AN: Hey everyone just doing a quick update here as I am watching the England game tonight. Either way here is Chapter 13, unlucky for some, but I personally think its a pretty good chapter. Hope everyone enjoys it, there is a lot of stuff happening in it so make sure to read closely.
Hope you all enjoy the chapter and please leave a review at the end. Also again thank you everyone for all of your support.
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones, even if I wished I did.
( - )
(Last Time)
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.
( - )
Chapter 13
( - )
(With Daenerys in Essos)
There was a worried expression on Daenerys Targaryen's face as she paced backwards and forwards within her tent, her violet eyes occasionally flicking over to the carved wooden box resting on a nearby table. The chest and the three petrified dragon eggs that it had once held had been a wedding present from Illyrio Mopatis. Now though the chest only two of the dragon eggs, the red and the black one, with the third petrified egg, the green one having been stolen the night before by her brother Viserys.
Unfortunately though stealing wasn't the only crime her brother had committed that night, after all he'd also been caught in the act of stealing from her, and had responded by attacking the unarmed and unarmoured Ser Jorah Mormont. This for Daenerys was one of the main reasons for her concern at the moment, after all the petrified dragon eggs, as intriguing and fascinating as she found them were merely expensive and decorative baubles, Ser Jorah however was her friend, and also her only connection to Westeros and the throne which belonged to her family. A throne that she one day hopped to sit in, with her son sitting in it after her.
Currently Daenerys was in her private tent by herself, worrying away as she impatiently waited for the Dothraki healers to tell her whether Jorah would live, or whether the wound inflicted was too grievous and would take his life.
So far it had been a few hours since they had begun trying to save his life, after he had been found bleeding to death in her tent in the early hours of the morning, barely clinging to life with a fearsome wound running from his right shoulder to his left hip, a wound that had apparently been given to him by her brother before he had fled the camp and the retribution that would follow in terror.
Not that she was under any illusion that her craven brother would get very far, even if he had had a several hour dead start. No, her foolish brother had made the terrible mistake of spilling blood in Vaes Dothrak, the Dothraki's sacred land, and as such Daenerys's husband, Khal Drogo, had ridden out with a band of warriors to track her brother down and bring him back for punishment, and so he could atone for his insult to their gods, no doubt by being very painfully executed. Her husband after all was not someone known for his mercy.
A part of her wanted to pity the fate which would no doubt befall her brother when he was brought back, but a greater part of her found that she just didn't care what happened to him. He had betrayed her, he had abandoned her and he had wounded her friend, as far as she was concerned he deserved whatever punishment Drogo chose to give him. Plus she would also get her dragon egg back, and be rid of her abusive older sibling, someone who'd tormented her for most of her life.
Before the silver haired girl could think any more on the matter though, she was distracted from her macabre thought by the entrance to her tent opening as a tanned, middle-aged Dothraki woman entered the tent, her hands stained with blood and a distinctly disgruntled expression on her face.
"Well, is he going to live?" Daenerys demanded in Dothraki the moment she saw the healer, quickly turning so she could fully face the older and taller woman.
"He will live, for now." The healer, a middle aged woman with prematurely greying hair and strong limbs replied abruptly. Her attitude somewhat dismissive as she looked around the tent and realised Daenerys was the only one inside, with this woman like the slaves that attended Daenerys being a true Dothraki woman, rough, tough and completely indifferent to things like propriety.
Daenerys though ignored this trait, as it was the way many of the Dothraki women she had spoken to acted. Instead the young girl let out a pleased sigh as she heard the news, happy to hear that her friend/ confidant/ advisor would live. Before she could celebrate too much though, the woman continued speaking.
"There is a chance his wound might fester though, we've cleaned it and bound it. You will just have to hope the gods favour him." The woman forged on, an uncaring expression on her face as she discussed the fate of some Westerosi warrior.
"Oh." Daenerys replied, her smile fading now, before she could ask anything else the abrasive woman once again continued to speak.
"Also Khal Drogo has returned." The woman continued, her expression bland as she wiped the blood, Jorah's blood, off of her hands using the front of her own clothing to do so, as she eyed the pregnant Daenerys up and down.
"And? Does he have my brother?" Daenerys demanded, the silver haired woman getting a bit irritated with the healer's attitude now.
"No, he does not have the outsider." The healer replied brusquely, before with a brief nod to Daenerys she turned and left the tent, no longer caring to stand around talking to the weak, pale skinned girl now that she had given her the news on her friend and husband.
Daenerys frowned as she saw that, but said no more as she followed the other woman out of the tent, her gaze immediately finding her hulking husband, who as she looked at him, she could see was even angrier than usual as he dismounted his horse and marched over to her, his dark eyes fixed on his pregnant wife.
"My brother?" Daenerys asked quietly, the silver haired woman feeling a little meeker now her husband had arrived, the large man towering over her as he came to a stop a foot or so away his expression as rough and cruel as ever.
"Gone." Drogo replied, his voice deep and guttural and his expression even more angered. "We tracked him to a nearby settlement, he got on a ship. The men there said he was headed to Westeros!"
"He's going back home?" Daenerys asked in disbelief, unable to understand just what her brother was thinking, surely he knew he would be killed if he went to Westeros. Even now decades after the rebellion, the Usurper Robert Baratheon still wanted both of their heads on a platter.
"Yes." Drogo replied bluntly, before without another word he swept past her, shouting at his warriors as he did so, demanding that they start getting ready to leave, announcing as he did so that he and his Khalasar would soon be leaving Vaes Dothrak.
Daenerys twisted around as she heard that, unsure of where Drogo was planning on taking the Khalasar or what was going through the man's mind. Not that she was going to argue, she was still very much aware of her place in the Khalasar, she was Drogo's wife, her fate was tied to his. Which also meant that she could be put aside or killed if the man willed it and no one but Jorah would speak up in her defense. That or she could be replaced if the man decided he was bored of her and wanted a new woman to warm his bed.
Either way she was aware enough to know that she couldn't demand that they follow her brother, just as she couldn't ask that they stay longer so Jorah could recover from his wounds. Instead it just meant that she would have to get ready to leave with the rest of the warriors, and just hope for the best.
Scowling at that thought, Daenerys turned to a few of the camp slaves, the few people she could legitimately order around, commanding them as she did so to pack up her tent and belongings. She wasn't sure where they were going, but hopefully Drogo would stay true to his word and capture the Seven Kingdoms for the Targaryen's, after all Viserys might have fled, but Daenerys was still here as was her son and heir, the soon to be born Rhaego Targaryen.
( - )
(With Viserys on the Narrow Sea)
"Let me out! Don't you know who I am?! Let me out! Let me out!" Viserys shouted, slamming his fists on the barred door in front of him, his gaunt face tinged red with anger as he shouted and screamed at the men around him, like he had for the last hour or so since they had thrown him in here and cast off.
"Yeah we know who you are, that's why we haven't killed you!" A dark skinned man replied bluntly, a large smile on his face as he looked down at the imprisoned Viserys, before he turned his head and spat out of a nearby port hole. A deep chuckle leaving the large, gaudily dressed man's mouth as he watched the richly dressed boy struggle.
"I paid you, I paid you in good faith! You gods damned pirates!" Viserys shrieked, almost incandescent with rage as he thrust his arm through the bars of the door and tried to futilely claw at the man opposite him. A man who he thought had been an honourable merchant, one who Viserys had paid to take him to Slaver's Bay and as far away from the likely pissed off Dothraki horde as possible.
It had all gone so wrong though, after Jorah had confronted him in his sister's tent he had attacked the stupid man, cutting him down with his sword as he did so, only for him to later panic when he realised the possible consequences of his actions.
After that he had grabbed a horse and fled, not even sticking around to finish ransacking his sister's tent, not when he knew the Dothraki could be chasing after him at any moment. He had after all just killed a man in their scared land, and he knew the barbarians would not allow such an insult to pass, nor would they appreciate Viserys stealing from Khal Drogo's wife.
At the time it had seemed a grand idea, but once he had done it he knew he was fucked. Which is why he had fled to the nearest settlement with a port, riding as fast as he could, before trying to barter passage to one of the Slaver cities. Hoping as he did so that he could trade in the egg he had stolen for a ship and some enslaved soldiers, it wouldn't be much but it would be a start.
Unfortunately though he hadn't counted on the fact that the men he had engaged to take him to Slaver's Bay had been pirates, or that they would recognise his distinctive appearance and realised that he was a Targaryen.
"Yes, but other people will pay more." The dark skinned pirate replied with another grin, "And you know, you probably shouldn't have trusted a band of pirates…"
"Where are you taking me!?" Viserys suddenly demanded, his eyes widening as he heard the pirates reply, a part of him scared that he might be taken back to the Dothraki camp, though that didn't make sense considering they were on the sea and the Dothraki camp was some six or seven hours hard ride in land.
"Why we're taking you home of course. I'm sure Robert Baratheon would pay a pretty penny for you boy, he does have a hankering for killing Targeryen's after all. Besides who knows he might be interested in that pretty rock you were carrying with you too, what better place to sell such a gaudy piece of trash then in King's Landing?" The pirate captain replied with a loud laugh, taking pleasure in the loud and bratty boy's sudden terror.
"Y-you can't take me there, y-you can't take me to Westeros, he'll kill me!" Viserys shouted in fear, his previous anger and bravado now completely gone, and instead replaced with terror.
"You say that like I should care." The captain replied with a sneer.
"Take me to Pentos, a merchant there, Illyrio Mopatis, he'll pay a vast sum for me." Viserys shouted out desperately, unsure if what he said was true, but hoping the captain might take him at his word.
"Maybe he will, maybe he won't." The captain replied easily, before he shrugged and sent Viserys a cheerful smile. "But Robert Baratheon definitely will, and I'm pretty sure a King can out bid some petty merchant from Pentos."
With that said the man turned and left, ignoring Viserys pleas as he did so, the man instead whistling jaunty a sea shanty as he went up on deck, pleased that he would soon be offloading the bratty Targaryen boy for some vast sum of gold.
This of course left Viserys alone in the bowels of the ships, his face pale and his body shaking as he sagged to the floor, uncaring of the fact he was sitting in around six inches of filthy sea water, as instead the only thing he could think of was the fate that awaited him when they got to King's Landing.
( - )
(With Tytan in King's Landing)
Rushing through the Red Keep, the servant's breaths came out quite ragged as he dodged around other servants and men at arms in the hallways, his mind focused on one thing, the task he had been given.
Without much thought the servant then quickly burst through a set of double doors, quickly leaving the keep as he jogged down a few steps, hearing the sound of clanging steel and shouts as he part ran, part walked the rest of the way as he finally found the man he was looking for.
"Prince Tytan!" The servant, clad as he was in Baratheon livery shouted as he ran into one of the training yards around the Red Keep, the one many in the keep knew was regularly used by Tytan and his men when they trained in the morning.
It was only as he burst into the small yard, that the servant quickly realised how rude he was being and that he was interrupting Prince Tytan whilst he was in the middle of duelling with his Uncle, Ser Jamie Lannister. The Prince in question currently rearing a mail hauberk, plate armour greaves and bracers and a simple helmet which looked to have been borrowed from one of his personal guards. Ser Jamie meanwhile was wearing his full Kingsguard armour, a golden hilted blade in one hand and a wooden shield in the other.
Currently the young Prince was in the midst of duel with the older man, his left arm held behind his back, and his right leg and arm forward as he used his longsword with a single hand. The Prince shifting forwards and backwards, his left leg slightly behind him and bent as he fought the other man.
Even as the servant watched he could see that Tytan was easily beating his Uncle back, using both his superior strength and skill to force the older man on the defensive. This though was likely what Jamie had predicted would happen, because the Kingslayer unlike Tytan had gone for a sword and shield combo and was fighting in a very defensive manner compared to the Prince's currently aggressive style of swordplay.
That's not to say Ser Jamie wasn't skilled, for the man wasn't known as one of the finest swords in Westeros for no reason, it just meant that Tytan was simply better than him. This of course was well-known to the other men watching the fight, which is why none of them showed any surprise, when upon hearing the servant shout, Tytan unleashed a fast kick into the face of Jamie's shield, sending the man staggering backwards.
After which Tytan moved in, easily batting Jamie's sword away, leaving him open for Tytan to step into his guard and stick his right leg behind Jamie's, after which he decked the older man in chest with the hilt of his sword. The blow knocking Jamie onto his arse, much to the amusement of the watching men, as Ubba, Matthias and Martin all handed over the gold they had bet on Jamie to Ivar, the three of them having bet that Jamie would have lasted twice as long as he had.
"Prince Tytan!" The servant said again, pausing at the edge of the training yard now as he sent the Crown Prince a nervous look and a bow, watching as the handsome dark haired man rested his sword on his shoulder and pulled the helmet from his head. A cheerful smile on the man's face, and a not a bead of sweat to be seen as he flashed his disgruntled Uncle a grin before he turned to look over at the servant.
"What is it?" Tytan asked mildly, before without another word he stabbed his simple borrowed sword into the dirt, before he rested his helmet on the hilt. The Prince's gaze turning curious now as he looked over at the flushed, red faced servant, aware as he did that Ubba was roughly pulling Jamie back onto his feet behind him. "I thought I ordered that no one was to disturb me whilst I am training?"
"My apologies my Prince, but Lord Renly Baratheon sent me. It's your father sire, King Robert, he has been gravely injured in the King's Wood and has just been brought back to the keep." The servant continued, once again giving the Crown Prince a low bow as he did so, after all he had seen the state of the King when he was brought back, and he knew that the man before him would very soon be crowned the new King of the Seven Kingdoms. Which meant it was even more important to kiss his royal arse.
"I see, you may leave us." Tytan replied calmly, his face expressionless as he gazed up at the Red Keep.
"My Prince…" The servant began again.
"You can ensure my Uncle that I will be with my father momentarily." Tytan cut him off, his green eyes now fixed on the servant, who as he saw the look gulped before giving Tytan another bow, after which he turned and fled back to the Keep, so he could go and inform Lord Renly of the Prince's response..
"Sounds like your father's on his death bed." Ivar spoke up bluntly, pocketing his recently won gold as he did so and approached Tytan, with Ivar like the rest of Tytan's men currently wearing his full armour and weaponry, after all they had planned to do some training in the yard all morning, and then retire to one of the Prince's brothels for the rest of the afternoon.. "Well fuck, I guess that means you're going to be our new King?"
"Ivar." Martin said, his gaze slightly reproachful as he looked over to the sly blonde.
"No it's fine, there's no love lost between Robert and I. Still I thought he would have stuck around a few more years." Tytan replied softly, finding as he did so that he really didn't seem to care when he heard his father was on his deathbed, the man meant that little to him.
"Tytan." Jamie said solemnly, standing now as he approached his nephew and put his gauntleted hand on his shoulder.
As Jamie did so a strange expression passed across his face, a conflicted one as he came to the realisation that his sister, Cersei, might have had something to do with this, she had after all filled him in on her conversation dangerous with Ned Stark. That being said she hadn't told him she was planning on murdering the current King, after all he would have had a distinct response to such a potentially dangerous and foolish plot.
"It's fine." Tytan replied brusquely, before he gestured for a nearby servant, this one wearing Lannister colours, to come over. "Get me a clean tunic and breeches, a pair of boots too. I want them in my chambers by the time I get up there."
"My Prince." The servant replied with bow before he hurried away.
Seeing that Tytan began to head to the Red Keep, planning to go to his bedchamber so he could strip off his foul smelling armour and wear something clean when he went to see his dying father.
As he did this his men dutifully followed after him, all of them being strangely quiet as the entered the Red Keep and saw all the servants and guardsmen rushing around. Each one of them walking in formation around the Prince, holding on to the hilts of their weapons and keeping an eye out. After all with the King so indisposed this was the perfect time for a coup, and considering the nest of snakes that was King's Landing, such a possibility should never be dismissed out of hand.
( - )
(With Ned in the King's Chambers)
There was a grimace on Ned Stark's face as he entered the King's Chambers and looked down on the state of his old friend, his mouth clenching as the stench of blood and bile filled is nose.
King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name, King of the Andals and the Firstmen, Protector of the Realm and King of the Seven Kingdoms was dying. Currently the black bearded man was lying on his bed now bloodstained bed, his face gaunt, his brow beaded with sweat and his eyes sunken. No longer did he look like the fat, yet gregarious King he had been only days before, instead now he looked like a man with one foot in the grave.
Looking down at him Ned could see the massive wound in the man's gut, caused when he was apparently gored by a wild boar. At a glance Ned could see how bad it was, the wound was deep, and from just a single look Ned knew there was no recovering from it, even now Ned could see fresh blood was seeping through the wounds dressing. The King was not long for this world and everyone in the room knew it.
As Ned entered the room, he quickly noticed that the dying man was talking to his sons, Joffrey and Tommen, with Tytan having not come by yet. With Robert telling the two of them in a raspy that he wished had been a better father to them than he had, which is why they had not turned out better men. It was rough, but the King obviously was trying to get everything off of his chest now before he passed away for good even if it was to apologise to his sons for his failure as a father. With the King's passing leaving his eldest son, Tytan, as the new King of the Seven Kingdoms.
Walking quietly into the room, Ned looked away from his dying friend and instead saw that Cersei, Pycelle, and Barristan were all already there, all of them watching as Ned entered the room, with him having left both Renly and his friend Loras outside. Renly having wanted to talk with Ned about something, quite urgently to by the sounds of it.
Making eye contact with the Queen, Ned knew almost in an instant that this had been no hunting accident, no matter what Renly had said. Just looking at her Ned knew that she had something to do with this. He had no doubt that this had been done in an attempt to stop Robert from finding out her secret, and thus stop him from punishing Cersei and her three youngest for their mother's crimes.
"It was my fault Ned, I had too much wine. I missed my thrust." Robert said with a chuckle as he looked away from his sons and saw Ned, a forced smile spreading across his face as he saw how the Stark Lord looked as grim and stoic as ever.
"Robert." Ned muttered, knowing as he did that this was likely the last time he would see his friend.
"Stinks. Stinks like death. Don't think I can't smell it. Ha Ha Ha, I paid the bastard back though, Ned, you should've seen it, I drove my knife right through his brain. You can ask him if I didn't, ask Barristan, he was there." Robert said ignoring Ned's expression as he instead continued on with his story, the last he would ever tell.
"I want the funeral feast to be the biggest feast the Kingdoms have ever seen Ned, and I want everyone to taste the boar that got me. Now leave us the lot of you. I need to talk to Ned." Robert said happily, before his tone turned gruffer as he tried to wave away the other hangers on, wanting to speak to Ned alone as he did so.
"Robert, my sweet…" Cersei began, her tone turning soft as she moved forwards.
"Out all of you!" Robert growled, his gaze turning angry for a second as he once again tried to wave them out.
Seeing this, and at a stern look from Ned the other occupants of the room filed out until it was just Robert and Ned left.
"You're a damned fool." Ned muttered as he looked down at Robert, both angry and sad at his friend's condition.
Robert sent Ned a bloody grin as he heard that, before his face twisted into a more serious expression. "Look Ned, I'm not going to survive this, I think we all know that much."
Ned nodded grimly at that, not wanting to give his friend false hope.
"That means that Tytan will be the next man to sit the throne." Robert stated bluntly, "He's a good man Ned, a better man than I. But I fear he's too young, especially if he is to rule in this nest of vipers. He'll need your help Ned, he'll need your advice."
"I'll do what I can Robert." Ned replied dutifully, even if internally he doubted the Crown Prince would need much help, the man was already probably a better ruler than Robert, and he wans't even King yet.
"Good Ned, and keep an eye on those damn Lannisters whilst you're at it, they already have too much influence at court!" Robert grunted out, his voice becoming weaker now. "I don't want them causing trouble for Tytan, not like they did with me."
"I will Robert, don't you worry I will." Ned replied softly, deciding for the moment that he would not burden his friend with the news of his wife's treachery. Not when the King was on his deathbed, no instead he would move quickly, inform Tytan of what was going on, and do so in a public manner so Cersei could not hide it. The sooner that venomous woman was away from Tytan and the throne the better, he could only hope Tytan wouldn't react badly when the truth was revealed.
"Now go Ned, bring me my son. I would see Tytan one last time before I pass." Robert muttered, waving Ned away as he did so.
Ned nodded as he heard that before he made to leave so he could find Tytan, patting Robert once on the shoulder in farewell as he did so, before without another he swept out of the room. Allowing Pycelle, Barristan Selmy and Cersei to once again enter the room, though only after he told the old Maester to give Robert some milk of the poppy to ease his pain.
( - )
(With Tytan a minute or so later)
It was about twenty minutes since the servant had informed him of his father's condition that Tytan, now clad in simple yet clean clothing along with a pair of leather boots and his Valyrian steel sword sheathed at his hip, marched through the halls of the Red Keep, his personal guard following after him in formation as he headed towards the room his father had been taken to.
It was as he was approaching the room that he saw Renly, Loras Tyrell and Ned Stark all waiting outside, with Ned looking like he had only just left Robert's chambers, only for him to have been immediately confronted by Renly and Loras.
"My Lords, Ser Loras." Tytan said loudly, getting their attention as he approached, noticing as he did so the reactions of the other men, both Loras and Renly suddenly looking both nervous and uncomfortable as they saw Tytan and his guards approaching. Ned meanwhile sent him a strange look, one Tytan couldn't' quite read, before he looked suspiciously over at Jamie, who as always was walking just to the side and behind Tytan.
"Nephew you're here!" Renly said moving over to embrace Tytan as he did so, something that the Prince allowed for the moment. "It is terrible news about your father, I mean we were hunting and he was drinking, you know how Robert could be, and there was a boar" Renly continued, rambling slightly as he tried to explain how the King had come to be in this condition, his eyes flitting nervously about as he did so.
"I see." Tytan replied calmly, before he looked to Ned. "You should probably head inside Lord Stark, my father would likely want to see you before he passes."
"I have already been in to see your father, he does not have much time left in this world, and he would want to see you before the end." Lord Stark replied softly, his expression turning grim as he did so.
"I will be in momentarily." Tytan said in response, giving Stark a curt nod as he did so. Noting as he did that Ned was likely one of the few people who were actually torn up over Robert's impending death, after all the King was Stark's friend, his friend who knew Robert in his prime, and had not come to know the fat, selfish slob of a man he had become.
"As you say my Prince, though you should not wait long." Ned replied with a nod, before he looked between the three of them, giving a brief nod to both Renly and Loras a she did so before he made to leave. "My Lords, my Prince."
"Lord Stark." Tytan muttered with a nod, both Renly and Loras copying him, even if the two of them did so reluctantly, likely somewhat dissatisfied that Ned had left before they could properly speak with him.
"Nephew…" Renly began again his eyes now on Tytan, only to be cut off by the Prince, who upon seeing Ned's disappearing down the corridor turned to look at his Uncle, his sea green eyes sharpening.
"I don't want your condolences right now Uncle." Tytan said, his tone suddenly sharp and biting. "Instead I will take your pledge of fealty, here and now."
"Surely there will be time for that later." Renly replied, shifting uncomfortably as he did so.
"There is time for it now, my father is on his deathbed and I am the one who will be succeeding him. As such I want you both to bend the knee." Tytan replied, his voice hard and his hand coming to rest lazily on the hilt of the sword he had strapped to his waist. He had never trusted his Uncle, he was a fool of a man and far too ambitious for Tytan's liking, which when combined with his Lordship of the Stormlands and his close connections to the Tyrells made him dangerous. Especially now when the Kingdom was unstable due to the King's condition.
"Of course." Renly said, his tone coming out reluctant as he noticed the guardsmen behind his nephew shifting around, and the skilled and deadly Prince resting his hand on his sword. Seeing this Renly fell down onto one knee before Tytan, Loras copying him as he did so, his survival instincts overtaking his courage at the moment, even if he doubted his nephew would so blatantly shed blood in the halls of the Red Keep.
"I pledge my loyalty and that of my House to you, King Tytan Baratheon." Renly said, his tone still reluctant as Loras quickly copied him once more.
"Good, now stand Uncle." Tytan said a forced smile on his face as the two men in front of him stood up, their eyes flicking over to the guardsmen behind the soon to be King once again as they did so. "In return for your loyalty Uncle I will allow you to retain your seat on the Small Council."
"My gratitude-" Renly began obsequiously, only to be cut off before he could.
"I will also provide you with an heir for the Stormlands, my younger brother, Tommen, after all considering your proclivities…." Tytan spoke up his tone uncompromising as his gaze shifted to Loras as he spoke, before his gaze went back to the Baratheon Lord. "I doubt you will have of your own, and since Tommen is of Baratheon blood, I think he will do an admirable job. I will send him over with a detachment of soldiers when I'm crowned, and a Maester to so he can be trained up for the role. Of course if you do ever have sons, well I am sure we can deal with that if it ever happens…."
"You honour me." Renly bit out, before once again bowed to Tytan.
"I do." Tytan replied with fake kindness, before his gaze turned to Loras. "And you Ser Loras, you will write to your grandmother and tell her that I will honour the betrothal to Margery Tyrell my father spoke of before, and make her my Queen, in return of course for the undying loyalty of House Tyrell. In fact I may even appoint a member of House Tyrell to the Small Council, though I can discuss that with your father and grandmother later."
Loras's eyes widened as he heard that, before he once again bowed low. "I will pass it on as you command, your Grace."
"Good, make sure you do." Tytan replied with a nod, before he looked at the pair his eyes narrowing as he did so. "Now then you may go, as I need to see my father."
"Your Grace." Renly muttered with another bow, before he turned to leave.
"Though I am afraid you won't be able to leave the Capital, Uncle, not until I have been crowned King and have had your official pledge of fealty in front of the entire Court." Tytan added on, noticing as he did how Renly stiffened as he heard that.
"As you say, nephew." Renly muttered in reply before he left.
"Jamie." Tytan said as he watched Renly and Loras leave. "Send word to Beric Dondarrion, I want all of my Goldcloaks on the streets in fully armed and armoured. On top of that I want the entire city locked down as soon as possible, nobody is to leave, not unless I give the word."
"I will see to it immediately." Jamie replied with a nod of his head, before he turned and marched away.
Tytan nodded at that, before he glanced over at Ivar. "If Renly tries to leave the Captial I want you to make sure he never sees another sun rise."
Ivar grinned as he heard that. "You can rely on me."
"I know, which is why I want you to see to it that a few other problems of mine are taken care of, after all now I am to be King their usefulness has come to an end." Tytan added on, knowing as he did so that what he was planning was ruthless, unfortunately though for the good of the realm he could not allow anything to stand in his way, not now, not when things were so potentially precarious.
With that said Tytan gave his men a few more orders before dismissing all but two of them to go about their allotted tasks. Knowing as he did so that he might be acting a bit paranoid, then again after centuries in Tartarus and years in King's Landing Tytan had learned that sometimes paranoia could save you a lot of trouble in the future.
With that said Tytan turned and went into his father's chambers, leaving his remaining guardsmen outside to guard the doors as he did so.
( - )
(Inside the King's Chambers)
Quietly entering the King's chamber, Tytan gave his mother a single nod of greeting before he turned his full attention to where his 'father' lay dying.
Looking down at the man, Tytan was surprised to find that he didn't feel a thing, neither grief at the fat man's passing, or pleasure. Instead he felt nothing as he heard Robert's rattling breaths, and saw his pale, sweaty face and the blood seeping out of his wounds and staining the bed spread around him.
"You look like shit." Tytan said bluntly, as he grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the side of his father's bed, taking a seat as he continued to gaze dispassionately down at the man.
Robert let out a weak chuckle as he heard that.
Tilting his head to the side curiously as he heard the man's raspy laughter, Tytan gave Robert an odd look. Death, it was something Tytan had long since become curious about, after all it was one thing he had never truly experienced. Sure he had walked through the underworld and seen the lost souls that roamed about in the Field of Asphodel, lost and unaware of anything, as well as those who were tortured in the Fields of Punishment for their crimes in life. But that was back on Earth, death here for all he knew could be completely different.
They had gods here, but were they true gods in the sense that Tytan thought of them, or were they merely made up by the population in the hopes of giving meaning to their meaningless existence. Personally Tytan liked to think that they were real, though as of yet he had seen no proof of that.
"Are you scared?" Tytan asked, his green eyes locked onto Robert's blue ones.
"Of death?" Robert replied, his brow furrowing before he let out another chuckle. "That's a pretty grim question?"
"And that's not an answer." Tytan responded softly.
"Then yes, I am." Robert finally replied, uncaring now as he just spoke his mind. "I'm shitting myself about what is to come."
Tytan nodded as he heard that.
"It's stupid really, I mean I've killed hundreds of men, maybe even thousands. Yet when I think about my death, well, I fear what will happen when the Strangler takes me, I've hardly been the best of men after all." Robert continued on, his brow furrowed.
Tytan shrugged at that. "What will be, will be."
"Comforting words." Robert responded dryly, an amused look on his pale face.
Tytan shrugged at that.
"Look, Tytan." Robert continued, his breathing growing softer as he felt himself beginning to pass. "I never really did right by you when you were growing up, I wasn't the father you or your brothers and sister deserved. But despite that you turned out well, very well, and soon enough you'll be the King, and I believe you'll be a great one, son." Robert muttered, his voice becoming quieter and quieter as he reached out with one of his hands, clawing at the air near Tytan as he did so.
Seeing this Tytan reached out and took his father's hand, feeling it weakly grasp his for a moment, before with one last great sigh the King passed away, his hand falling limply at the side of his bed.
"The King is dead." Pycelle rasped out as he shuffled over to the King's side, checking for a pulse as he did so, before when he couldn't find one he looked at Tytan. "Long live the King."
( - )
AN: So Robert has finally dead and Tytan is on the way to becoming King, expect a lot of stuff to happen. We also caught up with the Targaryens and have seen how everything has gone to hell on that end to. Also now we are seeing even more deviation from canon as a strong heir to the throne shows his claws.
Suffice to say there is a lot of stuff to come, all of which I am looking forward to.
Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter and that you leave a review, and as always if you have any questions then feel free to PM me and I will get back to you as soon as I can.
Thanks for reading and I'll see you all later.
Greed720.