Eighth Moon, 109 AD (8 AC)
Aegor
The glass candle flared to life, an unpleasant bright light that had sparked seemingly out of thin air, rising from the top of a twisted piece of red obsidian, with dark sharp edges. The colors became all strange. White became as bright as freshly fallen snow, yellow gleamed like the gold of the Rock, reds burned like flames, and shadows were devouring black holes that consumed everything around them.
All around the room, Aegor saw several other lights flare to life and twist the colors even further as his parents and siblings activated their own candles, but he paid them no heed. He focused on the candle at his own table as he reached his mind out into it, his hand outstretched on the table as if casting a spell. Within moments he was elsewhere and everywhere.
At the back of his mind, he was still vaguely aware of his body's presence in that room in Summerhall but the vast majority of his consciousness felt like it was being scattered across the world.
Mountains, forests, cities, seas, and more passed by in an instant. Dark terrors one should never witness flashed into the fiery blaze of lava and magma in the heart of a volcano. Lands both familiar and not, cities both dear and foreign, all zoomed by as the glowing light of the candle took him for a wild ride around the world.
Many had gone insane trying to use a glass candle before. Aegor refused to ever be one of them.
He closed his eye and shut out his awareness of Summerhall, putting all of his focus into willing the candle to stop. In an instant everything froze. The chaotic clairvoyance froze into a stable scrying somewhere above Essos.
As easily as walking, Aegor moved his mind's eye across the globe, his path lit by the light of the candle, once erratic and defiant, now gentle and submissive. He took care to avoid certain areas of the world. Yeen and the Green Hell, Asshai and the Shadowlands, the Lands of Always Winter, the Doom, and more. Dark, twisted things dwelt in those fell lands and drawing their notice with a glass candle was unwise. Experience had taught his family that, as his parents had had close encounters a few times when they had dared intrude too far and had warned them against attempting the same.
But apart from them? The rest of the world was his to behold as he pleased. There were limits of course, there was a reason Jaenara Belaerys had had to explore Sothoryos after all. If the lands in question were unknown entirely to the user, it was difficult at best to guide the candle to focus upon it. The more familiar they were with a place, the easier it would be to go there.
Much of this lore was new to his family's knowledge. The six glass candles they had had previously had been only the beginning. They had retrieved many more glass candles from Maegon's lost vault beneath Dragonstone, in all colors and sizes (though they had found that those differences were usually just aesthetic). Perhaps even more importantly, tucked away within the endless bookshelves of the vault's library had been the lore on how to make more of them and use them to their fullest potential.
That was why Aegor could do all of this with such ease now. No longer would they have to struggle and chafe against their own candle, like a bull rider hanging on for dear life. Now with the lore they had learned, the spells and methods they had mastered, they could bend the candles to their will effortlessly and make them work for them rather than against them.
The possibilities were infinite, so many things that would have required a lifetime of mastery and focus to even attempt before were now possible to even a novice because they could dedicate their full focus to the task at hand rather than constantly straining against the candle itself and its wild visions of the world entire.
They could scry and see clairvoyantly ever closer and, in more detail, than before. With enough practice, a master candle user might even be able to hear sounds instead of just seeing things, allowing them to eavesdrop on conversations a world away. Their communication was more enhanced and easier than before, allowing them to track down other glass candle users or hide themselves from them in turn and it could even allow them to project an astral apparition of themselves to speak as an illusion in the minds of those without candles at all.
This in turn led to an enhanced ability to manipulate and read the minds of others, allowing them to give men visions and dreams, or glean their thoughts and deepest secrets with greater ease and from greater distances than ever before. A master might even be able to alter their existing dreams and thoughts entirely and slowly twist that person into something else entirely.
What his mother had done to the captured skinchangers they had captured would pale in comparison to what they could do now, and what they would be able to do once they had fully assimilated all of their new knowledge and mastered all the new techniques.
And it couldn't be used just to harm but also to heal and protect as well. With more finesse and power than ever before, they had easily healed what had remained of Valaena's mental scars from the skinchangers that had left her shaking and collapsing. Her health had never been better, and it would never be at risk again.
Their glass candles could build shields and mental barriers around their minds that would make them nigh impervious to foreign influences and mental attacks such as skinchanging or other glass candles unless a truly adept candle-user attacked them. The glass candles could easily detect skinchangers and even drive them out of their animals or see through the glamours of the Faceless Men and other guises and attack their minds directly.
Repeated use would reinforce the shields around their minds and in time it could even grant them a sixth sense of sorts, a passive ability to read the intentions of others easier or detect magical presences without even actively using a glass candle.
And for a dragonrider like Aegor, the candles had another particularly favored capability as well. As he guided his candlesight back to Summerhall, he focused on the Dragonwood where all the eleven dragons of his family were resting. All of them took notice of him, their senses on alert for magical presences ever since the skinchangers had attacked his family.
He knew that kin to their riders or not, if he dared try to intrude into the minds of any of the dragons present here, they would tear him apart and rend his mind as easily as they had done the skinchangers. The only difference would be how long it would take them to do it. Dreamfyre and Telarion might struggle for some time while Balerion or Meraxes would crush him like a bug the second he even approached.
One dragon was an exception, however. While the other ten dragons had greeted him with recognition but also wariness, his dear Arrax had immediately perked up like an eager puppy, pleased to feel his presence so closely. Somewhere deep within his being, Aegor could feel the connection between them burn warmly and brightly and he knew that with this bond he would be able to find Arrax with a glass candle no matter where in the world he went. No matter how far Arrax ever went from him, they would never be truly parted now. He would be able to feel his presence, speak to him, give him commands and call him to his side from anywhere in the world.
As he started pulling away from Arrax, he could see his dragon's disappointment and chuckled.
'Later,' he thought to himself, making sure to transmit the thought through the bond and the glass candle.
There would be plenty of time for him to spend with his dragon when he was done with his magic lessons for the day. In person too, not through a glass candle.
As his clairvoyance came to an end and his mind's eye returned to his body, Aegor opened his eye to see the light of the glass candle perfectly extinguished.
His mother spoke on his left then, shocking him a little as she was on his blindspot, though he did his best not to show it.
"You did well."
Aegor turned to look at her, and he saw the expression of love and quiet pride on her face. He did not speak, but he nodded his thanks.
Things were… better between him and his mother now. For the whole family really.
Their parents had arrived within days of them informing them of their discovery of Maegon's vault and the whole family had proceeded to eagerly explore and catalogue all the vast treasures within. Maegon had truly been a most paranoid and selfish bastard for within the vault was everything that you would imagine one of the Forty Families to possess.
There were untold numbers of magical artifacts, rings, bracelets, dragonhorns, scrolls, grimoires, tomes, books, glass candles, texts about Valyria's culture, traditions, and histories, and so much more. A massive stockpile of dragonbone, scales, and hide had been found as well, the remains of the other four dragons Aenar the Exile had brought from Valyria that had all died of old age over the course of the century of Blood. There were even two suits of Valyrian steel armor and the lore and methods for enchanting and crafting dragonhorns, glass candles, and even dragonstone and Valyrian steel.
Altogether the vault was a priceless and immeasurable treasure trove, one that truly solidified their family's place as the Last of the Forty Families, the Heirs of Valyria.
But discovery was only the first step. Possessing was not nearly enough; a text on the creation of Valyrian steel did not suddenly make them capable of making that famous metal, nor would grimoires on blood and fire magic suddenly allow them to rival the greatest pyromancers of Old Valyria. They had to learn from it, assimilate it, master it. And mastery, would take a lifetime.
At the very least however, they could get started on it. For the past year, their parents had overseen the copying and preservation of the contents of Maegon's vault to ensure it could never be lost again and moving what they could to Summerhall.
Once their Dragonguard had reported Summerhall secure and they had felt confident in what little they had learned with their new glass candle lore, the entire family had returned in triumph to their home. Where they had once fled in fear from their own home that had been desecrated and violated by their enemies, now they returned proud and confident that none would ever be able to threaten them like that again.
Except for the rare occasions when they had needed to fly out to put down raids from the Reach and Faith Militant or crush what revolts lingered in the lands they controlled, their parents had spent near every waking day they could with all of them. They had sought their input and worked with them to oversee the copying and moving of the vault's treasures all over Dragonstone, the Isle of Queens, and Summerhall.
And they had personally taken all of them on as apprentices to train and master as much of the new magic and knowledge alongside them as possible. The highest echelons of glass candle magic and lore had been their greatest priority after all the suffering their family had endured because of the accursed skinchangers.
All of them, even Aemon and Elaena, had become greatly accomplished with the candles and they all had strong mental shields and were quickly developing the passive sixth sense that came with constant use of glass candles.
Training together so much with the glass candles had helped immensely in restoring their bonds as a family. For the first time in years, it felt to Aegor and all of his siblings that their parents put them first before their conquest. After all, they had suspended all of their campaigns and given up their momentum to train with them and master magic for the past year. Even if he wondered if they'd have done that if they had never found the vault, they fact they had meant something to them.
They'd never truly held their parents' conquering against them, how could they when it had been the dream they had been raised on themselves? When it would benefit them so much? Yet they had been hurt and traumatized beyond anything any child should endure and their parents had left them when they needed them.
Finally, their parents had returned to them, helped them get better, and through the glass candles, they had understood them better than ever before. When multiple people used the same glass candle at the same time, such as during training, their thoughts would be in sync and it would connect them in a truly intimate way, allowing all emotions and feelings to pass freely without even needing words.
This phenomenon could be controlled of course, especially with the level of lore they now had access to. Tempered down to simply a professional understanding rather than a deep lasting bond. Their parents had hidden nothing however, revealing in full their love for them and their despair and anger that they had had to leave them behind in order to save their dream. And the eight of them in turn had been able to unload their own feelings and frustrations on their parents, and on each other. No words had had to be spoken.
Aegor had certainly never spoken with his mother about it. He understood her feelings and she understood his and that was all that mattered. Neither of them had really been the type to speak about them openly, not with each other at least. And that was enough. It had to be.
He didn't resent his mother or his father and aunt anymore. But that didn't mean he had forgotten it even if he had forgiven them. It was just something that would always be there, something he could never escape. He was used to that by now though, a slight crease in the otherwise perfect relationship he had rebuilt with his family was nothing in the face of what he had lost.
Aegor caught sight of the vanity in the corner as he rose from his seat. The emerald gleamed in the socket where his left eye should have been, fearsome scars all about his tattered left eyelid and skin. A near permanent scowl had formed on his face now, something that rarely went away no matter how happy he might be because no amount of joy could ever bring him true peace anymore.
In his memories he still remembered the gut-wrenching betrayal his own pet had dealt him. The guilt and grief he felt when he remembered that it hadn't been his fault, that he had been controlled by skinchangers warred against the natural hatred and prejudices that had arisen within his soul. He just felt so angry these days, and with his family and him now reconciled, his anger now burned hotter than ever at the only acceptable targets left. The enemies of his house, the Faith Militant and all their cronies, and the North and the damnable skinchangers who had done this to him.
He had hoped that the vault might change that, that their ancestors might have created some rituals or spells to regrow lost eyes or created some artifacts that could restore his vision if not, but it hadn't been meant to be. Such skill in flesh shaping it seemed had not been the specialty of House Targaryen. There were texts and references indicating it might be possible for them to learn how to craft such things on their own but it would take years of study and mastery for it to be done safely.
Perhaps one day it might happen. If Valaena's little project in enchanting the ruby necklace Aerion had gifted her succeeded, it could be a stepping stone to making his emerald eye mean something beyond just matching with his dragon.
But until then, he had resigned himself to living as a cripple, as Aegor One-Eye, and he had done his best to accept the circumstances he was in and make the most of it. Aerion's words had been harsh, brutal, cruel even, and he had apologized for them many times. But he hadn't been wrong.
Aegor had been sulking, wasting away, barely training and feeling like his life had ended and there was no purpose in anything he was doing. Such a pointless waste of time. The world was cruel and hard, and the only way to survive was to be even crueler and harder. He had thrown himself into his training, done his best to master his disability instead of letting it master him, training and training until his muscles ached and his one good eye strained from the pressure. But in the end the results had spoken for themselves.
His hearing was better than ever, and his mind had adapted to only having one eye to judge distance. He could now rival Aerion in the yard once again, and he was a respectable match for him in almost all the magic their family was learning, including glass candles.
He watched as Aerion and the rest of their siblings slowly extinguished their glass candles as they too began to emerge from their practice and frowned when he noticed Rhaena was still lost in hers. A pained expression on her face as tears and sweat poured down her face.
'She's overdoing it again,' Aegor thought to himself unhappily.
Perhaps he of all people should not be judging others after what he had done to overcome his disability, but Rhaena was on a completely different level. She had thrown herself into mastering all the magic their family now had access to and was relentless in her training, pushing herself until she broke almost every single day. A dogged determination that was as admirable as it was terrifying.
Maybe he was a hypocrite, but he didn't want to see his beloved sister, the girl he loved burning herself out for things that had been beyond her control. If rage drove Aegor now, guilt was Rhaena's whole purpose. Her guilt that Valaena and Aerion had almost died because of the cat she had left in their room, and even that Aegor himself had lost his eye rushing to try and save them.
It had paid off, it made her by far the best mage in the family outside of his mother, but Rhaena was only eleven and Aegor could not help but want to protect her from all of this pain.
He reached out to her and shook her hard, dragging her mind and concentration forcefully away from her glass candle as he usurped her control over the candle and willed it to extinguished. Still dazed and stunned, Rhaena turned to look at him, anger at his audacity writ all over her face yet the slightest glimmer of gratitude shone in her eyes as he took out a cloth and wiped away her sweat and tears.
Aegor pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered a reminder to not overdo things. Rhaena almost seemed to melt into his tender embrace before his father's words cut through the silence in the room.
"That's enough with the glass candles for today. The eight of you have come very far and I can't even begin to say how proud I am of how attentive all of you have been and how seriously you have all taken this training. We've taken great steps and leaps, and I'm sure that now if the skinchangers or anyone else dares to try and attack us with magic, we will be much more prepared to defend ourselves."
"But glass candles aren't enough," his aunt Rhaenys spoke up. "Every now and then for the past few moons, we've been training in our other magics like pyromancy and sangromancy, but they've not been the focus. Now that all of us have reached a level we feel comfortable enough in with glass candles, it's time to make them the side study and focus on mastering our house words."
"Fire and blood," his younger brother Aenar said calmly.
"That's right. Daena, Aenar, Aemon, Elaena, the four of you will be training with Aunt Rhaenys for the basics as you are much younger and behind on these topics than your elder siblings. Aerion, Valaena, Aegor, Rhaena, you'll be with your father and I," said his mother.
As they separated across the room, Aegor watched briefly as his youngest siblings trained in basic exercises while his parents trained him and the other three eldest in more advanced lore that they had learned in the vault.
They put on various artifacts, rings, amulets, and bracelets made from Valyrian steel, gold, dragonbone, obsidian, and rubies that glowed with fiery power. All inscribed with Valyrian glyphs and symbols of power. Artifacts that were designed to boost their affinity for the magic they were practicing.
The amulets and bracelets they wore were made of dragonbone primarily, set with Valyrian steel that held them together, and inlaid with rubies and banded with gold. Apart from the gold, none of these substances were for show. Valyrian steel was a magical and fiery metal and one key for use in catalysts and artifacts, helping not just to provide a setting and support for the artifact on a mundane level, but an arcane as well.
The dragonbones were parts of dragons, fire made flesh, and they helped resonate the magic in their blood and body with the most magical and fiery creature the world had ever known. Obsidian was frozen fire and could provide a power source for fire magic. The rubies were blood-red and had been infused with their blood and that of their dragons, keying the artifacts solely to them and strengthening the bond between them, allowing them to draw more on their dragons' vast reservoirs of magical power to empower their own magic, especially pyromancy.
They meditated together, using the artifacts to connect with their dragons on a deeper level and strengthen their bonds, on occasion even using the glass candles again to help with the process.
Of course, they did not truly need those artifacts to draw on their dragons' strength and fire, nor did they need them to control and produce flames at all. They had always been able to do that, even before the vault had been opened. But the new artifacts and lore had given them greater power and control and there was no reason for them to not use them to the fullest.
Fire and blood were the roots of all Valyrian magic and the powers the vault had revealed possible were incredible. With fire magic they could one day perhaps after decades of study and training draw power from the heat and magic of volcanoes to fuel their spells and rituals. With alchemy and pyromancy both, they could bend wildfire to their will and give it whatever properties they wished when it was created as Maegon had done in the vault and with a strengthened bond with their dragons, they could even manipulate the flames their dragons breathed.
And with blood, the possibilities were even more endless. They could draw upon blood and ignite it to fuel a powerful form of fire, one that was easy to control compared to some others, especially if it was made from their own blood. They could use it actively, manipulate and bending either their own blood or that of others, allowing them to shape whips, tendrils, spikes, shields and more, twist the bodies of their enemies against them and boil their blood where they stood, or sacrifice it all for dark rituals and spells to obtain greater power and lay down curses, enchantments, or more.
Everything they had learnt so far had been but a fraction of what their ancestors had mastered, what they might one day be able to master if they had what it took to pay the cost.
Blood magic demanded life's blood to fuel its power and they only had so much of their own to give no matter the number of potions or flesh shaping rituals or spells they used to enhance their own bodies and bone marrows to produce more blood. There was a reason why their ancestors had turned to sacrificing so many millions of slaves to fuel their dark empire. Blood was used in tandem with fire in shadowbinding, it was mixed with other ingredients in the fusing of dragonstone and the forging of Valyrian steel, it was used as a catalyst and power source for rituals, enchantments, flesh shaping biomancy, curses and so much more.
Not all blood was equal though. The blood of the dragon was by far the greatest and most powerful for sacrificial magic, along with some other magic-rich bloodlines the Valyrians had encountered in the past like the water wizards of the Rhoynar and presumably the skinchangers and other mages across the Known World. Even just a few drops would often be enough to power feats that would seem incredible to those who could wield no magic. But such blood was rare to come by and to spill the blood of the dragon wantonly had been looked down upon their ancestors.
And so, they had turned to the blood of animals and when they had found animals did not have the power and efficiency they desired, they turned to slaves. Millions had been sacrificed on the altar of magic, burnt for progress and power. Enough that even Aegor and his family balked at the level of cruelty many of their ancestors were so flippant about in the texts, speaking of it as if it were the weather.
They did not quite need the same level of sacrifice for what they aimed to achieve, and Aegor was certain that his parents would find a way to achieve higher levels of magic without the excessive evils of their ancestors. Slavery and mass human sacrifice had no place in the Empire they sought to create, they would simply have to make do with their own blood, the blood of animals, and the blood of the vilest criminals and enemies they encountered.
As Aegor and his siblings made to begin their practice with their theory, meditation, and other preparations complete however, their father stopped them.
"Today we will be doing something different. A proper spar. Two teams," he said.
Almost automatically, Rhaena came to stand next to him and he saw Valaena doing much the same with Aerion but his mother shook her head.
"Those teams are unbalanced. Aerion and Valaena are too much older and have too much experience in magic. Aerion and Aegor would be unfair to the girls as well with their physical advantages."
"I concur. Rhaena, Valaena, switch places," their father ordered.
Aegor looked a little awkwardly at Valaena, it wasn't often that he was paired with her but she was his sister as much as she was Aerion's and he was certain that they would work well together. He noticed Aerion had a cocky smirk on his face that made Aegor want to wipe it off his smug face before he realized Aerion was staring at Valaena and not him.
Interesting.
Looking straight ahead of himself, he locked eyes with Rhaena, her violet eyes filled with the usual relentless determination. He felt his own competitive spirit rising sharply. It might be his duty to protect Rhaena, but that didn't mean he was going to just let her win.
"You can do anything, within reason, so long as you stay within these bounds and do not cross either of us to disturb your siblings at the other side of the room," his mother said as she and his father took up their positions in the middle of the room.
"Just remember. In the heat of battle or when you are trying to protect yourself from an assassin, you move for the kill. But the people in front of you right now are not your enemies in truth. They are your sparring partners, they are your kin, your blood, your family, and your future spouses. Any permanent harm you bring upon them is harm you have dealt to yourself. This exercise will test not just your power, but your control," their father said, looking momentarily hesitant about actually letting them spar with each other using potentially dangerous magic before he steeled his resolve.
"Begin."
It started slowly, the four of them circling each other warily. Aegor tried reaching out for the blood of Aerion and Rhaena, to bend it to his will and force them into submission but they batted his attempts aside.
"Nice try," Aerion said snarkily.
Aegor couldn't help but chuckle. He should have known it wouldn't be that simple. Trained blood mages wouldn't just let their own blood be controlled so easily after all.
He fingered the Valyrian steel ring on his right hand, flicking open the hidden thorn in its rim that could easily cut into his skin and give him the power he needed but the more blood he used, the weaker his body would become as the duel progressed. It was playing with death if they overdid it, one of many reasons their ancestors had not often used their own blood to power their magic despite its potency.
Deciding to conserve his blood for now, Aegor suddenly thrust his arm forward in a furious punch, reaching his will into the obsidian and waking the frozen fire within before pushing it towards Aerion and Rhaena in a single fluid motion.
Rhaena dodged, while Aerion deflected the flames around him with his will. Valaena followed up with her own assault, hastily cutting into her flesh with her ringblade and igniting her blood into a stream of bloodfire while she woke even more fire from her own obsidian and unleashed them all in a fiery barrage on Aerion.
For a moment the image of blood drops marring pure cloud white feathers hovered in his mind before he dispelled it and focused on the spar.
It wasn't long before the 'twins' began trading blows of fire and blood magic at each other. Their duel looking more sensual than aggressive however and Aegor thought it almost looked more like they were dancing with each other rather than fighting. They looked more like they wanted to make out than win in his opinion.
His duel with Rhaena was very different in contrast. Fierce and relentless, Rhaena fired her own magic back at him but with his greater size and strength and the combat training from the yard, Aegor soon had her backed into a corner.
Desperate, Rhaena pricked her fingertip with her ringblade and unleashed a barrage of blood that pushed Aegor back. It started solidifying and coiling around him and Aegor panickingly unleashed all that remained of his obsidian frozen fire to burn it all away.
Rhaena looked winded, the amount of blood she had used for that desperate push must have weakened her immensely while Aegor was still fresh where blood was concerned. With respect for his sister's skills, Aegor finally cut his own hand and ignited his blood into the dark crimson flames they all knew so well at this point. Bloodfire.
They were dragonlords. Their blood was the most suited of all races of men in the whole word for pyromancy and only a few drops were required to produce and sustain a tremendous flame and Aegor was bleeding quite a little more than just a few drops. The more he bled, the more the fire burned. On top of that, the artifacts from earlier were still relevant, perhaps more than ever, strengthening and stabilizing the connection between him and Arrax and increasing his affinity with the art of pyromancy. His flames burned hotter and stronger than ever while Rhaena looked exhausted.
He threw fireball after fireball at his much smaller and weaker sister, feeling a bit bad as she struggled to dodge and return his attacks with spikes and whips of blood that he burnt away with ease. While he normally took pleasure in crushing his opponents, imagining it was Brandon Snow or the Faith Militant he was annihilating, Rhaena was different and it just felt wrong to be bullying her like this. Nonetheless he did not hold back and kept on unleashing his flames until Rhaena had all but given up and was kneeling on the ground.
Aegor was ready to step forward and demand her surrender when his world suddenly filled with flame. Hundreds of burning jabs pierced through his body all over before he felt something coil around the very blood in his leg as his focus slipped and pulled him forward. He fell onto the floor hard and when he finally came to, Rhaena stood above him, a sharp spike of solidified and deadly looking blood extended from her pricked finger right up to his neck.
He couldn't help but laugh as he yielded. He had underestimated Rhaena and he'd paid the price for it. Aegor wasn't even sure how exactly she had gotten him but she had. He let her pull him to his feet and was about to congratulate her on her victory when she suddenly fainted right into his arms, looking paler than he had ever seen her.
His father hurriedly rushed to his side as his mother shouted at the twins to stop.
"What's wrong with her?" Aegor asked, worried as his parents force fed Rhaena potions and healed the cuts and slight burns all over her body with the limited flesh shaping they had learnt.
"Silly girl used too much blood. She'll be alright with some blood replenishing potions and lots of food, water, and rest for the next few days," his mother diagnosed.
Aegor shook his head in dismay. "She overworked herself earlier with the glass candle as well."
"You should have told us that, Aegor," his father rebuked him gently. "We would not have had had her train like this if we had known." He sighed.
"And yet it has been producing results. Did either of you realize what exactly she did in the spar? She manipulated her blood on a level that astounds even me, subtly layering it all over you Aegor. Each time you burned away her attacks, at least some of her blood would remain on you without your realizing and when she had enough, she ignited them into bloodfire remotely, compressing the flames into an explosive force that would both burn and unbalance you before she took advantage of your distraction and pulled the blood in your leg towards her to trip you."
Aegor was in awe. "That's an incredible strategy."
"A foolish and risky one if anything given the amount of blood required, but it showed an incredible talent and mastery for magic," his mother conceded. "And against anyone else, someone who couldn't use the same magic as her as most of our enemies would be, it would have taken much less blood and she wouldn't be in this state." His mother almost sounded impressed.
Yet as impressive as it was, it had still almost killed her. Rhaena was herself so hard to master their family's magic and it worried him. She was still carrying all the guilt from that day and none of them had been able to help her, not even Valaena's attempts to speak with her using a glass candle to connect their thoughts had worked and Aerion wondered if Rhaena had become skilled enough with the candle to hide the true depths of her emotions from the rest of them.
She didn't need to push herself so much, he thought to himself as he tried to think of a way to reach out to her. Their whole family was learning magic at a rapid pace and they had even begun training some of their most talented and trustworthy Rangers, Eyes, and Dragonguard limited fundamentals of blood, fire, and glass candle magic.
Glass candles would give the three elite units tremendous advantages in interrogation, espionage, surveillance, communication, and anti-magic operations, while blood and fire magic had many other applications in combat and more. Overall, it would enhance their ability to perform their roles as their most trusted spies and bodyguards tremendously yet the risks were significant as well.
That was why they were only teaching a small portion of each unit magic, and only after meticulously and rather invasively scanning their minds for treachery or treasonous thoughts with glass candles to ensure their loyalty. His mother was even trying to research blood oaths that would bind their most trusted servants to them and curse them for breaking the oath, based on old texts in the vault about similar magics in Old Valyria.
Regardless however, all three units' ranks had swelled and the military had recovered well, taking advantage of the year-long break in major campaigns to regroup and reposition themselves with the Vale and all the other defiant regions fully subjugated and consolidated.
They had even started sharing pieces of their knowledge with their Qohorik Royal Armorer, Taro Mott, as well as the Alchemists' Guild so that experiments for the recreation of Valyrian steel and manipulation of wildfire's properties could begin in earnest.
It was almost ironic in some ways, Aegor could not help but think. Brandon Snow's attack on their family had been devastating yet in the long run it had made untouchable by any skinchanger, greenseer, Faceless Man, or shadowbinder. It had restored them to their true glory as the last heirs of Valyria and given them the break his parents hadn't realized they had needed, allowing their armies to regroup and stabilize the frontlines.
Their family was more secure than ever for all that they were technically in a state of war with most of the rest of the continent. Sometimes he almost thought that was worth losing his eye for.
But how could he help Rhaena see all that?
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A few days later, Rhaena was still bedridden and very cross when she was told she couldn't accompany them for dragonriding training but her mother had put her foot down and sicced the Dragonguard on her to make sure she stayed in bed. The rest of them meanwhile had taken to the skies.
The wind blew firmly against his remaining eye as they soared through the sky at terrifying speeds. Aegor ordered Arrax into a series of maneuvers, lacing his commands with spells of dragonlore and magic to compel his immediate obedience.
He didn't really like doing this, but it was part of his training and he wouldn't lie and say that there weren't times that Arrax didn't get a little stubborn and rowdy. They didn't call him the Black Scourge for nothing. Being able to immediately command his obedience would be invaluable in battle and could mean the difference between life and death but it also gave Aegor a level of control over his dragon that unnerved him at times because Arrax's battle instincts were often better than his own by far.
He supposed spells were better than having to whip him as if he was his slave, as he and his family had had to do previously whenever their dragons were disobedient and their will alone would not make them heel. Now their whips were all but forgotten entirely and the Valyrian commands they had once trained their dragons to obey were intermingled with spells and laced with magic.
Despite all of that however, Aegor was more than aware of his own flaws, especially considering that half of his vision was gone. It was why he preferred to work on strengthening his bond with Arrax instead of dominating him, so they could act in concert and unison in all their endeavors. It also let him do a few nifty tricks.
Muttering a spell in Valyrian, Aegor cast his mind out along his dragonbond with Arrax in a similar way that he normally would with the glass candles. He closed his good eye and when his vision returned, he got to experience again for a little while what it felt like to have two eyes.
The world looked more colorful to him, with colors he couldn't even describe for they were beyond what the human eye could normally see. Vivid violets, bright blues, raging reds, and more. And he could see the heat in the world around him, in all his fellow dragons flying around and the fleshy humans they carried on their backs. How quaint and fragile their humans were, yet they loved them so dearly all the same.
He was seeing the world through Arrax's eyes… or was he Arrax himself? It was like they were two halves of one whole, two different skins housing the same mind.
The dragon's scaly eyes blinked and in the next moment Aegor found himself back in his own body, experiencing a momentary whiplash as he reoriented himself. His thoughts far away as he thought on what just happened. In the heat of battle, having two eyes and all the proper distance judgement that gave would be useful for him to guide Arrax better as his rider, but he wondered if his ability to do that indicated something more.
It had been a surprise when his family had found notes about Hardhome, a settlement beyond the Wall, in the various Valyrian texts they had recovered from the vault. Some three hundred years ago, the settlement had been the closest the wildlings had ever come to forming a true town before a mysterious event had burned down the settlement leaving only charred corpses and trees behind with a fire so bright the Night's Watch had seen it and ashes that had fallen all over the Haunted Forest for half a year.
The vault's histories indicated that Hardhome had actually been raided by Valyrian slavers, including at least one dragonlord, Lord Freeholder Laegar of House Targaryen, their ancestor. There would normally be little reason for a dragonlord, let alone the head of one of the Forty Families, to partake in such a measly slave raid in a backwater region of the world, yet Lord Laegar hadn't just participated in this particular raid. He had personally sponsored it.
They had found family records and even fragments of his private journal that had detailed his obsession. In the ever-cutthroat political environment of Old Valyria where families waxed and waned constantly, Lord Laegar had sought out an advantage that would make House Targaryen greater than any of their rivals. Having heard tales of the skinchangers and greenseers of Westeros, he had sought to capture some so that he could experiment on them with blood magic and see if there was any way to acquire their abilities for House Targaryen or use them as inspiration to create new spells with Valyrian magic and dragonlore that would mimic their effects.
This had happened before according to the histories. Those of the Forty Families who had led the Second Spice War against the Rhoynar had become dominant in Valyrian politics for centuries afterward due to the prestige and wealth gained from the riches of the sacked Rhoynish cities. They had also gotten the lion's share in captured Rhoynish water wizards to serve as their slaves and specimens for experimentation as well as texts on water magic, which had eventually led to the development of new forms of blood magic, particularly its manipulation and bending into many shapes and roles beyond just powering other types of magic as a sacrifice.
While these new magical arts had inevitably spread across all of Valyria in time, it had given wealth and prestige to the families that had first developed them and Laegar had coveted such acclaim for their own house, considered middling among the Forty. It did not appear as if he had succeeded in that goal since Aenar the Exile had still been considered a middling dragonlord by his rivals when he left Valyria three centuries later.
Nonetheless, the remnants of Laegar's journal and the other family histories all agreed that he had indeed captured several skinchangers and even someone that he had believed to be a greenseer from Hardhome. The captured slaves had been taken back to Valyria where Laegar had dissected several and experimented on them with blood magic, trying to track down and identify the source of their abilities and attempt to reproduce them with his own.
His research had borne fruit in some ways. From his notes, they had gained a great deal of understanding on how skinchanging, greensight, and green dreams worked, as well as their connections to the weirwoods and the Children of the Forest respectively.
Laegar had conjectured that the 'Old Gods' the primitive First Men worshipped were little more than a collective hive mind of sorts made up of deceased greenseers who housed their memories and thoughts in the weirwood trees (the ever curious Laegar had taken some samples of the trees to study from Hardhome as well), and the ability to skinchange was a racial trait of the Children of the Forest, with green dreams and especially greensight a much rarer gift. It was not a completely proven theory but it had been the basis of all of his later work.
With his theory in mind, Laegar had concluded that all the skinchangers and the greenseer he had captured had inherited their abilities because somewhere in their ancestry there had been interbreeding between the First Men and the Children of the Forest. However, while both abilities had been much more common among the Children, so much so that Laegar had believed all of them could skinchange, the gifts were not perfectly hereditary among their halfbreed human descendants.
Certain families or bloodlines who had more ancestry from the Children or greater favor with the greenseer hive mind pretending to be gods or proximity to the weirwoods or even traumatic incidents and injuries all appeared to be potential factors that could awaken dormant magical bloodlines and make someone a skinchanger or even a greenseer countless generations after their last recorded ancestor with similar powers. Sometimes all of a skinchanger's children would inherit their abilities, and other times none of them would inherit them at all.
In short, it seemed much more arbitrary and random than the dragonblood the Valyrians relied on. Nonetheless however, Laegar had drawn similarities between skinchanging and the dragonbonds between dragonlords and their dragons. Both appeared to be mental and emotional links that influenced both parties and gave the rider or skinchanger significant say if not outright control over the animal's actions. There were also some shared elements between greensight, green dreams, glass candles, and dragon dreams.
The final parts of Laegar's journal had mentioned scattered ideas of drawing inspiration and samples from the abilities, traits, and blood of his skinchanger and greenseer specimens and combining them with existing Valyrian dragonlore, dragonblood, and glass candles to strengthen the bonds between dragon and rider and create new spells that would enable dragonlords to reproduce and surpass the abilities of the skinchangers and greenseers.
What exactly Laegar had done to achieve that, they weren't quite certain as most of the journal was missing and they had looked everywhere in the vault for it. They hadn't found the rest of his experimental notes, but they had eventually discovered a few finalized spells like the one Aegor had just used that let him see through the eyes of his dragon.
It was a strange experience using that spell. Sometimes it felt like he was simply able to see through his dragon's eyes but their minds remained distinct, like they were merely sharing senses not slipping into another skin altogether. Other times it felt as if he was confused about whether he was man or dragon. It sounded far too similar to the firsthand accounts of what skinchanging felt like that Laegar had written in his journal (extracted through copious amounts of torture and experimentation on his rather unwilling specimens).
In general, whether or not he considered Laegar's research, there were a lot of similarities between dragonriding and skinchanging and it gave Aegor mixed feelings. On one hand his connection to Arrax being in any way similar to what the skinchangers who had maimed him had with their animals was displeasing. Yet on the other, the idea that they had the skinchangers beat at their own game was amusing as well. It felt almost poetic.
His ancestor had captured and experimented on them to learn how their powers worked and then researched ways to replicate and surpass them entirely. And there was all of their other dragonlore and magic beside. Their glass candles and dragon dreams could easily rival if not surpass everything the greenseers and green dreamers could do that actually mattered, especially after all of Laegar's research.
Their natural bonds with their dragons even on a basic level surpassed what the skinchangers had with their animals. They could draw so much vitality and magic from their dragons and they could sense each other's emotions, intentions, and even pain without even thinking.
They might not be instinctively able to see through the eyes of their dragons or slip into their skins and control them the same way the skinchangers did their bonded familiars, but their normal dragonbonds and all of their sorcery and dragonlore gave them similar control. And if his ancestor's research indicated anything, they might very well be able to 'skinchange' their dragons anyway with practice and spells. Sure, they might not be able to control any other creatures, but did that truly matter when they had furthered their mastery of the greatest beasts to ever roam the world?
Laegar's research and ideas for strengthening dragonbonds had also been much akin to the item strapped to Aegor's belt. The absolute masterpiece of Valyria's dragonlore. A dragon horn.
The horn was warm and smooth to the touch as he brought it out from his belt to hold it in his hands. It was over three feet in length, undoubtedly made from the horn of what had to have been a respectably sized dragon. The surface had a black gleam, shiny and reflective, though the reflection it showed of his emerald eye was somehow twisted. Bands of red gold and Valyrian steel snaked all over the horn, inscribed with strange writings and Valyrian glyphs.
Enchantments, Aegor thought. Enchantments he couldn't even begin to understand.
Anyone who blew the horn that was not the blood of the dragon would die a horrendous death, their lips blistering, skin bleeding, and their lungs burning from the inside out until they charred as black as soot. The notes they had found in the vault had been very clear on that. It had made Aegor exceedingly nervous to blow it himself the first time.
Yet for those who were of the blood of the dragon, and especially those that had properly bound the horn to themselves with blood, the horn could do great and terrible things. With determination, Aegor brought the horn to his mouth and blew hard. The glyphs on the band glowed red-hot until they turned white with power and a fearsome sound emerged.
Contrary to what some might expect, dragon horns did not allow the hornblower to usurp control of bonded dragons from their riders. While the horns would inspire and motivate bonded dragons however the hornblower wished, this motivation was completely secondary to the desires of their rider still. However, it was particularly useful when controlling unbonded wild dragons and herding them around, something that was already possible though rather complex and difficult without the horns. That was perhaps where the misconception had originated.
In peacetime, the dragon horns had allowed the dragonlords of old and now Aegor's family as well to easily manage and control all the unbonded dragons and make sure no outsiders ever gained access to them. It also guaranteed an instant success for any authorized hornblower who wished to claim an unbonded dragon and did not yet have a dragon of their own.
The true power of the dragon horns however was in war. In the days of old, the legends called them hellhorns for the Valyrian dragonlords would without fail sound them before every battle, before raining death and destruction on all who heard their sound. It wasn't that hard to understand why either.
The first time he and his family had sounded the horns, they had terrified the poor people of Summerhall. They hadn't even realized it at the time because to them and their dragons, the horns sounded empowering and intoxicating, like a rallying cry to their inner fire that called them forth to war and glory, a triumphant chorus that resounded in their very souls.
Everyone else however had described a bright and baneful voice, like a shivering hot scream that made a man's bones shake within him. A terrifying shriek that made them feel as if hell itself had opened its gates beneath their feet.
Ever since they had made use of the horn's apparent inbuilt enchantments to silence the sound so that only they and their dragons could hear it but when they returned to the war, they would be doing no such things. Aegor looked forward to the reactions of their foes when they sounded the hellhorns of legend upon their arrival and rained down death and destruction like their ancestors had done to Qarlon the Great and his Andal armies or to Garin and his Rhoynar.
When used for war, a dragon horn blown by a dragonlord could instantly though temporarily 'perfect' the bond between dragon and rider and make them act in complete unison. The dragon would become completely subordinate to the rider's commands while the rider would get all the dragon's instincts and battlefield awareness, removing the sole true weakness they had. They would share all their senses and thoughts, and their hearts and souls would be filled with a powerful boost of morale and battlelust that gave them the strength and enthusiasm to fight endlessly as long as the effect lasted.
Meanwhile, all other dragons and riders who heard the horn would see their spirits and morale raised as well though not nearly to the same degree. And he supposed that though the Valyrians had preferred not to do so, it would allow the hornblower to command unbonded dragons on a battlefield and direct them towards enemies.
All these effects would only occur if willed by the hornblower and since Aegor had willed it, it happened near instantly. As soon as the horn had sounded, he had felt his bond with Arrax tighten and crystallize until he couldn't tell where he ended and his dragon began.
It was a euphoric feeling. He felt on top of the world, powerful and unstoppable. Yet also rational, filled with an intense and calculating awareness of any and all threats, the instincts of a beast melding perfectly with the logical predictions of a human.
When the horn's effects finally subsided however, Aegor began coughing furiously. Magic had a price, and the dragon horns were no exception. If the horns burned the lungs of those that weren't dragonlords, then even the dragonlords couldn't use them too much or risk damage to their lungs from the sheer might and magical firepower. The horns were absolutely exhausting and tiring to blow, and they were cumbersome too. His three-foot horn was actually among the shorter horns they had because the longer the horns were, the more bands full of glyphs they could wrap on them and the longer the effects would last.
Though Aegor was too tired to blow the horn again any time soon, his spirits were soon raised when the rest of his family started blowing the horns in turn, one after another. His own training for the day was almost done, but there was one more thing he wanted to do before he returned to Summerhall for the night.
With all the new dragonlore, spells, experimental research, and horns that they had uncovered and begun using, his family had bound themselves closer to their dragons and their bonds were stronger than they had ever been before. That had not just manifested in increased vitality and affinity for fire magic.
With a whispered command to Arrax, his dragon breathed out a plume of bright green flames the exact same shade as wildfire. Reaching deep into his bond with Arrax and calling upon all of his skills and focus in pyromancy, Aegor willed the flames to follow his will and manipulated them into a series of elaborate patterns in the sky as Arrax continued breathing more flames.
Manipulating dragonfire was normally impossible. Dragons were fire made flesh, usurping control of their flames shouldn't be even conceivable. Yet dragons were also uncontrollable by (normal) skinchangers or glass candles but commanded so easily by their bonded riders and the dragonlore they possessed. Exceptions existed, and this was one of them.
No pyromancer in the world could control the flames of any dragon unless he was also a dragonlord bonded to that dragon. In that case his natural affinity with that dragon could allow him, with sufficient talent and skill, to manipulate that sole dragon's flames and wield it as his own. It was part of how Valyrian steel was forged and dragonstone made. A careful and meticulous manipulation of dragonfire, blood, and various other ingredients, spells, and rituals that had made both materials uncommon even in Old Valyria.
It had never really seen usage in war though, and for good reason. It took all of Aegor's concentration and focus just doing what he did. Even as Arrax's rider, dragonfire was hard to work with and it would be impractical and dangerous to split your focus and try and do more than slight redirections in the heat of battle. Sometimes simple was better, especially in war.
Having finished his last exercise, Aegor turned Arrax back towards Summerhall, satisfied that he had completed all of his training for the day. The rest of his siblings and their parents were right behind him, having similarly finished for the day.
Rhaena was waiting for them when they returned to Summerhall, having recovered from her bedrest and still looking very much displeased to have been left out though a smile (rare from her these days) had broken out when his aunt Rhaenys informed her she had ordered the cooks to make her favorite dessert after dinner as a treat to make up for it.
The mood remained jubilant and high for all of them throughout dinner and desser. Lingering effects from the dragon horns perhaps or just a general content feeling at a productive and well spent day after a well spent year.
When their dessert bowls were taken away by the servants however, the mood began turning serious as their parents called them all to attention away from all the japes and smiles.
Aegor had a feeling he knew what was coming. They had had them for a year already, and that was a year longer than he had ever thought they would stay by their side like this. War called and Aegor for one could not begrudge his parents and aunt for wishing to resume their campaigns at long last, not when he desired to take his own vengeance once he was deemed old enough.
"For the past year, we have been blessed to have been able to spend all of this time with all of you, to get to know you all again and train with you, and help us all heal from what happened… but we could only justify it ultimately because the lost vault had been found and now that we have established a more than solid foundation of magical mastery that will keep us all safe, we cannot justify our delay to the war for much longer," their father said.
Aegor looked to his siblings, neutral expressions on all their faces. They understood, but it didn't mean they liked it.
"The time has come for us to put everything we have learned to use and eradicate the Faith Coalition once and for all. When that is over, it will be years of consolidation and stabilization once again, just as there was before we invaded the Vale. After that, we expect that most of you would be grown up enough to join us if you wish when we turn our attention to the North and finally put down Brandon Snow and his Wolf's Teeth," he continued and that idea brought thoughtful looks to all of his siblings' faces.
Some looked eager at the thought of revenge, others fearful of what could still go wrong, but all determined to see it happen.
"But for this war at least, all of you are still young and your mothers and I have no choice but to leave you all behind once again, and for that I am sorry. We will do our best to visit, to take breaks and communicate well with the candles. And we will make sure that the campaigns come to an end as soon as possible," their father finished.
"Will Aerion and Valaena be going back to the war as well?" Elaena asked curiously.
There was a brief silence at that as they all remembered the rather brutal lambasting their father had given Aerion and to a lesser extent Valaena over a year ago. No one said a word, and Aegor even noticed his sister Daena rather forcefully pushing her cup around as she worked out all of her nervous energy. He could see a wondering look on Valaena's face and a cautiously eager expression on Aerion's as they waited with bated breath for what their father would say next.
Their father seemed to hesitate before he nodded slowly. "If they want to… yes."
Aerion looked like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you, Father, for believing in us, and giving us a second chance."
Their father nodded. "Sometimes I regret being so harsh. You've done well Aerion, and you are older and I hope wiser now. And I think that we will certainly be able to prevent any repeat incidents of last time with the new arrangement."
"New arrangement?" Aerion asked, confused.
"Valaena comes with me," Aunt Rhaenys interjected. "You will accompany your father."
"We made a mistake last time sending the two of you off alone, inexperienced as you were. We won't be repeating that. This time you will accompany us, separately, and learn from us while we can watch you and keep you safe. Is that agreeable?" their father said, with a certain look in his eyes.
Though obviously disappointed that he and Valaena would be separated, Aerion nodded and the matter was settled. Valaena looked even more disappointed but was resigned to her fate it seemed.
Aegor spoke up then. "I assume that I will have the regency here in Summerhall then?"
When the twins had gone to the Vale, the rule of Summerhall had been given to his grand uncle Daemon as he had been quite young at the time, but now that he was already three and ten, the same age Aerion had been when the Vale was first invaded, Aegor anticipated being given the regency with all the powers Aerion had been invested with.
Instead of answering immediately however, his father shared a look with his mother before speaking. "I have not made this decision lightly, but after much conversation with your mother, we have decided that… since you are now the same age Aerion and Valaena had been in the Deluge of Blood and you have many grudges to settle, it would only be right to offer you the opportunity to accompany her on the campaign."
That surprised Aegor. "Really?"
"Yes. You're young true, but age is often just a number and squires your age are all over the battlefields these days anyway. You are already taller and stronger than Aerion and your injury has aged you beyond your years and given you a maturity and perspective fit for war. And I know you did not take our last separation well and… I suppose I wanted to try and make up for that," his mother said, confident as always until the last sentence made her hesitate ever so slightly.
For a moment Aegor thought of accepting. It felt perfect, he would have the chance to prove his mettle was equal to his elder siblings, to finally get a start on avenging his eye and all the other grievances that had been dealt to his family and unleash all the rage that was burning in his soul. He would be able to spend time with his mother, just the two of them on their campaign, learning from her example and rebuilding their relationship.
Then his eyes fell upon Rhaena and he knew he couldn't do it. He saw the terror in her eyes, the fear that they would be parted, the fear that he would be going far away from her and into a war she was too young by far to join. He thought of her overworking herself and pushing herself harder and harder into her studies in his absence until one day she pushed too hard and without him or their parents or the twins around, she'd just expire and never wake up.
No. There would be time for all of those other things later. What really mattered now was Rhaena. Staying by her side and making sure that she was looked after because with how relentlessly determined she was right now, she wasn't doing that herself.
When he finally rejected the offer and said he'd take up the regency of Summerhall instead, both of his parents quietly sighed in relief.
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Author's Note: First of all, I'm really so sorry that this chapter is SO late! I had serious writer's block for this chapter due to difficulties in planning and working in all the magic ideas so I really hope that you guys enjoyed all of them now that I was finally able to get all of them somewhat working I think!
If y'all need help understanding some of the magic concepts explored in this chapter, you can reread some of my other chapters like High Tide, Chapter 61 and even Divide and Conquer's own Chapter 14!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/37279669/chapters/140096293
https://archiveofourown.org/works/57784501/chapters/147071179
You can also check out these ideas/inspirations I had for blood magic and even the notes that I tried to make for the Valyrian Magic in D&C lol.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjSuVP-6K9k
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZMi2aq_TR8
https://powerlisting.fandom.com/wiki/Blood_Magic
https://docs.google.com/document/d/18vXXSZ1uvewT4ZheBiHI_t-fjX9Soe1F7gZeEdqs2MA/edit?tab=t.0
And for those of you who kept asking for 'dragon wargs' here you go! Kinda. Does it still count if the dragonlords captured skinchangers to experiment on them, found out how they tick, and then replicated and surpassed their abilities using their own blood magic, glass candles, dragonlore etc?
Let me know your thoughts, suggestions, and questions in the comments below or over on Discord! https://discord.com/invite/NSEwuzpcWm