Servant Ambrosius
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In the Shadows
🕑 Added 2024-09-09 10:22:23 +0000 UTCPJO World
The Winter Realm, The Winter Fort
The rally in the throne room had empowered and emboldened Aemon’s loyalist before their spirits were quickly dampened with the subsequent news of his plans; the Winter Fort is to be abandoned and Dragonstone in the world of Paradis shall serve as their home while also serving as where the Unseelie Court shall be convened from henceforth. Understandably many of his commanders and knights were upset at the news while the more politically astute of his subjects deduced the reason why quickly enough.
By moving the Court out of the Winter Realm and into a land unknown by the entire court Aemon removes any geographical advantage any of his possibly rebellious lords may ever obtain should they think to attack his fort while still retaining his own geographical advantage should he ever choose to attack them. Second it essentially turns whoever attends the court in the future into a hostage; after all should any of his lords even think of rebelling he could remove their representative’s heads from their shoulders before their armies are ever ready to attack. And third, it gives Aemon easy access to a standing army should he ever need to in Westeros. None would expect that the bastard children of Saera Targaryen would possess an elite army of 8000 ready to march at any given moment.
As such, it did not take much to turn those in disagreement into supporters of the idea. While they would have obeyed his command regardless it is best that they do so enthusiastically, and what better way to convince Unseelie Fey of an idea than to spin it as a cunning ploy.
Which is how he finds himself here. The sound of his boots on the ground softly echoes through the dungeon hall as Aemon makes his way towards his most valued prisoner. Behind him, Reina, in her wolf form, and Ghost’s own footfalls follow silently by his side while Huginn perches himself on his shoulder. A step behind his direwolf and his werewolf commander are four members of the Royal Guard, while six members of the Black Knives make themselves at home in his shadow.
As Aemon stops before the bars of Rellana’s cell he takes a moment to observe the knight. Despite her lustrous black hair that shines against her pale skin and her blue eyes that seem to resemble two blue moons, Rellana cannot be said to be the most beautiful by fey standards. Of course any mortal woman and many a supernatural woman would pale in comparison to her, however by the standard of the fey she would merely be labeled as above average. However, there is an elegance and gracefulness to her that is mesmerizing to behold, coupled with the sense of heroic air she gives off and it would not be wrong to name as charismatic.
Even with her disheveled appearance due to her captivity Aemon cannot help but admire her.
“Your Majesty.” greets Rellana with a perfect knightley bow.
“Lady Rellana.” replies Aemon, his hands folded at his back while his single shoulder cape gently sways behind him despite the lack of wind. A wind spirit had taken a liking to him sometime while he was unconscious and has thus far refused to leave, granted Aemon did not attempt to have him leave at all.
Seeing the color of his attire Rellana’s eyes narrow into a glare, still she remains silent, awaiting for what Aemon has to say.
“You seem awfully accepting of my station now.” comments Aemon.
“Within the Court, victory is King.” replies Rellana, causing Aemon to smirk.
“Indeed, only the victor is right in the court.” Aemon says as he continues to observe Rellana. Tilting his head to the side, he regards her with an impassive stare, his emotions unreadable upon his Stark face of ice “As Messmer’s intended and general, I should have you beheaded.” he says.
Despite his words Rellana does not react and merely continues to look at him before saying, “As King of the Unseelie Court it is your due.” she nods.
“Hmmm.” hums Aemon with a nod before grabbing the cell door with his left hand and ripping the door from its hinges.
Stepping into the cell, he draws Longclaw, not even wincing when a burning pain shoots through his hand as he grasps the handle.
“Any last words?” he asks, the tip of his sword lightly touching her throat. Had it been any other sword the small contact would not have done anything, however considering the Valyrian Steel nature of Longclaw a small incision is made at the point of contact drawing blood.
“I served my Lord faithfully.” says Rellana as she stares Aemon in the eyes, drawing a smirk from him.
Perhaps it is the nerd within him displaying himself, or mayhaps Aemon himself has also always been attracted to dangerous women but Aemon thinks that he could kiss right then and there. The armor, the elegance, the gracefulness, the unyielding death despite being consigned to death, truly in this moment she appears more beautiful than any other woman.
“Lady Rellana, the Twin Moon Knight, and former Sword of Messmer, your King calls you to serve!” commands Aemon, his voice slightly warped as if he were channeling his Stark ancestors.
With nary an hesitation, Rellana kneels before Aemon, “Rellana answers the call.” she replies.
“Heed this King’s decree, seize command of the Fire Knights, the Black Knight, your remaining Carian Knights and peacefully integrate them into the Winter Court’s personal army, from henceforth they shall be known as the Knights of the Moon. Rise Twin Moon Knight, Commander of the Knight of the Moon.” commands Aemon.
“Rellana heeds and obeys the King’s decree.” says Rellana with a bow upon standing.
With a satisfied nod Aemon sheathes Longclaw and exits the cell.
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Exiting the dungeons, Aemon makes his way out of the Winter Fort and towards Caraxes, the dragon having made himself comfortable on the ashes of the once abundant White Forest.
After having successfully gone through the ritual of Dragon Communion, Caraxes has slightly grown, appearing about as big as Daenerys’ dragon Shrykos, the biggest dragon out of the Targaryen sibling’s. However, not only has he grown but his appearance has also changed some. His pupils, which were once slitted as all other dragons, have disappeared leaving only the whites of his eyes. One would not be wrong to assume him blind. Finally, the last change that can be seen are his horns becoming white at tips and his scales receiving a hint of white at their edges; a visual change that is also reflected upon his flames.
Feeling Aemon approach, Caraxes raises himself up and releases a slight rumble from deep within his chest while also making his excitement known through their bond.
“I hear that you burned down the White Fort.” comments Aemon with a smirk as he crosses his arms over his chest.
Roaring while sending a feeling of disdain through bond, Caraxes visibly preens for all to see, as if to say to the spectating fey ‘Of course I did, and I would not hesitate to do so again. Now praise me.’
“As expected of the greatest dragon.” says Aemon with a laugh, eliciting a victorious roar from Caraxes that shakes the very ground they stand on and the Winter Fort behind them.
Hearing a genuine roar come from Caraxes brings a genuine smile upon Aemon’s face. After Daenerys, Aegon, Jaehaerys, and Rhaenys’ dragon had nested at Dragonstone Caraxes had begun to feel slightly insecure at being the only dragon of the nest incapable of a genuine roar. Whereas the others can roar and grumble as much as they please, Caraxes has only ever been capable of screeching, whistling, and other sounds of that nature, an unfortunate consequence of his long neck and smaller chest.
“Those roars do not come from his physical body.” remarks the Other as he curiously surveys Caraxes. “The same way you learn to channel your spirit into that ability, Conqueror’s Presence, is how he is able to roar.” says the Other.
“No wonder he only roars when he feels pride.” remarks Aemon. Pride is the easiest emotion that can allow one to channel an ability such as Conqueror’s Haki, or Conqueror’s Presence as his ancestors have renamed it.
“It seems that this bond between your dragon and you is far more complex than anticipated. If he can already imitate such an ability, what else will he be capable of in time?” asks the Other, his interest quite audible through his voice.
With a smile on his face Aemon approaches Caraxes, the dragon bending his neck to bring his head down to Aemon’s height.
“You have done well.” says Aemon as he caresses the dragon’s snout, eliciting a slight thrill of pleasure from the dragon. “Although I honestly did not expect your flames to have become this hot in such a short span of time, I am pleasantly surprised.” he adds.
Snorting in dismissal, Caraxes regards Aemon with a side eye as if he has been insulted.
“Very well, the fault lies with me for having underestimated you.” says Aemon with a laugh. With a slight roar, Caraxes puffs out his chest before slithering to the ground and inviting Aemon upon his back.
With a smile, Aemon does not hesitate to climb on before commanding his guards to return to the Winter Fort.
As Caraxes takes to the skies with mighty wing beats, Aemon observes that despite not having grown much, his muscles are certainly much more powerful than he anticipated.
…
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Essos, Asshai
107 AC
In the past two years much has changed in Asshai. The great walls that were once only greasy to the touch seem to now be drenched in oil. The black walls that once seem to only drink light now devour it greedily, causing the dark and gloomy atmosphere to not only worsen but also take a sinister turn. Evil lurks here now and the population, once smaller than White Harbor but now surpassing it, seem to revel in it. Slavery runs rampant here, the foul sorcery that was once practiced by the Valyrian Freehold has now become common in this place. Fleshcrafting resulting in the making of chimeras and Tiger-men can be seen through all corners of the city, and the feasting of human flesh is now the primary source of sustenance for many of these sorcerers.
In the center of it all is a massive castle made of the same stone as the walls, so dark, dreary, and sinister that it seems to be growing from the shadows. Within that castle lies the most prominent of the sorcerers that have migrated to Asshai, and in a room shrouded in shadows yet possessing no light is where these sorcerers are currently convening.
“The operation failed.” says one of the shadows within the room, his voice as slick as the grease on the black walls. “Prince Daemon received word of the children and arrived in time to rescue them.”
“It was not a complete failure, I think.” says another, this one’s voice as elusive as smoke. “Although briefly, our agent was able to obtain control of his dragon with the spell, proving our thoughts correct. Should we target an unclaimed dragon with the spell we will have complete control over it, and currently the world does not lack for unclaimed dragons.”
“In Westeros perhaps.” argues another. “We, however, find ourselves lacking in such a department.”
“With a proper distraction that can easily be rectified.” replies the voice of smoke.
“What distraction could be great enough to draw House Targaryen’s attention from the island. Since the first assault Dragonstone has become more guarded than any other fort in Westeros or Essos. Clearly they are expecting us to strike there once more.” says another.
“How is our guest?” asks the voice of grease.
“She fights the spell, but unfortunately for her House Targaryen’s knowledge of the mysteries has not prepared her for it. Soon she will be completely under our control.”
“I must confess, I did not expect the ritual to actually work. Summoning a being from another realm or from the past is beyond what has ever been accomplished using magic.”
“Perhaps, but our lord possesses power beyond the imagination. Granted she was not our intended target, but perhaps that is for the best. After all, she can be credited with much of the Conqueror’s success.”
“Much.” one of them snorts with derision. “House Targaryen would have long fallen without her, and even before then the Conqueror owes his success to her.”
“Regardless, I believe that once she has succumbed to the spell she can serve as the perfect distraction.” says the voice of smoke as a dragon’s roar shakes the city’s core.
Author's Note: Here's the latest chapter. As usual, tell me what you guys think.
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