The Dragon Ascendant: NO SV: Welcome To Another Viserys Targaryen Quest (A Ck2 Quest)

Trouble in Gulltown Part 2

-[X]Make no decision: Something is not adding up, and you need more time. (You Wait. Something does not add up. And you do not want to make things messy)
-[X]No: "I don't believe in things like Destiny. It takes away from the choices we make, and the ability to shape our own lives."
-[X]To Sansa: No one was with Sansa when she went to the Sept, not even protected by the guards of the keep. She might already be hurt or worse!

Immediately you grabbed Storm Breaker and the two brothers followed each other out of the room, clearly trying to keep up from the Frantic energy that was slowly seeping into the halls as you followed the Shatterpoints.

The three choices that were in front of you, to your wife, the hosts, and Sansa were in front of you, but without a single moment of hesitation, you ran towards the Sept, and to Sansa. There was no time to argue, no time to think, now was the time to act and act now.

Now logically you would go to your Wife and son so they can be safe and protected…but you weren't thinking logically at this point and understood the risk.

Realistically your wife would be able to hold her own for a time, she had Arys with her and while she was pregnant, you knew she had enough training to keep herself alive to at least escape. You hoped.

You were without armor, but there was little time, and both men behind you only had their swords. You keep moving and moving fast, almost too fast to hear Aegon's protests. "What About Arianne?"

"She is with Ser Arys, she'll be fine!" You proclaimed as you continued to move quickly through the halls, barely even breathing as you felt fire in your veins. For a moment you believed it was your anger, your rage clouding your judgment. But then you looked back to Aegon and realized something…

You were waking the dragon. Something you had not done in a long time. Not since Euron. You were strong, committed to the task at hand, and would never back down from it even if it cost you everything.

Jon spoke another word. "Your Grace, why-"

"I can't let Lord Stark find out his daughter was murdered!" You said as you reached the sept door, the door was shut and you looked at the door. You tried to open it, but instead, it did not budge. "Help me open it!" you shouted.

You could hear screams from out in the Castle, as men and women and children screamed for help, for anything as inhuman screams began drowning them out. "Dammit!" You shouted as Aegon joined you, slamming his shoulder into the door as well. "Open you Fuck!" Shouting as a man possessed.

Jon then joined in and the door shattered and cracked. The wood was splintering and breaking before it gave way, and the candlelight of the sept was flickering with black flames that were shaped by darkness.

Sansa was waiting, along with another figure… or was it two? The shadows did not give anything away to make things visible, and despite your shattered point, there was something evil in this place. That even the Gods could not help protect you from.

"Sansa!" Jon shouted as he heard her whimper and cry from across the room.

"Lord Snow." The voice said with a clicking tone that sounded like it was covering something. "And his grace?" the voice replied before it saw Aegon. "With Rhaegar's child as well… My My, I might not even need to raze this city to get what I need. You bring them towards me?"

"What the seven hells are you?" Aegon swore before he was grabbed by shadows from the dark pulling him into the darkness.

"Uh uh uh, my young prince, we are in a place of the Gods. No need for Blasphemy." The voice said, mockingly, as a pale ghostly hand went through the hair of Sansa, and she smelled it. "My, Gooseberries? Decadent for a young lady of the North, and a blood of the Starks and Tully's? A strange mixture of andel and Old Man?" The hand wiped away the tears that Sansa was crying. "Oh do not cry dear, nothing will befall you. Yet."

"Get away from her." Jon stepped forward.

"And what are you going to do nameless one? Try to free her with your sword. Many have tried doing that, even the great Duncan the Tall. Yet all I see is a nameless boy, without hope."

"Let her go." Jon said before the shadows took him too.

"Finally, some privacy, your Grace." The voice said, and you could finally make out the shape in the darkness, a woman's shape. And a face that felt familiar.

"Where are they?" You demanded.

"Dealing with my thralls outside the walls. Broken things, not unlike many of the men Aegon has killed before. They were once knights and Hill tribesmen of the Vale… no longer." She cackled as her hands clawed at Sansa's face, letting out a scratch that allowed a drop of blood to touch her fingers. "So much power in blood so weak. In a body so frail."

"Sansa, look at me, you're going to be alright." You stated as Stormbreaker was drawn from its scabbard.

"Do not lie to the girl, Your Grace, it won't help her." the voice replied, the woman finally came into a semblance of candlelight. She was pale as bone and dead, fingers were longer and boney like sticks or twigs. Her hair was black as night, raven black, and from her arm, she was wearing some type of dress. A black dress covered in white. Ash and oak, cinders and bone.

And her nails were sharp as razors. "Come now, step closer."

You did, sword ready, as you saw the moonlight shine in through the window, finally illuminating the woman's face. "Ah, a sense of drama is always needed young Targaryen."

"What are you?" You whispered, yet the woman's claws seemed to go towards the neck of Sansa Stark.

The Little girl was shaking in the hands of a monster, and it was almost too much for her to remain conscious, fear overtaking her

"My my, such words, to speak to your family." She said as she stepped forward, tripping and holding Sansa onto her feet, choking her, toying with her, as if she was being careful not to kill her.

Investigation roll: D100 + 30 => 38

"No." You swore. It was impossible but you thought you could. It was like staring into the past. A window of things that were impossible to unsee.

Yet you could not.

"Than I shall grant you but a single question." She smiled. "Prepare to die Viserys. Westeros is no longer for the living to control. It is for the dead."

What do you say to her?:
[]Write in

What do you do to fight her:

[]Magical Steel: You have a blade of Valyrian Steel, you are going to destroy that monster.

[]Dragonborn: Ebrion, you hope to dear seven gods you would hear this. "Ebrion!" You were going to spend so much money repairing the Keep!

[]Removing the Limb with Grace and Power: Throwing your blade is wreckless stupid, and dangerous. But you have no choice.
[]A Song of Ice and Fire: You felt the power, between you, Sansa… and all around. The Nexus of the world, like always, was breaking down, before something magical happened. "No… Burn!"

AN: Enjoy, and please vote in plan format.

Trouble in Gulltown Finale:

"Then I shall grant you but a single question," she said, her smile a cruel crescent against the darkness. "Prepare to die, Viserys. Westeros is no longer for the living to control. It is for the dead."

Her voice echoed, carrying the weight of inevitability, a dirge for all you once knew.

But something stirred, a sensation beyond comprehension, that you had felt before. You could feel it: a crackling energy weaving through the air like threads pulled taut. The shatterpoints of the world, faint but visible to those who knew where to look, bent and bowed under the weight of an ancient, growing power. It was more than magic; it was a force that defied definition. and it was yours to command.

Between you, Sansa, and the encroaching void, it swirled. The nexus of the world, fragile, fracturing, threatened to collapse. Yet, even in its decay, something new was emerging, primal and incandescent.

The shade, the Lady of Darkness herself, loomed like an eclipse, cradling the terrified young girl in her arms. The girl's trembling ceased, her pale face glistening with unshed tears as the shade smiled down at her, a predator delighting in her prey's despair.

"What will you say?" the shade demanded, her voice reverberating like a challenge across the void.

You stood firm, your heartbeat steady as the realization crystallized. You would not ask a question. You would not plead, bargain, or falter. There was nothing to ask when you had already learned the answer, long ago, in the alleys of Braavos.

The shade cocked her head, waiting. Her patience was that of the dead, endless, unyielding.

"What do you say to the God of Death?" you asked, your voice cutting through the air like steel through flesh.

The shade's form flickered, the dark mist around her swirling faster as if agitated. "What do you say?" she parroted, mockery dripping from her tone. Her empty gaze locked on yours, unblinking. "Tell me, King… what do you say?"

"Not today," you said, your voice steady and unshaken.

The flames within you flickered, a fragile spark kindled into a roaring blaze. It was as if the essence of Valyria, the First Men, even the Andals, surged in your veins, the fire of your ancestors answering your call.

The shade's smile faltered as she felt the change. Sansa's wide eyes glistened with fear but began to soften as warmth surrounded her. She gasped, her breath hitching as the iron grip around her loosened. The shadow holding her dissipated like smoke scattered by the wind.

The air thickened with heat, and your voice rose, carrying the will of a king reclaiming his domain once again.

You remembered one thing, that you were. Not just the King of Westeros.

"Burn!"

The flames erupted, consuming the darkness, the shade, and all her power. The air roared with defiance, the fire clawing through the void, leaving no shadow untouched.

Sansa ran toward you, her steps faltering with exhaustion but unrelenting in their urgency. Freed from the grasp of her captor, she threw herself into your arms, her sobs muffled against your chest. You held her tightly, feeling the heat of the fire still coursing through you, as though it burned away not just the shade but the weight of despair itself.

"It's okay, Sansa… it's okay," you whispered, your voice steady, though your heart threatened to break under the enormity of what had just transpired. She clung to you, her tears soaking through your tunic, until her cries softened and her trembling subsided.

The world slowed in those moments, the crackling embers and fading smoke of battle giving way to the low murmurs of those gathered around.

---

Later, at the sept, your court and riders assembled under the oppressive weight of silence. You stood before the remnants of the shade, nothing more than a pile of ash, dark as pitch, and a black dress that lay eerily intact.

"Fuck," you muttered, the word slipping out with raw frustration. All eyes turned to you, then back to the unsettling sight before them.

Outside, you could hear the low rumble of dragon fire and the distant calls of Dany and Arianne as they kept watch. Despite the gravity of the situation, a small part of you found solace in the simple weight of Daeron, sleeping soundly in your arms. His peaceful face, unburdened by fear or doubt, reminded you of a world you were fighting to preserve, a world where children could dream without nightmares.

Oberyn paced, his usual charm subdued, replaced by a tension that betrayed his unease. His sharp eyes flicked between the ashes and the fabric, as though searching for answers that refused to reveal themselves.

Jon and Aegon sat nearby, their faces grim and their postures tense. Neither spoke, each lost in his own thoughts, but their silence carried the same question that hung in the air: What now?

At least Sansa had found rest. She lay curled on a bench, her breathing steady, her face serene. The sheer number of protectors around her seemed to have granted her some sense of safety, enough for sleep to claim her at last.

"She said she was family," you murmured, breaking the silence. The words tasted strange, bitter, as if they didn't belong.

Barristan Selmy stepped forward, his white cloak brushing the stone floor. "We can always return to King's Landing, consult the family tree. There may be some truth to her claim, though it's certain to provoke questions from the lords. Abandoning your progress now, when it has only just begun, will not go unnoticed."

"You can't just say you saw a ghost and fled home," Mandon interjected with a skeptical scoff. "Even I can hardly believe this—"

"Oh, shut up, Mandon," Arys Oakheart snapped, his voice cutting through the tension. "Lady Sansa nearly died, and you would make light of it?"

"Both of you, enough," you said, your tone brooking no argument. The kingsguards fell silent, chastened.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you considered your options. "We can't halt the progress I've made, not entirely. The lords will question my resolve, and we'll lose what little momentum we have. Redirect it, if only for a while."

You looked around the room, seeking counsel, clarity, anything to anchor your next decision. "We'll travel to someplace safer. On the road, we can learn what we can from other castles, other records. This… ghost, this shade… it claimed to be family. We need to know what that means, but we can't afford to unravel everything we've built to find out."

The room was quiet, the weight of your words settling over them all. Than there was The Blackfish who finally spoke and it was enough to almost make you laugh.

"So much for a peaceful progress. At least we can ignore the politics of the Vale for now. I'm getting sick of it, and I haven't even seen Lysa yet."

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Where did you Decide to Go next:

[]The Westerlands: Jaimes Choice and one that you wholeheartedly agreed with once you realized what the situation actually was on the ground. Tyrion was ruling and ruling well, and was very well-liked by his lords and his knights. However, there are numerous… small problems that need to be dealt with. Like Riversong has a Rhllor Minority, and their lord is a practicing priest, and the Faith trying to murder them. To say nothing of the Paynes trying to rob another house of a gold mine, the Westerlands trying to Marry Aegon before he decides to leave, Fair Isle complaining about the Ironborn not paying duty tax… basically, it's a standard operation and one where your presence will make things smoother. Hopefully.


[]The Reach: The High Garden is a radiant symbol of the power, wealth, and prosperity of all of Westeros. As long as we avoid High Tower, where the Maesters don't like you… well, you'll be very happy with such things. There is also The Ring… Lord Sauron has peculiarities, and you like a good story. Then there is the Arbor… Lady Redwyne is very much agreeable, to the new consortium… and Paxter's Exile. Mostly because she now has control of the Family's finances. And is making quite a bit of coin.


[]The Stormlands: Lord Davos and Lord Stannis have straightened the Ship of the Stormlands to a degree. While Robert's Supporters still linger and those who died are in need of replacement, There is a great deal of rebuilding. However, that is not the most troubling news. Ships are being found without crew. Bodies missing. Messages were left taunting the new lord of Stormlands. There is also troubling news from the Dornish Marches. The Dondarians have reported that strange happenings are coming from Sumemerhall, and the Smallfolk hears a Harp… Rhaegar Targaryens harp.


[]The Riverlands: Ahh the Riverlands…a place of chaos and disorder, first order of business, what is this shit you hear about Free Cities in Westeros…the Matter of Harrenhall's future as Lady Whent… is selling the castle, the titles and the lands… and the growing political disunity as a new small landowner class is calling for something called a Carta. Some kind of government document…and there is a massive revolt against the new Frey Lord's (Another Uprising of an elder Claimant) and a massive… What the fuck is this? The Peasants of The Blue Fork are claiming a free territory, and declared the Republic of Forks? Edmure, what the hell did you do!? What the hell are you doing!?


[]Dorne: Prince Doran has stated quite firmly, that there are not many problems in Dorne. And Oberny Agrees. Sure Lord Edric is the youngest Sword of the Morning in almost a thousand years at the age of 10, Lord Tor has said that the river is flowing again after unusually wet autumn… and then the Elephant in the Room. Arianne's mother is in Dorne. Everyone says not to trust her? But is it for politics? Or Personal reasons. You need a vacation... and Dorne can provide it.


[]The North: Ahh the North, The Stark's great beacon of stability, if you don't count the Forresters and Whitehills having yet another border skirmish. The Skagosi threatened to raid their neighbors because of insults… And White Harbor has been illegally booting the Septons of the Faith out their septs… and seizing their money to build ships? But otherwise, stable as always. There is also a Melee going on to celebrate Robb Stark's name day and prepare for the Fall Harvest time. There is also Whispers from the Barrows, funds are needed to expand Barrowtown.


[]The Iron Islands: Balon Greyjoy is dying. His line was broken, but still holding firm over the Isles thanks to Theon returning to begin the long process of repairing Pyke. But since the Rebellion, there have been some folk on the isles that wish for a new ruler, and have requested that you oversee a Moot. The first of its kind, in nearly 300 years. There are also the Farwynds that have requested that you visit them. Strange magics are afoot in the West.


[]The Wall: The Edge of the Civilized world. You wish to go there, to make it so that they will get what they need. There is no need to be diplomatic, mealy… Prepared. Something is beyond it, be it Wildlings, or something darker. Far darker than one may ever find.


AN: Enjoy.

2 years of meditation have led to this...

Vizzy T, the Three... has returned. this time to save the world.

Or at least kick the can down to the next generation.