Of Storms and Shadows

by ol-11jrw

Selene Baratheon was not someone who accepted defeat, she was not someone who accepted surrender. Surrounded by enemies and with few allies she would show those that crossed her the meaning of the words 'Ours is the Fury.' Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Game of thrones

6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Raynald Sarwyck sighed. To say the last few months had not gone as planned would be a massive understatement. Not only was Rickard Lonmouth dead but Robert Baratheon and many of his key supporters had survived the battle. The only significant casualties on Baratheon's side was two members of the kingsguard, one killed in battle and the other sent to the Wall for cowardice.

Raynald groaned as he considered how the situation had developed. In many ways it was like a double edged sword. Some of his fellow loyalists were considering Lonmouth as a martyr who refused to support the tyranny of Robert Baratheon and his Lannister dogs, while others were now terrified about the fact that a loyalist lord had been killed before King Viserys had even crossed the Narrow Sea.

"You should really be more careful." A slick voice called, causing him to draw his sword and glare at the unwelcome guest. "If I was an assassin then I could have stuck a knife in your throat without you being any wiser."

"Spider," He snarled, "How did you get in my home?"

The man simply chuckled in response as he walked around him, completely unbothered by the sword pointed in her direction. "I would be a pretty poor Master of Whisperers if I couldn't infiltrate where I need to be."

Raynald made a mental note to interrogate some of the servants and less trustworthy guards in his employ in order to route out whoever Varys' spy in his ranks. "And tell me why I shouldn't just kill you traitor?" He questioned as he took a step forward, holding the blade to Varys throat.

Varys didn't appear bothered by the threat, on the contrary he actually seemed amused. "Come now, is that any way to treat a longtime friend and ally?"

"Friend! Ally! You betrayed Lonmouth, you betrayed us all." Raynald sneered, resisting the urge to cut down the treacherous master of whisperers where he stood.

"I warned you that attempting to kidnap the princess was an unnecessary risk that threatened exposure, yet the lot of you went ahead with the plan anyway." Varys countered. "As for being a traitor, I admit that I exposed Lonmouth to Robert Baratheon, but I also warned Lonmouth in advance and he agreed that it was necessary he stay behind to fight Baratheon. Or did you not find it odd that Lonmouth managed to send his family across the Narrow Sea to safety, or transport all valuables in his possession, preventing the Baratheons from looting his home. Now will you please lower your sword?"

Raynald barely managed to keep his surprise off his face at Varys' words, he hadn't been aware that Lonmouth had known about the failure of his plan beforehand. Rickard must have decided that it would be better to make a stand fighting in Westeros rather then running to Essos and being at risk to any assassin and sell sword who would go after him for the promise of gold.

Raynald reluctantly lowered his sword and he glared hatefully at Varys. "That doesn't mean I trust you Spider."

"That proves your not a fool." Varys smiled. "And I don't entirely trust your little group either. You have a level head but Lord Harlton is a hotheaded imbecile. I still remember his shortsighted attempt at poisoning the princess. It was only because of my ceaseless efforts that his actions didn't expose the lot of you." Varys warned him, losing his smirk as he glared at him.

Though despite showing anger, that action had greatly benefited Varys as it gave the leverage he needed to bring this little group of Targaryen loyalists under his control. Honestly the attempt by Arwood Harlton to kill Robert Baratheons children with poison was an incredibly shortsighted one. Even if it succeeded, which it didn't, such an action would only drive the realm to war before they were ready and seen this little group of Targaryen loyalists wiped out. As it was he'd already been forced to work overtime to make sure the rest of these blithering idiots hadn't been exposed due to Lonmouth, but details details. As it was, it could already be considered a miracle that the Dragon's Men as they called themselves (And truly could they not think of anything more original, Varys wondered) had yet to be discovered, but Varys knew that wouldn't last.

Already Lonmouth's actions had forced the Baratheons and Lannisters to take a much greater awareness of the continuing Targaryen loyalism within Westeros and were taking strides to eradicate it.

"I admit the plan was a bit foolish in hindsight," Raynald admitted with reluctance. The intention had been to ensure that Robert Baratheon never had any children on his Lannister wife, making Stannis the heir to the throne and putting Baratheon and Lannister at odds with each other. The recipe for a war that would weaken Westeros and allow King Viserys to defeat the victor in the hypothetical war and claim Westeros for his own. However the plan had failed, not only had the princess survived the poisoning but Cersei proceeded to give birth to another daughter and two sons, giving the Usurper both an heir and a spare, as well as two princesses to marry off to secure his reign.

"Foolish doesn't begin to describe it. As it was Rhaelle Baratheon has expended a lot of resources and effort in learning who poisoned Selene Baratheon, luckily by the time the princess was sent to Storm's End I had long since removed anything that could possibly link the poisoning to any of you." Varys warned… no threated would be more accurate way of describing it. Raynald wasn't blind to the fact that Varys could expose them whenever he wished, the eunuch had him by the balls and they both knew it.

"So why are you here? I can't imagine that it's just to say hello." Raynald questioned suspiciously.

Varys chuckled in response. "No I am not. I am here to warn you that you must participate in the grand hunt for bandits that the king has organised."

"Why? This is a prime opportunity to conserve our strength and let our enemies weaken themselves."

"Because conserving your strength is pointless is you are exposed, we are not in a position to make such risks. Plus this will give your soldiers some desperately needed combat expeirance." Varys explained the situation.

"Harlton will not like that." Raynald grimaced, truthfully, he didn't like it either. Wasting the lives of good and loyal men on Robert Baratheons orders.

"He doesn't have to like it, but if he wants his actions to remain hidden he'll do it." Varys warned. "All families that once fought for the Targaryens are being closely watched, no one is above suspicion after Lonmouth. Right now we need to be careful and smart."

"I will speak to Harlton and stress the importance on remaining hidden." He reluctantly informed Varys. He didn't like the eunuch, but that didn't mean the spymaster was wrong. "What news on King Viserys and princess Daenerys?"

"Right now they are currently being hosted in Myr by Prince Doran Martell."

"WHAT?" Raynald exclaimed in shock. "What are those snakes scheming now? They've certainly never lifted a finger to help the king in the past."

Varys merely tsked in response, though he didn't correct the mistakes in Raynald Sarwyck's beliefs. Better to let his allies think that he had been the one to protect the Targaryens over the last decade rather then the Martells, gods know that the Martell brothers had saved him considerable resources over the years with them being the ones to watch over and protect them. It allowed Varys to devote his attention to other more important aspects. It hadn't been hard to convince them of that fact, most of the people beyond the Dornish Marches had a low opinion of the Dornish and were quick to let prejudice blind them to the truth.

"Doran Martell seized an opportunity to meet the King and his sister." Varys explained. Doran Martell's actions had taken him by surprise, it was a surprisingly bold, not to mention risky move taken by the infamously cautious Dornish Prince. And from what his little birds had reported the man had learnt the extent of Viserys' illnature and had turned his attention towards Daenerys. "And he has clearly decided that the princess Daenerys is much more suited to his ambitions then the king. From what my little birds have uncovered he intends to abandon Viserys and crown Daenerys as queen, with one of his sons at her side."

"Oathbreaking scum." Raynald sneered, as his temper started to get the better of him. "Does he really think such an attempt would work, the people from that depraved kingdom might accept a woman in charge but the rest of the world is wiser, no one has forgotten Maegor with tits."

"Daenerys is young, naïve and above all, malleable. Whereas Viserys is a man grown and made cautious by years of exile. Of the two Daenerys is more valuable to the Martells ambitions. Daenerys may sit the Iron Throne but it will be the Martells who rule."

"We can't let that happen. Those Dornish scum kept the bulk of their forces in their wasteland of a home, while the rest of us fought and bled for the Targaryens." Raynald growled out. As a survivor of both the Battle of the Bells and Trident, he prided himself as a man who had fought for the Targaryens with every fibre of his being, the same certainly couldn't be said for the Dornish, despite Rhaegar's wife and children being Dornish, Doran Martell had been slow to give any kind of aid to the Targaryens during the war. 'Fifty thousand soldiers my ass, those cowards sent barely ten and they were made up of tired old me.' The Dornish in his mind had long since earned the enmity of him and his fellow true loyalists.

"And it won't." Varys amswered with a smile.

"And what do you intend to do about it?"

"Why I am going to do my solemn duty as Master of Whisperers and inform King Robert that one of his bannermen is plotting rebellion." Varys giggled as he spoke, the irony not lost on him.

"The plan had been to approach the Martells after the king had landed in Westeros with an army and had already conquered a few territories, allowing us to negotiate from a position of strength, preventing the Martells from turning the king into their pawn. But this, this might just be much more beneficial."

Indeed worst case scenario the Martells would lose a great deal of prestige and influence both among their bannermen and in the rest of Westeros, giving them less power to interfere with his plans. Best case scenario, Robert Baratheon and Oberyn Martell being the warmongers they were, the realm gets lodged into a new Dornish War. The end result being a greatly weakened Westeros ripe for the taking.

"And speaking of armies how is Connington's coming along with the Golden Company?" Raynald questioned.

"While there are a few obstacles, Connington has made considerable inroads in forming useful alliances among their ranks, soon they will fight alongside us."

"Hm, I still don't like it. Trying to conquer Westeros with Blackfyre supporters, the king could very well be laughed out of Westeros." Raynald stated his reservations with the plan.

Varys let out a genuine laugh in response to that. "Oh my dear lord Sarwyck, you shouldn't let such thoughts trouble you. Whether Black or Red a dragon is still a dragon. Not only that but King Viserys is as much of an exile as the Golden Company is and at the end of the day, all exiles want is to go home."

"Don't expect me to trust them." Raynald responded. "So what do you plan to do about Selene Baratheon?"

"For now we have no chose but to leave her be. With Lonmouth dead, we've lost one of our strongest allies in the Stormlands and we can't afford to risk the few we still have by targeting her, especially when we don't know the full extent of what she is capable of."

"We can't do nothing. Surely you heard about her demonstration in Storm's End, the heathen grows stronger every day, we wait to long and she'll be too powerful to stop." Raynald objected, but it was half-hearted. As much as he might want to, he knew that they couldn't afford to make a move against her princess, but they couldn't do nothing. The Gods alone knew how powerful that child would become if she was left unchallenged.

"Oh I assure you that we are not doing nothing, we are simply avoiding targeting her." Varys stated. "How goes the plan with the bastard?"

"Rather successful. More so then I was thinking actually. I have confirmed that Jenny Greystone is indeed Aerys Targaryen's bastard and has followed the same profession as her mother. Now we simply need to integrate her among Baratheon's favoured whores."

"Then I shall leave the work to you Lord Sarwyck."

"Till next time Spider." Raynald dismissed, speaking more cordially then when they had first met.

Line Break

Selene sighed, not even bothering to push down her annoyance as she glared at her grandmother, who sat opposite her. The two of them were sitting in the gardens of Storm's End with a small table with cups of tea that the servants had brought out. The gardens were admittedly rather beautiful with a wide variety of flowers and plants, and even a few rose bushes in her view. The gardeners were definitely doing their job properly.

"Is this really necessary?" Selene demanded, "I'm pretty sure we both have better things to be doing."

Her grandmother looked distinctly unimpressed at her words given the glare that she gave her. "Considering we started these little chats, because of the nightmares you got, and still have, from your memories, I don't think stopping these sessions any time soon would be a good idea." Rhaelle responded, causing a flash of annoyance and reluctant acceptance across her granddaughter's face. There were many other things that a young girl Selene's age would rather be doing then having this conversation.

"But I haven't had a nightmare in weeks, and not from anything in my previous life." She half-heartedly objected. And it was true, the last nightmare she'd had was of the bandit attack, not of werewolves, basilisks or madmen trying to kill her. It was a bad excuse and they both knew it. The fact was when Selene had first started regaining her previous memories, her discussions with her grandmother had really helped her to come to terms with what was happening to her. Teaching her that she wasn't a freak.

"Can you honestly say that you don't need these conversations anymore? If that's the case then the door is right by their Selene, there's nothing stopping you." Rhaelle pointed out with blunt honesty. She was a very blunt in her approach to many things, in her old age she simply didn't have the patience for subtly.

"So what do you want to talk about?" Selene finally asked, as she conceded that this conversation was happening.

"Let's talk about your friends." Rhaelle requested and Selene was honestly a bit surprised. They mostly focused on her life with the Dursley's, her trials at Hogwarts and the war, mentioning her friends only in passing, with them never really being the focus.

"Why did you and Ronald Weasley stop being friends?" Clearly her grandmother wasn't beating around the bush.

Her friendship with Ron, and by extension the rest of the Weasley clan had never recovered from her fourth year when she had been selected as a champion in the Tri-Wizard tournament. Jealously was one thing, but Ron should have known that she wanted nothing to do with the tri-wizard, and instead he'd been the first to call her a cheat and turn his back on her despite everything they'd gone through over the previous three years, and while she had reluctantly accepted his apology things between them were in no ways good. Though it was the Yule Ball that truly ended the friendship between the two of them. Ron had apparently been under the impression that she would go with him on the date, yeah like that would happen after he treated her like shit and turned his back on her, and she had instead gone with Neville Longbottom.

Despite going with Padma Patil, one of the most beautiful girls in Hogwarts, Ron had spent most of the night moping and glaring at her and Hermione, strewing in his anger and envy until he finally snapped and confronted the two of them, accusing Hermione of being a slut who was giving Krum information, and her of being a glory seeking hog just because she made the effort to enjoy her first date. The end result was Hermione reduced to tears while Athena hexed Ron's dick with an ice spell that gave a whole new meaning to the words blue balls (definitely worth the detentions in Athena's mind, especially considering the embarrassment Ron must have felt going to madam Pomfrey to undo it). But while Hermione had later forgiven Ron, Athena just hadn't been able to bring herself to, and although their relationship had improved somewhat in her fifth year, they had not been friends. At best you could have described them as acquaintances.

"Ron always had an inferiority complex. For him the breaking point was the Triwizad tournament, and the realisation that no matter what he would always be second best, whether in the eyes of his parents compared to his brothers, or in the eyes of the Wizarding World compared to the other members of the Golden Trio."

"So why were you friends with him in the first place?" Rhaelle asked curiously.

"Because he was my first friend. The first person to treat me as me, not as the delinquent or freakish niece of the Dursley family but as Athena Potter. But that didn't last and honestly looking back I can't say if he ever saw me as being more then the Girl Who Lived. And in the end Ron abandoned me when I needed him the most." During the horcrux hunt when Athena, Ron and Hermione worked together again after being forced to flee Fleur and Bill's wedding, she hadn't been surprised when Ron had proceeded to turn his back on her and abandon the mission. But what had shocked her was when Hermione had left with him.

"And what about Hermione?"

Selene frowned as she recalled the muggleborn bookworm. Hermione had been her best friend, her sister in all but blood. The loss of her friendship had hit Athena much harder then ending Ron's had. Hermione had been goodhearted, determined to stand up for what she believed was right, willing to give second chances and determined not to judge anyone unjustly. But she had also been arrogant and bossy, unwilling to accept when she was wrong and refused to consider any other ideas or viewpoints once she had set her mind on something, so certain that she couldn't be wrong. For Hermione, the breaking point between her and Athena's friendship had been the war and the different ways that they approached it.

Selene honestly didn't know when Athena had developed the kill or be killed mentality. Whether it was when Voldemort was resurrected, Sirius death, or the realisation that Dumbledore couldn't defeat Voldemort. Hell considering how she had killed Quirrel it was possible that she'd always had that kind of mentality but had simply suppressed it because her friends wouldn't approve. She could remember how when they infiltrated the Ministry to claim Slytherin's locket, Athena had not hesitated to kill both Umbridge and Corban Yaxley, two of Voldemort's most prominent supporters in the Ministry of Magic. She had seen it as killing two of Voldemort's lackeys who were primarily responsible for enforcing Voldemort's reign of terror and prosecuting those the Death Eaters considered lesser like mudbloods and halfbreeds. Hermione had seen it as an act of terrorism and Athena's complete lack of remorse, nay satisfaction considering what Umbridge had done to her, had definitely not helped.

"Hermione was a good person. But she was also idealist and rather shockingly naïve, she saw the entire war as a good vs evil kind of battle, seeing us as the heroes and Voldemort as the villain, whereas I… whereas Athena had seen it much more simplicity, where we were simply soldiers on different sides of the battlefield."

Hermione had completely bought into Dumbledore's policy of non-violence, and defeating the Death Eaters through other means, and simply couldn't comprehend why Athena was so willing to go through such extreme measures to defeat Voldemort. Why she was willing to interrogate, torture and kill Voldemort's lackies, when in her mind there were other, cleaner ways. Well in Athena's mind cleaner ways didn't win wars.

Then again, though Hermione had been by her side, she didn't truly understand what she went though. Not when she met Voldemort in her first year, not when she faced the basilisk and Tom Riddle alone, not when she being attacked by dementors and certainly not when Voldemort was resurrected and proceeded to torture her. Hermione despite her best efforts just didn't understand she sheer fear, terror and anger she felt during those events and why they made her so willing to be ruthless against her enemies.

"Not only that but Hermione could be rather hypocritical." Selene snarked, remembering Athena's reaction when she learnt that Hermione had obliviated her parents and gave them false memories. Only trained obliviators and mind healers were licenced to use such spells for a reason, and Hermione was neither. She'd also never been taught how to actually cast those spells except for reading the description in a book. The slightest mistake in using those spells could lead to devastating consequences, Gilderoy Lockhart was proof of that, and it was widely accepted that the most memories you could replace was roughly a months' worth if you didn't want to harm the recipient, and Hermione had taken nearly two decades worth of memories from her parents, such a thing was a ticking time bomb. Athena had discovered Hermione's parents in a magical hospital in Australia roughly five years after the war in Britain had ended, the two of them having gone insane from two sets of conflicting memories and the mind healers had been doubtful they would ever recover.

Whether Hermione had been aware of the consequences of her actions or not was honestly irrelevant. She dared to criticise Athena and compare her to Bellatrix Lestrange when she was wiping people's minds without a second thought. The war was hardly the only instance of Hermione's hypocrisy, Selene thought as she recalled Hermione's reaction to meeting Luna and the interactions between the two of them.

"Though in a twisted sort of way, Athena actually owed the two of them. If Ron and Hermione hadn't abandoned her then Athena would never have grown a backbone and rallied the Order, the DA members who left Hogwarts and anyone she could think of to fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters." Selene remarked. Selene wondered what would have happened if they hadn't abandoned her, what would Athena have done, simply continue roaming the countryside of Great Britain, aimlessly searching for horcruxes without any actual plan in mind? Selene would never know.

Rhaelle hummed in response, though didn't say anything else regarding her friends. She had never met the people, and as such the only things she knew about them was what Selene told her. And though her friends turning on her sounded cowardly from everything Selene had told her, Rhaelle was forced to acknowledge that Selene was hardly unbiased. "And what about Dumbledore?"

"I wouldn't have called Dumbledore my friend." Selene responded and Rhaelle let out a small chuckle.

"I mean what do you truly think about him?"

Selene sighed as she contemplated the memories she had inherited from Athena. It had taken her a long time to come to terms with the reasons why she hated Dumbledore. For a long time Athena had blamed Dumbledore for everything that had gone wrong in her life, from her childhood at the Dursleys and Sirius sent to Azkaban, her life in constant danger at Hogwarts and the complete indifference and incompetence of the Hogwarts professors, to the man doing nothing to prepare her to face Voldemort. For a long time she had been half-certain that he had tried to kill her as many times as Voldemort. Not only that but the man had known that she was a horcrux for god knows how many years, and had he ever truly tried to find a way a save her, or was he instead content to raise her like a pig slaughter? It was only in the years after the war that Athena truly began to comprehend the specific reasons for her dislike for her former headmaster.

Despite herself, she had learnt to see the logic behind some of Dumbledore's actions. Even his decision for her to be raised by her muggle relatives wasn't without merit, despite that being one of her biggest reasons for hating the old man. With how corrupt the magical world was, it was doubtful that it would take long for scum like Malfoy, Nott or Umbridge to get their greedy hands on her, raising her either as a sacrifice to Voldemort or believing in the stupid pureblood ideology. But in their arrogance, none of the Death Eaters or corrupt ministry officials would think to look in the muggle world for her.

"Albus Dumbledore was a pacifist and an idealist. And while neither of those are bad things, the man couldn't bring himself to do what truly needed to be done. Not only that but the man was too willing to see the good in people, not realising that actions have consequences." The whole incident with Draco in Athena's sixth year was proof of that, he should have had his wand snapped and sent to Azkaban for putting Katie Bell under the imperius curse and giving her a cursed necklace. Instead, absolutely nothing had been done to Draco, even as he continued plotting Dumbledore's death and letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Under Dumbledore's administration Draco could have gotten away with murder, rather ironic that the only person Draco Malfoy was actually trying to kill was Dumbledore himself.

"That doesn't sound too bad. Being an idealistic doesn't make one incapable and by your own admittance Athena hated Dumbledore more than anyone except Voldemort. Was that simply because of a difference in ideology?" Rhaelle questioned, admittedly curious about what Selene's response would be.

"Hardly, unless you were an extremist Athena didn't hate people for having different political views from her." Selene snorted. "Dumbledore's only crime might have been inaction, but it doesn't change the fact that Athena was the one who suffered the most because of his inaction. Nor was she the only one." And she was certainly not the only person. "Dumbledore was too passive. He never took the fight against the Death Eaters or against the corruption in the ministry. As a military leader and a politician, incompetent doesn't even begin to describe him." The last few words were spoken in a snarl as despite herself quite a bit of anger seeped through.

She wasn't Athena, not truly, but Selene had her memories and the emotions that came with it and she couldn't help but feel a small amount of resentment towards Dumbledore for his actions. How many people had died because Dumbledore couldn't bring himself to get his pretty little hands dirty, how many had died for the greater good? Too bloody many was the answer.

"And what about Severus Snape?" Rhaelle questioned, continuing with her little list of people that Selene had a low opinion of as a by-product of being Athena Potter's reincarnation.

"Why are you asking me about these people?" Selene demanded her annoyance notching up a bit. "They have nothing to do with anything."

"I think they have everything to do with you Selene, because regardless of how small or major they all affected Athena, and therefore they all affect you. Now answer the question, what do you think of Severus Snape?" Rhaelle spoke in a way that brook no arguments.

"I'd compare him to Walder Frey but that would be an insult to the Late Lord." Selene sneered. As much as she hated Dumbledore, at the very least she understood his actions, Severus Snape however she felt nothing but hatred for. "James Potter was a bully, for Athena who had been bullied all her life the realisation was a bitter one to swallow. But in the end James Potter had the courage to fight against a madman and gave his life to try to save his wife and daughter. Snape however had used a crappy childhood as an excuse to join a terrorist organisation and then proceeded to spend to remainder of his miserable life taking out his petty insecurities on schoolchildren and doing everything that he could to make the daughter of a dead man as miserable and depressed as she could be."

Selene was panting slightly as she finished her little rant against the loathsome potions master, her hands clenching so much that she began to feel pain in the palm of her hands from where her nails were digging into the skin. Taking a deep breath, Selene forcibly calmed herself down, briefly acknowledging that maybe she hadn't completely come to terms with everything that had happened to Athena during her life. Athena's life had been much worse then Snape's and Riddle's and yet she hadn't used it as excuse to become a melodramatic psychopath with delusions of grandeur like those two cowards had. Pathetic was the best word that could describe them.

Severus Snape had done nothing to contribute to the war against Voldemort. He did nothing to protect the students in Hogwarts from the Death Eaters, and it was only with his final breath did he tell her the truth; that she was a horcrux. Some of the Order of the Chicken with its head cut off and the Hogwarts professors had seen this as a sign that Snape, had truly been a part of the 'light' side. Athena had seen it as the last act of a spiteful man, for Snape could die knowing that not only was his so called master Voldemort now mortal but that the daughter of his hated enemy James Potter would soon be dead as well.

"So grandmother is there anything else you want to ask me?" Selene asked, not angry or frustrated, merely tired. She hadn't realised how tiring discussing all these people were to her. 'I'm not Athena,' she thought to herself, but she couldn't bring herself to believe herself.

"Just one more thing and then we are done for the day, Selene. The memory you used to power the patronus charm, it wasn't yours was it. It was Athena's, wasn't it?"

Selene's look of surprise was the only confirmation that Rhaelle needed to know that her hunch was right. "You said that being happy is not enough to perform the patronus charm, it needs more then happiness, it requires, satisfaction, contentment, love. All powerful emotions and experiences that you haven't gone through yet, but Athena had."

Selene stayed silent as she recalled the memory she had used to power the patronus, one of the happiest of Athena's life. Selene had inherited a lot of bad memories from Athena's life, but also a lot of good ones to.

"You think you've accepted everything that happened to her but you haven't, you merely think that you have, which is not healthy. We are finished for tonight, but we will continue with these talks. And here." Rhaelle said handing her a handkerchief, and it was at that moment that she realised that some tears had been falling from her eyes.

Line Break

Jon Arryn sighed as his bannermen left the war room in the Bloody Gate, where the principle lords of the Vale had gathered, leaving only himself and Brynden Tully. With only the two of them left Jon Arryn slumped in his seat, exhaustion creeping up on him. Seven he truly was getting on in his years, Jon realised. Normally being back in the Vale had been a nice refreshment to the Hand of the King, it had been overshadowed by his duties.

The last few weeks had been hectic for the lord of the Eyrie, with the time spent organising a new force to combat the Mountain Clans. Despite his age he had managed to present himself as a man to be respected and once again reminding his bannermen why he was the lord of the Vale.

"You really shouldn't be on the front lines, my lord." Brynden cautioned. "At your age you're not going to be of much use."

"You're hardly a spring chicken yourself." Jon snarked in response. "Besides I have no intention of actually fighting the hill tribes. Besides I returned to the Vale for a reason. I assume you've heard about the princess."

"I doubt there is a person in Westeros who hasn't heard about her magic. Do you fear war from the great houses?" While Brynden was a skilled warrior and tactician, he was not the most politically astute person, between the Tully brothers Hoster was the politician while Brynden was the warrior. It was what made the two brothers so formidable in their youth, both of them gaining great renown during the War of the Ninepenny Kings.

"The great families are not the problem. Tywin and Renly will not turn against her, and Ned will never turn against Robert's daughter. What do you think will happen in the Riverlands?"

"My brother won't turn against her, Hoster is too pragmatic, though I doubt he'll risk supporting her. He will be neutral. Frey will do what benefits him, Bracken and Blackwood won't truly pick sides, they'll simply use whatever political or military conflict that might emerge to restart their pathetic feud. And the houses that boarder the Westerlands won't risk anything that could draw Tywin's wrath." Brynden proposed the hypothetical situation of the Riverlands.

"Your thoughts mirror my own," Jon conceded. "As for the other great houses, Mace Tyrell is a fool but the Queen of Thorns will prevent him from doing anything stupid, and the Martell brothers, neither of them will try anything, Doran is to cautious and Oberyn is no fool, despite his brash nature. The only great lord who might try anything is that buffoon Balon Greyjoy." Honestly why Robert chose to spare that man at the end of the Greyjoy Uprising was a complete mystery to Jon.

"The great houses aren't the problem, it's the families who serve them." Jon stated.

"And I noticed you left one family out of your explanation. What will house Arryn do?" Brynden questioned.

"You know the king actually offered to betroth her to my son." Jon spoke, causing Brynden to look at him in surprise. He hadn't heard anything about any betrothal for any member of the royal family being considered.

"From your tone of words, I'm guessing you didn't accept." Brynden stated rather then asked but he nodded anyway.

"I told Robert that my son, due to his poor health and the weakness of the Arryn family, he would have to marry in the Vale in order to secure his rule of the East."

"Bannermen can be a useful but pesky thing," Brynden spoke, agreeing with the Hand of the King. His great nephew would more than likely have to marry within the Vale if he wanted to ever be more than a figurehead. His poor health already gave Robert Arryn a massive disadvantage in a harsh kingdom that promoted Andal knighthood and chivalry, and Robert Arryn would never be a knight. Foreign alliances were useful, but you also needed to safeguard the loyalty of your bannermen, something his brother was currently struggling with due to Edmure's refusal to marry. And yes Brynden was aware of the irony of himself thinking that.

"But that's not why you refused is it?"

'Indeed, Brynden isn't as politically astute as Hoster, but he has a sharp mind. A very sharp mind,' Jon reflected as he debated how to answer.

Jon was silent as he considered the situation. "For centuries dragons were the safeguard of house Targaryen, now Selene and her magic could very well ensure the continued rule of house Baratheon."

"And what of the princes? Have they shown any sign of magic?" Brynden immediately caught the issue.

"No they haven't. It's possible that in the future they might develop magic, but personally I believe that Selene is a fluke, and her siblings aren't going to show magic." Jon stated, he could be wrong, but he had a hunch that he wasn't and honestly neither of the royal princes were worth much of anything. Though he disliked thinking ill of Robert's children, Tommen was a dull and boring boy while Joffrey was a spoilt and ill-tempered brat that deserved a good kick up his backside.

And while both boys were young, neither had shown any great intelligence or charisma, never mind any kind of martial skill or prowess. Unlike their older sister. Selene despite being ill had been a smart and intelligent child while living in King's Landing, and he doubted years under the tutelage of Rhaelle Baratheon had done anything to dull her mind.

"The Vale is the heart of the Faith of the Seven. It's here the first Andals landed, it's in this kingdom that the Seven first touched Westeros. If there is an opposition forming from the Faith, then it's in the Vale that it will emerge." He explained, but one of the many problems that would emerge.

"Indeed, young Robert marrying a sorceress, even if she is a princess would spell the end of Arryn rule in the Vale." Brynden remarked. "It's just not worth the risk. So you returned to the Vale, your here to stop the Faith from causing any problem."

"No. I am here to safeguard the future of the Vale. That girl's power could either secure the Baratheon dynasty or turn Westeros aflame. If she fights for her family and the good of Westeros, then I will support her, if she fights for her own power and ambitions, not caring for who stands in her way, then the knights of the Vale will rise against her." Jon Arryn had declared, the image of the tired and elderly man had disappeared and in his place was the man who had forged the alliance that had brought down the Targaryens.

"What you suggest is treason!" Brynden, and while he had spoken the words softly, the urgency with which he had spoken was undeniable.

"It was also treason to rebel against Aerys Targaryen." Jon Arryn shot back. "I will not be in the Vale long, soon I will return to King's Landing." And the Seven only knew what sought of mess awaited him in the capital, with Cersei Baratheon, who he made a of point of referring to by her married name due to how much it rankled the woman, having free reign. In hindsight he really shouldn't have supported the decision to marry Robert to Cersei, but at the time they needed the Lannisters gold and manpower.

"And what do you want me to do?" Brynden grumbled, mentally debating the benefits of leaving the Vale and seeing either his nephew in Riverrun or his niece in Winterfell, leave Jon Arryn to his plots and schemes, the Blackfish never had any patience for that kind of thing. 'Family, Duty, Honour,' he couldn't help but recall at that moment, regardless of his personal thoughts Lysa and Robert Arryn were his family and he would protect them.

"To continue your duty as knight of the Bloody Gate and protect my wife and son."

"Your not taking them back with you to King's Landing?"

"No I have a strong suspicion that the capital will only become even more dangerous over the next few years, having my family remain in the capital would be a folly."

"It would be good to have Lysa around," Brynden spoke, though somewhat half-heartedly. Brynden was honestly horrified by how much Lysa had changed over the years and certainly not for the better. Lysa had always been rather plain looking compared to Cat, but the years had certainly done her no favours. She had gained weight, her hair had lost colour and she looked more then a decade older then she actually was, but it was the changes in her personality that shocked Brynden. The last time he had seen Lysa, she had been a sweat and idealist child. Admittedly not the brightest girl, but a sweat and happy one, but years living in King's Landing had turned her into an almost vicious and spiteful harpy, and that wasn't even considering her relationship with her son. Lysa was still breastfeeding the boy for fucks sake, why Jon tolerated such things was beyond him.

Still hopefully some time away from that shit-stained city would allow for Lysa to recover some of her wits, not to mention teach her son to be a man.

"I shall leave you to your plans my lord." Brynden grumbled as he left the war room, leaving the Lord of the Eyrie to his thoughts.

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Doran was woken from his sleep urgently by his personal guard Areo Hotah shaking him awake. even as his mind struggled to deal with the drowsiness of being suddenly awoken he knew it was urgent. With his body riddled with gout sleep did not come easy to the Dornish Prince, as such when he managed to sleep, the guards did not disturb him unless it was extremely important.

"Hotah," He spoke groggily "What is-"

"My prince, we are under attack."

"What? By who, Lannisters, Baratheons?" Doran demanded urgently as he pushed himself out of bed, ignoring the flair of pain coming from his legs. He was already dressed while in bad, saving him the hassle, as he grabbed a sword that he kept in his room. He wasn't the fighter his brother was, and with his gout he wouldn't be much off a contribution to the fight, but that didn't mean he was going to leave himself defenceless.

"We don't know my prince. They're sellswords, no sign of who hired them." Hotah answered as they existed his chambers and continued down the hallway, Doran hearing the sounds of fighting in the distance. Doran frowned at the answer, sellswords could mean any number of people but he hadn't been in Myr long, certainly not long enough for the Lannisters or Baratheons to hire assassins to kill him. But the magisters of Myr, particularly Alexios might be responsible. "We must get you to safety my prince." Areo spoke urgently, but as they turned the corner, they saw the hallway packed with half a dozen martell guards and unknown sellswords battling each other in an open hallway.

"Back this way,'" Areo spoke urgently, dragging back the prince bac where they came only to find a few sellswords rushing at them with swords drawn. Areo met the guards with his longaxe, the massive weapon immediately beheading the first soldier to attack him.

With Areo distracted, one of the sellswords, managed to reach where they had came, bypassing the Martell guards that had been fighting in the corridor. One of the sellswords seeing the clearly defenceless prince didn't waste the opportunity to attack him.

Doran just managed to raise his sword in time to block the attack, but he knew he couldn't count on his skills to win. He had never been as skilled as Oberyn in a fight and when he was diagnosed with gout, he had allowed his martial skills to decline, confident that he would never need them again. Well he was now regretting that short-sightedness on his part as he found himself desperately fighting for his life.

Now he was currently fighting for his life, and as he barely managed to block attack after attack, he knew the only reason he wasn't already dead was because the man was purposely toying with him, the sadistic grin on his face being all the proof Doran needed for that.

Doran's back was slammed against the wall, both hands on the pommel of his sword, trying desperately to push against the sellswords blade that was inching closer to his own throat. "This is where you die, my prince." The man sneered mockingly, filled yellow teeth gleaming menacingly. If he'd been more interested in killing him rather then mocking him, then things might have gone down differently.

Doran let loose a wad of spit, the aim striking perfectly in the man's left eye, and while the sellsword grimaced and stepped back slightly, Doran didn't waste a moment. Ignoring the flair of pain in his legs from gout he kicked the man in the crotch, causing him to stumble in pain and Doran then gutted the man like a pig, his sword sinking deep into the man's belly.

Spitting someone in the eye, or kicking them in the crotch was not what someone would consider knightly or chivalrous, but Doran cared little for concepts of false chivalry that the northern hypocrites loved to behold one day and abandon the next. He was a Dornisnman and he would do whatever it took to win.

Pulling his sword out of the dead man's guts Doran looked around to see that his guards were finishing off the last of the sellswords who had had attacked his manor. "My prince, are you alright?" Areo asked concerned.

"I'm fine Hotah." Doran responded a little breathlessly, it had been a long time since he had fought for his life, and he had certainly not missed the experience. How Oberyn could find such thrill on the battlefield he would never understand. Looking around he could see more then a few of his guards had gathered, all of their weapons and armour bloody, with some of them sporting cuts and bruises, and more then a few of them were glancing at the dead body on the floor and bloody blade in their prince's hand. Expressions of shock filtering across more then a few faces.

"What happened?" he demanded, anger starting to replace the wariness he had previously felt.

"It was the Targaryen bastard, my prince." One of his guards responded, spitting on the floor in the process, while more then a few of his guards had similar expressions of anger and loathing.

"What did Viserys do Arnold?" He asked, not providing the brat's self-proclaimed title of king.

"The boy was wondering the manor grounds near the gate when Lothar and Erik caught sight of the sellswords approaching, the bastard then proceeded to stab Lothar in the back and then unlock the gates, allowing them into the lands. If Erik hadn't managed to sound the alarm before they killed him to then we'd all likely be dead." There was more then a few winces at that, and it was only years of control in politics that prevented Doran from being one of them.

Clearly Viserys had realised that Doran had no intention of supporting him, and had decided to leave the manor, potentially killing him and plundering the wealth inside. But there was one thing bothering him, how could Viserys Targaryen, a penniless exile without a single piece of gold, convince a group of sellswords to attack a well defended manor? The promise of gold would not have been enough, especially since there was very little gold within the manor itself. Viserys must have found someone else who would pay for the sellswords, but who? Viserys made enemies as easily as breathing and he was hardly clever or charismatic enough to convince someone to support him.

"Targaryen scum, we should have left the brats on the streets to rot." One of his guards muttered, to which there was more then a few murmurs of agreement.

"And what of Daenerys?" Doran questioned.

"Her chambers seemed to have been one of the first places the sellswords went to my prince," Arnold continued to explain, "They killed the guards protecting her, but my prince I notice that she did not go with them willingly, and she was begging for help, but the number of sellswords prevented us from helping her. Whatever scheme Viserys concocted, his sister appeared ignorant of."

So an attempt to 'liberate' the Targaryens. That certainly crossed off the Lannisters, they would have simply killed them rather than try to capture them. "Do we have any prisoners?" Doran questioned, they needed information and desperately.

"One my prince," Areo answered, "A couple of guards are currently locking him in the basement."

"Then I shall speak to him. Arnold take a group of men and head to the docks, prepare our ship. We are returning to Dorne as fast as possible." He ordered, causing his guards to bow in response, Arnold picking a small number of guards to go with him, while Doran headed to the basement, Areo and another host of guards following him.

During the walk through his manor to the basement, Doran's mind ran rampage with possibilities, the biggest one being, what could happen to Daenerys. He had taken a liking to the youngest Targaryen, he found her a sweat and well mannered girl, far more pleasant then her brother, honestly far better then he would have expected of a girl who had spent her entire life in exile with only an abusive brother for protection.

He was half tempted to send Areo and a group of guards to try and track her down, but with nearly a third of his guards dead, and no clue who was responsible Doran could not afford to take such a risk. As much as he disliked the idea, at the moment Daenerys was on her own until he learnt more about who was responsible.

One he reached the door to the basement a found two guards waiting outside. "Is the prisoner secure?" He questioned, to which they nodded. "Stay outside. I shall speak to the prisoner alone." Doran ordered as he entered the basement without the company of his guards.

Areo Hotah stood guard outside the interrogation room, normally whenever there was someone the prince needed interrogated it would be his brother Oberyn who did the job, his mastery of poisons enough to drive people to complete agony as they swiftly revealed all the princes wished to know in the hopes of either an antidote or a quick death. But though Prince Doran wasn't as skilled in the art of poisons as his younger brother, he had enough knowledge, and a considerable collection of rare and exotic poisons within this manor to quickly force the sellsword to reveal whatever he wished.

The Norvosi guardsman frowned when Prince Doran quickly exited the chamber, surprised how quickly the man had revealed his secrets. Either he was getting far too used to listening to the princes interrogating someone, or the man had simply not had the pain tolerance to withstand whatever poison Prince Doran might have used on the man.

Wordlessly Areo followed his prince, with several other Dornish guards, not missing the newfound look of respect that many of the guards now possessed for their prince. Though the Martell guards were loyal, they didn't necessarily respect Prince Doran, at least not how they respected Prince Oberyn. But that had changed, despite being inflicted by gout Doran had still fought and had even managed to kill one of the sellswords attacking them. He had also had the guts to personally interrogate one of the men responsible for attacking them. From now on Areo imagined that the guards would be much more content serving the prince.

Doran frowned as he walked though the halls of his manor. He would have to leave Myr immediately, which was risky. When he had heard about Stannis Baratheon leading the Royal Fleet to the Stepstones he had delayed his return to Dorne, but now he had no choice. He could not risk giving his enemies another chance to kill him. When the attack had first occurred, he had considered the possibility of magister Alexios organising the attack in retaliation for the attempted rape of his daughter by Viserys Targaryen. But he wasn't responsible, the Lannisters and Baratheons weren't responsible either. The men who had attacked had been part of the Golden Company, which was currently stationed in Myr due to the upcoming conflict with Tyrosh. But he had learnt from the captive that it wasn't anyone in Myr who had ordered members of the Golden Company to attack him.

There was only two words he had managed to get from the sellsword; Pentoshi Cheesemonger. Whoever had hired the sellswords to attack him and kidnap the Targaryens had been from Pentos and that was all the information Doran needed. And when he found who was responsible, well whoever said that the Lannisters were the only ones who paid their debts.

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Tyrion sighed in annoyance as the horse galloped towards the capital of the Stormlands. Just because he had created his own saddle that allowed him to ride a horse didn't mean that it was comfortable for his small and twisted body. Still, it was better than the humiliation of being forced to ride a pony or stay in a wheelhouse and be forced to endure the looks of pity or mockery from all those around him.

The reason he was on his way to Storm's End was primarily for two reasons. He had expressed his desire to learn more about the powers his niece had possessed. After all the idea of his sickly little niece possessing powers beyond mortal comprehension was almost unbelievable. The intellectual in him couldn't help but be fascinated by the prospect and he needed to know more. The second reason, which almost put him off the idea of going to Storm's End, was his father. When the mighty Tywin Lannister had learnt of his dwarf son's intentions to travel to the Stormlands, he had not wasted the opportunity to order Tyrion too learn and report everything he had learnt about Selene's powers. Clearly the man hadn't learnt as much as he wished during his recent visit to Storm's End.

Though no doubt among his little group of guardsmen who were meant to oversee his protection were in reality meant to observe the princess, especially her new sworn-sword as ordered by Lord Lannister. And he was looking forward to seeing Lady Rhaelle and Selene's reaction to that little tidbit.

"Uncomfortable dwarf." A mocking, reason voice spoke, causing Tyrion to look towards the amused and burnt visage of one Sandor Clegane. The former sworn-sword of his loathsome prince Joffrey who was now to be the sworn-sword of his sorcerer niece Selene. Tywin had made the order while he stopped in King's Landing on the way to his return in the Westerlands. Joffrey had been none too pleased about losing his personal attack dog which allowed him to intimidate the servants of the Red Keep. The tantrum the boy had thrown would have been impressive if it wasn't so pathetic.

"Why of course I am dog, my ass is one giant blister. I will have to find a lovely whore to kiss it better, after all they'd much rather kiss my sweet ass then your ugly mug hound." Tyrion mocked in response causing the man to glower at him.

"It's your gold they love dwarf."

"Along with my tongue, my fingers and above all my cock. Unlike you and your loathsome brother I can actually satisfy those I fuck." Tyrion continued to mock the man, though it was the mention of the Mountain that truly angered the Hound, as the man's hands tightened around the reigns of the horse, though the man said nothing else.

Tyrion glanced towards the castle of Storm's End as they got closer to it, not quite able to hide his surprise at the sight of it. This would be the first time he had ever laid his eyes on the infamous Storm's End. Tyrion had heard of Mace Tyrell's failure in besieging Storm's End, the castle having resisted the might of the Reach for an entire year but had attributed the success of Stannis Baratheon to the incompetence of Mace Tyrell but seeing the castle with his own eyes, he couldn't help but acknowledge that it was certainly formidable. No wonder it had a reputation for being impenetrable.

The castle itself was absolutely massive. It wasn't like Casterly Rock which was built into a mountain, instead the capital of the Stormlands was built on a small peninsular, the massive curtain walls enveloping the entirety of the peninsular, leaving only jagged rocks around the base, to prevent any attack by sea or space for any army to place siege equipment to try attacking the curtain wall. The only way to attack Storm's End was by land, though a small narrow pathway that led directly to the main gate of the curtain wall.

The second most famous feature of Storm's End was none other than the massive stone tower and punched into the sky like a fist raised into the air in triumph, or perhaps in defiance to the gods considering the stories of how Storm's End was built. Hearing about it was one thing, but seeing it was another thing entirely. In terms of size the tower likely rivalled the height of the Red Keep itself.

"Halt who goes there?" A commanding voice ordered them to stop as the party of one hundred Lannister guards led by a dwarf reached the main gates. Tyrion eyes the guards standing atop the gatehouse, arrows and crossbows pointed at them, while nearly two dozen guards armed with swords and spears met them at the gates. He also looked at the guard who gave the order, he was dressed in colours of house Baratheon but he could also see the emblem of House Morrigan, clearly a member of the family.

Tyrion could practically feel the annoyance coming from many of the Lannister guards. After years of living in King's Landing where their authority had been unchallenged the lack of respect and obedience shown by the Baratheon guards in front of them was clearly taking them by surprise.

"I am Tyrion of house Lannister, uncle to princess Selene Baratheon. I believe that word of my journey to Storm's End had been sent beforehand." Tyrion declared loudly drawing the attention of the captain of the guards to him.

"Indeed Lord Tyrion word was sent of your arrival. However," the guard began speaking a look of clear suspicion on his face. "We were informed that you would be arriving with a dozen guards and yet you arrive with over a hundred. Nor were we informed of who would be joining you." The man finished glaring at the presence of Clegane who sneered in response.

Tyrion blinked in surprise at that, before he grimaced and resisted the urge to curse his father. The man had clearly not bothered sending word to Storm End about how many guards he would be sending with Tyrion, and now they were suspicious with him arriving with ten times the number of guards he had claimed he would arrive with. 'Bastard,' he thought, the man had no doubt hoped to inconvenience him. The petty action of a petty man.

"My good Ser, I apologise for the misinformation we provided to you, and I understand your caution. However we have no intention of causing any trouble for you." Tyrion reassured the man.

"You may continue with your guards, however they must remove their weapons." The guardsman responded, leaving no room for argument.

"Surely that is a bit excessive Ser, these guards have been chosen by Lord Tywin and the Queen herself to protect not only myself but the princess. Surely you will have them remove their weapons." Tyrion tried to reason.

"You arrive with ten times the number of guards you claimed too and wish to interact with both Lady Rhaelle and princess Selene. I would be failing my own duties as guardsman if I allowed such well armed men so close to the lady and princess of the castle." The member of house Morrigan was resolute and Tyrion knew no amount of arguing would change it. Signing he opened his mouth to agree to the terms before one of the idiot guards sent by his loathsome sister opened their fat mouths.

"You cur." A guard on a horse next to Tyrion snarled. "We are here on the orders of lord Tywin and you dare impede our progress. Tell me why I shouldn't cut you down where you stand you lowborn bastard." The man threatened, a very stupid action considering how outnumbered they were and the fact that they would be living in Storm's End for the foreseeable future and this man, as captain of the guards, could make their lives very uncomfortable if he wanted to.

One of the Baratheon guards snorted at that. "This is Storm's End not Casterly Rock. Your lord has no authority here." More then one Lannister guard glared at the man who spoke but none of the Baratheon guards denounced his words.

The man stood still completely unbothered. "On second thought, you will arrive with only a dozen men Lord Tyrion. The rest will sleep outside the castle walls, and that one will stay with them." The man gestured towards the loudmouth who shared the mess.

"How dare you." The man snarled as he reached for his sword. Tyrion watched in horror as he dreaded a fight between Baratheon and Lannister guards breaking out. Almost dreading that this was the intention of his father and sister, provoke a fight between Baratheon and Lannister guards and arrange for him to be killed in the process.

In response a single arrow was launched, striking near the hooves of the idiots horse, causing it neigh loudly as it reared in response, causing the man to flail in a humorous way that made Tyrion laugh.

"That was a warning shot, the next one will be between your eyes." The Baratheon guard warned, as all Baratheons guards stood at the ready.

"My good Ser, I apologise for the actions of my guardsmen. Sandor Clegane and eleven other men will travel with me. The remainder of the men will stay outside, while this loudmouth over here. I trust you have a cell he can spend the night in so that he can cool off."

For the first time the guard actually showed emotion in his eyes, a look of amusement. "Indeed Lord Tyrion we have the perfect accommodations for him."

"Now wait a minute." The Lannister guard, who still haven't learned how to shut his mouth, once again opened his mouth.

"Oh do shut up. This stopped being funny a while ago." Sandor growled, sounding exactly like his moniker. "But if you are so determined to have a fight then I will happily oblige you." Sandor smirked giving a completely bloodthirsty grin as he looked at the guard who paled rapidly as Sandor gripped his greatsword. Sandor Clegane was not someone to fight on a whim, in fact most Lannister guards would be turned to mince meat in a fight against him.

With that humouruous and terrifying encounter over, Tyrion, Sandor and eleven Lannister guards continued through Storm's End, leaving behind ninety guards and one idiot who was being escorted to the cells.

'They've tightened security,' Tyrion reflected. It really shouldn't have surprised Tyrion, after all Selene had already been the target of a kidnapping attempt and now with the truth of her magic revealed, their were countless fanatics who would attempt something against her. So of course increased security measures would be taken in Storm's End. Despite how inconvenient it had been this was definitely something that Tyrion approved of, after all who knows when the next attack might be, so having as many guards and security measures implemented was the best decision.

However he was curious about what kind of changes had been made in Storm's End and if the council in King's Landing was even aware. Neither Robert or Renly had mentioned new security being implemented which was a bit suspicious, neither of the two brothers were capable of keeping their mouths shut, especially the king when he was deep him in cups. Had for once the king and his brother decided to employ a modicum of common sense, or was Rhaelle Baratheon keeping them ignorant? Well hopefully he would find out the truth in his visit.

Looking around at the guards who were still with him, Tyrion could easily see that they unnerved by what had happened in the gates. Yes most of these men with him had either been in King's Landing or Casterly Rock, both places where the Lannisters reigned supreme and their influence at its height. Not only that but in King's Landing the Lannister soldiers outnumbered the Baratheon soldiers nearly two to one, and could laud their superiority over their 'allies'. Now was not the case, they had no power and authority here, and Tyrion hoped they had the common sense to use their heads and realise that fact. Hopefully one of their own spending the night in a cell would remind them of that fact. Still the fact that the majority of them had their weapons taken from should stop them from causing trouble.

As the small group of Lannisters reached the base of the massive tower, Tyrion could clearly see three people waiting for him. It did not take him long to guess their identities for they could only be three people. The first was an elderly woman, with a cane in her hand who could only be Rhaelle Baratheon formerly Targaryen and the last person in Westeros who was from the family of dragon lords.

The other two were young girls, looking twelve and eleven respectfully. They were Selene and Shireen Baratheon, the identity of the latter obvious from the grayscale scars on her face, and the former because he recognised his niece. Tyrion was also curious about meeting the two girls, he wondered what Selene was like, if she was more like her mother or her father. As for Shireen, well Tyrion had always had a soft spot for broken little things like himself.

Tyrion was helped off his horse by one of the stablehands, not missing a brief sound of laughter that fallowed. Tyrion was unbothered, he was well used to such things, though that didn't stop his eyes from searching around the courtyard, noting those that did and didn't laugh. Interestingly he noted that none of the three Baratheon girls laughed. Considering Rhaelle was a born Targaryen and had no love for his family he'd expected some kind of reaction from her. Then again this woman was an experienced politician who had lived for decades in the courts of both Storm's End and King's Landing. Hiding her expressions or emotions likely wasn't even a challenge to her. Shireen gave him a look of sympathy, likely used to mockery herself. As for his niece well Tyrion was honestly surprised to find her glaring at the people who had laughed.

'Interesting but is the glare genuine or for show,' Tyrion wondered as he puzzled about what kind of person Selene had become over her time in Storm's End. Children could be cruel, but they were also innocent and often followed the will of their parents.

Tyrion had to admit looking at his niece for the first time in three years she had changed. The last time he had seen her, Selene had been a sickly little girl, who spent half her time on bed rest and the other half sulking about whatever had bothered her. A sickly girl unable to do anything except read in the library, not allowed to ride a pony, not allowed to visit the city, not even allowed to make friends among the various noble and even commoners children who all lived in the Red Keep. A lonely child and heart loneliness made her angry and spoilt. Just like her mother Tyrion had remembered thinking unflattering on more then a few occasions, the fact that she had inherited her mother's disdain for him had certainly not helped. But looking at her now he didn't see any of the mockery or disinterest in her gaze that she had inherited from her mother when he had last seen her.

Looking at her now, Selene was very much different. She stood with a confidence that she hadn't possessed, not looking anything like a frightened lamb or a prideful princess like he had pictured in his mind. In appearance she looked a lot like Cersei when she was younger, albeit with dark black hair instead of luscious blonde. There were a few small differences, her mouth looked a bit smaller and her nose slightly bigger, and though Tyrion wasn't completely sure he thought that Selene might be taller then Cersei was at her age. Then again everyone looked like a giant to a dwarf and accurately guessing everyone's height could be a bit challenging when they all had to look down on you. Nonetheless Selene was a pretty little thing and in a few years when her womanhood has had a chance to ripen she may very well be considered one of the most beautiful ladies in the realm.

Unfortunately for the young lady next her, the same couldn't be said about Lady Shireen Baratheon. The biggest and most obvious thing was the ugly greyscale scars inflicting the left cheek and neck. Tyrion had read a lot about greyscale, but had never seen it before, and seeing it for the first time, he had to admit it was ugly. The girl would never considered a beauty, though you never know the girl might one day find a charming prince who would treat her well, as long as her father provided an ample dowry.

"Lord Tyrion. Welcome to Storm's End, we've been expecting you." Lady Rhaelle spoke, her voice conveying noithing less then the utmost curtesy and respect. This was a woman who had been born and raised in King's Landing, lying and curtesy came as easy to her as breathing.

"Thank you my lady, it is a pleasure to be in Storm's End." Tyrion responded as he gazed around him. Rhaelle Baratheon's face was the picture of curtesy, no hint of what she truly thought or felt about him. But still he was curious about what this woman truly thought of him and the Lannister family.

Tyrion turned towards his niece and the lady Shireen. "Uncle Tyrion, welcome to Storm's End, I hope you enjoy your stay in the castle."

"Well my dear niece, as long as the whores are plenty and willing I have no doubt that I will have the grandest time in this castle." Indeed considering how Robert Baratheon was an even bigger whoremonger then he was he couldn't imagine the whores in Storm's End being nothing less then the most beautiful, and the most skilful in the art of fucking.

"Well if you want to fuck whores, then that's fine, though you'll have to go into the brothel in the town." Selene responded, seemingly unbothered by the idea of him fucking whores, then again considering who her father is, it probably made sense. "But if you truly waste your time fucking whores rather then using your mind then no one will ever respect you uncle."

Tyrion blinked in response, surprised by her words and honestly more then a little narked at her words. "I'm the lecherous imp, the hung halfman and the lusty dwarf of Casterly Rock, my dear sweat niece." He smirked in response. "That is exactly who I am."

Selene simply hummed as she looked at him curiously while Tyrion's own interest was piqued slightly. "Well I truly hope there is more to you uncle then a mere whoremonger. By the way uncle, thank you for the books you have given me over the years, I never did thank you properly for them." Selene spoke in gratitude.

Tyrion eyed her curiously, almost seeing her for the first time. Cersei wouldn't have said thank you, even if it was genuine, her pride would never allow her to thank someone else, especially someone that she thought of as lesser.

'Well my time in Storm's End surely won't be boring,' Tyrion reflected as he proceeded to greet the lady Shireen Baratheon.

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Domeric Bolton frowned as he looked at the summons on his hand. He had been summoned back to the North, or more specifically to Winterfell. Oh the summons itself was worded as a request and an invite but Domeric wasn't naive enough to believe that a request to travel to Winterfell was anything BUT an order. And considering the rumours he had heard from the North, it was clearly not anything good.

"I'd have thought that you'd be happy to return to the North." Lord Horton Redford spoke drawing his attention. Turning around Domeric looked towards the old knight who had fostered him over the last three years.

"I should be." Domeric admitted, "But considering I am being summoned by Lord Stark himself, I can't help but be… concerned." He admitted after a few moments to find the right word.

The relationship between the Starks and the Boltons was absolutely atrocious. Hell the rivalry between the Brackens and Blackwoods was like a tantrum thrown between two children compared to the loathing many Starks and Boltons felt for each other.

"You have no reason to be." Horton smoke, placing a comforting hand on Domeric's shoulder. "I know Lord Eddard and he's a good man. Whatever reason why he's summoning you to Winterfell I can promise you that he means you no harm."

"The last Bolton summoned to summoned to Winterfell was my grandfather Dalton who was promptly executed by Rickard Stark." Domeric snarked. He knew he was being unfair to Horton but he couldn't help it. Domeric was scared, yes everything he'd heard about Eddard Stark described him as a good and honourable man, but Domeric couldn't help but feel scared about this summons.

"Well if Eddard truly wanted you dead then he could have simply asked his foster father Lord Jon or his good uncle Ser Brynden to execute you for him." Horton snapped causing Domeric to flinch slightly. When it came to Domeric blunt honesty was truly the best way to push him out of a flunk.

Domeric winced at Horton's words but in a weird way it did reassure him. Lord Eddard had lots of friends and allies in the Vale, enough that if he wished harm on the heir to his family's ancient rivals, then he would easily be able to arrange something. But no, Eddard Stark wasn't like Tywin Lannister. He wasn't like Olenna Tyrell either, he did not assassinate people who were from families that might one day oppose him, that simply wasn't the kind of person he was. But knowing that intellectually didn't mean he wasn't unnerved by being summoned to Winterfell.

"Besides you were meant to be returning to North soon anyway." That was true, Domeric had been in the Vale for the past three years and he was due to return North within the next few moons anyway, something he'd be lying if he said he wasn't pleased about. As much as he enjoyed his time in the Vale he missed the North, he missed his cousins in the Rills and his aunt in Barrowton. Hell he even missed his family in the Dreadfort.

"True, and it will be nice to see my family again." Domeric conceded with a smile, causing the old Redford to grin.

"Your a fine young lad Domeric," Horton complemented him. "I'm proud of you, and I know your going to be a great lord of the Dreadfort. Hell you'd have been a great knight if you hadn't refused my offer to Knight you." The man half grumbled that part but only in jest.

Despite his years in the Vale, Domeric was faithful to the Old Gods and the customs of the North, he had no interest in the Andal Chivalry promoted by the Seven. Besides he remembered the story of Ser Jorah Mormont very well, knighthood seemed ill fated for those of the North.

"Thank you Lord Horton." Domeric replied sincerely.

Line Break

The three of them were gathered around a small table in Marwyn's personal study, Selene, her grandmother and of course the old maester himself. "So Marwyn as our resident expert on all things magical are these authentic?" Rhaelle questioned, referring to the selection of books that had recently arrived in Storm's End, courtesy of the Master of Coin. Or more accurately was delivered to them by one of the Lannister guards that had arrived with Lord Tyrion. No one had missed the implications of that fact, Petyr Baelish had his own men among the Lannisters, and who knows how many guards in the capital.

The Mage as he was nicknamed was browsing though one of the scrolls that appeared to be from Ashai at the moment and he took a few moments to answer. "They do appear to be authentic, and considering where they came from I am impressed that the Master of Coin was able to get his hands on them." Ashai was after all practically on the other end of the world.

"Clearly Littlefinger is much more well connected then I had thought." Rhaelle grumbled as she once again looked at the letter from Petyr Baelish. The letter itself was the usual platitudes that one would expect from a wealthy member of the King's court, offering numerous praises and support, but two parts stood out. The first was Baelish describing the accusations laid against him by Septon Damon as being greatly overestimated, acknowledging that while he does own brothels that provide a variety of services, he also acted in accordance to the King's laws and did not do anything illegal in his brothels.

The mention of Septon Damon was somewhat surprising, the man having become something of a pariah in the Stormlands, Rhaelle being sure to destroy his reputation very thoroughly and he had retreated to the Great Sept of Baelor where he supposedly repented for his past sins by preaching the word of the Seven to the citizens of Flee Bottom. With the Septon in King's Landing it would not be hard for Baelish to find out what the man had revealed, which had been quite considerable, and nothing mentioned was favourable to the Master of Coin. Baelish clearly knew that and was attempting to do damage control and provide a peace offering.

One part of the peace offering was a list of magical books. But it was the second part of that which unnerved Rhaelle. For as long as people had known him Varys had been a mystery, no one knew anything about him, what city he was from, if he had any family or even if Varys was his real name. it was all a mystery and yet clearly Petyr Baelish knew much more about the Master of Whisperers then Rhaelle herself. Hell the man quite possibly knew more about the mysterious master of whisperers then anyone else in Westeros.

Rhaelle wasn't sure if she should be impressed or worried about the fact that Littlefinger was privy to information that no one else was aware of. Clearly, he was not someone to be underestimated.

But it was the news about how Varys became a eunuch that unnerved her. Mutilated in a blood sacrifice ritual. There had been several passages about such things in some of the Targaryen grimoires they had, Maegor's being the most prominent and they had been more then enough to turn her stomach. And to think that Varys had been the victim of one. That would certainly make anyone hate magic.

"What does Littleginger hope to gain?" Selene asked curiously.

"What all men want." Marwyn sneered as if he felt the question was stupid. "Wealth, power, influence. You are a princess, and one with magic to boot. Baelish is trying to help you now so that you might be in his debt in the future."

"I know that but why is he taking this risk? Plenty of lords know that I might be useful to them, but they aren't trying to get in my good graces like this." Selene questioned. The Faith was up in arms against her and although there had been no excommunication against her, already there had been a considerable drop in presence of the Faith in Storm's End. Many Septons and Septas were openly denouncing her, and many lords were little better. Most nobles outside the Stormlands wanted nothing to do with her as her reputation was that of a heathen who possessed unnatural powers. Whereas most lords wanted nothing to do with her at the moment, Baelish instead approached her while everyone else treated her like the plague. Considering on how far her reputation could potentially fall in the future it seemed like quite the gamble for the Master of Coin.

It was unexpected, or unless that was his goal. Make himself appear as an ally to her, while no one else was, and then reap of the benefits later on from a royal who remembered and trusted the support she had received at her lowest moment. Baelish was starting to remind Selene of an awful lot like Lucius Malfoy.

"Baelish motives are his own but clearly he sees an opportunity to get into your good graces." Marwyn grumbled as he went back to looking through the stack of books.

"Indeed. I am much more concerned about Varys." Rhaelle spoke, drawing the attention to herself.

"You think he was the one to poison me?" Selene asked. Selene was very quiet when she spoke, but she wasn't afraid, no Rhaelle could instead see a growing ire in her granddaughter.

"It's very likely." She admitted, though Marwyn grunted in disagreement, and upon her questioning gaze he clarified.

"If what Littlefinger claims is true, and that is a big if, then I don't deny that he has a motive. However if he truly wanted Selene dead why bother with poison. He could have simply smothered her with a pillow while she slept or pushed her down a flight of stairs. For someone of Varys' abilities it would have been easy."

"Not only that but I lived in King's Landing for years. If Varys wanted to then he had years to kill me, and that's assuming he knew about my magic before this year." Selene admitted. If Varys truly hated magic and those who practised it and knew about her abilities, then he would have had her killed long ago.

"Varys might not be the one to poison you." Rhaelle conceded as her mind swam with possibilities, ideas and plots. "But that doesn't make him innocent."

Line Break

Victarion Greyjoy grunted in annoyance as he walked towards the dock where his was currently docked at. He had arrived in the Stepstones with one purpose in mind, track down his loathsome brother Euron. The Drowned God claimed that no man was as accursed as the Kinslayer and yet he could not forgot the humiliation his brother had forced him to endure. Learning that his wife was pregnant, walking in and on her and Euron while the two were fucking. It was only because Balon's guards had restrained him that he hadn't slain his brother then and there.

Balon had banished Euron to avoid conflict, and Victarion had killed his cheating whore of a wife, but that was not enough to preserve his honour. Victarion didn't know if he would kill his brother and curse himself in the eyes of the Drowned God, but at the very least he would make him suffer.

But despite his efforts he had found not so much as a rumour indicating where Euron might be, he had vanished like a ghost. Now he and his crew were currently making port at the Stepstones to restock before they returned to the Iron Islands. He knew Balon would not be pleased, especially considering his intentions, but nonetheless the plunder he had gained from this this journey would be more then enough to appease his lord.

It was at that moment that a massive horn sounded across the island of the Stepstones, and almost at once, the pirates, sellswords, smugglers and all sorts of scum that inhabited the islands began panicking while Victarion tensed, he knew what that sound meant. The Stepstones would soon come under attack, but who was responsible?

Rushing towards the end of the pier, Victarion took out a myrish spyglass, angling it to that he could see a fleet of ships in the distance sailing directly towards the Stepstones. But that was a secondary concern to the Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet, he recognised the ship leading the assault, a ship that haunted his nightmares and constantly reminded him of his failure.

That could only be one ship, the Fury.

"Stannis Baratheon." Victarion growled out, fury overtaking him as he trembled with rage. If there was one person he hated more then Euron then it was the bloody Baratheon. He had never forgotten the humiliation he had suffered at Fair Isle where he had been defeated by a fucking Greenlander. A Greenlander who had never even fought a bloody sea battle before that day.

Turning around he saw an assembled group of ironborn captains and pirates. Mentally calculating the numbers of pirates on the islands and the number of ships he had seen in the royal navy Victarion smirked as the beginnings of a plan began forming in his head.

"Saan," He called out drawing the attention of the Lysene pirate who was in the process of assembling his pirates, whether for retreat or to attack

---

Ser Davos Seaworth wasn't much of a fighter, or a knight for that matter. At heart he was a smuggler and in the campaign of the Stepstones, he was much more useful to lord Stannis as a smuggler then a knight in the upcoming battle. When the King had given his brother authorisation to take the royal fleet and clear out the Stepstones of all sorts of scum that inhabited the isles, the cadet Baratheon had not charged in with his ships like a reckless fool.

Instead Davos had been sent to scout out the islands and report back to the Master of Ships the state of the islands, a task he had more then succeeded in as while on the islands he had contacted his old friend Salladhor Saan. While Stannis Baratheon would prefer it if every pirate in the Stepstones was put to the sword, he wasn't blind to the benefits of Saan allying with the royal fleet. And as Davos noted Saan had been very willing to ally with the royal fleets in order to route out his rivals in the Stepstones, and claim a portion of their treasure for himself, and because of that two dozen striped galleys were assisting the warships of the royal navy in smashing the fleet of pirates and ironborn that inhabited the isles.

Salladhor Saan was many things, stupid was not one of them. He saw the opportunity that the royal fleet presented, not only to himself but to Lys. While most magisters of Lys decried Saan to be an outcast and a criminal, truthfully many magisters financed Saan behind the scenes to attack their enemies in Myr and Tyrosh. And though all the Free Cities claimed dominion of the Stepstones, with their position Tyrosh by far exerted the most influence over the islands. Lys and Myr had the opportunity to weaken Tyrosh's hold over the islands, and neither Free City was going to waste the opportunity presented to them.

Through his spyglass he observed the ships closing in on each other. The Longships of the ironborn had the advantage in manurabiluty, but unfortunately for them they were using them like idiots. The smart thing to do would have been to draw the royal fleet deep into the mass of islands deep in the Stepstones, where their larger size and weight would make them easy pray to the pirates and ironborn.

Instead the ironborn had attacked the fleet directly.

Though as he recognised the Iron Victory, the flagship of the Iron Fleet and was commanded by Victarion Greyjoy, the response of the ironborn made more sense. Clearly the Greyjoy had not forgotten the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of Stannis Baratheon at the Battle off Fair Isle and was thirsting for revenge.

"M'lord should we assist in the battle?" lowering his spyglass Davos looked towards the youth who had asked him that question. The boy was young, not looking any older then his young son Dale. The boy was no doubt hoping to cash in on the glory of the battlefield, which would not be the case considering their mission.

"Nay." He told him as he looked to the rest of the crew on his smuggling ship. "Get ready lads, our mission is the rob these bastards blind." He ordered as they rowed to the location hidden in one of the caves to where the pirates had hidden a shore of their treasure. With most of the pirates in panic at the arrival of the royal fleet and the emerging battle, Ser Davos Seaworth would be using the opportunity to plunder the Stepstones of all the gold they were worth.

---

Victarion screamed in rage as he saw what the Lysene pirate bastard was doing. the fucking traitor had instead of joining forces to combat the Baratheon fleet had instead decides to target the rest of the pirates and ironborn, forcing Victarion to expeirance a vivid feeling of deja vue as he recalled how the Baratheon and Redwyne fleets had trapped the Iron Fleet off the coast of Fair Isle.

NO he will not suffer the same fate he experienced last time. He will not suffer that humiliation once again. Turning to his second in command Ralf Kenning, Victarion ordered the him to prepare the sail to attack The Fury directly. Cut the head off the snake and the body dies as the Reader always claimed. Well he would cut the head of Stannis Baratheon and his Greenlander fleet would flee like whipped dogs.

"But captain, shouldn't we retreat?" one of the crew members, a Thrall descendent that once had promise, clearly his cowardly Greenlander roots were showing.

Victarion did not even bother replying, with a swing of his war axe he decapitated the coward where he stood. "ANY MORE OBJECTIONS?" He bellowed with a roar, getting no negatives from the crew. "THEN COME WITH ME. WE DON'T SOW."

"WE DON'T SOW."

"WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE…"

"BUT RISES AGAIN HARDER AND STRONGER." The crew bellowed.

"Let's kill these greenlander scum." He roared as the Iron Victory sailed directly towards the side of Fury, ram at the ready puncture directly into the side of the ship. The Fury tried to move out of the direct path of the Iron Victory but in this instance the large size of the warship became a disadvantage as the much faster longship approached the warship rapidly. As the longship drew closer towards the warship, the sailors abroad the massive vessel attempted to kill the inhabitants of the longships with a rain of arrows.

Against Greenlanders or cowardly pirates it was possible that most of the crew would have died before even reaching the war galley. But the crew on Victarion's ships were ironborn and experienced raiders. He did not allow greenboys on his ships and every man was a veteran of a thousand raids. As the arrows cmane hurling down, half the designated raiders raised their shields to pretent the pmajority of the ship, while the rowers continued their job.

CRASH

As the ram lodged into the side of the Fury Victarion bellowed for his crew to follow him as he began to climb up the side of the war galley. The impact would clearly shake the defenders of the Baratheon vessel and they needed to take this opportunity to board the ship while they had the chance.

As soon as he climbed onto the deck of the ship Victrarion swung his axe and decapitated the first Baratheon lacky that he saw. With so many of his crew following him the deck of the ship quickly exploded into an orgy of fire, conflict and death.

"BARATHEON." Victarion bellowed as he sought out the one man to have defeated him at sea. "FACE ME YOU GREENLANDER COWARD."

A gurgling sound coming from behind him forced Victarion to tun to see that Stannis Baratheon was standing right behind him, having just stuck his sword through the throat of one of his raiders, the man drowning in his own blood as Stannis yanked his sword from his throat, the man collapsing to the floor as he laid there dying.

Baratheon looked older then Victarion remembered, and he also looked like he was beginning to lose his hair as well. But despite that his stance practically screamed that of a warrior while his eyes showed no promise of mercy, only death. Victarion smirked, as much as he loathed the man in front of him, he also couldn't help but feel a small sliver of respect, after all Stannis Baratheon was one of the few Greenlanders who Victarion felt deserved the title of warrior.

Ignoring the battle around them Victarion launched himself at Stannis, wildly swinging his massive axe. Showing no hesitation or fear Stannis easily blocked the oncoming attack, as he forced his own considerable strength to match Victarion's berserker like fury. "You've gotten slow old man," He mocked as he continued swinging his axe at the enemy, only for Stannis to continue evading him as they remained locked in a contest of strength. "Too many years cleaning up the fat king's messes."

Victarion was surprised when barely a second later a fist went flying at his face, knocking him back. Victarion grimaced as spat a wad of blood and spit onto the floor. That punch had hurt, a lot. "You talk to much." Stannis growled, sounding more annoyed then truly angry, something that angered Victarion in turn. The fact he couldn't even enrage Stannis, merely annoy, like he was some kind of annoying bug he had to deal with.

The two of them continued fighting, locked into a battle of strength, axe versus sword. Between the two of them Stannis only wore the lightest of armour, giving him the advantage in speed, but considering the force behind Victarion's attacks, that armour would offer little protection if he managed to get a solid trike in. However the advantage of speed gave him a considerable advantage over his opponent, Victarion wearing heavy plate armour, while also wielding a massive axe, that weighed him down heavily. It offered great protection though as few of Stannis' attacks that managed to get past Victarion's defence, had little impact on him.

"You die today Baratheon. I will redeem myself." Victarion growled angrily.

"You fool." Stannis sneered. "You don't even realise I purposely left my ship exposed to draw you into a trap."

"You lie. Your death is near and victory will be mine." Over the years his hatred towards Stannis Baratheon had become almost an obsession and seeing the royal fleet once again had forced all that anger and hatred to the surface beyond his control. If Victarion had been thinking rationally he would have seen the mistakes he was making, and how he had walked head first into a trap.

"You truly are as mad as the Crow's Eye though you lack his wits. You crew are dying and my men are boarding your ship as we speak. You've lost ironborn scum."

Forcing his attention away from Stannis for merely a moment to observe the rest of the battle. And he saw that Stannis was right, his men were outnumbered and though for his raiders took down nearly two Greenlanders for every one of their own that died, they still died. While in the distance another, albeit smaller Baratheon warship and sailed next to his own while soldiers began boarding his ship.

Baratheon was right. He had fallen for the trap, and the mention of Euron made it worse. Because he knew that the Crow's Eye would not have fallen for such an obvious scheme. And that only made his unending anger worse.

Letting loose a massive bellow of rage he poured all his fury into his next strike, which gave Stannis Baratheon the opportunity he needed. Taking advantage of Victarion's rage blinding him, Stannis dodged the attack and launched a counter.

The last thing Victarion Greyjoy, leader of the Iron Fleet saw was Stannis Baratheon's sword approaching his face, too fast for him to block.

Line Break

Robert sank down in his seat at the Small Council room in annoyance. Not even a day after he returned and already he needed to deal with this politicking again. He looked around the room and saw that most were already present. Though Stannis was still gone at the Stepstones. Sighing he looked at Jon who looked tired and frustrated. The old man had only recently returned to King's Landing himself after spending the last few months in the Vale, and apparently leaving his wife and son in the care of Brynden Tully.

He wished he could say that he would miss them but that would be a lie. Lysa Arryn was shrill harpy of a woman that constantly bemoaned about her lot in life and blaming everyone around her. The only less pleasant woman in King's Landing was his beloved wife, thinking about her made Robert wonder if he could send her and her brats to the Westerlands for a few years, give him some peace and quiet for once. 'The things we do for war,' Robert thought, Jon and Ned had married the Tully sisters to gain the support of the Riverlands while he had married Cersei to gain the support of the Westerlands. Had any of them experienced a happy marriage as a result of that fact? Robert doubted it. He and Cersei hated each other, and there was no love between Jon and Lysa. During the Greyjoy Rebellion Ned had spoken lovingly of Catelyn but could the two of them truly have a happy marriage with his bastard constantly around?

Robert looked around the rest of the council members. Pycelle, Varys, Baelish and his brother Renly. None of them looked any different then the last time he'd seen them, something that honestly disappointed him, at least regarding his brother. Renly was as far from a warrior as one could be, oh he could dress up pretty and look heroic but in a fight his brother was useless. Hell Stannis may be a wet shit as a person but at least he knew how to swing a sword and take down an enemy, if Renly stepped anywhere near a battlefield he'd fill his pants. If it was anyone else then Robert would find it funny, but for the lord of the Stormlands it was disgraceful. The man hadn't even gotten involved in the fights against bandits or even in the battle against Lonmouth, hiding behind his duties at master of law. The only sword Renly was interested in unsheathing was the pretty boy Tyrell.

"Alright, what was so important that I needed to hear about it right now?" Robert demanded, frustration leaking into his voice. For the first time since the Greyjoy battle, Robert felt alive, yet returning to King's Landing, the rust had returned. The disinterest and laziness. Gods he really needed to get out of this city and start killing some criminals. Maybe even take Joffrey with him, get the brat away from his poisonous mother.

Jon Arryn sighed before nodding to Varys who looked at the King. "Well, I have some news that are rather unwelcome. The reason why Lord Stannis has yet to return is because the Pirates of the Stepstones received more support then expected." Varys began to explain. "Apparently not only were large amounts of Ironborn led by Victarion Greyjoy using one of the Islands as a base to raid in Essos but the Pirates also received heavy support from Tyrosh and fellow Pirates from the Basilisk Isles also arrived to fend of the Royal Fleet. Lord Stannis is fighting a literal War there and the Royal Fleets losses are heavy."

"Fucking Tyroshi bastards," He snarled in annoyance as he slammed his first against the table. "They are aware that impeding the efforts of the Royal Fleet and attacking the brother of the King are grounds for war aren't they?" Robert demanded of Jon as he felt a similar thrill flowing through him. If war broke out between Westeros and Tyrosh then Robert certainly wouldn't be bored. He wondered how fighting those blue and pink haired bastards would compare to fighting ironborn and dragons. He may soon find out.

"There's no proof that Tyrosh is responsible," Jon continued noticing the growing bloodlust in the king, and quickly counselling restraint before Robert got them involved in a war with Essos. He had hoped the recent battle against Lonmouth would have calmed Robert's bloodlust but clearly he had been wrong. If anything it had simply reawakened the desire for battle and glory in the king. "They won't dare attack Stannis directly, but that hasn't stopped them from financing pirates and sellsails to impede Lord Stannis' efforts in the Stepstones."

"However there is good news your grace regarding the Stepstones," Varys continued, drawing the attention back to himself. "The Free Cities of Lys and Myr are not blind to the opportunity presented to them by Stannis' actions in the Stepstones, and how it will weaken Tyrosh control over the islands, and have offered considerable aid to the Royal Fleet."

Robert hummed in response, somewhat satisfied, if a little envious that Stannis was the one that was having all the fun. "And what about the ironborn?" He questioned. Surprisingly it was Renly, not Varys or Jon who answered.

"After Stannis killed Victarion Greyjoy, most of the ironborn began fleeing the islands, and word was sent to Lord Redwyne in advance, who is currently preparing ships to trap them. I doubt any of the ironborn will make it back to their islands."

Robert let out a bellowing laugh at the news. "So Stannis and Redwyne are killing off the fuckers who managed to escape them during the Battle off Fair Isle, once again caught in a trap between the two. Well no one said the ironborn were smart."

"Nevertheless with Victarion killed by Lord Stannis, it might be prudent to send word to the lords of the Western shore to prepare themselves for a possible ironborn attack, who knows how Balon Greyjoy will take the news of his brother's death." Jon responded, a look that spoke a mixture of annoyance, frustration and yet a smidgen of satisfaction. Basically his 'I told you so' look, the man clearly remembering how Robert had ignored his advice to execute Lord Balon.

"Bah, I'll write to Lord Balon himself, reminding him of his place." Robert spoke with a grin, relishing the look that would cross that greedy old cunts face as he mentally envisioned what he would write. It was shame the imp, possibly the only half decent Lannister had already left the capital. If there was anyone who could help him convey the exact vocabulary to put Balon in his place it would be Tyrion Lannister.

"What is the situation with the Free Cities?" Baelish asked curiously.

"The Lysene are preparing their fleet to support lord Stannis in the Stepstones, and if necessary besiege Tyrosh by sea, while my little birds in Myr have reported that the magisters have gone as far as to hire the Golden Company to attack Tyrosh's holdings in the Disputed Lands."

"And how long can this impromptu alliance between Lord Stannis, Myr and Lys last?" Jon Arryn questioned cautiously, Stannis Baratheon was many things, but a skilled diplomat he was not. And considering his rigid sense of justice he didn't know how long the Free Cities would be willing to work with the Master of Ships.

"As long as it benefits them and not a day longer. Myr and Lys may be willing to work alongside each other to defeat Tyrosh today, but they will happily stab each other in the back tomorrow." Varys answered.

"Well then we'll need to send word to Lord Stannis telling him to be on his guard should infighting emerge in the Stepstones." Jon continued speaking as Varys paused in his report. "Nonetheless between Stannis's actions in the Stepstones, combined with Myr and Lys expanding their control over the Disputed Lands, Tyrosh is now without allies and surrounded on all sides, while drastically losing manpower and gold. If they continue fighting Lord Stannis in the Stepstones and the Free Cities in the Disputed Lands the city may very well fall."

"Good serves those fuckers right." Robert grinned. Those Tyroshi bastards always thought themselves better then anyone and their pirates and slavers often targeted Westeros, well let them be the ones being attacked for once, give them a taste of their own medicine. "Well is there any other matter that needs to be seen to?" Robert demanded, having a strong suspicion that the

At those words Pycelle perked up a bit before nodding. "Yes your Majesty. I received a Raven from Stormsend send by Princess Selene and Lady Rhaelle."

The room perked up in interest at that, there had been practically silence from Storm's End since Robert had returned to the castle. He briefly wondered what his grandmother and daughter were up so.

"Well, the part from Lady Rhaelle said that she has found someone to replace House Lonmouth and to take over the Castle. A Cousin of Lady Shyra Errol from Haystack Hall, Ser Eomer Errol. The man is engaged to Lady Lothiriel Dondarrion the Niece of Lord Beric Dondarrion the Lightning Lord.

If your Majesty and Lord Renly agree then Ser Eomer and Lady Lothiriel would marry and found a new House. Its Uuh Ah, House Eorl and the sigil would be a White Horse on green background with his House words being "Let Horn be sounded".

Robert and Renly raised a brow before looking at each other and after some thinking both nodded. Both the Errols and the Dondarrions were loyal and competent families in the Stormlands, and Eomer had been one of the more prominent fighters in the assault of Lonmouth Castle and Robert had no problem rewarding the young man.

"Very well. I will write a letter to make House Eorl official and the new lords of Lonmouth Castle. What was the second issue?" Robert all but demanded, his boredom having reached the limits of his patience.

Pycelle looked at the letter again with a bit of hesitation before speaking, this time speaking to Renly directly. "The second is apparently a request from the Princess towards Lord Renly in regard to starting some business venture and her asking for access to House Baratheons Treasury for it?"

Renlys eyebrow rose before stretching his hand for the letter which Pycelle handed him. Renly overlooked it quickly and both brows furrowed before he turned thoughtful. After a few minutes he handed the Letter back to Pycelle.

"You can send Selene a Letter saying that she is allowed to use 1000 Gold Dragons to try in her business on the condition that if her business is successful, she needs to put the same amount back into the Treasury."

Pycelle nodded and Robert sighed in relief, while the other members of the council interest was clearly piqued by what Selene intended to do with the money, especially considering a thousand gold dragons was a very considerable some and not something to be spent on a whim.

"Good, now that we are finished," Robert spoke as he began to get up, before the voice of his master of whisperers interrupted.

"Actually your grace, there is one more thing." Varys spoke, drawing the attention of the Small Council to the spymaster. "Considering the severity of the news I had at first thought to wait in order to confirm it, but now I believe it would be better if I informed you now."

"Well get on with it then." Robert ordered as he sat back down.

"My little birds have reported that Prince Doran Martell has recently travelled to the Free City of Myr."

"Doran Martell," Renly Baratheon laughed. "Isn't that coward currently crippled with gout, that Dornish scum isn't going anywhere." He japed, clearly his time with the Tyrells had made Renly even more prejudiced towards the Dornish.

"Step onto a battlefield and then you can accuse someone of cowardice, little brother, though knowing you, you'd piss grass before getting anywhere near one." Robert snarked, causing Renly to flush while Littlefinger smirked, and even Jon sported a small smile.

"While it is intriguing that Doran Martell is in Myr, especially since I had heard that he was currently residing in the Water Gardens, I fail to see the significance of your news, Lord Varys." Jon stated, his curiosity undisguised.

"Because my lord Hand, prince Doran was in Myr to meet with Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen."

Robert blinked in surprise at the news, and then he saw red.

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Tyrion looked curiously around the garden where his niece was in the middle of owl training as she called it. Tyrion had read a few books in ravenry and animal training which was why his niece had asked him for help in training owls to replace ravens as the means of transporting messages.

Personally Tyrion doubted anything would come from Selene's attempts, after all she was hardly the first royal to attempt to replace ravens as messenger birds, after all Baelor the Blessed had attempted to do the same with doves. She had already spent a considerable part of the fortune that her other uncle, Renly Baratheon had permitted her to use from the treasury of Storm's End. Nearly half of it had been spent on purchasing dozens of owls from various menageries across the Stormlands, and other regions where owls inhabited, transporting many from Gulltown and White Harbour.

When the owls had first arrived, Tyrion had honestly expected his niece to have Marwyn doing all the world while she claimed the credit of being the one to introduce the idea of replacing ravens. It's certainly what Cersei would have done. To his surprise however Selene was completely responsible for the owls, in fact Marwyn had almost nothing to do with them, and when he'd brought it up to Lady Rhaelle she'd simply told him that Selene knew what she was doing and that he could observe her work for himself.

He was partly wondering if Rhaelle was purposely having Selene doing the work in order to teach her responsibility, not an uncommon action for various noble families. Though the how varied, for example his own bastard of a father had him organise the drains of Casterly Rock to make sure the shit reaches the sea.

He looked as an owl flew from Selene's outstretched arm towards to a tree branch. "Now come back here girl." Selene spoke as she picked up a piece of bacon from a nearby plate of food that Selene had brought out. Personally Tyrion doubted that the owl would be interested in the bacon, they were birds of prey that feasted on insects, fish and even smaller birds. He doubted pre-cooked big meat was of any interest to them.

However he was proven wrong when the owl actually flew from the branch and onto Selene's arm, her talons gripping onto the gauntlet that Selene wore. "Well done," Selene cooed as fed the owl the piece of bacon, it greedily swallowing it. "Who's a good girl, you are. Yes you are, you are." She continued cooing as she scratched the owl, the thing happily preening under the praise she received. Truly this owl was almost exactly like Hedwig that Athena had possessed. Just as prideful, beautiful and intelligent. However Selene refused to give this owl the same name, there were enough similarities between her and Athena, plus it just felt wrong to name an owl after Athena's treasured pet. After her meeting with her grandmother a few weeks back she had been forced to confront the fact that she wasn't as unaffected by what happened to Athena during her life as Selene had liked to pretend she was.

Tyrion was openly gapping at the sight. Selene only had the owl for barely a week and yet she had already taught it to follow directions and orders. Granted as far as Tyrion knew this was so far the only owl that Selene had managed to train but the fact that she had managed it in such a short amount of time was impossible. 'Was she using magic?' He wondered, 'if so how is she doing it?'

"How do you manage it?" Tyrion finally asked, his curiosity finally reaching its limit as he wondered how she'd managed to do it.

"With magic." Selene responded with a massive grin on her face, her eyes practically alight with amusement. "Magic and some understanding of how to train owls."

"Oh," Tyrion asked, the intellectual in him perking up as he felt a sudden spike of interest. "How do you train owls? From what I know it's very different from training hawks and ravens. Also is it save for you to pet that owl, as I understand they don't like being cuddled."

"Oh it is." Selene agreed without hesitation. "As for petting them, well as long you are careful to form a bond with them beforehand then, and you are careful not to be aggressive then you can pet them. And that's one thing to understand, they are not pets. They are predators not mere birds you MUST treat them with respect. Start with feeding them and simply spending time in their presence, eventually they'll grow used to you. From then they'll grow more used to their presence, then simply start training them with simple movements back and forth."

Tyrion blinked, honestly feeling a little disappointed. Was that really it? "That sounds remarkably simple." He stated not even hiding his disappointment as he frowned. "If it was that simple then the maesters would have done it ages ago."

"And yet I had a maester to help me." Selene pointed out. "The reason why the maesters haven't been able to train owls to carry messages is because they use the exact same method they with training ravens. Owls however are much more intelligent then ravens, something that the maesters routinely failed to take into account in their training. A little out of the box thinking."

Tyrion frowned, not out of what his niece said but the fact he hadn't ever realised it before. Tyrion had always prided himself on his mind, so the fact that Selene had noticed something to shockingly and annoying simple was somewhat grating. "That does make sense." He conceded, "But tell me Selene, why are you interested in training owls to replace ravens? They are much more formidable and can fly in harsher weather conditions, which would make them invaluable, especially for the North and the Vale. But why not simply have Marwyn record what you are doing and send the information to Oldtown. You would still be credited with the discovery which would help the reputation of the heathen princess." He said with a grin that Selene shared. "So why not do that? Why all this secrecy?"

"Because I'm not doing this to improve my reputation, at least not completely. The maesters control the training of ravens which gives them unrivalled authority and leverage throughout Westeros. By training and selling owls which are more effective then ravens I gain a considerable profit, improve my reputation as well as gain connections throughout all of Westeros."

'And I also weaken the maesters,' she thought through herself. Personally she was still sceptical about Marwyn's claims about the maesters attempts to eradicate everything related to magic, but if it was true and the maesters were truly her enemies, then anything that could weaken them and increase her own authority was beneficial.

From a merchant standpoint what Selene was trying to do would be impressive, and if she was truly able to replace ravens with owls then she would be able to exploit all of Westeros for her own profit. Of course after news went out that it was possible to train owls as messenger birds, then Selene's little monopoly wouldn't last long. Unless of course his niece was lying and magic truly was needed to train owls as messenger birds. If that was the case then the princess would have guaranteed her power over any kind of competition.

But he couldn't help but wonder what else his niece was planning. Obviously she wasn't content with merely raising pets, hell nearly every day she was meeting with seamstresses, merchants, and there were even rumours of architects from Braavos, Myr and even Volantis being invited to Storm's End, though the reason eluded Tyrion, but he had a few theories. Granted if the rumours about architects was true, then their journey was certainly going to be delayed with the current conflict in the Stepstones.

'There's more to you then meets the eye isn't there Selene,' Tyrion thought to himself as he continued to observe her training the owl into following her orders. 'I look forward to learning the truth for myself.'

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"Are you sure this will work?" Marwyn asked cautiously as he stared at the boiling cauldron and the very unhealthy looking goop inside of it. While a part of him was indeed fascinated by the prospect of using magic to become an animal, the fact that Selene was mixing a number of ingredients, more then a few of them lethal if prepared incorrectly, well Marwyn could hardly be blamed for being a little sceptical.

However the maester in him, the one that thrived to discover new knowledge, especially when it was related to his passion of magic, well he couldn't help but he enthralled by the prospect of using magic to turn into an animal. Apparently there was no way to determine the truth about what one's inner animal might be prior to using the potion, so Marwyn couldn't guess what his own animagus form, as the princess called it, until he took his potion for it.

"Yes I am certain. Honestly the hardest thing was actually getting the cauldron, not the ingredients." And Selene wasn't exaggerating, it had taken four attempts for the blacksmiths of Storm's End to build the cauldron to her required measurements, an honest to the Seven travesty. Her grandmother often said that the blacksmiths in the castle simply didn't compare to Donal Noye, and Selene was inclined to believe her, the smiths in the castle really needed to be replaced or retrained.

"Truly the knowledge you possess, Valyria in its prime is honestly astounding." Marwyn spoke awe and wonder in his face, while Selene carefully kept her gaze focussed on the potion so that Marwyn couldn't see her expression. With how much knowledge she had on magic, they'd been forced to tell some half truths to Marwyn and had told him that she was reincarnated from a Valyrian sorceress who had lived in the early days of the Freehold. It was certainly easier to believe then the truth, and the fact that the Valyrian scrolls and grimoires they possessed, all mentioned reincarnation was enough to make it believable. Certainly more believable then what the truth actually was, that she came from a different world with technology and magic unlike anything those in Westeros could possibly hope to comprehend.

Bloody hell even with her memories it was hard for her to comprehend some of the things she had seen.

"The potion's nearly complete. Time for the final stage." Selene told Marwyn as she put her forfingers into her mouth and pulled out the mandrake leaf, coughing lightly as she did so.

"You kept that in your mouth for a whole month." Marwyn exclaimed, not even trying to hide his shock.

"I told you that was an essential part of the ritual." Selene reminded him.

"I thought you were joking." Marwyn responded before a lecherous grin came on his face. "Though I have to admit princess however will marry, he will certainly be pleased about your lack of gag reflex." He teased her causing her to turn beat red.

"That's hardly relevant you pervy old leach." She exclaimed as she turned her head to try to hide her blushing face, which only became worse as she couldn't help but remember a few incidents from Athena's memories who had certainly not been chaste or shy.

Selene desperately shook her head of those thoughts, especially as rather vivid memory of Athena and Neville entered. She didn't want to think about how well-endowed Neville was, or how flexible quidditch training had made Athena. 'Bad thoughts, bad thoiughts, bad thoughts,' Selene desperately thought to herself and she felt her cheeks heating up even more.

Marwyn chuckled as he watched the princess blush and desperately try to distract herself. Ever since he had learnt that she was actually reincarnated he had begun taking great joy in teasing and tormenting her, her reactions being very entertaining and the highlight of his week.

"As for this potion, do you intend to show off your animal form during your birthday celebration in three weeks time? Your mother and the rest of the royal court will be visiting." Considering the demonstration she had thrown during the victory celebrations after Lonmouth's defeat, no doubt many people were expecting the same, especially considering her whole family would be visiting.

Unlike Earth, Westeros did not name its months. There was no January, February or March. Though the year was divided into twelve months and each month had approximately thirty or thirty one days depending on each month, these months weren't named. Instead, for example they were referred to the 5th day of the 3rd month in the year 290 AC. Rather ironic considering the atrociously bad luck that she had the day as Athena but her birthday was on the 31st Day in the 10th Month of Aegon's Conquest. Known in a different world as Halloween and the day Voldemort was first defeated and a time of constant bad luck for Athena Potter. Selene however chose to now see this day as a time of good luck. It was her birthday after all.

"I won't be able to complete the transformation in less then a month." It had taken James Potter and Sirius Black nearly three years to complete the transformation and even Athena for all her power took over two years to manage it. Even with the advantage of knowing how to do it, and if she managed to have the same animagus form to make the process easier, she doubted she'd be able to master the form in less then a year.

Turning her attention back to the potion Selene added the mandrake leaf to the potion, stirring the potion correctly before moving onto the next stage of adding a strand of her hair. Then it was the waiting game.

If Selene had lived in any other place in Westeros then the next stage would probably be the most annoying stage. Waiting for a thunderstorm to change the colour of the potion to the required blood red. Admittedly Selene didn't actually know the purpose of this stage to the potion but she knew that it was necessary to correctly perform the potion. Thankfully she lived in Storm's End in the Kingdom of the Stormlands. Hell there was a bloody storm happening this very moment. As soon as the next lightning strike happened, Selene watched as the colour changed to blood red.

"Good old Storm's End." Selene muttered with a smile. And to think she'd once found the weekly storms to be annoying.

"Are you sure about doing the next stage on your own princess?"

"Yes. I don't know what my animagus form might be and after I drink this potion I will change almost instantly. And depending on what animal I change into I might not be able to control myself. Much better I'm on my own." She declared as she took the phial of the potion.

With that she left the workshop her and Marwyn used to practice magic and potions and headed towards the deepest part of Storm's End, where she knew an exist exited, that would allow her to access the caves outside the castle, allowing her to use the potion in private.

As she left the room, Sandor Clegane who had been waiting outside instantly began following her. "I would have thought you'd have left by now." She remarked, after all she and Marwyn had spent nearly the last two hours in the room working on the potion. If nothing else Sandor was certainly dedicated.

"Nothing better to do." The man struggled as he continued following her. The man had become an almost permanent fixture of Storm's End since he had arrived with her uncle Tyrion. While most of the Lannister guards had long since returned to King's Landing, the majority of them having been quite put out about the fact that in Storm's End they were the little fish and had no power, authority or privileges and the lot of them had returned to the capital.

There had been some concerns with several guards in Storm's End and her Kingsguard protector Ser Arys, yet Clegane had been accepted, if somewhat reluctantly. His skills likely playing the key role in that. Say what you want about Sandor Clegane but he was a ferocious warrior and widely considered to be one of the strongest soldiers in all of Westeros.

Sandor however had stayed, in part because he had been ordered to by Lord Tywin and also in part because he seemed to prefer guarding her then Joffrey. He certainly didn't raise any objections about staying in Storm's End.

"Sandor, can I ask you something?"

"Princess can ask what she wants, doesn't mean I'll answer." The Hound responded.

"Why don't you allow people to call you a knight yet you have no problem people calling you dog?" It was something that she honestly didn't understand. Sandor Clegane didn't strike her as someone who took insults laying down, and yet he wasn't bothered being called a dog, whereas when in a spar when his opponent had called him a knight it had enraged the man beyond measure to the point Clegane had beaten the man to a bloody pulp.

"Dogs are loyal, knights are little shits." The man responded almost immediately causing Selene to let out an unladylike snort.

"Then it's a wonder that a dog, not a knight was given to my brother, they would have gotten along marvellously." Selene responded, which in turn made Sandor snort. It had not taken long for Selene to learn that Sandor hated Joffrey and wasn't at all bothered about no longer protecting her brother. Also according to Sandor, if anything Joffrey's arrogance and condescension had only grown over the years. Well she would soon I find out over the next month when her family visited for her birthday. She wondered what it would be like now that her magic had been revealed.

"You may retire tonight, Sandor." She dismissed the man, causing him to grunt as he left her alone. With that she continued on her way to her destination, walking deep into the bowels of Storm's End until she found the passage she was looking for. The exact passage which Davos Seaworth had discovered and used to provide aid to the citizens of Storm's End during the Rebellion. After the rebellion her uncle Stannis had the passage barred, one of his few actions as lord of the castle, before her father had sent him to Dragonstone. However with her grandmother's blessing Selene had the bars removed in order for her to be able to change into her animal form in private, without risking anyone discovering her.

Once she'd reached a small live cove, isolated from the rest of the castle, Selene looked towards the passage where she'd just come from and placing her hands against the side of the cave wall she focused her magic. Casting a spell to seal the entrance so that she wouldn't be able to enter the castle that way while as an animal.

Placing the potion on the ground, Selene proceeded to undress, first animagus transformations were always messy and learning to transform without destroying your clothes took time and practise. Shivering slightly at the cold as she finished undressing Selene hastily rubbed her arms against her body and tried to put some warmth in her.

Picking the flask with the potion in it, Selene briefly wondered what kind of animagus form she'd possess. Would she have the same one that Athena had? She wouldn't be disappointed if she did, Seven knows that Athena had practically won the lottery when it came to animagus forms. Would she even have an animal form of a creature that didn't exist in this world? Or would she instead have an animal form of a creature only native to this world? Well, she'd soon find out.

Unscrewing the flask she held it to lips, muttering "bottoms up" to herself as she swallowed the foul tasting liquid and simply waited for it to take effect.

It did not take long for the potion to take effect, already she could feel tension in her muscles, a pit in her stomach growing uncomfortably as she fell to her hands and knees. The first animagus transformation had been compared to by more then a few magical researchers as comparable to a werewolf transformation in terms of pain and agony, as your bones and muscles literally broke and remake themselves in the form of an animal.

It was likely the pain of the transformation that prevented many people from completing the animagus transformation in the wizarding world, despite how useful the ability was. It was only with time, practise and repetition could one learn to transform from human to animal without experiencing any pain or discomfort.

But despite the pain her body was going through, Selene didn't regret taking the potion especially as she saw her animal form. The same one Athena had possessed. Selene wasn't disappointed, on the contrary she felt euphoric. After all, having a magical animagus form, and a powerful one at that was literally one in a million odds.

"Yes." Selene yelled or tried to as a large sounding roar emerged from her throat, the animagus transformation partially completed.

The animal form had the same shape of a female lion, but anyone with any understanding of lions knew that this was no mere lioness. At least a third larger then the average female lion, with golden fur that practically shimmered, flashing eyes, with claws and fangs capable of tearing apart steal as if it was parchment, this creature could not be mistaken for anything but magical. If not divine.

The apex predator of ancient and modern magical Greece, rivalling the Chimera and Fluffy the Cerberus. The Nemean Lion.

End of chapter 5. Please review.

Some people might disagree with how easily I killed off Victarion, but I honestly don't consider him all that competent or skilled and I'm pretty sure GRRM described him as "dumb as a stump," so him falling into a trap by Stannis Baratheon is plausible to me, especially if he is blinded by rage.

Also first appearance of Tyrion, not sure I presented him correctly but I wanted to showcase Tyrion's curiosity and scepticism regarding his niece who he hasn't seen in three years, his niece who his last memory of was a spoilt and entitled girl who followed her mother's example.