Pre-Chapter A/N:Another chapter on time? Guess my lock-in is going pretty well. If you haven't already, I recommend turning on notifications for my stuff so you can see when new stuff drops right as it drops. Next five chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio.
When I finally returned to the barrack we slept in, I found that a divide had formed. Most of the sailors had moved their beds so they were on the other end of the room from mine. It should have been expected. I should not have cared. And yet, it stung. It stung even more since I hadn't managed to figure out a single thing about what might be going on.
The journals had information on magic and the glass candles but these were accounts to be read either by no one or by other experts in the field. There was little information about how to actually do any of it. Just data on what was possible. Even just knowing what could be done was more than I had before this but with the present scenario, I was impatient and searching for a lifeline.
If I was anyone other than a Great Lord, these men would have mutinied already, and could I even blame them? I went to my bed, saying little about the present scenario and laying down to sleep. Or at least I tried to. I'd spent much of the day tired but now I was in bed and my eyes refused to close. Even when I began to hear the snores of the sailors to the other end of the room, I got no closer to sleeping myself.
It was incidental at first, and then the longer I remained awake, the more I wanted to. There was a very real chance that the second I slept, I would turn into a murderous psychopath. If that was the case, then it was for the best if I remained awake.
No sooner had I had this thought than I realised I was being shook awake once more. This time, rather than limping, I jolted. When the fuck had I slept?
I looked up at Ben's worried eyes, and Vaemond's pursed lips and they told me what I needed to know. Someone else was dead. I shot to my feet, feeling for the dagger I wore at my waist and breathing a small sigh of relief when it was still there.
At least until I saw the bodies. Two slashes across the neck.
"I didn't do it," I denied before I was even asked. The sailors looked like I'd just told them the sun was green.
"I've had the dagger on me all night and it's squeaky clean," I said, pulling it from the sheathe and presenting the blade for observation. My eyes fell on it the same time as theirs did and I dropped the damn thing on the floor. It was red. Stained with blood.
"My Lord, you know I did not clean it when I returned it to your sheathe after we found it yester-morning," Ben said, rescuing the situation. Few of the sailors seemed to believe the excuse but at least they looked less likely to lynch me now. If barely.
"Something foul is happening here. The sooner we get done, the better," Vaemond said, ushering the men away.
They went off to start the day's work again and part of me feared that a lynching would come sooner rather than later. If they did think I was the one killing them then there was little chance they would remain calm for long. It was probably only Uncle's insistence and protection that kept them from acting out.
"I will try to keep them on task, but another death would take things to the boiling point," he said, giving me a significant look before leaving the room behind them. He thought I did it. He thought I was waking up and killing them in their sleep.
I turned to my bed and went to take a seat as Ben began wrapping up the bodies again. He worked silently and efficiently. That was one thing I appreciated about him. He knew when to leave me to my thoughts, and this was definitely one of those times. When he finally returned from getting rid of them, I had a plan. Not a good one, but it would let me figure out what was going on at least.
"Ser Ben?" I called.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Tonight, we find out what the hell is going on. Will you help me?" I asked.
"My sword is yours, my Lord. Always and forever," he said. I nodded. Good man.
We walked off to the office again and this time, I read with less desperation. I had reached the journal of the man who had held this place four generations before the last man. I read them in that order so I got the best possible picture of the most relevant bits of the Empire. This one was named Baelaerys Antaryon. He was from a vassal of one of the Great 40 just like House Velaryon had been to House Targaryen at one point in time.
His focus was magic. All the other Lord-Protectors I read about had been Dragonlords, but this man was not from a house powerful enough to get that privilege. But he was a Valyrian through and through and so knew more magic by the time he was a pre-teen than the rest of the world knew for the most of their lives. And thankfully, he also liked to talk about the things he did. He spoke about creating wards within the fortress to repair it from small bits of damage over time just like the one that was on the peninsula itself.
He spoke about the whole process in his journal and I smiled as I traced some of the sigils that he had drawn and prepared myself to try something similar once we returned to Bloodstone. Not having to maintain a castle was going to be a massive boon both in terms of gold savings and productivity. At least, it would have been until I got to the part where he spoke about carrying out the ritual itself.
"A threefold ritual is the most powerful ritual known to man. Something about the number three allows the magic to work much better than any others. Three sacrifices and one subject is the ideal framing for things of this sort. Three sacrifices to take advantage of the numerology there, and then adding the subject made the magic circuit an even one which allows for even better flow of the magic in the ritual…" I read while shaking my head.
Three human sacrifices? Of fucking course. Leave it to Valyrians to consider human lives as a worthwhile price to pay to never have to repair their castles again. I wondered with a shudder just how many lives it had taken to power a ritual of this same sort across the whole peninsula. I kept reading and after the ritual, he had another project to work on.
He wanted to make a better kind of glass candle. The glass candles that the Valyrians made had two purposes— communication and scrying. They could scry anywhere in the world as long as the one looking had the power to support the journey. Of course, it was somewhat common to power parts of the journey with a human sacrifice because why the fuck not. This man— Baelaerys— always had a rant or two about how this was the best thing to ever happen to him and that was simply because of the slaves. The Lord-Protector of the gates to Valyria had a regular allocation of slaves that he used to fuel his various magical exploits.
His latest goal— either figure out how to use the present glass candles to communicate with someone without a candle of their own— his present idea was to see if he could do it by planting dreams— or to figure out how to use the candle to scry into the past or the future— preferably the latter. But then if he could manage neither then he would simply have to build himself a candle that could handle his purposes.
His writing gave me a good idea for how to use the candle myself and that did bring a slight smile to my face. I wanted to try it now, but then there was a chance that whatever was wrong with me had come from lighting the candle the first time and nothing in his notes helped me to decide either way so it was for the best if I just waited for after tonight when I could figure out just what it was that was going on. The not knowing was the bit that hurt the most in truth. If I knew I was possessed, then I would figure some way to get it out. I had ideas there as well. Could whatever was within me handle Igneel's fire as well as I could? Something told me the answer to that was no. But then I needed to know before I decided to do something as drastic as cut this journey short.
It wasn't an urgent emergency. Whatever was wrong with me only mattered when I slept. If I stayed awake, then there would be nothing to worry about. When the sun finally set, I could hear the voices of the men as they returned to the fortress. I read under candlelight for a few more hours until I struggled to read the words. I led Ben to the room we chose and found my sailors already pretending to be asleep. I walked over to my bed at the far end.
"Stay up with me tonight, good Ser," I said.
"Yes, my Lord," he replied and I sat on the floor, back against my bed. He sat against his own bed, and I could see him if I turned my head to the side.
"What do you think about Valyria?" I asked, seeking to fill the silence when I tired of just looking out to the darkness.
"It is a beautiful place, my Lord. I can see why it was the greatest empire that ever stood in its time," he said. I nodded. I could see it as well. Such wealth, such power. The magic, the dragons, the power. It was everything here.
"It is indeed. Even now after the Doom, it remains intact. I wonder why that is the case when the tales say it was shattered to pieces," he said next.
"It was. The place repairs itself," I said. It was a question I had also wondered about, but reading about the self-repair ritual had given me the answer I needed. This place still existed because it repaired itself from the damage it had suffered with time. It was slow going, but it was clear that eventually, the Empire would return. Well, the bones of it at least.
"Truly the greatest empire in the world," Ben said with awe in his voice and I agreed.
"What do you think has been happening to the sailors? What keeps killing them?" I asked, trying to understand where Ben's mind was. He did not say it just in case someone was listening but this morning, Ben had lied for him. He had wiped the blade down when he had given it to him so that blood had been fresh.
"I have an idea but I must show you what has happened to the bodies so you can understand," he said.
"What? I thought you burned them," I said.
"They refused to burn, my Lord. I wanted to bring it up with you earlier but your mind has been occupied and I did not wish to add any additional worries to it," he said.
"Never do that again, Ben. You should have told me the second you noticed something amiss. Take me to them now," I said, pulling myself to my feet. I grabbed the blade I had claimed and followed him as he led me out of the room. The bodies refused to burn? That made no sense at all. But magic was a strange thing. I had thought the people were being killed by some sort of psychopath but what if there was a method to the madness? What if there was some sick purpose being prosecuted here?
Some ritual? If that was the case then it was better we put an end to it now. Rituals could do truly terrible things in the hands of a skilled practitioner.
Ben led me down, past a set of stairs that I had never noticed in all my time exploring the fortress. How had he found it? We went down until we came out to a chamber that lit itself as we entered. What the fuck? I thought as I looked within.
The chamber had four tablets. On three of the tablets laid a body and the fourth one— between them— was empty.
"What is this, Ben?" I asked, coming to a dead stop. Ben swung around and I didn't even manage to flinch as his gauntleted fist smashed into my head. I hit the ground and that was that.
— —
My return to consciousness was a quick one. One second there was darkness and nothing, and the next, I felt a bone-chilling cold spread all through my body. I was naked. Ordinarily that would have been the biggest cause of concern, but it was not even in the top ten.
I opened my eyes and was met with the view of the ceiling. Dragons were carved into it, dancing with each other, flying, laying still. So many different poses. The carvings bled into each other in some places, in a way that would ordinarily have just made things even more confusing but instead heightened the beauty of it.
"What have you done, Ben?" I asked, looking down at the ropes and shackles that bound me to the tablet. The fourth tablet had been meant for me then.
"You still have not managed to figure it out, Targaryen? Or should I call you Velaryon instead? To think that such a low house would manage to rise so high." His voice washed over me, but the words were not his.
"There was a curse on the skeleton. You possessed his body the second he destroyed it," I said, speaking the realisation I had already come to. He clapped slowly.
"Indeed. So you are less foolish than I feared," he said.
"So what is the plan now?" I asked, continuing to strain against the bindings that held me. There was no give at all. I just had to hope that I could get him to talk for long enough for me to figure out a way out of this.
"I killed three men and now they surround you in a ritual circle. I have painted sigils on your skin in their blood. What do you think the plan is?" He asked.
"A ritual of some sort," I said slowly.
"Indeed. A soul needs a body, does it not? And while this one is passable, it is far from perfect," he said.
"You want to take my body."
"Exactly. You would have been a great slave in my time. The things we would have done together," he said, reaching down and running his fingers down my face.
"Sadly that is not to be the case," he said, drawing it back.
"You shouldn't do this. My Uncle… he will kill you once he finds out. My sister, my mother, they're dragon riders. They will hunt you to the ends of the earth," I said.
"Is that so? What would I care for them? You see, this body has given me a large amount of information. Your Uncle barely tolerates you, and neither your mother nor sister know you came here. Any changes in personality can be explained away easily enough. Add to that that I will have your memories at my disposal and I think I really should do this, contrary to your pleas," he said, continuing his work of painting sigils unto the corpses.
"I'll find you another body. You don't really want mine," I said.
"No no, I know I want yours. Magical potential like yours was not common even in the days of the Empire's full strength. Like I said, you would have been a good slave. Your body will give me the tools I need to start anew," he said. And no matter what I said after that. What I offered— what I threatened, he kept going.
When he had drawn the last sigil, I felt my heart sink into my stomach like a lead ball in the ocean. Pulling on Igneel's strength didn't make a difference. The bindings held strong no matter how much I struggled against them. This was how I was going to die, I realised.
Everyone had been right. Everyone had been fucking right. Valyria was a terrible idea. I could have been asleep in my warm bed with Laena by my side. But no, I just had to come here and put everything and everyone at risk because I felt smarter than them and wanted to prove it. It was pride, and nothing else. Fucking pride.
Maybe I should pray? Pray to something. Ben's voice finished his singing and the bodies caught on fire. He walked forward, grabbing my head with his hand and staring into my eyes. The eyes are windows to the soul. I tried to close them only for something he did to hold them open.
He kept chanting while I felt a pressure begin to build within my mind. So focused he was on me that he never noticed it when the others entered the chamber. Neither did I, to be honest. Not until there was a crossbow bolt sticking out of the front of his head. His body fell forward, landing on mine and I breathed a sigh of relief until I realised he was still chanting somehow. The pressure behind my eyes built until I felt something snap.
A/N: And so we get the chapter done with. Anyone see that coming? Next five chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga) (same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.