AN: Hey everyone, just want to say thanks for the massive support the last chapter received, and I hope you all enjoy this one too.

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.

( - )

(Last Time)

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."

( - )

Chapter 14

( - )

(In Winterfell)

It was late in night, and inside the keep at Winterfell the young Brandon Stark was tossing and turning in his bed, his brow covered with sweat as he shifted around uncomfortably, breathing heavily as on this night, like many others before, the boy was being plagued by dreams, vivid dreams of strange things.

At present the boy was afflicted with one recurring nightmare in particular.

In this nightmare he saw a large, antlered stag striding majestically through a dark forest, as if it was the King of its own domain. Only the stag wasn't alone in the forest, because as it strode through its domain, it was attacked by a golden lion which leapt on it from behind, capturing its throat between its jaws and bringing it to the ground. From there the lion quickly ripped the stag's throat out, after which it began to gorge on its meat, the stag's blood stained the lion's jaws as it ripped into its underbelly, rapidly consuming it.

As the lion was eating though, Bran then saw wolf stalking up quietly behind it, before lunging for the lion and snapping at its hind legs, trying to drive the lion of or kill it. The lion though was unbothered by this, as it instead just beat the wolf away, and returned to its feast, now nearly done consuming the carcass.

Only for it to then be interrupted by the roar of a dragon overhead, who upon seeing the bloody melee below, had decided to descend into the forest so it too could also feast on the now dead stag. Its presence scaring both the lion and wolf away from the stag's carcass, only for them to later put away their previous grievances and work together to drive off the dragon.

What happened next though was the very strange bit, or at least stranger than the rest of the dream, because soon after this the lion changed shape, its claws retracting and body shifting until in its stead there was a mighty black horse, one which charged at the dragon and forced it to fly away, it hooves shaking the earth as it charged, and its passing causing the winds to blow faster through the forest as a storm built up overhead.

There were of course other things going on his dream, a large squid crawling from a water course onto the land, a small stag enshrouded in fire running hither and thither through the forest at random helping and hindering all parties, even as a cold chill began to spread through the forest, tree trunks cracking and the ground slowly becoming covered in a thin layer of frost. As well as that there was the three eyed crow which seemed to fly above it all, watching but never interfering. That being said though, the fight over the stag's carcass was the most prominent part of his dream.

Sitting up suddenly in bed, Bran began to pant loudly as he awoke, his head throbbing as he once again woke up from his dreams, and once again all he could feel was fear and confusion as he tried to work out what they meant and why they kept assaulting him.

( - )

(In King's Landing)

The bells tolled long and loud over city of King's Landing that day, alerting all present to the fact that something had happened, something bad. Of course just what that was became quite clear when rumours began to circulate down from the Red Keep, that King Robert Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, was dead, killed by a boar of all things whilst he was out on the hunt.

Upon hearing this the reaction from the people of King's Landing had been mixed to say the least, Robert after all hadn't been a popular King, more often than not he left the running of the Kingdom to other men whilst he whored and drank himself to an early grave. Despite that though there was still an air of sadness lingering around King's Landing that day, yet at the same time there was an undercurrent of excitement.

After all with the death of King Robert, that meant that his heir the Crown Prince, Tytan Baratheon, would soon become the new King of the Seven Kingdoms. Which for many was seen as a good thing, after all the Prince was supposedly blessed by the gods, and had long since won himself a place in the hearts of the people with his victories in tournaments and whilst fulfilling the duties of the King in Robert's stead.

As for the Prince himself, he was currently stood in the Sept of Baelor, a cavernous room that was a place of worship for the Seven Divines, the most predominant religion in the south of Westeros. Tytan though wasn't here to pray, in fact he had never prayed to either the old gods or the new, nor even to the Olympian Gods from his first life, not since he had first awoken in this world.

No, instead Tytan was in the Sept to watch as his father's body was cleaned and placed on an altar in the centre of the Sept, two stones, painted with the likeness of eyes, place on his closed sockets.

Glancing around the room Tytan gave the body of his father one last look, before he moved away, walking quietly along the side of the room until he came to a stop next to his mother, Cersei. The woman in question having just arrived in the Sept wearing a black dress, which only seemed to emphasis the currently pallid colour of her skin, as she glanced once at Robert's body before she looked to Tytan.

"Mother." Tytan muttered as he came to stand next to her, his gaze moving over to the golden haired woman, noticing as he did so the tenseness of her posture and the paleness of her skin.

The woman was stressed, Tytan could see that instantly, though considering the relationship he knew she had with his father, he was pretty positive that it wasn't over Robert or his demise, or at least not directly.

"Tytan." Cersei replied softly, shifting slightly so she was leaning against him, one of her arms gently looping through his as she clung onto his heavily muscled right arm.

"What's happened?" Tytan asked, getting straight to the point, as he looked down at Cersei, meeting her emerald green eyes with his own sea green ones.

"We need to talk." Cersei muttered back, her gaze flicking back around the Sept where she could see a number of other nobles dotted around the room, whilst priests hummed out their prayers and waved around incense.

Tytan nodded at that, before after another look at his father's now pale corpse, he turned away, not looking back as he instead guided his mother out of the Sept, his Uncle and two of his guardsmen, Ubba and Arthur, falling into formation around him. The Queen's own Kingsguard trailing behind them, keeping a bit of space between them and the Prince's men, after all they knew who the former King would favour, and weren't sure how they should be acting.

Guiding Cersei through King's Landing, the group quickly came to one of the gated gardens that were dotted around the Red Keep, the guardsmen and Kingsguard all moving to take up protective positons around the garden's entrance. Whilst Tytan and his mother entered, Jamie following closely after them his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword as his eyes occasionally surveyed his surroundings, though mostly focused on his sister and Nephew.

"So do you want to tell me what it is that has you so worried?" Tytan asked softly, walking arm in arm with his mother as they passed through the beautiful garden, Tytan being reminded as he saw the flowers, that Margery Tyrell would likely be coming to the Capital soon, after all he'd promised her grandmother, Olenna, that he would make the girl his Queen.

Ignorant of Tytan's thoughts, Cersei didn't reply at first, instead she just held Tytan a bit tighter, as if she were afraid of losing him. After about a minute though, she eventually sighed, looking to Tytan as she did so. "There is no easy way for me to broach this subject."

"Then just come out and say it then." Tytan replied, a part of him already suspecting what it was she might want to tell him, after all there was only one secret Cersei had that could cause her to act like she was, or at least Tytan knew of only one secret.

"There was a secret that I've been keeping for many years now, one which involves your younger siblings." Cersei began, coming to a stop in the garden as she turned to face Tytan, a look of extreme discomfort spreading across her face now. "It was a secret that if it came out, would endanger all of us."

Tytan cocked an eyebrow at that, he knew his mother was beating around the bush, and he wasn't going to let her. "Are you taking about the fact that Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen are all illegitimate? Or is it that for the past decade and a half, probably even longer, that you've been having a sexual and romantic relationship with your twin brother?"

Yeah, Tytan wasn't the kind of guy who liked beating around the bush, if there was something that needed to be said, he would say it.

Both Cersei and Jamie froze as they heard that. Cersei's eyes widening and instantly flickering around the garden, searching for anybody nearby who might have heard what Tytan had so bluntly just said, as she did so she also tried to comprehend just what her son had said, and how he had already known what her secret was before she'd told him.

Jamie meanwhile took a step backwards, his expression becoming tense and his hand resting defensively on the hilt of his sword as he gave his Nephew a nervous, maybe even scared look, as if he was scared of how Tytan might react, be it with violence or another way. Not that Jamie thought he'd have much of a chance defending himself if Tytan did just to lash out.

"Relax, there is no one within hearing distance, I've already checked." Tytan spoke up drily, after all he'd already strained his powers to spread his senses through the moisture in the air, using his water based abilities to feel for the tell-tale vibrations that would be present if someone was nearby.

Cersei relaxed minutely at that, though now her green eyes were locked fearfully on her eldest son, her expression aghast as she realised that he already knew their secret and now waited for the inevitable reaction.

"Nor am I going to run you through Jamie, not unless you give me reason too." Tytan then continued, his bored gaze moving to Jamie, who just flinched when he heard what the Prince said, his hand immediately leaving the hilt of his sword.

"You know?" Cersei whispered hoarsely.

"Neither of you are as subtle as you think you are." Tytan replied with a shrug, not at all bothered by their affair, after all he was a Demigod, and the gods were almost ridiculously incestuous.

In fact at Camp Half Blood, before he and Annabeth had gotten together, Percy had had a few short relationships/ flings with one or two other girls there, most of whom had been his cousins. Though it could be argued that technically since the gods don't have DNA that that was different, Tytan didn't think that way though neither did a lot of the Demigods, instead they just found it was best to just carry on as they were and not to think about it. Plus after a few centuries in Tartarus, and the one or two flings he had with the monstrous inhabitants that dwelled there, he really no longer cared about taboos anymore.

"And… and you aren't bothered?" Cersei whispered in confusion.

"The heart is a fickle thing, we don't get to choose who we love." Tytan replied with a shrug, before he looked between the two of them. "Though I would prefer you be more discrete, the last thing we need is someone else getting word of your… liaisons."

Both Cersei and Jamie shared a look at that, Cersei's expression once again becoming discomforted, even as Jamie ran a hand through his hair nervously, his eyes flicking away from Tytan nervously as he did so.

"What's happened?" Tytan asked, his tone hardening, along with his expression. In this moment more than ever before, Tytan felt his age, as despite Cersei being his mother he felt like the adult right now, an adult who was about to lecture his child for doing something very stupid.

Cersei looked up at him as she heard that, biting her lip nervously, before she shared a look with Jamie. "Someone has already found out, about everything…"

( - )

(The Throne Room a few hours later)

Tytan drummed his fingers impatiently on the arm of the Iron Throne as he sat upon it, his sea green eyes showing his growing irritation as he looked over at the rest of the throne room, taking in the hundred or so nobles, both minor and major that were in attendance, including Loras Tyrell and nobles from the Riverlands, the Westerlands, the Crownlands, the Reach, and even a couple of nobles from Dorne and the North.

Most of them were all of the men and women of standing that were in the Capital before Tytan had the city locked down, though a few had arrived since, with Tytan's guardsman, Matthias, having started allowing vetted people in and out of the city to ensure trade remained as frictionless as possible, as well as so other nobles could come to the city and their pledge fealty to the new King. Despite that though getting out of the city at the moment was still tricky, especially if you were noble or if there were more than a dozen of you.

Holding back an irritated sigh, Tytan instead continued to survey the room, seeing that his mother and the members of his Small Council, save for Ned Stark, were dutifully standing to one side of the throne, with the Kingsguard standing in front of the throne's dais.

As well as that he could see fifty or so of his Goldcloaks lining the sides of the throne room, all of them wearing their distinctive gold coloured armour and chainmail, and carrying either spears, or resting their hands on sheathed swords.

"Introducing Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and Hand of the King." A servant suddenly announced, throwing the doors open as he did so and revealing the grim looking Ned Stark walking into the room, the man in question wearing his usual black and grey leathers, with a half dozen or so fully armed and armoured Stark guardsmen marching behind him.

Leaning forward in his throne as he saw this, Tytan cast an irritated glance over at his solemn looking mother before he looked back to Ned Stark, watching as the crowd parted, allowing the man and his guards to march up to the front of the throne. After which the man proceeded to fall onto on knee before Tytan, his guards acting similarly.

"Rise." Tytan said, gesturing for the man to stand as he did so.

"My King." Ned muttered, knowing as he did so that even though the man in front of him hadn't been coronated yet, that he was Robert's trueborn heir, as well as the true King of the Seven Kingdoms, despite the technicality. With this being something nearly everyone else had also acknowledged.

"So my Lord Stark, I take it that you are here to pledge your fealty?" Tytan asked calmly, looking more than kingly at the moment as he sat back in his throne. The future King currently wearing a beautifully crafted black jerkin with golden embroidery showing a lion on one side of his chest and a stag on the other, as well as fine black breeches and boots, with his sword and dagger belted around his waist and arranged so they didn't get in the way whilst he was sat down.

To finish off the look, he also had a golden, antler themed crown perched on his short black hair, with Tytan pulling off the crown far better than his father ever did.

"I did my King, though first there is something I would like to say. Something I believe you need to be made aware of now, in public, before it can be hidden away and potential threaten the integrity of your reign and throw the Crown and the Kingdom into disarray and disrepute." Ned then spoke up with a tone of finality, a look of firm resolve on his face as he met Tytan's hard green eyes with his stoic grey ones. He had chosen the path he would follow, and would not be swayed from it, for the good of the realm, and for his promise to his now deceased friend, he had no choice.

"Very well, perhaps we can adjourn to another room for now so that you can tell me what it is you have to say in private." Tytan said, giving the man a chance right now, for the sake of his children if not for the man himself, after all what was said to Tytan in private he could deal with quietly and hopefully painlessly. If it was said in public though, his response would have to be swift and strong, otherwise he could set a dangerous precedent, and might be seen as a weak King.

Ned frowned as he heard that, before he shook his head. "As I said before your Majesty, this needs to be said here and now in the open, after all it concerns both your mother and your siblings, and for the good of the realm and the integrity of the Royal Household it needs to be addressed."

Tytan grimaced as he heard that, his sea green eyes roving over the assembled nobles and guardsmen, before they landed back on Ned. The man had left him with no choice. "Very well then Lord Stark, air your concerns?"

Ned took a deep breath at that, before he spoke. "Jon Arryn, the former Hand of the King, was murdered, murdered by Queen Cersei, or on her behalf. Along with that I believe she also conspired to murder your father, Robert. All so she could maintain a secret, a dangerous secret that threatens the stability of your rule, the secret being that her three youngest children, Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella are all not only illegitimate, but also born of the incest between Cersei and her brother Jamie Lannister!"

As Ned finished speaking the throne room was quiet for a moment, before it erupted into noise, nobles shouting and swearing, some of them shouting Ned down, whilst other threw accusations Cersei and Jamie's way. For a few minutes nothing could be heard in the throne room above the shouting.

Though reactions could be seen, as a look of outrage spread across Cersei's face, with Pycelle looking similarly shocked and outraged, though for his part the old Maester's reaction was genuine. The other members of the reactions of the other Small Council members were more muted, as Varys merely looked on with an expression of mild surprise, though that might be more because of the boldness of Ned Stark's actions. Renly however just looked silently stunned, his eyes flicking from Ned Stark to Tytan in confusion.

Baelish meanwhile merely smirked, his weasel like face contorting in satisfaction as he looked up at Tytan hoping to see the soon to be King's reaction. Only to be disappointed, as instead of outrage, shock or horror, the King just gave Ned a cold searching look.

"Silence!" Tytan commanded, his voice loud and his hand raised as he did so, his Goldcloaks all slamming their spears on the ground to emphasis his order.

Moments later the throne room down quietened down, there only being a low level mumbling and grumbling as the many people present listened in, all of them wondering what the King's response to the outrageous claims would be.

As for Ned he just looked on stoically, now resigned to follow through with his decision, as there was no taking it back now.

"A bold accusation Lord Stark, very bold." Tytan said, his voice sounding out loudly and confidently throughout the large throne room. "And you'd better have some very compelling evidence for it, otherwise I will have no choice but to consider this an attack on the Royal family and the Crown, as well as an act of treason!?"

The mumbling intensified at that, all of them looking to Ned now, seeing if he could back up his claims. Especially since they all knew that the punishment for treason would either be a beheading or getting sent to the Wall.

"As you say my King." Ned's expression turned grim at that, even as his grey eyes moved away from Tytan and instead over to Varys, searching for support only to be given a blank faced look from the other man in response.

"Then state your proof Lord Stark?" Tytan said bluntly, his expression uncompromising as his gaze locked on Ned. "Jon Arryn was an old man, who was struck by a fever and died of natural causes, Grand Maester Pycelle was the man who treated him and can attest to that?"

The old Maester nodded along when he heard that.

"So why do you think he was murdered?" Tytan then continued expectantly.

"Before his sudden death, Jon Arryn had been doing some investigating. He'd tracked down a number of your father's illegitimate children and had borrowed a book on the genealogy of the noble families from Grand Maester Pycelle. In doing so he had come across the Queen's secret when he found that Baratheon traits like blue eyes and black hair always bred true, even in the historic liaisons between Lannisters of the past and Baratheons. From this he came to a conclusion, that your younger siblings, all of whom have golden hair, green eyes and thin builds could not have been Robert's children. From there it was only a matter of confirming who their father was, with the Queen herself admitting to me that it was in fact Jamie Lannister, her brother." Ned spoke up, his mind whirling as he tried to put together everything he had found out in to an argument that would convince the King. "With the Queen killing Jon Aaryn after he she found out about his investigations, and later conspiring to kill her husband after I confronted her with the truth and told her that I would be going to him with it upon his return from his hunt."

The onlookers continued to mutter as they heard that, even as Tytan gave Ned an unimpressed look.

"That's it? Is that all the evidence you have Lord Stark?" Tytan asked incredulous, making his feeling known to the crowd, all of whom seemed to reciprocate his feelings, or at least mimic them.

"My King…" Ned began again, his brow furrowing as he tried to speak again, only to be cut off by Tytan.

"Your evidence is flimsy and insubstantial at best. A book of genealogy can only prove so much, just look at me, I have green eyes and black hair yet can any here deny that I am my father's son?" Tytan demanded only to get silence from his question, after all Tytan practically looked like a younger version of his father. That could not be denied.

"And then just look at your own children Lord Stark; Robb, Sansa and Rickon, they all have the auburn hair, facial features and blue eyes of House Tully. Your other daughter Arya, and your bastard so Jon however have the grey eyes, facial features and dark hair of House Stark. Using your logic does that therefore mean that nearly all of your children are illegitimate, and that they should all carry the name Snow?!" Tytan demanded, his expression turning angry now as he thought on the fate his siblings would have suffered if Ned had told Robert, that is if Tytan didn't kill his father first.

Once again the crowd reacted to this, muttering about the King's words, as they all looked to the now visibly shocked Ned Stark.

"My younger siblings are all legitimate, of that I have no doubt. As for my parents' marriage, well it might have been loveless, but my mother has remained true." Tytan replied, lying through his teeth as he did so, but doing so convincingly. Plus he was the King, which meant in an autocratic society, that what he said happened, happened.

"On top of that my father died after getting gored by a boar, Ser Barristan Selmy can attest to that, and I doubt there is anyone here who can deny Ser Barristan's honour and integrity, and he was there at the time of my father's death!" Tytan continued, his gaze looking to the white haired commander of the Kingsguard as he did so.

"The King speaks true, King Robert's death was a tragic accident. There was no foul play that I could see." Barristan spoke up, his tone low and slow as he sent Ned and oddly disappointed look.

"As for Jon Arryn, well the fever took him, unless you have a better explanation?" Tytan demanded, now laying into Ned Stark as he ruthlessly tore apart the man's evidence. That being said, he felt no real pleasure in doing so, the man might be an ass, but he was an honest one, Tytan could respect that if nothing else.

"The Tears of Lys, a bottle went missing from Pycelle's stores, and Lord Varys told me that they had been used on Jon Arryn!" Ned defended, once again looking to Varys for support, only for the man to give him an emotionless look before he turned to the King and bowed.

"I had no such conversation with Lord Stark, my King." Varys said with a subservient bow, much to Ned's growing shock, anger and fear.

Tytan nodded at that, before he looked back to Ned. "And so now you claim that a rare and undetectable poison was used to kill the former Hand, with nothing more than circumstantial evidence to back up your assertion? In fact it seems to me like there would be no point in using poison at all if you wanted to kill the man, not when you could have suffocated him in his sleep, which many would have assumed was nothing more than an old man dying in his sleep!"

Ned opened his mouth at that, but no sound came out as he now realised the direction things were headed, his gaze moving from the King to the now hostile crowd of watching nobles, many of whom had started to mumble to each other, their sharp gazes locked on the floundering northern Lord. The snakes at Court had all sensed the blood in the air, and were now gathering together to take advantage of a wounded prey.

"But your mother admitted it to me?!" Ned tried to claim, his gaze moving to Cersei now, only to see the glint of satisfaction in her gaze as she looked down on him, a look of confusion, shock and horror on her face.

"And what evidence do you have of that? Was anyone else there? Or is this like your conversation with Varys, nothing more than a claim, one that the other person will deny ever happened?" Tytan replied bluntly, his expression now grim as he looked around the room.

"My King…" Ned tried again, only to be silenced by Tytan raising his hand.

"You have levelled treasonous accusations at my family, and have provided no substantial evidence to back these up. More than that you have done so in front of the Court." Tytan summed up grimly, once again not feeling any satisfaction at doing this, most of the things the man had said were true, but he didn't know how the game was played, on top of that he had attacked Tytan's family, and if there was one thing Tytan was, it was loyal to his loved ones.

Ned stood up straighter as he heard that, already knowing what was coming, especially now Varys had saved his own skin and betrayed Ned, throwing him to the hungry wolves.

"I have no choice Lord Stark, but to place you under arrest for the charge of treason." Tytan commanded, his expression stern now as he gestured for his guards to act. "Your daughters and household will be safely kept in King's Landing for the moment, and allowed to live in the Tower of the Hand until your trial. After which you have my word as King they will be sent back to Winterfell. On top of that your Heir Robb will be informed of what happened here, and will be invited to come down to speak on your defence if he wishes. Or if you are found guilty to pledge the fealty of House Stark as its new Lord."

Ned gave Tytan a stoic look as he heard that, even as he saw the fifty or so Goldcloaks approaching him, their hands on their weapons.

"Surrender yourself now Lord Stark, there is no need for bloodshed." Tytan spoke up, as he gestured for his men to arrest the Northern Lord.

"As you say your Majesty" Ned nodded at that, before he unbuckled his sword belt and handed it to one of his guards.

"Now take him to one of the noble's cells. I only hope that you choose to take the Black, Lord Stark, I would hate for the Kingdom to lose a man such as you." Tytan then commanded, standing up now as he did so, his expression grim as he knew he would need to send a raven to Robb quickly, explaining things before they got out of control.

( - )

(In the Godswood, sometime later)

A few hours later Tytan, still dressed in his royal regalia, save of course from the overly gaudy crown, was standing alone in the Godswood. His guards all waiting around on the outskirts of the wood, giving the King the peace and quiet he had requested.

Once again after wandering the woods for a few minutes, Tytan had found himself standing in front of the Weirwood's stump, looking down at it tiredly as he went over everything that had happened over the last two days.

After Ned Stark's arrest things had calmed down a little, though the Court were likely still muttering about it. Having that many people in the room had been a risk, but Tytan had been in the midst of getting a pledge of fealty from every House when Stark had turned up. He had wanted everyone at Court around at the time, as their presence would not only pressure reluctant people like Renly into giving the oath to him, but it would also make sure word of the pledge was spread around the Kingdom, making it even harder for those who gave them, to go back on their oaths.

Unfortunately though Ned Stark had been far bolder than Tytan had thought he would be, he hadn't been cowed by the number of people around, and had instead explicitly aired his grievances. That being said Tytan was satisfied by the way he had dealt with it, and from what he had heard Ned was teetering towards taking the Black and going up to the Wall. So that was good, Tytan would makes sure to give him that extra push.

Even so though he had already sent out ravens all over the Seven Kingdoms, getting ahead of the news before anyone else could so he could control it. After all he was a well-respected figure in Westeros, and people tended to put more faith in what they heard first. On top of that there was the propaganda Tytan had circulating the Seven realms, he had realised early on what a powerful tool propaganda could be, and had such begun using Baelish's old spy network to spread it around as far as he was able.

As well as that there was also the letter he had sent to Winterfell, in which he had explained Ned Stark's baseless accusation and put in writing promises of a fair trial, and that after this whole business was dealt with that he would send the rest of the Stark Household back to the North. Which he genuinely intended to do, as currently he had them all hold up in the Tower of the Hand, guarded by both the Stark guardsmen and Tytan's own. With all of them being free to continue going about their daily lives in safety.

He could only hope Robb accepted that and didn't do anything foolish, he couldn't afford for anything else to go wrong, not so soon into his transition to Kingship. After all if it did and he was challenged, then he would have no choice but to use a show of immense force to put down whatever it was and cement his reign, ideally though he would prefer to avoid such brutal tactics.

Letting out a sigh at that, Tytan glared angrily at the stump of wood, his brow furrowing and his hands clenching into tight fists.

He was angry at Ned Stark for putting him in this position, angry at Varys for pushing Ned in the right direction, angry at his mother and uncle for getting caught out, hell he was even angry at his father for being such a shit husband that his wife decided to cheat on him.

Gritting his teeth, Tytan was soon broken out of his thoughts when he felt the ground beneath him begin to tremble, and the leaves above rustling and the trees swaying, as in his anger he'd begun to draw on his Demigod abilities.

Tytan let out another breath of air as he realised that, calming himself down, as he remembered he'd ordered his most loyal servants to deal with a number of issues for him already. On top of which he would soon force Ned up North and to the Wall, and make peace with Robb, hopefully building stronger connections to Winterfell through their friendship. Then there was his upcoming marriage to Margery Tyrell, which would garner him the full support of the Reach. Thing weren't as bad as he made them out to be, he knew that, he just needed to vent.

It was as Tytan was thinking that, that in the trees above him a small figure prowled along one of the branches.

The figure was that of a girl, one who was both short and very lithe, with a thin but strong body, bronze coloured hair, nut brown skin and eyes like molten gold. Tilting her head curiously, the girl's inhumanly beautiful face broke into a slight smile as she looked down at the handsome, dark haired human below. It was the one from her dreams, the one she was searching for.

( - )

(Elsewhere in King's Landing)

Walking over to his open window Petyr Baelish frowned as he looked out over the hot and crowded city of King's Landing. His eyes trailing across the cramped, overpopulated city, as he heard the bells continue to ring out, still mourning the death of the old King, and announcing the upcoming reign of the new King.

Narrowing his eyes, Baelish scowled as he looked into the street and saw a squadron of eight Goldcloaks marching down the street in formation, spears in one hand and shields in the other as they patrolled the streets. This squadron was one of the many Petyr had seen out on patrol, in fact if Baelish was to guess he would assume that all five thousand plus Goldcloaks were out in full force today and would be in the days to come.

All of them patrolling on the order of Tytan, no doubt to ensure order was maintained in the city, and so that they could react instantly if something happened. It was a wise move, and one Baelish could respect, as was the idea about locking down the city. It seemed the new King so far had shown himself to be far shrewder than Robert had been, which would likely be good for the Kingdom, but bad for Baelish though.

For him it had been years since Tytan, then the Prince had taken over his holdings, using Baelish's crimes both financial and otherwise to keep him under control, or at least try to. Petyr after all had managed to continue some of his plans when the Prince was away and the guards around him were lax, mainly through using ravens.

That though had all come to an end all those months ago when Tytan had returned from Winterfell, since then Baelish had been practically under house arrest. He hadn't even been able to take a shit without someone watching him, much to his irritation.

This had also meant that he was no longer able to keep an eye on or control his ongoing plans, which meant some of them had outright failed whilst others had just gone to shit. Already he'd heard what was happening in the Vale, with Lysa Arryn, his onetime lover and erstwhile ally, having apparently lost what little grip she'd had on sanity. As without Baelish's guidance she'd thrown caution to the wind and had begun to 'quietly' build up an army in the mountains, taxing the people of the Vale and calling in her banners.

Other people may not be able to read the signs, at least not as well as him, but Baelish knew what the woman was up to. No doubt this was all some foolish plan to rescue him from King's Landing, or some other such bullshit. Either way Baelish didn't care, all he knew was that the stupid woman was cocking up his plans.

It was as Baelish was thinking those venomous thoughts, that he heard the door to his chambers open, no doubt it was one the servants with his lunch.

"Leave the food and wine on the table, and then go." Baelish bit out coldly, not even bothering to turn around, this though was mainly because he didn't want to see those damn smirks his old servants and whores had when they saw he was a prisoner in his own house. The very sight of them sickened him and made him want to lash out in rage, as they brought back memories of his youth and how he'd been looked down on and sneered at back then.

Baelish let out another sigh as he heard the door close, his mood darkening as he turned around, only for him to gasp in surprise when he felt something cold and sharp hit him in the chest.

"Urrk." Baelish gurgled, his eyes wide as he looked down only to see the hilt of a dagger resting against his chest, around the place his heart would be, a river of blood rapidly running down from the wound staining his fine clothes crimson as it did so.

Looking up Baelish saw the slyly grinning face of a skinny blonde man, one who was wearing Lannister armour.

"Tytan sends his regards." Ivar chuckled, before he twisted the dagger and wrenched it out of Littlefinger's chest, allowing the man to fall to the ground, a pool of blood rapidly expanding around him, even as his empty eyes stared straight ahead, no longer seeing anything.

( - )

(Elsewhere in King's Landing)

Shuffling around his chambers, Grand Maester Pycelle had a slight skip in his step today, as he pulled off his the chain denoting his seniority as a Maester, before he began to struggle with his thick black robes.

It was quite an exciting time for him, as King Robert was dead, one in a long line of King's Pycelle had served 'loyally', and his son, the honourable and blessed Tytan would soon be crowned, and Pycelle would be the one to guide him and reap all the benefits such a position would grant him. Lord Tywin had said as such after all.

Pycelle smiled to himself at that thought, pleased once more that he'd chosen the right side when he'd joined Tywin Lannister all those years ago, and let him into the city of King's Landing, practically ensuring Aerys Targaryen's death, and the fall of the Targaryen dynasty.

Humming to himself happily, Pycelle was caught by surprise when he heard a knock on his door.

Pausing in his attempts to disrobe himself, Pycelle shuffled over to the door before he opened it. A smile once again coming to his face when he saw the young, scantily clad girl waiting for him.

"You're early." Pycelle chuckled, before he waved the whore in, not at all displeased by the girl coming a little earlier than he'd expected. In fact he was quite pleased as he turned around and shuffled towards his bed, pulling off his robes once more as he did so.

"I'm sorry…" The whore said quietly from behind him.

"Not to worry girl, you won't hear me complaining." Pycelle chuckled lecherously as he finally succeeded in pulling off his robes, leaving the old man all but naked as he turned back to the young girl.

"Hn." Pycelle suddenly grunted, a look of surprise passing across his face, before with a slight gasp blood sprayed out of his mouth, staining his white beard red. Looking down Pycelle could only stare in horror at the blade protruding from his chest, before gazing up at the young whore in front of him, a look of fear, pain and confusion on his face.

"I'm afraid the King no longer requires your services." The girl then continued, her lips curving up into a smile as she wrenched the knife out of his chest, allowing him to fall back to the ground, a pained groan leaving his mouth as he died in a growing pool of his own blood.

Ignoring this, the girl instead stepped over the Pycelle's bloody body and instead began to rummage around his belonging, looking for anything valuable she could take before she returned back to brothel, knowing as she did so that she had a heavy purse of coins waiting for her when she did so.

( - )

(Elsewhere in King's Landing)

Scurrying through the dark halls in the dungeons of King's Landing, Lord Varys, the Master of Whispers, didn't pause for a moment as he pulled a dirty brown, travelling cloak tightly around him, its hood pulled up as he skipped passed the corridor where he knew Ned Stark was being kept, and instead headed further down, beneath the dungeons and into the vaults below.

A place where he knew the old dragon skulls that had once adorned the throne room during the time of the Targaryen Kings were kept, with King Robert having ordered them all torn down and left to be forgotten and gather dust after he had ascended to the throne.

Despite that though Varys knew that people often came down here, after both children and adults alike enjoyed coming down here so they could gawp at the massive skulls. The largest of which, the one belonging to the long dead Balerion the Dread, was big enough that a full grown man could easily walk through his jaws. In fact Varys knew that Tytan himself had been down here before, harvesting the bones for the hilt of his sword and his shield.

It was for this reason that Varys was making as much haste as he could as he hurried into the vaults, looking for the small secret passage he knew led out of the keep and onto the shore. More specifically it led to an isolated cove, one on which Varys currently had boat waiting for him, as well as a handsomely paid smuggler waiting to take him far away from King's Landing, to another port further down the coast where he could hopefully find passage to Essos and his allies there.

The reason for this of course was that mess in the throne room, Ned Stark for all of his honour could be a damn, blundering fool sometimes. His foolish performance back there had not only gotten himself imprisoned, it had also got Varys into Tytan's bad graces. Hence why Varys was fleeing the Capital, after all he didn't want that foul, magic using Prince coming after him.

Varys grimaced at that thought, blessed by the gods, what a ridiculous pile of tripe. The boy was no more blessed by the gods then Varys was, no instead he could use magic plain and simple, just like the Red Priests in Essos or the Sorcerers in Qarth could. Sure his abilities were more defined but Varys recognised it. How could he not, after all he'd once been the slave of a mage, a slave that was later mutilated and cast away.

With that thought in mind, Varys increased his pace, only for him to run into a pair of armoured guards waiting just within the secret passage, both of them seizing him by the arms as he automatically tried to pull away, his pale face twisting into a rictus of fear as he saw their armour.

"Lord Varys." One of the men said, Varys recognising him in an instant as Martin, one of Tytan's guardsmen. "You should know the not to trust smugglers, especially when they know a King can offer a much greater reward than a traitor."

Varys wasn't given the opportunity to reply, as moments later he was struck from the side and knocked to the ground.

( - )

AN: So damn, a lot of stuff happened in this chapter eh? I think we can well and truly say goodbye to canon now!

So anyway what did you all think? Hope you leave a review and stay tuned for the next chapter. That being said my next story I'll be updating will be my PJ/Avatar story, 'Carry on My Wayward Son', which I will hopefully get out by tomorrow!

Thanks for reading, see you later.

Greed720.