The White Dragon - Oaths and blood. (Patreon)

Rossana Vallens, the Red Keep – King’s Landing.

“Where are we, Aemon?” Rossana asked, wand in hand, walking through the corridors.

Aemon did not pause in his path, he continued walking through the halls with desperation, but it was more than evident that this place was not familiar to him at all.

“SHIT!!” her future husband snapped, more furious and desperate than she had ever seen him, as he took another path and continued running, to the annoyance of Rossana and Tonks.

Both witches followed him, but it was evident that they were not getting anywhere.

“AEMON STOP!!” the Italian witch shouted fiercely, grabbing her future husband by the shoulder.

Aemon looked at her, there was desperation in his eyes.

“What are you doing? I can’t waste time! I have to find her!” he shouted, completely beside himself.

Rossana’s response?

A slap across the face.

“GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF, AEMON TARGARYEN!” the witch shouted fiercely to make him react.

And although unorthodox, the strategy worked, Aemon shook his head quickly, before looking at Rossana and sighing.

“Thank you for that,” he said cautiously, now much calmer, but evidently worried.

“Now, dear, where are we?” Rossana asked, making it clear that she expected an answer immediately.

Aemon simply sighed, his eyes glassy and his gaze lost, while the screams of the city became more frequent.

“We are… we are in King’s Landing, the capital city of Westeros, and the one that was, for nearly three hundred years, the seat of power of House Targaryen,” Aemon said.

Both Tonks and Rossana nodded at those words, now able to understand Aemon’s reaction a bit better.

“But… the where is not what matters, but the when,” said the young sorcerer.

At those words, Rossana and Tonks looked at him with surprise.

“The when? What do you mean, Aemon?” the pink-haired witch asked.

The young prince did not respond for a long time, evidently lost in his thoughts, but after several seconds, Aemon simply sighed and looked his women in the eyes.

“The army attacking the city… is easily recognizable, the golden lion of House Lannister, a vassal family of the Targaryens, and in all the history of Westeros, they have only attacked King’s Landing once, the day they betrayed the house of the dragon in the name of the usurper, Robert Baratheon,” said Aemon.

Rossana and Tonks looked at each other without knowing what to say, it was evident that Aemon had not finished his story.

“Although tragic… that does not justify your uncontrolled reaction Aemon, this family will be punished as soon as we reach your home, nothing like extinguishing a family of traitors to begin your reign, dear,” said the Italian witch with determination, still not understanding her beloved’s reaction.

Aemon simply raised his gaze and smiled weakly.

“I know, but… that is not what matters, but… what happened that day—”

“What happened, Aemon?” Tonks asked, stepping forward and taking the young dragon’s face, a gesture of intimacy and total support that the young Lord needed.

Rossana watched as a thousand emotions passed through Aemon’s face, each more intense than the last, it was evident that her beloved was tormented by his thoughts.

“That day… the Lannisters attacked the Red Keep, this place, where the Targaryens ruled,” Aemon said with a sigh.

“My grandfather, King Aerys, was killed by his own protector, Jaime Lannister, while Princess Elia, my father’s wife and my sister, Princess Rhaenys… were—”

Aemon could not finish speaking, but it was not necessary, Rossana was not a fool and knew perfectly well what he meant.

In the end, the innocent are the ones who pay the consequences of war.

“I have to find them, as soon as possible,” he said with determination.

However, Rossana intervened fiercely.

“Control yourself, Aemon! And clear your mind!” she said, taking her beloved’s face with both hands, looking at him fixedly.

“We are in the Mausoleum of Blood, in Europe, not in Westeros, not in Vanaheim, all of this… is just an illusion, it is not real, everything is part of the trial,” Rossana said with confidence in her words.

At her side, Tonks nodded slowly.

“Rossana is right, Aemon, all of this is like Dragonstone in the first trial, it is not real, it is part of the illusion, and losing your calm will only make you fail,” said the former auror apprentice.

And apparently, the words of both witches seemed to have an effect on Aemon, who had calmed down considerably.

“You’re… you’re right, this… this is just a test,” said Aemon, as he inhaled deeply, calming his nerves.

Rossana observed how Aemon inhaled deeply while closing his eyes, forcing himself to relax in the face of the complicated situation.

And even then, there was tension in his jaw, as if part of him refused to let go of what he knew had already happened.

And the calmer the young dragon became, the more silent the fortress became, while most of the braziers in the labyrinthine corridors began to go out, slowly plunging the place into total darkness.

Something alarming for Rossana, who, with wand in hand, prepared to cast a Lumos.

At least, until Aemon intervened.

“Lower your wand.”

The order was simple and concise, and Rossana obeyed instantly, watching as the light slowly faded, until the last brazier, the one directly in front of them, was the only one left.

Everything around them was total darkness, an overwhelming gloom, as well as absolute silence.

For several seconds, the three held their breath, the silence was unsettling, almost supernatural, but thanks to Circe it did not last more than a few moments.

Until, in the middle of the darkness, a… blue butterfly manifested, beautiful and bright, evidently magical in nature.

Rossana was not able to recognize it, and by the expression of confusion and astonishment on Tonks’ face, neither could she.

But Aemon…

Aemon looked at it with wide eyes of triumph, as he murmured a word.

“Donna,” he said to himself, his face smiling, making Rossana frown.

The butterfly seemed to recognize the name, since it began to shine brighter, to the point that it began to illuminate everything around it.

And to Rossana’s surprise, when the light returned, they were no longer in the endless corridors of the castle, but in a kind of great hall.

As if the illusion itself had acknowledged Aemon… and opened the next stage.

The height of the place was considerable, with enormous pillars that guided them toward a central platform, where Rossana saw something both terrifying and impressive.

A black beast, enormous and imposing, made from an amalgam of burned iron, like a damn mountain of swords forming an amorphous mass that only indicated one thing.

Power.

And Rossana knew instantly what she was seeing.

The Iron Throne.

And apparently, Tonks deduced it as well.

“So… that is the famous Iron Throne you mentioned,” she said with curiosity and a hint of caution as she looked at the metallic monster.

Aemon did not respond, but nodded absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on the throne.

Or more specifically… on the silhouette seated upon it.

A man… though calling him that did not seem entirely correct, in Rossana’s opinion, that thing was more beast than man.

A skeletal body, silver and unkempt hair, with nails so long they almost touched the ground of the hall, and a face that could only be described with one word.

Madness.

“Bloody hell, that man is terrifying,” Tonks said, frowning.

“It is my grandfather,” Aemon said, as he began to walk slowly toward the Throne, his face completely impassive.

The butterfly continued flying toward the imposing seat, and as soon as its light touched the burned metal, something incredible happened.

Another silhouette appeared.

This one was enormous, shaped like a bird.

Like… like some kind of giant raven, but the peculiar thing was not its size.

It had three eyes, red as blood.

And from its wings, a kind of threads connected to the body of Aemon’s grandfather.

Like a terrifying puppeteer.

“What the hell is that thing?” Tonks whispered, staring at the imposing being, which did not seem to notice their presence.

But Rossana’s attention was on her fiancé.

Aemon was pale, but his face did not show fear.

It showed recognition.

“You know what that is,” the Italian witch stated, certainty in her voice, though Aemon seemed not to have heard her.

“I do,” he said, his face now furious as he walked forward with determination.

As they approached, the trio could clearly hear something unsettling.

The voice of the raven.

“Burn them all…” the ethereal being whispered, moving its wings with elegance and mastery, clearly more than accustomed to handling Aemon’s grandfather like a puppet.

And moments later...

“BURN THEM ALL!!” King Aerys screamed, his gaze mad and furious.

“Let Robert rule over the ashes”

“Let Robert rule over the ashes”

“He’s a damn puppet, nothing more,” Rossana said with contempt, frowning at the raven’s silhouette.

“Indeed… and I wonder how long it has been doing it,” Aemon said, his cold gaze analyzing the spectral figure.

Rossana looked at him with confusion.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“During my studies, there were always certain… events that seemed too convenient to be natural. Too many coincidences in sequence, with very specific consequences, as if—”

“As if someone was manipulating everything from the shadows, like a puppeteer,” Tonks said with realization.

“The hand that rocks the cradle,” Rossana added.

Aemon simply nodded.

But his gaze was not fixed on his grandfather.

He was searching for something else.

Desperately.

Until his eyes locked onto a corner of the throne, partially hidden by shadow.

“I found you…” Aemon whispered in triumph, focusing his gaze on…

A young blond man?

Who the hell was this guy?

Rossana studied the young man’s face. He was quite handsome, with clearly noble features, golden hair like the sun, and beautiful green eyes—not like Harry’s, filled with power and leadership, but… beautiful in a different way.

His body was clad in white armor with a matching cloak, but his face—

His face reflected desperation and absolute terror.

His eyes were bloodshot, and his hand, resting on the sword at his waist, trembled uncontrollably.

“Who is he, Aemon?” Rossana asked.

Aemon did not respond for a moment, staring fixedly at the young knight.

“Ser Jaime Lannister. The Kingslayer. The one who ended my grandfather’s life,” Aemon said.

Rossana expected to see fury or resentment in her beloved’s face.

But there was only… triumph.

“He doesn’t look like he could hurt a damn fly, Aemon. The man is terrified… though I can’t blame him,” Tonks said, shuddering at a laugh coming from the mad king on the throne.

“He won’t have a choice, dear,” Aemon said, looking at Jaime and then at the throne.

Rossana recognized that look.

Her beloved was planning something.

“What are you thinking, my love?” the Italian witch asked.

Aemon did not respond.

But his hair and eyes began to change color slowly.

His silver hair gave way to his original dark brown, while his purple eyes, so characteristic of dragonlords, shifted into an amber tone.

“Two can play this game,” he said.

At that exact moment, from his hands, threads of silver magic emerged and crawled along the skin of the young Lannister, whose eyes turned completely white.

“If the raven wants to play with souls… then let’s play,” he said, moving his hands like a puppeteer, making the young knight stop trembling.

“Can you hear me, Ser Jaime?” he asked.

And judging by the slight gasp and the altered look, the young man had heard him.

“Who… who is there?! Show yourself!” Jaime said, looking around with desperation and fear.

“You made an oath, remember? You know what that monster will do,” Aemon said, his voice soft and seductive, like a demon whispering into a mortal’s ear.

Rossana and Tonks watched as the young knight’s face went through a thousand emotions before he nodded.

“I… I know. He will burn the entire city… with everyone in it,” he said, his voice filled with fear and fury.

“You are a knight. You are loyal to House Targaryen. You made an oath, and you must fulfill it, Ser Jaime. You must end that beast… and protect the princesses.”

At the mention of the princesses, the young man’s face filled with determination.

“I am… I am a knight. I am loyal to my prince and his family. I… I will protect the innocent.”

His tone changed—from fear to determination and fury.

And with skill and agility, he drew his sword and began walking toward the mad king on the throne.

However… this action had unexpected results.

The enormous raven perched atop the metallic beast turned sharply, focusing its three eyes on Aemon.

Its gaze was filled with fury… but also with surprise.

“You should not be here! NO! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT! THIS IS MY TREE! MY GAME OF THRONES!!”

However, Rossana was quick to identify what it truly was.

Pure bravado.

This thing… was afraid. Afraid of Aemon and of his power.

“It fears us, Aemon—it fears what you have done!” the witch said in realization.

“And we are not finished yet,” the young dragon whispered, as a blue aura began to emanate from his body.

The aforementioned Ser Jaime had just stabbed the king with his sword, piercing through him and causing the raven’s threads to snap, enraging it even further.

the raven screamed, completely unhinged.

Alas, Aemon did not bother to answer. He simply spoke a single word, barely a whisper, yet filled with overwhelming power.

“Persona.”

The aura around Aemon exploded, releasing an immense amount of magical power, at the same time condensing into a titanic being in the shape of a dragon—one that seemed to terrify the enormous raven.

The air itself seemed to recoil, as if reality struggled to contain what Aemon had just unleashed.

“I was warned about you, abomination—about your power, but also about your weaknesses,” he spat, at the same time that the young knight ran out of the hall, repeating over and over that he had to save them.

Rossana deduced that he was referring to her beloved’s stepmother and sister, but at this moment she had more important matters to deal with.

Like surviving, for example.

“To me, Arrax!” Aemon shouted, causing an imposing dragon warrior to roar behind him.

What kind of magic is this? Rossana asked herself, stunned and astonished by what she was witnessing.

“Do you want to play with souls, bastard? Then let us play with souls!” said the raven, as an aura similar to Aemon’s enveloped its body, transforming it into a colossal humanoid form. It wielded a massive bow and wore a hood filled with raven feathers, with dozens of terrifying eyes upon it, all looking in different directions.

“What the hell is happening here?!” Tonks shouted, gripping her wand, as she watched both colossi, trembling with fear—a feeling shared by Rossana.

“Follow Jaime. Make sure he reaches my sister,” Aemon ordered, his attention focused entirely on the enormous being.

Rossana frowned and opened her mouth to respond, but her beloved interrupted her, his amber eyes filled with power.

“That was not a question. I will deal with this abomination. You… save my sister,” he ordered, and the power in his words made Rossana yield, nodding with elegance.

“We will talk about this later, Aemon,” she said, making it clear that it was not a request.

The young dragon nodded, just as the aforementioned Arrax lunged toward the deformed humanoid, causing the entire place to tremble.

“Come on, we have to catch up with golden boy,” said Tonks, grabbing Rossana by the arm and dragging her out of the hall.

The last thing she saw were the two imposing beings colliding against each other.

This was only just beginning.