Servant Ambrosius
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Ladies of the Night
🕑 Added 2024-02-24 23:47:20 +0000 UTCWesteros, King’s Landing
The Red Keep, Barrack of the City Watch
105 AC
Aemon did not expect that his opportunity to make a statement would come this soon upon his arrival in Westeros, nor did he expect it to present itself in the form of Criston Cole, the Kingmaker and perhaps the most vilified member of the Kingsguard in history. Regardless of whether the author of the accounts pertaining to the Dance of Dragons supported Rhaenyra or not, all agreed on this point; Criston Cole had no right to disobey King Viserys’ wishes in order to crown Aegon.
Personally Aemon has no thoughts pertaining to the Kingmaker other than that his manner of death was well deserved. Denied the honor of duel and the chance at capture, Cole was shot down like a common brigand by the army loyal to Rhaenyra.
“I'll have no songs about how brave you died, Kingmaker. There's tens o' thousands dead on your account.” Pate of Longleaf said to the Kingmaker. A simple line, but one that would cement Pate into the annals of history.
“Why did you do that?” asks Percy, shaking Aemon from his thoughts.
The demigod had been so quiet that Aemon had momentarily forgotten that he had been there.
Turning towards the demigods, Aemon finds him frowning up at him.
“You don’t approve.” Aemon comments.
“That felt like bullying. I don’t like bullies.” Percy says, causing Aemon to chuckle.
“That’s good. I would be disappointed if you merely went along with whatever I did.” Aemon says as he ruffles Percy’s hair.
“Dude.” whines Percy as he swats Aemon’s hand away.
“The first lesson I want to impart to you is simple, first impressions and reputation matter. Many a time others will judge you based on their first impression of you as opposed to how you truly are.” Aemon explains.
“And that’s what you were doing? Setting your first impression by bullying him?” Percy asks, the frown still on his face.
“Aye. Westeros is a cutthroat and martial society, especially so for bastards, which is what my brothers and sisters are as far as Westerosi law is concerned. The only worth a bastard possesses is determined by their skill at arms. Of course if the bastard’s family is generous they will not care for such matters.” Aemon continues.
“So you had to bully him to get them to at least respect you?” replies Percy.
“Aye, especially since Criston Cole is currently lauded as the best warrior in Westeros.” Aemon adds as a pair of Gold Cloaks pick up Criston Cole and begin to carry him to the maester.
“I don’t like it.” says Percy.
“Understandable, however it is my current reality. Just as it is your current reality that you are the prophecy child.” Aemon tells him as the two make their way to the others.
“How was it?” asks Jaehaerys, causing Aemon to raise an eyebrow questioningly. “How good of a warrior is he truly?” he elaborates.
“He’s no Sword of the Morning, but he would not be out of place in Aerys’ Seven.” Aemon says.
“High praise.” Aegon says.
“Is it truly? By the time of the Long Night you and I were far better warriors than any of Aerys’, Dayne included and we had not reached twenty and five yet.” Jaehaerys says.
“Hmmm.” hums Aegon, clearly wishing to say something but choosing not to. “Will you join me to the Street of Steel?” he says instead.
“What for?” asks Jaehaerys.
“I plan to enter the tourney and as such have ordered a set of armor made. It should be ready now.” explains Aegon.
“Why ever would you do that when Aemon could make you one?” questions Rhaenys with a frown.
“His plate was quite full with” says Aegon as he gestures to Aemon’s eyepatched eye. “Besides, armor made by him is likely to make the wearer invincible. No tourney is that serious.” he adds, causing the group to nod in agreement.
“Well, as much as I would love to, I have business in the Street of Silk.” Aemon says as he turns to leave, Percy trailing not far behind him.
“You plan to take the child with you?” asks Daenerys, stopping Aemon in his tracks.
“How old are you?” he asks the demigod.
“Fourteen, why?” replies Percy.
“Old enough.” Aemon says as he continues on his way while ignoring the sound of disagreement coming from Daenerys.
“Wait, old enough for what?” asks Percy as he nervously reaches for the pockets in his pants.
“Old enough to witness the darker aspects of society.” Aemon says. “While I do not believe that you will ever have to deal with these elements in your world, it would still do you well to know of and see this part of society even if only to broaden your view of the world.”
“Are you talking about criminal gangs and stuff like that?” asks Percy.
“Aye, though today we shall be visiting the Street of Silk, where the prostitutes of King’s Landing reside. Of course as with all things in Westerosi society they are called by a more unflattering term, whores.” Aemon says, causing Percy to blush.
“Dude, I don’t think I’m old enough for that.” Percy argues.
“We will not be participating.” Aemon replies with a roll of his eyes. “I merely have a business proposition for one of them specifically.”
“If you’re not going to…” begins Percy with a blush. “If you’re not, then what’s the business proposal?” he asks
“Lesson number two, the dregs of society more often than not know many a secret that the more distinguished people would wish remain secret.” Aemon explains.
“So what? You’re going to ask her for secrets about the nobles in exchange for protection or something? Sounds like a protection racket, are you creating the mob in Westeros or something?” Percy jokes, causing Aemon to stop and look at him with a raised eyebrow.
“You are far more informed on such matters than I expected.” Aemon notes before continuing to walk.
“Yea, crazy right? It’s almost like I went to high school or something?” Percy says while rolling his eyes, earning him an amused smile from Aemon.
“Regardless, as close as your conjecture is, it's not completely correct.” Aemon says as they stop before a building with a sign that reads “The Blue Pearl”
Entering the building they are meant with a middle aged woman who would clearly have been considered beautiful in her youth, yet age and life as a smallfolk had clearly marred it.
“Welcome to the Blue Pearl my lord, how may I help you?” she asks while studying the two, her eyes clearly liking what she sees as they linger on Aemon’s face and his long hair.
Rather than answer her, Aemon’s attention turns towards a room in the far back where the muffled sound of a woman screaming can be heard.
“Of course any preferences that you have can be accommodated, Lord…” she says with a flinch as if ignoring the sound would make it stop.
“Snow.” Aemon replies.
“Pardon me?” says the woman with a tilt of her head.
“You asked for my name. You may call me Lord Snow.” Aemon says before his attention returns to the back room where the screaming suddenly stops.
Walking around the woman, Aemon makes his way towards the room.
“My lord, you cannot go in there.” says the madam as she scrambles after Aemon.
“Lesson number three, Perseus.” Aemon says, stopping before the door and turning to a frowning Percy. “No organization, regardless of leadership, is free of corruption.” Aemon explains as he kicks the door open, revealing a naked young woman on her back with tears in her eyes being roughly choked by a man that Aemon can only describe as a flea.
“Who the fuck dares?” demands the man mid-thrust.
“I beg your forgiveness Ser Perkin, the bastard just barged in.” says the madam.
Before the knight can reply Aemon enters the room and pulls him from the woman, dangling him in the air by his throat with his right hand.
“She calls you Ser, yet all I see before me is a flea.” says Aemon as the knight struggles to dislodge his hands from his throat.
“It’s not fun when the roles are reversed, is it?” he says as he marginally relaxes his grip and finally allowing the knight to finally speak.
“I have friends in the City Watch.” rasps Ser Perkin.
“Oh?” questions Aemon, interest laced in his voice. “Do you believe that threatening me with the Gold Cloaks would stay in my hand?” Aemon as his left hand unsheathes his dirk and a manic grin spreads across his face.
“Wait!Wait!” exclaims Ser Perkin. “I-I-I’ll leave and never come back. I swear it on The Seven.”
“The Seven.” scoffs Aemon. “The Seven have nothing to do with me, swear it on me.” Aemon says.
“I-I swear it on you to never return.” says Ser Perkin.
“Good, but know that if you ever return you’ll be turned into a eunuch.” Aemon warns before tossing the man out of the room.
In his panic the man scrambles from the floor and races out of the building, his clothes long forgotten.
From inside the building the group hears the laughter of the people outside as Ser Perkin runs away.
“Thank you, but you should not have done that. Ser Perkin may be weak but he has friends in high places.” the madam says while she looks over the bruised whore.
“Worry not, the Gold Cloaks will do nothing. Prince Daemon will not care for the whinings of a flea.” Aemon says as he sheathes his dirk.
“Prince Daemon protects us, it is not him I worry for. Like you told your squire, no organization is free of corruption.” replies the madam.
“I see. So it is one of his captains which grants the flea such courage.” Aemon remarks.
“Yes. Ser Luthor Largent to be exact. A seven feet tall monster of a man who once slew a horse with a single punch.” explains the madam, causing Aemon to chuckle.
“Do you find our plight amusing?” she asks with a frown.
“Nay, merely that I seem destined to slay men larger than me in the defense of women. Ser Luthor shall make the fifth ‘monster of a man’ which I slay.” Aemon explains with a shrug as the caw of a raven is heard overhead.
“Seeing you I would not think so. You are too pretty and handsome for one to think you a killer when they lay eyes on you. Though the patch over the eye does give a certain dangerous charm to it. Are you perhaps Prince Daemon’s bastard?” she asks.
“A Targaryen bastard I may be, but not Prince Daemon’s.” Aemon says.
“Well, regardless, for your aid our services are free to you this day.” the madam says with a wink.
“Unfortunately, I did not come here for pleasure. Rather I have a business proposition for you.” Aemon says.
“After then.” the madam insists.
“When the child is not with me.” Aemon says as he gestures towards Percy who watches on with a face as red as an apple.
“Of course, Lord Snow.” says the madam as she leads Aemon and Percy into her solar.
…
…
…
Evelynn watches over the fool her Lord has aptly named flea while gliding through the air, her black feathers gently ruffling through the wind.
While her Lord did not castrate the fool before Perseus and the prostitutes his intent was made clear to her, the women of The Blue Pearl are not to be touched by the flea and his corrupt Gold Cloak friends.
As such it is with barely hidden glee that Evelynn dives at full speed towards the flea’s head as he enters into a deserted alleyway. At her current speed the impact will smash his head to a pulp and none would recognise his corpse.
Before she can hit him however Dairics figure appears at the fool’s back, blocking her path.
With a snarl she watches the flea leave the alley through the other entrance before shifting back.
“Dairic.” Evelynn says, her contempt for him not hidden at all.
“The Lord made a deal with him.” says the fey, a rasp in his melodious voice from his healed injury.
“So what?” demands Evelynn.
“So he lives. A deal made with a fey is one with consequences and it would serve our lord’s reputation well should the people of this world understand that.” he explains.
Hearing his words Evelynn cannot help but narrow her eyes at him.
“Why do you care? You and the other fey have never been proactive when it came to serving the Lord.” Evelynn says.
“I have seen the error of my ways.” Dairic says only for Evelynn to grab him by the throat and pull him towards her.
“You Seelie Fey are a petty and vengeful people, I do not believe for one second that you have officially submitted yourself to the Lord, not after this.” Evelynn says as she traces the scar on Dairic’s throat with her nails.
“We fey cannot lie, you know this.” replies Dairic.
“Perhaps not, but you can omit information. Now, what did you omit? Did you see the error of your ways in not faithfully serving our Lord, or did you see the error of your ways in not attempting to slay and usurp him?” snarls Evelynn.
“You see threats where there are none.” says Dairic as he pushes Evelynn off him.
“Perhaps, or perhaps you simply cannot fool me.” Evelynn says before turning into a raven and flying off.
As her conversion with the fey plays over in her mind a sense of unease fills Evelynn for if the fey were to decide to rebel her Lord would be outnumbered. It seems that she can no longer delay siring vampires.
It doesn’t matter, she found the perfect people to turn in order to serve her Lord. What better people than King’s Landing ladies of the night.
Author's Note: Here’s the latest chapter. As usual, what do you guys think?
Comments
Servant Ambrosius
Fixed it. Thanks
KingSpy25i .
"whines Aemon as he swats Aemon’s hand away." You mean Percy?
