GOT: Rasputin of Westeros 23 - The Great Sickness, Targaryen’s Obsession, Red Ruin & The Loot

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The politics of Volantis were complex. The three elected triarchs who ruled the city were neither kings nor princes. They were chosen by every freeborn landowner, regardless of gender. But of course, the chosen triarchs were always from the noble families who could prove unbroken descent from old Valyria. 

The triarchs belong to one of two political parties. The tigers, who represented the old aristocracy and warriors, and the elephants, who represented the merchants and moneylenders. But ever since the Century of Blood, two seats were always won by elephants. 

Malaquo Maegyr of tigers, Taecelyx Caennaeros of elephants, and Vinyx Nohralis of elephants currently ruled the city. All three of them had been re-elected. And all three of them loathed the Faith of R'hllor, as well as the High Red Priest Benerro. 

They were overjoyed when Lord Septon of the Faith of the Seven arrived and began challenging the demonic faith. Seeing the population of Volantis slowly change their allegiance, it gave them confidence. After all, the tiger cloaks, the city guard that they commanded, were compromised, and most of them followed R'hllor. That put the triarchs in an uneasy situation where they couldn't command their own men against Benerro and the temple. 

But now, even those tiger cloaks were changing. They didn't want that, however. It wouldn't benefit them if they chose the Faith of the Seven instead. It would mean simply changing the hand that held their leash, not removing the leash itself. 

The bribed. They tried to buy loyalty. It wasn't hard. That was how all elections were done anyway. But this time, they wanted to buy back their city guards. 

But then Lord Septon openly challenged R'hllor's servants and defeated Melisandre in a magical battle. It was laughable how easily the woman fell. But that wasn't enough, the true face of Melisandre was revealed, and that was a great event in the city. 

By then, most believed that R'hllor's faith was actually demonic, and R'hllor was a demon. Triarchs, instead of being delighted by that, were alarmed because the population of Volantis accepted the Faith of the Seven at an unexpected rate. 

Merchants knelt before Lord Septon. Many of the old noble families also converted to the new faith. The triarchs knew what was happening. The commoners were lured by magic, but the rich and powerful were lured by the influence Lord Septon held in the other free cities. By being the first to kneel, they hoped to receive greater gifts. 

Plenty of houses sent their second sons and daughters to serve as septons and septas under Lord Septon. 

And worst of all, not just the City Guards, even the slaves of the Volantene fleet began accepting the Seven. It was the most alarming situation. They hoped to use the Golden Company already in the city to mount a sudden attack on Lord Septon and kill him, but the sellswords refused. 

And then, before they could even plot something new, they were struck by a strange, unknown sickness. The first one to fall was Malaquo Maegyr, and then the rest followed. The last was Vinyx Noharalis. But it wasn't just them, their wives, children, lovers, families, servants, all fell to the unknown sickness. 

It began as nothing but weakness in the body. Then one morning, they simply couldn't get out of bed. Progressively, it became worse, eventually leaving them completely bedridden, unable to even move their mouths to speak. They were force-fed liquid food. 

But they knew the weakness was still growing. Eventually, their heart would stop beating. 

The triarchs were the most elevated nobles in the city. Their feet were never allowed to touch the ground during their reign. Yet, they were left bedridden. Healers from Free Cities were invited, even Maesters from the Citadel, bloodbinders, and other far eastern occult masters as well. 

None of them found a cure. 

Eventually, when the Triarchs even stopped moving their eyeballs to give responses, the administrative servants decided to go to one last known healer they hadn't approached yet. 

####

"Mmmmm…"

Slurp!

Daenerys gobbled her Master's cock, not so deep she'd choke, but enough that her spit slobbered over it, turning into a majestic, glistening pole of holy taste. She looked up with her lilac eyes as the Lord Septon sat with his back against the headboard, reading a book. 

Ever since that night, they not only slept in one bed but also repeated those rituals countless times. And one of her greatest joys was the morning ritual. Just her between her Master's legs, kneeling, and her throat filled with his warm length. 

She could feel it. The more she drank her Master's holy nectar, the greater her magic grew. Already she had mastered two spells: Lumos and the Unlocking Charm. She was now learning the Levitation Charm. 

Daenerys caught the look in her master’s eyes as he glanced down before he returned to the book he was reading. She returned to sucking as well. Her slender, dainty hands worked their magic. Her right fist stroked her master's fat girth from the base, while the left rolled the balls in her palm. 

Her lips stretched thin around his girth, forced into a wide circle. Spit bubbled at the corners of her mouth with every bob, frothing white where it met the shaft. She smeared the mess over the swollen crown, down the veined length, then lower until his balls glistened under her fingers.

Slck! Slck!

Her hands made wet noises as she squeezed harder, testing the unyielding thickness. No matter how fiercely she gripped, he still felt impossibly big. She felt the shaft pulse against her tongue in reward. Her other hand kept working his sac into a dripping, slippery mess. 

"Ummm…" Daenerys moaned. She pulled back just enough to let the fat tip rest on her lower lip so she could speak. "You are… de-eh-lecious… Mah-ster."

His cock throbbed in her hand and in her pouting mouth. 

She smiled, her eyes narrowing at her master's loving chuckle. Without warning, she dove down again, taking him to the root in one determined plunge. Her delicate nose mashed against the hair at his groin; her lips flattened to the base. The head lodged deep in her throat, stretching the tight ring of muscle until it burned. 

No air, only the thick, living heat filled her gullet completely. Her body felt the instinctive gag, throat fluttering helplessly, yet she refused to back away. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, but they were tears of need. Of the holy blessing.

Her silver hair, once neatly pinned in a septa’s modest bun, had long since come undone. Strands clung to her flushed cheeks and forehead in damp, filthy streaks, plastered by spit and precum.

Yet she ignored them, too obsessed with her master's taste and scent. 

Breathless, lungs burning, she finally dragged herself off. She immediately dove lower, dragging the flat of her tongue along the sensitive underside, painting her pretty face in the sticky filth. Cheek, chin, even the delicate tip of her nose; all smeared shamelessly against the pulsing length.

Her nose flared as she nuzzled into his sac, inhaling deeply while her right hand never stopped its relentless stroking. She licked again, broad swipes that left her eyelashes clumped with spit.

When she finally lifted her gaze, she found him no longer reading. His eyes were locked on her, and that look alone told her everything. He was close.

She felt it in the throb that raced through his shaft, in the way his balls tightened and drew up hard against her palm.

"Yes. I'll drink all the nectar." Daenerys breathed between ragged pants. 

She sealed her lips around his cock again, this time only halfway, leaving her some space to catch every drop. Her slithering tongue curled under his cockhead, cradling and coaxing the swell. 

"Mmmmm."

She felt his large, callused hand settle on the crown of her head, fingers threading gently through the silver strands. She loved this feeling. Her hands flew faster, milking his shaft from base to her suckling lips.

She felt the first pulse travel up his hot length. Thick heat surged into her throat in heavy, sticky ropes. It was unstoppable, demanding space in her mouth. It coated her tongue, flooded the soft hollows of her cheeks, puffed them out until she had to swallow quickly. She didn’t spill. Her greedy little gulps worked while her eyes fluttered shut in bliss, lashes wet and sticky.

The instant it slid down her throat, that greedy itch started to build up in her lower belly. Her cunt clenched on nothing, praying that something would break that stifling need and make her shatter.

She squeezed with both hands, milking every last viscous drop while her tongue lapped and curled around his cock.

"Mmmmm… Mmmm~" 

She moaned, her voice sweet. Thick strands clung to her lips, dripped down her chin in slow, obscene trails. She chased them with greedy, long licks, cleaning him with care so her Master could step into the day pure and potent, ready to carry the warmth of the Seven to every corner of the world. 

Her own dripping pussy throbbed with need, the swollen nub between her folds aching for friction, but she ignored it. Often, her master would use his finger whenever he'd be free during the day. She hoped it was one of those days when his thick finger would slip between her thighs while no one watched, curling inside her until she trembled.

Pop!

With a final, wet suck, she released his cock. She sat back on her heels, completely bare, silver hair tangled and wild around her flushed face.

One small hand drifted to her belly; the other wiped absently at the streaks of cum on her chin. A slow, radiant smile spread across her lips. A life grew in her womb, she knew it, and she couldn't wait to see it swell and her breasts ooze the Mother's sweet nectar. 

"Come here, Daenerys."

She obeyed instantly, crawling until she knelt beside him. 

A delighted giggle bubbled out of her when he caught the hem of her discarded sleeping gown and used the soft silk to wipe the worst of the mess from her cheeks, her chin, the sticky corners of her mouth. 

When he finished, he tugged her close, pulling her naked body flush against his. She melted into him instantly.

"The Mother keep you. By your birthing, I’ll be done with Volantis. We'll return to Westeros, then through Dorne."

Her heart thumped; the warmth of her bare breasts on his equally bare chest felt burning. 

She looked up at his face. "Master, will it be a boy or a girl?"

Lord Septon’s hand slid down the curve of her spine, then cupped one small, firm breast, thumb brushing idly over the stiff peak. "I know it not. Unlike other rites, I set our seed's fate in the Seven's hands. Be it maid or boy, the Mother's mercy smiles on us.”

Daenerys squeezed him tighter, feeling his hand on her breast before cupping. "I hope it's a boy."

His fingers tightened on her breast, rolling the nipple until she gasped. "I pray it be a girl. Fear not. By the Seven, shall not be our only babe. The Mother has many blessings yet to embrace your womb.” 

She nearly moaned at the thought. Without thinking, she kissed his cheek. Oh, how much she loved her master. No man could match him, she believed it with every beat of her heart. 

####

Bronn arrived at the large palace-like dwellings of the three triarchs. They were too proud of themselves and didn't bother to sit in the same place, so he could see them all together. Not that it mattered. 

The three men had fallen to a sickness that he had sent their way through the Golden Company's commander when they tried to hire them. It was humorous how, while they plotted against him, he used their own plan against them. 

Now, the three men were dying. 

"Seven ails none who have not sinned." Bronn declared when he saw Malaquo Maegyr. The man was already old, and after the sickness, looked like he was one step away from death. But Bronn couldn't let that happen. He still needed him. 

Most of Maegyr's family had fallen sick. This wasn't a desperate plea of one man, but an entire bloodline. 

"By the Seven, the road is steep. A true offering is owed to them. The Gods cure no unbeliever. My hands are empty of help." Bronn declared and turned to leave. 

He went to the other triarchs and did the same. He showed them hope and took it away. 

He returned home after that and resumed preaching throughout the city. By then, the number of followers had swelled to nearly half of the city's population. Feeding the poor helped a lot. The new Sept of the Seven was also nearing completion, and it was grand. Its dome was coated with actual gold. 

Throughout the day, sunlight reflected off the dome and cast a beautiful glow. The rest of the building was painted white, stained glass windows dotted the sides, and symbols of the Seven were everywhere. Great craftsmanship had gone into it. 

And he owned the Sept privately. The Faith only owned the building; the land belonged to him. Its great hall could house tens of thousands standing, where he preached regularly and showed miracles. 

He also healed some people in public. He mended bones, even broken backs. And there were no vile sacrifices to the fire like the followers of R'hllor did. The Seven only brought light, warmth, food, and miracles. 

Just like that, seven days went by. 

Finally, the remaining servants of the triarchs agreed and officially adopted the Faith of the Seven. But still, it wasn't final because the main family heads were sick. He needed their willing agreement. 

"Very well, Seven keep us, I need their blood for a remedy.”

They gave it right away. Seeing how the sick were having trouble even breathing, they were desperate. They knew very well that blood could be used to commit evil. But they had no other choice. 

Bronn did use it for evil. The memories he had belonged to an evil wizard, after all. And there were so many potions that could do plenty of damage to a body. But his aim was to curse. 

He spent one day concocting the potion. But in truth, he was only plowing Daenerys. He already had the remedy prepared; he only needed to put drops of blood in it. 

The next day, he went to Malaquo Maegyr of tigers first. He gave them the vial of remedy and told the servants to feed it to them.

"They must take this draught each week henceforth, for all their days," Bronn explained, holding back a smile that wouldn't suit a kind, holy man like him. "Fear not. By Father and Smith, I shall provide it."

Not without a price, however. 

Bronn did the same with the other two triarchs. He was the devil with an angel's wings. He gave them the nectar to live, while also tying a leash around their necks, which was their will to live. 

He demanded nothing from them after saving them. He sang a prayer to their slowly healing bodies and left. They would all return to health in a few days. 

When the seventh day arrived, and the servants of the triarchs came to get the remedy from him, he apologised instead. 

"Forgive me, my friends. The Seven see my hands are empty. The triarchs must endure some days. The Red Temple stole the herbs and materials I had for the draught as they came from the port. They knew its need for the triarchs. Fresh herbs will arrive, though not swiftly."

"..."

The three servants who had arrived on a palanquin looked at each other in disbelief. They tried to offer herbs, whatever Bronn needed. But he refused that; what he needed was too special. 

Bronn let the three triarchs and their families fall sick again. Back to bed, back to liquid food, barely able to move. When the 'new' herbs finally arrived, he gave them the remedy. They demanded more, to keep it for next week. 

But he declared that the remedy was good only for a few hours after its creation. Beyond that, it was useless. They asked for the recipe, but he refused and threatened them with punishment for 'doubting the Gods'.

"I apologise, but the Red Temple stole it again."

"..."

This time, the three triarchs came to his new Sept of the Seven. They came on elephants, and then upstairs on their palanquins. But they still had to walk once they were inside the Sept. They did walk inside their homes, after all. 

Bronn was in his grand solar, Daenerys standing to his right, and Unella on his left behind his chair. He didn’t rise to meet the three men. He didn’t offer them chairs as there were none for the visitors. 

"The Seven watches us," Bronn said and showed them with a bright light from his palm. 

Thud!

The triarchs waited for the door to close behind them and fell to their knees. They looked thin and broken after suffering for months, and then facing that same hell once again, albeit for a short week. They looked scared.

"Lord Septon, what do you want from us?"

"Me? I desire naught, honored triarchs. I serve the Seven’s will, a poor septon in their sight. Perhaps I should ask what you would have of me? You have not openly sworn the Faith to heart, yet I gift you a cure. The Mother is gentle. If naught, the Seven have dealt grace," Bronn said solemnly. 

"To live, only to live. That is all we ask, Lord Septon," Triarch Caennaeros said, almost pleading. "I beg you. From the outer steps of the city, we will proclaim our faith in the Seven."

"All we seek is a timely remedy, Lord Septon. The Red Temple cannot be allowed to steal the herbs often," Maegyr of the Tigers said. "We must stop them."

Bronn bowed his head. "By the Seven, red demon R'hllor has snared the masses. Aye, they must be stopped. Yet you hold the city's power, triarchs. I am but a humble servant."

"But if we act, there will be riots. The Red Temple holds great power," Nohralis said. "We can’t allow this city to burn."

"Outlaw them," Bronn stated coldly. “Proclaim R’hllor’s worship foul and unlawful. Trust the rest to my care. My fleet bears ten thousand souls. By the Warrior’s hand and the Smith’s craft, the Red Temple shall be gone before the bell is rung. To ensure your remedy is not delayed, of course."

The three triarchs gulped. Nothing was clearly said, yet the meaning was clear. If they wanted their weekly remedy, they had to do this. 

"A-Are you certain, Lord Septon? High Priest B—"

“Benerro is but a mummer before my blessings, by the Seven.” Bronn cut in to the hardliner amongst the three. He knew the triarch Malaquo loathed Benerro. “I shall end him myself. They revel in blood. If R’hllor wants a sacrifice, I shall send him his own beloved.”

"We agree!" Malaquo Maegyr of tigers declared right away. 

The other two triarchs discussed it amongst themselves first, looking troubled. 

"Father and Mother witness, my ten thousand are Angelic Knights. Their oath bars them from hurting the innocent. Be at ease. Once the Red Temple is gone, my men will return to the ships."

Finally, Taecelyx Caennaeros and Vinyx Nohralis of the elephants nodded in agreement. 

"We shall outlaw them."

Bronn gave them a big smile and finally stood up. He walked over to them and raised them up from a kneeling position. 

"Come now. Let me declare your choice to the city. Let them learn that you’ve been touched by the Seven's embrace."

"..."

####

Ser Bonifer Hasty and Ser Erren Florrent were to lead the charge. But they had to keep their movements a secret. The ships carrying Bronn's Angelic Knights docked at the port one at a time. 

The men were disguised as simple travellers or mere sailors. The Triarchs gave Bronn's men places to hide and prepare for the attack. It was a long process, taking more than a month. Patience was the key. 

Not just the men. Their armor had to be transported as well. Bronn tried his best to hide it all by causing as much chaos in the city as possible. He kept the Red Temple busy, going every day to preach right in front of it and calling out the High Priest, challenging the man to face the light of the Seven. 

The last month of the year 293 AC by Westeros time, the moment finally arrived. The time was early morning, an hour before sunrise. The city was mostly asleep, and the Red Temple was entering its morning rituals. 

There was nobody to notice that the City Guards had mysteriously vanished. And instead of the City Guards, new men had taken positions. They wore white armor, carried swords and spears. Surprisingly, there were a few Golden Armored men as well. 

Finally, surrounded by the Seven's Angels, the seven knights who guarded him, Bronn walked towards the Red Temple. Of course, the Red Temple had its own guards, dressed in red robes with spears in their hands. 

They became alert as he started climbing the stairs of the temple. 

Bronn raised his right hand to wave at them. "Let the Stranger embrace you."

Bees left Bronn's sleeves and flew towards the Red Temple's guards. As soon as the bees stung, the men fell, paralysed. No roar and grunts, just silence. Of course, leaving them alive was never the intention. 

"Send them to judgment."

At his command, two of the Seven's Angels thrust their blades into the fallen men's throats—a total of eight of them. 

After that, Bronn approached the massive door of the Red Temple. It was closed, so he placed his hand on it and used the Unlocking Charm. 

Clack!

Thud!

Seven knows what locking mechanism was inside. After a few loud sounds, the giant twin gates with fire engravings creaked open. Right inside was a grand hall with a ceiling so high one could see morning mist in it, or perhaps that was smoke from all those candles and torches. 

In the middle of that hall, on the marble, stood a few men and women dressed in fiery red robes. All red priests and priestesses. They stood in a circle, and in the middle was none other than Benerro.

"Seven grace me. My time is saved searching for him." Bronn muttered and walked inside while giving a hand gesture behind, signalling the rest of the ten thousand-strong army to pour out of the streets and attack.  

The men were ordered not to roar or shout as they charged. Just the clattering sound of metal armor echoed. Before long, they appeared behind him, carving a path and storming into the temple. 

Slash!

Stab!

The men didn’t hesitate to paint their holy white armors red with the blood of heathens. They didn’t hesitate to stab or slice women, as they had all seen Melisandre's corpse, or heard of it.  

Anyone in red robes was demonic to their eyes. Only the Seven mattered. Only the Seven were true. 

"Mind the snares. Slay them and set all to the torch. Let us pay R'hllor a grand tribute, by Seven," Bronn calmly declared, yet his voice echoed so loudly. "And you, Benerro. Won't you show me your lark? I heard you can make tricks with flames."

The High Priest in question snarled, raising his arms wide. Skin white as milk, his red flame tattoos shone strangely, some sort of sorcery. Then, from the arms raised sideways, fire erupted. 

Bronn watched with amusement. He knew magic was real by now, magic that was different from his. But he had yet to find anyone who wielded it as threateningly as he. 

If I had that stick, I… Time I start looking for it. 

"How dare you soil the sacred house of R'hllor with those filthy feet!"

Bronn shrugged. "House? Looks more like a tomb. And besides, the Red Temple has been outlawed."

"Outlawed? There is no suc—"

Bronn smirked and drew a parchment from his robes. "By the Seven, all three triarchs set their seals upon it. Benerro, you fool. You stand in your own graveyard and know it not."

"You schemed! You loosed their sickness, did you not?"

Bronn shook his head. "Why? Scared now? Wasting time here. Seems you're not as confident in your demon god."

"Be quiet! I shall unveil the holy flames of R'hllor!"

High Priest Beneero roared and ran towards Bronn. He was fast for a man his age, both arms brimming with flames. But they didn't grow past a certain point. And finally, the man leapt in the air, flames coming from his legs as well. 

Bronn remained standing in place, sighing. He extended his right hand to the side, and quickly, one of the Seven's Angels handed him a loaded crossbow. He aimed it at Benerro right as the High Priest jumped in the air. 

Woosh!

Bronn shot the crossbow with accuracy. The bolt lodged straight into Benerro's throat. 

Thud!

Benerro fell to the ground. 

"By Seven, I need no blessings to slay you. Melisandre was far better," Bronn said and took another crossbow, shooting it into Benerro's skull. He repeated that, taking another crossbow. And repeated again, decorating Benerro's body with crossbow bolts.  

The man was wounded, but still alive. 

Woosh!

He finally bolted Benerro's hands to the floor. 

"Will your R'hllor save you?" Bronn asked, continuing to shoot. "Or will the Stranger claim you here, as He claims every soul in this foul temple of demons?"

"Erhh… I'm not the only one, nor the last," Benerro growled. "They will come after you. All from Asshai."

"Like Melisandre? Aye, I can’t wait to show your true demonic face to the world," Bronn grumbled. "Any last words?"

"The night is dark and full…"

Woosh!

Bronn didn't let him finish and shot another bolt from closer, straight into the skull. This one lodged deep into his brain, killing Benerro. No magic was used; it wasn't needed. 

However, Bronn did use magic once the man was dead. He severed the head, the limbs, and the torso into pieces using Diffindo. Then he ordered his men to take parts of each and feed them to wild animals. 

"Ser Hasty, how fares the cleansing?" he asked, drying his hands. "By the Seven, dawn gilds the sky. See we tarry not."

No matter what, Red Temple still had a sizable number of followers in the city, after all. 

"Use the caves to leave the temple. Burn the building down. Spread the word that the Seven punished them for their sins, and that the triarchs have outlawed R'hllor worship. Whisper that children were found in the temp—"

"We did find children, Lord Septon."

"..."

"You did?" Bronn frowned. "Where?"

"They were held in a sacrificial chamber. We know not what was planned, but they are young. Some who could speak told they were abducted."

Bronn shook his head. "Spread the truth then. What R'hllor's worshippers did. Greatest sin in the eyes of the Seven. The Mother's wrath can be mightier than the Stranger."

Bronn didn't linger there for too long. Ten thousand men were enough to check every corner of the temple, no matter how grand it was. Every secret chamber, every secret hole. When they found R'hllor worshippers, they killed them without asking questions. 

By the time the sun truly rose in the sky, the mighty Red Temple was engulfed in cloud-touching blaze. Worshippers in the city tried to quench the fire with water, but it was far too grand. 

The Angelic Knights had already left, having returned to their ships. Not all of them, as it would draw suspicion. Many hid. 

By midday, the triarchs decreed the sins of the Red Temple. Abductions and dark rituals, and of course, a plot to kill them with their cursed disease. They decreed that if not for Lord Septon, Bronn the Blessed, and the Faith of the Seven, the three triarchs would have died. 

That was enough for Bronn to enact his final plan. Leaving those red worshippers alone wasn't wise. It was time to kill the hardliners and lure the weak-willed ones into the embrace of the Seven. 

Septons spread all across the city and preached, giving out remedies for various diseases and pains. The House of Seven Blessings made more coin than one could imagine. But still, it was far less than what they had looted from the Red Temple. 

That night, Bronn was led to the secret, underground warehouse of the new grand Sept of the Seven, where all the looted items were held. Guiding him was Brother Tyrion, who was tasked with cataloging everything and moving some of it to Westeros. 

"Well, that went about as well as a cautious man could hope. R'hllor held the loudest prayers until you walked in. Before you, only the Red Temple managed any feats or miracles."

"Tricks. Mere tricks," Bronn declared. "Theirs were tricks, mine is a blessing." 

"I believe it. In any case, I’ve finished the plan against the Dothraki. Gods, there are far too many of them, Lord Septon. Unless every able man in Westeros is dragged into this fight, we shall not beat them."

Bronn sighed. He knew that much already. But he saw Tyrion's optimism. "And?"

"That is why we must not fight them, but conquer. Not their bodies, but their minds. I studied them extensively, and they pray to some horse god. Dothraki are savages; they rape and kill without feeling anything. If… If you can somehow convince them that you are that horse god returned, they will all follow you to the end of the world. They already have a prophecy of the stallion who mounts the world. Perhaps you can be that stallion?"

Interesting. 

Bronn rubbed his beard, thinking deeply. It was a risky move because he'll have to visit these Dothraki himself. Even with his ten thousand men, it would be risky. And his magic wasn't strong enough to fight off a horde. 

"By the Father, would they worship me if I could command a horse to my will? Make it dance, roll over, like a trained dog?"

"Possible. Depends whose horse it is, and how many horses there are."

"A hundred horses?" 

"I merely imagined it, a hundred horses set to dance? If they fail, I'll proclaim you the horse god, Lord Septon."

Bronn chuckled and stopped thinking for now as they reached the guarded gates of the warehouse. As the soldiers opened them, he was taken aback by the sheer glitter of the gold. A mountain, a literal mountain of gold. 

Not only coins of countless cities and kingdoms, from Westeros to Asshai, but gold bricks as well. There were massive caldrons filled with gems and diamonds. There were statues made of gold and silver. There were swords and…

"Is that Valyrian steel?" Bronn asked. "That many of them?"

"I was startled, too. But hardly beyond imagining. The worshippers of R'hllor are beyond counting, and the faith predates Westeros. I wouldn’t be surprised if they found them all across Essos and chose to present them to the Red Temple."

Bronn nodded and just stared at the precious treasure. There were at least ten swords of different sizes and styles. More than a dozen daggers of different sizes. There were also pieces of armor, and two whole helmets. More scraps as well. There were also dragon eggs, a total of five. There was a torch emblem made of fire with tinted gold. It was taller than him and broader as well. It had to be cut down to be moved. 

In simple words, taking ten thousand men was worth it. He never needed that many to kill. But he needed that many to move all the loot quickly. 

“How much is all of this worth?” Bronn asked, eyeing the short man. “Seven bear witness, leave out the Valyrian steel. No price can be set on them.”

"I’d agree. I’ve tallied more than half of what lies before us and arrived at one hundred and sixteen million gold dragons. It should be near two hundred, I suspect. It appears the Red Temple has been hoarding from the moment it first opened its doors."

"..."

That’s… Holy Mother's sweet, juicy tits! 

"I suppose I’ve found yet another cause to raid every Red Temple in Essos."

This time, he noticed Tyrion staring at him with a witty grin. 

True, Bronn knew this midget didn't believe in the Seven. The man did believe in his magic, however. Bronn liked it, because now he had someone he didn't need to fool with a dozen prayers and invoking the Seven every second line. 

"Go ahead." Bronn patted Tyrion's shoulder. "The Seven smile upon good service. Claim one of the blades that pleases you. I recall Lord Tywin always lamented the loss of his house’s greatsword.”

Tyrion gawked at his face, looking back and forth between him and the stack of swords. 

"Y-You wish to give my Father one?"

Bronn scoffed. "It is yours in full, Brother Tyrion, by the grace of the Seven. Keep the thing, melt it down, or lay it at your father's feet. The choice rests with you."

"A-Are you sure, Your Holiness? I… I would rather keep it."

"Then keep it." Bronn shrugged and walked over to check one of the swords. Each one was so beautiful and different from the other. Some were also curved blades, clearly built for a different culture. 

As Bronn inspected his third sword, he noticed Tyrion still hadn't moved. He looked back and found the short man still in place, staring blankly at nothing. 

"Brother Tyrion?"

"Ah!" Tyrion jolted awake, eyes strangely bright. “I… Thank you, Your Holiness. Crossing the Narrow Sea to grovel at your feet was clearly the wisest move of my life. I should have tried piety years ago… right after I tried not being born a dwarf.”

"Your father forced you," Bronn reminded. 

Tyrion laughed. "The sole kindness he’s ever shown me."

"I believe it was meant as your punishment."

"May the Seven…" Tyrion took hold of the most Westerosi-looking sword among them, no greatsword, just a proper bastard one he could actually lift. "…go on punishing me exactly like this."

Bronn laughed, joining the dwarf to test the blade. It was good to have someone not so blindly devout around.

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A/N: Hi, I'm gonna be honest with you guys. I don't feel the satisfaction writing this story as I feel when I write Tyrant or Madman, or even Upgrading Death. It's not that the story isn't interesting, I just feel this is too much Game of Thrones for me.

Most of my planning and plotting is spent on Tyrant. What's left is used in this story. And I sometimes struggle writing full chapters of this story.

So, I have decided to end the story very soon. I know many of you like this story. But to ensure quality, I feel like I have to make a decision.

This story will likely be replaced by either a Star Wars fic or a DC fic. Depending on the Poll I will do.

So here's the question: how soon should I end this story? I feel I can go as far as 4 more chapters. There will likely be a long time skip at the end of the next chapter.