Chapter Text
Staring out at the distant blue sphere that would be your home for the foreseeable future, you listened with one ear as General Kregg gave you another overview of what you'd be doing. You didn't need it, but this was your first mission of such importance, so it was to be expected.
“Is that clear, y/n?”
“Yes, General.” You turned, facing the older man. “I'll find a mate within the first week. No point in dallying.”
He hums. “Don't just pick the first human you see. Pick wisely. Somebody with traits suitable for your offspring.”
Withholding an eye roll, you nod. Like you didn't know that. You were hardly going to pick someone weak, now were you?
“I know, General.” You say, turning to look at the planet again.
Planetos, as it was called by the locals, was a large world still in its feudal era and was ripe for the picking. Not only did its people resemble Viltrumites physically– making them prime breeding partners– but there were some with… unique abilities. Something to experiment with. The more powerful your offspring, the better after all.
Plus, the planet had no defenses against anyone from beyond their world. From the drone footage you'd seen, the planet truly was a backwater. You'd be facing no opposition.
“Well, if you're ready, I'll take my leave.” Kregg said, turning as you watched him go. “This ship will remain in orbit as you know. Make sure to report your progress if anything significant happens. Otherwise, we'll leave matters in your capable hands.”
And with that, the general left, door shutting behind him. Vaguely, you were aware of the notification popping up that he'd flown away, truly leaving you alone for the first time.
For a moment, you stood there. For a moment, you just breathed. For a moment, you prepared yourself for the mission you'd been preparing decades for.
And then, turning on your heel, you left the control room and turned down the hall, ready to start.
Step one, make myself known to the people.
The day the history of the Seven Kingdoms would forever be changed started off normally enough, a completely innocuous day, clear skies and calm waves. The crew of the Sea Mare climbed aboard in the early hours, setting sail to reach distant shores and carrying barrels and crates of trade items, foodstuffs and other things produced by Driftmark's people. Alyn was prepared for a long, slow day.
But of course, as though called by his thoughts, trouble came in the form of pirates, arrows striking their ship and some men. Yells filled the air along with pained screams. A body fell overboard. Another fell down from above.
It was chaos. Waves churning and men dying. Alyn of Hull prayed to every god he knew– The Seven, Merling King, the Drowned God, even the half forgotten Fourteen Flames– that he'd survive, that he'd return to his mother and brother.
And then, as though hearing his prayers, a saviour appeared.
One moment, the ships were pressed close together, the pirates jumping and climbing over. The next–
“Woah!”
Something wrenched them apart. Alyn nearly fell over, many-a-man shaken and unsteady as the boats were pushed away from each other. The fighting stopped, the world still for a moment.
And then somebody swore as a figure arose from the waves.
For a while, until he was corrected Alyn would think of her as a goddess. For what else could this woman be? Arising from the sea, standing on air, with enough power to push aside full ships?
A few prayers were muttered as she stared down at them, glancing from ship to ship, arms– quite muscular for a woman– crossed over a full chest. Her clothes were unlike anything Alyn had ever seen before, all-covering, almost as much as a Septa’s, yet so form fitting he would've assumed it some queer garb of a whores.
It was whiter than any fabric he'd seen, perhaps whiter than even the Kingsguard’s own cloaks, with silver-grey accents in the shape of some coat of arms on her chest and a loincloth along her crotch.
And then, the goddess spoke.
“I'll only ask this once. Who are the aggressors here?”
Silence.
Her accent was foreign though her words were clear. On either ship, men hesitated, unsure of what they were dealing with. Across from them, the pirates whispered to each other, glancing up at her unsubtly.
Her eyes narrowed.
Slowly, she looked down, down at them, down at him.
Alyn froze, swallowing.
“I ask a question and none of you answer. Tell me, do I need to start ripping off limbs to get answers around here?”
It was the way she said it– calm and casual that had his heart stuttering. That– she did not speak as though threatening them. She spoke as though discussing the weather.
What cruel god did we awaken?
With a harsh swallow to wet his dried throat, Alyn decided to speak up when no one else did. Perhaps it was the blood his mother claimed ran through his veins that gave him the courage, or perhaps it was hope that, if he could endear himself to her, even just a little, he may return to his family today.
“It is they, your Almightiness!” He calls, breaking the silence. Waves crash in the silence, every man freezing to stare at him in shock. Across from them, he saw men readying their bows. “They're pirates who attacked us! Please, mercy!”
And the goddess got a look on her face, one of consideration. Just as she opened her mouth to speak though, an arrow flung towards her.
It hit her with all the force of a wad of parchment, falling pathetically into the sea.
She didn't even blink.
“… really? Emperor help me, you truly are idiots.” She muttered, turning–
Alyn did not see her move. One moment she was there and then–
And then–
It was… there were no words. None that could describe the– the speed and proficiency with which she moved, with which she killed.
It was a bloodbath.
Her hand sliced through necks with ease, separating heads from bodies like a hot knife through butter. Around him, men collapsed to their knees, praying anew. Alyn himself was trembling.
The worst part was the noises. Squishy and thudding and– and they didn't even have time to scream.
That was the worst part.
And then, just as it started, it was over.
Deck slick and bright with blood, she hovered, calmly swatting her hand fast enough for the blood to fling off. With a pleased hum, she turned again, facing him–
And was right in front of him.
Wind ruffled his clothes.
Alyn wanted nothing more than to throw up but there was currently a very dangerous deity before him and if there was one thing he'd picked up from all those religious tales people spread, it was that insulting one was the worst thing you could do.
She stared at him, eyeing him over.
“Hmm, a possibility…” She muttered, seemingly to herself. Then, “What is your name?”
“A-Alyn of Hull, your almightiness.” He swallowed, bowing his head.
An amused gleam entered her eye before vanishing just as quick. “Tell me, Alyn of Hull, from where do you come?”
“Driftmark, your–”
“Drop the titles, it's a waste of time.”
“Y-yes. Driftmark, an island close to the coast of Kingslanding.” He answered quick.
Another hum. Now she turned, observing the other men, few daring to look up.
“… tell me, Alyn of Hull, do you think you could arrange a visit for me with whomever leads you?” She asks, making him pause.
Did she mean the king? Or Lord Corlys? Either way they led them, but…
“… I'm only a bastard, my lady.” He said, cursing himself for the slip. It was instinct, especially when looking at such a finely dressed individual. It always meant they were his betters. “At most, I can take you to High Tide where my liege lord resides.”
A smile spread across her face then, pretty enough that it almost distracted from the carnage she'd just wrought.
“Perfect. Let's do that then.” She clapped her hands, heading to the edge of the ship. “Which way?” She asks.
With her facing away, some men stood, no longer frozen in fear under her attention. The captain gave him a look, one Alyn couldn't quite decipher, but then he jerked his head, and he answered her quick.
“North, it's unmistakable–!” His words were cut off by the yell he let out as she disappeared from view, the ship lurching and lifting from the water.
For a heartbeat, he was stunned. And then he realised she had lifted the ship.
She was carrying the ship!
Shouts and gasps filled the air, men hurrying to look over the sides.
“Bloody Hells!”
“By the Gods!”
Leaning over, Alyn just about glimpsed her as she held up the entire ship…
With one hand.
Gods, just what had they found?
The sight of a ship flying towards land had shocked the first person to see it silent. But another person saw it and then another, beginning to call out to others to see what they were seeing.
Before long, the docks and ports were full of people staring in shock as a ship flew over the water to them– being carried by a person!
“Is that a woman?”
“Could be one o’ the gods…”
“What the fuck is happening?”
Coming to a slow, you carefully set the ship down by a dock, flying up to find Alyn. Almost immediately, you did, staring at his shocked expression with hidden amusement.
Perhaps you would mate with this one. At the very least, he had more intelligence than the rest of these people did.
“This is the island?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. Now, where can I find your liege?”
Shakily, Alyn pointed towards a large castle. You eyed it, not all that impressed by the design or decor, but nodded all the same.
Alyn did not expect you to grab him though, based on his choked scream.
“My lady, what are you–?!”
“Taking you with me.” Was all you said before shooting off, leaving startled and scared people behind as you flew towards the keep as fast as possible whilst still being mindful of your passenger.
Non-Viltrumites tended to be… delicate.
When you set foot on a balcony, guards immediately pointed their weapons at you. At the same time, Alyn lent over and emptied his stomach onto the clean tiles with a groan.
You just stared, unimpressed.
These were the people you were meant to help? Ugh. With a shake of your head, you turned towards the most senior member.
“You. Call your lord or whatever title your leader has.” You said promptly. “I wish to speak to him immediately.”
He stared, taken aback you'd order him.
Your features creased into a scowl.
Before you could snap though, Alyn quickly intervened.
“Ser, you saw her just fly. Please, do not argue. She is… quite powerful.” He says, wane and nervous, yet he speaks all the same.
And the guard whom had just watched a woman fly and carry a man twice her weight on her shoulder with ease decided to listen. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded, sheathing his sword and entering the keep.
You just hummed, expression calm once more. Stepping to the side, you sat in a chair, crossing your legs as you waited.
You ignored any looks sent your way.
Emperor help me, it isn't always going to be like this, is it?
When he was disturbed during his morning fast by a guard claiming the most absurd of things, Corlys didn't know what to believe. On the one hand, a flying woman was something out of a tall tale. But on the other, something had made his guardsman rush to inform him.
When Corlys stepped out onto the balcony, he was not expecting you.
At first glance, you were just a woman. Queerly garbed, yes, more muscular than average, also yes. But still, only a woman.
But then he looked closer, and Corlys… couldn't place where you might've come from. Something about your features was completely foreign. Not Westerosi, not any Essosi race he recognized, and certainly not Yi-Tish or Summer Islander. There was a foreigness to you that he couldn't place, something in your face that didn't feel familiar.
And your eyes. They carried such weight in them, the look of which he only ever saw in wizened old men. They were more ancient than your face belied.
“You've made quite the entrance, my lady.” He finally spoke, eyeing you carefully, wondering what you wanted. Behind him, Rhaenys watched as well, Baela– predictably– having followed to see what excitement was happening. The girl was so much like her mother it made his heart ache.
“Of course.” You said, accent unfamiliar. “How else would I get your attention? I prefer to be efficient with my time, Lord…?”
She didn't even know his name?
“Corlys Velaryon. And you?”
“Y/n, daughter of Conquest.” You introduced, standing tall, sunlight making the symbol on your chest shine. There was a weight to that name. Conquest. Was your father a conqueror of some kind? One wishing to reach out and make an alliance? But why send a daughter and not a full party?
A glance at Rhaenys showed his wife was also confused.
You took a breath, and to the shock of them all, began hovering a foot off the ground. Behind him, Baela gasped loudly while the guards shifted, startled.
The boy in the back whom you'd brought with, just looked resignedly used to it.
Meanwhile, Corlys was staring, gaze calculating as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, what it meant–
“I'm going to be blunt here, Lord Corlys. I am from the planet Viltrum, a world very far from this one. I was sent here by my Empire after completing my training to protect this world and prepare it to join the Viltrumite Empire.” You said, voice ringing with authority and power. His heart was pounding so fast he worried he'd have a heart attack.
Another planet? Empire? The words only just made sense to the cunning lord, the man trying to figure out how he could spin things in his favour.
“To complete my mission, I require a meeting with the highest authority in this land. From my understanding, you have a king, yes? After I've explained my intentions, I'll begin preparing this planet to join the rest in our galactic empire.” You tilt your head a bit, ancient, heavy eyes weighing him down. “Also, it's my duty to take a mate whilst I am here, to produce an heir. For that, I want the most worthy man.”
The Sea Lord latches onto those words like a fisherman's hook catching a common trout.
You were in want of a husband, he summarized mentally. Immediately, he thought of all the options they had on hand.
There were his brother's sons, his own nephews, and of course his and the king's grandchildren, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey– though the latter may be too young for you.
In the face of such a powerful woman with– with– Gods!– with otherworldly connections and unknown powers, Corlys could overlook Jacaerys or Lucerys not marrying his granddaughters. As much as he was loathe to admit it, what was dragon and Velaryon blood compared to what might as well have been a goddess?
Of course, the King could always try to present his other sons… no, Viserys would never present his one-eyed get or his forgotten third son ahead of his beloved daughter's heir.
No, Jacaerys was most likely to be presented to this creature of the stars. A young, dashing dragon-riding prince. What better could she ask for?
Turning to his wife, Corlys wore a charming smile, Rhaenys copying him, knowing what ran through his head all too well. She stepped forward, greeting you politely, the both of them knowing they could not let you slip through their fingers.
No matter what happened, they needed you tied to the Blacks. Victory would be all but declared if they did.