talking about at the time. He had simply written it off as her being her usually vague and mysterious self.

But he was beginning to think that the mystical woman had foreseen his defeat at the hands of the Ironborn.

And if so, then why hadn't she told him?

At first, thoughts of treachery ran through his mind, but after he calmed down his initial fury, he began to think about the possibility that Melisandre hadn't told him of her vision because she wasn't allowed to interfere too much with the future. It was something she had spoken about at length with him.

So perhaps that was why she had left him with that last cryptic message.

Or perhaps he was simply being foolish and didn't want to believe that his priestess turned lover would betray him by not revealing her vision of his defeat.

Regardless, what happened had already happened. His army and fleet was in a poor state, reduced to a couple hundred men and barely a dozen or so ships. And he was also gravely wounded.

His current ability to wage war for the crown was practically non-existent and many people were aware of that fact. It wouldn't surprise him at all if his forces dwindled even further due to deserters thinking he was already defeated.

The red flames of the nearby fire sparkled with orange as an influx of will entered through Stannis's being, his blue eyes growing darker as if being consumed with storm clouds.

"My fate was foretold and my end will not be here." Stannis repeated his mantra that he was feeling more and more in-tune with.

He would retreat from the war for now in order to lick his wounds and regain his strength. But one day, he would return to the Seven Kingdoms and bring about a storm so furious that it would sweep away whoever sat upon the throne that was rightfully his.

oOo

At Kings Landing, with Tyrion…

At last, some good news had finally come.

In the last weeks or so leading up to their defense against Stannis Baratheon, Tyrion had all but conceded that his family were most likely going to be either killed during the siege or executed shortly afterward.

So after coming up with a plan to lure Stannis's initial ships into a fiery doom that still would've resulted in their demise, he had spent what would've been his last days alive drowning in wine and whores.

But then, everything had changed when news came of Stannis's retreat at the hands of the Ironborn.

Apparently the Baratheon man's fleet had been ambushed while on its way to Blackwater Bay and the resulting naval battle was devastating for both sides.

Nearly all of the Iron Fleet was destroyed, as was the majority of the Royal Fleet, and while he had unfortunately been able to survive the battle, the injuries Stannis sustained were supposedly quite severe.

So now, King's Landing was only faced with one major obstacle. Defending against the newly made Targaryen-Tyrell-Martell coalition.

A task that was far more daunting than fighting off Stannis's army would've been.

They were reportedly up against a combined army of over one hundred & eighty thousand troops. The largest union of soldiers ever in the history of the Seven Kingdoms.

And since his father, Tywin's, army was essentially stuck fighting the North in the west (which was a devious tactic in itself), the union of Targaryen loyalists was all but clear to focus all of their efforts on the capital.

Needless to say…

"We're fucked." Ser Bronn commented with absolute certainty.

The two of them, dwarf and man, stood side by side in one of the training courtyards of the Red Keep.

They were watching the king, Joffrey, go through various sword drills. Well, attempt to at least.

The king had been put under sword training for a few weeks now and he was just as horrid at swinging his sword as he was when he first started.

Usually, his demon child of a nephew would be stalking about the castle terrorizing his subjects or tormenting some poor animal, but that all changed a few weeks ago when Tyrion informed the king and his small council that the only option they had to come out on top against the Targaryen's was if Joffrey challenged the other boy, Perseus, to a trial by combat.

As expected, the initial reception of his idea had been poorly received, especially by his sister, Cersei, but after Tyrion made the council members and his sister realize the cold reality that they had only gotten lucky with averting Stannis, they decided that his idea was of some merit.

So, they promptly decided to have Joffrey go under the tutelage of arguably the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms, the commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy.

But as things were proceeding, Tyrion was becoming less enthusiastic about the idea of his nephew being able to best the son of Rhaegar in combat who was apparently quite competent when it came to sword fighting.

"Is this really our only chance of survival?" Ser Bronn asks him, an incredulous look on the cunning man's features.

Tyrion heaved a great sigh as Joffrey once more botched a rather simple disarming trick and began yelling childishly at Ser Barristan about how he was teaching him wrong.

"As sad as it is, yes this is our only chance of surviving the war." Tyrion says.

"More like pitiful. The boy can't even swing a sword properly. We'd have better luck training his sister to seduce the Targaryen bloke." Ser Bronn snorts.

Meanwhile, Tyrion blinked and silently thought about the possibility of the man's jape which made Ser Bronn shoot him a dodgy glance.

"Bloody hell, we really are fucked if you're actually thinking about whoring out a child." Ser Bron says dryly.

Tyrion rolled his eyes at the man's black humor. "Not whoring. But the possibility of a match between my niece and Rhaegar's son isn't so ridiculous to imagine." He hummed, his business savvy brain already calculating how to go about making such a deal.

"We could at least avoid being outright executed if they're married" Tyrion stated.

"Yeah, but why would the Targaryen boy want to marry the daughter of his sworn enemy? It just seems like too much trouble for no reason to me." Bronn points out.

"This is why you need to ingratiate yourself more with the noble way of life, my friend. If the Targaryen's marry the princess of the old regime, it would completely cement them as the new rulers of the kingdoms. The Westerlands and the Stormlands would no longer be able to argue or rebel against their crowning if we ourselves accept it, under certain conditions of course. Mainly us not being executed." Tyrion adds bluntly.

Ser Bronn hummed uncaringly at that news. "Well, I heard those sick bastards fuck each other so your little plan to marry a child off to them might actually work." He shrugged, drawing another eye roll from his benefactor.

Ignoring the man any further, Tyrion began to genuinely think about the chances of such a plan being a success.

Sure, his niece was only nine name days old, which was much too young to consummate a marriage, but a betrothal in itself would be enough to at least stall their heads from being put on the chopping block when their inevitable time to step down from the seat of power came.

Tyrion glanced back at his psychotic and incompetent nephew who was failing miserably to finish a single lap around the training ground.

It was after seeing this pathetic scene that his mind was made.

An invitation to discuss the possibility of a trial of combat occurring between the two rival faction leaders would be sent in a few day's time.

But not before Tyrion added a small clause to the contract that would hopefully go unnoticed among the many other clauses that he purposely made to be brash and outright non-agreeable.

Then if all things went according to plan, not only would Tyrion be able to survive keeping the head he rather liked on his shoulders, but his family would also have the time and opportunity to make their overall situation better after the war was over and things settled down.

But as of now, he could only pray that it all turned out in his favor and nothing drastic changed.

oOo

At Bitterbridge, with Willas Tyrell…

The heir of Highgarden looked around the table at the group of lords.

Even though most of the lords present were from the Reach, as there were only a few Dornish lord's stationed in Bitterbridge, a sense of astonishment sparkled within him.

Never did Willas expect to see Dorne and Reach lords standing shoulder to shoulder.

Even during the reign of Aerys the Mad when they were allies in name only, and despite their close history, their two regions had kept a respectable distance apart and only interacted with each other when they needed to trade essential goods.

Now, they were about to embark on a joint venture to reclaim the throne for its rightful rulers.

Willas could only hope that more shows of unity such as this would become a common occurrence once his and Perseus's plan of uniting the Seven Kingdoms into one came to fruition.

All chatter ceased when the command tent flapped open, revealing two men. First, the commander of the Unsullied, whose name was Grey Worm, and secondly, the Lord of Griffin's Roost, Ser Jon Connington.

The two men gave the room a keen glance before they each stepped out to the side, allowing the king to make his entrance.

Perseus strode into the tent with a lax yet somehow regal gait. He was no longer dressed in the gold and black armor set he wore when he first came to the Reach.

Now, the Targaryen king wore full leather armor that was painted with a red color that was so dark that it almost looked black.

But what really made the armor set unique was the engravings of dragons that were etched into every part of the armor, from the shoulder guards down to the greaves.

Paired with a polished golden wreath that shone brightly when hit directly by the light and Blackfyre, the fabled sword of House Targaryen, beautifully crafted with Valyrian steel and a ruby encrusted pommel, that rested valorously on his hip, Perseus was the epitome of what a warrior king should look like.

However, what really made the Targaryen strike fealty in his allies and fear into his enemies was his own immense aura that was both inviting and oppressive.

As if siding or not siding with him was entirely optional, but if one chose the latter then they would be crushed utterly.

It was something Willas had felt the time he had seen the 'real' Perseus back then on that fateful night in Highgarden.

And he could tell by the way the other lords instinctively straightened their postures and lowered their gazes by just a fraction that they felt this intense aura just as much as he had that night.

Perseus walked to the head of the table and after setting his sword aside, he sat down before gesturing to them.

"Please, have a seat. We have much to talk about." He says, prompting all of them to sit.

As Willas took his seat to the right of Perseus, he noticed the king take out a few letters from his person before he spoke.

"As all of you may already know, the Starks have been fighting the Lannisters in the Westerlands for quite some time now. Many believed that Robb Stark would be incapable of waging war against Tywin Lannister, but they were all proven to be very wrong. Robb Stark has made quite the impact on the Lannister's army." Perseus passes one of the letters to Willas, who quickly skims over it as he had already been made aware of its contents the day prior before passing it to the lord to his right.

"That is a report of all the casualties that the armies of the North and West have suffered up until a few weeks ago. As you can see, the losses on both sides are quite extensive." Perseus patiently waited for each of the lords present to read over the report before he continued.

"Now since we've all seen that both the North and the West have suffered greatly in this war-" Perseus paused before revealing. "-I've recently taken it upon myself to contact Robb Stark with an offer that would see us aiding the North against the West."

The reactions of this news came a bit delayed as it wasn't exactly something anyone would have expected. If Willas hadn't already been told of the news then he too would've been stumped.

Eventually though, the lords managed to fully process what they had just heard.

"I say this with the utmost respect and curiosity, your grace, but is there a need to do such a thing?" One of the lords present, Lord Rowan of Goldengrove, inquires.

Perseus seemed to nod in understanding. "It's certainly strange to ally myself with the very same people who helped bring about the downfall of my family, but does that make it any less beneficial?" The question he posed stumped Lord Rowan who didn't know how to respond.

Seeing that no other lord was coming to Lord Rowan's aide or putting up their own rebuttals, Perseus explained. "We do not have to wage war against the North. Or rather, it's more beneficial to make peace with them and settle on our differences so we can focus on the enemy that truly matters…the usurpers." Those words filled the air with a tenseness that made every man present stir in their seats.

"But first, we'll need to make sure Robb Stark and his army survives past the fortnight." Perseus says. "So I'll be sending my uncle, Viserys, along with the Golden Company to defeat the men Tywin Lannister has been gathering at Castamere before having him siege on Casterly Rock. This should be enough of a distraction to keep Robb Stark alive until we can take King's Landing."

"Why don't we just completely crush Tywin Lannister and his army?" Lord Branston of House Cuy questioned aloud, perplexed.

It was Lord Tarly who responded. "Because if Robb Stark is still fighting for his life by the time his majesty reclaims the throne then it'll be much easier to make the North swear fealty in return for our direct aid." The veteran general tells the man, receiving a look of understanding.

Seemingly nodding in verification of the response, Perseus continued. "Since that's out of the way. Willas, has Ser Garlan and the Redwyne Fleet successfully stopped Stannis from barricading himself in my ancestral home?" He asks him.

Willas gave him a nod of confirmation. "But although the Nymerian Fleet tried to pursue Stannis and the remnants of the royal fleet, he was still able to escape into the Narrow Sea. His destination hasn't been confirmed as of yet, but I would assume that it'll be someplace far from Westerosi shores in order to heal from his injuries and gather his strength." He tells his king.

"Don't worry about following him then. Let Stannis tuck tail and hide. Just have Ser Garlan purge Dragonstone of all remnants of Baratheon filth." Perseus says, gaining a nod from him.

The king then turned to the rest of the lord's and gazed at them with a fierce gaze. "In a few days, we'll begin marching the majority of the army to our forward base and begin the siege on King's Landing. Once we're there, you should all understand that there is no option of failure. We must successfully take the capital and we need to do it with the absolute least amount of civilian casualties. I will not have my reign start with the blood of innocent citizens on my hands. We are better than the Lannister's, so let's prove that by maintaining our principles." At the king's words, every lord nodded their heads in agreement and their eyes glinted with firm belief that they would do what was being asked of them.

Perseus continued to firmly gaze around at the lord's before he nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Let's begin preparations now." He says, signaling for Lord Tarly to begin going over the logistics of the upcoming march.

As the meeting went on, Willas mostly listened in silence, only giving his honest input when a not so obvious problem arose. But he also closely studied his chosen leader.

Not for any particular purpose, he simply wanted to see how serious Perseus was about reclaiming his kingdom.

And based off the sheer focus and attentiveness Perseus showed throughout the meeting, Willas was able to confirm that he had indeed made the right choice of siding with the Targaryen monarch and giving him the opportunity to be the spearhead for the ultimate goal of unifying the Seven Kingdoms.

Willas knew that one day Perseus would lead the entire continent into a new age, a golden age.

But of course before they could begin the creation of their future utopian nation, they first had to bring about the destruction of the current dystopian fiefdom.

It will be a time where all forms of corruption, inefficiency and disharmony were razed to cinder, an age of fire.

oOo

At King's Landing, with Petyr Baelish…

Walking past the two Gold Cloaks that guarded one of his many brothels, Petyr gave a quick glance around at the lounge area he was greeted with.

As expected, there were countless whores that circulated throughout the room with each of these whores wearing barely any clothing or no clothing at all.

Mingling among them were drunken customers, most of whom were men but there were women who were either too ugly to find a man to fuck her or the few women of lower nobility who wanted to experience the loss of their maiden hood under their own conditions.

But none of this mattered to Petyr as he walked past the ongoings, only pausing to give some of his best whores a smile and an encouraging pat on the ass.

Going up the guarded staircase that led to the much more secluded second floor, Petyr walked down a long hall riddled with entrances to rooms, some of which were closed and by the moans or grunts from behind them it was surely for business purposes.

He walked until he reached a large, reinforced door that was currently closed. Though this didn't deter him as he simply brought out a master key to open the door and enter.

After stepping inside the room and closing it behind him, Petyr immediately registered the heavy musky scent in the air with a wrinkled nose before he was met by the view of the very person he had come to see.

Many people, common folk and nobility alike, thought that Ser Gregor Clegane was the biggest man born in recent memory.

But looking at the nearly eight foot tall behemoth of a man made Petyr believe that the Mountain That Rides had to be the biggest man ever born.

Prior to his entrance, guttural grunts had filled the air as Ser Gregor was in the midst of brutally hammering into a whore who looked of Lyseni descent based on her dark silver-ish hair and purple eyes.

But the giant of a man stopped his actions to turn his head to the side to look at Petyr with fierce gray eyes that glinted with madness and the promise of a painful death.

Thankfully recognizing him as someone he probably shouldn't kill, the enormous knight gave a grunt of annoyance. "What do you want, Little Finger?" He growled as he resumed his prior actions.

Sparing a glance toward the Lyseni whore who cried and whimpered in pain as the large man speared her from behind with what looked to be a foot long cock without a single care for her wellbeing, Petyr wisely ignored the use of his demeaning nickname and calmly addressed the knight.

"I have a proposal for you, Ser Clegane. One that I think you'll be very interested in agreeing to." Petyr starts.

"I don't give a fuck about any proposal you may have. Get the hell out of here!" The hulking knight states bluntly before making use of his big, meaty hands to widely spread apart the ass cheeks of his purchased whore, seemingly taking cruel satisfaction in looking at his bloodied cock grossly splitting her folds apart.

Having expected this response from the knight that many claimed to be Lord Tywin's mad dog, Petyr smoothly replied. "What if my proposal gave you the opportunity to have someone with the blood of dragons at your mercy?" He reveals, gaining a small smirk when the man very abruptly pauses in his actions (something he was sure the Lyseni whore was thankful for).

Before reaching out to Ser Gregor Clegane, Petyr had collected a rather extensive amount of information on the knight.

And one of the things he had come to learn was that the majority of Ser Gregor's purchased whores were clearly of Old Valyrian descent, mostly Lyseni or Volantenes women.

To be fair, this could have just meant l that Ser Gregor simply preferred exotic looking whores. But Petyr didn't believe that a monster like the Mountain really cared how exotic a whore was. Especially since the man never purchased any pleasure slaves from the Summer Isles, Asshai or any other exotic place.

So, he quickly surmised that the knight was simply using the gold/silver hair and purple eyed women as a way to live out a sick fantasy where he could bed (undoubtedly through force) a member of the fabled house of dragons.

And based on the glint of intrigue that shone through the mad gleam of the knight's eyes, Petyr's analysis had been made correct.

"What are you talking about?" Ser Gregor finally turned to fully face him, uncaringly tossing the crying Lyseni to the front of the bed to nurse her ruined snatch.

Petyr avoided cowering under the man's muscled form that rippled with thick veins. And he very pointedly avoided looking at the man's massive, dangling cock.

"I've recently acquired vital information that in a week or so Perseus Targaryen will be personally leading the majority of his army to King's Landing from Bitterbridge." Petyr says.

Ser Gregor's beady grey eyes blinked before he sneered. "What the fuck does mean to me? I can't take on a whole fucking army by myself and I definitely ain't no boy-lover." He growled.

"Yes, but that's not what's important." Petyr refrained from sighing before he revealed. "While Perseus Targaryen will be leading his army to the capital, his aunt, Daenerys, will be going back to Storm's End with only a decently sized convoy as protection."

Slowly, the giant's pea-sized brain began to connect the dots and when he did, a large cruel smile appeared on his face as he no doubt began thinking all types of degenerate thoughts.

Before the knight could make a sound though, Petyr spoke. "However, in exchange for this information I have but one request." He says, gaining a scowl.

"What is it?" Ser Gregor growled out.

"You must keep the Targaryen girl alive, no matter what. She will be more useful to the crown and Lord Tywin if we can use her as a bargaining chip." Petyr tells the knight, knowingly naming the knight's sworn lord for more leverage.

The Mountain's scowl deepened as he thought about his request before he eventually gave an annoyed grunt. "Fine, I'll let the dragon bitch live after I'm done with her." He growled.

Having made their agreement, Ser Gregor turned back to the Lyseni whore who stared at him with an extremely frightful expression. "C'mere fake dragon." He grinned maliciously before reaching out to her.

The woman pleaded hopelessly to be taken more gently as the giant man effortlessly pulled her to him by her ankle.

Not heeding her words in the slightest though, Ser Gregor flipped her back on her front, forcefully bent her over and re-entered her with a vicious thrust that made her scream in pain.

Not seeing any more reason to remain present, Petyr turned his back on the sight before he deftly made his exit.

The Mountain would not know this, but the reason Petyr had given him the information about the Targaryen's movements and made him promise to not kill the princess after her capture was so that he could use the situation as a means for him to gain favor with the soon-to-be king.

Because he had long ago accepted that the Lannister's were on the losing side of the war. And Petyr refused to go down with their sinking ship. He had to bite and claw his way to where he was now and he would be damned to fall now.

So once the news of his aunt's capture at the hands of his most hated enemies reached the young Targaryen, Petyr would have the princess safely rescued using his gold and connections, then use her as a token to gain high favor with the king of the future regime.

A smug smirk adorned Petyr's face as he walked away from the pained screams behind him, the Mountain obviously having upped the ante on the whore in his excitement.

His nemesis, the Spider, had taken great glee in subtlety mocking him about his precarious position over the past few months.

Sly jabs about how the Targaryen's wouldn't choose to keep a petty lord in the mix of things once they claimed their birthright had made Petyr's blood boil.

But now, he had firmly set the foundations to his own success. And he couldn't wait to see the fat eunuch's face when he saw his own position being threatened instead of his.

Things had initially turned badly out of his favor ever since the Targaryen's joined the war, but if Petyr was good at anything, it was somehow climbing the ladder that was chaos.

After all, it was easy to stay on the ladder when you were the one firmly holding the bottom of it.

oOo

At the Targaryen's encampment near the Gold Road, with Viserys…

From atop his horse, the prince of House Targaryen stared incredulously at the motley band of men that came in order to seek an audience with him.

After being fully prepared to go another day without anything of note happening, Viserys was quite surprised when one of his scouts reported a small army of men that were making their way directly to him.

His first reaction to that information had been excitement. After all, the time he killed two of Renly's Rainbow Knights had been the last real battle he'd had and that was a while ago.

So even though the group of what looked to be barely four hundred strong wouldn't have posed much of a threat to the dozen or so thousand at his disposal, he had immediately rode out to meet the incoming band of men in full armor and with his army behind him.

Unfortunately, it seemed he was fated to remain twiddling his thumbs on the sidelines.

"So you're not here to fight us?" Viserys asks again, staring at the apparent leader of the other group.

The armored young, red haired man, who introduced himself as Lord Beric Dondarrion, would've looked more suited to be one of the pansy aristocrats that resided in Highgarden had his face not sported a nasty scar that ran across it.

On either side of Lord Beric stood two persons. One was a fat, balding old man whose title was Thoros of Myr. He carried a wooden staff and wore flapping red robes which signified his status as a red priest.

And the other person was a woman that Viserys hadn't seen but had heard about from Perseus. Melisandre, the red priestess who accompanied and aided Stannis Baratheon.

The pale, red haired woman was beautiful, though not quite as beautiful as his Margaery, and had full breasts and a narrow waist that led to long slender legs.

All in all, the red priestess was the type of woman that Viserys would definitely fuck if given the chance. Multiple times at that.

"We are not here to fight you, Prince Viserys." Lord Beric says stoutly. "In fact, my men and I have come to aid you in your family's goal of reclaiming the Iron Throne."

"Why in the seven hells would I need the aid of a group of outlaws and a fat old priest?" Viserys says incredulously before gesturing to the red priestess. "And though I'd very much like to fuck her, I'd have to be a fool to sleep soundly next to one of Stannis Baratheon's people."

The red priestess spoke. "I am no longer aligned with the pretender known as Stannis Baratheon. My allegiance is to the king and the true chosen of R'hllor, Perseus Targaryen." She tells him.

"So you're one of those whores who jumps from cock to cock only when it most benefits you? Then I definitely can't sleep beside you." He snorted.

"My allegiance has always been with the one whom my lord has chosen to lead the army of light." Melisandre replied calmly, seemingly unbothered by his crass comment.

Viserys shot her a dry look. "Yes, I'm sure. Well, my nephew has already experienced what it's like for a bitch to backstab him so I doubt he'll be interested in your allegiance. You all should run along now!" He shooed them away.

"At least hear us out, you prick!" A small, biting voice sounded from behind the red priestess making Viserys lean in his saddle to see who had so bravely spoken.

He was surprised to see a skinny brown haired girl next to a frail looking blonde haired boy.

"Ha! Your little group really is a band of misfits, Lord Beric. Are these children even old enough to part from their milkmaid?" Viserys's mocking words brought a round of chuckles and chortles from the Golden Company.

"Who would want to part from your mother's cow tits?!" The little girl's fiery words suddenly engulfed the surrounding area in a thick and tense silence.

Every sellsword of the company looked to see how the oftentimes ill-tempered Viserys would react. Some were even already clutching the hilts of their weapons as they waited for the inevitable order to slaughter the group of outlaws.

Meanwhile, a stony faced Viserys stared firmly at the little girl who seemed quite unrepentant about her words despite the aghast look of the boy beside her and even had the gall to glare back at him with fierce grey eyes.

The tense silence lasted for a moment longer before something rather unexpected happened.

Viserys suddenly began roaring in laughter.

Everyone seemed surprised at the prince's reaction, so much so that they simply watched on as he laughed so hard that a few tears crept into the corners of his eyes.

Eventually, Viserys's laughter began to cease. "My god's! I'll give you that. That was a good one, girl!" He wiped his tears away, still chuckling a bit.

The spirited girl simply huffed. "My name isn't 'girl', it's Arya." She told him firmly.

Viserys nodded his head, having developed a newfound respect for the little girl who spoke so harshly to him without hesitation. "Well met, Arya." He grinned when he simply drew another huff.

Looking back to the adults, Viserys changed his earlier decision. "Very well, I'll accept your band of outlaws into my forces. But only on one condition."

Lord Beric looked to Thoros who simply shrugged and Melisandre who said nothing before looking back at Viserys and nodded for him to continue.

"Your group will act as the vanguard of my forces until I say otherwise." Viserys tells him.

An immediate round of grumbling arose from the outlaws while Lord Beric scowled. "You want us to be your meat shield." He stated rather than asked.

"Yep!" Viserys says brightly. "I can't exactly put my trust in you all to watch my back as of this moment. Especially that vicious little bitch."

He only smiled when his words gained him a middle finger from Arya.

Meanwhile, Lord Beric shared another look with Thoros who gave him a hesitant nod and Melisandre who gave him a firm nod.

"Very well, I accept these conditions." Lord Beric says gruffly before he gets down on one knee, drawing his sword along the way before presenting it to him in a knightly manner. "My sword and the swords of my men are now yours to use, Prince Viserys."

Behind the lord, the crowd of men also dropped down to one knee and presented their respective weapons to him.

The only ones who didn't kneel were the old priest, the red priestess and the two children behind her.

"My apologies, prince. But my knees aren't as strong as they used to be. I fear it would take a blessing from the Lord of Light himself to make me rise back up from the ground." Thoros grumbled apologetically to him before giving his lowest bow, earning an amused snort.

Looking at the red woman and children, Viserys raised a questioning brow. He didn't really care if the children bent the knee or not and he doubted the little girl whose spirit he had come to like would've done so even at the threat of death based on her fierce glare.

But he was expecting the red priestess to bend the knee. Contrary to his expectation however, the woman remained on her feet.

"I will not kneel to anyone other than Perseus Targaryen or my Lord." Melisandre stated quite firmly before adding. "But since you're the family of my liege, I will pledge to fully give my support for your efforts to make his destined ascension to the throne a reality."

At that, the red priestess gave Viserys a brief and small bow that gave him quite the glorious view of her pale, full tits.

Unbothered by her seeming unwillingness to kneel to anyone other than his nephew, Viserys simply snorted. "My nephew is a very lucky man to have such a beautiful woman who only wishes to kneel before him to show her support. I'm sure he'll be pleased when I write to him about this." He chuckled before turning around with his horse.

Looking at one of the company's commanders, Balaq, who had been silently observing the ongoings from beside him, Viserys gave the dark bow master an order. "Help our new friends here get acquainted! Make sure they're under watch at all times." He whispered the last words, earning a nod of understanding, before he kicked his horse off into a full speed gallop as he went back to camp.

Disregarding the amusing situation with the red priestess who seemed rather fixated with Perseus, the events that just took place was something his nephew needed to know about as soon as possible.

Things were starting to change at a rapid pace so if they wanted to stay ahead of the curve and achieved their goals then they would need to take all variables into consideration.

Viserys's mind drifted to the little girl named, Arya, and his frown deepened. He had only been a young boy when he still lived in the Red Keep, but he remembered all of the treacherous faces that had made up his father's court. Especially the cold, grey eyes and brown hair of the Stark line.

Whipping his reins once to make his horse gallop faster, the letter Viserys was about to write and send off in the next hour would be one of great importance.

After all, he was quite sure that his nephew would want to know how Arya Stark, the supposedly lost and second daughter of the late Lord Stark had ended up in the company of outlaws.

oOo

Nighttime at Bitterbridge, with Perseus…

The southern camp was in a frenzy of activity as soldiers, knights, squires and lords alike either walked or stumbled around.

It was currently the night before they were set to march a large number of soldiers (nearly one hundred thousand men) to further secure their forward operating base that housed an already impressive fifteen thousand strong army of Dornish.

And as per tradition before a lengthy march, a feast for the camp had been held in order to put the men into high spirits and to motivate them to reach their destination at an acceptable pace.

The Tyrell's certainly spared little expense having willfully chosen to splurge their vast resources for the benefit of the soldiers who put their lives on the line for them.

Food, drink and women were brought out in bulk for the men to revel in to their heart's content. It was a known fact that this trifecta would put a smile on any man's face.

And Perseus was no exception to this rule.

A feeling of absolute content filled Perseus's being as he sat in a lofty chair, one hand holding a cup of red wine while the other gripped the waist of his aunt, Daenerys, who was perched on his lap.

They were both half-listening to the tales being told by some of the knights who sat near their table while the other half of their attention was spent on one another as they shared the occasional loving kiss and warm words.

A smile split Perseus's face as Daenerys once again saw it fit to claim his lips for what felt like the umpteenth time that night.

Over the course of the last week or so, his aunt had gradually become less and less shy about publicly displaying their newly kindled love.

Because after realizing that their relationship wasn't getting any outwardly negative reactions from those around them, she had become much more confident.

Perseus was also thankful for the lack of negative responses. Not because he cared for them (he couldn't give a shit what anyone might've thought of his relationship with Daenerys), but he simply didn't want to go through the hassle of having to tiptoe around the prejudices of others.

After all, he couldn't exactly smack his retainers upside the head and call it a day if any of them spoke out against their displays of affection.

Everyone in Westeros would think him the second coming of Aerys the Mad in a heartbeat.

But thankfully, it seemed that everyone was already quite familiar with the history of House Targaryen and the idea of a dragon being matched with another dragon regardless of familial ties. And the few that weren't simply couldn't find the bravery or religious zeal to speak out against it.

A beautiful smile adorned Daenerys's face as she separated from his lips in order to catch her breath.

"I feel so happy right now. I wish this moment could last forever." Daenerys sighs happily, as she affectionately rubs his chest.

Setting his goblet down, Perseus wraps both his arms around her in order to hold her closer. "Trust me, I know how you feel. But we'll be able to spend more time together once the war ends." He tells her reassuringly which gains him another breathtaking smile.

"I can only imagine how my brother will act when he sees us together." Daenerys sighs.

He knew that she wasn't worried about any possible negative reception from her brother, but she was simply bemoaning the fact that Viserys loved to poke fun at others. And they were making themselves a prime target for their fellow kin.

"Well, at least he won't be surprised. I've already told Viserys how I feel about you." Perseus tells her, gaining a raised brow.

"Tell me then, how long have you been scheming to make me fall in love with you?" Daenerys presses him with an amused expression.

Perseus put on the most braggadocious grin he could muster. "You know I never plan anything out. It all just seems to work out in the end." He says with a faux arrogance that earns him a giggle.

"So my falling in love with you was inevitable was it?" Daenerys smiles as she leans closer to him, one of her fingers idly drawing circles on his chest.

"Is there any other man worthy of you?" Perseus grins as he trails his lips closer to hers.

Daenerys's gaze slowly clouded with desire. "You're rather sure of yourself." She breathed out softly.

"I know who I am…and what I want." Perseus replied coarsely.

His aunt's gaze flickered down to his lips and that one look was all it took for their lips to collide once more.

Though this time their kiss wasn't going to be as chaste as the ones prior. He knew that immediately when he felt Daenerys's tongue tentatively lick his lips, all but pleading for entry that he gave without hesitation.

As their tongues met, Perseus left one of his hands to remain on her lower back while he used the other to palm her cheek and deepen the tongue-kiss.

Her lack of experience was far too evident, but that just turned out to be a huge turn on for him. He loved the way she immediately surrendered to him, allowing his tongue to plunder her mouth without any kind of resistance.

Low moans escaped from Daenerys as Perseus effortlessly danced his more experienced tongue around hers.

This continued for several long moments until eventually they had to separate due to a need for air.

A shit eating grin took over Perseus's face as Daenerys rested her head on his shoulder with jaded, half lidded eyes. Her breath prickled his neck hairs as she exhaled heavily, her hands idly pawing at his chest.

Seeing her look so hot and bothered over him simply kissing her was making his pride grow larger by the second.

That wasn't the only thing that had grown larger either. Trapped in his trousers was a throbbing boner that could probably cut through diamond. And it only continued to stay as such due to the constant pressure of Daenerys's ass pressing down on it.

This was the one and only reason that Perseus was actually glad that he was sending Daenerys to Storm's End for the next coming weeks or however long it took for him to capture and dethrone the usurper who sat on the throne.

In the last week or so, his willpower had been under constant attack while he remained true to his intent of not deflowering his aunt until the proper time came about.

Daenerys held a natural purity to her that made his manly instincts go wild with primal desire.

She was like a freshly bloomed lilac just waiting to be plucked by him.

"You're so hard." Daenerys whispers as she shifts in his lap, unknowingly (or perhaps knowingly) rubbing her ass against his erection which only further increases its stiffness and his arousal.

Perseus releases a calming breath as he wraps his arms around her again to stop her squirming. "Yeah, I am. It's kind of hard not to be in this situation." He chuckled at her look of embarrassment.

"Do you want to…" Her question was left to hang in the air.

A part of him wanted to take her up on the unspoken offer. To take her back to their tent, spread her legs apart and fuck her until she screamed his name.

But Perseus knew that he couldn't.

Unlike Tyene or his previous lovers, Daenerys was still a virgin, literally and figuratively, when it came to sexual matters.

So he was positive she wouldn't be able to take all that he could give. He would have to slowly and carefully ease her into those things first or risk hurting her, which was something he would never do.

"No. Let's wait till after the war." Perseus told her.

"But isn't it uncomfortable?" Daenerys murmurs.

"No, not at all." Perseus says, lying through his teeth but he couldn't exactly tell the truth without making her feel obligated to do something to help him.

He would just have to find Tyene later and release his pent up energy on her. It's not like she wouldn't profusely thank him for it despite the guaranteed soreness the next morning.

"Really?" Daenerys raised her head to look him in the eye, her ability to discern whether or not he was lying was far better than anyone else's seeing as how she had grown up with him.

So Perseus brought a hand to her hips, his fingertips ghosting along her rear. A smirk grew on his face as her cheeks went red due to his actions.

"Trust me, Dany. You'll know when it becomes too unbearable. Or rather, you'll feel it." Perseus tells her huskily, making her cheeks grow even redder.

Daenerys buried her face back into his neck in embarrassment. "You can't say things like that, Perseus!" She whined weakly.

"Alright alright. I'll stop, for now." Perseus chuckled before he patted her rear. "How about you retire for the night? I'll be with you soon. But first I have to talk with a few people."

"Or, we could go to bed together." Daenerys offers, obviously not wanting to leave his side, but she eventually relents with a pout after he gives her a firm look.

After sharing one last kiss, though it was much more chaste than their earlier one, Daenerys was escorted out of the clearing by Grey Worm and a group of Unsullied.

As per usual, his gaze trailed after his aunt and her naturally switching hips. His vision was blessed with the delectable view of her plump, pert ass cheeks that were defined quite nicely due to the tight, satin dress she wore.

The sight alone was enough to make him seriously doubt his earlier decision to not go to bed with her.

"Attention! Gather 'round men! May all come and listen!"

Perseus's attention was stolen away by the loud call of a man and he looked toward the source of the sudden commotion.

Some ways ahead, a Dornish man stood atop a table proclaiming to all who could hear him.

"Gather 'round and listen to a song from the most gorgeous woman in all of the Known World!" The Dornish man's boasting drew either shouts of derision or looks of intrigue from countless men.

Nevertheless, nearly everyone present was currently paying attention to the man now, as he (and whoever set him up to the task of drawing as many eyes as possible) had probably planned.

Ignoring the various reactions both vocal or visual from the surrounding soldiers around him, the speaker presented loudly. "Now, for the most captivating, the most mysterious and the most beautiful woman you'll ever witness!" He finished grandly.

As if on cue, the sea of men on one side of the clearing parted into two, revealing a woman, who was clearly of Dornish descent, garbed in the most startling attire that sucked the breath out of every man present.

The curvy and buxom woman wore an extravagant pink silk and sequin mesh court top that accentuated the upper half of her large breasts and exposed her flat stomach with matching pink wide legged pants that did well to hide her no doubt sensual legs but just couldn't seem to fully hide her large and impeccably round ass.

A small, square veil covered half of the woman's face, only allowing her alluringly dark eyes to be seen. All of her attire was lined with gold and littered with dangling jewels.

Murmurs and whispers broke out among the crowd as the mysterious, veiled woman drifted through the path made for her.

Her steps were not rushed, but they were also not too slowly taken. It was as if she were floating along the ground seamlessly with the grace and poise of a nature spirit.

And her calm and confident demeanor never changed even as her swaying body was subjected to the blatant leers and predatory gazes of countless men.

Where most women would've felt and acted like a lamb amongst wolves, this mysterious woman seemed to move through the crowd like a viper that the wolves found to be exotically pleasing to look at while also instinctively knowing not to get too close to the dangerous serpent in fear of being inflicted with a life threatening venom.

As the veiled woman gradually approached the long table the Dornish announcer had been using as a platform, Perseus expected the man to help the woman up onto the table.

And though his thoughts were made correct. The way it happened was certainly not what he had expected.

Before the woman fully reached him, the Dornish stepped back onto solid ground before shockingly enough, kneeling down onto the ground in a prostrated position that allowed the woman to gracefully walk up his back and step on top of the table.

At this point, everyone in a hundred meter radius was now fully aware of the exotic woman as she slowly paced on the table, her dark eyes flickering through the surrounding crowd, though she never held a gaze with anyone for longer than a second or two.

It was as if she were judging them all and finding them inadequate for her attention.

Usually this would've sparked insecurity or outrage, and it most likely did in some, but in general her actions and manner just seemed to make the men even more aroused and starved.

When the woman's eyes landed on him though, her alluring gaze met his gaze of slight curiosity for a good while longer than anyone else.

Perseus could've sworn the woman was smiling at him from underneath her veil, but before he could observe her facial features for any longer the woman broke the stare down.

As the woman cleared her throat in a manner befitting a lady, every man stood or sat ramrod straight and waited with bated breath.

With every moment that passed, the air grew thicker with anticipation as the woman's eyes slowly drifted along the stars that shined brightly in the night sky above.

Then, the deathly silence was broken with a melancholic note that was so beautiful and soothing that it instantly captured the hearts and minds of all those who had ears to hear it.

(OST)

"Home is behind. The world ahead~"

The woman began to sing. Though not to them. No, her gaze was still among the stars, as if she were speaking solely to the heavenly balls of lights above.

"And there are many paths to tread. Through shadow, to the edge of night. Until the stars are all alight~"

All around, the men shuffled and grew a bit closer to the veiled beauty with enraptured gazes, like moths to a flame.

"Mist and shadow. Cloud and shade. All shade fade, all shall fade~"

Suddenly, as if filled with a selfless desire to bestow upon them her direct attention, her eyes sifted through the crowd as she began singing to them, her notes smoothly transitioning to become more upbeat rather than melancholic.

"Still round the corner there may wait. A new road or a secret gate. And though we pass them by today, tomorrow we may come this way. And take the hidden paths that run toward the Moon or to the Sun~"

The effects of that rousing verse were clearly evident with the way the men puffed out their chest or gained the steely gleam of strength in their eyes that grew bolder with the next invigorating verse.

"Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe. Let them go! Let them go! Sand and stone and pool and dell! Fare you well! Fare you well!~"

A gust of wind blew gently through the clearing as the energy in the atmosphere dramatically shifted, instantly stiffening the roused men, as if they were suddenly dropped in a cold plunge.

The veiled beauty no longer seemed energetic, but her previous melancholy air had returned as she stared ahead, her veil fluttering softly in the wind, teasing but never revealing what lay underneath, and sang what everyone knew to be the final note.

But this time, Perseus instinctively straightened up in his seat because the mysterious woman was no longer looking at the crowd, nor was she looking up at the stars.

Now, her dark gaze was fixed firmly on him and she seemed even more alluring now as he suddenly became very aware that from his slightly elevated position (which made it so that the moon was positioned almost directly behind the woman) the silvery light from the heavenly body was doing a divine job of illuminating her voluptuous figure and further enhancing her enchanting beauty.

Perseus felt like the next words were being spoken directly to him.

"Home is behind. The world ahead. And there are many paths to tread. Through shadow, to the edge of night. Until the stars are all alight. Mist and shadow. Cloud and shade. All shall fade. All shall…fade~"

The end of the woman's song was met with neither applause nor cheers. As if every man present had taken up a vow of silence.

Meanwhile, Perseus felt that the woman's song, which he was beginning to think was meant for him, held a greater meaning that he couldn't help but feel a pull toward.

He couldn't fully explain what exactly it was about the song that made him feel so deeply, but he chose to put such soul searching questions to the side for now until a time when he could personally seek answers, perhaps from the enchanting and mysterious source that it had come from.

Bringing his hands up, Perseus continued to hold the woman's gaze as he began to give slow hand claps that resounded throughout the silenced clearing as if they were thunder claps.

The woman's veil shifted, and now he was positive that the woman was reactive to his actions.

Gradually, the surrounding men broke out of their stupor and they too began hurriedly giving their own applause until eventually the clearing was drowned in rambunctious cheers.

Common men and lords alike all swarmed around the veiled beauty, showering her with flowery praise and promises of love or riches.

But all of this didn't seem to matter to the woman because Perseus noticed that even as she traversed the raving crowd, with none daring to touch or get too close to her, their gazes always seemed to meet.

So when their gazes met again, Perseus raised his goblet out to her in acknowledgment before he took a long sip of his wine, eyes that peered over the rim of his cup roamed over her tantalizing form until she finally disappeared from view with one last look back at him.

As the focus of his attention disappeared, Perseus leaned back in his seat.

"That was quite the performance." An amused looking Willas commented from his seat a small distance away from him and he couldn't help but agree.

"It was." Perseus nodded.

"I very much wonder who that mysterious woman was." Willas says with curved lips, gaining a chuckle from him at the man's jape.

"A mystery indeed." Perseus smiled before he began to ponder in silence.

Despite the veil and attire the new woman wore, Perseus was sure that the familiarity he felt when he looked at her was a natural one.

He had a pretty good guess as to who the woman was, and if the rumors about her were true then he had an even better guess as to why she had chosen to perform such an act.

But it didn't really matter at the end of the day what her goal was. All that mattered was that there was more to her than what meets the eye.

And for some reason he felt that seeking the woman out, even if only for the answers that she held to his newfound curiosity, could potentially make him question the way he viewed things.

One could blame it on his inner adrenaline seeking self, but Perseus was never one to shirk away from a challenge. Especially one with such exciting possibilities.

So if her goal had been to catch his eye, then she had exceeded her goal.

Because the enchanting woman not only caught the eye of Perseus Targaryen but she gained his interest as well.