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One Giant Growth Spurt (ASOIAF Giant SI)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Flightless Man, Sep 8, 2021.

?

Do I play nice with Rhaella?

Poll closed Oct 1, 2021.
  1. Yes. Go straight to Stepstones

    9 vote(s)
    17.3%
  2. No. Attack Dragonstone

    10 vote(s)
    19.2%
  3. Middle of the road. Work with her

    21 vote(s)
    40.4%
  4. Dies in childbirth

    12 vote(s)
    23.1%
Loading...
  1. Threadmarks: Chapter 7: Keeping Track of Time is Hard
    Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Chapter 7: Keeping Track of Time is Hard
    283 AC

    The Godswood of Winterfell is calm when Benjen Stark leads me inside. His four and ten body makes him look far more like Jon Snow than I would have expected, but that should only make things easier for me.

    He’s nervous... as he has every right to be. My insistence on speaking with him alone has him cautious and I know his guardsmen are already moving to windows with a view.

    Kneeling in front of the white tree and it’s weeping face, is a woman in her sixties tending to a distressed teen. I can easily recognize the younger Hodor from Bran’s flashback, but the word he’s muttering is different.

    Walder hears my approach and jerks upright with terror in his eyes. “Giles!” He jumps to his feet and tries to shield the woman smiling indulgently behind him.

    “It’s alright Walder, he’s just too big to have his meeting in the Lord’s solar.” Not quite as Old Nan smiles at me, her mouth only missing two teeth to my surprise. “Sorry Lord Benjen, you know the Weirwood is the only thing that calms him when he has a fit.”

    “Giles,” Walder agrees, his eyes watching my every move with distrust.

    I smile back and do my best to calm down the kindest man in all of Planetos. “It’s okay, Walder smells like a Giant.” Taking a large whiff of his scent to proof my words, I nod happily in confirmation. “He’s from the line of the Green Queen, he won’t tell anyone what we talk about.”

    Giving me an expression of gratitude, Nan pulls her grandson back down to the furs. “Come on Walder, you still need to move all that hay. So let’s get you calmed down, do you want to hear the story about Sir Duncan the Tall?”

    “What happened to him?” I’m pretty sure everyone has seen that clip by now, so why is he calling himself Giles?

    “A few years ago he had a seizure and now that’s the only thing he can say.” Explains Benjen in the same quiet voice I used. “It’s cruel, but people are starting to just call him that as his name.” He looks distraught and actually decides to vent to me.

    “My brothers would have stopped it with just a look, Lyanna would have just smacked the ass out of them.” That’s my opening, time to be delicate.

    Sitting down carefully so as not to scare the birds in the grove, I pat the ground beside me for the Stark in Winterfell. “She’s what I want to speak with you about.” More black birds than I would have guessed, but I guess they’re just the ones Maester Walys couldn’t train.

    “What would you give, to have her home safely?”

    His eyes flash with guilt and he only says one thing with his grief stricken voice. “Anything.”

    I carefully make my face take on a look of contemplation. “You aren’t blameless in her disappearance… are you?”

    “She needed a squire!” He blurts out, glad to finally admit his hand in everything. “One who would keep his mouth shut and look smaller than her...” Benjen looks up at me and tears start to well up in his eyes.

    “I have seen many things in my lands of snow and ice.” It’s not the time for a big speech, but I do still need to make it sound authentic. “I know where she is and what will happen if I do nothing.”

    He waits with baited breath, desperate for a happy ending in my words. “What happens to her?”

    “She dies.” Blunt as a rock slide, I hammer home my knowledge. I need him desperate so he’ll agree to my offer, but I’m starting to feel like a bad guy. “Locked in a tower Ned and the Lord of the Reeds will be the last to see her alive.”

    “Ned finds her?” Benjen pleads for some kind of good news.

    “But far too late for her to live.” I have to ease up, or I’m going to be the one breaking down. “He does save her son and keep him safe, in body if not mind.”

    He doesn’t like me slandering his most impeccable brother and snarls back in defiance. “Ned would never treat blood poorly!”

    “No, but when her bastard is possibly seen as a Blackfyre?” I smirk as his lips form a silent ‘Oh’. “Your brother will taint his honor and claim his as his own, but this will only bring shame to his new lady wife...”

    I trail off and let him put the pieces together himself. “Brandon’s betrothed!”

    “Will not like having her husbands dishonor living beside her true born children.” He growls at this and I need to explain before his opinion of Catelyn forever tarnished. “Especially when Ned will not tell her the truth. Family, Duty, Honor, are Lady Cat’s family words and she will never be given a chance to live up to them.”

    Smiling down at his conflicted scowl, I try a softer approach. “What happens to the lone wolf when winter comes?”

    “It dies.”

    “So we mustn’t allow your brother to split the pack,” He looks up and locks eyes firmly with me, a new determination is flowing from him. “Which means you can’t be running off to the Wall once this is over.” He blinks in shock at my claim.

    “...How?”

    A deep rumbling laugh works its way up from my belly and I release it in the face of his utter shock. “I told you, I saw things in dreams of green. If you want your nephew both safe in body and happy in heart… you’ll need to do something.”

    “I’ll do it,” He immediately blurts out, eager to do something and get rid of his overwhelming guilt.

    “Good. Then while you and Osha plan your wedding, I will recover your sister.” Smirking at his stunned confusion, I let another giggle slip out. “You’re the youngest Stark and farthest down the line, you having a son will not be a threat to the Lady of Winterfell.”

    Benjen sighs but has no other options. “Do I have to?”

    “I promised my girl a castle and I’m promising you a sister, seems like everyone’s getting what they want here.”

    “But you just said I’m claiming my nephew… because I don’t have a claim to this castle?”

    “So I’ll need to get you another one,” I shrug and take on an expression of false thought. “How about something in the Reach?” His wide eyes and silent voice give me nothing to work with, so I keep making suggestions. “What about a keep in the Stormlands, or maybe Dragonstone?”

    “Well, think about it or I’ll just pick something I think you two will like.”

    I was shocked to learn the Rebellion happened over nearly a year and that the Northern banners haven’t even been called yet. Ned’s raven had only arrived just days before myself, letting us know he and Robert are only now leaving the Vale.

    Months ahead of everything I had planned, I’m starting to realize the best route to Dorne may just be a straight march. Storm’s End end won’t become under seige for months, the Trident and sack of King’s Landing are almost at the end of the war.

    Heck, even Lyanna is months away from needing an urgent rescue. I really need to adjust my plans and prepare with the time I have before Ned arrives.

    “You should call the banners for Ned, he should arrive before the last of them have gathered.”

    “But what if-”

    I cut Benjen off with a shake of my head. “What if the Stormlands do the same as the Vale? The alliance needs the North and it needs you in the Riverlands yesterday.” My words fill him with dread, but he does agree eventually.

    “I’ll call the banners and have them ready to march on my brother’s command.” He stands with me, only to frown when I motion for him to wait.

    I bend at the waist, my head going all the way down to Benjen’s chest. “Beyond the Wall we have too much snow and ice to kneel, this is how we seal an agreement.” I’m not getting down on my knees every time I meet someone, this is going to have to be enough for the Southern Lords.

    “You bring my sister home safe and I’ll marry Osha,” He agrees finally and follows me in a bow, the crowns of our heads briefly touching.

    “Good, now I’m going to need some armor… I’m kind of a big target.”

    Wincing at having to reveal any fault with Winterfell, Benjen is forced to admit a flaw in my idea. “We don’t have nearly enough metal for that.”

    “Layers of cloth will be have to do but make sure it’s all dyed black.” I smile and start to get excited over having real clothes again. “I’ll need a seven colored cloak, in honor of the Old Ones. Ironwood will have to do for extra protection on my head, shoulders, knees, and toes.”

    Benjen gives me a strange look when I sing the last few words and adds the parts I forgot to protect properly. “Shins, hands and forearms all need it as well. It’s not going to hurt much if you hit someone with a foot of padding.”

    “Oh I need a wagon!” I clap my hands in glee, making most of the birds scatter to the sky. “A bunch of wheels and a few pole I can slide them all onto!” I hurry to my feet, eager to get these preparations underway as soon as possible. “If you have any pitch, I need as many barrels as you can spare… I’m going to make an entrance in this war.”​
     
    Last edited: Sep 13, 2021
  2. CmirDarthanna

    CmirDarthanna Connoisseur.

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    Ironwood should be tougher and more shock absorbent. Though it better be properly treated so it doesn't immediately catch on fire. Can't have the protag die do to dry wood.
     
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  3. Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    It's so he can float/swim, so it should hopefully stay wet and avoid this.
     
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  4. CmirDarthanna

    CmirDarthanna Connoisseur.

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    Untreated wood is already difficult to set fire but a little extra preparation wouldn't hurt.

    Say, is his sense of hearing, touch, and pressure heightened? I want to see him pull off something similar to Toph.
     
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  5. Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Hearing is better as is sense of direction, elevation.

    My sense of touch is numbed, but not nearly as bad as my vision. Think really thick callouses over the entire body.
     
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  6. Threadmarks: Chapter 8: Lessons With the She-Bear
    Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Chapter 8: Lessons With the She-Bear
    283 AC

    “That’s not going to work for much longer,” Maege Mormont pulls the wheezing Benjen out of the mud. “You’re bigger than Lord Benjen here.” But he’s hit his growth spurt now and will be looking down on you in a few moons.”

    She shows Osha the proper way to use a mace against a bigger foe, growling at every error fierce enough to cow even Teddy. Maege has shown me a few techniques, but had to admit even she can’t teach me much.

    “Go fer his knees and hands first,” She explains with an eager grin, before showing Osha how to do exactly that. “Then ya can go and cave in his rib cage while he’s laying flat on his back.”

    “He’s gotta fight like a wolf with his sword, snapping at the weak points in your armor.” Laughing with his sister, Jorah doesn’t seen to have been informed of my warning. “But you and my sister have to fight like a mother bear.” Or else he’s a lot better at hiding his dislike of someone than I am.

    Six year old Dacey takes this opening to roar like a bear and roll about on Teddy’s back. When she nibbles on his ear, only Maege’s intense stare has the bear settle back down in annoyance.

    “Male bears are bigger.” Maege hooks her mace behind a distracted Jorah’s heel and flips him onto his back. “So we gotta be aggressive and make our own openings.” The mud splatters everyone close by, but the kids are far too amused for anyone to seriously mind.

    “Well said Maege and thank you for showing Benjen how dangerous a she-bear can be,” Shocking even me, Ned Stark has managed to return to Winterfell unannounced. “But please forgive my confusion my Lady.”

    He has what has to be over a hundred men behind him. “I came home to call my banners, only to find the Manderlys ready to escort me home from the Bite.” I can recognize the merman sigil on many shields, with the crossed keys of House Locke also among them.

    “Ned!” Benjen forgets himself and drops his sword in the mud, throwing himself at his brother. “You’re alright.”

    “I am,” He pats the younger Stark on the back, before letting him go and giving me long stare of consideration. “But how did you know to do all this?”

    “Duke Bigfoot saw everything in his green dreams,” Benjen throws all of the blame on me. But I can’t really blame the kid, not after everything I’ve thrown on him the last few weeks. “He’s going to bring Lyanna home!”

    Ned’s eyes go wide for half a second, before hardening into deadly focus. “You know where my sister is...” He lets the words hang in the air, a definite warning to not screw this up.

    “I know where she will be,” I explain slowly. “My son has remained in the North to rally our people against the coming winter, but we keep our oaths.” My words echo in the courtyard, no one else has spoken since Ned announced his arrival. “While he deals with the Wildlings who have abandoned the First Ways, I have come to aid the Storm King.”

    “Robert?” The new Lord Stark realizes instantly, proving he isn’t dumb by any means. He’s simply inexperienced with the politics used in the South, like those same Southerners would be here. Heck.. all of them would be equally helpless in Dorne.

    “I could not avenge his parents, but I will rescue his bride!” I bellow at the crowd, not even a fiber of doubt in my voice as I get caught up in my own hype. “Because the true war is coming and if the Realms of Men are not prepared…” I let the words hang heavy in the air, as all listening lean forward for the rest. “The night will not just be long, it will be eternal,”

    “We’re all just supposed to believe you know the future?” The cold and calculating voice of Roose Bolton interrupts my speech. “And you have only now chosen to make use of this...”

    While the crowd starts to mutter words of agreement, I just lean against my massive maul. “I don’t see everything and not always the same way.” Sometimes I watch the show and sometimes I read the books. “But the big events are almost always the same. My line swore to warn our descendants when the Children made their final attempt to purge us all and here I have come!”

    “If you wish proof of my claims, send a raven to the Storm King.” Let’s get me some events that my presence should yet to have had any effect on. “Robert’s battle against his traitorous banner-men should be soon decided at the Hall of Summer.”

    Ned waves for someone to fetch the Maester and pen the letter. “In my dreams he loses seven times, but only wins thrice against Randyll Tarly at the Ford of Ashes.” I go for a somber tone now. “In only one dream does my kin emerge uninjured, but that is also how many times I see him slain.”

    “Make sure you and your men get a good nights rest,” Wasting no more time, Ned starts bellowing orders to the assembled Lords and Ladies. “We leave for Moat Cailin on the morn. I’ll host you all for supper tonight and your oaths can be sworn to me then.”

    “I’d best give you my gift now, I know the little Lord has been eager for his own.” I give Benjen the signal and he dashes into the kennels, emerging with the pups chosen for himself and Ned.

    “Look what Dok Tur brought us from beyond the Wall!” He’s claimed the brown furred one for himself and thrusts the excitable grey one at his brother. “This one’s for you, he’s the alpha of the pack.”

    “How many men do you see us needing?” Ned seems willing to believe me for now, at least until Robert’s route can be confirmed.

    “I’ll need six, but you’re a Lord Paramount now...” He goes a shade paler. “You’re needed on the field commanding your army.”

    Ned attempts to argue, but my sensible words have been rehearsed many times already. “I’ll need faces Lyanna trusts and people you know are loyal to the Starks before any other.” All of his banner-men puff up at this, hoping desperately to be chosen for this vital task.

    “I assume you have some in mind already?” Man, everyone really does underestimate those from the North.

    “Jorah Mormont I have seen achieve honor on many fields, I would have him come on this task.” I turn to his sister and give a pleading look. “While Maege I would ask to train my daughter as a warrior fierce as a bear.”

    Ned sees no reason to argue and makes his own suggestions “My sister would trust few more than Howland Reed... he should go with you.”

    “I’ll need an Umber with me, so I can have my kin teach me your ways.” Scratching my chin, I consider who else could be of use. “Once we meet with the Arryn and Baratheon forces in Riverun, I should take an escort from each of them as well.”

    A memory flashes before my eyes, one of Lysa Tully suckling a child far to old for it. “You had best send Lord Arryn a raven too, his heir should not be marching beside him in battle. If he does, the Sept of Stones will be his grave.”

    “All of these wild claims...” Roose speaks, his chilling voice only just above a whisper.

    “Will be either proven true by time we reach Riverrun, or my lies will be exposed for all to see.”

    Exhaling slowing, Ned weighs everything I have said in his mind. “If it’s all falsehoods, we will soon know. But humoring him while we march does us no harm.”

    “If my words prove untrue,” If that happens I’m screwed and the best I can hope for is a quick death. “In the name of Thor – Warrior of the Seven Kings and Queens of Old – I swear my life as forfeit to the justice of Ice.”

    “Well let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Ned snorts at my theatrics, but is clearly impressed by what he thinks is forthrightness. “I don’t think even Ice will get through your neck in one swing and that would just bring dishonor right back on me.”

    Quirking my lips into a smile, I try to get the glare out of Osha’s eyes. “What if I put my head on a table for you, would that make it any easier?”

    “Might be better If I let Robert borrow Ice for that, he could really put his back into it.” He pauses and frowns at the Broken Tower. “What happened to the door?”

    Benjen comes to my rescue. “I had it made into a shield for Dok Tur. But I made sure it was stained grey… didn’t have time to get it engraved though.”

    “It’s big enough I still think I should quarter it with your allies in the South’s colors.” I’ll have some time once we get to Riverrun, Hopefully Hoster Tully can get someone to spruce up my shield. “And have the symbol of all four animals on the front, united for the world to see.” If that doesn’t help my cause with at least four of the kingdoms, I have no idea what else I can do.





    Notes: I know wolves don’t really have Alphas how it is comely understood, but people in Westeros definitely still believe it.

     
  7. Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Winter Comes: is a Night King SI.
    The Stonelord: Is a Half Giant on Skagos SI.

    I haven't read either yet, but they are the only other non animal/non human SI's I could find and figured I should be supporting non human fics.
     
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  8. Maydae010401

    Maydae010401 Getting sticky.

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    Man I remember that Night King SI I really loved it actually. Could you post a link for the Stonelord one?
     
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  9. Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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  10. Threadmarks: Chapter 9: Moment Of Truth
    Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Chapter 9: Moment Of Truth
    283 AC

    Ned frowns at me as we part way before Riverrun. “I should be going with you.”

    “Spend this time with the Lady Catelyn, it will be next year before you have this chance again” I chuckle at the sound of the Tully gate clanking open. “The Storm King can finally put your doubt to rest upon his arrival.”

    “You warned me a Giant was with you, but I admit this is not what I expected.” Hoster Tully greets us with all three of his children lined up quietly behind him. “I thought you just had someone the size of that Clegane knight with you.”

    His eyes trail over my new attire and I can see him already far more pleased with this alliance. The nearly foot thick wool is dyed the color of Blackwater Bay, with Ironwood sewn inside almost like studded armor.

    The massive antlers look regular size on my Weirwood Helm and my cloak of seven stripes casts an impressive sight for the Tully’s first impression of me. Hoster’s gaze is drawn to my shield, his eyes shining in pride at the quarter displaying a trout.

    “Desmond Grell will show you the way,” Waving forward one of his men, Hoster goes over his credentials. “He’s my new Master of Arms, so please try and bring him back in one piece.”

    “My thanks Lord Tully.” Giving him a shallow bow, I move my smile towards Catelyn and her siblings. “You have beautiful girls and I only hope my own find half as good a match one day.”

    Grabbing my basket that is already growing too small for a pair of wolves, I place it on the ground and remove the lid. The black and white wolves come out at once, eager to smell this new place filled with game.

    “The black wolf was to be Brandon’s, but I was a month too late in my arrival.” Pushing the pup towards a stiff backed Cat, I manage to hide my amusement. “She should be yours now, so you and the North will both know you are a Stark.”

    Coughing behind me, Ned interrupts my attempt at earning good favor. “Aren’t you forgetting something Duke Bigfoot?”

    “Oh yeah...” Sighing in embarrassment over being called out like this, I hope Frey hate here really is as bad as it seemed. “Lord Tully. I must beg your forgiveness and promise to make any repairs you deem necessary to your land.”

    His eyes narrow in concern for what I could mean. “What happened?”

    “Lord Stark’s men needed to cross the Green Fork, but I would not allow him to pay the Freys.” He looks happy, but Hoster is doing his best to look impartial. “I decided it was more prudent to dam the river, but the Freys did not wait for me to remove the logs.”

    I feign shame and kick at my heel to really sell it. “When his men removed too many logs at once, the rest all came loose at the same time.”

    “Lord Frey rules over an island now,” Ned scowls at me, but is shocked when Hoster only laughs. “The bridge is will need serious repairs.”

    “I told you I was dragging my feet the whole way for a reason,” And dragging my maul behind me created a foot deep trench. “By now it should all of have drained away from his castle and started turning his fields into marshland.”

    “You turned the Green Fork into a swamp!” Hoster isn’t laughing anymore.

    “Only part of it, after a mile or two it’ll all flow back into the riverbed.”

    Now he’s back to laughing. “Well that’s fine. Wonderful even… I think this calls for a feast!”




    “You’re sure Lord Baratheon is here?” Sir Grell leads us into the town cautiously, desperately hoping this is when I am proven wrong.

    “He should be in one of the brothels, but you’re the ones who need to find him.” I point to the Southeast where an enormous dust cloud is growing above the road into Stony Sept. “My job is giving you all the time you need.”

    “Get inside and lock your doors, the Mad Kings curs are here to kill you all!” I bellow into the streets and walk over to the Sept. Reaching for the rope, I let the bells carry my warning even farther.

    “That has to be nearly five hundred men, this is suicide!” Desmond is close to panicking, but a quick slap from Mors has him back to his senses.

    Chuckling even as I feel real fear for the first time in weeks, I wave them off. “They are kind of out numbered, should I ask them to come back with another five hundred?”

    Ignoring Mors’ guffaws, I push my wagon to the last of the buildings. Jorah follows me like planned and starts making his best calculations.

    “Looks like only infantry and they’re bunched up pretty tightly,” The charming Mormont Lord climbs into the wagons and begins pouring pitching onto one of my wheel poles.

    Stabbing into the other two barrels he whistles for me to grab one. I grab it and square my feet on each side of the stone paved road. It’s big enough to create a blob of slightly lighter brown, so I heave the barrel in a granny toss.

    It sails through the air and I can hear blobs of resin splashing onto the ground below. I don’t see the real chaos, but Jorah’s cheer is all the proof I need. Grabbing the next barrel I repeat the process, this time I hear the disgusted yells of the soldiers who got hit.

    Sliding the first pitch covered wheel off the pole, Jorah is quick to light it with his torch. He directs my throws and by the third… my flaming discs connect with the scattering forces.

    Flames snap to life and break up the marching soldiers, but the one commanding them isn’t willing to back down. Connington’s voice can be heard rallying his men even as my fourth throw crashes into the man standing feet away from him.

    “Are they still coming?” The screams are making it hard to make out Jon’s voice now, so I’m forced to rely on Jorah’s eyes.

    “A little more than half are trying to reform and charge us from the left.” He gags on the smell and I can only wish for my old nose right now. “The rest are either dead… or they wish they were right now.”

    “Light the last barrel and pour it on the hay.” I grab the handles of my custom built wagon and wince when the flames roar to life before my face. “Just stay behind me and make sure I crash into as many as possible.”

    “Not like I’m going first,” Laughing from the tense situation, Jorah just draws Longclaw and gives me the signal. “I’ll let the guy crazy enough to hold fire lead the way. You should take all the arrows this way.”

    I can smell the bodies of those burning nearby as I charge for the soldiers, who only now realize the danger behind the cart. Letting go of the cart causes it to begin bucking while it roles over and through the formation.

    The flaming hay is thrown into the air and comes raining down on anyone within twenty feet of it’s path. I can hear dozens of swords being drawn in anger, but the smoke has my eyes nearly worthless.

    “How many are left?” I double check with Jorah and draw my tree nearly two story weapon.

    “Only a hundred or so.”

    “You think you can handle Connington?”

    Jorah snarls in anticipation, but still manages to be witty. “I’d rather take my chances with him, I’ll leave you his friends.”

    As soon as he darts behind me I swing with my full force. My maul makes over a dozen bone shattering impacts in my first arc and I just keep doing what Maege showed me.

    Fluid as I can be with only a month of practice, I manage to keep a constant flow of deadly figure eights going. In less than a minute I’ve blown away most of the smoke, which only makes the devastation morbidly clear.

    Only seven men are still standing within my eyesight and only nine can be smelt running into the treeline. I gaze down at the terrified soldiers and roar, letting my spittle fly into the nearest ones face.

    This breaks them and the last five men abandon Jon Connington to his fate. He probably would have gone with them, if Longclaw wasn’t in his hand and about to enter Jorah’s back.

    “Four!” I don’t even think about trying to take Jon captive, not that it was ever high on my list of priorities. My maul connects with his shocked face only a second before the rest of his body crumples against the stone.

    His body flies through the air like a boneless chicken in a tall arc over the trees, coming down somewhere in the woods. Longclaw clatters onto the road, with one of Connington’s arms still grasping the hilt.​
     
  11. TriedgeThePK

    TriedgeThePK My arm is tired.

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    I'm reminded of this rather fun thing you can do in skyrim:
     
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  12. Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Back before the physics engine was patched a few times, I maxed my archery and got really good at using people as arrows. Shout and then Arrow if timed right let me shoot a dragon across the sky.
     
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  13. TriedgeThePK

    TriedgeThePK My arm is tired.

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    That sounds amazing! Wish I tried that, but no. I had to be a heavy armor assassin. FML
     
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  14. ATP

    ATP Experienced.

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    Interesting story,please continue.But why made children bad guys? they are dying anyway,and what remained of them could be used for your MC goals.
    More important - saving Lyanna is good,you could save Ellia,too_Or not.What is important - kill Tywin.Without him,Lannisters would be no problem.
    P.S What other giants think about him?
     
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  15. Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Best part was kiting a nearly dead dragon over a giant camp first. The dragon hits so hard it leaves like a half mile trench and kills anything it hits. Except mudcrabs weirdly, I think they have some kind of shock absorbance.

    Thank you and I will. I have rough plans for about 100-150K words.


    Basically the Giant woke up and killed Bloodraven before he knew it was more than a dream. Since the Children are working for/serving him, I asumed they now want me dead. They are the last people who know how I got here and If it's real I'm blaming them by assosiation.

    Giants and Children warred for thousands of years before men arrived in Westeros. So I'm also taking the canon strife and using it to sell my lie. If Maesters check anything, it's better if my lies have a bit of truth.

    You'll see and hopefully be pleased with my idea.

    It's been about 3-4 months since I "woke up". Giants only really know the Free Folk are being a lot friendlier for some reason.
    Giants really only have the intelligence of a 6-8 year old. so it's something they don't really understand right now. When I go back and meet them... I'm not really sure.
    ....

    I have no real dislike of any character/house or preference for anyone. I feel most people are shaped by experiences and I'm in a position to change them. For example, I don't blame Joffrey really. I blame the adults in his life. For cersei/robert/jaime, I blame what shaped them. For Tywin and Rhaegar, I blame Tytos and Aerys. For Aerys, I blame duskendale and I can't really hate someone genuinely crazy(I can hate his actions and agree he needed to die, but I pity him also). How different would any of these characters have been with some modern therapy? Even Ramsey I refuse to kill until he reaches a certain age/agency.

    I can't hate people for what they might have done before my arrival, because I've changed them as much as they're changing the SI.
     
  16. Threadmarks: Chapter 10: I Told You So
    Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Chapter 10: I Told You So
    283 AC

    “Do you believe me now?” I Grumble down at Jorah as he pulls Connington’s fingers off of Longclaw.

    He looks around the smoldering field and takes in the hundred or so survivors in desperate need of medical care. “Kind of hard to doubt all of this.” Pausing his no doubt witty remark, Jorah instead points to my shoulder with a concerned frown. “You might want to pat yourself out.”

    Realizing the smell of burning wool is coming from me, I belly flop into the dirt and roll. “Is it out yet?”

    The belly laughs coming from Stony Sept have me sit up in a panic, worried someone got behind us. The imposing figure of Robert Baratheon is nothing like his pathetic state in his middle ages. He looks every inch the warrior of legend he was hailed, making me see only way to make him like me.

    “Does my nose deceive me, or is that the blood of the Storm King?” My words have Robert grinning widely, while Howland and Mors escort him towards me. “It is good to finally meet some of my Southern blood, I have traveled far to pledge myself to your cause.”

    He’s lapping this up! I grin eagerly as my stroking of Robert’s ego works perfectly, his lack of confusion shows he received at least one of Ned’s ravens.

    “Ned told me to avoid this place but Conning-Cunt forced our hand.” He watches my fancy bow with an amused quirking of his eyebrow. “You have my thanks for the aid today and if Lord Reed’s words are true… You will have anything from me on my Lyanna’s safe return.”

    “You won’t have to worry about the Hand anymore,” A grinning Jorah holds up the floppy limb. “It’s all that remains of the Griffon after his attempt to fly away.”

    “The two of you faced down his entire force?”

    I slap a hand against my chest and bark out with as much good cheer as I can muster. “What else would you expect from your kin and his Northern champion?” Jorah is a good fighter now and he becomes a lot better over the years. If he’s going to throw his life away in some form of mindless devotion to a pretty girl, I should make sure he looks to one of mine.

    “Lord Mormont I assume?” Robert struts forward, his wound barely even slowing down his cocky gait. “Kneel before the Storm King.” He grins at those words and brings his hammer down on each of Jorah’s shoulders.

    When he finishes knighting an ecstatic Jorah, Robert turns to me next. “And now for you. What is it they called you, a Duke?”

    “A knighthood should be earned through a cause that makes him bleed for the Realms,” I lift my arms, showing off my lack of bloodstains for all of his vanguard to see. “This war is not over, I will have many more chances to earn this honor.”

    “That’s what I like to hear, now let’s double time it to Riverrun!” He hollers boisterously to his assembled men, all two hundred of them just as eager to be behind walls. “I can’t miss Ned’s wedding, that would just bring bad luck to this entire rebellion.”





    We meet the Vale forces on the road back to Riverrun, with a wary Jon Arryn bringing his steed beside Robert’s own. He seems grateful for my aid and prior warnings, but very aware of how much havoc I can cause.

    “You think I should marry a Frey?” He tries not to look offended by my words, but Robert is not so kind with his booming laugh.

    “They’re already looking for any chance to turn against Lord Tully and you just need a fertile bride.” My words make enough sense that he signals for me to continue. “Why not bind three thousand swords to your armies and ensure they can not sheath themselves in your backs?”

    My warning of the Frey’s arriving late is actually being taken seriously by those in power. Both Arryn and Robert see at once the danger of them turning against us instead.

    “But that still leaves Lady Lysa unwed, which was Lord Tully’s reason for offering her hand to me.”

    “Doesn’t my kin have two brothers, would Lord Stannis not bind the alliance just as tightly?” I smirk as the idea flowers in Robert’s head and he sees another way to bind his family even closer to Ned’s own.

    “I’ll have to speak with Hoster when we arrive, we can get Lady Lysa sent back with an escort immediately.” The future King grins widely, but I remember what’s going to happen to Storm’s End very soon.

    “Make sure you send a few months worth of food, the Storm and Riverlands are those most under threat of attack.”

    Jon reminds his once ward. “Lord Lannister has not yet declared for the Mad King, we’ll be forced to leave a garrison at Riverrun or fear losing it to ambush from behind.”

    “His son is held hostage, the very same way Dorne is being forced to serve.” If I can just nudge his anger a degree or two to the side, things may not be as bleak for this world as I had always imagined. It seems like people are smiling more than they ever did in the show, maybe I am doing something right.

    “Dragons are all the same and just need a good slaying!” Red is visible in Robert’s eyes and his rage make even me raise my eyebrows in concern for his health.

    “I agree...” My words stop his rant and I explain what I hope is a new line of thought. “But killing women and children brings only shame to ones with the strength of Giants.”

    His rage begins to surge back again, but at least Robert isn’t spitting his words yet. “If I let them scurry of and hide, they’ll whelp a new brood and be back in a generation!”

    “Good,” He can’t seem to comprehend what I mean, so I take advantage of his shocked silence to press on. “Wouldn’t it be horribly boring to have a reign without a single war? Imagine sitting on a cold metal chair for the rest of your life… never again to wield a weapon against a foe, or gain true glory on the field of battle.”

    “But if I let Rhaella and Elia flee with the runts...” He starts to understand.

    Jon Arryn smiles at me for the first time since we met on the road, glad to finally have Robert thinking long term about everything. “You get a war every fifteen years or so and a way to keep Westeros united against the Targaeryans.”

    “It will show which families are loyal to the Dragons, letting me purge the Kingdoms of those who would see Rhaegar win this rebellion.” The soon to be King is nodding eagerly now at the idea.

    I’m going to have to take a chance here, but I can’t really see what else Harrenhal was for. “Was that not the original plan Lord Arryn, before Rhaegar showed his own brand of madness?” I have no idea what really happened, but this is the version of events that will help me the most.

    “Aerys and his son have both Dorne and the Reach.” Both Lords scowl at the reminder. Not to mention his Crownland forces and those loyalists from your own lands.”

    “What have you seen?” Jon Arryn demands, unable to ignore my claims… no matter if he believes me or not.

    “Kings Landing engulfed in green fire, so hot not even the stones are left standing.” It might have been years later and by the hand of someone else, but they don’t need to know that. It’s always more believable to speak a half truth, so it’s really fortunate I did see these things play out in the show… however poorly.

    “A Lannister slays the Mad King while taking the city for the rebels, but only after the mighty Stag slays he wicked Dragon” I nearly giggle at the shock in both men’s eyes. “I have also seen the Ironborn raid from the North to the Westerlands as they claim a King of their own.” Won’t happen for a decade, but the preparations for them to choose a side should already be visible.

    Frowning at the idea of the Ironborn’s ability to strike nearly anywhere, Lord Arryn makes a realization. “We need Tywin and we need a way to safely take the city. Green flames can only mean the city is hoarding Wildfire for our arrival.”

    “Cut off the city by sea once his son is dead and the small folk will tear Aerys from his throne themselves.” Jorah seems to finally be over his earlier shock and chimes in with his own idea.

    “I might have a way we can solve a few of those things at once.” Casterly Rock is on the way to Dorne, I can afford to treat with Tywin for a week or two.

     
  17. Blackenedthorn

    Blackenedthorn Too many ideas, so little time

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    I mean it wouldn't be hard to get Tywin on their side, just convince Robert to release Jaime from his bonds as a Kingsguard in return for his alliance a marriage agreement between Roberts future child and a future child of either Jaime or Cersei. Now I'm just picturing Jorah marrying Cersei, Cersei gets to train to become a warrior under the tutelage of her good mother Maege and Jorah gets a wife who would not get him banished for slavery.
     
  18. ATP

    ATP Experienced.

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    Jorah with Cersei - i support that warship !.
    Freys - pity,that SI is not sneaky type,becouse old Walder need to die.To be honest,killing only him and changing nothing else would probably save Westeros.
    Tywin is able - but also too prideful.He should die,but how? SI could not play ninja to get him.
    Or...could giant become ninja ?
    Jokes aside - he need bow,and he would be kind of mobile ballista.Killing enemy commanders and standart bearers could win battle.

    P.S how big he is ? becouse he need wife,and bigger womans/Leng/ have 7 and half feet.If he is 10 feet or more,it would be no possible.Maybe Sothorys? but could they even have children ?
     
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  19. Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    I do have a few ideas for what to offer him.

    Well now... Cersei and Jorah I hadn't been considering. I was trying to make her prophecy come true, but in very different ways. That idea though... it's actually just a good idea and not really funny. Jorah is basically the Northern version Jaime.


    I had no idea how much I did until now.

    Well Black Walder would need to go also.

    Tywin is one of my favorite villains. I respect the hell out him. I really hope my idea pays off and get's him onboard.

    As soon as I get a way to see, that's going to be basically my first goal.


    He's 15'5"/4.69 Meters.
    He's going to be marrying, but it won't be for genetic children. Someone whos fine really just being my friend and having discreet bastards, while we make the world just pretend are mine/ be upfront my family will keep wards who prove themselves. I've probably already got some of Tormund's grandkids on the way.
     
  20. Threadmarks: Chapter 11: Drink and Be Merry
    Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Chapter 11: Drink and Be Merry
    283 AC

    “This is bloody disgusting...” Grunts Mors as he removes the excess with his knife and hands Howland the stomach and several feet of small intestine. “You really expect a man to put his mouth on this?”

    Howland takes it from the messy Umber and pours water inside, flushing out most of the mess. “Didn’t think Umbers would back down from a challenge, but I guess Jorah and I can show these Southerners what real courage is.”

    He ties a knot in the end of the dangling bit and holds open the stomach for Jorah to pour in the ale. Once it’s filled, it gets set aside and placed with the other already finished beer bladders in my palm.

    “Hurry up, the cooks won’t be distracted long!” I hiss down at them, as I see Grell and the cooks heading back to the tent. “Grab the ones you finished and lets go have some fun.”

    We find Robert amid the heaviest drinking, surprisingly with no maiden on his knee. I can only assume without my promise of Lyanna being returned alive Robert had already given up hope, even if he kept on a brave face for his forces.

    Mors grabs one of the filled stomachs and tosses it at the Baratheon Lord. “Hope you aren’t squeamish, we got us a Giant’s drinking game to try out.”

    “What am I supposed to do with this?” He looks to Ned on his right for an answer, but the Stark is far to interested in his new wife.

    “Bite it above the knot and cut that part off,” I grin as he does so and lift the filled stomach above his head. “And drink as much as you can.” Squeezing the makeshift beer bong between my fingers, the ale is forced into Robert’s waiting mouth.

    He gags at first, but soon manages to send the liquid right down his throat. He nearly drains the stomach and lets out a mighty belch. “Another!” His approval leads to the rest being handed out to eager feasters, with Jorah showing everyone how to refill one.

    It’s easy to see how overwhelmed Ned and his new bride are, they haven’t even had five minutes to themselves once the planning began. “Go sneak off for a bit and show Lord Stark your home, you two don’t need a chaperon anymore.”

    Catelyn’s eyes light up with that information and she takes a grateful Ned by the hand. “I’ll keep everyone distracted.” I walk away from them and lift up two full barrel of wines, some of the last Arbor White in the Riverlands.

    “I’ve heard the Umbers can really drink, I challenge you to prove it here and now!” Slamming one barrel in front of the Great Jon Umber, I poke a hole in the top of my own with a thumb. “All those with Giant blood showing are welcome to help you, because my barrel will still be dry first.”

    I can smell Ned and Cat slipping away towards the path by the river, heading down to the shallow pool I had dug for the children to swim in safely. In total eleven men face my challenge, nine of them being Umbers.

    “I’ll knight every damn one of you when we drink my ‘uncle’ here under the table!” Roars Robert as he joins the bravest men at the feast… or maybe the dumbest. He’s taken to simply calling me uncle, because in his own words ‘It’s hurting my head trying to remember all these greats’.

    “He’s our kin too, stop trying to hog him!” Whoresbane Umber barks back in good humor. “He’s more than big enough for all of us to claim a drop of his blood.”

    Grinning back, Robert seems pleased with the cocky answer. “You really are distant kin, too bad you have no daughters the same age as Renly.”

    “You can’t have Osha, she hasn’t told me who she wants me to steal for her yet.” Hopefully that keeps anyone with sons from pestering me.

    “You have kids?” Filling up his sixth cup, Robert has a pleased grin. “My girl is three, she already laughs like thunder.”

    “My wife was taken from me before we could have children of our own, so I began gathering the children of the stolen Northern Lords.”

    Howland is quick witted and notices what that really means before anyone else present. “You raise these wards as your own children, fully intent on treating each one as true born.” His words are not a question, only an astute observation that has the listeners gasping in shock.

    “I may not be the last Giant, but the Children of the Forest have ensured our culture ends with me.” I love Wun Wun, but he just doesn’t have the mental capacity for remembering all of my lies. “When making our bodies small did not break us, they next moved to making my peoples minds small.”

    Sniffling more than normal to really sell my grief, I explain away the difference between me and the Giants I hope to bring South soon. “My people’s minds are forever stuck as children, which is why I have come South alone to have a safe home made ready.”

    “What kind of space do you need for that?” Robert keeps me talking.

    “I’ve been told the islands called the Stepstones are as yet unclaimed, I would bring the remnants of the land bridge back into the Seven Realms.”

    Downing his current drink and he considers the idea. “You’ll need a lot of ships to transport your people, which our alliance has a severe lack of.” He may not have a mind for economics, but he knows how to plan an invasion.

    “What if I can take Dragonstone and use that as my launching point?” I have a few ideas on how to achieve this, especially considering how ready the Royal Fleet was to change sides.

    “If you can take the island by yourself, I’ll name you Lord.” He chuckles at the idea, even as I consider what many would believe near impossible. “That should be all the fleet you need to bring your people South and deal with those pirates. Lord Paramount of the Stepstones has a nice ring to it.”

    “I’ll get to work on that only once I have Lyanna safe.” All the pieces in my head are starting to connect in ways I hadn’t expected possible, but am more than willing to take advantage of as they present themselves.

    “Which means I need to leave in the morning,” I know he alliance sits around in the Riverlands for nearly half a year, but I have no idea how long talking with Tywin will take. “I hope my words can reach Lord Lannister, it’s only a shame we can no longer offer Lord Arryn’s hand.”

    His own wedding was held alongside Ned’s, to one of the many fertile Frey women offered to secure the Frey forces. I think her name is Walda, but that doesn’t make it any easier on me considering how many of her kin have the same name.

    “You’ll need to wait a few days at least,” Mors interrupts with a smirk. “It’s almost an embarrassment how bad your ‘armor’ looks.” I may be wearing a toga made from some of Lord Tully’s curtains, but my first attempt at armor did not survive it’s first battle.

    The second attempt will keep the iron wood, but the layers of wool will be bound tightly this time. Leather is even being used on the outer one, hopefully this will avoid having it fall apart in a single battle.

    I won’t be able to wheel around a massive wagon, crossing the Reach will require at least an attempt at stealth. Realizing my mouth is dry, I glance over at my very drunk competitors and growl. My barrel is still half full, but Robert is holding an empty one above his head.

    He does as promised and knights his eleven companions, even the unconscious Umber. I take the loss with good humor, it’s my fault for always talking too much anyway.

    “When is Lady Lysa going to Storm’s End?” I realize I haven’t seen her since the beginning of the feast.

    “My brother’s bride will be leaving in a few days with her escort, hopefully she can finally teach him how to smile.” He giggles at his own words and claps in excitement. “I have a splendid idea!”

    His tone is gleeful, but I’m still worried for some reason. “What is it?”

    “How many charging Knights do you think you can take?”

    “In a fight?”

    Laughing at my concerned face, Robert explains exactly what he means. “No, no. We get you on one side of that pond you dug for the brats and some knights on the other side. Give you a rope and tie the other end to each of the riders.”

    I consider it and find I’m actually curious myself. “I’m not sure, lets start with five.”

    “Ten gold for anyone brave enough to try!” He gives me no chance to reconsider and eagerly calls out for knights to challenge me. “Another twenty for the ones who succeed!” That works and it looks like a lot of armor will be in need of oiling tonight.​
     
  21. Threadmarks: Chapter 12: Grumkins and Snarks
    Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Chapter 12: Grumkins and Snarks
    283 AC

    The gates of Casterly Rock clank open slowly, while one of the Lannister brothers observes my party with what smells like thirty armed men behind him. The interested gleam in his eyes and lack of any facial hair mark him as Gerion, but I have been wrong before.

    Long flowing blonde hair and a perfectly defined jawline make him handsome. But the emerald green eyes and flawless skin make him one of the prettiest people I have seen since waking up in that cramped cavern.

    “The rumors are true, the rebels really do have a Giant fighting for them.” His voice is absent of Tywin’s scorn and Kevan’s deference, so my initial assumption is proving itself correct. “I wonder what reason a party from all four Kingdoms could be interested in?”

    “Well for one thing,” I speak first, with none of the exuberance my party of six are accustomed to. “It’s five Kingdoms, I just haven’t had time to gather my people.” My calm and respectful delivery has Mors gaping like a fish, but thankfully Howland puts an end to that for me. “After we’ve finished throwing down the Targaeryans, I have already been given leave to claim the Stepstones.”

    Gerion blinks at the how easy I share my information, but I can see him eager for the adventure. “Really now? That sounds like quite the undertaking for what… a few thousand at most?”

    Let’s really establish my power base the meeting with the real power of the Rock, It should make my bargaining position one of at least near equal strength. “Over a hundred thousand Free Folk, but nearly a third have abandoned the ancient oaths and wage war against the Wall as those called Wildlings.”

    “But if you mean my own people…” I grow somber for this part of my speech. “We have fallen to less than a thousand and the Children have ensured we shall be some of the last.”

    “Giants and Children of the Forest,” The condescending voice of who can only be Cersei intrudes on the conversation, her six guards desperately trying to call her back inside the safety of the castle. “What’s next, shall we prepare a room for the Grumkins and Snarks?”

    Oh that’s a good idea! “Grumkins are something not seen since the Children flooded the Neck, but Snarks are very much present.” I pat a startled Mors on the back and nearly knock him over. “Snarks are simply those men whose Giant blood makes itself known.”

    I take a deep whiff of the air for show, but am almost distracted by the fruity scent of her perfume. If I thought Gerion was a pretty man, his niece makes him look like a caricature. I look to one of the men standing in formation behind Gerion and recognize the large teen with a concealed face.

    “You have one of my kin sworn to your service already, or has the South simply forgotten what those names mean?” I smirk at Cersei’s shock expression that swiftly reforms into poised scorn.

    “And what does that make a Grumkin?”

    “They are similar, but instead show the blood of the Children in their veins.” I hope this has some kind of positive effect. “The three wishes granted by them led to nearly every line containing a Grumkin being slain.”

    Dropping her scorn, Cersei tries a friendlier tone to get more answers about these ‘wishes’ I have claimed exist. “And how would one recognize these mut-” She corrects herself on remembering I am not a human myself. “Crossbreeds.”

    “If I remember correctly, the Andal word for them is Dwourf.” Making it sound more like I’m pronouncing the word flour, I scrunch my face up feigning deep thought. “They have keen minds and bring great wealth to any family in which one is born.”

    “My people may have helped Brandon build the Wall and places like Winterfell.” Trying not to laugh at Cersei’s pursed lips, I continue my torrent of bullshit. “But the Grumkins who sided with the families in which they are born… they are the ones who helped him design these wonders.”

    “What did you mean about three wishes?” Gerion continues my rather pleasant interrogation.

    I shrug as if it’s only an afterthought. “The three things the parents wish for most when conceiving the Grumkin, will come to family during the child’s life… but each one comes at the cost of a loved ones life.”

    “Father wanted me to inform you he is ready to meet with the ‘savages’,” Hiding her own whirling thoughts with a calculating smirk, Cersei motions for me alone to follow her guards. “But it would seem a waste of time to speak for mere followers to join us.”

    Gerion snorts at the dismissive words, but does signal for me to leave my party behind in the courtyard. Mors catches my pinkie and grunts out a warning before I go.

    “If he tries anything inside,” He tries to act like this is just part of his duty, but I catch a hint of real worry in his scent. “Just yell and we’ll make sure the gate stays open.”

    “If I yell,” I glance at the Lannister men and realize they have nearly doubled while talking with Cersei. “Get your asses on the road and I’ll make my own way out.”





    “You are to become my newest peer?” Tywin has a lot less grey hair than I’m used to seeing, but his perfectly delivered condescension worms through even my thick hide.

    His eyes trail over my new armor, the dark brown leather is nearly a burgundy and rests over my by far more tightly bound cotton underneath. It gets him to at least stop frowning as he finds my appearance is not as disgraceful as he had been informed.

    “Well that depends on a few things.” Not backing down since that will only show me as someone worth no respect in this Lord’s eyes, I stand straighter and look Tywin straight in the eye. “Aerys has stockpiles of Wildfire in King’s Landing, so taking the city will be more difficult than a simple siege.”

    His eyes widen in shock, but Tywin manages to remain composed in the face of the disturbing news. Cersei however lets out a horrified gasp, certainly fearing for her twin’s life.

    “So you have come to directly petition for my aid?” Ignoring his daughter’s growing distress, Tywin refuses to allow my words to impact his decision. “The other Lords didn’t see fit to speak with me themselves?”

    “We thought you would appreciate the only one with anything still left to offer you a way into our alliance.” Alright, time to stick my head right under the guillotine. Hope Ned was right and it will take a few tries first though.

    He frowns again and crosses his arms. “What could you possibly have to offer me?”

    “I hear you’ve been looking for one of those fancy swords,” Tywin gets the barest hint of desire in his eyes. “I left Toothpick with my son for safe keeping, but I think you Southerners used to call it Darksister.”

    “You expect us to believe you have that missing legend?” Gerion blurts out, his voice highly amused by the claim.

    “Bloodraven was the one I got it from, I simply asked the Starks what his blade was called before I came into it’s possession.”

    Glaring his brother into silence, Tywin quickly resumes control of the discussion. “And I assume the price will be my forces joining the rebels?”

    “I have leave to bring my people South once the rebellion is won, but I will need a bride to guide me in the South.” Ignoring the shock in Tywin’s eyes, I explain my needs plainly. “I have already taken to rescuing the Noble children stolen by the savage Wildlings, but all thirteen lack the blood required in the South to be my heir.”

    “I may not be able to lay with my bride, but as long as she can remain discreet...” I let the words hang in the air, so everyone present can take them in. “I care not who she sires my heirs with.” Cersei is going to be a problem for whoever she ends up with, so why not give her exactly what she desires?

    She’s irrational and bitter by the start of the first book, but that was only after thirty years being denied her heart’s desire. I truly believe she went to her wedding bed intent on giving her marriage a real attempt and only Robert’s drunken words turned her so quickly back to her twin’s comfort.

    Joffrey is a spoiled monster in desperate need of a strong guiding hand, which I feel I can be the one to provide. Myrcella and Tommen are wonderful children, so I’ll take my chances. Even if I have to get rid of Joffrey for the safety of all my children one day.

    “My Amazons will need a Duchess with a spine of steel to lead them in these strange lands,” Leaving the words hanging in the air thick with unspoken meaning, I sweeten the offer. “I have already been given permission to promise you Sir Jaime’s freedom and return to Casterly Rock… as long as we can extract him safely from the capital.”

    Before anyone can speak, I reach for my waist and remove a suitcase size pouch. “I have two letters inside, send both and I have every belief in your son’s survival.”

    “You have my attention,” Admits Tywin simply, as not even his brother Gerion makes a wisecrack.

    “Good, because right now only the Reach is fighting for the Dragons without a hostage having been taken.” He nods at the obvious statement. “So the Storm King has agreed with me, they will lose land for making such a dishonorable decision.” Being the ones who wounded him certainly aided him in this choice.

    “Has it been decided which portions the Tyrells will lose and to whom the land will go?” Now even I can clearly see the eagerness in Tywin’s eyes.

    “From the fork of the Mander to the Westerlands and from the Cocklement river to the Stormlands.” Detailing how the Reach will be losing up to a third of it’s land, Tywin begins licking his lips hungrily. “The Crownlands are also to be divvied up among the Kingdoms who once claimed the land. I know the Vale is being give Crack Claw Point, while the Riverlands gain the lands down to Rosby.”

    “So many changes already planned?”

    I nod grimly and explain why it was so easy for the four Lord’s Paramount to agree. “The likely scenario is that we will be unable to save King’s Landing, so plans are already in motion to create a new capital.”

    “And you are to return with my answer as soon as possible?” I can smell it on him already, Tywin’s greed for more power has a very lemony scent.

    “Your raven and commitment of forces will suffice,” Shaking my head no, I point at Gerion with my thumb. “But I will have need of your brother and a ship.” I hum as I pretend to consider something. “Do you still have some Dragon colors? it really would make sailing to Dorne far easier.”








    Notes: I just really thought the idea of marrying Cersei funny. It’s an open secret she has bastards, gets most of the things she wanted growing up, and I’ll never be touching her sexually. The whole he has 16 and you shall have three kids thing from Maggy the Frog, was the impetus for this choice.​
     
  22. ATP

    ATP Experienced.

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    That should work.SI could take giant waifu,but what if child would be not smart? and even if children was smart,they would still need to marry other dump giants.Which would end in his descendents as smart as average giant.Well,he is lucky that he do not get children body.He could marry human woman,but not fight.

    P.S since it is porn site,i bet that somebody arleady created story where Cersei actually fucked giant.Or would create in future.Rule 37 of anime,if i remember correctly.
     
  23. Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    My reasoning as well. I would just feel horrible taking a giant as a wife. The intelligence difference would ensure we are never even close to equals.

    My first celebrity crush was Cordelia from Buffy, so I really like confident and intelligent women. I also like being called on my stupidity as bluntly as possible (but with no swears. Angry swearing really annoys me).

    Probably, it seems like everything is or will be.
     
  24. Threadmarks: Chapter 13: Don’t Rock the Boat
    Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Chapter 13: Don’t Rock the Boat
    283 AC

    As the final preparations for the voyage are underway at the Lannisport docks, Tywin and his daughter watch with casual indifference. The pair have come to see Gerion off and complete the first stage of our transaction.

    Doing an admirable job of hiding his nerves, Sandor Clegane awaits his new appointment with resignation. The boy of three and ten could pass as a man fully grown, if he keeps his helm on that is.

    “This is the brave lad who volunteered to be my squire?” Smiling down at a resolute Sandor, I can see his jaw tense when my shadow falls over him.

    “The others all turned it down when they heard you couldn’t knight them yourself.” Explains Tywin with a curl of his lip. “Clegane is still to timid to fight among his brother’s men, maybe you shall finally get the dog to bite instead of simply growl.”

    “You know how much more work it’s going to be looking after my armor, don’t you lad?”

    His back straightens when he thinks I doubt his abilities and he rushes to defend his new position. “Big Lord needs a big squire.”

    “His care and training is your responsibility now,” Tywin scowls at the sailors leering a few moments too long in his daughter’s direction and smirks when they scamper away in fear. “We will resume discussion of the betrothal upon your successful return from the North… with my blade.”

    “We’ve been over this already.” I remind hit with a smirk of my own. “The land you stand to gain from the Reach is your prize for joining the rebellion,”

    “Toothpick is worth an army or castle all it’s own.” He glowers back at my ability to understand basic economics. “And considering the other four families are now all aligned by marriage, you only have young Renly or Edmure as alternatives”

    I know my power is built only on promises right now, but chances to marry into this alliance are rapidly closing. If I refrain from rushing, my position will only grow in strength. “Unless of course you are willing to reconsider the Martells.”

    The shudders shared by the highbrow Lannisters nearly makes me snort in amusement. When I manage to hold it in with a sniffle, I catch the scent of the missing Tyrion. He clambers down from his horse with the grace that suggests he still secretly practices his tumbling and dashes towards us.

    “Wait!” His eager grin has me bend down carefully. Even though I have only spoken with him a few times, he seemed quite eager to find a solution for my own impairment. “I have something for you.” He has the ends of two telescopes bound to a golden frame, making a pair of crude glasses he holds up before me.

    My words upon our arrival seem to have had some effect and now Tyrion is being given lessons on the castle’s architecture. His first assignment is still going to be the refitting of the sewers, but it is only a first step on the bright boy’s path.

    “These should help you see better,” The ten year old Lannister almost giggles at his own earlier fear of me. “So you don’t step on the wrong person.”

    As I slide the gift onto my face, I find the frames are in fact almost perfectly sized for my head. When I blink, I can see clearer than I have been able to all year. It’s not perfect by any means and I have a smudge one the left lens, but I can see more than colored shapes beyond a few hundred feet.

    “How long did this take you?” I can only hope he obtained the telescopes from sailors here down at the docks and not stolen them from his Maester. “Because I can finally see the splendor Lannisport has to offer.”

    “A few days to make sure I had them an even distance apart.” He preens from the praise, even as Cersei grimaces at my interaction with her brother. “But it was worth it.”

    Cersei surprisingly agrees with her brother. “It did keep you holed up with the Maester for several days, maybe you should find a new project to continue the trend.”

    “A common Maester is not the life for one of my line,” Stopping the bickering before it can even really begin, Tywin simply gives his children an intense look which cows them both. “But to be remembered ten thousand years from now… that is a life in which you can at least bring glory to our family.”

    “How long will we have before even a Targaeryan flag will be of no use for a Lannister ship?” The last of the preparations done, Gerion has now joined the farewells himself.

    “It will be nearly twenty days before all my banners have assembled and are ready to march on the Reach.” His scouts have reported the Tyrell host is already marching on Storm’s End.

    Left with less than half of the available forces remaining in place, the Reach is ripe for the Lannister’s to pounce. “By the moon’s turn we shall have launched our first attack and you will be forced to rely on speed over stealth.”

    “Which is why I’m taking the strait and not going the long way around the Arbor,” Agrees the far more relaxed Gerion, who suddenly snorts in bemusement. “Don’t tell me you’re actually worried about me!”

    “Considering recent information,” Admits the older Tywin with a wince. “The closer we come to obtaining Darksister, the more I remember the few good memories from our childhood.” Giving his brother a slight upward tilt to the corner of his lips, Tywin reveals he does in fact care about Gerion. “I would prefer if you return unharmed.”





    Laying in the middle of the Lion’s Man right behind the mast, I do my best not to tilt the boat with my weight. Crates and barrels have been stacked around me while the sun is out, with a spare sail lain over most of my body.

    “I spy with my not so little eye,” Smiling at the clouds blowing past in the wind, I’m actually able to see a flock of seagulls. “Something that is... white!”

    When Sandor rolls his eyes at my antics, It seems I've finally gotten the boy over his fear of me. About time, only took four days of acting like a fool.

    “Birds again…” He grunts out finally, when it’s clear I won’t let the question go. “It’s been birds every damn time you’ve asked me!”

    Once his tirade is finished and he realizes exactly what he said to me, he rapidly begins to go pale. Letting out an amused chuckle has him confused, but I’m just happy we’re through the awkward ‘getting to know you’ stage.

    “Finally, I was wondering if had a mind of your own, or if you just got told to spy on me.” I snort at his worried expression. “Don’t worry about it, I’d rather you tell Lord Lannister exactly what I accomplish.”

    It’s a lot easier to impress a child than a full grown man, even if the boy thinks he is one. Sandor’s report will do more to sway Tywin than pretty much anyone else being assigned to me.

    “Now how about you tell me why you don’t want to be a knight, but you’re still going through every step to earn your spurs?”

    He freezes in place and starts to exhale heavily, flashes of his brother filling his mind. I don’t get a verbal answer, just the furious and tear filled eyes of the Pup.

    “You’re getting ready to climb a mountain… aren’t you?” I hold back my smirk when he jerks backwards in panic. “I’ve had dreams about the things he will do and have heard the tale of your brother from Gerion.”

    Lowering his eyes in to firm belief that I will take Gregor’s side, Sandor misses my own sad eyes. “Of course you have, the only thing that matters is how well a knight serves his Lord.” Bitter at the world, he hisses the last part under his breath. “His crimes off the battlefield are worth no mention.”

    “Not to me.” In disbelief Sandor locks firm eyes with me, daring me to say it again. So I do. “He thinks to call himself the Mountain among men, but in my lands… Gregor Clegane is not even a foothill.”

    “You’ll help me?”

    “Can’t be letting him shame the Snarks now, can we?” Smirking down at an ecstatic Sandor, I do have to bring his hopes down to a more manageable level. “We will need to either make it look like an accident, or cause him to loose control in a public setting.”

    Shaking his head at me, my squire shows the iron in his spine. “I don’t want him pushed down a flight of stairs, he needs to know it was by my hand.”

    “Do you want justice, vengeance, or vindication?” I ask with no judgment, simply wait for Sandor’s response.

    He frowns at me and growls. “What’s the difference?”

    “Justice means you let your Lord or the King handle the punishment.” That doesn’t make him happy and I have to whistle for his rant to be silenced. “Vengeance means you want him to suffer, not caring who knows the reason.”

    Sandor nods slowly, following along with my explanation in silence. “And vindication, that means you just want to be right. So do you want the world to know his crimes, do you want him to suffer, or is it most important this is done by your hand?”
     
  25. Threadmarks: Chapter 14: Rose Did Have Room
    Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Chapter 14: Rose Did Have Room
    283 AC

    Once the stars replace the sun and leave my size concealed by the night, I’m able to carefully stretch my legs. It takes a few laps around the cramped galley for me to stop stumbling with every large wave, but eventually I stop making Sandor think the boat will flip.

    “I might tilt the boat, but we made sure to balance the weight down below just for me.” My voice is calm, but he still doesn’t stop scowling until I take a seat near the back of the boat.

    Gazing at the shoreline as we sail by in silence that steadily grows less uncomfortable, I really take in how beautiful this world is. The moonlight is bright enough to show me an outline of a sprawling orchard that stretches as far as my eyes can see.

    Of course even with my new glasses, it may only be a few kilometers wide. None of the constellations are ones I recognize, but I pass the time making my own. I’m particularly fond of the triangle one, but the seven in a bendy line look like a snake.

    “Those ships are coming pretty close...” Sandor smacks my hand in growing panic, drawing me back from my stargazing. “You need to get covered up!”

    “Too late for that, all three are moving to cut off escape.” One of the officers pants out a correction as he finds us. “We’re going to have to hope we can break past the lead ship, or we’ll be fighting three to one odds when we get boarded.”

    My mind whirls as fast as it can and even I am well aware that hope is futile. “Where’s the anchor?”

    He’s confused by the demand but leads my to the coiled chain. Grabbing most in one hand, I pull the last part taut and begin twisting. It’s thick metal, but corroded enough by the salt that I’m able to snap it with a quick twist of my wrists.

    “Tell Gerion to bring us right up beside the ship blocking our way,” Growling out my command, I march to the prow and start to whirl the anchor.

    We pass by with less than thirty feet between the ships, so I take careful aim and fling the anchor like a rocket. The other end is wrapped tightly around my forearm, causing the anchor to hook punch through the other ships sail. It loops around the mast and lodges firmly in the hardwood, which I determine with an experimental tug.

    “Hang on to something!” Bellowing out a warning, I heave with all my strength.

    It’s not a gradual creaking I hear as I pull, but a sudden thunderous crash as I snap the mast right in half. Crashing down onto the deck of the Reach ship, I watch as one side of the crossbeam pierces the deck of the ship.

    “Go!” Pulling up the on the piece of the mast causes the ship to lean, but I haul in the bear sized chunk of wood like a prize trout. The other two ships slow down in fear of the same being done to them and follow at what should be a safe distance.





    “They aren’t going to break off, they know we’re flying a false flag now.” Gerion scowls at the two ships still following in the afternoon light.

    The shores of the Reach are beginning to fade into the red cliffs of Dorne, but we can no longer allow pursuit. “The fleet is far enough away, drop sails and we’ll deal with them now.”

    The crew grumbles but does lower the black and red canvas, instantly cutting our speed to less than a crawl. Gerion taps at the hilt of his blade, anticipation seeping across his face.

    “Now comes the part I hate most,” His words are spit out casually, but the tension is only hidden extremely well. “Waiting for the first charge to connect.”

    “No,” My correction has him frowning up at my smirk. “Now it’s time to watch, my spy needs something to report back on.”

    The Reach ships didn’t see what we did to the one last night, but they know we have the capability to wreck a ship in less than a minute. With this knowledge they approach carefully… and from the rear.

    I wait concealed beneath the sail, only moving once the first ship is close enough for them to throw grapples. Bellowing as loud as I can, the shocked attackers stumble back and give me all the opening I need.

    Charging forward on all fours for speed, I heave myself onto the Reach ship. The Lannister ship was prepared for my weight, but the new one I find myself on was definitely not.

    As soon as I slam onto the deck and roll across to the far side, the entire ship begins to list. The terrified Reach men are sent tumbling down into the ocean, but I manage to grab the keel.

    Before slipping into the water myself, I scramble onto the hull of the sinking boat and roar in triumph. The other ship is already throwing lines into the water, but this just brings them close enough to join the swimming lessons now on offer.

    My maul is pulled loose and I swing downwards at the remaining enemy ship. Arrows begin slamming into me, but I can barely even feel the pressure of the impacts in my new armor. Yanking my weapon free from the splintering wood, I’m forced to bring it back down for a second attempt.

    This strike chops through the hull and when I pull it away, the sea floods into the ship as a gushing torrent. Observing the devastation around me, I actually feel something crash into my back.

    “Grab on!” Sandor’s worried… about me. I guess I really am getting through to him. The anchor is still stuck into the piece of mast, but right now I’m glad Mors didn’t hack it loose.

    While I’m pulled away behind the only ship still afloat, I do my best to ignore the screams of the drowning.


    ...


    I roll to one side and try to submerge my tower door I call a shield, but no matter how hard I try it remains afloat. I knew it! Rose realized what a life with Jack would really be like and was not going to put up with those antics for life.

    Once we got out of sight of the twin shipwrecks and both crews, my shield was dropped overboard so I had a more comfortable ride to dock. We may be going half our previous speed, but it’s been quite relaxing.

    I was already getting hot and incredibly sweaty, if I wasn’t in the water I’d have already passed out from the intensity of the sun. Guess I won’t be wearing my armor to the Tower of Joy after all… or many clothes at all.

    “We’re approaching port, get ready to explain why we’re here in Dorne.” Gerion bellows down at me.

    “Howland and you will accompany me to meet with Lord Dayne, the others should stay on the ship for now.” My words have him nod briefly, before his head vanishes to give out commands for docking.

    Looking down, I realize the water is barely chin deep and stupidly stand. The sudden loss of slightly less than two and a half tonnes, causes the ship to surge forward for a few dozen feet. Thankfully however, they slow before crashing into the docked ships.

    By the time I find a ramp onto the beach, Gerion and Howland are waiting with a very shocked Lord Dayne. He looks to be over fifty, but only just. He has long black hair tied back in a loose ponytail, with grey only just beginning to pepper his temples.

    His piercing indigo eyes cut through me and I feel like he could see right through any lie I speak. But that’s ridiculous… right? Realizing it doesn’t matter either way since the letters have already been sent, I know my bowing will definitely not work her and kneel out of view of any Freefolk.

    “I would appreciate if you didn’t tell the Northerners I did that Lord Dayne, or they’ll never let me live it down.”

    His stony gaze becomes at least slightly amused by the remark and only now do I realize who’s standing behind him with curiosity in her purple eyes. Ashara Dayne... with a very much not stillborn babe.

    With a small tuft of black hair on the child’s head, I find myself very confused. The sniff of the air I take confirms the gender as male, which has my mind whirl with how wrong I may soon be proven to be.

    “Is he Brandon or Ned’s?” If all the theories I ascribed to are wrong in at least this version of events, how screwed am I? My blunt remark has Ashara glare, but her father simply sighs in resignation.

    “We may as well have this conversation back in the castle.” Lord Dayne stops his daughter’s indignant response with a hand on her arm, before leading us up the hill the Starfall. “I assume someone told Lord Stark and you are here for the child… war is a volatile time and even bastards have value.”

    If he really does have some kind of magic eyes, I need to be delicate with my phrasing here. “I am indeed here for a child with Stark blood, but first we will need the location of the Tower of Joy.”

    “Whatever for?” He blinks in confusion at what seems like a change to a completely unrelated topic. Beside him Ashara’s eyes go wide in realization and she blurts it out for me.

    “Arthur!”

    “Is holding the kidnapped Lyanna Stark prisoner,” I confirm her fears, but her father is not so quick to believe my slander and begins reaching for his blade. “Under Prince Rhaegar’s order.”

    “You better have proof of these claims, for my son is no brigand.” He pulls his sword halfway from it’s sheath and growls at me angrily.

    “Provide me a small enough escort to move both with speed and stealth.” My easy acceptance has Lord Dayne back to looking confused, but his sword is nearly all the way back in the sheath. “And you’ll either have proof, or two of the Kingsguard ready to aid your men in slaying this Northern beast.”

    He considers this and nods slowly, but the next words I utter will not be as easy for him to hear. “I will need the Stark babe though, I did come to Dorne for a reason after all.” Only me showing off the seal of all five Lord’s Paramount in the rebellion, saves me from facing Lord Dayne in the middle of the street.​
     
  26. ATP

    ATP Experienced.

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    I read about pygmy woman and Bantu men marriages,where waif survived childbirth.
    We knew about magic is bullshit,and that Leng is/in/famous for its magic.
    So,since Leng woman are 7 and half feet tall,and knew magic,your SI should be capable of having Leng waifu and smart children.
    Problem is - waifu would serve their empress,which is influenced by some aliens in hidden city.

    Maybe woman who run from that? or very big mermaid? both would be plausible.Sothorys woman probably not - they are savages,and probably dump,too.
     
  27. Jarski

    Jarski Know what you're doing yet?

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    Your update speed is insane!

    Well, giants are clearly OP in naval combat.
     
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  28. Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    I never considered Leng, but yeah that might have worked.


    Thanks. I want to know how things turn out as much as everyone, and the only way I can do that is by writing it.

    Against un prepared foes definitely. The next time the Reach should have figured out to stay back and hit us with flaming arrows.
     
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  29. CmirDarthanna

    CmirDarthanna Connoisseur.

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    If their hearing and lung capacity is good enough they might as well be two legged dolphins.
     
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  30. Threadmarks: Chapter 15: Tears of Joy
    Flightless Man

    Flightless Man Versed in the lewd.

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    Chapter 15: Tears of Joy
    283 AC

    While Lord Dayne’s servants stitch a fresh white sail into a toga, I peel off my sweat drenched armor and drop it onto the sand. Mors and Sandor wait on the rocks nearby, with a pair of freshly sharpened shears ready to chop through my forest of body hair.

    A trio of horrified stable boys are directed by my Umber ally to begin. They lather up my already damp hair and make a show of gagging on my musky odor.

    “Get started on his back Sandor.” Mors smirks at the idea he was going to do more than supervise. “Rest of you get to work on the Duke’s legs, you need to finish before he collapses on us.”

    “I’ll try not to fall on any of you.”

    Mors takes great amusement at the boys who are doing an admirable job of keeping their disgust to themselves. I however just try not to wince each time they are less than careful with the shears.

    “Raven’s landing at the castle,” Scowls Crowfood as calculates the rough direction it came from. “It followed the coastline from the East, which really narrows who could have sent it.”

    “The Martells are calling their banners.” My words have everyone freeze, exchanging awkward glances with each other. “So we better hope I’m right about everything.” As long as Lyanna’s at the Tower of Joy, I can still salvage something out of this mess.


    ...


    We leave Starfall behind with an escort of thirty knights, Lord Dayne leading us through the hidden passes to clear his son’s name. Ashara and her nursemaid insisted on keeping the babe I am trying very hard not to call Jon and they bring up the read.

    The litter is designed for travel through the mountains, so hopefully they won’t slow us down too much. Because based on my own rough calculations, the Siege of Storm’s End should have begun by now, the Battle of the Trident should be soon, and Lyanna’s pregnancy only about halfway to term.

    “Once we round this corner, we’ll be visible from the top of the tower.” The party is called to a halt by the grim faced Lord and now I’m forced to place my faith in the Daynes. “Wait here like we agreed, I want the chance to hear things from Arthur myself.”

    He leaves a handful of men behind and marches up the winding path towards the plateau. Crouched against the base of the cliffs, we remain silent for the signal.

    It’s a tense twenty minutes but when a sneeze echoes through the rocky pass, we charge into action. The five knights left behind start to race away from us, while my party feigns pursuit up the trail.

    As the Dayne knights crest the hill and rejoin the larger force, two figures are thankfully present. Arthur Dayne is directing his sister’s litter to the Tower, while Oswald Whent tries to charge of the defense.

    “You have Lyanna Stark.” I try not to pant and keep some level of intimidation, but Whent is completely undeterred. “I’m bringing her home.”

    I can see the truth has left Lord Dayne nearly in a stupor, but his men are at least aware of the plan. They form a ring of shields around me and the two white cloaks, while Howland rushes after the litter unmolested.

    “What are you doing?” Arthur hisses in rage when Howland slips inside the tower. “You betray the one true King!”

    “You betray your honor!” His father roars back with just as much anger. “You betray our family!”

    Without my armor Dawn gives even me pause, so I take advantage of Arthur’s distraction. He doesn’t notice my first step, but Whent warns him of my approach by the second.

    The look of shock on Arthur’s face when my foot connects is priceless. His eyes bulge out and he arcs through the air, vanishing from sight when he falls below the cliff edge. The scream as he plummets into the pass is gut wrenching, but I don’t have time to think about him anymore.

    Whent roars at me and hacks into my heel with all his might. His blade is nothing special, but the sharpened steel cuts through my skin easily. The spray of blood coats the dirt with slick crimson blood and my roar nearly deafens everyone.

    “That hurt!” I clap like he’s a fly and crush the white cloak between my palms, his armor and bones crunching between them. A sharp pain draws my gaze to the sword emerging from the back of my right hand and I start waving it around wildly.”

    “No I was wrong, that hurts!”

    “Get that sword out of your Lord’s hand, the rest of you…” Lord Dayne seems to have recovered enough from his shock to take charge again. “Find my son!” Sandor rushes to grab the hilt embedded in my palm, while the Dornish knights charge right back down the trail.

    Howland is the first one out of the tower, a trembling Lyanna clinging desperately to the crook of his arm. The swell of her belly has me stumble back to my feet in ecstatic joy and dash towards her suddenly terrified face.

    “You’re here!” I nearly start sobbing when I lift the shocked Lyanna into my arms and hold her desperately. “I was so worried about you!” My massive tears splash down on her and soon Lyanna is getting over her shock. Of course I was really worried she wouldn’t be here and everyone was about to die… but I won’t tell her that part, the tears are really selling this to everyone.

    “Careful with her, you can’t squeeze so tight.” Ashara scolds me, but has lost most of the edge she maintained the whole march here. “And you really need that hand looked at, so put her down and hold still.”

    “Sandor, go get Lyanna’s pup,” I wave him towards the litter with my free hand, but he just snorts at my description.

    “She’s not really a pup anymore, she’s already bigger than any dog I’ve ever seen.”





    Sandor fishes for information, but I can’t tell if it’s his own or Tywin’s. “I don’t understand, why aren’t we going back to Starfall?”

    Single file the party works our way down what is little more than a goat trail, with me being forced to shuffle along sideways with extreme care. The Sea of Dorne is shimmering orange under the rising sun, but no one pays it a second glance on this perilous hike.

    “Because then we have to sneak past the Reach again,” I grunt back at my squire and breath out in relief when the trail begins widening. “I don’t really want to play tugboat again, so I made sure to make new arrangements. Don’t worry, I told Gerion he’s free to head home whenever he wants.”

    “New arrangements...” Sandor trails off as he realizes the orange on the sea was not the sun, but forty Dornish ships flying the Martell flag.

    “Get down before they see us!” Warns Jorah, which prompts my followers to drop to the dirt hastily.

    Ashara sighs as she watches the dozen knights left by Lord Dayne crouch like fools. “I’m just glad father isn’t seeing this.”

    Arthur is being taken back to Starfall in her litter after being found bleeding on the rocks. His bones will heal, but he will never walk again. I guess this is still a net improvement overall, I’m still up a Dayne and a half.

    “Ladies, cover your eyes.” I warn the party before yanking my white toga off and waving it for the fleet’s attention. “Hey! Over here!”

    “What in the seven Hells are you doing?” Mors blanches at my blindingly pale body.

    “Who did you think I was sending letters to?” Snorting at his shocked look, I hastily slip my toga back on. “Alright, the moons hiding. It’s safe to look again." No one has moved towards the beach, so I sigh and explain. "What, did you think it was the Iron Islands I was trying to speak with?"

    The lead ship beaches itself on the beach right in front of us, with a few dozen armed men jumping down onto the sand gracefully. The man who saunters towards our group with a cocky smile can only be one man.

    “When we received the first letter, I was ready to kill you for the mockery I thought you offered my family.” Oberyn Martell is clean shaven and barely twenty, a far cry from the relaxed confidence he obtains in his later years. “The letter from Elia however… that is why we are here as friends.”

    “It was successful?” I can smell his barely contained glee, it kind of reminds me of the scent of lilac.

    He throws his spear to the ground and claps happily, his warriors settling into a relaxed stance. “Elia and the children are safe on Dragonstone, thanks to the words in Sir Jaime’s letter.” Laughing in relief, Oberyn almost dances in place. “What did you tell the Spider?”

    “To check the sewers for Wildfire, it would seem he found more than I expected.” Varys going with other four wasn’t planned, but I’ll deal with him when we arrive. I told him two more births are coming and his help will buy my silence, if Rhaella or Lyanna just so happens to have twins... it seems he's taking me up on that offer.

    “Aerys has called our spears to war, so I sail for King’s Landing with ten thousand spears.” He explains with a swagger in each step, as he marches forward and extends a hand for me to shake. “Against the Mad King!”

     
    Last edited: Sep 17, 2021
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