Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos

"Never trust in luck. Behind it, there is always someone profiting from your misfortune." Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin.

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Tyrion had never heard a roar like that. It wasn't just a cry of rage, but the roar of a wounded animal, consumed by hatred. The sound sent shivers through his body. At that moment, Robert I Baratheon did indeed sound like a king.

"Calm down, Robert. We need to keep a cool head to deal with what's coming."

Jon Arryn approached the king quickly, his presence and words having an immediate effect. Robert's mood began to stabilize, and he stopped wheezing with rage. This eased, if only slightly, the suffocating tension that hung over the Small Council Chamber.

Tywin, impassive, turned to Pycelle and asked in a regal tone:

"What are the chances of us getting a clear shot, as Dorne has in the past?"

Pycelle, still pretending to be a frail and feeble old man, replied in his usual trembling voice:

"The Order has carried out some experiments. They were conducted about eighty years after the event, launching ten thousand scorpions at a target fixed a thousand meters high and motionless. In the end, none of them hit the target."

No one questioned why the Order of the Maesters conducted such suspicious experiments just when House Targaryen was still at its peak. But the numbers made one thing clear: Dorne had been incredibly lucky to land that fatal shot on a dragon.

(Note: This is one of the reasons why I find Rhaegal's death completely unrealistic and stupid. Precision rifle bullets already lose their effectiveness at great distances, let alone a giant medieval beast. Rhaegal's death was clearly inserted just to justify Dany burning down King's Landing).

"This means that even if we fill the walls with scorpions, the chances of killing a dragon are still extremely low."

Renly Baratheon broke the silence with a comment full of concern. The fear in his eyes was evident, and understandable. After all, House Baratheon had been the main driving force behind the fall of the Targaryens. If there was one family that would be reduced to ashes first, it was his.

"We're lucky the Targaryen prince doesn't have his grandfather's madness."

Tyrion swirled the wine in his goblet before taking a sip and continuing.

"If it were the other way around, the Red Keep would have become the second Harrenhal by now."

Although Tywin Lannister despised his youngest son, he couldn't help but agree with that statement. The thought of Aerys with a dragon sent shivers down his spine.

"If I may say so," Tyrion continued, setting his goblet down on the table. "We need to strengthen the ties between House Baratheon and the Great Houses."

Many nodded immediately. There was no alternative. This was the most essential step at that moment.

No one doubted that, at this very moment, many noble houses were preparing to fight the Baratheons alongside Prince Targaryen. The threat of destruction was enough to bend even the proudest. For many, the return of the dragons was divine punishment for Robert Baratheon killing his own kin.

Murderers of kin must always receive punishment from the gods.

"Marrying Prince Joffrey to Lady Margaery Tyrell could bring House Tyrell to the side of the Crown."

Petyr, known as Littlefinger, said with a smile on his lips, his eyes narrowing into a thoughtful look.

"Tyrell?" Tyrion let out a short but humorless laugh. "They'll be the first to ally themselves with Prince Targaryen. Add to that the hatred of House Martell, and we have two Great Houses as enemies."

The dwarf took a sip of wine, eyeing Littlefinger suspiciously. There had always been something about him that made it impossible to trust him completely.

"Two Great Houses," Tyrion continued, "with armies that together amount to hundreds of thousands of soldiers. Add to that Prince Targaryen's forty thousand men and a dragon capable of incinerating entire armies in minutes. Not to mention that the Tyrells are the kingdom's granary, with plenty of food to sustain their troops for as long as they want."

"We could invite them to King's Landing and take them hostage."

Cersei spoke casually, as if she had solved the problem with a snap of her fingers.

The silence that followed was almost comical. Everyone in the room exchanged glances before simply ignoring her suggestion. If something like this was so easy, other Great Houses would have been brought down long ago with this cheap trick.

The break in the silence came from Tywin, who until then had watched everything without saying a word.

"I will hire assassins from the House of Black and White in Braavos."

This time, the silence that spread through the Small Council Chamber was different.

Everyone knew what that meant.

Hiring an assassin of that order was already absurdly expensive. Hiring one to kill a Dragonlord was even more expensive. Hiring one to kill a Dragonlord in a city protected by religious and political fanatics was beyond any imaginable price.

And only two people in that room had enough wealth to afford such a thing.

Tywin Lannister.

And Littlefinger.

The latter, thanks to years of fraud and embezzlement in the kingdom's finances, had amassed a fortune that could rival that of a Great House. But nobody knew about it, and they were unlikely to in the future.

Robert, who until then had listened to everything in silence, looked around the table.

The only ones with calm expressions were Tywin, Stannis and the Imp. The rest showed visible concern.

The king then leaned back, wiped the alcohol stains from the corner of his mouth and said in his deep voice:

"If he hasn't come to us, it means he wants to reconquer Westeros. That means he doesn't want to rule ashes, which is good news."

Robert then slammed his hand down hard on the table, his blue gaze filled with restrained fury.

"He will come to avenge his rapist father... and I will kill him, just as I killed his damned father."

The strong, powerful man who hadn't been seen since the Greyjoy Rebellion had reappeared more imposing than ever, perhaps even more so than in the war twelve years ago.

Even though he was an irresponsible king, Robert knew he had to secure the throne for his son. He had no doubt that that incestuous bastard would kill everyone related to him without any hesitation. Ensuring his children's safety was his priority, even if it meant becoming dragon food.

"Littlefinger, I don't care how, get some money and help Lord Tywin pay off the assassins. If that fails, we'll prepare for war."

Robert's order echoed with a firm and powerful tone, surprising everyone in the room.

"Yes, Your Grace."

Littlefinger smiled, trying hard to be serious, but deep down, he could already see the opportunities looming before him.

Jon Arryn sighed. How he wished this Robert had been awake all the time. But he knew that this moment of lucidity would be fleeting. His eyes turned to the queen, who remained impassive, her gaze deep and calculating.

The investigations of the last few months had revealed frightening truths, truths that would have terrible consequences for the whole of Westeros. Now, with Prince Targaryen on the other side of the sea, the situation was taking an even darker turn.

"Eunuch, send a message to Ned explaining everything."

Robert turned to Varys, his voice filled with authority.

"I'll do as you say, Your Grace."

The eunuch's gentle smile didn't convince Tyrion for a second.

The dwarf watched in silence as the most powerful men in the Seven Kingdoms were wary of a young man who hadn't even turned thirteen. That said a lot about the world they lived in.

Perhaps it was time to run far away. The scales of war were definitely not tipping in favor of the Lannisters or the Baratheons. Both seemed destined to burn under the flames of a dragon.

He drank the rest of his wine and, as he lowered the goblet, he felt a piercing gaze upon him. His father.

Tywin Lannister's cold gaze sent a shiver down his spine.

"Your Grace."

His father's voice sounded exactly as Tyrion had feared.

Robert raised an eyebrow, confused.

"To ensure that our enemy sponsors his own war, we need the Iron Bank not to support Prince Targaryen. Or, at the very least, to remain neutral."

Tywin's voice was icy, impassive.

Tyrion immediately understood.

If the Iron Bank chose sides, it could define the war before it even began.

Robert frowned. He didn't like to think about these things, but he knew Tywin was right.

"Who do you suggest goes to Braavos?"

Tywin didn't hesitate.

"Although my son is physically unfit, his intelligence is unquestionable."

At any other time, Tyrion would have been thrilled to hear his father acknowledge his intelligence.

Now, all he felt was a shiver of dread.

Braavos.

The continent of Essos was undoubtedly the most dangerous place in the world at the moment. Even the Free Cities, powerful as they were, didn't dare raise their voices when a Dragonlord from Valyria landed in their harbors with a dragon.

Even less so now that all the Free Cities' old anti-dragon weapons had been corroded by time.

If the information that Tyrion Lannister was in Essos leaked out, his fate would be sealed.

Good move, Father. You don't have the guts to kill me... so you want others to do it for you.

Tyrion smiled. But inside, he felt the pain of a pawn about to be sacrificed on the board of a much bigger game.

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