Son of the Seven Kingdoms

by RantingRyuu728

William Baratheon is the second son of Robert and Cersei. How will the only legitimate child of the king affect the game of thrones? Will he have the strength to protect the home he's come to love? OCxArya, Crossover with Elder Scrolls.

25. The Storm

Disclaimer: I do not own either Game of Thrones or Elder Scrolls.

Special thanks to Milarqui for all the great help he has given me!

Beta Note: OK, I'm done with trying to get Ryuu to use Theon's sister's proper name from the books.

RantingRyuu728: I was using the TV Show's version because that is what the strory is based on.

Chapter 25: The Storm

Castle Pyke, Iron Islands

As she entered her father's throne room, Yara Greyjoy could be proud to say that her face was barely showing the fear that had started to permeate her body from the moment she ran away from her brother. Barely one in every hundred Ironborn had managed to escape the Legions' onslaught to return home.

Willing herself to stand straight, she steeled her resolve for the incoming confrontation with her father, Balon Greyjoy, who sat by the fireplace, staring into the flames, giving no reason to indicate that he was aware of her entering.

"Father..." she spoke up.

"Do you know what a father wants most in his lifetime? A child worthy to carry on his legacy," Balon muttered without turning around. "What a dark day it is for those fathers who have no worthy children."

"I did everything I could, Father!"

"And yet, you lost. Not only did you lose. You lost to a traitor, to your own brother, who betrayed his people for the greenlanders."

"Victory was in my grasp!" she replied, desperately trying to explain what had happened. "If it weren't for the enemy reinforcements..."

"Enough! I wish my two oldest sons were still alive. At least, the two of them died honorable deaths, instead of failing me like those they left me with. A traitor for a son, and a failure for a daughter," Balon remarked as he finally turned and gave Yara a dark look, one that she had seen in him when Theon left, before turning back towards the fire. "It seems the only one that I can rely on is my brother. I know he will not fail me."

"Father..." Yara begged as she tried to step closer to him, only to stop as Balon raised his hand.

"Get out," he whispered. "I can't stand being in the same room with the disgrace you bring in. Get out of my sight!"

Yara stared at her father's back for a few more seconds, shocked, before dragging herself out of the room. Balon continued to stare at the fireplace for hours, with nothing but his dark thoughts keeping company.

King's Landing

"Let's suppose you are asked to settle a land dispute. Both contenders present a fair argument to influence your decision. How do you know who would be the correct choice?" Tywin Lannister asked as he tended to his fishing pole. This early in the morning, in the somewhat isolated part of the harbor they were in, there was little chance of someone else interrupting them.

"Wow. You really do enjoy fishing," Arya stated, instead of answering his question. Tywin had decided to continue his lessons with the young girl while they were in King's Landing, and she was now sitting a few feet away, with a group of guards keeping watch nearby in case she decided to play smart and run away.

"Did you think I was lying?" Tywin asked with a stern gaze.

"Well, you are a Lannister," Arya replied with a smirk on her lips.

"Lannisters are not known for lying," Tywin refuted, obviously annoyed at the turn the conversation was taking.

"I suppose that's true. Lannisters are known for much worse things than lying," Arya mocked Tywin.

"Your quips are doing a better job at testing my patience than any from my children," Tywin muttered as he hooked a bait.

"Thank you," Arya replied. Next time she met Tyrion, he would probably get a laugh.

"It was not a compliment, I assure you. Now, answer my early question, if you don't mind."

"I would have to think on it some more. Make questions, ask for an opinion..." Arya shrugged.

"You have received some sword training, if I am not mistaken," Tywin replied as he cast the fishing into the sea. Arya blinked in confusion at the question.

"Uh, yes, but what does that have to do with this?"

"Were you taught to observe your opponent's movements? That slight twitch in their expression, the shift in their stance, the turn of the foot? You can apply that same observation skill in politics," Tywin patiently explained. "The language of the body can many times betray a person's state of mind, whether they are nervous or confident. How they shuffle their feet or shift their gaze can reveal much about a person."

Arya was intrigued by the idea. She would have never realized that something she had been taught about swordsmanship could be applied to politics as well. She would keep that lesson in mind.

Before Tywin could continue talking, they were interrupted by the arrival of Great Maester Pycelle.

"Eh... my apologies, my lord, for interrupting your time of leisure," Pycelle stuttered. "Ah, a good morning to you as well, lady Arya."

"That's 'princess Arya' to you, old man," Arya snapped. She knew the real Pycelle quite well, thanks to Will and the time previously spent in King's Landing.

"Forgive me, but you have not married the traitorous brother to our... noble king Joffrey..."

"Is there a reason for you to come here, Pycelle?" Tywin interrupted, knowing Arya would likely start a shouting match with the elder man.

"I... I only wish to discuss some matters with you, my Lord Hand. In private," he explained, looking at everyone else.

"Guards, take Princess Arya back to her room," Tywin ordered.

"My cell, you mean. Call it what it really is," Arya sullenly replied before she left, with the guards assiged to her hurrying to keep up with the young girl.

"I must say, the Northerners could really use some help in learning proper etiquette. Why, back in the days of..."

"Do I need to repeat my question again, Pycelle?" Tywin interrupted Pycelle's muttering as he pulled the fishing line, having caught yet another fish.

"Oh, m-my apologies, m-my Lord Hand. I wished to discuss some matters in advance of today's council meeting."

"You are no longer on the Small Council, by official decree of the Acting Hand of the King," Tywin reminded him, fighting with his pole. This fish appeared to be just a bit smarter than the previous ones.

"Your son conspired, while he temporarily held your position, to keep me from my rightful place at the King's side, as well as affronting my dignity in other ways," Pycelle tried to argue.

"Tyrion was Acting Hand by my orders while I was fighting out in the Riverlands," Tywin replied as he finally managed to force the fish out of the sea. "So far, I have not been given any reason to revoke Tyrion's decree."

"B-but m-my lord... I must say..."

"Perhaps he was right, and you truly found your level in the Black Cells," Tywin remarked, unhooking his last catch.

"M-my lord... y-you cannot mean... I-I, w-w-well, I-I..."

"Stop that," Tywin tiredly said, interrupting Pycelle's muttering while giving him a piercing gaze. "There's no one here for you to fool. Am I the only one to see through this pathetic performance? Is it possible that so many could be so stupid for so long?"

Pycelle stopped and thought for a moment, before giving up all pretenses and stood straight.

"There are times when I have trouble believing it myself," he replied, this time not showing his previous behavior. "The only one that has seen through it was young Prince William."

"Indeed? It doesn't surprise me," Tywin replied. "My grandson has long proved himself to be a sharp-minded young man. So, why are you bothering me with your little show?"

"So many flowers, my Lord, each wanting to be the tallest, or bloom the brightest... and one by one, they all get plucked. I do not wish to be the tallest or the brightest flower, I only wish to remain in the garden until it is my time to return to the dirt," Pycelle explained.

"I see. That does not explain why I should have you on my council," Tywin said, hooking new bait and casting the pole again.

"The King's Council, my Lord," Pycelle corrected, earning himself another of Tywin's glares.

"I could have you returned to the dirt this very afternoon, if you wish," the Hand warned him.

"I... I have served the interests of House Lannister, unfailingly, since I convinced the Mad King to open his gates to you," Pycelle noted.

"And yet, you betrayed Tyrion, who was Acting Hand."

"Because I felt he was going against your House's interest, my Lord. He was very close to the Black Prince, and I believe he may be secretly plotting against the King."

"Do you have any proof that Tyrion has been plotting?"

"No, my Lord. But I still urge caution, he cannot be trusted," Pycelle insisted.

"Remind me, what have I done to earn your 'unwavering' loyalty?"

"You have built the strongest of the Great Houses."

"And what will happen with you, I wonder, when House Lannister is no longer the strongest house?" Tywin demanded.

"By that time, I will be already rotting in the Sept of Baelor," Pycelle answered, confident.

"Oh, really? Some could make the argument that the House of Lannister has already lost its position as the strongest house. In just a few months, we have lost most major battles we have been involved in."

"All of them minor setbacks, I am sure..."

"And the lastest reports indicate that Robb Stark has conquered nearly the entire northern half of the Westerlands, that more and more families join forces with my grandson, and that he is on the verge of marching on Lannisport and Casterly Rock," Tywin revealed, annoyed.

"The song 'Rains of Castamere' was written because you know how to deal with a rebellion, my Lord. I have no doubt that you will manage to achieve victory soon, regardless of any stumbling you may have suffered. My future years of service, if you deem me worthy of that honor, will be time wisely spent."

"Well, then, in the future, you will serve me more actively," Tywin stated as he pulled his pole, and he handed the basket full of fish to Pycelle. "Take those to the kitchen. I'll have them for supper."

"Yes, my Lord," Pycelle said, feeling somewhat humiliated, before hunching over and starting his impression of an old, withering man again as he walked off. Tywin carefully arranged his fishing pole and walked, too, towards the Red Keep, where a guard approached him.

"My Lord Hand," the guard said. "The King wishes to speak with you before the Small Council meeting. Also, we have received word that an envoy from the Tyrells has been spotted just outside the city. They should arrive to the Red Keep within the hour."

"Representatives, no doubt, to formalize the alliance between the Crown and the Tyrells. Good. Might as well go see what the king wants," Tywin sighed as he entered the castle.

It did not take him long to freshen up and enter the throne room, where Joffrey was waiting, seated on the Iron Throne.

"Your Grace," Tywin greeted as he reached the dais' steps.

"Grandfather."

"You wished to speak with me before the council meeting?"

"Yes, there were a few things I would like to ask you about. But, before that, I have been told that you are now holding the Small Council meetings in the Tower of the Hand," Joffrey stated.

"That is true, Your Grace."

"May I ask why?"

"The tower is the place I work from. Walking from there to here takes time, time that could be better spent doing my work."

"So, if I desired to attend one of the Small Council's meetings, I would have to climb all the stairs in the Tower of the Hand?" Joffrey complained.

Tywin stared at his eldest grandson with his most intimidating glare, before slowly walking up the steps until he was right in front of Joffrey.

"We could arrange to have you carried, if you so desired."

Joffrey shifted, uneasy, before changing the subject.

"I've learned that you have been meeting with the Stark girl a lot."

How disappointing. Your brother would have never let himself be cowed, and much less so easily. He would have had no trouble in insisting the Small Council meet in its proper chambers, and he would attend the meetings unless there was an emergency, Tywin thought, wondering how it was possible that Joffrey and William were actually brothers.

"Aye, I have been talking with Arya Stark, as I hope to learn something of value that can help with the war effort, Your Grace. I have just sent her to her quarters."

"I wouldn't mind trying my hand in getting her to talk," Joffrey replied with a cruel smirk. "Come to think of it, you haven't informed me of where her quarters are."

"I believe it best to have eas few people as possible knowing where she truly resides while she is in the Red Keep. This will reduce the chance of a rescue attempt."

"I am the King. Why shouldn't I know where she is being kept? In fact, the most value she probably has is to have her punished, and her head on display at the city gates, for my traitorous brother to see," Joffrey insisted.

Seven Heavens, give me strength, Tywin thought, even though he was not a very religious person: as if he did not have enough with the ineptitude of his three children, now he had to add the girl that was betrothed to his grandson and who took delight in baiting him at every turn, and the vicious idiot boy that was sitting on the Iron Throne no thanks to his own efforts. At least, the girl proved to be an intelligent one and willing to learn.

"When Eddard Stark was killed on your orders, it served no purpose for our cause, Your Grace. Harming his daughter will serve no purpose, either," Tywin refuted. "Focusing on Arya Stark will only distract you from the threat of Prince William."

"William the Traitor!" Joffrey shouted. "There's no reason to focus my attention on that traitor at this time, I've been assured that his armies won't arrive for three or four days..."

"Today, Your Grace. At the latest, tomorrow morning," Tywin cut off Joffrey, who fell silent for several long seconds.

"What?"

"The Legions are good for many more things than just their fighting abilities, they are also capable of marching long distances in a short amount of time," Tywin explained. "By my estimates, they will arrive outside of King's Landing before next morning, and their fortified camps will be set by the evening."

Joffrey was obviously at a loss for words, and could do nothing but gap in disbelief.

"That... that can't be..."

"We will discuss battle plans and strategies at today's Council meeting, Your Grace. Was there anything else you wished to ask about?"

"I... um... yes, tell me about the Targaryen girl and her dragons," Joffrey said as he finally composed himself.

"Where did you hear about this?"

"Is it true?" Joffrey asked.

Finally, a little backbone.

"Apparently, it is. I've been also informed that she has recently managed to gain an army of about eight thousand Unsullied and a fleet of one hundred and five ships."

"Don't you think we should do something about her? The Targaryens used dragons when they conquered the Seven Kingdoms."

"When I served as your father's predecessor's Hand of the King, the skulls of all the Targaryen dragons were kept in this room. The smallest of them was right there," Tywin said, pointing to a spot near the throne. "It was the size of an apple, a dragon barely a few days old when it died. I'm told that Daenerys Targaryen's dragons are about the size of dogs, and not much of a threat at the moment."

"But she has a fleet and an army."

"Both of which are much easier to defeat than dragons, and they number so few that they would not have much of a chance in here. Besides, she is still a long distance from the shores of Westeros, and this isn't a time to be concerned about curiosities on the other side of the world," Tywin explained. "The immediate threat is William, not the Targaryen girl. Let us focus on what needs to be focused at this time."

"Very well. Let us begin the Council meeting now, then. Send word right away," Joffrey decided. "Oh, and another thing. Even if you think I should not worry about Arya Stark, I want her where I can keep an eye. Sansa Stark is required to be present at court, so I want Arya to do the same thing, too. That's an order."

"As you command, Your Grace," Tywin slowly answered before he turned to leave. However, a man who carried Tyrell colors entered the throne before he could leave.

"Your Grace, my Lord Hand," the messenger greeted. "I bring word to you that the Tyrells have arrived in the city, and will soon reach the Red Keep."

Tywin was surprised. The Tyrells probably knew that William was on his way into the city, and yet they had decided to come now? Still, he was not above looking the gift horse in the mouth, since this would ensure the Tyrell troops would have to fight, forcing them into the alliance.

"We should greet them properly, Your Grace. Have the full court gather in here, to display your power, and formally greet them as allies," he encouraged. "Then, we can hold the Council meeting with them present."

"Very well, grandfather. See to it," Joffrey ordered.

Water Gardens, Dorne

Myrcella left out a soft sigh as she knitted, sitting at the balcony that connected to her room, taking advantage of the sun light to better see what she did. Sara was next to her, silently reading a book yet ready to act in case she needed anything. Right now, she was just glad that there was a shade for the balcony, that protected them both from Dorne's hot sun. However, as she got used to the climate and her skin tanned, she worried less and less about it.

So far, her stay in Dorne had been quite enjoyable. Her betroth, Trystane, spent a lot of time with her, and she could not deny that she was quickly growing to like the young Dornish prince. The two of them would often play cyvasse – which she won three out of every five times – take walks in the beautiful gardens and chatted about all sorts of subjects. Trystane had once admitted that he sometimes wished he could travel the world like his uncle Oberyn did, but he knew that he had duties that tied him to Dorne, which would certainly need him in the future. Myrcella was quite certain that Will would get along well with Trystane.

However, at the moment, Myrcella could not help but be concerned about what Prince Doran would decide to do about the secret offer made by Tyrion on Will's behalf. Doran had yet to mention the issue, and Myrcella was fighting the urge to ask him about it.

"Is something bothering you, Princess?" Sara asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"Oh, well... I suppose I'm still not completely used to living here yet," she replied, hesitantly.

"Really? I was under the impression that you and Dorne really agreed with each other," Sara remarked.

"I... I guess that I am still a little nervous about something, although I should not talk about it," she replied. "But... I am also a bit worried, because I know that my family and the Martells aren't exactly in the best of terms."

"I suppose that's true, but I have served the Martells for many years and know enough to say that, even if they don't fully trust you, none of them despise you," Sara assured her.

"You really think so?"

"I'm positive, my Princess."

"That's a little comforting, although one can never be too sure," Myrcella stated.

"If it worries you so much, do you know any self-defense?" Sara questioned.

It would make my job a little easier if you did, she thought.

"No, I was a princess and told that I never needed to learn. Although... William did show me how to use a dagger, but only a little," Myrcella answered before sighing again with annoyance before holding up one of her sowing needles. "I have as much a chance of killing someone with a knife as I do with this needle."

Myrcella looked back down at her work as she began to knit some more. Had she looked up, she would have seen a smirk slowly form on Sara's lips.

"Would you like to learn how to kill a man with a needle?"

"Don't be silly, that's impossible," Myrcella replied without looking up. When Sara did not reply, Myrcella did look up to see Sara giving her an amused smile. "You're serious?"

Sara reached into a satchel that she often carried and pulled out a small, thin wooden case.

"When Prince Doran brought me into his service, he did so because he learned that I possessed some skills that are rather uncommon, if not rare, in both Westeros and Essos." Sara opened the small case to reveal to Myrcella that it contained rows of thin steel needles. "What I know is called acupuncture. Prince Doran sadly suffers pain from his condition every now and then. Using acupuncture, I help ease the pains."

"You... stab him with needles?" Myrcella asked incredulously. Sara chuckled in response.

"Oh no, my Princess, I don't simply stab him. I carefully twist the needles in at certain spots on the body called pressure and nerve points."

"I once heard William mention pressure points when he was training with Princess Arya in King's Landing," Myrcella remarked in memory.

"Indeed. Pressure points are ideal spots to target as they can numb parts of the body. With my acupuncture needles, I can manipulate the body. With your permission, may I demonstrate?"

Myrcella nodded in curiosity. Sara then reached forward and lightly tapped a spot on Myrcella's knee, causing it to kick.

"That is your natural reflexes. Your body reacts to the nerve being struck and kicks. Now, if I do this..." Sara pulled out one of her acupuncture needles. "Don't worry, it won't hurt."

Sara carefully twisted the needle in before she tapped Myrcella's knee in the same spot. To Myrcella's shock, her leg didn't move. She tried to move her leg, only to be further shocked that she couldn't! It was like her leg was no longer connected to her body.

"By controlling the nerves in your body, I can manipulate it in all sorts of ways. It's not easy to strike these nerve points, as they are very small, but I can cause a person to be unable to control parts of their arms, make them laugh uncontrollable, and relieve pain as I do with Prince Doran," Sara explained.

"You said... that there were lethal techniques?" Myrcella slowly asked.

"Indeed. By striking the right point, you can cause a person to start choking, cause a blood vein to burst, and there is even a legend about a technique that will cause your heart to explode after taking five steps," Sara explained while a horrified look crossed Myrcella's face. "I don't know if that technique actually exists, but I do know a few forbidden techniques."

Sara turned around and pointed at a spot on the back of her neck. "Here, for example. If you manage to imbed a needle in the right spot, that person is dead, even if they don't realize it yet."

"W-what do you mean?"

"This forbidden technique comes in two stages. Once the needle is in, there is no undoing or surviving this technique, unless you don't mind living the rest of your days paralyzed with a needle in your neck, because your body stiffens up, becoming almost completely paralyzed, with the exception of twitching and being able to talk. In the second stage, the needle is simply removed, casing a chain reaction in your body. All the blood in your body travels up into your head. Your head cannot hold so much blood and the pressure continues to build." Sara leaned closer as she stared Myrcella in the eye. "Eventually, the pressure becomes too great and the blood has to go somewhere. It slowly begins to force its way through whatever opening is available in your head. From your mouth... your ears... your nose... even from your eyes. Then... you will die."

It was then that Myrcella truly realized just how dangerous Sara really was. Sara could probably kill her at any time she wished. It was so deceptive, and yet, Myrcella could see it in Sara's eye that she was telling the truth. Myrcella gulped as a bead of sweat appeared on her brow.

"Oh, don't worry, Princess. I am harmless to you, because I would never attempt to take your life. I will, however, protect you," Sara insisted to reassure Myrcella.

"Sara?" Myrcella whispered.

"Yes, my Princess?"

"Could you teach me these unique skills of yours?"

Sara blinked in surprise. She had expected Myrcella to be terrified of her and was taken aback by this request. Sara then gave Myrcella an encouraging smile.

"Of course I will."

King's Landing

Arya grumbled to herself as she stood in the Great Hall, several guards always watching and ready to move if she dared to make a step in the "wrong" direction. She hated the thought of being here, wearing a dress, but if there was something worse than being forced to look like a pampered lady, it was having to do so while waiting for traitors to arrive and be received by even more traitors.

At least, there was one benefit to this small piece of freedom she had been given, as she spotted a certain someone between the small crowd gathered to receive the Tyrells, and she moved her way towards her.

"Sansa!" Arya whispered when she managed to reach her elder sister. Sansa jerked in surprise when she heard her name, deep in thought as she was, and when she turned, Arya could see the multitude of emotions across her sister's face: shock, joy, then hesitancy and regret, before relief made its way and the two sisters embraced in a hug. Arya noticed her sister hiss in pain, but it was so low, she only noticed because she was paying attention.

"Arya... I can't emphasize how wonderful it is to see one of my family again. I just wish it was under different circumstances," Sansa said, and Arya grinned back: before, she would have been annoyed at the say she spoke, but now she realized how much she had missed it.

"Don't worry, Sansa. Will and the Legions are really close to the city, and we'll be free soon," she whispered. "I'm glad to see you are..."

She would have continued, but as Sansa's hands passed close to her eyes, she noticed that her left hand was missing her ring finger.

"By the Nine, what happened? How... how did...?" Arya gaped, grabbing her sister's hand, before she realized what had happened, and her face turned to fury. "It was that bastard, wasn't it? That damned sick bastard sitting in the throne!"

"Arya, please, calm down," Sansa begged her as she glanced around. Fortunately, it seemed like Arya's outburst had gone unnoticed in the middle of the court that awaited the arrival of the Tyrells.

"I can't wait until the day comes when we can make that shit Joffrey pay for all that he's done," Arya growled before taking a few breaths to calm herself.

"Arya... I... I consider this a fitting punishment for what I've done," Sansa softly replied as she glanced at her hand.

"What are you talking about?" Arya asked, confused.

"I... I said several things I should have never mentioned to anyone else... to the Queen... about you," Sansa explained, a bit afraid of her sister's reaction. "I boasted about my sewing skills, and then I mentioned how you couldn't sew at all. And I also told her about people calling you 'horseface'."

"Oh... that explains a few things," Arya replied, as she remembered how Cersei had tried to talk her down, to break her away from Will, but she had completely failed. She had had her suspicions on who had told her that, and this just confirmed her likelier theory.

"I'm so sorry, Arya. I just... when the Queen remarked that I would be a better match with Joffrey than you with William, I... I went mad, I tried to do whatever I could to impress her, and... and I realized too late that she was just using me, and now father's dead because I was so stupid, I'm sorry," Sansa said, on the verge of crying, as she stared at her feet, because she could not bring herself to face her sister.

"Hey, forget it."

"Forget it? I can't..."

"Cersei deceived you, and tried to hurt me. She failed on my end, and I think you have punished yourself enough for what you did. You didn't deserve to lose a finger, much less everything Joffrey has put you through."

"How did you...?"

"You felt pain when I hugged you, even though I didn't do it too hard. Who hit you?"

"Meryn Trant," Sansa whispered.

"No Ser?"

"He's no Ser, not in my eyes."

Arya smirked: it was obvious the Kingsguard was still missing from the injuries she had caused on him a few days ago.

"One would think you are too forgiving of me, Arya."

"Well, our family has lost too much, for me to not forgive you."

"Were... were you there? When father..." Sansa slowly asked, with pain in her voice, and Arya's throat constricted at the memory of Eddard Stark's death.

"Yes, I was. I had hoped he would hold on until we reached Will's healer, but he said he could feel he was dying. He... he said he loved us all, before he died."

Sansa's eyes closed as tears began to drop from behind them.

"I miss him. And Robb. And mother. And Bran and Rickon and Jon, and Lady. And Winterfell. I miss everyone so much. I want to go home," Sansa said, in such a miserable tone that Arya could understand how badly things had gone for her in this city.

"We will, sister," Arya said, leaning into her. "In fact, I already have a few ideas on how we can escape."

Sansa's eyes opened in surprise.

"You do?" she asked, and Arya nodded. "How? I mean..."

"Sssh, not here. Too many ears listening. Maybe later, if we can get a moment for ourselves. By the way, I like those wolves."

"Thanks," Sansa replied, fingering the wolves in her collar. Given how few were the ways in which she could retaliate against the Lannisters, she had decided to use every weapon in her reach, and had embroidered most of her clothes with symbols that reminded her of home and her family, which she knew needled Joffrey and Cersei. This one was of Lady, who she had not seen in almost a year, but she could still feel her, sometimes, and at times she even dreamt of her direwolf.

Meanwhile, Arya went through her escape plan. The main problem was trying to get away from her guards, who followed her pretty much everywhere, and would probably follow her to a latrine if she were a boy. As soon as she did that, everything was quite simple: she still had the layout of the Red Keep's catacombs memorized, and she knew the exact passageway that led out of the castle and into the city. From there, it was just a matter of reaching the Bee and Barb Inn, which Will had once mentioned was the main headquarters of the Thieves' Guild in the city. If they had got her out of the city before, they surely would be able to do it again.

But most of her planning had only taken into account her own abilities. Getting Sansa away – she was not going to leave her sister behind again – would prove to be just as complicated, and she doubted Sansa would have the stamina to do everything she would have to in order to run away. But she did not care. Either both of them escaped, or none would: it would be just a matter of waiting for the right moment.

"I hope you know what you are doing," Sansa said, as the two of them slowly broke their embrace, and then she paused and tilted her head, examining Arya in a way she had not been able to do before. "You're taller."

"What?"

"You're taller than the last time we saw each other. Back then, you barely reached my chest, but now... now you are almost as tall as I am. You've really grown lately."

Arya blinked, and then she realized that Sansa was right. Sansa had always been considered quite tall for her age, and now Arya, three years younger, was about to overtake her. It seemed that she had finally started the growth spurt that she wanted, and she had not realized it.

Just then, the Great Hall's doors opened, interrupting her thoughts, and Arya glared as she saw the House Tyrell entourage enter the room, accompanied by that slimy bastard, Littlefinger.

"Presenting Ser Willas Tyrell, Heir of Highgarden; Lady Olenna, mother of Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden; Lady Margaery, daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell, and Lord Petyr Baelish," the announcer spoke.

Sansa observed the Tyrells with curiosity as they came in. Obviously, Lady Olenna had seen better days, but her eyes betrayed intelligence as they looked around the court. Lady Margaery was clearly a beautiful woman, and she could also see the shrewdness in her, although there was also something in her eyes, as if she did not want to be here. As for Ser Willas, she could certainly see the resemblance between him and his younger brother, Ser Loras, but while the latter always carried a fresh face, Willas wore a trimmed beard and mustache, as well as possessing a bit more rugged appearance than Loras' more beautiful features. What shocked her the most, however, was that Willas seemed to walk with a limp, and used a cane to walk.

He had an accident with a horse during a tourney, her mind supplied. She vaguely remembered how her parents had mentioned the heir to Highgarden becoming involved in a terrible accident that broke his leg.

Next to Sansa, Arya's hand twitched when she looked at the youngest woman in the group, glaring at her with all her might and knowing she would be unable to hold on her wish to make her suffer for what she tried to do.

"I, Joffrey, of the House Baratheon, First of my Name, Rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, welcome House Tyrell to the capital," Joffrey spoke formally, and, as the members of House Tyrell knelt, Joffrey frowned when he saw Willas had some difficulty in doing so.

Standing next to Joffrey, Tywin was internally fuming. His previous conversation with Joffrey, and now this, had proved how incredibly inept Cersei and Tyrion were in handling Joffrey. His sharp hearing had caught on Arya Stark's outburst, and a sharp glance had brought to him the sight of Sansa Stark's left hand, bereft of a finger. The fact that Joffrey had ordered it removed for no reason than spite at her brother infuriated him.

When Elia Martell and her children were killed at the hands of the Mountain and Amory Lorch, plenty of men had believed that Tywin himself gave the order. Of course, he had denied it, and no one could truly challenge his word as he was not present when the tragedy took place.

However, Joffrey's order of having Sansa's finger removed had been given and carried out in front of the entire court. If it hadn't yet, sooner or later it would spread to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, and the King's, and the Lannister's, reputation would certainly suffer as a result.

As he looked at Joffrey, he knew that the idiot boy was about to say something incredibly foolish, bound to alienate them even before anything remotely resembling what they truly needed, an alliance, however temporarily it might be, against William. It was obvious he knew nothing about the workings of the court, and that Cersei had taught the boy nothing. Unlike her, he would make sure to cut off any problem before it reared its head.

"Ser Willas," Tywin spoke up before Joffrey could say anything. "We are honored to have the heir of Highgarden as a guest here in King's Landing. Your reputation for breeding some of the finest hawks, hounds and horses in the whole realm precedes you."

"You honor me with your words, Lord Tywin," Willas returned with a bow.

"Lady Olenna," Tywin greeted as he turned to the Queen of Thornes. "It has been a while since we have last met. I hope you are doing well."

"Oh, less well than I would have preferred, but then there is little anyone can do about growing old," Olenna cheekily replied as a few people in court chuckled with her.

"I am told that you are here to extend your help and loyalty. But I was also told that you met with my traitorous brother," Joffrey said.

"That is true, Your Grace," Margaery immediately replied with a smooth tone, on behalf of her family. "Our House's connections with the recently deceased Renly Baratheon led us to meet with the Black Prince. But the events that took place there showed us our folly, and we now seek to pledge our loyalty to the true king."

In truth, Margaery was still feeling the nagging sensation at the back of her head that she had started to feel when she met Baelish. The one that told her that both herself and her family were making a mistake by dealing with the Lannisters. But, no matter her personal feelings, she would work with her family to achieve their goals... while hoping her fears were unfounded.

Arya silently snorted at hearing Margaery's words. Obviously, they did not know that prick's true face, and it would take a short time for them to realize that their folly was in not accepting Will's offers.

As for Joffrey, he looked pleased at Margaery's reply.

"That is good to hear, my lady. An alliance between our houses will put down any rebellion and restore order to the realm."

"Your Grace," Ser Willas spoke. "As many alliances are sealed with a union, I offer you, on behalf of House Tyrell, my sister's hand in marriage."

Joffrey paused for a moment and looked at Margaery.

"Is this what you want, Lady Margaery?"

"With all my heart, Your Grace," Margaery replied as she stepped forward. "I have come to love you from afar. Tales of your courage and wisdom have never been far from my ears and those tales have taken root deep inside of me."

"I too have heard tales of your beauty and grace, but they do not do you justice," Joffrey returned.

Arya rolled her eyes at the political talk and the drivel both of them were sending at each other. Just hearing them going on made her sick at the typical situations that nobles and ladies found themselves in, and she was much glad that she had Will and his honesty instead of the false, honeyed words everyone else seemed to prefer. Plus, what Margaery just said proved to Arya that the Tyrells did not really know what they were getting into.

"An union of our houses would be a step in the direction to end the war, Your Grace. The Small Council supports the idea and encourages you to accept," Tywin said.

Joffrey then stood up from the throne as he made his proclamation.

"I am grateful of my Council's support, and I choose to follow my heart. Ser Willas, I will gladly marry your sweet sister. You will be my Queen and I shall love from this day until my last day."

As the court clapped in support of this announcement, a soldier entered and quickly whispered something to Tywin. He nodded and dismissed the soldier before turning to Joffrey.

"Your Grace, I have just received word about your brother. It is imperative that we hold a meeting at once."

"Of course, we must decide the best course of action in dealing with William the Traitor," Joffrey said before turning back to Margaery. "I regret I must attend to my duties, but I hope that we may spend some time together later, my future queen."

"I am filled with longing for that moment, my beloved," Margery replied with a curtsey.

As the court began to disperse, Arya let out a sigh of relief.

"Finally. By the Nine, I wish I didn't have to listen to all the bullshit coming out from their mouths," she said before turning to her sister. "Let's get out of here, before we have to hear more."

Sansa giggled at Arya's tone: everything she had gone through had made her realize that she truly missed Arya's bluntness, and it was refreshing to be with someone she knew so well.

"When William wins this war, you are going to have to deal with politics as well."

"Please, don't remind me, Lord Lannister does it enough already," Arya replied with a groan as the two sisters moved around towards the exit. Before they could leave the room, though, they were intercepted by Lady Olenna and her grandchildren.

"Ah, am I correct in thinking that you are Eddard Stark's daughters? Judging by that wolf symbol stitched on your dress, I assume I am correct," the elder woman stated.

"Aye. I am Sansa Stark, Lady Olenna," Sansa replied with a curtsey. "I congratulate you on your new betrothal with Joffrey, Lady Margaery. I had once hoped to marry him, but time has allowed me to see things differently. I wish you the best of luck in your future next to him."

"Why, thank you, Lady Sansa," Margaery pleasantly replied: even though she did not know Sansa at all, she could tell there was a hidden meaning behind her words, which made the nagging feeling intensify.

While the women shared their commentaries, Willas took his own time in observing the two Stark girls. Looking at Sansa's hand, he knew that the rumors he had heard about Joffrey's actions were true: it did not bode well for Margaery if her betroth had such a volatile temper as to order an innocent girl's finger cut off. He would definitely have to look into several things while in King's Landing, in case his worst fears concerning his sister came to reality.

Glancing at the other Stark girl, the one who was betrothed to the Black Prince, he could tell that she was pretty, but not a stunning beauty, like Margaery or Sansa, the kind that could turn men's heads in an instant. However, upon taking another harder look, he realized there was a lot more to her than what a first gaze could say. Arya Stark was the kind of woman one may not notice on the first look, but when pausing and looking again at her, one would wonder how one missed her the first time. Margaery and Sansa were the kind of beauty men saw first, a gorgeous woman, while Arya was the rugged and wild beauty of a warrior woman – which surprised him, given her age – that left a more unique impression on others. Having heard about Lyanna Stark's famed beauty, he wondered if it was this what people meant back in the day.

"And you must be Arya Stark," Margaery continued, interrupting her brother's thoughts.

"I am," Arya stated, folding her arms and giving Margaery a glare.

Margaery herself was somewhat shocked by the younger girl's hostility, but she supposed it was understandable, if she had heard about the offer her father had made to William Baratheon. She tried to be cordial, curious as she was to learn more about the girl that had prompted the Black Prince to reject allying with the Tyrells.

"I have been told some... interesting stories concerning you. Prince William spoke very fondly of you when we met some time ago."

"I am glad to hear that," Arya softly spoke, looking straight at Margaery. "I have also heard a few tales concerning you as well, Lady Margaery. Which reminds me, I should apologize."

"Apologize? For what, exactly?" Margaery asked, confused.

"You see, when I was captured by the Lannisters, I did not carry my swords with me, so unfortunately I cannot give you the proper greeting that I was planning in my mind," Arya explained, and Margaery was shocked and bewildered at what the younger girl was implying. Arya shrugged. "Oh, well, I guess this will have to do..."

And before anyone else could do more than to raise her voice, Arya stepped forward and punched Margaery in her face. The Tyrell girl fell flat on her back, such was the strength behind Arya's attack, and silence was made in the hall as they realized what happened. This made it easy for Arya's voice to carry as she towered over the older girl, who was nursing her rapidly blackening eye.

"This is a warning. If you ever try again to take my Will, my Black Prince, MY silly stag away from me like you tried in the Stormlands, you will be glad if you can walk away with just a black eye!" Arya growled, the wolf in her showing up to fight what she considered an upstart, and then turned and strode from the Great Hall, feeling great with herself.

Robb's Camp, Westerlands

Jeyne Westerling hummed to herself as she readied bandages and medical supplies, preparing for the arrival of the wounded. Robb, Lord Umber and Lord Tytos Brax were leading their men in order to take the last stronghold loyal to Joffrey in the northern Westerlands. Many men in the army were very excited about it, because it would mean the Riverlands would now be completely secure, and soon a march on Casterly Rock itself would start.

Of course, she and everyone else knew it would not be an easy task. The Lannisters had been heavily recruiting in the southern half of the Westerlands, and those troops were gathering in Lannisport and the surrounding areas. Their exact numbers were not known yet, but it was estimated to be between five-and-twenty and thirty thousand men.

At last, she could hear the sound of men returning to the camp. Robb and his men were soon to arrive, and she made her way out of the tent, intent on watching them come. She paused as she thought of Robb, and a warm feeling moved through her.

She thanked the Divines that she had met someone like Robb. Unlike many others, Robb tried to do what was best for his people, and he was an honorable man, like his father was. Few lords strived to carry on through the honorable path, and she could respect Robb for being one of those few.

"Make way! Coming through!"

Her musings were interrupted by Greatjon's shouting as he made his way through the group. Jeyne felt dread as the large man approached, and she nearly had a heart attack when she saw him.

Greatjon was carrying Robb towards the medical tent at an incredibly fast pace, and men moved out of the way all of them a worried look in their face. From the distance, she could see blood on Robb's leg.

"Robb! By the Divines, you're hurt!" she frantically exclaimed, running forward to meet the two men.

"I'm fine, Jeyne, I'm fine," Robb insisted, trying to calm her.

"The young wolf got nicked in the leg by a luck arrow. But he'll be just fine, little lady," Greatjon assured. Jeyne waved him into the tent she had commandeered for treating the injured.

"Set him here," she ordered as she quickly grabbed several bandages.

"With your permission, my Lord," Greatjon said as he bowed and turned to leave. Just before he exited the tent, he looked back at Robb and gave him a wink before leaving with a chuckle.

"Don't worry Robb, I'll fix it in a moment."

"Jeyne, I'm alright..."

"No you're not! Just let me..."

"Jeyne!" Robb grabbed her hands to keep her still and force her to look at him. "Calm down, please. Take a few deep breaths."

"I... I..." Jeyne slumped her shoulders, feeling a little ashamed. "I'm sorry, it's just..."

"I know," Robb replied. "You're a kind and caring person. I like that about you. But, this wound just looks worse than it really is."

Jeyne nodded, and began to wrap Robb's leg in a bandage, more calmly now. When she finished her work, she sat next to Robb, staring at the ground.

"I... I guess I worry too much," she admitted, unwilling to look at Robb.

"It's alright to worry some, you know. In a sense, it's actually comforting to have someone worry over you... to think of you..." Robb replied as his hand slowly grasped Jeyne's. Jeyne looked up and lost herself into his eyes.

"I worry because... well, I'm very... fond of you, Robb."

"So do I."

With his other hand, Robb reached up and caressed Jeyne's face, before both of them leaned forward, into a kiss. In Robb's mind, he knew he had made his decision: he wanted to marry Jeyne Westerling. He knew there would be consequences for this decision, but his mind was set on this path, and he knew he had the means to ensure the consequences would be few.

For the moment, he would just enjoy what time he had before the real world came back to them.

The Eyrie

Lysa Arryn, Lady Dowager of the Eyrie, hurried through the castle, several knights and lords following as they headed toward the place where Lysa had been told her son was, where her darling little Sweetrobin had been attacked.

An attack that she knew would come sooner or later.

The lords of the Vale, with Lord Royce as their spokesman, had been pushing more and more for her to join the war on the Black Prince's side, and had become more insistent as word filtered from the border with the Riverlands and from Gulltown that the Legions were starting to advance onto King's Landing itself. They wanted to play some part in this war, before it ended and left them bereft of glory.

Lysa's loyalties, however, lied with another. Her dear beloved Petyr Baelish, the one she had been in love with since they were children. Lysa had been in contact with Baelish for a long time since she left King's Landing, and it had been him that had asked to keep the Vale out of the war. Now, he needed her support, and that of the Vale, for Joffrey and against the Black Prince.

Of course, the lords of the Vale would not support that move, that was when Petyr had informed her of a plan he had made, one that would change their opinion. Lysa was worried about the plan, but she would follow through it, knowing that Petyr would not let Robin be hurt.

Robin would be attacked by an assassin, but Petyr would make sure that Robin would suffer little more than a scratch, if he was injured at all. Upon being captured, the 'assassin' would 'confess' that he was sent by the Black Prince to punish Lysa for not joining the war on his side. And, in case it was not enough, he would also carry a letter that would further incriminate Prince William for his role in the attack. That alone might not be enough to turn the Vale against the Black Prince, because she knew some lords would not trust a would-be-assassin's word, but Petyr had assured her that it would be the starting point to ensure that the Vale would support Joffrey's claim to the throne.

When Lysa finally reach her darling son's location... her mouth almost dropped in shock.

Robin, who was completely unharmed, had immediately jumped into his mother's arms. After hugging her little boy for a moment, Lysa turned back to the scene before her. Several guards were keeping watch, and a knight with his face covered by his helmet's visor was kneeling next to a body on the floor. She almost lost her lunch after she saw the body's face, for it had been beaten into such a mess that it was beyond recognition. A young woman stood nearby, with a shaken look, as she stared at the scene.

"What happened here?" she harshly asked into the room.

"T-that man... he said he was going... going to kill me, mother!" Robin said, clutching her legs. "T-then Mya hit the bad man with a bucket!"

Lysa looked at the girl, and she realized it was Mya Stone, Robert's bastard girl, the one who took care of the mules.

"What happened here, girl?" Lysa asked again.

"I... I had grabbed a bucket of water for my mules, when I saw this... this man draw a dagger on the young lord," Mya answered as she tried to catch her breath. "I-I... I don't know what happened, I just... reacted, I think I just slammed the bucket on his head and kept swinging over and over until your guards arrived... i-it happened so fast..."

"I see... I thank you for saving my son's life, young lady," Lysa said, grateful in appearance, but actually she was worried that her beloved's plan was failing.

With the assassin dead, he won't be able to confess he was hired by the Black Prince, she thought before her eyes landed on the corpse the knight was still kneeling over. But... the letter should still be on the body. Yes, that's it!

"Search the body! I want to know who sent this man," she ordered, and the knight stood up, holding out a parchment.

"I have done so already, Lady Arryn. We found this on the assassin's clothes," the knight said, handing the letter for Lord Yohn Royce to examine it.

Yes, Lysa thought, gleefully. They will believe the Black Prince is behind this, and the Vale will soon support Joffrey and my beloved.

"By the Seven!" Lord Royce exclaimed in shock. "This assassin is from the Mythic Dawn!"

"What?" Lysa asked. She had not expected those words to come out of the man's mouth. Fortunately, the others in the room did not realize it, so shocked they were at the revelation.

"This letter contains an order from one of the Mythic Dawn's leaders, to murder Lord Robin in order to sow chaos in the Vale," Lord Royce revealed.

"Arn't they the ones who attempted to assassinate the Black Prince not too long ago?" the knight asked.

"But... that... it shouldn't be... how is this possible?" Lysa asked, staring at the dead body, as the actual situation started to get to her.

This... this was a real attempt on my son's life! she thought, pulling her Robin even closer to her, truly afraid for her son's life in so much time.

"D-double the guards, and sweep through the castle!" she ordered, slightly hysterical. "If this assassin has an accomplice, then I want him found!"

"May... may I go, my Lady?" Mya spoke up, still looking shaken. "I-I still feel..."

"Yes, yes, of course, we'll make sure to find a suitable reward for you later," Lysa said, dismissing her.

"Allow me to help, young lady," the knight spoke up, holding his arm out to Mya.

"Thank you," she answered, as she was half-carried by the knight through the corridors. As soon as they were alone, Mya stood straight, smiling.

"I must say, that was an impressive display back there. If you ever grow tired of guiding those mules, you should consider a career on a mummer company. Or we could use someone like you," the 'knight' complimented her.

"Thank you. You too were quite good too, indeed. I didn't even see the moment in which you switched the letters," Mya replied, grinning. "You Thieves' Guild people are pretty good at what you do.

"That's why we have gained such a reputation. Our mission accomplished, Littlefinger's plot has failed, the Mythic Dawn are blamed, the Black Prince gets some extra proof of Littlefinger's and Lady Arryn's duplicity and the Guild will receive a find payment for our services. What a good day's work this has been," the 'knight', the mask currently used by the third Nightgale of the Daedric Prince Nocturnal, said.

Daenerys' Fleet

Daenerys leaned against the ship's railing, and closed her eyes, feeling the wind blowing around her. The wind was coming from the east, carrying her fleet along as they sailed westwards. She smiled as she enjoyed the breeze: to her, it seemed like the wind itself was helping her to return to her rightful home.

Opening her eyes, she observed her fleet of one hundred and five ships, spread out in formation and ready to make battle at ny moment. Five of them were massive war galleys, one of which she had taken as her flagship. They were much slower and lumbering than smaller and swifter vessels, but they could easily house a large number of soldiers, and they were also manned with large siege ballistae, capable of punching through most ships she knew about. The rest of the ship was a mixture of transport ships and war vessels.

And all of them were full of her men, the Dothraki and the Unsullied that had chosen to follow her to her destiny, to fight for her so that she could regain her throne.

"My lady," someone interrupted her thoughts. She turned, and saw that it had been Ser Jorah who had spoken, and Farengar, Rakharo, Arcadia and Grey Worm were with him.

Grey Worm was the recently appointed commander of the Unsullied, chosen by the warriors themselves at Daenerys' request. She had ordered them to choose new names, names that could replace those of vermin the slave masters of Astapor forced on them. Grey Worm, instead, had decided to keep the last he had been given, explaining that it was the one he carried when Daenerys freed him, and he did it to honor her.

"You called for us all?"

"Yes, I did. I am I need of your counsel, for I am not sure of the course I should take," she revealed. "I have an army and a fleet now. I am ready to return to Westeros and reclaim that which belongs to my family. However, I would like to know your opinions about whether I should accept Ancano's invitation to meet his master in Volantis."

"I do not trust that High Elf's word, Princess," Jorah immediately declared.

"Nor I, Khaleesi," Rakharo agreed. "He's not human, he can't be trusted."

"But, if he is telling the truth, and his master can use the Thu'um..." Daenerys mused.

"He might claim that, but it might not be the truth. Remember Qarth? They pretended to be generous, only to deceive us and try to take advantage of what you had."

"I haven't forgotten, believe me," Daenerys replied as she thought of Qarth, of Doreah's betrayal and the entire mess at the House of the Undying.

"You and the rumors about the Black Prince are all that I or my informants have heard about people using the Dragon Thu'um, Lady Daenerys," Arcadia said. "There's nowhere else with rumors about people with that kind of power. If Ancano's master claims to be able to Shout, why hadn't anyone heard of it?"

"A good point. Since Volantis is on our way, I can decide at a later point whether to visit or not. Jorah, when we arrive to Westeros, where should we land? King's Landing? Dragonstone?"

"Dragonstone is your family's ancestral home, and may be a good place to start from, my Lady. I fear King's Landing would be too big a fish to try and catch so early," Jorah answered. "We would need a place in which to establish a base before attempting to advance, and Dragonstone is the perfect place."

Daenerys nodded, and then she looked towards Farengar with a confused frown.

"Farengar, you are being unusually quiet now. Don't you have anything to add?"

"May I speak plainly, my Lady?" Farengar asked with a solemn look on his face.

"Of course, you are one of my most valued advisors."

"You plan to enter a war you cannot hope to win," Farengar stated, to Daenerys' shock.

"What do you mean?"

"It is true that you have a fleet and an army. Over a hundred ships, eight thousand Unsullied and five hundred Dothraki warriors. It is a formidable force," Farengar admitted, "but any of the Seven Kingdoms can easily match the same strength in men, and most of them can match it in ships... and you will be facing seven kingdoms, not just one."

"Seven kingdoms that are at in the midst of a civil war!" Daenerys insisted.

"That may not be the case before too long," Arcadia spoke up. "In Astapor, I received some news from Westeros. The word is that the Black Prince is marching on King's Landing. If he takes it, then the civil war is as good as over."

Daenerys gaped at hearing this. She felt her opportunity slowly slipping away.

"Do you have an idea on when this will happen, based on the news you heard?"

"For all I know, my lady, it could be over already." Arcadia shrugged.

"That doesn't mean we should give up!" Jorah said. "Aegon the Conqueror was able to claim Westeros, why couldn't Daenerys?"

"When Aegon started his invasion of Westeros, he had several fully grown dragons with him, a dragon's weakness was not truly known, and at the time the Seven Kingdoms were fully separated," Farengar pointed out. "Without the dragons, Aegon would not have gone further than the town that would later become King's Landing. Your dragons, my Lady, even if they can belch fire, are still children at best, and it will be years before they are fully grown."

"And the Unsullied, while formidable warriors, are not invincible. They can be killed like anyone else," Arcadia added.

"Not like anyone else, but yes, we are not invincible," Grey Work spoke up.

"We would not be alone," Daenerys said, trying to grasp the straws. "Surely, there are noble lords who would support us!"

"Possibly Dorne," Jorah agreed. "They supported the Targaryens during Robert's Rebellion."

"That's only a guess at best, and I don't think they would have been so helpful if it were not for Aerys keeping Elia Martell and her children in King's Landing."

"We are so close! Closer than my brother ever was. This is my chance to reclaim what belongs to my family."

Farengar gave her a long and sad stare before sighing.

"My Lady... may I have a word with you? In private?"

Daenerys stared back at him for a moment before nodding, and she looked at the rest of her advisors. One by one, they bowed and left them. Arcadia nodded at him, and Jorah gave him a look of both suspicion and warning before he left them, staying within eyesight and leaning on a railing.

"What is it that you want?" she finally asked.

"Lady Daenerys, I know you want to restore your family's dynasty in the Iron Throne. But I believe it is not within your abilities," Farengar explained, a sad smile growing. "Most of the time you are in public, you try to act strong and strict, and you do not do a bad job, but I know that your true face is that of a kind, gentle, smiling young woman who enjoys helping others. I have no doubt that you would be a capable leader, a great ruler of a kingdom, but I cannot see you as a conqueror, as much as you try to pretend otherwise. You are not fit to be a great conqueror like your ancestor, much less a warrior."

"I've been learning how to fight from you and Ser Jorah," Daenerys argued.

"Indeed, and you have learned. But knowing how to fight and how to defend yourself does not equal to having a warrior's spirit. You try to deny who you are, and try to become something you are not. You have a gentle and caring spirit: kindness, a strong will and making people like you are your strengths. The best thing I can suggest you to do is to break the hold your brother still has on you, if you want to truly excel as yourself."

"My... brother's hold on me? Do you mean... Viserys?" she asked in confusion, before it turned into disgust and anger. "Where did you come up with a foolish idea like that! Don't you ever DARE compare me to Viserys, especially after what he has done to me! I am nothing like him!"

Daenerys turned around and stared out over the water, her hands tightening around the railing with such strength borne out of anger that she imagined herself breaking it down in pieces, so furious she was at the thought that she may be similar in anything to her brother. Farengar stepped up next to her as he too looked out over the sea.

"I am not saying that you are like your brother. Far from it, comparing you and Viserys is like comparing the day and the night. But you cannot deny that he has left his mark on you, my Lady. During your youth, I imagine that he constantly spoke of your family, of how things were in King's Landing. Did he speak about the 'divine' status of your family? That the gods themselves supported the Targaryen rule? That they were rulers of Westeros, the most powerful family in the world, and that it was their right to lay claim to all they could see?"

Daenerys did not answer, could not answer, because it was all true. For most of her life, Viserys had spoken of how the Targaryens had been great rulers, and that those who fought them were ungrateful rats who deserved to die.

"As much as you wish to deny it, some of Viserys' views and opinions have imprinted themselves upon you, my Lady. You need to shed yourself of those beliefs."

"I... understand that my family may not deserve all the privileges that Viserys thought we had a right to, but that doesn't mean I cannot reclaim the Seven Kingdoms for my family."

"That is... technically true. But, unfortunately, you are heavily outmatched by the Black Prince. He has lived in Westeros for his entire life, while you haven't been there since your birth. He has great military and political support, while all you have is in this fleet. Nobles and smallfolk love him, while you are pretty much an unknown figure that might receive the support of those few who wish to restore your family. If you arrive there right now with the intent of reclaiming the throne, the first thought that will cross everyone's mind is that you are the second coming of Aegon the Conqueror, or perhaps that of your father Aerys, coming to destroy them."

"You speak of the Black Prince as if he had divine support," Daenerys sullenly remarked.

"I wouldn't know, seeing that I have not been there in many years. But, given his ability to use the Thu'um, there are several rumors that he is actually a descendant of the Septim bloodline." Farengar shrugged. "Of course, the only way to know if that was true is to see if he could wear the Amulet of Kings."

"What is that?"

"It's an amulet, a large red diamond-shaped jewel on a necklace," Farengar explained. "It is said that it symbolizes the covenant between Divine Akatosh and the Septim emperors, the descendants of Divine Talos and the only ones who could wear it. One of the most important things about it was that the stone enshrined the souls of the previous emperors, or perhaps forged a connection to them, so they could advise their successors. Sadly, when the Septim Empire fell, the Amulet went missing, and no one has ever seen it since then."

"So, there are those who are believed to have the divine right to rule," she muttered. "Tell me, Farengar, what do you think I should do?"

"I can only offer you the same advice I hve offered before. Try to make peace with the Black Prince."

"I do remember you saying that, just before Drogo declared his intention to invade the Seven Kingdoms," she replied, before she gave a small glare. "Why, in the name of all the gods, should I even consider trying to make any sort of peace with the Black Prince? His family, his own father, are the very reason that mine was almost wiped out from existence."

"Orys Baratheon, the first Baratheon, was one of Aegon the Conqueror's most fiercest and dedicated commanders. He became the first Hand of the King, and was said to be Aegon's only true friend. Some of the legends even hint that Orys was Aegon's bastard half-brother. There was a time when Targaryens and Baratheon stood side by side," Farengar calmly reminded Daenerys.

"That is ancient history! Those that once served my family rose in revolt and betrayed their oaths! Stark, Lannister, Baratheon... they are all the same as far as I am concerned! Traitors!"

"It may be your voice, but it is your brother speaking through you, my Lady," Farengar retorted. "I believe you don't even know the true story of the rebellion that ended with Robert Baratheon in the Iron Throne, but that's for another time. Robert Baratheon may have been your family's enemy, but the Black Prince is nothing like him. In fact, when King Robert ordered your assassination, William Baratheon openly opposed the decision, and even took steps to prevent it as best as possible."

"What? Why would the Black Prince try to save my life?" Daenerys asked as she shook her head in confusion, but then her brain caught up with everything Farengar said and she stiffened, confusion and a hint of dread on her face. "Farengar... how would you even know about that? All that you have just told me... all of it would have been kept in secret. Do you have spies or contacts in King's Landing who discovered this information?"

"No, my Lady, or at least not exactly like that," Farengar answered with a wary sigh. "As I said, Prince William took steps to prevent your assassination... using assets that were already in place."

The dread that had clawed its way inside her, slowly but surely, turned into horror as what he had said worked its way into her mind, and she stared blankly at the person she had trusted so deeply.

"I think it is time that you learn the truth about several things, my Lady. Truths that you will not like, but that you need to hear."

"Don't say it! D-don't you DARE SAY IT!" Daenerys begged in despair, her lips trembling and her voice breaking as she spoke. She did not want Farengar to say what she had come to realize.

"I am Farengar Secret-Fire, Knight-Sorcerer and Battlemage of the Order of Blades. I joined the Order upon my seventh nameday. I survived the destruction of the Order by Aerys the Second of his Name because I was away from the Temple, and I rejoined the Order when it was reformed by the Black Prince, William of the House Baratheon of King's Landing. I have served as an agent of the Order for most of my life," Farengar announced. "My most recent assignment: to observe, protect and report on the actions and decisions of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, taking whatever actions I deem necessary to fulfill my mission.".

A slight breeze flew over them, causing Daenerys' hair to flutter a bit as she stared in silence at Farengar, but she paid no heed to it, for the whirlwind of emotions in herself clouded everything else, as all of it showed in her purple eyes, the same every member of the Targaryen family had.

'Traitors everywhere... burn them all...'

"You're... you're... a spy?" Daenerys asked, the pain clear in her voice. "This whole time?"

"Aye," Farengar softly answered.

Daenerys stared for another moment before her lips trembled as she tried to speak.

"I... I trusted you. You were my mentor. You... you were almost like... you were like family, an uncle. I trusted you, and you betrayed me!"

"You have lost nothing in trusting me, my Lady. I have strived to help you, and protected you."

"W... WHY?!" Daenerys shouted. "If you truly serve the Black Prince, why haven't your tried to kill me already? Or are you going to do your job right now?"

"I already told you why, my Lady. I was ordered to observe, protect and report. The Black Prince explicitly told me to save your life from any threat, particularly the assassins sent on his father's order. Not to mention that, when he learned that you could Shout, he told me to continue to teach you about the Thu'um."

Daenerys was left in confusion when she heard that piece. It did not fit with the scenario she had drawn in her mind.

"Why would he do that?"

"He hoped it would be proof of his sincerity in wanting to make peace between your families."

"Make peace! His family..."

"King Robert was the enemy of your family, Daenerys, and he had good reasons for rising up against your father. But he is dead now, and it does not do any good to concentrate in the past. I have spoken with William Baratheon several times, ever since he reformed the Blades, and I can assure you that he is an honorable and worthy young man."

"More worthy then me, apparently," Daenerys sullenly replied.

"You are a capable leader, Lady Daenerys, and I believe you could rule very well, but the Black Prince is also a capable leader and ruler. I respect you both enough. Please, don't make me try to choose one of you over the other."

"You've known the Black Prince for some time, haven't you? I would lose if you had to choose."

"Nay. If you are determined to force a confrontation with the Black Prince, one that will not do any of you any good... I would stay out of it. I would pick no sides. My Order would not like it, but would understand, but in not picking sides, I would make no friends."

Daenerys made no reply as she turned and stared over her fleet. After a moment of silence, Farengar decided to continue.

"Lady Daenerys, please, listen to me. If you attempt..."

"SHUT UP!" she shouted, furious and broken, turning again towards him, and Farengar knew how much pain he had caused to the young woman. "You talk about making peace, but doing so means giving up my dream to restore my family's throne. You claim the Black Prince wants no bad blood between us, but that's easy for him to say when he hasn't suffered because of his damned father's war! You claim to respect my ability, but your true loyalties are to someone else! How can I believe anything you say, SPY?"

"My life and fate are in your hands, Daenerys Targaryen. Am I to be executed?"

The only sound heard for the next seconds was that of the wind and the waves. Daenerys shook her head.

"G-get out of my sight..." she murmured, turning again towards the railing. Farengar stared at her in sadness before he made to leave, but before he did, he spoke.

"Please, don't take the path of blood of war, Daenerys Stormborn. The only thing it will bring is misery and pain, for you and for many others."

Daenerys was left alone, with only the sounds of the ocean accompanying her. And then, the sounds of drops hitting the railing as tears fell from Daenerys' eyes, as she struggled with her inner fight. Part of her, the one that sounded like Viserys, wanted to give the order to end the spy's life. The other part, the one that sounded like what she imagined was her mother, told her to listen, to remember the times she had spent with a mentor, a friend she had trusted and confided in, and that had never failed to give her good counsel. She brought her hands up to her temples as she kept crying and as the headache grew.

'Burn them! Burn them all!'

Outskirts of King's Landing

Just like Tywin had predicted, the Legions had arrived to the open field between them and King's Landing as the sun started to set, and they had built their first forts efficiently before night had fully fallen upon them. And as it dawned, the Legionnaires began to march out of their forts, and set to create what they would need for their part in the war. Ditches if the defenders tried to do a sortie, lines of sharp stakes for enemy cavalry, and siege weapons for when the assault began. Bells rang throughout King's Landing to warn the Lannister soldiers that the battle was about to be joined.

Jaime was sitting on a chair in one of the small forts, which dominated the surroundings, and could see the battlefield. Of course, he was still under guard, but at least William had relented and given him a few freedoms while a prisoner, and Jaime was using them for one thing: trying to learn more about the Legions and the Blades, because he had realized that this was what he had been missing his entire life.

Flashback

Walking through the Legion camp, Jaime could not help but see the hilarity of the guard William had put on him: five Blades, two of them with bows strung and ready, as well as a dozen Legionnaires. Obviously, his nephew did not want to risk him escaping. Not that he could, actually: these forts were so well built that finding an unobstructed way out would be quite complicated. At least, he could look.

He decided to approach the part of the fort where the Blades were training. Today, it seemed that it was bokken practice, as the men and women stood in two lines across from each other. The Knight-Captain shouted a set of orders, and the Blades started to fight with each other, trying to hit their adversary with their practice swords. After an exchange, the lines reorganized themselves for the next round.

Jaime stepped forward and picked an extra bokken from a basket, examining it. The curved, wooden practice sword was certainly different from anything else he had ever used. Even though it was so simple, he could notice enough detail had been put in the sword to be considered a good one. He also noticed that, unlike normal katanas, these bokkens lacked a crossguard, which he guessed would encourage those training with them to not make mistakes.

Jaime noticed that the Blades and the Legionnaires guarding him had tensed, and he could not fault them in doing so. After all, they knew quite well that even a practice sword could be deadly, as Grandmaster Musashi had proved so long ago. He also saw Knight-Captain Steffen approaching him, and sharing a nod with someone he could only assume was William, particularly after what he said.

"Do you just intend to stare at that stick in your hand, or are you going to make use of it, Jaime Lannister?" he called out.

Jaime blinked in surprise and hesitated, but seeing that the practicing Knights of the Blades were looking at him and waiting, he decided to stand across from Steffen. As soon as the latter gave the order, the next bout started. Jaime did his best to imitate the moves used by the Blades, but even he could tell his form was horrible. At least, Steffen was a capable teacher, pointing out what he was doing wrong and urging patience, as practice made perfect.

Flashback End

Jaime could easily say that, in that one day, he had learned more about swordsmanship than he had since he was knighted. This had allowed him to realize that his skills had gone rusty from serving in the Kingsguard, and now he intended to change that. He could do no less, and Knight-Captain Steffen was actually encouraging him, by sharing stories and trading spars with him. It was strange to think it, but he had come to respect the Blades, and he was eager for more.

Elsewhere, closer to what would be the battle lines, William stood next to General Tullius as they observed the troops in motion.

The Third Legion, positioned to the north of King's Landing, would be covering the Dragon and the Iron Gates. The First Legion was to attack the Gate of the Gods. The Fifth Legion was to keep watch of the Lion Gate and act as a linchpin between the First and the Second Legion, which would attack the King's Gate. This way, the battle line would stretch around the entire city.

"Have we received word about our 'hidden aces'?" William asked.

"Yes, my Prince. They will arrive on time, I am certain," Tullius replied. "However, I am concerned about the report we received from Spymaster Caius. If his agents in Dorne are right, then the Ironborn armda could already be attacking anywhere in the Stormlands."

"I know, but right now it is not something we can deal with. We will have to take care of that as soon as we are done here. Has the Fourth Legion moved into position?" William asked, concerned about his family's homelands, but knowing he had to concentrate on the present, and about the Fourth Legion, understrength since Tywin's attack in Harrenhal.

"They are. Fortunately, the darkness will cover their movements."

"Good. Now, we wait for my uncle and his fleet to get started."

"And what part will we play, my Prince?" someone else spoke.

William turned to see Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, approaching him. The Riverlands had been hit hard by Gregor Clegane's raiding and the Lannister invasion, but now they were secure and recovering thanks to William and Robb's efforts. As they got back on their feet, the Rivermen wanted to take their revenge for what had happened, and two armies had been formed. Edmure Tully was now leading about eight thousand troops in the Westerlands campaign, while the Blackfish had taken command of seven thousand that would reinforce William's assault on King's Landing.

"You already know the answer, Ser Brynden. You and your men will help Galmar attack the Dragon Gate, and put those so-called Lion Legions to test, see if they are any good."

"That should be fun," the older man replied, grinning. "It is a pity that we won't fight together in the battlefield: the Black Prince and the Blackfish, fighting side by side, would be an interesting sight, heh heh!"

"I fear that you may have a chance to see that happen in the future," William replied. "How is Lord Hoster holding up?"

"His health is failing by the day," Brynden softly replied. Even though he had never forgiven his brother for trying to force him to marry and for the arguments that had taken place after, he still cared for him, and wished he could still take to the battlefield.

"May all the gods watch over him. Best rejoin your men, Ser Brynden," William encouraged him. Brynden nodded and quickly rode off.

The Gate of the Gods

Tywin looked out over the field as the Legions set up torches, in order to provide light for themselves. His own troops were quickly being placed along the walls and gates, many of them archers, and opposite of William and his Legions: Ser Addam Marbrand, commander of the Lion Legions, was in charge of defending the Dragon Gate.

He had also assigned a smaller force, barely a couple thousand, to defend the River Gate, under Joffrey. He had done this in purpose, expecting that there would be little to no fighting in that place, since Stannis would be forced to sail into the Blackwater Rush if he wanted to launch a proper assault on that place. The fifty-some ships that had not departed with Stannis when he left King's Landing had been ordered to try and delay Stannis' fleet when it approached the city. Tywin held no hope that they would beat the more than two hundred ships controlled by the Baratheons, so that was why he had left a small force defending the gate. At least, it was much better than some of the strategies he had been suggested during the Small Council meeting.

Flashback

"We have more troops than William, why don't we just ride out and finish him off instead of letting him attack the city?" Joffrey asked, although Tywin thought it sounded more like whining.

"That's precisely what they would want us to do. Fighting the Legions in an open field gives them the advantage: they are more dedicated, better trained and have high moral. No, engaging in the field is too risky. We must force them to attempt to take the walls, which we can use to our advantage," Tywin explained him, wishing not for the first time someone had actually taken the time to teach the boy these lessons. "I will command our main forces, Ser Addam will protect the city's northern wall and you will command in the south, Your Grace."

I'll have to send someone intelligent down there, to keep you from causing trouble, Tywin thought, knowing Joffrey's lack of skill would push him to make huge mistakes.

"Well, now I am curious," Tyrion spoke up, causing everyone to remember he was present. "Where in your plans is the 'rain fire down on them' part that my dear sister had planned?"

Tywin blinked in confusion, and a bit of dread slipped.

"What, exactly, are you talking about, Tyrion?"

Cersei glared at her brother, who smiled innocently back at her.

"I was simply planning to make use of a... tool... that could help to win the battle. Joffrey could use it at the River Gate, if need be."

"Yes, the wildfire," Joffrey said, grinning.

Several seconds passed in silence before Tywin replied.

"Wildfire," he stated with an edge to his voice, that any who knew him well enough could translate as 'I can't believe you are so stupid'. Unfortunately, Joffrey did not know his grandfather well enough.

"Yes, the Queen had the brilliant idea of using wildfire against those laying siege on our city," Tyrion replied.

"Your Grace," Tywin said as he turned towards Joffrey. "Wildfire is known for being highly explosive."

"Yes, it will burn all those traitors," Joffrey said with excitement, not realizing what Tywin was saying. The Old Lion did not know whether to cover his face with a hand in response to the idiocy or use his hand to discipline the boy king.

"Let us assume, Your Grace, that while you are standing next to a pile of jars filled with wildfire in the middle of the battle, a boulder hurled by an enemy siege weapon strikes the pile. What do you think would happen?" he asked, and he was thankful when Joffrey managed to make the connection. "Nothing would be left of you for anyone else to find. It is simply too risky to sue it in defense of a city."

"And yet, my dear sister thought it would be a good idea to have more than eight thousand pots of wildfire made... which so happen to be sitting in the Alchemists' Guild's building," Tyrion revealed, causing Cersei to be surprised that he knew of this.

Tywin's hand clenched, and his mouth twitched in suppressed shock and rage at the monumental stupidity of his only daughter.

"Are you trying to burn down the entire city?" he asked.

"Wildfire will destroy any of Joffrey's enemies that we so wish to," Cersei insisted.

"Oh, by all means, inform me of what military experience you possess that makes you think trying to imitate the Targaryens is a clever idea."

"I... I... the Targaryens used wildfire before!" Cersei remembered. "The Mad King used it on Cloud Ruler Temple and the Blades!"

"Which only happened after exhausting all other possibilities he had in hand, and the temple was left in ruins after the wildfire ate through wood, stone and metal," he reminded her before turning back to Joffrey. "Wildfire is only useful when used for offence. If you try to use it to protect the city, you will only succeed in burning it and your self down. I urge you, Your Grace, to lock up the wildfire and keep it far away from any place where enemy siege equipment might strike it."

Flashback End

I was lucky to make him see the stupidity of following that path, Tywin thought, silently thanking the gods. As soon as this battle is done, I will have to make sure he learns what being a king truly is. And see if I can prevent him from becoming the second coming of Aerys.

The Blackwater Bay

Stannis stood on the command deck of his ship, the Fury, as he awaited for the signal. Upon William's advice, he had assigned Davos to lead the vanguard of the fleet, recognizing the former smuggler's ability with ships. The dark sky above them was made even darker by the clouds, as the wind blew the fleet closer to the city, and the sound of the bells ringing for battle reached his ears.

"Orders, my Lord?" one of his officers asked him.

"It's time to begin," he replied. "Signal Ser Davos to begin, and start the drums. We must let the Black Prince know we are ready."

"Yes, my Lord," the officer replied and hurried to the signal torch, which he waved around.

"It's time," Davos said as soon as he saw the torch. "Drums! Prepare for battle!"

The drummers immediately began their beat, sending the men into a flurry of activity, and the half of the fleet he commanded moved forward, ready for the battle that was going to happen.

Stannis watched as Davos' fleet entered the mouth of the Blackwater, where the enemy was waiting for whoever planned to attack them. They would not make it, but that was actually part of the plan, particularly considering what the Black Prince had revealed to him. He turned to his officers.

"Hard to port, land and unload the supplies!" Stannis yelled. His half of the fleet quickly followed his orders and landed on the beach, and the soldiers and sailors quickly unloaded siege ladders, rafts and ferry boats, to cross the Blackwater and reach the top of the wall.

"Ser Imry!" Stannis shouted to his brother-in-law, Imry Florent. House Florent was the only of the Reach's great houses to side with the Black Prince after Renly's death, their loyalty owed to his marriage with Selyse. "You are to prepare our troops to cross the river, wait until I give the order. Ser Guyard, see to our rear defenses, make sure we are able to retreat back to the ships if we need it. Keep a watch for Ser Rolland Storm and his men when they arrive for the Kingswood, and also for any sign of the Tyrell's forces: if they appear, warn the Black Prince."

Outskirts of King's Landing

When Legate Galmar received news that Stannis' forces were beginning to advance into the Blackwater Rush, he knew it was the time.

"Alright, then. Signal the Black Prince that everything is ready!" Galmar ordered, and an archer lit an arrow in fire before sending it into the air.

As soon as he saw the fire arrow, William mounted on Shadow, the Blades quickly following suit.

"Send our reply. Tullius, you may begin."

"At once, my Prince," Tullius replied. "Legions! Let us honor the Divines and our fallen brothers today with victory!"

"AHOO! AHOO!" The Legionnaires roared and banged their weapons in response. Two more flaming arrows were sent in the air as a reply to Galmar, who turned to his troops.

"Third Legion! Let show those so-called Lion Legions how true Legionnaires fight!"

"AHOO! AHOO!"

On the battlements of King's Landing, the Lannister troops and Lion Legions shifted around, trying not to show any fear. The only ones that went unmoved were Tywin and those who were veteran enough to hold their fear.

"So it begins..." Tywin remarked.

As he surveyed the field, full of the men that had chosen to follow him and his cause, William raised his hand and dropped it after a moment. Instantly, two dozen trebuchets, along with twice as many mangonels and scorpions, let loose their deadly missiles into the sky. The entire city wall was soon approached by the projectiles.

Trebuchets were, perhaps, the deadliest siege weapon that existed. Using a large counterweight, it could haul a stone weighing up to three hundred pounds, at a distance of several hundreds of meters. Soon, its devastating effects were made clear as the missiles slammed into the gates, walls and battlements. Men died in droves, formations were scattered, defenses were broken.

To the north, under the cover of their own siege engines, the Third Legion, accompanied by the Rivermen led by the Blackfish, began to advance towards the walls as they pushed what they needed to reach the top of the walls: several large siege ramps on wheels. Instead of using ladders, which were slow and risky to use, the Third Legion's engineers had used the time given to them by the march to King's Landing to build the ramps. Not only did they provide partial cover for them, but would also allow dozens of men to flood the walls at the same time, already prepared for battle instead of having to climb up a ladder and risk being killed on the top. Even now, as the Lion Legions sent arrow after arrow at the Third, the soldiers were protected, if not by the ramps, by their shield as they locked them in the tortoise formation.

The Red Keep

As soon as the bells had started ringing, Arya and Sansa had known the battle had started. Soon after, a group of soldiers had arrived to their rooms and taken them to a room, where all the other ladies of the castle were gathering. Arya frowned as she saw Cersei and the Tyrell women already in the room.

"Ah, here is our little dove and... the wolf girl," Cersei remarked as she spotted them. "Won't you sit and speak with us?"

Arya rolled her eyes at Cersei's false sweetness, but approached nonetheless. A table had been laid out, with drink and food for them, as well as several pieces of cutlery. Cersei had a goblet in her hand, and a servant nearby was holding a flask of wine, leading her to suspect that Cersei had been drinking a lot. She also looked to Margaery, who had a cold compress placed over the eye she had punched earlier.

"How is your eye doing, lady Margaery?" she asked with a suppressed smirk.

"It's feeling better, thank you for asking," Margaery politely replied. Olenna, however, seemed a little less happy to see the girl that punched her daughter.

"I wasn't aware of any custom in the North that allowed the type of greeting that you showed in the Great Hall, my dear," Olenna remarked.

"Oh, it's not a Northern custom, it's a woman's custom. I'm surprised you didn't know about it. Then again, I guess it's a custom that applies only for strong women," Arya replied.

"Must be an old and barbaric custom," Cersei mocked. "Woman of today are more cultured and educated. But, I suppose that some simple minds are unable to move with the times."

"I think it is important to remember the past. The Septim Empire was the greatest empire in history, after all. When Will worked with Tullius on designing the Legions, he used old scrolls and writings that were from the time of the Septim Empire," Arya refuted with a grin. "This war has been doing a great job in demonstrating the past's achievements through Will."

"You are very confident in my second son," Cersei stated.

"No one knows him as good as I do, not even his mother," Arya challenged her.

"A boastful claim."

"I'm not boasting, I'm stating a fact. I could make the argument that I spent more time with him than you ever did."

Margaery observed the verbal fight between Arya and Cersei with interest. She had seen mothers take a dislike to their future gooddaughters before, but Cersei seemed to be taking it to another level of hatred. From what Margaery could see, it seemed that the Queen was taking her hatred of Arya very personal. Margaery wondered if she would be treated the same now that she was betrothed to Joffrey.

"There is no one who knows a son better than his mother," Cersei declared.

Arya smirked as she stood, placed her hands on the table near the food, and leaned forwards towards Cersei.

"What is Will's favorite color, his favorite food, and the name of his horse?"

Cersei stared back in fury.

"His favorite color is black, since it is the color he always wears. His favorite food would probably be some type of meat, maybe boar, same as his father. His horse is an animal and a beast of no significance, since he must have plenty of horses, as most knights and lords do."

Arya raised an eyebrow as she still smirked.

"His favorite color is blue. Black is actually the second, but he uses it more because it fits the nickname he's earned. His favorite food is pheasant, not boar, which he has never cared much for. And his horse's name is Shadow, the only horse Will has ever owned and ridden."

Cersei's venomous glare would frighten a Daedra, but Arya continued to smile in victory as she sat back down. Carefully, she folded part of her dress over the knife she had subtly taken from the table, hiding it from view. With only one guard in the room and two outside the door, Arya knew that this was the chance she had waited for. But she just needed one little distraction...

The Blackwater Rush

Joffrey's fleet awaited Ser Davos' fleet in the river, while thousands of Baratheon troops led by Stannis and Ser Imry made their way along the shore, carrying the boats and ladders they would use in their attack on their shoulders, and waiting for the moment it would be safe to cross the river.

As this happened, several figures were swimming away from one of Joffrey's ships, one of those in the back of the fleet, and towards the city.

"Let's move fast, we really don't want to be near what's about to happen," Karliah said, urging her fellow thieves to follow.

"Don't need to tell me twice, this is going to be huge," Vex replied as she continued to run, the rest of the Thieves' Guild members close on her heels.

On the wall, Joffrey was feeling a bit nervous as the much larger fleet was approaching his own. Still, as his grandfather had told him, they were simply meant to delay the enemy until reinforcements arrive.

Right then, a sailor on board of the Sea Flower noticed the lack of movement on another nearby ship, the Queen Cersei.

"Cap'n, there's nobody on that ship!" he shouted.

The captain, curious, ordered the ship to move closer to the apparently empty one, not knowing that a burning fuse was making its way toward its target...

BOOOOOM!

The Red Keep

On a balcony in the Red Keep that had a view towards the south, Varys glanced up as a massive explosion of green fire appeared.

"Oh dear, it does appear that someone has stolen a large amount of wildfire and placed it on one of Joffrey's ships," Varys noted before turning towards his companions. "And the explosion seems to have destroyed several of the ships that were close to it. I don't suppose that either of you have some idea how this could have happened, would you?"

"It's a complete mystery to me," Bronn answered while drinking some wine.

"Indeed, a mystery," Tyrion agreed as he poured some more wine for himself. "I can't imagine who would have the means to steal several hundreds of pots full of wildfire and secretly move it to a ship in the harbor."

"There will be an investigation, no doubt... if the battle is won, of course. Does that worry you?" Varys asked with a small smile.

"Why should it concern me? I've been here in the castle the whole time," Tyrion replied in amusement. He downed his goblet and then stood up, with Bronn following suit. "Now, if you excuse me, Lord Varys, I have a matter to attend to. Please, enjoy the view."

Bronn and Tyrion moved through the castle until they reached a certain door. After making sure they were alone, Tyrion knocked once on the door, paused, then twice more. Three knocks answered him and he opened the door to see five cloaked figures waiting.

"Ser Barristan, so good to see you again," Tyrion greeted.

The Gate of the Gods

On the western battlements, Tywin turned as a green glow appeared from near the River Gate.

"Send some reinforcements to the Mud Gate. They're about to be attacked," Tywin ordered, while he wondered who had been the idiot to use wildfire there. He would have to make sure that the guilty party was punished after the battle ended.

"Lord Tywin," an officer asked while looking out over the battlefield. "Why isn't the Black Prince doing anything? His troops aren't advancing... are they just waiting for the siege weapons to batter down the gate?"

"Perhaps," Tywin replied. What are you planning, William? If you wait too long to attack with your infantry, the Tyrells will arrive, and you will be overwhelmed. Why aren't you trying to take the city before the Tyrells arrive?

The Dragon Gate

The first siege ramp had finally reached the wall, and Galmar was the first to jump over the city's battlements, followed by dozens of Legionnaires. With a swing of his warhammer, Galmar sent an enemy soldier flying off the wall to the street below. Furious fighting started between the two Legions on the top of the wall, with the original one winning the fight as another siege ramp reached the wall, and Ser Brynden was the first to join the fray.

"FOR RIVERRUN!" the Blackfish shouted, along with the Rivermen behind him, smashing into the Lion Legions in front of them.

"Send some men out of the Old Gate, see if we can flank the Legion!" Ser Addam ordered. A runner rushed, and soon several hundred soldiers went out in a sortie out of the Old Gate. However, as the Lion Legions' troops approached the Third Legion's right flank, a hail of arrows took them by surprise, immediately followed by a sudden charge of the Fourth Legion under Legate Hadvar. William had worried about them, as it had been left severely understrength following Tywin's attack at Harrenhall, but they had come with him and now were repaying the Lannisters by ambushing the flanking attempt. The sortie was cut to ribbons without causing any casualties to the enemy.

The River Gate

The explosion had destroyed most of Joffrey's ships, and Davos had already ordered his to keep well clear of the former's remains and the wildfire that was already burning its way downriver, while remaining close enough to use bows, crossbows and ballistae to provide support for Stannis' assault of that part of the city. Meanwhile, on the battlements, Joffrey was slowly losing his nerve at facing the enemy.

"T-they are coming..." Joffrey nervously muttered.

"Your Grace, we need to send out troops to keep Stannis away from the gate!" Ser Jacelyn Bywater, commander of the Gold Cloaks, who had been assigned by Tywin Lannister to protect the King.

"Uh... Yes... see to it."

"Ser Clegane! I need you to lead those men!" Jacelyn ordered. The Hound did not reply as he just walked down towards the gate.

"Let's go! Stannis is bringing us fresh meat!" the Hound shouted before shoving Lancel. "You too!"

Stannis looked on with determination as the boats started to reach the shore, and both he and his men jumped out of them. From the wall, the defenders began to fire arrow volleys, that rained down on the Baratheon troops and killed many, but the men quickly grabbed the rowboats that had brought them there and took cover under them, with the added benefit of clearing the shore for more and more boats to arrive, as Davos' ballistae sent massive bolts against the men at the wall.

"To the River Gate! Follow me!" Stannis ordered, his sword already unsheathed. The Baratheon contingent ran forward, eager to enter the city and help put an end to Joffrey's mad reign, and they were met with the Hound and his men right outside the gate.

"If any man dies with his sword clean, I'll rape his fucking corpse!" Sandor yelled seconds before the battle was joined.

Men roared and cried as they hacked and slashed each other to pieces, fighting for a gate of the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, and both sides knew that whoever kept the gate would have an important edge over the other. Stormland men continued to cross the river, and soon the defenders could see that they would be overwhelmed if they did not retreat. But Sandor Clegane was not up to the task of giving up... at least, not until an unlucky Stormlander that had crossed a patch of wildfire and was now burning faced him. Looking at the burning man in shock and horror, the Hound turned and rushed back into the city, followed by what remained of his men, and the gate shut behind them.

As they made count of the number of lost soldiers and tried to heal those that were injured, a soldier ran up to Stannis.

"Lord Stannis! Ser Imry sent me to tell you that about five thousand men have made it across the Blackwater."

"That's not enough for what the Black Prince has planned. Tell Ser Imry we need at least ten thousand. Move it!"

Davos watched as the Baratheon troops continued to cross the river, trying to avoid the wildfire-impregnated pieces of wood that floated downriver. Sadly, hundreds had already been lost to arrows shot from the walls, but many more were managing to cross and reach the wall under the protection of their boats: things were still going on as planned.

However, a horn then sounded out from the rear of the fleet, where Salladhor Saan was commanding his sellsails. He turned to gaze in the distance to see what had caused his old friend to sound out a warning, and his blood freezed in his veins.

"Turn the ships around! There is an enemy coming at us from the rear!" he shouted, shocked. The longboats he had seen told him who was attacking now: the Iron Fleet, which was now closing in on Saan's ships.

At the Wall, Stannis had too heard the horn, and had also seen the familiar form of a longboat.

"Ironborn..." he said, his teeth grinding.

"What shall we do, my Lord?" one of his men asked.

"There's nothing we can do there. Davos will hopefully be able to handle it, we have another task to carry out."

The Lion Gate

At this part of the front, boulders and ballista bolts continued to fly against the city walls, while the Legions themselves remained in place, following William's plan. Scouts rode back and forth, and one of them reached William.

"My Prince! The Tyrell's army has been spotted, approaching the main bridge crossing on the Blackwater. They number somewhere between thirty and forty thousand!" the scout reported.

"As we expected. Signal Ulfric to..."

"Forgive me, my Prince, but there is more! The Iron Fleet is in the bay, and they are heading straight for Lord Stannis' ships!"

"What? They're here?" William exclaimed in shock. This ws not a possibility he had prepared for, believing that they would remain in the Stormlands.

"They want to wipe out our fleet so we cannot invade the Iron Islands," Tullius said in realization. "If they destroy our fleet here, then the Reach will be the only ones with a navy strong enough to challenge them."

William wracked his brain: all of a sudden, time had become critical, and he needed to come up with a solution fast. With most of Stannis' fleet in the Blackwater Rush, the Ironborn would be able to bottle them up and deal with them quite easily. He could not afford to lose the navy!

Then, an idea popped into his head. It was very crazy, probably quite stupid, but in times like this, sometimes the stupid and crazy solution was the best one.

"I'll go with Ulfric and the Second Legion to the bridge on the Blackwater. It should be close enough for what I have planned. Tullius, you're in command until I get back!" William ordered as he and his Blades began to ride south to join Ulfric.

"What are you going to do, my Prince?" Tullius called after William.

"Something stupid!" William shouted back.

The Second Legion rapidly moved southeast, keeping parallel with the city walls, and soon reached the massive bridge that crossed the river. Knowing the numbers controlled by the Reach commander, Ulfric rapidly organized his troops so that they could form a semi-circle, allowing them to defend their side of the river and surround anyone trying to cross, while keeping the lines close enough that they could reinforce them.

Soon, the army of the Reach, the men-at-arms and horse of the Tyrells and their vassals, numbering more than thirty thousand, appeared in the horizon, and they soon charged toward the bridge, in order to cross and engage the Second Legion that was everything that stood between them and the city.

While this happened, William rode to the left flank and looked downriver, to the large ship battle that was about to begin.

"My Prince," Delphine spoke up. "I think I know what you are about to do, and I cannot stress enough how dangerous what you are going to do will be if you fail. And if it works and you miss... you could accidentally destroy our fleet, our armies or even the city."

"I know, Delpine, I know, but if I don't act soon then we will lose our fleet," William replied. He knew he was taking a large risk with this action, but the Ironborn had forced his hand. He took several deep breaths and did everything to concentrate his entire will in one place, one point, so that the right target would be marked, and so that his play would work. Then, he rolled the dice.

"STRUN BAH QO!" he Shouted. His eyes rolled back and he nearly fell off Shadow, and would have if it were not for Delphine's rapid moving to keep him on his horse. Just as the clouds began to gather right on top of the Blackwater Bay, the men of the Reach reached the river's northern shore and started to clash with the Second Legion.

Blackwater Bay

Victarion Greyjoy himself had chosen to lead the vanguard of the Iron Fleet, in their attack against the greenlanders' ships. With his seventy warships and longboats, he charged into what appeared to be Lyseni mercenary galleys, which he expected to break quickly, but would find them to be much tougher than he had anticipated.

Unknown to Victarion, the Lyseni ships were led by Salladhor Saan, who knew enough tricks to fight the Ironborn and keeps his ships afloat, at least until Davos could arrive with reinforcements.

Soon, Victarion's ship, the Iron Victory, reached an enemy ship, and his men started to board the enemy ship. Victarion's axe found its way through several men, but it was a very hard task to deal with each and every mercenary, for they were putting up a very decent fight. But he knew that, once the rest of the Ironborn ships reached the battle, they would be able to claim or sink all of the enemy ships. Glancing at the main body of the Iron Fleet, he grinned as he saw them almost next to him.

CRACK-BOOM!

All around the city, and in the bay, the fight stopped as the sound of thunder and the flash of lightning reached every corner of King's Landing: none had ever heard a storm as powerful as this one. Soldiers with their weapons locked felt fear shoot through them as their brawls stopped. Men with weapons raised in mid strike froze. From the Dragon Gate, where the Third Legion and the Rivermen were starting to overwhelm the Lion Legions, to the bridge where the Second Legion was struggling in their battle with the Tyrells, men stopped and looked up to the sky.

In the Bay, the thunder had also stopped the fighting. Victarion looked up above him and felt his jaw drop, for what had been a clear sky had suddenly been covered with thick, almost black clouds, and a dozen bolts of lightning traveled across the clouds, illuminating them as they began to spin in a massive circle that centered just above the Iron Fleet. Men and women held their breath as thunder boomed and lightning danced, wondering what would happen next.

CRACK!

A single bolt of lightning fell, and fell it did, for it severed a longship in half, killing nearly all on board.

"The Storm God..." Victarion whispered, for the first time in his life completely terrified out of his mind, for it seemed like the enemy of the Drowned God had actually decided to destroy the Drowned God's servants with his lightning. And thus began an event that would never be forgotten for years to come.

The wind suddenly picked up, and soon was so strong that it was tearing apart the Ironborn ships' sails. The sea churned and roared as mighty waves suddenly rose up and flooded the ships, knocking men around as if it were a child knocking his dolls around. And more lightning bolts struck from heaven, each cutting a ship like a hot knife through butter.

What scared everyone the most was not that this was happening at all, but that it seemed like the only ships affected were those of the Ironborn. Salladhor Saan himself, barely a few tens of yards from the Iron Fleet, watched on in amazement as the sea around him was completely calm and barely a breeze could be felt, while a raging storm of destruction that he could honestly say made the worst storms he had been through look like a pleasant day made its way through each and every ship of the krakens. As if the gods themselves had reached down with a hand made of lightning and another of wind to beat the Ironborn into complete submission.

The Red Keep

When she heard the conmotion taking place outside, Arya rushed to the nearest window, one that looked towards the river and the sea, and stared out, amazed, followed by the other ladies in the room, who quickly joined her to see what was going on.

As soon as she saw the lightning fall, she realized what was going on.

Will! That has to be him! He has used that Storm Call Shout I read about, she thought, impressed at the power brought on by the man she loved.

"By the Seven..." Margaery breathed in shock. Olenna, who liked to say that her age had allowed her to see so many wondrous things that she could hardly be surprised, was nonetheless stunned at the sudden change of fortune outside. And Cersei's hand relaxed, dropping the goblet in her hand.

The sound of the goblet hitting the ground awoke Arya from her shock, and she rapidly looked around, noticing that the guard, too, had walked to the window. Grabbing the knife she had pilfered, she spun and stabbed it into the guard's throat, twisting it to kill him as fast as possible. When the guard fell, dead, Arya grabbed his sword and pulled it from the sheath. It was not the kind of sword she was used to, but she would be able to use it.

"Come on, Sansa! This is our chance!" she shouted as she grabbed her sister's hand, pulling her toward the door. Sansa, too, awakened from the shock and soon started to run next to her sister, but the shout had also attracted the attention of everyone else in the room, particularly Cersei.

"You honestly think you can escape so easily? There are two more guards outside this room! Guards!" Cersei yelled, silently hoping that Arya would be killed during her escape, finally putting an end to the filthy hold she seemed to have on her son.

As Arya and Sansa ran to the door, it opened, and two Lannister men stepped in, answering the call of their queen. However, that was what Arya had expected, and as soon as they were fully in, she acted.

"FO KRAH!" she Shouted. During her captivity, she had practiced the use of that particular Shout, which had almost helped her to run away from Harrenhal. Now, it was far more useful, because the two Lannister men were screaming in pain as they felt their faces burn because of the ice that had suddenly formed over them. The last thing Arya and Sansa heard as they ran from the room was Cersei screaming herself hoarse, trying to catch up with them.

Daenerys' Fleet, near Old Valyria

Daenerys listlessly looked far away as the ships of her fleet passed around what she had been told was Old Valyria. The Valyrian Freehold, one of the strongest empires in the history of the world, even if it was not technically an empire. Growing from one city whose greatest weapon was the dragon, they had managed to expand greatly and had even defeated and destroyed the Ghiscari Empire after five wars. Allegedly, only the Septim Empire that had ruled Westeros (and perhaps even Essos) more than ten thousand years ago was said to be greater, a massive empire of all nations under its banner.

Those who knew the history of the world had to wonder. Did the Valyrians thought themselves to be equal to the Septim Empire? Did they use dragons to create their own empire because the Septim Empire was founded by a man famous for slaying dragons, a man that became Divine Talos?

Whatever they believe, only the Targaryens are the true remains of Valyria, Daenerys thought as she tried to stare through the smoke that covered the ruined nation of her ancestors. The peninsula that had once existed was now just a group of ruined islands, with the so-called Smoking Sea between them. She knew that sailors would always do their best to avoid it, because every expedition that had sailed into it, trying to explore Old Valyria, had never returned. Her own fleet would have to sail around, in order to avoid any potential disasters.

Unknown to the young would-be-Queen of Westeros, being close to Old Valyria was not the source of crew and passengers' concerns: no, it was Daenerys that was the center of their worries. It was only two days before that Farengar had told her the truth about himself, and Daenerys had lost her way. She kept to herself, and she was often glancing around, almost as if she looked for something.

Daenerys herself knew something was wrong. She had started to get headaches. Sometimes, she would hear voices talking, only to turn and see no one within speaking distance. Paranoia had started to cling to her, and she would steal glances at people while wondering if they could be trusted.

Farengar's revelations about himself had left a profound scar on Daenerys.

Doreah and I were close, and she was a spy for the Mythic Dawn. Arcadia is a contact and friend of Farengar... does that mean she is a spy, too? she wondered. Can I trust Ser Jorah, or is he answering to someone else as well... maybe he actually serves Illyrio Mopatis, since he's the one that hired Jorah. Can I even trust the Unsullied not to turn on me if they are given a better offer?

'Traitors, traitors everywhere! Burn them all!'

Daenerys winced as the ache in her head spiked again. It had suddenly started to happen at random moments. Sometimes, her head would pain for hours, while other times the pain vanished after a few seconds.

And it always started whenever she heard that old man's mad words.

She knew something was wrong with her. She had even started to avoid her own dragons, her children. But she knew not what was wrong.

I... I need to get away... from everything... just for a little bit, she thought, trying to will her pain away. She looked up, and her gaze was set on a small island, barely seen in the haze. It was quite small, probably no larger than twice the ship she was sailing on, and actually seemed to sit quite apart from the rest of the obscure shapes in the smoke. A decision made, Daenerys went to find the ship's captain and ordered for a rowboat to be readied.

"Khaleesi! My Princess!" Jorah exclaimed as he hurried over to her. "Where are you going?"

"Ashore to that island. I need some time alone."

"It's too dangerous, Khaleesi. Have you not heard of the stories they say about this place? There is nothing but smoke, volcanos, the water boils in some places, and they even say demons haunt this place," Jorah protested. Daenerys turned to him, fire in her eyes as she glared at him.

"Is there a problem with obeying my orders?" Daenerys asked with a dark edge to her voice.

'Traitors everywhere!'

"No, Khaleesi, it's just... everyone is concerned about you. You...you haven't quite been yourself these last few days," Jorah explained.

"I'm quite aware of that, which is why I need some time away from everyone," Daenerys replied.

"Khaleesi, please, let me come with you and protect you."

"Did you not hear the word 'alone', Ser Jorah?" Daenerys replied with another glare. "I only want a couple of Unsullied to watch over the boat. You are dismissed."

Without another word, Daenerys turned and got into the rowboat, which the Unsullied took towards the small island they had seen. Jorah stared helplessly as the young girl he so loved made her way away from the ship, and barely paid attention as Farengar silently walked up beside him.

"Had I known she would start to act in such an unusual way, I would have argued against you revealing the truth about yourself," Jorah remarked. "Why is she acting like this?"

"Severe shock. I fear I did too good a job when I tried to get her to trust me. Now that she knows I was with her on the Black Prince's orders, even though I have done everything to ensure she survives and makes no mistake, she's feeling paranoid and does not know what to do, or how to cope with that revelation."

"What can we do to help her?"

"Are you worried she may yet become like her father?"

Jorah turned around and glared at Farengar.

"She WON'T become like the Mad King!"

"I agree with you," Farengar replied without flinching. "She has a strong spirit and will... but even the strongest can break if hit in their weakest point. Right now, we cannot help her, because the focus of her fears is currently on us. But... if someone else cannot help, perhaps she will be able to help herself."

Ignorant of the fact that she was being spoken about, Daenerys let out a breath as she finally stood on the beach. Telling the Unsullied to stay on the boat until she returned, Daenerys walked into the mist, sighing as she wandered with no real destination in her mind, rubbing her face in an attempt to erase that latest spike of pain.

So absorbed she was within herself, that she did not notice where she was going until her feet hit a step. Finally concentrating in the real world, she saw herself at the bottom of... stairs?

What are these stairs doing in the middle of nowhere? she wondered. Looking up, she saw that the stairs spiraled up the rock wall above her, part of a rock tower that seemed to cover most of the island. After a moment of hesitation, she started up the stairs.

The silence surrounding her was incredibly eerie. Nothing perturbed it beyond the noises she produced herself as she walked. When her foot kicked a small rock off, it tumbled and fell out of the stairs: looking, she realized that she was far higher than she had expected. Indeed, the entire thing seemed to be incredibly strange, but she did not let that deter her from further exploring this place.

Finally, she reached the top of the stairs, and found herself in a small landing, a massive door in front of her.

Daenerys wondered how long had this place been here. How old was it? Did someone else find it? Was this, perhaps, a room from the old Valyrian Freehold, undiscovered and untouched since the Doom?

The fact that this door had been revealed to her urged her to try to open it, but it was unlike any door she had seen before. There were no handles, no chains, nothing to indicate how to free the path. Perhaps, there was a lever somewhere in the room?

Approaching the door, Daenerys noticed that it was very beautifully engraved with all sorts of figures, quite surprising considering how long it had been since the Doom of Valyria. Images of dragons and warriors, nine sunlight markings pointing to a gem and Valyrian writing elsewhere.

Wait... there was something else there, Daenerys thought, and she looked again at the writings, finally gazing on those right below the gem symbol. This is not Valyrian... it's the Dovah language! It says fire!

Looking at the gate, she noticed there were symbols of flames to both sides of the engraved gem.

Could it be...

Daenerys stood, stepped away from the door and took a deep breath.

"YOL!"

Daenerys' fireballe slammed into the door, right on the gem... and faded away, leaving nothing to note it had actually existed. Daenerys grimaced, thinking that she had been wrong when she had her epiphany. But she realized something else, and this time, she summoned every ounce of her will.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!" Daenerys yelled as she released the full Dragon Shout. She had not been sure if she would have been able to do it, as the only other time she had managed it was in the House of the Undying, and that was when she was completely concentrated in dealing with Pyat Pree and free herself and her children.

Soon, she felt her strength draining away quickly, but she did her best to keep the flames up the door. To her shock, the door seemed to be almost... immune to the flames. The Shout that had melted stone when used at the House of the Undying was not leaving any mark in this door.

In the end, Daenerys had to relent, gasping for breath after her effort, and she almost lost it again when she gazed at the door again.

Her Fire Shout had not disappeared. Instead, it seemed to penetrate the door, lighting up the symbols with a fiery glow, a beautiful spectacle that nearly left her breathless. A loud cracking shook the place, and the door started to sink into the ground.

After a moment of hesitation, Daenerys slowly entered the dark chamber. The air, somehow, was not polluted after centuries of being closed, and so she was able to breath rather easily as she looked around. The walls seemed to have paintings that had faded with age, and the only other element that stood out was a pedestal with a worn cloth over it. Slowly, Daenerys reached up and removed the cloth.

Resting on the pedestal was a large amulet. A large red, diamond-shaped gem, resting in a golden clasp, surrounded by eight additional smaller gems.

The Amulet of Kings! she thought, amazed. One of the greatest, most important artifacts in the history of the world, and she had found it in this small island in the middle of nowhere.

Her breath hitched as she stared at the Amulet. How had the Valyrians found the Amulet? Where? When? She may have not known about the Amulet until Farengar told her about, but most nobility knew of the Septim Empire and its glory. The Amulet of Kings was a powerful symbol... one that nations would pay a fortune to have.

And only the Dovahkiin can wear it, she remembered. Her hands shook as she reached out again and lifted the Amulet by its gold chain. Despite what Farengar had told her, Daenerys still hoped that she was, somehow, Dovahkiin, the Dragonborn.

Anticipation shot through Daenerys as she lifted the chain over her head. After a brief pause, she released the chain.

Clang!

Daenerys stared at the Amulet that now sat on the ground. The chain had passed through her as if she did not exist. She fell to her knees as she stared at the Amulet. She slowly brought her hand to her head as it began to ache again.

'... Burn them all!' the old man cackled, and the jester's laugh echoed in Daenerys' head as she fell to the ground.

Chapter End

I feel a little bad for not covering the whole battle of King's Landing, but this is a large chapter and we do have one more to go for the current season. What will happen to everyone? Why did William hold back so much of his troops from attack? What is his plan? You'll find out soon... hopefully.

Quick Announcement! One of my readers suggested that I attempt to make one of those fanfictions where the characters in the story read the story itself. Example: The Harry Potter character read and react to the Harry Potter books.

For my story, my reader suggested that I have the characters of Game of Thrones read Son of the Seven Kingdoms as like some sort of alternate universe or something like that.

I myself however, have never gotten into those stories too much. But, if enough readers want me to take a shot at it, or some other fanfiction author wants to take a shot at it, let me know what you think!

Some reviewers have brought up the issue about the strengths and weaknesses between a Katana and a Longsword, as well as the differences between Legionaries and Feudal Knights. This is a fantasy story and the strengths and weaknesses of arms, armor, and different militaries are not a true concern. While the armor and weapons of medieval era may use more advance forging methods and materials, the Roman Legions are the army that conquered one of the largest and greatest empires in history. No medieval style army has managed to match these feats, to my knowledge. Either way, as I said, this is a fantasy story.

To another Guest Reviewer, I do not think Robert's hammer will appear for a while, if at all.

To guest reviewer C.E.W, and Pop snap crunch who supports C.E.W's idea, your idea of having Harkon and the White Walkers make an army of Orcs doesn't quite fit as well as you suggest. It's not a bad idea and would indeed make the threats north of the wall even greater, but it's basically a Lord of the Rings idea. This story is a Skyrim and Game of Thrones crossover.

I know your saying use the Orc from Skyrim, but changing them to become orcs from LOTR doesn't feel right. It would make more sense if the story was crossover with LOTR, but it's not. The Orcs from Elder Scrolls have their own culture that differs in so many ways from Orcs in LOTR. Not to mention that the Orcs in Skyrim are a race of Mer, the Orsimer, similar to the Dark Elves (Dunmer) and High Elves (Altmer). I'm very sorry, but I don't think your idea is one that I can implement into the story.

Besides, if I added the Orcs in, people would want the Argonians, the Khajiit, and all the other elven races added in. Other than a handful of characters, I don't plan on doing that.

Meanwhile, in the Ranting Realm...

Whis: ... ahhh! Such delicious tea you make, Tiny Tina.

Tiny Tina: Why thank you, Mr. Whis. I am so glad you could join us for our tea party. Oh, Sir Reginald, would you like some more crumpets?

Whis: Hmmm, Lord Beerus and Ranting Ryuu haven't been around recently, have they? I'm surprise Ryuu finally decided to try and fight Lord Beerus.

Tiny Tina: Well, he does have Dragonball Xenoverse and is using it as a loophole to have DBZ powers... buuuut!

Ranting Ryuu: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! BOOOOOM! ... ... (Twitches in crater.)

Tiny Tina: As you can see, it's not going as well for big bro as he had hoped.

Whis: Yes, I can see that quite clearly. (Sips tea.)

Beerus: Really, Ryuu? I expected more. (Floats down to the ground.) While it's clear you have skill, not to mention your success in completing the training with each mentor in Xenoverse gives you a large number of techniques, you still do not have the ability to defeat me using only the Dragonball Z universe powers. (Grins and spreads his arms.) Why not use all the powers at your disposal? That would make this a much more interesting match!

Ranting Ryuu: Huff... ouch... It wouldn't really be fair... Huff... and not as much fun. Besides, why are you still angry at me? I told you I did not insult you in anyway.

Beerus: Truthfully, I more interested in just having a punching bag at this moment, heh heh! It's quite entertaining!

Whis: ... Say, Miss Tina?

Tiny Tina: What?

Whis: Didn't one of the story reviewers... oh, what was his name... Oh, yes! Lt. Cmdr. Radner! Didn't he send his greatest asset, something he referred to as ? , to help out?

Tiny Tina: Yah, but he tried to enter the Ranting Realm before Ryuu could give him the pass codes and activated the failsafe teleporter. Not sure where he is at the moment...

Crash!

?: Finally made it! Had to scourer all over the Highschool of the Dead region before I caught these two! (Lifts up Kidpool and Headpool) Back home you go! (Tosses the two into a portal)

Kidpool: NOOO! I can't be separated from my sweet baboo!

Tiny Tina: (shivers) Whew! Glad that he's gone again. Almost as bad as the time-

?: BEERUS! Now it's your turn! Prepare to get your-

Tiny Tina: DON'T INTERRUPT ME! CRUNCH!

(Insert Ave Maria music in sync with slow motion of ? grabbing between his legs and high pitched screaming.)

(Oh, Lt. Cmdr Radner described ? as your favorite childhood toy with the physique of Rambo, the attitude of Wolverine, and the temperament of Hellboy. You can draw your conclusion from there.)

Whis: Hmmm, strange. Judging by Lt. Cmdr. Radner's description of ?, that should have been impossible.

Tiny Tina: Now, then. As I was saying-

Beerus: Whatever. Now, Ryuu, I believe I was about to destroy-

Tiny Tina: I said DON"T INTERRUPT ME! CRUNCH!

(Insert more Ave Maria music, only it's now Beerus grabbing his mini-me this time.)

Whis: Now I'm really impressed. Just how powerful can Tiny Tina become, Ryuu?"

Ranting Ryuu: No clue. Her strength is beyond even my comprehension. Well, see you all in the next chapter!