the last king

(Last Time)

Robert paused as he heard that, his eyes narrowing before he slowly nodded his head, reaching over as he did so and picking the baby up. Ignoring Cersei's slight yelp of protest as he took the baby in his arms, his blue eyes locking with the baby's sea green. "Tytan Baratheon… I suppose that's good enough for our son. What do you think then Tytan?"

In response the baby in Robert's arms suddenly started bawling, making Robert wince as he thrust the child in the direction of the midwife, a grimace passing across his face. The child's wailing already getting on his nerves as he passed the newly named Tytan over to one of his wife's midwives. With that done, Robert then swiftly moved towards the door. "Right, well I'm off hunting!"

Cersei gave Robert a dull look at that, her eyes moving from the wailing baby to Robert in surprise and minor irritation. The slight affection that had been building within her for her husband fading as he decided on a whim to go hunting minutes after his new-born son was born. Robert not even meeting her gaze as he strode out of the room, the Warrior King not at all interested in dealing with wailing children, not when there were boars to hunt and whores to fuck.

As the midwives and Cersei fussed over the crying baby Tytan and the King fled the room. None of those that were present noticed how a jug of water left on a nearby table began to bubble as the baby continued crying.

( - )

Chapter 2

( - )

(In Westeros)

A large cloud of mist appeared in front of Tytan Baratheon as he let out a satisfied sigh, a smile spreading across his handsome face as he surveyed the wild terrain of the North. This was the furthest north the young prince had ever been, and he had to admit, compared the hot, sweaty and stifling atmosphere of King's Landing the North held a certain charm.

At seventeen years old, or seven and ten namedays as they called it here in Westeros, Percy, or Tytan as he now begrudgingly went by had now been considered a man for over a year now. Not that that interested Tytan to much, as despite physically being only seventeen, mentally he was a much older even if occasionally he didn't act that way.

The last seventeen years for Tytan had been… trying to say the least. When he had first become conscious in this new world he had been a babe in arms, how this happened exactly Tytan wasn't sure, though he did think it had something to do with him leaping into the chaotic energies that below Tartarus. Such an action was sure to have had some strange consequences.

Even if those consequences were him somehow being reborn into a new world, one which was geographically completely different to his own. Luckily though when he had been born he had retained all the memories he had previously had, plus he was somehow still a demigod, even if his powers seemed somehow diminished, his connection to the domain of the sea and the earth not being as strong as it had been on earth.

Though that could might either be down to his father not existing in this world, or it could do with the magic in this world declining. The exact reason Tytan wasn't sure of, after all he was no scholar and the few Maesters he had spoken to did not know.

Still he retained his abilities and although not as powerful they set him far above normal men, he was stronger, faster and retained his control over the water and the earth, even if he had needed to trade raw power for refined control. What was more though was that people knew of these abilities.

Tytan when he had gone by the name of Percy Jackson, he had been reckless and bold. And Tytan, well Tytan was exactly the same person, as such he had had no shame when using his powers whenever it suited him.

Now if Tytan had been born a commoner he would likely have been accused of witchcraft and been drowned, lynched, burned alive take your pick. Luckily though he had been born the Crown Prince, as such when he used his abilities the Maesters had proclaimed him 'Blessed by the Seven'. They had also claimed that this was the God's way of honouring Robert for overthrowing the tyrannical Targaryens.

How much of this was their own words and how much was due to Tytan's mother Cersei forcing them to say this was debatable. But either way the uneducated masses lapped up the Maesters words.

So yeah, if he was honest with himself Tytan couldn't be happier to have been reborn into this world, it certainly beat traverse the hellish landscape of Tartarus for an eternity. That being said, a part of him still missed the people he had known before his torment in Tartarus, his mother Sally, his partner Annabeth, all his friends at Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter, but he had long ago come to terms with never seeing them again.

This was something he had come to terms with years before he had taken the leap, the relative isolation of Tartarus did give a person a lot of free time for self-examination after all.

Despite that though he was still happier to be here in Westeros, breathing fresh air, drinking clean water and not spending his every living moment in torment. This situation was made better by the fact that he had apparently been born the prince of a medieval like kingdom, or to be more exact a Crown Prince of Seven Kingdoms.

Again Tytan wasn't complaining, even if he did now have to go by the name Tytan. In a hard and unforgiving world like the one he had now been born into, he had been born into a royal family. The first legitimately born son of a King. He had been given everything he could have asked for, he wasn't about to turn his nose up at such a blessing and an opportunity

And opportunity it had been as whilst he was still a young child, his adult mind had allowed him to progress far faster than normal children. Allowing him to walk and talk far faster than many thought possible giving further weight to his ironic 'Blessed by the Gods' status.

Suffice to say his unnatural intelligence for his age and later his supernatural abilities had soon garnered him a lot of attention form Nobles and Maesters alike, and at Tytan's request he was soon being taught about Westeros including its history, its language, its geography and its religions.

It had all been very useful and Tytan had rapidly soaked up the knowledge, or at least he had as far as the continents history, geography and culture was concerned. The language, well that had been a lot more tricky, as it appeared that alongside his Demigod abilities he had also retained his ADHD and Dyslexia, not that any of the Maesters knew what these were. And unlike his abilities these traits were not lessened at all.

Luckily though his beloved mother had had an inkling, as apparently Tytan's uncle Jamie had had a similar affliction. One which he had been cured of by being forced day after day by his father, Tywin, to learn his letters until he had. Unfortunately his mother Cersei had taken that as a challenge and had personally sat the young Tytan down and force him to learn how to read and write.

Day after day she had forced him to learn, his mother drinking her wine and conducting her business whilst Tytan was sat at a desk working. That had been the first time that Tytan had resented his lot life, even if it had only been for a moment before reality had set in and he had realised what a little shit he was being.

That had been painfully embarrassing. Fortunately though he had prevailed and after a few months he had begun to make progress and eventually he had learned how to read and write in Westerosai.

The years that followed this had been quite pleasant for Tytan, being born into privilege like he was meant that he had had time to spare plus the wealth to have tutors in anything he had an interest in. Which for Tytan meant he had had the Kingdom's best warrior, Barristan Selmy teaching him to fight, or re-teaching him. Which for Tytan who retained all his old memories meant it was like a walk in the park, a prodigy was what they called him. After all, all he had needed to do was rebuild his muscle memory plus adapt his style to suit that of a Westerosai sword as oppose to Anaklumous.

Of course initially he had contemplated having a replica of Anaklumous made as he knew the sword better than anything, unfortunately though he didn't have the first clue about forging. The Children of Hephaestus having been the ones who forged and maintained the majority of his equipment. Plus he hadn't even tried in the end as he knew no replica could ever replace his blade, it would feel like nothing more than a hollow shell.

As the years continued to pass and Tytan became older and began gaining more responsibilities and gaining more freedom and independence, he began to gain something of a reputation. A reputation that only increased after he had begun talking part in tournaments at the age of sixteen, winning the joust and the melee several times over the past year and gaining himself a reputation as an exemplary warrior.

That's not to say that his reputation was all that golden, despite the prestige he had been born into, his martial abilities and the Demigod powers he retained. After all, after having spent however long in Tartarus, living in constant misery and discomfort, Tytan had, when he had become old enough, engaged in every vice he could.

From the age of twelve onwards he had drunk excessively, drinking fine wines and ales almost as much as his father. On top of that he had begun to delve into the pleasures of the flesh, bedding anything he could as he allowed himself to be consumed by his vices. For Tytan these pleasures has soothed the pain of his past miseries in Tartarus.

However his activities they had eventually become known had somewhat stained Tytan's reputation among the older nobles and the like, with many people comparing him to his drunkard, whore mongering father. It had taken him up until a few months ago to properly rein himself in, Tytan having to restrain himself from his urges, knowing as he did that they were only there because of his memories with Tartarus, one didn't walked away from the horrors of the pit without scars.

So yes for the most part he had had a good life here in Westeros, far better than it would have been had he been born a commoner, likely if that had happened he would have died young.

Recently though after he had begun to pull himself back together, he had come to a conclusion. First that yes he had been lucky to be born into the life he had been, but also that he was squandering that life. He was living that life only for his own enjoyment, his own satisfaction. This was the antithesis of the person Tytan believed himself to be.

This is why in recent months Tytan had decided that it was time for him to start learning about how to be a good king. Not a king like his father though, knowing as he did that Robert was an absolute turd of a king, one that made Zeus look semi decent. Instead Tytan wanted to be a king his people could look up to, one who brought about the betterment of his subjects. This meant he would have to learn more than just how to fight, or lead in a battle both of which being skills he had acquired when living the life of a simple Demigod, but he would also have to learn how to rule a large kingdom.

Letting out another Tytan turned away from the sprawling lands of the North, ignoring the complaints of the horse beneath him as he instead looked over at the man riding next to him.

The man next to him was Tytan's uncle, a tall blonde man, with green eyes and handsome features. This was Jamie Lannister, Tytan's mother's brother and a member of King Robert's Kingsguard and the one assigned to Tytan's own protection. Well him alongside the six other Lannister men-at-arms that were riding after the two of them, all of them wearing a mixture of mail and plate armour, with engraved pauldrons and tabards displaying the Lannister lion over their chests.

For the most part Tytan and Jamie got on despite their being a difference in their physical ages and their positions. After all they bothered loved fighting, and were naturals with a blade, with Tytan having in recent years usurped Jamie's title as the finest swordsman in Westeros, or at least as far as tournaments were concerned. On top of that they both shared a rather cynical view on life, as well as a general distain for Robert and a love for Cersei.

Though Tytan suspected the way he loved his mother was very different to the way Jamie loved her. Not that he was going to say anything, he had been or maybe still was a Demigod after all. Pretty much the entire of Tytan's divine family had been inbred. Hell Annabeth, Tytan's old girlfriend had been his cousin, plus a few naiads he had messed around with had been his half-sisters.

Which is why he wasn't too bothered about Jamie and Cersei's relationship and indiscretions, after all Robert was a shit person and his mother and uncle weren't hurting anyone. As long as they were both happy and kept it to themselves he didn't care.

This was mainly because he had begun to suspect that his three siblings, all of them younger than him with blonde hair and green eyes, Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella, were in fact the bastard offspring of Jamie and Cersei.

Which if Tytan was right and the truth came out, well he had no doubt that Robert wouldn't just kill Jamie and Cersei but would kill Tytan's siblings too. Which he would probably make Tytan kill Robert, as he was rather fond of his siblings, or at least Tommen and Myrcelle, he still wasn't sure about Joffrey. His younger brother having a bit of a psychotic streak in him that occasionally put Tytan on edge.

"Well by the looks of it we should be reaching Winterfell around midday." Tytan said as he looked over at Jamie, before he turned his head and looked over at the fortified city in the distance. The city being large as far as northern cities went, but still small compared to the massive expanse of King's Landing, the capital of Westeros.

The city they were approaching was known as Winterfell, the largest city in the north and the ancestral home of House Stark, the Wardens of the North, and a family his father was exceptionally fond of. Mainly because of his friendship with the current Lord Stark, Eddard.

In fact Eddard was the reason they were travelling to Winterfell. As a few months prior before this prolonged journey north began, the former Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, the King's adviser and a long time father figure to both Robert and Eddard had died.

Which meant that he had needed to be replaced, hence the entire royal family along with a grand procession taking a three month journey up north just so Robert could ask Ned Stark to be his Hand, something the fat King could have done in a raven. With Tytan having mentioned this possibility to his father several times.

"Yes, though knowing our luck it will take us another day." Jamie replied in a bored voice as he looked at the royal procession trailing behind them before looking over at his nephew a slight smile tugging at his face.

Tytan Baratheon, the Crown Prince of Westeros. He was a handsome man, which was something that no one could deny. His features were a perfect mix of Lannister and Baratheon, with Tytan having sea green eyes, short, thick black hair and a strong powerfully built body. The man fit the role of Crown Prince perfectly, from both the way he looked and the way he acted.

Currently the prince was wearing a set of leather armour, the leather being a dark brown colour with a suit of finely woven mail beneath it. The armour was a lot lighter than the gold coloured plate armour Jamie was wearing, and at the moment Jamie was somewhat jealous, as riding a horse in full plate was a sweaty and unpleasant business.

"True, but who says we have to wait with the damn procession?" Tytan replied cheerfully as he angled his horse away from the distance Winterfell and began to canter back to the column.

"What are you up too?" Jamie asked suspiciously as he and the prince's six other guards followed behind Tytan.

"Why just going to tell the fat man that I'm heading to Winterfell ahead of the rest of the procession." Tytan replied cheerfully. "I'll probably give him some bullshit about making sure that everything is in order for his arrival."

"You really think he'll believe that?" Jamie asked uncertainly, knowing as he did that as much as he despised Robert Baratheon, the man was not stupid.

"No of course not, but knowing the fat man he'll be either so drunk he's likely pissed himself, or will be balls deep in some whore. Either way he won't give a damn what I say and will want to get rid of me." Tytan replied, showing absolutely no respect for his father. The man far too often reminding Tytan of his old stepfather Gabe, so much so that it had destroyed any potential Tytan had of building a relationship with the man.

Not that Robert was at all interested in one. Initially when Tytan had begun to show off his control over water the King had taken an interest, and when Tytan had showed himself to be a prodigy with a blade that interest had heightened. But years of excessive drinking, and the clear preference Tytan showed for his mother had killed off any chance of them building a proper, healthy relationship.

Still though the King showed himself to be proud of Tytan's accomplishments, and often allowed him to take over Robert's duties like his seat at the Small Council, doling out the King's Justice and listening to petitions. That though was mainly because Robert hated doing that and instead wanted more time to fuck boars and hunt whores, or whatever it was he did.

"You know if any other man said that Robert would have their tongue cut out." Jamie spoke up blithely.

"It's a good thing I'm not any other man then, isn't it?" Tytan responded with a large grin as he and his entourage met up with the procession, Tytan heading for where his red faced, wine swigging father was barely staying on his horse.

( - )

Riding away from the Royal Procession, Tytan couldn't help but grin as he and his small group ate up the distance to Winterfell. Grinning wider he exulted in the freedom of just galloping through the countryside, it beat the dreary pace the procession set, hampered as it was by all of the large wagons, camp followers and the King and Queens regular stop offs.

With his mother either getting board of riding in her heavy and ornate carriage with her other children and her ladies and waiting, the Queen instead wishing to stretch her legs or have luncheon in the fresh air. That or Robert deciding he wanted to go hunting on a whim, or getting so pissed the procession had to stop so he could be thrown in the back of one of the wagons.

Either way the pace had been stifling, and over that time Tytan who was always prone to boredom had been getting antsy. After all the only fun he had had in weeks was the occasional spar with Jamie or Barristan, or every now and then the chance to lead some of the guardsmen out to rout a gang of bandits or thugs. One of the many that plagued the King's Road, often looking for merchant caravans they could raid.

The last chance he had had though was over a hundred leagues back down the King's Road, with such opportunities becoming far sparser the further the column travelled up north. Now though, now Tytan was finally able to break free, with him now heading to Winterfell, under the assumption that he was 'making sure everything was ready for the King's arrival'.

His conversation with his father had been about what he had expected. He had ridden over to the King, only to find him already somewhat drunk and telling Barristan stories of his past glories. Suffice to say when Tytan had told him what he was going to do, the man had just waved him on, telling him to 'do as he wanted'.

Tytan had ended up taking him at his word and had since ridden away from the slow moving column. Both Jamie and the six Lannister guardsmen assigned to his protection riding with him.

"So what are you planning to do once we reach Winter Town, Tytan?" Jamie called out as he moved his horse so it was now riding beside his nephew, referencing the small town that had sprung up around the Winterfell as he did so. "After all we can't arrive before the King, it would be seen as inappropriate."

"Well I'll probably explore, see if there are any good inns to visit." Tytan replied in amusement as he heard Jamie's worries, legitimate as they were. "Who knows we may run into your little brother whilst we are there. He did ride ahead of the main party earlier after all, knowing him he is probably begging for a shag at one of Winterfell's brothels."

"As if you weren't planning on visiting there yourself." Jamie replied with a short laugh, the older man having long come to terms with Tytan's many vices and oddities. "Also I would save your jests for when you see Tyrion. Knowing how you two get on you'll be trading barbs and insults by the end of the night, and with my brother's sharp tongue you'll need all the ammunition you can."

Tytan laughed as he heard that, knowing as he did that what Jamie said was true, as Tytan and Tyrion's relationship was odd to say the least. For the most part the two of them got along relatively well, both of them bonding over a shared love of wine and women. But they also argued often with Tytan being a man of action whilst Tyrion was a man of words, often time this led to them clashing over the pettiest of things.

"True, true. Now come along Uncle, time's wasting!" Tytan replied with a laugh as he dug his heels gently into the flanks of his horse, grinning as he heard his horse whinny of delight at finally being able to run free.

"Oi, wait up!" Jamie shouted as he saw the young prince riding away, heading down the King's Road and on to the distant city of Winterfell.

( - )