Chapter 5

I had barely noticed it at first, Winterfell really should have been my eye opener, but by the looks of things, when the Westerosi built something, they made sure it was bloody big. As the Red Keep glistened a bloody crimson in the afternoon light, I wondered to myself exactly how a people with seemingly no indoor plumbing were able to build something as ridiculously large as that complex looking castle.

In my youth, I had seen my fair share of castles dotting the British countryside, from the smallest forts to the largest and grandest of castles.

Therefore, with much honesty, I could safely say that the biggest had nothing on some of the castles that I have seen and if what I've heard about Harrenhal is to be true, then clearly the Westerosi architects and builders had something over their real-life medieval architects and builders.

I was wholly ignoring the fact that Planetos was a completely and utterly fictional environment and thus trying to compare it to Earth was an exercise in futility. See, the problem is, this fictional environment had now become my reality and there was really nothing that I could do about that other than accept it.

That, and the fact that for the sake of my own sanity, I supposed I needed to compare some of the shit that I saw to the shit back home both in my everyday life and the things that I learned in History class.

I wouldn't say that I was an expert on the Middle Ages that Westeros was based on, but I'm pretty sure half the shit that happens in Westeros wouldn't have flied in the Middle Ages back on Earth, but then again, that was me comparing the real world with a fictional world that pretty much cranked shit up to eleven, if not that, ten and a half at the very least.

In other words, I think I had already said this before, but I really shouldn't try and compare Westeros to Middle Ages Western Europe. It wouldn't do much for me...I think.

The Red Keep was the first noticeable thing anyone would see when they began to make their approach to King's Landing from sea. Standing atop Aegon's High Hill, it was the most noticeable building from a distance away and I suppose it would go for the same as well when approached from land.

The Red Keep was very...distinctive looking.

King's Landing was a sprawling city and according to many netizens and commentators of the books, a wholly implausible city for a world supposedly based on the Middle Ages in terms of size.

Beside me, Benjen Stark appraised the city in the distance, "That's King's Landing? Now that I can make a comparison, White Harbour seems to be nothing more than a fairly large town in comparison. How many souls can it hold within it's walls?"

"Five hundred thousand or thereabouts. It's mostly estimation though, I don't think a proper census has ever been taken for some years or decades." I suppose that was something I was going to have to get done as well. So many things to do and so little time to do it in as well.

Just like the old saying went, there was no rest for the wicked...even though I didn't think of myself as particularly wicked. Yes, I could be a dick sometimes, but not all that many times. I was awfully delightful the rest of the time.

Benjen allowed a whistle to escape his lips as the city loomed closer and closer as we neared it, "Half a million souls? White Harbour can only boast half a hundred thousand." He barked out a laugh at that observation, "Still though, Uncle Rodrik tells us that the Free Cities of the East are even larger than any city in Westeros, some even holding more than a million souls within their walls."

"I've heard of that." I said with a nod of the head. Again, the internet was rife with people that looked at these figures calling all sorts of bullshit, but then again, the Free Cities were socially and culturally advanced than Westeros as a whole.

What with them being in comparison to Renaissance Era Italy. More than likely, they had a firmer grasp of their shit over the narrow sea, that and controlled city planning and growth. And plumping. They probably had plumping as well.

I had come to learn rather quickly that I did not appreciate shitting in what was essentially a bucket and peeing in a pot.

Great, another thing to add to the list, en-suite bathrooms. How should I say this? It is beyond awkward hearing your wife pee into a pot. Especially if you have only come to know her for a little over a month.

Benjen continued telling me about the Free Cities, "And that's only the Nine Free Cities themselves. They have their own vassal cities themselves that could put any of Westeros own cities to shame."

Probably true, wouldn't know, "I have to say, you seem well eager to talk about the east. Are you sure you are a proper Westerosi?" From my understanding, the general attitude of Essos when it came to the Westerosi or perhaps nobles was nothing more among the lines of 'Look at those barbarians with their barbaric and dishonourable ways! None of them can hold a candle to proper civilised people like us Westerosi.'

The Stark let out a bark of laughter at the line of questioning. His laughter quietened down for a moment before he spoke, "I'm the second son of a second son. Before you came along, I would have more than likely spent the rest of my life in Winterfell, probably get a wife from one of our bannerman. Not much of a life if you ask me and perhaps it was because of hearing tales of my uncle's adventures in Essos, but a certain wanderlust was borne inside of me. I want to see the world, Prince Aerys. I shall serve you and my uncle in whatever capacity you require of me, but eventually, our paths shall diverge and I shall go on my own way."

"To the Free Cities then?"

"Perhaps even further."

As we neared King's Landing, the sailors prepared for port and started furling up the sail and tapering of the rhythm of the oars. I left Benjen alone in the forecastle as I made my way below deck, partly because I wanted to escape from the stench that was soon going to assault my nose before I had even arrived in the city proper.

The other reason was to check up on my wife, because like Tywin, she did not take well to the sea. Wanting to put on the image of the dutiful and caring husband, I wanted to make it seem like I, at the very least, cared about her wellbeing, which I actually did. Branda was good fun.

That, and because it was basic manners to with well the health of another person.

Making my below, I ran into Steffon being accompanied by my goodfather Rodrik. Steffon having been with me for quite a number of years merely gave a slight inclination of the head instead of a bow at my presence. I returned the nod.

Rodrik gave a more formal bow, bending his upper body slightly.

I looked at him strangely when he straightened, "What was that?"

The older man corked an eyebrow, "What was, what?"

"That." I said, pointing and waving a finger at him, "The bowing. You haven't bowed to me even once. Not even when we met."

"I bowed to your uncle."

I sighed, "You and I both know that's not the same thing." Duncan Targaryen was princely and regal. I was princely and regal, well, I thought I was. Hopefully, I am princely and regal, other wise I was going to have a hell of a time in the future trying to convince people to follow me.

From the books, the people around here had this thing that if you looked like something, then clearly you were worthy to be followed or derided. Thankfully, I happened to have been born beautiful and that was bloody fantastic since the trope beauty equals goodness was firmly in place.

Steffon stood at the side, a slightly amused smirk across his face. Rodrik had a lopsided grin on his face before he spoke, "Acting all familiar with you can be excused because I'm your goodfather, but I doubt acting like that to the rest of your family would be looked upon so...kindly. You southrons and your etiquettes and manners. Why you bother with that farce, I'll never know."

Steffon harrumphed, showing that despite his impressive height, he was still nothing, if not a child, "I will have you know Lord Rodrik, in the stormlands, we also don't bother with that nonsense. It's everybody else that does."

"Haven't met many stormlanders, Lord Steffon. I shall reserve judgement against them when I do." The older lord said before peering at me, "Going to see how Branda fairs?"

I nodded, "Aye, as my wife, her health is of my concern as is it yours as her father."

He waved me off, "I don't think I've ever heard of a man or a woman die of a little seasickness. She'll be fine. She's tougher than this. This is her first time on a ship, so I can't say I'm all that surprised. I was the same as well when I sailed east for the first time."

I'm sure there was a simple solution to motion sickness such as this, but for the love of me, I couldn't remember what exactly. Nonetheless, I persevered, "Still though, I would like to see how she fairs. Perhaps my presence might very well drive away her sickness of the sea." I finished with the best charming smile that I could muster.

It must not have been charming enough as my goodfather laughed straight up in my face, "My daughter is made of sterner stuff than that. She won't fall for such things as pretty smile and pretty faces." He shook his head some more in mirth as he looked at me, "And anyway, one does not heal from an ailment like that. It doesn't work like that."

I smiled in a placable manner, "One can try, can they not?" My eyes drifted over to Steffon, "Tywin?" I didn't need to put anymore detail into my question for Steffon to be able to understand what I was asking for.

My cousin merely shrugged his shoulders, "Just like before, doesn't do well with the sea." He frowned, "If you were planning to go see him, don't bother. He doesn't want to be seen in such a state. A 'weakness' he calls it. Him and his damnable pride."

I had to stop myself from smiling or something but I'm sure they noticed the slight twitching of my lips, "Tywin wouldn't be Tywin without that pride of his."

At that moment, Rodrik let out a scoff, "What pride exactly are you talking about? His father is a laughing stock. I hear his bannermen do as they will without fear of reprisal or action from him."

Me and Steffon shared an uneasy look between us. More of an action that had been ingrained in the both of us, well before I had come along and taken over Aerys. Steffon seemed to take it a step further by looking around, as if in search of something, "Don't let him hear you say that, or speak of the Lannisters or the westerlands in his presence." He near hissed, "It's a very...sensitive subject to our friend."

"Steffon cannot be understating the subject anymore than he is trying right now." I added in deadpan. I was quiet for a moment, "Also, don't make japes at his cost or laugh at him. Laugh with him, but not at him. Believe me, Tywin knows on how to hold onto a grudge and one way or another, a Lannister pays his debts."

The mirthful look my goodfather always seemed to have on his face disappeared for a moment as he looked me, grey eyes studying me intensely, "You fear him?"

Oh, what a question to ask. A king couldn't rightly fear one of his vassals. The king was supposed to be the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms. If he feared someone, especially one of his bannermen, that would imply that bannermen was more powerful than him or held something over him.

I could be cautious as fuck, but never fearful, "No." I replied firmly with a shake of the head, "I've been his friend for long enough to know that some subjects or actions unnecessary ruin a previously enjoyable mood. That's why I said the things I said. As far as I'm concerned, a happy Tywin is the far better to alternative to an angry one. Less fuckery I have to deal with."

Rodrik blinked for a moment before slowly nodding his head. And like that, our conversation came to an end. We parted ways and continued on our way, those two going onto the top deck and me visiting my lovely wife.

I found Brandon standing guard outside his cousins door. I raised an eyebrow, "Never seen a Stark stand guard before."

The older twin of Benjen had noted my approach the moment I had entered the small corridor that led to Branda's quarters. He inclined his head and upper body in a polite bow when I stopped a few short ways ahead of him, "It was something to do. I find myself at a loss of activities to do upon a ship." He told me as he straightened himself up.

"And what do you exactly do, when not upon a ship?"

Brandon just looked at me with those grey eyes of his. Truth be told, they were rather unnerving, especially given the fact that I don't think I have ever heard of Brandon speaking with any other kind of tone other than softly. Really, he took the Stark stoicism seemingly to a whole new level of ballgame.

He eventually replied after a few short moments of would be deafening quiet if it wasn't for the rocking and crashing of waves and the muffled sounds of seagulls letting loose their cries in the sky, "Read. Practice my swordplay. Anything to pass the time."

I raised an eyebrow, "You read? Most of the lords I know find reading to be the task of maesters."

"An able mind is just as deadly as an able sword hand."

I laughed and nodded my head in agreement, "I like that. There should be more men like you in the world."

Brandon shrugged, "Truth be told, I was never inclined to read, my prince. I broke my hand once in the training yard. The Starks have one of the largest libraries in all of the Seven Kingdoms. I supposed I might as well see what it held."

"And you found yourself hooked?"

He raised an eyebrow at my euphemism and I thought I would have to explain it to him, but he seemed to work it out himself and he gave a single nod of the head, "Books contain much and much more. Although I do find some of the discrepancies in the history of the Seven Kingdoms to be somewhat annoying. Nothing can be done about that in truth, I suppose."

The door he stood guard over creeped open and from the opening peeked through the dishevelled and pale looking features of my wife, "Do you plan on speaking outside my door for all eternity? I thought you were hear to see me instead of spending your time with my beloved cousin."

Brandon stood aside, "Apologies Branda."

She looked at her cousin with a pointed look, "You know what your problem is, Bran?"

Oh, his nickname was Bran? Why was I not surprised in the slightest?

"No, but I suppose you are about to tell me. Again."

Branda nodded, "Yes, exactly what I'm going to do. I'm surprised it has not stuck inside that supposedly studious head of yours."

"I like to keep the irrelevant things out."

My wife sighed, "Gods help me with you Bran..." She turned her attention to me and brought attention to her current state, "This? This is your fault. If you hadn't come merrily whistling to the north, I wouldn't have had to get on this damnable boat and be suffering from th-." She stopped for a moment as her face turned green for a moment and a hand shot to her mouth.

Me and Bran took a moment to take a step back. Or two. Just in case.

Nothing happened and Branda returned her attention back to me, a defeated look upon her face, "So tell me, how long must I continue to suffer because of you?"

Because of me? Well, I supposed the blame did sort of lay with me, but truth be told, she would have still gone on a boat one day even if I hadn't come along. Lord Edwyle had been meaning to betroth her to a southern House, so one way or another, she would have been finding herself getting onto a motherfucking boat.

Again, that charming smile of mine that was actually Aerys' in truth came plastered onto my face, "Not long, my good lady. King's Landing is within sight and we shall be making port soon. Within the hour, I think."

She raised an eyebrow, "Really? I'm surprised I'm not smelling it."

I smiled at her, "That would be the sea winds at work. On the docks, the smell of sea and salt is much stronger than the stench of half a million people." Unfortunately, when you went far away enough from the docks, that's when King's Landing hit you with it's full power on your olfactory senses.

Branda groaned, "Brilliant," She muttered as the door into her quarters creaked close, "Just bloody brilliant." I heard her finish as the door shut.

I looked at the door for a moment then looked back to Bran, "I think that went well considering. It was nice having this little talk with your Brandon. Hopefully, we shall get to know each other some more in the future." And with that I was gone.

I wasn't all that surprised to find that the moment we had made port to see that a procession and honour guard was already waiting for us. The usual pleasantries and introductions were made and not long, we were making our way through the city.

Word had somehow spread through the city that I was going to be coming through and that had attracted something of a crowd. I hadn't even bothered to count as we made our way towards the Red Keep, but I smiled and waved all the same.

People cheered and sang out the names of me and my uncle, granted though, the Prince of Dragonflies as he was popularly known among the commons was far more known than little old me, but they cheered my name every second or third time as I rode beside my uncle, who himself smiled and waved.

He even stopped for a moment to bless the child of some random smallfolk woman, "He looks to be a strong lad." The Prince of Dragonflies said as he held the babe within his arms.

I was rather surprised by how the woman reacted. Yes, she had the awed look that royalty seemed to be paying attention to her whilst on the other hand, she seemed to be absolutely mortified for some strange reason, "M'p-prince, the rag would ruin your fine clothing." She stammered.

I nearly fell of my horse at hearing her reply. Let's not forget that a prince was basically holding her babe, but she was more worried about the state of my uncle's clothes? Priorities lady, I wanted to cry out.

My uncle took it in good stride and laughed, "Clothes can be washed. Now, what's his name?"

A flush crept across the woman's face, "Named 'im after me father, I did." My inner Grammar Nazi nearly came out then, even though it wasn't a point of grammar but elocution instead. Heh. Elocution Nazi, "Walter is his name, m'prince."

Uncle Duncan gave one strong nod, "A good and strong name for an equally strong lad." He planted a kiss on the babe's bald head and passed him back to his mother, "Raise him well, my lady. All the work we do, we do for our children."

The Prince of Dragonflies left the woman a near blubbering wreck by the time he got back on his horse and the procession carried on once more towards the Red Keep. I supposed I could now understand why Uncle Duncan was so loved among the people. He had a way with them.

That and the fact that apparently, there was a popular song about him and Jenny. Lucky bastard. He didn't even have to do anything and he already had himself free propaganda without even trying.

I had to think of some way of topping that one way or another.

King's Landing was large and with the crowds and the speed of our procession, it took us the better of at least two hours before we eventually able to make it to the courtyard of the Red Keep. It was then that I noticed that perhaps, the entirety of the royal court had been assembled right in front of me.

Me and Uncle Duncan were at the lead of the procession so we were the first to dismount ourselves from our horses. And for the first time since I arrived in this world, I saw the full breadth of my family. All of it.

Actually, hold on...where the fuck was Rhaella? I wanted to have words with her.

The first person that I noticed was the King Egg himself. Tall, slender and handsome, his eyes looked over me and his son. His hair was of a beaten gold with strands of silver woven together, but to me, well, to the memories of a younger Aerys, there was more silver to the king's hair and more lines of aging around his eyes and mouth.

Kingship it seemed, had not been easy on him.

Standing beside him was my grandmother, Queen Betha Blackwood or Black Betha. She looked as regal as I supposed a queen should have been a regal. Never actually met a queen, so I wouldn't know. Her expression didn't give anything away, but I thought I saw her face warming slightly at me and Duncan's presence.

That was a good sign I hoped.

Then my eyes drifted onto my pale and sickly looking father. I suppose he was handsome enough, but his frailty didn't do him any help. He wasn't as tall as Egg nor Duncan and didn't seem to have the same presence that I could feel from both of those two particular Targaryens.

To be honest, my mother, Princess Shaera had more of an aura or presence I supposed than him. What exactly she saw in him was beyond my comprehension and I had to fight quite the battle to keep my own distaste of their union from showing on my face. I wonder if I was actually ever going to get used to that.

Hopefully, yes.

I really didn't want that distaste to evolve to self-loathing to that would probably result in me throwing myself of the nearest tower to read myself of the feeling. A little dark? Yes. But I always had a talent for thinking dark thoughts when I really wanted to think them.

My aunt and Steffon's mother, Lady Rhaelle Baratheon stood beside her husband, Lord Ormund Baratheon, Hand of the Motherfucking King. Tall and fucking imposing, the man was taller than anyone I had ever seen. I swear the son of a bitch was like seven foot or something.

Queen Betha broke the silence as she stepped forward and embraced, first Duncan then me, in a warm hug, "Right then, where is my good daughter?" She asked looking around.

Branda stepped forward from wherever she had been standing, to stand beside me, "Here, Your Grace." She said with as precise a curtsey as one would get.

Black Betha tutted, "Rise now child. None of that. You are family now." She said as she pretty much pulled Branda to her feet.

Branda herself did rather well to catch her balance and not end up falling unceremoniously to the ground from the awkward position she had been pulled from. A few silent moments passed as Black Betha seemed intent to bore a hole into my wife and in her credit, Branda didn't back down in the slightest.

Eventually, the queen seemed to smirk, "Oh you'll do nicely. Very nicely indeed."

King Egg had made his way towards us by then, having had a small conversation with my uncle that I hadn't paid too much attention to, "Done scaring the young girl now, my lady?" He asked playfully.

My grandmother slid an arm around King Egg's own, "I was not scaring her, husband."

The Prince of Dragonflies agreed with that sentiment with a nod of his head, "If she genuinely wanted to scare my good-niece, we would all know it by now."

Branda was asking me a question with her eyes. A question I couldn't possibly know since I wasn't fucking psychic and that reading facial expressions was never my thing so I simply shrugged.

Lord Ormund had also made his way to the little group and looked around, well above the heads of the people assembled, "I seem to be unable to find my son. Steffon did leave with you on this...adventure of yours now, didn't he?"

I blinked as I turned around to search for my black haired cousin but I couldn't find the little bastard anywhere. I spotted Tywin and raised an eyebrow at him and all I got in response was a dull look that essentially told me that he didn't know.

His wife, the Lady Rhaelle was beside him, a smile on her lips, "Worry not, my lord. Steffon shall show himself soon or later. A man must east and sleep after all."

Lord Ormund's mouth was tight across his face, but he nodded nonetheless as he accepted that.

King Aegon V Targaryen took a moment to look around all the people that were in the procession, thanking the castle guard that had escorted us to the Red Keep before he finally turned his attention to us and smiled, "I suppose we have much and much more to speak off. Come now, let us head inside."

I prepared myself as we began to make our way towards Maegor's Holdfast. Words were going to be said and voices most likely going to be raised.

Perhaps that was the pessimist inside of me, but I'm sure my little venture north had more than likely upset my parents or perhaps more so my mother than anyone else.

I released a quiet sigh, I had supposed it was going to come to this sooner or later.