King's Landing

"System... is there a better method of strengthening my magic? A less destructive method, perhaps?"

"In the case of destructive-based magic such as Pyromancy and Aeromancy, you will have to continue using it in small and consistent bursts. Healing and Blood Magic have plenty of uses that are not destructive, the same case is with Necromancy."

"What of meditation?"

"It is a way of gathering the magic around you. It is a slow, yet beneficial process of increasing your magic vitality. The issue with your world, however, is that it has very little magic concentration... if any in certain places. Because of this, the method is not suggested. Unless... you have an object with its own magic with you."

"Which I do."

"The Tome of Hematomancy... be wary of it. The ambitious spirit within it is a mighty being capable of corrupting and... after some time, even possessing the user completely. However, if you manage to tame the spirit, then you will grow in magic ability at an extraordinary rate."

Aerion frowned as the information struck him.

"How likely is the latter?"

"In your current situation... it is unfavourable, even with your immense willpower put into account. More specifically, I've calculated that your chance of success is just about forty percent."

Aerion took note of the information before opening his eyes. After some thought, he stood up and grabbed the Tome of Hematomancy from his desk. The tome glowed with a luscious light once again, inviting him to use it.

He flipped it open and attempted to meditate for the first time.

His pride and lack of fear drove him to do so, accepting the Tome of Hematomancy as a trial of its own. Though, unfortunately, he had no idea how to absorb magic from a tome. It was then that the voice of the spirit spoke to him.

"To think that you would be this incapable... but I suppose that it would only be fair to reward you for providing me with a satisfactory amount of blood."

A stream of crimson magic was released from the tome and flowed into Aerion, adding to his magic vitality considerably within a short period of time.

"Is that all you have?" He wondered, bargaining for a little more.

"Mortals and their ever-growing greed..."

The spirit harshly rejected his request with a disappointed tone.

'Mortals...?'

"As you seek more blood, I seek greater power," Aerion replied, smiling slightly. "... I find it quite hypocritical that someone with such an absurd thirst for blood labels me as greedy."

"... What good will mocking me do for you?"

"I would ask the same question to you. As the owner of the tome that you are restrained to, I don't believe insulting me is an excellent idea. I have the ability to burn the tome, throw it into the bottom of the sea or seal it underground... among many other things."

"However, if you do prove to be useful, obedient and loyal in the long-term, I won't have a reason to commit any of those acts. What do you think, spirit?"

"Go on... try to burn the tome. Better yet, throw it away. You will realise how hopeless your attempts at threatening me truly are."

'Is the spirit bluffing?'

"No, that is the truth." The system confirmed. "The tome will inevitably find itself in the hands of another if you put it away and it will remain unscathed from any attack that you may unleash."

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

Aerion chuckled, deciding to change his approach. "I can still prevent you from attaining any more blood... but that wouldn't benefit either of us."

In the end, he used his golden tongue to come upon a mutual agreement with the spirit along with a greater understanding.

~

Late 296 AC, ten days after landing in Volantis.

Jaime Lannister's blessing became more apparent as the days passed, with all of his physical attributes showing significant growth. He was faster, stronger and had a greater amount of stamina than ever before. Aerion had realised that he was, once again, unable to match Jaime in a duel without the use of magic. Meanwhile, Arthur Dayne's magic vitality and understanding of both Necromancy and Pyromancy continued to steadily grow.

Aerion had spent most of his hours practising magic and testing the boundaries of a Grandmaster. His understanding of blood magic had grown greatly during this period of time, far swifter than any other. More precisely, he reached the Grandmaster stage of blood magic under the spirit's guidance and broke past the eighty magic vitality mark.

As much as he would've liked to continue, there was a battle to be fought and a rebellion to crush. So, naturally, he prepared for the occasion. The Soul King's gauntlets, the World Sovereign's boots and light yet durable black plate armour was forged to complete the set.

Before leaving the city of Volantis, he bid his mother and Daenerys farewell. The thought of having his mother face Lyanna... it would not take a genius to figure out what would happen. Though, he came to realise that such a meeting was inevitable... and he was only delaying it. Even so, delaying it wasn't so bad since the circumstances at this current moment could be better. On the other hand, he left Daenerys so that she could continue her duty as Princess of Volantis and provide company for his mother.

~

Late 296 AC, Dragonstone.

The largest navy in the Known World was afloat the surrounding waters of Dragonstone, consisting of war galleys made from Braavos' Arsenal to the ships from Volantis and the rest of the Cities. Despite being from different lands, each and every ship was united as one with the banner of House Targaryen flying on every sail. A thin and foreboding veil of fog shrouded the sky, resulting in a very grey morning sky. However, there were rays of beautiful light further beyond.

A massive ghastly emerald dragon dashed across the sky before slowing down and landing in one of Dragonstone's large courtyards. In the days of dragons, these courtyards were used often... but they had lost that purpose over a century ago. Until now, of course.

"Could you have flown any faster?" Jocelyn inquired in a sarcastic tone. "I almost fell off!"

Aerion glanced at her and smiled. "I told you to hold tight."

Within a few seconds, several guards rushed into the courtyard to investigate what in Seven Hells was that thing in the sky. Well, upon closer observation, they realised that it was a beast that the known world hadn't known for a very long time... although, unlike those dragons, this dragon looked more like a ghost.

And a ghost it was, dispersing into the sky as if it had never existed in the first place. The group of people atop the dragon were all on their feet by then. Among the group was the most famed figure in the Known World, the Emperor of the Valyrian Empire himself.

"His Grace... has arrived!"

Vermithor glanced at Aerion before spreading his wings and ascending to the grey skies on his own.

"We are blessed to have you arrive at this time, Your Grace..." One of the guards muttered as he tried to comprehend what he had witnessed. "Was that a dragon? And the bigger one... what was that?"

"You needn't concern yourself with that at the moment." Aerion swiftly replied as he changed the subject. "Is Lord Stannis in the castle?"

"Yes... he is, Your Grace. I can lead you directly to him if you wish."

"Go ahead."

...

After some walking, they reached the Chamber of the Painted Table. Aerion and his Kingsguard entered the chamber while the rest were led to a dining hall by several Soul Knights.

"I did not expect a visit from you, My Lord."

"How could I miss the final storm of King's Landing?"

Aerion asked a question that didn't need answering as he observed the rather large and detailed painted table representing Westeros. It was the very same painted table that Aegon the Conqueror had used to plan his invasion of Westeros three centuries prior.

"Lord Stannis, I want you to sail my navy, save for a few ships, to Lannisport and occupy it until I arrive. If there are any Ironborn present in the Westerlands, whether in nearby lands or seas, I want you to dispatch them immediately without remorse. Oh... and do not strike Castarly Rock. Leave Lord Tywin to my judgement. Apart from that, you may do as you wish."

"What of King's Landing?"

"The name of the foul city says it all."

Aerion smiled, almost itching to shatter another gate. But... perhaps, such barbaric tactics weren't going to be necessary this time around.

~

Late 296 AC, King's Landing. A wonderful afternoon.

Three ships, all bearing the white flag of negotiation along with the banner of House Targaryen, sailed directly towards the River Gate of King's Landing. Naturally, this was a cause for evacuation. The people went inside of the River Gate and into King's Landing, abandoning their plans for the day. The outside of the River Gate was empty as Aerion set foot onto the shore.

He looked up at the wall and saw dozens... no hundreds of stationed archers just waiting for the order to fire their arrows. To Aerion, this simple sight was no more than a child with a wooden sword threatening to stab him (anywhere but the sacred region, of course).

Right beside him was Princess Jocelyn, which made the garrison hesitate.

"If you weren't here... do you think that they would have already fired?" Aerion inquired, although he knew the answer already.

"There would have to be at least one among them seeking glory," Jocelyn replied.

"That is correct." Aerion nodded. "In this situation, a white flag means very little. Imagine being the man who shot the great Emperor Aerion of House Targaryen dead and ended his schemes of retaking what was rightfully his.... oh, that doesn't sound right."

"Return Princess Jocelyn to her rightful place at once!"

The lord commander of the Gold Cloaks shouted as loudly as he could. He tried to sound as brave as he could... though, deep down, he knew and thought of all of the stories surrounding the person below him. Hell, he had been present when Aerion broke down the River Gate.

"Only then will you have the opportunity to negotiate."

"Sounds fair..." Aerion nodded. "Surrender my most valuable asset to you and then start negotiations..."

Aerion laughed a little before his expression turned hot with fury.

"Do you take your Rightful King for a fool!?"

"Are you blind, Emperor of another land?" The lord commander countered. "We can fire on you at any moment. Three hundred of my men... and more if need be! Forget about the talk of negotiating, you are at our, the gold cloak's, mercy."

'The gold cloak's mercy? One dragon and all of these fools will be running as far away from the wall as they can.'

Aerion smiled slightly as he spread open his arms.

"Go on then... I dare you to fire. Remember, if one of your gold cloaks happen to fire in the wrong direction, the innocent Jocelyn will have to pay the price."

The lord commander looked at his men before preparing to aim his arrow. "I will not miss."

"Hold!" Jocelyn commanded.

Aerion turned to her in slight surprise. He was perfectly ready to send the arrow back and cancel his attempts of negotiation, slaying the city watch once more in the process.

"Is the inside of your head hollow, lord commander? This is Aerion of House Targaryen, the Stormcaller. What you are doing is dragging your men to the grave needlessly like a fool!"

'I couldn't have said that better myself...'

"But His Grace wants this dragonspawn dead!" The lord commander countered. "It is our duty to protect King's Landing and we will follow it until the end, even if it leads to our deaths!"

"I believe that is what the last set of gold cloaks believed... why are you so intent on joining them? You will only be repeating the events of the past."

"It seems that he has corrupted your mind, like the rest of the devils who serve him. No matter, we will return you to a healthy state of mind once he dies!" The lord commander aimed his arrow once more.

Aerion sighed as wind began to form at his feet. The World Sovereign's boots' runes glowed in turn, activating its magical properties.

"Halt!" This time a more mature voice halted the lord commander. He turned to see none other than the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Lyanna Baratheon (-Stark).

"Your Grace... please, do not intervene. By killing him, most of the troubles relating to House Targaryen will be erased immediately and His Grace will no longer have to fret about them."

"Do you have any honour?" Lyanna glanced at the white flags before turning to the lord commander of the gold cloaks. "Better yet, do you believe that Aerion of House Targaryen would come to you unarmed and without a plan?"

"... Well." The lord commander cleared his throat as he looked at Aerion, who remained confident throughout the exchange.

"I swear... to Old Gods and the New, that if you open the gate for Jocelyn and I, none of those frightening men will have a reason to storm the city." Aerion proposed to Lyanna, who seemed to have some intelligence. "Then, once inside, we may begin negotiations."

"I find that a suitable arrangement. Lord commander, order your men to open the gate."

"I..."

"Or you will be swiftly replaced."

"Open the gate!" He sighed after giving the order. Although, he was relieved in secret.

"Do you think that your mother will have the gold cloaks surround me in the city?" Aerion wondered as he stepped forward.

"Even if she does, would you have anything to fear?"

"Not at all."

He chuckled.

'At least, the poor River Gate will not have to be shattered this time.'