Adrian

"What is on your mind, my Hand?"

Adrian glanced over at the looming form of Ultron as he approached where Adrian was standing at the rail and he called upon every skill he had in not shuddering. He had managed to stay his hand when it came to the Tyrells, never once giving into the urge as he bowed to suddenly leap forward and stab Mace Tyrell in the throat. He could do the same with his new… king.

'As wrong as he feels to me,' he thought as a bit of seaspray struck his face. Out loud he said, "Nothing, your grace. Merely… pondering."

Ultron was pleased with the honorific. It was something Adrian had figured out rather quickly, that the spirit liked when people groveled before him. But-

"Oh wonderful and mighty King Ultron," a lowborn Valesman sailor said in a simpering voice. He was crawling on his belly like a serpent, eyes cast down to the ground as he wiggled towards them, voice thin and reedy. All on the boat had witnessed Ultron's power and had been quickly cowed into provided the two of them passage. "Mightiest of the mighty. Grandest of the grand. My King eternal."

Ultron merely stood there.

"…bringer of justice and righteousness to these savage lands," the man said, clearly trying to call upon the memory of every grand title the village septon had ever said to describe the Seven in his attempt to kiss Ultron's silver ass. He kept his forehead pressed to the wooded deck, eyes closed as his mouth continued to spew out every lofty title he could think of.

Finally Ultron brought his foot over to the man and tapped it three times upon the deck. The sailor glanced at the… boot? Foot?... before at once leaping at it and kissing the metal. Ultron glanced at Adrian, a bemused little smile on his lips, before motioning with his hand for the sailor to rise.

"What might I do for you…" he rolled his hand, motioning for the sailor to speak.

"Grig, your grace," the sailor said quickly.

"Grig. What might I do for you?"

"The captain says we are anchoring point."

"Very good." Ultron smiled at that, his ghostly features showing every twitch of his skin and muscles despite him not actually having either anymore, just the appearance of them. He reached over and patting the sailor on the shoulder and to Adrian it looked like the man was about ready to cum on the spot. "Thank you." He let his hand lay on the man. "I wish you to look me in the eye."

The sailor, trembling, tilted his head up, revealing tears running down his cheeks even as he smiled.

Ultron's hand glowed and the man had a moment to gasp before his body was flash-burned, reduced to a smoking ruin that fell to the deck and half turned into a cloud of smoke.

"I was talking to my Hand and I do not have time for your wasteful prattle," he said simply, the other sailors quickly getting back to work. Ultron turned back to Adrian and let out a put upon sigh. "I truly hate it when people waste time, you know? I am very busy."

"Of course, your grace," Adrian said.

"See, that's why I like you, Hand. Others would have screamed and wailed seeing that… you understand that a king must do such things. That is a rare sense of clear vision… you don't find that often in the world."

'I also know you'd do the same to me if I threw a fuss,' Adrian thought to himself. Instead he stated, "It would only waste your time if I began such dramatics."

"Exactly," Ultron said with a smirk. "Now then… what was it you were pondering?" While he kept his tone light it was clear that he wanted an answer. No dismissal. No deflection. The truth.

"Why did we take the ship?" Adrian asked simply. "We both can fly… and I know that my wings alone are quicker than this vessel."

"And I am faster than you," Ultron replied with a nod; he needed to say that, Adrian could tell, but only for his own peace of mind. "You are right, of course. We could have made this journey in a quarter of the time. Though…" he paused, glancing at Adrian, "you would have forced us to stop, so you could attend to your human needs."

"True, your grace," Adrian said, seeing no reason to deny that or pretend he hadn't noticed the dig at his fatal flaw of being ALIVE. "But we could have easily taken an inn for that. Once or twice at most."

"Yes, you are right again," Ultron stated. "That would have been far more practical. But something I have learned, Hand, during my time in King's Landing, is that sometimes a King must sacrifice the practical in the name of the impression." Even though Adrian didn't say a word in response to that Ultron launched into pontificating. "A king can do everything correct, make every right decision. Lead their people to a greatness that will be written about until the end of time… and still find the smallfolk jeering them because they don't wear fine robes or eat the most grand of meals. For all the talk people make of their hatred of the wastefulness of lords and ladies the truth is that they NEED them to be better than them. Just as a man will always choose a beautiful whore who has never laid with a man and doesn't know not to use her teeth when suckling at his cock over one with a few wrinkles but who can bring about grand pleasure… so too will people flock to a king who LOOKS kingly rather than the one that behaves so.

"One only has to look to their history, Hand. Aegon the Dragonbane was a simple man who cared for simple things. And while he is remembered for the death of the Dragons he still ruled Westeros fairly. He saw the debts created by the Dance wiped away, King's Landing rebuilt, and the maesters write that he was even handed in his judgments. And yet he is seen as a failure by the smallfolk because he did not enjoy balls and wear fine silks. The same with Aegon the Unlikely. He was scorned the moment he got the crown because he was seen as too… common. Even by the commoners! They hated that he wasn't dripping in gems and fine wears like his brother Aeron Brightflame… nevermind that Aeron was utterly mad and died drinking wildfire.

"Meanwhile Aegon the Unworthy managed to cling to power for far too long because he gave the impression that he deserved to have it. It was only because he allowed his body to bloat out that the whispers began. Mark my words, Hand, if he had died handsome and young the maesters would still throw their fits but the smallfolk would weep for him. Because they are stupid fools who care only for petty things. And they want their lords and ladies and kings and queens to have those pretty things because… well…" Ultron gave a shrug. "If they don't have them and still can rule… then the smallfolk must look upon themselves and realize that the only reason THEY don't have such things is because of their own weakness."

With that he reached out and tapped the railing with a single finger.

"A king must travel in style. Even if I am the first to fly…" He chuckled at that.

'Except you aren't,' Adrian thought to himself, adjusting his coat as a strong cold wind suddenly came up over the Narrow Sea. 'The Targaryens flew their dragons… Jaehaerys and Alysanne traveled on dragon back all the time, sometimes with only a single guard, sometimes all alone, from castle to castle. Despite your claims that this is being done for others… you like being able to march around this ship and terrorize the crew.'

He had seen evidence of that before. The Night's Watch Recruits, including Yoren, had been kept in cages after their capture, watched over by servants who were paid well, and had the fear of Ultron put into them, to ensure that while cared for there was no chance of escape. Ultron had delighted before they left on their journey in visiting once a day, reminding them all that he could kill them quite easily. The pleading, the cringing… it fed him no differently than a hearty meal would feed a flesh and blood man. It was his supper, the terror and the adulation of the people.

"Besides," Ultron said, drawing Adrian from his thoughts, "impressions will be needed with who we are dealing with next."

Adrian raised an eyebrow at that. "You haven't told me who we are coming to recruit." He looked out past the churning white waves towards the icy lands that lay before them. There was no port they would be pulling into… there was no port for as far as the eye could see. Not here.

Not in the Lands of Always Winter.

"There is a creature here… one of great and terrible power… I wish to make him part of my court, so he might aid us." Ultron leaned forward. "And he will bring terror to my enemies."

'Of which there are so many,' Adrian thought to himself.

It took another hour for the ship to reach the point that Ultron had selected, based on the latest of reports that they had received from a Northern fishing vessel that Ultron had scoured of all information, resources, and finally life itself. Northern vessels disappeared all the time, especially in the autumn months when the weather at sea could suddenly turn deadly. No one would search for the men who had been turned to burning corpses. Looking out Adrian saw the landmark the captain of the doomed vessel had spoken of, which looked like a cow's skull with its nose pointed towards the sky. While Adrian didn't know exactly who they were chasing after he had learned that whoever it was had put terror into the souls of the wildlings, driving them with fire in their feet to move South. Near the rocky landmark there would be a village that was one of the wildling strongholds, few that they were so close to the wall, where they hoped to hold out.

Ultron was hoping that it would serve as the perfect bait to lure in their man.

Adrian quickly donned his gloves and despite his anger at Phineas for getting him in this mess he had to admit the work the man had done was impressive. Where before it had taken a complex rig to get his wings on, with them strung up with rope and needing an entire pulley system to get them into place before he could take mental command of them, the secrets Ultron had shown the tinkering genius had allowed him to take the Vulture King's harness and turn it into something truly beautiful.

The entire device could now curl in on itself to become a pair of simple gloves. While unable to find dragonbone Phineus had shown them to be lesser than what he could accomplish, using a blend of metals to create the same structure that granted flight, with the benefit that the wings were far thinner and thus allowed him greater flexibility in how he used them. They'd also gained a green tint thanks to the metals and while Phineus had suggested that he could try again to get them to be black Adrian had waved him off; he could manage rather well with emerald.

Adrian gave a single thought and the wings unspun, extending out to nearly 12 feet long when he stretched his arms out wide. The sailors quickly hurried away as he crouched before he leapt from the ship, taking to the air as the wind sliced across his form. Below him he heard a rumble and looked back to see Ultron following him, his own flight having caused the ship the violently rock. If they sailors finally found the nerve to protest Ultron's disregard for them Adrian didn't know, for they were already out of earshot… or at least he was.

'Who knows with a spirit?' he thought to himself, adjusting his flight slightly when a sudden gust pushed him to the right. 'How much can he do? See? Know?' That was the terrifying thing with Ultron, which left Adrian sleepless many nights: he simply didn't know what the man could do. If he could even be considered a man. 'He doesn't sleep. Doesn't eat. He just keeps going, relentless in his scheming.' That's what truly worried him… he had no idea just how to interact with the spirit. How to handle him and his plotting. 'With others I can use my own experiences to guess how they might do things. But… how do you deal with a dead man who has abandoned all human needs other than a lust for power and a craving for revenge?"

Finally getting to land didn't bring much comfort when it came to the cold. The winds were still swirling around him, worming their way through his clothing, finding every little hole and loose spot like a skilled butcher wiggling a blade along the ribs of a pig. And knife was the right way to think of it, for even the slightest touch of the frigid Northern air brought with it a stabbing pain that caused him to grit his teeth. He had been prepared for the cold when he had thought he was going to end up the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch but this was different; mostly because Ultron demanded he dress in a way that 'pleased him'.

Another case of practicality being shunted aside in the name of presentation.

'But the North isn't one that cares much for how grand one looks. They are a hard people because this is a hard land. Ultron is setting himself up for failure if he believes fine clothing are the answer to winning over whoever we are seeking out.'

They didn't have to fly much further once they reached the shore. There was a small river that led to the ocean and upon that Adrian could see in the distance a village. If this was the great last refuge of the wildlings then he would have hated to see what they lived in normally. There were no shield walls or even fencing to protect them, the people rather choosing to simply take great tree trunks that they had clearly harvested from the nearby forest and sharpen one end into a point before driving them into the ground at an angle. The entire thing had no real sense of structure, with the logs just randomly being pounded into the ground, with some far too close to one another so that they almost touched.

'A waste… but perhaps a smart move,' He thought as they drew closer. 'A pattern is one that anyone can figure out, if they have the time to study it. But randomness… there is a strength there.'

Yet even as he thought this he saw that the barrier wall and is haphazard construction had done nothing to protect the village in the end. A settlement that size should have had several fires burning, both for warmth and for the needed uses for the flames. The drying of leathers, the boiling of water, the cooking. But there were no fires going, not even smoke to show where they had once been. There was nothing but the snow and the little wooden huts.

"I think we might be too late," Adrian said as he moved to hover next to Ultron, looking down upon the village. "I think they are all gone."

"Oh no… they are still here," Ultron assured him with a smirk. "You just have to know where to look."

Adrian frowned but followed after his king, setting down on the ground, feet sinking into the deep snow. No one made a move to greet them nor did he see anyone try and shift and hide themselves from the two flying beings. That told him that there was no one in the village because unless each and every one of them had been trained by the finest masters in stealth their reactions would have been flight or fight. It was simply how people were. He had seen it often and not just when he had flown into merchant camps on one of his raids. People were naturally curious and worrisome, wondering at the new and different or loathing it and seeing it as a danger. That always gave them away, especially if they were startled. They would lean out too far in order to see the new arrival, or tense before fleeing, terror guiding their movements.

To have nothing…

"Well?" Ultron said, waving at the village. "Go find them for me. That is your duty as my Hand."

Adrian merely nodded, glad for his mask as he didn't want Ultron to see the glower he was shooting his way.

'Its too quiet,' he thought to himself as he began to make his way through the village, the only sound he was able to hear being the shifting of the snow as he trudged through it. He retracted his wings even though his every instinct screaming at him that something was very wrong.

The village honestly reminded him of the Tombs. People talked about how lovely it was, coming there to pay their respects to the Tyrell ancestors. They would mention how they thought that a tomb should be a dreary, sad place but his home was so wonderful and beautiful and how blessed he was to have it. Adrian had always been forced when he was younger to hold his tongue, knowing that his father wouldn't be gentle with him if he told the fawning old lords and ladies what he truly thought. That the 'beautiful quiet' they found so enchanting was delightful… when one was able to leave whenever they wished. When it grew too oppressive for them they were able to simply travel to some other place, enjoying their feasts and their balls and their tourneys. But one didn't dine lavishly with bands playing and hundreds gathered at the Tombs. No… one had to be respectful. It was a place for the dead…

Adrian froze.

The dead.

'You just have to know where to look.'

Suddenly Adrian began to notice things he hadn't before. The buildings were standing but he could see where damage had been done that did not match up with the normal wear and tear one would have expected from the elements. Slashes and gashes in the wood, doors pulled away from their frames, leathers that sealed them up against the cold ripped from the hooks that secured them in place. He glanced in one of the huts and saw the remains of a meal and near another was a weapon made of iron, so crudely made that he couldn't tell what it was supposed to be only that it was flat and heavy, but it had been left in the snow without a care. While in Westeros this wouldn't have been seen as a problem, as even many poor farmers would have seen little use for such a tool, Adrian knew that for the wildlings such a thing could spell the difference between life and death. It wouldn't have been abandoned like that.

His foot suddenly hit something large and heavy.

Crouching down Adrian stuck his hand into the snow, already knowing what he was going to find. With a heave that had his muscles aching he yanked up his find, a flurry of pinkish snow heralding the corpse he dragged up from the drift. It was a woman and he knew at once her death hadn't been pleasant. Her face was twisted into a scream and she'd been slashed open from her left hip, across her chest, and to her right shoulder. Sharp broken bones peaked through dark muscle that had been left frozen by the cold. One of her organs, Adrian couldn't tell which one, fell from her stomach as he shifted her, dangling from her body like the fuzz balls on a knitted shirt that had been worn a touch too long. While there were no good ways to die her's had been a far worst way than most.

'Not an animal,' he thought to himself as he reached into the chest cavity and touched the wound. 'Its too clean… but I doubt there is anything this far North sharp enough to slice through her this easily.' It would take well made castle steel to do that kind of damage. 'And its not from any blade I've seen.' All weapons left a mark; he'd learned that when he'd studied to become a maester. An axe cut differently than a sword which cut differently from a spear. And different swords and axes would leave marks unique to their design. A sword from the Braavos and the Reach and Dorne would all leave cuts that were vastly different from one another, allowing someone trained to see such things to know exactly what had caused each wound.

And as Adrian stared at the body… he found she had been sliced open by something he'd never seen before.

"There are more of them around," a voice said, causing him to spin around and tense. There, sitting on a stump, was a man with dark hair, his head turned so Adrian could only see him in profile. "All under the snow. What killed them… likes to hide the evidence. Wildlings keep coming here, seeking refuge. So they wander in and don't realize that the dead are all around them." The man glanced at him. "Same with you, I imagine."

Adrian took a step forward. "And what, exactly, killed them?"

The man turned to reveal that his left eye was just an empty socket.

"Me."

And with that red goo suddenly burst from the hole in his face.

He let out a sound that was half scream and half laugh as the tendrils rushed out of the socket, ripping and tearing at his flesh like spider legs made of metal. More organic spikes shot out of his skin before collapsing, covering him as he rose up, body rapidly gaining another foot or two in height; it was hard to tell with the way the man was lurched forward. His face seemed to twist in on itself with a sickening wet sound, teeth and bits of skull rolling like the world's most vile flower blooming. Finally from the figure's back burst several larger tendrils, each one ending in a sharp point. The end result was a creature that looked like a flayed demon that leered at Adrian.

"...you don't seem that SHOCKED by all this!" the creature said in a high pitch cackle as it took a step forward. "Normally people are screaming and shrieking when they see me!" He began to prowl around Adrian, his wide toothy smile stretching all the further as he looked Adrian up and down with consideration. "I can't decide how I feel about this! ON one hand I so do LOVE the screams they make when they see me… almost as wonderful as when they begin begging for their lives only for their whimpering to turn into cries of agonizing pain!" He let out a long deranged laugh at that. "But on the other hand… it is so nice to be able to think without having to deal with their mewling! Allows me to hear my own thoughts!"

He paused, tilting his head.

"Huh. I want to hear you scream." He took another step towards Adrian, who remained in place. He held out his right arm and his fingers merged together before stretching into a long red ax head, far larger than any that had ever been made. Even the Mountain would have had trouble lifting up an axe that large. But the massive red creature before him merely cackled and turned his left hand into a sickle. "But I have to ask… why aren't you trembling in terror?"

"I've led an interesting life," he said before he fully unfurled his wings and launching himself into the air.

That caused the demon to laugh. "Oh! Oh this is good! You might actually make me work up a sweat!" With that the tendrils on his back sprouted smaller spines that he began to fire at Adrian. He dove down and past a building, hearing the spikes tear through the wood as the creature tried to bring him down. He caught out of the corner of his eye one of them drive through the wood, the hooks at the end clearly designed to rip and tear if one tries to yank them out. "Yes! Yes!" he cheered, growing more excited. "Keep it up! But just remember… no matter how hard you try the ending will be the same as it was for everyone else! CARNAGE!"

"So that means for you your ending will be a bloody death!" Adrian snapped as he flew up high before diving down with the Northern sun at his back. While it might have been a weak light it was still enough to blind the demon below him, allowing him to twist his wings around him as he went into a corkscrew, feathers tearing and slashing into the flayed creature. Twisting around he saw that he had hacked off several large chunks of the demon, leaving him with a hole in his side just smaller than a wine barrel.

The demon just looking down at the wound before throwing back his head and letting out a shrieking laugh, the bits of him that had fallen off reduced to puddles of hissing red goop while more tendrils, thin like thread and ending in red hooks, launched out from the wound and began to pull at his flesh, forcefully dragging and stretching it all until the wound was completely resealed.

"Now you're catching on!" he said before, with inhuman speed, he rushed as Adrian, swinging his left hand right at his head. His wings at once wrapped around him, forming a hard shell that blocked the blows. Adrian crossed his arms over his face, the sound of the blades scraping and scratching at his wings filling the air. "Oh, I do love treats like this! Crunching on the outside, soft and screaming on the inside!"

Red tendrils began to appear through the cracks and crevices between his feathers, expanding out and slowly forcing the wings apart. Thickening, working their way in further… and growing sharper and spikier as the demon realized he could just pierce Adrian right there in his shell.

Anyone else would have struggled, trying to squeeze the feathers tighter, fought desperately to keep him out.

Adrian though did what he always did in his life.

He went left when all others went right.

"Well…" the demon said in surprise when the wings suddenly opened wide, causing him to stumble slightly when he found the force he was applying wasn't actually needed. Adrian let out a weak pant, dropping his head."That-"

Adrian slammed the wings shut right as the creature reached to grab him, slicing its hand off at the wrist. The demon let out a scream but Adrian was already moving, shooting himself up into the air, kicking up a plume of snow to blind the bastard.

"That hurt!" the demon cried out, looking at his stump… before regrowing his hand. "Oh, can I have another father?" He turned his hands into whips and struck them hard against the snow, sending up his own clouds of white. Adrian frowned, wondering what he was doing… only for his eyes to go wide when he saw a corpse come flying at him from the cloud. He lashed out with his wings, cutting it in half, causing old blood and bile to splatter all over him as he did so. "Heard Ser Gregor Clegane did this fighting the Iron Man! Of course the ones he was throwing were alive… I would have kept some kicking if I knew you'd be showing up!" He hurled two more but Adrian just dodged them, rising a bit higher. "Come now pretty bird, why don't you want to be near your Nuncle Carnage!?"

"You're welcome to come up here," he called down, really hoping the bastard couldn't fly.

"Up, down, side to side… it doesn't matter! I will still tear you into pieces! Just up to you and how annoyed I am just how alive you are when I do it!"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to interject," Ultron said from Adrian's right. His helm was up, covering his face, and the leering opening of the helm that looked so much like the red demon's own smile glowed before he fired a beam of raw energy that struck Carnage right in the shoulder. The creature let out a howl of pain, falling to the ground and writhing as Ultron continued to blast him. The flesh of his form bubbled and popped before retracting to reveal the man Adrian had been dealing with before. "Come down, Adrian… he won't be a problem anymore."

"I'll show you a problem-" Carnage snarled only for Ultron to blast him again, causing him to cry out in agony.

"Interesting… it seems that my energy blasts are able to harm him far more than they would a human. I suppose whatever he's bonded with is weak to it."

"Bonded?" Adrian asked, watching as Carnage tried to claw his way towards them. He wasn't getting that far though, seeing as he could only move one arm well at the moment.

"There are two of them sharing one body. Euron Greyjoy and… whatever it is that allows him to do what he does."

"Euron… the fucking Crow's Eye?" Adrian twisted and glared at Ultron. "You want to fucking recruit the Crow's Eye!"

"Yes, I do," Ultron said. "He has talents."

"He's a psychopath."

That made Ultron laugh. "Oh, who isn't!" He moved towards Greyjoy, tilting his head in consideration. "But even the deranged have their uses." He squatted down, hands wresting on his knees. "Tell me… what is it you long for?"

"To tear you to shreds!" Euron snarled, tendrils bursting from his right palm and striking Ultron in the chest.

There was soft 'tonk' and then nothing. Even Euron seemed confused by the lack of… anything.

"Beyond that," Ultron said with a casual sigh, like he was talking to a mutton-headed field hand. He lightly brushed his hand over his chest, forcing Euron to retract the tendrils back into his body. "Come on now, there must be something else you desire. Something beyond the here and now. I've heard all about you, Euron Greyjoy… and seen even more during my brief… sleep." He chuckled at that. "The most skilled tactical mind the Iron Islands ever produced. Had you any sense of loyalty to the Dragons or the Stags… and they any common sense… you would have been made Master of Ships and helped them bring about a new age of brutal command of the seas. You thought twelve steps ahead. You even managed to stay a step ahead of Thanos."

Adrian frowned. 'Thanos… Natasha mentioned that name…' His eyes went wide as he suddenly remembered when she had used that name… and how pale she had gotten when discussing the Night's King. 'He has dealt with Thanos!?' He stared at the man on the ground and felt his blood freezing in his veins. 'What is he getting us into?!' He mentally screamed as his gaze turned towards Ultron.

"Even this village… though small and barely meaning anything… shows you know how to plan! How to come up with a strategy to get what you want! Yet… I can't believe all you want is to cackle as you kill a few wildlings who would have died anyway."

"Do not dismiss my work!" Euron snarled, lifting up his head and narrowing his one remaining eye. "I am learning the secrets of death in ways that Thanos will never understand!"

That made Ultron laugh again. "The secrets of death? That's what you want?" His helm split and folded, revealing his ghostly features. "Is that all?"

Euron stared at him for a LONG time, mouth opening and closing without any words passing through his lips. Finally, like a pilgrim having encountered one of the Seven, he raised his hand up and touched Ultron's shoulder.

"…how?" he whispered.

Ultron smiled. "Join me and I will tell you all I've seen. What lies beyond. All I ask is one thing."

"And that is?"

"The brutal deaths of my enemies… the Lannisters, the Baratheons, the Arryns, the Starks-"

At once Euron had his head pressed to the ground. "My king," he whispered, though a mad giggle bubbled up from his lips.

Ultron nodded at that. "Very good. Prepare yourself… we make for my ship." He paused. "Don't kill the crew until they aren't needed anymore. Otherwise you'll answer to me." Euron lifted his head and quickly nodded, sprinting off to… somewhere, Adrian didn't know. He looked at Ultron who rose up and let out a sigh of disappointment. "He is not the man I was hoping for."

"He's insane."

"Very much so," Ultron admitted grimly. "And far worse than he was before. There was always madness in Euron Greyjoy but it was controlled by a will of steel. Others might have believed he was a creature of whim but I saw that he had a plan for everything. He restrained himself… did not allow his actions to be governed by flights of fancy. For as depraved and wild as he could seem he was a genius. Almost as smart as I. But now…" He shook his head. "The creature he has bonded with… that hasn't helped with his mind. It is cracking like glass and soon it will shatter. You saw it in your fight, yes?"

"He was too wild with his attacks. He flailed about like a child trying to fight against their nursemaid."

"Exactly. There were brief glimpses of skill but… the power of that creature… it is addictive and Euron does little to try and fight the cravings."

"Then why are we bringing him with us?" Adrian asked. "He is a liability."

"One I have proven I can destroy easily," Ultron retorted, amused. "Do not doubt that if it had merely you here delivering my message he would still be trying to kill you. But… he knows of MY power. And power must respect power."

"I don't like it," Adrian said softly. "He is a sword with cracks and rust."

"Indeed. But even the broken have their uses, I have found. Euron, Carnage, whatever he wishes to call himself… he can still serve a purpose. As part of my Small Council-"

"The Small Council?" Adrian asked in shock as Ultron began to walk towards the edge of the village, clearly expecting Euron to find them.

"My maester," Ultron replied. "My wise council in the ways of death and pain. He is an artist in such things. Or perhaps my Setpon. That might be better. The leader of the new Faith: glory to me… death to the rest."

Adrian didn't like that… didn't like that at all. It was madness to believe that Euron Greyjoy could be of any use to them and putting him on the Small Council…

"Adrian?" Ultron said, turning towards him… and allowing his helm to form once more around his head. "You are my Hand. You advise me. You tell me what I need to hear, good and bad." Though he could no longer see his face Adrian could tell from his tone however that he was glaring at him. "But never contradict me in front of another again."

"Understood, your grace," Adrian said at once, feel the energy welling up in Ultron and knowing that if the king attacked he would die.

And then it was gone and Ultron chuckled. "You did well… very well! Far better than I expected! I thought I'd need to rescue you but you held your own. I am proud that you are my Hand." He clapped his hand on Adrian's shoulder and the man of the Tombs forced himself not to wince. "We are going to do marvelous things together."

Adrian knew that to be true.

He just wondered, with the likes of Carnage, if Westeros would survive such marvelous things.