AN: So here is the next chapter of The Last King, I hope you all enjoy it, I wouldn't say it turned out exactly like I had planned, but I am happy with it otherwise.

So yeah other than that I hope you all continue to review, favourite and follow, I am hoping to break two thousand favourites soon.

Thanks for all the support, I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do now own Percy Jackson or Game of Thrones.

( - )

(Last Time)

"What do you want?" Viserys asked again, the fatigue in his voice clear to hear now.

In response Ivar let the skin from his apple fall to the ground, before he then took a bite of it, absentmindedly wiping his blade on his leather breeches as he did so, before he then sheathed it.

"Well…" Ivar began through a mouth of apple, sending the disgusted Viserys a grin as he did so. "I'm here to free you of course. I mean you aren't doing much good down here in the cells are you?"

Viserys shifted around as he heard that, his chains rattling loudly, and the red raw flesh of his wrists becoming more irritated as he struggled slightly. "What are you going to do with me?"

Finishing the apple, core and all, Ivar sent Viserys another wide grin. "You'll see, but trust me, it's going to be good!"

( - )

Chapter 18

( - )

(In King's Landing)

"Oi Trevor!" A grizzled looking man, with piggy brown eyes, lank grey hair and a weathered face which made his age indiscernible, shouted out, as he brought the wooden tankard in his hand to his bearded mouth and took a gulp of the ale within, a dribble of the slightly too warm drinking rolling down his chin as he did so. "You heard about what's happening up at the castle?"

Trevor, an equally rough looking man, with a badly thinning head of dirty brown hair, and a bulging stomach that flowed over the rim of his patched breeches and thick leather belt, poking out of the bottom of his filthy tunic as it did so, looked up as he heard that. His own pale, watery blue eyes narrowing as he slammed his own tankard onto the table in front of him. "No, and I don't really care what the Nobs are up to, either, Jon! Those pricks don't care about us, so why should we give a fuck what they do?"

The now named Jon rolled his eyes at that, knowing well enough just what Trevor thought of the Nobility, a thought that was shared by many of the other Commonfolk, folk who had laboured away under the command of the pampered little shits, scraping a living whilst the Nobles lived in the lap of luxury. "Yeah, but this isn't about those shits, it's about the King."

"Oh because the fact he has a crown makes a real big difference." Trevor sneered in response, before he knocked back some of his own drink as he did so, ignoring the slightly sour taste as he just tried to loose himself in the hazy feeling the alcohol gave him. "Oh go on then Jon, do tell, what's the divine arsehole done this time? Oh no let me guess, has he knocked up another whore, or been playing around with the wrong man's wife again?"

"Doubt anyone would care if he did that kind of shit anymore, considering he's the King an all." Jon replied dismissively, not caring for the usual gossip that surrounded the former Prince, most of which which praised him as a masterful swordsman, a man blessed by the Seven Divine, and who looked out for the people. Though some of the gossip also vilified him, making him out to be a self-centred waster, who whored and drank nearly as much, as his much reviled late father, squandering his gods given abilities on women and show fighting. "No I'm talking about the fact he apparently has a dragon!"

"A dragon!" Trevor laughed out loud in response, slamming his tankard on the table in front of him as he did so. "How much have you been drinking Jon!? There ain't no more dragons around anymore, they died off centuries ago, back when those Targaryen's were ruling the Kingdoms, everyone knows that you stupid clod!"

"Yeah but the King has one. I know a guy, who knows another guy who went to petition the King about summit, and he saw the King's dragon clear as day!" Jon replied, shaking his head as he remembered the story his mate's mate had told him, about how the King had had a small, green scaled, baby dragon with him.

"What a load of horseshit!" Trevor replied shaking his head and laughing again. "You'd believe anything you would! I bet you even believe that crazy Arryn bitch is about to rebel against the King to don't you, or that there is a Targaryen Prince trying to start another rebellion out in the Crownlands!?"

"That is true, the thing about Lysa Arryn that is, I know a guy, and he was telling me how all these mercenaries are flocking to the Vale, cause the Lady there is thrown her coin around, hiring as many as she can. I also heard the King is sending troops to the borders, and that the Goldcloaks have started recruiting like mad!" Jon replied quickly, scowling as his mate once again didn't believe him, noticing as he did that some of the other Commonfolk were listening on their loud conversation now, with the ratty tavern they were drinking in by the docks being quite cramped at the moment, especially with all the work going about, what with the repairs of the city walls and the building of the Royal Fleet.

Suffice to say there was a lot of coin available for those with the skills, plus there was also talk of there being more coin up north for workmen willing to dig some canal system.

"You know a guy! You know a guy! You always fucking know a guy! You're talking out of your fucking arse and you know it Jon! There ain't no way any one is stupid enough to take on the King, and that's not cause he has some magic fire breathing lizard, it's cause he is a ruthless fucker that you just don't fuck with. I mean he'd probably raze an entire city if they oppose him, innocent an all." Trevor said loudly, his thick lip curving upwards into a grin as he shook his head at the sheer ridiculousness his mate was spouting, as if anyone would dare rebel against the King. He might be a fucker, but he was a tough one, as hard as they come, and twice as ruthless.

"The King wouldn't do that, he's blessed by the Gods!" One of the other patrons of the tavern cut in, a scowl on his face as he shook his head. "He's a good and noble man! A man who fights for the people, I mean look at how he brought the Mountain to justice!"

"Oh I'm sorry have you ever met the guy!" Trevor shouted loudly, clumsily getting to his feet now, his watery eyes fixed on the speaker and watching as he shook his head. "No! I didn't think so! The King is just like every other Noble, a prick, but a lucky prick who managed to fall out of the right pair of legs. As for being blessed, that's bollocks too, I mean you must have heard about the Red bitch who were on Dragonstone, and how she claimed to be blessed by her god too, and all she did were burn people alive. The King doesn't have any magic or anything, it's just lies that is spread around to make him look powerful, nothing more!"

"No, that ain't true, I've seen him using them, I watched him create blades out of water!" Another one of the listeners spoke up.

"And I'm guessing you were pissed at the time." Trevor shot back dismissively, his expression aggressive at being challenged so publicly like this.

"I don't know, I don't see why they would lie. After all it would be pretty obvious if they were." Jon said uncertainly.

"They're Nobs, they're born to lie." Trevor replied, waving his mate away. "Just you watch, nothing will come of this Arryn thing, nor will it come of this dragon thing, or Targaryen shit. It's all just rumours coming from drunks and fools like you fuckers!"

"Oi, shush up you fools!" Another man suddenly said as he looked out of the window, before turning back to the room. "Some Goldcloaks are coming!"

Jon paled as he heard that, whilst Trevor just cursed, the rest of the denizens of the tavern having a similar reaction to the other two as things quietened down a lot, even as the door to the tavern were thrown open and a pair of men entered. Both of whom were wearing good quality, leather boots, polished scale mail hauberks, and golden coloured breastplates, pauldrons, gauntlets and capped helmets. With the pair of soldiers also carrying spears in their right hand, and a diamond shaped shield in their left, with each of them then having a sheathed sword and knife on their belts.

Entering the now quiet tavern, the two Goldcloaks, the King's watchdogs, looked around, the cramped, yet quiet room. Both of the men, who looked to be in their mid to late twenties eying the inhabitants suspiciously as they entered, their grips on their weapons tightening as the smelt the sweaty, nervous atmosphere of the tavern.

"Don't let us disturb you." One of the Goldcloaks then said as he leant his shield against the bar, and then took off his golden coloured helmet, revealing his shaved head, and rough, scarred face to the tavern as he did so. "Carry on as you were…"

An awkward silence answered that remark, as some of the denizens eyed Trevor nervously before backing away into the corners or turning away and starting stilted conversations with their neighbours, trying to avoid making eye contact with the two heavily armed Goldcloaks in the room.

Looking completely unbothered by this, the Goldcloak who spoke approached Jon and Trevor's table, with him having noticed the looks the other barflies were sending them.

Upon reaching the table though, the first thing the man did was grab Jon's half full mug of ale, which he then proceeded to drain in a single gulp, before he then spat the a mouthful of ale on the dirty straw floor. "What the fuck is this swill!?"

"Erm ale…" The tavern owner said nervously, before quietening down when he saw he had the two Goldcloak's attention, after which he then quickly scrambled forwards with two new mugs, these ones filled with much nicer ale, ale he usually only served to those who looked to have coin. "On the house."

"Good man!" The Goldcloak replied as he took one of the mugs, his fellow guardsman doing the same, before they raised their mugs in the air and called out a toast. "To the King!"

"To the King!" The inhabitants of the Tavern chorused loudly, too loudly, before everyone who had a drink, took a hasty gulp of it.

Grinning as he saw this, the Goldcloak grabbed a chair and sat down at the silent Trevor and Jon's table. "So lads, has much been happening? The pair of you look nervous."

"Not at all, we're just relaxing after a hard day at the docks." Jon replied nervously, shooting Trevor a look as he did so.

"Ermm aye, nothing more."

The Goldcloak hummed at that, before he took a sip of his ale. "Really, well that's not what I heard. Apparently someone in here was talking badly about the Crown, or at least that is what a friendly drunk told us a few minutes ago."

"No, no not at all, nothing like that!" Jon replied quickly, shaking his head as he did so, after all everyone knew of the Goldcloaks loyalty to King Tytan, as well as the way the King had reformed the City Watch. Making it so none of them would ever take a bribe, or look the other way, not if they valued their positions, or their lives that is.

On top of that the City Watch had been given more power to investigate disturbances, and deal with crimes, with them coming down like an iron fist on any violence, theft or assault in the city, and as for dissension, well it wasn't unheard of, that people who spoke badly about the Crown suddenly disappeared in the night, never to be seen again.

"Good, good." The Goldcloak nodded, his scarred face twisting into a seemingly friendly expression. "Maybe another toast to King Tytan's good health then?"

"Yeah, yeah absolutely. To King Tytan's health, the best King there ever was, and ever will be!" Jon said quickly, raising his mug as he did so.

"The very best!" Trevor added on, licking his lips nervously as he eyed the Goldcloaks up and down before joining in, sweat dripping down from his forehead as he saw the Goldcloaks nod their heads, before they joined the rest, as they drank to the King's health.

( - )

(With Daenerys in Essos)

There was a disconsolate expression on Daenerys Targaryen's face as she found herself once more staring at a funeral pyre, preparing to watch on as yet another person in her life was slowly burned to ashes in front of her.

Only instead of it being a dear friend and adviser, like Jorah had been, this time it was her husband, Khal Drogo. A mighty warrior, who had once led a Khalasar that had been nearly forty thousand strong, with him now being little more than a slab of meat, slowly burning to ash as fire ate away at him. With his only company in his journey to what lay beyond, being two petrified dragon eggs, a small wrapped up bundle, and a screaming, wailing woman, one who Daenerys had had tied to the pyre, so she would be burnt alive with Drogo.

Perhaps the worst thing about this, was that her husband, for all his might and strength as a warrior, had not been slain in battle like a Khal should have, as what was expected in their brutish culture.

But instead he had been killed through witchcraft, blood magic, and his own wife's naive stupidity. With this being made even worse by the fact that her unborn son had also been killed by this witch. Her unborn baby's life having been taken as a sacrifice, so the witch could 'heal' Drogo, only for her to heal his wounds, but destroy his mind.

With the witch responsible for all these woes, being the same one that even now shrieked and struggled as she was slowly consumed by the flames. The woman in question being someone that Daenerys had saved from the cruel brutality of the Dothraki Horde that her husband commanded, when his Khalasar had descended on her village.

Daenerys having gone out of her way to save this woman, and many others, with her even going so far as to beseech her brutish husband for leniency and mercy on behalf of these innocent people, something which had surprisingly worked..

Unfortunately though this attempt at being magnanimous had only ended in misery for Daenerys, as she found her entire life falling apart before her, all because she tried to be kind and help people. With the witch she had saved, actually justifying her actions, when she killed his son and destroying his mind all of which she did while trying to claim she was healing him of a fever, with her saying that she had done this as retribution for the Khalasar attacking the village and brutalising its populace.

Looking into the flames now, Daenerys could feel nothing but hopelessness. Her innocent, unborn child was dead, her brother had abandoned and stolen from her, Jorah her only friend and adviser was also dead, and now her husband, a man she had never particularly liked or loved, but who had been a solid feature in her life, a rock that had allowed her to continue on, was gone.

Which meant she was now cast adrift in the great wide world, alone and unloved, with barely two score people who still followed her, or were loyal to her, with the rest having all abandoned her when Drogo died. The great Khal's death having fractured the Khalasar almost immediately, as other Dothraki warriors rose up to try and take Drogo's place as leader, or other Khal's closed in and poached the now leaderless warriors.

Daenerys's mind went blank at that, her listless violet eyes staring blankly into the flames as they consumed Drogo, her unborn baby and the witch who had ruined everything.

The flames, they were almost hypnotic in a way as she looked at them, her mind drawing a blank as she began to step forward, heedless of the cries of shock and warning from her followers as she did so.

Her attention instead wholly on the fire as it continued to beckon her in, promising her a sweet release from the torment and futility that was her life and reality. After all anything would be better than the misery and despair she was feeling at the moment.

Embracing this sudden urge, Daenerys stepped into the fire, even as it gladly welcomed her, enveloping her flames and clinging to her loose, leather clothing. The crackling red and gold flames fully embracing Daenerys Targaryen, like a parent greeting its child.

In response to this, Daenerys simply closed her eyes as she felt the warmth surrounding her, her mind starting to blacken as she felt her consciousness fade, the witch, Mirri Maz Duur's, screams and shrieks acting like a sweet lullaby for the young Khaleesi, as she felt the darkness fully take over her mind now.

Even as she collapsed to the ground unconscious, aware of nothing else as the fire continued to burn merrily around her, and the witch continued to scream, for as long as her lungs held up that is, before she too eventually went silent, though for different reasons as the fire finally claimed her life.

( - )

(With Melisandre, on the Narrow Sea)

Opening her eyes Melisandre awoke suddenly with a start, her chest heaving and her eyes wide as she sat up in her bed, her silky sheets sliding off of her fit, nubile form, even as she looked into the darkness of the surrounding cabin, feeling the sweat drip down her body before it began to cool in the cold air as she did so.

Twisting to the side as she heard low, shallow breathing, Melisandre tuned and saw Stannis sleeping beside her, the grey haired, lean looking man having not awoken, despite her actions.

Reaching down to him, Melisandre gently brushed one of her hands along Stannis Baratheon's chest, even as her other hand came up to her throat, feeling the golden necklace around her throat, with the dark red ruby, one that was set into the necklace, constantly pulsing with magic as she felt it.

Feeling this, Melisandre closed her eyes, and just continued to feel the steady pulse, using it to steady her own breathing and focus her mind, as she began to think back on what she had just seen in her dreams, both what was happening in that moment, and what would be happening in the future.

With this being somewhat of a new phenomenon for her, as her powers, and precognition had been rapidly increasing in strength for many weeks now, ever since she had first seen that red comet in the sky, back on the day they had first left Dragonstone.

Opening her violet eyes again, a smile began to spread across her lips, as she thought on what she had seen. Daenerys Targaryen was alive, and she would soon be embracing her full destiny. Even now many miles away, Melisandre could almost feel the heat from the flames that the silver haired girl had just walked into. Just as she could almost feel her Lord's will at work.

Pushing herself out of her bed, the red haired woman swiftly began to dress, pulling on her red, velvet dress, and her dyed, woollen clock. Her violet eyes glimmering in the darkness, as she then reached out to a nearby lantern, and with just a touch set it alight, her power almost writhing beneath her skin, begging to be released, as she swept out of the cabin, leaving her lover to his rest for now.

Existing the cabin, and stepping out onto the deck of Stannis's flagship, Melisandre looked around as the dawn began to break on the distant horizon, her eyes trailing over the fleet of ships as they continued their journey, across the Narrow Sea and then around the coast, heading in the direction of Slaver's Bay.

"What are you doing out here Milady?" A rough voice suddenly called out, attracting Melisandre's attention as she turned away from the view of the lightening horizon, and the land mass of Essos in the distance, as she instead looked at the speaker, a grizzled, grey haired man, with trimmed beard and heavy features. The man in question wearing a slightly battered and salt stained leather jerkin and breeches, and a worn, black cloak as he looked at her.

"Davos." Melisandre acknowledged calmly, as she eyed Davos Seaworthy up and down, as ever unimpressed by this man, this non-believer, a man who she knew had advised Stannis against trusting her, and against making this voyage to begin with.

Davos nodded at that. "It's early Milady, and the winds are starting to pick up. You shouldn't be out here on deck."

"Your concern is appreciate." Melisandre nodded before she walked past him. "However you need not worry, I do not fear the winds, nor the early morning."

Davos scowled at that, sensing the slightly mocking lilt in her voice as he did so.

"How is our course, how far are we from our destination?" Melisandre then asked, her gaze shifting onto Davos again.

"We're a good week from Slaver's Bay," Davos replied gruffly, his tone telling her exactly what he thought of travelling to such an accursed place. "Though it might be easier if we actually knew where exactly we were supposed to go."

"Then you're in luck, for I have had another vision." Melisandre replied joyfully, gleeful that she no longer needed to look into the flames to see the vision's her Lord gave her, as now they naturally came to her in her sleep. That being said, she had found that if she still used the flames, they almost seemed to amplifier her powers, adding depth and clarity to her visions that they had been lacking before.

"Oh great." Davos sighed, holding back a retort on just what he thought of this witch and her religion, a religion that had now fully consumed Stannis, and his many retainers, as he bought into the horseshit this woman said. With them going so far as to flee Westeros with a large portion of the Royal Fleet due to her vision, abandoning the King and going to join up with some Targaryen, all because of this woman's vague warnings about the Dark One, and the King's corruption.

"You still do not believe." Melisandre stated, a hint of humour in her eyes as she looked at Davos.

"Is it really that obvious?" Davos replied bluntly, not so amused.

"And why is that, why do you not trust me? Or believe in the Lord of Light, when your Lord does, and many of his banner men do too?" Melisandre asked, with no hostility in her tone as she instead gazed into Davos's eyes curiously, looking at him like he was some kind of petulant child.

"Because you're dangerous, you convinced Stannis to abandon his duty to the realm, and for what, so we can trek across the Narrow Sea and help some Targaryen waif retake the Iron Throne?" Davos snapped, his temper flaring as he saw the calm, and collected look on Melisandre's beautiful face. "You have incited Stannis to rebel against the King, his own Nephew, and for what?"

"For the benefit of the world." Melisandre replied simply, raising her hand as she did so, and creating a ball of fire above her palm, before she looked deeply into the flames. "The great enemy is stirring, and the Dark One's agents are already moving. Your King, Tytan, is but a pawn of the Dark One, a corrupted tool, who will bring about the end of Westeros."

"So you say." Davos growled, keeping a wary eye on the orb of fire above the red haired woman's hand as he did so, before she closed her fist and extinguished it.

"So the Lord of Light says." Melisandre corrected him, before she took a few steps towards him, causing him to take a step back, a look of discomfort flashing across his face. "Stannis and his men have already looked into the fire, and have seen the horrors to come, they have seen the task ahead of them and they know what will come to pass, if they fail in their task. You could do the same if you wish. All you have to do is ask, and look into the flames, and then you too will see the threat we face."

Davos scowled as he heard that, more than aware of what she spoke of, after all he had seen the witch showing Stannis, and many of his followers these visions in the flames. Even his own son had looked into her fire and seen these visions, whatever they were. With these visions, having been enough for his son to cast aside the Seven Divine, and instead convert to the Faith of R'Hllor, like all the others who had looked into the High Priestess's fire.

In fact Davos was one of the only high ranking men in Stannis's army not to have taken the witches offer, with him instead stamping down on his curiousity, and holding onto his distrust of this woman and her ways.

Which was occasionally quite hard as the visions she offered were apparently becoming stronger and clearer as time went on, which only made Davos more and more curious about just what they showed, and how they had consumed a man like Stannis, a man of practicality, honour and duty.

"I think I will be fine." Davos finally growled back at her, after a few moments of thinking the idea over.

"That is your choice, and I will not force the truth upon you, but when you are ready to learn, then all you need to do is ask." Melisandre replied gently, taking no offence at his reluctance.

Before anymore could be said between the two, they were interrupted by the arrival of Stannis Baratheon, as the middle-aged man stepped out onto the deck, with the man already wearing his fine leather jerkin, breeches and boots, as well as a high quality grey cloak to protect him against the cold sea air.

Looking around as he arrived, the Baratheon Lord's gaze quickly locked onto both Melisandre and Davos, his gaze hardening slightly at the sight, as he knew the two of them, despite being his two most trusted advisors, didn't get along that much, despite his attempts to make Davos see sense.

"My Lord." Davos said, standing up straighter at the sight of Stannis.

Stannis however just nodded as he looked between the two. "Is there a problem?"

"I've had another vision My Lord, and now know where our final destination is." Melisandre said quickly, even as she sashayed over to Stannis, delighting in the way his eyes followed her, just as she could feel the eyes of many of the sailors on the boat, Davos included, doing the same.

"You have?" Stannis asked, his eyes lighting up at this. After all he had been curious when he had awoken alone in his cabin, as usually the High Priestess was there waiting for him like a dutiful wife would, only she was not his wife, as much as he wished it otherwise. With his wife and daughter instead being on a different ship, away from him so they wouldn't distract him from his task.

"Yes, and we must go to the City of Qarth." Melisandre said decisively. "For in Qarth we will find allies, those who will help us in our cause."

Stannis nodded at that. "Qarth it is then."

"Qarth." Davos grumbled, knowing as he did that the city was slightly east of Slaver's Bay, meaning they were already heading in the right direction, with the new destination only adding a couple of days onto their voyage. "I will send a message out to the rest of the fleet and inform them of our finally destination."

"Good, do so." Stannis nodded, a slight smile spreading across his usually stoic face as he looked out at the horizon as the sun continued to rise.

By his side Melisandre smiled too. "And hurry, for every day we tarry, the darkness draws in, and the Long Night continues its approach."

( - )

(With Daenerys, in Essos)

It was early the next morning when Khal Drogo's funeral pyre finally burnt out, now bereft of any fuel. It was as the pyre smoked and smouldered, that the now, ash covered and nude form of Daenerys Targaryen walked out of the remnants of the pyre.

The sliver haired girl, miraculously alive after walking into fire, and also nautically holding a pair of baby dragons in her arms as she stepped out of the smouldering remains of the fire and instead approached her remaining followers.

Her violet eyes holding an eerie gleam to them as she looked out over the Dothraki around her, those that had stayed near the pyre for warmth during the night, creating what meagre shelter they could as they waited for morning.

"Khaleesi." Doreah, one of Daenerys's handmaidens muttered as she stood up, the lithe girl's eyes widening as she and the others that remained saw the silver haired girl emerge from the funeral pyre, her body covered in ash but otherwise unharmed. Doreah's brown eyes widening as she saw that not only was Danerys alive, but that she was also carrying two creatures that were thought to be extinct.

In response Daenerys just looked on at Doreah, her gaze cold, and devoid of emotion as her new-born dragons, her children cried out.

Seeing this Doreah fell to her knees before Daenerys, the rest of the tiny Khalasar following her lead, as all those assembled before the Targaryen began to kneel, bowing their heads down as one of the dragon hatchlings, the one with black scales, opened its wings and let loose a loud cry.

( - )

(Beyond the Wall)

In the land far beyond the Wall, the horde of the dead continued to grow larger, their pace growing faster as well, as the magic of the world began to strength once again. The horde growing larger and larger everyday as bodies, some of them centuries and decades old, wrenched themselves up from the snow, their rotting flesh and cracking bones, reanimated and imbued with new life as they shambled along, heading south.

At the head of this horde, a set of cold, icy blue eyes surveyed the stark, barren landscape in front of him. The beings horned head tilting to the side slightly, his breath misting out in front of him, before without a word he dug his heels into the flanks of his undead horse, urging the creature on as they began to travel every further south, the horde now coming in contact with the living people that lived this far north. All of whom would die, their bodies joining the ever-growing horde of the dead.

( - )

AN: So what did you all think? I am sure there are some who didn't like that there was no Percy/ Tytan in this chapter. I can understand that as he is the MC/ protagonist of the story, despite that though I do need to develop and show what is going on in other areas so I can push the story forward.

So other than that what do you think. I hope I was able to get what I wanted to do with the first part of the chapter in King's Landing, which was more than just talking about what is happening in the the Kingdoms, but more the feeling of what is happening in the city . I also hope I wasn't too cryptic with what was going on in the second half and my phrasing. Either way I hope you enjoyed the chapter and leave a review.

On another note entirely, I've been somewhat badly behaved and have started planning out another Percy Jackson/ Game of Thrones story, only this one is set beyond the Wall, and will involve Percy having as more direct link with the White Walkers. For this story I have also been taking some themes from an old strategy PC game I used to play, called Warcraft 3: Reign of Chaos, and its expansion the Frozen Throne. Both of which were useful as inspiration for planning out my new story, and constructing the basic plot.

That being said it is only in the planning stage and I will likely concentrate on update a few of my more favoured stories for the moment. But I think, depending on how I feel about it, and the response I get, I may draft a first chapter sooner than later.

So yeah, would love to hear people's thoughts.

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review, they inspire me to write.

Greed720.