Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Priapus, Mike God of Lore, Beans
The Celestial Wolf
Chapter 04: Changed Fates
— Cersei Lannister —
The Eternal Rock Castle was nicer than the Red Keep. It infuriated her to admit it, but Eiganjo, a castle Artos had pulled out of his ass, was more luxurious than the seat of the Seven Kingdoms.
The doors at the top of the staircase up to the castle were massive, easily thrice her size, and yet they opened so easily for Artos as he guided them inside. He wasn't exactly giving them the tour, since it was all as new to him as it was to them, but Robert, the buffoon, enjoyed the adventure as they explored the winding corridors and grand rooms of Artos's castle.
The throne room was not as… grand as the Iron Throne, but it was undeniably elegant and well-decorated with red silk-like carpets leading up to a grand throne which Robert had plopped into with a sigh, laughing that it was a far more comfortable throne than the Iron Throne.
He regaled them with tales of the different thrones he'd sat his fat arse on, joking that he should have had the throne in Pyke turned into a toilet for the sin of being so uncomfortable.
Despite Artos' claims, they'd actually found a full larder with enough to feed the castle if it was fully staffed. The kitchens were as impressive as the ones in the Red Keep, with Artos easily managing the work himself as if it was normal for the son of a Lord Paramount to work like a servant.
The food was amazing, because of course it was. His cooking was better than anything the cooks at the Red Keep could make and she made note to have the royal cook fired for incompetence.
Exploring the castle, she came across the castle gardens, a strange place of an almost sand-like ground and trees with pink leaves of all things.
This was a castle for a King, not the second son of the wolves. It was once more an insult to her, to everyone, that he had such wonderful things for himself.
She wasn't a fool. The power to conjure such impressive fortifications made the already difficult to assail North infinitely worse. He could use his ridiculous ship to gather supplies for his people while they hid in the castles he pulled out of thin air. Robert was still a fool, but he was not wrong that the North couldn't be conquered if they rebelled. No, avoiding direct war would be of the most importance. Taming the wolf pup needed a more cunning, gentle touch.
Even if it meant hiding just how furious she was that the wolf had a better ship and a better castle than her.
— Artos Stark —
100cp granted, 100cp total.
King Robert seems impressed with the castle, and honestly? So am I. Father mentioned using my new banner houses to staff it, as there will be plenty of people in my territory that will want food and work during the approaching winter, and it will be a good way of making connections with the Houses under me.
"Artos! You said you went slow to get here, right?" King Robert asks, getting my attention from where I was speaking with my mother.
"Aye, Your Grace. Didn't want to go full speed when I was still learning how to control the thing," I explained easily. "But at top speed I could probably be in Volantis in the same time it took for us to get here."
He whistles, clearly impressed but something is obviously on his mind.
"Good, good. Then I want to hire you, got some stuff I need done and fast. I want to drop that bloody son of mine off with his miserable old grandfather today before he manages to get into any more trouble," Robert says.
Wait, he wants Joffrey out of my home?
"That, I'll do for free," I say simply. He pauses, surprised, before he lets out a loud laugh. "Are we letting him off the gang walk or just throwing him overboard as we fly over Casterly Rock?"
"Artos!" Mother scolds, slapping my shoulder as the King snorts into his wine. My wine cellar followed me to Eiganjo, much to his delight. We have enough barreled up in Winterfell and I can deliver more with my ship, so it won't be a problem for them.
"Depends how much he whines on the trip," Robert says, ignoring my mothers shout.
"Robert!" Queen Cersei shouts, in very much the same tone as my mother. For a moment, I share a look with the King of the Seven Kingdoms as if he's Robb and we've just got caught sneaking out again. "Surely this can wait-"
"Fuck waiting. Why wait when we don't have to? Besides, I want to see your old man's face when this flies up to Casterly Rock. Either he'll be harder than his gold or scowling like I just increased his taxes to 150%. Either way, it'll be a laugh," Robert waves off.
The Queen doesn't look impressed by his words, but unlike with my mother she can't really do anything about it. I realise that I am a man grown, and that my mother shouldn't be able to actually punish me now that I have my own land and castle.
But she can and we both know it.
— Tywin Lannister —
It was no surprise to anyone that knew him that he despised unwelcome guests. He also despised unannounced visits, with people expecting him to host them without so much as a raven letting him know that they were coming.
There were very few in the world who could expect him to lay out the welcome mat, but as much as it annoyed him, the King was one such person.
That was when he arrived on foot.
He had not arrived on foot.
"He owes you millions of crowns. Make him take back his declaration, before it is too late," Cersei tried as he stared out of the window of his solar, his eyes on the golden ship flying just above Casterly Rock, its gangway leading onto a balcony.
"Why?" Tywin asked plainly, turning back to his idiot daughter. She blinked, shocked at him not agreeing immediately. As if he would put aside the crown's considerable debt so Joffrey could escape the consequences of his actions.
Tywin had no love for the Gods, as they had repeatedly shown not to have any love for him, but the rest of the Seven Kingdoms did. To almost every Highborn, breaking guest rights was just below kinslaying. It was something only a true fool would do. A fool who thought themselves above consequences, above punishment. A fool he did not want to be King, as such a fool would prove difficult to control with such immense arrogance.
"W-what?" Cersei asked, truly baffled. If she was half as smart as she believed, she'd still be dumber than Tyrion.
"Why would I work to place Joffrey onto a throne? I've seen the results of one Mad King, why would I desire another? You have pampered the boy, filled his head with delusions. Only time will tell if I can straighten them out and make something of the boy," Tywin said plainly, uncaring of her anger and disbelief.
Joffrey might, might, make a good heir for Casterly Rock if he was properly trained. If the realm forgot his foolishness. Most likely not, but there was a chance. It would not be Jaime, his preferred choice, but it would be better than Tyrion if the worst of Cersei's 'parenting' could be crushed out of him.
But Tommen? Quiet, shy, docile Tommen? There was an opportunity there, to ensure that they ended up with a King that was more agreeable to taking advice than Aerys, Robert or Joffrey. He'd have to make sure Tommen wasn't too pliable, listening to whomever spoke the loudest, but no. He would not be doing anything to place Joffrey on the throne over Tommen.
"Father, you can't be serious-"
"I am. Joffrey will be fostered in Casterly Rock, as the King commands. Whether he becomes anything worthwhile or if you have ruined him entirely is to be seen, but he will not be king," Tywin said plainly. He knew Cersei had promised Joffrey that she'd talk to him, that he'd fix everything. He was expecting Joffrey's rage aimed at him when it became clear that he was not going to help.
He was almost looking forward to showing the once-crown prince that he was not easily cowed by shouted words or tantrums. He might have to give Cersei a remedial lesson on such things given the way she was staring at him.
"Father-"
"Leave me," Tywin ordered. It pleased him to know that she had not forgotten everything as she stormed away in a strop. Women, far too emotional.
Looking back at the ship, he frowned deeply at the gaudy golden look. It was not that he disapproved of grand displays, but only when they benefited his House. The Lannisters were known for their gold, but if a Stark was flying around in a ship made of pure gold, that glowed like the sun and flew through the skies without a care, people would associate gold with the far more impressive sight than mere clinking coins.
Castles in an instant? A ship that could fly from Winterfell to Casterly Rock in such a short amount of time? A boy who couldn't be harmed by blades?
He had long ignored the North as a place of superstition and a people barely a step above wildlings, but now? Things were changing, and he did not intend to fall behind.
If the betrothal that the King had tried to arrange had kept, he could have used Sansa to get an in with this Artos, who had never even bothered coming down from his ship with the rest of them. It had not, as Lord Stark did not wish for a boy like Joffrey as a goodson, which was quite understandable. Cersei had truly fucked up raising him. She should have taught him to hide his flaws far better.
Had she learnt nothing from Aerys' failed rule? The Kingdom would not tolerate a second Mad King so soon, especially from a newly established royal line.
Instead, he needed a different way to ensure that House Lannister did not fall behind House Stark. He didn't know where these 'gifts' were coming from, and in truth he did not care. The how was far less important than the fact that they existed.
Myrcella remaining in Winterfell was a surprisingly intelligent move from the King. Perhaps he underestimated Robert. The Starks had sons closer to her age, didn't they? And Artos was apparently close to his siblings, especially his twin. A Westerlands bride for this Robb? Maybe.
Why had he remained on the ship? Did he fear it could be stolen? Did he mean it as a message that he was above the Lannisters? Artos was a man of which he knew next to nothing and that put him at a severe disadvantage.
— Artos Stark —
If I go in there, I'm punching Joffrey again.
I have never known a man, boy really, cry, bitch and whine that much in such a small amount of time. We hadn't even got out of the North before I was considering throwing him overboard. Casterly Rock looks impressive, but I can come back some other time. No-one with a cock between their legs should cry that much.
And that little baby was going to be King? The South is truly a scary place.
"Is Lannister hospitality not to your liking?" a soft voice asks as I look up from the map I was studying to see the Queen returning onto the deck of the ship.
"I'm just the transport. Got no business in Joffrey's fostering and thought it would be best not to make matters worse, given the situation between us," I lie. I'm just respecting southern culture by talking out of my ass.
"A wise decision, in truth," Queen Cersei praises, looking around the empty deck before she moves over to the other side of the ship and leans over the edge, looking down on the harbour of Lannisport. The way she leans sticks her ass, wrapped in red velvet, toward me in a firmly deliberate manner but I just turn my eyes back to the map.
I know of the ancient Northern wisdom that Uncle Benjen taught me.
Don't stick your dick in crazy.
Even if she wasn't the Queen, this is the woman who was frothing at the mouth demanding I be executed yesterday.
She turns back, and from the corner of my eye, I watch her nostrils flare at the realisation that I wasn't looking at her.
I see one of two realities. One, she is trying to bait me into something she can have me killed for. I beat up her precious son and if she can lure me into placing a single hand on her, she can have that hand cut off. Answer, don't let her get to me.
Or two, southern women are so power hungry that the powers I've shown off have her southern cunt dripping and she wants to use me for whatever ambitions she has. Answer, don't get involved in that shit.
Either way, fuck getting involved in whatever this is.
"I would have thought a son of a Lord Paramount already knew his maps well enough to not need to be fascinated by one," Cersei says, her tone just screaming 'how dare you not look at me'.
"Oh, I know the map well enough but my ship has… expanded my reach. Places I'd never have had a chance to go are now merely a day away," I explain with an easy smile. She's still the Queen, and I promised Mother I'd play nice.
Her smile grows frosty for a moment, before she lets out a soft laugh and moves forward, standing beside me to examine the map.
"Very true. Even Essos is merely a day trip for you, now. With all the wonders of the known world in arms reach, where are you considering going? What draws your eye?" Cersei asks, pressing her breast against my arm to get a better look at the map.
"The Water Gardens of Dorne, or maybe the Titan of Braavos," I muse, running my finger along the map.
"How blessed you are to be able to just… take a day trip to such places," Cersei all but purrs. "Perhaps I should hire your services myself. Queendom is stressful, and a day or two in Lys or Myr could do wonders. To see the world from the skies, feel the ocean breeze in my hair…"
"Why'd you wanna go to a place full of fucking slavers?" I ask, briefly forgetting my manners as Cersei freezes. I use this to take a step away, getting her tits off me.
"I can't deny that their… practices are despicable, of course, but there's beauty to be found even in such places," Cersei reassures me, once again barely hiding her anger at my lack of reaction to her touch.
"Maybe- I know where I wanna go," I realise, eyes wide as a beaming smile grows on my face. "Thank you, Your Grace."
I ignore her confusion, a beaming smile growing on my lips.
I know exactly what adventure I want to go on.
I'm going to track down a slaving piece of shit who fled the King's justice.
Jorah, I'm coming for you, you dishonourable piece of trash.
— Dacey Mormont —
"You were always weird," Dacey pointed out simply, getting a huffing laugh from Artos. "But this is a new kind of weird, even for you."
Artos' weirdness was nothing new to the people of Bear Island. He'd stayed here for three months helping them track metal deposits and designing the mine they now had. She'd grown to respect him and enjoy his company during that time, but she was well aware that he was just plain weird sometimes.
"Haven't you heard? He's loved by the gods, he is," Alysane teased, nudging Artos with a muscular shoulder. Despite Alysane being her 'little' sister, she was much larger in height and muscle. "You really think this thing can get you to Essos so quickly? And that buggering off to the east for however long it takes to find him is a good idea?"
"I think it's a great idea, given that I've already beaten one prince until he begged for mercy. Mother doesn't approve of my going that far, but she agrees that me getting out of Winterfell while the royal visit happens is for the best. If I don't find a trace fast enough, we'll come back with just a good story or two," Artos shrugged. "Besides, I'm a proper Lord now and everything. Gotta do Lordy things like trading."
Dacey paused, considering just how useful a ship that could make it to Essos in a day would be for trading. Goods that should go off could be brought too and from Essos.
"Little Artos, all grown up and ruling the Neck. It feels like it was just a couple of months ago you were ogling my ass," Alysane says with a snort. "Oh wait, it was."
"Little? You're not that much older than me," Artos retorted. "Anyway, Lady Mormont. Mind if I borrow your daughters for a bit of an adventure?"
He turned to their mother, Maege, who was listening with a fond look on her face. She paused, rubbing her chin.
"What is to become of Jorah?" Maege asked plainly.
"If he's got any honour, he'll take the black like he should have. Father will give him the chance. If not? There's only one other punishment for slavers," Artos said plainly, showing that he was the Quiet Wolf's son with that quiet intensity.
"And his wife?" Dacey asked.
"That's gonna be up to my father. I don't think she actually sold anyone herself, just lived lavishly on the blood money. Either way, she's getting dragged back because she's the one I actually know where to find. She stayed in Lys when Jorah moved on," Artos explained.
"Jorah was a fool to bring a girl like that here. Damn fool boy. His father took the black so he could be the Lord of Bear Island, and for what?" her mother mumbled. "He shamed his father, he shamed the House Mormont, and he shamed the whole North with his actions. Girls. Bring the fool back to face the consequences of his actions so we can wipe the stain from our house."
Dacey straightened up, taking it as the order it was.
"And bring me back something nice."
Then, she sighed as Alysane snorted.
"So, who else is coming on this adventure?" Dacey asked.
"Some of my father's men, Robb and Jon. Oh, Father made me take Theon. If you push him off mid-way across the narrow sea, I'll say he dove in to be with his drowned god," Artos laughed. "And don't tell Arya I took you. She's already throwing a tantrum that Father wouldn't let her go. She thinks it's because she's a girl, rather than because she's eleven."
"I give it a month until she and Sansa guilt you into taking them somewhere safer," Dacey laughed softly.
"You'd be wrong. I didn't last an hour. Promised them both a trip for their namedays and gifts from Essos," Artos admitted shamelessly. "You're helping me pick for Sansa."
"Ah, and we find the real reason you're bringing me along," Dacey replied with a soft smirk.
"She'll cry if I pick her something stupid. Arya is easy, I just need something you can stab someone with," Artos admitted shamelessly.
As they bantered, she looked to his golden ship before she mentally shrugged. Artos was weird, but weird wasn't bad.
She'd been the one to complain about Jorah to Artos. She'd spoken about the shame he'd brought on her family. And now, the day after he'd gained the ship that could go anywhere, he was ready to hunt Jorah for her family.
Artos gave her a confused look at her soft smile, which made her laugh and shake her head as they began planning what they'd need to take.
— Theon Greyjoy —
As they flew over the narrow sea, he couldn't help the envy bubbling up in his chest. Artos was not a sailor, he barely knew what he was doing at the wheel of this masterpiece.
A ship that could cross the world in a day? That could fly above even the roughest of waves and even the storm clouds themselves? It was a true wonder, a gift from the Drowned God… in the hands of a spoiled bookworm.
In his hands, it'd make him the greatest Ironborn the world had ever seen. Reaving from the North all the way to Yi Ti and beyond. But it wasn't in his hands, was it?
"I've heard Lys have the best lovers in the world," Theon claimed loudly. "Maybe you can finally lose your maidenhood, Artos."
Artos looked up from the map, giving him a look that threatened a beating. Robb gave him an annoyed look, but it was one of the Mormont's who burst into laughter.
"Artos? A virgin?" Alysane, the bear of a woman, laughed.
"Aye, never seen him even give a girl a squeeze," Theon taunted.
"Because I wouldn't let you be around any ladies I knew, Theon," Artos said back with a grunt. "If father hadn't insisted, you'd be sitting on your squid arse back in Winterfell. The only girls that let you touch them are whores. For someone who talks about the Iron Price so much, you sure as fuck don't mind paying the gold price for pussy."
Theon flushed angrily, going to speak before Robb elbowed him and gave him a displeased look that screamed 'shut up'.
Artos always made fun of the Ironborn ways, and as Jon shouted that he could see land, Theon watched the group with thoughtful eyes.
The Ironborn way was to take what you wanted, and he really wanted this ship.
— Artos Stark —
I am not so undiplomatic as to not know the scene we made by arriving in Lys in a flying ship. I am also not so foolish as to not know that half the city already want to steal my ship.
The answer to the second was easy. One of us stays on the ship, Jon this time because he volunteered first watch, and has it fly into the air. Sure, they want to steal it but how are they gonna steal something a few hundred feet in the air.
As for avoiding us being robbed?
"Theon, spit that out," I say idly, watching him chew on the severed head of the sellswords who attacked us.
We haven't even been here for a day yet. I took the trade goods I brought down, wine and furs mostly, and sold them. Robb and Dacey did the negotiations, because the merchant tried to rip us off and then tried to get me to sell him my wolves… and then the Mormont sisters.
That particular merchant got a broken nose from Aly.
Theon grumbles, spitting the head out as I go over and carefully pull the leather helmet off and then nod, letting him get the head again. Leather is bad for his stomach.
Now, where is the manse of this Tregar Ormollen again?
— Robb Stark —
…Artos truly was a thing to behold when it came to diplomacy, wasn't he?
"I fucking warned you, dickhead," Artos said, glaring at the cowering merchant prince as they stood before his burnt down mansion. The golden ship hovered above them, having fired a fucking beam of sunfire down on the mansion after the merchant prince tried to have them captured and enslaved in the hopes of grabbing the ship for himself.
Nobody was hurt, because Artos, being a sweet guy under the extreme violence, ensured the servants had a chance to leave (and dragged the prince out by the hair).
"Which of you is Lynesse Hightower?" Robb asked the women with a firm scowl on his face.
"Wait, you're just here for her?" one asked, the prince's wife if he had called it right.
"She's a wanted woman in our homeland," Robb explained softly, seeing no reason to intimidate them further.
He watched, blinking in confusion at how quickly the dozen or so women pushed and shoved an incredibly beautiful blonde woman to the front of the crowd, shouting things like 'it's her' and 'take her away'.
It… wasn't fear. They seemed downright happy to give her away.
"See, was that so hard? Thank you, ladies. I'm glad you're smarter than this fool," Artos grunted. Tregar went to speak before a boot struck his face. "Fucking slavers. Oi! Jon! Bring her down. Lynesse, don't run. I'm tired, too fucking hot and pissed. I don't want to hit a woman, but I will."
"I'll beat a woman half to death," Alysane said helpfully, her bloodied mace on her shoulder. "Come along, goodcousin. We've got a family reunion to get to."
Lynesse went to speak, going silent at Aly's massive hand resting on her shoulder. She glanced up at the ship descending on them, then back to the smiling face of Alysane before she slumped.
"Robb. Let's fucking run," Artos said wisely. Robb looked around the burning mansion, likely worth hundreds of thousands of gold dragons.
"Agreed," Robb said, watching Alysane throw Lynesse over her shoulder as Jon lowered the gangway and they all rushed on board, taking to the skies before any guards could show up.
Did he feel bad? Fuck no. Slaver princes deserved worse than a little arson and beating.
"You forgot to mention that your ship could breath fire!" Jon said, looking appropriately shocked.
"Hadn't come up yet," Artos shrugged. "You've gotta admit, it looked cool."
"That slaver is gonna piss himself every time the sun rises, convinced we're coming back for him," Dacey laughed, leaning against the railing with a cheerful smile. "Now, goodcousin. I don't suppose you know where that husband of yours is?"
"You weren't guilty of slave trading. Cooperating is only going to help your case when we return North," Robb pointed out, not unkindly.
Lynesse paused, before she did exactly what Robb would expect from a woman like her.
Tossing someone else under the carriage to save her own skin.
— Daenerys Targaryen —
She'd been told that a Dothraki wedding was seen as boring if nobody died.
…did that make this the most interesting wedding of all time?
"I told you horsefuckers, I'm here for the slaver cunt. Get out of my way before I stuff your head up your horse's arse," the large man bellowed as a bloodrider moved in front of him at Drogo's word.
"What- what is that?!" Viserys asked in a half-whisper, half-bellow. Illyrio had no answer, as the golden ship floated above the wedding. Only one person had come down, using a rope to descend, but that person was proving… problematic.
The bloodrider shouted in his language, getting a confused look from the Westerosi man before he shoved the dothraki out of the way and moved closer.
The dothraki rushed him, swinging his arakh at the stranger. It struck his neck with perfect precision. Which caused the clearing to go quiet as the stranger paused, turning to the dothraki before he laughed and drew his sword, swinging it in a single deadly blow that cleaved head from body. His own neck remained unbothered.
"Who are you?!" Viserys demanded, rising to his feet as Khal Drogo did the same.
"Artos Stark, son of Eddard Stark. And I'm not here for you either. Stop hiding, Jorah, I can see you back there, you damn craven," Artos said simply.
"Stark? What is a Stark doing here?" Dany asked, baffled and deathly curious.
"Hunting a slaver. Sorry for the interruption, my lady, but Jorah has escaped justice for too long," Artos said, oddly respectfully for someone who had killed four people so far.
"How- how did you get here?" Jorah asked, stepping out of the shadow.
Artos paused, looking up at the giant flying ship, then back to Jorah.
"I walked," Artos replied with a tone drier than the plains the Dothraki raided.
…it was a really stupid question.
"My Lord, there's more going on here than you realise-" Jorah tried, his hand on his blade.
"I realise you sold men of the North, your Kinsmen, to Tyroshi slavers, then fled with your tail between your legs rather than face justice," Artos growled. "Drop the sword. You're coming with me. If you've got a shred of honour, you'll join your father on the wall. If not, Ice has been waiting to take your head for a long time."
"My Lord Stark," Illyrio started, stepping forward. "I understand your rage, I do, but this is an important day for-"
"You stand before the King, Stark," Viserys stated, unable to stand being ignored any longer. "The Rightful King. And you are interrupting my sister's wedding, threatening my loyal subjects."
"Who's the mad bastard?" Artos asked simply, blinking at the sudden shout. Ah, he'd woken the dragon. Somehow, she didn't think Stark feared it the same way she did.
"Your Grace, maybe-" Illyrio tried, but she knew it was for naught.
"Bastard? Bastard?!" Viserys shouted. "I am Viserys of the House Targaryen, Third of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men-"
"Speaking as one of the First Men, the fuck you are," Artos laughed. "Wait, I know you! The Beggar Prince!"
"Kill him!"
Yeah, she saw that coming.
"Ah, fuck this. Cregan! Theon! The good one! Dinner!" Artos shouted up at the ship as a shadow jumped down. Her eyes widened at the sight of the humongous wolf that landed on the ground without a care for the distance, already drooling. "Change of plans. Jorah, you're still coming with me. Beggar Prince, you're coming too."
Drogo shouted in his language, drawing his arakh and pointing it at Artos.
"Drogo demands a trial by combat!" Illyrio declared, desperate to get things back on track.
"Works for me," Artos replied, resting his blade on his shoulder. They couldn't understand each other, so Artos just made a 'come hither' gesture at Drogo who let out a bloodcurdling battle cry and charged forward.
She should be terrified, but Dany just felt… blank as she watched the fight begin. The same emptiness she'd felt all day, knowing what she was going to be put through tonight, barely phased as she watched Drogo roll under Artos's swing and slash at his stomach.
Had Drogo missed the way the other arakh had failed to even cut him? Drogo's arakh, held by a khal or not, was equally useless and she saw the shock on Drogo's face… for all of a moment before a foot collided with it.
How interesting was a dothraki wedding if the groom died too? Illyrio could only flinch back as Artos swung true and sliced open Drogo's stomach, guts spilling out.
Dany felt… relief. Her 'husband' was dead. Well, they hadn't officially married yet, so her betrothed?
The horselord who was going to rape her tonight was dead. Viserys let out a scream of rage, seeing his dream of retaking the throne die, charging with a dagger.
…seriously, was nobody paying attention to the fact that blades weren't working?
Viserys stabbed it into Artos' stomach, pausing and looking up at the taller man as the blade utterly failed to find purchase. She just sighed as Artos' heavy fist crashed into her brother's nose, sending him tumbling back.
"Jorah, put down the sword or I'm letting Theon here eat you," Artos said simply, as the dothraki shouted in their language. Their khal was dead, and now three different blades had failed to scratch their attacker.
Another bloodrider charged, another one was eaten by a giant wolf. These were the men that Viserys thought would win him a crown?
…really?
Jorah hesitated, before he tossed down his sword.
"I demand you take me to the King, not your father," Jorah said, as the ship lowered at a gesture.
"I'll take you to Winterfell, but if you're lucky the king will still be there. He was there when I left," Artos offered, not quite a compromise but the best Jorah was going to get as two women came down from the ship.
"…Dacey?" Jorah asked, seeing them approach.
Then the larger of the two punched him. Hard.
"You truly are a master of diplomacy, Artos," a red-haired man sighed with a laugh, looking around. Most of the Dothraki had run for it, but some remained to watch.
"I'll be diplomatic with those deserving of it. Horsefucking slavers don't fall on that list," Artos grunted. "You, girl. What's your name?"
"Daenerys Targaryen," Dany answered quietly.
"What a mess. Fuck it, you're coming too," Artos ordered. She paused, before she rose to her feet. Taken to be killed by the usurper king?
She should be afraid, but instead she just trotted along.
"I must protest-" Illyrio shouted.
"Listen, fat man. I am 90% sure you are a slaver and if you're still in my sight in seven seconds, I'm cutting your head off," Artos said simply.
"Artos! Dothraki riders coming from the north!" an unfamiliar voice shouted down at them.
"Consider your position, Lord Stark," Illyrio warned.
"Robb, go push the button," Artos said, sending the red-haired man rushing back onto the ship, not in fear but in excitement.
Her questions were answered quickly as the ship began to glow before it unleashed a ray of golden light toward the approaching horde.
Even from here, she could smell the burnt flesh and hear the screams as the horde promptly turned around and fled.
"Daenerys, is the fat man a slaver?" Artos asked.
She looked to him, then back to Illyrio who was frozen in fear.
"Yes," Dany answered simply.
"Cregan," Artos said, almost off-handedly as he took her hand and gently guided her onto the deck of the ship, the sounds of screaming behind her as the pure white wolf descended on him.
He had hosted them, but he had also arranged this entire wedding.
She didn't miss the others grabbing all the now-abandoned presents that had been brought for her. She didn't particularly want any of them, except the eggs. She knew she'd not be given them.
Watching her brother and Jorah be dragged into the brig, she wondered why she wasn't joining them as the ship took to the air. Well, where could she go? If she jumped overboard, she wasn't exactly going to swim through the clouds to safety.
"Sorry about the interruption, Lady Daenerys," Artos said, scratching the back of his neck.
"…I don't mind," Dany admitted. In truth, she knew she was still in a daze. Half of her was wondering if she'd imagined this entire mess, high on some Dothraki substance. Maybe she'd wake to find a nude Drogo hovering over her. It'd make more sense than this being real.
"Huh," Artos replied, sharing a look with the one he called Robb. "That's uhh, nice?"
"It wasn't," Dany replied simply as she looked out at the land below as they flew over it like the Dragonlords of old.
If she was going to die, at least the trip to the headman's axe was in such a glorious style.
— Bonus Scene — Robert Baratheon
In truth, he was supposed to be heading south already but he wanted at least one more ride on the golden ship before he went back to the cesspool, especially since Eddard, noble prick, had refused to become his Hand.
"Artos is returning!" Sansa shouted excitedly, getting all their attention. The sun was weak this far north, this late into autumn. It made the glow of the ship stand out all the more as it flew back to Winterfell.
Ha! To go all the way to Essos to grab a slaver cunt in under a tenday! Sure, it was possible that they'd failed and given up but Artos didn't seem the type to give up a hunt. He was Ned's boy, after all.
As the ship 'landed', still floating with the gangway extended, they watched as a pair in chains were led forward by the Mormont sisters. Neither struggled, as Eddard watched Jorah be brought before him with cold satisfaction.
"Oh, good. You're still here," Artos said, looking over the side at him. Some of his retinue grumbled at the disrespect, but he'd taken Northern bluntness over Southern asskissing and backstabbing any day.
"Aye, still drinking your wine," Robert agreed easily. He was no fool. Artos was a powerhouse, and being on good terms with him was only going to help. He'd have to drag the lad away for a good drink at some point. "Hope you brought your King something nice back from Essos. Some Braavosi wine or a Lys whore would do nicely."
Laughing at his own joke, he paused as Artos grinned.
"Didn't find no whores that weren't slaves, and their wine is shit compared to mine," Artos replied. "So I brought you back a dragon or two instead."
As he spoke, he forced a struggling, gagged boy down the gangway. As Artos pulled the gag away, the boy immediately began screeching.
"YOU CANNOT DO THIS! I AM THE DRAGON! I AM THE-"
"Shut the fuck up. Sorry, Your Grace. We gagged him to get him to stop screaming before we had to throw him overboard for the good of our ears," Artos explained. "Allow me to introduce his beggarness, Viserys Targaryen. Turns out Jorah was serving him. Interrupted a Dothraki wedding between some dude with a ponytail and Viserys' sister to grab Jorah and this prick took offense. She's on the ship. Nice girl, if a bit… on the sad side."
…when he got back south, he was going to kick Varys in his non-existent nutsack. Why was it that Artos could get the siblings in a few days when he'd gotten nothing but excuses from his spymaster for over a fucking decade?
Ned sighed, rubbing his forehead as the beaming Artos and grinning Robb stood before them, Jon leading a silver-haired girl with violet eyes down the gangway.
He had never seen a girl look so damn depressed in his life. His blood boiled, demanding the death of dragonspawn, but it was easier to call for her death when she was an ocean away and not staring at him with big sad looking eyes.
Viserys struggled against his chains, cursing Robert in a thousand ways from what he could make out. That one, he'd kill happily. Or send him to the Wall.
Actually, that might be funnier.
But what the fuck was he meant to do with the second-
Oh, he'd got it.
"Oi, Artos. What'd you say to marrying this one?" Robert decided, gesturing to Daenerys. The Starks were loyal, as long as they weren't pushed to rebellion. He'd make Artos his Hand, slap him with the dragon wife, and use him to make sure the girl didn't become a problem.
Every damn person stopped and stared at him in disbelief, except two. Viserys, whose cursing and struggles intensified (to the point where Robb smacked him around a bit to get him to stop) and Daenerys who paused, looking from Robert to Artos.
And for the first time since she came off the boat, something other than depression entered her eyes as she looked at Artos with a hint of interest.
"How much have you been drinking?" Artos finally asked.
"Fuck if I know," Robert admitted with a shrug.