Wars are not won just through weapons and armies; as a demigod, Nico should know this intimately. Money, allies, and a stable base of operations are also helpful, which is why he found himself in the office of the 'Prince of Pentos.' That and because he was never all that good at facing his emotional problems head-on. His fight with Daenerys, still fresh on his mind, hasn't allowed him to face her yet.
The Prince broke him out of his musings. "Why are you here? How did you even get a meeting with me?" he asked as he took in the Prince of Death's worn clothing and half-fed physique. Compared to Nico's drab clothes, the Prince was a walking fortune with his gold-accented colorful garments, which looked ridiculous in his opinion.
"I have my ways." Nico didn't want to tell the Prince about his ability to travel through shadows yet.
"That still doesn't tell me anything about your reason to visit." He was weary but had false confidence in his six guards right outside the door.
"You will give the Targaryen's money, men, and a few ships when the time is right to strike Westeros. No sooner or later than we need." Nico knew he was playing a dangerous game. Percy was now a lord and had powerful friends who were known for, a surprise to no one, honor and loyalty. His friend was building an army in the North, and he had to do his part in Essos. The Gods dropped him in front of the Targaryen for a reason, so here he is, helping a naïve but kind Princess ascend to a throne made of melted swords.
"Now, why would I do that? As far as I can see, you have no armies, money, power, or friends. What hope do you have on taking the throne from the Baratheon rule?" he asked outwardly, amused but clearly seething on the inside at Nico's insolence and disrespect.
"You mourn your mother. What would she say if she saw you now? I feel her death waning on your soul. I can allow you to see her again for a small price." Nico has learned something over the years about what truly is priceless. Hades isn't just the wealthiest god due to his claim on the riches in the earth, but because he has access to a resource, almost anyone would sell their soul to obtain the dead.
"W-w-what! You little shi-" the Prince began as his mask of calm indifference fell away to rage before he composed himself again. "Get out," was all he said after placing the mask back on. Nico's only response was to release his hold on the spirit he summoned only minutes prior to his arrival in the Prince's office. Suddenly, darkness began to seep from the shadows as if they were attempting to reach for his majesty. A cold wind blew into the room, chilling the mortal to the bone. Nico watched in fascination as the mortal felt a faint whisper of his mother's lullaby and a gentle stroke before Nico banished the spirit. Now, the Prince of Death knows firsthand how it feels to have your loved ones used against you, especially with his memories of Minos still fresh. The Prince of Pentos had just lost his mother seven months back, and now, Nico is doing precisely what Minos had done to him. With a deep breath, Nico commits to the act, determined that the price of breaking a man's heart is worth the lives they save from whatever threat Percy was sent to stop.
"I can show her to you in full. I might even let you speak to her for a day, or you can make an enemy out of me. I promise you if you choose the latter, it won't be men you fight." With the final nail in the coffin, Nico slowly disappears into shadows, adding a dramatic flair.
"Wait up, Percy." Came from the gruff voice of Ned as he walked briskly towards the Sea Prince. The Lord of the North looked troubled and distracted, almost as if he debated telling Percy something.
"As you are most likely aware, John doesn't feel welcome here in Winterfell." Eddard continued, clearly deciding not to tell Percy about what was troubling him.
"That is because you lot are archaic and backward when it comes to bastards. Especially Catelyn, she is a good mother and a decent person to all but John." Percy barked out, frustrated for the young boy's sake.
"Well, I was with another woman." Eddard looked slightly to the left, and his heart began to pump his blood faster. Eddard lied about ever sleeping with another person; how did John come to be without Eddard cheating on Catelyn?
"Ned? Is John your son?" Percy asked gently, not wanting to spook the poor man. Eddard was lying about John's lineage for a reason, and he doubted it was because of anything nefarious. It was for not, though, because Eddard snapped back, clearly petrified, "Yes! We will not discuss this again!"
"Alright, I won't ask. However, you clearly had a favor to ask of me regarding John." I switched the conversation, knowing when something was a losing battle. Eddard calmed down at my topic change, though still weary.
"John needs someone who understands him and can train him to handle the future. I fear his fate is bleak, and I need someone to prepare him for it."
"You want me to take him to Sea Dragon Point," I stated, knowing what Eddard hinted.
"Yes."
"I ask something of you in return then. I also wish to take Arya; she isn't like Sansa, her mother, or any lady in Westeros. I want to train her in the art of the blade so she can be prepared for anything."
"Catelyn would never forgive me. Arya needs to stay here and continue her education."
"Ned Arya has the untamable spirit of a wolf, and you know it. One of the only ways we will get her to take her education seriously is if I make it a condition for her training. I saw how she yearned for the blade. She watched me from a window or balcony whenever I was on the practice field. She watches the sparring, the guards, and other men like a starving man looks at food! This can only be good for her." I knew where to push with Ned, especially regarding his girls. He has been remarkably lenient with them after the scare with the assassins.
"I'll talk to Catelyn." Stark sighed in resigned frustration, knowing how stubborn the demigod could be. He was right, of course, for Percy's plan, if Eddard didn't relent, was to inform Arya herself about his idea. Gods know how insistent Arya would be at the prospect of learning the art of the blade. She constantly asks Percy questions about his swordsmanship, and the only thing stopping her from asking for direct training is probably the watchful eye of Septa Mordane.
A single week was all Percy was able to push back his departure date for Aryas's sake. In the end, halfway through the week, he had to use his secret weapon to add a layer of pressure. As such, Arya's nagging could be heard through the halls as she pleaded with anyone who would listen to help her convince her father to change his mind. He didn't know why, but Arya reminded him of many young demigods. Due to this constant reminder of his lineage, he couldn't allow himself to leave Arya behind to be another victim of High Society.
"Please, Please, please, Father, I must go." Arya was nagging her father again for the fourth time today. Four of the eight Starks were currently glaring at the demigod over the dinner table.
"Arya for the last time. NO!" Catelyn seethed through her glare at Percy.
"Why? Sansa has her needles, Robb has his lord duties; what do I have?" Arya complained.
"A lady isn't meant to fight. She is meant to lead the house when the man is at war or otherwise occupied." Sansa answered instead of her parents.
The fiery young Stark shot back, "I don't want to be a lady. I want to be a knight."
Percy snapped; his experiences rendered him extremely progressive compared to this world simply by wanting women and men to be given equal chances. Constant reminders that he was effectively sent to the medieval ages kept rearing their ugly heads. "What happens if they breach the walls? Will the women just scream while their families are butchered? The Gods sent me down here for a reason, and it wasn't just to play lord and eat grapes. The threats that warrant me won't care whether you are a man or a woman. My people don't have the luxury of giving weird arbitrary rules to society because they hunt us equally."
"I still don't know… I am aware of your predicament, but this world is different from yours, and we have certain duties that we must fulfill." Catelyn answered in a more tender tone.
"I promise I won't ever run away from my duties again, and I will take them seriously." Arya pledged but was clearly losing hope.
"Percy, are you serious about the threat of potentially breaching the walls of Winterfell? You aren't just saying this to win the argument?" Stark looked terrified when he looked at his girls, and I knew he was thinking about the assassination attempt again.
With a serious face, I met Ned's and Catelyn's eyes. With an equally serious tone, I stated, "I am not usually prideful, but I will state that I would never be sent against a threat of any magnitude other than extinction level. The threats I take out would wipe your armies off the face of the planet without any issue. So, any help is wanted and needed, no matter how small."
"You still don't have any idea what this threat is?" Catelyn asked now, equally afraid as her husband.
"I have narrowed it down, and I am confident, based on the information I have received about your world, that it has to do with something that should no longer exist coming back to haunt humanity. My current theories are the Deep Ones, the Others, Dragons, Merfolk, whatever took out Valyria, or the Shadowlands. I am meeting up with someone along the way to Sea Dragon Point that should give more context to the issue." The Starks looked startled at the prospects, especially with the Others. I continued, hoping I could get Ned to see reason.
"I know that it is unprecedented to train a woman in the way of the blade, and I respect your authority when it comes to your children. However, we live in unprecedented times, so if we wish to survive, we must adapt. The people of Bear Island train both men and women in fighting. This is because they need both genders to defend their home from various threats from the land beyond the wall. Be like Bear Island and teach all your children to defend themselves." The expressions from everyone in the room told me I had won this battle. Eddard looked reserved, Sansa shaking with fear, Catelyn resigned, and the others looked like a broad mix of those three.
"Okay. Arya will go with you to Sea Dragon Point to learn swordsmanship and anything else you wish to train her in. She will still learn how to be a lady and be expected to eventually become one when she is of age." Ned stated after a while, causing Arya to jump for joy and rush to her room to begin packing.
"Percy, she is not to be trained to be a knight. We are giving her permission to train only in self-defense, and you will take another Septa with you to finish Arya's training." She spoke sternly, breaking no argument before continuing to Sansa, "You will begin your training with Sir Cassel." Much to everyone's surprise, Sansa didn't even argue evidentially. Percy laid it on too thick, even if he didn't necessarily lie. Catelyn was unaware that her definition of 'self-defense' differed vastly from Percy's.
That week, they traveled through Wolfswood, and it was one of the longest in Percy's life. He had forgotten mortals don't have the same endurance that demigods do. As such, he nearly road the entire party ragged and was only stopped when John came to remind Percy that they had women and children amongst them. It didn't help that Snowball had an unmistakable bloodlust for violence and would charge any mortal who strayed too close. If he didn't know better, he would swear Snowball was one of the man-eating Mares of Diomedes; he checked there were no razor-sharp teeth inside the horse's mouth. One of the stable boys who made the mistake of feeding Snowball nearly lost a hand to the mad horse's bite. Percy had to heal the poor boy's hand using his lineage of Poseidon just so the boy wouldn't lose it to infection. After that, the people around him began to whisper and chat amongst themselves whenever he walked by, and even a few times, he heard them calling him 'god blessed' or 'sent by the gods.' Each hushed word about him brought a familiar yet unwanted weight, one that he felt whenever the stares from fellow demigods bored into his back.
When he felt the inhuman eyes watching him from the forest, ones different from the Old Gods, he jumped at the chance to escape the rest of the party. He informed the two Stark children where he was off to and denied offers of guards before heading into the woods alone. The woods had a dark and eerie feeling as he trudged through the ancient foliage toward the closest body of water in case of a fight.
"I don't think it would be fair if we talked near a body of water, demigod." The voice sounded whimsical and high-pitched.
"I wouldn't have to use it if you're not a threat." Percy sassed back to the surrounding forest, which seemed to be missing any sign of a little nature person.
"Ahh, you think I could actually kill the great and powerful Percy Jackson. The man who single-handedly fought gods, titans, and giants. I am honored you think me to be such a powerful warrior." Percy found himself liking this child of the forest. Her sassy remarks paired well with Percy's spirited attitude, so he humored her and sat down where he stood.
"Oh, so we are just going to speak here, are we now? Whatever happened to you not trusting me?" She spoke as she seemed to appear from the dense underbrush. She was no taller than an eight-year-old with hazelnut skin, large blood-red eyes that watched him with an ancient form of wisdom, large ears, and a three-fingered hand with black claws instead of fingernails. Her leaf-green hair was decorated with red and green leaves from weirwood and oak. Her clothes were made from leaves and vines and seemed to help her blend into her surroundings better.
"I figured you were right. Enough with the banter; even though I enjoy it, I sought you out for a reason." Percy said, getting more serious with the short woman.
"I assume you wish to ask me about the threat in the north?" The Westeros native grew solum and serious to match Percy's mood.
"So, the threat is coming from the North."
"Yes, I cannot tell you more, for I am bound never to speak of it again."
Percy grew frustrated with this revelation because, of course, fate couldn't make one quest easy for the warrior. "Why?" he growled as his divine side nearly overtook control.
"I made a grave mistake, and my people have cursed me as recompense."
"What exactly is stopping you from speaking to me about the threat?" He was irritated, annoyed, and just wanted to return home to his brilliant pregnant wife. Maybe get a cheeseburger and sleep in a decent bed.
"We have been forbidden to talk with humans as we are few, and you are many. Twice, two different clans have slaughtered my people, and twice, you have won." Percy calmed down at the new information. He felt for these people mainly because he remembered the stories Old Nan told him one night. The Children were attacked first by the First Men and second by the Andals a couple hundred years later.
"I am not human. My race has been known for our connection with nature and ability to live harmoniously with nature spirits. At camp, Satyrs and Nymphs alike help us survive, and as thanks, we help protect the land where their trees grow." The silence grew as the red-eyed lady sat there contemplating for what felt like hours. Finally, she stood up abruptly to proclaim that she must speak with her people and that they should meet up tomorrow.
Varys was frustrated and annoyed; however, like usual always kept a perfectly calm poker face in Kings Landing. His birds he sends to the North keep turning up empty on the reason for Eddards generosity towards the new Lord Jackson, and none have managed to get close enough to his 'lordship' to be of use as a spy. He did get a little nugget of information that gobsmacked the eunuch with two separate reports of the man healing grave injuries in minutes. One report from a maid who saw Theon Greyjoy gain a mortal wound that would leave any man dead, but the next time she saw Greyjoy, he was at practice instead of being a corpse. The other time was with the cook he sent to spy on Percy. She reported seeing Percy's horse nearly bite off a man's hand and then proceeded to watch as her new lord healed the man's injuries in a creek. Who or what was Percy? If he continues to allude to Varys, it could pose a risk to all the carefully laid plans he has set forth for Westeros.
Then there was the problem of the dark-haired boy who guards the Deanery's fiercely and never seems far away even if there was no travel of him before. Illyrio has given him shelter, and reports from his friend have chilled him to his bones. If they are to be believed, two powerful sorcerers are in the game now, one who can command shadows and the other who can heal with water.