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—
Asgard
"At the end of 54 AC, Princess Aerea claimed Balerion and flew away from Dragonstone without telling anyone. More than a year later she returned, malnourished and sickly. It is recorded that she said, "I never," and then collapsed. Grand Maester Benifer's accounts of her death say her fever was unlike any he had seen before, and she was burning with red skin and had barely an ounce of flesh on her bones. There were also, and I am quoting this directly from what I read, "things inside her, living things, moving and twisting, mayhaps searching for a way out, and giving her such pain that even the milk of the poppy gave her no surcease. We told the king, as we must surely tell her mother, that Aerea never spoke, but that is a lie. I pray that I shall soon forget some of the things she whispered through her cracked and bleeding lips. I cannot forget how often she begged for death."
After that the account gets rather gruesome, with creatures described as "worms with faces, snakes with hands twisting, slimy, unspeakable things that seemed to writhe and pulse and squirm as they came bursting from her flesh. Some were no bigger than my little finger, but one at least was as long as my arm…oh, Warrior, protect me, the sounds they made," burst out of Princess Aerea's skin but died when they came into contact with the icy water she was immersed in.
Later on, King Jaehaerys I issued an edict forbidding any ship reported to have gone to Valyria or sailed in the Smoking Sea to dock at any port in the Seven Kingdoms, and any Westerosi who sailed there would be executed. Following that, Grand Maester Benifer wrote a book titled Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns.
Whatever Princess Aerea and Balerion faced in Valyria, it gave her a death I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, and if possible, I am going to drink until I forget ever reading this." Tyrion said, truly disturbed by the manner of her death, he didn't want to speak of the details further, handing the report over to Robert.
"My Lord, may I ask what brought you to ask for this?" Davos asked after an uncomfortable silence.
"There is something in Valyria, not sure what, but it has been haunting my dreams, calling me," Robert confessed, watching their eyes widen in shock. Another silence gripped the room, this one of dread.
"Please tell me you aren't going there," Tyrion pleaded. Just imagining the manner of her death was hard, yet knowing someone was going there? Someone he owed a lot to?
It was terrifying.
"As I said before, not unless I have another choice. Were there any records of her having dreams, or more like nightmares, about Valyria?" Robert asked, searching for any clues as to what the abomination at Valyria could be.
"If there were neither Maester Benifer nor anyone else to record them," Tyrion shook his head, drinking the entire goblet of wine, the fruity alcohol feeling like sweet relief.
"Mayhaps—as loath I am to say it—we should search for magical means of protecting you from those dreams?" Davos encountered sorcerers as a smuggler, who requested rare materials to work their magic, and each time he felt disturbed by them, as if an unnatural force was watching them.
"While I was exiled to the Free Cities, I did seek the assistance of sorcerers against shadowbinders to avoid any assassination attempts, but the only thing that worked besides worshipping and offering sacrifices to R'hllor is my dragons."
"That's why you have been sleeping with them." Tyrion connected the dots.
"And you detest R'hllor and the red priests of his." Sandor commented, having warned the traders about the matter.
"Are you considering it, my lord?" Davos asked, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
"I would rather die fighting than be driven mad because of those dreams," Robert answered, his eyes ablaze with fury.
"Considering how agonizing Princess Aerea's death was, being mad sounds preferable to me," Tyrion mumbled to himself.
"Not to me," Robert muttered, resolve filling him.
Whatever that creature was, it signed its death warrant the moment it decided to haunt him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Of course, he couldn't just abandon everything and go to Valyria, not when Asgard's construction was picking up speed and administrative work was increasing, which led Robert to seek alternative methods to combat his sleep problem.
Maester Olivar suggested different teas and concoctions good for revitalizing the body, while Korryn offered remedies of his own.
Some helped for a while, others did not, but Robert pushed on nonetheless.
The Pioneer's tests had concluded, and Davos was pleased with the performance of the ship; however, to build the number of ships Asgard needed for its expansion within the timeframe Robert wanted, they had to massively increase the number of shipyards, not to mention hundreds more workers would be needed.
In turn, they would need more houses, granaries, and everything else to accommodate the sudden influx of people, and to build those, more construction materials were necessary.
A massive effort to build the necessary infrastructure and find enough workers began, which meant Robert had to loosen the purse strings and spend one million gold dragons in total to speed things up.
He had withdrawn the gold from the Iron Bank, and with that, half of his capital was already gone.
Robert, Tyrion, and the myriad of clerks they had handled the paperwork, while Davos personally oversaw the progress with the shipwrights.
Dreams continued to haunt him, though Robert was getting used to it slowly by learning how to ignore them. They consulted sorcerers, but just like last time, they did not have much to offer that didn't come with strings.
Red priests of R'hllor somehow heard his plight, and he received a letter, though he threw it to the fire without opening it. The Red God could go find himself another moron to play with.
It all changed one day when the dreams got worse. Rather than simply calling Robert, the voice began to order him, each monstrous hissing crawling inside his head like a thousand worms, digging into every nerve. He woke up with a bloody nose and a throbbing headache more than once.
Knowing he can't delay it any longer, Robert gathered his friends and sat them down.
"As you know, this problem with whatever creature that is roosting in Valyria is becoming more dangerous, leaving me with no choice but to go there and deal with it permanently," Robert said, watching them frown.
"My lord, the only person that returned alive from there wished she hadn't," Tyrion recalled, trying not to think of the details but failing.
"She was a little girl; I am a grown man. I can take care of myself," Robert retorted. Unlike the princess, he could fight, and damn well sure would.
"Let me come with you." Sandor rose, unwilling to let Robert face this danger alone.
"Much as I would like to have backup, it is more important you stay here. We have no one else that could command the men in case someone tries to take advantage of my absence." Robert refused Sandor's offer. He actually intended to find commanders capable of leading the defense of the city should it become necessary, but under the current circumstances he had no choice but to leave Sandor here.
"I am supposed to be your guard." The Hound scoffed, reminding Robert why he had come here in the first place.
"I told you at the very beginning you would be protecting the people in this room more than me," Robert said, his face expressionless as if carved from stone.
Sandor growled but sat down.
"Now, I have written this letter in case I don't return. Tyrion, you will personally hand it to my father and follow the instructions written there, and if someone refuses to listen, go to my grandmother; she will make them. If the dragons return without me, do not under any circumstances let any Targaryen near them, even if you have to kill the dragons," Robert said, his tone brokering no argument.
He had written his will, deciding who gets what if he kicks the bucket.
"That sounds… excessive." Tyrion blinked a couple of times, stupefied at the order.
"The Targaryens are getting increasingly demented; what do you think will happen if they get my dragons now?" Robert asked, unwilling to imagine it.
"Understood, my lord," Tyrion agreed reluctantly.
Aerys was mad, and Rhaegar was obsessed with a prophecy, and who knew what he would do to bring about his prophecy if he had dragons?
"Good. Another thing, you three are free to seek employment somewhere else if I die in Valyria. You will be given gold to start your lives wherever you want. Especially you and Tysha, as Tywin won't let you be." Robert had considered them too, knowing they would be in danger without him and the dragons just because they were associated with him.
"Well, I always wanted to see the Free Cities." Tyrion muttered absentmindedly, wondering how one was supposed to kill dragons.
"I will start preparing and leave within a couple of days."
"May the gods watch over you, my lord," Davos prayed, incapable of doing anything else.
—
That night, as the nightmare came again, Robert screamed first instead of the monster.
"You want me, you slithery fucking bastard?! Fine, you have my attention, and I'll damn well make sure you regret it! Grant me safe passage in the Smoking Sea, and we will face each other!"
A pleased hiss was the last thing Robert heard before he woke up. The Lord of Asgard tried going back to sleep once again and, for the first time in months, slept without any interruption till noon.
—
Dried food, water, rubbing alcohol, bandages, wine, a map, extra clothes, soap, Nightblood, his hammer, and bow and arrows were loaded onto the saddles on his dragons, ready for takeoff. Robert had rested well with the lack of dreams.
"My lord, I feel the need to ask you to consider it one last time." Tyrion implored as Robert got ready to mount his dragon.
"There is nothing to consider; it will end one way or another." Robert shook his head, resolute in his decision.
"Then I wish you good fortune in your endeavor, and may you vanquish the creature that is haunting you." Tyrion didn't know what else he could say, knowing this could be a one-way trip.
"Thank you, take care of Tysha and yourself."
"I will," Tyrion said, stepping back to let Davos approach. The sailor was worried as well but knew the man wouldn't be convinced so easily.
"I can only hope this isn't the last time we see each other, my lord. You gave me and my family so much, and I haven't even paid a sliver of it back," Davos said with sincerity and
"The value of your good counsel and friendship is all the payment I need, Davos." Robert patted the loyal man on the shoulder, a kind smile on his face.
"We will pray for you, my lord."
"Thank you."
"Sandor, I am not going to get all emotional with you; you aren't really the type, but know this: life might have dealt you a shit hand, but it is in your capabilities to knee life in the liver and shove all that shit down its throat."
"I'll do that," Sandor said, grinning like a wolf at the analogy.
Robert gave the order, and the dragons took off, heading to the ruins of the greatest civilization this world had seen.