#zoltan x eredin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

merlot-and-chardonnay · 5 months ago

Text

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 51

Masterlist

Chapter 50

Just a heads up, I plan to incorporate a couple scenes from the Lady of the Lake novel from the Witcher book series in this chapter. Which if you're not familiar with the books, that was when Ciri was in the realm of the Alders against her will and....long story short she was kinda sorta blackmailed/coerced by Avallac'h into sleeping with the late king Auberon with the hopes of producing a child with the Elder Gene. Obviously that never came to pass and Auberon passed with Eredin taking up the mantel as king.

I'm mentioning that here as a content warning for DUBCON in those sequences.

------------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 ciphoned 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 the 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 to 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 Aemma had persuaded the mob to spare Stennis so he would have a fair trial, so 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 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 cold. I mean, yeah it is cold, he's flying in the sky on a dragon not a damn airplane, 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 then 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 at 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 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 make 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, a lot more slender looking. Aemma thought back to the elves she encountered in her recent vision, Eredin and Caranthir, 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 eyes. Grey, aglazed, almost as if he'd been taking fisshtech recently. This elf had a young man's body...but his eyes made look old, 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 and 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 has 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 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 it keeps connecting me to Ciri! WHY AM I LIKE?!"

Aemma now 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, Phillipa having every intention to take the two to the Loc Muinne summit. Aemma could still remember Phillipa talking to her telepathetcally, 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 while 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