This is a story set in a modern Westeros, in 2300 AC. Two thousand years have passed since the main story of Asoiaf happened. Westeros has changed into a democracy of many states.
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The traffic at the Sept was jammed as always. Long lines of cars and cabs were standing still for half an hour. Some buses were standing there too, poking their high heads above the rest of vehicles. Horns were sounding, engines were revving, and some angry drivers were shouting.
It didn't take much to create a traffic jam in the square of Sept of Baelor. A wayward drunk rich kid and a supercar was reason enough pack the square yesterday. Today it was a minor accident which caused the whole chaos. Tomorrow, it'll be something else.
In midst of the chaos, there stood a blue luxury sedan, and in it sat James Stark, bored and waiting for the traffic to clear up. His chauffer was constantly sounding the horn of his car, without producing much result and trying to rush forward wherever he found even a little space. James looked nervously at his wrist watch. He was going to be late again for the meeting. He decided he would call his secretary and tell her and he dialed the number on his cellphone. As always, she received the call on second ring.
"Hey, Nat."
"Good morning, Sir." She greeted him in her sweet voice.
"Ah, yeah, good morning. I -"
"May I ask where you currently are, Sir?" She asked politely.
"I am here at the Sept. The traffic's horrible here. Look, I'll be late, right?"
"I'll tell them to postpone the meeting, Sir." She was helpful as ever.
"Thanks, Nat." He hung up the phone.
He sighed and tried to look at the condition of the traffic outside through window of his car. The condition was as same as it was five minutes ago. Gods, he hated this city. King's Landing had always been the worst place in Westeros to live. The horrible traffic, the smoky polluted air, the stink of garbage and the humid environment near sea were inevitable parts of life of residents in King's Landing. Though it was the biggest city in United States of Westeros, it was the smelliest and noisiest too.
He remembered the life in his own city, Winterfell, though it would have been more appropriate to call it a town. Winterfell wasn't as big as King's Landing, nor as rich as Oldtown, but it was thousand times better to live in. Winterfell was very clean and peaceful. He had been in Oldtown in his college days, and even Oldtown wasn't as horrible as King's Landing.
After fifteen minutes of more waiting, the traffic finally cleared, thanks the of Police department of King's Landing. His driver picked up speed and soon they reached the Red Keep.
The Red Keep was as big and impressive as ever, with its Forty feet high and ten feet thick red walls. It stood on a hill, looking over the city below. It was built by a king named Aegon, some two thousand and three hundred years ago, as James had learned in High school. It had seen many kings and their reigns, the great revolution, the establishment of democracy in Westeros and still, it was as strong as it was two thousand years ago. The Red Keep now has been transformed into the main office of President of United States of Westeros.
His car entered through gate, after passing through many security checkups and headed towards the parking. His chauffer parked the car and James told him to be ready after two hours. Then he started towards his own office, the Department of Foreign Affairs. He entered through the revolving glass door and saw his secretary Natasha Redwyne, waiting for him near the receptionist desk. A grin formed automatically on his face at the sight of her. She was wearing a pale white top and grey long skirt today. Even in these plain colors, she looked stunningly beautiful.
She was a graduate from the University of Oldtown, a university much more prestigious than W.H.I.T. (White Harbor Institute of Technology), where James had been graduated. Still, he was the head of the office, and she his secretary. The Stark name always helped him everywhere.
"Sir -"
"For the last time, Nat, don't call me 'Sir'. How many times have I told you?" He said, "How late am I?"
"Only an hour, James. They are waiting." She said.
"What are we waiting for? Let's go, then." He said.
They both entered the meeting hall together, where a large oval table was in the middle of the room. Two men were sitting on the right side of table, on the first two chairs. They both were from Essos, he observed, the clean-shaved one from Bravvos and the bearded, copper-skinned once was clearly from a Dothraki region. On the left side, was sitting his friend and colleague, Michael Baratheon, who was the head of the Department of Security. He grinned as he saw James entering in the hall.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he said as he sat on his chair, "I beg your pardon for making you wait, but you all know the traffic in King's Landing."
"Rather too well," said Michael, a playful grin on his face. Michael loved to tease James.
"This is Mr. Tytos Brahe," Natasha introduced the eastern men to James, "The Chief of Foreign Affairs in Braavos, and this Mr. Jhogo Rahhal, Secretary under the Chancellor of Vaes Dothrak."
"It's pleasure to meet you, gentlemen." James said.
"The pleasure is ours." Tycho Brahe said, shaking hands with james. The Dothraki only gave a brief nod of approval. The Dothraki were never a friendly people, James knew.
"How fares your President, Mr. Brahe? It's been a long time since we met last time." James had met the President of Braavos, Mr. Ivarys Hygar, a few years ago. He was rather fond of the easy-going and cheerful man.
"He is very well, thank you, Mr. Stark. This year will be his last in the term." Tycho said.
"Really? He's been, what, for two terms in the office now, isn't he?" James asked, surprised.
"He has. But I am afraid he is losing the grip on the situation now. The opposition is taking hold of people. The anti-westeroi sentiment has been rising in Braavos, I'm afraid."
"How sad. Well, be that as it may. What brings you here, Mr. Brahe, in this unbearably hot summer?" James wondered what the Braavosi might answer.
As soon as the meeting was finished, James went to his cabin hurriedly, with Natasha at his heels. He opened the door and went inside. He grabbed his suitcase and began stuffing his things in it.
"Are you sure you don't have time for this, James?" Natasha asked. She had requested him to come with her to a charity function at the Sept of Baelor. It was a charity function for children. The organizer of that function had begged Natasha for the presence of Mr. James Stark.
"I have a flight in half an hour, Nat," James said, "I am sorry. I'm sure your friend will understand if I donate a thousand dragons for his noble cause."
"It's not about money, James," Nat said, annoyed, "He needs someone from Ministry to make his work more publicized. He's running this organization to help poor children in Sothroyas -"
She was cut in midst of her sentence when the door was pushed roughly and Michael Baratheon entered the cabin.
"Helping poor little children, Miss. Redwyne? How generous of you." He grinned wickedly.
"Thank you, Michael." Nat said, and returned her attention towards James, trying to ignore Michael and his japes. "As I was saying-"
"I know what you want to say, Natasha. But I'm afraid I don't have time for that right now." James said.
He and Michael were both leaving for Winterfell for a short vacation.
So this is first chapter. Thanks for reading. If you like it, please write a review. I'll update soon.