The Warg King

[Psyckosama]

'Something scarier than this,' Daenerys' expression shifted as her eyes unconsciously went down towards the direction of her bed, under which lay her chest containing the three most precious rocks in the world, rocks capable of bringing change to the world, 'I know of a beast like that,'

Click to shrink...

The Breaker of Chains is back... but this time she's not going to go fucking mad.

 

[Kclcmdr]

Jon very little big buddy Inky Der Terrah Of the Medium-size Krakens just taught a fleet of pirates the folly of their vile trade...

 

[ATP]

Who Dany would sacrifise to get her dragons? if all they need is living human,then 3 average pirates should be enough.

 

[oscar e Sampedro Lopez]

Thanks for the chapter

 

[LazyWizard]

"Haha, Marvellous! Marvellous!!" Robert exclaimed in jubilation, slapping his thigh again and again, as wine spilt from the goblet he was holding in his other hand, but the man did not seem to care. "I knew the boy had it in him, I knew it!" he boasted proudly to the members of the small council beside him, who all smiled appropriately to humour him.


At the centre of the Tourney grounds, Jon disembarked from his horse and immediately went to help the defeated knight back up on his feet.


"Are you fine, Ser?" Jon asked in a worried voice as he examined the elderly knight to make sure that there were no signs of broken bones or twisted fingers.


"Of course, lad." The old knight groaned in answer as he shook his head and slowly got up with his help. "I learned to fall long before I learned to ride. So do not worry about hurting this old man. I will simply have some ugly bruises for a week or so and then be back to having just back pain and knobby knees," he chuckled as he rotated his arms to loosen his joints, "Though it has been quite a few decades since someone has sent me flying on the third pass," he said as he looked appraisingly at the boy who he had grown very fond of over the week or so that he had known him, "You did a good job, boy," he praised as he patted the boy on his shoulder.


*ROAR*


At that moment, the crowd in the stands, who had already been clapping and cheering, became even more enthusiastic in their celebration and began screaming themselves hoarse as they saw the gesture from the Legendary knight for the young winner.


This was the kind of thing that they had only ever heard tales about, so to see it happening right in front of their own eyes was a dream come true for them.


And some of the usual braggarts sitting amidst the stands almost couldn't hold in their excitement and immediately began running from their seats, wanting nothing more than to rush towards their homes, their friends or even the nearest tavern, to just share(boast) everything that they had seen here today.


"The crowd seems to adore you very much," The knight commented in a low voice as he turned towards the stands with a distant look in his eyes, as if he was seeing something that was not here.


The knight remembered the last time he had seen someone be so popular amongst the smallfolk populace, and how easy it had been for that man to put smiles on the faces of his subjects. 'The charisma is here too...'


"They just appreciate the one who wins," Jon answered with a a humble smile, as both of them took their horses by their reins and began to head towards the exit, "If it had been someone else winning out here, then I am sure they would have cheered for him just as enthusiastically," he said as he raised his hand towards the stands, making the screams from the smallfolks even louder.


"Hm, I am not so certain about that," Barristan replied with an amused look on his face, "After all, the Tyrell boy is just as young as you, and he too has not lost a single bout yet, but I do not see them being so enthusiastic in chanting his name."


And was that not the truth, as out of all the contestants out here competing in this tourney, which included almost all the big famous characters from the Seven Kingdoms, it was Jon Snow, the bastard from the North, whose name was the most repeated on the lips of bards, sailors, and smallfolks in the taverns of King's Landing.


It was as if every one of them had already decided that the boy was to be the champion of this tournament... even though it was the first time he was competing in one.


And the reason behind it all was also not very hard to deduce, as not only was the boy's entrance into the port of King's Landing grand enough that it was still the talk of the city a week later.


But he was also an underdog in their opinion, someone who did not come from privilege, who they could relate to much more than the other nobles, as he was a bastard who made his fortune with his own hands.


Plus, it did not hurt that the boy was as handsome and charismatic as they come, and was skilled enough to beat all the arrogant noble lords out there in a fair fight.


Not to mention, this whole Tourney was being held in his name for the feat of defeating an evil pirate king far away in the Stepstones... so all in all, one could say that after just a few days, the name Jon Snow had become the most famous one in this city, and now even beggars about the bastard of the North.


"The Melee is in a few days, so will you be participating in—"


"Ser Barristan! Jon Snow!"


A loud, booming voice interrupted Jon's inquiry, and both men turned their heads only to see the King standing at the edge of his platform, excitedly waving them to come to him.


The two exchanged helpless glances with each other at that, knowing that their chance to get some well-deserved rest had just disappeared, but there was little that one could do in front of the king's orders, so they sent away their horses and began making their way towards the Royal pavilion.


...


"Haha, tell me, Ser Barristan, how did it feel to lose to someone so young?" Robert began in a teasing voice the moment he caught sight of the man climbing the stairs, his entire being radiating with the excitement of someone who had just had a satisfying big meal.


It had always been a guilty pleasure of the Baratheon king to watch the high and mighty veteran knights, some of whom were even older than him, lose miserably to the younger ones.


It made the man feel as if his decision to let go and enjoy himself to the fullest, uncaring of his health and body, was not so bad.


After all, even these men who rigorously trained themselves every single day were out here losing to these brats, so was it not a better use of time to drink and party to his heart's content?


"Not too bad, your grace," Ser Barristan answered graciously, looking completely unbothered by the defeat, "It was a humbling experience to lose so thoroughly out there; it makes me feel that it is time I leave these youthful competitions to the... youth."


"Ah, nonsense!" Robert snorted as he waved his hand. "Don't hide behind your age, old man. We all know how sharp your skills still are," he said as he turned his eyes towards Jon, who had been silently standing beside him. "It was the boy's pure skill that beat you, nothing else."


"I cannot argue with that, your grace," Barristan smiled before he nodded to Jon and went to join his fellows standing guard behind the royals.


Just as Jon was also contemplating on an excuse to take his leave, Robert sighed, "Ah, if only your father had been here, I am sure he would have been very proud of you," he said with a nostalgic expression on his face, as if imaginging Eddard sitting beside him braggin about his son, and him feeling jealous because none of his progeny had anything worth bragging about, "Why are you standing so far, come take a seat beside me,"


Robert said as he enthusiastically patted the chair beside him.


Only half the small council was present on the royal platform at the moment, because Jon Arryn, whose seat Robert was pointing at for Jon, was still back in the Red Keep, stuck in his chambers handling the increased paperwork because of the sudden influx of all the Nobles, Merchants, and other smallfolks into the Capital.


And keeping him company in the Red Keep was Stannis, who was staying away from the Tourney with the same excuse: that there were too many ships entering and exiting the Harbour for him to comfortably sit here 'entertaining' himself with games.


Another notable absence was of the Master of Whisperer, Varys, who had actually been very enthusiastic about always being present for the popular games of the Tourney, continuously keeping his eyes peeled over the various pavallion belonging to the Lord paramounts to see who was speaking with whom, but for some reason, over the past few days, the Eunuch had begun taking his leave midway through citing various excuses, and the ones who were the most familiar with him, had long noticed that the man looked... distressed underneath his fake smile.


In the end, the only ones present here for the much-anticipated semi-final of the Tourney were Baelish, Renly, and Maester Pycelle, and joining them from the smaller seats at the front were Myrcella and Tommen, with their dearest Uncle Tyrion sitting beside them, keeping them entertained.


The Queen was also not here, but she was indeed present in the grounds and was sitting beside her father and other family members in the Lannister part of the stands, and accompanying her was her eldest son, Joffrey, and their absence was one of the reasons that the two royal children were so relaxed and peeking at Jon with curiosity in their eyes.


"You need to tell me how you trained yourself, boy," Robert asked the moment Jon took his seat. "How can your strikes be so precise, and how ever did you achieve your level of strength at this age? There has to be a secret behind this... Did your father make you drink some ancient magical juice or something, or perhaps sacrifice some animals to the Heart tree to ask the old gods for strength?" he asked with a mischievous look in his eyes, as he leaned down to whisper, "Don't worry, you can tell me; I will keep your secret."


"Just practise, your grace," Jon replied with a small smile on his face as he subtly leaned back, "No sacrifices involved, as far as I am aware."


'I can't say the same about magic, though...' the boy murmured internally, imagining the look on the King's face if he knew how close to the truth he had been at this moment.


In fact, in the beginning, Jon had not even been intending to participate in the Tourney, or even if he had been forced to, he had expected to lose honourably in the quarter-final to the old Royce or the Blackfish, or maybe even before that, and then prepare wholeheartedly for the Melee.


After all, even during their training period at Winterfell, he had always been behind Robb in this art.


Though that was mostly because Jon always considered it to be too dangerous a game, where death or maiming was just a little slip away, and felt it gave little returns for the investment this skill demanded, so he just always focused on his other martial skills.


But then he was blessed with that bullet time skill because of Frost in the fight against the Mountain, and... everything changed.


With the additional brain resources available to him through his warg connection, Jon could enter a completely different world during his bout against other knights, where everything slowed down for him... so much so that it gave him complete freedom to utilise Peggy's speed to the fullest.


And as everyone knows, the worst thing you can do during a joust is to go at your maximum speed, because then everything would be out of your control and you would be depending heavily on luck or instincts to guide your strike or to defend against the opponent's lance.


But Jon did not have to worry about that, as he could accurately see the position of everything in slow motion and make minute changes at the very last moment so that his lance always struck true.


And since everyone knows that speed is power... so no matter who his opponent was, whether it was the bulky beast Sandor Clegane or a skilled veteran like Ser Barristan, Jon could easily defeat them without losing a sweat.


In fact, it was only because he respected the Old Knight so much that he ever let their bout even go to the third round; otherwise... well, one only needed to see the sulking Hound getting drunk in the corner to know how humiliating it was to lose to a little brat in the second pass.


'No amount of strength or skill shall ever come close to defeating a cheat,' Jon decided internally as if he had stumbled upon a fundamental truth of the world.


Rober snorted as he shook his head, "If practice was all it took, then so many old Knights wouldn't have been eliminated in the first three rounds," he said with a little disdain in his voice, "After all, practising and keeping their skills sharp is the only task they have, but I do not see them achieving much, even after all that effort."


Jon had no answer to that, so he simply shrugged with a helpless expression as if saying that he couldn't help it if he was a talented young boy.


"—This is it!! IT'S THE MOMENT WE HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!!" The announcer's loud, enthusiastic voice interrupted their conversation, and they turned towards the grounds to see that the other semifinal was finally starting, "THE PRIDE OF LANNISTER VERSUS THE PRODIGY OF THE TYRELLS. WHO SHALL WIN THIS BOUT—"


"About time," Robert grumbled as he leaned forward with an interested expression, "So what do you think, lad? Which one of them do you expect to see in the finals?" he asked Jon with a raised eyebrow.


"I would go with Loras Tyrell," Jon answered with little to no hesitation, drawing surprised glances from everyone in the vicinity.


"Oh, and why is that?" Robert asked with an intrigued look in his eyes.


"As I previously said, it all comes down to training in my opinion," Jon answered with a tilt of his head, "I believe people who have been at the top of the field for a long time tend to get complacent and slack off, since they have already achieved what they set out to, while those who are still young and rising, strive to do their very best in every training session and bout, because they have a firm goal pushing them forward. So yes, I do believe Ser Loras has a higher chance of winning in this."


Of course, in truth, everything Jon said was bullshit and made up, and the real reason he was so sure of this was that it had already happened in the canon around the same time during the Hand's Tourney.


In fact, even before this, Loras had already defeated Jamie once at a previous tourney hosted during Joffrey's name day, but for most of the people present here, that was a once-in-a-lifetime fluke, and they still believed in Jamie's reputation more, while for Jon, since it had already been done twice, it was no longer a matter of chance but skill.


"Would you be willing to put money on that conviction of yours?" Baelish, who had been silently observing their conversation until now, suddenly intervened with a harmless smile on his face.


"What are you up to, Littlefinger?" Robert asked with a suspicious look on his face, as if trying to see holding some kind of grudge against the boy because of what happened back at the port.


"Just a benign bet, your grace," Baelish answered with a raise of his hands, "I am certain someone as rich as JonSnow here would not mind having a little fun with some gold."


"Sure," Jon agreed after a momentary pause, "How about a thousand gold dragons on the winner then?"


The amount drew surprised glances from everyone in earshot, as all of them stared at the boy, whose calm smile made it seem as if he was betting pennies instead of gold. And while they were already familiar with the fact that the boy was rich, it still took them by surprise the casual way in which he threw his gold on a whim.


"I am afraid not," Baelish answered with a forced smile on his face, "After all, I am just the small lord of a tiny place, and cannot bring myself to bet what amounts to a whole year of my income on a bet. So you will need—"


"I will take the bet then," Tyrion calmly interjected as he turned his head and looked at Jon, a crooked smile on his face, "My brother would be quite cross with me if he found out that I did not jump on the chance to bet my gold on his victory."


"Ah, this is perfect then," Baelish jumped in with a delighted expression before Jon could respond to the dwarf. "We all can see whose eyes are more keen amongst the two of you," he said with a faint smile on his face, but the smirk hidden underneath led Jon to suspect that this weasel had been expecting something like this from the start.


Ignoring the petty lord, Jon turned his head towards Tyrion, who was staring at him with raised eyebrows, with curiosity and a tiny hint of provocation in his eyes.


But Jon could guess that there was probably no malice behind this, and the dwarf was likely just bored and wanted to have some fun, so he shrugged, "Why not? At least I know for sure that you will be able to back up your words and pay me when you lose."


"Oho, so confident in your little friend?" Tyrion quipped with an amused look on his face, "Is it truly about skills or is there something more involved?" he asked with a meaningful glance towards the Tyrell pavilion, where the pretty rose of Highgarden was drawing even more appreciative glances than his sister.


"Just skills," Jon answered without a change in his expression.


The boy knew that his outing with Margaery had drawn notice from various powers in King's Landing, but he did not care much for it, as it wasn't something he wanted to hide in the first place.


"Ah, seeing you two rich ones competing against each other has gotten me even more excited about this bout," Robert said as he took a big gulp and turned his eyes towards the grounds where the two competitors had already taken their starting position.


At that moment, a gust of wind blew, and almost immediately, every single person present scrunched up their noses with disgust in their eyes, as the infamous smell of Kingslanding made its presence known to everyone.


"Ah, fuck!" Robert groaned as he covered his nose with his collar to breathe a little easier. "Why did we even have to have the Tourney here?" It hadn't been the first time he had been greeted by this unpleasant smell that made one want to vomit.


This was actually one of the main reasons he did not like leaving the Red Keep, as at least in his castle, the height and wind meant that he didn't need to be constantly reminded of how dirty and shitty this city was.


"Because this was the only place that was big enough to hold the crowd, your grace," Baelish answered with a helpless look.


"Damn it! What I wouldn't pay to make this smell disappear from my city?" Robert grumbled as he shifted in his seat.


"Then why not simply have the shit cleaned from this city?" a voice suddenly asked, making everyone turn their heads to see who the idiot was speaking so simply about the problem that had bothered the successive kings for centuries on end.


"If only it were that easy to do, lad," Robert answered after a few moments with a look of pity in his eyes, thinking that the boy must not have be fully aware of the size of places like flea bottom yet, because if he knew about the sheer number of lowlifes living in this city who threw their piss and shit directly into the streets every single day, he would not be able to calmly say this sentence.


"I think... I should be able to do it."


///

 

[Kclcmdr]

Jon Snow Stark offering to try to clean/cleanse the smelly broken sewers of KL while Petyr is around to annoy him..
We wait..