I Don't Own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Game of Thrones!
Story by Kyoka Suigetsu Totsuka
King's Landing – 283 AC
"It should not be me, Ned." Robert Baratheon looked to his brother in all but blood. "They may call it Robert's Rebellion, but this war was yours as much as mine, and you will make a far finer King than me."
"Speak sense, Robert. This is hardly the time."
"You know this to be true." The Mighty Stag's eyes found the ground, "The throne will suit me ill, brother. This is not what I wanted."
"It is your duty, Robert. The men out there follow you, not me. You are the one who killed Rhaegar Targaryen and you have claimed the right to the Iron Throne. There cannot be anyone else. We need a leader now more than ever. The country is fractured, and someone needs to sew it back together."
"That person should not be me." Robert stepped closer to Eddard, "I'm not…kingly."
"You will learn to be." Ned smirked, "Jon will teach you."
Robert scoffed with a soft smile, "When has Jon ever managed to teach me anything?"
Eddard placed a hand on his shoulder, "Robert, there can be no one else. You will be the new King." Solemnly, he continued, "My father is gone, along with Brandon and…Lyanna. I am one of the last Starks remaining in this world. My place is at Winterfell." Swallowing a choke, "If not for the Realm, if not for your people, if not for me and Jon, at least do this for Perseus." A glimmer of hope passed Robert's eyes. "Legitimize him as your trueborn son, make him Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms."
"My little Percy," whispered Robert fondly, "Lyanna's little Percy."
Fighting tears, Eddard forged on. "Lyanna…she would have wanted this for her son, your son. She may not have said anything, but she was ashamed of his status as a bastard. She loved Percy and she would have wanted to see him become everything he could be."
"My son has never been a bastard to me." Robert managed a smile at the thought of his boy, "He is mine and Lyanna's son. He is the best gift the gods have given me." He looked to Ned and his grey, sullen eyes, "He may look just like me, but he has his mother's spirit. Only three namedays and already a warrior. He never cried once during the Siege of Storm's End, not once. Even when men died by the dozen each day, when Renly sobbed to Stannis, my son did not break. He is a true Storm Lord."
Eddard nodded fondly, "Yes, he is his mother's son." He looked at Robert, "And his father's."
"The Others take you, Ned!" Robert laughed as he blinked away his tears, "Alright! I'll take the damned throne. I'll keep it warm and try not to impale myself at least until Percy can take my place." Clearing his throat and fixing his heavy formal armor, he smiled, "As soon as this coronation is over, tell Jon to draft Percy's legitimacy decree. It shall be my first act as King."
"As you command, Your Grace."
"Now don't you fucking start calling me that!"
Eddard fought a laugh, "It's only proper, my King." Fixing his own armor, he turned to face the velvet curtain. "Now, it is time. I'll follow behind you."
A deep rumbling could be heard beyond the curtain and the sound of heavy rain seeped through. It was a storm, one of the worst in this long spring. Strong winds howled and thunder roared under the dark skies, with only flashes of lightning illuminating the Red Keep. Some may have called it a bad omen, that even the skies dreaded the new dynasty, but for House Baratheon, the storm was merely their herald, the Storm Lords.
'Ours is the Fury.'
With his house words in mind, Robert stepped through the curtain and into the storm, clad in his Royal Stag armor, black and golden. With his presence, the columns of horns blew, all managing a pathetic whisper over the loud storm. Rows of men held their swords high, forming an arch, a long path into the Red Keep, all the way to the Iron Throne.
Grasping onto his sword pommel, Robert made his way towards his glorious prize that felt to be his doom. With every step, the winds grew stronger and the thunder louder, the lightning ever so bright. Mayhaps it was not his intention, but Robert had fulfilled the dream of all of his ancestors: to rule the Seven Kingdoms, for all of Westeros to live under the Crowned Stag.
In the throne room, the very same place the Mad King had roasted Rickard Stark alive, had made Brandon Stark strangle himself to death, now hung the Baratheon Crowned Stag. All their dragon skulls, once proud, then withered low, now nonexistent. The Iron Throne, the one Aegon the Conqueror had forged with dragon-fire, now belonged to him, the man who ended the last dragon.
Standing by the throne, Robert turned to see the lords and ladies of Westeros before him, all battered and wet from the storm, all under him, all bowing their heads. Even the High Septon, who was so willing to denounce his rebellion, now stood small beside him, shakily holding his crown.
"I present to you, Robert of the House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Rhoynar, the Andals, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Long may he reign!"
"LONG MAY HE REIGN!"
With a heavy crown upon his head while sat upon the uncomfortable throne, Robert resigned to his fate.
'And now my watch begins.'
End of Prologue
First of all, I'm so sorry for starting a new story when I should be finishing my other ones. But I have been experiencing the worst bout of writer's block of my life. I can't blame everything on the pandemic or my increased workload, but I really need to refresh my mind. As such, I've decided to do something I've never done before, a Percy Jackson and Game of Thrones Crossover. It's something new, and I've needed something new for a while.
I hope you all will enjoy this story. I've had it on my mind for some time.
Thank you and it's so nice to talk to you all again. I hope you've all been well and safe.