Illusiveone
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242: Redoing my Life, Fire and Blood
🕑 Added 2025-09-04 09:03:32 +0000 UTCThere were a lot of changes in this world, not just in entertainment, which had helped me rise to where I was, but also in history itself. Little ripples made an impact, some for the bad and some for the good.
The first major change I noticed was with JFK. He was assassinated, yes, but not in Dallas. In this world, the fatal shots were fired in Boston during a motorcade near Copley Square. Everything else about it was the same, the same assassin, the same conspiracies that rose from it.
Then came Nixon. He didn’t resign. Watergate wasn’t exposed until the 1990s, long after his presidency had ended, and it wasn’t treated as a big scandal like I remembered. Nixon was regarded as a great president until he died; there was no stain on his presidency. This, of course, shifted the timeline a bit: Reagan won two terms after Nixon, and Bush won two more, until the timeline sort of corrected itself when Bill Clinton won in 1992. The only big change from this was the Cold War ending in 1988; the thaw came earlier, with different accords and faster reforms in Moscow.
Looking further back, there were smaller, fascinating changes. Shakespeare died a year earlier. Charles Darwin’s magnum opus wasn’t called On the Origin of Species but On the Theory of Natural Selection. The Western Roman Empire limped along for an extra fifteen years before finally collapsing. Alexander lived one year longer. There were even recent archaeological discoveries suggesting that the Vikings had reached and built settlements as far as Virginia. So there were differences, but not big enough—I would have preferred 9/11 not happening, but unfortunately it did happen here.
In entertainment, the divergences were big. One of my best friends I made in this world, Scarlett Johansson, was younger. Some actors were older, some younger.
Luckily, the core cast I wanted for Game of Thrones stayed relatively young, though some were older. Emilia Clarke was twenty-two, which was great, because I wouldn’t have cast anyone else as Daenerys. The lineup I had in my head for Game of Thrones was possible here. That was a relief. I didn’t want to find out someone crucial had aged out or was missing entirely.
I stared at the shortlist in front of me names for Jon, Robb, Daenerys, Sansa, Arya. For these key roles, I wanted unknowns—people like Kit, Sophie Turner, and Maisie Williams. Sophie was only thirteen now, which was great; she’d auditioned for the role and was my number one pick, like Emilia. The others were still being searched for. To draw in the general audience, I also needed established veterans in the heavier roles: Ned, Catelyn, Tywin.
Sean Bean was still my Ned. Always had been, always would be. He embodied that noble, doomed quality better than anyone alive. But now he was forty-six, and everyone at Netflix was telling me he was too old. I wasn’t so sure. The lines of age only added gravitas, a weariness that Ned Stark needed.
I really wanted the man as Ned. I clicked on a recent photo of Sean Bean and, honestly, he didn’t even look much older than I remembered him being when he played Ned Stark in my old life.
Fuck that he’s going to be Ned, I thought. The age complaints could go straight to hell. If anything, maybe I could use some CGI to make him look younger… then I remembered Henry Cavill’s infamous CGI lip in Justice League.
Fuck that, I thought.
Charles Dance would be Tywin. There was no changing that. It was the first role I made sure was locked in. I called the man myself.
The characters I really wanted to adjust, though, were Robert Baratheon and Catelyn Stark. While I had enjoyed Mark Addy’s performance in the series, Robert was supposed to be more than a gluttonous king. In the books, he was once a handsome warrior, now broken by indulgence and disillusionment. My first choice for that? Ray Stevenson—a mountain of a man who, with a fat suit, could carry both Robert’s faded grandeur and his tragic decline.
For Cersei, I had dreamed of Charlize Theron, but that was never going to happen too many scheduling conflicts, and she wasn’t interested in television. So I circled back to Lena Headey, who was a fantastic choice. Still, the casting team gave me options like Eva Green and Rebecca Ferguson, and I found myself toying with Rebecca. She had the look for it, I suppose. Maybe… maybe.
For Catelyn, I hadn’t settled on one yet. Like Mark Addy, Michelle Fairley had done a great job, but she felt too old to me; I needed someone younger for an accurate portrayal of Catelyn.
As the casting was ongoing one thing I was sure of doing was firing some people from the Netflix casting team. They had found people I wanted like Emilia and Sophie and I was even impressed with their suggestion of Anya Taylor-Joy for Daenerys. She had the ethereal quality, even though my number one choice remained Emilia Clarke.
But then came the bizarre picks. Clive Owen for Ned which, okay, wasn’t awful; I could see it. But Liam Neeson for Ned? Catherine Zeta-Jones for Catelyn? The list went from bad to worse for some characters especially for Cersei and Catelyn.
I sighed, closing all the windows with casting notes and actor headshots. Next month, Daniel, I told myself.
Next month you’ll deal with that circus. Not now. I shut the laptop, leaned back, and rubbed my temples.
I pulled up what I’d been working on before the Targaryen family tree for Fire & Blood. I needed to make some headway before heading off to check the editing process for Aquaman. The film was deep in post-production, with a trailer needing to be released soon. Its release date was April 2016, about seven months away.
I had high hopes for Aquaman. The win conditions I set were simple: match The Flash’s box office (or get close), win over audiences enough to change Aquaman’s image, and most importantly rehabilitate the character in front of the general audience. For decades, Aquaman had been the butt of every joke, mocked as “the guy who talks to fish.” If this film could change that perception, it was already a victory.
Box-office-wise, I tempered my expectations. After just two weeks, Avengers: Age of Ultron would be released, and that was going to dominate the box office and the conversation. That overlap wasn’t ideal—a scheduling ripple effect caused by adding Batman 3 to the slate.
The schedule now looked like this:
Aquaman — April 2016
Batman 3 — November 2016
Green Lantern — March 2017
Justice League — December 2017
A slower rollout compared to Marvel, sure. But I was fine with that. Phase Two would pick up momentum, with movies like a World’s Finest or Trinity film, and a wider mix of solos and team-ups to carve out something distinct.
I was also glad that Star Wars won't be released in 2017 as there were rumors about that last year but The Force Awakens was slated for release in December 2016.
Okay, enough with the DCU and beginning of the Doom for Star Wars, I thought, as I tried to return my focus to Westeros.
And just as I was about to get into it again, my phone rang. I was sure I’d left it on silent. Glancing at the ID, my eyebrows shot up.
Chris Hemsworth.
When did I get his number? Then I remembered—his agent had sent it to me weeks ago.
I picked up.
“Is this Mr. Adler?” Chris asked.
“It’s me, Chris. And I told you, call me Daniel,” I replied.
Chris laughed. “Right, Daniel. Hope I’m not interrupting. I know you’re a busy man.”
“No, no,” I said. “Is this about the treatments I sent you?”
“Yeah, mate,” he said quickly. “I loved them.”
Relief washed over me. Chris had been vocal about wanting to work with me, even telling Margot when they’d bumped into each other in New Zealand. So I’d decided to make the two movies I’d promised Netflix the ones starring him: Extraction and Bad Times at the El Royale. I’d sent him the treatments—I hadn’t written full scripts yet; I barely had time for that—but I’d fleshed out detailed outlines. Netflix loved them. I just needed Chris on board.
“So,” I said with a grin, “I assume this is you telling me you’re in?”
Chris chuckled. “Yeah, mate. What do you think? I have to be in this.”
“Perfect,” I said. “I actually had you in mind when I wrote Extraction.”
He paused, his voice growing serious. “Tell me this is just going to be a Netflix release? It’d be a shame if these don’t hit theaters.”
“My deal with Netflix includes limited theatrical runs,” I reassured him.
“Alright then. That’s great. But Daniel I really want in. Please don’t give these parts to anyone else.”
“All I want is your full commitment,” I said.
“You’ve got it,” Chris replied firmly. “One hundred percent.”
“Good. I’ll begin talks on the business side. We can go over other details next week.”
“Looking forward to it,” he said, upbeat.
We said our goodbyes, and I hung up relief and excitement coursing through me as the matter of the two Netflix movies was officially settled.
Right now, back to Fire & Blood, I thought, turning my phone to silent this time.
I stared at the blinking cursor on the screen. Where did I leave off?
Sure, I could’ve just rewritten Martin’s original Fire and Blood Aegon’s Conquest, the Dance of the Dragons, the Blackfyre Rebellions, and more mostly intact. Copy and paste from memory, smoothing out the rough edges. But why should I? This was my chance to refine, to worldbuild properly, to sand off the questionable choices Martin left dangling, just like I did in the main series.
The first major change I made was that Valyria wasn’t the endlessly conquering, empire-hungry machine it was in the original lore. In my version, they were isolationists, for centuries distrustful of the world beyond their volcanic lands.
That changed two thousand years before the Conquest, when they turned outward, clashed with the Ghiscari, and began building their empire. I took a lot of inspiration from Rome for most of their lore.
Aegon’s Conquest remained largely the same Westeros needed its unifier. But the family tree that’s where I drew blood and made some big changes from how Martin had written it.
Instead of Alysanne being the daughter of Aegon and Alyssa, I rewrote her as Maegor’s child by his wife and queen, Ceryse. That single change shifted everything. It meant Alysanne grew up as the heir to one of the most despised kings in Targaryen history— the heir of the Cruel.
Her union with Jaehaerys became even more of a forbidden-love story—less the ‘targaryen siblings’ from before to more enemies-to-lovers—a match opposed by many.
That decision also let me seed something bigger: the Velaryon–Hightower rivalry.
In my version, Alyssa Velaryon Jaehaerys’ mother despised Alysanne, loathing the idea that her son would marry the daughter of Maegor the Cruel. The Velaryons lined up against the Hightowers, who backed Alysanne as the true heir to the throne.
That bad blood didn’t die. It smoldered, reigniting during the Dance of the Dragons a century later. The Velaryons threw their support behind Rhaenyra just as they had once supported Jaehaerys and it was the same fight all over again. The Hightowers, feeling just like last time, defended Aegon II’s claim, as they’d done with Alysanne.
Except this time, no marriage would heal it. The rivalry would end only in fire, war, and the total loss of the dragons.
I had stopped at the end of the Dance, with Aegon III and Jaehaera. In Martin’s telling, Jaehaera dies young, a tragic note in the long chain of tragedy in Aegon the Third’s life. But as I stared at the page, I thought: why? Why not let her live?
If Jaehaera survived, the line of succession could change into something entirely new. Suddenly, the children of Aegon and Jaehaera would be both Black and Green, bound together in one branch of the family tree. Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Daena the Defiant all could be products of that union, their blood carrying both sides of the Dance.
Then the real change struck me. If Jaehaera lived, the descent into the Blackfyre Rebellion era would take on a far more interesting shape. Daeron and Baelor would still perish. That would leave Viserys to rule, and eventually Aegon IV, the Unworthy. In Martin’s version, Daemon Blackfyre’s claim was built mostly on his charisma, his father’s favoritism, and the resentment many lords felt toward Daeron for how he dealt with Dorne.
But here, in mine… he would be something else entirely.
Daemon would still be the child of Aegon IV and Daena the Defiant, but that would mean he carried both Black and Green blood both Rhaenyra’s line and Aegon II’s. A fusion of legitimacy that no other Targaryen could boast. Daeron II, the legitimate son, would carry only Rhaenyra’s line, lacking the symbolic weight of reconciliation that Daemon embodied.
So when Aegon IV legitimized his bastards, Daemon’s claim would have more power than Martin ever gave him. He wouldn’t be just the bastard who bore the sword; he would be the heir that half of Westeros could believe was rightfully theirs the true son of both Black and Green lines. His rebellion would have more weight behind it.
The Blackfyre Rebellion, in my version, could be bloodier, more devastating, and far more believable a time that could shake Westeros to its bones.
I leaned back, grinning at the idea.
This would also help when Young Griff is brought into the story… I had a lot of plans for him.
I began writing, so caught up in this new direction that I completely missed the Aquaman editing session I’d planned to go to.
.
.
I rewrote this chapter like three times.
Comments
Illusiveone
Yes Reagan got elected in 76.
TyrantGod
So wait no jimmy carter as president ?
Tyler Karp
Thank you for the chapter
