Golden Tyrant (Game of thrones/Asoiaf)

Another two months had passed, and the progress my army had made was nothing short of extraordinary. Every single one of my subordinates now displayed combat prowess that bordered on the superhuman. 

Individually, each of them was worth twenty men; together, their coordination and discipline made them an unstoppable force. They moved as one, their strikes precise and their strategies flawless. It was a sight to behold, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as I watched them train.

But my ambitions extended far beyond the battlefield. I had been given a building by my father to serve as my headquarters, a place where I could plan and execute my vision for the kingdom. It was here that I began to lay the groundwork for a new era—one where information, education, justice, and innovation would be the cornerstones of power.

One of my first acts was to establish a faction called the Hidden Hand, led by Darius. This organization would serve as my eyes and ears, utilizing the common folk and unassuming individuals to gather information. People often focused on specific individuals—lords, knights, merchants—but the common folk were far more useful. They were everywhere, unnoticed and underestimated, yet they saw and heard everything.

Darius was the perfect choice to lead this faction. His cunning and intelligence made him a natural spymaster, and his ability to blend into the shadows was unmatched. Under his guidance, the Hidden Hand began to expand, not just in Westeros but also in Essos. The network grew rapidly, its reach extending to every corner of the known world.

To ensure secure communication, I created Mana Spheres—small, crystal-like devices that allowed us to relay information instantly. These spheres were powered by mana and could only be used by those I trusted most. The risk of this technology being leaked was slim, as I had taken every precaution to keep it hidden. The Hidden Hand operated in complete secrecy, its existence known only to a select few.

In addition to the Mana Spheres, I also designed and distributed compasses to my most trusted agents and allies. It allowed them to traverse the seas and lands with greater confidence, reducing the risk of getting lost and opening up new trade routes. The compass is not yet made by the people of planets therefore this is ground breaking for my allies. 

While the Hidden Hand gathered information and the compass revolutionized navigation, I turned my attention to the Faith of the Seven.

 Their influence over the common folk was a threat to my plans, and I knew I needed to weaken their hold. I began by spreading rumors and stories that painted the Faith in a negative light—tales of corruption, greed, and hypocrisy. These stories spread like wildfire, fueled by the discontent that already simmered among the smallfolk.

At the same time, I worked to improve the lives of the common people. I increased the protection of the city, deploying my army to patrol the streets and enforce stricter laws. Violence and cruelty were no longer tolerated, and those who broke the law faced swift and severe punishment. The people began to feel safer, their trust in me growing with each passing day.

I also revolutionized education, providing the common folk with access to knowledge and skills that had previously been reserved for the nobility. Schools were established, and teachers were trained to educate the masses. My findings and innovations were met with skepticism at first, but as the benefits became clear, even my harshest critics began to believe that I was blessed by the gods.

This, of course, did not sit well with the Faith of the Seven. They saw my growing influence as a threat to their power, but there was little they could do. Any attempt to undermine me was met with swift retaliation, thanks to the information provided by the Hidden Hand. I had eyes and ears everywhere, and the Faith's every move was known to me before they even made it.

My mother, Cersei, was another challenge. She disliked my methods, particularly my focus on the smallfolk. To her, they were beneath notice, unworthy of the attention I was giving them. But Cersei was a simple woman in many ways, her understanding of psychology limited by her arrogance and pride. It was easy to manipulate her, to twist her thoughts and emotions until she agreed with my actions—or at least tolerated them.

I played on her love for her children, her desire for power, and her fear of losing control.

The news of my grandfather Tywin Lannister's arrival in King's Landing spread quickly, accompanied by the equally anticipated presence of my uncles, Tyrion and Jaime. 

The occasion was a significant one—today was my and Joffrey's nameday. We were both turning sixteen, though in truth, I was far older. My mind carried the weight of over two millennia of experience, but to the world, I was just a young prince on the cusp of manhood.

The Red Keep was alive with activity as preparations for the feast were made. My family welcomed our guests with the usual pomp and ceremony, though the underlying tensions were impossible to ignore. 

My mother, Cersei, greeted her father and brothers with a cold formality, her disdain for Tyrion evident in every word and gesture. Tyrion, as always, took it in stride, his sharp wit and humor cutting through the tension like a knife.

Jaime, on the other hand, was his usual charming self. He clapped me on the shoulder, his smile genuine. 

"Happy nameday, Eryx. You've grown into quite the man. I hear you've been making waves."

I returned his smile, my tone light but respectful.

"Thank you, Uncle Jaime. I've been doing my best."

Tywin Lannister, the patriarch of our family, was a different matter entirely. He carried himself with the air of a man who knew his own power, his sharp green eyes missing nothing. He greeted me with a nod, his voice cold but measured. 

"Eryx. You've done well for yourself. The kingdom speaks highly of you."

I bowed my head slightly, my expression humble but confident.

"Thank you, Grandfather. I've had good teachers."

Tywin's lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile.

"Indeed."

The feast was a grand affair, the great hall of the Red Keep filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking goblets. The tables were laden with roasted meats, fresh bread, and an abundance of wine. The nobility of King's Landing had gathered to celebrate the nameday of the royal twins, though it was clear that the attention was divided—unevenly, in my favor.

As the feast progressed, the time came for gifts to be presented. Joffrey and I sat at the head table, our family and guests gathered around us. Joffrey's excitement was palpable, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. But as the gifts were unveiled, his excitement quickly turned to envy.

Tyrion presented me with a rare book from Essos, its pages filled with knowledge of distant lands and ancient cultures. 

"For the scholar in you," he said with a smirk.

"I thought you might appreciate something more… intellectual."

I accepted the gift with genuine gratitude.

"Thank you, Uncle Tyrion. This is a treasure."

Jaime's gift was a finely crafted sword, its hilt adorned with intricate engravings. 

"A blade worthy of a warrior," he said, his tone proud. 

"May it serve you well."

I took the sword, testing its weight and balance. 

"It's perfect. Thank you, Uncle Jaime."

But it was Tywin's gift that drew the most attention. He presented me with a dragon egg, its surface covered in shimmering scales that caught the light. The hall fell silent as he placed it in my hands, his expression unreadable.

"A dragon egg," he said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. 

"I thought it fitting for a young man of your… potential."

The room erupted into murmurs of awe and speculation. A dragon egg was a priceless relic, a piece of history and myth. Even if Tywin didn't believe in the tales of dragons, the gesture was unmistakable—a sign of his approval, or perhaps his ambition.

Joffrey, however, was less than pleased. His face twisted into a scowl as he glared at the egg in my hands. 

"A dragon egg?" he sneered. 

"What am I supposed to do with this?" He held up his own gift from Tywin—a finely crafted dagger, beautiful but mundane in comparison.

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. I turned to Joffrey, my expression calm but firm.

"And what merit can you show, brother, that you deserve more?"

Joffrey's face turned red, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find a response. The room watched in silence, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Finally, Joffrey looked away, his pride wounded but his argument silenced.

The feast had ended, and the Red Keep was quiet, the echoes of laughter and music replaced by the soft rustling of the night breeze. 

I stood on the balcony overlooking the city, the lights of King's Landing flickering like stars below. The smallfolk moved about their lives, unaware of the plans being forged above them.

It was a reminder of why I was doing this—why I was willing to challenge the traditions and powers that had kept Westeros stagnant for centuries.

My grandfather, Tywin Lannister, joined me on the balcony, his presence as commanding as ever. He stood beside me, his sharp green eyes scanning the city below. For a moment, we stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us.

"Your policies and plans," Tywin began, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority.

"Are… impressive. Even I couldn't have foreseen the extent of your vision. You've managed to unite the smallfolk, strengthen the realm, and undermine the Faith—all in a matter of moons. How do you do it?"

I turned to him, my expression calm but resolute.

"You're a man of war, Grandfather. You prosper in a time of conquest, where steel and fear are the tools of power. But the realm is changing. The old ways—the traditions that have kept the Seven Kingdoms stagnant—are flawed. They've held us back, prevented us from growing. I intend to shatter those traditions and build something new." 

Tywin's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing. 

"Shatter the traditions? That's a dangerous game, Eryx. The lords of the realm won't take kindly to having their privileges stripped away. The highborn have long memories, and they won't forget such slights."

"They'll adapt," I said, my tone firm.

"Or they'll fall. The future belongs to those who are willing to embrace change, not cling to the past. The smallfolk already see the benefits of my reforms. In time, even the most stubborn lord will come to understand."

Tywin studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, a faint hint of approval in his eyes. 

"You're bold, I'll give you that. But boldness alone won't secure your legacy. What is it you truly want, Eryx?"

I met his gaze, my voice steady. 

"I understand your fear, Grandfather. The fear of losing the Lannister name to history, of seeing your legacy forgotten. That's why I intend to ensure that the Lannister name endures—not through stagnation, but through evolution."

Tywin's brow furrowed, his interest piqued. 

"Go on."

"Traditionally, the name of the father is passed down, but I intend to reform that," I explained. 

"My children will bear the name of their mothers, preserving the legacy of every house they are born into. Only when they inherit the Iron Throne will they take my name. This way, every great house—the Starks, the Tyrells, the Martells—will have a stake in the future of the realm, and the Lannister name will remain at the center of it all."

Tywin's eyes gleamed with understanding, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine respect in his expression. 

"You've thought this through," he said, his voice low. 

"But you're aware of the challenges, aren't you? The highborn will resist such a change. The Faith of the Seven will cry heresy, and the maesters will scribble their disapproval in their tomes."

"They will," I admitted.

"But they'll come to see the benefits. A united Westeros, where every house has a chance to rise, is stronger than a fractured realm ruled by petty squabbles. The smallfolk already cheer my name. In time, even the most stubborn septon will bow to the will of the people."

Tywin nodded slowly, his mind already calculating the implications. 

"And what of your sister? Myrcella. You mentioned her earlier."

I turned back to the city, my gaze distant. 

"Traditionally, it wouldn't be possible for her to inherit the Lannister name. But tradition is just another obstacle to overcome. I intend to marry Myrcella and ensure she carries the Lannister name forward, not the Baratheon name. This way, the Lannister legacy will endure through her."

Tywin's eyes widened slightly, a rare show of surprise. 

"Marry your sister? That's… unconventional, to say the least. The Faith will call it an abomination, and the lords will whisper of Targaryen madness."

"The Faith's influence is waning," I said, my tone firm. 

"And the lords will follow if it means securing their own power. I've already begun to weaken the Faith's hold, and the smallfolk are beginning to see me as their savior. By the time I make this move, they'll accept it—or they'll be too weak to oppose it."

Tywin was silent for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he let out a low chuckle, the sound rare and unexpected. 

"You're a clever one, Eryx. I'll give you that. You've seen the flaws in the system and found a way to turn them to your advantage."

I turned to him, my tone respectful but firm.

"I respect your ambition, Grandfather. You've built a legacy that will endure for generations. But the realm is changing, and I intend to shape that change. With your help, we can ensure that the Lannister name remains at the forefront of history."

Tywin's gaze hardened, but there was a glimmer of something else in his eyes—pride, perhaps, or the recognition of a kindred spirit. 

"You're not like your father," he said finally. 

"Robert was a warrior, but he lacked vision. You… you have the potential to be something greater."

I nodded, my expression resolute. 

"I intend to be."

Tywin placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. 

"Then I will help you achieve your dream. But remember this, Eryx—betray me, and you'll regret it. The Lannister legacy is not something I will see destroyed."

I met his gaze, my tone unwavering.

"I have no intention of betraying you, Grandfather. Our goals are aligned. Together, we can build a future that honors the past while embracing the new."

Tywin studied me for a long moment, then nodded. 

"Very well. Let's see what you're capable of."

Though I made an alliance with him, it was more of a way to get close and act like I was his ally. He is simply a useful pawn for me. 

=======

The next day, I led my army to an isolated place far from prying eyes. We rode our horses through dense forests and rocky terrain until we arrived at a clearing surrounded by towering cliffs. The air was thick with anticipation, the silence broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant cry of a hawk.

Lyra dismounted her horse, her sharp green eyes scanning the area. 

"This place is as good as any," she said, her voice tinged with curiosity. 

"But what are we doing here, my lord? What's your plan?"

I turned to her, my expression calm but my eyes burning with determination. 

"I'm going to hatch the egg."

Her brow furrowed, and she exchanged a glance with Garrick and Kael. 

"Hatch the egg? You mean… a dragon's egg?" she asked, her voice incredulous. 

"My lord, that's impossible. Only the Targaryens can do such a thing. And even then, it's been centuries since the last dragon."

I smirked, my tone laced with confidence.

"The Targaryens are not the only ones who can wield fire and blood. I intend to create a new line of dragons—one that will bear my name. In the future, my name will not be Baratheon. It will be something greater, something that will echo through the ages."

Garrick stepped forward, his usual calm demeanor replaced by concern. 

"My lord, this is madness. Even if you succeed, the risk… it's too great. You could die."

Kael, ever the loyal soldier, nodded in agreement.

"Aye, my lord. We've sworn our lives to you, but this… this feels like walking into the Stranger's arms."

I looked at each of them, my gaze unwavering. 

"Without risk, there is no reward. Only those willing to walk through the pits of hell will rise to ascend to greatness. I've told you before—I will not falter. And neither will you."

Lyra crossed her arms, her expression a mix of skepticism and admiration. 

"You've always been one for grand gestures, my lord. But this… this is something else entirely. What if it goes wrong? What if you don't come back?"

I chuckled, the sound low and confident.

"If I perish, you will continue my plans. You will carry my vision forward. But mark my words—I will not die. And even if I do, I'll lead you as a spirit, guiding you from the shadows."

Garrick shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 

"You've got a way with words, my lord. I'll give you that. But if this goes south, don't expect me to sing songs about your bravery."

I laughed, the sound echoing through the clearing.

"Fair enough, Garrick. But I don't plan on giving you the chance."

I walked to the center of the clearing, my steps deliberate and unhurried. From my satchel, I retrieved the dragon egg, its surface shimmering with faint veins of gold and red. I placed it gently on the ground, then took out a mana stone, its surface etched with intricate runes. I sprinkled animal blood around the egg, forming a circuit that would nourish and awaken the life within.

My subordinates watched in silence, their expressions a mix of awe and apprehension. I removed my armor, my clothes, and my sword, handing them to Lyra.

"Hold onto these," I said, my voice calm.

"They'll only get burned otherwise."

She took them without a word, her eyes never leaving mine. 

"Be careful, my lord," she said softly. 

"We've come too far to lose you now."

I nodded, then stepped into the center of the blood circle. The air around me grew heavy, charged with energy as I began to circulate my mana. The ground beneath my feet trembled, and the sky above darkened as if the heavens themselves were watching.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the flow of mana within me. The Eternal Golden Lion method surged to life, my body radiating a golden light that grew brighter with each passing moment. The flames erupted around me, golden and radiant, piercing the heavens like a beacon. I could feel the world's attention turning toward me, the Lord of Light himself bearing witness to this act of defiance against the natural order.

The flames engulfed the clearing, but they did not burn. I controlled them with precision, directing their heat and energy toward the egg and myself. The pain was excruciating, my skin blistering and peeling as the flames consumed me. But I did not falter. I channeled the energy, feeding it into the egg, forcing it to awaken.

The ground shook violently, and the air crackled with power. The egg began to glow, its surface pulsating with life. I could feel the connection forming, the bond between myself and the creature within. It was raw, primal, and overwhelming.

Lyra's voice cut through the chaos, filled with panic. 

"My lord! The flames—they're too much! You'll burn alive!"

I opened my eyes, my voice steady despite the agony. 

"I am the flame. I am the Brilliant Light of hope. I will not break."

The ritual was reaching its peak, the golden flames consuming me and the dragon egg. The pain was excruciating, my body burning and reforming under the intense heat. But I did not falter. I focused on the flow of mana within me, pushing it to its limits. The Eternal Golden Lion method surged, my body radiating a golden light that grew brighter with each passing moment.

And then, I felt it—a surge of power unlike anything I had experienced in this life. My mana core expanded, the first Star within me glowing brighter than ever. The energy surged through my veins, and I felt my body breaking through its limits. The 2nd Tier Swordmaster. I had reached it.

At the same time, a second Star formed within me, its light joining the first in a harmonious dance of power. The flames around me intensified, their light blinding, their heat unbearable. And then, with a final surge of energy, the egg shattered.

A deafening roar filled the air as the dragon emerged, its form unlike anything the world had ever seen. It was small, no larger than a puppy, but its presence was immense. 

It had three heads, each one crowned with golden horns that gleamed like molten metal. Its scales shimmered with an otherworldly light, a blend of gold and black that seemed to absorb the very essence of the flames around it. Its wings, still tiny and delicate, fluttered as it stretched them for the first time. Its tails, long and serpentine, lashed the air, each one tipped with a barbed stinger.

The dragon's eyes glowed with an ancient, malevolent intelligence, each head surveying the clearing with a gaze that seemed to pierce the soul. It was a creature of nightmares and legends, a being that defied the natural order. This was no ordinary dragon—this was King Ghidorah, based on the memories I had devoured.

The bond between us solidified, a connection that was both exhilarating and terrifying. The dragon's three heads turned toward me, their eyes locking onto mine. I could feel its power, its hunger, its loyalty. It was mine, and I was it.

My subordinates starred in stunned silence, their faces filled with awe and terror. Lyra was the first to speak, her voice trembling. 

"By the gods… what have you done? What is that?"

Garrick took a step back, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword. 

"That's no dragon. That's a demon."

Kael, ever the stoic, knelt, his head bowed in reverence. 

"You've created a god, my lord. The world will tremble before it."

I looked at each of them, my expression calm but filled with pride. 

"This is only the beginning. The era of dragons has returned, and with it, a new age of magic. The world will tremble before us."

Lyra stepped forward, her eyes shining with a mix of fear and determination.

"Then let's make sure they remember our names."

I smiled, the golden flames still flickering in my eyes. 

"They will. They'll remember us for eternity."