Playing the Game (Game of Thrones)

For a long moment, staring out across the Smoking Sea, Jon is undeniably tempted. It would be so easy to just fly over there on his dragons and see what the hell all this fuss was about. He was being pushed to do so. But… just because he was feeling driven in this direction didn’t mean he needed to be reckless or foolhardy about it.
 
At the end of the day, Jon had more to consider then just himself, didn’t he? It would be selfish to go alone and risk everything. The army that had followed him here wasn’t just here to support him, they were relying on him. It was Jon who had brought them this far, and it would be Jon who would bring them further still.
 
If he got himself killed by going off all alone, who’s to say what would happen to the peoples he’d brought together? The Unsullied would hopefully revert to Daenerys’ control given their love for her, but what would the Dothraki do? Would Jon’s Will extend past his death? Or would the Horse Lords merely return to their old ways within a scant few years?
 
No, unfortunately he’d grown beyond the point where he could be reckless and foolhardy. So with a sigh, Jon turns his back on the idea of flying his dragons across the Smoking Sea to Valyria and instead orders the Braavosi Captain to see about having the Unsullied build boats for their ultimate crossing. It would take longer of course, but in the end, it was the better option, the safer option.
 
The next few weeks are spent sitting and waiting to be ready for the next leg of their journey. Jon has to admit, there’s more than one time over those weeks where he’s half-tempted to change his mind and ride his dragons over after all. Not even Missandei and Doreah can truly distract him from his driven obsession with getting to Valyria, though the two gorgeous women certainly try their best.
 
Jon slakes his lusts on their bodies night after night, feasting upon one and fucking the other. He plows them both silly again and again, and everything starts to blend together. In the beginning, he’d kept track of the ‘score’ between the two of them, as Doreah and Missandei continually looked to one-up each other and aimed to humiliate the other in his presence, each trying to assert their dominance over the other one. Though in Missandei’s case it started out defensive, eventually she was just as eager to bring Doreah low as the Lysene Bed Slave was to do the same to her.
 
At the start, Jon kept better track of things, wanting to make certain that neither was truly in danger of overcoming the other so much that their dynamic became set in stone one way or another. Competition was fine, especially sexual competition, but Jon would not abide bullying. He’d gotten enough of that from the likes of Theon Greyjoy growing up.
 
Eventually though, Jon had to admit, he’d lost track of who was overcoming who more often. To be fair, it seemed pretty equal still, all things considered. There were just as many nights where Missandei had one whatever little challenge and was in charge of Doreah, as there were nights where Doreah was in charge of Missandei. And there were even nights in between where they hadn’t come up with a new challenge for the day yet and were just fighting one another for his attention.
 
All of it was fun in it’s own way. All of it was pleasurable, to say the least. And Jon had to admit, it satiated one sort of dragon within him, the kind that wanted to conquer, to fuck, to slake it’s lusts. However, it didn’t satisfy the feeling that he needed to get to Valyria. It didn’t completely deal with this antsy desire to just get on with things, a desire that was soundly rebuked by the simple need for time in building ships that would transport even half of their forces across the Smoking Sea.
 
That was the compromise, ultimately. Jon couldn’t possibly bring his entire army, not without waiting months. But half his army was still a considerable force indeed, and with it, he should have no issues dealing with whatever awaited him in Old Valyria. It was just a matter of biding his time and letting the construction continue.
 
To be fair, it wasn’t all bad. As it turned out, those ships that were in the harbor? They weren’t quite as old as they might have seemed. No, while Jon hadn’t realized it at first, this wasn’t some fleet that had somehow survived the Doom and was from Old Valyria. Rather, it was a Westerosi Fleet… a fleet of ships that Jon had heard about in passing during one of his history lessons, as a matter of fact.
 
It probably wouldn’t have stuck as well as it did if not for the fact that it was a well-known smudge on the otherwise impeccable Lannister name. Anything that make those lions who shit gold on a regular basis look even a little worse was bandied about in the North constantly, laughed at by all Northmen in fact. This was one such story, one that Jon had heard tell of many a time.

 
King Tommen Lannister the Second, also known as the Lion King, was a King of the Rock before the Conquest of Westeros. After the Doom, it was said that the Lannister King sailed his great fleet to Valyria, eager to plunder all of the wealth and all of the magic that he was sure still remained. Only, he’d never come back. And he’d taken the Lannister Family’s only Valyrian steel greatsword with him, a sword called ‘Brightroar’.
 
Now, that story might have faded into the annals of history, but everyone knew that Tywin Lannister, after rebuilding his family’s reputation from the trash heap his weak-willed father had left it in, had also sought to find and claim a new Valyrian steel sword for his house. It was, in fact, one of the few things the Great Lion had failed at, time and time again.
 
Tywin was said to have offered heaps and heaps of gold to any number of lesser houses if they would part with their own ancestral Valyrian steel, but no one had taken him up on that offer. You couldn’t put a price on Valyrian Steel, after all… it was valuable for more than just gold.
 
When Jon had found out that the ships in Oros’ harbor were of King Tommen’s Golden Fleet, he’d been excited… for all of about a day. As it turned out, most had already been searched, and on his orders, the rest of the ships were searched ahead of schedule as well. But no sign of Brightroar or even King Tommen himself turned up. There was no flagship here, no King’s Quarters to be found.
 
This couldn’t be the entire Golden Fleet, Jon eventually realized. This right here was as far as this part of the armada had gotten, but it didn’t seem to be as far as King Tommen himself had gotten. Where the man was, Jon didn’t know… but perhaps he’d find sign of him when he finally reached his destination.
 
And so, the day eventually came that they had enough boats, constructed by the steady hands of Unsullied, to cross the Smoking Sea. Jon brought more Unsullied with him then Dothraki, but also brought his fair share of Horse Lords as well. They weren’t well-versed as manning boats rather than riding horses, but luckily the Unsullied were and they were able to make up the backbone of Jon’s sailors as they finally set out on the Smoking Sea.
 
Behind him, Jon left a good half of his army, as well as Missandei and Doreah. This next leg of the journey was no place for soft women, and as strong as the two handmaidens were in many ways, this was not one of them. Jon would be fine without their attention and care for a little while.
 
He’s proven right in his decision on the second day of their voyage. The Smoking Sea was not some massive ocean. They weren’t expecting the journey from Oros to Tyria to take longer than three days or so at most. But halfway through their voyage, disaster very nearly reared its ugly head.
 
“KRAKEN!”
 
The shout is what Jon wakes up to, even as the ship rocks beneath him. Rising from his bed, grabbing his sword and not much else, he rushes out onto the deck of the boat in time to see massive tentacles ranging here and there. The creature is still mostly submerged, but it’s in the midst of their fleet and seems large enough to be attacking multiple ships at the moment.
 
Just as Jon arrives on the deck, one of it’s larger tentacles curls tighter around a boat off to his right. The crunching splintering of wood fills the air as the ship begins to give beneath the Kraken’s might, starting to sink as it takes on water through the holes the Kraken is putting in it. Then, a final squeeze sees the boat bisected completely, torn in half and sinking all the faster as it’s occupants have to abandon ship.
 
It’s a mess and a half if Jon has ever seen one, and unfortunately… it’s not one he’s at all prepared for. He’s never engaged in ship combat before, let alone against a Kraken. Luckily for him, he’s surrounded by trained warriors. The Dothraki are not the kind of men who let their fear rule them. They were more inclined to respond to terror by trying their best to attack it with all they had.
 
This was exactly what happened, with Dothraki screams filling the air as they rushed the Kraken’s tentacles with their blades. At the same time, the Unsullied were clearly a bit caught off guard as well, but their own training did not allow them to be ruled by shock or fear either. Instead, those who were needed as sailors remained at their posts fearlessly, unworried of death, while those who could grabbed their spears and began to stab the Kraken wherever they might reach.
 
They still ended up losing a full quarter of the fleet by the time it was done. But at the very least, the Kraken died too. Jon couldn’t do anything but assist with his own sword, hacking and slashing for what felt like hours as the Kraken tried it’s damnedest to kill them, and after realizing it’s plight, escape. But it’s too intwined with the ruins of the boats it’s already destroyed to get away by that point.
 
In the end, Jon puts his blade through one of the creature’s massive, inky black eyes and the battle comes to a close. And yet, he doesn’t feel a sense of accomplishment as he looks around at their cripple fleet, half of the boats having sustained some sort of damage, while waterlogged Unsullied and Dothraki climb aboard those ships that still remain, assisted by their fellows.
 
Not everyone survived this encounter, but who was to say whether this was the only Kraken in these forsaken waters? In fact, Jon was fairly confident in saying it probably wasn’t. Pulling his sword free and swallowing thickly, Jon moves to the upper deck and lifts his voice, calling out across the small fleet.
 
“ONWARD! GET US MOVING BEFORE THE NEXT ONE SHOWS UP!”

The prospect of having to fight ANOTHER mythological creature any time soon gets the reaction he wants. His Unsullied were already preparing to continue on, but there were some Dothraki who were insisting that they wait until they’d gotten trophies from the dead beast. They would have to make do with what they’d already managed to snag however, because Jon didn’t want them sitting still for any longer than this.
 
Luckily, his decision to get them sailing again as fast as possible seems to be the right one, even if he’s beginning to have doubts about waiting for the boats to be built in the first place. Here he was thinking that just flying across the sea on his dragons would be dangerous, but instead it was now looking like the safer option. No krakens in the sky after all…
 
Regardless, they make it to Tyria without any more deaths, at least. The place is every bit as inhospitable as expected, but what really catches Jon’s eye is what’s waiting for them in the harbor. More of the Golden Fleet, all docked and just… sitting there. Some of the boats are half-sunk from age of course, but one in particular is utterly massive and Jon just knows… that boat has to be the King’s. It might hold Brightroar, it might hold some clue to finding Brightroar.
 
But is it really important right now? Does Jon really want to take even this much of a detour when he’s so close to his goal he can almost taste it? That feeling in his gut, that NEED to come to Old Valyria… it’s positively SINGING now that he’s this far along. Valyria itself is still a journey away, Tyria is only a port city, but all the same… they’re almost there.
 
Perhaps he could check out the Golden Fleet on the way back instead? Or would it be better to ransack it now and then move onward...

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