Chapter 4:
The Wolf, The Lion, and The Dragon
After making his way back to King's Landing, the self-styled king couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. He had Jon Snow and the Night's Watch tentatively on his side, and even the wildlings were coming around to the idea of working with him. But he knew this was just the beginning.
"Alright, you sorry sacks of medieval shit," Negan announced to his advisors as soon as they were back in the Red Keep. "We've got work to do."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "And what work might that be, Your Grace?"
Negan grinned, a wolfish expression that made more than one advisor shift uncomfortably. "We're going to build an army that'll make the Doom of Valyria look like a picnic."
He paced the room, tapping his war hammer against his leg rhythmically. "First things first - we need dragonglass. Lots of it. Tyrion, I want you to get in touch with Stannis Baratheon. Tell him we're willing to negotiate for mining rights on Dragonstone."
Tyrion's eyes widened in surprise. "Negotiate with Stannis? But he's-"
"A royal pain in the ass, I know," Negan cut him off. "But he's also sitting on a mountain of the only thing that can kill those ice fuckers. Make it happen."
Next, he turned to Varys. "Spider, I need you to do what you do best. I want eyes and ears in Essos, particularly around our favorite Dragon Queen. And while you're at it, see if you can track down a certain exiled knight. Goes by the name of Jorah Mormont."
Varys nodded, his face a mask of calm curiosity. "May I ask why, Your Grace?"
Negan's grin widened. "Let's just say I've got a feeling he might be useful in the near future."
As the meeting continued, Negan laid out his plans - fortifying the North, preparing for mass production of dragonglass weapons, and even the beginnings of a strategy to deal with the White Walkers.
When the advisors had left, looking equal parts impressed and bewildered, Cersei entered the room, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"What game are you playing, Joffrey?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous.
Negan turned to her, his expression suddenly serious. "The only game that matters, dear mother. The game of survival."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You think you know what's coming, but you don't. The dead are marching, and they don't give two shits about our little power struggles. It's time to think bigger."
Cersei's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of fear crossing her face before she masked it. "And what would you have me do?"
Negan's trademark grin returned. "I'm glad you asked. We're going to need every ally we can get. I want you to reach out to the Martells in Dorne. It's time we buried the hatchet - preferably not in each other's backs."
As Cersei left to carry out his instructions, Negan turned his attention to his next move. Cautions still about Cersei, he knew that she wouldn't go without a bark and so far she was obedient. He knew she would not comply. Or leave Jaime far away from her bed. Still...
He knew that sooner or later, he'd have to deal with Daenerys Targaryen. But first, there was another matter to attend to.
In the depths of the Red Keep, Negan found Qyburn in his laboratory, surrounded by bubbling concoctions and strange instruments.
"Your Grace," Qyburn said, bowing slightly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Negan's eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and danger. "I've got a little project for you, doc. How much do you know about creating weapons of mass destruction?"
Qyburn's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I... have some knowledge in that area. What did you have in mind?"
Negan leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to create something that'll make wildfire look like a campfire. Something that can turn an entire army of the dead into ash in seconds."
As Qyburn's eyes lit up with scientific curiosity, Negan couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. The pieces were falling into place, the board was set, and he was ready to play the game of his life.
Later that night, as Negan stood on the balcony of his chambers, looking out over the city, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself.
"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Catch a dragon by the toe. If she burns you, let her go. Eeny, meeny, miny... moe."
The game was changing, the stakes higher than ever before. But Negan was in his element, thriving in the chaos. Let the White Walkers come, let the dragons fly. He'd be ready, with a grin on his face and his war hammer in hand.
As he turned to go back inside, Negan paused, his hand on the door. "Bring it on," he said to the night sky. "I'm just getting started."
Later that night, Negan, still in his role as Joffrey, was poring over maps of the North when Cersei burst into his chambers, her face a storm of fury.
"What were you thinking, bringing that Stark girl here?" she hissed, slamming her hands on his desk.
Negan looked up, his trademark smirk in place. "Well, hello to you too, sunshine. Care to be more specific about which part of my brilliant plan has got your knickers in a twist?"
Cersei's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Arya Stark. Running free in our castle. Have you lost your mind?"
"Oh, that," Negan chuckled. "Relax, Mom. I've got it under control."
"Under control?" Cersei's voice rose. "She's a threat to everything we've built. I want her gone, or I'll have the guards remove her permanently."
Negan's smile vanished, replaced by a look that made even Cersei take a step back. "Now listen here," he growled, rising to his full height. "That 'threat' you're so worried about? She's our key to the North. So you're not going to touch a hair on her little wolf head, got it?"
Cersei opened her mouth to protest, but Negan cut her off. "I said, got it?"
After a tense moment, Cersei nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But what's to stop her from trying to kill us all in our sleep?"
Negan's grin returned. "Leave that to me. Now, how about you focus on more pressing matters? Like, say, our alliance with Dorne?"
As Cersei left, still fuming, Negan called for Arya to be brought to him. The young Stark arrived moments later, her hand never far from Needle.
"Alright, kid," Negan said, leaning back in his chair. "How'd you like to go on a little adventure?"
Arya's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What kind of adventure?"
"The kind where you get to see your brother Jon and maybe learn a thing or two about fighting the dead," Negan replied. "I'm thinking of sending you to the Wall."
"Women aren't allowed at the Wall," Arya pointed out.
Negan's grin widened. "Who said anything about going as a woman? Ever heard the song of Brave Danny Flint?"
As he recounted the tale of the girl who disguised herself as a boy to join the Night's Watch, Negan could see the wheels turning in Arya's head.
"You want me to pretend to be a boy?" she asked, a mixture of excitement and wariness in her voice.
"Got it in one, kid," Negan nodded. "It'll be dangerous, no doubt about that. But it'll also be a chance to train, to prepare for what's coming. And to be with your brother."
Arya was silent for a long moment, considering. Finally, she looked up at Negan, determination in her eyes. "When do I leave?"
As Negan laid out the details of her journey, a messenger arrived with a scroll bearing the seal of House Targaryen. Negan's eyes gleamed as he broke the seal and read the contents.
"Well, well, well," he muttered. "Looks like the Dragon Queen isn't interested in playing nice."
The letter was polite but firm – Daenerys Targaryen had no intention of allying with the Lannisters. She wanted the Iron Throne, and she was coming to take it.
Negan chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea what's coming."
He turned back to Arya, who was watching him curiously. "Change of plans, kid. Looks like we're going to have to accelerate our timetable. How do you feel about meeting a dragon before you go north?"
As night fell over King's Landing, Negan stood on his balcony, war hammer in hand, staring out at the horizon. The game had changed once again, but he was ready. Let the Dragon Queen come with her fire. He had ice, steel, and a few tricks up his sleeve that this world had never seen before.
"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe," he sang softly, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. "Catch a dragon by the toe. If she burns you, let her go. Eeny, meeny, miny... moe."
The board was set, the pieces were moving, and Negan was ready to play the game of his life. Winter was coming, but so was he, and he intended to win.