ASOIAF: Dimensional Chat Group

Westeros, The Stepstones

Island of Bloodstone

107 AC

The Conquest of the Stepstones ended with the silent whimper of the Crabfeeder's death in Shadow's, Jaehaerys' direwolf, jaws. The subsequent scouring and purging of the Triarchy's forces on the Stepstones was a quick and easy affair, and soon the Westerosi had the Stepstones all to themselves. However, their success has brought about its own troubles.

The first is that they must shift their forces from an invading force to a defensive one. A simple enough task considering that between Jaehaerys, Aegon, and Lord Corlys they have easily fought dozens of battles, the Long Night notwithstanding. 

The second task is building fortifications, keeps, and other holdfasts for permanent residence. A more troubling task, but not impossible to accomplish with trade deals from Braavos and the many lords of Westeros. 

The third task, while not the last, is certainly the most important. They need to not only replenish their numbers, but also entice people to permanently reside on the Stepstones. Without accomplishing the first, they will promptly lose the island to the Triarchy's constant invasion attempts, and without accomplishing the second task, the first one is sure to become a reality and the first two tasks will never truly be completed. 

This is one of the many reasons why they are currently meeting here, or at least that was the reason before a group of massive ships the likes of which none of them have ever seen before appears over the horizon flying the flags of House Targaryen and House Stark in equal measure. 

"It could be a trick." says Vaemond, Lord Corlys' nephew. "A trap concocted by the Triarchy to catch us unaware." 

"It would explain why House Stark's flag is the wrong color." agrees Laenor as they watch the approaching ship, earning nods from many.

"No." disagrees Jaehaerys. "The colors are wrong because they are in the likeness of my brother's direwolf." he explains. 

"Aegon?" asks Laenor skeptically. 

"Aemon, the one who remained in King's Landing." says Daenerys. 

"Then it seems your brother has finally found his balls. Though it is mighty late, the war has been long won." japes Vaemond, earning a laugh from the men.

"Fool." says Rhaenys, silencing them. "Aemon is more dangerous than you could possibly imagine. He stayed in King's Landing to limit the Hightower's grasp for power in Daemon and Corlys' absence." she says as the leading ship docks before them.

From the side of the ship part of the railing unfolds into a ladder, and from the ladder thousands of well armed men in black armor descend in an orderly fashion. Quicker than any expected, the army of men form a formation along the docks before parting at the center to allow a lone figure, and what seems to be an honor guard, to walk through. 

Like them she is garbed in armor black as night, though she wears no helm which allows all to see her face. The woman is tall, easily six feet in height, with olive skin, large dark eyes, thick black hair that falls in ringlets to the middle of her back. 

"A dornishwoman." remarks Vaemond with distaste as the woman reaches them. 

"Reina." greets Rhaenys with a smile as she pulls her into a hug.

"Rhaenys, it is good to see you." says Reina as she returns the hug before slowly pulling back. 

"You came at the perfect time." says Aegon as he greets her with a nod. "We were beginning to worry. Our numbers are beginning to dwindle." 

"Worry not, the Lord Commander has foreseen such an issue and has long moved to remedy it." she says before turning to present the thousands of men behind her. "Meet the Wolf Pack, as disciplined and loyal as the Unsullied, stronger and faster than any man, and as ferocious as a direwolf." she says, causing Vaemond to scoff. 

"Empty boasts." says Vaemond.

"Do you wish to test that theory?" asks Reina. For a second Vaemond seems ready to say yes before seeing something in her eyes that makes him turn and walk away, causing the men to laugh.

"How many are there?" asks Jaehaerys as he walks up and down the formation, carefully observing them. Next to him Shadow follows along, his hackles raised. Eventually the direwolf takes a sniff of one of the men before promptly retreating with a snarl. 

"Ten Thousand." says Reina.

"Ten thousand? Where did Aemon find them?" asks Corlys with narrowed eyes.

"The world is far more vast than you can imagine Lord Corlys." replies Reina. 

"And who is to command them?" continues Corlys as he ignores her non-answer. 

"You, Aegon, Jaehaerys, Rhaenys, and Daenerys are to command two thousand each, to be organised as you see fit. As for the ships, do with them as you will." says Reina, causing a smile to grow on Corlys's face.

"Perfect." says the Sea Snake.

Unknown to them, the members of the Wolf Pack are the remnants of House Cumhail's military force, beaten into submission and absolute obedience by Reina and Eredin. That was the task assigned to them by their liege while Lord Cumhail foolishly assaulted the Winter Fort. So assured was he of his victory that he assigned this premature task to them in the midst of his war. 

They are divided into ten groups of one thousand, with each group further divided into groups of tens, and each ten is led by a fey afflicted with the Wild Hunt's version of the werewolf disease, potentially making them greater. This group is Aemon's first attempt at creating a group of fey supersoldiers and the Stepstones shall be their first testing ground.

…

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Westeros, King's Landing

The Red Keep

107 AC

The silence within the Small Council chamber is stifling, and for once all feel it. It is late into night, a time where even Ser Otto would be abed, yet Viserys' council will find no rest this night for the assault on King's Landing is one that must be addressed immediately. 

Joining the Small Council in the meeting is Prince Daemon, Princess Rhaenyra, and Saera Targaryen's bastard, Aemon Snow; or Lord Snow as many have begun to call him. 

Ser Otto had attempted to dissuade Viserys from allowing them to attend, but he would not hear of it.

The three of them all congregate on one side of the council table, whispering to themselves and occasionally looking around at the Small Council members. Ser Otto swears that the bastard has looked at him a few times with a smirk on his lips all the while twirling a black dagger between his fingers, the light at times catching on the unnaturally pitch black blade or his cold blue eye that seems to glow; in addition to his clothes, all black with nary a single color to be found, the bastard cuts the figure of a malevolent shadow, his unnatural beauty making him seem even more inhuman. Had he not known better he would claim sorcery. 

Turning his attention away from the bastard, Ser Otto leans towards Viserys who fiddles with his Small Council ball with a silent rage on his face. 

"Your grace, I believe that it is time that we begin." says Ser Otto, causing everyone's attention to turn to him. 

"Good, I want answers." says Viserys as he places his ball on the plate before him, the other council members following suit. "Why the fuck did my court and citizens become mad and who the fuck is responsible?" demands Viserys only to be answered with silence.

Looking at his small council members, who actively avoid his eyes, Viserys' rage seems to grow by the second. 

"Nothing?" asks Viserys, his voice lowering into a deceptive whisper. "Before me are some of the most intelligent and informed men on the entire continent and you mean to tell me that not a single one of you has a theory, much less answers?! Then what the fuck do I pay you for?!" says Viserys, his voice growing louder until it eventually becomes a roar at the end. 

As Ser Otto makes to answer Viserys, another speaks before him.

"If I may, your grace." says the bastard drawing the Small Council's attention, his voice smooth and melodic in a way one would expect of a musician, or seducer, as opposed to a warrior. 

"I believe I have the answers that you seek." he says, his fingers still twirling his dagger even as he speaks to the king. Whichever fool allowed him into the chamber armed will need to be punished for the negligence, Ser Otto thinks to himself.

"Earlier this morn, one of my agents reported seeing a warlock of Qarth wandering the streets of King's Landing. He seems to be paying an unnecessary amount of attention to the Red Keep while carrying a bundle wrapped in cloth in his arms." explains the bastard as he takes a wrapped bundle from somewhere beneath his cloak and places it on the table. 

At the mention of the warlocks of Qarth, Viserys's eyes widen and Ser Otto sees pure unadulterated fear in those wide eyes. Looking around the table Ser Otto sees the same reaction from Ser Harrold, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and Grand Maester Runciter; with the Grand Maester visibly recoiling from the bundle. For the first time since becoming Hand Otto feels as if he has missed something of great importance. He mislikes it.

"By the Seven." prays the Grand Maester before addressing the bastard. "Tell me that you had the abomination arrested at once." says Runciter. 

"Aye, Grand Maester, the warlock found himself occupying the Red Keep's darkest and deepest cell long before the madness befell King's Landing. Unfortunately, he was nothing but a distraction, or rather he was not the one sent to target King's Landing as far as I can ascertain. Unfortunately he took his own life before he could be questioned." replies the bastard and whatever relief Runciter may have received upon hearing the first statement is promptly squashed as he hears the second. 

"There was a second warlock." says Viserys with a frown, his hands visibly shaking from Ser Otto's position despite his attempt at hiding it beneath the table.

"Not in King's Landing, but rather in Oldtown." says the bastard, causing Ser Otto's gaze to snap to him. 

"Why would they send a warlock of Qarth to Oldtown?" questions Ser Harrold. 

"A thousand years before the Doom, one green and three black candles were brought to The Citadel from Valyria. They have remained there since." explains Viserys.

"I petition that the glass candles be removed from The Citadel's possession, your grace. They know not what they hold, nor do they possess the means to protect it. Their ignorance has extracted a steep price from the Kingdom this day." says the bastard

Ser Otto makes to counter the bastard's proposal on principle only to quickly think better of it. The situation is dire and this issue seems to be one Viserys has strong opinions on. With his ignorance on the matter, to speak carelessly now would be detrimental. 

Looking around the room, Ser Otto expects at least one member of the council to argue against it, only to be shocked when even the Grand Maester does not refute the bastard. Clearly these glass candles are much more dangerous than Ser Otto believed.

"You two have been quiet." remarks Viserys as he looks at Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra. 

"There is nothing to say, Aemon is right. The Citadel cannot be trusted with the glass candles nor anything pertaining to magic for that matter." says Daemon, no doubt having long planned on how to benefit from this. 

"Very well." says Viserys with a nod. "The glass candles will be removed from The Citadel's hands and will be moved to the Red Keep for safekeeping by the crown." 

Then Ser Otto awaits, waiting to hear Prince Daemon demand the candles be placed under his protection. However the prince does not seem even interested in the outcome of this decision, much less under whose protection the glass candles are placed under. Looking between Prince Daemon, Princess Rhaenyra, and the bastard, the uneasiness that he has been failing to ignore only grows now. This is unlike them both, to allow another to influence Viserys into making decisions.

"Now. What of this second warlock? What do we know of him, his motives, his objectives?" asks Viserys as he looks towards the bastard. More and more Viserys begins to rely on the bastard and his agents. Agents shrouded in shadows, and secrecy it seems. 

No once has anyone seen these agents other than that woman, Evelynn, who seems to act as an intermediate between him and his agents. The very same woman who practically owns the Street of Silk after buying all the establishments there and rebuilt them into the current luxurious establishments they are now rather than the rundown cesspits they once were. 

"I do not know yet, your grace, for Oldtown is far from King's Landing. However I am expecting a report sometime this night and judging by the somewhat abrupt stop of the attack, we can wager that the warlock is either dead, apprehended, or accomplished his goal. Though the last outcome is the least likely" replies the bastard

"Which begs the question, what was his goal?" asks Lord Lyonel Strong, the Master of Laws.

At Lord Lyonel's question, Prince Daemon leans forward while placing a stack of papers on the council table.

"Between my Goldcloaks and Aemon's agents, we have a few theories on their purpose in launching such an attack. One, however, we are almost certain of." says Prince Daemon and for a brief moment Ser Otto feels himself drowning. This Small Council assembly has moved past his expectations and his control. 

After the attack on King's Landing Ser Otto certainly expected Viserys to have questions, just as he too has a multitude of questions that need answering. Yet no matter the investigation there was not a single answer to be found. There was no drug in the water or the air that caused the madness to befall the people of King's Landing, nor a culprit to point the finger at; or so he thought. 

Against all rational thought it is Daemon and this bastard who have answers for Viserys, and Ser Otto is left to sit and watch this while being unable to contribute anything. At best he can sow doubt towards Daemon and the bastard, but Otto has long been able to read Viserys' moods and currently he will not be willing to hear anything but answers to his questions. Anything short will be ignored at best or at worst further enrage him until he does something drastic. No, it would be best to let events play out, let them placate Viserys with their answers and when he is in a better mood swoop in and sow doubt. 

"The target of this attack was Rhaenyra." says Daemon, and just like that Viserys' hands stop shaking and tighten into fists. 

"Explain." commands Viserys, and for a brief moment Otto believes he sees a shadow of the Wise Old King in Viserys only for it to vanish as quickly as it came.

"It's simple, brother. Their first assault was against my sons, though that one was thwarted easily enough with dragonfire. No doubt it prompted this second attack where they sowed chaos throughout the city." explains Daemon.

"How does inciting the people of the city and the keep into murder serve their purpose if they wished to capture Princess Rhaenyra? She is the Heir, surely they did not expect her to be undefended?" asks Lord Strong. 

"That is where the report comes in." says Daemon. "Aemon and I noticed a peculiarity when those ensnared by the warlock attacked Rhaenyra. Whereas they attempted to kill anyone else, when it came to Rhaenyra they attempted to capture as opposed to killing." he explains. 

"Considering what we have ascertained to be their goal thus far, it makes sense. Capture two boys and they may have two dragonlords in a few years, but capture a dragonlord now, and the most defenceless one at that…" says Ser Harrold, leaving the rest of his statement unsaid yet understood by all.

Silence falls over the council chamber as all look towards Viserys awaiting his reaction. For a moment it seems that Viserys will take the news calmly before he begins to laugh. 

"They want my Heir? They want my daughter? Aemma's greatest gift to me?" questions Viserys in between laughs, every statement seemingly more amusing than the last and for a brief moment Otto fears that Viserys may go mad with rage. 

"Do they think me soft?" he asks with a snarl, Otto knowing the question to be rhetorical just as he knows everyone in the room will not dare to answer the question, or so he thinks until he hears that soft, melodic voice. 

"Yes." says the bastard, shocking all in the chamber. Even Prince Daemon regards him with eyes wide open in shock.

"What did you say?" questions Viserys. 

"They think you to be soft, your grace. For how else can they view you when you continue to court traitors." says the bastard. 

"Watch yourself, bastard. You speak to your King!" roars Otto, his voice the loudest amongst the many voices that warn the bastard. 

For a brief moment Otto readies himself to have him arrested only for the smirk on the bastard's face to bring him short. Looking closely at the bastard, Otto finds that sometime during the meeting the bastard's beast of a raven had entered the chamber and delivered three pieces of parchment to him. 

"In my hand, your grace, are three parchments. Each brings grave news of treason, with the most treacherous one being unfortunately quite close to home." says the bastard, his eyes briefly meeting Otto's with a smirk that quickly vanishes before his attention returns to Viserys. 

"Bring them to me." commands Viserys.

Wordlessly the bastard stands, his black cloak making him seem to be a living shadow as he walks towards the king and hands him the papers. 

Without even looking at the bastard, Viserys reads them with each one further inflaming the rage that had been suppressed. 

After reading the last one, Viserys crumples the pieces of paper and looks at Ser Harrold.

"Ser Harrold, arrest Ser Otto and have him placed in a cell. I care not which one." commands the King. 

As the words reach Otto's ears, his brain fails him for he knows not how to react. He does not hear Viserys' words, only the roaring command of the King as he is stripped of his position as Hand of the King. He does not see Ser Harrold standing up from his seat, only the shadows closing in on him. Nor does he feel himself being forced to his feet, only a weightlessness as if he were falling; or worse, drowning.

It is not until he is being dragged out of the chamber that he comes back to himself.

"Your grace!" He screams in the hopes of buying time, but the King pays him no mind as he is dragged out of the chamber, the doors slowly closing behind his exit. 

His last view of inside the Small Council chamber is shadowy figure of the The Black Bastard standing behind the King as he places a comforting hand on his shoulder, Princess Rhaenyra whispering in her father's ears, a slight smile on her face, and Prince Daemon's bloodthirsty grin and eyes seeing him out of the chamber. 

Above his head the bastard's raven flies while cawing, "Reverse Scale! Reverse Scale!"

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Author's Note: This chapter came easily and I really had fun writing it. As usual, tell me what you guys think. If you want to support me or read ahead, you at my patreon: patreon.com/servantambrosius