An RPG of Ice and Fire Chapter 1, an a song of ice and fire fanfic

Hello, one and all. Take this how you will.

Well now… so this is Death.

It's very dull. Formless, endless darkness. That's it. Nothing to do but float senselessly in oblivion for all eternity.

I do not see my sanity lasting much longer under the crushing weight of sheer boredom.

At least I got some perspective on my life. Nothing to do here but go through memories. Man, I was an ungrateful little shit. I feel sorry for my poor family. Hope the sight of my body hadn't been too traumatizing.

Really, we'd all seen it coming. Only a matter of time until I drank myself to death. And now here I was.

[New Game]

Eh? What's this?

As I focused on the floating words, they vanished and were replaced.

Welcome to [An RPG of Ice and Fire]. Please select your character:

What followed was a long list of vaguely familiar names from one of my favorite franchises.

Huh, guess I'd already cracked. Now I'm hallucinating I'm in one of those dumbass, blatant wish fulfillment self-insert fanfictions. I can't help but love them, though. Every nerd's fantasy, life as a video game AND life in a fictional world.

Let's play along. Nothing better to do.

I scroll through the options.

[Eddard Stark]

Nah. Couldn't possibly do him justice.

[Melisandre]

Interesting, but I'm not up for being a gazillion years old, even if it comes with spooky fire god powers and illusional youth.

[Joffrey Baratheon (Waters)]

[Joffrey Baratheon (Legitimate)]

Huh. Two versions of the same character. Throw in possible Alternate Universe to this coma dream second life.

[Daenerys Targaryen]

[Viserys Targaryen]

Ah, my favorite part of the first book. A break from the politics and intrigue for the coming-of-age saga of sweet Dany. I'd always shipped her and Drogo, shame he died even if it was sort of crucial to her character development. And I'd always felt sad for Viserys. Product of incest plus traumatic childhood, no wonder he was bonkers. Didn't excuse him, but still.

Well, why not try and redeem the Beggar King?

I selected Viserys.

Are you [Male] or [Female]?

Seriously? How is that an option? They kept the original names!

Male. Duh.

Select your [S.P.E.C.I.A.L.] stats:

Strength: - 5 +

Perception: - 5 +

Endurance: - 5 +

Charisma: - 5 +

Intelligence: - 5 +

Agility: - 5 +

Luck: - 5 +

Points: 5

[Strength] measures how physically powerful you are, how much you can lift and how hard you can punch.

[Perception] measures how keen your senses are, how much you notice about your environment and how accurate your aim is.

[Endurance] measures toughness, how much health you have and how much damage you take from attacks when they land.

[Charisma] measures likeability, how well you relate to people and them to you, affecting almost all interpersonal interactions.

[Intelligence] measures mental acuity, how fast you learn and solve problems as well as how accurate your memory is.

[Agility] measures ease of movement, how flexible you are and how quick you can run.

[Luck] measures how the universe feels about you, how likely you are to win games of chance and how often random events will occur, whether positive or negative.

During the course of the game, actions you attempt will be checked against your [S.P.E.C.I.A.L.] stats. Whether you succeed, or fail will depend on your stats. Keep in mind that your stats will scale with your level; checks for the same action will decrease the higher your level. Some actions will be impossible even at max stats and level. In these cases, the check shall come back [Success Not Possible].

You begin with 40 points at Level 0. You shall receive 1 [S.P.E.C.I.A.L.] point each level until you reach the level cap of 30. Choose wisely.

Huh. Distinctly Fallout-like UI. Maybe the Powers That Be are Bethesda fans, assuming this is legit and not the product of my own madness.

I immediately max out Endurance. If I really do end up in the savage world of Planetos, I want to be as unkillable as possible. I ponder the rest. I've always been a jack-of-all-trades kind of guy in these games. Then again, that was as the faceless protagonist.

After some consideration, I looked over my selected stats.

Strength: 4

Perception: 4

Endurance: 10

Charisma: 9

Intelligence: 5

Agility: 4

Luck: 4

I'd max out Charisma with my first level. I'd always stuck by Captain Sparrow's view of "why fight when you can negotiate?". Probably best to be able to bend the minds of others when I'm royalty and all. I'd max out Intelligence after, because why NOT be smart as possible? I'd cycle through the rest until they were all 10 after that. Unless of course something happened in-game to make me reconsider.

Confirm your character:

Viserys Targaryen (Male)

Level 0

Strength: 4

Perception: 4

Endurance: 10

Charisma: 9

Intelligence: 5

Agility: 4

Luck: 4

Ready to play? [Y/N]

Here goes nothing.

I distinctly thought 'yes'.

XXXXXXX

There is a REASON the human mind doesn't remember anything before the age of three. The weakness, the soiling, the hunger, the sheer helplessness. Infancy sucks when you're fully cognizant. And breastfeeding from a tit the size of your head is NOT as fun as you would think. I can only thank the gods (and aren't I just spoiled for choice on that front) I spent half the time asleep.

Anyway, yeah, I'm really Viserys Targaryen, Third of his Name, Heir of Dragonstone. And until Rhaegar and Elia have little Aegon, I'm second-in-line to the throne.

So far as I can tell, I'm the only one that can see the game screens or hear the notifications. No Pip-Boy or little black book, just all in my head. Hopefully my habit of staring into 'empty' space doesn't bother anyone. For good measure, I'd found the 'options' in the game menu and made it so I only got alerted for missions and when I leveled up. I didn't need to get bombarded with Stat and Skill checks every time I crawl or build a tower of blocks.

Skills were another facet of the game and were frankly broken. I had 18 in total, each Stat except Luck giving a bonus to three. I'd worked out from the two times I leveled that the amount of Skill points I got was equal to my Intelligence multiplied by the level I turned. I'd done the math, and I'd worked out that I could max out them all so long as I had an Intelligence of at least 4. If I'd maxed out Intelligence from the start, I'd be literally perfect as possible at all 18 by Level 19. I wondered if I'd get anything from extra points afterwards, but there's really no way to guess until I get there. RPGs are kind of arbitrary like that.

In case you were wondering, the skills were:

Bladed Weapons (STR)

Blunt Weapons (STR)

Unarmed (STR)

Ranged Weapons (PER)

Observation (PER)

Survival (PER)

Stamina (END)

Pain Tolerance (END)

Immunity (END)

Speech (CHA)

Barter (CHA)

Animal Training (CHA)

Science (INT)

Magic (INT)

Crafting (INT)

Evasion (AGI)

Sneak (AGI)

Riding (AGI)

Magic had been locked, greyed-out and at zero when I'd first checked the Skill List. Then I'd managed to scrape enough EXP from passing childhood milestones to reach Level 2. And that's when the game introduced me to Perks. I repeat, Fallout vibes with this game thing.

Perks were special powers that expanded or unlocked my potential. Most had conditions to take them, such as a Stat or Skill prerequisite. There were 150 to choose from, but I only got 1 Perk point every two levels. If the cap was really 30, I'd only get my hands on a tenth of them. Unless there were collectibles in the great wide world or special missions that offered them as rewards.

Missions were kind of self-explanatory. When I planned to do something or was offered some task, most of the time it generated a Mission. I'd get a reward, usually precious EXP, for success and a penalty for failure. Luckily, I had yet to take a mission where failure meant death, but I'm sure I would at some point. This was Westeros after all, and unless I threw a major wrench into canon I'd end up in Essos too.

My first Perk practically chose itself. The obsessive-compulsive nerd I'd been before I'd devolved into a terminal drunk wanted to work out a progression chart after hours of deep contemplation on all the options. But the moment I read it, I knew that I had to have it.

[Blood of the Dragon]: The blood and fire magic of Valyria is strong in you. Unlocks Magic Skill, immunity to fire and heat damage, +25 to Animal Training with dragons. Requirement: Valyrian ancestry, [Endurance]: 4, [Intelligence]: 4.

My adult mind gave me a bit of a buffer against the propaganda inherent to my rearing, but some had sunk in. I was Targaryen, descended from Aegon the Conqueror, of the blood of Old Valyria. Like hell I would pass at the chance to be fireproof or an improved chance to bond if/when I hatched a dragon.

Life was good for now. I spent most of my time just having fun, enjoying what I could of being a child. I WAS a completionist though, so as soon as I could walk and talk reliably I started doing every mission I could find. I got quite the reputation for doing helpful tasks around the castle and faithfully attending lessons with the Maester or Septa.

My new family took some getting used to. My new dad was as crazy as the books made him out to be, though it wasn't quite unmanageable at this point. Mother was a sweet woman, but she always carried herself with stiffness, as if hiding pain or injury. Rhaegar was a wonderful big brother, always making time for me and singing me songs. When he married Elia (the first time I'd been allowed to be seen outside the Red Keep), she became the big sister I never had.

It was a very long, very pleasant tutorial.

And then the Tournament at Harrenhal happened.

XXXXXXX

I held and rocked baby Daenerys, my sweet little sister. We were in Braavos, in the big house with the red door and the lemon tree Daenerys had missed so much in the series. My heart ached when I thought about how she'd miss it in this life as well. I'd gotten emotionally invested in her when she was just a character in a story. When she was my blood sibling, precious and vulnerable in my arms, I was ready to die for her.

I hadn't had any real plans to try and stop Robert's Rebellion. I was only six when it started, not much I could do. I forced myself to watch when Aerys, my 'father', had Brandon and Rickard Stark murdered. I could almost get behind a cause that wanted that man off the Iron Throne. But it pained me that it was all because my beloved big brother jumped the gun. He couldn't have divorced Elia or officially petitioned the Starks to take Lyanna as a second wife. No, he had to run off and elope with the love of his life, and the Realm paid the price.

I hadn't missed King's Landing, during our time at Dragonstone. The city stank like an open sewer, whereas the Targaryen seat of power always smelled like the ocean. I'd done what daily quests were available, training in the yard with the men and helping my pregnant mother. I hadn't got to say goodbye to her. By the time I came back into the room the night of the storm, she'd already bled out. I was left an orphan, all alone in the world but for a squalling baby girl and a handful of loyal guards and servants.

And now we were here, on a different continent entirely, in exile for our own survival. Ser Willem Darry hadn't taken ill yet, faithfully continuing to do his duty as a Kingsguard. Thinking of him, I got up and handed Dany over to her wet nurse. I tracked down Ser Willem and asked for our daily lesson.

"As you wish, my Prince," he said. I was only 9, and not that skilled at swordplay. But I had time to learn, and he clearly believed that a man should know how to defend himself.

Not that I could really get better by training. My talent for swords or really all Bladed Weapons was dependent on a number value. But I could get used to waving one around and try to hammer into my mind the rules of combat and battle strategy.

Mission Alert!

Knightly Training

Train under Ser Willem Darry at the art of swordplay.

Optional: Take five or fewer 'fatal' blows.

Success: 50 EXP

Optional: 10 EXP, +5 Reputation with [Willem Darry].

Failure: N/A

Accept? [Y/N]

I gave a mental nod.

Time Remaining: 60:00

Blows taken: 0/5

Time Remaining: 59:59

Not for nothing was Ser Willem sworn into the monarch's bodyguard. He played with me, for the most part. I managed to keep from making too many stupid mistakes. I managed to complete the mission AND the extra objective.

I couldn't suppress a smile as the EXP was banked.

Bum-bum-bum-BUM!

Level Up!

Level 6

When I'd made my goodbyes to the Kingsguard, I retreated for my room, asking a passing servant for a bath. I got a smile and a nod. Maxed out Charisma sure helped with getting my way and making friends. Maybe Dany and I wouldn't get robbed if and when Ser Willem died.

I went to my Character screen.

Viserys Targaryen

Level 6 EXP: 0/7000

Health: 300

Magic: 270

S.P.E.C.I.A.L.

Strength: 4 +

Perception: 4 +

Endurance: 10

Charisma: 10

Intelligence: 9 +

Agility: 4 +

Luck: 4 +

Points: 1

Skills

Bladed Weapons: 25

Blunt Weapons: 4

Unarmed: 4

Ranged Weapons: 4

Observation: 4

Survival: 4

Stamina: 20

Pain Tolerance: 10

Immunity: 80

Speech: 9

Barter: 9

Animal Training: 9

Science: 5

Magic: 5

Crafting: 5

Evasion: 4

Sneak: 4

Riding: 4

Points: 54

Perks

[Blood of the Dragon]: The blood and fire magic of Valyria is strong in you. Unlocks Magic Skill, immunity to fire and heat damage, +25 to Animal Training with dragons.

[Sleep is for the Dead]: Most people need to lie down at the end of the day, but not you! You are unique, able to function on only an hour of sleep a week. What WILL you do with all that extra time?

Points: 1

There I was. I'd funneled almost all my Skill points into Immunity. I didn't want to die of smallpox or greyscale or one of any number of diseases in this pre-vaccine world. I'd gone for Stamina at Level 4 for that sweet Perk, which had required a minimum of 20. I'd padded it along with Bladed Weaponry, so I could take part in sparring Missions.

I maxed out Intelligence and could actually feel my mind get clearer and sharper when I did. I stuck 26 in Sneak, so I could start trying to get out of the house at night, see if I could get any missions in the city. I put 8 into Evasion, so I could do something besides block when I fought. The last 20 I funneled into Immunity, rounding it out at 100.

I was surprised to hear a fanfare similar to a Level Up when I maxed Immunity

[Immunity] Mastered!

Choose Mutation:

[Bane of Poisoners]: You have such a stern constitution, even substances designed to kill you from within prove ineffective! Whether breathed in, imbibed, or inflicted by wound, toxins simply do not affect you.

[Healing Aura]: You're so brimming with health, it spills out to others! Those that keep regular contact with you will find themselves not getting sick, no matter what.

I immediately picked Healing Aura. I wanted Daenerys to stay alive too. And I could always start praying to R'hllor and get the whole 'fire cleanses' protection against poison.

For my Perk, I settled for something that would help me in combat until I was properly leveled up and would probably come in handy as a party trick.

[Feet of Stone]: When in combat, your feet are rooted to the ground. No matter your enemy's strength, you will never be knocked down. You can still be cut to ribbons, but at least you won't fall on your back. Requirement: Level 6, [Endurance]: 8, [Agility]: 4.

Oh, that had SO much potential for reality-bending cheating, once I set my mind to it.

I relaxed into the bath. It would be a hard life, for the next few years. Ser Willem would kick the bucket sooner or later, he was positively ancient by this world's standards. Once he did, it would be up to me to keep Dany and myself safe. With my 10 Intelligence, I could remember every line of the books from my previous life. After Braavos, Dany and Viserys had gone to Myr, Tyrosh, Qohor, Volantis, Lys, and finally Pentos. Seven of the Nine Free Cities.

I worried, as a big brother should, about how Daenerys would handle the constant moving, living off the charity of those that respected the name Targaryen. Still… I could only imagine the loot and Missions I'd find until that fateful meeting with Illyrio Mopatis.

XXXXXXX

The years passed. I did my best, raising Dany, teaching her how to take care of herself, how to carry herself as a royal should, how to live rather than just survive. I taught her combat, no reason not to. She was no Arya with a sword, but she proved to have Legolas-like talent with a bow. And people loved her. I could charm and cajole and threaten to get my way, but she could wrap people around her finger within ten minutes of meeting them. I made sure she knew the history of our family, of the legacy we'd made in the Seven Kingdoms, but I also taught her to respect and appreciate other cultures. In the thriving cultural hodgepodge of the Free Cities, she became quite worldly, and came to believe that no matter our differences, beneath it we were all the same.

I was quite proud of how she turned out. And I was convinced that it was only 40% me. She was born to be a Queen, I just tried to cultivate that rather than stifle it, as my counterpart might have in another life.

Today was a special day. It was the day where canon began for our story. The arrangements had been made. Tonight, Magister Illyrio would present Daenerys and I to Khal Drogo. Dany wasn't thrilled about her arranged marriage, but she wasn't terrified either. Her major objection was that she wasn't marrying me, which just made me all kinds of uncomfortable. I'd explained what I knew about the dangers of inbreeding and made it clear that I saw her as a sibling and nothing more. She was mollified, but still ticked that she was essentially being sold for an army. To console her, I pointed out that I'd probably have to sell myself when we took back our homeland, to secure alliances and such.

I mentally had my eye on Margaery Tyrell. Possibly Sansa Stark too, if I could reintroduce bigamy. Unite the North and the South, and two of the prettiest girls in the Seven Kingdoms in my bed.

And that was just for marriage, nudge nudge, wink wink.

Let's just say that hitting puberty when in Lys had left its mark.

At the moment, it was before dawn, and I was inspecting Illyrio's office. I'd known he was in contact with Varys but decided to verify it with more than just book memories. Anything for EXP. I finally found a rudimentary safe hidden behind a painting. Is it cliché if it's in another world? It was only three tumblers, and I had the ears of a bat at this point. I opened it and looked through the contents. Some priceless jewelry, of course, but mostly documents. I sped through them, breaking and memorizing the code in five minutes. Being a genius rocks sometimes. I made my way through records of illicit sales and blackmail to find a series of missives to the Spider. Jackpot. The plan, apparently, was indeed to take back Westeros with a Dothraki horde, aided by Pentoshi ships and what Lords Varys could rally. Illyrio was going to be Master of Coin if it all worked out, explained why he'd be so generous with us.

I put everything back the way I found it and reset the safe. I snuck back to my room and was honestly surprised by the fanfare.

Bum-bum-bum-BUM!

Level Up!

Level 30

Congratulations! You are Max Level!

Huh. I hadn't been keeping track. Guess the 500 EXP from finding the correspondence had been enough to tip me over.

I quickly allocated my points and took a moment to just look at my Character Screen. It would never change again. I was as advanced as I would ever get.

Viserys Targaryen

Health: 1500

Magic: 1500

Level 30 EXP: MAX

S.P.E.C.I.A.L.

Strength: 10

Perception: 10

Endurance: 10

Charisma: 10

Intelligence: 10

Agility: 10

Luck: 10

Skills

Bladed Weapons: 100 [I am Not Left-Handed]

Blunt Weapons: 100 [Bone Breaker]

Unarmed: 100 [Jackie Chan? Jet Li? Amateurs]

Ranged Weapons: 100 [Hawk-eye]

Observation: 100 [Elementary, my Dear Watson]

Survival: [One with the Wild]

Stamina: 100 [You're a Machine!]

Pain Tolerance: 100 [Merely a Flesh Wound]

Immunity: 100 [Healing Aura]

Speech: 100 [Silver Tongue]

Barter: 100 [And your Firstborn Too]

Animal Training: 100 [Beast Whisperer]

Science: 100 [Very Model of a Modern Maester]

Magic: 100 [Second Coming of Merlin]

Crafting: 100 [MacGyver]

Evasion: 100 [Bullet-time]

Sneak: 100 [Shadow Walker]

Riding: 100 [Are you a Centaur?]

Extra Skills

Alchemy: 100 [Philosopher's Stone]

Traps: 100 [Step into my Web]

Tactics: 100 [Xanatos Gambit]

Medicine: 100 [Doctor Frankenstein]

Security: 100 [Impregnable Defense]

Repair: 100 [Just a Spit Shine]

Pickpocket: 100 [The Shirt off your Back]

Disguise: 100 [Are you a Faceless Man?]

Prayer: 100 [Missionary]

Sex: 100 [Magic Touch]

Swimming: 100 [Merpeople Exist]

Comeliness: 100 [Face of an Angel, Body of Sin]

Throwing: 100 [Bulls-eye with the Kitchen Sink]

Parkour: 100 [The World's your Playground]

Perks

[Blood of the Dragon]: The blood and fire magic of Valyria is strong in you. Unlocks Magic Skill, immunity to fire and heat damage, +25 to Animal Training with dragons.

[Skinchanger]: You are a Warg, capable of seeing through the eyes of animals. You have more than one body, if you so choose.

[Dragonbone Skeleton]: You are light as a feather, yet tougher than steel. At least, your bones are. Grants the bone structure of dragons, with all the benefits that come with that.

[Spidey Sense]: Your instincts and danger sense are cranked up to 11. Even if someone launches an arrow at your back, you'll know it's coming. Your reflexes are better than any human could ever hope for.

[Mental Map]: You have an infallible, intuitive sense of direction. You know exactly where you are, where you've been, and where you're going. You even have a good guess where everyone else is, too!

[Pyromancy]: Fire is yours to command. The branches of Fire Magic are unlocked to you.

[Hydromancy]: Water is in you, and you are of Water. The branches of Water Magic are unlocked to you.

[Geomancy]: You are born of the Earth, and to the Earth you will return. The branches of Earth Magic are unlocked to you.

[Aeromancy]: The Wind answers to your beck and call. The branches of Wind Magic are unlocked to you.

[Clairvoyance]: You can sense the imprints left by others on any object or place. You see history as if you had lived it yourself when you put your mind to it. Unlocks Premonitions, Remote Sensing, and Channeling Magic.

[Know Better than to Cross Me]: You are intimidating, no doubt about it. People think twice before planning to go against you or target those you love. Your reputation alone can stop a conflict before it starts.

[Harem Master]: You are a being of infinite love, and those you are with understand this. You can juggle as many relationships as you'd like, and the chances of it blowing up in your face is greatly reduced. But don't get TOO confident, stud, jealousy can and will still happen.

[The Prince that was Promised]: You are the Chosen One. You are prophesized to end the threat of the Others once and for all. Those aware of the Prophecy will gravitate towards you, and White Walkers will instinctively fear you.

I'd fought and clawed to get to this point. I wasn't content to rest on my dubious claim to a foreign throne to get by in the world. I'd made a reputation as a trader of goods, a fearsome sellsword, and a broker of alliances. I'd earned our keep in each of the Free Cities Daenerys and I had lived in, to the delight and profit of our various hosts. I'd built up a network of allies over the years, whom I faithfully kept contact with. I only ever uprooted us when one of Robert's assassins popped up.

I made a point of always having them sent back in pieces.

Extra Skills had appeared once I'd maxed out the original 18, with minimal help from Skill Books. I got the chance to make another skill entirely at the cost of 100 points. I got 2800 total after that point, so I had maxed out 14 skills of my own creation. Yes, Sex and Comeliness were purely self-serving, but I have no regrets.

Most of my perks were geared towards combat or improving on my magical powers. I was a mage, through and through, though I took great care to keep it secret. No need to have the superstitious masses aware of the witch-king in their midst. Only Dany knew, and that's because I couldn't resist amazing her with tricks growing up. I 'found' Valyrian Steel jewelry and weapons with remarkable regularity, which I usually managed to get top coin for. And yes, Harem Master served little practical purpose other than facilitating me being a total man-whore.

Pretty sure there were a couple Targaryen bastards lying around Essos. I'd have to track them down at some point. I wasn't going to be like Robert, any child of mine was a child of mine. To the hells with legitimacy, any blood relative I had deserved the very best.

Daenerys could only shake her head when she heard of my exploits. She (jokingly) pointed out that they called me the 'Dragon in Heat' in the wine sinks. How she heard what was said in wine sinks, naturally, led to her getting grounded for a week. Like hell I'd let my baby sister around those kinds of people.

Of course, I was also planning on marrying said baby sister off to a 30-year-old man. But I comforted myself with the knowledge they'd grow to love each other.

The final Perk was inevitable, really. I was overpowered as fuck, aware of just how much a threat the White Walkers were, and one of three heads of the dragon (the other two being Jon and Dany, I believed). Sure, it basically made me the 'main' protagonist, but this was MY game, damnit.

I grabbed my required hour of sleep. My dreams were just that, dreams. I'd purposely avoided anything like prophetic powers, including picking Missionary rather than Prophet for my Prayer mutation. I'd only invented the Skill in the first place since I'd noticed some of my magic was strengthened by spiritual wellness. I considered myself a free agent, from a divinity point of view. I prayed to the Great Beyond, and any god interested in listening could kick whatever mojo they wanted my way.

My day kicked off with breaking my fast with Illyrio and Daenerys. I grabbed a mid-morning 'snack' from a manservant (yes, my tastes ran both ways), and then had my morning lesson with my sister. She fought with a Valyrian Steel rapier, which I had forged myself and given to her as a 10th nameday present. She'd named it Dragontooth. Daenerys would never win a bout with pure strength; even for a 13-year-old she was petite and would likely forever be. But she had a lunge that could come from a league away and a great head for distraction tactics that opened a chance to strike. She actually beat me with a well-timed handful of sand. I could have blocked, but I let her have the victory.

"Very good, Dany! You fight like Visenya, sweet sister."

"Don't flatter me, Vis. Dark Sister is a broadsword, I couldn't even lift it if I tried," she groused. She was beautiful, and strong, and happy, and everything I'd ever wanted her to be. She was so much like Rhaegar, the brother she'd never had a chance to meet.

"Okay, maybe not as great as her. But you could kill most idiots that pick up a sword, and that's saying something."

"Won't my new husband mind that his wife knows how to fight?" she asked tauntingly.

"It's not the Dothraki way for women to do battle. But Khal Drogo has yet to take a Dothraki wife, despite amble opportunity. I'm willing to bet he'll be as charmed by your unique skill as by your exotic beauty."

She blushed. Damn, why can't I turn off the flirting aura for her? That's just weird. "Do I really have to marry him?" Her voice was resigned, already knowing the answer. We'd had this fight too many times, and I'd always won.

"You know the plan, sweet sister. The Dothraki are the best cavalry in the world, and Drogo has 40,000 screamers at his back. Once you make him the happiest man in the world, we convince him to march on Slaver's Bay. We get an army of Unsullied, whether through coin or treachery, and then we go for the ships. Within a couple years, we will land on the shores of Westeros, and the Iron Throne will soon have a Targaryen upon it once again."

She grinned. It was her favorite story, and one I'd fed her from the cradle. Manipulative, perhaps, but it really was best that one of us take the throne. We could hardly do worse than Robert, Cersei, and Joffrey.

"Can't you just use your… powers?" she said, whispering at the end.

"They'll help, certainly. But not even I can conquer the Seven Kingdoms all by myself, sweet sister. I need an army for the first few victories, at least. Then I should have everyone terrified enough of my magic and my warriors they'll surrender if they have a drop of sense in their heads." I grinned toothily.

She sighed. "Is he at least handsome?"

"He's tall and muscular, I can tell you that. And his braid falls past his hips, because he's never had it cut in a loss. And he's kind, or at least as kind as any Dothraki can be. But handsome? We'll have to see for ourselves."

She got an odd look in her eyes. "Viserys… please don't seduce my husband. I don't care if it's Drogo or someone else, don't take him just because you can."

Why do I suddenly feel like Jolene? "I promise, Daenerys." I paused. "Can I still try and seduce his bloodriders?"

She gave a long-suffering sigh.

I spent an hour with her reviewing her Dothraki; I'd picked up every language I could and made the effort to teach them to Dany as well. We had lunch, and then she was left to get ready. Unlike in canon, her outfit wouldn't be a gift from Illyrio. I wasn't stinking rich, but I could purchase raw materials and then work my figurative and literal magic. She would be wearing a gown of Mithril, which was the name I'd given for Valyrian Steel chainmail. The metal shined like silver but was unbreakable. Beauty mixed with practicality, a battledress for a warrior and a lady both. It should highlight her hair, while amethysts and gold would do for jewelry. She'd wear Mother's tiara, the last of the crown jewels. I hadn't minded selling the rest, but that I kept just for Daenerys.

I'd be wearing traditional Westerosi finery, a black silk tunic and breeches, encrusted with ruby chips in the shape of a three-headed dragon. A Valyrian Steel circlet rested on my head, while a golden belt would hold up Lightbringer, my personal Valyrian Steel blade. A little on the nose, yes, but I'd planned to take the Prince who was Promised Perk since I was 8. Unlike most men, I had pierced ears, and I went for ruby studs set in dragonglass to stay in my color scheme.

I enjoyed a long bath (with two of the girls who brought it in) and dried myself off by setting myself on fire after they left. I got all gussied up, and then set out to find Illyrio.

"Ah, Viserys. You look all a king. When they write the history of your reign, they will surely say it started tonight," the unctuous man said when I'd entered his office.

"Do you need me to go over your accounts? I need something to pass the time. Why do women take so long to get dressed?" I said amicably. The man was a heartless businessman, but he was on my side, so I played nice.

"I fear we men may never understand the answer to that, good prince. And if it pleases you, I would indeed appreciate it. You have such a head for numbers, and such a kind heart to look after me so."

I shrugged. "As people serve their King, a King should serve his people. And as I said, I'm bored."

I went over his ledgers, noting where there had been errors and providing my thoughts on how to maximize profits while minimizing losses. We passed a couple hours, talking business and economics. A shameless sycophant he may be, but Illyrio was clever. He hadn't become a Magister through bribery. Well, not JUST bribery.

Speaking of…

"Tell me, Illyrio," I said as I closed the last book. "Is Varys paying you anything, or are you content with just the promise of future favors?"

He barely blinked. "Pardon me, Viserys? I don't understand what you mean."

"42-17-30," I said. He paled as I spouted the combination to his safe. "I'm not mad, merely curious. Why support us so much on only the word of a Targaryen loyalist?"

He chuckled, masking most of his shock. "In another life, Viserys, you'd have been the most feared thief in Essos. Varys and I are… close. His plan is my plan, and I will see it through to the end."

I blinked. Well, that was an interesting nugget. "Fair enough. And don't worry, you'll be my Master of Coin. Littlefinger will be killed off either way, the man stinks of treachery and corruption. But know this," I said, pulling my sword. It burst into golden flame with just a thought. Illyrio looked in danger of passing out. "Betray me or my sister in any way, and the Great Other will seem a delight once I'm through with you."

"Azor Ahai," he breathed, gaping at me.

"Indeed. I'll take back my throne, but afterwards I march North. I will scour the Army of the Dead with fire, and plunge Lightbringer into the Night King's chest myself." I grinned, sheathed my sword, and sat down again. "So, what's it like to bed a eunuch? I'd always wondered."

We exchanged bawdy words for a little while, and then I left. Best to let him recover from coming face to face with his religion's messiah.

I sat in the entry hall, idly playing with the water from the pool. I resisted the urge to use magic to up the entertainment value. Eldritch Abomination I may be, but I didn't want anyone knowing that yet. Not until the Opportune Moment.

Finally, when the sun was dipping past the horizon, Daenerys came out. Her crown and necklace and bracelets glittered in the waning light, but not as much as her Mithril dress. It flashed and flared like fire, blinding the eye when the light hit it right. It reached to her knees, hugging her hips but flaring out to give her free range of movement, showing off the modest swell of her chest and the toned length of her arms. The purple of the gems could not match up to her eyes, and she carried Dragontooth at her hip on a silver belt with confidence. She moved like a dream and was twice as lovely.

"Daenerys," I greeted. I couldn't help my bittersweet smile, seeing my baby sister looking all grown up. "Any man who sees you will either worship at your feet or flee in terror."

"Viserys, don't be mean." She came over and hugged me without hesitation. My heart warmed the way it only did with her. This, right here, was all I needed to assure myself I was doing things right. I was loved instead of feared.

I pulled back to look at her. "I'm serious though, sweet sister. I may have to defend your virtue to make sure Drogo waits for the wedding."

"He'll hardly want to marry me if you embarrass him by winning against him," she said, rolling her eyes. I couldn't help how my chest puffed up at her utter confidence in me. It was merited, but still.

"No battle will be necessary, Princess Daenerys," Illyrio said, waddling out. "You are a vision of beauty. Drogo will be enchanted by you."

We were carried through the city on a palanquin, which was basically a portable bed. It was fun to lie on pillows and watch the city pass us by. I kept my senses keen for any threats. Butterfly effects could be a bitch, never knew when some assassin would pop up because I'd unknowingly slighted someone powerful.

We were let in to Drogo's nine-towered manse after Illyrio announced us to the Unsullied gate guard.

"Is it just me, or did he have an accent?" Daenerys asked.

"He was born Dothraki, raised around Ghiscari, and spent who knows how long here in Pentos. Of course, he had an accent," I said absently.

"Show-off," she muttered.

We were led into a gathering of the who's-who of Pentos, with a eunuch announcing our presence in High Valyrian. Every Dothraki horselord currently visiting the city, along with the nobility of the Free Cities, whalers from the Port of Ibben, and exiled princes from the Summer Isles. Daenerys was the only woman and by far the youngest, yet she stood unafraid. I'd raised her well.

My eyes went to the only other pale-skinned person in the room. "Ser Jorah Mormont, yes? Our new bodyguard and spy?" I asked Illyrio.

"What?" Daenerys asked, keeping her polite mask in place.

"Oh, sorry Dany, I forgot to tell you. Father's Master of Whisperers is looking out for us from across the Narrow Sea. He's the one who convinced Illyrio to host us, and he sent that knight in the corner to look out for us. He is also to watch us and report our every move, but that goes without saying."

"Please, Prince Viserys, guard your tongue. Secrets only hold power when few know them," cautioned the cheese monger.

"I'm whispering, and I'm confident you and I are the only men here who can read lips. Relax, Illyrio."

"It's true what they say. Kings lack the caution of ordinary men," the Pentoshi grumbled.

"What does Ser Jorah get out of this arrangement?" Daenerys asked.

"He was exiled for selling poachers to a slaver, a desperate move to secure funds to fulfill his greedy wife's tastes. She left him for a Lysene merchant prince, and he's been living in shame ever since. If he swears his sword to us and saves our lives on at least one occasion, we'll of course grant him a royal pardon when we reclaim the Iron Throne," I explained.

"Did the Lord of Light reveal all this to you?" Illyrio asked, a put-out tone to his words mixed with curious awe.

I crooked my mouth. "Would you believe I read it in a book?"

Illyrio only sighed. "There is Khal Drogo. I must go make my submissions. I'll bring him to you, wait here." With that, he took his leave.

"What did you do to that poor man?" my sister demanded in a hiss.

"Illyrio Mopatis is many things, sweet sister, but poor is not one of them." I shrugged. "I showed him how I can set weapons on fire. He's now convinced I'm some legendary warrior destined to rid the world of the White Walkers."

"White Walkers? I thought those were just a story," she said, a hint of fear in her voice as she contemplated that fairytale monsters might just be real.

"The Wall was built for a reason, Dany. Don't worry, I'll deal with them. I know their weaknesses, and I'll have the whole of the Seven Kingdoms behind me to remove the threat they pose. As well as something very special, if Illyrio gets you the bride gift I think he will," I said lowly.

She pouted. "You love to tease me, don't you?"

"I'm your big brother. It's part of the job description."

She turned her eyes to the Dothraki Illyrio was speaking with. "So that's Drogo?"

"Indeed. I told you he was tall."

She looked over the man, who was head and shoulders above everyone else there. Even so, his braid brushed the back of his thighs. "He's really never cut his hair?"

"Dothraki boys grow out their hair from birth. After their first victory, they earn the right to braid it. Every time they suffer a loss, their braid is cut off by their opponent, so the world can know his shame. Dothraki men compare their braids the way other men compare their cocks or women compare breasts."

She blushed. "We don't do that."

"Yes, you do." I said with utter confidence.

Daenerys huffed. "He looks mean."

"He could be putting on a front, so he's not mocked for showing emotion. Or maybe his face is just like that. I'm telling you, I hear he treats women very well."

She sighed. "I know what I have to do, dear brother. And I trust you when you tell me that I'll learn to like it. He's just… not what I pictured."

I tried not to frown. Then I had a brilliant idea. "Ask yourself this, Dany. Would you really want me as your husband? Having to deal with my whoring and bastards? Having to listen to my voice and my crazy ideas every day? Being stuck with me for the rest of your life, with no escape?"

Her already creamy skin turned even more white. "… On second thought, he looks quite handsome. And the girl slaves always told me to marry a man who can ride."

I tried not to laugh at her.

Illyrio walked over to us, Khal Drogo stalking behind him. Most Dothraki had a bow-legged swagger, the consequence of a lifetime in the saddle. Drogo walked with a catlike grace though. "My guests, great Khal, Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen" spoke Illyrio in Dothraki.

"The Andal prince and princess, yes?" Drogo asked, in a deep baritone.

"We are of Valyria, Khal Drogo," I said in his native tongue, surprising him. "Our family conquered the Andals three hundred years ago on the backs of dragons. They united the seven khalasars of the Land of the Andals into one, making all the peoples one herd. Sadly, the dragons died, and our family had the bad habit of mating brother to sister in the name of keeping our blood 'pure', unknowing or uncaring of the risk. Our father was a poor khal and lost all our family had won over the centuries in two years. My sister and I were forced to flee for our lives, lest the Usurper who rose against him have us slaughtered. He had his eye on a woman our brother took to wife, and he is determined to wipe out all his blood in revenge." I grinned wolfishly. "I intend to do the same to him."

He looked at me appraisingly. "How will you do this, Viserys, son of a madman?"

I refused to bristle. "With an army. The greatest army to ever ride. An army that will be remembered long after every rider has died." I shrugged. "It could be your army, if you wish."

I'll admit, I wasn't the best with words. I was mostly counting on my maxed-out Skills to handle the hard work.

"Why would I cross the black salt sea, Prince with no army?" Drogo had a hell of a poker face, I'll give him that.

"To be the first Dothraki to do so. To lead the first khalasar to raid a land that has never seen one before and fight warriors no Dothraki has crossed blades with. To claim the gifts a grateful king will shower upon you." I tilted my head towards Daenerys. "And to make your beautiful khaleesi happy."

Drogo looked at my sister. I resisted the urge to gut him at his blatant leering. I couldn't have it both ways, I needed him to think with his cock on this one. "You intend to gift her to me?"

"No, I will gift myself to you," Daenerys said, with just the right mix of sharp and sweet. Drogo's eyebrows went up, which I could tell was an extreme reaction for him. "I will gift you my body, my mind, and many strong sons and beautiful daughters. In return, you will gift my brother with the throne stolen from our family. And on that day, he will gift you with gold and horses and steel and anything else you want, and I will gift you with my smile."

He took a few seconds to process that. He eyed her belt. "You are a woman, and yet you carry a sword?"

Daenerys smiled, though it would be more accurate to say she barred her teeth. In a lightning-fast move, she drew Dragontooth. She turned to the side, stabbing and slicing at the air, every move as quick and lethal as the lunge of a snake. I heard the men in the room grumble and exclaim over the display. With a flourish that would have sliced a man's neck if he were in range, Daenerys sheathed her blade. She turned to Drogo, her eyes bright and fierce.

"I am not just a woman. I am Daenerys Stormborn, of the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror, the greatest warrior to ever live. I am a dragon made flesh, and so too is my brother and all the Targaryen's that came before us. The magic of Old Valyria runs in our veins, and we are MORE than other men and women." She smiled wide, and her beauty was as sharp as a knife. "The Dothraki believe in the exchange of gifts, equal in value. Tell me Drogo, son of Bharbo, do you believe I am equal to the whole of the Sunset Kingdoms and the Iron Throne?"

It was easy to tell that Drogo was interested. Horsehair trousers aren't very concealing.

"I will send a rider to my khalasar, to tell them to come and prepare for our wedding. I will have you as my wife, dragon princess. And you will see your brother sit on his iron chair." He turned behind him. "Blood of my blood!" He walked away, off to plan for his nuptials.

And with that, the job was done.

"Seven Hells, Dany," I breathed out in Common. "You did all the hard work. I was practicing the speech I was going to use all day."

She bit her lip. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Whatever it was, hold onto it. You were glorious. I didn't even have to use you-know-what to convince him."

"Oh, stop."

"He's right, Daenerys," Illyrio said, eyeing the rest of the courtyard. "Were we not in Drogo's house and he already staked a claim, I have no doubt we'd be swarmed by half the men here begging for your hand."

Speak of the Stranger, Ser Jorah Mormont was walking over.

"Your Grace," he said, bowing to me but focus clearly on Daenerys. "If it please you, I would swear my sword to you. I would be honored to serve the rightful King of Westeros."

"I accept," I said. "Now, if you all don't mind, I think we should leave. We got what we came for, and I can only handle so much of people ogling my baby sister. My betrothed baby sister… I feel so old."

Daenerys shook her head. "I'll say this about you, Vis. Whatever else happens, you will definitely be the oddest man to ever sit the Iron Throne."

"I take that as a compliment."

XXXXXXX

I spent the weeks up until Daenerys and Drogo's wedding working on my bride gifts for her. I basically took over the basement to Illyrio's manse and ordered not to be disturbed. If anyone had any questions about flashes of light, strange sounds, and where my finished products came from, none dared to ask. I was determined to spoil my sweet sister on her big day. I used all my alchemical knowledge, both to spin gold from straw to purchase what I needed (thank you, Rumpelstiltskin for that idea) and to fashion the more exotic metals.

I also sought out and bought three slaves for myself. I made sure that they were old, criminals in the past, and ready to die. Little did they know, they'd help usher in a new era.

The fun part about maxed-out Skills and 10 Intelligence is that I didn't have to research traditional methods. I could set my mind to doing something and reverse engineer the process in a matter of minutes.

In most cultures, even on Planetos, a wedding consisted of a ceremony followed by a celebration. The Dothraki did away with the first and went whole hog on the second. The 'wedding' was a day-long feast, with the honored couple on top of a wooden dais set before the whole khalasar. From dawn to dusk, I sat on a platform a couple levels down from Daenerys and Drogo, eating from the portions they and Drogo's bloodriders didn't take, watching the Dothraki go utterly wild.

It was like having a front-row seat to the biggest orgy in the world.

Women danced around the platform, gyrating to the beat of the drums in a truly mesmerizing fashion. Drogo and the other men on the dais occasionally tossed a medallion into the crowd to watch the dancers fight over it. I was very much reminded of traditional bachelor party from my first life, which I couldn't help but feel was in poor taste with my sister right there next to the groom. Men hovered around the edge of the dancers, eyeing them with lust. They all knew that each dancer wanted to be mounted, but to enter the circle was to risk death if another man challenged you.

It was barely 10 in the morning by my reckoning before the first warrior stepped up. He walked up to a dancer, pulled down the front of his pants, and bent over and fucked one of the dancers in front of the gods and everyone. Like a flock of lemmings assured the waters were safe, others stepped forward. Within ten minutes, the first conflict occurred. Two men approached the same woman, and they both drew their arakhs, the curved swords the Dothraki favored. In short order, one of them was disemboweled and fell to the ground, the victor turning to hump a different woman entirely. Slaves came forward to carry the corpse away.

I kept my eye on Daenerys, hoping she wouldn't be sick. For all her training, she'd never actually killed or seen a man die. The closest she'd come was stabbing a snarling dog that crossed her path, and it had run away with its tail between its legs. I'd warned her to expect this, how a Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths was considered bad luck. The Dothraki were a savage people, living like the animals we were under all our airs of civility, and it was 'kill or be killed'. Any man who died deserved it for being weak, to the Dothraki mind.

Daenerys was firmly keeping her eyes off the live snuff porn, deep in conversation with Drogo. No doubt she was getting him to fall in love with her, she did it without even trying to most men and women she met. Really, I was kind of glad she was getting a giant bodyguard to look after her, though I dared not tell her so. She'd castrate me with Dragontooth if I did.

Beyond the circle of dancers, the thousands upon thousands that followed Drogo were feasting, fucking, and fought like there was no tomorrow. An attitude cultivated probably because for some of them, there wouldn't be. Men yelled and joked around fires, bet on horse races, took part in duels, and flirted with any woman they weren't related to. I noted more than a little homosexual behavior amidst the masses. Well, the Dothraki literally worshipped the horse, and gay stallions and mares were a thing. So, I wouldn't be stoned or anything if I got to my usual antics.

I passed the time by talking to Illyrio and Ser Jorah, but mostly I just watched. I made sure to stay only mildly buzzed, nursing my cup of watered wine. No need to risk addiction in this life too.

The hours passed, and at sunset Drogo broke off his conversation with Daenerys to clap. The whole khalasar went quiet so fast it was spooky. Now that's loyalty.

I went first, and I was confident only Illyrio and his precious cargo would upstage me.

"I present you with three handmaidens, each bearing two gifts for you," I told my newly-married sister. She was resplendent in Lysene silks and met my eye with exasperated affection. She knew I was going to go all out. "Irri, who shall teach you the Dothraki way of riding. She wears Mithril-lined vest and trousers, to protect you while you ride, and carries a dragonhide saddle." I prompted the Dothraki girl to go forward, wearing the shiny riding leathers and carrying the scaled saddle. "Jhiqui, who shall teach you of Dothraki culture and help with your fluency. She wears a dress of white-gold thread, to show all your wealth and splendor, and carries a Valyrian Steel crossbow." Jhiqui, Irri's sister, stepped forward, struggling with the weight of the weapon. "And Doreah, who shall teach you the womanly arts. She wears a shift of silk woven with Valyrian runes, to promote fertility and good sleep, and bears a mirror of Myrish glass." The Lysene pleasure slave walked forward, practically slinking, holding up a looking glass as clear as water.

I'd lucked out that they were all roughly Daenerys's size. Doreah's outfit was cut a bit wide in the bust, but Daenerys would grow into it, one way or another. I was making extra sure I didn't think too hard about the fact I'd be an uncle within a year, lest I murder Drogo in a protective brotherly rage.

I'd made the saddle from a scrap of actual dragonhide I'd won as a Mission reward, magically recreating it from regular cow leather. The crossbow was as light and yet as powerful as I could make it while keeping it a reasonable size for Daenerys. The silks I had enchanted myself, and I left out how they were spider silk rather than silkworm silk. With the weave and magic I'd put in, the seemingly flimsy garb would block all but the sharpest knife. No reason my sister shouldn't be protected even in her pajamas.

My gifts caused the expected stir. Most marveled at the sheer rarity and ergo cost of the materials, while some of the men were making a fuss over me giving my sister a weapon.

"Must you always over-do things?" Dany asked.

"Best of the best and nothing less, that's my motto and you know it."

Ser Jorah gave his gift of the histories and stories from the Seven Kingdoms, to my closet bookworm sister's delight. When Magister Illyrio presented the dragon eggs, her eyes flew to mine in shock. I grinned and shared a secret nod with her. An almost manic gleam of excitement entered her eye before she covered it to give her thanks to Illyrio.

Huh. Maybe she'd gotten a touch of the family madness after all.

Daenerys refused the bloodriders' gifts for tradition's sake; besides, she couldn't really use the arakh, whip, or double-curved bow. Then literal hundreds of Dothraki families from the khalasar came forward, offering what trinkets and baubles they could afford to honor their new khaleesi. Among the gifts was a gown sewn from the skin of mice. I figured it was the same concept as lace, the value was in the amount of time necessary to its construction.

Finally, Drogo came forward with the silver filly. Daenerys's face lit up with joy when she saw it. She hopped into the saddle all on her own, to her new husband's clear amusement and approval. She took the horse for a brief gallop, including the leap over the firepit from canon. I could only smile at seeing her so free and full of joy.

"You have given me the wind," she said to Drogo when she came back, her face flushed and heartbreaking in the dying light of the dusk. His smile was all I needed to be sure he'd treat my sister right. He adored her already.

I sidled up to my sister's side as Drogo was saddling his own red stallion. "I promise not to hatch them until you come back," I whispered to her.

"How did you figure it out? The secret has been lost for centuries."

"The secret was no secret, sweet sister. It was in our House words the whole time." I smiled. "Fire and Blood. Heat to wake them up, and a sacrifice to bring them out. A life for a life. It's obvious, if you know anything about magic."

"Who gets the third?"

I shrugged. "That would be telling. Now go enjoy your wedding night… I can't believe I just said that."

She laughed and followed Drogo as they rode out into the distance, the stars coming out in the indigo sky.

I smiled after them, then turned to the winding down party.

I tracked down Illyrio. "So, what's this about a Red Priest and Priestess looking for me?"

He had received word in the middle of the ceremony of a man and woman at the edge of the khalasar, wanting to speak to "the prince." I'd bid they wait at my tent until nightfall if it was important and come back tomorrow if it wasn't.

"They insist on meeting the prince. They don't ask for you by name, merely repeating those words."

I put it together. The Perk had said people in the know would gravitate towards me. "They're not here for me, they're here for the Prince that was Promised. Illyrio, have you been wagging your tongue?"

"I swear on my life, I have not."

"Then they must have seen it in the flames. R'hllor apparently wants them to meet me." I shrugged. "Well, might as well hear what they have to say."

I took advantage of the growing darkness, wrapping myself in air to bend the light and lift me off the ground. I flew invisibly over the massive, sprawling khalasar to the tent set aside for my use. I could hear two heartbeats inside as I touched down.

And yeah, I can fly. I'm quite possibly the most magical human this world has ever seen. Thank you, Magic Skill.

I walked in, not surprised to see the brazier was lit. A Qartheen man and a Braavosi woman looked up from the flames. Their gazes held reverence and hope, like they were looking at a religious figure or savior.

Which I was, in their minds.

"Let me guess. Servants of the Lord of Light, saw visions in the flames, come to pledge your loyalty?" I said, wanting to skip any conversation. It had been a long day, and I felt like a solid night's sleep for a change.

The man bowed. "It is as you say, Azor Ahai."

"You are truly blessed by R'hllor," the woman all but moaned.

"First rule of working for me, no mentioning the prophecy. If anyone asks, you're trying hard to convert me, so I can spread the word of your Lord to the Seven Kingdoms. Second, I prefer you just call me Viserys, no 'your Grace' or 'my Lord' and definitely no calling me Azor Ahai. Now, what are your names?"

The woman, dressed in a red dress and dripping with rubies, gave a curtsy to the floor. "I am Selenia of Braavos, Viserys. I pledge my life, my magic, and my body to your service."

The man, in robes and with a massive greatsword slung over his back, went down on one knee and bowed. "I am Sezgin, from the Queen of Cities, Qarth. I pledge the same, Viserys Targaryen."

I looked them over, submissive posture and fanatic light in their eyes.

"When you say you pledge your bodies to me…" I said leadingly.

Wordlessly, they both disrobed. I was presented with clean-cut muscles and caramel breasts, a pale pillar and a glistening tunnel.

I could sleep later.