Prologue: I turn into a snake:
FUCK.
This couldn't be. THIS COULDN'T BE.
Yet it WAS: I had...
FUCK.
This couldn't be. THIS COULDN'T BE.
Yet it WAS: I had...
From snake to dragon (SI ASoIaF)
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Intro and chapter 1
LordKragan
The one and only lord of muttonchops
- Location
- Spain, Barcelona, bar du madam celona
Prologue: I turn into a snake:
FUCK.
This couldn't be. THIS COULDN'T BE.
Yet it WAS: I had no tanned skin,unless I had been so much under the sun my skin had bleached. No, this skin was very fair. I didn't have my plump features and jet black curls. Instead I had a gaunt face with lilac eyes and silver-blonde hair.
I was in a lavish palace whose balconies showed the seaview. Surrounding me were servant girls who eyed me stranged.
It was Illyrio's manse.
I had become Viserys Targaryen on the day of Daenery's wedding.
Curse my luck.
========================================
Chapter 1. The snake bares its fangs.
After panicking for a while (Hey, a bloody truck had ran over me and made me into a fictional character, give me a break), I decided to set straight priorities and circumstances:
Viserys was the epitome of a trainwreck. A royal prince who had lost EVERYTHING and went on to try to survive with his sister on the cities with no skill whatsoever. It would go as well as expected and a good mix of inbreeding and stress at such an age would bring the guy to utter madness and an early death at the hands of his very own brother in law. No one, not even his sister would mourn him and with reason. Viserys was a fool no one took seriously and the guy had made a serious effort to secure that popular image.
Could be worse, considering the alternatives the strange... thing that had turned him into the exiled prince/wannabe king. The other two choices were Aegon the Unworthy on his last year of life and Doran Martell... on the TV series continuity the day of Ellaria's coup. At least here I'd have a marginally better chance at survival.
So in so far the list of priorities went this way:
1) Not get killed by my brother-in-law. I'm not a hipster so I'll wear my crown when it's cool, not before.
2) Not get killed. AT ALL. Once was enough, thank you.
3)Deal with the memories of the poor fella. Seriously the guy needed therapy ASAP (didn't excuse him of the many issues the guy had due to his own volition).
4) Get on Drogo's good side. Guy's got an army and I need it. So let's keep bitching up to a minimum and man up.
5) Get the bloody crown. "I" have spent my whole live in danger due to it, I'm not going to back down now.
6) Turn out to be a good king. I'm not a revolutionary and don't know how the great innovations work (and certainly I'm not going to be George Washington) but at least I can be a good administrator and lay the groundworks for a state that doesn't devolve into a civil war every half a century or less. Preferibly an english style monarchy rather than a french Road-To-Guillotine-Monarchy.
Okay that sounded like a plan. Now I just needed to pull six miracles to achieve these things. I was no genius and certainly no born leader. I knew a bit of combat (mainly Viserys' memories) but I'd be ridiculously outclassed by ANYONE worth a damn.
Well, this looked interesting. And by interested I meant I had a chance to make some serious fuckery around. First thing first: screw with Illyrio, he called "me" an utter fool so I'm just going to mess up a bit with his plans and confidence in his secretism.
"Your highness, Drogo soon will arrive." Announced Illyrio with his wide smile.
Time to bring in the bride then.
=================================================
The meeting had gone almost like usual...minus me trying to get an answer from Drogo and look totally pedantic. Oh and being totaly creepy to Daenerys with the whole: I'll let even the horses fuck you. Gods that was a horrible thing to say.
Now inside the manor, and preparing for the wedding, Illyrio and I were alone in his solar. And I felt like dropping the hammer, time to start switching the tempo.
"Illyrio I must thank you for all you've done but I must ask you three things."
"Your grace, the compliment is welcome and the request is clearly not too much for the rightful leader of the seven kingdums."
"Where's Aegon?"
His face's bright expresion clearly switched to one of surprise, albeit only a tad and it quickly regained its usual composure.
"My lord," He said in a thinly veiled condescendign tone. "Aegon is-"
"Aegon is alive and well, unless you're speaking of the tanner's son your friend Varys used to fool Clegane." I deadpanned. Now Illyrio's face started to lose color." Young Griff they call him nowadays. Honestly Connington could have used a better name to hide his identity, don't you think? At least he had the decency to dye his hair to not stick so much!" I snorted at that remark.
Illyrio was about to retort but I cut him short.
"I know full well you and Varys are friends, after all it was thanks to him that you're filthy rich: his... how did he call the oprhans he trained back then to be his spies? Mice was it? his mice stole and learned dirty secrets and you butted in to save the day for the poor targetted sod. Thus you'd become a model citizen to be offered a marriage by the city's Prince and my lord Father would bring the spider into his service. You two are privy to each other's secrets and conduct meetings from time to time beneath the secret passages of King's Landing."
My eyes were icy and stared intently at him. The magister had been caught off guard and with reason: this was supposed to be a gullible inbred moron! How come he knew the truth! Of course he could lie but the shield had been left down for too long to be a credible defence.
"How do you know it, your grace?" Came the strangled response of the flabbergasted Magister.
"Even a fool has its way of knowing things, magister, now shall we start coming clean? We have a wedding to attend after all."
FUCK.
This couldn't be. THIS COULDN'T BE.
Yet it WAS: I had no tanned skin,unless I had been so much under the sun my skin had bleached. No, this skin was very fair. I didn't have my plump features and jet black curls. Instead I had a gaunt face with lilac eyes and silver-blonde hair.
I was in a lavish palace whose balconies showed the seaview. Surrounding me were servant girls who eyed me stranged.
It was Illyrio's manse.
I had become Viserys Targaryen on the day of Daenery's wedding.
Curse my luck.
========================================
Chapter 1. The snake bares its fangs.
After panicking for a while (Hey, a bloody truck had ran over me and made me into a fictional character, give me a break), I decided to set straight priorities and circumstances:
Viserys was the epitome of a trainwreck. A royal prince who had lost EVERYTHING and went on to try to survive with his sister on the cities with no skill whatsoever. It would go as well as expected and a good mix of inbreeding and stress at such an age would bring the guy to utter madness and an early death at the hands of his very own brother in law. No one, not even his sister would mourn him and with reason. Viserys was a fool no one took seriously and the guy had made a serious effort to secure that popular image.
Could be worse, considering the alternatives the strange... thing that had turned him into the exiled prince/wannabe king. The other two choices were Aegon the Unworthy on his last year of life and Doran Martell... on the TV series continuity the day of Ellaria's coup. At least here I'd have a marginally better chance at survival.
So in so far the list of priorities went this way:
1) Not get killed by my brother-in-law. I'm not a hipster so I'll wear my crown when it's cool, not before.
2) Not get killed. AT ALL. Once was enough, thank you.
3)Deal with the memories of the poor fella. Seriously the guy needed therapy ASAP (didn't excuse him of the many issues the guy had due to his own volition).
4) Get on Drogo's good side. Guy's got an army and I need it. So let's keep bitching up to a minimum and man up.
5) Get the bloody crown. "I" have spent my whole live in danger due to it, I'm not going to back down now.
6) Turn out to be a good king. I'm not a revolutionary and don't know how the great innovations work (and certainly I'm not going to be George Washington) but at least I can be a good administrator and lay the groundworks for a state that doesn't devolve into a civil war every half a century or less. Preferibly an english style monarchy rather than a french Road-To-Guillotine-Monarchy.
Okay that sounded like a plan. Now I just needed to pull six miracles to achieve these things. I was no genius and certainly no born leader. I knew a bit of combat (mainly Viserys' memories) but I'd be ridiculously outclassed by ANYONE worth a damn.
Well, this looked interesting. And by interested I meant I had a chance to make some serious fuckery around. First thing first: screw with Illyrio, he called "me" an utter fool so I'm just going to mess up a bit with his plans and confidence in his secretism.
"Your highness, Drogo soon will arrive." Announced Illyrio with his wide smile.
Time to bring in the bride then.
=================================================
The meeting had gone almost like usual...minus me trying to get an answer from Drogo and look totally pedantic. Oh and being totaly creepy to Daenerys with the whole: I'll let even the horses fuck you. Gods that was a horrible thing to say.
Now inside the manor, and preparing for the wedding, Illyrio and I were alone in his solar. And I felt like dropping the hammer, time to start switching the tempo.
"Illyrio I must thank you for all you've done but I must ask you three things."
"Your grace, the compliment is welcome and the request is clearly not too much for the rightful leader of the seven kingdums."
"Where's Aegon?"
His face's bright expresion clearly switched to one of surprise, albeit only a tad and it quickly regained its usual composure.
"My lord," He said in a thinly veiled condescendign tone. "Aegon is-"
"Aegon is alive and well, unless you're speaking of the tanner's son your friend Varys used to fool Clegane." I deadpanned. Now Illyrio's face started to lose color." Young Griff they call him nowadays. Honestly Connington could have used a better name to hide his identity, don't you think? At least he had the decency to dye his hair to not stick so much!" I snorted at that remark.
Illyrio was about to retort but I cut him short.
"I know full well you and Varys are friends, after all it was thanks to him that you're filthy rich: his... how did he call the oprhans he trained back then to be his spies? Mice was it? his mice stole and learned dirty secrets and you butted in to save the day for the poor targetted sod. Thus you'd become a model citizen to be offered a marriage by the city's Prince and my lord Father would bring the spider into his service. You two are privy to each other's secrets and conduct meetings from time to time beneath the secret passages of King's Landing."
My eyes were icy and stared intently at him. The magister had been caught off guard and with reason: this was supposed to be a gullible inbred moron! How come he knew the truth! Of course he could lie but the shield had been left down for too long to be a credible defence.
"How do you know it, your grace?" Came the strangled response of the flabbergasted Magister.
"Even a fool has its way of knowing things, magister, now shall we start coming clean? We have a wedding to attend after all."
Last edited:
- Location
- Singapore
intriguing.
Would like to see more. Watched.
Would like to see more. Watched.
Chapter 2
LordKragan
The one and only lord of muttonchops
- Location
- Spain, Barcelona, bar du madam celona
Chapter 2. The coils move.
Illyrio soon regained his composure and made hearty chuckled, devoid of true humour and with a dangerous ring to it.
"If this "fool" knows this much then he must understand his worth," Said Illyrio idly but there was a cold tone to his voice."
"Absolutely none," I said matter of factly. "Daenerys is the one bringing the army and young Griff can bring us the land support as well by marrying Arianne, who's bethroded to me. I am perfectly replaceable, unless you count giving a solid backing-which, again, another person like my sister, could do- to Aegon's true identity. That is, of course if you don't consider my second question: are you going to believe what comes next?
Illyrio frowned and I decided to take a seat on his couch. Well, I had his attention and credibility (as well as antagonism, to be honest, my previsions are very long-term, aren't they?). I had to play my cards well now.
"I've been having dreams this days. Strange ones: I've seen the blackfyre rebellions, the dance of dragons, the sack of king's landing. I've seen you hold Serra's hands as she died from the plague," Illyrio shifted uncomfortably at the mention." And keep those stone hands in your bedroom."
"You've seen the past," murmured Illyrio incredule-for not even Varys knew he kept the hands of Serra, and he hadn't visited them in years- as he too took a seat and clearly saw what was going on next. "And you've seen the future, that's what are you going to say?"
"I feared that much, Daenys the dreamer had the capability of seeing the future in dreams, and the dragonlords' blood-aside from having a rather high chance of turning you into a raving madman-have strange powers linked to them,"I, of course, was kind of lying out of my ass. Visery's blood was about as special as a mass produced cookie. "Considering that you confirmed those dreams were actually accurate in regards to the past."
"So may be those regarding to the future," concluded Illyrio as he began tapping his fingers against his own desk.
"Not that I've seen all events, I must say but I'll tell you this: Jon Arryn will die poisoned in two days. Not by my hand but by either Petyr Baelish or Cersei Lannister's, don't ask me which one was, I didn't get the whole story,"I handwaved at that last bit. Honestly I didn't remember at all who exactly had been, since apparently there had been a few complications in the following books. I... think. "Robert Baratheon will go to Winterfell to get Eddard Stark as hand of the king and young Brandon Stark will fall from the broken tower after seeing the Lannister twins shag in secret."
"I, totally deserving it to be honest, will get my crown: it will be of molten metal poured over my head and will kill me. No one shall mourn me and my sister I was no true dragon. Robert will die in a hunting accident,triggering a massive civil war, as poison will be mixed in his wine by his own squire. Khal Drogo will die on the Lazharene lands and so will my sister's baby. Everything will start fall apart: Daenerys will be killed by the bloodriders and Aegon, fed up with waiting, will launch an attack on the stormlands, succeeding initially but will die in battle."
I totally made up those last lines but I'm not going to summarize the plot of five novels and the whole dragons' born out of magic angle.
"Things start getting out of hand after my death: Daenerys heads further eastward, to never return. Aegon goes alone with only the golden company as support. You need someone that can reign them together: you need me. Because I'm the only one that Daenerys will truly believe when she's told she has two nephews alive. Because I'm her brother and she'll pay heed to me." If i don't push things to much and be a bit less of an asshole.
Illyrio's eyes bulged as he was about to ask but Viserys cut him short:
"What do you think Lyanna was kidnapped for? Think of it: the Tower of Joy, far away from the conflict and protected by the finest of the Kingsguard. It wasn't a prison, it was a safe haven. Eddard Stark, after learning this decided to take the newborn boy as his own bastard son. Lyanna died giving birth and the truth remains hidden between Eddard and Lord Howland," I perched myself onwards. "He'll go to the wall in a matter of weeks. It's fine, he has a function to accomplish there. Because we need him to be ready for what's to come," now my words were barely a whisper. "Illyrio, winter is coming and so does the Long Night, we cannot allow ourselves to bleed the realm to death, or else we won't have the strength to face it... we need to act swiftly and with force."
As I explained across the most of an hour, Illyrio's face was turning palid like a bone. Considering how detailed I was being-courtesy of my well honed (thanks economical history!) memory- it was hard to think of me as (more of) a madman, specially considering how I nailed the prior events I was supposed to not know about. By the end of everything the Magister was almost convinced on the fact that I was necessary, thinking my prescience would be of great use. Thus I ended up being privy of their plan and I got to contact Varys and gave him a set of instructions in order to do something I felt necessary.
History needed to change, for the I doubted that, even with dragons, we could survive the war against the White Walkers.
Five days later, Illyrio would receive news from the death of Jon Arryn, he'd been poisoned and suffered a very quick death, said Varys.
======================================
Winterfell, a week later (day of the execution).
Eddard Stark's face was somber when he received the news they had captured a deserter from the Night's Watch. Such a thing wasn't too common but not unheard of.
It was the circumstances involving.
One day, very soon, a deserter from the wall will be caught in your lands.
The letter, which he had received the previous afternoon, had predicted so.
When he reached the veteran of the nightguard, a man scare out of his wits, the poor fellow spoke about White Walkers. Eddard considered it the ravings of a madman.
He isn't lying, Ned. Winter is comming, and the White Walkers bring the storm.
He had predicted all this? What kind of sorcery had he used? It was the only explanation he could find, specially regarding the last lines.
Let the dragon spread his wings. He'll ask you to fly to the wall and remain there. Let him. You promised her you'd keep him safe, but time has come for him to be free. Winter is coming, we don't need a Snow. We need the dragon to defend ourselves against the darkness.
Illyrio soon regained his composure and made hearty chuckled, devoid of true humour and with a dangerous ring to it.
"If this "fool" knows this much then he must understand his worth," Said Illyrio idly but there was a cold tone to his voice."
"Absolutely none," I said matter of factly. "Daenerys is the one bringing the army and young Griff can bring us the land support as well by marrying Arianne, who's bethroded to me. I am perfectly replaceable, unless you count giving a solid backing-which, again, another person like my sister, could do- to Aegon's true identity. That is, of course if you don't consider my second question: are you going to believe what comes next?
Illyrio frowned and I decided to take a seat on his couch. Well, I had his attention and credibility (as well as antagonism, to be honest, my previsions are very long-term, aren't they?). I had to play my cards well now.
"I've been having dreams this days. Strange ones: I've seen the blackfyre rebellions, the dance of dragons, the sack of king's landing. I've seen you hold Serra's hands as she died from the plague," Illyrio shifted uncomfortably at the mention." And keep those stone hands in your bedroom."
"You've seen the past," murmured Illyrio incredule-for not even Varys knew he kept the hands of Serra, and he hadn't visited them in years- as he too took a seat and clearly saw what was going on next. "And you've seen the future, that's what are you going to say?"
"I feared that much, Daenys the dreamer had the capability of seeing the future in dreams, and the dragonlords' blood-aside from having a rather high chance of turning you into a raving madman-have strange powers linked to them,"I, of course, was kind of lying out of my ass. Visery's blood was about as special as a mass produced cookie. "Considering that you confirmed those dreams were actually accurate in regards to the past."
"So may be those regarding to the future," concluded Illyrio as he began tapping his fingers against his own desk.
"Not that I've seen all events, I must say but I'll tell you this: Jon Arryn will die poisoned in two days. Not by my hand but by either Petyr Baelish or Cersei Lannister's, don't ask me which one was, I didn't get the whole story,"I handwaved at that last bit. Honestly I didn't remember at all who exactly had been, since apparently there had been a few complications in the following books. I... think. "Robert Baratheon will go to Winterfell to get Eddard Stark as hand of the king and young Brandon Stark will fall from the broken tower after seeing the Lannister twins shag in secret."
"I, totally deserving it to be honest, will get my crown: it will be of molten metal poured over my head and will kill me. No one shall mourn me and my sister I was no true dragon. Robert will die in a hunting accident,triggering a massive civil war, as poison will be mixed in his wine by his own squire. Khal Drogo will die on the Lazharene lands and so will my sister's baby. Everything will start fall apart: Daenerys will be killed by the bloodriders and Aegon, fed up with waiting, will launch an attack on the stormlands, succeeding initially but will die in battle."
I totally made up those last lines but I'm not going to summarize the plot of five novels and the whole dragons' born out of magic angle.
"Things start getting out of hand after my death: Daenerys heads further eastward, to never return. Aegon goes alone with only the golden company as support. You need someone that can reign them together: you need me. Because I'm the only one that Daenerys will truly believe when she's told she has two nephews alive. Because I'm her brother and she'll pay heed to me." If i don't push things to much and be a bit less of an asshole.
Illyrio's eyes bulged as he was about to ask but Viserys cut him short:
"What do you think Lyanna was kidnapped for? Think of it: the Tower of Joy, far away from the conflict and protected by the finest of the Kingsguard. It wasn't a prison, it was a safe haven. Eddard Stark, after learning this decided to take the newborn boy as his own bastard son. Lyanna died giving birth and the truth remains hidden between Eddard and Lord Howland," I perched myself onwards. "He'll go to the wall in a matter of weeks. It's fine, he has a function to accomplish there. Because we need him to be ready for what's to come," now my words were barely a whisper. "Illyrio, winter is coming and so does the Long Night, we cannot allow ourselves to bleed the realm to death, or else we won't have the strength to face it... we need to act swiftly and with force."
As I explained across the most of an hour, Illyrio's face was turning palid like a bone. Considering how detailed I was being-courtesy of my well honed (thanks economical history!) memory- it was hard to think of me as (more of) a madman, specially considering how I nailed the prior events I was supposed to not know about. By the end of everything the Magister was almost convinced on the fact that I was necessary, thinking my prescience would be of great use. Thus I ended up being privy of their plan and I got to contact Varys and gave him a set of instructions in order to do something I felt necessary.
History needed to change, for the I doubted that, even with dragons, we could survive the war against the White Walkers.
Five days later, Illyrio would receive news from the death of Jon Arryn, he'd been poisoned and suffered a very quick death, said Varys.
======================================
Winterfell, a week later (day of the execution).
Eddard Stark's face was somber when he received the news they had captured a deserter from the Night's Watch. Such a thing wasn't too common but not unheard of.
It was the circumstances involving.
One day, very soon, a deserter from the wall will be caught in your lands.
The letter, which he had received the previous afternoon, had predicted so.
When he reached the veteran of the nightguard, a man scare out of his wits, the poor fellow spoke about White Walkers. Eddard considered it the ravings of a madman.
He isn't lying, Ned. Winter is comming, and the White Walkers bring the storm.
He had predicted all this? What kind of sorcery had he used? It was the only explanation he could find, specially regarding the last lines.
Let the dragon spread his wings. He'll ask you to fly to the wall and remain there. Let him. You promised her you'd keep him safe, but time has come for him to be free. Winter is coming, we don't need a Snow. We need the dragon to defend ourselves against the darkness.
Don't want to be that guy, but this starts with an effusive display of capitalization where it really isn't needed, and makes it all of thirteen words in before committing a basic mistake of grammar. Also some spelling mistakes are immediately obvious, so this could really use a beta. Or at least a basic spell-check. I refuse to believe Microsoft Word wouldn't solve most of these problems.
LordKragan
The one and only lord of muttonchops
- Location
- Spain, Barcelona, bar du madam celona
That or a non-native english speaker forgot about switching to english before publishing it. Thanks nevertheless.
- Location
- first line of the army of light.
you would be amazed how often that a non English speaker has this problem on this board i know of at least five stories were this is the case. ---- edit still not used to how this new tablet spaces it's keyboard.
Last edited:
Z000
If this is trash, then find me in the dumpster
- Location
- Viet Nam
The Japanese Truck service have infiltrated another country
( Japanese Web novel use Truck to kill people for reincarnation or transport plot alot)
LordKragan
The one and only lord of muttonchops
- Location
- Spain, Barcelona, bar du madam celona
I intentionally did it. At least I died manly by getting my whole body crushed, unlike a certain someone who died from the fright.
- Location
- Nowhere
"I died like a man! Punching the truck in the grill, ripping a tire off with my teeth and shoving a potato in the exhaust pipe!"
themisticShroud
The Red King And His Court
- Location
- The Seireitei
LordKragan
The one and only lord of muttonchops
- Location
- Spain, Barcelona, bar du madam celona
In fact I ripped apart the vehicle and sent half of it flying straight into a mass of terrorists that tried to destroy the Queen of England!
Chapter 3
LordKragan
The one and only lord of muttonchops
- Location
- Spain, Barcelona, bar du madam celona
Aaaanyway.
Chapter 3. Laying groundworks.
(two weeks later)
I'm an idiot.
Like, how the fuck can I pull such a stunt!?
I can see the future. Yes I can see it, and it involves not a molten gold crown but a coat of blades stuck in my back. How can I be so mentally retarded as to come up with THAT?
Screw butterflies I've unleashed the tornado already, don't even want to know what awaits at the other side fo the world.
Okay, let's calm down. If the oracle of Delphi, drugged up on her ass from the chasm's smokes could be believed to predict the future so "can" I. I just have to not get caught, luckily I hadn't told the whole truth. The ironborn threat, Mance's mass raiding, Melissandre's shadow clones. And the birth of Dragons.
I just pray I didn't change things too much. The dragons not hatching would be a major fuck-up. Then again, having them do fuck-all in Essos while Dany played Babe Lincoln (and buttfucked Slaver's Bay into a Warzone that would make Bush blush) was also a major fuck-up.
And here lied the problem: I couldn't just go and swing wildly my knowledge. Bran Stark most likely wouldn't be a greenseer if it weren't for the accident, so he had to suffer, and he needed to be pushed forcefully by the Ironborn or else he wouldn't go beyond the Wall and meet Bloodraven. Robert needed to die because him being around would negate any chance of semi-civilized deals with Westeros. That meant Ned too needed to die due to slowly uncovering the truth. I needed the War of the Five Kings to happen: a split Westeros would be ripe for faster conquest and my intervention (with the right propaganda and rumor-mongering) would be viewed as a savior's actions. But at the same time I couldn't allow it to be too brutal. The timeline had to maintain itself as intact as possible at least until the Battle of the Blackwater , that was my deadline: beyond there the casualties would be too high and the Lannisters would have too much power, with all the wealth of the Westerlands, the might of the Reach and the Stormlands.
To be honest, my whole plan was a mass of one-off events. One of them failed to happen? I could start asking Drogo for the molten gold crown. Then again I've played Sid Meier's civilization on deity so I'm used to face unfavourable odds, albeit not with such a high stakes. And I almost never won those games... yeah, not the best of analogies.
Speaking of getting caught. There was a naughty bear around, wasn't there?
================================
Jorah wrote his message to the Spider on a stone. He tried to remember properly anything of note so the sider would be up to date. There was quite a bit.
Viserys, contrary to what he initially though, blended rather nicely. He adopted the dothraki clothing and didn't complain when riding. He tried to learn their tongue and had asked Khal Drogo to be taught the art of archery. He had become more gentle in his treatment of Daenerys too it was-
"Tell me, is the Spider up to date?"
Jorah sprung from his place and turned to see the "king" smiling, a smile that didn't reach his eyes at all.
"So tell me, has Robert's royal pardon arrived yet or do you need to forward our severed heads before getting it?" Jorah made a motion to draw his sword but Viserys clicked his tongue. "Ah ah ah, me dying won't serve you a lot: I've written a message to my sister telling you're a traitor, and it's in a rather easy to find location. If I appear dead you'll be hunted down by a vengeful sister and a whole Khalassar. Are you sure you can best 100.000 riders? Do you think you can outride a dothraki?"
Jorah looked at him. It may be a bluff, considering Viserys wasn't very popular (at all) amongst the dothraki. But he knew the relationship between Viserys and Daenerys was going better and the Khalessi was in a rather good position amongst the dothraki. They'd do indeed ride and hunt him down at her behest. He didn't want to take the chances.
"Now, you surely will ask yourself what do I want. Simple: keep writing."
Jorah looked him without understanding until the realization quicly dawned on him.
"You want me to feed them fake information."
Viserys simply grinned and left.
"I recommend you make quite disparaging remarks related to me. Dunno, say the Dothraki are calling me Khal Raggat and mocking me non-stop or something like that. Varys told me he'd work out the details."
================================
After the noon, when sunlight began fading away, I asked Daenerys to accompany to my tent. She agreed to it, considering I had used the magical words of please and would you kindly. She, as was beffiting of the sister of an abusive guy, was mildly tense, but I tried to pay no heed, least I worsened the situation.
Inside my tent was a small table and two stools, parchment quill and ink the magister had provided me in enough volume to last me a couple months.
She gave me a quizzical look. I simply nodded her to take a seat while I proceeded to explain.
"Daenerys, across this years, between all the fleeing away and beggaring," I sounded quite bitter at that last word, Daenery's looked a bit uncomfortable, but stood still. "I've not paid enough attention to your education: yes, you can read and write, but you barely know any languages nor history, your mathematical-" she gave me a stranged look, whoops, apparently they ought to use "numbers" instead of maths... I will work on it. "numbers must be next to non-existant and... well, I could go on listing what I ought to have taught you but didn't."
"Sister, soon the day will come where we will draw our swords and get entangled in battle: be it against the forces of the Usurper or another Khalassar.
I really wasn't eager to die but, just in case things went out of hand (and this being Planetos, WOULD happen) the heirs to House Targaryen were prepared for ruling.
"There may be a chance I cannot see you, then it will befell in your shoulders the weight of House Targaryen, either as ruler of the seven kingdoms or as a proud Khalessi of the Horselords: trust me, education can be of use even amongst the dothrakis, you just will need to apply it."
" Proud Khalessi, You seem to have come to respect the dothraki, you still have come to call them horse fuckers," Daenery's smile warmed up.
"Considering that I am family with one and that my army-if I ever get one- will be composed by them I guess it's kind of the due, isn't it? Being haughty and prideful brought us a lot of good fortunes back then in the past, so I think it won't hurt too much to switch my behavior."
And without further ado we began the session. Today I gave a bit of history to her, going to the days of the conquest and the foundation of the kingdoms. Daenerys knew a bit of it, but many events such as Orys' story or the resistance of Dorne where an unknown to her. For well over two hours (well, the time we weren't fooling and making silly jokes, we were siblings after all) I taught her and we finished with a bit of questions to see wether or not he had learnt well.
She had laughed that day. Heartily and without fear. The bonds Viserys had made so many efforts to crush under his misguided authoritarianism were slightly healed.
This: learning ,and people that cared for her and safetey, what she should have had during her early childhood. What both of them should have had. Barristan said Visery's insanity was there from the beginning. In so far I'm not entirely sure wether or not the man was right.
The question is wether or not things would be able to keep up this way. Was my sister's happiness and love worth the might of the Dragons? The remnants of viserys and a part of me said yes, it was the only reliable way to fend off the darkness. The other part of me wasn't so sure.
Chapter 3. Laying groundworks.
(two weeks later)
I'm an idiot.
Like, how the fuck can I pull such a stunt!?
I can see the future. Yes I can see it, and it involves not a molten gold crown but a coat of blades stuck in my back. How can I be so mentally retarded as to come up with THAT?
Screw butterflies I've unleashed the tornado already, don't even want to know what awaits at the other side fo the world.
Okay, let's calm down. If the oracle of Delphi, drugged up on her ass from the chasm's smokes could be believed to predict the future so "can" I. I just have to not get caught, luckily I hadn't told the whole truth. The ironborn threat, Mance's mass raiding, Melissandre's shadow clones. And the birth of Dragons.
I just pray I didn't change things too much. The dragons not hatching would be a major fuck-up. Then again, having them do fuck-all in Essos while Dany played Babe Lincoln (and buttfucked Slaver's Bay into a Warzone that would make Bush blush) was also a major fuck-up.
And here lied the problem: I couldn't just go and swing wildly my knowledge. Bran Stark most likely wouldn't be a greenseer if it weren't for the accident, so he had to suffer, and he needed to be pushed forcefully by the Ironborn or else he wouldn't go beyond the Wall and meet Bloodraven. Robert needed to die because him being around would negate any chance of semi-civilized deals with Westeros. That meant Ned too needed to die due to slowly uncovering the truth. I needed the War of the Five Kings to happen: a split Westeros would be ripe for faster conquest and my intervention (with the right propaganda and rumor-mongering) would be viewed as a savior's actions. But at the same time I couldn't allow it to be too brutal. The timeline had to maintain itself as intact as possible at least until the Battle of the Blackwater , that was my deadline: beyond there the casualties would be too high and the Lannisters would have too much power, with all the wealth of the Westerlands, the might of the Reach and the Stormlands.
To be honest, my whole plan was a mass of one-off events. One of them failed to happen? I could start asking Drogo for the molten gold crown. Then again I've played Sid Meier's civilization on deity so I'm used to face unfavourable odds, albeit not with such a high stakes. And I almost never won those games... yeah, not the best of analogies.
Speaking of getting caught. There was a naughty bear around, wasn't there?
================================
Jorah wrote his message to the Spider on a stone. He tried to remember properly anything of note so the sider would be up to date. There was quite a bit.
Viserys, contrary to what he initially though, blended rather nicely. He adopted the dothraki clothing and didn't complain when riding. He tried to learn their tongue and had asked Khal Drogo to be taught the art of archery. He had become more gentle in his treatment of Daenerys too it was-
"Tell me, is the Spider up to date?"
Jorah sprung from his place and turned to see the "king" smiling, a smile that didn't reach his eyes at all.
"So tell me, has Robert's royal pardon arrived yet or do you need to forward our severed heads before getting it?" Jorah made a motion to draw his sword but Viserys clicked his tongue. "Ah ah ah, me dying won't serve you a lot: I've written a message to my sister telling you're a traitor, and it's in a rather easy to find location. If I appear dead you'll be hunted down by a vengeful sister and a whole Khalassar. Are you sure you can best 100.000 riders? Do you think you can outride a dothraki?"
Jorah looked at him. It may be a bluff, considering Viserys wasn't very popular (at all) amongst the dothraki. But he knew the relationship between Viserys and Daenerys was going better and the Khalessi was in a rather good position amongst the dothraki. They'd do indeed ride and hunt him down at her behest. He didn't want to take the chances.
"Now, you surely will ask yourself what do I want. Simple: keep writing."
Jorah looked him without understanding until the realization quicly dawned on him.
"You want me to feed them fake information."
Viserys simply grinned and left.
"I recommend you make quite disparaging remarks related to me. Dunno, say the Dothraki are calling me Khal Raggat and mocking me non-stop or something like that. Varys told me he'd work out the details."
================================
After the noon, when sunlight began fading away, I asked Daenerys to accompany to my tent. She agreed to it, considering I had used the magical words of please and would you kindly. She, as was beffiting of the sister of an abusive guy, was mildly tense, but I tried to pay no heed, least I worsened the situation.
Inside my tent was a small table and two stools, parchment quill and ink the magister had provided me in enough volume to last me a couple months.
She gave me a quizzical look. I simply nodded her to take a seat while I proceeded to explain.
"Daenerys, across this years, between all the fleeing away and beggaring," I sounded quite bitter at that last word, Daenery's looked a bit uncomfortable, but stood still. "I've not paid enough attention to your education: yes, you can read and write, but you barely know any languages nor history, your mathematical-" she gave me a stranged look, whoops, apparently they ought to use "numbers" instead of maths... I will work on it. "numbers must be next to non-existant and... well, I could go on listing what I ought to have taught you but didn't."
"Sister, soon the day will come where we will draw our swords and get entangled in battle: be it against the forces of the Usurper or another Khalassar.
I really wasn't eager to die but, just in case things went out of hand (and this being Planetos, WOULD happen) the heirs to House Targaryen were prepared for ruling.
"There may be a chance I cannot see you, then it will befell in your shoulders the weight of House Targaryen, either as ruler of the seven kingdoms or as a proud Khalessi of the Horselords: trust me, education can be of use even amongst the dothrakis, you just will need to apply it."
" Proud Khalessi, You seem to have come to respect the dothraki, you still have come to call them horse fuckers," Daenery's smile warmed up.
"Considering that I am family with one and that my army-if I ever get one- will be composed by them I guess it's kind of the due, isn't it? Being haughty and prideful brought us a lot of good fortunes back then in the past, so I think it won't hurt too much to switch my behavior."
And without further ado we began the session. Today I gave a bit of history to her, going to the days of the conquest and the foundation of the kingdoms. Daenerys knew a bit of it, but many events such as Orys' story or the resistance of Dorne where an unknown to her. For well over two hours (well, the time we weren't fooling and making silly jokes, we were siblings after all) I taught her and we finished with a bit of questions to see wether or not he had learnt well.
She had laughed that day. Heartily and without fear. The bonds Viserys had made so many efforts to crush under his misguided authoritarianism were slightly healed.
This: learning ,and people that cared for her and safetey, what she should have had during her early childhood. What both of them should have had. Barristan said Visery's insanity was there from the beginning. In so far I'm not entirely sure wether or not the man was right.
The question is wether or not things would be able to keep up this way. Was my sister's happiness and love worth the might of the Dragons? The remnants of viserys and a part of me said yes, it was the only reliable way to fend off the darkness. The other part of me wasn't so sure.
Last edited:
- Location
- East of Sun, West of Moon
Not bad so far. I like your approach to political intrigue; it is beyond blunt, but because of your out-of-context knowledge, you come across as scary competent... For now. It will be interesting to see whether you'll develop the skills to match, be caught for the amateur you are and have to deal with the fallout, or have ROB arrange a series of fortunate events to help you out (that can still be fun to read, if done right).
I like how Viserys acts in here, of course ingratiating himself to the future mother of 3 dragons goes a long way to protecting yourself from Ice zombies, or enemy armies. There isn't a lot that dragon fire can't deal with.
Some minor corrections:
Some minor corrections:
siblings
people
LordKragan
The one and only lord of muttonchops
- Location
- Spain, Barcelona, bar du madam celona
Of course, now it's just about throwing the tempo off balance. Say: hey, I'm not an utter fool! And getting the right contacts here and there: right now King's Landing is blinded to what happens in the dothraki sea. Only Varys actually knows what goes in truth and is starting to put in motion the secret plantm to help out the Targaryens.
SI is going to give up on bow lessons and instead see if he can make himself a sling, which is the most sensible thing he can do considering he know very well how to use it, as it corresponds to his people's tradition. And trust me, they are brutal: better range and more precise than most westerosi bows. He's gotta get the dothraki's street cred.
Next step is ensuring everything goes according to plan: the timeline is more or less followed but some minor changes are around to maximize utility.
- Location
- California
Daenerys is the Catherine of GOT?
LordKragan
The one and only lord of muttonchops
- Location
- Spain, Barcelona, bar du madam celona
Do you mean catherine de medici?
- Location
- Kanegawa, Japan
That random switch to third person. And strangely is the word I think you are looking for.
Chapter 4
LordKragan
The one and only lord of muttonchops
- Location
- Spain, Barcelona, bar du madam celona
Chapter 4. Of spiders, griffins and cats
==========================
Brandon Stark had fallen from the Broken Tower of Winterfell.
Shivers had ran through lord Varys' spine. The king had divinated it.
Varys had always been distrustful of magic but understood its uses if they were the real deal and not the work of some deranged charlatan.
Jon Arryn and Bran stark. Two out of two. And he had guessed perfectly the motives and reasons behind it.
Then that meant:
Robert Baratheon will die in a hunt accident during the year. Eddard Stark will uncover the truth of Cersei's sons and be executed. Stannis and Renly will know of it and a civil war will spark between the three stags and the northener secesionist. This outcome is of our interest but up to a degree: the Seven Kingdoms must be divided but not ravaged, time is of the essence and my visions must be changed at key points: you'll ensure the Stark daughter's departure of King's Landing. Otherwise lady Catelyn will do something very stupid that will bring the ruin of the Northener cause. It will also ingratiate us with the saviors of my nephew and perhaps get us on our side. I will contact you whenever I get a relevant dreams and or something changes: these last nights I saw a dream of Balon Greyjoy dying, thrown from a bridge. But the account varies: he's either thrown by a spawn of black sorcery or by his own brother, and the date of this event varies too, albeit only for a couple of months. I need to make sure I'm not giving you the wrong information as events unravel.
Beware the red maiden of Asshai and Littlefinger. They are the two most dangerous agents we will face in this War in the Shadow.
Varys read in great detail the rest of the letter, talking about ideas that could be useful as well as a rough layout for a contingency plan.
P.S. Eddard Stark will throw a fit at the tourney of the hand and the debt we have he will say: We are in three millions of dragons of debt!? This is just miscellania but regarding that tournament: Arryn's squire, who must be knight by now or soon enough (again, I've seen him become a knight either the day after Jon's death or when Robert comes back to the city), will participate on it and be killed by Clegane's lance. There is nothing accidental on it. My point: if, by any chance, he doesn't die...kill him, we need Stark grasping in the dark for as long as possible.
Robert had said he'd knight the young man when he'd come back to the North. There had been no new spy networks in the city and he hadn't told this much to the King. He also knew of Jon's true heritage.
Fine then, he'd be the one with the strings pulled. Seen how he knew what he was doing (for the most part), Varys decided it was best to heed him (up to a point) in this war of cloak and dagger soon would start. Littlefinger's cronies were buzzing across the city and the queens, both the royal one and the one of thorns, were on alert. Tense didn't begin to describe the state of affairs.
Turning to one of his little birds, Varys spoke:
"Dear, contact the rest of the flock from here to the neck."
With a nod the urchin sped up to the rookery of the abandoned manor where Varys operated.
"My lord," said another of his birds."Do you want something out of us?"
"Yes please,"began the spider in a very soft tone. "I need you to find a man named Hugh of the Vale. Tail this knight but don't do anything until I ask you otherwise."
Meanwhile the spider had gone out towards one of the many brothels of King's Landing. Baelish wasn't the only one with ears in the pleasure houses. He knew the bones of the matter, now the spider needed to flesh it.
There was a thread of crumbs he needed to leave and a gluttonous bird t avoid eating them and pinching Varys.
==========================
Again Aegon, or young Griff, kissed the grassfield's ground as Duckfield beat him with his wooden sword. With a hearty chuckle, the knight offered his hand to the young Targaryen so he could rise with more ease.
"You're still a bit green, but you did very well," congratulated the Knight with a wide grin. "Ready for another round?"
With just a nod, Aegon, readied his stance and circled alongside Duckfield. Both side-stepped slowly, careful to not give away any opening. All of a sudden, Duckfield charged with a downward sweep. Aegon prepared his blade to parry, succeeded and... again kissed the ground as Duckfield's leg kicked him on the stomach.
"That was a dirty move!" Dennounced Aegon.
"Hahaha, a mercenary won't make the same complaint and you may end up fighting more than a couple of those!"
Fuming, the young boy rose again up to the challenge.
Jon Connington smiled at that scene. A smile that soon faded when he remembered what was coming. Soon they'd come back to Westeros, the civil war about to spark if the spider and the "snake" were to be believed. That meant the boy was in danger... something he'd NOT allow.
Still that was in the future. For how long was another matter.
"Griff!" Bellowed Connington. "Come here to your lesons."
Aegon seemed to utter a complaint but Jon didn't pay heed.
"Young boy, you're going to study NOW!"
With a voice that left room to no negotiation, Aegon understood he'd have to sit down and read and do numbers. Walking towards the camp to meet the halfmaester, Aegon obeyed-with a healthy amount of grumbling.
Jon Connington and smiled again, and another time the smile faded. For how long this would last was another matter he had barely a response for.
Was the boy he considered a son ready for the Iron Throne? Could Jon and him wrestle it from his uncle and an army of dothrakis?
==========================
He slept in his bed, calm and unaware of his own pain.
It wasn't fair.
Tommen Baratheon stared at Bran Stark as he laid in bed, his legs broken beyond repair. He hadn't been told but he had overheard the adults speak.
His eyes were reddened from the tears. It wasn't fair, Brandon didn't deserve to die. He was supposed to be a great knight who would see the world.
Upon remembering, tears flowed agan and he shook his head. Gods please, do a miracle! He cried to them and begged for saving the future of his friend. He deserved more than this.
"Sweetie, let's go," said his mother as she bid farewell to lady stark. "Poor little thing."
It wasn't fair. Chorused non-stop his conscience.
"That little savage had it coming, he was being a fool and sooner or latter he'd have fallen," Joffrey made a cruel grin as he laughed in a low tone at his "wit".
"Joffrey, don't say that so close to the Starks," admonished Cersei, but her face didn't show it as a sincere chastising. "They are to be your family, so be sympathetic to your family's loses."
Their mother left them to meet other ladies of the court and left Joffrey and Tommen alone. Then his brother lashed his arm and smacked Tommen on the cheek. Once twice and thrice the hand stroke him viciously.
"YOU BLOODY FOOL, MAN UP YOU WIMPERING IDIOT!" snarled Joffrey. "BUAH, BUAH, BUAH, THE SAVAGE GOT HURT SO I ACT LIKE A BABY! YOU'RE PATHETIC!"
Tommen had falled into the floor now he crossed his arms in defense. He shivered in fear at his borther's rage. Joffrey stared him and shook his head before turning and leaving.
"You're pathetic," said Joffrey with a whisper filled with contempt and disdain.
Tommen had learnt long ago, when the cat of the castle had been killed by his brother-children in the belly included- and his brother had received no punishment for it, that the world wasn't fair. It had a lot of smallfolk having many hardships, they didn't smile at all because, he heard, they were hungry. Nobles like him took too much. There were nobles that were also bad people, like the mountain and his brother. Others had been forced too, like the poor hound, wounded beyond repair just for playing. Many had more than what they deserved.
It wasn't fair.
The world could be cold and cruel, but Tommen knew nothing could change just by saying " it isn't fair". He needed to act and change. Only then, as his father once said, things would be set straight. Wimpering will bring you nowhere. Now, doing it? All the way up to the end of the business!
Using his shirt's sleeves to wipe the tears and possible snot, Tommen shook his head. He'd change it, he promised it. Bran and the sad people deserved it. The world wasn't fair but he'd try to make it, even if just a bit, even if it took him a lot of effort.
People deserved to smile, to be happy, remembered Tommen as a determined smile was drawn in his face.
=================================
As you see, the SI is playing with the different events of the timelines. That way he gets a bit of quarter and margin of operation in case he has a mistake or not. He's rampaged through the scene and gotten his seat and now he must be clever in keeping it.
==========================
Brandon Stark had fallen from the Broken Tower of Winterfell.
Shivers had ran through lord Varys' spine. The king had divinated it.
Varys had always been distrustful of magic but understood its uses if they were the real deal and not the work of some deranged charlatan.
Jon Arryn and Bran stark. Two out of two. And he had guessed perfectly the motives and reasons behind it.
Then that meant:
Robert Baratheon will die in a hunt accident during the year. Eddard Stark will uncover the truth of Cersei's sons and be executed. Stannis and Renly will know of it and a civil war will spark between the three stags and the northener secesionist. This outcome is of our interest but up to a degree: the Seven Kingdoms must be divided but not ravaged, time is of the essence and my visions must be changed at key points: you'll ensure the Stark daughter's departure of King's Landing. Otherwise lady Catelyn will do something very stupid that will bring the ruin of the Northener cause. It will also ingratiate us with the saviors of my nephew and perhaps get us on our side. I will contact you whenever I get a relevant dreams and or something changes: these last nights I saw a dream of Balon Greyjoy dying, thrown from a bridge. But the account varies: he's either thrown by a spawn of black sorcery or by his own brother, and the date of this event varies too, albeit only for a couple of months. I need to make sure I'm not giving you the wrong information as events unravel.
Beware the red maiden of Asshai and Littlefinger. They are the two most dangerous agents we will face in this War in the Shadow.
Varys read in great detail the rest of the letter, talking about ideas that could be useful as well as a rough layout for a contingency plan.
P.S. Eddard Stark will throw a fit at the tourney of the hand and the debt we have he will say: We are in three millions of dragons of debt!? This is just miscellania but regarding that tournament: Arryn's squire, who must be knight by now or soon enough (again, I've seen him become a knight either the day after Jon's death or when Robert comes back to the city), will participate on it and be killed by Clegane's lance. There is nothing accidental on it. My point: if, by any chance, he doesn't die...kill him, we need Stark grasping in the dark for as long as possible.
Robert had said he'd knight the young man when he'd come back to the North. There had been no new spy networks in the city and he hadn't told this much to the King. He also knew of Jon's true heritage.
Fine then, he'd be the one with the strings pulled. Seen how he knew what he was doing (for the most part), Varys decided it was best to heed him (up to a point) in this war of cloak and dagger soon would start. Littlefinger's cronies were buzzing across the city and the queens, both the royal one and the one of thorns, were on alert. Tense didn't begin to describe the state of affairs.
Turning to one of his little birds, Varys spoke:
"Dear, contact the rest of the flock from here to the neck."
With a nod the urchin sped up to the rookery of the abandoned manor where Varys operated.
"My lord," said another of his birds."Do you want something out of us?"
"Yes please,"began the spider in a very soft tone. "I need you to find a man named Hugh of the Vale. Tail this knight but don't do anything until I ask you otherwise."
Meanwhile the spider had gone out towards one of the many brothels of King's Landing. Baelish wasn't the only one with ears in the pleasure houses. He knew the bones of the matter, now the spider needed to flesh it.
There was a thread of crumbs he needed to leave and a gluttonous bird t avoid eating them and pinching Varys.
==========================
Again Aegon, or young Griff, kissed the grassfield's ground as Duckfield beat him with his wooden sword. With a hearty chuckle, the knight offered his hand to the young Targaryen so he could rise with more ease.
"You're still a bit green, but you did very well," congratulated the Knight with a wide grin. "Ready for another round?"
With just a nod, Aegon, readied his stance and circled alongside Duckfield. Both side-stepped slowly, careful to not give away any opening. All of a sudden, Duckfield charged with a downward sweep. Aegon prepared his blade to parry, succeeded and... again kissed the ground as Duckfield's leg kicked him on the stomach.
"That was a dirty move!" Dennounced Aegon.
"Hahaha, a mercenary won't make the same complaint and you may end up fighting more than a couple of those!"
Fuming, the young boy rose again up to the challenge.
Jon Connington smiled at that scene. A smile that soon faded when he remembered what was coming. Soon they'd come back to Westeros, the civil war about to spark if the spider and the "snake" were to be believed. That meant the boy was in danger... something he'd NOT allow.
Still that was in the future. For how long was another matter.
"Griff!" Bellowed Connington. "Come here to your lesons."
Aegon seemed to utter a complaint but Jon didn't pay heed.
"Young boy, you're going to study NOW!"
With a voice that left room to no negotiation, Aegon understood he'd have to sit down and read and do numbers. Walking towards the camp to meet the halfmaester, Aegon obeyed-with a healthy amount of grumbling.
Jon Connington and smiled again, and another time the smile faded. For how long this would last was another matter he had barely a response for.
Was the boy he considered a son ready for the Iron Throne? Could Jon and him wrestle it from his uncle and an army of dothrakis?
==========================
He slept in his bed, calm and unaware of his own pain.
It wasn't fair.
Tommen Baratheon stared at Bran Stark as he laid in bed, his legs broken beyond repair. He hadn't been told but he had overheard the adults speak.
His eyes were reddened from the tears. It wasn't fair, Brandon didn't deserve to die. He was supposed to be a great knight who would see the world.
Upon remembering, tears flowed agan and he shook his head. Gods please, do a miracle! He cried to them and begged for saving the future of his friend. He deserved more than this.
"Sweetie, let's go," said his mother as she bid farewell to lady stark. "Poor little thing."
It wasn't fair. Chorused non-stop his conscience.
"That little savage had it coming, he was being a fool and sooner or latter he'd have fallen," Joffrey made a cruel grin as he laughed in a low tone at his "wit".
"Joffrey, don't say that so close to the Starks," admonished Cersei, but her face didn't show it as a sincere chastising. "They are to be your family, so be sympathetic to your family's loses."
Their mother left them to meet other ladies of the court and left Joffrey and Tommen alone. Then his brother lashed his arm and smacked Tommen on the cheek. Once twice and thrice the hand stroke him viciously.
"YOU BLOODY FOOL, MAN UP YOU WIMPERING IDIOT!" snarled Joffrey. "BUAH, BUAH, BUAH, THE SAVAGE GOT HURT SO I ACT LIKE A BABY! YOU'RE PATHETIC!"
Tommen had falled into the floor now he crossed his arms in defense. He shivered in fear at his borther's rage. Joffrey stared him and shook his head before turning and leaving.
"You're pathetic," said Joffrey with a whisper filled with contempt and disdain.
Tommen had learnt long ago, when the cat of the castle had been killed by his brother-children in the belly included- and his brother had received no punishment for it, that the world wasn't fair. It had a lot of smallfolk having many hardships, they didn't smile at all because, he heard, they were hungry. Nobles like him took too much. There were nobles that were also bad people, like the mountain and his brother. Others had been forced too, like the poor hound, wounded beyond repair just for playing. Many had more than what they deserved.
It wasn't fair.
The world could be cold and cruel, but Tommen knew nothing could change just by saying " it isn't fair". He needed to act and change. Only then, as his father once said, things would be set straight. Wimpering will bring you nowhere. Now, doing it? All the way up to the end of the business!
Using his shirt's sleeves to wipe the tears and possible snot, Tommen shook his head. He'd change it, he promised it. Bran and the sad people deserved it. The world wasn't fair but he'd try to make it, even if just a bit, even if it took him a lot of effort.
People deserved to smile, to be happy, remembered Tommen as a determined smile was drawn in his face.
=================================
As you see, the SI is playing with the different events of the timelines. That way he gets a bit of quarter and margin of operation in case he has a mistake or not. He's rampaged through the scene and gotten his seat and now he must be clever in keeping it.
LordKragan
The one and only lord of muttonchops
- Location
- Spain, Barcelona, bar du madam celona
And a snippet of the next chapter:
Chapter 5. Bloodraven.
The boy soon would fly, he just needed a push to learn the mysticism of greenseers. Bloodraven's avatar, the three-eyed crow, flew across the sky and looked satisfied by how things were going. They had a chance, they could suceed if he learnt the secrets. If he did, all that came behind it would fall into place.
The raven's wings swung as he soared across the bizarre sky of blue and red and green. Something looked strange, there in that clearing.
Bloodraven approached and stopped still. The place was filled with savines and pine trees. Bloodraven felt nothing dangerous, as if this place was a safe haven. Yeah, he felt this place soothed him, made him comfortable.
He didn't understand how this could be so. Because a lion of majestic mane and size, rearing on its hindlegs, stood in front of him.
Chapter 5. Bloodraven.
The boy soon would fly, he just needed a push to learn the mysticism of greenseers. Bloodraven's avatar, the three-eyed crow, flew across the sky and looked satisfied by how things were going. They had a chance, they could suceed if he learnt the secrets. If he did, all that came behind it would fall into place.
The raven's wings swung as he soared across the bizarre sky of blue and red and green. Something looked strange, there in that clearing.
Bloodraven approached and stopped still. The place was filled with savines and pine trees. Bloodraven felt nothing dangerous, as if this place was a safe haven. Yeah, he felt this place soothed him, made him comfortable.
He didn't understand how this could be so. Because a lion of majestic mane and size, rearing on its hindlegs, stood in front of him.
It's interesting, but it's as subtle as Robert's hammer, and you desperately need a beta to help your English.
Your dreams are far too detailed for people to believe: dragon dreams and green dreams are usually a lot more allegorical. It's also a lot more difficult to get things wrong when you're being vague, a handy thing when, as you mention, you don't recall a lot of detail for a lot of plot points.
Characters are reacting to a whole lot of information you're pulling out of your butt almost nonchalantly, and doing what you tell them to do. Remember, they have preconceptions and wills of their own: they won't always react in ways you expect.
And Daeny ... wasn't she well educated already? Sure, she didn't know about the truth of her father, but she seemed to be knowledgeable of languages and history in the books and the show ...
Your dreams are far too detailed for people to believe: dragon dreams and green dreams are usually a lot more allegorical. It's also a lot more difficult to get things wrong when you're being vague, a handy thing when, as you mention, you don't recall a lot of detail for a lot of plot points.
Characters are reacting to a whole lot of information you're pulling out of your butt almost nonchalantly, and doing what you tell them to do. Remember, they have preconceptions and wills of their own: they won't always react in ways you expect.
And Daeny ... wasn't she well educated already? Sure, she didn't know about the truth of her father, but she seemed to be knowledgeable of languages and history in the books and the show ...
- Location
- Singapore
And joffrey once more reminds us why we hate him so....
LordKragan
The one and only lord of muttonchops
- Location
- Spain, Barcelona, bar du madam celona
I'm going more by the books and I think to remember she wasn't that knowleadgable. Yes she knew a bit of languages and reading but most of what he learnt was through the skewed views of Viserys. He left home at 8 and ought to have stopped receiving an education by 12. That's by no means a very high standard for a teacher and he's likely to have taught Dany less than that. As far as I seem to remember most of her knowledge was starting to flow from book 2 and onwards-ie: when she starts learning on her own. After all she's 14 now so she doesn't have a very strong base to begin with, specially once you factor too the fact that they spent sizable amounts of time on the run and him beggaring so there's periods of those 14 years where she didn't receive an education. That's why I think she has a gradeschool level overall. She knows languages because she's been to places not because she received a formal education and from what I gather she is just not ignorant of Aerys but the seven kingdoms as a whole. She knows a couple story bits but far from the whole picture.
I'm handwaving it as saying he pays a lot of detail to them. He says: Balon dies at the hands of Melissandre or Euron. But that's him doing the transalation -as it's explained off-screen and will be reiterated soon. Between the first time he contacts Varys and the second one it's been a month, long enough to properly "think" what the dream means.
Of course as the time starts putting pressure he'll start getting more vague and all because he cannot "patch up" quite as well what the dreams mean.
Illyrio and Varys are supposed to be Targaryen loyalists and the latter has knowledge of what magic is like, not something nice and that you want set against you. The reason why they set to do what he's saying is because of this mainly: think of it, he's "predicted" the two events with precision, how could he be wrong, our lord liege? Sure he's a fool but maybe not so much after all.
As for Eddard, his response won't be unfortunately as the SI hopes. It will be a theme that things don't turn as expected or will do so with a twist. Prophecies after all will kick you in the face.
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LordKragan
The one and only lord of muttonchops
- Location
- Spain, Barcelona, bar du madam celona
But yeah, anyone wanna do the glorious job of being a beta reader?