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Chapter 47 - Building Bridges
🕑 Added 2025-08-22 21:21:12 +0000 UTCAsgard
Robert landed in Valhalla’s courtyard, and the procession coming out to greet him was a silent one.
“My lord, I hope your new sibling is well.” Tyrion greeted, fearing the worst.
Robert barely even spared him a glance. “Alive, but weak. Doctor Korryn is watching her and my mother now. Unless someone’s dying, he won’t be leaving Storm’s End.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I want provisions readied for me and Sandor. We are going beyond the Wall.”
“May I ask why?” Tyrion had an idea, but he would prefer not to make any assumptions when it came to Robert.
“Because Bloodraven tried to kill my grandmother, and the fright sent my mother into early labor. Sandor, I hope you don’t have a fear of heights.”
“No.” Sandor shook his head.
“Good. Now get ready; I want us to leave as soon as possible.”
—
Provisions enough to last the two of them for three days were loaded on Obelisk and Slifer with saddlebags. With their improved lift-off capacity, the weight did not present a problem.
A chest full of gold dragons was also readied so they could replenish their supplies and feed the dragons if hunting was not possible.
He had considered leaving Slifer behind, but the distance between Storm’s End and Asgard was short, and his grandmother would make regular trips to watch over the city with Ormund.
Everything was ready, and Robert helped Sandor mount Slifer, securing him to the harness with more than one rope.
With orders for Tyrion and Davos to continue the work in their absence, Robert took off on Obelisk, with Slifer following behind.
—
As he remembered, the distance from north to south was three thousand miles, and by his estimates, the distance from Asgard to the Haunted Forest was about one and a half thousand miles.
Without the evolution his dragons underwent, it would take at least ten days to reach that area, with six hours of flight each day, covering somewhere close to one hundred and eighty miles a day.
However, as he could not chart a direct path, which included the hostile Crownlands, he would fly to Grandview first, then pass through the Reach to the Riverlands, avoiding the Targaryen-ruled territory entirely.
And his dragons could last longer and fly twice as fast now, even with the added weight.
Still, he would not needlessly tire them out, and in a week, they would reach the Haunted Forest, with regular stops at settlements to rest and resupply.
—
Grandview
Lord Bennard Grandison used to be a Targaryen loyalist.
In canon, Robert defeated him along with Lords Cafferen and Fell in three different battles, turning the Lord of Grandison from foe to friend.
This time, things were different. He had three dragons and the wealth of Valyria, which meant Bennard’s loyalties were to House Baratheon.
In addition, House Grandison had no female of wedding age, or any unwed female members at all, so after spending a night and a rather lavish dinner, he and Sandor left the following morning.
Speaking of Sandor, his scarred companion didn’t like flying but wasn’t the type to complain about it either.
—
Flying over the verdant fields of Reach, Robert approached the next leg of his journey, Riverlands.
While House Tully were Targaryen loyalists via Catelyn’s marriage to Brandon Stark, their control over the Riverlands wasn’t absolute, so Robert felt comfortable in landing when necessary.
They spent a night in the lands of House Wode, a house too weak to even think of crossing Robert.
Letting the dragons hunt, Robert and Sandor set up camp on dry ground under the clear, starry sky.
“Why would Bloodraven want to kill your grandmother?” Sandor asked in the midst of dinner. Either Bloodraven was a fool, or he had a plan, because Robert was coming for his head.
“Both Brynden and Rhaegar believe in the prophecy of the Prince That Was Promised, and Brynden aids Rhaegar through dreams to follow the prophecy. And with our glorious king being an airhead more interested in myths and legends so he could leave his mark on history, it was like a match made in heaven.” Robert finished his soup and bread, wiping his mouth to continue.
Taking out the wine, he poured two mugs, throwing the empty bottle away. “But I ruined all their carefully crafted plans to feel important by giving dragons to my grandmother and Stannis, not to mention Obelisk, Ra, and Slifer. Brynden must have tried to kill her so Ormund would be free to be claimed.”
Sandor scoffed. “He is a fool to believe you would ever let it happen.”
And he was right, for Robert would rather kill Ormund than let him be claimed by a Targaryen.
“He is a Targaryen, and without whatever blood magic Valyrians used to keep their incestuous practices from turning the entire population of the island into animals in human skin, their sanity and intelligence are degrading. At least they were smart enough to marry outside the family this time.” Though knowing the Targaryens, they would start their incestuous relations in the next generation, breaking down everything built by Aerys and Rhaella, by whom he meant Tywin Lannister.
“What of the Others and the Night King?” Even fighting that sole demon spawn was dangerous; who knew how bad it would be against the Night King?
Robert rolled his mug, watching the swirling wine inside. “On the off chance we encounter them, we leave. The Night King is strong enough to kill a dragon easily, and I doubt he would be open to the idea of dueling me.”
The hound raised an eyebrow. “But you are?”
Robert grinned. “Oh yes, I am sure his head would make a fine trophy.” If Arya could kill the Night King in the show, the Demonslayer of Asgard sure as hell could do it easier.
“Before I would have thought you mad, but now, I think you might actually do it.” Returning from beyond the Wall with the Night King’s head would turn Robert into a near god-like figure in the eyes of the people.
Robert rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Sandor, your words of encouragement warm my heart.”
“I have another matter to ask.”
Sandor was unusually talkative tonight, and Robert welcomed it. “Go ahead.”
“When you killed Gregor, you spoke of things he would do.” He had heard of the atrocities that Robert accused Gregor of much later, but with all his new tasks, it was impossible to find the chance to ask.
“That’s not a question, but sure.” Robert shrugged. Changing the narrative a bit, he didn’t see any harm in telling Sandor his reasons. “My dreams are more clear and varied compared to other dreamers. I don’t just see what would happen but also what could have happened.”
Taking a sip of wine, he continued. “I saw many different Westeroses. One where I wed Lyanna Stark and she passed Rhaegar’s son as mine, and another one where I wed Cersei Lannister and she passed her and Jaime’s children as mine.” He mentioned canon, as well as some of the fanfictions he had read back in his life.
Sandor nearly spat out his wine, coughing before he spoke. “Cersei and Jaime? You are jesting.”
His disbelief was not in the impossibility of it, but rather in how twisted the perfect Lannister twins actually were, as they were called before Cersei was sent to the Silent Sisters.
“You would be surprised how much of a monster Cersei hides beneath her golden, perfect looks, but no matter. I saw worlds where I killed Rhaegar and where I died to him, times when I ruled like a true king and when I simply drank myself to an early grave on the Iron Throne.”
“Shite, most of your dreams sound like nightmares.” Sandor commented. Just the thought of sitting on a throne waiting to die sounded like torture.
Robert nodded after considering Sandor’s words. “I suppose you’re right. As for Gregor, I saw her rape Elia Martell, who was wed to Rhaegar, and kill her infant son, with Loch stabbing her daughter over and over again. All on the orders of Tywin Lannister so he could wed his daughter to me and make her the queen.”
“He was a fucking monster.” Sandor spat. He put his mug down and chuckled as if he remembered something.
“What is it?” Robert asked to see what had made Sandor chuckle.
“Gregor. It was Rhaegar who knighted him.”
“Twists of fate.” You knight someone to protect the weak and swear to be a good person, but instead he rapes your wife and kills your children.
Westeros sucked.
They went to sleep not long after, and with the dragons surrounding the tents, a watch wasn’t necessary.
—
In the morning, just as the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon, Robert and Sandor woke up to break camp and continue their journey north.
But since his dragons hunted game in the lands of another lord, he would visit House Wode and pay the price of the deer, and from their size, it would cost him about sixty gold dragons.
A small price, but Robert would not be branded a brigand.
House Wode had halls of earth and timber and was a noble house of landed knights sworn to Harrenhal.
The arrival of two dragons naturally caused a stir, and Galen Wode, the head of the house, came out to greet them nervously.
He had refused Robert’s offer first, saying it was their pleasure to be of assistance to Robert, but he insisted, eventually paying forty gold dragons before leaving.
—
Lord Harroway’s Town
Seat of House Roote
Flying over the lands of House Wode, the dragons steadily crossed the Acorn Hall and Darry and finally landed at Harroway.
The town was a good place to rest and restock, and soon enough, Rhydan Roote rode out with his retinue to greet Robert, delighted at seeing such a distinguished figure in his lands.
“My lord, you honor us by visiting Harroway. Welcome.” Rhydan was young and energetic, having recently taken over as the head after his father had passed away due to an illness.
“Thank you, Lord Rhydan. I won’t stay long, for my journey can’t wait.”
“I understand, my lord. Please, allow me to welcome you and your knight at my keep.” Sandor snorted at being called a knight but eventually followed Robert’s lead.
—
They were offered salt and bread, and an early dinner was served, with the dragons out there hunting. Lord Roote was fond of speaking about his house’s history, and Robert half listened.
Perhaps even less.
Though, there was one matter that caught Robert’s interest as they left the castle so Robert could buy supplies.
He was watching a ferry when Rhydan commented on how they were one of the two places that offered a passage through the Green Fork, the other being the Twins, the seat of House Frey.
A house he particularly despised.
“Alas, our ships are too few and small to draw many passengers, like House Frey does.” He could hear the bitterness in Rhydan’s voice.
Robert grinned, an idea coming to mind. It might have taken House Frey three generations to finish building the stone bridge, but Robert had the coin to see it done sooner.
Much sooner.
He turned to Lord Rhydan, who was also watching the ferry. “I think, Lord Rhydan, you need a bridge.”
Rhydan faced Robert, looking at him with a questioning gaze. “Most certainly. But we couldn’t raise the coin for it in a hundred generations, not with all the trade passing through the Twins.”
“It just so happens that I am the wealthiest man in all of Westeros, perhaps even the world.”
“What are you suggesting, Lord Robert?” Now Rhydan was getting it.
Robert’s grin turned downright diabolical. “A bridge of your own. I will supply the coin, and you’ll find the workers and the stone. In return, you’ll charge Asgard Trading Company no tolls, and a more modest fee for everyone else to run the Freys out of business or force them to lower their toll.”
Lord Roote was smiling too, imagining the look on Walder Frey’s face. “That would cut into the coffers of House Frey deeply.”
“We have a deal then.” Robert held out his arm, and Rhydan couldn’t have grasped it any faster.
Comments
orcun demir
The Crybaby Lord Walter :)
LordRhyolith
I'm pretty sure Walder will go and cry to the Targaryens about it. Sounds like fun for Robert
