20 Magic and morality

A/N: 4.37k words for this chapter! I finally started feeling good again today, I freaking hate being sick, alas, it happens for all of us. Managed to squeeze out this chapter, and I hope you like it :)

A lot of the magic of the universe is explored briefly. Moral questions are raised and so forth.

29.67k/40k words - Deadline: 6/11-22 at 10 pm CET. (Shit! 10.33k behind with only 15 minutes to go!)

Enjoy!

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Winterfell - 289 AC a moon later

POV | Aegon Targaryen

'It took me a moon! An entire moon! Two hundred and forty hours of studying and working to learn how to utilize First Men runes! Ugh, such freaking bullshit! I feel like I'll literally throw up runes at some point. I'm not even done with all the possible combinations either!'

It had been a gruelling thirty days of eight hours of studying, as well as training and everything else. The knowledge was not something Aegon could just leave undigested though, he would absolutely loathe himself if he found out he could have changed a situation for the better, if only he had applied a possible powerup that he had left unattended.

'The diversity of these runes is absolutely insane though. It's not all-powerful, at all, but combining these small sums into a whole can allow men to build things like The Wall and Winterfell. If only Brandon had known about modern toilets, then life here would have been even better. That really shows that magic is mainly limited by the minds of their users… Sums of old and new… King of Beasts…'

That was another thing he had on his mind for the last moon. The cryptic words he had heard in the crypt, ironically enough. It honestly sounded like prophecy stuff to him and knowing that he was sent here to become the Prince That was Promised, made him take that shit seriously.

He figured that he had become the sum of old and new with his futuristic ideas from the second memory-set and his knowledge gained by Brandon's bestowal of pain, misery, a nice dream, and magic. Oh, and to honour his promise to Rhaenys, he had sent out RR#51-100 out with Munin to search for and recruit. 'Bully.' Some fast and cool birds into joining him.

'I should have just done this from the beginning. Sending a conspiracy out to find more companions should have been obvious in hindsight. It's not like I can find all new members personally. I didn't even bother naming the Ravens in the conspiracies of Hugin and Munin after all. Though naming a hundred ravens would have been sort of tedious.'

Whilst Aegon's ravens were up to no good as his official spy corps, Mimir had been anointed as the leader of his feathery special corps. He was the only member for now, but that did not mean his work was any less beneficial.

He had already assassinated several vile dogs after all, and his mission would remain as so for now. Aegon had even given him a loot pouch to store the coins and valuables he could from the bandits and outlaws he managed to kill in the night.

'No wonder The Valyrians did not conquer the entire world despite having a force of more than 300 dragons. No one wants to fight people who can bend the minds of animals and have them kill for you. Warging is severely underestimated. Or at least it was by me.'

Despite his many new revelations, he had also discovered several limitations. In all honesty he should have expected it though. Since his uncle left he had done many things to test his warging powers, but it was only through the knowledge gained from Brandon that he truly knew what limited him.

He had tried to assassinate Roose Bolton. 'Him dying early would prevent all his excursions of claiming the first night and allow his poor wife some peace with her only son. Besides, he is a dangerous man and his influence on Domeric would do no one any good. The fact that Dom doesn't even like him is important as well.'

Alas, he had failed miserably, and only through runes did he find out that he could not kill lords through warging if they were believers of the Old Gods. The runes in most castles prevented animals with human influence from directly hurting someone within. 'Which makes a lot of sense with how long these people survived against Warg Kings.'

Many of the things Aegon had learned since he arrived here on Planetos seemed to show him one thing consecutively. This world used to be 'High Fantasy' as some referred to it in his extra set of memories. Shadow monsters, Hellhounds, Dragons of Ice, Fire, and Water, Leviathans, Wyverns, Shadowcats, Krakens, and numerous other magical beasts were all mentioned in the bestiaries he had read.

That was not to mention all the magical branches that he had hounded Maester Luwin on during his visit here. 'The man has a chain of Valyrian Steel, I'd be a moron not to abuse his knowledge on the arcane, especially after all the things I've learned.'

What a ride that had been for him. The insane amount of different magical aspects had honestly surprised him. He had known of a few from the show and the books, but only knowing of a few was basically useless, if some random powerhouse could snuff him out because he felt himself assured in his knowledge that was in fact severely limited.

Maester Luwin had first and foremost told him of Shadowbinders. A practitioner of magic who binds shadows to their will. 'Now isn't that some Sung-Drip-Woo level bullshit?' Not that Aegon had not styled some of his physique after the Shadow Monarch. Looking like a god meant he had to be built like one as well.

Anyway, these Shadowbinders could do a lot of super dangerous things. They could be impregnated by a man of a kingly or otherwise considerable bloodline and create literal shadow assassins who can kill anyone they want. Period. Depending on the blood sacrificed, they can even kill multiple targets!

'Too OP, pls. nerf.' One would then ask, what are the only known ways to kill them. Hire a red priest or priestess. 'Now isn't that convenient? At least I know Valyrian Steel and Star Steel can slay them as well. Magical fire should be capable too. Anything forged by Magic and Fire.'

If a Shadowbinder cannot birth little demon babies because they happen to be a man, then they can just breed them into women of powerful bloodlines and force them to breed them. 'At least that dependency on kidnapping noblewomen and waiting for their pregnancy means that male Shadowbinders are incredibly rare. Those who exist, tend to excel in other aspects of their magic.

The less mentioned and less believed aspects of their magic hovered around shadow messengers, illusions, sacrifice, blood, and death. 'All the good stuff. I am also literally hundreds of years behind some of the strongest practitioners of shadowbinding like Melisandre and Quaithe, especially if the theories of Melisandre being older than the Doom hold true and if Quaithe truly is a disguised Shiera Seastar.'

Heck, even that maegi who cursed Drogo and Rhaego was a blood maegi and a Shadowbinder. This shows that one type of magic does not exclude one from learning another.

Blood magic was a branch that Aegon was slightly ambivalent about. Unlike shadowbinding it could be used for good. He had practiced a bunch of it himself after all, and he knew about tonnes of rituals benign and gruesome, who were based on blood.

'My ancestors' entire empire was based on it, after all. The Targaryen's might have taken the words as their own after the Doom, but Fire and Blood or 'Perzys ânogâr' was a standard High Valyrian greeting used between Dragonlords. A constant reminder of the foundations of Valyria.'

The downside and cruelty of blood sorcery was not lost on him, however. The Valyrians might have turned themselves into a race of super soldiers, but the amount of sacrifices needed for that filled Aegon's mouth with bile. 'The unnatural hair and eyes… It's like they are a counterpart to The Others. Forced to strengthen themselves through blood magic in order to reach equal strength.'

Aegon had already tossed out all preconceptions from the show out the metaphorical window. The Night King would not be killed by a girl with a dagger. Especially not a Night King who is surrounded by Others and not locked in the kind of combat where a second of inattention could result in death. He wanted to curse the audacity of the show writers for turning these creatures into discount zombies, but he could not really curse them all the way from Planetos. Yet.

No, Aegon had taken to study the ancient history of the world through Castle Black and now Winterfell, and more and more seemed to point towards The Others being an entirely different beings of a sapient race that hated warmth, fire, and blood.

Basically, all the living. Even a Night Queen of unnatural beauty was mentioned to have married a Lord Commander of The Night's Watch after she had grown bored with the Night King for a time. 'Such a delightful world where even godlike entities get cucked by promiscuous wives. Way to fire up my trust issues.'

Regarding fire. That was under another branch of magic. Elemental control. 'That fucking god said I could not get it! Then he sends me into a world with Pyromancers, Hydromancers, Aeromancers, and an entire undead race of beings capable of Cryokinesis! At least my Pyrokinesis is coming along nicely. If only I knew what I was lacking to reach a new threshold. I hope a dragon will be enough…'

Other magics included things he understood and knew a lot more about, fortunately. Greensight and other sorts of Divination, Skinchanging, Necromancy and Illusions created through a combination of lightbending and shadowbinding.

'Again. This shit is turning High Fantasy, and I need to stay ahead of the curve. The Valyrians crushed the Rhoynar with a force of 300 grown dragons, after the Rhoynar had defended themselves for more than two and a half centuries. During the First Turtle War, the Water Mages even managed to flood half of Volon Therys, a city larger than Oldtown and Kings Landing!'

He looked down at the beautiful glistening golden egg in his hands. An egg that had been growing warmer and richer in magic since he dug it out of the Crypt less than a moon ago. "I know little one, I want to meet you too! More than anything." He whispered fondly as he felt the egg pulse in his hands.

He had found a cluster of four eggs in total, Cregan Stark was an even better negotiator than he had dared hope for. All four eggs had survived, but by the Aegon could see in them, he had quickly decided that only the golden one would be his mount. It was almost as if it had been feeding off of the magic of the others.

Whilst he was not sure on the exact science of it, it did make a lot of sense in an evolutionary sense that some Dragons were just born different. Balerion was the largest Dragon the Targaryens had ever mounted in the known history of their house, and if one was to believe his ancestors, then it was the biggest dragon ever.

'I don't believe that for a second. Two Valyrian Steel swords and almost no actual magical equipment and texts, yet they still try to act like they were hot shit. House Targaryen was most likely one of the weakest of the 40 Dragonlord families, or they sold most of their wealth to acquire Balerion. No way they didn't have some way to measure the potential of a Dragon before it hatched.'

Given how no normal economy could function if everyone wasted their labour hours and technological advancements in the same field, the most likely scenario would be that some families specialized in building, some in spell craft, breeding of dragons, blacksmithing, and so forth. The Targaryens were probably just lucky that they could ride Dragons. 'The Dragon Dreams might have been one of our main hereditary traits too…'

All in all, he was quite sure that his golden friend here might turn out to be as large or even larger than Balerion ever was. He was not convinced on letting the other three hatch at all either. Whilst more dragons could be a boon, he did not want weak ones like Viserion or similar, and he was afraid that the other three would be exactly that.

Having weak Dragons would all in all just make them easier targets whenever they were not within his sphere of influence, and with his new appreciation of the magic on Planetos, he was not keen on letting them out of his sight if they were weak of mind and magic.

'Whether I can afford to awaken magic yet, is the true question. I need to craft and enchant so many things first.'

He gazed at the egg and his eyes were filled with sorrow. He whispered. "I'm sorry that I am still unable to protect you now. Soon. I promise."

His eyes flashed white as he looked through the eyes of his ravens. He sat still like a stone statue as he tried to look through as many scenarios as possible. Every single image that hit him filled him with wrath and sorrow. 'Do these creatures deserve to live? Why are they still allowed to rule anything?'

So many small villages had been burned and pillaged. Men lay dying before their broken daughters, sisters, wives, and mothers. His vision shifted away from the ravens in the Riverlands and back to the coasts of the North.

Not much was actually happening here except for four longships inching closer to the Bear Islands. They were approximately two to three days from reaching their destination. He listened in to their conversation.

"Hahaha lads! We'll soon steal us some strong salt wives, whilst the other idiots get fucked by the Stag King. I swear to the Drowned God, Balon is a moron."

"Aye Aye! I hear the She Bears breed strong little beasts. Hopefully better than the weak trash my other two salt wives have given."

"Ha you fucken' bastard. Yer kids are trash, because you's trash!"

The sailors laughed uproariously at the jape whilst the one insulted looked about to explode. "I'll seduce your sister and make her my rock wife. Then let's see if you can still jape."

"Fuck ye! Even if ye make ma sista heavy wih child, it's still trash. My good blood can't even save the child from the trash of you's."

Their mood was jovial as the two started wrestling on deck, planning, and riling themselves up before they were about to enslave and rape women as if their worth and feelings were meaningless. None of the hundred men planning the attack seemed to care a wilt for what they were about to do.

The disregard of freedom, rights, and life. The callous behaviour, the culture of these men that justified it. Their continued existence despite of their morality. The fact that none had ever considered actually wiping them out. Except for maybe Tywin Lannister after they burned his newly acquired fleet.

'I have always known that they exist… I've just ignored it. They did not bother me, so why should I care? I barely know the Mormonts either, except for Jeor, Dacey, and Alysane, and the last two I've only met briefly during the Harvest Feasts.'

He was unsure of whether he actually cared for them, but then again. When had that ever stopped him from saving others? 'Why do I care? Aren't the Ironborn just products of their upbringing? Shouldn't I try to save all of them, rehabilitate them?'

His thoughts were running miles a minute. His morality crashing with his practicality. Twentynine years of memories playing with right and wrong. 'Right and wrong on earth… Right and wrong on Planetos…'

That thought kept hitting him. 'Right and wrong on earth.'

A planet where right and wrong had been developed and used to suppress the common folk to a point where the rich and influential could get away with anything they wanted. 'Genocide, surveillance, epidemics, slavery, debt-slavery, the Geneva Conventions that had been turned into Suggestions after decades of being broken.'

His body started shaking lightly as he truly digested the cruelty of both worlds.

'It all comes down to power, doesn't it? The 'morally wrong' just happened to lose, didn't they? So many condemned, so many killed. Kings, Lords, Religion, Merchants, Politicians, and Leaders in general. Power.'

He looked toward the sky. The slight breeze tussled his black locks around his slightly tanned skin as his purple eyes gained a glint it had lacked before.

'A cruel man once said: There is no good and evil. Only power, and those too weak to seek it. Euron Greyjoy was willing to sacrifice men, women, children, innocents, and supposedly even his own eye for power… Power used for evil. Chaos. What am I even supposed to do against that? Throw morals at him and turn him away from his evil ways with my Talk-no-Jutsu?'

He laughed a mirthless laugh. Hollow was the sound that escaped the Dragon Prince. "No." his voice was icy, and his eyes cold. His visage grimmer than the statues in The Crypt of Winter Kings.

Aegon stood up slowly. He did not notice the tear tracks on his cheeks, the people trembling as they moved away from his path or the animals stopping and bowing as he moved towards Fenris to saddle him. Freya, Hel, Freke, and Gere were unnaturally sombre, as their brother and father moved through the motions.

The normally haughty Queens of his pack were obediently waiting for him to finish. They knew their Freedom was because of his love for them, his protection and care gave them everything they had. Their loyalty towards Aegon was unquestionable, and whilst they would normally allow their playful natures to tease him, they knew the time for that behaviour was not now.

The young Freke and Gere were serious as well. Their red eyes taking in the stoic face of their Father. A face that neither of them liked. A face they hoped to never see on their caring human. Alas, even their playful behaviour was put on hold. They would be on the hunt soon.

His adept hands needed but a few minutes before he was sitting on his stalwart son, ready for departure.

Mimir swooped from the skies and land on his right shoulder. The owls had grown considerably since he had saved it, the black feathers darker, and the amber eyes glowing maliciously as it felt the aura of its leader.

"Jon! Where are you going?! You can't just leave for the Wall before telling us!"

"Brother, what's wrong?"

"Jon, are you okay?"

The concerned voices of Robb, Sansa, and Domeric did not deter him. He looked at them, with a dispassionate gaze. His mindset far from the ideal for talking to those who care for him.

They flinched back as they met his cold gaze, Robb and Domeric were shocked, and Sansa started tearing up at the aura and look from her brother. She had never seen him like this. He had always been the warm and doting brother who would never deny her whims, no matter how annoying the other boys found them. This was not the brother she loved and adored.

He turned Fenris around and as the powerful Hellhound started trotting away, they finally received a semblance of an answer.

"I'm going to hunt." An eery laugh escaped him that sent shivers down every single human and animal withing hearing range.

The mournful sounds of the great beasts who left with him, seemed to make even the skies above them darken, as clouds blocked the sun from illuminating Winterfell.

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Norvos | 289 AC

POV | Viserys Targaryen

They had been treated like dirt for two years now, and the three and ten name day dragon prince did not know what to do about it. He had been taught a few truths during his relatively short life. His father had taught him that he was a Dragon. Dragons ruled over lesser men, yet why did these lesser men not follow his commands?

Viserys did not know.

He had been crowned as the King of the Seven Kingdoms by his mother when his father and brother were killed by the vile Usurper, and he had been told by Ser Willem, that he still had supporters in Westeros, who were hoping for his return to the Throne. If that was the case… Then why did none of these men help him?

He looked at the sleeping form of his little sister. Why she was giggling in her sleep, he did not know either… He could feel his rage building at all the unanswered questions. He had been given until the morn to leave from the room of the manse they had lived in for the last fortnight.

The smallest manse of the Free City. They had initially been welcomed warmly by the leader of the council of magisters as proper Royals, but they had been discarded like trash after less than a moon. Every nobleman and merchant had since given stay out of greed, pity, or a combination of both.

The unfortunate fact was that none would allow them to stay. 'Some were even kind, like… family.'

Viserys cried bitter tears as he reminisced the last family they had stayed with. A family consisting of an elderly noble and his lady wife had been gentle, and for a sweet time, Viserys had almost forgotten what his life was meant for.

The two Targaryens had been almost adopted by the family, but the elderly pair had died a bloody death due to the Usurper's assassins. A death that had been meant for the last remnants of the Dragonlords.

"I'll gut him and his bitch queen the same way they killed them." He sobbed as he swore vengeance in his heart.

Unfortunately, the two Targaryens had been made scapegoats by a merchant who wanted the business of the elderly pair. Letting the Usurper take the blame and painting the Targaryens as undesirables in the wake of the assassinations was inconsequential in his games. He had let children die and be enslaved for silver. Such was the game of the wealthy.

One last poor family had decided to shield them for a fortnight until they finally realized that there was no value to squeeze out of the two orphans, thus they allowed them one last kindness by not selling them into slavery.

'Everything I do holds no purpose. Even that bitch wife of Doran Martell, did not help her rightful King! I even offered her daughter my hand in marriage, but she still threw me out like a dog. She would not even set me into contact with him!'

The spite in Viserys' heart had grown through his continuous failures from Bravos to Lorath, and now Norvos. 'Not a single one of these peasants can see the greater picture. I AM KING OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS!'

Untold riches and power were his birth right. These ants needed just give him a small amount of power, and he would be grateful enough to reward them with gold and land. 'Not like the Westerlands, Stormlands, Vale, Riverlands, or North would keep their Lord Paramount when I am done with them.'

The lesser men of the Free cities were a bitter disappointment to him, but Viserys was the better man… 'I am a Dragon; I will soar above these pitiful fools and travel to Volantis and Lys. Surely they will be prepared to help the rightful King. The Targaryens have been kind to them, and now it is time for them to return the favour.'

He grabbed the small sachet he received by one of the nobles. He did not even bother to remember his name, since the man had not been willing to help regardless. The sachet looked a tad queer, but he followed the instructions and took a small sniff.

Slowly an eery silence filled his mind. All the tumults of his life escaped him, as he felt as if he was on a happy cloud, soaring through the world. Free from all his burdens. He didn't know how long he was sitting in pleasant silence, but he loved it.

Suddenly, the happiness left before every betrayal in his life started replaying throughout his mind repeatedly. He could feel it.

His anger was building slowly, and Viserys knew what that meant, he had seen when it happened to his father. 'They're waking the dragon.' The warmth filled his body pleasantly, and he giggled as he remembered the screams of pain he could hear from his father's throne room and his mother's chambers at night.

Colours, images, pleasure, and fire filled the young mind. He took another deep sniff from the sachet.

His mind regained clarity for a blissful amount of time, where he felt slight dread at what he had just laughed at only minutes prior. 'That was unnatural…'

He had never taken pleasure in hurting others, and the few memories he had of his mother's cries of pain had always filled him with dread. 'I don't want to feel that ever again!'

Every time those thought hit him; he kept sniffing the sachet as if a man possessed. Anything to regain his calm mindset. Alas, the potency disappeared with every whiff he took, and as he started rubbing it against his nose to keep calm, the effect seemed to lessen more and more.

'No. No! I don't want to remember!' He whimpered as screams of pain, glimpses of fire and claws on a demon with white hair and purple eyes seemed to haunt him.'

His whole body shivered after hours of continuous traumatic thoughts. He started scratching his arms rapidly, a wild look in his eyes.

His skin turned raw before his nails broke the thin layer and blood started dripping and flesh was ripped open, leaving pieces of skin stuck between his nails.

The blissful pain and shock blocking out the worst of his thoughts as the young prince started crying.

'I'll never touch that sachet again.'

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A/N: Sooo, this was slightly darker than the chapters until now... Somewhat of a turning point, maybe? Disneyland after Dark, if you know what I mean? xD

So. A lot of people have been bothered about Aegon's attitude. Something I agree on to some degree. It's all part of his development though. He has a lot of memories of a world with an entire set of values, and even though the original memories did not include feelings, his own feelings will still attach themselves to what he remembers. That's just how we work.

He is battling eternally, and that is sort of what you see in the prophecy from chapter 12 as well. That battle is a large part of his journey after all. Morality is such a fluid and interesting concept, after all ;)

Fun or not so fun fact. Viserys was actually an addict in ASOIAF. Kinda explains a lot of his behaviour if you think about it. Much more than the "He's just mad like his father."

See ya for the next chapter!