Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire or Dragon Age
Finally an update, sorry for the wait everyone.
A new year and a new cover for this story and the direction it will take.
The Phoenix and the Griffin
Chapter 20: The Prisoner
The mages were busy, their experiments had stopped for a moment. He opened his eyes, seeing the lab he had been held in for five, ten years? He had lost count of the days in the darkness. They had taken another pint of blood from him, just one more pint before taking on their business for the day. These blue tongued mages, he'd never seen their like before. But they paled in comparison to the mages of Thedas. He raised his head, hearing the cries of the tormented. Were the mages torturing another poor soul? Or were they the ones suffering, he knew a fight when he heard it. A grin crossed the man's face, he rooted for the intruders.
Fausten was on his knees one moment, lamenting the unfortunate turn his life had taken. To see his beloved grandson again, only for that man to scold him. Daenerys felt equal pity and fury for her advisor's predicament. She had been equally impressed and scared by the mage Daylen Amell, as well as the knowledge that there were things in this world she could not understand. But she had no time to lament, nor did Fausten. For Fausten quickly rose from his knelt position and attacked the mages with his knife. 'Mages' was a word he used sparingly for these 'blue lipped addicts', Fausten saw them as nothing but pretenders to people like Daylen, true mages. Plunging his knife into one man's heart, he then dragged it through another's throat. Viserys grappled with one of the mages, they had daggers on them. Daenerys tackled the man and Viserys pried the dagger from his hand, sliding it into the man's eye.
Though he was more comfortable with a spear, Fausten didn't scoff at the range of a knife. He stabbed through the arm pit of one man and pushed him on top of another. The mages too though armed, had not honed their bodies for combat as Fausten had spent his life doing so. As he had spent the past few months doing for the surviving Targaryens. Rhaegar made killing seem like an art form, neither of his siblings compared to him, making the murder of one mage a task in itself. But they were strong and they showed the strength they had gained from their training, if not the skill. Viserys and Daenerys both let out heavy breaths as they knelt over the body of the man they murdered. Viserys dreamt every night of killing Robert Baratheon and the Kingslayer, punishing one for usurping the throne and avenging his father from the other. But with blood now on his hands, Viserys froze and looked at the lifeless husk on the ground. Daenerys's expression seemed like a reflection of that vision they had seen in the Void.
"Up, both of you," Fausten commanded as their general.
When they didn't respond he lifted them both of the floor, shaking Viserys out of his guilt and slapping Daenerys out of the trance she seemed to be in.
"We must move, now, take the daggers slide one through your belt and grip the other one in your dominant hand," he explained, guiding them through the handling of the weapon.
"How do we get out of here?" Viserys asked with a slight panic in his voice.
"I memorised a little bit of the path they took us through, but the House of the Undying is unnatural, they have some kind of mechanism in this building along with the hallucinogens they put into the incense," Fausten explained.
"They've drugged us?" Daenerys asked.
"How else do you think they're capable of seeing into the Fade?" Fausten huffed.
"So they aren't really mages like the ones in Thedas?"
"Some, one in ten may have the genuine gift of magic, others may simply be good at the magic of deception and showmanship, the rest are simple charlatans, using visions to justify power. Visions are often born of a subconscious desire, or a subconscious knowledge," Fausten explained.
"You speak as if you were a Maestar," Viserys said.
"One does not need a chain to possess knowledge, I have been to many places in my time," the former lord of the Amells said.
He carefully opened the door and led them into one of the corridors. Putting his finger to his mouth, he signalled them both to keep quiet. Putting his knife down, he saw two of the mages patrolling the corridors. Hiding in the different rooms in the path, when one crossed him he came out and grabbed him. Clamping his hand over the man's mouth, he wrapped his arm around his neck and brought the man to the ground. Holding tight, he kept on holding him until the man's legs stopped kicking. Daenerys gasped as the other mage found them. But before the man could cry out, or Viserys could strike at the man with his dagger, Fausten grabbed the mage by his head. Kicking out his knees, he slammed the man's head into the wall. Once, twice, the third time made a great crack echo in Daenerys's ears. Fausten viciously twisted the man's neck for good measure.
"Strip off, both of you," he said.
"Disguises," Viserys realised.
"Their robes and hoods are baggy enough to hide you, so long as they don't see your lips you'll be fine. I'll draw their attention, you two use that opportunity to escape," Fausten explained.
"No, Fausten, you said we would reclaim the Iron throne, your men won't follow me," Viserys said.
"What kind of monarchs would we be if we allowed you to die?" Daenerys asked and Fausten smiled.
"You continue to at least try to be better rulers than your father, very well, we'll do this another way," Fausten stroked his chin and let himself block out any of the doubts and fears he had.
Cold logic took hold, all to form a strategy that would ensure their victory. As he had done countless times on the battlefield, this house was simply another battlefield and the supposedly Undying were without a doubt his enemies. Enemies who had no bounties or ransoms to enhance his purse. The battle would end in only one way, one way, the deaths of his enemies. He focused on the prince and princess, mere tools to be used at this point, just like any other soldier.
Westeros-Many years ago
"Apparently there is a rebellion going on in Ferelden, why didn't you go there?" Aerys asked him.
"Don't tell me you regret me coming here?" Fausten asked with a chuckle.
They were still playing chess, still at the window overlooking near enough the south side of the country. Aerys took Fausten's rook, his opponent moving a pawn and seemingly overlooking one of his knights.
"Fire cannot kill a dragon," the prince said and Fausten laughed.
"If the flame is hot enough and if it burns long enough, anything can melt," he said.
"Not the Targaryens," Aerys retorted.
"You're forgetting your own family history my prince, your family has been burning one another for ages," Fausten said.
"Well there is so much to read through, and so many other princely duties that take up my time," Aerys leant back as he spoke, pulling one leg onto his lap.
"Of course Aerys, I'm sure you're burdened with the weight of your family legacy," Fausten huffed and the prince shook his head.
"Well, answer the question, your prince demands it!"
"An outsider like me, it isn't for me to decide who should rule or who shouldn't. There are honourable Orlesians, and there are cruel ones. Perhaps if I was to go there I would find Ferelden to be disgusting and in desperate need of a revolution. Apparently the royal family is still in hiding, but a good share of rebellions have already failed," Fausten explained, moving another of his pawns.
"You could beat them, the Orlesians," Aerys said.
"I think there may be someone amongst the Ferelden people who would be able to best the generals of Orlais," Fausten said.
"A king to lead them," Aerys's lip curved upwards.
"Perhaps," Fausten mused. "But the king maybe the most important piece, and some would argue that the queen is the most powerful," he smirked as Aerys shook her head.
"Don't let my sister hear you speak of that, seven hells the ideas it would give her," Aerys said.
"Frightening ideas Aerys, afraid the women shall be the future?" Fausten asked.
At that the prince laughed loudly, slapping his knee in amusement. Fausten on the other hand kept a straight and stoic face, continuing the game and moving a pawn into place.
"But you see Aerys, the truth of this, of any game is that it's your pawns that are the most important," he said and Aerys stopped laughing.
He moved his knight, taking the pawn that Fausten had moved.
"Yet they die so easily," the prince retorted.
"True, and many lords would not care or even blink to send pawns to their deaths. Yet even the cruellest of lords understands the value of putting a soldier, a spy, a servant in the right place, exactly where they need to be," as Fausten spoke he moved his rook and took Aerys's knight.
In a frustrated state, Aerys moved his own rook to take a pawn. But that rook was then lost to Fausten's knight. Aerys took a deep breath and then chuckled as he rubbed his face, his pupils dilating for just a moment.
"But the pawns, the knights, they're all useless, even the king from one point of view," Fausten said.
"The king shits and the hand wipes," Aerys said.
"Don't dismiss it too much, you need a good player to utilise everything that is strong and weak about every piece. A good player who will do whatever it takes to win, even risk the king," Fausten stated.
Aerys gasped, for Fausten had moved his king onto the field.
Ferelden-Present time
Once again Loghain had heard rumours that the wardens were in Denerim. Apparently they were doing guard work, though Loghain paid no heed to that and instead had Brother Genitiv's house investigated. Though Orlesian, Loghain respected the man for his mind. Two bodies were found, one a very recent kill. That man had been tortured first though, his hands frozen to such a state that it would have been agony for the man. Alistair, Maric's bastard and Duncan's apprentice didn't seem to have the nerve for that. Which left Daylen Amell, 'it's always the quiet ones' Loghain recalled it once being said. When he first met the young man he had already heard of the youth's talent, if not for the academics or practicality of circle taught magic but his originality with it. Most mages bound themselves in such teachings, even apostates used stolen books and shaped themselves to at least fire blasts from their staves like a circle taught mage.
"Father," a voice spoke at the doorway.
Loghain turned to his daughter Anora. She was every bit as brilliant as he was, though her talents was in politics. Such games were her forte and even passion, but unlike other noble raised ladies she knew how to swing a sword. She was every bit a warrior in armour and a dress as Loghain taught her to be. Whilst Cailan hunted, jousted and read his book of adventures and knights, Anora ran the kingdom and most of the nobility knew it. Lately though, the priority was protection of the nation, from the darkspawn and the civil threat that had consumed it. For as valuable an ally as Arl Howe had turned out to be, his actions against the Couslands had thrown Highever and Amaranthine into war. Aedan Cousland was leading attacks in retaliation against the Howe's, even killing Rendon's son. That left one heir to Amaranthine in the Free marches squiring, Loghain always found Nathaniel to be the more useful of Rendon's children.
Rendon's ambitions may have been grand, but Loghain could make use of ambitious men. Howe was a sycophant but a useful one at the moment. On top of the restless nobility, sickness had spread through the Alienage.
"A letter from Redcliff came, tell me father what good is our army if we cannot send it to support our most loyal subjects?" Anora asked, with all the discipline and firmness he had taught her.
But he hid his pride well with the demeanour that was expected of any ruler.
"What news of Redcliff?" he asked.
"Arl Eamon has awakened from a sickness, the circle of magi apparently assisted in healing him from a poison, just after overcoming a rebellion in the circle," Anora said.
Loghain cursed under his breath. One problem after another had piled up. Howe's assassins had failed, the renegade mage had failed, Landry had failed because of his knight's code. Yet, when Loghain walked amongst the people he heard stories pass between them, stories of a Grey warden, burnt and scarred. A warden who would fight off the darkspawn in the country, fight off bandits or negotiate with them to leave with less than they intended and had apparently slain a dragon in the mountains. It reminded Loghain of the stories that people told of himself and Maric's adventures, outlandish tales that sometimes held more truth than common sense might dictate. Ostagar was not Loghain's first encounter with the Darkspawn. He had met witches of the wilds and discovered secrets the elves buried.
"These matters have been settled, I will need to call for outside help to deal with the crisis in the Alienage," Loghain said.
"Keep the sickness limited to the Alienage, if we were to welcome Orlais…"
"NO! HOW MANY TIMES MUST I SAY ANORA? NO ORLESIAN CHAVELIER WILL EVER SET FOOT ON OUR SOIL!" Loghain roared.
He regretted how he spoke to her, but not his fury. Her generation had not suffered at the hands of the Orlesians. But he was thankful for the council anyway, she too must have suspected, perhaps more than Loghain did of some kind of betrayal of Cailan's vows to her. He sent letters to Empress Celene and often spoke with more than respect for her. When he accepted a portrait he commented on the Empress's beauty when Anora herself was present.
"Our troops must be seen to, foreign aid father may be our only choice," Anora said.
"There is truth in what you say Anora, but I would sooner turn to Free March mercenaries than Orlesian soldiers, at least the sell swords will leave when the war is over," Loghain explained.
"But can our treasury bear such a price?" Anora asked.
"There is a way to raise coin," Loghain said as he turned to the map of his nation.
"How father?"
"Often laws have been revoked in a time of crisis, and it may help the elves as well," he said, pretending not to notice the look of shock on Anora's face.
But she seemed to nod in some kind of acceptance as she walked away from him. When he was sure she was no longer nearby, Loghain slammed his fist into the table.
'What would you hate me for more old friend? The death of your son? Or the enslavement and trade of our own people?'
Pyat Pree looked up at the prisoner, chained to the platform. Marks on his arms indicated places where they had drained blood. Leeches had only proved to have a moderate success when it came to the subject's blood. The magic of the Undying was chemical in nature. They only managed brief encounters with the fade, and the briefest flashes of the magic that mages in Thedas could afford. Pyat looked over at the dragon eggs, petrified dragon eggs that might as well have been stones to the common folk. To lords they were symbols of authority, the story behind the eggs would allow them to rally troops or raise gold. But to the mages of the Undying, to the survivors of Valyria, they were pathways to power that the land had forgotten.
"Grand enchanter Pyat, grand enchanter," another of the mages rushed into the room.
"Is it the search?" Pyat asked the hooded man.
"The mother, they found her, they found the mother," the mage said.
"Good, very good, she must be brought here for the eggs, we must reawaken the magic of this world," Pyat slapped his hands together, blue lips twisting into a grin.
Outside the House of the Undying, those left behind by James Marcher stood on Qarth's city walls, hearing the panic in the people's voices. A horde of Dothraki had been sighted, and the merchants were preparing gifts to appease them.
"Grain and gold, and people," Alexa scowled as she watched some of the most beautiful girls in Qarth being inspected by their elders.
"The Dothraki want the people more than the gold, people are more valuable to them," Durad said.
"Play things," Asher seethed.
"Would the Westerosi treat their women captives any differently?" Khalid asked.
"Westeros is Civil, but Civil doesn't always mean the absence of savagery," Laurence said.
"Hey boy, how many amongst the horde?" Durad asked a passerby.
"The shepherds spoke of two clouds of horses, coming from separate directions, but joining as one," the boy explained.
"Two hordes," Alexa mused.
"Perhaps they've decided Qarth itself is worth allying themselves, Khal's usually don't like sharing glory," Khalid said.
But the arrival of the Qunari meant nothing to the Undying. Pyat smiled as Daenerys was led into the chamber, her arms bound by the two robed mages pushing her. She looked towards the prisoner, a man with a long dirty blonde beard and a thin body. Pyat looked at Daenerys like a priest at his idol.
"Across the sea in Thedas, they undertake a ritual called a Harrowing, they go into the Fade and face a demon. To prove that they can resist temptation and even slay a demon at their most power, that is the truest quality of a mage to them, and you passed your Harrowing Daenerys Stormborn," Pyat explained.
"I was not alone, across the sea there is one whom is now aware of Fausten Amell being alive, he will avenge his grandfather's death if you kill him," Daenerys said.
"We will not fear the power of some foreign mage. Once we have restored magic, the House of the Undying will be the most important organisation in the region. We whom have studied magic will be able to teach all those whose magic awakens, to guide them…"
"To control them you mean," Daenerys spat.
"All need guidance, all need purpose, with your help we will not only restore life to these eggs but bring back the wonders of the world," Pyat motioned to the eggs at his side.
"Dragon eggs, from old Valyria?" she asked.
"The dragon breed of Valyria are some of the most unique dragons in the known world. They could grow as large as mountains, yet they could be tamed and bound to others. The dragons of Thedas are wild and untameable," Pyat explained.
"Then unlike the Valyrian dragons they can never be enslaved."
"Your forebears were truly impressive to be able to use dragons as mounts, they bound this lands magic to those dragons and when the dragons were no more the magic faded from the land. Your great grandfather attempted to bring dragons back, but created only tragedy," Pyat stated.
"The fire at Summerhall that took the lives of Aegon and Sir Duncan the Tall," Daenerys said.
"Yes, but in their failure we shall find success, your blood will be cast into fire and we shall use your life to bind these powerful weapons to our will. As well as the masters of magic, we shall be the masters of dragons too," Pyat explained.
"Dragons are not slaves," Daenerys said glaring at the mage.
The robed men suddenly let her go and she drew a knife from her wrist. As soon as her blade pierced Pyat's shoulder, the men behind her removed their robes. Viserys and Fausten threw their robes at the mages around them. Drawing the knife on his belt, Viserys stabbed one of the men in the head. Fausten grabbed hold of the robe he threw, binding it tightly to one man's throat and suffocating him. Just as one of the mages came up behind Fausten, Daenerys ran away from Pyat and tackled the man. Fausten smashed a man's head into the floor and trapped the hand of the man Daenerys was attacking. She was able to move the man's hand, plunging his own knife into his chest.
"GET THEM!" Pyat screamed, pulling Daenerys's knife out.
Fausten grabbed one of the lamps on the wall and threw it at the approaching mages. The oil and flames spread and the mages screamed. Viserys silenced his enemy by stabbing him through the throat. Pyat gripped his shoulder, moving to the eggs. But to his horror, one of the burning mages ran in his path. He backed away and began to make his way to the door. As the two Targaryens and Fausten battled the mages, the Prisoner began to find his strength again. Watching these people defy his captives made him remember a battle from long ago. Adrenaline and something else took over, his blue eyes turning blood red as he let out a growl. Pulling against the chains, he yelled like an animal until they snapped off of the wall. Swinging the chains, he caught two of the mages in the head.
"YOU!" he roared at Pyat.
He jumped on another mage, smashing his head against the ground until his skull caved in. Pyat backed towards the door in terror. He tried to open it, only for a chain to suddenly wrap around his neck. The Prisoner pulled Pyat back first onto the ground. Pyat tried to crawl towards the door, but was grabbed by the Prisoner. Pushing back Pyat's head, the Prisoner roared before biting into Pyat's neck. The mage screamed in agony before blood began to flood out of his mouth. Fausten stabbed a final mage in the chest and looked to the prisoner with his charges. It could have been a trick of the light, but the man seemed to briefly regain whatever muscle he had before imprisonment.
"Finally, they're dead, they're finally dead," the Prisoner spoke in a dry and cracked voice.
"How long were you a prisoner?" Daenerys asked.
"It seems so long, what is the year?" he asked.
"Your accent, it's Ferelden from what I can tell, 9:30 is the year," Fausten said, stepping in from of the prince and princess.
"That would mean, five years, five years in hell and I have you all to thank for that," the man weakly knelt.
An action that made Daenerys step forward.
"You have been a prisoner for too long, you need not kneel to us," she said.
"Look sister," Viserys called to her.
She walked to his side, looking into the bowl that contained the two dragon eggs. Though they were grey like stone, they still had majestic scale patterns across their surface. They both took an egg and felt a feeling of wonder and pride, remembering their family history with dragons. Fausten turned to the prisoner as the man covered his shoulders with a mage's robe.
"You truly are from Thedas aren't you? You're a Reaver right?" Fausten asked.
"I was not always, apparently there is some kind of dormant dragon's blood in my family. That's what they were doing here you know, trying to repeat the experiments of Old Valyria in any way they could," the man explained.
"Could they truly have awakened these eggs?" Viserys asked.
"Perhaps, I'm no mage so I wouldn't know, what I do know is that I may very well owe you all my life. I thank you for that, oh, I'm sorry would any of you happen to have any water?" the man asked.
Viserys shook his head, whilst Daenerys smiled. Fausten gave the man his water pouch and helped him to take small sips.
"Thank you, let me introduce myself," he bowed his head and spoke a name that made Fausten gasp in shock:
"Maric Theirin, at your service!"
Next Chapter 21: Unexpected Journeys
Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, and the twist, more to come next time.