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Chapter Text

It was strange how my entire world suddenly tilted. Up became down, and down became up. And the screams- so many screams, one of them I faintly recognized as mine. The earth rumbled and there was shrill rending sound and a horrible snap.

A shudder, a twitch and a gasp.

I awoke to darkness and- were those car alarms in the distance? Yes. Muted but those were certainly car alarms. Now, where was I? Why was it so dark and-

Pain. Pain! PAIN! My legs! My back! I tried to scream, but a painful cough wrenched it's way out of my parched throat. I tried to swallow but my throat felt like sandpaper. Tears stung my eyes, the sharp pain was unlike any I had ever felt.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God, it hurts so much! What happened to my legs?!

After what could've been an hour, the pain had subsided to a dull throb and a 'sizzle'. My mind had finally turned to thoughts other than the pain and the panic. What was happening? Where was I? Why was it so dark?

My phone's flashlight! I can use that! I found that I could move my aching arms, but it was a struggle. They shook and trembled something fierce. What was wrong with me? I steeled myself and persisted. I patted my jean pockets and aha! There it was!

I tapped the screen and the dull light of the lockscreen blinded me. Hm. Flashlight, flashlight. There we go-

Oh.

The white light illuminated the large shattered concrete piece two feet above me. Occasionally streams of dust cascaded down from between the cracked seams.

Oh no. I moved my trembling sweaty hand around and found nothing but rubble to my right, that and shattered pieces of wood and marble. That way seemed closed off.

I turned my torch towards my legs- they were crushed. Oh God. They were stuck beneath rock and rebar and whatever else was on top of it.

Oh fuck, oh fuck. I began to hyperventilate. I was trapped and my legs were stuck. Oh fuck, I could feel shards of my bones wetly scratching against my flesh.

There was no use. Pulling them out would only hurt more. I don't think my mind could survive another major flash of pain. It might even knock me out. I couldn't have that. Too dangerous to be unconcious in such a situation.

My dread was kept under a tight leash- one I held onto just barely. I forced my mind away from the pain and turned my phone to look around.

Nothing but rubble. Blocked on all sides.

I looked up at the ceiling and shuddered. My reality had been upturned in but a moment. What could've done this?

A bomb? An earthquake?

Well, fuck. Knowing what it was, couldn't exactly help me now.

Alright, escape first. Death comes to all, but I wasn't willing to give up and wait around for it.

'But where would you go, even if you could?' A part of me sneered at my foolish thoughts. 'You're trapped here. Someone might come, but what if they're too late? You're bleeding. You're a dead m-'

I shook my head. No! I couldn't give into despair.

I tapped the phone and squinted at the top right corner. The signal bars had a tiny red cross over them. No signal.

Huffing in frustration, I swiped the screen and selected the 'Emergency' option.

'911' showed up in the bar. I called.

The call dropped.

So I called again. Another unsuccessful attempt.

Desperate, I was about to call again when I felt the earth rumble.

It started with a few shakes that made the large collapsed concrete above me groan.

No please. No. Not like this!

Then the earth shook violently. I felt whatever was beneath me crack. My body lurched on reflex and pain as it lost any support from the surface it was lying on. I fell and the concrete rubble above me finally gave in to gravity.

Terror and panic seized me in a tighter grip than it had ever had in my entire life.

It was so strange, a part of me thought, as I saw the concrete slab crack apart and fall down in slow motion. The earth opened up wide, and I fell into its dark depths. There was a loud, maddening, grating sound. For a moment I saw the jagged edges of the crack I had fallen through grow apart and wobble back and forth as if they were a ship in a storm.

'This would be my tomb', I thought to myself. 'I would be buried into the earth with no escape. I would die here in the darkness.'

As my life flashed before my eyes and the world swallowed me, a mad part of me raged. It raged against the encroaching hands of death and defeat. It wanted to live.

I wanted to live!

In that moment, between clarity, desperation, fear and rage- I felt a pleasant, calming warmth whose source I could not pinpoint to any specific part of my body.

This warmth spread through my body, and I felt it infuse every cell and every atom of my being with- something. There was a sudden flash of strange indescribable colours over my vision and then darkness.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

I woke up to the face of the girl I had rescued looking down at me with consternation, her straight blonde hair like a golden curtain shading me from the sun above. My head was in her lap, my shirt was unbuttoned and her hand was on my bare chest, specifically near my heart.

This was incredibly awkward. The girl thought so too, she quickly withdrew her hand, her cheeks tinged pink.

I had felt the girl's mortification- how, I did not know. I smiled up at her, hoping that she would stop panicking inside her mind.

Her thigh muscles lost much of their tension and she smiled back shyly, though her eyes still refused to meet mine.

Wait. Didn't this girl have arrows sticking out of her? In my worry, I stood up far too quickly- that was a mistake. My world spun something fierce. Thankfully, I didn't embarrass myself by collapsing.

"The arrows." I pointed to her back, where there was a distinct lack of arrows. "You were hurt. What happened?" I wanted to know how the girl had lived while having holes in her back.

She shrugged and shook her head to what I assumed meant that she didn't know.

I stood up and walked behind her, her eyes surreptitiously following me from beneath her locks. Her gown had splotches of dried blood in places the arrows had hit, but aside from some torn cloth there were no entry wounds. Curious. I'm willing to bet that the glowing worm had something to do with it. Extremely likely, even.

I sighed. For now, all I could do was go with the flow and figure out where the fuck we were and then get to a shelter or the nearest civilization.

We were in a field of grass- tall grass, short grass, and some yellow grass here and there, a few bushes and rocks too. Steppes? Was that what this form of biome was called? Yes. Steppes, I think.

Far and wide, did this wild land spread out. No sign of water, human civilization or civilization of any kind, could be glimpsed. The sun was hot and my pants were crawling with ants, which I took off and dusted while my companion looked away.

All in all, I was not a happy man- not at all. The only bright side was that we were alive.

"So." I looked down at the girl. "Do you know where we are?"

The girl shook her head and looked down at the ground.

Okay. "Don't worry, we'll find our way, somehow." She looked up at me and nodded.

"My name's Damian, by the way. What's yours?" She twisted her fingers and shifted from one foot to the other. After a few awkward moments of opening and closing her mouth, she spoke, "Y- Ym- Ymir."

Either the girl was unused to speaking or had some form of speech impediment, because her voice cracked horribly.

I placed a reassuring hand on her bony shoulder. "That's a very nice name, Ymir."

A shiver ran through Ymir's body, and try as she might, she could not help but smile at her saviour. His hands were warm and safe. He was handsome too, more than some men she had seen in her homeland, and well endowed, from what little she had peeked. Heat crept into her belly.

Caring, patient, and safe. A part of her wished he never took that hand away-

She shook herself of those desires. No. A slave like her should never have wishes of her own, it always ends badly. Damian- and what a unique name that was- could touch her as he wished. She was his after all, wasn't she? He had saved her from that nightmare. Brought her with him. Took her away from her cruel tormentors. Yes. She was his.

Her name being spoken by her new master, brought her out of her daydreams.

"Ymir?" She blinked and cocked her head. I sighed internally and repeated my inquiry. "I wanted to know why those men wished to kill you and who they were, for that matter."

"El- Eldians. Y-Ymir slave. Dis- disobey. R- run a- away." My eyes hardened. A slave. They were her masters. She ran away and they hunted her down, made a sport out of it. Bloody mongrels!

"It's okay, you're with me now. I won't let them take you," I reached out to wipe her tears away.

The moment I touched her cheek, I was assaulted by visions and images. Thoughts and feelings. Memories upon memories. I saw Ymir. I saw her earliest memories, her life as it was before the Eldian tribe came to enslave her and her village. I felt her fear, despair and her pain. I felt the bloody blade that took her tongue.

At the end of it all, I was left reeling from the impromptu acid trip.

What the fuck? I slowly withdrew my hand, closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

What the fuck did I just see? More than that, I wondered how? It was fantastical, but no less unnerving. How was it possible to see someone's life pass by and sense their emotions and thoughts?

I did not know how to even begin processing this magic, psychic bullshit, so I decided to shelf it for the time being.

My phone was no longer in my possession and without any signs or stars to guide, I chose a random direction and began walking. "This way, Ymir." Ymir followed.

It was an uneventful trek, really. Grass plains, shrubs, and rocks as far as the eye could see. Some rocks I stored in my pockets to use as a last resort in case it all went tits up.

For what could've been an hour, we walked east. Not a single stream or lake to be seen, not many animals either- bugs did not count.

I was not one for dropping down to my knees and wailing in despair, but even I had my limits. I didn't know how far we could push ourselves without water and food, I imagine not more than a few days at most.

Exhaustion was beginning to set in when we came across a two metre wide dirt trail.

A road! A primitive one, but a road regardless. That meant civilization was close by. I sighed in relief. All we needed to do was follow the trail.

For obvious reasons, I was cautious enough not to risk both of us being seen by whoever frequented this path. I told Ymir to hide in the waves of tall grass if someone passed through. At least one of us could run or stay hidden until the coast was clear and the danger had passed. It would suck if the people were assholes and both of us were captured... or worse.

Ymir squeezed my forearm, her tense expression conveyed her reluctance. The blonde strongly disagreed with me being the bait. In fact, she was downright terrified of losing me, the magical link between us shuddered in tandem with her emotions.

Her hair whipped as she shook her head when I tried to make her listen to reason. Ymir was adamant and dead set on staying by my side.

"Together," she said, looking fiercely into my eyes.

"Together," I forced myself to nod.

I walked ahead, and she trailed close behind. The dirt path winded and twisted and then went up a gentle slope only to level out once more.

It was after half an hour of walking, that we saw a cloud of dust rising ahead and heard the sound of multiple hoofbeats coming our way.

I cursed under my breath. Fuck. Just what we needed. A horde of riders. We did not have to wait long for the party to arrive, I could only hope that these people weren't as terrible as the last.

I was wrong, of course, on both counts. It wasn't a horde of riders but a scouting party of leather-vested, nasty looking men with long, thin moustaches and tinkling bells in their braids.

They had seen us and now I dearly wished they hadn't. The flash of the wicked, curved scimitars on their hips and the quiver on their horses' flanks made it clear who they were.

Plain grasslands, brown-skinned, nomadic-looking horse riders wielding curved scimitars, and long braids with bells in them? A pit of dread opened up in my stomach.

We had landed ourselves in the festering, mold-encrusted shithole of A Song of Ice and Fire. And not only that! No sir! We arrived in the Dothraki Sea of all places! Home to the bad parody of the Mongols- the Dothraki. Rapists, murderers that killed each other at the drop of a hat, and bona-fide slave suppliers.

Was it rotten luck? Fuck if I knew.

Ymir whimpered and clenched the back of my shirt. If the situation wasn't as dire, I'd turn around and give this foolish girl a big, fat, scathing glare. This was exactly what I had feared, come to life in the worst of ways!

The riders tugged their reigns and stopped for a while, assessing us both. There were twelve of them, which to me felt like a high number for a scouting party and too low for a proper raiding party or a khalasar. Some of them were just kids, barely twelve with boyish faces.

I palmed the sharp rock that I had discreetly taken out of my pocket. One of the kids suddenly moved and my danger sense spiked red. I twisted my neck away to the left, the very next moment came the unmistakable whoosh of an arrow.

Did that kid just try to fucking kill me?! That little piece of shit! The adrenaline that was coursing through my veins now fueled my rage instead of anxiety.

The boy, shocked by my evasion, scowled and took out another arrow, aiming once more. This only fanned the flames of my fury.

Darker Red gathered at the edge of my vision, the air crackled and popped. The rock in my palm grew warmer and I felt an obscene strength enter my throwing arm. I could nearly feel the pores of the rock close as its surface heated up to bright, nearly molten red. I did not feel its burn.

Pushing Ymir slightly to the side, I pivoted to the right, one foot ahead, the other planted behind, my right arm spun and the rock flew. The sound barrier cracked for a moment and the horses neighed in terror.

The rock flew true and utterly pulped the boy's head. His hanging jaw was all that was left, his blood steamed and boiled for a few horrid moments, his bow clattered to the ground and his body soon followed.

In an interesting turn of events, the boy's horse had panicked and bucked when it felt the molten, leftover fragments of the rock splatter onto its neck. The unfortunate rider by the boy's side, who was only now coming to his senses, had his legs shattered by the kick- he screamed. His horse felt the sudden kick in its gut and bucked him off, the Dothraki fell head first, his neck twisted at a strange angle. The two horses galloped off in the same direction they came from- the camp most likely.

By now the rest of the party was finally coming to their senses, their shock turned into horror and their horror turned into anger. All of it directed at me, the cool Blue whispered.

I could feel Ymir's shock at the sudden deaths through the psychic bond, but where I would've expected reproach or fear, I felt nothing but relief, understanding and casual acceptance.

The barbarians took out their arakhs and screamed out in their foul, coarse tongue, nothing nice I knew. I did not know what they were saying and had no desire to, yet I did catch a few words, "Khalakka" being one of them.

Oh. Did I just kill the Khal's son or at least one of them?

Wonderful.

One of the horse riders turned his horse around and galloped back to the camp, no doubt to inform the Khal and the rest of the khalasar about the "maegi" that blew his son's head off.

If the nine other assholes weren't riding straight at me, I would've thrown the next rock at the messenger. As it was, I had no choice but to kill at least one of the nine before they were upon us.

A rock once more flew and an older Dothraki had a baseball-sized, boiling hole in his chest. Now their fear and doubt was clear as day, but these men were not one to give up. I could either throw another, which might not have the same impact as they were ten seconds away from swinging at me, or I could do something drastic and crazy.

I will not die easily.

I pulled on the Red magic of Fire, Chaos and Power. The threads of magic, sluggish as they were in this land, responded to my rage. Not enough to throw a large fireball, but certainly enough to spark a wild flame.

Burn.

I directed the threads to the tall grass on either side of the road. There was dull flash of red and the grass caught fire. The flame was relentless and spread quickly, plenty of dry grass to feed on.

Smoke aplenty took to the air, it would not affect the attackers immediately, it was a slow poison, I needed to hold on and avoid getting killed until the place was choked with smoke. The smoke would affect us too, so we had to hurry.

I looked Ymir in the eye and she nodded. She understood.

The first Dothraki swung in a wide arc, hoping to behead me, we ducked to the ground as one, scooping up the dirt as we crouched and then threw it up into the eyes of the closest raiders. The two men cursed in rage as their eyes watered and squeezed shut. They erratically swung their blades, nearly slashing open each other's throats.

We kept moving, backs against each other. Out of six, three dismounted and came at us with daggers in one hand and arakhs in the other, while the others trotted around us in tight circles like hyenas.

The first savage slashed at me, while the other tried his best to pierce my abdomen. Naturally, I did what I always had- dodge and retreat, only now it wasn't as easy or simple- one of the three on the horse was shooting arrows. One of those might've hit Ymir if it wasn't for the psychic bond that allowed her to synergize her instincts with mine.

The smoke was thick and black now, and it became harder to breath without coughing my lungs out. At least we weren't the only ones suffering. All of them had tears in their eyes and were coughing violently. Yes, suffer motherfuckers. Served you cunts right.

I dodged another strike and flicked a small rock through my opponent's eye straight into his brain, then deftly picked up the dead man's arakh. The Dothraki were incredibly pissed off by now and were coming at us from all sides, there was not much space left to run or dodge. Ymir was tiring faster than I was, her body unused to inhumanely vigorous movement.

I pushed my arm further, not caring if my muscles tore and hurled a rock at a Dothraki's head, while cutting another's throat wide open with the blade. Warm blood spilled onto my forearm, the boy wheezed and choked on his own blood.

Three down, six more to g-

The warning came, but I was in a tighter spot now- pain bloomed on my left bicep.

For a moment, I looked down at the arm in question, and scowled. Fuck, a deep slash, there was an alarming amount of blood.

The Dothraki smirked and tried to swing at me again, I glared at him and his hair caught fire. Scalp immolation- terrible way to go. The man screamed and screeched falling down to the floor and writhing like a worm.

I smelt barbecue.

The Dothraki were horrified and the acrid smell of ammonia and faeces hovered in the air- the dead man, most likely. Perhaps even the living.

Unfortunately, they only grew more desperate and their strikes became more erratic and wild. A primal fear ruled them now. They boxed us in from all sides, unwilling to give us- demons in their eyes- a moment of reprieve.

Thus, it was no surprise when Ymir took a nasty slash to the jaw, while I took a sword to the lung.

Sweet blood pooled into my mouth and it became extremely painful to breathe. There was a lot of pain. My pain bled into Ymir and her pain bled into mine.

I decided then that I hated being impaled. It fucking sucked and hurt like hell.

Was I going to die here?

No.

The Spark of Magic within me burned with a blinding light.

I refused to die!

My wounds steamed, as did Ymir's.

I saw it then, for a moment- two lifeforms of blue light attached to our spines, not physically, but somewhere beyond the realm of reality, superimposed over it, perhaps. They were two halves of one worm.

The worm offered the power to live, survive, and thrive. I- We- accepted.

Two thick beams of blue light fell from the heavens and the world shook and burned. Massive clouds of white hot steam rose into the sky.

The five Dothraki turned to ash on the spot and the earth turned to glass, only to instantly shatter under the humongous feet of two titanic beings. The fires that were burning, now spread faster, the air sizzled and wobbled under the onslaught of extreme heat.

For several miles, the land trembled as if a terrible earthquake had come. Some Dothraki warriors that were riding to avenge their Khal's son, were thrown off their steeds, crushed under the hooves of those that still rode. It was a testament to the horselords' skill and command over their steeds, that they calmed them down and halted their charge- all 150 of them.

The steam cloud parted and the monsters within made their presence known.

Khal Jhogo looked up and felt a primal terror upon witnessing the appearance of the looming giants. His Ko and the rest of his men were in a similar state of mind-numbing horror and crippling despair. The wave of hot air that reached them did not help matters.

Bathed in hot steam, stood two giants, one muscular and male and the other faintly resembling a hunched female. The titans were taller than any being they had ever seen, taller than the walls of Sarnath. Blue and sharp yellow lightning crackled, highlighting their unholy, demonic forms, for what else could they be except demons come from beyond the Bones?

The male titan's body was a grey so dark it looked black, and it wore no garment or armour to cover its nakedness, though Jhogo did not see any manhood hanging between its legs. The sun shone and glinted off its skin as if it was steel, and Jhogo wondered if the skin was its armour. Upon its dark head grew jagged thorns like a crown and strange demonic blue fires blazed where its eyes should've been.

"Demon King," whispered one of his Ko. Jhogo said nothing, for he too was trapped in a maddening cycle of awe and fear.

Their fears were further amplified by the appearance of the female titan. Emaciated and thin, compared to the male, but no less terrifying. Her muscles were exposed and the ribcage... was wide and jutting out wrongly. The Dothraki shuddered collectively as they looked upon the skeletal face with an abyss for eyes.

Khal Jhogo sucked in a deep breath as the Demon King moved.

Chapter Text

Eyes, some human, others not so much, turned to the Great Grass Sea. I could sense their grasping magical gaze reach out from every corner of the globe. The world had changed, the Song of Ice and Fire was no longer the same. Naturally, every metaphysical player of note wished to know who or what was responsible.

I was not having that. I was done being fucked with. These nosey fucks could all take a rusty, spiked mace up their collective bumholes.

The power of magic shone brighter within me now that I was piloting a 270 m tall, muscular, meat-mecha with skin harder than diamonds. As a human, I struggled to grasp certain metaphysical concepts and higher dimensional physics, but with the worm providing mental acceleration and boosting my abilities, countering scrying attempts became easier.

With the worm providing the necessary 'fuel', the trap took me only a few seconds to weave. Esoteric magic and the worm's weird time manipulation (I tried not to think too much about how bullshit that was) were structured into a multi-layered spell scheme.

The first layer would create an unseen and subtle, spherical, space-time warp boundary, welcoming the probe into its area of influence. The layer behind it would act on the probe itself, creating the illusion that something with promising magical power was right ahead. The next layer of the spell worked in two steps, the first would mimic the energy signature of the probe and latch onto it feeding on its caster's magical power without the caster realising it, refining it and then sending it my way. While the second part would synergise with the first and wipe any information and memory gained by the caster after it had passed the boundary. The boundary would loop the probe back to the start.

I watched on with diabolical glee as cruel warlocks, twisted witches, and eldritch parasites alike kept throwing their probes into the sphere, chasing an illusion that could never be grasped. Not realising that they were being sucked dry, and by the time they realised something was horribly wrong- if they even did- it would be too late to turn back.

With a time warping phenomenon in effect within the boundary, these nasty voyeurs would not notice that the world outside had moved on.

Once every voyeur was caught in the trap, Ymir and I moved out of the 50 m spell radius, our attention now drawn to the band of comically tiny men on horses. It was, truthfully speaking, quite strange seeing what would've been a group of scary killers looking so… insignificant and pathetic.

With every step we took, the earth shook and the sea of grass burst into flame, blowing streaks of grey smoke into the clear morning sky, darkening the land behind us just as we had done with our long shadows ahead. Some men lost their will and stared unblinking at their approaching doom, others turned their horses around and fled wildly. Some like Khal Jhogo laughed as if he had just heard the funniest joke of his life, tears freely flowing from his eyes. A weird reaction but who could blame him?

In those drawn out moments, I calmly observed the camp 200 m behind the band, my eyesight now able to see much further than I even knew was possible. The colours were bright and I didn't think it was possible to see some of the colours I was seeing. My ears picked up screams of terror and the thumping hearts of thousands. Unfortunately, my olfactory senses had received a similar amplification so I also smelt the free running piss and shit of thousands.

The Dothraki in the camp were panicking and scurrying about like aimless ants, some women were wailing and ripping their hair out, while their children wept clutching the legs of their mothers. Some savages were kneeling praying to their false gods who would not come. But it was not these people I cared about, but the slaves they kept in cages and the bed slaves who had found their chance to stab their masters in the back. Some died but most succeeded in the stampede, good for them.

I mentally nudged Ymir, reminding her of the Dothraki fleeing the camp. Her titan stilled before nodding and raising her bone-clawed hands and jerking them upwards. A long, stark white wall made of a hard, stone-like substance suddenly sprung up from the earth, sealing off a stretch of the eastern path. Another twist of her wrist had two more walls join it in the north and south-east, fully herding in the 'cattle'. Those that were unfortunate enough to reach the wall, got impaled by horizontal spikes that grew out of the wall.

I may not fully understand these newfound abilities of mine but I did know that these powers- especially the one that allowed us to become titans- were working off of our desires. Want and will were the key to accomplishing feats that straight up defied reason and common sense.

So I willed.

Deep inside my titan's nape, I shivered, feeling the energy gallop its way along paths that did not exist in realspace. Space and the molecular world bent over backwards to accommodate my wishes. Needle thin bone spikes rose and precisely impaled any and every Dothraki adult in the camp, regardless of their gender. Only pregnant women, children, animals, and slaves were spared.

Ymir raised a wall around the camp itself- it would suck if the people inside got trampled trying to run away, this should stop them. Then I saw some of them turn their fear into aggression against each other and I knew this wasn't at all a viable plan. I needed to keep everyone calm or else they'd all end up at each other's throats. The moment the thought occurred, a hundred different crowd control methods crossed my mind. Some were not quite what I needed, being too mind-rapey for my tastes. I settled on knocking them out for 10 minutes, that should be enough time for us to deal with the Khal's small army.

My right fist unclenched and I pulled my hand back, blue lightning crackling and charging the air around it. I shaped every detail of the weapon as it formed out of thin air- a long, metallic grey pole at the end of which sat a monstrous spiked hammer, more akin to a meat tenderizer. I took a few steps back and twisted my torso, the pole bent a little as I pulled it all the way back, keeping it balanced with both hands. Even if the Dothraki had seen what I was about to do, I doubt they could've done anything about it.

With a whoosh that blew patches of earth and grass into the air, I brought the war hammer down on the wretched barbarians. There was a thud and a wet squelch when fifty of them got pulped in the first sideways sweep. If there had been any less than that, I don't think I'd have felt any impact at all.

I shifted my grip, and spun the shaft in my palm, blood and guts were thrown up into the air like water off a wet dog. Another passover and sixty more Dothraki perished. Those whose had avoided being turned into paste, were thrown far away like ragdolls, breaking into bright red "candy" upon impact. A part of me was horrified with the casual ease I had murdered people in the triple digits. The other more vicious part of me wanted these rapists and slavers wiped off the face of the earth. After all that I had been through these past few hours, could you really blame me if I listened to the latter?

I turned my attention to the remaining Dothraki trying to bypass Ymir's outer wall. With a final strike of my hammer on the earth, bone spikes turned every fleeing Dothraki into a pincushion. They gurgled and twitched, then stilled.

Chapter Text

Seeing and sensing no further threats to our lives, I let the hammer dissipate and began walking up to the wall, making sure to avoid the occasional puddles of blood and offal. It was time to talk to the slaves and those I had spared.

Before reaching my destination, it occurred to me that conversing with people from within a towering titan that had just butchered an army and skewered others, might not have the effect that I desired. Oh sure, the medieval, nomadic people who had never seen a monstrosity like this in their entire lives, would keel over and do whatever I asked of them. Overwhelming fear was a potent thing after all. On the other hand, I would only further reinforce their trauma for no other reason than to (literally) look down on them.

There was also something to be said about ground realities, and the reality was that I had killed a majority of the able men of this khalasar. The women and children were now without their protectors and providers, and the slaves were smack dab in the middle of Essos with nothing but the threadbare clothes on their backs. I was not a monster, so leaving them to their fate was out of the question. I was not a coward either, it was time to own up to what I had done and take control of the situation.

Now, how do I get out of this- oh. That's how. The titan flesh around my body moved, pushing me further out. I resurfaced in a burst of steam- torso first, legs still inside- the diamond-like substance strangely showing no resistance and parting like soft butter. Huh. I guess the flesh doesn't resist its master.

With one hand, I tugged myself free of the thin strands of pink flesh attached to the orbital region below my eyes and the one on my neck. My perspective shifted and the sudden loss of titan vision and senses caused me to sway, and I lurched forward, frantically trying to grab onto something so I didn't slip out and fall to my death. Responding to my will, the massive nape formed two solid handles for me to hold on to. So this… superpower… worked from outside the titan too. Interesting. God knows I wanted to dive into what this crazy superpower could do, but there was a time for tests and experiments and this wasn't it.

I looked down over my shoulder and closed my eyes tightly. Oh my God, that was a long drop! Shit! How did I manage to pilot a titan almost the size of the Eiffel Tower again? Oh right, I was it. Now I was back to being human. Ok. Stop panicking, Damian. Take a deep breath and grow back those balls. Yes, the same balls you used to fight off nearly a dozen men and kill them and then did all that crazy stuff afterwards. Just calm down, and imagine a way to get down safely.

I communicated my intent to Ymir, who agreed. I reached out for the power to control the titan and laughed like a loon when I felt its arms and legs move. Why was I so happy about this? Because my nerves weren't even connected to my titan through those strands. This meant that the titan body could obey my commands through psychic channels alone. The image of an RC car and its controller came to mind and I chuckled. This was such bullshit. Bullshit that had so many possible uses, and I just knew I was just barely scratching the surface.

My titan got down on one knee and its right shoulder molded itself into solid stairs that led all the way down the length of the arm. I walked down the stairs, Ymir replicating my movements and doing the same. Standing on the palms of our titans, we looked over the walls and saw that a majority of the people inside were now conscious, awake and staring up in horror. I felt for them. It must be terrifying to see something so otherworldly and overwhelming, even if it was kneeling.

I tensed my legs and commanded the giant hand to lower down until it was only ten feet above the ground. They all gasped and backed away in fear and I wrinkled my nose and almost gagged at the disgusting stench of ammonia and fecal matter. If my aim was to appear less scary, I had successfully failed to achieve it. I sighed internally. Y'know what? Fuck it. I did what I could do to appear less aloof and talk to them face to face. I was not their mother or their psychiatrist.

I did not speak their tongue so I tried channeling the same magical energy that I had felt before into my tongue. The threads of Blue wove themselves into a passable auditory illusion. An Essosi slave who understood low Valyrian would hear it, while a Dothraki listening would hear their mother tongue being spoken with perfect clarity. Even things that had no word for it would enter their minds, though they would forget what it was.

"You wonder who we are," I began, my voice louder than it should've been, "you wonder what we are. The answers to those questions are quite simple." I prepared myself for a bit of self-aggrandisement. It was highly necessary in a land as obsessed with titles and grand tales such as this.

"As far as you lot are concerned, I am the Titan King and she is-" I mentally cringed at what I was about to say, but I had confirmed it with Ymir beforehand and she was fine with it (she was strangely excited about it though), so I plowed through, "-my Queen." She might as well be. We were linked through this power, and we certainly weren't siblings so that was what we went with. It still felt kinda weird calling a thirteen year old girl my queen.

I could see the look of acceptance, awe and respect amongst the slaves. Even the Dothraki women and children bowed their heads, despite the fact that I had killed their sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers.

I continued, "The practice of slavery is abominable in our eyes. You are all free, henceforth. Any here who wishes to defy our will?" I let the foreboding question linger in the air. None raised their head in defiance.

Then a voice came. "What shall become of us, oh Great Titan King?" A bold man asked. He was balding in certain places and his beard was beginning to show flecks of grey. Once perhaps a healthy man, he was now weak in body. His eyes were a pale blue, and he had dark circles under them, a sign of how little he had slept since he had been captured. He gulped and stammered a little when he saw that he had my attention. "W- we have no nowhere else to go, Your Excellency. The- the horselords-" He spat on the ground. "-took what we had and even if some of it were to be returned to us, we have no supplies to return to our lands. Some of us," he grit his teeth, "have no land to return to." There were murmurs of agreement.

I nodded. "And if I am to guess, you count amongst the latter?"

He bowed low. "Your Excellency is wise. Six moons ago, I was a cheese merchant in Pentos. I was doing well, until I lost much of my merchandise in a- fire." Ah, a malicious competitor by how angry the man sounded. "I lost my home, my wife was sold to a Lyseni slaver, and so were my children. I was given away to the Khal as an offering by the city council- a punishment for my unpaid debts."

"Your name?"

"Marius Legario, Your Excellency." He replied.

"I have heard your plea and sympathise with your plight." Dear Lord, how did politicians manage to speak like this with any kind of consistency? "I shall return whatever is left of your property to you, and do whatever is in my power to help any who wish to return to their lands. If you do not wish to leave, you may serve me of your own free will. I will provide food and accommodations for you for a mon- moon, after that you must pull your own weight."

They all seemed quite shocked with that declaration and many looked at me with an emotion that made me distinctly uncomfortable.

"Remember," I added. "Should you choose to serve me- any lies, betrayal or treason will be severely punished. You have seen what we can do to those who defy us." I raised my left fist and clenched it, my titan's left hand mirrored the gesture. The point was made and it sunk in quite well from what the Blue whispered. Good.

"I wish to serve you, Great Titan King! Where you go, I go!" A bushy bearded fellow shouted, his eyes wild with fanaticism. Bit concerning, that one.

"Good riddance to the horsefuckers! They killed my man and left him to rot, then took me against my will. You have my loyalty, Titan King," declared a woman with torn clothes that barely hid anything.

My eyebrows kept climbing higher and higher as a majority of the men, women, and even children rose up and declared their allegiance. The Dothraki grit their teeth but said nothing.

"And you," I addressed the Dothraki prisoners of war, "Where would you go, should you be set free?" I silenced the few protests by raising my hand. The Dothraki people looked at each other, confused by the possibility of mercy.

One heavily pregnant woman amongst them spoke. "We would return to Vaes Dothrak. That is where widows and unclaimed women go."

"And where is this… Vaes Dothrak?" I questioned her. It was here that she hesitated and trembled. She blinked her eyes and answered.

"I do not recall, Giant King. I am with child and he has sapped much of my strength." She put a hand to her forehead and swayed in place.

I scoffed. Yeah right, bitch. "Is that so?" I looked at the rest of the wheat-skinned women and children, they fidgeted in place, unwilling to open their mouths. I smiled, "No matter. My loyal servants," they stood at attention, "Who amongst you is knowledgeable about the location of Vaes Dothrak?"

Marius and the wild-eyed man smirked. Almost everyone was, even those who were not previously knowledgeable about where certain cities lay. They all learned a thing or two from their captors, some even knew the basics of Dothraki by now. It was a long journey.

They pointed in one direction. North-east. The Dothraki paled and some even began sobbing.

"Their city is near, Your Excellency," Marius was grinning now, his teeth yellow from being unwashed for moons. "Only a few days' ride away."

"Wonderful." I clapped once and the Dothraki flinched. "I have heard that the Dothraki are gracious and welcoming hosts. Perhaps we should see how much truth there is to that claim."

The former slaves roared out their approval. And I could not fault them for the desire to see the backbone of the slave trade suffer.

The pregnant women hobbled in my direction and Ymir's titan hand rose as a warning. I raised my hand, stopping my supporters from grabbing and ripping the woman to shreds. She fell down before me, tears in her eyes and pled, "Please, Great Giant, spare them. Spare our people. Please!"

"Your people have wronged many, woman." I answered, my tone harsh. "But rest assured that no young children, babies or their mothers would be harmed, nor would I allow them to suffer the injustices that your people meted out." I turned to those who had given me their allegiance. "You hear that, my people? None of you will take anyone forcefully, nor will you enslave or oppress any other peoples. Any who do so shall face the Titan's wrath." With a harsh swipe of my hand, the spikes that held up the impaled corpses of hundreds of Dothraki retracted and their bodies fell like puppets with their strings cut. The woman sobbed and was ushered away by her equally distraught friends.

The wild man grinned and aggressively saluted by pounding a hand against his chest, while the rest bowed their heads. There were certainly some that did not agree with my decree but their internal grumbling meant less than shite to me. They will either obey or suffer the consequences. I will not have savages in my court. Hah! I was already thinking like a king. I looked at Ymir and smiled, she smiled back.

The Dothraki could not be allowed to exist as a nation any longer. This was clear to me. My newfound powers compounded my desire to bring some real civilisation to this wretched land and free its people. For what were armies and chains to titans that could shake the world?

Chapter Text

While Ymir took on the task of crafting stone chains and manacles for the Dothraki out of thin air, I commanded my followers- those who were uninjured and had enough strength left in them- to wrap up the camp. They were not to take anything from the loot for themselves but were to bring it to a designated spot where I would distribute it accordingly. I placed Marius and Farwan of Nefer- the weird bearded man- in charge of calculating the value of the loot and crowd control, respectively.

This would not only put idle minds and hands to work but also provide an opportunity for any disloyal fools and thieves to play their hand.

Any injured individuals were tended to by two Lhazareen midwives who knew enough of healing wounds to clean and sew up the most alarming ones and make sure the less alarming ones did not get infected.

With a mere thought, the titans looming above the camp began to vanish bit by bit into clouds of scalding hot steam. Gasps, whisperings and confused glances were sent my way. I calmly walked up to the entrance of the old Khal's tent and sat down on a smooth, high-backed, grey stone throne that rose up out of the earth.

I closed my eyes and looked inwards. It was time to ask some very pointed questions to the being that had attached itself to our bodies. Or was it our souls? Either way, it had much to explain about itself and I wasn't going to trudge through my life ignoring the existence of an eldritch worm that gave us access to physics-breaking power.

I didn't know what I expected to see when I reached out to the worm, but a vast white sand desert with a thick, tall glowing pillar in the middle wasn't it. Its pulsing colours were in shades so awe-inspiring and magnificent, that for a while I stood there on the dune, entranced.

Finally tearing my eyes away, I looked up to see unknown constellations glittering in the sky. Every so often, a shooting star would streak across the heavens in pursuit of some unseen destination.

I felt the draw of the pillar and began my trek across the greyish-white expanse. I did not tire here, not exactly, nor did I hunger. There was no heat or cold nor any wind, yet I had no trouble breathing. My feet carried me up and down over dunes and long stretches of flatlands and silence.

How much time had passed, I did not know, but the pillar was closer now and more massive than it had first appeared, so much so that it took up much of my vision. I did not feel any fear or any anxiety. I was hesitant, certainly, but who wouldn't be?

What I felt standing close to the pillar, I could not describe in mere words. The buzz and thrum of overwhelming power, of something beyond what humanity was capable of comprehending. Yet despite that I did not bow to it, nor did I allow myself to be overwhelmed. Just because a thing was powerful, did not make it a god. I had no wish to be worshipped by ants and as such, I refused to worship this thing. That did not mean that I did not respect it.

I reached out and placed my right hand over the shifting blue plasma-like substance that made up the pillar. My hand passed through the plasma coating and I felt its presence.

"What are you?" I asked the being.

While the response I received was not audible, I understood it regardless. It 'spoke' in its own tongue- one of struggle, survival, and the will to live and persevere.

From what I understood, it was a creature that was born among the stars far away from the world I had found it in. Its home was the belt of stars- bright, hot and mighty. They provided its species with enough energy to survive, reproduce and live comfortably for millions of years. The spatial distortion due to the cosmic movement of nearby neutron stars helped their species adapt to the ever-shifting fabric of space. This ability aided them in travelling to and from the closest stars, seeking out the occasional gamma-ray burst remnants that passed by.

The species enjoyed an era of prosperity and lazy comfort for a million years or so until that fateful cycle when an object accelerating at the speed of light smashed into one of their homes. The star instantly exploded, killing all inside and those in the vicinity. I could sense the being's sadness and loss.

At first they had thought it a cosmic accident- a tragedy. However, that theory was quickly abandoned when another star exploded. This was clearly an attack by an individual or a civilisation that had mastered the art of light and space and were able to calculate the current and future positionings of celestial bodies. They were trying to eliminate their people and the worst part was that they were succeeding.

I wondered how that could be. Clearly the worm had mastered some power over light, space and time, and likely much more. So what made the mysterious genociders so dangerous? Apart from the benefit of surprise.

The worm shook its head in dismay. No, the attacks came with increasingly deadly precision, with less and less intervals between the last. Any attempts to strike back were thwarted when its people failed to trace where exactly they had originated from. Part of the reason why was that they had lived too long without any natural predators, another was that their enemy was an old hand at this game. Once they had exhausted all immediate avenues, a small remnant of their people fled the belt and wandered among the stars for centuries.

Over the years it became easier to predict when their new home would be struck. It became easier to avoid too once they realised that the enemy was tracking them down through their unique energy signatures. And so they were forced to learn how to hide, something they had never done before. They began travelling under the cover of gamma-rays and nebulae, riding the waves of supernovae, avoiding burning their own fuel.

Stars did not hide their presence for too long as the enemy noticed their smaller blue flame bonfires hiding among orange/red flamed ones, so to speak. Thus, their species never stayed in one star for too long.

Unfortunately, while their enemy did not explode as many stars as before, it had certainly not forgotten about them. Its people would soon learn what it meant to defy, frustrate and persist against such a foe. For this time, their enemy did not send an accelerating object, but something much worse. The worm tried to describe what happened in the simplest words it could manage.

While they were in transit, the worm was ahead of the 'caravan' due to being much younger in age, while the elders took up the rear. It happened suddenly and without any warning. Space-time behind it screeched as a tiny patch of it was forced to occupy a higher plane of existence for a zeptosecond. That was all the time needed for its people to be sent into a higher spatial dimension. A spatial dimension they had never before occupied or adapted to- a death sentence for a species born and raised in 3D space.

Fortunately, for the worm, it had been just barely outside the reach of the spatial attack, and so while most of its body was swallowed up into 4D space, the portion which had housed its central consciousness, had been left behind in 3D space.

The worm was uneasy and angry as it recalled those first few moments when parts of its body expanded and contracted all at the same time. Those were some horrifying and painful moments. The worm had survived but at the cost of unimaginable suffering.

It suffered for a long, long time. It did not screech nor did it send out any calls for aid- that would be foolish, for who knows what might hear it in the vast cosmos.

It persevered and in time, little by little, its body and consciousness grew used to higher dimensions. If it was one thing that their species had found themselves to be masters of, it was quickly adapting to environmental pressures and challenges. How mournful it was then, that it was the last of its kind.

Once it had become proficient enough to pull its body in and out of dimensions, it chose to fully immerse itself into 4D space. There were far too many advantages not to do so. Finding someone by their energy signature or finding them at all was nearly impossible there. The rules that governed reality there were strange and sometimes downright fantastical. Travel times were cut short by quite a margin, and time manipulation on a scale that 4D space allowed, made hiding and escaping the notice of the enemy achievable.

However, just because the worm had transcended its prior existence did not mean that it could march boldly through the wider cosmos. It was very likely that their enemy lived in 4D space or had some way of using its power to strike down into lower dimensions. Better to be safe than sorry.

In the end it had arrived on a prehistoric Earth, shapeshifted into a local sea creature to blend in, then tied itself down to the fresh planet and hibernated until the moment it met us.

Wow. Ok. That was one hell of a tale and it was, quite frankly, terrifying to hear about civilisations so advanced that they could collapse portions of higher realities into lower ones and send FTL missiles to destroy suns just to kill a certain race.

I had several questions, of course. I could understand its desire to keep a low profile, however that still didn't explain why it had bound itself to us and obeyed our commands. A being as powerful as it had no reason to do so, right?

It let out an approximation of a laugh and replied that it did not want to risk itself in 3D space and we were to be the bullseye. That… did not please me. Not at all. The worm was amused.

A fair exchange. You use my powers however you want, I live through you. I live, you live. It shot back, and despite how offended I might've felt hearing that the worm was using us as an extension of itself in 3D space, I knew it spoke the truth. It was providing me with the power to live, heal from fatal injuries in an instant, and do crazy stuff that I would not have been able to do as I was right now.

Not extension, it corrected, We are one and the same. Neither is the master.

That made sense. "That's very reassuring but why us specifically? You could've had your pick out of thousands of humans over the years."

Hate being hunted. Hate being prey. You and the girl were prey. Helped become predators. It hummed in satisfaction then hummed once more as if mulling over something. Not the same universe, it trailed off.

This was not the most surprising news that I had received today, I had suspected as much. 'How?' Was the golden question. How did I skip across universes? Asoiaf was supposed to be a story, but here I was. Right in the thick of it, living in it.

The worm apparently shared my curiosity. It too, wanted to know how such a thing was possible. I sensed an undercurrent of excitement underneath the curiosity. The being was excited to finally be free of the shadow that its ancient pursuers had cast all its life. It was free and so were we.

I did not fully trust the worm but I knew deep down that it wasn't overtly malicious or evil. Moreover, I could fully command its power and it would let me. That was enough for now.

When asked about my magic, the worm was just as lost as I was. It could supplement this magic with its own energy but was confused about how magic did what it did. It had never come across something like it and encouraged me to perform any experiments that I needed to. A powerful skill is always a welcome addition to one's arsenal.

My talk with the worm continued for a while. I asked about the bizarre plane we were on, and it told me that its inner workings were far beyond what the human mind could handle. All I needed to know was that these- Paths- existed on a layer of reality different from realspace and made it easier for the worm to channel its power to our bodies.

Ah, a pipeline, or more accurately, a nervous system.

Satisfied and leaving with more answers than I had initially expected to, I opened my eyes and found… that only a minute had passed.

Huh. Interesting.

I looked down at the pile of gold, silver, jewels and bolts of silk and linen. It was quite a sizeable haul from what I understood. Off to another side and in a much larger pile, were the personal belongings that I had ordered Marius to reappropriate.

He fidgeted under my gaze, worried perhaps that I was dissatisfied. I was not. What I was dissatisfied with was how much time it would take to ask every former slave about what they'd lost and then dig through that pile to return it to them.

At that rate we'd be here for another hour. Unacceptable. I reached out into their minds, and summoned tentacles made of stark white flesh to return their belongings to them. I waved away the mutterings of thanks and fearful gratitude.

"Marius?" I got up, my throne crumbling into the dirt.

"Yes, Your Excellency?" He gulped.

"How many wagons would it take to store all this?" I pointed at the remaining loot.

"Two wagons should do it, Your Excellency," he nodded.

"Then do so. We wish to leave for Vaes Dothrak as soon as possible." Marius bowed and Farwan began shouting orders to the freedmen.

I've never properly ridden a horse before and attempting to do so now might backfire and embarrass me in front of so many people. I still vividly recall my father placing little-me on the back of a horse, how uncomfortable it was, and how every movement tickled my ass.

And so instead of riding a horse like every normal person in this world, I chose to summon a beast that I could control and whom I could mount without any slip-ups. Yes, yes, I know. I'd get used to riding horses but who needed a living horse when I could just materialise a beast that was hard to kill and nearly impossible to tire?

The people nearby gasped as an unfriendly-looking, dark grey, bicorn-like creature emerged from the steam. Its flesh was exposed in some places, scale-armoured in others, two forward-pointing horns jutted out its head and red demonic eyes observed its surroundings, huffing steam all the while. Its saddle was attached to its back and made of a soft, springy, white flesh-like substance.

Mounting the bicorn was easier, being an extension of myself.

If Ymir had heard my inner thoughts and sensed why I had done so, she did not show it, only asking me if I wanted her to ride a horse or summon a beast for herself.

I was honestly confused. Why did this girl need my permission at all to do something so simple? Why not just do it? She kept her eyes lowered and awaited my approval. Then it clicked and I nearly facepalmed. She had been a slave for most of her adolescence, of course she'd ask before she did something. It was a worrisome conditioning to have and I made a note to work on breaking this habit of her's. I wanted a partner, not a slave.

I did not delay giving her permission to summon a bicorn of her own, however. Drawing attention to our silence was not what we needed right now. If these people figured out that Ymir needed my approval for everything, they might challenge her authority in my absence. That was unacceptable.

With a nudge from my heels, and a snap of the reins, I rode out ahead of the caravan, Ymir riding beside me, and everyone else following close behind. The children and pregnant women were thrown into wooden cages that the slaves had once occupied, and those that could walk were pulled along by the chains that bound their hands. According to Marius- at our speed, we'd reach Vaes Dothrak by the hour of the owl (at almost midnight).

Chapter Text

"Marius?" I turned to the Pentoshi riding to my left. He brought his horse closer.

"Are there any important events that have occurred in recent years?" I wanted to know what point in this world's fucked up history I had landed in. It was clearly after the Doom if the Dothraki had crossed the Bones. And since Marius had been given away as tribute by Pentos of all places, it stood to reason that the time period was well after the start of the Century of Blood- the Dothraki weren't as influential or as feared in those early years. My canon information could also be way off or entirely incorrect in this world- as it was no longer just a fantasy book series.

Marius frowned and blinked, puzzled by my question perhaps. "Important events, Your Excellency?"

"Current events," I clarified. "Wars, alliances, treaties, assassinations or any upheaval that you can remember. We are not from this land, Marius." Farwan's eyes glittered with curiosity and Marius looked intrigued. "We shall learn of its history later- for now, I want you to tell me about the most recent happenings."

"Ah, I see." Marius scratched his beard, and hummed. "There hasn't been any of particular note this decade, however, when I was a strapping young lad," Farwan grinned widely and was doing his best to not burst out laughing. "I recall that Tyrosh and Pentos were at war. The war had escalated to such an extent that it had disrupted trade on both sides, ruining many masters and merchants. Thankfully our family survived due to my father's foresight." Marius grew melancholy.

"And when was this war?" I asked.

"Two decades past, Your Excellency," he replied.

That didn't narrow it down in the slightest, but then again, I wasn't the greatest timeline nut. "And what about the western continent- Westeros, I hear it's called- who rules over it?"

A glimpse of his surface thoughts showed that Marius was confused as to why I wanted to know who ruled the continent half a world away. Despite his confusion, Marius answered honestly, "Jaehaerys Targaryen, a dragonlord and rider of the Bronze Terror. His family is the last of the Valyrian dragonlords and have been ruling over the Seven Kingdoms for," he paused to mentally calculate the time, "five and seventy years."

Yes! I wasn't anywhere close to the doomsday clusterfuck of canon. "Interesting. And how many wives and children does this Jaehaerys have?" I knew he only had one wife, but might as well check if this world was massively AU.

"Only one, Alysanne, his sister by blood," Marius wrinkled his nose. "Valyrians are odd like that."

"I once heard from a Westerosi trader in Qarth that the Silver Queen pops out a brat every year," Farwan piped up.

"Surely that's not possible," Marius sounded horrified.

Farwan snickered, "Of course not, she only had fourteen brats, and out of those, only eight survived- or so I heard." So not AU then.

"And what of you, Farwan of Nefer?" I turned to the man in question who looked startled, "Your homeland's name is not one I've heard of in this part of the world. You sound like a well-travelled man. What brought someone like you from Qarth to the Grass Sea?"

"Ah, the Titan King is wise. This servant is indeed well-travelled," Farwan smiled, "I was born in Nefer. Nefer the Cruel, Nefer the Twisted, Nefer the City of Necromancers. Many ill names it has." I raised an eyebrow at that. I recalled a small paragraph from the World of Ice and Fire- of a city west of Mossovy. One that was infamous for its dark arts and shrouded in mystery and sailor's tales. It was such a short paragraph that I had nearly forgotten its existence. Carcosa, on the other hand, I remembered, despite the least amount of lore. Though that might have to do with the obvious reference to Chamber's King in Yellow.

"It was once the capital of the N'ghai Empire, an Empire that shattered long ago. It lies to the east of the Bones, where the great river Bo'hai empties into the Shivering Sea. Only a small part of the city is above the earth, all the rest is deep below where the sun reaches not," he paused and sighed.

"The Secret City, Great Titan, is one I would not wish for any child to be born into. The tales, while somewhat exaggerated, are to be heeded," he said, gravely. "It is home to some old sorcerers and witches, some old enough to have seen the glory of Valyria before its Doom. Much of the city does not practice the darker arts. Most just hope to live." He trailed off as if lost in some memory.

"Interesting," I muttered. "And these sorcerers are necromancers too, I presume?"

"Every sorcerer knows the black arts, my King, but few practice it as frequently as the Dead Lords."

"The Dead Lords?" A title I did not remember seeing in the books.

Farwan frowned, "Aye, the Dead Lords rule Nefer. Any who defy them are taken to them, any who steal are taken to them, and any who die of age or wounds are taken to them."

"And what happens to those who are taken to them?" I suspected but my morbid curiosity hungered for the details.

"Unspeakable things. The screams are often heard in the dead of night if one places an ear to the carved cave floor." He finished and said no more. Marius looked creeped out and I would be too if I didn't have an image to maintain.

"How did you end up here then, Farwan? Nefer sounds quite far away."

Farwan nodded. "I did not wish to end up lying on the Dead Lords' altars and so I sought a way out of the city. It was not easy, Great Titan. If it were not for the small bottles of Evening Shade that I was able to scrounge up for my escape, I would not have made it out the twisting, winding tunnels that led upwards. The Shade showed me what the unopened eye could not see. It showed me what was to come and where to go."

Shade of the Evening? As far as Nefer? Was there a grove of black and blue trees thereabouts?

When asked, Farwan explained that the Shade was sourced from the dark, haunted forests of Mossovy. The Dead Lords paid a fortune in crystals and limestone to demon hunters for crates upon crates of the substance. A vial or two missing were hardly noticed while in transit.

"Did you see my arrival in those visions of yours?" I lightly pressed against his mind, I had to know if he was here because the magic weed guided him or if it was just dumb chance. The former would be very alarming, if true.

"Nay, I did not." He did not lie. "I would remember if I had dreamt of the coming of towering titans."

A deeper search through his so-called dreams had shown me what exactly he had seen. The Shade helped him cross the plains of the Jogos Nhai without being seen by the zorseriders, a nearly impossible task without magical foresight. It helped him foresee the dangers of Yi-Ti. Sadly, his supply ran out before he could reach Qarth and it was that need that brought him to Qarth's gates.

"Unfortunately, slavers caught me and sold me off to the cunts from Slaver's Bay- pardon my tongue- and there I remained serving one of the cruel masters until they gave me to the Khal," he finished.

"It was fortunate then, that you did not cross paths with the Warlocks. They are not an enemy to be underestimated."

He grinned. "Yes. It was fortune indeed, perhaps fate, that led me to you, my King." He hesitated but then gathered up his courage to ask the question that had been burning in his throat. "Titan King… what you did there, it was beyond any kind of magic I had ever felt or seen. If I may ask…?"

I motioned him to continue. "Such magic would beggar all the sorcerers of the world. Perhaps if they all joined together and brought out every slave in the world and slit their throats… perhaps then such acts might be possible. Yet… what I felt… sacrifice leaves its taint and I saw none of it on you or your queen."

"And that shocks you? Speak plainly, Farwan," I commanded.

He gulped. "It does, my King," his eyes shone with admiration, "to require no sacrifice and cast such spells as if it was nothing…"

"I am no god, Farwan, nor is my queen, if that is the conclusion to which you have arrived. But I am no mere man either. I am a Titan, and that is all you must understand," I spoke with finality.

Farwan bowed deeply, the admiration had not dulled but gained a new wind. "As you say, my King. This servant did not lie. He considers you worthy of following. To the ends of the world if need be."

We rode until the sun reached a low point to the west, and camped only so the people and the horses could rest. After half an hour of respite, our caravan set out once more. The Mother of Mountains could be seen on the horizon- a giant, snow capped lance punching into the sky. Its peak glittered like a horde of diamonds under the light of the low sun and I felt a strange feeling originating from my Red/Fire magic. How strange.

The moon's light shone bright and silver, unhampered by any passing cloud. The wind was cool and fresh, and countless stars could be seen spread out like a canopy covering the clear skies wherever the eye turned. It was breathtaking, to be honest. For a city boy who had never seen the stars so bright and wonderful, it was really something.

And then I looked to the people beside me, Ymir included, and noticed that they were all equally unbothered by the sights. I shook my head. Some people had lived so long in the shadow of nature's wonders that they had become common to them.

Our caravan halted under the shadow of one of the smooth flat-topped hills. The Mother of Mountains was closer now, so much so that it took up much of the eastern horizon. It loomed over us, casting a long shadow to the south. The massive lake known as the Womb of the World, reflected the starlight and moonlight like a giant mirror.

The tent city of Vaes Dothrak could be seen from in the distance, its flickering orange campfires like fireflies, spread along the edge of the lake. A faint hint of bonfires, laughter and barbecue carried itself on the wind. The outlines of two large, prancing statues of horses facing each other, marked the entrance to the city.

There were no guards stationed near the Horse Gate, nor had I sensed any scouts so far. No walls either. It was as if the horse savages did not care to guard the entry into their beloved city. Was it the assurance and belief that no army would dare march so far or was it plain arrogance? Perhaps a bit of both.

The people were anxious, their restlessness clear to see. Whether it was fear or excitement, none of them were willing to turn back, that much I could tell.

I closed my eyes and reached out to the minds inside the city. Hundreds of children below the age of ten resided here, and a few dozen above that. The teenagers that were set into the ways of rapists and murderers were ones that I marked for death. The pregnant mothers would be spared, while grown women who were not carrying any child were marked alongside the adult men.

The elderly were few and far between. Dothraki, apparently, killed their elders or sent them out into the steppes without any horse or rations to 'seek the sleep'. In their eyes, those who could not contribute or were infirm, were weak burdens.

How barbaric. Another reason to rip apart this travesty of a nation.

I opened my eyes and shared a look with Ymir, explaining my plan to her through our connection. She nodded and our bicorns vanished into steam. Now on foot, we walked until we stood before the bronze horses set upon thick and stout, squarish stone pedestals.

Ymir took in a deep breath, it was her first time compromising the molecular integrity of objects and mine to see it being done. Whatever she and I had done so far was quite blunt and rigid, only creating matter out of brute force will and imagination. The chains and manacles were something she could, unfortunate as it was, picture better than me.

I knew now, on some level, that the worm's titan-creation powers had more to do with matter manipulation than biological manipulation as I had first suspected. And so it was time to see how far we could take this power and what exactly we could accomplish with the knowledge I had, rather than what the worm could offer.

It was also an opportunity for Ymir to learn something that she had never thought existed. And so I remained a few paces behind, observing her work through the link.

With a frown, she focused, trying her best to picture and feel for the unseen bonds that held matter together, the bonds I had described to her.

At first, it looked like nothing happened.

Then there was a deep thud, and while the people behind us could not see it in the dark, I could and so did Ymir. Her lips split into a smile when she did. There was a large, uniform crack in one of the horse's flanks.

So interesting!

Ymir balled her fists up and closed her eyes. The cracks grew and the bronze moaned. The whispers of our people grew as they finally understood what was happening.

Suddenly, the horses shattered in on themselves and the broken pieces hit the ground with a thud. There was silence and then mutterings broke out. The prisoners seeing this, began sobbing and weeping in despair. Farwan smirked as if he had found a piece to a puzzle, while Marius was just awed like all the others.

I smiled and nodded when Ymir turned to me. If she was asking for a head pat, then I would have to postpone it, as this was not the time nor the place for it. And so I sent feelings of approval her way. Her smile brightened and she shyly turned her face away.

Sigh. I prodded her to carry on and deal with the other idols along the path, as planned. Leaving behind the Horse Gate's shattered remains and its dusty, stained pedestals, Ymir walked ahead and began turning the other statues into usable and manageable materials. With fleshy tentacles, she sorted the jewels embedded into them into one pile and shaped the other materials such as stone, bronze, steel, gold and silver into ingots.

I helped her avoid sorting the jewels that had some magical energy stored in them. Those were dangerous, since I didn't know how they'd react to being touched. I left them for later inspection. Thankfully, these magic gems were few and far between.

By my command, the caravan began marching through the Horse Gate like an army of elated conquerors or perhaps pilgrims returning to their homeland.

I did my part with a visible upwards jerk of my arms, as if I was the conductor of an orchestra that only I could hear. The earth rumbled and shocked exclamations could be heard from the city. Small critters rushed towards the lake with great urgency. Where there was nothing but a steady upwards slope, now stood a tall, sturdy, seamless wall made entirely of micro-interlocking, adaptive black crystals- enough to hold back the assault of most armies and sorcerers in this world. The wall perfectly encircled the tent city in a mile radius, ending only at a slope of the mountain that was the hardest to climb up or down.

A 6 m high gate made of white and blue diamonds glittered into existence, embedded into the 15 m tall walls and sealed itself shut once the last of the caravan had crossed the threshold.

Once close enough to the city, I pulled on the panicking minds and sorted them. There would be no blood spilled, except for that which I wished to spill.

I seized every mind within the camp, the power of the worm was plenty enough for such minor acts of mind control. No further shouts of alarm were raised. The Dothraki of Vaes Dothrak, calmly and quietly walked into their assigned camps. One for those who would be spared, and the other for those sentenced to death. The most influential faction currently in the city, the Dosh Khaleen- the wives of dead Khals- were among the latter.

One by one I had looked into their minds and what I saw were women so entrenched in their savage traditions and arrogant beliefs that I considered it far too much work to brainwash them and too much of a risk to let them live. Their end would be just like all those who followed the creed of slavers, thieves and rapers.

I had my men deprive everyone of any possible weapons, then twisted the ground to swallow their legs up to their knees. Only then did I allow them to come to their senses.

There were roars of rage, insults, and a common struggle to break free of the earth. Though, calling it a struggle was quite a stretch- it was more along the lines of pathetic wriggling. For five long minutes, the wriggling and screaming continued. Then one of the more rowdier lads was fully swallowed up into the earth, which stopped the fools from continuing down that path.

"Let me tell you what shall become of you savages-" I began, only to be rudely interrupted by a coarse shout.

"Savages?! Let me out gutter trash and I'll show you why weak whore spawns like you should stay in your pathetic cities!" A twenty-something year old, Dothraki jeered with a mocking grin on his face. The Dothraki who had heard his challenge laughed loudly alongside him. The prisoners did not join in, they were horrified at his daring.

Farwan stepped forward, his face twisted in rage, echoing my followers' rising hatred for this fool. The worst of all was Ymir's anger. Her little fists clenched and if it weren't for me raising a hand to halt any violence, she would've impaled him and then stomped on his broken body.

I calmly turned to look at the buffoon, saying nothing for two painful minutes. I did not break eye contact and watched his smile falter and expression turn from gloating to awkward and sheepish. My face betrayed no emotion as I slowly walked up to the foul-mouthed douchebag and he flinched, suddenly afraid. His animal sense of self-preservation warred with his pride.

I was curious and wanted to test my new powers on human flesh. I certainly didn't want to perform any tests on myself for my first go at it, so imagine my joy when a volunteer presented himself.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. No matter how much he tried to shrug it off or twist my arm, it did not budge or give, infused with a small fragment of titanic strength as it was.

I spoke softly, yet my voice reached every ear. "That was not a very nice thing to say. I do not like it when people insult my family." My hand lightly gripped his throat now, the little barbarian's eyes were blown wide with fear. "I heard that you savages take great pride in your horses. You ride them saddle-less from a young age. Groom them, feed them, wage war astride them. Horselords, you call yourselves." I paused, "I wonder, if you've thought of what it feels like to truly be one with your beasts."

He blinked confused at what I was getting at. He would understand soon enough.

With a force that could not be denied, my power seeped into his flesh. He twitched at first and then he screamed, trying to pull away. I held firm.

While he did so, I observed his insides. His blood, organs, mind, bones, and then once satisfied, dived deeper. I peeked into the cells that made up the structure of his biology. Going deeper still, I saw the molecular bonds and acid that held the cells together, vibrating in an erratic dance. Then I saw his atoms.

The human body was truly a work of art, even in the hands of a toadstool like this. Today, however, I was not here to admire the artwork, but to see what I could twist it into.

Inside the cell, the double helix columns of his DNA unveiled its secrets. The power to manipulate matter seeped and entrenched itself into his chromosome and the cell's mitochondria.

With the worm slowly guiding me through the, otherwise arduous, process, I began to manipulate the segments and groups of nucleotides. Manipulating the groups was easier when I understood which group had what role in the biological make-up of the being.

Once I had decided what to do, applying it in any meaningful and immediately visible capacity was the most difficult part.

I smiled, watching his cells shudder and his body jerk in confusion, the instructions for the body's make-up had fundamentally changed. The change in one cell was carried over to the other and the cell multiplication dealt with the rest.

I pulled my mind out of the man's body- not that it could be called a man anymore. I released his legs from the earth and watched with morbid fascination as he screamed and twisted. Bone and sinew tore and knitted itself back together again. His flesh bubbled and boiled as his body went through a vicious change that would've certainly killed him, had I not been constantly supporting it with my power.

His feet elongated into hoofs, and his hips widened and gained stronger muscle definition. His back bent and stretched, bowing into a familiar form, a long chestnut tail grew through a nerve-ending above the tailbone. His screams turned into high-pitched neighs.

My followers and the Dothraki all watched with horror as a crime against humanity was carried out- but then again, was it a crime if the Geneva Conventions did not exist?

Some screamed and fainted, while others emptied their bowels. Yet all saw, and they understood.

A horse-like creature scrambled up to its hoofs. I say 'horse-like' as atop its long neck, a human head remained. Its eyes were wild, watery and bloodshot. Its lips frothing, the chin, jaw and teeth having more in common with the Hapsburgs. I had purposefully let a major part of its human mind and consciousness intact so as to suffer.

"Now, he shall ride and live as a horse, henceforth. What a beautiful gift! Do you not think so?" I laughed and my followers laughed with me, though some were still too shaken to laugh heartily and so managed a few awkward chuckles.

"Aren't you happy, little savage?" I addressed the horse-thing. "You have left your human flesh behind and become something you have admired all your life. Now that you're part horse, it is my responsibility to help you experience all the aspects of being a horse. Farwan! Marius! Bring the best stallions! They have travelled quite a distance. It is only right that they receive some relief."

Farwan laughed loudly and skillfully brought two strapping, and aggressive stallions to the newly formed mare-man. The mare-man neighed, and tried to kick back in self-defense, but I did not allow it.

I chuckled, "Don't worry, pretty little mare. You will give birth to healthy horses. You need not fear for any of your taint being carried forwards."

I slowly met the eyes of every Dothraki, each emptying their guts in horror and disgust and and then addressed them, ignoring the horse rape in the background. "I have commanded my followers to not rape or enslave any conquered peoples. They will obey." My followers nodded vigorously. "But the horses have been given no such commands. They are beasts and shall do as beasts do."

"Do you understand?" I asked them simply. My demonstration was primarily aimed at those I'd let live, yet they all understood and bowed their heads as one. Perfect.

Then I walked up to the Dosh Khaleen who began begging for my mercy. "Silence!" They whimpered and ceased their irritating wails.

"I was told that this city is the heartland of the horselords." They nodded. "And yet… I noticed a very clear lack of prominent Khalasars. Why is that?"

A middle-aged woman wearing a red bead necklace hesitantly spoke up, "T-they are away. Riding across t-the Grass Sea to s-seek their f-fortunes."

"And when will they return?"

"In a weeks' time. T-they were all to c-come for the grand yearly m-meeting," she stammered.

Ah, so that's why Khal Jhogo was riding this way. "Good. That suits us just fine," I nodded. "I shall greet them the same way I greeted Khal Jhogo and his riders." While the youth had thrashed around, the Dosh Khaleen had seen the walls that had never existed, and noticed their people in cages and bound in chains. They had figured out what had occurred and my demonstration just now had ignited their worst fears. In their minds I was some demon come to torment their people.

With a snap of my fingers, every savage marked for death was impaled on stakes of white bone. One moment they were alive and well, and the next, their cries and screams filled the air. The slaver merchants who came to trade in flesh shared their company.

The Dosh Khaleen, seeing this began wailing in despair, scratching at their faces, and pulling at their hair.

"Please!" One of them yelled out of desperation when she saw me raising my hand to snap again. I stopped and raised an eyebrow.

Seeing that she had caught my attention the woman tried her best to bow as low as she could. "Please, Great Khal." I internally rolled my eyes. "Spare us! Mercy, please. This slave would offer you anything! Anything! Ask and I shall present it to you. If it is the lives of these old crones you want, I shall cut their throats myself," she vowed with a mad smile, uncaring of her sisters' insults and curses.

"Is that so?" I pretended to consider.

"Yes! My body? Yours, Great Khal! My womb can still bear you strong sons that would spread your great line through the world!" The madwoman tore at the frontal laces of her brown tunic, exposing her breasts to the world. Before I could laugh out loud and break her spirit in full, the chance to do so was lost to me.

A thick serrated bone lance spun and tore through her chest, making a mess of her insides.

I looked to my left, seeing Ymir breathing heavily. She searched my eyes for any disapproval and felt relieved when she found none. Nodding resolutely, she condemned the Dosh Khaleen to death.

"My servants, we have much work before us. In a week's time, the Khals will arrive with their Khalasars in tow. As the new residents of this city, it is our responsibility to warmly welcome them." I laughed and was met by a loud cheer.

Things were certainly looking up. Now all I needed to do was build an actual city, rule over it, maintain a tight grip on law and order, feed my people, protect them from external and internal threats, and figure out why the fuck was the mountain and the lake calling out to the two flavours of my magic.

There was no rest for Kings.

Chapter Text

After the brutal executions, the bodies were piled onto several carts, driven far enough away from the city and burnt so that the spread of disease would be minimised.

I gave all the necessary orders for the night. Marius was placed in charge of providing accommodations to the people, as well as the bare minimum of food to the prisoners, little children excluded. Farwan was given command of a few dozen or so able men to patrol the battlements of the newly raised wall- wide enough for two men to walk side by side.

While the men did not complain I could see that their fatigue and lack of sleep due to hours of constant riding, was catching up to them. Their movements were lethargic and their eyes were red and droopy. They made for a pitiful sight and I was not a cruel man who would run them ragged.

I called Marius, Farwan and their appointed underlings before me. "You are tired. I can see it clearly." There were plenty of light protests and some of them even straightened their backs in a comical way to showcase how 'full of vigour' they were. I stopped myself from snorting or smiling too widely.

"No. This would not do." Some faces fell, others grew fearful, perhaps afraid of what I might do to them for this 'failure'. I alleviated their fears by asking Marius to come forward. He did and knelt down on one knee. I lightly placed my hand on his scalp and made it so that any wounds, illnesses, and fatigue disappeared. The ageing man's body regained its previous vigour and muscle, and his teeth no longer rotted from the roots. God, I hated rotting teeth. So disgusting. Sadly, most people in this world had improper dental hygiene. Alas, it came upon me to fix the tooth decay of my people.

When the rest saw Marius become a decade younger and regain his strength, they too, practically vibrated with excitement. "I feel well-rested, Your Excellency… how?" He clenched his hands and patted his chest and belly with wonder. The awe in his eyes was magnified in this moment and as I did this in public, everyone witnessed it. The awe was present in every gaze.

"Always remember, Marius of Pentos, that just as I shall punish beastly men, rebels, and slavers, so too shall I reward those who stand loyally by my side." I watched him nod along to my words as if they were the most sagely advice he had ever heard in his life. Farwan came next, and after him- the eager line of men and women who had been given tasks.

In truth, I simultaneously liked and disliked the adulation. I disliked how, deep down, I felt like Lord Voldemort marking his first batch of Death Eaters. The same troubling pseudo-fanaticism was present- or at least, that's how I pictured it to have been when the bastard first rose to power.

Either way, it was strange to me. Then again, I thought to myself, if I didn't want this kind of loyalty and respect then I shouldn't have placed myself in the boots of a supernatural King. I could've taken Ymir and left these people to their fate, and yet I didn't. All that I had done before and after was necessary to keep these people in line and make the Dothraki too afraid to rebel. This temporary boost to their bodies was also a necessity borne of taking a new city and keeping it.

I could've crafted a few hundred or so living, stone soldiers, whose sheer size would've made even Gregor Clegane gulp. Under their tireless, watchful gazes, we could've slept away this night. Yet, I did not.

Because this was their city too. If they wished to stay here, each of them had to contribute to it, one way or another. It was more beneficial to temporarily cure some of them of fatigue and make them work through the night, than to protect everyone with unkillable stone soldiers. I did not want my people to rely entirely on me, as such people would only become lethargic and lazy. Lazy people were the beginning of the end of any Empire alongside bad governance.

I picked out a two-storied, stepped pyramid in the centre of the city, built by the hands of slaves, it belonged to a successful Khal. I wanted to rest and sleep off the 'aches' and horrors of the day- mostly the latter. I didn't really need the sleep but a proper roof over my head would be welcome. Ymir followed quietly behind.

Seeing all that gore and gruesome deaths had a peculiar effect on my mind. I knew I was responsible for the death of countless men and women, yet I felt no regrets. To me these bastards were the worst of the worst, they deserved it. Yet the blood and gore, the stench and the sounds their flesh and guts made as they were pierced, refused to leave my mind, like a macabre song stuck in my head.

For a 21st century teen who had never seen someone die before his eyes, seeing nothing but blood, gore, death and other horrors for an entire day took its toll. It was incredibly hypocritical of me, since I was the one who chose to execute them in such a manner and I was the one who chose to twist another human's body into a grotesque. In some cases, I had no choice but to defend myself, but in others…

I chose to let my fury guide my hands, even though I could've just taken off that man's head and be done with it. No, I knew the truth of it, I could not lie to myself. I did it to make a point. I reveled in the power, a wicked part of me wanted to see him suffer, the same part which was delighted at the fear and terror of the people around me.

Was I a bad person? Hardly. Evil? No.

I killed rapists, murderers and slaver scum who would continue to spread suffering if let live. No, the world was better off without certain nations and people.

And so I did not throw up when I reached my room, only sat down on the bed and stared at the stone wall, trying not to let the fucked up images overtake my sanity.

Two warm arms wrapped around my midriff, and an even warmer body pressed itself against my back, its heartbeat pounding. Ymir's loose blonde hair tickled the back of my neck and her warm breath near my collar bone sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

"Please," she whispered so softly that I nearly thought I'd imagined it. "Don't t- torture yourself." I turned and looked into her earnest grey-blue eyes.

"N- Not for them," her voice was hoarse and halting but I didn't really mind. Ymir was speaking without being spoken to. That was… that was a massive improvement. So I let her speak.

"T- they were like t- the old masters," she gritted out angrily. The image of hundreds of horselords crushed under my war hammer flashed through my mind. "T- they w- would've killed you," she gripped my shirt tightly, as if terrified of the mere possibility, "and taken me in chains… t- to become-"

A vicious anger reared up inside me and I spun around and pinned her to the bed. My sudden move took her and myself by surprise, but my expression did not waver. My face twisted up into a scowl, and I growled, "You will not be a slave to anyone! I promised you this and I will stand by it." Ymir shivered, her eyes glistening with tears. If I wasn't connected to her, I would have thought her to be scared or alarmed by my actions. No, her surface thoughts said otherwise. She was happy, elated and I felt myself calm down, the Red at the edge of my eyes receding.

My muscles lost their tension and I let myself fall down onto the fur bed beside her. Ymir swung a slender leg over my hip and commandeered my left arm, burying her nose into my neck. Huh. How bold of her.

It was now that I realised the inappropriate intimacy of our sleeping arrangement. I was lying down in bed with a girl that should be in middle school and while I myself was not yet eighteen, it still felt kinda taboo.

Ymir must've felt my discomfort, she raised her head, "S- should I sleep on the f- floor?" She asked, hesitantly. Her cheeks were as red as a ripe tomato.

"No." There's no way you're sleeping on the floor, girl. The thought of letting her sleep in another room away from me never occurred to me.

She let her head drop limply on my arm and I let my hand rest on her shoulder. She hummed and her thigh twitched, tightening its hold.

If this was wrong then I didn't know what was right. Or perhaps I did and just didn't care, because being closer to her felt more natural than anything else in this world.

I ignored the insistent call of the mountain and the lake, they could bloody well wait until I was done with some well-earned shut-eye.

With that thought and Ymir's breath warming my neck, I fell asleep.

I awoke to darkness lit up by pale moonlight from a skylight and Ymir's soft steady breathing. After carefully extricating myself from the sleeping girl, I stood up from the bed.

After entering the room, I had completely forgotten to cleanse the likely lice infested sheets of a Dothraki Khal. The thought that we had slept in the unwashed bed made me shudder in disgust. Ugh.

Well, no time like the present. I closed my eyes and reached out for my power, this time purposefully using it in a way that did not alert Ymir. The poor girl deserved the rest.

A wave of tightly controlled, matter destroying power spread throughout the room. The woven stools, bed, bedsheets, wooden side tables, and fur blankets were cleansed of lice, diseases and bacteria.

Looking back and confirming that Ymir was still asleep, I quietly tip-toed away from the room, only slipping on my boots once in the long hallway.

I walked out through the large, ornate, wooden door and found the entrance guarded by two armed men. From their scars and build, it was apparent that these were pit-fighters of some kind that the Khal had bought off the 'good' masters of Slaver's Bay.

The guards saluted me, "My King."

"I'm off to inspect the walls. If Ymir… my Queen, awakes, let her know where I went," I ordered. Not that she wouldn't know in the first place, but hey, at least these two would feel like their job had some meaning.

With that I walked off. My objective? To clean up the magic gems lying outside the walls. Perhaps inspecting or interacting with these gems would allow me a glimpse into the magical capabilities of the ancients.

The heavens were in the late stages of twilight by the time I came onto the only entrance into the city. Farwan and his men saw me first and saluted appropriately. I ordered them to stay put and that there was no need to accompany me. They reluctantly agreed. The doors, as if sensing my presence, quietly opened up.

While the ingots and materials were brought back into the city, the jewels were where we had left them. Most were blood red rubies. There was only one fist-sized sapphire down the dusty path, one small emerald and two amethysts.

Each of these gems felt different. They were mostly untouched by the ravages of time or dust and mud but it was the strange buzz and unseen charges hovering around them that made it clear that these were not any ordinary gems. Not only that, but they also felt different from each other.

Since I didn't want to touch them, I reached out with my non-magical powers to prod them. Why not poke them with my magic? Well, that was obvious, wasn't it? I didn't want the gems to either get recharged on my magic or cause a damaging backlash. I simply didn't want to risk it.

After five minutes of poking and prodding the rubies, I figured out what most of these rubies were for. It was incredibly fascinating what the sorcerers who enchanted these gems had accomplished using the weird energy known as magic.

According to the few remaining flashes of memories captured in localised time- a form of psychometry, these rubies were primarily used for two interlinked purposes- absorbing the blood sacrifice of animals and humans and then using that contained energy to heal any wounded individual. Combine in the religious factor and the blood freely given, and it becomes clear why they were stuck onto idols.

The sapphire was, in my opinion, one of the most dangerous ones in the collection. It had multiple purposes- one being to fortify the minds of any warrior that bled on it, while the other enchantment pulled the truth from the tongue of anyone placed before it. It tried its best to reach out for my mind through the probe, but failed each time as the probe did not allow the energy to latch onto it, avoiding it by twisting and elongating the space around it. I was going to inspect this one thoroughly when I had the time.

The emerald, whose purpose was to 'bless' the crop seeds placed before it, was duller than the others, which was strange seeing as it had been lying on mostly fertile ground in the Dothraki Sea. If anything it should've thrived. Hm. I'll have to look into this.

The amethysts were incredibly 'vocal' with their enchantments, which were all about lust, sex, and fertility. Ah, yes humans crafting sex energy gems. Yeah, that checked out. These came from an idol stolen from the banks of the Rhoyne, likely made by the Rhoynar- just like the sapphire. Apparently, the amethysts were not lacking in lust energy, being very near to a city where almost everyone who was of age was fucking out in the open.

Throughout my inspection, I was unable to figure out how to enchant gems or artifacts of my own. Then again, I wasn't probing them with my magic so I was probably missing out on some mystical 'Ureka!'. Hmm, I could, alternatively, try investing some of my internal magic into a sword or a dagger and see how it reacts.

I sighed. Practical experimentation was the next step. If I wanted to understand how magic worked, I had to take the proverbial bull by the horns.

Pulling the earth together, I created a few different materials to test how their magic reacted to them. None of them truly hampered the magical abilities or prevented the energy from leaking out. Iron just barely hampered the energy inside the sapphire, and had a completely opposite effect on the emerald- enhancing its reach by a few inches. The rubies only buzzed in the presence of iron.

Silver on the other hand did not adequately contain any of the gems. Instead, the powers of the amethysts were enhanced when placed in proximity to silver.

I grunted in frustration. I now lamented not taking an interest in listening to those healing crystal weirdos on YouTube. That fluffy knowledge might've proven useful here.

In the end, I chose quartz for its low porosity, and resistance to heat and spills to contain the gems and stop them from coming into contact with water, blood or flesh.

I did not summon an ultra-hard stone or steel as that would be akin to letting magic affect those materials or even worse- mutate them beyond my control. From what I had heard, Mantarys was a city the Khalasars avoided because its people were mutated monsters after the fall of the Freehold- half demon half men. If magic could mutate biological lifeforms, it could possibly do the same to materials. Best let the quartz take the hit.

I crafted eight large quartz lockboxes, one lined with iron to contain the sapphire- each box was large enough to contain each gem's AoE. Then used some nifty telekinesis to place the gems inside. I sealed the box by melding the atoms of the lid with the container and carried them back into the city with telekinesis. Floating eight heavy quartz boxes with TK without looking at them, proved to be an excellent practice.

The sun was on the cusp of rising by the time I entered the city. The sky was turning a light greyish-blue, and the bats were on their way back to their caves inside the mountain.

Past the gate, I saw Ymir waiting for me. I did not say anything and she did not ask. She fell into step beside me. After placing the lockboxes into our pyramid's basement, I grabbed her hand and led her away.

Time to go and see what this Womb of the World wanted and why the Blue was so insistent on interacting with it.

On the way, I told Ymir what I was planning to do and how she could help. She was to make sure no one disturbed me and to provide any backup in case it all went awry. She nodded solemnly.

Damian did not see Ymir's face turn bright red or her small, giddy smile. Eavesdropping on those lusty village lasses secretly plotting to ensnare their men of choice, proved to be incredibly useful.

Chapter Text

The surface of the Womb was calm and rippleless, a spotless mirror unbothered by the world around it. Which was strange when considering that the water was in constant motion, slowly flowing up north into a prominent river. This river, if I recall correctly, cut through the Ifequevron forest and emptied into the Shivering Sea. I made a mental note to ‘ask’ my prisoners about the river's name and about the surrounding lands. The importance of knowing the terrain and basic geography could not be understated- especially since I was planning to rule over it.

Ymir stayed behind while I crafted a slab of ultra-light stone. Hard enough to withstand my weight, yet light enough to not sink. It wasn't a raft but it would do for now.

I carefully stepped onto the slab and pushed away from the bank with a stick. Ymir stood on the bank, ready for anything. Her psychic presence in my head was a constant comfort against the magical pull of the strange lake.

I felt the Red shift uncomfortably the closer I grew to the centre. The Blue on the other hand leapt with joy, as if it was a parched, nearly dehydrated man who had just glimpsed an actual oasis in the middle of the desert. This extreme response really caught me off guard, though I probably should've expected something like this. 

Hm. I kept a close eye on the mostly still water, wary of any lurking magical monsters that might want to gobble me up. A quick scan with my titan powers revealed no overt or covert threat in the lake- none that the worm couldn't help me deal with at least. That was reassuring… mostly.

So why was my magic reacting this way? 

I had my suspicions, of course. The few spells I had casted on my own, required a certain amount and type of ‘Colour’. Blue was not the Colour to use if I wanted a fireball, similarly Red wasn't a peaceful or passive Colour- attempting to use it to read minds would end in an uncontrollable disaster for the target as well as the caster. At least, that was what I had felt when I used them.

I could grasp the barebone basics of what principles these Colours were operating on. Red was clearly Fire, Destruction, Aggression. I hadn't failed to notice how eager it seemed whenever I got angry or passionate and how it created a worrisome feedback loop by fanning the flames of my rage and then feeding off of it to create more kindling. This was very alarming. It made me doubt my own emotions, were they mine or being manipulated by a power I did not fully understand?

The Blue on the other hand, was calm, controlled, organised. It was water. 

I breathed in deeply and closed my eyes. If I had learned anything about magic in the 24 hours since I've had it, was that it was an emotionally sensitive power. Strong emotions and intent shaped the structure and effects of a spell. This was also true when it came down to commanding the Colours themselves. The right mindset was key.

I calmed any lingering anxiety and stubbornly ignored any fear. I let the tension bleed away from my shoulders. An odd, but not unwelcome, peacefulness enveloped me. I reached out for the Blue, which I could sense lay somewhere within me. Somewhere deep inside. 

Searching for my magic was such an odd metaphysical experience that I doubt that I could put it into words at the moment. Perhaps I would one day, if I became a powerful sorcerer who knew the ins and outs of magic.

For now, all I did was keep my titan powers at the ready, and let the Blue reach out to the lake under my careful oversight.

The thin rope of Blue fell into the lake and kept falling. If it was the Damian of yesterday, he would've been concerned about running out of magical juice and losing his life-force or something. I was not the Damian of yesterday. The complicated scrying trap I had set up when I had first transformed, had supplied me with enough magical juice to extend this rope for several metres and still have enough magic to cast a few powerful spells. Who knew that sucking nosey magicals dry would be so profitable. Many had just perished, and the only ones still stuck in the trap were entities that had more magical power than any human warlock. 

Unfortunately, none of that pure magical power was endless, and while I had noticed that ‘drops’ of magic could spawn more drops, it was clearly a slow going process. Magic was consumed quicker than it could be restored. What a bother. If only I could find a way to speed up the damn process.

I was drawn out of my musings by a noticeable tug on the rope. It had reached far deeper than I had expected it to and had established first contact with whatever was calling for it.

Threads and tentacles of Blue magic that were not mine, swam around my probe and poked at it excitedly like an old dog seeing another dog for the first time in his life. My own attempts to poke back were met with much enthusiasm as if the older dog was happy that the younger pup was coming out of his shell. It held my probe in a firm grip and dragged it deeper into the inky darkness that seemed to have no visible end. Apparently, it wanted to show me around its home.

The further down it dragged the rope, the more magic was consumed, to my dismay. We hadn't even crossed that one mile marker and from the looks of it, still had a long way to go. I had massively, deeply , miscalculated. Damian, you dumbass. 

I let the worm provide the energy for the Blue probe to use and cut off access to the stolen magic reserves. No, I wasn't embarrassed… alright, maybe a little. The worm gave out the approximation of a chuckle and psychically reminded me to horde and conserve my magical battery. In a world like this, where magical energy was scarce and a rare find, my reserves were a precious treasure. Holding it back for a time where I absolutely needed pure magical energy was a better idea. 

The probe sunk deeper, a mile became two and two became four. My titan senses told me it had been only two hours since I had let the probe sink. Holy crap, when would this journey end?

I could sense strange creatures moving about, while others watched from afar, unwilling to come any closer. Each of them glowed with a faint inner light- a light blue one that flickered in and out of sight.

Seeing through my titan senses, I could tell that we had entered a large reservoir of some sort. An extremely large cavern filled to the brim with water that had no visible bottom. The pressure here was obscene and overwhelming. Keeping my cool here was the hardest mental battle I had ever fought in my life. At the end of this, I wouldn't be surprised if my nightmares featured thalassophobia or megalophobia in some shape or form.

It was near the entrance of the reservoir that the dark Blue magical tentacle stopped. 

And then it let me see.

Flashes of where we currently were sped past my vision. The Older Blue was the water itself, older than the oldest civilisations of the Overworld. It was connected to this Land- was the Land itself. It knew every creature that dwelt in its deep domain, and what lay deeper still- where none would dare go. It welcomed my presence, which I thanked it for.

This reservoir was absolutely massive . It housed species of fish and other creatures that never saw the light of day. It had also provided water for the Overworld for the past 20,000 years without running out. That was a long fucking time. It also made me wonder what other mind-blowing secrets this strange new world hid in plain sight.

The worm was unimpressed, of course, it was nothing it hadn't experienced throughout its time on the last world. Being old and eldritch did have its advantages, I guess.

When asked why it had brought me here, the Old Blue replied that it was simply curious to see one that had the same Colour and Song as it despite not being part of the greater whole, thus the call to meet. 

It also offered to let me join this little world away from the troubles of men. I politely declined. It argued that I could gain all the knowledge and power that I wanted right here. No sorcerer had ever come as far as I had, nor would they. I was special, it insisted. When I declined once more, the Old Blue was shocked that I would not agree to join the greater whole despite being Blue myself, but did not press the matter. Or so I thought.

The more we conversed in the odd metaphysical pseudo-language, the stranger I felt. There was an itch at the edge of my mind, as if something was under my eyelid. The itch grew… itchier and I felt a presence try and subtly wriggle its way into my magic through the probe. 

Something was wrong and that was an understatement. I remembered the fist-sized sapphire that had tried a similar trick and instantly recoiled. 

The Old Blue burned an angry dark blue once it realised that the jig was up. 

An immense magical pressure built up and tried to pull my own Blue into itself. Any normal sorcerer would be helpless here, if they even had the magical power to reach so deep. Most would've despaired and frozen the moment they were faced with such pressure. 

I was not them and I was certainly not bowing out to some leech that wanted to assimilate me into its hive. The worm nodded in approval.

A bright Blue tinted ball of psychic energy struck back against the aggressor. Magic met magic and I was so pissed off that the second I saw an opening, I wrapped the vicious tentacles of my magic around the Old Blue. 

A heat that I had felt only three times in my life, bloomed once more. Like a gaping void that sought to swallow all whole, it hungered for more- something to take, something to conquer, something to make mine.

I drew the Old Blue’s power into me.

There was a metaphysical click , like some door had been opened or some missing piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. I felt the lives of creatures that had previously evaded my notice. I felt the water as it churned and bubbled against air pockets.

I felt connected . Connected to a world yet unseen by the eyes of men- a world of water.

After a moment or two, I decided to disperse the probe and pull my mind back to the surface. 

With a gasp I opened my eyes, finding myself back on the slab, though truthfully, I had never left it.

I wiped my face clean of sweat and grimaced when I looked down at my sweat-drenched shirt. I turned my head and waved to Ymir, she waved back. Heh.

Paddling back was unneeded, the lake, now connected to me, churned to push my slab back to the bank. Well, this was convenient. The things that I could do with total control over a naturally occurring body of water…

And that wasn't the only benefit I had received by linking up with the deep earth reservoir. My control over the Blue had improved by leaps and bounds. The constant flashes of Red had mellowed out.

More importantly, I felt powerful . Strong. Blue magical energy that had once seemed so scarce was now abundant. 

Huh. I looked up at the Mother of Mountains, wondering if I could gain a similar boost for my Red magic. There was clearly a link between certain landmarks or terrain features and magical Colours and while I didn't completely comprehend what that link was- being new to conceptual bullshit and all- I'd be a fool to deny myself a power-up. 

Ymir looked up at me questioningly, I shook my head and we began walking back to the city. 

The city needed me, and there was plenty of time to pursue the magic of Aggression and Passion after my fledgling kingdom was running smoothly. 

Chapter Text

Building a city was by no means an easy task.

I, for one, had no prior engineering know-how or any degree in architectural design/aesthetics. Ymir's knowledge ended at digging ditches with other slaves for wooden palisades, erecting picket fences with commonly found sticks, and pitching tents in the wilderness. She knew the basics of building a hut for a small family to live in but was completely at a loss about how to build a longhouse.

Marius was a merchant and Farwan was a vagrant who knew how to fight, survive in the wilderness and maybe scale small mountains. Most of the men I had saved were either farmers, shepards, guards, pit-fighters or merchants. The women were mid-wives or pleasure slaves- so no luck there either.

Of course, I asked the Worm if it knew how to build cities and was met with the human equivalent of a shrug. It knew which materials would be suitable for longer lasting buildings but knew nothing about aesthetics. Apparently, its people did not live in buildings but caravans and loose communes. They were also not aesthetically inclined, so there wasn't much the Worm could tell me about building city stuff. It did, however, offer to scan the memories and skills of the architects in this world and then use that knowledge to aid me in the nitty gritty.

That… was a good idea- mostly. You see, while the architects on Planetos were pretty metal and talented, their views on structural establishment were limited by the medieval knowledge they had. They were used to working with well-known materials such as stone bricks, mud, marble, granite and the like. Thus, the architecture constructed by them reflected their experience and human limitations. There were also labour and financial limitations so most never dreamt of anything too grand, and so their imagination was throttled.

On the other hand, I had no such limits. I could summon or craft as many permanent materials as I wished. I could mold the city as I wanted, but while I could do all that, design aesthetics were where I took the greatest "L".

And so recognising my artistic limitations, I let the Worm scan their minds anyways. Who knows, maybe if I took a good look through some of them, I might be able to bridge that gap and make something that wasn't a bland wall.

I delved back into the Paths for two reasons- one, I could parse through the memories far quicker here than in the real world, and two- I could command the sand into structures with my imagination and then send them down into the city itself with quantum transference. Ymir watched the glowing tree with awe and wandered around playing with sand while I worked.

After combing through images of palaces from Oldtown to Asshai, beautiful carved and painted wall designs, pools, fountains, and graceful pillars and arches, I had a rough idea of how fancy I wanted the city to be- not overwhelmingly fancy but fancy enough to not be a boring, rock and stone medieval fort.

Once I had that down, I thought about how to implement my newly acquired knowledge. The city had to have walls- layers of them. We were mostly invincible in this world but everyone else was not. And while the wall I had already built would do temporarily, there were no defenses for well-aimed trebuchets and ballista bolts. The greatest defense would be to make the last wall thicker and obscenely tall. Tall enough for the citizens inside to not worry about flying rocks and giant arrows.

The wall also had to be smoother than polished glass so as to not fall to expert climbers- I had that part down already. All that was left was adjusting the elevation leading up to the circular wall and building a deep moat surrounding it, filled with water from the river- which I learned was named "Qoy" by the horselords.

"Qoy" means "Blood" in the Dothraki tongue. Wow, the savages were really obsessed with female reproductive organs weren't they? Mother of Mountains, Womb of the World, the Blood river that flows out of the Womb. I guess it made sense in a pseudo-matriarchal society like theirs. Though I had to admit, a river named "Blood" went really hard. Hm, I might even keep it, but only after abandoning the Dothraki name for it. This city had no place for the Dothraki culture or their language.

I walked around the miniature 2 m wide model of the city I had made after much trial and error. I nodded in appreciation.

The city was protected by circular, three-layered walls with ditches in between. Yes, I had just ripped off the Theodosian walls of Constantinople and the overall design of ancient Baghdad as I remembered it, while borrowing a decent bit from Ba Sing Se. This city, however, would have none of their weaknesses.

The first wall was 50 m high, the next 100, and the last was 150 m tall and 10 m thick (60 m taller than that of Harrenhal's). It originated from the steep mountain slope and guarded an area of 3 km (in diameter). This would allow the city to occupy an area greater than the original Vaes Dothrak. I had plans to expand it further as needed, but this should do for now. The river was cut off where the largest wall started and a gated mechanism made of the same seamless crystal stone as the walls, would allow us to control the flow of outgoing water.

Some of the water would be diverted through the city via two major canals and supply enough filtered water for public and private bathhouses, fountains, recreation and industry. Sanitation needs would also be met by the river, clean water would be pumped into homes through a network of long-lasting pipes laid under the city, foul water would be pumped into a filtration unit before being pumped out back into the river. The river would also help defend it- funneled properly, a pressurised stream of water could sever flesh and shatter bone. The remaining water would fill the ringed moats making any siege a nightmare. I laughed, as if it wasn't one already.

I found it ironic to face the arriving Dothraki hordes from atop walls modeled after two Earth cities that either fell to the Mongol empire or paid them tribute. Unfortunately for the Dothraki, there were no farmlands outside the wall to burn and the river did not flow into the city. So even if the Khals had enough brain cells to figure out how to block, poison, or divert a river- it wouldn't help their chances any.

After providing the ground with the appropriate slope, I moved on to designing the districts.

The city was divided into equal quadrants, with the lake almost at the centre, the two canals would cross the city diagonally, and four major paved roads led out in four cardinal directions (approximately)- the Qarth Road (South) would go all the way down to Qarth, the Ibben Road (North) was self-explanatory, as was the Qohor Road (West). Whereas the Bone Road would simply be the smoother, paved version of the road already being used to trade with the Far East through Kayakayanaya.

Unfortunately, or should I say fortunately, my capital had no seaport through which it could dominate the high seas. This also meant that the city wouldn't be attacked from the sea- it was only the land and the air that I needed to secure. Me and Ymir could take any dragons or wyverns down easily enough but it was better to arm the city in case we were away.

In the model, several sleek, high pressure, long-range, water cannons appeared. I made a note to use my bio-constructs to train the operators to aim at the face/eyes, wing membranes and joints. They were joined by cannons which threw canisters that would explode into a temporary blindness gas once they reach a sufficiently massive and warm biological organism- such as flying men or dragons or flying men on dragons.

There was, of course, the possibility that the blind flying creature would crash land in the capital and hurt the citizens. That could not be allowed to happen. With the Worm's help, I created a special, rapidly-expanding, quantum foam that would wrap around the target. Whether it be dragon or wildfire pot, the foam would dissipate most of the mass, force and energy inside it. The foamed object would have negligible mass and energy, so getting hit by the falling foam lump wouldn't hurt a newborn infant, much less a grown adult. The same cannon would fire the foam missile soon after.

How 4D quantum fuckery wasn't straight up magic, I did not understand.

Ymir, who was observing me as I worked for the past 15 minutes, hesitantly suggested that I could place dormant, 40 m tall, mindless titan constructs into the 50 m tall outer wall. That way if the enemy ever manages to breach the first wall, the titans would awaken and trample the army ahead. Even if they didn't breach the wall, we could awaken them and use them anyway.

I blinked away the terrifying image and slowly nodded. Yeah… Why didn't I think of that? Ymir was right. We had bloody titans at our command!

"That's a very nice idea, Ymir!" I patted her on the back. She shyly mumbled a "thank you" and ran back to whatever she was doing. I shook my head and turned back to the city model.

Huh. Titans in the outer wall. The image of Ba Sing Se's wall did not leave my mind. A wall big enough to encompass an entire kingdom with large farmlands and rivers flowing inside. A completely separate wall to mark and protect our territory.

I presented the Worm with an idea and asked it about its viability and energy costs.

We concluded that it was a good idea and while grand for me, it was easy enough to accomplish with a relatively small exertion of its energy. However, the Worm suggested that I should wait before implementing it. While it had hidden this world from probing interstellar eyes, it wanted to be sure that there was nothing in the galactic quadrant that could threaten us. It was entirely possible that some entity could notice a sudden energy spike of that magnitude and become curious.

I agreed and went back to implementing 300 mindless titans into the outer wall. Once done I gave a few finishing touches to the aesthetically pleasing, palace fortress embedded into the base of the mountain. And yes, I used the Paths to make sure nothing eldritch was living inside the mountain. Well… nothing that would threaten us or our city.

The Red was stronger above a 1000 feet, so any lower was safe to live. I really needed to get a tight control over that nexus or leyline- whatever the proper word was.

The palace came along nicely with its marble arches, large but cozy bedrooms, fountains and pools. Hanging gardens were something I wanted to try and Ymir suggested a few gazebos in the palace gardens for us and our guests to relax in. She insisted that she didn't need a room of her own and that sleeping together was much safer. I didn't buy those reasons for a moment but relented and just moved on to designing the halls and balconies.

It took me an hour until I was satisfied with the city and the Imperial palace overlooking the lake. After sending the model over to the Worm for storage, I dusted my hands.

I turned around to see what Ymir was doing and saw her sledding down a huge mountain of sand that I could swear did not exist a few hours ago. What the…

I could see the joy in her eyes and as she rushed down and thumped into a sand dune. She stumbled out with a giggle and shook off the sand in her blonde hair like an upright golden retriever.

As if sensing my shocked gaze, her smile disappeared and she looked worried. I smiled and shook my head, silently assuring her that I wasn't mad at her. Who was I to deny her the joys of sledding? Her shoulders relaxed.

I appeared above the sand mountain and with a thought, a sled appeared in my hands. Her eyes lit up like stars when I waved her over.

"First one down wins!" I grinned and set off. I heard a huff behind me and the sound of another sled sliding away.

Ymir won, but only by cheating and making my side of the path bumpy. Crafty little wench.

We spent much of our time in the Paths carefree and playing games.

Sitting on a throne alongside Ymir at a round table, I revealed the model- now much larger and colourful- to my subordinates. They were impressed- blown away, more like. I told them that this model wasn't simply a toy, it would become reality. At first they thought that this was my vision for an eventual capital.

They had suddenly forgotten how I had raised a whole wall in an instant. When I told them that I could summon it like I did for the wall, they were more than just blown away.

So when I commanded them to gather everyone up on the designated hovering platform so that the buildings suddenly appearing didn't crush them, they rushed to carry it out.

There was a flash of blue lightning and a large puff of steam. Those above the giant platform were unharmed and when they descended the stone stairs, what they saw, whether they be Dothraki prisoner or Freedman, would remain with them for their whole life. They would tell their children and grandchildren born within this city of the day the Emperor and Empress brought forth a grand city from thin air. The children would be just as awed, but they would never truly experience the first joys of drinking clean water, good food, and a home to call their own. But if you ever asked them if they'd have it any other way- they'd scoff and say, "Never!".

Chapter Text

In a large, naturally lit hall whose ceiling could only be glimpsed if one strained their neck, hundreds of excited people were gathered. If the high, tiered dias and the two thrones atop it- one higher backed than the other- were any indication, then this was a throne room.

Tall, thick marble pillars towered over the audience. If one looked closely, they would be shocked by the unique details masterfully etched into each pillar. One pillar, for instance, had an etching of a naked giant man eating an armoured warrior and his horse while his fellow giants trampled a fleeing army to paste. Not every carving was as fearsome and grotesque, a few contained scenes of pleasure, peace and glorious triumph over unnamed enemies. Others showcased flying, robed mages hurling crackling bolts of energy down on their enemies.

The thrones presiding over the hall were wondrous and strange fixtures. They were well-crafted and regal, giving out a sense of oppression to all who looked upon them. Yet the materials they were made of were not something anyone in the hall had ever seen before.

Each was made out of a crystalline substance. The higher one was made of black, grey, and dark purple crystals, while the other was made of pure white and dark blue crystals. The crystals in the thrones played tricks on the eyes and mind, appearing as if they were twisting in on themselves or perhaps unfurling outwards. Focusing too much on these crystals and their subtle fractal dance made the observer feel a bit dizzy.

However, few in the audience cared to obsess over the odd hypnotic nature of the thrones. No, instead they were here to see two people and listen to what they had to say. Their desire to gaze upon the glory of their liberators was incredibly intense, so much so that their excitement was almost palpable.

The man standing before the black throne, wore black pants and a tunic that was embroidered with silver and gold threads. Black leather straps with silver buckles lined the chest of his tunic. Ornate steel pauldrons were molded to his shoulders in a way that complemented the colour of his attire and while still providing the necessary protection. A dark cape flowed off his back and stopped at his ankles, a rich purple could be seen on its underside. He was a tall man but not overly so. Dark haired and grey of eye, he was comely and clean shaven.

He was by no means unremarkable, however. His eyes scanned the crowd with a sharpness and alertness that belied his young age. Any eye that met his shied away and as if wary of the strange unseen energy that clung to him, the same energy that kept the crowd from any disorderly conduct.

The woman at his side was similarly formally dressed. She wore a long, white and silver silk gown that nearly pooled at her sandled feet. A silver half-cape was draped over her shoulders and a delicate silver and gold crown sat upon a head of light blonde hair. While small of stature when compared to her male counterpart, her presence could not be ignored. Her elegance and beauty, from the looks of it, had the audience enamoured. Her eyes were a striking match for the man standing beside her, and if it were not for the opposing colouring of their hair, some might consider them siblings or cousins. Many in the audience did suspect such a thing, though they dared not voice it aloud or present their rulers with such a sensitive query.

"This is a historic moment," the young man began, his voice loud and echoing in the large hall. "The holy city of the horselords is no more," a loud cheer went up at that. The man raised his hand and silence fell once more, ears were being strained unnecessarily to hear what their ruler had to say.

"In its place has risen a city far greater and glorious than any in the world. A city where no man would be a slave to another nor would he oppress his fellow man. Where no woman, no matter how young or old, married or unmarried would need fear any molestation, even if she walked out naked into the streets at night. A city where no citizen would ever fear for their lives or property," as the man spoke, the excitement and reverence of the crowd grew. Several eyes burned with happy tears, hoping that they could reach out and touch this perfect dream and bring it down into the world. Luckily for them, they did not need to, because their leader had done exactly that for them- they just hadn't realised it.

"We promise this to you, O' people! In our city- in our Empire- you would be free. Free from hunger. Free from pain, suffering and persecution. Of blistering heat and biting cold. Of illness and plague. I, Damian Antares and my wife, Ymir," he took her hand in his, while with the other was balled into a fist that rose and fell passionately with his voice, as if hammering in his point, "promise you, that as your Emperor and Empress, we will build you a nation that would rise above any and all. A nation you, my people, could be proud to call your own. A nation that shall suffer no slavers to live or treaty with. A nation that will trample the old order under the feet of titans and usher in a new age for the world!"

The man smiled as the crowd was riled into a fervour, "So, my people, do you wish to be part of such a dream?"

The sound of their jubilant cheers and shouts of agreement rang like a roar through the Imperial Palace.

A grinning Emperor Damian raised his hand once more, "Very well. Then let this day be the Day of Founding. A day of celebration for all free peoples and a stern promise of freedom for people who are yet to be freed from their shackles, and know the glory of the Aetherian Empire. I dub this city "Othrys" the 'City of Titans'. A glorious and civilised capital for a glorious and civilised nation."

The Emperor raised a pitch black blade into the air and the three large purple flags rolled up on the wall behind unfurled. The banner of the newly formed Empire was unveiled.
On a rich purple field, a perfectly circular hollow golden sun blazed, bolts of jagged gold lightning shot outward from its rim.

The people looked up in awe. These were their colours now. Their empire's banner.

"My people, let us rise and work together to achieve our dream under this banner! One day we shall put the world to right! And if it defies us? We shall force peace down its throat! For Othrys! For Aetheria!"

The sword descended and a wave of blue and purple energy swept through the crowd.
The effects of the wave were immediately apparent. Every man, woman and child in the hall changed.

Their bodies filled with strength they had never before dreamt of. Their bones, muscles, tendons, nerves, and blood gained vitality to the point of being superhuman. Their complexion improved and their hair, dull and weak, grew strong and gained a healthy shine. Their minds felt as if they had been unchained for the first time, unshackling them from their previous fears and prejudices. The colour in their eyes grew brighter as if a great weight had been lifted and new hope had arrived.

And most of all was the connection. The link and bond between each other. The metaphysical and intangible feeling of their blood knowing its kin.

It was at this moment they knew that their blood was one and the same and not much different. It was the Blood of Aetheria.

I strode through the halls, Ymir by my side, and my five advisors trailing behind.

Giving a speech was fucking tiring. Dealing with a nation's everyday running even more so.

You know what was more tiring? Deciding on the name of things. But names were important, names had power.

Whether choosing the name of the mythological stronghold of Titans as the name for the capital will have any real consequences is yet to be seen. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Why did I say that, you ask? Because I was a firm believer of "Fuck Murphy and his fat milf momma" school of thought. Murphy and his soyboy believers could suck my asymmetric grapes.

The name of the empire was mostly because I wanted the empire to sound 'magical', y'know? Maybe Aether or Ether really was a thing and connected to the magic I had in some way. Could be. I didn't know for sure, however. If it was, then the name was just a nice little bonus if names truly did have some power in the world of magic.

Naming Magic was one of those things that I was really wary about. Wary and worried. I had only thought of the possibility of it existing this morning and it made me a bit paranoid.

Did names truly have any power? Did revealing my real name give anyone who knew of it any power over me? Obviously, I wasn't going to freak out and cry in a corner about a branch of magic that was probably just a thing in fiction. I had to test it out for myself. I had magic, didn't I?

To test if I could hold any special power over someone using their given name, I used a Dothraki woman's name. She was entirely honest about it and nearly pissing herself with fear and that really was her name.

Using it however, only allowed me to amplify the effects of a spell- in this case a hair growth spell. Poor girl was a bear below her waist by the time I was done. Reversing the spell was also smoother if the target's name was visualised or spoken along with the made-up spell. However, I noted that the name only helped the magic seek out the target I had thought of and whose face I had visualised.

To check if any name would work, I tried my best to think of another female name and tie it to her face in my mind and then cast the spell. The spell worked nearly as well. The effect was almost the same with little to no difference except for the amount of power and effort it required. Casting without a name or a false name required more mental effort and magical energy, the former was obvious and the latter was because I would need to provide power to guide the spell to the target the whole stretch of the way, while with knowing her real name, the spell would be pulled to the target like a steel pin to a magnet.

So names did matter but only to a certain extent. Energy and willpower, however, opened up more options than a name did.

For another test, I spoke out my full name in the Paths and felt out for it with my magic. Speaking my name did not cause my magic to react. I tried it in the real world as well, to no particular variance whatsoever.

Perhaps this was Fae Only magic? Or perhaps a name could only give "power" if some fae creature asked you for it. And it had to be you that said it, because if simply knowing a name worked then the creature could just eavesdrop on your mother telling you to clean your room.

It didn't really make sense that knowing anyone's given name would give you any greater than usual power over them. Sure, it might make magical targeting easier but other than that? Nah.

I did remind myself to keep an open mind. It could be that I didn't understand how Naming Magic actually worked or that I was going about it the wrong way. Maybe it was True Names that had power rather than given names. Like in Le Guin's Earthsea series or Rothfuss' Kingkiller Chronicles. Perhaps everything had a True Name, even people, and knowing it required more than just a few questions from the target.

The reason I was so worried about names was because I'd have to tell my people my name. I couldn't just rely on titles to carry me through Asoiaf. And so I was worried that my name being well-known would open me up to magical manipulation of the nasty kind.

Thankfully, avoiding name targeting of the kind that I knew could be employed was easy enough. Even the Worm- who I had named Nidhogg during my experiment to see if I was the second coming of Harry Dresden (I wasn't. It didn't make it grow wings or start gnawing on any roots or gain any new powers)- was able to counter name-based psychic targeting. Turns out, setting up a higher dimensional psychic lattice/web around a name could allow it to target anyone who spoke it. Especially if they spoke it with any malicious intent.

At times I think I have a handle over Nidhogg's brand of bullshit, only to be proven wrong.

Why am I even surprised that the interdimensional worm can do You-Know-Who name Taboos like it was nothing?

Ah, blast it! I was going on a tangent again.

Ultimately, I placed safeguards against name-targeting and changed my last name from Hunt to Antares just in case. Would that make any difference? Maybe, maybe not. Can't hurt to try. It also provided an extra layer of protection for my elder brother and sister back on Earth should any enemy I make during my adventures find their way back to my world of origin and look me up. It was a stretch, I know, but I was in Asoiaf and in an entirely different world before that, so I had more than enough reasons to suspend my disbelief.

There was no way I was going to change my first name out of blind fear- so I didn't.

The doors to the council room opened and we entered and took our places at the round table set in the centre of the room. The sizable balcony windows were open, letting in fresh air.

"Settle down," I said, taking my seat. Ymir sat down to my right.

I waited for them to sit down before broaching the first topic for the day, "Have the residences been allotted to the citizens?"

Marius, who was overseeing the various issues of the settlers, set down his glass of water and cleared his throat before answering, "Yes, Your Majesty, your will has been carried out to the letter. Each resident of Othrys has been allotted a home."

"Do you believe these allotted homes to be sufficient for their current needs?" I asked. I had created two residential zones- one in the north-west, the other in the south-east, while a major part of the quarter in the south-west was set aside for farming.

Marius frowned and nodded easily. "Of course, my Emperor, it will be more than enough. Most do not have any families or children, the houses Your Majesty provided are more than what anyone could dream of."

"That is true for now, Marius, but what of the future?" I asked. "Will those homes be enough to support a family should they have one in the coming years?"

"I do believe so, Your Majesty," Marius replied. "They should last a generation at the very least."

I nodded, "Very well." I turned my gaze to the Minister of Agriculture. "Minister, what has become of the seeds I had ordered to be planted in the Green Quarter? How many have been planted?"

The Minister of Agriculture, Voreon of Myr, was a thin, middle-aged man with a rough demeanour, though he showed not a hint of it whenever I interacted with him. His admiration and loyalty was clear to see. He also knew more than a little about farming, which was to say, more than anyone else among the freemen. Back in Myr, the man had his own farm and ran it like his father before him. He had kept slaves to till and harvest the land, which wasn't something I appreciated, but living as a slave for half a year had certainly given Voreon perspective.

Voreon nodded enthusiastically, "Your Imperial Majesty, I have done as you have commanded and all within a day too!" The other Ministers had gotten so accustomed to the strange impossibilities in this city, that a field several miles long being tilled in a day didn't surprise them at all.

"The strange plow worked wonders, Your Majesty, it planted seeds faster than any hand," Voreon gushed. "And the beast-" He suddenly looked a bit worried. A touch against his mind told me that the man was afraid that I'd take offense to my summoned beasts being called beasts.

"Have no fear, Minister," I waved his worries away. "Calling them what they are wouldn't offend me in the slightest. They are constructs in the form of beasts, so you would not be off the mark."

Voreon sighed quietly, smiled and bowed. "Of course, Your Majesty. The beasts were incredible! They pulled the plow faster than any beast I've ever seen and didn't lose their breath or their strength."

"That is to be expected, Voreon," I replied. "The constructs have a fragment of the Power of Titans in their flesh. They need no rest while they work. However, let them rest through the night, that is when they recuperate their strength." Voreon nodded vigorously, believing my reasoning.

I hummed, "What about the men who volunteered to be farmhands? Have you assigned them the appropriate tasks? Idle hands are the devil's tools after all."

"I have, Your Majesty. They have been given a variety of tasks, some of moving the seed crates and feeding the right number of seeds into the seeder, others of managing the water supply or killing any troublesome vermin that they see. The braver ones, I've assigned to the beasts themselves," the others chuckled and I smiled. "They attach the seeder, guide the beasts to the next row and take the tool off of them when the patch is done."

"And have you informed them of their pay?" This was important. The Aetherian Empire had to be fundamentally different from its neighbours. It had no serfs or slaves and so any working citizen had to be paid accordingly. Most importantly, I wanted the Empire to be generous as that would bring an influx of people seeking better opportunities and a higher standard of living.

Was I afraid of spies from other nations and bad actors? Hell no.

As of today, Aetherians had a distinct genetic and psychic signature. Their blood and muscles were also different- stronger and healthier with a robust immune system. They were also bound to the Power of Titans. I could go through an impossibly detailed genetic and biological registry of my people right now and change things. I could peek into their thoughts and emotions if I focused hard enough. I could implant suggestions and fuck with their neurochemistry. Yes, this was insane and unethical by most human moral standards, but if this helped me govern my empire with a firm hand then I could hardly give a shit.

This also meant that any outsiders would stick out like a sore thumb among Aetherians, making it easy for me to surveil their every move and prune any 'weeds' should they try to take root.

"I have done as commanded, Your Majesty," Voreon bowed his head. "They were delighted to know that their Emperor and Empress care so much about their needs and wants. I have ordered the men under my command to distribute the rations equally. I have personally overseen the first distribution and heard no complaints from the workers."

"They were satisfied with the food then?"

Voreon's head nearly popped off with all that ferocious nodding, "Most certainly, Your Majesty! They were overjoyed! These people have only known hunger and despair for all or most of their lives. To be given something other than hard bread and grain slop is more than what they expected."

Ah, yes. I did expect them to be pleasantly surprised by the clean and shiny fruits, vegetables and fresh meat that I secretly made in bulk with matter manipulation. All citizens, in fact, would receive a set of daily rations whether they worked or not, the workers would naturally receive more. This would continue until the fields planted with bioengineered seeds bore a fruitful crop and the dairy and meat industry took off. After that, it was only a matter of time before a farmer's market sprung up and the newly minted coins sitting in my palace coffers circulated.

"That is good to hear, Voreon, keep me informed of any difficulties or problems your department faces." Voreon bowed his head.

"Minister Lyra," I spoke to the Volantene woman placed in charge of education. "I've healed all Aetherians, that includes any with missing limbs, deformities, scars or trauma. You'll also find that the bloody act of birth will be far less painful for Aetherian women. Their bodies are robust enough to survive childbirth easily." Lyra nodded along, though I could see she was trying to hide her shock.

"Your duty will not only be to oversee the education of the masses on worldly subjects but also to help them understand the glory and power of their blood and flesh. They are different from any other race of men, they heal faster and live longer. It is your responsibility to make them understand the new limits of their bodies. Make them proud of their identity and simultaneously curb their arrogance." Lyra kept jotting down notes on the ringed notepad I had provided my Ministers. I slid a booklet to her, one detailing the barebones basics of Aetherian biology. Any deeper exploration would have to wait. It was best to keep the true secrets of Aetherian blood out of common hands. For now. She picked the book up and slowly flipped through it.

"Make them understand, Lyra," I made sure to stress this point. "That Aetheria is better than the rest of the world in every way, shape or form. The people of the world outside are misguided and barbarous and need to be brought to the light of the Empire. Aetherians have a duty to their rulers to advance, innovate, breed and spread their glory across the world. Remind them that the world will resist our advances, but we must be patient with misguided, small-minded peoples. They shall understand soon enough that it is better to live under the light and protection of Aetheria than to continue down a ruinous path," I finished.

Yay! Imperial fascism! Ultranationalism go weee!

Lyra noted my words down furiously as I spoke, looked me in the eye and nodded. As an educated woman, she understood. She knew what I wanted her to do. She had seen similar sentiments in Volantis when her father was still alive. Only this time those sentiments were being applied to an entire nation instead of the ruling families. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest, and her thoughts went to the past glories of another empire- Valyria. She wondered if this was how it all started.

She was wrong. Valyria was hardly Aetheria. It wasn't founded on principles of freedom or the desire to bring world peace through short-term war. Valyria was founded on the excess of a few with no regard to the benefit of all.

"You have doubts, I can see," I smiled genially.

Lyra's eyes widened and she shook her head rapidly. "No, my Emperor. This one has no doubts about your masterful vision-"

"Speak," I interrupted her. "Speak your mind. I am listening."

Lyra gathered up her courage and did so. "My Emperor, if we encourage our racial supremacy, would this not ultimately lead to sentiments of disdain for 'others' and 'outsiders'?"

"Nay, Minister," I honestly didn't expect that Shakespearean 'nay' to come out of my mouth. "Any who are conquered will be turned into Aetherians. They shall leave their weakness and barbarism behind and join our cause, worry not. As for those who we do not turn into Aetherians? Well, those shall slowly die out. Aetheria and its children will outlast them. Our men are better, our women are better, our society is better. Who would mate with a common man when they can mate with an Aetherian and live in our empire?" I smirked seeing the dawning realisation around the table.

Lyra bowed her head, her eyes shone with admiration. "I understand Lord Emperor. Your will shall be done!"

"Wonderful! That's what I like to hear, Minister." I touched the minds around the table and was relieved to find no opposition to literal fascism. Probably because it wasn't a term in this wretched world. When everyone was miserable everywhere, a little kindness, freedom, good food and roof, and an upgrade to near superhumanity would make ultranationlism easy to accept.

"Farwan," Farwan perked up with smile. "Galmar here," a large, well-built man bowed, "will take up the position of Minister of Defence and First General of the Imperial Army."

Farwan bowed, I could see that he felt that perhaps he had done something to anger or disappoint me. This was not the case. I wanted Farwan for a more sensitive role.

I told him as much and assured the Neferi that he hadn't lost Imperial favour.

"Farwan of Nefer, you are hereby appointed as the Minister of Imperial Intelligence. The details of your duties will be provided to you. You may employ under you whoever you deem best and are charged with the safety of the Empire against threats internal and external." Farwan looked shocked but quickly collected himself and bowed as low as he could while sitting.

"I- I thank you, Your Majesty, for this," his voice choked up and he had to cough a little. "For this honour." He looked up with a ferocity that would make most people extremely uncomfortable. "I will do my best to protect this nation. Even if it requires my life to do so."

I smiled, "I am heartened by your declaration, Farwan but I believe you shall better serve this nation living than not."

I slapped the armrests of my throne, "If anyone wishes to bring something to my notice, do so." There was nothing but an awkward silence where everyone was just looking at each other.

I hid my grin. "Very well then. Let us reconvene tomorrow. General Galmar and Minister Farwan, stay behind, the rest of you may leave."

The chairs emptied and the room now had only four people in it. I walked up to Galmar and Farwan, while Ymir sat.

"Your positions, gentlemen, require much more than mortal power. Your departments will be the instruments of war and the keepers of Aetheria's peace in its conquered territories. And so…" they knelt. "We shall impart gifts unto you. Gifts unlike any the world has ever seen. You shall be warriors of unequalled might and your prowess will make the enemy shit themselves." The men trembled as a warmth filled their bodies.

"Rise, sons of Aetheria. Make us proud." A golden light flashed through their eyes.

Chapter Text

Cold, sharp winds whipped around the rocky, snow-capped peak of the mountain- now renamed Mount Othrys after the new city that had appeared in its shadow.

The Red of the mountain roared and scarlet lightning flashed overhead, leaving faint spots at the edge of my vision. The rocks beneath our feet vibrated as the mountain's roots faintly trembled.

The capital and the Imperial Palace proved their worth as the people never felt any of the vibrations nor did any structural damage occur. Supernatural engineering FTW, am I right?

I could sense Ymir behind me, patiently waiting at a safe distance- not that anything in these parts could harm her. Despite my assurances that it was fine and that she didn't need to come, Ymir came along anyways. Thankfully, it wasn't as tough to bend the magical nexus to my will, it wasn't as sapient as the Blue had been.

I dug my heels in as a wave of remnant magical energy swept over the mountain top. The Red soon calmed and gave up on any resistance. Unlike Blue, the Red mana 'door' opened inside me with a muffled boom. Its heat settled but still faintly sizzled at the edges of my thought. Passion, Want, Power, and more, it whispered, like a languid succubus eagerly spreading her dripping folds in invitation.

This fiery lure of magical power was terrifying. I knew… I knew that I would've dived headfirst into it with token resistance, perhaps not even that. I would've embraced the madness of the flames and let it consume me. It was just that entrancing.

The only reason I wasn't a raving mad warlock was because not only did I have Nidhogg's mental defenses against external intrusions but also because I had chosen to conquer the very antithesis of Red beforehand.

Where Red was passion and emotion, Blue was calm and cold logic. Both were terrible in their extremes when you thought about it for a while and merging them to 'get the best of both worlds' was also a terrible idea, as I soon found out.

The moment I tried to mix a speck of Red with Blue to see if they were stronger together, the controlled dab of energy turned into a bright, squiggly, and pulsing Purple.

I gasped at the spike of arousal and the warm, heady wave of lust. It nearly caused me to topple over. My heart thundered in my chest and my breath came in short gasps as I tried to swiftly regain control over my magic. I waved away a worried Ymir since a living female within reach was the last thing I needed right now.

I carefully unraveled the speck of Purple and heaved a sigh of relief as the pounding ache in my abdomen receded. The ache in my balls and the pain caused by a restrained erection remained only for a moment before the enhanced healing factor went to work. Did I ever mention how much I liked shape-shifting? No matter, I shall do that once more- I loved it. I could deflate embarrassing erections much faster now and on-command too! What's not to love about that?

Fucking hell! I cursed internally. Why the fuck did that Colour react like…

The Rhoynish magic amethyst flashed through my mind.

Oh, right. Red plus Blue- basic colour mixing. I let out a mirthless chuckle. Who knew being a wizard required some common sense? And here I thought I could point and pew pew my way to victory. Hmm… I could test out Harry Potter spells to see if they could work with what I had-

No! Enough tests, Damian! No experimenting until you get a reasonable and solid command over these two 'Colours' of magic.

I took in a deep breath, clenching and unclenching my fists, slowly allowing myself to get acquainted with the weight of the immense pool of magic that was tethered tightly to my soul. It was not easy to describe, but it was like having a new limb with its own weight, one that I could not see yet still feel, control and move. It was entirely alien and entirely mine. I guess this was my life now- new metaphysical 'limbs', new powers, and constantly communicating with unseen forces that I felt out of my depth with, more often than not. I hated that feeling more than anything.

But bitching about it wouldn't change anything. The pursuit of power was not without its hurdles. I could either continue running or give up the race and remain satisfied with whatever I had. I was a greedy, paranoid man so the latter was never an option. I would continue running.

As the weight became easier to bear and the pulsing power settled to a faint buzz, I turned around and walked back to Ymir. Her expression was one of concern. I cringed internally. What was I supposed to say? That I accidentally made a horny Colour and my John Johnson got rock hard?

"I'm alright," was what came out. My words didn't exactly reassure her, I could see, but without peering into my mind, all she could do was take my word for it. She proved me wrong by nodding with a downcast expression that saddled me with guilt.

How does one win against that?

Turns out, you don't. However, if there was one thing that my meagre experience with girls had taught me- was that women were complex yet incredibly simple creatures. They could be distracted if needed.

And that's what I did. I grew large, grey wings, picked Ymir up in my arms and flew down the mountain at an exhilarating speed. The gremlin only shrieked once and then giggled all the way. It was good to know that at least one of us wasn't afraid of heights.

Whatever remained of my fears, I sought to burn away with stunts like this. Such fears were the concern of lesser men, and I had set myself on the path to something more.

Khal Pono could not believe his eyes.

It was an impossibility. What other explanation could there be?

If he had not seen the other Khals whisper fearfully to themselves while pointing at the giant, impossible, seamless walls- Pono would've thought that he'd gone mad or some sickness had seized his senses and turned them against him.

Pono thought of Sarnath's walls. Even in their crumbling state, he could at least admire the skill of the lanky cowards.

Yet these walls surpassed them in every way.

He had seen Volantis' outer wall too and while he would never admit it openly for fear of being thought a craven, he knew that if it came to a siege, those walls would be a nightmare to overcome.

Yet these… the walls of Volantis were bawling children before these. What manner of sorcery could make such monstrous fortifications? He could see the Mother of Mountains looming behind the walls so he knew they hadn't lost their way. This wasn't a newly discovered city, it was Vaes Dothrak but… why? How and when? Who on this earth could make walls like these? They had only been away for a year, perhaps not even that.

To get a better look, he came closer to the walls and his eyes fell upon a sight that made his blood boil. The other Khals swore too, while some of the more feeble-hearted womenfolk fell to their knees, weeping.

Where once on black-veined, marble pillars sat the twin symbols of their people, now sat large pitch black fire pits embossed with gold. In these infernal pits burned a bright golden flame whose light could not be dulled by the morning sun. 'An unnatural flame,' He thought grimly. There was no hint of orange, red or blue in it.

His jaw creaked when his eyes fell on the broken bronze pieces lying at the base of the pillars. Cracked and shattered as they were, they did not resemble what he had left behind.

To defile the image of the stallions that marked their holy city like so was a terrible insult!

The son of his uncle, and one his Bloodriders, Akho looked to him for guidance. Pono could smell his fear and that of his people. They were clearly agitated. "An ill omen," a woman in his Khalasar whispered to her man.

Pono understood why when he looked up at those walls. He counted three, each taller than the one that came before. And then there was the water-filled ditch that made the task of scaling the first wall harder than it already was. Once again his heart trembled with anger and terror in equal parts. Whoever could build such a thing in such a short time had also defiled their sacred symbols and was likely a force to be reckoned with. Sorcery like this was no laughing matter.

His fellow Khals, however, had a different opinion. They were already frothing at the mouth. Pono scoffed at the actions of Khal Gomo. What did he expect by shouting at the stone walls? They weren't even manned. Though, Pono could see strange, long barrels set atop the walls, pointing outwards. 'Whatever were those for?' He wondered.

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of, what looked like, a man and a woman on the ramparts of the wall. The pair appeared to be looking down at them.

Then they leapt off and fell.

Any exclamations were drowned out by the sound of thunder. The earth shook and the heavens flashed blue and yellow. Steam and smoke hid the eastern horizon from view. When he saw what came out of the steam, he prayed the steam had blinded him instead. Pono's mind simply refused to believe that it was real- that they were real.

It was then that a shout of alarm came from behind him. Two large and milk-white, hollowed flaps, like the hard shell of an almond but smoother, erupted from the earth, snapped up a slave, sealed itself tight and vanished back wherever it had come from- all within the moment it took for Pono to turn around and blink.

Such incidents were not limited to his Khalasar and these man-eater shells were fond of more than just slaves.

There was a monstrous roar and his horse threw him off. Khal Pono fell but did not break his neck. No, it felt like his ancestors had abandoned him and his suffering would not end so easily. He survived the fall with likely a horrible ache in his back and a large bruise to show for it.

He did not get up, his neck was wet and his ears rang. His head throbbed and Pono… blinked up at the blue sky in wonder. 'What a strange day,' he chuckled, only for it to turn into a hacking cough. Pono couldn't hear anything. The earth beneath him shook violently but he didn't care about that, he couldn't hear right, that was much worse for a Dothraki. How was he to hunt or hear an enemy combatant sneak up on him, or hear for the tell-tale whistle of an arrow?

His hand reached up to his ear and found an abundance of oily wetness there. Hm. Bringing his hand before his eyes, Pono grimaced- blood. His ears were bleeding? Ah, that must be why he couldn't hear more than that hateful ringing and why his neck was wet.

Pono got up slowly.

His eyes saw but what he saw felt like something out of a nightmare. Men flew, leaving trails of blood and entrails behind them. Everyone knew men could not fly. He also saw the footprint of a giant a few paces away. It was so deep that Pono would need to roll if he jumped down to avoid spraining his ankles. Within the indent, patches of wet, red and pink dough-like substance were stuck to the earth.

Pono turned away from the odd fantastical sight and looked over the clearly smoking battlefield. One man was missing his body from the waist-down and was in the futile process of gathering his entrails and pulling them back into him. Pono wished him luck.

Another rolled around in a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames eating into his flesh.

A giant grey blur flew across his field of vision. It was too quick for Pono to see what it was but he did see the wild wind that came in its wake, ripping up patches of earth and clumps of grass and tossing them into the sky. He was thankful to the grey blur, he could not hear the ringing anymore. Sweet silence.

Pono walked across marred, torn earth and blood. Blood was everywhere and when there wasn't any blood, there was the sweet smell of charred flesh. The scent tickled the underside of his tongue, watery spit filled his mouth so he stopped by a patch of grass to hurl out the food he ate on the way.

Wiping his mouth clean of any remaining spew with his wrist, Pono kept walking.

He did not get far before the sky darkened. He looked up and saw a giant face looking down at him. Pono smiled at it and waved.

He remembered tales of Jhogwin that his Mai told him while she dragged her fingers soothingly through his hair, his head lying on her soft thigh.

"Jhogwin, Pono," she had told him, "Are creatures of the old world, you need not fear them, their time has passed and only their bones remain."

"But Jhogwin are scary, Mai! They are big and we are small. Wouldn't they just crush us?" Little Pono had asked his mother with no little fear.

His Mai laughed, clear and beautiful. "Silly child, we are Dothraki, the world fears our hordes for a reason. Our horses would run wide circles around clumsy giants. You need not fear what cannot ride, my brave boy."

"Hehe," Young Pono laughed, "That's right! Jhogwin are too big to ride horses."

Pono smiled at the Jhogwin. What an unusual nightmare he was having. Why would his mind dream up giants now after all this time?

Either way, Pono was not afraid- giants were long gone. A massive foot descended. 'The dream was at its end,' he thought with relief.

The drawbridge of the first wall lowered over the moat. Ymir and I walked past the two pillars and over the bridge. The next gate was 10 metres to the south, and the one after it, 20 metres to the north. Keeping all three aligned would've given any enemy a straight shot into the city.

I nodded approvingly as the mechanisms I had built into the walls worked seamlessly.

The transportation pods had done their part and any unnecessary casualties were avoided. I had talked to Marius and Lyra about the new freedmen and Dothraki arrivals before going out there. Farwan knew as a matter of course.

These people would be offered Aetherian citizenship. If they agreed- wonderful. If they did not- they would be given enough provisions to reach Qarth and buy passage to wherever they wished to go.

With the Dothraki gone, my gaze turned inwards. It was time to consolidate power. After that? Well, an empire wouldn't be an empire without a little expansion.

It was with the burden of constant plotting, planning and the roaring cheers of my people that I walked back home. Anything that kept my mind off the bloodshed and gore was welcome. There was no guilt, just disturbing imagery.

Ymir's warm hand easily slipped into mine. She squeezed and I squeezed back.

It felt nice to share some burdens and not bear them alone.

Chapter Text

Alysanne observed her grandchildren as they played. Baelon's youngest ran as far as his stubby little legs could carry him, one of his hands holding onto a stuffed red dragon. Meanwhile, his older, more sensible and calmer brother tried his best to keep up with the little drake.

Baelon and Alyssa whispered and giggled lowly in a corner while Aemon, her eldest, made silly faces at the little girl sitting in Jocelyn's lap.

Alysanne's heart lightened at this warm scene and pressed a kiss on the soft silver curls atop Viserra's head, which caused the little girl to giggle. It seemed impossible for her youngest to sit still, but Alysanne was nothing if not an experienced mother. 

And like any good mother, she quickly noticed that one of her daughters was not in the room. This revelation caused her mind a small pinch of worry, especially when considering who was missing. ‘Where had that silly girl gone?’ She wondered, exasperated at her daughter's uncanny ability to slip away.

“Aemon, keep your sister company.” She adjusted her grip and stood up. Aemon, the dutiful son that he was, accepted his new charge.

Alysanne left the room and glided through the red walled corridors of Maegor's Holdfast. Her annoyance grew as she did not find who she was looking for. 

“That troublesome child,” Alysanne muttered. 

She was about to give up on her search and call for a group of maidservants to search through the lower floors- the only problem was that there were no servants to be found.

‘How strange,’ Alysanne thought to herself. It was highly unusual for there to be a complete lack of guards or maidservants. She was completely alone in these long corridors. A draft from a nearby door blew in and Alysanne shuddered. Her curiosity led her to slowly nudge the door open- this one, she remembered, was one with a view over the Narrow Sea.

She sighed with relief as the objective of her search stood staring out over the open balcony. 

“Saera!” Alysanne walked over to her daughter. “What are you doing here? And where are your handmaids? Didn't I tell you not to go underfoot without your handmaids? What if you slipped and fell or were injured in some way?” She berated her troublesome daughter. Saera, on the other hand, acted as if she had not heard her. This simply made Alysanne angrier.

She took a step forward, aiming to force the disobedient girl to turn around and face her. Before she could do so, the ground beneath her feet shook violently. Shrill screams of fear and pain assaulted her ears.

Alysanne tried to take Saera into her arms and run to her other children, but her daughter was as hard and unyielding as stone. It did not matter how much she tried or pleaded, Saera did not turn around.

In the distance, the sea rocked violently and steamed as if a fire had been lit underneath.

It was the last of it and her daughter that Alysanne saw once the floor beneath her feet ceased to exist. She screamed as she fell. Her fall was abrupt and surprisingly painless, yet the terror that had seized her had not allowed her to think about that overmuch.

She lifted herself up from the rubble, looked around, and saw only ruin and more rubble. A thick black smoke rose from the direction of the shattered Great Hall where the Iron Throne presided. 

Her heart clenched as her eyes witnessed the terrible sights before her. In the courtyard, bodies of household guards wrapped in Targaryen livery lay broken and bloodied. Alysanne let out a choked gasp as she saw a Kingsguard torn in half, as if some great demon had gripped him by his legs and pulled them apart.

She was too afraid to walk any further, and no matter how loudly she called out for Jaehaerys, her sons or her daughters- nothing but crackling flames and billowing ash answered her.

Alysanne did not know how long she stood there, keeping her bile down, but she was sure it was an eternity. It was the light lockstep thumping of armoured feet that jostled her frozen body to action. She bunched her gown high enough to give any Septa a stroke and ran as lightly and quietly as she could, her strides as long as she could manage. 

Alysanne did not look back to see if she had been seen or what sort of men those footsteps had belonged to, to do so now would be foolish. She had a dragon to get to.

She knew the halls of this keep well enough to reach her intended destination without the aid of sight. She knew which passageways opened outwards and which had to be pushed in with a firm shoulder.

Before she knew it, the dark underpassage had fallen behind and the Dragonpit loomed.

Here Alysanne did not cower nor did she slink into the shadows like a sneak. This was the Dragonpit, the stables of the greatest creatures to ever grace the world- dragons. Her family's dragons, and a Targaryen does not cower before dragons. Foolish was any man or woman who dared enter here with swords or spears. Nothing but death and fire would await them.

She marched her way through the Dragonpit, frowning at the absence of any Dragonkeepers. Silence ate away at Alysanne's courage and boldness, and the cold settled into the growing cracks. 

Every peek into the dens lining the cavernous corridors yielded the same result- an utter absence of dragons.

Alysanne's anxiety compounded with each step. The shadows grew longer and the air grew colder, while the thunder outside played an ominous beat.

The beat seemed to reach a crescendo as her destination lay before her- Silverwing's den.

She pulled on the wrought iron bars of the gate and was met with nothing but more darkness. Worst of all, there was no sound of her Silver Queen's breaths and the den lacked her draconic warmth. Her panic spiked and Alysanne stumbled forward, grasping at the dark emptiness like a blind woman, desperate to feel the scales, tail, horns- anything!

The darkness suddenly lit up as if the moonlight had slipped in through unknown means and Alysanne gasped when she saw- not Silverwing- but three smashed dragon eggs. Their cracked shells were still sticky with yolk and the poor drakes were so badly mangled and crushed that Alysanne could barely tell what they had looked like. She collapsed to her knees, her heart overburdened with continuously growing grief. She sobbed, for the little drakes and for a Silver Queen who did not answer her call.

Alysanne woke with a scream of horror on her lips and quickly found herself being pulled into Jae's arms. She tucked her head into his neck and sobbed.

She was still shaking when she left her brother's embrace. The tremors persisted but she had come to her senses. ‘It was just a dream,’ she sighed with relief, though the fear and gut-twisting horror had not entirely abated.

Alysanne nodded and mumbled her thanks when Jaehaerys passed her a gold-rimmed goblet that he had filled with the Arbor Gold he kept in a cabinet nearby.

Her husband watched her drink, his purple eyes catching the low glint of the moonlight- moonlight much like the one that had illuminated her path in that horrid dream. She shuddered and Jaehaerys covered her hand with his much larger, callused one. 

“What did you see in a dream that makes you tremble so, my love?” His voice was filled with concern so pure that it made Alysanne almost swoon. 

She tried to smile, tried to retrieve her hand and never speak of what she had seen- or what she thought she saw. The details were growing fainter the longer she spent in the world of the waking and the sane. 

But Jaehaerys had an infuriating habit of catching the scent of secrets and digging until he found them or something close enough to provide him with reasonable satisfaction. 

So she told him. A tale of madness and horror, of grief she could no longer justify- why did she weep in the dream, she wondered now. She felt so silly. 

Jaehaerys listened patiently, however, unaware of the turmoil her mind went through as it recounted the tale. The more she spoke, the more the tale fractured, some details she remembered clearly, others she had lost sight of. 

Her brother fell silent once she had nothing more to say. “You must think me a fool,” she slumped, the long strands of her hair falling over her eyes like a curtain- a curtain that Jae did his best to pull back. She giggled and pulled away as his fingers trailed their way down her cheeks.

Jaehaerys smiled good-naturedly, “To be afraid after a night terror is nothing unnatural, sister. Yet, it was naught but a dream. Do not linger on it any longer.”

Alysanne knew her brother had the right of it, but she could not shake the ill feeling or the nagging doubt that she was too afraid to give voice to. Her brother must've seen her hesitation and so sighed.

“You fear that these events may come to pass?”

Alysanne nearly flinched even though she heard no mockery in his words, “I hope not, dear brother, but it is not something without any precedent- in our House, that is.”

Her brother pursed his lips, Alysanne knew now that he had already made up his mind and nothing she could say would change it. “Alysanne, The Dreamer is said to have dreamt of Valyria's fall for moons with alarming consistency before her father took action. One bad dream does not make a mystical prediction,” he sighed and took the goblet from her clammy fingers. “Go to sleep, my love,” his lips pressed warmly upon her temple. “You have nothing to fear. I shall be by your side until the end of our days.” 

Alysanne flushed and hoped her bedmate could not see it. “Hmph, you'd best, husband.”

She felt his strong warm arm wrap around her waist and his breath huff pleasantly down her neck. Alysanne Targaryen fell asleep, her last coherent thought being of Baelon and Alyssa's impending marriage and the grandsons of her dreams.

Chapter Text

Ymir squared her shoulders. This was her moment. She would not hesitate. Her mast- husband - she felt giddy whenever she thought of him as such- had believed in her . He had placed his trust in her ability to aid him in shaping a nation. Ymir held back a shameful blush. Damian was too kind and trusting, she did not believe that a weak creature like her had done even a fraction to earn it.

She grit her teeth. No, she would not feed the monster that whispered to her of failure, of despair. She would not let this self-doubt become an obstacle. Damian expected great things of her and she would not disappoint.

Ymir walked through the wide streets of Othrys, her back straight and her eyes unwavering. Consistent practice before a mirror worked wonders, she decided.

Crowds, of which there weren't many in the newborn capital, parted as she passed. Her people whispered amongst themselves, their hushed voices barely containing their excitement and awe. Children practically climbed over each other's heads to see their Empress and the adults were no better- men and women alike stumbled over each other to catch a glimpse of her. Ymir was… flattered. Being so well-liked was something she still had a hard time coming to terms with. Their reverence, respect, and awe left her with all sorts of strange feelings. 

She wondered if it was the power she shared with Damian that made them tremble? Was it because she was his wife? Or was it the beauty he had gifted her that caused their heads to turn and their eyes to widen? She knew enough of the lusts of men and women to understand the power behind a pretty face and an attractive form.

It could be either but not lust, no. She felt the relentless and secretive gazes of Aetherians and knew their hearts and minds as if they were her own. No, they did not lust, not after her. They would not dare and they could not , she let a small smirk grace her lips. Her Emperor was a possessive and vicious man when he wanted to be. 

Ymir had mastered the art of willful innocence, and so when her husband had been molding the minds and bodies of every Aetherian in the Paths, he had also ensured that none of them would ever truly lust after her. She had nearly burnt her ears off with the heat that crept up into them but she'd managed- Nidhogg was a dear friend on such occasions, though Ymir was confused why the Great Serpent was amused.

Damian, at the time, had simply brushed it off as something he did for her continued safety within their Empire. “I do not trust the people with your well-being when there is even the slightest chance that they could harbour ill thoughts about you.”

Ymir had nodded, of course, but in the Paths, her beloved's mind, heart, and soul were bared to her. He could hide his mind in the waking world but not there, where Three met as One. She had felt the simmering red heat of his possessiveness ripple across his being and decided that she loved every ripple. It made her feel wanted, desired and worthy enough to worry over.

A bright-eyed Aetherian child shyly waved at her, only to hide his face in his mother's bosom when Ymir smiled back. The mother, too, blushed and hurriedly lowered her head.

‘No, there was no lust here,’ Ymir thought, ‘Only an abundance of love and respect.’

She ignored the wretched part of her that told her that she did not earn or deserve any of it, she would not be able to keep her peace of mind otherwise. 

Her attention was soon caught by a woman who came running up to her with a clothed bundle in her arms. Not an Aetherian , her power whispered to her. Her four guards must have sensed the otherness of the woman and leapt into action. One remained behind her with his hand curled around the handle of his circular shield, ready to pull it overhead in case of a projectile. The other two stood to attention with their hands hovering over the hilt of their swords, and so it was the last guard who intercepted her.

The woman wept and begged but her guard's heart was as steely as his grip and he would not buckle under the weight of pleas and tears.

Ymir cleared her throat and spoke with the clarity and authority she had learned from observing Damian, “Bring her closer, Marlyn. What is it that causes her to weep?”

Marlyn, once a malnourished slave, now a looming bear of a man, stuttered and bowed awkwardly. “G- great Empress, this- Outsider,” Ymir knew he meant to say Dothraki but refrained from doing so as the Dothraki were declared a dead race by the decree of her husband. “Says that her newly born babe suffers from shortness of breath and fever. She pleads for your aid.”

Marlyn relaxed his hold upon the woman and she fell to her knees before her, Dothraki slipping from her lips like coarse sand as she wept. Then she carefully placed the bundle in arms upon the cool surface of the road. Her hands clasped tightly, she pleaded, and Ymir understood. She could feel the body of the child struggle to hold onto the fraying rope of life. It would not last long as it was.

When asked why she had not accepted to join their great nation as that would've resolved any sickness, the woman answered that she did not have the time to do so as the labours of childbirth were upon her, she had spent a night and the early hours of the morn struggling to push out her daughter. The Oath-Taking was a day from now- time her daughter did not have. 

Ymir grimaced at the thin trail of blood seeping across the smooth stones of the road- blood whose origin could be traced from betwixt the thighs of the woman. Running through the city had worsened the wounds of birth. 

“Very well.” The joy and shock in the mother's eyes warred with the steady stream of tears that dripped down her cheeks. Ymir brushed her hand against the burning cheek of the infant and worked her magic. It wasn't a particularly hard task to heal the child by elevating its blood into the Paths, yet, Ymir struggled to stay focused on it, resisting the urge to pinch the incredibly soft, cloud-like cheeks and make strange sounds while doing so.

She really wanted to.

But to her childish heart's lament, she did not. The changes occurred near-instantly in the eyes of the onlookers- the babe's breathing evened out and the mother's battered body gained a new lustre.

“From this day and onwards, you and your daughter are the Blood of Aetheria. Welcome home, daughters of Aetheria.” The woman bowed deep and her eyes spoke what her tongue was too heavy with emotion to utter. An applause rippled through the gathered crowd. As Ymir walked away, she saw the people nearby move to congratulate the woman.

Ymir smiled. Before meeting Damian or witnessing the formation of Aetheria, she could not fathom a land as prosperous or a people so united and at peace with each other. Her Emperor had proven that his vision for a superior society was achievable. Damian was right to mold them with care, to eliminate all that was foul in them. Mankind could be very nasty and had too many failings and bad habits ingrained into its blood. And foul blood should never be allowed to propagate any further, it would only darken the future of humanity. 

Infants much like the one she had seen to, died young soon after birth, for one reason or another, while others bore the burden of a twisted body through no fault of their own. It was the ones who lived longer that suffered the most. The world outside the walls was rife with hunger, war, famine, sickness and worst of all- slavery. It ached her heart that, at this very moment, an innocent child was brought into a foul world unknowing of the horrors it would witness as it grew.

Fortunately for humanity, her husband had taken it into his capable hands to scour away their defects. Much blood would be spilled, she knew, but it was inevitable. Some people were simply too tainted and wicked to be of any use in the newly civilised world. Some were outright obstacles and Ymir's blood burned at the thought of them. It made her teeth clench at the thought that there were people out there who would blatantly oppose her husband. Such people could not be human, she decided. Only demons, the foulest of fiends, would oppose his prosperous guidance. 

Ymir vowed to stamp out every ember of defiance.

Ymir finally arrived at her destination- the Green Quarter.

Each section of the Quarter differed from the rest. In one section, tall, golden stalks of wheat swayed lightly with the wind, whereas a few metres away, tomatoes, carrots, lettuce and beans grew in long rows next to each other. In the distance, a large patch of land had been flooded to grow a crop that Ymir had never before heard of- ‘rice’, Damian called it. He called them ‘filling’ and ‘nutritious’- she did not know what the latter meant but at least it would feed their people well enough to matter. A section had been dedicated entirely to fruit trees- tall, and heavy with clean, shiny fruit- grapevines snaked through the gaps with impossible orderliness.

It had been a week since the first seeding of each crop and today was the day it would all be harvested. ‘Harvest Day,’ the farmhands and overseers had called it. Their wonder, Ymir shared, though she did not goggle and gasp as they did. 

With a great deal of fondness and sadness, Ymir remembered a time before she became a thrall of the Eldians. Her mother, may her soul find peace, had cultivated a small patch of land behind their modest hut, on which she grew four to five different sorts of fruits and vegetables. It was also where Ymir had learned of the varying period of growth, water, and time that each required before they were ready for harvest.

Damian had clearly defied the constraints of nature to accomplish this feat. A week for all crops to reach their harvest, with the only variation being the methods with which the seeds were sown, how deep they were sown, and the amount of water used. He had tried to explain how he had ‘modified’ the seeds, but much of it went over Ymir's head. Perhaps the next time he worked his magic, Ymir thought, she'd make an effort to learn.

“My Empress,” Minister Voreon finally broke the momentary silence that settled over the Quarter with her arrival. He subsequently dropped to one knee and his right fist thumped vigorously against his chest. His underlings and farmhands quickly followed suit.

“Rise,” she commanded and the genuflecting crowd rose smoothly to their feet, though none dared lift their gaze, not even the Minister.

“The crops seem to be ready for harvest, Minister,” Ymir voiced her observation.

“Indeed, it is as Your Majesty says.” 

“We are here to oversee the harvest, Minister, and its eventual distribution amongst Our citizens.” Ymir was glad she didn't stutter- that would've been incredibly embarrassing.

If Voreon was surprised, he did not show it, only bowing deeper once and sweeping his arm smoothly towards the fields behind him. “Please, My Empress. It would be our honour to host your radiant presence.”

Ymir maintained a polite smile, and with a wave of her hand raised a pavilion and a throne to sit on, “Very well, Minister. Let the harvest commence. And while it does, sit with Us- We wish to know all about what the Quarter has cultivated and how it shall be distributed among the populace.” Another seat rose nearby, not as grand, but comfortable enough.

Voreon nodded gracefully and sat, his posture rigid and attentive. He spoke of much, diving into the details of what they had accomplished here, and with a mind that did not forget, Ymir listened. As she had promised the man she loved, Ymir picked the mind of the Agricultural Minister.

A large crowd had gathered inside the Granary- a large, domed warehouse constructed by Damian for the sole purpose of food storage, packaging, and distribution. Damian had referred to it as a ‘state-owned warehouse’ that would house foodstuff and grain that the Green Quarter produced. This would continue until a farmer class rose to prominence. Privately run farms would naturally be given the opportunity to store their goods here for a reasonable fee.

The air was regulated and cooled through means the Aetherian people were unaware of. Sweat and suffocation due to a large gathering were, thus, not a concern- being physically superior to the common human form helped as well. Every Aetherian that could attend, was present. Those who could not were either not within Othrys’ walls or serving her husband.

Ymir looked down upon the crowd with an impassive gaze. Her gaze swept across a myriad of countenances, each painted with awe and respect of some hue or other. Some more than others- there were those whose wide, teary eyes made her distinctly uncomfortable.

With liquid grace, Ymir, Empress of Aetheria, stood up to address the murmuring crowd. The murmurs ceased.

“On the blessed day that our great nation was founded, my husband and I promised you much. Let no Aetherian doubt our words. The Green Quarter has borne fruit- hunger is now a concern of the past, it shall trouble you no longer.” The crowd erupted into cheers. Ymir smiled and let them celebrate. She spoke again, once the cheers died down. “While it is true that the Quarter would provide for all here and more still, an endless supply of grain it is not.” Confusion and worry rippled through the crowd.

“The Quarter's fields have limits to how many mouths they can feed.” A lie, of course. Damian could make it so that they'd feed Aetheria for a hundred thousand years without fail. He simply refused to do so. Ymir understood why. Her husband was a wise man- he foresaw much indulgence, excess and a people too weak to work for themselves and their nation. Damian did not wish to cripple a core industry and making farming obsolete would do exactly that. The excess and indulgence could only be staved off for a few decades- permanently if he molded their minds, though he disliked the idea- but the weakness… that had to be culled.

“Othrys may appear vast, my people, but these wide and lonely streets would not remain lonely for long.” You're doing so well, Ymir, hold on tightly to what you memorised. “As our Empire grows and prospers, so will you. The Blood of Aetheria would multiply and overshadow the population of any lesser nation.” Comprehension now rippled through the crowd. Good. 

“Each week, a fixed share of the harvest shall be distributed. A reminder that the Empire provides for its children, yet know that its love and grace are not to be taken for granted. That is all.”

The message, she knew, had been received as clearly as could be. A few shouts of “Long Live the Empress/Emperor” were expected, and once the passion had settled, an orderly line was formed to receive their respective rations. It twisted like a snake through the spacious hall.

Her part done, Ymir left in a roomy carriage prepared for her.

Damian had jested that it was a ‘publicity stunt’. She often wondered about the world he had come from- his people had such strange and colourful names for things.

Upon reaching their shared abode, Ymir sighed loudly and fell face first onto the soft bed.

“So how was it?” A familiar hand poked her leg. She huffed and mumbled incoherently into the sheets.

“What was that?” He was amused. Ymir didn't appreciate that right now.

“Good,” another muffled answer.

Damian decided to tease her further, softly poking her in the ribs where he knew she was ticklish. She giggled. This was unjust. Her husband was a brute. “Aww my introvert is exhausted.” 

Intro... vert? Ugh, more colourful words that she knew not the meaning of! If only he'd let her glimpse into his mind so she'd know what he meant! “S-stop!” She was gonna wet herself if he didn't stop tickling her.

Ymir was crying and laughing. To stop this assault she decided to take matters into her own hands. She bunched up her small fist into a punch and let his shoulder know how cross she really was.

Damian looked shocked and raised an eyebrow, his smile nowhere to be seen. Shyly and sheepishly, Ymir punched him again, lightly this time, the skin around the corner of his lips twitched so subtly that most would doubt it even happened. Ymir’s eyes were sharper, however, and so she persisted shamelessly, her punches growing lighter and softer each time until Damian could no longer resist the laugh that bubbled out of him.

“You've become quite the warrior queen,” he smiled, laying down beside her, his fingers lightly tracing the back of her hand.

“You don't approve?” she widened her eyes and made them glisten with purpose. She crowed in victory within the sanctity of her heart as Damian's eyes grew worried for a moment. Of course it didn't take him long to recognise the teasing for it was and when he did, he scoffed, muttering something to the likes of, “Give me strength.”

“It wasn't too bad, was it?” His eyes now devoid of the earlier mirth.

“No,” she replied with a whisper.

Several moments passed and Damian said nothing, choosing to stare at the intricate carvings in the ceiling with her.

“It was… different.” Ymir carefully worded her thoughts. “Not in a bad way. They… they looked up to me,” She knew he was listening even if he said nothing. It was easier for her to speak when he wasn't staring at her. “I felt their love and their… devotion. It was… beautiful and… terrifying.”

“It's unnerving, I know. Did you meet with the Minister?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“And? Is he any good at his job?” ‘Or do I need to replace him?’ was implied, whether as a jest or not, Ymir wasn't sure.

“He is. He's quite knowledgeable. Very…”

“Dedicated?” 

“Yes. That.”

“That's good to hear.”

“Um...”

Damian turned to her and Ymir cursed some of her thoughts for floating away. “Your magic… any new spells?”

He smiled and Ymir's tummy did strange things. “Progress is steady and I think I've got the hang of manipulating fire without overdoing it. Water is a bit tricky but I'm sure I'll have some basic stuff down soon enough.” Ymir was glad he was taking it slow and steady. They didn't want a repeat of the last incident. An Imperial Palace with a large melting hole in its walls was a terrible look. She rather liked their new home and preferred to keep it unburnt.

Damian suddenly got an excited glint in his eyes, “I was wondering…”

“Mhm?”

“I'm taking some promising volunteers for their first flying lessons tomorrow morning. You wanna tag along?”

Ymir couldn't stop the smile from splitting her lips and nodded with such swiftness that if she wasn't an Aetherian she'd pull a nasty muscle.

Damian chuckled and shook his head. “Better be at the walls at first light then.”

Oh, she would be.

Chapter Text

I wish I could say that I awoke at break of dawn's first light, but that would've been a lie. Even though my new physique removed any need for long hours of sleep, I continued to stick to a set sleep schedule. Doing so was not without its advantages, however. Slipping into my dreams brought me to the Paths without fail.

And in the Paths, where the passage of time was a fluffy, mostly weightless concept, I continued to test the limits of my titancraft. Ymir joined me for these exercises more often than not. Her hesitance and anxiety melted away under long 'hours' working together, building strange and fanciful structures that no human engineer would ever approve of, then toppling them as titans afterwards.

Ymir, particularly, liked making weird, funny, googly-eyed caricatures of people she had once known during her captivity. These mini titans were kinda uncanny and I wasn't their biggest fan in the beginning, but they amused her to no end- especially when she attached cocks smaller than a Greek hero between their legs. I do admit that watching noodle-armed bobble heads trying their best to smack each other around, had its charm.

I peeked down at Ymir, who lay slumbering on my arm, her face buried in my chest. Any attempt to quietly pull away would only result in mumbles and guilt-inducing whimpers, so that was out of the question. I also knew she'd wake up regardless, so why bother? Somewhere during the one month we had been together, I had become her alarm clock. We may enter and exit the Paths at different points in time but, eventually, one of us would notice the absence of the other in the shared dream. Which meant that the little gremlin clinging to me would wake up soon.

True to form, her eyes flew open and her grip grew painfully tight, her heels digging into the side of my thigh. Then relaxed just as quickly once she looked up at me.

"Hello there." I grinned. My grin grew stiff when she eeped, her head ducking back down and her nose digging back into my chest. Did she like that or not? I couldn't tell because of the rule I had imposed to not peek into each other's thoughts.

Damn it, Damian, Star Wars references don't get you girls! You're not Obi-Wan Kenobi, even though you do have telekinesis and a bit of foresight. It's the lack of a plasma sword, isn't it? Damn, I really need to get my hands on one of those someday, they definitely add to the aura.

Nidhogg expressed its confusion about why I required a sword made of 'star blood'. In its own words, "A sword of burning star blood is an inefficient weapon for close contact combat. It would burn you well before it burns through your enemy. A better combat strategy would be to drop it on your enemy's head. That or to send a spear of the substance flying at them."

I closed my eyes for a moment and sighed. The burden of upholding and justifying the rule of cool is indeed heavy. With a thought, I sent the eldritch serpent my memories of Star Wars and lightsabers. Nidhogg was equally interested and confused by the concept of the Galactic Republic, specifically the part where species with different dietary/social needs, ideologies, and cultures were able to co-exist without absolutely murdering the fuck out of each other.

Suddenly, Nidhogg let out an eldritch laugh that rippled through the Paths. I frowned, wondering what was so funny.

The glowing serpent was all too happy to point it out. "That red creature survived being cut in half by a star blood weapon! He should've been ashes before he fell to the ground. Humans craft such humorous tales." Then it looked through my accursed memories of the Ahsoka TV-show. I sighed as I knew what it was going to comment on.

It didn't say anything but I could tell that Nidhogg was highly amused. These memories would keep it entertained for some time.

I lightly shook Ymir by the shoulder, "Get up sleepyhead. It's almost time for the flying lessons." I added another nudge to her shoulder. Ymir looked up, eyes half-closed, then slumped down again. This lazy girl… She loved sleeping more than she did flying apparently.

I sighed dramatically, "Fine. I guess I shall teach our volunteers how to fly without you." That got her to jerk up and fix me with a sad and betrayed gaze.

I simply raised an eyebrow. Your tricks won't sway me this time, you little minx. A moment passed and Ymir blushed and pouted. "Please don't go without me… husband," she added with a husky whisper.

I very nearly avoided choking- it was a close thing. I made no outward indication of my internal shock and quickly commandeered my biology when I felt the electrical impulses race down my spine. Their destination? My cock. I internally sighed, stopping any awkward erections dead in their path. Fuck, I knew sleeping with this girl was going to be the death of me. 'As long as we don't have intercourse' my ass. It's never just about sleeping when it comes down to it. I knew sleeping in the same bed would be hard but I vastly underestimated how hard (heh) it could really be.

Here I thought I had enough self-control to not jump on this 13 year old before she was old enough and ready to make that decision herself without the onset of puberty clouding it. I was wrong. There wasn't a night that passed that the thought of taking her and burying myself into her warmth did not worm itself into my heart.

I was a wretched man, I knew. How disgusted would my older sister be should she ever find out that I had slept with a middle schooler? I wasn't on Earth and far from being a creepy old fart, that was true, and it felt right to be near her, but the thought that I was taking advantage of her naivety and deep-seated traumas did not sit right with me. She was not alright and still needed time to heal. Hmm, perhaps a few female friends her age might help her seek out hobbies other than clinging to me? I should talk to Marius about it, perhaps Lyra too could provide some insights into who would be a suitable handmaiden.

With a stone cold face, I gently lifted her arms and extracted myself from her embrace. I tried not to let the disappointing loss of warmth batter down my will. If she could, this lazy girl would keep us in bed for half a month until our stomachs were forced to growl for food. Give her an inch and she'd take a mile.

I selected a simple white tunic and a utilitarian blue jacket with grey jeans- I didn't require anything flashy for today. Steadfastly ignoring the stare burning into my back, I buckled my pants and slipped on the jacket. My lips twitched upwards when I heard a soft sigh and the rustling of bedsheets.

While waiting for her to change into something decent and presentable, I spread my awareness out over the capital until it reached the flatlands outside the city limits. Besides the fifty people riding out towards the designated spot, I found a peculiar presence stalking them through the air. A lithe, sharp-eyed hawk- a hawk with a human intelligence piloting it. A deeper look revealed who was behind the avian predator. Huh, it looked like my spy master was making good use of the powers bestowed upon him.

I pulled on the Paths as soon as the volunteers reached the designated meeting spot. They audibly gasped as a smooth, white, circular platform rose out of the ground.

"Ready?" I asked as her thin arm wound itself around mine. She lightly squeezed back. Alrighty then. Here we go.

Space bent, curved and twisted. For a moment an odd weight settled in my stomach and a shiver ran up my spine, it was gone before my enhanced faculties could even ponder on whatever it was. The transition was smoother than I expected and only a slight vertigo was felt the moment my feet touched the raised platform. We naturally found ourselves becoming the focus of the wide, astonished gazes of our people. Ymir released my arm though she did not leave my side.

It only took one to remember to kneel and the rest soon followed. A few 'Hail!'s, 'Long Live!'s and several variations thereof followed. Only a raised hand stopped the unending stream of bootlicking.

"Rise, my people." They rose smoothly with the kind of inhuman grace that would unsettle any common man's nerves. Good thing I wasn't entirely a common man anymore.

"You are here to learn the craft of flight, how to ride astride the flesh of flying creatures and command them, and upon learning all that there is to learn- serve the Empire with your lives, in any capacity deemed necessary," I concluded with a tone that reflected the gravity of their potential undertaking.

"Those among you who are undecided about whether they wish to be a part of this- walk away. There is no shame or judgement in doing so. You are a free people. Live as free people do- boldly and without fear. Do not allow yourself to be forced into a path you do not wish to commit to." With a gentle smile, I observed each and every Aetherian, from the smallest tick to the fledgling drop of cold sweat gathering in a palm, trickling down and dropping onto the earth below. Their eyes did not dare meet mine, but they did not need to. I felt their unwavering conviction in their stubborn silence.

"Look Us in the eyes and tell Us…. What. Are. You. Here. For?" They audibly gulped and slowly raised their gaze as if frightened that their eyeballs might spontaneously combust if they looked upon me. I could make them but I wasn't that sort of a monster. Not to my own people.

"To Live! To Serve! To Die! For Freedom! For Aetheria!" Their right fists hit their chests with loud thumps while the other arm remained stiffly fixed at their sides. Their eyes did not dodge mine now so I could see it clear as day, a fire that had no name, one that burned without falter. Believe it or not, I did not teach them that salute, it was something that somehow trickled down into their psyche when I had made the Aetherian biology template. I really needed to be careful in the Paths, even the slightest stray thought shifted the sands.

"Good." I nodded and opened my hand, a leather drawstring pouch appeared out of a fist that could not have contained its heft. I shook the pouch, the mystery objects within clacking crisply against each other. Five large steel tables rose out of the ground. Showmanship was an art in itself.

I placed the leather pouch on the one in the centre, loosened the string and then reached inside. Before fifty curious pairs of eyes- and one avian- I dangled a 3 inch long, dark grey, curved talon. I flipped the talon between my fingers- a neat party trick- then tossed it over to the side. The light of the sun glinted coldly off the talon as it fell, the point of it digging into the dirt.

The talon trembled. A low, serpentine hiss cut through the silence, sharp and unnatural, causing the volunteers to shudder. Then came the burst- steam exploding outward in a dense, boiling cloud no wider than five meters. Within the cloud some thing moved. It was large, clearly. The audience did not have to wonder for much longer, for the creature within flapped its wings, the cloud of steam vanishing like the morning mist under the rising sun. The revelation caused much shock and awe, nothing I did not expect.

Its colouring was white with streaks of light grey in each of its feathers- each as large as a grown man's arm up to the elbow, light, incredibly flexible, and sharper than any steel besides dragonsteel, though so far I had not tested it against any. The wings themselves were massive and powerful, and could cast a shadow over six grown men standing side by side.

At first glance its legs looked like that of an eagle, but upon closer inspection one would find them to be thicker than any avian leg had any right to be. The scales that protected them were hexagonal so as to cover the limb, resist, and distribute force efficiently- hexagons were indeed bestagons. The feathers too, were strongly rooted and grew in a hexagonal pattern.

The beast was not as tall as it was long. From head to flank, it was 2.5 metres, the tail adding half a metre more, making it a total of 3 metres. Unlike the griffins that it had served as my inspiration, its neck didn't grow upright like a horse's but remained on the same horizontal/spinal axis, quite similar to a proper lion. Its cruel, slightly curved beak could easily reach up to the stomach of an average Aetherian citizen who stood at 6 foot 3 inches. That was shorter than the average horse and for a good reason- a quick getaway when shit hit the fan. An Aetherian with a wounded leg- or any other injury- would find it harder to push off the ground or pull themselves up and mount the beast if it had been as tall as a horse. It was, thus, also easier to dismount.

Swift, aerodynamic, silent, and deadly when it needed to be. The gryphon stood proud and looked just as mean as expected of a mythical aerial predator. It didn't spew stone-melting flames but I didn't need it to because it wasn't meant to be used as a WMD. It was built as a biological, multi-purpose fighter. To that end, I think I did a pretty good job.

Now all that was left were the riders. I turned to said prospective riders, "This is an Imperial Gryphon. It shall be your mount, your eyes in the sky and if need be- your weapon against the Empire's foes." I trailed my fingers over the deceptively soft feathers of my gryphon. "Take one talon and summon your mount." I hid my grin when Ymir took that as her que to glide over and get her hands on her own gryphon talon.

Only after their revered empress had taken her talon, did the volunteers line up to take theirs. They were quick to summon their gryphons but assumed that theirs would be as docile and agreeable as ours. They soon learned the folly of assumptions and not asking vital questions before trying their hand at an entirely new craft- a common mistake among overly excitable rookies.

A few aspiring riders were knocked flat on their asses as their gryphons reared up and sent them flying. These little shits were lucky I had enhanced their entire biology when I made them my citizens, else they'd either be a pile of broken bones, paralysed below the waist, or the living sigil of House Bolton.

Only a few had the good sense to establish a positive rapport with the proud animal before trying to mount its back. For them, the results varied, from their gryphon ignoring their existence and digging up worms to being cautiously curious and letting them pet it.

I made a mental note of the individuals that had succeeded within the first few attempts, those were the ones to look out for and possibly grant some sort of authority in the near future.

The first to smoothly mount their gryphon was a young dark-skinned boy from the Summer Islands, and the other, unsurprisingly, was his twin sister. The other two to succeed at their task were a blonde, green-eyed man from the hills of Andalos and a square-jawed, former shepherd from Lhazar.

Once everyone else had gotten on their gryphon without an instant ejection, I commanded them to dismount.

"Wonderful. You've passed the first hurdle- getting the gryphon to like you. Now, slice your palm and feed it your blood. Doing so deepens the connection between man and gryphon," I gave them the most important tip of all. Those that did, blinked rapidly and stumbled as they felt the bond snap into place. "You will feel the beast's presence in your mind, its overall health and vitality. No muscle shall twitch without you knowing about it." I waited patiently as they grew accustomed to the bond and once they did, I demonstrated how to turn the gryphon back into an easy to carry talon. Yeah, I just ripped off Pokémon, so what? If it works, it works.

"Gather round. Don't be shy," I waved them over to the tables that were completely bare a moment ago. The first item to be distributed to the trainees was a shock-resistant helmet with a mouth-piece that would help them breathe in thin air, and orange tinted, anti-glare lenses set into the goggles. The second was a suit designed to retain heat and keep the rider warm at high altitudes, while also being tough enough to resist the fast-moving dust and sand particles. "Never fly without these," I warned them sternly. The trainees nodded rapidly.

Next up was a saddle that would allow the riders to not only ride their gryphons comfortably for prolonged periods of time but also aid them with positioning their legs in such a way that they did not dangle awkwardly down the animal's flanks. I called upon the Summer Islander, Zalhabhol Xhaas' sister, Lazanta Xhaas, and guided her into the appropriate riding stance (steadfastly ignoring Ymir's glare)- torso resting on the cushioned memory foam, legs slightly raised and angled backwards- quite similar to the one adopted by superbike racers. While it did look uncomfortable from an outsider's perspective, I made sure that it was anything but.

The saddle, once attached, would remain on the gryphon until its rider's demise. The gryphon could also be unsummoned and the saddle would follow it into the Paths from whence it came.

Once each of them had received their saddles, I walked over to another table, this one laden with whitish-blue backpacks. I picked one and explained what it did, "Now, normally, an Imperial Gryphon has the extraordinary ability to rapidly heal itself from any surface wounds and minor punctures quicker than you can scream out for your mama." A wave of quiet chuckles passed through the group.

"This backpack is for those rare circumstances where your gryphon is injured in such a way that it cannot heal itself quick enough to avoid a nasty ground collision." There were plenty of winces and gulps at that- their bond with their mounts fed them a certain kind of confidence, so they'd never considered that there was a chance that they'd ever fall from the sky. "Or in the rare case where you might find yourself in an unwinnable situation- because remember, my brave Aetherians, your continued survival is more important than any vain pursuit of glory." I continued on with the lesson, stoically ignoring the looks burning with admiration. Basking in the awe and swelling emotion was a luxury my lack of narcissism would not allow.

I hooked my finger through the hole of the ripcord, making sure everyone had seen it, "Once you've safely unsummoned your mount and are freefalling through the air, pull on this ripcord. Doing so would deploy a large sheet of fabric held together by ropes strong enough to bear the weight of your body- a 'parachute' is what it's called. This parachute will slow your fall. Pulling the right or left handles above your shoulders will steer it in that direction and rapidly increase your descent speed. Pulling both handles simultaneously will significantly slow you down."

I could see that it was hard for them to visualise a parachute and the forces involved in an emergency or tactical descent. No matter, practical experience was irreplaceable for a reason. I was not here to hold their hands, after all. They were here to learn to become my sword in the sky, so I'd teach them.

I tossed the backpack at the Summer Islander boy. "Pull on that metal piece and open it up," he steadily unzipped the compartment I had pointed out, the one which didn't house the parachute, his eagerness warring with good manners. "Pull out the items within and show it to your comrades." He pulled out a black water flask, made of a heat-resistant alloy, sturdier than any metal found on this world. Its surface did not reflect the light- perfect for infiltration missions, wouldn't want a glint of sunlight or moonlight to give my soldiers away. He retrieved four other items, a metallic rod with twisting grooves at the base, a dark grey lighter, a yellow tube containing oval pills, and finally, a shockproof and waterproof compass.

How did I manage to make any of this? The Paths provided me with ample time to experiment with the basic ideas and layman concepts floating around in my head. Titancraft also opened up tech trees that were bizarre enough to pass as magic and efficient enough to leave any tech my world had dreamed up in the dust. Case in point- the lighter.

It looked like a zippo but didn't use any batteries, lighter fuel or flint to spark a steady flame. Instead, it had a dimly glowing, red stone the size of a pinky embedded where the wick should've been. The sharpened tip of the ember stone, as I had begun to call it, ignited with a bright flame whenever it was exposed to oxygen in the air. The energy contained within this small stone was simply unbelievable. "A flame at the slight flick of a thumb, tune up the wheel inside for a hotter, more precise flame." I handed the lighter back to the boy, who tested it out and then passed it on to his sister. The lighter changed eager hands, leaving giddy smiles behind. "It'll last for ten years before the ember stone needs to be replaced." That bit of information didn't dull their grins at all.

"This…" I aimed the cylinder at the sky, careful to keep it well away from my face. I didn't really need to, my enhancements made the thing harmless. It would, however, give any Aetherian a nasty burn if they weren't careful and the best way to teach safety parameters was to apply them yourself. "Is a flare." With a light twist of my wrist, the grooved knob clicked and a hot ball of bright light shot up into the air, leaving behind a trail of smoke. "If you find yourself in trouble or are grounded, it serves as a distress signal- the smoke trail lingers in the air for a full hour, making it easier for the rescue teams to locate you. On the other hand, it's an excellent distraction, and with the right aim and a steady hand- may be used as a weapon against other flying enemies."

I didn't specify who the 'flying enemy' was, but the way the trainees exchanged glances made it clear they understood. However, it wouldn't do to forget that there was potentially more than one faction in this world that had mastered flight.

I held up the pill bottle, "In the case of severe injury, poisoning, burns, or frostbite. One of these would regrow severed limbs, staunch bleeding immediately and restore you to perfect health. However, consume it while healthy, and it will grant your body the energy needed to survive without food or water for a week, with the added benefit of gaining- temporarily- the strength of two dozen men."

I tossed one to the Andal man, Davos of Rock Hill Point, and summoned a moving stone knight for him to pummel.

Suffice it to say that the crowd was cheering, and the knight was demolished within five minutes. Davos bowed deeply, the bloody scrapes on his elbows and knuckles healing at a visible rate.

"This is a compass…" Now this one really blew their minds.

….

Once I had demonstrated the mandatory, state-issued gadgets for my flyboys (and girls), it was time to put them through their paces. The trainees were tasked with a series of exercises. They were to summon and unsummon their gryphons, and practice mounting and dismounting without any wasted movement and unnecessary delays. Once everyone had mastered buckling and unbuckling themselves from the saddle, they were instructed to strap on their backpacks, mount their gryphons, and follow my lead- that also included Ymir.

A mighty gust of wind rose as nearly five score gryphons beat their wings, flattening tall grass and weeds to the earth.

The first flight was a bumpy one. Motion sickness- or air sickness- the likes of this was something none of them had any experience with whatsoever. It was much like sudden turbulence on an airplane, except you couldn't choose to sit in the aisle row, plug in your ear pods, turn on your Steam Deck and forget that you were going up, up, up. I noticed that those that had prior experience with months-long journeys on a ship, found their 'footing' far quicker than those that did not. Not unsurprising as sea sickness was a bitch and a half to battle.

Their gryphon bonds ensured that the trainees did not become so sick as to throw up off the side. Soon the gryphons' ingrained instincts fed back into their rider. This was as convenient as I was willing to make it for my air force.

Ymir was the happiest soul in the sky, her golden braid arcing like a comet, dancing with every shift in the wind and lift. Her eyes met mine and she grinned, I responded with one of mine.

I led the trainees through diving maneuvers that ranged from gentle descents to stomach-turning drops and weaves- these would be incredibly useful.

Once far enough west, I raised my arm and signaled the riders behind me to bank right. A few struggled at first to turn so suddenly but managed to keep themselves within the bounds of the formation. Our flight evened out until we were soaring back towards Othrys, its walls growing closer.

I projected my voice into every ear. "We are drawing nearer to the city limits. The soldiers on the walls have their orders- protect the city. If that means shooting down any flying bastards attempting to fly over the walls, then so be it. Your orders are to survive and, if possible, strike back or incapacitate the defenders without turning them into mincemeat upon first contact." A wave of shock and panic rippled through the trainees. Good. They should take this seriously because-

A deadly jet of pressurised water neatly cut off a gryphon's wing. The shot had missed its target, the soldier operating the water cannon had been aiming for the chest or the head, but the damage was done. The gryphon screeched and spun through the air and sharply lost altitude. Its rider let out a scream of shock and pain as he was caught in the scariest tumble of his life. His gryphon left a twisting ribbon of steam as it spun, the wing was regenerating but the gryphon wouldn't be able to reorient itself quick enough to catch the wind before it crashed.

I could sense his life flashing through his eyes, panic and desperation warring for a spot on the podium to screech away at the mind. Fucking hell! Unsummon the beast and pull the damn cord, you fool!

Before I could warp space to negate the fatal forces that would meet him when he hit the ground, a sudden resolve bullied its way to the driver's seat. The boy did what he was supposed to, his panicked grip on the saddle loosened and his gryphon turned back into a talon in a burst of steam, which he then caught and quickly stuffed into his suit pocket. He then smoothly twisted his arm to reach the ripcord behind and pulled.

It took a second and a half for the parachute to fully flare out as it caught the wind. The parachute's meta-fabric resisted and bent the sunlight- from a pale white to an earthy brown and green as it bent the light around it. The further it fell, the clearer the image of the ground beneath it became. Soon enough the boy and his parachute could no longer be seen. He could not hide from me but his suit and helmet, made of a similar metamaterial, would obscure him from his enemies if he was careful. Credit where it was due, at least the boy remembered how to use the handles and set course towards a soft grassy patch.

The water cannon operators, on the other hand, were not satisfied with the elimination of one gryphon rider. Not at all. It was their duty to defend their homeland, and they did so with a focused ferocity. Their shots grew more accurate the closer we came to the walls. Streams of deadly fast water shot a few more trainees out of the sky. Most, however, were able to successfully avoid such a fate. Those shared gryphon instincts definitely came in clutch.

The formation split into five and then completely dispersed to avoid clumping together and making an easier target of themselves. Evasive maneuvers such as weaving, downward corkscrewing, and barrel rolls were performed to make it as hard as possible for the wall defenders to get a bead on them.

Lazanta and her brother demonstrated extraordinary agility, dodging whistling nets and exploding clouds of dispersion foam as if they were made of smoke. I watched, impressed, as Zalhabhol made his gryphon tuck its wings close to its body and dive straight down at a breakneck speed, only spreading them at the right moment.

The two soldiers manning the cannon let out a cry of primal fear as the gryphon swooped and snatched them up in its frontal talons, taking them up for a joy ride that they would not forget anytime soon. To add insult to injury, Zalha's gryphon flicked them at approaching dispersion foam cannisters. Following her brother's example, Lazanta too grabbed a pair. I snorted at my mental description.

Soon enough, the gryphon riders were either snatching up defenders or pushing them off the walls. I patted myself on the back for considering such an outcome and creating spatial folds in the air beforehand to disperse much of the force with which they fell, preventing them from going splat. It wasn't technically death at first contact, so… eh. Fair play.

Though… I might need to call off the exercise soon as the defenders were getting more and more desperate by the minute as their winged opponents grew used to their firing patterns, adapted, and grew increasingly comfortable with the evasive maneuvers for each type of attack. Panic and the unknown no longer ruled their minds, it hadn't for a while. It was only a matter of time before both walls and the few remaining men- less than half of the original fifty- would be overwhelmed.

A gust of wind, one not from my gryphon's wings, blew a lock of my hair astray. I glanced left and saw Ymir's gryphon flapping its wings, hovering by my side. Her expression was what gave me pause- to describe it as a bubbling cauldron of frustration, anger, and poutiness wouldn't be incorrect. She was glaring down at the walls.

"What's wrong?" I sent a whisper to her ear. She jerked in her saddle and met my eyes.

"Nothing," she whispered back. Another fat pout.

She was clearly upset with the defenders at the walls, but why- oh. Right.

For obvious reasons, the soldiers defending against the trainees' aerial raid did not attack or defend themselves against Ymir. It didn't matter what angle she approached them from or with what intent- the soldiers simply refused to fight back. Attacks ceased wherever she passed, creating a sort of mini safe zone around her. The trainees, of course, knew not to take advantage of said zone as this was a training exercise made to test how well they could fly in a high stress situation as well as their evasive aptitude.

Yeah, I could see why she was so pissed off. There was no way any Aetherian would ever dare attack her, even if it was just a training exercise.

I whistled to catch her attention once more. She tilted her head, confused. A spark of lightning and hot steam coalesced into a repeating crossbow which I promptly pointed at her. Her eyes widened and she quickly dove before the first rubber-tipped bolt flew.

Aetherians might not be willing to challenge their dearest empress but I had no such reservations.

Let the dogfight begin!

I grinned as Ymir sped away, giggling as she dodged my bolts with the grace of a ballerina.

I slapped the side of my saddle. "C'mon boy! Those birds are taunting us! Let's get 'em!" My gryphon companion screeched, its pride flaring and muscles thrumming with excitement.

Ymir was natural at flying. To deny it would be to deny that water was wet. She performed aerial stunts few- except perhaps the Summer Islander twins- would ever have the guts or skills to attempt.

I tilted my head to the side as two rubber bolts passed where my head should've been. Her laughter rang through the cold air as I continued to pursue her. This was the most fun I've had since I had begun messing around with magic. We would definitely have to make this a frequent fixture of our time in the Paths.

Our Tom and Jerry chase continued for half an hour, though it felt far shorter as time passes swiftly when you're having fun. By the time we called a truce, we looked around and found that the exercise had long since stopped. The wall defenders and the gryphon riders had all gathered on the wall to watch us play-fight. Their mouths gaped and their eyes were wide with amazement- this, I could feel, was an experience they would recount for years to come. It was also kinda embarrassing.

Well, I guess there was no need to call for a stop to the exercise anymore.

I looked down at the hundred trainees gathered before us. The two platoons looked mighty nervous and anxious, though props to them for not fidgeting and standing perfectly at attention.

I did not walk across their field of vision, hands behind my back, face all blank and serious-like. I wasn't cosplaying as a military officer with a stick up his butt. Instead, I kept up a relaxed smile as I addressed them.

"Over the course of this training exercise, my brave warriors, each one of you has pushed your limits. You have faced down your fears, adapted to the pressures of conflict, and executed your objectives with precision. What we have witnessed here today is not just a simple training exercise, but the demonstration of what it means to be an Aetherian soldier- to be ready, resilient, and reliable."

Their spirits visibly lifted and their eyes sparkled with unspoken emotions. I continued, "Your performance has been outstanding, despite what you may believe or feel. From the adaptability of your tactics to the teamwork and unity you displayed under stress, you've shown that you are prepared for any challenge that lies ahead."

"Do not be disheartened by any defeat," Ymir added, her smile gentle and radiant. "This was simply the first of many tests before you are sent to battle the enemies of Aetheria. Continue to improve upon what we have taught you and make us proud- make your nation and its people proud."

My smile widened as their right fists hit their chests and the air reverberated with their chants.

Five individuals stood before me: the Summer Islander twins, Davos the Andal, Ashem of Lhazar, and a lithe Lyseni youth with long silver hair and striking lavender eyes, who called himself Daeron, no given surname.

Each of them had proven their prodigious talent and ability to think and perform beyond the barebone basics taught to them. They also took initiative where others had hesitated. I wanted men and women like them to lead and command my air forces and told them as much.

"Each of you is hereby assigned command of ten gryphon riders. You will train them, discipline them, and forge them into an aerial force worthy of fear and respect. Is that understood, Commanders?"

They saluted with vigour. "We hear and obey, Your Majesty!" Nice.

"Good. That's what I like to hear. Now go. Eat, drink, and celebrate to your heart's content. Just make sure you're back on your feet the day after tomorrow to train your squadrons." My words were met with shy grins. "Dismissed." They saluted and bowed before leaving the palace solar set aside for meetings like this one.

Galmar entered the room as soon as they left.

"Your men performed well," I said to which Galmar grimaced.

"Not as well as I had expected, Your Majesty," he replied and I tsked softly.

"You expect too much of them, General," I chided. "Imperial Gryphons are not what those wall defenses were made to counter. I crafted those defenses for creatures half as fast, less than that as agile or resilient and with not as many flexible attack vectors. Your men were also commanded to decrease the pressure on the water cannons prior to the war game and forbidden from placing the riders in their sights. They performed as well as they could with the restrictions that were placed upon them. Tell them that and reassure them. I do not wish to see any lingering self-doubt in my men, General," I sternly reminded him.

General Galmar saluted, "Forgive my baseless worries, my Emperor. This one thanks you for the knowledge and reassurance that you have graciously provided."

I nodded. The last thing I wanted was for Galmar to think that his men had failed the test. Ah, before I forget. I walked over to my desk and retrieved a silver key from a drawer. Galmar deftly caught it. "Take this to the assigned vault. Have the guard open it. Inside, you'll find light, one-handed crossbows, combat knives, and first-aid kits. Ensure these are delivered to the gryphon unit barracks without delay. Tomorrow, inform the unit they are to bring these weapons, blunt ammunition, and their kits to training. You," His spine straightened, "will teach them how to shoot, stab, slash, and defend themselves. Then you'll teach them how to set bones, and stitch flesh should they receive any sufficiently grievous wound- because if they fight, they will bleed."

"Consider it done, Lord Emperor!"

I nodded, signifying the end of the audience.

Once Galmar left, Ymir poked my hand to catch my attention. "What?"

"Can we… fly?"

"We just did?"

She bit her lip. "I meant… in our dream."

"Oh. Sure. Why not? Just wait until night falls and we'll do just that. Now excuse me, my dear, I need to go and tame some magical lightning- preferably without frying my nerves." She perked up.

"And, no, you can't watch. You have other commitments- Lyra requested an audience with you about your future handmaidens. Every empress must have a few at least. Give her the go ahead. Tell her to find suitable candidates among the citizens."

Lyra didn't ask for any audience- the poor woman. Oh well, she's smart and spry. She'll manage, I'm sure. Better that than getting stared at while trying to conjure lightening.

A mage needs his privacy when testing out new spells. Absolutely vital, that. Yep.

Ymir thought for a moment before nodding. "Okay." Stomp on my heart, why don't you?

I watched her leave and sighed. She'd never learn to stand on her own two feet if I let her cling to me all day. I knew that was the right call but lying, especially to one's partner- one that was close to my soul- just didn't feel good. It didn't feel good at all.

…

I shed my flight clothes and warped into my laboratory/magic testing arena and cracked my knuckles. Let's get to work.

Chapter Text

The deeper I dug into the study of the metaphysical energy known as "magic", the more it continued to vex me. It was a strange power.

Any 'rules' I figured out were made utterly redundant in the face of some other discovery. This happened so often that I eventually stopped trying to define any hard limits.

Yes, I know. How silly of me, trying to define limits to a power that defied reason. The reality is, that defining limits to something is a subconscious thing humans do. It helps us feel like we're in control. I realise and accept that, I too, was prone to the same pitfalls.

That, of course, did not mean that I'd give up trying to master this art. I would master magic, even if it took me centuries to do so.

To succeed on this wonky path, I would have to adjust my mental approach to the subject I was researching. Not every magical effect or spell required the same mindset, intent or emotional intensity. I could not will a man's limbs to rot the same way I would a flame to burn him. Most importantly, magic, I felt, favoured the will of the mad and eccentric over those who would force it down an Orderly path. The more madly flippant the desire to give reality the middle finger- with no regards to those affected in proximity- the better a spell would turn out.

The Colours I now commanded also played a crucial role in how successful a cast was. Red and Blue enhanced every spell that fell under their conceptual domain. On the other hand, any spell that did not resonate with either Colour came out strange, weak, or dangerously unpredictable. Attempting to offset this setback by injecting more raw mana into the spell, was simply unfeasible and untenable for the foreseeable future. My supply of raw, uncoloured mana was scarce as it was in this magic-starved world. To use it to cast a spell that yielded little to no returns on the investment would be foolish.

This lack of Colour resonance seriously hampered my efforts to research different magicks, esoteric effects, and test theories. The spell to rot a man's limbs away, for example, aligned with neither Red nor Blue. Once again, I wondered what other Colours existed out there? If there was a Blue, Red, and a Purple, surely there could exist an Orange or a Yellow. The thought of a Brown Colour crossed my mind and I snickered. Indeed, sometimes, the greatest power was making your enemy crumble- one stomachache at a time.

Green, I was almost certain, existed. It was upon probing and prodding the enchanted emerald I had picked up from a dismantled idol, that I sensed it. Faint it might have been, but it was there. The mana within the emerald pulsed on a 'frequency' unlike that of raw, uncoloured mana- subtler, yet unmistakably different.

Did I know for certain that Green was a Major Colour and not simply the result of a fusion like Purple? No. No, I did not. Yet, the fact remained that it was distinct enough to stir my Spark, even in its faint and diminished state within the emerald. I may have been a novice in the study of magic, but even I knew the Spark- buried somewhere deep within my soul- was not so easily stirred. It was highly likely that it was the source of my ability to traverse universes, perceive and manipulate Colours, sense magic, and wield it.

Therefore, the most likely conclusion was that Green was somehow highly valuable. Was it more valuable than Purple? It hadn't reached out in the same way when I had created said Colour.

To test the veracity of this hypothesis, I prodded the Rhoynish amethysts. The lust energy felt similar to the Purple I made, though far weaker and lacking the same depth and richness of colour.

My Spark expressed no particular interest when exposed to this energy. To confirm whether the reaction was consistent across the board, I conducted another test. This time, I created a pinch of Purple and held it atop my palm, careful not to let it brush against my skin. Naturally, I had set up a few spatial safeguards around myself beforehand. It would suck if the Purple energy exploded and took half my palace with it. I had learned my lesson with the Fireball experiment.

There was only a slight bit of interest. To me, it felt as if my Spark had accepted it as magic but not as a Colour that could stand on its own. Technically, that was true- it was the product of Colour fusion.

So, what made Green so distinct? If the Colours of Magic truly mirrored traditional colour theory, then Green was nothing more than the union of Blue and Yellow- yet it felt like something more. Why?

Besides 'Green was the Colour of growth because… nature, wildlife, and forests'- no other explanation came to mind.

Knowing magic, the symbolism checked out. Fire, rage, destruction, and passion was Red; Blue was water, mind magic, illusions, and calm logic. Why couldn't Green be about nature and growth magic?

I nodded. That made sense. I knew better than to dismiss the most obvious and reasonable explanation. I took mental notes about the experiment and its findings and stored a copy of them in the core lattice-work of the Paths, hidden among a hoard of uninteresting memories. Any superpowered, magical busybody who wished to gain access to my hard-earned knowledge would have to sift through a pile of hour-long wank sessions and snapshots of the dull, mechanical, everyday routine I had on Earth.

It wasn't much- I knew that- but it was something. Deep down, though, I knew that any being capable of breaching Nidhogg's defenses- slipping past the quantum 'encryption', the illusions, and my own meager tricks- would have little need for the scraps of knowledge I held.

I shook my head, dispersing the fog of gloom and the weight of unwelcome thoughts.

Work now. Worry about the far future and wild what-ifs later.

I took a deep breath and locked in.

At this point, my deepest desire as a mage, was to seek out the Green and any other Colours that may exist in this world. The easiest way to do this was to travel the world.

I loved travelling- road trips, camping, adventure, exploration- I loved it all. It made my stomach tingle with excitement. Yet, I also knew that I had a responsibility here. The Empire was in its infancy and it needed me. Ymir couldn't run it all on her lonesome, even if she did agree to stay behind- which she would never.

I couldn't afford casual, blind globetrotting.

If I couldn't set out right away and pursue any whispers of magic, what could I do?

The easiest solution was to use the Paths to locate a Green magical nexus, clear my schedule for a few days, and fly over to claim it. Simple, right?

As I soon learned, it is seldom that simple.

The Paths did indeed allow me to observe the world around my physical body in ways I could not normally. However, what I saw was overwhelming, alien, and horrifying. The world was spread before me. Each living creature- from the smallest bacterium, to the largest mountain- was revealed and unveiled wherever my 'gaze' passed.

These sights were not meant for human minds or eyes.

I was lucky that Nidhogg was guiding me through the process and keeping me sane.

I stopped looking, of course. Even with the eldritch worm's aid, the view was just wrong and made my stomach turn. It also revealed a major drawback to this method- I simply couldn't concentrate on sensing a specific magical nexus when my mind was constantly screaming obscenities at me, telling me how wrong the sights were.

To work around this limitation, I began mapping out the world around me by projecting the three dimensional terrain and structures into the sand of the Paths. The white-and-grey map did not get far before it hit its first major obstacle. A massive, dark, fuzzy void 200 miles north of Othrys. My memory, sharper now thanks to the mental enhancements, recalled more than enough of Essos's geography up to the Bones to provide a suitable answer as to why.

This was the Forest of the Ifequevron. For what else could it be? The void was 1200 to 1500 miles long, a hundred miles wide, and ended near the Shivering Sea. Local legends say that it was once home to the legendary "small but gentle forest folk" that the Ibbenese had named "woods walkers". If Corlys Velaryon was to be believed- there was nothing but strange silences and haunted grottoes in that forest. He did, however, mention carved trees, which made me wonder if this forest had once been home to the Children of the Forest- or perhaps still was.

I asked Nidhogg if it knew why this area was inaccessible to its sight. Nidhogg replied in the negative, though it believed the likely cause was magic of some sort. Whatever magic concealed that place must be powerful indeed. And in my experience, powerful magic was dangerous magic.

Now, whether this obfuscation was a recent occurrence or not, could not be accurately discerned with Nidhogg's powers. But from what I knew of Asoiaf magic- such acts of magic were, more often than not, relics of a bygone age.

This was interesting, nonetheless. Now I knew for fact that there was something magical there, whether it was the Green or some other Colour was unclear.

Excited at the prospect of a possible magical nexus, I reached out with the Spark… and sensed… nothing?

What?

No, there was definitely something there.

'What seemed to be the problem?' I wondered.

For a while, I mentally cycled through a list of theories- some plausible, others far-fetched. One stood out as especially likely- that the veil was powerful enough to blind both Nidhogg and my Spark to whatever lay beyond.

I wracked my brain for what felt like hours- until finally, something clicked.

Nidhogg could sense disruptions caused by magical energy- that much was true. But I could sense magic without the worm's aid- and with far greater precision. The Spark was my guide, attuned to the flow of arcane forces- and it was through it that I felt the pull of the two magical nexuses that I was now connected to.

It occurred to me that, up to this point, I had never used the Paths or Nidhogg's senses as an intermediary to detect Colours. The Spark helped me figure out magic and feel for the minutest of changes in ways Nidhogg could not. It helped me differentiate Colours and how they worked or could be made to work.

I was probably going about this the wrong way. Could it be that by filtering the Spark's perception through Nidhogg, I had inadvertently dulled its sensitivity to the flow of magic? I remembered well how, on the way to this place, the call of Red and Blue had reached me from miles away, clear and undeniable.

There was a way to test the hypothesis. I centered my focus on the emerald, remaining within the Paths, my vision still bound to the worm's gaze.

The Spark that once recognised the Green mana within, was now silent. It did not stir- no matter how deeply I peered into the crystalline surface.

To see if this was something consistent or limited to the Green, I turned my gaze towards the Blue-filled sapphires.

Nothing.

I was torn between the urge to throw a fist in the air for finally figuring out what was wrong and groaning at the fresh hell of questions now flooding my mind. Questions like: 'Why didn't the Spark's senses work through Nidhogg's? The three of us were sharing minds and senses, so what was it that made my senses so special?'

And then came the theories: 'Could it be because the Spark was a part of my soul? (I didn't know for sure- it just felt like it was) Perhaps that was why it wouldn't work as well when there was some other being that its power was being channeled through?'

That, I felt, was probably the answer. Magic was bullshit and so, bullshit, conceptual, and unspoken limitations like that could exist.

To summarise- what did I know for certain?

First, I knew that the forest- vast enough to rival the Adriatic Sea- was undeniably magical. And it was the closest magical anomaly to me in this world.

Second, I knew I'd have to sense future Colour activity, magical nexuses, anomalies, and other esoteric phenomena directly, without relying on any intermediary. No shortcuts. No proxies. That meant I needed to be present on site to get any accurate readings on whatever the hell I was looking at.

And that, in turn, meant one unavoidable truth: If I wanted to deepen my understanding of magic, I couldn't avoid travelling to every magical hotspot I uncovered. Not forever.

I didn't like being limited when the possibility of a breakthrough was just on the horizon. So, I marked the place down as one I would visit someday. Perhaps once I had plucked out the slavers of Slavers Bay root and stem.

The sand map progressed south. Mapping out the beautiful, painted walls of Qarth, its wide streets and the date palms that shaded them. Then it went west where mighty pyramids topped with harpies holding whips rose above the city. My expression darkened as each city of the Bay was revealed to me in great detail. There were no people here, though I could ask Nidhogg to simulate live neuro-physical activity, I did not. The sights I would no doubt witness would just make me angry. More than I already was.

The Empire needed the time to stand on its own. Its armed forces, numerically meagre as they were, needed at least a year's time to train and polish the skills Galmar was teaching them. Their superior reflexes and strength- though not as monstrous as Galmar's- would no doubt give them an edge over their enemies. The superior armour, weaponry, and the repeating crossbows would only make the task easier. Bio-crystal catapults that grew their own stone shot and never ran out, were a besieged city's worst nightmare.

Slaver's Bay would fall. And if I had to drag the entire region into a free age- kicking and screaming- then so be it.

Until then, I would observe with grim satisfaction as Farwan and his spies infiltrated city after city, weaving a treacherous web. For there was no lack of resentful slaves bearing a hidden spark of hope in their bosoms, waiting for the right wind to stir it to life.

…

The map stopped at the Bones to the east, and Braavos to the west. This was not the result of limited capability, but of intentional restraint. The femtosecond-long flash of quantum energy over half a continent may be missed, but a full scan of the planet's surface? And one deeper than 500 feet? That would not be an inconspicuous twinkle and would be seen from afar by any sharp eyes in the deep void.

The time would come when my reach would extend across the Bones, past the Summer Sea, into the untamed Green Hells of Sothoryos, and then across the Jade Sea and Yi Ti, into the Shadow and farther still. Westeros too, I would know, more intimately than its learned men.

For now, the Near East half of Essos would do. Its cities, rivers, lakes, hills and mountains and the caves- natural or man-made lay bare before me, etched into hardened white sand. I studied it closely, my attention drawn to the miniaturised wonders of each city- the towering Titan standing sentinel over Braavos; the ancient, mysterious labyrinth carved into the stone of an island near Lorath; the three great bells perched in a temple on the highest hill of Norvos; and the thick, oval wall enclosing a quarter of Volantis.

The 3D map rose out of the sand, suspended in the air. Not a single grain slipped or scattered as what lay beneath the surface of each city was revealed. This included secret passages, tunnels, and ancient mazes. If I wished to examine a specific passage or corridor, a mere focus of intent would cause the sand to shift and part, revealing it like some alien cross-section- precise and unsettling in its detail.

The most prominent being that beneath Braavos and Qohor. Volantis had tunnels- true- but these were more of the 'escape an uprising or assassination' sort than anything religious or magical. There were also some in the middle of nowhere. These often led to secret tombs or underground barrows. Nidhogg did not detect any overtly powerful surges of magic in them. Whatever lay in these old tombs was either small and weak enough to not stand out or extremely valuable and of a subtle make. Or it was something that contained a Colour.

More golden markers of interest filled the map for future reference. Future me clearly had a packed schedule of tomb raiding, booby traps, and ancient curses to look forward to.

My eyes were inevitably drawn to three other 'fuzzy' areas. The most glaring one being the Valyrian Peninsula in its entirety. If the magical forest embodied subtle mystery and hidden danger, Valyria spat in the face of subtlety and screeched to the world- 'Death! Pain! Despair!'

The sand ceaselessly wobbled and shifted, the peninsula twisting into nonsensical shapes and patterns. Valyria did not want to be mapped. It resisted any and all attempts, Nidhogg confirmed grimly.

That was… within my expectations. Though I had hoped that my eldritch friend would be able to sneak some peeks into that hellhole. Oh well. I added another golden marker- this one ringed with blood red. This would require preparation and time- I could not Leeroy Jenkins this. In fact, it was excellent practice to not pull a Leeroy Jenkins when it came to unknown dark magic.

The other fuzzy spots were within Braavos. The House of Black and White was expected, but the Church of Starry Wisdom caught me off guard. Not entirely surprising, though, given how deeply Lovecraftian its very name sounded.

Hmm.

This was not good. Not good at all. The Faceless Men- I could understand, to an extent. Death is a constant companion to every mortal being, a shadow that follows from birth to grave. It made sense that such a universal force could be tapped for power, that people would flock to their House with desperate devotion or a plea to have them divest their enemy of their mortal coil.

But the Church of Starry Wisdom? What the fuck was even going on with them? What were their core beliefs? How far did their reach extend? What magicks did they practice and the most important question of all- what so-called 'wisdom' were they receiving from the 'stars'?

Nidhogg softly rumbled. 'Be careful.'

It said no more on the matter. And rightfully so. None of us knew anything about these cultists. If they were crafty enough to obscure much of their church from our eyes, we could not afford to underestimate them.

I'd deal with them- right after I crossed the Faceless Ones off my list.

And to pull off either task, one thing was clear- I needed to get gud with the magic I had.

There was just one problem- I couldn't do that inside the Paths. Not exactly. The Paths was a realm the three of us shared conscious and subconscious control over. It was fundamentally unlike the waking world- too malleable, too eager to yield to my magical manipulation. Spells tended to work almost flawlessly, even when cast sloppily. Great for casual spell-flinging, terrible for any serious practice. Asking Nidhogg to keep a tight grip on it and forcefully simulate the real world wouldn't work either. The Paths would obey both wills and the spell would still produce an unrealistic and unreliable effect.

If I wanted to get better at telling the laws of reality to bugger off, I had to practice doing it in the real world- a world that, unlike the Paths, would actually resist the changes I aimed to impose on it.

I left the Paths, opening my eyes to the Real.

A soldier made of sand rose on the other end of the arena. I left its puppeteering to Nidhogg. To win, I must turn the sandman into glass- it was against the rules for it to turn its limbs back into sand. On the other hand, the sandman could either sever all four of my limbs, eviscerate me, or cause massive, debilitating bleeding to win.

Lovely, right?

With a light pull of Blue, moisture was sucked out of the air to create a water whip bound to my wrist.

The sandman immediately sprung into action. One of its arms transformed into a nasty, serrated silica-edged blade, the other a spiked mace. Neither would be good for my health.

The air cracked as the whip sailed and relieved the sandman of the mace-hand, the sand of the 'severed' wrist darkening with stray wetness.

The sword-hand suddenly elongated into a spear, aimed at my head. To avoid losing a perfectly good head, I swiftly summoned a Moon Shield. It wasn't nighttime and the moon wasn't fully visible yet, so the shield was a bit weaker than it would be in ideal circumstances. But it was still a magical shield made of force dampening water. The water rippled as the sand spear tried to penetrate it and failed. The force behind the strike was distributed evenly across the shield, and I could feel the subtle vibrations in my left forearm.

It didn't stop there, however. The water rapidly lapped against the offending sand in the form of small waves, chipping away at sand particles and through this act- the structural integrity of the speararm. The process was as quick as it was shocking. I did not wait for the sandman to react or to attack me with the other arm when it eventually recovered from its moisture-induced disability.

With a clockwise twist of my hips I let the force and momentum behind the spear send him sprawling ahead. I cracked the whip, aming it at his knees. With an agility only a fellow superhuman could possess, the sandman jumped over the whip as if it was a mere skipping rope. The second pass it vaulted over- backwards.

'Fuck that. I had to either cut off his limbs or place enough distance between us so I could end this,' I thought to myself.

Though the shield had been depleted of much of its earlier power, it had enough juice left in it for a nice little parting gift.

The water burst outwards and flew at my opponent, freezing into tiny needles, large spikes and jagged ice shards. If the sandman was surprised, he did not show it.

I could swear that just a second before the inevitable impact, I felt Nidhogg smirk with amusement. The sandman's form collapsed down to the floor. The ice projectiles sailed over harmlessly, impacting the wall and shattering into quickly melting chips of ice.

The thin sheet of living sand just barely escaped getting roasted by a burst of fire and dodged under another fireball. It restructured itself back into the sandman and with a quick flick of its still functioning legs- removed some sand from its shins and sent four circular saw-like blades made of sand flying at me, each aimed for a different vital area on my body.

I reacted on instinct- a burst of high pressure flame ignited under my feet and palms, and flew over the circular saws, landing on the other side. Quickly twisting around, I swept my leg sending a wave of scorching flame at the sandman's weakened shins.

He was unable to dodge in time and the sand in his legs heated up, turned into glass and shattered, sending him tumbling to the floor.

Now with only half a body, the sandman had two options- continue the fight by reforming into newer yet smaller form, or surrender.

Much like me, Nidhogg didn't like the idea of a surrender. And so our battle would continue.

The sandman reformed, though not into a human.

A large centipede.

The creature was hideous, no doubt about that. Nidhogg sure had the psychological aspect covered.

I dodged the first and second lunge of the sandypede(?), using fire as a deterrent when it tried to rear up for a third. The bug did not let up that easily. It spat a thin burst of pressurised sand at me. Pain bloomed on my shoulder as one scored a glancing hit that wept blood.

A whip of fire lashed out, searing through two of its legs, but the sandypede remained undeterred.

I channeled Blue into my eyes, still weaving between its strikes. A small peek with Foresight confirmed what I suspected: standing my ground only made things worse. Each time I did, the creature split- first into two, then four. I could deal with one but multiple? That would be a losing battle. If I was to use my supernatural healing and strength for this battle, trampling this creature would've been as easy as pie. But this wasn't a test of superhuman strength but one of magical skill and its practical application in a high stress environment.

Raising a temporary wall of fire gave me the short reprieve I needed to focus on another Blue spell.

The wall of fire dropped, and the sandypede froze. Its 'eyes' darted between the six Damians now closing in.

Before it could form a plan, the Damians surrounded it. They smirked as one, and laughed as one. Before the creature could choose which to lunge at, they struck. Their fists lashed out unleashing jets of fire that roared toward the sandypede, set to converge and melt it into molten glass. But just before the flames collided- it grew wings.

It shot upward in a blur, moving so fast it nearly vanished from sight. Without hesitation, it locked onto one of the Damians. Its jaws clamped down on his neck- only for the image to flicker and dissolve. The sandypede hesitated, its expression a mix of begrudging respect and growing irritation.

The flames, the heat- none of it was real. Each illusion carried my scent, moved with my mannerisms. It had no choice but to go through them one by one, all while dodging their attacks. There was no way to tell which were harmless phantoms… and which would lead to certain death.

Meanwhile, I hovered above the arena thanks to a nifty little cast of Blue, my back to the ceiling, hidden away in a cool cocoon of Invisibility.

I steadied my breath and reached for Red. Slowly, carefully, I rubbed my fingers together. A tiny spark jumped to life, lightly crackling. If this worked then the sandypede was done for. If it didn't- I would lose the element of surprise and the battle would drag on for much longer. That was not ideal.

My desire to channel lightning was born out of a need to electrocute my enemies and fry them in a way that would strike terror in the hearts of those who witnessed it. The fact that it was metal as fuck, was simply a bonus.

I pictured the particles in the air, vibrating and restless. I imagined the friction between them, the agitation growing, electrons leaping from molecule to molecule, unwilling to sit still.

I coaxed that chaos into order.

Red coursed through me, threading into the space around my fingers. I didn't just summon lightning- I built it. One charge at a time. The electrons obeyed because I made them believe they had no other choice.

The air around my hand began to hum, then hiss as temperatures rose sharply. The sharp smell of ozone filled my nostrils. Power coiled at my fingertips, taut and trembling- begging to be unleashed.

All I had to do now was point… and let it loose.

The air was rent apart by a deafening blast as lightning struck- jagged and wild, white streaked with pale violet. It fell like a wrathful spear, blinding and absolute, with stray lances arcing outward, tearing deep gouges into the floor.

The sandypede hissed and screeched and then- silence.

I dropped down, careful to avoid the smoking molten puddle and the slagging floor beneath it. I reached out with my magic, probing the silence for the faintest twitch of life.

Nothing. Just heat, steam, and stillness.

I broke the silence with a loud whoop of triumph. "Fuck yeah!"

God, that felt so good.

No, seriously!

Not only did mastering a spell felt like passing another threshold, the more destructive spells fueled by passion felt good. I could get addicted to the feeling if I wasn't careful.

Nidhogg reformed the glass into another sandman and gave me a congratulatory pat on the back. I smiled. The worm made the sandman smile back- only its grin was just a bit too wide.

My smile faltered. Its smile widened further.

Ugh.

I shoved it away, and its shoulders trembled with silent laughter.

I rolled my eyes playfully and walked back to my research desk in another section of the training bunker.

Now that I have succeeded in bending lightning to my will, perhaps I should work on some control?

The optimum way to learn control over lightning, I believed, was to trap it inside a glass bottle.

The sandman tagged along to observe, even made a nice little glass bottle. I nodded in silent thanks and placed it upright. Then, pressing my index finger to the mouth of the bottle, I summoned a spark- lightning flared to life with a sharp crackle.

Obviously, it didn't turn out as well as I expected.

The bottle exploded. Shards of glass flew everywhere. I nearly flinched before remembering that my skin was impervious to such weak projectiles. My clothing was not as lucky and my shirt got shredded.

I sighed.

The sandman grinned once more.

"Oh, fuck off!"

Nidhogg chuckled in a way only an annoying eldritch bastard could.