AN: S not gonna lie, it's been a while. So long in fact that I actually forgot a lot of what I've already written, something which is common for a lot of my stories as the details have all become merged. Which is partly to blame for the length of time, that and the whole Covid situation, which wasn't the best.

Still here is a beefy new chapter which will hopefully tide the many people who message me to ask whether I was alive or have given up over. Thanks for those by the way, the concern was appreciated and the prompting was needed.

That said without any more ado, here is the next chapter, I hope you all enjoy, and if you do then leave a review and what not, and again if you have any questions or queries please feel free to PM me.

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

( - )

(Last Time)

His smile widened slightly as he saw her doe-like eyes fixed on him, a demure smile on her own face as she then gave him a pronounced curtsy, even as a number of others sank to their knees, or bowed, or curtsied themselves.

The king had come home.

Swinging himself off of his horse, Percy surveyed all those arrayed before him for a moment, his smile widening slightly as he saw his man, Ivar standing just behind his mother, even as he turned his head slightly and saw a golden-eyed hawk staring amusedly down at him from where she was perched on one of the statues that flanked the Red Keeps doors.

Yes, he was definitely home.

( - )

Chapter 26

( - )

(With Cersei)

Sitting on one of the Red Keep's upper balconies overlooking the Narrow Sea, Cersei Lannister, formerly Baratheon, absentmindedly sipped some wine from the golden goblet in her hand. Her green eyes were slightly unfocused as she stared out unseeingly at the calm ocean, the blazing sun overhead glittering almost prettily off of the greenish-blue water.

It was a beautiful day, the birds were singing, the sun was shining, and the celebratory mood from her eldest son's return just a few hours previously still filled the city.

Down below she could see men working on the far off docks, by the looks of it they were preparing to launch one of the royal navy's new war galleys, its sails tightly furled and the wood of its balustrades and deck practically glowing.

Further off in the distance, she could see a further two score of similar vessels anchored up in the bay, some of them having recently returned from the Vale, whilst others were preparing to sail out to patrol the Narrow Sea, hunt pirates and protect the kingdom's precious trade routes, both to and from Essos, and throughout the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

All things told it was a beautiful, peaceful day, and a joyous one at that. The king had returned from battle victorious, and would soon be naming Margaery of House Tyrell his bride and Queen.

She should be happy, not only was her eldest son back from the war against the rebellious factions in the Vale, but he was uninjured and victorious, already songs were being sung throughout the streets, inns and mead halls of the city, about his destruction of the Eyrie.

Furthermore, Joffrey, her second eldest, was here too, along with her father and her brother, Jamie. The entire family was now assembled, perhaps for the last time in a long while. Tyrion of course wasn't here, but then again he didn't count, if anything his absence was a blessing, a minor salve to her growing irritation.

After all, despite the happy atmosphere of the city, and the distant sound of bells still ringing out for her son's return, she was still not entirely pleased.

Tommen, her youngest, would soon be leaving her for the Stormlands, alongside a host of loyal courtiers, and a maester, so that he could learn what he needed to know for the day that he would one day inherit the title of Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. He had perhaps a few more days here in the city with his mother and family, before he would leave, perhaps for years.

So too would Joffrey, as soon as Tywin tired of King's Landing he would head back for Casterly Rock, dragging her other son away from her too as he did so, careless of how she might feel about the matter. No, all that mattered to him was his 'legacy'.

As for Myrcella, sweet, sweet Myrcella, her only daughter, soon she would be getting sent up north with some ladies in waiting, a few Septas and some Baratheon and Lannister guardsmen. Her destination, was the cold and bleak Winterfell, the seat of her soon to be betrothed, Lord Robb Stark.

Suffice it to say she was not happy with the whole arrangement. In fact, to say she was not happy would be a gross underestimation of the levels of her displeasure. Incandescent with rage and fury would be a more fitting description.

Even now the very thought of her precious daughter being sent away to the barbaric north, and sold like chattel to a barbaric Stark, filled her with anger.

The goblet of wine in her hand began to shake at that thought, pain blossoming in her white-knuckled fist as she tried to force herself to relax her grip.

Her children were being stolen from her, and there was nothing that she could do about it. The fact they were all present in the Red Keep at the moment didn't make things better. Instead, it was just a reminder that they would all soon be gone.

Perhaps even worse than that, was the source of her anger, and the one responsible for the scattering of her children over the length and breadth of Westeros, Tytan, her eldest son.

She loved her son because of course she did. But at the same time, she disliked him, or at least she did at the moment.

He might be the King, but he was still young, barely even a man grown.

He wasn't ready for the responsibility of ruling the Seven Kingdoms. Not when he acted like a child, railing against his mother just for the sake of being stubborn and petulant.

The fact that he was ignoring her advice was evidence enough of that. She had nearly nineteen years of experience ruling the Seven Kingdoms as Queen. She had far more knowledge and experience than Tytan. Yet he had not invited her to be on his Small Council, nor had he listened to her advice on how he should deal with Dorne, the Tyrells, the North and the Vale.

He missed opportunities to elevate Lannister far above any other House and solidify their legacy. Yet he refused to do so. Instead, he rode off to play soldier as his grandfather and retainers planned his battles for him.

Tytan was too young and naive. He was prone to manipulation too, the fact that both the snake, Renly, and the thorny bitch, Olenna Tyrell, had managed to worm their way onto the Small Council was evidence enough of that. Fortunately, she had been able to persuade him to appoint Qyburn, a good and far more loyal man to the Council too, hopefully between him and Kevan the damage they would cause could at least be mitigated.

Taking another sip of wine, her flawless face creased into a frown.

She needed to take her son in hand, she needed to force him to listen to her counsel, and the sooner the better.

Already her son's mismanagement was creating problems.

The North was still a power, and would only become more powerful when her foolish little brother Tyrion completed his asinine canal project. Furthermore, Tytan's offer of marrying Myrcella into House Stark would elevate their social and political status. Soon enough the northern peasants would begin to see themselves as the Lannister's equals.

The Vale was now in ruins, with the remaining Lords of the Vale squabbling and fighting over the remnants. Assassins should have been sent in, and deals cut with Lyra Arryn's traitor lords and sellswords. The entire situation could have been solved with a bit of guile and cunning, something her son clearly lacked.

Both the Tyrells and Renly, were still in the court causing who knows how much trouble as they whispered their honeyed words into the ears of the witless worms that infested this city.

The Dornish were still being obstinate. Prince Doran hadn't even deigned to visit the Capital yet to swear fealty, an insult if ever there was one. Furthermore, she had heard rumblings of rebellion from Dorne, apparently a Targaryen had been drumming up support to usurp the throne from the Lannisters, right under her son's nose.

If ever a display of power was needed, it should have been directed at the traitorous, feckless Martels and their cowardly retainers, not at the better-bred and nobler men of the Vale.

Another mistake on Tytan's part, one that she could have helped him avoid if he would only listen to her guidance.

Furthermore, and perhaps worst of all, her son was wasting the Crown's money on a fleet of warships of all things, when he should be focussing on hunting down the traitorous Stannis and reclaiming the Crown's existing fleet.

Tytan was making too many mistakes, far more than she thought he would when he first ascended to the throne. Her son had always struck her as not only being a warrior and a fighter like his father, but also intelligent, and wise like his mother.

Yet in spite of that, he was not wise enough to listen to the advice of those more experienced than him.

Draining the last of the wine from her goblet, Cersei nodded to herself.

She would have to confront her son, and soon. She needed to make him see the folly of his ways, and then help him put the Kingdom back onto the right path.

Only, first things first, she needed to find the boy.

Cersei's lips curled in displeasure at that thought.

She knew where he would likely be, he would either be parading around with the group of ill-born savages he called friends, or with that simpering quim of a girl, Margaery.

That or he would be messing around with that dragon of his, honestly the boy treated that beast like a pet as opposed to the lethally dangerous weapon it actually was.

The boy needed to be set straight, and it was up to her to do so.

( - )

(With Tytan)

Walking through the quiet corridors of King's Landing arm in arm with his betrothed, Percy had to keep a smile pasted onto his face as the two of them continued to pass by groups of quietly chattering nobles, all of whom at the sight of him, stopped and bowed to him, before then watching him pass.

There were eyes on him no matter where he went at the moment. If not from those he passed in the keep's passageways, then from Margaery's ever-present ladies in waiting that trailed along behind the two of them, or from his guards for today, Matthias and Jamie, both of whom flanked the two of them as they headed for the Keep's rose garden.

Since returning to King's Landing a short while ago, he hadn't had a moment to himself, nor had he had any time to slip away from his hangers-on so he could talk to Ivar about his covert mission to Dorne.

Instead, all he could do was welcome the man back with a smile and a strong handshake, and then throw him a purse of coin and tell him to enjoy himself with his other sworn swords, before his attention was then seized by the nobles that had flocked him en mass upon his return.

His Uncle Kevan, he knew, wanted him to throw a Small Council meeting almost immediately upon his return so they could discuss the happenings in the Kingdom and beyond, and then plan for the future.

Apparently, news had only just now begun to leak in from Dorne, and even then just to those that were most in the know, that Oberon Martel had been found dead, and whilst in the company of a Targaryen.

Currently, the word was that he had uncovered a group of dis-landed gentry, and traitorous nobles whose Houses even now supported the old regime, plotting a rebellion with the young Viserys Targaryen, and had died trying to 'valiantly' capture them. A hero's death to be sure, and one that, according to Kevan, he should make known to all and sundry, a death he should acknowledge and honour. As apparently, it would be something that would go a long way to repairing the fractured ties between Dorne and the Capital.

Honestly, it was not a bad idea.

Though it would obviously grate on him to lie about a traitor, even if it was for the good of the Kingdom.

His grandfather meanwhile, wanted a more private meeting between just the two of them. What said the meeting would be about, he really had no idea. Though a part of him suspected that it would have something to do with giving Tywin more power and influence in the Capital. Perhaps by naming him as the new Master of Ships, or more likely as the new Hand of the King, even as Kevan was relegated to just being the Master of Ships.

He would need to somehow defuse that situation if it was indeed what his grandfather was after.

"You look preoccupied, Tytan?" Margaery's soft voice suddenly spoke up from beside him. Her body shifted slightly as she turned to look at him, her deep, doe-like eyes locking with his own sharper, cooler gaze, even as a coy smile spread across her face.

"Just thinking," Percy replied idly, forcing another smile as he did so. "It's been a hard few weeks, a lot of things have happened, and I've had a lot to think about."

"I can imagine," Margaery nodded amiably as the two of them continued forwards now. Escaping the heat of the castle's corridors as they instead made it out into the fragrant-smelling rose garden, a veritable sea of bright colours met Percy's gaze as he looked over the perfectly manicured landscape. The occasional servant or noble caught his gaze as the two of them started to walk down the main path. "Tell me, what was it like?" Margaery continued.

"What was it like, my lady?" Percy smiled, cocking an eyebrow as he pondered just what 'it' she meant.

"To wield that much power? They say you were like the Warrior incarnate, and that with a single stamp of your foot, you brought down the Eyrie?" Margaery pressed, her eyes alight with interest.

"Tiring," Percy replied easily, "But also exhilarating. In that moment, when I was at my strongest, it felt like…, well I felt alive, perhaps for the first time in who knows how many years. It was, well it's difficult to explain. When I drew on my… power… it felt like I could do anything. But still, it was painful too, after I let it go, it felt like my entire body was on fire, or like my body was being jabbed with a thousand red hot swords… again it's difficult to explain..."

Margaery hummed at that, her head tilting slightly to one side, her glossy, caramel-coloured hair falling down one side of her face like a wave as she locked gaze with Percy once again. A small smile now on her face, and her eyes alight with excitement and anticipation. "Could you show me?"

"Show you?" Percy chuckled, looking away from his betrothed now as he instead looked around at the rusty-coloured walls around him. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Not many people would appreciate it if I bring the Red Keep down around them…"

A soft melodious laugh erupted from Margaery's lips at that.

To Percy's ears, it sounded fake.

"No, I don't mean for you to tear the Red Keep down." Margaery smiled, her eyes glimmering with amusement. "But I do want to see some magic. I have heard that you can control water, and manipulate it to make shapes and statues, and well anything you please."

"Ah so that's what you're after…" Percy smiled, raising his hand now, before with a wave of his hand he pulled water out of the humid air, enough of it to then shape it into the shape of a glimmering rose, one reminiscent of the symbol of House Tyrell.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Margaery beamed, delightedly clapping her hands together as he presented the rose to her.

A slight smile played across Percy's mouth at her response, but only for a moment as he continued to watch her play with the solid, yet translucent rose.

Margaery was a mystery to him, she was a beautiful girl, clearly both intelligent and strong-willed, with a delightful smile and easy-going, kind-natured personality. In some way, she was the ideal woman.

At the same time, however, she came across as very fake. She was the kind of woman who seemed to like everything that he liked, and laughed at his every joke, even the poor ones. It was almost like she was adapting and changing her personality and her actions to appease him.

No doubt it was something that she was trained to do from birth. With beauty, intellect and a lineage like hers, Olenna had clearly seen a great amount of potential in her granddaughter, and as such had sculpted her into the person that was before him now.

She was the perfect woman, and yet she made him uncomfortable.

With Leaf, what you saw was what you got. She was mysterious, yes, and quite quiet and taciturn at times too. But when she smiled it was genuine, and the sight of it filled you with warmth, and when she laughed the entire world seemed to laugh in delight with her. She had no side to her, as she didn't see the point in having a side. She was an ancient, shapeshifting beauty, who had seen the rise and fall of empires and had been born into this land when magic still suffused the land, and dragons still flew in giant glittering flocks through the sky.

She didn't pretend, because she had no need to pretend.

Instead, she acted like every day might be her last. She didn't allow the years she had lived to weigh down on her. Nor did she conform to other people's expectations of what she should be in life.

She was free.

Freer than him at least.

After all, he was old, nowhere near as old as her, but still, he was old. The centuries he had spent in Tartarus was evidence enough of that, and those long centuries had worn him down. Those years had worn away at his humanity and his compassion, he was not the same kind and naïve teen that had leapt into the eternal Pit after his girlfriend all those long years ago.

No, he knew he was a jaded, hollow shell of that person.

Or at least he had used to be.

When he had been in Tartarus every day had been a never-ending struggle, a fight, a battle.

After he had taken the plunge into the sea of chaos that wallowed beneath the Pit and had awoken here, in a new world, with a new family, and a new chance at life, he had felt for a moment like he had a chance to return to who he was, or maybe evolve into something new, something better.

However, the pain and misery of Tartarus had still weighed on him, occasionally he had managed to escape that gnawing feeling by indulging himself in alcohol or in the pleasures of the flesh, that or he had found solace in spending time with his new family and exploring this new world that he was now a resident of.

He had managed to get by, burying his memories of his time in Hell, by doing anything and everything he could to avoid dwelling on them.

Trauma, depression, stress, it never really affected him before, nor had it ever really affected any Demigod before. After all, they were born to be heroes and warriors, fighters to the end.

Just as their brains were hardwired for combat and understanding Ancient Greek or Latin, so too were their brains engineered to not be affected by things like PTSD, depression, anxiety or anything like that.

They were basically bio-engineered to be perfect warriors and heroes. Heroes who wouldn't give up, or shy away. Warriors who wouldn't curl up into a ball and weep at the knowledge that ninety five per cent of them wouldn't make it to the age of sixteen, and would instead have gruesome deaths.

Instead, they had been born to fight monsters on their parent's behalf, and for their favour, and to both protect the mortals and bring their sire's the adulation they so craved as they lounged about in the heavens.

It was pretty fucked up if one was to actually think about it.

Feelings like loss and grief, feelings you'd get when a brother or sister died, or a lover, they would be there for a short while, but then they would slowly but surely fade.

The memories would stick with you, but the feelings associated with them would become more and more muted. Until eventually you just accepted what had happened, and then carried on.

Percy should have been no different, in fact until he had left the Pit he had been no different, it was one of the reasons he had remained as sane as he had down there.

However, when he had first escaped the Pit and awoken in this new world, the effects on his mind and his memories had haunted him and had not faded as they should have. This is what had led him to use as many vices as he could to try and distract himself from these constant, unfamiliar feelings.

Unlike in the past, however, these feelings hadn't rapidly faded over time. Instead, they had stayed with him, haunting him.

Or at least they had until he performed his first feat of magic, earning him the recognition of having been 'Blessed' by the Seven Divines.

Things had gotten easier after that, and slowly the memories had gotten easier to handle the more and more he used his abilities, and the stronger his powers grew.

All of this culminated in what happened a few weeks ago at the Eyrie when he had flexed his powers and pushed them further than he had in many, many years.

It felt like he had just thrown a heavy burden off of his back. Like he had been holding up the sky for the last eighteen years, only to then realise that he didn't even need to, and thus cast it aside freeing himself from its crushing weight.

It was like his system had been rebooted, and the taint of Tartarus had been purged from him, along with all of the debilitating emotions and feelings associated with that foul place.

Now more than at any other time in his new life, he felt free, freer than ever, all of which gave him a new perspective on life.

A perspective that Leaf must have come to terms with long, long ago, and one that Margaery hadn't even come close to learning yet in her young life.

At that thought Percy glanced over to Margaery, even as he heard her humming happily to herself as the two of them once again began to stroll through the gardens.

The tune was a new one, it was one he had heard only a few days previously, one that belonged to the song about him bringing down the Eyrie.

Her choice of tune couldn't be a coincidence, it was planned to appeal to him and put her in his good graces, just like all her actions and reactions seemed to be.

Smiling back at him, Margaery batted her eyes slightly, before tilting her head in a coy fashion.

"Is there something the matter, my King?" She asked.

"No, no not at all. I was just thinking about how beautiful you look today." Percy smiled. It wasn't a lie, she did look truly glorious today.

Margaery blushed prettily at that. "Oh my, you sure do know what to say to a woman, my king,

Percy smiled again at that, unsure of what response to give. Talking to Margaery was harder than talking to a whore or to Leaf, or to a maid, or a lesser lady he was courting. He didn't know what to say, and because of that he just felt awkward.

The woman was to be his wife, and yet he had only known her a short time, and what little he did know of her might in fact be false, an illusion she had crafted to draw him in.

None of which of course was her fault. She was just a product of her upbringing and of the society she lived in. Her grandmother had raised her to one day be a Queen. To traverse through the kingdom's politics with a delicate touch, and to influence and engender herself to the right people as she navigated her way to her place in the King's marital bed.

Regardless of who that king might be.

If Renly had been successful in usurping him, Percy had no doubts that Margaery would be seeking to be his wife too.

The same would hold true if Joffrey had been the elder child, and not himself.

He couldn't blame her for it, not when he considered how difficult life must be for a woman in this society. It made the era in which he had been born look like an easy walk in the park.

That said the same could be said for anyone who wasn't born into power with a cock between their legs. Life in Westeros, and Essos too for that matter, for anyone who wasn't at the top of the hierarchy, was shit.

"My King, is everything alright?" Margaery pressed on concernedly, worrying her lip slightly with her teeth as she looked up at him in a dainty, cute way.

"Yes, yes fine." Percy smiled taking her free hand in his own now, even as the two of them once again began to walk through the gardens. Her hand was soft and smooth, a far cry from his own larger, rougher, and calloused hands. "I was just thinking is all…"

"Thinking about what?" Margaery replied, her fingers tracing all the scars that littered his hand gently and softly, her doe-like eyes once again gazing up at him. "If you don't mind me asking, of course, I wouldn't want to just intrude on your Majesty's thoughts."

"Not at all," Percy smiled, figuratively waving away her 'worries'. "I was just wondering about you, Margaery. What is it you like to do with your free time?"

"Do with my free time?" Margaery replied, a ghost of a smile passing across her face for a moment before it disappeared and was replaced with a cute look of slight confusion.

Once again the fake reaction bothered him, probably more than it should.

"Why I like to engage in embroidery and prayer. Occasionally I also enjoy having tea and sweets in the gardens with my grandmother and my ladies-in-waiting." Margaery continued. Her answer was the 'perfect' answer for a proper lady.

Hearing this, a genuine smile slipped across Percy's face. The woman was very good. In fact, were she living in his original world and era then she would have probably been able to make it as a very famous actress. She certainly had the looks, ambition and talent for it.

Of course that wasn't the case, nor was it a possibility. On top of which, her answer wasn't the one he wanted, despite her giving it to him because it was the one she suspected that he wanted.

Which of course he only took as a challenge.

"Well that sounds very boring doesn't it." Percy grinned, taking his eyes off her now as he once again began to lead her through the garden, a direction now in mind. From what he had heard from Jamie, this place had a perfect view out over the city and of the sea.

From beside him, he could see Margaery almost stumble, her expression going momentarily blank as she tried to work out what to say to this unexpected response.

Behind him, Percy could practically feel his Uncle Jamie rolling his eyes, even as the slight shuffle of armour and mail gave away the fact that Matthias was holding back a slight laugh.

The reactions of Margaery's ladies in waiting however were a mystery, though he did manage to sense as he spread his senses through the water in the air that one of the following women seemed to peel off from the main group of five.

No doubt she was going to be reporting in, to the 'Queen of Thorns', that things had taken an odd turn. Probably just in case the older woman needed to arrange a coincidental 'accidental run-in with him' to run damage control.

"Your Majesty!" Margaery finally exclaimed, her voice holding a carefully calculated note of surprise and slight admonishment to it as she tried to buy time for her recovery.

"What can I say," Percy shrugged, the smile still on his face. "It does sound boring. Are you telling me you have no other interests; like reading, or horse-riding, or maybe hunting or gardening? You come across as an intelligent woman and a well-educated one too. Surely you're not telling me that you have never rebelled against societal expectations?"

"I-I don't… I mean, well…" Margaery began, her uncertainty showing now.

"Take me for example," Percy smiled as he continued to guide them to a garlanded balcony overlooking the city and the sea. Apparently, this was where Olenna usually held court. Thankfully though she was absent today. "I don't just enjoy fighting and drinking you know. I enjoy music too, and love sailing. More than that, I sometimes enjoy just jumping on a horse and riding off to explore the lands and meet people I would never normally meet. It's not Kingly, nor even something that one would expect of a noble, but I enjoy it all the same."

Releasing Margaery's hand, Percy leant against the balcony's balustrade, an amused smile on his face as he watched her face scrunch up cutely, her smile more forced than ever as she obviously tried to work out what she should say next.

"Relax, Margaery." Percy pressed on, the smile still on his face as she looked up at him, her brow still furrowed as her mind no doubt continued to whirl after the unexpected direction the conversation had taken. They weren't just exchanging meaningless platitudes and compliments anymore. "We're betrothed, nothing is going to change that. In less than a month we'll be wed as man and wife for the rest of our lives. With that in mind I think we should at least get to know one another properly, and by that I do mean properly."

"My King, Tytan," Margaery said, her voice still slightly stilted. "I, well I…" Once again she trailed off.

"I've heard you enjoy going into the city and visiting the orphanages?" Percy said, deciding that he would help her out.

What he was doing now wasn't particularly fair to her.

But still, it was important all the same, as Margaery was going to be his wife one way or another. After all, he couldn't marry Leaf like he wanted to, he knew that much already; both because he doubted that she would accept his proposal, and because he knew that the rest of the Kingdom definitely wouldn't.

As such if he was going to spend the rest of his life with this woman, and not the one he ideally wanted to, he might as well make an effort to get to know her properly. After all, who knows, they might get along, and he might one day fall in love with her.

"Yes, yes I do." Margaery finally replied, her face and posture relaxing now as she seemed to internally come to a decision on how she should act going forward. "It is something I've always felt strongly about, and as such something I did regularly in Highgarden. I like to visit them, and to meet and see the children, and sometimes to tell them stories too or hand out food and toys. Not that there was anywhere near as many orphanages in Highgarden as there are here."

"I suspect not, this city is much bigger than Highgarden is, and much rougher and harsher too. There is a lot of poverty here, and an even bigger class divide." Percy nodded. "I've tried to help how I can, and have set my Goldcloaks to maintaining the peace, stamping down on crime. I have also tried to set some of the city's greatest minds to solving issues around the quality of the drinking water, and the levels of disease and sickness that affect the smallfolk. It's not an easy situation to deal with."

Margaery blinked in surprise at that. "I thought that that would be something for your Small Council to deal with, not you?"

"The Small Council is just recently formed, and even now other matters have dominated their attention, and yet these issues affecting my people still need to be dealt with all the same," Percy replied, looking out over the city now. "It's one of the many duties that come with being King. You need to not only protect your people through force of arms but to also help them to make their lives better as well. You need to stimulate the economy and teach them skills they can use to better their lot in life. That and there is also a need to provide enough clean water and good food at affordable enough prices for them to get by, even with a small amount of money. The entire thing is a balancing act, between appeasing the nobility and helping those not of noble birth."

"So you want to help the smallfolk?" Margaery asked a note of surprise in her tone now, her gaze evaluating.

It was almost, Percy mused, as if she thought of him as just a war-mongering animal that wanted a pretty trophy wife to stand quietly behind him, even as he sought out battle and conflict wherever he could.

Basically, she expected him to be like his father.

"Of course, but instead of just giving them money and food, I want to help them get the skills they need to get that money and food themselves." Percy nodded. "There was a saying I heard long ago about how you can give a man a fish and feed him for a day, or how you can teach him how to fish and feed him for life."

"So you want to provide education to the smallfolk?" Margaery asked in surprise, coming to stand next to him now. Her tone, held genuine curiosity as she met his gaze.

"In a way," Percy replied. "I want them to learn important skills and trades; things like carpentry, masonry, fishing, farming, ironworking, weaving, fletching and more. Many people already have these skills, but they tend to keep these skills in the family, or they only teach them to a select few apprentices. What I want to do is incentivise those with the skills to take on more apprentices and students and to share their knowledge, and then encourage these people to pass on the skills they themselves learn. Not everyone can be a soldier, nor would I want everyone to be a soldier, instead I want to bring about a renaissance of sorts to Westeros."

Having more skilled craftsmen in the country would only be a boon, as it would help the Kingdom's trade and economy, both internally and externally, flourish. On top of this it would create a surplus of such skills in the Capital, which in itself would then encourage the growing population of young, skilled workers to spread out to other cities and towns in the country, spreading not only their wealth but their knowledge too.

That said, one thing he did not want to be spread too much, or at least not yet was literacy. Skills and basic numeracy were okay. But to suddenly just teach everyone to read and write would cause problems.

Were he on the bottom of the hierarchy, then yes he would want to encourage such things. After all, it was the fastest way to collapse an autocratic system and engineer a revolution as it would allow for the rapid spread of information; such as revolutionary ideology, philosophy and democracy. Furthermore, it would weaken the power of religion, one of the ruling class's greatest tools for societal control and manipulation.

Which, as the head of the autocratic system, was something that he definitely did not want to happen. Or at least not without him being able to mitigate and control the worst of the effects and impacts.

Already by pursuing his current plan, he would be taking a risk, as an increasingly skilled populace would lead to an increasingly innovative and inventive society. This in turn meant that it would only be a matter of time before some bright spark learnt how to build a printing press, and dangerous ideas began to spread.

Hopefully though, by making early preparations now, he would be able to guide and influence how his Kingdom grew and changed, adapting his government and the governmental controls he had so that he could maintain order and control going forwards and put a stop of any rebellions or revolutions before they even had a chances to put down roots.

"That's an interesting proposition, but I think perhaps a difficult one to implement," Margaery said, her brow furrowed. "It'll likely take many years to get results, and even then it might get resistance from some of the more powerful merchants in the city. They surely wouldn't want the competition that such an idea would almost certainly inspire."

Percy smiled. He was right, Margaery was clever. "Oh you're right, it'll take years to get started, but it would still make an interesting long-term project. Tell me, have you any ideas about how we can make the Kingdom a better place to live, both for the nobility and for the smallfolk?"

Margaery's eyes lit up with interest at this, her smile perhaps for the first time turning genuine as she started to talk about ideas she had, and about how she would change things were she to have the power to do so.

( - )

(Sometime later)

Standing in the entryway to the castle a few hours later, a slight smile remained on Percy's face as he bid Margaery goodbye for now. Absentmindedly kissing her hands as he then smiled at her, green eyes locking with brown as Margaery smiled back, a slight tint of pink appearing on her cheeks as she then, almost shyly, looked away.

"I've had a nice time talking with you today, Tytan." Margaery smiled, still holding onto Percy's hands as he lowered them.

"So did I, we should do this again sometime." Percy nodded.

"Absolutely, maybe tomorrow before noon?" Margaery pressed a hint of eagerness in her tone now.

"I'm afraid that might be difficult, as I am planning to call a Small Council meeting tomorrow. Though I'd be happy to spend time with you after the meeting." Percy replied, a slight smile on his face. He had been meaning to have a Small Council meeting today, Uncle Kevan had certainly wanted him to have one, but the time had gotten away from him.

Hell, he hadn't even been able to talk to Ivar properly yet either, though honestly, that was not a surprise considering the man was probably pissed in some brothel somewhere at the moment, balls deep in a whore.

"Oh that is no matter, I was planning to just spend the morning with my grandmother in the Rose Garden, but by the sounds of it she'll be busy too, so I'll just break my fast with some friends there, and wait until you are free," Margaery said, flashing Percy an almost cheeky smile as she did so. "It'll disappoint my grandmother though, as I have no doubt that she was looking forward to hearing about how our stroll through the gardens went today."

"Already planning to report to your grandmother about me then," Percy replied, his lips twitching upwards in amusement.

Margaery didn't verbally reply to that. Instead, she just sent me another quick, mischievous smile and then curtsied. "Until tomorrow then, my King."

"Yes, I'll be seeing you tomorrow Margaery," Percy bowed back, still smiling as he saw Margaery and her gaggle of ladies in waiting leave.

"That seemed to go well," Jamie said dryly from behind Percy.

"Yes, it did. She is more interesting than I thought she would be." Percy nodded, his smile turning into a look of contemplation as he watched Margaery disappear around the corner, with a last lingering glance and smile back at him.

"True, though I think you took her by surprise with your bluntness earlier," Jamie added with a wry smile.

Percy glanced sideways at his Uncle at that but didn't reply.

Instead, he turned and began to walk off in the other direction. Now that he had some free time, he was planning on visiting the forest grove that his dragon called home. It had been a while since he had seen the little critter, or the not so little critter nowadays.

On top of which he suspected that he would most likely see Leaf there too, which was just another bonus for him.

Life, Percy thought as he walked down the corridor his two guards walking alongside him now, was pretty good for him at the moment.

( - )

(In Essos)

Standing on the prow of the Dauntless, Stannis Baratheon's flagship, Daenerys Targaryen cast one last, lingering, longing look back at Qarth as the majestic walled city became slowly more and more distant.

Her time in the beautiful city had come to an end, her Khalasar had grudgingly been loaded up on Stannis's ships, alongside a battalion of Xaro's mercenaries, her two dragons and a small contingent of Warlocks from the House of the Undying.

Their destination now was Astapor, where they would acquire through any means necessary, as many Unsullied warriors as they could, as well as however many other slave soldiers they could find. After which all that would be left was to hire the Golden Company and the Second Sons, outfit a navy and then they would be off to Westeros.

Or at least that was the overarching plan.

Melisandre however, seemed to think something different would happen. The demented woman just kept on rambling about spreading her Lord's Light throughout the cities of Astapor, Meeren and Yunkai, and casting down the false idols that the Masters there worshipped. Replacing their veneration of gold and cold hard coin, with admiration and reverence for her god, the one true god, R'Hllor.

All of which Daenerys took to mean, the Red Priestess was looking to cause trouble. Furthermore, she did not approve of the cities in Slaver's Bay and thus wanted to bring them to heel.

Not that Melisandre was alone in her bloody thoughts.

Already Daenerys knew that Stannis wanted to blood their newly forming army before they hit the shores of Westeros and 'liberated' the throne in the name of the Lord of Light.

His worries however were more understandable. After all, Tytan Baratheon apparently had nearly a score of seasoned and battle-hardened commanders to call upon and had been building a royal army, one which, according to Stannis, could be a real threat if it were to be mobilised against their armada to stop their landing.

The rest of her party meanwhile, were thankfully a bit calmer than Stannis and his pet fanatic.

Davos was the admiral of the fleet and as such had been in discussions with the other ship captains, and natives of Essos who knew the waters better, and had thus not been present at any of the meetings they had thrown.

The Warlocks had all retreated to their 'sanctuary' that they had set up in the captain's cabin of one of the ships, promptly kicking the previous owner out as they instead filled the cabin with incense and other things that were apparently relevant to, well whatever it was they believed in.

As for Xaro, he and Dorea, the two having apparently become lovers, had stayed with her, both of them standing with her at the prow, advising her as they did on what she should do next and how she should manage the many conflicting interests of the group she had put together.

Life, Daenerys mused as the city of Qarth finally disappeared from sight, was complicated.

( - )

(Far off beyond the Wall)

The legion of the dead continued their march south, their numbers growing daily as bodies exploded out of the frozen ground, awoken by fel necromancy. New mangled, rotting, and sometimes skeletal bodies constantly joined the ever-growing mass of bodies heading south.

Gaunt, corpse-like, pale men, with wispy white hair, cold, burning blue eyes and weapons of ice leading them. Their footsteps were slow and resolute as they lead the undead horde onwards, their forces spreading out constantly, consuming any life they found and adding it to their numbers as they went.

Already tens of thousands of the wild humans that called the land to the north home had been butchered and raised.

Some of them had been fleeing south looking for safety, while still others had been grouping up.

Apparently, one of the mortals had named themselves as the king beyond the wall and had gathered many a savage mortal to his banner.

Now this would-be king was fleeing south, his army in tatters after the unyielding, unstoppable dead had hit their gathered forces hard and scattered them. With the undead hordes even now hunting and scourging the remnants of this alliance of men and giants front the land. Killing them as they did so before they then turned them.

Every day he could feel his generals drawing on the cold, cruel power inherent to all of their kind, the winds carrying with them the screams of the damned as freshly slain bodies were reanimated, their eyes now glowing with hoarfrost as their rage over their deaths, was now directed towards the living.

A cold smile spread across his face at that thought, the arctic winds not bothering him as it blew around him.

His pure white flesh no longer felt the cold, nor did it really feel anything anymore. It was like the rest of him, cold and all but unfeeling.

The only emotions that held any sway over him now were rage, anger and a dull, aching longing.

Grasping onto those last dregs of the man he had been, his lip curled upwards into a snarl, revealing his sharp, jagged, white teeth. His blue eyes locked onto the sight of the vast Wall in the far-off distance as he did so.

Even from where he stood up high and what had once been called 'The Fist of the First Men', his sharp gaze could pick out a line of black-cloaked men approaching his position, they were still miles off, but that distance would not save them. They were as good as dead, they just didn't know it yet.

Once again he smiled slightly at that, his lips tugging upwards as he scanned the swarming horde of undead around.

The army was all but complete, there remained only a few thousand more live bodies on this side of the Wall.

Once he had gathered up his full forces, then then, and only then would his war, the last Great War, truly begin.

Soon, very soon, this would all be over.

( - )

AN: So what do you all think? There was quite a bit of introspection, but I feel it was needed after a couple of action heavy scenes. Especially as things will calm down for Percy for a bit now, even if things are hotting up, or cooling down in other parts of the world. Danerys and her alliance of ne'er-do-wells are up to no good, who knows what that crackpot Melisandre is plotting, or those rascally warlocks. And in the far north things are getting even more chaotic.

So yep, plenty of stuff happening all around at the moment. Still lots of intrigue in Westeros, and there'll probably be some trouble cropping up soon from seafairing folk. So interesting things are abound, especially since, by my estimates, we're only just over halfway through the story now.

Other than that, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and stay safe out there.

Catch you later.

Greed720.