The cold morning air was crisp as Winterfell began to stir. Servants moved through the halls preparing for the day, while the royal retinue readied themselves for departure. Inside the Great Hall, Robert Baratheon sat at the high table nursing a tankard of ale. Across from him sat Eddard Stark, his brow furrowed with the weight of the King's request.
"You're still brooding, Ned," Robert said, breaking the silence. "I thought you'd made up your mind."
"I need time to consider, Robert," Ned replied, his tone steady. "This is not a decision to make lightly."
Robert groaned. "Seven Hells, Ned! You're my friend, my brother in all but name. Who else can I trust with this?"
"I understand your need, but my duty is here," Ned said. "Winterfell needs its lord. My children need their father."
Robert slammed his tankard onto the table, making the contents slosh over the sides. "Your children will be fine. You've raised them well. And Winterfell will stand, as it always has. The realm needs you more."
Before Ned could respond, Catelyn entered the hall, her expression composed but concerned. "Eddard," she said, her voice soft, "we need to speak."
In the privacy of their chambers, Catelyn handed Ned a small, sealed letter. The wax bore the sigil of House Arryn.
"It arrived this morning," she said. "From Lysa."
Ned broke the seal and read the letter, his expression darkening with every line. When he finished, he looked up at his wife.
"She claims Jon Arryn was murdered," he said, his voice low. "And that the Lannisters are behind it."
Catelyn nodded. "She says we must be careful. That the Lannisters cannot be trusted."
Ned's jaw tightened. "If this is true…" He trailed off, the implications sinking in.
"What will you do?" Catelyn asked.
Ned hesitated, then sighed. "I don't know. But if Jon was murdered, Robert must know the truth."
By midday, the royal procession was preparing to leave Winterfell. Soldiers mounted their horses, and servants loaded supplies onto wagons. Queen Cersei sat in her carriage, her gaze distant as she ignored the bustle around her.
King Robert stood in the courtyard with Ned, waiting for the final preparations to be made.
"Well?" Robert asked, his tone impatient.
Ned looked at him, his decision clear. "I will come with you, Robert."
Robert grinned, slapping Ned on the back. "I knew you wouldn't let me down, old friend."
As they spoke, the Stark children gathered to say their goodbyes. Robb stood stoically beside his father, while Sansa was happy because she wanted to be a queen, and now she is visiting King's Landing with them, on other hand Arya wasn't too happy about going to King's Landing.
And Bran was lying crippled in one of the castle rooms after Jamie pushed him from tower, when he accidentally came across their incestous act of Brother and sister.
As the royal party set off, the gates of Winterfell creaked open, and the procession began its journey south. He with his other 2 daughters.
On the other side of Narrow sea
The Great Hall of Pentos was alight with the soft glow of torches and the hum of anticipation. Representatives from the Free Cities of Braavos, Volantis, and Astapor had arrived in Pentos, their intentions wrapped in flowery words and false smiles.
Alex sat at the head of the long table, flanked by Daenerys and Manuul. Behind him stood his trusted generals, Leon and Victor, their expressions unreadable but their hands never far from their weapons. Ancalagon was nowhere to be seen, but his mere existence loomed large in the minds of the delegates, a shadow that never left their thoughts.
The leader of the Braavosi delegation, a thin man with sharp features and an air of arrogance, spoke first. "Lord Alex," he began, his voice smooth but insincere, But Another voice far sharper and colder came from behind Alex,
"It's Your Majesty for you, please show respect to our King, as we are showing you by letting you come here for peace talks" said Leon.
Scared from his strong demeanor and in enemy territory He had to lower himself and kneeled, "Forgive me, it was a mistake from my part, Your Majesty".
"we have come not as enemies but as men of reason. The recent events have left ripples across Essos, and we are here to ensure that peace prevails. Because of the recent events, the balance in essos is on verge of tilting".
Alex leaned back in his chair, his face calm but his eyes piercing. "Peace," he echoed, as if tasting the word. "An admirable goal, though one wonders why it is only now that you seek it."
The Volantene representative, a stout man with a thick beard, chuckled nervously. "War benefits no one, Your Majesty. The Free Cities have seen enough bloodshed over the centuries. Your... rise to power has been swift and, I must admit, impressive. But surely you see the wisdom in consolidating what you have rather than pursuing more conflict?"
Daenerys spoke up, her voice like steel wrapped in silk. "You speak of peace, yet your actions tell a different story. Reports of your cities arming themselves, and hiring mercenaries have not escaped our notice."
The Astapori delegate, a gaunt man with sunken eyes, shifted uncomfortably. "Merely defensive measures, Your Grace. Surely you understand the need to protect one's people."
Alex smiled faintly, a predator's smile that made the delegates squirm. "Defensive measures, you say? Perhaps. Or perhaps you seek to buy time, hoping I will grow complacent while you strengthen your alliances and prepare for war."
The Braavosi delegate raised his hands in mock surrender. "You wound us, my lord! We come here in good faith, hoping to forge a lasting peace. If assurances are what you need, we are willing to discuss terms."
Alex studied the delegates, his mind working swiftly. Their words were honeyed, but the desperation in their eyes betrayed them. They feared him, feared the weapons his forces wielded, feared the dragons that had grown larger with each passing day.
"I will consider your offer," Alex said finally, his tone measured. "But peace is not built on words alone. If you are sincere, you will make gestures to prove it."
The Volantene representative furrowed his brow. "What kind of gestures?"
Alex leaned forward, his gaze hardening. "Braavos, Volantis, mareem, Astapor and other small cities around them that they control must Ban slavery. Free all the slaves, We will introduce a diplomatic system to each and all the cities that follows us. Where common people will have the right to change the government if they deem it unreliable. All cities that I just mentioned must be under the dominion of My Rule. If you Agree to these terms, I will Send my soldiers and engineers for the development of that territory."
The hall fell silent. The demands were bold, almost impossible for the Free Cities to meet without dismantling their own economies and power structures.
The Braavosi delegate recovered first, his voice carefully neutral. "Your terms are... ambitious, King Alex. We will need time to confer with our respective rulers."
Alex nodded. "You have two weeks. At the end of that time, I will expect a formal response. If you fail to meet these conditions, I will take it as a declaration of WAR".
After the delegates were escorted out, Alex and Daenerys retired to the war room with their generals.
"They'll never agree to your terms," Victor said bluntly.
"I know," Alex replied, his tone calm. "That's the point. Their refusal will give us justification to move against them when the time comes. In the meantime, they'll waste resources trying to placate us."
Leon nodded. "And if they're foolish enough to try anything, we'll be ready."
Daenerys watched Alex with a mixture of admiration and concern. "This game you're playing is dangerous, Alex. They may be cowards, but cornered animals are often the most unpredictable."
Alex placed a reassuring hand on hers. "That's why we'll stay one step ahead. They think they're buying time, but in reality, they're giving us the opportunity to strengthen our position. 2 weeks are enough for us to attack".
In Braavos, Volantis, and Astapor, the delegates returned with Alex's demands. Their rulers listened with disbelief and fury, their pride wounded by the audacity of the young conqueror.
"This Alex of Pentos must be dealt with," the Sealord of Braavos declared. "He cannot be allowed to dictate terms to us."
The Triarchs of Volantis were equally incensed. "We'll gather every coin, every sword, and every ship if we must. He will regret challenging the might of Volantis."
But in their hearts, they knew the path forward was fraught with danger. Alex's rise had been meteoric, his forces unstoppable. If they miscalculated, it could mean the end of their power and their cities.