The Road to Hell

by Angry lil' elf

A SI gets into a car accident and after meeting Death itself is sent to a world where he is reincarnated as someone else entirely. Armed with only his wits, the hapless SI must adapt to his surroundings and learn that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Will the SI survive and forge his own destiny, or will he fall into death and madness? Multicrossover.

4. Chapter 4

The Road to Hell

…

Chapter 4: Up the Creek

The sun began to rise over the horizon was I sat on the deck of the Shy Maid. I was idly plucking the strings of a harp that Jon/Griff had gifted to me. It was a beautiful looking thing carved from red oak wood that had been polished and oiled to perfection and elaborate Valyrian symbols were etched into the wood itself. Couldn't begin to understand any of what they meant, but they look okay and that was enough for me. Idly, I ran my fingers along the strings, the soft tunes mingling with the chirps of grasshoppers, the calls of songbirds and the crickets chirping in the grass along the river.

I didn't know how to play the harp, at least not yet. I hadn't really played any instruments in my past life; my family owned a couple of pianos in the past and occasionally I would pluck the strings of a guitar at school, but I couldn't play an instrument to save my life, despite wishing I could at least play one instrument. Heck, if I knew how to play a guitar, I might've had the dream of becoming a musician or singer. Come to think of it, now that I'd been reborn as Young Griff, I might be expected to sing. Not exactly an entertaining thought.

However, my fingers seemed suited for playing string instruments; slender and elegant as they looked, and Septa Lemore commented that I had the fingers of an artist and she offered to teach me to play. I took the offer, feeling it'd give me something to do. Jon/Griff remarked that I was becoming more like my father and that had nearly made me snort in disbelief. With my second coming and Young Griff's change in attitude from being a happy cheery sort to a more sombre and serious person, Old Griff must've been pleased that I was acting more like my apparent father, if he even was my father and I had plenty of reason to suspect otherwise.

I didn't want to put it off for much longer. I needed to at least find out who my real father was. Normally I wasn't the best with plans, either short term or long term, but I knew I had to have an outline of a long-term plan depending on what my heritage was. My plans really depended on whether I was a Blackfyre or the son of the sun. Only two people I knew had the answer to that question; one was in Kings Landing serving as Bobby B's spymaster and the other was in Pentos.

After some back and forth, I managed to convince Jon to take us to Pentos, but easier said than done. Pentos was half a continent away and we were puttering along the river with as much speed as a single mast pole boat could muster. Add to that, we made almost frequent stops along the river at fishing villages that lasted from a single day to almost a week. Even more annoying was the fact that no-one was in any hurry to get to Pentos. I had a feeling they were delaying the trip, but I didn't dare complain and thought that at least they were taking me to Pentos when they could've easily ignored me.

As we made the journey, I kept my head down the few times I was allowed on shore and tried to blend in with the crowd. Easier said than done as I had a head of blue hair, and I often stuck out like a sore thumb along with Jon and it didn't help that I barely spoke the native tongues despite claiming descent from Tyrosh. I felt it must've been amusing to the locals to see me staring at them dumbly as they spoke a language that made it sound like they were singing instead of speaking.

This was partly why Haldon doubled down on language lessons, and partly my own determination to learn the languages so that I didn't feel left out or have the wool pulled over my eyes in case someone was trying to rip me off. I would admit however that the Valyrian dialects were much easier to learn and speak than any of the languages in my old life and I could manage a short conversation in trade talk and the Volantene tongue. I guess being reborn as a child/teenager helped me being a faster learner.

I'd asked why we stopped so frequently as we slowly made our way to Pentos and Septa Lemore had explained the reason being was money; Illyrio only sent supplies occasionally, so we had to make do on our own most of the time. At some of the villages we stopped at, I took some odd jobs to put in my fair share of contributing money to our stores. Most of the jobs were simple delivery jobs taking a package to someone in the village. I even tried some work as a dockhand of sorts helping load shipping crates off and onto boats. Other jobs entailed me helping to mend fishing nets that the fishing villages regularly put out into the river to catch fish, I even caught a few fish of my own to add to evening meals for everyone aboard the Shy Maid.

Whilst I knew that these odd jobs didn't exactly sit well with Old Griff/Jon, I could tell that he was impressed as well as thankful that I wasn't being slothful by any means. I'd never really liked the idea of others seeing to my needs, unlike Joffrey who had servants to do everything he ordered them to. This I felt would earn me some brownie points with some Westerosi lords, particularly the Northern lords such as Ned Stark who often handled things himself.

I was disturbed from my thoughts when Septa Lemore opened the door and stepped out from the hold. The Septa was clad in her woollen garbs, and she smiled as she saw me sitting on some crates that I had arranged into a makeshift chair. "Good morning, Young Griff," she greeted me, and I smiled awkwardly back at her. She was initially surprised that I was now an early riser; apparently Young Griff/Aegon wasn't a morning person and typically slept in as much as he could. Me on the other hand, I was used to waking up early to get ready for work and it came as a surprise when Septa Lemore stripped in front of me so that she could bathe in the river before everyone awoke. I made the effort not to stare since then as I wasn't exactly comfortable with nudity and with the current age of my new body, I would be experiencing puberty all over again.

But I still talked to Lemore though, so as to distract myself from her naked form.

I learnt more about my septa away from Lord Jon Connington's prying ears. She wasn't Ashara Dayne, but she was from Dorne; she had been trained to be a septa since she was six years old and she had been cast out of her motherhouse when it had been revealed that a bard had seduced her taking her virginity and tainting her purity. After being expelled, Lemore had wandered almost aimlessly until Varys found her and took her in to teach Young Griff the mysteries of the Seven. From the conversations I had with her, I could tell that she wasn't telling me everything, but I didn't press her for more information, figuring she would tell me when she felt ready to.

I looked away as the septa disrobed and climbed down the side of the boat. I turned the page when she spoke to me, her voice broken by the splashing sounds as she swam in the waters of the river. "What are you reading there, Young Griff? The History of the Seven Kingdoms or is it the Seven Pointed Star I gave you to read?" she asked me.

"Seven Kingdoms, sad to say," I replied to her with a chuckle from my throat. I briefly thought about the idea of a printing press. Like many things from back home, I knew what they were, but I hadn't the faintest idea how they were made. But the idea of a printing press was appealing as information could be spread out quicker. I had to make do in the meantime. "I'm just about to start reading about Daeron the Young Dragon," I then said to Septa Lemore.

"Ah, him," Septa Lemore's tone was a sardonic growl almost and I could hear the scorn and derision in her tone.

"I'll wager he isn't too popular with the Dornish," I remarked dryly, and Septa Lemore splashed some more in the river before answering my remark.

"He made war on my people and commanded his men to loot, pillage and rape while being heralded as a hero in spite of his crimes. He may be loved by those north of the Red Mountains, but in Dorne, there are seldom few if any who sing his praises."

"History is written by the victors sadly," I said softly. "Such is the way of war," I added grimly as I thought of how feudal lords would encourage the practice of looting and pillaging enemy settlements as a means of rewarding their men and demoralising their foes. I had read some of the tactics employed during long sieges such as raping women in full view to goad the besieged enemy to come out of their gates. I usually put the tactic of looting and pillaging as simply not having the means to pay the wages of soldiers so looting was then encouraged to make up for it. If there were such a means of being able to pay soldiers so that the practice of looting was actively discouraged, then I would be the first to implement it. Sadly however, this likely wouldn't happen as most lords would rather have their soldiers loot the enemy than pay them a full wage.

Septa Lemore then said some more as she swam about, "Ten thousand men the Young Dragon lost laying siege to Dorne and fifty thousand more he lost when trying to hold it," she said. "It seemed the Targaryens never really learned that dragons do not fare well in the deserts of Dorne," she added.

I gave a smile to the septa and said to her, "Thank you spoiling that for me, I was just about to read that part." On some level I'd always admired the grit and defiant determination of the Dornish. Even when facing overwhelming odds, they stood tall and refused to surrender, living up to the words of House Martell: Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken. A small part of me was hopeful that I was Elia's son so that I wouldn't have to slog myself through scorching deserts and have a strong ally in the events to come rather than fight them. That is if Arianne and her uncle Oberyn or Ellaria didn't fuck things up for me first.

Septa Lemore laughed as she continued to swim about and bathe. A comfortable silence fell that went mostly undisturbed, except for occasional chatter about small matters.

Then the Rhoynish couple Yandry and his wife Ysilla emerged from the hold. Having strong Rhoynish blood in their veins, they looked lithe with dark olive skin and dark hair that was tied back. They were clad in clothes made of baggy linen cloth stained with sweat from long hours working in the sun. Yandry was a tall man with a heavy hook nose, gaunt facial features and was broad of shoulder, whilst his wife was shorter than him. Yandry set about preparing the ship to depart, checking and pulling the lines while Ysilla fed some wood into the brazier, stirring the coals and coaxing tongues of flame to rise to prepare the morning meal.

From what I had learnt of the couple, they were doing this solely for the money. Not for the reason Griff or Haldon or Rolly or Lemore or Illyrio were doing it. Simple coin to ferry us from place to place along the Mother Rhoyne. Both were from Dorne; orphans of the Greenblood who never forgot their heritage and moved to Essos so as to be closer to Mother Rhoyne. It was a point of pride with them, claiming it was the greatest river the world had ever known and had no peer. I couldn't say I had seen every river in this world, so I smiled and nodded my head in agreement so as not to offend them. The Shy Maid was a simple transport boat ferrying goods around the various villages and cities dotting the Rhoyne and they continued that business. It was also because Illyrio was their employer who as a merchant of some repute needed those who could transport his wares to prospective buyers.

Septa Lemore emerged from the water, dripping and naked and I quickly averted my gaze. I was still uncomfortable with nudity. Noticing my discomfort, Lemore laughed and said to me, "Oh, Griff, there's no need to protect my dignity and be so shy around me. The Mother and Father Above made us all in their image. Our bodies are their creations, sculpted by their hands. You needn't be embarrassed for me." There was no scolding in the Septa's words, only friendly teasing.

"It is wrong to look at a naked woman I am not close to… not in an intimate way I mean," I replied quickly adding the last bit in. These people were all relatively strangers to me and I felt so awkward watching them bathe. Even more so given that my body was fifteen years old and going through puberty.

Lemore laughed as she patted herself down with a linen towel. I noticed Yandry seemed to be watching so I sent him a glare which he noticed and quickly averted his gaze. "Our bodies were made to honour the gods. We shouldn't be made to hide them," the Septa said to me.

"Perhaps," I said uneasily. "But you'll forgive me if I disagree with you on that point," I added as I stuck my nose in my book.

Lemore looked at me with a slightly sad expression on her face and she asked me, "What's happened to you? What's happened to the boy we all know and love?" Her tone was curious rather than playful.

"He's gone I'm afraid," I said truthfully. "I'm someone else now."

"So, I see. I do miss the old you," Lemore said as she dressed herself in her robes allowing me to look once more. "You've changed since you fell ill. More sombre and serious, like your father in that regard," she added.

"My father..." I mumbled softly. "Did you know him, Septa?" I asked.

"Only what scraps Griff would tell me. I never knew him personally, only of or about him."

I hummed, knowing I expected as much. Very little information was on Rhaegar as a person and the people who claim to know him had differing opinions of the Last Dragon. Bobby B viewed him as a monster who kidnapped and raped his precious Lyanna, Cersei was obsessed with the guy having wanted to marry him and Griff/Jon was in love with the Silver Prince.

I sighed as I leaned back in my makeshift chair before standing up, feeling the call of nature. After placing a bookmark in the tome I had been reading, I set it down and moved to stand near the side of the boat, unlacing my trousers as I did so.

Then the voice of Rolly called out to me. "Making the Mighty Rhoyne even mightier, I see." I glanced over my shoulder to see the shaggy haired man emerge from the hold clad in only his smallclothes. His body was covered in coarse hair and was bulging with muscle that came from days of hammering hot metal.

"A bit," I said in reply as I emptied my bladder, giving a sigh of relief as I did.

"She has no need of your piss, boy," Ysilla scolded me. "The Mother Rhoyne is the mightiest river in the world. The greatest even," she said proudly.

"Well, now she's a little mightier and greater," I said blandly once I felt my bladder had run dry before pulling up my trousers, lacing them up and stretched my back feeling the bones pop as I did. I then spied my reflection in the water, or at least that of Young Griff's. I stared at the mostly unfamiliar face that stared back at me. The silvery blonde roots of my hair were beginning to peek through the locks of dyed blue hair; I hadn't been as diligent as Young Griff had been in dying my hair to keep up my disguise. And my eyes in this light looked a dark shade of blue, but other times they were the trademark purple hues of those of the dragon blood of Old Valyria.

Silver hair and purple eyes, the blood of the dragon. On deck and when ashore in the villages, everyone called me Young Griff, but aboard or inside the boat, they called me Aegon Targaryen, the blood of dragons, descendant of Aegon the Conqueror who unified most of Westeros under his rule, and I would be his descendant that would retake what was mine by right. If it even was my birthright to begin with. I may now have the face and body of Young Griff, but I couldn't claim it was mine to begin with. Before all this, I was just a simple cleaner for a hotel in a little seaside town, nothing more than that. Even the face I now possessed wasn't mine. I looked half a girl with long eyelashes and pretty features that made me look like I belonged in some pop boy band. I was now in the shoes of another person, shoes that I was trying my best to fill. What was the old saying? Walk a mile in another's shoes?

Thinking on the matter, it seemed like I was the obvious protagonist of some fantasy isekai anime; died in a car accident in my world of origin and woke up in a fantasy world in the body of some hero destined to take back what was theirs. Sounded like the plot of every isekai anime I'd watched.

But this was no anime, and it wasn't Earth either, though that was easy to forget sometimes. If I could be proud of something, it was the fact that I had some foresight and foreknowledge of things that could happen in this world. I knew the motivations of the players and their ambitions. Their darkest secrets and their wildest fantasies. I could use that to my advantage. Not a very nice way of doing things, but given the chance, they'd do the same thing to me, so naturally I couldn't afford that to happen. I would have to walk the thin line between good and evil where everything blurred into grey pragmatism. It would be a razor's edge; if I strayed but a little, I would fall off and never rise again.

But I pushed those thoughts out of my mind as Jon and Haldon emerged onto the deck. From then on, the day continued as normal, bringing with it the comfort of certainty and routine. I didn't like it when things were chaotic and uneven, though I knew full well that this world was and will be chaotic in the years to come. I liked my days to be structured and uneventful and I long believed those who loved their lives being chaotic messes weren't the most sound of mind to begin with.

My day was spent waking up early and bathing in the river, waiting for everyone else to rise from bed, then I would have lessons from Haldon and Jon then being broken off with Rolly and Lemore. Other times, I had some free time where I would help do some odd jobs in any of the villages that had some available work, although Rolly or Old Griff would accompany me during those times. Then I would sleep until the next morning and the cycle would repeat itself all over again.

…

Did I mention that I share a room with Griff? Yeah, Young Griff slept in the same bed with his foster father. The room was not much bigger than a broom closet and was taken up entirely by a single bed. Luckily Jon spent most nights on watch as he was right now, standing by the dim brazier clad in a wolfskin cloak to keep himself warm. Despite being hot and humid during the day, the nights in Essos were cold enough to see your own breath. I was taking this time to talk a little with Lord Jon.

"Are you feeling better, Aegon?" he had asked me which almost made me snort in surprise. Despite claiming the need for secrecy, Lord Jon wasn't as subtle he likened himself to be, acting very much like a lord then a sellsword. He certainly wasn't as diligent as Young Griff had been with dying his hair and I could see lines of red hair peeking through the forest of blue.

I tossed some chips of wood into the coals of the brazier before replying, "I could be better, but it could've been much worse." I gave a forced smile.

Lord Jon's face tightened with a frown as he said, "You could be much better, that much is certain."

"I'm alive, aren't I?" I asked rhetorically.

"You are," Jon conceded with a reluctant sigh before saying, "But you've lost so much of who you were, forgetting nearly everything we've taught you. You've changed as a person too; more sombre, more serious, more…"

"I know," I interjected cutting him off. I knew what he was saying was the truth, but that didn't mean I liked. It honestly reminded of my old life with the numerous lectures from my father. And here I'd be hoping I would be rid of having someone like that old bastard in my new life. In a funny way, I could relate to Young Griff being so agitated in the books having to deal with someone as overprotective as his foster-father, much like my own father. If I could tell Jon and everyone that Young Griff died, his soul sent onto the afterlife and my own had taken host of his body, they'd probably think their sweet little prince had gone mad or burn me at the stake for being some kind of demon that had taken possession of their little princeling.

"Let me finish. You've changed in many ways. Some better, some worse," Lord Jon told me.

"Worse?" I couldn't help but crack a smile at that. "How so?" I asked.

"Rolly sings your praises, telling me you're more focussed on your skill at arms. Haldon tells me that you've taken an interest in history and languages more, but your mathematics and sciences need work. And Lemore says you seem almost disinterested in the mysteries of the Seven."

"I know, and I am trying my best," I said grimly. Considering I had been mostly agnostic bordering on atheist in my previous life, I couldn't help but carry that over into my new life. At least until I remember my encounter with the Grim Reaper after my initial death and his words about the Powers That Be, and my personal belief that religion was often used to excuse countless atrocities throughout human history. "You're good teachers to me, you're doing the best you can with me."

"Aye, but you need proper teachers than what has been given you," Lord Jon stated. "Rolly is a blacksmith's son, Haldon is half a maester and Lemore is a soiled septa," he said bitterly. "If things had been different, you'd have been learning from Ser Barristan or Ser Arthur Dayne for arms training, a fully-fledged Maester from the Citadel and a Septa who has not been soiled," he declared.

"Don't let the other catch you saying that. They may take offence to it," I said feeling a need to come to my teachers' defence.

"Even so, you are a prince and need only the best," Old Griff told me.

"Am I though?" I suddenly asked causing Lord Jon to look at me sharply. "Am I really Aegon Targaryen?" I pressed.

"Of course, you are!" Jon snapped at me in a way that made it seem it was a touchy subject to draw on. He looked at me as though I had committed some great scandal. "What's got into your head saying such things like that?" he asked me pointedly.

"I don't know, really," I began to say. "I don't know whether it was after I fell ill or if I had these thoughts before losing my memory, but the whole story of me being spirited away during the Sack of Kings Landing as a baby while Rhaenys and E- my mother stayed behind only to be murdered by the Lannisters. Then five years later, you're charged with raising to be the prince expected to take back the Iron Throne… don't you think it's all a little too convenient or contrived?" I asked.

Old Griff let a choked noise from his throat as he said, "Don't say that. You're true, I know you to be!"

"Do you though? Do you really know that I am your prince's son?" I looked at him, finding strength coming to me as I spoke the words. "How do you know? Is it because I look like my father? Or is it because you trust what Varys and Illyrio have told you about me?" I added.

Lord Jon looked away with a pained look on his face and I honestly felt bad for him. Standing before me was a man who had lost everything; his titles, his positions, his honour, his life in the Golden Company to raise me, or rather the boy that was Young Griff, in the vain hope of avenging his beloved prince in an effort to redeem himself and perhaps earn his salvation. And now I'd introduced doubt into his mind, making him wonder if the boy he had raised really was his prince's son.

I sighed sadly before saying, "I'm sorry. I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning." I then rose from my seat and headed into the hold where I lay down on the single bed in the quarters I shared with Lord Jon and I lay there, finding sleep was harder to come by.

…

A few days later, we stopped by one of the fishing villages that lay in the shadows of the ruined Rhoynish cities that Yandry and his wife spoke lyrical about. The pair had told me as much as they knew about the ancient Rhoynish cities, of what they were like before the Dragon lords came to conquer them. They were said to be beautiful and prosperous before they were destroyed. Cities of canals and rivers and fountains from which the waters of the Mother Rhoyne flowed, making the gardens and lands surrounding them lush and fertile.

But seeing the cities had me wondering if they were anything but ruins now, much like ho Volantis was all but an ember of Old Valyria. But despite all that was left but ruins, there were still people who lived in the many villages and shanty towns lining the edges of the rivers among the gnarled willow trees and small but carefully tended gardens. There were plenty of markets for traders and storage houses for merchants going up and down the Rhoyne. Clustered amidst these markets and stores were taverns, lodges, and brothels.

Most of the inhabitants of these villages were, as Ysilla claimed, of the Rhoynish blood of the former inhabitants who dreamed of the day that their cities and culture would one day rise again. A foolish hope I had thought to be stuck in a dream rooted in the past. You can't hope for the past to rise again one day; the past was the past. Nothing could change that, just as I couldn't go back to my old life, no matter how much I wished to.

Since we'd arrived, we hadn't left the Shy Maid all that much. Lord Jon had said that we needed to await word from Illyrio for transport to Pentos. Ever since my conversation with Jon that night seemed a little cooler with me, but also more determined to find out for himself if I was his prince's son or not.

Whilst stopping over in the village, I took the time to explore the area. Under adult supervision of course. Lord Jon was reluctant to let me off the boat, but a few imploring words from Septa Lemore allowed me some leave to explore any of the riverside towns we stopped in. But Lord Jon insisted that either Rolly, Lemore or both would accompany me on my little expeditions such was the case today with Rolly and Lemore accompanying me into the village.

"Ready to do some exploring today, Young Griff?" Lemore asked me with a smile on her lips.

"Anything to stretch my legs for a bit, and I could say the same as you and Rolly, lady septa," I replied with a smile.

"Aye, I was starting to feel a little cooped up on the boat," Rolly said in agreement. The man was clad in a doublet and carried with him a shortsword. I myself had a little steel dirk, while Lemore was unarmed. I honestly didn't expect to run into any trouble in a little village such as this, but I was thankful that I at least something to protect myself and Septa Lemore with. And I was certain that Rolly would handle most of the fighting if it came down to it.

As we walked through the village market, I took in my surroundings with a sense of wonder. Normally in my old life I was cooped up in my own house, but this was a world I'd only read about in the prose of George R.R Martin and it begged to be explored. The smell of spices mingled with the scent of woodsmoke in the air was a heady thing as I breathed in. Walking through the market square, cluttered stalls were strewn about in a labyrinthian mess. I'd almost lost track of where Lemore and Rolly were a few times as I looked over the wares of the stalls while people around me haggled and bartered for goods and services.

I soon came to a more open area of the market square where I found some musicians playing instruments. There were some lutes, mandolins and drums. The leader of the troupe was a swarthy looking man who sang in a high reedy voice. A few people were watching and occasionally a passer-by tossed a coin or two in front of the troubadors

Rolly and Lemore stepped up beside me to watch the musicians. Lemore then spoke to me, "Fancy getting up there yourself?" she asked. I looked at her in surprise.

"What?" I squawked out.

"You're watching them with great interest, Young Griff," the septa said to me with a smile on her lips. "Perhaps you'd like to try singing yourself?" she added.

"I don't know about that," I said hesitantly.

Rolly laughed loudly and said, "You'd sound a lot better than the singer up there now. Go on, lad! Have a go!" With that he pushed me towards the musicians. I stumbled forward, almost tripping over and stood in front of the musicians who looked at me.

"Erm, mind if I had a go?" I asked awkwardly.

The troupe looked at each other before shrugging. Standing awkwardly in front of the small crowd, I nearly froze up as a pit formed in my stomach as the troupe began to play. I quickly tried to think of a song and the first one came into my head and I began to sing out the words.

Oh, imagine a land
It's a faraway place
Where the caravan camels roam
Where you wander among
Every culture and tongue
It's chaotic, but hey, it's home

As I sang those first verse, everyone paused to listen and watch with interest and feeling emboldened that no-one was booing yet, I continued to sing the next verse.

Where the winds from the East
And the suns from the West
Mingle where the glass is bright
So, come on down, stop on by
Hop a carpet and fly
To another Arabian Night~

Smiles began to grace the lips of the slowly gathering crowd and the troupe began to adjust their music to match the tempo of the song I was singing. Rolly and Lemore looked surprised and delighted at the fact that their little princeling could sing an apparently original song they had never heard before.

As you wind through the streets
At the fabled bazaars
With the cardamom-cluttered stalls
You can smell every spice
While you haggle the price
Of the silks and satin shawls

As I sang the Disney song, The crowd grew larger, with more people stopping to listen to a song they had never heard before. Thank God for the Power of Disney for that.

Oh, the music that plays as you move through a maze
In the haze of your pure delight
You are caught in a dance
You are lost in a trance
Of another Arabian night~

Rolly was laughing proudly and Lemore clapped her hands along with the tune of the song, looking delighted with my singing. I had to admit that Young Griff's voice seemed very well suited for singing, better than my original voice had ever been.

Arabian nights~
Like Arabian Days~
More often than not are hotter than hot
In a lot of good ways~
Arabian nights~
Like Arabians dreams
This mystical land of magic and sand
Is more than it seems~

My voice rose as I continued to sing, the crowd looking amazed and delighted and some began tossing more coins on the ground in front of me which only encouraged me to sing.

There's a road that may lead you
To good or to greed through
The power your wishing commands~
Let the darkness unfold or find fortunes untold
While your destiny lies in your hands!

I then cupped my hand around my mouth and attempted to make my voice sound deeper and darker as I spoke the words,

Only one may enter here
One whose worth lies far within
The Diamond in the Rough!

Taking a moment to breathe and readjust my voice, I sang the last verse of the song

A-rabian nights~
Like Arabian days
They seem to excite, take off and take flight
To shock and amaze~
Arabians nights
'Neath the Arabian moons~
A fool off his guard call fall and fall hard
Out there on the dunes~

I ended the song and the crowd erupted into wild applause and coins of the various cities of Essos were tossed on the ground in front of me and the musicians. People rushed forward to congratulate me, shaking my hand and talking to me in rapid tongues of various Valyrian dialects that I had trouble keeping up with.

Rolly and Lemore managed to push their way through the crowd and Rolly proclaimed to me, "By the Old, New and Drowned! What kind of song was that, lad?" he asked. "Never heard its like before!" he exclaimed.

"You didn't like it?" I asked a little worriedly.

"Nay! Far from it! I loved it!" Rolly laughed. "If you were not training for knighthood, you'd make a fine bard!" he said slapping me on the back in a friendly way.

"Indeed, Rolly," Lemore said in agreement. "Aegon the Troubadour," she jested.

I smiled bashfully before saying, "I think I prefer Egg the Entertainer," I said shyly.

"Egg the Entertainer, eh?" Rolly said a craggy grin on his bearded face. "I like it!" he declared with a loud laugh.

"It has a ring to it, I will say," Lemore remarked with a nod of her head.

The musician troupe came toward me and shoved what I thought was half the money the crowd had tossed at their feet. One of the troubadours, a skinny looking man with straw blonde hair smiled at and said, "Here young ser, only right we give you this," he told me.

I tried to refuse saying, "I couldn't!" I protested. "You were the ones to play the music," I said to them.

"And a poor job of it we were doing, until you came along!" one of the other musicians replied. "Take the coin! You've earned it," he said to me.

I almost made to protest when Rolly scooped up the offered coin from the musicians and said for me, "Many thanks, good sers. Perhaps our lad will sing again one day? Hopefully soon," he added giving me a grin which had me bowing my head bashfully, a blush spreading across my face.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, two people came forward to talk to me and they were characters I recognised from the Telltale Game of Thrones game. Asher Forrester and Beskha the Basilisk.

"Mighty fine song you sang there," Asher Forrester said with a grin on his lips. He looked about a year older than I was, so I figured he was recently new to Essos after being exiled from the North due to his affair with Gwyn Whitehill.

"Erm, thank you, sir," I responded awkwardly.

Beskha grinned at me in a dangerous way and said, "Aye. Like a songbird you were. Never heard a song like the one you sang before. Did you make it?" she asked me.

"I sorta made it up as I went," I replied, unsure if anyone would believe me if I said that the song already existed in another world.

"Well, you appear to have some talent for song writing," Asher said. "My own younger brother sings sometimes," he added thoughtfully.

"Might I know your names?" I asked even though I already knew their names.

"Asher, second born son of House Forrester," Asher replied. "This is my sworn sister Beskha," he said introducing Beskha.

"House Forrester? Of the North?" I asked, again I already knew the answer to that question. "Long way from home, aren't you?' I said lightly.

"Aye, a certain incident forced me to come here to appease certain people," Asher replied vaguely. I already knew what he meant; Gwyn's little brother caught him and Gwyn having sex which Ludd Whitehill took offence to and Asher was then exiled to Essos to prevent a war from happening.

I then spotted the tight expression on Rolly and Lemore's face and I quickly said, "Perhaps we can talk somewhere more conducive to conversation?" I suggested helpfully.

"We were just on our way to a tavern when we spotted the crowd and you singing for them," Beskha replied. "With the coin you've earned you could easily buy a few rounds, couldn't you?" she asked jestingly.

"I suppose a drink or two would help," I replied. I'd never drank alcohol at all in my old life and I wasn't certain if I should start to now, but I supposed it would be impolite to not buy a round or two for Rolly and Lemore.

"Shall we?" I asked Rolly and Lemore who both nodded in agreement and we soon headed for the nearest tavern where hopefully whatever tension that seemed to be growing could be settled over a pint lor two.

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: There! Fourth chapter of this is done and dusted! I will admit that LuciusOctivus's Catalyst story did inspire most of this chapter, but I hope the addition of SI!Aegon singing a Disney song and the meeting with Asher Forrester and Beskha is enough to appease everyone here.

Next chapter, we'll hopefully get to the Elder Scrolls crossover when the gang and maybe Asher and Beskha board the ship bound for Pentos, but a deep fog comes through and instead of landing at Pentos, they arrive in Skyrim. Either Solitude, Dawnstar or Windhelm would be the cities that the ship would land in.

And in other news, I've got an Elder Scrolls/DC Comics crossover idea in my head, but I'm not sure what kind of setting it should be. With that in mind, I've set up a poll on my profile of what kind of setting the story should be and so far Ame-Comi Girls seems to be the most popular. So, feel free to cast your vote on the poll and maybe when the numbers get to around fifteen or twenty, whichever choice has the most votes will be the setting for the crossover.

And that's about all I have right this minute and in a couple of days, I'll be away housesitting for my parents while they're away in Malaysia, plus it'll give me a break from work for a little while as work has been kicking my ass lately, so I'm very much looking forward to some time off.

Be kind to one another,

Angry lil' elf.