Hello everyone; sorry for making all of you wait for such an update, but I truly wanted to write something worthwhile and long. This is pretty much two chapters. 10K words! Still, I would love to hear what you guys think of this! Now, on the next set of schedules!
-The White Lion of the Red Keep (One more chapter)
-Overlord: The Demon Empress (One chapter)
-The White Wolf of Winterfell (One Chapter)
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Chapter 19
The sound of waves crashing, of the sea making itself known, was no bother to Galadriel, who stared at the island before her. Dragonstone, the once place of birth of the man who changed Westeros, Aegon The Conqueror. The walls were high and mighty, and the stone was turned black by the fire of the Dragons who helped build it. Or so it was said, but Galadriel had to admit that it was an impressive castle, intimidating and quite beautiful as well. However, there was something that she wanted to do before anything else. Galadriel's agents have spent quite a lot of time searching all the caves and even walked towards the inside of the volcano chamber.
All to find out if any Dragon Egg was lying around, still left inside such a forgotten place. At first, her agents returned empty-handed. They didn't find any Dragon Egg, much to Galadriel's disappointment. But, after they swore not to fail her ever again. They discovered a secret passage leading to a hidden path out of the castle and led up to the Dragonmont. After leaving the walls of Dragonstone, the road becomes complicated for anyone to follow, but it leads to a secret cave high above the mountain, which seemed to be built not even 100 years ago, perhaps less. Then after destroying a few walls that blocked the entrance of the said cave. There was a small tunnel leading to yet another wall that seemed to be where the volcano's heart was pulsating hard and strong, and a large river of lava was blocking anyone else from venturing inside. An altar of sorts awaited her. Or that's what her minions told her.
Galadriel told her agents to leave it be for now as she would check the place herself. Hopefully, she'll find those Dragon Eggs she wanted. Still, putting that aside. Galadriel's goals were slowly moving without anyone realising it.
"Still, not enough," Galadriel whispered to herself but soon noticed her uncle approaching.
"Your Grace, we are arriving at Dragonstone," Stannis said with his usual cold and harsh voice.
"Please, uncle, you don't have to call me Your Grace at every turn," Galadriel replied, trying to warm the heart of the Lord of Dragonstone. And it didn't work, as Stannis' serious face only made it know what he thought about such advice.
"Right, I get it," Galadriel replied, huffing. "Your Grace it is..."
"You must never forget that you're the Queen now. How you behave and treat others reflects how everyone will treat you," Stannis stated as Galadriel sniffed annoyedly.
"I been treating people with gentleness and love, yet even now, my brother wants me dead," Galadriel replied, half-joking. "Guess I've been doing something wrong."
"Perhaps. But you still need to realise that those who aren't on your side are your foes. And you need to destroy them. Being loved by the commonfolk is one thing; ruling over the nobles who want you gone requires something more than hugs and kisses."
Stannis looked at Galadriel, who kept on staring at Dragonstone. He found himself having a hard time trying to see to decipher what his niece was thinking. Those golden eyes mystified him, making him wonder what else they saw that he couldn't.
Geez, now I wonder why Loras used to say he has the personality of a lobster. Galadriel thought, a bit amused. She decided to keep looking forward, trying to avoid looking at his zealous serious uncle.
"I agree. I can't keep thinking and wishing for the best. People won't do that for me. So, for that, I'll become a harder steel. My father told me not to be afraid of showing up in Baratheon's fury. And I won't."
Stannis heard those words and seemed satisfied for now. Galadriel also believed the same. It was time for her to show up a bit more teeth. But also wondered if there would be more she could do to achieve her goals. Planning was always good, but sometimes, improvising could lead to beautiful results. As well as fun. Everything was becoming more fun for her. The entertainment she was feeling as of late couldn't be described. She genuinely enjoyed the madness of war and everyone tearing each other apart. Still, hopefully, Galadriel's entertainment would not end anytime soon. She'll have enough time to be bored. Once she becomes queen of Westeros, there will be much work to do.
But before that...
"Uncle," Galadriel called as she glanced now at Stannis. "Father took your right as the lord of the Stormlands. You're the second oldest, and the mantle was given to Renly. He may have meant well by giving you the title of Lord of Dragonstone. But, the reality was different from the one presented to him. Or us today."
Stannis stared at his niece, the Queen. His face's expression said nothing. And even someone like Galadriel was having quite a hard time reading her dear uncle.
"And with that in mind, my words may not mean much now. But as my first action as Queen, I, Galadriel Baratheon, first of her name. Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Man. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Grant you, Lord Stannis Baratheon, your rightful claim as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and Lord of Storm's End."
Galadriel's voice took Stannis's surprise and everyone else who was watching. It was a mighty and powerful voice like a rumble of thunder, dangerous and potent. The voice of a Queen. The Queen.
Stannis stood there, looking at those eyes, and could see the same determination that was known of them. The Baratheons, and any doubt, he had before left his body. He then knelt before Galadriel, claiming his allegiance before all who dared to question his duty and honour. Let it be known that Stannis Baratheon would do his duty, no matter the cost.
"I, Lord Stannis Baratheon, swear allegiance to the only true Queen. And my blood, may my service help you sit on the Iron Throne or my death."
Galadriel smiled and chuckled. "No one will die today. Uncle. We will win."
Galadriel entered the Chamber of the Painted Table, where a large Westeros map lay before her. Like a big toy house, if she were alone, she would use those figures of knights and horses to play. But that could wait. Because she then saw a woman with red hair and red robes waiting for her.
"Your Grace, my lords," Melisandre smiled as she bowed at them. "Welcome to Dragonstone."
"Your Grace, this is Lady Melisandre," Stannis presented the Red Priestess with no more titles. In fact, he didn't want to explain to them honestly—especially Galadriel, who only tilted at the woman with strange-looking eyes. Melisandre smiled back at her, who also tilted her head. Galadriel did notice the choker on Melisandre's neck and the red stone on it. Interesting. Galadriel hummed deeply.
"You're the Red Priests? From Volantis?" Galadriel said, earning a curious look from Melisandre.
"You know where I'm from?" Melisandre asked with mild curiosity.
"Sorry, I only concluded it. I have heard about the large temple of the Lord of Light on Volantis. The Red Temple, and there, many priestesses emerged and priests, but no more."
"You know quite a lot, Your Grace," Melisandre replied with a satisfied smile.
"I just read a lot," Galadriel shrugged innocently. "There wasn't much to do while in the tower."
Melisandre's red eyes glanced up and down on Galadriel as she chuckled at the white-haired girl. The Red Witch was good at seeing more in people; few people could truly understand how different she was from the rest, while the glaring eyes from the Queensguard were warning her not to get closer. Melisandre only smiled as she took Galadriel's hand.
"Your golden eyes. When I heard people talking about losing themselves in it, I always wondered what they meant. But now, I can see it," Melisandre stared at Galadriel's eyes, those shining beacons of light on the night. Yet, as she glanced deep into Galadriel's eyes, searching for anything remotely out of usual in the princess. She could feel cold like never before. Then, she saw a glimpse of her shadows, being crushed by something or someone. Melisandre gasped, noticing she wasn't the only one staring at those eyes any longer. Those eyes were glaring at her now. Those deep golden eyes reflected something beyond, something she had never seen or felt.
Soon, Galadriel's eye flickered with something. Or so, Melisandre thought, and like a sudden strike of lightning, her body shook, leaving her a shivering mess.
What's this sensation of power? It's running in me! Melisandre's thoughts were cut short, but Stannis, whose voice snapped her back to reality.
"Lady Melisandre, are you alright?" Stannis asked as Melisandre realised she had held the Queen's hand for minutes while staring at her.
Melisandre nodded, still stunned, trying to understand what those sensations were, that vision of her shadows being destroyed. That sensation ran all over her body. She had questions, lots of them. And needed answers.
"You have power in your blood... so much," Melisandre rumoured at Galadriel, who tilted her head, quite entertained. You have no idea. The Queen thought, still looking at the red-haired woman. "My Queen, my lords and ladies. I shall retire to my chambers for the night."
Melisandre bowed as she glanced at Galadriel again before leaving the room. Everyone stared, confused about what just happened, especially Galadriel, who was amused.
"Oh, hopefully, I left a good first impression?" Galadriel joked slightly.
Stannis' mind only thought about what could be the cause of Melisandre's reaction. He has never seen her shudder in such an erratic way. Nor watching her being without words to say. However, Stannis knew Melisandre would try to find the answer in the fire like she always does. But the question remains. Would the fire's answer satisfy her curiosity? Her need to understand? That was hard to say.
Nevertheless, Stannis' mind moved to more important things at hand. "Your Grace, there are more important matters to attend to," Stannis said, leaning into the map. "There a war to fight."
Galadriel hummed as she did the same. Truth be told, she was entering a realm where she honestly didn't know much. Fighting on Yggdrasil, doing raids, and on tournaments was quite different from moving armies from one place to another. Galadriel's confidence in beating anyone on a one-on-one was high. She could adapt quickly to any other build in the game and deeply understood the game's mechanism. Galadriel knew precisely how much damage she could do in seconds or how much she could take. All of that, including items and abilities. Even leading a small raid was something she was confident in doing. But again, that was on Yggdrasil, on a game.
It was different from what was happening now.
Ah, Punitto Moe, I would have loved to have you by my side. Galadriel whined mentally, thinking about her dear friend and, personally, the person she considered the most intelligent person in Ainz Ooal Gown. And who was, frankly, the one who taught her everything she knew about strategy. He would have a field day if he were with her. Moving armies, open battlefield with cavalry and archers and knights. Castle sieging, with trebuchets and all of that. That type of strategy was the one Punitto Moe loved. But one Galadriel was not comfortable with.
I have read some of the books I have about medieval warfare. But... I have yet to gain experience in this. Galadriel hummed deeply as she recalled one of her conversations with Punitto Moe many years ago, back on Yggdrasil.
Use the knowledge of your logic, and morph it into a strategy. Use what you know about your enemy against him. Little things can shift a campaign. A large army can win a war but also lose it. Think about how much it takes to feed said army. How long it takes to move said army. If they are from different factions working together, they may turn against each other during stress. All of these things are important to know. Don't rush; don't be embarrassed to say, "I don't know." A good leader knows his limits and surrounds himself or herself with those who fill the gap he can't fill.
Punitto, I just wanted to ask you if you're going to do the Pumpkin Smash Even with us...
All of these things are important to know, Galadriel! THINK! VICTORY IS AHEAD OF US!
Galadriel chuckled internally at the memory. My sweet, Punitto, you were very passionate when discussing strategy and books. Galadriel thought softly. But there were truths spoken by him. Galadriel had no experience leading armies, and while everything around her was a twisted game. A simple means to an end. She truly wanted to learn things such as this.
"Uncle, Ser Barristan," Galadriel called as she leaned into the war table. "The war experience between both of you exceeds everyone else in this room."
Galadriel stated as both looked at each other, knowing that was true. "We know that Renly will march towards King's Landing and have a large force of 100,000 soldiers. Enough forces to storm the city. So, what can I do? I need your advice."
Ser Barristan and Lord Stannis glanced at each other briefly. At one point, both were at war against each other. But now they both served the same Queen. Life does have these moments of small ironies.
Ser Barristan looked at the map and hummed. "It would take him more than a fortnight to move such a host. And more to bring everything he needs to siege the city. And it would have to pass the Kingswood. There, I think we could do some damage. Small parties, hit-and-run tactics, making it harder for Renly's forces to move into the woods."
Stannis hummed. "I thought the same. Now that we have more considerable forces. We can arrange small attacks, burning the road, cutting threes, making it harder for the Renly's army to move in. It would give us some time to gather our forces. That is if such forces are coming."
Stannis then looked at Galadriel, who scratched her chin.
"How many soldiers do we have, uncle?" Galadriel asked as she stared at the map, liking the idea of guerrilla warfare. They are genuinely more thoughtful than I realised. I underestimated them. Galadriel thought, kicking herself for believing they didn't know what they were doing.
"Currently, we are 10,000 strong," Stannis said. "Some of the Stormlands lords joined us, as some of the Crownlands are still loyal to you, putting us in a better spot. But it's not enough."
"How many ships do we have, Lord Stannis?" Ser Barristan asked.
"Around 85 longships, and some other small pirate ships, which they'll help us as long the paid is good," Stannis drawled while glancing at Ser Davos.
"They can truly do serious damage to their supply line on the sea and make quick lighting attacks," Ser Davos added.
"Pirates... they have no honour," Ser Barristan muttered to himself.
"Yes, but they play dirty and will use anything to have a gap on their enemy."
Galadriel understood that the reach had the enormous numbers and could feed such an army without a problem. However, she also knew those in the Tyrell family weren't known to be "all in" type of people. The moment something isn't going their way. It would be the moment they'll pull out of the war. Meaning that if Galadriel could achieve massive victories and get her more allies. The Old Lady Tyrell would panic, kick her son's ass away, and immediately get Tyrell out of the sinking ship. Ah, lady of Thorns. You must be pretty anxious about this war ending fast. Galadriel smirked evilly, wanting to see her reaction once Renly loses the war. But not yet, let it play... let her believe.
"With Dorne's support, we may find a better grounding for us, but we must make sure to slow Renly as much as we can until we gather enough forces."
Stannis glanced at his niece. "Are you sure of their support, Your Grace? The Martell family share no love for the Lannisters. And you're one of them."
Galadriel smiled but nodded. "I know. But that's why they'll support me. They want me on their side for whatever endeavour they plan for the Lannister family."
"And yet you want to trust them? That's a naive way of thinking, Your Grace," Stannis asked her disapprovingly.
"What other option do I have, uncle?" Galadriel asked him now with a sigh. "We need allies. I know trust is not a word you hold dear in your heart. But that's what we need. Trust. A bit of faith goes along. I know. They hate the Lannister family. Believe me. However, they also want justice for their family. And to let everyone see it. They supported me because they expected a compromise for such justice."
Galadriel understood what hatred could do to people. She lived with a deep hatred for a long time. And vengeance was a thing she always fantasised about. Yet, the reality was another thing that came with it. The Martell knows the truth: taking vengeance on the whole Lannister house would be almost impossible if not genuinely devastating for all. So, instead of fantasising about an extensive purge of their enemies. They would take small bites here and there, taking on those who wronged them and only them.
Galadriel's spies allowed her to see that Doran Martell was that type of man. A patient one, a dangerous one. Still, he was a man she could reason with if it came to that. If not, well, that was for another time.
"If this is what you believed, Your Grace," Stannis replied, only muttering.
"Trust me, that's all I ask," Galadriel said, now holding a smile on her face. "Now, is there any possibility for the Redwyne fleet to cause us problems?" Galadriel asked as now Stannis looked at the map.
"They have the most extensive fleet in the Seven Kingdoms. But they have been holding back for some time. I believe they aren't thrilled to follow Renly as it is. So, if they do, leave the Arbor to assist Renly. They will only send a portion of their fleets towards Blackwater Bay. So, if that comes to pass, we can still face them on the sea."
"That's good. I trust no one else to have a victory commanding ships," Galadriel stated, looking at Stannis, who shrugged the compliment.
Ser Barristan then looked at the map and pointed at the river entering Kingswood. "There, we can use the Wendwater river to enter a small force to the Kingswood."
Stannis glanced at it and saw a huge opportunity to make Renly's army journey to King's Landing as miserable as possible. "We can have man destroying the Wendwater Bridge before Renly's forces enter the Kingsroad."
Galadriel then looked at Stannis. "Uncle, do you have someone who could smuggle soldiers in and out?"
Stannis glanced at Ser Davos, who nodded at his lord. "Yes, Ser Davos can do so without problems."
"We don't need to send many, just enough forces to confuse Renly and to take out small scout parties," Ser Barristan added as Galadriel nodded, then glanced at Mya and Gendry.
Galadriel wanted her siblings to experience real-life battles; this war was the best opportunity. Was she worried about them? Yes, obviously. But she knew that Mya and Gendry were above an average human, in the literal sense of the word. Besides, she'll always have eyes on them, ready to assist if things go awry.
"Mya, Gendry, I need people on the ground... commanding forces," Galadriel whispered. Mya and Gendry knew what she was talking about. It took no time for them to understand it.
"Your Grace," Gendry whispered, and Mya showed concern, not because them leaving to fight a war. But leaving her alone.
"Ser Barristan," Galadriel looked at the old knight. "I, like many here, don't doubt your abilities with the sword nor your commanding experience. But I can't risk your life on the open field. Nor can I do the same for my uncle. You both are essential members of my council of war. And I need people I trust on the ground."
"That's wise, Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked worriedly, knowing that if they left, she'd be left unprotected.
"Yes, Ser Barristan. Besides, I'll still have you," Galadriel smiled. "And, we can't afford mistakes. Mya's ability with the bow and hunting skills are unequal to anyone. She'll sniff Renly's scouting group like a bear hunting a dear. And Gendry's strenght and natural fighting ability will serve us well."
"We need leaders, Your Grace," Stannis noted as Galadriel chuckled.
"They'll lead. They have Baratheon blood in them after all," Galadriel said, which seemed to hush Stannis.
Mya sighed, and Gendry chuckled. "Said the word, Your Grace. We will make sure to ruin Renly's day."
Stannis looked at the two bastards and nodded. He knew what they could do in a fight. Stannis has seen it firsthand and doesn't doubt their abilities to kill. But it would be the first time they led. And that was different. If they are anything like Robert. Blood will spill. Stannis thought.
"Ser Davos, prepare a small fleet ready to depart."
"At once, my lord," Ser Davos stated.
"Ser Barristan, while Mya and Gendry both know Kingswood, you have more insight into the forest, as you spend quite a lot of time there during father's hunting trips. If there's any info you can give them, please do."
"Understood, Your Grace."
Galadriel smiled as her mind went to another task at hand. There was so much to think about, after all.
Back at King's Landing, Tyrion, current Hand of the King, while his father was still on the Riverlands enjoying the defeats of this current war, read the letter on his hand.
"Dorne and Stannis have declared for Galadriel. And some Lords of the Stormlands and the Crownlands. A good reasonable decision," Tyrion drawled as he glanced at his sister, Cersei, who seemed to be drinking even more than Tyrion these last days.
"This is not the time for jokes," Cersei hissed, sipping her wine like water.
"I'm not jesting, dear sister. Based on current affairs, following the princess is the most logical bet," Tyrion replied, almost boringly. "I wouldn't want Joffrey as my king."
Cersei stared at him fiercely, yet Tyrion remained sitting, almost enjoying the glare.
"Truly? Now you're content that our enemies are getting what they want? Galadriel is surrounded by people who want nothing but to use her to get what they want! Now, it is my daughter who you ship away!
Tyrion rolled his eyes. "She'll be safer in Dorne. Now we know this since Dorne declared for her older sister. And if I remember correctly, you conspired against your daughter to make Joffrey the King."
Cersei's mouth closed, not negating any of it. Tyrion knew, of course, that Robert made Galadriel the heir and next to the throne. He didn't even have to ask. Cersei was a horrible liar, and so was Joffrey. But the fact that Cersei didn't even deny it made him worry and a bit angry.
"Yes, I know how concerned you're for them," Cersei spit, but while it sounded spiteful and angry. There was guilt in her voice and even regret, which Tyrion noticed.
"It so happens that I am," Tyrion replied. "Myrcella is a sweet and dear girl, and Galadriel is strong and one of the most wonderful people I have met. And I don't blame them at all for you."
Cersei looked at her cup of wine and chuckled, a bit forceful. "I know... and now she's leading a rebellion against her brother."
Cersei simply laughs at her own misery. "She would have been the best ruler in all history. A queen whose name would have been part of songs and poetry hundreds of years from now."
Cersei could almost see it. Statues all over King's Landing, songs that would be sung in large parties boasting for the Queen. A wonderful dream.
"Then why?" Tyrion asked softly. "Why did you do it?"
Cersei glanced at him and couldn't honestly answer. "I don't know... maybe because I believe a woman couldn't rule. That's what I have been told all my life. Why should it change now?"
Tyrion sighed as he shook his head, hearing those words. Cersei's hatred of herself reflects in her actions. Honestly, I don't know if I should feel pity for her or laugh at her own stupidity. Tyrion took a deep breath and a sip of his wine.
"Well, with lucky, Galadriel's forces would be able to save us... in time."
Then, Cersei seemed to return to her usual spiteful self. "King's Landing can withstand any army. We have enough provisions to last two years."
"Mm, yes, but that was before the farms and crops from the Crownlands were burned in that attack. And our supplies have been getting lower fast. Especially with Joffrey's mercenaries, who are doing a great job creating chaos down the city."
Tyrion's have heard about those mercenaries' handy works. They rape, steal and kill without impunity, to the point that minor skirmishes between the Gold Cloats and them have been daily occurrences. Even Bronn has had a hard time dealing with them. And he was a mercenary.
"We can still survive until father arrives," Cersei said, trying to sound arrogant and prideful. However, the reality was different.
"Father is currently busy being humiliated by Robb Stark in the Riverlands. He's not coming to save us," Tyrion said, trying to get Cersei to understand their current situation.
"We can still hold until he is, and if Renly comes-"
"Yes, Renly will come, Cersei, be sure of that. And when he does, 100,000 men will flock to the city," Tyrion said, almost trying to knock some sense into his sister. "We need to prepare. He's going to attack us! What has Joffrey done in all this time?"
"The King is taking personal control of siege preparations," Cersei replied with mild courtesy. Almost enjoying making Tyrion angry. Although, honestly, this wasn't a fight with Tyrion she should be having. But Cersei wasn't known to be smart enough to realise it.
Tyrion was slowly losing his patience. "May I ask specifically what the King has in mind?"
"You may specifically, or you ask vaguely. The answer will be the same."
Tyrion stood there, looking at Cersei, who refused to meet his eyes. Believing it was a game of who was right and that she won.
"It's important we talk about this," Tyrion whispered, almost pleadingly. It was their lives at risk. And he doubted Renly would care to spare him at all.
"It's the King's royal prerogative to withhold informatio-"
Tyrion simply stormed out of the room, refusing to waste more time. He didn't need Cersei to tell him what the plans were. He had someone else for that.
At Harrenhal, Tywin Lannister was having the worst headache of his life. The last month has been challenging and painful. A reminder that no one was unbeatable. Not even him. And that young Robb Stark has been proving how wrong he was to underestimate him. However, now reading the letter in his hand, everything seemed to be worsening.
"Renly Baratheon has 100,000 men, and he is marching towards King's Landing," Tywin said as the rest of the lords watched him, bowing their heads, refusing to meet the eyes of the Old Lion.
"With those forces, he could storm the city..."
Tywin just stared at him, already knowing that. But one thing was clear: more than his forces were needed to face Renly on an open field, especially with Robb Stark behind his back, who would take any opportunity to march on the Westerlands.
"What about Robb Stark?" Tywin asked, feeling quite used to asking the same thing repeatedly.
"The Starks have overextended their lines. Now that summer's over; they'll have difficulty keeping their men and horses fed."
Tywin simply stared at the clown who had the misfortune to bear his house name.
"The Starks understand winter better than we ever will. The cold won't beat them."
"Our spies report growing discontent among the northern lords. They want to return home and gather the harvest before the crops turn."
Again Tywin just looked mildly annoyed at the other lords spewing things everyone knows to be obviously apparent. Yet, not something that would change the curse of the war.
"And I'm sure if those same spies snuck into our own encampments. They'd report growing discontent amongst the southern lords. This is war. No one's content."
Tywin took a deep breath as he watched the table where the rest of the lords sat. "We've underestimated the Stark boy for too long. He has a sound mind for warfare, his men worship him, and as long as he keeps winning battles, they'll continue to believe he is King in the North. So, how do we stop him?"
"We've worked through the night, my lord. Perhaps, we'd profit from some sleep."
Tywin just sat there, burning holes into the lord's head as he had any rest at all. "Yes, I think you would, Reginald. And because you're my cousin, I might even let you wake from that sleep."
Tywin's voice sounded like a lion waking up as the rest of the lords moved away from him. "Go. I'm sure your wife must miss you."
"My wife's in Lannisport."
"Well, then you'd better start riding," Tywin replied coldly. "Go. Before I change my mind and send her your head."
Those words were enough for him to stand up and leave the room immediately, staggering while Tywin screamed behind his back.
"If your name wasn't Lannister, you'd be scrubbing out pots in the cook's tent. Go!" Tywin's words couldn't truly reflect his anger and frustration. Not truly.
Tywin retook a deep breath, feeling anger rising up. Soon, the small girl, the cup bore, arrived ready to serve wine.
"No wine, water. We'll be here for some time," Tywin said, as the girl only nodded quickly.
The girl nodded quickly, as Tywin only stared at her. "Girl. Where are you from?"
"Maidenpool, my lord," the girl replied quickly.
"And who are the lords of Maidenpool? Remind me," Tywin asked, and the girl simply nervously glanced around, trying to find a way out. But she did reply to the question asked of her.
"House Mooton, my lord."
"And what is their sigil?"
The girl simply remained quiet as Tywin chuckled to himself. "A red salmon. A Maidenpool girl would remember that. You're a Northerner, aren't you?" Tywin asked this time with no games in his voice, as the girl simply nodded.
"Good. Now, one more time. Where are you from? Barrowton, my lord. House Dustin. Two crossed longaxes beneath a black crown."
The girl's response seemed to satisfy Tywin's inner ego, as he had caught the girl's lies red-handed. But that wasn't true. The girl in question, Arya Stark, was still undiscovered, much to her surprise.
"And what do they say of Robb Stark in the North?" Tywin asked as Arya frowned slightly, wondering where Tywin was going with all these questions.
"They call him the Young Wolf. They say he rides into battle on the back of a giant direwolf. They say he can turn into a wolf himself when he wants. They say he can't be killed."
"And do you believe them?" Tywin stared at those eyes of hers, looking for a flinch, for a nervous tick. But found nothing, as Arya simply stared back at him with the same cold eyes of his.
"No, my lord. Anyone can be killed."
Arya's words tell Tywin that if dead, come to her tonight. She'll be the first one to welcome it. Those types of eyes were of someone who had witnessed enough. But still, the thing was that the girl entertained Tywin quite a lot.
"Fetch that water."
Arya nodded, leaving the room, feeling the eyes of Tywin Lannister behind her back. When she finally left, she could breathe without a problem. Nevertheless, Arya was terrified of everything that was going on. How did she manage to survive so far? Arya had no clue. First, she had her hair cut down by a member of the Night's Watch. Then, Joffrey's men attacked the caravan she was travelling with. For what reason? No idea, but those mercenaries were on a rampage across the Crownlands and the Riverlands. Still, Arya couldn't escape the fate of being captured, and now there she was, at Harrenhal, serving water to Tywn Lannister.
What an adventurer.
"A girl says nothing. A girl keeps her mouth closed. No one hears, and friends may talk in secret, yes?"
Arya snapped back, staring at Jaqen, who was wearing the Lannister's armour and seemed quite comfortable in them.
"A boy becomes a girl," Jaqen said as Arya frowned.
"I was always a girl."
"And I was always aware. But a girl keeps secrets. It is not for a man to spoil them."
Arya still had quite a problem trying to understand how Jaqen spoke. It was unsettling, but at the very least, she was not entirely alone on Harrenhal.
"The armour... you're one of them now?" Arya asked, as Jaqen simply raised an eyebrow showing amusement. "I should have let you burn."
"And you fetch water for one of them now. Why is this right for you and wrong for me?"
"I didn't have a choice!"
"You did. We all did. And here we are."
Jaqen then smiled, approaching the small girl. "A man pays his debts. A man owes three."
"Three what?" Arya asked, staring confusedly at Jaqen.
"The Red God takes what is his, lovely girl. And only death may pay for life. You saved me and the other two I was with. You stole three deaths from the Red God. We must give them back."
"Give them back..." Arya muttered as Jaqen nodded.
"Speak three names, and the man will do the rest. Three lives I will give you. No more, no less. And we are done."
The realisation that came with those words made Arya anxious but at the same time. Three names, she could give, and their death would come. It was almost too good to be true. But Arya wanted to believe; besides, she had more than three names on her list.
"I can name anyone... and you'll kill them?"
"Yes... but one name, little girl. One name cannot be spoken."
Now, Arya frowned. "Cannot be spoken? What do you mean? You say you'll get the rest if I give you three names."
"A man has said. But, a man cannot touch that person, for she is untouchable. And shadows across this land linger in her back. Beyond the Red God's reach... or any other God."
Jaqen replied, and his voice was filled with dread, apprehension, and admiration.
"Who is that person?" Arya asked, making Jaqen chuckle.
"Don't worry, little girl. She is not your enemy, for now. Still, a man needs a name."
Arya wanted to know who the person was. But decided to let it be.
"I don't know his name... but they call him the Tickler."
"That is enough," Jaqen said, smiling, satisfied. "Go now, girl. Your master is thirsty."
Arya nodded slightly, unsure if anything would happen, before leaving.
Dragonstone's halls were as damp as they were depressing. But it made her feel quite devious and machiavellian if Galadriel was honest. It was a place where she could feel like the big evil villain of history. A sensation she found herself loving. Nevertheless, she put on her cloak and was ready to look for that chamber her agents told her about.
So with that in mind, Galadriel put on her cloak and walked towards the door, awaiting her, where Mya and Gendry were already there.
"Sorry for asking this of you two. But you'll leave in the morning, and I really need to do this," Galadriel said smiling, as her half-siblings sighed.
"Your wishes are our duty," Gendry replied tiredly.
"I don't think that's how it was said," Mya muttered.
"Does it matter?" Gendry said, huffing, as Mya just punched him on the shoulder. Gendry and Mya were ready to go at it again before Galadriel walked between them.
"Hush! We don't have time!" Galadriel spoke before raising her eyebrow, noticing the Red Pristes seemed to have wanted to talk to her privately during the night. What could be the reason for Melisandre wishing to speak with Galadriel alone? Galadriel could only wonder.
"Lady Melisandre," Galadriel called as the red-haired woman tilted her head, surprised to see her awake and out of her room.
"Your Grace, I was just wondering if I could have a few minutes of your day. However, it seems that you seem ready to... escape?" Melisandre said, looking at Galadriel a bit intrigued.
"No escape, just going to look for something. That's all."
"Something...?"
"Uh," Galadriel hummed deeply, not knowing what she should say. "I had a dream a few days ago. About a chamber inside Dragonstone leading deep inside the mountain, and I want to find it out."
"A dream," Melisandre rumoured, a delighted expression appeared on her face. "I see... I see. May I come with you on this search?"
Mm, the more, the better. It doesn't change much. I wanted Mya and Gendry to be with me, so they could see me potentially, epically and amazingly, finding Dragon eggs. After all, if what my spies told me is true, Daenerys Targaryen is ahead of me in that regard. Galadriel thought as she nodded, and soon enough, the small and strange group followed the Queen across Dragonstone to wherever they were going.
They went all the way done, finding some old doors and stairs, but it didn't take them enough to find the said tunnel and dwell there, going deep inside a place no one had seen before for a long time. Then, as they walked, they felt a cold breeze and noticed that the tunnel was leading them outside the castle. Galadriel hummed, watching the path lay ahead of her. A part of her felt amazed that such a tunnel system was still unexplored. It seemed to be far too valuable to be left untouched by anyone. But, perhaps there was a reason for it.
The sound of the winds and waves crashing into the island cliff was loud. But, the Queen's curiosity was still pulling them together to climb the rough mountain until they saw an entrance to yet another tunnel.
"How can this tunnel never been found before?" Mya grunted, helping Galadriel climb the steep rocky hill. "I mean, this road looks untouched by people for a least a few decades."
"Dragonstone is dark and cold. People rarely dwell in places lost to them. Especially when darkness swallows all," Melisandre spoke, smiling as she climbed. "Few dare to face the unknown."
"That's one way to say they were smart and we're stupid," Gendry muttered back, as Melisandre chuckled, having no problem of her own, using her hand to move higher into the mountain.
"The tunnel... it looks small, but it was made by a man," Galadriel noticed, watching the signs on the walls left by her agents, letting her know that was the right place. "Someone made this tunnel... it wasn't made by the volcano at all."
Galadriel could feel joy inside her, jumping with joy. Searching, adventuring, that was the thing she missed from Yggdrasil. The fear of the unknown raid to obtain treasures for Nazarick. That was something she loved dearly. And with joy, she entered the tunnel without saying much.
The rocky, wet, tight tunnels were rough enough if one added the smell of fire and ashes.
"That's an awful smell," Mya muttered, looking at Galadriel, who was moving slowly in the closed tunnel ahead of her.
"It's the sulfur emanating from the volcano up on the mountain," Melisandre said, not having a problem moving upwards wherever they were going. "Dragonmont's volcano is alive still. And its fire as brutal and clean as the Light of our lord."
"Light of our lord?" Gendry muttered, cleaning the sweat from his forehead. His metal armour was making breathing harder, and the heat was unbearable. But he wasn't someone to start crying about, especially when Galadriel seemed unbothered by everything. But that wasn't surprising. Galadriel's tolerance to the heat and fire was familiar to them.
"The Lord of Light's light ahead of any darkness, Gendry Waters. And we are all his children."
Melisandre stated as Gendry simply glared at her, hating being called Waters.
The group entered a small clearing inside the cave. A small roof hole allowed for some fresh air and light. Yet, they noticed a wall that seemed to be covered with bricks ahead of them. And not only that, humans' remains were leaning on it. Skeletons of poor slaves were forced to work in such conditions. They were still wearing some old ragged clothes, showing they were simply workers from some Targaryen lord long ago.
"Someone forced them to stay here," Galadriel whispered, watching the poor souls left in the dark, inspecting them. "They didn't die of natural causes. They were murdered. Look at the scars in their skulls and daggers arrows still there."
"Maybe one of the Targaryen wanted something to hide here, and no witnesses were allowed to leave," Gendry added while looking at the made-out brick and stone wall.
"The Targaryen had many secrets and were quite jealous to share," Melisandre stated, making Mya scoff.
"Bunch of mad cunts," the girl added, making Melisandre smile.
"A price to pay for keeping their bloodline pure. Don't you agree, Mya Stone?" Melisandre's eye made Mya uncomfortable, especially since it felt like the Red Pristes were reading her mind. A sensation she hated.
"There's something behind this wall," Galadriel muttered, knowing that the chamber was what awaited her. "Gendry, kick it!"
"Excuse me?" Gendry asked, confused and shocked.
"Kick the wall!" Galadriel ordered, glancing at her brother.
"Your Grace, my dear sister, I am glad you think I am strong. But... I'm not that strong!" Gendry declared while Galadriel rolled her eyes. I paid money for you! Kick the wall!
"Just do it, Gendry!"
"Yes, Gendry, what are you waiting on? Just show us your masculine strenght!" Mya added with a hidden smile.
"Of course, right," Gendry muttered as he positioned himself in front of the large rocky wall. Soon, he threw a powerful kick, shaking the foundations but not moving anything. Gendry looked at Galadriel again, who simply gave him a face of "again, please?" and Gendry, this time, put more strenght behind his feet and truly focus on doing more. And kicked it, the sound became louder, and the wall seemed to have slightly more damage. Galadriel would love to see if they had actually pushed the limits of a human being. How much was enough? How far could they truly reach? Galadriel wanted to see it. That's why she wanted to send them to war.
"Wait, Gendry, let me help," Mya added as she winked at Galadriel. Soon both half-siblings put all their energy into Baratheon's wrath and threw a powerful kick into the wall, finally breaking any resistance. Tumbling it down. Even Melisandre was shocked by the sheer physical power of both of them. There was something clearly missing there, and Melisandre glanced at Galadriel and saw a glimpse of a smirk. And almost expectation, like she knew what they were capable of, and was waiting to see more. That made the Red Pristes wonder more about the Queen with golden eyes.
"I didn't need your help. I had it," Gendry said, with a scoff, trying to sound cocky.
"Sure," Mya huffed. However, they all saw now that on the other side of the wall, a chamber was there. A large chamber, but that wasn't all. A lava river was starting from the corner of the room, where a gap was dripping the volcano's heart. The heat hit them all directly on their face, and the air felt venenous. It was starting to become unbearable, for them, except for Galadriel.
"Now we know why it was blocked," Mya groaned, covering her mouth as the room air seemed to leave slowly.
Even Melisandre couldn't compete with the heat, the sudden lack of oxygen, and the sulfur in the air. The raw heat flames emanating from the river of wild lava made her take one step back, realising this place was not for mortals like them.
"And so a chamber of death we found," Melisandre coughed, covering her mouth. "It seems that whatever the lord who ordered this place to be sealed had a reason for it."
The chamber was divided in two thanks to the river of lava. On Galadriel's side was nothing but melted rock and ashes. However, she could see a set of tiny little moulds of mud ahead of her. Could it be? Galadriel smiled excitedly as she practically ran towards it.
"Your Grace!" Mya yelled, wholly stunned and afraid. "Galadriel, stop! What are you doing?!"
"Galadriel!" Gendry tried to run after her, but the closer they got to that river of lava that started to burp lively, the stronger the heat became. Gendry knew about it all too well. He used to be a smith. The heat wasn't something he didn't know about. But what was current in front of them was too much. The flame, the smoke, the burps of fire. it pushed backwards.
"Galadriel, stop! Please!" Mya yelled frantically, almost throwing away anything just to jump and save her Queen, sister, and lover.
Galadriel rolled her eyes at the overdramatic screams. Fire, or lava, won't hurt her at all. Why? Because she was a Demon. A Demon Empress, specifically and fire, lava, or any of that nature, did not harm her. Of course, the only exception was [Holy Fire], but that was not the same. Galadriel put her leg down on the river of lava and then the next one. Everyone expected to hear a loud scream of suffering and pain. Gendry and Mya had seen their sister playing with fire, even some hot embers. They knew that usually, the fire wouldn't hurt her. But this was different. Entering into a lava pit, like a recreation pool, was different. But there she was, unharmed, and while her clothes were being burned. The queen remains visible unbothered by it.
"Don't worry!" Galadriel called back while everyone stood there, watching Galadriel waving around at them. The lava reached her knees, looking like she was walking in mud. But Galadriel kept on walking like nothing. Step by step, she moved across the river of lava. When the magma burst and piece of lava landed on her face or hair. Galadriel would simply remove it as if it was some sort of liquid substance and nothing more.
Melisandre froze as she saw the white-haired girl enter the lava river and walk in it like nothing. Galadriel's gown was burning, that was sure, but nothing was happening to her, which made Melisandre stare dumbfounded.
"How can this be..." Melisandre whispered, shocked. "Never in my life... I have seen something like this..."
Mya simply fell to her knees, as if the lack of oxygen made things more complicated for anyone to breathe. Galadriel's actions were making Mya almost have a heart attack. Not only was it beyond anything she ever thought possible. But was truly horrifying the feeling of almost seeing her getting hurt. Mya just couldn't fathom such a thing. "I can't... I..."
Gendry shared Mya's feelings too. Shocked, fearful of what he was seeing, and feeling stupid. "Of course, she can swim in lava... of course. What's next, Your Grace? You will tell me you can pull some wings out and fly?" Gendry yelled, sharing pain and relief.
Galadriel chuckled nervously as she reached the other side. Yeah, about that...
Galadriel stood up and showed her leg to them. "See?! Nothing!" Galadriel then turned around and approached the small muddy mould. Usually, she would be disgusted to put her hands in a place that looked like wet dirt. But she did, and after a few seconds of digging, she smiled brightly.
"I found them..." Galadriel pulled out three Dragon Eggs. She held them close to her chest like she had found the lottery. Which she technically did. I love collecting things! And Dragon Eggs is one of the things I wanted to have! But still, why were hidden here? Galadriel wondered deeply as she returned back, crossing the lava river like nothing. Her gown was truly dimming now, as much more of her body was being stripped away from any decency. But Galadriel didn't care. She was a like a child on Christmas.
"Look! I found them!" Galadriel said happily. Of course, Mya, Gendry and Melisandre were still quite shocked to see her just standing there, unharmed. Watching someone practically swim on lave wasn't something they expected to see, ever. But they did see three Dragon eggs.
One egg was of a silvery colour, of course. Once it was cleaned, it would look more clear. Another one had a reddish colour, like fire, and the last one was dark, like the night itself.
Galadriel only stared back at them and smiled. "Let's go back to Dragonstone."
Everyone in Galadriel's inner circle stared at the Queen, looking quite happy with herself as she showed them her new-found discovery. That was, of course, not saying much about the Queen's current state of attire. Her eggs covered her almost exposed chest, and her legs and shoulders were for all to see. Yet, Galadriel wasn't paying attention to any of that. Much to Mya's dismay.
"Ser Barristan, could you please, give me your cloak," Mya muttered as the old knight nodded, while Mya used to cover Galadriel's body, who was still quiet in her own little world.
"Your Grace, I would appreciate it if you save this adventurous trip for later in the future. We can't have our Queen hurting herself in any manner... or worse," Stannis drawled, and Galadriel could almost hear the same tone of voice when Tywin was angry but didn't show it. Galadriel coughed awkwardly but nodded.
"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. The dreams were too much. I had to do something about it," Galadriel lied. If she wanted to become a sort of symbol, or something more remarkable, not only being the "beloved princess". Galadriel had to achieve more extraordinary things. More to make people follow her. Becoming a sort of messiah seemed quite farfetched and strange. I don't know. Galadriel was just seeing what sticks on the wall. What proves to be more beneficial for her in the long run. And what would allow her to consolidate her power for decades to come.
I wonder if I'll grow older... That wouldn't be something that would happen to me. So... if I don't get older in a few decades, people will start noticing. What should I do about that? Galadriel hummed, deciding to cross that bridge when she arrived there.
But I could genuinely do something about it.
"I apologise, uncle... you too, Ser Barristan. I shouldn't have just left like that. Something could have happened."
Galadriel's words made Stannis and Ser Barristan sigh. But couldn't fathom what else to do.
"Where did you get them...?" Ser Davos asked, amazed, but soon noticed Mya, Gendry and Melisandre's faces. When the Red Pristes looked stunned, it meant that something had happened.
"Your Grace walked... among the fierce lava... as if fire, the heat, the nature of such thing was part of her," Melisandre stated, whispering the words as Stannis frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"That she literally went into a river of lava to get them," Gendry muttered loudly. Now, Stannis, Ser Barristan, and Ser Davos were all thinking they were jesting but the look on their faces.
"Lava... A river of lava. She went in a river of lava to get the Dragon Eggs," Stannis replied, carefully choosing his words. He glanced at Melisandre, who nodded at him, and her face, those red eyes, told him no lies about it.
"How...?" He finally asked, staring directly into Galadriel's face.
"I don't know... maybe is the Targaryen blood in me?"
"I never heard about any Targaryen being able to walk into lava," Melisandre spoke, watching those golden eyes in a new light. "That was not an easy feast. Magic runs in you... you're blessed with more than just the ancestry of the Dragon Lords. The blood of the dragon is in you."
Galadriel cringed mentally at how the woman was watching her. But, looking at it, the thoughts of using the Red Pristes to her advantage became a possibility for her. But, yeah... the blood of the dragon runs in me. Well, not really. Yet, I should genuinely use it. But how?
Galadriel thought, now wondering about the eggs on her arms.
I should think about it. And also, how do I hatch this thing?
Galadriel would think about the possibilities that lay ahead of her. She had a lot to think about.
Lys was one of the Free Cities renowned for the pleasures of houses, history and heritage. It was simply another different type of city together. Their people, the Lyseni, were known for their beauty and elegance. Their hairs were silver, and some shared the purple eyes of their ancestors, the Valyrian. Not to be surprised there, the Dragon Lords expect centuries making Lys their "vacation" sight of sorts. It was a fertile island with many riches.
And now, their fertile island had fertile slaves, as Lys was the breeding ground of the best sex slaves in all the world. But that's just a symptom of an extensive disease.
It was like any other, and the street was filled with the usual. Markets of food and slaves, whores on the streets showing travellers, merchants, or anyone their goods. But among them, an old man walked, seemingly ignoring everyone.
"My lord, wouldn't you want to spend a night with me?" A beautiful prostitute whispered as she latched her arm on the older man's arm. The woman soon noticed it was like she was hugging a brick stone. She caressed the arm and gulped, feeling pure raw muscles. This old man was a veteran of a war of some kind. A warrior, a knight even.
The whore could even admit that the man was incredibly handsome. Tall, the muscles underneath the clothes were really something else. And his clothes, the way he walked. It showed that he had high standing in society. Definitely a castle somewhere. Or that was what she thought.
"What do you say, my lord?" The woman whispered huskily, showing her enormous chest and pressing it on his chest. She smiled pridefully. No man or woman has been able to resist her. No one. Until he chuckled softly and gently pushed her away.
"My dear lady, I don't doubt any man here or abroad would decline such an invitation. However, I must regret, and forgive me if this comes as an insult, decline your invitation," the bearded old man replied, with such a sweet boy, with such tenderness, that the whore simply remained stunned for a brief moment. Before blushing, which was odd. She never blushes like that, never in her life.
But the man before her treated her kindly in such a few seconds that she was taken aback and had no idea how to behave.
"Please, my dear, take care of yourself."
The man bowed and left. The old man with white hair and a beard walked around the city streets, looking and humming deeply.
"Silver hair... silver hair... purple eyes, blue eyes. No white hair and no golden eyes."
He sighed sorrowfully, wondering where he was and how he ended up there. Nevertheless, he should find his way home, no matter the cost. However, as he lingers inside his head, a boisterous laugh made him turn to his side.
"I've told you, things are getting crazy in Westeros! War all over the place. I tell you, all sides are calling mercenaries. We can make good money!"
"We are not sellswords. We are smugglers. What the fuck are we going to do there?"
"Smuggle things? Just think about it. War is meant for us!"
"Eh, I don't know..."
The man scratched his chin as he heard the conversation. He decided to investigate a bit. Slowly he walked towards the two smugglers, who soon noticed the man standing before them.
"Who are you?" One of them asked, confused.
"I apologise for interrupting, but could you tell me more about this... war?" He asked politely, and those two poor smugglers only glanced at each other, wondering what to make out of this person. Still, they could see the man's expensive outfit. A lord, maybe, or a wealthy master. But that couldn't be. He had no slaves with him or anyone for that matter.
"From what I have heard. It's all a mess, the same as before. But, the last king, Robert Baratheon, made his oldest daughter the heir and next to sit on the Iron Throne. But his oldest son, who was supposed to be king, got mad and stole from his sister. And then, their uncle took up arms and decided to crown himself king. But if that was enough, a lord from the North of Westero decided to come down South and crown himself king. Madness, truly. Now everyone wants to be a king."
The man hummed deeply. "That's quite the situation. Very delicate it."
They chortled. "That's one way to put it. It's war from all sides, a good day for business for sellswords and mercenary companies. Even for us, poor little smugglers."
The bearded old man wondered if what he was looking for could be there. Frankly, he was walking blind, and it had been two days, and the doors of this world only got bigger. But he was confident that soon, he'd find an answer.
"In anycase, you should see the oldest Baratheon princes. They call her the most beautiful woman in the world."
The old bearded man raised an eyebrow, wondering why such a statement intrigued him. "Oh, could I know why she deserves such a title?" He asked.
"She's a Targaryen," one smuggler said as the other shook his head.
"Half-Targaryen... or quarter, I don't know. She has the seed of the Golden Lion and the Fury of the Baratheons. But everyone who stares at her founds a treasure worth more than gold. She has snowy white hair like snow fell on her head, but her eyes truly captivate things. They are a deep golden colour! They say all the gods blessed her with many things, but glamour was one of them!" The smuggler said with an almost dreamingly voice.
"How the fuck do you know that? Have you seen her at least?" The other smuggler asked, annoyed.
" I, well, no, but that's what people said!" The smuggler defended. "Lorah, from Tyrosh, remember him? He told me he saw her when doing business on King's Landing. He saw her walking among the poor, broken and bastard alike and helping them out. And he did tell me she was just the most beautiful woman he has ever seen!"
"I don't believe you."
"It is true!"
"What's her name?" The old bearded man asked quickly. Golden eyes? White snowy hair?! Could it be? The smugglers looked at the old man who seemed quite frenetic to know who she was, a strange fellow he was for them.
"She's Galadriel Baratheon. They call her the White Lion of the Red Keep," the smuggler said, and the old man froze when he heard the name Galadriel. There was no mistake that was the name of his lady. He could swear it on his life. Yet, while he had many questions about it. One thing was clear. He must go back to her. Immediately.
"Why the White Lion of the Red Keep? That doesn't make sense. She's a girl, right? It should be the White Lioness of the Red Keep..."
"I don't know... it just sticks better."
"Gentlemen, how much would you charge me for taking me to Westeros?" He asked with a serious face. Confused, the two smugglers stared at him, but a work opportunity was always welcome. Besides, he looked reasonably well off to pay them gold.
"Well, a heavy bag of gold is good for anyone."
"Don't worry about the price. I shall pay it in full," the man said as he threw them a few gold coins. The smugglers stared at those coins and were quite confused. They had never seen coins like that before. But gold was gold.
"Well, it's not fake..."
"Alright, we shall leave as soon as possible. Let us get our supplies in order, my lord."
The bearded man nodded. "Please, I am not a lord, just a loyal servant, and also, call me Sebas."