A Song of Ice and Fire was meant to subvert the usual fantasy tropes many of us had grown up with. Part of my motivation for this was a deconstruction of all the Self-Insert, OCs, and trueborn son stories I've read on the fandom over the years. Best warrior in Westeros, cares about everyone, no prejudices at all, falls in love with Sansa (Occasionally Arya) and sides with the Starks.
Right now, I'm estimating it'll be around 350,000-400,000 words in total. Wanted to show just how difficult improving a society and introducing new technology really is, not to mention how overwhelmed anyone would be in that position.
XXXXXXXXXX
"Let me get this straight: you thought arming the Faith Militant to remove some of the Crown's debt was a bad idea?" Matthew's voice was full of quiet fury. Cersei at least had the sense to cower in front of him.
"No different than the deal you made with the Iron Bank!" Cersei attempted to justify. "They are fools, blinded by worship and. . ."
"Have killed the High Septon, seized control of numerous septs, and intend to do the same to King's Landing." For the first time, Matthew understand why Robert occasionally lost his temper and struck Cersei. "You seem to have forgotten a few basic history lessons. Do you remember how the Targaryens struggled with them despite their dragons?" Maegor, at least, did one decent thing in his Reign.
"Worse, you went behind my back when you made this deal. Disobeying a direct order from the King is treason, and I believe you know the punishment for that. Clearly, you don't have a clue what you've just done."
"I. . . never imagined they'd do such a thing!" Cersei glared. "Now that they've betrayed us. . ."
"Betrayed you." Matthew cut her off. "You thought they could be controlled, though for what purpose, I'd like to know." Based on his knowledge, it had something to do with Margaery. Cersei despised the influence Margaery had on him, not realizing how fragile their position was. "Forget it, I'm not in the mood for listening to bullshit."
He should have known things weren't going to be quiet for long. While Matthew had prevented some of Westeros' devastation, winter was still going to be painful, and people wanted someone to blame.
What am I going to do now? Matthew wasn't concerned about the military threat. They had arms, but wouldn't survive a direct confrontation. Fourteen septs had been seized and according to the best estimates his spies had, they possessed only several hundred people who were actual fighters.
Unfortunately, Matthew knew killing them would spark further conflict. If he butchered hundreds of believers in a sept, they'd become martyrs and others would take up their cause. If he did nothing, those around him would consider him weak. I expect that's what the High Sparrow has in mind. Thinks, no matter what he does, the victory will be his.
"Assemble the men!" Matthew ordered his subordinates, who rushed off to carry out his orders. The entire city would be watching to see what he did next. "I want them ready at each sept within fifteen minutes!"
In total, it took eleven minutes to assemble 2,000 of his personal guard along with 1,000 Lannister knights and men-at-arms. More than enough to deal with the High Sparrow. Matthew surveyed the troops, ensuring there were no Lord of Light banners or anything that would give the impression of religious warfare.
"You slaughter even one another over your false Gods," Melisandre spoke from behind him, making Matthew jump.
"I hate when you do that. . ." Matthew muttered. Based on his men's expressions, none of them saw Melisandre coming. He didn't have a clue how she accomplished that, but it could wait. "What are you doing here?"
"I am, as always, here to guard you." Melisandre gave a small smile. "This High Sparrow is not a man to be underestimated."
"Yeah, figured that out for myself, thank you." Matthew ran a hand down his face. "And no chance am I bringing you along to this, no matter what you've seen in the flames. I'm trying to keep things from getting worse." He turned his death glare on Melisandre.
"As Your Grace commands." She took several steps back and watched them depart. Matthew had to order some of his men to follow, whom he suspected were R'hllor followers. All the more reason he had to consider his approach carefully. I'm juggling ticking time bombs and a single mistake will set one off.
Matthew and his soldiers marched through King's Landing, with the commoners scrambling to get out of their way. He kept his gaze forward, though privately wondered where their loyalties were. The Faith of the Seven had endured for centuries, but the devastation caused by the war, along with Melisandre, had no doubt shaken such faith.
He stopped at the sept where the High Sparrow and his followers had barricaded himself. Matthew glanced at the windows and door, taking in its defensive capabilities. A battering ram would shatter the lock in minutes and the windows were not in a location to allow for defensive fire.
Only two Sparrows stood at the doorstep, carrying spears. Neither wore even leather armor. "I will speak to the High Sparrow. Let me pass."
"The High Septon is busy with prayers," One of them attempted to correct. "You will have to wait until they are complete."
"Your Grace, shall we kill them now?" One of his officers questioned, fingers wrapped around his sword.
Matthew considered his next move. "It's not wise to keep a King waiting, nor do you become the High Septon by murdering your predecessor. You realize, I hope, how vulnerable you are."
"If you kill us, the Mother will accept us with open arms," The second revealed not a trace of fear.
"I would suggest you not keep me waiting long." Matthew rubbed his chin, then retreated to where his men stood. He turned his head and whispered: "Surround the rest of the septs, make sure there's no escape for them." The High Sparrow's request had given him an opportunity.
Matthew observed the growing crowd, as they observed him. Many wore frightened faces, a few eager, and a handful narrowed their eyes with hatred. Old power structures, and the Faith of the Seven could hardly be described as anything else, didn't respond well to potential threats.
Sometimes I wish I didn't give a damn about long-term consequences. Tywin Lannister would have butchered them all without a second thought. Matthew wished for a peaceful realm, yet he was one of the few who felt that way. For all his efforts, he expected more bloodshed would be the only option.
Half an hour later, a septa opened the door, a woman in her 40s with a keen gaze. "The High Sparrow will speak with you now."
"Very well, but I do not intend to come alone." Matthew gestured for his Kingsguard to follow him, not giving the septa a chance to respond.
"What do you intend to do, nephew?" Jaime whispered in his ear.
"Whatever I have to." Matthew told the truth. Jewels and trinkets had been removed from the sept, leaving only stone and murals behind. He watched each entrance and exit, memorizing them for a future attack.
The Faith Militant surrounded them, numbering over a hundred. More than I'd been told existed. Matthew kept his hands away from his weapon. Let the enemy see him as afraid, even inside the belly of the beast. "I was told the High Sparrow resides here."
"He does." An old man broke from the crowd with a slight bow. His face was wrinkled, his feet covered in calluses, and his hair unkempt. "I trust I haven't kept you waiting long."
"Long enough," Matthew made it clear he wasn't to be trifled with.
"I apologize, Your Grace. I seldom feel more welcomed than when I am in the presence of the Gods." He approached Matthew with a neutral expression. His Kingsguard readied their swords for Matthew's order.
"Praying for forgiveness?" Matthew snarked. He observed whip marks on the Sparrow's back, a couple of which still possessed dried blood.
"Forgiveness is possible for all. All we need to do is ask."
"Stop playing games. You know why I'm here and it isn't to engage in a verbal sparring match. I have thousands of soldiers ready to march in here and put an end to your futile rebellion."
"If you were so confident in your position, you would not be attempting to negotiate." He kneeled down and began scrubbing the floor. "This Sept has fallen into a dreadful state of disrepair."
"Murdering the High Septon and countless others does make a certain impact in a holy building. He was a representative chosen by the Gods and you butchered him. What would the Seven think of you now?"
"He was not a true Septon." The High Sparrow shook his head. "A man too fat to walk, surrounded by luxury while others starve. The Gods will not tolerate such avarice."
"If I recall the Seven-Pointed Star, septs are supposed to be sanctuaries, which you and your followers have violated."
"We have all whipped ourselves in penance for the act." The High Sparrow and his followers shed their clothes to reveal whip marks. "But his death was no crime. He was a puppet for those in King's Landing, not a man chosen by the Gods. Already we have sold his gold and jewelry to buy food for the poor."
"Yes, very noble." Matthew crossed his arms. "But we still have the problem of your crimes and threats to murder more residents of this city. I just got done fighting a war. I don't intend to let you start another one."
"It is well known you are being led astray by false counsel. Someone is whispering lies into your ear."
"Going to have to be more specific. People lie to me every day." By this point, he'd grown adept at catching them.
"The red woman has turned you into a puppet, one that speaks on command. She and her followers are spreading heresy in the streets and you choose to do nothing. The False Septon followed your orders and ignored the Seven's words. But no one is beyond redemption. You have made efforts to look after the less fortunate, as the Seven demand of us all. Turn back to the true path, Your Grace."
"You're in no position to demand anything. I only agreed to meet you in an effort to avoid more bloodshed. You and your senior followers will be executed, of course. Killing the High Septon cannot go unpunished. But the Poor Fellows will receive mercy, provided they lie down their arms and swear an oath of loyalty to me."
"All of us knew we could die. None of us are afraid, for the Seven will bless us." The High Sparrow uttered a slight chuckle. "I'm no one of importance, even if you consider me such. Merely a humble man who serves the Gods and supports his fellows."
"It takes enormous arrogance to declare yourself Holier than the High Septon." Privately, Matthew thought he had a point about the man, but the High Sparrow's fanaticism was no better. "You have until the sun sets to agree to my terms. If not, all of your followers die." He hoped at least a few of them would consider his words.
The Faith Militant remained silent. All the Kingsguard drew their swords and surrounded Matthew. "If you wish my life, Your Grace, it is yours." The High Sparrow approached. "One man among many, all equal before the Gods." He stood in front of Barristan with a small smile.
"I don't recommend ignoring me. Others have done the same and paid for it." Matthew found himself surrounded. While he and the Kingsguard had plate armor and the Poor Fellows did not, fifteen to one odds weren't ones he fancied. "We've said what we had to." Matthew departed from the sept.
"Your Grace, why did you insist on meeting him yourself?" Jaime criticized when they were out. "Any messenger would have done just as good a job."
"I wanted to know what I was dealing with, and anyone I sent might leave out a few details." Matthew knew the High Sparrow would not bend and having him followers retreat appeared unlikely as well. "And. . . it wouldn't look good to see me cowering in the Red Keep."
XXXXXXXXXX
Daenerys struggled not to let despair overwhelm her at the latest news. Not only were Yunkai, Astapor, and Volantis besieging them, a Dothraki khalasar had decided to attack her as well. They were much smaller than Drogo's had been, perhaps one-fourth the size, but with the pale mare spreading on both sides, it would be enough.
I was a blind fool. Daenerys had believed once the masters were unknown, slavery would be destroyed and their lives transformed. Instead, some of those she freed were trying to sell themselves back into slavery.
She finished her deliberately modest meal. Although Daenerys had access to luxuries and her lover Daario did not hesitate to enjoy them, she decided to try and live under the same conditions of her people. "This siege is far from over, Your Grace." Beenero encouraged. "Those you freed still have faith and the city's walls cannot be breached."
"For how long?" Enemies on the outside, enemies within. . . at times, Daenerys marveled at how she had survived so long.
"Those who follow you fight for their freedom, for their lives. Many who besiege the city are slaves themselves, unable to imagine a different life. All we need to give them is hope." Beenero sat down. "I spent many years in their position, never knowing there was anything else."
Daenerys had not forgotten her ultimate pledge to avenge the wrongs her family suffered. As the last remaining Targaryen, it fell to her alone. Yet every decision she made only seemed to make things worse.
"The time will come. Perhaps your Unsullied could launch a spoiling attack, shatter their illusion of invincibility."
"Wait until nightfall and hit them then." Daenerys decided. "No torches, only shields and spears. Concentrate your efforts on the masters. Spare the slaves, unless given no other option but to engage them." Beenero nodded and moved to follow her orders. Many of her other advisors treated her as a child, even assuming they were loyal.
I could always use my children. Drogon, Rheagal, and Viserion grew larger every day, to where few even dared to approach them. If she could take three cities when they were babies, Daenerys could accomplish far more with them now.
Fire and Blood were her house words. Aegon had conquered an entire continent with fewer men-at-arms. No one had ever managed to kill a dragon, and if Daenerys refrained, those who followed her would lose faith.
Many already had. She'd given numerous concessions to her enemies within city walls, although it had only emboldened them, not brought peace. However, Daenerys would never allow slavery to reenter Meereen, no matter what it took to accomplish it.
"A pleasure to meet you at last, Your Grace." The small man bowed. Daenerys hid her disgust at his appearance with a polite smile. "I've come a long way to pledge my service to you."
"What could you possibly have to offer me?" Daenerys' eyes narrowed. She didn't like the look of whoever it was. Her Dothraki bodyguards twitched, ready to execute him should she command it. "And don't feed me any nonsense about believing in a noble cause. Few travel such a long distance on ideals alone."
"Then perhaps I should introduce myself." The dwarf took a low bow. "My name is Tyrion Lannister, former advisor to the man sitting the Iron Throne."
Traitor! His family had betrayed her father, and his brother had shoved a sword into his back. Daenerys chewed her lip, the fire within her screaming to make the dwarf suffer. "You are the son of the man who betrayed my father. My brother told me many stories of the Lannisters, yet you've put yourself in my grasp."
"Aren't you in the least bit curious as to why I'm here?" Tyrion looked around the room with a small smirk, though Daenerys had little trouble reading the fear within. "I endured a sea voyage and numerous assassination attempts to arrive here fully aware you could kill me."
Daenerys considered her options. She'd heard little of the dwarf, save for his father despising him. "You still have not answered my question. Why are you here?"
"Why, I've come to assist you on reclaiming your rightful throne." Tyrion paced around. "Surely that's at least worth some consideration."
"He has a dark heart, Your Grace." Beenero cautioned. "I do not recommend listening to another word." He spoke too quietly for Tyrion to hear.
I'm going to need allies. Viserys had believed people in Westeros secretly prayed for his return. Daenerys knew better than to listen to such tales. And Tyrion was in King's Landing and knew the players far better than she did. "What are you asking for in return?"
"Would you believe it's because I want someone on the Iron Throne who deserves to be there?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"Khalessi, let me take his tongue so he cannot spread his poison." A Dothraki raised his arakh.
"If you wish to have any hope of being by my side and forgiving your family's crimes, you will tell me the truth." Daenerys' voice went cold. Had it been his brother, she would have fed him to Drogon.
"They are not my family. All of them deserve everything you're intent on doing to them." Tyrion's hatred took her aback. He flexed his fingers, a smirk on the corner of his lips. "But if you want the Iron Throne, you're going to need help. You need someone who understands the Game of Thrones, someone who is willing to do whatever necessary to keep the throne. And I have knowledge that, without it, will lead to your death."
Daenerys raised a hand to prevent her bloodrider's outburst. "What can you tell me about the usurper's son?"
"He will not be an easy opponent. Unlike most in Westeros, he's aware of the danger you represent to him and has prepared from the moment he took the Iron Throne." Tyrion kneeled before her. "He possesses weapons unlike any seen before and has assembled his own army of peasant boys, bastards, and younger sons of minor lords."
Daenerys had heard no such stories and to her advisors, they reeked of falsehood. "Assuming you're telling me the truth, what would you have me do?" Once Slaver's Bay was pacified, she intended to set sail right to King's Landing. Walls could not stand against dragons.
"Not only does he have new weapons, he knows how to use them, yet the King possess a crucial weakness: politics. He has little understanding of political games and an obsession with a long-dead threat has led to crucial blunders. That is where you will defeat him."
Daenerys cared little for the turncoat Lannister and expected there was more Tyrion wasn't telling her. At the same time, she would need at least a few Westerosi allies if she were to regain her rightful throne. For too long, Daenerys had been trapped in Slaver's Bay, dealing with petty conflicts instead of taking what was hers.
"I will allow you to stay in Meereen as my guest, for now." Daenerys rose to her full height. "And you will have time to convince me of your worth. . . but if I think for a moment you're working against me, you will die begging. Is that understood?"
"I look forward to serving you in any way I can." Tyrion prostrate himself before her. "As a gesture of my loyalty, may I offer a piece of counsel?"
"Speak."
"Burn them all." Tyrion grinned. "Your enemies have interpreted restraint for weakness. You are Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons. Your words are Fire and Blood. Make an example of those outside your walls."
"You are dismissed, Tyrion." Daenerys waved her hand. He got the hint and departed while she considered his words, so similar to Daario's.
"Perhaps. . . he is right," Beenero considered after a few minutes of silence. "Killing everyone would only punish those conditioned to slavery, but we know where the masters are located. Show them what you're capable of and the rest would follow."
Beenero had always been the one to counsel restraint, so Daenerys raised an eyebrow. "You see no alternative?"
"I wish I did, Your Grace."
Her soldiers were outnumbered by more than four to one. While they could not breach Meereen's walls, Daenerys had been completely cut off. Qarth and Volantis' navy prevented any food from reaching them and the surrounded farmland had been destroyed.
It would be only weeks before they saw mass famine. How long would they keep faith under such conditions? "All right. I've heard enough." Daenerys made her decision. "There's only one thing to do now. I've held back because I didn't want to slaughter innocent people if it could be avoided. Now there's no other choice." The Masters had woken the Dragon.
XXXXXXXXXX
One hour left. Despite watching not existing in Westeros, Matthew could feel it in his soul. He shielded his eyes from the sun's rays and began his final preparations.
Only a handful had fled the septs and begged for mercy. Matthew ordered them taken into the Black Cells, intent on keeping his word despite everything. And hopefully, it will convince others to lay down their arms as well. Everyone in King's Landing would be watching his actions.
Matthew hid his distaste for Gregor Clegane, who stood beside him and would be first to charge in when the time came. The monster was like nothing human, twice the size of the next-largest man in his ranks. Matthew's original body would have only stood up to his chest.
"Your Grace, it does not appear likely there will be any other surrenders," Jaime whispered. "Wait any longer and you will appear weak."
"And if we break our word, we appear as butchers," Swann brought up a counterpoint.
"Has every sept been surrounded?" Matthew questioned, to which Jaime nodded. We've contained the immediate threat. He wasn't blind to what the High Sparrow intended to do. The man couldn't win militarily and knew it. Instead, he hoped the coming slaughter would martyr them and inspire others to take up his cause. "Good. Make sure everyone knows justice will be served for the High Septon's murderers."
Thirty minutes. Only a slight amount of daylight remained and no one else had left the sept. Matthew marched back and forth to ensure all his soldiers were prepared. He glanced up at the windows, not seeing any archers up there to rain arrows on his troops. Though they could still be waiting. That he saw no sign, however, gave evidence for his suspicions of martyrdom.
"Take that down before I shove it up your ass!" Matthew screamed at a soldier who held the Red God's banner. The repercussions would be bad enough without them. His subordinate wilted and did as commanded. I'm not going to let you win and doom us all. There were still the Others to worry about.
"The time's come, Your Grace." Gregor spoke. He had far too soft a voice for such a despicable man, far as Matthew was concerned.
"I gave them a chance and didn't take it. Execute the High Sparrow." Matthew nodded his assent. Messengers ran to the other formations to carry out his orders at the other septs.
Gregor charged in without another word, a vicious grin underneath his helmet. Hundreds of others stormed through each door, ensuring there was no escape. Matthew lowered his head, knowing there was no turning back. All I can do now is hope to contain the damage. The High Sparrow made his choice.
He waited alongside his Kingsguard, unwilling to take part in the slaughter. With little light remaining, all he could do was hear the carnage. Gregor was disgusting but the fear he inspired did have its uses. "This should be over soon." It was the first massacre he had ever ordered. Probably not the last, knowing Westeros.
Matthew pushed out the screams from inside the sept. No matter how many times he'd heard such things during the war, it wasn't something he'd ever gotten used to. The Kingsguard stood in equal silence. Barristan and Balon, at least, Matthew was certain disapproved of his choice.
It was over in a matter of minutes. His men marched out, infected with battle fever. Matthew looked over the blood on Gregor's armor. "How many casualties did we take?" He doubted the High Sparrow would bend, no matter the odds.
"No deaths, no injuries," one of his officers announced, face uncertain.
"How is that possible?" Matthew had anticipated heavy losses, given their weapons and fanaticism.
"They didn't make any attempt to fight back." The officer rubbed his chin. "Strangest damn thing I've ever seen. Made it a lot easier than I expected." Matthew wanted to scream before remembering he'd given the order to kill them.
Some troops were in their glory, but others looked ready to vomit. Matthew kept his face stoic while considering what to do next. I expected them to fight to the end, not let themselves be slaughtered! The High Sparrow was more clever than he imagined.
"All right, drag the bodies out of there and burn them." Matthew ordered. "Once the sun rises, we'll clean the blood out, see if we can purify the septs. Far as anyone else is concerned, they fought to the death and gave us no other option." He doubted it would stop the story from spreading. Having hundreds of people stay quiet, even under threat of death, was an unlikely proposition.
"This is going to end tonight, no matter what your hopes," Jaime pointed out. "We've killed people in a holy building and people aren't going to forget that."
"Let's make sure." Matthew headed inside the sept while a soldier handed him a torch. Twenty corpses littered the main room alone, blood and intestines spilled onto the floor. Nothing he hadn't seen countless times before.
He kneeled down to inspect the bodies, finding no weapons among the fallen. The nearest man's eyes were wide open, as if not daring to believe his fate. Matthew tore his robe off, the only thing the fallen individual possessed. Had he wanted to surrender, or was he a fanatic? No way to know.
"Where is the High Sparrow?" Matthew demanded.
"I cut him down myself, Your Grace." Gregor uttered and opened a side door, laughing to himself. The High Sparrow's head had been thrown several feet away from the rest of him, wearing a content expression.
You led these people to their deaths, you bastard. Matthew despised having nothing but bad choices in front on him. His severed head mocked them even in death. Matthew could almost feel his smug expression radiating off him. "Any survivors?"
"None. Saw to that myself." Matthew did his best not to think about what else Gregor had done to them. The images burned into his mind alongside countless others.
"All right, send a message to everyone in King's Landing that justice has been done for those who murder the High Septon." Matthew prayed it would mitigate the damage. "Mention each and every one of the Septons and Septas these fanatics killed. Remind them of the supreme penalty for killing a Holy Man." Holy men growing fat and corrupt while everyone else suffers.
Matthew marched back to the Red Keep. None of his soldiers said a word, processing what they had just done. For some, it had been their first experience at combat. . . although massacre would have been a better term. It wouldn't be the last one he committed, no doubt.
Eyes on his destination, Matthew arrived at Cersei's doorstep. None of her guards moved, though he dared them to try and stop him. "I wish to speak to my mother." They nodded and scrambled away. His grip on the doorknob tightened until he could feel it crack underneath him.
Cersei lie in bed with a candle next to her, eyes closed but not yet asleep. "The High Sparrow will not be a problem any longer, no thanks to you. What were you thinking, giving them weapons?" Not that they used them, despite the capability.
She moved to a sitting position. "So everything's gone as planned, I see." Cersei's lip curled into a smirk. "I knew he'd jump on such on opportunity and that you'd put him down like the fool that he was, just as father would have. We've lowered the Crown's debt by a million dragons and sent a message to our enemies."
Matthew flexed his fingers, considering what to do with Cersei. She'd been little but a Millistone since he'd arrived in Westeros. "You don't have the slightest understanding of what you've done." Matthew placed his fist against the stone. "He intended to turn himself to a martyr, spark a conflict that would slaughter everyone he considered heretics. That includes us. My grandchildren may be dealing with the aftermath of your stupidity. I've spent far too much time cleaning up your messes and I'm done with it."
Cersei went quiet, her confident smile gone. She found herself unable to look him in the eye, unsure what her son would do next. "Therefore, I'm going to do what I should have done years ago. Let someone else deal with your stupidity. Leave for Casterly Rock tomorrow morning and do not return. You're Kevan's problem now."
"Sweetie, why. . . I can't abandon you in this city." Cersei whispered. "After your wedding, you need. . ."
"I need competent people surrounding me and you don't quality." Matthew knew Cersei saw it as her own son denouncing her and almost felt sorry for her. Almost. "You killed Littlefinger and turned the Vale into our enemy, not to mention Renly's attack on us. You attempted to withhold crucial information, which could have doomed us. I'm done tolerating it, and I have nothing more to say to you, Mother." Matthew slammed the door without another word.
XXXXXXXXXX
Yes, I know numerous dragons have been killed by other methods, but Viserys strikes me as the kind of person who would omit this in his tales. The next chapters details the Siege of Meereen and Daenerys may run into a few unpleasant surprises.