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Chapter Text

"Ned!" Cried the dark haired girl our scouts had found on the borders of camp.

"Lyanna?" Ned replied, "How are you here? Weren't you captured by Rhaegar?"

"Oh I escaped Big Brother. It wasn't that difficult though I had to flay him, Arthur Dayne, Oswell Whent, Gerold Hightower and a few maids alive to escape."

Wait a second, flay? It took a moment for me to realise that I had said this out loud as evidenced by both Lyanna and Ned's icy blue eyes staring at me.

"Of course Robert, flaying is a perfectly reasonable way to gain information" Ned stated.

"A flayed man holds no secrets, as father always said" Lyanna added.

Were all the Starks sadists now? Even little Benjen?

"If you want an example Robert I could always flay one of our prisoners alive, perhaps Jon Connington?" Ned suggested, "I did bring the family valyrian steel knife just for this sort of occasion."

"Aw, but Ned I want to use the family
knife..." Lyanna said grumpily.

"Now, now Lyanna, you just got to flay a prince. It wouldn't be nice to take this opportunity away from me." Ned replied.

Later in the throne room...

"I can't believe you Lannister!" shouted Ned.

"I assure you Lord Stark, my actions were for the good of the many" replied Tywin Lannister with a death glare.

"Oh it's not that" Ned replied, "I'm fine with you sacking the city - it probably smells better now. I'm just angry that you decided to stop."

"Um Ned, you are talking about killing children" reminded Jon Arryn, Ned and mine foster-father.

"The needs of the many outway the needs of the few, but the needs of our House outway them all" said Lyanna who was standing at my side, inconspicuously holding a large knife.

"Well said Lyanna" Ned replied, "So basically what I'm saying Lord Lannister is that you should have brought your fleet round from Lannisport to kill the Targaryens on Dragonstone...and Dorne if possible."

"Dorne?" said a shocked Ser Jaime.

"Yes, Dorne" Ned continued, "We can hardly allow a rebellious nation like that to continue to exist."

Even I, filled with rage over what the Targaryens had done was starting to realise just how evil the Stark's actually were. I mean, we haven't even got to gunpowder yet and they were already suggesting mass genocide!

Chapter Text

The first thing that Jorah noticed was that the fact that Daenerys, his queen, his Khalessi was in fact, not dead.

Considering she has just climbed onto a funeral pyre this was not normal.

The second thing was...urm...

"Uh Khalessi?" he asked, "Are Dragons...uh, are dragons meant to look like that?"

The creature on Dany's shoulder was three headed, black and green scaled and surprisingly big for something that had just been born. One of the heads was sucking on Daenerys' breasts, one seemed to be asleep and was attempting to suck on an ear and one was staring straight at Jorah, licking it's lips.

"Food..."

"Did anyone else just hear a voice say food?" asked one of Daenerys' blood riders - Moqorro? Jhoqo? Missandei?

"He's a very clever dragon" Daenerys said, "and his name shall be Rhaegal."

"Ghidorah."

"No, Rhaegal" Daenerys replied, confused at the dragon's apparent dislike of her chosen name. "After my brother Rhaegar."

"Your brother was a douche, I'm not being named after him." replied the dragon, "Ghidorah is a much better name, worthy of a King!"

"Dracarys!" shouted Daenerys.

Rhaegal (or Ghidorah as he still demanded on being called did...absolutely nothing, continuing to lick a paw.

"Dracarys!" repeated Daenerys, "Rheagal, now!"

"Not my name" replied the dragon.

"This is not the time." Daenerys responded, seething.

Ghidorah continued to lick his paws.

"Fine!" she shouted, "Ghidorah, Dracarys!"

"Okay" Ghidorah replied, "but what does Dracarys mean?"

"It means burn them!" Daenerys shouted, "I've already told you this!"

"Calm down" the dragon replied, "No need to get your panties in a twist. Now I can't breathe fire as such but this might help."

Three streams of bright yellow energy shot from Ghidorah's mouths and struck the heart of the undying.

...

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"Uh...depends on the timeline."

The walls of Yunkai (or is it Astapor? I can never tell them apart) towered overhead, dwarfing everyone.

Well, everyone except the gigantic three headed dragon sitting behind Daenerys reading a copy of the Beano.

"You know I can speak High Valyrian, right?" Daenerys said, staring intently at the wise masters sent to treat with her. All of them looked shifty and even one of the Unsullied cringed.

Apparently they hadn't thought that the Khalessi could understand their veiled insults.

One of them coughed. "We would be perfectly willing to exchange ownership of a large amount of unsullied in exchange for your dragon."

Daenerys, incensed replied "I would never trade my dragon..."

"What's in it for me?" Ghidorah asked.

The Masters were surprised to learn that this dragon could talk. "You shall not get whipped and shall be fed regularly?" one of them offered.

Surprisingly, this offer did not cater to Ghidorah's tastes.

"Do I look like the kind of pathetic animal you can whip!" he roared.

"...yes?"

"This City must burn."

"But why? Why support her over any of us!"

"I owe this chick because she let me suckle her breasts once. It's nothing personal."

There were no survivors.

"So what did you want again?" asked the Blood Mage.

"I need some magic to fill my breasts with mother's milk again" answered Daenerys tiredly, "I shall pay any price."

"But...why?"

"He said his contract had expired the day before we're to invade Westeros, and damn it! I did not endure a year of listening to him explaining all the jokes in a comic written for ten year olds only to fail now!"

Chapter Text

"In the Sight of the Seven I declare the start of this trial of combat." Tyrion - I mean the High Septon announced.

"Traitor!" yelled Cersei, "You have no right to do this!"

"Considering you were the one to call for trial of combat in the first place Cers - I mean dear child, it seems unreasonable to blame me for it" Tyrion replied, "Futhermore I cannot be a traitor as High Septons have to relinquish all prior allegiances upon taking office."

"As if you would ever do that you vile creature" Cersei hissed.

"I suggest you be quiet dear child, unless you want to tried on charges of heresy as well. Now regardless, where is your champion?" Tyrion said.

"I choose Gregor Clegane to act as my champion." announced Cersei, obviously trying to provoke a reaction.

"Ah, well that's unfortunate dear child, as I'm afraid Ser Gregor Clegane was executed on charges of heresy not three days past. In accordance with tradition he was hung, cut into seven pieces and thrown into the nearest available river. So I'm afraid dear child that it appears you have no champion to represent you" Tyrion said smugly.

Cersei's mouth dropped open in horror. "You...You..."

"I would like to further state, dear child, that this is in no way revenge for you being an absolute ass-twat during my entire childhood. Have a nice execution!"

Chapter Text

Rhaegar Targaryen is one of the most divisive figures in Westeros history. Oddly enough, none of this is due to people attempting to portray him as a monster but instead due to whether or not he was a good King or just an average one.

Rhaegar was born at Summerhall, during the reign of his grandfather Jaeherys (I think). He was a happy child, who was soon sent to ward with his uncle Steffon, his grandfather being disturbed by Aerys's madness. He became good friends with Robert Baratheon here, a friendship that would define his adult life. Together the two went out on many campaigns together, with a pack of friends including Jon Connington, Rhaegar's rumoured lover.

But happiness cannot last forever. In Rhaegar 18th year, his grandfather summoned him to King's Landing and there, in front of the entire court named him his heir. You see, while Rhaegar had dodged the spear of Targaryen madness his father had not. The Old King, fearing what Aerys would do without restraint removed him from the succession.

And so at the age of 18, Rhaegar was forced into the position of Prince of Dragonstone. He received daily lessons from his grandfather, the latter determined to ensure the survival of his legacy. And across the land, all lords of note prepared their daughters for his eyes. That is not to say that these years entirely sucked for the young prince. It was these years, after all that saw Rhaegar meet the love of his life, the beautiful Cersei Lannister - daughter of the Lord of Casterly Rock, Kevan Lannister.

Their courtship is too well known to be recorded here, but when the time came for Rhaegar to take the throne he requested for his grandfather to give the marriage his blessing, and on the latter's deathbed Jaeherys agreed. Nary a month after Rhaegar's crowning the two were married.

The next fifteen years are extremely boring so we'll just ignore them. There was a Blackfyre rebellion (the ninth or tenth), the Iron Islands rebelled (for the eleventh time) and Rhaegar had three children: Visenya, Aegon and Rhaenerys.

Also somehow he hatched dragons but no one cares about puny fire dragons.

Finally, in the whatever year of Rhaegar's reign the Others attempted to retake Westeros. They gave up quickly after meeting three dragonriders making the second long night barely last a month.

The question of whether or not Rhaegar was a good King comes from this question then. Were his achievements great or just meh when one considers he had three dragons?

Chapter Text

I was sure the shooting star had come down somewhere around here. I had been sitting in my tent trying in vain to sleep after the events that had taken place today.

"King in the North!"

Father was dead, Sansa and Arya were captives in King's Landing and even now Lannister troops befouled the Riverlands. As as passed over a ridge in the forest I saw it.

Lying in a deep, smoking hole in the ground was a strange, green oval. Grey Wind sniffed the air, but padded happily up to the object and nosed around one of the sides, which seemed to have the imprint of a door impressed in the...metal?

I followed slowly after Grey Wind, avoiding the smokier areas of the ground and examined the object closely. On the 'door' was inscribed the symbol of an odd lantern. I reached out to lay a hand on the object.

With a clang the 'door' sprang open and revealed it's contents. A small, grey figure lay strapped to a chair with an odd metal panel for his arms to rest on. The figure had large grey eyes which now rested upon me.

"What are you?" I muttered. The creature made no reponse and on a closer look I could see a large shard of steel impaled in its neck. It was dressed in an odd green tunic with no distinct features apart from a green glowing ring on its right hand.

I jumped back in shock, when the ring glowed brighter and wrenched itself off the being's hands and flew towards me. Before I could do anything the ring had forced itself on my own ring finger. Then the ring spoke.

"Greetings Robb Stark of Planetos 2814, you have been presented with a green lantern ring due to your exceptional willpower - and because you were the only person nearby. Welcome to the Green Lantern Corps."

What in all the Gods??!!

It was a nice day in King's Landing. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and King Joffrey was threatening peasants.

Okay, maybe not that nice.

Still at least nobody had died yet.

"JOFFREY WATERS!"

Out of nowhere that Tyrion could see, a hovering figure dressed in bright green had appeared - surrounded by glowing green swords.

"RETURN MY SISTER AT ONCE OR PAY THE ULTIMATE PRICE!"

Where the fuck did the Young Wolf learn how to do this?

"I am the King!" screamed Joffrey, "Kill him and bring me his head!"

A second later Joffrey had a massive green spear impaled through his chest.

Cersei, understandably screamed while Sansa Stark's face seemed to be stuck between absolute joy and psychotic glee.

"I'm here Robb" she yelled waving at the green figure.

The figure swooped down and lifted Sansa from her horse into his arms before he rose into the air again.

"ANY LAST WORDS LANNISTERS?"

There were no survivors.

Chapter Text

Because we need a reason for me to be transported to Planetos...a carnivorous rhino escaped from London Zoo and ate me, my family and half the population of the UK before being killed by Brian Blessed armed with a rocket launcher.

...

So anyway, being killed by a rhino isn't fun. Aside from the goring on it's tusks, being repeatedly run over and being eaten by teeth deliberately designed to make the experience as slow and excruciating as possible, I had to worry about it being a very sadistic rhino. It liked to play with it's food! Unsurprisingly, the experience took ages and involved a large amount of screaming - mostly from me.

So yeah. I'm dead. Deceased. Kicked the bucket. Left the mortal plane. Fallen off the - this joke has run its course. More importantly, if I'm dead why am I stuck in a black void with only my thoughts for company? And why aren't there any giant space turtles? And hang on! If this is the nothing after death, where is that crazy jazz music coming from?

A female voice suddenly said "Open your eyes."

"What?" I replied.

"Open your eyes. Now please."

"But.."

"Open you eyes so the damn story can start already you !#]?¥!!!"

To avoid being shanked by an invisible ghost voice (with the strange ability to speak in punctuation marks), I opened my eyes. I was in a large open room, painted a faded orange and embellished with designs of suns, spears and a man riding a turtle while waving a chainsaw above his head. One side of the room entered out onto a balcony from where I could see the tops of palm trees. A small door was set into the opposite wall and the room was filled with various pieces of furniture and various nicknacks. On one wall hung a large carving depicting from left to right: a man holding a large lantern, a woman holding a massive knife, a dwarf smiling smugly while wearing a huge crown and what looked like Kirby attempting to eat a lion.

I was laying on a large bed with orange sheets. Across from me lay a fair haired woman, utterly naked.

Well, I've heard of worse afterlives!

...

It was at this point that I noticed my own breasts.

"Arianne, are you sure you're alright?" the girl asked. I sighed.

"Yes, Tyene I'm fine" I replied "You can stop asking now." We were walking along one of the corridors in Sunspear towards the solar, where my new uncle, Oberyn would be waiting to break his fast. For any space bats that haven't twigged yet, I have found myself stuck in the body of Arianne Martell, heir(ess) to Dorne. And no, the fact that the entire castle felt like a sauna (Note to Self: invent the sauna...and the hot tub) was not the worst of my problems.

"You repeatedly ran into a wall while screaming about, quote 'Fucking Rhinos'" she replied, "Tell me I'm being unfair." It wasn't that bad...maybe?

"You're being unfair" I replied, "I told you, I just had a bad dream." A very, very, VERY bad dream that had seemed to go off on a tangent about women's undergarments. Twice.

"Ahhh, poor Arianne do you want me to make your head feel better?" Tyene simpered, before grabbing my ass as she sidled up alongside me.

"Tyene" I hissed, yanking myself away, "Be discreet!" It didn't help in the slightest that 'Arianne' seemed to get aroused at anything. For anyone wondering, yes, the rumours about the Dornish are true. And the heat does not help in the slightest.

"Oh please" Tyene replied, "I seriously doubt they don't already know." Well your father does, considering he walked in on us...I mean you and Arianne shagging like bunnies (Note to Self: Find Bunnies...also kill Littlefinger).

Chapter Text

Rhaegar: Hey my bro Ned! I need to talk to you.

Eddard: Prince who I believe raped my sister but I'm speaking civilly to for some reason, why are you here?

Rhaegar: I'm just here to tell you that Lyanna and I are totes in love and went willingly and you should totes stop rebelling. What do ya say, man?

Eddard: I was entirely unaware of this and swear eternal allegiance to you - ignoring the fact that you still broke Lyanna's betrothal and were indirectly responsible for the deaths of my brother and father.

'Robert Baratheon appears'

Robert: Ragghh! Me kill and rape Rhaegar corpse! Ragghh! Me usurper!

Eddard: Die you foul beast!

'Eddard stabs Robert in the chest.'

Robert: Oh fuck! Now my plans to steal Westeros (a place that I never actually cared for) are foiled. Damn you Dragon!!!

'Robert dies and everyone cheers, including Stannis'

Rhaegar: Yay! Cookies for everyone!

Eddard: ...I don't think they've been invented yet.

Rhaegar: They've been invented because I say so! Humph...also I need to betroth mine and Lyanna's kid (who for some strange reason will still be called Jon) to your daughter.

Eddard: I'm pretty sure I have a son first.

Rhaegar: No! He daughter now! ...speaking of which...

'Rhaegar looks at Ned'

Rhaegar: heheheheheheheheheeeee...

Several years later, in Winterfell...

Eddard (or Robb, Howland Reed, Maester Aemon, Dany, Brandon...): Jon. The time has come for me to reveal the true identity of your mother.

Jon: Oh goodie! I've always had a deep longing to know who my mother is. Cookies for everyone!

Eddard: ...you sound just like that bastard. Ahem, I'm afraid not. Your mother was my sister Lyanna.

Jon: YOU SLEPT WITH YOUR OWN SISTER!!!

Eddard: No!...Well there was that time we were hyped up on drugs but still, No.

Jon: Wait, does this mean my father is King Robert?

Eddard: Baratheons have blue eyes.

Jon: Uncle Brandon?

Eddard: No.

Jon: Uncle Benjen?

Benjen's distant voice:...no!...

Jon: Lady Catelyn?

Catelyn: WHAT?

Jon: Robb?

Robb: How would that even work?

Jon: Oberyn Martell?

Eddard: Your father is Rhaegar! There, I said it!

Jon:...nah. That doesn't make any sense at all. Besides which, Rhaegar's too dreamy to be my father...'swoons'

Eddard:...I hate my life.

Chapter Text

It was a perfectly ordinary day in King's Land - wait I've already used that intro. Ummm.

As always, King's Landing smelt and looked like shit. From the buildings, to the people to the accused throne itself you could never quite get away from the smell. But that has nothing whatsoever to do with anything.

Tyrion stared in stunned silence at the creature that had just appeared in the middle of the docks of King's Landing. It was round, bright pink, and had stubby little hands and legs and a wide toothless smile.

"Hiiiiiiii!" Said the creature, waving with both its arms before it caught sight of a basket of food and bounded over to eat it.

"Dog!" Shouted Joffrey, "That thing is clearly working for the Starks. Kill it so I can send its corpse back to them!"

The Hound and several gold cloaks made to move on the creature.

"I'm not sure that that's a good idea..." Tyrion tried to interject.

Too Late.

The creature turned around suddenly and opening its mouth wider than should have been possible...sucked the goldcloaks and Sandor Clegane inside of itself.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Poyo!" said the creature, before it suddenly glowed and in an instant it was wearing the Hound's Helm.

Then it pulled out a sword.

There were no survivors.

Jon Connington screamed in horror as the Shy Maid was sucked out of the waters of the Rhoyne and into the mouth of the pink sucking abomination.

Aegon would had screamed as well but was unable too as even his voicebox was fake. As it happens he just sort of lay there, staring blankly at the wall as his lower jaw fell off from where it had been crudely attached to the puppet.

"Poyo!" shouted Kirby, "Po Po Poyo Poi!" For those wondering, when I typed this phrase into a translator, said translator threw itself in front of a train.

"Halt!" shouted a loud, magnificently hammy voice. It was G.R.R Martin himself, God of the ASOIAF universe!

"I cannot allow this to go any further!" he exclaimed, "This is too genocidal and cruel, even for me!" Kirby didn't say anything as he was busy throwing Maijin Buu into the sun. Backwards.

"Pay attention!" shouted George, pulling out a giant Valyrian Steel Chainsaw. "Your villainy ends here!"

Kirby blinked...then ate the chainsaw.

"Oh shit."

Kirby would go on to slaughter the Dothraki, eat Daenerys Targaryen's entire army (including the dragons) and eventually destroy so much of the world that he somehow ended up in Middle-Earth. But that's another story...

With King's Landing in flames behind him/that/it the Pink Puffball of Doom advanced north along the Kingsroad. He had mistaken it for the path to King Dedede's castle (aka: a Penguin in a Santa Suit) and was happily skipping along, consuming the local wildlife.

As this takes place in Clash of Kings, he all too soon ran into Gregor Clegane's 'foraging party' (read: rape, murder and arson) around the area of the God's Eye. Somehow Kirby hadn't noticed the obnoxious black ruined castle to his left.

"What the hell is that!" cried the Tickler,
"It's all pink and...adorable. It's ruining the grimdark!" Kirby hadn't noticed this as he was chasing a butterfly.

Clegane grunted and pulled out a massive meat cleaver. He stared at it for a moment, then put it back and drew his greatsword. He then spurred his horse (Tinkerbell) over to the puffball.

Absentmindedly, Kirby spun around and ate the mounted warrior before returning his attention to the far more important butterfly.

"Well this is awkward" muttered a Lannister soldier.

"I'll say!" shouted a booming voice. The mountain's men almost fell off their horses at the sight of a giant three-headed dragon glaring down at them. "That was the dick this chick was paying me to kill!" He gestured with a claw at a white-haired girl on his back who waved shyly. "By the way, do any of you arseholes know where Harrenhal is? I've been flying around for ages and I can't spot it!"

"It's right...there..." said the Tickler pointing at the huge obnoxious castle that dominated the landscape.

"Oh" said Ghidorah, "Why didn't I notice that before?"

"Poyo!" said Kirby.

 To be continued...

Chapter Text

Operative: Brandon Stark

Mission: Defend Westeros from any and all Supernatural Threats (including White Walkers, psychotic Dragon Riders and the plot of Season 8

Operation 1: Kill Joffrey

My name is Brandon Stark, technical Lord of Winterfell (as everyone else is either dead, female, a bastard or behind me in succession). Due to everyone failing at their jobs I have been forced to result to time travel, so as to save the realm from itself - and the White Walkers.

The first step I had to do would be at King Robert's arrival in Winterfell, where I would have to arrange the murder of those people planning to destroy the realm. I could not fail.

----------------

"Brandon Stark, you are convicted of the murder of Prince Joffrey Baratheon, Queen Cersei Lannister and the High Septon. Do you have anything to say in your defence!" announced Robert Baratheon from the Iron Throne, his old warhammer laid across his lap.

"...It was an accident?" I suggested, before mumbling "Bloodraven help!" under my breath.

"Sorry Kid. You're on your own" the voice of Bloodraven replied.

"Yes, because that clearly explains why you were stood over all three of their bodies holding a knife and cackling like a madman" the King replied. He didn't seem convinced.

Operation 2: Prevent Eddard Stark's Death

Okay, I had failed completely the first time I had tried time travel but I was sure this would work. My plan was to travel back in time far enough to prevent my father from developing his...uh, obsession with honour.

I had travelled back to the days of his wardship of the Eyrie to achieve this and easily managed to get hired as a guard in the Eyrie. Now all I needed to do was be patient.

----------------

"In the sight of Gods and Men I pronounce Eddard of the House Stark, First of his Name King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Defender of the Realm." said the High Septon as he laid the crown on my kneeling father.

Fuck.

"I also pronounce his wife Cersei of House Lannister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms to rule beside him."

Oh, Fuck. "Bloodraven Help!"

"I honestly don't see any problem with this. Their combined power will act as a great block which can be easily used against the Others."

"Yes, but I have to stand outside their door listening to them shovel each other's brains out!"

Operation 3: Prevent Lyanna from being kidnapped

I just have to kill Rhaegar, then everything will be fine. I just have to kill Rhaegar.

----------------

"Jon, I have a confession to make." My father said, unknowingly both to Jon and me who had warged into a pigeon. "Your mother was in fact my sister Lyanna due to an...incident in our younger years."

Damn it! Whoever knew drugging Lyanna so she would stay in Winterfell would result in this!

Jon seemed to agree with me, considering he was lying on the ground throwing up.

Bloodraven wouldn't stop laughing.

Operation 4a: Stop the White Walkers

Okay I might have screwed up last time (and the time before, and the time before, and...) but this time my plan was foolproof. I had travelled back to my childhood at Winterfell to convince my family to look north instead of south. There was no way this could fail!

----------------

The city of Oldtown burnt as Robb Stark, dressed in the armour of the Night's King marched towards the Hightower, an army of wights and others behind him. His sword still dripped with the ghost of his father's blood.

"Kid. What the FUCK have you done?" Bloodraven yelled.

Bran the Wight didn't say anything in reply, probably because he no longer had a jaw.

Operation 4b: Stop the White Walkers

Why does my jaw ache?

----------------

Robyn Stark grabbed Daenerys by the neck and in a instant had forced a spike of ice through her neck. Behind her Arya and Sansa were taking on Ser Barristan Selmy, alternating between demonic giggling and bloodthirsty screeches. In the meantime, Ricka was busy a rather ugly snow castle in a corner.

"I repeat my previous comment!" said Bloodraven.

Bran, who was once again superglued to a tree could only stare in horrified silence.

Operation 5: Convince Daenerys to come to Westeros on Time

Right! Enough with the White Walkers. Clearly I could do nothing to stop my family either siding with them (!) or being completely wiped out.

Clearly the solution was to bring in a dragon.

----------------

Extract from Maester Yandel's 'War of the Five Kings'

And so the last of the Targaryens rode off into the far south of Sothoryos with her dragons and was never heard of again. Ever. At all.

Operation 6: Marry Meera

I've finally figured out while all my attempts at fixing the past have failed. The universe likes to do the opposite of what I want to happen. Therefore what I need to do to succeed is to work towards the exact opposite of what I actually want to happen!

----------------

The great hall of Winterfell was filled with the lords and ladies of the north. At the centre of the high table sat Eddard Stark, Warden of the North with his family, including his son and heir Robb and his betrothed Lady Meera Reed.

The only exception to this was his second son Brandon, who had been confined to his room due to his insulting attitude towards the guests. It was not appropriate behaviour for a Stark of Winterfell.

"On what level did you think this plan would work?" asked Bloodraven.

"Go suck an Egg!" shouted Bran.

"Language child, language."

Operation 7: Defeat the Others the first time Round

Right, so apparently that doesn't work when you actually want someone to like you.

...

I've got nothing.

----------------

"So I'll agree to stay on my side of the wall if you agree to stay on your side, okay?" said Brandon (the builder).

The Other chattered agreeably and reached across to shake Brandon's hand.

"No! This is all wrong!" shouted the other (haha) Brandon, who was being restrained by two guards. "You're supposed to be wiping them out!"

The Other chattered and pointed a finger at the struggling boy.

"Ah, ignore him" said the builder, "He's just some hobo we found on the side of the road."

"Only you could accidentally convince the Others to make a peace agreement."

"Shut up Bloodraven!!!"

Operation 8: Kill George R.R Martin

Right! I've had it!

Why in the name of the seven do I always fail?!

Is my suffering for the sake of some sadistic gods who need a laugh or something?!!

Actually yes.

Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my head?

I'm the ASB in charge of your little adventures.

Soooo, you're an Old God?

No.

The Seven?

No.

The Red God?

No.

The Drowned God?!!

NO! If anything George R.R Martin is the closest to one of those in your universe.

George?...

----------------

"Fuck!" swore George as Kirby sucked his Valyrian Steel Chainsaw right out of his hands.

"That's the last thing you've going to be doing!" shouted Brandon, as he warped in holding a giant glowing green waraxe.

"What?"

"Poyo?"

"I've...got nothing."

The End...?

Chapter Text

The Never-Awaited Sequel to 'Kirby vs Planetos' and 'Daenerys Hatches King Ghidorah)

After the horrific battles in the Riverlands and the destruction of the Stark and Lannister forces (Ghidorah ate Tywin, Kirby ate Robb and Daenerys ate Catelyn) the three of them followed the Kingsroad north. If you're wondering why Daenerys didn't head to King's Landing, the answer is that her legs had fallen asleep.

Somehow they completely missed Moat Cailin and entered the north untroubled (seriously how did they miss it! It's right at the end of the Kingsroad! It's even sillier than missing Harrenhal!). Ahem.

At some point Kirby had eaten a Bolton and the resulting appearance was making the other two determined not to look at him. Ghidorah had started chewing on a torn up Wierwood Tree (greenseer still attached) and Daenerys (riding on his back) was frantically attempting to remember anything she knew about the North.

"The Northmen are savages who feed each other to trees and then wrestle wolves. They always wear skins and worship the god 'the Constructanator."

The answer: Nothing. (Thanks Viserys!)

Eventually (after visiting Winterfell and deciding that it was already ruined enough) the three arrived at a massive ice wall called...the wall.

"We'll have to rename it after you finish the conquest" muttered Ghidorah.

"But we should stick to tradition!" Daenerys cried, "after all, we are restoring a dynasty."

"After you've burnt down half the kingdom getting here, there isn't much tradition left."

"What do you mean me! Half of that was you!"

"Poyo!"

The Night's Watch upon seeing the three heading towards them had done the sensible thing...and hidden in the basement. After all, no one wants to fight a three-headed dragon, or a flayed pink puffball (because remember, he ate a Bolton), and the girl didn't look nice either. For reference, she was currently using Catelyn as a winter cloak.

Unfortunately, no one had told the Wildlings that they should probably hide too.

"The Wall is ours!" cried Tormond Giantsbane, standing upon said Wall and looking out at the plains of the Gift beyond. Unfortunately by doing this, he was blocking the way for anyone else to climb up and so was rapidly becoming unpopular.

"Move your fat arse!" shouted Mance, hoisting a very pregnant Dailia up the Wall behind him. "We need to get over the Wall before the Others arrive."

"I just wanted to rest for a moment!" shouted Tormond.

"And I just want to hunt down my ex-boyfriend" muttered Ygritte, somehow still sharpening her arrows while still using both hands to climb.

Meanwhile, in the basement where the Night's Watch is hiding...

"Et Tu Jon?" gasped Maester Aemon clutching his many wounds, sightless eyes staring at where he imagined the boy was.

"For the Watch" said Jon, before plunging his knife into the Targaryen's throat. Olly looked on approvingly.

And back at the top of the Wall...

Finally, after much effort the Wildlings managed to move Tormond and gather at the top of the Wall. Of course, by that I mean the named Wildlings had managed to scale the Wall. The rest of the Free Folk had been left behind to serve as cannon fodder due to their lack of plot armour. The exceptions to this were one of the wargs (who had been shoved off the side for being irritating) and Val who had somehow ended up in a different universe entirely; run by a space bat with a fondness for wiping out entire civilisations (*cough*).

"Now my people!" cried Mance, "Nothing can stand in the way of Rome!...I mean the Free Folk!"

"Except the fact that we still have to climb down the other side" said Ygritte, "as apparently the crows have dismantled the elevator."

"...and the dragon..." whispered Tormond.

"Bah!" said Mance, "It will be an easy journey now that the worst is over."

"...there's a dragon..."

"At least three of us have frostbite!" said Dalla, "How is this easy?"

"...why is there a dragon..."

"Because the walkers will no longer be chasing - wait! What Dragon?!"

The 'dragon' in question was currently sat on a section of the wall about 20 metres away, once again reading a copy of the Beano. His companions were busy arguing over directions, clutching at a strange black tablet.

"I tell you, the gym is this way!" shouted Daenerys, snatching the iPad away from Kirby.

"Poyo! Po Poyo!" shouted the Puffball back.

"Do not speak to a member of House Targaryen in that way!" screeched the dragon-queen. "Rhaega - I mean, Ghidorah! Back me up!"

"But this is the comic in which Danny and Toots finally kiss!" whined the Dragon, "I'm busy!"

"Westeros Go is far more important than your shittyass comic!" replied Dany, "We need to find out where the Wildling gym is so we catch a Shadowmeowth!" The dragon sighed.

"They're standing right over there" he said, pointing at the Free Folk attempting frantically to disguise themselves as icicles.

"...how do we keep missing these - never mind!" Daenerys shouted, "Game on!"

"Poyo!" shouted Kirby.

"Ohhhhh, a free water pistol!" said Ghidorah.

A Long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

A star fell to the earth, deep in the north of our world. And from where it had fallen, the broken star spewed silver blood and blue flame. The people of this far north, separated from the others of their kind by vast distances coveted the fire and blood. The blood would fill their stomachs more than any food or water, strengthening their bodies against the cold winds of winter. The flame would last eternally, granting them warmth in this cold lifeless land. From these gifts they grew stronger than their southern brethren, their bodies and minds changing them from men into...more than men. Their eyes turned blue like the stars and their hair turned silver like its blood. The magic seeped into them, forming them anew as the children of winter.

The star was called a Nova.

Anyway, back to the present day...

"You know" said Ghidorah, chewing on one of Tormond's legs, "This isn't half bad! No wonder you people eat meat instead of radiation."

"Poyo!" said Kirby, nodding his head while inhaling part of Ygritte's torso.

"Dammit!" Daenerys hissed, throwing her tablet to the ground. She stormed off to sulk at the edge of the Wall.

"What is it?" asked Ghidorah.

"We didn't catch a Val-chu" she sneered out, "How am I meant to complete the West-Dex without all the characters?! This game is rigged!"

"Its a pay as you go, what did expect?" asked Ghidorah, "It even affects the Beano games!"

Meanwhile Kirby had wandered off to investigate strange rumblings from behind the massive structure they had been fighting the others on. There he came face to face with an enormous Ice Dragon (who may or may not be Viserion depending on whether the show rumours are accurate) preparing to attack the three of them from behind.

Of course, sudden jumpscares scare Kirby - you do not want to be around him when he plays Fnaf - so he immediately panicked and ate the Ice Dragon sending its rider plunging into thin air.

"Fuuuucccckkkk!!!" screamed the Night's King - who as he hasn't been given a name, shall be referred to as Barry. It had been a good day so far for Barry; he'd fed his beloved spider Nancy, had a large bowl of Frosties for breakfast, massacred a large group of wildlings and had a nice turn of the massage beds (serviced by wights).

Zombified hands made excellent stress removers.

It was at this point the words 'ice spider' made there way properly through Barry's mind. Quick as a hummingbird, he whistled and the Ice Spider (whose species was closely related to the Jumping Spider for those who didn't know) caught him before he could do a Jon in 'Ned Stark Lives'

Barry took a few moments to work through his panic, making sure he hadn't dropped anything, cleaning his glasses, rubbing his eyes - the usual. He then nodded to twenty of his followers (Twenty good men you might say...), pulled out his ice blade and led a charge up the Wall to avenge maybe!Viserion's death.

Ghidorah, disturbed by all the noice peered over the side of the Wall and blasted a laser breath.

There were no survivors.

"Ghidorah!" Daenerys shrieked, "That was the next gym leader!"

"Oops..."

"Ah don't worry" said Kirby, "Super Mario Run will be out soon enough and I'll probably get my own game eventually."

Daenerys and Ghidorah stared.

"I mean...Poyo?"

"You son of a..."

The End (for real this time).

Moral: Transporting Kaijus and Eldritch Abominations to Westeros doesn't make for a fair fight.

Chapter Text

'Sansa and Joffrey are trumbling down to their deaths'

(To the Tune of 'A Whole New World')

Sansa: We're falling down through the air!

Spinning, tumbling downwards!

Until, soon our bodies will hit the hard, stone ground below!

Off the castle we go!!!

Into Oblivion and Hellfire!

Soon your body be'll flattened like the Dragons were before!!!

We're Falling Downnnn...

Joffrey: WE'RE FALLING DOWN!!!!!

Sansa: Soon both our bodies will meet the floorrrr...

Joffrey: MOTHER HELP!!!!!!

Sansa: I'm like a bird up here,

It's crystal clear!

That soon your bastard face will be no MOOOORRREEE!!!!!!!!!!

Joffrey: AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Sansa: Will be no more...

Ned's Head: Will be no more...

Sansa: Like a pancake flat...

Mordane's Head: Like a pancake flat...

Joffrey: WHAT'S A PANCAKE!!!

Sansa: As well as me...

'Splat'

Meanwhile, back on the battlements:

Sandor: Oops...

Ser Meryn: ...Shit.

Sandor: Bugsy not telling the Queen.

Ser Meryn: You son of a...

Chapter Text

The Fractured Faith (A Study of the Different Sects of the Faith of the Seven) - transcribed by Maester Samwell

Westeros

The Northern Faith (White Harbour region and North Vale)

The Northern Faith (as it is referred to in the proclamations of the crown) is the second youngest of the divisions, only rising to prominence after the reign of Maegar the Cruel. This movement values healing above all else, presumably as a result of the harsh Northern winters. This is part of the reason behind the stripped back nature of the division, with their septs being much plainer and their coin going first to the needy. The generally poorer economy compared to the south is also a reason for this. Their patron is the Lord Manderly.

Allegory for Modern Protestantism.

The Combined Faith of Old and New (The North and the Riverlands)

The youngest of the schisms, this movement rose to prominence soon after the first Blackfyre rebellion (though it was not caused by that event). It teaches that the Seven are just some of the many Old Gods and that they can be worshipped through either a sept of a Wierwood Tree. Ironically, they are probably the closest of the current divisions to the original faith in Andalos. Their patron is currently the Lady Stark.

The Faith of the Eight (Iron Islands)

By far the weakest of all the divisions, this movement combines the Drowned God with the Seven as an eigth God - called the Sailor. Their septs are fairly plain, due to the poverty of the islands themselves. Their patron is Baelor Blacktyde, who converted following Balon's Rebellion.

Taken from canon.

The True Faith (Riverlands, Crownlands, Stormlands, Eastern and Northern Westerlands)

The oldest and most powerful of all the current schisms, the 'True' faith has spent countless years attempting to convince the crown to allow them to convert the other movements 'back' to their point of view - at the point of a sword if necessary. Their septs are lavishly decorated and they have biggest coffers in the kingdom apart from Great Houses. They operate out of the great Sept of Baelor though they dream of 'retaking' the Starry Sept in Oldtown. Their patron is the King on the Iron Throne.

Allegory for Bloody Mary's Catholicism (not modern Catholicism - that's nothing like this movement). Also from canon (sort of).

The Sparrows (Crownlands)

A small but growing movement, the sparrows claim to be the true successors of the faith from the time of King Maegor. They may be linked to militant activity. Their leader is known as the High Sparrow.

Taken from canon.

The Old Faith (The Reach, Western Dorne and the southern Westerlands)

Not actually the oldest of the movements, this schism occurred sometime around 210 years after Aegon's Conquest. They operate out of the Starry Sept and are in reality fairly similar to the 'True' Faith - though with less alligations of militantism. Their patron is the Lord Hightower and they closely work with the Citedal in Oldtown.

The Greenblood Faith (Eastern Dorne)

Similar to the Faith of the Eight, this schism combines the Seven with another God, namely Mother Rhoyne. Their septs have a distinctly Dornish feel, though carvings of water are very common. Their patron is the Prince (or princess) of Sunspear.

Essos

Hugor's Faith (Andalos)

The Earliest of all sects in the known world, Hugor's Faith is based solely on the original texts of the Faith. Unlike all the other sects it does not appoint a High Septon (as even the Combined Faith of the North has a head Green man), with each sept being self-governing. Aside from that, the faith has the most similarities with the faiths of the North, with septs being sparse and plain, with coin being distributed first to the poor. It is worth noting however that the order of knights is very different to anywhere in Westeros. The men will serve the Faith exclusively for seven years, after which they are granted land by the sept they serve.

The Knights are inspired by the Grail Knights from Warhammer.

The Faith over the Sea (Braavos)

The Faith over the Sea is technically a subsection of the 'True' Faith in King's Landing. However due to the distance between the regions, this series of septs is mostly self-governing and has developed several different practises to the other movements. For instance, they are probably the schism most dedicated to spreading their beliefs, sending travelling septons to many other Free Cities. They also use there own variations of the books of the Seven.

Allegory to Mormonism.

The Red Faith (Volantis)

An odd schism of the Faith (and technically a subsection of another religion altogether), this movement is based upon the belief that the Seven are all different aspects of the Red God Rhillor. Most of the ritual and iconography takes after the Red Faith, up to and including uses priests instead of septons and temples instead of septs. They regard all other schisms as heratics.

Based off the concept of the Holy Trinity.

Chapter Text

A Transcript of the Rejected Casterly Tea Advert, 'A Very Merry Lannister Christmas' - 2016AC

Scene 1: Red Keep Ext.

Opening on a cold Christmas morning, the street outside the Red Keep. FX: Falling snow. Ent. Jaime Lannister, walking towards the front door, tight camera as he reaches it and knocks.

Jaime: Anyone home?

Door is opened by Cersei Lannister wearing nothi - [this commercial is going to watched by kids Brynden! She can't be naked on kids TV!] (Fine...)

Jaime: Oops! Looks like I have the wrong house!

Jaime makes to leave.

Cersei: 'Laughs' Sister!

They embrace lovingly, tight camera as Jamie's hand moves to caress Cersei's ass - [Brynden! Kids TV!] (Sorry, forgot.)

Cersei: Come inside! You must be freezing!

Zoomed out camera on front door as they enter, door closing behind them.

Scene 2A: Cersei's chamber Int.

A large expensively furnished solar, with one door and two windows. Two chairs and a desk dominate the middle of the room. FX: Fireplace

Ent. Cersei and Jaime from door, Jaime lugging a large sack.

Jaime: Just got back from the Riverlands. Had to spend longer than we expected hunting down the Blackfish.

Cersei: I've had the maids up all night waiting for you. I myself of course, was sleeping.

Jaime: Ah thanks.

The two of them sit down on chairs next to the desk. Cersei pours two glasses of wine while Jaime takes of his shirt - [He does what?!] (The kids won't mind!) [Brynden, you're fired. Edmure, you're in command now.]

Flashcut to Scene 2B: Upstairs bedroom of Tywin Lannister.

Tywin Lannister stirs under his bed covers. The sound of laughter can be heard from downstairs.

Tywin: He's back, he's back! [Oh shit, my kids are fucking each other!] (Robb!) [What, its funny when I do it!]

Flashcut back to Scene 2A.

Jaime and Cersei are still sitting on chairs, the latter leaning on the desk.

Jaime: I got you something from the Riverlands.

Jaime pulls out a small box, decorated with a bow.

Cersei: Thanks.

Cersei pauses, before removing the bow and placing it on Jaime.

Cersei: You're my present this year.

They stare lovingly each each other's eyes and lean in, just as Tywin and Tyrion Lannister walk in.(Tyrion: What the Shibbels!) [Brynden you've been fired! Please leave!]

Voiceover: The best part about waking up, is Casterly's in your cup!

{Eh guys...I'm not sure how this sells tea}
[True, I'll see if the public safety people are interested]
(It can't be worse than the 'Direwolves are not pets' one)

Merry (Early) Christmas!!!

Chapter Text

"Woe by to him who breaks Guest Right. Woe be to him who breaks the First Right. For no greater punishment shall be dealt, no greater price shall be paid than their fate. Fear the Beast of Caerbannog!"
- The Green Man of Oldstones, Unknown Date.

There are many legends of Westeros concerned with those who break Guest Right, oldest and most dearly held of the tenets imposed by the Old Gods. From the Rat Cook, turned into an animal to Rodrick Greystark, forcibly fused with a Heart Tree. But the most well known of the punishments is the one reserved for groups of people, those who have angered the gods enough to cause the end of their houses.

For them is reserved the great beast of Caerbannog.

The beast of Caerbannog is said to inhabit a castle of the edge of the North, formerly belonging to a group of its victims. The legends say it has claws of Valyrian Steel, teeth of Dragonbone, eyes that can freeze a man in their tracks at a thousand paces. No one alive has ever confirmed the rumours and only bones are left where the beast passes. Many legends further state that the Demon came from another land entirely, but arrived in Westeros many centuries ago looking for a priceless artifact known only as 'The Holy Hand Grenade'. According to the story, even the Old Gods were unable to defeat the beast as it carved a bloody swathe across the North; only forging a peace by granting it this most terrible place in their pantheon (and for some reason regularly giving it carrots).

Roose Bolton had never believed the rumours. After all, while the gods existed it was ridiculous to imagine that they would keep a demon imprisoned just for a single purpose. And why would a demon want carrots anyway? He had continued believing that until the rabbit leaped at him from the shadows, quickly slicing his throat open with its claws.

Walder Frey (who my computer wanted to autocorrect to 'Wanker') had never even heard of the beast, though he was quick to scream and run when Roose Bolton's head literally fell of his shoulders. He did not make it far, the rabbit tearing its way inside his torso and feasting on what it found there.

The only thing the people outside the Twins know of what happened that night, is that the Freys and Boltons were punished for their role in the Red Wedding. When they entered the castle in the morning they would only find bones, not even a drop of blood on the ground. Even the dogs and ravens had not been spared the Old Gods wrath. And when the Lannisters and Tyrells at King's Landing befell the same fate, none were truly surprised. For the men and women involved had broken Guest Right and so brought down the wrath of the Rabbit of Caerbannog!

And there were no survivors.

You really shouldn't have done that Theon...

It was a bright and shining day in the burnt out ruin formerly known as Winterfell. Roose Bolton was brooding in his solar, Ramsey was out torturing his new wife, Theon was knee-deep in 'Reek' Mode and Sansa was nowhere around because that plotline made no sense. And sucked.

The first sign that something was...more wrong than usual was the rumbling from below. The second was the sudden exodus of any animals, from ravens to dogs to horses to rats - all heading south as fast as their legs (or wings) could carry them.

To give credit to the Bolton men, they quickly realised that something out of the ordinary was occurring. And when the growling from the crypt began they were quick to bar the door and form up ranks around it.

Sadly, spears and swords are little use against a elder being as the guardsmen found out to their displeasure. A great white shape burst out through the cracked doors, smashing twenty of the guardsmen aside with a single swipe of a frozen mace.

"At last!" boomed the abomination, "I am free from my eternal prison! Brandon the Builder's curse has failed!"

The released Great Other reared his mockery of a face, a taut white skull made of ice and glared hatefully upon the surviving humans.

"Now the true winter begins!"

----------------

There were no survivors.

Chapter Text

Letter 1 - Robb

Dear Jon,

I don't know why I'm writing you this letter; I doubt it will ever get to you - the real you, not the doppelgängers of this world. Perhaps if I knew how I ended up here, but the last thing I remember from our world is dying at the hands of Roose Bolton. I doubt the man himself could have done this, even though he would probably want to just to make my failure worse. Or for that matter the Freys.

You're the only one of us who isn't massively changed in this place, your copy still being male and still joining the Night's Watch. I'm afraid your relationship with mother was even worse though, apparently brought on by my 'differences'. Theon's with you at the Wall apparently, having been forced to join after he revealed himself to be a jackass earlier than in our world. I hope his cock falls off while he's there. Which is assuming your double or Benjen's hasn't shoved him off the top yet.

Unfortunately the rest of our siblings haven't been so lucky. Sansa is now an arrogant swine called Sandor, even more obsessed with the south than she was back home. Even more disturbingly, he still fawns over Joffrey and according to my doppelgänger's memories, desires to be a member of the Kingsguard. Which is worrying considering he's the heir to Winterfell. I plan to try and shove him onto the intelligent path but apparently none of our clones's previous attempts have worked.

Arya (or Arry) seems to have come out on this side a bit better. Worships you, of course and dreams of joining the Night's Watch. He might be mother's favourite in this world, finally a child that looked like father, a son no less.

Bran (or Brienne) was still crippled here. She and Roslin (aka Rickon) stayed back home with Arry. I only hope the assassin doesn't manage to make it through to them without me there.

And as for me, well this letter is being sent to you by the future queen of Westeros. My clone was no exception to the sudden sex change, with my mind now being stuck inside the body of Lady Robyn Stark, betrothed of Prince Joffrey Baratheon.

Yes, you heard that right.

I just hope I can poison the shit at some point because I'm not sure how else I'm going to get out of here. I don't even care if the Lannister's steal the throne, I just don't want father's murderer on top of me! It doesn't help that none of my sword skills have come over, Robyn's mind being cluttered with sewing and dancing. Though at least she seems to have hated both of those, lending her attention more to politics- which I admit were what knocked me over in the end.

I have to leave now - father has asked me to accompany him to the tourney - but I will write again soon if I can. It's the only thing keeping me sane at this point. If you do get this letter - try to find Sansa and Arya and protect them. You're the only family they'll have left now. Tell them how sorry I am for failing them.

Your brother, Robb

Letter 2 - Jon

Robb,

I...seven hells, how are you alive? And in another world to boot? Robb, I can barely believe it but your letter did appear in front of me, by no mundane means. Could the gods have done this for you as a reward? A life taken under Guest Right given back? But why not send you to this world, instead of one where you're a woman?

I'm afraid things have not been going well on this side either brother. Your army collapsed after the Red Wedding - that's what they call Bolton's Betrayal now - and the Lannisters and their friends swept in to pick up the leftovers. Roose Bolton's army is heading home through the neck I imagine, according to the news here he's been given Winterfell and father's old titles. There aren't enough Northerners willing to fight him for him to be stopped.

I can't leave the Night's Watch now to help them in their fight; no matter how much I wish to. I tried leaving when you first called the banners and was only brought back by my friends crying on about honour - though considering I hadn't taken my oaths, I...oh Robb, I should have been with you; even if we both died. Screw my honour, I should have been helping you save our siblings. I could have warned you about Theon or the Karstarks or the Westerlings. I could have convinced you not to break the pact with the Freys!

I don't know what to tell you.

But you should know, apparently Bran at least survived Theon's attack on Winterfell. I don't know how he managed it, but my friend Sam found him Beyond the Wall with the two Reed children. The problem is Sam didn't bring him back to the Wall and let him carry on. I'm keeping scouts on the lookout, but with the Free Folk massing to attack the North, there isn't much chance that we'll find him first.

Robb, you have to keep these letters secret. Burn them if necessary, but you can't let the people in that world find out what you're planning. I'm not saying don't kill Joffrey - do, the shit deserves it - but be stealthy. Getting caught will only end with you dying again and who knows if you'll even come back this time? Work from the shadows, follow the Queen's example. You need to be above suspicion. You need to be Joffrey's loving betrothed who could never bear to murder him.

It will be hard, I know. Sansa/Sandor from what you said will be difficult. Try to appeal to his pride and any sense of duty, he has to have one if father raised him anything like you and me.

I still miss you,
Jon

Letter 3 - Robb

Jon,

Sandor (our brother, not the Hound) is a complete ass! Can you believe it, I accidentally manage to poke myself with the needle while doing sewing work and he immediately starts going on about 'embarrassing our house'. If he insults me again I'll show him embarrassing our house! I was tempted to punch the little shit, whose been an absolute arsehole ever since we arrived in King's Landing - I mean, since I was transporting here. As it happens, I threatened to convince father to send him home. That shut him up!

Maybe my mood would be better if I wasn't stuck in the middle of my moonblood, having to deal with all the cramps and stabbing pain that annoys mother so much. I wonder if our Sansa has had to deal with this yet? I'm not entirely sure if I would wish it on her because believe me, my arse is in agony! Even Robyn's memories going on about this being 'normal' aren't helping because sorry; there is blood coming out of my ass and there's nothing I can do about it!

At least politics has been going better for me here, though all things considered that's not saying much. The Queen despises me for whatever reason, even though I've been forced to be nothing but polite. Maybe she's pissed that someone other than her is marrying her son - I wouldn't put it past the cunt. And yes, she's definitely fucking her brother here as well. I see those looks they're giving each other! She better hope she's never locked in a room alone with me or I might just strangle her to death!

I'm the darling of the rest of the court however, 'Prince Joffrey's beautiful bride to be'. Suck-ups. They're hoping I don't notice their comments about 'my beauty being smothered in the North' or similar nonsense. All of the ladies are either Cersei's dogs or half-witted Crownlander wives attracted to the capital. I've held my tongue around them - for father's sake more than anything - but if I had Dacey's mace...

I've started doing an Arya, hanging around with the servants. They're so much less irritating than the court, sensible and less obsessed with appearances or niceties and besides which - if we need to get out of the city quickly it would be good to have them on our side: though Sandor will probably insist on staying. And I'll need their allegiance if...Robyn is meant to marry Joffrey at the end of the month.

And I've got no idea how to pull out of it. I've made no secret of my dislike for the prince to our father, but his friendship with the King has blinded him to how frankly terrified I am! I don't know what to do; I can't stab him to death in his sleep, I can't poison him, I can't get Sandor to cause an incident! I've got my skill for tactics and Robyn's for politics but nothing will help! If this was a battlefield I'd know what to do but I'm stuck in this stupid body, forced to participate in duties that were never mine in the first place!

I don't know what to do Jon. I...I need you here with me. Help me.

Robb

Letter 4 - Robyn

Brother,

You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine, I can look after myself. The little shit is easy to train, once you've learnt how.

So I haven't used the dagger you enclosed in your last letter. The boy is no threat to me now, not after I've discovered a secret that even he didn't know about himself. For you see, while the pain of others will bring him a perverse joy - as we suspected - so too will his own. A few slaps of the whip and he's clay in my hands, mortar to shape as I see fit. In return for the simple honour to worship his Queen, he will do anything to please me. And to get myself through it, I just have to think of all of you safe.

I failed at that in our world, I won't fail here.

But moving on from Joffrey, regarding your situation with Stannis and his Red Woman. You should accept his offer. I've no love for Stannis - mother was convinced he was a kinslayer - but he is a thousand times better for the north than Roose Bolton and his bastard. You would be a thousand times better than either of them and - if you can find Maege Mormont - I appointed you my heir. Sansa is the Lannister's key to the North. Bran is missing. Arya and Rickon are dead.

You're the only one of us who's free now.

I know you're worried about the Watch. From what you've said through our letters the situation up there is terrible. But the Watch needs a strong North behind it in its dilapidated state and only you can do this.

Being a lord is hard and being a king is harder. But you have to try Jon. Try and succeed where I failed. Force Stannis to accept the terms of Sansa and Arya (if by any chance she's alive) being returned to you unharmed and to keep his Red Woman away from the godswoods. If you have to, take the Wildling Princess you've mentioned as a wife. Bind our kingdom back together against all our enemies. Both inside and out.

And I will be with you all the way Jon. Any worries you have will be my worries. Any fears or any doubts. But you need to trust me.

I'm sending you something, enclosed in this letter. It...took me a while to make but, it should bring you comfort. Our family, united in needlework even though unimaginable distances separate us now. All of us.

We are Starks Jon, and Starks do their duty. No matter the cost.

Robyn Baratheon

Letter 5 - Jon

Robyn,

The Boltons are dead. Winterfell is ours once more, thanks to your plan. And as I write, Rickon is being fetched from Skagos - of all places Skagos? - where House Manderly had been hiding him.

Yes, Rickon is alive! And apparently completely unharmed! I would call it a miracle if not for everything else that has happened. Apparently a Wildling woman was somehow sheltering him, though I have no idea how that happened.

I've already announced to Stannis that I consider Rickon's claim to come first, even if I have been legitimised. He grumbled, but accepted the issue - though he has informed me that I 'am expected to provide sensible governance to my brother and ensure he remains loyal'. I could hear a silent jab at you through his words Robyn, and it took all my mental strength to not point out how ridiculously long he took to announce his claim on the throne. He only has himself to blame - and maybe the fire witch.

She still keeps sending me those looks and is constantly petitioning to burn down the godswood. Thankfully Stannis isn't that much of an idiot. I do worry that she knows something however, about our communication. Once out of the blue she asked about you: what you were like, what you would have done in certain situations. You should keep an eye of Dragonstone in your world to make sure she doesn't try anything.

But enough about them. Just yesterday we got a raven from the south. Someone calling himself Aegon Targaryen has invaded the Stormlands, laying siege to Storm's End. According to the message he has the word of Jon Connington (the royalist commander from the Battle of the Bells) and the strength of Golden Company behind him. As you probably expect he 'calls on all true and loyal men' to join him. Worryingly, both Stannis and Melisandre think he might actually be the son of Rhaegar; spirited out of the kingdom by a Varys. Obviously no one has pledged allegiance to him here but in the south...the last thing we need here is another claimant, sister.

Robyn, I don't agree with your plans. While I can understand your desire to protect those close to us, what you suggest is far too close to breaking guest right. Combined with the fact that Stannis and Renly haven't done anything in your world - though I do acknowledge the latter's marriage is a threat - it just feels like you're repeating the Lannisters' mistakes sweet sister. Surely there's a better way to go about things, one that doesn't require assassination.

But I will stand behind you if you go down this path. Whatever comes we'll face it together.

Love Jon.

Letter 6 - Robyn 

Jon,

The Queen is dead, finally. I was worried the day might never come but at last it has! And no one suspected me for an instant, your suggestion to frame Targaryen loyalists worked like a charm. And the look on her face when she finally realised what was about to happen...

I wish you could have been there, brother. She thought of herself as this great schemer, with myself just as a naive follower to her plans to assassinate the Baratheon brothers (even though I suggested the methods). But with a single nod from me, that vision crashed down around her eyes. She didn't even have a chance for a last curse before her own hired man had slit her throat in two.

For you see brother, the problem with a sellsword or mercenary is that they can be rehired.

I had to kill the hired mercenary myself, of course but as I had seduced him prior to the murder, there was no difficulty in this. And after his blood had fallen on my dress, all that was left to do was scream - content that the letter I'd forced in his pocket would tell the story I wanted.

My boy husband (for he is so much a boy, not like you Jon) was as you expected, devastated by the loss. I suppose I can not blame him, for loosing your parents and two uncles in the span of two months would upset anyone. Though I confess, part of me delights in the shoe being on the other foot now. Do you not like this Lannister? Does it tear at your soul, as it did mine?

His true father is also distressed by his lover's death, but to his mild credit he has done a decent job of hiding it. I've taken him on as my personal guard now, an amusing change from our relationship in the war in your world. He'll be a loyal dog to me, as the hound is still to Joffrey. For after all, the Kingsguard obey the king and the king obeys his queen. Even more so now that his child grows within my womb.

I will have Stark children, brother. Not Lannister or Baratheon or anything else. I hope they look you or me, instead of having blond hair and green eyes. They'll be more our children than his.

According to father, Sandor has finally arrived back at Winterfell where Rodrick, Luwin and mother will attempt to kick the prat into shape. I confess, I'm not sure they will succeed. They'll probably have to stand watch in the bedchamber if my suspicions about his 'fantasies' are accurate. If they are, well - maybe Arry or a second son of mine will have to take Winterfell.

That is of course assuming that Joffrey survives long enough to get another child off me. Don't panic brother, I'd be discreet of course and wait until I have a surviving child. But the death of a boy king would spur the hatred of the Great Houses and that might be necessary if the Targaryens do invade. I've tried to head an invasion off by sending assassins after Daenerys and the boy Aegon, regardless of whether or not he is a trueborn dragon. Varys too has been executed, as punishment for 'treason and assisting in the death of the monarch.' But all is together now and with Margaery Tyrell's child confirmed as heir to Storm's End and Tommen as heir to Casterly Rock, the realm will be secure whatever happens. From an invasion from the east, or one from the north.

I told you I was good, Jon.

Queen Robyn Baratheon

----------------

The End

Timeline of Events

• Red Wedding as Canon.
• Letter 1: Robyn has just arrived in King's Landing.
• Tourney of the Hand.
• Letter 2: Jon's reply to letter 1.
• Letter 3: Week before Robyn's marriage.
• Robyn marries Joffrey.
• Stannis arrives at the Wall, defeats Mance Ryder.
• Letter 4: Days after Mance Ryder's Defeat.
• Jon accepts Stannis's offer.
• Robyn is pregnant and begins to worm her way into Cersei's confidences.
• Winterfell is captured by Jon and Stannis, Bolton's driven extinct.
• Letter 5: Day after Battle of Winterfell.
• Alt-Stannis, Alt-Renly and Alt-Robert assassinated.
• Alt-Cersei assassinated, with Targaryen loyalists framed.
• Letter 6: Week after Alt-Cersei's death.

Chapter Text

House Hagrid of Storm's End

"Well aren't you a sweet beastie?" said the giant man, strolling across the plain towards Aegon and Balerion. The Targaryen frowned. Sweet? How was a massive dragon sweet? He could eat even this...giant...hairball in one gulp!

...and was that a mouse peaking out of a side of his tunic?

"King Rubeus" Aegon announced, glaring down at him with all the dignity he could muster. "Surrender your crown and swear fealty. Or else you and your house...will..." He blinked. "...what are you doing?"

"Ah'm just introducing myself to this lovable creature" said Hagrid, who had somehow snuck under Aegon's radar to further approach Balerion. He was now stroking the dragon and...was that purring he could hear? Dragons could purr? "What's his name?"

"Balerion...wait, no-Let go of my dragon!" Aegon shrieked, "Dracarys!" Balerion did nothing, one of his back legs starting to pound up and down in time with his purrs. His tail had even started to wag and his tongue was hanging out of the side of his mouth. "Dracarys! Dracarys! Dracarys... just please stop licking the man and kill him!"

"There's no need to be like tha" said Hagrid, "Balerion here only wants attention. You are feeding him correctly aren't you?" Aegon blinked.

"...he gets a cow every day-" Hagrid cut in.

"Oh, that's ridiculous! That's just cruel to the poor beastie." He reached up and pulled Aegon off the dragon, setting him down on the ground with a pat to the head. The King was too shocked to react. His army had ran away in the meantime. "You've got ta vary their diet you see, otherwise they'll get irritable and cramped. And give him some whisky on alternating days to help with the growing pains. Trust me, it worked with Norberta."

Though he was afraid too, Aegon mumbled "Norberta?"

"My Dragon" Hagrid boomed, "Here, ah'll call her over." He whistled and sure enough, a large green dragon flew over to sit behind the giant. Balerion immediately stood to attention, though it wasn't with eyes of challenge that he was looking at Norbert...

"Ah look, they're making friends!" Hagrid exclaimed in delight.

House Weasley of the Burrow (It's a Wolverine! Not a Weasel!)

After the...incident at Storm's End, Aegon had been forced to give up on unifying Westeros. After all, when the opposing faction could essentially 'Nope' any action of the dragons by turning up to the field, conquest was a risky prospect. But Aegon was still determined to carve out a kingdom for himself, even if he would have to time it to when Balerion and Norberta were having a spat because the former hadn't washed himself/etc.

So he had turned his eyes to the Riverlands, to a region recorded as being easily conquerable. Whether Northmen, Ironborn, Westermen, Valemen, Reachmen or Stormlanders - all had invaded the kingdom at one point and so Aegon hoped to add the Targaryens to that list.

If he had been more sensible, he would have noticed that none of the successful conquests had happened in the last 700 years...

"Huh" said the girl, "You're shorter than I expected." Aegon blinked. Where a moment ago there had been nothing, now a lanky freckled face was peering up at him. He noticed one hand of hers was on his dragon...oh gods-

"You're not related to the Hagrids are you?" was the first thing out of his mouth. He was quite disturbed to realise his voice had cracked. The girl winkled her nose.

"Probably, there's been a lot of inbreeding" she snarked, "Anyway, come on. Mom thought you were never going to make it." She started tugging Balerion and Aegon along.

"Mom?" he croaked. The girl sighed.

"Lady Molly Weasley" she said slowly, as if speaking to a child - "I'm her eldest daughter, Ronnie - well technically Veronica, but if you call me that I will take an axe to your testicles." She said all that very fast.

Aegon was too confused to say anything, even as Ronnie continued to lead Balerion home. The only response the world gained from him was a squeak when Balerion tried to roll over.

"Cmon, we need to hurry or she'll send a messenger to howl at us!"

The Burrow (the actual castle's called Riverrun Ronnie informed him) was the strangest 'castle' Aegon had ever seen. Granted he hadn't seen many castles, only a few Stormlander keeps and Storm's End - which he would not think about in case Balerion heard - but if he had, he was still sure that the Burrow would have been the weirdest. It looked like it had been designed by a madman, with a dozen different architectural styles piled precariously on top of each other. Here and there, Aegon could spot wooden struts and support beams and he wondered "How has this place not collapsed yet?"

Ronnie shrugged. "Ask Dad" she said, "If anyone knows he does. Or the twins. Or Bill, he always seems to know everything." Before they could get any further, a large lump of ginger fur sprang out from behind a bush and launched itself into Ronnie's arms. "Gah! Down Crookshanks!"

Aegon screamed as Balerion instinctively sat on his flanks, since naturally he was sent sliding off the back and into the dirt. For a long moment he lay there, dazed and gibbering until finally a strong arm reached down and gently pulled him to his feet. A large matronly woman stood before him, brushing down the 'conquerer's' face with a cloth.

"What are you doing lying down there in the dirt?" she said, wiping Aegon's nose clean - "You'll get your fancy tunic dirty and then what will your poor servants do? Come inside, you must be starving." She grabbed Aegon by the arm and started to pull him along. "Come along Ronnie, you too."

"But I want to watch the dragon-"

"You can look at the Dragon later" the matron cut in, "But at the moment your food is getting cold." The girl huffed, but followed her mother - and the shell shocked Targaryen - inside.

Meanwhile Balerion and Crookshanks continued their staring contest. Neither one of them dared to blink.-

It wasn't until he was in the midst of eating that Aegon started to work his way out of his daze. He had somehow ended up sitting around a table with the entire Weasley family: Lord Arthur, his heir Bill, his other sons Charlie, Percy and two twins, Ronnie and another girl called Ginny. The room was far smaller than any other feasting hall he had been in, though oddly vertical. And slanted to the left.

"So why have you come to visit us, Lord Aegon?" asked Arthur, his plate shoved partway to the side so that he could ponder over a strange nicknack.

"I...I...uh, was planning to conquer your lands" said Aegon despairingly, "But that can't happen because you too are immune to dragons!" He shook his head. "Now I understand why my ancestors never invaded Westeros." Arthur smiled.

"Oh, chin up" he said "There are plenty of good places for you to conquer. Let's see, hmm..." The youngest girl piped up.

"You could conquer the North! They're not immune to dragons!"

The eldest son shook his head. "But the Potters have impossible to find bases, Ginny. You could fly over them half a dozen times and not see anything. Maybe the Reach?"

Lady Molly spoke up - "The Longbottoms have all those plant monsters Bill. It wouldn't be safe for our friend here to visit. Hmm...the Vale could be-"

"We don't speak about the Vale Molly" her husband said, "The Lovegoods are not to be troubled. We all know what happened to the Lestranges when they tried."

Aegon slammed his head down on the table. "Is there no one I can conquer? No one? Anywhere?" He felt the urge to burst out crying.

"I have an answer" said Percy, "You should invade Dorne, your Grace. They have no defences able to resist Dragons and due to the temperature the kingdom is perfect for breeding dragons."

"An excellent idea Percy" said Arthur, "I've heard the weather is always nice in Dorne." Aegon stood up.

"Then it is settled!" he announced, "I, shall invade and conquer Dorne!" And then he marched outside to his destiny, laughing gaily.

...only to run back in screaming as a horde of baby dragons flew after him.

House Lovegood of the Rook

Petyr Baelish glared as he was brought before the throne of the Queen all men called 'The Mad Woman of the Mountain'. His hands and feet had already been bound but he kept his back straight, unwilling to show fear in front of even this figure. High, tinkling laughter echoed down from the raven-shaped throne and the blonde haired woman who sat upon it.

"So..." said her soft, amused voice; "You believed you could hide your...activities from me did you my Lord?" Petyr growled. It had been going so well, his power in Gulltown had been growing by the day until that accursed mole creature had appeared in his shop. "Crumple-Horned Snorlack."

Baelish blinked.

"The 'mole creature'" the woman said, "They're called Crumple-Horned Snorlacks. It's an easy mistake to make." She giggled again.

"Kill me and be done with it woman!" shouted Baelish, "You have me on my knees, what more do you want?"

The woman smiled. "Well for one I would like to rediscover how to talk to Nargles - my ancestor Queen Luna was able to do that. I'd like for Aegon Targaryen VI to start returning my ravens - living in Dorne is no excuse for rudeness. Hmm, oh I'd like to discover how to make Ice Cream..."

Baelish looked around in confusion, noticing that his two guards were wearing pink earmuffs all of a sudden. He then spotted the black haired man tied up and gagged in the corner. The man raised green eyes at him.

"Albus, stop ogling my prisoner" the woman said with a frown, "You're only allowed to stare at me that way." She pouted. Baelish imagined that he heard the boy utter a long suffering sigh. The woman suddenly clapped her hands one again. "That's it! I also want to find out where Queen Daenerys hid her fake dingaling (see here)! Albus needs to be taught a lesson after all."

Baelish definitely did not imagine that second sigh.

"What about me?" he asked.

The Queen looked revolted. "Eww, gross" she said, "Who'd want to sleep with you? An immature woman constantly overshadowed by her siblings and forced to marry an old man because she managed to get herself pregnant?"

"---"

"I didn't think so!" she exclaimed, "Guards, throw him into the pit!" Her constant smile had turned faintly sadistic.

"The Pit!" Petyr screamed. He had heard tale of the place where the Lovegoods chucked their enemies, a dark impossibly deep hole with no light or escape. "Don't throw me in there! Noooooooo!"

The guards threw him in there in a second. It took three more for the Quintapeds to get him.

Gringotts of Casterly Rock

"So..." drawled the Goblin, "What is it that you wish of us, Prince...Rhaegar wasn't it?" The Targaryen and his party shivered at the smirk sent their way, the banker's fangs glistening under his fat lips. Truly he had never been faced by a more stressful situation, not even when one of House Longbottom's plant monsters (officially referred to as a Mandrake/Venomous Tentacula/Triffid Hybrid) had smashed through the Red Mountains and turned Arthur Dayne into its lunch. These were the eyes of someone who had seen his enemy, identified his abilities - and immediately moved on, unconcerned by his meagre show of strength.

Still, he straightened up. He was a dragon, a heir of Old Valyria! He would not be intimidated by a...by a...munchkin! "I have come to order the production of a dozen of your finest blades" he commanded in his best 'I am very important' voice. "They are required for the second coming of the Long Night, for the defence of the realms of men!" The Goblin raised an eyebrow. "...and Goblins" Rhaegar stuttered.

"A dozen Goblin-forged swords" sneered the banker, "I assume, Prince Rhaegar that you know of our...customs regarding the construction of Goblin-made artifacts?" Rhaegar blinked, then looked to his companions for help. Variously they shrugged, shook their heads or fell to the floor begging Rhaegar's forgiveness in Jon Connington's case.

"You guys are useless!" Rhaegar said, triggering a round of blubbering from Jon. "Ahem, no my good man-"

"I'm a woman."

"...apologies, I'm afraid...no I have no idea about your customs" Rhaegar sighed. The prophecy hadn't mentioned anything about this! Clearly the ancient scribes had left out bits, lousy slaves!

"I could explain I suppose..." the Goblin drawled, extending a hand. Rhaegar stared at it. Then stared some more. And then some more. Until finally his squire Aegon Yronwood got fed up and handed over a golden galleon. "Excellent" the Goblin sneered, "So glad we could do service. Now in answer to your question, the rites of my people dictate that it is the maker who owns the weapon, not the buyer. So while you would be able to wield any of these swords, I'm afraid that you would be unable to give them to anyone else."

"But that's preposterous!" Rhaegar shouted, "Surely you can make an exception considering my - I mean, our great need?" He put on his best pleading expression, the one his mummykins could never say no to.

The Goblin pouted, mock sadly. "I'm afraid not, my prince" he replied, "It would set a bad precedent - the interests and services of this bank would be most troubled. The market value of Goblin Metal could drop significantly."

"But the Ice!Dementors will wipe us all out!" Rhaegar shouted, "Westeros isn't defended for them at all - even with the Hippogriff Cavalry and the Stormland Dragons and the Plant Monsters and the Fidelius Enchantment and the Crumple-Horned Snorlacks and the Weasleys attempting to outbreed everyone else on their own!" He then gasped because that was a long and awkward sentence.

"Gringotts will survive" replied the Banker, "Even the combined might of the noble houses of Westeros couldn't breach these walls and since then we've made House Malfoy into little more than puppets. My race does not fear winter, indeed many of my kind embraces the chill and the challenges it brings. Your kind may differ but still..."

"Enough of this!" shouted Jon Connington, still curled around Rhaegar's legs. He leaped to his feet, nearly fell over and pointed his sword in the Goblin's face. "Hand over the blades or face cold-akk!" A crossbow bolt fired from one of the banker's guards answered his question.

The banker frowned. "How...uncivilised" he drawled, "I think it might be best if you leave quickly. My brethren do not appreciate...distractions from our peace and quiet." Rhaegar considered saying something in reply, but the two spears pointed at his back made him reconsider. "Give the bank's regards to your father, my prince. Escort them out gentlemen." The four Goblin spearmen quickly did as asked, only barely restraining themselves from impaling Rhaegar and his companions in the back.

Just before finally exiting, Rhaegar looked back. The Goblin had already moved onto another document, a amused smile adorning his sharp and wrinkled features.

Chapter Text

"Well this is boring" muttered Mew, as he flew unseen over the battle happening below. Wolves and Hyenas tore each other apart, as man and horse did the same to each other.

"How so?" pondered Arceus, "There's enough blood and gore here to make another Lavender Town. Maybe even a Termina."

"True" muttered the Floating Cat Fetus, "But the actual fighting sucks! I mean, these...dogs are only using Bite and Scratch. Who uses just those two? Why would anyone-"

"What do you want them to do, throw fireballs at each other?" the Horse/Ship's Wheel Mutant replied, "They aren't Pokemon." Mew glared.

"I know they aren't Pokemon you cosmic turd, but-" His face lit up with a psychotic grin. "There's an idea. JIRACHI!"

"What are you-" Arceus tried to say, but was interrupted by the arrival of the Wish Fairy.

"What is it now Mew" he replied, "I was busy turning someone into a human bowling ball." Mew's grin could have curdled Muk.

"I wish that-"

"I can't grant wishes more than once every thousand-" Arceus and Mew snorted.

"Please" said Arceus, "We both know that's only something you said so no one would bother you."

"...Dickheads" muttered Jirachi.

"That's the spirit!" said Mew, "Anyway Jirachi, I need you to turn all of these beasts into Pokemon." The fairy blinked.

"Couldn't you have done that yourself?" he asked.

"Probably" Mew replied, "But I'm too lazy."

"Arceus?"

"..."

"ARCEUS!"

"What?" muttered the God, "I was reading the Beano, have I missed anything?" Jirachi sighed, rubbed his forehead and turned to the battle.

"Abracadabra" he deadpanned, before waving his arms.

On the battlefield below, where once there had been Wolves and Hyenas now stood row upon row of pink goo creatures; all staring out with vacant expressions.

"Well that can't be good" muttered Mew.

And that was how Ditto conquered Westeros!

There were no Survivors.

Chapter Text

There must always be a King of the Dead, always...

When the stone wall loomed out of the mist it took all of Mya's instincts, borne from years of mountain climbing to prevent walking into it head first. The others of her party were not so lucky. Myrcella and Gilly both yelped as they stumbled into the cold stone, though Sansa stayed quiet as she always did nowadays. Mya could hardly remember the young girl's voice now, only the blank stares the Stark gave when confronted by another member of their group. After several months of it, the other females had finally begun to find it wearing. They'd all suffered loss, at least Sansa still had her beauty and not a scarred mess for a face.

But there was no time to be irritated in this era of the world. As quickly as she could, Mya gestured the other three over to her - scanning around for wanderers or lurkers as she did so. With the sign language and signals they themselves had created to prevent anyone - wight or human - from overhearing, she gestured for Gilly to bring out the grappling hook they had stolen from Asha Greyjoy's corpse. The Wildling withdrew the rope and hook from a pack strapped within easy reach; a swaddle of cloth that might once have contained a child. With sharp, precise movements, Mya swung the hook in an arc before flinging it towards the unseen battlements of the castle wall. Hopefully the castle wouldn't be too tall or too well designed for the hook to catch hold of something; else the party would risk having to search for a ground entrance.

The prospect of sleeping outside was never considered. It wasn't an option in these days after the Wall fell.

With a large amount of effort the girls were able to climb the rope left behind by the hook, their hands rubbing raw on the course material. For Sansa and Myrcella it was worse due to their sheltered life before the onslaught of winter, especially for the latter due to only having one arm remaining. Gilly too had difficulty, though that was probably the after effects of the incident during the fall of the Bloody Gate. Only Mya - as usual - managed to climb in a reasonable time, though she realised with dread that even she had slowed down somewhat from constant stress and lack of food.

Thankfully the summit of their climb was in one piece, unlike the previous castle whose owners had apparently preferred to burn it to the ground rather than become the undead. Sansa couldn't blame them, as sometimes she fantasised about ending it all and rejoining her family in the Beyond: Father and Arya cut down in King's Landing, Jon buried in the collapse of the Wall, Bran and Rickon slaughtered in Winterfell, Robb murdered alongside the Kingslayer to buy time for a retreat from the Trident - Mother dying of grief not long after. Surely whatever awaited them couldn't be worse than the world they lived in now, where the mists never rose and figures in the distance were never friendly. Anything they wore or ate now would already have been ruined, whether by time or battle. Her leather jerkin - scavenged from a dead soldier at the Bloody Gate - poorly fit her and was a world away from the gentle and soft fabrics the seamstresses of Winterfell had once made for her. She knew Myrcella felt the same, after all she was highborn as well.

But this had not brought them closer, no, never. That would require talking and Sansa didn't dare open her mouth after all she had seen. Sometimes the other girls called her dumb or wondered if she had become a simpleton like poor Hodor; but they did not understand - they could never comprehend the depth of her loss and grief. Winter had fallen and the Starks were not prepared for it. No one was prepared for this.

Thankfully the castle was silent as the four of them headed inside, clutching at various weapons they had taken possession of on their long journey. They were mostly knives and daggers, though Gilly clutched at a spear picked up from some old Wildling Princess. Sansa doubted that there was much point to keeping them out, for they all knew that only fire could truly kill a servant of the Frozen Lords. They only had a few torches on them now, after being ambushed in the ruined mill they had stayed in two nights ago. She hoped this castle would prove safe for at least one day, though all of them agreed that they could not stay here forever - both because of the dead and because any chance of escaping the Vale by boat would be more difficult the longer they spent. Gulltown would have already fallen, but perhaps a small fishing village still remained untouched?

Gilly hoped that whatever bandits had raided this fort hadn't managed to steal all the food before leaving. Since...since the Bloody Gate she had never had a full stomach and even before that the Free Folk had gone hungry more often than not. In her case it was doubly so, considering her father's...habits. People had lived here, in this castle and they would have had to eaten something - even if they hadn't bothered to hunt it down themselves. Even a small loaf of bread would be a godsend, anything more than that a literal boon.

Despite the company of the other girls, who Gilly considered sisters after all they had done together she couldn't help but miss Sam and the short days of peace that accompanied his time with her before his friend had slain the frozen king. Before the Wall had collapsed and the giants risen. Before the southerners had fallen like pebbles washed away by a tide; some fighting, some running - all dying. They'd all lost people - the other girls - but no one like Sam, or like her child - her son Sam. Not even taken by the dead, just by the winter that never ended and the cold that never ceased to chafe at their bones. Her son Sam...so young and too innocent for a world like this. Distantly Gilly remembered another child, the spawn of a great king who that accused priestess had insisted on burning to no avail.

She could still see the babe in her mind's eye, his blue eyes bawling as the Storm King looked on impassive. She hadn't told Sansa of her nephew's fate, not even now when the possibility that she might never have a chance crept ever closer. They were sisters now, after all and sisters did not cause each other pain. Telling her now would only break her further truthfully.

The wine and meat they found was well appreciated and of high standard enough to remind Myrcella of the unending feasts of her youth; of her father, mother and uncles - of Tommen and even of Joffrey. She wouldn't recount their fates in her mind again, for the Queen she technically was would never have dwelled on such misfortune. Her brothers had done their duty in the end, Joffrey and Tommen fighting side by side as King's Landing burnt to the rock. Even the Iron Throne would have seemed almost kind to her in the current days, with the swords as blunt as butter and the seat as soft as cushions. Still she had dreams to live in, dreams where she wasn't dressed in rags or always hungry - dreams where she wasn't a scarred mess and still had both arms.

Sleeping was always difficult for her nowadays as her missing arm always tempting her to lie on her side where the rough floor could press up against the livid wound. The marks of pox and rash still marked her skin near the scar, the infections left in the wake of the Dragon Queen's madness. Myrcella knew she had been lucky - lucky that the Queen considered her so little a threat that she needn't die immediately upon them locking gazes. Beating her and mutilating her was enough to make sure that no one would follow a ruined princess. Idly she suspected that only Ser Barristan's testimony had saved her from instant death by dragonfire, though what came next was hardly better. The endless flight, the eternal despair. They were all ruined now, the four girls: Myrcella with one arm, Sansa with no voice, Gilly with a broken womb and Mya with a a mess of scars across her face.

She turned over in her sleep and winced as her wound rubbed painfully against the uneven stone. Dreams of lions and stags running in a eternal forest resided in her head, where there was no winter or death and only peace.

She didn't make a sound when the wight stabbed her through the neck.

Gilly didn't make a noise when another crushed her head with a rock.

Mya didn't make a noise when another buried an axe in her stomach.

And Sansa only cried as the wights impaled her with their weapons.

Chapter Text

Kneeling on his wrecked ship with dead and wounded crewmen lying all around, Balon cursed the Gods - Drowned, Old and Seven alike. Most of all he cursed the Storm God for the ruin he had brought upon the heralds of his rival, even if the summoned storm had long abated.

By some dark miracle his ship was still afloat, even now when it lay in two pieces torn apart by that damned kraken (the irony was not appreciated). When it had first struck, Balon thought they had somehow hit a sandbar - which was impossible, he knew these seas like the back of his hand: There was no land this far out from the mainland! But then the tentacles had begun scaling the sides of his ship, tearing apart masts and men alike; crushing the ship in half with no care about his men's pitiful efforts. And even that had not been the end of it, for then the sea had thrown up an army of foul half-breeds; wretched abominations of man and fish and barnacle and rot.

It was a group of those demons who now stood over him, cackling and cheering at their easy victory. The sight of them was sickening - were these the Deep Ones his mad brother had spoken about? Or the Merlings Aeron had mentioned?...no. These men had once been human, that was clear despite their twisted forms. Despite their melted features and broken shapes, despite the swords fused with flesh and the barnacles that had grown inside their throats. Then perhaps - the thought was terrifying - perhaps these were servants of the Drowned God? Sailors from his sunken halls who had returned to the world of the living? Was this was awaited him and his men, was this the exalted life that the Drowned Priests had foretold?

The clunk of a peg-leg and the quiet murmur of "Captain" alerted him to a new arrival of the remains of his ship. Balon attempted to straighten up, to cast his eyes upon the source of his doom - only for one of the mutated crewmen to slam it's weapon into the nape of his neck, sending him back onto the shattered planks beneath him. One of the crewmen, some sort of shark hybrid spoke up - "Seven men still alive, the rest have moved on." He was answered by silence, before the captain moved again; accompanied by the single slam of a boot and the clunk of his lost leg. Balon's neck stung, a new wound bleeding guiltily down his back. All he could see of the captain was a rotten boot and the remnants of a leg mutilated by the sea like the rest of his crew. A harsh smell filled his throat and from above there was the brief light of a flame.

When the captain spoke, it was with a voice came from everywhere; timeless, twisted and with the harshness of death and everlasting regret. "Do you fear death? Do you fear that dark abyss? All your deeds laid bare. All your sins punished. I can offer you...an escape." In some way the words he was saying might have been friendly, kind even. But Balon recognised the tone behind them, that of a cold and dark intelligence with no regard for the short lives of man. He continued, "I offer you a choice. Join my crew...and postpone the judgment. One hundred years before the mast. Will ye serve?"

To Balon's surprise, the sailor who commanded the captain's attention spat in his face. For a moment afterwards the world was silent, as even the wind and the waves waited to see how the demon would respond. He laughed and with a single gesture ordered his men to throw the man overboard. A resounding crunch echoed up from the deep, presumably from the kraken still holding up Balon's ruined ship. Not that Balon cared, all he could focus on was the sound of the captain moving once again and the sharp pain as a massive crab claw grasped him around the neck and pulled him upwards.

"Are you the captain of this...vessel?" asked the demon. Balon didn't answer, he was too busy gibbering with terror inflicted by the sight of the man's head.

Because It wasn't a man.

It was the face of a kraken - unadorned, unchanged, unbroken - tentacles writhing in madness and fury. There were no points of reference for him to understand, no human features for him to emphasise with. Just the darkness of his House's sigil and the dark eyes of a demon. In some ways the being resembled an ancient sailor with a beard, in others he reminded Balon of those ancient carvings on the Seastone Chair; designs that even he had found terrifying as a boy, put aside as a man and now was sent back to as he stared into the face of the Devil of the Seas.

"Answer the captain!" barked the Shark-man.

"Patience, Maccus" ordered the captain, "I think the man is just a wee bit scared. As well he might." His crew laughed and the demon smirked. "Do you know who I am, boy?"

"The Drowned God?" Balon whispered. He felt the wet patch between his legs growing with every moment he stared at the man-kraken. The demon smiled.

"A god?" the demon spat, "No! There are no Gods in the world nowadays. Only men, monsters and the promise of a harsh judgement when you finally die." His smile turned rictus. "But I can offer you...freedom."

Omake: The Greenlander's Revenge

Catelyn: They sacked the Riverlands. Kill them all.

Eddard: Anything to please you my love.

Later:

Balon: Curse you Greenlander scum!

Eddard: Don't worry Balon old chap, we're not going to murder all your family. Yes, to ensure that the Harlaws behave as the new Lord Paramounts we're going to foster your daughter in Winterfell.

Balon: No!

Eddard: Raised as a proper Greenlander lady!

Balon: NO!

Eddard: And she'll be married to my son!

Balon: NOOOOOoooooo...

Chapter Text

Even after the rest of his Lords had deserted the planning table for their own beds, Robb still sat and plotted. Freshly calloused fingers moved pieces around on the map; Direwolves, Fish, Flayed Men, Giants - occasionally he would spot a pattern and move the figures into set positions, only to sigh and scrap the half-formed idea.

Despite appearances, he was far from alone.

"Crossing a river is a fool's errand, boy" barked Theon 'the Hungry' in his mind, "Best to make your enemies do it instead."

"I know that" Robb muttered, "But so does Tywin Lannister. He won't fall for an obvious trap."

"Then we burn him!" laughed Lyanna 'the slightly crazed', "Burn him like Robert did to that son-of-a-bitch Rhaegar!"

"Lyanna, language" stated Rickard 'the Plotter', "We must not lower ourselves to their level."

"Besides which" Robb said, "King Robert didn't burn Rhaegar, he turned him into a fine red mist via warhammer."

"He should have tied him to a tree and had his way with him!" laughed Theon, "That's what I did with the High Septon of Andalos!"

"And what I did with the natives of Farthos!" cut in Brandon 'the Shipwright'.

"And what I did with the Night's Queen!" said Brandon 'the Builder'.

Everyone was silent.

"You...fucked the Queen of the Others..." Robb questioned, "On a tree?"

"She had massive tities, I couldn't help myself!" replied Brandon, "And besides which - she didn't mind."

"She did mind when you failed to pay Child Support, grandad" spat the Night's King, "Believe me, she wouldn't stop bitching about it!"

"Pffph! She was just overreacting!"

"Are you saying-"

"-Personally I think-"

"BURN THEM ALL!"

"-the ships were stupid anyway-"

"Lyanna please..."

"I need a drink."

"What are you saying about my fleet!"

"-a Targaryen bride would have been a great idea-"

"Have some of mine."

"FUCKING ANDALS!"

"-are we sure Baelor was a dude-"

"FUCKING IRON-"

"ENOUGH!" Robb shouted, finally being overwhelmed by the annoyance of having a thousand voices in his head. "Does anyone have any ideas about how I can win this war or should I just go to bed? And say it ONE AT A TIME!"

"Keep Theon with you at all times" said Cregan 'the Old', "He might not betray you but his father was a jackass."

"Good idea" Robb said, "Next!"

"Find yourself a whore" replied Brandon 'the Strangled', "It will keep all the stupid urges down for when you need your brain. That's what screwed me over."

"Fair enough."

"Build a Wall and make the Lannisters pay for it!" said Brandon 'the Builder', "Trust me it always works!"

Once again there was silence.

The ritual had failed. Jon Snow lay as dead as he had been before the actions of the Fire Witch; no change in his face, no breath in his lungs, no soul in his heart. One by one his companions left the room they had concealed him in, Tormund banging his head on the low doorway as he did so. The Red Witch also left, wondering about whether or not converting to the Black Goat would have had a better response. She looked back once before she took her leave, taking heart in the fact that at least she could sell his leftover hair on the black market. She sighed, already imagining the countless candles she would buy...

Only to faint when Jon Snow sat up and started screaming about being bald. "Nooooooooo..." screamed the Bastard of Winterfell, "Nooo! Why Old Gods, why? What have I done to deserve this?!" In all fairness, he wasn't entirely bald. Melisandre had left a tiny amount in the style Stannis had often preferred, carefully applying magic to ensure the hairstyle was permanent.

"Jon!" screamed Tormund in delight as he raced into the room, before jumping on the bed and glomping him. Apparently the noise had been heard outside as Davos, Eddison and the other one were quick to follow. Ghost also followed them, having escaped confinement by eating HBO's executives alive. None of them made any effort to avoid stepping on the unconscious Fire Witch.

"My hair!" Jon screamed, apparently still not over the shock of having had a haircut while...uh, dead.

"It's good to see you lad!" Davos said, "I thought for sure that the White Walkers would overwhelm us without your help - despite all evidence to the contrary." He sounded far too cheerful considering how awful some of the recent storylines had been.

"My hair! NOOOOoooo..."

"We've been in a bit of pickle without you Jon" Edd said, for some reason now having a scottish accent; "The plot's going nowhere, the White Walkers-"

"I thought they were called Others?" said the other one, whose name the writer couldn't be bothered to remember. Assume his storyline was shoved into someone else's...maybe Greatjon's?

"No, they're called White Walkers in the show universe because HBO thinks viewers are idiots" Davos confirmed.

"-anyway, the 'White Walkers' aren't anywhere near the Wall and it's been five seasons!" Edd exclaimed, "We only have three left!"

"But my hair!" Jon cried.

"No one cares about your blasted hair boy!" boomed a voice. Everyone else fell silent, though Jon continued to snivel.

"...who was that?" asked Tormund.

"It is I, Theon Stark" boomed the voice, "As you are now apparently the heir to Winterfell-"

"He really shouldn't be, I made those vows to stop this sort of situation!" cried Brandon 'the Builder'.

"Then why didn't you stick in a clause about coming back from the dead!" snapped the Night's King.

"I didn't expect anyone to actually do it-"

"What about Wights, you idiot?!"

"AS I WAS SAYING!" boomed Theon, "As you are now the heir to Winterfell for some reason, you will be forced to put up with your ancestors sharing your head for all eternity! Mwahahahahaha!"

"It's not as bad as it seems Jon" said Robb, "Father managed to put up with it, as did I" He paused. "Well...before I lost it and slept with most of the Westerlands that is." At this point the alive characters, minus the still sobbing Jon and the unconscious Melisandre started backing out of the room.

"I still don't know why you did that" said Brandon 'the Burnt', "No one suggested it; in fact several of us pointed out it was a terrible idea!"

"I don't know!" Robb cried, "I was trying to do what the Builder suggested and make a Wall out of babies!" Silence fell...again.

"...I deny saying this" said 'the Builder'.

"He totally said it!" laughed Lyanna, "As did I! Make a Wall out of blood! Turn your enemies into paste! EVERYTHING MUST DIE!!!"

"Lyanna" said Rickard, "Please try and use your indoor voice, we all share this head."

"NO! I'm tired of you telling me what to do old man, I am a grown woman-"

"And I thought I was mad" muttered Marlon 'the aptly named'.

"Shut up!" Lyanna screeched, "You aren't even canon!"

"That doesn't make his point worthless" muttered Robyn 'totally not the next Night's Queen'.

"You shut up as well, you whore bitch!"

"Who are you calling a whore, you cunt-faced jackass!"

"Lyanna please..."

"MY HAIR!"

"Why are all my relatives insane?"

"Fuck you Aegon!"

"I can't believe my Wall failed! It was gonna be huuuge!"

"Fuck you Roose!"

"Your Wall sucked anyway!"

"Fuck you Ironborn!"

"It's a small world after all-"

"FUCK YOU ANDALOS!!!"

"SEVEN BLESS AMERICOS!!!"

This continued for some time.

By the time they reached the frozen lake, three of Jon's party had already died due to not packing thermal underwear. But the Bastard King of Winter was not disheartened; he was Aegon Aemon Jon Targaryen and Westeros would be his, no matter what strange plot twists the writers had to introduce! Now if only they could find some way to bring his hair back...

Somewhere in Pyromaniac heaven, Melisandre laughed.

"This is the place isn't it?" he asked, seemingly to thin air. His companions, aside from Gendry-seriously why was Gendry brought along? Not only do none of them know him, he doesn't even have any experience with- ahem.

Sorry, went on a tangent again.

His companions, aside from Gendry who had only been a companion for FIVE MINUTES ignored him as he'd been doing this since he was resurrected. The Rhillorists believed he was talking to their god, Tormund thought he was high and the rest had just decided he was insane. So long as he didn't try to burn anyone alive, that was reasonable behaviour for a Targaryen.

Inside Jon's head, a deep and spooky voice replied "Yes, my descendant. Stay here now...preferably unarmed and my successor as Night's King will meet you to parley. Remember! Even if his wight army charges towards you with swords outstretched...they're just testing your devotion to this cause. Are you devoted?"

"I am, I am!" Jon replied. Blimey, he'd never even imagined that the Others were simply looking for new fishing grounds!

"...I'm still having trouble believing you fell for this."

Meanwhile a cacophony of other voices demanded to be heard.

"Jon, turn around now!" shouted Robb 'the Wolfhead'.

"You're being deceived boy!" screeched Cregan 'the Ancient'.

"You're an idiot!" yelped Rickon.

"How the fuck did you fall for-"

"-demand a better host-"

"BURN THEM ALL!"

"-are all my relatives idiots?"

"Lyanna, please..."

"Well, this one is technically a Targaryen-"

"Look at the Fireworks!"

"WHAT'S A FIREWORK?!"

Brandon the Builder said nothing, having been knocked unconscious after a two hour sermon on the merits of canal building. Rodrick and Brandon 'the Shipwright' cried in a corner. Harren Hoare had briefly appeared and then just as quickly left.

When the army of the dead finally arrived three hours later, Jon was standing in the same place quietly humming 'The Rains of Castamere' despite Robb's virulent objections. He continued humming as his companions dived into battle, waving to Jorah as said Mormont had his intestines turned into out-testines (repeatedly, because fuck Jorah). He continued humming as Sandor rose from the dead and tore Gendry apart. He continued humming as Tormund was turned into a fine red mist by a undead giant.

He continued humming, until the new Night's King strolled up and punched his head in.

"Idiot" laughed the old Night's King.

"I blame Aunt Lyanna" muttered Robb 'the Less Stupid'.

"Damn you Rhaegar!" sobbed Eddard from the corner with Rodrick and Brandon.

Chapter Text

When the book fell out of the sky to smack her on the head, Arya might possibly have allowed herself a swear.

Once she had read what the Death Note did, she let out another - only out of sadistic joy rather than any annoyance.

She also offered a prayer of thanks to the Old Gods, then wondered what they had to do with strange murder-books that fell on people's heads.

"It's probably just a phrase."

Happy with that explanation, she set to work. First the obvious names: Weese, Lorch, Joffrey, the bitch, the mute, the hound, the mountain, the bald lion, that stupid kingsguard who killed Syrio...she raked her brain for more subjects.

"There was the tickler...." She wrote him down, though as she couldn't remember his name she was forced to use his nickname. "...Ralf, Dusen, Polliver, Chis...well? Wheel? Wall?...I'll put down them all just in case."

It still wasn't enough however, even with baldy dead the war would still be difficult to win for her brother Robb. So she continued: "The Kingslayer, the Imp - who were the other kings?" She mused for a second and then wrote down "Stannis, Renly...probably Tommen as well if the Lannisters need a new king."

But there were still more people to punish! "...ooo, I know! Littlefinger, the Eunuch, that creepy old Maester, Septa Mordane, House Lefford, House Brax, House Frey..." She paused for a moment, before hesitantly writing 'Sansa' who she had seen still with Joffrey on that awful day. Not a happy memory.

But there were still even more people to slaughter! "The Targaryens..." she muttered, "Better put them down twice just in case. Um, dammit - I should have paid more attention to Maester Luwin." She wrote down as consequence 'The Entire Population of the Westerlands (Noble only please)'. The book seemed to shudder for a moment, but quickly righted itself.

"Good!" Arya said, "The entire Kingsguard! The entirety of the Goldcloaks! The High Septon! The Ironborn! The crowd who cheered for fathers death! The wildlings! The monsters from Old Nan's stories! Slaver's Bay! Old Valyria! The Others! The Seven! The Drowned God! That Red thing from across the ocean!"

This continued for some time. There were no survivors.

Chapter Text

 The Folly of Prophecy -or- Six Dragons breathe upon the Dawn

i) Elia

It had started with a sign from the Gods.

The Poison is procured easily enough, Maester Pycelle never having enough sense to keep an eye on his stocks.

A sign that another family had been chosen in the Targaryen's place.

He pours it into the glass himself, though subtly enough that a servant could be blamed in his place.

He didn't know why he hadn't seen it before, the fates must have been screaming at his ignorance!

One tear falls in also, for the life that might have been.

But how to ensure they inherited the throne? His father, his family, the Kingdom would never stand for it!

He doesn't take the glass over himself, content that his prediction will ensure the child is never born.

They must die.

Elia drinks the moontea without a single suspicion of its existence.

We must die.

The thing that might have been a child is revealed in a cascade of blood and tears.

A Song of Ice and Fire.

ii) Aerys

Rhaegar had expected to feel more regretful as he snuck through the tunnels of the Red Keep. This is perhaps the most dangerous part of his plan, a single misstep here will end with him executed for regicide and Viserys as King.

Part of him even wishes for it, a reprise from the prospect of executing his family. They wear dragons, rode dragons, are dragons - why are the Baratheons the ones chosen by fate? Is it that his family has lost their way? Is it that they've become to Westerosised? Is it because they've lost their dragons?

Is the prophecy wrong?

A Song of Ice and Fire...

No. No, the prophecy couldn't be wrong. No! He was a fool to even question that, the words had been passed down through the centuries for him for understand - that was obvious. He was the harbinger of a new age, not the creator - the Targaryens were unworthy. He was unworthy.

He resumed his progress towards his father's rooms. The court believed that he and Jon Connington were currently out on a hunting trip. Jon had certainly believed that - indeed he had been quite excited at the idea - until Rhaegar's blade had plunged into his throat. Jon's body would never be found, Rhaegar himself will return in two days claiming an attack by bandits.

None will suspect him of Kinslaying, none...

"What are you doing boy?!"

His father had never been good to him; that - along with his certainty that this was necessary - perhaps made slitting his throat easier. Still the blood - Kin's Blood, King's Blood, Dragon's Blood - is enough to deny him sleep for many a coming day.

Four Dragons breathe upon the Dawn.

iii) Viserys

The bards announce a plot to destroy the Targaryens. The Blackfyres are blamed, as are the Darklyns and a thousand other houses he has barely heard of.

Some blame the Baratheons, a viewpoint he quickly works to stamp out.

None blame him, a reality that he is both grateful for - as it suits his purpose - and resentful off. Rhaegar had always dreamed of being remembered and even the memory of a mad king was better than none. But no, if the truth did come out it would have to wait until the very end when there were no Targaryens left. The prophecy wouldn't allow anything else.

His coronation (and Elia's technically, though his wife has been increasingly sidelined) goes off without any issues. His father was not popular in the court and the Lord of the Realm care little for who sits on the Iron Throne - a small mercy. The maids whisper over how handsome he is - and how little Elia deserves him; a shy, plain, weak-willed Dornish savage.

He does not bother to correct them, there are more important matters at hand.

He cannot kill his brother the same way as his father. Not only does Viserys not deserve it, but the screams - and there would be screams, he's only three -

A Song of Ice and Fire...

The screams would attract help. So it must be poison - quick, painless and certain to kill. And it must get by the food-testers, otherwise his job will be near impossible. He ponders and waits, cunning as the Dragons he is descended from...and strikes when one of the Food Testers fall ill. It is a small thing, nothing major - but enough for a paranoid Targaryen to remove someone from office, temporarily of course.

The following day Viserys falls dead at the dinner table. Rhaella and Elia cry at the loss, Rhaegar just ponders...and waits again.

Three Dragons breathe upon the Dawn.

iv) Rhaella

Rhaegar cries more than he has at any other time when Rhaella's turn comes. She was - is his mother and the prophecy is cruel. Kinslaying is a crime, is it not? Why do the Gods demand this of him?

It does not matter.

Rhaella's guards do not notice him enter her room, they have already been drugged to sleep for hours. They will probably be executed - the court will demand nothing less - but their lives are not important. Their deaths are acceptable in the grand design; the Game of the Gods.

Rhaella barely resists as he smothers her and in some ways that is worse. He feels like a monster to kill this defenceless, pregnant woman - his mother and unborn sibling.

A Song of Ice and Fire...

He presses down harder. The look in her eyes - grief, disbelief, betrayal - he imagines it will follow him forever. He does not go to the Sept to find solace, instead taking a silent walk under the night sky.

He cannot see any stars tonight and even the moon is absent, covered by cloud or shadow he knows not. Just blackness to surround him, blackness absorbing him as an acknowledgment of his sins - blackness aside from one star far to the North.

After all, One Dragon still breaths upon the Dawn.

v) Rhaegar

They find the King's body three hours after he has passed on. Poison they say, self inflicted - out of grief most probably, the poor bastard. With him the Targaryens are finished, the Dragonlords gone forever.

Most assume that the reign of the Stag begins now, a fact made certain by Robert Baratheon's immediate marriage to Lyanna Stark. The wedding is unhappy some say, that this is a marriage that will not bear many babes, that the girl will die in childbirth.

The fact that several of these rumours come from Casterly Rock is unnoticed.

But then Elia Martell reveals her own pregnancy, a desperate hope for those who hope that the dragons will return - and those who hate the Baratheons with a passion. Dorne is quick to support her, as are the Westerlands and the Vale - the latter bringing Robert and his brother over for a time.

A nervous peace, a weak peace but still a peace...

And then the babe is born a girl with no resemblance to her father.

No Dragons breathe upon the Dawn.

Chapter Text

The Lands of the Bloody Knife (Upside-down Westeros)

Moving on from the last region of central Westeros, we come to the great southern region of the Starklands, which consists all the territory from the shallow sea known as 'the Neck' to the great sandstone forts controlled by the Djinn's Watch. By far the most diverse region of Westeros and the largest, this kingdom has been ruled over by House Stark since the Age of Heroes, the Kings of the largest city in Westeros - Oblivion. They control a land of many stories, many peoples, many castles and rivers and deserts.

The Neck

A shallow salt sea separating the Starklands from the rest of Westeros, the Neck is famed as one of the most beautiful regions in the world due to its eternally calm waters and magnificent coral reefs (protected as property of House Stark); particularly under a good sunrise. Fish are abundant in this natural safe harbour and are watched over by the Saltmen - highborn and lowborn who jealousy guard their shoals. The Saltmen live their lives on great floating towns, constructed both of driftwood and of varieties purchased from the mainland. The Warden of this region in the Lord of the aptly-named House Salt.

The Three Sisters

A group of islands previously owned by the Vale that were conquered by the Starklands Navy during the Mad Trout's War. They are governed directly from Oblivion to ensure that they stay with the kingdom and operate predominantly as a naval base in the Bite. No noble houses exist as of yet.

The Rills

A hilly but heavily populated region in the north Starklands, the Rills are one of the two most fertile regions in the kingdom. The most powerful family here is House Ryswell, famed for being heavily devout to the Faith of the Seven and owning perhaps the finest herd of horses in Westeros - the famous Sand Steeds. The Seven have a powerful presence here with Septs being a common sight in many villages and towns. Other noble families include Houses Dustin, Ladybright and Glenmore.

In ancient history this region was ruled by House Ryder, a family who claimed the title 'King of the Horselords'. They were wiped out by House Stark in 13BVD after a rebellion.

The Sandship

The seat of House Nymeros and the second largest city in the Starklands, the Sandship is the traditional centre of Rhoynah culture in Westeros. A great winding labyrinth built upon the delta of the Bloody Knife, the city of the Sandship plays host to the majority of the shipbuilding of the Starklands along with the few surviving schools of water magic. The actual Sandship is the nickname for the castle of House Nymeros, built as a strange construction pointing towards the original Rhoyne is Essos.

Mother Rhoyne is the top god(ess) here, though the Seven do have a few Septs scattered throughout the great city. However even this has been adapted in a Rhoynah form, with the Mother and Father ruling as equals and the Crone arguably taking an even more powerful role. Equality for women is also enforced here and has spread throughout the kingdom (as can be seen by the current heir of House Stark being female).

The Midlands

The central region of the Starklands and the second of the two 'most fertile regions'. The Midlands are controlled directly from the great city of Oblivion and are watered by both the Bloody Knife and the Broken Branch. Herds of sheep and cattle are common throughout this area, as are the wandering priests of both the Seven and the Rhoynah. Noble Houses include the Cerwyns, the Redstarks and the Flints.

Oblivion

The largest city in Westeros, even moreso than Lannisport, Mjjonir and Gulltown. Oblivion was founded on the northern bank of a split in the Bloody Knife, but has since expanded onto the other banks and the central island as well. Several bridges connect the separate parts of the city, two of the largest containing their own buildings and businesses akin to the Black Bridge of Volantis. Grandeur and Splendour are key in the city of the Starks, where even the most lowly peasant adorns themselves in pretty stones and colourful garments (though only the royals are allowed to wear the colour of purple). Large sewer systems stretch under much of the city to keep the stench unnoticeable, though the great river has been starting to show signs of pollution.

The citadel of House Stark sits in the centre of the old city walls upon a natural hill. The oldest parts of it are in the heavy style of the First Men, but since then it has been added to in both the Andal and the Rhoynah styles to create a strange mishmash of fine architecture. Loras Windborn famously referred to it as 'the most maddening place I have ever beholden'.

The White Cliffs

A small region on the eastern coast of the Starklands, the White Cliffs are the only part of the kingdom that keep a strong devotion to the Old Gods of the First Men. As such, this is the only place is the Starklands where Weirwood trees can still be found. Spared by chance during the Andal Invasion due to a combination of their own infertile lands and closeness to the desert, the community of noble families here are insular and unwelcoming to outsiders. The families include Houses Greystark, Cerwyn and Amber.

The castles here are most often built as motte and baileys, placed in strategic positions to guard over the magnificent cliffs that give the region its name. The sizeable town of Rook's Rest exists on the northmost point of this region. Large storms are known to batter this region with some frequency and twice in recent memory the area has been visited by a Maelstrom; the truly great storms from across the Summer Sea.

Emu Island

An sparsely populated island off the western coast, Emu Island had recently become the domain of House Greenstark to prevent it from becoming a haven for pirates. It has received its name for the native birds, which are unique in the known world due to being flightless and massive. The island has a small jungle on the southern third and persistent rumours of a half-tame White Wyvern called One-Eye.

Skagos

One of the most southerly islands in the world, Skagos is a haven for pirates and smugglers following the extinction of the native houses on charges of cannibalism and slavery. As of yet House Stark has not announced any plans to resettle the island, despite it being apparently a beautiful haven for wildlife.

Bolton's Woe

Named for a long-dead rival of House Stark, Bolton's Woe is the most famous of the many names given to the great desert than occupies much of the south Starklands. A harsh and barren land, the desert is nonetheless inhabited by scattered tribes and a few castles clinging to the shores of the Long Lake and the New Rhoyne. Notable families in this region include the Houses Umber, Sandstark (cadet branch), Garin and Glover. Nomadic tribes include the men of the Rose, the Fangteeth, the Dustborn and the Twicedead (translated into the common tongue as many of the tribes speak variants of Rhoynah or the first men tongue).

Wildlife in the desert has adapted well to the harsh climate, creating bizarre animals that appear nowhere else in Westeros. These include the camels, horse-like creatures favoured by the nomadic tribes able to survive for weeks without water. Their chief predators are the Direwolves, massive predators with little fur and sharp fangs who may be slowly dying out.

The Djinn's Watch

At the southern edge of the Great Desert we at last come to the edge of the Stark's Kingdom. An invisible line marks the transition into the region known as 'the Gift', though in reality the Starks exercise de facto control here as well due to the declining numbers of the region's owners. The official rulers of the area are the brotherhood known as the Djinn's Watch, founded following the Endless Day on the instruction of Brandon the Builder. They occupy a series of great sandstone forts on the edge of the desert (seven in total), though two of those are currently unoccupied due to the order's slowly declining numbers. Djinn's Watch members can be either male or female, with the understanding that membership of the order is for life and that any children they conceive will be passed into the care of the orphanages of Oblivion.

Beyond

Even if this age of exploration and discovery we know very little about the great jungle known only as 'The Beyond'. Even the men of the Djinn's Watch know very little about the region, though the few tales told by the Great Rangers speak of unimaginable horrors. Of rivers filled with man-eating insects and fish. Of glades where the sun cannot break through the canopy above. Of elephant sized apes and dragon sized elephants. Of the Wyverns, smaller cousins of the Dragons of Valyria. Of abandoned cities and great treasure, of ghouls and cannibals, of lizard men and a great shadow beyond...

The tales of the Endless Day state that this is the region under the direct control of the Djinn (also known as the Voice-of-Fire, the Great Enemy and She-who-Thirsts). They state that her army of Sandmen and Wind Spirits grows by the hour and that Westeros must prepare for a second coming.

The truth of this statement is unknown.

-King Brandon Stark m. Queen Obara Nymeros
--Princess Robyn Stark m. Prince Hugor Ryswell
---Prince Theon Stark
--Princess Arianne Stark m. Lord Mark Ryswell
--Princess Lyarra Stark
--Princess Nymeria Stark
-Princess Eddara Stark m. Lord (Great)Jon Umber
--Ser Howland Umber
-Prince Ryon Stark 'the Wandering Wolf' w. Unknown
-- Dacey Sand
-Princess Tyene Stark m. Lord Cletus Salt

Chapter Text

King's Landing

Stannis Baratheon, the true and rightful heir of Robert Bobby Baratheon sighed as he surveyed the situation in front of him. A line of people from all classes, perhaps 50 in total stretched out into the distance, forming a ludicrous queue snaking its way out of the throne room of the Red Keep. At the far end was a small desk installed by King Darron the Good for the filing of rebellion requests, an admittedly understandable action considering the man had suffered no less than a hundred rebellions before being killed and impersonated by his aunt Daena.

His sympathy for the king's motives did not however relieve his frustrations, particularly when the queue was moving forwards at ten people an hour. If he had been a weaker man he would have considered queue jumping, but he was not and so would contently wait until his appointment arrived. Even if his legs had started aching like the backend of a sand stead.

He began to take notice of the people ahead of him in the line, some of them looking quite familiar. There was an old cloaked man bereft of shoes, a Dothraki warlord accompanied by his clearly Valyrian wife (how that occurred Stannis had no idea), a pirate with a startling visual similarity to Balon Greyjoy (though with the addition of an eyepatch), a Martell, a pissed off cat, an actual dragon...and right in front of him, a small blonde girl impatiently tapping her foot.

Was that...

"Myrcella?" he spluttered, "Why are you here?" His purported niece turned around.

"Same reason as you uncle" she said, "I plan on displacing Joffrey as monarch and electing myself in his place."

"But...why? Don't you consider Joffrey the rightful heir to the throne?" She shrugged.

"Probably, but I would sooo make a better-hang on, why are you here?"

"Filing a rebellion" Stannis stated. Myrcella glared.

"And..." she spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child; "Why are you doing that? Don't you agree Joffrey is the rightful heir?" Stannis looked intently into the distance. "Shireen, get the truth out of him."

"Shireen?" Another small girl emerged from in front of Myrcella, riding upon a majestic stag. "Why are you filing a petition?...for that matter, how are you here? I left you back on Dragonstone!" She shrugged.

"The stag told me to do it" she replied.

"The stag?"

"Hello" said Xerneas, "Sorry for blowing you up in another timeline."

Stannis stared. Myrcella stared. Shireen stared. Balerion (the dragon) stared. Balerion (the cat) stared. Wade Wilson danced.

And then came the noises from behind them in the queue.

"Hand over your lunch money, dweeb!" shouted Balon Greyjoy, grasping the unfortunate 'dweeb' by the throat.

"Ahhh!" screamed Renly, "Take it! Take it!"

"Good!" spat the Ironborn, "Now don't let me see your fat ass again for a day!" The youngest Baratheon scampered off in fear, the tail on his onesie tucked through his legs. "Right, then - who's next? YOU, Wolf-fucker! Hand over your lunch money!"

"How about you hand over your lunch money and I don't tell Grey Wind to eat your face?" Robb Stark suggested, raising his eyebrows as if he went through this situation every day. "Or I could tell Greatjon to remove your spleen? Or Roose to flay you? Or Rickon to-"

"Take it, take it!" screamed Balon, dropping the Young Wolf and running away as fast as possible. Robb sighed and rubbed his neck, before waving at Stannis and company when he noted their stares. Myrcella waved back shyly. Stannis was tempted to wave his fist in annoyance, but restrained himself as always.

Similar events happened throughout the day, providing some minor distractions from the soul-crushing boredom of waiting in line for hours. Highlights included when the two Aegon's got into a fight over who was Rhaegar's true heir (Elia's son won when Jon Snow managed to trip over his own feet and thereby knock himself out), Norberta showing up to bring Balerion (the Dragon) a packed lunch, Victarion and Asha Greyjoy trying the same trick as Balon and Euron summoning a kraken and wiping out half the line (Stannis was quietly pleased at this last one). On the whole though, the wait was long and painful - and not just because of the numerous backstabbings performed by everyone else in the line including Shireen.

To pass the time, he decided to talk to the other kings - traitors, he meant other traitors. Wait...

"Stark" Stannis snapped, "Why are you rebelling?" Robb shrugged.

"My bannermen decided to declare me king for some reason, so I'm having to go through with this or risk losing any control over them." He rolled his eyes, "To be honest I understand the situation as much as you do - which is to say very little."

"Don't undersell yourself my love" said a sultry voice, "You'll make a great king, I know." The woman behind Robb moved around to embrace him, posing the two of them as if for a painting. Myrcella blinked.

"Aren't you..."

"Margaery Tyrell?" Stannis spluttered, "Weren't you married to Renly?" The woman shrugged.

"Renly ran away a dozen paragraphs ago, so I've had to find another candidate to attach myself to - not that my love for you was ever in doubt Robb." She pecked the boy's cheek.

"Yes mother Margaery..."

"Stark" Stannis said, "I thought you said you were campaigning for an independent North?"

"...I am?"

"...you do know that Mace Tyrell wants his daughter on the Iron Throne and won't accept anything else?"

"...yes?"

"And you don't see a problem with this?"

"............no?"

"Of course he knows" Margaery cut in, "My noble husband is fully aware of everything required to win me my throne win the war." She buried her head in his chest. Slowly, one of Robb's hands came up to pat her back.

Stannis turned back to the front with a sigh. It was clear he was going to get nowhere with either of them. Or Myrcella and Shireen who were busy sharing lemoncakes of the back of Xerneas. Or the many candidates in front, most trying to avoid the five way battle between Euron, Dany, Balerion (the Cat), Balerion (the Dragon) and Ser Twenty of House Goodmen.

It was ten hours later when he finally got to the front, at which point he discovered that he was actually in a queue for volunteers to resettle Valyria.

There were no survivors.

Chapter Text

‘Lights spring up on a stage, occupied by one chair and one extremely long sofa. An incredibly corny version of the show theme starts to play’

Announcer (Bloodraven): Lords, Ladies and Filthy Smallfolk; Welcome to the show tonight! I give you your host, Caesar Flickerman!

‘A man with brilliant golden hair and eyebrows springs up from the lone chair and smiles! He waves with joy to the audience, his suit sparkling in the spotlights. He is fantastic, glorious, beautiful - oh, my panties are moist just thinking about him...’

Caesar: Hello Westeros! Oh we’ve got a brilliant show for you tonight, Ha-ha! We’ve got Aerys the Mad teaching us how to make a per-fect barbecue! Harren Whore revealing his five favourite sheds! And yet another season of The Stranger’s Games! Ha-ha-ha, Child Murder is hilarious!

‘The Audience Cheers’

Caesar: But first! ‘His beautiful face suddenly becomes deadly serious’ We have the definite answer to a question that has been troubling far, far too many of you - truly I tell you, many nights have I stayed awake fantasising over the answer! On the show tonight we ask -

‘Lights slam on at the back of the stage’

Caesar: Eddard Stark, Who is the Mother!

‘At the back of the stage and on the long sofa, a horde of people are revealed - some happier to be here than others. There is Eddard Stark, securely tied up. Catelyn Stark, looking very uncomfortable. Ashara Dayne, gorgeous as ever. And many other women with them; plus Robert Baratheon, Oberyn Martell and the decapitated head of Rhaegar Targaryen.’

Caesar: So Eddard - can I call you Ned?

Eddard: ‘Bound and Gagged’

Caesar: I think that’s a Yes, folks! Ha-ha!

Catelyn: ‘Sighs’

Caesar: So Eddard, do you have any thoughts on who the mother might be? Any hints? Any ideas? ‘Waggles Eyebrows’ Any...‘suggestions’?

Robert: Seven Hells, get on with it!

Caesar: Careful Robert, what our DNA tester has discovered might change everything for you! Ha-ha-ha! But yes, let’s move on! Any volunteers to go first?

‘Silence’

Caesar: Anyone? Helloooo?

Catelyn:...’weakly raises hand’

Caesar: A volunteer! Give her a hand Lords and Ladies! Ha-ha! Welll...according to the paper I have here...Catelyn Stark. You are...NOT the Mother!

Catelyn: Oh thank the Gods! ‘Sighs in relief and then starts glaring at Ned.’

Ned: ‘Still Bound and gagged’

Caesar: Ashara Dayne! You are up next, Ha-ha! Now according to our interviewer, you admitted to sleeping with both Ned and his brother!

‘Gasps from the Audience! Glares from Catelyn! Laughter from Robert!’

Catelyn: I knew it!

Ashara: Oh don’t worry yourself Tully, it was way before you married him! And it wasn’t just Bran and Ned, I did Benjen, Lyanna, Robert-

Robert: Don’t drag me into this you bitch! That was meant to be private.

Caesar: Settle down everyone! Ha-ha-ha! Now then, Ashara Dayne! You are...NOT the mother!

‘Mass crying from the audience’

Caesar: You are however the mother of Tyrion Lannister somehow! Ha-ha!

‘In the audience, Tywin spits out his drink’

Cersei: Wait, what! That monster isn’t even-

Caesar: Now, now my dear Cersei - wait your turn! The next potential mother is...Robert! Ha-ha!

Robert: I have a penis! How can I be the mother?

Caesar: Quite easily, Ha-ha! Here in the capitol-

Catelyn: I thought we were in Winterfell?

Ashara: I thought we were in Starfall?

Rhaegar’s Head: ‘Dead’

‘Laughter from the audience’

Caesar: I am the host and so naturally I know where we are! Ha-ha! But regardless, when has science ever got in the way of true love! Robert, you are...NOT the mother!

Robert: Well obviously!

Catelyn: How was this in question?

Caesar: You are however the mother of Mya Stone!

Robert:...I’m aware. And hey, I’m her father not-

Caesar: -and Mya’s dad is Ned!

‘Gasps from the audience! Cersei faints’

Catelyn: How does that even work! ‘Glares at Robert’

Robert: How should I know? I don’t remember this at all! ‘Glares at Catelyn’

Caesar: My Ladies, surely there’s enough of Ned to go around, Ha-ha! ‘Both glare at him’ Since Cersei seems to have nodded off, I might as well reveal that she is NOT the mother!

Ned: ‘A grunt that sounds suspiciously like “Thank the Gods’

Caesar: Nor is Elia Martell; which is good considering her prior luck with children - am I right? Ha-ha-ha-ha! Mutilated Infants are hysterical!

‘Elia bursts into tears and runs offstage. Oberyn tries to stab Caesar who dodges. Ned and Catelyn look disgusted. Show!Lyanna laughs with glee.’

Caesar: The next person on my sheet is-

Robert: I vote we skip ahead to the actual mother, I want to go home.

Catelyn: I agree, I have to check Arya and Sansa haven't murdered each other.

Ashara: Same! Who is this bitch who’s cuckolded my next conquest!

Catelyn: 'Worried' Wait, what?

Ned: ‘Muffled Panic’

Caesar: Fine, fine - Ha-ha! The Real Mother of Jon Snow is...is...is

Robert: If it turns out to be Rhaegar we are never talking again.

Caesar:...SLAN-NESH!!!

‘TV switches off’

Brandon 'the Builder': This show sucks! I’m going back to reading A Song of Dragons and Toads.

Theon 'the Hungry': I agree. I'm off to sack Andalos!

Cregan 'the Old': Andalos doesn't exist anymore, you twat!

Theon: Then I'll make a new Andalos! With Poker and Hookers!

Chapter Text

Tywin glared at the scout standing nervously in front of him. The poor man was turning blue from fear, even as the Old Lion turned a fascinating shade of scarlet. Interestingly enough, this matched the colour of his tent perfectly (but that’s neither here nor there...)

“You mean to tell me...” he began again, not even attempting to control the scorn in his voice; “...that a castle has just ‘appeared’ in the path of this army?”

The man swallowed. “Yes, m’lord” he replied, “A massive one, bigger than Harrenhal if that’s possible! But not as ugly-“

“Tell me, Pippin” growled Tywin, curling his lips at the sound of the man’s ridiculous name; “Do my...scouts usually perform their duties under the influence of heavy alcohol?”

Pippin’s ears flushed red. “We weren’t drunk, m’lord! The castle is right there, on the cliff edge!”

“I am of the impression that there are no cliffs in the middle of the Riverlands” replied Tywin, “Nor are there mysteriously appearing ‘Black Lakes’. Or for that matter, mysteriously appearing castles.”

“M’lord, I’m-“

“Remove yourself from my presence and count yourself lucky that I have decided to be merciful.” Tywin’s eyes were as harsh as diamonds. “But drink on duty again and Ser Gregor himself will personally deal with you.”

The following day, while marching north...

“Oh for crying out loud, what is it now?!” screeched Tywin, who was already suffering from saddle rash.

“Your Gra-I mean, m’lord a castle lies barely an hour ahead of us.”

“What.”

“It isn’t flying any bann-“

“Clegane, get over here immediately!” screeched the rather peeved Lion, “I need you to murder my scouts!”

“All of them?” asked Gregor.

“All of them” spat Tywin.

“I’m on it” muttered the Mountain in reply.

After a few minutes of nearly being killed by everything more significant than a speck of dirt, Tywin and his party decided to stay in the main courtyard. The Lord of Casterly Rock admired himself in a mirror, the two guardsmen played poker, Kevan got into a animated discussion with the kids on the benefits of Soul Bonds (read: none.) and the standard bearer was kidnapped by a territorial pack of owls and a phoenix.

Finally, the teachers returned from their staff meeting. “I have decided” began Albus, “That I will accompany these muggles so as to learn more about this world. Minerva, you will head south to this ‘Citadel’ and discover why all this world’s knowledge is concentrated in one place. Moody-“ he turned to the heavily scared man. “You will infiltrate the camp of Robb Stark and learn what you can from there.”

“I can do that” muttered the man.

“Nymphadora, you will infiltrate the camp of Renly Baratheon.” A purple (purple?!) headed woman nodded, before scowling at something.

“Remus, you-“

“Hold on here” began Tywin, “If you think that I will allow your people to ally themselves with the false Kings, you are heavily mistaken!“

The crowd stared at him in bemusement, until finally the one called Moody raised his stick and muttered one word -

“Confoundus.”

Chapter Text

Barristan Selmy mused internally as he stood watching over Queen Rhaella and the other ladies of the court. Many of the young women were in the midst of gossiping, joined only occasionally by one of the older wives who considered themselves above such childish behaviour. Among them were many of eldest daughters of the Realm, sent to King’s Landing by their fathers to woo a worthy husband - or the prince if he proved weak to a woman’s charms. The queen herself remained ever quiet as her husband...wished, though in Barristan’s mind she looked far healthier than she had been in years.

The Kingsguard wondered how such a thing was possible, since he believed that the King was unlikely to deliberately treat her gentler - though he wasn’t judging Aerys for that, of course. He was the king, his actions were not the Kingsguard’s to let judgement upon. Perhaps Aerys had suddenly had a change of heart, stranger things had happened in the past!

Though if he was honest, Barristan was well aware of the reason behind the King’s sudden attitude change. The newest member of the Queen’s ladies sat apart from the rest, her hands clenched around a handkerchief embroidered with the hideous approximation of a lion. Jai-Joanna Lannister bore an expression more suited to an angry wildling than a noble lady, something that the makeup and wig did little to hide. The dress did a better job of hiding her lack of ‘assets’, but even then it was ruined by Joanna’s slouch and posture.

The fact that this hadn’t dissuaded Aerys at all was probably a greater reflection on his mental state than Barristan would have liked. Still, the King was happy, Rhaella was happy, Rhaegar was happy...what was a Kingsguard’s suffering worth compared to such achievements?

Chapter Text

The Fall of Kings (Early Dance Ruler Game)

Family Tree

The Seven Kingdoms after the Death of Aegon the Conqueror, 32AC

Court of Aenys I
King on the Iron Throne: Aenys of the House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord of Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm (1)
Queen on the Iron Throne: Aerea Targaryen (2)
Heir to the Iron Thrones: None acknowledged, de facto Aerion Targaryen (3)

Small Council
Hand of the King: Ser Osmund Strong (4)
Master of Coin: Lord Crispian Celtigar (5)
Master of Laws: Lord Boros Baratheon (6)
Master of Ships: Lord Aethan Velaryon
Grand Maester: Gawen
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Ser Corlys Velaryon (7)

Lords Paramount
Lord of the North: Lord Torrhen Stark (8)
Lord of the Reach: Lord Theo Tyrell (9)
Lord of the Stormlands: Lord Boros Baratheon
Lord of the Westerlands: Lord Lyman Lannister
Lord of the Riverlands: Lord Axel Tully (10)
Lord of the Vale: Lord Ronnel Arryn
Lord of the Iron Islands: Lord Gowen Greyjoy (11)

Dragons of the Court
Balerion (the Black Dread), bonded to Prince Maegor
Meraxes, bonded to Queen Dowager Rhaenys
Vhaegar, bonded to Princess Vaella
Quicksilver, bonded to King Aenys

Other People of Note
Queen Dowager Rhaenys Targaryen (12)
Queen Visenya Targaryen (Deceased) (13)
Prince Aerion Targaryen (14)
Princess Deria Martell (15)

1. Aegon the Conqueror’s eldest child, but also the weakest and perhaps least popular of the line of Rhaenys. Was married to his eldest sister in 23AC, but has yet to have a surviving child. Despite these flaws, his rule over the Seven Kingdoms seems secure, even with the quiet murmurs of rebellion and the mysterious manner of his father’s death. Rides the Dragon Quicksilver.
2. Known realm-wide as ‘the Barren Queen’, Aerea Targaryen is the eldest daughter (and forth child) of Aegon. Her marriage to her brother was met with heavy protest by the Faith, who have claimed that her failure to conceive is divine punishment for the sin of incest. A sweet hearted woman nonetheless, who is beloved by the rest of her family.
3. A matter of dispute between Aerion, third son of Aegon and second of Rhaenys and Maegor, second son of Aegon and eldest of Visenya.
4. An old man, steadily loyal to Aegon and Aenys.
5. Another strong supporter of Aenys, though his ‘loyalty’ is primarily motivated by a rivalry with the Velaryons.
6. Succeeded to the Lordship of the Stormlands following the death of his elder brother Davos in the Dornish War. Allied to House Velaryon following the marriage of his son Robar to Aethan Velaryon’s youngest daughter Elena.
7. A quiet ally of Aerion Targaryen, who would rather that his niece succeeded to the Iron Throne over Maegor’s wife.
8. Isolationist, though still rather angry over the forced marriage of his daughter to Lord Ronnel Arryn.
9. Uninvolved in court politics, due to his attempts to sure up House Tyrell’s control of the Reach.
10. Very, very, very, VERY loyal to the Targaryens in general. Has a quiet rivalry with the Darrys. Has named his heir Aegon after the former king.
11. Too afraid to rebel, but would be very glad to be rid of all the pesky Septons now infesting his islands. Doesn’t miss the Hoares.
12. Mourns her husband and rarely involves herself in court politics. Despite this, she is an adamant opponent of any of Visenya’s children – especially Maegor.
13. Died giving birth to her second son Viserys. Was cremated and then buried in a tomb which Aegon now shares. Dark Sister went to her eldest son Maegor.
14. De facto heir of Aenys I, married to Alyssa Velaryon. Has a cordial relationship with his half-brother Maegor, though the two are known to respect the other’s skill with the sword. Wields Blackfyre after his father’s death.
15. Currently not interested in war, though she is keeping a close eye on affairs north of the border.

The Seven Kingdoms after the Death of Aenys I and Aerion Targaryen, 34AC

Court of Aemon the Mad
King on the Iron Throne: Aemon of the House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord of Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm (1)
Queen on the Iron Throne: Aerea Targaryen (2)
Queen on the Iron Throne: Gael Targaryen (3)
Heir to the Iron Throne: Daemon ‘Pot’ Waters (4)

Small Council
Hand of the King: Lord Jonos Arryn (5)
Master of Coin: Lord Crispian Celtigar (6)
Master of Laws: None (7)
Master of Ships: Ser Lorys Celtigar
Grand Maester: None (8)
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Ser Addison Hill (9)

Lords Paramount
Lord of the North: Lord Torrhen Stark (neutral) (10)
Lord of the Reach: Lord Theo Tyrell (neutral) (11)
Lord of the Stormlands: In Rebellion (12)
Lord of the Westerlands: In Rebellion
Lord of the Riverlands: In Rebellion (13)
Lord of the Vale: Lord Jonos Arryn
Lord of the Iron Islands: Lord Gowen Greyjoy (14)

Dragons of the Court
Terraxes, bonded to King Aemon
Meraxes, bonded to Queen Dowager Rhaenys

Other People of Note
Queen Dowager Rhaenys Targaryen (15)
Lord Dormund Darry (16)

1. Banished from court by his father after seducing his sister Aegelle the day before her wedding; Aemon ‘the Mad’ is a notorious womaniser and rapist who has so far evaded any true punishment for his crimes. His return from exile would have normally been unremarkable except to Targaryen family members; but it came one day after the sudden death of Aenys I, a murder that Aemon quickly ‘revealed’ had been caused by his brother Aerion and his Velaryon wife in an attempt to seize the Iron Throne (Aerion was quickly executed for his ‘crime’). In the resulting power vacuum, Aemon was quick to declare himself King of Westeros – a proclamation that has sent the Seven Kingdoms spiralling into war. He has also claimed control of Terraxes, a young and formerly wild dragon. He has claimed numerous paramours already from the court.
2. Forcibly married to her other brother mere days after her husband’s death. Not in a stable state of mind and likely to be murdered by Aemon once he has had his ‘fun’.
3. The only child of Maegor and his deceased sister wife Vaella, known by family as a lovely (if somewhat simple) child. She was visiting the court of Aenys during the arrival of Aemon and was quickly forced to become his second bride. Rumours state that she is already pregnant…
4. The bastard child of Aemon and Aegelle, who had been acknowledged (though not legitimised) as the new King’s heir following the rise of Maegor in rebellion. The reluctant squire of Ser Addison Hill.
5. Has yet to take up his new position, due to him needing to ensure his own position in the Vale. Responsible for his brother Ronnel’s murder, along with his Stark wife and children, after being contacted by Aemon in secret.
6. The Celtigars have declared for Aemon in opposition to the Velaryons doing the exact opposite. They have nonetheless been given ample rewards by the new king and are swiftly moving to besiege Driftmark.
7. Empty since Lord Boros Baratheon has declared for Maegor.
8. Killed by Aemon as an ‘assistant to Aenys’ murder’.
9. The only member of Aenys’ Kingsguard to declare for Aemon, due to a strong dislike for Maegor.
10. Officially neutral, but is expected to declare for Maegor in retaliation for his daughter and grandchildren’s murder.
11. Actually neutral, is more interested in keeping the Reach together than declaring for anyone.
12. Boros Baratheon joined the Velaryons in rebellion at the spurring of his gooddaughter.
13. Axel Tully was the first to declare for Maegor and already marches on the Crownlands.
14. Has joined Aemon with promises of dominion over the Riverlands, but still fears the possibility of facing a dragon.
15. Not long for this world, due to the grief of losing two sons. Rumours suggest that Aemon has forcibly lain with her, but this is just a rumour. Probably.
16. In negotiation with Aemon on the subject of possible rewards…

Court of Maegor the Great
King on Dragonstone: Maegor of the House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord of Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm (1)
Queen on Dragonstone: Aegelle Targaryen (2)
Heir: Maegor II Targaryen (3)

Small Council (4)
Master of Laws: Lord Boros Baratheon
Master of Ships: Lord Aethan Velaryon (5)
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Ser Gregor Goode (6)

Lords Paramount
Lord of the North: Lord Torrhen Stark (neutral)
Lord of the Reach: Lord Theo Tyrell (neutral)
Lord of the Stormlands: Lord Boros Baratheon
Lord of the Westerlands: Lord Lyman Lannister (7)
Lord of the Riverlands: Lord Axel Tully (8)
Lord of the Vale: N/A (9)
Lord of the Iron Islands: In Rebellion

Dragons of the Court
Balerion (the Black Dread), bonded to King Maegor.
Vhaegar, currently unbonded.
Ghost, bonded to Lady Elena Velaryon (10)

Other People of Note
Ser Robar Baratheon (11)
Prince Viserys Targaryen (12)
Princess Rhaena Targaryen (13)

1. The eldest son of Visenya and second son of Aegon, Maegor was often treated as the unfavourite by his father (which is not at all ironic). Prior to the outbreak of this war he was at odds with both Aenys and Aerion; but upon hearing of their deaths he was quick to declare Aemon a kinslayer and himself their successor. He is currently on Dragonstone, but plans to move south to Storm’s End to lead an invasion of the Crownlands. He is desperate to rescue his daughter from captivity.
2. Maegor’s second wife, married to him a few months after her ‘ruining’ at the hands of Aemon. Mother to Maegor’s son and heir.
3. A boy of two.
4. The small council is yet to be filled, since Maegor has not yet left Dragonstone.
5. Aethan escaped from King’s Landing after the death of Aemon. He has reluctantly declared for Maegor since he knows support for his great-niece is unlikely to outweigh either of her uncles.
6. One of the two surviving members of Aenys’ Kingsguard and the only one of the two who has declared for Maegor. Presented his sword to the king mere hours after news of Aenys’ death reached Dragonstone.
7. Declared for Maegor with little prompting. Would appreciate some new territory (out of the Reach or Riverlands), but is not fussed.
8. Doesn’t quite like Maegor, but is determined to avenge Aenys and Aerion’s deaths. Plans to attack the Crownlands from the north while Boros attacks from the south.
9. The Royce’s are being considered but letters have yet to be sent.
10. A surprise twist that no one saw coming, Elena is the former goodsister of Aerion Targaryen and the first non-Targaryen dragonrider in Westeros.
11. The son and heir of Boros Baratheon. Married to Elena Velaryon.
12. Brother to Maegor Targaryen. A quietly pious man and a source of never ending irritation for his brother and formerly his mother.
13. Only daughter of Aerion Targaryen, an ambitious girl who desires the throne for herself.

The Seven Kingdoms after the Death of Aemon I (the Mad) and Maegor I (the Great), 35AC

Court of Maegor ‘the Younger’
King on the Iron Throne: Maegor of the House Targaryen, the Second of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm (1)
Heir to the Iron Throne: Princess Gael Targaryen (2)

Small Council
Regent: Queen Dowager Aegelle Targaryen (3)
Hand of the King: Lord Lyman Lannister (4)
Master of Coin: Lord Dormund Darry (5)
Master of Laws: Lord Robar Baratheon (6)
Master of Ships: Ser Aenys Velaryon (7)
Grand Maester: Myres (8)
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Ser Gregor Goode

Lords Paramount
Lord of the North: In Rebellion (9)
Lord of the Reach: Lord Theo Tyrell (10)
Lord of the Stormlands: Lord Robar Baratheon
Lord of the Westerlands: Lord Lyman Lannister
Lord of the Riverlands: Lord Aegon Tully (11)
Lord of the Vale: Lord Hubert Arryn (12)
Lord of the Iron Islands: In Rebellion (13)

Dragons of the Court
Vhaegar, currently unbonded.
Ghost, bonded to Lady Elena Velaryon

Other People of Note
The High Septon (14)
Lady Argella Baratheon (15)

1. A boy of three namedays, who ascended to the throne following the death of his father in battle with Aemon the Mad. Notably the first Targaryen King not to have a dragon, due to the death of Balerion the Black Dread. ‘Little’ Maegor rules over a realm veering evermore into anarchy. Two other pretenders have risen to challenger his claim in Driftmark and Oldtown, spurring on a war that was thought won. Other parts of the realm seek to break away entirely from Targaryen rule; with the North, Iron Islands and parts of the Vale seeking to reclaim their lost crowns.
2. A former ‘wife’ of Aemon the Mad (though unwillingly) and the King’s elder half-sister. Simple-minded but gentle, she can often be found tending to her sibling in search of the comfort denied to her by her ‘husband’. She is pregnant with Aemon’s child, which has only not been aborted due to fears of harming the princess’s health.
3. The only surviving child of Rhaenys Targaryen and the mother of the infant king, Aegelle is a woman thought to be a dimwit by most lords and ladies of the court. In truth, she has never been particularly smart but has wised up somewhat after multiple tragedies. She was appointed as Maegor’s regent due to the belief of Lords Baratheon, Tyrell and Lannister that she would be easily controllable; though this has come into question with the cruel death she personally administered to Aemon the Mad.
4. The senior lord of Maegor’s faction, still searching for gains for his kingdom and house. Currently heading to battle King Viserys in the Reach.
5. Given the position as a reward for selling out Aemon during the Siege of King’s Landing. A man disliked by most, who only endures due to the lack of a strong Tully representative.
6. The son of Boros Baratheon and husband of Elena Velaryon, who has ascended to Lordship of the Stormlands following his father’s death by dragonfire.
7. Second son of the now traitorous Aethan Velaryon, Aenys has stayed with the court out of loyalty to the dead king and love for his sister Elena. Commands the Royal Fleet.
8. Dispatched from Oldtown a week before the crowning of Viserys ‘the Blessed’. An expert in the arts of warfare and alchemy, but a bit too fond of the Hightowers.
9. Benjen Stark has declared his kingdom’s succession from the Iron Throne, following the death of his father Torrhen and the urging of his lords. He does not yet plan to move south into the Riverlands, but has sent men to garrison Moat Cailin and envoys to the Ironborn.
10. Annoyed that his work has proven to be for nothing after the declaration of the Hightowers and the Redwynes for King Viserys. He keeps control over the remaining Reach only through the threat of dragons.
11. A boy of four namedays who has ascended to the Lord Paramountcy after the death of his father. Lord Axel Tully was killed during the Battle of Rosby by Ser Addison Hill (who was himself killed by Ser Rickard Blackwood who is now the regent for the boy lord).
12. A cousin of Ronnel and Jonos Arryn, who seeks to claim Lordship of the Eyrie with the assistance of the Royces and other Vale lords. Currently controls much of the south-eastern Vale, but has been promised aid by many other lords of the Vale.
13. With the fall of Aemon Targaryen, Lord Gowen Greyjoy has been forced to abandon pretence and declare himself King of the Iron Islands. He knows full well that any dragon could mean doom for his weak kingdom and so has frantically begun reaving in the Riverlands, praying that the Targaryens will destroy each other before the victor can focus on him.
14. A Targaryen lackey, who is used as a mouthpiece to discredit the militants of Oldtown.
15. Sister of Boros Baratheon and still unmarried at the age of three and twenty despite numerous offers.

Court of Rhaena ‘the Traitor’
Queen at Dragonstone: Rhaena of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and Rhoynar, Lady of the Five Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm (1)
King Consort: Aegon Velaryon (2)

Small Council (3)
Hand of the King: Lord Aethan Velaryon (4)
Master of Coin: Lord Jonos Arryn (5)
Master of Laws: Ser Hoster Bracken (6)
Master of Ships: Rhaegar Velaryon (7)
Grand Maester: Aenar (8)

Lords Paramount (9)
Lord of the North: N/A (10)
Lord of the Reach: In Rebellion
Lord of the Stormlands: In Rebellion (11)
Lord of the Westerlands: In Rebellion
Lord of the Riverlands: Lord Edwyn Bracken (12)
Lord of the Vale: Lord Jonos Arryn
Lord of the Iron Islands: N/A (13)

Dragons of the Court
Meraxes, bonded to Queen Rhaena (14)
Meleys (hatchling), currently unbonded

Other People of Note
Princess Deria Martell (15)

1. The only child of Aerion Targaryen and thereby granddaughter of Aegon the Conqueror, who declared herself queen with the support of several narrow sea houses following her taming of the dragon Meraxes. Her announcement was one of three hammer blows that struck the recovering kingdoms, but perhaps the most personal to House Targaryen themselves. House Velaryon has been split between supporting her or her cousin and even House Baratheon is no longer truly trusted by the court. Dragonstone has already fallen to her and Meraxes and now exists as an arrowhead pointed directly at King’s Landing.
2. Strangely powerless despite his new position and not at all happy with his sudden ascent to royalty. Aegon, despite his name is a curiously gentle man, who would like nothing more than to decline his crown and return to travelling the Seven Kingdoms and recording his travels. The voices of his wife, father and grandfather have outweighed his own however and so he now spends his time governing affairs on Dragonstone, while his relatives deals with the coming war. He does not yet have an heir.
3. Relatively powerless for the time being, but mostly convened in Driftmark at the moment.
4. An old and yet still power-hungry man, Aethan understands more than any other the dire straits that House Targaryen stands in. To that end he has cautioned patience to his new queen, for he well knows that inviting the forces of King’s Landing to focus on them would mean death in their present situation. But if the enemy dragons should die in the Reach…well…
5. Currently marching on Runestone in a desperate attempt to slay his cousin. A defector from Aemon the Mad, who has been accepted by the Rhaena faction in an attempt to destabilise Maegor II’s faction.
6. Has only secretly defected to Rhaena’s faction in revenge for a Blackwood being given the regency for Aegon Tully.
7. The son of Aethan and father of Aegon. Currently governing Driftmark.
8. A bastard of House Celtigar and Maester for Driftmark, who was ‘given’ the position by the queen due to the events in Oldtown.
9. Daena controls only part of the Vale, Crackclaw Point, Driftmark, Dragonstone and a few other scattered territories.
10. Accepted as an independent kingdom in the vain hope of an alliance between the two monarchs. Secretly Rhaena plans to reclaim the North once the other Targaryens are dealt with, a war that wills the destruction of House Stark.
11. Aethan plans to give them to a child of Elena and Robar whenever one is born.
12. Marching with the royalist Riverlords towards Moat Cailin, but plans to turn on them when the moment presents itself.
13. Same situation as the North.
14. Rhaenys, the last sister-wife of Aegon passed away in her sleep. Meraxes was quick to bond with her granddaughter.
15. Being contacted by Aethan in the hope of a Dornish attack on the Reach. Unbeknownst to anyone north of the Red Mountains, Deria has already begun marshalling her troops in preparation for something…

Court of Viserys ‘the Pious’
King at Oldtown: Viserys of the House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Faith (1)
Queen at Oldtown: Ceryse Hightower (2)

Small Council
Hand of the King: Lord Martyn Hightower (3)
Master of Coin: Ser Morgan Hightower (4)
Master of Laws: Lord Forrest Florent (5)
Master of Ships: Lord Mace Redwyne (6)
Grand Maester: Gormon (7)
The High Septon

Lords Paramount (8)
Lord of the North: In Rebellion
Lord of the Reach: N/A (9)
Lord of the Arborlands: Lord Mace Redwyne
Lord of Oldtown: Lord Martyn Hightower
Lord of the Stormlands: In Rebellion
Lord of the Westerlands: In Rebellion
Lord of the Riverlands: In Rebellion
Lord of the Vale: N/A (10)
Lord of the Iron Islands: In Rebellion

Dragons of the Court
Quicksilver, bonded to King Viserys (11)

Other People of Note
‘Rhaegar Storm’ (12)

1. The brother to Maegor I and uncle to his successor. Viserys did not originally intend to become a king and was in reality merely visiting Oldtown to pray at the Starry Sept. Just as he was leaving the sept however, the dragon Quicksilver (formerly belonging to Aenys I) appeared before him and the city residents to declare him its chosen bonded. With the influence of House Hightower, the Septons of Oldtown quickly proclaimed this a sign from the Seven announcing Viserys’ right to the throne. As he was a strongly pious man, the Targaryen did not argue and has therefore begun his own campaign in the south-western Reach. Many houses that were dissatisfied with their Tyrell rulers have joined him, destroying any hope of stability in the former Gardener realm.
2. Lord Martyn Hightower was quick to present his own maiden daughter, who he declared a ‘pious woman who had previously been planning to become a Septa before receiving a vision from the Mother calling her to perform great acts’. In fairness to him, Ceryse was the one to come up with that idea when word of Viserys’ unmarried status reached her ears.
3. An ambitious arsehole who holds the real power in the court of Oldtown. Despite that, his control over the new king is not perfect as shown by Viserys’ decision to split the Reach between those who have declared loyalty.
4. Lord Martyn’s brother and an active member of the Warrior’s Sons. He accepted this position in recognition of the king’s ‘Divine Right to Rule’.
5. An idiot who nearly got himself killed while pressing his own claim to Highgarden. Only given this post due to the presently small size of Viserys’ Kingdom.
6. Has not yet taken up his seat due to the threat of the rebelling Ironborn. His son Ryman currently acts in his stead as the loudest non-Hightower voice on the small council.
7. A Hightower sap, elected to the position after Lord Martyn’s ‘suggestion’.
8. Viserys’ plans for much of Westeros are unknown at the time being, though he has promised the destruction of the Ironborn as a people. It is to be expected that the Northmen will suffer the same fate if they refuse to convert.
9. The Reach is planned to be split into at least three separate kingdoms, a strategy that might be applied to the others as well when the time comes.
10. Viserys does not currently recognise either of the claimants for the Eyrie.
11. The third largest of the currently surviving dragons, after Meraxes and Vhaegar. Often known as the Warrior’s dragon, due to his beautiful golden hide.
12. Secretly Daemon ‘Pot’ Waters in disguise, who fled King’s Landing just prior to its capture. Has enrolled in the Warrior’s sons in the hope of making a living for himself.

Targaryen Claimants

Court of Aegon II ‘the Bastard’

King on the Iron Throne: Aegon of the House Targaryen, the Second of His Name, King of the Three Kingdoms, Lord of the Blackwater and Protector of the Realm (1)

Small Council

Regent: Princess Gael Targaryen (2)

Hand of the King: Lady Argella Baratheon (3)

Master of Coin: Lord Dormund Darry (4)

Master of Laws: Lord Podrick Tyrell (5)

Master of Ships: Ser Davos Storm (6)

Grand Maester: Myres (7)

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Ser Hugor Swann (8)

Lords Paramount (9)

Lord of the Stormlands: Lady Argella Baratheon

Lord of the Northmarch: Lord Dormund Darry

Lord of the Westmarch: Lord Podrick Tyrell

Dragons of the Court

Meleys (hatchling), currently unbonded (10)

Other Important People

Queen Dowager Aegelle Targaryen (11)

1. The son of Aemon the Mad by Gael Targaryen and a child of dubious legitimacy. He was ascended to the throne following the sudden death of Maegor II (to illness?) in realisation that there were no other male candidates to the throne currently alive. This move came at a cost however, for the Lords Lannister and Arryn refused to recognise the child and so joined the Starks and Greyjoys in rebellion. The resulting war was a catastrophe for House Targaryen, reducing their once great dominion to only the Crownlands, Stormlands and parts of the Reach and Riverlands. In truth, they nearly lost what remained – only being spared by the Starks, Lannister, Arryns, Greyjoys, Hightowers and Martells wearing each other out.
2. More or less a puppet for the Hand of the King.
3. Lady Argella succeeded to the lordship of Storm’s End following the deaths of her nephew and goodniece in the Reach. Surprisingly she has proven herself a great general by driving back the Dornish advance into the Stormlands; a victory which has granted her effective control over the Three Kingdoms in absence of a strong king.
4. The second most powerful person in the realm, who rules what remains of the Targaryen Riverlands. House Tully was wiped out by the Lannisters during their conquest of the Red Fork.
5. A much diminished man, who rules the tattered remnants of his realm from the castle of Longtable, House Merryweather having been wiped out for resisting the Targaryen advance.
6. A lowborn of Dragonstone.
7. Attempting to establish a second order of Maesters in opposition to those of Oldtown.
8. Promoted with the support of Lady Baratheon.
9. The remaining territories have been divided into four parts. The Stormlands are by far the biggest, which has already begun to be an issue to Targaryen control.
10. The last dragon in Westeros proper. Vhaegar, the former dragon of Queen Visenya and Princess Vaella is currently stalking the Stepstones as a wild dragon. Though thankfully, Vhaegar took out Meraxes on it's way out.
11. The only surviving child of Aegon Targaryen. Has descended into insanity following the death of…pretty much everyone else and so stalks the Aegonfort, shrieking at phantoms and the ghosts of the long dead.

Court of Rhaena ‘the Traitor’ (In Exile)

‘Queen in Volantis’: Rhaena of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm (1)

King Consort: Borroro Maegyr (2)

Heir: Aegon Targaryen (3)

Betrothed of Aegon Targaryen: Larra Maegyr (4)

Small Council (5)

Hand of the Queen: Lord Rhaegar Velaryon (6)

1. Rhaena was forced to flee after the death of her only allied dragon thanks to Vhaegar and so has taken the remnants of House Velaryon and a few servants to seek refuge in Volantis. There she quickly became a puppet of the wealthy Maegyr family, who see the potential for profit by exploiting her claim on a fallen kingdom.
2. The patriarch of House Maegyr and a notorious womaniser. While he is twice Rhaena’s age she has been forced to accept his advances or else face eviction from the Black Walls. Rhaena is his third wife.
3. The son of Rhaena and her former husband Aegon Velaryon. A boy of two namedays who is coincidently almost identical to the son of Aemon the Mad…
4. The three and ten daughter of Borroro and his second wife. A rather haughty sort, obsessed currently with the tales from over the sea. Also fairly naïve.
5. Not much of a council anymore since most members are either dead or defected.
6. The Queen’s former goodfather and the last of House Velaryon. A morose man who has finally realised the cost of his actions. Borroro has invited him to take a Volantine as a second wife, but Rhaegar shows more interest in mourning what has already been lost.

The Other Realms of Westeros

The Kingdom of the North and Rivers

King at Winterfell: Benjen of the House Stark, King of the North and Riverlands, Lord of Winterfell and Favoured of the Gods (1)

Queen at Winterfell: Alys Karstark

Heir: Brandon Stark (2)

Other Lords of Note for the North

Lord Sylvaster Mallister, Defender of the Trident (3)

The Kingdom of the Vale

King in the Eyrie: Hubert of the House Arryn, King of the Vale, Lord of the Eyrie and Defender of the Faith (4)

Queen in the Eyrie: Mya Royce (5)

Other Lords of Note for the Vale

Hand of the King: Lord Jon Royce (6)

The Iron Kingdom

Lodos, Son of the Drowned God (7)

The Kingdom of the Rock

King of the Westerlands: Lyman the Magnificent of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, King of the Westerlands, the Rivers and the Reach, Protector of the True Faith, Defender of the Realm (8)

Queen of the Westerlands: Jocasta Lannister

Other Lords of Note for the Westerlands

Warden of the North: Lord Edwyn Bracken (9)

Warden of the South: Lord Gregor Crakehall (10)

The Domain of the Seven

King of the Reach: Martyn of the House Hightower, Defender of the Faith, King of the Reach and Lord of Oldtown (11)

Heir: Ser Otto Hightower (12)

Other Lords of Note for the Reach

Lord Mace Redwyne (13)

Greater Dorne

Princess of Dorne: Deria Martell (14)

Prince of Dorne: Edgar Yronwood

Heir: Qoren Martell (15)

Other Lords of Note for Dorne

Lord Franklyn Yronwood (16)

1. Often called ‘the Great’ in his homeland, Benjen Stark was the first of the surviving kings to declare his independence from the Iron Throne. With House Targaryen in shambles there was little to stop him and so with surprising speed any loyalist elements were routed out of the North. When news came of the last dragons dying in the Reach, Benjen’s army was already on the march. The Twins fell with ease, as did much of the Northern Riverlands before Benjen’s ambitions were finally halted by the armies of King Lyman Lannister. Despite this disappointment, the North stands proud of what they have accomplished and of the King who brought them it.
2. A boy of five and ten namedays. Currently betrothed to Lady Lysa Manderly.
3. Defected to the North both to protect Seaguard and in disgust over the betrayal of Houses Darry and Bracken. Quickly proved his worth in the battles against the Lannister and Targaryen armies seeking to put an end to House Stark’s expansion.
4. Ascended to the throne after his cousin Jonos was thrown screaming through the Moon Door by his own men. A relative unknown to the Vale (excluding the Royces) who has yet to gain much respect from his lords.
5. Married by Hubert to reward House Royce’s constant loyalty. The two of them are a happy, though untested couple.
6. Mya’s father. A very happy man who didn’t particularly like the Targaryens in the first place, your Grace.
7. The ruler of the current theocracy in the Iron Islands, dedicated to resisting the Lannister advance. Not actually the original Lodos…probably.
8. An immensely happy man, who has lived to see his kingdom fall during the Conquest, only to rise again greater than before. Currently dealing with the Ironborn and so has arranged a defensive truce between his kingdom and Greater Dorne. Revered by his subjects almost as a god.
9. Defected to the Lannisters after the Fall of Rhaena, claiming that he was on their side all along. Gleeful at having successfully destroyed House Blackwood, aside from a few members hiding out in the Targaryen Kingdom. But they can’t be a threat anymore, surely…
10. Given the captured areas of the Reach to govern as a reward for his loyal service to King Lyman.
11. Upset that his plans to seat Viserys I on the Iron Throne have failed after the Battle of Cider Hall. Angry that much of the Reach is now ruled by other Kingdoms who don’t even have dragons. Terrified of the slow Dornish advance into his kingdom.
12. A great knight but a bit of a clod really.
13. In negotiation with Princess Deria Martell over the rewards for defecting now, rather than being conquered later.
14. Currently pregnant with her second child. Has been accused of poisoning Maegor II, but claims otherwise as she was dining at Yronwood during the King’s unfortunate death.
15. A sickly man who is not likely to live to forty.
16. Pleased at the numerous rewards handed out to his house. Who would have known that arranging his son’s marriage to a Martell would work out so well?

Chapter Text

If Grey focused hard enough, it could hear the sound of fighting coming from the training yard even here in the heart of Winterfell. The clashing of blades and shields sent it’s heart racing, even as it focused on the needlework given out by the Septa. The art of sewing came easily to this body thankfully, for the elder girl took more after the Mother-of-Most than she did the Father-of-All. This allowed Grey to sit back and ponder, though it spared a thread of sympathy for Green who did not have that same privilege. The younger girl apparently took after the pack’s aunt, which was causing Grey’s sibling a great deal of trouble. The Septa had harrumphed at it’s work, but her frown had disappeared upon turning to Grey.

“Oh Sansa” she exclaimed; “Such beautiful work once again. Winter roses, I assume?”

“Yes Septa Mordane” Grey replied, it’s face creeping into a smile; even though the same praise would have been given to any sibling inhabiting this body. It frowned however when the Septa turned to Green, knowing well what was about to happen. The same criticism had happened to it when it was inhabiting the younger girl, after all.

“Why can’t you be more like your sister, Arya?” Mordane spat; “She manages to sew beautifully without fail, while your stitches are constantly crude at best! You must try harder!”

Green looked ready to throw a tantrum in response. Though it was no Black in its behaviour, Grey’s sibling did not handle anger well and would cause trouble if not prevented by one of it’s superiors. Red could manage it of course, as could Grey himself - but it feared that as Green gained more strength in the pack it would lose it’s position as third. More and more it was forced to rely on coercion rather than control, in ways that reminded it of early dealings with Black when it had entered the pack.

Still, it was not too bad a situation as of yet. With Septa Mordane distracted, Grey allowed its eyes to roll backwards to allow for silent communication. When one of the pack utilised their connection in this way, only other siblings would be able to ‘hear’ them. Through this they were able to defy sleep and distance as a pack and discuss private matters without unfriendly ears listening.

There was an issue with understanding the messages however.

Once in the state, Grey focused on reaching Green. ‘Do-does want to swap-switch?’ it thought; ‘Nod if yes-true.’

Green nodded.

‘We’ll-us’ll change when Septa distracted. Be ready-done.’

Green nodded again. With the Septa focusing on it, Green was unable to access it’s own warging powers. Grey could do the transfer on its own admittedly, but that was difficult and painful for both of them. And since the pack did not wish to harm each other, Red had ordered it to be used only on the White when it rarely managed to force it’s way into a body. This had been commanded after a time when Blue and Black had been arguing constantly and so started forcing their way into each other’s bodies without invitation. Black had usually won, but the turmoil had strained the whole pack and angered Red enough for them both to be confined to the youngest boy and younger girl for a month. None of them enjoyed being in the little bodies at all, but as Red said it was necessary to please Mother-of-Most and Father-of-All.

Before the Septa could be sufficiently distracted however, Grey heard another of it’s siblings speak through the connection. ‘I-me would like-want to swap too; Mother-of-Most is being-is vexing.’ It was Blue, who had spent the morning as the youngest boy. This was commonplace for it, due to it’s failure to speak up for itself compared to the rest of them. For it to be willing to speak now was unusual and spoke of the difficulty of the situation; Grey felt a resulting pang of sadness for its other sibling.

Green frowned and risked the Septa’s suspicion by accessing the connection itself. ‘You can’t-can’t be the elder girl-girl! I want to be-be the elder!’

‘Well you two-both can’t both be the elder and Green did ask-agree first’ Grey pointed out. The pack had tried several times to share a body - just to see what would happen - and especially in the case of Black’s private try three years ago, the consequences had been severe. Instinctively Grey sent his spirit out towards the White; he was thankful to note that it seemed peaceful for the time being.

‘Then I-me’ll be the younger girl’ said Blue; ‘Grey can swap-switch into the youngest boy.’

‘Yes-yes! Grey can be him and you can join-join me at needlework!’ Green cried in excitement.

Grey inwardly groaned in response. It didn’t want to inhabit the youngest boy, since that meant dealing with the currently pregnant Mother-of-Most. While he loved the woman - as all his siblings did - that did not mean that he could manage her behaviour in her current state. Both her and Father-of-All had been driven to obsession over the new baby, since neither wanted a repeat of the last time. The pack didn’t want that either of course, but unlike the adults they were aware of the true cause behind the miscarriage. This meant their collective patience was often strained, especially the unlucky sibling who was delegated to inhabit baby Brandon.

Still, Grey disliked the idea of disappointing it’s siblings. It remembered all too much the feeling of loneliness from…some previous time, back when there had been fewer siblings. Grey, like several of it’s siblings was quietly aware that it did have an original body; though again like his siblings it was unsure of which was it’s original. Was it the eldest son or the middle son? Was it the older daughter or younger daughter? It’s memories didn’t provide an answer, for after so long in the pack all of them had shared their knowledge into one cohesive whole. For instance, it remembered being born as Brandon Stark. It also remembered watching Brandon being born.

Grey did suspect however, that it was one of the ‘elder’ siblings. It couldn’t remember a time before the arrival of Red and Blue, but it could remember life before the emergence of Black, Green and the White. It supposed that made it the third child of it’s parents then, Sansa. It enjoyed being the older girl well enough, so that made enough sense to Grey’s shattered existence. It also knew the White was the youngest of ‘them’, though it wasn’t sure that the unborn member of their pack counted as a Stark.

When the Septa left the room to fetch something, Green instantly seized upon it’s chance. As one the Starks rolled back their eyes and as Grey drifted out of the older daughter on a breeze, it didn’t bother to resist.

She could be herself later.

Chapter Text

20 Kings and 1

Catastrophe!

There is no better word to describe the state of Westeros in 307AC, other than perhaps godforsaken. With the Long Night halted and the Others defeated, many of the realm’s citizens prayed that this would mean an end to the wars that had been consuming the continent for half a decade. They prayed that a suitable ruler, whether Targaryen, Baratheon or even Lannister would take command of the Iron Throne and bring back the King’s Peace.

They were doomed to be disappointed.

There are no great monarchs 307 years after Aegon’s Conquest. There are great men to be sure, some of whom have dared to claim a royal title for themselves – but what is a king without a sure kingdom? Westeros has fallen; now only the crows remain!

Chapter Text

Rhaegar: The boy is a bastard-

Eddard: So this entire war did start because you raped my sister!

Rhaegar: No, I married Lyanna.

Eddard:...But you just said the boy was a bastard.

Rhaegar: I did.

Eddard: Then how can he be a bastard?

Rhaegar: Because he was born out of wedlock.

Eddard: But that doesn’t make any sense! What about the girl then?

Rhaegar: She’s trueborn.

Eddard: What? How?!

Rhaegar: Because I married Lyanna to get my trueborn daughter.

Eddard: How can the boy be a bastard and the girl...not be a bastard?

Rhaegar: Because I married Lyanna.

Eddard: That doesn’t explain anything!

Rhaegar: Yes it does. The boy was born out of wedlock and is therefore a bastard. The girl was born in wedlock so therefore isn’t.

Eddard: BUT THEY’RE TWINS! How could one be born in the marriage bed and the other not be?!

Rhaegar: Because I-

Eddard: And don’t say you married or divorced Lyanna halfway through the pregnancy! You were nowhere near the Tower of Rape!

Rhaegar: I only married her to get the girl and had no intention to get her pregnant with twins. Therefore the boy wasn’t born of our union and is a bastard.

Eddard:...But that makes no sense!

Rhaegar: It really does.

Eddard: You still gave him a Targaryen name.

Rhaegar: Well of course! The poor bastard doesn’t deserve to be saddled with the name of a northern savage.

Eddard: His mother was a ‘Northern savage’!!!

Rhaegar: No, his mother was Lady Lyanna.

Eddard: Who. Was. NORTHERN!

Rhaegar: No, she was from Harrenhal.

Eddard: Oh Gods smite me now...

Jon Umber: Your Grace My Lord, you must conceive a heir before you lead this army south! If the Lannister pussies manage to defeat us, who knows what could happen?!

Robb Stark: I couldn't agree more. See you in a minute.

Rickard Karstark:...I have a daught-oh, he's already gone. Dammit.

Chapter Text

Jon and the Targaryens

As Jon Snow, son of Eddard, son of none bled out in the dirt, he could just faintly hear the sound of mocking laughter from elsewhere. A man was laughing with glee, as other moaned in annoyance and regret. A woman was screaming, while another cackled in a high and cruel voice. And something roared…something vast and awful.

Were these the voices of his former allies? The Others breaking through the Wall? Val come to comfort him? Arya?

The snow fell.

…well shit. Reboot time!

“Heya kid!” cried a voice; “How ya doing?”

In shock at hearing the sudden noise, Aegon tripped and took a tumble off the battlements. He did not survive.

…what about second Reboot?

Vaes Dothrak still smelt of horseshit. This was not a surprise to Daenerys, nor was the fact Khal Jhaqo quickly separated her from the other captives and left her tied in a tent. She knew the purpose he desired her for, the only surprise was that he hadn’t tried carrying it out yet – maybe he wanted the Dosh Khaleen to give him permission first.

She refused to be afraid. She had been through all this before and refused to do so again; the moment Drogon appeared would be the Doom come again for the horselords. And then she would return to Meereen and cast down her judgment on the traitors who had conspired to kill her. All of them.

“Burn them all.”

Yes, that is what she would do.

“Burn them all!”

Yes, that.

“BURN THEM-“

“Who keeps saying that?” Daenerys muttered, turning her head left and right as far as the slave collar would allow.

“I say it” snarled a man’s voice, crooked and bestial with madness; “I Aerys, command that you burn them all! Sunder these degenerates under your dragon; then go to Westeros and burn the traitorous houses!”

“My father is dead!” Daenerys spat; “Where are you liar? Who are you to know the common tongue here in the wastelands?!”

“I am your father-“ began the voice.

“Liar!” cried Daenerys; “You must be a Dothraki playing a trick on me.”

“What does a Dothraki know of Westeros, daughter?” spat the man pretending to be Aerys; “What does a horselord know of dragons – nothing, that’s what! Go to Westeros! I am the King! Go to Westeros and BURN IT ALL! BURN IT ALL!!!”

Before Daenerys could say a word in response, another voice intruded on their conversation. A female voice, soft as the dawn’s light.

“Aerys, darling; you’re going to give the poor girl ear strain.”

There was the sound of a loud whack; followed by that of a body hitting the floor.

“Ah…so, so satisfying. Visenya really was right” said the woman’s voice; “And to think I was actually afraid of that idiot.”

“Hello?” Daenerys asked; “Who are you? And who – actually – was here?”

“Oh I’m your mother sweetie” said the voice cheerfully; “Rhaella Targaryen, but you can call me Rhae if you want to – I know you youngsters like to be all ‘cool’ and ‘independent’; Rhaegar was the same. And it’s nice to be informal after a lifetime of state dinners and grand balls – and grand tournaments. Ehh…”

“My mother is dead!” Daenerys cried; “Both my parents are, as is my brother, as is everyone else related to me! Now stop pretending and get ‘Burn it all’ to stop fucking doing it as well!”

“Daenerys, language” Rhaella reprimanded; “Visenya didn’t raise you to have the mouth of a common sailor, even with the voices of his ancestors rattling around in her head. Such a poor girl.”

Daenerys blinked. “My ancestors were doing what in his head?”

“Her head sweetie” Rhaella replied; “Now as I was saying, every head of House Targaryen since the time of the Doom has been able to contact the voices of their ancestors. It’s quite common in Westeros really; the Starks are able to do the same thing, as are the Baratheons, Greyjoys and Lovegoods I believe.”

“That sounds ridiculous” Daenerys replied.

“Oh yes.” She could imagine the voice’s eyes twinkling in mirth. “It really is, though I like to think of it as a comforting presence when you most need it. Or a helping hand, provided you don’t listen to the more insane members of our family.”

“Like who?”

It took Daenerys a few minutes to find a suitable plank to knock herself out on; as per her mother’s instructions for ‘achieving contact with the spirit realm’. Part of her still suspected that this was a trick, but the joy of hearing her mother’s voice – her mother’s voice – had convinced her to at least give this a shot. And besides which, Khal Jhaqo was probably too vain to do anything while she was unconscious.

Thankfully the headache inflicted via plank didn’t carry over into her unconsciousness. She opened her eyes to find herself in the throne room of a tall red palace, though the throne itself had been replaced with a large window showing the tent she had been tied up in. And her body was visible through the glass! If she didn’t know better she would have assumed that it was some sort of doppelganger which had been moved there to replace her.

She only had one thing to say at the sight. “I look good!” Daenerys smirked; “A little dirty true…but my hair’s properly regrown, my eyes are gorgeous as always and I definitely haven’t put on any weight from that pregnancy. Mwoooahhh!”

A man’s voice came from behind her. “Is this a common reaction?”

Rhaella’s voice replied “I wouldn’t know, uncle. I’ve only seen one Targaryen aside from her move between realms and Viserys had more pressing concerns.”

“Indeed” said the man.

Finished ‘admiring’ herself, Daenerys turned around and spied the two people standing before her…as well as a large lump that had hastily been covered over with part of a carpet. One of them was the woman she could only assume to be her mother; a gorgeous middle-aged matron in an odd multi-coloured dress with her long silver hair tied back in beads and a thousand separate ponytails. The other was a taller and plainer man, who bore a silver chain around the collar of his black robes.

“Daenerys!” cried Rhaella; “Allow me to introduce your great-great-uncle Aemon, who joined us only a few months ago.”

Unsure of how to behave, Daenerys curtsied. Aemon smiled.

“There’s no need to show respect here, niece” he said; “We are all equal in the Seven Heavens…despite what some people may claim.” He chuckled, only to stop as a cloud hung over his face. “Can I just say how…how sorry I am that you and your sister had to go through everything that you did over the years. If not for my Maester’s vows I would have come to help you, or at least sent aid; but because of them I felt that I had to stay at my post on the Wall.”

Daenerys frowned. “Wouldn’t it have been possible to send one letter? I assumed…I believed that I and my brother-“

“Sister” cut in the other two.

“-sister were the only Targs – wait, why are you insisting that Viserys is female?”

Rhaella smiled gently. “She decided to transition upon finding her way up here. Don’t worry, she’s still your sibling.”

“Okay…” Daenerys replied; “I didn’t know that he – uh, she wanted to…”

“Oh, none of us did.” Rhaella said cheerfully; “Rhaegar and my father claim otherwise, but they are clearly fibbing.”

“Your father?”

“Jaehaerys the Second” Rhaella frowned; “You’ll meet him later with everyone else. Make sure to ignore anything he says.”

“Talking of which” Aemon said; “Perhaps we should speed this along before Daenerys wakes up.”

“An excellent point!” Rhaella cried. She snapped her fingers –

- and instantly regretted doing so.

Daenerys screamed.

The two women and three men sat around a table did likewise, though in the case of one of the women it was more akin to a battlecry than an expression of shock. But Daenerys wasn’t screaming at them. She was screeching at the thing that had been under the carpet!

It had the general shape of a man, but that was where the similarities ended. Everything about it was warped and stretched, particularly the nails which had grown into horrific yellow talons. The creature’s skin was winkled and scarred, and in places blackened and flaky. It worryingly reminded her of dragon scales.

The worst part was the face however, for that was shaped into a cruel and toothy grin. If this thing had been awake, she could only imagine the malice that it would desire.

“What. Is. That?” she said, backing away slowly towards another corner, where a confused black-haired and black-clothed man was huddled staring at everything with wide eyes. “What the actual fuck-“

“That? Oh that’s Rhaegar.” yapped the youngest of the men at the table, a teenager with strange piercing eyes; “Don’t you recognise your own brother?”

Daenerys froze.

“Aegon the Second!” barked the eldest of the men; “How dare you, lying in front of our guest! Apologise this instant!”

“I’m sorry…” muttered Aegon.

Daenerys wasn’t listening. “That’s Rhaegar?” she whisper-screamed.

Rhaella wrapped her in an embrace. “No dearie” she said in as comforting a tone as possible; “That’s…your...…father.”

Daenerys fainted.

She awoke to a slap.

“Gahh!” Daenerys yelped; “What the actual shit?!”

“If you go unconscious in the dream, you go unconscious in real life!” exclaimed the more violent-looking woman, a beauty who was crouched over Daenerys readying another punch.

“I’m already unconscious!” Daenerys yelled, pulling herself off the floor.

“Not like that idiot…you would fall into a vegetable state!” the warrior-woman said; “No one would be able to wake you and so you would waste away.”

“Vegative state Daena” muttered the eldest man; “Not a ‘Vegetable State’”

“They’re the same damn thing Jaehaerys!” she shouted.

“And I wondered why people call Targaryens mad” muttered Aemon. He took Daenerys by the arm, leading her over to a table where her mother, Aegon and another man and woman were sitting. Daena the Defiant and Jaehaerys the Conciliator continued to screech at each other in the background. Aerys – the thing had been removed.

“Daenerys” smiled her mother; “Take a cup of wine, it will make you feel better.”

It did. Now she was focused, she could take in the room her mother had teleported them to. It was a cross between a dining room, a kitchen and a balcony; overlooking a gigantic shining city that stretched away as far as the eye could see. Parts of it seemed to resemble Braavos with canals and great statues, but others reminded Daenerys of Pentos, Vaes Dothrak and Meereen. One of the most striking sights was a collection of mighty towers, that reminded her of the legends of Old Valyria.

“Now then” she said; “Allow me to introduce Aenys and Rhaenyra. You’ve already met Aegon the Second – don’t worry, he’s sworn to behave himself from now on.”

Looking around at her ancestors, a question sprung to Daenerys’ mind.

“Why do you all look so young?” she asked; “I mean, no offense but you two look the same age as me.” She pointed at Rhaenyra and Aegon. “And you look like a ten and four year old!” She pointed at Aenys.

“We each appear at the age we were happiest” replied Aenys; “I appear as I was prior to my health problems truly engaging themselves. Rhaenyra and Aegon appear as they did prior to the true establishment of hostilities between their courts.”

“Are all Targaryens here then?” Daenerys asked; “Because…uh, no offence but you never sat on the Iron Throne.” She pointed at Rhaenyra.

“None taken” said the gorgeous teenager; “Aegon and I made up centuries ago, thanks to my new husband and psychiatrist.”

“He truly is most insightful” Aegon agreed; “No one could understand this family better.”

“...I take it you don't mean the Rogue Prince?” Daenerys asked.

“Oh goodness no!” Rhaenyra laughed; “He and I fell out years ago. I mean Theon Stark.”

“Theon who?!” Daenerys spat out her wine and stared.

“Theon Stark, ‘the Hungry Wolf’. Surely you‘ve heard of him?” The teenage girl seemed remarkably unconcerned to have the wrath of a dragon queen directed at her, judging by how she managed her wine.

“But he’s a Stark!” Daenerys yelped; “THEY MURDERED MY BROTHER!”

“Rhaegar died on the battlefield” Aemon softly replied; “Whatever you can say about the Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon, they did not give him a poor death – or a shameful one.”

“Besides which…” Daena sung as she slid into a chair; “The Starks aren’t that bad. Theon’s awesome!”

She paused, during which there was a distant scream and a cry of “FUCK YOU ANDAL! TAKE THIS!!!”

“Love him” she kissed the air; “Cregan’s kinda cool, Rodrick and Brandon are good for a laugh and the most recent’s already made himself at home over with Daeron.” She pointed at another corner of the room, where two young men were sat around a Cryvasse board practically on each other’s laps. The red haired one waved in response to Daenerys’ glare. “You’ll want to ask those two when planning your future invasion of Westeros.”

“Ask?”

“Well of course” smiled Rhaella; “What are we here for except giving advice? Just be sure to avoid the more insane relatives and your struggles will turn out right as rain!”

“About these more insane ones…” Daenerys began. She had a question that needed answering.

“Your father is among them” Aenys said; “I have hopes that he will not always be among them as I have sensed slow improvement; but for the time being I would not listen to him.”

“So is your brother” Rhaenyra stated; “And grandfather for that matter. And Aerys I! Prophecy mad weirdos should be thrown in a bin and set on fire in my opinion.”

“Aegon IV, Baelor, Aerion Brightflame, Bittersteel and most of the Blackfyres should also be avoided” informed Jaeherys; “Some are insane, some are cruel and some just hate either House Targaryen or everything in general.”

Aegon coughed something that sounded mysteriously like ‘the Unworthy’.

“Everyone around this table can be trusted” said Rhaella; “As can the boys in the corner, Aegon I and his wives-“

“Where actually is Visenya?” Daena exclaimed; “Didn’t she say she wanted to be here?”

“She’s busy fighting in the Dornish section of the afterlife” Aenys replied; “She’ll be back once she gets bored.”

“As I was saying” Rhaella smiled; “Viserys II is also a good advisor you’ll want to talk to, as is Maekar.”

“I would have suggested Aegon III” began Aemon; “But I am afraid he doesn’t like you for…personal reasons.”

Daenerys had only partly absorbed all this information. She was still taking in the idea that she could contact any member of her family – and have them reply – at any time!

“Westeros doesn’t stand a chance!” she cried; “Mwahahahahahaha! Fire and Blood!!!”

“Oh Gods, not another Aerys” Jaeherys muttered; "As if we needed two."

There were no survivors.

"AHHHHHH!!!" screamed Rhaegar, who was tied to a chair in an increasingly terryfing dungeon.

"Why are you so scared, dearest" crooned Lyanna; "Didn't you say you loved prophecy?"

She held up a cheesegrater.

"Well my prophecy is that this-" She moved forwards. "This is going to hurt!"

Chapter Text

A Game of Warlords (An AU Season 5 Ruler Game at WW2 tech levels)

Much has changed in Westeros this season for all factions of the Game: Dragonstone, Harrenhal, Wintertown and Oldtown alike. From the opening plays of Myrcella Baratheon, to the final cataclysmic attack on Sunspear - this map shall unveil all the warlords yet to meet a sticky end.

Remember! Only one can rule!

“Though our grip on Westeros may have slackened; my lords I promise this to you! We shall return to King’s Landing and cast out the usurpers! We shall erect our banners once more in every corner of the realm! The Seven Kingdoms shall be reunited and we shall be the ones to do it! That is my promise to you, my Lords. Who shall now stand with me?” - Rhaegar Targaryen

Led by the noble but flawed Rhaegar Targaryen, this clique consists of an assortment of islands, ports and peninsulas across the Narrow Sea. Militarily, the Dragonstone Clique has Westeros' second largest navy and a small, though elite and well-armed army. This season has seen them struggle against many other factions, but the tide may have begun to turn with the emerging divisions in the Storm’s End Clique and the successful sack of Sunspear, conquered to the oppressive recording of Rhaegar’s Sonata for a new age.

The Players: Emperor Rhaegar Targaryen

Notionally Rhaegar Targaryen is the heir to the Westerosi monarchy; following in the footsteps of his deceased father Aerys. However, he is progressive-minded and not entirely committed to Westerosi federalism; perhaps as a result of seeing his father’s descent first hand. Even more alarmingly for traditionalists, he has expressed support for a constitutional monarchy and an elected government modelled on that of the Summer Empire. His ideas are popular in Essos however, which has brought him support from the Three Daughters and Pentos.

The Players: Queen Lyanna Targaryen

The second of Rhaegar’s three wives, former betrothed of Robert Baratheon and disowned daughter of Rickard Stark; Lyanna is perhaps the most controversial figure in Westeros due to her decision (15 years prior to the first season) to abandon the traditional responsibilities of a eldest daughter without what many would consider good cause. Her supporters and children will if pressed admit to her naivety. Her enemies will name her woefully ignorant and point that no little part of the current Targaryen reputation rests at her feet.

The Players: Prince-Apparent Viserys Targaryen

In contrast to Rhaegar, his younger brother is more of an old-school absolutist in regards to the power of the monarch. Viserys has seen the collapse of his family’s hold on Westeros and the weakness of his brother – and he resents both. Why else would he be in conference with Margaery Tyrell, member of the Highgarden Clique and known traitor (as we learnt in episode 8 of this season)?

The Players: Princess Daenerys Targaryen

Caught in Essos during the outbreak of the Latter-Days War, Daenerys has only recently returned home to her birthplace of Dragonstone. She has been notably affected by her experiences in the east and now wishes for the Clique to disregard Westeros entirely and end slavery there (a highly difficult prospect).

The Players: Prince-Apparent Aegon Targaryen

Aegon was an able commander, though not a remarkable one. He was however the most skilled of anyone in his family with the gun and well-loved by all - which made his death in episode 9 even harder to watch.

The Players: Prince-Apparent Daeron Targaryen

The youngest of Rhaegar’s two sons, an arrogant boy who loves to party and has never commanded an army in his life. Arguably useless.

The Players: Princess Daena Targaryen

Daena is known to the many as an elite pilot, air ace, and all-round badass. To those that know her directly however, she is a strongly studious girl who is driven to constantly improve; often by examining her previous kills and aerial duels in. Many would describe her as having her father's brains, but her mother's love for the duel.

The Players: Princess Rhaenys Targaryen

Rhaenys Targaryen is the equal of her twin in nearly every way. A commander on land (rather than in the sky) who’s plans against the opponents of the Targaryen regime promised to bring destruction down upon those enemies. And indeed they mostly did, for it was Rhaenys’ ideas that ensured the capture of Sunspear. However, due to an unknown traitor in the Dragonstone Clique her plans against the Storm’s End clique were leaked to the enemy – and so in episode 9 her army was crushed and her brother Aegon killed at the hands of Shireen Baratheon herself.

“Stannis Baratheon controls half the realm through fear and fury; but none of his subjects love him. If they loved us...perhaps his kingdom would prove weaker.” - Myrcella Baratheon to Edmure Tully.

At the end of this season, Stannis Baratheon stands triumphant over all his foes in the Latter-Days War. Under his leadership the Storm's End Clique has crushed the Casterly Clique in the Anti-Casterly War; along with the Tyrells who were forced to cede everything north of the Mander and the area around Brightwater. In addition, the Storm's End Clique still controls Westeros' notional government at King's Landing. The Storm's End Clique is actually a coalition of two cliques; one led by Orton Merryweather, master of the Northern Reach and the conquered Westerlands with the other being led by Stannis Baratheon, master of the Stormlands and Crownlands.

The Players: Emperor Stannis Baratheon

The self-declared Emperor of Westeros, who followed in his brother Robert’s footsteps by going to war with House Targaryen in an attempt to avenge the murder of Steffon Baratheon at the hands of Aerys the Mad. So far Stannis’ assault on the Targaryen position appears to be going much better, since he chose to move at the optimum time – namely, when the Lannisters and Tyrells were already rebelling to avenge past slights. This rise was disguised at first as a simple response to Emperor Rhaegar’s call, which only turned into full rebellion after ‘Duke’ Stannis was in control of the Crownlands and ready to snuff out Targaryen resistance. In that he has failed however, for much of the Targaryen family survived on Dragonstone and could yet pose a threat…

The Players: Princess-Apparent Shireen Baratheon

The only child of Stannis and the chief rival for Myrcella Baratheon and Rhaenys Targaryen. Shireen is considered a great beauty of the realm, but also one of the cleverest young ladies of noble blood – as we saw through her defeat of the Targaryen landing at Massay’s Hook.

The Players: President Renly Baratheon

The President of the Republic of Westeros, appointed by his brother in acknowledgment of his own lack of charisma. Renly is a most affable sort, but just as ambitious as anyone else in the game – is he truly satisfied living under his brother and niece’s rule?

The Players: Baron Davos Seasworth

The foremost admiral in Stannis’ navy and perhaps all of Westeros (much to the chagrin of the Velaryons). Davos Seasworth began his life as a mere commoner, but was promoted to the aristocracy by Robert Baratheon due to his aid in the early rebellion. Stannis has further promoted the man due to his competence, as well as their strong friendship – and as well as the strong ‘friendship’ between Davos’ son and Princess Shireen.

The Players: Duke Orton Merryweather

An ugly snake of a man, who was only invited to Stannis’ side since the King knew his ambition knew no bounds and he was in an ideal place to cause maximum havoc in the lands of the Reach. Currently controls the Westerlands, though this is unlikely to be in perpetuity due to the hatred all his vassals have against him.

“Our alliance is one of convenience only. I have not forgotten the Lannister treachery uncle, only ignored it for the time being.” - Edmure Tully

The remnants of the Casterly Clique, led by Myrcella Targaryen (sorry, Lannister) cling on to power in the area around Harrenhal. A hasty alliance between her and the besieged Edmure Tully kept the Harrenhal Clique from being steamrolled by the Storm's End Clique, along with a small but competent army. It remains to be seen how this alliance will fare in the future.

The Players: Princess Myrcella Targaryen

The only surviving child of Cersei and Rhaegar, who was passing through the Golden Tooth to escape Stannis just as the invasion of the southern Westerlands begun. Myrcella is a bright lass and surprisingly charismatic, but without the aid of the Tullys she would have been doomed. In her mind, Edmure Tully plans to press her claim on the Iron Throne that many could still consider despite the allegations of bastardy. In reality, however…

The Players: Duke Edmure Tully

The abandonment of the Tullys by the Targaryens was perhaps Rhaegar’s biggest mistake. In one move, the loyalists north of the crownlands learnt they were to be abandoned in favour of those in the Reach – deprived of aid or guidance or acknowledgment. It is no wonder then, that the Targaryen overtures of this season have been responded to so badly; or that the apparent bastard of Queen Cersei and her brother is dangled before King Rhaegar with the title ‘trueborn’.

“Just as with an Ironborn, a Dornishman can always be trusted to do the most irritating thing.” - Stannis Baratheon

The Dornish have never truly been happy under the rule of King's Landing; every day since their entry into the wider realm was forced at gunpoint by Aegon the Conqueror. So after Stannis Baratheon took King's Landing and crushed the Casterly Clique, the Sunspear Independent Government was formed by Doran Martell – former Duque of the southern kingdom. Since then, they have stayed independent and unmoving; aside from a quiet invitation for Visenya Targaryen to becomes a "guest" of Sunspear, where she might be installed as Queen Visenya I Targaryen if only to stabilise affairs north of the border. However, these plans seem to have collapsed with the surprise attack of the Dragonstone Clique that closed out this season.

The Players: Prince Doran Martell

Doran Martell, unlike most of his brethren was a supporter of an United Westeros. However, he had no love for Rhaegar Targaryen and the Dragonstone Clique due to the mistreatment of his sister by Rhaegar Targaryen in favour of ‘that northern whore’. That was his quiet reasoning behind inviting over Visenya Targaryen, a move that has now proved fatal due to the wrath of Rhaegar Targaryen.

The Players: Prince Oberyn Martell

Oberyn Martell is now the most senior member of House Martell. This title seems far beyond his capabilities, for ‘the Purple Viper’ cares little for the wider realm when the opportunity for sex, alcohol or fighting emerges. Therefore, he is a worthless advisor for his niece; though perhaps she can use his sizable girth as a meat-shield.

The Players: Princess Arianne Martell

Arianne (or ‘the Southern Sun’ as she is called by her many admirers) ended this season as the one of the few surviving members of her House, with only a temporary banishment to the Water Gardens sparing her from the attack of the Dragonstone Clique. Unlike her father Doran, Arianne is an outspoken supporter of Dornish Independence, though she would be okay with Visenya taking control of the northern lands (and perhaps control of her bed as well…)

The Players: Marqués Visenya Targaryen

Visenya Targaryen is the only daughter of Maegor Targaryen, son of Aerion ‘the Brightflame'. She remerged this season after several years abroad, having been separated from her close friend Daenerys in Essos during the outbreak of the war. Like much of her family, she is strongly ambitious - she seeks to weaken the nobility in general (aside from the crown), with many of their roles being replaced by hand-picked wardens and governors. This strategy bears a striking similarity to the manner used to govern the foreign territory of Andalos, after it was seized from the collapsing Pentosi Republic during the Braavos-Volantis War.

The Players: Potestad Varys

The former spymaster of King’s Landing, who had pledged himself to Visenya for “the good of the realm.” He was cut down by Viserys Targaryen during the sack of Sunspear, but ensured that his mistress escaped from the city.

“Why did the Gods curse us to be born Ironborn?” - Rodrick Harlaw

The Ironborn are proudly independent, with their unique religion and culture shared by no one on the mainland. They also have the biggest fleet in Westeros and a fanatical army to boot. After the various cliques who made up the Westerosi Republic's leadership started fighting each other, the Ironborn under Balon Greyjoy, seceded and proclaimed a "restoration" of the pre-Invasion Ironborn Empire. While Balon Greyjoy is Emperor, real power lies in Crown Prince Theon Greyjoy and Princess Yara Greyjoy, who have formed a diarchy which has guided the Empire through the Anti-Casterly War with an alliance with the North. However, factions within the Ironborn elite have developed expansionist and ultra-nationalist views and now call for an invasion of the Riverlands to "fully recreate the Empire". And with the domain of House Stark now fallen, the leaders of House Greyjoy may find their hold on power fragile…

The Players: Iron Emperor Balon Greyjoy

Balon Greyjoy has always been a warmonger. In the days of his father Quellon, he was often in trouble for assaulting ‘Greenlander’ traders and travellers with only his name sparing him from the executioner’s axe. When his father passed away, this fool ascended to the duchy of the Iron Islands and was quick to withdraw his lands from any peaceful alliances with the mainland. If not for the Grey Plague sweeping across Westeros, he might have rebelled then; though he was tempted by the possibility even from his sickbed. Now an old man and still suffering from the aftereffects of the plague, Balon has calmed down somewhat. But it was still his word that begun the Ironborn Rebellion.

The Players: Crown Prince Theon Greyjoy

The third son of Balon, who ascended to his current position due to being lucky enough to escape the Grey Plague when his siblings did not. Theon is an adapt battle commander, but not the brightest brick in the shed – Rodrick claims that he resembles his deceased uncle Victarion in many ways. He is his father’s most adamant admirer and is fully confident in the ability of the Ironborn to conquer the waves.

The Players: Princess Yara Greyjoy

The clever member of the Greyjoy youths, who has won many battles and defeated great warriors even at her young age! Yara credits her training with the mysterious sect known as the Faceless Men for her abilities, who pick their members with utmost care and may dabble with arts that many would deem heretical. She was responsible for the alliance with the North due to a quiet friendship with Robb Stark; a friendship that we now know blossomed with her revelation of being pregnant.

The Players: Earl Rodrick Harlaw

The maternal uncle of Theon and Asha, who proposed the expansion of the Ironborn economy to turn it into a modern industrial power. He was sadly assassinated by Euron Greyjoy in episode 3 of this season.

The Players: Prince Euron Greyjoy

A close advisor of Theon Greyjoy (his nephew), who’s true intentions are shrouded even to the audience. According to his own words he has journeyed over the entire world, even to places as far away as Kono bashwa. He further states that he has gained knowledge and power beyond the reach of any other. He certainly seems to know things he shouldn’t, such as the subject of Yara’s dreams and the true fate of Sansa Stark…

“I shall not break my oath to the House Arryn without due course. Nonetheless, I advise a different path.” - Yohn Royce

Petyr Baelish and Lysa Arryn have kept the Vale non-aligned during the war, focusing instead on putting their house in order. This has alienated a strong pro-Northern force led by Yohn Royce, who seeks to come to the aid of the Starks. The populists in the city of Gulltown, led by Jarden and Carynne Barling also seek power in the Vale. With three factions willing to seek control over the Vale, who knows what might happen in the end…

The Players: Duchess Lysa Arryn

The regent of the Vale, at least officially; Lysa is an infirm woman who has never truly recovered from the Grey Plague of five years prior despite receiving the expensive (and rare) medicine. True power in the Vale is actually in the hands of her council, led by Baron Petyr of the Fingers.

Interestingly enough, Lysa has received the most votes of any character on our ‘Who will die next?’ Poll, for two seasons running.

The Players: Baron Petyr Baelish

The true ruler of the Vale since the murder of President Jon Arryn that sparked the beginning of the series. Petyr Baelish (or ‘Littlefinger’ as he is nicknamed by the public) was previously the Finance Minister of Westeros’ cabinet, a title he abandoned in season 2 to apparently bring the Vale to King Rhaegar’s side. In reality, Baelish had no intention of bringing the Vale to war, since his word was powerful enough there to ensure him effective control of the region (he also had the favour of Duchess Arryn for an unknown reason). This season has seen him work to formalise that control and deal with certain elements that could prove hazardous – though he has begun making time for the petitions of Yohn Royce, since a communist North could prove very dangerous to his position.

The Players: Earl Yohn Royce

As with many members of the aristocracy, Yohn Royce has been sickened by the rise of a communist revolution in Winterfell. Such a notion is inconceivable to one born into the wealth of the upper classes and for Yohn it seems a threat to himself and his family. He was a Stark sympathiser before this incident, but now he would proudly name himself a supporter – if only to save the Vale from the same dark fate.

The Players: Jarden and Carynne Barling

The Vale has long since been unique in the regions of Westeros for having two ‘houses’ in their devolved parliament. While both the House of Lords and the House of Representatives are dominated by the aristocracy, it is hardly unknown for a middle class or even lowborn to appear as a member. Jarden Skipperth is an example of the former, being the son of a factory owner who was able to secure his appointment with the aid of his workers (and it is rumoured, a lot of blackmail). With the aid of many friends in the House, he has seized control of the populist party – a group that claims to value the lives of common folk as high as the desires of the lords. Carynne is his wife and an excellent propaganda tool in their domination of Gulltown’s politics.

“Why should a ‘warlord’ rule over us? Should we not govern ourselves, my brothers and dispose of thrones entirely?” - Brenard Sarn

The last two seasons have seen the work of decades come to fruition for the followers of First Citizen Brenard Sarn, who ruthlessly conquered the heart of the North in a single night as Robb Stark and his generals sat feasting. Since then they have executed innumerable members of the aristocracy in a bloody quest to form what they consider an ‘equal’ society, but aside from those already angry at the nobility this has done little to earn them friends. Worse still is the fact that not all of President Eddard Stark’s children are dead…

The Players: First Citizen Brenard Sarn

Brenard was the only child of his parents, for every one of his siblings died in the womb or infancy. That, in his mind was the first crime the aristocracy committed – failing to help the poorest and the helpless. As a young man he met others of this opinion, working from dawn to dusk in the factories of Wintertown. He was not a handsome man, or even a particularly intelligent one – but his oratory skills were unmatched by any on the continent. With the others of his mind-set, he worked in the shadows to build an uprising; ever fearful of the Stark overlords. This movement never became truly strong, for the shadows are hidden from the view of the many – until the death of Eddard Stark and the sudden weakening of the Duchy of Winterfell. An opportunity was still required for the revolution to begin however…and the Black Dinner was that day.

The Players: Citizen Rickard Darling

Rickard is the foremost supporter of Brenard. Unlike his leader, he was born into the middle class of the North and was secure enough in his finances to not worry about them. As a heavy drinker and partier, he stumbled his way into a meeting of the revolution and was quickly entranced – not at the prospect of a fight or power, but at the words of Sarn and the idea that he was doing something important.

“Robb...you would know what to do in this situation; I am sure of it. You were always better at the art of war than me, even if I mastered the gun and the blade with ease while you waited. But this is not a fight we can win with guns alone; the enemy controls Winterfell. They control more of the North than any single house! What should I do, Robb? What can I do?” - Jon Stark

The North seceded from the wider realm following the Casterly Clique's coup and execution of Eddard Stark, the current Premier of the Republic of Westeros. After their initial victories against the forces of the Casterly Clique, Robb Stark was proclaimed President of the Northern Federation, leading said Federation to victories against the Casterly Clique. However, the Wildling Invasion forced him to turn back – causing him and many of his finest generals to fall into the trap of Brenard Sarn. Now the remnants of his army lie scattered and despite victories scored this season the war is not remotely won…

The Players: President Jon Stark

The bastard son of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne; who is now known as the Bloody Wolf reborn by friend and foe alike. He escaped the Black Dinner by mere chance as his half-brothers and sisters were cut down and now remerges as an important player in this region of the conflict.

The Players: Duchess Sansa Stark

The eldest daughter of Eddard Stark and secret leader of the resistance, who was previously believed to have perished in the Black Dinner.

Chapter Text

The throneroom of King’s Landing, where a disturbed Jaime Lannister is guarding the mad king...

Aerys: Jaime?

Jaime: ‘Sigh’ Yes, your Grace?

Aerys: Do you wanna burn King’s Landing?

Jaime: Wait, What?

Aerys: ‘Ignoring him’ Come on, let’s go and play!
Before Baratheon gets here,
And ruins our fun;
Now Rhaegar’s gone away...

Jaime: Your Grace, there might be better ways to fight Robert off!

Aerys: ‘Speaking’ There aren’t.
‘Singing’ We used to be best buddies,
And by that I mean me and Ty.
I wish that he would tell me why!
Does he want to burn King’s Landing?
It doesn't have to be King’s Landing.

Jaime: ‘Muttering’ It kinda does, since we control nowhere else...

Aerys: Shut up.
Do you wanna burn the smallfolk?
Or the highborn, I don’t care!
I think some wildfire is overdue,
This city smells like shit!
Or at least I hope it’s shit...

The Skull of Balerion: Hang in there, kid!

Aerys: I just look out at the city,
And all these empty rooms
Just watching the hours swing by-

(Orchestral)

Aerys: Jaime?

Jaime: ‘From outside’ -no he’s talking about burning the city, what the fuck do I do-

Aerys: Seriously, where have you gone?
Get back in here, that’s your job you twit!
I'm right here for you, just let the madness in!
We only have each other,
Since Tywin’s wandered off.

Jaime: ‘Muttering’ And Rhaegar is dead.

Aerys: What are we gonna do?
We're gonna torch King’s Landing!
Mwahahahahahahahaaaaa...
(Where’s the Martell gone?)

Chapter Text

The Royal Family

Hand of the King: Prince Duncan the Old. (8)

Master of Laws: Ser Theodore Tyrell. (9)

Master of Coin: Ser Kevan Lannister. (10)

Master of Ships: Lord Robert Baratheon. (11)

High Admiral: Lord Monford Velaryon. (12)

Master of Whispers: Ser Robert Arryn. (13)

Master at Arms: Ser Stannis Baratheon. (14)

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Ser Barristan Selmy. (15)

High Septon: The Fatter One.

The North: Lord Brandon Stark. (16)

The Riverlands: Lord Edmure Tully. (17)

The Iron Islands: Lord Rodrick Greyjoy. (18)

The Vale: Lord Elbert Arryn. (19)

The Westerlands: Lord Jaime Lannister. (20)

The Reach: Lord Seray Tyrell. (21)

The Stormlands: Lord Robert Baratheon.

Dorne: Princess Arianne Martell. (22)

1. Maece: Maece has fought in no wars and won no great victories; however he is perhaps the most loved King in the history of Westeros. His reign has been marked by peace throughout the land, due to his ability to not rock the boat that is Westeros. When faced with a problem, his first solution has always been to sooth the offended parties with gifts of gold and food; accompanied by great feasts that are the talk of the realm. He has fulfilled all his duties and obligations to the letter, including the fathering of a few healthy, legitimate children that he has spent time with whenever he could, along with no bastards that could create a second Blackfyre situation. He has allowed himself to been seen often by the people of King’s Landing and is most generous to them, as well the Faith which has found itself reformed under by his kind hands. Also he fixed the sewers.
2. Janna: The sister of Seray Tyrell and a faithful wife to Maece. Has a surprising dark side that occasionally emerges when she is offended.
3. Willys: Pretty much canon Willas, though he was lucky enough to avoid being crippled in this timeline. He was his grandmother’s favourite prior to her passing and now works with his uncle to ensure that those not partial to Maece’s form of diplomacy are still unable to move against House Targaryen.
4. Cerelle: The daughter of Jaime Lannister and Lysa Tully, married to Willys because of ‘suggestions’ given to Maece by Kevan when the former was drunk. Currently pregnant.
5. Gaerlan: One of the finest knights in the realm, who has for many years been supervising the reconstruction of Summerhall on his father’s orders. Also functions as a unofficial Warden of the South for Willas, keeping an eye on things in the Reach and the Stormlands.
6. Lorys: As in canon, Lorys’ ‘preferences’ are an open secret to the court, with everyone being aware of them except Maece himself. The King is thinking of marrying him to a Riverlander girl (excluding Freys of course), though whether that will work out remains to be seen.
7. Maegaerys: Married to Theon Stark to fulfil the Pact of Ice and Fire (and prevent any of the powerful southern houses from having a claim on the Iron Throne).
8. Duncan: One of the eldest surviving men in Westeros, who has outlived everyone through shear good luck (or bad luck, depending on your perspective). Duncan has been the longest ‘reigning’ Hand of the King in history, securely keeping his position throughout both his brother’s and nephew’s reigns.
9. Theodore: The son and heir of Lord Seray Tyrell, who followed his aunt to King’s Landing and slowly coerced the King into granting him a permanent position. As he is not brilliant at his job and much more interested in partying; Ser Stannis is often required to stand in for him in addition to his other duties. Admires Maece deeply.
10. Kevan: A sop to Tywin who was invited early in Maece’s reign and was allowed to keep the position even after his brother’s passing due to his loyal service. Good friends with Maece.
11. Robert: The Lord of Storm’s End and husband of Lyanna Stark, who became obsessed with the state of the Royal Fleets following his involvement in the War for the Stepstones between Dorne and Myr (and because there were no conflicts at home for him to occupy himself with). A lot of Robert’s money goes towards wine and hunting, though he is kept away from whores (mostly) by the presence of his castellan Eddard Stark. Also good friends with Maece.
12. Monford: The traditional Velaryon sop. Was slightly upset that a Baratheon got the post of Master of Ships over him, but on the other hand King Maece did pay for his nice new flagship…
13. Robert: The son of Elbert Arryn, a boy of some seven and ten years gifted the position after the death of the previous incumbent. Not brilliant at his job, though he is a Arryn so what can anyone expect? Maece thinks he has to lighten up a bit.
14. Stannis: Still an incredibly grumpy man, who keeps his position due to Maece being slightly scared of him (and there being no better candidates for the job). Married to Jaena Caron.
15. Barristan: Inherited the title after Gerold and Arthur’s deaths. Exceedingly loyal to his liege, as one would expect.
16. Brandon: Married to Catelyn, but still a bit of a whoremonger. Occasionally reminds the rest of the realm that he exists, but is happy doing little in the North (especially now that his son has a Targaryen bride).
17. Edmure: Basically canon Edmure. Still unmarried, possibly because he hoped for the hand of Maegaerys Targaryen.
18. Rodrick: A whoring drunkard liked by few and respected by even less – civil war in the Iron Islands in certain to happen sooner or later.
19. Elbert: Heir to Jon Arryn and the paragon of knighthood in Westeros. Currently building a third castle for House Arryn in the southern Vale to ensure his words are heard by all his vassals.
20. Jaime: Never got the chance to join the Kingsguard in this timeline and was therefore married to Lysa Arryn in the year following the False Spring. Their marriage is not close, but has at least created a son and daughter for the Westerlands to follow. Tyrion acts as his brother’s primary advisor, while Cersei hangs around and insults people.
21. Seray: The son of Luthor Tyrell and a Reach lady, who resembles canon Mace in many ways. He is a bit less ambitious however, but balances that out by being rather eccentric.
22. Arianne: Completely and utterly unimportant to the continent outside Dorne. Maece has never cared about keeping his family’s blood pure, so the only chance for a Targaryen-Martell marriage was non-existent in this timeline.

Chapter Text

- Astayunkreen, at an unknown point -

‘The Queen of Various Places and Mother of Arc Fatigue is lying stretched out on a long couch. Depending on whether this is show!Dany or book!Dany, she may or may not be naked.’

Daenerys: Oh when will I find someone to replace my Sun and Stars! Widowhood is hard, even when everyone around me is the opposite of attractive! Oh woe is me!

‘Irri is revealed, performing certain services under the couch.’

Irri: Does the Khalessi find me disappointing?’

Daenerys: Oh, of course not my love! I meant there are no attractive men here. Not women. There are plenty of attractive women.

Irri: Your words please me, Khalessi!

Daenerys: Well, now that my mood has improved, I shall check out the strange device Ser Mormont brought before us.

‘She pulls out an oblong black object from under a cushion.’

Daenerys: T-i-n-d-e-r? Whatever is a dating app?

‘She clicks on the logo, revealing a picture showing a brown-haired and grey-eyed man.’

Benjen Greyjoy, the Cold Wolf: I ain’t dead!

Daenerys: Ooo! He’s okay…but that weird scar on his nose really dents the overall picture. Still, is there anyone else here?

Maegor I, ‘the Kinky’: I might murder you, but it would be worth it; right?!

Daenerys: Bit old. Next!

Jon Arryn, the 7th Primarch: My allegiance is only to the Emperor.

Daenerys: WAY TOO OLD, NEXT!

Sandor Clegane, the Pooch: You’re a dumb bitch.

Daenerys: You can’t talk with that scar, next!

Fraken-Clegane, aka Frankenweenie: Brrrraaaaiiiinnnnssss….

Dany: Ewwwwwww!

Balon Greyjoy, 10-time winner of biggest idiot in Westeros: I will pay the Iron Price, whether you like it or not!

Dany: EWWWWWWW!

Margaery Boleyn, possibly a succubus: My house words are ‘Growing Strong’…

Dany: Tempting, tempting…I might save you for later.

Mew, aka Fetus-Dad: On here because SOMEONE isn’t answering my telepathy.

Dany: Why is a cat on here? Next!

Arceus, aka Llama-Dad: On here because SOMEONE ate the last celestial cookie from the jar. Seriously, WTF MEW?!

Dany: Um…uh…eh?

Jon Snow, has yet to win an actual battle: Where do babies come from?

Dany: Too inexperienced. Next!

Cersei Targaryen, mildly incompetent: Only apply for my hand if you meet the specifications. Namely, look exactly like me or as close as physically possible.

Dany: Someone has issues. Although, I do wonder what it would be like to…with myself…hmm…

Rhaegar Hammerfall, still hiding in Dorne: Do you like continent-spanning civil wars?

Dany: Uh…no. No matter how pretty you are…brother? What?

Aegon IV, still the worst king ever: Do you like multiple continent-spanning civil wars?

Dany: How can one man be so ugly? Next!

Settra the Imperishable, the Begetter of the Begat: Settra ‘rules’ all he surveys!

Dany: But he’s a skeleton? Next.

Settra the Imperishable, the Begetter of the Begat: SETTRA DOES NOT TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER!

Dany:…NO.

Settra the Imperishable, the Begetter of the Begat: CLICK LIKE OR HAVE THE WRATH OF NEHEKHARA FALL UPON YOU LIKE A HAMMER-STROKE!

Dany: Okay fine! Fine! Now, can I pick next?

Qaithe, also known as Masky: I prophesise your satisfaction.

Dany: Show me your face and I’ll consider it.

Robb Stark, unused to Diplomacy: Why are we on ‘Ten-dur’, when there are literal Ice Zombies invading from the North?

Dany: Oh…oh? He’s certainly very pretty…and he’s online!

‘Daenerys opens a conversation.’

‘The conversation ends.’

Dany: I shall save you for later, Stark. Hehehehe…

Edmure Tully, the Flappy Fish of Riverrun: IT ISN’T FLOPPY!

Dany: Inferior as always, little one.

Euron Naharis, too OP for the Reach, PLEZ NERF: I AM THE STORM!

Dany: Tempting as it is to create Cthulu…no.

Kyogre, has no volume control: I AM THE SEA!

Dany: That is literally just a whale. Next!

Reek, (Reek): I…don’t know anymore.

Dany: SWIPE LEFT! SWIPE LEFT! SWIPE LEEEEFFFFTTTT!!!

Ned Stark, enjoys cleaning his sword: This site seems inappropriate.

Dany: Bit boring, next!

Viserys Targaryen, Aerys’ favourite child: Do you want to ‘wake’ the dragon?

Dany: It wasn’t a dragon, brother.

Kroq-gar, hates everyone: This is demanded by the Great Plan.

Dany: Is he the lizard on top or the flightless dragon below?

Daario Stark, possibly a Faceless Man: This is my third account on this site!

Dany: Desperate!

Joffrey Waters, King of Sandwiches: Kneel before your master!

Dany: Daenerys has no master, Daenerys is a free elf!

Rhaenyra I, also known as Maegor with tits: Looking for a sperm donor to produce secret bastards with.

Dany: Someone did not age well. Next!

Daena Stark, wife of Jonnel: Looking for a sperm donor to produce actual bastards with.

Dany: Someone aged very well…what a pity you’ve been dead for nearly a century.

Yvertal, has communication problems: DEEEEEEEEAAAAAATTTTTHHHHH-

Dany: Someone get these Pokémon out of my story!

Ashara Dayne, winner of Mrs. Westeros for seventeen years: Do you want to know how we do it in Dorne?

Dany: Of course. Have a like. Have several likes.

Bran S + Arya S: What’s a boob?

Dany: Too young! Ew.

Catelyn Stark, disapproves: BRAN! ARYA! GET OFF THIS SITE!

Dany: Pretty, though I’d prefer a lighter hair colour on you. Next!

Bollocks, the Sando-Aqua Jedi: The ways of the Jedi are wise.

Dany: I think the experience would literally kill me.

The High Septon: Looking for a Septa to produce worship with.

Dany: Chastity isn’t really my style. Next!

Lyanna Stark, source of endless arguments: Dorne smells funny!

Dany: Bit skinny for my tastes.

Daeron I, lacks foresight: Dorne smells really funny!

‘Daenerys opens a conversation.’

‘Conversation ends.’

Dany: Such a pity. Next.

Oberyn Man-stud Martell, Westeros’ eternal bachelor: Hehehehe…

Dany: Fuck you, Dornishman!

Walder Frey, Westeros’ eternal arsehole: Do you want to be wife number 10?

Daenerys: NO! NEXT!

The Smith, god of…: If your name is Aphrodite, don’t apply.

Dany: Still a bit old, next.

Petyr Littlefinger, Grey Seer: Yes man-thing, click on us, yes-yes…

Dany: Why is there a picture of a rat?

Varys Blackfyre, small in certain departments: ‘Person not available’

Dany: How intriguing…how mysterious…oh, he’s a eunuch. Next!

Stannis Baratheon, ‘grinds teeth’: Do your duty…as I do mine.

Dany: How are your teeth still in one piece?!

Jaime Targaryen, likes tall towers: The ‘things’ I do for love.

Dany: Have a like, pretty boy.

Daemon Blackfyre, THE TRUE KING: I am the true dragon, come and see…

Dany: Didn’t you love a girl with my exact name?...have a like.

Tyrion Targaryen, large in certain departments: Come, sit with the ‘God’ of tits and wine.

Dany: Pass; I’ve seen the Bloody Hand and know exactly where this would be going!

Lancel Lannister, has beautiful green eyes: REPENT HERETIC!

Dany: That star does nothing for your face.

Big Bobby B, aka Trident-Mashing-Machine: My sexual prowess is worshipped throughout the land.

Dany: Ooo…he’s a big one.

‘Daenerys opens a conversation.’

Chapter Text

“Sssh! Rhaenys be quiet, you’ll give the game away!”

My sister pouted, her sweet features folding into an expression more suited for a child of five than the woman she was.

Her voice sounded suspiciously like a child’s as well; “I don’t see-“

“SSSH!” I barked, immediately slamming my hands against my own mouth in panic at breaking my own rules. Why did the gods curse me to be without the ability to be quiet? Why?!

This heat doesn’t help either!

Rhaenys huffed, before continuing in a thankfully more quiet voice; “I don’t see why I can’t be ‘Aegon’ and you just be yourself? Or better still, I could just be myself and we say that you – the real you – has gone off hunting or whatever.”

I growled from my position on the Iron Throne, before surreptitiously reaching up to adjust the man’s wig currently adorning my head. “I told you this before sis…uh, I mean ‘wife’. I…or rather you dressed as me has to be around as the senior partner in this relationship. Especially since these northern lords respect strength and – no offence – normal you doesn’t really give that impression!”

“Hey!” My sister seemed offended for some reason; “That’s not true-”

“It really is” I stated. Those – like myself – who knew Rhaenys well, knew that she would be unable to hurt a fly unless pressganged into it. It was no coincidence that she had burnt the least amount of people during my conquest.

“Sister…” Rhaenys whined; arms babyishly crossed over in a set of chainmail slightly too large for her (which made sense because it was actually my set of chainmail). “Okay. Okay then. That explains why ‘Visenya’ has to be here. It doesn’t explain why you can’t be yourself and I can’t just be our brother! We both have sets of armour made to resemble a man’s set and we both have wigs done to hide our hair. I even have a fake beard just like you!”

I sighed. “I get to be Aegon because I am the eldest. I also look more impressive, which is why I arranged all the fealty swearing – a beard and a wig do not make you that much like a man!” Why was this so difficult for her to understand?

“Apparently they make you look like a man!” snapped my sister in reply; “And I note, you had no objections to me looking like ‘Aegon’ during that affair with the Darklyns!”

“Well of course I didn’t; I was busy finding enough Valyrian Steel to make two identical crowns for us to use as ‘Aegon’ – do you know how difficult that was! I nearly considered heading to Essos and seeing what I could find in the Free Cities!” It was only the quiet destruction of a blade our half-brother was going to receive that meant I didn’t have to do so; Orys had complained, but forgave me when the Stormlands (and the Durrandon lass) mysteriously came up for sale.

“Doesn’t change the fact that no one noticed that our ‘brother-husband’ was mysteriously well endowed” Rhaenys smirked; “And continuing along that line of thought…you didn’t care when I dressed up to marry you when we started this whole scheme.”

“Well obviously!” I replied; “It would be weird for me to marry myself.” Why was this so hard to understand? It wasn’t as if I was making her do that strange a thing; especially since others had performed this same duty in the past. Orys had been fine during the several times when I had needed him to dress as me (or mother) and his wife had been perfectly accepting of the same during the parley with Torrhen Stark! Seriously, if Rhaenys wasn’t my sister I would have given up a long time ago thanks to her arrogance – but no matter. I would keep my resolve. I was Queen Visen-King Aegon of Westeros! I was the monarch of Seven Kingdoms! I was…honestly quite uncomfortable in this chainmail, with the itchy beard and the bound breasts and the parsnip secured between my legs (which was most definitely not turning me on, thank-you!).

I surreptitiously reached down and adjusted the region as Rhaenys continued complaining. “Y’know sis-” she began.

“Husband!” I barked, voice cracking with the effort of speaking as a man; “Remember…your place…wife! Remember it!” I shook a mailed fist to hammer the point home.

“Fine” Rhaenys sighed; “Fine! My eternal love, I have the sneaking suspicion that you might possibly, partly, potentially be hoarding ‘your favourite role’ to yourself. Not that I mean any offence of course or that I wish to make insinuations on your most noble character! I as your beloved wife know ‘your character’ more than any other and I know the truth of how great it is.”

I blinked. Was that an insult or a compliment?

“…Thank you, uh…wife” I began from my place on the throne; “But remember, you are Visenya my eldest sister – not Rhaenys the younger. You are-“

“OH OF COURSE!” Rhaenys laughed – and she strode to the centre of the hall, my mail swirling around her like a gown; “How could I make that mistake, my apologies! I shall say my lines again; My bitch of a husband, I have the fucking theory that you might be an odious little shit that is hording all the fun roles to yourself while forcing me to take up the slack! No offence!”

I was appalled. “Rhaenys, language! Do you want me to call mother here and tell her to give you a spanking!” I expected such behaviour from commoners; not from my baby sister! She should always be held to a higher standard as a member of House Targaryen.

“Hang yourself, you whore” Rhaenys muttered; “And answer my question!”

“What question?” I asked.

“YOU KNOW FULL WELL WHAT QUESTION!” she bellowed; doing an impression of myself that even I would have had difficulty matching. For once the resemblance between us was amplified; I could finally see myself in her sharp eyebrows and stretched cheeks. Her eyes were mirrors of my own, purple stars that blazed with righteous fury. The armour only strengthened this impression, for no longer did it look too big on her – it looked hard and mighty, as did the sword clasped at her hip.

My baby sister is finally growing up!

“We shouldn’t talk about stuff like that” I said, descending from the throne. I threw Blackfyre to the side, followed swiftly by the wig and ‘Aegon’s armour’. The parsnip also came out; thankfully cutting Rhaenys off from another rant as she turned green at the sight.

“Uh, sister…what are you doing?” she asked, her eyes remaining absolutely fixed on my face as I retrieved a gown from Ser Corlys (one of hers unless I was very mistaken, since it was tight around the chest).

I grabbed her arm and begun dragging her out of the room. “We are going to go for a walk” I declared, in the manner of the proud elder sister that Rhaenys deserved; “This hall is getting too stuffy and the two of us need to discuss your recent womanhood anyway.”

“My recent what?!” she spluttered; “I had my flowering over a decade ago, you were there when we discovered it!” She glanced back at the Iron Throne that now sat empty. “And…what about the northmen we were meant to receive?”

“Corlys shall handle it” I confidently said, adjusting the red dress that was a tad too small for me; “If you would Lord Commander?”

“Do I need to wear the parsnip as well, your grace?” he asked; not questioning my superior judgment for a moment in his wisdom. It was one of the things I liked about the man, along with his ability to look very fetching in a silver wig.

I paused and glanced back at the yellow vegetable lying on a paved tile. “Uh…no; someone should...get rid of that” I muttered; “Ser Richard! Do so! Do so bravely!”

And with that settled, I led the confused Rhaenys from the hall. Behind us I could hear the lucky Kingsguard expressing himself with delight at being declared parsnip-remover. Truly I am the kindest of rulers!

Once we were back in the privacy of our own apartments, I turned to Rhaenys with a massive smile on my face. There may have also been a few tears leaking out, for now I understood why mother was so weepy at the coming of my moonblood! “I am so proud of you Rhaenys-” I began

“Visenya stop” she grumbled.

“For you to finally become a woman-” I continued, ignoring what I knew to be grateful muttering.

“Visenya…” she growled.

“It is all I have ever hoped for, ever since you were a little baby-“

“I haven’t been a baby in 20 years.” What a strange comment to make. Obviously she had been a baby for these last two decades, why else would all the kingdoms know her as my ittle-bahby-sistey.

Goo-goo-ga-ga! Say goo-goo-ga-ga!

“Why are you making baby noises?” Rhaenys said, one eyebrow raised in a manner lesser people would have considered insulting.

“Ahem” I barked, clearing my throat while simultaneously clamping down on my traitorous mind; “I wasn’t, don’t talk nonsense. Talk joy! Joy at the fact that we can finally move forward with stage 8 of my plan to rule Westeros!”

“There’s a stage 8?” my sister exclaimed; “Since when?”

“Since always!” I cried gleefully to the heavens; “But I have hidden it from you beforehand to ensure that your innocence was not shattered prematurely!” Truly I am a great elder sister!

“Visenya!” Rhaenys barked, then she paused; “Wait – before I get angry – what is this plan of yours?”

“I shall explain…” I said, as mysteriously as possible. Surely the gods would indulge my hesitation for a few more moments as I explained the final step in my master plan; a plan so genius that all the world had trembled at the audacity of it. I had devised it when I was five and though a few alterations had been made since, the majority of it remained the way it had been since my childhood.

• Step 1: Invent a younger brother for myself (and Rhaenys), that can be used a figurehead to ensure I didn’t need to marry anyone boring or give up Dragonstone. Convince mother to go along with this by copious amounts of the demon weed.
• Step 2: Convince everyone that dragons are bonded to one individual (which in this case is me, my sister and my ‘brother’), rather than anyone who brings them a decent offering and speaks High Valyrian.
• Step 3: Spend two years fantasising about pretty boys while my body catches up to already adult mind.
• Step 3.5: Spend three years doing the same while waiting for Rhaenys to grow up as well.
• Step 3.75: Spend one year fantasising over pretty girls while waiting for Orys to grow up as well.
• Step 4: Marry my ‘brother’ and convince Rhaenys to do the same. Possibly marry Orys to him as well.
• Step 5: Engineer a falling out with the Stormlands by arranging for Argillic Durrandon to receive various nasty critters in the mail.
• Step 6: Conquer Blackwater Bay/southern Westeros/all of Westeros, committing as many acts of pyromania as reasonably possible. Arrange for everyone to think ‘my brother’ did it.
• Step 6.5: Conquer Dorne (still a work in progress).
• Step 7: Profit!

Truly the plan of a genius! Mwahahahahaha!

Rhaenys stared. “Why are you laughing?” she spluttered; “Are you drunk? Is there something in the water?”

“I was just reviewing my devious schemes, sister!” I said, a wide grin spreading across my face; “There is nothing to worry about. Nothing at all! Everything is going exactly as I have devised.” My sister grimaced and oddly looked more worried rather than less.

“That doesn’t comfort me” she replied, perhaps implying that perhaps she was ill; “I mean you came up with this idea to invent a brother, rather than just going with the sensible solution and marrying us both to Orys.”

“Orys doesn’t know how to bathe and bites his fingernails” I replied, grimacing at the thought; “It would be beneath us to be with someone like that.” I paused to remember. “He was also my main back-up for replacing any King that refused to bow to us” I said; “It’s a pity we only had one half-brother, I could have given the other Highgarden instead of that ugly Reachman.”

Rhaenys seemed to be sagging where she stood. Obviously this was because my armour was still slightly too big for her in the front, a natural issue for my baby sister. “Visenya” she huffed; “What. Is. Step. 8?”

“We are going to get pregnant!” I declared, grinning the widest smile that had ever existed anywhere; “The throne needs a heir and – let’s be honest – Orys isn’t quite up to the task.”

“You want us to get pregnant?” Rhaenys gasped; “But how? Any man we sleep with is a possible threat to our children’s succession!” She looked shifty. “Not…that I’m adverse to the idea…” she hesitantly drawled; “As long as the man is…up to standard.”

“I have come up with a perfect solution for both those problems!” I declared, delighting once again in my genius. Many would have declared my excessive pride a sin, but I understood that the gods had given me this brilliance for a reason – so why shouldn’t I glory in it? “In fact, I have thought of nothing but this matter for the last three months; so I am confident this solution is beyond foolproof!”

“Oh gods!” Rhaenys looked strangely terrified; perhaps she was actually ill? “What is it? What have you done?!”

“Nothing yet!” I grinned; “But when the time is right – wait, where did I put it?” I searched through the pockets of my dress for the item of significance…before realising that I was wearing one of Rhaenys’ gowns and marching over to my sister to search through the pockets of my armour. Ahah! “Here it is!” I cried, brandishing the long object like I would a sword. “The Staff of Mighty Magic! Using my encyclopaedic knowledge of Blood Magic, I shall turn this into a penis, which you shall use to impregnate me and then I shall use to impregnate you!”

Rhaenys did an expression that would have been at home on a deer. “…it’s a stick?” she spluttered.

I gasped in furious outrage on the stick’s behalf; “It is not a stick!” I bellowed; “It is a staff – The Staff of Mighty Magic!”

“It’s a stick.”

I internally calmed myself; of course she did not understand. Few possessed anything near my level of foresight. “It might look unimpressive now, but give it a few months and it shall be a penis the likes of which the world has never seen!”

Rhaenys still wasn’t convinced. “It’s literally just a stick, Visenya.”

“I know!” I sobbed. Curse my sister for having the foresight to see through my impenetrable defence! How could she have known the truth of my thoughts? “I’ve been searching for three months, but the only rituals to get a woman pregnant without male involvement require the blood of kings! And we’ve killed half the kings and forced the other half to relinquish their crowns!”

“There, there…” Rhaenys plodded over to my shaking form, wrapping her long armoured arms around me in a embrace that was certainly not any form of restraint. “Let it all out” she said; “Just let the tears fall; we’ll find another way to get ourselves pregnant.” She paused in thought. “In fact…”

“Yes?” I asked.

“I might already have an idea!” Her grin was equal parts adorable and terrifying. “Do you still have the stuff we used to go undercover as Lady Argella?” The ‘stuff’ was comprised of two black wigs, four blue contacts and several yellow dresses designed in the Stormlander style.

“Of course!” I replied; “I never throw out anything, because who knows when we’ll need it again!”

Rhaenys wasn’t impressed. “I know” she muttered; “But – ignoring your disgusting habits for the time being – I have an idea that requires them. We shall dress in them and trade places with Lady Argella for a few months. Then Orys can do the deed and we don’t need to worry about anyone telling on us!”

“A genius scheme!” I grinned; “All we have to do it avoid mentioning to Argella that whoever’s replacing her is currently getting knocked up by her husband and we’ll both have buns in no time at all! I’ll send the message out tonight!”

Truly I am a genius without compare for coming up with this scheme! Mwahahahahahaha!

And that, dear readers is how Visenya and Rhaenys (and Orys, their mother and Argella Durrandon) scammed all of Westeros. In time, many of their descendants would use the same tactic – such as Queen Rhaenyra faking the existence of her half-brother, Brynden Rivers faking the existence of a king and his bastard brother, Prince Rhaegar trying and failing to fake the return of Aegon the Conqueror and Viserys the Exile faking the existence of a sister and a nephew that never existed in the first place.

There were no survivors.

Chapter Text

 A Song of Blood and Skulls

The Rulers of the Slaughterhouse

King on the Iron Throne: Robb Stark, Ruler of Westeros, Lord of the Black Keep, Champion of Khorne, Slayer of the False Gods, the Bloody, the Red Wolf, Othersbane, the Favoured One. (1)
Queen on the Iron Throne: Dacey Mormont, Lady of Blood Island, the Gorequeen, the Demon of Slaughter, the Roseblood. (2)
Prince of Dragonskull: Archeon Stark, the Demon Child. (3)

Other Members of the Royal Family (4)

Prince of Winterfell: Rickon Stark, the Beastman. (5)
Princess of Thenn: Arya Stark, the Lady of Hunger, the Young Wolf, the Skinwalker. (6)

The Small Council (7)

Hand of the King: Greatjon Umber, Lord of Last Hearth, the Cyclops, the Skullmask. (8)
Master of Judgement: Brynden Tully, Lord of Bloodlake, the Black-Fish, the Withered Lord. (9)
Master of Industry: Randyll Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill, the Heartsbane, the Great Traitor. (10)
Master of Ships: Victarion Greyjoy, Lord of Pyke, the Red Rain, Butcher of Dorne, the Red Kraken. (11)
Mistress of the King's Will: Daenerys Targaryen, Lady of Godswrath, the Second Queen, the Fireblood, the Forger of Chains, Mother of Dragons, She-who-rages. (12)
Mistress of Reaving: Asha Greyjoy, Lady of Bloodstone, the Pirate Queen, the Woe of Lys, the Drowned Harpy, King's Favourite. (13)
Commander of the Skull-Collectors: Urrigor Tusklord, Scourge of the Weak, the Merciless, the Unending. (14)

Lord Paramounts (15)

Lord of the Chaos Wastes: Arya Stark. (16)
Lord of the North: Rickon Stark. (17)
Lord of the Bloodlands: Brynden Tully. (18)
Lord of the Vale: Lysa Arryn. (19)
Lord of the Broken Islands: Victarion Greyjoy. (20)
Lord of the Wastelands: Gregor Clegane. (21)
Lord of the Doomlands: Randyll Tarly. (22)
Lord of the Desert: Daenerys Targaryen. (23)

1. Very little is left of the boy who idolised the Young Dragon. Ever since the arrival of his Mark of Khorne, Robb has dedicated himself to serving his God and Master in the hopes of one day achieving Daemonhood for himself. Already he has slaughtered and conquered Westeros for that purpose, eventually bringing low the Seven False Gods and presenting their skulls before the throne; but more remains. So much more...
2. Dacey Mormont met Robb Stark shortly into his campaign to avenge his father and managed to form a connection before the young lord was totally devoted to Khorne. However, not even love could defeat the God of War and so Dacey has followed Robb into the abyss; butchering the entire Tyrell Family in an endless desire to please both her masters.
3. At three months, the babe born of chaos has achieved little of note. That is aside from killing two wet nurses in the process of his morning feed. Robb has named him Archeon, a name suggested by his loyal warriors from an old story.
4. Sadly enough, not all of Robb's family were willing to worship the true god and so met the blades of their king and relative. Catelyn, Sansa and Bran were executed for worship of the Seven, Slannesh and Tzeetch respectively. Jon Snow meanwhile has regressed to beasthood and so is kept by Robb as a pet.
5. Not quite yet a beastmen despite the name and yet Shaggydog has mysteriously disappeared...
6. Arya is her brother's favourite sibling and with good reason. Converting to the Blood God at a mere whisper of his name, she alone was responsible for discovering Roose Bolton's planned treachery. Now wearing his skin as a cloak, she has claimed the former domain of Thenn as her domain and endlessly seeks to please her brother's every demand...
7. Robb has reformed the Small Council, knowing thanks to Khorne's gift of strategy that a successful warlord leaves a strong home base at his back. The post of Master of Whispers has been removed as a perceived insult to Khorne and several other posts have been altered to serve the new regime.
8. One of the King's favourites, Greatjon Umber instantly converted to the worship of the Blood God upon arriving at Winterfell and has fought by his King's side ever since. He has received a nasty mutation following the war against the Others and now has only one eye to call his own.
9. Brynden Tully was slow to convert to Khorne worship, perhaps spurred on by the execution of his niece. But the Blood God knows all about the way of a warrior and so was patient, waiting for the bloodshed to forge the Blackfish into an excellent champion. Formerly the position of Master of Laws.
10. In a contrast to Brynden, Randyll Tarly was quick to fall under Khorne's might and raise his banners for the Bloody Wolf. Attacking both Dorne and the southern Reach indiscriminately, his actions pleased Robb enough to grant him dominion over the latter. Formerly the position of Master of Coin.
11. Perhaps the least favourite of the King's, Victarion has nonetheless been granted this position as a recognition of both his martial strength and his defeat of the Tzeetch-worshipping heretic Euron.
12. One of the God of War's stranger champions, Daenerys Targaryen was targeted by Khorne early on during the War of the Five Kings as a potential champion. The Blood God would quickly be proven right, as small whispers were more than enough to send the Dragon Queen deep into madness; unleashing her on a hapless Slaver's Bay. Now she is one of Robb's most devoted servants, eagerly dreaming of the time when her Lord's chosen will take her as his second wife - and start a dynasty that will never end.
13. From feeble beginnings as the second daughter of Balon the Fool, Asha Greyjoy has risen to the heights of glory - establishing herself as the Pirate Queen, the Plague of the Free Cities and a favourite for all the court in King's Landing. Rumour states that she has taken a humble blacksmith as her slave-husband for reasons most unclear. Robb has granted her this post since Master of Ships was already taken.
14. One of the Chaos Warriors transported to Westeros, Urrigor quickly proved his worth following his utter destruction of Jaime Lannister's army.
15. Robb has reorganised the Seven Kingdoms, announcing that now the right of conquest outweighs the right of blood. Any man who can seize his enemy's territory will be accepted by the Iron Throne as the rightful ruler. He has furthermore combined the Stormlands and the Crownlands into one dominion after bifurcating Stannis Baratheon.
16. Arya has claimed this wild land as her own, slaughtering all who stand in her way.
17. Rickon Stark's hold on the North weakens by the day and unless he steps up to enforce his leadership, another will come to claim Winterfell. Robb and Arya do not care, after all they have managed to control their lands - why can't Rickon?
18. Remained after the Battle of the Red Fork turned the surrounding lands into a blood-marsh. Brynden has taken over lordship after the execution of Edmure for cowardice.
19. A surprising favourite of Khorne, the Blood God has granted many a mutation to the 'Mad Widow of the Eyrie' in the hope that the civil war in the Vale continues for as long as possible.
20. Renaimed for being the first victims of Robb's conquest. Balon Greyjoy had his skull placed before the throne by Asha Greyjoy, an act which certainly earned her the Blood God's favour.
21. Even with the beautiful carnage the Lannisters had created in the Bloodlands, Robb could not forgive their insult to his house. After butchering the entire line therefore, he handed the lordship of Casterly Rock to the most deserving person.
22. Named for the doom that had befallen most Reachmen houses, too preoccupied with chivalry and gallantry.
23. Robb has granted this harsh land to Daenerys, an act which quickly resulted in mass dragonfire.

Here are five alternate info boxes for Grey Wind/Chaos Spawn!Jon, a Khornite version of Sansa (non-canon), a Khornite Bran (non-canon), Ygritte and Tormund.

The King's Favoured Hounds: Greyfang and Ghostfang, the Hell Hounds. (1)
Princess of Harrenfall: Sansa Stark, the Pyromancer, the Angel of Death, the Cannibal. (2)
Prince of Winterfell: Brandon Stark, Once-Crippled, the Blind Warrior. (3)
Lady of Highgarden: Ygritte Bloodbow, the Winged Demon, the Lady of the Skies, Stormborn. (4)
The Troll King: Tormund Giantblood, Lord of Hopemourne, the Snow King, the Rebel, Spine-riper, Falseblood, the Monster Lord. (5)

1. Before the coming of Khorne, Greyfang (then called Grey Wind) was a typical Direwolf, proud and fierce but hardly unique. Now he stands the size of a man and his horns, fangs and scales have made him a monster upon the battlefield. His 'brother' Ghostfang looks much the same, only with the addition of a human maw's instead of a Direwolf's following the corruption of Jon Snow. There is nothing left of the Bastard of Winterfell aside from physical features, that man has long since faded.
2. Said to be one of the most beautiful in the realm following the slaughter in the south, Sansa Stark has not aged a day since the beginning of the war. To ensure this she dines relentlessly on the flesh of young women, an action that has granted her a terrible reputation.
3. Through the many blessings of Khorne, the once crippled Brandon Stark was healed of his injuries (though it should be noted that his legs now look vaguely demonic). At the encouragement of Arya he has joined her in terrorising the few rebel northmen and the Freys as well once their treachery was discovered.
4. Perhaps the greatest archer in the land and the former lover of Jon Snow, Ygritte has taken over the former castle of the Tyrells as her own. Blessed with wings by the Blood God, she is a terrible foe upon the battlefield.
5. One of the few surviving Westerosi rebels, Tormund has nonetheless fallen under the thrall of Khorne as the 'Troll King'; a heavily mutated giant with stone for skin who inhabits the former castle of the Others - Hopemourne.

Chapter Text

The Crypts of Emptiness

“Hang on” Jon began; “Who put these statues down ‘ere?”

Arya and Sansa found their throats empty of words to answer him with, though that might simply have been a result of the coldness of the crypts that were chilly even in summer. Or it might have been simply a result of seeing the ghosts of their younger selves staring back at them. The youngest Stark idly wondered who’d remembered to give her statue a sword; then remembered that no one in Winterfell should have known she had a sword in the first place.

Jon wasn’t deterred by the silence of his sisters. “Seriously, who?” he questioned; “And why for that matter? I don’t think any of us were presumed dead long enough for anyone to get ‘round to it. Plus, the Boltons or the Ironborn were in control of Winterfell for most of that time!”

He also questioned why his statue looked so old, with wrinkles and lines that he would hope not to have for a few years yet. Had the stonemasons of Winterfell forgotten what he looked like so quickly? He wasn’t that uninteresting, was he?

Sansa concurred with his opinion. “It...must just be a set of ancestors who looked exactly like us” she suggested; “Otherwise, where are the statues for Robb and Rickon? And Bran, for that matter?”

“And why is there a statue for mother?” Arya cut in; “Shouldn’t she be buried in Riverrun?”

“Technically my mother...” muttered Jon; “...is meant to be here..."

“Must you remind us of that at every opportunity?” whined Sansa; “It’s not even as if it matters - Neither Arya or me care who's womb you popped out of!”

“And you bringing it up every hour without fail is really annoying!” Arya cut in. She had been sympathetic to Jon’s plight, even more so than Sansa...for the first five times he had brought it up, that is. Nowadays...well she wasn’t called a she-wolf for nothing.

Jon wasn’t happy with the response and lack of sympathy from his siste-eh, cousins. “Well!” he spat; “Excuse me for being a little shell-shocked with the revelation that our father was doing the deed with his sister!”

Arya and Sansa looked at each other. Or rather, Arya glared and Sansa eventually relented. How many times had they had this conversation?

“I don’t think that’s what happened, Jon...” she began.

Jon didn’t let her finish; “What else could be an explanation? Bran had a vision of Aunt Lyanna giving birth - to me!”

Arya scowled in annoyance and leapt to the attack; “As we keep telling you, Rhaegar Targaryen-“

“Shut it!” Jon shrieked; “As if Aunt Lyanna - my mother, apparently - could be as vain and selfish and awful to do that to Elia Martell and her children! I mean, everything we’ve heard about her paints her as a wonderful and compassionate women - not some home-destroying harpy! I mean, who do you think she is - Alicent Hightower?!”

"I have started to wonder..." Sansa muttered; "That or a younger Cersei."

"That's it!" Jon shrieked; "You're disowned!"

And with that final comment, the Lord of Winterfell stormed away into the darkness.

"Technically, I was never un-disowned!" Sansa called after him.

Both Stark sisters made a mental note to find Queen Daenerys to drag him out of his funk at some future point. It was either that or do it themselves...and neither of them cared that much about the idiot who had sacrificed Northern Independence for no reason.

"Where are Robb and Rickon's statues?" Arya asked; "Surely you and Jon have been in control of Winterfell long enough to do that?"

"Jon keep vanishing down south" Sansa grunted; "Which is rather concerning when the White Walkers could attack at any moment - Ahem!" She coughed, impolitely.

Arya raised an eyebrow. "He needs to go visit his 'Jenny'."

Sansa sighed. "The Gods only know how much I hate that song now" she said. "As it happens, while the two of you have been off travelling and threatening to cut off and wear people's faces, respectively-"

"Hey!" Arya cried. It was only one time she'd nearly done that to Sansa!

Sansa ignored her and continued talking; "-I have been working on that exact thing. If you'd follow me, sister?"

Taking the torch Jon had left behind, the eldest of the two siblings led her sister into the gloom of the crypts. Neither of them were concerned at the dead faces staring out at them; both had seen enough to know that stone and their ancestors were nothing to be afraid of. Both payed close attention to the Direwolves that accompanied each dead Stark, however; Sansa still mourned for her beloved Lady and Arya - while knowing her pet was still alive, somehow - hadn't seen Nymeria in nearly a year.

In time, they came to a greater archway than any of the previous, though this one was still of a great age; polished over the years with moss and a cold, dry wind. Beyond the archway, the crypts were bright once again - someone had been down here, specifically to tend to these torches.

Arya gasped.

In the space before the two sisters, three statues were standing tall and solemn. There was a boy, lanky and joyful. There was a women, gorgeous and pregnant. And there was a man, armoured and bearded - and crowned.

"Rickon. Robb." Arya whispered; "They look so different from when I last-" She blinked.

"It's been years" Sansa said, stepping forward to place her torch into a waiting holder. “Even if it feels like minutes.”

Arya sniffed, then rubbed her eyes and attempted to steady herself. “Who’s the women?”

“Robb’s wife, Talisa” Sansa replied; “I think she was a Volantine so she technically shouldn’t be down here-“

“But you wanted them to be together.”

“I did. It’s the only wedding gift I can offer.”

Chapter Text

- A Few Oneshots -

Dany’s Big Speech

With a great deal of trepidation, Jon marched through the charred gate and into the great square before what had formally been the Red Keep, the seat of government in Westeros. The first thing he noticed was the parade of Unsullied and Dothraki encompassing most of the scorched stone, the former standing with a discipline that he was only now considering generally unnerving. His own soldiers…might have been monsters, as he had born witness to the previous day; but they were still men. They had hopes and dreams, fears and anxieties – not like the slave children of Essos, who had neither.

At the sides of the great plaza, the surviving citizens of King’s Landing huddled together and watched with fearful bright eyes. Even the children among them didn’t dare to speak, defended by fear and the silence of the Unsullied. Only the Dothraki were different, laughing and cackling among themselves as they awaited their queen.

Daenerys…

With a sudden roar of wings from the dragon accompanying her, Daenerys strode out to the cheers and approval of her Dothraki hordes. The unsullied were more disciplined; they only allowed themselves the action of slamming the butts of their spears in unison, like the marching of some great army of demons.

Jon made his way over to Ser Davos, who nodded in respect to him as Daenerys opened her mouth to the sudden silence of the crowd.

“My armies!” she boomed; “My people! I bid you welcome to King’s Landing – Capital of the Seven Kingdoms!”

The Dothraki cried with glee, swinging araks and bows in the air as if they were already off to war again.

“It is my greatest pleasure” Daenerys cried; “To announce that the Usurper Queen is dead! And the Lannister Rebellion, has been foiled!”

More cheers and glee from the Dothraki filled the square, along with the booming of spears from the Unsullied. Some among the citizens clapped nervously, terrified at the prospect of this Dragon Queen turning her attention once more on them.

“The Remaining Lions will be hunted down and defeated!” Daenerys spat. Even from this distance, Jon could see the vindictive glee on her face. She was proud of what she had accomplished! Proud to have destroyed the capital and left hundreds dead and burnt!

Briefly he wondered over Tyrion. When had he last seen him? Yesterday? He could only hope Daenerys was excusing some Lannisters from her vengeance and only punishing the truly guilty.

With a wave of her arms, Daenerys once again quieted down the crowd and basked in the attention for another few endless seconds. And then she spoke again, quieter now, but all the louder for it.

“I know that some of your number have been left scarred and deformed, by the attempts to steal my birthright.” She smiled – was that pride on her face or vindictive pleasure? “I know that regardless, our resolve has never been stronger!” As the words flew out of her, they gathered speed and volume – and the crowd heard. As one, the Dothraki and Unsullied began to boom: “Stronger! Stronger! Stronger!”

Over all the shrieking came the sound of Drogon, roaring out to the heavens themselves in challenge – the truest and most terrifying representation of his mother. Daenerys had triumphed over ice, fire, water and steel – what was left to stand against her?

There was no mistaking her expression now. Glee. Cruel, unrelenting glee. The citizens of King’s Landing could see it also, as could Ser Davos and the few others standing around Jon at the back of the plaza.

They say the Mad King laughed as he saw people burn.

None of them dared to speak.

Daenerys raised her arms again and once more there was that cruel silence. Even the great dragon lowered itself in submission before the Queen. Even the wind and the snow died.

“In order to ensure our security and continuing stability-” Daenerys barked; “The Seven Kingdoms will be reorganized! Into the Second! Valyrian! Empire!”

Some of Jon’s allies let out a soft gasp, but the rest of the crowd stood awed and rapturous.

“For a safe and secure, society!” Daenerys finished.

As one, the clouds burst. Dothraki, Unsullied and terrified Westerosi alike cheered and applauded the Dragon Empress. Even among those of Daenerys’ council; Grey Worm, a white-faced Sansa, the Prince of Dorne and a quiet Bran joined in the crowd. Arya seemed to consider doing so as well, but merely faded into the crowd as shadows were wont to do so.

Davos turned to face him, eyes wet and mouth trembling. “So this is how liberty dies” he said; “With thunderous applause.”

It was a fairly unremarkable day in Volantis. The Great Temple required the constant attention of priests and cleaners, of course – but with most of the population off on the public holiday arranged by the Triarchs – in honour of some ancient victory she couldn’t care less about – Kinvara was free to let her hair down and relax. Perhaps she would have time for a bath before evening services, surely the Lord would allow her that privilege.

She had just begun the delicate process of removing her choker when an acolyte flew into her bathing room; with a face as white as the ocean spray and a terrified expression. “High Priestess!” she cried; “Forgive the interruption but Gatemaster Hurin has begged your presence! A…matter has arisen in the Great Plaza.”

Kinvara frowned. Hurin would not disturb her for any ordinary reason, or indeed for any peculiar reason – he was far too dignified and stubborn. Even when his children had gotten themselves into trouble with a hypnotist-

“Tell him I shall be down immediately. The Great Plaza, correct?”

The girl nodded and sped off. Hopefully it was only the seriousness of the situation that had made her so twitchy – a clumsy acolyte was the last thing the Great Temple needed with so many priceless relics around.

It took her a few minutes to dress and make her way to the Temple Gates. Around the entrance, she noticed a great number of the Guard armed and armoured with the normal expression of grim determination on their faces.

But their eyes were twitching and their mouths were shaking…with fear?

She strode among them. Instantly they formed into a marching line, spears and javelins ready to repulse any who would threaten her life. Hurin fell into position beside her, his hand clutched around one of the flaming swords so favoured by their people. He nodded to her and gestured for the doors; which had been most unusually barred and secured.

With a great grinding they moved apart and Kinvara walked out into the Grand Plaza of Volantis.

Instantly, she sucked in breath.

A dragon stood before her and the assembled guard. A great black beast, with scalding scales and wings that could blacken out the sun. A deep growling came from it, one that was interrupted by coughs and whines. It’s dark eyes sort her out and immediately it came to sit on it’s haunches.

It hissed, then breathed in a lungful of the cold seaside air...and spoke! Spoke!

“FIX HER.”

And as it pushed the woman’s body towards her, Kinvara could only stare and shiver.

Sansa: You don’t have to go North, you know. You could stay in Winterfell with me, the Unsullied have already left.

Jon: That’s a lovely thought…but I…must…regain my honour. Only by joining the Night’s Watch can I do so.

Arya: Piss on honour! You killed a monster Jon! You don’t need to regain anything.

Jon: Yes I do, sister. And I don’t want to infect you, any of you with that while I am doing so. It’s not that I want to be as far away from you all as possible…but I feel I must do so. Away from you! But not because I secretly hate you – I love you all, believe me.

Bran: ---

Sansa: That seems awfully suspicious.

Jon: Bye! ‘Blows kisses and runs onto the ship taking him North.’

Arya:…well, I’m off to probably die at sea! Bye guys!

Sansa: I’m off to throw the North into Civil War!

Bran: ---

Daenerys: Did they fall for it?

Jon: Ah! Don’t startle me!

Daenerys: Sorry!

Tormund: But did they fall for it?!

Jon: Yes, but keep your voices down! This time tomorrow, we’ll all be in Pentos – you two, me, Ghost and Drogon. Pity we had to leave Ser Davos behind-

Tormund: His sacrifice for our sakes shall be remembered.

Daenerys: ‘Sighs’ At least it’ll be good to see Rhaegal and Viserion again. I’ll have to thank the actress you got to play the Night’s King for keeping care of them.

Jon: I told you, Lady Crane can do anything. She kept this big lug and Mance going for several years, passing herself off as my first girlfriend. They generally thought she had been there all along!

‘All Laugh’

Daenerys: So Pentos and then…

Tormund: We’ll head off to Norvos, then down the Rhoyne Valley and along the Demon Road to Slaver’s Bay-

Daenerys: ‘Glares’

Tormund:…I mean the Bay of Dragons.

Jon: There we’ll pick up Daario and head straight to the Summer Islands to meet with everyone else. Boom!

Daenerys: The Great Escape from Westeros!

Tormund: We’ll be toasting to this for years!

Ghost: Woof!

Drogon: ‘Excited Roar’

- Meanwhile on the Summer Islands -

Robert: Ned Jr! When do you think your brother will be getting here? We’re running out of war stories that don’t involve old men!

Robb: Sometime soon I reckon, but I wouldn’t expect many great stories. Apparently they regressed to placing artillery in front of the infantry.

Tywin: They regressed to what? Even Aerys wasn’t that foolish!

Doran: Tell me about it.

Barristan: I should protest but this mead is spectacular. Would you like a refill, Blackfish?

Brynden: Don’t mind if I do! Would you care for any, Lady Olenna?

Olenna: I will pass.

Margaery: I’m so glad we decided to cut our losses and move here, everyone. Truly, how could life with those idiots ever compare to paradise.

Roose: Indeed.

Myrcella: Agreed!

Theon: Absolutely!

Oberyn: Righto! Who’s for Charades?

Chapter Text

‘The Throne Room of the Red Keep. Brandon Stark stands in chains before the Iron Throne, where Aerys is sat.’

Brandon: I won’t bow to you or any Targaryen! Your son kidnapped my sister!

Aerys: No?! If you won’t bow before a king, then you will cower before wildfire! Rossart, I command you to bring me all the wildfire IN THE WORLD!

Elia: Your Grace, no!

Barristan: ‘Sigh’ Lords and Ladies, a warm welcome for Pyromancer Rossart.

Aerys: Now, where were we…Ah yes! UTTER PYROMANIA!

Elia: Your Grace, please! If you have any affection for me as a gooddaughter, or any for your grandchildren – don’t do this! Please! The Starks and Baratheons will not stand for it; half the realm will rise in rebellion!

Aerys: Ah, but princess; would you really feel so much affection for poor Brandon if you knew what he has done! There’s someone I’m dying to introduce you to!

Barristan: Bring in Lady Ashara.

‘Ashara Dayne is dragged into the throne room. She is clearly pregnant.’

Brandon: Oh shit.

Elia: ‘Gasp’

Aerys: ‘Singing’ Ashara D!

Yes, it is she,

But not as you know her!

Read my lips

And come to grips,

With reality…

Yes, meet a girl from your past;

Whose many loves were too good to last!

Say hello to your expectant Ashara D!

Rossart: And her child!

Elia: Seven Hells! Ashara, did you do it? Did you finally manage to seduce Eddard?

Ashara: Well, you see Elia…I tried to tell you…but I…

Elia: That is his child, right? Ashara/Ned is a thing, right?

Brandon: There’s a funny story there-

Elia: NOOOOOO!

Aerys: ‘Still Singing’ So Ashara D

Turns out to be

In love with Brandon!

What a shock!

My cock is blocked!

Depressingly…

His failure to keep wearing pants,

Gives me an adequate chance -

To send him packing on a one-way trip,

So this ship takes a terminal dip!

His assets smelted,

His face hard-melted,

To the Seven Hells goeth heeeeeeeee!!!

Elia: How could you Ashara! You know how much this meant to me. And the fanbase!

Ashara:…it turned out Eddard had a really tiny penis.

Aerys: ‘Still Singing’ So long!

Rossart: Farewell!

Aerys: YOU NORTHERN SCUM! HAHAHAHAHA!!!

Chapter Text

Barely a week after the execution of Ned Stark, the city of King’s landing and its populace are sundered by a sudden firestorm. Among the casualties are the young King Joffrey and his siblings, the Queen Dowager Cersei Lannister, Lady/Princess Sansa Stark and presumably her sister Princess Arya, the High Septon and the entirety of the Small Council bar Lord Stannis Baratheon. Also lost are half a million Westerosi men, women and children, along with many of the institutions binding the Seven Kingdoms together.

The news is not received lightly, even among those factions with the most to gain from seeing King’s Landing burn. At Riverrun, Robb Stark is quick to execute Ser Jaime Lannister now that his sisters are presumed dead. War to the knife is now inevitable for his reborn kingdom. On Dragonstone, Stannis Baratheon broods and hears advice from many a supporter of his claim to the throne. The loss of King’s Landing is terrible to be sure, but there are great opportunities to be seized with King Joffrey’s death. At Highgarden the news is met with horror by King Renly Baratheon and his Tyrell allies, for this puts a serious wrench in his plans to sit on the Iron Throne. Soon his armies are on the march, else the Crownlands be seized by another. But the worst reactions occur at the Crossroads Inn, where Tywin Lannister and the Lords of the Westerlands are struck dumb by the tragedy. With the loss of King Joffrey and his siblings, which claimant should they now support?

Elsewhere, the news is met with varying responses. The court of the Eyrie is horrified at the news, but none more so than Lady Lysa Arryn who collapses for reasons unknown. Doran Martell greats the information with trepidation, understanding that while his vengeance against some might have been fulfilled it has come at great cost. Across the Narrow Sea the tale is met with confusion and despair, for the merchants from Braavos to Volantis understand the catastrophic impact this will have on trade, especially when combined with the rest of Westeros collapsing into civil war. Still, there is opportunity in the collapse of the Iron Throne for some.

Alone of all kingdoms and states, the people of the Iron Islands greet the news with joy to the man – for who now can stand against them?

Of course, there is still an important question to be answered – what destroyed King’s Landing? Was it the last act of Aerys the Mad King, as Jaime Lannister claimed just before his execution? Was it brought down by the Seven, in response to a city filled with corruption and debauchery? Was it the work of this new god from the East, whose followers crowd around Stannis Baratheon? Or was it linked to the stories just arriving from the east, tales of the last Targaryen and the rebirth of dragons.

The Claimants of the War of Four Kings

The Kingdom of the North (Robb Stark)

With the collapse of the cause of King Joffrey, Robb Stark has been able to turn his attentions to securing his young kingdom. All of the Riverlands have been retaken from the retreating Lannister forces, but to his consternation the Young Wolf was unable to prevent Lord Tywin from retreating in good order to the Westerlands. Still, the Lannister threat is lessened significantly trapped as it is behind the Golden Tooth and therefore the Starks are able to claim victory in their war for the time being. Robb’s negotiations with King Stannis Baratheon have sadly failed to bear fruit however, which has led the northern king to acknowledge King Renly’s right to the Iron Throne – especially when it became clear that King Stannis was not intending to punish the Lannisters for their crimes against his house. While the exact relationship of how the thrones will relate to each other is uncertain – whether it will be true independence or existence as a vassal king – hostilities between the two factions seem unlikely at this time. The agreement that any territories captured by Robb outside the Riverlands will be handed to Renly when possible has aided this, as well as the Stark’s confirmed uninterest in adding the Vale to his lands. While Robb is wary of attack from the Crownlands, the ongoing conflict in the Stormlands has lessened the threat significantly.

However, the situation outside the Riverlands is much more concerning for the North. Balon Greyjoy’s invasion has come as a nasty surprise to Houses such as Glover and Mormont, and the fall of Moat Cailin has at least temporarily stranded the Young Wolf in the south. While anywhere outside the western coastline itself seems unlikely to come under assault, it still creates a troublesome strategic issue for the young kingdom – especially given Robb’s reluctance to execute Theon Greyjoy. To cope with the various threats facing his kingdom, Robb has divided his host into three parts – one large host keeping watch on the Westerlands, one smaller host at Harrenhal and his own personal force marching to retake Moat Cailin. A large garrison has also been placed at Seagard, just in case.

King in the North: Robb Stark the First of his Name, King in the North, King of the Trident, Lord of Winterfell (1)
Queen in the North: None (2)
Crown Prince: Brandon Stark, Prince of Winterfell, Acting Lord of Winterfell (3)
Other Members of the Royal Family:
Prince Rickon Stark
Jon Snow (4)
Lady Catelyn Stark, nee Tully (5)

Advisers of the Kings Council (6)
Edmure Tully, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands (7)
Ser Brynden Tully ‘the Blackfish’ (8)
‘Great’ Jon Umber, Lord of Last Hearth
Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort (9)
Rickard Karstark, Lord of the Karhold (10)
Maege Mormont, Lady of Bear Island (11)
Lord Galbart Glover (12)
Ser Wylis Manderly
Jason Mallister, Lord of Seagard (13)
Ser Stevron Frey
Lord Tytos Blackwood
Lord Jonos Bracken
Ser Marq Piper

Other Figures of Note
Princess Arya Stark (14)
Lord Walder Frey (15)

1. Robb: Depressed over the deaths of Sansa and (as far as he knows) Arya. Furious over the Ironborn attacks on his homeland, which have potentially led him to make strategic errors in the splitting apart of his armies. Still in a better position than in canon, since certain people see no sane reason to betray him at the present time.
2. Robb has promised to wed a Frey, though as of yet this has not happened. The assumption is that he will probably marry upon either returning from the North.
3. Bran: Having very disturbing dreams, though is not yet interested in leaving Winterfell since Theon’s capture of Winterfell has been butterflied.
4. Jon: Status unknown, actually beyond the Wall as in canon.
5. Catelyn: Catelyn has not taken the deaths of Sansa and Arya well, and has been confined to her chambers in Riverrun as a result. Robb intends to have her escorted north to Winterfell once the road is clear again.
6. Robb has not yet created any kind of small council, due to the ongoing war. This section merely refers to those figures present on the war council, the most senior voice (aside from Robb himself) being Brynden Tully.
7. Edmure: Disgruntled at the perceived lack of respect afforded to him by his own lords, currently located in Riverrun dealing with any remaining bandits and outlaws.
8. Brynden: The closest thing Robb’s Kingdom has to a Hand of the King, commands the army located in the vicinity of the Golden Tooth.
9. Roose: Currently loyal to Robb and marching north with him. Thinking about his options for marriage, with Ramsay likely (actually) dead.
10. Rickard: Better off mentally than in canon, as he sees the deaths of Jaime and Co as justice for his sons.
11. Maege: Displeased about the fall of Bear Island, though the unconfirmed status of her daughters has given her some hope.
12. Galbart: NOT HAPPY.
13. Jason: Very worried about the resurgent Ironborn threat and has returned to Seagard to ensure its safety.
14. Arya: Presumed dead, has actually been taken along with the retreating Lannister army to the Westerlands.
15. Walder: Not particularly happy, as he was hoping for a longer war in the southern Riverlands to damage Tully power.

The Seven Kingdoms (Stannis Baratheon)

King Stannis Baratheon is furious.

That is not news, but it bares mentioning anyway. He is particularly furious on this occasion due to the compromises he has been required to make in order to gain his throne. If it were not for the actions of his brother and the Starks, he would never have had to pardon the Lannisters (not that they have been any help) or various Stormlords in the wake of Randyll Tarly’s defeat.

Stannis Baratheon began this war as perhaps the weakest of the claimants, with only the lords of the Narrow Sea pledging themselves to his banner. However, the destruction of King’s Landing proved a bitter godsend for his cause, for it left Lord Tywin Lannister with no good options beside pledging his allegiance – lest he and the Westerlands be slowly carved up between the Riverlands and the Reach. With the additional unintentional aid of the Ironborn, this pledge has tied down the armies of his enemies and brought him time – time that he has made sure to use valuably.

While he had hoped that Renly himself would head south to face him, Randyll Tarly was by no means a poor second prize. Though he is loath to rely on the services of his advisor, Melisandre of Asshai – especially with rumours of her involvement in King’s Landing being trumpeted by his brother – he is also a practical man and understands well how risky his position is. So, when he was presented with the opportunity to kill Lord Tarly without a risk of failure, he took it and capitalised well on the disorder caused in a daring night attack. While the battle was costly for his existing army, he has been quick to ‘forgive’ those Stormlords who now rose to his cause to the point where his army now stands close to Renly’s own in size. And with Mace Tyrell off besieging the Westerlands, that army may be all Renly has to aid him.

King of Westeros: Stannis Baratheon the First of his Name, King of Westeros, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Lord of Storm’s End and Protector of the Realm (1)
Queen of Westeros: Queen Consort Selyse Baratheon, nee Florent, Lady of Storm’s End (2)
Crown Princess: Shireen Baratheon, Princess of Dragonstone (3)

Lords of the Small Council (4)
Hand of the King: Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock (5)
Maester: Pylos (6)
Master of Coin: Ser Justin Massey (7)
Master of Laws: Alester Florent, Lord of Brightwater Keep (8)
Master of Ships: Monford Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark (9)
Master of Whispers: None, de-facto Melisandre of Asshai
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Vacant (10)
Advisor: Melisandre of Asshai (11)

Other Figures of Note
Tyrion Lannister (12)
Ser Kevan Lannister (13)
Ser Daven Lannister (14)
Ser Gregor Clegane (15)
Ser Richard Horpe (16)

1. Stannis: Stannis is debating where to place his capital once the war is completed. While Storm’s End works as a seat for a small kingdom, the King of Westeros really needs a larger and richer seat to call his own.
2. Selyse: Currently at Dragonstone, slightly less dedicated to Melisandre in this timeline due to the whole King’s Landing thing.
3. Shireen: Stannis has ordered Pylos to focus on teaching her statecraft, in case he never gains a son.
4. Stannis created his Small Council following the deal with House Lannister, as a means to shut up the Florents.
5. Tywin: Tywin has been hit hardly by the events at King’s Landing and elsewhere, being driven to drink for the first time in his life. While he remains the leading presence in any council of the Westerlands Lords, his only remaining son has found more and more decisions being left to him as his father sinks into depression.
6. Pylos: A last minute arrival from the Citadel before war was declared on Renly.
7. Justin: Stannis regrets this decision, though his options outside of Lannisters were limited.
8. Alester: Angry that he is no longer the Hand of the King, which was granted to Tywin without a moment’s hesitation by Stannis. Has been given this position to calm him down for the moment.
9. Monford: Stannis considered giving this post to Davos, but relented when faced with the possibility of any lords defecting to the more powerful Renly.
10. Stannis will create a Kingsguard sooner or later, but at the moment has not bothered.
11. Melisandre: Blamed by many for the destruction of King’s Landing, her existence nearly destroyed the Baratheon/Lannister alliance in the cradle until word of Jaime Lannister’s revelation reached the Westerlands. Still hated by most of Westeros and Stannis has instructed her to remain quiet for the moment lest his cause by damaged by her presence.
12. Tyrion: Has had to step up to the plate as the future Lord of the Westerlands, dealing with the organisation of Casterly Rock as his father prepares to face down the advancing Mace Tyrell.
13. Kevan: The sole Lannister with Stannis at present and therefore acting Hand of the King. Grieving the death of Lancel.
14. Daven: Assisting Tywin in preparing the army to face Mace Tyrell.
15. Gregor: Was wounded by archers in the retreat to the Westerlands.
16. Richard: De-facto Kingsguard for Stannis at the present time.

The Seven Kingdoms (Renly Baratheon)

Renly has been roused to action by the fall of King’s Landing, quickly moving his army northeast from Highgarden to seize the Crownlands for himself, a process hampered by half the Crownlords now being deaf. While he has mostly succeeded in this aim – to the point of holding what remains of King’s Landing, it has come at the cost of leaving his flank open which his enemies have unfortunately noticed. News of the arrival of King Stannis Baratheon in the Stormlands, as well as the first probing attacks by Lannisters in the northwest Reach were met with dismay by his council. After a great deal of debate, Renly elected to lead a small force himself to secure the remaining parts of the Crownlands, while Lord Randyll Tarly leads the greater part of the host south to deal with Stannis. In the meantime, Lord Mace Tyrell would raise a second host at Highgarden, which would be combined with parts of Renly’s main host moving back down the Roseroad.

Results have been mixed.

The campaign in the Crownlands and northwest Reach were more than successful, with Mace Tyrell going even further than instructed and marching into the southern Westerlands. Cornfield fell quickly before the size of his host and Crakehall seems likely to join it – which has caused Lord Roland Crakehall great consternation. Randyll Tarly’s campaign has collapsed into disaster however, as by some unknown means Stannis was able to assassinate the man before falling on his army in the middle of the night. While it was a costly victory for Stannis, it has been far from a pyrrhic one – much of Randyll’s host has been brought to the side of the elder Baratheon and several previously loyal Stormlords have deserted Renly now that their sons are hostage. While the combined armies of King Renly Baratheon still far outnumber his enemies, the gap has lessened and the blow to morale has been severe. News of the fall of Storm’s End has only worsened the situation.

King of Westeros: Renly Baratheon the First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Lord of Storm’s End, Defender of the Faith and Protector of the Realm (1)
Queen of Westeros: Queen Consort Margaery Baratheon, nee Tyrell (2)
Crown Prince: None (3)

Lords of the Small Council (4)
Hand of the King: Mace Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Mander (5)
Grand Maester: Gormon (6)
Master of Coin: Mathis Rowan
Master of Laws: Vacant following the death of Randyll Tarly (7)
Master of Ships: Paxter Redwyne (8)
Master of Whispers: Vacant, following the defection of Bryce Caron (9)
Lord Commander of the Rainbow Guard: Ser Loras Tyrell, the White (10)

Other Figures of Note
Willas Tyrell, Acting Lord of Highgarden (11)

1. Renly: Very worried indeed, since even a man as unknowledgeable as Renly Baratheon understands the danger of a hostile army in control of his ancestral home, particularly when that army could move to cut him off from reinforcements if he is not careful. Preparing to move south to contest his brother, while in the meantime gathering the remaining troops of the Crownlords to his banner.
2. Margaery: Doing a very good job charming the Crownlords and the party King Robb has sent to negotiate. Not showing anything yet, however…
3. ‘Cough’
4. Renly formerly established his council upon taking the site of King’s Landing, though certain figures (such as Mace and Loras) already had their positions.
5. Mace: High on victory, news of Randyll Tarly’s death has yet to reach him.
6. Gormon: Appointed by the Citadel, in an election undoubtably free of outside pressure. Currently at Highgarden.
7. Renly is debating who to give the post to, but leaning towards a Crownlord if possible.
8. Paxter: Has fully joined Renly’s cause following the deaths of his sons at King’s Landing. Has gone completely on the warpath in his grief, spending ridiculous amounts of gold to prepare the Redwyne Fleet for the fight against Stannis. Renly has promised him Melisandre’s head, who is widely blamed in the Reach for the tragedy.
9. Bryce Caron’s defection did not surprise Renly, since the man had been a reluctant follower of his to begin with. Still, the loss of the Dornish Passes is concerning.
10. Loras: Leading the remnants of Randyll Tarly’s host northwards, where it will combine with Renly’s own host. Not in the best state of mind.
11. Willas: Holding court in Highgarden, ensuring that the actual lands of House Tyrell do not go the way of the Riverlands in this conflict. Is currently in discussion with Oberyn Martell, who has travelled to the Tyrell castle at the request of his brother.

The Kingdom of the Isles (Balon Greyjoy)

The Iron Islands were the only realm of Westeros to great the destruction of King’s Landing with cheers and approval, none moreso than Balon Greyjoy. Having long brooded over the shame of his first failed rebellion, the Lord of Pyke has thought long on how best to wage his second one and sees great opportunity in the outbreak of war between Wolf, Lion and Stag.

Though he had been planning to revenge himself on the Starks in particular long before the events of 298AC, Balon was quick to take advantage of Robb Stark’s quest to defend his Tully relatives. Scarcely had news of King’s Landing arrived before the Iron Fleet was at sail, first in a daring raid against Moat Cailin to trap the North’s armies in the south and then up and down the western coast, burning and pillaging all that could be found. Still, some of the more sensible Ironborn have questioned what exactly his long term plans are, since the man has refrained from saying exactly what his long term plans are…

King of the Isles: Balon Greyjoy, the Ninth of his Name since the Grey King, King of the Isles and the North, King of Salt and Rock, Son of the Sea Wind and Lord Reaper of Pyke (1)
Queen of the Isles: Alannys Harlaw, Queen of the Iron Island, Lady of Pyke
Heir: Disputed (2)
Other Members of the Royal Family:
Prince Theon Greyjoy (3)
Princess Asha Greyjoy (4)
Euron Greyjoy (5)
Victarion Greyjoy, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet
Aeron Greyjoy, the Damphair

1. Balon: Gleeful over the damage he has inflicted on the North, but now considering which of his conquests to fight for and which to abandon. Bear Island looks to be the likeliest of the former, while Deepwood Motte will be put to the torch the moment his men have collected enough lumber from the region. Also considering the worth of battles elsewhere, with Fair Isle standing as a remarkably tempting target.
2. Balon himself supports the claim of his daughter Asha, but whether or not she is likely to inherit over her uncles is another matter. The existence of Theon has sadly been forgotten by most Ironborn.
3. Theon: Locked in an apartment at Riverrun and fearing for his life. Has suffered a mental breakdown after realising how little his family apparently cares for him.
4. Asha: Wishes to rescue her brother, but is also aware that is almost certainly impossible since the Starks are keeping mum of his whereabouts. Has won a great deal of respect for herself following the Capture of Bear Island.
5. Euron: Well that would be telling…

Neutral Factions during the War of Four Kings

The Vale of Arryn (Robert Arryn)

With the madness of Lysa Arryn apparent, the Lords of the Vale have finally found the courage to dispose her of the regency of Robert Arryn. While there remains some debate over whether the Vale should involve themselves in the War of Four Kings, the general consensus is that remaining neutral is the best course of action, for now. This has not pleased any of the claimants and has caused a notable decline in opinions of the region.

Lord of the Eyrie: Robert Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, True Warden of the East (1)
Lord Regent of the Vale of Arryn: ‘Bronze’ Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone, Lord Protector of the Eyrie and the Vale of Arryn (2)
High Steward of the Vale: Lord Nestor Royce, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon (3)
Knight of the Gate: Ser Donnel Waynwood (4)
Envoy to the Court of Robb Stark: Ser Marwyn Belmore (5)

Other Figures of Note
Lady Lysa Arryn, nee Tully (6)
Mya Stone (7)

1. Robert: Has taken being separated from his mother really badly. Well aware that certain lords expect him to die sooner rather than later.
2. Yohn: Very worried about the health of young Robert, who he has removed from the Eyrie to foster at Runestone. Despite being sympathetic to the Starks, he is in no hurry to support any of the kings due to neither Renly and Stannis painting themselves as worth following.
3. Nestor: Very much annoyed, as he believes he himself should have gained the regency for Robert Arryn. Yohn has calmed the man for the moment with several offers of betrothals.
4. Donnel: One of the last appointments made by Lysa, which the regents have seen no regent to reverse due to Donnel’s competence.
5. Marwyn: Given this position by Nestor and Yohn for the purpose of getting rid of him, which Marwyn is entirely aware of.
6. Lysa: Has not taken Petyr’s death well and the separation of her from her son has only worsened that. Currently confined to a set of rooms in the Gates of the Moon, though the court has discussed sending her to Riverrun for recuperation.
7. Mya: Currently remains in Nestor Royce’s household, though a few quiet discussions have been held on whether or not the only known daughter of King Robert Baratheon has additional value.

The Principality of Dorne (Doran Martell)

While he has remained polite to the envoys of both Baratheon claimants, Doran Martell has made it clear that he would keep his lands out of this conflict. Some of the lords outside of the southernmost kingdom have accused him of cowardice, but the more sensible know that the brother of Elia Martell simply despises both sides – though certain rumours point to him being slightly more favourable to the cause of King Renly.

Aside from ensuring his own lands stay free of the War of Four Kings, Doran has quietly paid heed to tales coming from across the Narrow Sea, though he has yet to make any blatant moves.

Prince of Dorne: Doran Martell, Prince of Sunspear (1)
Consort: Mellario (estranged)
Heiress: Princess Arianne Martell (2)
Other Members of the Prince’s Family:
Prince Quentyn Martell (3)
Prince Trystane Martell (4)
Prince Oberyn Martell (5)

Castellan of Sunspear: Ser Manfrey Martell

1. Doran: Pleased that the Baratheons appear to content to murder each other without him having to lift a finger. While he is delighted at the fates of Tywin Lannister’s children, he has confided that he believes the destruction of King’s Landing to be far too large a price. He is also increasingly wary of how the destruction came to be, since he and his brother have been unable to dismiss the story purported by Jaime Lannister.
2. Arianne: On better terms with her father, who has seen fit to tell her of his plans in the wake of the destruction of King’s Landing. Possibilities for her marriage have been discussed, since the original scheme is now known to be unworkable.
3. Quentyn: Doran has conversely yet to tell Quentyn of the change in plans, though he has refrained for the time being from sending him to seek out Queen Daenerys.
4. Trystane: A happy boy of 13, not yet betrothed.
5. Oberyn: Much like his brother, Oberyn is concerned over the destruction of King’s Landing – though he was more reluctant to blame it directly on the Mad King. Currently at Highgarden, ensuring that the borders of Dorne and the Reach stay peaceful at this time.

Chapter Text

The Westerosi Raj

Part of the Dominions of Her Majesty Victoria, by the Grace of God, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, Empress of India and some other places that aren't as memorable as India.

Monarch: Victoria
Viceroy: Tywin Lannister, Marquess of the Westerlands, KG
Secretary of State: James Bigwood, MP for Finsbury East

Status: Imperial Political Structure, where local rulers are allowed to govern as a quasi-federation under the suzerainty of The British Crown exercised through the Viceroy of Westeros.
Capital: Lannisport (King's Landing has been taken as personal property of the Crown).

Anthem: "God Save the Queen" or "The Lands that Bloom in Spring"
Motto: "Aut fidus aut!" (or alternatively, "Whatever happens, we have got, the Maxim, and they have not")

Common Languages: English (Official language), Westerosi (the 'Common Tongue'), High Valyrian.
Religion: Sevenism, Westerosi Druidism (Old Gods), Anglican Christianity, Hinduism. (The Drowned Faith has been declared illegal by Act of Parliament).

Major Provinces of Westeros

• Colony of the Westerlands, under direct Viceroy Administration (Capital: Lannisport)
• Colony of the Northmarch, under Governor Merryweather (Capital: Highgarden)
• Colony of the Southmarch, under Governor Beesbury (Capital: Oldtown)
• Colony of the Stormlands, under Governor Baratheon (Capital: Storm's End)
• Colony of the Riverlands, under Governor Tully (Capital: Riverrun)
• Colony of Dorne, under Lieutenant-Governor Forthill (Capital: Sunspear)

Minor Provinces of Westeros

• British Iron Islands, under British Political Agent
• City of King's Landing
• Narrow Sea Territories

Chapter Text

When King Robert Baratheon returned from his sad quest to retrieve his beloved Lyanna, it was to great a realm damaged by war and traumatised by horrendous bloodshed. He immediately set to repairing the situation, throwing himself so heavily into matters of statecraft that his foster father Jon Arryn wondered openly what he had seen in Dorne. Aside from making time to attend the burials of those lost during the war, he made a special effort to repair his relationship with Lord Eddard Stark, which had been damaged following the Sack of King's Landing. Lord Eddard had been wounded and the Trident and unable to come with Robert to save his sister and the sight of her body brought him to tears. In his grief he was able to forgive King Robert however, especially when the man promised to see to it that the killers of Princess Elia and her children were brought to justice. By arranging his own marriage to Lady Cersei Lannister and releasing her brother Ser Jaime Lannister from the Kingsguard (it would be impolite to say he was kicked out), he was able to convince Lord Tywin Lannister to have said killers handed over to the King's Justice in private executions. The bones were shipped to Dorne with his deepest apologies for their 'horrendous crimes'. Prince Doran Martell accepted the peace offering and never again challenged the new Baratheon king, though he remained somewhat suspicious of the Lannisters to his dying day. When questioned on his insistence on executing Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch, King Robert merely repied that the realm had seen enough 'dead babies'. To continue on with Robert's relation with Lord Eddard, the two...

...turn now to King Robert's relationship with his brothers Stannis and Renly. While King Robert had been on record as having a poor relationship with his younger brothers prior to his fateful visit to Dorne, whatever happened there was apparently enough to turn this around. In front of the court he acknowledged how poorly he had treated Stannis and swore to honour his "immense loyalty and honesty". Not only did he grant Stannis the ancestral Baratheon seat of Storm's End, but he also promised to find him "a loyal and sensible wife. One who will not sneak out behind your back or be really, really stupid. Ahem." Renly was in the meantime promised...

...on the first day of 284AC, due to the King's insistence on keeping a proper period of mourning. While the relationship would cool in later years, the king and his bride were by all accounts very happy together, quickly being blessed with twins clearly of the Baratheon lineage. They would be named Steffon and Lyonel and the realm rejoiced at the newborn princes, who quickly proved themselves to be quite the handful. In later years they would be joined by Princess Myrcella, Princess Joanna and Prince Tommen - who's birth proved difficult enough for Queen Cersei to threaten King Robert with strangling any future child he put in her, because "enough was enough!" The King apparently fainted at the threat, but quickly agreed and not only because the succession was secure. While the King no longer 'enjoyed local women' like in his younger days, he quietly kept track of his only illegitemate child...

...while the Greyjoy Rebellion was a short conflict, it was also a bloody one. After holding a vote with the Great Lords of the Realm ("Unlike my predecessor, I understand that executing a Great Lord should not be purely a royal decision"), Lord Balon Greyjoy was executed, his remaining brothers shipped to the Wall and his children taken to Winterfell and Storm's End respectively. The Iron Islands themselves...

...the great irony of the Battle of Dragonstone was that King Robert had once confided in his sons that they should avoid strangling anyone if they had another option, since "from personal experience" he could confirm it was a horrendous way to kill a man. In one of his brief moments of weakness, the King admitted that the memory of the incident still haunted him. For 'King' Aegon to be killed by Prince Steffon in such a manner disturbed the kindhearted King, though he still congratulated his son on the victory and assured him that he did what was right. From what is recorded, we know that Prince Steffon himself was not too bothered by the incident, though considering how his wife Princess Sansa meeted him when he returned from Dragonstone, there may be a clear reason for this. And so the Sixth and Final Blackfyre Rebellion was brought to a close. In later years, most citizens of Westeros would forget there had even been...

...the importation of the first fireworks from Yi-Ti brought great excitement to the realm, and...

...these efforts were assisted by an unlikely pair, them being Maester Viserys and Septa Daenerys, the remaining children of the Mad King who had been raised on King Robert's instruction in their respective orders. The evidence presented by the two was strong enough for Qyburn to be executed the following morning, bringing an end...

...apparently the news of his namesake's exploits made King Robert shake his head in shock, before making a quick toast to his wife. This was followed by an assurance that he was happy with five children...

...the Battle of the Wall was a resounding victory for the men of Westeros, most of all their magnificent king who had so bravely faced down the Queen of the Others, resisting her corrupting charms with his steadfast devotion to his wife, his realm and the Seven, while Lord Eddard snuck up behind her with a cleaver. It would go down in history as the greatest battle of men, with all who fought in it swiftly becoming legendary across the world. The only people disappointed were Prince Tommen - grumpy that he never got to fight - and Brandon Stark, who remarked that it ended far too anticlimatically. King Robert apparently laughed...

...and so Lord Tywin Lannister, Lion of the West passed away painlessly, surrounded by his loving family...

...and so Ser Jorah Mormont, former Lord of Bear Island passed away in intense agony, pulled apart by elephants...

...later in life, it is recorded that King Robert would only rarely speak of the Rebellion, except to describe it as horrible business. Lord Eddard, if he was present, would swiftly remind him that he was entirely in the right and had nothing to be ashamed off. If not, Lord Stannis was up to the task, though apparently his attempts were only half-hearted. Occasionally, even Queen Cersei...

...the discovery of a New World brought great joy to Westeros and all too quickly the Lords Hightower, Redwyne, Lannister and assorted Ironmen were ordering fleets to be prepared for the purpose of discovery. Many of the ships were named after the great explorers of Westeros; Lomas Longstrider, Elissa Farman and the sadly shortlived Arya Stark. But the year 354AC also brought great sorrow to Westeros, as finally the noble King Robert was called up to sit at the side of the Father Above. What finally killed the greatest king of Westeros has long been debated, though the common belief is that it was merely a nastier than usual winter flu. We know that regardless, his passing was mercifully easy, due to the attention of several of the finest Maesters in the realm. King Robert did live long enough to hear about the New World, that we know and apparently marvelled at its existence, joking at calling it Farthos (as we know, the name Floridos quickly gathered steam) and taking himself, the deceased Lords Arryn and Stark, and his brothers and sons on a great expedition. Sadly, that never would never happen and the King passed mere days later. His last word in recorded as being "Stannis", perhaps due to asking for some water. The High Septon...

...in future, many descendents of King Robert would take on his name as a second regnal title, to honour the man who truly built the modern Westeros. This practise has continued to this day.

Chapter Text

On behalf of his most benevolent majesty Bu Hya, seventeenth God-Emperor of the Azure Dynasty, Defender of Mankind, Bearer of the Silver Torque, Rightful Prince of Yin, Favoured of Heaven, Repeller of the Barbarians, Lawmaker, Lawgiver, Supreme Protector-General, Giver of the Cold Harvest, Bringer of the Spring and Soldier of Light; I, Jen Tari present this record of the domains of the Golden Empire in the fifty-sixth year of his reign, may it last for evermore. I have attempted to capture the character of each province, city and fort of Yi-Ti and the love of all peoples for their most-esteemed ruler. Also presented are catalogues of many current situations in the Empire, such as worship, military strength, the state of public works and the glorious beauty of our land.

May it please all who read it.

- Yin and Lesser Yin -

Yin or Yiness in the Old Tiquin Script is by far the greatest and largest city in the world, even compared to Volantis in the west and Asshai in the South. Only the City of Valyria came close at the peak of that fallen freehold’s history; but while their prosperity was built on the extortion of other nations, Yin’s originates from the love of her God-Emperor and the dutiful nature of her people. There is no better testament to what mankind can accomplish when ruled by a true leader, even when faced with fearsome odds.

Yin is not the oldest city in Yi-Ti by a considerable amount, even if one excludes abandoned and resettled cities such as Hin and Lesser Jinqi. It does however have the most detailed history and rightfully so for it has always been the rightful capital of the Empire. The City is built on either side of the Yi River’s delta, though certain districts have extended onto the small islands of the river mouth. The two sides of the city are connected by the Fay Bridge, a titanic construction built on the orders of Bu Fay, fifteenth God-Emperor of the Azure Dynasty. The bridge was constructed to the specifications of Ghi Nhaenys almost one hundred and fifty years ago, a former Ghiscari slave who was granted his freedom and a noble household after his prodigious talent for architecture came to be known. The school Ghi founded to provide this service to the court after his death still exists, with its main campus located slightly to the south of the bridge on the eastern side. The school of Legalism also maintains their main campus nearby, a building that many of the Empire’s greatest men have passed through at some point.

The lifeblood of Yin is its port, connecting it to the rest of the world and the cities of the Empire not yet reachable by road. On the day that I recorded this information, the port was crowded with ships from innumerable locations; Asshai, New Ghis, Volantis, even legendary Westeros. It was like watching a great tapestry of world trade unfolded before me, accompanied by a million tongues that no mortal could ever hope to entirely comprehend. Among those ships were the magnificent green sails of the imperial fleet; with the exception of those ships garrisoning other regions, ensuring our continuing relationship with Leng and dealing with the situation on Great Moraq. The Imperial Legion also maintains two large forts in the city, on either side of the river (Si Bu and Si Yin respectively).

The people of Yin are well fed on the prosperity of the city, with a large majority sporting the soft features inherent in the nobility of the land. Uniquely among the populace of the Empire, the common language is the Old Tiquin script due to the God-Emperor’s own efforts; though the more recent ‘Yinian’ tongue has a notable presence in the vicinity of the harbour. The poorer elements of the population live towards the south of the city, with the hinterlands of the eastern side around the Imperial Palace reserved exclusively for the Noble Houses. As one would expect all buildings of this area are magnificent; though none compare to the Imperial Palace that almost exists as its own separate city. Only those with the personal invitation of the God-Emperor may enter his palace, I myself have only been granted entrance twice – which is nonetheless the greatest honour of my life.

An analysis of Yin would not be complete without a mention of its daughter city to the northeast; Lesser Yin, built up over the last century around the Imperial fort of Si Ren. This city is governed as an extension of Yin itself by the emperor; nonetheless it has developed its own unique culture based around the practises of the army. The people of this city speak the ‘Yinian’ script exclusively, with only one small palace located here to provide an intermediary for the God-Emperor when dealing with Lesser Yin.

- The Heartlands -

The Heartlands (also known as the southern provinces) is the region of the Empire watered by the Yi River, an area that stretches around 450 miles across from its furthest points. The cities of Yin, Lesser Yin, Si Qo, Zedin and Bequi (technically outside Yi’s reach but included for simplicity) dominate the land; each of them a thriving metropolis under the God-Emperor’s care. As with most great settlements of Yi-Ti each of them (excluding Yin) originated as an imperial fort, though only Si Qo has not been renamed in recognition of its status. Outside the cities, the Heartlands are by far the most prosperous region of the Empire; the people want for little and attacks by enemy or basilisk colony are exceedingly rare. Many of the richer citizens are able to indulge themselves in the fine arts and politics, content that their own lands are tended to by slaves and servants. The common language is the Yinian tongue, though Bequi is still somewhat stubborn in using their outdated tongue. The common religion is worship of the God-Emperor and his ancestors, as it should be.

Zedin is one of the smaller cities in Yi-Ti, having only truly developed in the last century due to the construction and design of the ‘Ruby Road’ by Frey Hoster, a former Westerosi slave granted freedom for his skill at construction. The court will doubtless know Frey well, for his later work at improving the Empire’s forts. Zedin is mostly known for its mines, which while not the greatest in the kingdom are close to the coast and therefore an excellent source for trade and artistry.

Bequi is the second of the Empire’s great coastal cities and the most junior, having been founded only three hundred years ago in an attempt to improve the sugar trade. While the greater aim has had mixed results – some of which can be blamed on recent events such as the destruction of Valyria and the Winter of Doom – it cannot be doubted that the city itself had grown tremendously. Several great palaces exist in the vicinity of the city, along with the Jade Lighthouse constructed 40 years ago to guide travellers through ‘the Godless Gap’.

I have already covered Yin and Lesser Yin and will discuss Si Qo later in this document with the other cities of the Golden Road.

- The Western Provinces -

The Western Provinces is the smallest region of the Empire, containing no true cities following the War of Hyaddon and the Treaty of Si Bar. Aside from farmlands and forts, little here is of note – the people are relatively rich in comparison to the Northern and Eastern provinces and trade continues to flow through the region – particularly after the construction of the Red Canal, ordered by the wisdom of the God-Emperor grandfather. The Emerald Road also runs through the south of this region, connecting the Empire to realms further west. Loyalty to the Empire is extreme here, after the injustices foisted upon this people during the last war; if hypothetically the war was to begin again, I would imagine that a massive number of menfolk from this region could be enlisted to the army. The region is watered by the Hero’s River, named of course for the legendary Hyrkoon whose name our enemies have blackened for their own ends.

There is one noteworthy location here however; the abandoned city of Hin. The ‘twin city of Yin’ as it is sometimes called is legendary, partly for the beauty of the area it resides in and the fascinating state of the ruins themselves, but also due to its status at the birthplace of the Hyrkoon. Much of the stone has taken on a blue tint in the area, due to minerals in the soil and climate. It is no coincidence that the legendary explorer Thu Gai described it as “A sapphire city, half as old as time.” Hin is indeed very old, though it is not the oldest settlement in Yi-Ti – that honour must go to Jinqi, Lesser Jinqi or formerly Asabhad. Unlike many ‘legendary ruins’, Hin has never been seen as cursed and indeed does maintain a small population to this day. It has just never been a target for government improvement or a hub for trade.

- Of the Realm of Hyrkoon -

Anti-Hyrkoon sentiment is at a colossal high in the Empire, after the treachery committed during the War of Hyaddon by our enemy. I will not recount those events here since the court doubtless knows them better than I, aside from a confirmation that the attack left much of the west and northwestern regions in ruins. It is only by the great cunning of our generals and our God-Emperor that Tiqui was never captured. Asabhad was however lost to us as part of the horrendous price for peace, though Hin was thankfully spared the same fate.

Recent years have seen a slow build up in military strength throughout the regions bordering Hyrkoon, including the construction of the twin Si Hyr forts that function as spearheads pointed at the enemy. I know within my bones that war will soon be upon the Empire again, for we have rested from the last conflict and are ready to revenge ourselves on those who deny our might.

- The Golden Road -

Out of all achievements made in the last hundred years, the Golden Road must be the greatest. It stretches almost four hundred miles through jungle and treacherous terrain, connecting the two halves of our Empire. Three cities have arisen alongside it, testaments to the greatness of Yi-Ti’s achievement in forging this path. Every day the road will see travellers from all corners of the Empire and the greater world journey along it, now free to not worry about savages or basilisks lurking in the gloom.

Of course, such an achievement required the assistance of many men to be completed. First of course is our God-Emperor, for conceiving the idea and commanding that it be done so. Second are the architects of Ghi Nhaenys’ school, among them Frey Hoster and his sons. Thirdly are the Imperial Legions and the Protector-Generals responsible for organising them. And lastly are the many slaves, among them Westerosi, Ghiscari and Lorathi who willingly gave their lives for this achievement. Their sacrifice was not in vain.

Si Qo, Si Basi and Si Tiq are all very similar cities, built along the road around already existing imperial forts. Their inhabitants are all very similar, being a hybrid of the rougher people of the northern provinces and the cultured civilisation to the south. Tradespeak and Yinian are dually spoken by the people here, along with a variety of different religions including worship of the Old Pantheon, the God-Emperor and the young religion of Quenhaci. The Military is notably weak throughout them (consistently providing the smallest part of the Imperial Legions), possibly because of the pacifism inherent in the latter faith. While that is not a problem at the present time, it may need to be addressed in the future lest the road fall truly into corruption and debauchery. Si Basi is the unofficial capital of the three cities, with the ‘Newfort’ also dancing to the will of Prince Fai.

Notable landmarks in the region aside from the cities include Tear Lake, a deceptively beautiful body of water that is in reality stagnant and poison. Only fools drink from the depths of this cursed lake, though numerous smugglers have tried using it as a convenient store for their gold – only to run afoul of the poison and never retrieve it. The black-stone ‘Emperor’s Tomb’ is also located in the area, but to the west of the road which is designed to swerve around it. As is custom, the monument is sealed except for when its use becomes required and forbidden to all except the his Imperial Majesty and the Ratoq Order.

- Of the Deep Jungles and the Hidden City -

East of the Heartlands and the Golden Road, there is a roughly circular region of the jungle that is truly inhospitable to human life. The reason for this is unknown, though it is known that the normal trees will suddenly give way to pale and twisted varieties that seem to absorb all light from the area. These trees are not immune to the blow of axe – though their sap can be poison – but seem to grow back alarmingly quickly, often while the intruder is sleeping. Usually I would dismiss this as a mere myth, but it cannot be denied that more people have vanished in this ‘province’ than all others put together. Even the woods outside ‘the Heart of the Jungle’ are notorious for being ‘cursed’ and are a favoured choice for those complimenting suicide. Basilisks are also extremely common in the area, and the woodsmen of the nearby regions speak of even more deadly beasts.

Legend states that this cursed region of the jungle surrounds an ancient city unnameable to any but the secret race who built it. It is said to not be that large, but built into the sides of a great ‘lonely mountain’ hidden by clouds from mortal eyes. It is also said to be built of the same black stone as the Emperor’s Tomb, only sculpted into buildings and dwellings slightly too small for a normal man. The reason for this is again unknown, though the old tales speak of a sealed demon; cousin to the Hidden Ones of Leng. I will speak no more of it, lest we draw its attention here.

- The Northern Provinces -

The Northern Provinces are the largest and perhaps the populous region of the Empire, excluding of course the massive percentage of the God-Emperor’s subjects who live in cities. That does not mean they are the greatest however; this region is perpetually fragmented under the control of hundreds of lesser princes, many of them far too lax in obeying the commands from Yin. This is not entirely their fault admittedly, since control of this large area is split between three distant cities and of them only Kitzin is appropriately placed to issue commands. The most northern areas are also frequently subject to attacks by barbarians from across the border; too many of them have Jhoqos Nhai blood flowing through them as a result. While these attacks have happened less in the last twenty years - for reasons I will discuss in a later section – it cannot be denied that past events have cast a long shadow over the provinces.

The culture of the Empire’s most northerly citizens is hardly unified, with the people of many areas barely understanding the greatness of the civilisation they belong to. Some even do not understand the divine authority of the God-Emperor himself! Perhaps this horrifying revelation is due to the lack of unity in this region, for many of the towns here do not speak the same language. Variants of ‘Tradespeak’ are sadly the most common; though during my travels I encountered villages speaking Old Tiquin, Jhoqosi and even Hyrkoonese. Religion is similarly not unified, with the presence of numerous cults that would be forbidden in the south. Worryingly the Church of Starry Wisdom seems to be one of the forbidden sects that has emerged here, though my guards were able to rout it out whenever we encountered a Stone-Worshipper.

The land of the Northern Provinces is prosperous and admittedly very beautiful, with rolling plains that appear to catch fire under a decent sunset. A thousand small rivers snake through the region, several of them heading to the marshlands before the Five Forts, the Forsaken River and the Great Red River in the east. The Shrinking Sea is also located slightly over the border, now split into two lakes as it continues to vanish.

While I will discuss Tiqui and Trader Town in their own section below, ‘the Farmer’s City’ of Kitzin deserves some notice as well. While technically the second largest city of the Empire (after Yin), much of it is made up of interconnected farms that exist more similarly to allied villages than a great city. Only a small part of Kitzin is truly organised, with the highlight undoubtedly being the former palace of the false Emperor Ran Fi; now partly a ruin, partly the headquarters for the Society of Hibasi which has flourished in the region. While their ‘philosophy’ of Impartial Care may be seen as strange and occasionally treasonous by those of who live in the south, it must be admitted that they have significant influence over much of the population – including several of the princes.

- Tiqui and Trader Town -

Tiqui is the second largest city in the Empire and has for a long time been Yin’s only true challenger to the title of capital, even if the city is only two thirds the size of Yin and away from the coastal trade routes. This is purely because of its control over both the Sand and Golden Roads, giving it the first picks of any trade coming into Yi-Ti from Hyrkoon or the northern Barbarians. For many land travellers it is the last step on the great trade routes with even great Yin being an afterthought, though this has begun to change in recent years. Still, the markets in Tiqui are some of the largest in the world and more taxes come from this region than anywhere else in the Empire, bar Yin which of course controls the sea routes.

In structure and layout, the city is a northern reflection of Yin, with the only noticeable difference being the lack of a river and therefore a harbour as well. Colleges of Architecture and Legalism exist here as well as the Empire’s foremost Military Academy; the Zan Bu School of Warfare. Many of Yi-Ti’s finest generals have been educated here at great expense, including the God-Emperor himself and his sons – though of course, they did not need the training provided. Aside from colleges, Tiqui also has some of the finest silk farms in the world located in its vicinity; though they are not dominant in the amount created, even among the cities of the Empire – Yin itself and the other heartlands produce far more daily.

Like Yin, the people of Tiqui speak the Old Tiquin language and are proud of it. Tradespeak has no place here; many street vendors will refuse to sell produce to any who speak to them using that tongue. They also keep very similar religious practices to Yin, though they afford perhaps too much reverence to previous God-Emperors in comparison to the one who lives now. As the court knows, the prince of Tiqui is a descendent of the Purple Dynasty and has been accused in the past of possessing certain treasonous ambitions, though there is no certain proof. I do fear that the idea of Tiqui being the capital has taken route among the populace however, which may require the involvement of the court at some point in the future.

Trader Town is the northmost of the great cities of the Empire, though not the most northerly settlement in general – that is the ‘Seafort’ built to keep watch over the Shrinking Sea area. It is the sixth largest of Yi-Ti’s cities and one of the most diverse, with certain quarters of the city having large immigrant communities from elsewhere in the Empire and from outside it. Several notable ones include a Qarthi refugee community that has fled the Dothraki, the Hagi Nhai Tribe that previously inhabited the Howling Hills and a surprisingly rich collection of Noble Houses who have fled from various western regions for various reasons. This has of course led to there being no unifying language, religion or culture in the city, though Tradespeak is the most common of the languages – though it has some distinct Valyrian influence.

The wealth of this city comes from an array of fields, as well as breeding grounds producing some of the finest zorses and horses in the Empire. So renowned are these steeds, especially those of Prince Gai Hya’s personal flock that even the Jhoqos Nhai will usually spare Trader Town from any raids – though this is by no means a certainty. The city is a quiet rival to Tiqui notably, with the people of the northern city despising the perceived arrogance of the southerners. Conversely, the Tiquins see their northern neighbours as no better than the barbarians beyond the border; a description that is mostly undeserved.

- Of the Barbarians to the North -

It is a strange irony that as our other enemies grow in power both within and without the Empire; the group of people many would claim as our greatest foe diminish by the day. The Winter of Doom was far more unkind to the Jhoqos Nhai than it was to us, since they have none of the organisation or civilisation that makes the Golden Empire the greatest in the world. We had a variety of good shelters and other methods to relieve us and our animals from the cold; they did not have this benefit due to their nomadic nature and have so suffered for it. But that is not the worst thing that occurs north of the border, even with rumours of clans turning on each other for food – even to the point of cannibalism.

That would be the outbreak of the Grey Plague in the northern lands. The sickness has torn out the heart of our northern neighbours, as it did to our own Empire long ago. The rumours state that a third of them have already perished to the plague, with the only survivors being those willing to burn the dead and the alive who suffer the stone sickness. As the court well knows, the plague is always fatal. If the people who suffered it were not the Jhoqos Nhai, if they were not the degenerates and barbarians who have murdered countless of the Empire’s citizens; it would be possible to feel sorry for them. But as it is, their dismay spells opportunity for Yi-Ti in the fertile lands to the north; though by the God-Emperor’s will, of course.

- Of Leng –

Our relations with Leng are so well recounted by other scholars that I would not dream of discussing them here; doing so would be a great offense to the people of that realms and their envoys at the Imperial Court. I will only say that they are happily allied to us and are prosperous under the wise rule of the God-Empress Rani the Fierce.

- Jinqi and Lesser Jinqi -

If not for the raids from the Shadow Lands, Jinqi might have remained as a small town of little note. However due those raids and the need to secure this region of the Empire, this small town quickly grew into a large city through several well-documented economic projects and a forced migration. All this was done under the rules of Ra Hai, Ra Gu and Ra Jai; the dynasty of maroon emperors that fully secured the Eastern Provinces for the Empire. In the present day, the city is the third largest in Yi-Ti, growing fat and mighty from the trade routes of the Jade Sea and the Godless Gap. Jinqi’s worth to the Empire is twofold, with the first part of its value being based around control of the eastward trade routes. The second part of its worth is as military centre, for three of the Empire’s ten legions have their ‘home forts’ in Jinqi; compared to two in Yin and Tiqui. Many of the greatest advancements in military technique and technology of recent years come from this city; including the fabled Dragon-Lances that have brought the Skyrkes to a low not seen in centuries. Constructed with the aid of a strange black powder, these weapons have begun to revolutionise the Empire’s legions – though it must be noted that they are difficult to make and keep in working order.

The people of Jinqi are fierce worshippers of the God-Emperor and speak a tongue that has a shared origin in Yinnish and the Cr’dle script of the Nu’haci. Fishing is the greatest industry other than the military, with the second largest part of the Imperial Fleet not in actual service residing near the harbour. A variety of palaces are built on the hills of the city, though unlike Yin and Tiqui they do not dominate a district of their own – the Prince of Jinqi’s own palace is just across from a small market. What that says about the people I am not sure, but they appear to be one of the more accepting groups in the Empire – with the exception of religious matters, for the priests of foreign religions are viewed with suspicion and disgust. Jinqi is also the only city in the Empire that is entirely contained within its walls. Three great gatehouses guard the roads into the city and five forts supply the military necessary to do so.

Lesser Jinqi is ironically the far older city, though it was not originally known by that name. By our best estimates, it was founded at a time similar to Asshai or the One Beyond, though its relation to either of those is unknown. It was certainly not comparable to either of them in might, for it is slightly smaller than Tiqui if the furthest ruins are taken into account. In the present day roughly three quarters of it is occupied, for time and the success of multiple God-Emperors have diminished whatever darkness resided in the black stone buildings. Some of the buildings retain a small sense of mystery (such as the obelisk nicknamed the waymarker), but most are quite pleasant to live in. In behaviour and belief, the people are identical to those of Jinqi to the south and so do not warrant much discussion.

- Of Asshai, the Shadow Lands and the Mountains of the Mourn -

Every child in Yi-Ti is raised with the tales of the Shadow Lands and what lurks within. Many of these tales are far from accurate in their accounts, though distressing amounts are. What can be confirmed is that there are no true civilisations throughout the region (excluding Asshai) and the few settlements that exist are the homes of bandits or sorcerers. Some of the inhabitants are known well to the court; such as the Stone Tribes who have somehow survived the Grey Plague and the Shadow Men – not to be confused with shadowbinders – who have long rivalled the Jhoqos Nhai in bringing woe to the Empire (though compared to our southeastern neighbours, the horselords are a very gentle people). Many of the latter lurk nearby the Corpse City (but never within), performing unknowable rituals that may have some relation to the faith I will not name – though the truth of this is unknown, for none but the Shadow Men ever return from that region. At least three of the Golden Empire’s legions have vanished while attempting to reach the Corpse City, with any information about their whereabouts being unknown.

Even without the horrors created by man though, the region is still horrendously treacherous. Twisted varieties of bear, cattle, fish and bird are the lowest creatures in this region’s food chain; the upper reaches are ruled by monstrosities such as the Shānyáng, the Shǔ rén Hordes, the Hāpī and perhaps even the Elder Dragon said to be the ancestor of all it’s kind. There are no untwisted forms of life in the Shadow Lands; even the plant life is merely the Ghost Grass that requires the forts of the border to constantly burn it back from the grasslands of into the Empire. There are few places in the world that are more horrific; it is a shame that Yi-Ti borders another.

The Mountains of the Mourn are comparatively nice, with a far more civilised civilisation existing around the Hidden Sea. The people of Carcosa are pale from living so close the Shadow Lands and have a strong martial tradition; but these are to be expected considering their neighbours. They are a valuable trade partner, for the water of the Hidden Sea are some of the most prosperous in the world with Sugar Cane and Coffee Beans being their greatest exports. Carcosa answers to a senate built in the city that shares their kingdom’s name, which they established after a particularly bad monarch nearly caused them and their daughter city to break apart; a warning about the dangers of false God-Emperors in my opinion. In remembrance of that event, the inhabitants of the kingdom will dress themselves in ‘bird-cloaks’ once a year and carry out a week-long mockery of their former rulers.

Despite the rumours from other lands, Asshai is not actually big enough to contain Yin, Tiqui, Jinqi and several other cities combined. It is certainly bigger than all of them, both in width and in height with some towers comparable to the former city of Valyria; but not bigger than all of them together. It is also predominantly abandoned with only a small part of the western side of the Ash currently being inhabited; the population is slightly larger than Lesser Jinqi’s at an estimate. The Faiths of R'hllor, the Black Goat, Bakkalon and the faith I will not name occupy temples in the city, though none of them can be described as dominant. Much of the ‘ruling’ population is made up of shadowbinders, who jealously guard the greatest selection of arcane knowledge remaining in the world. Underneath them are a variety of people; the White Guardsmen who keep order, a collection of traders, a few criminals fleeing justice in some foreign land and at least half of the population are slaves. And there are no children in Asshai.

Asshai is a very old city, potentially older than any in the world including Lesser Jinqi, the Heart of the Jungle, Yeen and the One Beyond. Everything is made out of a black stone that seems to drink the light, which makes the city appear to be a dark and gloomy place even on the brightest of days. As one would expect this is the same black stone used in the construction of the Emperor’s Tomb, which could possibly explain why the city is so unhealthy. Trade from Asshai mostly comes in the form of gold and gems, though more superstitious people believe that anything procured in the Shadow Lands (including Asshai) should not be associated with. Asshai is considered an ally of the Empire; but considering that the population seems uninterested in all outside affairs but trade that does not say much.

- The Eastern Provinces -

In contrast to the northern lands of the Empire, the Eastern Provinces are a heavily hilly region of terrain that occasionally becomes truly mountainous, especially near the eastern and southeastern borders. The soil is tough here and in some areas utterly unsuitable for growing crops of any variety. This has led the people here to become semi-nomadic in their behaviour, with households spending different parts of the year in different locations. The exceptions of course are the inhabitants of ‘Ford Town’, Jinqi and Lesser Jinqi (which I have already discussed); as well as the citizens who make their homes in the southwestern jungle. There is also no civilisation aside from forts on the pinnacle of the southeastern border (where the Empire meets the River Campe and the Ghost Grass Coast), for obvious reasons.

Of all the people in Yi-Ti, the semi-nomadic people here are the most alien in custom to those of living in the Empire’s heart; even considering mongrel people such as those with Jhoqos Nhai blood in the far north. Not only do they retain a tribal nature that the other provinces have evolved out of, but they also retain their own name for themselves (the Nu’haci) and cultural elements such as the ‘Thousand God’ religion, the Cranosi Script and a practise of electing their leaders by vote despite that method being easy to corrupt. They cling to this ideal strongly and I fear that they hold no love for the God-Emperor despite his unending benevolence. Perhaps it is due only to their hatred for conflict that the Nu’haci have not rebelled, for war only results in starvation in their barren lands.

‘Ford Town’ is an a fairly modern city of the Empire, built at the point where the Elder River and Forsaken Rivers combine to form the Great Red River (said by many to be the deepest in the world for much of its length). The city is one of the smallest in Yi-Ti, due to its distance from anything of true value and the constant threat of an attack from the Mountains of the Mourn or the Land of the Skyrkes. It is however the Empire’s greatest source of Jade due to a variety of excellent mines, meaning that it deserves protection for that reason alone. It is also the final stop on the journey to the Five Forts, outside the true Empire.

- Of the Five Forts and Beyond -

I would rather not dwell on the cursed lands to the northeast, so I shall endeavour to make this section brief. As the court well knows, the Five Forts are a collection of gargantuan structures each a thousand feet high that guard the Empire from raiders from the Land of the Skyrkes and beyond. Each of them can house close to five thousand men, though the current population of each fort is closer to 600 men at most. They were constructed out of a fused black stone – notably not the stone used to construct Asshai or the Emperor’s Tomb – approximately ten thousand years ago, during the reign of the Pearl Emperor; prior to the Long Night and the fall of the Empire of the Dawn. Travel to them is difficult since they lay outside the Empire’s borders, but the divine wisdom of previous God-Emperors has informed us that each fort is necessary to protect Yi-Ti. Not a single one can be abandoned and left to rot. Not a single one can be given over to the care of bandits…or worse.

Of the lands beyond, we know varying amounts. The Cannibal Sands and the Land of the Shrykes are well documented, with maps of the area easy to come by. The tribes of each hold no secrets from us and it is only lack of manpower that prevents their complete destructions. Armour of scale and feather is no match for the might of a crossbow or dragon-lance. K’Dath is also well known, with the few people that live in that ancient city too weak to influence the Empire in any way, regardless of their dark rituals and strange gods. While the city is older than most, it does not match up to Yin let alone cities such as Asshai or Lesser Jinqi. The region known as Bonetown is also decently documented, with several of the large bones recovered from it on display in the Imperial Palace.

The states of Kenyari, known to the people of the west as the ‘Cities of the Bloodless Men’ are well known enough to deserve their own short section. They are a pale folk (the source of their nickname), but of hardy stock and are surprisingly deft craftsmen. Travel to the states requires a journey through the Dry Deep Canyon, so called because nothing can survive there; the reason why they are seldom heard of to those not specifically looking. Several rare varieties of ore are mined by the people, which allow a small trade system to exist nonetheless.

Of the Grey Waste, we know nothing but the usual. Travel here is eternally deadly, with only the foolhardy daring to cross into the morrowlands. There is no point to travelling into this region anyway, since there are no opportunities to seek out or other civilisations to visit. Of the One Beyond little can be said, as is good. The last reports confirm that it remains abandoned and the Far Folk beyond the reach of mortal men. Only the Grey Sands remain to be seen in this most drear of regions and they are not worth the trip.

May the wisdom of the God-Emperor guide us for eternity.

Chapter Text

Crisis of Infinite Tywins, Part One?

Canon!Tywin: Do not bestir yourselves gentlemen, we can easily fund our way out of this scenario.

Show!Tywin:..there may be problems with that idea.

Starkwank!Tywin: THE STARKS HAVE TAKEN CASTERLY ROCK! I CANNOT EVEN PAY MY OWN MEN, LET ALONE VOLANTIS! I. AM. DOOOOOOO-

Gay!Tywin: Stop screaming, you’re giving us all headaches. ‘To clutched photograph’ Not least of all my beloved Steffon.

Robot!Tywin: You let the Starks capture Casterly Rock? How could you even be so idiotic to let that happen? Even blasted Aegon the Incompetent-

Lannisterwank!Tywin: It does not matter even if he did. I have...several Casterly Rocks built all over the Grand Lannister Empire...all of them with far more money than the rest of you could even hope for, gained from my most marvellous inventions and mastery of trade. I shall simply take a tiny fraction of my gold from them, knowing full well that it is more money than this petty city could ever have.

Hodor!Tywin: Hodor!

Friendly!Tywin: An excellent suggestion my limited friend! Brothers, rather than bribe ourselves out of the situation we must do good deeds for the people of this city, and earn their forgiveness!

Starkwank!Tywin: HOW WILL I DO GOOD DEEDS WHEN THE STARKS EXECUTE ME! DAMN THE YOUNG WOLF, HOW COULD THIS HAPP- 'Snap'

Gay!Tywin: Thank you, other me. 'Clutches Photograph' Aerys and Steffon thank you too.

Robot!Tywin: You're all welcome.

Canon!Tywin: Whoever knew talking to yourself would be so tiring?

Friendly!Tywin: We should probably call the jailer and tell him there's been a terrible accident.

Show!Tywin: Yes. 'Accident'.

Lannisterwank!Tywin: At the very least, get him to move the body - its staining my purloined silk robes! Do you know how much these-

Mysterious Voice: I believe we can assist with this situation.

Lannisterwank!Tywin: Who dares interrupt my magnificence?!

'The Cell Door is torn open, allowing four more figures to enter the cell. The first, a giant figure who's neatly combed hairstyle scrapes the ceiling, steps forward.'

Mysterious Figure: It is I, Rogal Lannister.

Show!Tywin: What.

Rogal!Tywin: And I have brought allies with me, to assist you my counterparts.

Robot!Tywin: Oh for fuck's sake.

Night'sking!Tywin: I AM WINTER. THE FIRST WINTER, AND THE LAST...

Seldomheardfromdornish!Tywin: Eugh!

Targaryen!Tywin: I am Tywin Targaryen.

Canon!Tywin: I am fine with this.

Targaryen!Tywin: I have come to search for my one true love, with whom I shall forfill the Prophecy of Ice and Fire!

Canon!Tywin: I am no longer fine with this.

Targayen!Tywin: Would you like to hear me on the harp?

Nearly Everyone Else: NO!

Friendly!Tywin: 'Lowering a hand' ...maybe later?

Robot!Tywin: Oh no, not him.

Fabulous!Tywin: 'Wearing nothing but a monstrous golden chain, dragged down from his neck by a gigantic T the size of someone's fist'  Do not pretend to be so surprised.

Gay!Tywin: 'Waving' Hey there handsome!

TO BE CONTINUED?

The Long Awaited Origin of Gay!Tywin

Tywin: Try dirty talk, it worked for Steffon.

Robert: What? How do you know that? How would you know that?

Tywin: How much do you want to know?

Robert: I...I...uh....

Tywin: Aerys was there too, if you must know. Why do you think he was always so envious of me?

Cersei: Eugh!

Robert: But....why?!

Tywin: Because! Because!

Robert: 'Doomed by his own curiosity' BECAUSE WHY?!

Cersei: 'Panicking' DAD PLEASE STOP!

Tywin: Because your father was my true love! Aerys' too! We were going to have annulments and Aerys was going to bring back polygamy! Fully Manual Gay Medieval Feudalistic Polygamy!!!

Cersei: 'Faints'

Robert: No! That's not true, that's impossible!

Tywin: Search your feelings, you know it to be true.

Robert: NOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

There were no Survivors.

Chapter Text

Crisis of Infinite Tywins, Part 2!

Lannisterwank!Tywin: You heard it, it was him! He did it!

Canon!Tywin: I cannot disagree with this testimony, my more genteel counterpart is the true culprit.

Show!Tywin: Such a tragedy that we became associated with such a man.

Robot!Tywin: Truly irredeemable. ‘Cough’

Hodor!Tywin: Hodor!

Friendly!Tywin: ‘Gasp’ How could you?!

‘One of the Triarchs stands up. He appears quite upset.’

Upset Triarch: Enough of this! All of these Westerosi must face the elephants or the pits! They have invaded my city, murdered my slaves, drunk my wine and used my toilet!

Other Triarch: They also killed Malaquo. ‘Eats Peach’

Benerro: Rest assured my Triarchs, we shall bring them all to justice. ‘Aside’ Though not for murdering that ponce.

Gay!Tywin: I would like to organise my own defence…

Fabulous!Tywin: ‘To Nightsking!Tywin, deep within the watching crowd’ This should be a laugh.

Gay!Tywin: The only crime I can be convicted of is loving my fellow men, perhaps more than is common, but certainly not more than is reasonable. When I look out at this crowd, I do not see Volantines, I see men just like myself and my beloved Steffon. Why would loving them ever be a crime? 'Clutches Photograph'

Show!Tywin: ‘Whispering’ Shut up before you get us all killed.

Gay!Tywin: ‘Ignoring him’ Come join me in love my-

Lannisterwank!Tywin: I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO DEFEND MYSELF!

Canon!Tywin: ‘Sighs’

Lannisterwank!Tywin: By throwing my name into the ring for election as Triarch!

‘Silence’

Upset Triarch: 'Confused' Uh…what?

Other Triarch: Can he actually do that?

Benerro: Is that legal?

Rogal!Tywin: As the nearest expert in Volantine law, I shall explain: Yes.

‘Silence’

Friendly!Tywin: Yes what?

Robot!Tywin: Don’t even bother…

Rogal!Tywin: The requirements for choosing a Triarch state any man may throw their name into the ring, provided they are not a Ghiscari, a Lyseni, an Ironborn, a Catholic, a follower of the Black Goat, under the age of five months or a sheep.

Lannisterwank!Tywin: And more importantly, any man in the running for Triarch cannot be convicted of a crime – including murdering another Triarch. This is the strategy I used on the Volantis in my Planetos, you know. I just bribed all the other claimants to give up – because naturally I had far more money than they could dream of – and then took command. I don't know why they would have selected another candidate anyway. 'Preens'

Benerro: That seems fishy. How much would you be willing to pay to the Temple of the Lord of Light for an endorsement?

Lannisterwank!Tywin: Enough for a second temple. Maybe even a third…?

Benerro:…Tywin Lannister is endorsed as Triarch! May the Lord of Light bless him in the coming days!

Upset Triarch: Hey! You can’t do tha-

Lannisterwank!Tywin: Don’t worry my soon to be dead fellow Triarch, I’m willing to fund certain favours for you and your friend as well. One could say that I am generous to my friends, for I have so much gold, that I could fund all of Essos for a year and-

‘Loud Groaning from the crowd’

Lannisterwank!Tywin: Who dares interrupt my boasting?!

‘A shabbily dressed figure stumbles through the crowd. It has fading long blonde hair, pale skin, and a head that appears to be on backwards.’

Canon!Tywin: Ah. I’d forgotten about him.

Undeadstarkwank!Tywin: BRRRRRRAAAAAAIIIINNNNNSSSSS!

Show!Tywin: Even while dead, he just won’t calm down.

Undeadstarkwank!Tywin: GIIIIIVVVVVEEE MMMMEEEEE BRRRRRAAAAAIIIINNNNSSSSSsss…

Gay!Tywin: Got to say, he looks much better now.

Friendly!Tywin: He looks like a corpse.

Gay!Tywin: And?

Undeadstarkwank!Tywin: GIIIIIVVVVEEE MEEEE BRRRAAAAIIIINNNSSS! THE STAAARRRKS ARE COMIIING!

Seldomheardfromdornish!Tywin: Ugh.

Robot!Tywin: This is ridiculous. You! ‘Points at Nightsking!Tywin’ Turn him off!

Nightsking!Tywin: FINEEEE. ‘Waves a hand’

‘Undeadstarkwank!Tywin collapses to the floor, no longer a wight. The two Triarchs and Benerro have been standing to one side, watching this entire commotion.’

Other Triarch: Ahem. ‘Nudges Benerro, points at the Other in their midst.’

Benerro: Wait a minute, you! ‘Points a finger at Nightsking!Tywin’ You’re a servant of the Great Other!

Nightsking!Tywin: TECHNICALLY YES?

Benerro: ‘Draws a flaming sword from nowhere’ To me warriors of light, let us purge this heresy!

‘Several dozen Red Priests appear from the crowd, armed with a wide range of flaming weaponry: swords, spears, num-chuks and a small ballista.’

Robot!Tywin: Cut me loose! ‘Directed at Targaryen!Tywin, who has also been standing to one side admiring his hair.’

Gay!Tywin: Me first!

Canon!Tywin: I am the senior, release me!

Targaryen!Tywin: I feel a song coming on…

Everyone: NO!

Targaryen!Tywin: Why would I listen to you…its just as Daddy said, a captive audience is the best audience. ‘Begins to strum harp’

Lannisterwank!Tywin: 'Desperate' Please no! I’ll give you gold, trade routes, gold, anything!

Show!Tywin: 'Pleading' You can have my daughter! And my son! Either of them!

Rogal!Tywin: I offer a battlecruiser.

Targaryen!Tywin: ‘Singing' I wISH i wAs ON YonDEr Heil, TIS There i’D SiT and-

'SMASH'

Targaryen!Tywin: OW! Who did that?!

‘A figure steps forward from the crowd, dressed in a dark red uniform with gold detailing. A seven-sided star is emblazoned on his chest, while a golden W is marked out on his helmet. The shield, a circular red and gold object made of some strange material is affixed to his arm.’

Mysterious Figure: My name is Tywin Lannister.

Robot!Tywin: Oh for fuck's sake.

Mysterious Figure: But you may call me…CAPTAIN WESTEROS!

Gay!Tywin: ‘Waves’ Well, hello there…

Chapter Text

Crisis of Infinite Tywins: Part the Third?

Rogal!Tywin: FLY YOU FOOLS!

Captain Westeros: Cowardice? In the face of the enemy! Never!

'Captain Westeros begins to play frisbee with some unlucky Red Priests’

Robot!Tywin: Yes, why are we running? ‘Floors a Red Priest with a punch’ I am literally covered in armour.

Friendly!Tywin: ‘Standing in the middle of the throughway.’ My friends, calm yourselves-

Canon!Tywin: Aha! ‘Spots a horse’ Finally, now I can fight like a civilised person.

‘Canon!Tywin does an impressive leap onto the back of the horse, drawing his blade as he does so.’

Lannisterwank!Tywin: Right, I shall decide on our strategy. ‘Canon’ me, find a decent opportunity and break their lines! Hodor, find their leader and hug him to death! Rogal, use some of that fancy technology you keep talking about!

Rogal!Tywin: ‘Standing Idly’ I cannot, I have sworn to limit myself.

Lannisterwank!Tywin: Why?!

Show!Tywin: ‘Stabs a priest’ It does not matter, ignore him!

Lannisterwank!Tywin: ‘Sighs, pausing to body slam a priest attempting to sneak up on him’ Okay then; Gaylord, Showguy and Fabulous – defend me, I shall pay you later. Resident Dark Lords – just wade into the enemy, kill anything that moves. Captain Westeros-

Captain Westeros: Yes, General?

Lannisterwank!Tywin: Keep doing what you’re doing.

Captain Westeros: Right on, commander!

Chief Priest Benerro: ‘Struggling with Hodor!Tywin’ Get off me fatty!

Hodor!Tywin: ‘Angrily’ HODOR!

Benerro: Stop it!

‘Friendly!Tywin is still standing in the middle of the road.’

Friendly!Tywin: STOP!

‘Everyone pauses, some of them mid-punch or mid-stab.’

Friendly!Tywin: My friends, this is unnecessary! Let us not fight, there is no need for it! Come, join me in putting down our blades and we can solve this problem like gentle-AAAHHH!

‘Unnoticed by anyone, the Upset Triarch has snuck up behind Friendly!Tywin with a knife.’

Upset Triarch: You shall have no mercy from me but the blade!

‘The fighters erupt into combat again. As Friendly!Tywin falls to the floor, clutching at his stomach, Gay!Tywin leaps across the battlefield to slam the Upset Triarch to the ground with a photograph. The other Tywins fight their own battles, Robot!Tywin throwing several Red Priests through walls while the Night’s King freezes over a large part of the harbour. Captain Westeros has turned his attention to Benerro, who has forced Hodor!Tywin to his knees with a well placed kick to the shins. Canon!Tywin charges back and forth into the Lord of Light’s ranks, followed closely behind by Seldomheardfromdornish!Tywin who has stolen a ballista. Two Red Priests succeed in knocking out Targaryen!Tywin (to everyone’s relief), but are quickly engaged by Lannisterwank!Tywin who manages to sway their interest with a large amount of gold.’

Friendly!Tywin: ‘Death Rattle’

Upset Triarch: ‘Bleeding from the mouth’ You cannot defeat me you idiots! All of Volantis will avenge my name!

Gay!Tywin: I doubt it. ‘Slits his neck’

‘Benerro has temporarily resisted Captain Westeros’ Patriotic Powers, and now find himself faced by Lannisterwank!Tywin’

Benerro: ‘Gasping’ I don’t think I can do this for much longer. You! ‘Gestures at Lannisterwank!Tywin.’ Is our agreement still on?

Lannisterwank!Tywin: I will be aiming for being the single Triarch now, but yes.

Benerro: I can work with that. ‘Runs off down side alley, making a rude gesture at Nightsking!Tywin as he does so.’

Gay!Tywin: What a nice man.

‘By now, most of the fighting has come to a close. The Tywins stand in a rough circle, battered and bleeding but alive.’

Other Triarch: Well done ‘Claps’ Well done, I say. By killing both of my fellows you have done a great service for me.

Show!Tywin: You’re welcome.

Other Triarch: I’m almost tempted to let you go free…except ‘takes a bite out of peach’ eee eave uhfenece beesnest!

Lannisterwank!Tywin: Pardon?

Captain Westeros: 'Sternly' Don’t speak with your mouthful! It promotes bad hygiene!

Other Triach: ‘Spits out peach seeds’ I said, we have unfinished business. Tell me, Tywin Lannisters, do you not recognise me?

Canon!Tywin: No.

Other Triarch: Not even a little bit?

Gay!Tywin: I think my darling Aerys once had a boyfriend who looked a bit like you…?

Other Triarch: ‘Smiles’ How disappointing! And after I spent so much time luring you here, like a moth to a flame, here, right into my hands!

Nightsking!Tywin: MAKE SENSE ALREADY.

Other Triach: ‘Laughing’ You are fools, all of you! Bumbling around this world, not suspecting that others might exist Just. Like. You!

Robot!Tywin: Make sense or die!

Other Triarch: Don’t you recognise me, my Lords? ‘Laughs again’ Clearly not, otherwise you might have thought twice about coming here. You can paint a Lannister in any colour you want, they will all be the same at heart!

Gay!Tywin: I’m so confused. ‘Clutches slightly dented photograph’

Other Triarch: Then allow me to explain. I… ‘Pulls off mask.’ …am Renly Baratheon!

Canon!Tywin: What.

Show!Tywin: Renly?

Lannisterwank!Tywin: What are you doing here?

Captain Westeros: And why are you a filthy Essosi?

Volantine!Renly: Why are you a filthy Westerosi?

Fabulous!Tywin: And here I was, thinking the zombie and the super soldiers were the height of silliness.

Rogal!Tywin: ‘Death Rattle’

Volantine!Renly: ‘To Lannisterwank!Tywin’ You asked me why I am here, my lord. Well I would think that is obvious! I have come to prove once and for all, who is-

‘Renly’s ranting is cut off by a shield slamming into his face.’

Captain Westeros: Another victory for the Westerosi way.

Volantine!Renly: ‘Mad Laughter’ You fool! ‘Wipes away the smear of blood brought by the shield.’ I – or should I say, we – cannot be defeated that easily!

‘Nine more figures step out of the crowd, pulling out various weapons and casting aside their cloaks.’

Canon!Renly: I am Renly Baratheon.

Show!Renly: I am also Renly Baratheon.

Straight!Renly: I am Renly of the House Baratheon.

Elf!Renly: Hi guys! I’m Renly!

Renlywank!Renly: I am King-Emperor Renly, First and Only of My Name, Shield of the Faith, Warden of-

Rodoh!Renly: Rodoh!

SeldomheardfromTargaryen!Renly: Mmm.

Drownedgod!Renly: I AM THE DEAD AND THE DEEP.

Fabulous!Renly: And I’m just fabulous. ‘flutters eyelashes’

'The Renlys form a loose circle, surrounding Team Tywin.'

Nightsking!Tywin: THIS COULD BE A PROBLEM.

Canon!Tywin: If we had to face a Baratheon, why couldn’t it have been Stannis?

Robot!Tywin: I would settle for Robert. At least he was worth something. ...In the past.

Show!Renly: Hey! I had plenty of achievements!

Canon!Tywin: Name one.

Captain Westeros: Eyes on me. We’ll each need to take down one, but do not fear my allies – Westeros and the Seven are with us!

Show!Tywin: Give it a rest already.

Renlywank!Renly: Also, I am the resident defender of the Seven here – why would they listen to you, ‘Captain Lanny’?

Lannisterwank!Tywin: You still haven’t answered me. What is your plan?

Volantine!Renly: ‘Softly’ Why, I would have though that was obvious, my lard…I mean to kill you.

‘Silence’

Lannisterwank!Tywin: Is that it?

Gay!Tywin: Could you at least ravish me first?

Drownedgod!Renly: NO.

Fabulous!Renly: Maybe. ‘Winks’.

Volantine!Renly: There is more to it than that. Once I have killed you, I will have slain all the Tywins in the multiverse. With you erased from existence, all of your descendants will cease to exist as well, including my ‘beloved’ nephews and nieces. Then I shall do the same to the other men standing between my counterparts and their thrones – my brothers, Robb Stark, Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen, the Greyjoys in general…I shall keep doing this until no power exists to threaten my rule, ever again.

Show!Tywin: ‘Barely Listening’ Wait, so are you implying there’s a bunch of time travelling Euron Greyjoys out there?

Volantine!Renly: ‘Blinks’ …I mean, technically yes?

Gay!Tywin: Eugh!

Seldomheardfromdornish!Tywin: Oh nuts.

Robot!Tywin: As if this couldn’t get worse.

Chapter Text

The Dark Tower

In a clearing of the great jungle, between three peaks of blood lies one sharp dark tower. Though tall in it’s own right, it is dwarfed by the mountains and hidden from the view of those beyond. To those who do not already know of it’s presence, this is a mercy – for no men can view this black obelisk without a shadow falling over their minds.

Of all the regions in the known world, no other nation can claim to be Yi-Ti’s superior in size or in stability. While the Westeros and Essos have torn themselves apart with the fall of Valyria, the Far East has prospered. There have been wars to be sure and several rival powers do exist – Hyrkoon, Leng and the ever present threat of the Jhoqos Nhai – but even all of them combined have not dented the majesty of the Golden Empire. While the rest of the world has sundered, the east has risen.

Why is this?

It is because they were outside Valyria’s grasp. It is because they have never shared that degenerate culture with the rest of the world; uniquely, for even far Sothoryos and the savage north have felt the heat of dragonflame. The east is its own kingdom; with its own gods, own legends, own heroes and rulers and languages.

That is the focus of my work today, for in this era of strange tensions it is required that Braavos be prepared for all eventualities. War with Ibben seems more certain by the day and we have few allies; Sarnor faces civil war, the southern cities are busy with cruel Volantis, and the many realms of Westeros face their own troubles. None except the Sheepfold could rise to our aid in wartime, but perhaps the power of Yi-Ti could. Especially given the strange rumours of ‘Dragon-Lances’ that have somehow harnessed the power of those monstrous creatures.

But getting aid requires understanding on both sides and so I have compiled this guide to what is known of the Yi-Tish languages. There are many scattered throughout the Golden Empire, including Cranosi, Old Hinian, Ct’bbana and in the northern provinces Tradespeak. Since I can be confident that no envoy or noble would be speaking any of those tongues (thanks to their inflated egos more often than not) I shall not cover them, but instead focus on the two greatest languages: Old Tiquin and the Yinian Script.

The Tiquin script is the oldest of the two languages, having existed relatively unchanged since the time of the Four Emperors some thousand years ago. It is not the oldest surviving language in Yi-Ti however; that is the slowly dying Stighir tongue of the north-eastern provinces. Yinnish is by comparison much younger, having risen into prominence as a sub-dialect of Tiquin during the reign of Bu Cra, first of the Azure Emperors. Tradespeak is a much younger language again and a constantly changing one, with a grammar loosely based on High Valyrian and words taken from a hundred tongues across the world.

Tiquin word/Yinnish word

Basi - Guard
Bban - Blood
Beq/Fay - Astride/Across
Brenon - Emperor
Choq - Purple
Ctan/Zan – Stone
Fai/Fi - Soldier
Gai/Jai - Great
Ghi - Ghiscari
Gu/Go – Green
Hai/Cra – Old
Han/Chai - Yellow
Hapi - Harpy
Har - Grey
Hi/Bu – Blue
Hya - Strong
Hyr - Hero
Jar – Coral
Jin/Jen – Against
Joq or Ken - Barbarian
Ki – Saffron
Kitzin - Trickster
Len - Island
Lo/Bar or Cai - War
Ma - Wife/Queen
Men - Jade
Nai/Tiq - Corrupt
Nu/Cra - Young
Pol - Orange
Qo/Quen - Gold
Quen/Du - Wise
Ra - Red
Chai/Ren - Rat
Shan/Shu - Beast
Si - Fort
Sin - Beyond
Styg – Cursed
Tar/Tir - Sword
Tho - Dusk
Thu - Dawn
Tiq/Haci - People
Vaim - Heart
Yang - Horn
Yi - The Great River
Zen - Ruby

The Yi-Tish system of grammar – or at least the style common to the two main languages – is rather difficult for an outsider to the language to grasp. Words themselves only maintain one meaning; there is no possibility in the language for metaphor or implication. There are also very few words that mean the same as another; which at first glance would make the language unwieldy and unexpressive.

That is where the use of word endings comes in however. Depending on how a word is finished in the Tiquin and Yinnish scripts, it can have a thousand meanings. Some of these are tied up with gender – as I have laid out below – while others come with secondary meanings. Ending a word with ‘ui’ for example implies a connection to the sea, for that is the word used to designate port. Similarly ending a word with ‘yg’ is a common insult, for it is a shortened version of the word for ‘cursed’.

Some Word Endings

-ess - On
-ian/uin – Of
-on - North
-osi – From
-si – Protector/Fort
-ui – Port
-yg -Cursed

-an/in/en/im/ng/oq - Hard Endings – often Male
-i/ai/a/ri - Soft Endings – often Female
-ar/u/o - Neutral Endings - Genderless

Chapter Text

The Realm Divided
-Or-
A Song of Borders and Gore

The year is 298AC, though in the future it will become known as the Year the Gods Slept. The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros lie broken and divided, with not one realm escaping the firestorm that has engulfed the continent. The War of Four Kings as it is already known (later known as the War of Six Kings) has not even spared Essos the carnage brought by the death of Jaehaerys III Targaryen, with the direct fighting spreading to the coast of Grand Tyrosh even as the cold war in the north threatens to turn hot.

Loyalty is a thing of the past in this Westeros. A man's loyalty to their realm must be counted suspect, after the defections of men such as Lyn Corbray and Tremond Gargalen. A man's loyalty to their liege lord must be considered even more suspicious, now that men such as Jon Arryn and Rickard Karstark have broken the oaths they once swore. Loyalty to family has also been cast aside in many cases, with Houses such as the Lannisters and the Baratheons having leaders on multiple sides of the war.

The only oaths that has been kept so far are those given before gods - though many might not consider this a good thing, after the crimes commited by the worshippers of the old and new gods alike...

As the smallfolk and highborn of Westeros look to the future, one question looms above all the rest - what fresh hell will tomorrow bring?

Purple Borders are faction borders, designating which out of Targaryen/Tyrell/Stark/Tyrosh/etc controls that specific territory.
Brown Borders are state borders, showing the traditional realms of Westeros/Essos.