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Dragon Communion
🕑 Added 2024-06-03 04:23:05 +0000 UTCPJO World
The Winter Realm, The White Forest
The White Forest, a forest aptly named for its massive white trees and leaves, a forest devoid of all colors save white, a vast forest spanning much of the Winter Court’s territory and at least half of House Cumhail’s territory.
Normally the border of House Cumhail’s lands within The White Forest would be tightly guarded for fear of invasion from the other houses and especially The Winter Court, however, ever since Aemon’s ascension to the throne the security has become somewhat lax due to House Cumhail commanding much of their knights to converge on to The White Fort, the ancestral seat of House Cumhail. This command will prove to be the beginning of House Cumhail’s downfall.
Leading his Wraith Riders through the forest, Eredin makes short work of all House Cumhail’s knights, slaughtering them to a man and leaving none alive before hanging their butchered corpses upon the massive trees for any passersby to see.
Licking the blood of a knight captain from his blade, Eredin cannot help the thrill of ecstasy that travels down his spine. This is what he lives, he and his Wraith Riders, warriors with one purpose and one purpose only; to spill the blood of their liege’s enemies and hang their corpses as a warning for all to see.
Ever since a youngling Eredin understood he would never have the aptitude for anything beyond military matters, and with a near unquenchable thirst for blood he would be an even poorer leader in times of peace. As such he has always looked for a liege to align himself to.
His first liege had been the first head of House Cumhail, but he, perhaps setting the example for his descendants, had turned out to be a traitor willing to ally himself with the Seelie Court. Only his son’s betrayal of him had stayed Queen Mab from extinguishing his line.
Still, House Cumhail had lost much favor with the Winter Court and only through their current leader’s cunning and martial prowess did House Cumhial claw itself back to the Winter Court’s inner circle. Unfortunately the son is clearly no better than the father for he currently leads a rebellion against his liege.
Eredin’s second liege had been Queen Mab herself. Cunning, powerful, ambitious, and courageous, she had almost been the pinnacle of the Unseelie Court’s values. Unfortunately she was no warrior, nor no military commander, and Eredin had always thought it a shame for she would never make use of him and his Wraith Riders properly.
Now Eredin finds himself serving his third liege and he cannot help the excitement that blossoms from within him, for he proved himself a worthy warrior by defeating Malenia and also proved himself worthy of Kingship by being accepted by the Winter Throne.
What excites Eredin the most however is his crown of cold iron. Any fey who can calmly wear a crown of cold iron and still maintain such grace, majesty, and radiate power is one worthy of allegiance.
“Commander!” calls out one of Eredin’s Wraith Riders, bringing him out of his thoughts. “We found one.” he says as he drags a knight of House Cumhail to Eredin.
Despite being quite dirty and worn, the quality and worth of the knight’s armor still shines through. The armor is all white unlike the other armors which possess colorful accents of some kind, denoting the knight as a White Commander, one of the highest ranks in the hierarchy of House Cumhail’s knights.
“Well, well, well.” says Eredin as a grin splits across his face as he notices the knight’s face. “This is no mere White Commander boys. This is The White Commander, Eryndor himself.”
“Eredin.” spits Eryndor. “I see that the false king has let you off your leash, all the more proving his incompetence.”
“Hahaha, incompetence.?” laughs Eredin. “Is that what you call making use of an asset? Incompetence?”
“There is a reason why our liege forsook you. You are nothing but a mad dog more likely to bite his owner’s hand than guard his interests.” replies Eryndor.
“Ah, but you see that is where he was mistaken. I am not a dog one uses to guard his household or his fort, I am a beast that one unleashes to ravage his enemies, a hammer to crush the opposition; granted a precise hammer, but a hammer all the same. The fact that your liege could not see that is proof that he is lesser than.” retorts Eredin with a cackle.
“Now be a good prisoner and squirm for me as a torture your liege’s plans out of you.” says Eredin, and for hours Eryndor’s screams echo throughout The White Forest before he eventually succumbs to his injuries. Still, despite the torture Eryndor did not relinquish a single piece of information.
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PJO World
The Winter Realm, The Winter Fort
The Winter Fort, like Winterfell, houses many secrets known only to the ruling family of said forts. While Winterfell has its secret entrances, passageways, and secret vault within its crypt, The Winter Fort possesses its Garden of Remembrance, a vault accessible only to the currently ruler of The Winter Court which houses many of the court’s trophies such as Durandal, Arondight, and even Excalibur.
The second secret chamber can be found in the bowels of The Winter Fort, The Dragon Necropolis. A massive chamber at least twice as big as The Winter Fort which houses the remains of many a dragon regardless of their allegiances in life. The chamber itself is worth more than any gold, silver, or any other form of currency for the value of a dragon’s remains cannot be measured with such paltry methods.
However, that is not why Aemon has brought Caraxes down here with him.
Deeper than The Dragon Necropolis and hidden from the knowledge of all save, Queen Mab, is Albion’s resting chamber; a deceptive name considering the chamber’s true purpose. Unlike what its name suggests, the chamber is where Albion wishes to die, preferably in battle against another dragon who would later feast on his heart thereby triggering the ritual of Dragon Communion.
For anyone not a dragon to participate in Dragon Communion is an act of dark and evil magic, however for dragons it is how the elderly and soon to be departed pass on their power and wisdom to the young. It is a sacred rite in which a dying dragon allows his legacy to live on in a chosen and proven heir.
According to Queen Mab’s estimate Albion should still live at this time, weak and decrepit but alive still.
Should Caraxes successfully participate and survive in the ritual then his power would easily reach The Black Dread’s at his prime without the increase in size and bulk.
“This is as far as I can take you.” Aemon tells Caraxes as he stops before the mouth of a massive cavern.
Although Aemon wishes he could accompany Caraxes, he does not for this trial is Caraxes’ and his alone. Dragon Communion is a sacred ritual between an elderly dragon and a young one. To interfere in it, even to aid Caraxes, may result in disastrous effects. Besides, at some point Caraxes may have to face more powerful dragons than him, it would be best if he gains experience here where the danger is minimal.
Carefully regarding Aemon with narrowed eyes, Caraxes smells the air before him and cannot help but hiss at the smell of a more powerful dragon.
“Well? Will you enter or cower out here?” Aemon asks, receiving a threatening screech in response before Caraxes snarls and slithers his way into Albion’s cavern.
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Albion, to the mundane it simply is the ancient name of the Kingdom of Britain. To the supernatural however it means calamity for it is the name of The White Dragon, one of the greatest dragons to ever grace Britain and the northern kingdoms with its presence.
Foolishly many humans claimed him to be Britain’s guardian due to being seen frequently there, but the dragon has never once cared for that pitiful human kingdom. Not when they were mere tribes, not when they were a cluster of smaller kingdoms, and not even when King Arthur had unified them into the Kingdom of Camelot. He is a dragon and no human, mundane or otherwise, should ever presume to know or predict his actions and motives.
That incubus may have been able to convince to aid Arthur against their northern enemies, but that was only because Ddraig had allied himself with them, why the Red Dragon had done such a thing when his friend Queen Titania had been in favor of Camelot Albion knows not nor did he ever care to find out. All he knows is that it had been entertaining watching that halfling unseelie sister of Arthur weave her deception to bring about Camelot’s destruction.
Ah the days when humanity’s mind was not so fragile to require The Veil to shield themselves from the supernatural. They were a hardy species then, resilient, and full of potential that some managed to slay even dragons. Weak as a whole but full of potential to become greater.
Unfortunately they chose the path of technological advancement and abandoned the greater mysteries, stunting their growth.
Regardless of their attempt, this is a world of magic and always will be. The time for humanity to distance themselves from the higher mysteries in pursuit of technology has long since passed, making their decision to do so now a foolish one. It is akin to a warrior who had dedicated himself to the sword for his entire lifetime to choose a flail in their twilight years.
Still, these are matters that no longer concern Albion and now, as his injuries from his final battle with Ddraig continues to deteriorate his health, all Albion wishes is for a young dragon to enter his cavern so that he may pass on his wisdom upon them.
Once upon a time it would be wishful thinking for The Winter Realm had begun to deteriorate alongside his friend’s fading, but in recent times Albion has felt the realm’s recovery.
A worthy successor had been found and as such there may still be hope, Though if he is being honest with himself Albion knows the chances are still slim to none, for dragons are near extinct.
Before Albion can continue to wallow he senses the new Winter King enter The Dragon Necropolis alongside a very young dragon. Though it is a type of dragon Albion has never felt before, a dragon is a dragon and he can never mistake one for anything else.
Stretching his senses out Albion “sees” the young king guide the dragon towards his lair, and he is struck by how young they are. The new king has not even seen fifty winters yet, he is a youngling still and yet here is the new king of the Unseelie Court.
The dragon is no better for he is a hatchling who has not even seen ten winters.
Focusing his senses on the two, Albion cannot help but be more intrigued, for somehow, someway, the new king is descended from dragons, granted the power in his blood is diluted for it wars with his fey heritage; but with the correct catalyst he could become a dragon in humanoid form.
More intriguing however is his bond with the hatchling, a bond in which they share their senses, emotions, and power. It is an intimate bond which one would only engage if they hold the utmost trust in the other. The more powerful one becomes, the more the other shall grow, and should one be hurt then that pain shall be felt intimately by the other.
It is not unheard of for dragons to bond with other species, yet never has he ever seen such a bond between a dragon and his bonded. Not even his connection with Mab had been that intimate.
With these two before him Albion feels hope for the future, and as such it is with much ease that decides that this hatchling before him shall be his partner in the ritual of Dragon Communion.
Author’s Note: Sorry for the lateness, but here’s the latest chapter. As usual, tell me what you guys think.
