Yagami Light in Game of Thrones

Fully completed story on:

patreon.com/FanFictionPremium

***

Telling the guards to wait outside, Light entered the Broken Anvil and found Jaqen with a glance. The assassin saluted him with a beer mug.

- Here are diamonds worth ten thousand dragons,' Light handed Jaqen a small leather pouch. - Probably a little less or more, depending on where you sell them. I wouldn't carry that much in gold, you know.

Jaqen's quick, tenacious fingers picked over the stones.

- The man and the good young man are even,' he said when he had finished looking. - The good young man gave the man back his freedom and made him rich. The man took the life of the man who had hindered the good young man. It was time for the man and the good young man to part ways.

Light grinned.

- Serving the Lannisters doesn't appeal to you?

- There is no difference between a Lannister and a Stark for a man. A man has obligations, and he must honour them.

Light didn't want to let Jaqen go. At least not until he'd answered his questions.

- You said I had the eyes of death. Why did you say that?

- Because it's true. Here,' he handed Light an iron coin. - If the good young man wants to know more, he can show this coin to any Braavosian and say, Valar Morghulis.

Braavos. A strange way of speaking of oneself in the third person. Shrewdness and the ability to recognise lies. Is that so...?

- Those words will lead me to the Black and White House, won't they?

Jaqen H'ghar's face remained impassive.

- The kind young man has many questions, and the man has no time for answers. The entire tavern saw the man receive a lot of money from the good young man. The man would like to leave before the robbers get attached to him.

Call the guards, arrest him and return the money? If Jaqen were a simple assassin, Light would do just that, but if he was Faceless, that changed things. Light didn't want an organisation of the world's best assassins to consider him an enemy.

- Well, I'll see you later then.

Jaqen Hgar shook his head.

- Goodbye, good young man. We won't see each other again.

***

Varys' body was found beneath the Tower of the Hand. The eunuch lay on his back with his arms spread wide and his neck twisted at an angle incompatible with life. The dark eyes reflected the blue sky and floating clouds.

Varys's death had alarmed the queen no end. Stannis was closing in on the capital, and Cersei could see his intrigues everywhere. The Queen and her son locked themselves in Maegor's Keep, a fortress inside the Red Keep, and posted guards around it. The Master of the Law was ordered to investigate and find the culprits.

Light began his search for the murderer by searching Varys' room. The deceased's chest - presumably the records were kept there - Light was told to take it to his room. Tapping the walls and floor, he found a lever. When Light pressed it, a heavy stone bed rose into the air, revealing a trapdoor and steps beneath it. Light called out to the guards and, accompanied by four men, climbed down.

The labyrinth beneath the Red Castle, built by order of Maegor the Cruel, was astonishing in its size - though Light saw not all of it. Some of the passages were barred, and no keys could be found. In the accessible part, Light found a hall with dragon skulls, a staircase of two hundred and thirty steps leading directly to the Hand's chambers, and three secret passages: one ending in the dungeon, one in the kitchen, and one by the cliff above the river. On the way back, a one-eared black cat lunged at Light, scratched his face, and was gone. Back at his place, Light washed the abrasions and took a long look in the mirror, assessing the damage. There would be a small scar on his right cheek. That's okay, a lot of women like that.

Light opened Varis's chest with gloves on, expecting a trap like being pricked by some poisonous thorn. But nothing happened. When the lock finally gave in to the lock pick, Light was disappointed: the chest was empty. Where had the eunuch's notes gone? Couldn't he really have kept everything in his memory?

He knew, Light thought. Knew he was in danger and had taken action. The papers would be destroyed, hidden or taken somewhere far away, perhaps even Essos, for Varys was from there and might have friends beyond the Narrow Sea. And Varys might still be alive. What if he used a double in his place? If the legends of the Faceless Ones are true and Jaqen H'ghar is one of them, there is little chance that Varis could have fooled him.

Already after parting with Jaqen, Light received word that Rugen, the Red Castle's jailer, was missing. Light questioned his superior, Rennifer Longwaters, and wished he had done so sooner. Rugen was a highly suspicious fellow: no family, no friends. No one knew where he'd come from, but he'd been a jailer for a long time, since the days of the Mad King. Rugen showed up for work whenever he could, but somehow he was always there during inspections.

The longer Light thought about the mystery of Rugen, the more he became certain that he and Varys were one and the same. Rugen had disappeared after Varys' death - once. His face seemed familiar to Light - two. And three: both knew or guessed who Jaqen was. Rugen had some sort of arrangement with the assassin (he was protecting him for a reason), and Varis was so worried after Jaqen's escape that he decided to get rid of the records. If Varys survived and escaped, he will spare no effort to seek revenge. So, one must take care of one's own safety.

Not trusting the city guards (Ser Jaselyn did what he could, but turning a bunch of bums into a loyal army overnight was beyond even him), Light asked Cersei for four bodyguards and had his squire sample all his food. Podrick Paine nodded silently. He was very silent in general, the twelve-year-old boy Ser Kiwan had sent to help his son when he learned that Lancel was in charge of the capital's defences. The Podrick had been in Light's service for a week now, but he had never looked him in the eye, preferring to look at his shoes. Now he just said, 'Yes, Ser Lancel,' and stared at the floor. Light decided that was not a good thing. After all, his life might depend on his squire.

After briefly questioning Podrick, Light realised what was wrong. The boy didn't trust people because of his troubled childhood. His father had died early, his mother had run away with a lover, and the distant relative who had taken him in treated him like a servant. When Ser Cedric Payne died in the Riverlands, Podrick attached himself to Ser Lorimer the Buttler, who guarded the wagon. 'A lad who guards a wagon never goes hungry,' Puzan liked to say, until he was hanged for stealing lard. Podrick would have been hanged, too, if Ser Kiwan Lannister hadn't stood up for him.

- Tell you what, Podrick. It seems to me your old masters didn't pay much attention to your training. And I don't have time for that, alas. But every squire, if he wants to be a knight, must learn. Do you want to be a knight, Podrick?

- Yes, Ser Lancel. I do.

- From tomorrow, you will train with Ser Aron Santagar, master of the weapons of the Red Keep. My cousin Tirek is also his apprentice. He is also twelve, and I hope you two will become friends.

- Thank you, Ser Lancel!

- You're welcome, Podrick.

***

The soldier held a torch to an oiled rope, the other end of which disappeared into the back of a cannon hollowed out of a tree trunk. The shell flew fifty metres and fell to the ground. The barrel blackened and cracked lengthwise.

- Not enough,' said Gallin, making a note in his book. - Double the amount of powder.

The second cannon was blown to pieces by the explosion.

- 'Plenty,' said Gallin. - We'll try to shackle the barrel with iron hoops and reduce the amount of gunpowder by a quarter.

At Light's command the blacksmiths set to work. The experiments were conducted on the site of the former tournament field where, a month and a half ago, the knights of the Seven Kingdoms had competed in the useless skill of knocking each other out of the saddle with their lances, and where King Robert had found his death.

The original idea of making hollow cores with wildfire had to be abandoned by Light. 'Substance,' as the alchemists called it, proved too unstable. A gunpowder explosion in the immediate vicinity would ignite instantly, and the kernels would explode right in the barrel.

The alchemists learnt to make gunpowder themselves quickly - experience told them so. There were no problems with the ingredients either: sulphur was taken from maesters, coal from blacksmiths, and saltpeter was already used in making wildfire, but its supply was limited. Potassium nitrate was not mined in Westeros itself, and importing it from Essos was unlikely while Stannis's fleet dominated the Narrow Sea. No matter. Imports alone aren't enough to produce gunpowder on an industrial scale anyway. We'll have to build saltpans, and that'll take a long time. All Light could count on now were a few primitive cannon that would hardly turn the tide of battle. But the experience of using them could be invaluable.

But wild fire should not be neglected either. Light had ordered the preparation of brigands with a flammable mixture to set fire to the enemy's ships on the river. Light had the idea of blocking the estuary with some sort of chain and trapping Stannis, but he decided it was unnecessary. Firstly, the blacksmiths were busy working on the cannon, so they had no time to forge a chain. And secondly, there's no point in cornering the enemy. The one who has the opportunity to run, runs, and the one who does not - fights to the end.

The next shot was more successful. The cannon cracked, but before it did so, it spat out a stone cannonball that flew a couple of hundred metres and crashed into the ground.

- Okay,' Light said. - The next cannon has the same charge, but point the barrel higher. Let's see how far the shell flies.

The shell flew about a kilometre.

- If you put the guns on the south wall, you can keep the whole river under fire,' said Gallin. - No archer could achieve that range.

- But accuracy would be a problem,' Light objected. - In the time before Stannis arrives, it's unlikely the soldiers will be able to hit a target further than two hundred yards. I think we've had enough experience with wooden cannon. It's time to move on to bronze. How are the smiths doing?

- The first piece is cast, the second is in process. The septons are complaining that all that bronze would be better spent on new bells.

- Send the complainers to Joffrey. He'll make it clear to them that the safety of the capital is more important than some bells.

Gallin nodded and left.

- Tell me, Gallin... if after the victory I get the castle and lands and leave the capital - will you agree to follow me to continue experiments with gunpowder? A man with your knowledge and experience would be invaluable to me.

The pyromancer hesitated, but not for more than a second.

- Gladly, Ser Lancel. Gunpowder has proven to be a curious substance. Our order underestimated it for nothing. We've been too focused on wildfire, which is, in fact, a thing of the past. The recipe hasn't changed one iota in 100 years. I now believe that gunpowder is the future. And I'd be happy to continue my research under your guidance.

As Gallin left, Light allowed himself a chuckle. Another brick of his future power lay in place.

***

What was left of the Small Council hardly deserved the name. The Hand and the Master of Coin were gone, the Master of Ships had never been appointed, and the Master of Whisperers was dead. Somehow it came to pass that Varys' duties fell to Light. If Ser Jaselyn hadn't taken care of the city guard and Gallin had not taken care of the gunpowder, Light would not have had time to sleep. His spies were a far cry from the eunuchs (the spy children, the 'little birds', Light never found), but they supplied him with information, and that was what mattered.

- Private Pat's back from Tyrosh,' Light said. - He'd seen ships with stag sails near Massey's Hook. They seem to have been scattered by the storms that are frequent in those parts. They were anchored, waiting for stragglers.

- Who the hell is Private Pat?

- Smuggler. In exchange for my keeping him out of jail - and for a small reward - he and a few others agreed to be my eyes and ears in the Narrow Sea.

- Hook Massey,' Pycelle coughed. - 'Stannis will be in the capital in five days. We should send a raven to Lord Tywin.

- Still no word from Highgarden?

- No, Ser Lancel. But there's news from Darry. Ser Grigor's mounted scouts have returned from the north shore of the Trident and report Stark banners sighted three days' ride from Ruby Brood.

- Stark and Stannis want to put a fork in my uncle's throat by making him choose between defending the crossing and the capital,' Light said. - If it weren't for rowdy Pat, Lord Tywin might be distracted by the battle with Stark, and then we'd be defenseless against Stannis.

- But if Father marches to the capital, does that mean Stark will cross the river and be in his rear? - Cersei asked.

- Well, Uncle might leave a small force at the crossing, but he won't hold Stark for more than a couple of days. The only one who can stop Stark is Ser Jaime. If he lifts the siege of Riverrun, loads his army onto barges, and sails down the Red Ridge, he'll probably be able to flank Stark in time.

- Can't Stark anticipate such a move?

- He can, but what choice does he have? He has only one road: south to the capital. And Ser Jaime and Stark's forces are roughly equal. Even if the battle is fought, there's no telling how it will end.

- And if my brother stays at Riverrun?

- Then Stark and Stannis together will destroy your father's army, Your Grace.

Cersei bit her lip. After a moment's thought, she made up her mind.

- Pycelle, send a letter to my brother. Tell him I command him to lift the siege of Riverrun and attack the Starks!

- Yes, Your Grace.

When Pycelle left, Cersei stood and paced nervously from corner to corner.

- What about your cannons, Lancel?

- We did a field test yesterday. We put rafts on the river and soldiers tried to hit them with cannonballs from the city wall. So far, one in ten can do it, but I reckon in five days most of them will have learnt it. The inept ones will go to fight the enemy at close quarters.

- This whole thing seems a bit odd to me. You'd be better off relying on wildfire.

- One doesn't prevent the other. The brig ships are ready, the space between the river and the city wall is mined. When Stannis's men come ashore, I'll light the wicks and the ground will explode beneath their feet.

- And if the fire spreads inside the city?

- Pyromancers assure me that won't happen. The charges are small enough. But just in case, I had them prepare barrels of earth to cover the flames.

- You still haven't found out who killed Varys?

Light frowned.

- No.

The queen sighed.

- 'Perhaps I want too much from you. After all, you are only fifteen. Most men that age don't think with their heads, but with their dicks.

- Not counting eunuchs,' Light joked. Cersei snorted.

- True. Perhaps it's for the best that the Spider is dead. Eunuchs are dangerous - it's not clear how to control them. But you, my dear Lancel, I'd love to control you.

Light took that as an invitation. He walked over to Cersei and put his hands on her waist.

- What's stopping you?

- You're like a father,' she breathed out into his mouth. - Cold and serious. But I like it that way. You're a true Lannister. We'll make mountains together, Lancel. The wretched men will grovel before us.

She wants something from me.

- What do you want, Cersei?

- You, Cersei stroked his scar. - But not here. Let's go to the septum. Fuck me on the altar.

- Maiden or Warrior?

- I'm not a maiden, and you're not a warrior,' she grinned. - Our god is the unknown. We served him well, sending Robert to his grave. Hopefully Stannis will be next.

- Valar morghulis,' Light said. Looking in the library, he recognised the meaning of those words. All men are mortal. Perhaps of all the local religions, the cult of the Faceless Ones, who worshipped death in all its incarnations, was closest to him. I wonder what Ryuuk would say if he knew he had an entire sect of devotees in the other world. Probably 'those humans are so funny' or something.

- Valar what? - Cersei wondered.

- Nothing. Let him be the Unknowable.