The Prince and Emperor of Westeros

Chapter 1: A Prince Is Born

The siege of Altdorf was hell brought to reality, that damnable Archaeon, he would not fail the world, fail his men, fail the empire… fail Sigmar. Every maneuverer he and King Louen Leoncouer did was all for nought, every action, every sacrifice it was all for nought. It was all wasted.

Men who bravely stood against the horrors of chaos were torn asunder. Bravery and courage would not shield them from the foul powers of chaos or the cruelty of war. Louen fell fighting the plague father, he now stood before the palace gates.

His armour rent, Deathclaw dead, his arm severed. But he refused to despair, he refused, he would not give the foul demons of Nurgle the satisfaction. He levelled his gaze at the pungent disgusting being, the brothers relished killing Deathclaw his beloved friend. They relished taking his arm, but the relish of his despair was not to be founded.

Tightening his hand on his runeblade, Otto advanced, he knew he was going to die. He could not fight the demon in such a state, death was inevitable. His muscles tensed and corded as his eyes watched the demon. Almost watering from the stench but not turning away.

He could scarcely hear the crescendo of hoofs before a mount entered the scene, attracting the attention of the Nurgle demons. The blasted demon avoided the blow from the horseman, before he looped around, he knew who it was.

"Kurt.." he spoke his Reiksmarshals name

"Karl…" the man replied grimly back

It was fitting both men would die together, they always fought together and did their best to ensure the survival of the empire. The two-man stood side by side, grim-faced and knowing their fate but would be resisting it nonetheless. The harrowing laughter of the demons filled the courtyard. They relished their suffering, such was the scum of chaos.

The demon, hefted its scythe surging forth intent on ending the Emperor. The fat jiggling demon, mass beguiled its speed. Raising his runeblade, he was weak with blood loss and too slow. Kurt threw his blade forth slicing the scythe off from its wooden handle, sending it clattering.

The marshal for his efforts was backhanded, the emperor did not waste the chance plunging his runeblade straight through the fatty tissue of his foe, the blade going all the way to the hilt. But he missed…

His foe hissed but did not falter, wrenching a rusted blade from its belt, it thrust it forward seeking to behead the emperor. Yet, death did not come, Kurt returned and grasped the blade, losing three of his fingers before the blade shoved through his head, exploding out the back splattering the emperor in the blood and brain of his marshal.

A weak "Sigmar…" escaped his lips before his body dropped to the floor lifeless and dead.

The demons cackled, they enjoyed it, they were toying with him. And he could do nothing about it. Tearing out the Runeblade impaled into him, the demon cackled evilly, relishing the blade before its eyes rested on the emperor. Its brother approached him, the two licked their putrid lips as they sought to finish him off.

The blade raised and with nothing else to do, he raised his arm defiance, the blade bit his flesh and sliced. Before impaling and cutting his shoulder. With his final breath.

"Sigmar"

Darkness greeted the emperor.

Kings Landing 281 AC

Cersei Lannister sat, her eyes longingly stared at the cup of water. She wished this pregnancy would be over, so she could see her son. Not their son, her son. She had held hope ever since their wedding night, when he whispered the Stark girls name, that she would give birth to a beautiful son. She knew it was a son, no doubt in her mind.

Her marriage was not what she expected, she was queen yet she was dishonoured. The man for the life of him could not stop whoring and drinking and this was the great man who defeated the Targaryen's.

All her hope rested on the child on her belly, she was nearly due. She minded her days, they seemed to grow slower. Achingly slow, she kind of wished the child would just get out already. Her father was excited for an heir, as was Jon Arryn it was important to secure the throne.

Then she felt it, it was powerful, she let out a howl of pain. Gripping her protruding belly, the door swung open as her brother stepped in. Resplendent in his king's guard armour, his brows knitted as he looked at her.

"Cersei!" he called her name

"Jaime! Ahhh! The child!" she spoke as she gripped the chair, her fingers digging into the chair.

"Maester!" he called out to another king's guard she couldn't see who it was running off, his armour echoing through the hall.

Her brother swooped in grasping her by the arms gently hefting out of the chair. "We must get to the birthing room!" Cersei shot her brother a look, a retort of annoyance was about to leave her but instead a hiss of pain.

Her body was wracked with pain, but she was a Lannister, she was strong. She would survive, they would survive. Birthing scared her, her mother came to her mind. But she would not let anyone know, she would be a Queen in the birthing room.

Jaime helped her, shouting for any bumbling servants to get out of the way. She could her husband's thundering voice echo through the keep.

"Move your arses! Where's the bloody midwife!" He shouted as servants scrambled from the furious king, his eyes flicked up to her as they neared the birthing chamber. He stared at her as if she was made of glass, but she was not glass she was a lion.

"Good luck…" were the only words he could muster and for once her husband sounded sincere.

She was promptly ushered in the birthing room, resting on the bed as her brother left her at the door. The birth of the heir began.

"This is fucking taking too long!" Robert Baratheon growled, the man was still relatively fit, but a belly could be seen growing around his waist.

Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy stood by him, the older Kingsguard was calm, he had seen many a birth. As did Jaime but he shared the man's concern for his sister and lover.

"Your Grace, it is a difficult process," Barristan said quietly, trying to calm his king.

"I could have made the eight by the time she gave birth. Seven Hells" he said in anger as he continued pacing. Jaime resisted the urge to roll his eyes of course he would make a whoring joke as his wife gave birth.

Then the shouting stopped, the keep went eerily quiet. All men turned to the door with bated breath. Moments ticked by before a midwife opened the door.

"It's a boy your grace!" she greets with a wide smile, the men let out a cheer before the king enters the birthing room.

"Then why isn't the damn boy crying!" He growled back clearly anxious, to say the least.

On the birthing bed splayed before them was Cersei, sweat-stained her brow and in her arms was a small bundle. She looked tired but so happy. Robert quickly strode over towering over as he stared down at the baby.

Stands of black hair could be seen on his head, but the most noticeable thing was a pair of shining emerald eyes. They appeared to be the finest jewels they tinged with life but there was a serious edge to them.

"Look at him! Strong as his father! Eyes as beautiful as his mother!" Robert barked out before glancing at the old maester Pycelle who was dithering in the corner.

"Why isn't he crying?" he asked seriously it was almost quiet

"Uhh, I am not sure your grace, it is… unusual but not unheard of." He replied

"But but he is perfectly healthy!" he further affirmed

"What do you want to name him Cersei?" The King turned to the Queen both of them completely enamoured with their son.

Cersei pondered for a moment, gently shaking her son in her arms, her lips moved as if driven by something.

"Karl… Karl Baratheon"

"Aye that's a good strong name Cersei, he will be wielding a Warhammer like his father soon!" He grinned proudly, calling out to the room. Cersei and Robert marvelled as their child seemed to let out a happy gurgling noise.

"See even he can't wait till he's swinging a Warhammer around!"

"He will be the perfect prince…" Cersei whispered as she held her child, she loved him. Her eyes said it all, and her child meets her eyes. As if a flicker of recognition went through them. From that moment Cersei knew her son would be more intelligent than any other man.

She pushed her smallest finger to her child, quickly finding one of her son's tiny hands grasping it. Barely able to wrap around her finger but grasping nonetheless. To her surprise and shock, his other hand was squeezing the air. In the direction of his father and it was one of the few she saw Robert Baratheon smile so earnestly.

Understanding what their son wished, he would push his own smallest finger quickly finding it grasped by their son's hand. Cersei would not believe it if she had not seen it but a small tear trailed down her husband's face.

This child would help patch their turbulent marriage at least a little bit…

Kings Landing 286 AC

Karl Franz no Karl Baratheon, did not expect to awaken seeing a golden-haired woman and a big boisterous man who praised him. Who he would later know are his parents. He thought this was a fever dream, he died at Altdorf, dead no doubt in his mind but now he was alive.

He had grown up quickly, it was jarring to be an older man in a child's body. But he took it in stride, he needed to know where he was. He knew after his lessons with the Maester Pycelle he was no longer in the Old World or the New World.

He was the prince of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. He quickly dove into history devouring books much to the joy of Jon Arryn, Hand of the King who had taken on a grandfather role to him. His mother was proud of him no matter what he did, it was a bit concerning that he could do no wrong in her eyes not that he gave her any cause to do so. His father was rather absent unfortunately but he did not seek his validation, he did not see a need or a reason to.

He was born to Robert Baratheon, his father by all accounts was a great warrior he did destroy a 300-year dynasty. But he got a headache at seeing his statesmanship, if it were not for Jon Arryn it would have been a civil war all over again. His father was a great warrior but he was not blind to it, he could see his father was wasting away and… it was impossible not to hear or see his whoring. He shuddered every time he saw. He sympathised with his mother, he could see how it hurt her. He did his best to cheer her up as much as a child could.

He almost laughed at how reminiscent the Seven Kingdoms were of the empire, he could see his Father and Jon Arryn balancing the other houses. Much like how he used to balance the other states of the Empire.

Cersei Lannister his mother, he did admit she was a lioness, very fitting considering she came from House Lannister. His Uncle Jaime Lannister was the Kingsguard he spent a lot of time with, as well as Ser Barristan and from time to time Ser Arys Oakheart. All the men were good at times very protective but they did their duty, it reminded him of his own Reiksguard and Barristan would remind him of Kurt in a way.

He already had a younger brother, Joffrey Baratheon. The boy was born about a year after him. He was only a year younger but Karl already had reservations about his younger brother, the child was spoilt dearly by his mother even more so than him sometimes. But what was intriguing was the difference in looks, whereas he had his father's black hair and his mother's green eyes.

Joffrey had green eyes but blonde hair, it seemed a bit different he was expecting his brother to have black hair like his father, uncles and himself but blood was a fickle thing. What began to concern him was Joffrey being spoilt and growing to be petulant, the boy would throw a tantrum at the whiff of anything hurting him. Leading to his mother coddling him even more and more, encouraging his behaviour. He did not seem to act like his father, himself or his uncles and had concerns for his brother.

He did his best to guide his brother but he had little time, he was devouring books, he needed information. He wondered if he could find an explanation as to why he was here, there were dragons at one point. So he knew there was magic, but it appears to have died off. Could there be elements of his Old World? If so he couldn't find any at his age by going out and exploring the world, he could only rely on outdated ancient books. Which were not the most interesting to read.

He noticed that he was pretty big for a child of his age, it didn't help his father commented on it and he could see the looks of his mother and Kingsguard. He did not wish to stand idle, he had time to train and become stronger, he refused to die the way he did before. That leads him to the conversation at the dinner table.

"I want to begin learning how to fight." He stated without tact, his voice not how he remembered it took him a while to get used to it being so high-pitched.

"My dear, you are but a child of five, it is too early…" His mother said quickly with concern, he glanced to his father who burst out into laughter at his words.

"I told you he would be a warrior! What weapons do you wish to learn?" he asked his father for once paying attention and extremely interested

"The Sword and The Warhammer" he replied coolly, Joffrey did not appear interested in the conversation, enjoying tearing his meat with a knife.

"Two weapons boy?" his father raised an eyebrow, surprised by such an answer.

"Aye, I feel both of them to call to me…" he said frankly, he did no weapons felt as perfect as his Dragon Tooth or Ghal Maraz.

"That would be difficult most men only stick one to weapon and spend their whole lives."

"I am not like most men father…" Karl spoke mysteriously to his father and mother. Who turned to look at each other before a smile graced his mother's lip.

"Yes, my prince you are a lion."

"And a stag, look at you! You are gonna be big as one when you become a man grown!"

"Barristan and Jaime!" he growled out the two Kingsguard stepping forward

"You two will train my boy in the Sword and I will help train him with a Warhammer!"

"It will be done your Grace" Barristan replied while Jaime just give a simple nod

"I look forward to seeing you wield a Warhammer Father." He complimented, he hoped that he could encourage his father to take better care of himself. He had read the history; his father could smash men's breastplates in but now… the only thing he was smashing were whores. He began to grow an unruly beard and his waist began to expand, he feared his father would waste away even faster.

"Soon you will be crushing in breastplates and fucking whores!" He laughed proudly leaning over to clap his son on the shoulder, he gave a schooled smile before glancing at his mother and giving her a silent understanding. She knew her precious lion would not do so, but it made her heart flutter proudly for her son.

"Let's start with crushing in breastplates first." He nodded to his father.

Kings Landing 287 AC

As he began learning more and more about the other kingdoms, he would one day rule. He let out a sigh of exasperation, his father loved the Starks. He did not blame him, out of all the Great Houses none commanded as much honour or honesty as the Starks did. That was something admirable. But the North was too isolated, if there were to be a Targaryen Uprising, Kingslanding could fall before they even arrived.

The Tully's ruled the Riverlands which every war suffered the most due to a lack of natural barriers, they would be loyal through the Starks and loyal to his father. The Vale too would be bound by Jon Arryn to be on his side or through the love of Starks and Baratheon.

He had no doubt his dutiful uncle Stannis, who reminded him of some old faces in the Empire. Would be loyal to him, the man was uncompromising as Ludwig. The Lannisters, he shuddered at the thought of them they seemed to be everywhere, that was not surprising considering his Grandfathers obsession with legacy and prestige.

He had read the Rains of Castamere and he could judge what kind of man his Grandfather was but his obsession with legacy would keep him loyal, he was half his blood in that regard.

But little had been done to reconcile Dorne or the Tyrells. If Dornish Prowess was half as good as expounded then they would be a formidable army, moreover the Tyrells their armies were on par with two of the other Kingdoms. One would think after a civil war; reconciliation would be made but his father was as uncompromising as his uncle in that regard. He would not give any 'dragon lovers' an inch of mercy or compromise.

While the kingdom was stable it could be more stable.

And that left the Greyjoys, they were no worse than Greenskins in his eyes. They did nothing but reave and pillage, paying the iron price, stealing women and children and enslaving them. He would not hesitate to crush them, replace them with a house less inclined to their drowned god's ways. What kind of people thinks trading and commercial activities as a sign of weakness? It's insanity!

Sighing and shutting the book before throwing it on his desk. Grabbing a cup of water and taking a sip of it. Enjoying the cool drink before kicking off, his eyes flicking to a wall in the corner of the room. He had discovered a secret entrance to the tunnel system beneath the Red Keep.

Walking over and pulling out a mock brick allowing him to pull open the entrance, he would grab the torch and begin entering the winding dark tunnels. A need to explore he once had long ago when he was younger and would explore cities, taverns and gambling dens. He also hoped he might find something down there, books or anything.

The lit torch barely lit his path and the tunnels were cramp and dusty. He continued exploring finding old torches on the walls he would light to mark his path. The rekindled torches barely lit compared to the one he was holding.

The path meandered before he seemingly came to a dead-end, reaching out he would grasp the carved stone it felt smooth against his hand but it seemed weirdly arbitrary that there was a dead end. His hands began exploring the walls before he seemed to find a pile of stones, covering an entrance.

With one hand he began pulling away from the stones as he did, the torch seemed to light a small alcove. After pushing out more of the rocks and giving him space to allow him in. He would find a chest with a tapestry over it. Bringing his torch closer he saw the emblem of house Connington, a pair of griffins. Leaning down and grasping the tapestry and throwing it off, popping open a chest he let out a breath of disbelief.

It was a griffin egg; he was intrigued Griffins may have existed at one point but appear to have died out way before dragons. He did dream of his companion Deathclaw, he held a solemn hope that the Griffin could be reborn like him, he gave up hope till now.

"Praise Sigmar…" he whispered as he hefted the egg, it was a beautiful egg of red and white hues. But as he grasped the egg, he felt it a pulsing power. His heart began racing, no it couldn't be this bond….

He sprinted clutching the egg as he ran back the way he came, nearly tripping as he did, bursting into his room. He gulped as he found his Father and Mother as well as his Uncle.

"Where!" His father spoke before he stopped staring at his son and egg, Cersei looked at her son with a look of relief and anger for causing her to worry. While his uncle Jaime looked bored as ever till he saw the egg his eyes widening.

"Boy! Where did you get that egg!" he growled, his father was angry and he knew why he thought it was a dragon egg. Glancing down at the egg before back to his father.

"Father, I found it exploring the tunnels it's not a dragon's egg" he replied firmly and confidently

"WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS IS IT!" his father roared, blood lust consuming him but before he could utter a response. The egg began cracking in his hands, everyone paused waiting with bated breath before a loud caw echoed through the room.

The eggshell falling between his fingers and he cradled in his hand a baby griffin.

"It's a griffin…" his mother spoke as his father looked rather gobsmacked, the small creature had a leonine body with the head of a bird, it had small wings.

The Griffin looked up at Karl and let out a thrill of joy as it hopped onto his shoulder nuzzling against him. He smiled and pet his companion, there was no doubt in his mind this was Deathclaw.

"Deathclaw." He spoke and the Griffin let out a proud but high-pitched squawk. The three adults marvelled at the seeming intelligence of the creature.

"Father you may be a stag and mother a lion. But I am both, the stag is the King of the Woods and a Lion the King of the Predators and bows before no sheep. But I shall be the King of the Skies and the Seven Kingdoms."

His uncle let out a small chuckle, it was one of disbelief but of proudness. Cersei was torn between proudness and mother instinct for her son scared the Griffin is going to maul him. His father looked at him, wishing to strangle the creature but also an edge of proudness.

"The Griffin is a sign of one of those Targaryen supporters, house Connington…" His father pointed out an edge of anger.

"And? They are not the ones who cradle a Griffin are they?" he spoke simply as Deathclaw cawed in agreement.

"Fine, I can rub it in those Connington fuckers anyway… But that is in your care boy if it dies it's your responsibility." His father commanded before walking out probably going to have a drink.

Leaving him with his mother and uncle. His mother was torn before shouting at him and hugging him. He would gently place Deathclaw on his table before walking up to hug his mother who quickly wrapped her arms around him.

"It's alright mother, I am unhurt." He told her as she squeezed him and kissed his forehead

"Are you sure? You scared us, we could not find you! You should not have gone into the tunnels at all!" She scolded him fiercely, luckily his uncle came to his defence

"It's okay Cersei, I have seen him, he studies and trains like a madman. The Sevens know he could use a break. Children get into mischief let him do so before he becomes grumpy and as old as Barristan"

"Jaime, he may be a child but he is the Prince! It's not the same!" Cersei spoke to her brother before turning to her son.

"You don't go into the tunnels ever! Sevens know what could be lurking in there and you could be lost and we could not find you!" She continued lecturing

"Of course Mother, it was irresponsible of me. I did not mean to upset you… or disappoint you..." His mother gave him a proud smile

"You could never disappoint me, Karl, you are my firstborn…my golden lion… my golden griffin"

Their moment was ruined by squawking from Deathclaw, the three of them let out a small laugh.

"I guess he wishes to have some food!" Jaime smirked at the small creature

As the three walked to the kitchen, Karl Baratheon knew that something was afoot, finding a griffin egg is a miracle, having said griffin respond to Deathclaw… it was fate. It seemed Sigmar still had a role for him, but the question was what?

This is my first foray into Warhammer Fantasy and A song of Ice and Fire/Game of thrones, this first chapter I don't think is the strongest start. But I went with the flow and hopefully quality will improve over time! I already have a general road map of where I want things to go, the only thing I am considering is whether to give Karl Franz a harem, this thought is more for shits and giggles but I thought I would listen to reviewer's thoughts.

Otherwise, it will be a single pairing, if anyone wants to guess who go for it, as always leave a review if you enjoyed reading.

Also I of course do not own the art or Warhammer Fantasy or A Song of Ice and Fire