So hello all, here I am back again with another chapter! And hey, at least it didn't take me a year to update, and its relatively hefty. Also it's the 18th August, which makes this update kind of fitting as it is Percy Jackson's canon birthday.
That said this chapter was a pain in the arse to right, as there were certain elements and things in it that I've been building to for a while. I can only hope the payoff was worth it.
But anyway, hope you enjoy, and please leave a review etc. If you have any questions or suggestions, please feel free to PM me.
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( - )
(Last Time)
A pair of glowing, hoarfrost blue eyes opened.
Before him, a mass of undead wights numbering in the thousands shambled forwards, leaving the cover of the trees as they approached the gigantic wall of ice in front of them, chasing the last remaining living beings as they fled to the safety of the Wall.
From overhead, three horn blasts could be heard ringing out from the top of the Wall. The sound carried long and far, echoing through the dead forest.
Winter had come.
( - )
Chapter 31
( - )
(With Percy on the Golden Rose)
The wind was cold and fierce as it swept over the bow of the Golden Rose, the great, four-masted, carrack-type warship, battering all those foolish enough to be on deck, even as it ploughed doggedly through the rough, steel grey seas.
Pulling his sealskin coat, with its bear-fur lining, tighter around him, Percy – one of the fools that dared to be on deck – stared through the light rain and heavy mists. His stance wide as he braced himself against the balustrade of the Golden Rose's fore high castle, his body shifting slightly as he easily adapted to the ever shifting and moving deck.
At nearly twelve metres wide, and a keel length of around forty-two metres, the Golden Rose was a true behemoth, or rather in this case, a leviathan, of the seas. The hull had four levels separated by three decks. To his left and right, on the fore high castle where he stood, there were a pair of deadly looking ballistae on swivelling bases, further below, behind him, on the main deck, there were also three catapults, also set on revolving bases, just as there were another dozen ballistae set either on the aft castle, or on the upper decks. The ship had enough armament to slight a coastal keep.
Overhead, he could see ten large black sails billowing about from the four masts and the bowsprit. The foremast had two large square sails with the sigil of the crowned stag embossed boldly upon them, and the mainmast three with the same design; the mizzen mast meanwhile had a lateen sail and a small square sail; the bonaventure mizzen had a lateen sail and a square sail; and the bowsprit flew a small square spritsail.
Truly, the ship was over the top in every way.
It was, as far as he knew, the largest warship ever built; a veritable floating fortress with a crew of over one hundred sailors, one hundred and fifty trained marines, and three dozen siege specialists that crewed and operated the heavy weaponry.
Only now, it also played host to the king, several of his kingsguard and his sworn men, as well as his usual entourage of hangers on; including a new maester, one that had volunteered to take on Qyburn's place and duties in his entourage for the next month and a half or so. This was supposedly a diplomatic mission, so in the end he had needed to keep his retinue around to make a show of it.
The warship, from what he could see, had been built based on the most modern of designs – some of which he himself remembered suggesting to the royal shipwrights back when the royal fleet was being built – and had been ordered and paid for by the Tyrell's, before being presented to him as a wedding gift.
From what he had heard, it had taken fifty shipwrights and several hundred labourers working solidly nearly eight months to build the beast, and had cost a fortune in gold, and had devoured a small forest in materials and resources.
But also, from what he could see, it was almost certainly worth it.
The ship was all but unassailable with high-sides which would put off all but the boldest and most suicidal of boarders, numerous heavy armaments that could probably turn a dragon into mincemeat or an enemy ship into kindling, and thick walls which could most likely tank all but the heaviest of blows.
It was an absolute monster of the sea, a medieval weapon of mass, maritime destruction, and, more importantly, it was all his.
Taking a deep breath of bracing sea air, Percy closed his eyes and revelled in the freedom of being at sea.
He liked the ship, even if it was a bit crowded.
But more than that, he just loved being at sea again.
He felt free out here sailing across the ocean, the mainland little more than a dark, hazy blob in the distance. He felt happier and more free here, right now, than he ever had within the confines of the Red Keep.
Here at sea there were no courtiers kissing his ass, no mother trying to interfere or manipulate him, no grandfather trying to throw his weight around and browbeat him into taking his 'advice'.
No, out here at sea he could just stand on the deck and relax. The only other place he had felt this free from expectation and responsibility had been in the Godswood, and those few cherished moments he had had with Leaf and Oz.
Smiling at that thought, he took another deep breath of sea air.
It was not all bad being king, though.
Sure, the responsibility that now rested on his shoulders could be oppressive at times. What with the expectation and the high-stake decisions and choices he had to regularly juggle around, even as he managed the multitude of snapping, vicious vipers that lurked around the corners of his Court. But for the most part, he did generally enjoy being king, especially now he had a competent Small Council – Renly notwithstanding – to whom he could pass on the day to day minutia involved in running a kingdom.
This in turn allowed him to focus more on the things that interested him; such as the development of the imperial army and fleet, the expansion of his boarders and the stabilisation of his existing territory. Aside from that, he was also focussing on the development and improvement of the Seven Kingdom's social structure. Which meant encouraging and facilitating more apprenticeships and vocational education for the more intelligent among the commonfolk, even as he tightened the laws to reduce corruption and crime, and strengthened the power of the Crown.
He had found his niche, and it worked for him.
The kingdom was currently running smoothly enough that he was willingly to step away for a short while in order to resolve some personal issue, and things were improving for the kingdom and the populace at large, and perhaps more importantly, he had also started to derive some measure of happiness from being king as well.
Which was fortunate, as the alternative wasn't worth even thinking about.
After all, if he had not stepped up and taken on the mantle of king after Robert passed, then it would have fallen to his psychotic brother, Joffrey, as the next in line. Who, he imagined, would have mostly likely followed in the Mad King's depraved footsteps and brought down the entire Baratheon Dynasty in blood, fire and civil war due to his own lunacy and cruelty.
That, or Joffrey would have allowed either their mother or grandfather to bully him into allowing one or other of them almost total control over the kingdom, which in turn would have probably led to civil war as they tried to turn the Seven Kingdoms into the Lannister Kingdom. Which was something his snake-like uncle, Renly, would have jumped on in an instant, along with Baelish, Pycelle, Varys and the other vultures that had infested the court prior to him taking control. With the result being the implosion of the kingdom as the monarchy was ousted and the rest of the vultures fell to infighting.
Percy let out a sigh at that thought.
Fortunately, he had no delusions about his family, which in part why he had had no choice but to step in and take control and crush the opposition because anything other than that would have led to the collapse of the kingdom and the death of most or all of his family, due to the actions of the more psychotic and sociopathic members from both the Baratheon and Lannister sides.
His sigh turned into a dry chuckle at that thought.
For all that people decried the Targaryens as being inbred lunatics, his own family were not that different. Literally in this case, as his siblings were all products of incest between his mother and her brother. Which didn't bother him on a personal level, considering his desensitisation to it due to his time at Camp Half Blood and in Tartarus. But it certainly did explain his younger brother's insanity, as he apparently had pulled the short straw in the genetic lottery.
Of the lot of them, only Myrcella and Tommen were worth damn.
Even though he was aware of Margaery's motivations, he still almost pitied her for getting involved with his fucked up, dysfunctional family.
After all, Margaery, unlike many of the ladies of court he had met, was genuine when she asked him for aid or assistance with helping the commonfolk, and funding orphanages, and didn't just do it for the boost to her reputation or to look good in front of him.
Beneath the lies, bullshit and attempted manipulation, she had a good heart. More than that, she also had a good head on her shoulders, and was both thoughtful and analytical, and formidably sharp and intelligent. She didn't have her head in the clouds like so many others, which was no doubt a by-product of being raised at the knee of Olenna Tryell.
A slight smile played around his mouth, as he thought about his wife and the last week they had spent together, living in marital bliss as man and wife.
Considering they were still relative strangers in the grand scheme of things, it had been pretty great.
They had spent large portions of each day walking the gardens together, or dining in their solar, or just wandering around the city, all while preparations were being made for his journey to the North, and in the nights… well, during the nights he had discovered her darker, more insatiable side.
Feeling himself stiffening at the memories of the last seven nights, and several mornings and afternoons as well, Percy had a difficult time fighting off a broad smile.
He had been nervous prior to the wedding, after all he barely knew Margaery.
But now, even after only a week with her, those nerves had settled.
He didn't love her, not yet.
But he definitely saw a future with her, one in which they would both be able to grow to love each other, even as they enjoyed a happy and very active marriage.
It wasn't perfect, and definitely not how he saw his life going when he was much younger. Still, he was content, and optimistic for the future.
As if in answer to his thoughts the loud shriek of a hawk overhead suddenly drew his attention, even as he looked up and saw a large, dark feathered bird swoop down from the steely grey sky, its wings beating heavily as it fought its way through the strong winds, before finally landing on the bowsprit, its golden eyes locking with his own.
"Leaf," Percy said mildly, chancing a glance back behind him to where he could see Matthias and Luke both wrapped up in coats and talking as they stood huddled around a nearby brazier, trying to soak in the warmth. Both of them were on guard duty today, and neither of them were happy about it, especially considering they were both hungover. Behind the two men he could also see several dozen crewmen going about their daily duties, even as the wind continued to pick up, and the seas continued to be rough and unrelenting.
It appeared the weather, which was already bad, was getting worse, and the seas in turn were getting far more ferocious.
The deck was certainly rolling more, even as the gargantuan ship continued to steadily plough through the heaving waves.
It looked like a storm would soon be upon them.
Taking it all in, Percy hazarded a glance at Leaf's bedraggled bird-form, only to nearly flinch as he saw the burning irritation and expectation in her bright, golden eyes.
"Point taken," Percy nodded, a slight smile playing around his mouth as he dug deep and reached out with his power and attempted to calm the seas.
Only for him to actually flinch this time as he felt the sea lash out at him furiously when he tried to take control of it and still the worst of its fury.
The sea was angry, more so than normal.
Gritting his teeth, he raised his hand and clenched it into a fist.
Poseidon the god of the Sea was his father, or at least his spiritual father, and as such his father's domains were under his control…, or at least they should be….
Never before had he felt them revolt on him like this. Usually, they would put up a little fuss when he tried to tame their ferocity, but after some token resistance they gave in to his demands, or for a while at least, after all the sea was an unpredictable and contrarian beast and no matter how hard he tried it didn't often stay calm for long.
But it had never been this rebellious before
Ignoring the mental backlash he could feel as the seas raged and roared at him for having the sheer temerity to so much as touch them, let alone command them, he slowly but surely forced them into compliance, or at least the area directly surrounding the ship.
Something had fundamentally changed, and not for the better.
"Tytan?" Luke asked nervously, as Percy slumped forwards against the balustrade, his knuckles white as he gripped onto the carved wood and tried to stay on his feet, all while fighting off a sudden wave of fatigue.
He was tired, more so than he had been in a while.
The only time he had been more tired, was when the Eyrie had fallen.
Still, he had succeeded, Percy rallied at that thought.
The ship no longer rolled and rocked like it had previously, and the winds had calmed.
There were still waves, and the waters were still choppy, but they were no longer as large or as vicious as they had been. The seas, for the moment at least, had been tamed.
"I'm fine," Percy replied quickly, pulling himself upright and ignoring the eyes he could feel boring into him.
His heart was thudding faster in his chest, and his gut was roiling and churning.
He felt a bit nauseous.
"Just a headache," Percy continued, loosening his sealskin coat to get a bit of air, even as he felt rays of sun beginning to peak out from behind the dark, steely grey clouds overhead.
"You seasick or something?" Matthias asked queasily. "Don't think I've ever seen you get this affected before?"
"Well, the ship was pretty fucking rocky," Luke grumbled, as he spat over the side and sidled over to Percy, his hand coming down bracingly on his shoulder. His other hand meanwhile offered Percy a wineskin. "It's water."
Taking the skin, Percy took a deep gulp of the cold, clean water, and let out a sigh. He could feel the fresh water soothing his stomach, and settling his nausea.
"Thanks," Percy muttered, a frown still in place as he reached out to the sea again.
It felt mutinous and irritable, but for the moment at least, it had settled down again. But with a storm still brewing, it would not be calm for long. Soon enough he would probably have to step out again and do the same thing, or at least he would have to if he wanted to make good time getting to White Harbour.
"Did…, did you just do something to the calm sea?" Luke asked again, his brow furrowing as he looked over the noticeably calmer waters.
"I tried too," Percy replied, his expression relaxing slightly as the sea, for the moment, continued to passively brood over his actions. "But it was harder than it should have been."
"Erm…, I don't know what to say to that... I mean, is it usually easy to control the sea?" Luke asked uncertainly, glancing behind him as he did so to look at Matthias.
From the side, Percy could just about make out the bemused expression on his friend's face.
"It's not easy, but at the same time it was never normally that difficult. Something's changed." Percy frowned, his gaze now on Leaf, who in return cocked her avian head to the side and took off, her large wings beating several times as she floated forwards, riding the winds, before with another shrill cry she dived low and shot under and around the ship. "I think I've had enough fresh air for the moment. I'm heading back to my cabin."
"Finally," Matthias muttered under his breath.
"Sounds good to us," Luke nodded, talking over his comrade. "Do you want some company or-"
"I'll be fine, just stick a guard outside, I don't want to be disturbed." Percy cut in, forcing a smile onto his face as he started walking down from the fore castle, and headed for his private quarters in the aft castle, both Matthias and Luke filing in behind him as they walked across the busy deck.
( - )
(At King's Landing)
The king was gone.
Tytan was gone.
Her son had temporarily left his seat of power, and the control of the kingdom, in the hands of the Small Council and his Hand, Kevan Lannister.
It was an odd feeling.
Tommen was in the Stormlands, and was being groomed to be the next Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. As the current Lord of Storm's End, Renly should really have been the one teaching Tommen, but fortunately the strutting peacock preferred to spend his time in King's Landing; mincing about in silks and sheathing his short sword in Loras Tyrell. Which in turn meant that the other great Storm Lords; House Swann, House Dondarrion and House Tarth, those from Lesser Houses that would be the ones teaching her little lion.
Likewise, Myrcella her little lioness, was stranded in the North and stuck living with barbarians, even as she was betrothed to marry the lord of the savages, Robb Stark. Just the thought of it filled her with helpless rage.
Fortunately, she would not be alone for long. After all, with Tytan heading to the North on his diplomatic mission, whatever that was, he would meet his sister again, and would then hopefully see sense and bring her back to King's Landing where she belonged.
Still, for the first time in her life, practically all of her children were out of reach now, save for her precious Joffrey, but even he was out of her reach in many ways; despite him once again being back in King's Landing. After all, her father was a harsh and strict man, and took his duty of training Joffrey into being his heir very seriously. Which meant that despite being back in King's Landing for nearly two months now, she hadn't had a single chance to be alone with her golden lion, not with Tywin keeping him so close almost all the time, or having him constantly watched by the Hound.
It was almost like her father was going out of his way to ensure she wasn't alone with her second child. Not that she believed for a moment that that was the case. Her father might be a cruel, pitiless and ruthless man, but he at least understood the value of family.
Still, the absence of her children in her day to day life was a very odd, and very unwelcome feeling.
And now even Jamie had left her, with him having travelled up north with her eldest, as befitting his duty as a Kingsguard.
Which meant she was now alone, and in many ways left feeling lost and powerless.
Instead of being the Queen, or even the Queen Regent, she was now just the Dowager Queen, for all the power that such a title implied.
Cersei's expression darkened at that thought, even as her grip on her goblet of wine tightened.
She had now been replaced as Queen, by Margaery Baratheon, a younger, and dare she say it, more beautiful woman, who had slunk into her home like a thief in the night and cast her down, taking all she held dear.
She bared her wine stained teeth at that thought, grinding them together in frustration at her hopeless situation.
Turning and hurling her goblet of wine at the wall, Cersei forced down the scream of fury she could feel bubbling up within her as her treacherous mind thought back to that day long, long ago, when she had met that foul, hedge witch, Maggy the Frog, and asked the putrid bitch three questions about her future.
'When will I wed the prince?'
'Never. You will wed the king.'
That part of the prophecy had come true.
Though instead of her intended being Rhaegar Targaryen, the Crown Prince at the time, like she had expected, it had instead been Robert Baratheon, the usurper of the throne.
'I will be the queen, though, won't I?'
'Aye. Queen you shall be… until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.'
Her eyes moistened as she remembered the second part of Maggy's prophecy, the part that she was now living.
Clenching her hand into a fist, she lashed out and shattered the mirror opposite her in futile rage.
'Will the king and I have children?'
'Oh, aye. Seven-and-ten for him, and four for you. Gold shall crown the heads of three, and destiny will become the shroud of one. Two will live, and two will die. One will hate you forever more, and one's tears will drown you as the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.'
Her heart pounded faster, and black tears began to run down her cheeks as the black kohl around her eyes dripped.
Raising her bleeding hand, Cersei clasped it close to her as she stared at her reflection in the broken remnants of the mirror.
The words of the final prophecy ringing in her ears.
She would not allow this one to come true.
All of her children would live.
She would accept being supplanted, she'd hate it, and hate Margaery forever more, but she would accept it if it meant the last part of the prophecy didn't happen.
Or perhaps, she thought, her expression darkening as she brought her bloody hand up and inspected the cuts that now graced it. Perhaps, if she stopped the second part from coming true, would that then invalidate the third part of the prophecy?
Licking the blood off her hand, even as she called for one of the maids she had waiting outside to come attend to her, Cersei continued to stare at her reflection.
The king was gone, and as such his overbearing shadow on the kingdom had lessened.
For the first time in an age, she was free to act on her own.
No longer did she have to watch her son foolishly rush forward and ignore her advice. No longer did she have to fear being sent away back to Casterly Rock for pushing him too far.
Ignoring the nervous maid that nervously crept forwards, Cersei instead smiled a bloody smile to herself.
The Small Council would soon be meeting, and as the Queen, and as a ruler with many years of experience, it was about time she started making her voice heard.
Already her father, she knew, had made his move.
Her spies had told her of how he had already started gathering supporters in the Court, including some of the lords from the Crownlands and the Vale, all of whom still lurked around King's Landing like flies on shit, looking to cosy up to the king and make connections for their own self-aggrandisement. Her father had also, she knew, begun undermining some members of the Small Council as he expertly got to work on making his influence known. The man had previously served as Hand of the King for twenty years, and although Tytan had made changes and had stacked his Small Council with loyal retainers, Tywin still knew how to play the game.
Licking her lips, Cersei smiled again.
He wasn't the only one who knew how the game worked, though.
She had been a master at playing the game for over twenty years now, and had just as much experience as her father. More than that though, she also had a pre-existing network within the Capital to work with, damaged though it might've been by her son's heavy-handed way.
Her father meanwhile had relied almost exclusively on Pycelle and his network, which he was probably most likely regretting, after all the treacherous cur's weathered skull was still impaled on its pike on traitor's row, and his network of spies and informers were all dead or subsumed.
Her smile turned slightly vicious at that thought.
Her involvement in the running of the kingdom had been on her mind for a while, and she had already made inroads, but now that her son was gone for the moment, it was time for her to take on a more direct role.
If she wanted to protect her children and her legacy, she could no longer stand back and allow Tytan to do as he wanted.
No, it was time she started to play the game once more.
( - )
(With Percy on the Golden Rose)
Stepping into his cabin with Matthias and Luke taking watch outside, Percy didn't hang around as he quickly shucked off his sodden coat and draped it over a nearby chair, his expression not changing as he quickly scanned the large, luxurious cabin for a moment. His eyes trailing over his armour and weapons rack, his large wooden bed, and the full sized dining table and matching chair for a moment, before coming to rest on the shuttered windows at the back of the cabin.
Striding across the rug covered floor, ignoring the wet footprints his boots left, Percy threw open the windows and stepped back, a small smile finally breaking out across his face as a large, golden eyed hawk flew in through the open window.
Only for its form to shift and change the moment it entered the cabin; misty, green magic swirling around it, even as legs lengthened, its beak melted into flesh, and its wings changed into arms.
Within the space of a few seconds, a pair of bare feet landed on the rug.
Smiling slightly, Percy's gaze trailed up and down Leaf's form, even as the shapeshifting wood elf approached him.
Her form had changed again.
Her skin was still bronze coloured, and her eyes golden, and her form was still that of an adult.
But from what he could see; she was taller than he remembered her being.
With her now standing several inches taller than him now, well over six foot.
Likewise, her body, still clad as it was in leaves and vines, looked stronger and more toned than before, she looked like some kind of savage warrior queen.
The most noticeable change in her current form, however, was definitely the pair of antlers he could see jutting out of her long, wild mane of bronze hair, almost like a crown.
"Leaf? You've change-" Percy started to say, somewhat taken aback by the change in her form.
Only for him to be cut off as Leaf immediately began to talk, her tone serious.
"Perseus," Leaf interrupted, her expression grim. "We need to talk."
"Ah, is this about Margaery?" Percy asked, his heart sinking, even as guilt, a long forgotten emotion, started to pluck at it. He had suspected that this might be an issue, but it was one he had been hoping to avoid for a while longer.
"I care not for your secondary mate." Leaf waved his comment away dismissively, expression not changing for an instant. "Who you choose to sport with, in your spare time, is up to you. Lovers and mates though we might be, we are both still free to live and love as we want. No, this is something else, something more important."
Percy's brow furrowed as he heard the seriousness in her tone, his resolve firming. "Is it Ozymandias?"
"No, the young dragon whelp is still healthy and growing, he pines for you, but I've been able to keep him distracted." Leaf replied, her tone still serious, but her golden eyes warming for a second, and a smile playing around her mouth as she spoke fondly of the dragon. "As for your family and your city, all there seems well, or at least what little of it I have seen during my flights."
"Then what is it?" Percy asked, confused now.
"The magic of this world is continuing to strengthen, and with it the gods of old have begun to awaken." Leaf said, stepping over to his bed as she spoke, before sinking down on to its furs like a queen might sit on her throne.
Percy frowned, his expression turning serious too at the mention of gods. "Explain."
"The gods, the immortal beings that in ages past ascended to godhood, have awakened after millennia of dormancy." Leaf said bluntly. "The gods, they are in many ways like you and me, they are intrinsically connected to magic. Only unlike us, they ascended through it, and as such have become addicted to it. The gods need magic to live, like you humans need water and food. When it faded, so too did their power. Without it, they would have died; and if there is one thing the gods fear above all, it is death, the long sleep. So instead, they became dormant, relying on the dregs of magic leftover and the prayers and sacrifices of their followers to keep clinging to life."
"And now magic has returned, they no longer need to remain dormant to survive." Percy muttered, his eyes narrowing as he guessed where Leaf was going with her blunt explanation.
"The moment of your birth was the catalyst, it created the spark which reignited the dying embers of this world's magic. Since your coming my kind have grown stronger and stronger as each year passes, soon we will be as powerful as we were in our zenith. But we were just the first. Next the great enemy awoke in their icy catacombs, and then so too did the dragons start to return as the magic in the atmosphere became rich enough for them to live once more. And then after that the mortals, those that have foolishly bound their souls in the service of their gods, grew stronger, even as they continued to be granted access to the meagre scraps their gods gave out in return for their servitude and supplication. And now, finally, the magic has grown strong enough that the gods have started to awaken from their long slumber." Leaf said, her voice tight and filled with an odd mix of fear and heady exhilaration.
"The age of the gods." Percy muttered to himself, sinking down into the wooden, wing-backed chair opposite Leaf. His hand stroking his chin idly as he thought on what she had just said.
He didn't know what to think.
The gods, if they were anything like the divine beings he had known, were generally chaotic neutral.
Sure some of them were violent, evil and cruel bastards like Ares and Zeus, and some, the minority, were kind and caring like Hestia and Hebe.
The titans and giants were a whole different thing, and tended towards being chaotic evil.
But still, the majority of the gods, although callous, ignorant, selfish and just generally unpleasant; were not evil per se, but at the same time they were far from good. They cared only for themselves and their own pleasure, and often used their power to get, and do, whatever they wanted, regardless of the consequences and collateral damage to the mortals.
Percy's hands clenched into fists at that thought.
Yeah, the gods returning, if they were anything like the ones he remembered, was not something to cheer and celebrate about. They were a cancer on mankind.
"How powerful are the gods?" Percy asked, after taking a few moments to collect himself and gather his thoughts.
Leaf tilted her head to one side as she looked at him. "More powerful than me, and more powerful than you are right now. But they are not invincible, Perseus, nor truly immortal. Gods can, and have, died before."
"Died?" Percy asked.
"The gods were all mortal at one time, humans most of them. Though this was long ago in a time where magic was plentiful, and the land was very different than what it is today. Back then, they were simply mortals who wielded great power over magic, and who later they used this power to, through one way or another, stop their ageing, preserving their existences, ascending from the mortals they once were, as they anchored themselves to life. Only for most of them to slowly but surely lose touch with their mortality and morality, even as they instead became parasites." Leaf explained, her expression grim, before it relaxed slightly. "Or at least most of them did. The Old Gods were different, they were all once ancient sages, druids and greenseers, only instead of greedily pursuing immortality for their own ends they merely became one with the land and the magic that infused it, giving up their mortal bodies as their immortal spirits merged one with nature."
Taking in her explanation, Percy frowned.
They didn't sound like gods as he knew them. The old gods sounded more like a grand collective of nature spirits who had once been mortal beings of flesh and blood. The other gods, meanwhile, they just sounded like powerful sorcerers that had found ways of attaining immortality, and grown god complexes because of that. They were more like Dionysus, only instead of being granted godhood by the gods for their deeds in life, they had instead claimed it for themselves through other means.
Then again, what he did know was based on myth, legend and word of mouth from the gods themselves.
Which made it suspect to say the least.
Still, her words did give him some small measure of comfort.
"So, what does this mean?" Percy finally asked, his brow furrowed as he ruminated over what he had just heard. "Is there a way to stop it?"
Leaf shrugged. "I don't know."
"Well, shit," Percy muttered, a scowl playing across his face as he remembered his sudden struggle with controlling the sea. "Do you know how long this has been going on for?"
"Nearly twenty years, I imagine, since your rebirth." Leaf said. "As each year passed, they've been growing stronger, but only now are we starting to see the consequences."
"That's annoying." Percy scowled, and truly it was. "Is there anything else you can tell me from back then? Or, is there anything you know about any particular 'god'?"
Leaf cocked her head to one side in thought. "I did not live through the age of the gods, I was born after. What I know is what was passed onto me by those that came before. I know some, but not all."
Percy nodded for a moment.
Now that he was aware of the threat, he needed to prepare. Which meant first he needed a greater understanding about the deeper mysteries of this world and the many religions that pervaded it, starting with those based in Westeros, like the Seven Divines, the Old Gods and the Drowned God.
"But enough talk." Leaf continued, her expression changing again as she smoothly stood up, her golden eyes locked on him. "I didn't just come here to warn you of the 'Great Stirring'."
"Oh?" Percy replied, his heart sinking as he waited for her to drop another exposition bomb on his head.
"Yes, it has been over a week since we last sported, and a week is too long." Leaf stated bluntly, a sensual smile spreading across her full lips, even as she stood at her full and not inconsiderable height, her new antlers almost scraping against the ceiling of the cabin.
"Leaf," Percy said, his previous worries momentarily forgotten as a sudden heady scent began to surround him.
She was exuding magic.
He could almost taste it rolling off of her lithe, well-developed form.
"I'm..., I'm married now." Percy muttered.
"Your human conventions mean little to me." Leaf said dismissively. "You do not love the girl, I was able to see that much when you went through with your ritualistic joining."
"I don't love her, you're right. But that doesn't mean I am willing to cheat on her." Percy replied.
Leaf narrowed her eyes at his comment. "You do not love her, and yet you deny your own happiness and pleasure to stay with her? I do not understand…"
"I'm not unhappy, but… well… it's a human thing." Percy shrugged weakly, his gaze trailing longingly up and down her form, before coming to rest on her antlers.
"So foolish then…" Leaf replied, her lips curling upwards into a slight smirk, before moments later she rolled her eyes.
"Pretty much," Percy sighed.
"Very well, I will leave it for now. But do not think that this is the end. You were my mate first, and although I have no qualms with you sporting with another, I will not stand for the other girl to keep you to herself." Leaf said after a few moments, her expression stern. "I will return for you another time."
Percy opened his mouth to reply, only for no words to come out, as he struggled for what to say in response to the wood elf's declaration.
"Till next we meet, Perseus." Leaf continued, her eyes narrowed again, even as she took a step forwards, and then swooped down and stole a fierce, almost violent kiss from him, her tongue invading his mouth for a moment, before seconds later she withdrew. Her eyes still smoky, even as she then turned and flew out of the window seconds later, once again in her bird form.
"Well shit." Percy muttered, his mind a muddled mess as he tried to bring his thoughts into some semblance of order.
( - )
(Small Council Chamber)
The king had been gone from the capital for over a week now, and this was the first Small Council meeting to take place in his absence.
It was also the first one that Kevan would be running personally, as usually Tytan, as a very hands-on king, decided when to meet, and was usually the one that set the agenda, before leaving him to guide the meeting, and advise as he wanted.
Now, though, it was all on him.
He was the absolute power in King's Landing now that Tytan had left.
In many ways, it was a nerve wracking experience. After all, although he was an able enough battlefield commander, and had long since learned the nuances of court and politicking. This was the first time he would be the one leading proceedings.
There was no Tywin to command him now.
Nor was the king here with his overbearing presence.
Instead, all he had to rely on was himself and his own wits and experience.
He was now the most powerful man in King's Landing, the king's representative who in Tytan's absence spoke with his authority.
It was almost as exhilarating as it was nerve wracking.
Clearing his throat, Kevan looked around the room, his eyes trailing over the other members of the Small Council - Olenna Tyrell, Renly Baratheon and Qyburn -, before coming to rest on the two empty seats, the larger, wing-backed chair that the king usually sat in, and the other chair which had been put aside for the Master of Ships, the final seat on the council. That chair would soon be filled by Prince Doran Martell, when he and his household arrived at the Capital.
Kevan's brow furrowed at that thought.
He understood his nephew's reasoning for inviting Doran Martell to join the Small Council, in the sense that it brought Dorne back into the fold, just as the Princess Myrcella's betrothal would secure the North, and the naming of Lord Yohn Royce as the new Lord Paramount of the Vale, and Warden of the East, would secure the Vale.
Which only left the Riverlands as the only remaining kingdom to appease; what with Tytan taking Margaery Tyrell of the Reach as his wife, and his brother's taking up the positions of heirs to the Stormlands and Westerlands.
Already he suspected that his son, Lancel, would likely be sacrificed on that altar, not that he was specifically against such a union, so long as the bride he was offered from the Riverlands was of the appropriate standing.
Yes, his nephew had done good work in securing and consolidating his realm, even as he pushed for its expansion, what with the expedition to the Stepstones already making great gains as they drove out the pirates and began to capture the different islands that made up the infamous archipelago.
But even so, Doran Martell was not here for the moment, and as such it was time to get on with the meeting, after all the kingdom wouldn't run itself.
"So to begin-" Kevan smiled, his hands linking together in front of him as he looked around at his colleagues.
Only for him to be interrupted mid-sentence as the doors to the Small Council suddenly opened.
Glancing up, Kevan was taken aback to see Queen Margaery Baratheon in the doorway, a demure smile on her face as she glided into the room, a golden armoured kingsguard following along behind her.
All most at once Kevan guiltily felt his mouth dry at the sight of her, his eyes roving up her form fitting blue dress, which truly emphasised her curvaceous body and well-developed breasts, before coming to rest on her flawless face, his gaze shifting over her full lips, large eyes, slight upturned nose, to her long, slightly curly, honey-brown hair.
Truly, she was a vision to behold.
But more importantly, she was the Queen.
Pushing himself to his feet quickly, Renly and Qyburn following his lead, Kevan lowered his head in a bow.
"Your majesty, to what reason may I owe the pleasure of your presence?" Kevan said, calming down slightly as he brought his libido under control once more.
"Why, Lord Hand," Margaery smiled, her eyes locking on him, even as she brought a hand coyly to her face. "I just thought that in my husband's absence, it would be fitting for me to sit in for him."
"Well, your majesty, what I mean to say is-" Kevan began, deliberately choosing his words carefully as he tried to think of the best way to get rid of her without causing offence.
"A splendid idea." Olenna cut him off, a slight smile on her face as she looked over at her granddaughter. "It is only appropriate that the queen learns the goings-on of the realm, after all, how else will she be able to support her husband? Moreover, who else but her would best know the king's mind and his opinions?"
"It is hardly proper, though, Lady Tyrell," Kevan tried, his smile tightening as he saw what the Queen of Thorns was up to.
"Well, it is hardly proper for me to be sitting on the Small Council, wouldn't you say? It very much goes against tradition and expectation, and yet here I am. The king cares not one whit for propriety, what he cares about is capability." Olenna shot back.
"Yes, let her sit in, it will do her good to learn what occurs, and who knows, she might have some insights of her own that may help." Renly lazily added.
Kevan bit back a sharp retort at that, even as he eyed Renly coldly. The man was a wastrel and a degenerate, and added little to nothing. He was a waste of space, and yet, due to his familial relations with the king, Tytan refused to get rid of him.
"Indeed, I think, although unusual, it would be acceptable to allow the queen to sit in on the Small Council business in King Tytan's stead. A royal opinion is always useful." Qyburn added with a slight smile.
In response, Margaery smiled coyly, even as she started forwards once again, her kingsguard following along behind her.
"Very well," Kevan said, admitting temporary defeat. "But I must request that your guard be sent outside for the proceedings."
"Of course," Margaery nodded amiably, before with a gesture she sent her guard off to stand watch outside the room with the other Baratheon and Lannister guardsmen, but not before she had him pull a chair over from the side of the room and position it next to where her grandmother was sat.
With that done, Margaery took a seat at the table, the smile still on her face as she looked expectantly over at Kevan.
Ignoring his irritation, and the discomfort her gaze brought him, Kevan coughed into his hand again. "Yes, well as I was saying, with the king currently heading north, it has been left to us to manage things on his behalf, includi-"
Unfortunately, before he could even finish his sentence he was interrupted again as the doors to the Small Council chamber banged open, even as Tywin Lannister, resplendent in a deep red velvet tunic with the golden lion of House Lannister embroidered upon it, strode into the room, his expression as stern as ever, and his posture straight backed and serious.
"My apologies for my latest, I was waylaid on my way here." Tywin said bluntly as he swept forward, sharing a curt nod with Olenna, and giving Renly, Margaery and Qyburn a single, disinterested look, before he continued towards the empty chair at the table, the one meant for the Master of Ships.
"Tywin," Kevin began, his heart sinking as he saw his brother once again invade the Small Council chambers, just like he had at the last one.
This was yet another futile battle that he couldn't see himself winning.
He knew Tywin too well, and he knew a lost cause when he saw one, which meant he could only salvage the situation as best as he could.
"I was about to have you called, actually. The Ironborn and your ongoing attempts to pacify them is one of the things I was hoping to talk about in this meeting, we've been receiving some concerning news from the west. Though that topic will likely come up later." Kevan began, and in part he was telling the truth, as the ongoing Ironborn issue was one that he had wanted to discuss. Only he hadn't planned on calling his brother here, after all as a high ranking member of House Lannister and the Hand of the King he was already privy to the developing Ironborn situation in the west. "You may sit in for now."
"Oh, may I," Tywin said, his eyes gleaming dangerously.
"Yes, you may at the Small Council forbearance." Kevan shot back sharply, his ire rising at the challenge he could hear in Tywin's voice.
Qyburn and Renly both sent him surprised looks, as did Margaery.
Olenna, however, merely let out an unladylike snort. "Will we ever start this meeting? I mean, I'm all for you two comparing sizes, but do remember that some of us do have other things to be getting on with."
"Grandmother!" Margaery said shocked, breaking the strained silence Olenna's words caused, as she turned to look at the older woman.
From where he was sat, Kevan felt his irritation flaring up again as he saw Margaery's eyes gleaming in amusement.
"As crass as ever, Lady Tyrell," Tywin said dryly, his expression cold as he looked over at Olenna for a moment.
In response, Olenna gave him a flat look in return.
"Now I believe you were about to start the meeting, little brother." Tywin said, his expression still cold as turned to look back at Kevan. Like you, I've received concerning news from the west, and even more concerning news from Essos. More than that, the Court is awash with rumour and worry over the king's temporary absences. While in the city itself zealotry and anger seem to have taken ahold in the king's absence, some ragged street preacher, calling himself the Sparrow, has even started to amass a small following as he decries the king as a sinner, and the High Septon a fraud. I believe now more than ever the Small Council, and the Hand, need to make their presence known."
His brother was exaggerating, Kevan could see that much. He was playing games, and twisting truths to suit his own purpose. It was the same kind of thing he'd been doing for decades, ever since they were children. This was merely him trying to take control and bully him into compliance, again something he regularly used to do when they were growing up.
"Yes, we are fully aware of the goings-on in Essos," Kevan shot back, his voice firm. The would-be Targaryen Queen was building an army, and had most recently joined up with Stannis Baratheon, and from what the most recent reports said, the Ironborn. "But first, brother, if you wish to stay you will need to find a new seat. The empty one that you see before you belongs to the Master of Ships, Prince Doran Martell."
Tywin's expression hardened in response to his challenge, his eye twitching fractionally at the mention of Doran Martell.
His brother had been very against Doran's appointment to the position of Master of Ships, but had been overruled. He had lost that battle with the king quite soundly, and from what he could see was still smarting from Tytan ignoring his 'advice'.
"Come now, I don't see Prince Doran here now?" Tywin smiled, his expression anything but friendly.
"Yes, but there is such a thing as propriety, is there not, brother." Kevan shot back, his expression firm.
He had been forced to allow Margaery entrance because the others had taken her side.
He had also been forced to allow Tywin entrance as well, as to do otherwise would be to alienate the Lord of Casterly Rock, one of the most powerful men in the realm, and the man to whom the kingdom still owed money. It was unpalatable, but some concessions had to be made in order to keep the peace. But he also couldn't show weakness, a point had to be made, petty though it might be.
Raising his eyebrow, he met Tywin's gaze levelly.
From around him, he could see Renly leaning forwards in anticipation and Qyburn sighing to himself resignedly. Margaery meanwhile, looked partially uncomfortable and partially interested in the proceedings, while her grandmother just looked amused.
Several seconds passed, before finally with a forced smile, Tywin continued walking, bypassing the empty chair, as he instead grabbed one from the side of the room, and positioned it at the far end of the table, directly opposite him. "If it truly means that much to you, little brother."
Fighting back a scowl, Kevan took a deep breath and continued. "Now, as I was saying, with the king currently heading north, it has been left to us to manage things on his behalf. With the long winter on the horizon, we will need to increase the amount of food that is being stockpiled. Letters will need to be sent to every lord in the land ordering them to increase their efforts, additionally the crown's tithe will need to be collected, which is why I think it appropriate that we utilise the Royal Army and have them-"
Before he could finish he was interrupted again, as the doors to the Small Council swung open, only this time to reveal Cersei Lannister, clad in red and gold, with a confident smile on her face, and several Lannister guardsmen at her back.
"Guards! The Small Council is in the middle of a meeting, I do not expect to be interrupted again!" Kevan roared, his patience shattering as he surged to his feet. His sudden shout caused several of those at the table to flinch, and Cersei to take a step back, her confident smirk wavering for a moment.
"Uncle, I;" Cersei began with forced calm, only to be cut off.
"You are not a member of the Small Council, my lady, nor were you invited to sit in on this meeting today." Kevan snapped, cutting her off. "Guards, if you will escort the Dowager Queen back to her chambers, I will be along after the meeting to address any concerns she may or may not have, but for now we have to get on with the running of the kingdom! From now on I don't want another person to enter this room, save for King Tytan himself, until our business is finished!"
Gaping at him, Cersei seemed lost for words as her own guardsmen began to gently guide her away, even as the door swung shut once more.
"Well, that was unexpect-" Olenna began, a delighted expression spreading across her shrivelled face
"If you would, Lady Tyrell," Kevan snapped with forced politeness, his eyes closing as he rubbed them with his hand. "I would like to continue the meeting, and hopefully this time, at least have the chance to finish what I was saying!"
Opening his eyes, he looked around the table.
Renly and Margery looked taken aback.
Olenna looked torn between amusement and annoyance.
Qyburn just looked bored with the whole affair.
Tywin meanwhile, had an unreadable expression on his face, looking more like a dead fish at that moment then a proud lion.
"Thank you," Kevan said, "Now as I was just saying..."
( - )
(At Winterfell)
The wind was bitingly cold, bringing with it a promise of winter, and the skies overhead were bleak, grey and unwelcoming. Off in the distance he could see pale mountains, and a vast, dark forest.
Winter was coming, he could taste it in the air.
Still, despite the cold wind, and stark landscape, Robb Stark was still out in the open, walking the walls, with a thick, wolfskin cloak wrapped around his shoulders, and several loyal men at his back.
Even though he had no time to do it today, being out here and surveying his holdings, was a pleasure he had been accustomed to doing recently.
After all, the king and his small retinue would soon be upon them, and he had been in the middle of sorting out the preparations with his mother to welcome the man. Not that his mother was all that keen about the king's arrival, not if her muttered curses every time he was mentioned, and her cold expression, had anything to say about it.
Still, there was a lot to do and very little time to do it in, as he had already heard that morning that King Tytan's warship had just recently docked at White Harbour, which meant the king could be arriving at Winterfell within days.
More than that, he had also been busy running Winterfell, which included dealing with almost daily petitions, pleas and requests from the different lords and ladies of the North, and commonfolk both, many of whom waited for hours outside the great hall every other morning just to get an audience with him.
It was a task which was only made harder, as he also had to deal with the Ironborn raiding the western coast and his lord from that part of the kingdom continuously complaining to him about it. With the Ironborn matter being one that was becoming increasingly problematic by the day as the raids continued to get more frequent, and the stories coming from the sites of their raids became more and more bizarre.
He had long since known that the Ironborn were vile, his friend Theon being an exception to said rule, but to call them demonic, fish monsters was somewhat of a stretch.
It was like a madness had struck the west coast, and maybe it had, after all even the men he had sent to the west to fortify the settlements there and to drive off and kill the raiders, reported similar stories.
Suffice to say, his days were long, and his nights sleepless.
The only bright spot in his life right now was his betrothed, who, young though she was, was still a pleasure to be around.
Myrcella, for all that she was a spoiled southern princess, was also still a very sweet girl, and was very easy to talk to and even easier to get along with. So much so that even Arya, his younger and wildest sibling, liked the girl.
It was a good match, or at least that was his opinion at the moment.
She was young and so there were still several more years before they would be joined in union, if Myrcella was willing of course, but even so he saw himself having a future with her. She would be a good Lady of the North, even his mother thought so. Not that she had directly said such, as instead she remained cold and aloof around the young blonde. But even so, he could read his mother well, and could tell that despite her theatrics, she approved.
Taking a deep breath, Robb calmed himself, even as he turned and stared out at the vast wilderness ahead.
A lot had changed since the last time a king had come to the North.
Back then the king in question had been Robert Baratheon, and his father, Eddard, had still been the Lord of Winterfell, and one of the most respected men in the realm.
Now, Robert was dead, and his father was a traitor who had been forced to take the black.
Robb's expression turned grim at that thought.
A lot had happened in the intervening years, and not much of it for the good, and now the king was returning, only this time for a completely opposite reason.
King Robert Baratheon had come to the North because of a death.
King Tytan Baratheon, however, had come to the North because of a birth.
Robb worried his lip, as he once again considered whether he had done the right thing in telling Tytan about his bastard.
A royal bastard, after all, was a dangerous thing.
One only had to remember their history about the Blackfyre Rebellions, all four of them, and the War of the Ninepenny Kings, to know that much.
Robb's brow furrowing at that thought, even as he continued to look out over the horizon.
He was still uncertain of whether he had done the right thing. But he had at least done the honourable thing, the thing his father would have done.
Robb relaxed at that thought, only for his brow to furrow as he saw three riders in the distance.
The riders were coming from the north, and they wore black.
( - )
AN: So a lot going on here. Percy goes up north, and Kevan and the Small Council are left to deal with things in his absence down south, a task made harder by Tywin's interference, Margaery and Olenna's plotting, and Cersei's issues. Suffice to say things are going to kick off. We've also got the ongoing situation in the far north and west, which has become, hopefully clearer, due to some of the things in this chapter. Even as things escalate in Essos.
So yeah, there is a lot going on, and hopefully I am keeping track of it all. So yeah, although I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, it hits all the points I wanted it to hit. Though admittedly I did originally plan for it to be only 6k words, but... things got a way from me a bit, and I decided to add in an extra couple of scenes.
Either way I am looking forward to writing more of this. Hopefully you enjoyed reading it, or continue to do so. If not then please tell what you didn't like, or what you thought could have been done better? Please leave a review, comment etc. If you have any questions or suggestions feel free to PM me.
Also I am on a discord with a load of other writers, so if you fancy popping over to ask questions or offer suggestions about this story, or any of my other ones, or to find new authors you might not have come across yet, please feel free to use the link in my bio.
Thanks for reading, and I'll see you later.
Greed720.