Disclaimer – This fanfiction was not written by me; it belongs to the user Gladiusone on alternatehistory & spacebattles, by publishing it here I only intend to bring it to a wider audience and make it available for offline reading. I do not claim any ownership of the content.
A Game of Kings and SIs
Chapter 1
"Your Grace? Your Grace, it is time for you to arise."
I blinked as I sat up in bed, and the woman lying next to me shifted in her sleep as curtains were pulled aside and let streams of light into the room. My head pounded, and my mouth felt like a sewer, and the annoying chatter of whoever was talking sent spikes of pain into my temples as I ...
... crap.
Memories flooded into my brain as I suddenly realised that I had lived two lives. In one, I was an Australian citizen, university graduate, sci-fi geek and fanfic author, and in the other ...
I tossed the blankets off and looked down, but my view was obscured by a massive black beard. Looking past that, I seemed to have an extremely fit body, quite unlike the one I remembered going to bed wearing, with well developed arms and a waist that, if not exactly trim, lacked the layers of fat that had dogged me all my adult life. This was the body of a warrior, and distantly I remembered the years of riding, hunting, fencing and swinging a massive war hammer that had earned it.
I held two sets of memories, and for the moment I couldn't decide which was the real one: was I really sitting in a nursing home, drooling as I could not remember my own name, or was I really in a castle chamber, with a stranger's history in my head? Either way I was likely completely insane ... or worse: I had become a Self Insert character.
My ears tuned back into the servant as he puttered around the room. "... and of course, the preparations for the feast are complete, and all the guests are preparing for the ceremony ... Your Grace? Are you well?"
I blinked again, and the man's name appeared in my memory. "Ah ... yes, Timmons, I think I am. Too much wine last night ... perhaps I should avoid that in future." The servant almost dropped the wine goblet he was holding out for me, but I accepted it anyway. "Just a taste," I reassured him, "And then I think watered wine and fruit juice for the rest of today: it wouldn't do to embarrass myself in front of the guests, would it?"
Timmons bowed, and nattered on as I swallowed a mouthful, then handed the goblet back and stood up, striding over to the window. I looked out, and stared in wonder at a sight that was both new and familiar, strange and routine.
Somehow, some Alien Space Bastard had decided to drop me into the brain of King Robert Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm ... on the day of his marriage to Ceresi Lannister.
One half of me knew the history this world, and the other knew the history of the next twenty years.
I was in so much trouble.
*** *** ***
The life of a king was one surrounded by servants and guards, and more so on the day of that sovereigns wedding. Kingsguard in white-enamelled armour and white cloaks followed me wherever I went, and stayed either in the room, or just outside. Plainly dressed servants helped me dress, and at my order, trimmed my hair and beard to a more manageable length. I was still working out where the author who went by Gladius ended and King Robert began, but for the most part I still felt like I had woken up in the wrong body, and if I had to wear a beard, I wasn't going to look like an oversized dwarf.
The barber lifted a polished mirror for me to examine his handiwork, and I ran my fingers through my now close-cut, neat beard and short, curly hair. "Well done: exactly what I wanted." With a deep bow, the servant withdrew, taking his cutting tools with him, under the watchful eye of one of the White Cloaks.
After picking at my breakfast (I didn't feel the need for a massive meal, despite Robert's former preferences) I took the opportunity to take a walk through the Red Keep, watching the servants put the last few finishing touches on the decorations for the afternoon's ceremony. I felt rather than saw the form of Lord Commander Barristan Selmy fall into step behind me as I walked, and I smiled. "Good morning, Ser Barristan," I said in a welcoming tone. "A beautiful day for a wedding, eh?" I did my best to use Robert's boisterous voice, but I'm afraid a little of my other personality bled through, because the knight paused a moment before responding.
"Indeed, Your Grace. The gods are showing their approval on the festivities."
"Perhaps." I paused next to a window, and looked out across the city. I could feel Barristan's confusion and curiosity: Robert had never been a reflective or respectful king. "You and your brothers must be stretched to the limit, with this whole rigmarole: so many guests, so many strangers in the Red Keep."
"We do our duty," was the simple response, and I nodded.
"Aye: and that, Ser Barristan, is why I asked you to take up the mantle of Lord Commander last year. Because you are a man of honour and duty: I never said so before, and I regret that."
Another pause. "Thank you, Your Grace."
I smiled, and glanced over to the knight. "I'm confusing you, I know it." I rubbed my hand over my short beard, as though surprised to feel it. "I'm confusing myself, as well. Have you ever woken up one day, and had a sudden realisation of your position and what it meant? That your rank and duty is given to you for a reason, and that you've been failing to live up to your responsibilities? No," I waved his answer away before he could speak, "I don't think you ever would."
"I don't know, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said softly, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face, "We all have our moments."
"Ha! Absolutely," I agreed, and looked back out the window. "There are days that sober even the biggest drunk - and I'm one of the biggest, don't deny it!" I turned and faced him head on. "I've spent too long wallowing in the past, Ser Barristan. The future lies ahead, beginning, I believe, with a wedding! So, onwards! What's first for the day?"
Ser Barristan fell into step with me as we headed down the corridor. "First, Your Grace, the Hand of the King has requested a short audience ..."
*** *** ***
"Jon," I cried, clasping wrists with my old friend, and he smiled in return, although he looked somewhat confused by my new haircut. "Forget the beard, man, I felt like a change. A fine day for it, eh? Come, sit down, man." Robert remembered being fostered under this man at the Aerie, and for the last six months had been leaving much of the rigmarole of kingship to Jon, rather than bothering to deal with it himself, preferring to drink and wench and spend the inherited treasury. Many things will change, I promised myself.
We sat, and wine was poured for each of us, and we both drank, although Jon's eyebrows rose as I took just a sip then set my cup aside. "As I said, a day for changes," I explained, before growing more serious. "I haven't been much of a king, have I?" I said calmly.
Jon started, "Your Grace, I -"
"Jon," I interrupted, "In private, I am Robert, as I always have been to you, since I was a boy, when Ned and I were your wards. I have ill-used you this past half year, and I fear I will continue to do so. I was never raised to be a king, and I never paid any attention to you when you tried to train me to be Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. In the years to come, I will still need your help."
Jon looked at me, as though having never seen me before in his life. He's half right in that. "This ... is unexpected, Robert," he admitted, "But in many ways welcome."
"And not before time, eh?" I joked, and we shared a smile together. "Anyway, enough of the maudlin stuff. It's an important day, isn't it?"
"Indeed," said the older lord, now on more settled ground. "By marrying Cersei Lannister, you'll be welding the richest of the Seven Kingdoms to your reign, and just in time: we'll need that legitimacy, that power, that wealth, to bring Dorn to heel."
I nodded, pausing to take another sip of wine. "True ... as far as it goes."
Jon tilted his head in confusion, and I gestured with my wine cup. "Jon, you know as well as I that Tywin Lannister things of only one thing: the glory and power of the Lannisters. He wants the Iron Throne, and barring that, to have his grandchild on it, to reign through him."
Jon sighed. "Robert, we've talked about this -"
"Jon, let me finish. By marrying Cersei, I'm mounting a lion - in more ways than one," I joked, "One that will tear me apart limb from limb if I lose concentration. One day, when my son is almost grown, I will go on a hunting trip, and not come back. Tywin will become Hand, and become king in all but name.
"At least, that is Tywin's plan." I leaned forward, and smiled. "But with your help, the Stag may yet tame the Lion."
*** *** ***
The wedding was largely as expected. Baelon's Sept was stacked to the brim with the upper echelons of six of the Seven Kingdoms, with Dorn noticeably having failed to send representatives to watch as I threw my cloak around Cersei Lannister's slender shoulders. Throngs of cheering smallfolk and lesser nobility lined the streets as the procession travelled back to the Red Keep, and for several long hours we were feasted and fêted, enduring long toasts and speeches, blessings by septons and having many valuable gifts presented to us. As was not unusual in such a situation, Cersei and I barely had a chance to speak more than a few ceremonial words to one another, the rest of the time limited to basic platitudes and the occasional simple pleasantries. It wasn't until later in the evening, when the cheering nobility of the Realm sent us to bed that we were finally alone together.
Cersei was, quite simply, stunning. At eighteen years old, she was tall, slender, pale and blonde, in a dress of cloth-of-gold and crimson. Her expression is demure and regal, but her green eyes are bright with intelligence and apprehension. We stood in silence for a moment, and I wondered which of us was more uncomfortable.
Finally, I shattered the stillness by walking over to a nearby table, and pouring two gold-chased glasses of wine, picking them up, and walking over to present one to her. "My lady," I said calmly, "I think you need this as much as I." She eyed me in surprise, but acquiesced, and together we drank. I gestured for her to join me, and we sat down together, slightly apart, in comfortable chairs.
We sat in silence for a few more minutes, before I put my half-empty glass aside. "The thing I object to most about this whole affair," I began, "Is that we have barely been given a chance to know one another before today. Oh, yes, we have met at court, and said the polite words, but we are strangers, yet they all expect us to suddenly become one. It's more than a little ridiculous."
Cersei gulped down a mouthful of wine, and rolled the glass between her delicate hands. "Rather more than a little," she admitted. "But we are who we are: you are the king, and I am my father's daughter."
"Aye, and tomorrow you will be crowned queen," I continued. "And then we will be expected to live out our lives together, raise children together, and secure the Realm together. Something of a tall order for two strangers, wouldn't you say?"
"True, Your Grace," she agreed.
"Please, lady Cersei: if nothing else, call me Robert."
A pause. "Very well. Robert. Then I am Cersei."
I smiled, and continued. "Neither of us planned for this, Cersei. You were raised to marry a Dragon, and I a Wolf. The games of gods and men took both our first hopes away from us. So, we must live with what the gods give us as best we can."
We sat together for a little while longer, and we both drank a little more. Finally, she continued. "You are not what I was led to expect ... Robert," she said.
I smiled again. "I know I have a reputation as a drunk, a brute and a womaniser: I won't pretend it isn't one I've earned. Baratheons are not a tribe known for our refinement. But as a man or woman sets aside the playthings of childhood to become an adult, so must a warrior put aside his games to become a real king." I offered her my hand, and after a moment's hesitation, she took it, and I bowed slightly as I sat to kiss her knuckles. "In many ways, I am not a good man. I may never be a man you can love. But I swear, by the light of the Seven, that I will do everything in my power to make you as happy, as safe, and as loved as I can."
She looked at me, and I tried my best to read the emotions behind her emerald eyes, but neither I nor Robert had ever been men who could understand how women think. Eventually, she smiled. "The past is in the past, and the future will come in its own time. Let us concentrate on the present." She stood up, still holding my hand, her slender fingers in my massive paw. "We may have said the words, but we are not yet man and wife. Take me to bed, Robert, and we can begin our new life. Together."
*** *** ***
The next day I rode out of the city, accompanied by several lords and knights, to enjoy the cool breezes and the air away from the mass of humanity that was King's Landing.
I reigned in my horse as we reached the summit of a hill, and I looked back at the massive walled city. Five hundred thousand souls, and not a proper sewerage system in sight. That's gonna get expensive ... but necessary in the long run, if I want to cut down on plagues. Fortunately, Robert hasn't had time to drink, wench and gift away the treasury and wind us in debt up to our eyebrows with the Lannisters and the Iron Bank.
Stannis Baratheon, Master of the Ships and my younger brother, pulled up beside me, as the rest of the party hung back to give us our privacy. Stannis was a dour and inflexible man, and I knew why Robert, a jovial, emotional extrovert found his more studious, rule-obsessed and prickly brother frustrating and annoying. At age eighteen, a year younger than myself, he looked the elder, and still bore the gauntness that was evidence of the siege of Storms End.
We sat in our saddles together, until I felt the need to speak. "How goes the fleet?"
He grimaced. "It goes," he said curtly. "Our ships are gathering, new hulls are being outfitted, our crews are training. It will take time and gold, but we will take Dragonstone."
I nodded. "Good. I understand you've taken a new advisor in matters of sailing: Ser Davos? The men call him 'Onion Knight'."
"Aye. He was a smuggler, but he brought us food when we were looking at the fallen as though they might make a decent meal. After Stark lifted the siege, I made him a knight, but trimmed his fingers first: one right doesn't make up for a lifetime of wrongs, no matter how many lives he saved." That was Stannis all over: inflexible. "Still, he knows the sea better than any of my other knights, and his skills are useful. Besides, he's honest, for a smuggler: tells me what he thinks, not what he thinks I want to hear."
I smiled. "After six months on the Iron Throne, I reckon that's one of the most valuable traits in an advisor: someone who'll tell you when you're about to fuck up." I took a deep breath, then let it out. "Stannis, I've fucked up." He glanced over at me in surprise, but I continued. "I haven't been much of a king, and less of a brother. You have done all I ask and more, but I have never thanked you for it."
Stannis shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. "You're my brother, and my king: you have the right, and I have my duty."
"Still, you held Storms End beyond the point where most would have surrendered, and you took up the task of rebuilding the fleet without a moment's hesitation. I had thought, after you take Dragonstone, to grant it to you as your fief." Stannis visibly flinched, but I drove on. "Its income may be small compared to Storms End, but it was always the traditional holding of the heir to the throne, and until I have an heir of the body, that's you." I pointed a finger at him. "Moreover, I need to have a strong hand ruling over the Targaryen loyalists who're still left.
"Still," I continued, "It's poor payment for loyal service to force you to take a small holding in the middle of the ocean, so I'll leave the choice to you: Dragonstone or the Stormlands. Either way, I'll have a hell of a time replacing you."
We sat in silence for a few more minutes. Then Stannis spoke. "You'll have my answer ... after I take Dragonstone."
I nodded. "Fair enough." Then I brightened. "In any case, we'll have to find you a wife: gods know you need a woman in your life!"
He barked out a laugh, with the first hint of warmth I had seen from him in years. "Day after your wedding and you're already matchmaking! Bedding the Lannister girl must agree with you," he suggested, knowing Robert's proclivities.
I smiled, and shook my head. "Let's just say that given the right incentive, even the most proud lioness can be encouraged to purr." Back at the Red Keep, Cersei was being readied for her coronation, after a mutually satisfactory wedding night. I wouldn't say she had fallen madly in love with me, but adding a little 21st Century Western attitude towards focusing on your partner's pleasure was something of a shock to Lord Tywin's daughter.
For a moment, we were simply brothers again, not close friends, but blood. Then reality returned, and I glanced up at the sun. "Well, time to head back: from what I remember of my corination, it involves a lot of sittinng on that nightmare of a metal chair while the High Septon drones on and on, so I suggest a light meal and make sure you visit the privy first!"
"Since when did you know the meaning of the phrase, 'light meal'? Seven hells, what's gotten into you, man?" Stannis wanted to know, and I just shook my head as I spurred my mount down the hill.
*** *** ***
The ceremony was as dull as I remembered, but Cersei was stunningly regal as the crown was placed on her head to the cheering of all. A great many of the powerful nobles and wealthier citizens of the Realm breathed a sigh of relief as some semblance of normality was restored: we now had a king and a queen, with the likelihood of an heir on the way. Some loyalists still whispered about the Targaryen children still on Dragonstone, but mostly people wanted stability.
Cersei flopped backwards onto our bed, still in her gold-chased robes and the crown still on her head, exhausted but elated. "Queen! I am finally queen!" she laughed, and I smiled at her enthusiasm as I reclined on the bed, still dressed but for my boots. She rolled over onto her belly, propped up on her elbows. "After all these years ..."
"And you make a lovely queen: I think you broke more than a few hearts today," I offered, and she flashed me a smile.
"A few," she admitted, "As is my right: after all, a queen should be loved by all her subjects!"
I grinned, and reached up to brush an errant lock of golden hair that had escaped her elaborate coif. "Royalty does have it's rewards," I joked and she giggled, until the crown fell from her head to land on the bed between us. We both glanced down at where it lay upside down on the blankets, then back up to one another, then we both laughed again.
*** *** ***
Several hours later, we lay together, with Cersei cradled in my arms, her cheek resting on my chest. I slowly stroked my palm up and down her smooth back as she ran her fingers through the curls on my chest. "I could get used to this," she murmured, and I raised my hand to stroke her hair.
"Then we will have to do our best to avoid having it taken from us," I said with certainty.
She pressed herself up so that she could look at me. "What? Robert, you are king, and I am queen! Who could take anything from us?"
I laughed, and leaned down to kiss her forehead when she pouted in return. "My queen, I'm certain Aerys thought the same: that the crown was a magical, gods granted talisman that meant that people had to obey him." I frowned. "Ned, Jon and I - and your brother, too," I added, "Proved that a lie. A ruler only keeps his throne as long as people are willing to follow him. The Targaryens held the throne by force of dragons, and then by the loyalty of the great lords: when Aerys lost that loyalty, he lost his throne."
Her emerald eyes flashed. "So what? Are we to spend our days flattering and bribing lords so that their loyalty does not falter?"
I shook my head. "No, but we cannot simply expect our subjects to dance when we order them to. We must use every strength and talent at our disposal to ensure that one day our son - or daughter - will sit on the Iron Throne, safe and secure. My strength, your beauty, both our wits, every last trick we can muster must be aimed at making our rule secure. We will give the Iron Throne a foundation of stone, and no one - no one! - will be able to take it from us."
*** *** ***
Ned.
I write this by candlelight as my new wife sleeps in our bed, the hour is late, but I cannot sleep. There is so much to say, but we are both plain speaking men, so I will just say it: I have been a terrible friend.
For months, I have lived in the past. The shock and pain we both share, losing Lyanna to the Mad King, your brother and father, my friends. Since the day our she-wolf was taken, be it by force or by wiles, I have lived in a cloud bank of rage and grief. I look back on the actions I took during our rebellion and after, and I am ashamed. I treated you poorly, in private and in public, and I excused the murder of children as though they were monsters.
Ned, my brother, I was a fool.
As you may have found, marriage can bring new perspective on one's life. I have many regrets, but I also have hope in the future that I may repair some of the damage I have caused. So, I write this in the hopes that we may mend the rents in our friendship, and in the further hope that I may one day again call upon your strength and your counsel.
Until the next time we meet, I remain Robert Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm ... and, more importantly, your friend.
