ASOIAF: Dimensional Chat Group

Location:???

Daytime is here, yet darkness covers the city. The far off sound of thunder rumbles through the sky but not a single storm cloud can be seen, for it is not rain that follows the sound, but sickly green flames that burns the air as they rain down, and boils the Blackwater Bay. 

Aemon finds himself in this hellscape. Hellfire rains from above, slowly burning all in its vicinity regardless of material. Around him men, women, and children flee from the city, their screams echoing around him as buildings crumble and crash, sickly green flames burn all. He reaches out to a young woman carrying a babe only for their skin to melt and boil before him, their eyes popping out of their sockets. 

The sight freezes him in place, never in all his years as he seen such a horrific sight, not even during the Long Night. 

A thunderous roar shakes him from his stupor and he turns his eye to the sky whereupon he sees a massive, savage, black dragon fly over the city, spewing sickly green flames into the air for it to rain over them. 

Aemon does not remember when he moved or how he found himself grasping Longclaw and leaping through the air when moments ago he was weaponless and frozen in shock and fear. Still, it matters not. All that matters is that he has his sword in hand and a dragon that needs slaying. 

As he flies towards the dragon, a dragon's roar rips through his throat as his Conqueror's Presence slams into the black dragon and accomplishes nothing other than drawing the beast's attention to Aemon. As he nears the dragon's neck, the beast turns its head towards Aemon, opening its jaw wide; and all Aemon can do as the green flames build in its gullet is watch in horror.

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Location:???

He awakes with a scream on his lips, his heart pounding like a stampede, and drowning in sweat, his breathing labored and ragged, and his eyes searching wildly for the black dragon. 

"Dark portents if there ever was one." he hears his mother speak to his right. 

"Mother." he gasps between breaths as he turns to face her.

"Shhh it was only a dream, my son." she comforts as she gently takes his head and pulls him into a hug. "Only a dream." she reiterates while caressing his hair, her voice and actions causing his breath to even out and his heart to return to its natural slow beat.

As Aemon begins to settle, another draws his attention. 

"Yes, a dream with dangerous implications." says the new voice, drawing Aemon's eyes to him. 

"A Targaryen?" Aemon whispers to himself, for standing before him is none other than a man with the silver white hair, amethyst eyes, and unnatural beauty of House Targaryen. 

"Stand, boy." says the man as he grabs Aemon by the collar and pulls him to his feet. "We have much to speak on."

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Westeros, King's Landing

The Red Keep

107 AC

Her bastard is back, Queen Alicent thinks to herself giddily as she makes her way through the Red Keep in search of said bastard, she did not have the opportunity to speak to him yesterday and is hoping today would be different. Her bastard is back, and unlike his more unruly siblings he seems to have actually been serving the crown's interests during his absence. Uncovering and thwarting a plot by the Triarchy in order to abduct children of royal blood for their own purpose; no doubt in order to obtain their own dragon to wage war against Westeros.

Despite her complicated emotions towards Prince Daemon, any child of his is of royal blood, bastard or not. As such had the Triarchy obtained the twins then Westeros would soon find themselves with two dragonlords for enemies, and should the Triarchy be intelligent those twins would have been made to sire countless children to add to that number. 

Still, it begs the question, where did the Triarchy plan to obtain dragons for the children to bond with? Did they perhaps find the eggs Ellissa Farman stole from Dragonstone? And if so, were they successful in hatching them? The very thought worries Alicent for it means that there are those beyond the royal family and the Dragonkeepers knowledgeable in the secrets of Old Valyria. Somewhere in Essos some bastard may be bonding to a dragon while her son Aegon's egg remains inert for two years now. The more Alicent thinks on it the more it seems that Daemon and Corlys were correct in viewing the Triarchy as a threat, and as much as it pains to admit that the Rogue Prince of all people is correct she must admit that they can no longer turn a blind eye to them.

As she arrives at her destination, the training yard, she finds that a massive crowd has been formed. 

"Is it typically this crowded at this time of day." she asks Ser Arryk, her Kingsguard for the day.

"No your grace." he replies.

Despite the crowd it is not difficult for her to find a good place to watch the activities, especially since she is on the balcony overlooking the yard whereas most of the crowd is around the training yard itself. 

"It is a surprise to see you here, your grace." says one of the many women standing on the balcony, the only one who seems to notice her appearance for the others are quite enthralled with the spar in the training yard.

Turning to the young woman, Alicent finds that it is Lord Redwyne's daughter who greeted her, though her name escapes her at the moment. 

"Lady Redwyne, I have merely come to see what the excitement is about." greets Alicent before turning her eyes to the training yard where she sees Aemon facing off against four unknown knights with live steel in hand. 

He dances between them, weaving in and out of their range, gracefully parrying their swords before retaliating with deadly precision. Yet his opponents are clearly competent themselves for they constantly defend themselves despite it clearly being a losing battle. Watching it all, Alicent cannot help but be enthralled. Even in battle he is different from his brute of a brother. Graceful, quick, precise, and above all else beautiful. 

As Maester Gyldayn wrote in the Doctrine of Exceptionalism, one had only to look at him to know that he is not like other men; his amethyst eye that seems to glow, his long flowing hair of black with silvery white streaks, and his very bearing, all proclaim him different. Unfortunately he is a bastard, not fit to marry or ride a dragon. But that is fine with her, Alicent has other uses for him.

"He has been here for hours now, sparing with these same four knights and not once has he lost." says Lady Redwyne, bringing Alicent out of her trance. 

True to the lady's words Aemon disarms one of the knights before throwing him one of his allies, allowing him to quickly disarm the other two, leaving only one to face him.

"Well?" he says as the last knight steps towards him, a massive wall of steel and muscle of man standing at least seven feet in height. "The day will not get younger." he says while twirling the sword in his hand.

"You have been in a foul mood for much of the morning, Lord Commander." says the knight, his voice low and rough yet still somehow pleasant.

"Aye, Eredin, I came here to find myself a competent group of warriors to beat upon, unfortunately I must make due with you." says Aemon.

"Well, Lord Snow, if it is a beating you are searching for who I am to deny you." responds the knight as he attacks, moving faster than Alicent thought possible for a man of that size.

"Who is this knight?" asks Alicent as she turns to Ser Arryk.

"I do not know your grace. Though I doubt that he is a knight, for I would know if such a massive and skillful knight existed." replies Ser Arryk.

"Is he very skillful?" she asks, not able to completely remove the doubt that creeps into her voice.

"Very, your grace. I can count on one hand the knight who would stand a chance against him, my brothers in arms included." says Ser Arryk. "In fact all of them are worthy of the Kingsguard were they to be judged on skill alone. It is a shame that they are easily overshadowed by Princess Saera's son." he adds.

"That is high praise from a knight of the Kingsguard." remarks Alicent.

"Well deserved praise, your grace." Ser Arryk says. "I have never seen a man move like that. In fact, I did not think it possible at all. When it comes to matters of the sword I do not think that there has ever been one like him, and I doubt that there will ever be another."

As if to prove Ser Arryk's point, Aemon maneuvers around the giant in a manner that should not be possible for the human body and disarms his opponent before placing his blade at Eredin's throat. 

"Yield." says Eredin as he steps back, causing the onlookers to erupt in cheer, Aemon's face remaining stark and emotionless despite the praise being heaped upon him.

With a nod Aemon returns the sword to Eredin. He seems to be preparing for another bout only to stop when his witch, Evelynn, Alicent seems to recall her name being, approaches him and whispers something in his ear. For the first time since arriving, Alicent sees Aemon emote as a frown appears on his face. Whatever it is the witch has reported to him it has clearly fouled his already poor mood. 

Turning to the four knights he spared with, Aemon commands them, his words unintelligible over the sound of the crowd. All Alicent knows is that his words cause them to briskly leave the training yard while Aemon remains behind, seemingly deep in thought. 

Soon enough however he seems to come to a decision and turns to leave the training yard. Anxious, Alicent leaves the balcony and sets a brisk pace towards the exit of the training yard, managing to catch Aemon just as he passes by, Evelynn one step behind him.

"Aemon." greets Alicent with a smile. 

"Lady Alicent." he returns with a nod, only to be corrected by Ser Arryk.

"Your grace." says Ser Arryk only to be ignored by Aemon.

"What brings you here, my lady?" asks Aemon, causing Alicent to purse her lips.

"You will address the queen with the respect she is due, bastard." says Ser Arryk as he draws his sword.

"I don't have time for this." sneers Aemon as he walks past Alicent, shoving Ser Arryk away as if he weighs nothing when he attempts to stop him. 

"What has you in such a hurry, Lord Snow?" asks Alicent with a frown only to receive no reply. When she turns to look behind her, Aemon and his witch are nowhere to be seen and the corridor is empty as if they were never there in the first place.

"Do you wish to have him arrested, your grace?" asks Ser Arryk as steadies himself and sheaths his sword. 

"No. I am sure that he has a perfectly good explanation for this." Alicent says with narrowed eyes. He better have or she will not mind reminding him of his place, she thinks to herself.

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Daemon did not expect to have Aemon barge into his room while he prepares his children for the day and starling his sons in the process..

"I may allow much leeway in how you act, but you are tethering dangerously close to the limit." he warns with narrowed eyes, though there is not much heat in his glare.

"There are Triarchy agents in the city." Aemon says, causing Daemon to roll his eyes. 

"Of course there are, just as every other Free City of Essos has their agents in Kings Landing." Daemon replies. 

"Aye, and I am sure every one of these agents is in possession of a glass candle." Aemon retorts and all signs of brevity leaves Daemon. 

Glass candles are magical artifacts of the Freehold. They are tall and twisted with sharp edges. These glass candles give off an unpleasantly bright light that does strange things to colors. White becomes as bright as fresh fallen snow, yellow shines like gold, red turns to flame, and shadows become so black that they look like holes in the world.

Made of obsidian, they allowed the sorcerers of the Valyrian Freehold to see across mountains, seas, and deserts; give men visions and dreams; and communicate with one another half a world apart. These functions alone are enough to alarm Daemon, however unknown to most they hold another darker function. Daemon himself only found out through perusing the personal journal of Queen Visenya on Dragonstone. In the correct hands they are able to control the thoughts and actions of a designated target.

If the Triarchy employed the aid of a sorcerer in possession of a glass candle then there is no telling what chaos they can cause or what scheme they may enact.

"The sorcerer is in custody, my agents have long placed him in chains and are questioning him as we speak. However, the mere presence of a single one is cause for worry." Aemon says, and for a brief moment Daemon feels some measure of relief.

However that relief is quickly washed away as his mind begins to pose some questions. Is this the only agent? When did he enter the city and how? What is his purpose for coming here? Etc…The more Daemon wonders, the less safe the city seems to become. 

Looking towards his children who watch him curiously, Daemon cannot help but feel frustrated. Nowhere seems to be safe for his children. 

Turning to Aemon, an idea begins to form in Daemon's mind.

"Your brother, Jaehaerys, tells me that you are well versed in the higher mysteries ." says Daemon as he stands from his seat and ties his sword belt around his waist. 

"Aye." says Aemon he raises his gloved hand and summons a flame, much to the joy and fascination of Daemon's sons.

It takes much to convince his sons to allow him to finish his conversation with Aemon, but once he does turns to the man; more sure of his decision now.

"Good." nods Daemon, "He also tells me that you command your own small force of warriors. An elite force that he says he would wager his sword on regardless of who they face as adversaries." Daemon adds, barely catching Aemon's eye narrowing before his face turns emotionless. Lord Snow indeed, Daemon thinks to himself with satisfaction. 

It is a gamble he is taking here, to do what he is about to. To entrust the safety of his family to Aemon's own soldier as opposed to his trusted Goldcloaks. But needs must and Daemon has an inkling that Aemon's soldiers possess magical advantages that his Goldcloaks and any other knights, men-at-arms, soldiers, etc…lack.

However, before Daemon can ask his question, he is interrupted by the sound of clashing swords and the screaming smallfolk.

Alarmed he rushes over to his window, finding a gruesome sight waiting for him. Beyond his window, within and past the Red Keep, men senselessy slaughter each other. 

"You said that your men have the sorcerer in chains?" snarls Daemon as Aemon joins him by the window, a frown marring his face as he looks at the carnage.

"Then what the fuck is this?" he demands. 

For a moment Aemon seems lost, his eyes darting from place to place before he seems to come to a startling realisation as he turns towards Daemon, "The Citadel." he whispers, and Daemon feels his smoldering rage erupt like a volcano.

Off in the distance Caraxes' screeching roar shakes the Dragonpit.

Author's Note: Here's the latest chapter. As usual, tell me what you guys think. If you want to support me or read ahead, you at my patreon: patreon.com/servantambrosius