Hello everyone! Here is the next chapter, and the next one is going to be filled with so much war, death, destruction, and Shalltear's shenanigans! Hopefully, all of you are going to like it! And sorry for the quick chapter, but it's the way it is! The next one is going to be longer!
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-Harriet Potter: The Demon Empress
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-Overlord Geass
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Chapter 33
Galadriel gracefully waved at the soldiers parading out of King's Landing. The majority of them longed to catch a final glimpse of their beloved queen, the revered ruler of Westeros, and Galadriel willingly indulged their wish. She understood that many of them would meet their demise in the upcoming battle against the Targaryen pretender, and she was prepared to make the necessary sacrifice. Galadriel even went as far as feigning tears, enhancing the dramatic spectacle before her, and even let out a few sobs for added effect.
Some of you will die, and your bodies will be lost in the mud and shit. But I assure you, I'll remember each and every one of you! Well, not really, but none of you need to know that!
Galadriel, with her face covered, coughed awkwardly. Her gaze shifted to the soldiers departing from the city. With any luck, once they had dealt with that Aegon pretender, things would calm down for a while. Galadriel desperately needed a respite, not only because she had more pressing concerns to attend to but also because war, though entertaining, consumed a great deal of time. The endless paperwork that accompanied it seemed never-ending. It was not fun to deal with all of that. It almost killed the fun of watching soldiers killing each other.
"So, it begins once again," Tyrion stated as he stood next to his niece. "I must say, my dear niece. You're perhaps the monarch who has lived through many wars in such a short amount of time."
Galadriel snorted quite loudly. "Thank you, uncle, for those kind words. It was I want to hear."
"If I may interject, Your Grace, it is worth noting that your popularity surpasses that of any ruler in history," Varys chimed in, nodding affirmatively, clearly aiming to uplift Galadriel's spirits, and indeed, his words succeeded in bringing her joy. Galadriel took great pride in her esteemed reputation. She worked hard for it. Nevertheless, wars then drag out any goodwill from the people. Galadriel understood it better than anyone.
I must not drag conflicts too much. Galadriel hummed deeply before she heard a dry chuckle from the back.
"What that means is that the people, especially your soldiers, are happy to die for you," Bronn replied with a mocking smile. "Very happy group of men, indeed."
Galadriel glanced and saw Bronn standing next to Tyrion and Varys, as well as Podric, the brave squire. So far, that group has become a strange circle of friends. Weird friends, you find yourself surrounded by Uncle. Galadriel thought in amusement, wondering what they talked about when no one was around.
"Such a lucky woman I am," Galadriel replied drawly.
"Hey, Your Grace, take your victories wherever you find them," Tyrion defended himself. "Do you know what people are calling these years? The first of your reign?"
Galadriel's curiosity was piqued as she heard this. She tilted her head and observed her uncle's expression, but his smirk gave it away. "Should I even ask?" Galadriel muttered, glancing at Brienne, the Hound, and Ser Loras. They all averted their eyes, already aware of what the answer would be. "It's really that bad?"
"They are calling it the Years of Suffering," Tyrion said, and Galadriel's expression changed into one of shock.
"Years of Suffering? Are they truly calling it that?" She asked, stunned.
"It's what the Masters are using now," Tyrion replied, a bit amused by his niece's expression. If he were to say it, it would look as if Galadriel was annoyed by the name, which she was in some part. "Do you like it?"
"Sure, uncle, I absolutely adore it," Galadriel retorted with sarcasm oozing from her words. "I couldn't be more thrilled that my inaugural year as queen will be forever associated with suffering. Oh, apologies, I meant to say years of suffering."
"Hey, at least it has a nice ring to it," Tyrion retorted, as Galadriel now glared at him, which caused him to flinch. "Yeah, sorry."
Galadriel scoffed and then turned away, her queensguard faithfully trailing behind her, able to sense her annoyance. Nevertheless, Galadriel had tasks to attend to today that were surprisingly unrelated to her ongoing plots. Instead, she found herself dealing with schemes orchestrated by nobles and her mother's mischievous antics. Thankfully, Shalltear and Pandora's Actor would be able to complete their current task. But if she was honest, it was Shalltear who brought concerns to her.
Shalltear only needs to make sure the Greyjoys and the Ironborn are done. Nothing more. I do hope she doesn't lose control. Galadriel sighed as she pondered. Just then, a young boy approached her, carrying a letter. Before he could reach her, Brienne intercepted him.
"Your grace!" The young man called. "A letter from the Night's Watch."
"The Night's Watch?" Galadriel mumbled, suddenly realising that she hadn't been paying attention to whatever was happening up there. It was indeed a mistake on her part, but she decided to rectify it. Taking the letter in her hands, she read it carefully. Soon, her eyes began to focus on the letters, each word making her frown deeper.
"Bad news, Your Grace?" Tyrion asked before he noticed Galadriel giving him the letter.
"It's from Maester Aemon of the Night's Watch. Their Lord Commander is dead. Took a ranging party north and never made it back," Galadriel stated before giving them all one look with her golden eyes, shimmering in the light.
"One appears to have made it through," Tyrion muttered as he read the letter. "He claims the dead are coming for us."
"Well, that's quite the announcement," Bronn muttered.
"Uncle, what do you think?" Galadriel asked him. "You went there and met them. Do you think they are liars?"
Tyrion appeared lost in contemplation, carefully pondering over the words. He couldn't deny that he had entertained the possibility, given the multitude of bizarre events that had unfolded in recent months. Dragons, even his own niece, had sprouted wings. All these occurrences left him wondering about the potential truth behind the letter. Still, Tyrion had a hard time believing it, maybe because it was too much to believe in.
"I met the Lord Commander; he was not a man who lied about things nor found interested in doing so," Tyrion replied as he glanced at her. "You know that. Both of you coordinated a lot in order to bring the Night's Watch back from its pitiful state."
Galadriel nodded deeply, though she winced, feeling annoyed. At this moment, she had made the decision not to journey north hastily. Facing an unknown enemy without sufficient information about them was not something Galadriel was willing to do. All she knew about the White Walkers, or the Others as they were called, was that they were ancient beings. Their true power, however, remained unknown. Nevertheless, Galadriel possessed great patience. She took pride in her ability to gather information and strategise from a position of advantage, carefully analysing her adversaries. And that was precisely what she intended to do.
"The Wildings are a concern, too," Tyrion added, and Galadriel sighed.
"Years of suffering, I see what it has a good ring to it," Galadriel muttered, knowing she would have to speak with Pandora's Actor again.
Massey's Hook provided the ideal landing point for an army of such considerable size. Young Griff, also known as Aegon Targaryen, believed that the entrance to Westeros lay just ahead of them. The opportunity was now in his hands, and there would not be a next time for him or the Golden Company, for that matter. So, he sighed deeply before turning to Connington, who appeared to be in his own thoughts.
"How long has it been since you've been home?" Aegon asked, bringing Jon Connington back to reality.
"A while," Jon replied quietly, his mind suddenly flooded with memories of his disgrace and the numerous failures he had endured in his youth. He had been too arrogant to see the consequences of his actions back then. However, times had changed, and Jon had grown significantly from his past self. His gaze shifted towards Aegon, whose intense purple eyes seemed to be expecting more than just a brief response. Yet, Jon couldn't provide any further explanation. He had different plans in mind, and most importantly, he was determined not to repeat the same mistakes he had made with Rhaegar.
"You must be prepared for what's coming. They, without a doubt, will know where we land, and they have dragons," Jon whispered dangerously, and Aegon nodded.
"I have no desire to fail nor to die here, Jon," Aegon replied quickly.
"Then you cannot afford to be weak," Jon declared. "You must not show mercy to your enemies, for they certainly won't extend the same courtesy to you. You're up against individuals like Tywin Lannister, who will stop at nothing to eliminate you, utilising any means necessary."
"I know who I am against, Jon. Tywin Lannister killed my mother and my sister. I promise I am not thinking of giving him any mercy. The moment I sit on the throne, I shall end the Lannister family. All of them."
Aegon made a declaration, and he was sincere in every word; he knew that taking over would not be a simple task. He was already contemplating his plans for the Seven Kingdoms, understanding that solidifying his rule would be a challenging endeavour. To win them over, he would have to make numerous compromises. However, one thing was certain in his mind: the Lannisters and Baratheons had to be eradicated.
"What about my mother's family? What about the Martell?" Aegon asked and saw Jon shaking his head.
"They have not," Jon replied in a mumble. "The Tyrell have not reply us either."
Aegon looked at the shore, getting closer each second. "The flowers are cowards. They had already lost by following Renly Baratheon. I have no doubt they'll wait until the last second before siding."
"I'm not going to be surprised if that's the case. However, your uncle should've listened to you. He owes you his loyalty," Jon hissed angrily.
"Should we have landed on Dorne first?" Aegon mumbled.
"No, it would have been a waste of time. Currently, Lord Stannis Baratheon is fighting the Greyjoys in the Iron Islands. The North and the Riverlands are engaged in battle with the remaining Ironborn in the North. The Tyrells have no intention of risking their own safety any longer. The only obstacles standing between you and the Iron Throne are the Lannister and Crownlands armies."
Jon's words ring true to Aegon, as he understood that he had arrived at the right moment to take the Iron Throne. The Seven Kingdoms were fragmented in his eyes, each with one goal in mind, and it was his duty to force it back together. However, one thing remained, one worry that made him stop.
"The dragons," Aegon whispered. "That's a big challenge to overcome."
"True, but let's not forget that dragons are not invincible," Jon replied, gesturing towards the vast fleet of ships behind them. Each ship was armed with multiple large scorpions, poised to unleash their firepower at the mere sight of a dragon in the sky.
"Do you think she'll attack us?" Aegon asked, and Jon scoffed loudly.
"Tywin Lannister will never allow the queen to do such a reckless thing. She has no heir, and if she were to be caught by one of our scorpions, then it's over. Nevertheless, I have no doubt that they would do something once we landed. They will attack us soon and use those dragons to burn our ships and stop us from fleeing."
Aegon nodded at Jon's words, as it was something both of them had thought about. "They will try to ambush us in the Kingswood, no doubt," Aegon added. "Perhaps as we try to cross the Wendwater River."
"Indeed," Jon said. "We must utilise this opportunity to our advantage. Our army must swiftly advance into the Kingswood, engaging their forces in a decisive clash. The closer we are to them, the greater the threat their dragon fire poses to their own troops."
"A risky move," Aegon noted. "Those dragons can destroy us if we aren't careful."
"We cannot emerge victorious in this war unless we are willing to take risks. Remaining on the shore would only result in being cornered between the enemy and the sea; although our scorpions may offer some assistance against dragons, it's too risky. We cannot be the ones being attacked. We need to be the ones attacking," Jon replied, his thoughts rushing back to his mistake during Robert's rebellion. Yes, he knew he was taking a big gamble ongoing on the offensive. But at the same time, they had no other choice.
Their strategy involved isolating both threats, as it was the only path to victory. The first step was to swiftly and preemptively attack the enemy army; defeating their army would then enable them to concentrate solely on the dragons. Naturally, this was easier said than done, but it remained their sole means of guaranteeing success. There wasn't going to be another chance for this. Everyone understood it, especially the Golden Company.
"So, is it in the hands of the gods?" Aegon wondered out loud.
"No, it is in the hands of their king," Jon quickly interrupted. "You're going to lead them. No conqueror has ever been given their title freely. They had to earn it, and now it's your turn to do so. Just like your ancestors, this is the moment to etch your name in history."
The young Targaryen, Aegon, comprehended the meaning behind those words. He was aware that destiny had been calling his name for quite some time. Aegon had been meticulously prepared for this very moment—to claim the Iron Throne and restore his family's legacy. He held a firm belief in his mission, truly convinced of his rightful destiny. How could he not be the one destined to sit on the Iron Throne? The idea of losing or dying was absurd to him, almost comically.
"I'll not fail. I will not. I cannot fail," Aegon said softly before he looked back. "Captain Harry Strickland, prepare the men. The moment we touch shore, we move."
"Of course, your grace," the captain of the Golden Company nodded, smirking all the while.
Aegon once again glanced at the shore and knew destiny was calling him, or so he thought.
The Iron Island was a harsh place where neither the weak nor the strong thrived. Survival was the only goal for its inhabitants, as their entire culture remained trapped in the past. Slavery, pillaging, and violence were the means by which they solved problems and asserted their worth. However, as the world progressed and evolved, the Ironborn stubbornly clung to their outdated ways, refusing to embrace change.
It was time for them to be removed, erased, sacrificed, or do anything else necessary to make the Iron Islands more useful for the future.
However, for Stannis Baratheon, it was a simple act of absolution of his house's past mistakes—Robert's weakness in leaving Balon Greyjoy was a mistake he came to amend.
"My lord," Melisandre arrived at the deck of the ship. Yet, neither of them could see. Clearly, there was heavy fog around them, clouding any vision. Still, Stannis knew they were close to the islands.
"Lady Melisandre, what has the fire shown you?" Stannis asked, still not moving his eyes from the heavy fog in front of him.
"A Kraken being pierced," Melisandre replied, as those words made Stannis frown.
"Pierced?" He asked back, not understanding those words. "What does that mean?"
Melisandre reminisced about her dreams, in which the flames unveiled mere fragments of mystifying imagery—a perplexing mix of an umbrella, raging fire, a tumultuous storm, and crimson-stained waters. These chilling visions had the power to frighten anyone, but Melisandre was no ordinary soul. Instead, Melisandre took her time trying to understand those visions. However, Melisandre was sure they would have a huge victory soon.
"I can't say, my lord. But victory is near," Melisandre added, which was sufficient for him.
"I suppose that would be enough," Stannis replied.
Soon enough, there was a bell ringing. "Sails! Sails!" A voice rang loudly. "My lord! I see Iron Born flags!"
Emerging from the thick mist, a series of blazing orbs ascended through the sky, mercilessly pummelling the boats in their wake. The flames engulfed some unfortunate soldiers, incinerating them alive and driving them to desperately plunge into the unforgiving sea. In the midst of this pandemonium, Stannis remained undisturbed, his demeanour resolute and unflinching.
"My lord, the Ironborn are getting ready to board our ship!" Ser Davos gasped for breath as he joined the others on the deck. Inhaling deeply, he took in the sight of the hundreds of Ironborn ships that had seemingly materialised out of nowhere. The drums ring and echo across the air, followed by their piercing screams.
"Good. Now we know where they are," Stannis declared. "They know that if we land, it is over. They'll try to stop us in the sea."
Stannis strode down, his gaze fixed firmly on his soldiers. He was a man of few words, his face devoid of any discernible expression. However, the intensity and determination in his eyes matched that of Tywin's steely countenance.
"No retreat, no surrender. The Kraken's days are over. Kill them all and overcrowd this drowned god's halls."
Those words were all that Stannis's men needed to hear. The simple gaze of their lord, unmoving and unafraid, filled them with bravery. Soon, they all began playing their drums, screaming back, and getting ready to fight.
"Lady Melisandre, you should be below deck," Stannis said, but Melisandre did not reply as she stared up into the sky.
"There won't be need, my lord. I am well protected," Melisandre replied, and Stannis frowned deeply. But before he could reply, the sudden movement of their ship being attacked by one of the Ironborns made him focus on his task ahead. Melisandre's focus went back to the barely visible sky; it was morning, and the cold she felt was not normal. She shouldn't feel this icy feeling of being watched. But Melisandre felt that there was something up there, something utterly dangerous, watching them. But there was also a sense that she was actually safe against the dangers of battle for some unknown reason.
And Melisandre was right, partially, in anycase.
From high above, Shalltear hummed a little too loudly. The misty morning obscured her view, but she didn't mind. Watching wasn't necessary. Her task was clear—to eliminate the Greyjoy bloodline and wipe out the inhabitants of the Iron Islands, discreetly, of course. Her mistress intended to uproot them entirely, and Shalltear was more than willing to carry out her wishes.
Still, there was a bit more that she had to do. "So, that's my lady's relative? He had quite the expression." Shalltear mumbled before an Imp approached her.
"Lady Shalltear, we are ready to begin," the Imp said. "We have our agents across the islands. Only Pyke remains."
Shalltear nodded as she began to think back on her lady's words and plans. "Well, began to cleansing. Leave no evidence."
"At once, lady Shalltear!" The Imp said before flying away.
Shalltear chuckled softly, her fingers toying with the edges of her umbrella, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She couldn't help but recall the strict set of rules she had been given, all in an effort to control her powerful Blood Frenzy. The thought of disappointing her lady on her very first task was the last thing she desired. But still, she was excited to begin.
"I won't let you down, my lady," Shalltear whispered. Soon, however, she felt a strange sensation in the air. Her skills started to activate, piquing her curiosity. She wondered what kind of creature could be capable of triggering her defence abilities. "Mm, very interesting."
Shalltear gazed out over the sea, her eyes narrowing as she peered at the water beneath. To her astonishment, she spotted something staring right back at her. With a smug smirk, she exclaimed, "Ah, now it all makes sense. What an unexpected surprise. I believe this endeavour is about to become quite entertaining."
The battle of the Iron Islands would soon become a bit more chaotic.
Author's note.
- I am having so many problems with Fanfiction . Net. It's amazing how bad this page is currently. I am not receiving updates or PMs. And currently, it is locking my emails out. I have this "Email Delivery Problem Report" and I have done everything to fix it, but nothing.
So, please follow me on Tumblr if something happens to this account. I hope nothing happens, but just to give you all a heads up!
