My Fanfic Stash and Favorite online quests

Words: 62k+

Links:

https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/a-playwrights-plight-or-how-to-stay-alive-while-hosting-a-boy-that-wants-everyone-dead-asoiaf-si.951583/

https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/a-playwrights-plight-or-how-to-stay-alive-while-hosting-a-boy-that-wants-everyone-dead-asoiaf-si.92368/

(Alas, fate dictates that when a man is brought to this world around this time period, he must be involved in the dynastic disputes of Westeros... In my case, as I opened the door...)

Chapter the First: Or how I met an exiled Princeling and his sister

I've had this idea floating around my head in various iterations for some time now, let's see where my damn muses take us this time.

Braavos, 290 AC

I had been here for over ten years already, when someone knocked on my door at midnight.

Over the last decade I'd heard of many a great event. I'd heard of Aerys' Madness, of the rebellion that deposed him, and of the escape of the remaining Targaryens to this very city. I had met them even, or rather, I'd written a play to which Ser Willem Darry was invited -and to which he brought them, for it was a fairly private affair- Still, it went off well, and apparently that daft idiot Ser Darry decided that I had to be some form of sympathizer.

Was it my fault that they were invited to a play I had written, based on the doomed Rising of '45? I was riding high from the success of Medea -the Braavosi absolutely loved it, how was I supposed to know that Ser Willem Darry would be invited to the first performance of Culloden?

I'd dined with the man once after that, some three years ago, and I was very clear on it. The play was not about Targaryens and Baratheons, it was based on an old tale I'd heard from a sailor in my youth -as I often claimed such tales to be- I was not particularly invested in the happenings of Westeros, if anything, I preferred to stay away from that continent and its politics. And any similarity between Bonnie Prince Charlie and any would-be King of Westeros was entirely coincidental.

The last thing I wanted, after all, was to find myself on the wrong side of a certain spider. And while I don't think he bought it, he didn't bother me after that.

Alas, fate dictates that when a man is brought to this world around this time period, he must be involved in the dynastic disputes of Westeros, if a man escapes to Yi-Ti, then he finds himself befriending a Boxing Maester and eventually dragged to Oldtown, if a man makes for the Summer Isles, he eventually finds himself on a Swan Ship fighting for one Westerosi King or another -or, at the very least, having to fight that accursed Crow's Eye- if he tries to make a living on the Free Cities, in anything that will, in theory, put him away from having to deal with Westeros, he may find himself becoming the accountant for Ser Darry.

In my case, as I opened the door, stood none other than Viserys Targaryen -all of 15 years old, worried and scared- and a very much asleep 7-year old Daenerys in his arms.

I must admit that I stood there for a second or two, like some sort of idiot, wondering.

It was a rather rainy night, and the two were soaked. After almost a minute I stood aside and let them in. As much as I value my own life and would rather not have anything to do with Westerosi Politics or anyone involved, they were children for God's sake, I could not bring myself to just let them out in the rain.

"I'll have a bath drawn for you, and some food. After that both of you will sleep, and we'll figure out the rest in the morning." I told Viserys once I locked the door, too tired, and too worried about my own skin to be bothered with platitudes and formalities. He seemed to accept it.

I had become a man of habit, Every morning I would wake up and do something that more people did in this world than you would expect. I prayed. Of course, I did not pray to any of the many gods worshipped in Braavos. One of the advantages of this city is that no one looked at me strangely when I referred to worshipping a single god, even if it was just ingrained in my speech, and no one batted an eye if I didn't show up at any temple, or if they ran into the admittedly empty icon corner of my chambers.

Once that was dealt with, I came down to the dining table. And I must admit that the not too big house I lived on in Braavos was not too different in layout from the house I had lived on so long ago. Having become a fairly wealthy playwright, I had three servants -all of them free of course, this is Braavos, and even if it weren't, I could not bring myself to own slaves if it were legal- Tormo was more of a guard -a freed pit-fighter who towered a head above anyone but a Lengii and a veritable mountain of muscle, he was from Norvos- Taella worked the kitchen, and Annaria did the washing and prepared baths. As such, it was Taella that brought my breakfast, then I saw just what I had hoped to have been a bad dream. Annaria walked from one of the guest chambers -I had two- with a fifteen-year-old valyrian and his seven-year-old sister in tow.

"Shit." I muttered, waiting for them to be seated as Taella brought food for them both.

Viserys and I eyed one another warily for a moment, then I spoke.

"Listen, boy," I raised a hand when he was about to demand respect, "No, you must listen, if you are to take shelter with me while things get stable, you need to do so in hiding. I can assure you that the Baratheon's spymaster must be looking for you, and I happen to like being alive." That seemed to settle him. "I have no reason to aid you, but I have no reason to give you to them either, so, the two of you will dye your hair, I will claim you as my long lost half-siblings, and you must understand that no one will call you by fancy titles for the time being. If that doesn't work for you, then you'll still dye your hair while we can figure out if there's someone who will host you without being in the spymaster's payroll... So, which one will it be, Your Grace." I figured I could throw a bone, so to speak, at the end.

"I...I" Viserys seemed to hesitate, I just waited. "I can hide." He seemed scared, had he had a run in with Tormo? Or was it something else? "We will hide here, at least until the world believes we are dead, then we will return and I will take my throne."

With a small sigh I shrugged.

"Good, pick some names, I'll get the dyes in the afternoon. Feel free to explore the house, but don't go out until I've acquired the dyes and you've used them."

I was sure, that morning, that I would very much regret this whole thing.