I Don't Own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Game of Thrones!
Story by Kyoka Suigetsu Totsuka
Chapter 2: Royal Wedding
King's Landing – 284 AC
Perseus Baratheon watched from his training quarters, inside the White Sword Towers of the Red Keep. Under the sunny skies, King's Landing was clear for him to see. People, as small as ants, gathered in droves and lined the streets leading to the Dragon Gate. As the sun reached its zenith, the gates opened for House Lannister.
Once again, Lannister colors marched into King's Landing. Mere moons ago the same men had sacked the city, and had burned, murdered, and raped with impunity, all in the name of justice. Even when the streets ran as red as their banners, the Lions of the Rock were praised as heroes, as one of the families to overthrow the accursed Targaryen Dynasty.
But according to rumors around the castle, the Lannisters had to pay for their cheering masses, so Percy could only assume that most still knew better.
"My Prince," said Ser Barristan Selmy, approaching the boy. "It is time. We must join the King in the Great Hall."
"Thank you, Ser Barristan."
The Crown Prince looked every inch the Baratheon Royalty he was. Dressed in fine golden silks and black leather, he was every bit the Stag and Wolf. In his father's colors, but in formal northern leather armor, the young prince honored both his houses. Hanging by his side was a blunted short sword in an ornate black and golden scabbard. Even though it looked too large for the four years old prince, he was no less excited about it.
Percy had begged his father for a real sword, saying that his Uncle Renly was only three years older and had already a collection of swords. After a few agonizing moons, King Robert had surprised his son of his fourth nameday with Night Fury, his first sword. It was only a short sword and it was blunted, but for Percy it was as if holding Ice, House Stark's legendary Valyrian Steel Sword.
Making his way down the spiraling staircase, Percy grinned as he held onto the golden pommel of Night Fury.
"Ser Barristan, can we have our lesson after this?"
Ever since Perseus was given his sword, King Robert had tasked Ser Barristan to personally teach the boy to swing the blade. As expected, the boy was overjoyed at the prospect of being taught by one of the most famous knights in the kingdoms. Unexpected by all, however, was how talented the boy seemed to be. He took to the sword like fish to water, and in a matter of months, he could keep up with his Uncle Renly in his training.
The Commander of the Kingsguard smiled down at the prince, "We may not have time, My Prince. The feast will start soon after the welcome ceremony and it will carry on well into the night."
"It will take that long?" asked Percy with a pout. "What a waste of time."
Chuckling, Barristan patted Percy's shoulder, "The Royal Wedding is a spanning affair. The feast tonight is merely the start. The tourney will take at least three days. It will take at least the week for all matters to settle. As the Crown Prince, you must attend all events. The King will need you by his side."
"I will be there. I promise."
"Thank you, My Prince."
"But I do wish we can continue or sword lessons. I can't sit around for the whole week."
"You're still very young, Your Grace. It takes time to cultivate proper martial skills and you need to let your body grow into proper form. You can only do so much at your age. Have patience." Barristan looked on ahead, "A prince must be many things, but not necessarily a good fighter."
"No, I must be a warrior," said the prince with conviction.
Barristan stared at the prince at his words. "Why?"
"I am a Baratheon and a Stark. The Storm Lords and Kings of Winter are all warriors, and I'll need to live up to my family name." Percy smiled at his teacher, "Like Uncle Ned always says, Winter is Coming. I'll need to be prepared."
The Kingsguard sighed, "Don't be too hard on yourself, young prince. You're not the first prince to carry everything on their shoulders. Learn to trust in others; you can't do everything yourself." Percy looked up at the legendary knight as he spoke. "Remember, nothing is ever written in stone. Never trust in prophecies and never lose yourself in the words of others. Many a prince has died because of those things."
"Alright," muttered Percy before he broke into a smile, "Don't worry, I trust you and father and grandpa Jon to teach me."
Barristan laughed, "Thank you, My Prince."
Perseus had long since been told of House Lannister, but each story was different. He could scarcely remember the first time he'd heard their name, but he recalled it being during one of his early lessons of Maester Walys back in Winterfell. He couldn't remember much of the lesson, but they were apparently very rich in gold. More interesting were the stories Old Nan had told him before bed, stories of Lan the Clever, the forefather of House Lannister, who swindled the Casterly Family out of Casterly Rock and took their castle for himself. Almost every story was of their greatness or stretching history, but recent accounts were different.
His Uncle Ned would sound angry whenever the Lannisters were brought up, and more than once had the prince heard his father and uncle arguing about them. His uncle had wanted to send some Lannister men to the wall as punishment, but his father and grandpa Jon had wanted to pardon them. Percy didn't understand what they were talking about, but it didn't seem good or honorable. The name Jaime Lannister was often heard, and Percy had seen the Golden Kingsguard a few times, but never up close. Ser Barristan never allowed him to be around Percy.
As of late, there was scarcely a dinner when the Lannisters wouldn't be brought up. Night after night, his father and grandpa would argue about Cersei Lannister, who Percy understood was to be his stepmother soon. Even after many words with his father and grandpa, Percy didn't know what to feel about the woman who would be queen, the one who would sit on his mother's throne.
"Percy, stand up straight," whispered Grandpa Jon, gently smiling down at his surrogate grandson. "They are coming."
Waking from his thoughts, Percy found himself inside the Great Hall. He stood to the right of the Iron Throne, this towering monstrosity of melted and contorted swords. Percy had heard the story many times, of how Aegon the Conqueror had melted down all the swords of his enemies to create the Iron Throne, the most powerful seat in the Seven Kingdoms. The story had long since lost its charm to Percy; ever since his mother was kidnapped by the Targaryen Prince, Percy had only contempt for the dead dragonlords. But looking at it now, towering into the air, his father sat upon it, it did look Kingly, only not very comfortable.
The Great Hall had changed since a few moons ago. Percy could clearly remember the day the giant dragon skulls had been roughly removed from the hall. Now it was filled with grand tapestries with images of hunting and battles, much more comforting in his opinion. The hall felt much bigger now, especially now that hundreds of people were lined up before the sides of the hall, all dressed in splendor.
Looking into the crowd, Percy found many eyes and smiles directed at him, but he couldn't recognize anyone. But before he could see closer, the minstrels started to play, and music filled the halls.
Red and Gold filtered into the hall and Percy saw for the first time the woman his father was going to marry.
Lead down the middle dressed in a flowing golden gown, Cersei Lannister was beautiful. Percy had never seen such golden hair. Beside the future queen was an older man, tall and stoic. Percy assumed that that was Tywin Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. According to his Grandpa Jon, he was the most powerful lord in Westeros; according to his Uncle Ned, he wasn't the most powerful lord, but wanted to be; either way, Percy knew he should stay away.
On her other side was a man Percy had seen several times, the Lion of Lannister, Jaime Lannister, or Kingslayer as his uncle and many others liked to call him. He wasn't wearing his white Kingsguard armor, opting for his Lannister colors. He looked every bit the golden knight of the songs, but Percy's uncle's words suddenly came to mind. The knight with the cleanest and shiniest of armor was a summer soldier, worthless in the face of the true steel of winter.
Cersei and Tywin approached the Iron Throne as the Kingslayer stayed behind and bowed as his father stood.
"Welcome to King's Landing, Lord Tywin, Lady Cersei."
Tywin Lannister bowed again, "Thank you for such a welcome, Your Grace."
"It's my pleasure, my Lord." King Robert descended from the throne, towering over Tywin as he stood before the old lion. "You honor me with your daughter's hand in marriage."
Tywin nodded, "The honor is ours, my King." He turned to his daughter and gestured her forward.
Cersei Lannister approached the King, draped in golden silk and red velvet, golden jewelry and pearls hanging all over her. But even her gold wasn't as golden as her hair, luscious and long. Percy thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen but judging by the less than excited expression on his father's face, she must not be as beautiful as he thought.
"Your Grace," she said sweetly.
Robert kissed her hand, "The minstrels sing truth about your beauty, Lady Cersei."
"You are too kind, My King."
Jon Arryn stepped forward, speaking as Hand of the King and informally as the father of the groom. Being of the same standing as Tywin Lannister, Jon looked much frailer and more aged, but no less powerful. The Warden of the East and West bowed to each other.
"Your Grace, My Lord, My lady, let us guide you to the Royal Quarters. You must be tired after your long journey."
Robert nodded, "Yes, let's have you settled in before we begin the feast."
"Very well," said Tywin.
"One moment, my King." Cersei Lannister looked to Perseus and smiled, "I must make a proper introduction to the prince." Percy was surprised when Cersei walked to him, giving him a smile and a curtsy. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Perseus."
Looking at his father and grandpa Jon, Percy remembered his words and manners. "Well met, Lady Cersei." He reached for her offered hand and kissed her knuckle, "Welcome to King's Landing."
Cersei smiled, "Such delightful manners for one so young."
"You are too kind, my Lady."
Robert cleared his throat. "Come, my Lady, we can continue this conversation later." Holding out an arm for her, Robert led his intended away from his son.
"Lead the way, my King."
Percy watched his father walk away with the Lannisters and waited until his grandpa's wave before following behind them. He did not miss the worried and concerned stares of his father and grandpa but was confused by them. Lady Cersei seemed kind and sweet, and very beautiful. Perhaps they were worried about her replacing his mother, but it was an unfounded concern for Percy. No one will ever replace his wonderful mother, no matter how sweet their smile.
It was the largest amount of food Percy had ever seen in his life. Maids and cooks marched into the Great Hall like an army, all holding onto trays upon trays of food, all with fine details. From roasted boars from the Vale Mountains, spiced bread from Dorne, to cured meats from the North, everything was on display. Wagonfuls of Dornish Red and Arbor Gold flowed freely as people drank as if dying from thirst, all seeming less like high lords and ladies and more like the common people Percy had seen back in Winter Town.
From the high table of honor, the prince looked down to see many lords, all raising the occasional goblet to his father, praising his glory and wishing for his health, but Percy didn't recognize any of them.
"You shouldn't stare, Percy."
Percy looked away at his grandpa's voice, "Sorry."
Jon smiled and refilled Percy's cup with fresh fruit juice. "Relax and try to enjoy yourself, my boy. This is a feast, not a council meeting." The Hand of the King chuckled as he looked at the boy sat on the other side of Percy, "The gods know your Uncle Renly is enjoying himself."
Percy giggled at turned to see his red-faced uncle sipping on his cup of stolen wine. "He looks like a tomato."
Jon sipped on his own chilled wine, "There is a lot of people smiling at you, Percy. There is no need to smile back, not yet. You're still young, and I'll not have any of these lords or ladies try to coerce you to their cause."
"But Grandpa, I don't even know any of them."
"No, but they all know you."
Percy glanced out to the crowd while sipping on his juice, "But who are these people."
Jon cleared his throat before whispering, "Lords and ladies of the realm. You have many of your Baratheon bannerman sat up on the right. You have the Houses Dondarrion, Lonmouth, and Estermont at the front, and all the other ones following behind them. Most of them have been loyal to your father and had come to our aid during the war, but some did not, so remember that."
The prince nodded, "And the others?"
"The Lannisters and their bannerman are sat in the middle. Lord Tywin's brothers are at the front, Tygett, Kevin, and Gerion Lannister. You've seen Ser Jaime a few times; that's him sat at the forefront. Most of the bannerman are here, but I don't see House Clegane." Jon sighed, "Better they don't show. They are little loved anywhere, and after what their lord had done, it's better they remain far away from us. Any more goading, your father might actually listen to your uncle and send them all to the Wall."
Percy knew most people hid from him about what happened during the last days of the war, but he'd heard whispers around the castle. Tales of the young Targaryen princess, the same age as him, had been stabbed to death by some soldier. Her baby brother, still a babe at his mother's teats, had been crushed against a wall. After such whispers, Percy understood why his uncle had been so angry that day.
"And on the left is House Tyrell and a few of their bannerman."
"Tyrell?" asked Percy surprised, "The…the same people who were trying to take Storm's End."
Jon nodded, "Yes, the very same."
"They're here?" he asked as he glanced over to them. "Why?"
"Robert has pardoned them for their actions during the war." The Hand sighed again, "They may have laid siege to Storm's End, but it was ultimately a better alternative to a battle on the field. Had Mace Tyrell attacked your father's army from behind, we may not be feasting here today. The oaf's folly was perhaps one of our driving victories in the war."
"But still, a lot of people died in Storm's End."
Jon wrapped an arm around Percy's shoulders, "Yes, and I'm terribly sorry you had to see that, my boy. War is terrible, and while young, you've seen it firsthand. It's so terrible that we must do everything we can to prevent it from happening again, even if it means breaking bread with the same people who killed our comrades." The old man smiled, "I know this is hard to understand, but you'll learn one day."
Percy nodded, "I will."
"Someday, they may even become your staunch allies." Jon glance over at the Tyrell table, seeing Mace drunkenly nestle against his lady wife. "Mace Tyrell has children around your age. His eldest is sat to his right, Willas Tyrell, and his second son Garlan Tyrell is sat next to his brother. The youngest son, Loras Tyrell only recently had his second nameday, and he rests along with his younger sister, Margaery Tyrell, the recently born Lady of Highgarden."
"They have a lot of children," noticed Percy.
Jon laughed, "Yes, they do. If the gods are good, I hope your father and stepmother will have plenty of children as well." Percy looked up at Jon, "Surprised? Someday soon, you may become an older brother. You'll have to protect the younger stags."
Perseus smiled, "I want a little sister. I already have Uncle Renly, Jon and Robb, so a girl would be nice."
"Yes," said Jon, "I'd like to see that as well."
"It's important for great houses to have many children. The strongest alliances in the realm are forged by marriage and blood-ties, so your father will need many children to marry into other families."
"So, I'll have to marry someone like that as well?"
"Someday, yes, but you are a little different." Percy sipped on his juice as he listened, "You are the Crown Prince and will be the next King. Whomever you choose as your wife will become the next Queen of Westeros. Like your father is doing now, you must choose a woman with the right family name. Your father's marriage with your stepmother will align us with House Lannister, one of the most powerful and richest families in Westeros. When you marry, you'll align us with another powerful family."
"There are but a few choices; there are only a few great houses in Westeros that can match up to the Baratheon name, especially now that you are royalty." Jon sat back in thought, "Prince Doran of Dorne has a daughter only a few years older than you, but our relations with them are strained at best. Perhaps a marriage between us can bring them back into the fold, but unlikely at the moment. The Lord of the Iron Islands has the daughter as well, also a few years older than you, but they are less desirable as far as resources go."
"This sounds really complicated."
"Yes, it is," replied Jon with a chuckle. "As much as I want you to marry a girl from the Vale, we don't have many choices there at the moment. You can also marry daughters of close bannerman, both in the Stormland and the North. Hell, perhaps your Uncle Ned will have a daughter in a few years and you can marry her. There is nothing your father wants more than to have closer relations with the Starks, and your I'm sure Ned would love the idea as well. Not to mention that she would also be a daughter connected to House Tully, so that would tie the Riverlands even closer to us."
Percy tiled his head, "But that would make her my cousin. Is that allowed?"
"It's very common among nobility, Percy."
"Yes, but ultimately, there is only one family that would be worthy of you." Jon tilted his head over to the left, "House Tyrell."
Percy's eyes widened, "Them?"
"Yes, they are the second richest family in Westeros and has by far the largest army. They also own the most fertile lands in Westeros. It would be a boon for the royal family to welcome them into the family." Jon chuckled and looked over to the sleeping babe, Margaery Tyrell. "That sleeping babe there could very well be your future bride, Percy."
"Will I get a choice when I'm older."
"Of course, you would, and I'm sure you'll make the correct choice when the time comes."
Percy groaned, "I'm glad I don't have to make a choice until I'm older."
Jon laughed, "Enjoy your adolescence, Percy. It will be over before you know it."
Looking over at the sleep Margaery Tyrell, the prince sighed, "I understand."
As Ser Barristan had said, the tourney will last at least three days, and Percy couldn't wait for it to be over. It took nearly a day for the riders to filter through the city gates, and even longer for the commonfolk to gather around the city. Lords and knights, too many for Percy to count, much less remember, had made the rounds towards his father and new stepmother, all extolling praises and prayer to gods. It wasn't until late afternoon that the melee had started, and only then did Jon suggest that he was too young to witness such carnage and had sat up far behind with Renly.
Now, by the setting sun, Percy slept against his large chair.
"Percy, wake up!"
The prince groaned, "Shut it, uncle."
"That knight's helmet got crushed!" Renly for once was more excited than Percy and had nearly climbed atop their table for a better view. "The minstrels are going to sing about today!"
"Then it would be the most boring song to ever be sung," muttered Percy as he snuggled to the side of his seat.
"And here I thought my nephew likes fighting."
"I love fighting when I'm fighting, not when other people are fighting far away."
"You're no fun at all today." Renly downed another cup of stolen wine, grinning at the spectacle and loud colors.
"I'm not going to be fun until this whole tourney is over."
Renly raised a brow, "So, you're going to sleep for another two days?"
And so, the prince did sleep through most of the tourney. Jon had deemed even the joust as too dangerous and potentially bloody for the young boys and had basically banished them to the very end of the viewing pavilion. For two days all Percy could see were the heads of other people blocking the view, with only the loud cheering and the incessant boasting from Renly of being a few inches taller and could see better. Far more than once had Percy wanted to kick Renly off the table, but calmer thoughts prevailed.
It was finally by the end of the third day, on the eve of the Royal Wedding, did Percy have some semblance of fun.
"Uncle Stannis!" The prince grinned as his second favourite uncle sat down next to him. "Where have you been? The tourney is almost over!"
Stannis gave his nephew a small smile, "I was overlooking the final construction of the new Royal Fleet. The final touches are being completed and all the galleys are now ready to set sail."
"Are you going to leave soon," asked Percy worried.
"I'll leave the morning after the wedding. It will be about a two-day journey to Dragonstone if the winds are with us, so I should be back soon." Stannis looked ahead into the crowd, "I don't think the last of Targaryens will have a large fleet or force. I should be able to break them rather quickly."
"What will you do with them?" asked the prince, "The Targaryens."
"I'll take them back alive. Your father will decide on what to do with them."
"Be careful, Uncle Stannis."
The older Baratheon smiled and patted Percy's shoulder, "I will, nephew. You as well. When I'm not here, listen to Lord Arryn well. Don't let anyone order you around except for him and your father. You will see a lot of new faces around, all golden haired and green eyed. Do not be afraid of them; you are a Baratheon and the Crown Prince. If anyone, I mean anyone dare to speak against you, let your father or Lord Arryn know. They will see them punished."
"The Lannisters have been kind to me so far."
"Yes, I assume they have been. The lion does not stir until they see meat." Stannis leaned close to his nephew, almost whispering, "As long as we are strong and united, we will be safe. The moment we show weakness, the instant they think we are weak enough to attack, they will. That I have no doubt." Percy stared at his uncle as he spoke. "The lion likes to hide in the grass, waiting for the opportunity to pounce. We must never give them that opportunity."
"What can I do, uncle?"
"Nothing right now; you are still too young, Percy." Stannis sat tall, "Bide your time. Train with Ser Barristan and become a warrior. Learn from your teachers and become wise. No one can ever deny your right to the throne, and no one ever will if you don't give them the reason." He smiled at his nephew, "You've been doing well so far. Just keep working hard and you'll be fine."
Percy nodded, "I will, uncle."
"I know you will."
The Great Sept of Baelor was an imposing sight. Standing proud atop of Visenya's Hill, the was a marble edifice that rivaled the majesty of the Red keep. Through its large, heavy double doors, high lords and ladies stood under the towering statues of the Seven, scuttling around the marble floors with whispers and giggles. The High Septon, with his heavy robes tightly wrapped around his plump body, stood sweating as the crowd slowing aligned to the sides.
Prince Perseus Baratheon stood near the front, forced to see the High Septon wording to himself as he paced back and forth. Stannis and Renly Baratheon stood next to him, and all three were dressed in Baratheon gold and black. Opposite Percy on the other side of the aisle stood Jon Arryn, acting as both the Hand of the King and Father of the King.
Beyond his loved ones, Percy once again saw the Tyrells further back behind his Grandpa Jon. Mace Tyrell still seemed red and half in his cups, leaning to one side and against his wife. His sons stood beside him, and if they were ever embarrassed by their father, they did not show it. Percy did hear a baby cry a short while ago, and he wondered if it was young Lady Margaery, who was still held in the arms of her eldest brother.
But more imposing was the sight of Tywin Lannister, who stood at the very back of the sept, awaiting his daughter. The Old Lion did not smile, not even on his daughter's wedding day. Percy couldn't help but wonder if the man was ever happy; it certainly did not look like it.
Looking back to the front, Percy saw his father, standing at the end of the aisle, directly under the Father's statue. The King was wearing his formal armor, a hulking build ornate with streaks of gold beaten into the black steel. His ceremonial sword rested by his side and looked much less fitting than his warhammer. Adorn his head was his crown, a golden crusted marvel studded with black diamonds, fitting of the first Baratheon King of the Seven Kingdoms.
But he looked solemn.
Robert saw his son staring at him and smiled, but Percy saw that it did not reach his eyes.
Then the bells tolled and the bride appeared. Dressed even more ornate than before, Cersei Lannister was led by her lord father into the sept. Rows of singers heralded her entrance, and the crowd was in awe at the sight of her beauty. Dressed completely in gold and red, she was every inch the Lion of Lannister. Proud and tall, she made her way to the King.
"We are gathered here today…"
The High Septon droned on as Percy watched his father stand next to his new stepmother. It was after a long rant that the King had removed the heavy Lannister cloak from his bride and replaced it with an equally heavy Baratheon cloak, black and gold and crowned.
"With this kiss I pledge my love," his father said, "and take you for my lady and wife"
Cersei smiled, "and take you for my lord and husband."
They King and Queen's lips met in the middle and a hushed cheer broke through in the gathered crowd. Percy saw the small smile on the new queen's face as she pulled away, looking at his father with adoration, but he saw no smile on the king's face. Percy had seen his father happy. Whenever he and his mother would embrace and kiss, Percy saw in his father a happiness that could brighten the darkest day. His lips would part and eyes disappear, and the joy would overflow from him, but the last time he'd seen his father smile like that was before his mother's death.
The High Septon's voice boomed, "And now they are one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever"
The cheers finally broke free and the room came alive with praise. Percy clapped along with his uncles and grandpa, along with old enemies and allies, but couldn't help but look to his father. He still wasn't smiling, and Percy could only hope that he would again one day.
Unknown to all, miles away, the birth of another stormborn child was here, and the sunny skies will soon vanish and the storm will gather.
…He stood in the eye of the storm and the world shattered around him. From him the winds broke mountains, lightning shattered islands, and volcanos ruptured. By ice and wind, the world will kneel. Before him, all was torn asunder. He stood at the top and centermost, commanding all below with the force of nature, and all broke before his storm.
There stood the Storm God.
He had awoken and his powers shall once again reshape the world.
Perseus, the last Storm God had been born and now awaits the birth of the other. With this storm, one to shake the foundations of the world, shall herald the birth of the other stormborn, a Goddess of Fire and Blood.
By their Ice and Fire shall be born a new world.
That's the end of Chapter 2.
It has been a while since I've had such flow. For a long time, I've been struggling to put words onto paper, and this story has briefly allowed me a respite from that. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. These first introductory chapters are meant to build the world to come, so it is not as impactful as the ones to come.
Please let me know what you think and leave me a review.
Thank you for reading.