Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and all rights for characters, plots and settings belong to G.R.R. Martin and FromSoftware. I have no ownership.
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"In a dark place we find ourselves and a little more knowledge lights our way"
Grandmaster Yoda
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There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no fear; there is power.
I am the Heart of the Force.
I am the revealing fire of Light.
I am the mystery of Darkness
In balance with Chaos and Harmony,
Immortal in the Force
Je'daii Order Code
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Westeros, Crownlands
Year 298 AC (After Aegon Conquest)
Raevan
He was absentmindedly reviewing the ledger listing his expenses and income, but his mind was elsewhere, returning to the meeting with Prince Bu Han he had just finished an hour ago.
He knew that given the current situation, where invisible enemies lay in wait for him and his House, he had to postpone his trip to the Yi-Ti to deal with the Sorcerer of Carcosa. Although sooner or later, it was inevitable, especially if he had ties to Those Who Dwell in Shadows.
He had too little information at the moment. So far, he had given the prince the plans for a cannon that seemed quite advanced. Similar ones were used on some of the more primitive planets in the Outer Rim.
While the Yi-Ti had developed gunpowder, they had so far used it for fireworks or prototype bombs. He would push them a step further. Of course, cannons aren't a guarantee of victory, but they can still tip the scales in the Emperor's favor, especially against General Pol Qo.
The Sorcerer, however, was a tougher nut to crack. Depending on his skills and how he used Force, he could become an insurmountable opponent for the God Emperor without Raevan's direct intervention.
And therein lay the problem. Such a journey could take him up to two years. The ship journey to Yin, the capital of the Empire, alone could take about three to five months, without any long stops, and he wanted to explore Valyria along the way.
For a moment, his thoughts drifted back to Lyn Corbray, who had "unfortunately" died during their duel. Not only did it serve to bring justice, but it was also a blow to Peter Baelish, the unofficial Lord Regent of the Vale, whose right-hand man Lyn was.
The entire situation in the Vale irritated him immensely. After Jon Arryn's sudden death seven years ago, his wife, Lysa, wore a shockingly short mourning period, and only a few moons later, married Baelish, a small, insignificant lord.
And although young Robert Arryn was lord and his mother his regent, everyone was perfectly aware that Littlefinger was the true ruler. Indeed, Lord Royce himself had complained about this in private conversations with his father.
However, since no law had been broken, the king could do nothing about it. While, of course, both his father and he were practically certain that Jon Arryn's death was not natural, any evidence that existed had long since been destroyed or erased by the passage of time.
Suddenly, he looked up, sensing a slight fluctuation in the Force that had appeared out of nowhere. A moment later, he heard the subtle grinding of a mechanism he recognized perfectly. A hidden passage behind the tapestry depicting Torrhen Stark kneeling before Aegon the Conqueror.
A moment later, the wall revealed a passageway and a hooded figure standing within it. Raevan was alarmed, not only by the fact that no one should be able to exit this passage, as he had set several mind traps there, but also by the fact that he couldn't sense this person with the Force, as if something were blocking his senses.
He waited silently, ready at any moment to unleash all his power against the unexpected guest. The figure stepped inside, and in the glow of light, despite the traveling cloak covering her, he could make out a woman's silhouette.
A moment later, the woman reached for her hood, pulling it back, revealing perhaps the most beautiful face he had ever seen in either of his lives. Framed by a halo of gold-silver hair, a straight, graceful nose, a heart-shaped face, and typically Valyrian features.
But it was her heterochromatic eyes, one sapphire, the other bright green, that caught his attention. Their exotic beauty aside, they concealed strength and power. These were the eyes of a Force user, and a powerful one at that.
The woman smiled faintly, practically brightening the room. "This room has changed considerably since I lived here," she said, glancing around slightly. "And those traps weren't a pleasant surprise."
Her words only confused him. Though her distinctive appearance struck a familiar chord in his memory.
"Who are you?" he asked calmly, keeping all his emotions in check. She merely smiled again and removed her traveling cloak, revealing remarkably well-made black trousers and a long-sleeved white shirt, clearly tailored to a woman.
This wasn't the kind of attire women wore in Westeros. Moreover, he was certain it wasn't in Essos either. The woman threw her cloak onto one of the chairs across from his desk, then, with impeccable grace, though with barely noticeable signs of fatigue, sat down in another.
Then she looked at him with a small smile and asked, "You haven't recognized me yet?"
He raised an eyebrow questioningly. She hadn't just barged into his private chamber in the middle of the protected keep as if nothing had happened and was now teasing him.
Either this woman was incredibly brave or insane. Perhaps both. Still, he had to admit she intrigued him. As his relationship with Bastilla demonstrated, he preferred women with strong personalities.
"Given your knowledge of Red Keep and your appearance, I would say you are Shiera Seastar, daughter of Aegon the Unworthy... of course with this there is one massive problem. "You don't look like a woman over a hundred," he replied, almost convinced that he was indeed dealing with one of the infamous Great Bastards. He himself was an example of how the Force was able to extend a person's lifespan.
"My Prince, don't you know that it's inappropriate to ask a woman's age?" she replied with a twinkle in her eye, her voice taking on a distinctly seductive tone. "But yes, you weren't mistaken. I am Shiera Seastar, and yes, I am the bastard of probably the biggest asshole in the history of our House.
Raevan had hundreds of questions. How did she still look barely older than Rhaenys? Where had she been all this time? What had she been doing? And, of course, most importantly, who taught her to wield the Force? Who taught her what the Force was? And where to find that person? In that moment, he was convinced he wasn't the first Jedi or Sith to come to or be reborn on this planet.
He hated knowing so little about his enemies, especially considering his crusade against Vitiate, where he had also spent most of his time moving blind, allowing himself to be outplayed by the Emperor.
Focusing back on women in front of him, he asked, "Why are you here and what is your purpose, my lady?"
"Aren't you even going to offer me something to drink? I'd like to point out that I've spent many moons traveling."
Raevan sighed inwardly. Perhaps if it were any other day, he wouldn't mind a little flirting, but today he really didn't feel like it.
"So what would you like to drink, Shiera?" he asked, waving his hand nonchalantly, as numerous carafes and bottles filled with liquor rose into the air and began to levitate right in front of her.
"Ah. So, have we moved on to the name yet? I like it," she replied, a small smirk playing on her lips. Glancing at the floating spirits, after a few seconds she added, "I haven't had Golden Arbor in ages." I think I've forgotten what it tastes like."
A moment later, a half-filled goblet of wine landed right in front of her.
Raevan had to exercise great patience as Shiera slowly sipped her wine for another full minute, casting him provocative glances and testing his composure.
But finally, apparently deciding enough was enough, she spoke again. "I must admit I'm impressed. Such control at such a young age... One might think I'm dealing with a mature, experienced man, not a very young man."
He frowned at these words. Did she know something about his situation?... No. It had to be just suspicion. She couldn't know.
Seeing his expression, the woman laughed lightly, and he had to admit to himself that he liked that laugh. It reminded him of Bastilla's. However, a moment later, he caught the thought and fed it to Force.
"My dear Prince, I think we should be honest with each other. Your presence in the Force is like a storm, ready to engulf the world. And your knowledge clearly exceeds everything our world has to offer. Your soul is old in this young body, just like mine."
"What do you really want, Lady Shiera? I think these games and wordplay are pointless. Tell me why you sought me out before I lose my patience," he replied firmly, but it clearly didn't change her attitude. On the contrary, she seemed quite pleased.
"It's simple, Prince Raevan. I'm seeking an alliance. And before you interrupt me, you have something I need, and I have information you can't get otherwise... about a certain group called Those Who Dwell in Shadows."
Indeed, the incoming answer caught in his throat. Frowning, he couldn't help but feel that the Force was involved. He needed answers, and suddenly, someone with them appeared. He didn't believe in coincidences.
Shiera watched him with a look that suggested she guessed what was going through his mind. "Judging by your silence, I assume you've heard of them?"
"What do you know about them?" he asked calmly, but he felt excitement bubbling inside him. Not only at the prospect of the potential information, but also at the prospect of finally speaking to another Force-trained person, something normal people couldn't understand.
He was beginning to realize he wasn't in any hurry to end this conversation.
Shiera, in response to his question, wagged her finger slightly. "No, no. Not so fast. It's a transaction. I'll give you answers about your enemies, because believe me, that's who they are, and in return, you must give me something."
"And what would that be? I don't think you're simply seeking wealth?"
She rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Though I currently possess less than I'd like. What they expect from you is protection. You can pretend as long as you like, but I saw your presence in Force. A storm held together by an iron will and knowledge as deep as the abyss."
Raevan remained silent, but this still didn't deter her. "Give me protection and share whatever knowledge you deem appropriate... I won't ask any questions. In return, I'll give you answers no one else will."
Raevan pondered her words, sensing what lay beneath. Shiera might seem calm and composed, but in Force, upon closer inspection, he could see the anxiety slithering through her presence.
"You're afraid. You're running... But you don't know how long you can last," he finally said, and she smiled faintly this time, and he saw a brief flash of fear and pain in her eyes.
"Anyone in my position would feel the same. There are things worse than death in this world," she replied, finishing the rest of her wine in a single gulp.
"You were part of them, weren't you? I mean, Those Who Dwell in Shadows?"
Her face turned into a stony mask, and then she nodded, "Yes. They recognized my talent and offered me knowledge and power. It's a shame they didn't mention the leash. I simply became a slave."
Raevan regarded her with a greater measure of sympathy and understanding. He could understand the feeling.
"Who exactly are 'they'?" he asked.
Shiera glared at him. "First, swear by Force that in return you will protect me. That's the only guarantee I'm willing to accept."
He had to admit she was asking a lot. He wasn't sure he'd be able to circumvent such an oath if necessary. Force could be tricky when it came to such oaths. But this wasn't the kind of thing he did to gain knowledge.
He held out his hand, palm up, closing his eyes, waiting. After a moment, he felt a smaller, much more delicate palm rest on his own.
"Let Force be my witness; I swear to protect this woman from danger as long as she doesn't betray me. Thus do I say, as Revan, Heart of the Force," he said, channeling all his intent and will into these words.
He felt a faint bond forming in the Force between him and this truly unknown woman, and Force recognized his oath. He might come to regret it, but a good portion of his friends started out as his enemies. Bastilla, for example. So in this case, it was progress anyway.
Shiera relaxed again, a playful smile appearing on her face. Raevan looked at her expectantly. "I've fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now it's your turn," he said.
He caught the glint in the woman's eye as she asked, "Have you ever heard of beings calling themselves Sith or Darth?"
In that very moment, hearing those words, Revan, feeling a pang of unease, was certain he wouldn't like what he heard. His face clearly showed it, for Shiera said,
"So you've heard... So perhaps you know something about a being called Darth Andeddu?"
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Westeros, King's Landing
Year 298 AC (After Aegon Conquest)
Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish
The sense of accomplishment he felt at that moment, witnessing so many of the most powerful men in the known world gathered in one chamber and being counted among them, was indescribable. Years of hard work, networking, bribery, blackmail, intelligence gathering, and manipulation had finally come to fruition.
Of course, he was still the person with the least prestige and power in this group and had the least say, but this was only the beginning of his ascent to the top. Unlike many of his co-conspirators, he had met Prince Raevan in person. None of those present gave him the sense of threat he felt from a prince who wasn't even of age.
He even briefly considered informing the king of the entire conspiracy and raising his profile, but he suspected Raevan would have disposed of him anyway, a fact only confirmed by today's duel, in which the prince deliberately killed Lyn, Petyr's henchman. No, under Targaryen rule, there was no chance for him to rise.
Instead, there was a war that was about to break out and that, according to him, wouldn't end as quickly as his co-conspirators hoped. In recent years, the rule of the House of the Dragon had stabilized considerably, and although their power was incomparably weaker without the dragons, they were definitely stronger than they had been for the past 100-150 years.
And now the nine men gathered here represented a powerful alliance organized against the Targaryens, though of course not all of its members were present.
On his left sat Illyrio Mopatis, the filthy rich merchant prince of Pentos and one of the architects of this alliance. Next was the brother of the Archon of Tyrosh, Leorio Alequo, with his lush blue beard and shaved hair. He was the grey eminence ruling this Free City from the shadows.
On his right sat Tywin Lannister in all his grim, rock-hard presence; Malaquo Maegyr, one of the Triarchs of Volantis; and Verso zo Pahl, the richest of the Great Masters of Meereen and, at the same time, one of the most influential people in Slaver Bay.
Dragho Mott represented Qohor and was arguably the best blacksmith in the known world. Merek Vashar was in turn the representative of the Conclave, the council of magisters that ruled Myr. The last person present was Ernesteo Haen First Magister of Lys.
"Lord Baelish, you seem deep in thought. Any doubts?" Illyrio asked him with a false smile that hid his nervousness.
"No, no. I'm just amazed at how you, dear Illyrio, managed to gather such a distinguished and powerful group for a common goal. Is there anything we can't achieve together?" he replied lightly, with just the right amount of compliment.
The Magister laughed lightly, but it didn't reach his eyes, and his good humor was cut short by a question from the other side of the oval table.
"Where is Varys, Illyrio?" asked Leorio, clearly irritated. "That fool was supposed to meet me hours ago. He didn't even give me any message that he couldn't meet? I wasted an hour waiting for him, and even now he's late."
The Magister of Pentos visibly grimaced at these words. "I don't know where he is. I haven't had any contact with him, and according to the arrangements, we were supposed to meet here," he replied with a helpless shrug.
Petyr frowned at the Magister's words. It wasn't like Spider to disappear like that. Had something happened to him? Apparently, he wasn't the only one who had thought so, because a moment later, their host's question echoed in the chamber.
"What are the chances that something happened to him? Perhaps he's been exposed?" Tywin Lannister's words drew several worried glances at him.
"Impossible. They have no reason to suspect him. He controls the flow of information," Merek Vashar replied immediately. However, Magister Myr himself didn't look convinced.
"It's possible he received some task from the king and couldn't appear to keep it a secret," Verso zo Pahl added, but Petyr dismissed this as wishful thinking. What's more, he was becoming increasingly convinced that something bad had happened.
"Only a Ghiscari would believe such nonsense," Malaquo Maegyr snorted, his blue eyes staring at the Meereenese Grand Master with contempt. "Something has happened. It's possible the eunuch has been captured and is now appearing," he added, emphasizing the word "eunuch," making his opinion of Varys clear.
Yes, the triarch wasn't pleasant to be around, and Petyr generally avoided contact with him. The Volantine were the most pompous and arrogant people he'd ever encountered. One might think they were Dragonlords, but that was all they could dream of.
Malaquo's earlier words clearly irritated both Verso and Illyrio, but before either could respond, a strange voice echoed through the chamber. Cold and harsh, it sent shivers down Petyr's spine.
"Varys has indeed been discovered by Raevan Targaryen, and the prince has learned of the entire conspiracy."
Though the chamber was well-lit, a figure in a black robe, his head covered by a hood, suddenly appeared among them as if from nowhere. Petyr's instincts immediately began to scream that this person was extremely dangerous.
However, most of the others present seemed more concerned with this person's words than with their appearance, as if they had seen something like this before.
"Relax, Lord Baelish; he's just one of our friends," Illyrio's voice echoed from the side, though the Magister of Pentos was clearly shaken by Varys's death. However, years of trade and politics taught one to control one's emotions. Petyr knew this himself.
Suddenly, a crash echoed in the chamber. Malaquo Maegyr slammed the table furiously, sending an angry glare towards the figure hidden beneath the cloak. "Why did you allow this!? You were supposed to be keeping an eye on the prince!" he shouted, rising to his feet.
The entire chamber fell silent, and suddenly something Petyr couldn't explain happened. The cloaked figure reached out a hand toward the triarch, and then Malaquo began to choke, his hands going to his throat as if trying to release a noose tightening around his neck.
All this lasted for a few seconds, during which neither of them dared to rise. After a moment, the figure lowered his hand, and the triarch collapsed into his chair, gasping for air. Then the cloaked man's voice echoed through the chamber once more.
"You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with and who orchestrated all this. This is Malaquo's final warning. There won't be a next time, and we'll find a new triarch. You're lucky you're standing before me and not one of the Council."
Petyr sat in silence, genuinely terrified, wondering what he'd just gotten himself into. It turned out that this wasn't just an alliance of ambitious men, but something far more terrifying lay behind it.
Until now, he'd been certain that magic belonged to myth and fable, that it had died with the dragons, but it seemed to be quite real. He couldn't shake the image of the suffocating Triarch of Volantis from his mind.
This was true power. It was something he desired. Yet something beyond his reach.
"As I said, the prince knows of the conspiracy, but he doesn't know your identities. We left safeguards in Varys's mind. The prince was unable to learn more," the sorcerer said, drawing Petyr's attention back to him.
Tywin, previously the calmest of those gathered in the chamber, suddenly spoke up. "You say, my lord, that you left safeguards in the eunuch's mind, as if to suggest that Prince Raevan had the opportunity to learn something from his mind."
"He is right." Peryr thought, "He did indeed suggest something like that."
The figure was silent for a moment, as if unsure what he might reveal, but then spoke: "Prince Raevan is more dangerous than you might think. Do not underestimate him. If the Faceless Men fail, we will deal with him."
As he expected, they learned nothing. Except for the fact that the Faceless Men were hired to get rid of the prince. That must have cost a fortune.
"My lord, what about our plans for the attack?" asked the previously silent Ernesteo Haen, wiping his sweaty hands with nervousness.
"No change," replied the cloaked sorcerer. "If it works, fine. If it doesn't, it doesn't matter. If it fails once, we'll try a second time, then a third, and a fourth. For as long as it takes. You are to complete the task you've been entrusted with."
"It will be done, my lord." Illyrio replied, glancing at Malaquo, who was still massaging his neck. "We won't fail."
"It would be better that way. Otherwise, the most dire consequences await you," the other replied. The chamber was filled with darkness again for a moment, and when the candles and oil lamps flickered again, the figure vanished.
But instead of continuing the meeting, an unbearable silence stretched on in the chamber, the sorcerer's final warning hanging over them like an executioner's axe.
Just a few minutes earlier, they had all seemed so powerful, so self-assured. But the truth was that each of them, despite their wealth and power, had to submit to unknown sorcerers. Even the seemingly powerful Lord of Casterly Rock.
What was stopping them from suddenly appearing in their room in the middle of the night and killing them in their sleep?
With each passing second, Petyr began to regret more and more that he had allowed Spider to persuade him to join this group. Though it was possible that if he had refused, the masked figure would have paid him a visit sooner.
He had no choice but to go with the flow and try to take advantage of the approaching chaos. After all, chaos is a ladder.