Chapter 32: Thus Saith the Lord
-Aemond-
Vhagar emerged from the high clouds blackened by smoke for only the space of heartbeats before the great bronze and green she-dragon locked her jaws around the chest of the white and gold Arrax, and tore him asunder as she rose up higher under the light of the sun. Aemond's breath caught at the sight of the sanguine chunks raining down back into the sea of white staining blacker and blacker, and his nephew screaming in the saddle as he plunged into the smoke and into the blaze that consumed the Eyrie below.
Aemond's face split wide with joy, every line of his teeth plain to see, as the exaltation of an insult repaid ruthlessly filled him. It rivaled the feeling of holding his newborn children, this joy sprung from harm. His mind replayed for him the screams carried to him on the wind 'No, Arrax! Obey!' the desperate cries of his bastard nephew who wanted nothing more than to flee this encounter with his nemesis. Even as the feeling left him, Aemond still felt the warmth of satisfaction pooling within him, for he knew the world - now set to right by him and his brothers - was healing.
Vhagar needed only a few nudgings to bring her back to focus from the taste of draconic blood in her mouth, and the pair charted a return course to friendly territory. She needed hardly any time at all to return to Gulltown, where the new Lord of the Vale, Arnold Arryn, sheltered with his more distant kinsman, Isembard Arryn. It didn't take much observational power to see that the Gilded Falcon Isembard lusted for the authority held by the main House, but the presence of Aemond's dragon helped cool the flames of ambition. Even if the prince didn't mind the base vices of the merchant class, he countenanced no usurpation. The Gulltown Arryns traded their noble blood for coin, and received their reward. Money is not power. Power may listen to money, but when power speaks money yields. The Gulltown Arryns chose poorly.
Needless to say, when Aemond arrives, the rich prepare their finest feasts. Roast pigs, glistening meat falling off the bone with the slightest pull. Candied fruits, and sweet wines. Ducks baked crispy and more chickens spun on spits than a hundred men can eat. Dancing, singing, and any woman he fancies a taste of. He paid not a penny for any of it, for power arrived formed as him.
Aemond raised a toast for his brother, the King and after finishing his cup he buried his face into a pair of the biggest breasts he'd ever seen handing off a skinny woman. He smiled ear to ear and twisted his face about as he became the Lord of Titty City.
-Aegon-
Before me lay a platter of millet, onion, and chickpea porridge mixed with a half dozen over medium fried eggs, and topped with a half dozen roasted lamb chops seasoned with salt, pepper, and garlic. A bowl of black berries and a bowl of walnuts came alongside, and a cask of red wine atop a frame, tapped and ready to fill my tankard as I wished, as well as a pitcher of iced milk sweetened with honey. My knife revealed the juicy red treasure of the chops, and I forked the first bite with some porridge. I took the time to sigh heavily in satisfaction of the simple and savory before the next bite, and regularly interrupted my paced annihilation of the platter with blackberries followed by walnuts to reset my palate and not become inured to the excellence of my breakfast. I drank wine so frequently that the honeyed milk tasted exotic and luxurious compared to the finest red vintage of my kingdoms. I demolished the platter and beverages as only a thirty stone man can, then I wiped my mouth and beard in silk and turned my gaze to my guests sat across my father's table.
"Such joy I feel in this reunion, sister." I addressed the red eyed Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Former Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Former Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Former Protector of the Realm, "I hope you take comfort in my presence in these trying times." I paused and observed her bloodshot eyes and the bags under them, "Alas, I come bearing more news of great sorrow. Your husband, our uncle, was murdered by treachery most foul between the Kingsroad and the shore of the God's Eye. Ser Jon Waters proved his quality, and loyally died soon after."
Though my sister's posture slumped, her eyes remained unmoistened. Perhaps she already cried out her capacity for tears, but my cousins and their half-siblings wailed at news of their father's passing. My daughter cried out for her daddy, the poor confused thing. Young Baela cursed me, and with the value of her words and a copper penny she can buy a roast chicken.
I enjoyed their anguish for a time, but eventually they lost steam enough for Rhaenyra's horse voice to reach my ear, "Brother," she pleaded, "please spare what is left of my children."
I frowned, and tapped my finger on the table between us, "Sister, your audacity knows no bounds."
"Please!" her interruption cried out, only halted from continuing by my raised hand.
"To imply that I respect the women and children of my bloodline enough to murder them to defend my claim… Or worse, that I am some beast to slay my own blood for my own amusement..." I explained in droll tone, but felt the corner of my mouth twitch up with the second possibility, "Audacity of highest kind. I murdered your husband, our uncle - by means low and base - as a gift. To spare his warrior pride the humiliation of clashing against me. The inhabitants of all the Hells have heard by now, this man amongst them is the man Aegon himself feared too greatly to face in combat. Despite all the inevitability of the outcome he can hold onto that fact, and build a delusion of grandeur to wrap his spirit around. I paid to him the highest regard, not for any work of his hands or mouth, but by value of his blood. He was not some Andal savage to destroy without regard."
Feeling thirsty, I drained my tankard and filled it again. I had every eye fixed on me, every ear opened. My monologue resonated, I saw the understanding of my feelings burning behind their eyes. They all knew now my sincerity, and thus the truth of what came next.
"I have no such respect for any of you." I continued after my beverage break, "None of you are worth the honor of dying by my hand, or my command. I hold you all in such contempt that I tolerate you. All of you are free to go home. My men will defend you on the path, and bring ruin to all that would harm you."
The reward of tolerance is treachery and betrayal, and I care not for the consequences. I welcome it. Already Rhaenyra's opposition has made my ascension to the Iron Throne legendary. Civil war, the deaths of dragons, all fodder for my life story. I am so far beyond that cold bitter boy desperately trying to destroy everything threatening him that I hardly remember him, and don't remember the man before him. At this moment, I am no longer Jorah Mormont reborn. I am not the vestige of the burning beacon of psychic might that immolated himself atop the Hightower.
I am Aegon the Great, second of his name but the only one a real man.
-Me-
I channeled my displeasure at my mortal incarnation's identity solidifying in mundanity into the curse I placed upon the human male dog female hybrid I twisted out of the Emperor of Yi Ti and a stray bitch, then cursed with eternal life and endless heat to be fucked by dogs for all time as recompense for all my bastards he tortured to death in his lands. Now I empowered his scent so that every dog within hundreds of miles is drawn to him wild with lust.
His unceasing suffering did little to quell my roiling emotions. I considered visiting the Maiden, or the Moon Mother, to steady myself in sacred quim till my disappointment and fury subsided, or perhaps visit the Many-Faced-God to deny him once again his 'gift' as I subject him to every fate possible worse than death. Sadism or debauchery, in truth it all feels so shallow now. Neither will bring me any comfort.
I crave conquest of a different kind. I rose from my throne and descended through my palace, my seat of power and splendor in the higher plane of existence, the realms of gods and demons across which I waged war for eons uncounted until all fell or knelt in chains. I descended to the foundations I laid around a single beautiful fissure, a rend in reality, a treasure only discovered by chance as I drove my rivals from their seats and pursued them across the cosmos. A diffusion of red, orange, and yellow that called out to me, and through it I saw beyond this universe, and the vehicle for my ascension: a method of reincarnation invented by a being known as Valmar. He laid the infrastructure for beings like me to incarnate mortals into our multiverse at four points in time, during the reign of Viserys I, the reign of Aerys II, and at two points in Robert's reign, at the start and near the end.
Through this fissure he created to ferry mortal souls I discovered the structure of reality, and regained the flames of ambition that once roared in me. The vast empty expanses of the universe regained the wonder of possibility. Alas the infrastructure he laid down was not meant for beings such as me, and in that I at last found use for the mortality I shed to become a god.
That single mortal soul, that mortal me so antithetical to my immortal existence yet so fearful of its destruction that I preserved it in stasis and guarded it more jealously than any of my treasures. That which I feared capable of destroying me became my salvation from an existence with no more mountains to climb and battles to fight. I took that mortal soul to the fissure, and with it gained access to Valmar's system of reincarnation so unlike Levid's Magical Wheel, but alike in every way that mattered.
With that system, and another directly linked to it I crafted a life for my mortal self in a parallel universe that I would have wanted for myself, and in that I failed my ultimate goal. I crafted for him a life so good as to scare him away from the path to power, to apotheosis. I prevented him from raising up another god-self that I could link to and take my first steps across the boundaries of universes, my first steps to becoming a multiversal god like Valmar before me.
I grew too greedy. Everything I added onto my mortal self I added onto myself through the communication of attributes between us. Every Boon, every Perk, every Talent, every treasure I added onto him I added a divine version onto myself. On the earth I raise up for him the Blue Keep, a castle best in all things among men, and in the heavens I raised a white bastion of my divinity of such power and splendor as to break the minds of mortal men with just a glance. I made him greater than any man on the face of the earth, garbed him in magic armor, put in his hands magic sword and shield, and placed him atop a steed designed by a god. All of these things I added onto him through the manipulation of reality and destiny, and through the communication of attributes I added it all onto myself, beyond mortal ken.
I became so much more, gained so much more, from just a single instance of using Valmar's system. So much I added onto him, and so much I held back lest he grow beyond my grasp, or become hidden from my sight. I sent him onward satisfied with my haul, foolishly believing that my mortal self would simply get right back at it and go after godhood again. Foolish indeed, for I eased his path to it greatly, but also provided with him great comfort and insulation such that he felt no native desire to pursue the path, and no greater being would harm him and thus awaken his furious vengeance on the supernatural. I gave him dominion over the mundane earth, and he took it, completely satisfied. He broke with Adam, choosing ignorance over defiance.
I spoke not of my goal for this venture with my mortal self, lest that defiance point at me, lest me the man find me the god untrustworthy. Lest he become stubborn and set against the task, an unwilling servant spiting the master. I require a subtle hand to bring about my salvation, but Valmar provides. This time I will have more tools, for Valmar set quests for these mortals to accomplish, and offered sweet reward for their completion, but none so sweet as Another Adventure. By completing seven of Valmar's Quests, the mortal soul gains access to new systems and new multiverses. Aegon completed eight quests already without any prompting by me, simply by his own desires.
Now I must wait, wait for mortal soul to slip mortal coil, and yank him back across the divide between universes, and try again. Not another dip into our universe, my mortal soul is far too comfortable in this setting. I need something to break his comfort with mundanity before bringing him back and putting him on the path to apotheosis again. I need… something 'modern'. Something bleak. I'll find it well before he dies, and then I'll break this loser mentality.
I will not be denied. I will spread across every virgin cosmos. I will show them all what exists above real men.
Thus saith the Lord.
Thus saith Jorah.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The climax is over and the audience finally gets the big reveal of what the hell has been going on this whole time. I tried to keep it consistent with the PoV transitions by labelling all of Aegon's with -Aegon-, but I'm not sure if I did that, and I don't think anyone clocked it anyways. In Path all the transitions back to Jorah are subtitled -Me-, as it is Jorah narrating the whole story, and in a surprise reveal it is Jorah narrating this story too.
I got inspired to do this one from one of GothicJedi's stories. I hated it, but I'd never seen this type of CYOA fic before and checked out the one he used for it. I'd been looking for a new angle for a HotD fic to make things interesting for me, and it came together for me perfectly. I considered everything I hated about his story, and used it as a road map of what not to do with this one. As such I kept the CYOA from the narration entirely, and didn't post a 'Build' page anywhere. I wanted the gimmick to serve as a mystery for the audience. I wanted people to wonder why Aegon has all this cool stuff. I wanted Aegon to wonder why he has all this cool stuff, in his own warped way.
Jorah becoming his own ROB or Jump-chan also fired my neurons like the forth of July, and once again we are pulling from Christianity. The end of Path is a big satanic ritual that inverts the Passion and the Trinity, and once again we are pulling from Christian theology for Jorah's motivation, this time with an inversion of the Communication of Attributes, in which the attributes of Christ's divine nature apply to his human nature, and now Jorah gains his own versions of things Aegon gained through the CYOA.
Just another W for Based Christianity.
Anyway, we'll pick things up back with the Last Supper next chapter, and then go on to scenes from King Aegon's highlight reel till we reach his death and Jorah yeets him into Worm with powers from yet another of Valmar's CYOA. This time his: Evolution CYOA. I'm just going for the Unga Bunga options unless someone wants to make a compelling case for a different build.
On the topic of 'Worm: The Lizard Daddy That Replaced Armsmaster' I've come to an important decision. While it is a very good setting for the clash of my Charisma and Chaos Armsmaster/Grunt vs Brutality and Order Manpower/Aegon, it is not at all a good setting for my final fan fiction. Worm means nothing to me beyond its fun as a sandbox. Aegon and Grunt could yeet each other through buildings and collateral kill the entire main cast and I wouldn't care at all. This makes it a terrible setting for my last outing. As such, it cannot be my last fan fiction.
I came to this realization while watching the Lord of the Rings Extended edition films in theaters with my oldest boy. My love of fantasy fully cemented 25 years ago when my dad brought me, at age six, and my brother , age three, to see Fellowship of the Ring instead of taking us to the park like he told my mom he was doing. We all owe my reckless dad for that, I wouldn't be who I am without it.
In line with my love of stories coming full circle, I feel its best to end my fan fiction days with a story from the fandom I most belong too, despite the fact that I have never finished reading a single fan fiction of LotR outside of my own comedy fic, 'Mordor for the Orcs'. Unlike Thrones, in which reading Martin makes me want to read more Thrones Fics, reading LotR's fics always makes me want to read more Tolkien. That's why even if Martin finishes his series, and even with all the TV shows and other media he can get, any argument for Martin as the greatest fantasy writer of all time is a joke bigger and fatter than he used to be. At best he is competing for a distant second.
I say this as someone who has spent three years studying and writing fanfiction from his work.
So poll time. I'm of two minds about a LotR story. Either way is Aegon/Manpower reincarnating into the setting via Grunt taking over his CYOA. I'm interested in doing:
A Boromir fic in which Helaena/Iron Rain is a Princess of Dol Amroth, with this being a clean fic, no other reincarnates.
Or
A Theodred fic in which Aemond and Daeron reincarnate as his younger brothers - since Theoden's wife can't die birthing a Jorah-man - and Helaena is a Dunedain OC, and their kids are reincarnations of the kids from Path. Theoric, Theomar, Theolok, Theor, Thaella, and little Thaeda.
Personally, I think the Theodred, but I want to hear opinions, and recommendations in case I am missing something genuinely spicy since I'm not active in the fandom at all.
You can support me and my family at
ko-fi.com/jmanm