Stepstones
Lucius Doraevis, Archon of Tyrosh
The view that spread before his eyes, he would remember for the rest of his life. When half a moon ago he was torn away from work by a storm on an unprecedented scale, he did not expect that it would soon turn into a cataclysm. Fire, water, air, and lightning clashed with each other, accompanied by deafening sounds.
Terrifying roars and screams caused many of the city's inhabitants to lose consciousness. He himself felt as if thousands of needles were being driven into his head. And then everything was frozen, blocking the trade routes leading along the coast of the Disputed Lands.
Fortunately, Tyrosh was beyond the reach of this cataclysm, but the ice swallowed everything within a range of over two hundred miles of the giant ice tree growing in the middle of these now Arctic wastelands. From one of the arms of Dorne to the protruding cape on the side of Essos.
Their sea lanes were completely cut off from Valyria, and he was certain that the dragonlords would not be happy about it. It was an open declaration, perhaps not of war, but a warning. What was worse, despite the high temperatures in the middle of the third year of summer, not a speck of ice showed any sign of melting after so many days since the phenomenon, which filled him with particular fear.
Looking now from the back of his dragon, Faerax, at the tree of ice the size of a mountain, whose branches stretched over half the Stepstones, and among them a barely visible frozen monstrosity, which he had noticed among the branches only when he was high in the air, and which the perpetrator of this miracle had to face, he felt sincere admiration for the power capable of such a thing.
For he had neither known nor heard of magic like that, apart from the shattering of Dorne's arm, but this was still something on a smaller scale than what he had before his eyes.
He had, of course, heard earlier from the arriving merchants and spies about a powerful sorcerer who had appeared in Dorne and destroyed the fleet of ironborn and pirates from the Stepstones.
At first he thought these stories were exaggerated, but when news reached him from his people among the pirates, or rather the few who survived because they remained on the islands, he understood that a new powerful player had appeared on the board.
However, he did not think that this one would simply blow the board to smithereens. Now he was convinced that he was dealing with a true living god, and he would have to be mad to declare at this moment, like many of his brethren, that they were above gods. The only thing that distinguished them from other mortals were their dragons, but what were they against such terrifying power?
The dragonfire worked a little, but to such a small degree that it would probably take a thousand dragons breathing fire for a thousand years to pierce a proper passage through nearly 300 feet of ice, and that wasn't counting the icy material's regenerative powers. What Faerax had managed to melt, in a matter of minutes, was healing itself again.
With a final glance at the tree, he turned his dragon toward Tyrosh. He didn't know how, but Valyria had to answer that in some way. They had their gods, after all. Gods of fire, war, and blood.
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Westeros, Casterly Rock
Cerion II Lannister, King of the Rock
Moon after Clash of Titans, Year 115 BC(before conquest)
He stood on the balcony, watching the knights and squires training in the square below, and especially his two sons, both in the service of Ser Ervin Marbrand, the finest sword in the Kingdom of Rock. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the scene, he felt a swell of pride for their dedication and skill. It was a reminder that the legacy of their family was not merely in their name but in the courage and dedication they demonstrated.
Lann and Gerold, the twins, were his pride and the future of this kingdom, and he counted on them to support each other like he and his own brother, Tybolt.
However, according to the latest news, their future did not look too bright.
Cerion had spent over a decade of his reign stabilising the kingdom, which had been greatly weakened by the rule of his predecessors. Now the future of his kingdom and his sons was uncertain. The last few months seemed like pure madness.
First, he received news of the destruction of two Ironborn fleets, the defence of Sunspear and the deaths of most of the lords of the Iron Islands, led by King Qhorin and his successor. And all of this was supposedly done by one man. Although calling a creature capable of such deeds a man is already a stretch.
Then came the news of the connection of Westeros and Essos by an indestructible ice bridge hundreds of miles wide and long, from which grew a giant ice tree, the size of a mountain. He would have thought it was nonsense if the raven that brought the message had not been from his brother, who was returning from Myr, where he had been negotiating a new contract for the supply of Myrish glass.
The first letter had announced that Tybolt had been cut off from any possible route back, making King of the Rock want to tear his golden locks from the head, unable to come up with any specific plan of action. What can a mortal, even a king, do against the gods?
The second letter the raven had brought yesterday had stated that a canal had been built through the frozen Stepstones, running just off the coast of Dorne, heavily fortified, but taxed. His brother had been let through at the cost of ten thousand gold pieces. Cerion felt as if he had just paid a ransom.
It was disturbing, or should I say terrifying, that Dorne worked closely with this divine being, this Dovahkiin, Lightbringer, and dozens of other titles carried by merchants, but strangely enough, by the common folk in his kingdom.
From every corner of his land, tales spread of a masked priest or priests preaching the teachings of this new god. Many fights involving septons or the Seven's more zealous adherents ended in slaughter, generally as a consequence of magic. The priests of this new god declared that this ability belonged to Him, and He bestowed it upon His most devoted followers.
Cerion could send armed men against them; some of his closest advisors even advised him to, but he did not want to do something he could not reverse and the consequences of which could cost him his throne and family. He was treading on unfamiliar territory here, and he was constantly thinking, had his ancestors faced precisely this type of problem in the Age of Heroes?
With a heavy sigh, he looked at his cousin Tywin, who was the head of his spy network, standing next to him. "Send more spies not only to Dorne but to the rest of the kingdoms as well," he ordered. "I want to be prepared for any eventuality. If Garth and the High Septon make a move, we may be forced to choose sides."
Tywin bowed his head slightly and replied in approval, "Wise words, my King. The last thing we should want is to anger a god who, unlike the Seven, can destroy us at will... With your permission."
With that, he left him alone on the balcony with his thoughts.
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Dorne, Sunspear
Nymeria
Nymeria once again quickly scanned the letter in her hand, then turned to Elia, one of the ladies-in-waiting and her cousin, "Tell Gerris to notify me as soon as Neferion returns to the palace... Whenever that may be."
Morgan's daughter, with whom they had grown up together and were best friends, replied with a slight blush, "Nym, Lord Neferion has been in his chambers since this morning, but I heard he told me not to disturb him... I thought you knew that?"
Nymeria wanted to scratch her eyes out. How on earth was she the last to find out about everything in the capital of her own country?
"Damn Garris. As my captain of the guard, he should have informed me immediately. Surely the guards reported it to him." she stated with clear irritation. "Even if that headache-giving man appears and disappears at will," she added, to which Ellia laughed nervously and replied, discomfort evident in her voice, but just like her father, she was painfully honest.
"You have to understand that in their minds, He is the equal of the Seven, if not greater. He could have told them not to inform you. If your god tells you something, it is natural that as a human you would place his word above the command of your lord, who is just another mortal. Like it or not, they will always consider his commands above yours. Especially after what he did for Dorne and creating the huge ice tree that is clearly visible even from Sunspear."
"I understand. It doesn't matter now... I need to talk to him urgently. Tell your father that we're cancelling our training today." she replied after a moment, controlling her irritation, and left the room.
A few minutes later she found herself in front of the solid oak doors, behind which were the private quarters of her greatest ally, although she probably had to verify their relationship, because she felt more and more like his subordinate.
Without knocking, she rushed inside, hoping in her heart that she would find him in some embarrassing situation... Unfortunately, Neferion was standing at his desk, a goblet of wine in one hand, while the finger of the other was drawing invisible lines on the map lying in front of him.
What annoyed her even more was the fact that he didn't even acknowledge her presence.
"Lord Neferion, why didn't you tell me you were back... We have urgent matters to discuss." she said, her tone deceptively calm, like the calm just before a storm, or a snake preparing to strike.
He slowly turned to her and, clearly sensing her anger, smiled in that characteristic way that drove her crazy. It didn't help that she could see the obvious amusement in his eyes, as if she were the one acting like a child.
"This isn't funny," she replied, raising his voice slightly. "You can be a god or whatever you want, but don't leave me with all the problems. You declared war on Valyria, and now they're sending me threats."
He just waved his hand dismissively, then turned back to the maps, saying, "You don't have to worry about the lizard lords. If they try anything, I'll destroy them."
She sighed inwardly, slowly approaching him, then extended her hand and turned his face towards hers so that he was looking her in the eye. "Neferion. I really owe you everything, but with how you appear and disappear, you won't always be there to stop an attack. Valyria has thousands of dragons, armies and fleets, but also magic of the darkest sort."
He watched her for a moment, then finally asked, pointing a finger at a specific point on the map, "What do you see here?"
Nymeria glanced down, frowning, "Grey Gallows, or rather the place where your ice tree stands. What answer do you expect?"
Instead of answering, Neferion pointed to seven more points on the map, covering various corners of the world, such as Asshai, Sothoryos and Ulthos.
She looked at him questioningly, "Was that supposed to tell me something?"
He smiled meaningfully, then finally explained, "In these places will stand eight extraordinary towers, which will become the foundation of my future rule over this planet and a barrier against all danger. I will call them the Towers of Planetos."
Taking a closer look at the map, she saw the names he had clearly written in the indicated places: "Ada-Mantia, Red Tower, White-Gold Tower, Crystal Tower, Snow Tower, Green-Sap, Orichalc, Brass Tower." She read the names under her breath, but they meant nothing to her.