This chapter was edited by Gladiusx.
Winterfell
"Bran…you are in there, aren't you?"
"Bran, I'm so sorry, Bran. I should have come straight here after Hornwood."
"Stop trying to excuse my actions, little brother. I failed you and Winterfell. How could I meet our father? What will I say to Mother when she learns of your death?"
Percy watched as Sansa hugged the massive wolf that now housed her brother's soul. It's been an hour since they arrived in the castle, and Sansa's first act was to go to the Godswood, where she simply hugged and talked to the beast. Or, well, her brother, but Percy wasn't sure there was much of a difference anymore. It was the first time he had seen a wolf so large, as large as a horse! Direwolves, they called them, though they were not the same as the direwolves from Earth that Artemis kept in her hunt. While he had seen far larger dogs before, there was something different about being face to face with such a large predator that did not give monster vibes or didn't look like a hellhound.
At first, Percy thought his wife had gone mad with grief, but then the direwolf reciprocated everything she said. He licked her face when she cried, gave light barks and huffs when she asked a question, and acted far more intelligent than any wolf or dog he had ever seen. Then, there was Sansa herself, who seemed to actively converse with him; it was as if they both understood each other and could communicate.
"Perhaps they are." Wylla shrugged when he voiced his thoughts as they sat on a boulder by the cool pool beside the massive Heart Tree; Alys Karstark had taken over Sansa's duties over her ladies and worked to set them up in their quarters as she was the only one who was familiar with the castle. It was only him, Wylla, and Sansa here; the blue-haired girl had been standing close to Sansa when she saw the direwolf, and his wife gripped her tightly as she made her way to the Godswood, Percy following them later after he made sure the troops were settled. "Did you not mention you could talk to horses? That their voices reach your mind and they understand whatever you say?"
"Could be. Sansa does have a connection with Beauty and could have formed another with Summer. Or should we call him Bran?"
"I think Summer would be better." The blue-haired girl giggled, her laugh clear as a bell, and stroked Beauty's feathers as the moonhawk leaned into her fingers, probably liking the warmth more than the foreign gesture. "No matter how the magic of skinchanging works, it would still be queer to call him otherwise. Now, Percy, shouldn't you claim this Heart Tree as well?"
Percy was surprised when Wylla dyed her hair blue, but he wasn't dense enough to miss why she would do it. And it wasn't the boring neon blue he had seen back home, but a vibrant color that looked almost alive on her. This was especially odd since Percy was certain she only dyed it once; he could sense when dye and other liquid cosmetics were being used.
"I suppose I should."
Percy stood and walked to the pale trunk. It was not a secret that he stopped at every weirwood he found and fed it his blood; nearly all of White Harbor had seen him do so, and many of the trees in the city had bloomed stronger than ever thanks to his blood. None of his friends understood why he did so, but his attempts at explaining only confused them more than anything. Still, after claiming every weirwood he found on the eastern coast of the North, his connection to the land had gotten far stronger than when he first arrived.
He could have claimed a single weirwood and called it a day since they were all connected through their roots, and his influence would eventually spread to all of Westeros. Yet such a process would have taken decades, if not centuries. By claiming each individual tree he found, it became much easier and faster, especially when he decided to spread his influence north of the Wall or south of the Neck; both regions had different deities in the land, and although the Builder had some influence in the South in his position as the Smith, he had none beyond the Wall that still survived.
The main reason Percy started this whole process was to allow Poseidon a base of power. Even now, his father had managed to manifest in the depths of the Bite and had taken residence in the Merlin King's former palace. Attacks by those massive sea snakes had lessened, yet they were still a menace, as his father's influence did not reach the Shivering Sea and other coastal regions of the North, not yet at least. It was quite convenient that the position of Sea God in this part of the world had been vacant for so long, with no one willing to ascend out of fear of other sea deities. Yet, even though Poseidon was weakened, he had far more experience ruling as a sea god than any other being.
Aside from perhaps that douchebag. Or his Demonic Fugliness and his Many Tentacles. Or his elusive overlord, who undoubtedly was even uglier.
Gods, the bad guys here were so lame!
As for Percy himself, he did not expect to gain much from the ritual; unlike his father, who could affect the world even though he had little personal power, Percy's divine power was centered in his body, giving him all those superhuman abilities and the power to match gods and demons in their own domains.
Yet, he still unexpectedly benefited from it, and even now, as Percy placed his bloody palm on the Heart Tree's face, he could connect to any other Weirwood along the eastern coast. Poseidon hinted that with time, Percy could also gain a proper domain of his own, a rule of the world that he controlled — whatever that meant. Percy had already experienced what it felt like to be prayed to and was not a fan of it. Judging by his father's words, he would need to get used to it, as with his connection to the North, he could hear all the prayers and vows said before a Weirwood.
Heart Trees were far easier to hear and connect compared to ordinary weirwoods. Percy suspected that any carvings into the bone-like bark would have a similar effect, but the Children and First Men of yore had a creepy sense of taste and went for faces. This particular Heart Tree was very special, and Percy gasped as power coursed through his body and circulated his very being before it returned to the tree. All of a sudden, the surge of information slammed into his mind, and he could feel his influence all over the Heart of the North. The only reason he wasn't overwhelmed was because he had some experience with it. Everything within a hundred miles of him could be felt, and many weirwoods in the region shook as they welcomed him like an old friend. Spirits that had slept for countless eons stirred; some of them awoke and vanished from his senses, yet most of them returned to their slumber.
Percy hoped those who awoke wouldn't be up to too much mischief. Then again, if they were anything like the nymphs of his world, he did not have his hopes up.
He shook his head and focused back on the Heart Tree. Percy had discovered he could exercise his power and influence through the Weirwood Network, such as now when he looked through the Heart Tree of Moat Cailin and found a liongator (heh) about to take a bite from a warhorse. The horse could not see it, but a whisper from Percy had it turn its head in curiosity, saw the monster behind it, and reared back in shock before galloping away with its rider, some portly fellow with a broad face wearing a blue livery with twin bridges.
Percy grimaced. The horse was saved, but the rider did not have a good grip on the reins, so he fell from the horse, broke his neck on an inconveniently placed piece of ballast, and was promptly dragged away by the liongator to the marshes, much to his friends' shock and the Northmen blocking their way by the gates.
"Shit, I hope this guy wasn't important."
"What guy?"
"Never you mind," Percy turned to Wylla, finding her staring at him expectantly.
He knew what she wanted, and a glance at Sansa showed she had overcome her grief. She simply lay on Summer's flank as she stared at them both. His wife pointedly looked at her friend before raising her arm for Beauty to land on before standing.
"Are you better now?"
"Yes, Bran is still here and loves how he can walk and run again." His wife patted the wolf's massive head as he closed his eyes in pleasure. "Something about him being a greenseer allows him to keep better control of his primal instincts."
"That's good. Does that mean he will always remain cognizant?"
"I'm not sure."
Percy stared at the wolf's mismatched eyes as he gazed back at him. "Brandon? You can hear me, right?" The wolf nodded. "You were there when I spoke to the older Bran." Another nod. "Can you still connect to the Weirwood Network?"
The direwolf tilted his head curiously before moving to the tree's roots and placing a large paw on them. Then, he looked at him expectantly, and Percy placed his palm on the tree.
He found himself staring at the ghost of the young boy, smiling at him. "It's good to finally meet you in person, Percy."
They were still in the godswood, yet the world had turned monochrome. Several ghosts wandered around them, giving them space and privacy, but Percy could not tell where Sansa and Wylla were.
"Good to meet you, too."
"I can't speak for long — I have to fight every urge to return to Summer just to speak like this. But there's something important I need to tell you."
"What is it?"
"I could tell that something about you was strange when I first saw you, but now that I'm a, well, not too restricted by my mortal limits, I could see it clearly now. I worry for Sansa and your children, but theirs is a matter of the far future. Your soul is becoming stronger and clearer. I think you're turning immortal and–Oh, I gotta go now."
Percy's eyes widened in shock as Bran disappeared and sighed in utter exasperation.
"Why am I not surprised? Any reason why you didn't bother telling me this, Brandon?"
Percy turned away to glare at the Builder, who sat on the same boulder he was on earlier.
"I didn't think it mattered. You can still be killed as a mortal, and it would all be for naught if you became arrogant." He shrugged, "You did not expect I would ask you to protect the North and not offer anything in return? Claiming all those Weirwoods have already made you closer than ever to the land, and the North recognizes its own. What's wrong? You don't seem enthused to immortality and godhood."
Immortality…Percy never truly thought about it before. He was only sixteen, not even fully grown yet, judging by the couple of inches he gained since arriving in this world. Why would he ever worry about old age when his greatest concern had always been surviving whatever fight he was in?
At least those were his thoughts before coming to Westeros. Now that he was married with a child on the way and all the duties and obligations that came with marrying Sansa, things were different.
"Did you have a wife, Brandon?"
The Builder looked at him strangely, "I had dozens of wives and concubines, and hundreds of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I loved every single one of them and cherished every memory, even those I did not see eye to eye."
"Are they also immortal?"
"In a sense, but most of them have moved on into the cycle."
"Don't you miss them?"
"Ah, that's what has you worried." Brandon nodded sagely. "Sure, I miss them, but time heals all wounds. Death comes to all, and accepting it is what makes life worth cherishing."
"Yet you are immortal."
"Do you think I planned to be immortal? It simply happened. I buried many loved ones and lived a long and fruitful life. Do I have regrets? Certainly, I regret not having any of my lovers to share this immortal life with, even if I spent most of it sleeping or observing."
"Sounds boring."
"You have no idea." The Builder's somber words lingered in the air, and they silently gazed at the other ghosts. "If you are so worried about your wife and other loved ones, you can always try to share your immortality with them."
"Is that possible?!"
"I'm not certain but I heard rumors from far to the east of the immortals in the Golden Empire. They would hunt people with unique physiques like yourself, refine them into medicinal pills, then consume them for power."
Percy grimaced heavily and nearly gagged. "Sounds like cannibalism with extra steps."
"I wouldn't know. Regardless, you are far more powerful than I was when I was mortal, so maybe you can do what I failed."
Percy's earlier disgust melted into excitement, but he controlled himself. He couldn't take Brandon's words at face value, and he would need to discuss this with his father.
"Alright. I suppose I won't need to worry about this for a long time." He scratched the back of his head as an awkward thought struck him. "So, multiple wives? Concubines? I thought…"
"That this was a monogamous society? Hah, you can thank the Andals for bringing this silly custom." Brandon's face seemed conflicted; Percy sensed both disdain and grudging respect for the Andals. "If you have the power, then why would you ever refrain from spreading your bloodline as far as possible? The Direwolf cares not for the lesser wolves as it took the bitches and sired the next pack leader from his loins; the she-wolves would naturally gravitate to the powerful who could offer them safety and strong children. Especially tangible power, not ones reliant on the law of men or customs. This is something that has been ingrained in every Stark's mindset: to introduce new, strong, and magical blood into our bloodline. If it meant we had to war with all of our neighbors and take their daughters as wives, then so be it: survival of the strongest and all that."
Percy was pretty sure the phrase was a bit off but didn't think much of it. Brandon's words…sounded logical in a primal way. He never would have considered such a mindset to be anything but barbaric and savage back on Earth, yet here? Now that he had no one to control or stifle him with such awe-inspiring power at his disposal? What would stop Percy from doing the same as the Starks of old?
A part of him still felt…disgusted at the idea. His mother had taught him better than this. Yet no matter how much he wanted to dismiss the whole thing and forget about it, his mind kept returning to the topic. He understood that Brandon the Builder came from an era where men could do what they wanted, so long as they had the power to back their ambitions. Then again, Poseidon told him that even in their old world, the strong did what they wanted while the weak endured. A strange idea came to Percy at that moment: an image of him and Sansa ruling as king and queen, as many of their descendants stood near them through multiple generations. There were even other women besides Percy and Sansa there, even a familiar face with blue curls framing a heart-shaped face, and the worst part was — his wife wouldn't mind.
It would be easy to bury the idea, to stomp down on the temptation if Sansa wasn't the one egging him on.
Percy shook his head; it was no use getting ahead of himself. They were still technically homeless aside from their ship, but would it be too bad to have such a place as a home? Or was he expected to steal someone else's home like what seemed to be the norm here?
"I'm sure you're proud of Sansa then. After all, I am quite a special specimen. What stops me from taking over from you and doing the same? Collect all those bloodlines and introduce my own into them, take over the North from you Starks, and rule as king from Winterfell?"
"Aye, my descendant has it right. It would be a crime against nature not to propagate blood like yours. Who knows, a thousand years from now, your descendants will prosper and thrive all over the world, not just the North. I would be glad to see your blood joined with our own. As for you supplanting the Starks? Heh, what is a name's worth if it is constantly forgotten? Do you really think I called myself Stark and wasn't later generations who gave me the name? It's the blood and the traditions that matter more than anything. You are already married to Sansa and on your way to taking more women for yourself, yet it is to Sansa that you will retain your loyalty. That, I am certain of."
"What makes you so confident in my character?"
"I've already taken stock of you and your father, Perseus. Ambition is good, yet for some reason, you believe otherwise; thankfully, Sansa shall provide you with plenty of ambition. You are loyal to her, and as long as she does not have designs over Winterfell, you won't usurp her power."
Naturally, he did not even think of such an action. They stared in silence for a few minutes, ancient spirit and demigod sizing each other until Percy sighed and rubbed his brow.
"I need to go. Any advice on taking down the Ironborn?"
"The reavers are fanatical zealots who abhor an honest living. Their god promises them an eternity of hedonism, and all they have to do in exchange is to spread fear and terror wherever they go. To defeat them, you must break the foundations of their beliefs." Brandon waved him off. "We should be capable of communicating easily through any Weirwoods, but the ghosts of Winterfell can't leave the castle. Take care of your wife and loved ones, and make sure the castle is secured this time."
The ghostly image of the godswood faded, only for Percy to find himself back in the waking world. Summer stood beside Sansa and Wylla as they talked to a couple of ghosts. One of the ghosts was that sad-looking girl, and as he focused on them, they dissipated, leaving an utterly shocked Sansa behind.
"Sansa? Everything alright?" Wylla asked worryingly, and Percy realized she had not been capable of talking to those ghosts.
His wife suddenly burst out in hysterical laughter. "N-Nothing to worry about. Just a jest by my father that no one has ever realized. Oh father, you utterly cunning man…"
"Are you sure you're alright?"
"Absolutely! I need to check on Alys and the rest. There's much to do in Winterfell and we have little time as it is. Meet me in my fath–the Lord's solar when you're done." Sansa's grin faltered for a moment before walking away. "Come on, Bran. Let's give them space."
The direwolf followed her out of the godswood, his head twitched by a tree, and Meera dropped from a branch, throwing a wink at Percy and Wylla before following them out. Understanding what Sansa wanted, Percy grabbed the blue-haired girl's hand and led her back to the boulder, boldly seating her on his lap, causing her to giggle as she faced him.
"So, Wylla, I'm guessing you and Sansa had a long and deep conversation about…you know."
The girl chortled, "About me wanting to jump your bones?"
"Damn girl, you're a thirsty one, aren't you?"
"You don't think I'm being too forward?" Wylla shyly asked, her blue eyes not meeting his own. "Sansa told me what to expect if I am to join this relationship, but I don't want you to think I'm some harlot who offers her body to the first man who catches her fancy."
"Nothing of the sort." Percy hugged her waist as she placed her arms around his neck. "I like your forward and playful attitude, and I can tell you have no experience speaking to boys."
"H-Hey, I most definitely do…though they're usually much younger than I am," Wylla whispered the last part and pouted when he laughed. "Regardless, Sansa and I have talked about it, and I know what I'm getting into and am definitely all for it."
"I still can't believe you are willing to play second fiddle to another woman."
"I was raised to believe there was a high chance I would marry Robb Stark and be Lady of Winterfell." Wylla shrugged, "I would have been a sister to Sansa then. It's not too different this time, except we will end up closer than I expected."
"Oh? I know Sansa joked about you becoming her paramour as well as mine, but I didn't think you would be swinging for the other team." Percy smirked. "Gotta say, that's probably the hottest thing I've heard since coming here."
"Swinging for…" Wylla tilted her head in confusion before her eyes widened in shock, and her face reddened like a tomato. "What?! It's nothing like that, you–ugh, we're not Dornish, you incorrigible man. We would be like sisters! Sisters!"
Percy chortled as the girl denied all accusations until she realized he was teasing her and harrumphed with a pout.
"Hey now, I'm only joking. Did I mention how much I love your hair?" Percy teased the girl and played with some of the blue locks until she started smiling again and soon had her laughing. "How did you get it so vibrant and real? It's almost as if–"
"As if it really has turned blue? Believe me, I was just as shocked when weeks passed, and I anxiously looked at my reflection, waiting for my blonde roots to sprout, but no. My hair and eyebrows have completely turned blue, and I have no idea how it happened."
Percy really wanted to wake his Father and ask him what he had done to the girl because he could not think of anyone else who could do something like that. Still, he threaded her silky hair through his fingers and could not help but smile and smell it deeply — not a hint of dye, just natural scents from her soap.
He smirked, "All of your hair? Even down there?"
Wylla blushed, buried her face in his neck, and whispered a tiny "yes" that sent a jolt down his spine and heat in his groin. If that blue hair somehow became genetic…Percy coughed, deciding to address something that had been on his mind since Sansa first broached the topic of courting Wylla.
"So what had you so interested in me enough to abandon the potential to properly marry and rule as Lady? It can't be just my devilish good looks."
"That was certainly a bonus, but would you believe me if I said it was love at first sight?"
"Ah-Hah! So it was my devilish good looks." Percy raised his nose in the air and grinned as she giggled. A moment later, she sighed and rested her head on his neck. He gulped as he could feel her voluptuous chest on his own; while not nearly as large as Sansa's, Wylla's tits were quite impressive–her ass, doubly so.
"When you first arrived in White Harbor and dropped that massive sea monster's corpse on the pier, you just looked so heroic! I knew then that this man would be an excellent husband, either for me or even a consort for Wynafryd when she rules as Lady of White Harbor."
As expected, there would always be a political angle to any noble's thought process. Percy sighed inwardly, yet he had learned to accept this about the people of Westeros.
Wylla continued. "Naturally, I would not be so foolish to fall for some pretty face without knowing more about you. Over that moon you stayed in New Castle, I watched you closely and learned all I could."
"So, what did you learn about me?"
"Plenty. I will admit your power is an enticing prospect. What woman would not want a powerful man to love and protect her? But that's hardly a…what did you call it? A high bar to reach. Men with power are plenty all over the world but what good is power when its wielder is missing the most crucial thing to back it up."
"And what is it I have that sets me apart from others?" Percy asked in curiosity; he had been told many things about his character by both gods and mortals. Loyal, reckless, dutiful…he wondered what it was that this girl whom he hardly knew saw in him.
"You're a good man," Wylla said simply. "I can tell you're not the type to use your lover for ambitions. You would not simply use me as a broodmare and satiate your lust, then toss me aside for the next woman."
"I would never!" Percy growled before shaking his head. "Sorry, but I've met too many men with too much power who never understood that no means no."
"And that is why I do not see any shame in becoming the lover of a married man. My lot in life was to be married off to some knight or noble lord, live in some dreary, cold castle if I was lucky, and a dilapidated holdfast if I was not. And, of course, to keep popping kids until I either die from a birthing fever or grow old and grey. With you, things will be different. Sansa will definitely have a special place in your heart, but if I get to share a part of it, then I would be happy."
A comfortable silence fell upon them as Percy processed Wylla's words and reasoning. A part of him protested against the girl's mindset; it insisted that women could rise high in the world with their wits and brains without needing to depend on a man for anything. Yet that small part was crushed as a naive and soft side that was too influenced by his old world.
Why was he conflicted about taking more lovers in the first place? Polygamy was hardly a new thing. Didn't the Persians and some of the Greek kings practice it? He could have sworn Alexander had three wives, or was it seven? No, that was his father, Philip. Greek, Macedonian, Persian…at some point, they were all under the banner of Olympus, so it didn't matter.
Percy was not the most knowledgeable, but he thought it had something to do with Christianity — or was it the Romans? Ugh, he should have listened more to Annabeth whenever she went on one of her trivia spiels. Chiron had once mentioned that God existed somehow along with the Greek gods, or was He above them? Either way, even he had heard about Solomon and his seventy-two wives. Didn't the Christians believe in that? Why did they insist on one wife, then?
He was so fucking confused and wished Poseidon was not sleeping after a hard day renovating his new palace. Percy sighed inwardly before coming to an important decision; he needed to let go of any hesitations.
"Do I desire women?"
Yes. It was that simple. Why does he desire women, though? A primal part of his being roared the obvious: Women were wonderful, hot women even more so. This savage world had plenty of them, and none could deny him what he wanted or else suffer his wrath!
No, Percy shook his head. There was another, simpler reason why he desired women.
Was it the sex?
Hell yeah! Sansa was awesome and would always be his greatest love. Especially after all the sex they had. She was his wife and the mother of his future children. Children…by all rights, both of them were still children, yet the idea of having kids of his own sent heat to his groin and made him impossibly hard. He wanted to have sex, to take the blue-haired girl that stared longingly at him even now, bend her over a rock and breed her to his heart's content until she popped out blue-haired kids of her own.
But was it truly just his primal thoughts that wanted to spread his genes like a stud would take any mare he fancied? Percy thought deeply on it and realized why he so readily agreed with Sansa's suggestion of taking more women and siring children with them.
An epiphany struck him like one of Zeus' thunderbolts.
He was lonely.
This foreign world…no matter how many weirwoods he claimed or connections he formed, Percy would forever feel alone in this world without the people he grew up with. The demigods he had met and loved. He missed his mother and wondered if she had married Paul by now. He missed Grover, Annabeth, Rachel, Nico, and all the other halfbloods from camp. He missed Thalia and her merry band of misandrist girl-scouts. He missed the sea and its denizens, the mermaids and mermen, the tree nymphs, and even the damned harpies!
Then there was Olympus and the gods. Percy had a strange relationship with them; aside from his father and perhaps Hestia, none of them truly supported him, and more than one of them would gleefully watch him die a most gruesome death. Yet, they were still his kin, and their absence could be felt in this chaotic world. Damn it, he missed them too, even his uncles, who could act like total assholes.
Why did he desire women and children?
Because if no one was like him in this world, he would simply make them!
Sansa was already carrying the next generation of demigods, and something deep inside him assured him that his progeny would not be mere legacies but demigods in their own right. Percy did not inherit even a fraction of his father's powers, yet Poseidon's domains were locked in his genome or his blood or whatever it was that governed divine heritage since the gods supposedly didn't have DNA. He did not know if prophecy was part of his bloodline, but Percy simply knew that the more children he had, the higher a chance some of them would awaken a domain from the other Olympians.
A new divine family…even if this one came from his loins.
Percy took a deep breath, taking the scent of the woman in his arms as he hugged her tighter and moved his hand up and down her back. "You understand that I will still want to have children with you? That you will end up popping out children regardless."
"Naturally, I also want children of my own, you know." Wylla breathed heavily. Her sky-blue eyes contrasted beautifully with her hair as she raised her head, and their lips met. Percy did not know how long they kissed, only that he enjoyed her taste greatly as he sucked on her lips, thrust his tongue to explore her mouth. She really did not have any experience, and he ended up dominating their first kiss.
He so dearly wanted to strip her blue dress, suck on her nipples, hike up her skirt and plunge his dick deep into her pussy and ravage her for hours on end as he erupted inside her again and again until her belly was gravid with his children. Yet Percy barely managed to control himself as he hugged the shorter girl close to his body as she caught her breath; this was still the Godswood. Even if he did not care for the sanctity of the place, which he did, there were countless voyeurs in the network.
"Let's get to the castle." Wylla nodded absentmindedly as he stood, carrying her in his arms. "Can you stand?"
"Y-Yes, but that was…breathtaking!"
Percy chuckled before setting her back on her feet and helped her fix her hair and dress, making sure nothing untoward appeared on her. He and Sansa may have agreed on bringing more women to their bed, and the woman in question and her Lord Grandfather were on board with the relationship, but there was no need to have tongues flapping so early. Sansa had already planned it out with him; he needed unequivocal status among the Northman before they could do what they wanted, regardless of what others thought. The easiest way to do so was to defeat the Ironborn.
As they left the Godswood, Percy escorted Wylla as a gentleman would be expected to do; many of the castle's residents bowed politely to him. Percy nodded to them, talked to Kyle and Donnis on the way to the Great Keep, who assured him the men were settled with no issues, waved at Marq and his company of archers, made sure Benny and his spitfires had all they required for the battle, before hurrying to the Lord's Solar.
They knocked on the door and waited for Sansa to allow them in. Percy raised an eyebrow as he found her sitting behind a large desk, her long beautiful hair loose and fell like a fiery waterfall down her grey gown, reaching her waist. She laid back with one hand on her stomach and another frowning at a scroll like it just insulted her ancestors. She glanced at them, her frown melting into a bright smile as she could somehow tell their sudden closeness before waving at someone in the corner.
"You may go now, Maester. Unless there's anything else that needs my attention?"
The old maester shook his head, "Nothing I have not already brought up. I will beg my leave now, Princess. Lady Wylla. Lord Perseus."
Percy and Wylla made way for the elderly man as he nodded to them in greeting and left the solar. Sansa motioned for him to shut the door before beckoning them over, Percy noticing that Summer was sleeping by the fireplace.
"So, have you sorted your issues out?"
"We never had any issues." Percy protested.
"Could have fooled me. Let me warn you now, Wylla." Sansa had a serious look as she gazed at the blue-haired girl with such intensity she audibly gulped. The tension broke when his wife chortled. "This man is a beast in human flesh. Utterly insatiable. I sometimes thank the gods I am pregnant, or else he would have buried his bullcock inside me every night to rearrange my insides. Not to mention how he sucks my teats dry every night; I worry the babes won't have any milk left for them. I expect you to take over my marital duties from now on until I pop these troublemakers out and work on making more."
With every word spoken, Percy grimaced harder while Wylla's face turned redder and redder, though he could hear her breathing growing harsher. "Wait, babes? You're having twins?"
"Maester Luwin is perhaps the greatest healer I know, and he confirmed it to me. Triplets–a boy and two girls. No wonder my belly has swelled visibly despite not reaching my third moon."
Percy had barely accepted that he was becoming a father, but now he was being told that he would not have one child but three?! He thought he would feel worry or shock but he could only grin widely, "I can't wait to hold them, then help you make more."
"Of course, you would be more than willing to give a helping hand." Sansa snickered before waving them to the two seats in front of her desk. "I have ill news from around the realm."
Percy nodded and listened as Sansa explained what they had missed over the past few weeks. Torrhen's Square was lost and a Ryswell host aiming to secure it for Benfred Tallhart, who had married the aging Lord Rodrik Ryswell's granddaughter, was beaten back at the shores of White Hart Lake. They managed to retreat yet the fact remained they were beaten with their tails between their legs.
He sighed at the waste of good troops. From the little that Sansa had learned, they planned to attack the castle with two thousand barrow knights and lancers and five hundred Tallhart men that Benfred managed to rally from his lands. Yet the reavers ambushed them before they were even in sight of the castle, losing a thousand men and who knew how many horses the enemy now had gained.
Sansa's youngest brother, Rickon, was thriving in the mountains, but no one had told him of his brother's death yet. Reports from the Norreys about his wellbeing brought a loving smile to Sansa's face as she idly stroked her large belly.
To everyone's surprise, Barrowton was still under siege, having beaten back attack after attack from the Ironborn, and Sansa had prepared a letter for Cregan Karstark, the commander of their army near Moat Cailin, to begin marching for the city. It had held admirably for so long, even when abandoned by their liege lady; Sansa wanted the city firmly under Stark control for when Damon Dustin returned from the south. He would surely owe them a great debt.
The Wildlings had attacked the Bridge of Skulls but had been repelled. The commander of the Stark contingent, Gareth Mollen, reported it was merely a probing attack and expected a more serious attack soon. Another letter from the Wall came: Lord Commander Mormont sent word that he had been forced to abandon all holdings north of the wall when thousands upon thousands of Wildlings forced a crossing with the help of giants.
"Why am I not surprised?" Percy groaned. "Fucking Canada and its giants! They better not be fireproof!"
Wylla looked confused, but Sansa merely laughed and explained things to her. "Percy's homeland has a northern neighbor similar to the lands Beyond the Wall. Apparently, their natives, Canadians, are all giants that are immune to fire."
Wylla oohed in understanding before chiming in. "So, what does Lord Commander Mormont expect us to do regarding the Wildlings? I'm surprised they managed to hold them back when they barely had two or three hundred men."
Sansa scowled. "That foolish old man had somehow convinced my c-brother to accept a suicide mission to single-handedly delay the wildling's massive army. Considering they had been stalled in place for moons, Jon must have done a miracle and succeeded, yet if they are moving now…Jeor Mormont had better pray to the gods that Jon is safe, or he will regret ever becoming Lord Commander."
Percy nodded along; his wife had told him all about her family members, and Sansa's greatest regret was how she believed to have mistreated her half-brother. As an older brother, Percy felt a certain kinship with this Jon Snow; there's no way he would ever fault his baby sister for being a silly little girl. Percy had lost count of how many times Tyson had driven him nuts, yet he would still proudly claim him as his baby bro.
"Alright, that's a lot of stuff going on in the North, but we need to set up our priorities as we clean house step by step. Unless there's some invasion from the east that I don't know about?"
"Hopefully not," Sansa huffed before tossing the scroll she held towards them. "But there's definitely something queer going on by the Western coast."
Percy accepted the scroll and squinted; he might have learned how to read and write Westeros' Not-English, but his dyslexia still made it hard for him to tell the words apart. Growling in frustration, he handed it to Wylla, who had a cheshire grin; the girl already knew his issue with reading and gladly read over it…and then her face promptly fell as she stared in shock at Sansa as if asking her if this was real.
"Very real, unfortunately."
"What is?"
"Well, Percy, you were worried about an invasion from the east." Wylla's lips twitched as if she did not know whether to laugh or cry. "Turns out there is one from the west."
"Huh? But we already know about the Ironborn."
"Well, I suppose they are a different kind of squid." Sansa snickered as she reached for a plate of lemon cakes; she was far too relaxed, considering they were being invaded again. "Some kind of deep sea monstrosities have been sighted along the western coast, raiding villages for tools and metals and kidnapping the smallfolk before retreating to the sea. I've sent Beauty to learn more, but there's nothing to do about them yet."
"It's not just that," Wylla insisted as she waved the scroll in his face. "A dragon! There's a bloody dragon at Sea Dragon Point! And not just any dragon but an ice dragon — those were supposed to be old wives' tales!"
Sansa shrugged, "It's been roosting there for a fortnight and has not bothered anyone so far."
Wylla gawked, "How are you so relaxed about this?!"
"Calm down, Wylla. Have a cake." Sansa pushed the plate to the blue-haired girl, who stared at it for a moment before grabbing a slice and munching on it in worry. "The dragon is large enough to cause a serious threat, yet for now, it is content to sleep in some cove overlooking the Bay of Ice. Alysanne Mormont reports they had seen it flying over Bear Island earlier, but it had not attacked anyone. A fisherman swore he saw it fly to the Sunset Sea and catch whales and leviathans. If it ignored all the game in the Wolfswood for seafood, then it clearly has specific tastes. I, for one, am all for it acting like a guardian of the western coast. As long as we don't bother it, we should be fine."
"And if some reckless fool fancies himself a dragonrider does bother it?"
"Then Percy will have to deal with it." Sansa gave him a blinding smile. "What do you know about dragons, Percy?"
"Quite a few things, actually. There are many kinds of dragons back home, from the many headed to the super venomous sea serpents to the wingless drakes and giant fire-breathing monstrosities." Sansa nodded and urged him to explain more. "I helped raise one back home. Peleus was such a cute little doggy when we brought him. We raised him to protect a magical tree that protected our home. Within a couple of years, and after the special diet and care we provided, he grew to be large enough to curl around a tree as large as the Heart Tree here."
"My gods! You're not jesting, are you?" Wylla turned at both of them in wonder before laughing sardonically. "What have I got myself into."
"Tut-tut, too late for backtracking, my dear. You are in bed with us now and must deal with our brand of insanity." Sansa tittered all too sweetly, Percy chuckling along as he patted Wylla in sympathy. Was he imagining things, or had his wife been acting more brazen lately? "How smart are dragons, Percy? The last Targaryen dragons died over a hundred and fifty years ago. According to Maester Luwin, the Citadel arrogantly wrote treatises and books about them, but none were dragon riders and knew little about the creatures themselves. And House Targaryen jealously guarded any information about the Dragonkeepers."
"Dragons are usually intelligent enough to understand human speech," he offered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It does not matter what language you speak, for they can hear the intent and meaning of your words. Perhaps your dragons are different, but considering this particular dragon has not attacked any humans yet, it is probably smart enough not to provoke us."
"Perhaps it had dealt with humans in the past and learned we are not worth picking a fight with?" Wylla offered, and Percy nodded along. "My father once mentioned that it was important for humans to hunt wolves and bears in woodlands, just enough for them to understand to fear and avoid men. A dragon, though, is an entirely different matter; no matter what, I can't fathom it learning caution, let alone fearing humans."
"Smart." Sansa beamed at Wylla before turning back to him. "Thoughts, Percy? I would rather not send you to deal with the Ironborn only for that dragon to decide we would make for a good snack after all."
Percy shrugged, "There's really nothing else I can add. Just ensure no one bothers it until I have time to check what it wants. It's not like I can fly over there and back in a few hours."
Sansa hummed before she shrugged, stood and stretched, and walked to Summer. "Fair enough. You will leave in two days for Barrowton with a thousand men and the five hundred that the Glovers sent. Use this chance to get acquainted with the Forest Clans in the castle. I suspect that Larence Snow, with help from his Glover relatives, will push his claim for the Hornwood lands. While that is his right, he must still prove himself. Take him as a squire and give him a chance to show his mettle in martial and lordly matters."
"Aye, aye, Princess." Percy snickered at his wife's confident commands. There was simply something utterly sexy in a woman in command who knew what she was doing and had complete trust in him.
"In the meantime, I have had the cooks look into that tree you mentioned. Maple? Apparently, the smallfolk made syrup out of it, but it was considered lesser honey by the cooks. They have a jar or two in stock, however."
Percy's eyes widened. "Sweet! I'll go take a look."
Before he could leave the room, Sansa called out. "Oh, and Wylla? You will be joining Percy in this campaign."
"What?!" Percy turned back to her in shock, but Sansa had eyes only for the blue-haired girl, whose eyes were wide for a brief moment before she nodded resolutely with her fists clenched in determination. "But what about the whole propriety and people talking about us things you are worried about?"
"Do I look like I care about people's opinions? I am Lady of Winterfell and the Dreadfort now, at least until Robb decides otherwise." Sansa snorted. "I expect you two to do the deed and hopefully bring good news when you return."
"Don't worry, Sansa. I will not let him bring some random harlot to bed." Wylla shyly smiled at him. "Don't worry, Percy. I will do my best to satisfy your desires as much as possible and ensure you always have a warm bed."
At her heartfelt promise, Percy could only sigh in exasperation and glare at his wife, who grinned toothily before burying her face in the direwolf's neck. He suddenly realized that her brother must have heard all they said, and Percy shivered.
He would have to be careful and make sure the direwolf was far away from him whenever he was having a good time with his wife. Good thing Summer was staying with her and not joining them for war, or else Percy doubted he would be able to so much as hold Wylla with him watching on.
Damn, this chapter was supposed to have three different PoVs, yet it somehow ended up all about Percy and his goal of breeding a new pantheon.
Percy is confused and trying to justify himself for desiring women by assuring himself there is precedent in Ancient Greece…not realizing he only has shallow knowledge and is forgetting the most important thing. He can set his own precedent!
Sansa is growing into quite a devious girl. I enjoy writing her the most as I explore how she matures and how her mindset is evolving.
Wylla is now a bonafide Bluenette, The first of her kind. Did Poseidon, with the help of a certain bored goddess, have something to do about it? Maybe~
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