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Prince Aelor Targaryen Legacy

It was difficult being the son of the most hated man in Westeros. Aelor Targaryen had seen his fair share of death. He'd watched the executions of the Houses Darklyn and Hollard after the Defiance, a fifteen year old squire to Ser Barristan Selmy who'd been forced to stay behind while his mentor scaled the wall of Duskendale and rescued Aelor's father. He'd killed his first man, some hulking brute who smelled like a pig sty and fought like a boar, two years later during the waning hours of the Kingswood Brotherhood, and sent seven more men to their graves before the conflict was finished, earning his knighthood. And he'd seen men burned alive by his father for years now, more men and more situations than Aelor wished to recall. His father's nickname of the Mad King was well earned. But the deaths of Rickard and Brandon Stark were… haunting. The smell of the Lord of the North's burning flesh still swirled in his nostrils, just as the sound of the man's son strangling himself as he tried to save his father still rang in his ears. Aelor was no stranger to nightmares, but he knew those deaths would haunt him until the day he died. If they ever find Rhaegar, I'll kill him myself. There are worse things in life than being labeled a kinslayer...... Thank you for reading! If you are enjoying the story, please consider supporting me on Patreon. Patrons get access to advance chapters and help make it possible for me to keep writing. You can find me at: patreon.com/ScarletQuillWrites
ScarletQuillWrites · 10.2k Views

Wolf's Promise

The rebellion was over, Robert was king, Rhaegar was dead, Aerys was dead, Princess Elia was dead, and her children were dead. So much bloodshed, and for what? Ned did not know, nor did he much care. All he knew was that Robert was not the same man that he had been, the crown and the war had changed him, had changed them all, but Robert most of all was changed. His friend, his brother was now a mere stranger, for Ned did not think, could not think that the man who had gone drinking with him in the Eyrie, would ever dare condone the murder of children. And yet that was what his friend had done, it saddened him truth be told, it angered him even further, his friend was gone, dead, as far as he could see, there was nothing he could do, nothing that could change that, and yet, and yet something seemed as though it needed to be done. He could not in good conscience allow his friend to slip into the throes of madness, into the crutch of depression not again, not this time. Ned had not fought through the seven hells to see his friend fall into depression, at least that was what he had told himself when he had set off from King's Landing, still angry with Robert, getting to Storm's End word had come from the capital, a slaughter had occurred of some of the Targaryen's extended family, those innocent of anything but being related to Aerys, Ned had been horrified, it did not sit well with him, it reeked of Tywin Lannister. He did not know what to make of it, and yet he would do his duty if asked, and yet Lyanna came first, she had always come first for Ned, and now here he was, where she was said to be, and his heart hammered. Word had come in the form of Ashara Dayne, his brother's former lover, as to where he could find his sister, hidden in some god's forsaken tower in Dorne, the audacity of Prince Rhaegar struck him then, the fact that the prince would even consider hiding Lyanna in the home of his wife, that was something that made Ned question whether the prince had truly been sane. He had placed the northern army under the command of Lord Jeor Mormont and instructed them to return north following the lifting of the siege of Storm's End, there was no time for them to come with him. Only six others had come with him, Ethan Glover who he had found in the black cells near death but determined to serve, Ser Mark Ryswell quiet but loyal, strong and tough, then there was Martyn Cassel old, loyal and firm, Theo Wull a giant even compared to the Greatjon, Lord Willam Dustin another one of Brandon's friends and someone Ned was not sure of and finally Howland Reed, who had confessed to him the nature of Lyanna's abduction. All had become friends to him during this war, and he would trust them with his life, and yet, he knew that what they were about to see within the tower or perhaps even witness would test their loyalty. Ned sighs, he knows that things are going to grow more and more uncertain as time goes by, but he does not know whether or not that is a good thing or a bad thing. He orders his men to a halt and dismounts. He sees three white knights standing before the tower, and he knows then that his suspicions are confirmed. You can support me at my Website or Patreon at patreon.com/PerseusBlackfyre and perseusblackfyre-shop.fourthwall.com respectively, where you can early access to chapters and some exclusive content.
Perseus_Blackfyre · 30.1k Views

I, Voldemort (Self-Insert)

I had a peculiar dream where I found myself in a room, dressed in a robe, holding a wooden stick and directing it towards a lifeless body. My entire body was itching, as if my skin was melting like wax. Internally, it felt like icebergs colliding with each other. The absurdity of the situation overwhelmed me, causing me to burst into laughter. However, the sound that escaped my mouth was so powerful that it almost caused me to faint; it was the kind of laugh any supervillain would trade their soul for. Suddenly, I realized that the voice I heard was not my own, which prompted me to rush to the mirror. To my surprise, the reflection staring back at me did not resemble myself either. Gradually, my body began to transform, becoming less human-like and more unrecognizable. It felt like various pieces were merging together within me. Then, the pain struck. I collapsed to my knees, screaming in agony. But abruptly, the pain vanished after a short while, leaving only a lingering headache. It was in that moment that I understood this was not merely a dream... I am Lord Voldemort! Well, not exactly. My mind was flooded with foreign memories of Tom Riddle, also known as Voldemort, who attempted various methods to achieve immortality and alter his body. Some of these methods did not work well together, such as creating horcruxes and implanting fragments of the Veil of Death into the body. It's possible that a sliver of his soul was ejected and replaced with a random soul, or that my soul merged with the remaining fragment in this body. The outcome was clear: his memories, reflexes, and abilities, combined with my consciousness. This proved to be advantageous as I had full control over the body. You can support me and read advance chapters on my Patreon. Join me at patreon.com/MythosMixer for exclusive content and updates!
MythosMixer · 17.4k Views