Chapter 2: Donald Duck's Dangerous Endeavour

As Pooh wandered through the crowds of King's Landing, a feeling of lightness overcame him. The time he spent on The Iron Throne was nice – he could get honey any time he wanted; but making decisions about what to do in battle was something he just couldn't get his head around. If people were dying out there, what could he, a mere bear, do about it? Plus he had a long turn on the chair and thought it was best that someone else could enjoy the honey and feeling of being a king.

Something caught Pooh's eye somewhere in the crowd. A white figure wearing a shawl. It was much shorter than anyone else around, and by Pooh's eye they had an a yellow bill poking out from under the hood. At Pooh's contact, the figure scurried away through the crowd.

Donald roughly made his way through the crowd, veering around women, men and children. They were all shouting angry things at the castle, things Donald dared not repeat.

Donald continued shuffling through the crowd. He soon came to the front of the castle, the drawbridge down. With his hood pulled low over his eyes, he scurried into the building.

There it was. The Iron Throne. The chair that would grant anyone absolute power over the entire continent of Westeros. He quickly made his way inside the throne room and came up to the unoccupied chair.

As he struggled to climb on top of it, Donald was beginning to have some second thoughts. Would anyone see him? If they did, what would they do? And more importantly, would anyone obey him if he simply just sat down on the chair?

His feet fluttered in the air as he pulled himself up the sharp metal throne, carefully trying to miss the tips of the swords. He sat upon the cold metal and looked around. No one was in sight. He was safe.

Pulling the hood off his head, and surveyed the throne room. The empty chamber was exactly what one would expect to see in a throne room. Banners of The Great Houses hung from the ceiling and portraits of the past rulers were hung about the walls. Donald noticed one particular portrait of a man with what looked like crazy, hateful eyes who was standing next to an enormous dragon. The head of the dragon was only seen in the picture – Donald knew this beast must be gigantic.

Some bustling was heard coming from around the throne room. Donald felt a lump of panic well up in his chest. He turned towards the noise and held his breath, gripping his secret weapon beneath his cloak.

"Who goes there?" came a voice.

Donald saw the person come around the corner. They were young looking, appearing to be about sixteen or so years old. He angrily strode up to Donald, hate gleaming in his eyes.

"You're on my throne, traitor!" the boy said as he fixed the drooping crown upon his head. "Give up your spot or prepare to die!" He stopped before the throne, one hand gripping the scabbard of his sword, the other upon the hilt.

Donald was ready for this. "Finders keepers!" he smugly retorted, keeping his hands upon his weapon.

"You filthy duck," the boy said, "That throne was seized by me fair and square. I am King Robb of Westeros. I order you to leave that throne! Do it or face your death!" Robb unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Donald.

"Whahaha!" Donald cried out, scrambling back against the throne. "You think you can take this throne from me? Alright, you asked for it!"

The two stared each other down, no one moving. Donald whipped off his cloak and pointed his staff at Robb, an energy barrier forming between the two of them.

"Magic?" Robb said. "I can cut through this barrier with Ice!"

As Robb prepared to slice through Donald's barrier, more footsteps were heard coming through the hall and both looked to see who was coming.

"Your Grace! Cease this senseless violence at once!" Varys said, coming up to the two of them. "Oh, what have we here?"

"I am Donald Duck, sir!"

"I want this duck off my throne, Varys. He is committing treason!"

Varys held his chin in thought. "Treason? That would suggest he is a citizen of Westeros. I have never seen a duck talk before. Where do you hail from, duck?"

Donald saw Robb sheathe his sword so he called off his barrier to answer Varys. "I come from Disney Castle."

"Were you trying to overthrow King Robb?"

"I just wanted to sit on the chair!" Donald replied innocently.

"And by sitting on the chair," Varys continued, "you hoped you would become King of Westeros?"

Donald looked flustered. "Yeah."

"Very well," Varys conceded, "You are now the new king of Westeros. Robb, hand this dick – I mean – duck – your crown."

"What? That's preposterous! If someone wants to claim the throne then the present king must be killed by that person."

"Donald... Duck was it? Do you wish to fight to the death to rightfully claim the throne?"

Donald shook his head.

"The king has spoken!" Varys exclaimed. "Robb, your crown please."

Robb, with a pout on his face, reluctantly handed the crown over to the oversized talking duck sitting upon the sword throne.

"If what you desire tonight is duck, Robb, we can find you one that is not so... regal." Varys turned and shooed Robb off like he was a stray little dog. "It's time you go back to Winterfell, Robb. Go and play with your direwolf...what was its name again? Grey Water?"

Robb's angry face was the last thing Donald saw of the boy as he sulked out of the Great Hall.

"Your Grace," Varys addressed Donald, "what would you like to do as your first order as King?"

Donald had many things in mind. Several of which included some very dark and dangerous endeavours. "Yes, I want some chocolate cake!"

And so Donald did rule Westeros with an iron wing. Little did he know there were more people than just Robb who wished to claim the throne. Some that may be plotting this very instant...