Chaos is a Ladder

A/N: 6.55k words. *Sigh* my chapters are just getting progressively longer xD

'First' chapter of the week that counts towards my usual schedule of 10-15k words.

OBS: NOTICE THAT THE FIRST POV IS FROM TWO YEARS AGO. SLIGHTLY BEFORE AEGON WAS TOLD ABOUT HIS 'FOSTERING' AT THE WALL. HE STILL DISLIKES CATELYN AND NED AT THIS POINT.

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Winterfell - Great Hall, The North - 287 AC

POV | Aegon Targaryen

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was warm and rambunctious, with bards alternating between songs from all corners of Westeros and jesters making merry. Aegon was seated with the guards of Winterfell as he watched the Lords partying from a distance.

His expression was stoic as his eyes kept scanning everything. Any sign of falsehood in their expressions, any possible alliances that he might pick up from his observations could prove to be useful. The close proximity of Lord Glover, Bolton, and Ryswell was something that did not escape him. 'I'll need to keep an eye on that when my warging is more developed.'

After he felt that he had seen what he needed to, he started digging into the scrumptious meal before him. The venison was well-marinated, the potatoes were on the right side of golden, and his spiced honey milk worked perfectly to help it all down. The side dish of green beans and rabbit feed was already gone.

'I have to swallow that nasty shit down as fast as possible, so it doesn't ruin the rest of the meal.'

His existence was a weird one. Sometimes his confidence was just overflowing with the sense of superiority of a transmigrator. Sometimes he just could not help but feel incredibly lonely. Angry. Hateful. Lonely.

It was not like he did not have friends and family. He loved Robb and Sansa, and he knew that he would love Arya just as much when she would be born in a few moons. It just was not enough to fill that slowly growing void he felt at times. Visiting his mother's tomb helped at times, but it only kept the feelings at bay.

He was seven-name days old. Talented beyond his years. Yet sometimes he just felt like he was carrying the burden of the entire world on his shoulders. The existence of people like Willas Tyrell and Arianne Martell did not exactly help either.

His burden would have been somehow manageable if he had to best The Night King from his memories, but the addition of these people told him differently. The books were just as involved in the truth of the world he was born into, and that thought continued to terrify him.

Euron Greyjoy. A leader of whatever the fuck the Others were. A Corpse Queen. A Southern Wall in Essos, which is keeping out some other monstrosities of magic. 'I really fucking don't want to deal with all that. My cunt uncle and aunt don't exactly make it easy either.'

He clenched his fists in anger. His usual companion throughout the day. "Miaw?" The soft voice of Freya alerted him to her presence as she cuddled up to him. His other daily companion. One he much preferred to his anger.

She perched on his shoulder and snuggled up to him, and he could feel his anger bleeding out as their minds connected. "You're the best, you know that?" he asked her gently.

"I do try my best." Answered a cheeky voice belonging to a girl, who looked to be slightly older than him. She was tall and lanky with short hair, a typical tomboy with deep brown hair and grey eyes. The First Men Blood was strong in her.

Aegon raised an eyebrow, at the interrupting girl and Freya looked at her indignantly as the dumb human had tried to steal her rightful praise. The bear etched on her clothing told him that she was one of the Mormonts, but he could not determine who.

Her smile grew larger as she saw him trying to identify her. "Dacey, Dacey Mormont." His eyes widened a little before his usual stoic expression returned. "Well met, Lady Mormont. Do you need anything?"

He was not really used to meeting many of the High-born kids as they usually mingled with his cousins. He kept himself fairly secluded to escape any possible ire from the fish woman.

"Yes. Your company." She answered smilingly as she sat down beside him and used her hip to scoot him over. He chuckled at her audacity, and Freya raised her hackles until he rubbed beneath her chin. She purred happily and closed her eyes in enjoyment.

"Well, it seems you have it, My Lady." He told her before she scrunched her eyes together and said a single word.

"Dacey."

"Hmm?" he tilted his head. 'I know your name, you weird girl. You just told me.'

"Call me, Dacey. Not, My Lady. Just Dacey." She told him with an earnest expression and a slight blush on her face.

'Well, I guess that makes sense, sort of. I thought girls liked that whole My Lady thing though… Hmm. I have to add that to my notes.'

"Dacey. I can do that. So, what brings you here, My Lady?" He asked her with an infuriating smirk on his face. A smirk that only increased in proportion as he could literally see the ire rise on her face.

At this point, he was expecting her to retaliate with words, which is why he did not see the stomp on his foot beneath the table coming. "Argh!" he exclaimed as her wooden sole hit his left pinkie toe.

"What was that for, you crazy bear?!" He asked her heatedly.

"Hmph. You get what you deserve." She answered as she crossed her arms on her chest and looked at him haughtily.

Freya answered in his place as she started hissing furiously. 'You dare?!' She jumped at Dacey and the adventurous girl jumped out of her seat as the cat started chasing her across the hall.

"Joooon! Get your cat under control!" She shouted across the Hall causing everyone to focus on the hilarious spectacle. Meanwhile, Aegon was laughing at his seat as the She-Bear got her just deserts.

His voice rang out in the Hall. "Freya, come back. The She-Bear has capitulated against your might." The Lords, servants, and guards laughed alike as the grey cat with emerald-green eyes walked back towards her friend with the swagger of a Queen.

He could almost feel two sets of eyes boring into his skull, but seven years of ignoring them had turned into a reflexive action. Despite the feeling, he could not keep the amusement off his face as Dacey stomped back towards him with her lanky arms on her hips and righteous fury in her eyes.

It was at that exact moment when he felt that retreating strategically might be prudent for his right foot. He ran towards the exit using men, tables, and chairs to somersault across obstacles, animate and inanimate alike. Freya and Dacey were hot on his heels and Greatjon Umber's rumbling laughter was the accompaniment to his acrobatics.

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POV | Catelyn Tully

"He's his father's son, alright!" boomed the Greatjon drunkenly. She turned towards her husband's enormous bannerman with a livid look in her eyes. A hush spread across the hall as the statement sunk in. She looked towards her husband and saw his eyes grow cold and his expression stoic, all signs of amusement left his face and the feeling of dread spread into her heart.

The fear she had always held for the Bastard of Winterfell slowly transformed into hatred. 'Is there truth to it? Is the rumor true, Ned?'

Eddard's tone commanded the attention of the entire Hall as he spoke, it was all Ice and reminded every single Lord of the man who helped overthrow the rule of the Dragons. "Jon is mine. That will be the end of it."

She looked around at the other Lords and Ladies and the hate in her heart grew as she saw the contemplating looks on the faces of Lord Bolton and Lady Mormont as well as the smirks on Lord Glover and Ryswell. 'No.'

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Bear Island, by The New Weirwood - 289 AC

POV | Aegon Targaryen

Aegon started chuckling as he remembered his first encounter with the She-Bear who was embracing him tightly. 'She became one of the boys, but she is hardly a boy right now.'

"Why are you laughing?" asked the suddenly blushing Bear maid, as she pulled back from the hug. The starting of a developing beauty was startlingly obvious to him.

"Do you remember Freya?" Amusement dripped from his tone as he asked.

"Hmph, of course, I remember your demon cat. I'm not scared of her anymore. She is just a little house cat after all." She answered pompously.

"Hmm. You sure *pft* about that?" He bit down on his lower lip as he tried to stop his laughter from bubbling over.

She was just about to answer when the enormous tiger walked up behind him and looked her straight in the eyes. Freya's expression was mocking Dacey harshly. As the grey eyes met the emerald green eyes of Freya, the young girl's mouth dropped open in shock. She stuttered: "H-h-o-o-How?!"

His infuriating smirk returned. "Magic."

Her head backed to him as she whispered. "The sacrifice?" in a questioning tone.

'Wow, an impressively level-headed response from one who has not encountered magic before.'

Aegon smiled sadly as he looked upon his best friend and rubbed her below her chin as he used to when she was just a cat. "Her life." He answered, his voice thick with emotion.

Seeing the questioning look in the eyes of the young girl, he decided to elaborate. It felt liberating to actually talk to someone about his magic. Like it was not some dirty secret that needed to be hidden away and treated with caution. Like it was something beautiful to be cherished and respected.

"It's ancient magic, and I honestly don't understand it fully yet. Shortly after you guys left from the Harvest Feast, we went hunting."

She interrupted. "Oh yes, all of The North heard about that. They say you and Robb killed a hundred wildlings by yourselves!" admiration coloring her tone.

He burst out a laugh at the outrageousness of rumors' development when no one could check the facts. "Not exactly what happened." She was about to butt in again, but he decided to save himself some time and put a finger on her lips to shush her.

"Let me finish." She blushed crimson and nodded timidly. A burst of laughter from behind reminded him that he was not all alone. Not that he minded Maege's presence, he quite liked the warrior woman.

"One of the wildlings broke my left arm after Freya pushed his arm off course from my head." Her eyes widened in shock and Freya started rubbing into his neck at the memory. He continued. "I gutted the fucker with my short sword, but it had grown too brittle, so I had to switch to my spear. As you probably know, fighting with a spear, with only one hand is not ideal, when you're as strong as a boy. No matter how much Giants Blood is in your veins."

He smiled slightly at the end. The power of rumors was truly a beautiful thing, especially in the North where people were more prone to believe such things. "Anyway, I ended up fighting a spearman, and as he had the complete advantage of reach and health, he stomped my dumbass." Both the Bear ladies laughed at his jape before he proceeded.

"Robb managed to shoot him before he could skewer me, but I was still lying bleeding, dying, on the ground." His mind played the scene for him once more. The miracle of surviving. He still owed Freya and Rhaenys for that.

"Freya did something there. She licked the wound clean, and whatever magic ended up being channeled, changed her forever. If she dies, I live. If I die, she dies too." His affectionate eyes turned towards Freya.

"She must love you very much." Said Dacey, newfound respect in her eyes as she looked at Freya. The large feline huffed as if to state that Dacey was absolutely correct.

"Not as much as I love her." Answered Aegon before he ruffled Freya's pristine fur. The great feline pounced on him and brought him to the ground she started licking him.

"Mercy, Freya, please!" Begged the ticklish Dragon Prince.

The shine of the moon, stars, and the Weirwood illuminated the clearing. All signs of violence were gone, and only the idyllic scene of two kids, a grown woman, and great beasts lounging around were present. Their joy and happiness were a stark contrast to the truth of the world.

They stayed in the clearing throughout the night, the peacefulness and joy too precious to break. The world and reality could wait another day.

Moving forward continuously without ever appreciating the truly special moments in life… was no way to live. What is the point of survival if you never just live?

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The Crag, The Westerlands - 289 AC

POV | Robert Baratheon

The Stag King grunted as he pulled out of the third whore he had fucked during the night. His brother was breaking the Iron Fleet in the Straits of Fair Isle, something which Robert resented him for quite greatly.

'There that fucking stick in the mud gets to break skulls, and I'm stuck here because the damn squids prefer boats over land.'

Robert knew that he was bad on a ship, but that did not mean he did not want to fight. Nine years sitting on the blasted throne had made him tired of the court, especially considering his dream had been to fight until he grew old.

'If it wasn't for those pesky dragon shits… My father would still have ruled the Stormlands and I would have lived as a warrior well into my fifties, Lyanna by my side and with a son who could have learned to rule by my father. Not this shitty copper-counting and dealing with golden-haired lickspittles.'

He dressed in a yellow silk tunic and black breeches that barely covered his enormous physique that still made maidens blush and wives cuck their husbands before he walked out towards the Mess Hall of The Crag.

His mood was incredibly sour, tired of the waiting and politicking as he was. 'Even Ned got to help break them at Seagard. The men are singing of the second coming of The Hungry Wolf. Hmm, I should spar with him, see if there is any truth in it.' He took a great swig of the wine from his wineskin.

He was almost by the grand oaken doors of the Hall, the guards moved to open them for him, four men, two for each door to move their weight, but the King had no time for weaklings, as he pushed them open, a hand on each door. 'Fucking weaklings. Bow down to the Stag. I'd crush the Mountain like I'd crush any other man, not to mention little shits like you.'

"Ned, my friend!" He shouted just as his arrival was announced by the herald. He shot the screaming idiot a withering glare before he asked the men in the Hall to be at ease. He took another swig of wine.

"Your Grace, you seem well." Answered his ever-stoic friend, with a slight bow.

"Aye, but not as well as you, Hungry Wolf." Rebutted the Stag King.

Eddard shook his head exasperatedly. "The men are jesting. I honestly just want to finish this farce and go home to my wife and children. If I have to fight like a hungry wolf for that to happen… Then so be it."

Robert looked around and saw the respect the men had for Ned at that statement. 'He is happy with his family… Why do I feel so jealous of that? Oh, I know. My wife is a cunt, and my son is a sick fuck. Neither of us got the woman we wanted, yet he found peace and happiness still.' Another swig of wine escaped down his gullet. "More wine!" He boomed and a servant rushed to give him a new wineskin.

He knew it was a shitty thing for him to do, but he felt an irrational need to hurt his friend. Or at least create some emotional turmoil, just to see if he would handle it as badly as he himself had done. 'Maybe he'll sire another bastard, or start drinking…'

"You seem happy with your family. I am happy for you. It's good that you have come to love your wife." Said the King, and he could see the growing interest from the Lords, and he was honestly reveling in it. The tender look in his friend's eyes, made his ire grow unreasonably. He took an even larger swig of wine.

"Aye, Lady Catelyn is a lovely woman, and she has given me four beautiful and smart children. My heir is already better than I could ever hope to be." The Stark Lord smiled fully, and the sight made many a man raise their eyebrows in shock. The sheer pride in his voice was palpable, and his grey eyes were shining.

The jealousy in Robert's heart grew into an ugly being, all-consuming in its existence, and the jealous monster could not help but say out loud the worst words the Baratheon King could ever have uttered toward someone he cared for. "Quite the ladies' man, The Quiet Wolf turned out to be." Robert had a toxic smirk on his face as he continued. He was feeling quite lightheaded because of all of the wine, but that did not stop him from downing another swig.

"First you attain the undying love of Ashara Dayne, and now you have the love of the most beautiful woman in The Riverlands. You have truly been a fortunate man." By the Ice that crept onto his friend's features, Robert knew that he should shut up now, but he just could not. Dragging his friend down onto his own misery just appealed to him right now. Envy was an ugly feeling, the great swig of wine he downed dampened the feeling for a few seconds.

"Robert." Ned's voice was cold. Distant. The same voice he had used when he had been ordered to break the Siege at Storm's End before he was allowed to bring Lyanna home. 'He had to be punished though. He dared to condemn the death of the Dragon spawn.'

"Oh, come off it, Ned!" His laughter boomed in the hall, some of the lickspittles joining him. "They say Ashara has declined every single match and proposal she has ever received! She would only ever love one man, she says! Tell us the secret, Ned!"

The stoic façade was almost breaking now. "I hear your son together is even more of a genius than your heir. The boy who went to The Wall to slaughter wildlings without taking the Black!" The whispers broke out through the Hall. Every single one of them had heard of the Bastard of Winterfell by now. Slaying men in single combat at the age of seven, riding Tigers and Shadowcats around like they were horses. The rumors were aplenty.

"Shut up… your Grace." Seethed the Wolf Lord, his lips curled into a snarl as he looked at the King. Their usual relationship was forgotten. Robert's eyes widened in shock for a second. He looked around the Hall and realized that he was not the only one who looked absolutely flabbergasted. Tywin Lannister was the only one who looked just as angry at him as Eddard. The rest seemed equally amused.

Robert knew that he had drunk too much, but he was bad at managing his appetites for women and wine. The sheer venom in his friend's words seemed to sober him for a bit, and he winced internally as he realized what he had just said in his drunken stupor.

He tried to reverse his words with a jape. "Oh, stop being a stick in the mud, Ned! You know how I get when I've drunk too much wine. Empty words! Nothing more." Being drunk did not seem to help his sense of humor, and Robert seemed to realize that he had just damaged his best relationship irrevocably. Ned nodded, the ice melting slightly away from his features, as they finished their food in silence.

Alas, what had once been broken could be mended, but it would never return to the same state again.

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Slightly later

POV | Tywin Lannister

The Lion Lord was seething as he stalked toward Robert's room like a lion on the prowl. 'The Greyjoys launch a Rebellion because they think the Kingdoms separated, and here comes my idiot good-son and stomps on the most important alliance behind his reign.'

Sometimes he felt like he was the only intelligent being in his immediate family. 'One is an over-glorified bodyguard, and the other thinks herself a cunning man in a dress. Cersei better be pregnant with a son, someone has to take the reigns of Casterly Rock, especially if Jaime is going to continue playing Knight.'

He did not even knock as he stepped into the King's quarters startling the whores he was pounding away at. He looked upon them in disdain as they started scrambling away, and Robert turned towards him in annoyance. "What now?" The oaf grunted.

"Do you know what you're doing?" His face was carved from stone, and his green eyes were flinty as he spoke.

"Fucking and drinking, what's it to you?" he answered crassly. 'This slob is King… At least my blood will sit upon it when he dies. Hopefully, that will happen soon.

"Stark and Tully. 80,000 men when they raise their combined might. Add Arryn and you have 120,000 that will not fight for your son if you proceed to destroy the alliances that are keeping you on the Iron Throne." Tywin was pissed beyond belief.

"After the Rebellion rumors flew that he killed the commander of the previous Kingsguard and likewise managed to defeat the Sword of the Morning. Rumors who have gained new life after his last battle at Seagard." His eyes bore into his good son as he proceeded.

"This is your Kingdom's first test of cohesion, and you decide to spit on one of your staunchest supporters. Please do explain what nonsense went through you m-" he was interrupted by the golden goblet of wine that missed his head and had cut long enough into the oaken door that it was now stuck.

"Don't fucking question me. I was drunk. Ned knows it was a joke." He growled.

Tywin felt the hate growing as he looked upon the petulant man. He had served another King for twenty years, someone he had considered a dear friend for years, yet all he ended up with was the spite of a lesser man.

Now, after the oaf had married his daughter, he had first slighted him by not offering him the position he had for twenty years, and had fulfilled with utmost distinction, and now he proceeded to slight and humiliate him with his every action. He cleaned the wine that had spilled on his face.

"You'd best get your act together." He sniped before he stalked out, his visage darkening considerably as he went. 'No one disrespects a Lannister unpunished.'

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Fisherman's village, The Riverlands - 289 AC

POV | Septon Gar

"The Father's face is stern and strong,

he sits and judges right from wrong.

He weighs our lives, the short and long,

and loves the little children."

He was crying as he was looking upon the Ironborn disembarking from their ship, ready to slaughter the common folk.

"The Mother gives the gift of life,

and watches over every wife.

Her gentle smile ends all strife,

and she loves her little children."

His Song of the Seven was the only thing that kept him standing, as his words filled him with strength and conviction. He might die today, but if he did then it would be with the words of his Gods on his lips.

"The Warrior stands before the foe,

protecting us where e'er we go.

With sword and shield and spear and bow,

he guards the little children."

He saw the first attack, a huge boulder of a man, about to kill little Brynden. A boy named after the Black Fish for his honorable protection of the smallfolk, even when other Lords would gladly burn down a village and kill them to further their courses.

An arrow hit him straight in the eye, and the man collapsed on the ground. The Septon stopped his song in shock as a man clad in complete black, rode into the village, three more arrows each finding purchase in a raider.

The rider rode towards the Ironborn, his strength unwavering as he stood before his foes. The Septon felt utmost joy surge through him as his prayers were answered. He sang out loud:

"The Warrior stands before the foe,

protecting us where e'er we go."

His voice reached a crescendo as the aura of the warrior almost seemed to exude from the man who slaughtered those who came to kill and rape. None of the villagers fled, all stood transfixed as they saw him wreak havoc among the Ironborn. They all joined Gar in his song.

"With sword and shield and spear and bow,

he guards the little children."

They repeated the same verse again.

"The Warrior stands before the foe,

protecting us where e'er we go.

With sword and shield and spear and bow,

he guards the little children."

Their savior upon the brown destrier fought relentlessly. His long sword reaped every life who stood opposing his might. The last five were left, and the people of the village changed the verse as one.

"The Seven Gods who made us all,

are listening if we should call.

So close your eyes, you shall not fall,

they see you, little children.

Just close your eyes, you shall not fall,

they see you, little children."

Never had the Septon felt as fulfilled and right in his belief. They had lost not a single man, woman, or child among their villagers. His prayers had been answered. 'I have not lived in vain.'

The Septon raised his arms into the air as he proclaimed. "The Seven have answered our prayer! They sent us the Warrior-made-flesh. A Champion to save their Children from the grasp of the Drowned God! Behold my brothers and sisters. The might of the Seven as One!"

The villagers cheered until their screams had turned hoarse.

"Let us donate this moon's harvest to the sept in their honor!" He shouted. The villagers cheered again, but this time, their tone was not as joyous, but Septon Gar did not care. It was the right thing for them to do.

Laughter rang out from their savior, and their cheers quietened down. The Septon frowned slightly, as he did not see the humor in the current situation.

A powerful voice washed out through the village as the hooded man tilted his head enough for the people to see the slightly purple shine from where his eyes should be.

"The Seven as One… False Gods." Concerted murmuring broke out, and the Septon could feel his ire grow, he wanted to interrupt but the man continued.

"The Septon wants you to donate the food you worked for to a Sept. Why?" Gar could see the common folk nodding, and his ire grew with their motions. 'Why is he insulting the Seven? He just rode in like the Warrior reborn. What is the meaning of this?!'

"No. The New Gods are new for a reason. A Human-made faith to control you. Limit you. You have just sung of the Warrior, a false song of a false God."

"What do you believe in?" shouted the young boy, Brynden, with lights shining in his naïve eyes.

"Many Gods exist, my young friend. Yet only the Old Gods, Mother Rhoyne, and the Valyrian Gods do not demand tribute. Only faith." He turned around towards the dead Ironborn and bowed slightly as words Gar had never heard of left the mouth of the warrior before them.

An impossible scene happened in front of them, and the villagers dropped to their knees as a majestic Weirwood grew from the ground and the dead Ironborn, pulsing with energy that seemed to revitalize every single villager. Their eyes were filled with reverence and awe as they looked upon the imposing tree. A feeling of divinity he had never felt in his life surged through him. 'Have I been wrong?'

The warrior turned towards the villagers and the young boy asked again. "What is your name, My Lord?"

He rode out of the village, seemingly without answering until a voice sounded out as if he stood right beside them. "Aegon Targaryen."

Incredulous expressions were everywhere as the villagers fell to their knees in the direction of the rider.

The same name would be mentioned in whispers and prayers throughout the Riverlands and Westerlands, as the smallfolk sang his praises and thanked the Old Gods for his protection. Everywhere he went, Weirwood Trees and Flaming Figures would sprout as the Ironborn died to his wrath.

Songs and praises that send the Usurper in a mad rage that none would ever forget.

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Siege of Pyke, Iron Islands - 289 AC

POV | Aegon Targaryen

After he had left Bear Island, he made a quick return to Winterfell to apologize for his idiotic behavior. He had explained himself and had thankfully been forgiven. He had left for the Wall shortly after, or that was what he had told the others.

He had tasked Hel, Freya, Freke, and Gere with returning to the Wall with a message to grandpa before he had saddled Fenris in the dark of night and started riding at full speed towards the coasts of the Riverlands and the Westerlands. He had killed at least another 150-200 Ironborn and raised smaller versions of the Bear Island Weirwood and fiery figures of fertility, shaped as the avatars of the Valyrian Gods. The only two faiths he wanted in his future Kingdom.

He had thought a bit about the use of his actual name, and the possible repercussions of such an act. The only thing that could possibly track him back towards the North would be the Weirwoods. His mentioning of Mother Rhoyne and the false belief in Aegon being Elia's son were the shields he had decided to utilize here. 'Oh, it will be the talk of Westeros in the next many years. It's good that Jon Snow of Winterfell went on a ranging for several moons with his Uncle Benjen.'

He had been raiding the different Islands as most of their men were manning Pyke for a last stand. Ser Barristan had already fucked up Old Wyk after the most epic fight he had ever borne witness to. Andrik the Unsmiling, a huge and fierce axe wielder had met him in the middle of the battlefield and their deadly dance had put a stop to all the fighting.

It was almost as if the men had collectively decided that the battle would be decided by the victor of the duel. A fight that none wished to interfere with nor miss the sight of. Barristan's white mane danced in the wind as his relentless sword chipped into the skin of Andrik. Every slash chipped away at the armor of the man who had slain several Knights with ease.

Aegon memorized every single movement of the two men as he watched a bout that deserved to be memorized in the annals of history. Every feint, every attack, every emotion was etched into the Dragon Prince's soul. 'This is the stage my technique needs to reach. Ser Barristan is so going to be part of my Kingsguard. I mean… Just look at the man! Fuck, I want to look like that when I grow old!'

Ser Barristan won, despite Andrik getting a few decent shots in. The Kingsguard disarmed him masterly and brought the Unsmiling warrior to his knees. A feat that made the rest of the Ironborn drop their weapons at their feet. 'This is the power of respect. Had they feared him, they would have fought to the end, but the respect for the aged Knight was enough for them to drop their weapons after that magnificent showing.'

After the army had subdued them, they left towards Pyke, and Aegon left a day after. He had assassinated Lord Dunstan Drumm and his second son, Donnel Drumm, and taken Red Rain as his own. The Long Sword was 59 inches of perfection, which felt perfectly balanced in his hand, the 12-inch pommel was intimidating, and matched the sword quite well. Now he just needed a Qohorik smith to change its color. He did not need anyone to link the ending of House Drumm to himself. He just needed to kill the last living Drumm, Denys, when he reached Pyke for the Siege.

The magic emitting from the sword was almost as impressive as the magic emitting from Ice. 'The extra coloring might actually have added some extra magic to it.'

With Red Rain secured in his Weapons Pouch, he proceeded to raid their very full treasury. Pirating was a very lucrative business after all. He did not have time to count all of it, but they had more than a rich Northern Noble family with at least 20,000 Gold Dragons, more than five times as many Silver Moons and Stags, two sapphires, one ruby, and a few other less memorable jewels.

'That really shows how crappy the Northern economy is. Queen Alysanne fucked them over by giving the New Gift to the Night's Watch.'

Safe to say, he paid the Iron price and left only coppers, because he honestly could not bother with the innumerable amount of them. Especially since one needed 1470 Copper Stars, 2940 Copper Groats, 5880 Halfgroats, 11760 Pennies, or 23520 Halfpennies for a single freaking Gold Dragon.

'I have enough wealth to comfortably feed at least 150,000 smallfolk for a year. That's actually insane. The wealth gap is unreal.'

Then again, it was a world where one could buy a fresh fruit-filled tart for three pennies each, which would mean a single Gold Dragon could purchase 10.7 tarts a day for a year. Plenty to feed a family of five, especially since bread could be purchased cheaper.

'That really sets 6 million Gold Dragons of debt into perspective. Food for 30 million people for a year. That literally showcases how Robert's shitty reign truly fucked up the economy of Westeros. That's almost the entirety of the population. Considering the number of kids here, he really could have fed Westeros freely for a year… Or fixed the Kingsroad as well as the Sewers of King's Landing.'

He shook his thoughts away as he started concentrating on the task in front of him.

He jumped from stone to stone as he climbed through the ugly castle of the Greyjoys. He wanted to watch the siege properly, and hopefully get a better idea of the strength of the greatest fighters in the Seven Kingdoms. Especially the strength of The Stag King interested him greatly. 'Demon or man. Let's see.'

He perched on top of the castle as he observed the start of the siege. The nearby Botley castle was already destroyed, and so was the town of Lordsport beneath it. The King's forces had decided to siege the castle from the southern wall, which also seemed to be the weakest based on Aegon's observations.

'Ser Alliser's lessons were not in vain. It's a textbook Siege… The Ironborn are fucking dumb though. They did not even prepare oil to burn the siege machines… Balon really deserves to lose.'

Aegon took an arrow and knocked it. It flew fast and true, as that single shot changed canon. The second son of Balon Greyjoy, Maron, died just before he could slay Walder, Hodor's father. 'He's a good man, and Old Nan does not deserve to bury her grandchild.'

His second arrow flew true as well, as it found purchase in Denys Drumm's neck. 'And now the Bone Hand has been broken in perpetuity. I wonder if they will start fighting for Red Rain now… Too bad they'll never see it again.'

As many arrows flew around the battlefield, no one noticed that he was the one who shot the new heir of Pyke nor that he managed to kill the current Lord Drumm.

He leaned back into his position now that Robert's forces had managed to break through due to the chaos he had created. True to history, Thoros of Myr, was the first to truly breakthrough with his sword coated in wildfire.

An action that spurred the rest of Robert's forces into action. The Stag King's voice was loud enough for almost the entire Island to hear him. "KILL THE DAMN SQUIDS!"

"KILL!"

"KILL!"

"KILL!"

The men followed their King as well as The Warden of the North as they stormed the castle. His uncle was a whirlwind of death as he cut through men and armor as if they were made of paper. His Valyrian Steel sword as long as he was tall sang as it was swung with might and finesse. 'When the fuck did he become that good?'

He was mesmerized by his uncle's prowess, until he saw an Ironborn, broken in two, fly several feet through the air. 'Demon of the Trident… Father, how the fuck did you fight that?'

If Eddard Stark was a whirlwind of death… Then Robert was The Storm. Nothing less could describe the destruction he wrought upon his enemies. Even his allies gave him a wide berth as he crushed every single man who dared step within seven feet of him. His war hammer was being swung around with an impossible speed as it crushed the skulls, chests, and spines of every man unlucky enough to meet him in combat.

'He certainly looks like a King. The Stag helmet would seem impractical but combined with his impressive height and the long shaft of his hammer, it's not like anyone is going to get close enough to capitalize on it. It only makes him look more menacing and imposing.'

He had decided that he had seen enough, so he hurried towards the treasury, which should be unprotected now. 'It's not like they can afford for manpower to be stationed there right now.'

His sense of smell was plenty to locate the room within the castle. He was unfortunately severely disappointed by their fortune until he noticed two magical items buried underneath the copper.

"What do we have here…" whispered the Dragon Burglar.

He dug into the Copper Coins until he found the two items. 'Books? High Valyrian and… Ghiscari?' He smiled broadly; books that emitted magic boded well for their actual content.

He stole the Gold, and as he had finally taken almost 15,000 Gold Dragons, he heard Robert, Ned, and several others moving towards The Great Hall of Pyke, where Balon had been chained by a couple of Knights as well as Jorah Mormont.

'Hmm. Let's see if I can create some more chaos.'

_________________________________________________________

A/N: HOUSE DRUMM IS DEEEEAD! RED RAIN, GET!

He also managed to hoard around 35k Gold Dragons from two of richest houses on the Iron Islands. Considering their raiding ways etc. I think it's pretty plausible for them to have that kind of wealth. In canon, that is about the wealth needed to commission 3.5 War Galleys with a capacity of 1000 soldiers each.

Or a sell-sword fleet of approximately 25 war galleys for a month. We're not even talking of a proper group here, just a bunch of pirates basically. Could probably hire The Golden Company for a week or two as well.

It's not terribly much, but it's a pretty good Nest-Egg for now.

Besides, The North and The Iron Islands are the two poorest Kingdoms. Tywin considers 300k a paltry sum, whilst that kind of money can feed around a third of The North or the entire Iron Islands for a year.

Aegon decided to play with the power of rumors of rumors and propaganda. He fought with a standard bow and arrow, a long sword and atop horses instead of beasts. Weirwoods, Magic, etc. was used to divert the attention as well as make Southern Lords question the truth of the rumors. Why? Because sowing discord within the fate, and angering Robert should help destabilize Robert's reign and the Faith's grasp on the small folk.

Besides, having the same name as his supposed brother, is a boon at this point in time. Especially since it will confuse the Lords a lot. Why would Rhaegar's son help the people of the Kingdom's who betrayed his father? :D This will also serve to make his existence more believable when he truly makes his play for power as well as create Goodwill among the small folk. Robert might even take it out on Tywin, since he failed in killing the dragon spawn...

Some might complain about my depiction of Robert... Well, too bad. I think he's a jealous cunt, who honestly did not give a fuck about Ned. He was a pathological liar with a love for violence and being looked upon with awe by the people around him. He was jealous of the life Ned built for himself, and seeing Ned actually expressing his happiness made him act out. His severe drinking did not help him keep a calm mind either.

Anyway, see you later :)