Early 284 Summer
No one expected much of Bear Island, even after my rise began it was hard for anyone not in my orbit to fathom just how powerful my backwater island grew under my rule. Showing up in every major port along the route to King's Landing with forty bronze hulled warships opened a lot of eyes to the rapid powershift on the Sunset Sea. And they still don't understand the powershift even after seeing my fleet.
My hard stance on shelter quality and sanitation along with heavy and generous food and fuel imports has dropped infant and child mortality hard. In normal conditions a smallfolk woman has eight children in her life with the hope that at least two make it to adulthood. When someone dams up the river of child souls heading to the afterlife, and there is a social push to pump those rookie numbers up the resulting population boom is unheard of. The rule of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen doubled the population of Westeros over fifty five years. That's the best growth people can imagine. Rookie numbers.
The scumsucking people living on the Blackwater delta got a full view of my wool sails chewing up the horizon as we pulled up on the capital. We passed by the Red Keep, that sprawling palace and fortress, and along the south wall of the city. With the Royal fleet left in our wake back at Dragonstone, we found easy access to docking space and better yet a royal welcome.
Robert Baratheon's crown weighed him down much less in this timeline, the man still had the respect of his best friend, the confidence of his foster father, the satisfaction of great vengeance, and the girl worth fighting for. All of whom came down to welcome the Bronze Fleet to King's Landing. Ulfric got everyone into position for my arrival, and the city recieved the biggest hero of the rebellion with much fanfare. I looked out over the adoring horde, and found them filthy virtueless savages. At least they screamed loudly when I pointed out over them and shouted , "Hello, King's Landing!"
Why people scream and cheer when someone shouts out a greeting to their hometown is a human interaction that I still don't understand viscerally, but at least understand enough to make use of. A platoon of my men were loaded to shower the masses with copper Stars, a generous coin to dish out, but not so generous to steal any shine from the new king who dispensed silver stags during parades thrown in his own honor. The smallfolk will really scream their approval once the money starts raining down.
"Fuck me, I didn't think you had so many damn ships!" Robert yelled and opened his arms to hug me, then raised his right hand with a fist and roared out to the crowd while displaying our closeness with an arm across my shoulders.
"Lannister gold by way of House Drumm, every dragon spent!" I loudly told him to be heard over the cheers.
I'd become something of a local legend since my trial by combat. It's one thing to hear about what I'd done in the Riverlands, or the Reach, or Dorne, but to have an event like that take place locally? The bards rushed to get songs about me out to the public, people desperate for a hero of justice in these trying times.
My cathartic takedown of Clegaine and Lorch did a lot more than boost my reputation, it also boosted the new dynasty and administration by placing the key figures firmly against the Lannisters, who are currently quite low in popularity around these parts. Robert cemented this by following his passionate heart and choosing Lyanna over Cersei. He still wound up with a vindictive, selfish, and shortsighted bitch, but at least this time he'll be happier about it.
The adulation of the people of King's Landing is my final trap of the rebellion. Jon Arryn and his ilk, men simultaneously terrified and throbbing to take me down, are flies trapped in the amber of the people's approval. A new dynasty doesn't stabilize by destroying the heroes that got it there, and nothing screams hero louder than beating the villain. People may love when heroes fail, but while they are hot they are untouchable, and the still healing wounds left by the Lannisters mean I am red hot.
With my sons and men working the streets for almost half a year, dispensing our no nonsense justice and mind worming propaganda, attempts to spin what happened in the throne room away from me have failed. In many inns, brothels, and playhouses, my impromptu hate speech against the Lannisters has been repeated word for word. Though my life story might read something like the war diary of Attila the Hun, to these people, I am a hero, because everyone else is so much worse.
Our parade took a circuitous route, travelling up the Muddyway from Fishmonger's Square and taking the curving road known as the Hook up Aegon's Hill to the Red Keep. Never missing a chance to host a feast, Robert cracked out the wine and laiden his tables heavy with roasted, baked, grilled, and fried meats. Technically this was just a teaser feast to the coming royal wedding, creating a season of festive spirit leading into the big event while also showing off the wealth and generosity of the new government. Little did they know, I'd already stolen the best wine for myself, and hidden more of it away in the labyrinthian tunnels beneath this keep. I've helped myself twice over maliciously to their generosity.
While my station would see me seated lowly among the guests, my status saw me at the big table with the important folks, not exactly in the circle of Robert, Ned, and Jon Arryn, but close enough that when Robert shouted for me no one needed to send a servant.
"Mormont!" he laughed red in the face and covered in sweat that smelled like a brewery, "You're some kind of castle sacking sorcerer and a warlord of the sea! I've got this little eye sore across the bay, you may have seen on the way in. The Royal Fleet is moored at Dragonstone, and until they are gone, the last of the Targaryens hold out. I need you to work me some magic and smash that fleet, then take that keep."
"I can do it." I told him after a brief period of 'consideration', "but I want to take a little something back home with me when I'm done."
"You storm the castle you get to loot the place, Mormont, I'll not spite a man his due." Robert drunkenly waved away the remaining treasures of the Targayens with little thought.
"I want to take the old Queen as my thrall." I told him and that dropped some jaws at the table.
One might think I'd committed a grave sin, but Robert's wet bellows of laughter that ripped out across the feast, "Did you just - hahaha- did you just say you want to -heee- to take the last dragon queen as your sex slave - hoho?
"How dare you, ser?" I played up the false advertisement, "I'm no slaver, merely old fashioned."
"HOOO FUCK!" Robert pounded the thick table hard enough to make people worried for his hand, and the table, "Old fashioned! What the fuck do they feed you people in the North? The fucking balls!"
I put on my serious Northman face until Robert stopped laughing and asked, "You serious?"
My serious Northman face answered for me but I elaborated for him, "I have been super tame this rebellion, and I would like this chance to unleash the beast of greed."
"Super tame?" Robert shook his head in amusement, but it was the scowl of Jon Arryn that cinched it.
"I know that face!" the king pointed a beefy finger at the new hand, "That's the kill the fun face. Well I'm the king now, Jon. And it's about time people started having some fun in these damn kingdoms!" he swung his arm around to point at me, "Request granted, but the boy isn't yours to take."
"He's your problem after I drop him off." I grinned and went back to my party while the high society type made sure that the news passed down all the way to the scullery maids.
I gave a smile and a wink to the next queen of Westeros on my way to step out for some fresh air, and on that balcony overlooking the sea up above the stink of the city, I smelt the fresh clean air and the storm brewing. Then I reached under my cloak and took hold of the fell axe.
I'd already delivered one queen to be from death on the birthing bed, and now I'd save another. The Three Abominations of Skinchanging: the first abomination is he who eats the flesh of man in the skin of a beast, the second abomination is he who mates with beasts in the skin of a beast, and the third and greatest abomination is he who takes the skin of another man. But those are all rules made by people I exterminate like pests, so why would I care about them? I sent my spirit out across the bay and thrust myself into the body of the maester of Dragonstone.
Come to me, blood of the dragon.
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It's funny, I've been putting out so many 2500+ word chapters lately that I feel this one is short despite this story mostly starting out with 1500 word entries. Anyway, take this shorty as my Christmas gift to you all.
Once again, thank you to 4REEESEARCH for supporting me and my family. You too can support us at
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