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Chapter 68 - Blade of the Shadows
🕑 Added 2025-12-26 18:53:27 +0000 UTCStorm’s End
“Who is my favorite, huh?” Robert cooed, touching his sister’s nose, “Who is my favorite?” His antics sent the little girl into a fit of giggles, arms swinging wildly.
“She is so cute,” he said, cradling the infant in his arm, tussling her hair. The only grandchild to carry an inkling of Targaryen looks, he took every opportunity to come and see Tali.
His grandmother walked next to him, holding her finger out to the child, “Aye, and seems to be delighted by her eldest brother.”
Robert put his fingers over his chest. “I am the greatest brother in the world; of course she is.”
“Not that great at finding a wife apparently,” his father said, smirking. “I heard that a woman with fiery hair turned you down. She was from Moraq, I think?”
So the news had reached here.
“Ha ha,” Robert said, his voice flat.
Handing his sister back to their mother, Robert decided it was time for business.
“Anyway, I was thinking of funding a town around Storm’s End and sending artisans from the guilds,” he began to lay down his plan.
The town would be built with the magic of the Fae to create a long-lasting and durable settlement. His father and Stannis would have to find the people to move to the town while his guilds created branches. Those people would then be trained to produce the goods Asgard was exporting, except for silk.
He was going to keep that.
House Baratheon would earn a fortune from the taxes, which he insisted that they invest in the town to earn more.
It would take a lot of work, but since the town was being built near Storm’s End, his father and Stannis would shoulder it while he paid for everything.
Perks of being rich: he could just throw coins at the problem until it disappeared beneath a pile.
Once the plans were finalized, he was free.
He spent most of his available time with his sister, playing with her or lazing around before he had to return to Asgard and resume his duties.
Which got his mother and grandmother into a mood to badger him to wed and have children of his own if he liked his sister so much.
He left as soon as he couldn’t handle it.
—
Asgard
Valhalla
“... and our quarterly gains look promising,” Tyrion said, finishing his report.
Two days since he returned from Storm’s End, and the work was already tiresome.
“Good. Anyone else?” he asked. It was important that everyone relayed their opinions.
“Aye,” Caerindra raised her hand, “Why am I here?” What purpose could she serve in this council?
“In case you had something important to say,” Robert said. He actually wanted her to see that the Children and the giants had a voice in Asgard, and if the Fae joined as well, so would they.
Caerindra’s whole body shuddered, and Robert rolled his eyes, “You know, I think you are taking this whole dislike of me a step too far.”
“It’s not you,” she said, eyes closed, still shaking, “I feel something approaching.”
“My lord,” Tyrion pointed a shaky finger behind Robert’s chair.
He leaned on the armrest, looking behind to see shadows gather together, and a monster leaped at him.
Eyes widening for a moment, Robert leaned back, causing the chair to fall, and rolled to the right as the creature went past where his head used to be.
Springing to his feet, he dodged the claws of the shadow demon, moving a step back with a slash.
The face of the creature was very familiar.
After missing the fourth swing, the demon leaped forward, trying to skewer Robert, but he moved to the left at the last second and caught the creature from behind.
Pulling both arms apart, Robert tore them off the smoky figure with a bellow. Not stopping there, his left hand latched to its throat and his right hand to the waist, and he raised the demon over his head.
Its unintelligible screams were scratching his eardrums.
Once again pulling with all his strength, the shadowy figure was torn into two, disappearing in smoky wisps with a cry that echoed through the council room.
“What in the name of the Seven was that?” Davos shouted, standing next to Mag, who was guarding Leaf and Caerindra.
“A shadow bound, a tool of vile sorcery,” Caerindra said, alert for any other sign of the shadow creatures.
His face contorted, lips trembling, “Oh, that bitch.”
“You know who did this, my lord?” Tyrion asked, moving back to his seat now that the danger had passed.
How could he not when Renly was assassinated the same way in the show? “Didn’t you recognize the face?”
“It was familiar to Prince Daeron,” Davos blinked. He did not like where this was going.
“And do you know who in the Seven Kingdoms keeps a sorceress around him?” he asked rhetorically.
Tyrion slumped on his chair, connecting the dots. “The red-haired priestess of R’hllor, the one you kicked out of Asgard as soon as you saw her.”
Which meant the Crown was about to find itself between having to surrender Prince Daeron or die.
—
King’s Landing
Red Keep
Slifer landed in the Outer Yard, standing right before the entrance of the throne room, while Ra was in the sky, ready to rain fire.
Robert patted his dragon on the back, and he let out a fierce roar, shattering glasses and scaring the daylight out of the whole keep.
Rhaegar, followed by the Kingsguard, Aegon, and the men-at-arms, had no choice but to respond to the challenge.
“What is the meaning of this?” Rhaegar questioned with gritted teeth. The white cloaks had surrounded him, hands on the hilts, ready to fight and die should it be necessary.
How adorable, Robert thought.
“I want Daeron and his pet sorceress,” he demanded, waving his hand. “You see, they tried to assassinate me with sorcery.”
The gasps at the accusation were expected, but the Targaryens had more important matters to worry about.
“Anyway, bring him and Melisandre out,” Robert repeated himself.
“You will not take my brother,” Rhaegar said. He stood resolute, making Robert wonder how long it would last under dragon fire.
Two seconds at most, maybe?
“I have no qualms about burning the Red Keep down to the ground,” he grinned, patting his dragon.
Both sides tensed.
Robert and Rhaegar locked in a contest of will, eyes unblinking.
Slifer opened his maw, heat radiating in waves. The Kingsguard drew their swords, standing in front of the king to shield him. Crossbows were raised towards the dragon, fingers on triggers, waiting.
A confrontation seemed inevitable.
It became unnecessary when Daeron revealed himself through the entrance to Middle Bailey, or rather, he was being carried by two guards screaming for the maester.
He looked old, as if decades had passed in the blink of an eye. The silvery hair was white, the face gaunt, the eyes barely open, and the arms and legs twisted, definitely broken.
It was a miracle he was alive.
“Pfft,” Robert chuckled before it turned to full-blown laughter. The guards lowered their weapons, unnerved by the state of the Prince of Summerhall.
He laughed long and hard, enjoying every second of it, but eventually, he calmed down.
Mostly.
“I was going to kill him, but it would be a mercy now,” he chuckled again.
It was impressive that he stayed awake long enough to be brought here.
“You know what, he can live,” Robert said, waving his hand at the pitiful state of the Targaryen prince, “if you can call that living, that is.”
That did not mean they were getting off scot-free.
“Instead, you are going to pay reparations by banning priests of R’hllor from setting foot anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms,” he said.
Rhaegar sniffed, “If it was the priestess that reduced my brother to this state, then I do not need your warnings to do so.”
“Good, then this entire thing has been a waste of time,” he said, and ordered the dragon to take off.
“One last question,” Robert had been looking forward to this, “Have you guys found Mike Hawk yet, or would you like me to show you?” he asked, flying away as he laughed again.
It was so worth making a juvenile pun like that, seeing the looks on their faces.
Leaving the Targaryens to their mess, he left to search for Melisandre, who had fled the keep.
Only a couple of hours had passed since the assassination attempt, and the chances are, she would be seeking a ship in the docks or would have left not long ago. It did not mean finding her was easy or possible, though.
There were dozens of people that matched the description of a tall, slender figure wearing a cloak and a hood. None had seen a hint of hair the color of blood, and every lead had boarded different ships sailing to different ports.
None to Volantis, to his luck, but many were heading to Braavos, Pentos, Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys. The rest, to different parts of Westeros.
Unwilling to give up yet, he sought all the ships the dragons could catch up to, with Ra and Sandor doing the same.
They came up empty-handed.
At the end of the day, he had no choice but to return home.
—
Asgard
“She escaped?” Tyrion asked as Robert’s armor was taken away by the servants.
“And unlikely to stay in Westeros,” he grumbled, taking a seat. Either she was on one of the ships they could not catch up to, or she had sailed to somewhere in Westeros to throw him off her trail.
She could still be hiding in King's Landing for all he knew, but without search parties, finding her would be impossible.
That damn whore was going to die.
“If she is a priestess of R’hllor, then she has no choice but to return to Volantis,” the dwarf said. The only place that would offer her shelter would be the Temple of the Lord of Light.
“Send the triarchs a letter; tell them to send word to me if Melisandre is seen entering the city in the interest of our mutual relations,” he ordered. The triarchs were in no position to deny him, as their fleet was a shadow of its former self.
“As you wish,” Tyrion said, taking a parchment and quill to write the letter. “Would she try again to assassinate you in this manner?”
“I don’t even know how she managed it in the first place,” he scowled, “However, if that bitch can get through the protection of the dragons, then most likely.”
Maybe he should solve this problem at the root and burn down R’hllor’s temple. Though, with the only place she could take shelter gone, Melisandre would disappear into the wind, perhaps escaping as far as Asshai.
He held his hand out for the wine goblet the servant was carrying,“I should have killed her the second she entered my hall.”
“That would have appeared terrible for you,” Tyrion quipped. She was under guest rights, and whether she was a foreigner or not, it still held at the time Robert banished her.
“Don’t I know it.”
—
The letter had been sent with the next trade fleet, and he had even considered putting a bounty on Melisandre’s head.
However, there would definitely be a bunch of uneducated dunderheads that would go after any red-haired woman and bring him the corpses of innocent people, so he disregarded the idea.
Among Asgard’s guards, there wasn’t anyone he would trust to track her down, save Sandor, whom he definitely wouldn’t send after someone like Melisandre, and he was left with no other choice but to force the Free Cities to cooperate.
Once her location had been discovered, Robert would take the dragons and ensure she died by leaving nothing behind.
—
Putting the matter of Melisandre aside, he turned his attention to a different problem.
One army, led by one man, for one purpose.
His counterpart in the show, for all his failings in ruling, had the correct idea when it came to the military. A professional, standing army was worth its weight in gold; however, no kingdom or city in the world could afford to continuously feed, arm, and train a sufficient military force forever.
Except Asgard.
Even then, his city’s trade had to grow a lot more to make it a feasible idea. His wealth, while unmatched, was not endless, and if the army was constantly bleeding coin, it was a matter of time until the vaults were empty.
It may take centuries, perhaps, but he wanted Asgard to last forever.
Or at least, a couple thousand years.
Thinking about how to ensure a standing army did not shake the newly forming economy of Asgard, he had an idea.
Rather than stay idle while not fighting, the soldiers would form the core of Asgard Construction Company. They would build infrastructure, working with the guilds, wherever it was necessary.
Roads, riverbanks, docks, and anywhere the guild needed more manpower, the army would be stationed.
He would also create the Trade Protection Services, where his soldiers could be hired through official channels to protect trade caravans in peacetime. Their fees would be determined by the TPS, including the salaries, food, and utilities.
It would still be cheaper than hiring private guards.
The First Legion would be formed with ten thousand men, and he had already ordered the work to start.
Criers were sent all over the city to make the news known, and postboards were filled with the recruitment announcements.
Ellyn’s first test to see how far she had come would start with building the First Legion Barracks and the drill grounds.
The ideas he had given to the scholars and blacksmiths about using water wheels to help in forging would eventually yield something, and he could arm the entire legion in good-quality steel.
Ranks and units were determined based on a mix of what he remembered regarding the modern militaries of Earth and the elements in fictional universes.
It had created a lot of administrative work, but he was excited to have a ten-thousand-strong legion to command.
He just had to work hard for it.
—
Across the Narrow Sea, a figure crawled out of a crate, dusting herself. She had gone to great lengths with her shadow binding, only for all of it to fail.
That brute had torn her weapon apart with bare hands, a first in her very long life.
She had to run now, because the Lord of Asgard would not leave her be.
Neither would she stop. If Robert wasn’t Azor Ahai, then he was a usurper, a false claimant, and he had to die.
It was such a pity that the last vestiges of Valyria were proving to be unfit to be the candidates. But it was not over yet.
If his dragon dreams were correct, then Azor Ahai was not one person, but two. Daenerys Targaryen, the youngest sister of the king, and Jaehaerys Targaryen, his son and heir.
She would see that they followed the path of the Lord of the Light.
Comments
Garreon LeFay
Wow Melisandre, you are going to fuck up so much
