Game of thrones: A storm is coming

** Major Announcement**

Yeah, so I've been thinking about the contradictory feedbacks I'm getting and decided to just give up trying to make sense of everything, and do my own thing. No matter what you do , you can't make everyone happy, unless you write a harem story with kinky r-18 stuff . So, I'm gonna just write as best as I can, and hopefully it should be good, considering what I've planned for it. 

This chapter, although light hearted, would be crucial for setting the Mc's future personality and plot direction. The theme would be slowly changed to comedic tone with magical influence from now on, until the serious stuff starts later in volume 5. It's like a personality changing over time. He's not a gamer who lacks emotions, he's just like rest of us. 

Enough ranting, I feel like freakin Kanye !

Relax and enjoy this , some of you definitely will **

Before leaving Pentos, Daeron gathered his closest allies. Standing before them in the council hall, he outlined his plan. "Volantis is a city filled with power and wealth, but it is divided. We will use their internal discords to our advantage. Orlen, you will remain here to oversee Pentos and Nessa, you'll come with me. We'll need every scrap of information we can get."

Nessa grinned, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Oh, I can't wait to see the troubles we'll stir up there."

"Orlen," Daeron spoke, his tone firm, "Ensure the merchant princes stay in line, and keep an eye on the Archon. If he shows any sign of betrayal…"

Orlen smirked. "He won't live long enough to regret it."

Daeron turned to Jax , who stood in the shadows silently as always. "You'll come too. If things get... complicated, I'll need your expertise."

With Acnologia perched on the outskirts of the city, Daeron prepared to depart. The people of Pentos watched in awe as the great black dragon took to the skies, its wings casting a shadow over the city.

Daeron's departure marked the beginning of a new chapter in his journey. Pentos was secure, but the true test of his ambition lay ahead. In Volantis, he would face greater challenges if acted like before. The path to power was fraught with danger, but Daeron knew one thing for certain: with Acnologia by his side, nothing was beyond his reach.

Volantis, a city of grandeur, power, and hidden dangers. It was one of the largest and oldest cities in Essos, a place where the tigers, the ruling military elite, clashed with the elephants, the wealthy merchants, for control. Volantis was a powder keg, and Daeron quickly realized that, despite its outward glory, the city was ripe for manipulation.

Upon his arrival, Daeron carefully observed the internal struggles of Volantis. The tigers, ambitious and militaristic, sought to expand their reach and power. The elephants, however, were more focused on wealth and diplomacy, wary of the tiger faction's growing influence. Daeron knew he could exploit these divisions, using both sides for his own benefit.

Daeron chose to remain in the shadows for his first weeks in Volantis. Presenting himself as a wandering mercenary with a small retinue, he quickly integrated into the city's bustling lower quarters. He took a humble lodging near the docks, far from the Black Wall, and avoided flaunting Acnologia's presence. Nessa disguised him very well, and silver hair was not that uncommon here. So he avoided troubles for a while.

Through careful observation, Daeron began to unravel the threads of Volantis' politics. The Tigers controlled the Black Wall and the legions, but their influence was limited by the Elephants, who provided the gold to fund their armies. Neither side trusted the other, and both were eager to tip the scales in their favor. Volantis' economy was built on the backs of slaves, marked by tiger tattoos as property.

Yet among them, whispers of rebellion grew louder. The slaves looked to the Red Priests of R'hllor for hope, who in turn sought to shape the growing unrest to serve their faith. The city's attention was divided between its internal struggles and external rivals. Myr and Lys had begun encroaching on Volantis' trade routes, and pirates from the Stepstones preyed on their fleets.

But he wasn't here to play mere politics; he needed strong soldiers and allies. He visited the city's fighting pits, where mercenaries, slaves, and the desperate fought for survival. The pits were a breeding ground for the kind of men Daeron needed, those who had no loyalty to anyone and lost hope in life.

Men who would die for him if he freed them and treated them well. Daeron knew loyalty could be bought easily in this world, so he also chose to command respect and fear.

It was here that Daeron encountered Spartan, a renowned gladiator with the strength to kill any opponent but a decent person under his rough exterior.

Daeron struck a deal with him. In exchange for a handsome sum and the promise to help him free his friends, Spartan agreed to join Daeron's growing force, bringing his followers with him. He only accepted Daeron because he was just a child, and in Spatan's words, "A child can never betray or kill anyone willingly for no reason; if he does, that's when I'll consider humanity is dead."

Spartan was no ordinary warrior; his battles were precise, almost artful, and his sharp gaze revealed a tactical mind beneath the blood-soaked exterior. Daeron approached Spartan after one of his victories. Standing among the stench of sweat and blood, he spoke with a confidence that belied his youth. "You fight like a man with nothing left to lose," Daeron said.

Spartan wiped the blood from his hands, eyeing Daeron skeptically. "And you speak like a boy with something to prove."

Daeron smirked. "Not just a boy, a man with a dragon. Join me, and I'll give you freedom. Not just for yourself, but for the men you lead. Follow me, and you'll fight for something greater than survival. Spartan's gaze lingered on Daeron, studying him. "You have a dragon, yet you stand here, recruiting gladiators. Either you're a fool or you're dangerous. For your sake, I hope it's the latter."

Spartan's brutality in the pits made him a valuable asset. He understood how to inspire fear and how to control men who lived only for the next fight.

His brutal strength made him a natural leader among the mercenaries, and his personality demanded respect and trust. and Daeron's offer of greater power and freedom proved enticing. Daeron, however, wasn't interested in Spartan's loyalty out of fear or weakness; he was interested in using Spartan's influence to recruit more men to his cause.

After his preparations were done , He summoned Acnologia ,who came flying across the night sky, a dark silhouette against the Volantene skies. It didn't take long for whispers of the dragon rider to spread, and with them came both fear and curiosity.

He didn't want to make any major move in Volantis for now; doing so would raise alert for the rest. Volantis and Bravos are the two main pillars of Essos, while Yi Ti was mostly self sufficient and rich to stand on it''s own. Daeron wished to see the golden lands someday, this place was never shown or mentioned much.

He came here as just a mercenary with a good reputation and a dragon. He would only plant his people and gain a foothold for now, letting the seed sprout and grow with time. He will also help further the conflict between the ruling factions, making them ripe for picking later. 

Daeron's next move was to plant the seeds of rebellion within the city's vast slave population. Through Spartan's connections and Nessa's network of spies, Daeron began spreading whispers of freedom and equality. He knew that outright rebellion would take time to foment, but the unrest served his purposes.

By stirring up discontent among the slaves, Daeron distracted the Tigers, who relied on the slaves to maintain their legions. He still remembered the failures of Daenerys in slavers bay. Success can't be achieved by brute force or goodwill.

Over the following weeks, Daeron carefully placed his people within Volantis' power structure. Spartan began recruiting from the fighting pits, forming the foundation of a loyal force. Nessa infiltrated the Elephants' inner circles, while Jax worked in the shadows, eliminating potential threats before they could act. Daeron himself avoided the spotlight, mostly partying with the nobles and getting to know their weaknesses and interests. He convinced them that once he grows older, he plans to build a foothold in the stepstones, founding a kingdom that would further help Essos hold the narrow sea. 

Needless to say, they were very interested and promised to support him if he plans to occupy it. The land was barren and poor with only pricay as income source. Even if he became a king there, it will have to rely on the triarchy for support. Daeron insisted that he wishes to have friends in the free cities for his future endeavours, and he needed a population and resources to hold the stepstones. He offered to help them with the dothraki in return, which was also an offer they couldn't refuse.

Daeron stayed in Volantis for almost nine months, and his time for departure was here. But before leaving, Daeron decided to visit the famous red temple. He was curious about this place after seeing the, um, let's call them interesting things about them in the show.

He wondered if the priests from the show were the same ones now, as they were shown to live for a very long time.

The Red Temple, Volantis

The Red Temple of Volantis towered above the city like a giant, flaming pastry someone forgot to take out of the oven. Its spires were impossibly tall.

its walls blood-red, and the smoke pouring from the braziers gave the whole place a vibe that screamed, "Cult gathering at seven, bring your own flames."

Daeron entered with Nessa and Jax in tow. The priests glided around like ghosts, their scarlet robes billowing dramatically for no apparent reason. Everyone turned to stare, and Daeron could practically hear the whispers: "Is that the dragon boy? Is he here for the prophecy or the free snacks?"

"Cheery place," Nessa muttered, looking around.

"Perfect spot for a lighthearted vacation," Daeron replied dryly.

At the center of it all was the current High Priestess Velyria, standing on a raised dais as if she owned the room, which, to be fair, she probably did. She had fiery red hair and green eyes, a knowing smirk, and the overall aura of someone who can see through you.

"You've come," she said, her voice as smooth as silk. "The flames have whispered of your arrival. A white haired boy with the sword that is the bane of all cold."

"Flames whisper? That sounds like a fire hazard," Daeron said, folding his arms. "I assume they don't do small talk."

Velyria ignored the quip, her gaze fixed on him with unnerving intensity. "You are not of this time. Yet here you stand, born amidst the dancing dragons. You are the one we were told about. The Prince That Was Promised."

Daeron blinked. "Say what now? I think the flames need new glasses. I'm a bastard with a dragon and some really questionable life choices." He thought to himself, ' Fuck! Did I steal poor Jon's identity? But he did say he didn't want it...'

"The flames do not lie," she said, with a slight frown, as if Daeron's sarcasm personally offended her. "But they are... perplexed. You are too early. Or perhaps we were too late. And that sword, It absorbs cold, rather than lightbringer who brings fire."

Daeron glanced at Nessa, who gave him an innocent shrug. "Don't look at me," she said. "I don't do time travel."

"Wait, wait," Daeron said, holding up a hand. "What exactly am I early for? The world's most awkward family reunion? A long line at the market sale? " He crossed his fingers and kept chanting in his mind, ' Please don't say the long night, please don't say the long night.....'

Velyria sighed as if explaining something to a particularly slow child. "The Long Night, the battle between fire and ice, the end of the world as we know it. You are the balance, the salvation, the—"

"Sonofabitch!" Daeron exclaimed, cutting her off, which made her rase an eyebrow. "Great, just what I needed. A prophecy hanging over my head."

Velyria, still maintaining her mystic composure (though Daeron was sure he saw her roll her eyes), led him deeper into the temple. Nessa and Jax followed, the former looking vaguely amused while the latter stayed silent, probably debating whether or not to stab someone for fun.

The inner sanctum was a room filled with fire—like, a lot of fire. It was everywhere: in braziers, in sconces, in a giant pit in the middle of the room. The air smelled like someone had overcooked dinner for the entire city.

"Stare into the flames," Velyria instructed. "It will reveal what you seek to know."

"Do I get a marshmallow for this?" Daeron muttered under his breath.

Nessa snickered, but the High Priestess either didn't hear or chose to ignore him.

Daeron stepped up to the pit, cautiously leaning forward. The fire flickered and danced, and then, without warning, the visions began like an acid trip.

First, He saw a man who looked like him with a beautiful black haired woman, holding a child. Then he saw the woman again, alone this time, sickly and pale. She dropped off the child in front of a door and left slowly, but crumbled after a going little further. - What kind of shitty backstory is this, Daeron thought.

Then He saw him flying over the ruins of a great city with someone, but they fell down, then his vison was blurred and it changed.

A battlefield filled his view, where Daeron stood older, clad in a Silver and blue armor that screamed "edgy warlord," swinging Frostmourne around like he was the main character in a bad action novel.

Behind him, Acnologia was deep frying people left and right, looking suspiciously smug about it.

A throne, dark and jagged, appeared next. Daeron reached for it dramatically, only for the whole thing to crumble into a heap of swords, leaving him standing there awkwardly with a handful of nothing.

A woman's sorrowful voice echoed in his head: "Please don't leave me Daeron, you promised!" She didn't show her face, which was just rude, in Daeron's opinion. Is that my future lover or something? She sounds so fine- he thought.

Finally, a sea of icy zombies shuffled into view. Daeron, looking thoroughly unimpressed, stood at the edge of a cliff while the undead moaned ominously.

The visions snapped away, leaving Daeron blinking at the fire like it had just personally insulted him. A fiery aura was surrounding him, which slowly crept into his body.

"What... the actual fuck!" he muttered, staggering back.

"That," Velyria said with a satisfied smile, "was your destiny, my Prince." She bowed gently.

Daeron looked at her, then at Nessa. "So my destiny involves zombies, drama queens, and a throne made of swords that doesn't even work. Fabulous."

Nessa gave a reply in her usual flirty tone, " Drama queens? Already thinking about a harem , my little dragon? I don't mind though.." Daeron just gave up and shook his head.

'Wait a minute! A throne made of swords…. motherfucker! Did I fail to get the iron throne?'

Daeron rubbed his face, trying to process everything. "Let me get this straight. I'm some cosmic savior who wasn't even supposed to be here yet, and now I've got to deal with all this... mess? Great. Just fantastic."

But in his mind he was freaking out. ' Why the hell do I have to fight the white walkers! That's supposed to be 200 years later! Have I butterfly effected the whole timeline? How do I undo this shit? This changes everything. I have to ensure I am prepared to fight them after becoming king, rather than relaxing and having fun!'

"You have a choice," Velyria said solemnly. "Embrace the fire, or let the ice consume you."

"Yeah, I choose 'none of the above,' thanks," Daeron said, throwing up his hands. "But since that's not an option, I guess I'll just deal with it in my own way. That's what I've been doing so far, and hey, I've still got all my limbs."

The High Priestess gave him an enigmatic smile. "You walk a fine line between cynicism and destiny, Daeron . Go forth, and may the Lord of Light guide you."

Daeron turned to leave, muttering to himself, "Yeah, because that's what I needed, a deity with a pyro obsession watching my every move." As Velyria escorted him to the entrance, Daeron paused and looked at a Young girl about 16-17 years old. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn't remember who.

Velyria followed his gaze and looked at the girl, then smirked, " Oh Yeah, that's your future stalk….. ehem , let's say follower. She will be your counselor and communication link with the red temple. Since you are the chosen prince, we will obviously assist you in any way."

Daeron asked with stars in his eyes, " Can you, say, kill all the rulers, and my enemies in the world, and help me become emperor in a year?"

Velyria raised an eyebrow and replied, " You really are an odd one. I almost feel like taking her place and going with you myself, it would be more amusing. But no, we don't do mass assassinations. Neither are we omnipotent. We do have other specific skills that can help you." to which Daeron muttered 'Tsk, overrated pyromaniacs."

They walked towards the girl who was reading, who stood up and bowed upon seeing Velyria. " Greetings high priestess and young guest."

Velyria waved nonchalantly and replied, " The boy standing beside me is the prince that was promised by our lord, Daeron Penndragon is his name. In future, you shall accompany him on his journey once you learn the advanced spells, and act as our emissary. Spread the lord's shining light across the world."

Daeron awkwardly smiled to the girl who looked at him with shock and fanaticism. He nervously said, " Hello there. Nice to meet you. I guess I'll be relying on you in the future..?"

"Ahnn…. ugh…. haaa~"

Daeron looked at the girl who was shaking, then looked at Velyria, "Did she just…."

Velyria sighed and bonked the girl in the head. " Get yourself together, and introduce yourself first. You are creeping him out."

The girl somehow controlled herself and kneeled down. She spoke in a fanatical voice, "Oh how blessed I feel, to be in the presence of the chosen one of lord of the light. Humble servant Kinvara thanks my prince for this opportunity.

I shall dedicate myself entirely for your service, my body, soul and knowledge. I shall burn your enemies and purify the world in your name as we writhe in the glory of the lord…."

" Oh Hell nah!" Daeron sharply turned towards Velyria and yelled, " Bring me someone who's not insane! This bit*h is crazy !"

Kinvara looked like her puppy was steamrolled by a truck as she tearfully asked," Does the prince find me unworthy of yourself? I only desire to fulfill your wishes and stand beside you. If you don't wish my presence me, I shall ask for forgiveness with my life!" She took out a dagger out of somewhere and prepared to stab herself.

Daeron grabbed her hand and exclaimed, " What the hell is wrong with you! Do you have a single cell working in your brain !"

Kinvara blushed and tearfully replied, " My only goal in life to stand beside the prince that was promised, and help him spread the glory of our lord. So if you can't accept me, there's no meaning left for me to live."

Daeron looked at the two sane woman for help, but they both turned their heads, but from their shaking body, he was certain they were laughing at him. 'Is this the so called springtime of youth? Fuck you Hachiman, it actually exists!' He thought to himself.

He sighed and looked back at Kinvara who had a blissful smile with her eyes closed, and said, " Alright, you can follow me in future, if you can behave normally, like a SANE person."

But after a while, he didn't hear any answer. He stared at her face and found she had passed out, drooling from both above and below.

Velyria coughed to hide the embarrassment and spoke, " You might want to let go of her hand now Daeron." To which he realized he was still grabbing her arm, and let go. He then sighed while rubbing his head and replied, " I should leave now, I can only take this much crazy in one day."

Velyria giggled and replied, " Go and get some rest, my prince. You'll need it . And don't forget to visit us , you know you will find a lot of devoted woman here, waiting for you ." She winked.

Daeron looked at her, then thought something, and nodded to himself. Velyria tilted her head in curiosity as Daeron approached her.

'Smack!'

Nessa looked at Daeron dumbfounded as he just smacked the ass of the high priestess who looked at him weirdly . Daeron ran away while yelling," I'm staying at least hundred miles away from Volantis, you bunch of crazy women!"

 Velyria and Nessa looked at each other. Nessa awkwardly bowed and walked away while muttering, " why didn't he do that to me ever!"

Velyria walked quickly towards her room, barely nodding to the priests as they greeted her. Once she was in her room and locked the door, she immediately let out a heart stirring moan, " Ahanngh~" and fell down on her bed.

Her calm and calculated eyes turned into a crazy look, almost a heart symbol popping up. " He touched me! And so forcefully! Ah my prince, I was barely holding in myself, then you had to wake this side of me! Now I definitely can't leave you alone ~" She rolled in the bed with a crazy grin. 

Meanwhile, the red priests were discussing what just happened. A bald priest muttered, " I heard if the prince touches your bald head, it will be cured." Another priest slapped his head and said, " Your head is like a barren field bro, no crops can grow there."

A female priestess discusssed something while blushing, " It's said the mere touch of the prince can give you the greatest pleasure. Sister Kinvara passed out when he touched her . Even the high priestess looked aroused after he smacked her behind." The other priestesses also blushed and whispered among themselves. It probably wasn't anything good for our hero's mental wellbeing.

Daeron shivered as he left the temple, and walked quickly. Nessa grinned at him. "Well, that was fun. You got a prophecy, some cool visions, a crazy fanatic follower with a whole cult of women seeking to please you, and a free existential crisis. What's next, my little dragon ?"

Daeron groaned, climbing onto Acnologia's back. "Next? We leave this fiery nightmare behind and get back to what I'm good at—scheming. And maybe finding a way to get a refund on this whole 'Prince That Was Promised' nonsense."

With a flap of Acnologia's wings, they soared into the skies, leaving the Red Temple and its fiery prophecies behind. Well, mostly. The thought of those visions lingered in Daeron's mind, much to his annoyance.

"Prince That Was Promised my ass," he muttered. "More like Guy Who Was Promised a Headache." 

'How the hell do I prepare for this without knowing when it might happen, not to mention the stress and planning it would need. I really wish I was in a wish fullfilment fic with OP powers.' Daeron sighed.

As Daeron prepared to leave Volantis, he called a meeting with his closest allies in a secluded chamber. "This city is a storm waiting to break," he said. "We've planted the seeds of our influence here. When the time comes, they'll grow into something powerful."

He turned to Spartan. "Stay here and continue building our force. The slaves and mercenaries will look to you for leadership."

To Nessa, he said, "Keep your ear to the ground. The Red Priests are powerful, but they're not omnipotent. We need to know what they're planning before they even discuss it ."

With his instructions given, Daeron left Volantis, his sights set on the next step in his journey. Or maybe he was just running away from someone. As he was leaving he swore he could see a red head poking out of his room's window. That's probably my trauma acting up, he shook his head.

As Acnologia's wings carried him into the skies, Daeron knew that the foundations he had laid in Volantis would one day bear fruit. The city was only a piece of the puzzle, a stepping stone on his path to ultimate power. As for the prophecy? 

It's not a concern of his for now. He had bigger things to worry about. And prophecies are overrated anyway.