An Emperor's Song
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own anything that is seen as property by the Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire & Percy Jackson & the Olympians franchises.
Warning: This story showcases violent themes, inappropriate sexual acts, foul language, etc. that is not suitable for most audiences, especially young adults and children. Please read at your own discretion or not at all.
Chapter 27. Peace Through Strength
300 AF (Age of Fire)
Filler Arc I: [Year of Blood]
oOo
A week later…
Sunlight streamed through the mosaic glass windows, illuminating the royal chambers of the king that were now occupied by two silver haired individuals.
Perseus rolled over with a groan, his eyes drowsily opening in tandem with the light of the morning sun.
He looked beside him, expecting to be greeted with the sight of a peacefully sleeping Daenerys, but he quickly realized that he was alone.
There was no panic, he wasn't a child, but he was surprised that she had woken up before him. Since his sleep schedule normally revolved around the cycle of the sun, it was practically hardwired into him to be among the first awake.
His unspoken questions were answered when the door connecting to the bathing chambers, which was even larger than the one at Storm's End, opened and gave way for Daenerys to walk in the bedroom.
The long, silver hair that traveled down to the middle of her back was still damp from her bath. Only a matching pair of light colored panties covered Daenerys's lithe body, showing off her swelling breasts capped with pretty pink nipples to go along with her taut stomach, and narrow waist that led down to petite but shapely hips and toned legs.
His eyes were drawn, like a beggar to coin, to the mesmerizing view of her pert ass as she bent toward the viewing mirror, carefully applying a skin concoction that he knew would leave her with a pleasant scent of honey and apples.
The sight alone made him stirr from underneath the covers and approach from behind, taking in every last detail of his beloved's form, something she took notice of.
"Up with the sun, are we?" A teasing grin formed on Daenerys's lips through the reflection of the mirror.
He responded by wrapping his arms around her waist, deeply inhaling to take in her scent, pressing his front against her back.
If she hadn't noticed when he had walked over, then Daenerys was definitely made aware that he was solid as a rock, and now not just because it was morning.
Biting his tongue to stifle the groan he almost let out when she backed up against him, he responded by laying gentle kisses along her cheek and neck.
Daenerys let out a steadying breath. "It feels like torture waiting for our wedding day."
Perseus hummed in agreement, for now he was content with simply enjoying her warmth but his patience was truly beginning to wear thin. "You say that, but then you walk around like this. Or are you hoping that I just pounce on you one day?"
"I won't lie and say the thought never crossed my mind. But for someone so supposedly tense, you sure do have a lot of restraint." His swift response to her teasing was to turn her around, easily lifting her up by the waist and sitting her on the dresser.
Establishing a solid grip on the smooth flesh of her thighs, Perseus's tone was low and dangerous. "The only reason I haven't bent you up worse than I do in our grappling sessions is because I'm going to make our wedding night something you'll never forget."
There wasn't a flicker of nervousness to be seen in Daenerys's indigo eyes as she chewed her lip, spreading her legs apart to allow him to step in closer.
Gladly accepting his new position, their gazes locked, the tension in the air palpable. He could feel her warm breath against his lips as their faces drew nearer, and just when it seemed they would finally connect, she slipped away, her lips meeting the sensitive skin of his neck.
A low guttural noise rumbled in his chest when she also felt his erection through his trousers, her hands grasping at his length. He watched, transfixed, as the morning light danced across her flawless skin, emphasizing the curves that he had come to cherish while she teased him, her slow, sensual movements furthering his growing need, before leaning in to take her lips in a searing kiss.
Their tongues met in a dance of raw passion, freely roaming each other's mouths as they explored the extent of their shared desire. Breaking the kiss, Perseus gently trailed his thumb across her incredibly soft lips, his arousal growing with every passing moment.
"Should I show you a skill I learned from Tyene?" The mention of the youngest Sand Snake was more than enough to pique his curiosity, seeing as how he knew firsthand how 'skilled' the Dornish warrior was.
"If it has anything to do with all of those ash bananas you two went through, I'm game." He quite liked the canary-like look that appeared on Daenerys's face after he said that.
Just when it seemed like they were about to enter a new phase of their relationship, a hard knock came from the door.
"My king, a delegation from the Iron Bank of Braavos is waiting in the throne room to discuss an important matter with you." He never thought he'd experience hatred for Grey Worm who spoke from the other side of the door.
"You gotta be kidding me." Perseus sighed in exasperation. He couldn't even pretend to be asleep either because the Unsullied commander knew his sleeping schedule.
Daenerys hid her own disappointment behind a slight smile. "Duty calls."
Warmth filled his chest as he registered the understanding in her tone. "I'll find you after I'm done. We can train for a bit since it's been a while. What do you say?"
She hopped off the dresser and turned back around to continue her morning routine. "That depends, will you be able to control yourself around me?" Came her smirking rebuttal.
He rewarded the snark with a sharp slap to her ass that elicited a gasp. "No promises."
Perseus chuckled at the halfhearted glare he received before entering the bathing room.
It didn't take too long for him to wash himself, though by the time he was finished Daenerys had already left their chambers to start her day.
Greeting Grey Worm on the way out, he walked through the long corridors of the Red Keep that was gradually being illuminated by the rising sun.
For many reasons, his experience with the famed keep, and truthfully the capital itself, had so far been underwhelming.
Despite the long history of the Red Keep there was simply no reason for him to enjoy its supposed splendor when everything surrounding it was nearly decrepit, besides the lofty abodes of Visenya's Hill, a district that housed the most powerful and richest nobles in the city. All in all, for the capital of a union of kingdoms, King's Landing was quite lacking. The city would have to change dramatically if the vision of the better Westeros that he and Willas were cooking up was to ever become a reality.
Entering the throne room, Perseus cast an unimpressed glance around the room. Besides the guards, who had all been changed to Unsullied as he couldn't see anyone else being as dedicated to protecting his life as them, there was a tall, thin man with gaunt features. His attire didn't scream wealth like so many of the other nobles in the city who were insecure about their standing, but one could easily tell that the man was well off.
After climbing the staircase, Perseus took his seat on the Iron Throne, his body was forced to register the polished mesh of blades as they pricked at his skin. He didn't know what made his ancestor make a throne that was so unbelievably uncomfortable to sit in, but he would certainly be casting it aside in the future or perhaps reforging the famed throne.
Casting a meaningful glance at Grey Worm who stood sentry at the bottom of the steps, he watched as the Braavosi delegate stepped forward, first giving a short but polite bow, before he spoke.
"King Perseus, it is an honor to meet you. I am Ser Meros Volentin, I was sent by the Iron Bank as their representative." The man, Ser Meros, introduced himself and the missive he carried in his hand which bore the sigil of the Iron Bank, a detailed depiction of an iron key.
Perseus figured that the representative would want to hop straight into a long tirade of ass-kissing and subtle tactics to lead into the matter that the man was actually interested in which would no doubt bore him half to death, so to avoid that possibility he was the first to ask a question.
"What exactly is the Iron Bank?" His abrupt bluntness seemed to momentarily stall Ser Meros but the man quickly collected himself.
In the span of some minutes, Perseus learned much about the Iron Bank, like the keyholders, who essentially operated as shareholders, the Iron Council, the governing council composed of majority keyholders that figuratively pushed the bank in a certain direction, as well as the four-pronged executive leadership whose authority trickled down from envoys, such as Ser Meros, and regional masters down to branch masters, then vault keepers and so on.
Ser Meros proved himself to have a deep well of knowledge in regards to the overall system behind banking. The man was the kind of talent he would need to scout for in the near future as while Ser Harry would be adequate to act as his primary asset manager for now, Perseus would need someone who had experienced the inner workings of large financial institutions and economics.
Finally, after Perseus took a reasonable amount of time to take in all of the new information, he asked. "So, what business does the Iron Bank have with me?"
There was already a general idea in Perseus's head but he wanted to make sure before mistakenly making assumptions that could lead to him being screwed over. Once upon a time, he had lived not too far from the financial district of his home borough of Manhattan that housed the best of the best in the money business, so he knew firsthand how shark-like they were.
"Like most, the bank considers the Seven Kingdoms as one of our high priority accounts. We also understand the delicate situation that it's currently in. So with your recent crowning as the new king, we thought it in our best interest to express our willingness to provide guidance for any monetary repayments that may be of significant concern for the crown." In other words, they wanted to make sure that he knew about the money the crown owed them.
Perseus struggled not to roll his eyes. Debt collectors, it seemed some things could never change, no matter what world he was in.
"How much?" He asked bluntly, resting his jaw on his fist, the feeling of boredom permeating within.
Instead of being offended by his consistent showing of bluntness, Ser Meros seemed to appreciate it as he confirmed with a nod. "The former crown holder, Robert Baratheon, accrued a substantial sum of roughly one million gold dragons."
Perseus blinked for a moment before he replied. "That fat bastard spent that much on wine and whores?"
Prior from today, he knew that a soldier's wages was typically around one gold dragon a month, which would mean that a million gold dragons could finance an entire army of one-hundred thousand soldiers for a whole year. How in R'hllor's panties could the usurper spend all of that on pointless pleasures?
"The bank does not have a set opinion on the actions of its borrowers." Ser Meros's lip quirked. "But indeed, it is an unusual way of spending the coin of one's own nation."
Unusual? It was stupidity at its finest. He gave Viserys and Daenerys full permission to overthrow him if he ever did anything remotely as damning as that.
"Fucking idiot." Perseus grumbled to himself as he took a moment to think.
The Iron Bank most likely wanted to get onto a payment plan that would accrue interest over time, but he wasn't that gullible. There were more realistic ways he could pay off the debt in whole, he just needed to establish his chain of command first. It was a process that would likely stretch over the course of the current year but once done he should easily have the means to gather the necessary funds to pay off the loan within a few moons.
So essentially, all he really needed was time. A priceless resource he found himself losing more and more of.
Perseus fixed his focus back on Ser Meros. "Thank you for reminding me of the crown's balance. I'll be sure to pay it as soon as possible."
Uncertainty flickered in the representative's face. "Forgive me, but I think the bank will want to have a better understanding of the timeframe for the completion of the payment."
"As a show of good faith, I'll send you back with two hundred and fifty thousand gold. The rest of the crown's debt will be paid by the end of the year." The impressive sum that would be placed as a down payment of sorts accounted for a quarter of the total payment so he thought that should be more than enough to appease the patience of the Iron Council.
Perseus was glad that his personal fortune had a substantial increase after he acquired not only the resources of the Golden Company but also Storm's End. It would sting his pockets, but not nearly enough to make him helpless if he needed large amounts of gold.
In typical financier fashion, a pleasant smile bloomed on Ser Meros's face. "That is most excellent, King Perseus. I already have a feeling that our relationship will be a lot better than it was with your predecessors."
After organizing a suitable, small fleet of ships to help the representative transfer the sizable amount of gold across the Narrow Sea without worry of pirates or other dangers, he ended his talk with the Iron Bank representative.
Once the matter regarding the Iron Bank was dealt with, for the moment at least, he had hoped to be able to work on his own projects but that proved infeasible when Grey Worm informed him of the sea of nobles and other representatives that needed his immediate judgment on matters of great importance.
So, Perseus begrudgingly got as comfortable as he could get in a chair made out of molten, jagged steel as he prepared for a very long day.
oOo
With Margaery…
From the balcony of a luxurious chamber within Maegor's Holdfast, the Flower of Highgarden peered over the capital below. Despite the still rising sun, the city's streets were already filled with bustling traffic.
The air was alive with the sounds of merchants calling their wares, the clatter of horse hooves on cobblestones, and the distant hum of life awakening in the capital. Flecks of sunlight reflected off the Red Keep's crimson walls, while the sprawl of King's Landing stretched out in uneven rows of slate and thatch, fading into the shimmering waters of Blackwater Bay.
A faint scent of baking bread mingled with the brine of the distant sea and the mud-caked streets of Flea Bottom, a reminder of the city's vibrancy and grit.
Margaery's auburn hair caught the soft glow of the morning light, cascading in waves over her shoulders. Her large, doe-like brown eyes seemed to drink in the scene below, framed by delicate features that exuded both warmth and regality.
Behind her, the soft scrape of boots on stone heralded Viserys's arrival. His presence was unassuming at first, but as he stepped into the morning light, the silvery sheen of his hair and the sharp lines of his Valyrian features were unmistakable.
"My flower," he remarked, his voice smooth yet touched with weariness. He moved to stand beside her, his arm wrapping lovingly around her waist as his violet eyes scanned the streets below. "When did you wake?"
Margaery leaned into her beloved's side, her chest filling with warmth as it always did whenever they were near. "Not long ago. I didn't want to wake you. It has been a busy time for you, my love."
Immediately after Perseus's coronation, the Targaryen's and their allies had been working tirelessly to bring some relief to the wounded kingdoms which had all been affected by the war in their own ways. There were even some nights when she had to sleep alone in her and Viserys's bed.
Her handsome prince simply hummed in acknowledgment, his arms wrapping around her further as he inhaled her scent. "Perseus is starting to get his small council together. So I should have more time for you soon."
To know that her was still thinking about her despite the pressures he faced warmed her heart. It also reminded her of the sensitive information she had received from her family's trusted maester. Information that would forever change their lives.
After a moment's hesitation, she turned fully to face him, her expression unusually serious. "Viserys," she began, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. "There is something I must tell you."
He looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly, though he said nothing.
"I'm with child," she reveals, her hand drifting instinctively to her stomach. "Your child."
For a moment, Viserys was silent, his gaze fixed on her as if trying to process her words. Then, his expression softened, the tension in his features melting away. "A child," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. Slowly, his hand came to rest over hers, his touch warm and steady. "Our child."
Margaery nodded in agreement, her smile returned fully though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Our child."
For once, her lively prince was at a loss for words. He simply smiled, a full one that expressed his joy and gratitude, before his lips found hers.
She melted into the passion filled kiss, her arms reaching up to wrap around his neck as she wholly surrendered herself to her true love.
After a long moment, their lips separated, though their joyful energy still lingered. "His name will be Caesar!"
Margaery bursts into giggles at the enthusiasm of her soon-to-be husband. "We don't even know if it will be a boy or a girl yet."
Undeterred, Viserys's face broke out in a full-blown grin. "I know he will be a boy. My eldest son, my heir, Caesar Targaryen. Future prince of the realm."
She simply shook her head in amusement and joy, unwilling to say anything to dim her beloved's spirits.
House Targaryen would soon gain another member and Margaery would become what she had always wanted, a mother. The future was still uncertain, but she could only smile as her dreams were finally unfolding before her eyes.
oOo
Sometime later, with Perseus…
The grand parlor, or rather office, of the king was lit by flickering firelight, the flames casting shadows on the walls adorned with banners of black and red.
A large table in front of a window, piled with maps, letters, and reports—each detailing the kingdoms now under Perseus' command. His piercing eyes flickered up as a knock on the door, followed by its opening, revealed Ser Harry Strickland, guided in by Grey Worm.
Leaning back in his chair, Perseus exhaled as he set aside a lengthy report on the terrible financial condition of the realm.
The transition between the new regime and the old was so far going well, and a lot smoother than he expected, but there were a few—well, a lot of issues that needed to be addressed. Such as the nobles and sers that were placed in key positions of power for their role in supporting the Baratheon's rebellion, the essentially bankrupt state of the crown, the shortage of grain and other basic supplies that seemed to be lacking predominantly in the central regions, etc.
Perseus registered the practically vibrating pudgy man with a spark of humor. "You seem to be in good spirits."
"It's hard not to be, Your Grace. The purpose of the Golden Company has finally been fulfilled after nearly a century." Ser Harry beamed.
"And a major part of that was thanks to you. I think that deserves a reasonable recognition. Don't you, Lord Harry?" The Captain-General of the Golden Company froze as the title registered through his ears.
"My king?" Ser Harry questioned quietly.
"From today on, you are a lord. Lord Harry of House Strickland and also my new Warden of Finance— I had to make up a new title, Master of Coin sounds way too tacky." Perseus grumbled the last bit while the newly appointed lord stood frozen in disbelief.
"I-I don't know what to say, Your Grace. This is an immense honor." Harry finally managed to stammer.
"Don't worry about it, you helped me out a lot by giving me the company to use for invading Westeros. Please sit, the others should be here soon." Perseus gestured to one of the seats in front of his desk which was taken by a numb looking Harry.
Perseus spent the next few minutes of silently looking over another report while they waited for the other people he had summoned to arrive.
Eventually, the door to the grand office opened and Viserys stepped inside, followed by Asha Greyjoy.
"Nephew, I just received the greatest news!" In typical Viserys fashion, his uncle entered the room with his chaotic energy. "I'll tell you and Daenerys about it later."
Perseus's eyes glinted curiously for a moment before his gaze flickered to Asha who boldly strode across the room.
"Lady Asha Greyjoy, it's nice to meet you. Please sit, I won't bite." His humor made the seafaring woman raise a fearless brow, but she took a seat in front of him while Viserys sat beside her.
He looked at all three occupants for a moment before he began. "I'm sure you all want to know why I called you here, trust me I'm not very patient either, so I'll get right to the point. Uncle, I'm giving you a position in my…small council?—I'll think of something else to call it later—you will be my Warden of Defense. I'll explain what all that entails later but for now just know that you will be overseeing all of the kingdom's military matters."
Viserys simply nodded, not at all surprised because he already knew that he would be handling their army in some capacity. Being a commander of their armies was a key role and there were very few that could be trusted with that kind of authority.
Perseus continued. "I've already told Lord Harry about his position as Warden of Finance, so that just leaves you, Lady Asha." The frowning woman in question showed a spark of intrigue.
"You will become Warden of the Seas. That means from today on you will have oversight over all of the kingdom's naval operations." This news managed to break the frown of the Ironborn and she stared at him in disbelief.
Finally, Asha gathered herself enough to respond with a simple, "Why?"
Perseus rose a brow. "Why were you chosen? That's easy, there's no one better to fit the role. The Ironborn have long been one of the best seafaring cultures in the history of Westeros, the world even. I thought it's about time it's recognized."
The only other person capable of fulfilling the role was Lord Paxter Redwyne, but he already had a role better suited for the man. And as he said, there was no other that could match the naval expertise of the Ironborn.
It took Asha another few moments to find her voice. "Thank you, Your Grace. I'm glad to know that you're honoring the Ironborn." Her words sounded genuine enough.
"But if I may, can I not be referred to as a lady? It makes me sound like one of those soft cunts who do nothing but gossip and sip tea all day." Asha spoke as crassly as—well a pirate.
Viserys's laughter filled the room. "I like this one."
Perseus also couldn't help but smile at her bluntness as he gave her a shrug. "Grand Admiral Asha, it is."
Asha bowed her head in thanks, a small smile now on her face as she seemed a lot more relaxed than earlier.
"Now, on to the real reason for why I called you all here. I'm sure you're all aware that the War of the Five Kings is over. And I'm sure you also understand that this means the strength of the kingdoms is at an all time low. So starting now, I'm giving all of you a group project, of sorts, to either complete or make significant progress in by the end of this calendar year."
All of the other occupants shifted in their seats, intrigue written on their faces. "I'm hereby announcing the formation of a standing army and navy. This important task will be overseen by you three, and by me as well, but I'll be busy with other equally important things so most of the ground work will be done by you three."
Viserys was the first to speak. "How many men will we need for this army?"
"To start, a hundred thousand." His flippant reply made Asha and Harry's eyes widen.
"To start!?" Harry said, in disbelief.
Perseus confirmed with a simple nod. "As for the navy, fifteen hundred vessels should be enough to comfortably move our soldiers around Westeros."
"This is a great task, Your Grace. The amount of gold to sustain such a force for one year alone is outrageous." Ever the coin counter, Harry mumbled his displeasure.
"It is a price we must pay. This army will be necessary in ensuring that the realm stays peaceful." His statement showed the financial overseer that he wasn't just mindlessly throwing coins around which seemed to be enough.
For the first time since he revealed his plan, Asha spoke with a smidgen of genuine respect. "Peace through strength. I like the sound of that. It almost reminds me of the Old Way."
The two seemed to have a general understanding of the point behind having a standing army, though not in its entirety. Perseus shared a conspiring glance with Viserys. Because if they did, they'd know that he wasn't planning on using the standing army to simply maintain the peace but to eventually cripple every feudal lord's ability to call upon a threatening army by conscripting all of their experienced troops, reducing their recruitment pool, making it more costly to afford maintaining large forces and most importantly, shifting the loyalties of the fighting men of Westeros away from their former lords with higher pay, special training and overall better treatment.
Military strength. It was one of the main pillars that enabled the powerful to act against their higher ups if they believed themselves victims of injustice. It was one of the reasons the War of the Five Kings picked up traction in the first place. But if his plan came to fruition, his family would be the only ones capable of brute forcing their view of justice.
"Let's touch up on our options for affording this new army. According to these reports, there's substantial profit to be made in mining." Perhaps as a show of good will, Ser Meros of the Iron Bank gifted him reports, verified by individuals who had the necessary knowledge, of various mining systems across the continent that, if established, detailed the potential amounts of metals and other minerals that they could produce and sell.
How did a foreign bank have this kind of information while the former treasury overseers didn't? Perseus could only guess it was because of Robert's incompetence. But he would be sure to tell his own people to be actively looking for this type of sensitive information.
The fate of the realm was still uncertain but if Perseus knew one thing, it was that fortune favored the bold, and he was going to grab the Seven Kingdoms by the horns and make them accept change if that was what it took to keep his family safe.
oOo
Sometime later, with Tyrion…
Tyrion adjusted the hood of his cloak, the damp chill of the underpass biting at his exposed fingers. The flickering torch light touched the stone walls of the secret passage, and the faint scent of mildew and decay lingered in the air. He had met many conspirators in dark corners before, but he hadn't expected to be led to one by his own niece.
Myrcella stood before him, her neatly braided golden hair hidden underneath the hood of a cloak, her expression was as calm and measured as a maester preparing to lecture.
She had grown even further since last he'd seen her, mentally at least, her composure far outstripping her years. And now she was no longer the curious and sweet little girl he remembered seeing skipping around King's Landing; it was almost as if she were someone else entirely.
"Uncle," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you for coming."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow, tightening his cloak around him to fight against the biting cold. "I must confess, dear niece, your letter both surprised and intrigued me. It seemed as though you would be scheming alongside my father for the foreseeable future."
Myrcella allowed herself a faint smile. "I've learned that survival often depends on making difficult choices, none of which should be bound to a specific person."
"Ah, difficult choices. A language I speak fluently," Tyrion quipped. "But please tell me there is a reason for being out here in the dead of night, child. I'm not very accustomed to the dark or the cold."
"This will be worth it, uncle," she assured him. "I have a proposition. A way for you, me, and Tommen to survive what's to come."
Her confidence gave Tyrion pause. He studied her for a moment, searching for the innocent girl he'd once known, but found only steel in her green eyes. "Correct me if I'm wrong but you've already given my father such a proposition," he prompted, crossing his arms.
She straightened her back. "I've lied to Grandfather," she began, her voice steady but quiet. "I told him I wanted legitimacy for myself and Tommen—under the guise of securing the line of succession of the Westerlands and to protect our houses' necks from the executioner's blade. But I really wished for critical information in regards to House Lannister, something Grandfather gave me access to without much thought after our conversation. And what I found… will interest you."
Tyrion blinked at her blaisé admission of deception but chose not to comment just yet. "You have my attention."
"A trail of exuberant lending and questionable loans totaling nearly three million gold, a substantial sum," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "All of which are linked to the royal treasury."
"You've been busy. But airing a claim to the crown's debt will only tighten the noose around our necks, my dear." Tyrion chuckled darkly.
"Not if we use it wisely," Myrcella countered. "Instead of demanding that the debt be repaid, and in exchange for our lives, we can offer to void the three million gold the crown owes to House Lannister and even offer them the wealth of Casterly Rock while publicly claiming that our gold mines have run dry. The Targaryens will be eager to settle their debts and increase their own wealth as they rebuild the realm, and the destruction of our house's carefully built financial reputation will ensure no other house conspires with us in fear of carrying the financial burden that would come with rebelling against the current regime."
Tyrion's mind raced. "And what about my father? Even if by some stroke of luck that the Targaryen's do agree to this deal, my father would never tarnish our house's reputation in such a way. He'd much rather die."
"And that's exactly what will have to happen, uncle. You understand better than most, our survival is currently tied to staying in the good graces of King Perseus," she said plainly. "Grandfather understands this somewhat, but he's become too old, too arrogant. He's been blinded by the power he once held and so he still believes that he has every right to live freely. It is a foolish thought—one that will cost him his life. The Targaryen's were never going to forgive him for his heinous acts of betrayal during Robert's Rebellion. His fate has long since been sealed."
That much was true. Everyone knew that it was on Tywin's order that the Mountain led the rape and murder of Elia Martell, alongside her daughter, Rhaenys. The fact that his father hadn't already been subjected to a dark dungeon as he awaited his execution was telling of the dire situation that they were all in. Their greatest enemies were putting off their infamous vengeance in favor of putting the other rebellious houses in line first. It showed how little the Targaryen's thought of their capability to be a threat.
"I've considered the possibility of my mother surviving, but after Jaime's reveal of her act of treason and adultery, it's likely that she too will be arrested and judged accordingly." Myrcella admitted.
"That leaves me, you and Tommen. With Grandfather dead, and uncle Jaime sent to the Wall, you will become Lord of the Rock. You'll then be able to push for my legitimization as your rightful heir so that a union between Perseus and myself will be too beneficial for the crown to pass up as they would have a secure claim to the Westerlands through our children. You will also have to clearly promote yourself as a supporter of the Targaryens rule, in appearance only if not in heart. Grandfather's death, the wealth of the Rock, and the promise of future generations of claim over the west will placate the dragons."
Tyrion snorted. "And what of Tommen?"
Myrcella hesitated for a long moment, then delivered her next words with an unnerving calm. "He'll be legitimized as well but he'll be sent to join the Faith, stripped of any titles…and of his ability to bear any potential claimants of the west. In order for him to live without fear of being cut down, we will have to make it clear that he's no threat to the Targaryens—it will keep him safe if anything."
For a moment, there was silence between them, broken only by the distant drip of water. Tyrion stared at her, astonished at her seeming ruthlessness but he could sense the troubled air around his niece. She didn't wish to make her brother into a eunuch. But in order to secure his life, she concluded that it was necessary. It was unfortunate that he came to understand and accept that conclusion as well.
"And you came up with this all by yourself? You've managed to keep surprising me ever since Harrenhal." Tyrion said with a troublesome sigh.
Myrcella nodded. "Necessity has taught me to think ahead. I also learned a lot from observing how Grandfather kept his hold over the other lords of the Westerlands. I suppose it's merely fate that I'm now applying his lessons against him."
Tyrion felt a twinge of admiration, mixed with an unsettling sense of foreboding. "And if the Targaryens refuse?"
"They won't," she said confidently. "It's a trade they'd be foolish to refuse."
He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Gods save us, we might just have to try anyway. But tell me, Myrcella, what happens if this plan fails? Do you think my father will forgive such bold maneuvering?"
"I'll cross that bridge when I reach it," she said. "For now, I need you to help me make this work. Please, uncle."
Tyrion sighed, feeling the weight of her plea. For all her poise, he could see the faintest flicker of nerves behind her mismatched eyes. She wasn't as cold and calculating as she tried portray—not yet. "Very well, my dear niece. I'll help you pitch your little scheme. But remember this: when you play the game of thrones, survival is never guaranteed."
Her smile returned, faint but gratified. "Nothing in this life is guaranteed, Uncle."
With that, the imp led his niece back toward the keep, his mind already plotting their approach. If they failed, then they would all hang as traitors and conspirators. But if they succeeded… Well, Tyrion Lannister had never been one to shy away from long odds.
oOo
Elsewhere, with Arianne…
Arianne paused at the heavy oak door, her heart fluttering with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. It had only been months since Perseus Targaryen and his family had stepped foot on Westerosi soil, and since then, their black and red banners had swept across the realm, either crushing all opposition under a firm boot or seducing them with the sweet promise of power.
The young dragon himself struck down the usurper's heir, King Joffrey, in a display of absolute dominance that broke the pride of the houses that backed the boy-king. And now, weeks passed since the sun had risen with the beginning of a new era, one that bound the fates of every house in fire and blood.
And yet, she had not had the opportunity to truly show the king her gratitude. Tonight would change that.
Adjusting her sheer silken robe, dyed the deep orange of House Martell, Arianne was allowed to slip past two Unsullied guards who noted her presence with a blank, steely expression as she stepped inside the king's parlor. It was unsettling to know that the king's most dutiful guards were not only bred for their role as stalwart protectors but also underwent gruesome disfigurement to ensure loyalty. Needless to say, her looks and charm would get her nowhere with the spear bearing soldiers.
The scent of parchment and ink hung heavy in the air, mingling with a faint smoky aroma. Perseus sat behind a large desk, his silver hair glinting like molten starlight and free from the burden of his crown as he leaned over a map of Westeros. A quill was poised in his hand, his lips pressed into a thin line of deep concentration as he seemed to jot down things he deemed important on a separate parchment.
He looked up as she fully entered. The champion of the house of dragons missed nothing, and his violet eyes, their flecks of green burning like embers, seemed able to pierce through even the thickest of shadows.
"Your Grace, I hope I'm not disturbing you." Arianne called softly, her smile and voice honeyed yet carrying the natural authority of a princess. She stepped closer, the silken fabric of her robe whispering against her skin.
"Princess Arianne, it's good to see you again. And don't worry, I needed to speak with you about an important matter anyway." he replied, and though he sent a brief glance of appreciation at her attire, his tone was measured and cool. The quill was given temporary permission to lay uselessly beside the scratched parchment that looked to be the tracing of new borders or perhaps marking future conquests.
Arianne's brow rose in curiosity. "I'm always at your service, Your Grace. For whatever issue you may have." His lip curled in amusement at her suggestive purr.
After taking a seat across from the king, she waited for him to take charge of the conversation which he did naturally. "I'm currently in the middle of going through candidates to fill the vacant positions of my small council. I've already filled a few spots but I wanted to ask, do you happen to know anyone who would be interested in becoming my chief diplomatic advisor?"
Arianne leaned forward slightly, her posture relaxed and elegant but her eyes sharp as she considered the king's question. Her fingers toyed idly with the ends of her dark curls as she spoke.
"Your Grace, Dorne has no shortage of skilled negotiators. But if I may be so bold, I believe the role of chief diplomatic advisor requires someone with more than just a silver tongue. It needs someone who understands your vision and can match your resolve."
Perseus tilted his head, his gaze fixed on her with quiet intensity. "And you have someone in mind?"
Arianne allowed a sly smile to grace her lips. "I do, Your Grace. Myself."
The king arched a silver brow, his expression momentarily unreadable before he let out a chuckle and leaned back in his chair with a grin. "I really can't say I'm surprised, Princess. Tell me—why you?"
She shifted in her seat, the soft rustle of silk filling the room as she took on a more measured look. "Because no one else understands what it means to navigate the treacherous waters of politics quite like I do. I have lived my entire life amidst schemes and whispers, as heiress to a land that prides itself on subtlety and endurance. I can ensure your enemies are disarmed or dissuaded before they ever draw their sword, and I can also assure that those you wish to enter your service will do so without you having to draw your sword."
Perseus considered her words carefully, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "An interesting proposal. But would this not weaken Dorne's hand, leaving Sunspear without a successor to help run things?"
Arianne's smile turned sharper, her dark eyes gleaming. "On the contrary, Your Grace. Dorne's strength lies in its loyalty to the crown, and its loyalty to me. Let me serve you directly, and Dorne will follow you without hesitation."
The king's lips curved into the faintest smirk, his eyes flickering with something akin to approval. "You're bold, Princess. I value that. But understand this—loyalty to me and my family is not negotiable. You will have to act with my interests above your own and even Dorne's."
Arianne inclined her head, the movement deliberate and graceful. "I would not disappoint you, Your Grace."
"I know you won't, Princess." Perseus replied, his tone soft but edged with steel.
The room fell silent save for the faint crackle of the hearth, the weight of the moment settling between them.
"So, tell me, what brought you here so late at night?" Perseus begins once again. "Surely it wasn't to talk about the current state of affairs."
"I came from my own desire to see you. It has been some time since we've last spoken or shared a letter. I thought perhaps you were waiting for me to seek you out. But I come to find out that you're instead busying yourself with work, even at this hour. You're making me feel unwanted, Your Majesty." she stood up with an alluring smirk, rounding the table to stand beside him. She allowed her gaze to openly linger on his handsome features, the sharp angles of his jawline, the measured intensity in his expression.
"If I get complacent now I won't ever reach where I'm going." he said, meeting his eyes with hers. They were more than violet flecked with sea-green; they were dark and tempered by a fierce determination and boundless conviction.
Arianne smiled, letting the curve of her lips speak more than words could. "And that's what makes you so special, Your Grace." She moved behind him, placing her soft hands lightly on the king's shoulders—that he didn't tense even a bit showed just how much his trust for her had grown. "But while your victories have brought peace to the realm, Perseus, even someone as exceptional as you deserves to kick his feet up every once in a while."
He leaned back in his chair with a weary sigh as she began massaging him, her hands expertly kneading and pulling out the knots of built up tension that resided in his strong muscles.
She drew a steamy breath as her hands worked, feeling the tension bleed through her fingertips. "You've been good to us so far," she said, letting her actions speak just as much as her praise. "A ruler, a protector, a savior. I think it's time you were rewarded for that."
He closed his eyes, as if weighing her words.
"And something Dorne knows how to do is reward its champions," she continued, leaning over the back of his chair to press her impressive bosom against the back of his head.
Arianne's hands gently slid over his shoulders and down to his chest, feeling the taut muscles filled with tension beneath her fingertips. For a moment, despite their weeks of back and forth of subtle flirtations, she thought he might brush her aside, retreat into the armor of duty that seemed to cloak him always. But when his eyes opened they were noticeably softer and he reached up, covering her hand with his.
"Arianne," he said, his voice low, almost a warning. They had shared many innuendos and teasing through their many letters. And with her cousin, Tyene, being unable to fulfill the king's carnal needs as of late, she was sure that, along with her more risqué letters, had taken a toll on his self-control.
She smiled again, more boldly this time. "Hush, Perseus. Let me honor you as only a daughter of Dorne can."
The room grew quiet, save for the crackling of the nearby fireplace and the distant sigh of the chilly wind outside. In the stillness, Arianne leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear.
"Let's fall in love, if only for tonight," she whispered sensually, "forget the crown. Forget the plans. Let me help remind you what it means to live for yourself, to satisfy your desires."
And for the first time, she saw a flicker of something human in Perseus Targaryen—a hunger for the pleasures of life that he rarely allowed himself to show let alone act upon. He rose slowly, his hand still clasping hers as he turned to her, and she witnessed as the disciplined king gave way to a young, powerful man fueled by his earthly desires.
With a smooth roll of her shoulders, she let her robes pool at her feet, revealing everything beneath.
The Desire of Dorne, stood naked before Perseus as a living embodiment of the sultry sun-kissed land from which she hailed. Her body was a canvas of tanned skin, the plentiful curves of her form a testament to the lush bounty of Dorne. Her breasts, large and firm, were tipped with dark, erect nipples that begged to be caressed and suckled.
Her hips were rounded like a golden onion, with the swell of feminine allure that spoke of secrets yet to be revealed. Arianne's thighs were strong and smooth, their sleek muscles the result of a life spent riding and dancing. The silky skin of her inner thighs was a contrast to the dark, lush curls that faintly surrounded her already glistening womanhood, a water garden ripe for exploration.
The grace of her form, the elegance of her body, was the stuff of legends. Her spine, a sinuous line that trailed down to a slender waist, was the very embodiment of desire. The curve of her more than generous backside, the roundness of her cheeks, hinted at the delights that awaited those who ventured past the threshold of her thighs.
Arianne had worked tirelessly to transform the fat little girl she had once been to the living work of art that she now was. Many compared her to a living representation of a love goddess. A vision of feminine beauty that could stop time, command loyalty, and make any man's heart race. In her nudity, she was both vulnerable and empowered, an intoxicating combination that could captivate and conquer even the most unyielding of men. Her body was a treasure map to the heart of Dorne, an invitation to explore a world as wild, as sensual, and as untamed as the desert itself.
Perseus's eyes took in all of her glory with a blatant gaze of appreciation and hunger. She could almost feel the heat of arousal permeating from the king as he drank in her body as if it were the finest Arbor Gold.
"There's no going back after tonight." The king's last words seemed to be for himself just as much as it was for her.
Her alluring smile only grew as she stepped closer, her bare and exceedingly soft, pliable breasts now pressing against his chest. She didn't deign to respond with words, but with action.
[Mature Scene]
Her fingers then traced a path over his chest, feeling the solid strength beneath his clothing, before deftly unbuttoning his tunic. It fell open to reveal a man armored in lean muscle and unyielding determination.
She sank to her knees before her king, her gaze never leaving his. Her dark eyes shimmered with desire, a flame that beckoned him to shed the mantle of responsibility for just this one, sacred moment.
With a deliberate slowness that belied her eagerness, Arianne leaned in, her breath hot on his skin as her lips met the valley between his chest and stomach. She licked a line lower, her tongue teasing over his navel before moving further south.
She unbuckled Perseus's belt, releasing the fine leather from the tension that gripped it.
Her skilled hands worked to free his straining erection from its confines. When she finally did, her breath temporarily caught as a long, thick cock bounced into the air before resting languidly on her face. It seemed her cousin was right, the king was blessed in more ways than one.
Arianne's gaze was surely crossed as she looked past the large appendage dividing her face while she looked up to him, her eyes a well of desire as he stood, nearly naked above her. His rock hard girth commanded attention, one that she was most happy to give as she licked the underside of the pulsing man meat before wrapping her soft lips around him, her mouth struggling to envelop the side of his shaft before she transitioned and instead to his tip into her mouth.
Her cheeks hollowed with each deep inhale, her tongue dancing masterfully around the sensitive head. Her own treasure quickly grew damp, evidence of her own growing desire as she continued.
Her eyes held his, pleading for his unmitigated reaction, and when he gave it, in the form of a breathless groan, "Fuck~" she took him deeper, her hand wrapping around the base of his length, stroking and guiding her movements in a perfectly choreographed dance.
The fire crackled, echoing the rhythm of Arianne's mouth as she took him in and released him with a wet pop, over and over again, each one more intense than the last.
Wet sounds of flesh sucking and slurping upon flesh filled the room, the only interruptions being the groans that escaped Perseus's lips and her low moans as she tirelessly worked her mouth around his cock.
Perseus's strong hand found her hair, his fingers tangling in the dark, luscious waves, guiding her head to take him even further in her orifice. His bulging mushroom head poked at the entrance of her throat and with the smooth grace of a master practitioner in the art of oral lovemaking, she allowed him to enter her throat.
"Ohh, shit~!" The young king cursed almost deliriously as she took effortlessly took every inch of his impressive length.
With a soft moan, Arianne took him deep into her mouth, her throat tight vibrating around the girth of his cock. She bobbed her head, her lips and tongue working together in perfect harmony. Throughout it all, her eyes stayed on Perseus, the plea for more evident in their chocolate brown depths.
He further tangled his fingers in her hair, the sensation sending a shiver of desire through her. The pace of her bobbing grew faster, her cheeks hollowing as she took him in deeper, her throat constricting tightly around his cock like a boa. Her nose pressed against the silvery hairs of his pubic area, and the scent of him mingled with the taste.
A low, guttural growl escaped Perseus's throat, his hips involuntarily bucking forward in response to Arianne's skilled ministrations. The fire in the hearth crackled, its song continuing to be a rhythmic backdrop to the wet sounds of flesh against flesh.
Arianne's throat worked around his cock, her efforts a symphony of sensuality. Her lips clung to him, her tongue dancing along his length, each flick and swirl drawing a primal growl from deep within him. She felt his shaft throb, the signs of his impending climax were unmistakable.
With a final, deep bob, Arianne began swallowing, her throat working to accept his spilled offering of thick seed, potent and unyielding.
With a shuddering gasp, Perseus's eyes rolled back as he finished filling her stomach with his hot release. She swallowed everything down, her alluring eyes never leaving his face, before she released him with a wet pop and left a final, lingering kiss to the tip of his shaft.
[Mature Scene End]
Arianne took the moment to regain her breath, her face flushed and her belly full, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
"That was…" Perseus's breath came in ragged pants as he seemingly struggled to focus.
She met the king's hazy gaze once more."Only the beginning." The beauty of Dorne smiled sultrily, her hands suggestively grasping her large breasts, showing off just how soft and malleable the pillows of flesh were.
A cold shiver ran down her spine at the intense hunger that entered the king's gaze at her goading actions, his violet irises seemed to almost glow with a deep red, the color of unbridled passion.
The room was far from still afterwards, the only sounds being ragged breathing, moans and the wet sounds of pleasure incarnate as they shared this intimate moment of desire that served as a reminder that even the most powerful and disciplined needed to fulfill their own needs, their own desires, their own hearts.
A/N: More moves on the board are being made, some with words, and others through actions. Well at least Perseus made it through NNN, hehe.
And oh boy, a lot of people were angry about Tywin still being alive which is understandable lol. But remember, just because one character plots something doesn't mean that it will happen according to their plan. That's what I like about the whole multiple pov thing. I can have some characters 'think' that certain things are going one way but then another character's input simply disrupts their whole flow. Perseus was never going to forgive Tywin for ordering the rape and death of his mother, I thought the chapter of him being shown Elia's final moments kinda locked that in but I guess not.
Anyway, I hope this helps with any confusion about the future of House Lannister but if not then all I can say is just keep reading to see what happens. Until next time!