A Crown of Fire, Throne of Blood (ASOIAF/GOT/SW) SI/OC merged with Viserys Targaryen

[Illuviar]

Spoiler: Viserys Targaryen's crown as Prince of Astapor

AN: This is the last part of Chapter 6. Next will come time skip, with Oberyn Martell arriving to a changing Astapor, allowing me to show the initial effects of Viserys' reforms and vision.

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 6 Part 6

=Sith=
​

290 AC
Astapor

One of the many things discussed by the Advisory Council was where to send the Good Masters slotted for exile and who to send with them as envoys. At the very least, Viserys needed a representative to reach Yunkai, Meereen, New Ghis, Elyria, and Tolos. Mantarys would be a stretch goal, and the same was true for Volantis. Sheer distance and lack of navy, respectively, made the latter two cities less than a threat, even though support from Volantis to Viserys' enemies would be painful.

That was why Viserys kept hammering at the same points at every single opportunity – he didn't want war in Essos. He had no ambitions for further conquest in Essos and would love to avoid such things if given the chance. Again and again, he focused on a future Targaryen restoration in Westeros, and he wanted the time and resources to do that right.

Surprisingly enough, most of the Advisory Council believed him. The few people who knew better kept their mouths shut because they were either loyal like Ser Lonmouth or had much to gain from Viserys succeeding in his plans for conquest like Old Theo, who still refused to take a proper name.

"I am willing to be an envoy to Yunkai and Meereen," Azmes announced after days of deliberation. "My family has connections in both cities, and we are respected. I will bring our Princes' words to the Masters there, and they will be at least willing to listen to me."

No one commented on the fact that with the boy's family effectively being hostages, he would behave. Dany was getting on with Azmes' cousins like a house on fire recently – a surprising relationship that was very beneficial. It helped that the girls knew that their cousin was loyal. While they might be technically hostages, unless something went terribly wrong, their family was set to benefit significantly from being Dany's Ladies in Waiting.

Even now, they sat beside Dany, whispering explanations in her ears about the political intricacies of the ongoing council session.

"In that case, I am willing to visit Elyria and Tolos," Kraghes mo Grazdan pipped in, eager not to be outdone by his friend. In the past night, he ascended as the leader of the Uquq family, a newly reforged noble House in the service of the Targaryen dynasty.

One of the recent changes was the end of the Great Masters, which were titles held by the most powerful nobles and slave merchants in Astapor. A new nobility system was replacing them, enshrining the new order brought forth by Viserys' conquest.

Azmes and Kraghes were freshly sworn High Lords, leading their Great Houses under the Targaryen banner.

The other Good Master families who eagerly or not so eagerly professed their support were in the process of deciding who their new High Lord would be. They had a few more days to decide before Viserys legally reforged their Houses and made them part of his nobility. That was scheduled to happen after the Targaryens' coronation next sennight. At that point, everyone would reaffirm their oaths to the new dynasty, officially, publicly, and legally binding them to the new order.

Until then, Viserys had a tremendous amount of amount of work to get through.

"I believe that sending one of my attendants with every envoy going to Yunkai, Meereen, and New Ghis can be beneficial," The Green Grace suggested. "Doing so will demonstrate that your reign is blessed by the Ghiscari gods and my belief that your word can be relied upon."

Viserys very pointedly smiled in appreciation at his lover. By now, it was a public secret that Zanage Shaehl shared his bed regularly and that by itself helped keep things calm among those who gave a damn about the Temple of the Graces.

"I will appreciate that, your Benevolence," the Prince offered kindly. "Captain Kaleb should have ships ready to deliver our envoys and the exiles by the sennight. They'll leave after our coronation."

Ideally, that would have happened already; however, vetting loyal captains and crews took too damn long because both Kaleb and Viserys had their hands full. It didn't help that some of the captured ships weren't Astapori, which led to potential headaches, a lot of bargaining, a blood price to be paid, and other similar complications. Most foreign ships were en route back home with holds full of treasure to buy goodwill, courtesy of fallen Good Masters. They would spread the news that Viserys was reasonable and willing to play the game everyone was involved in, save for him having no use for slavery due to practical Westeros-related reasons.

=Sith=​

Sazlani and Roqizha Lizha were all over Dany, ensuring she looked impeccable for the coronation at noon. Their handmaidens ran all over the place in a whirl of silk, ribbons, and cosmetics.

"Do you think they'll be ready in time?" Viserys asked while warily watching the spectacle. He was already ready, wearing an intricately crafted plate armor over a comfortable doublet and pants. Unsurprisingly, the whole thing was covered in dragon motifs that Smith spent over two sennights carving into the steel.

Ser Lonmouth wore white armor – more leather than steel to ensure he wouldn't keel over from a heat stroke. For the time being, Viserys had decided to dispense with the traditional Kingsguard, in no small part because seven Knights to guard a Royal family were far too few to get the job done. In a few hours, Ser Lonmouth would be the first Royal Guard of the Targaryens, and he would have his hands full in finding reliable members of the institution.

"I can't say one way or another, Your Grace. My only experience was with Princess Elia, and Prince Rhaegar usually had little Rhaenys around to distract us," Ser Richard mournfully admitted.

Viserys remembered his niece, and despite what Aerys claimed, he found nothing wrong with her. If anything, Rhaenys was a ray of sunshine in the court, a sign of better times. The Sith forced his mind away from such thoughts, for that way lay murderous rage.

Dany's happiness was like a balm to the soul, helping Viserys calm himself. Her giggling and that of her attendants were proof that getting her these particular girls as her Ladies-in-waiting was perhaps the best decision he made to date. Just glancing at them through the Force was enough to see they were all happy, and it was pathetically easy to divine that the Lohza sisters held no animosity toward Dany. If anything, recent events were a relief, for Viserys' conquest, secured their family's position like nothing else could.

The twins were still set to marry the cousin they liked, one who had their Prince's favor. Thus, they were guaranteed a marriage they could enjoy instead of dreading. Their fast friendship with Dany was also a security blanket that could shield them if something happened to Azmes.

Finally, the storm of silk and other things died out, revealing Dany looking positively radiant. Her hair was bound in a silver crown of intricate braids, the likes of which Viserys hadn't seen since before the Usurpation. That, combined with Dany's light black and red dress, made her look like the Targaryen Princess she was. Behind her, Sazlani and Roqizha wore matching white dresses, a message that they were still innocent maidens. Their handmaidens surrounded them like an honor guard, signaling that they were ready.

Viserys took the lead, with Ser Lonmouth marching a step behind him. Dany and the other girls followed suit as they left the pyramid. Unsullied Centuries waited outside, ready to act as an honor guard. Each block of elite soldiers carried its own Targaryen banner. Palanquins were prepared to offer transportation, with muscled, free young men ready to carry them.

The Targaryens' procession made its way to the Plaza of Pride while cheering crowds covered the streets and screamed their support for the warlord who freed them. Black and red banners fluttered in the air on nearly every rooftop, embroidered with crimson three-headed dragons.

The plaza was packed to bursting with lines of Unsullied, barely holding the gathered people. Thousands of loyalists or self-proclaimed Targaryen supporters waited to watch the coronation, which would enshrine the formal establishment of the new order.

Viserys couldn't remember the last time he saw that many Targaryen banners fluttering in the air. Was it at that accursed tourney at Harrendal?

The Green Grace waited on the platform where it all began, surrounded by her attendants in pink dresses. Young girls in white held pillows with a crown and tiara made by the best smiths and jewelers of Astapor.

Visery's crown was shaped like two interlinked silver dragons, with tiny rubies for eyes. Two larger rubies stood at the front of the crown, right above a much larger heart-shaped gem encased in silver.

The Prince's Advisory Council joined him, now finally complete with seven commoners elected to represent the regular citizenry of Astapor. The Councillors flanked the platform, surrounded by Unsullied in gleaming lamellar steel or bronze armor.

Dany's attendants moved aside to allow her passage so she could join Viserys as he walked to stand before the Green Grace.

"Good people of Astapor, we are gathered today, in the light of the gods, to crown a man who brought us a new path!" Zanage Shaehl's voice carried clearly over the plaza. "For far too long, Astapor has stagnated, rotting due to a lack of vision! We were once a proud people, masters of all we surveyed! Our Prince has the blessing of the gods to bring forth a new age! Let us all be united under a singular vision to forge a bright future!"

Viserys fell on one knee before the Green Grace, followed by Daenerys.

"Viserys of House Targaryen," Zanage Shaehl continued after one of the girls brought her the crown. She picked it up, and no one could mistake the reverence with which she now spoke. "It is my great privilege to Crown you as the first Ruling Prince of Astapor! Do you swear to protect Astapor and her citizens with all your might?"

"So I swear!" Viserys vowed.
"Do you swear to bring prosperity to your realm and all who inhabit it?"

"So I swear!"

"Do you swear to be a just sovereign of Astapor?"

"So I swear!"

The Green Grace picked up the crown and carefully placed it upon Viserys' brow.

"Under the gaze of gods and men, you solemnly gave your oaths. From your lips into the gods' ears, you vowed. Raise Prince Viserys Targaryen, First of Your Name, Sorcerer Warlord, and Sovereign of Astapor! The Liberator!"

Thousands of throats cheered as Viserys rose, their crowned and annoited Prince. He raised a hand, and the cheer gradually subsided. Zanage Shaehl walked to stand above Daenerys and repeated the ritual.

"Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen. It is my great privilege to crown you as the first Crown Princess and heiress to the Principality of Astapor. Do you swear to protect Astapor and her citizens with all your might?"

"So I swear!" Dany's voice rang loud and true.

"Do you swear to bring prosperity to your realm and all who inhabit it?"

"So I swear!"

"Do you swear to be a just sovereign of Astapor upon your ascension to the throne?"

"So I swear!"

The Green Grace picked up the glimmering tiara and carefully placed it on Dany's head.

"Under the gaze of gods and men, you solemnly gave your oaths. From your lips into the gods' ears, you vowed. Raise Princess Daenerys Targaryen, Heiress to the Principality of Astapor!" the Green Grace gleefully proclaimed.

The Force swelled with the crowd's emotions, and Viserys seized the moment when Dany rose to join him standing before the crowd.

"This day marks a new age for Astapor! We offered you all a new path, a future worthy of living, and we've been tirelessly working to achieve it! Today, you are my people through conquests, through the laws of gods and men. I hereby offer you the new path that will guide us all into a bright future. Freedom through Power!" Viserys roared, and everyone who heard him picked up the chant.

"Freedom through Power!"

"FREEDOM THROUGH POWER!"

"FREEDOM THROUGH POWER!"

Viserys waited for the thunderous roars to subdue before he could continue.

"The truth of this world we are condemned to live in is simple. Power is all that matters at the end of the day. It doesn't matter how good or pious you are, it doesn't matter how moral you are, for if you lack power! For then, everything you have and desire to protect can be easily taken from you. All of you, my people, who until recently had no power over your lives, know this truth deep down in your hearts," Viserys used the combined emotions of the crowd through the Force to make them believe his words without a shadow of a doubt. "I promised you power, and I will deliver. Our society must change. Only as warrior people can we be the architects of our own fate."

"Freedom through Power!" The crowd changed, with thousands practically foaming at the mouth in near rapture.

"Freedom through Power!" Viserys and Dany shouted back.

"Thus, I offer you the Resol'nare, a path to power and unity, so you will never be again alone and vulnerable!" At that, everyone hung upon Visery's words and was eager to hear more. "I will strive to grant you all arms and armor so you can defend yourselves and your families. It will be your solemn duty to take care of that gear. I will grant you the training you need to be the first and last line of defense for your families, so slavers will never again take away your dignity, your freedom, and your loved ones!"

"FREEDOM THROUGH POWER!" Thousands of throats went raw from screaming.

"We will be one people. Bound by one culture, one language. I will reforge you into warrior people capable of defending yourselves! Your solemn task will be to raise your children as warriors who can protect themselves, their families, and their future children! You will never again be alone! For it is the solemn duty of each of us to contribute to the welfare of the rest and shield each other's backs!" Viserys paused, waiting for the inevitable chanting to subdue.

"The price for this power, the future I offer you, and my protection is simple. When I call upon you, you will rally upon my cause! Just like I will be here to shield you from anyone daring to take away your freedom and subjugate your families, you will stand right beside me to protect House Targaryen!"

"FREEDOM THROUGH POWER!" This time, it was Dany who screamed it first, and countless throats joined her declaration.

After everyone calmed down, it was time for people to officially and publicly swear their allegiance to the Targaryens.

"Ser Richard Lonmouth, step forward!" Viserys ordered.

The knight saluted with a fist to the heart, as everyone does these days, at their Prince's suggestion. He walked before his sovereign and took a knee, drawing and offering his sword to the Targaryen.

"After the death of Ser William Darry two years ago, I believed that there were no true loyalists sworn to my family left in the world. For words are wind, and actions are what matters in the end. I will be forever grateful that you proved me wrong, Ser. The Kings of Westeros, who sit on the throne my family forged with dragon fire and blood, have their Kingsguard to protect them. Seven Knights, for the whole Royal Family, no matter how small or large. History has repeatedly proven that seven men, no matter how lethal and deadly, might not be up to the task of guarding the Royal Family through no fault of their own. Today, I will prove that I've learned from the mistakes of my predecessors," Viserys looked over the crowd before focusing on the kneeling knight. "Ser Richard Lonmouth, it is my great honor and privilege to name you the Lord Commander of House Targaryen's Royal Guard."

"It is my utmost privilege to serve House Targaryen with all I am, Your Grace!" Lonmouth's words dripped with pride and vindication.

"Ser Lonmouth, do you swear to obey your Prince's commands?"

"I swear!"

"Do you swear to protect House Targaryen until your dying breath?"

"I vow so by the Old Gods and the New!"

"Do you swear to keep our secrets and offer wise counsel?"

"I swear!"

"Do you swear to protect the name and honor of House Targaryen?"

"I swear so!"

By then, it was clear that this was a religious experience for Ser Lonmouth. At that point, Viserys doubted he would ever get a more faithful loyalist he hadn't mind-fucked through the Force to be his creature through and through.

"Then raise, Ser Richard Lonmough, Lord Commander of the Royal Guard. Your first task will be finding at least a hundred leal men and women to fill the ranks."

Lonmouth rose and sheathed his sword in a smooth motion. Pure devotion was written all over his face. He saluted and took his position behind Viserys.

The Unsullied commanders filled in one after another, followed by Captain Kaleb, so they could give their own oaths. The rest of the Advisory Council would follow, then everyone else, beginning with the new Great Houses led by their High Lords.

 

[Illuviar]

AN: Rejoice, my muse is back working overtime and taking illicit substances she refuses to share the name of.

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 7 Part 1

=Sith=​

291 AC
Spear of the Sun
Slaver's Bay

The voyage to Slaver's Bay lasted longer than it could have. Prince Oberyn Martell traveled on one of Dorne's finest warships, escorted by a squadron of fine war galleys, making them far faster than any merchantman prowling the seas. Nevertheless, bad weather forced them to take a detour to Lys, which everyone on board enjoyed. Oberyn had no complaints during the week he spent there sampling what the infamous pillow houses had to offer. His only regret was that Elaria wasn't with him… that wasn't entirely true. Because of Viserys Targaryen's stunts and Doran's orders, Oberyn already missed the birth of his youngest daughter. When all was said and done, ships weren't a good place for very pregnant women. Oberyn's real regret was that he wasn't there to deliver his newest daughter and ensure his Paramour was all right. Consequently, the Prince spent most of the voyage eager for it to end so he could return home.

At least Daemon was always present to distract the Red Viper with spars and other fun activities.

The storms that pushed them to Lys were not a unique experience on their way to Astapor. The Dornish squadron reached Volantis without accident and enjoyed another week while the ships resupplied and the crew rested. After that, the gods decided to be less than cooperative. They prudently avoided the Smoking Sea, swinging south of the ruined Valyrian Peninsula. Storms ravaging the Gulf of Grief pushed them to New Ghis, where the Dornish had to spend nearly a month until their ships could be repaired.

Oberyn could keenly remember their arrival at the docks. Iron legionaries kept a large crowd at bay, gawking at a war galley proudly bearing a painfully familiar banner.

At New Ghis, of all places, Oberyn saw a banner with a three-headed dragon flying proudly for the first part in nearly eight years. The Prince was the first of his compatriots to jump off their ship on the docks and demand answers about the Targaryens.

As it turned out, their detour was a golden opportunity to learn more about the Sorcerer Prince, as people called Viserys over here. Immediately it became clear that the Ghiscari weren't thrilled that a dragon nested in Slaver's Bay. Oberyn could hear the gathered crows grumble at the Targaryen banner, and he had to remind himself of the animosity between Old Valyria and the Ghiscari Empire. New Ghis styled itself Old Ghiscar reborn, so it made sense they wouldn't be thrilled at Viserys taking one of the nearby Salver Cities.

Ulwyck Uller, Elaria's uncle, and Daemon hurried to join Oberyn, followed by a group of Dornish spearmen. Meanwhile, the Captain got the attention of the port authorities and began negotiating repairs and resupply for the squadron. The Prince's rank and status as an official representative of Dorne earned him a visit to the Ghiscari court. Unitil, the news of his presence could filter through to the Empress of New Ghis. Oberyn mingled with the crowds at the docks and then hit a few pillow houses. For once, he was more eager to gather information than to partake in the pleasures of the flesh. Still, doing both was more than feasible, not to mention fun.

What Oberyn learned was both helpful and not because, unsurprisingly, there were many conflicting rumors.

"Prince Viserys used foul magic to take control of the Unsullied and conquer Astapor!"

"The Valyrian bastard slaughtered all the Good Masters before exiling their families after robbing them blind!"

"Viserys was a wise and merciful conqueror who allowed the Good Masters to leave with their lives safe for a few foolish enough to offend his little sister, the Princess Daenerys! Those who did so died struck down by terrible magic!"

One thing was sure: the more Oberyn learned of his quarry, the more eager he was to meet the young conqueror. Daeron, the Young Dragon, was about the same age when he conquered Dorne, only to die out of arrogance and underestimating the Dornish. It was going to be interesting to see what Viserys was made of.

Days later, Oberyn, Daemon, and Ulwyck had the grand 'privilege' of an audience in the Empres's court. Legion commanders and Ghiscari nobles stood behind the Harpy Throne while courtiers lined up the walls in the audience chamber. Columns shaped like Harpies gilded with brass and gold held the ceiling and terraces where higher-ranked nobles looked down upon their lessers.

Oberyn could vaguely recall the colors of Ghiscari houses from the small archipelago holding New Ghis. Most of those were in place of honor behind the Empress or in the galleries above. Lesser nobles lined the walls, often standing in the shadows cast between the columns – those were the Ghiscari with holdings on the mainland, where no large cities existed since the Valyrians brought low the old Ghiscari Empire. That was ironic in the Prince's mind because if it wasn't for the nobles and merchants operating on the mainland, New Ghis would be a pale shadow of the grandeur he now experienced.

The islands by themselves simply couldn't support the military and trade power that made New Ghis and its Empress the premier power between Volantis and Qarth. That was especially important because the Red Waste and the Giscar mountains shielded the Ghiscari holdings on the mainland from Dothraki raids, allowing them to prosper in peace ever since the Doom.

"Presenting Pink Grace Liqaqi Gellhi of the Astrapori Temple of the Graces," the seneschal announced. "Envoy of Sorcerer Prince Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, Ruling Prince of Astapor!"

A hush fell upon the court. The Empress leaned forward, and even with the dark veil hiding her face, it was clear she was curious to see and hear what the envoy had to say.

"Your Imperial Majesty," the Ping Grace bowed deeply as protocol demanded. "I am heartened to be in your radiant presence. I am Pink Grace Liqaqi Gellhi, bringing your Radiance good tidings from Astapor!"

Oberyn noticed how a group of nobles stirred at the introduction, and he couldn't miss how some of them flinched every time someone announced the Priestess' name. Were they distant relatives? The Prince needed a few moments to recall that it was customary in this part of Essos for young noble girls to be given to the local Temple of the Graces.

"A Valyrian dared claim a Ghiscari City," The Empress's voice struck like a whip. "You will explain your master's actions, Priestess! The days of the Valyrian Freehold are over. There are no more Dragonlords!"

"Your Radiance, that is precisely why my Prince sent me here," The Pink Grace offered another deep bow. "Prince Viserys has neither the desire nor the intent to wage war in Essos. The reason he took Astapor is simple – the foolishness of the Good Masters made it the easiest and simplest way for him to gain a trustworthy army in our Unsullied. My Prince's intent and ambitions lie in Westeros. He is eager to restore the Targaryen Dynasty on the Iron Throne forged by his forebearers. Astapor's distance from Westeros is a shield against the blades and armies of the Usurper Robert Baratheon and his lapdogs. If left in peace, my Prince aims to prepare for wars of restoration in Westeros. Astapor will be a distant safe port for commerce once the Targaryens recover their ancestral throne. My Prince's only desire in Slaver's Bay and beyond in Essos is the opportunity to trade freely."

That proclamation got everyone murmuring. Overyn couldn't contain his grin. Perhaps Viserys was precisely what he needed to avenge Elia and her children!

"The Good Masters you brought in exile might beg to differ, Pink Grace," The Empress countered.

"My Prince's goals mean that he can't be seen as abetting slavery in a city he holds, Imperial Majesty. We are all aware of how the Westerosi Barbarians view the ancient trade," the Priestess sounded profoundly apologetic. "The best my Prince can offer is that visiting dignitaries and traders can retain their slaves while doing their business in Astapor. However, Prince Viserys can't be seen in allowing the selling or buying of flesh in any territory he controls."

"Barbarians," the Empress scoffed, and her court conveniently tittered at her half-hearted jape.

Oberyn's smile grew wider. Viserys was proving himself not a complete fool. There was no way in the Seven Hells that Dorne could be seen aiding a slaver to ascend the Iron Throne, not even to avenge Elia! Aiding and abetting slavery was one of the few things she would never forgive to see those who murdered her and her children pay for their transgressions.

"We've heard your Prince's words, Pink Grace. You are granted all privileges worthy of an honored diplomatic envoy. We will discuss your Prince's actions and intents before deciding how to proceed," The Empress decreed.

At the very least, Viserys bought himself time before New Ghis moved against him. It remained to be seen if the young Prince could put this boon to good use.

=Sith=​

A week later, Oberyn attended the royal court for a second time. By then, he learned of all rumors concerning Viserys, even as they grew wilder by the day. He even managed to meet the Pink Grace, though sadly, she proved resistant to his charms.

The woman either knew nothing else or was devoted to the Targaryen Prince because no matter who inquired or how they did it, she kept repeating the same narrative. Viserys was only interested in a future war in Westeros. He knew that trying to fight slavery as an institution would be madness, and he only outlawed it in Astapor due to how the Westerosi perceived it, etc…

Frankly, if it wasn't for the pillow houses and amusing new outlandish rumors, Oberyn would have grown bored weeks ago.

The high point of their stopover at New Ghis was the Empress making up her mind about Astapor.

"Pink Grace, we Ghiscari are old and wise people," the Empress announced, to sage nods from her courtiers. "Going to war for war's sake would be foolish. We pride ourselves on our Iron Legions, which are made of proud Ghiscari citizens. Wasting their lives without a good reason is not something we desire. We have decided to allow your Prince to prove his words true. However, there will be consequences due to his actions against the old trade. Your Prince's actions might be understandable in light of his barbaric Westerosi heritage. That makes the disruption of the old trade and potential loss of revenue no less real. Any trade between New Ghis merchant houses and Astapor will come with increased markup and taxation. Any noble and merchant houses that suffered the seizure of property or loss of life when your liege took Astapor are hereby free to seek further restitution beyond the blood price offered by your Prince, envoy Liqaqi Gellhi. They are free to demand a blood price they deem fit for the offense and refuse to trade with Astapor under your Prince's control. They have my leave to support any enemies your Prince's actions earned him or will earn him in the future if that is what their honor demands."

At that proclamation, Oberyn's estimate of the Empress's cunning, or at least that of her advisors, rose significantly higher. She just announced that New Ghis might finance a war against Viserys while shielding itself with a cloak of neutrality. Viserys would invite retaliation by New Ghis' full might if he retaliated. This way, the Empress and her cronies were free to make the Targaryens' lives much harder while avoiding an open war against a powerful sorcerer. If Viserys proved himself more dangerous and capable than anticipated, the Empress would happily sacrifice some minor noble and merchant houses to avoid a potentially ruinous conflict.

Essos was in for very interesting times, Oberyn decided. He couldn't possibly wait for the ship's repairs to conclude so he could finally reach Astapor and meet Viserys!

 

[Illuviar]

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 7 Part 2

=Sith=​

291 AC
Astapor

When the Dornish squadron approached Astapor early in the afternoon, Oberyn was on the prowl, keeping his eyes wide open. He could see trade ships escorted by war galleys bearing banners from Elyria, Tolos, and Yunkai. However, there was no trace of Meereenese vessels. A handful of New Ghis merchantmen were in port – likely carrying a delegation from the Empress and Ghiscari merchants to discuss trade deals and blood price. If New Ghis played the diplomatic game well enough, they could either win very lucrative deals with Astapor or have an excellent reason to be hostile to Viserys for not paying sufficient recompense.

The Prince of Dorne saw three squadrons bearing the Targaryen banner out in the bay, clearly training. More crimson three-headed dragons on black flew above the harbor and the walls above it. The last time Oberyn visited Astapor was as a youth while adventuring across Essos. Even back then, it was clear that the harpies on top of many pyramids were gilded in bronze, some even in gold. Viserys had no use for such displays, for there were construction crews all over those statues visible from the bay, removing the metal and tearing down the harpies themselves. As they got closer, Oberyn saw that the Prince was putting some of that material to good use to repair the walls overlooking the harbor. If he was a betting man, which he was, then the Red Viper would happily bet a lot that the outer city walls would be in a far better condition than he remembered them.

A squadron of Targaryen warships deployed near the harbor to protect the docks suddenly moved, propelled by oars. Those ships moved to intercept the Dornish vessels, which made Oberyn nod in approval.

The Captain came to stand beside his prince after shouting orders for the ships to halt.

"Prince Oberyn, I am pretty sure that the squadrons in the bay signaled those ships and lookouts on the walls with flags," the experienced seaman pointed out.

"Is that good security for a port?" Oberyn inquired. While he knew his way around ships enough not to be utterly useless in a pinch, the Prince wasn't a sailor, much less a ship Captain with all that entailed.

"This isn't something you would see outside of a war footing. At best, there are anti-piracy patrols, lookouts on walls, and outlying keeps might provide a warning. Keeping warships constantly at sea to patrol for a possible enemy is not great for morale or the ships themselves. Doing so tends to get expensive. Keels foul up; everything gets strained at sea much faster than at the dock. You need to balance keeping the ships seaworthy and in good condition and maintaining a trained crew with high morale for when you need them. That is why some warships are always used as traders or escorts that carry some precious cargo and passengers, while others are in port for maintenance and repairs," the Captain explained. "Flags are the best way to communicate between ships as long as every Captain in question has a fareye," judging by the tone, every Captain worth their salt would have a pristine fareye they took better care of than their cocks.

Oberyn looked at the coast around Astapor. A few keeps or guard towers around it would spot an approaching fleet that didn't try to go through deep sea. The Prince knew that navigation away from the coasts was dangerous at the best times.

A Summer Islander was in charge of the Targaryen warship that closed up with the Spear of the Sun. He had tattoos that marked him as a slave and fading scars from a slave collar around his neck.

"Welcome to the Principality of Astapor, strangers! What brings you here? I am Captain Bholos Rasa at your service." The dark-skinned man offered a polite bow and kept carefully examining the Dornis ship.

"We are escorting Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, leading a delegation of envoys here to meet Prince Viserys Targaryen!" The Captain proclaimed.

"We must inspect your ships before granting you permission to dock. With you being Westerosi, I trust you don't have slaves to declare?"

"Slaves? We heard that slavery was illegal here?" Oberyn narrowed his eyes at the Summer Islander.

"That has been the case since Prince Viserys freed us all. However, we need to trade with the other cities in Essos," Captain Rasa grimaced. "That means traders can bring in slaves as part of their crews. The same goes for envoys and visitors and their staff. However, buying or selling people within our borders is illegal. The same goes for enslaving people, obviously." It was clear the Captain wasn't exactly thrilled at the situation, but sadly, it made sense.

Viserys was a practical man or had level-headed advisors to whom he listened. Perhaps both. That made him a better potential ally, yet at the same time, it meant he would likely be harder to manipulate. Frankly, Oberyn didn't care one way or another as long as he got to avenge his sister and her children. The political details were for Doran to worry about!

Oberyn and his companions got to observe the inspection and liked what they saw. As far as they could tell, it was all professionally carried out. Captain Rasa's sailors were all polite and well-armed. Many of them carried themselves as veteran seamen, while others were obviously new and undergoing training. However, even the latter group clearly knew their way around a ship and how to conduct an inspection competently, which was a bit of a confusing contradiction.

There were new seamen among the Dornish crews. Oberyn got to see how they found their sea legs and slowly but surely became more and more competent. However, for most, the voyage to date wasn't enough to give them the confidence and competence displayed by the Targaryen sailors. There was something he wasn't seeing, Oberyn decided and smiled. They hadn't docked yet, and despite that, Aastapor under the Targaryens kept growing and becoming more and more interesting!

They got to dock at sunset, just as the evening tide rose, allowing heavily loaded merchant vessels to easily sail to the docks or leave them. Torches and braziers lit up the harbor and many pyramids, throwing flickering lights everywhere. Unsullied, Centuries and City Guards patrolled the harbor. Oberyn could see ballistas and catapults under construction on top of warehouses and the walls above the docks. It was clear that Viserys was taking precautions against a possible seaborne invasion. When the siege engines were complete, they could make the harbor a death trap for any invading force, especially if there were a few thousand Unsullied in place to pin down the invaders.

The Red Viper approved and was very interested in figuring out what other surprises his distant kin have in place for uninvited guests, for the welcome here was positively Dornish!

"I am pretty sure I saw piles of stones up on the warehouse roofs," Daemon noted.

Oberyn squinted at the twilight. Due to the flickering flames illuminating the area, he wasn't sure what else was on top of the buildings across the harbor.

"It makes sense," Ulwyck agreed. "They're turning this place into a deathtrap. "It reminds me of home!" After all, it wasn't just luck that brought Meraxes down at Hellholt. The Ulliers might be mad, but that only meant they always went overboard in turning their ancestral lands into as much of a deathtrap as possible. During Aegon's Conquest, no keep was arguably better prepared to fend off a dragon assault.

A local official, backed by a group of City Guard in light armor with Targaryen livery proudly carried on their chests, was at the dock, waiting for them.

"Prince Oberyn, this is an unexpected surprise," the local smiled thinly at him after Daemon introduced their party. "The last Prince I welcomed on this very dock conquered Astapor. I hope you hold no such aspirations for your sake, Your Grace."

"And if I do?" The Red Viper simply couldn't help himself.

"Then I will recommend you make sure your affairs are in order. Your reputation might precede you, Your Grace, but you are no Sorcerer Warlord, unlike our esteemed Prince Viserys."

The City Guards all nodded at the official's words and stared suspiciously at Oberyn. It was clear they were loyal to Viserys. A closer glance revealed that they were all liberated slaves. While they didn't carry themselves like experienced killers, it was clear they weren't rabble. It was noticeable to Oberyn's experienced eye that these people hadn't been simply handled weapons recently and called to serve with only a few weeks of basic training like most Westerosi levies. Were they Fighting Pit slaves who now worked as guards? That might explain it, though these people didn't look like that kind of seasoned killers. This was yet another little mystery Oberyn was eager to explore!

"I will do my utmost to behave myself. I didn't travel all the way from Sunspear to cause too much trouble," Oberyn grinned. "I am here to meet my distant kin. We have vengeance against Usurpers to discuss."

 

[Illuviar]

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 7 Part 3

=Sith=​

291 AC
Astapor

A dull wooden dart whistled through the air, aimed at Daenerys. The Princess ducked, evading the training weapon, only for a second one to hit her in the shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. She had a helmet with covered eyeholes, ensuring she couldn't use her eyes in this infernal exercise.

"Trusting your senses is an outstanding trait for a regular warrior to have, sister," Viserys lectured.

Dany bristled at her brother's amused tone, for she knew what was coming, and it was simply infuriating.

"However, we have the Force and other magic. Those powers elevate us beyond the ken of mere mortals. Listen to the Force, bend it to your will, and use it!"

Daenerys sensed the energy all around her tremble and raised her training sword in a guard stance. The Sith Acolyte did her best to anticipate the attack she knew was coming. Yet, in her frustration, she failed to block even one of the darts Viserys threw at her. Dany yelped in pain as the weapons hit her and growled at her brother.

"Use your anger and frustration. Such emotions are fuel for the Force. You must submerge into these emotions without losing yourself in the rage. You need them to feed the offensive side of the Force until you have the experience and understanding to draw on it without heavily relying on such emotions!"

Dany knew that! It was deceptively simple and straightforward to say. Actually, doing as instructed was another matter altogether!

What made things even more frustrating was that Dany could touch the Force and use it for basic things when calm and collected. The same was true when Visy linked their minds and guided her through utilizing emotions in the way he talked about. However, when Dany tried to do it by herself under any kind of pressure, it only worked when she was so angry she saw red or terrified. While that could be useful as a desperate measure, it wasn't something to rely upon. The Princes could clearly recall what happened when they tested it, and it wasn't a pleasant experience.

Viserys intentionally kept pushing her until pure rage overwhelmed Daenerys reason. She went at Ser Richard like a madwoman fuelled by the Force. Dany moved faster than she had any right to. She struck harder than any eleven-year-old ever could! Within moments, she had the veteran knight fall back, barely managing to parry or avoid her dull blade until his back hit a wall. Dany's training sword hammered at his defenses unrelentingly until she found an opening, then another and another, slamming her blade into Ser Richard's armor with bruising strength. She was so absorbed in beating her target that she didn't even notice, much less sense, her brother picked up a training dart and threw it at her back. She would have died then and there, too absorbed by her fury to pay attention to other threats.

Viserys used the Force to show his sister real terror the next time she lost control. An abyss of mind-bending fear swallowed her whole while three Unsullied with training spears surrounded her. Afterward, it was only because Visy linked their minds and showed her what happened that Dany knew what she did. She saw herself through her brother's eyes and let out a piercing scream that pushed the soldiers away. Dany moved in a blur, too fast for the Unsullied to strike. The Force allowed her to anticipate their moves and react before they did. It took her mere heartbeats to take them apart with her training blade, and if it wasn't for Visy halting her, Dany knew she wouldn't have stopped until they were very dead.

What was worse, she didn't recognize her brother and lashed at him with both her weapon and the Force. If he were anyone else, any other ally or friend, they would have died before the Princess recognized them. She didn't recognize Visy either; it was just that he was more than capable of handling her onslaught and subduing her.

A dart lightly tapped Dany's helmet. She could vaguely sense it moving before her eyes. She pushed her helmet off her head and glanced from the training weapon to her brother, who shook his head at her.

"Daydreaming during training is bad enough. Losing your concentration in battle is a death sentence. The next time you do this, I will have to use a sharper reminder, something neither of us will enjoy."

Dany knew that wasn't entirely true, which was one of the most dangerous gifts the darker side of the Force offered. If you let it, the Force could allow you to live with anything you might have to do to survive, no matter how despicable or monstrous. At the same time, that was a slippery slope that could easily make you a monster, leading to self-destruction through burning your bridges with all your family, friends, and allies. The Force might allow you to stand alone if you had enough training and experience. However, you needed support to get there. Once there, no matter how individually powerful, there was only so much you could achieve alone. That was arguably the greatest trap the Force offered…

A dull dart hit Dany's forehead hard enough to make her drop her helmet with a yelp and clutch the bruise.

"Focus, sister. I want the best for you, and that means training you so you are the most dangerous woman on Planetos!" Viserys said.

He meant every word. His fond exasperation at her antics made Dany's heart flutter, reassuring her once again that no one else cared or would ever care about her as much as Visy did.

"You know, you are making it very hard for me to remain vexed at you, no matter how much you deserve it, Dany," Visy huffed.

Ser Richard walked into the training area, wearing white chain armor underneath a white tabard with the Targaryen crest above his heart. That was the newest armor design he was trying for the Royal Guard, for everything he had attempted until now proved unsuitable for the climate in this part of Essos.

"Your Grace, Princess, we have visitors. A delegation from Dorne arrived earlier tonight, requesting an audience," The Lord Commander informed them. "Prince Oberyn Martell is leading it."

"You know, I recall him visiting soon after we went into exile, and that was it. Isn't it curious that we saw nothing from the Dornish when we needed them most?" Viserys scoffed.

Dany winced at the bitterness leaking from Visy, trying its best to poison the whole room. She couldn't blame him. Daenerys didn't remember such a visit, much less any Dornish support when they were on the run.

Viserys huffed and took a deep breath. He shoved his bitterness and anger away in such a way that made the Force around him tremble enough for Dany to notice.

"Inform Prince Oberyn that we will meet with him tomorrow evening after holding court. Like it or not, he's a distant kin, and we have precious little left of that… and he is the first to come now that we are no longer powerless exiles."

 

[Illuviar]

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 7 Part 4

=Sith=​

291 AC
Astapor

Coming to Astapor was one of the best decisions he had ever made, Oberyn decided. He also had to credit his brother for sending him here. Just observing all the changes Viserys had made was enough to ensure the visit was worth it.

Like most sane Westerosi, Oberyn wasn't a fan of slavery. Walking Astapor's streets and seeing countless liberated slaves walking around as free men and women was exhilarating. However, the Red Viper couldn't decide if Viserys was a genius visionary or a madlad, for he was doing his best to turn all those liberated slaves into warrior people.

"This reminds me of home," Daemon muttered as they observed Unsullied and others train blocks of regular people to use shields and spears. Nearby, better-trained freemen and women were practicing with short swords.

"Even we didn't go this far," Ulwyck noted.

Nothing was preventing Dornish women from becoming warriors if they so desired. It was customary for young girls to get a dagger and learn how to use it to defend themselves. While it didn't always work, most rapists to be in Dorne ended up gutted, stabbed, and often enough neutered long before the city watch or anyone else could get their hands on them. As a father of many daughters, the Red Viper wholeheartedly approved of that. Their first dagger was one of the most important gifts he could offer his girls. Well, the blade and training on how to use it like a master.

However, what they saw was a step beyond what Dorne went to, even during their darkest times, like during the Targaryens' invasions.

Oberyn was also right about the city's outer walls – they were in far better shape than he remembered. Hundreds of people were still busy restoring and improving them. A glance was enough to see sections for siege weapons to be constructed like those overlooking the docks.

It was becoming clear that Viserys intended to hold Astapor for the long run and use it even after he came for the Iron Throne. Oberyn could see the utility of such a distant, safe port for Westerosi merchants. While holding Astapor in the long run could prove challenging and expensive, it could be worth it. Such a safe harbor might make trade with Yi-Ti far easier and safer, and that alone could more than pay for holding and maintaining a city so far from Westeros.

"Most of those people are already better than regular levies," Ulwyck pointed out.

Oberyn focused his attention on the training people. The Unsullied were peerless if unimaginative. Fighting their fight was a losing proposition – the Red Viper figured out that easily the last time he was in Essos. Watching the free citizens train was eye-opening. It was expensive for all those hours of training could be spent working. It was also dangerous, especially in light of the creed Viserys was hammering into everyone's heads.

Freedom through Power. Oberyn liked it. That was how Dorne kept its independence for so long, even if the price in blood was frightful.

Granting everyone weapons and eventually armor as it became available was, on the face of it, a foolish, ruinous expense. It could backfire. The free people of Astapor might decide not to follow Viserys in war… The Red Viper laughed at that thought. Judging by what he saw to date, such an outcome was improbable. Viserys not only freed all these people, he gave them weapons and power. Oberyn could sense it in the air; the young Targaryen earned himself an army and was busy turning it into a great fighting force. Between all these freed slaves and the Unsullied, the only thing Viserys missed was cavalry. Oberyn already saw the Prince's navy, and according to the Dornish Captains, its crews were already very good and getting better.

"A heavy cavalry charge can break them, but not the Unsullied," Daemon concluded. "If Viserys has enough time to complete training and outfitting all those people…"

"He'll have at least two armies by the time he is ready to return home," the Red Viper's eyes shone malevolently, dreaming of bloody vengeance. He could clearly see it now; it was closer than ever!

"Our cavalry and spears might just be enough combined with what he has at hand," Ulwyck nodded in approval.

A small, mad smile graced his lips. Almost eight years ago, the Ulliers lost half their men at the Trident. Ulwyck had to ransom his older brother, Harman, the Lord of Hellhold, for a hefty prize. The Ulliers had more reason to loathe the Usurper than most other Dornish. After Dorne lost almost ten thousand spears in that war, virtually everyone loathed Rober and those who supported him for losing friends and family in the Rebellion.

It was only Doran and the knowledge they didn't have the numbers to gain their vengeance that held Dorne back for so long… There were still many days people like the Red Viper hardly cared, for their hearts cried for vengeance.

Today, Oberyn's heart cried in indignation, too, for Viserys Targaryen decided to slight them by making them wait for an audience until late evening. A dead man brought that news, further fouling the Red Viper's temper with his very existence.

"Ser Richard Lonmouth," Oberyn exclaimed at the white cloak who visited the Dornish party in the inn where they stayed. "You are supposed to be dead!"

"I was lost and as good as dead until my Prince and Princess found me and brought me back," the knight of the Kingsguard said. A pleasant smile made his scars move as if alive, making him look propery terrifying. "Prince Viserys will see you tomorrow evening after court concludes."

The Red Viper twitched at the slight and at Lonmouth daring to be here, alive, when Elia, Rhaenys, and little Aegon were gone.

"Where were you?!" Oberyn demanded. "Did you carry that cloak eight years ago?!"

"I was a regular knight then, in service of my Prince," Lonmouth's eye hardened. "You must know Rhaegar didn't abandon his wife and children at the Red Keep. They were as much hostages to ensure Dorne's support in the war as to keep Rhaegar in line. If it wasn't for Aerys holding them, my Prince would have almost certainly turned the Royal Army around and deposed his father before dealing with the Rebels! Aerys lickspittles and other damn traitors at court made that impossible just like they ruined our plans for Harrendal!"

Oberyn flinched at those words as if struck with a mace. For years, he had believed that Rhaegar abandoned Elia and the children. The thought that Aerys kept them as hostages against him as well, instead of only to keep Dorne in line after the slight Rhaegar inflicted upon all Dornish at Harrendal, never really crossed his mind.

The Red Viper also barely noted the rest of his party gape at Lonmouth's words.

The Dornish left the training ground to explore the city further. Criers kept repeating the same creed on most lively corners across Astapor, making the visitors wonder what made Viserys think of this new way he was pushing. Oberyn was a learned man who forged himself many chains at the Citadel before traveling to Essos to further his knowledge and enjoy many adventures. He had heard of nothing quite like this in all his years.

More importantly, those were no empty words. Viserys was obviously working on delivering on his promises, as all the people training to be warriors proved.

=Sith=​

Oberyn swaggered into the pyramid the Targaryens took as their own, followed by his companions. They all wore the best Dornish finery, more than suited for any Royal Court in existence. Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen met them in a large, well-lit audience chamber void of courtiers. Only Unsullied and five white cloaks were present, lining up the walls or standing guard beside the royals.

The Dornish Prince noted that his hosts had grown up since he saw them last. Then, they were young children who held a hint of potential if they were destined to live long enough. Back in Braavos, the Targaryens held no power. They were not dangerous.

Those were not the young Royals sitting on intricately carved wooden thrones and staring down the Red Viper without a care in the world. They both wore rich black and red clothes embroidered with the three-headed dragons of their House. Despite her clear Valyrian coloration, Oberyn could see hints of Rhaenys, which were all Targaryen in the young Princess. The shape of her eyes, her nose, and chin…

The Red Viper lowered his gaze and swallowed his building rage.

"Our Niece and nephew should have been here with us," Viserys said, and his simple words rang with truth.

Oberyn's head snapped up, and he stared at the young Prince. Beside him, the other Dornish were stiff like boards, unsure how to react.

"The Iron Throne should have been Aegon's. Perhaps his and Rhaenys' both," Viserys continued, stressing the Targaryen's custom of marrying into the family. "Tywin Lannister murdered them to put his blood on the Iron Throne. If I have anything to say about it, he will live to see us turn his legacy to ash."

A demented smile fit to match the craziest of Ulliers stretched the Red Viper's lips. He suddenly found out he cared not for any slights Viserys might have given him. They were speaking the same language, after all.

"Prince Viserys," for once in his life, Oberyn bowed with no care in the world. "Princes Daenerys, seeing you healthy and prosperous is heartening!"

Viserys eyes blazed like a dragon, burning with power. Oberyn had no trouble believing many of the tall tales about the Sorcerer Prince when an unnatural chill spread through the chamber, and the shadows in its corners came alive.

"We share bonds of blood and vengeance, Prince Oberyn. Yet, like almost everyone else in Westeros, there was no trace of the Dornish in our hour of need."

Ah, that. It made sense then, but the Targaryens were clearly unhappy with everyone's past decisions. Even Daenerys, as young as she was, smiled a bitter smile at her brother's words.

Oberyn opened his mouth to speak Doran's words. He was about to say that the Dornish kept searching for the Targaryens when they learned of Ser Darry's death and the royals' flight. The Red Viper glanced at the hissing shadows, felt chill seep into his bones, and decided that Doran was too clever for their own good.

The Prince of Dorne was a gambling man, so he took a gamble.

"I have no excuses, my Prince," he admitted and felt the gazes of his compatriots bore into his back. That wasn't how they agreed to do things, and the Red Viper didn't care. "All I can say for certain is that we couldn't have brought you in Dorne. The Usurper would have never stopped until he saw you dead, and we wouldn't have been able to protect you. A war to break us would have had sufficient support among the Lannisters and the Reach to make up for any divided loyalties or the depletion of the rebel armies. In his infinite wisdom, my brother decided that the two of you only represented a potential we couldn't be seen nurturing. You would have made something of yourselves, making you worthy of Dornish support, or House Targaryen would have died with you."

Viserys burning eyes bore into Oberyn's very soul, making the Red Viper glad he didn't mention the secret betrothal between Arianne and the Sorcerer. He was hoping his compatriots would also keep their mouths shut on the topic.
"Vows of fealty. Bonds of blood," Viserys chuckled bitterly, and the living shadows slowly devouring all the light in the audience chamber grew more ravenous. "A kinslayer sits on my family's throne. A Lannister is a Queen over the spilled blood of my family. When it mattered most, blood and vows were worth nothing. So tell me, Prince Oberyn, why are you here, claiming kinship?"

"I can tell you why my brother sent me. I can also tell you why I initially came. And I will. But the reason why I am here now is simple. It has nothing to do with politics or the Game of Thrones back home. It is simple. Blood for blood until the Lannisters are gone, and the Usurper rues the day he sat on my Nephew's throne!" The Red Viper's voice dripped deadly venom.

"Then we have an understanding, Prince Oberyn," Visery stood up and smiled a terrible smile. "Come, we have much to discuss."

The living shadows hissed in vindication before retreating. The chill dissipated, leaving the audience chamber as it was when the Dornish arrived.

 

[Illuviar]

AN: At the end, Marwyn might be right on the money, or he might be seeing conspiracies where there are none.

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 7 Part 5

=Sith=​

291 AC
Temple of the Great Shepherd
Lhazar

News of Astapor's fall spread through Slaver's Bay and beyond like wildfire thrown in a dry forest. It took a bit longer for brave traders and the odd Khalasar prowling between Meereen and the Lhazar to carry rumors and more to the lush steppes. Marwyn was teaching godswives anatomy and Westerosi healing methods in the Temple of the Great Shepherd while, in turn, learning all they had to offer.

A few priestesses had traveled far and wide, even visiting Asshai. Mirri Maz Duur was one such woman who recently returned from her own long journey to gain knowledge.

Marwyn eagerly taught her all he knew in exchange for tips on magic, shadowbinding, and everything else she was willing to share. Lately, Miri has been teaching everyone willing to listen about herb lore as practiced by the Dothraki. Meanwhile, he was helping the woman improve her Common Tongue.

The Maester greatly appreciated the time spent among the Lhazareen people – it was peaceful here as long as the Dothraki didn't raid them, and even the infamous horse lords dared not sack the Temple of the Great Shepherd, for their Khals sometimes needed accomplished healers.

In fact, Khal Chago's Khalasar, fresh from Meereen, brought stunning news instead of mere rumors about some sorcerer taking Astapor. Chago was an unusual Dothraki warrior, wiser than most, and proof that you couldn't fit whole people in a simple mold. In that regard, he was similar to Rodrick the Reader, Lord of Harlaw, who was anything but a normal Ironborn reaver.

Chago cared about his people more than was typical for the Dothraki, earning him the undying loyalty of thousands of warriors. At the same time, his temperate nature meant that he avoided taking risks and opportunities for glory that almost every other Khal would have seized without considering the price. Consequently, Chago had a small, tight-knit Khalasar and was often a target for Khals, with many more warriors following them.

The Khal was rather infamous, from what Marwyn learned, and honestly, he might have thrived if he had been born in another culture. Instead, he was a target and still lives only thanks to his great cunning and the Stranger's luck.

A few months ago, Chago's Khalasar apparently barely survived a skirmish with a much larger Dothraki horde led by the aging Khal Bharbo. That saw them diminished to a few thousand warriors, now responsible for nearly three times their numbers in wives, children, and slaves. Deserters seeking glory further diminished Chago's Khalasar, leaving only his utterly loyal warriors behind.

This Dothraki horde might have been on its last legs and destined for destruction, yet Marwyn wouldn't know it by walking among them. After they had camped around the Temple and requested medical aid in exchange for gold and goods, the Maester was among the first to accept the offer for curiosity's sake, if no other reason. That was how Marwyn learned Chago's unusual story.

Everyone who still followed their Khal was proud of it. Bloodriders, warriors, women, and children were all utterly convinced that Chago would find a way out of their predicament so they wouldn't end up as a part of the Khalasar of a less caring Khal.

Marwyn kept his thoughts to himself and instead asked all the questions he could think of. This was a priceless opportunity to learn about Dothraki culture, especially an exception to the stereotype!

"You've heard news of Astapor?" Marwyn asked a Bloodrider with an infected wound across his chest. Herbs gathered by Dothraki women and medicine bought at Meereen had kept the slash from festering too bad and killing the man. Nevertheless, the wound was red and weeping pus, weakening him and would eventually kill him if left as it was.

The Maester used all the knowledge he gained in Essos and the Citade to clean, threat, and bind the slash, giving the warrior a fighting chance. He even sang a spell taught by the people in Asshai that Miri taught him. Her primary focus had been birthing songs to aid midwives in their work. However, she also learned a healing chant or two and taught the Maester how to properly sing. Using one of those on the Bloodrider couldn't possibly hurt.

"Sorcerer took that city!" The Dorthaki blurted out. The man was a bit feverish and not entirely coherent, making it a minor miracle he managed to ride all the way to Meereen after being wounded and then to the Temple without falling off his horse. "They speak of a red and black Dragon!"

That certainly got Marwyn's attention. He was eager to learn more and kept asking his other patients pointed questions.

"A Targaryen they call him!"

"A Westerosi like you took the Unsullied and Astapor!"

"He murdered all the Good Masters with foul sorcery!"

Marwyn heard more rumors and fearmongering than possible truth until he got to speak with a hale Bloodrider, who had been paying attention in Meereen.

"I've heard it all," the Dothraki spoke in broken but comprehensive Bastard Valyrian. "A Targaryen Prince, Viserys took Astapor in a single night. I've been there and seen the walls. A proper Khalasar can storm it easily, but that doesn't matter. The boy proved himself by taking the Unsullied from the Good Masters and conquering the city that way," the Bloodwarrior scrunched his nose in distaste. "He proved himself queer by liberating all slaves," a head covered with braids and bells shook, making them jingle." The Meereene don't like it at all. They were trading extensively with Astapor, buying all kinds of slaves instead of taking them for themselves," he scoffed.

Marwyn nodded sagely and sipped a fermented mare's milk. While the taste was terrible, it wasn't like he could refuse if he wanted to loosen people's lips and learn more.

=Sith=​

Khal Chago and his Khalasar left two weeks later. By then, Marwyn had ample opportunity to put his new knowledge to good use. He determined he had learned all he could from the Lhazareen. It was time for the Maester to plan the next part of his journey. Marwyn already intended to visit Slaver's Bay and take a ship to Qarth from there before finally returning to Westeros. By the time he visited the Jade Gates and got back, the Maester would have spent about eight years away from the Citadel, broadening his knowledge.

Now, he had to go to Astapor and visit its Sorcerer ruler, especially if everyone was talking about Viserys Targaryen. Marwyn knew that there was power in King's blood. There was fire in the dragonlord's veins, even if they lost their dragons centuries ago. His time in Essos made that crystal clear. Only magic fading from the world made it difficult for various sorcerers and warlocks to track down the last Targaryens and use them in foul rituals.

If Viserys had awakened magic in his blood and could wield it, Marwyn had to find the boy before anyone else could get to him. The last Targaryens needed to know what dangers lurked all over Essos and, perhaps more importantly, the kind of snake pit ready to destroy them in Westeros.

Marwyn knew it wasn't as simple as the Citadel being against the Targaryens and magic in general. However, many of his fellow Knights of the Mind had no use for unreliable things like magic and sorcery. Such people believed the world was better without magic, so they could all live in an age of reason. While others were keen on unearthing ancient mysteries or didn't care either way, some wanted magic gone. They feared and loathed those with magic in their blood, like the Targaryens and the Starks.

 

[Illuviar]

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 7 Part 6

=Sith=​

291 AC
Astapor

Oberyn made himself comfortable on a wooden stool covered with cushions. Viserys led them to a solar deep within the pyramid, where the air was cool and pleasant. Shafts built into the walls illuminated the place during the day and pulled smoke from torches and braziers out of the room.

Like in most of Dorne, the climate in Astapor was sweltering at best during the day and could be more than chilling at night. Servants lit up a few braziers for warmth and more illumination, brought food and drink, then made themselves scarce. Of the so-called Royal Guard, only Ser Lonmouth remained, standing behind the Targaryens, who sat on probably the most comfortable chairs in the room.

The Red Viper had to remind himself that this wasn't a show of trust. Not after Viserys' display of magical might in the audience chamber. It has been a very long time since Oberyn wasn't the most dangerous creature everywhere he went. This was both refreshing and a little bit disturbing.

Daemon and Ser Uller also sat down and chose to pour themselves lemon water. They had the presence of mind to comprehend the Dornish needed clear heads before Viserys. Oberyn poured himself the same beverage and smiled at the silver goblets offered by their hosts. Many poisons would react with silver, staining it… and the best were tasteless anyway. The Red Viper saluted Viserys with his goblet and pointedly drank.

The lemon water was well done – there was just enough juice to make it taste fresh and the right kind of bitter.

"Prince Oberyn, about a year before Ser Darry died, we hosted the commanders of the Golden Company," Viserys spoke first. "We wined and dined them and offered gifts like it was appropriate. Then they laughed in our faces."

The Princess's face scrunched in a displeased grimace at that reminder. Without even glancing at his sister, Viserys raised his arm and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"When we needed the support of any loyalist the most, there were only daggers in the dark coming for us," the Sorcerer smiled thinly. "And now you are here. So why did you come, Prince Oberyn? Why did your brother send you to us now that we no longer need scraps to just survive?"

Oberny mentally patted himself on the back for not mentioning the secret betrothal between the Sorcerer Prince and Arianne. Considering Viserys' bitterness over everyone abandoning the last Targaryens, that damn document would be a slap in the face. It would earn Dorne nothing but headaches. It would be better to have it burned and never mention it.

"When I visited you years ago, Ser Darry and I discussed a potential betrothal between you and my niece Arriane," the Red Viper carefully measured his words. He was determined to speak only the truth just in case Viserys had some magical way to divine when someone bullshitted him in the face.

The Prince of Astapor looked less than pleased by that revelation. The shadows in the solar shifted and deepened while the air chilled most unpleasantly. Only Daenerys seemed undisturbed. If anything, she sighed in contentment at the magic moving around them.

"I am here because I thirst for vengeance, Prince Viserys. My brother wants our sister, nephew, and niece avenged as well. However, he has higher priorities," The Red Viper admitted. That shouldn't have been a revelation, yet Daemon shifted in his seat. Ser Ulwyck just sipped his lemon water, revealing nothing. "Doran is the Ruling Prince of Dorne, and that's his burden to bear."

"Your brother wants his blood on the Iron Throne. That is his price for Dornish support, isn't it?" Viserys smiled pleasantly. "He wants Dorne to be the power behind a Targaryen Restoration. To be the power behind the throne."

The shadows stilled, yet the chill in the air deepened, making the solar colder than the worst winter night in the open desert. Oberyn could see his breath come out as vapor. His skin prickled as the unnatural chill seeped into his blood and bones.

"I am not for sale, Prince Oberyn. Anyone suggesting that Dany is for sale will die screaming, am I clear?" Viserys' eyes glowed with power.

At that moment, the Red Viper was utterly convinced that all those stories and japes about the Valyrians having dragon blood in their veins and perhaps even laying with their dragons were true. This wasn't a mere man glowering at Oberyn but a predator like no other. He was in the presence of a hungry dragon and about to become a snack. Primal terror pushed on Oberyn's mind, robbing him of his valor.

The Red Viper sighed in relief when the pressure lifted, making him feel lighter. It was suddenly easier to breathe and somehow brighter, even if shadows still devoured most of the flickering light across the solar.

"I wasn't going to suggest you sell your sister for support…" Oberyn cursed himself when his response came out as a stammer.

A silver eyebrow raised at the words uttered by the Dornish Prince.

"How magnanimous of you, Prince Oberyn," Viserys didn't quite scoff at him. "When I finally come for the Iron Throne, I will appreciate Dornish support. You know very well that I am the only one who will give you the vengeance you desire, for my heart burns to taste it as well!" The Sorcerer's words rang with truth.

At that, the Red Viper relaxed a bit.

"Let me be clear on this point so there are no possible misunderstandings, Prince Oberyn. When I return home for vengeance and the throne my ancestors forged, it will be a Second Conquest, not a restoration! Most Targaryen Loyalists worthy of the title died in Cousin Robert's Usurpation or bent the knee and spat on their oaths. I will return to Westeros when I have the army and navy to take it without needing the support of people who have proved themselves false!"

Oberyn should have laughed at those words. They should have been childish and overly naive. However, he saw what Viserys was doing with Astapor mere months after taking the city. Even now, he could feel angry magic stirring throughout the solar. What was unthinkable before he left Dorne to come here was now a distinct possibility.

"You can't build and support a large enough army and navy with just what you have now," the Red Viper countered. "Astapor is the smallest city in the region. I've seen some of the settlements that support it. They aren't going to be of much help either. Unless you wish to take your army and navy, abandon this place and its people, and conquer without support, it won't work. You will need more allies… or…" the Red Viper trailed off.

Oberyn heard Viserys' envoys to New Ghis. He listened to what his people were talking about in the streets and, thus, what everyone visiting would know. Viserys wasn't preparing for an offensive war in Slaver's Bay. He was consolidating his position and preparing the defenses of Astapor for when he went to reclaim his throne, or so it seemed.

The Red Viper laughed. "Are you sure you are not Dornish, Your Grace?" Oberyn exclaimed, "Astapor is merely a stepping stone!"

"Slavers are seeing what I am doing with my city, Prince Oberyn," Viserys noted. "Now, it is only a question of time before some of them move against us. They will see me remaking Astapor into a second Braavos, aimed like a dagger at the heart of the slave trade. I won't have to start a war and prove myself a liar. The only question is which among my neighbors will begin hostilities first."

"You are going to take Slaver's Bay and use it to forge yourself the kind of military might needed to conquer Westeros," Oberyn concluded.

Behind him, Daemon whistled in appreciation at the idea.

"It might work if you can hold Slaver's Bay long enough, Your Grace," Uller added.

"Which brings us back to you," Viserys eyes glowered in amusement. Suddenly, he resembled a cat, nay, a dragon, ready to play with its food. "I am willing to work with Dorne for vengeance's sake if nothing else. I might be willing to give your concessions for our murdered kin once I sit on the Iron Throne. I will give you the vengeance we all crave. But until then, what use are you to me? It will be years before I am ready to return to Westeros, perhaps over a decade. You can't afford to back me up openly until then. Logistics and travel times alone make that certain. If you support me now, you will stand alone against the rest of Westeros."

The Red Viper wanted to bare his fangs at that, yet even he knew Viserys' words for the truth they were.

"Official support will be too much," Oberyn reluctantly admitted. "Perhaps trade? We have decent cavalry excelling in desert conditions, and from what I saw, you lack such strength, Prince Viserys. Would you be willing to buy Sand Steeds and host horsemen to train your people as cavalry?"

"Do you have the authority to offer such trade?" Viserys countered.

"Negotiating a secret betrothal between you and my niece can open all kinds of doors that will otherwise remain closed until you can return to Westeros. What we can offer now for gold and what we can risk to see Martell blood on the Iron Throne are very different things. That is how my brother will see things anyway," Oberyn pointed out, admitting the limits of what he could negotiate.

"It is a long way to bring horses from Dorne," Viserys noted. "If private merchants decide to risk such a journey, I can promise to reward them richly for their trouble. The same goes for any Dornish knight or horseman who might wish to visit Astapor and make good coin as a trainer."

"There is one thing that I can offer, which the rest of Dorne and even my brother can't," Oberyn decided. "My daughter Nymeria, her mother is quite fond of us," the Red Viper smiled, showing his fangs. "She is a Volanteese noblewoman. How does a connection with the Old Blood behind the Black Walls of Volantis sound?"

"Dany can always use another Lady in waiting and a bodyguard until she is sufficiently proficient with weapons and sorcery. After that, you can use another friend, can't you sister?" Viserys offered.

"On the way back to Sunspear, we will stop at Volantis to replenish our supplies and allow our crews to rest. I will make inquiries and offer introductions to any envoy you might decide to send with us," Oberyn suggested. I will also discuss matters with Nymeria when I am back home."

"That's an interesting offer, Prince Oberyn, one I will be a fool to refuse. Let us eat and drink while you tell me what kind of mess the Usurper and his cronies have made of the Kingdom my House built," with those words, Viserys fully reined in his magic, allowing Oberyn to relax.

 

[Illuviar]

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 8 Part 1

=Sith=​

291 AC
Meereen

It was rare for all the Great Masters of Meereen to meet together. Rivalries, feuds, and political and economic interests ensured that their different factions rarely needed, much less wanted, to come to the same place and mingle, no matter the reason.

Weddings, funerals, great Khalasars approaching the walls, and much more required only representatives of the factions to come together and make the necessary decisions while keeping the more volatile Great Masters away.

For months, Astapor's fall was no different. The Targaryen Prince, who broke ages-old customs, was willing to talk and trade instead of leading a campaign of conquest. Viserys Targaryen wasn't crusading against slavery; besides, Yunkai shielded Meereen from the Valyrian's reach.

Still, there was no faction among the Great Masters willing to trade with the upstart. Making him more powerful through commerce was out of the question. Besides, in some way, the fall of Astapor and the Good Masters was beneficial to Meereen's slave trade. Demand didn't diminish that much, and supply decreased, increasing prices and profits.

All should have been well.

That happy state of affairs persisted until Yunkai's envoys returned from Astapor, shocking the Masters over there. News spread like a locust swarm and soon reached all corners of Meereen. Even the most self-absorbed Great Masters heard of what Viserys was doing with the slaves he liberated. The great slaver families of Meereen had no choice but to gather and discuss their city's future! The future of the great trade itself might be at stake!

"Tell us, good man, what horrors did you see in Astapor?" Oznak zo Pahl spoke in the stead of his uncle, the wealthiest man in Meereen.

The Pahl patriarch was ailing. It was only a question of time before control of the family fell into the hands of Oznak and his father, the commander of the City Watch, for old man Pahl had sired a legion of daughters but no sons. The young noble's other uncles simply lacked the hard power to make a bid for control of House Pahl.

Agnak zo Ghaqa stood tall and proud, facing the Great Masters. He was a Wise Master of Yunkai with a noble lineage stretching back at least a thousand years. A richly decorated silk tokar kept him cool, while a cloak jingling with bronze disks displayed his station and wealth for all to see. The more disks a Wise Master was allowed to sew in their cloak, the more powerful and wealthy their House was.

"The Sorcerer Viserys feeds us honeyed words, which mean nothing! It matters not if his ambition and appetites are focused on the barbaric Westeros alone or if he will come for us first!" Agnak's voice rang throughout the great hall of the greatest pyramid in Meereen, which was full to bursting.

Those words were enough to gain everyone's attention.

"I've seen what Viserys is doing in Astapor! He is reshaping one of our cities into a second Braavos! Freed slaves prowl the streets! They train day and night as warriors! I've seen their hatred, and it is focused on us all, Great Masters! It doesn't matter what the Sorcerer wishes or intends! What he buys is anathema to our very way of life! His army of liberated slaves will sooner or later turn on us! They are a dagger ready to slit the arteries of the great trade we all rely upon!"

Many of the Great Masters reacted like struck. This was the kind of danger only Braavos was known for, and that cursed city was very far away. You could get to Astapor in less than two sennights of hard riding. Viserys Targaryen and his mad ways were practically right around the corner!

"Such unnatural things can't be allowed to stand!" A Loraq scion shouted.

"The Sorcerer is a greedy and covetous creature!" An unfamiliar voice rose above the others. "I am a Good Master, one of the last of our exalted kind! I was at the Plaza of Pride when the Sorcerer used foul magic to murder two of us and steal the Unsullied! He gleefully stripped us of our pride and hard-won wealth! We had to beggar ourselves to earn the privilege of an exile! How long do you believe his greed will be sated with Astapor alone!? How long before he comes demanding you all ruin yourselves so he might let you live?!"

Shouts of support met that proclamation.

Oznak zo Pahl smilled. For too long, the Ghiscari had forgotten their roots, enjoying decadent, empty lives. Those among the nobility hungry for change and glory were few and far between. They were always young scions like him, usually unlikely to inherit much. Most of his people were content to waste their lives toying with slaves when they could be at the forefront of a resurgent Ghiscari Empire! New Ghis showed everyone the way, and now, a bastard Valyrian took Astapor, reshaping the city with mere liberated slaves!

How couldn't his people see this as a grand opportunity to grasp destiny by the throat and forge a glorious future? Oznak would never know. But that didn't matter! He saw this opportunity for what it was and would be damned if he didn't seize it!

Hizdahr zo Lora, an up-and-coming merchant who might soon be one of the wealthiest among the nobility of Meereen, stood from his seat, and everyone calmed down. Hizdahr had many friends across the various Great Master factions, which, combined with his cunning, explained how he rose so far and kept reaping more and more riches.

"We all profit from the great trade. We depend on it! There is no point in pretending otherwise," the merchant spoke softly but clearly. "Astapor's fall is a boon to our coffers. However, that good fortune won't last. We all know how Braavosi ships hunt down slavers and liberate precious cargo. There are no slaves within the reach of their armies, and we are not shielded by distance like Pentos, so empty words and gestures could protect us. We can not have a second Braavos rise at our doorsteps! Astapor is not a far-off place on the other end of Essos; months of sailing away! It is right here, in our own Slaver's Bay!"

Oznak nodded in agreement like everyone else. As it was his wont, Hizdahr spoke sense. The young noble didn't watch the merchant speak but instead focused on the other young scions hungry for glory, blood, and fame. Many of his compatriots appeared more alive now than in any other time and place save when fighting in the pits or fucking in the Pleasure Palaces.

"The forever cursed Valyrians saw distant Braavos as no threat when it first rose, for they had hundreds of dragons! Our Empire is long gone! We can afford ourselves no such luxury. We have no dragons and no Iron Legions!" Hizdahr kept bringing up good points.

Oznak met his father's gaze. The Commander of the City Watch gave him a slight nod of approval. Oznak had the backing he needed then, and through his father, he had House Pahl, no matter what his sick uncle might have wanted. The old man had the luxury of dying in peace, drowning in pleasure slaves. Oznak craved more, so much more than he could put in simple words.

"Astapor represents a danger that goes beyond Meereen. Every city save for damned Braavos is threatened by the Sorcerer's actions, if not intent," Oznak spoke again. "We are not the only ones set to lose greatly if this threat persists. Yunkai, New Ghis, and even Elyria and Tolos will choke if Astapor strangles the great trade! We don't have to spend treasure alone when Viserys Targaryen endangers everyone! Let us drown him and this second Braavos in mercenaries and slave soldiers so everyone remembers the order of the world!"

Oznak knew that mere words wouldn't be enough. Not today, this week, or even in the coming months. War, true war, was expensive. Astapor had thousands of Unsullied holding it, and to bring it down, those slave soldiers had to die. The Great Masters would have to pour their resources, buy the finest killers money could buy, and raise their own slave armies.

If the young noble had anything to say about it, Meereen would take this opportunity to form and raise its own Iron Legions, reclaiming the glories and power of the old Empire!

The Sorcerer of Astapor witlessly offered Oznak an opportunity for greatness, and he wasn't going to waste it, for a chance like this came once in a generation at best!

 

[Idirexii]

Can Viserys use the Force to infiltrate enemy cities and war camp to assassinate the enemy leadership?
How about brainwashing captives and releasing them as saboteurs?
Can the enemy counter Viserys with Maegi of their own?

 

[Illuviar]

Can Viserys use the Force to infiltrate enemy cities and war camp to assassinate the enemy leadership?
How about brainwashing captives and releasing them as saboteurs?
Can the enemy counter Viserys with Maegi of their own?

Click to shrink...

Yes on the first. He has no natural aptitude for the second, so it's going to take months of on and off work to subvert people through the Force. That's what he is doing with the Green Grace who he took as a lover.

Once they're aware of the danger, adequate magical support should be able to harden targets against Viserys simply cloaking himself with the Force, slipping through the guards, and murdering his way through enemy commanders. Such magical support might be light on the ground before Viserys and Daenerys hatch dragons and magic begins to properly return to Planetos.

That is one of the primary reasons why Viserys is highly unlikely to lose a battle he is leading. His military woes will begin once he has larger territory and multiple cities under his control, and can still be in only one place at a time. Then enemy armies can avoid him, while sacrificial forces slow him down, or pin him in place, burn down the countryside, besiege and sack other cities, etc... weakening Viserys hopefully to the point where what military he has left led by him can be overwhelmed, if at very high cost. Ironically, the other side of that argument is why it's not the best idea for Viserys to initially simply shatter armies using the Force and letting his brand-new military mop up the remains, instead of allowing his forces to bloody themselves and become veterans though hands-on experience.

 

[Illuviar]

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 8 Part 2

=Sith=​

291 AC
Astapor

Training without slave masters yelling at you was different. His groin no longer hurt, which made enduring what each new day brought easier. He was among the last prospective Unsullied, bought and neutered by the Good Masters before Prince Viserys took Astapor and brought the slavers low. Part of him resented the Sorcerer for not arriving earlier, saving him from all the pain and becoming less of a man.

Yet, he was free now and had a choice. He could have striven to be anything else, that much their new Prince promised and toiled to deliver every day. In his experience, that by itself was more than any gods did for him or the countless other slaves in Astapor.

In the short time he was a prospective Unsullied-to-be, the youth wore a different name each day. He suffered his manhood being sacrificed to a goddess he wasn't worthy of learning the name of as of yet. He couldn't even remember the name his mother gave him so long ago before a slaver tore him out of her hands.

When Prince Viserys took Astapor and changed his world, he was Grey Worm, for he had been grey from dust since the previous night. For months, the youth couldn't make up his mind and instead kept joining his brothers in training to earn his place among the Unsullied. It took him that long to find a meaning of the Resol'nare that resonated with something deep within his heart.

He was Gray Worm. He would be a warrior. He wanted to carve his name into a legend marching beside Viserys, the Liberator, smiting slavers all over the world.

From that day on, Grey Worm threw himself into training to be the best warrior he could become with renewed vigor, for this was his choice instead of what the Good Masters demanded on the pain of death.

=Sith=​

291 AC
Volantis

The Golden Company spent two days properly setting up a camp for a potentially long recovery beyond the walls of Volantis before Myles Toyne gave his people a leave to go into the city and spend their gold. He was sure the locals would be even more welcoming than usual, for the Golden Company returned victorious after destroying the ambitions of yet another Dothraki Khal who dreamed of sacking Volantis' countryside before demanding a much larger tribute than usual.

Between mercenaries and Volantis' own military, such stunts tended to end bloody for everyone involved. It has been long since a Khal gathered enough strength for such stunts to receive any other response but blood and steel. The Golden Company made much gold when the Dothraki became too large for their britches in this part of the world.

Myles looked forward to a hot bath in a pillow house with curvy maidens helping him relax after the last campaign. From the officers, only that tightfist cunt Gorys Edoryen, the paymaster, would remain behind, officially overseeing the camp. Instead, Myles was sure that the bastard would be busy counting their pay from the city and sorting through loot, for that made him happier than the sweetest of wines and most experienced of whores.

"Captain-General, we must speak. Now!" Lysono Maar pushed his way into Toyne's tent just as the Blackheart was about to leave. The Lyseni spymaster threw away his hooded cloak with a nervous gesture, revealing his long, braided golden hair.

"More Dothraki?" Myles asked. Lysono was a veteran mercenary; he wouldn't be this concerned if there was no danger.

"We aren't that lucky. We've been out of the loop until we got back yesterday. I had enough time to speak with my spies and confirm their stories. We might have a problem."

Toyne sighed and waved the spymaster into a nearby chair. There was always some kind of headache to deal with since becoming Captain-General that others couldn't deal with.

"What has got your small clothes in a twist?" Myles demanded. He could already feel warm water over his skin and the caress of maidens. Whatever Maar was on about, it better be good!

"While we were hunting Dothraki, Viserys Targaryen took Astapor and crowned himself Prince of the city. He is confirmed to be somehow a powerful Sorcerer and has an army of Unsullied at his beck and call. As of last sennight, the Great Masters of Meereen are on the market for mercenaries to end free Astapor."

Myles blinked at the spymaster, trying to make sense of his words.

"Lysono, what have you been drinking? Can I have some? Or better yet, tell me so I can avoid it! That was a nice jape! Viserys Targaryen, a sorcerer! You got me going there for a moment!" Toyne laughed.

"Everyone in the city is talking about him. He apparently murdered his way through Pentos after a bunch of Westerosi threatened his sister. Then the Magisters paid him off handsomely to fuck off, and he went to conquer Astapor! I'm shitting you not, Captain-General."

Myles groaned and went to the nearest free chair, collapsing in it with a groan.

"You can ask anyone you want in the city! I did the same to ensure my spies haven't been compromised!" Maar added.

"You were right there with me a few years ago when we laughed in his face," Myles reminded his spymaster.

"He might have forgotten or not care now?" the Lyseni didn't sound convinced at all.

"Find everything you can about Viserys fucking Targaryen, what he is up to, and what people claim he can do now!" Blackheart ordered. "I want to know who pays to take him down and how much!"

"Do you want us to end the Targaryens if the gold is good enough?" Maar inquired.

"I am still trying to wrap my head around all the shit you just told me," Myles grumbled. "We might be able to work with Viserys. Or he might want our heads for spitting him."

Back then, the Targaryen cause was deader than the Blackfyres. Aerys the Mad burned it, Rhaegar fucked it, and Viserys had no one of consequence backing him. The boy's only chance was to join the Golden Company, prove himself, and make a name for himself. Only then might they have considered backing a restoration, especially if loyalists were willing to pay for the company's services.

Instead, that foolish boy requested that they restore him to the throne for rewards that would only come if they won.

And somehow, that boy was now a Sorcerer with an army and a city.

"We will rest, recover, and gather information. It might not matter what Viserys Targaryen is if enough of the Slaver Cities move against him. Is Meereen alone in seeking mercenaries?"

"Their representatives got here first last week. Ships from Yunkai, Elyria, and Tolos might still be on the way, and New Ghis is much further away," Maar pointed out.

"Then we will keep our ears open and bide our time," Mlyes decided. He got up and stretched. That pillow house and bath beckoned.

=Sith=​

291 AC
Elyria

Outside Volantis, Elyria was the last light left from the destroyed Valyrian Freehold. The city's first rulers after the doom were the Valyrians from the by-then-gone homeland, who married into prominent local families, shaping the city's nobility into what it is today.

It should have been no surprise that when Viserys Targaryen took Astapor months ago, Elyria was the only city in the region that received the news with more interest than fear. Nobles, merchants, and commoners alike might have had to mingle and intermarry with Ghiscari over the past centuries, but they never forgot their origins. Their Temples were those of the Fourteen Flames. Their looks were still more fair than not. Men and women with silver hair and purple eyes still called Elyria their home and mourned mother Valyria.

More importantly, when Viserys Targaryen took Astapor, he didn't do something as foolish as proclaiming a war on slavery despite his Westerosi upbringing. And at the end of the day, no matter what, the blood of the last dragonlords flowed in their veins. That the Targaryens lost their wings over a century ago mattered far less in that regard.

When the Prince of Astapor's envoys arrived, speaking of peace, trade, and eventual restoration in far-off Westeros, the Elyrian nobility listened. There was an opportunity for profit here, stirring the interest of the Merchant Houses.

When their other distant kin, Hizdahr zo Loraq, sent his own envoys speaking of a second Braavos and war to strangle that threat in its cradle, Elyria listened.

Elyria was divided. Keeping slaves was their right. It was the way of the ancient Freehold. Prince Viserys might not have intended to create a threat, yet did that matter? Astapor was changing in a way that couldn't be unmade without taking the city, enslaving its population, and scattering it to the winds. People didn't need Hizdahr zo Loraq to show them the way. Everyone who visited Astapor and had eyes to see, saw what Viserys was doing with his city.

On the other hand, it had been a very long time since the blood of Old Valyria flowed so strongly in anyone, much less a Dragonlord, even if one was without a dragon. There was no doubt that magic sang in Viserys' blood, and equally importantly, he could harness it.

Elyria's various factions gathered in the cool of night, discussing what was happening in Astapor and what it meant for them. Meanwhile, Priests and Priestess tended the Temples of the Fourteen Flames, praying for guidance.

The only answer they got was simple yet profound. For the first time since the last Targaryen dragon died, the altars remained warm even when no fire heated them, no matter how cold the nights became.

Ultimately, no matter how persuasive Hizdahr zo Loraq's allies could be, Elyria's nobility decided to bide their time, retain its neutrality, and wait to see the truth of Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen.

 

[Illuviar]

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 8 Part 3

=Sith=​

291 AC
Astapor

There was magic in Valyrian steel, especially when reforged into a weapon. Compared to the sword in his hands, any trinket made of the metal he had handled to date felt positively mundane. At the same time, the naked blade before him was simply lacking. Viserys simply knew it in his bones.

Nevertheless, the sword was better than any regular metal had the right to be. If Viserys didn't know better, he would consider it having a monomolecular edge, able to easily slice through all but the best armor. He could compare it well with vibroblades and heatswords. The Sith Warblade he used until he earned himself the right to wield a lightsaber was in some ways inferior in practice, but that was almost certainly the kind of high-end armor he encountered often enough in his youth. After all, there were armors able to resist lightsabers and military-grade blasters. Those were a far cry from the best protection a smith might forge here on Planetos.

From the few tests Viserys ran, his Valyrian Steel sword could even cut through a good plate with repeated strikes – something that would have been impossible for a regular sword.

Dany ceased peeling an orange and glanced at the sword her brother was absorbed in.

"For weeks now, you keep staring at that each evening as if you expect it to talk back," she chided.

"The metal is magical. It will retain a peerless edge, or at least should. Yet, this is no proper Valyrian Steel sword," Viserys repeated.

"I still can't sense whatever you are feeling, Visy. The magic is there; I can tell from here by looking at it. It makes my blood warm and fuzzy," Dany tore a piece of her orange. She began to chew it slowly, glowing happily at its taste. "But that's all. I've held your new sword; it's nice and all, but I can't tell if there's something wrong with it as a weapon, much less a magical sword."

Through the Force and the magic bubbling in his blood, Viserys could feel the energies contained in his weapon. They felt off, misaligned, and incomplete, or at least that was the best way he could put it into words. It was more of a feeling and a sense that things were off than certain knowledge.

He sighed, sheathed the sword, and put it on the table. Viserys summoned a cup with grapes and levitated one into his mouth. Dany pouted at him, for she had yet to master such deft displays of telekinetic control. Viserys knew that if he pushed harder with training his sister to use the Dark Side, she would progress faster. That way lay madness, especially when dealing with a young, hormonal teenager.

At any rate, Dany was advancing faster than any Jedi Padawan could hope to, and it was only her young age that held her back. Viserys suspected that his little sister would always be petite, requiring her to lean heavily on the Force for any feats of strength. Instead, he had his hands full in tailoring her training to focus on speed and agility, which suited her body type.

"Haven't you found anything useful on Valyrian magic in the libraries you looted?" Dany asked after she finished with her orange. "Even if the ancient Force we have is what you can teach me for sure, I would love to learn different magic as well. It's in our blood, you know?" she waved a hand in an uneasy gesture.

Whatever happened when they were sailing past Valyria awoke something within the two of them, making them earn for more… whatever that more was. Perhaps it was knowledge of Valyrian blood magic. Or, like Dany liked to say, their wings. Maybe it was both.

"I am unsure if we can find answers before we are ready to explore the ruins of Old Valyria," Viserys pointed out.

Dany's expression fell at that, and her Force signature dulled in dejection. "And we won't be ready for years, and then we have to be able to leave everything without supervision for months on end…" she grumbled.

"Even with all the power at our fingertips, we won't always get what we want. The Force and the universe as a whole always get to vote, remember this Little Dragon. Accept this truth; otherwise, it will keep pricking at you, pushing you to grasp for more of the Dark Side than you can handle. The Force is ours to command and wield, not the other way around," Viserys lectured.

"I will have to keep trading control and even my sanity for power for the next few years, at the very least. I don't like it. It's great at the moment, but I even attacked you without thinking, Visy! I don't want to fight you for real, much less when I'm not in control!"

"The slow path is not an option for us, I am sad to say, Dany. I've explained to you how it works. We simply have too many enemies and not enough time, and we will have even more people after us in the future. Besides, going any faster with your training will only make it worse."

"I don't have to like it!"

"You are still just two and ten, sister. It is your right not to like your lessons."

=Sith=​

The following day, Daenerys faced off against Ser Richard. Practice swords struck each other with the sound of wood slamming into wood. Dany kept drawing on the force to strengthen her limbs and make herself faster and more agile. The knight wore a chain and plate that didn't seem to slow him down. Without the Force, Dany knew she would have lost within moments. Instead, she kept parrying and deflecting deadly strikes, often using their momentum to deftly reposition and counter-attack. Lonmouth dodged or left her sword to skip off the plate parts of his armor, which would be immune to any blade that wasn't Valyrian Steel. Regular swords couldn't slice through his chainmail, so anything but a solid thrust was something he could ignore.

"You've been training her for less than a year?" the Red Viper observed.

For Oberyn, this was the first time he saw Princess Daenerys train with weapons. However, he got a glimpse or two of her levitating objects with magic. He had seen nothing like that before and could appreciate how practical such use of magic could be. When Daenerys grew more proficient with it, she should be able to brain someone with a piece of debris lying around without lifting a finger. Oh, if only Elia could do something like that…. Then it wouldn't have mattered how sickly his sister was; she might have been able to walk away from the Sack of King's Landing.

"You weren't really here just now," Prince Viserys' words focused Oberyn's mind.

"Just wishful thinking, Your Grace," the Dornish Prince admitted.

"My goodsister and the children?"

"If Elia could do this…" Oberyn trailed off and shook his head. Or if he had been there, in King's Landing, when his sister needed him. Or if Rhaegar hadn't been a fool… Or Aerys Mad…, there were too many what-ifs.

"Vengeance is best served cold, especially if you have a way to properly warm it up," Viserys shared.

"Is that some obscure Valyrian wisdom I haven't heard concerning dragon fire?"

"That too," Viserys lips twitched in a hint of a smile. "To answer your earlier question, I began training Dany properly on the voyage here from Pentos, and that was just light knife work and physical conditioning. I started her on proper training with the ancient magic that awoke in us after securing Astapor."

"Can you teach others?" the Red Viper inquired. Like his daughters.

"You need to have this kind of magic awakened in you; otherwise, there is nothing to teach. We are living proof that it can be done, but I have no idea what rituals our ancestors used to make it possible. I can tell you what to do, how to do it, and demonstrate, but without the magic in you to use, it is a waste of time."

"That's unfortunate," Oberyn allowed. He had no idea if Viserys was telling him the truth. At any rate, Oberyn would keep his eyes open and do his best to replicate what the last Targaryens were doing. He should have nothing to lose but a bit of time if Viserys was right, and he would have ample time on the voyage back to Sunspear.

"We will be leaving tonight with the tide. We stayed long enough already," Oberyn said. "Have you thought about my offers, Your Grace?"

"I won't turn back any honest Dornish merchants. Any of your people willing to work in Astapor will be welcome as long as they follow my laws. There will be no betrothals. For your people's sake, I hope that when we return to Westeros, we won't find them on the opposite side of the battlefield."

By now, it was painfully clear that Viserys was unconcerned by the prospect of facing Dornish spears. That should have been hubris, yet… the young man didn't intend to return without an army that could conquer the Seven Kingdoms. If he could muster such a host, the Dornish military would make little difference outside of Dorne. Things would undoubtedly have been different if Viserys hadn't been a Sorcerer training his sister to be his match. But in that case, they wouldn't be having this conversation anyway.

"I can't and won't speak for my brother, Prince Viserys. However, when you come for the Lannisters and Baratheons thirsting for vengeance, you will have my spear by your side," The Red Viper decided. He hoped that Doran would act and give Dorne the revenge it hungered for, but if not, he would have his pound of flesh fighting beside this Sorcerer-Prince.

"We have an understanding then. I can sense your determination and rage, Prince Oberyn. It matches my own," Viserys offered him a genuine smile. "I wish you a fortune in the wars to come."

"You are already making your own fortune for the coming wars, aren't you?" The Red Viper laughed merrily. "The same to you, Young Dragon. When you come for Westeros, many in Dorne will wish you fortune, no matter what my brother decides."

 

[Bedpotato]

Oh boy, the slavers bay is about to discover, why the goody two shoes jedi, considered genocide a viably answer to the existence of the sith! Hell i know that from their perspective killing viserys and astapors freed slave population to a man is a good idea. the earlier the better but that doesn't change the fact viserys is going to eat these weekend warriors with their slave armies as breakfast!

As for the eventual danyXViseryis romance? The Valyrians, did it for 5000 years that is so mindboggling long that you can safely ignore all the naysayer as this is supported by canon as healthy dragonlord behavior! Thanks for writing this. PS: Now the question is if Doran is going for the trading and trainer part or if he feels slighted by Viserys?

 

[silentorphan]

At any rate, Dany was advancing faster than any Jedi Padawan could hope to,

Click to shrink...

Shouldn't Delkatar be comparing her to a Sith Apprentice? (Or is it "Acolyte"? ) Anyway, it's just that him using a Jedi Padawan as a measuring stick seems weird--he should be more familiar with the Sith side.

 

[Bedpotato]

Shouldn't Delkatar be comparing her to a Sith Apprentice? (Or is it "Acolyte"? ) Anyway, it's just that him using a Jedi Padawan as a measuring stick seems weird--he should be more familiar with the Sith side.

Click to shrink...

You missunderstand, THE darkside training will always be far faster than lightside training! A padawan takes a decade plus of daily training and meditation from childhood on, while a sith needs less than a year off intense study to get on the same level or stronger(It is arguably much more dangerous and you are not guarantied to survive with your mind and sanity intact)

Edit: Also mostz sith alcolytes on the academy took about the same amount of time to learn the same stuff with minor variance, (Depending on emotional spectrum of the individuals and personal tolerances for shit!) Padawans instead can range from 10 year old kids to 20+ year old adults!

 

[Illuviar]

Oh boy, the slavers bay is about to discover, why the goody two shoes jedi, considered genocide a viably answer to the existence of the sith! Hell i know that from their perspective killing viserys and astapors freed slave population to a man is a good idea. the earlier the better but that doesn't change the fact viserys is going to eat these weekend warriors with their slave armies as breakfast!

As for the eventual danyXViseryis romance? The Valyrians, did it for 5000 years that is so mindboggling long that you can safely ignore all the naysayer as this is supported by canon as healthy dragonlord behavior! Thanks for writing this. PS: Now the question is if Doran is going for the trading and trainer part or if he feels slighted by Viserys?

Click to shrink...

Well, from where the smarter slaver stand, taking out Astapor once their envoys saw what Viserys is doing with the place is rational. Even if he leaves for Westeros with the most of the military, the place will still be packed with freed slaves trained as warriors left to their own devices, fortified to hell and back and with expended industry. That's Braavos MK 2 in the heart of Slaver's Bay, and the slave trade. Its very existence will be a deadly threat in the long run.

Shouldn't Delkatar be comparing her to a Sith Apprentice? (Or is it "Acolyte"? ) Anyway, it's just that him using a Jedi Padawan as a measuring stick seems weird--he should be more familiar with the Sith side.

Click to shrink...

You missunderstand, THE darkside training will always be far faster than lightside training! A padawan takes a decade plus of daily training and meditation from childhood on, while a sith needs less than a year off intense study to get on the same level or stronger(It is arguably much more dangerous and you are not guarantied to survive with your mind and sanity intact)

Edit: Also mostz sith alcolytes on the academy took about the same amount of time to learn the same stuff with minor variance, (Depending on emotional spectrum of the individuals and personal tolerances for shit!) Padawans instead can range from 10 year old kids to 20+ year old adults!

Click to shrink...

While Viserys is training Dany with the Darkside, but he isn't going all in on the Sith training for two reasons - she is too young, and he wants her to emerge sane on the other side. In no small part due to the Dark Side being the fast path to power so to speak. The Sith didn't usually take eleven years olds as Acolytes, much less proper Apprentices.

Generally speaking, at that age, children of Sith Dynasties would still be undergoing more or less standard physical and weapons training, intense education, and basic training on how to utilize the Force in general and the Dark Side in particular. Proper Academy and Sith training would usually commence when they're no longer hormonal teenagers, which is not a good combination when learning to deal with the Dark Side. The Sith Academies were not really set up to deal with teenagers without a guaranteed high attrition rate due to emotional instability of teenagers alone, before taking in account everything else.

Training by family members who wants to emerge as a competent sane-ish Sith on the other side, would be far more careful, slower and involved, rarer too due to the time investment required. For most Sith, the reasonable choice would be to do the above - give their children the knowledge and basic training, the tools they need to survive in the Sith Academy, and when they're stable enough emotionally, throw them at Korriban for training until they prove themselves worthy of becoming someone's Apprentice.

 

[Illuviar]

AN: Obligatory reminder, slavery in Essos is consistently depicted in a way that makes the worst IRL excesses in that regard often look tame in comparison.

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 8 Part 4

=Sith=​

291 AC
in the vicinity of Astapor

After taking the city, Viserys seldom left Astapor. Most of those trips didn't carry him far beyond the wall. They concluded on pleasure barges sailing the Worm River, where one of his supporters invited him and Dany to entertain them or in inspections of the area around the city so he could better plan its defense.

Today, it was the river, its bridges, and crossings that brought the Prince away from Astapor. The Worm was a slow and meandering river, wide and deep enough for barges to go far to the east, bringing goods from small settlements and mines in the mountains. Wooden islands dotted the riverbed, making for nice secluded meeting places or covert observation posts.

Viserys' first instinct was to fortify or destroy the nearby bridges to make the Worm a better shield against Dothraki and other possible invaders. A glance at one of the best available maps told him that holding three large stone bridges and destroying half a dozen smaller ones would, in theory, secure the river for hundreds of leagues.

In practice, Viserys was glad he decided to ride up the Worm and see it for himself beyond what he observed from his supporters' barges. Fortifying the large bridges was a project worth the expenses and manpower. Holding those would significantly increase Astapor's security. The mountains to the south and the ruins of Old Ghis beyond them provided a shield from Dothraki and New Ghis. Lookouts in the few viable passes and relatively small detachments of Unsullied would be able to keep that flank secure nearly indefinitely.

An invader would have to march from the north or land in the plains and hills to the southwest, with the sea and distant mountains trapping them for Viserys to deal with at his leisure. Arguably, the best ways to assault Astapor were from the sea, by seizing the harbor, or from the south side of the river, which offered a nice plain for a besieging force to deploy and dig in. Control of a few bridges or crossings would secure the enemy's logistics and provide a way for them to retreat in good order if necessary. Anyone assaulting from the north, even if they could take the bridge first, would be stuck between the walls and the river and have only a single choke-point to move through or flee.

The many wooden islands dotted all over the Worm made the river a questionable defense. Most of the smaller and two of the large stone bridges used such islands as anchor points. Those could be fortified, making a crossing there that much harder, if not impossible. However, there were simply too many other islands that anchored shallow parts of the river, creating crossings that could be forded by determined infantry or cavalry.

Viserys didn't have the industry or manpower to do something constructive about those. His best bet to prevent a fording in such locations was a rapid mobile force able to turn such attempts into bloodbaths before disengaging. He needed cavalry, mounted archers, and dragoons.

Viserys lacked enough horses for such an initiative, much less the trained cavalrymen.

"I've seen enough," the Sith grouched. "We will be building a series of lookout and messenger towers to warn us in case of a hostile force trying to cross the river. We will also fortify and defend the two large bridges closest to Astapor," Viserys decided. They would have to face any invading army at the city's walls for the foreseeable future. In the long term, he might have the tools and military to keep prospective enemies at bay, but that would be years from now.

Fortunately, he wasn't facing a modern military because giving them this kind of operational initiative would be pure madness. To an extent, that was the case now as well – Viserys simply lacked the assets to credibly defend the outlying settlements technically under Astapor's aegis. This wasn't infantry's game. He needed a lot of reliable cavalry backing infantry detachments stationed at every settlement to protect them. The logistics alone made such things infeasible, not to mention the price. Stationing credible defenses at the outlying towns and villages would turn them all into a net drain on Astapor's resources. Enemies would have to be destroyed in the field before they could ravage the countryside, paid off, or the settlements would be forfeited.

"Do any of you have a plausible idea on how we can protect the towns and villages beyond the city walls?" Viserys asked the Royal Guards riding beside him.

"Destroy the enemy before they can reach them," Lonmouth suggested. "We'll need cavalry for that. Stationing forces to deal with small-scale raids might be a good idea if we are at war. Otherwise, we either abandon them to their fate or evacuate their people behind the walls."

"Most mercenaries tend to camp in such places and demand tribute instead of burning them down," another former Pit Fighter, now turned Royal Guard, pointed out.

"I don't think that anyone moving against us will be so gracious," Viserys noted. "But any slavers coming for us might be more interested in dealing with Astapor and what it now represents instead of ravaging the countryside. We'll station messengers in some of the outlying settlements to warn us of Dothraki or other undesirables coming down the river from the East. We should have evacuation plans, though they might be useless if a cavalry heavy force attacks."

Most people would have to move on foot or carts, and that would be slow. In case of war, evacuation of anything but the closest settlements might be a pipe dream.

Viserys turned his horse around and had it trot towards Astapor. He didn't like the situation and hand and liked even less that he could do little to change it anytime soon.

=Sith=​

291 AC
Balerys Iron mines
the Ghiscari Mountains

The second time Viserys left Astapor for more than a few days was to inspect the closest mines to the city. A few were less than a sennight of riding through a rough terrain. The travel time to Yunkai was roughly the same, though the distance between the city and the mines was far smaller.

On the way there, it became clear that utilizing water power to enhance mining productivity was out of the question, at least in this area. A couple of small streams provided fresh water to the mines before sneaking their way to the Worm River. However, they were too tiny to even hope to power a waterwheel, so that was out of the question.

The mines themselves… Viserys had seen primitive mines in his time as a Sith in locations where shipping in expendable slaves was far cheaper than using droids. That was often because the security situation meant no credible manufacturer would provide long-term maintenance contracts, and high-end industrial droids were expensive. Depending on what you wanted to mine, there were locations where it was cheaper to fly in slaves in bulk, have them die from hard labor in dangerous conditions, rinse, repeat, pay for basic security, and still come out ahead.

The mines here made all those death traps Viserys remembered look like resorts. As it turned out, his worst estimates about what he would find here were nowhere close to the truth. If a Sith designed this place to dispose of people in cruel and unusual ways through heavy labor, then the setup would have made a twisted sense. Instead… sheer incompetence and slaves being cheap couldn't explain this, surely?

The mine was a massive open pit with steep walls that people crawled all over. A row of crosses with people nailed or roped to them surrounded the mine, so the slaves down there had a great and constant view of the dying wretches. Five of the unlucky bastards lost their grips on jagged rocks and fell to their deaths while Viserys party approached. A closer look explained it – most miners were little more than skin and bones. They haven't been fed properly in ages.

This explained why the Dark Side was strong in this place. The more Viserys saw of the mine, the clearer it became that he lacked the assets to turn this place into something productive that didn't devour people by the trainload. Hells, the distance through rough terrain meant that supplying the place with enough food and water, much less bringing out the mined ores, would be a logistical challenge.

The way to go forward might be to keep the place open as a small-scale operation, with the bare minimum of people that could be supported while still making a profit. Viserys certainly didn't have the people to waste on this kind of idiocy… and it was clear no one here had gotten the memo that slavery in Astapor was no longer a thing. Or the local slave masters didn't care because this wasn't Astapor. Technically anyway.

An hour later, Viserys has his people crucify the slavers and their guards while wondering what to do with the liberated slaves. Most of them were in such a condition they wouldn't make it without the kind of support that was out of the question this far from Astapor. Those people were in no shape to get to the city by themselves. Only the newest two batches of slaves haven't been worked to the bone yet and might be salvageable.

"Gather all the available food and water. Those of you who believe they might make it back to Astapor, move behind me," Viserys' voice carried all over the open mine. "The only thing I can do for the rest of you is grant you a quick, clean death."

Once upon a time, seeing hundreds of wretches grateful at the prospect of dying, for the pain would finally go away, would have been upsetting. The only thing that really bothered Viserys was the sheer idiotic waste.

When everyone willing to live gathered behind him, the Sith raised a hand, and the Dark Side jumped at his intent. Viserys focused, bending the Force to his will. Tendrils of twisted Force lashed out, touching the wretches and draining what little life force they had left. As soon as the Dark Side energies touched them, they siphoned away the last drops of life from the miners. One after another, they collapsed, dead.

Doing the same to a similarly large group of hale people would have taken significantly more time and power. However, these former slaves were on their last legs, wishing for the sweet release of death.

 

[Idirexii]

As soon as the Dark Side energies touched them, they siphoned away the last drops of life from the miners.

Click to shrink...

Couldn't he have used their sacrifices to heal the remaining slaves?
If yes, why didn't he drain the masters instead of killing them?

 

[Illuviar]

Couldn't he have used their sacrifices to heal the remaining slaves?
If yes, why didn't he drain the masters instead of killing them?

Click to shrink...

There wasn't enough life-energy to go around to do much. Most of the slaves were either too far gone to help them without a dedicated support structure, a modern one at that and tons of healthy sacrifices, and the rest were still fine enough to reasonably make it back to Astapor. Sacrificing the slavers and the guards might have stabilized a few of the worse-off slaves enough to potentially make it to Astapor, but not necessary recover or survive long after getting there.

What Sith Viserys would need to heal through the Dark Side would be the life-energy, not the sacrificial death. So draining out a healthy adult in his prime is useful. Draining all the slaves who were near death - that was barely enough to make up for the strain of channeling the energy expended to give them a quick and clean death.

A better man, would have tried to heal a few of the worst off slaves and given them a chance. Sith Viserys might be sane and nice for a Sith, but he's still a Sith. And in his mind, a quick and clean death is preferable to a slow and protracted one anyway, so what he did was a mercy.... and the slavers didn't get to die quickly as they would have if he drained them out of their life.

 

[Illuviar]

AN: I've decided to end this chapter with two updates focusing on Marwyn arriving at Astapor and meeting the Targaryens. In the next chapter we'll see what's happening in Westeros when credible news of Astapor finally reach the place.

Obligatory reminder about Marwyn – what he believes in, and what's true aren't necessary the same things.

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 8 Part 5

=Sith=​

291 AC
Astapor

A few months after Prince Oberyn and his Dornish party left Astapor, another unexpected and unforeseen Westerosi arrived.

It was early in the evening, and like usual, Viserys was busy overseeing Dany's training as a Sith Acolyte. Her progress remained slower than would be expected at Korriban or one of the smaller academies across the Empire; however, considering her young age, it was still impressive.

Typically, no one so young ended up as an Acolyte in training unless they were expendable with origins of no consequence. That was usually the fate of Force Sensitive slaves, children of regular people with no connections in either the military or, more importantly, the Sith Dynasties of the Empire.

The children of Sith, even if they were new blood, instead from lineages as old as the Empire, were, as a matter of fact, not expendable chaff. From a young age, they received training in handling all kinds of weaponry, basic instructions on harnessing the Force, and the best education money could buy. That way, such scions had all the tools they needed to prosper and excel as Acolytes, Apprentices, and eventually Sith in their own right. If they failed, it happened because they were not good enough to make the cut, not because they weren't given the opportunity to harness their potential.

A lucky and sometimes unlucky few ended as personal projects of family members. Such youths were either kriffed beyond belief or forged as some of the deadliest weapons in the Empire's arsenal.

For Viserys, remaking Dany into the best sane Sith she could be was a privilege. Doing so was challenging and only made the end product more desirable.

After months of trial and error, Dany could harness the Dark Side under pressure without immediately losing control due to the emotions fueling her power. Viserys could sense her anger and determination to overpower Ser Richard. This time, she wasn't relying on her speed and agility, further enhanced by the Force to make her nearly untouchable. The purpose of tonight's exercise was different.

Dany met the knight blow for blow. Their practice swords shook with each strike, nearly cracking. Dany parried each attack, holding her ground, then pushed back with Force-enhanced muscles. Her size should have made a context of strength madness due to the leverage Ser Richard's larger frame allowed him, even before considering how much stringer Lonmouth was. Instead, Dany used his advantages to unbalance himself and gain an advantage. She pushed aside Lonmouth's sword, briefly overpowering the knight and making him stumble. Her dull blade blurred and slammed into Ser Richard's armpit. Despite his chainmail, such a blow with a real blade would have been crippling, if not outright deadly. Even with the dull practice sword, Dany's strike had enough force behind it to leave behind a nearly crippling bruise.

"Your Grace, there is a man claiming to be a Westerosi Maester wishing to speak with you," A Royal Guard announced after the sparring bout was over.

"Escort him to my solar. Sir Richard, go have a healer see your arm. Dany, well done. Calm yourself down and go get a bath," Viserys ordered.

Dany flashed her brother a victorious grin. Her eyes burned with the power of the Dark Side before she let go of the Force, and they 'dulled' into their natural bright purple.

"Sister, if you are feeling particularly full of yourself, you'll be sparing with me first thing in the morning," Viserys promised.

"Yes!" Dany gleefully bounced out of the sparring ring to put down her training sword with practice weapons on one of the racks.

"You'll also be sparing with Ser Richard without heavily relying on magic," Viserys added. "The better conditioned you are, the less you need to enhance yourself with the Force. That, in turn, allows you to do more with it outside of ensuring you can keep up with physically superior enemies."

"The likes of him will always be larger and stronger! He's damn fast too!" Dany pointed at Lonmouth.

"That's precisely my point. There will always be someone faster, stronger, better. Blades will often be waiting in the dark to strike when you exhaust yourself. That is one of the major reasons why you should learn to pace yourself and keep a reserve of power to draw on. And why you should have reliable swords to guard your back."

"I don't have to like it, all right!?" Dany pouted.

"We've covered that point before. You certainly don't have to enjoy your training; merely endure and excel in it," Viserys pointedly let his amusement show. Predictably, Dany growled at him. She shoved her training sword into the rack and stormed in the general direction of the baths.

That was why most Sith avoided training moody teenagers. Even when they were family said Sith cared about, enduring their moods without doing something regrettable would sooner or later become nearly impossible. It didn't really help that, for the time being, Viserys' primary source of relief was fucking the brains out of the Green Grace. It was far less fun after he finished subverting her a few weeks ago.

=Sith=​

Viserys picked up a cool cup of lemon water, lamenting that he couldn't get his hands on properly chilled ale, Corellian preferably. Most available spirits and other drinks left much to be desired, undoubtedly due to a lack of proper quality control, substandard equipment, and ingredients. He was self-aware enough to know that he was contemplating pushing for an industrial and cultural revolution, not to mention a medical one, to increase his quality of life instead of the inevitable military benefits.

Viserys pushed the lamentations about his situation aside. He drew on the Dark Side enough to chill the solar, in general, and his cup in particular. Hoarfrost formed on the top of the water, encasing a slice of lemon in a thin sheet of ice. He wondered if any other Sith in recorded history had to go to such lengths for simple creature comforts when one of the Royal Guards announced his visitor.

"Maester Marwyn to see you, Your Grace!"

Viserys pushed the Dark Side aside and waited a few moments for its tangible effects to dissipate. "Let him in."

An old man in a dusty cloak walked in, leaning on a rough wooden staff. Viserys decided that his guest's weathered face and dirty appearance made him look a bit older than he really was. He had a squashed face and nose and a large forehead that looked even larger due to slowly receding hair.

He carried a leather satchel swung over one shoulder and a large book he clung to as if it was precious.

"Your Grace," the Maester bowed, using his staff for support. "We have much to discuss, my Prince."

"Am I your Prince?" Viserys asked while focusing on the man through the Force. His signature was curious – it was brighter than most. Still, he had no more connection with the Force than the average organic. The man was clearly tired, but below that weight, he appeared vibrant – nothing like the nearly robotic Unsullied.

"You were since you were born, even if we Maesters are not supposed to take sides in the political games of the Seven Kingdoms," Marwyn snorted at his own words. "Which is, of course, a big pile of horseshit."

The man was blunt; Viserys had to give him that much. Thus, he was unlikely to waste his time with empty platitudes, which he always appreciated.

"I have no need of a court jester," Viserys told his quest.

Marwyn stretched a bit, using his staff as leverage. His back cracked, and he sighed in relief.

"I am not here to entertain you, Your Grace. I've come to warn and advise you if you have me."

"What do you want in exchange? You aren't here of the goodness of your heart," Viserys reasoned.

"I am no saint, Your Grace. Neither am I your enemy. I wish to uncover the world's mysteries, which is why I've been traveling all over Essos for the past six years. I want to learn about the magic you are said to wield and the changes you've brought to Slaver's Bay. Slavers stir in Meereen and Yunkai, discussing war. They're afraid, the bastards," Marwyn smiled, clearly pleased at such a development. "Everything I've learned at the Citadel and during my travels will be at your disposal if you have me."

The Maester clearly took pride in his achievements—that emotion swelled like a balloon in his chest as he spoke.

"What ill tidings do you bring, Maester?" Viserys sipped chilled lemon water, studying Marwyn like a bird of prey examining possible lunch.

"There is a disease festering at the Citadel. Some of the gray sheep there have no use of magic in the world they are building," Marwyn's face twisted into a mix of a crooked smile and a pained grimace. "We are supposed to be Knights of the Mind," he scoffed. "Instead of studying the world with all in it as it is, some among my colleagues," he spat, "had been shaping it as they saw fit for longer than you Dragons have been in Westeros."

One thing was clear: Marwyn believed what he was spouting. The trick was that his belief didn't make his words true. He could be mistaken, deluded, or possibly mad, too.

"You are one of the last two Taragaryens in the world, Your Grace. The last of the Dragons, and perhaps, the last Valyrian sorcerer. Who do you think killed off the dragons back home the last time around? It wasn't gallant dragonslayers with magic swords; I can tell you that much!" Marwyn proclaimed with utter conviction. His gaze focused on Viserys, and he pointed at him with his staff. "There is no place for sorcery, prophecy, or dragons in the world certain gray sheep are determined to build!"

Marwyn's staff came to the floor with a clack of wood hitting stone. He leaned forward and offered a knowing smile.

"Six years ago, when I left on my quest for knowledge, there were three Targaryens left in the world, my Prince. You. Your sister. And Maester Aemon Targaryen, left to rot at the Wall when he should by rights have been an Archmaester like Vaegon two centuries ago! The blood you share is the why. He couldn't be trusted at the Citadel, and it might have been for the better. He was safer at the Wall, as you are safer here, far away from the Citadel and Westeros."

Viserys had to admit that Marwyn was weaving a fascinating tale—and it might even be true. He knew that ancient conspiracies and cults could be real. Revan's cultists, which he once joined before his idol returned, showing his true face, were one example. The heretical Banites, who, despite their failures, eventually led to Sidious becoming Chancellor and setting the galaxy on fire, were another example.

"Maester, get a bath and something warm to eat. We'll speak again tomorrow when you've rested," Viserys decided. Westeros might just prove even more of a headache than he suspected.

If Marwyn was right and there was a rot in the Citadel, that might explain what happened with the letters Ser Lonmouth sent for Rhaegar. Or perhaps the explanation there was more mundane, but even if that was the case, that alone wouldn't be proof one way or another.

 

[Warmachine375]

Maester Marwyn

Click to shrink...

Marwyn: "Is it possible to learn this power?"

Veil!Viserys: "Not from the Jedi."

He found real magic and it's in front of him. He's like Fluder from Overlord anime where he pledged loyalty to Ainz Ooal Gown after seeing true magic for the first time.

 

[xscraid]

Marwyn: "Is it possible to learn this power?"

Veil!Viserys: "Not from the Jedi."

He found real magic and it's in front of him. He's like Fluder from Overlord anime where he pledged loyalty to Ainz Ooal Gown after seeing true magic for the first time.

Click to shrink...

Is it possible to learn this power?

Not from a maester...

 

[Illuviar]

AN: Prepare your tinfoil hats people, you are about to learn all about the conspiracies of Oldtown courtesy to our special guest Maester Marwyn! You'll hear it here first! It was the Maesters, the Faith, and those dastardly Hightowers! Proof? What do you mean we need proof? It can't be all coincidences, surely! Master Marwyn will explain everything you ask him to, worry not!

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 8 Part 6

=Sith=​

291 AC
Astapor

The following morning, after breaking their fast, Viserys met Dany and Ser Lonmouth at the sparing ring. The knight's left shoulder was still stiff after last evening's spar – a testament to how well the little Acolyte got him. To Dany's credit, she was elated at her victory and slightly contrite at hurting their loyal Lord Commander.

Viserys took one good look at the knight through the Force and shook his head. "You're resting today, Ser Richard. Chose one of your people to spar with my sister after we're done."

Lonmouth moved his shoulder up and down, frowned, and nodded in agreement.

Viserys telekinetically pulled two practice swords out of their racks and threw one at Dany. She scrambled to catch it. The Force swelled around her, fueled by surprise and irritation. The wooden sword clattered on the stone floor before jumping in the air, summoned by the Princess.

"Better. Your performance is not remotely good enough, but it's better. When we are done, summoning the Force should be your second nature. Unless you intentionally keep it at bay, it should be your constant companion," Viserys reminded his sister, even though that wasn't entirely true.

With sufficient practice, the Force was always at your beck and call, but you weren't constantly aware of it. That was particularly true for experienced Sith, who had to learn to ignore the constant whispers of the Dark Side. Otherwise, all the information bombarding them, not to mention the Dark Side, would be overwhelmingly distracting and might just drive them insane. The downside of that approach was that things could and would slip past them unless they were a clear and present threat. The more powerful a Sith was, the fewer things could threaten them. Yet, lesser dangers remained perfectly deadly for everyone else around.

Viserys raised his blade and saluted his sister with it. She automatically returned the gesture and drew deeply from the force. Dany's eyes bled into the color of molten metal, making her look even more like a fierce little dragon. Viserys stalked forward, unleashing a flurry of blows. It was a standard opening meant to test your opponent's reaction times and strength. The kata could also be deadly, for it aimed to create an opening towards the left side of the neck and shoulder, perhaps even opening the opponent's heart for a fast jab. Armor would significantly decrease the threat. However, neither of the sparring partners wore one that morning.

First and foremost, this was a contest on mastery over the Force and the skill with a blade. Allowing the opponent's blade to touch you was an abject failure.

Dany parried the first attack and deflected a second slash. The Princess stumbled when her brother locked their blades together, breaking the pattern she was familiar with. The Force did warn her it was coming, yet she simply lacked the time or reaction speed to do anything about it. Viserys leveraged his taller frame, greater physical strength, and mastery over the Force to shove his sister's sword aside, pushing her further off-balance. Dany was open, struggling not to fall. She got a glimpse of a wooden blade flying at her shoulder – an attack that would have taken a chunk of it if this was a real fight, and let herself fall.

Viserys' sword swished through the air, and for a moment, he was out of position and balance. Dany didn't think but reacted, guided by the Force. She surged to her feet, pushing all her weight and strength behind a wild stab.

In an impossible display of strength and agility, Viserys reversed the trajectory of his blade, remaining in place as if stuck to the floor. His sword battered Dany's weapon away, and she flew face-first to the ground.

The Princess let go of her sword and used her hands to cover her face just before she hit the ground – a feat that would have been impossible if the Force flowing through her didn't enhance her reflexes. She hit the floor with enough strength to bruise and scrape her knees. A heartbeat later, Dany felt the dull top of a practice sword tapping her neck.

"Dead," Viserys declared gravely before moving away. "Nevertheless, this was a good effort, Little Dragon," he praised and waited for Dany to get up and be ready for the next round.

"It wasn't good enough!"

"You are two and ten, sister. At this rate, you will have good mastery over the Force years before your body has fully developed, allowing you to be a master of yourself and the weapons you've trained with."

=Sith=​

Early in the evening, Viserys retreated to his solar with Ser Lonmouth. Beforehand, he spent hours holding court and dealing with the grievances of his people before busying himself with efforts to establish a proper security service for Astapor. The Temple of the Graces was one pillar of those efforts. Old Theo's administrators and the fledgling City Guard were the other two. The former provided actionable information, with the latter offering the muscle needed to act upon it. Unsurprisingly, finding the right people for the right jobs was the hardest part. After all, there was no institutional knowledge to rely upon – just fresh bureaucracy, old friends networks, and the basic efforts of the Green Grace to gather information through her Priestesses. Forging these three groups into a cohesive whole involved multiple full-time jobs, so it went much slower than Viserys was happy with. And that was just internal security. His efforts to establish a foreign intelligence service wouldn't really get off the ground anytime soon.

In that regard, all he had to work with were his envoys and merchants and the various rumors they brought back. Frankly, Viserys was getting more, if outdated, information from foreign merchants visiting Astapor.

All that was an acute reminder that competent subordinates were worth their weight, gold, and then some. That was one of the reasons why he was interested in Marwyn. He could prove helpful if the man was sane and knew what he was babbling about.

A bath, clean clothes, food, and rest did wonders for the Maester. He was hardly recognizable, even if he was back with his staff and book.

"Your Grace," Marwyn bowed.

"Take a seat, Maester," Viserys offered and sat behind his desk."You too, Ser Richard."

Lonmouth reluctantly joined them, making himself comfortable in another chair. Viserys pointedly levitated a cup of cool lemon water before the Lord Commander and their guest. He didn't miss how the Maester's eyes lit up at this small display of telekinesis.

Marwyn reverently picked up the offered cup and examined it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

"No chants, no sacrifices…" the Maester muttered.

"Power and intent. It's ancient magic you have to be born with, and it is perilous to master. Frankly, what my ancestors achieved in awakening it in Dany and I should have been impossible, judging by the knowledge they granted me. I shouldn't have been able to wield it as if I've been doing it for decades, yet here we are," Viserys expertly mixed truth and lies.

"All the things that have been lost with the Doom… I fear we might never recover the full scope of that knowledge…" Marwyn whispered to himself while staring at something far away. "Unless…" He stared intently at Viserys.

"For all its perils, the magic I can wield is more practical than blood magic. It doesn't require sacrifices to work. Otherwise, we would have died in the Flatlands outside Pentos or worse. The fail-safe contained knowledge about combat, strategy, and warfare in general. Everything else came in bits and pieces from the memories of warriors and generals. Some of those memories are conflicting, which is to be expected, for Old Valyria existed for thousands of years."

Marwyn's expression dropped, and he sighed. "That would have been too easy and good to be true, wouldn't it?"

"One day, my magic might allow me to visit Old Valyria and return intact, but such a possibility lies years in the future. I already have too much to deal with as things stand," Viserys admitted, laying bait for the Maester.

Marwyn perked up at the Prince's words. "It has been a very long time since someone credibly claimed to have returned from Old Valyria… the treasures and knowledge it might contain…" he moaned at the prospect of so much lost knowledge just waiting to be recovered. "If I had any idea how to get there and back intact, I would have dedicated my life to uncovering Valyria's secrets!"

"My Prince, as the Lord Commander of your Royal Guard, I am obligated to tell you that going there is not a good idea," Lonmouth pipped up, exasperated. "The rewards might be worth it, but they would be of no use to a dead man."

"I wouldn't mount an expedition to Valyria unless I am damn certain I will come back intact, Ser. I have no death wish," Viserys countered. He looked back at Marwyn. "You mentioned a warning, Maester. Out with it."

Marwyn took a fortifying sip of lemon water and braced himself for whatever he was about to share.

"Your Grace, you must understand I am not talking about a grand conspiracy led by a cabal of easily identified villains. It might have been better and safer that way. Many Maesters at the Citadel have conflicting views of the world and ideas about how it should be. As Maesters come and go, the various factions at the Citadel grow, wane, and sometimes disappear only to be born anew," Marwyn explained. "The Starry Sept is in Oldtown as well. It has been the center of the Faith of the Seven for as long as the Andals held sway across most of Westeros. The Faith has no use for magic, sorcery, or witchcraft of any kind. Finally, we have the High Tower and the Hightower family, who have been there for more centuries than I care to contemplate. All in Oldtown, inevitably mingling, interacting, and influencing each other," Marwyn smiled bitterly at that. "Then your family came. Aegon the Conqueror forged the Seven Kingdoms and reshaped the Reach with the Field of Fire. His son Maegor shattered the power of the Faith and ended the Faith Militant."

"Queen Ceryse Hightower," Ser Richard interrupted. "One of Maegor's Queens was a Hightower."

"No matter which version of the story you believe, Ser, Maegor mistreated her gravely and earned the enmity of the Hightowers… or perhaps it was the other way around? Did the Queen Ceryse pay for the games of her family and their entanglements with the Faith?" Marwyn looked at Lonmouth. "Pray tell me, Ser, who writes the history books everyone in the Seven Kingdoms is learning from? Who ensured King Maegor was remembered as a cruel, perhaps even a mad tyrant? And let us not forget Tyana of the Tower, his Witch bride, who nursed him to health after barely winning a Trial of the Seven."

"That was when Maegor's tyranny began, wasn't it?" Viserys inquired. He had to admit that his knowledge of his family's history wasn't as good as it should be. He knew the essential facts or believed he did but never learned many details.

"Isn't it curious who he fought as perhaps the greatest tyrant the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen?" Marwyn asked. "He fought the Faith until he broke the Faith Militant. Oldtown politics almost certainly killed the High Septon, who condemned Meagor's multiple marriages to spare the Starry Sept, the Citadel, and, by extension, the Hightowers. Wasn't it interesting that Prince Aegon rose in rebellion while King Maegor was still at Oldtown, surrounded by Hightowers, Maesters, and the weakened Faith? It might be a coincidence, of course," Marwyn allowed. "But who knows what missives reached the rest of the realm while Maegor celebrated his victory and reconnected with his Hightower Queen?" the Maester sighed. "There's no doubt that King Maegor did terrible things. But why did he do them? What information prompted him to act in such a way? Was he merely a mad tyrant, or was there much more to the story that has been buried centuries ago?"

"Those are some wild claims, Maester!" Sir Richard pointed out.

"Do you believe in coincidences, Ser? How many coincidences do you need to see before you call them a pattern?" Marwyn countered.

"Coincidences happen all day, every day," Viserys noted. He raised a hand before anyone could speak. "Trusting them is another matter entirely. Make your point, Maester."

"I am merely laying down a pattern," Marwyn stated gravely. "The Conquest. Maegor. The years leading to the Dance of Dragons and the dance itself. The Hightowers supported both sides during the Blackfyre rebellion, pitting dragon against dragon…" the Maester trailed off and looked intently at Viserys. "Your father was a good, charismatic King until Duskendale. It is very convenient that everyone blames that mess on Sarela of Myr. The last, Lord Darklyn, is wildly considered a fool, ensnared by his wife's cunt. And no one ever remembers they had a Maester or confidants of the Faith who emerged from the Defiance unscathed. Did imprisonment drive your father insane, Your Grace? Was it torture or something more sinister? Poisons and other concoctions wildly known at the Citadel can affect the mind. Calm it, or even shatter it," Marwyn sighed. "I know some, suspect much, and fear more, My Prince."

"All I hear are accusations and theories, Maester Marwyn," Viserys interjected. "Do you have any proof?"

It was plain to see that the man believed his conjecture. That didn't make it true.

"When I wanted to study glass candles and magic, I was dissuaded by some of my colleagues. They warned me that until two of the Archmaesters passed or lost their wits, such studies would be hazardous to my health," Marwyn smiled in triumph. "That didn't dissuade me. For forbidden knowledge is the sweetest of them all! I was careful. I dug in and kept my head low and my ears open. Among the factions in the Citadel, there is a group with no use of magic. The only reason they still have knowledge about it at hand is so they can better know their enemy. But I wasn't careful enough, and I had to leave, which was the best decision in my life! All I learned in Essos," He shook his head in appreciation. "My colleague would dismiss it as common superstition. Healing and birthing songs! Knowledge of herbs and surgeries dismissed by the Citadel as barbaric nonsense! And so much more!"

Another mad scientist in the making, though not quite mad yet, that at last was new, Viserys decided. Marwyn could be very useful but would need close and careful supervision. He also believed everything he said, yet whether there was an actual conspiracy at the Citadel or if he was jumping at shadows remained to be seen.

"We'll have to be even more careful than anticipated when we return to Westeros then, Maester. I am willing to offer you a position in my court in exchange for your knowledge and skills. You will also tell me who you suspect at the Citadel and beyond," Viserys offered. "In exchange, you will have access to the libraries at my disposal and all the magical knowledge we might recover in the future. You are free to learn from all the scholars and healers working for me."

Marwyn beamed at the offer, obviously feeling like he got the better end of the deal.

 

[Illuviar]

AN: The High Tower has entered the chat. There will be plotting, prophetic visions and cake!

Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Chapter 9 Part 1

=Sith=​

291 AC
The Hightower
Oldtown, the Reach

Thick fog covered Oldtown like a fluffy blanket, obscuring it from sight. A morning chill crept up the shores of Battle Isle, carried by crashing waves. The fire atop the High Tower glowed brightly, illuminating the fog like a second sun.

It was a miserable beginning to the day, with everyone who could afford it staying home to keep warm. High up in their tower, three Hightowers gathered to break their fast and discuss recent events.

Leyton, the Old Man of Oldtown, his second son Garth, Greysteel, and eldest daughter, Malora, the Old Maid.

"Lynesse wrote," Malora spoke after drinking from a cup of steaming herbal tea heavily fortified with honey. "Her raven should arrive at dusk."

"Dreaming again, sweet sister?" A bittersweet smile graced Garth's face.

His sister's dreams sometimes came true. Between regular dreams and prophetic ones, she often had no time for or awareness of the present. Malora dabbling with magic and certain parties, making it known, ensured she wasn't safe outside the High Tower. If Garth ever found out which Maesters or members of the Faith spread those rumors about his sister, there would be blood on the streets! That the rumors were true was beside the point! His sister should have been free to move around Oldtown as she saw fit without needing a heavy escort! This was their seat long before Oldtown was even a thing!

"I always dream, brother," Malora smiled dreamily. "Day and night, all day, every day, all night, every night…" Malora sang.

Their father loudly speared a slice of well-done bacon with a fork and put it on a piece of warm, buttered bread. Two pairs of eyes looked at Leyton, who raised an eyebrow in response.

"How Lyn faring up North?" the Lord of the High Tower asked innocently.

"Happy, to be ruined and happy again…" Malora hummed. "She was to visit and never return, but now…"

Garth looked pointedly at his father.

"Happy and away, if perhaps ruined or unhappy and eventually dead but close. It was an easy choice to make, besides…"

"The ink is dry… but the story is still being written…" Malora smiled kindly, looking at Garth with wide eyes full of wonder.

"Do I want to know?" Greysteel asked tiredly. There was no winning when speaking with his sister.

"I dreamed of dark wings beating in the night. Of hot blood spilling, turning into fire. Our little sister should be going East. Farther than before! To the Bay of Dragons. She could be great, you know. It's all there in the dream…" Malora nodded to herself and drank more tea. Her gaze lowered and swept over the table, focusing on a strawberry pastry.

"Fire and Blood?" Leyton asked after he was done chewing a bite of bread and bacon.

"That's why we're gathered here this morning, isn't it, father?" Garth reminded them.

"Viserys Targaryen holds Astapor and has an army of Unsullied. As an alleged sorcerer, he was dangerous. Now he is a threat no one can dismiss," their father pointed out.

"Mace Tyrell is going to get his wish. Margaery can be queen," Garth noted.

"Olenna Redwyne, you mean," Leyton interjected.

"My dear niece, your granddaughter is set up to be queen," Garth noted.

His little sister Alerie was married to Mace Tyrell. Unless the Queen of Thorns outlived them all out of sheer spite, little Ale would be the Lady of Highgarden and thus the Reach one day.

"Son, I might be old, but my wits remain intact! I am well aware of who my daughters are married to and why my grandchildren are," Leyton grumbled.

"I am merely putting our situation in perspective. Marge is still young, thankfully. We have time to see events unfold, don't we?" Garth asked hopefully.

"Jon Arryn is no fool. He had already secured his shaky succession, stabilizing the Vale. The Queen of Thorns is traveling north to further bind the Tyrells to the alliance securing the Iron Throne," Leyton looked at his daughter, wondering if she had something to add and, more importantly if she had seen something of consequence.

He didn't even try to hide his distaste at the very idea. Eddard Stark was one of the few survivors from the group who killed his brother in Dorne. He didn't even know how Gerold died or who killed him. Stark was notoriously tight-lipped about those events. Given his station and friendship with the King, there wasn't much Leyton could do, no matter how his heart burned with the desire for vengeance.

"Winter is always coming," Malora hummed after finishing off a piece of cake. "The pack..." she tilted her head to the side as if listening to something. "Ice melts. Wolves burn or dance in the flames. Fire and Ice will dance together until the song is sung," she sighed. "I see but cannot see…" Malora's eyes fell upon the rest of the cake, and she smiled before taking another piece.

"I will not see my daughter or grandchildren burn on the altar of Olenna's ambitions," Leyton decided.

Under different circumstances, he might have been pleased with the match his goodson was negotiating in King's Landing. He was pleased enough months ago when Viserys was merely a dangerous sorcerer. He was the Lord of the Hightower. Magic was in his blood. Leyton knew its limits, especially in this day and age. Magic could be powerful, but it was costly and far from all-powerful. It could be fended off.

A sorcerer with a powerful, reliable army at their back was a very different creature.

"Burn?" Malora asked around a bite of cake. Her eyes were unfocused, and her face fell. "Such pretty green flames, eating the hearts of the seven… Marge… trice wedded, and never bedded… such pretty fires…." She looked intently at Leyton as if his life depended on it. "Lions eat stags, you know. Their claws are sharp… such a bloody red wedding… Roses burn, you know? Fire and blood, blood and fire…" and Malora was off in her own world again.

Garh sighed and forlornly looked all over the table for something stronger than hot tea. Greysteel noted that his father was looking as bad as he felt.

"Doran Martell has a few sons, you know…" Leyton's unexpected words caused Garth to look at his father sharply, his neck stinging.

"Tyrells don't do well in Dorne. Fucking scorpions and snakes," Garth shook his head in an attempt to loosen a kink in his neck and shake away unwelcome images of Dornish critters.

"Dragons didn't fare well in Dorne until they did," Leyton spoke of Marron Martel and Princes Daenerys.

"The Mother of Dragons?" Malora grinned like a little girl before staring at something no one else could see.

"Is she getting worse?" Garth asked worriedly.

"I think she's been seeing more as of late, and that's not necessarily a good thing," Leyton shared his concerns.

"I told you already, father, I see, but I cannot see!" Malora pouted. "I dream of such pretty, terrible things…"

Leyton grimaced and nodded at his daughter as if that explained everything. Which it really did, Garth sadly concluded.

"When can we expect Lynesse?" Garth decided to change the topic to something hopefully safer.

"For the tourney!" Malora scoffed as if it was apparent. "When the bear falls," she added in a matter-of-fact voice.

Garth had to admit that this was the strangest conversation he had with Malora in all his years, and that was saying something. Meanwhile, Leyton looked at his bread and bacon and put them on the table, feeling no longer hungry.

"What can you see of Viserys Targaryen, dear?" He asked Malora. Every time he asked that question before, the answer was the same. A peckish dragon was looking back.

Malora's eyes met her father's gaze, and she sighed contently. "The wars begin, father! Valyria comes again!"

Father and son looked at each other, unsettled by that foretelling.

 

[Bedpotato]

Yah, that will do it, Hightower, having more information than most, and using said info to fear for the future nice one! And the Valyria comes again is such a nice ending! Leyton should feel the goosebumps fromthat!