18

Harry smiled proudly as he stood outside of the Red Keep and looked upon the more than a hundred ships waiting to sail up the Blackwater Rush to unload at the King's Landing Harbor. Out of all of them, only one was meant to restock the castle itself, but one was all that was needed. On that ship, only the best was brought. Choice cuts of meat from his cattle, plump chickens, the freshest of vegetables and fruits, and more spices than they could ever use. There were many treats that they likely had never tasted.

Harry had spread the word the day after he beat Joffrey senseless. That had only been a couple of days ago. Joffrey was still bedridden, though he was expected to survive. The following morning, Cersei had woken him up with the best blowjob he had ever received. Once he filled her belly with cum, she slapped his face for the condition that he left her son in. It was a fair trade-off, he thought. Beyond the slap, nothing was said about it. She continued to treat him exactly the same … flirty at times and hateful at others.

The smallfolk probably scoffed at the idea that this new King from beyond the Narrow Sea would somehow care about their sufferings. No other King or Queen had done so before. He walked around the city, telling them to look out for the black ships with white sails. They did not look convinced and quickly put him from their minds.

After creating his spider silk fabric, he changed all of his ships' sails to a snowy-white silk with a black Lion of Night proudly displayed on the front. The thin silk cut down on the weight and sped the ships up a tiny bit. He, of course, had to put charms on them to keep them from getting dirty.

One after another, his ships docked, and his drones unloaded his ships. After finding out that there was indeed food being delivered, there was a mad scramble from the smallfolk, begging and pleading for food. Harry went down there himself to calm the panic.

"Fear not!" he called out with his magically enhanced voice. "All will have food tonight! I will be feeding everyone until the end of the war … free of charge!" Even this didn't quell their desires. These people were starving. His drones loaded carts and distributed food all over the city. They handed out fresh beef, fish, chicken, mutton, vegetables, fruits, breads, spices, even sweets and cakes to the little ones … all in the name of King Harold.

Harry then had his drones travel to the stricken areas of the city where the Bloody Flux was still spreading. They used his magical potions that he had whipped up and stored to help cure all who had taken ill. Harry never planned to sell any of his magical cures. He just kept them in case anyone he cared about suddenly became sick. At the moment, they were being used to keep the city from falling apart.

All day and night it went. Everyone got some food. Once all of the ships unloaded, another hundred showed up, taking their place. The empty ships returned to Sothoryos to restock before making the journey again. There was a nonstop line of black ships waiting to feed them.

The results were like night and day. Over the following days, almost all of the resentment and anger had melted away. Gorged with food, everyone was too full to care about anything other than complaining that they ate too much. Word quickly spread about the King's men curing the diseased as well. Their opinions of him were rising with every plate of food that they consumed. When Harry trotted down the streets of Flea Bottom on his beautiful, white steed with his ceremonial armor glinting in the sun, the crowds actually surrounded him … but not to attack. Instead, they wanted to touch him or thank him. "Harold the Great" they yelled, begging him to stay in King's Landing. All anyone talked about on the streets was him.

As the days passed, Joffrey eventually came out of his room. The swelling on his face had subsided mostly, but he still looked like a freakshow participant. He was very lumpy around the orbital sockets, and his jaw was wired to keep him from talking. He absolutely refused to be in the same room with any of them, which suited Harry just fine. Even Cersei didn't seem too keen on mothering him, though it was clear that she still loved her son.

The Dread Lord of Essos

Earlier in the night, Margaery Tyrell had looked upon her new husband with annoyance. Unlike most Lords, he wasn't taking liberties with the serving wenches. Instead, he was continuing to make eyes at her brother, Loras. He even refused to touch her at night and hadn't consummated their marriage. That had been a major blow to her self-esteem.

She had traveled with Renly and his army through the lush lands of the Reach. Their destination … King's Landing. When her father, Mace Tyrell, proposed the idea of her marrying Renly Baratheon, she mulled it over for a while before ultimately agreeing to it. Of course, the Tyrells put their full support into backing the youngest Baratheon on his journey to becoming the next King of Westeros. Throughout most of her life, her father promised that someday, she would be a Queen. That goal had stuck with her throughout the years. Her grandmother, Olenna, taught her everything that she could to help her with her goal. When she heard that Joffrey was to marry Sansa Stark, she was rightly disappointed. In truth, she was a bit spiteful that he would agree to marry a Northerner rather than the fair flower growing at his doorstep. But she digressed.

She at least hoped that she could turn their marriage into a happy one, but her hopes were dashed very early on. Now she was stuck in Bitterbridge while Renly galloped away with his calvary. After dinner, he had received word that his brother, Stannis, had besieged Reny's seat, Storm's End. Obviously, Renly couldn't let that go. Leaving his infantry behind, he took off as fast as he could, ordering her to stay in the safety of the Caswell's keep. It wasn't a good start to a marriage, she thought as she put her book down and carried a lit candle over to the vanity. Placing the silver candle holder down, she paid mind to not burn her long, flowing hair. Softly dropping down into the chair, she grabbed the hairbrush and began running it through her thick, brown curls. She counted out a hundred brushes before she put it down and ran her fingers through her luscious locks. With what little light there was in the dark room, she leaned in closer to the mirror and studied her face. What looked back at her was the beautiful face of a young, Noblewoman. Big brown eyes, a cute button nose, and full pink lips rested on a field of pale, unblemished skin. Her dark lashes were like feather dusters and only added to her beauty. Getting ready for bed, she stood up and discarded her nightgown.

Again, looking into the mirror, she studied her form. Turning to the side, she sighed at the sight before her. She had always longed for fuller breasts but was cursed with a small chest. Facing forward, she placed her hands underneath them and lifted them up. 'At least they are a handful,' she thought before letting them drop. She pushed her arms together which squeezed her breasts, making them appear bigger than they actually were. Letting her arms fall by her side, she sighed again.

"As I have said many times, do not waste time dreaming about things that you will never have. Focus on those that are within your grasp." The sudden voice behind her made her jump and squeak in fright. Turning around while covering her naked tits and crotch, she saw her grandmother, Olenna Tyrell standing there looking at her. The old woman tossed a bedsheet to her which she gladly caught and covered up.

"Grandmother!" she gasped. "What are you doing here?" she asked, confused.

"I've been trying to get to you, my dear. Thankfully, the march of the infantry has been slow, and now that Renly has left, we have plenty of time to talk in private," the old woman said as she stood there in front of her granddaughter. How she was able to get in without Margaery hearing her, she would never know.

"What about?" Margaery asked. "Is everyone alright?" she asked, concerned.

"All is well, rest assured. Or at least as well as can be expected," Olenna answered, pulling up a chair next to the bed and sitting down. She pointed for Margaery to sit on the bed, which she quickly did. "I've received word from my spies in King's Landing. Ser Jaime's bastard has returned from overseas … and he brought with him a dragon."

"May the Seven help us!" Margaery gasped, looking pale as she clutched the bedsheet tightly to her nude body.

"There will be no one to offer help if he turns the dragon on us … not even the gods. While I know that he wasn't treated fondly by certain members of his family, I do understand that blood is thicker than water." Olenna said, folding her hands on her lap.

"And our family has rebelled against his …" she said, staring off into the night sky through an open window.

"Yes. It is a mistake that may cost us dearly. Meanwhile, your oaf of a father sits at Highgarden calling himself the Hand of the King." Olenna shook her head in disappointment. "I knew it was a mistake to let him marry you off to that flowery fool, Renly. Alas, there is no point in complaining about what should have happened. Your idiot father has brought our family to the doorstep of destruction. Once again, I must take the reins and fix his mistakes," she said confidently. This confused Margaery.

"But what can be done about it? Nothing that I can think of," she said, innocently. Olenna smiled knowingly.

"My dear child … In the game of thrones, there is always another move to be made … if one is bold enough to make it, of course," she smirked, standing up. She reached out and lovingly stroked her granddaughter's cheek. "I have already sent a request to meet with the so-called Dread Lord of Essos. We shall see if he is as bold as I am. Now get some rest, my dear."

With that, Olenna slipped through her bedroom door, leaving the younger woman as confused as ever. Before long, she heard a great commotion outside. She scrambled out of bed and put on a robe to cover herself. That's when she heard a booming horn blowing. Not long after, the resident Maester knocked loudly on the door. When Margaery opened it, he barreled in, red-faced and out of breath.

"My Queen! King Renly … his calvary … attacked!" he bent over, gasping for breath.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Speak clearly!"

"The King … is dead! Ambushed by unknown soldiers along the Roseroad, not long after he left!"

Margaery stood there in complete shock, not knowing what had just happened. She was quiet for a minute or so until she was able to gather her wits. "Leave me," she quietly commanded. The Maester nodded and left the room, going back to help in that time of great distress. Things just got interesting it seemed.

The Dread Lord of Essos

Harry was using his magic to hover in place, hundreds of feet above the Sothoryosi ground. He rarely got to use his magic in such a way those days. It was nice to stretch his wings, so to speak. Below him was field after field of crops growing high and plentiful. The tropical sun and abundance of rain were keeping them growing year-round. That was good, considering he now had an extra city to feed. Over five hundred thousand new mouths relied on him for food. That didn't mean that other cities would be happy to accept less just so King's Landing could eat. Essosi cities were relying on him for fresh and cheap crops that they couldn't get anywhere else. He practically had the monopoly on providing Asshai with food and water. Hardly any other traders went there anymore. Sure, the Maesters claimed that the gold and gems from Asshai were cursed, but Harry knew that to be nonsense. They were no more cursed than gold from the mines below the Rock.

Having more mouths to feed meant he needed to increase output. The easiest way was to triple the number of farms growing food. He needed to do this anyway. Winter was on its way, and the number of customers he would have to provide for would soon skyrocket. Of course, they wouldn't get the King's Landing treatment. They would have to pay … in gold or something of equal value.

Just as they had before, his drones cut down trees and cleared the land for more fields, pushing the jungles further inland. As they were doing so, they discovered a new type of tree. He didn't need to talk to them since he knew what they knew. He could see through their eyes and found that they had discovered a tree that was very similar to a tree back on Earth that produced Frankincense. After seeing the similarities, Harry gave them instructions.

"Don't cut down any of these trees. Use a knife and cut a slit in the bark. The tree's sap will drip down and dry. Once it's dry, collect it," he told them. They had also discovered several different trees that produce edible nuts. Again, he commanded them to leave them standing and collect the nuts. There was no use throwing away good money.

Harry already collected some dried sap from the tree and tested it by burning it. The yellowish rock burned very slowly and produced a rich, sweet-smelling smoke that made him feel relaxed. He'd definitely be using this in the future, both personally and as a product to sell. The best part of it was that unlike the trees back on Earth, the ones in Sothoryos were amazingly tall and thick. His drones could climb the trees and make hundreds of slits on each one. A single tree could probably produce several hundred pounds of the resin in a single month. He was looking forward to the new business venture. He'd use the resin he collected and test it to figure out the best ways to use it.

The animal attacks were getting even worse the deeper they cut into the jungle. He had to replace several hundred drones that were either destroyed or heavily damaged. It was the cost of business, he told himself. Thankfully, they were just drones and not living people.

Seeing a new area that he had requested, he flew down for a closer look. Thousands of acres were filled with seedlings of different fruit trees that weren't native to the dark continent. Oranges, lemons, apples, plums, olives, pomegranates, and peaches were just some of the trees that were planted in his new orchards. Unfortunately, he didn't have the time to let them grow naturally as he would have preferred. Instead, he reached deep within himself and let out a blast of his powers. Immediately, the saplings shot into the air and leafed while their trunks grew thick. Shaking off the sudden tiredness, he flew down and checked on them. He could already see sprouts that would quickly turn into fruits within the coming months.

Harry also ordered new fields filled with cotton plants. Staying fed was only half the problem when winter came. Keeping yourself warm was just as important. People would need thick clothing if they wanted to survive. Already he had plenty of leather and furs from his slaughterhouses, so he'd be well set to provide the masses with cheap, quality clothes. It was just another way he could gain influence over the people of this world. Pushing away the exhaustion, he went back to work.

Later that night, he went back to the Red Keep and stripped down in his room. With his room kept at a constant chilly temperature, he made sure his bath was nice and hot. He sighed contently as he sat down in the hot water. He could feel the knots in his lower back releasing. The door suddenly opened, and Cersei walked in. Harry didn't even bother admonishing her for failing to knock. It was just something she did and probably would always do. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked tiredly.

He watched as his aunt stripped down and stepped into the hot bath with him. She also sighed as her body was lowered into the pleasant-smelling water. She crawled between his legs and rested her back against his chest.

"Wash me," she commanded. Harry raised an eyebrow at her audacity but didn't pass up the opportunity to fondle her bare breasts. Lathering his hands with soap from his city, which was of a much higher quality than the shit produced in Westeros, he slipped his hands underneath her breasts and slid them up, hefting her tits in his palms. He rubbed her hard nipples with his thumbs, earning a moan from her before he lathered them up with soap. "The smallfolk seem happy now," she told him.

"Do they?" he asked, acting dumb.

"Yes," she moaned as he toyed with her lovely tits. "The problem is that they now see you as their King."

"That's Joffrey's problem, not mine," he corrected her.

"So it is," she closed her eyes and hummed in contentment. "Though he will not be pleased with it."

"I imagine he won't. I can see him lashing out and ruining the goodwill that has been created. But like I said, that is not my problem. By then, we will be in Essos and away from any tantrums that he decides to throw," Harry explained. "If he is smart, he will use the boon that I have gifted him to his advantage." Harry punctuated his explanation by squeezing her breasts tightly. Letting them go, he moved his fingers to her hard, crinkled nipples. Pinching them and rolling them between his fingers, he infused her body with his magic, making her moan like one of Baelish's cheap whores.

"How do you make my body feel this way?!" she gasped wildly, arching her back and grabbing his hand. She moved one of them from her breasts to down between her legs. He let his fingers explore her wet folds.

"Who knows? Perhaps I have been gifted by the Seven," he teased. He got the sense that the Seven pussies were annoyed by his statement … not that he cared. Instead, he lifted Cersei up by her hips and dropped her down on his cock. Now that she had had a taste of his magic-infused cock, she couldn't get enough.

The Dread Lord of Essos

Tywin was becoming very irritated with the way that things were going. Since his grandson had come back to Westeros, the young man had taken it upon himself to grow his own sphere of influence as opposed to growing the influence of the Lannisters as a whole. He had been guilty of that many times, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that it was now happening to him, and he didn't care for it in the slightest.

'If only Joffrey hadn't been such a disappointment,' he thought as he sat in the Tower of the Hand. If he had been more even-tempered, the two young men could have become close friends. Sadly, that would never happen. Joffrey's mangled face only proved that.

Things were falling apart around him, and he now had to figure out a way to pick up the pieces. His gold mines were running dry, and suitable replacements hadn't been found yet. As Grandmaester Pycelle had declared that summer was now over, he had winter to worry about. If the Maesters were to be believed, the winter was sure to be long and bitter. At the moment, the Westerlands' primary provider of food was at war with them, so Tywin guessed that a helping hand wouldn't be offered from them. They didn't grow enough food to supply all of their people, so a new source would have to be found. That brought up another question.

"How in the fuck is that brat growing all that damn food?!" he cursed and banged his fist on the surface of his desk, causing his glass of wine to tip over and spill across his financial reports. "Shit!" he cursed again, grabbing a handkerchief and cleaning the stained papers.

Harold was not only providing his entire city with food but now the population of King's Landing as well. That wasn't the worst of it. No … the worst part was that his food was better than any that he had ever tasted. Much better than anything grown in the Reach. The smallfolk were now eating better than the nobles back in the Westerlands! He knew that once word got out, it would make him look bad to the Lords back home. It didn't matter to them that it was charity to the smallfolk and that it would end once the war was over. They looked for any opportunity to criticize him.

How his grandson did the things he did was a mystery to him. Hell, it was a mystery to everyone else as well. His spies rarely brought him any news that he found useful. Tywin recognized his incredible intelligence early on. Now he was kicking himself for not becoming closer to the boy. Had he done so, Harold would likely be turning to him for advice right then. Instead, he was drowning the city in food, making the smallfolk sing his praises. Already they were demanding that Joffrey step down and Harold be crowned King. Joffrey would not take that lightly when discovered. He could already feel the migraine from having to deal with that inevitable situation.

'Perhaps it's time to cut my losses and return to Casterly Rock,' he thought to himself. He could leave the malformed drunkard, Tyrion, to act as the Hand of the King in his stead. He needed to contact Mace Tyrell and try and work out a deal of some kind. He could not allow the Westerlands to lose its hard-fought influence. One thing was very clear though. Harold was now a player in the game. Tywin needed to figure out a way to keep his grandson loyal to the Lannisters. Him deciding to foster Myrcella and Tommen was a good start. The fact that he was also taking his daughter was even better. He would make sure to order Cersei to be on her best behavior. Unfortunately, that simply wasn't enough. He would have to think on it.

Harold paying off the Crown's debt, while an embarrassment to Tywin, was actually a boon. It gave him time to prepare and plan. The fact that his daughter brokered a deal with Harold behind his back was a slap in the face. Before the boy came back, she would have never even considered doing something so bold. To her credit though, Tywin hadn't given her much of a choice. Sadly, his choices were also limited. Looking over his wine-stained reports, the amount of gold being spent back at the Rock was far outweighing the amount coming in. If things continued this way, his family would be broke in ten years' time. Things needed to change. He needed to think for a while.