Disclaimer: I don't own A song of Ice and Fire or Dragon Age
The Phoenix and the Griffin
Chapter 16: House of the Undying
The Meadow
Peace seemed everlasting in the Meadow, things were stable between the Greenwards and the Amells again. The new recruits for the Meadow's official militia rushed to join. Uther stood with Balthazar and Cassius to train the young men and women in how to fight. Selene saw to the logistics of it, determining the new investments that the Amell family would make. In order to succeed in their ventures, they had to accumulate wealth through more than just taxes and mining. Fausten taught all of his grandchildren the art of economics, though he had not been Selene's teacher, Revion had come close to his grandfather's expertise. It was part of the reason why Selene loved him so much, he had taught her how to be independent. She ruled the Meadow and determined policy just as much as he did. Oliver though served as a chief advisor to them both, acting when they weren't available.
"A fishing fleet in White Harbour, wine traders in Dorne, and silk traders in King's landing, twenty percent shares of each business should give us a significant sum," he explained.
The veiled man sat on a straw chair, his sleeves rolled up. Two Chantry sisters rubbed a salve over his scarred and blister ridden skin. It was indeed true that Oliver was afflicted with a severe degenerative skin condition. Many of the physicians he had seen, stated that it would be a miracle for him to reach thirty. He was twenty two, and one of Revion's closest friends. He put his glove back on and stood, bowing to Selene before he turned to the map on it.
"The imports business is beginning to spread to Essos, the new ships will be able to collect the gold for Gerion Lannister. I can't say I feel comfortable with Revion's plan my lady," Oliver explained.
"I know, but when has Revion led you astray?" Selene asked.
"It only takes one instance for it to be a disaster my lady," Oliver leant against the table, gripping his side.
"You should take a rest," she said.
"Is that a command my lady?"
"Don't be snippy, as both your lady and your friend, I am worried, Revion may not seem it but he is too," Selene said.
"I know his heart Selene, perhaps better than you," Oliver said.
"Tell me what is in your heart Oliver? What do you feel over supporting Gerion Lannister?" she asked.
Oliver took the map off of the table, motioning to the edges of it.
"We know that beyond the map is Thedas, and perhaps what Gerion seeks, old Valyria, or what may be left of it. We provide him sailors, ships, and some gold, that way the Lannisters are indebted to us. But Gerion will not tell his brother of this, and though Tywin Lannister values his family reputation and continued success, if Gerion fails, he may declare any debt void. The pair of them have never truly gotten along," he explained.
"You're right, I've sure Revion realises this, but it is good to make friends with Lannisters. Lannisters, Tyrells and Starks, we're making friends as much as we can," Selene said.
Oliver nodded his head and placed the map back on the table.
"If an event happens that leads the Lannisters to fight with the Starks, we will have to make a choice over whom we side with. The problem with making friends, is that sometimes you have to choose between them," Oliver explained.
"Not always," Selene said.
"You are far too optimistic my lady," Oliver muttered.
As they spoke, Revion stood in the training courtyard, twirling a staff around. His opponent wore a white robe and hood, the edge of the coat and sleeves were red, as was the staff they carried. Revion thrust and parried, battling with his sparring partner until he was tripped.
"Well done, you lasted five minutes, you're getting the hang of the Katas," she said, offering Revion her hand.
"Thank you," he said.
She pulled him up, then lowered her hood, revealing a blonde haired woman.
"Why do you want to know the Katas?" she asked. "There is no guarantee that you even have magic. Besides, I am living proof that magic cannot reach here," she said.
"Morgiana, there is more to magic than simply fire and ice, it is about the connections," Revion said.
"But people in Westeros haven't connected with magic since the times of the original Targaryens," Morgiana said.
"Giving him a history lesson my dear?" Bella asked, walking to the training circle.
"I'm sure Revion knows his history better than I do, I'm simply questioning his desire to reconnect with magic," Morgiana said.
"If magic was to come to Westeros again, it would be the single biggest disaster this nation has ever faced. Thousands of children, and possibly grown adults suddenly awakening magic they have no knowledge of or way to control, and no trained force to fight the demons and abominations that would inevitably result," Bella explained.
"But then there would be wonders in Westeros again," Revion said.
The way he said it disturbed the mother and her daughter. Morgiana was the reason Bella left the service of the Chantry in Val Royeaux. She fell in love with a man, and fathered a child, a mage child. Morgiana however would be one of four Apostates (that the Amells knew of) to smuggle themselves into the lands of Westeros and Essos. An elf mage named Sketch settled himself in the Riverlands, helping elves there, though on occasion providing herbal 'treatments' to the lords whom paid him well. Pardraic Sétanta was a roguish sort, whom carried his staff in the form of a green and gold spear. Exploring the north, he wore a blue shirt underneath straps of leather and steel armour, armoured boots, gauntlets, though he kept his right arm exposed. The dark haired man had the reputation in Thedas as a self taught 'melee range caster', his crimes also included infiltrating the esteemed Knight-Enchanter organisation, just so he could paint 'Knight-Enchanters suck, Arcane Warriors For the Win!' in their meeting chamber.
In the North though he was known as an entertainer during banquets, a sage whom assisted pilgrims on the road, and a protector of villagers struck by wildling bandits. His spear wasn't just for show, but for every person whom thought of him as a healer and hero, there were those whom accused him of crimes. The Night's watch accused him of assisting Wildlings in getting over the wall, though the accusations were always regarded lightly as he was known to kill Wildling raiders.
The fourth had gone to the region of Essos. Phaedra was said to be a great beauty, a promising mage. But not long after her harrowing in Montsimmard, she attempted to kill her First Enchanter Vivienne. Her reason, 'spend years listening to that stuck up, self righteous bitch, then you'll know why.' The dark haired, blue eyed woman was something of a wild witch in the deserts of Essos. Until she was able to build a cult around her. This cult eventually grew into a mercenary army, Phaedra herself married a tribal king named Lander, and was said to have interrogated men with powders and gasses that could induce terrible hallucinations. Of all the mages in this part of the world, Bella was thankful that it was her daughter and not the others whom served the House Amell.
Essos
Qarth, a city James had visited in the past. When he was younger, he sought contracts from the lords of Qarth. Even the fabled House of the Undying asked a service of him. Back then, as Fausten Amell, he saw them as a fearful cult and wanted nothing from them. Instead he invoked a promise of future payment. Today was the day he intended to collect. Riding the carriage through the desert wastes, James could see the city in the distance. He looked over his shoulder and saw the unconscious princess, the prince placing a wet towel over her forehead, dripping a few drops of the water into her mouth. Vincent's short hair and now dirty features were a contrast to the pale skinned, long haired brat that James had first encountered. He seemed to have all but abandoned the Viserys persona that he had shown to him those months ago. Now, he looked more like a brother caring for his sick sister.
"Get us there Fausten," he said.
James could sense the grief in the young man's voice. But there was something else there too. He knew what it was, but he dared not cross the line and have the secret Targaryen reveal it yet.
"You must call me James when in the city, even when in the presence of the mages," James said, scoffing slightly at the last word.
"Are they anything like the mages of your continent?" Vincent asked.
"Nothing like them at all, they paint their fingers and their teeth, and their magic if one could call it that does not draw on any of the schools of magic they study in Thedas," James explained.
"But they can help Dany?"
"They're our best hope," James said.
They would not be alone, taking some of their troops with them. Qarth would not open their doors to an army, but an honour guard, with a promise to protect them for a reduced price was their ticket in.
"Qaartheens, called Milk Men by the Dothraki, you could tell why," James gestured to the natives of the city, many of them bearing complexions too pale considering the desert heat.
Vincent softly brushed the bangs of Danielle's hair away from her closed eyes. He ran his fingers through the strands, her roots were beginning to show. Carrying her on the stretcher with Asher, they and the other men and women with them followed James through the city streets.
"The official governing body of Qarth are the Enthroned, whom seat themselves in the Hall of a Thousand Thrones. But they contend for rule with the Ancient Guild of Spicers, the Tourmaline brotherhood and the Thirteen," James explained.
"The thirteen?" one of the merc troops asked.
"Still a merchant guild, but a powerful one, named because of the thirteen merchant princes that make up their council. They're businessmen, running a city can be a prosperous thing, especially when one can control the taxes and determine which businesses enter and exit. So the Purebloods want to keep their power because, tradition, the Ancient Guild of Spicers want more profits as does the Brotherhood and the Thirteen," the general continued.
"And what do the Undying want?" Vincent asked.
"Power, power and more power," James said.
"First we'll go to the House of the Undying, then we'll visit the Purebloods and afterwards the Merchant guilds. The one thing they can agree on is that they want to stop paying tributes to the Dothraki, we scouted a horde not far from here, no doubt they'll have learnt this," James explained.
"But the Undying will be able to help my sister won't they?"
"I understand your concern, we'll do everything we can to save her. But...something you'll have to come to terms with, no matter how much you hate it, is that there are some things beyond your control. The circumstances that led to your father's death being one of them, your mother's passing, a great many things. It was my wish for Danielle to know the Fade, I did not conceive the possibility that the soul I wanted to connect her to would be endangered."
"May I speak in private with you for a moment general?" Vincent asked.
James nodded to his men and they took the stretcher from the prince. Draping his arm over the young man's shoulder, James led him to an overlooked corner of the market.
"What was your plan there Fausten?" Viserys demanded.
"For Daenerys to meet either a potential ally...or a potential husband," Fausten said and Viserys gasped.
"Trying to play matchmaker, I see, you couldn't have our mother so you try to force my sister on your grandson," Viserys said.
"Must you make it sound so maniacal?" Fausten asked.
"She is to be my queen, my sister-wife as tradition demands, to keep our bloodline pure," Viserys said.
"A pure bloodline will not save your kingdom from the Baratheons and the Lannisters. Nor will it redeem the failures of your family," Fausten explained.
"The seven kingdoms knew peace under our family!"
"Except the Sister men's rebellion, the Dornish wars, the Faith militant uprising, the War for the Stepstones..."
"Yes I understand..."
"The Dance of Dragons, the Fair Isle rebellion, the Iron Island Succession struggle..."
"You made your point old man."
"Conquest of Dorne, the Blackfyre rebellions, the Peake Uprising, the Reyne-Tarbeck revolt and of course..."
"Robert's rebellion, yes, so..."
"So centuries of Targaryen rule and they were so peaceful weren't they?" Fausten asked smugly.
"Then why save us? Is it just for revenge and redemption?" Viserys asked.
"Mostly, but I told you what Joffrey was like, I told you what the nation is like. There needs to be change or it'll just be a constant wheel of conflict and political manoeuvres, I want to shatter the board that is the Game of Thrones. Now I admit I did try to manipulate your sister into meeting Daylen. But it was only my hope that they would...hit it off. The reality is that no two souls can be forced together, love cannot be forged by some wave of the wand. My second hope was that Daenerys would see the man my grandson has become, and that she would tell me what kind of man he is," Fausten explained.
"I cannot forgive it, but there isn't much I can do right now, I need you to save my sister," Viserys said.
"Then let us go my prince," Fausten clapped Viserys's shoulder and smiled. "Let's save our Dany!"
Unknown
Daenerys opened her eyes. She slowly rose, feeling bile in her stomach. She hadn't thought it was possible to feel sick in the Fade, but she felt well and truly ill. It felt as if something was crawling around in her stomach. The dread that filled her became more apparent as she looked at where she was. Viserys once described the throne of Westeros as a chair made from a thousand swords. Instead, she saw a twisted version of it, an opposite. Aegon took the swords of the defeated and burned them down.
But the throne Daenerys looked at was made from people's hands, all sown together to make a chair. As if Aegon had decided to cut off the sword hands of his enemies and use them as the building blocks of his chair. The flesh throne was in a grand hall, like the cathedrals that Fausten described to her. Blood stained the black and white panel floors. Daenerys drew the short sword from her waist, and found that the blade was dull. Knowing better than to call out, Daenerys made her way to the exit. The massive doors opened by their own will, and Daenerys gasped for air. Outside what Daenerys saw was a cathedral, the air was heavy, she could see a great smog in place of the clouds. There was light, but not bright sunlight, a cloudy day could make the world seem grey. But this world seemed to be lit by darker colours of blue and purple. The dirt beneath her crunched like snow, and as Daenerys advanced through the graveyard, she came across a hooded individual.
"Another soul of beauty, come to this damning place," his voice sounded dry and strained, as if the very act was agonising.
Yet part of him seemed accustomed to the pain. Daenerys drew closer, and saw that the man was carrying a shovel with a spiked shaft. His hands held the thorns with no care, the skin was dry and withered. Upon seeing his face, Daenerys recoiled in shock, the man had black eyes and withered skin.
"It's rare for a mage to come here, not since the times of old, since the wolf, since those whom sought a golden throne...oh they found a golden throne all right," the sound of his laughter was like nails on a chalk board.
"What is this place? The fade?" Daenerys asked.
"Nonexistence we call it, the Void, pick whatever name you want, we don't care for it. Everything that comes here eventually ceases to exist, as I did," the grave digger said.
"You were a person once?"
"Was I? I don't know, don't much care really, I just dig, dig, dig the graves," he turned to Daenerys with a hum.
She immediately put her hand to her sword, the man's arms clicked as he lifted them. One eye popped out of his socket as he made a box with his hands, measuring Daenerys. Like a snake, the sinew of the eye slipped the orb back into the socket. He then picked up the shovel and began digging a fresh grave.
"Others came here yes, was one a boy, possibly six or seven, red haired?" Daenerys asked.
"You all start in a different place, but you all end up in the same place," the grave digger said.
"And where is that?"
"Nowhere!"
Shaking her head, Daenerys walked past the grave digger and left the cemetery. Once past the gate, she looked upon her new surroundings and the path beyond her. She saw a gothic city where wraith like creatures gathered, beyond that she saw a crumbling castle that seemed to put itself back together again. And beyond that she saw a tower, and the distant shapes of winged creatures. It was as good a target as any to reach. But she would search for the boy.
'Remember all you were taught,' Daenerys told herself.
She felt uneasy about the path ahead and the figures on it. When she advanced further, she saw that they were robed figures. Their limbs were lanky, and when they turned their heads towards her, they revealed mouths filled with oily tentacles. Then they began to sprint towards her. Daenerys drew her sword, fear taking hold. The footsteps, the stance, they all faded from her mind as the creatures swung at her. She was barely able to block in time, stumbling onto her back. Quickly rolling to her feet, she blocked again, and again.
'Wait for the opening,' she reminded herself of the lessons Fausten gave her.
They were wild, flailing their arms about. Daenerys swung, tearing through the mouth of one creature. But another's claw caught her arm, cutting her sleeve. She felt more agony than she should have, falling and rolling to the floor. Aiming a kick for its knee joints, she felt it's bones break. But it didn't recoil in pain, it crawled on top of her. The creature's tentacle maw wrapped across the back of her head. With a scream, Daenerys grabbed her sword and smashed the creature across the head. Pulling away its tentacles, she stepped over the monster and bashed its head again and again.
Heavy breathes escaped her mouth. She had undertaken stamina, endurance and muscle training. She was not the lymph princess suitors no doubt expected her to be. But she still felt tired after the single encounter with the monsters of this world, this Void.
House of the Undying
Or rather just outside of it, James and his men waited for the Warlocks to allow admittance. Their vassal came in the form of one Pyat Pree, a pale man with blue lips and even bluer teeth. His skin and eyes made him seem like a creature to Vincent, even the hardened men beside him were put off by the warlock. James removed his helmet and slid his sword out of his belt. When the man nodded to him, Vincent did the same, taking away his sword and dagger.
"I knew you by a different name, a different face too," Pyat said, looking at James.
"You did, but the debt still stands, none of your tricks or you know the consequences," James said.
"Indeed we do, the Iron bank are not the only ones whom value debts. As for your charges, whether they return to us is up to them," Pyat explained.
He motioned for James and Vincent to follow him. They took hold of either side of the stretcher and carried Danielle towards the palace. The oval shape of the door, and the likeness of the human face on the wall made it seem as if they were walking through a maw. It was dark in the house of the undying, a result of there being no windows in the building. The only light came from the torches. Men in robes similar to Pyat's came out of one of the doors, bowing their heads.
"These men will take the girl and examine her, for now you will wait," Pyat said.
"As our host wishes," James said.
He sat first, and Vincent joined him not long after, nervously rubbing his hands together. There was a long wait, and an even longer silence. Vincent bit his nails, shook his knees, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
"You're afraid," James said.
Vincent lowered his head and let out a tired breath. He sniffed, wiping his eyes.
"I have not been kind to her," he said.
"You'd parted with all that was left of your mother, you were forced to flee, to house with sycophants feeding you visions of retaking your throne," James explained.
"Is that truly an excuse?" Vincent asked, glaring at James.
"I was willing to sell her, I would have let some savage horse lord fuck her, I would have let a whole horde fuck her if it meant I go an army to retake the throne. I've hit her, blamed her, through her I made myself feel strong...and made her feel like nothing," his shoulders shook as he wiped his face. "If she doesn't wake up, then I'll have lost my chance to make things right."
"If she doesn't wake up, I'll have something else to say sorry to Aerys and Rhaella when I meet them...I never made peace with my brother, not really. He trusted tradition, I didn't, he thought his will and convenience was better than the independent achievements of our family members. It never surprised me that Leandra eloped, especially with some apostate. Aristide apparently died of a wasting calling out for her, my older brother and I never even wrote to him. As for my son, I was harsher on him than I should have been, Maker he made me so proud that day.
"My son, whom defended Ironborn of all people, whom defended them from supposedly noble Stark and Baratheon men. He fought with just one man to support him!"
"One man?" Vincent raised his eyebrows in confusion.
"Oh yes, it's strange actually, it was only recently I recalled the reports. There was another with him that day, whom fought beside him briefly before fleeing. Still, at least someone stood with him, for however brief it was," James explained.
The door suddenly opened and Vincent stood, watching the robed man walk over to Pyat. They whispered amongst themselves before Pyat nodded and looked to James and Vincent.
"It is worse than originally feared, the girl is trapped, deep within the most deepest part of the fade. A place I suspect even the one whom created the Veil has no real knowledge of," Pyat explained.
"The one whom created the Veil?" Vincent scoffed.
"Many joke of our use of 'shade of the evening'," Pyat said.
"They aren't jokes, they have rotted and blued your teeth Pyat," James snapped.
"But drink it often enough and one does see and heart truths, which I suspect is why you brought Daenerys Targaryen here Fausten Amell, because you knew out of all the would be Maegi in this part of the world, we would be the only ones capable of helping you save her," Pyat explained.
"Yes," the Marcher dropped the facade and brought his hands to his hips. "The Princess's life is in your hands, I know your own intentions for her, but remember the debt, and what happens to those whom cross me!"
Pyat bowed his head and clicked his fingers. A dwarf servitor came out of one of the doors, carrying a slender crystal glass. It was filled with a blue liquid, 'shade of the evening', made from the blue leaves of the black barked trees that grew around the House of the Undying.
"Once, when magic filled this land, this place had a 'tear' of sorts in the Veil, it's why we set our home here, why we planted and grew the trees here. For along with the blue shade you see before you, even those of us not born to magic could connect briefly to the Fade, and have the smallest taste of magic," Pyat explained, taking the glass from the dwarf.
Vincent walked towards Pyat, taking the glass from him.
"What must I do to save my sister?" he asked.
"Your can be an anchor for your sister to return with, but be warned, she may already be dead. And if she dies in the Void, all that she was will be erased, even the very memory of her will be gone from your mind," the warlock explained.
"Whatever it takes to help her," Vincent said.
He tilted the contents of the glass down his throat, feeling Fausten's hands on his shoulders.
"I've taken the shade before Viserys, it will show you things, truths that may hurt you," he said.
"Then it is a good thing my hand will be there to guide me," the Targaryen smiled.
Fausten took the glass offered to him and drank. He gagged slightly when the blue fluid went down.
"Now, follow my directions carefully, you don't want to get lost here," Pyat said as he presented the two men with a doorway.
King's landing
Aristanna could only half heartedly play her flute that day, only tell a half way decent story the day after. Joffrey threatened to have her whipped for being boring, even his mother didn't oblige him the stupidity of his statement. Aristanna sat in the gardens and thought of the man she had seen in her dreams for so many nights now. She knew her long lost Cousin, perhaps better than his own companions. Knew the torment of the dreams he had, no, the nightmares of the Blight. And when he wasn't dreaming of them, he dreamt of his own self doubt. 'Am I a hero?' 'Am I good enough?' 'Is this decision right? Is that decision right?' So many things weighed on his mind and Aristanna felt like reaching out and embracing him. To have so much anxiety and self doubt, yet to still try anyway was something truly special. She understood better than Revka why such a term could be applied to her oldest son now.
'Daylen, now I truly want to meet you, but who knows now if I'll be able to meet you, please, don't die!' Aristanna hugged her flute as she shed a few tears.
"Ari, is everything all right?"
Aristanna opened her eyes and looked to her right. Around the bushes was the Princess Myrcella Baratheon, accompanied by Arys Oakheart and a couple of Lannister guards.
"Princess Myrcella, forgive me my mind was elsewhere," Aristanna said.
"It is all right, may I ask what is wrong?"
"I have been having dreams of late," Aristanna used the excuse she conjured, if she told the truth people may grow wary of her, or knowing people's thoughts on magic in Westeros they'd think her mad.
Part of her wanted to believe the latter, but each time the dreams became more vivid. Myrcella sat beside Aristanna and basked in the sight of the flowers around them, waiting for Aristanna to continue.
"Once I dreamed of the day my father died, his stand, I'm sure it was a romantic illusion, but I dreamt that someone helped him," she said.
"Someone did help him, briefly, you know, mother always said that Damion was foolish. But I don't think he was, I think he was the bravest knight in Westeros that day. Father admired him," Myrcella smiled as she spoke.
"I saw the man help him, I would like to meet him, to thank him for being there with my father in the end," Aristanna shared her friend's smile.
"Do you think he may be dead now?" Myrcella asked.
"I hope not, I can only hope not," Aristanna said.
"You know Ari, next time you dream, you should try calling out to him, that man who helped your father. At least in your dreams, you'd be able to thank him," Myrcella explained.
The idea made Aristanna think, such a thing could be possible. For she had a power that many feared. What the Tevinter called Somniari, she was a dreamer. But do the nature of the Veil in Westeros, no demon could approach her in her dreams. Yet again and again she was drawn to the life of her cousin, perhaps because he was often in all their family's thoughts.
'Even so far away my cousin, you are loved,' she thought.
"You are truly wise princess, thank you," she bowed her head and hugged Myrcella.
"I will always be glad to help, as I know you will always be ready to help me my friend," the princess said.
Aristanna parted with Myrcella and ran, ran through the corridors of the red keep to her quarters. And she dozed, dozed and put herself into a sleep.
Viserys walked through the halls of the House of the Undying. He was told that in the Long hall, he would see six visions through the door. Carefully he advanced, not wanting to look, but seeing those visions nonetheless. Fausten was right beside him, no doubt seeing visions of his own.
When Viserys came to the first door he stood on an island, and saw fleets of ships sailing across the water. There were so many that it was difficult to see. But he was drawn to the Heraldry set on the sails of the head ships. One ship showed a white and yellow shield, with two dogs on it. Another was a black flag with two red birds, their talons joined as one. One of the largest of the ships, grand in its structure had the symbol of a gold mask on the sail. A second had a crowned black skull with a flower on it. Another had a green sail, with a worm shaped black dragon on it, a smaller black snake was set over the dragon. The largest ship of all had a yellow starburst symbol on it, many of the ships beside it heraldry of a flaming sword. Finally, Visery's eyes were drawn to the smallest of the ships, a blue sail with a silver griffin on it. He looked at where they were going and saw a city he had nearly forgotten from his childhood, King's landing.
Viserys yearned to see home, and he wept slightly, that a vision gave him such a thing. Almost immediately, as if losing all control of his body he came to the second door. He immediately retreated, but the door was not there. He wanted to escape the bloodshed he saw. Monsters, he could only describe them as pale skinned monsters, slaughtering men in their path. Snow crunched beneath Viserys's feet and he looked through the snow. He caught sight of a silver blade, similar in design to Fausten's. The Knight who wielded it wore a blue coat over his silver armour, his face covered by his helmet. But Viserys's could see the red eye glowing through the hole of the helm. The knight turned, revealing behind him a red haired youth in a heavy fur cloak. He wore a crown atop his head, made of bronze, surmounted by black iron spikes. Across from him, resting his sword with the tip at the ground was a dark haired youth in black, his sword of Valyrian steel had a white wolf's head on the pommel. And there was a fourth amongst the group, a girl holding a rapier.
Having no idea how to react to this vision, Viserys again retreated, and stumbled out of the door, and straight into the next one. The third door was red, and Viserys found himself inside the house he and Daenerys once lived in. They were not in sight though, instead, Viserys saw Willem Darry, Master at arms of the Red Keep (formerly of course) and for a time their guardian. They stood with two more men, one of whom Viserys recognised for his Dornish features.
"Then it is agreed, the prince and the princess will marry?" Willem asked.
"Yes, so long as my niece becomes queen, and so long as we can take our revenge, then Dorne will join you," the Dornish man said.
He was pushed out of the door, and through into the forth. Viserys landed on a stone floor, and looked up at the skull of a dragon. Rolling to his feet, he gasped in awe. Again, a sight he did not think he would see. It was the throne room of the Red keep, where the famous throne was set.
"I'm home," Viserys whispered.
"They are sacking the city my king!"
Viserys looked towards where the voices came from. He looked at a man in a crown, nails long and sharp, body frail and beard dirty.
"Father," he said.
Aerys was flanked by a member of the Kings guard, dressed in the white armour, with custom pieces of gold in it. Jaime Lannister.
"Surrender, save the city and Rhaegar's family at least," the Lannister said.
"And what, accept the axe? Live out my days as a prisoner, a hostage king of those Baratheon brutes and your traitorous father. No, the traitors want my city," Aerys squeezed his hand into a fist.
"But I'll give them naught but ashes, let Robert be the king over charred bones and cooked meat, let them burn in the wild fire," he whispered.
"What?" Jamie looked at the king in shock and confusion.
A smirk spread across Aerys's face as he turned to the king's guard.
"Wild fire, Rossart placed caches of it in the catacombs, beneath the sept, underneath the streets and the red keep itself. A final contingency should enemies of the dragon try to take what is ours. They're all here, we will protect the Targaryan dynasty and end their pitiful rebellion," Aerys explained.
"Your grace," Jamie struggled to speak, like Viserys he struggled to comprehend the man's twisted logic.
"You are a member of the kingsguard, before the day is done, bring me your father's head," the king said. "Rossart, burn them all, burn them in their beds, burn them in their homes."
Viserys looked at his father in horror, and shook his head in denial.
"No, you can't mean it..."
"Burn them all," Aerys whispered.
"Our kingdom, our people," Viserys said.
"Burn them all!"
He saw the look in his father's eyes, the aggression, the lust for the fire. The way he whispered the words too told Viserys that he was anxious, desperate to see the flames. Jaime suddenly drew his sword, slashing through Rossart's neck. Aerys turned to run, and the sword slid through his back. The kings guard member seemed shocked, much like Aerys. Viserys stepped away and looked down at his father as he slid off of the blade.
"Burn them all," he kept saying.
The Lannister grabbed the king by his head and lifted the blade to his neck.
"FATHER!" Viserys screamed.
Just as the king's throat was slit, Viserys was thrown from the room. He wept and screamed, and with equal anger and grief, he moved forward. All of that pain, and it was just the fourth door.
Fausten walked through four doors himself, but he faced those visions with a null feeling. He saw the first time Leandra Amell met Malcolm Hawke. In the second door, he saw the day he made love to Rhaella and fathered their bastard son. In the vague vision of the third door, he was shown a chimera leading a pack of lions, feasting on stags. And in the forth, he too was exposed to the death of Aerys Targaryen, but he knew of those events already. Then, in a fifth door was a vision he clung to, for it was what he always wanted to see.
A young man in blue robes of the Ferelden circle. Brown haired, tanned skin, and a burnt arm. He was fighting a blonde haired man, an appendage of blood had sprouted from the man's shoulder. Fausten looked at the boy in blue and knew, this was his grandson.
Daylen snarled, pouring Earth magic into the blood arm. Suddenly, Leo's new appendage exploded, coating Leo and Daylen in blood. The blood mage yelled in agony as he fell back, clutching the hole in his shoulder. His eyes widened in pure horror as Daylen began walking towards him. Leo tried to punch Daylen across the face. But Daylen grabbed his arm, and ice suddenly covered Leo's wrist.
"Oh maker," Leo gasped.
Fire then charged Daylen's fist as he punched Leo across the face, throwing him back. Leo's burnt skin fell off, revealing a hide that resembled a Pride demon. He shook his head in utter denial, this wasn't supposed to happen, not to him. He was a prince, the son of a lion and a stag. That witch had promised him he would escape, that he would return and reclaim his destiny.
"You killed me," Daylen whispered, catching Leo's attention
He stepped back, terrified of this demon that Daylen had become.
"She died to keep me alive, if I die," Daylen's voice was strained, his eyes suddenly drifting to the floor.
Leo grinned, Daylen was still weak. He took a step forward, only to feel an intense pressure emanating from the half dead mage.
"If I die she'll have died for nothing," he snapped, waving his arm angrily.
"And I won't have that! Do you hear me? I WONT HAVE THAT!" Daylen yelled.
He raised his arm, light gathering into it until suddenly, a blade took shape. A mana blade, bigger and more intense than the one Leo had created.
'No,' Leo gasped in realisation. 'That blade, is more powerful than what even a trained Knight-Enchanter could make!'
Daylen pointed the blade at Leo, forcing him to take another step towards the wall.
"NO! NO! NO! NO!" Leo screamed.
The skin on his hands turned to scales and partially expanded. Horns grew out of the back of his head and his teeth sharpened into fangs, two small eyes appeared on the right side of his scaly face.
"I am destined to be a king, I am willing to sacrifice anything, and anyone to achieve my destiny. To crush the weak under foot, because the way of the world. It is just how it is," his voice was demonic, but still carried the desperation and delusions of a man who was so sure that he was right.
Electricity and mana gathered in his hands and he thrust them forward. Daylen braced his legs and held his mana sword out. The electricity clashed with his blade and the force that Leo summoned grinded against it, threatening to push Daylen back. But still he held firm, his sword shining brighter as he began to push forward with his arm. Gritting his teeth together, arm shaking, mana bursting from his body, Daylen released a roar. The electricity deflected from the blade, right across Leo's body, setting parts of it alight. He screamed, and the wave he had thrown at Daylen, was thrown back into him. The bricks behind him shattered, and the air hit his back. It was still a steep drop towards the lake, one that would break a human body.
Leo looked towards Daylen. The young man stood, holding his mana blade up. Leo shook his head, a final act of begging. The blade grew longed and shined brighter as Daylen brought it down. He yelled in fury and Leo screamed, the blade cutting a line over his chest, blood spraying from the wound.
"NO! NO! I AM A BARAAAAGH!"Leo screamed as he fell from the tower, straight towards the lake.
As the ripple from the splash faded, the mana sword disappeared. Daylen stumbled back, his arms going limp as the templars awoke from unconsciousness. His breathing got heavier and his vision began to blur.
"I did it uncle Damion, Neria, I beat the monster, just like a hero would," he whispered.
Fausten felt true pride, seeing his grandson overcome an obstacle in his past. He hoped that the House of the Undying would give him more opportunities to see the man his grandson had become.
Next Chapter 17: Into the Void
Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, the Void was my idea of everything bad about the Fade, but much, much worse. Next time, Daylen's companions react to his continued slumber and the Grey Warden works on a way to chase after Connor.