Chapter 155: The True God

You didn’t wanna make things perfect. You just hated things the way they are.

–Rocket Raccoon, Guardians of the Galaxy

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King Robert Baratheon gripped his warhammer so hard his knuckles went white. Ned Stark had a hand on Ice. Both of them looked ready to shit themselves.

"Ned..."

Robert stared at the three dragons, voice shaking. "The Seven above. I told you if we didn’t wipe out every last Targaryen they would come back, you stubborn old bastard!"

"You believe me now?"

Ned didn’t answer. He was looking at the man standing on the black dragon’s head.

Catelyn had written about a cloaked figure who called himself a god, fixed Bran, then vanished.

Ned believed in the old gods. He did not believe any man could do that.

A fraud. Or the maester got the diagnosis wrong.

Catelyn believed every word.

He had calmed her down. The mystery man never showed again in three years.

Now the same man was back with three dragons.

"That’s not Targaryen power, Robert." Ned’s throat was dry. "Catelyn’s letter said he called himself a god. He cured Bran and disappeared."

Robert already knew. He was terrified of the man down to the bone.

Three years ago Robert should have been dead.

This man saved him.

Robert sold his soul on the spot. For three years he had waited for the god to come collect.

Even if the kingdom owed ten million dragons he would have found a way to pay.

A debt to the devil does not get settled with coin. It gets settled with your life.

Screech!!

Drogon roared and spat a blast of fire that painted a crimson curtain several kilometers across the sky, like a shooting star made of lava.

That was only the start.

Compound V had done more than speed up their growth. The scales were reinforced. Magic beast plus that blue shit. They held more fire and their hides were so hard even a scorpion bolt bounced off.

Three dragons were enough to burn Westeros flat.

"I came to collect," Hillel said, hands behind his back, cloak snapping in the wind. "Westeros is mine."

"Impossible!"

Ned forced the word out.

"Fine. Then I take Bran’s legs back."

Hillel vanished and popped back into existence holding a boy by the scruff. Messy hair, face white with fear.

Bran Stark.

"Bran!"

Ned’s youngest son was in the man’s hand. Winterfell was a month away. The man had snatched the boy in a blink.

"Northmen. Kneel or fight."

Hillel laid a hand on Bran’s spine and gave a little shove, like he was about to snap the boy back into a cripple.

Oh.

This world did not have wheelchairs yet.

Then the kid could just lie in bed and drool.

"No! Please! Don’t!"

Ned folded.

"Your faith is shit, Ned. I fixed Bran because Catelyn loves her boy. All I wanted was the North to bend the knee."

"You lot swear by the old gods. A god stands in front of you and you still only care about what you want."

"Tell me why the North should keep existing."

Hillel turned Bran in his hand, checking the boy’s head. Traces of the Three-Eyed Raven were in there. Not too late.

"Put him down. We can talk. I’ll give you my loyalty."

Ned still held Ice. His back stayed straight.

"God! I’ll keep my word. Don’t bring down punishment!"

Robert dropped to one knee.

"Too late. Westeros needs a reshuffle. Stags and wolves teamed up to kill the Targaryens. You were never going to ride with dragons."

"Give it enough years and you’ll rebel anyway."

Hillel’s eyes were cold. He didn’t even look when he tossed Bran back to Ned.

He left the boy’s legs alone.

Oath-breakers still pay.

"Take the city."

One order.

The warships ripped through Blackwater Bay. Unsullied in steel plate moved like a wall that walked on water.

Dragons and infantry rolled over everything. Arrows hit dragon scales and did nothing.

Drogon breathed once. The outer walls ran like a river of magma.

The fight lasted less than half an hour.

Daenerys Targaryen walked into the throne room with Kuro and stopped in front of the Iron Throne.

Hillel rode a dragon across the map and had "friendly talks" with Storm’s End, Highgarden, the North.

Stannis fought the hardest. One blast of dragonfire sent him to paradise on the spot.

Renly and the Highgarden lot dropped to their knees fast and clean, so Hillel let them live.

Catelyn was a pitiful woman.

Northerners are stubborn. The leadership core had to go together or they would be a problem later.

"My God. The old nobles are gone." Daenerys turned and knelt like a zealot.

She was grown now. Radiant. Easy on the eyes.

Hillel ignored the looks she threw him.

"Kill the Lannisters, the Baratheons, and every old house that fought. Put someone who listens in the North. Wipe House Bolton while you’re at it. Those bastards have rebellion in their bones."

Hillel leaned on the Iron Throne.

The thing was a pile of swords. Sit wrong and it cuts you.

He sat anyway and mashed the barbs flat.

"This chair sucks. Melt it. Make a new one later."

He stood and patted the metal.

"Yes, My God!" Daenerys pressed her forehead to the floor.

Over the next months Westeros got The Great Purge. Old laws smashed. Nobles dragged before a round-table court to answer for their crimes. Smallfolk got land and no chains.

The old world dying woke the local gods.

Overnight the Wall came down.

White Walkers carrying the Great Other’s faith poured south, looking to turn the North into their army.

Ice and snow followed.

Winter. The Long Night.

The red priestess of R’hllor kept seeing horror in her flames. Before she could act, Hillel snatched her through the air and dropped her in the Red Keep.

"You worship a fake. I am the real one."

She stared at him, lost. "Who are you?"

"The true god."

She felt for magic. His life force was massive. Not a scrap of the Lord’s warmth.

"A demon from another world!"

Terror hit her face.

Hillel glanced at the lamps. "See? You lot never play fair. People believe in you bird-gods and you barely give them anything. Can’t even hand out eternal life. What kind of gods are you? Go home and sell roasted sweet potatoes."

His Bio-field cut the link between R’hllor and the woman.

She froze. Her god was gone. For her that was the worst thing that could happen.

"Take the necklace off."

Hillel stood with his hands behind his back.

She backed away like a scared girl.

"Forget it. I’ll deal with the gods first. Mortals. Always a pain in the ass."

He shook his head.

He owned this world now. The foreign gods’ believers would get new orders.

Talking it out was exhausting.

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