The carriage rumbled through the streets of King's Landing, its wheels clattering against the cobblestones. Inside, Olenna Tyrell sat across from two of the strangest men she had ever encountered—one dressed as a painted madman, the other as a lunatic in a Hawaiian shirt.
Olenna said carefully, her voice betraying none of her inner thoughts. "What exactly is this deal you're offering?"
Jacob leaned forward, his scarred Joker face splitting into a wide grin. "I can rescue your grandchildren. Loras and Margaery."
Olenna's eyes narrowed. "And what's the price? Nothing in this world is free. I've learned that lesson more times than I care to count."
Jacob said, "Let's go first to the place you're staying. Then we'll talk properly."
The carriage continued its journey through the winding streets, eventually arriving at the Red Keep. Olenna guided them to her private quarters, where her son Mace was pacing nervously.
"Mother!" Mace exclaimed, his face pale with worry. "Where have you been? I've been—" He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as he took in the two strange men following his mother.
Olenna waved a dismissive hand. "Later, Mace. Pour some wine for our guests."
She guided Jacob and Stiles to a sitting area, settling into a cushioned chair with the practiced grace of a woman who had spent decades navigating the treacherous waters of court politics. Mace hovered nearby, his hands trembling as he held a wine decanter.
Jacob raised a hand. "No wine for me. I don't drink."
Stiles shook his head as well. "Same here."
Olenna raised a brow. "Why? Don't all men love wine, ale, and mead? Or do you two gentlemen prefer something stronger—spirits, perhaps?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. We don't drink because alcohol doesn't work on us."
Olenna's brow furrowed. "What's alcohol?"
Jacob leaned in, a creepy smile on his Joker face, and spoke like he was sharing a delightful secret.
"Alcohol is the poison that makes the drink worth drinking. Without it, wine is just sour grape juice—and ale? Stale bread-water fit only for pigs. But with it? Oh, with it, you laugh too loud, fight too hard, confess secrets you'd rather take to your grave. Consuming too much alcohol makes you wake up in places you have no business being. A hayloft. A ditch. The High Septon's private chambers. Sometimes you wake up next to someone—naked—and you haven't the foggiest notion who they are, or why they're smiling, or why you're the one covered in strange liquids."
He turned slowly to Mace, who flinched under his gaze.
"Other mornings? You wake up in the dungeon, chained to a wall, with a guard telling you you've committed crimes you don't remember. Treason. Arson. Stole a horse and married it in a drunk ceremony. And the worst part? You might have done it. You'll never know. Because the alcohol stole that memory right out of your skull and replaced it with a pounding headache and the sudden, horrible realization that you're on a wagon—heading for Castle Black—for something you don't even recall doing."
He chuckled and turned back to Olenna.
"That's alcohol, old lady. It turns a man into a beast, a lord into a laughingstock, and a grand maester into a complete fool."
Olenna raised one eyebrow, took a measured sip of her own wine, and said, "You speak like an experienced drunkard."
Jacob shook his head. "I've never been drunk in my life. And to be honest, I'm glad I can't get drunk."
Olenna studied him, trying to understand the strange man she was talking to. "Why is that?"
Jacob's expression grew thoughtful. "First of all, I hate losing control of my actions and thinking. Second, my head is filled with all kinds of weird intrusive thoughts, and the mere thought of me losing my rationality and acting on one of them makes me shudder in fear." He paused. "And there are all kinds of drunks. Some become happy and sing. Some turn violent. It would be okay if I turned into a happy drunk, but it would be terrifying if I turned into the violent kind. Believe me, no one would want to see that—starting with myself."
Stiles shivered. "Yeah, I don't want to see that either. A lot of people would die. Maybe even me."
Jacob sniffed the air dramatically and turned to Stiles. "Dude, you reek of anxiety."
Stiles grimaced. "I was just imagining what would happen if you got drunk and lost control."
Jacob said, "That will never happen. So stop thinking about it." He turned back to Olenna. "Now, let's get serious."
Olenna set down her wine glass. "First, aren't you going to introduce yourself properly? Or is this your true face?"
Jacob shook his head. "No, it's not." He stood up. "Give us a moment. We'll go change our clothes and come back." He turned to Stiles. "Let's go back home."
They both disappeared, leaving Olenna and Mace staring at the empty space where they had been sitting.
---
Back in Serendell, Jacob handed Stiles a black noble's outfit—a long tunic with Jacob's sigil, along with pants and boots.
"Wear these," Jacob said. "After we talk with the old lady, we're going to..." He looked around to make sure none of his wives were nearby, then lowered his voice. "We're going to meet the Dragon Queen."
Stiles raised a brow. "Seriously, man? You got a new wife just a month ago. You need some help."
Jacob hit him with the clothes. "Shut up and go change. And if you say something to my girls or Erica when we come back, I swear I will make you regret it."
Stiles smirked. "Aren't they going to find out anyway?"
Jacob said, "They'll find out eventually, but not now. Besides, I'm just going to visit Daenerys, not marry her."
Stiles snorted. "Yeah, right."
He teleported to his room to change. Jacob teleported to his own room and began choosing from the clothes the system had rewarded him when he arrived in the Game of Thrones world.
After a few minutes, he settled on an outfit and put it on, then looked at the mirror.
He was wearing a black ensemble tailored for a king, crafted from rich fabrics embroidered with intricate gold filigree and crimson accents. A high-collared coat draped over a fitted tunic, while a flowing black cape lined in deep red rested on his shoulders, fastened with ornate golden clasps. Gold dragon motifs, delicate chains, and ruby-like gemstones adorned the outfit, and a dark red tie with a jewel-like brooch completed the look, giving it an air of elegance and authority. At his waist hung his sword, Griffin.
He posed dramatically. "Mirror, mirror on the wall—who's the most handsome man of all?" He paused, then answered himself. "Me. Obviously. And let's be real—the clothes should be grateful. I'm the one making them look good."
After admiring himself for a few more minutes, he teleported back to the garden and found Stiles already changed and waiting.
Stiles glared at him. "What took you so long?"
Jacob shrugged. "I was busy making my reflection jealous."
Stiles's face twitched. "Must be nice to be a narcissist like you. And couldn't you have given me something cool like what you're wearing?"
Jacob struck a pose. "These are a king's clothes. Peasants like you shouldn't dream about wearing them. Now let's head back, and you're going to introduce me to Olenna properly. If your introduction pleases me, I'll hook you up with her granddaughter."
Stiles groaned. "I told you, I don't want her granddaughter or any other girl. Erica is enough for me."
Jacob's eyes narrowed. "Coward. I just listened to your heartbeat. You lied."
Stiles said nervously, "No, I didn't."
Jacob smirked. "Yes, you did. Like I said before, just talk to Erica. She might agree."
Stiles shook his head. "Or she might bite me to death. Let's just go back to King's Landing."
---
They appeared back in Olenna's chambers, startling the old woman and her son. Olenna's eyes widened as she took in Jacob's transformation from the painted madman to the regal figure standing before her. Mace was trembling in fear as he recognized Jacob from the time he had tortured Meryn Trant in the small council chamber.
Jacob winked at her and said, "Stiles, if you will."
Stiles stepped forward and cleared his throat. "I present to you King Jacob Flameborn of House Alexander, the First of His Name, King of Dragons, Future King of Westeros, Protector of Women, the Most Handsome Man Alive, the Demon Slayer, King of the Free Folk and the Giants, the Conqueror."
Olenna realized who Jacob was and began sizing him up.
Jacob nodded at Stiles. "Nice. But don't say 'the First of His Name' when you introduce me again."
They both sat down, and Stiles asked, "Then should I say 'Jacob the First'?"
Jacob shook his head. "Nope."
Stiles frowned. "Why?"
Jacob said, "Because that means there will be another king of Westeros after me."
Stiles raised a brow. "Isn't there going to be a king after you?"
Jacob snorted. "Not anytime soon. You know how long my kind live, and my wives have long lifespans too. I'll be the king of Westeros for a long time."
Stiles smirked. "What if you have a son?"
Jacob's expression was dismissive. "Then the little punk should go build his own kingdom. Why should I give him mine?"
Olenna paid no attention to her son's terror. She hadn't spared him a glance since they entered the room—she'd already forgotten he was there. She interrupted Jacob and Stiles. "So you're the new King in the North—Jacob Alexander. You're not quite what I expected."
Jacob turned to her with a charming smile. "You were shocked by my handsomeness, right? Don't worry. You're not the first one."
Olenna chuckled. "You're an arrogant one, aren't you? But you're also right. You are handsome."
Jacob just smiled and winked at her.
Olenna studied him with amusement. "You're much younger than I thought. And I heard you have horns, that you're a demon, and there are rumors that you have red eyes and can breathe fire."
Jacob shook his head. "Well, I'm not a demon. But I do have powers."
Olenna nodded slowly. "I've seen you disappear, so I believe you have powers. The rumors say you have a dragon. Is that true?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes."
Olenna leaned forward. "How old is it?"
Jacob's voice was calm. "She's over three hundred years old. She's a famous dragon from the Dance of the Dragons era."
Olenna sat up straight, her expression turning serious. "Which dragon are you talking about?"
Jacob said, "One of the wild ones."
Olenna's eyes narrowed. "Sheepstealer? Or Grey Ghost?"
Jacob smiled. "You know your history. But not one of those two. She's the third one."
Olenna's voice was barely a whisper. "The Cannibal?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes. Her name is Kisarax, and she has grown into a giant monster bigger than Balerion the Black Dread. So you understand that conquering Westeros for me is an easy thing, right? Kisarax has grown so powerful that no human weapon can penetrate her scales. Her fire breath can burn large armies in minutes."
Olenna sighed. "If you truly possess a dragon larger than Balerion the Black Dread, then you have no need for an army. Your dragon alone could conquer Westeros. The only one who could stand against you is the Targaryen girl, but her dragons are too young. They'd likely end up as meals for the Cannibal."
Jacob leaned forward. "Alright, let's talk business. I want you to join my kingdom—you, your house, and the Reach."
Olenna studied him for a long moment. "And what's in it for me?"
Jacob's voice was flat. "You survive. Your house survives. You won't be burned to ash."
Olenna's eyes narrowed. "So you're the kind who burns everything to ash to get what he wants?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. Only the ones who stand in my way. I don't want war. But I won't avoid it either. I'll fight until they surrender or die."
Olenna's sharp eyes studied him, her wrinkled fingers tapping thoughtfully on the armrest of her chair. "What's your end game, boy? What kind of kingdom do you actually want to build?"
Jacob said, "I want to build a kingdom where everyone has the right to live free. Where they don't have to fear being murdered in their own homes or raped in the streets. Where they don't have to starve because a lord decided to hoard all the grain. Where they don't have to watch their children die of sickness that could have been cured."
He continued, "Education for everyone. Not just the sons of lords. Everyone. Boys, girls, highborn, lowborn. They'll learn to read, to write, to count. They'll learn trades—smithing, farming, healing. They'll learn how to build, how to govern, how to think for themselves."
"I will have laws that apply to everyone. Lord and peasant alike. No more lords raping and murdering with impunity. No more knights burning villages for sport. I will enforce those laws with an army of lawkeepers who answer to the crown—not to the local lord. They answer to me."
"I will expect loyalty and responsibility in return. The people of my kingdom will have the right to safety, food, clean water, education, and healthcare. But they will also have the duty to contribute. To follow the law. To pay fair taxes to support the kingdom. To serve in the army if called."
Olenna said dryly, "The lords will love that."
Jacob's smile turned sharp. "The lords will have a choice. They can accept the new order and keep their lands and titles, or they can resist and lose everything. I'm not interested in pleasing the nobles. I'm interested in building a kingdom where people don't want to rebel because they have nothing to rebel against."
Olenna studied him carefully. "That sounds like a beautiful, peaceful kingdom. But can you really burn anyone who opposes you? Can you be cruel enough to achieve peace? Or are you just pretending in front of an old woman like me?"
Jacob said, "I'm well aware that peace doesn't come from treaties and promises. People will forget a treaty. They will forget promises. And if I show them mercy when they oppose me, they will think it's weakness. They will oppose me again and again and expect me to forgive them. So I will show no mercy to my enemies. I will give them a wound they will never forget. That way, they will guard their peace like starving dogs guard meat."
Olenna's voice was calm. "They will call you a mad king. A tyrant. A monster. They will fear you."
He met her eyes and smirked. "I don't care. To achieve peace, I'm willing to be the monster everyone fears—so that when I finally stop, they will call it mercy and weep with gratitude."
Olenna was silent for a long moment. Then she smiled—a slow, calculating smile.
"You're either the most dangerous man I've ever met," she said, "or the most foolish. I haven't decided which yet. But I'll tell you what—the Lannisters are already my enemies since Cersei helped that dirty bastard who calls himself the High Sparrow put both my grandchildren in a dungeon. So I'm willing to join your kingdom. But you have to save my grandchildren, get us out of King's Landing safely, and I want to see your dragon with my own eyes."
Jacob smiled. "Alright. I will save the future of your house, get you all safely out of King's Landing, and show you Kisarax. In return, you will swear allegiance to me and join my kingdom."
Olenna nodded. "You have my word."
Jacob stood up. "I'll be right back."
He disappeared.
Olenna looked at Stiles. "Where did he go?"
Stiles shrugged. "He went to bring your grandchildren, I guess."
Olenna's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Does he really have multiple wives?"
Stiles nodded. "Yeah. Five of them. And probably six soon."
Olenna went silent, her mind clearly working. Stiles realized she was probably thinking of marrying her granddaughter to Jacob, but he wisely chose to say nothing.
---
The Great Sept of Baelor — Margaery's Cell
Jacob appeared in front of Margaery's cell in the Sept of Baelor. He busted the door open and entered.
Margaery, who had been tortured by Septa Unella for days, was huddled in the corner, trembling with fear. She looked up, her eyes wide with terror.
Jacob called out, "Come on. Let's go. Your grandmother is waiting."
Margaery stared at him, momentarily speechless.
Jacob sighed dramatically. "Being handsome can be troublesome sometimes."
He walked to her, and she didn't remove her eyes from him until he grabbed her arm and made her stand.
Margaery came back to her senses and backed away. "Who are you?"
Jacob's voice was calm. "I'm your new king. Now let's go get your brother and leave this disgusting place."
Margaery's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by 'the new king'? My husband is the king."
Jacob ignored her and used his x-ray vision to look through the walls until he found Loras in his cell. He grabbed Margaery with his telekinesis, teleported them to Loras's cell, cast a cleaning spell on both of them, then grabbed them both and teleported back to Olenna's chambers.
---
Olenna, who had been deep in thought, suddenly saw Jacob appear with both her grandchildren. She stood up and hugged Margaery tightly.
"Oh, my dear," Olenna said, her voice thick with emotion. "What have they done to you?"
Margaery didn't say anything. She just burst into tears.
Mace looked awkwardly at his son and didn't know what to do.
After Margaery calmed down, Olenna checked on Loras, then sat down with Margaery and looked at Jacob. "I want to add another condition."
Jacob, who had just dismissed the system notification of the quest completed and left the sign-in for later, looked at her. "No. You may not. We already made a deal. And do keep in mind that like I brought them here, I can take them back where they were in the blink of an eye. And you can do nothing to stop me."
Olenna said, "I don't want to go back on my word. This condition will be to your liking. But even if you refuse it, I'll still keep my word."
Jacob's eyes narrowed. "I'm listening." He saw Stiles smirking and frowned, turning back to Olenna.
Olenna's voice was calm. "I want you to marry my granddaughter."
Margaery's eyes went wide. "Grandmother! I'm a married woman!"
Olenna's voice was sharp. "Don't remind me of that useless little cunt you call a husband. He is the king and couldn't even get you out. Useless piece of shit."
Margaery's voice was strained. "Calm down, Grandmother."
Olenna sighed. "Anyway, you will end your marriage with Tommen."
Margaery's brow furrowed. "I can't do that, Grandmother. What will people say about me?"
Olenna opened her mouth to respond, but Jacob cut her off. "Ladies, there's no need for you to discuss a divorce or an annulment or whatever you call it. I don't want to marry Margaery."
Olenna's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Jacob's voice was flat. "She's not my type."
Olenna's brow furrowed. "Isn't she a beauty?"
Jacob looked at Margaery and nodded. "Indeed she is a beauty. But I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about her personality. She will not fit with my other wives."
Margaery's eyes went wide. "You have other wives? That's against the law! The Faith does not permit it!"
Jacob's voice was calm. "I will remake the laws. As for the Faith, I don't believe in the Seven. I only believe in the one true God—the Creator of everything."
Margaery looked at her grandmother. "Who is this guy?"
Olenna's voice was tired. "Our new king." She addressed Jacob. "Do you really not want to marry her?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. She's not my type."
He turned to Loras, who was looking at him like a man appreciating fine art—eyes tracing every detail. Jacob's voice dropped cold. "If you keep staring at me like that, I will kill you."
Loras, who had been tortured by the Sparrows until he had become timid, flinched and looked away.
Jacob turned back to Olenna. "By the way, Olenna. I don't want your son or your grandson to be the head of House Tyrell."
Olenna frowned. "Why?"
Jacob's voice was cold. "I don't like your grandson. I don't want him looking at me like that every time we meet. Only women are allowed to look at me like that—not men." He looked at Mace. "And your son is a fool."
Mace cowered behind his mother's chair, his voice trembling. "Please, I beg you—spare me! I'll give up my lordship. I'll do anything. Just please, don't kill me!"
Olenna looked at her son with disgust. "What's wrong with you, you coward?"
Mace's voice was trembling. "Mother, do you remember the sorcerer I told you about—the one who appeared in the small council chamber and tortured Ser Meryn Trant by beating him half to death, then healing him with a wave of his hand, only to beat him again and heal him and repeat that until Ser Meryn Trant lost his mind?" He pointed at Jacob. "It's him!"
Olenna and Margaery both looked at Jacob.
Jacob's voice was calm. "I'm not a sorcerer." He looked at Mace. "Get up. I don't want to harm you, you old fool."
Stiles asked, "Jacob, who is Meryn Trant?"
Jacob's voice was cold. "Some idiot knight who used to beat Sansa when she was captive here in King's Landing."
Stiles smirked. "I see. I assume that poor bastard is dead?"
Jacob nodded. "Yeah. I took him to Sansa and Arya. Arya tortured him until he was begging for a merciful death."
Jacob turned back to Olenna. "Anyway, Olenna, you should be the head of House Tyrell—or your granddaughter. The men of your house are... incompetent."
Olenna nodded. "Okay. I'll do it. Although my stupid son was the Lord of Highgarden, I was always the one who really made the decisions."
Jacob nodded approvingly. "Good." He looked at Margaery. "Now, about Tommen. Do you love him? Or was he just a tool?"
Margaery's brow furrowed. "Why do you ask? Do you intend to kill him? He may be a Lannister, but he's innocent and kind."
Jacob shook his head. "No. You misunderstood. I don't want to harm him. I only asked to know if you want to take him with you to Highgarden or abandon him here. Let's just say that he was kind to my wife when she needed kindness the most—even if he probably doesn't remember it. But I don't like owing people anything. So I want to save him from this place. We both know you played that boy too much, and he is deeply in love with you. If you leave him here, either he will starve himself to death, or try to take his own life, or Cersei will either turn him evil like his bastard brother or get him killed. So answer my question."
Margaery was silent for a long moment. Then she said, "I'm not sure how I feel about him. But he is my husband, and if you can help me take him with us, that would be great." She turned to her grandmother. "But do we really have to leave King's Landing and follow this strange king? I mean, I'm the Queen. If we can get rid of Cersei, we can be the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms."
Olenna shook her head. "That's impossible with him around."
Margaery looked at Jacob. "From which house is he?"
Olenna's voice was tired. "It doesn't matter, dear. He has a thirty-thousand-man army with giants and mammoths among them. He and his family wield powers we can't comprehend. And he's married to Sansa Stark. That means he'll have the North soon enough—and likely the Vale as well. And the most important thing is that he has a giant dragon. So you see, even if we kill Cersei now and rule Westeros, it will only be for a little while until he comes for us. Or he might kill us right now."
Mace's voice was tinged with panic. "Margaery, please—listen to your grandmother. We cannot afford to provoke His Grace."
Jacob said, "Alright, Olenna. Gather your things and your men. Let's go. I still have to go meet someone." He paused. "And remember to apologize to Sansa when you meet her."
Olenna's brow furrowed. "Apologize for what?"
Jacob's voice was cold. "For using her as a scapegoat when you poisoned Joffrey to death."
Olenna's eyes widened. "How did you know I was the one who poisoned him?"
Jacob's expression was flat. "Littlefinger confessed before we killed him. And he did not die a quick death. So be sure to apologize to Sansa."
Olenna nodded slowly. "I never meant to harm her. But I will apologize to her when we meet."
Jacob nodded. Olenna left with her family to gather her men and things.
Jacob teleported to the throne room and used his x-ray vision to find Tommen's room. He appeared there, finding the young king lying listlessly in bed with his cat.
Jacob woke him up and told him he could leave with Margaery, but he had to give up the throne.
Tommen didn't think twice. He chose to leave King's Landing and his mother and give up the throne.
Jacob teleported with him and his cat back to Olenna's quarters and sat waiting with Stiles until Olenna returned and told him they were ready to leave.
Jacob teleported her, all her people, Tommen, and Stiles to Highgarden's front gate—he had visited the place before with his wives. Everyone except Stiles was disoriented, and some vomited. They were shocked, not understanding how they had traveled from King's Landing to Highgarden in the blink of an eye.
---
After everyone had recovered, Jacob teleported Stiles, Olenna, and Margaery to a wilderness area far from Highgarden. He summoned Kisarax from Serendell.
Kisarax emerged from the portal, her massive form blotting out the sun. Her scales shimmered like obsidian, and her eyes glowed with ancient wisdom and power. She was immense—larger than anything Olenna had ever seen or imagined.
Jacob stood before Kisarax and spoke to her in High Valyrian. Kisarax rumbled in response, her voice shaking the ground beneath their feet.
After a few moments, Jacob sent Kisarax back through the portal to Serendell.
Olenna and Margaery slowly came back to their senses.
Olenna's voice was barely a whisper. "When you told me about your dragon, I didn't believe you. Or perhaps I refused to—because believing would have meant accepting how powerless I truly am."
Jacob smiled. "I was surprised when I first saw her too. I didn't think a dragon that big was living in this world."
Olenna's voice was filled with awe. "Alright. With that dragon, I would be a fool not to join you."
She swore allegiance to Jacob, her voice steady and sincere. Jacob asked her to cut her supplies to King's Landing and told her that in a few days, he would come back to visit and give her something she could use to communicate with him.
Then he took her and Margaery back to Highgarden. He and Stiles rose into the air, flying toward Meereen using Jacob's telekinesis.
To be continued... 😊
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