AN: Hello all, hope you've been well? Here is the next chapter of The Last King I hope you all enjoy it, it was a tricky one to write and I ended up cutting it short as I wasn't happy with the original draft. Even so I am happy with it now and think I made the right choice.
As always if you have any questions PM me and I will get back to you when I can. Also I hope you all leave a review, they are very helpful when it comes to writing my stories.
Also to save people confusion this is the first chapter 12, the previous update was an author's note announcing a poll. That note was deleted and this is the actual chapter 12.
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.
( - )
(Last Time)
It had intrigued her, so much so that she had decided to investigate, which of course meant she would need to travel south, for she could feel through her connection to nature where the man was. Not that that was a problem, the Wall of ice may protect the realms south from the land north, but the protections both magical and physical did nothing to inhibit her passing. The Children after all had helped in the construction of the Wall, she herself had actually been there at the time, eight thousand years ago, and had helped her kin weave the protective magic that they had then imbued into the Wall.
Taking a deep breath, the slightest of frowns marred the girl's face as she felt the power of nature flowing through her. The magic of this land seemed weaker than she remembered, diluted almost. It was a strange feeling, but not a problem, as long as she retained her connection to nature she would never be powerless.
Shifting delicately on the branch, Leaf, for that was her name in the tongue of men, once again shifted into the form of a hawk. With this form being a useful one, as it allowed her to soar high above humans and their settlements, and travel vast swathes of land with ease.
Soon enough she would find this mysterious man, and then she could try to work out just what it was that made him so different, so inhuman.
( - )
Chapter 12
( - )
(In the Tower of the Hand, with Ned Stark)
"The seed is strong." Ned Stark muttered quietly to himself as he looked over the large and ponderous book that Jon Arryn had borrowed before his demise. The Hand of the King currently sitting at the heavy wooden table in the Hand's Tower, a grimace on his face as he once again looked over the same page of the book, the one dedicated to the genealogy of House Baratheon.
Those words, they were the last ones the former Hand, Jon Arryn, had spoken before he had passed from the world. From his conversation with Prince Tytan, he knew the young Prince seemed to think the words referenced Jon's sickly son Robyn Arryn, but Ned, he thought differently. Jon, the man Ned knew put his duty above all else, it was one of the man's most admirable traits. Which is why Ned suspected that Jon's last thoughts would not be of his legacy, which he no doubt loved, but of the Kingdom.
Over the last several weeks Ned, with Varys's frequent assistance, had gone over Jon's last movements. From visiting several of Robert Baratheon's bastards, one in a blacksmiths on the Street of Steel and one in a whore house, to borrowing a book from Grand Maester Pycelle entitled; The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children.
Initially he had been having trouble putting the facts together, after all nothing really made sense and Eddard was admittedly not the most cunning or shrewd of people. But thankfully some words Varys had said had helped him to connect the dots, the Eunuch having likely not realised the import of his words when he had briefly mentioned to Ned just how different Tytan was to his brothers and sisters, and how he truly was his father's son.
Those words, mentioned only in passing as they left the meeting which decided the Targaryen girl's fate had struck Ned. After all they were true, Tytan with his green eyes, thick black hair and powerful body was a perfect combination of Lannister and Baratheon, containing the best bits of both bloodlines.
The younger Princes and Princess though, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen, they were Lannister through and through. With golden blonde hair, thin bodies and green eyes. The younger three were obviously lions, after all he had checked in the book and invariably Baratheon traits always bred true. So for not a single one of the younger children to have any Baratheon traits at all, it raised questions in Ned's mind, questions which Varys had only been partially helpful in answering.
Which is why he had had to come up with the answer himself, when he came to the realization that the youngest three members of the Royal family were probable Bastards. He wasn't sure who their true father was yet, but he suspected it were another Lannister which could mean a cousin of the Queen, though looking back on it Ned strongly suspected it might be the Queen's own brother, as horrifying as that may sound.
It was when he realised that, that Ned finally knew why Jon Arryn had died, and possibly why Stannis Baratheon had fled the Capital for the safety of Dragonstone. The both of them had obviously seen the same thing Ned had, and before either of them could act they had been silenced. After all if the secret came to light, it would not only lead to the deaths of Cersei and her lover, but also of the three younger children.
On top of that it would also through the Crown Prince's parentage into question, after all whilst Ned was quite confident that Tytan was trueborn, the same might not be said for the other High Lords. Plus there was Robert himself, the man had a terrible temper, and in the heat of the moment could make terrible decision. There was a lot at stake here, more than enough to kill over, even if it was someone as powerful as the Hand of the King.
The entire thing was a mess, and as he sat at his desk in the Hand's Tower, looking through the dusty of tome that was partly responsible for Ned's revelation, he couldn't quite decide what his next action should be.
A part of him wanted to go to Robert and speak the true, his honour demanded that he tell the King, his friend that much. But another part of him feared that doing so could destabilize the Kingdom, after all the King might deem it that all of his children are Bastards and cast them all out, including his trueborn son Tytan, a man who had the potential to be a good King.
On top of that there was Tytan himself, how would he react to the revelation, that his siblings are likely the product of incest. Ned knew well enough that Tytan wasn't all that fond of him, more than that he had also come to realise how unpredictable and ruthless the Crown Prince could be. The man was as powerful and untamable as the sea, there was no way Ned could predict his reaction.
This meant that in the end, Ned just wasn't sure what he should do, should he go with his heart and do what his honour demanded of him. Or should he go with his head and resign his post as Hand and head back to Winterfell, after all Stannis likely had the right idea. If someone as important as Jon Arryn, the Former Hand, could be killed off, then it was likely that anybody else who knew the secret was in danger as well. With that danger possibly spreading to his family if he was not careful.
What made things even more complicated was the fact that Robert was currently out of the Capital, the King having left only a few days after the Council Meeting, so he could 'kill tings and clear his head'. Which left Tytan sitting the throne temporarily, and Ned in a bit of a quandary as to what he should do next.
Letting out a sigh, Ned sat back in his chair his eyes closed as he pondered over what the future may hold and what he should do next with the information he now possessed. Sooner or later he would have to act, he could only hope he made the right choice when he did.
( - )
(In the Throne Room, with Tytan)
An amused smile passed across Tytan's face as he leant back in the Iron Throne, his hands idly resting on the arms of the throne, showing no discomfort despite the fact the gaudy chair was forged by combining hundreds of iron swords taken from fallen warriors into a single, uncomfortable chair.
Shifting on his seat, Tytan lazily looked over the crowd of petitioners in the hall, and past his guardsmen lining the wall and the front of the dais he was sat on. With his personal guard, like Ubba and Ivar standing fully armed and armoured around him, his loyal men as ever protecting him.
Looking away from the crowded hall, Tytan's gaze instead came to rest on his Uncle, Tyrion, as he waddled down the hall. Resplendent in a red leather doublet with the golden Lannister lion on and a pair of black breeches. The man looked none the worse for his journey, back form the Wall, if anything the man looked more motivated than Tytan had ever seen him as he made his way towards the throne.
"Uncle, I see you're back from your expedition to the Wall," Tytan said easily, watching as the crowd parted at his words, his Uncle taking advantage of that as he walked to where Tytan was sat. The Imp's eyes wandered over the smartly dressed Tytan and his personal guards including Tyrion's brother Jamie, who as always was stood at Tytan's side, an easy smile on his face and his hand resting broadly on the hilt of his golden sword.
"Why Nephew, am I to take it that you've missed me?" Tytan asked glibly as he came to a halt in front of Tytan's throne, giving the younger man a short bow as he did so, even as he sent Jamie a smirk, receiving one in return.
"Like a hole in the head," Tytan replied dryly, though he did smile slightly, after all he had missed the verbal sparring he and his Uncle usually engaged in. "That being said, I'm surprised you came here. I would have thought you'd be several cups into your wine and trying to get balls deep in a whore by now?"
"All in good time, all in good time," Tyrion replied in amusement, showing no shame that that was probably true. "But no, I heard you were on the throne and so I decided to come to petition you."
"Oh?" Tytan asked, leaning forward in interest as he ignored the muttering from the rest of the hall. The rest of the room were either minor nobles or smallfolk who had come to him with petitions, or the more powerful members of the Court that were here to watch, either to alleviate their own boredom or to spy out opportunities they could take advantage of to enrich themselves. "And what is it you want of the Crown, Uncle?"
"Faster travel between the north and the south for one," Tyrion replied easily, gaining the attention of the surrounding nobles as he did so, and garnering a look of interest from the future King. "Having just travelled from the Wall down to King's Landing I can safely say the journey is long, far too long if we wanted to transport goods, reinforcement or supplies up there in a timely manner. Travel between the Kingdoms as it is at the moment is primitive, and makes it so the different Kingdoms are isolated from one another."
"An intriguing proposition Uncle," Tytan replied as he leant forward in his throne, his gaze on his Uncle. After all the little man had picked up on a problem Tytan had noted but not had the time to look into. "I take it you have ideas for how travel between the north and south could be improved."
"A canal, or rather a series of canals, ones which can be used by barges to quickly and safely transport large amounts of goods, provisions throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Without the danger of pirates on the coastline, the unpredictable tides and storms, or the bandits on the King's Road" Tyrion replied simply, nodding his head as he saw he had his nephew's interest.
"Which would improve trade throughout the Kingdoms, and provide many jobs to smallfolk who we would no doubt rely on to do much of the grunt work," Tytan added, his brow furrowed in thought. It was a good idea, and practical too. "I take it then that you would be amenable to being put in charge of such an operation if the Crown were to approve it?"
"I would accept such a task, yes," Tyrion responded, a part of him actually looking forward to having something to do. Especially since he could make a name for himself with a job such as this, who knows he could be the next Bran the Builder.
"Very well, put together more thorough plans and present them to the Court. If I like what I see I will give you funding from the treasury to build a single canal as a test. If it's successful, we can then discuss further expansion." Tytan replied with a nod, not immediately accepting after all he wanted to see concrete plans first, ones he could maybe pitch in on. After all, although he was by no means an expert on canals, he was knowledgeable enough that he considered his opinion would be helpful. Plus he wanted to ensure his Uncle was serious and would actually do what he said. Call it a matter of trust. But ideas and innovations such as this were not what he had come to expect from the man.
"Thank you, your majesty," Tyrion replied, giving Tytan another short bow as he did so before he turned to leave. The dwarf still feeling the aches and pains of his journey south, his very long journey, one which had allowed him the time and given him the inspiration to come up with this new idea. Call it odd, but spending months on your own allowed the mind to wander, and often times when this happened the strangest of thoughts and ideas could occur.
Nodding in response to that, Tytan watched Tyrion leave the throne room. A curious expression on his face, not really sure what had gotten into his Uncle. After all the man was a waster, he was a lazy, unmotivated, whoremongering drunk, or at least that was the opinion many, Tytan included had of him.
Don't get him wrong, he knew his Uncle was clever and quick-witted, he just didn't expect this kind of innovation from him. Clearly getting out and seeing the Kingdom on his own, and out of the shadow of his family did him some good.
"My Prince, the next petitioner." Pycelle wheezed out from where he was standing just to the side, hovering as close to the throne as the old man could get so he could give Tytan his 'wise' and 'pertinent' counsel. Counsel which Tytan pretty much ignored ninety nine point nine per cent of the time.
"Very well then." Tytan sighed before he looked at who the next person to petition him was, a minor noble by the looks of it, one whose name was called out but which Tytan barely recognised. Only knowing that he belonged to a minor House in the Vale.
"My Prince, I come from the Vale to plead with you to intercede on the people's behalf." The noble, a slightly overweight man with thinning brown hair and a patchy beard gasped out as he gave Tytan a very low bow.
"Oh? And what issue is there that would require me to intercede? Would this not be a request better put to Lysa Arryn, after all, she is the current Regent of the Vale is she not?" Tytan asked, his brow furrowed as he looked this new petitioner over.
"That's where the issue arises your Majesty. The Lady Arryn, she's increased taxes in the Vale tenfold, almost overnight." The noble gasped out, a slight hint of desperation entering his voice now.
"Really?" Tytan frowned, his brow furrowing even further. The taxes for the Vale, like with the other Kingdoms hadn't been raised in at least a year. This meant that this sudden increase in tax was imposed by Lysa Arryn herself, and not something that came from the Crown to increase its own taxation. This to Tytan, didn't really make sense as House Arryn was a wealthy household and in no desperate need of money, or at least as far as he knew. "The Crown has not increased its taxes there?"
"No my Prince, but it is not unprecedented for a Great House to increase its own taxes on its land," Pycelle replied. "Though for it to rise so much is worrying."
"Yes," Tytan replied a scowl now very prominent on his face. After all, what could the woman need all that money for? The only thing he could think of was war. Wars cost a lot of money, and increasing the taxes as she was could be her building up her reserves and her army. The only question was why, why was she doing this, it could be over the death of Jon Arryn, but by all accounts, theirs wasn't a happy marriage, which begged the question of what just the hag was up to.
"I will send a missive to Lady Arryn on the Crown's behalf, and will begin looking into this matter."
"Thank you, your Majesty!" The man gasped out again, giving Tytan yet another bow as he backed away.
But this time Tytan didn't really pay much attention, as he instead pondered over just what was happening in the Vale and whether he should be concerned. After all with the issues arising in Essos with the Targaryen's and Dothraki, the last thing they needed was trouble at home.
( - )
(In Essos)
It was quite late in the evening in Vaes Dothrak when Daenerys was taken to see the dosh khaleen, the wives of former Khals who were slain in battle. She of course knew why she was being brought to see them, her linguistic skills had after all progressed enough for her to find out from her Dothraki handmaidens what the reason may be and what she was likely expected to do.
This was why Daenerys was ready when she was brought to the dosh khaleen's sacred tent, and told that she must eat a stallion's heart, raw, whilst the dozen or dosh khaleen both young and old read the omens so that they could use their 'mystic powers' to foretell what her child will be destined to accomplish. A task which was as appetising and barbaric as it sounded.
Not that Daenerys put up that much of a fuss over it. She knew enough about the Dothraki culture to know that this wasn't optional. Plus with Khal Drogo and many other Dothraki in attendance, along with Ser Jorah Mormont and Viserys the pressure was on.
Which is why she was currently standing in the middle of the tent, clad in stinking horse leather garments and holding a chunk of raw horse meat in her hands. Hiding her grimace and ignoring the disgusted expressions on both Jorah and Viserys's faces as she went ahead with the ritual. Her swollen stomach, now showing the signs of her pregnancy as it poked out of her leathers, the bump now covered in the blood which was dripping down from the raw meat in her hands.
Closing her eyes for a second, hoping to centre herself, Daenerys then started off the gruesome task ahead of her, her face twisting slightly as she slowly began to eat the heart. Tearing into the bloody mass of raw meat, trying not to think about what it was as she chewed the tough, bloody meat and forced herself to swallow it. The taste was horrible, the texture tough and the smell foul, but she knew there would be consequences if she didn't finish, and for both her sake and the sake of her unborn child she forged ahead.
"So, she has to eat the whole heart?" Viserys asked, a grim look on the gaunt man's face as he turned to look at Jorah, his disgust intensifying when he saw the older man's nod. "Hope that wasn't my horse."
"She is doing well," Jorah replied softly, his own gaze on the white haired girl, the slightest hint of fondness in his eyes as he watched the progress she was making. She might be ill-educated and rough around the edges by the standard of the Westerosi nobility, but the girl had heart and a strong will. He doubted there were many noble women in Westeros who would be able to do what Daenerys was doing here and now, even if it was for their own survival.
"She'll never keep it down." Viserys replied dismissively, the distaste obvious on his face as he looked down on his sister. Not that Daenerys heard him, as despite his words she kept going, not stopping, even as the rest of the Dothraki savages began chanting in their barbaric, guttural speech. Quickly following after that the head dosh khaleen, the oldest amongst them stood up, her arms wide as she started to loudly proclaim something in the language which Viserys couldn't understand.
"Tell me what she's saying?" Viserys snapped, not missing the fondness in Jorah's eyes as he looked at his sister, but dismissing it for now so he could find out just what was going on.
"The Prince is riding. I've heard the thunder of his hooves, swift as the wind he rides. His enemies will cower before him. Their wives will weep tears of blood. She's going to have a boy." Jorah replied gruffly, his brow furrowed as he saw a smirk on Khal Drogo's face even as Daenerys continued to gorge herself on the flesh of a dead horse. Jorah ignored Viserys sharp intake of breath as he did this, his attention was more on Daenerys than on the spoiled princeling beside him.
"He won't be a real Targaryen though. He won't be a true dragon." Viserys sneered in response, a glare on his face as he looked suspiciously at his sister.
Jorah didn't reply to that, even if he wanted to make a comment about whether or not Viserys himself was 'a true dragon'. After all both Daenerys and himself had engaged in such discussions themselves over the last few days, with the two of them speaking more and more as Daenerys question him over what he knew of Westeros, the Great Lord's and the Blessed Prince.
Eventually, after what seemed hours, but was probably more like a few minutes Daenerys finished the last of the heart, which meant all she had to do now was to try and keep it down.
Taking a deep breath, Daenerys suddenly convulsed for a moment, bending forward and gagging as everyone was silent to see if she couldn't keep the heart down. Her head was plastered in sweat, and the front and the end of her silvery hair were stained red from the blood from the heart, but even so, she continued to try and keep the foul meal down.
Closing her eyes, Daenerys fixed her mind on her current goals; survive childbirth and her husband, raise her son and take the Iron Throne. With those thoughts in mind, she willed herself to keep her foul meal down, regaining her composure as shakily stood up. Her gaze was now fixed on the brutish face of her husband as he smiled at her, no doubt the large, violent man was happy to see that his wife was strong and that she was able to successfully complete the ritual, after all that meant that his son, his heir would be strong too.
Before anything else could happen, the head dosh khaleen, a withered old woman with white hair and a weathered, heavily aged face spoke again, with the nearby Jorah translating for Viserys's benefit.
"The Stallion that mounts the world. The Stallion is the Khal of Khals, he shall unite the people into a single Khalesar. All the people of the world shall be his herd!"
With that said Daenerys then stood up, choosing to speak the brutish Dothraki language as she looked around at the occupants of the tent and declared that her son would be named Rhaego, in honour of her brother Rhaegar who was slain by Robert Baratheon. Hoping as she did so that she would be able to get away with naming her child, after all although she knew some things, she didn't know enough about Dothraki culture to be sure. But despite that she was still willing to take the risk.
The Dothraki, both blood rider, dosh khaleen and others all then began to chant the new Prince's name, as Drogo finally stood up from where he was sat and approached his young wife. The hulking, heavily muscled man standing at nearly seven foot and towering over his young and short Daenerys.
Watching all of this Viserys scowled, his anger and hatred rising as he heard the people in the tent chanting the name of his soon to be born Nephew, and his weak and pathetic sister. Already he could feel the tides turning as what little control he felt he had over the Dothraki eroded even further as his sister continued to rise to prominence, whilst Viserys just felt like a fool, one Drogo played when he took his sister and didn't pay the price he had agreed for her.
"They love her," Viserys said disgustedly as he watched Drogo lift her up like some valuable prize, even his people continued to chant and cheer.
"She truly has become a Queen today," Jorah replied, turning to Viserys as he did so, only to see that the older Targaryen had already left the tent.
( - )
Ignoring the sounds of celebration and chanting behind him, Viserys quickly left the Dothraki's sacred tent and instead headed back to his own, almost breaking into run as he burst inside and grabbed his sword and strapping it to his side, before he quickly packed up a bag full of his meagre possessions.
With that done he then went to Daenerys's tent, bursting in without a care in the world and rummaging careless through her belongings, before he came upon what he was looking for, a closed wooden chest. Opening the chest, Viserys looked down on the three very valuable dragon eggs held within, enough to buy him a ship and a small army.
Taking a moment to marvel at the three petrified eggs, Viserys then grinning viciously, quickly making to put them in his bag. If he was leaving, he wouldn't be leaving empty handed, he would be taking as much as he could to re-compensate himself for the loss of his sister.
Which would start with him taking the petrified dragons eggs she'd been given as a wedding present, which is what he did now as he grabbed the green one and put it into his bag, before he could take the other two however he was distracted by the sound of someone else approaching the tent. The crunch of boots on the dry ground easily audible to the nervous young Prince.
Panicking at this realisation, Viserys quickly closed the chest and moved to the other side of the tent, grabbing the hilt of his sword as he did so, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to lash out at whoever it was, even if it was his sister.
"Don't let them see you carry a sword in Vaes Dothrak, you know the law." Jorah Mormont spoke up softly as he entered the tent, his eyes narrowing as he looked suspiciously at the Targaryen Prince opposite him. The older man currently wearing only a simply shirt, leather breeches and leather boots, the former knight having taken off both his armour and his weapon in respect of the Dothraki's laws.
"It's not my law." Viserys replied, his eyes narrowed as he stepped towards the centre of the room, unsheathing the first inch of his sword as he looked suspiciously at Jorah. He had seen the way the older man had been acting, ever since they had first arrived at Vaes Dothrak his allegiance had become clear.
Viserys wasn't stupid, he could see that much, just as he could see the man's obvious infatuation with Daenerys. The other two might have thought him ignorant, but he had listened in on their whispered conversations, both about the Iron Throne, and the Crown Prince. If his foolish sister wanted to believe the man's fairy tales that was fine, but Viserys wouldn't. Nor would he trust this man, this traitor.
"What are you doing in here?!" Jorah suddenly said, his eyes narrowing as he looked around at the ransacked tent, taking it in for the first time as he focused back on the guilty looking Prince.
"I'm leaving, Drogo has betrayed me and my sister has usurped me." Viserys snapped back, his grip on his sword tightening as he drew it another inch out of its scabbard.
"Very well, but why are you here, in this tent?" Jorah pressed, his gaze flicking down to the sword at Viserys's hip.
"I need money if I'm to leave don't I?!" Viserys replied sharply, not wanting to give away the true reason here, not to a man he didn't trust. "My sister has enough gold trinkets around here."
"Well those trinkets are not yours." Jorah replied, his eyes narrowing as he bought Viserys story.
"Everything that is hers, is mine!" Viserys snapped back, glad he hadn't revealed what he was really up to.
"Not anymore." Jorah said bluntly. "Now get out of Daenerys's tent."
"You swore an oath to me. Does loyalty mean nothing to you?" Viserys replied, unsheathing his sword now and holding it at the ready. He might not be a naturally talented swordsman like his brother Rhaegar was, but he fancied his chances against an unarmed man.
"It means everything to me." Jorah replied grimly, his hard eyes on the tip of Viserys's curved sword.
"And yet still you stand against me." Viserys said, his blade up and ready as he watched Jorah shifting around, moving into a defensive position even if he lacked his usual weapons and armour.
"Yes, now put whatever you've taken back and leave." Jorah replied one last time.
"I think not." Viserys replied sharply, before without another word he lashed out with his blade, forcing Jorah to stumble backwards as the blade cut through his shirt and drew blood.
( - )
(In King's Landing with Ned Stark)
It was a warm day in King's Landing, as it often was and Ned Stark was currently stood grimly in the godswood, his brow furrowed as he looked down on the white stump which had once been a majestic Weirwood tree.
Currently the northern Lord was alone, but he knew it wouldn't be for long. After all he had come here for a reason, as Robert was set to be back from his hunting trip any day now and Ned needed to have a frank conversation with the Queen before he returned.
"Lord Stark?" A soft, yet somewhat cold voice suddenly spoke up, interrupting Ned from his thoughts as he looked up, only to see a golden hair woman approaching him, her long red dress flowing behind her, as for once she appeared before him unaccompanied by either guards or handmaidens. Though as he looked at her he could see her usual entourage hovering about some two dozen or so metres behind her, well out of earshot. "I heard you were here, and that you had an interest in seeing me?"
It was a polite way for her to say it, but effectively he had summoned her here. Using the powers given to him in Robert's absence to do so, after all Prince Tytan wasn't the only one who gained more power and influence in Robert's absence, so to did the Hand. "I did, yes."
"May I ask, why here?" Cersei replied evenly, her voice tightening as he ignored her previous question about just why he had summoned her, and how the northern brute had the gall to do such a thing.
"So the gods can see." Ned replied bluntly as he turned away from the sad remains of the Weirwood tree and instead fully faced the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, taking a slow breath and steeling himself as he did so.
Cersei raised an eyebrow at that, but kept any mocking comments to herself as she instead studied the northern Lord, who as always was dressed in dark clothing with a sword strapped to one hip, curiously.
"I know the truth Jon Arryn died for." Eddard suddenly said, the comment coming out as bluntly as ever, the Lord of Winterfell not even attempting to be subtle about it.
"Do you?" Cersei asked softly, her green eyes narrowing as she looked at him speculatively, not giving anything away, not yet, "Is that what you called me for Lord Stark? To pose me riddles? If that were the case you might be better off talking to Varys or to my brother Tyrion, they know more about the things you speak of."
"Not Jamie?" Ned asked calmly, ignoring the way Cersei tried to implicate both Tyrion and Varys as he did so.
"My twin brother, he's is a strong and noble man, but not the best at riddles." Cersei replied dryly.
"Your brother?" Ned began, slowly, "Or your lover?"
Cersei paused as she heard that, her green eyes looking intently at Eddard, before she elegantly shrugged.
"Both. Since we were children together. And why not? The Targaryens wed brother and sister together for centuries to keep the bloodline pure. And Jaime and I are more than brother and sister, we are one person in two bodies. We shared a womb together, we came into this world together, and we will likely leave it together. When he is in me, I feel...whole." A ghost of a smile fluttered over her lips as she said that, the Queen not shying away from the truth, or denying it. Not when she could read Ned Stark like a book and see that he had already decided on the truth, and she knew enough about the stubborn Lord to know nothing she said now would sway him from that conclusion.
"My son Bran..." Ned said slowly, his thoughts going back to his early suspicions on how his son, as good as climbing as he was had fallen. He had no proof, and nothing more than a slight suspicions as he connected vague dots, but Cersei's slight twitch and facial expression cemented those suspicions.
Cersei tilted her head slightly as she heard the accusation, before once again assuming that Lord Stark knew the truth, and would not be swayed. "He saw us, it was an unfortunate accident, but action had to be taken however distasteful it might have been. Tell me though Lord Stark, do you love your children?"
"I do." Ned replied, not hesitating for a second.
"No less than I love mine." Cersei replied softly
Ned held back a frown as he heard this, knowing as he did what fate might befall her children, Robert had precedent after all, even now Ned could remember the King smiling down at the bloody corpses of the Targaryen children as they were laid before him. Still that was why he had called her out here today, as he hoped to bring this to a bloodless conclusion.
"And they are all Jaime's?" Ned said, before pausing. "Apart from Tytan?"
"Yes." Cersei replied, once again not hiding the fact. "Tytan was my first born, and my only son with Robert, and may the gods be thanked for that. After Tytan's birth and in the rare event that Robert leaves his whores for long enough to stumble drunk into my bed, I was able to finish him off in other ways. In the morning he doesn't remember."
"You've always hated him." Ned said, hiding his grimace as he heard that fact. Though he was glad to hear that he had been right about Tytan, that at least one child held Robert's blood, and that there was a trueborn heir to the Iron Throne.
"Hated him? I worshipped him. Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of marrying him but it was mine by oath. And when I finally saw him on our wedding day in the sept of Balor, lean and powerful a true warrior King, it was one of the happiest moments of my life. But that night he crawled on top of me, stinking of wine and did what little he could do. And do you know what he whispered in my ear, he whispered the name Lyanna. Your sister was a corpse and I was a living girl, and still he loved her more than me." Cersei replied the first hint of real anger entering her voice.
"And yet you birthed him a son." Ned asked.
"Yes Tytan, is without doubt the best thing Robert has ever done." Cersei replied, her anger fading for a moment as she thought of her eldest, the slightest of smile on her face now. "You know when he was first born I thought that this might be it, that he might be the spark that ignited the passion and love in our marriage. Unfortunately though it was not to be, it didn't matter that I had birthed him a son, a perfect one, one blessed by the gods themselves, for he could still not stop thinking about his obsession, Lyanna fucking Stark!"
Ned flinched as he heard that, but didn't reply as he felt she wasn't finished.
"So when he once again lost interest and went back to his whores, I decided to wash my hands of him. I had my Tytan, he could drown himself in wine and whores for all I cared." Cersei replied, her mind drifting back to the anger and frustration of those days, when the only things that calmed her down were the solemn eyes of her son and the warmth of her brother.
"When the King returns from his hunt, I'll have no choice but to tell him the truth about you and your youngest children. You must be gone by then. Take Joffrey, Tommen, Myrcella away from here, away from Westeros, go to Essos if you must. Go as far away as you can, with as many men as you can, because wherever you go, Robert's wrath will follow you, not even Tytan or I can stop that." Ned grimly, deciding as always to pick his heart and his honour over everything else.
"And what of my wrath, Lord Stark? Do you truly think anything good will come out of this, out of any of it?" Cersei snapped, not really all that worried about Ned Stark's threats. After all she had Tytan, if Ned did succeed in telling Robert, and she and her children were forced into exile. Then it would only take Robert dying and Tytan becoming the new King for her and her children to be allowed back, their honour intact and their enemies ripe for the taking. She truly could see no benefit in Ned Stark's actions.
Even so, she wouldn't take this sitting down, not when Eddard Stark's words could so easily destabilise Tytan's rise to prominence. Tytan might be trueborn, but Cersei knew of Robert's temper, and of the vipers in the Court. It would do to leave her precious son vulnerable if she could help it.
"I've made many mistakes in my life. But telling Robert the truth will not be one of them." Ned replied, closing his eyes solemnly as he did so. "I will try to help your children as much as I can, for their sake if not for yours. But your time as Queen is finished."
"Oh, is it?" Cersei asked her tone cold, "Did you know when you play the game of thrones, you either win or you die. There is no middle ground."
Ned opened his eyes and looked at her coolly as she said that. "Is that a threat?"
"More of a warning." Cersei replied, before she looked at him curiously, already suspecting the answer but wanting confirmation. "And what of Tytan in all of this? What of my eldest?"
"He is trueborn, and I will tell Robert such. He will be shamed by your actions, and no doubt disgusted. But he will sit the throne, and I will help him however I can." Ned replied, internally wincing at the thought of having to tell the Crown Prince of his mother's crimes.
Cersei narrowed her eyes at that, a part of her uncertain about what Tytan's reaction would be. Would he believe Ned Stark's story, or would he reject it. Either way a plan had already come to Cersei's mind, she wouldn't leave any of this to chance, she knew how terrible Robert's temper could be.
"You're playing a dangerous game Eddard Stark." Cersei said softly, her cold green eyes meeting his stoic grey ones for a moment, before she turned and swept away. Leaving behind her a conflicted Eddard Stark, one who even now was wondering whether he had just done the right thing, or whether he had just made a horrible mistake.
( - )
AN: So that's it what do you all think? I hope you enjoyed it. I know I might be getting some questions about Ned Stark's actions in this chapter, which are the same as canon, but that is because Percy's presence has not altered Ned's personality nor his sense of honour. Which is what leads him to both warning Cersei of his actions so she can save her children and telling Robert what's happened. The only difference now is that their is a true heir that Ned knows about.
That being said there are differences else where, both in the Kingdom at large as Tyrion, back from his trip uncaptured and no longer suffocated by his terrible family has started to spread his wings so to speak. Also Viserys has gotten wise to Jorah's loyalties early on due to Daenrys's curiosity about Tytan, which has led to him acting in a different manner to before. Suffice to say I have plenty of plans for what is to happen and the deviations form canon will only continue.
Hope you all enjoyed the story and leave a review at the end.
Thanks for reading.
Greed720