The year is 286 AC. King Jaehaerys II has just passed, leaving the throne without a rightful ruler. While his three children fight for the crown, Winter creeps closer, and unimaginable darkness looms.
Not all alliances will be so typical this time. In fact, many people have a crucial effect on the way this story is told. As for the ending, we only hope there are enough people left alive to tell it after its passed.
Events
Join us for our first event, the wake of recently deceased King Jaehaerys II.
Updates
AUG. 19: So we are now officially open to the public. We have a mini-event flashback thread going on, and our main event just began. Feel free to make a second canon if you can keep both of them active enough.
Don't hesitate in pestering staff with questions; it's what we're here for! Let's raise a glass and make a cheer toward a successful launch of Winds of Winter.
As the Prince of Dragons and once in direct line to inherit the Iron Throne, Aerys's Targaryen's sudden disappearance from Westeros was a loss that hurt his family in more ways than one. After five years in Essos, the Prince has returned to his homeland with hopes to prevent another civil war.
Post by AERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 17, 2017 5:05:13 GMT
282 AC
Aerys had recovered from his near death experience. During his darkest hour it was fire that saved him. Guinevere's fire. The red priest of R'hllor had shown him warmth and kindness the Targaryen Prince had never experienced before. She took him in when he was but a corpse in the making and nursed him back to health without asking anything of him in return. A gesture Aerys was unfamiliar with. Born into riches, power, and titles that peasants such as Guinevere could not even dream of, he had always felt an expectation of him when favors were passed his way. It was a way of life in King's Landing. You scratch their back, they scratch yours.
Guinevere's generosity would not be forgotten. Coming with her to Volantis at her insistence after the way she reacted to a particular sight involving Aerys was the least he could do. It was well within his interest to return to one of the Free Cities and meeting with this High Priest was an encounter he took interest in. She spoke of a vision and how the key had been found, but it was all nonsense to Aerys.
Volantis was a sight in itself, but the Temple of the Lord of Light? That was beyond anything Aerys had seen. It dwarfed the Great Sept of Baelor. Triple the size by his estimate. Aerys awaited outside a room where Guinevere was debriefing the High Priest on what she claims to have seen. It wasn't until the doors parted open and Guinevere gave Aerys a nod of acknowledgement before leaving did Aerys take it as his cue to enter.
Post by DARESSO SORELLION on Sept 17, 2017 17:04:17 GMT
A Fated Guest - 282 AC
As the doors to the sanctuary swung open, a strong scent of herbs and incense wafted over to the young Targaryen’s nostrils, pervading his senses as a vague hint of smoke drifted past his eyes. Beyond the quiet babbling of running water from a nearby fountain guised as a miniature spring, only the soft strokes of a brush could be heard within the confines of the High Priest’s chambers.
Off in the distance, a man steeped in red could be seen. His back turned and mind still focused upon the canvas before him, a hand continued to move slowly but meticulously, paying seemingly no mind to the newly arrived guest. Given a moment of silence was an approving nod made as the hand ceased its motions, dipping the brush into a nearby basin to cleanse it of the lingering oils. It was then that the man in red finally spoke. His words were slow and articulate, his voice rich and soothing, holding an uncanny sense of charm befitting of the man’s status.
“A small part of me had honestly hoped you would fly up and land upon my balcony. I see now that it was nothing more than wishful thinking on my end though.
As the Prince of Dragons and once in direct line to inherit the Iron Throne, Aerys's Targaryen's sudden disappearance from Westeros was a loss that hurt his family in more ways than one. After five years in Essos, the Prince has returned to his homeland with hopes to prevent another civil war.
Post by AERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 18, 2017 4:36:29 GMT
Aerys stepped inside and simply took in the room. The sights, aroma, and even the noise of running water made him feel...at ease. The tranquility of it all was something Aerys could use. Between the weeks of being on the run and having suffered a near fatal attack at the hands of the shapeshifter, the boy had tense. He was always alert and on his guard. Paranoia struck him at every twist and turn while navigating through the city. Each and every face he had seen was a possible threat, his eyes wide and darting side to side in anticipation from where the next attack would come.
In the High Priest's inner sanctum, Aerys only found serenity.
"I will remember your fondness for theatrics in our next visit, High Priest of R'hllor." Aerys said with a smile and a nod. He gave the man a cursory glance. Aerys felt the same regal vibes he did when among lords and nobles, yet he was a man of god. Long, red hair much like Guinevere who had brought him here and sharp features accompanied his tall frame. He was unlike the High Septon back in King's Landing in many ways.
So he knew. Aerys hadn't given Guinevere his full name, but for a man in his position, it was an easy conclusion to jump to if he was only given his first name. "Your disciple brings me here." He said, stating the obvious. "She saved my life and I am indebted to her for that. When she proclaimed to see a vision realized before her and insisted on my coming here, I could not deny such a request." Aerys elaborated.
The Targaryen prince stepped closer, trying to get a good look at what the High Priest was painting. His focus was intent and every brush stroke was deliberate. It was clear he had been working on this for some time now.
"Let me ask you the same: what brings me to your inner sanctum, High Priest?"
Post by DARESSO SORELLION on Sept 18, 2017 5:26:49 GMT
A Fated Guest - 282 AC
“A surprise indeed.” Whether the man was simply humoring the Targaryen or agreeing remained unknown. His voice held steady, giving little indication of the context behind it.
An unseen smile cracked across the red priest’s visage as he listened to the youth’s words. It seemed as though his query had been taken literally, allowing him to find a bit of humor in the situation. A gentle hum sounded as he pondered over the Targaryen’s words before finally letting out a shrug of defeat. Pivoting about to face his weathered guest, Daresso slowly approached his desk and in turn revealed the piece he had labored over for quite some time.
The canvas depicted a wounded three headed dragon descending down from the heavens with a majestic aura that invoked both awe and fear. Below it rest a near perfect recreation of the Red Temple of Volantis, its doors opened wide as if welcoming the beast. As for the remaining surroundings, very little was discernable, swathed in a veil of darkness that closed in on the divine creature.
Aerys’ focus upon the work of art however would be short lasted as a voice quickly beckoned him back to reality. The High Priest spoke once more, this time with an equally cryptic and uninformative answer of his own.
"Would you believe me if I were to say it was fate? No, no. The ancestor of your namesake might have, but you are not the same, yes? As much as it pains me to admit, the meaning behind our paths intertwining appears to have escaped both of us.”
The High Priest motioned for the white haired youth to take a seat while doing so himself. Only after resituating himself comfortably did he resume where he had left off. “That does not change the fact that the Lord has guided you here. Perhaps our ignorance too is R’hllor’s will… One thing was made clear however, a lone dragon would descend upon the Red Temple, and in doing so would depart a twinned beast.”
Pausing a moment as if to contemplate over his own words, he’d eventually revert his gaze towards the esteemed guest. “The intent behind such a vision ought to reveal itself in due time. Such is the way of the world. So tell me then, what brings you to Volantis? You’re quite a ways from home, young Targaryen.”
As the Prince of Dragons and once in direct line to inherit the Iron Throne, Aerys's Targaryen's sudden disappearance from Westeros was a loss that hurt his family in more ways than one. After five years in Essos, the Prince has returned to his homeland with hopes to prevent another civil war.
Post by AERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 18, 2017 22:38:30 GMT
When Daresso stepped aside, Aerys couldn't help but arch a brow at what he saw. The painting was nothing short of magnificent, but it was the contents of the art that captivated him. A dragon, a three headed one no less, descending upon the Red Temple. Aerys's eyes shifted towards the Red Priest the back to the painting. The dragon had even been wounded much like the Targaryen Prince had been. There was no doubt that this painting had taken the High Priest days if not a week to complete. Yet Guinevere had not sent word of their arrival. Had he expected him all along?
The man did love his theatrics. That much Aerys was certain of.
"I am not." Aerys said, his voice flat and his eyes narrowed as the man in red spoke of Aerys I Targaryen. He had wondered why his father had him share a name with a king he knew Daeron could not respect. Perhaps after the scorn and backlash he received upon news of his marriage to Alura did he turn to the seven. Perhaps he hoped by naming his first born after a king who's relationship with god was unmatched he would be able to atone. Whatever he may believed, it must have been short lived.
Aerys stepped towards the seat designated by the High Priest, carrying himself with a faint limp as he slowly descended onto the chair. A quiet groan escaped his lips as he was reminded of the lingering aches in his body while sitting down. The shapeshifter had really done a number on him.
"A twinned beast?" Aerys, once dismissive of words out of a silver tongue like the High Priest, leaned forwards with curiosity. The followers of R'hllor were an interesting bunch. Aerys had grown up knowing only the new gods. Then he traveled North to live with the Starks and learned of the old gods. Next was his wardship at the Iron Islands, where Lord Greyjoy would show him the ways of the Ironborn and the Drowned God. In the end, Aerys only believed there were too many damned gods. His faith in them all having weakened, yet here he was presented with one more.
Aerys nodded at Daresso. Whatever was to reveal itself would not be anytime soon. When he asked Aerys what brought him to Volantis, the boy laughed. He didn't know where to start. Perhaps the journey was less important than the cause for it.
"I had a vision last year." Aerys closed his eyes, the memory of what he saw still as vivid as the day it had entered his mind. A three headed dragon, the Targaryen sigil, sinking their teeths into one another's neck. "One that represented great danger to my house." He said, certain of that fact. No matter what his pure blooded uncles and aunts thought of him, Aerys loved his house. Vaelys's own visions aligned with him and pointed the boy towards Essos. To Old Valyria. "I don't know what exactly I hoped to find, but I know the path laid out before me brought me here. I've yet to discover the means to prevent what I don't know will come to threaten my house, but I will not return until I do so."
Post by DARESSO SORELLION on Sept 20, 2017 5:37:57 GMT
A Fated Guest - 282 AC
Interesting. As the High Priest continued to listen, a curious expression crossed as face as he’d nod once after the youth had finished. Though receiving dreams and divinations wasn’t listed high on the red priest’s strengths, extracting what little and convoluted meaning from them remained firmly within his capabilities. After pausing a moment to reflect on the words he had heard, a gentle hum finally sounded from Daresso’s throat as he against the hairs upon his chin.
“Hmm… Have you told anyone else of this dream?”
A perplexed look was given from the man’s red beady eyes as he gauged the youth’s response. Perhaps Aerys had already consulted the clergy of the Seven. It wouldn’t surprise the High Priest however if the dream’s meaning had escaped their grasp. Those led astray by vague fantasies wrought from the arcane often could not see the truth were it set before their very eyes.
“I bet old Aegon’s rolling in his grave right now. You traveled quite far to understand that which rested before your own eyes.” A hint of playfulness flickered in the old priest’s eyes as he’d continue to gauge the Targaryen. He paused briefly, as if eagerly anticipating the moment that the puzzle pieces had settled in place.
After waiting long enough, a mild look of disappointment followed as he’d sigh and continue to elaborate. It appeared as though the trail of bread crumbs he had laid out was perhaps a bit sparse. It didn’t seem as though the youth before him was too interested in history anyway. “You’re familiar with the origin of the Targaryen coat of arms, yes?” He’d pause again, as if hoping this additional nudge would spark a bit of insight. Once the connection had been made, the rest would presumably fall in line rather quickly.
As the Prince of Dragons and once in direct line to inherit the Iron Throne, Aerys's Targaryen's sudden disappearance from Westeros was a loss that hurt his family in more ways than one. After five years in Essos, the Prince has returned to his homeland with hopes to prevent another civil war.
Post by AERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 22, 2017 3:19:20 GMT
Aerys studied Daresso's expression as the High Priest gave his dragon vision some thought. The man was a hard read. There was little he could discern through other than what was made obvious to him.
"Only a few."
His visions weren't shared with the clergymen of the Seven. Vaelys knew. Others came to find out, but only his cousin knew to the full extent of what his vision meant. Now Daresso did too. Aerys lacked the High Priest's amusement whenever he brought up Aegon nor was he offended. The comment flew over his head, as he had not yet put together what Daresso was getting at.
"Of course I do." Aerys said, his voice ringing with confidence. There wasn't a Targaryen that didn't. Especially not one that received an education as privileged as Aerys's. "House banners was a concept born in Westeros. When the Targaryen's arrived we had none. What we did have was three dragon riders using Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. Aegon and his sister." Aerys said, proud of his own history and heritage.
"The dragon has three heads..." Aerys's mind began to drift towards his father, uncle, and aunt.
Then it hit him.
Aerys had doubts as to whether this was the conclusion the High Priest had also arrived at. How could he possibly know or understand what his family's hierarchy was like? The tensions between the three heirs did exist, but surely they all understood Daeron was the rightful heir? Challenging that could disrupt nearly three centuries of the Targaryen dynasty. They would fracture the house, leaving the crown looking weak. The other lords would quickly become vultures, drooling at the thought of sitting on the Iron Throne themselves. Even so, Aerys was not one to doubt the existence of visions. Not anymore. If there was someone with experience interpreting such vision, it was likely this man that sat before him.
The prince's left hand rubbed his temple as he stressed over his new enlightenment. The notion and very thought of civil war repeating within his house was dangerous. Especially after what happened during the last one. Yet it was one he could not deny being possible.
Post by DARESSO SORELLION on Sept 22, 2017 3:53:32 GMT
A Fated Guest - 282 AC
An amused look was seen upon Daresso’s face as he’d simply rest a cheek against his propped up arm. Slowly but surely, the puzzle pieces he had set out for the young Targaryen had slowly fallen into place. This feeling alone had already left him feeling a bit smug and self-satisfied as the High Priest could only sit silently and watch. It had become apparent that these new troublesome thoughts weighed heavily on the esteemed guest’s mind.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page. That said… you’re a bit far from home to resolve anything domestic.” A weak chuckle sounded from the red haired man as he’d let out a heavy sigh. A hand pressed against his brow while further contemplating. Matters weren’t as simple as he had presented them. Considering how it was R’hllor’s will to lead the youth across the Narrow Sea, there something else the old man’s mind had overlooked. As for what it was… he too was unsure. One thing was clear however. Fate had intertwined their paths, indicating that it was perhaps time for Daresso to leave the familiarity of Volantis.
“Seeing how the Light had guided you this far, there must be some purpose to it. Either the flames of internal strife have already consumed your house, preserving the Targaryen lineage through you alone… or perhaps…” Words lingering momentarily, he’d again stroke his beard. “Or perhaps there’s still some time for remedy. Tell me young Aerys, what seeds of chaos have been sown within your house?” The High Priest expected little in response. All things in mind, his question was a long shot. Fate was often a fickle and cold mistress, leaving few clues behind for those astute enough. Could this youth catch on to the winds of destiny?
As the Prince of Dragons and once in direct line to inherit the Iron Throne, Aerys's Targaryen's sudden disappearance from Westeros was a loss that hurt his family in more ways than one. After five years in Essos, the Prince has returned to his homeland with hopes to prevent another civil war.
Post by AERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 22, 2017 5:01:06 GMT
Daresso's next words did help Aerys some. The weight on his shoulders was his to bear, but there was truth in the fact that he could not resolve any future calamity from where he sat now. A silent pause filled the air as Aerys didn't give his comment any response. The boy was still trapped with troubling thoughts. Finally his hand dropped from his face and his posture slouched ever so slightly as he returned the High Priest's gaze with one of his own.
"Even if I were there... I cannot influence the future." Aerys spoke, struggling to put together his thoughts into words. "Not from there. Not yet." Aerys's hand stroked his chin now as he leaned forwards, thinking of what he could possibly do. Why was it that he knew he could not shape his family's future from home?
Aerys was weak and he was well aware of that much. He commanded no armies. He influenced no lords. He had no heroic accolades. What he did have was a foundation. Mentorship from the multiple Lord Paramounts, education from veteran maesters, and training from the military commanders and legendary knights. From where he sat he was poised to gain what he needed most: power. Violet eyes burned bright and stared through Daresso. It was not the High Priest he was looking at, but a plan that would be years in the making beginning to take shape. The fire in his eyes conveyed that much.
"Our family has it's complications." Aerys responded with a sigh while leaning back into his chair now. "My father is heir to the throne. Yet with every day that the King grows weaker, the tensions between him and my father seem to grow stronger. I know my uncle and he won't be eager to see his brother on the throne." Aerys didn't give Alysanne any thought. The very idea that she could make a move was beyond his line of thinking. Though the vision showed three heads attacking one another, he assumed his aunt would support his uncle when the time comes to challenge his father.
Aerys shook his head again. He still had doubts about this interpretation of the vision. Yet in his heart he knew it was the only he could make sense of.
Post by DARESSO SORELLION on Sept 22, 2017 15:51:00 GMT
A Fated Guest - 282 AC
It was about what he had expected. A slow nod was given as Aerys began to expound on his family’s situation. Though it was fairly predictable (as such internal strife was common enough), the information was not as complete as he had hoped. While mulling over these new revelations, a gentle hum sounded from the man’s throat as he digested these last few words. “Disputes such as these arise due to inability. Those with power will take that which others have. Those without power can only lose it. This situation is a byproduct of your uncle gaining enough influence to stamp out your father’s birthright.”
His words were simple and straightforward, so much so that even a brain dead pirate would be able to comprehend them - hopefully. Thankfully enough, the young Targaryen before him was not such a person. Though not too personally invested in the affairs of this foreign house, the red priest still held some vestige of interest. After all, Aerys had somehow stumbled across his front door. The Light had already guided him this far. Was there more to be done on Daresso’s end?
Closing his eyes to repeat the dreams and visions described to him, he’d reflect momentarily while offering a bit more council. “And what of your dearest aunt? You seem fairly dismissive of her. Should the others take the same approach, it should quite favorably for her. A sleeping dragon strikes at the most opportune moment.” Opening his eyes slowly, he’d let out a heavy sigh. Though his guest’s eyes burned with ambition and desire to act, the red priest couldn’t help but feel that the boy’s efforts were misguided.
“To remedy this situation your father must obtain power beyond questioning. Are you able to provide him such?”
As the Prince of Dragons and once in direct line to inherit the Iron Throne, Aerys's Targaryen's sudden disappearance from Westeros was a loss that hurt his family in more ways than one. After five years in Essos, the Prince has returned to his homeland with hopes to prevent another civil war.
Post by AERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 23, 2017 5:19:38 GMT
Aerys's head tilted some as his hand reached up to scratch the back of it. He contemplated what Daresso had to say while still trying to process the potential Targaryen in-fighting that would occur should the king come to pass. When would it be? Weeks? Months? Years? Aerys didn't know the answer to that. No one did. What he knew was, regardless of whether the High Priest's interpretation of his vision was to come into fruition or not, his need for power would remain.
Daresso's comments on his aunt did not fall on deaf ears, but Aerys did not reply with words. His expression reflected his continued dismissive attitude well enough. The simple fact was that the boy was still in denial of the fact his aunt and uncle would cross his father and risk the entire Targaryen dynasty by waging war against one another. Not only that, but with two male heirs she couldn't possibly make a claim. It wasn't that she thought his aunt weak or formidable. It was the simple fact that her hat in the ring would not change what Aerys needed to prevent the future he had seen.
"No. . ." Aerys answered with a low voice as his attention shifted back to the red priest when poised with his last question. Power beyond questioning. If he wanted to see his father on the throne he could do with less than that. However, if he wanted to prevent a Targaryen civil war then Daresso was spot on. "Not yet." The prince added. Aerys needed to command power. So much that none would dare oppose the true heir to the crown.
Now he knew what he needed. The question was how. There was no doubt that if such a power struggle were to take place, they would each have secured alliances with at least one of many Lord Paramounts through promises of power or marriage. Aerys couldn't hope to rival such strength. Not anytime soon, anyways. Such hurdles would need to be tackled in the future. For now, his questions turned to the man seated before him.
"I appreciate your wisdom, High Priest." Aerys spoke genuinely. He came in with doubts and curiosities and would leave with enlightenment. This was more than he could say for the High Septon back in King's Landing. "What interest do you have in Westerosi affairs? It seems you favor me, but why?" When Guinevere suddenly began to urge Aerys to meet with the High Priest in Volantis, he wasn't given a clear reason why. It was important to her and after what she had done for him he was obligated to accept.
"What do you want from me?" Purple eyes narrowed onto Daresso. Much like when Guinevere nursed him back to health, Aerys's first reaction was regarding what he would owe. In King's Landing, nobody did anyone favors without some sort of payment being expected in return. Whether it was gold or political capital or a simple exchange of favors. Things may have been different here in Essos and among the followers of R'hllor, but everyone had motives.
Post by DARESSO SORELLION on Sept 24, 2017 5:40:47 GMT
A Fated Guest - 282 AC
A chuckle sounded from the High Priest’s throat as he waved a hand dismissively at the barrage of questions the youth had put forth. Though Aerys’ intentions were not bad, his interpretation of the world could use a bit of… work. Things weren’t always as the Targaryen had described – a give and take that he had thoroughly familiarized himself with among the conniving circle of nobles out west. Seeing how his nonchalant attitude hadn’t left the youth satisfied however, he’d let out a sigh before sitting upright in his seat and staring back into his esteemed guest’s eyes. “The world isn’t always about give and take. Any other red priest would have done the same. As a shepherd tends to his flock, we too must guide those that bask in the light of the Lord. It is only natural.”
Pausing a moment as if to reflect on his own words, he’d nod once with a sense of self conviction before continuing on. His words were less sermonizing this time and perhaps more soft upon catching the old habits he had fallen into. Considering how the Targaryen was not a believer, expressing such firm resolution in something his audience had yet to accept would result in a chasm. As for now, he’d have to guide from the shadows with subtle yet firm hand. Only after the white haired youth had openly sought the Light could he extend a hand to pull him from the depths of ignorance.
“But if you must know, a vision of from not too long ago highlighted your arrival. It foretold that your presence would lead me to something of note. As for what?...” A helpless shrug was made, for Daresso himself remained in the dark. "With that in mind... tell me young Targaryen. Where next shall the winds of fate bring us?" A broad grin formed upon the High Priest's face as he shamelessly announced his intentions.
Regardless of the youth's immediate response, Daresso would extend the warmth and hospitality of the Red Temple. Perhaps the winds of fate would remain still for now. Considering the boy's current appearance, the young Targaryen could use a bit of rest anyway.
As the Prince of Dragons and once in direct line to inherit the Iron Throne, Aerys's Targaryen's sudden disappearance from Westeros was a loss that hurt his family in more ways than one. After five years in Essos, the Prince has returned to his homeland with hopes to prevent another civil war.
Post by AERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 26, 2017 22:27:02 GMT
It was funny. Guinevere's response to Aery inquiring about what she wanted was similar. Perhaps these followers of R'hllor were genuine after all. More likely it was that their motives remained unclear to the boy. Aerys held onto cynical thoughts until he was more familiar with these people. For now, he smiled and graciously accepted the Daresso's offer of hospitality.
"Thank you, High Priest. The path fate has set for us remains unlit. I'll seek out the answer in the temple's library" Aerys said with a nod. A temple as grand as this was certain to have a library. Besides the maesters. It was time the Taragaryen prince took some time from his travels to breathe and learn. At Daresso's command, a servant of R'hllor came to escort the boy to where he was staying.
It was in the Red Temple of Volantis that he would spend recovering and reading. Until it was time to make a move. Before Aerys knew it a week had passed. In that time, Aerys had learned much of Essos. Both about the present and it's history as well as the legends that these lands carried. He had also met with Daresso often and had come to know the High Priest better than when they first spoke. Though their talks were brief, every word exchanged helped brought the two to a better understanding of one another.
Aerys had ran into the High Priest on his way out of the library now. The Targaryen now able to walk without the limp he had dragging him along when first coming into the man's inner sanctum. He stood tall with straightened posture and life in his eyes. It was because of the Fiery Hand that he was able to eventually sleep. The paranoia of being strangled in his sleep by the shapeshifting assassin slowly escaping Aerys.
"High Priest." Aerys greeted the man, a book tucked underneath his arm. "I was just on my way to your inner sanctum." With his free hand he gestured for Daresso to walk along with him. The halls of the temple were littered with men and women. Slaves and free men. Though they were all Slaves of R'hllor according to the priests he had met here. Even the thousand that Daresso commanded, the Fiery Hand, with their spear tips shaped as flames, were but slaves. Such practice was outlawed in Westeros, but Aerys found it interesting how R'hllor handled slavery. It was one of, if not the only, establishment where slaves found higher purpose and perhaps even happiness.
Post by DARESSO SORELLION on Sept 28, 2017 16:01:31 GMT
A Fated Guest - 282 AC
Things had proceeded with a relative sense of normality over the past week or so. With the new fledgling recovering under his wing, Daresso found little else to do save for returning to his daily routine within the temple. Giving the young Targaryen some space to recuperate, it was only a week later that the two had crossed paths once more.
Nodding with acknowledgement while passing, he’d pause for a moment upon hearing that his attention was needed. “Oh? What a pleasant surprise.” A look of amusement came across the red priest’s face as he’d crack into a warm smile while turning about to change direction. His red orbs curiously glanced upon the tome tucked under the princeling’s arm as he’d motion for the two of them to delve deeper into the temple’s confines.
Behind him, two guards of the renowned Fiery Hand paused briefly with hesitation. Already aware of their discreet and doubting looks, the High priest simply waved his hand with a dismissive attitude while speaking out with a tone clearly lacking in urgency. “The matters of today can wait. Have Zana see to things in my stead.” With a single nod, one of the guards proceeded along their original path while the other remained. Clearly no stranger of shirking responsibility, a playful laugh sounded from Daresso’s voice as he’d tilt his head, indicating that the two should proceed.
His were steps still calm and measured, setting the pace for the trio now walking along towards the inner sanctum. Though some casual words passed between the two, little of any real importance was touched upon, at least on Daresso’s end. Considering how his guest had sought an audience with the High Priest within his inner sanctum, he hadn’t bothered asking about the youth’s true reason for visiting him yet. Though the Red Temple itself was a form of sanctuary, he wasn’t foolish enough to think it invulnerable to prying eyes and overly curious ears. "I see that you're recovering rather well. It's about that time I suppose. Considering your innate distrust regarding debts, I've already itemized a bill tallying your medical treatment and stay as we would any other guest seeking shelter within these walls." A hearty laugh sounded as he'd casually pass a bit of parchment over to the Targaryen. What would meet his eyes was an extensive, thoroughly marked list of things he had needed during his stay. The total however was a bit inaccurate, in a good sense. Had the High Priest made a mistake? The sum at the bottom indicated an amount so paltry that even the poorest of paupers would have little difficulty compensating the Red Temple.
As the Prince of Dragons and once in direct line to inherit the Iron Throne, Aerys's Targaryen's sudden disappearance from Westeros was a loss that hurt his family in more ways than one. After five years in Essos, the Prince has returned to his homeland with hopes to prevent another civil war.
Post by AERYS TARGARYEN on Sept 30, 2017 4:52:16 GMT
The paranoia stricken Targaryen had eased up during his time at the Red Temple. Where he had once twisted Guinevere's arm upon waking and discovering her as his savior, he could now walk among a crowd with even his back turned towards one of Daresso's guards. The gaunt look in his face when he first came to the temple had left him. Now he appeared as strong as a dragon should have been.
"Aha, very funn-wait..." Aerys said, his chuckle at what he thought to be a joke quickly dying off when a bill was passed his way. The smile that had faded quickly returned when he realized what it was. Daresso had given him a bill, but it was one Aerys could afford even without needing to dip into his family's funds. "I'll see to it that this debt is paid twice over." Aerys spoke as if he was some generous king before exploding into a fit of laughter.
Perhaps he had gotten too comfortable here or his senses had dulled since his earlier poisoning. Maybe Daresso's little prank was just that engaging. Whatever it was, Aerys was none the wiser when the Fiery Hand warrior Daresso had vouched for as one of his most veteran and trusted soldiers began to pace towards the boy, flame shaped spear in tow.
"Now then. Regarding busi--" No matter how dramatic or subtle the High Priest's reaction to his guard approaching Aerys was, the boy would pick up on it. He had little time to react, though, and the spear would plunge into his shoulder as he maneuvered away from what would have been a fatal blow to his heart. Despite the man's appearance and voice having been unchanged, Aerys knew. It was him. The shapeshifter that had haunted him all these weeks.
What began as a scream out of pain turned into a war cry, as Aerys reached for the man's weapon that had been lodged into him, holding it in place. The shapeshifter would find that the Targaryen's strength wasn't hindered by exhaustion no longer and simply pulling out the weapon would not happen.
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