8

Daenerys Targaryen, Astapor.

As the sounds of battle died out and the last of the old rulers were put to the sword, Daenerys felt more alive than ever before. She was buzzing with excitement, as if her whole body was a crackling flame. Her first conquest. Not Drogo's, not Viserys',… hers. Astapor – an ancient city from the times of old Ghis – now laid firmly under her command. She looked at her Unsullied, who stood in formation as they did before the battle, like a crossbow waiting for the next bolt to be loaded and shot. They truly weren't men. Together, in a large unit, they were something far more than a band of slaves.

She looked back to see ser Jorah return to where the 'good masters' once lounged, flanked by her bloodriders. His armor covered in blood and face drenched in sweat. She watched him, her guardian and friend through thick and thin, and smiled widely, earning a tired smile from him in return.

The mysterious twins, Dante and Vergil, chatted with each other as they arrived, deciding to stand where Kraznys was incinerated by Drogon in an act of vicissitude. The twins had doubts about her plan, but they held firm in their trust, even when it seemed that she was willing to make the farcical trade with Kraznys. For their patience and assistance during the battle, she is forever in their debt. The nature of their assistance, though, she will have to investigate further, for they caused as much damage to the enemy as her dragons and Unsullied combined. The sheer speed and strength with which they wielded their swords, and the devastating nature of their magics, is nothing to laugh about. Even if she bought the Unsullied in earnest, she doubted she would stand a chance against the two of them.

Daenerys mounted her horse and began a slow paced ride towards her new army.

"Unsullied!" she spoke up in High Valyrian. Missandei hurriedly walked to Vergil and Dante, to serve as a translator. She contemplated how could two Valyrians not know their mother tongue.

"You were slaves your whole life… Today, you are free!" she continued her speech once everyone was settled in. "Whoever so wishes can leave and nobody will harm him, I give you my word. Will you fight for me? As free men?" she asked the Unsullied arrayed before her.

A silence hung in the air, unbroken by anyone, for a brief time, until the gentle scraping of the sand could be heard near her. Turning towards the source of the sound, she saw a single soldier repeatedly hit the blunt end of his spear on the red sands beneath him. Soon, another joined in, matching his rhythm. Then four more. Within moments, the steady beat of the soldiers evolved into a resounding thud as more and more soldiers joined in. They agreed. Every single one of them.

Once the thunderous rhythm stopped, she noticed an anomaly among her ranks. Someone wearing a travel cloak, much like Vergil's, was stuck between lines of Unsullied near Astapor's main gate, the soldiers crossing their spears around him, restricting his movement. Usually, smoke coming out of a city's spires meant that the city's integrity was called into question and that it was unsafe for travelers such as him. She began to ride towards the man, who remained calm despite being trapped, and merely looked at her as she approached.

"Astapor is not welcoming travelers in this moment." she told the man. "Who are you and what is your purpose here?"

"I came here looking for you, your Grace." the man replied. Ser Jorah, Missandei, Dante and Vergil were coming to her side, having noticed the intruder as well. "My name is Barristan Selmy."

She struggled to remember that name. She turned to ser Jorah, who had a glare fixed on the man. "Do you know this man, ser Jorah?"

"I do." he answered. "As one of the greatest fighters the Realm has known. And as one of Usurper Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard." she resumed looking at the old man with anger in her eyes.

"So, the Usurper sends his Kingsguard after me. I have some of the best warriors in the known world protecting me, along with an army eight thousand strong. Surely, you must know you're outmatched." Daenerys informed the old warrior.

"King Robert is dead." he said, surprising her. If he is dead, why did this man still choose to pursue her? Did someone order the dissolution of the Kingsguard when he died?

"Years ago, I swore to protect your family." he continued. "I failed them… Swore myself to an unworthy king, alongside the Kingslayer and others who stained the white cloak." he got on his knees, before continuing. "I beseech your forgiveness, your Grace. Allow me to join your Queensguard, and I will not fail you again."

Her breath became labored. She was already overcome with emotion at the mere mention of her family. This man, who gave everything away and traveled half the known world to rekindle a promise he made so long ago to them. She will accept him, and grant a new opportunity to right his wrongs.

"Rise, ser Barristan, sworn knight of my Queensguard." She told him, suppressing her true emotions to appear more sonorous. It seems her list of allies was growing by the day.

"Looks like you have competition, Verge. The greatest swordsman in the realm…" Dante ribbed his brother.

"Maybe their realm, Dante. Not ours." Vergil responded. "I don't want to be rid of our new ally so quickly." Ser Barristan had an expression of shock. Perhaps they were too harsh on the old knight, prompting such a response.

"Vergil… Dante…" he looked to them as if he recognized them.

"Do you know these men, ser Barristan?" Daenerys eagerly asked, hoping that the knight held the secret these two kept for themselves.

"No… No, I've only heard their names." he stammered. "It might be just a rumor, but I've heard a story during my travel." ser Barristan said. At this point, even the twins themselves were keen on finding out their dark secret.

"A man came to King's Landing, searching for Dante and Vergil, causing mayhem in the keep, and kidnapping a lord's daughter before fleeing the city." the knight said.

Daenerys and ser Jorah dropped their jaws upon hearing the story. A single man to assault the Red Keep? She would think it impossible, if she hadn't seen Dante and Vergil in battle. Is this a rival of theirs? She shudders to think what he might do to her and her allies if he found them.

"Does this man have a name?" Dante asked.

"He does. His name is…" the man began.

Nero, King's Landing

Stepping through the portal, Nero found himself in a renaissance fair on steroids that seemed to have a horrible sewage issue.

"Where am I?" he asked himself, waving his good hand in front of his nose to drive away the stink.

Looking around, he first noticed a large gate that saw a massive amount of people going in. On each side, two guards stood watch.

He approached them, pushing some of the men in peasant outfits along the way.

"Yo, ser Lancelot. Where am I?" Nero asked the guard, who looked confused, exchanging looks with his partner.

"You talkin' to me?" the guard responded.

"Yeah, what is this place?" Nero asked again.

"You're in King's Landing, boy" the other guard said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"King's Landing? Does that king ever wipe his ass?" Nero joked. "Who is this king and where can I find him?"

"You can find him in the Red Keep, if you're lucky enough to be hosted there." the previously confused guard answered.

"Aye. King Joffrey doesn't hold court as often as his father did…" the other guard added. "What's with the white hair. Are you a Targ?"

"A what?" Nero wondered what the hell is a Targ.

"There aren't any more Targaryens around, you fool." the first guard said. "Ever since the Demon of the Trident killed prince Rhaegar."

"Demon of the Trident?" Nero answered darkly, the word demon setting him on edge.

"Aye, King Joffrey's father. Have you been living in a cave?" the other guard said.

Perhaps Nero had some business here before he set out to find Vergil and Dante. He quickly began going towards the largest structure in plain view – the Red Keep itself.

"Hey, you must pay the entrance fee first!" one of the guards attempted to stop him, possibly because he didn't look as disheveled as the rest of the people going through the gate.

"Piss off." Nero shoved the guard away, proceeding to slip into the mass of the people and enter the luxurious district of Fleabottom.

Once he found himself there, the stench was almost unbearable. How did these people live their lives in a shit mire like this, Nero had no clue. He felt a tug on his jacket which, upon turning around, he saw was the work of a little grimy girl with blonde hair.

"Spare some coins, milord?" the girl asked him.

"Here." Nero said, taking pity on the poor girl, pulling out a few coins and handing them to the little girl who extended her arms to receive the money. "Don't spend it all in one place, alright?"

"Spare some money, my lord?" an old woman asked him as he turned around to continue his trek.

"The gods smile upon the charitable, milord." a short man with an extended hand told him, as he was reaching for his pocket.

"Give alms, kind ser." another one asked. Soon, a crowd formed around him, each demanding his money. Nero couldn't believe the amount of beggars that this city contained.

"Please, I have children to feed!" a woman said amidst the cacophony of requests.

"Spare some coppers for a veteran." a gruff old man practically demanded of him.

"Jeez, what the hell is this place." He lamented, trying to push through the crowd, noticing someone delving in his pockets without his permission. In the crawling mass of beggars, he turned around to see the little girl he gave money to a while back, trying to fish out a few more coins from his pocket without asking.

"Alright, fuck this." Nero pulled out his gun, firing three shots in the sky and scattering the crowd of beggars, who were eagerly trying to get to him a moment ago.

"I'm not the fucking Red Cross." Nero muttered to himself, as he continued through the city.

As he continued, he could notice no sign of modernity, quickly figuring out that this was, indeed, no renaissance fair, but an actual medieval city. No electricity, no internet, no antibiotics…

He entered an area that smelled nicer at least, with colorful houses and a perfume in the air that tried to mask the stink.

"Do you need company, young ser?" a woman, wearing a dress that revealed more than it hid, asked him, as he took a step back.

"No, I just need directions to the Red Keep." Nero asked, nervously.

"It's just up the left, young ser. Are you sure you don't want to stop and relax with me?" the woman asked again.

"Thanks, but I'll pass. Important Red Keep business. Can't wait." Nero realized that he found his way in a medieval version of a red light district. If Kyrie knew where he went, even if it was by accident, he'd be making his own dinner for the rest of the month.

Nero picked up the pace, continuing his walk, and finding himself in front of the portcullis of the Red Keep, where more guards were posted.

"Halt! The King is not receiving visitors...today?" The guard trailed off at the end, as Nero made his advance.

"It's okay, guys." Nero said in an upbeat tone. "Me and the King are good friends. We go way back."

The guards wavered slightly, but held their positions.

"Friend or not, the king is not receiving visitors today." the guard firmly said.

"I see…" Nero said, putting a hand on each of their shoulders, before slamming the guards' heads against each other.

"Tools…" Nero commented as he pushed open the grand doors.

To his surprise he saw that the king was, indeed, holding court. Sadly, it was an invite-only party.

The crowd was gawking at him, while two guards approached rapidly, drawing their swords, trying to apprehend him. Once they both flanked Nero, he simply disarmed them in a single strike with both hands.

"Relax, guys. I'm not here to give fencing lessons. Just want to talk to your king." Nero said as the stunned guards scrambled to pick up their weaponry, which landed impossibly far from them.

"Who are you?" a blonde kid, wearing a crown and sitting in the ugliest throne ever, spoke to Nero. Nero appraised each of the faces arrayed before him on the raised platform near the throne.

Beside the young king was a blonde woman, very similar in looks to the kid himself. His mother, most likely. On the other side was a man whose stature was not unlike the throne itself – tall and ugly, with a serious need for aloe vera. A bodyguard, Nero deduced. A bald man with an almost effeminate way of dressing stood there as well. Fuck knows what he does, Nero thought. Present alongside the bodyguards were several guards in white, compared to the black-gold with a red trim that could be found throughout the city.

The most interesting piece of décor, to Nero, was a young girl, not unlike Kyrie when Nero and her were still part of Fortuna's Order of the Sword. He noted a bruise on her face. She was no warrior with those hands, so the bruise was not earned through sparring, but some form of domestic abuse.

"Name's Nero." he introduced himself. "Are you the king?"

"I am. It is a grave offense to interrupt a king's court, do you know?" the boy said. Nero sensed no demonic heritage on the kid, despite ostensibly being a demon's spawn.

"Well I beg your pardon, your majesty. I came here looking for someone." Nero explained. "Two good-for-nothing deadbeats called Dante and Vergil. This high, white hair, cause trouble wherever they go. Sound familiar?"

"King's Landing is a large city. Rest assured, if these two troublemakers were here, the city watch has already taken care of them" the boy said. Nero tried to stifle a laugh. Yeah, right. Dante would eat those guards up without even noticing they were there.

"Is something funny?" The boy-king asked, offended.

"Not at all, your majesty." Nero raised his hands in surrender. Dante and Vergil weren't here after all.

"You come here, interrupt my court, demand things from me, and laugh openly to my face?!" the petulant king said.

"This is a ploy. One by Targaryen pretenders." the blonde woman said, who was eyeing him the whole time. "Guards, seize him. I'll interrogate the man myself." Nero thought how fragile their egos are here. He eyed the guards approaching him. At that moment, the bald, round man approached the king, hurriedly, and whispered something in his ear

"Hold!" the king said, once the whisperer finished. "This is no way to treat a guest, mother." the blonde lady turned to him in surprise.

"Please, find rooms for this man." the king said to his servants, before turning to Nero. "The hospitality of the Red Keep is yours!" That was a total one eighty turn, thought Nero.

"Look…" began Nero. "Thank you for the offer, but I really gotta hit the road. Those two won't find themselves."

"If that is your wish." the boy said after a moment. "Let us give you some supplies for the road, at least!" Just what did that cue ball say to him?

"Alright. Court is adjourned for today. Begone!" the king said, as the crowd dejectedly started to leave.

He followed after the bald man, waiting for him to be alone for some heart-to-heart.

"You. Who are you? What did you say to the king that changed his mind?" Nero asked chrome dome.

"I am but a servant of the realm, working for the good of the people. Just like now, when I saved you from the queen mother's guards." he was almost as perfumed as that entire lusty street he wandered through.

"Yeah, thanks for that... You saved the guards more than you saved me, though." Nero said, earning a look of interest from him.

"That's quite a claim, my lord." said the man. "These two fellows you're looking for. Who are they?"

"Vergil and Dante." Nero repeated. "One's my boss, the other… The other is my father." Nero said, still not used to that last tidbit of information.

"I see." the man began to walk, and Nero followed him. "I've heard a rumor… On the far east, two powerful men have destroyed the House of the Undying, a warlock's palace in Qarth, before tearing down the inner walls of the city. They match the description of the men you gave in the main hall."

They stood in an alcove, where no soul was around, except for the two of them.

"Where is this Qarth?" Nero asked, rather directly.

"It's in Essos, south of the Red Waste, but the two men have been last spotted in a port near Qarth, along with Daenerys Targaryen and her three dragons. I can provide you with an atlas, if you desire." the baldie said.

"Targaryen? Some guards called me a Targaryen. Would you mind explaining?" Nero said, genuinely surprising Varys.

"The Targaryens were a powerful family of Valyrians that came to Westeros three hundred years ago, uniting the realm with fire and blood. They were dethroned during Robert's rebellion, killing most of the family, and forcing the survivors into exile in Essos." the man explained. "They had white hair just as you do, hence the comparison."

"I see." Nero nodded. The fact that Dante and Vergil teamed up with this Targaryen girl made the relation even more damning.

"Thank you for the information. I didn't catch your name, though?" Nero asked.

The man bowed and said: "Varys, at your service." before leaving Nero alone with his thoughts.

Nero stood there with his thoughts before deciding his next move. "Right. Qarth. Let's go." said Nero before walking back to the main hall, only to be intercepted by the hostile blonde woman and two white guards.

"You…" she said to Nero with a scornful gaze, drawing in a deep breath. "Would you come with me for a walk around the castle?" she asked with a fake smile.

"Sure." Nero agreed. "Queen…?" Nero asked.

"Queen Cersei." she said. Her smile growing more strained. "We haven't the opportunity to be properly acquainted. What is your name, young man?"

"I am Nero." Nero answered simply.

"Family name?" She asked.

"Don't know, to be honest." said Nero. "I don't know my mother and I met my father a few weeks ago."

"I see…" the queen gave him a pitying look. "Who are these men you're looking for?" Cersei inquired.

"One of them is my father. The other is his brother and my boss." Nero explained again, wondering if everyone in this castle would ask him the same three questions over and over again.

"Curious… Why hasn't your 'boss' informed you about your father, if he was related to him?" Cersei asked.

"He only recently found out as well. They weren't on good terms." elaborated Nero.

They arrived in front of a regal door when Cersei turned to him.

"Would you mind leaving your sword with one of my guards, before you enter?" the queen asked Nero.

"Not at all." Nero said, dropping Red Queen into the hands of one of the guards, who was unprepared for its heft. "Try not to hurt yourself with it." he advised the guard before following the queen into the room.

"Sit, please." she gestured to the chair as she poured two goblets of wine. "The king has ordered that you be supplied for your travels. We can sit here in the meantime." she said, pausing shortly to hand Nero his drink and sit down near him. "May I ask you something?"

Nero took a sip of the wine. "Yeah, sure."

"Is your family related to the Targaryens?" there's the final boring question. It's the third time today, jeez.

"Nope." he answered, setting down his goblet on the table.

"Oh. I thought that-" Cersei began, before being interrupted.

"The hair, yeah… I know" Nero finished in her stead. If the queen was offended by Nero's lack of courtesy, she didn't show it.

"Who's the redhead, the one at the court?" Nero interrupted the silence, getting a wide-eyed stare from the queen.

"Why do you ask?" she asks, suspicion in her tone.

"Reminds me of someone I know." he replied.

"She is Sansa Stark, my son's betrothed." the blonde elaborated. "Her father and brother have turned on their rightful king, in an act of betrayal, but she has remained loyal to Joffrey."

"What do you mean by betrayed?" Nero was curious.

"Her brother rallied the North in open rebellion against the crown. My father is currently leading his armies against them. I expect the war to be over by winter." Cersei said cockily, sipping her wine, as if she talked about the weather.

So the girl is caught between love and family. Her loyalty, though, was likely chosen for her, Nero mused, since she was stuck behind enemy lines as a hostage. Considering the fragile ego of the king, it would perfectly explain the bruise she had.

"You must be skilled with your sword, young man." Cersei said, finishing her cup of wine and hanging her overcoat in a wardrobe. "Have you ever considered becoming a knight?"

"No. Why?" Nero replied. He wondered what made her believe that he wanted to stand around in some silly armor for her.

"No? Is the sellsword trade that lucrative?" she asked. Ah, so it's about money. He noticed her openly changing clothes in front of him, slipping into something that embellishes her figure more, before walking back to the chair she previously sat on.

"Or does gold not concern you?" said the queen as she leaned in. "Perhaps, there's something else you'd like?"

"What do you want, lady?" said Nero as he reeled back slightly, prompting the queen to lean back as well.

"I'm saying that… I always have need of skilled fighters in my court." she began, looking around the place, straightening her back. "And should you choose to pledge yourself to me: gold, land, titles,… It could all be yours." So she wants him to work for her.

"If you wanted a job done, you should've just said so, lady." Nero said, sighing. "What do you need, and how much are you paying."

She held out her hand, holding Nero's shoulder, who was surprised by the gesture.

"I will inform you of your duties once you swear an oath, pledging yourself to me." she began, sweetness and arrogance mixing in her voice.

"Doesn't work that way. You either give me a job and pay me for it, or I'm out." said Nero. She looked completely shocked at the rejection. "I already have to find those two losers, so I'm already kinda busy as it stands." He finished his cup of wine.

"Thanks for the drink." Nero nodded as he stepped outside the queen's room, picking up his sword that was leaning on the wall outside and startling the two guards.

"At ease, men." he said to them, who were already unsheathing their weapons when he surprised them by stepping out.

Nero wandered around the castle some more, admiring the scenery briefly through a balcony, before he heard a commotion coming from a hall. Once he went to investigate, he saw the boy king and his wife-to be.

"I saw how you ogled him, you little whore." the king yelled at her. She was kneeling in front of him, her hands raised in a futile attempt to defend herself.

"Please, your Grace" she said, plaintively, her face red from crying. "I wasn't looking at him. I'm promised to you, my one true love! Please, Joffrey!"

The tall man, whose face was set to medium rare, was present as well, looking at the scene as he did at anything – with contempt. To think that the boy needed a bodyguard against a teenage girl.

"Shut your lying mouth!" he said as he struck her across the face, leaving a bloody imprint of his golden ring on her cheek.

"Hey, asshole!" Nero yelled at them, surprising the three people before him. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You!" the boy said. "Came here to steal my betrothed? I saw how you looked at her. It shouldn't surprise me that you want to run away with the Stark bitch, considering you're a Targaryen bastard!"

"The fuck did you say to me, you little shit?!" Nero's fuse had been lit. He began walking towards the boy, the bodyguard trying to intercept his approach, but getting promptly disarmed with a swipe from Red Queen, much to his surprise, before getting tossed aside like a ragdoll.

The boy was absolutely terrified at this point. "W-wait, wait!" he said, before Nero picked him up by the scruff.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Nero quipped. The boy screamed for help before being dropped on his butt and yelling in pain. "You are no son of a Demon, that's for sure." disappointment laced the words Nero spoke to Joffrey's fallen form.

The clatter of armor started to pick up in volume around them, as the guards heard Joffrey's wails and rushed to his aid.

"Shit." Nero commented on the mess he made. Not wanting the situation to be for nothing, he extended his robotic arm to the girl. "Do you wanna ditch being a hostage here? Come."

The girl, who was looking at him almost as fearfully as she looked to Joffrey, took several seconds before reaching her decision. She accepted, grabbing onto his arm.

"On your feet, atta girl." he said to her, helping her get back up. "Now... Let's get the hell out of here."

"Where are you taking me?" the redhead asked, as they began their run across the Red Keep.

"First, out of this castle." said Nero. "After that… to your brother."

"We'll never make it out, there are too many guards in the city. They won't let me go." her initial optimism faltered, listing reasons why they were bound to fail.

"Those clowns got nothing on me, don't you worry. Sit tight, follow my lead and enjoy the show." said Nero with a smile, before a squad of guards appeared in front of them.

"You, Targaryen bastard. Let the lady go!" one said to Nero. Nero smiled at them before dashing to their vicinity, leg sweeping two of them. He took off the helmet of one who reeled back at his sudden appearance, then bashed him unconscious with it, with a resounding gong . A guard tried to stab Nero in the gut, but was caught in the act, disarmed, and subsequently tossed at the last standing guard, knocking them both unconscious as they hit the ground.

"Should've said please." Nero dusted himself off. He didn't want to kill these poor saps just because they tried doing their duty to their king, no matter how much of a shitbag that little king might be.

Two more guards appeared. "Stop! In the name of king Joffrey I-" was all one managed to say, before getting dropkicked by Nero.

"Special delivery!" he quipped as he got back up. The other guard was already trying to cut him down with a downward strike, but Nero simply sidestepped the man and pushed him back, making him trip on his fallen companion.

They continued running, entering the main hall, which was completely flooded with guards. The portcullis was closed, with the bar lowered.

"You're outnumbered. Give up, bastard." yelled one of the white-clad guards as their point of entry to the main hall was also being sealed off by an arriving unit of guards.

"Relying on numbers won't do you any good." Nero's cocky attitude didn't fade in the slightest, even when faced with a small army ready to charge him.

"Surrender now, and you might be granted the king's mercy." the guard continued, as they were cornered to the dais where the throne resided.

"I'll give you a king's mercy." Nero said darkly, pushing the redhead who followed him away slightly.

Nero proceeded to lift up the Iron Throne from its podium, much to the consternation of the platoon around him, which started to advance in the opposite direction.

"Hail to the king, baby!" he yelled as he spun the Iron throne around him, throwing it at the Red Keep's portcullis, shattering the great doors completely.

The guards were slack-jawed at the scene,some of them running from the path of the metal monstrosity hurling through the air, some choosing to hit the deck. Nero leapt above their ranks, carrying the girl in his hands, landing at the splintered remains of the gate and running away.

"Tally-ho, blockheads!" Nero saluted the scattered ranks of guards as he fled.

"After him!" one guard yelled, and many ran after Nero, though a sizable amount elected to give up the chase, after the sheer display of strength they've witnessed.

Once Nero was out of the castle, evading the guards would've been a piece of cake in the winding streets of King's Landing. Unfortunately, carrying a girl as if she were a bag of groceries made him suspicious, to say nothing of the yelps and screams she made every time Nero so much as sneezed. Seeing no other way to lose the guards, he decided to take a more daring route.

"Can you keep a secret?" he asked the girl he carried, who was already worried what other supernatural trick he had up his sleeves, before nodding worriedly.

"Alright, try not to scream too much." he said, as he unleashed his Devil Trigger, growing out a pair of spectral wings and getting a more monstrous appearance, taking to the air above King's Landing and flying away. The girl already failed at the one task he gave her, screaming as if she was being vivisected.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked her, his sarcasm made more menacing by the demonic growl his voice became. She stopped screaming, looking around her, before fainting in his hands.

"Finally... She could put an opera to shame." Nero joked to himself as he flew across the walls of the city and into a forest, where he landed. He laid the girl to rest on the grass, returning to his human form and stretching a little after a job well done.

He called Nico to pick him up, only to realize that there was no reception where he was.

"Damn. Right. Another world…" Nero sighed, knowing this side-gig might last a while longer than he expected. Putting the phone back in his pocket, he saw the red-haired girl's consciousness return to her, as she scrambled to get up.

"Slept well?" He asked. She began crawling backwards upon noticing him.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?"she asked, her voice shaking.

"Relax. Why does everyone think I want something with them? Like I said, I'll take you to your brother and be on my merry way. Alright?" Nero informed her. She nodded nervously.

"Good." Nero said, pausing to take in his surroundings. He remembered what the queen said to him – the North is in open rebellion. He took out his phone, yet again, using it to find which way is north. The girl had a curious look about her, as she tried to figure out what Nero was doing.

"What is that?" she asked.

"A smartphone." he said, as he returned it to his pocket. "North's over there. Let's go." he began to walk.

"Wait!" she said, making Nero stop and turn around. "That's not the kingsroad." she said, slightly regretting that she questioned the man who threw the Iron Throne like it was a bag of potatoes.

"Is the king's road a faster way to the North?" he asked.

"My mother and brother are probably not back home in Winterfell, but they might be somewhere near the kingsroad, like Harrenhall or Moat Cailin."

"What is it with this place and kings. King's landing, king's road,…" Nero said, making the girl chuckle.

"I don't know, ser. It is rather silly, when you point it out." the redhead said.

"What's your name?" Nero asked her.

"Sansa. Sansa Stark, my lord." Sansa said.

"I'm not your lord, Sansa. No need for titles. You can call me Nero." he said.

"I'm pleased to meet your acquaintance, s-Nero." Sansa said dutifully.

"What did I just say? You're already talking to me like I'm the Queen of England." Nero joked, earning a giggle from Sansa.

"Sorry, Nero." apologized Sansa.

"Why did you save me, Nero?" she asked him. "You didn't even know my name."

"Why not? Was I supposed to watch as his royal majesty beat you up?" asked Nero.

"Everyone else did. I wouldn't be surprised." Sansa said.

"I'm not like everyone else." Nero said. "Plus, you remind me of someone I know."

"A friend? Or a relative? Or your beloved?" she asked in quick succession.

"All three, kind of…" he said, earning a shocked look from her. "Wait no! Hang on, let me explain."

"Targaryens were known for marrying within their family…" she trailed off. Nero was wondering when the 'Targaryen' question would come, and there it was, in the worst way possible. Disgusting.

"Nope. Not a Targ." Nero said. "My wife, Kyrie. Her family took me in when I was a baby and took care of me. We were very close friends, practically grew up like brother and sister. I guess our friendship turned into something more." explained Nero.

"I see…" she said, as she took it all in. "Why do you wear armor on only one of your hands?"

"Oh, this? This is my hand." Nero said. "It's a long story." he chuckled, nervously, not wanting to have a talk about demons, fathers and robot arms with a random girl just yet.

"It is? The kingsroad is long as well." she said.

"Well, in that case…" he said, as he began to talk about the day his life changed when he first met his father.

Tyrion Lannister, Red Keep, King's Landing.

"Score for me!" Bronn said, cackling at Tyrion as he took the gold coins from the center of the table, to place them near his own pile. "You might want to quit while you still have your pocket money, little lord. This doesn't count as my payment, you know?"

"Luck is a fickle mistress." Tyrion commented. "I hope you haven't grown too attached to your stacks of coins."

As he was about to begin the next round, a furious creature burst through the doors and stared at him with all the fury of the seven hells. It was his sister, of course.

"Do you mind, dear sister, we're planning for the siege?" Tyrion told her, hoping it would be enough. It never was.

"Planning?" she said in exasperation. "For a siege?!" she uttered a grotesque laugh with no trace of mirth behind it.

"Our king! My son! Was attacked!" Cersei was practically screaming, attacking his eardrums, as if they were the ones who double teamed Joffrey. "The palace was ransacked! The throne itself destroyed!" Say what now?

"Our guards made fools of. And, best of all…" she laughed, as if the punchline of the century was about to be told. "The man who did this, kidnapped Sansa Stark… While you two were gambling... and talking... about whores!" she screamed at them, making them both recoil from the volume.

Tyrion and Bronn couldn't believe what they were hearing. An army would be needed to destroy the Iron Throne itself, piss on the gold cloaks and Kingsguard, and whisk away lady Sansa; not a single man. Tyrion noted the use of the word 'kidnapped' as if they themselves weren't holding the poor girl hostage.

"Are you sure it wasn't a bad dream?" Tyrion asked.

"Go to the throne room yourself, and see." Cersei snarled.

"How many were killed by this man?"

"None…" Cersei chuckled grimly. "Not yet at least. Once the guards that failed to apprehend this Targaryen or Blackfyre impersonator are made known, I will personally cut off their heads!"

"Slow down, sister. How did he manage to not kill anyone. Also, what did you say about him being a Blackfyre or Targaryen?"

"He came to court this noon, strutting around like a peacock, making a fool out of Joffrey" she said, as if the boy wasn't perfectly capable of doing that himself. "He was looking for someone named Virgin and Donto." Cersei said, slowing down for the next part. "I tried persuading him to stay and help us defend the city, but he declined. Even when I offered him a lordship. I also tried using my charms on him, which seemed only to irritate him. Perhaps he is a sword swallower like Renly."

The story grew less and less believable, but Cersei wouldn't just outright make up something like this. She had a habit of prettying up the truth, but not to this extent, and the story was not pretty at all.

"So some white-haired cunt came by, ransacked the keep and took the Stark girl?" Bronn repeated the story in it's distilled form, purified of Cersei's hysteria. "Is he still here?"

Cersei sighed. "The guards say he flew away."

Bronn chuckled when he heard that, and even Tyrion had trouble containing his laughter. It's a fairytale come to life. The laughter withered under Cersei's deadly gaze.

"I say fuck him." Bronn said, surprising the blonde siblings. "He's not here anymore, but Stannis will be with an entire army. If what you said is true, our men wouldn't be able to stop him if he came back anyways. We can deal with Stannis, though."

"Bronn is right. I'll go see the damage the man caused and talk to Joffrey. Where was the Hound when this all happened?" Tyrion asked.

"He was knocked unconscious by the man. He is resting in the Maester's ward. Joffrey has had a bad day behind him. Do not trouble him further." Cersei said to Tyrion.

"Right. I'll talk to the Hound then. Come, Bronn. This sounds more exciting than gambling."

"Not to me…" Bronn said, as he packed his winnings in his pouch, trailing behind Tyrion.

Dante, Qarth

It was nice to know his trust in Daenerys wasn't misplaced. If nothing, it saved him a lifetime of Vergil telling him "I told you so." The battle would've been the highlight of the day, hadn't the old knight arrived and told the tale from the wild west. Nero has arrived to this world as well.

Daenerys was shocked to hear that the symbol of her family's rule, the Iron Throne itself, was used by Nero as a battering ram; happy when she heard Robert's heir got brutalized and perplexed when she heard he captured a lord's daughter, as were Dante and Vergil.

"The kid has a wife. What's he doing with some random medieval ladies?" asked Dante.

"There's but one way to find out. I want to know why he came here in the first place." Vergil said.

"King's Landing it is." Dante agreed.

Daenerys, upon overhearing the conversation, rushed to them. "You're leaving? Both of you?" she asked.

"You got your army, you got your dragons…" Dante said.

"And we have unfinished business." Vergil added.

"What about my throne?" Daenerys pleaded.

"We'll ask for Nero to bring it to you, if he still has it." Vergil quipped.

"You can do just fine without us. You can keep the boats." Dante said, as he took up his Devil Trigger form. "Good luck, Daenerys. Adios."

Vergil and himself took flight, going west, flying over Slaver's Bay. The few cities that lay scattered across it's coastline were easily spotted, with their pyramids reaching high into the sky, serving to break up the monotony of sea and sand that passed beneath them. Vergil moved closer to Dante.

"I have something to do here. You go look for Nero, I'll find you later." Vergil said, flying nearby.

"Alright, bro. Have fun." Dante responded as Vergil took a turn left, splitting from Dante.

Vergil, Meereen

Vergil landed on the gates of Meereen in a flash of blue light. The city was the largest of the slaver cities in the area, much larger than both Astapor and Yunkai, which Daenerys said she would go after next. Much too large, even for her eight thousand Unsullied, to take and hold. He would be lying to himself if he said he was doing it for her, though, that was just an added bonus. In reality, the battle in Astapor was merely a warm up for him. He was now itching for a real challenge.

"I am Vergil, son of Sparda. Your slavery disgusts me. Prepare to die!" He introduced himself like a true gentleman should, before slashing a row of soldiers that stared at him in a wide sweep, taking the entire populace by surprise. The city guard started to respond to the first strike Vergil exacted upon the city.

"Let's see what you got." he muttered with a hint of a smile. Vergil was equipped with his own set of sparring weapons, not unlike Dante's Balrog – the Beowulf. While he punched and kicked the soldiers who rushed in the flurry of sweeping blows, Vergil fondly remembered how he swooped in and snatched the Beowulf, just as Dante was about to claim it. Good times. One by one, they ran into his strikes, their crude armor providing no shelter against Vergil's onslaught.

"Lights out!" he called out as he landed a left jab on a soldier, the sheer force of the impact knocking the helpless swordsman back into his companions, making them fall like a line of dominoes.

Amidst the calamitous noise of screams and shouts that erupted, he heard a distinctive whistle from a gatehouse on his left. He quickly launched his mirage blades in that direction, intercepting the incoming projectiles and skewering the men who targeted him.

"Too easy." he said, having cleared this segment of the city, leaping over a gate to the next one. He spotted soldiers standing, arranged in a formation, preparing to march inside the part he just devoid of life.

"Pathetic…" he said to himself. The formation is good for parades, not capturing a devil like himself.

He leapt into action, summoning his spectral Doppelganger. The two flanked the unit, whose men were paying attention to their commander, waiting for him to issue commands. They cleaved through the soldiers in seconds, Vergil's battle potential effectively doubled by the presence of his ghostly twin.

An armory laid near the decimated unit, which Vergil had no intention of leaving unharmed. Remembering what he heard Nero do, he marched to an anvil that he spotted nearby, picking it up with no more effort than a mortal would exert when picking up a tennis ball, and threw it at the main door of the armory. In the few impressive seconds that it spent flying through the air, it managed to burst through the main door, eliminate multiple soldiers inside the armory, and burst out the back, firmly embedding itself in the towering city wall behind.

"Interesting…" said Vergil. Perhaps he could learn a few things from Nero, he mused, while he picked off the remaining survivors in the armory he just demolished.

Advancing further left, he realized the ended up on the main promenade of the city, at the end of which was the Great Pyramid of Meereen. A mass of soldiers advanced quickly on his position. "The Plaza of Purification…" Vergil recalled the name. "Time to contaminate it. Here goes!" he charged at the soldiers, harnessing the energy of the two blades in his hand, the Force Edge and the Yamato, drilling through the platoon like a hot knife through butter, in a vortex of cobalt energy.

Once his infernal advance halted, he found that many of the soldiers still remained alive. Some decided to toss their steel on the ground and run for their lives, others thought they could take Vergil on. Brave, but foolish.

He immediately dealt with a portion of the soldiers advancing on him, and some that started fleeing, by casting down a rain of spectral blades that served as the final nails in their coffins, quite literally pinning them to the ground. He grabbed the two soldiers nearest to him, holding one in each hand, extending his arms to his sides. The soldiers absorbed a volley of arrows intended for Vergil, before he slammed the pair of pincushioned men together on a spearman that charged at him, sandwiching the three together.

He blinked to the backline of an advancing group, before cutting them down in a flurry of slashes, quickly dashing back to his original location. The archers that held their aim at him, were trying to match his quick movements, but failed, having their arrows land on the place he first blinked to, unwittingly shooting a portion of their own infantry. As the archers prepared their next volley, they looked back at the promenade, suddenly bereft of Vergil's presence.

"Here I am." Vergil said to the archers he teleported to, before throwing his katana at them, which seemed to have a mind of it's own and a thirst for blood to match Vergil's, flying through the air harvesting a bloody bounty.

Vergil extended the sheath of his sword in front of him, which caught the katana as it flew back to its master. He dropped down from the wall, scanning the side of the city he landed in for possible targets. He noticed an internment camp, housing many prisoners behind bars, who were to be molded into obedient slaves. The people contained within the cells were frantically reaching out to their fleeing captors, begging to be set free to escape whatever force is invading the city. Vergil unleashed the katana's strength from a distance on the fleeing officers, before blinking in front of the prisoners.

The prisoners, previously trying to squeeze themselves through the iron bars, now fled to the back of their cells, tripping over each other as they regarded the blue-coated man in horror. Vergil charged up his phantasmal blades, aiming them at the cells and unleashing them on the locks that kept the prisoners there. To say that the prisoners were in disbelief would be an understatement. Vergil motioned for them to get out in one brief motion of his head, which the prisoners followed without question. While he watched the mass of freed slaves leave, Vergil didn't notice the mass of hot oil that was being poured down upon him from above. The oil didn't do any damage whatsoever to Vergil. It takes more than heat to hurt someone who was born in flames, after all. But, his hair was rendered a glued mess from the downpour, and his coat and undercoat were stained as well.

"Now, it's personal!" Vergil said in a metallic growl, as he transformed into his demonic form. He began punching the very walls from which the fluid rained down upon him, tearing it down, and collapsing two gatehouses that sprung up from it. A great many soldiers met their end in the demolition, but there were a few that tried to crawl out, whom Vergil stomped out as they emerged from the wreckage.

Once the wall crashed down, one could see a barracks on one side and a cavalry unit on another, beginning to charge at the devil with lances aloft. Summoning his doppelganger again, Vergil cut down the riders in a few swift motions, his final swipe being done in a flourishing spin, which set forth a radial wave of azure energy. The doppelganger dutifully mimicked Vergil's attacks and the resulting waves crossed with each other in flight arriving at the base of a watchtower, cleanly cutting it down and sending the soldiers trapped inside falling to their graves.

He took flight, seeing that the first half of the city was already cleared in no more than twenty minutes. The troops were retreating back to the Great Pyramid and the masters' houses, to defend what little they had left, instead of meeting Vergil on the open field.

"First thing's first." Vergil said to himself, as he nose dived down on the base of the Great Pyramid. He summoned Force Edge in his hand, channeling both it and his katana into a drilling vortex of energy. His unstoppable surge led him through the winding halls of the pyramid as he ascended it, not even noticing the swathes of guards he cut through on his way, along with tens of Unsullied that were unlucky enough to be purchased prior to Daenerys' takeover of Astapor. He arrived at the top of the pyramid, where the Great Masters were seated, lounging and watching the battle unfold from a bronze-age penthouse, surely thinking that the battle will be long over before it managed to reach them.

Everyone stood still watching Vergil sheathe his blade as he emerged from the luxurious door that was now tunneled through. The masters stood there in shock, while the servants stood there out of duty, knowing that they'd face far worse than a swordsman, should they abandon their lords.

The master began to yell in his guttural language as several more Unsullied appeared to guard their master, demonstrating what was most vaunted about them – blind obedience. A slash from his katana cut through their spears, shields and armor in with ease.

"This shall be your grave." Vergil informed the stunned masters.

"Wait!" one of them said. "Wait, please, I'll give you anything!" he pleaded pathetically.

"You have nothing to offer me, scum." he said.

"I'll give you gold, slaves, power!" the master tried to negotiate again.

"Power?" Vergil laughed. They know nothing of true power. "This. Is. Power…!" Vergil charged a powerful strike with his fist, electrifying the air around him as the servants finally gathered their wits and courage, fleeing the scene.

He slammed the ground, annihilating the top of the pyramid in one explosive blow. The great bronze statue that once decorated the pyramid's apex was sent flying from the blast, landing on top of another, lesser pyramid next to this one, completely falling through the imposing structure.

"On to the next one." Vergil said as he flew to his next target, but as he soared from the top of the pyramid, scanning the horizon, he could notice multiple ships departing from the port, hoping to escape justice to another den of slavery.

"Not on my watch." Vergil growled, before changing course and descending on the ship. He faced a conundrum, though. The ship was moved by the works of slaves who rowed tirelessly to flee the city, sailing into the moonlit sea beyond. Sinking the ship would mean their deaths, to say nothing of the servants who were boarded to help with the needs of their fleeing masters. This task shall require precision.

"None can escape my judgment!" he taunted the masters.

"Please, spare us!" one slave said as Vergil smiled.

He cut down the guards that started surrounding him in two motions of his wrist, choosing to impale the distant masters on his mirage blades, before the second part of his plan took place.

Vergil grabbed the frightened slave, carrying him under the deck as he struggled to escape his grip. There was no time for courtesy. Once they descended to where the slaves were frantically rowing, he held the man in front of himself, as if presenting a new toy to the rowers who gawked at Vergil.

"Tell them to return us to the city. Now!" he ordered the man, who hopefully translated what he said through his hysteria. The translation seemed to have gotten across as the slaves halted their rowing, before resuming in another direction.

Vergil dropped the man there, ejecting from the ship on to the next one where the process was repeated. Once all the ships began reversing their voyage, he turned back to his original targets.

One by one, the pyramids and great houses of the masters fell to Vergil's renewed assault. By the time the dawn broke, there was no master alive to tell the tale.

Finishing the last stronghold, Vergil stood from it's peak to admire his handiwork. The city's defenses were shattered, except for the outer walls. Vergil didn't need to demolish them, as he destroyed the city from the inside, while the walls made sure the slavers were trapped in there with him. Only a scant few watchtowers remained intact throughout the city, most destroyed after their inhabitants provoked the blue swordsman. The pyramids that towered over the cityscape were now truncated, the decorative statues on them now scattered on the ground. The spacious plaza was littered with fallen soldiers, the marble ground stained with blood. The only thing spared from the fighting were, ironically, the fighting pits themselves, having been largely abandoned by the time Vergil graced the city with his presence. Many of the commoners that had a sleepless night wandered across the city wondering how did their ancient city change so much overnight. Those that were sobering up to a new Meereen, gathered in a square near the pyramid, despite the bloody mess that littered it, hoping to find the answers.

"Hmph." Vergil huffed, his satisfaction only known to himself. He caught another slave in charge of diplomacy and translation, and carried the man with him, as he slid down the slope of the pyramid, dropping in front of the startled mass of people.

He set the frightened translator on the ground, who started informing him of what the people said.

"They ask what is to be their fate, master… Will you kill us as well, or put us back in chains?" the translator said with terror in his eyes.

"I'm not your master. I've killed your masters." Vergil informed them. "You are free men and women now. Do as you will." he finished, before transforming into his demonic form.

"Should you revert to slavery, I'll come visit again." he growled before taking flight.

As he soared through the air yet again, he drew a book titled 'Atlas of Essos' that he picked up during his stay in Qarkash. He turned to the page depicting Meereen and crossed it out. His work in Essos had only just begun.

Nero, Riverrun

As Nero landed once more with the girl he escorted, he saw another fancy castle practically on top of a river. Nero hoped this was the right place.

"That's Riverrun!" Sansa exclaimed. "I've been here with my mother!"

"Almost there, then. Let's walk." said Nero. He flied when he could, greatly shortening the trip, but only in short bursts. The girl grew comfortable with the flights, screaming for her life for only five more trips after the initial one. She improved after that, much to the relief of Nero's ears.

"There, the silver trout. The sigil of my mother's family." Sansa informed him.

"Everyone here has some kind of seafood as their symbol." Nero commented.

"Trouts live in the river." Sansa pointed out.

"Cool." Nero dismissed the information. He wasn't planning on running an aquarium anyways. Sansa huffed at that.

During their travels, Sansa also explained a bit more about the world he found himself in. They were in Westeros, a land with seven kingdoms, and one king to rule them all. Apparently, her father uncovered that the current king truly wasn't the son of the Demon he was told about, but rather, the Queen and her brother got it on behind his back, making three children with no right to the throne. This made the Queen's advances that much more disgusting in Nero's eyes.

Now, Sansa's brother has sworn to avenge his dead father, who was executed in front of her eyes, and three other feudal lords have rebelled when they heard the kid wasn't the previous king's son, hoping to claim the throne. A shitstorm, put simply.

She also told him about the mysterious people he kept being compared to - the Targaryens. They made the blonde boy-king look tame in comparison. Apparently, brother-sister relations were normal in their eyes, leading to them being insane bastards. Previously, they commanded dragons that helped the denizens of Westeros realize something – that Targaryen rule was better than being dragon chow. Thankfully, they have lost their dragons. Not thankfully, they also lost their sanity. The last Targaryen king burned everyone he didn't like, including the girl's grandfather. The king's son kidnapped the girl's aunt. Sansa's family just had no luck with kings, it seems.

"Halt, you're approaching Riverrun." a guard said. "What business do you have here? King Robb is not accepting visitors."

"Special delivery for Robb Stark." Nero said. "Tell him that his sister is here."

"It's true. Robb will recognize me." Sansa said, lowering her travel hood. "I am Sansa Stark. With me is the man who helped me escape."

"Lady Sansa…" another guard spoke up. "I remember you since the day you first came here all those years ago. Your mother will be delighted to see you. Follow us."

They were escorted inside the water-flanked castle, through the mossy stone walls. It was no Red Keep, but it had it's charm... as a fishing resort. Arriving at a door, a guard spoke to Nero.

"We ask you to please surrender your weapons, when entering this room, for the safety of-" The guard didn't finish when Nero stabbed the sword into the stone floor, having been through the annoying process before.

"Don't try and pull it out, king Arthur." Nero quipped to the guard with a smile. "I'm no Lady of the Lake."

The stunned guard simply opened the door to the meeting room without saying a word, maintaining as much distance between the devil hunter and himself as he physically could.

They were interrupting some wartime planning, Nero assumed, by the way they huddled over a map on the desk. When they turned to see the new arrivals, Sansa was already rushing towards her mother, embracing her in a hug.

"Sansa...? Sansa!" her mother cried out as they held onto each other.

"Sansa! You've escaped!" a man said, wearing a bronze crown with black iron spikes. This must be her brother, Nero thought. The rebel king rushed to embrace his sister. "We heard Stannis tried to lay siege to King's Landing. Is that how you escaped? There were also rumors of…"

"Mother, Robb, I thought I'd never see you again." the teary-eyed Sansa said.

"I'm glad to see your safe return, lady Sansa." another man, not too dissimilar from Sansa's mother joined the conversation. "Rest assured, we will seek justice for your captivity. Tywin has fled Harrenhal and retreated back to King's Landing."

"Aye, fled Harrenhal and routed Stannis, from what I hear." a man in black armor, with a fish stamped on it, who was watching the emotional reunion from a distance said. "I'm glad at least Sansa is free from those blonde cunts."

"Speaking of cunts." the man continued as he approached to face Nero. "Who is this man?"

"Mother, Robb, uncles,…" Sansa began, once she got over the initial excitement of seeing her family again. "This is the man who helped me escape the Red Keep, saving me from the Lannisters, throwing the Iron Throne across the throne room." Sansa smiled as she recounted the story. "His name is Nero."

Nero, for the most part, was leaning on the wall near the entrance of the room, watching the assembled Starks or Tullys with a smile on his face.

"Hi. Pleasure to meet ya." Nero said and gave a wave to the people present.

"By the Gods... That story is true?" one of her uncles, the less hostile one, said. "We scarcely believed when first we heard it… Can you truly turn into a dragon?" the man asked.

"Only on Thursdays." Nero said, confusing the rest, who hopefully understood it as a joke.

"Dragon or not, you have done me a great favor." Sansa's brother, Robb, said. "Anything you wish, a castle, a land, perhaps even a marriage,…"

"No more marriage arrangements, nephew." the curious uncle said in a groan. "We have yet to think up of an arrangement to appease old Walder's pride for eschewing your promise, before we can marry this young lad."

"Perhaps this fine man can use the Iron Throne to knock some sense into you, Edmure." the black-armored older man said to Edmure. "You are to marry one of his daughters. There's your arrangement!"

"It's fine, really. I don't need a castle and I'm already married." Nero said.

Robb walked back to another set of doors, before speaking up. "I won't be having it." he said, rummaging for something, before walking back with a small chest full of golden coins, handing them to Nero.

"They say the Lannisters always pay their debts, but let it be known that we Starks can return a favor as well. There should be around two and a half thousand gold coins there. Two thousand for bringing my sister back to me, and five hundred for vandalizing the Iron Throne." Nero was appraising his reward, as a smile crept across his face, while Robb spoke. "It should afford you a full set of armor, and not just a single gauntlet." Robb joked at the expense of Nero's metal arm.

"Finally, some good fuckin' money..." Nero muttered to himself, before expressing his thanks. "Thank you, Robb."

Nero usually earned just enough money to keep his business and his house out of the red by slaying demons. To think he earned this much just by escorting a girl out of a medieval castle… Nero now understood why Dante and Vergil came here.

"Am I worth only two thousand gold to you, Robb Stark?!" Sansa chided Robb with a smile she struggled to keep hidden.

"No gold coin, nor gleaming sapphire is worth even a fraction of what you mean to me, dear lady Sansa." Robb said in a mocking outburst of drama.

"As it should!" Sansa huffed. "Lest I leave you to Arya's mercy!" she japed, before her smile waned.

"What happened to Arya, truly?" Sansa's mother asked. Arya must be Sansa's annoying little sister, as she described her.

"She ran away somehow after Father was arrested, and the Lannisters couldn't find her.. I can only hope she is out there, somewhere, finding her way back home." Sansa said in a glum tone. "How are Bran and Rickon doing? I'm sure they miss you two a lot." She asked with a little smile.

It's as if someone poured freezing water down the backs of Robb and his mother, with how quickly they straightened up with a wide-eyed look, before turning to each other, having an unspoken conversation.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Sansa worriedly asked.

"Bran and Rickon…" her mother began, before a lump caught in their throat.

"Bran and Rickon have been killed. Theon Greyjoy killed them…" Robb said through his teeth. "I sent him to parlay with his father, only for him to show up with his ironborn scum, and capture Winterfell for himself."

Nero narrowed his eyes upon hearing the story, but largely remaining nonplussed. Considering the luck they've had so far, it's a wonder a meteor hadn't fallen on them yet.

"How could he...? He was like a brother to us! How could he kill them?!" Sansa was distraught by the news.

"Lord Bolton assures me that his bastard will take back what is ours, and put Theon to the sword." Robb said. Nero was weirded out by the relatively casual use of the word 'bastard'. Sansa remained downcast, despite the promise of justice.

A minute of silence stayed in the room until Robb broke it.

"We will be attending a wedding in the Twins in the meantime." said Robb.

"Really? Who's getting married?" the announcement broke Sansa out of her brooding.

"I am." Robb said. "I will have you meet my wife later, should you wish. Uncle Edmure is getting married as well." Edmure wanted to raise his voice in protest.

"It was about bloody time, as well." the older man said, putting an arm over the hopeless bachelor's shoulder, before he could speak up.

"I would be honored to meet your lady wife-to-be." Sansa said, trying to keep her sadness sealed off inside her.

"Nero." Robb turned to Nero, who was awkwardly standing on the outskirts of the conversation. "You should come with us to the Twins."

"Me?" Nero was surprised by the invitation. "Thank you, but I really have to get going…"

"Nonsense. Please, I would like for you to be there as well and share a drink with us. The man who saved my sister." Robb continued. "The Twins aren't far from here. You can return to your journey once it's done."

Nero considered the offer. A few nights of rest might do him some good, before he resumed his search, and the twins he is looking for can handle themselves in this world.

"Alright, what the hell. I'm coming as well." Nero declared, eliciting smiles from Sansa and Robb.

"Wonderful." Robb said. "We will be leaving today. In the meantime, the hospitality of Riverrun is yours." Robb said to Nero as he escorted Sansa out to meet his future wife. Nero tried to follow them outside of the room as well, before he was stopped by someone calling his name.

"Nero." the mother said as she got out of her chair to approach Nero. She had a copper tone of hair as well, only a few tones darker than Sansa. Her age wasn't obvious at first sight either.

"Allow me to thank you, as a mother, for returning my daughter safely to me." She said as she stood in front of Nero. "We've lost Ned, the boys, and we thought Arya and Sansa lost to us as well..."

The woman spent some time looking wistfully at her hands, before looking back up at Nero. "I am Catelyn Stark, this is my brother, ser Edmure Tully, and my uncle, ser Brynden Tully."

"You can call me Blackfish. Everyone does, at this point." the grumpy uncle – Brynden – said to Nero.

"May I ask you a few questions before we leave?" Catelyn asked Nero.

"Sure." Nero nodded, as he was mentally preparing for the three questions everyone kept asking him.

"Are you part Targaryen? They say you turned into a dragon and…" Catelyn trailed off as she noticed Nero shaking his head in disagreement.

"No. I'm not." answered Nero.

"What brought you to the Red Keep?" Blackfish asked, with a hint of suspicion in his voice. "Surely you didn't come to the Red Keep just to save lady Sansa."

"I came looking for two guys named Dante and Vergil." Nero said. "Last I heard they were in some port in the east."

"We've heard of them. They say Daenerys Targaryen sacked the city of Astapor with her three dragons and the help of those two men. She also obtained an army of eight thousand Unsullied." Catelyn said. Nero was beginning to regret accepting the wedding invitation. Something he non-verbally expressed by rubbing the back of his head.

"An army of slaves." Brynden added. "She will never find allies here if she deals in slavery."

"What if she freed them?" asked Edmure. "She wouldn't sack the city if she merely came to trade in it."

"She's a Targaryen. Daughter of the Mad King himself." Brynden said, raising his voice. "Who knows what happens in that crazy head of hers. For all we know, she stole the Unsullied and torched the city just because she could. Now, why would these men you're looking for ally with her?"

"Beats me. I'm trying to figure out that part myself." Nero answered.

"How do you three command such power is what I wonder?" Edmure asked. "Are you perhaps a cabal of sorcerers?"

"No…" Nero stated as he tried to find a way to avoid telling them the truth. "Truth is…"

"Truth is, We are part-demon." Nero spilled the beans. "Vergil is my father, and Dante his brother. They are both half-devil."

The trio of Tullys stared at him with mouths agape, taking on the appearance of their house sigil, before the Blackfish burst out in a hoarse laughter.

"Yeah, right. And I'm part dragon!" the Blackfish said through his laughter, irritating Nero. "Tell me, great and powerful demon, which of the Seven Hells do ye hail from?"

"Brynden!" Catelyn said, turning to her uncle in shock, before talking to Nero again. "I'm so sorry for my Uncle's outburst…"

"No, it's okay." Nero said as cyan energy formed around his shoulders, extending outward. "Maybe he just needs a little demonstration." Nero's azure wings seemed to make a gesture of cracking their knuckles. "You said something about being part dragon?"

"By the Gods…" Edmure said. He was slowly backing away, in a half-crouched position, his blue eyes not looking away as Nero's wings formed.

"Can you truly be…" Catelyn was frozen in place beside Nero as she began to mutter prayers.

"What in the seven hells…" the Blackfish remained unmoving in the chair he previously ensconced himself in, except for the head tilting up as Nero's wings began towering above them.

"It's alright. I'm not here to hurt anyone, okay?" Nero said as he retracted his wings, before they shimmered away into non-existence. "I use my powers to banish demons back to the hell they crawled out of. Same goes for Dante and Vergil. We are devil hunters by trade."

"Are there devils in this world?" Catelyn asked with a tremble in her voice. "Is that why you came?"

"Fortunately, no. I'm just here to help those two find their way back home." Nero said with a soothing smile. "The longer we're all here, the less demon ass gets kicked back on Earth."

"Earth? Is that where you come from?" Blackfish asked, narrowing his gaze. "Who names their land 'Earth'?"

"Who the hell names their western continent 'Westeros'?" Nero rebutted. The old knight just shrugged in concession.

"Either way, now you know why I'm here. I promised to attend this wedding, but after that, I'm hitting the road." Nero elaborated.

"We understand. We, again, thank you for going out of your way to rescue Sansa," Catelyn told Nero. "If there's any way we could aid you in your quest…"

"Don't sweat it. You look like you have your hands full already." Nero said.

"As do you. Now, let's go. We have a wedding to prepare for." Blackfish stood up, motioning everyone to get going. "That means you too, Edmure. You don't wanna be late for your own wedding." he chuckled as they exited the room.

Tywin Lannister, King's Landing

With his fortuitous arrival at head of the combined Lannister and Tyrell armies in King's Landing, Tywin bought another sunrise in King's Landing where his family remained in power. Joffrey, his grandson, hailed him as the savior of the city and granted him the position of Hand of the King, a position he hasn't held since the days of the Mad King – Aerys Targaryen.

Sadly, no taste of victory could he cherish for long, before his incompetent children soured it up. Upon arriving he noticed a new door adorning the entrance to the Red Keep. How foolish he was to think that the king decided to refurbish the keep out of the goodness of his heart. No, the reason presented to him, for the renovation, was that a young man with Targaryen features graced the castle with a visit, roughed up the king, marauded through the castle with impunity, while the guards did nothing; and departed the city, leaving with their only remaining Stark hostage. Some even go far as to say this boy, this… 'Nero', turned into a dragon and flew away with the girl. Madness… Madness and stupidity.

Looking back at it, through a sane man's point of view, the throne did, obviously, suffer some form damage, identifiable by the large dent on its side, bending several of the molten blades that protruded up from the back, but it was already an ugly piece of craftsmanship. Nothing worth losing hair over. How they dented it, Tywin didn't know, but it sure wasn't the ghost of Targaryens come back to haunt them. Cersei can make up a lie, Cersei can convince, charm or otherwise intimidate anyone else into believing it as well. But what Cersei could never do is trick her father into accepting such a story. He will get to the bottom of this farce sooner or later.

He was writing a letter to Lannisport as he was recounting the apocryphal events, noticing how he pressed the quill more and more into the paper, nearly piercing it as he finished his signature. He would need to procure more supplies for the royal wedding between Joffrey and Margaery Tyrell and he knew Lannisport would fulfill his order with the most diligence. The Tyrells… They compare themselves to roses, but, in practice, they are more akin to burdocks – clinging on to anyone they could, hoping that person might carry them into a comfortable position. They were useful, but time will tell if the roses of Highgarden might become a thorn in his eye.

"Father." Tyrion came in his office as he began writing another letter. Likely to admire the chamber he once claimed. "Are you busy?"

"As always…" Tywin said, focusing on the task before him.

"Oh, well, I just wanted to discuss certain events prior to your… timely arrival." Tyrion ran his fingers over the scar that now graced his face. His undeniable bravery during the battle, where men thrice his size fled, was to be commended. He considered giving the title of Master of Coin to the little monster, instead of throwing him back to Casterly Rock. His brain could be put to use there, freeing Tywin of that responsibility as well, along with giving him some form of power to prance around.

"If it's about your position as Hand, then-" Tywin began before being rudely interrupted by Tyrion.

"No no, It's about the… situation… with the Stark girl." Tyrion rubbed his palms together, anxiously approaching the subject. He knew Tywin's reaction when he first heard his drivel about the legendary Targaryen, capable of lifting walls and punching armies or whatever, so his trepidation was understandable, but ultimately time-wasting.

"Speak, then. Quickly." Tywin brusquely said, waiting for the story to begin as he finished this letter as well, placing a seal on it, and putting his quill down.

"I've been interrogating whoever said to have witnessed it." Tyrion began. "Shockingly enough, nobody told a different story than the one we presented you with."

Tywin gave a skeptical look, narrowing his eyes at Tyrion as, even he, tried to convince Tywin of this legendary fable.

"I've even asked around the city, and some people said that they saw a large bird or…!" Tyrion tried to mouth off as many backing claims as he could, before Tywin raised his hand to stop him.

"Enough." Tywin ordered. "The commoners believe whatever they want to believe: snarks, grumkins, white walkers, dragons coming back to life to save ladies,… I've also heard stories where Robb Stark turned into a direwolf to decimate our army."

"Did he?" Tyrion quipped after a moment's pause, thinking up of nothing better.

"No." Tywin answered, ending that rumor, at least. "No northman is able to turn into a wolf, and there is no man that could lift the Iron Throne and throw it over a hundred feet, not even the Mountain!" his voice resounded throughout the Tower of the Hand. Tywin didn't notice the slowly growing clatter of armored greaves rushing up the stairs, which were followed by an out-of-breath guard bursting through the door.

"My Lord…" the guard struggled for air as he started speaking. "My lord, there's a man in the main hall… Says he knows the man who came before him…" the guard tried to explain, but raised even more questions.

"Which man?" Tywin began dissecting the story with questions, starting with the most obvious one.

"Nero, lord Hand. The one we've told you about…" explained the foolish guard. Right. They had to contend with those, as well. Once the rumor spread out, everyone looking for coin dyed their hair white and tried to extort the crown for money, in exchange for 'information' or 'the safe return of the princess'. Tywin or Tyrion were usually present during these attempts. Being able to sniff out frauds was a trait Tywin was glad to pass on to at least one of his children. Sadly, not the right one. Regardless…

"You seem convinced by this man." Tyrion interjected. "So much so, that you ran up to us, short of breath. May I ask what makes you so certain?"

"I've been present in the hall when Nero attacked. This one, he calls himself Dante! He's the man who Nero was searching for!" the guard unraveled the story in a panic. Normally, guards don't bother Tywin, unless it is a matter of actual concern. If his household guard would dare risk Tywin's ire by intruding like this, then perhaps the man in the main hall merits some inspection.

"Calm yourself." Tywin said. "Now, take me to this man. We shall see if you are right. You as well, Tyrion." He motioned to his son.

"My Lord Hand, it might be dangerous, surely y-" the guard looked up to Tywin's judging gaze, before promptly shutting up.

"I can handle myself." Tywin decided to bring his sword as well, just in case. "Move, we don't have all day."

No words were shared between them as they made their way down the tower and through the halls. Usually, Tyrion would make a joke or two, especially when a woman was making baseless claims, but only silence followed their trek to the hall.

In the hall, they were greeted by a man who wasn't barely even trying to appear like a Targaryen warrior or anything, with streaks of hazelnut hair betraying his rushed dye. He will be having some words with the guard, for sure, but not before dealing with the fraud in front of them.

"So you're this mysterious Dante?" skeptically, Tywin asked.

"Aye, my lord. It's me." this man said. A riverlander, most likely, judging by the accent, or born to one.

"This man that was looking for you. He was said to be able to pick up the Iron Throne with ease." said Tyrion. "Can you do the same?"

"Err… No, my lord." the riverlander said.

"No? Then I suggest you flee for the Summer Isles, while you still can." Tyrion japed, provoking laughter from the gathered lords in the court.

"Nonsense. This… Nero." Joffrey spat out the name as if it was acid. "He said you're related to him. Come!" Joffrey said, stepping out of the throne. "You can surely do it, if you tried."

The man hesitantly approached the throne. "I might need to warm up, your Grace"

"Take your time. I'm sure it will come to you." Tyrion smiled as he said.

With a heaving sound, the man tried lifting the throne, only raising the spirits of the crowd as they laughed at his attempt, the throne unfazed.

"I can try again, my lords." the man tried giving an excuse.

"Practice makes perfect..." Tyrion said, earning more laughs from the crowd. Joffrey and Tyrion had a rare exchange of mirth as this was unfolding.

The riverlander huffed and puffed, trying various ways and angles to get the monstrosity to move, but to no avail. The gathered lords laughed and snickered with each attempt.

"I can't do it, your Grace." the riverlander said, still not admitting directly to his ruse.

"I said… Lift. The throne." Joffrey's voice grew threatening. "Or did you just come here to lie? Lying to me is a great crime."

"I'm sorry… So so sorry, your Grace, I-" the man stammered, as Joffrey's caper took a dark turn.

"Ser Meryn. The man needs some encouragement…" Joffrey beckoned his kingsguard, as the amusement in the halls turned to anticipation. "Show this man what happens to liars!"

"That's enough, your Grace." Tywin finally said, putting a stop to the spectacle, his time wasted enough already. "Arrest this man. Perhaps a few weeks in the Black Cells will remind him who he truly is."

The guards executed their order, taking the man with white and brown streaks away into the bowels of the Red Keep.

"Your Grace." a man spoke up, from the crowd, wearing a hooded travel cloak that obscured his features. "Have you any whereabouts as to where this 'Nero' might have gone?"

"No, we are still looking for him. We've put up a bounty for a thousand gold dragons for anyone that brings him and lady Stark. Dead or alive." Joffrey said. "It is possible he may have joined the traitor's ranks, bringing him his sister and hoping for a reward." Joffrey continued his musings before asking a question of his own. "And who might you be?"

"Just a concerned citizen." the man said. How did one of the smallfolk get inside the castle and, moreover, why is he wearing a heavy cloak inside the Keep?

"Would you mind stepping forward and removing your travel cloak, citizen?" Tywin all but commanded the cloaked figure.

"Sorry, but I can't." he said, as he slowly began to leave the main hall. "Winter is coming, as they say."

"Guards." Joffrey raised his voice. "Seize this man!"

Several guards approached the hooded figure, while some elected to close the portcullis and block the door with a shield formation. The security has improved somewhat, Tywin noticed. This 'Nero' story is proving to be of benefit to the realm, now that the guards took their duty more seriously.

Suddenly, the man removed his cloak, tossing it to his side, catching two encroaching guards in the heavy fabric and making them fall. An imposing red-clad individual with white hair was standing at the end of the hall.

"Stop him!" Tywin's daughter, Cersei, hitherto silent, commanded in a fierce tone.

The man had a sword on his back with an infernal appearance, as if someone captured a dragon's breath and sharpened it into a sword. Surprisingly, he didn't use it, instead tripping one guard in a sweeping motion of his leg. The warrior disappeared for a moment, before reappearing above another guard, landing onto him, dropping both himself and the guard to the ground.

He faced the soldiers that stood in front of the exit, while some advanced on him, also bearing more defensive gear than they used to. He was being surrounded.

"Oh, you think you can take me?" the contained swordsman laughed. A burst of crimson energy erupted from the man, nearly blinding Tywin, who put a hand in front of his eyes and looked away. When the blood-red light faded, instead of the red-coated man was nothing short of a dragon in the shape of a man.

The horns on his head curved outwards and upwards, his body covered in a black scale with a infernal light radiating through the gaps. Two pairs of leathery obsidian wings on the back, and four ghostly, carmine blades ominously floated on each side of the dragon-man. The guards that surrounded him laid flat on their backs, thrown back by the pulse of dark magic.

"Come on, let's see what ya got!" a deep growling taunt was uttered by the dragon man, confirming Tywin's suspicion that the beast in front of them was actually the man that previously stood in it's place. Joffrey was cowering behind his throne, while Cersei came to hold him. Even Tyrion was standing behind Tywin, seeking shelter or hoping Tywin dies before he does.

"Stand down!" Tywin shouted to the guards who still remained on their feet, acting fast before the tense situation turned into a disaster. "Stand down and sheathe your weapons! Now!"

The guards turned to Tywin before doing so, as if to question his order, but complying in the end. The man himself reverted to his previous shape, turning back to the throne. Tywin walked off the podium and towards the man, who did the same, approaching Tywin with a swagger. The two met at the middle of the main hall, standing at a close, but respectable distance from one another.

"Who are you?" Tywin asked, dreading the answer. He heard the stories Varys told him. Two men at the side of the Targaryen girl in exile, crushing an ancient city within mere minutes. A den of wizards collapsed in Qarth, before two dragon-men crashed through a market square, breaking walls and buildings. Could he be one of them?

"Name's Dante… I heard you were paying for information on me. How much are you paying? I'll tell you what I know." the man said before he caught a crossbow bolt in mid-air. It was Joffrey, of course, who was shaking as he lowered his crossbow in disbelief, before dropping it. The man's gaze didn't even flinch as the bolt flew at him.

Tywin did not want to antagonize Dante further, whose display of power convinced him of the veracity of all the mythical stories he denied beforehand.

"What do you want?" Tywin said, through his teeth.

"A little pipsqueak called Nero, I heard he dropped by." Dante replied. So they're looking for each other. Were they allies or enemies?

"Why?" Tywin asked.

"Does his location change based on my answer?" Dante asked back. This flippant…! Tywin calmed himself before answering.

"It doesn't." said Tywin.

"Then it doesn't matter." Dante said. "You mentioned some place called Riverrun. Where can I find it?"

Tywin was considering whether to let him know, throughout the entire process. The Stark boy had broken a promise he made to the 'late' Walder Frey, and, rumor has it, he might be regretting his word dearly soon enough. If Nero or Dante were present with them…

"You can find it north of here, up the kingsroad. Turn to the river road when you reach the inn at the crossroads." Tywin finally said to Dante. He hoped Dante understood more than 'road road road'. "The Starks plan on going to the Twins to attend a wedding, which is further north, on the Green Fork."

Dante smiled as he tossed the crossbow bolt he previously caught to Tywin and began walking towards the exit.

"Thanks." Dante said, before he stepped outside of the main hall and took flight in his draconic form again.

Tywin looked at the stunned guards, nobles and even his family.

"Why did you let this man leave?" Cersei asked.

"Because I had no way of stopping him. Nobody present did." Tywin contemptuously looked towards the guards, some of which still laid on the floor, groaning. "Perhaps you could try saying 'Dohaeris' at the man and hope he will listen to you." Tywin mocked Cersei.

"A man like him walked in here and tormented your king! Tried destroying the throne, but you didn't believe us!" Cersei said.

"This man is gone now. No thanks to your son." Tywin replied back.

"What if he comes back? What if he seeks to place the Targaryen bitch on the throne and was scouting our defenses?" Cersei began to ask. "I want justice for my son! I want this man dead!" she shouted.

"Enough!" Tywin shouted back. "I assure you, we won't be seeing this man anymore." Tywin said as he left the hall, returning to his tower. He had one final addendum to write before he could put this all behind him.

Stannis Baratheon, Storm's End

The Battle of the Blackwater still remained a fresh wound in Stannis' mind. It's as if the Lannisters were mocking him, entertaining his idea of a siege by sending a dwarf to lead a battle against him. A dwarf who decimated half their fleet in a single trick involving a trading boat and gallons upon gallons of wildfire. Just as he recovered from the blow, assaulting the gates of King's Landing, his victory practically guaranteed, Tywin came, at the head of Lannisters and the fucking Tyrells, of all people, to send him back to Dragonstone. The very same Tyrells that taunted him by feasting and prancing outside the walls of Storm's End, while Stannis watched and starved inside his keep, trapped in a siege.

"My enemies think they've won…" Stannis began in a low growl. "They're laughing at me the way Renly laughed at me."

"I want Joffrey dead." he grit his teeth. "I want Robb Stark dead."

The red woman he trusted, the woman who all but foresaw his victory was squirming ever so slightly from his grip. She gave him his victory over Renly. One man dead, making five kings into four. She gave him a son who killed the man he once called his brother.

"I want another son…" he embraced the woman, her exotic fragrance redolent of a burning cherry tree. "I want you…"

"Your fires run low, my king…" Melisandre said, putting a small distance between them.

"The blood sacrifice requires a king's blood. I am the one true king." He told her.

"You are. And there are many who share your blood…" Melisandre explained. "But, to become a king, one needs support from a Lord."

Sensing Stannis' confusion, Melisandre continued. "The path has been shown to us, I've seen it in the flames. We need to travel east before we can reclaim the west." she told Stannis. "And… bring your daughter. I will make arrangements for the rest." Melisandre smiled in a way she had never done before. Stannis obeyed, but a creeping doubt itched in his mind as he packed for the trip. One that no amount of Melisandre's visions could fully scratch. What is truly waiting for them at the east?