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Robert is a badass who treats killing gods and slaying demons like just another Thursday. Did you know it was inspired by Thairon, the protagonist of my original story, Arrival : Ruptures, long before I began to write it? Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.
—
Asgard
"My lord, I have finished my studies regarding the White Walker. What shall we do with her now?" Marwyn reported, placing the book on the table.
The Studies on White Walkers.
Robert reached for the wine glass, feeling perched, but he stopped before his hands could close around it.
He took a fresh parchment out and began to draw while Marwyn waited. He could see that it was a cupboard, with wide racks and a door. Lord Robert had also drawn a box with copper tubes above it.
"Marwyn, you are dismissed," he said, since the Mage did not like being idle. "Go see to the training of the Candle Operators."
Marwyn left with a bow.
"Sandor," he called out.
His guard opened the door and took the paper Robert held out. "Take this to Tobho Mott. Tell him to make the entire thing from Valyrian steel except the copper parts and have it delivered to the Administrative Hall, right next to my seat."
—
"My lord, what purpose will this serve?" Tyrion asked, examining the large and tall cupboard brought to the Administrative Hall, brought over the hole dug next to Lord Robert's seat.
There was already a Valyrian steel box inside the hole, with long copper tubes rising to fit inside the cupboard.
"You'll see," Robert replied.
The doors opened, and the White Walker was bound to a Valyrian steel post with chains holding her tight.
"What do you want from me now?" The creature of the cold asked, eyes ablaze on Robert.
"You know, it gets awfully hot in here." Robert fanned himself. "I thought it would be nice to have some cold drinks."
"You are a fool to think I would ever serve you," she said, trying to move against the
"I never said your compliance was necessary," Robert winked. The White Walker was wheeled into the hole, secured inside the box, and then water was poured, covering both the creature and the tubes right up to her neck.
Just by being in contact with her body, the water began to freeze, and her eyes widened. She tried to look, her face twisting to something ugly.
"You make so much as a peep in there, and I'll have your mouth sewn shut," Robert warned before the White Walker could start to scream.
The second box was lowered on top of the first one with a rudimentary system of pulleys and ropes. The twisting copper tubes fit perfectly over it, and the servants brought in drinks, lemonades, fruit juices, wine, mead, and plain water.
It finally dawned on Tyrion. Rather than ice cellars or clay jars, Robert was using a White Walker to cool his drinks.
"Now, we wait."
Robert wasn't idle, of course. The workers fixed the rest of the room and cleaned it, and the administrative hall was open to business again.
As Robert listened to petitions of the day, he was constantly stealing glances at the magical fridge, mouth watering at the thought of a cold mug of mead.
"My lord," Doctor Korryn bowed. He was the last petitioner of the day and said that the matter was about the giants. Since the hall was almost empty, it was technically a private conversation.
"What's up, Doc?" He greeted the man. The reports on giants said that they mostly got along well with humans, so he was curious as to what the doctor wanted to talk about.
"I wished to speak to you regarding the future of the giants," the doctor answered, unperturbed by the strange way of greeting.
Their future? Now that sounded interesting.
Robert motioned with one hand for the doctor to continue. "I am listening."
"They number exactly five hundred and thirteen," Korryn said, turning the pages of the book in his hand. "The females number slightly more than the males, but there is a problem. With their current growth in numbers, they will be too inbred in a century, two at most."
He blinked twice. "How do we solve that?" He went into all that trouble bringing the giants to Asgard; he wasn't going to let them die because they couldn't get to it.
"Each couple must be convinced to have at least three children, or more, to avoid the bottleneck. Otherwise, they will go extinct eventually." The doctor relayed his worries, adding the last word offhandedly.
"Did you tell that to them?"
"I thought it would be better if they heard it from you," Koryn said, laughing softly.
"Alright, guess I know what I am doing for the rest of the day," he said, "but first," Robert turned to the fridge, rubbing his hands.
He couldn't afford to get drunk now, so instead he took the ice-cold lemonade out.
"Glass," he snapped his fingers, and one was handed to him immediately. Pouring the lemonade, Robert put the jug back in.
Swirling the glass, he tasted it with his tongue to see if anything was wrong. The entire cooling system was magical and the first of its kind. Who knew what the White Walker could do?
Robert took a sip, then downed the entire glass. His entire body shuddered, and he fell silent, relishing the taste and the cold.
"My lord, are you well?" Tyrion asked, still unsure about the idea of using something as deadly as a White Walker to chill the drinks.
"Well? I am great," he exclaimed. "This thing was a brilliant idea."
Now he had a 7/24 personal fridge to use.
—
The halls given to the giants were equally large to accommodate their sizes. At first, multiple families had to share the same space, but as they learned how to construct the guest halls, each family stayed in their own halls.
"Mag, there you are," he called to the giant, who laughed heartily in return. "Gather everyone; I have something important to say."
—
"This is Korryn; he is a healer." Robert gestured to the man standing on his right. Korryn waved a hand with a crooked smile.
Leaf translated his words, and the doctor was fidgeting with the sleeves of his white robe.
"He tells me that the females need to have three children or more," he said again, waiting for Leaf to finish.
The giants shuffled, murmuring.
"If not, the children in the future will be born wrong or die before that," he explained. Wun Weg understood what he meant and stomped his feet.
"And then, you all will be history," he added after Leaf finished, and the pandemonium began.
Mag the Mighty said a string of deep, rumbling words in his native tongue that sounded like a curse. The rest of the males were either saying something to him or to their females.
"They aren't happy about being told how to live," Leaf translated quite unnecessarily.
"Yeah, I got that," Robert thought. "Tell them their children will look like Tyrion if they don't do as Korryn says."
Leaf translated his words once again. The giants, especially the females, were alarmed, keeping their children closer. Some of the males roared at the implication, and it was growing into a nuisance.
"Quiet," Robert raised his voice, dragging the word out.
The gathered mass fell silent, listening once more.
"I gave you a chance to survive, but you have to work for it too."
Explaining how children with parents that shared blood tended to be sickly, born wrong like Tyrion, or die in the womb or during birth to a people that spoke a wildly different language that did not have the proper words to describe inbreeding was a challenge in itself.
The giants were confused, but several of them actually had children that were born twisted, so it helped to hammer the point.
Korryn would create a program to carefully watch the giant family lines to avoid inbreeding while incentivizing the families to have more children. Otherwise, they would hit what Elia had termed a genetic bottleneck, which basically meant their family trees would turn to wreaths.
The incentives would include decreased taxes for the family, coin rewards for each child, and priority in getting a house.
However, incentives alone would not solve the problem.
The giants were slow to mature and have children, a downside of their size and longer lifespans than humans. The pregnancy alone took two years, and with the necessary time for the females to recuperate, each family could have one child every five to six years.
Korryn would carry this work until retirement, but ultimately, it would be beyond his lifespan, and his apprentices would have to continue the project.
—
"That woman from Moraq, she is here again," Tyrion said. They were going over some documents when the dwarf opened the matter out of nowhere.
"So?" Robert raised a single eyebrow. That ship had sailed long ago.
"I mean, if you would like to try again, I can handle the work," the dwarf offered. While taking a stroll sounded nice, he wasn't going to chase after that woman.
"Nope," Robert said, popping the p. He was Robert Baratheon, and no meant no.
"Anyway, forget her." He waved his hand, pulling out a page from the drawer. "Look what I have here."
Over a blue background, five white stars were arrayed in a circle.
"A sigil?" Tyrion walked to the other side of the desk. "Finally."
It had taken entirely too long for this to be decided, though the result was rather basic.
"The blue means freedom, and each of the stars represents a part of Asgard. It's people, the value of merit, equal rights for the citizens, the coverage of basic necessities such as food, education, and housing, and the final one is for its legions, meant to protect the city and the people from all dangers," Robert explained in one breath.
It was not something out of a fairy tale, with grand meanings behind it, but it was his and Asgard's flag.
What the outsiders thought did not matter.
The dwarf was impressed, as not many lords would put this much thought into representing their people in a sigil.
"Brilliant, my lord. Shall we start having the seamstresses work on it immediately?" Tyrion asked. There were a lot of places that needed to be fitted with the new sigil, ranging from the clothes to hanging a new flag over the sigil of the Trading Company, showing that the company was a part of Asgard.
"Since you are so eager, go ahead." He handed the paper to the dwarf.
Maybe he should write a national anthem too.
—
The produce from Heaven's Stead, which was the new name of the Iron Islands because he thought it sounded nice, was a hot commodity in the market.
Wheat grains twice the size of a normal one; oversized, delicious fruits; and vegetables rich in taste and amount—the traders were willing to part with a lot of coin to buy them, though they were mostly reserved for the citizens of Asgard.
Bits and pieces were sold, mostly fruits as gifts for the nobles and rulers back home.
Another thing the traders brought was rumors of Melisandre. The word of her assassination attempt on him had traveled quickly, both from Asgard and King's Landing, and those that trusted the might of their arms were in search of the priestess for a reward, as he was known for his generosity.
Though, it would be a while before he saw anything on that front.
The Sea Lord had sent a letter, expressing his heartfelt wishes for Robert's health, and promised that should Melisandre be seen, he would send word to him.
He wouldn't hold his breath.
—
"My lord, there is an issue." Tyrion came in after receiving permission, with guards escorting a shifty-looking man inside.
"Who is this?" Robert asked. More importantly, what did he do to be brought here?
"He works in bridge construction in Harroway."
"Oh boy," he thought, "and the issue is?"
"It appears Walder Frey sent him to poison the workers," Tyrion explained.
He took a deep breath to not throw the would-be sabotager out of the window.
"I assume you caught him before that happened?" Because if any of those workers were dead, Walder would be paying for it.
"No, he came to us actually."
Robert was taken aback and gestured for the dwarf to be seated. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"
Will was a bastard of Walder Frey, tasked with poisoning the workers because he was worthless enough to be expendable but smart enough to carry out his task, according to Lord Frey's words.
The young man was going to carry out his task too but came to realize something.
He was treated better as a bridge worker than he was as a bastard of Walder Frey, in the man's own keep no less.
Will had food, a place to lay his head, a healer if necessary, and fair pay for his work, and the workmaster treated them like humans, not cattle to be ordered around.
"Well, I doubt Walder would give you a signed letter just for us to discover it," though that would be nice. "What proof does he have?"
"This, my lord," Tyrion said, pulling out a vial from his pocket. "We had Maester Olivar look at it. He is certain it is the Tears of Lys, and Will brought a whole bottle of it."
Had the man actually carried out his attempt, the results would have been disastrous.
"Well," Robert said, taking the vial and swirling the liquid inside, "Walder is certainly wealthy enough to buy this, but you are not."
The man, Will, averted his eyes, hands fumbling over each other.
"Shall I prepare the dragons for war, my lord?" Tyrion offered, but Robert clicked his tongue.
"I have a better idea," he said, putting the vial down. Turning to the man that had come forward with the information, Robert clapped his hands, startling Will.
"First of all, Will, I appreciate your honesty and loyalty," and he truly did. "You did the right thing, and for that, you will be rewarded."
His beliefs in treating the people fairly had just paid off.
"Do you know your letters?" he asked. Bastard or not, if he lived in the Twins, Will could be more useful elsewhere.
"Some, my lord," he muttered, eyes glued on the marble floor.
"Good," he said. "You can learn them completely and work as a clerk."
The man's eyes widened, and he fell on his knees to thank him, but Robert dismissed the man quickly.
He had something else to do.
"What did you have in mind for Walder, my lord?" the dwarf of Asgard wondered.
Killing Walder Frey would be the easiest and the cleanest solution, but there were fates worse than death.
"I am going to need a harness for Obelisk to drop down a chain and the location of Walder's room," Robert said.
The sole reason he wanted to do it rather than turn House Frey to charcoal and take the Twins was because this was more fun.
Tyrion almost snorted, the memories of their little scheme in King's Landing coming to mind. "Wouldn't it be easier to kill him?" he asked.
Not that humiliating Walder Frey wasn't a brilliant idea.
"Absolutely. But why kill him when I can have fun at his expense?" Robert grinned.
He knew just what to do to that weaselly bastard.
—
In the next chapter:
"My lord, you have a lady wishing to court you outside," Tyrion quickly said as the first thing after entering the room.
"Aren't there like a million of them already?" or at least close enough, "Why bring it to my attention?" Robert asked.
They already made their desires known; why did Tyrion come to inform him in person this time?
The dwarf was trying to control his smirk but was failing. "This one challenges you to a duel for your hand."
"Shouldn't she challenge my father for that?" Robert asked, taken aback, "No, wait," he raised his hand. "That's not it."
"I am confused," he finally admitted. There were women that tried to assassinate him, but none had ever challenged him to a duel for marriage.
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