Woosh!
"I love flying! Woohoo~"
Lyanna Baratheon-Targaryen approached the newly completed platforms on top of the Red Keep's many towers, built for easy access and landing of dragons.
Her beloved steed, Drogon the Black Giant, masterfully glided on top of the platform and landed softly, avoiding any harm to the new structure, as if fully conscious that it could break under his heavy weight. He'd grown the biggest amongst his siblings, Viserion and Rhaegal. In fact, he was the biggest dragon in the recorded history of dragons, surpassing Balerion the Dread by a few inches.
"Don't be naughty, Drogon." Lyanna, just one-and-ten years old, kissed Drogon on the massive snout that eclipsed her by a few thousand times. The dragon, seemingly fond of his rider, exhaled a hot breath, ruining her silver-blonde hair. "Uh… You always do this. It's intentional, isn't it?"
"Grr…" Drogon, as if laughing, made a few noises and flew away to rest at the rebuilt Dragonpit.
Lyanna ran into the Red Keep, running down the stairs. Soon, she ran past the heavily guarded hallway and entered the fully packed throne room, rebuilt with a higher ceiling, massive gold-gilded chandeliers, and decorations dotting the ceiling and the walls, with murals of great battles fought by the world's most famous legendary figure. The walls were painted white, golden engravings made royal patterns, and huge flags hung in the form of curtains against each pillar.
This was the peak of the Baratheon-Targaryen imperial dynasty.
"Grandpa!" Lyanna ran all the way to the humongous Iron Throne, which no longer resembled its name, however. The first Emperor of the dynasty had the entire throne rebuilt, with each sword coated in real gold, which made the throne not only bigger, taller but also softer and imposing.
Furthermore, there were twenty spears spread on the sides of the massive throne, ten on each side. The spears each had a skeleton hanging from the tip. The skeletons belonged to the generals defeated by the first Emperor to take over Essos. Now, the twenty spears represented the twenty regions Essos was divided into.
"Lyanna! Hah, there's the little troublemaker!" The old man sitting on the throne rose up and hugged the little girl, quickly pulling her onto his lap. "How is Drogon treating you?"
"He's like a big cat, Grandpa. He's very sweet." Lyanna detailed her day, having only recently bonded with the massive dragon. "How's your back ache, Grandpa?"
"Ah…" The Emperor, Jaime Baratheon-Targaryen, awkwardly sighed. Decades of military campaigns in Essos to suppress rebellions hadn't been kind to his old body. At just sixty, he resembled a man in his eighties. He was still as tall as a mountain but had grown thin. "I'm getting by. What brings you here? The court is in session."
The many nobles and commoners were standing there awkwardly, watching the most powerful man in the world be treated like a common neighborhood grandpa. Even the old men there couldn't help feeling jealous of the little girl.
"I came to hear that story—Old Grandpa's story, yes! Mother says I should learn from you more!"
Hearing that, the entire court became quiet, all eyes and ears on the Emperor, as if eager to listen to that story too. Who wouldn't want to hear about the god-like figure of the dynasty, the first Emperor, Joffrey Baratheon, straight from the mouth of the great-grandson?
"Hmh…" Emperor Jaime noticed the gazes. "Court is adjourned for an hour. I'm an old man; give me some time with my granddaughter."
Thud!
Thud!
Quickly, twenty Kingsguards stepped forward and guided the nobles and commoners out of the throne room. With that, the Emperor and his beloved granddaughter sat alone on the throne. Soon, a servant brought over fruits, wine, and a thick book.
"This makes the fifth time you've heard this tale, my dear," Emperor Jaime said, opening the thick tome. "A Maester by the name of Samwell Tarly compiled it. It has every detail of Emperor Joffrey Baratheon's life, from his controversial birth to his reign, and finally, to the moment of his end."
"Yes, yes!" Lyanna bobbed her head, her purple eyes gleaming. "Maester Samwell hid in Craster's Keep when Jon Snow turned into a White Walker and destroyed the Night's Watch."
"Correct! If you know that already, why hear that story? How about I tell you my story?"
"No! I wanna hear about Old Grandpa! Old Grandpa's the only one who wasn't Valyrian and still rode Drogon! Tell me about that!"
The Emperor scratched his head and sighed. He knew from the beginning that no new Emperor would ever be able to surpass the actions of the first. "What's there to say? The Emperor and Drogon, they simply became... friends. Empress Daenerys, bless her heart, was like a mother to that beast. So it stands to reason the dragon would see the Emperor as its father. Such is the way of things, I suppose."
Finally, the Emperor turned the page and started telling her about the first Emperor. From his birth to the death of Robert Baratheon, the death of Eddard Stark, then the events leading to the fight against the Night King.
One of the reasons he didn't like to read that story again and again was how small it made him feel. In his sixty years of life, he'd achieved barely anything of that level. The world was handed over to him on a silver platter. He just had to rule it.
"Hehe, I heard Old Grandpa had many wives?"
"Where did you hear that?"
"From Mother."
"Ah… She should be careful. Well, the Emperor only had two wives; that's the allowed legal limit. Daenerys Targaryen and Sansa Stark were their names. Beyond that, he designated Catelyn Stark, Arya Stark, and Val of the Wildlings as Princess-Wives, not technically wives but royally recognized. With Daenerys, he had three sons and three daughters. From Sansa, he had four daughters and two sons; from Catelyn Stark, he had two sons and one daughter; from Arya Stark, he had a son and a daughter, and with Val, he had one daughter and five sons."
"That many?" Lyanna tried to count on her fingers, but ran out of fingers to count.
What a man. Emperor Jaime admired his ancestor. I couldn't even handle two.
"Furthermore, it's said that he had two children with Lady Taena of Myr. Well, let's just say he was very adventurous. Currently, everyone in Westeros is somehow related to Emperor Joffrey's blood. Go to any noble house, and they'll start rambling about how Emperor Joffrey was their great-grand-uncle or something—In any case, after the victory over the Night King, Emperor Joffrey prepared for a whole year to invade Essos.
"He set his sight on Braavos first and took it down with ease. Using his grand Navy, he blocked their sea, and using his Land army stationed in Slaver's Bay, he surrounded them from their East. After that, he simply burned half of the city down, including the Iron Bank. He ransacked the city, took all its gold, and then magnanimously used that same gold to reestablish the city as the Westerosi Empire's Western Essosi capital."
That mad man—creating a problem and then gifting its solution.
"The other cities fell like a house of cards. For 3 whole years, Emperor Joffrey did not return home, putting his full trust in his queens, Sansa and Daenerys's leadership. Lorath, Norvos, Pentos were conquered. Myr surrendered. Qohor was burned to the ground for refusing to surrender and daring to put up a fight. Volantis willingly opened its gates to welcome him, championing him as the prophesied Azor Ahai. Once he had the Western Essos under his control, he launched a two-sided attack on the other cities of Slaver's Bay, such as Mantarys, Tolos, and Elyria.
"Deeming those places unholy, filled with disease and deformities, they were burned to the ground, leaving them in no better state than Valyria."
Speaking so much, Emperor Jaime took a deep breath and sipped some wine. He looked at his granddaughter. She didn't seem bored at all. Her eyes constantly looked at the book, at the many war maps drawn on the pages.
How did he do all that? Was he really blessed by the Seven?
"After that, King Joffrey returned home to his beloved queens, spending two years with them, siring a great many children. Using that time, he enhanced his military, strengthened his hold on what he'd conquered, and expanded the navy to more than twenty thousand vessels. By then, gold flowed into Westeros like water. While nobility was in decline and smallfolk grew richer, the few remaining great noble houses titled Emperor Joffrey as God Emperor, a title that Emperor Joffrey never used or acknowledged.
"In those days, it wasn't rare for nobles to bring their beautiful daughters to the court and offer them, hoping the Emperor would like their beauty and give her a child—The nobles didn't consider the King's seed as bastards, but rather blessings. In some extreme cases, some nobles even brought their prized wives as offerings. But no records state he ever took one, but a record does state that such an offer offended the Emperor enough that he chose to simply eradicate the noble house… Ah… Seven Hells… I shouldn't be talking about that."
He looked at Lyanna to see if she had any questions. Thankfully, she didn't react.
"After two years, he returned to conquer the rest of Essos. Qarth was famous for its warlocks, especially their House of the Undying. But they stood no chance. The Westerosi and Qarthi records state that the Emperor personally walked into the city, all alone, and torched the House of the Undying from within, just as Empress Daenerys had done once. But Emperor Joffrey went a step further and hunted down each Warlock and beheaded them. Somehow, no magic worked on the Emperor.
"But after Qarth, Emperor Joffrey was as if cursed. When he launched his subjugation of Yi Ti, everything started to go wrong. Emperor Joffrey fell sick, barely able to walk. His uncle, Ser Jaime, died in a battle. Princess-Wife Val, who was also a Kingsguard, was captured by the Emperor of Yi Ti. Funnily, a self-anointed God Emperor ruled that land.
"But when Emperor Joffrey learned of Princess-Wife Val's capture, he seemingly went into a rage. He locked himself in the Great Sept of Baelor for one year. When he came out, he was as healthy as ever. He then relaunched his attack on Yi Ti, this time pouring everything into it. The records say that he personally beheaded three hundred concubines of the Emperor of Yi Ti, also over a thousand of his sons and daughters, and finally, he skinned the Emperor, tied him to the front of his flagship, Golden Lion, and went to every shore city of Yi Ti with the so called God Emperor wailing. Sadly, Princess-Wife Val had been crippled by the time she was saved. But still, she was loved and cared for by Joffrey till her dying breath."
"Wait! What about this part?" Lyanna pointed at the inland cities of the continent. "Old Grandpa only used ships?"
"Hah—No, he was just too smart. Emperor Joffrey focused all his attacks on the cities reachable by the sea for the first fifty years of his rule. By then, his sons and daughters were old enough to ride new dragons and take them to war. He even had grandchildren by then. So, once he had enough dragons, he used them to conquer the island cities of Essos."
"Woah…" Lyanna just imagined multiple dragons flying in formation and raining fire. She imagined her Drogon taking part in it. "Great-Grandpa was amazing."
Don't hurt your old man's pride now, girl.
Sighing, Emperor Jaime caressed her hair. "Well, there's also Asshai, as big as Volantis, Qarth, King's Landing, and Oldtown combined. That was the only place Emperor Joffrey refused to invade. Dragons would refuse to enter those dark lands, filled with vile magic and glowing rivers. But Emperor Joffrey did walk in there with the Red Priestess Melisandre. This is one dark spot in the records. Nobody knows what happened in Asshai, but when he came out, the city had willingly surrendered and named Emperor Joffrey as their ruler, and willingly agreed to pay annual taxation—With that, his conquest of Essos was almost done. By then, he was in his late sixties. He had to return to King's Landing because Empress Sansa was on her deathbed.
"He spent time with Empress Sansa during her last days and personally performed her funeral. Months later, Empress Daenerys also fell sick and left this world. Surprisingly, it was Princess-Wife Catelyn who lived the longest, outlasting even Arya. Eventually, she passed away, too. At seventy, Emperor Joffrey was left alone with hundreds of trueborn sons, daughters, grandkids, and great-grandkids—I was one of those Great-Grandkids. I still remember his gaze locking with mine; my legs shuddered, and I fell in fright. He was too imposing with his long beard and hair; even at seventy, he looked like a fighter in his prime. Some say he was blessed, but I believe he was cursed."
"Why is that?" Lyanna asked, seeing sorrow on her grandpa's face.
That was the real him. I knew what I saw.
"When I was ten, my father took me to see him on the battlefield as he was conquering the City of the Winged Men after Asshai fell and all his wives died. I saw him alone once, looking at the lone painting in his room—it had him in the middle, Empress Sansa, Empress Daenerys, Arya, Catelyn, and Val, all young. He stared at the painting for more than an hour without moving. When I asked him if he was tired and wanted to rest, he smiled and said, 'I can't, not in this life… the vow must not be broken'."
For no reason, Emperor Jaime's eyes became heavy. He quickly wiped them, masking the motion by fixing his hair. He still vividly remembered the emotions of his Great-Grandfather from that day. There was something deeper going on that the world would never know.
"What vow, Grandpa?"
"Who knows, but I think it's this…" Emperor Jaime turned the book to its last page, where two entire pages occupied the map of Westeros and Essos combined. The two continents were marked with massive, seven-pointed stars. "Old Joffrey is the reason why the whole world's prime religion now is the Faith of the Seven."
Lyanna traced her little hand on the map. "And… How did Grandpa die?"
"That's why I say he was cursed. At eighty-one, he suddenly halted his conquest of Ibben and flew back home on Drogon. After Queen Daenerys's passing, Drogon only stayed beside the Emperor and listened to him. I remember that day, the last time I saw him. He called the small council, sent me and my siblings to gather Lord Stark, Lord Lannister, Lord Baratheon, and Lord Martell on our dragons.
"He was so strong even at that age. We thought he wanted to plot a new conquest. But once we all gathered in the Throne Room, he announced his abdication, gave the crown to his eldest trueborn son, Aurelion, then gave a speech on how proud he was and that his blood must never fade, or the world will be doomed. He privately advised his son, my grandfather, on how to conquer the rest of the lands and then…"
Emperor Jaime choked up for a moment.
What kind of man was he? So mysterious. Nothing about him makes sense.
"Then what?" Lyanna demanded excitedly.
"He went to the great tomb where Empress Daenerys, Sansa, and the rest were buried. He ordered all Septons and Septas to stay outside for the night. Inside, he put a white sheet of cloth between the tombstone of Sansa and Daenerys, and went to sleep—he never woke up again."
As if he knew precisely how much time he had left to live. How?
Sniff…
"Ah… Don't cry, Lyanna."
But Lyanna wailed louder, scared that her grandpa and father would die too. Thankfully, the maids came quickly and took the little girl away.
Left alone to ponder, the old Emperor Jaime, Great Grandson of Emperor Joffrey Baratheon, closed the book.
I hope you're proud of us, old man.
He traced his fingers on the etched title on the book's cover, which were also the last words of Emperor Joffrey. Not spoken, but they were written using chalk on the marble floor where he fell asleep.
The last words, the title of the book, and the motto of House Baratheon-Targaryen.
"Fury of Ice & Fire"
________________THE END_______________
A/N: Thank you so much for reading this story, guys. It was a long ride. The Golden Lion was one of my first ever smuts. I started it in 2023, just a few months after I began writing smutfics. It's nice to see this story come to an end, and it happened with all your support.
I hope you'll enjoy the new story as well.
GOT: The Northern Tyrant