Did you miss me? This chapter just didn't want to come together. I made so many cuts and revisions that if I included everything I axe'd out of this chapter, it'd probably be 20,000 words long. Instead, you'll have to make do with a measly 8,300 instead.
How will you ever survive?
On another note, my experience writing this chapter has given me a new perspective on G.R.R.M's progress on the Winds of Winter. Godspeed you old nerd, who also hates fanfiction for some reason.
Look it up. He doesn't like fanfiction whatsoever.
Anyway, the fic isn't abandoned, so you can all shut up now.
The Throne Room was completely silent, save the sound of Ravensheart sliding back into its sheath, everyone waiting to hear what I'd ask of the king.
Taking a look at the rest of the royal family, I could see that Cersei was damn near seething behind her mask of indifference and Joffrey was red with rage which gave me a downright disgusting idea.
I wanted to play this safe, but I saw an opportunity in their anger, and I'd be damned if I didn't take it.
Targeting Joffrey with Project Feeling, I let my magic do its work and got ready to reap the rewards.
It was fun watching his face go red from the sheer rage I'd just inflicted onto him, and as I watched his eyes nearly pop out of his head, I knew that my payday had arrived.
"Kill him!" Joffrey commanded, a single finger pointed down at me.
Jackpot.
(Arya Stark)
Never did Arya wish to have her Needle by her side more than she did now.
She knew Joffrey was a terrible person, but never did she think he'd call for Ser Lyon's head in front of so many people, especially after everything that just happened between the Raven Knight and the Kingslayer.
Only two of the four Kingsguard present at the moment actually moved to carry out the order and were swiftly dispatched by Ser Lyon, and in spectacular fashion as well, much to Arya's joy.
Ever since the incident at the Crossroads, she'd hated the royal family and their retainers, and that included the knights of the Kingsuard, who let them get away with everything.
If so many people weren't willing to tolerate their actions and protect them from the consequences, people like Cersei and Joffrey wouldn't dare call for the death of innocent boys and Direwolves.
Arya knew the fat Kingsguard moaning in pain on the ground like a scared child was Boros Blount, but the name of the short blonde one escaped her.
He was probably a Lannister, so his name didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had pulled a dagger and was about to stab Ser Lyon like a coward.
Lyon avoided the stab aimed at his leg, stepping back and unsheathing his own sword, its blade a hauntingly beautiful dark gray and blue.
"Stop this madness in the name of your King!" The king roared so loud that Arya flinched.
Lyon didn't listen though, and Arya watched, more excited then she'd ever been as he plunged his blade toward the ground, Spellforged steel eager to taste Kingsguard blood.
For a moment, Arya imagined it was Joffrey on the ground, but her hopes were dashed twofold when Lyon stabbed his sword into the ground beside the coward's head, sparing his life for now.
"As you wish, your grace." Lyon bowed his head slightly.
"And you two!" King Slobbert screamed at the two Kingsguard lying defeated on the ground.
"DId I give you shits the order to assault Ser Lyon?!" He kept raging from atop the Iron Throne. "I ought to let him finish the job and take your heads for what you've done!"
"Y-your grace." Boros stuttered, looking like a scared kitten instead of the proud knight he'd been moments before.
"You shut your mouth, Blount! You've both disgraced not only yourselves, but your houses and your king!"
"Selmy!" The king turned to the famous knight, who simply bowed.
"Have those two taken back to White Sword Tower to await their punishment. Take three guards for each man." he commanded before turning to Joffrey, who shrunk under his father's gaze.
"I have other matters to attend to." King Robert stated ominously, staring down Joffrey the entire time.
Watching the fear on Joffrey's face grow made the smile on Arya's face do the same.
"As you wish, your grace." Ser Barristan bowed, moving to do as his king bid, the disgraced knights knowing better than to fight back.
"Clegane! Take the boy to his chambers and keep him there. I'll deal with him later."
Joffrey tried to have Ser Lyon killed and all he got was a slap on the wrist, meanwhile innocent's were slain on his order for no reason.
Still, at least Joffrey was exposed as the monster he truly was in front of so many people. Maybe now Sansa would stop swooning over the boy who got her Direwolf killed.
Arya doubted it though. Her stupid sister was more likely to either make excuses for her golden prince or make him out to be the hero somehow.
"Ser Lyon." King Robert addressed him from atop the throne. "You've exercised enormous restraint today, first with Ser Jaime's accusations, and then the attempt on your life, by my own Kingsguard nonetheless."
More like by Joffrey, but Arya wasn't about to say that out loud.
"Let it not be said that the king doesn't correct his mistakes. By the time Prince Joffrey ascends to the Iron Throne, you will have the 1 million Gold Dragons you are owed for your work." the King announced, as if doing what he should have done from the beginning was something to be praised over.
Taking a glance at the Queen, Arya could see the sheer rage in her eyes, hidden behind the same mask of the perfect lady she almost always wore.
Of course, the bootlickers ate it up with a smile on their faces. More than once, Arya even heard someone call the king 'generous', like he wasn't robbing Ser Lyon from the start.
At least he's getting what he was owed now. There are plenty of people in King's Landing that deserved to be robbed blind, but Ser Lyon Corbray, the Raven Knight, wasn't one of them.
"Now, there's still the matter of compensation for your duel. You beat Ser Jaime in honorable combat, proving his words false by wielding the same blade he decried as being unfit for a prince." The King recalled, even though it just happened less than five minutes ago.
"As you were forced to defend yourself against three knights of the Kingsguard today, you may ask three things of the Crown, and I'll see it done."
Now that… actually was just of the King, which almost upset Arya.
If he was capable of this from the very beginning, then why didn't he just pay for the sword to begin with?
Arya was almost certain that Ser Lyon did exactly what the Kingslayer accused him of, mostly since that's what she would have done.
She and Ser Lyon had a lot in common after all.
It's exactly what they deserved anyway.
In the end, Lyon got what he was owed, and was promised far more than that by the King himself.
Maybe justice did exist after all...
-A Restrictive Game-
In the end, I kept my requests relatively light. I already got far more than I expected, and Robert's exact wording in regards to the debt I was owed suited my needs perfectly. I even had it in written form as well, stamped by the King's seal.
If Cersei still ends up having Robert killed, then I'd be able to use the debt I was owed as further justification to go to war in the ensuing fallout.
House Corbray would have an undeniable motive beyond helping the Northerners avenge Ned Stark.
I'd also have a reason to take their land in the end.
With that in mind, all I asked for was whatever bits of Valyrian Steel the Crown still had in their possession, the remains of a dragon of my choice, and full access to the Alchemist's Guild, along with permission to open a branch of the guild in the Vale.
The royal family had quite a few Valyrian Steel odds and ends, even after Aegon the Unworthy gave many of House Targaryen's valuable treasures away like party favor's.
I wondered why Robert hadn't had them reforged into a weapon? Valyrian steel weapons are a massive status symbol on top of being better than regular steel in every conceivable way.
Having a Valyrian Steel weapon would have also further legitimized the Baratheon Dynasty. The Targaryens haven't had a house weapon since Brynden Rivers yoinked Dark Sister and took it with him to The Wall, so the Baratheons having one so early into their reign would be just another way to stick it to the Targ's.
Come to think of it, Robert probably didn't even know that Valyrian Steel could be reforged in the first place, or that there was a blacksmith in his very city that knew how to do it.
Which means Joffrey felt the need to come whining to me for one once he realized that I could make him a shiny new toy to beat peasants with.
Nice.
I've been looking for some Valyrian Steel to experiment with, and I couldn't just fuck around with Lady Forlorn. Maybe I can try to figure out how the Valyrians made their steel so strong? I had to reforge Ravensheart with Sky-Steel to make it as strong as it is, which works, but if there's an easier way to make stronger Spellforged steel, without all the bullshit, then figuring it out will only make things better for me in the long run.
The request for a dragon's remains raised a few eyebrows, but it was granted, so long as I didn't take the remains of Balerion the Black Dread.
It really didn't matter which dragon I got, so long as I had enough material to experiment with.
As for the last request, Robert granted it, after I once again put my bullshitting skills to work and told him that I was looking into different forms of medicine and wanted a few alchemists on hand to aid me.
He granted my last request in the end, not caring much about the Alchemist's Guild.
Their reputation and influence have taken a beating over the years, so I don't see anyone caring too much about a few alchemists moving to the Vale.
The Alchemist's themselves will probably be happy for the chance to expand their influence in another kingdom and if they aren't? Tough shit, the king gave me full rights to conscript as many alchemists as I wanted. They live on his land after all, and the Alchemists Guild is an institution of the Crown.
In the past, they were an independent organization. They'd obey the king for sure, but that was more out of self preservation than anything else.
After the rebellion? Well, Robert wasn't too keen on letting the robed fuckers get away with helping Aerys burn people to death on the regular, so some consessions were made.
It's fascinating what you can learn from a bunch of drunk nobles who think you're the coolest fucker out there.
Is this what it feels like to be Daemon Blackfyre? He was supposedly quite popular back in his day, to the point where a lot of people wanted him to be king, even though he was a bastard.
Regardless, I've been looking for an excuse to make myself scarce without actually leaving King's Landing and my little display in the throne room was the perfect excuse to do so.
Robert personally invited me to stay in the Red Keep when I first made my intent to compete in the tourney known, but with the attempt on my life, perpetrated by a prince no less, I had a reason to leave the damn place without potentially insulting someone.
There's been less traffic into the city since the tourney ended, so I shouldn't have too much trouble finding an inn with enough rooms for myself, Lucas and the few retainers we brought along.
On the subject of Lucas, he was understandably enraged by Joffrey's stunt, but by the end of the night he was laughing at the royal family's misfortune. I admitted to him that the Kingslayer's accusations were spot on, which only made him laugh harder.
I wanted to be in the capital for a few more days at least, just to make sure everything is going according to plan.
At this point, Gregor Clegane has likely already left the capital, which meant he'd soon be running a train on the Riverlands.
Why is that important? Well, when I eventually take the Vale from Lysa, I need insurance that the River lords won't start some shit on behalf of House Tully after the coming war is over and the best way to do that is by getting in the good graces of one of the houses that are more powerful than the Tully's, like the Blackwood's, Bracken's, or even the Frey's.
Coming to their aid and giving away a weapon or two would be the perfect way to do that. It doesn't even need to be fully Spellforged. A ceremonial Proto-Spellforged weapon like my Corbray Longsword, only pattern-welded to give it that distinct look would be a weapon that any lord would proudly tout as a treasured heirloom.
My initial plan was to stop the Mountain in his tracks, but I've spent too much time in King's Landing already and if I keep the Vale waiting, something's bound to go wrong.
I've changed quite a bit recently, but Lord Stark was still on the path to discovering the royal children's true parentage, so Cersei will be forced to make her move.
By 'make her move', I mean she'll have Robert killed, execute the Stark household and set off a chain of events that will lead to the deaths of thousands of people.
And I'm going to let it happen… Honestly, if the people in this world weren't so horrible, I might feel a bit more guilty than I do now.
This would all have played out if I wasn't here to begin with, so if anything, my presence is likely going to make things better.
Whatever, thinking about all of this heavy shit is not what I need right now. I just dunked on Jaime Lannister, defamed and embarrassed the royal family in front of a crowd, and pretty much got paid to do it.
I'm winning right now, and that's all that matters.
(Cersei)
"-and then, instead of punishing the boy for making a fool of us, you reward him!" Cersei raged at Robert in his solar, unsure of who she's angrier at; Lyon Corbray, for making a fool of Jaime and her family by extension, or Robert, who let it happen in the first place.
"What was I to do, woman?!" Robert raged, his face turning pink like a pig. "We already looked bad enough after what Joffrey did, and you wanted me to make it worse?! You're lucky I didn't send the boy to the Citadel for what he did! And Jaime is the one that challenged him in the first place! If there's anyone you should be angry at, it's that golden twat!"
Cersei could barely contain herself by this point. Robert knew just how much she hated it when he insulted her brother, so of course he made sure to do it every chance he got.
"Now, I'll hear no more of this!" He yelled once more, getting up from his chair.
"Where are you going?!" Cersei yelled. Normally he's the one kicking her out so that he can have more whores brought in, not the one leaving.
"I'm going on a hunt!" Robert boorishly responded as he left.
Well, that just gave her more time with Jaime and less time spent dealing with Robert, so he can go off for as long as he likes. It's not like his absence will be noted, since he's never doing anything of import to begin with.
Finishing her cup of wine, Cersei rose from her seat and made her way to one of the gardens for some peace and quiet, all the while, planning her next move.
She'd never let a Corbray get away with disgracing her family.
As she entered her favorite garden, she noticed Lord Stark sitting on a bench, and as the man caught sight of her, it became clear that he was waiting for her.
(Sansa Stark)
Sansa often drifted off into thought while she did her needlework under the watchful eye of Septa Mordane. Even she grew weary of stitching every now and then, and with how much practice she's had, maintaining her steady hand wasn't difficult whatsoever.
Septa Mordane and Jeyne were talking about… Something. Sansa had heard the word 'dowry' said more than once, but she wasn't very interested.
Surprisingly, Arya wasn't trying to get out of her needlework today, and even seemed to be focused on it for once. It was one of many changes Sansa had noticed about her sister.
When Arya asked Sansa to braid her hair for the upcoming unveiling of Prince Joffrey's sword, she could immediately tell where her wild sister's newfound interest in her appearance came from.
Lyon Corbray.
All it took were a few kind words and a nice gesture from a boy and just like that, Arya was finally acting like a lady should.
If only their mother were here to see it…
Come to think of it, Jeyne seemed enamored with Ser Lyon as well, so she likely had him on her mind as she talked to Septa Mordane about an appropriate dowry for the bride of a lord.
Despite their differences, and the incident at the Crossroads, Sansa was more than happy to help her sister embrace her womanly side, if only to spare herself the embarrassment of being seen with her.
When things went awry, to say the least, Sansa expected Arya to be crestfallen, since she didn't get to speak to the object of her affection, but Arya was unnervingly happy to see the royal family dishonored and three Kingsguard beaten in quick succession.
Didn't she know that Sansa would be joining that very family?
Bafflingly, the king rewarded Ser Lyon for his actions. He may have beaten the Kingslayer in a duel, but that didn't excuse the state of the sword he'd made for her golden prince.
It was certainly beautiful, but it was much too short for a prince. Her father's sword, though she had only seen it a few times, was more than twice the size of Joffrey's sword.
More than the sword though, Joffrey calling for Ser Lyon's head may have been a bit excessive, but Lyon had clearly goaded him into doing it.
It wasn't like her Golden Prince to rage without just cause.
"Sansa!" Jeyne shouted, breaking Sansa from the trance she was in. Both Jeyne and Mordane were looking at her.
"Y-yes?" Sansa asked, her face aflame with embarrassment. Thankfully, Arya didn't care much for talking during their needlework sessions, so she didn't see Sansa's momentary lapse in attention.
"You drifted off, my dear." Mordane helpfully pointed out, embarrassing Sansa even more.
"I suppose it's to be expected with everything that's been happening lately, but you mustn't allow it to become a habit. We are in the capital after all, and your actions will affect how others perceive your house." The Septa chastised.
Sansa knew all of that. She'd been a keen student for as long as she could remember. Even while distracted, her embroidery was without flaw and her posture was perfect. Not that it kept Septa Mordane from complaining.
"Jeyne wanted to ask you a question." Mordane told Sansa with a pointed look in Jeyne's direction.
Jeyne, who seemed to have faltered since she first tried to get Sansa's attention, took a second to gather herself.
"Since your family sat with Ser Lyon at the feasts, do you know if he has a betrothed?" Jeyne asked, a hopeful glint in her eyes.
And there it was.
Sansa didn't know why everyone was so enamored with the Corbray knight. He was much too easy going for her liking, forgoing any sense of propriety and often getting away with it because he can make special swords.
It wasn't fair. Joffrey was a prince and Sansa was going to marry him one day and become the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and yet all anyone seemed to care about was Ser Lyon Corbray being a blacksmith. So what if he can spellforge? So what if he won every event in a tourney? In the end, all he'll be is a lord.
Not a king, not a prince, not even a Lord Paramount. Just another lord among thousands of others, all swearing fealty to Joffrey Baratheon.
Sansa didn't like Ser Lyon very much. He seemed to look down upon everyone he saw, even the king and queen. She could almost hear the mockery in his words while he was unveiling the sword he'd made for Joffrey.
It wasn't right, the way everyone seemed to not only tolerate him, but actively sing his praises whenever they could. It was like he cast some sort of spell on them!
"I'm not sure. Perhaps I can ask father if he knows." Was all Sansa said, tired of talking about it.
"That would be wonderful!" Jeyne gushed. Sansa doubted Lyon Corbray would make her his wife, given how lowborn she was compared to the next lord of Heart's Home.
Jeyne was her closest friend, and the only one to come with her to the capital, but Sansa wouldn't hesitate to admit that her tendency to go on and on about the men she fancied was wearisome, especially when she had a new object of obsession seemingly every week.
It was unladylike, to fancy so many men.
"Lyon wouldn't want someone like you." Arya interjected, roused from her trance at the mention of the "Raven Knight" that she wouldn't shut up about.
The shift in Jeyne's demeanor was immediate.
"And what would a little girl that plays in the mud know about a gallant knight like Ser Lyon?" Jeyne shot back at Arya.
"More than a stupid girl who's never even spoken to him!" Arya snarled.
Sansa and Mordane shared a look, knowing what was to come. It wasn't the first time the two had argued like this, nor was it the first time they did so over Lyon Corbray. At this point, they had decided it was best to leave them be until things got too out of hand.
The constant arguing over him didn't help Sansa's opinion of Ser Lyon Corbray, although she could admit that he was quite the gallant fellow when he wasn't sneering at his betters.
-A Restrictive Game-
"D-does it feel good, m'lord?" The woman between my legs looked up at me as she tentatively licked up and down my length, her wide green eyes seeking approval.
"You're doing great, love." I praised her, placing an encouraging hand on her head. Her curly red locks proved to be an excellent handhold.
Confident now that she had my approval, she took the tip into her mouth and slowly began bobbing her head back and forth.
As she found her rhythm, I let myself relax. Soon, my mind turned to everything that had happened since my little show in the throne room.
After I left the Red Keep, I went searching for suitable accommodations for my party and I, which meant rooms for myself, Lucas and the fifteen men we brought with us.
I ended up choosing one of the quieter inns located on Eel Alley after a few hours of searching. It was called the Red Mare and was run by a redheaded mother and her twin daughters, who appeared to be around my age.
Though the presence of a redhead milf and her hot twin daughters contributed to my decision to stay there, the lack of other patrons, which meant a surplus of rooms, and what essentially amounted to a master suite with a bathtub was what sold it for me.
With a payment of 500 Gold Dragons, or 50 a year for 10 years, I had a home in the capital and three beautiful women serving my every whim should I need it. If I were just some rich merchant who decided to shack up here, I'd be treated like a king, but being an influential lord who just won an entire tourney and absolutely thrashed three Kingsguard?
The owner of the inn would do whatever I asked of her, which was something I had no trouble abusing the hell out of.
All I had to do was tell the owner, Anya was her name, to send her oldest daughter Arrei to my room and a few minutes later, I had her mouth around my cock, no mind fuckery involved whatsoever.
Life like this sure is good.
I'm set to leave this shit hole of a city in a week, but in the meantime, I've taken to fucking with my fellow nobles for fun. One thing I've enjoyed doing is introducing slang from my old life and watching the nobility of Westeros adopt the words into their 'sophisticated' vocabulary.
Hearing Lord Celtigar, the sour old man, refer to the whore he had the night before as a 'thot' was worth having to suffer his presence while we talked business.
He was prepared to let me have my pick of five hundred thousand Gold Dragon's worth of treasures from his vault, along with another five hundred thousand in actual coin.
I'd be inclined to take the offer to begin with, but what really sold it for me was the ancient magical horn the Celtigar's had. Supposedly, it could summon sea monsters, which I totally believe given the existence of Dragonbinder.
Besides that, House Celtigar has a Valyrian Steel axe called Tidebreaker, which I can definitely lowball to a hundred thousand Gold Dragons.
I may be able to make my own magic steel, but there's a certain allure to collecting ancient Valyrian Steel weapons.
If Lord Celtigar decided he didn't want to pay up? I'd be well within my right to declare war over it, which is exactly what I'd do, and Lord Ardrian Celtigar knew that I could bring six thousand soldiers to Claw Isle like it was nothing.
Even if the horn wasn't worth shit, House Celtigar was rich, and I'd be getting my money's worth one way or another. The fact that people just have that much on them to throw around still astounds me at times. House Celtigar is one of the richer houses in Westeros, but still.
It was also the reason why I was leaving in one week rather than leaving sooner, since I'd be traveling to Claw Isle with Lord Celtigar to receive my payment.
I was inclined to believe the story about the horn, considering the fact that the old bastard has nearly three times as much MP as someone with his INT should. He's of Valyrian stock all right, diluted as his blood may be. I can only imagine how much magic power a true Valyrian had at their disposal.
"You can stop now." I gently halted Arrei's ministrations. She was confused for a split second, before I pulled her up and onto the bed.
Her curly red hair, doe-like green eyes, and tan skin, unlike her mother's pale complexion, gave her a unique appeal. Her buxom body only added to it.
"M'lord?" Arrei whispered, nervous, yet with a hint of anticipation. I had already taken her mother and younger sister on this very same bed, and she knew it.
If she hadn't already spread her legs without me even telling her to, I'd have thought she was scared, but her sopping wet core proved otherwise.
Leaning over her, I looked deep into her eyes and stroked her cheek, all the while, lining myself up to take her for the first time, like I did her sister.
Soon enough, her cries of peasure filled the room, and likely the halls outside of it as well. I'd be worried about my men getting worked up and deciding to try their luck with my women, but I gave them enough coin to find some whores to give them company, so I know they're already having their fill.
(Six Days Later)
I recruited a few fighters from the tourney, most notable among them were Lothor Brune, a very distant relative of House Brune of Brownhollow who rode well during the joust and stood out in the melee, despite showing up in dented iron plate armor over a leather jerkin, a stark contrast to the polished armor sets of the other competitors.
Still, he performed well, beating out men who've been trained in a castle with the best training gold can buy and the best equipment available to most men.
Lothor Brune was of low birth and learned how to fight 'the hard way' as he put it, which essentially meant that he was self-taught. He wasn't particularly ambitious, which was perfect, and he didn't have any better prospects, nor would he once I introduce the possibility of knighthood and a bit of land to him.
Beyond him, there were over thirty other hedge knights and warriors I brought into my service, but that's not nearly as many as I'd have liked to recruit. King's Landing and the Crownlands as a whole was a breeding ground for ambitious warrior types looking to make a living near the seat of power in Westeros.
While not as generous as Aegon the Unworthy, Robert was known to show favor and throw a job or two to those that could impress or entertain him, and nothing impressed or entertained the king more than a good fighter.
Well, nothing besides a woman he could fuck, but that goes without saying.
His appreciation of capable combatants was why there was no shortage of fighting men looking for employment in the capital. All I had to do to get their attention was dangle some coin and that was it.
Still, despite how many men I'd have liked to recruit, there was only so much space on the ships we'd be taking to Claw Isle. Adrian Celtigar was the kind of man who liked to let everyone know just how big of a baller he was, which meant that when he traveled, he traveled in style.
The old man came to the capital with two large swan ships, and had more than enough space on them for the men I've recruited. He was all for it after I told him that I wanted to 'ease King's Landing of one of its many burdens'.
I was, of course, referring to all the hedge knights, free riders and sellswords that populated the city. Lord Celtigar, being the spiteful old bastard he is, got a good laugh out of the shade I threw at the Capital of Westeros and the Royal family, and was glad to help depopulate the already overcrowded city, even if it was just a little bit.
Of course, the greedy fuck counted it towards the total price of the sword I'd be making for him, even charging me for every man that'd be on his land while I did so.
Oh well. What's a few Gold Dragons compared to some more able bodies willing to fight my wars for me? Each one of them were about equal with most knight's I'd seen, so I wasn't taking off with some jobbers that were only good as meat shields.
Even with the seventy thousand Gold Dragons I'd won, the women I'd fucked, the notoriety I've gained and the materials I won in my duel against Jaime Lannister, I can't help but feel like I've wasted a lot of my time here in the capital.
The Tyrells were mostly wild cards, ever since I chose to sleep with Taena that one night instead of Alla and Elinor.
Elinor was furious that I chose the MILF Taena over her and Alla, although I'd taken steps to fix that over the past week. She wasn't angry with me anymore, and she was into me again, but something (likely Margaery) has kept her from pursuing me the way she used to.
Alla was just following her more assertive cousin's lead, which I didn't begrudge her for. Family comes first and all that jazz.
Could I have used my inhuman CHA and Project Feeling skill to convince them to let me raw dog them to my heart's content? Sure, but I didn't want to use it as a crutch in every social interaction.
If I used Project Feeling to cheat my way into getting whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it, I'd get lazy, and laziness is as good as a death sentence for someone with ambitions like mine.
I'd use it when I needed it, but for something as small as the Tyrell cousins? No, I think not. There's also the fact that Margaery might suspect something if I did that.
As for the rest of the Tyrell's that came to the capital?
Mace was, as ever, jovial to a fault. He doesn't seem to know about my recent spat with Elinor, and kept treating me as a friend, same as always.
Loras was much the same, occasionally asking me to spar with him, which I respectfully declined after the first time, in favor of reading the books Grand Maester Pycelle kept for the royal family, who was eager to show off the tomes in question.
Margaery was, on the surface, as welcoming and inquisitive as ever, although there was an edge to our interactions that wasn't there before. She'd make veiled references to Taena, often asking me if I intended to visit Myr at some point. I simply didn't give a shit and even briefly considered putting my CHA to work and fucking a few bastards into Margaery and her cousins, but ultimately decided against it.
I'll be sure to revisit the idea after I win the Iron Throne.
Elyana Sarwyck confused me. At first I thought she just wanted me to bed her or something, but she really did want to share a bowl of grapes and talk, the tease. I expected her to make a move at some point, but she left the capital the very next day.
I know she wants something, but I have no idea what that is. I would have asked one of the Westerlanders that came to the capital, but after I made a fool of Tywin Lannister's heir, Kingsguard or not, they didn't want to be seen speaking to me.
Pussies…
Still, I can't exactly call this a wasted trip.
I wonder how things are going back in the Vale? I've fucked with the timeline massively by pushing Tyrion's trial back the way I have, so at least I have something to look forward to besides kicking Lysa Tully off the Weirwood Throne.
(Tyrion)
Despite having been moved to an actual room and being treated more like a guest, Tyrion knew that he was still a prisoner.
Still, a room in the Eyrie with a comfortable bed, good food and wine, and all the books he could read were a welcome improvement to the Sky cells.
And Mord…
Tyrion will be sure to thank Lyon Corbray while he's burning the Vale to ashes.
A comfortable prisoner he may be, but a prisoner is still a prisoner, and a Lannister always pays his debts, ten-fold in some circumstances.
Besides his imprisonment and thoughts of revenge, Tyrion found his stay in the Eyrie quite interesting.
Upon arrival, Lysa Arryn had him brought before the Weirwood throne, where there were only a few courtiers and members of the household guard, along with Lysa herself, her whelp and Catelyn Stark.
Lysa looked as deranged as ever, which was a shame since she was quite the beauty. The color in her auburn hair had faded a bit, and there were a few stress lines on her face, but other than that she still maintained her youthful looks, which was impressive considering she spent the better part of the last two decades in King's Landing.
Tyrion wasn't ashamed to admit that he snuck a glance or two while she breastfed her sickly son. Hells, he'd admitted to a lot more during his 'confession'
Tyrion was quickly sent to the Sky cells, where Lysa no doubt expected him to break. A little over a week later, Mord rudely kicked him awake, interrupting a nice dream he was having and brought him before Lysa Arryn once again, only this time, instead of being sent back to the Sky cells, he was sent to a room of all things, and was told to enjoy the last bit of comfort he'd get in life, for Robin's nephew, Ser Lyon Corbray would be coming to the Eyrie to help her dispense justice.
On one hand, he was grateful to the boy for getting him out of that dreaded cell, but on the other, he would be coming to help Lysa 'dispense justice', which actually meant that he'd help her force a confession out of him for a crime he didn't commit.
Another week after that and Tyrion was yet again brought out of confinement and presented before Lysa's court, only instead of a few sycophants and guards, there was a massive delegation of Valemen, each carrying a banner.
Among the banners he recognized were the broken wheel of House Waynwood, with the checkered field of House Hardyng close by, the blue pall of House Coldwater, the broken lances of house Wydman and the red castle of House Redfort.
The throne room was packed to the brim with noblemen, each one judging him guilty from the moment they set their eyes on him.
The same, tired old song and dance played out as it usually did when nobles came together over a crime. His charges were listed, accusations were hurled forth, he futilely tried to defend himself and he was sent back to his comfortable prison, where he drank his fill and passed out horribly drunk.
From the next day on, Tyrion was allowed to go on supervised walks at noon every day, which kept him from going completely stir crazy. It was while he was on one of these walks that he got a good look at the division amongst the nobility of the Vale.
It wasn't obvious at first, but there seemed to be a sense of dissatisfaction with Lysa Arryn, and a deep respect for Lyon Corbray, who had won the admiration of the Valemen with his skill at arms and diplomacy.
Tyrion heard about how Lyon Corbray won the allegiance of the Mountain Clansmen of the Vale, succeeding with his wit where others floundered and failed with armies.
More than once, Tyrion had heard the comparison between the Corbray heir and Artys I Arryn, first King of Mountain and Vale. Such comparisons were never made within earshot of Lysa Arryn though.
A skilled diplomat, commander and warrior if the rumors he'd heard about the tourney at the Gates of the Moon were to be believed; Lyon Corbray was one of the golden boys of his generation even before he took Westeros' collective breath away by unveiling seven new Spellforged weapons.
Once upon a time it was Rhaegar Targaryen and Jaime Lannister that all the maidens sang of and dreamed about. These days it was Lyon Corbray and Loras Tyrell…
There was also something odd going on with the youngest son of Lord Hunter. Tyrion knows a schemer when he sees one, and while nearly everyone he's seen in the Eyrie fits that criteria, Harlan Hunter stuck out as being particularly venomous, although to his credit, he hid it well.
If Tyrion hadn't spent so much time around his royal nephew, the good Prince Joffrey, he'd have missed the signs himself.
He'd seen the Hardyng heir practicing with his Spellforged blade, a thin, but long sword with the distinct flowing, water-like ripples of Valyrian steel, only colored red and silver. It was a beautiful blade that shined in the light and sang as it split the air like nothing else, proving to all that it was true Spellforged steel he held.
He knew they existed long before that, but it was at that very moment that it sunk in just how influential House Corbray was and would become in the coming years.
Once upon a time, Leroy Corbray found four enormous deposits of Silver on his land, and the once-impoverished house had become so rich, nearly overnight, that Leroy was able to arrange a betrothal to Jon Arryn's only daughter, Janyne.
If it weren't for the fact that he died after screaming his own name and rushing towards the Dornish host at the Battle of the Trident, Leroy Corbray would have been remembered as one of the greats of his generation, standing among the likes of his liege lord Jon Arryn and even Tyrion's own father.
Tyrion's father, the ever fearsome Lord Tywin, had been trying for years to get his hands on a Valyrian steel sword to replace Brightroar, to no avail. He remembered Lady Forlorn being at the top of Tywin's list of potential replacements, partly because House Corbray had more cause to accept the ludicrous amounts of coin his father was willing to pay for it.
His inquiries came to an abrupt halt when all that silver was struck.
Tyrion had no clue why, but his father had become increasingly frustrated with the state of affairs on House Corbray's lands. Every year it seemed, there was more silver mined than there was the year before.
Why his father was so obsessed with the Silver mines of a lesser house was beyond Tyrion, but it only got worse once rumors started floating around about the Corbray heir producing Spellforged steel.
For what might have been the first time in Tyrion's life, his father was conflicted, and he knew exactly why.
The replacement he'd been searching for all these years was finally within reach, yet in order to get it, he'd have to give one million Gold Dragons to House Corbray, who his father seemed to have a strange distaste for.
There was something deeper to the enmity his father had for the House of Ravens, but for the life of him, Tyrion had no clue what it was.
Personally, Tyrion would love to have a weapon like the one the Hardyng heir was showing off in the possession of House Lannister, but it wasn't his call to make in the end.
More's the pity…
Iron From Ice part 2 (Old Gods start AU)
When the raven came in with news of Lord Eddard's imprisonment and the subsequent call to arms by Robb Stark, I wasn't surprised. In fact, I had been preparing for this day for years.
Maintaining an army as big as my own was expensive, and I wouldn't have bothered to do so if I didn't know about the war that was right around the corner and the misfortune that would befall the North because of it.
That's not even considering the fact that I ruled over Sea Dragon Point and the Stony Shore, thanks to a decree from Lord Stark before he left for the Capital.
Since I had done such good work building up Sea Dragon Point, I was given the task to do the same for the Stony Shore and hold it in House Stark's name until one of the younger Stark boys came of age.
Until then, I ruled over a good portion of the west coast of the North, and I knew exactly what was coming for my people once word got out that most of the fighting men in the North were fighting a war in the Riverlands.
It didn't take very long to bring the Stony Shore up to my standards. A small fort on a cliff overlooking the sea, just big enough to house a few hundred soldiers, was raised in a matter of months, with a small village being built around it by migrating smallfolk.
The men I stationed there to garrison the place had taken to calling it the Shorefort and I ended up liking the name, so it stuck.
I was as ready as I could be for the coming war, but all of that preparation flew out the window when among the remnants of an Ironborn "deserter" raid I personally put a stop to, was none other than Balon Greyjoy's only daughter.
I had just taken Asha Greyjoy prisoner. Her presence alone threw the pretense of the raids being done by supposed traitors right out of the window. Either Balon Greyjoy's only daughter turned on him, which would make him look weak enough to the point where he'd have to act in order to save face, or he supported her, which made the raid an act of agression, and a war would certainly follow it.
Either way, conflict with the Ironborn was brewing far earlier than it was supposed to, and I would have to put most, if not all of the resources I'd been saving for the War of the Five Kings into defending the North from the coming Ironborn retaliation.
The consequences of Asha's failed raid completely fucked all of my carefully made plans. All of my efforts were focused on the land, not naval warfare. We'd be fighting a defensive battle against the Ironborn while everyone else was off fighting in the south. Between an Ironborn raid gone wrong and avenging Ned Stark and rescuing his daughters, it was obvious which fight the lords of The North would prioritize. The best I could hope for was assistance from Bear Island, since they were frequently attacked by Ironborn raiders as well. I also had good relations with the She-Bears of the North, so I could count on their aid.
Everyone else? Maybe I could count on some sort of help from my father, but House Forrester of the Ironrath was a small house, so any aid they could afford would be minimal at best.
The odds I was facing in the face of the potential clusterfuck coming my way almost made me wish I let the Ironborn retreat that day.
At least I got a valuable hostage out of it...
This chapter was written over ten months, so I'm not too confident in it, but it's basically the epilogue to the King's Landing Arc, so I don't give a shit. If this chapter sucks, just know that we'll be back in the Vale in the next chapter, so you'll at least have that to look forward to... In about a year or two given my current writing speed.
This chapter has three outside POV scenes. Now that Lyon has properly established himself in this world, I'm going to dedicate more time to the effects his actions have on the people around him.
Sansa's POV might be my favorite, since she actually raises a good point in her monologue about Lyon beign a huge dick to everyone around him. Most are too starstruck to see it, like Sansa is with Joffrey, which is ironic considering how much worse Joffrey is, but since Sansa is so into Joffrey, she sees Lyon a bit differently than most do.
Lyon fucking around with the Inn keeper's daughter was pure sexposition. I won't even try to hide it. There are a few things the scene says about Lyon's character as well, but I'll let you lot figure it out.
The Tyrion POV and Iron from Ice part 2 were included because of a vote on Discord. Those fuckers couldn't decide which one they wanted more and the vote ended up in a tie.
Speaking of Discord,
Shiro's Gaming Omniverse: discord .gg/wd3tUYWVCd
Of Fiction And Fuck Ups: discord. gg/68gAdfsTE4
There are bound to be some problems with this chapter, so point them out to me and I'll fix them.
