[47] A Pact of Thrones

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I stood amid the Northern host in a wide, candlelit tent, the flap stirring in a cold breeze that sent shadows flickering across the canvas walls. The slow breathing of a sleeping dragon could be heard coming from outside as I faced the lords with my chin raised high.

My wrists were no longer bound, but every stern-eyed guard and glowering lord around me reminded me that I was still very much a stranger in their midst—a dragon among wolves. It was amusing, knowing they could do shit not to me.

Alone, I might have been in some danger. But with Viserion outside? I truly enjoyed the benefits that just the sheer presence of my dragon brought.

In the center of it all, Robb Stark glared at me from behind a rough-hewn war table. The King in the North looked as I remembered him from the TV Show, a wolf’s tension in his stance, the harsh lines of command etched into his face, even if he was still too young for that burden. His sword rested on the table, unsheathed but set aside, an unsaid threat that this meeting could turn violent at any moment.

To his right sat Catelyn Stark, her fingers laced tight before her, eyes flicking between her son and me. Sansa sat on my left side, uneasy but resolute, as if her mere presence might shield me from the lords’ hostility. “You should sit beside your brother,” I leaned to her and whispered. “It’s not a good look on him in front of his lords.”

“...Alright,” she nodded and stood up, walking around to sit in an empty chair close to Robb. Everyone watched her do that and turned their heads back to me. Around the circle, a handful of grim-faced bannermen, Lord Bolton, Lord Umber, and others, observed in rigid silence.

When everyone was sitting, and the silence began to grow uncomfortable, Robb spoke, voice tight, carrying the weight of a war behind it. “You claim to be Viserys Targaryen. I can’t find myself doubting you, for you’ve come here with a dragon.” His gaze flicked to Sansa briefly, then pinned me. “Why come here to the North? We hold no love for your family, not since your father burned my grandfather and uncle. Make no mistake, I am grateful that you’ve returned my sister home. But for what? You must want something.”

I scoffed at the mention of my father’s sins. “Firstly, I make no defense of King Aerys’ atrocities,” I said evenly, letting my gaze sweep the gathered lords. “He wronged many, worse than mere words can repair. The thing is, he wronged even his own children.”

The lords exchanged glances, and the older ones knew what I meant. I continued, “He felt threatened by my brother, Rhaeger, suspecting him to overthrow him and take the realm for himself, which was a stupid worry given that Rhaeger was the heir. Indeed, he was mad. But I am not him. I’m no Mad King. And I’m not here to claim the North if that’s your fear.”

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You land in my camp—uninvited—bearing the name Targaryen, wearing Rhaegar’s visage, and you talk of peace? Why?”

“You’re a military genius, I’ll grant you that, but it seems you’re still a boy wet behind the ears when it comes to politics,” I said, and in response, Lord Karstark shot up, sword at hand.

“Watch your mouth, Beggar King! You cannot insult our King inside his camp!” he shouted, and I just smirked, eyeing him.

“How loyal the northernmen are. I happen to pick up some gossip from the camp that Lady Catelyn here released Jamie Lannister, which resulted in the death of your son? Despite that, you’re so loyal to him,” I said, and a silent fell on the tent. Robb clenched his jaw while Catelyn lowered her head.

They must be wondering how I’d heard such gossip when I was cuffed inside this tent. Their eyes naturally flicked to Sansa, but even she looked confused. She hadn’t heard about that yet. The truth was, I did indeed pick it up from gossip—my ears could hear more than a normal man. Not something like Marvel’s Daredevil, for example, but enough.

Lord Karstark sat down, and I smiled. “I’m not here to insult you, Robb. While it’s true that our fathers had some bad blood, our ancestors didn’t. The previous King in the North was the only king to submit to Aegon without the need for war. People call him the King Who Knelt, but I'd call him the King Who Cared. He chose what was best for his people, even though he knew people might mock him for it. And guess what, his choice was right for three hundred years.”

“...What are you getting at?”

“I’m getting at the enemy in the south,” I replied, “one that threatens us both. The Iron Throne is held by the Lannisters, perched on a shaky claim, with no right except force and fear. I come seeking allies to make that child-king kneel.”

From the corner, I felt Lord Bolton’s cold eyes on me. “And we’re to believe you’d do any better, Targaryen? We’ve not forgotten the dragonfire of old.”

I met that pale glare without flinching. “You’ve not seen the dragonfire of old, Lord Bolton. Otherwise, you'd have taken the knee the moment you saw my dragon.”

“....”

“What you saw was wildfire, a failure of an alternative to dragon fire. Now imagine the real flames, except they burn for your cause. We'll be allies, and we'll end this war real fast. Imagine a few months from now, with the realm united under one crown, when winter comes but is salvaged by Tyrell’s harvest, and the North thrives as an ally?”

“The Tyrells?”

I smiled. “Dorne and the Reach are already in alliance with me. What, you thought I didn’t have an army? The 50 thousand dornishmen, and 100 thousand reachmen are ready. The Martells and the Tyrells are ready to come to my aid when I think the time is right,” I yanked out two envelopes from my Inventory and placed them before Robb. He took them, and a moment later, his eyes widened. He passed it through the other lords.

A hush fell as the northern lords realized I wasn’t here to beg but simply include them in an already grand war to come. Robb pressed his lips together, but Sansa ventured, voice trembling with conviction, “He saved me, brother. He's going to be a far better king than Joffrey, trust me. All my lord here, even if you don’t trust a lady’s word, think about it.. is it not better to be friends with the world's sole dragon rider, than be enemies?”

Robb’s expression softened a fraction at her plea, then hardened once more as he scowled at me. “Say we overthrow the Lannisters together. What becomes of House Stark? Of the North? The North crowned me King to break from Southern tyranny. Are we expected to kneel again?”

I suppressed a faint smile at his bluntness. Good, a direct question. “I have no desire to chain the North,” I said calmly. “Stay King in the North if that’s your people’s will. Let them hail you as their sovereign, free from interference. Dorne has always been independent, even if we do say seven kingdoms in our saying. You don't have to come under me. I'm not interested in the poor lands of the North. All I ask is your support for my rightful claim to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Let the south be mine—and let the north remain yours.”

A quiet murmur rippled through the lords. Catelyn’s face flicked with both relief and alarm as if the notion of separate thrones felt impossible to her. Sansa exhaled, eyes darting between Robb and me.

“...And you expect us to trust that once you sit on the Iron Throne, you won’t set your dragon upon us after all?” A moment later, Robb demanded, though the anger in his voice had cooled to a suspicious wariness.

Alright, maybe he's not dumb in politics. Just inexperienced. I inclined my head, placing my hands flat on the table in a show of candor. “I won’t deny our alliance will hinge on trust. But trust me, I realize how loyal the North is to House Stark. I've just seen that with my own eyes earlier,” I shot a glance at Lord Karstark. Then I let my eyes rest on Sansa briefly before looking back at Robb. “Plus, there are ways to strengthen our alliance. I shall not speak of it now, but we can always consider it in the future.”

Sansa blinked, and color covered her cheeks as she lowered her head. I ignored her. I didn't have to approach House Stark with the marriage route, as I'd done with Tyrells. They'd help me regardless.

As for what I said… part of it was a lie.

The Targaryen in me wouldn't be satisfied unless I bring all the kingdoms to their knees.

But yes, I wouldn’t attack them with Viserion right after we win. Because when the Night King would come, the Northern Lords would beg me to save them. There'd be lots of opportunities to reclaim the North once I get the throne, and honestly, I truly wasn't interested in claiming it now when it was right in the face of a zombie apocalypse

For a moment, the tent was so silent that I could hear Viserion's distant snort again, waiting outside. Robb seemed to weigh my words. Around him, the Northern lords shifted, unsure if they dared interrupt or speak.

Finally, Robb looked over his lords. A silent conversion unfolded within their eyes as the lords nodded individually. Nobody, not even one, remained uncertain. Robb sighed and looked at his mother. She looked reluctant, her eyes full of grudges, but she nodded as she looked at Sansa.

She must be having a hard time agreeing to all this, given her to-be husband had died to my father. I considered what the Mother Wolf must be feeling, while Rob made a decision.

Robb turned to me and nodded once, curtly. “As King in the North, I shall accept your alliance proposal, King Viserys.” His tone conveyed finality as he stood up and reached out a hand.

I allowed myself a measured smile. “I’m glad to hear that,” I stood, taking his hand and shaking it. “Let us talk terms, Wolf King, and carve a path forward without more needless bloodshed.”

With that, the makeshift negotiation table stood ready for planning war strategies.

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