Chapter 2-Shadow and Flame Part 1
Braavos was truly a sight to behold. A place known for its commerce and swordsmen, the Free City was a place that thrived with merchants, explorers, travelers, and anyone else visiting could make something of themselves. The stories people told about the land were known far and wide by all in Westeros and in Essos. People told stories of the Titan of Braavos stood watch over the land, looking ready to challenge any foe seeking to challenge it in battle. The Iron Bank ruled without any room for mercy from those who did business with them and made it known that if you couldn't pay your debts, they would collect on said debts by backing your enemies to collect what was owed to them. The House of Black and White was known as the religious temple for the Many Face God and the home of the Faceless Men. A place forged from the shadows, blood, sweat, and pain of former slaves seeking to make their own way in life once the chains that bound them had slipped of their bodies.
And young dragon who walked through its streets loved every second of it.
For a time, he wondered what Lord Stark was doing at this moment. The man should be home soon, if not by now. Entering the castle to greet his wife, children, and servants keeping everything in order. Only to find a certain "bastard" not among the rank and file. One missing boy. If it weren't for the fact that said boy was so important to the Warden of the North, the missing child would be considered a minor thing to the Lord of House Stark.
But the boy was special. In more ways than one. Soon, Lord Stark would soon learn Jon Snow was no longer living in Winterfell. He would soon learn the boy was gone from the castle and suspect his wife was the cause. Would he dig deeper? Would he accept the lie that Maul knew would come out of the woman's mouth? Would he send out search parties? Would he give up without even trying?
Only time would tell.
In the meantime, Maul walked through the line of people moving back and forth through the market buy goods and wares from all over. Fruits, trinkets, silk, and supposedly magical items with the power to change the life of its holder. Maul smirked at the thought of someone buying some supposedly ancient looking jewel capable of giving its user long lasting life and immense fortune. Only a fool would consider buying such a thing because who in their right mind would want to sell the item if it could?
But this was not why Maul was in Braavos. No. He was here to learn. Learn how to fight. Learn how to kill. To be a hunter. To be unseen. To be an extension of death itself and kill his enemies without them knowing he was the source of their end until it was too late. He had been in the Free City for only a few weeks but obtained quite a bit of knowledge about the city. Maul had been renting a room at an Inn with what coin he had on him and kept on paying through the money obtained through the wealthy people who lost said coin when walking among the populace.
With that being the case, Maul made his way to the House of Black and White.
A knock on the door resulted in it soon opening slightly to reveal a slim man with red hair.
"Valar Morghulis," said Maul while the man stared back at him for a few seconds as if to gauge him.
"Valar Dohaeris," said the man in a whispery tone.
"I seek to learn how to be a Faceless Man," said Maul with the man in front of him looking at him blankly like it was a common thing for anyone to come here.
"While such a thing is possible, we do not recruit one so young into our fold. You have nothing to offer a man or the Many Face God to consider such a request," said the man while Maul smirked at him when the door started to shut.
"Not even for the blood of the dragon?" asked Maul with the door stopping just before it shut entirely and reopened again for the man to stare back him with more scrutiny.
"This one is listening," said the man while Maul motioned to let him in.
"What I have to say is not meant for ears outside of this house," said Maul while the man smirked.
"You learn quickly for one so young. A man is impressed," said the figure before opening the door and let Maul into the House of Black and White.
The two walked through the halls, passing one or two people attending to the many faces on each of the pillars and walls for all to see, and was a testament to the skills of Faceless Men. The two sat down in an area that had a small pool style fountain flowing with water and the man made a small hand motioned for everyone to leave.
"Can you teach me?" asked Maul with the red-haired man looking carefully.
"What you ask for has not been done for somebody so young. You are close to the age where a man would train someone to be no one. But your ability to pay for such a special case is in question. Can a boy offer what no man has offered us in the past?" said the man with Maul nodding.
"The blood of the dragon is in my veins. The blood of Kings. From two Houses," said Maul with the man looking at him with even more intensity.
No doubt looking for a lie since it was said they could tell when someone lied or spoke the truth. They even made a game out of it.
"The House names?" asked the man.
"House Targaryen and House Stark. Fire and ice," replied Maul with the man's eyes widening.
"The Prince that was promised," whispered the man.
"My Father was Prince Rheagar Targaryen. My mother was Lyanna Stark. They married in front of the old Gods the new. The blood of the Kings from the House of the dragon and the blood of Kings from the North," said Maul with the man looking incredibly interested.
"A man sees you are telling the truth. This man is interested in payment," said the man while Maul gave him a nod.
"Bring me a jar and blade. I will shed the blood in front of you," said Maul calmly while the man nodded and walked over to a table where a small empty jar and clean blade just happened to be lying around.
"To the top please," said the man who saw Maul nod and cut his right hand to let the blood flow into the glass jar until it reached the top before wrapping it in a bandage.
"I trust this is enough for you?" said Maul with the man nodding and put a lid on the jar.
"A man accepts the payment on behalf of the Many Face God. A man shall begin your training at once," said the man with Maul nodding.
"I have but one request. Do not be gentle in the training. Be as cruel as you can. Pain breeds strength and I need to be the strongest being in the world if I am to kill my enemies," said Maul with the man simple smirking.
"A man agrees. After all, if you are to be King one day, you must be strong," said the man while he led Maul to the rooms where Faceless Men and Waifs stayed.
(Winterfell-Sometime Later)
Ned Stark was not happy. He had not been happy for a long time. Though given his history with life, it was to be expected given what was lost against what was gained. He gained the right to rule over the North. The loss? His Father, brother, and sister. The latter gave him a nephew, who he claimed as his own bastard son. He had the love and admiration of the North. The loss? His wife's love for him when the topic of his "bastard son" came up. For years, the Lord of Winterfell tried to help his wife get over the hatred she felt for the boy. To calm her fears and beliefs that Jon would one day usurp their son of his rightful place in ruling Winterfell one day.
Sadly, his wife did not believe him, or that Jon was anything but evil.
When he came home from the Greyjoy Rebellion, the Lord of Winterfell was greeted by his lady wife, his children, and servants who were all pleased to see him return from the war. They were all happy to see him return and rule over the North once more and Lord Stark returned said happiness. But the joy soon turned to shock and sorrow when he learned Jon was not there. Not only was he not in the castle, but the boy was possibly not in the North. Demanding an explanation, Cat had told him how she overheard Jon talking to himself, muttering about how he planned to remove Robb as heir without anyone being the wiser. How she tried to stop him from carrying out the plot and the boy ran in the dead of night over being caught by castle guards.
Some may call Ned a naïve honorable fool at times, but he wasn't stupid in the ways of knowing people, and he knew the boy did not talk to himself. Ned knew Jon would never conspire against Robb nor seek to take Winterfell for himself.
But the Iron Throne, is another matter, isn't it? Who else could possibly challenge Robert's right to rule or his heirs for that matter? If the Tyrells knew, they would use him to get what they want. And what of the North? They would never side with anyone opposing Lyanna's boy should he wish to push his claim. Not even you.
Ned quickly banished those thoughts from his mind. Jon didn't need to know the truth about his actual parentage and the ugliness behind it all that led to a war based on a lie. The truth about Prince Rheagar and Ned's own sister Lyanna Stark being married in secret instead of her marrying his brother by choice, Robert Baratheon. How everyone believed the lie that Lyanna had been kidnapped and raped by Prince Rheagar. How Robert used it as a rallying cry to unite against the dragons and bring them down so he could rule in their place.
It didn't help the Mad King lived up to his name by killing people by burning them alive. Ned's Father and older brother being among those poor souls who died on the orders of the Targaryen. It did much to sway the populace into believing Rheagar was just like his Father.
It was why Ned intended to secretly convince Jon to become interested in the Night's Watch and join it when old enough. It would protect everyone and everything Ned had left from being harmed should the truth come to light. Robert nor Tywin could touch Jon. Neither could anyone in Dorne should they seek to end him for what they would believe was a betrayal to their Princess. The Tyrells would be unable to use Jon for their plans to put one of their own on the Iron Throne through marriage. Even Ned's foster Father would be powerless to use the boy to his advantage should Robert's rule in the future still be put into question.
More importantly, deep within Ned's heart, ignoring the image of his sister Lyanna yelling at him for his stupidity, Jon himself would be unable to claim the right to take the Iron Throne. There was always a part of him that blamed his sister for falling in love with the dragon prince. How she should have done her duty and just married Robert. He knew she didn't love Robert or approve of the arranged marriage setup by their Father. But Ned knew life wasn't fair and sometimes we had to work with the tools the Gods gave them and accept things regardless of our dislike for them. When Lyanna told him the truth and how she loved Rheagar and not Robert, the betrayal of it all, the war built on a lie was almost too much for him. When he made the promise to his sister, it was in a daze, a mind numbing one, and a plan had to be forged to protect the boy while preventing another war from breaking out.
So, for the sake of peace, Ned claimed the boy as his bastard. Ned swore that he would protect the boy, but also make sure the dragon never returned to the Iron Throne. Even if the dragon was of his blood on his sister's side. The dragon had lost the right to rule. Robert had taken it through right of conquest and Ned wasn't about to see the Stag lose the throne the same way the dragon's did. Ned knew if his sister had seen how Jon was raised, the promise perverted in her eyes, she would somehow return from the grave to smack some Northern sense into him.
Only now, it was coming apart with Jon gone. Missing. Possibly dead. His sister's face angry and yelling at him for failing to keep her promise when he slept. Failing to protect Jon and raise him right. Failing to acknowledge that his way of doing things was wrong and not of the North. How he had been turned into some deformed wolf with antlers of a stage and tiny wings of a falcon.
He had to ask Maester Luwin for a powerful tonic to remove the headache that wanted to crack his head open from it all.
And it wasn't only Ned who felt the loss of Jon. His son Robb was also feeling it. The only reason Robb had not told his Father outright was due to the joy of Ned's return from the war. Sansa had felt some measure of sadness in the loss of Jon, but the girl's mother had made sure her beliefs regarding bastards being deceitful lying creatures had started to take root. Arya had been in bad mood despite her Father's return since what memory she had of Jon was a blur in some parts, but the girl did have some kind of connection to Jon regardless of how fleeting.
Maester Luwin had been calm and collected, as always when it came to being a Maester, but it was clear the loss of Jon was a blow to his heart too. The learned man from the Citadel had been specific about on the things that had happened during his time away from fighting in the Greyjoy Rebellion. How Cat had given Jon extra chores every day to the point of exhaustion, adding more and more until the boy barely had any strength to get out of bed in the morning. Ned suspected it was Cat's attempt to not only keep Jon away from Robb so there would be no special bond between them like Ned wanted, but to give Cat an excuse to punish Jon or kick the boy out of the castle for failure to do his assigned chores.
(Winterfell-Ned's Solar)
"Tell me again Cat. Tell me what happened with Jon," said Ned while watching his wife look at him with a stiffness when sitting across from in a way that a statue would be jealous.
Even more so when Jon was brought up.
"Why does it matter? The bastard is no longer here. He's gone," replied Cat while hoping to avoid the conversation and let the memory of the boy die with him.
She had been nervous when her man responsible for watching the bastard die had not returned yet and it grew with each day when the man didn't come back. Had the bastard survived? Did he somehow kill the man she posted to watch him die? Was he coming back to kill her? Was he already waiting here in the castle to appear and tell her husband what she had done?
She had discreetly had the guards doubled and ordered them to keep an eye out of the bastard with orders to have him detained until further notice. Cat didn't tell them the reason and only told guards to do as they were commanded by her due to being their Lord's wife. It didn't matter to her if they were uncomfortable doing such a thing to the bastard. In the South, the knights and bannermen were given orders and obeyed without question. She intended for the North to do the same and accept that there would be changed coming here. Southern traditions would replace Northern ones. The Weirwood was going to be ripped out root and stem with the land being redon to make way for a proper Sept for the Seven to take over as the proper religion.
Even now, the North seemed to grow colder when walking outside. As if the Old Gods themselves had sensed her intentions to remove them from power and making it clear they would not stand for it.
Cat's vision for the North under her leadership until Robb was ready to rule the Kingdom through her own influence would have come along nicely if it weren't for the simple fact her husband had come back from the Greyjoy Rebellion alive! While she was happy her husband had returned home alive and very much healthy, this created complications for her version of the North to act just like the other Seven Kingdoms. While the project itself was more her Father's idea and even Jon Arryn to a certain extent, they had charged Cat with the task of using her position as Ned's wife to influence the North to follow the true faith and not the heathen ones of old.
Unfortunately, the North had not been so welcome to her or the beliefs she held. The North was cold and wild. Untamable they said. You couldn't challenge it from without. It had to be changed from within and even that was a stretch. It would possibly take two or three generations of applied pressure after she was gone to make the required change to the North, but the seed would be planted though her son, and his children once the time came to arrange a marriage with a Southern lady like herself to further influence the necessary customs needed for the future.
Only for Cat's husband to come back and once more derail the side project assigned to her to finally help in turning the North to a more civilized age.
"Aye, he is gone. Dying or dead. Or lost in the forests of the North. Most likely starving and cold. Maybe he's been captured by a group of bandits or even Wildlings. But the simple fact Jon is not here, safe in the walls of Winterfell is not by his own choice, is it Cat? You did something to force him away. What did you do?" demanded Ned coldly while Cat's hand's gripped her dress tightly.
"I don't know what you mean Ned. The bas-boy ran after I caught him talking to himself. He was saying horrible things about usurping Robb of his position as heir to Winterfell. He spoke of the horrible things that would be done to Sansa and Arya. Do you expect me to sit back and do nothing? Risk our children?" countered Cat while Ned scowled deeper.
"And you expect me to believe that? Do you believe your own lies about Jon?!" demanded Ned while Cat became angry, and it showed on her face.
"I am not lying Ned! The bastard has been scheming and plotting to take Winterfell and the North from Robb! He has improved so much and showing signs of being better at being a future ruler over your own son and heir!" exclaimed Cat while believing bastards and those like them were not meant to be smart or hold any titles with positions of power.
They deserved to be lower than the dirt beneath her feet. Lower than the worms that went through it. The Seven preached that bastards were liars, manipulators, schemers, and sin filled beasts that needed to be kept low to ensure they never rose beyond their station. Ned didn't realize that fact. The North did not seem to realize that fact. By the Seven, the North was more welcome to Jon over her, and she was Ned's wife! The North itself seemed to be more friendly to her husband's bastard over the wife of said husband!
She had to do something to protect the order of things. To protect the beliefs that she grew up believing as a little girl, from her Septa and the Septon when learning to be a lady. Cat had to remove the stain on her husband's honor and the threat to her son before the bastard could raise a force capable of taking what did not belong to him.
"You think yourself so clever Cat, as to speak as if what you say is true based on your own baseless fears about Jon. I asked the servants. I asked the guards. I asked Maester Luwin. Do you know what they told me, Cat? Or are you going to finally speak the truth?" asked Ned while Cat's hands tightened further on her dress, and tears of anger fell from her eyes knowing the actions taken prior to killing the bastard were known to him.
"I will not apologize for protecting my son or his position as your heir Ned. I won't!" stated Cat firmly, as she stared back at her husband.
"Your fears of what Jon might or might not do when older are unfounded Cat. I was planning to convince Jon to join the Night's Watch or set him up in a small keep. Maybe even foster him with one of the other Northern Lords for a time. But you couldn't stand the idea of Jon having a single shred of happiness or a place to call his own outside of Winterfell," said Ned with Cat standing up from her chair in anger.
"He is a bastard Ned! Bastards have no place in a castle or keep. They are tricksters and liars all. The idea of him living here or given his own keep in the future is unacceptable to me. I do not care if the bastard went to the Night's Watch, but I could not tolerate him being here until that time!" stated Cat while Ned rose from his chair with his own anger showing.
"And it was not your decision to make Cat. He is my son! My boy! It was my duty to help decide how he should go about his life when old enough. And now, because of your actions, Jon is either dead or worse within the vast lands of the North," replied Ned with his voice nearly shaking the room and silencing the woman once more.
"I stand by my decision Ned. Nothing you say or do will change that. I will not feel guilt over wanting the bastard dead," said Cat while Ned's eyes were filled with cold fury.
"You are fortunate to be the Mother of my children Cat. If Brandon were here, you would be sent back to Riverrun. If it weren't for the fact my children need their Mother, I would send you back without a second thought. But I am not so cruel. Nor shall I be cruel. But know this, our time together will not be warm and welcome for a long time," said Ned while Cat flinched at his words and knew them to be true.
While Ned was known as the Quiet Wolf and Lyanna the She-Wolf, Brandon Stark was known by many as the Wild Wolf with a fierce temper to match. Had it not been for Cat's last-minute intervention at Riverrun years ago, her poor friend Petyr Baelish would have been killed on the spot. Brandon's temper and skill with a blade made him extremely dangerous to anyone who crossed him. Unfortunately, his temper over what happened to his sister and Prince Rheagar had resulted in him acting rashly, and this ultimately led to his death.
And while Ned was more levelheaded of his family members, it did not mean his temper was any less dangerous when unleashed. It just took time to come out since the man had seen what acting rashly had done to his family members and chose to be the opposite yet keep his temper in reserve for the right moment.
And unfortunately for Cat, the moment when Ned used said temper was now.
"I understand husband," said Cat while not meeting his gaze which had forced hers into submission.
"You understand nothing Cat. Nothing! But rest assured, my time back home will be an educational one for you, Robb, Sansa, Arya, and our hostage Theon Greyjoy. Make no mistake, my word in Winterfell and the North is law so long as I am alive and its Warden. Something I intend for everyone to remember in the coming days," said Ned coldly before dismissing Cat from the room.
Only for Maester Luwin to come in next.
"Lord Stark," said Maester Luwin before bowing his head.
"Any news about Jon?" asked Ned with Maester Luwin shaking his head no.
"I'm afraid not my Lord. Ser Rodrick has scouted some potential areas where Jon could have gone if he fled. The only thing worth noting is a corpse deep in the forest. It was buried in the snow while only cloth and bones remained. Fortunately, my examination revealed what was left belonged to a full-grown man and not a boy.
"Anything else about the body?" asked Ned while slightly glad it was not Jon's body they found.
"No, my Lord. As I said, the remains consisted of bones and some clothing. It was impossible to identify him from what I could examine," said Maester Luwin while Ned nodded and thinking things over in his mind.
"Thank you Maester Luwin. Leave me to my work. I have much to do now that I have returned home," said Ned while Maester Luwin bowed and left.
Promise me Ned! Promise me! Protect him, Ned. Protect him from Robert. From Tywin. Love him as your own.
Slamming his fists down hard on his desk, Ned Stark growled in anger at his inability to save his sister or keep her son safe.
(Braavos-Three Years Later)
A blindfolded Maul spun his staff slightly. His feet moving slowly, yet smoothly across the small square arena floor. His fellow Waif gauging him carefully. Maul could sense his opponent's fear knowing this would be the two hundredth's time they fought each other. Each time leading up to this, Maul had won with ruthless precision and ferocity, constantly testing himself with different handicaps to go beyond the normal limitations the body possessed.
Even by the standards of the Faceless Men, the young boy had done wonders in training himself to be so dangerous.
The boy formerly known as Jon Snow had changed drastically since arriving in Braavos. His build was lean and strong. Showing to be athletic and proving himself to have nearly unnatural agility, Maul had used his memories of skills from another place and another time. The former Snow recalled memories of the spirit which had entered his body and saved him in the North. Memories of the pain, the hate, and the suffering gone into forging a ruthless warrior who could take on powerful foes, only to come out on top no matter the odds.
A survivor in the chaos that came his way.
The only problem now was obtaining that physical strength again. Various memories of combat prowess and actually fighting were too different things. In addition, not all the memories the former bastard of the North had obtained were clear. They were blurs, wild images at time, and sometimes there was no image at all. Just the feeling of moving and fighting, but never seeing the actual opponent. He could only call it instinct and let the sensation of the Force as he knew it from the spirit's memories guide him to making himself a ruthless warrior worthy of both Houses his bloodline held.
And he was finally ready for more beyond the House of Black and White.
As evident by the poor Waif on the ground of the small arena, beaten bloody, bruised, and in need of a healer to fix the broken arm Maul hit with the staff.
"A man is impressed," said the smiling man watching Maul remove the blindfold from his face.
"A man appreciates the compliment," said Maul while throwing the staff to a nearby Waif.
"You wish to leave and explore the world," remarked the smiling man.
"I have much to do. I must reclaim what is mine. I trust my payment is suitable?" asked Maul while the smiling man nodded.
"The Many Face God is pleased. What you have given will not be forgotten," said the smiling man with Maul nodding.
"Valar Morghulis," said Maul to the smiling man who merely bowed his head slightly.
"Valar Dohaeris," said the smiling man with Maul leaving the room.
(Essos-Free City of Meereen-Six Months Later)
Maul walked into the arena fighting pit, the crowd cheering as he walked out for the spectators to see his dark robe and cloaked form. They cheered him, screamed his name, and eager to see blood spilled by his hands for all to see. He had come to Meereen within a month of leaving Braavos, found a handler along the way to sponsor him in the fighting pits leading up to coming here. Many warriors had come to challenge him in the fighting pits, not believing a boy so young could move in the arena with a spear and move in a way some said was not unlike the Red Viper Prince Oberyn himself.
The only difference was Maul modified his spear to have a blade on both ends for twice the aggressive swing and if it were ever broken down the middle, he could use each half when fighting. Fortunately, no one had been able to do that or best Maul in a fight during his time in the pits. Many fell to his skill, his weapon, and ruthless passion to kill any who stood in his way. Those slain by his hands were not mere fighters from all over the world. No. He had images within his mind project over his targets when in the fighting pits. Maul saw the Usurper Robert Baratheon. He saw Tywin Lannister. He saw Gregor Clegane and Armory Lorch. He saw Holster Tully and Jon Arryn. He saw the Order of Maesters and High Septons of the Seven Faith.
Enemies of the dragon. Enemies of his family. Enemies he intended to kill!
"Ready to die little boy?" remarked one man with scars all over his bare chest and arms while wearing a large fur loin cloth.
"Says the little man who is about to have his torso sliced open and his organs as a result," commented Maul coldly while spinning his spear once in a circle.
"You can try child. But you will find we are not so easily defeated," said a swordsman from Braavos with his rapier sword in hand.
"Neither am I," said Maul while scanning his other opponents around him.
A few slaves. Some new to this. Some more experienced. Some of the slaves were nervous and pissing themselves. They would be the first to fall. Some of the slaves were more determined to live past today and Maul could give them some measure of respect given their desire to survive. Some of the people in this arena were sell swords and here to risk their lives for a lot of coin.
And if the rumor was true, make some more coin in secret by taking his head. Maul had done very well in the fighting pits. Made his sponsor more coin in four moons than anyone thought possible. No one expected a young boy such as himself to survive in the fighting pits, much less win one fight in them. But Maul did, and he showed everyone what happened when you challenged him in a test of skill.
Just like now.
The Wise Masters of Meereen had seen him fight quite a few times. Most lost a tidy sum when betting against him. Some had tried to rig future fights against the boy in their favor. Only to lose more of their coin in the process. Some of them had tried covert means of removing him early on. Poisoning his food and drinks before a fight. Assassins aimed at killing him days before he was to fight in the arena. Some even hired women to seduce Maul in the hopes of getting his guard down so they said women could kill the boy.
In the end, they all failed.
Fortunately, for the Wise Masters of Meereen who despised Maul for his constant victories, the boy was leaving this Free City and traveling elsewhere. He had made a name for himself already during his time in the fighting pits here and felt there was nothing left for him. His handler was already stupidly wealthy now because of him and was fine with them parting on good terms.
Besides, the man was starting to feel the pressure from the angry Wise Masters and wanted to leave to be back in his homeland with said wealth before anyone tried to kill him for it.
Focusing on the arena grounds around him one more time, Maul heard the clap of the Wise Master to signify the start of the fighting. It was in that instant that most of the fighter, as well as those who were not and force to fight, engaged him in battle. Maul snarled angrily since he sensed the smugness of the Wise Master's through the Force. They had decided to rig the match where the majority went after him in the hopes of killing the boy one final time in a "legal setting" where no one could protest.
Fools. Bloody fools, the lot of them.
Speaking of bloody…
Maul moved with a purpose. His weapon cutting through one fighter after the next. His footwork perfect in every sense of the word. What he didn't slash, was stabbed. What wasn't stabbed, was slashed. What he didn't stabbed or slashed, was kicked or punched with enough power behind each hit sending each of his targets flying roughly twenty feet.
And Maul loved every second of it.
When it was over, his opponents were either dead, dying, or severely injured with the crowd chanting his name for all of Essos to hear.
MAUL!
MAUL!
MAUL!
MAUL!
MAUL!
Giving an exaggerated bow, which the crowd loved (most of them anyway), the young warrior walked out of the fighting pit arena. The men cheering, the women swooning over him despite his age being on the younger side, and the children wishing to be like him while imitating his fighting style in their own way. Unfortunately, the mood he was in turned sour when the path he was on was closed off and was surrounded by men with weapons and few Wise Masters.
"You have cost quite a bit of coin Maul. The idea of leaving Meereen wealthy and happy is an insult to us," said one of the Wise Masters with piercings around his eyebrows and on between his lips and chin.
"Considering you bet against me during my time in the fighting pits, is it any wonder you lost your coin when I came out of it victorious?" asked Maul with the Wise Master frowning at him.
"You do not have the right to dictate things to us boy. We are highborn through and through. Our blood line is of the highest quality. You are lower than the desert sands of the Red Wastes," said a second Wise Master with several tattoo designs on his hands and face.
"If being highborn means acting like all of you, I would rather be a bastard. None of you knows what it is like to work your hands raw for something. None of you here know what it is like to bleed. You say each of you are highborn, but in the end, all of the Wise Masters in Meereen are the weak ones. None of you have true power despite what you tell everyone," said Maul coldly while the Wise Masters in front of him looked insulted by his words.
"Kill him. Slowly," commanded the third Wise Master with piercings on both of his ears and fine jewelry on his fingers.
"I take it my handler is dead?" asked Maul casually while the men moved in to kill him.
"Yes. The wealth obtained from your victories will be taken to compensate us for past losses. Your life, however, is more of a personal nature for us. One which has to be corrected here and now," said the first Wise Master calmly while they waited for their hired help to kill Maul.
"I see. At the very least, killing you and these mindless sheep will not weigh heavily on my conscious," said Maul before he moved swiftly in disarming the nearest "sheep" of his sword before using it against him by putting the pointy end through the fool's throat.
Yanking it out and eyeing his various opponents, Maul snarled angrily at them, yet still smiled all the same with a small chuckle coming out of his mouth.
"And what do you find so funny boy? We have you surrounded," said one of the fools pointing his spear at Maul.
"You, have me surrounded? Oh no. You are sadly mistaken my naïve and foolish friends. You do not have me surrounded. It's the other way around. You just can't see it. Not until you meet your end," said Maul with a smirk before he was upon his enemy at speed none suspected him to possess for one so young.
The screams of men dying in the alley were drowned out by the cheers within the fighting pit arena.
With the last man dead, which happened to be one of the three Wise Masters, who had begged for his miserable life, Maul left the alley to collect his belongings and the wealth these fools stole from him.
He had important places to go. Locations to see and experience before returning home.
A home taken from him. A home that was wronged by the Usurper. A home that was violated by those who thought themselves far reaching for a prize they wanted but were unworthy to possess.
The Iron Throne and the power that came with it.
(King's Landing-Red Keep-Two Years Later)
Jon Arryn was not happy. He rarely was these days. The Greyjoy Rebellion was long over, and the Seven Kingdoms was healing nicely. Or as nicely as it could under Robert's rule. At the very least, it provided a means to silence those who disliked the stag wearing the crown over the dragon. Robert had not only won his rebellion but put down one against his own right to rule, which made many shut up when they thought him unfit for the crown.
'Not that they weren't right to complain,' thought Jon Arryn bitterly while knowing Robert's rule had been anything but calm once he took the Iron Throne.
Robert loved the trappings of power but none of the responsibility that came with it. He would spend his days drinking, hunting, and whoring with few being able to talk him out of one or all three. The man used the simple fact he was King, and everyone had to obey him. That everyone to fall in line with his way of doing things or the threat of head being put on pikes would be made. Jon had used his position as Hand of the King to direct things while Robert drowned himself in his vices that no one could talk him out of unless they wanted the man rant angrily with the threat of killing them.
And while Jon Arryn loved the trapping of power himself, the responsibilities of the King added to his own as Hand of the King were tiring on his increasingly old age. What's more, the crown was showing signs of being in the red. Seizing the Greyjoy's coffers and coin (and there was a lot of coin) had kept the crown out of the red. Adding the Lannisters were providing a steady sum into the crown also helped too, even if Jon suspected Tywin was doing it to buy political strength should he want to make a power play.
Not to mention the lingering threat of cutting off access to said coin if Robert were to dare say the word "no" to anything Tywin Lannister wanted from the crown should something catch the old lion's eyes.
Petyr Baelish had been tasked as the Master of Coin to keep the crown's finances in the black, but the man was unfortunately fighting a losing battle. Robert's vices were expensive and had one of these vices performed for him almost every day if not every other day. If it wasn't a feast, it was whores. If it wasn't whores, it was a feast. If something important came up, no matter the level, a tourney would be held in its honor and a massive reward went to the victor of the tourney.
A victor who was usually from one of the rich Houses in the West or South. Almost never from the North with the Vale winning few and in between depending on who participated.
But still, the gold dragons usually went to an already rich House and nothing Jon could do to change that painful fact. It was becoming a cycle that the Hand of the King could not break and was slowly becoming a common theme when tourneys were held at the King's command.
Things were so much easier fighting to bring down a King than controlling one. Of course, you knew this when plotting with the others to bring the Targaryens down, remember? Making sure certain truths were kept buried. The lies you spread and convincing everyone the son was like his Father regarding the madness.
Jon banished the nagging thought of his conscious away while focusing on the tasks at hand in front of him, but with increasing difficulty. Robert's Rebellion had been the key needed to claim the Iron Throne and rule through his foster son. To finally fly higher than the dragon while in a seat of nearly unlimited power. It had been a gamble of course. Gathering allies. Arranging strong political marriages to unite the various Houses together when the time came to begin their war. The Riverlands, the Vale, the North, and the Stormlands all fighting for the "noble cause" of bringing down the Mad King and his rapist for a Prince Rheagar.
Though the truth was far from that. Of this, Jon knew. Jon knew the truth of what happened between Prince Rheagar and Lyanna Stark. The man would never rape a woman. The Prince had seen his Father do enough of that with his Queen/wife/sister after seeing people being burned alive. Still, it wasn't hard to spread rumors of the Prince doing that to Lyanna Stark, despite it being a lie. With the Mad King being one, it wasn't hard for people to believe the Prince had become one too.
One of the reasons Jon knew differently, was Lyanna Stark would never allow such a thing to happen to her. The she-wolf would have never been captured without it going unnoticed for so long or let anyone violate her unless they wanted their cock and balls cut off. Jon suspected something was going on he had yet to see when word reached him of Elia Martell not being upset with Rheagar, but rather the Mad King himself for not letting her leave for Dorne.
Even now, Jon suspected there was more to those moments than he knew from those times during the start of the rebellion.
'Old ghosts nagging at my heels when I should be focusing on the demons of the present,' thought Jon to himself with a sigh while trying to do his work.
And ignoring the sudden cold chill worthy of the North crawling up his spine. One that seemed to tell the old man something was coming, and it would not be pleasant.
(Essos-Volantis-Six Months Later)
Maul walked among the crowds, his dark robes and hood masking his form. His presence when walking through the streets made people get out of his way both voluntarily and involuntarily. Nothing he could not handle with the city being filled with merchants, slaves, whores, guards, and nobles found in just about any place within one of the Free Cities of Essos. Everyone here had a purpose. Whether it was good or bad did not matter. Everyone here was a master or servant. The latter outnumbered the former in many aspects of life here in Essos. One way or another, someone here served another in some shape or form.
As for Maul being here in Volantis, his purpose was twofold. First, he needed to seek the best blacksmith in the entire city. A weapon that kept appearing in his mind over and over again. Second, he needed to seek an Ink Master. Only the absolute best Volantis had to offer. The most professional and skilled of Ink Masters would do for Maul given what he wanted to be done to his body. He wanted to do something so grand, so epic, and so terrifying in appearance that all would know who he was when looking upon his form.
Entering one of the shops, the Force whispered into his ear that this was the best place to find objective number one, and Maul found himself in a store that had little to do with making weapons. It was one filled with maps, sea charts, and building designs of all types. Following the whispers, Maul stopped at one sea charts that showed him a passage to the ancient homeland of his bloodline that was Valyria.
Come here. Come to us. Come home. Learn your heritage. Gain what was lost.
Taking the sea chart, Maul paid the man for what it was worth, even if the store's seller tried to tell him it was just a waste to buy despite the asking price of 50 gold dragons. Regardless of the man's stupidity in trying to get him to ignore the item and buy something (that was more expensive) else in the process, Maul still claimed what he wanted. All that was left to do for this was buy a ship meant for himself and sail to his destination.
But first, he needed to seek out an Ink Master. One who could do what was required of someone with such skill to do a job Maul felt no other could do.
And surprisingly, the man he needed was not in Volantis. But rather outside of the city living in a small hut large enough to hold two, maybe three people. When Maul rode there on horseback, the boy was surprised to learn the Ink Master he was looking for had stayed outside of the city over living in it. When asking the people why, they told him the man was not a people person by nature and preferred to live a sense of solitude unless approached by a customer worthy of his skills.
Considering the man had his clients come to him regardless of the location, the Ink Master here had to be of considerable skill. Which was perfect for Maul since he wanted privacy for the work that had to be done. He needed to transform. He needed to change. He needed to become something no one in the Seven Kingdoms, Braavos, or Essos had ever seen before today.
"Are you Ink Master Yam Hotch Tanith?" asked Maul after entering the hut and saw the man eating a meal casually without caring some had entered his hut.
"You already know the answer boy. So why ask the question?" asked Yam Hotch Tanith while biting into his meal again without even looking up at Maul.
Ink Master Yam Hotch Tanith was on the elderly side. His skin was tan and leathered. His body also inked in different designs on his face, hands, and most likely from Maul's deduction of the man, on other parts of his body. No doubt put there by the man's own Ink Master for a teacher many years ago when this man was young. His teeth were slightly yellow, some had even fallen out. Maul could see the life of this man would no doubt last for another ten to fifteen years.
"I also heard you are best Ink Master in Volantis. Maybe all of Essos itself," continued Maul casually and ignored the verbal jab.
"Again, you are stating something we both know is fact. So why repeat? Flattery means nothing to me," said Yam Hotch Tanith with Maul taking out a parchment.
"I'm not flattering you. I'm stating a fact because such facts should be stated. Or are you going to refute that too?" asked Maul with the man grunted while eating his meal.
"You didn't come here to discuss philosophy with me. No, you came here to hire me for my skills as an Ink Master," said Yam Hotch Tanith with Maul smirking.
"Now who is stating facts we both know are true?" countered Maul with the man grunting at his own words being used against him.
"So, what can I make for someone such as yourself?" asked Yam Hotch Tanith with Maul sitting down across from him.
"I'm here to provide you a challenge. One worthy of your skill. I need you to ink my body and not just a single piece of it like one my hands or a part of my face. I'm talking about my entire body. Head to toe. Front to back," said Maul with the Ink Master in front of him looking slightly interested now.
"There are few who have ever wished for such things. Even fewer who could endure the pain it would cause given certain areas of the body are more…sensitive over others," said Yam Hotch Tanith while he accepted the parchment Maul gave him and unrolled it.
"True. But I am no stranger to extreme pain. We are old acquaintances and I wish to meet it once more after so long. The question is, can you arrange the meeting?" asked Maul with the Ink Master looking over the designs drawn on the parchment with critical and skilled eyes.
"Interesting designs you've drawn up here. Both front and back. I can see why you sought me out for this task. Only someone of my skill could do it perfectly," said Yam Hotch Tanith with his fingers tracing over the drawing and studying the overall design in front of him carefully.
"Are you up to the challenge?" asked Maul with the Ink Master grunting.
"You wouldn't be here if I weren't boy. Still, such a project is not cheap," said Yam Hotch Tanith with Maul nodding and produced a small pouch of gold dragons before throwing it into the man's lap.
"Half now. Half upon completion," said Maul with the Ink Master nodding.
"I'll need time to prepare things on my end before we can proceed," said Yam Hotch Tanith and saw Maul nod since he expected as much.
"That will be fine with me considering I will be on a trip for a few moons and won't be back for some time," said Maul before he got up from his sitting position to leave.
"And where would you be going that it would take priority over this?" asked Yam Hotch Tanith curiously with Maul smirking.
"Valyria. The home of my ancestors," said Maul before he left the now shocked Ink Master to digest this piece of information.
"Of course. That is why he wants the ink to be red and black. Colors of House Targaryen. The Prince that was promised. Fire and blood," whispered Yam Hotch Tanith to himself while piecing things together.
(King's Landing-Some Years Later)
Until recently, King Robert Baratheon was enjoying himself. Being a King had its perks after all. Plenty of food, good wine, and women he could have without anyone telling him no. Not Jon Arryn. Not the Small Council. Not even his brother by choice Ned Stark could persuade him from enjoying his vices. Oh, they tried to curb his vices during his younger years growing up and fostering with the old falcon during his time in the Vale. But Robert was not one to be restrained by anyone and proved it when people tried to tell him no before and after becoming King. Especially when he became the King and made it known his word was law.
And yet, the feeling of being King never really filled the empty hole in his heart. In his mind. In his very being. He had everything a man could ask as a King, yet the one thing, or rather the one person he had waned by his side was not here. She was the only woman he ever wanted in life. She was a woman who would have been his wife and been a mother to their future sons and daughters. Binding his House to Ned's had that damn dragon not gotten in the way.
Lyanna Stark. Ned's sister. His betrothed. His future wife. His everything!
But she was never yours Robert. She didn't love you. She never loved you. You can't even remember what she looks like anymore.
And like that, his good mood was destroyed.
He knew Lyanna didn't love him. Ned's brother Benjen Stark said as much. The legendary Sword of the Morning Ser Arthur Dayne said as much leading up to the tourney at Harrenhal. Ser Barristan too when he saw the man during that time. But Robert ignored them all. Jealous men. That's what they were, or at least according to his Foster Father. They were jealous he was going to marry the She-wolf of the North while they were unable to have her due to their fucking vows, duties, or were Lyanna's overprotective kin.
At least Ned came to his defense when pursuing his future wife. Saying Lyanna would do her duty when the time came and not to worry. That she was of the North and things were done differently there over the South. It had calmed the Baratheon down a bit, but the calmness was soon ruined when the fucking dragon made himself known during that time. The silver haired cunt would sing, playing his fucking harp, and making all the women around him swoon to the shit he sang for them.
Robert's blood boiled when he recalled the image of Rheagar proclaiming Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty at the tourney. Moving right past his own wife, right in front of everyone there and placing it on the woman who would be Robert's future wife. It had enraged the Baratheon so much he nearly started his rebellion right there on the spot. Strangely enough, at the time, Jon Arryn had stayed his hand, and even told him a few simple words that confused Robert when the old falcon spoke them.
Not now Robert. One day soon, you will have your chance. We will all have our chance.
Robert didn't know what the old falcon meant by that at first, but it soon became apparent when word of Lyanna being taken by Rheagar, followed by Rickon and Brandon Stark being killed by the Mad King. Robert was all for it, given the slight he felt at the time by Rheagar for taking Lyanna from him, not to mention most of the Seven Kingdoms had been moved to their side of things.
Despite the rebellion being made on a lie.
Robert knew it was lie before the Trident. He even suspected there was more to things when the war broke out to take the dragons down. But the truth wasn't confirmed until a few days before the battle and message had been sent to him with Lyanna's handwriting on it.
The message itself had been damaging. Her confession of not loving him. How she loved Rheagar. How she was pleading with him in that moment to stop this rebellion. That if Robert ever loved her at all, he would stop this madness of war before its conclusion. To reveal the truth to Ned about her and Rheagar while coming clean with the other Lords on his side.
For a brief moment, Robert had actually considered her words. Considered her wishes. Her wants. Her desire for peace, even if she wasn't with him in the end.
Only for that last part to send him into a rage. He could not accept Lyanna with anyone else but him. Not the dragon. Not the bard Prince. Not that fucking harp playing, song singing, silver haired cunt. He still remembered stuffing the parchment into his armor, walking over to see Jon Arryn in his own tent, the old falcon clearing it to speak to the man privately, and how he broke down like some crying whore of a woman in front of his foster father. How the man told him to burn the letter, but Robert lied and told him it was already done. He couldn't part with it. The letter was a reminder of Lyanna. It was a reminder of what was taken from him and what should have been his wife now was claimed by the fucking silver haired dragon cunt.
She is playing hard to get Robert. She is a She-wolf of the North. Ned told you women of the North are not so easily tamed. Once this war is over, you will have her back, regardless of the condition, and will be married as your Queen once Rheagar is killed at the Trident.
But what if she is with his child Jon? What if that rapist planted his seed in her and she is with child? My Lyanna with that fucking dragon cunt's child in her womb?!
The child won't live past its first nameday. We can arrange it to die before being born Robert. There are ways to do it. Afterwards, you will wed to Lyanna in the Light of the Seven faith, help her move past the dragon, and convince her to become your Queen. Any rumor of her being raped by Prince Rheagar will be silenced by us after confirming she wasn't by a Maester of our choosing to do the "examination" of the woman. Once you are King, you can do whatever you want, and no one will be able to stop you.
And sure enough, Robert had won at the Trident. Smashing Rheagar's chest plate with his hammer and making the man die a painful death. It was even more satisfying knowing his stupid cousin showed him mercy when he clearly had Robert beat during the fighting. The only reason Robert won against Rheagar was due to the sudden throwing of some dirt in the Prince's face in a last-ditch effort to pry victory from the jaws of defeat.
'I claimed the Iron Throne but lost the Queen I wanted sitting by my side,' thought Robert while nearly crushing the wine glass in his hand after hearing how Lyanna died in Dorne from fever.
Where was the Maester? Why had Rheagar not left a Maester with Lyanna to ensure she stayed healthy during her time with the Prince? It was one of the things that baffled Robert since he was sure Rheagar would make sure someone watched over the woman aside from some of the Kingsguard It had baffled Jon Arryn too and several others, but no one had an explanation.
And the only one who could answer was dead by Robert's own hands.
"Robert?" asked Jon while seeing his former foster son focusing back on the meeting in front of him that the older man nagged him into attending.
"Yes. What is it now Jon? I have more important things to do," remarked Robert while Jon sighed since he knew exactly what those "important things" were.
Mostly consisting of drinking too much wine and fucking whores Littlefinger provided him at a discount.
"We need to go over the crown's finances. This is something we can no longer afford to ignore," said Jon while Robert grunted in disgust.
"Counting coppers. Bah! Just have our Master of Coin handle things like usual," commented Robert lazily while almost wishing to make it an order but knew Jon would not let him if the look the old falcon was giving him was any indication.
"We have Robert. Unfortunately, our finances since the Greyjoy Rebellion have gone down considerably and our debts are starting to pile up," said Jon with Robert making another noise of annoyance.
"I thought we pilfered the shit out of the squids and their coffers in order to hold us long after putting them under my boot," said Robert in confusion since he had damn made sure the Greyjoys paid their "iron price" one way or the other.
"We did your Grace. But running a kingdom is expensive. Much less all Seven of them. Different projects and business ventures come up that require lots of coin. Plus, to be honest your Grace, the amount we took from the Iron Born was not that much. There is a reason they raid, pillage, and rape the rest of the world of its wealth," said Petyr Baelish with his oily smile and voice.
"Bah! Just take out a loan or some shit. Take more from the Lannisters. They have plenty of gold and I married Tywin's daughter with a few Grandchildren to secure his bloodline to royalty. He can give more of his coin considering what I had to do to secure his legacy," said Robert offhandedly with Petyr smiling at the idea and glanced at Jon knowing the old falcon would go for it.
They were already bleeding Tywin for coin almost as quickly as the crown was losing. They knew the best way to hurt the old lion in the future was to bleed the man for all the gold could they get before the supply ran out. It had been there plan to weaken the other incredibly wealthy Houses so none of them could challenge Robert's rule with their coin. They had been trying to do it discreetly with the Tyrells, but the Queen of Thorns was not so easily fooled. Her oaf of a son yes. But until the old woman died of natural or unnatural causes, any chance of getting more from them was going to be a challenge.
She would only give them more if putting one of the roses on the Iron Throne through marriage was on the table. Something Robert would never allow given how the Tyrells supported the Targaryens during the rebellion. Jon Arryn agreed with the King on this, but it didn't mean they couldn't string the roses along until the crown bled them badly enough to remove the threat of wealth as a weapon being used against Robert in the future.
"We should also try to take more from the Tyrells your Grace. More coin means more funds. And more funds would also allow for more tourneys. Not to mention my ability to obtain more whores of exotic beauty and tastes befitting your greatness," said Petyr knowing full well how to play on the King's vices like a harp to get him to do things that he would usually say no to when called on.
"Bah! Damn flowers. I know what they want. A marriage tying them to the Iron Throne. One of mine and one of theirs. Never! I won't have it. Not with my heir, the spare, or any of my children. I forbid it Lord Baelish. The only House I want tied to mine is the one in the North and its name is Stark!" stated Robert with Petyr grimacing and so did Lord Arryn.
"There is one more thing your Grace. A peculiar thing my little birds heard all the way in Essos. A story of a young boy who has participated in the fighting pits throughout the Free Cities there. They say he is the Warrior reborn from the way he moves and how he killed his opponents with ease there with his unique weapon of choice," said Varys with Robert looking at his Master of Whispers.
"Oh, and why the fuck should I be interested in some boy from Essos, Spider?" asked Robert before he drank some wine.
"Because your Grace, my little birds tell me that this boy wishes to one day come to Westeros in order to kill you along with other influential people for the crimes committed against House Targaryen," said Varys, which made the King stop drinking and choke for a moment on his wine.
"Is this boy a damn fucking dragonspawn supporter? Or is this Viserys himself?" said Robert angrily with Varys shaking his head no.
"Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen are lost near Pentos and my birds say the boy in question has just left the Free City of Volantis some moons ago," said Varys while Robert glowered angrily.
"And you are just bringing this to my attention, why?" asked Robert with Varys shrugging.
"I only just heard the song your Grace. Essos is far and my birds can only fly so fast and sing so quickly," said Varys with Robert grumbled.
"Does this boy have a name?" asked Stannis curiously.
"Just a first name. His last name is unknown since he never speaks it. But from what my little birds have told me, they call him…Maul," said Varys with Robert grunted at the name since it sounded stupid to him.
"We should not take stock in a single boy being a threat to you Robert. The boy is only that. A boy with some misplaced anger over your rule as King. Possibly some bastard born well after the rebellion from a Targaryen supporter who had fled once your rule began and was told stories about you in order to keep such hatred alive. I doubt this one runt could pose a threat to your rule," said Stannis dismissively since he didn't believe a single boy could be a threat to his brother's rule.
"Even still, it should not be ignored. Even more so if he does return to carry out his threat of going after other people aside from his Grace. House Targaryen gained many enemies over the years and those who fought during the rebellion would be prime targets," said Grand Maester Pycelle worriedly since he also knew this possible threat could come after him.
He did let Tywin Lannister into King's Landing for the lion to sack it and had been secretly drugging the Mad King to make him even crazier to others so the man's death would bring more joy over grief. It was fortunate no one knew about that last part, not even Tywin Lannister, since the order to do that came from his brothers in the Citadel. They wanted the Targaryens brought low and had the Grand Maester use specific herbs that would cause the man to slowly lose his mind to the point where everyone would assume it was the madness everyone said the dragon's House was born with.
"If only that we could ignore it Lord Stannis. But there is one more complication you should be made aware of that cannot be ignored at this point," said Varys with a hint of nervousness in his voice, which was a rarity for those who knew him enough when having conversations.
"And what could be so important that the Spider shakes fearfully in his own webs?" mocked Renly with amusement and the King laughing at the jape aimed at the Spider's expense.
"If what my little birds have told me since they whispered their songs to me is in fact true, this one boy named Maul has apparently…hatched dragons. Three of them in fact. Using eggs, which he found within Valeria itself," said Varys with the room.
"WHAT?!" yelled Robert so loudly he could swear on the Mother that Ned heard him all the way in the North.
"T-That's not possible! There is no way this upstart could bring dragons back to the world. Dragons have been extinct for over a century. Any dragon eggs found would be turned to stone. Lifeless. For this boy to do the impossible would mean he is in fact…," said Grand Maester Pycelle before he glanced over at Robert.
"Targaryen. Yes, Grand Maester. This boy might in fact be Targaryen if his ability to hatch three dragons is indeed true," said Vary knowing how much the King hated that House name.
"Send assassins after him. Now! I don't care of the cost or expenses need to kill this upstart. I want him dead! I want his head removed from his body, so I piss on it myself!" declared Robert angrily with Varys looking more nervous.
"I'm afraid reaching him will take time your Grace. This supposed Targaryen has gained the attention of the High Priests and Priestesses of R'hllor. Some speak of him being their God's chosen. No one in Essos will dare help us in our endeavor to see this boy killed. Not even my contacts there can guarantee they will be able to help with this. There is also the issue of my little birds saying where this boy is heading now with those three dragons," said Varys with Robert snarling.
"And where is he heading Spider?" asked Jon Arryn curiously.
"If my information is correct? He is headed toward Yi Ti my Lord Hand. Though why there instead here I have no clue," said Varys with Robert frowning.
"Perhaps to recruit an army or that empire to his side. Not to mention it would give him a chance to stay somewhere that won't kill the dragons and let them grow to possiblely monstrous sizes," offered Renly in terms of ideas on why this possible Targaryen was going further East instead of West.
"Aegon the Conqueror took Westeros with only a few thousand men and his dragons. Imagine what this boy could do if he is allowed to have his dragons grow fully," warned Stannis knowing if even one of the dragons became as big, or Gods forbid, bigger than the Black Dread, they would be fucked.
"Sadly, I have no contacts in Yi Ti capable of helping us. Even if I did, I doubt any of them would seek to kill a dragon or the one capable of hatching them," added Varys while he imagined one of the dragons flying over the Red Keep and casting its shadow over them.
A terrifying thought.
"I don't care how far away this dragonspawn is Varys. I want him dead! I want his dragons dead! I want everything and everyone associated with him dead! Do you hear me?" said Robert to the point of near yelling at the bald man and was practically in his face about it.
"Yes, your Grace. I hear you loud and clear," replied Varys while wondering how he was going to make this happen given Yi Ti was not a place his little birds could move around without being noticed.
Yi Ti was a much different animal when compared to Westeros, Braavos, and the Free Cities of Essos in everything from culture to people. It was said their military's combat skills were some of the finest in the world. Rivaling even the Unsullied in terms of training and discipline. Not only did their army know how to wield deadly yet exotic weapons but they also trained in the art of using their entire bodies as a living weapon. Most people just use their fists and swing wildly in a fight, but the fighters of Yi Ti took the art of fighting with the body and turned it into an art. Training the body itself to take hits as well as unleash them on the enemy in front of you.
There was also the issue of the God Emperor of Yi Ti himself. If this boy made friends with him and had the backing of the faith of Essos on his side, none of the Spider's little birds would be successful in their task of gathering information. The people of Yi Ti were extremely loyal to their God Emperor and would do everything in their power to protect the man's interests while keeping an eye out for potential spies seeking information, they could use against said interests.
It would be quite the challenge for Varys to perform his task but one he would do in order to find out more about this possible Targaryen and what it meant for the Game of Thrones.
(A/N: YAY! I updated this one. I know what you are thinking, what happened in Valyria? What happened with the three dragons? What happened in Volantis? What happened with the Ink Master? What was happening in the North? Not to mention everything else that has been leading up to this Small Council meeting in King's Landing? The answer to those questions will be revealed in the next chapter. Until next time…PEACE!)