Servant Ambrosius
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Ascension
🕑 Added 2024-05-13 02:06:53 +0000 UTCPJO World
The Realm of Winter
The pain caused by the Winter Crown as it rests upon his brow is one Aemon has never experienced before. Not even as a slave or when he held the sky has he ever experienced such torment, for it is not merely pain of the body but a metaphysical pain that reaches the very depths of his spirit.
For wrought iron that has yet to be heated and shaped is toxic to all faeries. The knowledge of why and how has long been lost and not even Queen Mab knew for sure why.
With the completion of the new Winter Crown Aemon feels as if he has gained complete control of the Winter Realm as the crown begins to serve its purpose immediately; to serve as a focus for his power over the Winter Realm until such a time when achieves total mastery without the need for the crown.
As for the crown taking the resemblance of the crown described in the tales told of the Stark kings of old, The Winter Kings, Aemon is to blame for such; for it was his choice to blend the crown of the Stark kings of old. It will serve as a reminder of both of his heritage. In design it shall remind him that he hails from a long line of Winter Kings, mundane they may have been but their dynasty has outlasted many a supernatural kingdom. In material the crown shall remind him of his heritage as a Targaryen, for as the iron spikes burn his mind, body, and spirit, it shall remind him that “a king should never rest easy”; for it is with that mindset that the Conqueror forged the Iron Throne.
Looking over the faeries that kneel before him Aemon cannot stop the slight disappointment that he feels within. Due to Queen Mab’s selfishness, and her children’s unchecked arrogance and ambition, the once mighty Unseelie Court has been reduced to a measly nine thousand fey, warriors sworn to the Winter Court specifically all.
Few, if any, of the Court survived the War of the Shattering and those who have are not ones that Aemon would entrust with overseeing the life of a child much less the vast territories of the Unseelie Fae.
With the majority of noble houses choosing to support a child of Queen Mab in their quest for the Unseelie Throne, only those directly sworn to the Winter Crown escaped the fires of war for they answer to the Winter Crown alone and none of Queen Mab’s children had been able to gain her approval to become Heir.
Thought there is a silver lining to Aemon’s situation since those who survived and kneel before him are loyal to the bearer of the Winter Crown before all while also being the greatest warriors and soldiers in the entirety of the Unseelie Court, even during its golden age under Queen Mab; for the Queen would never accept the possibility of being dethroned due to the her personal forces being weaker than the nobles she ruled over.
The greatest of such personal forces are none other than the members of the Autumn Court, the greatest court behind the Winter Court and direct vassals of the Winter Court. They are to the Winter Court what House Bolton could have been to the Starks had they been undyingly loyal.
So unquestioned is their loyalty that Queen Mab saw fit to ordain their ruler a Prince, placing him on equal footing as her own children.
They are the ones in command of the Castle Guard along with two additional forces led by Malenia herself, the Knights of Decay and the Riders Rhiannon.
“You have done well to remain uninvolved in the War of the Shattering.” says Aemon as he addresses the fae before him. “Never before has the Unseelie Court been brought so low, and at the hands of its members to boot. The mad taint of these ambitious fools has done irreparable damage to the Court. But, despair not; for the court has survived and purged itself of the cancer. From henceforth a new age is upon us, so stand and return to your posts for order must be established and the borders must be secured. I will call upon you with new orders soon enough.” commands Aemon.
As one, the faeries stand and bow before turning and leaving the courtroom in a uniform march, leaving Miquella and Malenia along with Aemon within.
“You have done well, Miquella.” says Aemon once the doors to the throne room close.
“The Unseelie Court would not be here were it not for your sacrifice.” he adds. “Such sacrifice should be rewarded. Tell me your wish and if it is within my power I will grant.”
For a moment Miquella does not respond, merely regarding Aemon with his curious golden eyes.
“I am the Winter King’s ever loyal servant, and as such only wish to serve.” replies Miquella, his voice as soft as windchimes in a breeze.
Miquella’s responses causes Aemon to internally frown, for this sort of devotion could very easily cause the Autumn Court’s downfall. Yet to press the issue would be disrespectful to Miquella and a sign of Aemon disregarding the Golden Prince’s loyalty and wishes.
Turning his eyes to Malenia, Aemon notices her barely restraining herself from objecting, causing him to smile.
“Very well.” Aemon says before turning his attention to Malenia. If Miquella cannot be selfish for himself or his Court then Aemon will make use of Malenia to reward them.
“Malenia, you have guarded the Winter Throne faithfully and as such are worthy of a reward.” says Aemon before tapping into the Wild Magic of the Winter Realm.
“From henceforth you shall be Princess Malenia and serve as my Winter Knight, command of all forces of the Winter and Unseelie Court falls to you in my absence and to question your Authority is to question mine own; so says I, The Winter King.” declares Aemon through the Wild Magic as his voice resonates throughout the Winter Realm for all to hear.
Next to Miqualla’s throne, the Autumn Throne, a second throne erects itself. Made of gleaming ice crystals and depicting Malenia’s battle against Aemon on its surfaces, the throne is a testament to Malenia’s position as second to none bar the Winter King himself.
Now all that is left is for the surviving Houses to come swear fealty to their new king.
…
…
…
Westeros, King’s Landing
105 AC
Melisandre’s arrival in Westeros is one lacking in fanfare, for she disguises herself as an unassuming man with a glamor.
As she steps onto the docks of King’s Landing, the capital of the last scions of Old Valyria, she cannot help the disappointment she feels upon laying eyes on it. The Valyrian Freehold may have been a dark civilisation full of evils but one could never deny the beauty in their works of art and architecture; none of which can be seen in King’s Landing which has adopted the style of the Andals.
For a brief moment Melisandre doubts her interpretation of the visions before quickly rallying. She did not witness Westeros as it is now in her visions, but rather as it will be through guidance of the prophesied hero.
Continuing on her way, Melisandre effortlessly finds her way through King’s Landing narrow and winding pathways until finally coming across her destination, a four story white building in an architectural design that clearly draws inspiration from the Valyrian Freehold without making use of gargoyles. Still, the building easily stands apart from all other establishments of its kind due to its architecture exuding luxury and elegance.
Standing guard outside, one on each side of the door, are a pair of knights in gleaming silver plate armor covering their blue uniform. In their hand opposite to one another they hold a silver spear as tall as they are.
Seeing the guards, Melisandre is further assured of her destination and no longer hesitates to step inside, missing the guards narrowing their eyes as they easily see past her glamor while she herself has been unable to see the fey beneath their own glamors.
As she enters the building, Melisandre is met with a flowery courtyard filled with the most beautiful of flowers, and tapestries depicting the most sexual of acts Melisandre has ever seen. At the center of it all is an apple tree full of said fruit ripe for picking. The entire view is made that much more beautiful by the shimmering sunlight that streams in through the colored glass ceiling.
“Welcome to The Blue Pearl, which of our services interests you this day?” asks a beautiful young woman wearing a blue dress of silk and Myrish lace that exposes her left breast.
Before Melisandre can answer, Saera appears behind the young woman.
“That will not be necessary, this guest is mine own.” says Saera.
With a slight bow the young woman retreats.
With her change into a vampire complete, Saera has easily become one of the most beautiful women in Westeros, with her features gaining a supernatural beauty to them while she herself now possesses a more graceful disposition that puts most noble women to shame. If before her features made her noble bastardy obvious, now it would not be surprising for those in the know to think her the child of a Great House or some Essosi noble.
“It is bold of you to enter my Lord’s domain so brazenly.” says Saera with narrowed eyes.
With a raised eyebrow being the only indicator to her shock, Melisandre allows her glamor to drop.
“Follower of the Red God, I must warn you that all that awaits you here should your intentions be impure is death at best.” warns Saera.
“Then it is good that I come with only the purest of intentions, to offer myself and my services to the prophesied hero.” replies Melisandre.
Before Saera can answer, Evelynn’s voice comes from above, audible to Saera and the fey alone.
“Bring her to the office.” commands Evelynn.
“Follow me.” says Saera as she makes her way to the edge of the building where a winding staircase can be found.
As they ascend many questions swirl within Melisandre’s mind, yet she remains silent for she has been patient for centuries and a few more minutes of waiting mean nothing to her.
When they reach the highest floor Melisandre finds herself standing on a circular balcony overlooking all below her, allowing her a perfect view of the inner courtyard and the outside of every room.
As they stop before the only door on this floor, the doors open without prompting; allowing them entry and immediately closing once they enter.
Inside is nothing like she expected. Though she does not know what the room of the prophesied hero should look like, Melisandre certainly did not expect a solar filled with various maps of the world, including detailed maps of every civilisation that is currently involved in global affairs, or has the power to involve themselves in global affairs.
Most interesting among these maps is one detailing what seems to be a war on the Stepstones, and yet the Stepstones are currently not at war.
Within the room are also paintings of what she assumes are the current members of the royal family, though not all members possess the silver hair and purple eyes of the dragonlords despite possessing their beauty.
The most interesting of those paintings is one depicting a man possessing silver and black hair with an eyepatch over his left eye that barely covers a scar beneath.
“Welcome, Melisandre of Asshai.” greets a voice from behind her, shocking Melisandre.
Never has she been surprised or startled since she began her service to R’hllor. More importantly however is the fact that the woman knows her yet Melisandre herself knows her not.
“Who are you, and how do you know me?” questions Melisandre with a frown.
“Our Lord Commander has been expecting you for some time now.” replies the woman.
“Your Lord Commander?” asks Melisandre.
“Your prophesied hero, the one destined to bring the dawn.” Evelynn says. “Unfortunately matters of great import demand his presence. Come, sit and do not be afraid to ask your questions while we wait his return.”
That night, Aemon’s Wild Hunt welcomes its third vampire.
Author’s Note: Here’s the latest chapter. As usual, tell me what you guys think.
