Just for a bit of clarification, this story is not a self-insert. Matthew's the main character of a nuclear war novel I wrote years ago and never got around to published. Perhaps one day, I'll get around to it.
I apologize for the long delay. I've been working almost constantly, leaving me little time for anything else. Once I'm no longer working 12 hours a day, updates should be a bit faster.
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"Tell me, then: why should my fleet not sail to King's Landing?" Daenerys narrowed her eyes at the dwarf. "Let my people see their rightful queen return." Her fleet would not be ready for months, by which time winter would already have arrived. However, Daenerys refused to wait any longer. With the rebellion crushed, it was time to move on to her birthright.
"I do understand the temptation, Your Grace, but you would unite the squabbling lords against your cause." Tyrion gulped down a second goblet of wine. Daenerys suspected he did so merely to aggravate her. "It is imperative you be seen as a liberator, not a conqueror. Furthermore, my nephew is prepared for your arrival and it would be best to do something he doesn't expect."
"They will bend the knee or I will burn the city to the ground." Even as she said them, Daenerys prayed it would not come to that. To destroy her own ancestor's city wasn't a line she was ready to cross.
"Strong words, Your Grace, but your dragons can only occupy territory. They cannot hold it down, nor can you rule with them alone. Even Aegon failed to pacify Dorne and he possessed dragons far larger than yours." Tyrion gulped down the rich portion of food in front of him, available to only a few in Meereen. At least for now, Daenerys intended to treat him as an ally.
"Then what would you suggest? You know my home better than I do." She hated admitting it, but Daenerys had no memories of Westeros.
"You're going to need allies if you wish to reclaim the Iron Throne and I have the perfect one in mind." Tyrion finished his meal with a smile. "The War of Five Kings was started when Catelyn Stark seized me. They bear the Lannisters little love and even though they were beaten on the field, many would be eager for a chance at vengeance."
"The very family who betrayed mine?" Her eyes burned with fury.
"Your Grace, you must adapt to changing circumstances. They did rise up in revolt, but Aerys gave them ample cause." Tyrion paused before his next words. "Your father burned one family member alive while the son watched. This has not been forgotten, but they've formed new grudges in the meantime, and you are not Aerys."
"That's nothing but a lie. . ." Daenerys' voice trailed off. She'd sometimes wondered if her father had been the perfect man Viserys described, but to hear of such crimes being committed. . .
"I apologize, Your Grace, but it is true. The Starks have been stripped of their title. Roose Bolton is now Warden of the North, though I don't expect he'll keep the position long. Overthrow him, restore the Stark family, and you'll have their undying gratitude."
"I will have plenty of time to decide, won't I?" Since his arrival, Tyrion had given Daenerys knowledge of everything he knew about the Seven Kingdoms. More than once, she'd had to ask him to repeat himself, with so much to process. She intended to liberate the smallfolk from the Lannisters, just as Slaver's Bay no longer deserved its name.
"Taking King's Landing would end the war there and then," Daenerys continued to push. It belonged to her family and she intended to make sure it would again.
"Would you charge headlong into a trap? I spent time listening to the man's plans and he's anticipating a direct attack on King's Landing. With new weapons and a growing army, he'll destroy you before you can react. Meraxes fell to a ballista bolt, a dragon far more formidable than yours. I do not know the full extent of the capabilities of these things but they're a lot more powerful."
"I want to end this war quickly, with minimal loss of life." Part of Daenerys wondered if Tyrion was a fake defector. "Too many innocents have died already."
"Your Grace, it will take months for things to settle down enough to where you can sail. This will allow him more time to bolster his defenses. Losing Tywin is a formidable blow, but one he can recover from." Tyrion lowered his wine goblet and folded his hands. "You want to strike him at his strongest point. I'm advising you to hit him where he's weak. Liberate the Starks, and you'll have both the North and the Riverlands behind you. He's allied with the Tyrells, but they won't fight for a losing cause."
"If the usurper is building up, shouldn't I hit him before he has the opportunity?"
"Your Grace, if you are lucky, you will have perhaps 10,000 fighters ready to set sail for your cause. Some of them will die from disease on the way. I too am eager to take the fight to him, but patience can be a virtue. With winter imminent, warfare will be all but impossible for him."
And it will be possible for me? Essos wasn't as badly affected in the winter years, but they still suffered the effects. "Where would you have me sail?"
"White Harbor. The Manderlys are friends of the Starks. Provided you restore them as Warden of the North, they'll follow you anywhere. Any Bolton counterattack will be something your dragons can repel. All Stark's vassals need is an opportunity to rise up."
"I doubt this is something that will go unnoticed." It had been so simple when Viserys described his dream: The Kingdoms rising up for their rightful leader. We can beat them on any battlefield. She'd done the same in Slaver's Bay, but it proved to be much more complicated. "He has assassins everywhere." Daenerys' heart twinged at the loss of Jorah.
"The North is impossible for anyone to hold. Many have tried over the centuries, only for the Northerners to leave them with nothing to subsist on. After that, it was a foregone conclusion. Yes, he'll continue his preparations, but he knows what sending an army to the North will do, so he won't.
"There is one final suggestion, a way beyond any doubt to get their support: a marriage alliance."
Daenerys jumped back at that. She'd given little thought to marrying anyone, nor did she wish to lose her authority. "If I am correct, Kings are above Queens when it comes to ruling?"
"Generally, but not always. I don't know if Robb Stark is still alive, but there is his bastard half-brother. I can't imagine either of them capable of resisting you. And both follow their father in terms of honor. You would have nothing to fear from either of them."
Daenerys and Tyrion argued strategies and plans until the sun had set. Eventually, Tyrion convinced her a direct assault on King's Landing was not in her best interest. If I have to marry to form an alliance, there are worse choices. She wouldn't be able to produce heirs, but that was a worry for another time.
"We'll be ready in a matter of weeks to sail away. Daario can keep things under control until the war's over." Daenerys knew he had the ruthlessness she didn't. Tyrion didn't look convinced, but it wasn't up to him.
Why did I decide to have him as an ally? Tyrion's eagerness for revenge against his family unsettled her. However badly Viserys treated her, he was still her brother and a part of Daenerys still loved him. One thing to have him only interested in revenge, but. . . She intended to view his advice with a skeptical eye.
Needing a break from court politics, Daenerys walked out of the Great Pyramid alongside numerous Unsullied. She unconsciously fingered the chain mail underneath her gown, on the off chance an assassin got past her bodyguards. None of them spoke a single word, watching every bystanders with keen eyes.
Daenerys spotted corpses piled in the center of the street and burned, with mourners whispering prayers around them. Since the battle was won, things began to improve, but there was still a long way to go.
"I'm going to the great pits," Daenerys told them. She wanted to make sure her dragons were healing from the wounds they endured. I'll need to be more careful in the future. Dragons don't make me invincible.
Some still stared at her with admiration, but far fewer than was once the case. More were growing accustomed to not being slaves and some former Masters decided to give up and accept their situation, at least on the surface.
More Unsullied surrounded the Great Pits, giving her a respectful nod as she passed. There wouldn't be an army in Westeros that could stand up to their prowess. One of her dragons uttered a soft cry, making her pick up the pace.
Daenerys' eyes widened at Beenero's hands radiating red light, bathing Rheagal in its power. Her child did nothing to defend itself, closing its eyes and relaxing against the ground. What is he doing? Whatever it was, she intended to put an end to it. "Get away from my children! What are you doing to him?"
"I beg your apologies, Your Grace," Beenero bowed low. "I am doing nothing to harm them. If anything, they benefit from each of my visits."
"You are near them without my permission, nor did you even tell me about the visits." Her children could defend themselves from attack, but Daenerys knew the possibility of poison. Daenerys told herself to stay steady. Beenero had claimed to possess magic, but this was the first conclusive proof she'd seen of it. She looked around at her Unsullied, who appeared no less shaken than her.
"Have you not wondered why your dragons have been growing so quickly?" Beenero expressed a smile. Her Unsullied surrounded him, yet he revealed no sign of fear. "Or did you think they naturally grew so fast?"
"I. . . I'd thought it natural," Daenerys stammered, on the verge of giving the order to kill him. "My ancestors possessed far larger dragons."
"Yes, those who were decades or even centuries old." Beenero went to a single knee. "I apologize for keeping this from you, Your Grace, but they would not have been large enough to take into battle if it were not for my actions. You would have had to wait for perhaps five years for them to be ready, far too long."
"You've been putting spells on my children, without my knowledge or permission." Her Unsullied raised their spears as an act of intimidation. Beenero gave nothing but a curious look. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't crucify you."
"If that is your order, then I will accept it," Beenero smiled. "I swore myself to your side, even if it requires my death. It has done nothing to harm your children. Quite the contrary; they are stronger and healthier than ever."
Rheagal grinned in response, spraying flame into the air. He curled his body around Beenero almost protectively. "Why didn't you mention this to me earlier?"
"I am sorry, Your Grace. I did not know how you would respond. Many fear the Lord of Light's powers, even those whom we seek to help."
"Lying to me was a very big mistake." Daenerys wondered how far she could trust him. She'd known the Priest had his own agenda from the outset. No sooner did she take a step forward, however, than Rheagal huffed at her hard enough for her to stumble. Drogon moved to defend Daenerys, but Rheagal made no attempt to harm her.
"You cannot argue with the results, I'm sure. I want your children to be safe, to have every sort of protection available." Beenero gave a deep bow. "Just as any mother would."
In contrast to Tyrion and others, Beenero often counseled the merciful approach. And yet he says my destiny is to end slavery everywhere. "This will end now, and if I see a single sign what you've done has harmed them, any at all, your death will make that of the Great Masters appear merciful by comparison."
"I understand, Your Grace. If you decide this is my time to die, then I will not stop you. I will be content to know I have helped you to the best of my ability." Beenero turned around. "Many have claimed to be able to end injustice, but you are the first one that has convinced me something could be done about it."
"You have lied to me. I will forgive you. . . once. But I do not believe in third chances. Don't give me any reason to rethink my decision." Daenerys opted against executing him, hoping it wouldn't backfire on her.
"If I may speak, I do not recommend trusting the dwarf. I see nothing but blackness in his heart, twisted and evil. Kinslaying is the ultimate evil, yet he intends to exterminate them all. I have seen him in the flames, a deformed creature laughing at the atrocities he commits."
"He knows Westeros far better than I do." Daenerys didn't intend to trust the man, but Tyrion would be useful.
"He is a poison, but I will respect your decision." Beenero bowed a final time.
The battle in Slaver's Bay had been won. It wouldn't be long before she possessed the Iron Throne as well.
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Robb paced around the small castle, tired of being confined in such a location. He looked out the windows to see little but swamp. Despite the fact it was a natural defensive barrier to invasion, he'd had more than enough of The Neck. It never ceased to amaze him how people made their homes there.
"I trust you're doing well, My Lord." Howland Reed greeted him with a bow. A man of nearly sixty, Howland was slightly shorter than Robb, but possessed the air of a man with experience. Grey eyes bore into the young Stark.
"I've waited long enough in this place," Robb did his best to keep his temper under control. "Bolton's betrayed me, my mother and sister are being tormented by Joffrey, and you still counsel patience." Robb had refused to return to Winterfell after his loss, not when Bolton was Warden of the North. It would only have led to his death.
"Your Lord Father felt the same way after Rheagar disappeared with Lyanna," Reed responded in a calm tone. "I counseled him then that the time would come. Winter has arrived and we must prepare."
"All the more reason Bolton has to be stopped." A man who possessed no honor had no business ruling the North. If half the stories he'd heard about the man and especially his bastard son were true, Robb feared for everyone. "Jon, Arya. . . they'll never be safe so long as he's alive."
"Events are already in motion, My Lord." Reed sat down next to him while Robb ate. "Bolton's hold over the North is precarious at best. Far as Westeros is concerned, you're dead. Best not shatter the illusion just yet."
"They don't have to know I'm the one coming." Robb considered. Howland's words made sense, however much he loathed them. Mother, Sansa, I'll make sure you're free of him. Theon had failed and was presumed killed. First, the North will be liberated. Then I'll focus on them. Jon and Arya were safe at the Wall for the time being. He'd wanted to send a raven to his brother, but Howland had counseled against it.
"You won't have to wait much longer. Even Robert Baratheon knew the value of patience, at least after your father's counsel."
"Very well." Robb knew patience was a virtue, however much he wanted to charge into the fray. With the Lannisters still on the Iron Throne, it was not the right time. So far as he was concerned, they could have the ugly iron chair, so long as Sansa and his mother returned to Winterfell.
In the Crannog, news from the South was inconsistent. Last Robb heard, the Tyrells had thrown their lot in with Joffrey despite warring with one another. Famine and bandits gripped the Riverlands, which nobody appeared to be able to do anything about.
Robb shivered and wrapped a fur coat around his body. Much of the swamp had turned into a thin layer of ice, the surrounding vegetation shriveling away. He'd yet to become accustomed to the damp air threatening to suffocate his lungs.
And now winter is here. So long as it lasted, fewer crops would be grown and harvested. He worried for the Riverlands, who had suffered the worst of the fighting. Robb doubted Joffrey would do a thing to assist them.
He spent his days sparring with men-at-arms, correcting his errors and learning to counter each style of fighting. Robb refused to be idle. Even if his swordsmanship would never match his half-brother's, he had learned enough on the battlefield to survive.
I've still got to find a way to counter his new weapons. Robb had underestimated them once, to his great cost. He refused to do so a second time. From what he remembered, they were powerful, but slow to reload, and their crews were vulnerable to counterattack. Should have thought more clearly, chosen a different battlefield. Attacking such a position from across a river hadn't been his brightest move.
After a couple weeks, Robb could not bring himself to delay any longer and mounted a horse. He would take back Winterfell, using the mountain clans if it proved necessary. Those who survived the battle needed no encouragement to follow his lead.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Reed." Robb nodded his head. "I would not have made it were it not for you."
"I've no intention of making you travel such a journey alone." Howland marched into the stables and climbed onto his steed. "Few know the swamps better than me. I will not risk your life any more than necessary."
"It's an honor to have you beside me. Father always spoke very well of you." Already plans for the next battle formed in his head. Joffrey wouldn't get away with his trick a second time.
"He's the best man I've ever known." Howland nodded. "But that's not the only reason I'm coming with you. There's a lot you don't know, that none of you know. And it'll be best if it comes from me. Once we're reunited with your brother, I'll tell you everything. You have my word on it."
"I'll hold you to that." Robb no longer took a bannerman's word at face value, as he would have before the war. First, I need to regain control of Winterfell. His ancestors had chosen not to wipe out the Boltons, a mistake he refused to repeat. He knew the castle better than Roose ever would.
And once Winterfell was his, Robb intended to release Jon from his vows. He deserves better than to spend his life on the Wall. I'll need him for the coming war. If Joffrey didn't expect a war in winter, he was about to receive a vicious surprise.
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"Daenerys is sailing to Westeros," Matthew announced to his Small Council. "The only question is, where is she intending to land?" He'd come up with several possibilities, but a wrong guess would be disastrous.
"Are you sure she will strike so soon, Your Grace?" Davos spoke up.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Admittedly, all three cities in Slaver's Bay will collapse the instant she leaves, but that's not going to matter to her." Matthew placed his hands on the table. "How many of our ships are operational?"
"Thanks to our reinforcements, there are eighty-six ships waiting in the Bay of King's Landing," Garlan spoke up. Since his marriage to Margaery, Garlan had become an advisor to him, rather than a hostage. "Once she attacks King's Landing, we'll break her upon the walls. Dothraki and Unsullied are formidable, but have no naval experience."
"No, I don't expect her to attack there." Matthew considered his next words. He'd prepared for a direct assault on the Capital, but Tyrion had defected to her, despite his best efforts to eliminate him. She won't be coming here, not if she knows she isn't strong enough for it. Then where? "If I were Tyrion, what would I advise her to do?"
"She has three dragons, and most have heard the tales of how dangerous they are," Stannis pointed out. "What we first need to accomplish is breaking her aura of invincibility. Even if her dragons are small compared to Aegon's, even young dragons are capable of decisive victory."
"I estimate she will depart within the month," His Master of Whisperers claimed. "My spies tell me Daenerys is anxious to conclude everything in Slaver's Bay for her journey."
"And what of her force composition?" Dothraki and Unsullied were fierce fighters on land. Matthew had comprised a few tactics against mobile archery, but still didn't know how effective his musketeers would really be. Maybe two thousand muskets, not nearly what I'd hoped to have by this point.
"I have various estimates, but there are thousands of Unsullied, perhaps 20,000 men in total."
"Probably a bit less than that taking the journey into account," Stannis rubbed his chin. "They are not well-equipped for sea warfare."
"Then that's exactly where I'll hit them." Matthew knew he wasn't as well-versed on medieval sea battles that he was on land. "Is the wildfire ready? I'm going to enjoy introducing her to the concept of irony."
"Your Grace, you mean to place wildfire on these ships?" Davos' eyes widened. "She has dragons and if their flame touch the wildfire. . ."
"Everything in war is risky. Place the wildfire jars in boxes of sand, load it into the siphons on the bow of the ships, and wait for them to get in close." Matthew took a deep breath. "However powerful her dragons are, they have their limitations. They won't be able to take off from ships, limiting their offensive capability, not to mention all the food they require to survive." He wished he was more confident of that, but still had limited knowledge of what dragons could actually do.
"She still has no first hand knowledge of Westeros, though the traitor has doubtless told her everything he knows," Stannis continued. "She'll be searching for allies and the North remembers. They do not forgive and even holding hostages may not be enough to deter them."
If she's sailing to the North, she'll land in White Harbor. It's the only port large enough to accommodate them. A secondary possibility was Dragonstone, her ancestral seat. The Seven Kingdoms had not considered Aegon to be a threat. Matthew didn't intend to make the same mistake.
"Send every ship we have to intercept them. Our best chance to win this war now is to end it before it starts. Dothraki have no experience at sea, nor does she. How many ships have been equipped with cannons?"
"Eight, Your Grace," Davos answered.
"Thought as much." All ships possessed at least half a dozen ballistas and Matthew had instructed them to use interlocking fields of fire. Hopefully, they'd listen to him when the time came. "It'll have to do. Unlikely as it might be to hit a moving target on the open sea, I don't want to face the Unsullied on a battlefield unless given no other option."
"Your Grace, what if she is sailing to King's Landing?" Garlan interjected. "If you're wrong, you'll leave the city defenseless without a navy of our own."
"Chance we're going to have to take." Daenerys wasn't going to King's Landing; that much Matthew was positive of. "Unlike our ancestors, we will be united against foreign invaders. Once we prove she can be beaten, the fear will disappear." And fewer traitors in the mix. One solid victory and he'd be facing enemies from North and South. "I'll keep them at Dragonstone, prepared to face her either there or at White Harbor."
"The men are terrified of her," Davos cautioned. "Some believe dragons cannot be killed by mere men."
"That is why I am assigning you to command the fleet, Lord Seaworth," Matthew decided. "You know the seas better than anyone here, all the secret coves that do not exist on any map."
Davos looked ready to object but a glance from Stannis convinced him otherwise. "I will do my duty, Your Grace."
"I can ask nothing more of you." Wonder if he knows I'm sending him to his likely death. Probably. Davos had little formal education, but was far from a foolish man. Matthew doubted the war would be ended so easily. Still, he wasn't about the waste an opportunity to hit Daenerys at her weakest point. Any ship they destroyed was one she couldn't use to resupply from the Narrow Sea.
Matthew spent the entire day debating with his Small Council over war preparations. Nobody said a word, but he could hear the defeat in their tone. They don't think it's possible to win. Matthew wasn't sure himself, but refused to resign to defeat. Everyone had a weakness; it was only a question of finding it.
Although he had hoped to keep Daenerys' arrival secret, word rapidly spread throughout the Red Keep. Ladies huddled together in whispers, goosebumps appearing on their skin. Men-at-arms bragged of their combat prowess, only to tremble when they thought no one was looking.
Matthew did his best to pretend that everything was normal, or what passed for normal at Court. If he revealed any visible fear, everyone else would go into a panic. So long as he wasn't stabbed in the back again, he was at least reasonably sure Daenerys could be beaten. Daenerys and the Night King, or whatever the equivalent is. Seems a bit much to ask at times.
He vented his frustration both on the training dummies and between the sheets with Margaery. She revealed no concern, any more than he did, but both knew how the other felt.
He let out an involuntary shiver. Winter had arrived in Westeros and everyone did their best to prepare. Beyond a few snowflakes, King's Landing had not seen any storms yet, but it was only a matter of time. And until winter is over, crop growth will be limited. Matthew still didn't understand what the cause of the strange seasons were.
One evening, when the sun was about to set, Melisandre came to meet Matthew during his training exercises. "What do you wish to speak with me about, Melisandre?" As she was rarely one for small talk, he expected the news would be unpleasant.
"Do you expect to win this war, Your Grace?" Melisandre turned her head. "I have heard the rumors, but as I was not allowed in your meeting, little more."
"I apologize. Some people are still wary of the powers you possess." And I don't need infighting when I'm facing my greatest threat.
"Your Grace, you have accomplished much, more than what many have expected of you." Melisandre gave a slight bow. "But this will not be enough to survive the coming war. You need more."
"I'm not converting to your religion. The last thing we need is religious strife to tear the realm apart." Although his propaganda campaign had helped, some still believed he'd butchered the High Sparrow at the behest of the Red God. Those who still attempted to convert others on the streets did little to quiet the matter.
"I understand, of course, but that's not what I'm here for. You need something else to triumph, something I can provide for you." Melisandre placed a hand on his shoulder and moved close.
"What can you offer, beyond what you've already done? While I don't understand these abilities of yours, they've done a lot to assist me, so thank you."
"I have only what the Lord of Light blesses me with. Even if you defeat the Dragon Queen, what then? We still have the great war to consider."
"Well, unlike everyone else, I've been preparing for it, in case you didn't notice." Matthew raised his voice. "Seems a bit much to ask of me dealing with the fate of the world."
"The Lord of Light gives us no more than we can handle." Melisandre placed an arm around his shoulder. "But that doesn't require facing them alone. There is a way to face the Dragon Queen on equal terms."
"I'm listening."
"You and I will need to travel to Dragonstone."
"Put myself in the line of fire?" Matthew wouldn't hesitate on a land battle, but wasn't as confident in naval tactics. "I'm not sure even you could protect me there."
"No. Davos will be able to command them without your help. I mean something greater. There is a stone dragon on Dragonstone, and locked within is ancient power you can use to crush all your enemies."
This sounded vaguely familiar to him. "And I'll merely need a human sacrifice, or more likely, many human sacrifices. How am I doing so far?"
"Most astute, Your Grace, but unlocking the stone dragon will require more. I will need the blood of a King. I understand your hesitation, but you understand what is at stake. Millions will die when winter comes. Nothing can stop that. Without every weapon at your disposal, every man, woman, and child will perish."
"And this will allow me to defeat Daenerys?" She would still have three dragons to his one, but the scale would balance in his favor. "Question is, what kind of price am I going to have to pay for this?"
"A great gift will require great sacrifice: the blood of a King. Your supposed siblings are not an option, as such creatures will never be accepted by the Lord of Light." Melisandre paused.
"How can I be sure this is even going to work? I've never read of any cases where a dragon was born from stone, even in legends."
"It is true that not long ago, what I promise would have been impossible. Now magic is returning to the world. Whether the dragon's return is the cause or was made possible by its strength, I do not know. Your Grace, I can allow you to have a dragon of your own, loyal to you and powerful enough to face our great enemy."
"Who would I have to sacrifice?" After so many choices, Matthew's conscience no longer ached the way it once did.
"Edric Storm has the necessary blood to wake the dragon. Stannis is another option as well."
"Thought you considered him Azor Ahai." Matthew expected she was beginning to think he was.
"I do, but there is the possibility that he has reborn into more than one man. And even he was forced to make great sacrifices for victory. Shireen has what we require as well."
Matthew's heartbeat stayed steady. "If we sacrifice Shireen, Stannis will become my enemy. I don't intend to alienate him, or the Stormlands, even if their support has been half-hearted. If I take this step, we'll have to use Edric. Is there any way to. . . dull the pain, make his death easier?"
"Any attempt to do so would render the ritual ineffective."
"Figures. If it requires a powerful sacrifice. . . I could always use you to create this dragon." Matthew waited to hear her reaction.
"If the Lord of Light requires it, I will give up my life for him." Melisandre didn't appear in the least annoyed. "Many will have to do the same if we are to survive.
Having a dragon of my own. . . Matthew found himself intrigued by the power. If he rode a dragon, he could lay waste to armies and strongholds that defied him. I'd have this world's equivalent of a nuclear weapon at my disposal. Who would dare rise up against me then? Matthew shook himself out of it. Now I'm sounding like Joffrey.
"I hope you know to keep this quiet. The last thing I want are rumors of human sacrifice spread in court. Your God might find it acceptable, but both the old gods and the new consider it an abomination." Am I going to do this? No sooner did Matthew ask the question than he knew the answer.
"Such sacrifices have been performed many times when things are at their darkest. Many others do not understand, but you do. You've faced such circumstances before."
"No one in the Seven Kingdoms will be able to stand against us!" Joffrey crowed. "Dorne's already plotting, the North will mobilize, even with the Stark bitches under our control."
I hate when you make sense, Matthew groaned. "Tell absolutely no one about this. I have no intention of making this a public event, no matter how devout your followers." He narrowed his eyes. "But if this doesn't work, you will be the one to suffer the consequences." Crossed a lot of lines I never thought I would. One life against millions; what's one more, at this point?
XXXXXXXXXX
Ice blue eyes looked over its surroundings. Nearly 200,000 human and beat wights had been assembled, more than enough to overwhelm the trivial defenses the wall still possessed.
A figure walked through the center, standing almost eight feet tall. Its fellows followed without a word, all of them possessing a supernatural beauty, men and women both.
Why do we not strike now? One asked without opening his mouth.
The figure paused to consider his subordinate's words. After all, they'd been building their army for years while humanity was oblivious to their presence. Their wall would not pose the obstacle the few who believed in them considered it to be.
We will wait for when the time is right. He'd waited for this moment for more than a century. He could wait a while longer.
After all, when your enemy was making a mistake, best not to interrupt him.
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Well, the clash I've been building up to for almost 40 chapters is about to begin. There are a lot of parallels with Matthew and Daenerys, both placed in a situation they're not prepared for, overwhelmed by politics, but still wanting to do the right thing. What I want to explore is, how far will they go when their backs are against the wall?
As for magic having the dragons grow faster than normal, it's a reference to GRRM's original plan of a five-year gap in between the third and fourth books. Another reason why my personal belief is that he's written himself into a corner and struggles to find a way out.