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wolves-and-dragons · 27 days ago

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A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 51

Main Masterlist

Chapter 50

Synopsis: with the Loc Muinne summit approaching, and Saskia and Silverlark now being under the influence of Phillipa Eilhart, Geralt, Jaskier, and the Westerosi lot must do what they can to save Aemma from Phillipa's clutches. In a vision, Aemma finds herself in the position of Ciri during her days as a captive in Tir Na Lia, the palace of the Aen Elle...and with that, she also sees more visions of her parents' toxic relationship.

CW: Scenes of Dub-Con/Non-con/sexual and attempted reproductive coercion (MINORS DNI), scenes of spousal abuse, strong language, general violence, gender-based power dynamics, implied magical manipulation, implied captivity, brief mention of threats of enslavement.

A/N: Part of this story takes place during the events of the Witcher Novel the Lady of the Lake.

------------King's Landing: Flea Bottom-----------

A man of unknown history wonders the streets, fresh off the boat that had just sailed into the Blackwater Bay from Novigrad.

He keeps his hood over his head as he makes the secret knock at the door of a house at the corner. He was let in. The stranger took a seat at the table. Across from him sat the White Worm dressed in a calming dark shade of blue. She poured tea into a cup and offered to the stranger.

"I bring word from the Continent," the man speaks, "envoys from the Northern realms as well as Nilgaard are gathering as we speak. At a place called Loc Muinne. These are the names of expected participants. The list was confirmed by the Redanian spy Sigismund Djikstra."

Mysaria had a incredulous look as she accepted the list, though in truth, she knew The Redanian count's spy network to be effective and reliable, much so that she had spies of her own stationed among Djikstra's lackeys so as to keep tabs on the major happenings on the Continent (Mysaria admittedly couldn't help but smirk at the irony of an expert spy unknowingly having a spy network spy on his own).

She quickly skimmed the contents of what she read. Her eyes widening when the rest the last name of the list. "Well, well," She says in response, "It would be the little lost daughter of the Rogue prince has finally been found."

--------------Vergen-----------------

"Geralt!" Jaskier calls out as the aforementioned witcher and Iorveth run into the Bard as well as Zoltan. "Saskia disappeared," Jaskier informs, "the people are getting riled up." "Dwarves too," Zoltan adds.

Having learned earlier what really happened, having learned that the spell Phillipa used to save Saskia's life had been modified so as to put Saskia under Phillipa's influence- and also realizing Aemma was affected by that same spell when the sorceress had siphoned Aemma's power to make the spell work- Geralt and Iorveth now had to make the trek to Loc Muinne so as to break the spell.

Geralt made the choice to inform Jaskier and Zoltan of the situation. "But how- How did Aemma become part of Phillipa's control?" Jaskier balks. "Remember when Aemma used her gift to help with the spell?" Geralt points out, "she must've become affected by the spell's influence the moment Phillipa used her magic to channel Aemma's gift into that same spell." "So...Phillipa wanted to control Aemma along with Saskia?"

"I don't think so," Geralt admits, "it was clear Phillipa wanted to bring Saskia under her influence, likely to hold more sway at the Loc Muinne summit. I think Aemma being caught in Phillipa's web was a side effect. An accident." "Collateral more like," Jaskier growls, realizing his niece was in trouble again, "that witch is going to pay for this. I should've known something was off. I saw the way Aemma looked at Phillipa when she seconded for Dethmold to be put to the sword. Just moments ago before the battle, Aemma had persuaded the mob to spare Stennis so he would have a fair trial, and for her to agree with Saskia to execute Dethmold without so much as a trial? A gesture for Phillipa is all it took!"

"That bastard deserved it," Zoltan mutters. "I wouldn't be surprised if Zoltan had ordered it," Jaskier continues, "as vengeful as he is, but Saskia...?"

"Where did they go?" Zoltan demands. "Phillipa has taken Aemma and Saskia to Loc Muinne," Geralt answers, "I'm going after them, with Iorveth. Everything suggests those responsible for Foltest's death will be at Loc Muinne."

"Some still say you killed him," Zoltan points out. "I've gotta stop that drivel," Geralt nods, "don't have a choice. But you do."

"The elite of the North is gathering at Loc Muinne," Jaskier informs, "I couldn't forgive myself if I wasn't there...especially when my niece is in trouble." "She's not the only who will be there," Geralt subtly hints, "no doubt envoys from the North will be there, that much I can agree...among those is the king of Redania."

-------------the skies over the Continent------------

Vhagar made some low growls as she continued to fly, almost as if she were in mourning. Aemond had to wonder if it was her reflecting his feelings at this moment, or if she was genuinely sad to part ways from Aemma again.

The two did share some memories when Aemma was a child whenever she would go riding on Vhagar with Laena.

Now here they were flying away, back to King's Landing without the one person they were supposed to bring back in the first place. Aemond couldn't help but wonder what his mother would say.

No, he keeps shaking his head. He needed to go back. He couldn't just leave without Aemma, he needed to go back and make her see reason. This was not her home, this was not her place. Her true place was back at the Red Keep at his side as well as with his mother and his siblings. Aemma needed to support them for that inevitable day when the king would finally pass and Aegon would ascend the Iron Throne as king.

Aemond couldn't risk any of Rhaenyra's ilk making their way to the Continent to find Aemma and poison her against him, leading her astray to support his treasonous half-sister and her bastard sons. She needed to understand the stakes.

Aemond was about to direct Vhagar to turn around and return to Vergen with the intent of retrieving Aemma, even if he DID need to drag her back every step of the way. If he had to he would use Vhagar herself to threaten to burnt he village if only it would force Aemma to see things his way.

As he was about to give the command, the air suddenly turned icy cold. I mean, yeah it is cold, he's flying in the sky on a dragon, but it was colder than usual. Aemond saw his own breath as he exhaled. He saw the sky darken and snow begin to fall. Something wasn't right. This change of weather was not natural, it should not be this cold enough for a snowfall. Vhagar seemed to sense something was off as well as she became increasingly agitated.

Aemond gave Vhagar a few pats, trying to keep her calm. Internally, it made him concerned that the largest dragon in the world would be put off by this supernatural phenomenon.

Suddenly a massive portal opened in the sky above them, making Vhagar roar in shock. The jerking movement she made forced Aemond to cling to the saddle for dear life. Out from the portal came forth a dragon of black and gold. It was on the smaller side compared to Vhagar, but Aemond could see who the dragon was and recognized her right away.

"Cirillia!"

The dragon in question did a corkscrew turn as she made a nose dive past Aemond and Vhagar. As she did so, her dorsum became visible to where Aemond could see Cirillia's saddle. Astride it was a woman with green eyes and ashen hair. She wore clothing similar to Aemma and had a silver sword strapped to her back...just like Aemma.

The ashen haired woman turned her gaze towards Aemma, making eye contact with the man as Cirillia continued her descent. Cirillia called out, Vhagar calling back in response.

Vhagar then turned towards where the younger dragon was landing. Vhagar!" Aemond clings to the saddle. The air felt colder then it was before-thinner, a sense of foreboding and dread filling the atmosphere. Aemond looked up to see the portal in the sky was still open. What looked like an army of horses and warriors in black armor came through. The helmets these soldiers wore were almost skull-like in appearance, as if to incite fear into whomever would dare cross their path.

Aemond felt himself becoming scared, much like that night he lost his eye. These beings had to be ghosts of some kind. Vengeful wraiths conceived of the darkest magic, darker than what his ancestors of Old Valyria would have ever dared to mess with.

Vhagar shared the sentiment, jerking more in her movements as she landed on the ground in front of Cirillia, almost if the older dragon was planning to protect the younger one. The ashen haired woman in question was nowhere to be spotted. Did she turn out to be an apparition?

Aemond kept his hand on the sword, ready to face these monstrous wraiths if for some reason the threat of dragon fire would not be enough to deter them.

The haunted army turned their direction towards the dragon as they made contact with the ground.

Cirillia tried to go around Vhagar to confront the Wild Hunt, but Vhagar stopped her, getting in the way. Vhagar kept her gaze on the Red Riders, making warning growls. The leader of this army removed his helmet, revealing a face with raven hair and pointed ears. "Fucking elves," Aemond mutters under his breath, having had his fill with their kind for a lifetime at this point. Eredin only made a villainous smile as he gazed onto the largest dragon in the world along with her current rider. "Zireal!" he shouts, seemingly to no one, "you cannot hide forever, daughter of Lara Dorren! Not even an army of dragons will keep you safe!"

Vhagar made an offensive snarl in response as Eredin dared to move the Riders closer. Aemond noticed the way these elves were not even deterred by this obstacle in their place. Who were they that they could just brush off a dragon's threat with little caution?

"Hmph," was all Eredin said as he shouted in his native tongue for the Red Riders to charge.

"Dracarys, Vhagar!" Aemond commands. Vhagar did not even hesitate. Despite the threat of dragon fire looming, the Red Riders kept their pace. Caranthir raised his staff, shouting incantations to create a beam of ice to counter Vhagar's fire. Aemond went wide eye when he saw what the elf mage was capable of.

Grabbing his sword, Aemond dismounted, with the intent of charging Caranthir and destroying his staff. Before that could happen, another horse bound elf, Imerlith, charges towards Aemond with a club in hand. Aemond was quick to dodge the attack. Imerlith dismounted and kept his assault. Aemond knew dodged each blow, making certain to time his counter attack when the moment was just right. There didn't seem to be any weak spots he could exploit. Aemond attempted to block the next attack with his sword, but Imerlith's swing was enough to knock it out of the prince's hand.

Imerlith had a wicked smile on his face, "you thought you were more than a match for me, boy?" Disarmed, Aemond turned to retrieve his sword, but Imerlith was quicker and grabbed the prince by the hair, yanking him back. "Now, now," the elf tuts, "what's the hurry, boy? Stick around, and we might make you one of our slaves. Despite your d'hoine blood, I know some pretty elven women in Tir na Lia that would take an interest in you for one night." Aemond grunted from the pain of having his hair pulled, but even the mere thought of being forced into a similar position he was in on the Street of Silk for his thirteenth nameday was more than enough to make his heart race even more than it already was.

"Leave him alone, Imerlith!" A female voice called out, gaining the elf's attention. Looking up, a surge of light forced Imerlith back, forcing him to release Aemond from his grasp.

The ashen haired girl appeared right in front of Aemond sword in hand, ready to defend him. "You..." Before Aemond could finish saying anymore, Ciri charged at the elf. Ciri dodged every attack Imerlith threw at her, though she managed to get a few blocks and parries here and there.

She was quite fast and light on her feet, Aemond noticed. It was really starting to hurt his pride at this point that he was knocked his feet not once, but twice this whole time he's been on the damn Continent and he's needed to be rescued first by his cousin and now a complete stranger.

Cirillia finally managed to get around Vhagar, who was still distracted by countering Caranthir's ice beam with her fire, and charge at Imerlith, directing her own fire, to which the elf wisely dodged.

Caranthir now created a magic barrier to shield the Red Riders from Vhagar's wrath. He now directed his ice beam at Cirillia, who cried out in agony when the icy frost struck her in the face. "Cirillia!" Aemond calls out in concern for his cousin's dragon. Looking behind her, Ciri knew she was outmatched even with two dragons aiding her in this fight. Now all that remained options wise was to escape. Ciri muttered incantations and grabbed Aemond right as she created a portal to escape the Wild Hunt.

"You can't run forever Zireal!" Eredin calls out as the portal closes in front of him and his warriors.

Ciri panted, now taking time to catch her breath, exhausted from all the running and fighting, before she turned to face Aemond, who was laying on the ground and still reeling from the fact he was whisked through a magic portal two minutes. Ciri turned to kneel so she could be at eye level with the prince.

"Where is Aemma?" She demands.

--------------Vision Sequence: Tir Na Lia----------------

Aemma stood before the giant doors, feeling tense as she steeled herself to open them. Why she felt this way, she could not say. Something was supposed to happen...

No...she was supposed to meet someone. Who? A king? Yes, that had to be it. It wasn't her uncle King Viserys, she knew that. Aemma looked around. The palace was incredibly beautiful, it was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Even the elven ruins on the Continent could not compare to its splendor.

But it didn't explain how she came to this place. One moment she found herself in a tower...the Tower of the Swallow. Next thing she realized she was trying to find her way out to go find Geralt and Yennefer and the Lady of Larks....no....no, that's not what Aemma was doing.

The doors slowly opened and Aemma walked inside. She still couldn't figure why she was feeling so tense. What was supposed to happen?

"You'll be free and may go wherever you wish," she heard a deep voice speak in the back of her mind, "Assuming you don't decide to stay...with the child."

That voice....Aemma recognized it. It belonged to a elf she saw once in her vision many years ago. What his name? Avallac'h! But why did he send Aemma here? No, not Aemma...Ciri...

Aemma looked past the expansive, luxurious, room and towards the balcony. There sat an elf enjoying the view. He was tall, possibly taller than Avallac'h, and a lot more slender looking. Aemma thought back to the elves she encountered in her recent vision, Eredin and Caranthir, how they both had more meat on their bones than this Aen Elle. He had long hair that reached down to his shoulders, like Aemond, but the color was pure white...almost like Geralt's. When the elf turned to stare at her, Aemma was taken aback by his eyes. Grey, aglazed, almost as if he'd been taking fisshtech recently. This elf had a young man's body...but his eyes made him look ancient beyond his years.

This was Auberon, king of the Alders. The forebear of Lara Doren, and the one whose child Aemma was to bear....

No! Not Aemma! It was Ciri!

Auberon then speaks towards Aemma/Ciri, "Zireal...thank you for coming...."

----------later that evening---------------

Aemma sat on at a table dinning on a simple salad for her meal. Or at least she tried to, but found she had no appetite. She was wearing a different dress to what she had worn for her first audience with the Alder king. Now here she was dinning with him for the evening...before they...

Aemma now found herself babbling, her nerves on edge, but these words were not her own, nor was this voice hers. She was talking through someone...or was it the other way?

Aemma, or perhaps it was actually Ciri, then began to recall to Auberon a story from her time in King's Landing, when she was brought to the Red Keep with the Lady of Larks, when she befriended Rhaenyra, and had sworn to the Lady Lark's daughter.

"Fascinating," was Auberon's response, "I have to wonder, whatever possessed you to style yourself as the child's protector?" Ciri found herself stuttering. Why? Why did she do that? She thought back to her time in Kaer Morhen, when Aemma was born. She thought back to that vision of the blood wrym, how that vision became a reality when the Rogue Prince invaded and threatened to have his dragon burn the place to the ground if the Lady of Larks did not hand him his daughter and return to Westeros with him.

Ciri then proceeded to tell Auberon what had transpired at Kaer Morhen and the events that followed. Part of her was stretching the story out as long as she could, possibly with hopes of delaying the inevitable. Why, though? What was the point? Ciri needed to do what needed to be done as soon as possible so as to return to her world and reunite with Geralt and Yennefer and (y/n). She needed to keep her word so she can help (y/n) reunite with the daughter that was ripped from her arms.

Ciri owed the Lady Lark after all for helping her escape King's Landing even though (y/n) was left behind and left to be tormented by the Rogue Prince.

Auberon had nothing more to say. Instead he got up from the table and approached his bed, "Get undressed please," he directs.

Eyes wide Aemma suddenly found herself standing up as well, doing as she was told. It felt like forever. So many damn buttons and hooks to undo. This could not go any faster. She needed to get this over and done with. The sooner this bargained was made, the sooner she could leave this horrible place and return to her family.

It annoyed her to no end how the elf seemed to be in no hurry whatsoever. Auberon was a lot older than he looks, he probably wasn't. A hundred years is little more than a blink of an eye to their kind.

Finally Aemma stood before the Alder king naked as the day she was born. She felt completely self-conscious, hands covering her lady bits as Auberon looked her up and down as if she were some broodmare being examined before being sold to the highest bidder. Aemma felt her cheeks flame hot with embarrassment and a hint of anger. Why did she need to do this in the first place? Was the undressing really necessary. All she needed to do was lay on the bed and spread her legs and let him do his thing.

At least that is what she keeps telling herself as she climbs onto the bed, laying her back on the mink furs and waiting for him to join her. Auberon lays right next to her, not bothering to shed his own clothing.

He reached out to touch her, but Aemma grabbed his hand. "Why are you doing this?" "...I'm afraid I don't understand the question," Auberon tells her, "this is what we agreed to." "NO!" Aemma pulled away, grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around her.

Next thing Aemma knew she saw Ciri laying on the bed, naked as she was. Auberon laying next to her, touching her in ways that are meant to be pleasurable, but only made the girl uncomfortable. Aemma found herself trying to contain her embarrassment of this scene, realizing now why Ciri was in this position in the first place.

"This is wrong! Ciri didn't agree to this of her own free will, she was blackmailed! Can you not see how fucked up this all is?! What is wrong with you all?!"

The scene began to change, become distorted, almost as if there was an overlap. On the other side of the bed, Aemma saw two figures materialize. As they became more visible, Aemma recognized them to her mother and father. She saw Daemon shove (y/n) onto the bed, her mother having a look of terror in her eyes as Daemon pressed her down on her belly, pulling at the laces of the back of her dress, practically ripping them. "Father, what are you doing?" Aemma calls out, though he did not seem to hear. "Father, stop!" Aemma pleads, "YOU'RE SCARING HER! CAN'T YOU SEE MOTHER IS FRIGHTENED OF YOU? LEAVE HER ALONE! FATHER!"

"You must choose..." Avallac'h's voice sounded, causing the two scenes to freeze in place. Eyes wide, still wrapped in the mink fur, Aemma turned to see the aforementioned elf, a look of regret in his eye. "You..." "You must choose when the time comes," the Elf sage speaks once more, addressing Aemma directly, his voice becoming distorted by the joining of a more feminine voice, one that Aemma recognized to be her cousin Helaena, "hand turns loom. Spool of Green, spool of Black. Dragons of flesh...weaving dragons of thread...."

"A Dance of Dragons," Aemma heard Cedric's voice, "you must learn to understand this power to possess...it will help you understand your past, as well as determine the course of your future, and the future of your family, especially if any of them are to survive the Dance that is to come."

Aemma saw a brief flash of a woman with long silver blonde hair and violet eyes. Aemma recognized her to be Valyrian, A Targaryen even, but Aemma did not recognize her. Surrounding the Targaryen were three dragons, one black, one green, and the other golden white. "The mother of dragons," a faint voice whispered, which was more than enough to scare Aemma.

"I don't understand!" Aemma exclaims in confusion, "I...I don't even know what this Dance is! No one has even been able to properly exclaim my gift. Why I can see peoples' past? Why does it keep connecting me to Ciri! WHY AM I LIKE THIS?!"

Aemma saw the the scene before her fade away once again until her vision turned white. Aemma became scared and turned each way she could.

Then her vision turned black Aemma saw no more.

-----------end of vision sequence-----------------

Aemma bolted up from a bed.

Why was she in bed? When did she go to sleep?

Last thing Aemma remembered was she and Saskia following Phillipa through a portal, and Phillipa having every intention to take the two to the Loc Muinne summit. Aemma could still remember Phillipa talking to her telepathically, going over what demands were going to be made at the summit, which included the recognition of Upper Aedirn as a separate governance and the restoration of the Conclave that was dissolved 16 years ago following the Thanedd coupe.

Aemma knew Phillipa's reason for that was so the Lodge of Sorceresses would be acknowledged and given the power that was due to them.

But she doesn't remember anything after that.

"What...where am I?"

"It's alright, princess," a male voice catches Aemma's attention. Aemma turned to see a man dressed in royal attire, having chestnut hair that reached down to barely the top of his shoulders.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you princess," he speaks, "I had hoped I would've been able to meet you six years ago, that is if your father had agreed to my terms for a betrothal." "Betrothal?" Aemma frowns a bit before it clicked. Six years ago when she remained in King's Landing, her father's family flew across the Continent without her. One of those places included the kingdom of Redania.

"You're...you're the king of Redania."

The king makes a small smile in response, "King Radovid V," Radovid introduces, "you're the oldest daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen...by the Lady of a Larks."

"You...you knew my mother?" "I had the pleasure to meet many years ago for a brief time," Radovid tells her, "I was a fan of her work...I was also a great fan of her brother's work.

Your Uncle Jaskier."

Chapter 52

#the witcher #house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #geralt of rivia #oc #the lady of larks #jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #avallac'h #crevan espane aep caomhan macha #eredin breacc glas #auberon #aen elle #wild hunt #radovid #mysaria #iorveth

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wolves-and-dragons · 28 days ago

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A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 47

Main Masterlist

Chapter 46

Synopsis: with the people of Vergen growing restless, and accusations are being made in connection to Saskia's attempted assassination, Aemma and Geralt must do what they can to calm the mob before the situation escalates.

CW: Mob mentality, strong language, violence, implied classism mentions of blood, sexism/misogyny, brief sapphic-based kink scene (Minors DNI).

"What's all the commotion?" Aemma inquires of Ivan as the locals became increasingly restless by the hour.

"I fear this may turn into a riot," Ivan tells her, "it's about Saskia...and Prince Stennis. A servant has accused the prince of poisoning Saskia. The people are understandably furious. They want blood shed to avenge the woman."

"And....what is exactly stopping them at this moment?" Aemma asks. "The knights and the Aedirnian nobles mostly," Ivan answers, "though I'm not sure how much longer they can keep them at bay." "There was a peasant by the name of Kaltan on the council," Geralt explains, chiming in, "he didn't seem to like or respect anyone there." "If that's the case, he may very well be looking for trouble," Aemma says, "it's vital we maintain order, especially before we heal Saskia, which hopefully should be soon. We still have the ingredient yes?" "Short of one, I'm afraid," Phillipa chimes in.

"I...I don't understand," Aemma frowns in confusion, "you said we have everything we need, the herbs, the blood, the-" "The blood is no good," Phillipa shakes her head, "it...I checked the syringe. Long story short, your blood proved to be highly unstable, much like your power; we try giving that to Saskia, it may end up doing more harm than good. We'll have to look for another royal to draw blood from."

"Dammit," Aemma mutters, "I'm sorry, Phillipa." "Don't be," Phillipa assures, "you had no control over it's stability."

Right at that moment, the commoners became more vocal, led on by one man who was goading them in their anger. "Give us the prince!" One man demands, "Get the flails!"

"What is going on?" Aemma steps in along with Geralt and Ivan. "This need not concern you, girl," the second man, presumably Kaltan sneers at the princess, "Saskia has been poisoned, Prince Stennis is behind this. We demand justice!" Aemma looked towards the potential mob who were armed with various tools and torches, "this doesn't look like demanding justice to me."

"How would you possibly know, you little-" "STOP!" Iorveth's voice breaks through the crowd as he and several Scoia'tel join in the scene, "everyone who wants to leave this yard in one piece- keep your hands off your weapons. I don't care if you're a serf or a lord, I'll kill you all if need be."

"How are you to know Prince Stennis was the one who poisoned Saskia?" Aemma inquires. "The servant carrying wine said so," Kaltan answers, "It was Prince Stennis. We want justice!" "This isn't justice, this is a mob!" Aemma exclaims, "it's revenge. Who's to say the right person dies in the process?" "We don't care!" Kaltan exclaims, "Saskia has fallen as if dead, while the poisoning prince and the noble lords rush to herd us onto the field and sell us to Henselt. We won't let them!" "You lie, Kaltan," one noble accuses, "nobody is being sold out. The poisoner must be caught and tried by law." "Whose law? Yours?" Kaltan scoffs, "He'll pay a fine and then get spanked on his arse? We'll spank him alright- with an axe to the throat!"

"Where is this servant?" Geralt asks. "Safe," Iorveth assures, "The Scoia'tel are keeping an eye on him." "Why is the prince hiding in his house if he is innocent?" Kaltan sneers. "That is enough!" Aemma insists, "if Prince Stennis is guilty then we'll find out-" "Stay out of this you little bitch!" Kaltan threatens to shove Aemma aside, but Iorveth, much to everyone's surprise, stops the man in his tracks. "I would not do anything hasty if I were you," the elf warns, "this little bitch is Aemma Silverlark, lest you forgot she was named Saskia's heir in the council. You lay a hand on her, I will shoot you where you stand. Than heads will start falling." Aemma kept her surprise hidden as Kaltan backed off along with the rest of the mob. She had no idea Saskia had already announced that Aemma was to be her heir. Did Saskia anticipate that Aemma was actually considering this offer.

"We need to act quickly," Iorveth insists. "We?" Geralt says incredulously. "The mob's akin to a forest after a drought, one spark and the fire will be unstoppable," Iorveth explains. "I'm no peacekeeper, and definitely no judge," Geralt lightly scoffs. "We're all in it whether you like it or not," Iorveth tells him. "Iorveth is right," Aemma interjects, getting both men's attention, "The common folk demand justice for Saskia's poisoning, and if Stennis really was the instigator, we need to find evidence and fast."

"Where do we start?" Ivan asks. "Question the nobles and the peasants," Iorveth instructs, "and talk to the dwarves. Maybe you can get to meet Stennis. And find the servant who started talking so suddenly." "I could talk to Stennis, see what he has to say," Aemma suggests, hoping maybe her powers will come to her when she does talk and she could see into Stennis' past for clues about his potential connection to the poisoning. "Even if he is guilty, it's likely he's come up with a suitable alibi," Geralt points out. "You'll be able to sort out the sheep and the goats."

"Alright then," Aemma nods, "Geralt, you should question the locals, you know how to speak their language. Ivan, you go talk to the servant. I'll talk to Stennis. Iorveth...you'll keep the peace?" "I'll do my best," Iorveth nods in assurance. Aemma stayed behind momentarily while Geralt and Ivan split up. She looked to the elf almost questioningly, which didn't go unnoticed. "Did Saskia...did she really name me her heir?" "It would appear she had during the meeting," Iorveth nods. "Did you know anything about that beforehand?" Iorveth only shook his head in response, "she never told me. Frankly, it is still a mystery to me why she would choose you of all people."

"Why do this then?" Aemma asks. "Why did you stand up for me against that knight? Why get involved in the first place?" "...I'm doing it for Saskia, not for this rabble, that is certain," Iorveth answers quietly; as stoic as the elf usually was, there was a certain look of longing in his eye. Aemma recognized that look once before when she saw glimpse's of Iorveth's past with Ivan's mother. Did Iorveth have similar feelings for Saskia?

Iorveth in contrast was trying to make more sense of Aemma. What did Saskia see in this young woman, who descended from a dynasty of inbred conquerors who believed themselves to be exceptional and above respite? Was this really who Saskia felt was mist suited to help oversee a free realm that would see to it that humans and non-humans alike could live freely and without fear? So far, though, it seemed Aemma was already taking to a leadership position in the way she instructed the Vhatt'ghern and the in'hiede to locate the true poisoner and avoid a mob trial. Maybe there was something there that the elf couldn't see.

Aemma walked over to the house Stennis was supposedly hiding in. She convinced the guards to let her in, playing her new card as Saskia's Heir Apparent.

"Aemma Silverlark," Stennis greets, "welcome. What brings you here?" "I want to talk to you about Saskia?" Aemma folds her arms, acting serious. "I see," Stennis nods solemnly, "So the mob has gotten to you? Convinced you it was I who orchestrated her being poisoned?" "Hardly," Aemma narrows her gaze, "the people are scared. It is clear they adore and look up to Saskia, as if she were one of the heroes from the time of the First Men. Their hero is possibly dying, and they want answers. She wanted me to be her heir. I want to help. If you could give me something to do go on, Prince Stennis, I am certain we could work together to find the true poisoner. Consider it an act of cooperation, from a princess to a prince."

"Ah, that is right, you are a princess," Stennis agrees, "A foreign princess, but still a princess. We speak the same language in that regard." "What can you tell me, exactly?"

Stennis gave his alibi. As he did so, Aemma subtly clenched her wrist, trying to concentrate on the incantations Phillipa taught her when trying to access and control her powers the first time around. Maybe she use could them to help breach into Stennis' mind and give her glimpses of his recent past.

For a moment there, it seemed to work...but not in the way she had wanted. The moment she breached Stennis' mind, she found herself in another town; she saw Stennis arguing with other men, dressed similar to the nobles who were determined to see that Stennis be given a fair trial. The argument was intense and started to escalate, but she could not hear her them talk, their voices muted for some reason. So Philippa's incantation worked but only to a certain extent.

Stennis saw the confused look on Aemma's face, "You don't believe me, do you?" Stennis scoffs. "No, no, I do," Aemma assures, "I believe you. I'll take it into consideration." Stennis only gave Aemma an incredulous look.

"Why are you even here in the first place?" Aemma decides to change the subject. "Why are you here?" Stennis asks back. "I...Saskia asked for me, I wanted to know why," Aemma answers, "I am a princess of Westeros, I have nothing else to my name except my title. But you, prince...you're the son of Aedirn's late king. By that logic and reasoning, you should've been crowned the next king." "Well sadly, my position is not strong there," Stennis admits, "My father emboldened the nobles. The great families have decided, in this hour so critical for the realm, to revolt." "Are you not the next heir?" Aemma asks, "should that not have been disputed." "Odd question coming from a princess whose own realm has saw its first woman be name heir to it's throne," Stennis lightly scoffs, "all this despite the fact that your own king uncle has at least three sons of his own by now, his eldest son having children of his own. I know something about Westerosi politics, I've been keeping track of such matters since the time father send proposals in an attempt to betroth me to King Viserys' oldest daughter. Back to the matter at hand, Aedirn has become a lawless country, ruled by those who wield might, by those whom people follow. I intend to show just how worthy I am of the crown and thus claim what's mine."

"So that's why you aligned yourself with Saskia then," Aemma realized, "you help her take Upper Aedirn and defeat Henselt's armies, you would be welcomed back a hero...and one fit to sit the throne." "Precisely," Stennis nods in confirmation, "So, you understand then why any attempts on Saskia's life on my part would be antithetical to my own ambitions." "I...I suppose so," Aemma says, not so certain if this still could be Stennis' way of coming out of this whole thing as a hero, if he happened to have the antidote hiding somewhere which would be given to Saskia right when all hope seemed lost. "I don't appreciate your tone," Stennis admonishes.

"If you would be happy to indulge me, Prince Stennis, just of curiosity, what else do you know of my family and Westerosi politics?" "...I know your uncle King Viserys naming his oldest daughter Princess Rhaenyra heir to the Iron Throne, and refusing to officially name his oldest son Prince Aegon in her steed has been a contentious subject among the Westerosi nobles since the boy was born," Stennis answers, "I also know there are whispers at court that the sons of Rhaenyra by her late husband were actually sired by another man, though her father has yet to confirm if those rumors are true by declaring them bastards. I know that before all that, there were others on the Continent vying for Rhaenyra's hand aside from myself; Foltest was among them as were the king of Redania and the Emperor himself. I know Radovid had expressed desire to secure an alliance with your family by wedding you, though it appears such talks never went anywhere. If I recall, you, princess, had been meant to wed your cousin Aegon."

"My aunt the Queen, she felt we were not the best match," Aemma tells him. "I suppose not, especially when he had a sister to wed instead," Stennis says, the disgust in his tone noted from that particular concept. Aemma decided to let it slide, he was not the first person she's met who found the Targaryen tradition of wedding brother and sister to be indecent.

"Well then, I better be on my way then," Aemma says, "thank you for your time, prince. Oh, before I go though, might I request some of your blood?" "Whatever for?" "Phillipa needs royal blood in order to save Saskia's life." "I am yet to be crowned." "But you come from a long line of royalty." "As do you, why not you give the witch your blood instead?" "My blood was a little too strong as it turns out," Aemma admits, "Unstable." "Likely from your incestuous bloodline," Stennis sneers, "be that as it may, I do not consent to having my blood taken." "Even if it will save Saskia? We need it for her." "I NEED it to live. Now if you don't mind, princess, I'd ask that you leave. Don't want Saskia's heir to overstay her welcome."

"...very well then."

----------------later---------------

Once Aemma walked out of the house, he saw the mob was starting to heat up again, clearly getting impatient and wanting to see justice carried out for Saskia's poisoning.

Geralt called out over to Aemma, "I don't suppose you found anything useful," she says. "Not quite," the witcher admits, "yourself?" "I questioned Stennis, he had an alibi," Aemma confirms, "even if he wasn't the one who put the poison there, it doesn't mean he didn't conspire to harm Saskia."

"Either way...we appear to have run out of time," Geralt grimly says as some of the rabble pushed their way past the dwarves and nobles with the intention to break in and drag out Stennis so as to dispense their brand of justice.

"Stop this at once!" Aemma calls out, drawing her sword. "We've wait enough!" the man Kaltan exclaims, "we want justice! Bring out the prince!" "Vergen is not a cesspit for anyone to shit in," Geralt scolds, "There are laws to abide and uphold. Any fool can prejudge and condemn. It's easier to accuse then to provide guilt."

"A peasant servant claims that Prince Stennis supposedly attempted to kill Saskia," one of the nobles points out, "Why would the prince do such a dastardly deed? Bear in mind how eminent is his lineage!" Aemma held her tongue in this moment as the nobles and the common folk bickered among one another of Stennis' innocence; no matter how renown Stennis' bloodline is, that wouldn't stop him from doing something so villainous; Aemma also thought about how Stennis was determined to prove he was worthy to sit the throne of Aedirn as the next king. If he was desperate enough, it wouldn't have been so far-fetched if he thought to poison Saskia with the intention of saving her life at the last moment, making him a hero in the eyes of the common folk in the process.

This was still speculation; if Aemma were to convey that theory outright, evidence would be demanded of her, and she was certain what little she could garner from Stennis' past with her powers may not suffice.

As if on cue, Stennis walked out of the house, determination written on his countenance, "Your Highness, this is dangerous," the noble warns. "I am not afraid. Fear is a commoner's trait, unfit for one with royal blood running in his veins," Stennis assures, "What do you want? To judge me? Is a prince a common thief who steals a dozen eggs at the market? You stand before royal majesty! And you raise your hands against it! In this world, there are crimes that can be forgiven, and there are crimes that, by any means, cannot. Just as a mother killing her own child or a man slitting his own brother's throat cannot be forgiven. A crime against one anointed by the gods also cannot be condoned! He who raises a hand against divine right is not worthy to walk this world."

"And what about he who poisons the Virgin of Aedirn?" Kaltan sneers. "Firstly, Saskia is alive, so no one can blame me for her death," Stennis points out, "Secondly, you have no proof that it was I who tried to murder her! And thirdly, I assure all who gather here I won't rise above the law. However, only she, the Virgin of Aedirn can judge me." "Canny! And if Saskia won't get well, who's gonna judge you?"

"What of Saskia's heir?" one dwarf speaks up, nodding towards Aemma, "surely she holds the power to judge Stennis where he stands." "Oh uh, I suppose..." Aemma felt herself go pale; she may have been named Saskia's heir and knew how to fight with a sword and possess special powers, but what did she know of being judge, jury, and executioner?

"I've no doubt Princess Aemma would be sufficient in passing judgement on her own in the future," Stennis speaks up, "however, as it stands, she is young, and still has much to learn in matters of ruling. I on the other hand am the one you should to for guidance. Let my deeds be the flame that lights up your darkness." "Spoken like a true sovereign," the one noble declares.

Aemma felt herself fuming, realizing Stennis was trying to upstage her and talk down over her before she could even get a word in edgewise. Geralt was about to speak up, but Aemma beat the witcher to it, "Prince Stennis, you are accused of poisoning Saskia. There is credible evidence against you, however speculative it is, it is sufficient enough to hold should there be a trial." "Pfft, hearsay, empty words," Stennis sneers, "no credible witnesses or physical evidence." "There's Saskia chalice, and the wine she drank that can be analyzed for poison," Aemma points out, "And the dwarf who made the chalice, and the servant who served the wine." "And just where is this servant who suddenly spoke out?" the noble supporting Stennis points out.

"Hold!" Ivan's voice breaks through the crowd. The knight in question pushes through with a servant in bonds and presenting the person to Aemma, "the servant who served the wine," Ivan announces placing a knife against the servant's back, "tell them all what you know." "...I served the wine to Saskia," the servant answers, "before that, I laced the poison onto the chalice, the same poison...that was given to me by Prince Stennis."

"He lies!" Stennis was to quick to deny. The mob suddenly jeered and erupted in fits of rage, calling for Stennis to be hanged. "Enough!" Geralt silences the crowd with his booming voice, "The prince has a right to a fair trial, no matter if he is guilty or not. We can't deny him that."

The noble turned to the princess, "What say you, Silverlark?"

Aemma, realizing the noble addressed her by the name she used to introduce herself to Saskia. She turned to Stennis, a certain look in her eye, "take Prince Stennis to the dungeon. He will remain there until a trial is set. If he is found guilty...he will be sentenced to death by beheading." Two of the dwarves apprehend Stennis and escort him to the dungeons. "Ser Ivan, have the servant placed in the house and set guards in place to guarantee his protection. We need him alive, he is key witness for the trial." "At once, princess," Ivan nods.

While some of the crowd booed at jeered at Stennis, others looked towards Aemma, a sense of adoration in their eyes. "Silverlark has proved she is a capable heir," the noble announces, "one who cares of justice. You are to be commended for this." "Thank you," Aemma nods, her voice not quite matching her confidence, or her lack of it. "Hail Silverlark!" a dwarf exclaimed, "Hail Saskia's heir!" Those who remained in the crowd cheered in agreement, "Silverlark! Silverlark! Silverlark!"

---------------------------

"The peasants are furious," Iorveth stated as he rejoined, "though it seems their ire has been tempered for the time being, part in thanks to the princess." "They hadn't mount a frontal attack," Geralt points out. "But they won't forget about Stennis and won't forgive," the elf points back, "it'll remain that way until Saskia regains consciousness." "We still need royal blood," Aemma says.

"I thought you already donated a healthy amount," Iorveth says. "Turns out it was a little unstable for Phillipa's liking," Aemma admits, "it may make Saskia's condition worse then it is now. We need to find another donor for royal blood."

"Five quarts go to waste in the dwarven dungeon at the moment," Iorveth crosses his arms. "It's too risky getting anywhere near Stennis right now," Geralt points out, "not without enticing the mob."

"Who else can we go to?" Aemma asks. Geralt thinks on it before he makes his answer, "Henselt." "But isn't he-" "On the other side of the mist," Iorveth finishes for Aemma, "going through that fog is madness. Stealing Stennis would be easier." "No, Geralt is right," Aemma admits, "anything involving Stennis will cause a riot." Iorveth only growled in response, "I'm tired of the peasants and nobles barking. Saskia's the best leader I know, but she can't hope to beat Henselt's army with this rabble. Which is why I'm going to get reinforcements. Four Scoia'tel units await in hiding in the east. Time to summon them."

"You will make it in time?" Aemma asks. "I must," Iorveth says with determination before departing.

"How are we supposed to navigate the mist? Especially when it's crawling with those wraiths?" Aemma inquires of Geralt. "We'll need to consult Phillipa on that I'm afraid," Geralt answers. "Then we should go speak with her."

"You did well," Geralt says to Aemma as they walk in that direction, "the leading I mean." "Some leader I turned out to be," Aemma scoffs. "They listened to you," the witcher points out, "the nobles and the peasants when you gave out your orders." "But not before some of them tried to speak over me before Ivan produced the servant," Aemma says, "before that, Stennis tried to upstage me and insist he was most fit to lead, more so than me. He probably was...and I think some of the people might know that. He was right about one thing. I am young...and I don't know anything about leading or ruling. I never imagined I would ever have been in such a position."

"You are young," Geralt agrees, "but you have potential. Given time, and with the right guidance, that potential can be nurtured. You don't run before you learn to walk."

Aemma thought on those words, thinking about how much she had to learn about sword wielding and monster fighting. She had the potential, but it had to be nurtured by the right teacher, which she had found in Vesemir. Maybe if she stayed here after this, after fulfilling her quest and rescuing her mother, maybe she could learn from Saskia and become the leader these people would someday need when the time came.

--------------------------

Geralt and Aemma walked over to where Phillipa was staying and presumably working on starting the antidote for Saskia. Geralt was about to knock on the door but stopped in his tracks.

"What's the holdup?" Aemma questions. "I...I don't think Phillipa is ready for us just yet," Geralt tells her, making Aemma frown a bit at that cryptic statement. "What are you talking about, surely she's been expecting us, we are still trying to save Saskia."

"Aemma I wouldn't-" Aemma ignores Geralt's warning and opens the door.

What Aemma saw, she didn't expect. Phillipa, a sheet wrapped around her naked body and riding crop in hand, was hard at work alright, but her sweat buildup was not from working on the antidote, but from using the crop on her assistant Cynthia who moaned in pleasure as Phillipa smack the crop against her backside.

The older sorceress stopped when she sensed the two weren't alone. She turned to face the princess and the witcher, no shame in her eyes whatsoever, but rather a sense of annoyance.

Flustered, Aemma stood there with her face red from embarrassment as Cynthia got up, not bothering to cover herself as she walked away to put her clothes back on. Geralt in contrast had more a smirk on his own face, though he did his best to mask it.

"I presume the two of you have come with news," Phillipa speaks up, placing a hand on her hip, and breaking the awkward silence. "Uh, I uh," was all Aemma managed to say, still flustered from what she just witnessed.

"I presume you've been working on the antidote," Geralt crosses his arms, "and locating Triss while you were at it." "I tried, I assure you," Phillipa answers, "but the mist disrupts the megascope. There's a weak signal nearby, probably on the other side." "In the Kaedwini camp?" Geralt asks to which Phillipa nods. "You'll have to pass through the mist." "There's no time then," Aemma says, shaking herself from her embarrassment, "how are we to accomplish this?"

"I'm continuously scanning the battlefield, I'll show the both of you through. I'll find you when you enter the mist." "What about Saskia?" Aemma asks. "She's still stable for now, I'm monitoring her vitals non-stop," Phillipa assures, "we still need royal blood if we are to save her life." "From Henselt," Geralt says. "We need his blood, NOT his death," Phillipa gives the witcher a certain look. "How many times do I have to say it, I'm NOT a kingslayer," Geralt exasperates.

"Okay, enough," Aemma interjects, "we're going. But if Saskia's condition does get worse, then please bring me back so I can give me blood again. I know you said it was unstable, but if it gets to the point where magic cannot keep Saskia breathing, we may not have any other choice." "Very well then," Phillipa states, "one more thing, Silverlark. The magic used to create the mist is powerful. Should it mix with your own when you lose control such as before, it may create a volatile reaction. This is a list of various incantations to keep your gift in check. Use it ONLY when it is necessary. Do you understand?"

Aemma nods in response.

"Good," the sorceress says.

"One other thing," Phillipa speaks up right as Aemma and Geralt walk out the door, "when searching the mist, upon reaching the Kaedwini camp, friends of yours from Flotsam were detected." "...what friends?" Aemma frowns a bit. "The older knight that came with Ser Ivan, Criston Cole I believe is his name," Phillipa answers, "he was spotted with Vernon Roche and his Blue Stripes, as was the other one, the young handsome looking prince with the long silver blonde hair, discernible cheek bones...and an eye patch."

"...Aemond..."

Chapter 48

#the witcher #house of the dragon #hotd #geralt of rivia #oc #jaskier #phillipa eilhart #iorveth #saskia

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