Hey guys, so I made a new fanfic... It kinda has some game of thrones themes. SO rating probably will go up! Anyways, I don't want to give too much away. Hope you enjoy!

The Mighty IV

Fiore, a continent built of seven kingdoms, only four are known as true royal- from the collections of land, gold, slaves, and trade. The mighty four.

Mighty: Part I

Syralth's, all laced with sharp eyes, jagged smiles, and born with red crowns, dripped off their enemies blood. They fought through war after war, all riding their ferocious dragons. Brutal, but high and mighty. The single house allowed for themselves to stand boldly in the eyes of other men. Dragneel. Born only for the dragons, stealing blood from others, and bedding poor woman foolish enough to accept, their real wives kept locked in rooms only to be seen in parties and nights of duty. Women were not allowed duty, only those born with a sword between his legs. With this they were a noble house, believing in nothing but the fire of their precious dragons. Those who are rich, or noble enough visit- say it smells of ash, the flesh of those who lie starving and dead, children lay orphaned at birth- and only waiting for their dragon to be given to them, still only available at knighthood. Homes there were sought out by all- made of flames themselves, only sheepish compared to their castles. Laid down in the middle of Fiore, they require much shielding against others. Centuries brought it skyrocketing, these bricks burned red with their bannerman stretch across its pillars, a dragon sleeping in it's prime. Some laugh at it, only the foolish. They mock its laziness, but fail to release its true meaning- they only do when they cross swords- and awaken the dragon that lives inside them all. Connecting these forty-eight pillars was a large platform, this is what brings true fear into the hearts of men, and the chest of women alike. They are said to stretch their necks and slumber until hungry or call upon by their masters- some believe that this is where their royals keep their true dragons, but in all honesty, who would keep the savior's prize near the peasant's beasts?

No one knew where their beast was kept, and no one cared about their fear. The castle was said to take up more space than the actual city it resided in, as with the people there are said not to be wary of the beasts as they roam- clamping their horrid jaws over anything, and occasionally, anyone. The castle's architecture was large, and open- allowing for its knights to fly- and arrive in ash. It had no source of food or natural resources, it only has flames. House Dragneel burns strong, with it a name, and words.

Those who fight with honor will burn, those who slumber until death soar.

Milorth's, their royals blue-eyed- pale skin, luscious white hair that flowed with the winds, all pure and scented of flowers. High, and growing. This gave much fear, but not at their intention. They did not have beasts that ordered men to cry, no they had wits. Women were as charismatic as men, all sly and unpredictable. Allowing for a single house to have never fallen, one of the longest living one- in history stretched over the years to the oldest man. House Stratus has fought many wars, yes they have. Known as the gardens of the realm, they farmed- from grain to fruit, roses to poisons. Harvest brought joy, ensuring the begging of other countries.

The women wore what most thought impudent, showing more skin in the sun than would ever be toasted. Walking into this brings great warmth from its counterpart of the south- the sweet succulent scent only given from the legs of women to others. Men sang along with joy, wooing the woman, and becoming for boys to fight. Stratus house was known as the elk as it flagged on their bannerman, also for their white castle. Not weaved in a special manner. No, only the raising of freemen- paid laborers who gladly helped raise something to protect their kings and queens. They dressed in white- only ever changing on their name day, or at the deathbed. Pure as they were they have never lost a war, only bending the knee- to those with the beasts. Without Milorth people would starve, children would grow wide-eyed- and beg for scraps, without the favor of house Stratus- even your country is sure to starve. Though they are worthy enemies they chose to reside in their homes, only ever arising when war calls. Not a country to party, until harvest- they themselves have a hibernation much like house Dragneel. The people awoke with little head, never seeing a beggar through the streets- brought much joy to the people, all having enough to feed their families. The Royals were always seen through town, taking food to orphanages, or speaking with merchants. They were not ones to come tax their people, no they sent people in the summer. The Stratus family were seen as beauty's throughout all seven kingdoms, pale skin- bright yet sea blue eyes, with egg, shelled hair. Extravagant, but still worthy of walking in. Their house was noble, and true, much like the bowing elk on their bannerman they simply hung over the castle's dining hall, they were not prime with pride, only wanting a higher laugh. This gave them their name, Stratus. Castles said to reach the skies themselves, and touch the heavens and the legs of the gods. Their towers were the only extravagant thing others yearned for. House Stratus, growing with veins- and thrones covering the elk that feeds- that gave them their words.

Watch them eat at thy feet, while thy sore for the stars.

Quoloth, the thought of riches and lions is what is needed in this country. House Heartfield controlled this castle since the age of money. They took over everything, selling everything- and always paying it dues. Only respected for their money never their own treats. The Heartfield were always known for their golden hair, and on occasion fornication with thy brotherin. Castled raped in red from those hired to kill, they were set at the edge of the content, over a cliff most would say. They only spoke in gold, littered with blood, and ruled in glory. They always followed those who won, the lapdogs of all- suckering up to the Syralth and their royal house Dragneel, almost wiping the ass some would say, but when they are in trouble. Syralth comes running to their aid. They formed a strong alliance a century ago, others only despise this house. Their house was large and bold, allowing for the head to always reign as long as money was involved. With war they were an expert strategist, losing only to those with brutal strength. Women hid and feared their stretched royal red capes, said to be the utential to bed their wife. They lived in the Heart castle, a right to their name, it was on the edge of a cliff, shaped in a heart, running slowly and no high beam pillars. Still, the house rose and had remained- through famine, fire- floods, and winds. Most hated visiting, but the smell of oils and silk insured permanent residents. The people pointed noses brought little remorse- ruse with no worry. The Lion they fought for, the lion they were. Proudly perched, mouth ajar as it held it's head high. They always snarled their words, remembering their sole duty.

Pride, Money, Love.

Ocieria, crystal clear water- those promised to shine brighter than the eyes of House Stratus royals, an Island almost. They were known sole for this, they brought in all the fish, giving the thought they were nothing but simple fishermen. In truth, they were vicious pirates- hunting anyone who would dare cross their sea's. Their sole trade was with House Stratus, only leaving both begging for weddings between the two beautiful countries. With little bedding done to bring heirs, they remain loyal to each other. Both sharing similarities with peace, and brute strength during wars- lonely and only ever wanting to ally with Milorth, who gladly would accept any help. They fed each other, sold stolen goods, and wove baskets to hold their catch. Their women blue-eyed, and men dark haired- with light features. They all seemed to steal attention but lack the will to do so. Their castle was made of glass, chambers were made of solid gold the only concealing, pillaged maybe? Their house's animal was only represented as a squid, the mouth opens giving a ghastly expression. They really weren't proud of it, but they didn't have many options. Still, It was raised over their navy fleet, stitched over their sheet. Illegal was their name, selling was their game. Most knew if captured you'd be butchered or worse. Could you become a whore? Or a slave. They were harsh, you were fed guts of rats- piss of the pirates. Or so rumor has it.

Being frightened by them was just an understatement. When invited over to their home, a picture of brutality is just an illusion. It was peaceful, people hurried along- singing, rowing, and on occasion- hauling treasure, and walking along in small groups. They were all family there- never stealing from one another, and always cooperating. Something most didn't know or cared for.

House Dreyar, the shining.

We sail, we steal, we eat.

Bored!

I sat back giving a harsh huff, how do people even breathe in these corsets things? I bit my lip in pain as I tried to contain my ragged breath, staring down at the court. Faces smug, muggy, and harsh, worn, or whores, with bastards, stapled at their legs. I could see lords, beckoning for much younger- and innocent ladies. I have seen them in town before. Reaching their prime, and running down to the brothel- whoring up, only to be called men. While fathering more bastard that will live with their horrid name, and the stripped virtue of their mothers.

I was not allowed to plague in such foolishness, no my virtue was to be sold- given to a ready man, given to a king.

A king who would make me his queen, and allow for me to bear children under his name.

I would probably be shipped away to live with him, and leave my family. It was a horrible one, yes, but they were all I cared for.

"Lisanna..?" I turned my head back a bit, seeing my stepmother's bright face- gasping in excitement on my departure. She was foolish, I understood that still. She thought father really loved her!

I was a bit kinder, though, she was just my age after all.

"Mother, I'm going to go see suitors- not leaving permanently." She rushed to me- in front of everyone clutching me tightly.

"Same thing, sweetie.." She shook her head fiercely, reaching a cold hand to my cheek. "I hope Laxus is still-"

I knew she wanted me out of here but really? "He'll be the one mother." I nodded, confirming her joy. My childhood friend was indeed next in line- the only one who would really marry me without question. It was weird, yes, but weird is how I lived.

He and I knew it would happen one day, our countries are the best of friends- and one of the most powerful allies. Being one is the only thing I could think of next.

"Stand!"

The crowd in front of me rose to their feet's, as the priest commanded. My stepmother's cold hand clutched mine- I grumbled lowly at the sticky sweat. I looked down to it. Father was waiting for me. He wanted to leave the castle too. He wants to leave this prissy wife of his.

I was the last to marry, being the youngest and all.

The old man turned to me, "Come forth." It was a damning voice- the one someone used to order you with, one I never liked. I gripped the hem of my skirt tearing my hand from my stepmother. I approached, head higher than those who called themselves nobles. I wasn't a snob. I was a royal. "Princess Lisanna?" He lowered his head in a calm gesture. I gave a perfect curtsy, one I had mastered years before.

"Lord Heart?" He gave a small smirk, as I stared him down. He lowered the smoke-filled cross, to bow to me. As he did, the crowd slowly began to follow. I gently lowered myself over the altar, crossing my arms- as the wispy November winds bit at my shoulders. "May I be blessed, or-?"

"Hush, Princess."

I clipped my mouth. Lord Heart rose, as the others kept their heads low, including my stepmother who's face read complete and utter happiness. "Would you like to say something before I begin?" I sighed a bit.

"May I birth many sons?" He cocked his a bit, pursing his lips.

"I'll begin then."

The Mighty: Part I

I own nothing! Sorry for any mistakes! Tell me, what's next?!