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—
Stepstones
Robert kept waking up through the night, the voice getting more and more insistent and louder whenever he tried to sleep.
Come morning he was tired and didn't want to stay on Stepstones any longer. He broke camp, mounted his dragon, and took off. Whatever it was calling him to Valyria, he wasn't going.
He remembered about that Targaryen princess who went there, and while the details eluded him, he did know of her death being a painful one.
Robert preferred living.
It was at Weeping Town he decided to rest, and it wasn't long before Lord Roderick Whitehead was there to greet him, happy to host the Lord of Asgard and Father of the Dragons.
"Welcome to Weeping Town, Lord Robert. Had I known you would visit, I would have had a feast prepared in your name." He shook Robert's hand enthusiastically, and he did his best to smile, even with how tired he was.
"I am flattered, Lord Roderick; unfortunately, I only have enough time to stay the night. I have been busy at Stepstones and need to be back at Asgard." Robert excused. In truth, he didn't want to deal with the teenage girls behind the Lord of Weeping Tower. They were preening like peacocks, and if he wasn't tired, he would laugh.
"Stepstones, my lord? What did that den of pirates do to anger you?" Curiosity overtook him, as the islands were close enough to his town.
"It's not what they did, but the safety of the Stepstones is necessary for my future trade routes, so I took some preemptive action to clean out the pirates, as well as Lys and Myr."
"Pirates are one thing, my lord, but I don't see those two cities backing down so easily." Weeping Town saw some trade from the Summer Sea, and Roderick was sure it would grow if it weren't for the Stepstones.
"I burned down their fleets and sent them a message to stay out of the Stepstones." Robert said with a flat tone and an empty smile, mounting the horse they brought while the dragons went to hunt.
"That is…" Lord Roderick was lost for words. What he did was basically a declaration of war against the two cities, yet he didn't seem worried.
"Worrying? I think not, because unlike Viserys, I won't hesitate to destroy those cities if they try anything funny." His declaration appeared to further stun Lord Whitehead, as well as his daughters, who stopped their humorous attempts to seduce him.
A small feast was prepared nonetheless, and as the guest of honor, he sat through it, but when everyone was sufficiently drunk, he made an excuse and was led to a guest room.
He didn't want any dumb teenage girls sneaking in, so the doors were barricaded.
Sleep came easy to him, and Robert thought whatever that thing was, it stopped bothering him.
He was wrong.
Robert found himself surrounded by smoke with only the broken and burnt remains of towers in the distance.
He looked around but could only see the white smoke, stretching as far as he could see.
"Come to me." The voice called out so loud and bassy it brought Robert to his knees. He saw in the distance an orb glowing blood red with a figure floating above. It was a humanoid, but with claws, a tail, wings, and the head of a dragon.
"Come to me." The voice was even louder this time and finally woke him up. Robert lurched forward, looking around to see where he was, sweating and out of breath.
Seeing he was back in his room, Robert tried to get his breathing under control and went for the pitcher, drinking directly from it.
"Fucking hell." he muttered, wiping his chin. The damn thing wasn't going to let him go that easily.
He rose from the bed, seeing as it was covered in sweat, and decided to go out. The sun wasn't out yet, but going back to sleep wouldn't be possible for now.
He dressed and removed the barricade protecting his manhood from teenage girls with more air in their skulls than brain; Robert went to get his hammer and smash some dummies to clear out his mind.
Stretching out first, he began to think.
As far as he knew, the cause of Valyria's destruction was natural. A volcanic eruption had destroyed the once mighty empire and their dragon riders, leaving the Targaryens and some other dragon lords who had disappeared after trying to re-establish Valyria.
But things in this world had already changed; first Elia, and then him, they derailed the canon and created an alternate timeline.
But what if it had happened way before them? What if they weren't the cause of the change but rather came to this world as a result of it?
There were attempts to journey to Valyria, to seek out its treasures, but he only knew of two who returned from there.
The first, and the one that didn't happen yet, was Euron Greyjoy, who would loot—or maybe not—a Valyrian steel armor from the remains of a Valyrian house, but how deep he would go into the Smoking Sea was a mystery to him.
The other was Balerion the Black Dread, and his rider at the time, a Targaryen princess whose name he couldn't remember, had journeyed there for some reason, but both returned full of wounds, and the princess had died in a rather agonizing manner.
Which could suggest there might be something alive there, but what?
Firewyrms, creatures capable of breathing fire but had no wings and lived underground, were known to exist in the mines where the Valyrians worked the people they enslaved to death, but the figure he had seen in his nightmare had wings, so it couldn't be one.
Targaryen monstrosities, humans born with draconic features, were rare but not unheard of, though they all were stillborns. Perhaps they succeeded in creating a human-dragon hybrid through their blood magic? It wouldn't be the first time in fiction where an experiment got out of control and wreaked havoc, but he had no way of confirming it, short of going to Valyria.
He needed to gather information, and since the Targaryens were out of the picture, he would have to utilize the Citadel.
And Tyrion, after all, the dwarf had a good grasp of their history, in his search for a way to bring the dragons back.
Robert would leave after staying for breakfast to not be a rude guest.
He continued to swing instinctively, clearing out his mind, switching to his sword halfway.
—
The girls had their courage back, sitting on his sides during the breakfast, cooing over his arms and how strong he was.
Ugh.
At least they could have been around his age and redheads, though after Lysa Tully and that damn priest, his attraction towards them was waning.
Ignoring them as best as he could, as well as Lord Whitehead's praise on how lovely they were, Robert finished his breakfast, thanked his host, and left on dragonback.
He would make haste to Asgard, and perhaps the distance would keep that thing away, but if not, he would need information to combat it, because no way in hell was he going to let it enter his mind without doing something.
—
Asgard
By evening he was back at the city and landed on the square, jumping down and heading straight to the temporary HQ to find the dwarf. It was late for him to start the research, but it would be his job first thing tomorrow morning.
"My lord, we weren't expecting you so soon." Davos greeted, earning a pat on the shoulder.
"The Stepstones are calm for now, but an unrelated situation developed. Is Tyrion at the study?" He asked, already heading upstairs.
"Yes, my lord. He and Maester Olivar are still working."
Robert barged in, irking the occupants.
"Tyrion, remember that Targaryen who went to Valyria?"
"Aerea Targaryen." Tyrion answered after a second, taken aback by the usually laid-back Robert's serious tone.
"I need you to find out everything you can about her; don't miss a single detail, no matter how unimportant it may seem. During that you are excused from work."
"Understood, but may I ask why, and so suddenly at that? I mean, I know you enjoy defying expectations and doing the impossible, but please don't tell me you are considering going to Valyria." Tyrion asked with dread creeping up inside him.
Brightroar was lost during an expedition to Valyria, and Princess Aerea's fate was gruesome; he didn't want to imagine him suddenly going there and getting himself killed.
Beyond the gratitude he felt towards the man, Tywin would haunt him and Tysha to the end of the world without his protection.
"I won't, not unless I have no other choice. As for why, I can't tell you yet. It might just turn out to be nothing." Robert wasn't the type to hide things like that, but there was no reason to start rumors of him going mad.
"As you wish, my lord. I will start it as soon as possible." Tyrion acquiesced, still worried.
"In the meantime, I am off to sleep. Maester Olivar, we will continue tomorrow, so you may go and rest as well." Robert clapped his hands and left.
"Yes, my lord." Maester Olivar watched behind as his lord left, puzzled.
—
His dragons offered some measure of magical protection, as that sorcerer from the Free Cities had claimed, so here he was sleeping amongst three enormous flying lizards who felt like furnaces blasting at his face.
Their magic wasn't enough to stop the intrusion entirely, but at least it was just voices rather than a full-on dream.
He slept better that night, still haunted by the accursed serpentine voice.
—
In the morning, Robert woke up, stiff and feeling like a tomato dried out in the sun, and went to find some water. He would need to build a little shed or something amongst the dragons and perhaps build a place for them in the future, but not a subterranean system, though; that didn't end well during the Storming of the Dragonpit.
His dragons continued to sleep, and he decided to let them be.
Finding water, freshening up, and changing his clothes, he went down to break his fast.
His subordinates were there too, already having started.
"Good morning, my lord." Tyrion, Davos, and Maester Olivar greeted, while Sandor just grunted.
He wasn't a morning person.
"You too." Robert sat, spying some eggs, sausages, toasted bread, and fruit juice, and ate in silence, staring blankly at the wall.
"Have you rested well, my lord?" Tyrion asked with a worried glance.
"Hmm?"
"I asked if you rested well." The dwarf repeated, watching him closer.
"It was fine."
Seeing as Robert wasn't in the mood for chatter, they decided to leave him be, still pondering about his strange and sudden request.
They knew he wasn't the type to simply hide things from them, and if it was important, he would tell, but they still were worried.
—
Tyrion, along with Maester Olivar, sent a letter to the Citadel and another one to Baelor Hightower to ask for historic records of that time. Usually one wouldn't directly contact Lord Hightower regarding business with the Citadel, but the maesters tended to keep some things close to themselves, and Baelor's intervention could convince them otherwise.
In the meantime, the dwarf and the maester began to pile up what they knew, which wasn't much more than what most literate people knew.
Each day Lord Robert looked more tired and haggard, which led to him being more irritable as time passed.
He snapped at random things, the ugly fury of his blood showing itself.
Close to a month later, they received a shipment from the Citadel with detailed records of everything they had on the ordeal of Princess Aerea. Tyrion and Maester Olivar, as well as Davos and Sandor, gathered together to present their findings.
"Well, get on with it then." Robert grunted, looking miserable after weeks of experiencing the same dream.