ASOIAF: Dimensional Chat Group

Westeros, King's Landing

The Red Keep

107 AC

"Fucking glass candles." Daemon snarls as he stabs Dark Sister through the throat of an attacking knight; the knight a vocal supporter of Otto and House Hightower

Not far from him Aemon grunts in agreement while grabbing a knight by the throat, lifting him off the ground and smacking his head on the wall, knocking him unconscious. 

They have been at this for near an hour, marching through the Red Keep and knocking out, or killing in the case of House Hightower's supporters, any of those affected by the glass candles. An hour and still they have not gone beyond the Red Keep. Were it not for The Wild Hunt personally seeing to those in the city Aemon would worry for the population. Still, between Reina's wolves, Dairic's fey, and his Unseelie Commanders Aemon is confident that the people of King's Landing are in competent hands. His duty is to see to the purging of the Red Keep while also figuring out what the Triarchy's purpose is by launching such an assault. 

As they turn the corner, Aemon and Daemon are met with the sight of Rellana standing protectively before Rhaenyra with a pile of bodies at her feet, some breathing and others not. Not far from them is Criston Cole who seems to have been injured for he favors his left leg while also tenderly cradling his right arm to his body. At first glance Aemon can already tell that the arm is broken. 

"Uncle!" Rhaenyra calls out in High Valyrian as she comes out from behind Rellana and races towards Daemon, enveloping him in a hug before he can reply. 

"Niece, it is good to see you well." says Daemon as he returns the hug, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as Rellana and Ser Criston.

"She is a loyal knight of mine." says Aemon from behind Daemon, earning a nod from the man before he turns his eyes to Ser Criston.

"What is going on? Why have the people turned mad? Even the servants have attacked." asks Rhaenyra. 

While the princess and Daemon converse, Aemon turns his attention to Rellana as she approaches him. 

"Your Majesty." she greets with a bow, her voice sounding musical as she speaks the tongue of the Unseelie, earning a raised eyebrow from Aemon. 

"I see that you continue to refuse to call me Lord Commander." notes Aemon the language of the Unseely feeling foreign to his tongue despite having become fluid in it through Queen Mab's ritual. 

"You are my King, you have earned the crown as any Unseelie should; through the slaughter and submission of your enemies. To call you otherwise would besmirch the honor of those challengers, for they too upheld the spirit of the Unseelie Throne through their challenge." replies Rellana.

"Very well." nods Aemon before changing the subject. "Well? What do you think?" he asks, causing Rellana to briefly glance at Rhaenyra.

"There is potential there." she says. "The magic in her is strong. Stronger than even her uncle, and had I not known him to be a man I would believe him to be a half-fae. It seems that your conjecture is correct, the focal point of your patriarchal house's magic lies within its women." says Rellana. 

Other than protecting and possibly training Rhaenyra, Aemon had assigned one more task to her; to find out whether or not the theory of House Targaryen's magic lying within its women held true. While Rellana is a well established knight, she is first and foremost a daughter of House Lucaria, the Unseelie Court's foremost expert on the higher mysteries. An impressive feat considering that the fey as a whole are a fantasmal species, a species which cannot exist without magic. 

"Does that mean that an event such as the Dance of Dragons can stunt or cripple the magic in the bloodline?"Aemon asks. 

"From the information you have given me based on Valyria's history, it is almost certain that such an event would cripple the magic in House Targaryen's blood. Especially if your conjecture of the Valyrians being descended from the Bloodstone Emperor and the Amethyst Empress is the truth." she explains, causing Aemon to frown. 

Before he can voice his thoughts however, they are interrupted by Daemon. 

"I shall see Rhaenyra to safety while also securing the King, continue to put down this madness in the Red Keep." commands Daemon. 

"Rellana shall follow you." replies Aemon before turning to said knight "Protect them and unless you perceive Daemon's commands to be detrimental, follow them as if they are mine own." he says.

With a bow she proceeds to follow his command. 

"What about Ser Criston?" asks Rhaenyra with a frown as she worrily bites her lip. The call of his name causes the knight to look at the princess appreciatively 

"He is naught but dead weight in his current condition. Leave him here with me and I will guide him from the madness." says Aemon. 

Ser Criston hesitantly looks at Aemon for a second before opening his mouth, "Listen to the bastard, princess. Yours and the King's safety is paramount." he says, though Daemon and Rellana silently note that his voice is unnaturally shaky, as if the words his mouth speaks are not the ones he had in mind. 

Rellana quickly looks towards Aemon only to barely catch his eyes going from milky white to their amethyst color. Without hesitating, Rellana turns away from Aemon as if she had not seen anything. 

Hearing Ser Criston's words, Rhaenyra can only nod at him before she is dragged away by Daemon. 

"Come along, princess. We must see to you and your father's safety." says the Rogue Prince as they walk away, Rellana following closely behind, leaving Ser Criston alone with Aemon. 

"This is the perfect opportunity to be rid of him." a voice tells Aemon, causing him to look to his side. Rather than the Other, he finds himself staring at Theon "The Hungry Wolf"

"Slay him now and you save yourself much trouble." says Theon, his features grim as he stares at Ser Criston Cole while he struggles to remain standing. "Your histories have proven him to be an unloyal cur, a petty self-important man with more rage than sense, and an ambitious Kingmaker. Remove him now and save your house much trouble in the future." he adds, shocking Aemon. 

Not only did he not expect his ancestors to separate from the collective outside of his dreams, but he certainly did not expect "The Hungry Wolf" himself to provide advice that did not favor House Stark above all else. 

"The Hungry Wolf speaks true." says another voice from Aemon's left. 

"And which of my ancestors might you be?" asks Aemon as he looks at the handsome visage before him. The man possesses the typical feature of a Stark, long face, dark hair, and grey eyes that border on silver. Still he is handsome enough that Aemon wagers he could be placed on the same level as the likes of Loras Tyrell, yet he does not recall any Stark being spoken of in such a way. 

"Oh, you know me well, descendant of mine." says the Stark ancestor as his visage flashes to a bloody one before turning back. 

"Bloody Blade." says Aemon, earning a smirk from said ancestor. 

"Good lad." says Bloody Blade before he turns back to Ser Criston. "Kill the Kingmaker and be done with it." advises Brandon.

"Hmmm." hums Aemon in thought as he regards Ser Criston with a narrowed eye.

By now the knight has long sensed that something is amiss and has taken a defence stance before Aemon. He makes to speak multiple times only for his throat to fail him, the slight indent near his adam's apple suggests he received a debilitating blow to his throat. 

Thinking on their words, Aemon finds that they speak true. To be rid of Cole now would save them much trouble, however he personally thinks that it would be a waste to not profit more from the idiot's death. It would be best to use him in order to incriminate the Greens in some way shape or form, but the question is how, and which of the Greens. 

"What do you think, Alflyse?" asks Aemon, seemingly speaking to the air. However, not long after Aemon utters the name, his shadow stretches out behind him as the masked woman rises from it. Her appearance causes Ser Criston to drop his sword and his eyes to widen 

"How would I best profit from this would be Kingmaker's death?" he asks once more, continuing to ignore Cole as he stumbles on a corpse and nearly impales himself on his fallen sword; an act that makes The Hungry Wolf and the Bloody Blade chuckle.

"Use him to incriminate a crucial member of the Greens. Perhaps, Ser Otto?" suggests Alflyse.

"Aye, we are of the same mind, you and I. Otto's removal from the position of Hand now would cripple the Greens' cause in the crib." Aemon says as Ser Criston stumbles to his feet and lunges at Aemon. 

He does not make it far as one of the Black Knives emerges from Aemon's shadow and knocks him out.

"We can plant a letter on him alluding to Ser Otto working with Ser Crayne and Lady Royce to hide Prince Daemon's children from him. Ser Otto's handwriting would not be difficult to forge." suggests Alflyse.

"Aye." nods Aemon "Then we have Crayne confess to the act while also admitting to betraying Ser Otto for the Triarchy's coin." he adds.

And to wrap it all in a nice bow we suggest to Viserys, using this attack and the "collected" proof, that the Citadel possesses too much power and that House Targaryen can no longer rely on the goodwill of its institution or it bannermen and that they must train their own institutions. A Citadel loyal only to House Targaryen, trained soldiers loyal only to them, and a force of magic practitioners loyal to them to combat the threat of the Triarchy and the sorcerers that congregate in Asshai. 

"A plot worthy of a direwolf." says Theon, bringing Aemon out of his thoughts.

"Aye, it seems that House Stark will be in good hands with this one, even if he is also from the house of sister fuckers and slavemasters." agrees Brandon. 

"Former, slave masters." stresses Aemon, earning a scoff from Brandon before the shade disappears. 

Seeing Theon remain despite the decision being made, Aemon cannot help but ask "Do you have more to say?"

"Aye, what are your plans for those cold, stone, and false god worshippers?" asks the Hungry Wolf with a sneer. 

"Oh, nothing much." replies Aemon with a bloodthirsty grin "I merely plan to tear their religion down brick by brick before rebuilding it as a pillar to raise House Targaryen further." 

"Eh." chuckles Theon before exploding into laughter that quickly turns into a cackle as he disappears. 

 "Your ancestors would have made for powerful members of the Unseelie Court. With such ancestors going as far back as 8000 years it is no wonder that such a bloodline has produced one as great as His Majesty." says one of the Black Knives as a dozen of them emerge from Aemon's shadow and kneel before him.

"The Shadows serve at His Majesty's pleasure." they say as one.

"Take him to his chambers and kill him there. Make it seem as if he succumbed to his injuries despite my having treated him with preliminary first aid. When you are finished, plant an incriminating letter from Ser Otto to Lady Royce alluding to his involvement with her and Ser Crayne's treachery. Perhaps have him question how Prince Daemon came to know of the children's existence and why it seems as if Ser Crayne betrayed them to the Triarchy." suggests Aemon.

"As you command." replies the Black Knives as they stand. 

"Oh, and make sure that Ser Criston suffers." adds Aemon as he begins to walk away, his cold blue eye briefly glowing with hatred and satisfaction before it is replaced with a steely resolve. 

Not far behind him, Alflyse sinks back into his shadow.

…

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Westeros, King's Landing

107 AC 

Overlooking the chaos that has overtaken the capital city of their liege lord's patriarchal family's kingdom, the four Unseelie fey commanders cannot help the disdain they feel. 

"Madness." says Caleb with a frown. 

As leader of the Winter Court's castle guards he understands the difficulty of keeping order in one's domain, especially in a martial and mercurial place like the Unseelie Court. As such he can understand the plight of the City Watch members who have successfully overcome the control of the glass candle; however, that does not excuse their incompetence in his eyes. 

"You say madness, I say weakness." says Eredin, a sneer making its way onto his handsome visage. 

Despite what many may assume due to his strong stature and fearsome armor, Eredin is easily one of the most handsome amongst the fey, bordering on pretty. Still, his armor is not misleading when it comes to his character, he is a fearsome character worthy of the moniker of savage even in a culture as brutal as the Unseelie Court. He would find himself to be well at home with the ancient Red Kings of the North and would even put most of them to shame with his cruelty and savagery. However, there is an intelligence and cunning to his cruelty that many fail to notice, and many times that failure ends up being their downfall. 

"Do not judge them on the standards of our Court, for they are merely humans." adds the third fey, Algrim, commander of the Knights of Winter. 

He possesses a handsome face as all fey do, though his possesses the signs of a middle aged man; which is not surprising considering his age. 

Algrim is easily one of the eldest fey still living, having been alive prior to the founding of the Seelie or Unseelie Court. He has seen the rise and fall of many pantheons, participated in many an inter-pantheonic war, and has even intermingled with humanity to such an extent that he can vividly recall and recount encountering many of their greatest heroes. Cu Chulainn, Diarmuid, and Fionn to name a few. The era of his youth is one where pantheons intermingled and waged war against one another, whether through human proxies or personally. As such he possesses the greatest insight and perspective in the entire Unseelie Court.

"You say such things, but even you must admit that they are a pitiful bunch even by human standards. The Red Branch Knights were more impressive than these lot; completely undone by a low class magical tool used by a charlatan." argues Eredin.

Algrim makes to claim that the Red Branch Knights were elites even by supernatural standards only to think better of it. Eredin is hardly ever swayed by anyone other than his superior, and even that is a rarity. 

"Whatever the case, this has gone long enough. It is about time for us to intercede." says Caleb. "His Majesty wants order reinstated before the sun sets this night. No bloodshed, no deaths, no maiming, and no crippling." He adds while glaring at Eredin, only for said fey to grunt as places his helm on his head and enters the fray, knocking out any under the glass candle's spell; Caleb following close behind.

"Youth." whispers Algrim to himself with a slight smile as he brings up the rear.

…

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Westeros, Oldtown

107 AC

Oldtown is a city located on the Whispering Sound on the southwestern coast of the Reach. It was constructed around the Hightower, the seat of House Hightower on Battle Isle. It is home to The Citadel, home to the maesters and the Conclave, and the Starry Sept, the seat of the High Septon and home to the Faith of the Seven. 

Built by the First Men before the coming of the Andals, it is the largest and richest city in the Seven Kingdoms. 

Whereas King's Landing has evidently grown with no plan or control, Oldtown is clearly a city whose expansion was thoroughly planned and executed. With orderly streets and districts, uniform architecture, and lacking in repugnant odor. 

As the citizens of Oldtown go about their day, they do not notice the two teams of shadowy figures that sneak through their city. Despite the sun being at its apex, they traverse the city as if it were nighttime, unnoticed by all. 

Soon they reach their destination, The Citadel. Slipping in and journeying its arching stone bridges, streets, and halls before finally reaching their destination, a secret room located on the Isle of Ravens. 

The Isle of Raven is linked to the eastern bank of the Honeywine by a weathered wooden drawbridge. It is where the Ravenry, the oldest building of The Citadel, is located. 

The walls of the Ravenry are covered in moss and vines, and within its yard sits a weirwood tree on which the ravens like to perch. Along with the weirwoods in Winterfell, the Isle of Faces, and the Nightfort, it is one of the oldest weirwoods on the planet. 

However, none of this is what interests the two teams of shadows that snuck in. Rather, they are more interested in the secret vault within the Ravenry that houses many of the secrets that The Conclave have deemed forbidden knowledge. 

As they sneak into the secret vault they easily find their target, a figure shrouded in a crimson cloak peering into a glass candle. With little fanfare, the Black Knives immobilize the sorcerer with one member placing his palm on the his hairless scalp while muttering a string of unintelligible words in the Unseelie tongue that causes the sorcerer to scream his throat raw before falling over dead, blood slipping from all his orifices.

"It is done." says the leader before the group slips out of the city as quietly as they entered, leaving Oldtown in as much chaos as King's Landing.

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