Asha
"Land in sight!" The bosun shouted.
The outline of Orkmont appeared before Asha's eyes after days of tireless sailing. The old island of the Iron Kings... This place was of great historical importance for the Ironborn, and Asha's first time visiting it.
The voyage was smooth, as the Black Wind found no troubles in its path. She received a crew of 50 men, all capable in combat as in sailing.
Dagmer Cleftjaw approached her on the deck, "A pretty sight, isn't it?"
"Certainly better than Pyke. These are lands fit for a king." She said as Timberhall came into view. The structure of the Orkwood's seat was primarily made of wood, harvested from the nearby forest. Now bandits plagued their land, and they needed the Greyjoy's aid for some reason. Asha still doesn't understand how the Orkwoods ended in this situation, they have a respectable host to raise for such troubles.
The Black Wind approached the harbour, and Asha saw Lord Alyn Orkwood waiting for the ship to dock. She descended the boat, and Lord Orkwood greeted her, "Asha, 'tis good to see you here."
"Thank you, Lord Orkwood. What happened?" She answered.
Lord Alyn looked at his feet, "Well, every patrol I've sent to eradicate these outlaws has been decimated. I know not how they managed to outclass my men at arms, but they sure are well armed."
Asha nodded, "Very well. I'll see what I can do." She gestured at her men, "Come on, ya' cunts! It's time to hunt!"
Her men cheered, and Asha faced Lord Alyn again, "So, they're fortified inside the woods?"
"That's what we deduced, no one has survived their onslaught. Some of the corpses also disappeared."
Disappeared corpses? That's queer. "Why take the corpses? Besides hiding their actions, I don't see a good reason for that." But why do it when their cover is blown?
The lord shook his head, "I know not, my Lady."
Asha nodded, "Alright, we'll depart tomorrow morning. Expect us to be back two days after."
The lord bowed, "Excellent, my Lady. Please, make use of my keep for the time being."
"Thank you, Lord Alys." She answered.
The party disembarked and prepared to face its future challenges.
Victarion
The Iron Captain stood before the burning village, his small army loading the ships with all the stolen goods. The sheep fuckers of Faros were quite rich after all, Victarion now understands why the corsairs constantly raided them.
The Iron Victory was brim with riches, ranging from golden trinkets to exotic weaponry. He doubted even Euron managed to accumulate such wealth.
Riches... that were acquired without bloodshed. The village was utterly abandoned, and all property was left intact. Victarion had heard rumours of a strange disease spreading, which drives everything that touches to madness. The Iron Captain decided to profit from the situation, and ordered the village burnt, so that no trace of the possible illness could remain.
One of his co-Captains suddenly approached him, somewhat troubled. "My Captain! A strange man wearing a red garb wishes to speak to you. We found him near the coast, the men are too afraid to capture him."
Victarion raised an eyebrow, "And why should a reaver be afraid of a beggar?"
The co-Captain kept his mouth open. Victarion's patience was starting to end, "Fine. I'll gut him myself."
The co-Captain accompanied him to the man's location. Once they reached their destination, Victarion could see why his men were afraid. A Red Priest was there.
He was massive: over six feet tall, wide as two men, and with black ebony skin. He had white hair, and his beard resembled the mane of a lion. His cheeks and forehead were covered in red and orange tattoos, and he wore a scarlet robe and carried an iron staff.
Victarion stepped forward, "You're a Red Priest, more ragged than what I expected. What's your name?"
The man spoke with a deep, booming voice, "I am Moqorro, faithful servant of the God of Light. I was expecting you."
Victarion grunted, "You do not expect a Lord Captain to come before you. What do you mean by that?"
Moqorro's staff lit, green flames spitting from the dragon's head, "I've seen you in the flames. Each night, I see your successes and the glory that awaits you east."
A wizard, then? Victarion thought. "And why should I believe your words?"
"Come closer. Stare at the flames." The Red priest said, his staff now afire.
"My Lord Captain! You-"Victarion punched his co-Captain before he could finish the sentence.
"I do as I want." He said as he approached Moqorro. "Show me, Wizard, or I'll give you an excruciating death."
The Red Priest smiled, "Witness, the power of R'hllor!"
The green flames rose even higher, and Victarion could recognise some patterns. It was a vision.
A great shadow loomed on the east, spreading death and despair everywhere it went. Victarion held a flaming axe and fought the terrible figure, aided by people he could not recognise. Before he could see anything else, the flames died down.
"Did you see it, Lord Captain?" Moqorro said, "This is the power of R'hllor, the God of Light."
Victarion stood still for a moment.
He then smiled.
"You've piqued my interest, red man. Welcome aboard."
Daenerys
Daenerys felt... troubled.
It's been a month since the dragons' birth. They're growing very quickly, all of them were of the size of a dog. She decided to name the black one Viserion, the golden Rhaegal, and the green Meraxes, in honour of the poor God trapped in that endless inferno.
Magister Illyrio has been supportive as of late: even if the true heir of the Seven Kingdoms has died, he still wants to press Daenery's claim. It was apparent he had ambitions west, no one would try to challenge the Demon of the Trident to put a girl on the throne.
But... Daenerys just wanted to go home... she missed Ser Willem, and the house with the red door...
Why should she care for a throne that brought only death to her family? Her father, brothers, nephews... all died because of it. Viserys slowly wasted away, his desire to rule was strong, but the Gods had other plans. She heard the Usurper wasn't faring better... he casted away the Seven, and embraced the ancient religion of his lands: the Storm Cult.
After all, what did the Seven do for him, or... me?
Now the Pentoshi were using her as a political pawn. She dreams of flying away with her dragons every night, back to Bravoos...
Cherish the times of your youth, as they won't ever come back.
Daenerys remembered the words of Meraxes. No matter how much she wanted, her past won't ever return.
Daenerys had to forge a new path of her own. But from where does she start?
Perhaps a good sleep might help, it's late anyways.
As always, she grouped the small dragons under her bedsheets. Even if they're bigger now, Daenerys couldn't deny her children enjoyed it. She closed her eyes...
...she felt an odd sensation, as if she was sleeping on a cloud...
Daenerys opened her eyes. A vast sky enveloped her view, with many layers of different hues...
It was beautiful.
Azure, blue, violet, black... a great canvas of colours embraced her... Daenerys had never felt so serene in her life. She could stare at the sky for hours.
Her hands gripped soil-
It's soft. Too soft.
She lowered her gaze and saw a foamy, white texture.
Clouds...?
She stood up. The landscape was endless, a flat realm of emptiness. She was baffled, why was she here?
"My my, are you a cute one..." a voice behind called her out.
Daenerys turned around. Before her, there was the bulkiest man she had ever met. He had long, black hair and a well-trimmed beard. He wore a peculiar garb. From what Daenerys could see, it was made of a singular piece of wool cloth, draped over his shoulder.
He had a broad smile, and Daenerys felt his blue eyes studying her. "If you were more... mature... I wouldn't mind shagging you."
Daenery's cheeks reddened, "What?!... ehm..."
Gods, this is so embarrassing...
The man couldn't keep it anymore, and exploded laughing. "T'was a joke! Just a bit of tomfoolery!"
Daenerys regained her composure, "And who are you, making dirty jokes beyond the sky?"
"Me?" The stranger said, "I am the Storm God. I hope Meraxes spoke well of me."
Daenerys wasn't even impressed at this point, after what happened last time...
"I thought you were the deity of bad comedy. Thanks for the clarification."
She expected him to be angry, but the God just laughed. "HAH! Quite the sharp tongue we have here!"
The Storm God adjusted his garbs, "Well, I've not summoned you to exchange quips. You are here to help me mend a great schism caused by your father's actions."
Schism? "What are you talking about?"
He just gestured at her, "Come, follow me."
The two started walking. Daenerys felt the need to ask the God a question, "Where are we going? There's nothing here!"
"Ohh, you'll see what's ahead. Just have a little patience, will you?" He then began mumbling something about mortals and time.
After what felt like an eternity, Daenerys could distinguish a small shape in the distance.
It was... a man.
"Ahh, here he is!" The God said, "Remember, girl, I don't want rash actions."
She slowly nodded, still not understanding the reason for that statement. But the closer she got, the more she could make out of the man lying down. Tall, black hair and beard, royal garments...
Is that... the Usurper?!
Robert Baratheon began opening his eyes. "Hmm? Here again?" He groaned.
Daenerys felt stiff as the killer of her family stood. He's the man who killed her brother, just to usurp the throne for his ephemeral reasons.
The Usurper scanned his surroundings, "Urragon? Is there somethi-"his voice cut off as he laid his eyes upon her.
"Who... are you?"
Daenerys opened her mouth to answer him, but the so-called Urragon was faster.
"She's your cousin, Daenerys."
There were some seconds of silence. Daenerys noticed Baratheon's face flare red with anger, only to die down a moment later. He seemed very... conflicted.
"Why is she here?" The Usurper said with a raspy voice.
Urragon stared at the man, "You should know very well, my long-lost grandnephew. The animosity between House Baratheon and Targaryen must end, for the good of mankind."
Now was Daenerys to retort, "And why? What does humanity's fate correlate with our feud?"
"Why should I forgive the killer of my family?"
Baratheon glared at her, "Girl, you don't know what you're talking about."
Daenerys reciprocated, "You're an usurper, driven by the flame of ambition. You had no quarrel with my family."
She expected Usurper's wrath, but he looked at her with complete surprise.
"Girl, what in the Seven Hells did they teach you of my rebellion?"
Daenerys didn't know where he was going with this. The Targaryens were universally loved by their subjects, they were the blood of Old Valyria! Only this despicable man could've plotted against them.
"You rebelled alongside your traitors against a dynasty that brought peace and prosperity for three hundred years! House Baratheon, who owed its very existence to the Targaryens!"
Baratheon had an unreadable expression. He probably noticed that he has no argument against this. House Targaryen was wronged.
"Girl, your father was a madman." He said
Daenerys couldn't handle it anymore. She yelled at the man, "A madman? Lies!"
"Father had a weak council that failed him in the hour of need! It's their fault your treason spun out of control!"
Her voice reverberated in the silent horizon. Urragon still didn't intervene in the exchange, limiting himself to hear. The Usurper remained unfazed by her outburst, and opened his filthy mouth to sow more lies.
"Girl, you know nothing."
Daenerys was still enraged, "How dare you-"
"I see your brother omitted several key aspects when he told you about the war. It seems he feared the truth after all."
The Usurper continued, "Your lovely Rhaegar kidnapped my betrothed."
Daenerys scoffed, "And why should I believe this? Why should I trust an usurper?"
But the Storm God intervened for the first time, "Daenerys... this is the truth. Robert is not lying. Viserys had a... twisted view of the rebellion."
Daenerys didn't know what to say. She didn't trust Baratheon, but if a God confirmed his story...
Were her beliefs a lie?
Robert Baratheon continued, "Brandon Stark came south, demanding Rhaegar's head for the offence he inflicted on his house. Your wise father imprisoned him and called Brandon's father, Lord Rickard Stark, to attend his son's trial."
Baratheon lowered his tone, "Lord Stark requested a trial by combat, offering himself as his champion. Aerys agreed... and chose fire as his champion."
Daenerys wasn't understanding, "What do you mean... fire?"
"Afterwards, Rickard was suspended from the throne room's rafters and burnt alive with wildfire. Brandon had a leather cord wrapped around his neck, tied to a device that would tighten as it was pulled. A sword was placed in his reach. 'Take the sword, and free your father if you can!' Aerys said. Brandon strangled himself to death."
Daenerys was pale. Why didn't she know this? Why did her brother not tell her what Father did?
"Afterwards, your father asked for my and Ned Stark's heads. Obviously, our guardian refused to concede. Jon Arryn was a great man, and decided to rise in rebellion against Aerys' rule. You should know how it went afterwards, we won, and the Kingslayer killed your father. Despite all this, my dear Lyanna died... alongside my will to live."
Baratheon painfully said the last words, and the three remained in silence. Before her, there was no usurper, but a broken man.
Despite his conditions, Robert Baratheon spoke again, "I am sorry about your losses. I could've punished the murderers of your brother's progeny, but I was too weak."
Daenerys now had the proof of what the throne could do to a man. She didn't envy its occupant by any means. Many tried to claim it, but no one knew of the curses it brings.
Robert Baratheon thought that sitting on the Iron Throne gave him the liberty to do what he desired. But in truth, it imprisoned him in a cage full of sycophants and plotters. Daenerys felt pity for Robert Baratheon.
Now she felt bad about her previous outburst. Robert wasn't the killer of her family, but someone who acted in sheer desperation, to keep his head on his shoulders. Her father was the one to blame. His madness brought House Targaryen to ruin.
The Law of Predestination. You reap what you sow.
"I am... sorry for what I've said." Daenerys said tremblingly, "I judged you too harshly. I didn't know of your struggles..."
"No, I am sorry for what I did. I wasn't in control of everything that happened, but I could've at least saved Elia and her children."
They stood silent for some time, the two of them not knowing how to answer.
Urragon was the one to talk, "Well, let us make peace. Before the rebellion, House Targaryen and Baratheon were very close. There's nothing wrong in trying again, is it?"
Daenerys exchanged a look with Robert, who answered, "Well... we could start from somewhere."
Daenerys had to reluctantly agree, "Yes... I believe it too."
The Storm God crossed his arms, "Well, I expected you two to be more eager, but it's fine nonetheless. Now, there's something I need to explain to you, Daenerys."
She nodded, and the God continued, "Since now you have three dragons-"
"DRAGONS!?" Robert said incredulously.
Urragon rolled his eyes, "As I was saying, since you now have dragons, you must train them properly. Some Valyrian books describe how to control them, probably the Magisters own some. You don't want to let them go on a rampage, they can cause quite the ruckus."
Daenerys nodded. This was going to be complicated.
"Oh, another thing. As you know, the Magisters have their ambitions, don't let them take hold of you. You will probably have to leave Pentos soon, in some way or another."
Daenerys nodded insecurely, "And where should I go?"
Urragon eyed Robert, who sighed, "I'll see what I can do... but no promises."
The Storm God clapped his hands, "Then all is settled! Now wake up, you two. I've had my share of troubles today."
Before Daenerys could say anything, she found herself back on her bed.
This night many things changed, but Daenerys was sure she and Robert agreed on one thing.
The Storm God was a cunt.