Golden Tyrant (Game of thrones/Asoiaf)

The great hall of the Red Keep was alive with noise—clinking goblets, hearty laughter, and the occasional booming voice of my father, Robert Baratheon. The long table was piled high with roasted meats, fresh bread, and flagons of wine, the air thick with the scent of food and the warmth of camaraderie. I sat at the table, my expression calm but my mind sharp, observing the dynamics of the room.

Robert sat at the head of the table, his face flushed from wine, his laughter echoing through the hall. 

Cersei sat beside him, her posture perfect, her green eyes sharp as they flicked between her children and the other guests. 

Joffrey sat across from me, his face twisted into a scowl as he picked at his food. Tommen and Myrcella sat further down the table, their eyes wide as they listened to the conversations around them.

As the meal progressed, Robert raised his goblet, his voice cutting through the noise. "A toast!" he bellowed, his words slightly slurred. "To my son, Eryx! The boy's got a sword arm like a Baratheon and a head like a Lannister. He's made me proud!"

The hall erupted into cheers and raised goblets, though I noticed the tight smile on Cersei's face and the glare Joffrey shot in my direction. I raised my own goblet, my expression humble but my eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"Thank you, Father," I said, my voice carrying easily over the noise. "I'm honored."

Robert grinned, slamming his goblet down on the table. "Honored, he says! Modest too! What do you say, boy? What reward do you want for your efforts? A new sword? A horse? Name it, and it's yours!"

Joffrey's scowl deepened, his hands clenching into fists. "Why does he get a reward?" he muttered under his breath, though no one paid him any attention.

I set my goblet down, my expression thoughtful. "Actually, Father, there is something I'd like. Something that would benefit us all."

Robert raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Oh? And what's that?"

I leaned forward slightly, my gaze steady and earnest. "I'd like to help you manage the kingdom."

The hall fell silent, the clatter of cutlery and the murmur of conversation dying away. Even Robert looked taken aback, his brow furrowing as he stared at me. "Manage the kingdom?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. "What in the seven hells for?"

I kept my expression calm, my voice measured. "I've been studying, Father. I've read about the mistakes of past rulers, the failures that led to rebellions and wars. I believe I understand what it takes to maintain our power and make the kingdom prosperous. I want to put that knowledge to use."

Robert blinked, his confusion giving way to amusement. "You want to play at ruling, do you? And what would you do, eh? Build more roads? Lower taxes?"

I allowed a small smile to curve my lips. "Among other things, yes. But more importantly, I want to unify the kingdom. Not just the Seven Kingdoms, but all of Westeros—and beyond. I want to create a realm where everyone, from the highest lord to the lowest peasant, can thrive."

The hall erupted into murmurs, the guests exchanging glances of disbelief and amusement. Joffrey let out a derisive snort, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Unify the world? What a childish dream."

But Robert didn't laugh. He studied me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the drunken haze in his eyes cleared, replaced by something sharper, more calculating. I could see the gears turning in his mind, the memories of his own younger self—the boy who had rallied an army and taken the Iron Throne.

"You're serious," Robert said, his voice quieter now. "You really believe you can do this?"

I nodded, my gaze unwavering. "I do. And I'm willing to prove it. All I ask is for your trust."

Robert leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrest. The room held its breath, waiting for his response. Finally, he let out a bark of laughter, the sound echoing through the hall.

"By the gods, boy, you've got balls, I'll give you that," he said, shaking his head. "Alright, fine. You want to play at ruling? Be my guest. I'll give you free rein to do whatever you think will make this damned kingdom better. But don't come crying to me when it all goes to hell."

I smiled, my eyes gleaming with triumph. "Thank you, Father. I won't let you down."

Cersei's lips tightened, her gaze flicking between Robert and me. She said nothing, but the tension in her posture was unmistakable. Joffrey, meanwhile, looked furious, his hands clenched so tightly around his fork that his knuckles turned white.

As the conversation resumed and the noise of the hall grew once more, I leaned back in my chair, my mind already racing with plans. I had studied everything—the strengths and weaknesses of the kingdom, the ambitions of its lords, the corruption that festered in its institutions. I knew who would support me and who would oppose me. And I had already begun to make preparations.

The game was afoot, and I was ready to play.

=======

The small council chamber was filled with an air of tension as I entered behind my father. The room fell silent, the most powerful men and women in the realm turning their attention to me. I could see the confusion in their eyes, the subtle shifts in their expressions as they tried to make sense of my presence. Varys, the Spider, sat with his hands folded, his face unreadable. Littlefinger leaned back in his chair, that infuriating smirk playing on his lips. Grand Maester Pycelle adjusted his chain nervously, while Ser Barristan stood stoically by the door. My mother, Cersei, sat at the far end of the table, her green eyes sharp and calculating.

I took my seat beside my father, my expression calm but my mind already racing. This was my moment, and I intended to make the most of it.

"Your Grace," Varys began, his voice smooth and polite. "Might I ask why Prince Eryx is joining us today?"

My father waved a hand dismissively, his tone gruff. "My son's got a head on his shoulders, and I've given him free rein to help manage the kingdom. He'll be sitting in on these meetings from now on."

The room erupted into murmurs, the council members exchanging looks of disbelief and concern. Littlefinger was the first to speak, his tone light but his words pointed. "Your Grace, with all due respect, Prince Eryx is… young. The matters we discuss here are complex and require experience."

I could see the irritation flash in my father's eyes, but I stepped in before he could respond. "I appreciate your concern, Lord Baelish," I said, my voice calm but firm. "But I assure you, I've spent my time studying the history and workings of this kingdom. I'm well aware of the challenges we face."

Cersei's lips tightened, but she said nothing, her gaze fixed on me. The other council members exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared to challenge my father further. Good. They were already on the back foot, and I hadn't even begun.

The meeting began with the usual reports. Varys spoke of unrest in the Riverlands and whispers of dissent in Dorne. Littlefinger detailed the kingdom's finances, his words laced with subtle warnings about the crown's growing debt. Pycelle droned on about the need for more maesters in the North, while Ser Barristan provided updates on the state of the royal guard.

I listened intently, my mind racing as I analyzed each report. I had studied these men and their weaknesses, their ambitions, and their secrets. I knew how to manipulate them, how to bend them to my will.

When the reports were finished, my father turned to me, his expression expectant. "Well, boy? What do you think?"

I stood, my presence commanding despite my youth. "The issues we face are not insurmountable, but they require decisive action. Let me address them one by one."

"The Riverlands are fertile and prosperous, but they've been neglected. The smallfolk are suffering, and their lords are too busy squabbling to care. We need to send envoys to mediate disputes and ensure that taxes are fair and just. A show of strength from the crown will remind them of their loyalty."

Varys raised an eyebrow, his tone cautious. "And how do you propose we mediate these disputes, my prince?"

I met his gaze, my voice steady. "By appointing impartial mediators—men and women who owe their allegiance to the crown, not to any one lord. And by ensuring that those who defy us face consequences."

I saw the flicker of unease in his eyes. He knew I was aware of his web of spies, and that it could be cut if necessary. Good. Let him wonder how much I truly knew.

"The crown's debt is a result of mismanagement and corruption. We need to audit the treasury, root out those who are lining their pockets, and renegotiate our loans with the Iron Bank. In the meantime, we can increase revenue by investing in trade and infrastructure."

Littlefinger's smirk faltered, his tone defensive. "My prince, the treasury is a complex matter. It's not as simple as—"

I cut him off, my voice cold. "I'm aware of the complexity, Lord Baelish. But I'm also aware of the games being played. If we're to restore the kingdom's finances, we need transparency—and accountability."

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He knew I had him cornered, and he wasn't foolish enough to push his luck.

"The North is vast and sparsely populated, but it's also a vital part of the kingdom. We need to establish more maesters' citadels and ensure that the smallfolk have access to education and healing. This will not only improve their lives but also strengthen their loyalty to the crown."

Pycelle nodded slowly, though his expression was wary. "A noble goal, my prince. But it will require significant resources."

I smiled thinly. "Resources that will be well spent. The North remembers, Grand Maester. It's time we gave them something worth remembering."

As I laid out my plans, I made subtle references to the council members' weaknesses and secrets. A pointed look at Varys when discussing loyalty. A veiled comment about Littlefinger's dealings with brothels and merchants. A reminder to Pycelle of his dependence on the crown's favor. Each word was carefully chosen, each glance calculated to instill fear and compliance.

By the time I finished, the room was silent, the council members visibly shaken. They had expected a boy playing at ruling, but what they found was a master strategist—one who knew their secrets and was not afraid to use them.

My father, meanwhile, looked impressed, his laughter breaking the tension. "By the gods, boy! You've got a mind like a steel trap. Alright, you've got my blessing. Do what you need to do."

I bowed my head, my expression humble but my eyes gleaming with triumph. "Thank you, Father. I won't let you down."

As the meeting adjourned, the council members filed out of the room, their expressions a mix of awe and fear. I watched them go, my mind already racing with the next steps. I had planted the seeds of change, and now it was time to nurture them.

===========

Four months. That was all it took to begin reshaping the kingdom. Four months of tireless effort, of carefully crafted laws and policies, of manipulating the right people and dismantling the wrong ones. And now, the fruits of my labor were beginning to show.

The smallfolk's morale was higher than it had been in decades. The roads were safer, the markets bustling with activity, and the fields yielding bountiful harvests. The unrest in the Riverlands had been quelled, thanks to the envoys I had sent to mediate disputes and ensure fair treatment for the smallfolk. The crown's debt was slowly being repaid, as corruption within the treasury was rooted out and trade agreements were renegotiated. Even the North, often neglected by the southern lords, was beginning to see the benefits of my reforms, with new maesters' citadels being established and the smallfolk receiving much-needed education and healing.

The people were beginning to admire me, their whispers of gratitude and praise reaching my ears wherever I went. They called me the "Golden Prince," the "Lightbringer," the one who had brought hope to a kingdom on the brink of collapse. It was a title I wore with pride, for it was not just empty flattery—it was the result of my hard work and vision.

But I knew this was only the beginning. The kingdom was still fragile, its foundations cracked by years of neglect and corruption. And there were still those who opposed me, who saw my rise as a threat to their power. I would deal with them in time. For now, I had a more pressing matter to attend to.

=========

It was time to become a mage.

I had spent the past four months focusing on the kingdom, but now I needed to focus on myself. My body was strong, my sword skills honed to perfection, but I knew that true power lay in the combination of sword and magic. The *Eternal Golden Lion* method had prepared my body for this moment, and now it was time to take the next step.

I approached my father, my expression serious. "Father, I need a place to train—somewhere quiet, where I won't be disturbed."

Robert looked at me, his brow furrowed. "Train? What for? You've already proven yourself, boy. The kingdom's in better shape than it's been in years."

I shook my head. "This isn't about the kingdom. This is about me. I need to become stronger, to unlock abilities that will allow me to protect what we've built."

Robert studied me for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright, fine. Take the cabin. Do whatever you need to do. Just don't burn the place down."

I smiled faintly. "Thank you, Father."

========

The cabin was just as I had left it—quiet, secluded, and filled with the faint scent of pine and dust. I sat cross-legged in the center of the room, my eyes closed as I focused on the flow of mana within me. This was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment I would form my first **Mana Star**.

In my past life, I had been a 9th Star Mage, a being of unparalleled magical power. But here, in this new body, I was starting from scratch. It was a humbling experience, but also an exciting one. I knew the path ahead, the steps I needed to take to regain my former strength—and surpass it.

I began by drawing mana into my body, channeling it through my veins and into my core. The process was slow and painstaking, but I had done it countless times before. I could feel the mana swirling within me, a vast reservoir of energy waiting to be shaped and refined.

Hours passed, then days. I lost track of time as I focused on the task at hand, my mind and body working in perfect harmony. And then, finally, I felt it—a spark of power, a flicker of light in the darkness. I focused all my energy on that spark, feeding it with mana until it grew into a blazing star.

The first **Mana Star** had been formed.

I opened my eyes, a smile playing on my lips. The star pulsed within me, a source of power that would allow me to use magic more stably, faster, and efficiently. But this was only the beginning. I would need to form more stars, to refine my control over mana, to combine it with the sword aura I had already mastered.

When I emerged from the cabin, I felt stronger, more alive than I had in months. The combination of sword and magic would make me unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with. Even the dragons that Daenerys Targaryen would one day obtain would be nothing against me.

As I stepped out of the cabin, the cool morning air brushing against my skin. The first **Mana Star** pulsed within me, a steady source of power that filled me with a sense of exhilaration. It had been centuries since I last felt this—the raw, untamed energy of magic coursing through my veins. But this time, it was different. This time, I was starting anew, and the possibilities were endless.

I decided to test my new power, to see what this body was capable of. I started with the basics—spells that were simple, harmless, but useful nonetheless. It was important to build a strong foundation, to ensure that my control over mana was precise and unwavering.

I raised my hand, focusing on the mana within me. The spell was simple—a ball of light, no larger than a candle flame. It was a spell I had cast countless times in my past life, but now, in this new body, it felt like the first time all over again.

I channeled a small amount of mana into my palm, shaping it with my will. The air around my hand shimmered, and then, with a soft *whoosh*, a ball of light appeared, hovering just above my skin. It was warm and bright, casting a gentle glow over the surrounding area.

I smiled, a sense of satisfaction washing over me. The spell was flawless, the mana flowing smoothly and effortlessly. It was a small victory, but an important one. It proved that my control over magic was as precise as ever.

Next, I decided to test my ability to manipulate fire. Fire was a volatile element, difficult to control but incredibly powerful when mastered. I focused on the mana within me, shaping it into the form of a small flame.

I held out my hand, palm facing upward, and willed the flame into existence. A spark appeared, flickering and dancing in the air before growing into a small, steady flame. It was no larger than a candle's flame, but it was enough to prove that my control over fire was intact.

I moved the flame from one hand to the other, watching as it danced and flickered in the air. It was a simple spell, but it filled me with a sense of excitement. Fire was the element of destruction and creation, and mastering it would be key to unlocking my full potential.

Finally, I decided to test my control over wind. Wind was a subtle element, difficult to see but incredibly versatile. I focused on the mana within me, shaping it into a gentle breeze.

I raised my hand, palm facing outward, and willed the wind to move. A soft breeze swept through the clearing, rustling the leaves and stirring the dust on the ground. It was a small spell, but it demonstrated my ability to manipulate the air around me.

I smiled, a sense of accomplishment washing over me. These spells were basic, but they were the foundation of my magical abilities. And with each spell I cast, I could feel my control over mana growing stronger, more precise.