Servant Ambrosius
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King's Landing
🕑 Added 2024-03-03 16:26:00 +0000 UTCWesteros, King’s Landing
The Street of Silk, The Blue Pearl
105 AC
Saera knows many things. She knows that she is named after Princess Saera Targaryen, the madam was the one to name her, she knows that she is some lord’s bastard, her black hair and beautiful features could not make more obvious, and she knows that despite some lord shooting his seed into her mother’s cunt she cannot be anything more than a whore.
It would be a lie to say that she was not spiteful towards whatever lord sired her on her mother only to abandon her, but she understands her place. The lords will play their games and there is nothing she, some no named bastard whore, or any smallfolk can do about it. They are damned to their fates and can only lay on their backs to take it.
It is for this reason that when Ser Perkin or some other knight or lord are rough she merely screams and does nothing in protest. Who will she go to for aid? Prince Daemon? He may slay Ser Perkin or remove his cock but there will always be another, and another, and another.
It is a merciless fate that she is sure not even the Seven Hells can compare, but at least she has food in her belly and shelter over her head. A better fate than many in Flea Bottom, Saera thinks to herself as she tenderly caresses her bruised neck.
“A better fate than many in Flea Bottom, but worse than you deserve.” says a voice, startling her.
Turning around, Saera comes to face with what she briefly believes to be another Targaryen bastard before she thinks otherwise upon seeing the woman’s beautiful orange eyes.
“Who are you?” demands Saera.
“Evelynn, my lady. I believe you had the pleasure of being acquainted with my Lord earlier.” the woman replies with a smile.
“Lord Snow?” asks Saera, causing the woman to frown.
“Lord Snow.” sneers the woman as she approaches Saera, picking up Saera’s hairbrush from her bed as she passes by. “He calls himself such but he is greater than the King himself.” the woman says, causing Saera to panic as she attempts to cover Evelynn’s mouth.
“Do not say such things Lady Evelynn, lest a lord or knight hear; or worse Prince Daemon himself. He does not take well to slander against the King.” Saera warns.
“Do not worry Saera, none can hear us speak.” Evelynn replies, and for the first time Saera takes note of the shadows that cover the entirety of the room.
“What are you?” question Saera with a frown.
“You do not fear me.” notes Evelynn. “Does your Seven not warn you of foul magic and sorcery?” she asks.
“Fuck The Seven. What have they ever done for me other than preach piety and condemn sin.” Saera spits, causing a wide smile to spread on Evelynn’s face.
“Aye, fuck The Seven.” echoes Evelynn with a grin as she crushes Saera’s hairbrush in her grasp.
“Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Evelynn, right hand of Lord Aemon, a Child of the Night, and I am here to offer you power.” says Evelynn with a bow before presenting Saera with the broken pieces of her brush.
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…
It did not take long for Aemon to convince the madam to agree to his arrangement, after all he would be providing constant protection for her and her girls along with their supply of wine from henceforth. All she and her girls need to do is merely take note of all words said by her inebriated patrons. It is not much for now but eventually Aemon plans to own all brothels in King’s Landing.
As they exit the Blue Pearl, Aemon senses Evelynn enter one of the private rooms within the brothel, prompting him to briefly stop.
“Is something the matter my lord?” asks the madam.
“No, my lady. All is well.” Aemon says as he flashes her smile that has her blushing to her roots like a maid.
It is obvious to Aemon what Evelynn plans to do, no doubt her confrontation with Dairic moments before has her feeling pressured. He may not know what words were exchanged by the two of them but Aemon sensed Evelynn’s mounting frustration with the Seelie Knight and the Seelie Knight’s amusement in needling her and egging her on.
Perhaps it is due to his new eye but Aemon’s bond with his hunters has expanded in ways he does not fully know. As of now all he knows is that it allows him to sense their presence and emotions whereas before he only sensed a vague impression of their location.
“So you’re asking them to spy for you?” asks Percy, shaking Aemon from his thoughts.
“That is merely the first step.” Aemon replies. “Eventually I plan to change how they operate entirely.” he says.
“You must understand, Percy, that information can easily be the difference between victory and defeat, or war and peace. With the correct information one can peacefully convince their rivals to compromise, or incite them into making a mistake. There is a reason why the saying ‘knowledge is power’ is so often used, because knowledge provides one a certain amount of power. Of course when it comes to the subject of power it is more complicated than simply saying ‘knowledge is power’. Without the intelligence on how to make use of it that knowledge becomes useless.” Aemon explains.
Nodding in understanding, Percy digests Aemon’s and quickly comes to an understanding, bringing a smile to Aemon’s face. Percy is as intelligent as Aemon anticipated, he merely thrives best when he is given the information as he moves about. He will be made a proper leader soon.
“How would you do it?” asks Percy.
“How would I do what?” Aemon replies
“Make an information network if you were a demigod.” clarifies Percy.
“Nature spirits and mortals who are able to peer beyond the veil of the Mist. In exchange for demigod help in keeping what is left of the Wilds clean, I would request information from nature spirits. As for the mortals, well only those in a favorable relationship with their demigod children would be reached out to.” Aemon replies.
“Got it.” says Percy with a nod as they continue to make their way through the winding streets of King’s Landing, interacting with those with wares to sell, taking in all the sights, and appreciating the festive mood of the city.
Aemon has never been to King’s Landing in his first life and the one time he had been there it had been on more pressing matters. Now, with no important tasks to see to, he takes the time to appreciate the city.
Unlike the rumors he had heard, and the reality he had experienced, there is no constant stench of shit and garbage that stifles the nose, though he can see how that could quickly change should a proper sewage system not be implemented in the city.
While the rumors of the city’s stench are yet to come, the city is still poorly planned and the only truly impressive architecture within is the Red Keep. It is such that Aemon is tempted to bring Annabeth to Westeros and allow her free rein here until the city looks like the majestic capital that the Targaryens should have strived to make it be. Of course he currently has no power to do that, but once all the brothels are his he will have them torn down for them to be rebuilt in a manner taking inspiration from the dragonlords of old.
“Is this what you fought to protect from The Long Night?” asks the Other as his corporeal form appears next to Aemon.
“You have been silent for a while now.” remarks Aemon.
“Have I? Time is different for beings like you and I. Once you have lived your first century you will understand the meaning of my words.” replies the Other.
“Hmmm” replies Aemon. “Why have you shown your face before me now?” he asks.
“I wish to see what would cause a man like you to fight against your people as if you were possessed by a madness.” says the Other. “I am not impressed.”
“I did not fight for the building you fool. I fought for my people and our survival.” snarls Aemon.
“ ‘The Others’ were your people. House Stark is descended from them, you know this.” retorts the Other.
“One Other marrying into House Stark does not make us descended from them.” Aemon says.
“Of course not.” smirks the Other before retreating to the confines of Aemon’s mind.
Before Aemon can retort, he feels someone slam into his back.
“Pardon me, my lord.” says the woman as Aemon turns to face her.
As Aemon lays eyes upon her he briefly thinks that Margaery Tyrell has appeared before him, but quickly discards the thought; Margaery did not have freckles and she did not dress poorly to visit the smallfolk.
“Prince Daemon?” the young woman questions before shaking her head. “No, there is black in your silver hair.” she comments.
“Aemon Snow my lady.” Aemon says with an elegant bow and a charming smile on his face.
“U-um, Lady Desmera Redwyne.” says the young lady with a furious blush as she offers Aemon her hand.
“Enchanted.” Aemon says as he places a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, lingering long enough to be suggestive but not long enough to be scandalous.
“It seems that you have found yourself in some trouble, Lady Desmera.” Aemon says as he looks behind, finding three poorly dressed men chasing after her.
Before she can answer Aemon gently places her behind him as he draws Longclaw, the sound of Valyrian steel being drawn ringing out throughout the street.
“Move litle lordling, this ain’t none o’ yur business.” says one of the men.
“Is it bravery or foolishness that allows you to accost a noble lady in this city.” says Aemon stopping them in their tracks.
“She a lady?” asks the second man with wide eyes.
“She ain’t no lady, look at her dress.” retorts the third man, his left eye shut swollen. “And even if she is, ain’t nobody gonna know when you all dead.” the man says with a grin as he looks at the deserted alley and lunges at Aemon with his dagger.
Before anyone else can react the man’s head flies into the sky as his body collapses.
With a flick of his wrist Aemon flings the blood from his sword before sheathing it.
“Anyone else?” Aemon asks.
Rather than answer, the two men turn tail and run away.
“Thank you Ser.” says Desmera before covering her mouth and turning away from the sight.
“I am no Ser, Lady Desmera.” Aemon replies before turning to Percy. “How are you?” he asks
“I’m fine.” he says, a frown on his face as he looks at the corpse. “It was just so sudden.”
“Aye it was, but best to deal with such situations swiftly.” Aemon says.
“What are you doing in these parts without a guard?” he asks Desmera.
“I merely wanted to visit the city, but father would not let me. So I snuck out. I certainly didn’t expect to find these men bullying a septa and to attempt to kill me when I threw a rock at them.” Desmera explains.
“Of course.” sighs Aemon with a roll of his eyes. “Come, I shall escort you back to the Red Keep.” Aemon says as he begins to walk away.
“Thank you Ser.” Desmera says as she follows him.
As they exit the alley Desmera cannot help but look at Aemon’s features, a furious blush coloring her cheeks.
“Are you perhaps a dragonseed, Ser?” she asks.
“Hair of black and silver with purple eyes.” remarks Aemon with a smirk.
“Of course, how foolish of me. Princess Rhaenys is said to be the same. Though hers is said to be more black with streaks of silver.” says Desmera.
Aemon merely smirks at her in response, causing her to blush once more as they continue on their way.
Author's Note: Here’s the latest chapter. As usual, what do you guys think?
