Servant Ambrosius
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Power of the Eye
🕑 Added 2024-02-04 16:10:40 +0000 UTCYear 846
Dragonstone, AOT World
Since his transformation into a Fey Aemon has never felt the need for sleep the same way a mundane would. And even before then he had never needed sleep as much as other humans, something that made him quite effective as an outrider commander in Robb’s army, and later an effective leader of mankind during the Long Night. As such, his relationship with sleep has never been as important to him as it is to other men. Still, with that being said he has woken up from periods of sleep where he felt as if he could take over the world, but never has the feeling been this vivid.
As consciousness returns to him the first thing Aemon notices is the abundance of power flowing through him. He feels the magic in his veins and the singing of his blood and he knows that should Koios face him as he is now the Titan would despair. He feels knowledge that he should not know fill his mind and he reaches a newfound understanding of magic and its relation with his bloodline, both of his bloodlines. Still, many questions remain. His mind replays his two bouts against Koios and he is enlightened. And so Aemon opens his eyes only to be greeted by nothing but pain.
Pain is something Aemon is quite intimate with. It has been his most constant companion since his ninth nameday and has not deserted him since. Like the most devoted lover it has been with him in his greatest defeats and his greatest triumphs. And throughout all of those moments he has always seen it as a favorouble thing, for to feel pain means to be alive. This pain, however, is one which he wishes he never had the pleasure to feel.
This pain is not one that any being should ever experience. It is not a pain of the body warning the mind of an injury, nor is it one of the body warning the mind of an illness. In fact it is not a pain of the body or mind, but rather one of the spirit. It is a pain of his very existence being invaded and encroached upon, it is a pain of his very identity being changed at its very foundation, it is a pain that no being should ever experience through the entirety of their lives, it is…
Before Aemon’s mind can continue to process the pain it is overflooded with information to such an extent that he ceases to feel. His mind attempts to adapt and understand but it fails at every turn. Despite its supernatural nature it is not meant to process and understand the deepest secrets of the universe, much less the secrets of many universes based on knowledge derived from three lifetimes.
Jon Snow, Dane Whitman, and Xavier, three men from three different universes with three different life experiences as different from one another as possible. Their knowledge converges on each other, filling gaps in knowledge and thought processes, creating new fonts of knowledge from which more secrets are unraveled to fill Aemon’s mind despite it not having processed even the most basics of secrets that currently fill it. And as such a feedback loop is created.
For an unknown period of time Aemon’s mind is filled with everything and nothing, a paradox he cannot even begin to understand for he can do nothing but stare at the ceiling of his room until finally, just as his state seems to be becoming permanent all secrets and information vanish from his mind and with a loud gasp Aemon sits up.
“My Lord! My Lord!” Evelynn’s voice frantically calls out to him as his vision adjusts.
With a groan Aemon attempts to move his head towards her voice, only to find her hand tightly holding on to his head while blocking his left eye.
“Evelynn—” Aemon calls out only to stop when the taste of blood fills his mouth.
With a shaking hand he touches his nose to find it bleeding, his blood shimmering bright red with a luster far beyond what should be possible.
Through gritted teeth and a glare of his glowing violet eye, Aemon asks her “What happened.”
Rather than answer him Evelynn merely turns away from his glare, her eyes downcast and the shame evident on her face.
“Evelynn.” Aemon calls her once more.
“My Lord.” she finally replies after a few moments of silence.
“Explain.” he commands.
“This was not the intended effect, my Lord. Dairic swore…Dairic, he did this!” Evelynn exclaims before disappearing from Aemon’s chamber in a burst of super speed.
It is only due to being faster than her and understanding her character that Aemon is able to replace her hand over his left eye with his own hand.
With Evelynn gone without providing him any answers, Aemon decides to deduce what has happened himself.
With his mind set on the task it does not take him long to think of a reason for his current predicament. His left eye, an eye belonging to the Titan of Farsight, Foresight, Intellect and Knowledge suddenly works with unforeseen consequences, and Evelynn has seen fit to place blame upon Dairic, one of his Fey Knights of the Seelie Court.
It does not take much for Aemon to figure out that Evelynn struck a deal with the fey in order for him to conduct a magic spell or ritual to allow him to see from the eye of Koios. Evidently they did not account for the eye to retain much of Koios’ power nor for the power of the eye to clash with his nature as a fey and whatever his Targaryen blood makes him.
Before Aemon’s train of thought can continue, Evelynn returns with a struggling Dairic in her grasp. All pretense of civility is gone from her visage as she allows her vampiric nature to fully display itself on her face. The sclera of her eyes turn black while her pupils glow orange, black veins form under her eyes and the pale skin surrounding them, and her fangs are unsheathed as she hisses at the target of her ire.
“Release him.” commands Aemon as he stands from his bed, his eye not looking at them but rather the Dimensional Chat Group shop.
It does not take him long to find what he is looking for, an eyepatch similar to Zaraki Kenpachi’s in order to seal the power of his eye for 1000 CP. Purchasing it, Aemon wastes no time applying it to his left eye.
As soon as the eyepatch is in place, Aemon feels the magic in his veins calm while his blood cools. Yet, despite the Titan’s power being sealed by the eyepatch Aemon can still sense a small amount of it being accessible to him without the removal of the eyepatch.
Eyepatch in place, Aemon approaches Evelynn and the kneeling Dairic; her nails elongated into claws and inches from ripping into Dairic’s throat.
“Did you know?” asks Aemon as he stops before Dairic and draws upon Ghost’s power into him through their bond.
At Aemon’s question Dairic raises his head and fearlessly stares into Aemon’s eyes.
“No.” replies the fey, causing Aemon to raise an eyebrow at Dairic’s straightforwardness.
Fey are such capricious creatures that one could be forgiven to think that straightforwardness is against their nature. But Aemon knows better, he himself is a fey and he is capable of being straightforward. Still, it is always a surprise when a fey answers a question completely without needing to be coerced or forced into doing so.
“Did you suspect?” Aemon asks.
“A little.” replies Dairic with a shrug.
“And this spell, or ritual, tell me of it.” says Aemon.
That draws a chuckle from Dairic as he shakes his head “I will not. Even if you are my lord now, I will not divulge the secrets of the Seelie Court to you.” he replies.
Truth, or at least a half truth, Aemon deduces through his direwolf’s senses. That answer is further confirmed to him when he feels the Titan’s power sing in agreement through his blood.
“You will not because you cannot.” Aemon tells Dairic, wiping the amusement from his face. “You have taken an oath of secrecy that cannot be supplanted by your oath to me.” he explains, causing Dairic to silently regard him with wide eyes.
Satisfied, Aemon turns away from the fey and says “You have done me a service this day. Dismissed.”
Despite not seeing it, Aemon senses Dairic’s withdrawal from his chamber and Evelynn’s countenance returning to normal.
“What price did you pay for this favor?” Aemon asks as he turns to Evelynn, his left hand gently caressing her face.
“It is nothing worth noting. Any price is worth my Lord’s happiness.” she replies with a purr.
“Hmmm, perhaps. But next time I would like to know in advance.” Aemon says.
“Of course my Lord.” Evelynn says with a bow. “Would you like me to draw you a bath?” she asks.
“No. The power of the eye has inspired me and I would make use of it now.” Aemon answers.
“Your brother wishes to return to Westeros today my Lord.” reminds Evelynn.
“I am aware. Besides, it should not take long.” Aemon replies.
…
…
…
The Room of Accelerated Development is one of the best draws Aemon has received from the Dimensional Chat Group. While it presents itself as a simple training yard with straw dummies, tourney blades, blunted weapons and the likes, it is a room that allows those within to train and simulate various combat scenarios. Still, that is not its most important feature. Rather its ability of time dilation is its greatest feature and the one feature that Aemon looks to take complete advantage of for these few hours.
Longclaw in hand, Aemon closes his eyes and allows himself to be immersed in the vast power of Koios’ eyes while in his mind he replays both of his battles against the Titan.
During their first exchange Aemon had touched upon something that he knows not how to name. It had allowed him to make use of all his knowledge and experience of battle with a sword to systematically defeat the Titan.
During their second exchange he had also touched upon it and with it Koios had easily been defeated; granted he had the help of his trusted direwolf and raven, but even without them Koios’ defeat had all been assured it merely would have taken longer.
As Aemon immerses himself within those memories his body begins to move in accordance to the situation. He slashes, stabs, and parries as if he were truly facing the Titan. His footwork is graceful and light as he dodges, retreats and advances on his whim, irregardless of the Titan’s attempts to deceive him with feints and traps. He reduces his movements to the very basics of every form of swordsmanship he’s learned in lifetime. From the efficient and utilitarian style taught to him by Ser Rodrick, the graceful and quick style of Waterdancing, and even the minimalist style he learned from facing the Night’s King, Aemon reduces them all to their basics.
Soon Aemon reaches a point in his memory where he was forced to retreat due to the Titan transformation into his True Form, but by then the memory has long been sent to the recesses of his mind and Aemon is no longer fighting Koios. Rather he is immersed in all his knowledge and experiences pertaining to combat with a sword and soon he is facing all of his previous opponents, from the Mountain, to Jaime Lannister, to Aegon Blackfyre, to Euron Greyjoy, and even the Night’s King and the Night King.
While Aemon mentally battles all of his previous opponents, the world outside faces some changes. As the members of the Wild Hunt watch Aemon move, a chill travels down their spine at the thought of facing such a fighting style; for despite being a safe distance from him the core characteristics of it are clear to them all.
It is a cold, cunning, calculated, and precise fighting style meant to tear the opponent apart with maximum efficiency. There is no wasted movement and no emotion to his movements, only cold indifference, and as they continue to watch Aemon move a single thought appears in their mind. Like a blizzard is beautiful to watch, but to face it would mean death.
Eventually Aemon comes to a stop with a long exhale that causes ice crystals to form in the air before him.
“Dairic.” Aemon calls out as he turns to the members of the Wild Hunt, allowing them to see his eye glowing a cold blue. Yet despite him clearly channeling the cold magic of the Others none of them feel the cold.
“Yes my lord.” replies the fey as he steps forward.
“Come. Face me. I mean to put my creation to the test.” Aemon says.
“Of course.” says Dairic as he draws his sword and faces Aemon.
Without warning the fey slashes towards Aemon, only for him to effortlessly step around Dairic as if he were the wind.
“It would be in your best interest to approach this as you would a battle. Do not hold back.” Aemon commands.
With a nod Dairic lunges at him, moving as fast as he can. With a grin on his face Aemon meets his charge, seemingly disappearing from their sight before reappearing within Dairic’s guard with Longclaws’ tip drawing a small incision on the fey’s throat that draws blood.
With a self satisfied nod Aemon sheaths his sword and leaves the R.A.D.
The members of the Wild Hunt barely take note of his exit for they are occupied by Dairic’s reaction.
“Cold.” the fey mutters to himself as he returns to the others with a shiver.
“You’re cold?” Reina asks him with a raised eyebrow, for she and the others feel nothing of the sort.
“You don’t feel it?” Dairic replies, his breath misting over while ice crystals form on his skin.
“It’s the cut.” Evelynn says she points to the small incision on Dairic’s throat. From it they can feel the cold magic of the Others seeping out.
“Using his sword he injected the magic into you.” Evelynn explains. “A weak enemy would quickly freeze to death, and while a more powerful one may remain unaffected by a single cut, how many of such cuts could they survive before internally freezing to death.” she says with a grin.
“Like a blizzard.” Reina whispers, and as one all members of the Wild Hunt shiver as if they were truly facing a blizzard, all save one.
With a dreamy sigh, Evelynn turns into a raven and flies towards Aemon.
Author's Note: Here’s the latest chapter. As usual, what do you guys think?
