SovereignOfHeaven

Raiden's Storm Chapter 57: Shifting Tides

Outside the tourney grounds, a small army of gold cloaks stood and prevented every marked participant from leaving. Edric walked over after his speech, looking for recognisable dents in armour. During the melee, he let a certain group of suspicious people 'concede' rather than outright killing them.

"Why are you keeping everyone here?" One of the participants questioned. 

"You, you, you and you." Edric moved through the crowd, patting shoulders. "You're today's lucky winners. Off to the black cells you go."

"What? I did nothing wrong!"

"We'll see." Edric turned, seeing one of them sprint away from the crowd. "Talk about standing out."

The one closest to Edric grasped his hammer and aimed to hit him in the head while he wasn't looking...

Only for Edric to grab his hammer hand and twist it without even looking at him while sending a violent surge of lightning through his body.

Clang.

The hammer fell to the ground.

"My hand... my ha-hand!!!"

Edric raised a finger, and a streak of electricity went after the escaping suspect. He was shaken for a good second, which gave the gold cloaks time to apprehend him. The other two tried to fight as well, but it was all for nought as the gold cloaks detained them.

"An honest day's work." Edric rubbed his hands, turning to the other participants. "It was not my intention to keep you here for so long... but certain people just can't be trusted. I suspect that there might have been an odd group that participated with the intention of assassinating me. I will investigate this matter personally and see that the truth comes to light."

"Thank you for your time."

Since he was quite weary from the melee, Edric didn't intend to do much more for the night when he made it back to the Red Keep.

"It may be quite late, but how could you walk away without celebrating your grand victory over hundreds of men?" Renly questioned, patting his shoulder. "Besides, I know that you're starving from that performance. How could the King be hungry in his own city? A feast is in order!"

The hall cheered, and Edric chuckled as his stomach rumbled like an earthquake. 

"A feast might not be so bad, after all."

...

After getting out of his armour, taking a short bath, getting new drip and stuffing himself, Edric found the energy to party a little. The wine was staring at him from every corner like a toxic girlfriend, dragging him by the arm mentally. He took a deep breath and refrained - chugging on water instead. 

"Here are your fruits, Your Grace." Margaery stepped next to him at the head of the table, placing the plate on his table.

"You are most kind." Edric smiled slightly, glancing at her before turning to the fruits. This time, he didn't rush and enjoyed them thoroughly.

"That performance in the melee... was legendary, truly. Wounded and exhausted, you kept fighting on and on. I don't think I've ever seen a man half as determined to win."

Arya sipped on her water as she glared, knowing that Margaery was glazing this man. Indeed, his feats were beyond impressive - no one could deny that. However, she was going the extra mile to compliment him.

"It wouldn't look good on me if I called the Kingsguard lousy for losing and then did the exact same thing." Edric chuckled, having a sweet strawberry practically melt in his mouth. "I hope my fighting spirit passes on to the Kingsguard, and they show the Realm what they're really made of."

"I have no doubt that they will. Throwing and racing are... dubious competitions which require a certain bit of luck and fortune to win. The Kingsguard do not train to throw as far as they can nor race as fast as they can. They train to be warriors, the swords and shields that guard your life." Margaery spoke with an almost enchanting tone. "When it comes to fighting, they will not fail you."

"Fighting requires a certain bit of luck, too." Arya intercepted. "If two men of the same fighting ability duel each other ten times, the result will not always be the same."

Edric smiled slightly as that was something he'd say himself.

"Except my Kingsguard are just better so it's surely nothing to worry about." Edric shrugged with a jestful tone. "Tell Ser Loras if he fails me, I'll be exchanging his white cloak for a black one. That goes for all the Kingsguard."

"I'm sure it won't come to that." Margaery chuckled.

"He did lose the racing competition." Edric remarked, glancing at her. "He better come out looking like Ser Ryam Redwyne at his best tomorrow."

"It seems that much is at stake to have you so insistent on victory. It's a bit more than just pride and honour, am I wrong?"

"Quite perceptive of you. The thing is, I made a bet with Rhaerra regarding winning more competitions in the Great Tournament."

"... And what is at stake?"

"My old armour," Edric answered, shaking his head. "Though I have no use for it in battle anymore, it has become somewhat of a priceless artefact that I intend to keep. That is why they can't lose."

"I see." She smiled, nodding. "That was a rather risky bet to take."

"I have confidence in my guys."

"Would you mind leaving us, Lady Margaery?" Arya asked nicely with a smile. "I wish to discuss something with His Grace in private."

"Why, of course..." She courteously bowed her head with a smile. "I won't keep you."

As Margaery walked away, Edric turned to Arya.

"And what might that be?"

"Nothing~"

Arya grabbed one of Edric's apples and took a bite with a cheeky grin.

"You little devil." Edric chuckled, shaking his head. "You just wanted to send Margaery away."

"She is a disingenuous person. Every time I see that smile, I feel like punching it."

"Would you even reach it?"

"And you... hmph." She pouted. "You seem to like her a lot even though you know she wants more than friendship."

"You worry too much. It really doesn't matter what Margaery wants. She could be thrice as determined, and it wouldn't change a thing because the decision will always be mine to make." 

"That isn't very convincing," Arya remarked, raising a slight eyebrow.

"I am not someone to break a promise, Arya. When I swear something - I mean it." Edric smiled reassuringly. "Unless you made me take back my words in the future, Margaery and I will never share a bed again."

"So... never."

"If that is your wish."

Edric shrugged, munching on a couple more fruits. A moment of silence washed over them as Arya looked at him. 

"... Say." Arya suddenly broke the silence. "If you were to win the joust, who would you choose as the Queen of Love and Beauty?"

"Margaery, obviously." Edric turned to her with a slight grin.

"That's a jest, right?"

"Is that even a question? You're smarter than that."

"You did wear her favour."

"That's why I'm saying that." Edric chuckled.

"You play too much." Arya crossed her arms, pouting. "You better win the joust to make up for it."

"Even if Rhaegar Targaryen, Ser Barristan in his prime, the Dragonknight and Ser Ryam Redwyne crashed the joust - I'd fell them all on my way to a decisive victory."

"And then?"

"I'd crown my beloved as the Queen of Love and Beauty, of course." 

"Mhm."

"Anyway." Edric stood up from his seat. "Since I'm here, I may as well talk to a few people."

...

"Well, would you look at that? You almost look like a proper lady."

Edric approached Asha Greyjoy, who was speaking with some nobles from the Iron Islands. One of three was Lord Baelor Blacktyde, who had his cloak pinned with a seven-pointed star, and another was Lord Tristifer Botley.

"Your Grace." Baelor Blacktyde bowed. "An honour to be in your presence... without the skull-crushing warhammer of yours swinging around, of course."

"That is well past us, I hope."

"It was inevitable with Balon's madness." Baelor Blacktyde sighed. "In truth, I respect you for putting him down before he caused any more harm to our people. This period of peace and change, true change, that you have created... it is refreshing. It seems as if you didn't just crush us into the gorund as your father had done, no, you raised us back off the ground and showed the way forward with an Ironborn leader that shares your vision."

"I'm glad to hear that someone is fond of the direction I seek to take." Edric smiled, firmly nodding as he toasted him with his water. "After all, if the seeds never change, then these barbaric ideals would carry onto the next generation and the next... until another rebellion breaks out and history repeats itself."

"Precisely." Baelor nodded while Asha Greyjoy frowned slightly. She was not too fond of hearing that her father's death was simply for the better good. 

"How long do you plan to keep my lady as a prisoner, Your Grace?" Tristifer Botley questioned with a smile. 

"It all depends on her, really." Edric shrugged his shoulders. "She is living every prisoner's dream as of now... but her knees seem very stubborn on bending." 

"Get out." She waved Tristifer and Baelor away. Afterwards, she turned to Edric. "I will admit that you've done well for my people. But..."

"But?"

"If I bend the knee, I want my birthright."

"I'm afraid you are in no position to be so demanding."

"... I would carry on Rodrik Harlaw's work." 

Edric raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm afraid I'm not the kind of person to undermine a man who has proven himself both loyal and competent. He will remain Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands and Lord of Pyke."

"What would be the use of me bending the knee, then?" Asha questioned. "Would you have me as a captain of one ship?"

"If you had bent initially, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Edric shrugged. "You could always stay by my side. There will surely come a time when your naval expertise could be used. Regarding lands... there is more to the world than the Iron Islands, I'm sure you know."

"The Greyjoys have ruled Pyke and the Iron Islands for hundreds of years..." Asha remained stubborn on the matter, only to be interrupted.

"So did the Targaryens rule most of the Seven Kingdoms for nearly three hundred - what of it? Who is King now? The Durrandons had been Storm Kings for thousands of years before Aegon's conquest. The Tyrells were just the stewards of Highgarden, yet Aegon raised them to Lords of the Reach, while the Florents had more royal blood and legitimacy. No doubt, Pyke belonged to someone else before the Greyjoys." Edric chuckled, shaking his head. "You see, bloodline doesn't matter as much as absolute strength does. Conquest washes it all away, and you, along with your father, just happened to pick the wrong side."

"If anything, you should thank your Drowned God that I even chose to spare you and allow you to make something of yourself rather than rusting away in some dark cell."

Edric finished his water, put his cup down on the table, and looked at Asha Greyjoy one last time.

"Stop seeking the past; look towards the future."

After that, he decided to give his words time to sink as he walked away - yawning in the process.

'Man, I'm getting sleepy...'

~

After the melee, Rhaerra's group gathered in an inn during midnight, where they had essentially taken over with their numbers. 

"Baegel is very sorry. Baegel lost to Storm King."

"Don't be sorry." Rhaerra shook her head. "The truth is that he surpassed even my own expectations. None of you ever had a chance of beating him."

"..." Valaegor chuckled. "Well, that's quite grim."

"Except... in the beginning. If Baegel had not aided him, he would have been forced to use his magic more extensively, opening a path where he would have to rely solely on his physical gifts."

"Why did you help him, Baegel?" Daman questioned.

"Big Baegel wanted to fight Storm King in single combat. Everyone else was in the way."

"It's a matter of the past." Rhaerra crossed her arms. "I don't believe Edric will lead the Kingsguard in the team battles. Undoubtedly, he would wish them to redeem themselves from their previous failures during the tournament, but he can't accomplish that by bringing them victory himself on a golden platter."

"That makes things easy," Taelor remarked.

"I would not be so confident. The Kingsguard have all fought alongside each other in numerous battles and trained rigorously in the months leading up to this tournament. Since there are only five, I suspect that the Hound will be joining their team alongside one other..."

"Baegel would squash the Hound; I can beat the one with the Valyrian Steel sword myself-"

"Baegel did not walk away from this melee without any wounds," Rhaerra remarked, interrupting Valaegor.

"Big Baegel is more than strong enough to fight the dog." He huffed his chest.

"Listen carefully... victory here is of paramount importance. We cannot lose." Rhaerra emphasised. "Baegel, you will initially play a supporting role alongside Taelor from afar. You two will target the weakest links and dwindle their numbers. Gaegor, you will take the Hound directly, and Valaegor will counter Ser Loras' lance. Ballio, your goal will be to disarm Ser Arthur and take his Valyrian Steel blade away from him. As for Daman, you will be tasked with making adjustments should something unexpected happen."

 "As you wish, my lady."

"What of the other teams?" Daman questioned.

"I am confident in your ability to best them."

~

[Edric's POV, 1st]

Since the team battles were seven a side, I had quite the decision to make. Of course, my Kingsguard was missing one person and Ser Barristan was all the way in Slaver's Bay. Unless I learned to teleport from one side of the known world to the other within the next few minutes, he wouldn't be participating.

The Hound was an obvious pick, clear as day... but the seventh? Not so much.

The number of people who put their names forward was quite vast, from those in my direct service to the likes of Garlan Tyrell, who was technically on another team but was more than willing to switch to my side. A wide selection of Vale knights, Blackfish, Lyn Corbary, Ser Robert, even my brother-in-law Mychel Redfort...

I won't lie, Garlan Tyrell probably would be the best choice in terms of raw ability. That man is a masterful swordsman. Even so... I wanted to pick one of my day ones, and I wasn't thinking Robert. Besides, swords aren't too useful against fully-armoured opponents. I need some serious muscle to handle Baegel and the rest.

"Choose the person who has been the most loyal to you." Raiden Shogun advised, glancing at Brienne. "The person you trust most to grant you victory, no matter the challenges that may rise in between."

We were of the same mind on this matter, it seems.

"Brienne of Tarth."

"Me, Your Grace?" Brienne didn't look like she believed it herself, blinking. She looked around and saw the other people who competed for the spot. "Surely there... are other, better options."

"I did not choose you on a whim, Brienne." I shook my head. "I chose you because I believe in your ability to win. I've seen it so often that I wonder if the world is blind or ignorant of how great a warrior you could be? Wash away your doubt, Brienne, be confident... you are more than worthy. Show them what you are capable of and prove me right before the watchful eyes of the Realm."

"..." She took a deep breath, bending the knee. "Yes, Your Grace. I will bring honour and victory to you."

"Good." I smiled reassuringly, firmly nodding. "I know you won't fail."

Raiden's Storm Chapter 56: The Strongest

Whoosh.

Edric, a swifter warrior, sidestepped Baegel's mace and swiftly countered with a thunderous blow into his side. Baegel, his armour cracking, felt a surging wave of pain. He attempted to retaliate with a flurry of attacks, but Edric evaded them all with his tremendous focus.

Just as Edric was about to reply with an attack, an arrow came straight for his head.

At the last moment, he noticed it and tilted his head to the side, which caused the arrow to deflect off his helmet. 

Then, there was another attacker with a great axe, aiming to smash it against Edric's legs.

He managed to escape, only to be trapped between three more attacks. A hammer to his left, a flail to his right and a spear to his back. He chose to tilt his body to the side and grab the spearman, throwing him into the other two. All three collided with each other.

Before he could counter, he realised he would again be interrupted by the growing crowd. He looked for any points of weakness - knowing that the constant use of magic would only drain him quicker. 

This melee was a marathon, not a sprint.

'Not so much of a good time to be popular...'

The greatest problem was differentiating between who actually wanted him killed versus who was just competing and wanted to get him out of the way...

They may as well all be the same.

"Stop interrupting Big Baegel's fight!" Baegel shouted, raising his mace. "I'll smash you all!"

As he charged through the crowd, he hit three men to the ground with his mace. Edric raised an eyebrow... the brute was helping him in his own strange way. 

"Those who would face me with such dishonourable methods..." Edric raised his voice, the sky darkening in response. "Will be shown no mercy."

A booming wave of thunder struck the earth in the distance, leading to most men's hearts jumping instinctively. 

~

[Arya's POV]

While most of the melee looked like a melee on the ground, a certain corner of it was a large crowd circling around Edric. In a strange turn of events, Baegel had sided with Edric and the two fought off the onslaught of opponents with their backs to each other. If anyone didn't know any better, one might think they had been the best of friends all along... yet they hardly knew each other.

As the fighting dragged on, Edric's style became increasingly brutal. Instead of stepping around his opponents, he let his armour do the work and focused on attacking. 

As for his attacks.... they were not kind.

Arya had witnessed a direct blow to the head that may as well have forced the man's soul out of his body. A bone-crushing strike to the chest that shattered both armour and ribcage. A swing that broke a man's arm and left him crying all the way out of the tourney grounds.

Wherever Edric and Baegel swung, they broke something.

As the number of casualties increased, the number of men willing to face the two giants drastically diminished. They singlehandedly defeated over fifty men and killed around thirty in the act. The rest either ran or conceded with severe wounds.

Afterwards, Baegel and Edric would part ways. They seemed to have exchanged words before separating. Arya couldn't hear a single word due to the distance, however.

"His Grace seems to be treating it as a true battle." Arys Oakheart remarked. "He's not holding back at all, and the number of deaths shows it."

"He's countering force with force," Arthur replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I know His Grace would not kill without reason. He warned that surrounding him would not end well, and he's keeping his word."

Arya found herself agreeing with Arthur. There was clearly something suspicious about the way Edric had been surrounded.

Unlike the last melee, the grounds were not covered by a dense fog, meaning the crowd could clearly see Edric fight. While most of the ladies seemed frightened by the excessive violence the King displayed, Arya did not mind it at all... if anything, she strangely enjoyed it.

The melee raged on for hours leading into the evening, with Edric pacing himself rather well despite his wounds catching up to him. While he took down one opponent after the other, Rhaerra's blue cloaks dominated the other side of the field. They worked well as a team, taking down over a hundred participants while looking out for each other. Their numbers had only decreased by five throughout. 

In the end, only those two parties would remain.

Twenty-five on one. 

~

"You foreigners are defeating the very purpose of a melee," Edric remarked, leaning on his warhammer. "Working as a team? It's a free-for-all. Not that hard to understand."

"We've freely chosen to defeat you, Your Grace." Valaegor Raelaereonor replied with a slight grin. "Then we'll simply decide the champion amongst ourselves. Besides, the rules are a bit blurry. Yes, it is a free-for-all... yet it says nothing about focusing on the defeat of one person."

"We simply believe you to be the greatest threat to our victory, that's all."

"Makes no difference, really." Edric took a deep breath. "I'll just beat you all."

As for Big Baegel, he stood in the background.

"That's quite arrogant of you." Taelor, an archer, remarked as he steadied his bow. "Maybe if you were fresh, you'd be able to. As you are now, you're on your last legs, King Storm."

"Who are you, again?"

"Taelor."

"Taylor? It's rather low-hanging fruit, that name." Edric chuckled. "It seems to me that Rhaerra prefers picking men with amusing names rather than any genuine skill."

"We'll see about that."

"The fact that you all need to surround me is telling enough. Either it's a compliment to my ability, you're all cowards, or you have shit for ability. Might be a bit of all three."

"It's something else, my friend." Daman shook his head. "We must defeat you with the utmost efficiency to succeed in tomorrow's team battles. It is nothing personal."

"Indeed." Valaegor nodded. "It is nothing personal."

"So... that's how it is." Edric chuckled. "Rhaerra values winning over honour?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"Can't argue with that." He shrugged. "I tend to fight with similar principles. You know-"

"Bastard, you're just trying to catch your breath." Valaegor frowned, interrupting him.

"No, not at all." Edric shook his head innocently. "Pfft, do you really think a few seconds of energy would change anything? It's twenty-five to one. I have no chance of winning. Still... I am a most talkative, social, gregarious man. I can't deny my nature."

"... You just said you'd beat us all."

"It's simply peerless confidence in one's abilities, to the point of delusion. You might see it as pompous arrogance." Edric sighed. "You see, there's a thing called Mamba Mentality. Ever heard of it?"

"What sort of nonsense is that?"

"It's all about consistency, the goal of becoming a better man than you were yesterday. It's an endless road of improvement, one that requires dedication that falls into obsession. You have to zone out all of the distractions and completely focus on the task at hand, whatever you want to succeed at. It's about overcoming your fears and being unashamed of yourself even when you fall short and make mistakes."

"Another aspect... is fire and passion. Killer instinct." Edric explained, grinning slightly as his yapping seemed to pay dividends. They all wanted to hear him finish, forgetting about the melee entirely. "When it comes to competitions, you must come with the mindset of wanting to absolutely slaughter your opposition. It means not settling for 'good enough' but rather going all in, with the raging desire to dominate all who stand in your way."

"This is a mentality that works for all walks of life, not just fighting... for no one is perfect at anything, whether it is learning an instrument, painting, writing-"

"Alright, that's enough." Daman chuckled, shaking his head. "I will admit that your words are quite moving and insightful. You can talk as much as you want after you concede."

"Well, I do feel a little rejuvenated." Edric raised his warhammer. "Since it's so late in the night, let's not drag it out."

"Says the person dragging it out..." Valaegor raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, I thought we were all becoming friends."

"Scatter around him." Daman stepped forward, waving his hand in a circular motion. "Apply pressure; do not overstep and get too close. Support each other when he does strike."

"Guess no more talking..."

As they surrounded him, Edric noted that they didn't push him to the point of using magic to get out. Rather, their attacks were light and from a safer distance. When Edric did seek to counter, the rest seemed to move forward and support... precisely as Daman had wished.

They were all disciplined men, even Valaegor, when commanded by Daman.

Edric had taken a few hits and had nothing to show for it regarding dwindling their superior numbers.

It was beyond frustrating the way they fought. Edric felt the fury in his heart building.

The clouds in the sky continuously increased, clouding the stars beyond. 

'These guys are good...'

The effectiveness of his Hyper-Focus had waned in both length and consistency. As for his swings, he began to feel the consequences of his warhammer's immense weight. Because of that, he couldn't swing nearly fast enough to hit his opponents. Each missed swing looked slower and more forced than the last...

At last, Edric let go of his warhammer.

It had begun to rain.

"Concede. You can't win." Daman said, seeing his exhaustion take hold.

"... I can't win," Edric repeated with an amused tone as he slowly raised his left hand. "What made you decide that?"

"Step back," Daman commanded. "He's about to use his magic."

"That's right, you better step back. Further and further. You can go all the way to the opposing end if you'd like." Edric chuckled, stepping forward as the rain poured. "You're all an extraordinary bunch, I'll admit. Disciplined when it matters. Organised, skilled. Even so, there's only so much fighting you can endure, only so hard you can hit, only so fast you can run."

Edric took a deep breath.

"Problem is... I just don't have the limits that you do."

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

Lightning struck all around him as he seemed to take in the refreshing air. A dense fog began to spread out to the point that no man could see even half a metre beyond themselves. The air grew heavy, too.

"Damn him... I can't see my own hands!"

"What do we do, captain?"

"Keep close to each other." 

"What's wrong? Where did all that confidence go?" 

Edric mused as he walked through the fog. He grasped his warhammer, his strength renewed by the lightning. This was his second wind. His eyes glowed purple so vibrantly that their glow was visible past his helmet. 

"Using magic to win... cheap trick." Valaegor remarked. "Why don't you fight like a man?"

"Ser with a tongue twister for a name, what do you call your ambush? The moment I even the odds a little, you start pissing yourself." 

Edric chuckled, seeing through the fog and walking around his opposition.

"This is a little bit much regarding evening the odds."

"Aww, poor child. I'll disperse the fog just for you."

The fog suddenly dispersed completely, revealing Edric's figure, which surged with lightning. Taelor readied an arrow alongside the other archers. When their arrows soared towards him, he simply held out his hand, and they stopped in the air... turning.

He waved his hand towards them, and the arrows soared out with added lightning, striking five men and electrocuting them into falling to the ground.

"How... did he do that?"

"Hahaha..."

Edric stepped forward with mad laughter, rushing straight at them swifter than any man in full plate armour should be allowed to. His rush led to hesitation among their ranks, and before they knew it, he had already struck one man to the ground. 

One was brave enough to strike him with a hammer, only for Edric to grasp its head with his palm... yank the hammer from him with a single hand, toss it into the air, catch it and smash his head with it.

"What in Seven Hells... is he even human?"

"I'm not fighting him... I concede!"

He proceeded to wield both hammer and warhammer in thunderous harmony, absolutely destroying their formation singlehandedly. When Taelor and his archers tried to fire at him again, he used one of their teammate's bodies to block the arrows before tossing the body to them with a violent surge of wind.

He then came upon them too, only for them all to concede.

Edric restrained himself and turned to the rest.

"Everyone... concede." Daman ordered. "There is no use in suffering further wounds for a hopeless contest."

"..." Edric glared at Valaegor, who turned away. "What a shame, I was saving you for last."

"I am honoured." Valaegor chuckled, shaking his head. "A little melee isn't worth my life, however."

Edric watched as everyone departed from the tourney grounds... all but one person.

Big Baegel.

"Well, looks like it's just us now." 

"Big Baegel got tired of people interrupting. We can fight one on one now." Baegel raised his mace. "Boy King must be tired, though."

"Tired?" Edric scoffed. "I'm good as new."

"Big Baegel can wait. We can have a meal before fighting."

"... A meal?" Edric raised an eyebrow. "You can't be serious."

"Big Baegel hungry. Big Baegel can't fight well when hungry. Boy King hungry too."

"Eh..." Edric's stomach grumbled. "Mayhaps a little. Let's just get this over with."

"Hm... fine. Baegel beat Boy King quickly and then eat!"

Baegel stepped closer to Edric slowly... before accelerating rapidly and jumping to tackle him.

Edric managed to react in time and step aside, only for Baegel to grab his cape and drag him down with it. 

Clang.

Edric fell to the ground, and Baegel took an unwinded blow from Edric's warhammer onto his right shoulder. He proceeded to grab the shaft and force it out of his hand - tossing it far away. Edric managed to kick him off and surged back to his feet.

In turn, Baegel dropped his mace.

"No weapons. Fight like a real man."

"That's fine by me." 

Edric's eyes lit up with a competitive edge.

Baegel began with an exceptionally accurate roundhouse kick that almost took Edric's head off. He managed to dodge and aimed to counter with a straight punch, only for Baegel to grab hold of his arm. He locked it and used his strength to toss Edric back to the ground. 

While he was dazed, Baegel aimed to throw himself directly at Edric...

'Are we in the WWE now?'

Edric rolled away, watching him crash into the ground.

He got up and waited for Baegel to stand up himself... only to start whaling on him with a ruthless combination of punches. Baegel took a lot of pain before countering with a mighty punch of his own straight at Edric's helmet.

The punch left him dazed... leading to Baegel charging forward and taking his head down with a lariat. 

... Yeah. Their fight went back and forth for well over ten minutes.

Edirc showed off his own wrestling bag, choke-slamming Baegel down with a single hand and lifting him up with both hands before kneeing his back. Even though he had never practised these moves before, they came to him naturally in the moment... and the crowd ate it all up. 

As their fight continued, it became clear who was superior.

Edric knocked off Baegel's helmet and continued relentlessly punching him. Left, right, left, right.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Baegel began to bleed from his nose, summoning the strength to grab one of Edric's hands and smashing his forehead into Edric's. They both stumbled back. Baegel, even more so than Edric.

He got on his knees, lowering his head.

"Big Baegel... lost."

"... Finally." Edric nodded, chuckling. "I thought I'd have to kill you."

"King of Westeros is the strongest in the world and has Big Baegel's respect."

"You have my respect too, you strong bastard." Edric walked over to him and offered his hand. "Let's get you up."

Baegel took his hand, and Edric helped him up.

"Storm King... fitting name. No man can stop a storm."

"Indeed."

With Baegel admitting defeat, Edric was crowned champion. He took the purse at his own pace, looking very clearly winded from all the fighting. The crowd had cheered as he walked from one end the other, taking off his helmet.

"It's deep in the night... so I won't keep you lot for much longer," Edric announced, glancing at the large purse of coins. "The champion's purse was meant for one worthy competitor who proved himself greater than the others. Alas, it wouldn't be right if I presented a reward and simply took it for myself. As I was the one who emerged victorious, I choose to dedicate the winnings to you all... the people!"

The crowd cheered as Edric gave a heartfelt speech.

"This gold shall build homes for people who need it, put food on the table of those who scarcely see much of it and bring joy to those who lack it!"

He smiled, lowering his hands.

"That will be tomorrow, however... now is a time for rest."

Barbarian's Path To Multiversal Domination Chapter 11: Grace's 'Punishment'

‘What the fuck happened?’

I opened my eyes to chains all over and some blonde woman hitting me with a metal rod. I was still naked. My arms were bound to the walls while my feet were held down by some metal balls. They were decently heavy.

The last thing I remembered was fighting Borgia guards over and over and over again… 

Did I get tired of killing those weeklings and went for a nap?

“You barbarian…” The woman frowned, stopping her attacks. They felt like tickles. “You've finally woken.”

“Am I meant to know you?”

“Oh, you don't remember? Maybe this will help you…” 

She raised an eyebrow and started hitting me on the chest again.

“If you're going to keep hitting me, the least you could do is make me feel pain.”

“... Guard! Hit his head as hard as you can.”

The Borgia guard walked up to me with a slight grin as he took out his hammer and smacked me in the head with it. Now I felt that one… and it was good. Made me feel alive. 

Now… I was awake.

I tugged on the chains binding my arms and started pulling them to me. 

“What are you doing? Hit him again!”

Just as the guard was about to hit me, I raised my leg and smashed the large metal ball against his kidney. Bro collapsed to the ground while I finally felt the walls start to give in.

Clink…

The part of the wall connected to the chain was dragged right off.

I am free. 

The woman looked shocked, with wide eyes and an open mouth. 

“You monster…”

“Remind me, what did I do?” I walked up to her, forcing the woman against the wall. She was tiny. “Tell me.”

“You… raped me.”

“Did I?” 

“Yes…”

I paused for a moment, letting it sink in. Honestly - I didn’t care about her. If anything, I found her stupid expression funny.

“Why am I alive then?” I questioned, grabbing her neck with one hand. “Did you want it to happen again…”

“Absurd…” She spat on my face. “I wanted you to die a slow, painful, death…”

“Let it all out, slyuha.”

I punched her in the gut and watched the woman spit out a mouthful of saliva onto the ground. I let go of her, and she crumbled to the ground like she just got knocked out. I didn’t hit her that hard…

“Argh… voughhhh…”

She proceeded to vomit all over the ground. I kicked her head down straight into the pool of whatever she had eaten previously.

“Bastardo…”

“You shouldn’t be talking when you’re that weak…”

As I was about to stomp on her head, a golden light sent me flying back. The light was blinding, forcing me to put my arms up to cover my eyes. When the light dimmed down, I lowered my arms and looked at Grace who was wearing some ancient Greek clothing.

“I could definitely get used to you being naked all the time.” Grace chuckled, holding the weird, shiny toy Ezio had used against me. “It's been a long time, hasn’t it? Well, a long time for you - not so much for me.”

“Borgia Flag shit was your idea?” I questioned.

“... Mhm.” Grace nodded, tilting her head slightly. “You sharpened your senses to an absurd degree because of it.”

“How long was I in there?”

“Over ten thousand years.”

“...” I chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

“If you think about it, you’re pretty much older than human civilisation… technically.” She looked at me, knowing full well how much frustration those flags gave me. “It was intentional, of course. The whole near-impossible simulation. I like poking my pookie bear.”

“You craving slut…” 

As I walked towards her, the golden light stopped me.

“Let’s take the trash out real quick.” 

Before I knew it, the other woman vanished.

The magic toy seemed to work better in Grace’s hands than Ezio’s. I couldn’t move an inch, no matter how hard I tried.

“I have to say, though… I feel offended regarding your incident with this Lucrezia Borgia.” Grace frowned a little, circling around me. “I suppose she is blonde and has blue eyes - maybe you thought she looked like me. Even so, this? If you're going to cheat on me, the least you could do is find someone relative to my beauty.”

“Who am I kidding? No one is as beautiful as I.”

She chuckled, shaking her head.

“Soooo… what am I to do with my unfaithful boyfriend, hmm?”

“If you hated it that much, you would’ve stopped me.”

“I… was just so very distraught.” She made a depressed expression, shaking her head.  “It’s true what they say: all men are trash. How could you cheat on me, your greatest benefactor? Without me, you’d be just another roadman on the street. I bet you’d be going from bin to bin looking for scraps to eat or begging for money at the entrance of a supermarket.”

“I’ve given you so much… and all you’ve done is spit in my face.”

She sniffled, wiping her tears with a handkerchief.

I knew she was acting. Grace loved her drama. 

“You want me to get on my knees and beg?” I questioned, still unable to move. “If I were that kind of person… you would’ve never chased me like a hungry dog after a piece of meat. I don’t apologise for anything. That’s not who I am.”

“I was but an innocent angel tainted by the devil’s temptation…” She sighed, shaking her head. “What has become of me? What do I do with a devious man like you? To go so far as to ravage the noble and beautiful Lucrezia Borgia, oh… how depraved! A fiend like you belongs in the depths of hell.”

“Send me there, then.”

“No…” She chuckled, smiling. “I have a far better idea. The Apple of Eden is pretty handy, you see.”

Eight copies came out of her… the same technique Ezio had used. They all seemed to laugh and giggle, slowly spreading out around me. Three bent down in front of me and began servicing my dick, two on each side while the middle one sucked on the tip. Meanwhile, the other two stepped to my left and right side - touching and licking my chest. As for the seventh, she grabbed my right arm and sucked on my fingers while the eighth rubbed her breasts against my back.

Was I… being gang-banged?

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself there.” Grace smiled, tilting her head slightly. She clapped her hands together and giggled. “I want you to know that I am really and truly proud of you, Dennis. You’re becoming a true man.”

“How long do you plan to keep me trapped here?”

“Geez.” She rolled her eyes. “Let me finish my monologue, okay?”

“... Sure, whatever.”

“You did what you wanted, killed who you wanted to kill, took who you wanted to take. You embraced your nature!” Grace chuckled while her clones kept servicing me. It was a little hard to concentrate. “Do you remember what I said to you in the beginning? About true warriors?”

“You’ve becoming just that. Domination - that is your purpose. To dominate the field of battle, overcome the mightiest of foes, take whatever you see fit and conquer all the women who catch your eye… willing or not.”

“It’s time to free you completely of the world that holds you down.”

…

A golden light flashed before Dennis as he was sent away. Her clones vanished, too. There was only silence for a brief moment.

Grace then recalled Lucrezia.

“You… who are you?”

“Only the most graceful lady to ever take breath.” Grace smiled, raising the Apple of Eden. “You know full well the feeling of jealousy, given your obsession for your brother.”

“...”

“The truth is… I can’t let you live. Nor could I let you die to anyone else, for that matter. This is very, very personal. You see  - only I am fit to bear his children.”

The Apple’s golden light shined.

“Alas, you played your part…”

Lucrezia Borgia’s entire body splattered across the cell, painting it red. Grace observed her bloody appearance, licking the blood that fell upon her lip.

“I can’t say I have Dennis’ taste for it.”

~

It was almost midnight. 

The local Tesco store was still working, and so was the homeless man who camped at its entrance. He would speak to each man and woman who passed him by, asking for change. Some wore headphones and acted like they didn’t hear, some outright ignored him, others didn’t even have change… there were a great many reasons why he barely got anything for the day.

It was crushing, indeed.

He saw a young man with pitch-black hair stumbling his way towards the entrance, holding his head. Despite his ragged appearance, the man was handsome and built like a towering bull. 

“Some change, good sir?”

The homeless man shook his cup, making the coins clash against one another and get his attention.

The young man glanced at him with a terrifying glare.

“Get a job, blyat…”

“I can’t…”  The homeless man sighed. “I try… I really do. No one wants me. I just need a little bit to pass by, sir…”

“You want change?” He suddenly smiled, helping the homeless man off the ground. “The Liberation of Earth has begun…”

“...?” The homeless man looked puzzled.

“Come on.” 

The young man wrapped his arm around the homeless man’s shoulder, dragging him along and into the store.

“Anything you want, mate. It’s on the house.”

“Really?” The homeless man’s eyes lit up; he couldn’t believe the youth’s generosity.

“Yeah, anything.”

The homeless man was hesitant at first, but with the young man’s encouragement, he started getting the things he had always wanted. A gourmet of fruits, fresh water, soda, a myriad of sandwiches, crisps and even expensive alcohol.

“You’d… really do this for an old man like me?”

“Yeah.”

 Dennis nodded, taking his basket of shopping and walking to the exit.

“Wait… the checkout is that way.”

Dennis ignored him, eyeing the security guard as the detector beeped red. He kept staring at him - looking into his very soul. The security guard frowned a little.

“You have to pay for all of that…”

 Dennis suddenly stepped forward, and he flinched back.

“Dolboyob.”

Dennis chuckled, stepping back and grabbing some flowers.

“I never picked flowers… so which ones are the best for a girlfriend?” Dennis questioned, slapping the guard’s face lightly with one of them. “This one?”

“... I don’t know who you think you are.” The security guard huffed and puffed up his chest. “But if you do that again, I’ll have to batter you”

His voice cracked when he said ‘I’ll have to’, making him sound far less confident than he wanted to.

Dennis grinned and slapped his face with the flowers again.

“Go on, then.”

The security guard had enough, rising to the occasion and punching Dennis’ face. He barely moved. When the security guard saw Dennis’ grin, his face dropped.

BANG.

Dennis smacked him on the back of the head so hard the security guard bounced off the ground.

The homeless man couldn’t believe his inhuman strength…

“Wha… what?”

He then smashed the entire detector to pieces in a few punches and tossed it all to the side. Afterwards, he turned to the homeless man.

“Take your shopping and get the fuck out.”

“No… this isn’t right…”

“Sure. Go starve.” Dennis nonchalantly shrugged, taking the basket for himself. “Oh… I do need money. These flowers are shit too.”

The receptionist, who was acting like she hadn’t seen a thing, suddenly shuddered.

Stomp… stomp…

Dennis began walking to the checkout, eyeing the counter. 

“Give me ALL your money, blyat.”

“Uhm…” She nervously nodded. “Sure…”

“ALL THE MONEY. BISTRA…” He clapped his hands thunderously. “QUICKLY.”

The receptionist worked as swiftly as her little hands could manage, taking out all the money.

Dennis stored it up in a little plastic bag, took all the vodka bottles he could and walked off with everything. Later, he’d raid a flower shop in the night and gather all the roses. He left the money on the counter and proceeded to get drunk on an absurd number of vodka bottles at a greenway.

Soon enough, morning would come. He left the flowers since he figured Grace could just teleport them and walked, holding the remainder of his bottles. 

Somehow, he made it to his college… the same one he had chosen to drop out from.

“Yooo is that Dennis the Menace?”

“Blud has three vodka bottles in each hand, hahaha.”

Dennis ignored the onlookers, stepping inside and leaping over the security. He proceeded to make his way to class. 

BANG.

He barged into the room, breaking down the door. The entire class looked in silence as he sat down on top of one of the tables. 

“Dennis? You’ve chosen to come back to class?”

“I miss you guys.” He laughed. “My brother Muhammed, George, Salim, all of you dolboyobs…”

“... Dennis, you can’t walk into class drunk with six vodka bottles in hand.” The teacher sighed, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, I must dismiss you.”

“Dismiss ME?” Dennis chuckled, spitting on the ground. “Who are you to dismiss me, blyat?”

“Your teacher…”

“Ahahahaha. You? Yeah, hahahaha…” Dennis laughed, putting down his bottles except one as he stood up from the table and faced the teacher. “You know what IS a good teacher?”

“...”

“PAIN.”

BANG.

He smashed the bottle against the teacher’s head, shattering it into the side of his face. He collapsed to the ground and began leaking a pool of blood. The young women screamed while the men felt terrified of the absolute menace in front of them.

Dennis laughed madly, grabbing two more bottles. 

“The fun’s just getting started.”

This act of chaos would only escalate…

[Author's note]

Looks like the next destination will be Dark Souls... I might need to do some research ngl

Also, I didn't forget the new status screen. Saving it for later. Also, there'll be a more elaborate lemon in later chapters, akin to Chapter 1. Just didn't feel like writing it here... and it didn't really fit to me.

I've been a bit busy with work lately and didn't really have the energy to write but next week will be a lot more active since I'll have an extra day off.

Raiden's Storm Chapter 55: Enemy Number One

[Edric’s POV, first]

The qualifications for the melee were a bit looser than before; as long as you met the skill standard of most knights, you were good. This led to there being a good bit over four hundred participants, dwarfing the melee of the Hand’s Tourney by ten times. As such… I made the decision to forbid horses (otherwise, the field would be more clogged than a Taco Bell toilet). It was going to be a brawl that no one could run from. A moshpit, to be more precise.

Even for me, winning wasn’t exactly a guarantee. Not even close.

Additionally, it would be the ideal place to assassinate me in all of the chaos. I wouldn’t be too surprised if a Frey Incident 2.0 happened. 

I chose to withhold any Kingsguard from participating, saving them for later events. It looked like Rhaerra had a different thought entirely, bringing down most of her men. Right about thirty men… which included the man himself, the smartest, the strongest and the most handsome Big Baegel.

Baegel… in terms of Valyrian names, it may actually fit, funnily enough. Even so, I couldn’t help but think of bagels when I heard it.

…

“You’re looking bloody majestic, Your Grace.” 

Dallin, my squire, remarked as he fastened my armour. Ragnor nodded in agreement.

“Aye, it’s a good fit. Tobho Mott is a magician.”

It was styled after my first true armour except infinitely better. It was mostly black plate with gilded patterns centred around a golden stag. The patterns in question were like feathers in the wind, forming a graceful pattern that words could not do justice to. It was hard to describe… yet it did, indeed, look majestic, grandiose and powerful.

Since it was intentionally larger than my actual measurements, the armour was a little big. I had asked Tobho Mott to make it so that I’d grow into it rather than ask for a new set in a few moons.

It felt like puberty was really hitting its stride lately… I’ll definitely grow a few inches minimum.

“I’ll have to thank the smith when I have time.” I smiled, taking off the helmet. “Do you know who the other sets are for?”

“Who?” Ragnor questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“... It couldn’t be.” Dallin’s eyes widened.

“... Dallin has the right idea.” I smiled, nodding. “When you lot prove yourselves, it will be yours. Speaking of… I want you two in the melee.”

“Sounds like fun,” Dallin remarked.

“Though I doubt we’d do all that well, it would be good for experience.” Dallin firmly nodded.

“I would gladly join you as well, Your Grace.” Dickon added.

I looked at him and shook my head.

“The men in there would be just as glad to humiliate a highborn boy. You are still too young and inexperienced. Ragnor and Dallin are almost men, and they’ve seen many battles already. You’ll have your turn in the future.”

“...” Dickon pouted slightly. “As you wish, Your Grace. I shall watch you fight on the field instead."

"Don't just watch me, watch the entire field. Most of the men there are skilled."

"None of them are half as good as you, though," Dickon said, looking up at me with shining eyes. He had as much of a fondness for martial prowess as his father did... if not more. 

It would not be too far-fetched to say that I was his hero...

I chuckled.

"Mayhaps."

I heard echoing steps in the armour, turning to see an approaching Margaery Tyrell. She was well-dressed for the occasion, looking all lady-like in her ivory silk gown. She carried a wooden basket which, upon closer inspection, carried all my favourite fruits. Peaches, grapes, watermelon slices, raspberries, blueberries and even cherries.

"Your Grace." She bent gracefully, her lips curling into a slight yet sweet smile. "It is my hope that this gift will give you the strength to emerge triumphant. I picked each fruit myself, they are all of the finest quality."

"You know the way to my heart." I smiled, looking down at the bundle of fruit before me. "Though I cannot say that it will make much of a difference in the melee, it will make me quite pleased for the rest of the day. Mayhaps I'll be so content as to lose intentionally and finish the rest of the fruits that I left behind..."

"Then you'd have to forgive me." Margaery chuckled, taking out a flowered green ribbon decorated with House Tyrell's rose. "There is another thing I'd wish for you to have..."

"Your favour?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. Those were usually for the joust. "They're seldom worn during melees."

"For a Baratheon, the melee is the true joust," Margaery said, offering it to me. "As this one is especially large and filled to the brim with competitors, I suspect that even you would face a great many challenges. Consider it a token of encouragement to keep pushing forward... to victory."

"Since you were kind enough to gather all these fruits for me, I shall honour your request." I nodded, taking the flowery ribbon and wrapping it around my arm. It didn't exactly fit my get-up, though. "It's like putting flowers on a dragon."

"It does not make him any less dangerous. If anything, it is a little deceiving." Margaery said, giving me the basket. "I believe the melee is not too far from starting..."

"You don't need to ask me twice." 

I gave Dickon my helmet and gauntlets before munching on the fruits, taking a handful every couple of seconds. Indeed, I felt invigorated with sweet fruit goodness. As I ate, my three squires seemingly socially distanced themselves from us.

I chose to keep some for later, feeling a little full. I did eat quite the meal beforehand.

"Your new armour looks regal and imposing. Powerful. It gives the image of a warrior without equal." Margaery remarked with a smile, placing her hand on the chest where the golden stag stood proudly. "Only fitting for one man..."

"Mhm... Tobho Mott really outdid himself." 

I agreed, noticing that she was trying to subtly rizz me up. Well, it wasn't too subtle... I found the glazing quite apparent.

"Though, if I may add, it would look better with a crown." Margaery looked up. "And the colours... shouldn't it be mainly gold with a black stag?"

"I prefer the golden stag and mainly black armour. I find it less... vulgar. It makes the gold stand out rather than blinding people with too much of it." I replied, subtly putting Margaery's hand off my chest. "Besides... the cape takes on the Baratheon colours. I think the armour's black contrasts well with the cape's gold."

"Hm... you are right." Margaery nodded, stroking her chin. "It does look good, reversed. I suppose you are also someone who does not shy away from their heritage."

I nodded.

"Under the shiny Baratheon cape, I am still Edric Storm."

"It is a most fitting name." Margaery nodded, stepping away a little. "You should be wary of your surroundings in the melee. There are a great many competitors this time around, and you have no horse to gallop away with. In all that chaos, it would be the ideal opportunity for those who wish you dead to act. No doubt... you would also be a prized target to eliminate early on."

“I know.” I firmly nodded. “Let them come out of the shadows and face me in the light. If they do come out… well, consider it the perfect opportunity to bash their heads into the ground."

"Only you could be so confident..." She lowered her gaze for a moment before looking me right in the eyes with an expression of care. "Just... be careful."

"You weren't there at the last melee, were you?"

"... No, but I've heard countless stories about it."

"Then you should realise that your worries are unfounded, Lady Margaery." I smiled, pulling back some of her untangled hair behind her ear. "I would sooner slaughter every man on that field than die. Just sit back and watch me win, alright?"

"... Of course."

Margaery nodded, her mouth opened slightly and her eyes looking a bit... dreamy? Perhaps I was imagining things.

"Save the fruits for later... I'll definitely be hungry."

I turned around and faced my squires.

"My armour."

They put on my gauntlets before I put the helmet on myself.

"Let's go and see what you're made of, Ragnor and Dallin. Get your armour, weapons and join me on the field."

"Yes, Your Grace."

~

As Margaery left and the squires were left to their devices, Dallin and Ragnor had a bit of small talk while they got ready.

"Gods, Lady Margaery is so perfect." Ragnor sighed, shaking his head. "I understand why His Grace gave her a good tumbling... he had to do it at least once. I mean, she's beautiful, clever, refined, she brings delicious fruits and throws herself on you? I'd marry her in an instant."

"You'd marry a pig if it stomached the thought of throwing herself at you..." Dallin remarked, chuckling.

"Hey... I wouldn't." Ragnor shook his head. "I have standards, you know."

"Absurd standards, you mean?"

"Every handsome knight needs a pretty lady." Ragnor grinned slightly.

"If you're handsome, everyone is. Besides, you're not even a knight."

"... You just love to hate on me." Ragnor chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "But... you can't lie to me and say that when Edric and Margaery are together, the first thing that comes to mind is not 'That's the King and Queen right there'. Whenever they're together... it looks like a painting."

"Maybe you should be a poet instead." Dallin chuckled, shaking his head. "And no... I don't think that. I only think so when I see His Grace is with Lady Arya."

"Bah..." Ragnor scoffed, lowering himself and placing his palm before his knee. "She's this tiny."

"She's not that short... and she'll be the Queen someday. You should be more watchful of what comes out of your mouth."

"You get what I mean... I'm just being an honest person. His Grace wanted a taste of a real woman - and he got it, alright."

"Can you find another topic to talk about? If not, I'll have to back away, and you can talk to the wall."

"... Rude." Ragnor sighed. "Mayhaps I should talk to the wall."

"You're free to do so... you might even find a new friend."

A moment of silence washed over them as Ragnor looked more serious.

"The world outside of our village... it's just so large, thousands of thousands of times bigger. It's like we have been living in a little well all our lives. A drop of water in the ocean."

Ragnor stated, looking around the armoury - fiddling with the various blunted weapons.

"Our dreams of being knights were just that... but now we can make them happen. It's right here."

"Mn..." Dallin nodded.

"I only wish Davis, Harrin and Lucas were here to see it all. The Kingsroad, King's Landing, Tarth, Storm's End..." Ragnor's smile slowly fell as he thought of his fellow villagers. "They survived every battle... just not the last and most important one. It's..."

"It's just as His Grace said after the battle." Dallin patted Ragnor's shoulder. "We carry on their legacy. We are the King's squires from Mistwood, a small village they don't even have on most maps. Our friends are watching us from above, cheering us on. Not just them, though... we represent our entire village with everything we do. Our mothers, siblings, fathers, their fathers before them... everyone."

"Let's make them all proud."

"... Yeah." Ragnor managed a smile. "We won't win, for sure... but..."

"We'll lose fighting."

"Yeah." Ragnor clenched his fists, feeling more motivated. "Fighting like demons." 

~

[Arya's POV]

"Look, His Grace is wearing Lady Margaery's favour for the melee." One of the ladies said the obvious.

I have eyes, Arya thought. It's never enough for that scheming rose - always clinging onto Edric whenever she can. What kind of lady gives favours during melees? And Edric... he's too courteous sometimes.

She would have ripped it off herself and replaced it with her own... if he hadn't been on the other side of the field. She didn't want to make a scene out of it, besides. In the end, it was just a small gesture... she would be the one who would be marrying Edric. A little ribbon wouldn't change a thing.

Other than the green-gold flowery ribbon, Edric looked every bit of a Horned God. Even with hundreds of competitors crowding the field, he towered over most of them - standing out like a glistening titan amongst dull dwarves.

"Shouldn't he be wearing your favour?" Sansa questioned, turning to Arya.

I was thinking the same thing, Arya thought.

"I didn't think he needed it..." Arya shrugged. "Besides, shouldn't the knight ask the lady? You should know."

"Edric isn't a knight, though... he's the King." Sansa shook her head.

"Hmph, you're just making a big deal out of some fancy ribbon that Edric will probably toss away during the melee for getting in the way." Arya countered. "Difference is, when he wins the joust, Edric wouldn't even look at Margaery for that special title... the Queen of Beauty and Love, is it?"

"The Queen of Love and Beauty." Sansa corrected.

"Yeah, I'll be having it."

Arya crossed her arms with confidence. Though, deep down, she wasn't as sure as she would've liked to be.

"... If he wins the joust," Sansa remarked. "I think Ser Loras has a great chance of winning. While Edric is a far better warrior, he isn't much of a lance..."

"Flowerboy? Pfft." Arya scoffed, grinning slightly. "Edric will send him flying in one tilt. He'll beat him when it matters; I know it. We can bet on it, if you'd like."

"What would you even bet?"

"Hm... mayhaps a dare?"

"A dare?" Sansa questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Why do I feel like it's something wicked?"

"Wicked? I'd never do that to my sweet, big sister. If you're so confident in flowerboy's lance, you shouldn't even be worried about losing the bet."

"... I wouldn't bet against Edric." Sansa countered, shaking her head.

"You... just did a few seconds ago." Arya chuckled. 

"I only said Ser Loras is a better lance... isn't that obvious enough? You're the one who wants to bet on it."

"Saying he's better would make me think that you'd bet on him... besides, Ser Loras is not better. Edric's lance is worth a hundred of Ser Loras' when he wants to win."

"We'll see."

"Mhm... Edric will make a fool out of everyone." Arya smiled as she watched on. "That's just how he likes doing things."

After everyone got set and ready, the melee began with a loud ringing of a large bell. Hundreds of competitors were hesitant, not quite knowing what to do. They were all aware that in a free-for-all, the men who fought the least confrontations had the biggest advantage.

Meanwhile, Edric charged at his closest opponent and smashed through his armour with a single mighty swing. Before he could swing once more, his opponent turned tail and ran. 

As a minute passed, he had defeated half a dozen opponents in the same fashion. Wherever he walked, men conceded and accepted defeat rather than facing him directly.

They are smart, Arya thought. Better to lose with no wounds than to come out with a broken rib.

Before long, he had been surrounded by dozens of men, however. They had him pinned in a small area - not giving him much space to swing his warhammer or even breathe. 

"Bet he'll have to toss out some lightning..." Arya muttered.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY, LITTLE ANTS!"

It was then that a large figure, Big Baegal, stormed through the massive crowd - smashing through men and sending them to the ground with his colossal mace.

"Big Baegel wants to fight Boy King NOW!!!"

Edric spread out his arms, and lightning seemed to come out of nowhere. It surged violently in his hands and spread out towards the massive crowd, sending the surrounding men off their feet a dozen metres away.

It was always a feast for the eyes when Edric's rage took form as lightning. Arya had left her seat and stood forward to see it more clearly.

Only Big Baegal remained standing near Edric, looking bewildered by the sight.

Edric raised his warhammer and rested it on his shoulder, gesturing for Baegel to approach him.

"Come, then. Fight me."

These four words were as calm as a still lake, yet they thunderously echoed across the tourney grounds...

Barbarian's Path To Multiversal Domination Chapter 10: The Barbarian

Something felt off...

 As the days went on, Ezio Auditore was nowhere to be seen. Not only that... but all the Assassins senior to Dennis were being killed one after the other - their heads delivered straight to the door of the Tiber Island Hideout. La Volpe, Niccolo Machiavelli, Bartolomeo d'Alviano and several others outside of Rome.

 Before Dennis knew it, half of the Italian Brotherhood looked to him... while the rest saw little hope.

"We're all going to die..." 

"The Borgia will hunt us down, one by one. There's no use in fighting back."

"The Brotherhood is dead..."

Dennis was brandishing his axe silently as he watched everything around him implode. The latest recruits were well on their way out of fear while even the veterans contemplated staying around. They didn't have to fight for the rest of their lives... they could just turn around and return to a normal life of servitude.

"Yo." Dennis eyed the recruits he had brought into the order. "Where are you dolboyobs going?"

"Home." One of them, the first man he recruited, replied. "This is a fruitless endeavour. Without Ezio, we are lost."

WHOOSH.

BANG.

The man's eyes widened as he froze, seeing Dennis' axe fly only a few inches past his head and smash into the wall. The rest of the recruits grew silent, watching Dennis rise from his seat.

"Looks like he has his dick seven inches deep your asshole. Ezio this, Ezio that... man, fuck Ezio. Grown ass man crying about some stupid bullshit. Since Ezio's not holding your fucking hand like a toddler anymore, you're going to go back to farming? Sucking dick? Cleaning? What did you even do before this?"

"I... delivered letters."

"... Pft." Dennis scoffed. "Sure, you podonok. Go back to delivering fucking letters because that's clearly all you're good for. That goes for everyone in here. If you don't want to fight, the door is right fucking there. No one is keeping you in this basement."

Given how little of a fuck Dennis gave and how he mocked the man, his resolve to leave suddenly diminished. This effect washed over most as some of the stability of the Brotherhood was restored. However, a scarce few did turn to the door and walked out.

"Good, we got the lowlifes out of the way." Dennis chuckled. "And what do you know? They were all women."

"We've stayed to fight... but do you even know what to do next?" 

One of his fellow high-ranking Assassins questioned. She was one of the four who had accompanied Dennis on quite a number of missions. However, instead of being an NPC, she was now a real person.

"Great question, Romola." Dennis nodded, walking over to the broken wall and taking his axe out. "We'll do what we've been doing from the very beginning; fighting. Since they're hunting us down like rats, it's time to flip the script on those motherfuckers. We're supposed to be the Assassins... the attackers, the fighters for liberty... we are not the hunted..."

"WE ARE THE HUNTERS!"

Dennis announced, his eyes glowing red with bloodlust.

"WE'LL STORM THEIR FUCKING CASTLE, TEAR THE GATES DOWN AND SLAUGHTER EVERY BORGIA COCK-SUCKING BITCH IN THERE!"

"WHO IS WITH ME?"

"I am."

"Let's take the fight to them."

"Yeah... we're not vermin to be put down, one by one. We're the Assassins."

"I SAID, WHO IS WITH ME? SAY IT WITH YOUR CHEST LIKE A MAN!"

"WE ARE!"

"LET'S GO!"

...

While Dennis marched out on the streets in his drippy Brutus Armour and slaughtered every Borgia guard in sight, he was accompanied by all the assassins who took to the rooftops. It was not long before they made it to the bridge that led to Castel Sant'Angelo, the main fortress of the Borgia in Rome. 

This bridge was guarded by a small army of Borgia guards... which was nothing to Dennis.

He put the twin great axes back in style, cleaving through one man after the next. He slashed clean through diagonally and horizontally in every angle you could imagine. Normal guards... especially the ones who wore glorified clothing, were nothing more than mincemeat to the killing machine that was Dennis.

With each success, the Assassin Brotherhood gained more confidence and rallied behind their seemingly invincible leader.

Before long, Dennis made the Borgia guards shit themselves, drop their wepaons and run away in fear. It was a fruitless endeavour... Dennis was too strong, fast, large, skilled, and ruthless for any normal person to defeat him. Despite being a masochist, not a single person managed to draw his blood...

That was pretty telling.

"How are we going to break past the gate?" Romola questioned.

"It's simple." Dennis put his axe to the side, resting it against the wall. He cracked his knuckles. "I'm going to punch it open."

"..."

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

Dennis kept hammering at the gate, each punch stronger than the last. He was doing his best JoJo 'ORA ORA ORA' impression... Russian edition. Meanwhile, the other assassins decided to use this time to get a breather.

That... would be a fatal mistake.

A white figure flashed from the top of the walls, descending down onto two assassins like an eagle. With two hidden blades drawn, the figure cut into their necks and killed them instantly. Then, he turned and fired his hidden blade gun - killing another. Then he drew his crossbow and killed another - followed by throwing knives.

"... Mentor?"

The rest of the assassins were too shocked to prepare to face him properly. In the blink of an eye, Ezio had slaughtered half of them with his wide arsenal of weapons. 

Dennis suddenly stopped bashing the gates, turning back.

"No fucking way." He chuckled at the sight. "What happened to you?"

"The enslavement of Roma has begun." He spoke with a robotic tone. "All assassins must die... along with their foolish and dangerous dream of liberty."

"Nah, you lost the plot." 

Dennis grabbed his axe, raising it above his shoulders. You know if Dennis calls someone crazy, they're pretty up there on the madness scale.

"You girlies... just fuck off and let me fight him one on one." Dennis grinned, facing Ezio. "I've been wanting a round two anyways."

"A man like you is dangerous... causing nothing but chaos and destruction at every step. You must be eliminated for Roma to move forward."

"Yeah... Borgia, Assassin, Templar... none of that shit matters to me." Dennis shrugged. "But... I'm here. I've been here. Doing all the missions, killing all the Templar dolboyobs, recruiting those hopeless idiots to this Brotherhood"

"I can't respect a man who turns back on something he built and started. Unlike you, when I start a fight... it doesn't end until I win... or die."

"Then you will die, here and now."

Ezio revealed the Apple of Eden from one of his pouches, its golden light shining out.

"What the fuck is that?-"

Dennis was engulfed in its golden glow, frozen still. Ezio drew his Sword of Altair and slowly stepped forward, creating six illusions of himself.

"What is this pussy shit?" Dennis frowned, clenching his fist as he tried to break free. "You need to use magic to beat me? Fight like a man..."

He stabbed him seven times in a row at once across his body from knees to shoulders, drawing a fountain of blood from Dennis. After that, Ezio let Dennis fall onto the ground and drew his hidden blade.

"Requiescat in Pace."

Just as he was about to pierce his neck, Dennis grabbed his foot and dragged him down. Ezio slipped onto the ground while Dennis drew the dagger of Brutus and aimed to stab Ezio. 

He replied by activating his hidden blade, blocking the dagger and sending Dennis flying back with the Apple's power.

BANG.

Dennis smashed against the wall, still bleeding profusely.

That did not deter him.

He drew Blackfyre - rising to his feet.

"Time to take this shit seriously..."

Then he did something even a mind-controlled Ezio could not believe. He took off the entire Armour of Brutus, revealing his bloodied body. He was completely naked.

"I did say armour is for pussies... but damn did it save me from going back home early." Dennis chuckled, pointing Blackfyre at Ezio. "What are you looking at, dolboyob? I know my dick is massive but you don't have to stare at it."

"..."

Ezio once again created six real illusions of himself, sending them forward to fight the naked Dennis. Surely they would dispatch him with ease... right?

Dead wrong.

Naked Dennis was a whole different animal, a whole different beast... a whole different monster.

He danced around the illusions and cut them to pieces with Blackfyre, fighting... perfectly. The level of fighting proficiency he displayed would make even the late Altair blush. Seeing this, Ezio chose to abuse the Apple even more - trying to freeze Dennis again.

"ARGH..." Dennis roared, shaking his head violently. "Nah... FUCK THAT BULLSHIT, BLYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!!"

It didn't work this time.

His raging fury... the boiling blood in his body erupted like a volcano. His power surged greatly as he broke free - engulfed in a crimson red aura. 

THUMP.

When he planted his foot down onto the ground, the earth quaked.

Then... he ran.

Ezio drew half a dozen knives at once, throwing them at the rapidly approaching Dennis.

He tanked them head-on and kept charging.

Ezio tried to use the Apple to push him back... but it did nothing.

As a last resort, he drew his sword and confronted him directly.

CLANG.

Dennis swung his sword against Ezio's sword arm, disarming him through his far greater strength and driving his sword into his chest.

"Requiescat in Pace."

Dennis lowered him to the ground, drawing his sword out of the assassin's chest.

"... The golden woman..." Ezio spoke, coughing up his blood. A look of regret washed over his face as he broke free. "She made me do this..."

"The golden woman?" Dennis raised an eyebrow. 

"She controls the minds of men to do her bidding... if she isn't stopped... not just Roma or Italia... the whole world will fall."

"ASSASSINO... KILL HIM!"

Dennis looked up as an army of Borgia guards charged out of the main gates. They were led by a regal figure, Cesare Borgia himself. He looked back at the spectating assassins, grasping Ezio's sword with his left hand.

"Take his body back, I'll handle the rest..." Dennis grinned. "This might be the last time I see you useless women... so do something useful for a change."

"..."

They accepted his strangely friendly insult, running forward to take Ezio's body and retreating. However, their retreat was blocked by another battalion of Borgia reinforcements from the other side.

"Balerion..."

Dennis spoke, and a dark shadow eclipsed the entire district, flying high above. It soared down on the beginning of the bridge and breathed fire onto the Borgia guards - melting every single one of them... along with some of the bridge.

The assassins ran down, jumping across the ruined bridge and to the streets of Roma. 

Meanwhile, Dennis took his last stand wielding the shiny white Sword of Altair alongside Blackfyre. As he danced in a perfect harmony, as if he were a painter who only painted with blood, the number of Borgia guards... didn't seem to decrease.

The more he killed, the more of them appeared.

Before he knew it, the Apple was out of sight.

By then... he chose to dive into the water and heal up real quick before coming for seconds. 

A hundred... three hundred... five hundred... a thousand... three thousand... ten thousand...

He kept mowing them down, creating a hill of slaughtered men. An entire day and night passed as more guards kept streaming out of the gates like a rushing waterfall.

Alas, the final batch had been killed.

Dennis was painted red with blood from head to toe... stinking like you couldn't imagine.

"I cannot be killed by man... I cannot be killed by man... no man can murder me..." 

Cesare muttered as Dennis approached him.

"Die."

Slash.

Dennis cut his head off, kicking it into the river.

He proceeded to invade the rest of the castle... and it went right about as well as you could imagine. No one was messing with Dennis.

He was deep in his Madness Enhancement after an entire day of slaughtering... killing everything in sight - armed or not. You'd think that he would get tired but the opposite had been the case. This streak of his wouldn't end anytime soon.

He had become an animal of pure instinct, his blood constantly rushing in never-ending andrenaline.

It was then that he sniffed out Lucrezia Borgia, who had hidden in a secret passage. He slaughtered every one of her guards and loomed over her like a dark shadow.

"Don't kill me..." She meekly surrendered to him. "I'll do anything..."

He took her by the arm and threw her against the wall - making the beautiful blonde-haired noblewoman face it while he tore off her clothes like a rabid beast. No one was going to save her... nor could anyone.

Dennis was going to fuck her brains out.

...

Meanwhile, Grace was watching that action on a cinema screen in 8K quality and 360 frames per second through the Apple's projection. She slurped on her soda, finding Dennis' assault on Lucrezia Borgia strangely arousing... even if she was burning with envy.

"If you're going to cheat on me, at least do it with someone who's somewhat beautiful..." She mused, finding the woman vastly inferior. "Though... I can't really blame you, can I? There isn't much of a selection to pick from down there."

Grace smiled, her heart pacing a little faster as she watched Dennis toil around Lucrezia like a fuckdoll.

"Hm... even so, you're becoming the man you were born to be. A natural calamity."

Raiden's Storm Chapter 54: Early Lead

[Edric's POV, first.]

A dragonbone bow was for an archer what valyrian steel was for a swordsman. While not nearly as rare and prestigious as the latter, it wasn't too far off. I imagined I'd have one eventually... either buying it for a steep price, taking it off an enemy or some other means.

But... falling into my lap like this? It was a welcome surprise, to be sure.

"You look very pleased, Your Grace," Rhaerra remarked. "I am most glad."

"Why would I not be?" I smiled. "You are most generous to come all this way and gift me such a beauty."

"The amusing thing is that it was a gift intended for you all along. The one-thousand-paces challenge was merely to see your performance in person. A spectacle for the masses - and myself." Rhaerra tilted her head slightly, shrugging. "I must say... you did impress."

"You truly are Dorian's daughter to play a game like that." I chuckled, shaking my head. "Might I inquire as to what his other gifts are?"

"Aren't you a little greedy?"

"Only curious." I shrugged. "Dorian's loyalty is gift enough for me, after all."

"His next gifts will be more significant than a bow, I am sure... but you will have to wait for quite some time." 

"Is that why you're here - to act on his behalf while he is away?" I looked at her mask.

"Precisely." She nodded. "I'll have to be your wet nurse for a little while, Your Grace."

"Heh." I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'm afraid I have no need for one."

"I would be inclined to agree... but my father insisted."

"Figuratively, I assume."

"No... literally." She replied with a clear tone of sarcasm, turning away. "Our first session starts tonight."

She definitely was a bit on the sassy end.

"Before you leave, I want to ask why you always wear some form of covering for your head?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Are you hiding something? It seems a little unnecessary to me."

"It sounds like you wish to see what's behind this mask, Your Grace."

"Not particularly."

"Now that's a lie." She chuckled, glancing back at me. "Say... why don't we have a little competition?"

"Hm?"

"There are seven events in this 'Great Tournament', and I intend to win every single one. If you and your men manage to win more than mine, then I will give this mask to you. Regarding this first event... I'll give it to you."

"Technically, you did win it." I shook my head. "Even if I took the purse."

"You're that confident in your men?" She tilted her head.

"Of course. What kind of question is that?"

"Very well... I will take the first victory." She nodded. "On the other end, if my men and I win more than your group, I'll have that armour we bet on before."

"You are quite obsessed with my old armour." I laughed. "What am I to make of that? You want me along with it?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Your Grace. I only like to collect artefacts with historical significance." She shook her head. "Though... I wouldn't mind you as a sellsword in my service."

"I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to afford me." I stroked my chin. "If by some chance I were one... the starting salary would have to be along the lines of one hundred thousand gold dragons per year."

"Do you know how many more men that kind of gold would buy?" She chuckled.

"And yet... none of them would be me." 

"... I am inclined to agree, given what I've witnessed." She stroked her chin. "When could I buy you?"

No way she's serious.

"You'd have to wait for the Summer Sale. Even then, there's no guarantee Ser Edric Storm would be available. He's quite the desirable commodity, you see."

"I suppose that would give me time to save," she remarked, making me think that she was serious. "Regardless, are you up for my bet? It's perfectly fine if you are afraid that your men are not up to the task-"

"Sure." I shrugged. "I suppose I shouldn't mind a free mask since my Kingsguard will wipe the floor with your nameless sellswords."

"They will not be nameless to you when they dirty the shiny white capes of your Kingsguard."

"Oh, really?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Mhm..." She replied with an air of confidence. 

"... I don't mean to interrupt, Your Grace." The event organiser held his hands together. "But..."

"We were done anyways." Rhaerra walked away. "I won't halt the next event further."

"Yes." I nodded. "Proceed with the throwing contest."

I wonder if she has her father's throwing chops... if so, that might be another event under her belt and an early 2-0 lead. 

"Look at you." 

A strangely familiar Summer Islander dressed in lavish and exotic clothes approached me. His colourful feather cape, feathered hat and beautiful goldenheart longbow clicked face to name quite quickly. It was none other than the man who surrendered his goldenheart bow to me through our bet...

He smiled with confidence.

"Armed with a dragonbone bone and ten times the archer you were the last time we met. And... of course, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms!" He spread his arms wide open. "What a turn of fate, eh? Do you even remember this humble Prince?"

"Of course, you're the Prince of the Isle of Gold - Dabhal Cho. The previous owner of my treasured goldenheart bow."

"That bow is no doubt even more famous than I." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Shame it broke on this day... it just wasn't quite made for the use of titans."

"It served me well and accomplished a feat no other bow could have."

"Indeed... it shall be remembered for a long, long, time. But it is not the bow that pulled the string and fired an arrow so far. That feat is yours alone." Dabhal Cho shrugged. "Any good bow could have sufficed."

"Regardless, it's good to see you again. I hope you enjoy your time in King's Landing."

I smiled, nodding and stepping ahead.

"There... is one matter I wish to discuss with you, if you would entertain me."

I paused, glancing back.

"And what would that be?"

"You are no stranger to conquest, I am told. What I ask is for your support... if you are not too busy. There are a great many rivals who seek my lands and will stop at nothing to see me defeated. You do know how we settle our conflicts, yes?"

"Ritualised warfare between warriors using spears and slings," I replied, recalling information from one of the many books I'd read. "They're like your own tourney melees where few die. The losers are sent away in exile."

"Jalabhar Xho would know best what that kind of defeat tastes like." Dabhal Cho chuckled. "Alas, I do not.. and have expanded my power and lands greatly over time, besting one prince after the other. This, however, has only made my rivals more resentful in their exile. I fear a real war is on the horizon - an invasion from my bitter, exiled, rivals who will undoubtedly be aided by my envious neighbours."

"You're not very popular, by the sound of things," I remarked with a chuckle.

"What can I say?" He shrugged. "Losing men are envious of the victors, those who triumph over them. You would know that most of all, Your Grace. It was my idea to gain some funding from this contest... but, alas, the competition was remarkably strong, and I underachieved."

"What am I to gain from supporting you?" I questioned bluntly.

"The Summer Isles, in their entirety." He spread his arms wide open in grand fashion. "I want to unite my people, as they were united by a scarce few... and held for a terribly short time by most of them. I want this endless war to end, at least so long as I live. We do not need a hundred princes, one ruler for each island, several for the larger ones... no. Not anymore."

"There should only be one." He closed his hand into a fist and held it in front of his fist as he spoke with charisma. "One Prince. One King. One People."

The difference between Jalabhar Xho and Dabhal Cho was night and day. One was a lavishly dressed beggar who had nothing but unconvincing words to offer, while the other came from a position of experience and power. He had a grand ambition, no less... one that paralleled my own.

That is... if he was telling the truth about his accomplishments and not talking out of his ass. I'll need to fact-check with Varys later.

"A compelling offer," I admitted, nodding. "I shall discuss the finer details with you at a more fitting time."

"As you wish." He lowered his head in a bow and walked away.

...

"No wonder why you didn't attend this archery contest," Arya remarked as I sat down and gave away my bow to a squire. "It would've been unfair."

"I had hoped that Ser Balon would emerge victorious, but that woman turned out to be more formidable than I expected..."

"You didn't want to give her any gold, did you? That's why you challenged her."

"Mhm." I chuckled, watching the preparation for the next competition. "I did not expect her to flip it on my head with an even greater challenge... but it worked out in the end."

"You somehow managed to make the event about you... as usual." She smiled slightly. "What did you two talk about?"

"A little bet. Nothing major."

I am not losing my armour... I'm too much of a sentimental person.

~

[Arya's POV]

Edric looked quite bored despite trying to look interested, his head resting on his hand. Arya knew full well that he would much rather be down there on the tournament grounds and competing... than sitting and watching. Even so, as the throwing contest reached the finals, he sat up.

Arya's eyes focused on the lady she had learned about from Edric: Rhaerra Aeraellis. The more she learned, the more she wanted to know, and the more she knew... well, the more she admired the figure.

When it came to throwing daggers and knives, she was just as good as she was with the bow. No one had even come close. However, for the javelins, she didn't participate and left it up to her men, who competed against the Kingsguard.

Funnily enough, they wore silver-white armour, which was not all that different from the Kingsguard. However, instead of white capes, they wore blue with a silver dragon emblazoned on it. They all looked valyrian, with silver or platinum-blonde hair and deep blue or purple eyes.

The tallest of the bunch, a giant that looked even taller than Edric, grabbed his javelin and tossed it further than anyone else did like a human catapult... further than even the Hound. No one else could throw it further - making him the winner.

Edric simply smiled as the champion's purse went to the giant. He was not only tall but muscular. His physique made him look like a Valyrian Edric, though Arya had no doubt who was stronger between the two.

"Congratulations... Baegel." He looked like he wanted to laugh saying his name. "That was an impressive throw. Most impressive."

"Big Baegel is the best, the strongest, the smartest, and the most handsome man in the world!" Big Baegal announced with pride. By his manner of speech, it didn't seem he was the brightest man around. "Big Baegel win gold for Goddess Rhaerra, Big Baegel eat very good tonight."

"Indeed, Big Baegel did win." Edric firmly nodded, seemingly playing along. "Goddess Rhaerra, very happy."

"Baby King, no speak for Goddess Rhaerra. Only Goddess Rhaerra can say Goddess Rhaerra is happy."

"... Of course." Edric chuckled. "How could I be so ignorant? Go on, to your Goddess."

"Big Baegel will crush little shiny Kingsguard in melee. Remember Big Baegel words."

"Hmph." Edric chuckled as he walked away... before breaking out into laughter. "How ridiculous... hahahaha."

"What's so funny?" Arya questioned with a raised eyebrow. She hadn't seen Edric laugh like that... ever. Not when he was sober, at least. 

"Do you really have to ask that? The bumbling brute is as much of a jester as a thrower, from his name to how he speaks. I can't even take his threat personally..." Edric laughed, shaking his head. "Rhaerra seems to have a more colourful group than I first thought. Even so, the Hound would eat that fool alive in single combat."

"It might be closer than you think," Arya observed. He had thrown a decent bit further than the Hound, showing more raw strength.

With a clean sweep of the throwing event, Rhaerra's group seemed to be looking for total domination. When it came to running with or without armour, one of Rhaerra's men earned first place in both. Daman... who looked like he could never get tired.

As for riding... Ser Loras looked like he was about to win until Rhaerra overtook him, followed by another one of her men - a man called Valaegor Raelaereonor. His name was one that Arya nor Edric could say without giving up midway. With Ser Loras finishing third in the final competition of the racing event... and another good chunk of gold falling into Rhaerra's lap, Edric finally stood up.

Whatever the bet was... he was losing it.

"So that's how it is... fine." Edric took a deep breath. "Dallin, Ragnor, Dickon... bring me my new armour."

"I'll show those lousy Kingsguard what winning looks like."

Arya found herself feeling unreasonably excited... grinning as he took to the field.

She knew no one was taking any gold from him in the melee.

Raiden's Storm Chapter 53: Birth Of A Myth

The Great Tournament would have seven events in honour of the Seven: archery, throwing, racing, a free-for-all melee, mock team battles, duels between distinguished fighters from the melee, and the joust. Events such as throwing would have multiple competitions, such as light and heavy throwing objects. As for mock team battles, the victorious team would be divided into duellists to decide the grand victor.

Since Edric's vision became far grander than even Harrold Arryn had ever hoped, Edric chose to contribute some of his wealth to the prizes. As they were going to have a tournament at such a time... he decided to make it one to remember. 

...

Whooosh...

Crunk.

Loras' lance broke against Edric's armour, dropping him to the ground for the third time on a row. He remained on his back for quite a while, looking up at the sky. This jousting business... it had never been his strong suit.

Meanwhile, almost the entire court looked on. 

"Loras is a skilled lance, indeed." Harrold Arryn remarked. "He may even be the finest in all the Seven Kingdoms."

"Edric hasn't properly practised jousting since he left Storm's End for the Hand's Tourney," Arthur added, shaking his head. "Mainly because he sees no use for a lance in a real battle... when he has his bow. Though, I will admit that Loras is the best amongst us regarding jousting."

"I've seldom heard of a joust with bows." Tyrion japed. "Though I suppose His Grace prefers winning battles over competitions."

"You've at last crawled out of the brothels, imp," Renly remarked, observing his small stature. "I could've almost missed the sight of you."

"It seems to me that Lannisters aren't very welcome around these parts anymore." Tyrion cracked a slight smile, savouring his cup of wine. "Men seem to forget that I was the one who surrendered Casterly Rock and provided the Lannister fleet along with all the swords I could for the invasion of the Iron Isles."

"When it was all lost, you did," Renly said, shaking his head.

"The siege could have lasted an extended period of time... given that Casterly Rock is quite impenetrable." Tyrion shrugged. "Which may have led to most unfavourable events, Lord Regent. Though, I will save you the effort of thinking about that and instead say that I've only come here to honour His Grace. I have nothing but admiration for him."

"... Of course." Renly chuckled in a doubtful tone.

"Is it unlawful to be a good bannerman these days?"

"No... yet it is difficult to see you as one."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Tyrion remarked. "He spared my brother when more than half the Realm wanted his head."

"Is His Grace planning to get up from the ground today?" Oberyn remarked with a laugh. "Or did the Knight of Flowers kill his will to joust?"

Edric sighed, slowly getting off the ground.

'I'm a fraud without Hyper-Focus when it comes to jousting...' He thought, chucking at himself. 'Built like Javalee Mcgee... big for nothing.'

"Do you wish to take a break, Your Grace?" Loras asked, taking on a sympathetic expression as he removed his helm and rode towards him. "We've exchanged quite a number of tilts today... I believe that was the thirtieth one." 

"Nah..." Edric shook his head, his blue eyes glowing with flaming competitive spirit. "I'm just getting started. However, if you're getting tired, I could always swap you out for another Kingsguard. I wouldn't want to wear you out before the actual tournament."

"... No, I'm well enough. Almost as good as fresh."

"No excuses when I knock you off, then." Edric chuckled, kicking his lance off the ground and grasping it from the air. "Just know that I'm not leaving on a loss even if it takes all day."

"... Your persistence is admirable, Your Grace."

"Except it won't take all day. Just the next tilt."

"We'll see."

Edric mounted his horse with confidence, taking a deep breath. 

"How many times do you plan to lose... in a row?" Arya questioned from the stands. "Have you ever even jousted before?"

"Shut up... I have." Edric glanced at her. "A couple of times."

"Looks to me like it's your first time with a lance. You're embarrassing."

"I think you're doing quite well... just falling a little short of winning," Margaery added with a sweet smile. "I'm sure His Grace would win consistently against easier opponents."

"Thank you for your honesty, Arya." Edric nodded, ignoring Margaery. "You are right... this is quite embarrassing. I need to be better at hitting Loras with this wooden stick."

'Let me cheat... a little.' Edric thought. 'Loras is getting a bit too cocky.'

Edric proceeded to use Hyper-Focus for the next seven tilts, knocking Loras off with perfect accuracy each time. He made it look so easy that Loras began to question his own skills... and if Edric had been trolling him the entire time. Alas, that was not at all the case. He was just a Hyper-Focus merchant with the lance.

After that, he continued jousting Loras and the other good jousters in his service... until midnight.

...

Edric gathered his Kingsguard before the tournament for a speech.

"They say that some of you are too young, too inexperienced. Some say that the Kingsguard have taken a colossal fall from grace... that it is a shadow of its former, honourable, prestigious and skilled self. They say that the Kingsguard of old would simply walk over you."

While Edric spoke, he paced around them with his hands behind his back.

"... I say they are all wrong!" Edric turned to face them. "If you were who they say you are, you'd be dead or dismissed already. I have taken you all through the fires of hell, forging knights worthy of the white armour you wear. All those intense training sessions that would break lesser men and the battles that would kill them... you have survived, emerging stronger than before!"

"Now... it is time to let the Realm know who you are, to prove me right for having chosen you as my Kingsguard!" Edric raised one hand dramatically, seemingly grasping the sky and closing it into a fist. "Etch your names into their hearts! Snatch victory from every fool who believes themselves more worthy than you! Bring glory and honour to not only yourselves, but your house, sworn brothers and King!"

"Engrave your very names into the annals of history... so that they may never be forgotten for so long as there are men who draw breath!"

"Go out there... and win!"

Suffice to say, the morale of the Kingsguard was at an all-time high as the Grand Tournament began. All five of them had joined their swords in a circle under the most enthusiastic Ser Arthur, swearing absolute victory. 

"For the King!"

He shouted loud and clear.

"For the King!"

The rest followed his chant, raising their swords to the sky and splitting apart.

~

The archery event had been open to pretty much everyone who showed the capacity to fire an arrow and was willing to participate. However, Edric substantially increased the initial qualifier difficulty by placing it at eighty paces, shaving tens of thousands off in the first round. As the rounds progressed, the distance increased to a hundred and five.

By then, only three competitors remained standing. 

Anguy, Balon Swann and... Rhaerra Aeraellis.

Edric was leaning forward at this point, observing the competition closely. Anguy looked to be stretching his luck a little while he knew Balon Swann could fire from a greater range. Rhaerra... she was the only uncertainty. The longbow in her hand seemed exceptional, quite unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was black and scaled, strong yet flexible.

A hundred and ten paces...

Anguy missed by an inch while the other two struck their mark.

A hundred and fifteen paces...

Whoosh.

Balon Swann missed - just barely.

Edric took a deep breath. Surely the woman would miss as well?

As Rhaerra took upon the most textbook shooting form he had ever seen, she drew the bowstring all the way back and fired without hesitation. The arrow went soaring and...

Struck dead-centre. 

The crowd cheered at the result as the champion had been decided at a rather high one hundred and fifteen paces. In recent history, only Edric's own showing at the Hand's Tourney could eclipse this display of accuracy and range.

Edric's eyes widened slightly. As much as he wanted to dislike the result, she had very much won... and impressed him. Not only did she beat the best archer in his Kingsguard, but she also did it while wearing a mask. He could only stand up and announce her as the champion of the archery contest.

"I wish to congratulate Rhaerra Aeraellis on her wonderful display of skill with the bow. It was a spectacle, indeed, one that had me on the edge of my seat. The other finalists impressed as well... no doubt, they would have easily been champions in other archery contests." Edric smiled with charisma, addressing the crowd before turning to Rhaerra. 

"My lady, how would you like the possibility of doubling your earnings... and challenging me at a range of three hundred paces? If I miss first, you win without firing."

"Three... hundred?" Rhaerra questioned, raising an eyebrow beneath her mask. She chuckled, observing his expression. "How about a thousand paces? If you can hit a target from that range on the first attempt, I'll surrender the champion's purse to you and gift you a dragonbone longbow worthy of a mythical archer."

"A thousand paces... is that woman mad?" Renly raised an eyebrow. "Even for you, Edric..."

"And if I miss?" Edric questioned.

"I'll have the armour you wore against the Vale's Mountain Clans."

"What an odd request." Edric tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "You want my old armour?"

"It is a mark of history." She nodded. "I would not mind adding it to my collection. That is... if you accept the challenge, Your Grace. I would not blame you for walking away. After all, what mortal person could possibly strike true from such a range - let alone on the first try and at your young age? Only a being blessed by the Gods could achieve such a feat."

Edric grinned a little. She had flipped his way of restoring his Kingsguard's honour against him by posing a seemingly impossible challenge. Not only that, but she also stoked the fires of his pride as the best living archer and brought his claims of being the 'Chosen Son of the Seven' into question.

If he withdrew or failed, it would not look too well... but if he won... 

It would be the ultimate feat.

A feat that would forever mark him as the greatest archer to ever draw breath and someone who could only be blessed by the Gods.

"What a stupid challenge," Arya remarked. "Let her have the win and move on."

Edric took a deep breath, slowly standing up. It looked like no one believed it was remotely possible - even for him. 

"It's a clear attempt to swindle you of your armour," Harrold remarked. "There's no reason to bite on the bait, Your Grace..."

"Well... I'm not forcing your hand." Rhaerra shrugged. "It's only a fun little challenge. A way to prove yourself... or not."

"You think a thousand paces is a challenge for me?" Edric questioned, turning to Arthur with an air of confidence. "Ser Arthur, ready my bow. I will show every man, woman, and child present a miracle to remember."

"... Yes, Your Grace." Arthur bowed his head. "I have faith that you will succeed."

As Edric walked down to the archery contest grounds, he had to take a long walk away from the target. Then, the archery contest overseer had to measure the exact distance of a thousand paces, which took quite a while. Eventually, it was marked, and Edric stood directly on it.

'North of seven-hundred and fifty metres...'

Edric thought to himself, readying his goldenheart bow as a strong wind blew over him. He planted his feet and took the perfect position he had trained with countless times.

'I'm stretching my luck a little.'

He closed his eyes, channelling Storm Magic. The strong wind suddenly calmed completely as if it had never existed. He slowly opened his eyes and narrowed on the target like an eagle that had found its prey.

He prepared an arrow and held onto its end, placing it against his bowstring. Then, he began to pull back with all his strength - rapidly. Lightning sparked on his body and cloaked the arrow.

Whoosh.

After pulling as far back as he physically could, he let go without a moment's of hesitation and heard his goldenheart bow crack in response.

The force behind the arrow was so strong he could hear the air blow like the wind. It soared into the skies - swift as lightning. In hardly a second, it reached the target... and exploded right into it.

Only silence followed for several seconds as everyone let the moment sink into their hearts.

Edric had hit a target from a thousand paces.

It had been the birth of a myth that would echo far past his death.

What came after was the sound of raging, deafening applause from lowborn and highborn alike. Edric walked forward, observing his goldenheart bow with dismay. They had been through a lot together... but its chapter in his life seemed to end as he outgrew it, just like the armours he had worn before.

'You've served me well.'

Edric lowered it and went ahead to confront Rhaerra, who had prepared a pitch-black dragonbone bow that was almost as large as Edric himself. It was inlaid with golden patterns that shone under the light, depicting myths he did not recognise. Its majesty, the aura that the bow had... it seemed to be one of a kind. Magical, even. A bow that had seen the test of time...

"They say that this great dragonbone longbow once belonged to a peerless, god-like, archer from the Golden Empire of Yi Ti who could eclipse the sun with his arrows alone," Rhaerra remarked. "Since his death thousands of years ago, it hasn't known a single person who could wield it effectively... and has remained little more than a collectable. Mayhaps this legendary bow has found a worthy owner today?"

Edric grasped it and was thoroughly mesmerised.

"Indeed... it has."

Barbarian's Path To Multiversal Domination Chapter 9: Best Recruiter In Town

Dennis’ mission took him to Moscow to ‘defend a captain’. He took the long way once again, sprinting over there on another absurdly long marathon. Meanwhile, the other assassin recruits benefited from simply teleporting over there. They had even started the mission without him…

When he finally got there, Dennis finally felt at home. It was Mother Russia… and the city he had been born in - only five hundred years early. Though most of the buildings were completely different, the weather and land were not at all strange to him.

It was more of a vacation instead of a mission… until his senses started blaring. Something felt wrong.

[Failure to protect the captain means erasure for all present assassins… even if they don’t die in battle.]

The game’s ‘system’ gave him a tip, which set him off.

He searched for the captain, finding him in a short few minutes by using his advanced senses and incredibly swift parkour skills. He was practically flying from building to building.

The first thing he saw was the four female recruits overrun by red-armoured opponents. The captain he was supposed to protect was practically on his last legs. That meant Dennis himself was on his last legs, too. If the captain dies… so does he.

Dennis wasn’t going to die on the account of his incompetent ‘sisters’.

He hurled his greataxe from above, the axe dancing in the air at an air-piercing pace. It cleaved right through one of the captain’s assailants before embedding itself into the ground. Dennis tossed three smoke bombs around the captain and took a leap of faith from over forty feet into a haystack. Once he landed, he got right out.

He drew Blackfyre and slashed through a dozen opponents in a fierce, wild yet swiftly efficient manner - carving a path to the captain through the smoke. When he reached him, most of the assailants scattered in fear. He killed the rest without much effort. 

“Go find a box and hide or some shit.” Dennis looked at the captain. “If you fucking die, I’ll find you in the afterlife and kill you again.”

“Thank you for saving my life, Assassin.” The captain said, seemingly ignoring his statement. “As you can see… I am injured.”

“And I’m not a doctor. What do you want me to do about it, dolboyob?”

He fell to the ground. “My men will help carry me to one… but I am certain that there will be more of those bastards coming after us.”

“That’s better… I’ll handle them.” Dennis nodded, turning to his fellow assassins, who were all heavily wounded. “You four should be cooking and cleaning instead of playing assassin.”

"Good day to you, brother." 

They each bowed to him... also ignoring his statement. They weren't programmed to have any lines in reply to that.

"..." Dennis rolled his eyes and tossed four medicine vials, one for each of them. “Heal up and go to the rooftops. I'll handle the rest on my own."

Handle the rest, he did… earning the admiration of his sisters through his combat prowess. 

...

Dennis would continue to go on a multitude of missions alongside the same women across most of Europe, inadvertently training them to be better. Due to sharing his XP with the rest, his progress to the final rank of Assassin had been slowed by a great amount. 

Alas, he eventually reached the requirement, but his ceremony hadn't occurred since Ezio had yet to go to the hideout. Instead, he had been sent on more babysitting missions until they caught up with him rank-wise. 

It was only then that Ezio returned to the hideout.

Dennis entered a cutscene with a new set of robes, similar to Ezio's but white. 

"Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine."

Ezio spoke a language Dennis did not recognise as he stepped up to the fire. They exchanged bows before Ezio took a flaming metal rod and placed it on Dennis' left ring finger - burning a mark. 

"The wisdom of our Creed is revealed through these words. We work in the dark, to serve the light. We are Assassins."

"Nothing is true. Everything is permitted."

In the next flash, Dennis took a leap of faith from the top of the Tiber Hideout.

~

Elizabeth suddenly yawned, observing her five new maxed recruits. She had played through a great deal, collecting Borgia flags, doing Romulus Lair missions, completing her group of female assassins and a good amount of the main story... 

It was 3am, and she was tired as hell - deciding to finally turn off the game.

"Tired?" Grace questioned with a chuckle.

"I don't know how you're as energetic as ever." Elizabeth remarked. "Seriously, where is that guy?"

"What guy?"

"Your boyfriend."

"I guess he went home." Grace shrugged. "Family emergency or something."

"Oh... okay. I was thinking something crazy had happened."

"Definitely not." Grace smiled, shaking her head. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. You get a nice night's worth of sleep."

"Mn..." 

As she went off to sleep, Grace teleported herself into the same world as Dennis.

...

Dennis raised an eyebrow as the entire world turned dark for a minute. Everything froze still in time, glitching out. Rome looked like some strange kind of purgatory. 

[Anomaly occurred... rebooting world.]

'Rebooting? The fuck?'

Everything turned white and was seemingly refreshed - born anew. Dennis suddenly realised that everything felt more... real. Not only that, but he also attained his actual body. 

Since he wasn't being sent on any missions, he could enjoy Roma at his own pace. Though... this enjoyment was mainly done through continuing his Borgia Flag hunting. There was something about them that really triggered something within his soul. 99% of his existence had been spent hunting them, after all...

They led him through the final Lairs of Romulus, where he flew through all the obstacles and slaughtered the Romulus (furry) cult members who stood in his way. This also meant that he collected the rest of the keys for the Armour of Brutus...

His senses led him to the underground tunnels, which stood locked behind a gate.

He unlocked the gate with the rest of the keys and took the finest armour for himself. It looked far better than the Assassin attire... and Dennis found its wolf-like black-red appearance rather fitting. Also, there was the dagger of Brutus which had once stabbed Julius Caesar. He took it as well.

After effectively stealing the Armour and dagger of Brutus from future Ezio, Dennis saw the real Ezio scaling the rooftops in the distance. He decided to follow him. The Mentor was quite fast but Dennis was a great deal faster, catching up to him.

"You are?" Ezio questioned, readying a hand on his sword.

"Let's see just how good you are." 

Dennis drew Blackfyre and dashed towards him.

CLANG.

To his surprise, Ezio managed to block him. Dennis grinned slightly.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Dennis' eyes widened as Ezio deflected his blow and was about to counter him. Dennis instinctively raised his left hand and erected his hidden blade- blocking Ezio's sword. Afterwards, he kicked Ezio in the chest and knocked him back.

"You're an Assassin?" Ezio questioned.

Dennis took off his hood and showed his face.

"Yeah."

"That is one way of saying hello, Dennis." Ezio smiled slightly. "That armour... you managed to locate the other Lairs of Romulus?"

"Yeah." Dennis nodded. "The armour looked better than my old one, so I put it on."

"You work fast," Ezio remarked. "Since you are here, I will need you to find some recruits for the Brotherhood."

"... Can't you do it yourself?"

"I have some business with Cesare... and I will need you to look after the rest of the Brotherhood while I am away. That means being a leader and turning the people to our side. It shouldn't prove difficult for a man of your talents."

"Turns out you can't send me off all over Europe anymore with that bullshit system... I'm a free man." Dennis raised his sword, pointing it at Ezio. "If you can beat me, I'll do it. But if you can't... then you have no right to order me around."

"What are you talking about?" Ezio raised an eyebrow.

"The game. This game." Dennis chuckled. "No point in trying to explain it... just fight me."

[Equal Parameters enabled.]

"A spar, is it? Very well."

Dennis swung forward with all of his force while Ezio strafed to the side, slashing at his side. Dennis once again raised his hidden blade, but Ezio's slash went lower and faster- cutting through his greaves. It was then that Dennis reached out for his hand and dragged him forward, smashing his forehead against Ezio's.

The mentor staggered back, and Dennis punched him in the face with his left hand, adding a slash with his hidden blade. 

"Are you fighting to kill?" Ezio questioned.

"That's the only way to fight!"

Dennis grinned.

Ezio recovered from his daze and tossed several knives his way at once. Dennis couldn't block them all as they soared in multiple directions - piercing through the weak points in his armour. 

'This guy is good...' Dennis thought as he ignored the pain and dashed forward. 

Ezio clashed swords against Dennis once more.

The two fought at their best, for several minutes... and neither of them gave an inch. What Ezio had for peerless skill, Dennis made up for with his unorthodox and savage fighting style. As they continued to clash, the Borgia rooftop guards rallied and chose to ambush them.

Ten crossbowmen would fire at once.

Dennis suddenly threw Ezio to the ground and took the brunt of the crossbow bolts. While an ordinary person would be well on their way to being six feet under, all Dennis did was laugh as seven of the crossbow bolts pierced him.

The crossbowmen would reload and fire again... yet he remained standing.

"That shit tickles..." He laughed, taking out his own crossbow and shooting one of them dead. "Can't say the same for you, can I?"

Meanwhile, Ezio rolled off the roof and began hunting the Brogia guards one after the other. While they remained focused on Dennis, he managed to kill most of them with ease. Afterwards, they met on the same rooftop.

"Ready for round two?" Dennis questioned, putting his crossbow on his back.

"... Sure." Ezio drew his sword. "I will show you why I am the Mentor."

As they continued fighting on, Dennis' fighting genius began to shine through as he adapted to Ezio's advanced skills. Before long, he began pushing the mentor back... back... and back - until he laid on the ground.

Dennis stood over him, Blackfyre in hand.

He was reluctant to kill him.

More than reluctant, even.

He respected him as a warrior.

"Even though you didn't beat me, I'll recruit some assassins for you." Dennis sheathed his sword and offered a hand. "It shouldn't be too hard for me."

"Will I need to fight you before assigning any new tasks from now on?" Ezio remarked as he took his hand.

"Maybe." Dennis chuckled. "It was pretty fun."

"I cannot say that we have the same idea of 'fun'," Ezio said, smiling. "You almost killed me, bastardo."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." 

After ensuring that Ezio doesn't kick the bucket from his injuries, Dennis went out looking for recruits. He found some Borgia guards abusing a woman in a dark alleyway - aiming to have their way with her. He effortlessly tossed a few knives and killed all three of them.

The woman looked terrified, glancing at him and then at the three corpses. As Dennis strode forward slowly - like a demon - she turned tail and started running away.

"..."

Dennis blinked. 'Was it like this for Ezio too? Something tells me it's easier for him...'

He chased after her, tackling the woman. He then dragged her off the ground by her arm and let go.

"The liberation of Roma has begun." He said, copying what Ezio had said to him. "If you choose to flee... I'll fucking kill you. But if you choose to fight, then stand with me against the Borgia and help kill those stupid dolboyobs with their silly little red painter hats."

"Messere... I'm... not a fighter... please let me go home."

"I beg your pardon?" Dennis chuckled, raising one hand to raise her by the neck and choke the woman. "You're going to Tiber Island whether you like it or not. Do you understand?"

"... Y-yes..." The woman struggled, wriggling her legs in the air.

"It's good that we're on the same page."

Dennis finally let go.

"If I don't see you in the Tiber Island hideout tomorrow, I'll kill your entire family."

"I don't have a family," she countered, shaking her head. "I have no one."

"Then I'll rape you myself." Dennis grinned slightly. "And trust me... you'll feel it for the rest of your life."

"..." 

"That settles that, then." 

Dennis turned away, continuing his... aggressive recruiting. The next person he found was a young man fighting off multiple guards in the middle of the street. He slaughtered them all with ease, shaking the young man's hand.

"The Liberation of Roma has begun." Dennis grabbed his shoulder. "Join us in fighting these dickheads... which you're already doing anyways."

"Join who?" The man questioned.

"The Assassin Brotherhood," Dennis explained. "Go to the Tiber Island Hideout, and you'll learn about the rest there. Trust me, it's the best career choice for you. If you don't join us... well, you won't be alive much longer."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'll carve you up like a juicy watermelon with my sword." Dennis smiled, increasing the strength of his grasp on the man's shoulder. "Got it?"

"... Yes, Messere."

"Good dog."

Dennis pat his head and went looking for his third recruit. He found a man being chased by five guards. Again, he killed all of them and caught up to the man. He had kept running... which made Dennis grin slightly. He caught up to the man and tackled him to the ground.

"The Liberation of Roma has begun," Dennis said looking over him.

"What are you talking about?" The man questioned.

"I want YOU for the Assassin Brotherhood." Dennis pointed down at him before pointing at the highest vantage point nearby. "Join us, or I'll toss you off the top of that church over there."

"... Are you mad? I am just a thief..."

"We'll make you into a cold-blooded killer, mate, don't you worry." Dennis showed some charisma as he smiled. "Don't be a pussy."

"... Uh... sure."

"Listen, if I don't see you at the Tiber Island Hideout by tomorrow afternoon, I'll find you again and break every bone in your body. Got it?"

"Yes... Messere-"

"On you go, then."

~

Meanwhile, in the Castel Sant'Angelo.

Ezio Auditore had infiltrated it for the second time after using the key he attained from Lucrezia Borgia's lover. He then witnessed Cesare Borgia kill his own father and then choke his sister while breaking her heart. Afterwards, Ezio sought the location of the Apple of Eden before Cesare could get it. Lucrezia told him where it was and so, he went sprinting after it...

But... it would be Cesare nor Ezio who would win the race.

A golden-haired figure had cut them to the chase, retrieving the Apple of Eden for herself. It glowed with power in her palm, shining luminously. Cesare drew his sword while Ezio tried to figure out who the hell that was. In truth, neither had any idea. She almost looked like one of the Isu, a goddess.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Grace pouted slightly. "Did I steal an apple? I hope you can forgive me."

"Guards... kill that whore and retrieve the artefact!"

She raised the Apple of Eden and a golden light shined out, covering the entire courtyard. Suddenly, the guards turned against each other. In hardly seconds, they had killed each other. Meanwhile, Ezio and Cesare were frozen still... unable to move.

"What to do with the protagonist and antagonist?" She mused, tilting her head. Her lips slowly curled into a smile. "Hm... I know."

"Dennis will love this."

Raiden's Storm Chapter 52: Oaths And Vows

After entering, Edric exchanged formalities before ascending to the Iron Throne and holding court. Given the number of visitors, there were many highborn seeking an audience with him. Holding court would be a way to handle all of their matters in one session rather than being disturbed later.

First up was Harrold Arryn, who stopped several steps before the bottom of the Iron Throne.

"It is a great honour to be in your presence once more, Your Grace." He bent his knee and lowered his head rather solemnly. "Since it was you who raised me to the position of Lord Paramount, chosen me a worthy bride and rid the Vale of the villainous Mountain Clans, I wished to honour you by funding a great tourney and marrying within the capital before you. I am aware that I had not sought your permission before moving, but..."

"Do not fret over it, Lord Harrold." Edric raised his hand, smiling slightly. "I approved of it the moment I received your letter."

"I am pleased to hear that, Your Grace." Harrold smiled, raising his head to look up. "There is something that I wish to announce as well..."

"Go ahead." Edric placed his head on his arm, observing with curiosity. "You may rise to do so."

He nodded, standing up and turning to face the court.

"I wish to proclaim, before the eyes of all the lords of the Realm and our great King, that I, Lord Harrold Arryn, the Lord of the Vale and Warden of the East, am His most fervent bannerman! Should there be any threat to His Grace's reign in the future, the Vale shall be the first to rally to his cause with every sword, bow, spear, mace and horse at the ready! I shall serve His Grace with wholehearted loyalty... as Jon Arryn had served Robert Baratheon... until my very last breath."

Renly chuckled, leaning to the side against a wall. He found his claim to be the most fervent supporter amusing. Stannis Baratheon looked on with the same stern expression, thinking a similar thing as Renly did. Meanwhile, Edric kept his smile.

"I appreciate your passionate oath of loyalty, Lord Harrold." Edric nodded. "It is reassuring to know that the Vale stands so firmly behind me."

Harrold turned back to Edric, bowing.

"It is the least I could do to wash away the terrible stain Lysa Arryn left on the Vale's name."

"You will accomplish that sooner rather than later, I am sure. Is there anything else?"

"Only the finer details of the great tournament... but I should like to discuss that with you privately."

"Very well." Edric nodded. "I shall see you after this hearing."

Not soon after, Lyn Corbray would step up.

"As I am a second son and stand to inherit no lands, I wish to enter your direct service as a knight, Your Grace." Lyn Corbary knelt before the Iron Throne. "If you would have me, of course..."

"You are a distinguished warrior, Ser." Edric nodded, discreetly eyeing his valyrian steel sword, Lady Forlorn. "I would gladly have you."

"I am honoured."

After several other matters related to the Vale Lords and knights, most of which had been gifts and praises - Brynden Tully stepped up. Edric was curious as to what he had to say.

"It is well known that you executed my niece for her acts of treason, and I wish to say that I hold no grudges for the act. You gave her a chance to surrender, and she remained stubborn till the bitter end." Brynden Tully stated, raising his head to look up at Edric. "To make amends for her foolishness and restore House Tully's honour, I wish to offer you my service."

"You are a seasoned veteran of dozens of battles who served my father and Jon Arryn splendidly for many years; I would be more than honoured to have you." Edric nodded. 'Loras, Lyn and Blackfish... am I unintentionally building the Westerosi homosexual superteam?'

More knights from across the Realm would pledge themselves directly in service to Edric, seeking glory and honour. Edric accepted them all like free loot. He had no reason to turn away skilled men who offered to work for free. Though... some of them were a bit more ambiguous than others skill-wise. Not all knights were exactly warriors - some had merely been granted the honour because of their name and bloodline, such as the sons of highborn lords.

All it took for one to become a knight was for another to knight them, after all.

Even so... Edric saw potential.

His court session would last the entire day as he entertained his guests and settled any disputes. Once night came, he would finally descend from the Iron Throne and stretch his legs. Most of his body ached from sitting on the least comfortable seat in all of the Seven Kingdoms for hours on end. His social battery was also completely drained by speaking to well over a hundred people and pretending to look interested in their matters.

A battle was far more fun and less tiring for him... but Edric had pushed through it all while maintaining a cheerful mood on the outside. 

"You did well," Renly remarked with a smile. "Robert would've fallen asleep listening to all of the bickering of highborn."

"I was close to doing so myself." Edric chuckled, shaking his head. "Alas, I've freed myself up for a good while."

"Hm..." Renly nodded. "I heard about your little entanglement, Edric... and so did Stannis. He keeps hanging it over my head as if I had any hand in it."

"What do you think of it?" Edric questioned.

"You did what your heart told you to," Renly shrugged. I see no fault in it... except that the girl you bedded was Margaery. I am sure you know it is a matter of greater importance. Now would be a better time than ever to wed her-"

"-Because she threw herself onto my drunken self?" Edric added, raising an eyebrow. "If anything, I am exceedingly lenient on them. Throwing Arya aside and marrying Margaery instead because of her little scheme... uncle, do you take me for a fool?"

"... Of course not, Your Grace. I was only informed that it was a night of passion and love." Renly tilted his head slightly. "It would seem that my information might have been flawed..."

"While I might consider her a friend, she is no lover of mine." Edric replied, shaking his head. "I've already said so once and my mind remains unchanged; when Arya is a woman grown, I will wed her, and she will be the queen. After that, I might consider Margaery's position if she remains unwed."

Renly raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"It depends on what the future holds... regardless, I will hear no more of my marriage prospects. Is there anything else you wish to speak of?"

"No, Your Grace, I won't take more of your time today. You should take this time to rest instead." Renly smiled slightly, nodding. "I know you must be tired from your journey."

"I'll take your advice, uncle."

...

Edric called for Varys in his study room, still intrigued by the group he encountered earlier. 

"Please, sit." 

"How might I serve you, Your Grace?" Varys questioned.

"Might you know of the group that wears a banner with a silver dragon on a sky-blue field? I met them in King's Landing earlier and am curious of their origin."

"If I am not mistaken, that would be the merchant Princess Rhaerra Aeraellis and her retainers." 

"Rhaerra Aeraellis... can you tell me more about this person?" Edric asked 'That name is quite the mouthful.'

"Certainly, Your Grace." Varys nodded. "She is famed for her seemingly countless talents, including painting, learning, architecture, crafting, singing, acting, sailing, and managing finances, among other things. Her skill as an archer is also well-noted for a woman, and few people are as passionate about creative arts as she is. As far as I know, she is fluent in over a dozen languages."

'...'

"Due to her vast talents, ambition and diligence, she has accumulated an enormous treasury, formed a bank and commands a fleet of two dozen merchant ships."

"..." Edric paused, blinking silently as he let all of that sink in. 'What can't this woman do? I reckon that list would be shorter.'

"I imagine you would also be amused to know that she is Dorian Daggerhand's daughter."

"... His daughter?" Edric blinked once more, beginning to speculate her true purpose. 'That rogue... is this one of his so-called 'gifts'?'

"In all but blood," Varys explained. "From what I know, he has been unable to sire any children despite his frequent entanglements with various women. That is why, thirteen-odd years ago, he chose to buy Rhaerra and raise her as his own."

"I'd think that he would be the type of man to prefer a son to inherit his legacy." Edric stroked his chin.

"Maybe that is true, but Rhaerra was no ordinary girl. She was bred from many generations of slaves by masters who sought certain traits. They bred beauty with beauty, beauty with strength, beauty with intellect, and it goes on. Rhaerra... she is what you might call the 'perfect' culmination of hundreds of years of such practices."

"... I see." Edric nodded. "What of Dorian himself? What is his origin?"

"He was a bastard born of passion and sold to a slaver at the age of eight. From there, he-"

"Who were his parents?" Edric questioned, raising an eyebrow. He had already heard the slave story and many others from Dorian himself - but very little of his parents.

"His father was little more than a commoner, a sailor of great charm and not much more. As for his mother... she was a disgraced noble."

"Hmm..." Edric took note that he did not say any names. He certainly had one in mind.

"He does not hold his bloodline in high regard, and it only led him to slavery, so it matters little. All that he is today was made from his own efforts."

"You would be right." Edric rose from his seat. "Thank you for your time, Lord Varys."

"Any time." Varys lowered his head slightly. "Your Grace."

~

[Jaime's POV]

While the initial days in Castle Black were not too kind to Jaime Lannister, he began to accustom himself to the brothers of the Night's Watch. He became less prideful and mocking towards the men around him, even if they mocked him. Each time he felt the need to rectify their mockery, he had thought of his father's words;

'A lion doesn't concern himself with the opinion of sheep'.

Though a majority of the Night's Watch disliked him, Jaime had befriended a group of men and gained some support. His 'training' went exceptionally well as he showed why he was held in high regard as a swordsman and showed potential in terms of being a ranger. 

He even found himself enjoying the constant physical activities, which allowed his mind to focus on what was in front of him rather than his misery.

Soon enough, he had been assigned to the rangers and was only one step away from becoming a man of the Night's Watch... his vows.

...

As Jaime was no believer of the Old Gods, he did not have to say his vows before a weirwood tree and chose to do so in Castle Black's sole sept instead. It was a small building, crowded with men. Most of the men gathered around, wishing to see the sight of the famed Jaime Lannister becoming a man of the Night's Watch. A lot of them even waited outside.

"Well, Kingslayer?" Bowen Marsh questioned. "We do not have all day to be standing around... or did you forget the words?"

I know the damn words, Jaime thought.

He took a deep breath, thinking of all that led to this point. 

Had there been a point where he could have been someone else? Was it when he stabbed Aerys in the back? Embraced his sister? Was there ever a time when he could have been like a Ser Arthur Dayne? The more he thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed.

He silently cursed himself, kneeling down before the Gods.

So... this is my fate.

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children."

As Jaime began saying his vows, a few laughs came from the men watching him. He kept going.

"I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch..."

He paused, closing his eyes briefly.

"... for this night and all the nights to come."

And so, he rose as a man of the Night's Watch... taking his black cape and wearing it as he once wore his white one.

~

My bad for the late upload... there was a Lakers game yesterday at European-friendly time... so yeah.

Raiden's Storm Chapter 51: The Silver Dragon

Arianne was certainly dressed for the occasion in a not-so-modest dress that boasted her more alluring features. She held a bottle of wine and two cups, stepping forward with a smile. 

"I hope I did not disturb your rest, Your Grace."

"I won't lie and say you didn't," I remarked, glancing at the wine. "What's the occasion?"

"What is there for a princess to do all alone in a little cabin? I would have died from boredom."

"I'm afraid these cabins didn't come with amusing jesters." I shrugged. "They're for sleeping, mainly."

"I have no need for jesters..." Arianne said, placing her bottle and cups on the desk. Her distinct fragrance washed over me as she stood behind my chair. "Only you, Your Grace."

"Is that so?" I questioned, looking forward. "Lamentably, I do not feel the same way."

"And why would that be?" Arianne put her hands on my shoulders, lowering them slightly. "You seemed plenty interested before."

"Not all things are as they seem, Arianne."

"You're going to break my heart, Your Grace," Arianne spoke with a softer voice, massaging my shoulders. "You seem rather tense today. Perhaps a drink might ease you? I prepared a rich Dornish red for this very occasion. You haven't lived until you tried it..."

"I've chosen to stay away from wine," I replied, shaking my head. "Not much good comes out of it, in the end."

"Like your night with the rose of Highgarden?"

"Mhm..." I nodded. "Just like that night."

"Indeed, I would see it as a mistake as well. Reach girls are hardly anything impressive." Arianne chuckled. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I can't recall."

"Hah... she was so immemorable that you can't even say if she was any good. Isn't that quite telling?"

I shrugged.

"You see..." Arianne leaned in closer to my ear. "If you had come to me instead, you would have remembered... and come for more the next night, and the one after that."

"You think so?" I raised an eyebrow.

"We could put it to the test, Your Grace... here and now."

Before I knew it, she had one ascending hand on my thigh and had already planted a kiss on the side of my face. I grabbed her hand, moving it away, before standing up to face her. Her mouth opened slightly in surprise.

"Must I say it more plainly?" 

"Why do you hesitate?" She questioned, raising her other hand to touch the side of my face. "Do you wish to feed others the idea that you are dutiful and honourable? Or convince yourself that you are someone else?"

"You don't know me." I frowned slightly, grabbing her other hand by the wrist and removing it from my face. "Don't pretend that you do."

"Oh, do I like the look in your eyes." She observed, smiling. "Are they... purple?"

"Purple?" I chuckled, letting go of her hands. "Don't change the subject."

"One night of pleasure never hurt anyone, Your Grace. That is all I ask. After that, we can both walk away as if nothing had ever happened. It would be our little secret."

"You are a persistent woman," I remarked, shaking my head. "Alas, I'm not interested in being unfaithful for a second time. You should set your sights on something else."

"Another man..." She scoffed. "There is only one Edric Baratheon."

"Unfortunately for you, he can't be the fling you seek."

"Oh, I don't believe so." Arianne shook her head slowly. "When you realise that duty has left you bleeding in a dull world of your creation... you will turn to me, and I will open your eyes to happiness you never knew before."

"If I were not pleased with my life, a night with you would not change a thing. I seek something more permanent. Something with meaning." I shook my head. "And you can't give me that even if you tried your damnedest."

"How could you be so sure without trying?"

"Because I know precisely what I want in this life... and a long list of women I slept with is not one of them."

"Then what is it that you seek?" She raised an eyebrow.

"You would not understand."

"..." Arianne chuckled. "I will not overstay my welcome, in that case."

I watched her take the wine and cups, leaving my cabin.

"Only for you would I be quite so patient."

I heard her say as she left.

"You knew of me before?" Raiden questioned.

"... Later."

"And when would later be?"

"When I wish it."

I replied, going off to sleep.

~

11th Moon of 299 AC, King's Landing.

It didn't take many days to return to King's Landing from Storm's End, with my Storm Magic giving the small fleet a favourable wind. King's Landing was buzzing, crowded inns full to the brink, people scurrying around for accommodations at extortionate prices, and the brothels were no doubt raking in profit.

It all reminded me of the Hand's Tourney...

Before going to the Red Keep, I chose to take a detour around the city. It was one thing to hear reports from Small Council meetings but another to see the state of King's Landing personally. Though... wherever I went, everyone straightened up like I was the head teacher coming to inspect a classroom.

I decided to check up on one of Littlefinger's former brothels, which he had use for anymore. All of his establishments had been seized under the Iron Throne, and managers had been chosen to look after them. Though I wasn't particularly fond of them... they did generate quite a bit of money. Besides that, Littlefinger had placed competent people in charge which made the change in ownership rather simple.

Inside of the brothel, I saw a group of men wearing plate gilded in silver and shrouded in blue capes. They looked like knights... but I did not recognise any of them, nor the sigil they wore. A silver dragon on a blue field?

The Arryns called... they want their colours back.

"Get out of here, you scoundrel. You've wasted more than enough gold."

The person at the head of the group was quite tall and slender with a feminine voice. I couldn't see any features since she wore a full set of plate armour. 

She grabbed one of the clients by the ear and dragged him away. He looked to be of valyrian descent, with silver hair and dark blue eyes.

"It's my gold, though." The young man scratched his hair. "Besides, I'm so good at it I don't even have to pay."

"... The tourney will be starting soon. How do you expect to win anything in such a sorry state?" She countered.

"You worry too much, my lady. I'll win it all just for you."

"Are we disturbing anything?" I questioned, stepping forward.

"That's the King, ain't he?" One of the guards remarked.

"No, it's nothing at all." The leader turned to me and didn't look all that startled. "We were just on our way."

"Might I ask... who are you lot? I've not seen that sigil anywhere before."

"It is not a sigil that you'd see in Westeros." The leader replied simply. "We came from Lys after hearing news of this grand tourney celebrating Lord Arryn's marriage. Naturally, we arrived to participate in the spectacle and witness it first-hand."

"From Lys, hm?" That certainly struck my curiosity. Was this some high-ranking noble? No doubt, keeping company of that number of heavily-armoured men wasn't cheap. "Might I have your name?"

"Ask your Spider, and he will most certainly tell you."

"And why would I ask him when you're right here?" 

"I'd hate to bore you with all the details, Your Grace."

She walked past me with her company of men. I smiled slightly, glancing back. She had a strong presence... for a woman. That's one added question for Varys. 

After that, I chatted with the person overseeing the brothel to see how things were going. The girls wanted to have a go at me, but I kindly rejected them.

"We have a client you might be interested in seeing, Your Grace." The master of the establishment stroked his beard. "A little lion, to be precise. Ugly little thing... but he pays well."

Tyrion... here? Have the Lannisters already made their way back to court?

"One of my Lord Paramounts?" 

He nodded.

"Sure. Tell Lord Tyrion to cease his whoring for a short while and see me."

Before long, I watched Tyrion stumble his way to me. His face was not something I could ever get used to, honestly. He made Brienne look like a goddess. 

"I never thought I'd see you in the same brothel as I, Your Grace." He made a humble bow. "It is a rather pleasant surprise though, to be sure."

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," I remarked. "You also forget your station, Lord Tyrion. I would expect more from you. You're sullying your House's name... and, by extension, my name as you are one of my Lord Paramounts."

"Is it a crime for a lord to visit a brothel now?" He replied, smiling slightly. "Your Grace, you sound almost like my father."

"..." I chuckled - maybe I did. "My point still stands. You should dedicate more time to finding a wife rather than wasting it here."

"I've never heard a man complain so much for profiting from me." Tyrion remarked. "You do own this establishment, don't you?"

"Indeed."

"I suppose Littlefinger had no need of it dead." Tyrion looked at me, his stare a tiny bit unsettling - in an ugly way. "If you wish me to be wed, perhaps you should find me a suitable bride as you did for Lord Arryn. I have no doubt there is a long line of maidens from great houses just waiting to lay with the Imp of Lannister."

For a moment, the absurd idea of binding Tyrion to Arianne came to mind... which made me laugh.

"You seem to understand." Tyrion cracked a slight smile. "I am not the most charming of prospects."

"Are you telling me that you don't have any offers? A Lord Paramount?" I questioned. "I refuse to believe that."

"I have some... but only from minor houses."

"Does pride matter so much to you?"

"... Not particularly, no." Tyrion shook his head. "I simply wondered if you had better matches in mind, being my liege King."

"I'll think about it." I nodded. "Anyway... I've spent long enough in this brothel. I shall see you next in the great hall."

Honestly, trying to think of a good match for Tyrion was a lot harder than it sounded on paper. His appearance and reputation made him a very hard sell... despite his Lord Paramount status. A daughter of a great house was definitely out of the picture, probably even a major house...

He was better off just marrying for love - which is probably something he might not even be able to find. The women around him would only be in it for the wealth and power.

I didn't envy his position in the slightest.

My next stop was one of the City Watch barracks, where the gold cloaks were training harder than some soldiers would. Dorian had instilled discipline deep into the blood of these men... and loyalty along with that. Due to the added traffic from the tourney, they would no doubt have to work harder than usual.

"Your Grace." Harry, the Lord Commander of the City Watch, solemnly bowed alongside the rest of the gold cloaks. "Welcome back to King's Landing."

"I trust it's not gotten too chaotic?" I smiled slightly.

"No, the men have picked up the slack. We've just had to decrease the number of hours spent training to compensate," Harry replied. "Also, we had an extensive search for any criminals before the guests arrived."

"I see that the streets of King's Landing are in good hands, then." I nodded.

"I am no Dorian Daggerhand, of course... but I seek to continue the path that he paved. He left the Gold Cloaks in a strong position, and I won't allow it to slip again... not while I bear the title of Lord Commander."

"Good man." I pat his shoulder. "Though, your actions will speak far louder than mere words."

"I will act as I speak, Your Grace. I am a man of my word."

"I like you." I smiled, nodding. "Well, I won't keep you from your duties."

I didn't linger around for much longer, deciding to make my way to the Red Keep at last. The great doors were open before I knew it, and the great hall came into view. It had never looked quite as crowded as it did now. It seemed as if a majority of the Realm's houses were present in some form or another. Lords, heirs, ladies, sons, knights...

Indeed, practically the entire Vale court had arrived. There were also representatives for houses from the Riverlands, Crownlands (this one goes without saying), Stormlands, Reach, Dorne, Iron Islands, the North and even the Westerlands. All nine regions...

I had a strong feeling that this tourney would be an even greater spectacle than the Hand's Tourney had been...

Little announcement

I added a scene to chapter 46 of Raiden's Storm, which may be a little important (it's 700 words or so, which is about 30-35% of a normal chapter). I should be able to update tomorrow and Sunday as well so that's some good news on top of that.

Raiden's Storm Chapter 50: Fragment Of The Past

I stood in my cabin, twirling my warhammer in the air continuously. The dip in the effectiveness of my magic had been rather noticeable. In Storm’s End, I truly was at my strongest. Not only was Storm Magic more effortless and overall more effective there, but I also recovered faster. This was no doubt due to the natural weather conditions…

Generating enough wind in the cabin to lift the Warhammer and then move it in my desired direction was much more difficult than it sounded. That hammer was a heavy boy, far heavier than a volley of arrows, and required a certain level of focus to upkeep.

Also… my proficiency with wind was a bit lacklustre compared to lighting especially when it came to precise movements. Each second the Warhammer spun in the air was more straining than the last.

Whoosh.

Eventually, my focus broke for an instant, and my warhammer broke loose. I quickly grabbed the spinning Warhammer before it smashed against the ground. As I did so, I felt my arm yank down and stretch. A weaker person probably would've torn something trying that.

“Phew…” I took a deep breath and let go of the Warhammer, placing it against my desk. ‘Definitely didn't almost sink the ship.’

Well, it probably wouldn't have devastated the floor to that degree, but having a sizable dent in my cabin would not have been ideal, either. I left the warhammer for the day and played around with my dagger instead. 

Eventually, I should be able to twirl multiple weapons like that one Sith lord… I forgot her name. Darth Krayt? Nah, that's not it. Fuck knows. Instead of lightsabers, I could have valyrian steel edges. Or maybe I could use the Warhammer like Thor… perhaps a bit of both at once. Storm Magic is quite versatile…

My thoughts ceased as I focused on my magic exercise.

The constant spinning of the dagger was hypnotising in a way, reminding me of memories I had otherwise repressed. Always moving, the same motion over and over again… with little purpose behind it. It reminded me… of me.

Stack… stack… stack.

It was endless. 

…

I saw myself putting in work with one of the deadest expressions I had seen yet. My blue eyes looked so dark and lifeless they might as well have been black. There was no smile, for I had absolutely nothing to smile about.

Why was I here again? Was I dreaming?

I watched my old self waddle along, strained and tired. As I looked to the side, I noticed Raiden Shogun watching alongside me. My mouth opened slightly. 

"Raiden?" I questioned, tilting my head slightly.

"It seems that my bond to you brought me here." She said, looking around. "What is this strange place?"

"My old workplace," I observed the towers of baskets that I had stacked for customer orders. The grey, unamusing workhouse which housed most of my unpleasant memories. "Best place on Earth."

I could feel the pain all over again. Back, neck, legs, feet... surprisingly enough, however, my arms rarely ever hurt. I suppose they were made to carry heavy things even then. 

It wasn't exactly interesting... but Raiden Shogun looked intrigued enough. She floated around, watching the manager chat away while everyone else got on with their day. The pickers went along into the store with their trollies stacked with ten empty baskets each while I was the sole loader putting all their returning filled baskets in place. From ambient items such as water, tomatoes, microwaves, bread... then the chiller to deal with chilled items such as meat and then frozen, of course.

All me... back and forth, back and forth. Soaking wet with sweat, to cool, to freezing and back to hot.

It wasn't like that at the beginning. Once, there used to be four, then three, then two, until some days, it was just me. Why pay four people to do the same job when one was adequate enough? It was only logical for a businessman looking from above.

Alas, I don't think my old body agreed with that.

Even so... I had the agency of a dead goldfish. I let the stream of life take me wherever. I just worked and slept, worked and slept.

"Is this how it was for you?" She questioned.

"Yeah..." I nodded. "I couldn't tell you the number of times I thought about taking my studies further and eventually leaving. Yet, no matter how angry and frustrated I was, I didn't do a thing about it."

"Arthur, you're taking the piss, mate." The manager walked up to me, looking around. "You're so slow today. Look around... I have no trollies. I need you to fill them up and label them. There's also a click-and-collect customer waiting outside."

I saw a flash of anger cross my eyes before I lowered my head and sped up, breaking my steady rhythm. I was stacking like a demon... whether the basket had one random can of beans or 6x2l water bottles.

Thomp. Thomp. Thomp.

"People loved ordering as much water as they feasibly could," I remarked, chuckling. "It was cheap... but they acted like tap water and filters didn't exist."

"What is tap water?"

"... Well, it's kinda like free water that you can access in pretty much any house. In some places, it's unclean, but in other places, it's plenty drinkable."

"I see... the world of your first life is quite different."

"Quite different is an understatement," I remarked.

After my old self managed to catch up with the ambient, he had plenty of frozen and chilled trollies waiting for him outside. Though, he first went to deal with the customer. He took his order number and went back in, getting his stuff ready.

"That's a big order." The manager remarked. "And the guy... he looks suspicious. It could be fraud; ask for his I.D."

I seemed to shrug, probably not thinking much of it. I hated asking for IDs... confronting people wasn't exactly my strong suit. I'd much rather just get along with my day back then.

I took his stuff outside and didn't even bother asking for I.D... acting like I forgot.

"You forgot to ask for indentification," Raiden said, raising an eyebrow. "Quite an oversight on your part."

"Just keep observing..." I shrugged. 

"Did you ask for the I.D?" The manager asked as I returned. 

"... No." I said the truth, even though it would've been pretty easy to lie. 

"Go and ask for it, then. Christ, Arthur... it's not that hard."

I turned right back around and went to ask for his ID. Of course, he had it, but he didn't look too happy about the request.

"It's because I'm black, isn't it?" He questioned, shaking his head.

As if...

"No... my manager asked to ask for I.D, I-"

"Bullying the vulnerable." The hooded man frowned at me like I was suddenly wearing a KKK cosplay. "What comes around goes around..."

"It wasn't even me." I blinked.

"I know, I know, it's alright..." He turned away, packing his stuff into bags quickly. "If I was white though, it would be different, wouldn't it?"

"..." Old me didn't answer his question... slipping away. 

He sighed, going back inside. 

Conveniently enough, another customer would come - a white lady. I served her just the same, and the manager made no mention of I.D. It was a pretty small order... so I just did my job. The dark-skinned lad wasn't quite gone yet, watching the whole thing.

"So you didn't ask her for I.D?"

"..." No words came to mind back then.

"Fucking racists..." The man shook his head. "I see how it is."

Issues were quite frequently pushed onto me, given that I was the representative for the customers outside. Whether it's UberEats, JustEat, or Gofer drivers, everything falls on me. Something was late? I had to apologise. The manager made a mistake, forgetting to have an order picked? Me, again. I'd have to ask them to wait patiently...

"I've been waiting for thirty minutes!" One foreign UberEats driver shouted, banging on the door.

I had to go out and talk to him.

"You could cancel the order," I spoke softly, looking like I hardly gave a shit... which was very true. I just wanted to go home at that point.

"You said five minutes, but I've been waiting for thirty. Why is it taking so long?"

"... The pickers are a bit slow today," I replied. "It should be ready by now..."

"This place is fucking shet man." The foreign UberEats driver shook his head.

I couldn't agree more, my nameless illegal immigrant friend. It's fackin shet mate.

"Arthur... I need you to load three vans quickly!"

"Arthur, I need you to pick chilled for me."

"Arthur, I need you to consolidate these items."

"Arthur, I need you to work overtime."

Arthur this, Arthur that, Arthur, please feed my goldfish, fuck my wife really good and drive seven vans at once (he didn't say the last three, but he may as well have)... even I got irritated, and I was just watching this time around.

Eventually, I had done everything... at the cost of looking like a zombie. Meanwhile, the drivers got to complain about having to deliver too much while conveniently ignoring who had to stack every one of their loads. It was a strange phenomenon where they worked the easiest part of the job, yet still complained about it being too hard...

I guess people just like to complain in the end.

The person who should have been complaining most of all hadn't uttered a single word... clocking out and going home.

To me now, it looked more like modern slavery than ever before...

And I was a most excellent slave.

"How much did they pay you for that day? It must have been quite the sum."

"Ahaha..." I chuckled at Raiden's statement. "Yeah, about that... they pay as little as they can get away with. Everyone gets the same wage at this workplace."

"The very same wage?" 

"Except the managers, of course. They get the pay and the credit for looking like they're working." I shrugged. "That's just how it is."

"... No wonder you hardly spoke of it."

"All you'd hear is me complaining," I said, shaking my head. "I would much rather leave these memories locked away somewhere and forgotten."

"They are still a part of you... as my days as Shogun are."

Raiden was very curious about London, more than I ever had been. When the dream led us to my apartment, she got to see my messy room which was littered with NBA memorabilia from jerseys to trading cards to posters. Almost everything was coloured in purple and gold. Besides that, you could see something about each Lakers legend throughout history... mainly Kobe Bryant.

'Strive for Greatness. Success isn't owed. It's leased... and the rent is due every day.'

'Mamba Mentality. It's a constant quest to be better today than you were yesterday and better tomorrow than you were the day before.'

'I don't want to be the next Michael Jordan... I only want to be Kobe Bryant.'

'There's winning, and there's losing, and in life, you have to know that both will happen. But what's never been acceptable to me is quitting.'

It... was a bit embarrassing. Okay, maybe more than a bit. I didn't even want to ask Raiden what she thought about it.

There were also many history books, comics, anime, games and the like occupying one side of the apartment. Tons of figurines, too, and all of them were 'badass' male ones. I didn't want to delve into that other side. I wasn't that far gone, lonely as I was.

"These are your heroes?" She questioned.

"Yeah... in a way. I looked up to them." I admitted, slowly nodding. These were my roots - I shouldn't be too embarrassed of them. "I wanted to be like them... but my body liked to remind me that it was impossible. I was too short, too weak, too slow, too fragile. I had no talent on top of that."

"And that is why you relish your current strength so greatly..." Raiden remarked. "You can reach the goals that once were no more than a dream before."

I nodded. "In this life, I have no excuses."

Past me went straight for a shower, then a nap...

Raiden explored further, finding my 'WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE: Westbrick of Russel' poster. I put his price at a modest £999,999,999 and the face on the poster... well, it was littered with darts.

"Who is this? Your nemesis?" Raiden Shogun questioned, observing the poster.

"Ah..." I chuckled. "You could say that."

"Westbrick of Russell..."

After the nap, old me managed to have enough energy to boot up the PC. It was one of those days when I wanted to do something with the little time I had. As I entered my password and the screen moved to my desktop, an image of Raiden Shogun popped up.

"...?" Raiden looked puzzled, seeing herself. 

Old me went a step further, booting up Genshin Impact. How wonderful...

However, before he went past the main menu... the dream shattered.

...

Knock. Knock.

A semi-loud banging sound woke me.

Apparently, I had fallen to my desk for a nice nap. I yawned, shaking my head. The dagger hadn't cut me in my lapse... fortunately. 

"What is it?" I stretched my neck, glancing at the door.

"Princess Arianne wishes to see you, Your Grace." I heard Arthur's voice. "Should I let her in?"

"What was that about?" Raiden questioned, no doubt thinking about her being my desktop image. "You knew of me... before?"

'Later,' I mouthed. There was never an ideal time to tell Raiden she was a game character. There was just no use in speaking of it. What would she gain other than a potential existential crisis? Maybe it would explain my initial fondness.

Even so, she's very real now... so perhaps it wouldn't matter as much as I thought.

I sheathed my dagger, standing up. This was undoubtedly another attempt (a growing list, might I add) to get me to sleep with her. Alas, I could also turn it into an opportunity to put my foot down and put an end to her little ambition of seducing me. 

Though... I don't want to treat Arianne too harshly. She is the heir to Dorne, after all. I have to find a way to get her to hop off my dick while not making her dislike me too strongly. 

"Your Grace... are you alright?" Arthur questioned, breaking the silence.

Well, I didn't train my Charisma for nothing. It's meant for these things.

"... Sure, I'll entertain the Princess."

Barbarian's Path To Multiversal Domination Chapter 8: Two Thousand Years A Borgia Flag Slave

Grace unplugged Elizabeth's headphones and took them off.

"What are you doing?" She questioned, annoyed.

"It's been a while since we spent some time together." Grace smiled, teleporting a chair and sitting on it. "Go on, I'll just watch you."

"... How did you do that? The teleport thingy... and where is your boyfriend?"

"Eh, don't worry about it." She waved her hand. "He went to take a piss and, as for the chair... well, I got magic powers."

"Since when?"

"Not all that long ago, actually. I'll tell you about it."

...

"How many times did you complete this game, again?" Grace questioned.

"Six times."

"And you're playing it again?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Mhm. I'm trying to 100% all of the games in order."

"Pft." Grace chuckled. "You really have nothing to do."

"Shut up." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "This time, I will have a team of only female assassins."

"Oh wow, how progressive!" Grace said with clear sarcasm. "Are you making a harem for your Ezio?"

"Well... no." She shook her head, sounding embarrassed. "I just prefer the female models. Most of the guys are pretty ugly."

"Yeah, right."

Elizabeth was dragging Ezio across Roma, going from recruit marker to recruit marker. 90% of the time, they were men - to her dismay. The 10% of the time, they were women; she was too late to rescue them from the Borgia. 

Eventually, she saw Dennis' player model, who wore a common brown-purple attire. Everything looked normal... except the completely unique sword he held. He stood with seven guards on the floor, his blade wet with their blood.

"I've never seen that sword model before," Elizabeth muttered to herself. "And I don't have any mods..."

"You should at least recruit that one. You've been running around like a headless chicken looking for girl recruits." Grace remarked. "At this point, you'll take the entire day filling your roster."

"... Fine." 

Reluctantly, she recruited Dennis into the Brotherhood. Afterwards, the potential recruits seemed to flip in gender. Everywhere she looked, she found women recruits... rapidly expanding her team. Before long, she had a grand total of ten recruits.

"I guess I was just really unlucky earlier..." Elizabeth remarked, looking at the recruits menu. She took a closer look at the only man in the group, Dennis Mertvago. Since his avatar was bald, her next decision wasn't hard to make. "It's too bad."

She went into the contracts section and looked for the hardest one. The first five-star contract was in Venice: ' Intercept a message.' It didn't sound difficult, but starting level one recruits only had a 1% chance of completion. Dennis' NPC representative was no exception.

She sent Dennis on it alone, grinning slightly.

"You're evil," Grace laughed. "Are you really sending him to die to make room for some female recruit?"

"Nah, it's just high risk and high reward." Elizabeth joked. 

"Mhm." Grace chuckled. "As if you're losing anything of value."

While she continued to play as normal, Dennis was experiencing a whole new life...

...

After interacting with Ezio, Dennis found himself at the Tiber Island Hideout - surrounded by women. Before long, he was thrown into a lecture headed by Niccolo Machiavelli alongside the other assassin recruits. He began to yap about the Creed's beliefs and whatnot. After that, he got the basic assassin uniform and a hidden blade. 

Before he began his first mission, however, he was thrown into virtual training made specifically for him.

"What the fuck is this?" Dennis looked around, seeing a white blocky world with red arrows pointing forward.

He noticed a timer ticking on top of him.

[Complete Short Course 1 in under 35 seconds to pass.]

Since there was nothing else to do, he began running forward. The first thing he noticed was that he was physically weaker—normal, even. This was part of the test, of course.

Once he ran a couple of metres, he was directed to drop down onto the white ground. Then he continued running forward, stopped by a wall with three red beams erected out of it. The red arrows pointed diagonally to his right - where a raised structure stood.

He would have to parkour his way there.

Dennis jumped, manging to get up on top of one of the beams. However, he almost lost balance and fell all the way back down.

"Never did this shit before..." He cursed out loud. 

He managed to jump to the next one, using his reach to grab hold of it and raise himself up. Then he jumped onto the inside of the structure and continued forward.

His next challenge would be presented by a wall pointing upwards and backwards, where beams floated in the air and led to the top of the structure he came out of.

He tried leaping up onto the beams directly... but found that his leap was too short no matter the technique he used.

"I could reach that shit if I didn't have this body..." He frowned, looking back at the wall. "Grace, I said I wanted a fight, not to be forced into a parkour lesson..."

Grace wouldn't hear his complaint, however. Time was ticking...

Thirty-five seconds was up, and he was reset to the beginning.

"Blyat..."

Hours... days... weeks... would pass as Dennis began mastering freerunning through the Animus' virtual training. With each challenge he completed, he got a new one, which was harder than the last. By the end of it all, he would give any master Assassin a run for their money.

Despite his initial frustration, he grew to quite enjoy climbing over obstacles and took pride in his new skill.

However... that was only the beginning. The simulation changed, now with five guards scattered around a semi-compact area. Some stood on raised platforms while others were on the ground.

[Moving onto stealth assassination. Kill all five targets in under thirty seconds without being detected.]

He checked his weaponry... only a hidden blade.

The first thing he did was run behind his first victim - only for him to turn around instantly and detect him. Before he knew it, the simulation reset.

'Guess they're not wearing earphones.' Dennis chuckled, shaking his head. 'But I don't have much time to play around with either...'

Using his new parkour skills, Dennis began to tackle this new challenge - improving with each attempt. He learned when to run and when to slow down. He also learned to use the ranged weaponry his victims provided - the crossbow. At first, he couldn't hit shit, but he became more accurate as he continued to use it.

Before long, he finished the first challenge and moved on to the next... and the next... and the next. His final challenge was a simulation of a colossal castle armed to the teeth with five hundred guards. He'd have to kill them all without being detected or leaving any traces of his killing. On top of that, he had a relatively short-timer.

"This'll be fun..."

He went from building to building, wall to wall, methodically slaughtering his opposition and stacking them in haystacks and other hiding places. Of course, he had failed this task thousands of times...

It was hardly possible, intentionally pushing him to the brink. Any normal person would've lost their mind in the white Animus space, but Dennis was already far beyond insane. Each loss pushed him to try harder and be better.

Eventually, like all obstacles... Dennis leapt over it.

He was one millisecond off of failing, completing every killing almost perfectly.

"Alright... what's next?" Dennis grinned, looking around.

[Collect 10,000 Borgia Flags in under 1000 minutes.]

"..." Dennis' mouth slowly opened as he looked over a vast simulation of a city littered with glowing flags. They were mainly on the roofs but some were scattered on the ground and others in underground passages.

"Blyat..."

Generally speaking, it didn't sound too difficult. It was exactly ten flags per minute. However, given that they were scattered everywhere and he had to actively find all of them... yeah. While Dennis could relish assassination due to its killing aspect and parkour due to the exhilaration of practically flying across his obstacles- this part of the simulation made him bash his head into a wall. 

Many, many times, for that matter.

Each time, the city and flag locations were randomly generated. Even when he had no chance of succeeding, he had to wait out the 1000-minute timer in every attempt.

He had failed over a million times, living in the simulation for approximately two thousand years. During that time, he had most definitely lost it.

"Borgia flags... Borgia flags..." He laughed madly. "Borgia flags... I must have them all!"

After his tribulations, he had developed a sixth sense for Borgia Flags - being able to smell and taste them from miles away. Hell, he could even hear them glimmer and see them through walls. His abilities in tracking down Borgia Flags had reached a frightening, almost divine, level. Even speedrunners would quiver before his prowess.

And... at long last... his efforts would be rewarded as he moved onto the next phase.

[Final challenge. Use your hidden blade to kill a thousand opponents without being hit once in under sixty minutes.]

"I can kill?" 

Dennis' eyes widened, and his mouth salivated at the thought. Before he knew it, he was surrounded by a dozen Borgia guards in a circular arena. The elation he felt... there were no words to describe it. He alone could understand it. 

"I CAN KILL!!!"

He flicked his wrist and got straight to killing... 

Except he got hit in the first seconds and reset.

The thing is, his fighting style heavily relied on his masochism. He would hardly ever avoid damage, even when he was capable of 'dancing' because of his boxing training. Alas, he had no such luxuries here. He couldn't proceed without perfecting the hidden blade, dodging and countering.

However, unlike the previous challenges... this one was based solely on combat. He didn't have to run about, be sneaky or chase flags. He just had to fight in a certain way.

Fighting... well, that was just his thing.

In a singular day, he locked in and completed the test with flying colours. 

[Virtual training complete... you may begin your mission.]

...

Dennis was thrown out of the Tiber Island Hideout with his new mission. He looked at the scroll, reading it carefully.

"The Templars will soon send their instructions to their men. Find the courier, steal the message and bring it to us..."

Dennis closed the scroll, tightened the lace on his boots and started running. He crossed one of Tiber Island's bridge and kept going. He went outside Rome's border... and continued sprinting north. With his Coast to Coast Epithet, he replicated his marathon to King's Landing... only he was far more efficient and faster this time.

He even outran speeding horses, almost looking like Renaissance Italy's very own Sonic.

In just under a week, he made it to Venice after taking a ship on the last leg of his journey. From the moment he stepped foot onto the city, he used his assassin instincts and scouted every nook and cranny from atop high vantage points. As he focused, he found the exact courier thanks to his Hyper-Advanced Eagle Vision, which branched out from his Borgia-Flag-Finding Sixth Sense.

"Found you..." 

He took a Leap of Faith into a haystack and got to work, stalking the courier like a predator would hunt its prey. His patience had developed to a frightening level, making Dennis a most terrifying assassin. Before, he would have no doubt charged head first at the courier (if he even found him), but now...

He watched from a rooftop as the courier entered an empty alleyway... this was the perfect opportunity.

He leapt down onto the courier and slashed through his throat with his hidden blade instantaneously. He took the courier's message, tossed his body into a haystack and began returning to Tiber Island.

...

[INTERCEPT A MESSAGE mission was successful]

[DENNIS MERTVAGO is now a MAESTRO.]

"Did he just..." Elizabeth couldn't believe what she was seeing. "1% chance, really?"

"I guess you got really lucky," Grace chuckled, acting clueless. "What will you do about him now?"

"I might just have to keep him around to help level the rest..." Elizabeth admitted.

"Now it's Dennis' harem." She laughed.

"... Dennis'?" Elizabeth questioned, suddenly recalling that Grace had introduced her boyfriend with that very same name. She hadn't thought much of it before, but now... "It's been at least twenty minutes. There's no way he's still in the bathroom."

"... Uhuh." Grace stroked her chin. "Maybe he's jerking off?"

"Hmm..." 

Elizabeth's suspicions rose. Did her sister's powers stop at just teleporting inanimate objects?

[Borgia Flags removed 15/100]

[Borgia Flags removed 16/100]

[Borgia Flags removed 17/100]

Suddenly, the side of her screen was flashing with notifications.

'But I'm not collecting any of them... is this a bug?' Elizabeth's eyes widened as she saw the Borgia Flags on the map disappear one after the other. "What the hell..."

"Someone is collecting your Borgia Flags..." Grace chuckled.

...

After returning to the hideout, Dennis got fresh new plate armour on top of his robe, a pistol within his gauntlet, smoke bombs, more knife pouches and a massive axe. He practically went from a lvl 1 goon to a lvl 100 mafia boss in an instant... thanks to his Maestro promotion. 

"Congratulations on your mission's success, maestro. That message was crucial, and now we take one step closer to overthrowing the Borgia." Niccolo Machiavelli pat his shoulder. "It was a hopeless chase, this mission... but you succeeded without a single witness and in haste. Very impressive."

"Borgia Flags..." Dennis touched his head, feeling a strong impulse. "Borgia Flags..."

"... Borgia Flags?" Niccolo looked puzzled. "Are you alright?"

The female recruits raised an eyebrow as Dennis stormed out with maddened eyes.

"MY BORGIA FLAGS!"

He went outside and leapt from building to building like a demon, chasing the scent of Borgia Flags. The Borgia rooftop guards only saw a flash of white as he flowed from obstacle to obstacle like a rushing tide. His collection of flags led him all the way to the ruins of the Colosseum, the historical and still grand structure that it was.

It was only at the sight of this monument that he paused his pursuit of Borgia Flags... standing still.

He slowly stepped towards its entrance, which was guarded by a squad of Borgia guards.

Dennis drew four knives and killed them all in an instant- continuing at his own pace - taking in every inch of the world's largest amphitheatre.

Eventually, he leapt down to the bottom of the Colosseum. 

Once, thousands of different gladiators and animals had fought on these very grounds. Even though it was simulated through a game... the atmosphere before him seemed very much real. He was in complete awe, standing still as a statue.

This... was his paradise.

The place he would dream of time and time again. Where he felt he truly belonged.

A place where real warriors fought; balancing life and death.

His admiration was cut short as he vanished - thrown into his next mission.

"Slyuha..."

Dennis cursed.

Barbarian's Path To Multiversal Domination Chapter 7: Family

Grace dragged Dennis along to a vast shopping centre, using him to carry her mountain of purchases. By the end, he was pulling ten bags full of clothes, perfumes, jewellery and even food. She hummed peacefully, striding along as if she didn't have a worry in the world. Meanwhile, Dennis' patience was running low. He had spent hours standing around in that god-forsaken mall...

"Grace, how much more shit do you want to buy?" Dennis raised an eyebrow. 

"Aww, is it too heavy for you?" Grace glanced back.

"The opposite. If your shopping was heavy, I could at least train with it."

"Just a few more stops..." 

She went inside a lingerie shop and started looking for more dresses. She couldn't decide between green or black, looking at Dennis, who was doing pushups on the ground. The people around momentarily glanced at him like a strange zoo animal on the loose before turning back to their shopping. His white tank-top really made his monstrous physique pop out, keeping some of the ladies' looks. 

"Which one do you think would look better on me?" Grace questioned, presenting both sets of lingerie to him.

"They both look good." Dennis didn't even look up and switched to one-armed pushups. 

"... But which is better?"

"The red one," Dennis replied.

"..." Grace chuckled. "I'm not holding a red one."

"The red one." He doubled down.

"... Fine, I'll get a red one."

In a few minutes, Grace swept up the store of all the red outfits her size. Afterwards, she had to join a long queue of well over thirty people while only one person worked as a cashier. Safe to say... she would have to wiat a long time.

After Dennis finished his warm-up, he went to look for Grace and observed the situation.

"Why the fuck is only one person working today?" He questioned.

No one looked at him, looking off into opposite directions or scrolling through their phones. The cashier's heart rate increased ever so slightly. Three minutes later, his patience was running on its last threads.

"Why the fuck are we waiting in line?" Dennis looked at Grace.

"It's the normal thing to do, dummy. It's not Westeros where you can draw Blackfyre and murder everyone who you don't like..." Grace spoke with a whisper. Observing his expression, she chuckled. "I mean... you couuuld. Though, it's a lot more dangerous. It's just a line."

"I killed fucking kings." Dennis chuckled, his eyes glowing a maddened gold. "I made a dragon get tired of breathing fire on me. I killed armies of men... and now you want me to camp here for a few dresses?"

"Have some patience, big guy-"

"Fuck that."

He walked ahead, grabbed a bag, put Grace's clothes inside and walked to the exit. The singular security guard looked at Dennis as the detector was sent off and blinked red. He wasn't taking that fight; that kind of confrontation was way above his pay grade (damn near minimum wage).

"Have a good day." Dennis smiled, waving to him as he left.

"You too." The security guard muttered the first thing that came to mind.

"Alright, Grace. Let's go home..."

"But there's another store I wanted to go to." Grace pouted.

"You can go in your own time." Dennis shrugged. "I was about to strangle everyone in that line... I was this fucking close."

"It's a good thing you didn't," Grace chuckled, grabbing his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. "I wouldn't want my wonderful boyfriend to get thrown into jail over something so stupid."

"Hm..." Dennis looked thoughtful for a moment. "Sometimes, I feel like I don't belong here anymore. Everything in this world pisses me off. Waiting in lines, having to pay for things, not being able to kill whoever... I have to act like someone else every fucking second, or else the entire world will fall down on me."

"This world is weak in the grand scheme of things," Grace remarked, smiling reassuringly. "It will not be long until you can turn it upside down if you wish. Just be a little patient, hm?"

"I'm not normal anymore." Dennis looked down, watching his hands, which flashed with blood. He thought of everyone he had slaughtered... and how he relished it. "Since that first battle, I could never go back to being some business student, boxer or anything pointless like that. I'm a warrior. The only place I belong is on a battlefield."

"No, that isn't the only place you belong." Grace grabbed his hands, placing hers on top of his and grasping them tightly. Her sparkling emerald eyes looked into his. "You belong with me, Dennis. I chose you as my sword and shield - Home is wherever we are together; it doesn't matter what world it is."

"What do you mean that you chose me?"

"Isn't it a great coincidence that we both have complementary powers? When I became Queen and gained all of my abilities, I could choose a champion—and I chose you." Grace smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "I have no idea what greater being thought that it would be a brilliant idea, but here we are... Warrior and Queen."

"So that's how it is..." Dennis said, not giving it much thought. He was glad that she had chosen him. If she hadn't, he'd still be living that same dull old life. "So I get the muscles and you get to choose where to drop me in?"

"-And I'm the loving voice of reason, of course." Grace chuckled. "Could you imagine our relationship if I weren't so affectionate? It would be over before it began... actually, it wouldn't begin in the first place. You're a terribly difficult catch. Also, your diplomatic capabilities are laughably awful."

"Mhm.." Dennis smiled, raising one handful of bags. "So... what's the big occasion for all this shit?"

"I'm planning to have you meet my parents."

"You're what?" 

~

There Dennis sat, at the decently large dinner table of fancy folk beside Grace. This was the one super rare occasion he genuinely looked what modern people would describe as ‘smart’. He wore a dashing three piece dark grey suit, with black pants to match. His tie was knotted perfectly and his hair was brushed neatly. If it were not for his bulging physique, one might easily mistake him for a softer man.

William, Grace’s father couldn't quite stop taking glances at Dennis - observing every second he breathed with critique. As for her mother, she was a bit more approving. Grace was the middle sister of three, being two years removed from the oldest and five years older than the youngest. 

“So, Dennis… what do you do for a living?” William questioned, staring daggers at him. “Or do you go to school still? You're nineteen, after all.”

“Nah, I don't go to college anymore. It's just not for me.”

“So what do you do?”

“Boxing.” Dennis replied simply. “I'm a fighter.”

“How much do you make per year… boxing?”

“My coach buys me chicken and chips from time to time. Other than that, nah. I don't make a penny. I'm still an amateur.”

William’s face twisted continuously for several seconds before he broke out a laugh. Dennis’ blunt, nonchalant, way of speaking definitely conflicted with William’s stern personality. “So if my daughter wasn't keeping you afloat, you'd be nothing more than a homeless man with boxing gloves?”

“I live with my family… so I'd still have a home.”

“Grace…” William turned to his daughter. “Really? This is the kind of man you want? Bloody hell, he's still living with his parents. He wouldn't survive a month on his own.”

“This is why I can't be asked to come back here.” Grace rolled her eyes. “I don't care about money. I have plenty enough of it.”

“Not just money, no. That glorified hooligan has no class either. Look at how he eats and drinks-”

Dennis grabbed a turkey leg and snapped it off, munching on the meat loudly as if to prove his point intentionally.

“He's practically an animal.”

“Dear, I'm sure Grace has her reasons…” Justina, Grace’s mom countered.

“Grace definitely does. Look at her himbo boyfriend’s muscles. I bet he’s packing downstairs too…”

Camilla, Grace’s older sister added. She looked similar to Grace, only she wore her blonde hair on a ponytail and was noticeably less beautiful. She looked ordinary compared to her… but would no doubt stand out in a crowd.

“Don't be jealous, big sis.”

“What the fuck is a himbo?” Dennis raised an eyebrow, breaking his silence.

“A very intelligent, handsome young man. Mostly handsome.” Camilla chuckled, eyeing Dennis. “Very handsome…”

“I know you're a slut but there's no shot you're flirting with my man.” Grace raised an eyebrow. “Hop off.”

“Grace, Camilla…” William sighed, shaking his head. “Do you both act this way to stress me every waking hour of the day? Why can't you be normal women? The men you choose… they won't stay around. They might look attractive and make you feel good for a time, but they have no true quality. They'll leave you high and dry whenever they choose.”

“Not only that, but these lower class men are bringing you down to their level. I didn't work this hard for you both to end up miserable, wasted and used.”

Grace tugged on Dennis’ sleeve and whispered. “This is where you stand up for me, pookie bear.”

“You could shit talk me all day, Sir William… I couldn't care less.” Dennis returned William’s gaze. “But Grace? She's my woman, you dolboyob. I wouldn't leave her for anything in the world. So you can take the dick out of your ass and stop trying to make me look like someone I'm not. Or not… it doesn't matter. She’ll still call me daddy.”

“Oh, Dennis, not at the family table…” Grace acted embarrassed, blushing.

“Russian cunt.” William cursed, frowning. “Go back to your country. Fuck off to Ukraine and die in some ditch.”

“...” Dennis chuckled, trying to keep his madness in check. It was becoming supremely difficult.

“Get out of my house.”

“Dear…” Justina shook her head. “It's clear that they love each other. Perhaps you're mistaken-”

“Shut up!” 

William slammed the table before chugging on alcohol. Dennis glanced at Grace before her father began shouting at him.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

“Let's not do that…” Grace chuckled. “Dad, you're totally overreacting. Calm down. Dennis is a good guy-”

“At this point, you'll end up like Camilla. A fucking… whore!”

“Shut the fuck up, BLYAT!” 

Dennis slammed the table and smashed into it, snapping two of its legs from the sheer force. He removed his hand from the sizeable hole he had made, watching the food tilt over. As he slowly stood up, William felt the courage he once had fade away.

“Holy shit…” Camilla gasped. “Did he just breaks the table and throw it into the wall?”

Grace chuckled. ‘If only you knew.’

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Dennis grabbed the table with both hands and tossed it to the side, smashing it against the wall. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

He stepped up to William, towering over the chubby man. His left hand rose up, grasping his neck and lifting him up with hardly any effort. By now, William was scared shitless. His pants had darkened and gotten wet as a fresh stream of piss flowed out. 

“Answer me…” Dennis spoke, almost too calmly as his grip tightened.

Snap.

Dennis’ eyes widened as he realised that he had used too much strength. He let go, dropping William to the ground. He stepped back, watching his wife come to his side.

“Oh goodness, he's still breathing… call 999!”

Grace stood up from her seat, looking at Dennis. She took out her phone and called 999. After a quick and precise phone call, an ambulance was sent off and Grace took Dennis to her room.

“He's still your family…” He frowned, shaking his head. “I shouldn't have-”

“It's alright. He was being a dickhead and a half anyways.” Grace gave him a reassuring smile. “He might have to wear a neck brace for a while but maybe that'll teach him a valuable lesson.”

“You don't like your father?”

“Breaking news.” Grace chuckled. “He's a prick. All he ever wanted was a son but he got three daughters instead. That didn't stop him from turning this house into a military camp with a mountain of rules. I always wanted to slap him myself.”

“... I see.” Dennis nodded, sitting down on her bed. “My dad taught me what it means to be a man. Plumbing, driving, construction, fixing cars, fighting, butchering, chopping trees… I learned a lot of things from him.”

“Your dad sounds like a good man. Maybe I should've gone to your family dinner instead.”

“They're on vacation still.” Dennis smiled. “But after… sure. The only thing they might not like is you being English.”

“So I'm not the only one with a slightly racist household.”

“Everyone has their bias, I guess.” Dennis shrugged. “My parents always wanted me to get with a Russian girl but there aren't that many here.”

“What was the first animal you butchered?” Grace questioned with a curious and amused tone, changing the subject.

“This big, fat, pig called Anna.” Dennis chuckled. “She was delicious and had enough meat to last days.”

“Yeah, I bet you ate all day long.” Grace chuckled.

“You know… I get where your dad is coming from. I’d want a son too, if I ever had any kids.” Dennis remarked, thinking of the incident from before. “Daughters are too much trouble.”

“Yeah… except his whole lecture was for my big sister, not me. Nothing in the universe could ever separate me from you, Dennis. How could I be a slut with a grand body count of one?” Grace chuckled. “Ridiculous. I might be a bit horny-”

“A bit?” Dennis raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe more than a bit.” Grace sat down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. “What I meant to say is I might be a nympho… but I'm your nympho~”

“What the fuck is a nympho?” Dennis blinked. “Fancy word for whore or what?”

“Jesus, Dennis. Grab a dictionary someday and read through it.” Grace chuckled. “The definition is a woman with strong sexual desires. A whore is someone who gets paid to have sex - a prostitute. You don't have anything to pay me with.”

Grace laughed and Dennis did too, taking the joke well.

“Fair enough.” He smiled, looking around the room. “So, is your dad right about your older sister?”

“Yeah, she's a slut, alright. She has more kinks than fingers. I’m talking scissoring, BDSM, cucking her partners, gangbangs, roleplaying as a dog and recently she picked up the whole queen of spades thing. Got the tattoo and everything. I honestly wouldn't even be surprised if she moved to fucking dogs and horses.”

“Queen of spades?”

“Her crazy fetish for black guys.” Grace chuckled. “She probably has a hard on for that because it's exactly what my dad would hate.”

“She makes you look like an angel.” Dennis remarked. 

“What do you mean?” She pouted. “I've always been an angel~”

“Yeah right.” Dennis chuckled.

“What about your big sister?”

“She's like a tiger, just like my mom. I don't think she'll ever find a man because she scares them all away.”

“So she's like a girl version of you?” 

“Yeah, pretty much. My dad raised her like a man which is why she probably has more balls than most men.”

“Huh… she's your only sibling, right?”

“Yeah, my mom struggled getting me out so she didn't want to risk another kid. I always wanted a little brother, though.” Dennis shrugged. “Can't have everything in life.”

“I could always give you a son.”

Dennis looked at Grace, who didn't shy away from his gaze. A moment of silence washed over them.

“I don't know about being a dad.” Dennis shook his head, breaking the silence. “With my new power… I can barely control myself. I'd be terrible at it.”

“That's why I'm here, Dennis.” Grace raised her hand and gently touched the side of his face. Her touch was smooth as silk. “You only need to have the desire… and I'll take care of everything.”

“... No. Not as I am now.” 

“That's fine.” Grace embraced him, an ocean of warmth calming the demon’s heart. “Your Madness Enhancement will only grow stronger and more possessing with time - until you come full circle and master it. Then you will have absurd strength… and an insane yet rational way of thinking.”

“Insane yet rational?”

“Yes… like frozen fire.”

“Hmm…

They ended up passionately snogging for a long while before Dennis pulled her down beneath him. 

“Let's get you out of that fancy suit, big guy.”

“And you out of that fancy red dress…”

Rip.

They proceeded to have a rigorous mating session, where Grace shamelessly screamed out for the entire house to hear. After several hours of dancing, they decided to take a break.

“Is it me… or are you stronger?” Dennis remarked, putting on his shirt and boxers.

“Was it your intention to break me in?” Grace smiled.

“I'm sure any ordinary girl would be in pieces by now.”

“I'm not an ordinary girl, though.” She placed a finger on his lip before kissing him. “Not at all…”

“Sounds like you want to go again.”

“I could never get tired of your wonderful member.”

“Hmph.” Dennis chuckled. “That's enough for one day. I've been wondering about your other sister.”

“You want a threesome with my little sister now?” Grace blinked, grinning seductively. 

“When did I ever say that?” Dennis tilted his head. “Just curious. Is she like Camilla too?”

“She is the real angel between the three of us.” Grace smiled. “My little sweetheart, I love her to bits… she's really the only reason I bother coming here.”

“Where is she, then?”

“Hiding away in her cave.” Grace sighed, shaking her head. “She's not exactly a social butterfly like me. That girl doesn't leave her room unless she absolutely has to. She also has some quirks, like she's huge on metal and rock music. Liz always dyes her hair black and everything in her room is pretty much black. She's basically a soft goth who's more than addicted to her PC.”

“A gamer, huh?”

“Yeah. She spends all of her spare time on that stuff. If she didn't have school, I bet she wouldn't even leave her room.”

“Doesn't sound healthy to me.” Dennis shrugged. “Maybe we could take her for a run.”

“... Good luck.” Grace chuckled. 

Dennis put his suit back on and went inside of Elizabeth’s room, which was everything he imagined. Messy, black and full of wires. She sat on a gaming chair with three monitors and a full PC setup. Every computer peripheral in the room was top class. She was living some people’s dream.

The only source of light was the white flash of her monitors as she played a game Dennis didn't recognize. He was a complete boomer to gaming… anything that wasn't related to fighting, really.

“She doesn't hear anything with those big headphones.” Grace chuckled, tapping her sister's shoulder.

She paused the game, turning around and taking off her headphones.

“What do you want?”

“Don't snap at me, Liz.” Grace smiled.

Elizabeth glanced to the side and saw Dennis. “Is that the guy who made you moan like a pornstar and shook the whole house?”

“... Yeah, that sums it up. He's Dennis, my boyfriend.”

“Good for you.” She put her headphones back on and turned around. “I'm busy. Come back later.”

“...” Grace glanced at Dennis who chuckled. “I have an idea. You've been itching for a fight, right? Also, something about wanting to learn how to fight properly..."

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“This game is perfect…”

She snapped her fingers, and Dennis vanished someplace else… appearing in Elizabeth’s game.

...

Dennis stood surrounded by standard Borgia guards, their simple swords pointed at him. There were seven of them. He realised the situation immediately and didn't say anything, drawing the sword at his side - the mighty Blackfyre. 

One of the guards attacked him, moving almost in slow motion. Dennis blocked the attack and headbutted the guard - dazing him. He then sliced his head right off. 

Another struck, and Dennis responded with a powerful block that sent the guard's sword flying several feet into the air. He slaughtered that one too. 

The guards continued to attack him one by one, as if they were lining up to die. Dennis dispatched all seven of them with ease, not even being hit once. After freeing himself from the sudden confrontation, he took the time to look around. 

He was in Renaissance Rome...

The game Elizabeth had been playing... he was inside of it.

He turned to the side, noticing a figure clad in black-red assassin armour running towards him. Before he knew it, he was stuck in an animation - kneeling before the figure. 

"Assassin!" Dennis found himself opening his mouth and a strange voice coming out. It wasn't his, for sure. 'What's the fuck is this...'

"The liberation of Roma has begun. If you choose to flee, do so now, but if you choose to fight, stand with me against the Borgia." Ezio Auditore offered his hand, and Dennis took it - still stuck in an animation. 

'Nah what is this bruddha waffling about...'

"I am tired of hiding in the shadows; I will join you," Dennis spoke out, though they still weren't his words.

"Then seek Niccolo Machiavelli on Isola Tiberina, and we will make you one of us. Their lies will no longer mask your truth."

And so, Dennis found himself becoming an Assassin of the Brotherhood...

However, instead of an insertion into a book... he was now a very peculiar glitch in Elizabeth's game.

Where will this path lead him?

Find out in the next chapter...

Raiden's Storm Chapter 49: Storm's End

The following night, Arthur was taking the night shift alongside Loras. It was a dull affair, as most nights were. No one was brave enough to storm Edric's bedchamber, especially with the Kingsguard around. Nor did anyone desire to, given his popularity in Storm's End.

"That night... you just let your sister stride inside, knowing full well that His Grace was piss drunk?"

"As far as I'm concerned, she was welcome. If His Grace wanted her to leave, he could have said so, and she would have obeyed."

"Don't act so clueless, Loras." Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "If your sister was just as drunk and some lord sneaked into her bedchamber... would you say the same?"

"You should not peek your nose into matters unrelated to you, Ser Arthur."

"One of our oaths is to protect the King's name and honour. When you stepped aside, you disregarded that oath for your family's ambitions. You forget that our duty is to him first and foremost-"

"You are in no position to chastise me." Loras countered. "If His Grace saw fault in my actions, he would say so."

"As one sworn brother to another, we should hold each other accountable for our mistakes... especially in the absence of a Lord Commander."

"I would agree... if it were a mistake." Loras shook his head. "His Grace was quite insistent, I am told. Margaery had no intention of staining his honour-"

"What would a lady want inside His Grace's bedchamber in the middle of the night?" Arthur sighed. "Do you think I was born yesterday, Ser Loras?"

"Sometimes it seems so," Loras remarked. "Our duty is to protect the King and serve at his pleasure. I did not hear any sounds of displeasure or pain from him during that night; I can assure you of that much."

"You're funny." Arthur chuckled. "I suppose nothing I say will change your mind, nor am I in any position to command you."

"You've taken that long to realise that."

"I don't know how Edric plays all these games with you Tyrells without wanting to bash his head into a wall." Arthur mused, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "A part of him must find some enjoyment out of it."

"No games are being played; you can rest assured. It was not a matter of politics or ambition... but rather one of love. My sister loved him so greatly that the loss of her maidenhead was inconsequential compared to one night in his embrace."

"... Spare me the poetry." Arthur rolled his eyes. "You know how Edric is with bonds. He will do anything for those he loves. If a child comes from this one night of passion... there is no doubt in my mind that he would take great care of it. One thing could lead to another - you know precisely what I'm talking about."

"I don't." Loras acted clueless.

"Could you white-caped monkeys argue a little more? It helps me sleep." Edric spoke with a booming voice, so much so that they heard him all too clearly.

"Forgive us, Your Grace." Loras glanced at Arthur.

Before they knew it, he walked out in his night robe. 

"Yap, yap, yap..." He shook his head, looking rather tired. "Arthur... Loras is right that you shouldn't stick your nose in my business. I could sleep with whoever I like, it's none of your concern."

Loras smiled slightly.

"Of course, Your Grace." Arthur lowered his head slightly.

"As for you, Knight of Flowers... on account of our friendship, your skill and my opinion of your sister - I've allowed the matter to slide and chosen to take responsibility as I most certainly played a part in it. However, if it isn't my wife, I don't want another woman strolling into my bedchamber uninvited when I am drunk ever again. Got it?"

Loras dutifully nodded. "As you wish, Your Grace."

"Alright, now you both can shut up, and I can dream away."

He patted their shoulders and returned to his bed.

"Well, that settles that," Arthur remarked.

Loras replied only with a nod, which made Arthur chuckle. He, too, remained silent as his King had ordered.

~

Edric sat in the library, reading through old books. Maester Jurne slowly entered, smiling at the sight. He approached, bowing his head when Edric looked up.

"Your Grace."

"Maester Jurne." Edric smiled slightly and nodded. "Are you looking to read up on some things yourself?"

"Indeed, that was my intention." Jurne nodded. "I did not expect to see you here, of all places, Your Grace. I recall you were far more fond of physical activities."

"I was not a King then." Edric chuckled, shaking his head. "Fate has an amusing way of weaving out our lives, doesn't it?"

"Life can be most unpredictable, of course." Jurne agreed, smiling. "Even so, I believe the crown has found its right place. You are more like your father than any other son he sired."

"I do not wish to be like my father." Edric closed shut the book, standing up. "He was a flawed King, careless in many ways. He often did what was easiest for him rather than the right thing. I... understand why he was this way, mayhaps more than anyone else. Even so, the making of a truly great man is one who does not break."

"Robert was always the warrior, hardly fit for a garden," Jurne remarked. "Even so, under him, the Realm knew many years of peace."

"And growing debt," Edric countered, chuckling. "Curse him for leaving this mess to me. Sometimes, I wish he were here. I'd like to give him a good punch to the face."

"I am sure he would've been overjoyed," Jurne said with a jestful tone, chuckling. "I'd imagine having a strong heir like you would make him proud over the moon. He would have welcomed a good fight."

"Oh, I'd give him a good fight, alright." Edric gave a look of confidence, stepping away from his seat. "Someday, some little princeling will be reading about my reign as I read about those before me. May that book be lengthy, full of great deeds and inspire him as I was inspired by great people of the past."

"I am certain it will."

Edric stepped to Jurne, towering over him. To his shock, he spread open his arms and embraced the maester. He was careful not to squeeze the life out of his bones.

"As of the present... I'll try to make use of all the lessons that you taught me, Jurne." Edric smiled slightly, patting his back. "Forgive me for being a troublesome learner at times."

"Ahaha..." Jurne laughed heartily. "It was always an honour, Your Grace. I only wish I had been able to be by your side a little longer."

"Mn..." Edric stepped back, nodding. "If I could choose a Grand Maester, it would be you. Alas... the Citadel has its own workings."

"Gormon Tyrell is an excellent maester, Your Grace. He is many times more knowledgeable than I." Jurne smiled, shaking his head. "Though I am honoured by your faith... you should not allow your heart to cloud your judgement."

"I try not to." Edric pat his shoulder. "This might be the last time I see you for several years... mayhaps even more."

"Do not trouble yourself. Your home is King's Landing now."

"My home will never change, maester. This is where I was born and raised." Edric took a deep breath and removed his hand. "I wish you well, Jurne. Take care not to choke on any food or fall down a long flight of stairs in my absence."

"I'll try my best." Jurne nodded.

"Good man."

...

"Dorrick, I got something for you."

Edric dragged along the corpse of a stag, with seven rabbits tied to it in a line. The butcher observed with a chuckle.

"Went out hunting, Your Grace?"

"Living up to my name as the one and only Ser Rabbitslayer." Edric presented his game on the table, lining them up neatly. "Consider this a gift."

"A gift?" The butcher raised an eyebrow. "That will not do, Your Grace. I shall offer a fair price-"

"I insist." Edric shook his head and smiled. "For teaching me how to skin animals, telling me what a fair price is and what isn't. Most of all, for keeping me well-fed all those years. I'd be half my size without you, no doubt."

"Very well," the butcher chuckled. "I will graciously accept your gift, Your Grace."

"Make sure the boys don't go hungry."

"Oh, they'll be feasting."

...

“Busy as usual?”

Edric entered Courtnay Penrose’s study, surprising him. He looked up, almost as if he had been spooked. Afterwards, the man chuckled and got up from his seat.

“How did you get here while making so little noise, Your Grace?”

“I've been practising my sneaking.”

“Fancy yourself an assassin now?”

“Mayhaps.” Edric chuckled. “I wouldn't make a great one, though. I’m a bit on the heavy side.”

“That goes without saying.” Cortnay Penrose observed his physique. “You will soon outgrow even your father at his best, that is most certain. I feel for any man that must face you in battle.”

“Yeah, I do, too.” Edric nodded. “Nevermind me. How are you doing these days, Ser?”

“Well enough.” Cortnay Penrose remarked. “Given that the war was quite short and decisive, the Stormlands haven't suffered much. Storm’s End remains prosperous and your small village is bringing new settlers by the day.”

“I asked about you, and I got a report of Storm’s End.” Edric chuckled. “I am well aware of these things, Cortnay. Small Council meetings are far more frequent under my reign, and Varys knows a great deal about most things."

“Nothing gets past that spider…” Cortnay remarked. “You should be wary of him, Edric. Your uncle had sentenced him to death, and I doubt that is something he will forget.”

“I do not believe him to be a shortsighted man. He does not see the world through the same proud and self-serving lens that most men in his position would.” Edric shook his head. “It was I who pardoned him, in the end… for I believed we had similar goals. The truth of that will come to light eventually.”

“... It seems that you have grown accustomed to the court of King’s Landing,” Cortnay said with a rather stern expression. “It's a dangerous game to play, Your Grace. It would be better to surround yourself with men who are wholeheartedly loyal to you.”

“Some risks are worth the reward.” Edric countered, shaking his head. “Don't fret for me, Ser. I know how to take care of myself.”

“... Is that so?” He managed a smile, looking into his deep blue eyes, which had lost their boyish, bubbly charm - replaced by an unwavering, still ocean. “I forget myself… you are not the boy who left Storm’s End. War and Kingship have hardened you into a man. A strong man, indeed. There is little I could teach you now.”

Edric embraced Cortnay Penrose, who smiled slightly.

“... I wanted to thank you, Ser Cortnay... for everything. You made it so that I could learn everything I needed for the future. I would not be who I am today without you.”

“The honour was all mine, Your Grace. I could not have asked for a greater ward.” 

“You're a good man,” Edric said, moving away and patting his shoulder. “I can rest easy knowing Storm’s End remains in your capable hands.”

“Spoken like a King.” Cortnay Penrose looked with pride, nodding. “Your father would be proud.”

“My father…” Edric chuckled. “If I had a father in this life, he would be you. Why do you think I grew to be as stubborn as stone?”

Cortnay laughed. "You are Robert's spitting image, Your Grace. All I did was put a bow in your hand and teach you what any knight would. Your blood did the rest."

"You are selling yourself short," Edric remarked, smiling. "I won't be here for long, you know. There will be another tourney at King's Landing and a marriage to go with it. It wouldn't look good on me if I missed a marriage in my own seat..."

"I won't keep you chained down, Your Grace."

"I wish to share a drink, man to man... before I leave." Edric tilted his head slightly. "Would you indulge me, Ser?"

"Of course."

Edric took care not to drink too much, catching up with his former guardian. He learned more about Storm's End, left orders that every able-bodied boy and man would practice with the bow daily and said his farewells. 

When he was done, he descended to the yard.

...

While Arya Stark was brushing up on her water-dancing skills, a rather perplexed Dickon Tarly approached. The boy hadn't seen a girl practice with a sword before, it was most strange to him.

"Girls shouldn't be practising with swords." He remarked.

Arya paused, glancing at him with a flicker of ferocity. "Who told you that?"

"It's just not normal." Dickon countered. "Boys are stronger. Besides, His Grace is the strongest warrior in the Realm. Why would you need that little sword when you're going to marry him?"

"It's none of your..." Arya recalled her conversation with Edric, pausing. She had wanted to say much worse. "It's what I like to do. You should try needlework and see how much you like it."

"It's not something boys do-"

"The only person in the Realm who can forbid Arya to train with a sword is His Grace." 

Dickon turned to see Brienne, who towered over him. He feigned a smile. His father had once told him about her, and his opinion was not at all positive.

"His Grace is too accepting of some things." He remarked, turning around.

...

"Ser Davis, how goes the training?" Edric approached his old teacher. "Are any of my squires misbehaving?"

"No, they're all good lads." Davis shook his head. "It seems that they admire you deeply, obeying every instruction on your account. The Tarly boy is strong and skilled for his age. As for your two other squires... they are more experienced than even some knights. You've taken them to a number of battles, haven't you?"

"They've been in the fires of war a good bit, that much is true." Edric nodded. "What about it?"

"They fight like warriors, with a certain... fury. I don't know how to describe it precisely."

"I know what you mean." Edric smiled, crossing his arms. "They've danced with death so often that they no longer fear it. Sparring is child's play compared to that."

"I suppose you would be right, Your Grace."

"Fancy hosting one more gauntlet for me? I'm itching for a fight." Edric grinned slightly. 

"Certainly... just take care not to break any bones with that warhammer."

"I won't be. On this occasion, I want to train my swordskill"

Edric proceeded to duel damn near every knight in Storm's End to first blood, from men he hardly knew to his Kingsguard. The exercise was gruelling... even for him. By the end, he was so tired he could scarcely raise his sword and was relying on Hyper-Focus to carry him. Even so, he hadn't lost a single fight - to the awe of every witness.

Until... the Hound put him down at the end of the gauntlet. 

"I was beginning to think I was untouchable." Edric chuckled, observing the small cut at his side. "You brought me back down to the ground, Hound."

"Hardly something to be proud of. You're breathing like a dog who had been running his whole life, Your Grace."

"Heh..." Edric chuckled. "Aye, I need a good rest. Good work, everyone. I most definitely got my day's worth of exercise."

He said his farewells to Ser Davis and then walked over to Arya. She was practising archery now, with a smaller bow like the ones he had used in his early years. Though her pull strength wasn't particularly impressive, she had noticeable accuracy.

"Now, this is a sight," Edric remarked. "Why don't you try my goldenheart bow?"

"I wouldn't be able to pull the string," Arya countered, her expression changing as she felt drops of rain fall on her. Looking up, she frowned. "Does it always have to rain here... did you do that on purpose?"

"Welcome to Storm's End," Edric said, spreading his arms and laughing. "And no, that wasn't me. I wouldn't be so petty..."

The rain suddenly grew in strength, pouring down on Storm's End. The wind grew heavy, too. Edric's hair swayed wildly as he watched Arya step into shelter. He remained still, taking a deep breath.

"And then you wonder why you have so few clothes," Arya remarked. "Because you're always standing in the rain like a fool. I'm surprised you haven't gotten sick yet."

"It doesn't matter whether you're angry, sorrowful, surprised, joyful or afraid; it will rain here. There's something about the rain... it's akin to a breath of life, a sense of relief." Edric raised his hand, observing the drops. "It's a calming rhythm, one that clears the mind of any other distractions and remains unchanged until the final drops. There's nothing quite so peaceful as that..."

"Suppose you'd like to stand in it all day long."

"Do you know the story behind Storm's End?" Edric asked, deflecting her remark. "In truth, it is the one I am most fond of."

"Perhaps you'd like to tell me." Arya knew a little about it, but she wanted him to speak on it.

"It all started when Durran Godsgrief won the love of Elenei, who was the daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind. She had given her maidenhead to him and committed herself to a mortal life as a result. Her parents would forbid the match, yet the two wed despite their disapproval. The gods would tear this land to pieces in their wrath, killing all of the Durran's guests and family on their wedding day. His keep would also be destroyed... and the only two who remained standing from the devastation were Elenei and her dear husband, who survived under her protection."

"He would wage war on the gods in his fury, and the gods would reply with more storms, hammering away at his kingdom. King Durran would build castle after castle against Shipbreaker Bay, each more fortified and stronger than the last. Each would break under the wrath of the gods... until the seventh; Storm's End."

"Talk about stubborn persistence, eh?" Edric chuckled, turning to Arya. "Mayhaps that is why I am so welcome to the rain... it's in my blood."

"I think I know why you like that story so much." Arya gave him a smile.

"Oh, do you?" 

"Even when the gods forbid it, Durran remained steadfast. He didn't abandon his wife out of fear... he chose to fight. You'd do the same for someone you loved."

"Yes... that's part of it." Edric nodded. "They both made great sacrifices to be bound together. One abandoned her divinity, while the other defied the wrath of gods. The strength of their union and love could not be denied... and so, Storm's End came to be."

"You like reading about heroes, don't you?" Arya remarked with a slight smile.

"What inspires a man more than legend?" Edric replied, looking up at the sky "Like you worship Nymeria and Visenya, I admire Durran and many others for their great deeds. Even if... some might be exaggerated. Perhaps Durran never built seven castles, or Elenei wasn't the daughter of two gods. Who could ever know?"

"It might be true." Arya shrugged. "The weather in Storm's End is not normal.. nor is your magic."

"Hm..." Edric chuckled, raising his hand. Suddenly, the drops of rain waned and waned... until the final drop fell, and the wind halted to a light breeze. "Anyway, you may continue. It should be a while before it rains."

"... You should marry rain instead," Arya remarked, recalling him standing in it.

"Didn't you know?" He smiled, speaking in a jestful tone. "She is my first wife... following me wherever I go, showering my body in her sweet love whenever she can. Wind and lightning are my other two wives, the latter being the most envious and vicious of them all."

"Yeah, right." Arya chuckled.

"You should enjoy Storm's End while you can. We'll be leaving soon."

...

Edric found Asha Greyjoy sitting against the wall of a stable, drunk as could be. She had a few bruises on her, evidence of a fight from earlier. She had an axe by her side, which she had stolen.

"You are one giant mess, Asha," Edric remarked, raising an eyebrow. "I heard you got into a fight, and Cortnay was an inch away from throwing you into a cell."

"Fuck Stormlander cunts... every one of them," Asha muttered, tilting her head. "You most of all."

"I don't appreciate the fact that I let you stretch your legs, and the first thing you do is embarrass me. Must I have you on a short leash like an undisciplined hound for you to behave? Do I have to keep you locked up in some dusty cell with one little window to look at? I am willing, no doubt... but I'd like to have more faith in you as a grown woman."

Asha grasped the axe by her side and slowly raised it.

"Now, that would be unwise," Edric remarked, shaking his head. "Put it down."

"... I want to sleep..." She lowered it, closing her eyes and forcing them open again. "In a proper... bed."

She collapsed onto the ground.

"Not exactly in the position to make demands... but I'll be kind." Edric sighed, watching her wretched state. "Hound, find her a bed to sleep in."

"..." Sandor didn't look too amused by the request but followed his orders. 'Now I've got to take care of the dumb Ironborn bitch.'

...

After saying his farewells, Edric set sail to King's Landing with some added company. A handful of vigorous villagers had chosen to volunteer for his direct retinue, while several knights and stormlords sought to participate in the upcoming festivities. 

With much of the Realm gathering to celebrate, King's Landing would look just as lively as it did during the Hand's Tourney...

[I decided to just put two chapters together since it's a lot of slice-of-life scenes to wrap up Edric's time at Storm's End]

Raiden's Storm Chapter 48: Wolf And Stag

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Whooosh.

With a strong flick of his wrist, Edric sent Arya’s needle flying high into the air. He then pointed his longsword at her.

“I think practice swords would do better than live steel,” Edric remarked in the scolding tone of an older brother. “It wouldn’t be ideal if we cut each other.”

“You don’t say.”

She tried to punch Edric in the babymaker, but he used Huper-Focus to see it in slowed time. He grabbed her hand by the wrist and twisted it slightly. She didn’t give up, aiming a punch to his kidney with her other hand. He grabbed her fist with his far larger palm, enveloping it. Then, in a single motion, he pulled Arya's arms behind her back and gently threw her to the ground.

“Are you done?” He raised an eyebrow as she glanced at him with a fierce look. 

“I… hate you.”

“Hate’s a strong word.” 

“And I meant it.”

“I don't believe you did, not truly.” Edric shook his head. “You have every right to be upset... and I won’t make any excuses for what happened. The Tyrells saw an opportunity, and they took it. However, I was the one who created it in the first place. I was careless..."

Arya's frown eased only slightly.

"So...?"

"I'm sorry." Edric's expression looked sincere as he sighed. “I really am… for everything. For the longest time, I've thought about breaking our betrothal so many times. For Margaery, your sister… for any lady that would serve me better.” 

“I'm not surprised.” Arya frowned, shaking her head. Her self-mocking expression mellowed to a downcast one as she continued to speak. “Everyone knows; everyone says it behind my back. That I'm not pretty enough, too wild, unrefined, unlady-like… and you're… you. Every lady’s fantasy. An invincible warrior, an inspiring leader and a handsome King. They'd all get on the floor and kiss your feet if you asked them to.”

Edric’s grip eased as he listened carefully to Arya’s words.

“Sansa is right… why would you even want to be with me? The only reason I'm here is because our fathers bid it so… but neither of them are here now.” She bit her lip. "I'll break our betrothal and go back to Winterfell. That way, you can do whatever you want. It would be for the better anyway... you don't even like me. You just act like it because you have to."

"Arya..." 

It was undoubtedly tempting for Edric. He could move away from the little wolf girl and find someone closer to his age—probably someone more pleasant, too. But... it didn't feel right. He would get what he wanted while sending Arya away with nothing but pain.

"You'll do no such thing." He lowered his head, his deep blue eyes looking into hers. "Listen... it doesn't matter what Sansa, Margaery or any other lady says. You're stronger than any one of them and brilliant in ways that none of them can understand. You're my lady... and one day, you will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Not just any queen, you'll be a great one. I know it to be true."

"You're just trying to make me feel better," she said, frowning and shaking her head. "Let go of me."

"... Alright." Edric let go of her wrists and stood up. "But I want you to come with me."

Arya got off the ground and stretched her arms. Then she looked up at Edric and slowly nodded with a conflicted expression.

"Fine."

He took her to the top of Storm's End's only tower, one of Edric's most favoured sights. He leaned against one of the square stone merlons, overlooking the castle and expanding Narrow Sea.

"You know, when I grew up here, I wasn't very popular... oh, not at all. I had no friends; all the ladies frowned at me, and I was alone. All the time. That Edric would've never been King, not even if it was his heart's greatest desire." Edric said, his hair swaying with the wind. "But... I started trying. Going outside of what I was comfortable with. My confidence grew... and I steadily improved with it." 

Arya listened keenly, not even interrupting him.

"That's the main thing." He turned to her and smiled. "Confidence. When they called me a bastard, I owned it like a suit of Valyrian steel armour. Even to this day, no enemy of mine can use it to insult me. In the same way, you should be proud of your strengths rather than shun them. As for your weaknesses? Needlework? Seriously... when will I ask you to knit me something?"

“I don't think you ever would,” Arya answered. “Even if you wanted, you'd ask someone better to do it.”

"Mhm… what about singing? Well, if I wanted a singer, I'd marry Marillion." 

Arya chuckled momentarily, shaking her head. "But... there are some weaknesses that are important, and I can't fix them.”

"You're talking about your looks? Don't worry about them. They're not something you can control, and... besides, I believe you'll be absolutely stunning someday."

“You do?” She blinked.

“Mhm, just as Lyanna Stark was.” Edric gave her a reassuring smile. “However, what matters most to a Queen is this..."

He tapped her forehead.

"The head on her shoulders. Wits."

"... Hm." She touched her forehead, looking at the sea. "A wise King would do better with a clever Queen."

"Mhm..." Edric nodded. "I've told a great many lies and half-truths, yet you always see through them. It's quite telling that grown men and women fall for it but not a little girl like you. Intelligence is an invaluable skill. Yes, it can be harnessed and improved, but some are simply born smarter than others.”

“...” Arya nodded, each word of his like a hammer at a forge - hammering out her insecurities one after the other.

“Do you know about the Good Queen Alysanne?" Edric questioned.

"Of course... she was King Jaehaerys' the Concilliator's wife. She rode the dragon Silverwing and everyone loved her, both highborn and smallfolk. She changed the laws of the Realm, especially the ones that were against girls. The main ones were Widow's Law and the lord's right to the first night which she abolished."

"I don't think your sister would give me so much detail." Edric chuckled.

Arya grinned slightly. "She'd rather dream about knights than read old history books."

"History is important, indeed. It sets a precedent for all that we do." Edric nodded. "Did you know Alysanne was a keen archer and hunter? These were rather unladylike activities. She wasn't born with the idea that she would be queen, being the youngest of the King's daughters. She also had a strong sense of independence, adventure, and freedom. She would take flights of fancy whenever... just because. She was keenly intelligent, high-spirited, a fine rider who enjoyed physical activities and someone who lived amongst the smallfolk from time to time—despite her station."

"Does that sound... similar to someone we know?"

"..." Arya's grey eyes sparkled slightly as she kept looking at Edric. When he put it that way, they did seem eerily similar. It was definitely high praise to be compared to Queen Alysanne. She smiled slightly, nodding. "Yes, she does."

"She wasn't beautiful either, no, not like most of the Targaryens who tended to be more akin to gods than men. That didn't matter, though. She was charming regardless and loved by many." Edric turned to Arya, ruffling her hair. “Do you think Sansa could bear to so much as talk to a butcher’s boy, let alone befriend him?”

“Not in a lifetime.” Arya smiled, feeling more confident in herself. 

“See, you do have what it takes. One of the most important roles of a Queen is to befriend and charm others, to be leader amongst the ladies of the Realm. You only need to refine your many gifts and you will make a finer queen than anyone else.”

“However, that means going outside of what you're comfortable and resembling more of a lady when you need to. You shouldn't be an outcast in the royal court… and I know you have the ability not to be. You just need to try, alright?”

“Sure… I'll try.” She nodded, pouting slightly. “But you've dodged the matter about Margaery.”

“You want me to turn back time?” Edric raised an eyebrow. “I was piss drunk and… well, my drunk self doesn't like to be lonely at night-”

“Promise me it won't happen again.” Arya looked at him with a stern expression.

“...” Edric smiled, shaking his head while placing a hand on his heart. “I swear it won't happen again, by the Old Gods and the New.”

“If it does, I'll poke her with Needle.”

“I could only imagine her terror.” Edric chuckled.

“That goes for any lady. Not just Margaery.” Arya turned around and started going down the steps.

“I hope ol' Joffrey didn't give you a taste for blood,” Edric remarked. “Little girls shouldn't go around stabbing people.”

"But it's perfectly fine when you bash a hundred people with your massive Warhammer?” Arya glanced back. “Or shoot down hundreds with arrows?”

“I'm not a little girl.” Edric shrugged. 

“You’re only two years older.”

‘If I wasn't a reincarnator…’ Edric thought. “Don’t argue with me on this, alright? I only mean the best for you.”

“Mhm…” She didn't sound convinced. “I'm going to continue practicing.”

‘Brat…’

Edric chuckled as she left. 

“It seems that you truly intend to marry the Stark one day.” Raiden Shogun remarked, floating above the tower.

“Yeah,” Edric admitted. "It's the right thing to do."

~

A middle-aged man rested in the sun on a bench on the balcony of a great manse, surrounded by three beautiful women of Valyrian descent. Their hair was silver and blonde, and their eyes were violet, lilac, and dark blue. One massaged his shoulders, the other his arms, and the third his scarred legs.

He was in paradise, grinning from ear to ear. There was nothing better in life. 

"Indulging in your endless hedonistic proclivities rather than seeing me, father?"

An ethereal beauty that eclipsed the three others combined strode forward with confidence, thieving the sun's light. Dorian slowly opened his eye, glancing to the side. His grin turned into a warm smile.

"Sweet Rhae... I was going to see you in due time." He chuckled. "Clever girl, you found me first."

"Mhm." She raised an eyebrow. "You asked me to sail all the way here to Pentos for good reason, I hope."

"Does a loving father need reason to see his princess?"

"I had thought your boy King had you chained down doing his dirty work... for a gold dragon per day?"

"You're a woman now; you don't need me holding your hand every day," Dorian chuckled. "I heard you've done exceptionally well for yourself, for that matter. The profits you made triple what I expected from my clever girl... Seven Hells, you created your own merchant guild from my meagre allowance. You may even be richer than I."

"Well, of course..." She couldn't help but smile slightly. "I learned from the best... and I don't spend my gold on pointless proclivities."

"Someone needs to be tight-fisted with her gold to compensate for my careless spending," Dorian chuckled. "Speaking of... now is the time to put your talents to use, my dear."

"Hm?" She raised an eyebrow. "You would have me serve your favourite little bastard as well?"

"Precisely... and he's not so little."

"There are a hundred things I'd rather do than play serving girl to him."

"..." He sighed, shaking his head. "Ladies, give us a moment."

The three women silently left, and Dorian stood up, turning to face his daughter.

"Is this where you somehow manage to convince me otherwise?" She questioned, crossing her arms.

"Aye." Dorian chuckled. "... I know you enjoy your freedom, and Lys the Lovely is most definitely a finer place to live than Shit's Landing. However-"

"However, baby Edric has lightning magic and is just so brilliant." She added with a tone of sarcasm.

"He's a charming and amusing lad-"

"I could hire a jester if I sought amusement."

"Now, now... I know you have grand ambitions, but such ambitions require more than gold to realise. They need power, the sort that can change the world. Edric will one day have that."

"You don't mean to sell me to him?"

"I wouldn't dare to." Dorian shook his head. "I am simply asking you to act in my interests while I am away. You need not do more than support him as I would. Now is a time of paramount importance, after all. The tides are changing... and he needs a shadow to watch over him."

"While you go and play with the dragons?"

"Aye... the last pieces that need to fall." Dorian smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, there will be a grand wedding and tourney to go with it. Didn't you once express your desire to witness one? Imagine all the trumpets, euphonious songs, handsome knights, mighty lords and beautiful ladies... an event that shall be remembered for centuries to come."

"That's a picture I would like to witness." She smiled slightly. "I'm only going for the tourney. After that-"

"You will have time to spread your wings, Rhaerra. I need you to do this now. I wouldn't trust anyone else."

"..." After exchanging looks, she slowly nodded. "If that is your wish, father."

"Good girl. When I return, you better not be smothering my King after acting so stubborn... or I'll laugh my remaining eye out. Though, if it was your desire, I wouldn't mind him for a son-"

"Mayhaps you should marry him yourself." She chuckled.

"Oh, if I were a woman, I most definitely would." Dorian jested, shrugging his shoulders. "Anyway, I am certain you will take a liking to him. He might even help you with your archery. The boy can shoot with deadly accuracy from hundreds of paces and perfectly pierce plate."

"... Hundreds of paces with deadly accuracy?" She raised an eyebrow. "You must be jesting."

"Oh, not at all. Edric is quite extraordinary... though you'll only properly understand when you see him for yourself."

...

Later, in Illyrio's manse.

"What brings you to my grand abode, Dorian-Daggerhand?" Illyrio sat at a table with him, watching him drink his full. "You were meant to stay by the bastard's side, last I recall."

"Ahh..." Dorian savoured the last of the wine in his goblet before placing it down. "See, I had a change of plans. Edric is no longer the boy who would toss his crown away to anyone, not even a dragon."

"Then you should have disposed of him."

"What gives you the idea that you can command me?" Dorian grinned, drawing a dagger and observing its glistening blade. The plump Unsullied guards around the room edged forward. "You want an assassin? Go hire one, cheesemonger."

"Don't tell me you've turned your cloak on your blood for that boy."

"My blood, please..." Dorian scoffed, laughing at his accusation. "What has my blood done for me? Save me the sob story; you know I only serve myself. Now... I ask you, do you have more of those dragon eggs?"

"They do not grow on trees." Illyrio shook his head. 

"A shame. I'd like a dragon-egg growing tree."

"However, I know where you might buy one... though the price is costly. Since Daenerys hatched hers, the owner believes he might do the same and treasures it most deeply."

"I might fancy to take it for free, in that case."

"For free..." Illyrio chuckled, his friendly expression turning serious. "Of course. The information will not be free, however."

"Is that so?" Dorian observed his reflection. "If I were truly a turncoat, I would've stabbed you in your sleep and robbed you of all your riches. Even now... your cockless, fat, soldiers wouldn't stop me from killing you either. All it would take is one throw."

"All you have to tell me is where this dragon-egg-treasuring cunt merchant rests and I'll be on my way."

"..." Illyrio's heart raced a bit as he observed Dorian's fearless eye. His stare was unwavering and still like a calm lake. "Very well, I'll tell you."

Dorian smiled, showing his most unsettling pointy teeth.

"Glad we could come to an arrangement, old friend."

~

[Author's note]

Sorry for the break, was celebrating Easter and procrastinating a little. Dennis will have an extra-long chapter next week and I'll try to do three Raiden's Storm chapters.

Raiden's Storm Chapter 47: Confession

“Since you’re the King now…” One of the kids said, tapping their chin in thought. She then pointed at Margaery, who stood by my side “Does that mean she’s the queen?”

I chuckled, exchanging looks with Margaery.

“There is no queen as of yet, sweet girl.” Margaery smiled, shaking her head as she knelt down beside her.

“Why not? Every King should have a queen.”

“Well, the little lady who is meant to marry him isn’t old enough yet.” Margaery explained patiently, brushing her hair. “I believe she’s practicing with swords as of now.”

“Swords? Isn’t that for knights and lords?”

“Some ladies are special.” Margaery smiled, looking at Brienne. “Take Brienne of Tarth for example.”

“An especially capable warrior, indeed.” I agreed.

Brienne nodded rather humbly.

“Maybe I can practice too…”

“Don’t mind Elen, Your Grace.” Her mother smiled, pulling the girl away. “She is a curious girl.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “It’s quite alright.”

Margaery was a natural with smallfolk, from the elderly to the children. She charmed almost the entire village in a single day. I wouldn’t even blame people for believing that she was the Queen. She gave a strong impression of a kind, refined and sweet lady.

I went on to spend the day in the village, from helping out with the day-to-day work to teaching some of the boys a thing or two about fighting. It was satisfying to see the development of my settlement. Like planting a seed and returning to a blossoming little plant.

Before night came, I did my usual exercises… and more. Sparring every knight in my company with warhammer and sword, sniping targets from well over five hundred paces, sprinting laps in full plate, pulling myself up from a tree (unfortunately, I broke a few branches... I’m a heavy bastard), sit-ups, push-ups... I was doing everything.

By the time I finished, man’s was smelling like Pisswater Bend and I felt tired for once. Though, some might see my smell as a more ‘manly odour’. Margaery had been latching on to me for most of the day, though I didn’t mind. She tended to make most things better. So did Sansa and Arianne accompany me, the latter of whom had been flirting with me at every opportunity.

I took to my temporary quarters, a house I had helped build.

Since Arianne is the heir to Sunspear... it wouldn't be wise to coldly brush her off. She is no maid, either. Having her loyalty would secure Dorne in the present and future. It could come at a price, of course. I'd have to shag her well enough.

It seems rather simple... drink some Stag's Fury... seggs... secure the kingdom. My child might even be heir to Dorne someday - if I have one.

I took a deep breath, contemplating it - pacing back and forth in the room.

Raiden Shogun looked at me, her violet gaze observing me carefully. She hadn't spoken for a while. As for me, I hadn't spoken to her at all... not since my resignation.

"What are you thinking about?" She questioned.

I looked away, rubbing my forehead.

"There's no one to hear us." She remarked, tilting her head slightly. "Or is this your way of getting back at me? It's rather childish, Edric. As I am now, all I have to offer are words. However, if you continue to ignore me... then I might as well not even exist."

"What do you want me to say to you?" I shrugged, looking back at her.

"Maybe answer my question?"

"What gives you right to my thoughts?"

"... You seem to forget who gave you the magic you twirl around so carelessly." Raiden Shogun's tone became cold as she stared down at me. "The blessing that lifted you to the grounds you stand upon today."

"No... I've not forgotten. Not at all." I shook my head. "If all goes well, your resurrection is fated. What happens after that... well, you'll be free from me. Do whatever you want, go wherever you like. You'll have your freedom, as I once promised."

"Free from you?" She remarked, her expression relaxing.

"Yes..." I chuckled. "You won't be chained to me anymore—free as a bird."

"... I see." She slowly nodded. "Is that what you wish for?"

"A life for a life is fair, no?" I managed to smile, turning away from her. "You could consider my debt paid."

"Edric... it was a mistake," Raiden admitted. "You know how I feel about you. At that point in time, I did what I thought was right... and stood by that decision for a time. You're strong now, yes, but I never thought your heart would break as it did. Because of me, you're always suffering on the inside. Fighting yourself... and I... don't know how to make it right."

"Truly... I don't..."

I took a deep breath, looking at the wall. I didn't know what to say to her. Part of me wanted to tell her to shut her mouth, the other didn't. That other half wanted to embrace her and say everything would be okay. The hopeful half, the one that would bend over backwards for her...

I shook my head.

"Edric... forgive me."

She floated before me, her pale, ethereal hands phasing through my face.

"... Don't." I stepped back.

"I've always had the choice to fade into nothing... even now, I could..." She shook her head. "But... I have no desire to, even as you turn me away. It's not because I seek to live, to have that body you promised me. I don't care about that... for it would all be worthless without you."

"What I seek... is a future with you."

"... Why?" I questioned.

"I could speak on it all day..." Her lips curled into a smile. "But... the main reason is that you are everything I am not. You cherish others, willing to stake your life for those you love. You want nothing more than to be free... yet you understand your duty to the Realm and put that first before your desires. You inspire all those around you, making them fight out of love - not fear."

"You work relentlessly to better yourself, struggling time and time again... until you succeed. You take triumph in your growth and victories, yet that never stops you from seeking even greater heights. Each time you fall, you come to rise again... stronger. You are the very opposition of eternity, an ordinary man who transformed and surpassed himself repeatedly."

"You are human... and that's the most beautiful thing about you."

It was as if she had grasped my heart once more, taking it for herself. I couldn't find the right words to say. I was at a loss, just as she was when I slashed my hand and resigned myself from her service.

"I see..." She slowly nodded, breaking the silence between us. "I am unworthy of being by your side... especially with how I've been. Truth be told, our differences make us an unlikely pair in many ways, and... so perfect in others. Through you, I can become a better person. I can learn what it truly means to be... human. I can grow as you have."

"... Yes." I nodded in agreement. "You can."

"..." Her usually violet eyes lit up a brighter lilac. "And I will... by the love that we share."

The thoughts that once clouded my mind evaporated... and I lost all desire to act them out. I didn't need to fuck half the Realm, nor Arianne. I could inspire the loyalty of the Martells in other ways. I am Edric fucking Storm... what man in the Realm is more fit to be their King?

...

"I wonder... what made you accept Kingship?" Margaery asked, turning to me as we walked around the village the following day. "By how the crown suits you, one could not even imagine that you would have denied it once."

"This." I spread open my arms, looking around.

"This?"

"As a bastard, I had no real power. Everything I possessed, I had to earn. This village was built on my archery contest winnings—built by the people who wanted a new home. I helped create their vision. Now... isn't it rather small?"

"It's quite impressive for a new settlement..."

"But it's no Highgarden," I added, smiling slightly. "Or Storm's End, Casterly Rock, Winterfell. It's just a little village that isn't even marked on the majority of maps."

"Mn..." She nodded. "That is true."

"As King... I can build great monuments that can stand tall against the test of time, rally armies at will, change the very laws that men abide by, shape these lands in my image... my visions can be so, so, much grander."

"And... I can punch anyone I dislike." I chuckled. "Or whack them with my Warhammer."

"That's the most important privilege of all." Margaery smiled, playing along with my jest.

"Aye... it's good to be King." I smiled, nodding. "There are aspects I dislike, of course... but that's life. Nothing is ever perfect."

"What do you dislike, in that case?"

"Well... the assassination attempts, for one. Having to be paranoid about what I drink and eat all the time. Walking around like a maniac trying to hammer down rebellions... that's another aspect. Though, I do enjoy battle..."

Margaery chuckled. "The rebellions are at an end now, Your Grace. You can rest at ease."

"Well, there's still a dragon lady with three dragons who thinks my crown should be hers."

Oh, and Mr 'Aegon'. God knows what he is; Blackfyre, Targaryen or something else entirely.

"I have no doubt you would promptly crush those notions... should she cross the Known World."

"Mn... mayhaps." I changed the topic. "There's another aspect, and that would be the constant attention. I can't take a piss without someone hearing about it. Nor can I walk around without an entourage of at least a dozen men... or ladies. The Gods know I have no desire for so many ladies constantly vying for my attention..."

"Why, you are a most remarkable person, Your Grace." Margaery smiled, looking at me. "It's only natural that they would seek even a moment of your time."

"Mhm..."

There was also my betrothal to Arya Stark... which wasn't terrible, but she definitely wasn't my first choice for a future wife. There were some other smaller things I didn't like, too. However, I didn't want to make it seem like I was complaining about my position.

Kingship was a duty I had wholeheartedly accepted.

~

After a day in the village, Edric moved on to Arthur's home castle which was only a few days' ride away from Storm's End. He sent back most of his entourage and rode alongside his friend. They had hunted some game in between, with Edric focusing more on his horse archery. It reminded him of simpler times.

"Oh, my boy... he's all grown and shining white!" Arthur's mother embraced him strongly, making him chuckle out of embarrassment. "It's been too long, my sweet child..."

Arthur smiled, nodding. "A lot of things happened..."

"You don't say, dear brother. You're one of the most famed knights in all the Realm. Ser Arthur of the Kingsguard, the Knight of Nightfall." His older brother praised him, patting his shoulder. "I've even heard songs about you."

"Oh, really?" Arthur blinked, chuckling. "I'm honoured, truly-"

"Woah, Arthur is really white!"

His baby sister came in, tugging on his cape. He laughed and picked her up.

"Oh... aren't you growing quickly?" Arthur remarked, smiling as he pinched her nose.

"Mhm. One day, I'll be bigger than my big brothers."

"Oh, really?" Arthur chuckled. "I look forward to that."

"It's good to have you home, my son. You have made us all proud with your achievements." Lord Tudbury nodded, looking behind Arthur. "Alas, I do not see His Grace. Did he let you leave his side?"

"I wouldn't dare break my oath," Arthur said, shaking his head. "And no... he's right here."

Edric sighed, removing his hood and stepping before their entourage.

"Your Grace!"

In the blink of an eye, everyone kneeled. He chuckled, turning to Arthur.

"And that's why I wore the silly cloak. This reunion was about you... not me."

"You are too considerate, Your Grace." Arthur smiled, shaking his head. "I am happy to see my family, regardless of whether you take all the attention. Given your station and fame, it is only natural for you to do so."

"Hm..." Edric smiled. "Don't argue with me, Ser. Go on and enjoy yourself. You've more than earned it."

~

When Edric returned to Storm's End after his little journey, he was met with a not-so-pleased Arya Stark. She didn't even welcome his return, staying in the yard and practising. He had to approach her himself.

"Hard at practice, huh?" Edric smiled, nodding. "That's good, I suppose."

"Why don't you go sleep with Margaery some more?"

"Is that an invitation?" Edric questioned with a slight grin, poking the nest a little. She mentioned it first, after all.

Arya turned to him and pointed Needle at him.

"The only invitation you'll get from me is this pointy end." She frowned.

"It might tickle," Edric observed, tilting his head as he towered over her. "In truth, I did not mean to-"

She stepped forward and aimed to slash at him.

'Well, she is a wild one.'

Edric's instincts kicked in, and he dodged, drawing his sword.

"That's one way of saying you want a spar."

Raiden's Storm Chapter 46: Mutual Understanding

I lifted the sheets over and saw blood. It didn't look like I had been cut anywhere, nor did she... chances were I outdid myself this time.

I got out of my bed and put on a robe, looking in the mirror. I saw Raiden Shoguns' reflection, who didn't look all too pleased. That didn't matter. What mattered was the consequences of my actions...

The Tyrells have something to hang over my head... and the Starks, too. Arya will probably bite my ear off and I doubt Robb would be all too approving. God forbid I become a father as well. I'm not ready for that at all...

How did it even happen?

I can remember fuck all...

"She came in the middle of the night without invitation." Raiden Shogun said, floating around me. "She saw that you were not in the right state of mind and guided you along into... entangling. In essence, you were taken advantage of."

'Is that so?' I thought, looking at myself. I looked like a bloody mess, alright. My head was buzzing, and I was one wrong turn from throwing up everything I had eaten the previous night.

It takes two to tango...

"Good morning, Your Grace."

I glanced back, seeing Margaery sit up. Arguably, she looked worse off than I did. It must've been a wild night. Then again, no one wakes up looking organized in the morning, but I wasn't used to seeing her like that...

I managed to smile as I turned to face her, acting courteously.

"How did you find last night, my lady?"

"... Wonderful. Marvellous, for lack of a better word." She gave me an innocent-looking smile as she fixed some of her hair. "It was like… a dream I didn't want to wake from. A night of endless burning passion, love and desire. It's a night I will never forget."

"Sounds like you enjoyed yourself." I chuckled. "Nor did I disappoint, by the looks of it."

"Not at all, Your Grace." She chuckled, nodding her head. "I would even say you were a bit too impressive."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I don't believe I'll be walking straight for a few days, in truth." She jested with the slightest of smirks.

"You must forgive me if I hurt you. A man tends to do foolish things when he's drunk on Stag's Fury."

"Oh, you did no such thing." She shook her head. "There was not a moment of displeasure… except the first few, of course, when you took my maidenhead."

"Shame I don't remember any of it." 

"You don't? I suppose you were rather drunk…"

"... Margaery."

I stepped closer, sitting down beside her. My tone was far more serious than before. 

"Yes, Your Grace?"

 "I want you to speak the truth. For how can any bond be considered true if it is built on lies and deception? How could there be love without trust?"

"... What truth do you seek?" She blinked, raising an eyebrow. "I dare not lie to you, Your Grace. I never have."

"Did I invite you to my bedchamber?" I looked into her eyes.

"... No. However, you did not send me away as I came."

"I see." I nodded. "... And what were your intentions with this unexpected visit in the night?"

"I simply wished to spend more time with you. In the celebration, it was not at all easy... and I did not wish to disturb you then as you reunited with your friends."

"How did it lead here?" I questioned.

"One thing led to another..." She paused, glancing away with a slight blush. "Though I only offered words of comfort, you... grew impassioned and pushed me down."

"Did I force myself on you?" I raised an eyebrow. "If so..."

"No, Your Grace. I... will admit that I goaded you into fulfilling your heart's desires. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than that - against my better judgement." She lowered her head, looking regretful. "I did take advantage of the opportunity that presented itself... that is the truth. I only wanted to be closer to you, Your Grace. I pray you forgive me."

She almost made me feel like I was in the wrong. By the sound of things, though, I did play quite a large part in it all...

I raised her chin with my hand, smiling reassuringly as she looked at me.

"Thank you for speaking the truth, my lady. I appreciate a bitter truth more than a sweet lie." I raised my hand further, brushing it against the side of her soft cheek. "Since I so brazenly took your maidenhood, I ought to take responsibility for the matter... and I will. After all, your marriage prospects must have dimmed quite a bit, and a great part of that is my fault."

"That need not be true, Your Grace..." She took my hand and cupped it in both of hers.

"The Targaryen Kings of the past had a great many liberties, with their dragons... for absolute power commands absolute authority," I spoke, freeing my hand. "And, ultimately, absolute authority bends the laws of men and faith."

"If I become as mighty as a dragon..."

Margaery's eyes suddenly lit up. No doubt, she got my meaning.

"Well, that's a matter for the future." I smiled, shaking my head as I got out of bed. "Will you need a hand getting out of bed? Perhaps I should carry you... since it doesn't seem that you had any intentions of being discreet."

"I would have been, Your Grace..." Margaery smiled sweetly. "If not for how hard it was to walk at night."

"Well, it will undoubtedly come to light in time, regardless. There is no use hiding it."

...

The moment we separated, I stood alone on the only tower of Storm's End. The wind brushed my hair as I remained deep in thought. I was a bloody mess, through and through. What even goes through my head when I'm drunk?

Did I want to fill that hole, seek that feeling of love that has eluded me?

Did I want to reel the Tyrells closer to my side by taking Margaery's virtue?

Or was I simply feeling lustful and just let myself go loose...

I sighed, shaking my head.

A King having an affair isn't something pedestrian - so it's not quite the end of the world. It would be best to accept what happened and try to pick up the mess rather than take drastic action. Starting a rebellion over one drunken entanglement isn't exactly wise... I need the Realm to be united.

After collecting my thoughts, I went to Maester Jurne and asked him to concoct one serving of moon tea. He didn't question me, going straight to work. As I waited, my heart was conflicted. Did Margaery act out of love or political gain? She was, without a doubt, intelligent and cunning to the point that she could make any act convincing...

She could probably convince the world's ugliest man that he was, in fact, quite the charmer.

Except he could look in the mirror and determine otherwise...

As for the love others hold for you?

It's much, much, harder to tell.

"It is done, Your Grace." Maester Jurne handed me a cup of hot moon tea. "I will not ask why you seek it... however, I wish to say that all life is precious."

I looked at him. "Go on."

"If it were Lady Delena who drank moon tea after her affair with your father... I would have never had the pleasure of teaching you, nor would Lord Renly have or even Ser Cortnay. The Realm would be a far different place, a pit of chaos... without a doubt." Maester Jurne lowered his head. "As I see it, moon tea is worse than the killing of children, for you do not even allow them to see the light of day."

"Is being born a bastard any better?" I questioned.

"You are the King, Your Grace... your word is law. If you wish for someone to live in luxury, it shall be so." He lowered his head as I kept looking at him. "Forgive me, I have said too much."

"No... it's fine. I find your words insightful, maester." I managed a smile. "Thank you."

"It is my pleasure to serve you, Your Grace."

After a solemn bow, he left.

I turned my eyes to the moon tea, watching it sway. I imagined what could be...

A girl, with long brown curls and shimmering blue eyes. She was little and truly adorable, a bundle of joy that one would wish to embrace. Her smile was sweeter than all else in the frozen world around her. Ice and snow melted at her feet as a purple-gold rose grew from the ground.

She offered it to me and I imagined myself taking it.

"You wouldn't ever hurt me, would you... father?" She tilted her head slightly, her smile fading slowly.

The word father struck a cord... 

"... No." I shook my head, managing a smile. "You are my family... I will always protect you."

She smiled once more, nodding, before throwing herself into my embrace.

"I love you, daddy."

The illusion broke as I gathered myself. It seemed so real, far too real. Was it a green dream? Even if it wasn't a matter of prophecy, the meaning behind it remained the same....

'That love... is undeserved.'

I took a deep breath, turning back to the moon tea. 

'Grow up...'

I told myself, turning away from the moon tea. It was the coward's way out, a boy's way of running from the consequences of his actions. I'll face them when they come.

I left the room and saw Maester Jurne smile slightly, nodding.

"Leave it for someone who needs it, maester."

~

[3rd Person]

In the main yard of Storm's End.

"This is the master-at-arms of Storm's End, Ser Davis." 

Edric presented him to his three squires. There were others on the sidelines, including his Kingsguard, the Hound, Brienne, Garland Tyrell, Oberyn Martell and others.

"A brilliant knight and an even better teacher. He taught myself, Ser Loras, Ser Arthur, Ser Robert, Brienne and most of the other highborn of Storm's End." Edric smiled, looking at his squires. "One should strive to learn from various great teachers, rather than a single one. That is why he shall be instructing you lot today and for the rest of our stay in Storm's End. I hope to see some improvement by the end."

"Yes, Your Grace." 

All three nodded dutifully, even Dickon Tarly, who admired Edric greatly for his martial prowess—as did his father. To him, Edric's words were like holy scripture.

"Good." Edric nodded, turning to Ser Davis with a slight smile. "I hope three more boys is not too much."

"You honour me greatly, Your Grace." He nodded. "The more the merrier, I say. In this time, I will teach what I can."

"Mn, good."

Edric turned to the rest of his company, mostly looking at Robert, Brienne and Arthur. The only one missing was Loras, who was asleep. "This does bring me back... hm. Should we do a few duels?"

"Sounds like fun." Robert grinned slightly, glancing at Arthur. "I'd like to see just how brilliant the new Kingsguard are."

"Be my guest." I chuckled, turning to Arthur. "Go on, put Robert on his ass. First blood wins."

"I'm not that much of a pushover, surely." Robert smiled, shaking his head.

Arthur drew an ordinary steel longsword, and so did Robert. Robert was taking a more defensive approach, waiting for Arthur to strike first. 

"You were always the kind to come at me first... what unmans you so greatly now, Ser Robert?" Arthur taunted him.

"What can I say?" He chuckled. "That shiny white cloak is quite intimidating. Only the seven greatest knights in all the Realm have that honour, no?"

"... Aye." Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly as he edged forward.

He threw a lightning-fast pierce, to which Robert moved his sword to deflect... only for it to be a feint. Arthur twisted his sword and slashed Robert's arm so precisely that only the slightest of cuts emerged. Robert gasped, stepping back as he observed the cut in his garment.

"... So swift," Robert said, blinking as if he were confused. "I thought I had improved, but... you made me look like a fool."

"Don't sweat it too much." Edric smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "Arthur does nothing more than guard me, sleep, eat and train the sword. He breathes swordsmanship every moment of the day. I'm quite sure that's all he does in his dreams, too."

"Heh..." Arthur chuckled. "Aye, that might be true."

"Living up to your name, Ser Arthur the Second." Robert smiled, taking a deep breath. "However, no true fight is to first blood. I'd like another chance... but with full plate."

"Sure."

While Robert aimed to make the second duel a brawl, Arthur kept his distance and used the half-sword technique to continuously whack his helmet with the pommel. Eventually, Robert got thrown to the ground and yielded. 

After that, Edric had Robert fight Ser Balon and Mandon... both of whom beat him rather easily with blunted weapons. Then he made Robert fight Brienne, who also bested him. 

"Robert, would you like to face me next?" Edric tilted his head slightly. "Mayhaps the Hound, or Ser Arys..."

"I'd rather not, Your Grace." Robert chuckled, shaking his head. "It would be a slaughter. I am already... quite tired."

"Fair enough." Edric shrugged. "I would like to see you fight next, Brienne."

"As you wish, Your Grace."

Though she lost more than half of her duels, she stood nearly on equal footing with most of the Kingsguard, who had been trained quite rigorously. Edric observed her carefully, smiling at each of her victories. Some people were impressed by her show of ability, though others denounced her as a freak in low tones.

After that, he started matching up the Kingsguard against each other and had them continue training.

Meanwhile, leaned against the wall in the shade with Brienne.

"If I recall correctly, you were not in the fighting against the Lannisters, nor the Ironborn, even though your lord father answered the call to war... why is that?"

"My father forbid me from going," Brienne answered honestly, shaking her head. "I wished nothing more than to fight by your side, shield you in battle and slay those who would harm you, but..."

"Your father, huh?" Edric smiled slightly. "If you wish to still do so, I will permit it myself. You need only..."

"..." She bent the knee at his feet, presenting her sword. "I would wish for nothing more, Your Grace."

"Well... that was quick." Edric blinked with a cheerful expression. "Brienne... you made a habit of protecting me in my youth. I have most certainly not outgrown your shield yet. If you wish to grant me your sword... I will take it gladly."

She looked up, her blue eyes shimmering as she met Edric's gaze. She couldn't keep herself from smiling as he bid her to rise in his direct service. To be a King's sworn shield was not so far from being a Kingsguard and an honour even most knights could not reach. This triumphant feeling was only bolstered by her opinion of said King, who had treated her well and accepted who she was.

...

After finishing his physical training, Edric delved further into magic and focused mainly on skinchanging as his falcon. He soared around the nearby lands, observing his village from afar. He tried to expand his abilities further by changing into other animals but could not do so.

The following day, he rode out to his village with a smaller royal entourage. The village had grown considerably in his absence, primarily due to its prestige as the King's first holding and Edric's allocating some of his funds to it. 

"The King has returned!"

The entire village gathered and knelt before his presence. He got off and looked around with a proud smile, his black hair waving with the strong wind. This... had once been his dream. Even though it was so small, he did not frown upon it. 

"Rise, all of you." Edric kept his smile. "Do not treat me as a stranger just because I have a crown on my head now."

Chapter 45: Plucked Rose

Edric suddenly rose and pushed Margaery down beneath him. His shimmering blue eyes looked into hers for a long moment. Her face flushed a slight cherry red by the unexpected act.

He raised his hands and grasped hers, locking them above her head. 

“Tonight, I don't want us to ride to the North or Dorne, nor anywhere else. No… not at all.” Edric paused, his lips turning into a grin. “I want to mount you, Margaery. Like a beautiful rose that's been waiting arm’s reach for too long, I wish to pluck you from the earth and take you for myself.”

Her heart quickened, beating wildly as she remained trapped under Edric’s immensely strong figure. Three Margaerys couldn't match him, let alone one. Her lips curled into an innocent yet enthralling smile.

“Is that so…?” She tilted her head slightly. “I didn't think you'd be so bold, Your Grace. Nor so… mischievous-”

“You think I wouldn't dare?” Edric had lowered his head and whispered into her ear. “Always lingering around me… speaking such sweet little words, praising me and trying to draw my attention at every turn. Well, now you have it….”

“It's all rather sudden…” Margaery acted shy, glancing away. 

“If you are not as daring as I, just say the word, and I’ll let you break free.”

“How could I deny you, my sweet King?” She pursed her lips, gazing into his eyes. “If it is your wish… then I am yours. You can do as you like with me.”

“As I like, huh? ” Edric grinned slightly. “I ought to punish you for being so insistent on tempting me, day to day…”

He lowered his hands and firmly grasped her head, pressing his lips against hers. As he continued pressing the sttack, Margaery reciprocated this act, slipping her tongue inside of his mouth. His eyes widened slightly as she began french kissing. This… only fueled the flame in his heart further.

Their snog lasted quite some time, as Edric’s passion seemed as endless as his bloodlust. He had slipped his hand beneath the top of her dress, grasping one of her breasts while he kissed her neck. Then, he whispered softly yet with an aura of authority:

“You belong to me… and only me.”

Margaery blushed as Edric’s eyes flashed a luminous violet purple.

“I shall give you a crown of white tonight, sweet Margaery.”

…

“Oooooh, yes… GODS, yes!” Margaery screamed from inside the bedchamber, her pleasure echoing in the hallway. “Just like that, my mighty King… just like th… ahhhh~”

Loras took a deep breath as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Though it was for duty and their family, the whole standing guard while your beloved sister was getting her back blown out was more awkward than he imagined it to be. 

Not only that, but they were also supremely loud… and didn't stop—not for a long, long time.

Minutes turned to half an hour, half an hour turned whole… 

Over an hour, their dance lasted. By then, all he heard was thunderous humping sounds and distant mumbling by Margaery. He could only imagine how hard and rough a powerful young man like Edric could be. His stamina, as well… he had seen it all on the field countless times before. 

Loras bit his tongue, sighing.

His mind turned to what Edric had been in his youth, no more than a bastard with a wild temperament and hardly any friends. He could've never imagined back that little brat would be having his way with Margaery… but here he was, King, and someone even he had grown to admire. The way he soared, year by year, and took the Seven Kingdoms by storm…

It was impressive, without a doubt. Loras had even found himself strangely fond of the white cloak and the brotherhood that came with it.

Eventually, the door creaked open, and a weary Margaery slowly stepped out - holding onto the wall. Parts of her dress were very clearly torn, her hair was a tangled mess, and her skin looked awfully slimy. 

“... Are you alright?” Loras blinked as Margaery fell into him. He had never seen her look so much a mess. 

“I… am tired, is all.” Margaery smiled slightly. “Edric… he had almost bedridden me.”

“Did he… hurt you?” Loras questioned with a concerned tone.

“He was rough, I suppose…” Margaery chuckled, her eyes looking dreamy as if she was someplace else. “But… I did enjoy it. Quite a lot, in truth.”

“Half of Storm’s End heard you.” Loras tilted his head slightly as he looked at her. “I thought you were doing so intentionally…”

“No, I did not have to act.” She chuckled. “Edric is a Baratheon, and they are known for their passion and virility. I'm not even sure who seduced who, in truth. Gods, he did not stop… going on and on. The moment he finished, he was ready again. You would think that he would be more tired with all the wine he had drank, but no…”

“If so…” Loras paused, changing the subject slightly. “Would that mean that you will have his first child?”

“He covered me in his seed from head to toe and flooded my womb.” Margaery chuckled, slowly nodding. “I made sure to make the most of it. If it is any bit fertile, then there is no doubt…”

“A resounding success, then,” Loras remarked. “Edric is not his father; I am most certain he will take responsibility. This will bind you together.”

“We will have to see.” Margaery looked at him. “I… don’t think that I will be able to go far on my own.”

“Let me carry you.”

“No, you have your duty as a Kingsguard…” 

“Who would harm Edric in Storm’s End, of all places? It would only be a few minutes.”

“... I think it’s better if I return to my lover’s embrace and keep him company.” Margaery smiled, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about anything except guarding the door.”

She turned away and returned to Edric’s bedchamber.

‘Is it more duty or pleasure?’ 

He wondered.

~

Across the world.

Daenerys came to know almost everything there was to know about Edric. His childhood in Storm’s End, how he won his goldenheart bow, dominated the melee in the Hand’s Tourney, was knighted by Jaime Lannister and became the youngest knight in history, his legitimisation by Robert and how he swiftly departed from King’s Landing afterwards…

“Wouldn’t that be any bastard’s wish?” Daenerys questioned, raising an eyebrow. “To be a prince?”

“Aye, for most boys, it would… but Edric loved his lady more than the name he had been given. He was willing to forsake it all for her.” Barristan sighed, shaking his head. “What followed… was a great tragedy…”

Daenerys didn’t interrupt, listening rather keenly.

“They say the great storm moved south-east and sank her ship. Edric would return not too long after, once the Hand’s Tournament had already ended.” Barristan lowered his gaze. “He… was not the same. He entered the great hall and put a knife to Joffrey’s throat after he had mocked him, forcing him to address him as Edric Storm.”

“He drank more than his fill, having to be carried away by Lord Renly and several others. Not soon after, another great storm would erupt, and Edric would rest for nearly a month.”

“Rest…?”

“Many thought that he had died, in truth. Alas, his heart remained beating throughout it all…” Barristan paused. “When he woke, it was as if he had been reborn. He took to his duties sternly and sent for his uncle Stannis while joining his father’s hunt.”

He continued on, speaking of the way he pulled the rug from under the Lannisters and heroically fought in King’s Landing. He would speak of his part in the Lannister rebellion, how he had killed hundreds with arrows alone, took command, and avoided a prolonged siege in the Golden Tooth by simply terrifying all of the defenders. He would proceed to the execution of Tywin Lannister and later the mercy of Jaime Lannister, culminating with Tyrion and Kevan bending the knee.

Then, the invasion of the Iron Isles with the fleets of the Westerlands and Reach… which was another resounding success where Edric hadn’t lost a single battle and thoroughly crushed his opposition.

Finally, he ended at Edric’s entire small council dismissing his wishes which lead to him taking matters into his own hands.

“So… he sent you here on the knowledge that I have three dragons?” Daenerys questioned, raising an eyebrow. “What were his intentions behind this?”

“I believed he wished for you to return home and rectify his father’s actions as best he could,” Barristan said, looking at Daenerys. “He wishes to honour the legacy of House Targaryen, whose Kings forged the Realm.”

“And not because he was terrified of the dragons he dreamed of?” Daenerys tilted her head.

“I cannot speak on his thoughts… but, if he truly were afraid, he would have most certainly sent men to kill you.”

“Hm…” Daenerys’ eyes observed the aged Kingsguard. “If he truly wishes to honour the legacy of the House of the Dragon, he should give me the throne that is rightfully mine. He could serve me, as the Baratheons of the past served their Kings. Or has a taste of true power made him unable to give it up?”

“I do not believe His Grace would set aside his crown.”

“... It’s a shame,” Daenerys remarked, thinking of Barristan’s retelling. Edric was much like the heroes she loved hearing and reading about in her youth. Only that instead of ending happily ever after, his love ended in tragedy. “He sounds like a remarkable person who should have never been King. He is better fit a knight.”

“He has the makings of a great King,” Barristan contested. “I do not believe he wears the crown for power. He rules for the Realm… he rules because it is his duty, not because of any selfish desire. He is the person the Realm rallies behind, not Renly, Stannis, nor anyone else… he is the one keeping it all together. In my mind, bar any accidents; he shall be the greatest King I’ve ever served.”

Daenerys frowned at that statement.

“I have much to think about, Ser Barristan. I shall see you at a later date.”

She thought of the dream she had earlier. That figure… it hadn’t been the Usurper, no. It was Edric Storm. The polarizing King who, despite learning quite a bit about, remained a mystery. Not even his Kingsguard knew his truest intentions. 

She wondered if he wanted more than just for her to return home… perhaps he had desired to make her his queen. Why else would he go so far as to send the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard? The thought was amusing to her if anything else.

He would make a worthy husband if all Barristan had said were true, without a doubt. Perhaps the most worthy man in all of the known world.

Alas… she had not gone this far to be a mere queen consort. She was of the Blood of the Dragon, the last Targaryen and mother of three dragons. If he did not submit to her will, she would have to serve him fire as Aegon did to his opposition.

Or so, that was her thinking at that time…

~

I was holding something soft in my arms. Hm… it smelt strange. I moved my head closer and felt hair.

‘Hold on…’

I opened my eyes and took a moment to process the scene before me. My arms weren’t wrapped around an imaginary pillow or my sheets, no. They were wrapped around a lady.

Not just any lady, however… it was bloody Margaery Tyrell, the Rose of Highgarden, whose maidenhood is beyond priceless.

… And I’m pretty sure drunk me had just taken it and her honour along with it.

‘Fuck me. Not even Robert would be so daring…’

Barbarian's Path To Multiversal Domination Chapter 6: The First Blossoms Of Love

{New Epithets gained.}

[The Antifaith E+ —Killing religious figures leads to an increase in parameters, depending on their importance and number.]

[One-Man Army D—Whenever you face a force of more than a thousand alone, your endurance and recovery are increased.]

[Coast To Coast D+ —Long-distance travelling with a set goal is far more effective with increased speed and stamina.]

[Dancing With Death C- —Fighting while naked grants one increased battle instincts and proficiency.]

[Kingslayer D — Damage resistance against any ruling figure is increased.]

{Upgrades to current Epithets…}

[Madness Enhancement E+ → D++. Your bloodlust has been further intensified, granting an even greater increase in parameters.]

• New perk gained under Madness Enhancement {Unrelenting}. The greater the resistance to your attack and the more persistent you are, the more your parameters and madness rise.]

[Demon of The Trident E+ → D+. The bloodletting of others gives a greater recovery speed.]

• New perk gained under Demon of The Trident {Unburnt}. Significantly increased fire resistance while wet.

{Spoils of War}

• Blackfyre

• Balerion the Black Dread

…

Six years ago…

Being from a wealthy and protective family, Grace spent her school days in an all-girls private school. This was very much the opposite of what she wanted, of course. She always had a creative mind that longed for fantasy… which mainly leaned on romance. Alas, circumstances denied her the ‘perfect’ school love, where she could date a popular, handsome guy who matched her, and they could spend all their breaks together—doing homework or… other things. They would be the ideal power couple, taking over the school as Queen and King.

Alas… there was no King in her school. Nor a single guy, for that matter.

Even so, Grace thrived. She was a growing beauty, a natural charmer, athletic, highly intelligent and resourceful. All of her fellow students either admired and gravitated to her or hated her out of sheer envy. Hell, more than half the school would turn lesbian for her. She was, indeed, the Queen.

One day, she convinced her parents to go out with a girlfriend. Given this rare opportunity, Grace made the most of it. She hung out with her friend, visited her house, ate out, and then went to the park.

It was the peak of winter, cold as could be… so the day was quite short. Before she knew it, the sky grew dark as they used the swings. 

“We should go home.” Jeyne, her friend, remarked - rubbing her feet against the ground and stopping her swing. “My parents wouldn’t want me to be about this late.”

“It’s 4PM…” Grace chuckled, raising an eyebrow as she continued to swing.

“And it’s dark.” Jeyne countered. “Bad things happen in the dark.”

“Stop being a baby.” Grace smiled confidently. “Nothing will happen, don’t you worry.”

As if she had summoned a bad omen, four boys who were roughly three years older approached a few minutes later.

“These are our swings, ladies. Shoo innit.” One of them made a gesture, waving them away. 

“Sure… we’ll go.” Jeyne, anxious already, was quite happy about that.

“We were here first.” Grace countered.

“We've got a little alpha girl here,” one of the tallest members chuckled.

“Nah, that blonde is kinda peng…” Another grinned slightly. “She can stay.”

“She looks like a Year Nine… you’re nasty, Max.” The shortest, who was only a little taller than Grace, remarked. He was like a midget compared to the rest.

“The gap is like… three years? It’s not that deep.” Max shrugged. “Don’t be jealous that you can’t pull any girls, Shortmanz.”

The tallest grabbed Grace’s swing by one of its metal chains, pulling it to a stop. He then flipped over her fur hood, and his eyes widened.

“Wow… nah, you man can fuck the grass. This girl is mine.”

“Fuck off, Alfred.” Max raised an eyebrow. “I want her.”

“You can fight me for it, then.”

“Let’s not fight over some little girl.” Christian, the conciliator of the group, stepped between them. “We came here to chill, remember?”

“Let go of my swing, asshole.” Grace frowned, trying to take his hand off.

“She got more fight than you do, Christ.” Alfred laughed. “Shortmanz, make sure she doesn’t run off. I’m going to batter Max real quick.”

“Batter me? Yeah, right.”

In the confusion, Jeyne had scuttled away while Grace was stuck under the watchful eye of a young man. She realised the danger of the situation and tried to run, but Shortmanz ran after her. Her large coat was rather restrictive in terms of movement, however, and Shortmanz managed to catch up and tackle her. Afterwards, he forced her up by the arm.

“Don’t give me trouble, you dumb slag.”

“You’re the one who’s dumb.” Grace protested. “You’re the joke of your own group. Shortmanz… they only keep you around to have someone to make fun of.”

“...” Shortmanz frowned, raising his hand. He slapped her. “Shut up. I’m not a joke.”

“Yes… you are.” Grace chuckled. “A short fucking joke. If you were a real man, they would respect you… but you’re not. All you can do is hit girls.”

Suddenly, Shortmanz face froze as he let go of Grace. He slowly stepped back, leading to her raising an eyebrow. What made him shit his pants?

“D…D…”

He turned around and ran for his life. Grace slowly turned behind her, seeing a black flash. Before she knew it, he passed her and hounded down Shortmanz, leaping into the air and extending a leg.

BANG.

His drop-kick sent Shortmanz headfirst into the rocky walkway, smashing his face down and cutting most of it.

The sight had been engraved into her heart.

A boy younger than her, yet dashingly tall. His jet black hair was wild, an inch longer than his broad shoulders. His body was rather muscular for his age, and he had an aura of dominating strength that most men could only dream of. 

“Shorty…” He stomped Shortmanz head with a bored look. “Why’d you get so scared? I just wanted to hug you for old time's sake."

“Dennis… HELP!” Shortmanz cried out as loudly as he could, alerting the other three.

"Oh, Dennis is helping." Dennis chuckled, stomping on him again.

They immediately stopped their scuffle and turned to him. 

“So that's how it is...” Dennis let go, kicking him away and turning to the other three. “Maybe Freddy Fazbear, Max Pain and Jesus Christ will give me more of a fight.”

He stepped forward to meet them. 

Even though Grace could’ve most certainly turned tail and ran… her heart bid her to remain. It was like a fairytale of sorts, a dashing knight in shining armour charges in to save the beautiful damsel in distress. Except, this shining knight was a boy in black-and-white Adidas shorts, a plain sleeveless black-and-white Puma shirt and black Nike Air Forces, which looked like they had seen far better days. 

His fit would make any brand loyalist want to bury themselves in anger.

“Still around, huh…” Alfred chuckled. “You haven’t gotten expelled yet?”

“Loosely hanging on, day by day,” Dennis replied, grinning slightly. “Since you guys graduated and ran away, no one wants to fight me anymore. School is more dead than your hairline these days.”

“Lucky for you, then.” Alfred crunched his knuckles. “We’ve all been going to a boxing club, training hard, and that. The only reason you beat us before was that we didn’t know how to fight. Now… it’s different.”

“Is it?” Dennis chuckled. “You lads hit the pads a little? Gave it a nice, soft, touch?"

“More than little, Denny.” Max added. “We’ve been sparring.”

“Ooooh… sparring.” Dennis almost looked curious. “What club?”

“Alexander Boxing Club.”

“Pfft…” Dennis laughed. “Hahahahahahahahahahaha…”

“What’s so funny?”

“Man like Alexander Boxing Club… that’s where all the fancy mancy pussies go.” Dennis clenched his fists as he raised them. “The hardest part of training there is making sure you got nice and pretty boxing shorts.”

“We’ll see…” Alfred countered. “Since you’re so good, we’ll fight you all at once.”

“That’s the only way you shitters stand a chance against me."

The next thing Grace saw was Dennis pummelling all three of them like there was no tomorrow. It was like seeing poetry in motion, except Dennis' words were his lethal blows. He weaved and danced around them, countering with lethal force. Kicks, punches, headbutts, elbows, wrestling… 

However, it was still three against one and Dennis, for all his might, was still less developed than the older boys.

They managed to lock him down, with two holding down his arms and the other continuously punching him. 

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Grace watched in horror as Dennis took hit after hit for what felt like an eternity. She slowly stepped forward, holding her hands close to her heart. 

"Stop it..." She spoke out, leading to the three of them pausing. "He's lost already, just let him go."

"... Keep hitting him, Alfred." Max frowned. "You know what will happen if Dennis gets up."

"That's right..." Dennis grinned wide. "Keep those punches coming, Freddy."

"..." Alfred paused, feeling unsettled.

There was something absolutely frightening about fighting him… the more you hit Dennis, the more excited he got. And the more excited he got… well…

The other three young men just weren’t built the same.

Alfred tried to punch him again, but Dennis shifted his head and bit into his wrist.

"What the FUCK!" Alfred screamed out, stepping away in horror. "I'm bleeding... I'm bleeding!"

"Big deal."

He proceeded to headbutt the one holding his right arm… and then punched the soul out of the one to his left. Once he was free, the rest was history.

"The fun starts now." Dennis chuckled, spitting out Alfred's blood.

While he laughed madly, they screamed in terror.

…

After a minute, they had all turned tail and ran for their lives in separate directions. Dennis stood still, his face full of grazes and bruises. However, he didn’t look in pain—he seemed to take joy in it. His only show of dismay was when it was all over, and he stood as the decisive victor.

Grace slowly approached him, trying to settle down her rapidly beating heart.

“Are you alright?” 

“...” Dennis slowly turned to face her. “I didn’t fight them for you.”

“... I never said you did.” Grace chuckled, nervously fixing her hair. “It’s just that… what you did was really cool, you know. What year are you in?”

“Year 8,” Dennis replied bluntly, spitting his blood onto the ground. 

“What school do you go to?”

“None of your business.” 

“...” Grace bit her lip as she felt her confidence fade. Weren’t those other boys head over heels? What’s the deal with him… “Well… are you single?”

“No, I'm married to fighting." He walked ahead of her.

"Is that a joke?" Grace chuckled, following after him.

Dennis kept walking, ignoring her.

"My name's Grace, by the way. What's your name?"

"Buster Himen."

"Bust-her-himen?" Grace laughed. "You know, for someone trying to ignore me, you're pretty funny."

"Get off my dick. Fuck off." Dennis glanced back. "Do I need to say it in Spanish?"

"Maybe. My English isn't very good." Grace shrugged, smiling.

Dennis rolled his eyes, walking faster until Grace had to jog to keep up. His Spanish grade was among the worst... and no, he didn't know how to say it in Spanish.

"If I walk alone, what's to stop the same thing happening? Since you're the hero who saved me, you're supposed to finish the job and escort me home safely."

"... I'm not your daddy." 

"Not yet, you're not."

"What?" Dennis suddenly stopped, raising an eyebrow as he turned to face her.

"What?" Grace looked clueless. "I could... give you a kiss on the cheek or something."

"Kiss yourself." Dennis didn't look interested.

"What about on the lips?" She doubled down.

"On my dick."

"... That's a bit much." Grace remarked, pouting slightly. "Your mother must've not been doing a very good job raising you. I mean, what kind of gentleman are you?"

"Breaking news..." Dennis shrugged. "I'm not."

"Please..." She grabbed his hand, her emerald eyes shimmering as she changed her point of attack. "I need you."

"And home needs me more."

"... What about some money?"

"Money?" Dennis' expression suddenly changed. "How much?"

"Uh... I don't know. Like £500?"

"Eight-three Big Box Meals..." Dennis licked his lips as his brain suddenly functioned at 100%. "I could eat like a King..."

"... So..."

"Deal." Dennis firmly nodded. "Let's get going. I'm hungry already."

"By the way, why are you wearing so little in this weather? Aren't you cold?"

"Cold?" Dennis scoffed. "This is a Russian summer."

With Dennis as an escort, she couldn't feel safer. The walk home was smooth as ever. When she got back, she kept her word and rewarded him with part of her allowance.

"Half a grand..." Dennis filled up his wallet with the cash notes. It hadn't ever felt so fat. "Fuck me, you're rich."

"Well, yeah..." Grace pouted slightly. "And you're a big gold digger."

"Gold digger?" Dennis blinked. "I guess. See you around."

"... Wait." Grace grabbed his sleeve as he turned around. "Don't you want my number?"

"Nah." Dennis shrugged her off. "This is a one-time thing."

"Wow... you got your money, and now you're just going to run off?"

"I didn't get paid to be your boyfriend."

As Dennis strode off, Grace felt all the more determined. Though he didn't have the qualities she thought she wanted, there was something about him...

His strength, confidence, the way her charms left him unfazed... the way he made her feel. No, he wasn't a knight in shining armour. He was the black knight who slew the dragon for sport and freed the princess in the process...

After that, the princess would relentlessly work towards making this knight hers.

~

The present.

Dennis woke in Grace's lap, who was sipping on a milkshake while watching anime on her massive TV in the living room. It was a beautiful sight, one that he found strangely more calming than usual. He didn't feel as restless.

"My Pookie Bear is finally awake." Grace smiled, pinching his nose. "Had enough battles for a lifetime?"

"A lifetime? Nah... just today." Dennis glanced to the side and observed what she was watching. "Some anime shit?"

"It's the Battle of the Gods movie... and I'm rewatching it," Grace replied, shrugging her shoulders. "It's pretty good. I think even you'd like it - especially since it's all about fighting."

"... Sure."

Over an hour later...

Dennis hadn't said anything, his eyes glued to the screen.

"I WILL NOT LET YOU DESTROY MY WOOOORLD!"

The banger OST came in, and Dennis felt strangely hyped as he witnessed the determined Super Saiyan break free from his shackles. He took the God of Destruction into the skies and started exchanging blows - some of which landed. They continued out into space, where Goku finished his burst of power with a mighty super kamehameha.

"... I want to be there," Dennis remarked, his naturally hazel eyes glowing golden.

"You're nowhere near that level..." Grace countered, chuckling. "You'd get obliterated in an instant."

"Not now... but I will get there."

Dennis's determination only grew, and so did his ambitions. 

"Hm..." Grace smiled sweetly, stroking his hair. "Of course you will, Dennis. Your destiny is to be the strongest."

Raiden's Storm Chapter 44: Back Home

I looked at my welcoming party keenly, scanning past every individual. There were plenty of highborn, and I knew all of them: the ladies who once pretended that I didn’t exist or offered me rotten fruits (which was pretty funny, looking back), the little lords who looked down on me and whose approval I gained overtime, the knights whom I sought to learn from, Maester Jurne, who educated me, Ser Davis, who instructed me in martial affairs, and Cortnay Penrose, who was my guardian.

On this day, they all knelt to me.

I noticed a familiar face, who almost seemed like a stranger. Proud and tall, he knelt. A man-grown he was now, in blue-gold velvet coloured after his house colours with a budding beard. An old rival and friend, Robert Buckler. By his side knelt the same pretty blonde-haired and blue-eyed lady who my drunk self had stolen a kiss from.

Did they get married?

I only gave her a glance, smiling at Robert.

‘Good on you, buddy.’

“I won’t have you kneeling all day long, old man.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Everyone rise.”

“When you left Storm’s End, you were but a budding young man but you’ve returned as imposing as your father once was.” Courtnay Penrose remarked with a smile. “I am no longer worthy of being your guardian, Your Grace.”

“Unworthy? You are anything but unworthy, Ser. A lot of what I’ve accomplished can be attributed to your splendid teaching.”

“You’ve learned the art of flattery, eh.” He smiled, nodding slowly. “I am honoured, truly.”

“Let’s not spend more time in this cavern…” I glanced back. “My companions and I are rather hungry. Me being the hungriest of all.”

“I see.” Courtney Penrose nodded with a smile. “I would not have it said that I allowed the King to starve.”

“That would be treason of the highest order.” I jested.

“Aye…” He chuckled. “It would be.”

...

It was strange to sit at the highest seat in Storm's End's main hall, for it had always been Renly's or Cortnay's in his absence. My table was full of my companions, the Tyrells, Martells, and Starks. It was lively, to say the least—it always was with the Martells around.

I was particularly hungry, attacking almost every dish like a deprived man who hadn't seen food for three days.

"No one's going to steal your food from you, Your Grace." Robert approached with a smile, looking around. "So many prestigious individuals... I feel like a stranger."

"Don't feel intimidated, Robert." I looked up, chuckling. "What have you been up to?"

"Can't say my life has been nearly as interesting as yours. I am no King nor have the honour of being a Kingsguard." He looked at Loras and then Arthur. "However, I am a knight now."

"Oh? That's good." I smiled, nodding. "What were you doing during the war? I would've seen you in the field if you had been there."

"I was ruling my father's lands in his stead," Robert replied simply yet with a proud tone, smiling. "Protecting the land from common outlaws and the like, manging my smallfolk and seeing that order was maintained. Not nearly as glorious as leading a campaign against rebelling kingdoms, I must admit."

"An important duty nonetheless." Arthur nodded. "I am certain Bronzegate was well under your care."

"Aye..." Robert grinned slightly, glancing at Cynthea, who stood quietly beside him. "I also had the pleasure of marrying my lady love."

"Congratulations." I chuckled. "You're not maidenless anymore."

"The Gods were most kind to give me such a pleasant and beautiful wife." Robert nodded, glancing at Arya and then turning back to me. "Speaking of... is that the famed Arya Stark of Winterfell, your betrothed?"

"What of it?" Arya questioned.

"His Grace will be a lucky man." Robert smiled - a smile I found to be wry. Undoubtedly, he found it amusing that the King has a less attractive partner than he does. "So... what's that you're drinking - water?"

"Mhm." I nodded.

"That just won't do." Robert raised an eyebrow. "You come home after all this time, dressed in such fancy velvet and with a crown on your head... and you won't drink to celebrate? This is your day; why restrain yourself? You ought to loosen up, Your Grace."

"You know what happens when His Grace gets drunk." Arthur chuckled.

"All the more fun." Robert shrugged.

"The boy is right." Oberyn stroked his chin. "It's not right for everyone but the man of the hour to celebrate. Pour His Grace some wine."

"I agree." Arianne chuckled. "A little wine never hurt anyone, least of all a strong young man of your appetite, Your Grace."

"I do propose Stag's Fury..." Robert laughed. "Do you remember what happened that night? It was wild, truly."

"I don't want any Stag's Fury near me..." I chuckled, shaking my head. "Not even a drop."

"Come now, Your Grace... does a simple drink unman the greatest warrior in the land so much?" Robert questioned, raising an eyebrow. He was clearly tugging on my pride.

"... Fine." I chuckled, taking a deep breath. Why not? One night wouldn't hurt - as long as I don't overdo it. "But you first."

"Fair play."

I forgot the strange taste of Stag's fury, bitter at first yet delectably sweet afterwards. When you had some, you'd only want more. One cup turned into three, and three turned into seven...

...

[3rd Person]

"Why do the Gods give us such blessings? Why, it's to find bliss in the beautiful world they created. They give us the ripest of fruits, the warmest of summers, the most fulfilling of wines... there is beauty everywhere one looks, even on the darkest of days."

Edric spoke to the main hall, feeling especially talkative. He had his share of Stag's Fury, which was famed for its strength when it came to wines.

"A toast... the seventh... to our Gods!"

"To the Gods!"

The hall cheered and joined in, drinking alongside him. The feast continued with a dance, and Edric was not shy in the least—quite the opposite, in fact. He danced with every lady that met his fancy, which was quite a number that night.

"For someone who's drunk his fair share, you dance quite well," Arianne remarked with a seductive smile, realising that he was looking down. "Don't lose focus now."

"I have two good reasons to." Edric grinned slightly, spinning her around. "You're playing a dangerous game, little princess. Lingering around a stag only means there is a greater chance that you might get poked by an antler."

"Is that so?" Arianne smiled, lowering her tone so that only he could hear. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked down. "I wonder, are you as grown down there as you are everywhere else?"

"Wouldn't you like to find out?"

"Oh, I will." Arianne smiled knowingly. "Mayhaps sooner than you think."

"Is that so?" Edric chuckled. "You forget that it's my decision whether or not I entertain you."

"Oh, but I see how you look at me..." Arianne pursed the side of her lip. "Deep down, you know what you want. The man, the conqueror, in you seeks to grab hold of me and do as he likes. The boy... he thinks of duty and honour, whose dry kisses have left you with so little pleasure in life. A King should do as he likes-"

"... Hmph." Edric chuckled, slipping his hand to firmly grasp one of her breasts. "You're absolutely right."

"Oh..." Arianne's eyes widened for a moment. She practically froze in place as her lips curled into a smile.

"They're rather smooth..." Edric observed, letting go. "Mayhaps I should have you massage me when I am tired."

"... Of course... you need only say the word, Your Grace." Arianne nodded after recovering from her daze, winking. "I dutifully serve at your pleasure."

"Dutifully..." Edric remarked, laughing as he walked away.

Margaery observed the sight with a slight smile, even though she was burning on the inside. As for Arya, she made her displeasure more apparent with a wolf-like stare aimed at the far more womanly Arianne. If stares could kill, Arianne would be mince meat. As for Sansa, she looked at herself and wondered if that was his type...

When Edric was done playing around, he was chilling with the boys.

"I am Dalog, son of Dalog." Edric mimicked one of the mountain clansmen he had fought: "I like Big Boy Warhammer. I kill Big Boy and take his hammer."

"So, what - you smashed his head in?" Robert chuckled.

"No, I dropped it to the floor and let him pick it up." Edric smiled. "I told him he could have it if he could raise it with a single hand."

"Well... did he?"

"One hand? Dalog can pick it up with his little finger!" Edric returned to his impersonation, reaching down to grab his warhammer with one hand. "Uuuugh... AUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHH... Dalog strong... Dalog can do this, Dalog can lift hammer!"

Robert burst out laughing as Edric's face turned red.

"AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHH!"

Edric raised the hammer, acting as if the force was too much and collapsing to the ground.

"BANG!"

Lightning struck in the distance and shook everyone up. Edric got up, laughing.

"I struck him with lightning as he fell to the ground. Clearly, Dalog, son of Dalog, was not worthy of wielding my warhammer."

"Aye... only one person is!" Robert nodded, patting his shoulder. "King Edric Storm, Lord Protector of Hammers."

After spending the entire night partying, the guards were the only people who weren't wasted. Edric stumbled his way into his old bedchamber, which was in no way fit for a King. However, he was fond of it and refused any other quarters.

"Man..." He sat on the floor before his bed. Raiden Shogun floated in front of him. He glanced to the side and waved his lowered hand. "Shoo..."

"You should sleep."

Edric raised his hands and cupped his face. He proceeded to rub his face for a time before lowering his hands. Raiden was still staring at him. After a deep breath, he raised himself up and fell headfirst into his bed.

Some time would pass...

The door creaked open and Edric slowly opened his eyes, glancing to the side.

"Who dares trespass my domain?" He jested, turning to see Margaery in a lavish dress fit only for the highest of ladies. "Oh... are we making a bastard tonight?"

Margaery blushed sweetly, turning away. "I don't believe so..."

"Uh-huh." Edric chuckled. "Forgive me for my vulgarities... I am rather drunk."

"I take no offence to it, Your Grace." She stepped closer. "May I sit?"

"Make yourself comfortable." Edric tilted his head slightly. "I assume it was your brother who let you in."

"Mhm... the night is dangerous for any drunk King."

"And you're keeping me safe?" Edric raised an eyebrow.

"More or less." Margaery smiled, tilting her head as she looked into his eyes. "Who knows what terrible lady would take advantage of you?"

"Ah... indeed." Edric chuckled. "Alas, it might be too late... one of those ladies has already infiltrated my bedchamber."

"I only mean well, Your Grace. I wouldn't do anything against your wishes."

"Is that so..." Edric smiled slightly. "I'd like you to comfort me."

In time, Edric rested his head on her lap as she stroked his black hair and sang to him. He felt at ease, like a cube of ice melting away into a hot spring. For a time, he wanted to imagine that he hadn't been King... but an ordinary person in the embrace of his significant other.

"If I was not the King, would you still be by my side?"

He questioned, even though the answer was clear to him.

"... Of course," Margaery answered, smiling oh so sweetly as she raised one of his hands and held it against her face. "How could I deny the hero who has captured my heart? You are my true knight, crown or not. I would ride with you anywhere, from Dorne to the North."

"When you say such sweet words..."

Edric paused, looking up at her as his lips curled into a slight grin.

"You should be prepared to pay the price."

Raiden's Storm Chapter 43: Resignation

“Raiden…”

Edric suddenly stopped walking forward, a good distance away from the cave. She floated ahead, facing him. The two shared gazes as a conflicted light flashed in Edric’s eyes. Saying farewell to Alysanne had given him clarity... and forced himself to realise something he would instead have looked away from.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s... wrong?” Edric mused, frowning slightly. “Why am I here? Why do I have to bury someone dear to me? Did an enemy of mine kill her? Was it a beast? Did time take her away? Was it an accident...”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Yes... it was you.” Edric’s expression relaxed as he chuckled wryly. “My dearest Shogun. My greatest benefactor. The goddess who has given me strength, will, comfort and guidance in all walks of life. The woman who has breathed life into me time and time again, yet also taken it away...”

She gave no reply, though her expression was not the same one that had once confidently proclaimed that she had done it for his benefit. Rather… there was regret—not at Alysanne’s death, no—but at the consequences that came from it. She had carved a piece of Edric Storm and shattered it.

“Never once did you ask for forgiveness... no, the matter was of no consequence to you.” Edric smiled slightly. “In the end, you got what you wanted. You killed my distractions, desire for happiness and willingness to love others. You took my humanity. You made me into your puppet, and I willingly marched along blindly, no matter what it would cost me.”

“Do you know why?”

“... Because you love me.”

Raiden Shogun answered simply.

“Yes...” Edric replied, nodding slowly. “I… wanted to love you, I truly did. I wanted to overlook everything and look towards a better future. That’s what I’ve been doing until now. Hoping, wishing, praying for a good ending to all of this. Because... you were the only thing that mattered to me.”

“... But why is that?” Edric suddenly questioned. “Surely it’s not because you killed the one person who could’ve ‘driven’ me away from you...”

“Tell me... what had I ever done to betray you like you betrayed me?”

Raiden Shogun’s expression was conflicted as she found herself unable to answer. He was loyal, honest and true. His very ambitions and way of life revolved around her resurrection. Even after the matter, he became King, taking upon the heavy duty he otherwise would’ve run from.

“... Nothing.”

“She was an innocent girl. Just a normal, kind, sweet, girl… and you... struck her dead... for me.” Edric clenched his fists. “I’m weary of it. The guilt that consumes me, the blind love that binds me to you, the way I’ve been strung along...”

“It ends here and now.”

Edric removed the glove on his left hand and drew his dagger. Raiden’s eyes widened as he slashed down the middle of her insignia, forming quite the gash on the back of his hand. His expression remained firm as his blood dripped down, looking straight at her.

“I am your retainer no longer.”

He walked ahead of her, lightning sparking in his left hand as blood continued to drip down.

“When I gather my banners for the Long Night, face the Night King and ultimately triumph... it will not be because of you.” Edric paused, his black hair swaying slightly. “I will do it because it is my duty and obligation to all the friendships I’ve forged and will forge. It will be for the people who believe in me, who raise their swords and dedicate their lives in my name.”

“I will not be their deceiving tyrant, who serves only his own needs and discards them when their use is over. I will not be the man who breaks their trust, crushes their beliefs, and carelessly throws them to the wind.”

Edric’s golden Baratheon cape swayed under the heavy wind.

“I will fight for them as they fight for me. I will carry the ambitions and visions of all the good people who serve me, justly rule in their name, and give them peace and prosperity...”

“I will be their King.”

And with that... he had shattered the chains that bound his heart, freeing himself and treading upon the path of greatness that once was no more than a dream. The realisation of his true self had begun...

For what man could rule the world if he could not conquer himself?

Raiden Shogun remained still, one hand resting on her chest. She observed with a saddened expression as his figure grew more distant. What words could mellow his determination? Would seeking forgiveness do anything but fuel the fire? Not only had he released himself from her service, but he also rejected the love he once confessed...

Her dark violet hair swayed as she couldn’t find the words to put him at ease and make him turn back to her.

"Is this fate... for you to one day outgrow me?" She questioned with a low voice, glancing at the tempestuous sky. After a moment of silence, she reached out her left hand and observed it. "No... I am at fault."

"I should've let you have your way. It would've been better if your love ended on your terms - whatever the result of that would've been. You could have realised the truth of love, rather than me forcing it upon you…”

"No words I say will ever return her to life, nor do I even have the power to do anything..." She lowered her hand, sighing. "Some Shogun I am."

...

As Edric continued to walk, the clear skies grew dark, and rain poured down - something he had grown used to. If anything, it comforted him. So did the heavy wind that made the trees dance wildly, and the calm lakes surge with waves. The lightning most of all.

Suddenly, the rain froze in the air. The world around him seemed to stop entirely.

'What's this...?'

He looked up and saw a silver-haired ghost lying against a tree on a hill. It was the only tree in sight, standing tall. Edric continued walking forward and was suddenly struck with the sound of song.

"I'm tired of being what you want me to be. Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface..."

Edric recognised this song... and realised just who was singing it. There could only be one person. He quickened his pace, running up the hill and facing him. The Targaryen's lips curled into a mocking grin as he continued on.

"And every step that I take is another mistake to you..."

"What are you doing here?" Edric questioned, looking down at him.

"I-I've become so numb, I can't feel you there. I've become so tired, so much more aware. I'm becoming this... all I want to do is... be more like me and be less like you."

"Can't you see that you're smothering me?-" His singing was cut short.

Edric drew his Warhammer out of his chest, aiming to smash it right down on him.

The figure flashed forward, grabbing his warhammer midswing.

"Ah... such mercurial tempers you Baratheons possess." He chuckled, his long hair parting to reveal heavenly violet eyes. "What will you do now?"

Edric tried to push down, but the effort was futile. He didn't even budge.

"You think it's funny?" Edric questioned. "It must be fun being an omnipotent being capable of controlling all of reality. You don't have a single worry in the world. Everything is just like you want it to be-"

"Oh, believe me, it's awfully dull." The Targaryen let go, turning away. "My most amusing years were when I was mortal, climbing the steps to immortality. The trials and tribulations of my youth..."

"You... were mortal?" Edric blinked, lowering his warhammer.

"An eternity ago..." He placed his hands behind his back, looking up at the sky. "Nevertheless, you should not be nearly so anguished. You two will find a way. You are soulmates, after all."

"Is that so?"

"Yes... she made you the man you are today. You are her Storm, through and through. A most turbulent storm, true... but hers nonetheless. You cannot deny that much, even as you turn away from her. The very path you set out on... even now... was a consequence of her actions."

Edric did not reply, returning his Warhammer to the Plane of Euthymia.

"Why did you come here, Targaryen?"

"Am I not allowed to visit my little stag?" He glanced back, tilting his head slightly. "I came here with a proposal. How would you like to participate in the coming tourney at King's Landing?"

"I intend to do so regardless."

"Hm... but what man in their right mind would strike their King?" He laughed. "Even if you insist, they will not. Even if you try to attend as someone else, you couldn't possibly do so - not in King's Landing with all eyes on you. I propose to perform a little magic trick and set up a body-double during the tourney - while you participate as a mystery knight."

"... And what do you get out of it?"

"Soooo suspicious, Arthur Astley. I get to grab pizza, a soda and be entertained. Do I need more from you? Better yet, if you win the joust, I will reward you personally."

"The catch?"

His lips curled into a grin.

"The catch... you should know."

"It won't be easy?"

"Bingo!" Mr Targaryen laughed, turning to face him and grabbing his shoulder. "We're getting on the same page, you and I. As for the armour you will wear, I have prepared it for your little plane. No need for you to worry about it."

Edric looked within, only to find a full set of dragon-styled black plate armour paired with a blood-red cloak and a three-headed black dragon.

"Blackfyre..." He remarked. "Really?"

"It's beautiful, isn't it? Perfect for a bastard like you."

"..." Rather than taking offence to that, Edric's lips curled into a slight smile. "I'll take that as a compliment, dragonspawn."

"Dragonspawn..." He chuckled, slowly fading away. "You truly are Edric Baratheon now."

As he entirely disappeared, the world thawed and continued as usual. He returned to Evenfall, seeing the Kingsguard hard at training, with Arthur being the most passionate of the bunch. He took the time to clean himself off, have a few drinks to calm his mood and then encountered Sansa Stark, who was enjoying a lemon cake on a balcony overlooking the sea.

"Quite the sight..." Edric remarked, startling Sansa.

"Your Grace... I..." She turned to him, not knowing what to say. "The weather... was quite turbulent today."

"So it was." Edric nodded, stepping forward. "May I sit next to you?"

"Of course..."

She nudged to the side, giving him a place to sit on the edge.

"You've been avoiding me yet staying within my sight," Edric remarked, smiling slightly as he looked at her. "My lady, have I done something wrong?"

"No... it was me." She shook her head. "I..."

"You're acting as if it's treason to kiss a King," Edric chuckled, looking into her deep blue eyes. "Though you did take me by surprise, I hold no grudge against you. However... you did put me in a challenging position. What am I to do with your sweet kiss?"

"... Nothing." She lowered her gaze. "It was a mistake."

"Hm... I see." Edric turned away, looking at her lemon cake. "May I have some?"

She nodded, and he had a few spoonfuls.

"Mnn... this is good." Edric spoke with his mouth full, making Sansa smile slightly.

"Your Grace, it's improper to eat with your mouth full."

"Oh... I know. But who will scold me for it here, other than you?" Edric swallowed and looked into the sea, watching tides rise and fall. "Life is ever so unpredictable, hardly ever as we wish it to be... yet we keep striving to make the best out of it. Love is such a strong emotion in our lives that it drives people to do unthinkable things. You know it's wrong... yet you do it anyway - because that is what your heart desires the most."

"... Mn." Sansa slowly nodded. "If Arya knew... she'd kill me."

"Heh." Edric chuckled. "I'm sure she would. Anyway, you shouldn't be in a rush to fall in love and get married. Marriage tends to last quite a long time, you know. You'd want to make sure you're committing to the right person or you'll regret it for a lifetime."

"... Yes, Your Grace." She managed a slight smile. "I will be more patient."

"Mhm, that's good."

...

After spending a day at Tarth, Edric set sail straight for Storm's End, which was not too far from the island. When he sailed into the cavern underneath the castle, he was welcomed by the entire court. Guards gathered in an organised formation and kneeled in a line, and even a golden carpet was laid down for him.

"Welcome home, Your Grace."

Cortnay Penrose kneeled to the side with a proud smile. The boy he once knew had left as the bastard and returned as King Edric 'Storm' of House Baratheon, the First of His Name. Songs of his glory were numerous and widespread, retold a hundred times over. Now, more than ever, he was the pride of Storm's End.

"Aye..."

Edric took a deep breath, observing the nostalgic sight before him.

"I am home at last."

Barbarian's Path To Multiversal Domination Chapter 5: Moon Of The Demon

[Anomaly triggered... King Maegor the Cruel has been buffed!]

'Good...' Dennis grinned madly with bloodlust. 'A challenge.'

"We'll be fighting here," Dennis said, stepping ahead of Grace.

He saw several of Maegor's builders turn away in the other direction, running.

"Fine by me."

The two met in the middle, arm's length away. They seemed to carefully observe each other, watching for openings. Dennis was the first to strike.

He raised one axe and slashed it down vertically while slashing at his leg with the other. With this two-direction attack, Maegor couldn't possibly block both...

He didn't, stepping back out of reach and countering with a thrust. Dennis blocked the blow with the steel of one axe... Blackfyre's sharp end almost piercing through it.

He raised the other axe to counter, but Maegor twisted Blackfyre and slashed right through the firm wood, leaving Dennis with only one axe. Then he slashed again, but Dennis blocked.

Clang.

The steel axe cried as Blackfyre slashed right through half of the axehead.

'... What the fuck?' Dennis blinked in shock as he had been left with a wooden handle and a small crescent-shaped axe. He leapt back. 'Fuck that.'

Dennis tossed both former axes, one after the other, forcing Maegor to block...

He cut through the wood and deflected the steel.

Dennis ducked and threw himself against Maegor like a missile, dropping him to the ground while grabbing hold of his right hand. He twisted at his right, which held Blackfyre, and forced him to drop the sword. Meanwhile, Maegor punched him in the face several times, but he tanked those blows- spitting his blood on Maegor's eyes.

"Beastly bastard..." Maegor cursed.

Dennis grabbed hold of Blackfyre and was about to hack him to pieces when Maegor kicked him off with enough force to make Dennis stagger back. He, however, kept hold of Blackfyre.

"I like this sword." He remarked fondly, giving it a twirl. "Nice and shiny. I'll be keeping it."

"Your Grace, that beast fights without honour." One of his Kingsguard remarked, frowning. "Allow us to dispatch him and return Blackfyre to its rightful owner."

"Yes... that would be for the best." Maegor nodded, stepping away. "I want his head."

"Pussy..." Dennis remarked. "Those lads aren't going to keep me away."

The four Kingsguard stepped ahead of their King, drawing swords. They had full plate armour, while Dennis had retained his policy of armour being for pussies. He wore basic travelling clothes, almost rags.

"Let's attack him together!"

They sprang forth, their white cloaks dramatically turning.

"You're not fighting beggars anymore. That plate isn't going to be easy to break past." Grace stated.

"I have a lightsaber, right?"

"... Slightly exaggerated. But... it really depends on how strong you are-"

Clang.

Dennis blocked one sword while three others danced forward - piercing his body. Two pierces into the chest and another into the side of his chest. Such wounds would put down any normal man, but...

A demonic expression possessed him as he only saw red.

Dennis viciously elbowed the one who pierced into his side, giving him a concussion. He headbutted another, and uppercut kicked the third right into his cherries. The one who clashed with him had tried to twist his sword, but Dennis pushed him back with his greater strength.

He grabbed the one who he had elbowed with one hand as he was closest, forced his helmet off and slit his head right open with Blackfyre. Then he slurped on the fountain of blood and feasted on the meat and muscles of his neck. Suddenly, the wounds the swords had caused closed... and the swords themselves collapsed to the ground.

"What... in Seven Hells..."

The Kingsguard knight who remained standing was flabbergasted. Bro hadn't seen a man do anything nearly so cannibalistic, mad and demonic. As for the two others recovering, they looked at it and felt true terror. Was this thing... even human?

"Hahahahaha." Dennis madly laughed. "Oh, I feel amazing! Let's fight some more!"

The last thing on their minds was fighting. Fuck the Kingsguard, fuck the King, fuck King's Landing... they were not fighting Dennis the Menace. Not today, not ever. They didn't even bother to grab their swords. They just ran.

Maegor was long gone, bolting away at top speed. The builders had left as soon as he started running.

Everything he had heard was true...

The last Kingsguard standing shook so heavily that his sword clattered from his hand.

"S... spare me. Mercy. Don't kill me. I was only... only following orders."

"Give me your helmet."

"... Of course, Ser." He took off his helmet like a gentleman would take off his hat, albeit still shivering. "Here."

Dennis slashed through his neck, the knight's head rolling onto the ground.

"No fun..." Dennis remarked, glancing back at Grace. "Why is everyone here such a pussy?"

"I don't know..." Grace sarcastically replied, taking out a mirror. "Maybe take a look at yourself."

"Eh..." Dennis took a closer observation. His face was covered in blood as if it were face paint. "Just a bit of blood."

"Mhm... just a bit. You totally didn't eat a quarter of a man's neck with one mouthful."

"Tasted better than I thought it would," Dennis admitted, turning away. "Though, it does say a lot about them that you're not afraid, and they're shitting themselves."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're more of a man than they are." Dennis shrugged.

"Uh-huh. Right. Actually, I am scared..."

"Are you?" Dennis glanced back, grinning slightly.

"Just... wayyyy more turned on so you don't see it." She pursed her lips seductively. "You could totally bite my tongue if you wanted to."

"... Tsk." Dennis chuckled, some of his madness enhancement fading away. "Well, I can't wait to have the entire city on my dick. That'll be fun."

"That's what happens when you attack a King."

"I'm not worried about me..."

"Aww, that's sweet. You're worried about me?"

"Of course. You can't defend yourself, can you?"

"Not at all," she pouted, shaking her head guiltily. "I'm just a helpless damsel in distress... trapped by this barbaric, cannibalistic demon. Will a hero come to save me?"

"There are no heroes today." Dennis stabbed Blackfyre into the ground and flipped Grace over, carrying her between his arms. He then let go of the arm that held her legs and took Blackfyre with it. "This demon will carry you wherever he desires."

"Oh, the horror..." Grace's terrified expression turned into a daring smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked him on the cheek. "Do you really think you can take all of King's Landing with one arm while carrying and protecting me from any harm?"

"You're not as heavy as you look." Dennis grinned slightly, stepping forward. "I'll be just fine."

"That's pretty rude..." Grace pouted slightly. "You do know, I spend quite a lot of time at my personal gym."

"Still fat... in the right places." Dennis looked at her breasts. "Those breasts aren't made of feathers, are they?"

"They do feel like pillows though..."

"Hm..." Dennis started walking. "I think it's better to carry you on my shoulder."

He raised his hand and draped Grace over his left shoulder, holding Blackfyre with the right. Then he started running, each step resounding in the tunnels like the charge of a dozen men.

"This is not very gentleman-like, you know." Grace pouted, her head locked at the ground and Dennis' backside. "I mean... your ass looks pretty good, but that's about it."

"Yours does too..."

Dennis tapped her ass.

"Hey..."

"Stop the complaining, princess. I have a city watch to slaughter."

Dennis stormed out of the tunnels and was met with a dozen armed men who formed a shield wall - blocking off the exit. Dennis kept running... running... leaping forward with such a monstrous step that it left a crack in the wooden floor.

He had jumped over the spearmen and turned to face them, swinging Blackfyre.

Slash. Slash. Slash.

In the blink of an eye, he tore through three of them. One charged him, but he stepped to the side, sliced through his spear and then hacked his head off. The rest were left beyond demoralised... and could barely hold their spears.

One charged in, aiming for Grace. Dennis' eyes flashed as he outstretched his hand and grabbed the spearpoint - stabbing it into his hand. He dragged the spearmen in with his hand and pierced right into his chest.

He drew out Blackfyre, its blade drenched in blood, and watched as everyone else turned tail and ran into the tunnels, one by one.

"Did you get cut?" Grace questioned.

"A love tap." Dennis grinned, opened his mouth, and grabbed hold of the spear shaft. He then dragged it out and spit the spear onto the ground. "You'll make up for it later..."

"Will I?" Grace blinked.

"Mhm."

Dennis continued to form a bloody path in the Red Keep, hounding Maegor. He had cut through every guard that dared faced to face him until there was no resistance left whatsoever.

When Dennis smashed through the gates of the Red Keep, he was met with quite the surprise. Maegor had rallied the entire City Watch and barricaded off the exit into King's Landing with two thousand men. Meanwhile, he rode Balerion in the open skies. There was another dragon, a smaller one - Vhagar, who was ridden by Maegor's mother.

Dennis took a deep breath.

"Maegor isn't pulling any punches, huh..." Grace remarked. "How are you going to survive dragonfire?"

"Water... lots of it."

Dennis turned away and ran back into the Red Keep. He returned to the tunnels as Grace told him exactly where to go. They went into a sewer that emptied out into the river. Dennis observed that the dragon loomed over a more distant King's Landing when they got out.

"How is a boxer going to beat a flying dragon..."

Dennis mused, shaking his head. It was not that he was afraid of facing it; instead, he didn't see how he could damage it. Up close, sure, but in the skies...

"Punch it, innit." Grace chuckled. "Now... can you let go of me?"

"Yeah." Dennis nodded, letting go and stretching his arm after. "Any ideas, my super intelligent girlfriend?"

"You're the warrior," Grace said, crossing her arms. "Even though I could count your brain cells on one hand, your fighting IQ is pretty good... that's why you turned around in the first place. You knew it was pointless."

"Yeah, right." Dennis chuckled. "I just need to grow wings and fly... what's the name of that X-Man guy?"

"Angel."

"... Are there any other dragons without riders?" Dennis looked up at the sky, seeing two more.

"Yes..." Grace nodded, stroking her chin. "Quicksilver. Though, it's a quarter the size of Balerion."

"Can it fly?"

"... Yeah."

"Good enough for me."

Dennis went along the river, threatening the first man he saw to go to King's Landing and announce his presence. He proceeded to camp the Blackwater Rush - going so far as to take a nice short bath in its less-than-sanitary water.

"You smell wonderful, my dear", Grace remarked sarcastically.

"And you smell like the ocean." Dennis smiled slightly. "Didn't think you'd get so wet from being carried upside down."

"Sooo... how do you plan to attract the dragon?"

"You," Dennis answered. "Since you can bring a makeup station and shit, can't you just teleport that dragon here?"

"Nope. Only useless stuff."

"..." Dennis blinked. "Fuck it. Guess we'll die."

"Want a fruit smoothie made of banana, coconut, and pineapple? It's high in protein," Grace offered with an almost mocking smile. "It tastes pretty sweet, too—plenty of sugar."

"I'm going to fuck your brains out after this, you know that?"

"I'm counting on it..."

"Alright..." Dennis raised Blackfyre, taking a deep breath. "My mother didn't raise a pussy."

"Hold on." Grace smiled, teleporting a massive portable microphone. "I do have this..."

"Hum." Dennis grabbed it. "How loud is it?"

"Loud enough."

"Alright..."

"MAEGOR MOTHERFUCKING TARGARYEN!"

Dennis shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice enhanced by both his madness and Demon of the Trident epithets alongside the microphone. He was so loud that most of King's Landing heard him.

"COME AND FIGHT ME, DENNIS MERTVAGO, ON THIS STINKING FUCKING RIVER. I TOOK YOUR SWORD, I MADE YOU PISS YOURSELF AND RUN, I KILLED YOUR KINGSGUARD, I KILLED YOUR PIGS, I FUCKED YOUR WIFE... IF THERE'S ANYTHING BETWEEN YOUR LEGS OTHER THAN A CUNT, YOU BETTER COME RIGHT FUCKING HERE AND LET ME CUT YOU TO PIECES LIKE MINCED PORK!"

Afterwards, he took a deep breath and turned to Grace.

"You think he heard that?"

"He most definitely did..."

He tossed the microphone back to her and watched as Balerion the Black Dread turned in his direction. Not long after, he had been sighted and the dragon flew over. Maegor made Balerion fly over Dennis once, twice, thrice...

"Grace, why don't you go home?" Dennis pushed her away. "This is my fight."

"Hm... but that's no fun. I like watching." Grace walked away from him. "Don't worry, I'll be safe."

Meanwhile, Vhagar landed to the side - where Grace had walked.

"Mi... milady..." Grace's eyes widened, glittering oh so cutely yet with a confusing expression of fear. "I'm just a helpless girl... that barbarian forced me to follow him. I had no part in what he did, I promise. If I didn't follow him, he'd do such... terrible things to me. Please, kill him... I'm so afraid..."

"... Don't fret, sweet girl." Visenya's stern expression eased momentarily, Grace's charm winning her over. "He will be put down soon enough."

'Always the actress...' Dennis chuckled, looking up at Balerion. "UP THERE, PIZZDA, COME DOWN HERE! HOW MANY LAPS ARE YOU GOING TO FLY AROUND? THIS ISN'T A FORMULA ONE RACE!"

Maegor turned for the last time, breathing fire down straight onto Dennis as he flew a bit lower.

Dennis leapt straight into the river, his entire back being burnt.

He swam deeper, recovering rapidly.

Afterwards, he swam up and roared once again.

"HIDING BEHIND YOUR DRAGON, WHAT KIND OF MAN ARE YOU? MAEGOR THE CRUEL? MORE LIKE MAEGOR, THE SOFT AND TENDER! MY CHICKEN TENDERS ARE TOUGHER THAN YOU!"

Balerion went for a second try, a third... a sixth... a tenth.

Each time, Dennis recovered fully, and the dragon grew weary. Maegor was relentless under Dennis' constant taunting, forcing the dragon to work over time.

Ten turned to twenty... thirty... until Balerion suddenly stopped and landed on the ground. It had been half-heartedly breathing fire down for a while now. A lot of the river had actually turned to the steam, though Dennis just swam further up for more.

"Balerion... you're not finished yet." Maegor reminded the dragon, frowning slightly. "That... thing... must die. I know you can do it."

Balerion frowned, turning to the river and Dennis. He took a deep breath and laid down. He was in the mood of a retail worker who had just worked a fourteen-hour shift, and the boss was asking him to work a few more hours - unpaid. Balerion had had enough and just went for a nap.

"... Balerion... Balerion!" Maegor shouted, gritting his teeth. "You stupid dragon. Dracarys... Dracarys... Dracarys!!! BURN HIM!!!"

Dennis started swimming out of the lake, his grin growing wider as he neared Maegor. When he emerged out of the river, he was a terribly ugly figure of red. Even though he was as healthy as ever on the inside, with the river regenerating him, the constant rain of dragon flame transformed his outer appearance.

He was bald, horribly scarred in every corner of his body and naked. His cock, now a blade of red, swung from side to side as he walked. He came out looking like a mix of Freddy Krueger and Hellboy, minus the horns and nails.

"Looks like your dragon clocked out, buddy." Dennis chuckled, stepping closer with Blackfyre in hand. "It's just you and me. No soldiers to run to, no dragon to hide behind... just you and me."

"Wake... wake!" Maegor commanded Balerion. "Stupid dragon..."

Dennis kept stepping forward.

Maegor looked around, turning to the distant Vhagar.

"Mother... now is your chance!"

Visenya seemed to be talking and laughing with Grace in the distance. They were sat together, having a picnic. A fucking picnic. Maegor furrowed his brows. What the fuck was happening? Visenya didn't seem to give a damn about him or the terrible fate that loomed over him.

"Dennis of House Mertvago... it needn't end like this." The strong and fierce Maegor, for the first time in his life, was truly desperate. "You could have anything you desire. Women, gold, titles, lands. I could even name you my heir. You could be King!"

"There isn't a House Mertvago, you shithead." Dennis kept walking. "You chose to fight me one-on-one, yet when you started losing, you ran like a pussy. You weren't offering this shit when you were safe on top of your dragon in the sky, either."

"Besides... all of the things you offered? I can take it all for myself. You're useless. Save your last shred of dignity and fight me."

As Dennis approached, Maegor seemed to admit to his fate. He got off Balerion and drew his sword. The naked warrior against the King in full plate. Blackfyre against castle-forged steel.

"Very well... I will not have it known that I was a coward. I will face you as a warrior would."

Maegor charged at him, and their blades clashed. Maegor was the superior swordsman, able to parry Dennis and slash at his side. Dennis punched him in the face, and the King staggered back. He proceeded to hack at his plate armour, damaging it.

They continued to fight, clashing for several minutes.

Dennis suffered several terrible gashes while Maegor's plate was cut to pieces. He had managed to pierce through it, heavily damaging him.

CLANG.

Dennis' sword cut through Maegor's, leaving him with half a sword.

"The dragon... fallen to a naked red-skinned demon." Maegor suddenly laughed. "What... even are you, Dennis? What do you intend to accomplish?"

"Becoming the best warrior who ever lived."

"Ah..." He chuckled, spitting his blood onto the ground. "You already are invincible."

"No..."

"No?"

"You know how to swing a sword the right way," Dennis admitted, smiling slightly. "My skill isn't anywhere near the level of yours. When you're not running like a pussy, you're pretty good."

"... Hah." Maegor lowered his head as he began to succumb to his wounds. "Though strange, your way of fighting... is effective. Like a primal beast. Driven by instinct. You have no care for your own body, sacrificing it for any advantage you can grasp..."

Maegor held his broken sword tightly while Dennis pointed Blackfyre at him.

"It's over..."

He couldn't even lift his arm to contest.

Dennis drove Blackfyre into his chest, penetrating through his weakened plate armour.

"House... Targaryen..." Maegor muttered, his eyes greying. "Must... live... on."

He collapsed to the ground as Dennis drew out Blackfyre.

Dennis stood still, looking down on him.

"You fought well."

Dennis slashed open Maegor's body like a cannibal, basking in the stream of blood and recovering from it. Then he turned to Balerion, tapping its head with the pummel of Blackfyre.

"Balerion, is it? You're my dragon now." Dennis announced as if Balerion didn't have a choice in the matter. He tapped its head a few more times, almost affectionately. "Take a nice, well-deserved break... then we'll be paying a visit to sisterfucker Eggon."

Balerion looked at the naked man who had survived far too many bursts of dragon flame, blown out his dragon eardrums with constant shouting and hacked his master to pieces. Despite being touched by this red-skinned man, the dragon didn't bother attacking him.

Truth be told, Balerion himself was frightened of Dennis and had already accepted him as a master.

Afterwards, he went over to Grace and Visenya who were still having a great time.

"What the fuck did you do?" Dennis raised an eyebrow, glancing at Visenya.

"Made a new bestie, of course." Grace giggled. "Aren't we besties, Visenya?"

"Why, of course." Visenya nodded, looking up at Dennis. "That's quite... indecent."

"Don't look at my boyfriend, you old hag." Grace pouted.

"Why, of course... that was rude of me." Visenya turned away.

"Wasn't that your son back there?" Dennis blinked. "You could've helped him."

"Who cares?" Visenya laughed, having a sip of wine. "I can't hold his hand all the damn time like some wee boy. Mommy this. Mommy that. Save me, I'm so useless."

"You're too old for that, amiright?" Grace chuckled.

"Yes... far too old." Visenya sighed, shaking her head.

"..." Dennis glanced at Grace. "Seriously, what did you do?"

"You should go for a ride to a vulcano, Visenya." Grace smiled.

"I should go for a ride."

Visenya obediently nodded, hopping on Vhagar and flying off.

"We're truly... kindred spirits." Grace sighed, looking up at the sky. "I can only get along with mature, elderly women. The girls my age are just soooo immature."

"... Right." Dennis chuckled. "You can mind control people now?"

"Maybe." Grace smiled, tilting her head as she observed his body in its entirety. "Goodness gracious, you're hideous now."

"Will this get you to break up with me?" Dennis grinned.

"Now you can play the part of the hideous man with a golden heart, someone trying to find true love in a world where everyone judges him by his appearance..." Grace smiled sweetly. "Until he finds this totally innocent golden-haired goddess who favours him. The entire world watches in envy as they walk together; lords, princes, and kings protest in their envy... gathering their forces to slay this hideous demon and free the goddess they seek for themselves."

"... Yap, yap, yap. I asked a simple question, and you wrote a whole book. Hell, you didn't even answer the bloody question."

"Would I break up with you?" Grace blinked, smiling. "What a silly question... no matter how you look like; a dragon, a bear, a worm, a blade of grass, bacteria... I'll always love you, Dennis. You're the only thing I'll ever love. You are my sun and stars-"

'Bacteria...' He almost laughed.

"All this romantic crap. I'm horny... and I'm going to fuck you. Simple as."

"As much of a degenerate as I might be, it's hard to find a younger red-skinned Freddy Krueger attractive - as muscular, tall and strong as you might be..." Grace chuckled, glancing away. "I think I'll pass-"

As Dennis leapt down, Grace rolled around and ran.

"Oh, you bitch..." Dennis cursed. "Where did the sun and stars bullshit go?"

"Did I say that? You must have me mistaken for another lady, Ser Crispin Grill."

Dennis chased Grace around, eventually catching her... and given how long it took him, he was extra pent-up. They made passionate love under the stars, becoming one more than a hundred times over. He had gained a worthy sword, a dragon, and made himself famous several times over... now there was only one more thing he wanted to do before returning home.

Settle the score.

On the morrow, he took flight atop Balerion (still naked) and soared straight for Casterly Rock.

...

Not too long after, he would witness the seat and stronghold of House Lannister. He saw one watchtower at the top of the Rock, too small for Balerion to latch onto and without any space to leap down on. He took Balerion around, observing the defences.

He chose to attack the sea gates below, using Balerion's dragon flames to burn right through them. Afterwards, he leapt down into the water like Tarzan and swam in with Blackfyre in hand. The watchmen rallied in the docks, shipyards and wharfs below - observing the naked man with both amusement and fear.

The thing that burned through the sea gates... no doubt, it was a dragon.

But the naked man... didn't look so threatening.

"Who in Seven Hells are you?"

"Dennis." He replied, looking up. "I'm here to see Eggon and chat with him. He's a good friend."

"It's Aegon... and he's no fish. I'm afraid he won't be joining you." The watchman chuckled.

The rest laughed.

"Alright..." Dennis leapt up from the water, landing on the dock. "Diplomacy sucks ass. I'll just kill everyone."

He began to swing around Blackfyre, slaughtering the watchmen who stood in his way. However, as he made his way through them, he noticed that they had barricaded off the entrance to the lower castle.

"I'll fucking break this gate with my bare hands if I have to..."

He began to punch it.

BANG. BANG. BANG,

When his knuckles broke, he went for a swim and came back...

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

He kept punching the gate, over and over, and over...

A mad dedication consumed him. He would not stop until he was on the other side.

...

Literally hours later..

BAAAANG.

He broke through, grabbing Blackfyre and charging into the tunnel naked. On the other side, there was a wooden barricade with thirty spearmen manning it and fifteen archers behind them.

"LOOSE!"

They fired upon him, several arrows landing - one on the tip of his dick.

"BLYAAAT." Dennis knelt down. He definitely felt that one, grabbing the arrow and ripping it out. "BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYT!"

His roar of pain was like a primal scream that caused the guards to shudder. He swiftly got off his knee and charged at them madly. He leapt over the barricade, slaughtering all the archers with a bestial swiftness. His madness enhancement had only grown, making him superhuman.

He proceeded to fight all of the guards himself, leaving the tunnel painted red with blood. He continued onwards, breaking past one defence after the other.

The defences of the Rock were no jest... but neither was Dennis. He was a man on a mission.

After slaying hundreds of guards, pummeling half a dozen gates, and exploring half a hundred tunnels, Dennis had his way. Lyman Lannister personally handed over both Targaryens to him - fearing what might happen if his slaughter continued.

The three reunited in one Casterly Rock's chambers.

"You are... Dennis?" Aegon stepped back, terrified. "Is that... Blackfyre... what happened?"

"Your uncle burned my ass half a hundred times." Dennis chuckled, slowly stepping ahead. "I killed him, though... and I took his shit. Now I'm here to kill you."

"... Surely that's not necessary?" Aegon chuckled, spreading his arms. "In truth, I am happy to see you, my old friend."

"... Are you?" Dennis chuckled.

"Yes..." Aegon managed a nervous smile, glancing at Rhaena. "Very. Did you know that I'm going to be a father soon?"

"Wow, really? I thought she just got fat. Your sister is going to pop out a niece or nephew?"

"Well, a son or daughter." Aegon chuckled, correcting him. "It's an occasion to be celebrated, don't you think? Also... the usurper is dead. I should officially be named King. However, not many would approve, and I will need a strong hand to help me. Wars might break out..."

"Oh... and you want me to fight for you?"

"Precisely."

"Didn't you poison me?"

"Not at all... that was the Lord of Crakehall. I wouldn't dare do that to the man who saved my wife and I."

"It was fun, Eggon... but it's all come to an end."

"What-"

Dennis stabbed Blackfyre through Aegon's open mouth, making him choke on it. He drew it out, watching the prince croak to death as blood spilt out of him. He grabbed his dick with his free hand and pissed in his mouth.

It streamed down like a waterfall, adding to his blood.

After he was done pissing on the dying Aegon, he turned to Rhaena.

"You've been silent all this time, princess..." Dennis raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"... I... played no part in Aegon's foolishness. I beg you, spare me and my child."

"Hmm... what do I get out of it?" Dennis pushed her against the wall.

"What... do you want?" Her eyes widened as he towered over her. She looked down in fear, only to see his emboldened third leg. "I'll do anything..."

"Anything..." Dennis muttered, his blood still pumping. "Don't think much of your brother, do you?"

"... If... I must-"

She slid down hesitantly.

Before she could grab hold of him, he stepped away.

"I don't bully the weak... unless I have a good reason to." Dennis smiled slightly. "You're a bitch, sure... and it's tempting to put you in your place but... I have standards."

"... So..."

'It's time for me to go home...' He thought.

"Do one thing for me, princess." Dennis smiled, tilting his head slightly. "Remember who I am."

Rhaena's eyes widened as Dennis raised Blackfyre and pierced his own heart.

He had died standing, naked and proud.

[Great breakthrough achieved; your name will be engraved into the history of this world...]

...

Grace stood on the outskirts of Casterly Rock, leaning against a tree. Balerion stood beside her. She smiled, patting his head.

"Dennis is still a good boy, hm... I wonder how much he will evolve this time."

Raiden's Storm Chapter 42: Farewell

"You are... Ser Barristan?" Daenerys questioned.

"Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard." Barristan announced, lowering his head as he kneeled. "I have served your-"

"You have served usurpers." Daenerys interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "If you say who you are, then why should I not have you executed?"

"I am not your enemy, princess. Nor is His Grace..."

"Princess?" Daenerys stood up from her decorated throne. "I am the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The King you serve is no more than the bastard child of a usurper. What right does he have over me?"

"He fought for the right, as did his father," Ser Barristan replied solemnly. "Once King Robert fell, His Grace defeated the Lannisters without losing a single man through his skill alone. He invaded and crushed the Ironborn before they could muster a rebellion. I have no doubt that by now, the entire Realm has acknowledged him..."

"Is your King not just a boy?"

"Aye... just a boy of two-and-ten, yet he is an archer like no other, a mighty warrior, a brilliant strategist-"

"..." Daenerys suddenly laughed. "You expect me to believe this, Ser Barristan? What else is this boy King of yours, a great merchant? A blacksmith? A magician, an administrator?"

"I only speak what I believe and have seen with mine own eyes." Ser Barristan replied, shaking his head.

"..." Daenerys sat down, resting her head on her hand. "Why did he send you all the way here, rather than keeping you at his side?"

"His Grace and the small council had some disagreements regarding what should be done about you. While the small council voted to have you killed, His Grace was the sole party who disagreed—defiantly so. That is why he sent me here, as a representative of his truest intentions."

"Those being?"

"He wishes to bring you home."

"... Home?" Daenerys scoffed, looking around. "I rule over Meereen; I have an army of over ten thousand Unsullied and three dragons that grow with every passing day. Where was this kindness before?"

"It is as you say... Edric was born a bastard. There was nothing that he could have done before."

"Does he expect me to leave behind everything I've built and pray this is not some trap?" Daenerys chuckled. "Will he step down and give me the Iron Throne?"

"Not to my knowledge..."

"Then your long journey here was for nought, Ser Barristan," Daenerys said coldly. "I will return home when I am ready... and when I do, it will be with my army, a large fleet and three grown dragons. I will take what is mine by right and conquer the Seven Kingdoms, as Aegon did before."

"... Should you decline, His Grace strictly commanded me to serve you faithfully," Barristan added, looking up at her.

"Serve me?" Daenerys blinked, almost confusedly. "First, he sends you here to bring me home, next... he wants you to serve me. What can a single old man like you do? How can I even trust the Kingsguard of my enemy?"

"My King is not like his father... nor yours." Ser Barristan got off his knees, his expression showing an aged determination. "He is noble, honourable, brave and would never stoop so low as to assassinate a girl. He was so against the notion that he sent me, the Lord Commander of his own Kingsguard, to protect and serve you."

"..." Daenerys found herself being strangely moved by his speech, turning to Jorah. "What do you think of this knight?"

"He has served the Kingsguard for a great many years... a good, honourable and honest man who is as dutiful as anyone can claim to be." Jorah Mormont replied, taking a deep breath. "However, he is not a man you could trust... his loyalty is to the Kingsguard first, above all else. If his King wished you dead, he would follow his oath."

"Hm..." Daenerys turned back to Barristan. "I have no need of your protection nor a usurper's goodwill. However... you might have some use. I am rather curious about your bastard King."

She raised her hand, and the Unsullied in the room stepped forward to action. Barristan drew Redrain in response, its crimson red blade gleaming as if the blood of a hundred men was engraved into it.

"You said you would serve me, did you not?" Daenerys smiled slightly. "I order you to drop your sword."

Barristan contemplated telling the truth about Jorah being a spy. He then thought of his orders and what Edric would think if he returned empty-handed after so long a time...

He dropped Redrain, and it clattered onto the ground.

"I will do as you ask."

"... Put him in a cell."

Daenerys continued her court session for the rest of the day. When she retired to her bedchamber and went to sleep, she encountered a dream. However, it was hardly a dream—more of a nightmare. There were clouded black skies and only darkness across an endless ocean, safe for a looming purple moon. A dense fog covered the world, so thick that she couldn't even see her outstretched hand.

She walked across the waters, where each step turned into skeletons of men. As she continued, lightning struck in the distance, and the image of a colossal iron throne flashed at that moment. She walked in its direction until the fog dispersed at the throne's steps.

A towering figure stood at the very top, warhammer in hand and a crown in the other. His full armour was as dark as the sky that loomed over him, a cloak of gold waving at his back. His stag horns stood out most of all, gleaming under the enchanting purple moon.

He began to descend, each step causing the ocean to shake.

'... Usurper?'

Daenerys fell to the ground, looking up at the mighty figure that approached.

Once he was halfway across, he carelessly tossed the crown at the feet of Daenerys... a crown that would split into nine and spread far apart while he casually rested his Warhammer on his right shoulder. He continued onwards to the purple moon, walking past her - his golden cloak turning to one of mostly black with a golden stag at its centre. A falcon followed in his wake, and each step into the trail of corpses led to a grander image...

A mountain of gold, an army, an endless fleet, treasures as far as the eye could see...

A crown.

A crown far grander than the one he had left behind at her feet.

As he continued forward, all of it faded to mist, and Daenerys woke.

When she looked out of the balcony, she had witnessed a storm like no other. Raging waves that were so strong that half the anchored ships at port nearly drowned. They grew so high that even the piers were whipped by its waves. The wind was heavy as ever, cold air smashing against her body while rain poured down heavy as ice.

She found it hard to breathe, returning to her bedchamber as the sound of thunder boomed in the distance.

Daenerys couldn't sleep for most of the night, not until the storm had subsided.

…

The following morrow, she came to visit Ser Barristan in his cell. Barristan was a tough old thing, sitting unfazed. His eyes rose when Daenerys approached with a torch.

“Princess…”

“You will address me by my title if you hope to serve, Ser Barristan.”

“Princess.” Ser Barristan remained stubborn. “I would do you no harm, I swear it. You are the younger sister of Rhaegar Targaryen, a prince I respected and admired. I knew him since he was a boy, trained him, fought beside him and was at his side for many years.”

“... Yet you served the man who slew him?” Daenerys raised an eyebrow as curiosity took her. “If you were so close… why?”

“Robert… was a good knight. Chivalrous, brave… he spared my life and many others. I thought that he was a worthy king to serve.”

“So you abandoned Viserys in his exile?"

“... Even as a child, your brother Viserys oft seemed to be his father’s son.” Ser Barristan explained, lowering his head slightly. “... In ways that Rhaegar never did."

“What do you mean by that?” Daenerys raised an eyebrow.

“Aerys… was touched by a deep madness, princess. He took pleasure in burning others with wildfire, solely for his entertainment. He would… harm your mother when they joined at night. She would cry out, but he would continue until he was… satisfied. He did not just force himself on her... he did things I would dare not speak of."

"..."

This revelation unsettled Daenerys, who had only heard about her father from Viserys. He would always speak highly of their father without fail, denouncing all the traitors who had betrayed him in the rebellion.

"... What of the King you serve now? Tell me everything you know from the very beginning."

Daenerys decided to change the uncomfortable subject, recalling her dream. It was the true reason she had gone to meet Ser Barristan. Out of anyone, he would know him best. His strengths, weaknesses, character...

"Everything..." Ser Barristan slowly nodded. "He was born on Dragonstone as Edric Storm, the acknowledged bastard son between Robert Baratheon and Delena Florent..."

~

Before Storm's End, Edric Storm stopped at Tarth. Lord Selwyn welcomed him with open arms, recounting the first time he had entered the halls of Evenfall. Brienne had been there too, who Edric caught up with. Once he was done settling down, he went outside of the castle with her.

Though some of the Kingsguard protested against him going as a duo, he ordered them to remain.

"This island is as beautiful as I remember," Edric mused, his eyes observing a lake in the distance. "If I were not King, it would be a fine paradise to live in."

"You can live wherever you wish, Your Grace," Brienne remarked. "All of the lands of the Seven Kingdoms belong to you."

"The Iron Throne is where every King belongs. That is where the power of the Realm resides." Edric countered, shaking his head. 'Or rather, it's where everyone believes it resides.'

"... Well, for a time, you could," Brienne replied.

"How well did you know Alysanne?" Edric asked, glancing at her.

"We were friends... why do you ask, Your Grace?"

"When I left this island for the first time, Alysanne told me she would show me the most beautiful lake in the world..." Edric remarked, looking up at the distant sky. "She never had the opportunity to show me. Would you... happen to know where it is?"

"She would go there often..." Brienne nodded, stepping ahead. "I will lead you to it, Your Grace."

"Thank you." Edric smiled slightly.

She led him to a most enchanting sight indeed, a rather small hidden cave that had a waterfall streaming down at its end into a lake. The cave's entrance left a beautiful ray of light, shining down onto the lake below. Its shimmering blue water was beyond alluring.

It was as if god himself had crafted a small paradise for whoever was fortunate enough to find it.

Edric took a deep breath, absorbing the sight. He had stood almost completely still.

"Indeed... it's beautiful." Edric smiled, nodding. "Brienne, would you return to Evenfall?"

"But..."

"I wish to be alone for a time."

"As you wish, Your Grace."

As Brienne marched away, Edric stepped down right beside the lake. He sat down, dipping his hand into the water. It was as soft and warm as a lover's embrace. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine her.

"I was never the best jouster, but..." he spoke, his blue eyes reflecting the lake. "I would've carried that banner you made for me and your favour along with it, all the way to victory. No matter what obstacles stood between me and that result, I would've overcome them all. Despite my wounds, despite the greater skill others might possess... I would have won for you."

"Wouldn't that be so perfect?" He chuckled, looking up at the waterfall with a joyous smile. "I would name you the Queen of Love and Beauty before all of the Realm... and... at last, confess the feelings I had been shying away from. We'd get married, and I'd live out my days as Ser Edric Storm. I'd gather a band of noble companions, travel the Known World on numerous adventures and together, we'd find a beautiful home to settle down into."

"A... more simple life. What could've been..."

"The young man who just wanted to be loved, who wanted meaning and happiness to his life... Arthur Astley. He died with you in that very storm, Alysanne."

Raiden Shogun floated to the side, her purple eyes shaking slightly. They were like two lakes with occasional drops of sorrow falling upon them. As for Edric, his smile remained - even though his eyes burned with fire.

"Though... what's the good in speaking to the dead? You can't hear me in the end, can you?" Edric sighed, shaking his head. "You'll never hear me again... nor I you. I had come here to make myself feel better, to move on. That's what you wanted from me when you wrote that letter, yet I've failed expeditiously."

He took out the letter she had written, alongside his tailored banner and the single-antlered helmet he'd used in the Hand's Tourney. He put them all together by the bank of the lake on a large rock.

"In the end... I loved the idea of what could have been more so than what we truly were. I was an indecisive idiot; I didn't see what was right before me until you left my side. Ultimately, I'll never know what we could've been." Edric smiled bitterly, placing his head against the helmet. "At least... you are in a better place now. A place befitting a kind, sweet and loving lady like you. Wherever that place is... I'll never be able to join you."

He wanted to cry, yet he found himself unable to.

Edric's eyes shook slightly, and his lips trembled momentarily. He stepped away from his makeshift burial, composing himself. He recalled their shared fascination with the Age of Heroes, a time when legendary figures like no other roamed the world. Some were no more than stories, yet these stories had inspired them.

"... This is farewell, my sweet Alysanne."

Edric turned away, and his golden cloak fluttered. When his eyes firmed once more, the will in his heart had only grown. He found a new ambition, one that wasn't merely survival, freedom or the pursuit of love. It was something far greater...

The simple man had been buried, and the dragon that would shake the Known World had been born.

Raiden's Storm Chapter 41: Power of Storm

“Two ravens arrived today. One from the Eyrie and another from Winterfell, Your Grace.”

Stannis Baratheon informed me over dinner. It had been a few days since Dorian left, and I had started preparing for Storm’s End. My ship hadn’t seen any action since landing in King’s Landing over a year ago, and it was time to bring it home.

It was only a year and a moon… yet it felt longer than all the six years I had lived before combined.

“Oh, what are they about?”

“Lord Robb Stark has declined your offer of assistance, stating that he is the Warden of the North and is capable enough to fulfil his duty. However, he will not turn away his brother and King should he arrive regardless.”

“I see…” I smiled slightly. “He doesn’t want to strain me if he can help it. After all, the journey North is long and arduous.”

“Aye… it would seem so. He’s a good lad, taking after his father.” Renly nodded. “The second piece of news is that the entire court of the Vale will be visiting King’s Landing.”

If I was drinking anything, I would’ve spat it out. Fortunately, I wasn’t.

“The entire court of the Vale?” I blinked. “What for?”

“As their marriage is sponsored by you, Lord Harrold Arryn wishes to marry his intended at the Sept of Baelor, before the eyes of the King and the royal court” Stannis informed. “There is also mention of a grand tourney…”

With Winter on the horizon? I ain’t paying for that.

“Is there now?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Do not fret, nephew.” Renly chuckled, no doubt at my face. “It is a tourney that Lord Harrold intends to pay for. Not only is it to honour his marriage to Ysilia Royce, but it is also a way of honouring you and washing away the stain that Lysa’s defiance left behind.”

“Valemen are the most honourable in the Realm.” Stannis nodded. “Given what you did for them, this is unsurprising.”

A tourney, during a time like this…

Am I to become the next King Harlaus, lord of butter?

“If that is the case... he and the Lords of the Vale are more than welcome.” I nodded, stroking my chin. “Besides, the people of King’s Landing haven’t had many festivities since I was crowned. A grand wedding and a tourney to go with it ought to liven many spirits.”

“I knew you would agree.” Renly smiled. “Since our new Lord Arryn wants to pay for it, why not? Besides, it is an opportunity for your newest additions of the Kingsguard to show their skill and worth before the Realm.”

“Indeed,” I nodded. “However, my decision to visit Storm’s End remains unchanged. Should they arrive before I return, welcome them in my stead.”

“Of course.” Renly nodded.

“Also... I heard there was some infighting between you two.” I looked at Renly and then at Stannis. “What was that about?”

“Infighting? No such thing.” Renly scoffed, shrugging his shoulders. “We are the most loving of brothers. Who would spread such rumours?”

Nothing gets past Varys...

“Yes, there was,” Stannis admitted. “It’s settled now, however. You need not concern yourself with the matter.”

“It better be settled.” I stood up, shaking my head. “You are brothers, and I expect you to act as such. There’s a reason why I entrusted the Realm to both of you. Yes, you have your differences - but you also have strengths that bury the weaknesses of the other. Together... there’s not a single obstacle we can’t overcome. Not a single one.”

“... It’s natural for brothers to fight, nephew.” Renly smiled, nodding. “You are right, however. We are all of the House Baratheon. Infighting is precisely what our enemies wish for.”

“Even though we might disagree on most matters, Renly and I do what we think is best for you. “Stannis remarked, a rare smile emerging on his face. “I believe this infighting only happened because you were absent, Your Grace. You are the bridge that leads us to put our differences aside and unite for a common cause.”

“Well, I can’t always be around and look after my uncles like children. You have to build a bridge to each other.”

“Getting scolded by my own nephew.” Renly chucked before sighing. “How matters change...”

“Do it for me,” I added, my eyes going from one uncle to the other. “It’s not only my wish but also a command as your King.”

“We will.” Stannis sternly nodded.

“Of course,” Renly added. “It will not be as simple as it sounds, but we have a common cause.”

“As for the matter of my future Queen... I do not plan to break my betrothal. I am not as easily influenced as either of you might think. As King, I know my duty is to the Realm and its people. I live and rule for them. I will not walk away from my duty merely because my heart might seek something else.”

Stannis glanced at Renly, who could only smile.

“Our nephew will grow into a most fine King. Lady Arya is most fortunate.”

“Lord Eddard and your father would be proud,” Stannis added. “Even so... you keep Lady Margaery and the others at your side. Why would that be?”

“Am I not allowed to have friends now?” I raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to have my guards escort such ladies out of sight? I am a knight and a King, uncle. Courtesy is part of my duty.”

“See? Our nephew was raised right; he knows the value of loyalty and friendship - especially amongst nobility.” Renly proudly stated, patting my shoulder. “There is a reason why so many rally to his cause.”

“Because he is the rightful King,” Stannis replied simply. “A King has no friends, only subjects and enemies.”

“... It’s like talking to a steel wall.” Renly chuckled. “Am I not wrong, Edric?”

“In a sense, he is right. Many have suddenly become my friends simply because of the crown I wear.” I replied, shaking my head. “However, I still have true friends who are my most loyal subjects. Friendship only strengthens their will to serve me, making it more than just duty. Men and women alike are more willing to fight for a King they love and believe in.”

“Lord Eddard would go to hell and back for my father... that kind of friendship and loyalty is beyond priceless.”

“I see...” Stannis nodded. “You share your father’s spirit. It is no wonder he wanted you as his heir, above all else.”

“Something finally reached you?” Renly’s eyes widened in surprise. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Well... I’m done eating.” I smiled. “Just try not to wage war on each other while I am away.”

...

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Syrio and I were in an intense dance, and I matched him more often than not. What he had for speed and skill, I made up for in strength, reach, and reaction time. If anything, he was on the backfoot... but I didn’t recklessly push the attack - taking my time and striking when I saw an opening.

Tap. Tap.

I hit him twice, deflecting his sword and rotating my own against his guard.

“You are twice the fighter you were before.” Syrio praised, stepping back. “You see what you did not.”

“I’ve been working on my craft.” I nodded. “Your words did not fall on deaf ears despite only teaching me briefly.”

“Good.” Syrio gave me an approving nod. “Your way is not the water dancing way... yet you have sharpened your blade with its principles, making you a better sword than Syrio Forel, former First Sword of Braavos.”

“I am not a better sword than you.” I shook my head. “Simply, I have the advantage of youth and strength.”

“You will only improve with time,” Syrio remarked. “If you continue to practice, no man in the world will be your match when you are grown.”

“He’s better than you?” Arya blinked, turning to Syrio.

“Yes... my loss only speaks the truth.”

From that day onward, Arya started looking up to me. She’d even ask to spar me... which I entertained. However, she wasn’t much of a challenge, and it felt more like I was bullying her.

...

"How would you like to go on a short seafaring trip with me?"

I came to visit Asha Greyjoy, who, despite being kept in the dungeons in the Red Keep, did not look nearly as bad as Joffrey. She was well-fed and even got to go outside from time to time in chains. Of course, it's not perfect... but she isn't a person either of my uncles trust.

"Fuck off." Asha spat on the ground. "I have no interest in serving you, bastard."

"I never said anything about serving," I said, stroking my chin. "Come now, you don't want to rot in this dungeon the rest of your life, do you? I can't treat you well if you don't allow me to."

"I don't need your false kindness."

"... Hm. Did you know that the Iron Islands have been doing quite well recently? In truth, I am proud of them. They use their ships for far more than just reaving and pillaging. Those traditions have been put an end... for something more beneficial. For everyone in the Realm."

"Trading?" Asha questioned.

"Aye... so many ships and a culture for the sea like no other. Not only have they been trading, but some have chosen to act as guardians of other merchants - netting even more profit. " I remarked, leaning against the wall facing her cell. "Peace, prosperity and wealth. The Ironborn have what Balon Greyjoy could never give them. All they needed was a guiding hand and an understanding leader... your father was just a fool dreaming of war and ancient traditions that have no place in a united Realm."

"... You expect me to praise you?"

"Not at all." I shrugged. "Plenty enough people praise me."

"Hmph." She snorted. "Leave me."

"I know you hate this stinking cell. Eh... I'll take you with me regardless. Whether you accept my kindness or not, you will have it."

"Be wary, bastard." Asha frowned, raising her chained hands. "I might just choke you to death."

"I don't think you have the strength nor reach for that."

~

Even though I intended to travel with little company and on a single vessel, the number of people who requested to join me rapidly grew. Many of them were highborn... so one ship with plenty of space turned into a thoroughly packed one as I let some of them join me. There is a saying that the court goes wherever the King does. It couldn’t be more true in this case.

Given my abilities, I wasn’t too worried about having not all that many guards and only a single ship. I had more than enough tools at my side to handle any sort of pirates that lurked in the Narrow Sea. If anything, I hoped that we got attacked... I could earn some experience.

The Tyrells and Martells were the most prominent two parties who accompanied me, alongside their respective subject houses. Dickon Tarly was one example from the Reach, who Randyll Tarly wanted to squire under me despite him being only a year younger. Out of respect for my Master of Laws and loyal subject, I accepted.

During this time, I focused on the wind and water aspects of Storm Manipulation to push along my ship to its destination quicker.

...

While warging into Freedom, I saw a fleet of five pirate ships approaching along the Narrow Sea.

“Oi, is that the Baratheon sigil? Royalty?” One of the pirates remarked.

The captain strained his eyes, looking ahead. “It’s only one ship... we’re lucky today, boys. They ought to have plenty of highborn, which means plenty of gold.”

I blinked as Freedom.

Lucky, is it?

I returned to my body and got ready. Before long, the five pirate ships had mine surrounded. The capable fighters took to the upper deck while the rest went below: my Kingsguard, Ser Garlan, the Hound, the squires of Mistwood, Oberyn Martell, and a decent number of guards.

The person who I had observed to be their leader looked quite confident.

“We have a hundred men against your... what, five-and-twenty?” The captain grinned slightly. Truthfully, he only had eighty at best. “No one needs to die here. Put down your weapons, and I will treat you all kindly.”

“Lowly pirates,” Loras remarked, having his sword drawn.

“I did say travelling with only one ship was dangerous,” Garlan said, turning to me. “This is quite the plight.”

“Do these poorly armed pirates unman you, Ser Garlan?” I questioned, smiling slightly. “I thought you might have more courage and faith, having fought by my side against worse odds.”

“It is only an unnecessary trouble, Your Grace.” Garlan countered with a smile of his own, shaking his head. “I know full well you could defeat them all on your lonesome, if need be.”

“... Highborn cunts.” The captain frowned, raising his hand. “Did you not hear a thing I said? You have five seconds to surrender your arms before I have my men rain arrows on your pretty faces."

"Oberyn... you wanted to see a proper display of my abilities?" I turned to him. "I'll show you."

"FIRE!"

Half a hundred arrows soared into the sky - but were tossed to the side by a violent wind - shoving a dozen men straight into the sea. The pirate captain watched with a befuddled expression. He hadn't seen a wind so strong emerge out of calm waters.

"What in Seven Hells..."

The skies suddenly darkened, and thunder cracked high above, startling all of the pirates. Rain began to pour down, and the wind grew heavy and fierce, shoving their ships off course. The waves grew in strength, each consecutive one pushing harder. The pirate captain himself fell to the ground from the sudden emergence of a storm.

I raised my left hand to the skies, and the thunder in the skies boomed.

"The Smith beats his hammer, leaving judgement of the fallen to the Father."

I lowered it, and lightning followed.

Crack... BOOM.

One bolt of lightning separated into five, crashing down against every pirate ship.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Each bolt of lightning was fiercer than the previous, puncturing through all five of the five ships without fail. Before long, the pirates from those ships were either dead from lightning and fire or drowning. I grabbed my bow and finished the job.

A few had walked up to the upper deck, witnessing the carnage that had ensued. Asha looked genuinely frightened, a rare sight. I turned to Oberyn, who was baffled.

"So this... is your power." He remarked, shaking his head. "No Gods weaved the waters and winds, darkened the skies and unleashed lightning. It was your magic alone."

"No, the Storm God did." Asha refuted. "This was the Storm God's doing... and the bastard is his vessel."

"He is simply the chosen son of the Seven." Arthur countered. "They have granted him the divine power to judge mortal men."

"..." I shrugged my shoulders. "Everyone is open to their interpretation of my ability. The truth remains that I command storm."

~

[On the other side of the world...]

After a long and arduous journey, during which he battled storms, fought pirates, and chased the ghost of Daenerys Targaryen across the Known World, Ser Barristan arrived at her court in Meereen.

"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Shackles and the Mother of Dragons."

Missandei stood at the side of Daenerys, looking down on Ser Barristan.

One close observation and Ser Barristan realised that bringing Daenerys home wouldn't be so simple.

Daenerys was no helpless princess longing for home... she had become a conqueror.

Raiden's Storm Chapter 40: Haunting Ghost

As I left Arthur with Arya, Ser Loras and the Hound accompanied me. I went to the White Sword Tower and gathered the rest of the Kingsguard for morning practice. I had organised their shifts so every one of the Kingsguard would be available for these practices rather than having some snooze them away. It wasn't as tricky as it sounds, considering there are twenty-four hours a day and, safe for their eight hours of sleep, the Kingsguard are available to me during most of them.

We went straight to the largest of the Red Keep's yards, starting with some light exercises before moving on to sparring. As per usual, it was only a short time until a sizeable number of courtiers moved to observe the routine practice. Sansa Stark was one of them, amongst Princess Arianne and Margaery Tyrell. Renly and Gendry were too.

The Hound seemed to be in his element today, consecutively besting Ser Mandon, Loras, Balon and Arys.

"Seems to me that you want a white cloak, Hound..." I remarked with a slight smile.

"I am no knight."

"I could make you one." I offered.

"Fuck that useless title."

"Fair enough." I chuckled at the Hound's response, shrugging my shoulders. "To me, you are a Kingsguard in all but name - white cloak or otherwise."

"Why don't you face your dog?" Arianne smiled as she observed from the raised stands, resting her head on her hand. "Many say that you are the strongest warrior in all of the Seven Kingdoms, despite your youth..."

'And the golden medal for women's instigating goes to...'

"I planned to regardless." I grabbed my warhammer and raised it on my shoulder. Since my old armour no longer fit me, I had taken Robert's armour as my own. I was definitely selling the Demon of the Trident roleplay. "Let's give them a show."

"Hardly a show." The Hound scoffed. "You are a little monster."

He chose to use a morningstar with a decently long chain, swinging it at me. I evaded its spiked ball with ease, even without hyper-focus. I waited for an opportunity to strike... using the plate of my left arm to deflect the next blow while raising my warhammer with the right.

Smash.

My warhammer struck right into the Hound's side, leading to him staggering back. His armour had been decently dented, and I knew he felt that blow.

"Fuck." Sandor cursed, stepping back. "Strong cunt, you held back, didn't you?"

"... Yeah." I nodded, feeling a slight bit of pain in my left arm. The blunt force of the Hound was no jest. "Why would I want to injure my own men?"

"Does that answer your question?" Sandor looked up at Arianne. I know he wanted to add something along the lines of 'dumb bitch' but restrained himself.

"Certainly does..." Arianne observed Sandor's armour from a distance. She pursed her lips as she looked at me and winked. "It seems that His Grace's large, strong, figure is not just for show..."

I continued to spar with Robert's warhammer, dancing with multiple Kingsguard at once. It was only then that I was truly challenged, having to abuse hyper-focus to avoid being sandwiched. Then I swapped to the sword and did the same. Since I was fighting against rotating teams, I naturally exhausted the most energy but got more experience out of it.

The session continued with several capable volunteers, like Ser Garlan, joining in. The Hound had noticeably improved at his throwing, and the rest had become decent archers. As for me... well. I decided to leave that for a hunt. The yard wasn't nearly large enough to test my effective range.

I showed Oberyn some lightning tricks, piquing his interest.

"Your magic is fascinating," Oberyn admitted, nodding as lightning sparked in my left hand. "It's more than little sparks, though... isn't it?"

"Oh, of course." I smiled, nodding. "Showing its full strength would spoil this beautiful afternoon sky, however. Mayhaps another day."

"As you wish." Oberyn shrugged.

By the end of the session, I was absolutely drained after the adrenaline rush. I definitely pushed myself to the limit today, from abusing hyper-focus to keeping pace during extensively long duels against many skilled combatants. I knew that tomorrow I'd wake up sore as shit.

I prepared a little feast for myself and those who had trained with me before heading to relax in the gardens under Margaery Tyrell's invitation. We walked through them rather casually before sitting on a beautiful balcony table showing some of the finer scenery of King's Landing.

She had servants bring all kinds of fruit from the Reach, the sight of which magically opened space in my previously full stomach. Melons, peaches, pomegranates, grapes, fireplums...

I found it difficult not to open my mouth and drool. Alas, I kept my composure.

"Don't be shy, Your Grace." Margaery sweetly smiled, tilting her head slightly as she looked directly into my eyes. "Eat as much as you like. I heard you had a particularly sweet tooth, despite being known for eating mainly meat."

"I love both." I nodded, eyeing the peaches. "Meat gives me strength, sweetness gives me joy."

"I see." She chuckled. "The fruits are most ripe in Highgarden, where some even say they are as sweet as the cadence of a poet's song."

"Oh... is that so?" I subtly grabbed a peach with my right hand and had my first bite. Yeah, it was fucking good. I wanted to munch through the whole thing. "Sounds quite tempting."

"I believe you'd more than love it—Highgarden, I mean." She raised her hand and held my gloved left hand. "With all the Kingdoms returned to the fold, it's only right that you should have some time to yourself. All that fighting with the mountain clans of the Vale... I doubt it was easy on the body nor the mind."

"I'm sure I would..."

I said, looking into her eyes. The lines blurred until I wasn't looking at Margaery, but rather... Alysanne. My hand clenched hers for a moment. My look turned into a stare before the illusion vanished before my eyes.

I let go, glancing away.

"But... there's something I want to do first." I took a deep breath, shaking my head. "Something I need to do."

"And that... would be?"

"I need to put someone dear to me to rest," I said with a strained smile, looking into the narrow sea. Then I turned back to her. "How about I show you my home first, lady Margaery? It's not nearly as wonderful as Highgarden, with its strong winds, mighty rain and booming lightning... but it has its own charm. Of course, I won't force your hand-"

"Oh, I'd love to, Your Grace." She smiled with a sparkle in her eyes. "Storm's End has a long history and is one of the mightiest castles in the Realm."

I doubt she was that excited to see Storm's End...

"Besides, being in your company, no matter the place, is a great honour." Margaery added, smiling once more. "I'd gladly accompany you wherever you wish."

'Even to my bedchamber?' I thought to myself. 'Silly thought... that's precisely where you want to be. With a crown, especially.'

"That's settled, then." I nodded, taking a few more, bigger, bites of the peach. Before I knew it, only the seed remained. I flicked it into the distance and grabbed another. "Hum-"

As I was engrossing myself in the sweetness of Reach peaches, two soft hands graced my shoulders and massaged them. By the distinct smell alone, I could tell who it was.

"You must be sore from your arduous training, Your Grace..." She said in her husky voice, which was alluring in a way. "Let this princess help you unwind a little."

My heartbeat quickened a little.

Admittedly, I didn't mind a massage. It felt pretty good. Even though I sincerely doubted Arianne's end-game was just to become my masseuse, I decided to loosen up a little and enjoy the moment - while eating my second peach.

"I could do much more if you found a suitable place to lay down, Your Grace."

"I don't believe His Grace requires your services," Margaery remarked, keeping her smile. "Besides, it's rather rude of you to interrupt our private conversation."

"Why, I am just serving the King," Arianne answered. "If he wishes for me to leave, he only needs to say the word."

I exchanged looks with Margaery and then saw Raiden Shogun looking at me.

Women...

I just want to enjoy my peaches.

"Aren't you popular these days, Your Grace?" Dorian pulled up, chuckling. "The company of two beautiful ladies with such prominent names... any ordinary man would be green with envy."

"Ah, Dorian." I smiled. "You're still around?"

"What... you wanted me to leave so swiftly?" Dorian pretended to look sad. "Am I not wanted?"

"No, quite the opposite. Do you need something from me?"

"I was just wandering around. Though, I did want to speak with you one last time before I departed..." Dorian smiled, glancing at Arianne. "However, you look beyond comfortable, Your Grace. I'd hate to drag you away from your paradise."

What a save...

I stood up.

"Sure." I looked at Margaery and then at Arianne. "We can continue at a later time."

"You only need to say the word." Arianne smiled, not looking upset at all.

...

Dorian took me to one of my favourite spots, the tallest of the Red Keep's towers, which overlooked all of King's Landing.

"Women..." Dorian chuckled, glancing at me. "Are you still a maid, Your Grace?"

"... Yeah." I shrugged. "What of it?"

"So much attention at such a young age... isn't it enticing? You are getting to about that age when boys start becoming more like men, eh."

"A little." I admitted. "It is becoming more than a little enticing recently."

"I see... not even Robert had that many highborn ladies dropping themselves at his feet." Dorian laughed. "You are one charming lad with no Cersei Lannister to keep them away, I suppose. The little wolf is hardly a deterring factor."

"What are you getting at?" I raised a slight eyebrow.

"Arianne, for one, will not stop at anything until you two are in the same bed together..." Dorian seemed to warn me. "That's how she is, Oberyn tells me. A relentless princess who tends to get what she wants. Of course, you could indulge her... no doubt, she would make you feel joy you didn't know existed."

"I see..." I acted like I didn't know. "What am I to do about it?"

"What would you want to do about it?" Dorian questioned, grinning slightly. "If you want, you could serve these eager ladies like your father would."

"Heh..." I chuckled. "Wouldn't I be just like my father, then?"

"Look at how having a bastard turned out for him..." Dorian remarked, shrugging. "Without you, the Realm would be in pieces."

"... Mayhaps. Even so, I am no Robert Baratheon." I shook my head, looking at Dorian with a more serious expression. "When I do it... I want it to be special."

"How romantic and sweet!" Dorian mused, resting his head on his hand. His mocking grin was all too clear.

"Shut up." I rolled my eyes.

"In which case, Arianne is not the woman for you." Dorian chuckled. "She has been through quite the number of... swords. That princess is more of a lustful creature than a loving one."

"I knew someone who would've been..." I sighed, looking at the sea. "Though, mayhaps I wasn't the person for her to begin with."

"Alysanne?" Dorian asked, nodding. "Yes, you two were lovely. Alas... she is not with us. I'm afraid that the crown on your head will not make the pursuit of love all that easy."

"Shouldn't it make things easier?"

"Yes, many ladies will flock to you - but not for the right reasons. The Rose of Highgarden is one such example. Besides, you have your duty to fulfil... is that not so?"

"... Yeah." I looked up at the sky, which was full of stars. "Duty."

"It's all up to you, in the end... Kings have been plenty selfish and indulgent in the past. Mayhaps you could make them fall for you, truly."

"I only want one, Dorian. One with whom I can share my entire heart, soul, and life." I replied, speaking with my chest. "Just one."

"If you picked up a lyre and sang, Rhaegar would cry tears of shame from his grave..." Dorian laughed. "Though, I think I can find a suitable lover for you."

"..." I chuckled. "Not you too."

"It shall be one of my gifts." Dorian's eye flashed violet. "Eh... I said I wouldn't spoil any of the surprises, didn't I? How careless of me-"

"I don't need you to find a lover for me." I raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine."

"Ah, I shall find you the most brilliant of girls. Do not fret..."

"..."

Since he insisted, there was no changing his mind.

The Necromancer King Chapter 125: Under The Stars

"Married again, hm?" Doran Martell smiled slightly as he saw Aerion in private. It looked like the lord paramount had aged a decade or two. "The Dragon Emperor of the World… the man whom even the queens of the past cannot escape. Your magic has become capable of things most wouldn't even dream of. Even I find it hard to fathom…"

"Let me heal you."

"No… you've done enough, my dear nephew." Doran exchanged looks with Aerion, sighing. "Don't look at me with those big puffy eyes."

"Uncle…"

"I've made my peace with death. All the wishes I ever could've had have come to pass…"

"Why embrace death?"

"And why must it be fought?" Dorian questioned. "Perhaps one day, you will truly understand. Though… you were always restless. I believe you would sooner become a God than find peace with yourself."

“You would be right.” Aerion admitted, frowning slightly. “But… how could I ever find peace with the way things stand? I swore to restore the lives of those whom I hold dear. What kind of necromancer would I be if I could not achieve that end?”

“And who would you restore, Aerion… Ser Jaime?”

“One of several.” Aerion replied, nodding. “My Aegon and Rhaenys deserve to live.”

“Aegon and Rhaenys… they have been dead for many, many, years.”

“They are my full-blooded siblings.”

“They died as children, Aerion. However much you might dislike it… let go.” Doran sighed, shaking his head. “You are the Holy Valyrian Emperor, a man who should seek only the future for his people. The distant past should be left behind where it was.”

Aerion recalled a similar conversation with his mother. Letting go wasn't one of his strengths, not at all. He recalled the sweet memories they shared in that parallel world, where he had grown alongside his siblings.

“Come with me…”

He stood up slowly and walked alongside Aerion. They had a walk through the Old Palace’s walls, where Doran observed the sea beyond. The sun was falling slowly as night approached.

“The sun falls, and night comes. Yet, the sun always returns…” Doran observed. “The time of my sun has passed, Aerion. It is time that another takes my place.”

“... I disagree.”

“Always so stubborn and willful…” Doran smiled, raising his hand and patting Aerion’s shoulder. “I… hardly remember when you arrived at Sunspear for the first time. A boy of three, without an ounce of fear in his heart. So small, yet the shadow behind him loomed large as a dragon.”

Aerion saw himself run across the sands and leap into the sea. He saw himself spar with the Kingsguard, play with Arianne, the sand snakes and recalled all the lectures Doran would give him. How quickly he had wanted to leave home and fulfil his ambitions during those days…

He didn't quite see all that he had before him.

“...” Dorian looked at his expression and kept his smile. “You are a dragon like no other, Aerion. Do not weep for me. Do not mourn me. All I ask is that you remember all that I’ve taught you in the future that you seek to create. That is how I wish to be honoured.”

“I will miss you, uncle…” Aerion took a deep breath as he clenched his fist, observing the setting sun. He then relaxed and smiled. “Not just me… countless people will. You were one of the greatest Princes that House Martell ever knew.”

“Don't flatter me, Aerion.” Doran smiled, his eyes shining a little as he turned back to the sun. “Raising you was my finest act. In other matters, I was no better than most. Even then… you were born to be great.”

“You are too modest.” Aerion held onto the hilt of Ambition. “You are a man who put your people before all else. They didn't fight any needless wars and only knew prosperity under your wise rule.”

“Hm.” He nodded. “There is your Realm, the first Daenerys said…”

“Remember them, in everything you do.” Aerion finished, smiling slightly as he mimicked Doran’s voice. “It is an easy thing for a prince to call the spears, but in the end the children pay the price. For their sake, the wise prince will wage no war without good cause, nor any war he cannot win.”

“The best trait of yours when it came to teaching was your sharp memory, which would make valyrian steel cry in shame.” Doran chuckled. “The worst was when you refused to listen.”

“...” Aerion chuckled. “Forgive me, uncle. For being difficult at times.”

“You are still difficult.” Doran sighed with a smile. “... I wonder, if Rhaegar had known who you would grow to become, would he ever…”

Doran paused, shaking his head.

“No use in bringing ghosts to life. I know he would've been proud of you, however. As proud as any father could be…”

“I know,” Aerion remarked, recalling the short time they had spent in the trial of the mind. ‘His life’s greatest pride.’

“There is one thing I might ask of you. I wish for everyone in our family to gather in Sunspear. Do not tell anyone of my looming passing…”

“... Are you certain it’s what you want?”

“I would not seek to pass on a whim. I’ve given it quite some thought.” Doran smiled, shaking his head. “This life that I’ve led… has been most fulfilling. There is not much left for me here.”

“Mother, uncle Oberyn, my cousins… Arianne.” Aerion furrowed his brows. “I could extend your life for decades to come. Isn’t it selfish to deny my magic… it’s no different from killing yourself. Wouldn’t you want to see your grandchildren grow into their own? Your family needs you.”

“...” He took a deep breath. “How will I teach this lesson to you?”

“... Is that the reason why?” Aerion raised an eyebrow. “Uncle, surely there are better ways to do that than killing yourself.”

“You should cease chasing ghosts of the past and look towards what you do have, however hard it might be. If you had been here instead of your adventure into the past, would Ser Jaime have fallen? Your family needs you… and it is here.”

“...” Aerion stopped for a moment, acknowledging that Doran used his words against him. “Yes… you are right. If I had been here, there would be no rebellion in the first place. Even if there were one, I’d crush the rebels and have that witch’s head on a spike before the moon could turn.”

“What if next time you disappear for ten years?” Doran questioned. “Thirty? Fifty, a hundred? Do you know how to wield this power?”

“If I mastered it… I could walk the world at any time and return to the very moment I had left.”

“If you mastered it. How much time would you go through until you reached a fitting resolution?”

“As much as I need to.” Aerion reaffirmed with a determined gaze. “I am not one to speak false promises, uncle. Especially to those whom I love. I will conquer time and space itself if that’s what I have to do to achieve my ends.”

“Those eyes of yours, brimming with ambition and the will to carry it…” Doran observed, smiling. “Alas… it seems there’s no use in advising you to do otherwise.”

“Though… I will not leave as carelessly as next time.” Aerion promised, placing his hand on Doran’s shoulder. “When I do leave, it will be with every last matter set in order.”

Light magic flowed into his body and cleansed all impurities, leading to Doran looking far younger.

“You are not even sixty, uncle. You still have plenty more to live for.” Aerion’s smile went straight for the heart as he used blood magic to influence his emotions. “If you’re so tired of ruling, let Arianne take your place. She is more than eager to rule Dorne… in truth, I had intended her to. Advise the youth like you advised me. Plant the seeds of the future and see the majestic trees grow.”

“... You magical child.” Doran sighed, shaking his head. Suddenly, he had no will to die. If anything, every fibre of his being sought to live. “I… know that you did something.”

“For the greater good.” Aerion smiled, shaking his head. “You only wished to die because of the illness that had consumed you… but I’ve gotten rid of it. Instead of having everyone gather before your passing, it shall be an occasion to celebrate Arianne’s ascension to Empress.”

“Very well...” Dorian turned away from the sunset. “This old sun will shine a little longer.”

“More than a little.” Aerion chuckled, his face lighting up with an infectiously cheerful expression. “Come, old man. We have to make preparations for this grand occasion.”

‘Mayhaps one day I will embrace that lesson… but that day is not today.’

Aerion thought to himself.

~

1st day of the third moon, 303 AC.

It was as if the entire Realm had gathered once more to Aerion’s will, turning Sunspear into the liveliest city of all. Not only was it the day of Arianne’s crowning but also the Holy Valyrian Emperor’s very own name day. Men from across the known world came baring all the gifts they could muster.

Arianne looked absolutely stunning in her elaborate dress which put all others in the known world to shame. Today was her day, which lead to quite a number of envious expressions - especially among Aerion’s other consorts.

They gathered at the beach with thousands upon thousands of witnesses.

“I, Holy Dragon Emperor Aerion of the House Targaryen, First of my Name, ruler of all matter of men and women from West to East, North to South, Protector and Guiding Hand of the Known World… in my undying love, hereby crown…” Aerion raised the magical crown he had forged himself. “My first wife, Queen Arianne of the House Martell, as the Queen of Queens, Empress of Dorne! May no man, woman or even god command her… other than her most beautiful husband, of course.”

Arianne smiled as Aerion placed the crown atop her head. He spun his lady around and pressed his lips against hers. A round of thunderous applause and cheers followed, as the first Empress in Westeros’ history emerged.

…

They dined in the halls of the Old Palace, with Aerion sitting beside Arianne the entire time. He spoke of his victories in the Age of Conquest with slight alterations in the form of a song, taking her heart all over again.

“This feels more like a second wedding than a crowning.” Viserys smiled as he approached his nephew. “I am happy for both of you. Though, it does create a strange power imbalance… I am Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, yet an Empress presides over one of my Kingdoms.”

“Dorne will be independent from the Iron Throne and be ruled directly by my family,” Aerion replied simply. “I trust that you find no issue with that, Viserys.”

“If that is your desire, Your Magnificence.” Viserys lowered his head in a bow. He then smiled before raising his head again. “Enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, I will.”

Viserys raised his cup.

“To the House of the Dragon and Holy Valyrian Empire.”

Aerion did the same, nodding.

“To the House of the Dragon.”

They both drank up and Viserys, seeing that Arianne had Aerion chained down for tonight, decided to leave him to it with a smile. Jon, Robb and Artos came to the same conclusion. The boys decided to spend the night without him. Aerion eventually grew bored of sitting and stood up, taking Arianne with him.

“The night is calling me.” He spoke, smiling.

“And where might you be taking me?” Arianne raised an eyebrow, though her lips curled into an excited smile.

“We’ll have to find out.” Aerion spread out his wings and lifted her up, carrying his Empress across his arms.

“... You have no idea, do you?” She chuckled.

“I’m feeling adventurous.” His eyes glowed a wondrous lilac colour as a charming smile graced his godly visage. “This night is ours and ours alone.”

He took her to the skies, soaring ever so freely. The wind was light as he began slowly, increasing his pace over time. Then… he really sped up, giving Arianne an adrenaline rush and making her cling to him in fear of falling. He chuckled, keeping pace.

After some time, they made it to the Stepstones, where he landed on a little nameless island. There seemed to be some fishermen occupying the island… some of them observed Aerion with caution, and others with admiration.

“Leave.” Aerion simply commanded, and they obeyed without a word. He then turned to Arianne. “This seems like quite the little paradise for some lovemaking, don’t you think?”

“Anywhere is a good place with you, my love.” Arianne rested her head against his shoulder.

“Hm.” Aerion smiled, caressing the side of her face and brushing her long, thick black hair delicately. “The best part about that lavish dress is that I will be the one to rip it to shreds.”

“Don’t you dare…” She pouted slightly. “I find this dress to be quite pretty; I’ll have you know.”

“And I find that my lady looks far better bare…” Aerion moved forward to press his lips against hers, but she raised a finger against them.

“Before that… I want to become like you.”

“Like me?” Aerion raised an eyebrow as he questioned.

“I don’t want to grow old and haggard while you remain young as ever…” Arianne’s eyes twinkled with a bit of sorrow that grasped Aerion’s heart.

“So, Daenerys spilled the truth.” Aerion lowered his head slightly. “It has its benefits and disadvantages, most of which I’m able to avoid due to my magic… but you…”

“I don’t care if I can’t see the sun again. As long as I am with you forever… I will be more than happy with whatever consequences that it brings.”

“... Very well.”

Aerion bit his tongue and grabbed her finger, lowering it. He grabbed her face with his other hand and pressed his lips against hers. Then he bit her own tongue, moving his blood into hers. They kept kissing, and their enflamed passion only grew with each passing moment as they made love under the shining stars.

One soul, one heart, now and forever…

During that night, it felt more true than ever before.

Raiden's Storm Chapter 39: War Of Sisters

[Sansa's POV]

It had been a foolish, selfish, act... that was all Sansa could think from night to morning. She had forced herself on the King, her younger sister's betrothed, a young man who had been kind, honest and understanding with her. He had so simply stated that he had no love for her, and yet...

At that moment, her heart had spoken for her.

Edric was all she could ever dream of. His dashing, wild, black hair, the charming way he would smile and cheer, how swiftly her heart fluttered and warmed whenever they touched, his deep blue eyes that shimmered like the purest of lakes and would at times shine an alluring, magical violet with tones of sorrow that drew her to him.

How the knights and lords of the Realm beckon at his inspiring call, their banners fluttering under his. The youngest knight to ever live, the finest archer who ever walked and a mighty warrior without equal in the world. From the Lannisters to the Greyjoys to the Mountain Clans... victory and glory followed everywhere he walked.

Though a giant to her, he was anything but brutish. There was no place she felt more unworried and safe than his strong yet soft embrace. The same one she had cried a waterfall of tears into...

There is a reason why every lady vied for even a moment of his attention. He wasn't just her dream; he was every maiden's dream. She had prayed countless times to the old gods and the new, day and night.

He is a true knight, a hero... a true King... Sansa thought.

What was a Willas Tyrell to him?

She would rather stubbornly remain unmarried than see herself with anyone else.

'If only... he felt the same. How will I even face him now?'

After a depressed sigh, she got ready for the day.

...

Arya had grown more distant from her as time passed, focusing on her silly sword lessons before she left with Edric for the Vale. Ever since the war broke out and her father had left for the field, the number of times they had even eaten together could be counted on two hands. Only her eldest brother and mother could pull them together, if only for a short while.

Sansa supped with her lady friends and female companions when Arya entered the hall. Of course, she didn't wear any dress, but her appearance was distinctly cleaner. Sansa couldn't recall seeing her hair so straightly brushed and orderly braided ever before. Even so, despite looking more lady-like in certain aspects, she now wore her little sword at her side.

"Am I disturbing anything?" Arya questioned, taking a look at the ladies at Sansa's side.

"My lady, of course not." Margaery smiled, tilting her head slightly. "You are more than welcome to join us."

"..." Arya gave her a short, cold stare before sitting opposite Sansa. "Can you all leave? Except my sister."

"... If that is your wish, my lady." Margaery nodded with a sweet smile.

Even though she wasn't queen yet, she commanded some authority in the sense that she very well could be in the future.

Sansa observed as all of her companions left and left her alone with Arya. She didn't say much more, beginning to eat their food rather quickly.

"Slurp... slurp... slurp." Arya grabbed a bowl of soup and drained it down in an utterly unlady-like fashion.

Sansa didn't hide her disgust.

"How could someone like you be queen?" She blurted out, all of her bottled envy leaving her heart at once. If Arya wasn't in the way, she would be marrying him instead.

"..." Arya put down the bowl and looked at her. She didn't get angry as Sansa expected her to. Instead, the slightest of smug grins graced her lips. "By marrying the King, obviously."

"As if Edric would marry you," Sansa muttered, turning away.

"If he wanted you for his queen, he would've announced it a while ago." Arya countered, grabbing a piece of bread and munching on it. "I don't think he likes you as much as you like him."

Sansa clenched her soft palms. "He doesn't like you at all."

Arya frowned slightly before relaxing into a slight grin. "Where is your golden prince now? The one you said you loved with all your heart... your golden lion."

"..."

"He's rotting in a cell with the rats. Where he belongs." Arya chuckled. "Why don't you go and keep your prince warm? Maybe bring him food while you're at it-"

"Shut up." Sansa stood up, shaking her head. "I never loved Joffrey. I..."

"That's another lie. Lie, lie, lie... that's all you do. You lied about Mycah, and now you're saying you lied about Joffrey." Arya scoffed. "I bet you even lie about Edric. You just want to be the Queen, and you'd hop from one prince to the next-"

"That isn't true!" Sansa refuted, shaking her head. "I love Edric more than you ever could. I don't even care about being Queen... I just want to be with him. You took that away from me. You took him away."

The animosity in Sansa's eyes made even Arya a little uncomfortable.

"You're terrible at everything. You're ugly, you act like an animal, you're always so dirty... how could someone like you marry Edric?"

"Shut it!" Arya tossed a tomato, and it smashed against Sansa's face. "I hate you."

Sansa grabbed a handkerchief and cleaned herself, stepping away.

"If you had never... if you had never been born, he wouldn't have a reason to turn me away. I would be his lady... and I would mend his heart like you never could. He would learn to love me, and we'd marry, and we'd be happy-"

"It's never enough for you." Arya scowled. "You've always had everything. The beautiful red hair, the appealing blue eyes, the grace, the soft voice, all the courtesies, needlework, dancing, singing... the proper, perfect, lady. Better at me in every way that counts."

"..." Sansa paused, staring at her younger sister.

Despite their quarrelling, this moment... it felt like she saw into the heart of her little sister and understood her more than she ever did before.

"I'm not you..." Arya stood up, shaking her head. "I won't ever be."

"Arya, I..." Sansa realised that she had been far too harsh. It wasn't Arya's fault that she was betrothed to Edric.

"It's true that I never wanted to be a lady, but... it's the last thing our father wanted from me. He said Edric was as good of a match as any other... and he was right. He understands and supports who I am."

"Edric... I like him." Arya admitted, shaking her head. "And I won't give him up to you. You should find someone else to love, some fancy lord or knight... because Edric is my future husband."

Arya turned away and left in a hurry, as if the words she had spoken embarrassed her.

Sansa was left conflicted. She thought of how her father used to advise against them endlessly warring with each other.

'You are sisters. I expect you to behave like sisters.'

'I'm... a horrible sister.'

She sighed.

~

[Edric's POV]

I slept a good bit deeper into the morning due to my night owl activities. I got dressed and looked in the mirror. Last night was still fresh in my mind, as if it had happened only a moment prior.

'It's just a kiss...' I thought to myself. 'Nothing to get worked up about.'

"Your kindness was not left unrewarded." Raiden Shogun remarked, floating behind me.

I glanced back and saw her disapproving expression.

"I was just being courteous," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "It's part of being a knight... and a King. Besides, giving gifts to your family isn't all that strange."

"..." Raiden Shogun blinked and stared at me momentarily before turning away. "Do as you will, Edric Storm."

Only silence followed. I sighed, dropping myself on the bed. I wasn't interested in Sansa Stark - not romantically, at the very least. It's only logical to be kind to the eldest sister of my Warden of the North. In the end, she chose to kiss me. Granted... it would've helped if I didn't stand still.

The one time my hyper-focus doesn't activate, hah...

I chuckled.

"My Dear Shogun, don't be so envious." I looked at her purple braided hair. The sight of her back was just as majestic and alluring as the front. "You know what you mean to me."

"..."

"I wouldn't be here without you." I glanced at the insignia on the back of my left hand. "Honestly, I don't even know where I'd be. Life is always so... unpredictable."

"A raging storm could emerge from the calmest of days." Raiden Shogun remarked. "You are an unpredictable person yourself."

"... Am I?" I chuckled, looking at the fancy chandelier hanging from the ceiling. "I don't think that myself. I am a simple man with the simplest of desires."

"You might think so." She shrugged slightly. "But that doesn't necessarily make it true, does it? You doubted if you'd be a good King, yet here you are. Your people love and respect you, you've crushed all notion of rebellion, and the Seven Kingdoms have entirely submitted to you. Achieving peace, stability, and prosperity is of paramount importance to a ruler. You've attained all three in so short a time."

In truth, much of that would be attributed to my uncles, loyal lords and council members. Then again... ruling the Realm is not something one man alone can do, given just how vast it is. No matter how great a King is, he needs his supporters, administrators and advisors.

"Here I am..." I sat up, looking at the mirror again. "King Edric Storm."

"You'll be loved, your name will be sung across the Realm, and you'll protect its people like a true knight would..."

"..." Raiden Shogun turned to me as I spoke the last of Alysanne's words. "You remembered it word for word."

"I've only read the letter only once in person, yet it has resounded a hundred times in my mind."

I sighed, getting off the bed. I looked at the banner that hung to one corner of the bedchamber, the one she had made for me. That silly idea of merging four sigils, all in reversed colours. Targaryen, Estermont, Baratheon and Florent...

I took it inside of the Plane of Euthymia.

There was something I wanted... no, something I needed to do.

With momentary peace in the Realm, there likely wouldn't be a better time for it. I just needed to settle a few more things.

...

I set out for the streets of King's Landing alongside several companions, including Arthur, Bryce, Ragnor, Dallin, the Hound and some gold cloaks. We (mainly Arthur, Bryce and I) talked about a few things along the way to the top of the Street of Steel, where Tobho Mott's shop and house resided.

It was taller and wider than any other building on the street, towering over like a shadow. It was quite impressive up close. No doubt, Tobho Mott made a pretty penny selling his wares to be able to afford such an estate.

You know you're dedicated when you live on top of your shop.

As I entered through, a slim serving girl greeted me.

"You're... milor- Your Grace."

"Don't be shy." I chuckled, reassuring her. "I'm here to see the master of this shop. I'd like to commission a thing or two."

"Of course... I'll lead you to him."

She led us to a cavernous stone barn outside the house, where Tobho Mott was instructing several apprentices.

"Master... His Grace, the King, has arrived."

"..." He slowly turned, meeting my gaze. Afterwards, he gave a respectful nod. "Your Grace. It is an honour to meet you at last. Have you come here to commission a set of armour? Mayhaps another warhammer, or steel arrows that can penetrate plate-"

"Aye, my old armour's tight as a pulled bow-string. I would like to commission several sets of armour alongside mine, in truth." I nodded. "I'll tell you the details later. For now, I'd like to ask if you have any apprenticeship places open."

Tobho Mott took a look at the company behind me.

"Who do you have in mind?"

"... Bryce, Ragnor, Dallin. Does learning under the best smith in King's Landing intrigue any of you?" I looked back.

"The best in the Seven Kingdoms, Your Grace." Tobho corrected.

"The best in the Seven Kingdoms," I repeated, smiling slightly. "Well, don't be shy. I'll pay for it all."

"... I'd like to," Bryce spoke up. "I am no warrior like Ser Arthur, but I know how to work hard, Your Grace. I won't waste an opportunity to learn a valuable trade."

"Good man." I pat his shoulder. "I assume you two lads are more interested in martial pursuits."

"Yes, Your Grace." Ragnor nodded. "When I left the village, I set out to be a knight."

"So did I," Dallin added. "We are your squires, Your Grace."

"Hm." I smiled, nodding. "Very well. There is one more thing."

"Hm?" Tobho questioned.

"You have an apprentice by the name of Gendry, don't you? I'd like to meet him."

"..." He looked at me for a moment before nodding. "Of course, Your Grace. He is right there."

Gendry hadn't been all that far away. Yeah, he looked a bit like me. Older, sixteen... though a good bit shorter. He looked rather bewildered at the sight of me.

"How is everything?" I asked.

"I am well, Your Grace." He raised the slightest of eyebrows. "May I ask why you approached me?"

"We're fellow bastard brothers, of course." I smiled, stepping forward without dancing around the matter. "Half-brothers, yet brothers nonetheless. King Robert's blood."

"..." Gendry's mouth opened and widened as he was in shock. "King Robert was my... father?"

"Aye, he was quite charitable with his... you know." I chuckled. "Though I am King, I have never considered myself above helping my siblings. If there is anything you might ever need, I will support you wholeheartedly."

"Actually..." I wrapped my arm around him. "Why don't I show you around the Red Keep?"

"... That wouldn't be proper." Gendry hesitated, shaking his head. "I don't belong in a fancy court, look at me... I'm a smith-"

"Another bastard sibling." The Hound remarked. "There's probably enough for Edric to make a bloody army of those shits."

"The old King spread his seed far and wide," Dallin said.

"Ah, who cares about what's proper? At court, I decide what's proper." I smiled, shrugging my shoulders. "If you'd like, we can get you dressed like a pretty princess."

"... I'd rather not."

"Just one day won't hurt, my dear brother!"

...

I managed to get Gendry into the Red Keep and introduced him to everyone. However, before I could do much more, Arya confronted me with a frown.

"Where did you run off to?" She crossed her arms. "Did you forget your word again?"

"... No. I was merely bringing my big brother to court." I chuckled, glancing at Gendry and then back at Arya. "Gendry, meet Arya; my lovely betrothed."

"It's an honour, my lady." He bowed with some courtesy.

He clearly hadn't heard my sarcasm.

"Your big brother?" She blinked, raising an eyebrow. "Is he a smith?"

"Mhm. You have a keen eye." I nodded. "He's rather good at what he does, in truth."

"I am far lesser of a smith than you are a warrior, Your Grace." Gendry humbly remarked, shaking his head.

"A modest lad." I shrugged my shoulders. "Anyway, Gendry, enjoy yourself. Drink and feast like our father would."

I left Gendry to Renly before heading into the dungeons. Joffrey was initially placed on the second floor, where the highborn captives were kept. However, I had him moved to the black cells out of spite.

I walked ahead with a torch, lighting the pitch-black floor. Arya and Ser Arthur followed behind. At the very end of the floor was a face I hadn't seen in a long, long, time.

He had changed drastically since I last saw him. He had grown in height a little, his golden hair turning to a dirty brown. His once lively and hateful face was dried up of life. His body was thinner than ever, and I could see some of his bones even from afar.

Blud hasn't been eating...

"Ol' Joff." I addressed him, giving the torch to Arthur and taking out the key. I unlocked the cell door and stepped closer. "I'm surprised you're still alive and kicking. Us bastards tend to be quite stubborn, huh..."

"..." His eyes slowly looked up at me as he slightly tilted his head. "Edric... free... me."

"What for?" I blinked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll do... anything."

"If only you were so compliant before." I turned to Arya. "You still want to beat him? He looks beaten already to me."

Old Joffrey was more fun to play with. I'd tell him quite a few things if he was the same. Alas, this was just a husk that once was Prince Joffrey Baratheon.

"Why would that change my mind?" Arya raised an eyebrow. "Mycah died because of him."

She turned to Joffrey.

"Do you remember him, you bastard?"

"..." Joffrey blinked at a snail's pace. "... Who?"

He's so fucked.

I smiled slightly, stepping back.

"Have fun, Arya. Don't go too far."

"I won't."

She gave me the slightest of smiles. For a moment, she looked like a sweet girl. That's when I knew Joffrey wouldn't see light again.

She stepped ahead of me.

"Maybe this will refresh your memory..." She drew Needle and slashed at the side of his face, creating a sizeable gash. "I won't hurt you... much."

"Is this wise?" Ser Arthur raised an eyebrow as I joined him.

"Not even his father will miss him." I shrugged.

"I meant... your lady." Arthur looked concerned. "Would it be right for her to..."

"It's natural for a wolf to feast on its prey, Ser Arthur."

"... If that is your wish." Arthur reluctantly agreed. "I won't defy you."

"Still don't remember?" Arya tilted her head slightly.

"You... little wolf..."

Joffrey contemplated saying it, his fear of death sealing his tongue. It had not been all that long ago that he'd been able to curse at Arya freely. Yes, he recalled it. The time she whacked his head with a stick and threw rocks at him.

"... The butcher's boy." He finally said, taking a deep breath.

"What killed him?"

"The Hound... I told him to ride the boy down..."

She sheathed Needle and balled her fists, punching him straight in the face. It didn't look all that painful but then again, Joffrey had become a delicate thing since his imprisonment. She didn't stop there, kicking him in the face, kidney, dick... man wasn't having a good time.

"You..." Joffrey groaned in pain. "Little... wolf bitch."

"I'll make you pay for everything you did, you Lannister bastard.”

"Well, I got things to do." I pat Arthur's shoulder. "Take care of Arya."

"Yes, Your Grace."

As I assumed... Joffrey wouldn't see sunlight again.

Raiden's Storm Chapter 38: Maiden's Love

[Edric's POV, third]

After meeting with Oberyn and Dorian, Edric called for a Small Council meeting to get himself up to speed.

"It has been confirmed that Daenerys does, in truth, possess three dragons." Varys stated, glancing at Edric, who then swept his gaze across the small council as if to say, 'I told you so'. "And they are growing larger every day."

"Three dragons..." 

A nervous air swept the Small Council chamber. The last time three dragons from Essos invaded Westeros, all but one of its kingdoms had been conquered. Should these dragons be like those who came before and grow into adulthood, the same could very likely happen.

"The last dragon's skull was the size of an apple, my lords." Gormon Tyrell, the Grand Maester, informed. "The magic related to the dragons has died out over the ages. I doubt these dragons will grow all that large."

"Oh, they will." Edric sat back, the only one except Oberyn, with a calm expression. His lips curled into a slight grin. "Don't you see, the magic of the world is returning? I know the Citadel would dispute that truth even if it were in their face. Alas, those dragons will continue to grow either way."

"..." Gormon furrowed his brows for a moment.

"You seem quite laid back, Edric," Renly remarked, smiling slightly. "Do you truly believe that Ser Barristan alone would be enough to convince her to return without any grudges?"

"Not at all." 

"... Then, the most likely scenario is that she will one day invade the Seven Kingdoms with three fully grown dragons." Renly's expression turned more serious. "What will be done, then? She will no doubt seek the heads of all the supposed 'rebels'-"

"You're forgetting something, uncle."

"Enlighten me." 

Edric sat up and gave Renly a confident smile;

"You have me."

 Edric swept his gaze across the Small Council, giving everyone a momentary sense of confidence that washed away the unease. 

"Should Daenerys wish to tyrannise the Seven Kingdoms and refuse to act with reason, I will serve as the Lord Protector of the Realm and put down her dragons - whether by bow or storm. Dragons are creatures of land and sky, both of which the Seven reign over. Should they contest their chosen King, these dragons will not fly for long."

"His Grace does not lack for inspiring confidence." Alester Florent stated with a smile, taking pride in his royal nephew.

 "Aye, the Gods would be with us... and not that horselord's widow." Mace Tyrell added with a puff of his round chest.

"A fully-grown dragon would be too large and fast for a few arrows, even if they were fired by you, Your Grace... but lightning is a different matter," Stannis spoke, recalling the times he had witnessed Edric's storm.

"Speaking of which... while I fought against the mountain clans in the Vale, I found a way to combine both." Edric proudly announced. "Three good shots in the eye, and all three will fall with scorched eyes and shattered skulls."

"Well, aren't you a wizard?" Renly chuckled. "Mayhaps Daenerys ought to fear you more than we fear her dragons."

"She should." Edric nodded with a slight smile.

"I am curious about this ability of yours," Oberyn remarked, turning to Edric. "Is it magic or a blessing from the Gods? How do you do it?"

"I'd say it's a bit of both." Edric smiled. "I'll display it for you later if you wish."

"Hm." Oberyn nodded. "Certainly."

"What of the North?" Edric turned to Varys.

"Ser Jaime Lannister has begun his Night's Watch training in earnest, I am told," Varys replied, nodding. "Lord Tyrion has also sent several knights and man at arms from the Westerlands to join him with the reward of gold."

"To protect his treasonous brother, no doubt." Randyll Tarly scoffed. "I doubt the Northerners have much love for him."

"He should be dead to begin with," Stannis remarked, glancing at Edric.

"The Wall needs more than common thieves, murderers and rapists guarding it," Edric replied, facing Stannis without wavering a single inch. "If anything, having more able-bodied men join the Night's Watch is quite a benefit, regardless of the underlying intention. It might make more men inclined to join it, seeing as it has more than just a place for criminals to be forgiven."

"... Besides, I doubt he's having all that much of a good time up there. I believe a swift death would've been a mercy - if anything. The Black is a punishment that will last a lifetime for him."

Hearing that, Stannis pondered for a moment and reluctantly agreed.

They discussed the Iron Islands, which were taking a more peaceful turn under their new Lord Paramount Rodrik Harlaw. The Iron Fleet, while intentionally crippled to boost the royal navy, still boasted quite a number of ships. These ships had been turned into merchant ships used to trade with the Reach, Westerlands, North and even further beyond to Dorne and the Free Cities.

They had begun to develop a culture of trading, benefitting greatly from it, which encouraged that culture to grow even more. Whenever they were attacked by pirates, the Ironborn didn't forget who they were, either... and fought back fiercely. The Narrow Sea had grown a good bit safer because of this.

As for the Westerlands, they were recovering from the rebellion. Many of House Lannister's strongest supporters had lost sizeable plots of land in favour of loyalists across the Realm. Also, due to Edric's headhunting during the Dance of Lions and Stags, a few houses were crippled, if not extinct, in terms of highborn. A number of new faces had risen to power. 

Despite this and his infamy as the Imp, Lord Tyrion proved to be a capable Lord Paramount akin to his father. With his uncle Kevan's assistance, the Westerlands boasted growing stability and was on its way to regaining its title as one of the mightier kingdoms.

As for the Riverlands, its lands were recovering swifter than usual thanks to Lannister reparations and the aid of the Iron Throne. The Reach, Dorne, Vale, Stormlands and Crownlands were all doing well without any major issues.

Edric would send a raven informing Winterfell of Mance Rayder's future invasion alongside an offer of assistance should Robb Stark require it.

"There is one more thing... multiple, in truth." Edric suddenly spoke after catching up with all the latest news. "There are several large deposits of Dragonglass on Dragonstone. I want every bit of obsidian mined and turned into various weapons; daggers, spears, arrowheads and swords. Mainly spears."

"Hm... what for?" Renly raised an eyebrow.

"These weapons will prove crucial for Winter." Edric smiled mysteriously. "It is one of the few things that can put a walking dead man to rest."

"It will be done." Stannis nodded without much hesitation, putting more trust in Edric's decisions and the threat of Winter. After all, he had predicted the three dragons when no one knew anything about it. 

"Also, I want thousands of barrels of oil and as many pots of wildfire as possible," Edric added. "Put the pyromancers of King's Landing to work and pay them well. Once there is a substantial amount, I want both to be sent to the Wall, Castle Black, and various castles close to the Wall. Fire will play a crucial part in Realm's defence, and the more we have of it at our disposal, the better."

"None of that will be cheap, Your Grace." Alester Florent remarked, trying to do the rough estimates in his head.

"The millions of lives at stake are more precious than any number of gold dragons."

To that, Alester couldn't counter with anything except a nod.

Renly and Stannis agreed to take this matter seriously, fully supporting Edric's plan to arm the Realm with fire and obsidian. The rest of the Small Council followed, with Mace Tyrell going so far as offering a substantial amount of gold in the effort.

...

After the rather lengthy Small Council meeting that stretched into the night, Edric recognised that he felt weary. He was immediately faced with an impatient-looking Arya Stark, who was waiting outside of the Small Council chamber.

"Did you forget your promise already?" 

"No." Edric shook his head, raising an eyebrow. "Which one are you talking about, exactly?"

"Joffrey." Arya frowned slightly.

"Ah..." Edric stroked his chin. "Isn't it rather late for that? I said all day long, not all night long."

"... I've been waiting for the entire day." Arya crossed her arms, pouting slightly.

"... We got home to King's Landing today. I know you're excited, but give it a rest." Edric chuckled. "Tomorrow, you'll have plenty of time."

"... Fine."

"Besides, you need to get your sleep." Edric stepped closer, barely raising his hand and flicking her forehead. "You're tiny as it is... Gods know you need all the growth you can get, little wolf girl that you are."

A flash of irritation emerged on her face as she raised her leg and aimed to kick him in that very painful place... but he side-stepped and dodged her completely.

"How will I produce any heirs if you kick me there?" Edric raised an eyebrow.

"You won't!"

She answered simply, turning away with puffed cheeks full of air.

Edric turned back to Ser Loras and Ser Mandon. One wore a slight expression of amusement, while the other looked as dead as usual. 

"Ser Mandon, learn to smile more often."

"Is that an order, Your Grace?" He questioned with a monotone voice.

"... Sure." Edric shrugged.

Ser Mandon forced a smile that looked akin to that of a deranged and sadistic murderer. It reminded Edric a little bit of the creepypasta of Jeff the Killer. He glanced at Loras, who also looked at him as they shared similar thoughts.

"Never mind that." Edric smiled slightly, shaking his head. "Just... smile when you're happy."

"As you command."

He returned to his expressionless expression.

Edric went on to grab his heavy armour and headed out to the largest yard in the Red Keep. He proceeded to push himself through a strenuous workout session where he kept the armour on throughout. It was growing particularly tight around his entire body to the point that he felt like he was being actively squeezed.

Afterwards, he had another bath, changed into some clothes and had two armour stands placed in his bedchamber where he decorated the armours that had served him so well. He had the set of armour that won the melee of the Hand's Tourney and crushed two rebelling Kingdoms alongside the one he had used to combat the Mountain Clans of the Vale.

Observing the cut antler on his most prestigious armour set, he smiled.

'Goofy single-horned demon.' 

Despite intentionally draining himself... he felt strangely invigorated and couldn't quite bring himself to sleep. Instead, he decided to grab a book about siege engines from the library and went off to the Godswood of the Red Keep.

It was almost always a serene, empty, place... almost always.

~

[Edric's POV, 1st]

Sansa Stark sat against the Godswood, seemingly knitting a... Baratheon banner. It was the royal one, a black stag crowned with gold at its neck on a golden field. There seemed to be more to it, however. Upon closer inspection, I saw strands of purple depicting lightning striking down.

Despite taking on the Serpent discipline, my heavy feet weren't exactly stealthy. She noticed me and immediately stood up, straightening herself.

"Your Grace... am I-"

"It's no trouble." I smiled, stepping forward. "Sorry if I disturbed your needlework. It looks quite good."

"Uhm..." Sansa flushed red like an embarrassed young lady would. "I meant it as a gift for you, Your Grace... but it's not finished-"

"I appreciate it." I stepped next to the Godswood and sat down beside it. "Don't stand on ceremony, my lady. I'm just here to read a little."

"..." She nodded, sitting a good bit away and picking up the sigil she was working on. 

'Scorpions, catapults, trebuchets... I should expand my warband and gather a sizeable number of men to undertake these projects. Engineering could prove vital against the Others.'

I thought to myself as I read through the book. 

"So... how was the Vale?" Sansa suddenly asked, breaking the ice.

I drew my attention away from the book and turned to her. 

"It was quite the adventure, from all the fighting and travelling to helping some villagers improve their village. In my opinion, the Vale has far better scenery than King's Landing. Though... I am a person who naturally prefers the wilderness, so you can take that with a grain of salt." 

"You helped improve a village?" Sansa blinked.

"Yeah... in the grand picture, it does seem like a waste of time, but I felt like I learned a great deal from the experience." I gave her a hint of a smile. "You could say I was living my life as a knight."

"I see... no one ever talks about that part," Sansa remarked. "All they say is how you overcame the Mountain Clans with only a band of brave knights and your Kingsguard."

"Actually... I led a few Mountain Clans for a time. Though, they were destroyed in the final battle." 

"You did?" She blinked with surprise. Apparently, no one mentioned that part. "But the King working with outlaws-"

"They were my swords." I shrugged. "Were... because I never intended to keep them around. Merely, I was using them to fight each other. Not the most honourable thing, though, is it?"

"... Well..." Sansa lowered her head slightly. "You defeated them all in the end, didn't you?"

"Mhm. The number of good, lawful, men who died during that campaign was minimal. I consider that outcome more honourable than the act of using Mountain Clans is dishonourable."

"You're right." She agreed.

"Speaking of... I gained a few things along my campaign." I stood up, whistling to my falcon. It flew in rather swiftly, decelerating when it neared and landed on my hand. "This falcon is one of them."

"Oh..." Sansa's deep blue eyes lit up as she observed its white feathers. She stood up and took a closer look. "It's beautiful."

"Freedom, I call her. She likes to fly off from time to time." I smiled, rubbing its back. The falcon held its head high as it stood still and seemingly enjoyed my hand.

"Can I touch it?"

"You could try."

She slowly raised her hand to touch her head, but the bird instantly flapped its wings. Sansa retreated while I chuckled.

"Hum... I've never met a single person Freedom liked other than me." I scratched my hair. "My apologies, Sansa."

"It's alright..." Though she didn't sound upset, she did look quite disappointed. 

"Naughty bird." I frowned disapprovingly, raising my hand and forcing her to fly away. "Anyway... I have a gift for you."

"You do?" The look of disappointment in her eyes faded.

No, it's not a marriage proposal...

"Close your eyes, my lady. No peeking." I instructed with a stern-ish expression, and she obeyed. "Also step forward a bit."

Afterwards, I turned my back and planted my hand into my chest - opening the Plane of Euthymia. It was getting loaded with a bunch of trash that needed cleaning. I wasn't the most organised of people, clearly... my hoarding tendencies were catching up to me.

I found what I was looking for after a few seconds and dragged it right out. 

I wrapped it around Sansa and observed how well it fitted her. 

'Not too shabby.'

"You can open your eyes now."

She slowly opened them, looking down on her new cloak. Her deep blue eyes slowly widened with amazement.

"This... it's shadowskin." She recognised it, blushing slightly. "Did you hunt a shadowcat for it?"

"Heh... I'd be lying if I made up some story about me heroically charging into a shadowcat's lair and fighting it in single combat." I chuckled, shaking my head. "No, it belonged to one of the chieftains. A large and strong fellow... though, I must say, it looks far prettier on you than it did him."

"..." She chuckled and smiled. "Then you fought heroically all the same."

"Mhm..." I nodded, shrugging my shoulders. "I thought it would be rude if I went on such a long journey and didn't bring anything back to my future sister."

"Sister..." Sansa muttered under her breath, almost as quiet as a mouse. I could see the slightest of frowns. "Since you were away, Margaery and I had become good friends."

"Is that so?" I smiled.

"Mn... she spoke much of Highgarden and how beautiful it was." Sansa nodded, her eyes turning away from me. "She said that once I saw it, I'd never want to leave."

Oh... the Tyrells are plotting.

"Heh, even I want to go there." I nodded.

"... She also spoke about her brother, Willas Tyrell, an educated, gentle and intelligent lord with a good heart."

"Aye... that he is." I stroked my chin. "So, they want you to marry him, do they?"

"..." She nodded, smiling slightly. However, it didn't seem like a genuine smile; rather, it was one that took effort to put on. "Since you're the King and I was left in your care, I thought it best to ask you first."

"Is this... something you want?" I asked, looking into her eyes. 

She raised her eyes to look back at me before replying;

"Is it... something you'd want?"

Her look turned into a long gaze, an absent-minded one. The wind swayed, and my shoulder-length black hair followed gently. The moonlight dramatically shined over us and the heart tree.

Is it something I'd want...? Well, it could be good for the Realm in terms of unity, though it would also increase House Tyrell's influence, which comes with its own benefits and thorns. It's-

She tugged on her shadowskin cloak before stepping closer.

My eyes widened as she did something I hadn't expected at all...

She tiptoed up and grabbed my face - pressing her lips against mine.

I froze for a moment, blinking with a bewildered expression. Sansa had closed her eyes and engrossed herself in the act for several seconds before realising just what she had done.

She opened her eyes and observed my expression, withdrawing a step. 

"I'm... sorry... I shouldn't have-"

She turned away in embarrassment and sped away before I could process what happened. I was left alone as Sansa's kiss remained fresh on my lips. Raiden Shogun didn't do so well in hiding her distaste. She didn't say anything about it, however.

That... was my first kiss with a girl.

I had never thought it would happen today, nor was I particularly seeking it out. Nor did I ever think it would be Sansa, of all people... but it was. It was sudden, strangely sweet. When she stood up to me, it felt as if I had seen a glimpse into her heart and realised the feelings that she harboured for me.

I don't know what I had done to charm her so much... but I knew those feelings wouldn't wash away easily. Perhaps never.

Ultimately, I instinctively wiped my mouth with my sleeve as I used to when my mother would kiss me on the cheek. 

'What do I even do about this...'

I sighed, shaking my head.

I had plenty to think about as I called it a night and headed to bed.

Barbarian's Path To Multiversal Domination Chapter 4: Power of Persuasion

“My sweet pookie bear.”

“...?” Dennis paused for a brief moment as he heard a most familiar voice. He slowly turned, seeing his enchanting girlfriend in the most lavish of dresses. “Grace?”

“Don’t look so surprised, dummy. I sent you here... so it’s only natural that I can send myself too.” Grace chuckled, stepping closer and out of the Kingswood. “You’ve been having lots of fun, hmm?”

“Yeah.” Dennis nodded, grinning slightly. “I have never felt more alive.”

“Not even when you were raping me?” Grace pouted slightly.

“... You asked for it.” Dennis blinked.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“Hm... probably, yeah.”

“You’re so hurtful.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I do all I can to make you happy, and it’s never-”

Drop.

Dennis let go of his travelling bag.

Her emerald eyes widened as Dennis stomped forward and forcefully pulled her chin. He pressed his lips against hers, pushing her several steps back into a tree.

“Hmm...”

Grace closed her eyes as Dennis continued to passionately ravage her lips, taking them all for himself. They continued on as he lifted her up with his muscular arms, and she wrapped her slender, graceful legs around his torso. Her skin flushed a cherry blossom colour as Dennis paused briefly, sharing eye contact. Burning gold-hazel met emerald as their breaths hastened.

“Looks like all those months in this world turned you into a real man.” Her lips curled into the slightest of mischievous smiles.

“Maybe...” Dennis admitted, lowering and touching his head against hers. “I never realised just how beautiful my girlfriend was until I didn’t have her...”

“And a romantic-” Grace chuckled, tilting her head. “Maybe I should send you off more often, hmm?”

“Definitely.” Dennis grinned slightly. “I was born for this life. When God made me, he made me a fighter. A warrior whose blood only rushes for one reason and one reason only... domination.”

“You improved your vocabulary, too,” Grace remarked. “You know, I saw everything that you did. For a barbarian, you are strangely loyal.”

“You sound disappointed,” Dennis remarked.

“You were born to be free, Dennis.” She raised her hand and touched the side of his face. “You can do whatever your heart desires-”

“I’ve had over a hundred women throw themselves under me, begging,” Dennis replied, showing a hint of a smile. “Yet... none of them were you. I might be a barbarian, yeah... but I’m your barbarian.”

Grace smiled as they shared a moment. “This is the part where you say you love me, dumbass.”

“...” Dennis chuckled. “I’m a man of action, my Queen.”

He tore the top of her dress with one rough and swift tug. Grace’s eyes looked left and right as she raised an eyebrow.

“You’re going to fuck me in this forest?”

“I’m going to fuck you in this forest, right here, right now...” Dennis affirmed. “Any cunt who sees us is getting cleaved in half.”

“Oh my... you’re really in your element.” Grace giggled playfully.

“Go on, then... ravage me.”

Ravage, he did. Expeditiously.

All the way into the night.

...

Dennis had gathered a hill of corpses in the background. By night, they toned it back down, and Grace rested in Dennis’ arms by a campfire. It was all quite romantic as she leaned against his huge, warm figure, and his muscular arms embraced her gentler body.

“I don’t recall the last time you spoiled me so much...” Grace smiled, closing her eyes. “You might be a decent boyfriend now, by modern standards.”

Dennis chuckled, giving no reply.

“You don’t know how many friends have told me to break up with you,” Grace remarked, opening her eyes and looking up at him. “So many awful, scheming girls... do you know the first thing they’d do afterwards? They’d shamelessly go to you and ask you on a date. Since they’d be offering plenty of food, I don’t doubt that you’d be inclined to entertain them just for that.”

“It’s free food.” Dennis remarked, shrugging. “I like food.”

“Geez, if only they knew the efforts I have to go through to get you into my bed.” Grace sighed, shaking her head. “If I have trouble, beautiful and amazing as I am, then those ravenous harlots have no chance. All they can do is look at you and dream. Isn’t that right, Dennis?”

“Mhm...” Dennis smiled. “I’d take the food though.”

“Of course you would.” She chuckled, taking out her phone and checking some files. “You ever wondered how you look when you get excited?”

“...” Dennis’ eyes widened slightly. “You... are those all recordings?”

“Yeah, I could tooootally get you thrown in jail for sexual assault, damaging my property and hurting my feelings with naughty, naughty, words.” Grace smiled, glancing back at him. “Why the long face?”

“... Wow.” Dennis raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t shared them with anyone, have you?”

“Would you be embarrassed?” Grace giggled. “I wonder how your family would-”

“You are not sending anything to anyone.”

“What if I do it accidentally-”

“Then you’re not leaving this place,” Dennis remarked.

“You’re going to tie me up?” She smiled. “Sounds like a sweet deal to me.”

“...” Dennis sighed, shaking his head. “All you ever think about is sex-”

“And all you ever think about is fighting.” Grace shrugged. “Anyways, you wonder how many views we can get on Pornhub?”

“...”

“Muscular, tall barbarian invades the royal keep and ravages the busty blonde queen in front of the King...” Grace placed on finger on her lip in thought. “I’d need to tinker with the background a bit with some editing but it cooould work-”

“Fuck that.” Dennis grabbed her phone and tossed it high and far into the air.

“Fuck me.” Grace countered, tilting her head.

“...” Dennis couldn’t help but laugh at his truly unsatiable woman. “What did I do to deserve a perverted girlfriend like you?”

“Everything.”

“Why the fuck do you keep all the recordings anyway?” Dennis questioned, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure you wouldn’t actually share it with anyone.”

“Of course, our pleasure is ours alone.” Grace nodded, pouting slightly. “Buuuut... your semen retention hermit ways tend to leave my bed quite empty. What does a poor Grace do all alone, in her little apartment?”

“No fucking way.” Dennis chuckled. “You use it as stimulation.”

“Quite so.” Grace smiled, resting her head on his chest. “Besides... it’s a way of storing memories forever. You were soooo clumsy and sweet the first time despite your entire body burning with lust. It was adorable.”

“... Actually, I’d like to see it.” Dennis suddenly blinked with curiosity. “How do I look after you drug my drink with all those aphrodisiacs?”

“Well, you tossed my phone all the way to Madagascar.” She raised an eyebrow. “How am I supposed to show you, hmm?”

“Didn’t your phone appear out of butt-fuck nowhere?” Dennis questioned, shrugging. “I thought you could pull it out anytime, anywhere...”

“I’m a witch now, apparently.” She chuckled. “Theoretically, I could... buuut you absolutely shattered it. It’s an expensive phone, you know. Probably worth more than your life savings. Who am I kidding? You don’t even have any...”

“... Someone wants to get raped again.”

“Someone does.”

Grace turned her body to him and pushed him down.

They continued on...

~

The following morning.

They both looked like an absolute mess. Grace got herself a new dress, brushed her hair and spent over an hour perfecting her appearance. She had teleported an entire makeup station into the Kingswood to do so. Meanwhile, Dennis impatiently waited - tapping his feet.

“Who are you trying to look so pretty for?”

“Myself... and my tsundere boyfriend.” She glanced at him, showing a hint of a smile. “Not much longer now. Go do some pushups or something.”

“If I knew you’d be taking five years for this shit, I would’ve started ages ago.”

“I thought that I’d mention that the prince you’re trying to kill, Aegon, and his sisterwife are both in the Westerlands... the kingdom you left.” Grace chuckled. “Casterly Rock, to be precise.”

“What?” Dennis blinked in disbelief. “Wouldn’t they go to the fucking capital since they’re royals?”

“Not in this case.” She shook her head, putting up one finger. “You see, their uncle, Maegor usurped the throne. You do know what that means, right?”

“... Fuck me.” Dennis cursed. “You’re telling me I ran all this way for months... for nothing?”

“Well, on the bright side, you look smoking hot.” She smiled, shrugging. “Look at those Herculean calves... you could cut diamonds with those. Besides that, Maegor has a very fancy sword called Blackfyre and the largest dragon in the world; Balerion. If you could take both of those from him...”

“Aegon would piss himself to death over fighting you.”

“What’s so special about that fancy sword, though?” Dennis raised an eyebrow.

“It’s like a medieval lightsaber - especially when used by an incredibly strong man like you.”

“A lightsaber...” Dennis stroked his chin. The prospect was surely tempting. “Well, I’m here, so I might as well. I’ll take the sword and the dragon, fly over to that Egg and cook him.”

“What about Rhaena?” Grace questioned with a curious expression.

“What about her?”

“She’s pretty beautiful, isn’t she?”

This was a landmine for any boyfriend.

“I guess,” Dennis replied with an unbothered expression. “She’s a bit annoying and pampered.”

“Apparently, she could be a lesbian...”

“Is that right?” Dennis chuckled. “Good for her.”

“Instead of killing her, why don’t you show her what a real man is like and absolutely ruin her regal body?” Her lips curled into a most mischievous smile. “Degrade her and flood that bitch princess lesbian in your white fluids-”

Dennis blinked, interrupting her. “What?”

“What?” Grace blinked, acting like she said nothing. “I meant there’s no point in killing weak girls, you know?”

“...” Dennis chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

...

After she was done, they continued the journey to King's Landing. Some guards came to investigate the murders of half a hundred residents, only to be misled by Grace's soft words - rather than Dennis' axes.

He killed them anyway.

"You don't have to kill everyone." She raised an eyebrow. "Even though you're a barbarian, you could try to be more diplomatically savvy."

"You can be diplomatic if you want. I'm sure these guards will not attack me after I cleave their King in half."

"The more the merrier."

The bloodied Dennis was stopped at the Lion Gate of King's Landing, where a dozen of the City Watch cautiously observed him. They went so far as to close the gate before he could enter.

"Where do you come from?" One of the guards on the walls questioned.

"..." Dennis furrowed his brows. "Blyat."

"Blyat?" The guard blinked. "Can't say I've ever heard of a place called that."

"We come from the Westerlands, my good ser." Grace smiled, stepping forward. "My husband here is a sellsword looking to pledge his sword to the service of King Maegor, the first of his name."

"Why is he all bloody?"

"We were ambushed by a large pack of bandits in the Kingswood who wished to take advantage of me. He bravely rose to the occasion, brave warrior that he is, and put them all to rest. Without him... I don't know where I would be."

Grace put on a sweet-sounding and innocent voice, which more than charmed the guards.

"With the Realm at war, the wilderness is more dangerous than ever." The captain nodded. "His Grace could always use more swords, especially a mighty man like that."

They opened the gate and let him right in. Grace turned back to him, tilting her head.

"See?" Her lips curled into a hint of a smile. "Diplomacy."

"I wouldn't have been able to force my way in alone." Dennis admitted, nodding. "Then again, I'm not a beautiful golden-haired woman."

"You're no prince charming either." She chuckled.

They entered the growing King's Landing and walked through the streets unchallenged. Given her attire and appearance, many thought of Grace as a wealthy lady of sorts and Dennis as her beastly knight.

The Red Keep was still being constructed, though it was more than half-way complete. Dennis was stopped at its grand entrance, where more guards stood. Half a dozen, to be precise.

"What is your purpose for approaching the Red Keep?"

"I want to fight for the King." Dennis gave persuasion a try for once.

Very clearly... he was not good at it.

"..." One of them chuckled.

"We mean no offence, good ser... but a man simply doesn't enter the Red Keep just to pledge their sword-"

Dennis put down his massive bag and took out the twin axes he had grown fond of. Suddenly, the expressions of the guards changed. They drew their swords.

"You fools, this is Ser Royce Baratheon, the youngest brother of Lord Rogar Baratheon!" Grace furrowed her brows. "You would do well to step aside, or he will carve you six like loaves of bread. Baratheon's are well-known for their mercurial temperaments."

"Ser Royce..." One of them remarked, eyes widening. "Forgive us, Ser. You may enter. His Grace would be most pleased to have him in your service."

"Hmph." Dennis stepped forward, brushing his shoulder into one of them before entering. When they did, Dennis smiled slightly. "You're way too good at this."

"You owe me a few favours now." She smiled.

They slipped past the main hall, with Grace talking her way through everyone until they reached the tunnels where Maegor was directly overseeing their construction. He had half a hundred builders with him and four of the Kingsguard.

"Who might you two be?"

Maegor was curious about the both of them. Grace's beauty was certainly eye-catching, and Dennis' imposing physique was one quite unlike any other. As a fellow warrior, he knew just how rare it was.

"I am Dennis Mertvago," Dennis spoke the truth.

"... Dennis Mertvago?" Maegor's eyes widened slightly, and his lips curled into a strange smile. "The fiend who slaughtered a thousand of those religious beggars and rescued my helpless nephew and niece?"

"That's right..." Dennis eyed his sword. He liked it. "All I got for it was poisoned food and wine."

"... My apologies." Maegor shook his head "They are young and foolish. If you truly are who you say you are, I'd like you to serve me instead. A warrior like you needs a proper master-"

"I'm done helping silver shlyuhas." Dennis raised one axe. "Me and you, one on one. The better warrior lives."

Maegor drew Blackfyre, stepping in front of his Kingsguard.

Despite hearing news that he had defeated a thousand men alone, Maegor doubted it was possible. Even so, he hadn't had a good fight in a long time despite being a naturally violent man - not too dissimilar from Dennis. He couldn't resist the temptation of testing his metal against this so-called 'demon'.

"Very well, I will entertain you. Blackfyre hasn't had a drop of red in some time."