...

He carefully walked in between the mounds of sleeping and snoring men, his gaze going through every make-shift tent as he kept himself hidden and out of sight of the relatively low number of guards.

The dumb scary fucker he was been paid a gold dragon to kill had refused any guards for himself, or even a closer spot to the nobles, for whatever reason.

At least according to her.

He briefly shivered at the look he'd gotten when he'd asked her why she wanted the guy dead.

Questioning royalty would've been a stupid way to die. Though given he had no family, at the very least he would've died curious and without regret? Well. Mostly.

It didn't take long before he finally found his mark, the scary ass fucker was thankfully still sleeping, practically dead to the world as he snored, laid against the tree as he did.

He'd seen the duels... Most of them had... The thought of them momentarily brought a shiver down his spine, one he ignored.

He was asleep. That was all that mattered.

It didn't matter if you were the goddamn warrior, once asleep, you were easy prey.

For a brief moment he considered just throwing the knife at him- The Queen had refused to allow him the use of anything else, given the two previously failed attempts by what he presumed were other desperate guards.

Thinking of the possibility that he might miss his mark, he held in a sigh and crept towards the man- His gaze locked onto those sleeping within close proximity, most likely passed out from drinking. His mind idly noted a few nobles and heirs among them.

Evidently, the fucker was already popular among them, despite been a literal nobody.

Keeping his gaze locked onto the ground, in case he missed any unseen branches and twigs, it wasn't long before he found himself almost face to face with the man.

Slowly, and carefully, he reached the knife out towards his neck, his own breathing practically non-existent as he listened to the other's obnoxious snoring-

"Don't mess up now, you only get one shot at it." The words practically froze him on the spot as pure fear filtered through him. "It won't be pretty if you do." The man remarked, his eyes still closed as he literally kept on snoring after his statement. A serene expression on his 'sleeping' face.

Gulping once, the guard made the on the quick decision to resign from his post and become an Essosi sellsword as he calmly turned around on the spot and hightailed it out.

He ignored the sudden whine and curse he heard in the background, as he kept his gaze far and away from that entire direction.

Fuck the Queen, she can kill that demon herself.

...

...

I was admittedly feeling rather down- I'd been so close, so fucking close!

Why, in god's killing floor of a planet, did I open my fucking mouth!?

"Ha! You look like the seven hells right now!" Robert's voice pricked my ears as I turned my gaze towards him. The man had insisted I accompany him at the front the moment everyone was up and ready to move, while by his other side was a lost in thought Stark.

Which, well, was a good sign at least.

Most Starks tended to reach the bad ending if they didn't use their brain. Rather quickly at that.

It was nice to know I was somewhat changing things- Hell the fact he hadn't already tried to arrest Cersei spoke volumes! Or maybe he was just waiting for actual proof? Or he really took my White Walker warning seriously enough to let her keep a semblance of power until the night dick was dealt with?

Either way, the change was good! I think.

Behind us stood some of Robert's, somewhat wary Kingsguard, their gazes focused on me- Well, Barristan wasn't wary, hell the man looked relaxed for whatever reason.

"Can't handle your drink like you handle a blade?" Robert questioned with a grin.

I shrugged, earning a snort out of him.

"Well, glad to see you're not good at everything!" The man barked out. "I'd lose my crown if you were!"

...Did this fucker actually think being able to handle one's drink was a freaking requirement to be king!?

I mentally sent Ned Stark my condolences.

"Eh, less that and more that I am still alive right now." I deadpanned, shaking my head. "Was so close to getting my neck split open last night by some idiot with a knife!"

I ignored Jaime Lannister's sudden cough.

And before Robert could respond to that, I let out a mournful sigh stomping his reaction.

"Fucker lost his balls before he could go through with it!"

"..." Robert turned his gaze momentarily towards Ned, and before he even said anything, the Stark promptly nodded and slowed down on his trot as he turned his horse around and started giving out orders to a few of the guards he'd brought with him. To presumably find the assassin, while I turned my attention back to Robert. "You're upset that you didn't die? To a cunt without balls?" He questioned confused. Yet before I could even answer, his eyes quickly narrowed. "With skill like yours, the only place you should even think of dying in is a battle! Where every moment, every breath could be your last! Surrounded by death, and the only thing stopping it is the weapon in your hand and enough booze in your body to dull the pain!"

Yeah, well, give your boyfriend a few weeks and there might be a fucking war.

For Ned's sake, I didn't say that out loud. I felt he had enough on his plate as it is- Though if I make it to the moment Robert decides to freakin' assassinate a child, we were gonna have a problem.

A single beat passed following his words before an excited grin quickly showed itself onto his face.

"Have you ever been in a battle?" His frown rapidly made itself known. "Gods, I don't even know your name!" I was pretty sure there was a question there.

"I've had a lot." I shrugged, "And yes I have been in a few battles."

He completely forgot about my name and excitedly asked me how many soldiers I'd taken down by myself.

"It had-"

"Trained, or untrained?" I deadpanned the question towards him, briefly freezing his own words as bemusement filled his gaze. "Though in all honesty, everyone looks untrained to me..." I paused, frowning. "It's kind of hard to tell really, after the first few dumbasses that try to fight me in a one on one for whatever stupid reason, I kind of just get swarmed by the rest when they see me kill their betters." A beat passed, my gaze oblivious to the expression on Robert's face. "At that point, there's just so many bloody corpses on the ground it's hard to tell-" Another beat passed. "It's even harder when they start running away, freeze out of stupidity, and in one rare instance actually just kill themselves because they think it's less painful." One final pause and I gave the other another shrug. "Which is really stupid 'cos I would've spared that fucker's life if he'd just asked."

I blinked at the wide-eyed, childish expression on the goddamn king's face.

"...So yeah, I guess death does sort of surround you when you're just handing it out like cheap brothel wine?"

After a brief moment of... what I presumed was adoration, the man let out a sigh and shook his head.

"Thank fuck you weren't in the rebellion." The man remarked towards me. "The bloody priests used to talk about people like you-" He suddenly frowned as a look of realization set in. "Maybe the faith isn't as full of it as everyone makes them out to be..."

Well. I may have just convinced Robert to start going to church of all fucking places.

Which, considering what his lore said about his actual duties as king and the number of council meetings he'd gone to- I figured was a pretty big butterfly... Almost as big as him actually.

Frankly, the only church, chapel, faith-building-thingy that I'd have figured him to go to was a blasphemously named brothel.

Something like The Father's Whores? The Warrior's Brothel? The Crones Bitches? The MILF? The Smith's Sex Toys? The Stranger's Chlamydia?

Obviously, the Maiden's brothel already exists- It's called Dorne.

I idly considered opening one of those up, if only to increase the number of people after my head.

Regardless- The idea of making Robert more pious was hilarious... Unless, you know, he became a priest of Rohypnol.

Red faith?

Lord of Light pricks?

I can't remember what they were called.

The cult that burns people alive for placebo visuals in a fire.

...

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