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
The Celestial Wolf
Chapter 05: Justice
– King Robert Baratheon –
"My Love," Cersei started.
Oh, here we go again. Fuck, his head hurt. How much did he have to drink last night?
"Have you lost literally all sense?" Cersei continued in that grating voice that only made his hangover worse.
Grunting, he called for the servants to dress him. He had reason to celebrate, right? What was he-
The dragonspawn! Artos brought them back to Winterfell. Fucking Varys, what use was the bald dickless bastard if he couldn't do in a decade what Artos did in a tenday?
"What are you moaning about, woman?" Robert asked as the poor fuckers tried to force his fat ass into his clothes.
"What am I-" Cersei started, having to take a long moment to steady herself. The North trip was far more amusing than he expected. He'd have to drag her up here again when she was being especially annoying. Cold would do some good for Tommen as well, the little fucker was too soft and pampered. Had he even touched a sword? "Robert, we have a chance to end the threat of the Targaryen's forever. The siblings are in our hands. Cut off their heads and end this farce so your children, or your children's children don't have to fight off another rebellion raised in the dragonspawns name."
Aah, she was using his word for them. How cute.
"The boy will go to the wall, or he'll face the block," Robert agreed, nursing his head. He really did drink too much last night. Didn't he try to outdrink Artos? "Either way, he'll have no spawn and pose no threat."
"It's the girl I'm worried about. Not a tenday ago you were telling us all of how bad a Northern rebellion would be, now you give them a claim to the Iron Throne?!" Cersei shrieked.
…did he do that? Ugh, Drunk Robert made a mess again and now it was Sober Robert's problem. Oh wait, yeah he did. He told Artos to marry her since he didn't want to chop off the head of the incredibly beautiful girl when she was giving him those big sad eyes. It made sense to him yesterday.
In truth, in the cold cruel morning, he could see the issues clear as day.
"You must recant your words. The girl is a threat to everything," Cersei shrieked.
If it was Jon in her ear, he might just do that, but as Cersei shrieked all he could think was that he almost wanted to spare Daenerys just to spite his bitch wife. Where did she get off telling him what he must do? Drunk or not, the King was the fucking King.
As he continued getting ready for the day, she continued to screech and demand action and he continued to ignore her. He could smell breakfast, and with his throbbing head it was far more tempting than her shrieks. Besides, Cersei was too proud to shriek in public so she'd limit herself to venomous words and insults as he stumbled toward the smell of food.
As they entered the feasting hall, he paused as he spotted Daenerys at the table. She froze at his sight, averting her gaze. She was terrified of him, expecting him to take a hammer to her skull now that he was sober.
"Where's her brother?" Robert asked, looking at Ned as he stumbled to the table where the centre had been left for him.
"Viserys has remained… difficult. He shrieked through the night and refused food. He also attacked the guards who came to retrieve him so he's been left in the dungeons," Ned explained. That got a snort from him. Even with how much he drank, he could remember the crazed 'princes' screeches. "Daenerys has remained a… polite guest, so I had a guard watch her but permitted her to stay in the guest rooms."
Glancing back to the girl sitting between… Sansa was it? That sounded right. Sitting between Sansa and Artos, she ate slowly with that dazed expression on her face. Given that Artos arrived hours before she'd have been raped by her Dothraki 'husband', he imagined that she was still trying to wrap her head around going from Essos to Winterfell so fast.
He delayed his words, eager to dig into the meal. It was a simple fare but damn the gods if it wasn't filling. Besides, even the basic foods here tasted like a gift from the seven. Or would it be the Old Gods? Bah. It tasted fucking good, and getting some food in him made his hangover fuck off.
"Ned, I'm gonna borrow your throne for a bit. Gotta handle the 'guests' Artos brought home," Robert said in between bites, looking around the room. Tommen was sitting with… fuck, what was his name? Bron? Myrcella was giggling at something Arya said. He remembered that one, the little she-wolf. Both looked happier with Joffrey nowhere in sight. The little fucker had been tormenting them, then? Tywin better whip the boy into shape. If there was one thing he could count on, it was Tywin being a ruthless old lion.
"Of course, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours," Ned agreed easily. "Jorah is also in the cells, as he's fled justice once. His wife is under house arrest."
'His wife'. Ha! The bitch had dropped her husband to sell her ass to a Lyseni Merchant Prince the moment things got hard. Had she technically even committed a crime beyond adultery? Bah, he'd just ship her ass back to the Reach and let them deal with her. Maybe it'd win him a bit of favour with the Tyrells.
Looking to Daenerys again, he realised why he felt so damn bad. Why did she have to look so much like his grandmother? Bloody Targs, why did they all look the same? Viserys looked close enough to his brother that Robert would feel zero hesitation in crushing the mad fuckers skull with his hammer, but Daenerys looked like younger version of Rhaelle and he could damn near feel her disapproval in the girls sad stare. Fucking inbred bastards. What would Lyanna want him to do?
He could barely remember her, in truth. Couldn't remember her face, barely remembered her personality. She was as wild as the North, untamed and beautiful, but would she have wanted him to crush every one of the dragons to avenge her?
"Ned. What do you think I should do with the girl?" Robert finally asked quietly.
"She's done nothing, and suffered enough at her brother's madness and ambition. It seems Viserys was being… encouraged by some Pentoshi Magister named Illyrio, pushed to try and reclaim his throne. Artos killed him during the wedding and Daenerys pointed him out," Ned explained. "Illyrio promised Viserys that half the realm was toasting his name in secret, waiting for his return."
What the hell did some Pentoshi merchant have to do with anything? Why would they care for the Beggar Prince's plight? Was it not enough that the realm was full of enemies? Did he have to look to Essos wondering who was scheming against him?
And worse of all, was he right? Were the Houses sworn to him just waiting for a chance to rebel in Viserys' name? Viserys had to go, that much was obvious. But now, so many years after the war, would they say nothing as he put the siblings down or would it be the tipping point for another rebellion anyway? He missed Jon, so damn much. He'd know what to do with Daenerys.
Would House Stark rebel if they had a Targ child to put on the throne? He couldn't imagine it. He feared they'd rebel after the massive insult dealt to them, but it was settled and his time in Winterfell showed that most were content with how Joffrey's fuckup had ended. They regained the New Gift, some tax breaks, and Joffrey was justly punished. Some grumbled he should have been sent to the Wall but he wasn't going to be King and that was enough for most. More importantly, it was enough for Ned, Robb and Artos, and the three were respected enough for the rest to fall in line.
Grunting, he continued breakfast as he considered what the fuck to do.
At least three of the four were easy to handle as he took court in Eddard's wolven throne.
"I've done nothing," Lynesse all but shrieked as she was brought forward. With the royal visit, plenty of Northern lords were around and Artos had gone to get Maege Mormont and bring her back for her brother's trial. "I am no slaver, I didn't know where Jorah got the money until we reached Lys! He claimed he was framed! If I had known-"
Yeah, and he was a pious and chaste man. The bitch immediately jumped ship and whored herself out to a Lyseni slaver. Not the action of someone who abhoured slavery.
"Silence," Robert demanded, already sick of her shrill voice. She sounded like Cersei, which was a point against her already. "You're right. Jorah is the one guilty of slavery, but don't pretend you thought the Lord of Bear Island was rolling in gold from trade. Your constant push for more and more pushed him to commit his own crimes. I forbid you from remarrying, and I'm sending you back to your Father, Lord Leyton Hightower. You are never to leave the Hightower again."
He wasn't blind to the danger of pissing off the Hightowers. Lynesse's sister was the wife of Mace Tyrell, the mother of the future Lord of Highgarden. Sending her home with a slap on the wrist and placing her under house arrest was barely a punishment at all, but she had technically broken no laws as it stood. She was just a greedy whore.
Lynesse looked offended at his words, shocked that she was being punished even a small amount. Still, she had enough sense to know that she was getting off very lucky and kept her damn mouth shut. Some of the Mormont's jeered at the bitch, but he'd spoken with them about it and they agreed that while she was the cause of Jorah's actions, his crimes were his own. This is why he liked the North, they were straightforward and honest up here, two things in short supply back home.
Jorah was next, in shackles.
"Jorah Mormont. You are guilty of selling your fellow men of the North into the hands of Tyroshi slavers, and fleeing the King's Justice. I'll give you the choices you should have taken years ago. Take the black, or lose your head," Robert said with zero sympathy.
"My King, there are… extenuating circumstances involved. I plea you give me a chance to speak to you in private," Jorah tried.
"Out with it. Anything you can say to me can be said to your fellow Northerners," Robert demanded. "Or if you'd rather keep your silence, make your choice before I make it for you."
Maege stared at her nephew with disgust, and the House Mormont men and women did the same. He'd get no protection or assistance from his kin as some calls of 'coward' and 'slaver' came from them.
"I- very well. Your Grace, I am in the service of Varys, your Spymaster. For years, I have been his eyes in Essos," Jorah tried. "I was only in the company of the Targaryens on his orders!"
Robert paused for a moment, before he saw red. Viserys also did the same, struggling in his chains as he cursed Jorah as a traitor through his gag, but Robert was focused on something entirely different. How much shit had Varys been shovelling him? He'd wanted the heads of the dragon siblings for years, and now he finds out that Varys had a fucking agent right beside them and said nothing? Sure, he reported on Viserys' movements but whenever Robert was in a mood and wanted the pair dead, all he got were excuses.
"Varys promised me a royal pardon in exchange for my information," Jorah continued.
"He told me no such thing. Make your choice, slaver," Robert growled, gripping his goblet tightly. Varys had better have one masterful explanation for this is the slimy egg-shaped cunt wanted to survive to see winter. "If the Wall is too cold for you, you can face Ice here instead."
Eddard said nothing, his hand on his greatsword. But cowards would do as cowards do, and seeing no mercy or pardon coming forward, Jorah slumped and gave his answer. Father and son would be reunited on the wall. Eddard looked pleased, a small smile at long-overdue justice being delivered.
"Bring force the beggar prince," Robert said, unable to stop himself. Viserys struggled with every step, even trying to elbow the two men pushing him forward. But, given that those two men were Artos and Robb Stark, it didn't really… do anything as Artos removed the gag.
"YOU CANNOT JUDGE ME! YOU ARE NO KING! YOU ARE NO DRAGON! I AM THE DRAGON! I AM VISERYS OF HOUSE TARGARYEN, THIRD OF MY NAME, KING OF THE ANDALS, THE RHOYNAR, AND THE FIRST MEN! YOU SHOULD BE IN CHAINS!"
"...should I put the gag back in?" Artos asked, scratching the back of his neck.
"I AM THE DRAGON! YOU WILL ALL BURN FOR THIS! YOU SHOULD ALL BE KNEELING BEFORE YOUR KING! THE HOUSES OF WESTEROS WILL RISE IN MY NAME IF YOU DARE TOUCH ME! WHOEVER KILLS THAT PRETENDER WILL BE REWARDED! KILL HIM, KILL HIM NOW!"
"Does anyone want to take that offer?" Robert asked, looking around the hall in amusement. It was nice to see he was right to want this one dead. As mad as his father. "Artos, gag the mad fucker again so I can speak over his shrieking."
Artos went to shove the gag back in, pausing as Viserys bit his hand. Instinctively, Artos backhanded him, as Robb pried open the jaws and they stuffed the gag back into place and secured it.
"Blunt fangs there, 'Dragon'," Artos snorted, moving back as the mad fucker tried to headbutt him. He could watch this all day, to be honest. A wave of snickering went through the hall as the Northern lords looked at the would-be King being easily manhandled by two Starks.
"Viserys Targaryen. The last male of House Targaryen," Robert started, knowing he had to do this properly so there'd be no-one who could say it wasn't official. "For years you've been scheming a way to reclaim your mad father's throne, seeking allies, begging for anyone to aid you. That ends now. You are the last gasp of a dead dynasty, and as mad as your father and brother. Still, you deserve the chance that all men get. Take the black, and forsake your claim on the throne, or face the executioners block. Artos."
Artos once again ungagged him, but blessedly, the crazy bastard didn't immediately continue his war on the eardrums of the North. He remained silent, looking around and seeing not a single friendly face staring back. Even his sister refused to make eye contact with him, that damnable sad look on her face.
"I demand a trial by combat!" Viserys finally said, standing tall. "Ser Barristan, you served my father. My brother. You failed to protect them, but you can restore your honour. Fight for me."
"I serve the King," Barristan replied calmly. "I will not forsake my oaths as a Kingsguard."
Robert wondered for a moment if Barristan would have said the same if Viserys had come here with grace, instead of screeching and threatening them all with fire. If he'd been as 'graceful' as the fucking Silver Prince instead of reminding the court of Aerys the Mad.
"Anyone! Whoever fights for me will be rewarded greatly!" Viserys continued, but this wasn't the South where people could be bought so easily and the jeers of the North only continued.
"Surely a dragon can fight his own battles," Artos said simply, getting elbowed by his brother for it. Robb was more diplomatic, but Robert preferred Artos. Mostly because he was making fun of the mad prince so Robert could keep looking as regal as his fat arse got.
"Cowards!" Viserys cursed them all. "Give me a sword and choose your champion, pretender. The Gods will favour the true king!"
A part of him wanted to grab his hammer and fight the little shit himself. To relive his greatest moment, crushing Rhaegar's chest in. Then he remembered how long it took the servants to fit his fat backside into his pants. If he died, he risked giving the dragon his throne. If the beggar prince slew him in a trial by combat, any house with dragon loyalties would call it just and demand their dragon king.
Robert nodded to Artos, who unshackled the 'dragon' and Robb drew his blade and handed it to Viserys. Robert turned to speak, only to pause at the sound of rapid footsteps and turn to see Viserys charging him with a mad expression on his face, gripping the sword.
Was the fucker entirely insane?
He got exactly three steps forward before Artos grabbed his arm and yanked him back, punching Viserys in the nose and sending him to the ground in a heap. What was even the protocol for when the man going through the trial by combat broke the trial to try and stab him? Could he just kill the little shit now?
Viserys let out a shout of rage, lunging to his feet and swinging the blade at Artos' neck. Artos just watched with a tired sigh as it struck true and stopped in place, unable to break his skin.
"Seriously, you watched like four people try this yesterday," Artos pointed out, pulling the sword out of Viserys' hands with ease. "Fuck it. I'll be the crown's champion for that little trick. No issues, your Grace?"
"None," Robert agreed, watching Artos give Viserys back the blade and gesture for people to move back. The Kingsguard had now moved forward, forming a wall between Viserys and the throne. As if he'd have an issue with someone immune to blades being his champion.
"Freak!" Viserys cursed, watching Artos draw his own blade with a confident smile.
"The Gods share their gifts unevenly," Artos replied with a shrug. "Have some dignity, Viserys."
Letting out a shout, Viserys charged Artos as the pair clashed. There was no doubt who would win, but as they traded blows, Artos was never even scratched. Even without his bladeproof skin, he'd never have shed blood against such wild, untrained strikes. Each wild blow was skillfully deflected or sidestepped, Artos letting Viserys tire himself out.
"You can't win this, Viserys," Artos said simply, a cold look on his face.
"It's unfair!" Viserys replied. "What heretic magic are you using?! Northern scum!"
"Unfair?" Artos asked, a smirk touching his lips. "Like your father choosing fire as his champion was? Was it fair when Aerys the Mad burnt my grandfather alive? When your brother kidnapped and raped my Aunt?"
Ah, that was why he volunteered.
As he spoke, Artos moved forward and swung his blade several times at Viserys who could barely hold off the blows, each one clanging against the borrowed sword Viserys was desperately trying to use to ward off the almost feral strikes.
"Since when has House Targaryen cared about fairness? Only now, that the boot is on the other foot do you cry that life is unfair," Artos growled, swinging only to adjust his strike and hit Viserys in the hand. It was not a blow meant to kill, but disarm as Viserys cried out in pain and dropped the blade. "Forfeit. You won't reach the blade before my sword reaches your neck."
Viserys glanced to where the sword had clattered, then to Artos who stood, unmoving with his blade poised to strike. Fury and fear in equal measure crossed his face, trembling with either terror or rage.
"Give up, Viserys," Daenerys' soft voice called out. "You can't win. Illyrio lied to you, filled your head with delusions. Look around, nobody is toasting your name."
"SILENCE!" Viserys screamed, lunging for the sword. Daenerys closed her eyes, looking away as Artos moved forward and swung his own, a pained scream filling the hall as Viserys' blade arm fell to the floor, fingers loosely wrapped around the handle. Viserys, already a pale man, turned a sickly white as he grabbed at the stump where his arm once was, crying out in pain and shock as he stumbled back before collapsing.
Trials by Combat didn't end until someone gave up or died. Viserys, shocked and pained as he was, didn't forfeit, curses flying from his mouth with spittle and blood. Artos waited, glancing at where Sansa was comforting Daenerys, before he sighed and stepped forward again. A single thrust and the blade pierced true, straight into the heart before he pulled it back and let Viserys fall to the floor.
Calling the court to an end for the room to be cleaned, the body to be dealt with, he paused before sighing and making sure Viserys' body would get a proper funeral. He'd toss it out to the wolves for all he cared, but he knew countless would look back on today. He needed a drink.
He thought this would make him happy. A dragonspawn was dead at the hands of Lyanna's nephew, but nobody cheered. Not even him. A threat was dealt with, a mad 'prince' put down before he could start a war. It needed to be done. He'd not mourn the mad bastard, but it brought him no pleasure.
They didn't even need to give him the trial by combat, not after he tried to charge the throne. Nobody could say this wasn't handled legally and with honour. Jon would have approved. Maybe. Viserys was given multiple chances to forfeit and take the black.
As they reconvened, he could see the red eyes of Daenerys. She'd been crying, obviously.
"Bring her forth," Robert said, ignoring the unblinking stare of his wife. "Daenerys Targaryen. Daughter of King Aerys the Mad and his sister-wife, Queen Rhaella. You've committed no crimes, but your mere existence threatens to plunge the realm into war, either now or in generations when we're all dead and gone. Do you have anything to say before I make my decision?"
Daenerys remained silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts before she looked up at him. He had to wonder what tales she was raised on. What was the Demon of the Trident in her mind? Certainly no heroic warrior. Her eyes flickered to the spot where her brother died, hints of red remaining on the cold stone before they returned to his.
"I, Daenerys Targaryen, Last of House Targaryen, abdicate my claim on the Iron Throne, and the claim of any of my future kin. The Iron Throne was my brother's obsession, and it consumed and killed him. I won't carry that obsession for him. It can die with him," Daenerys finally said, her voice soft but steady as she bent the knee. "As the Lady of House Targaryen, such as it is, I acknowledge the rule of King Robert of House Baratheon."
Cersei's scowl increased and she glared at him, demanding blood, as the court whispered. Eddard gave him a look, telling him not to kill this slip of a girl for the crime of being born with dragonsblood. Where did it end if he did kill her? They were second cousins, sharing their great-grandfather of Aegon the Unlikely. Did he hunt for anyone with a drop of dragonsblood? He'd be hunting for the rest of his life and not even get half.
A part of him said to marry the girl to Tommen, it would be a move that stabilised the realm but he couldn't bring himself to. He didn't want a dragon on the throne. Besides, they were distantly related and clearly the dragon inbreeding made the fuckers mad. No need to risk making it worse. He considered giving her Dragonstone, before tossing that aside as well. Stannis was miserable enough as it was, he'd be unbearable if he had to give away his island. Maybe if the cunt had managed to capture the siblings like he was supposed to at the end of the Rebellion, they wouldn't be in this mess.
"Artos. I want you to take her as a hostage in Eiganjo Castle," Robert decided. Drunk Robert had been onto something but he didn't actually have the power to demand they marry. Instead, he would place her under the watchful eyes of House Stark. The Starks were loyal to those who were loyal to them, and he intended to give them no reason to turn against the crown. "If she remained loyal, I'll think about returning some of House Targaryen's land."
"As you wish, your Grace," Artos agreed softly, a conflicted expression on his face. Robert knew what he was thinking. He'd just killed her brother, and was now her keeper. It made sense to be worried how she'd take it but Daenerys rose gracefully, giving Artos another look before she turned back to Robert.
"Thank you for your clemency, Your Grace," Daenerys said softly. He knew he'd have people (called Cersei) screeching at him over this. Dragon loyalists would cry about the unfairness of Viserys' death regardless of how self-inflicted it was. The Lannisters would push for the girl to be killed, and maybe even try and kill her themselves.
But he'd made his decision, and he wouldn't change his mind. Now he needed a fucking drink.
– Artos Stark –
100cp granted, 200cp total
"Sansa, can you help Daenerys get some clothes more fitting for the North?" I request, getting a quick agreement from my sister. Regardless of me becoming her sitter, I doubt she wants to see me right now since I just cut her brother down.
He had it coming. As mad as his father. I wasn't going to risk another mad fucker getting the throne by dumb chance. And I won't deny, after how my grandfather died? Turning the unfairness on the dragons amused me.
What a clusterfuck.
Feats Achieved: Capture Jorah Mormont and Lynesse Hightower (200cp). Capture Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen (300cp). Defeat Viserys Targaryen in a Trial by Combat (100cp). 800cp total.
I also fucked up. I just 'avenged' my grandfather and uncle's deaths in front of what feels like half the Lords of the North. I shouldn't have volunteered when we're trying to stop the whispers about me being a better Lord of Winterfell than Robb.
It doesn't really matter that Aerys was the one who killed them, and has been dead for ages. I made a show of it, and the crowd loved it. And why did I do that? Because I'm a fucking showoff, that's why.
"You owe me a new sword, you twat," Robb says immediately, looking at his chipped blade.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll make you a new one, stop your bitching," I grunt, giving him a grin.
[Great Trader] - 200cp, 600cp remaining
Charon, the quartermaster, is a strict woman in charge of keeping the hideout supplied. Just like her you find yourself a skilled merchant capable of making many connections through trading. This also allows you to sell an inventory of jrpg items like potions, herbs etc... as well as craft weapons out on the field on par with the most skilled of smiths as long as they belong to your allies. Finally, this also includes the merchant shortcuts to appear in locations you have no business appearing in.
As someone who has to look after a territory now, I won't say no. I'm no merchant, and this should help me stop myself from being conned.
[Fairy Bow] - 200cp, 400cp remaining
This reliable bow comes with a quiver of 50 arrows - perfectly balanced and easy to use, you'll find yourself quickly hitting bullseyes and taking down the more evasive foes you'll find in Hyrule. As a bonus, this comes with both Fire and Ice arrows already prepared - requiring a bit of magical energy to create more within the quiver, but well worth the price.
A bow? I know how to use one but… it's so small compared to my longbow. Well, I know a certain someone who would love it and I did promise Arya a present.
[An-Havva Inn] - 200cp, 200cp remaining
Between the Border Gates of Aysen and the Dark Barony lies the An-Havva Inn, the finest eating and drinking establishment on the roads. Musical entertainment occurs nightly, while travellers whisper intrigues over candle-lit tables. Anyone is welcome here, as long as they behave themselves and pay in some form of recognizable coinage or barter. Even the Aysen goddess Serra used to visit from time to time, and the inn is located remarkably close to the most likely place for wandering planeswalkers to enter the plane.
With this purchase you'll be one of the owners of this wonderful place, with an upstairs apartment provided for you to live in. In subsequent jumps, you'll become the sole owner of the inn, though the establishment continues to run smoothly as a hub of story and song even without any interference. It also tends to find itself located in-between places and close to borders, both the border gates of nations and of the very plane it is set on.
[Cidhna Mine] - 200cp, 0cp remaining
Nobody escapes Cidhna Mine, that's how the saying goes anyways. Cidhna mine is an extensive set of tunnels snaking into Nirn which the Silver-Blood Family uses as a prison and as a source of much wealth. Yours isn't that same dreaded mine, though it's similar in many ways. Placed in a reasonable location of your choosing is a copy of the mine, while the original was predominately used for silver mining, yours is much greater. Throughout the mines are extensive reserves of just about all of the ores found in Skyrim at the time, ranging from Ebony to Stalhrim and will produce an incredible amount. These reserves will replenish themselves once they begin to run dry and the mine will be manned by NPC guards and workers, though you could always appoint your own workers and guards if you wished. In future jumps it updates to include new material in the mine.
Oh yeah. An inn for travellers and a mine so I have a source of income. I don't know what 'NPCs' are but it coming with its own workers is damn useful. Besides, my forge always needs more materials. I'm gonna make Robb one hell of a sword.
But first, I need to ensure I remain Arya's favourite brother.
– Daenerys Targaryen –
In truth, she didn't want to give up her claim to the Iron Throne. It was her birthright, but… she was not delusional. The King was considering whether to kill her and she didn't want to die. Maybe she would have preferred it to being sold to the Dothraki, but it didn't mean she wanted it.
She'd been deadly curious about the fate she had avoided and gotten access to the library of Winterfell. Reading up on the Dothraki had only made her bitterness toward Viserys grow. They were a terrible people, and she had thought it was bad enough that she'd lose her maidenhood to Drogo, but her reading had mentioned that it wasn't uncommon for Khals to… share their wife with his bloodriders. She remembered the men who gave her the gifts she was told to decline so Drogo could take them, the leather whip with a silver handle, the arakh chased in gold, and the double-curved dragonbone bow. Each of the men had ogled her barely covered body as they gave her those 'gifts', and now she knew why. They were his bloodriders and they were looking forward to 'their turn' with her.
Even with her anger, she didn't want Viserys to die… but she knew that it was his own fault. He could not beat Artos, and his blatant breaking of the rules to try and kill Robert Baratheon had doomed him. Even then, he could have forfeited, would the black truly have been so bad? Was it truly so terrible that Viserys would have preferred to die? Clearly so.
His pride had killed him. Dany didn't intend to follow his example. What was pride worth? Not her life. Not the extinction of her house. She wouldn't let her pride destroy what the Doom of Valyria couldn't. House Targaryen would live, even if not as kings and queens.
She had no dragons with which to reclaim the throne by force like Aegon the Conqueror reborn. She had long since realised that Viserys' 'supporters' were just telling her brother whatever he wanted to hear. Jorah was a spy and a slaver, eager to sell their lives for the slate wiped clean. Illyrio promised that the Houses were waiting for them to return, but she saw none amongst the Lords of the North. So many Highborn and all jeered her brother, none offered their blades as his champion. She saw the approval as Artos pointed out the unfairness of her father's actions, the cheers at a dragon being beaten by a wolf.
If she had held her head high, clung to her claim, she'd have died in that room. She was sure of it.
Staying at a distance, she watched as Artos joked with his sister. Arya was thrilled with the magical bow he'd procured out of thin air, hugging her brother tightly and listening carefully as he explained how to use it.
Viserys had once been so kind to her, before he was forced to sell their mother's crown just to survive. She wondered what had become of that crown, before shaking her head. Wherever it was gone, it was as out of her reach as the Iron Throne itself.
For now, she was alive and no longer on the run. She no longer had to fear knives in the night or poison in her drink. Well, not as much. This was still Westeros. She was tired, and she just wanted to rest. Winterfell, and Artos' castle, would allow that much at least. As long as she was alive, House Targaryen lived on.
Thoughts on her birthright and what the future held for her house would have to wait.
— Bonus Scene — Cersei Lannister
She was surrounded by stupid, ignorant men.
What the fuck was Robert thinking?! Leaving the dragonwhore alive to spawn threats to the Iron Throne? Did he not care that he was leaving a mess on par with Aegon the Unworthy deciding to legitimise all his bastards? How many years of war and rebellions would they face if Daenerys was allowed to breed?! All the fat bastard had to do was listen to her and the Targaryen threat would be over, here and now!
But no, Robert, fool that he was, was not the one that had gotten her in such a foul mood.
Artos.
She couldn't have been more obvious in her hints if she'd flashed the dumb bastard. He was alone with her, of all women, practically rubbing herself against him and the fucking mutt just… runs off!
And now, he was a legend. She knew how the bards would sing of his flying ship and his hunger for justice, hunting down the slaver, fighting Dothraki, capturing the exiled prince and princess. If Daenerys had a single functioning thought behind those hideous violet eyes, she'd jump onto Artos' cock to get him on her side. Why else would she do that big song and dance? Her words meant nothing, she just wanted to stay alive to get Artos to get the throne for her!
She wouldn't allow it! She couldn't! No, she had to act first and ensure that Artos and his freakish powers served her, not some dragon bitch. But they were going to be heading south soon, leaving Artos with the bitch.
"What is it?" Robert grunted. He was more ornery than usual, fuelled by memories of Lyanna.
"My Love, a thought occurs," Cersei said, placing her hand on his arm. "House Stark has once again done you a great service, and once again they haven't been rewarded for it. I know Eddard refused your offer to become your hand, but Artos has a ship that can come from King's Landing to his castle as many times as day as he wishes. Taking Artos, Aegis of the North, as your Hand would show the North that they are appreciated. You said yourself that we can't risk the North growing unruly."
Robert seemed genuinely surprised, before he leaned back with a thoughtful look. She knew he already loved it, having some Stark influence in the Red Keep. It was ridiculous, of course, Artos was barely a man, giving him such a position was a joke.
"True, he could stay in Eiganjo and still work in the Red Keep," Robert agreed, rubbing his beard. "I like it."
Yeah. She'd see how much he liked it when Artos fucked her right there in his royal bed. She was not letting anyone else get all that power for themselves. If she had to go south, Artos was coming with her so she could get through that thick skull of his.
Author's Note: Cersei does not take rejection well.
Written: 05/03/2026