99 AC / 54 HA
Octavian
CRACK.
Father appeared out of thin air, hovering directly in front of Caraxes' massive snout. He placed a single, bare hand upon the beast's crimson scales. Before the wounded dragon could even register the sudden intrusion, he was forced into a deep, magical slumber. The Blood Wyrm's colossal body crashed heavily to the ground, kicking up a thick cloud of ash and dirt.
CRACK.
The air instantly turned suffocatingly thick as Father Apparated again, appearing directly beside Lily, Daemon, and me.
All of his resplendent glory was now anchored in a battle-worn form. Despite the sweat lining his skin and the soot staining his dark coat, his emerald eyes held a renewed, piercing shine. Coupled with the subtle, grim stretch of a smile upon his lips, he looked terrifyingly imposing.
As soon as they saw him, every legionary in the vicinity dropped to one knee, offering the Imperial salute with synchronised clatter of armour. Father's magic settled over the ruins, slowly but surely saturating the very air we breathed.
"DEUS!"
The unified chant of thousands of men kneeling in a wave for one man—mere moments after having fought for their very lives—carried a deeply awe-inspiring edge. I could not help but admire it. Lily shared the sentiment; a fierce, proud gleam lit her eyes as she looked upon him. Out of all of us, she truly admired him the most for his relentlessness and strength.
Daemon, on the other hand, was cycling through a rapid, visible wave of emotions: fear, awe, amazement, and sheer disbelief. I had seen that exact expression many times when mortal men stood in the unshielded presence of the Imperator. All things considered, the Valyrian was doing remarkably well just to remain on his feet, given the oppressive volume of magic Father was currently unleashing upon his surroundings.
It was certainly unlike Father to use such blunt, heavy methods to inspire awe.
"Father, I believe half the vanguard will faint if you keep exerting your presence for a moment longer," I cautioned quietly.
Father blinked, breaking from his distant, godly stare, and his face softened into a genuine, human smile.
"Forgive me. I am still growing used to my current state," he spoke, his voice booming effortlessly across the reverent ranks. "You may all rise." The suffocating pressure in the air lessened in degree but not state.
"Come, children. We must return to the palace. There is much to be done," he declared. He then cast a steady glance toward Daemon, who was taking in deep, ragged gasps of air, having seemingly forgotten how to breathe. "You are welcome to join us, Prince Daemon."
Instead of waiting for the shocked Targaryen to formulate an answer, Father looked toward Lily. She understood the silent command instantly, stepping forward to firmly clasp Daemon's hand. Father caught my shoulder with his right hand and took Lily's free hand with his left.
"Claudius, I trust you have things well in hand here?" I called out, looking toward the scarred general.
The older man offered a firm, blood-stained nod.
CRACK.
The suffocating, violent compression of space vanished, replaced instantly by the pristine, echoing silence of the Imperial Throne Hall.
My boots struck the polished marble floor, the sharp sound ringing out across the cavernous expanse. The immense chamber, built to house a thousand kneeling subjects, was entirely empty. All around us, massive pillars reached for the vaulted ceiling. Their white surfaces were meticulously etched with ancient runes, Latin script, and flowing Valyrian glyphs. The air here was cool, sterile, and entirely devoid of the suffocating ash and brimstone that had choked Qohor merely a second ago.
Father released his hold on my shoulder and Lily's hand.
"I stand by my stand for this method of travel" I spoke in some disdain. Lily merely chuckled at my declaim.
Father did not speak. In his right hand, the opaque black sphere churned violently. A faint, muffled scratching and a high-pitched, distorted wail bled through the dark magical boundary—the maddened soul of the Black Goat raging fruitlessly against its cage.
With slow, measured steps Aeternus crossed the marble floor and began to ascend the seven grand stairs of the dais.
Looming over the platform was the Imperial Throne, the massive marble seat fused seamlessly into the far wall. Colossal emerald crystals violently jutted from the stone behind the chair, forming a blazing, jagged crown. The massive gems pulsed with a deep, internal light, glowing in the rhythmic cadence of a beating heart. The light emitted a low, physical thrum that I could feel vibrating in my teeth.
Father turned and seated himself upon the marble. The pulsing emerald glow immediately washed over him, casting his battle-worn, soot-stained features in sharp, imposing shadows.
Beside me, a heavy thud echoed through the hall.
Daemon Targaryen had dropped to his hands and knees upon the polished marble. The sheer, sickening disorientation of Apparition, combined with the crushing, overwhelming majesty of the throne room, had finally shattered his Valyrian composure.
He pushed himself up unsteadily, his chest heaving in ragged gasps as if he had just sprinted a league in full plate armour. His pale purple eyes darted wildly, taking in the towering, inscribed pillars, the heavy stone doors sealed shut in the distance, and finally, the terrifying, glowing throne where my father sat with a captive god in his hand.
"What..." Daemon stammered, his voice hoarse and trembling. He spun toward Lily, then toward me, his hands grasping at the air as his mind desperately tried to catch up to his reality. "What just happened? Where in the fourteen flames are we?!"
He took a frantic, stumbling step toward the dais before freezing, his gaze locking onto the Imperator. The terror of the night's events finally boiled over into sheer, unfiltered panic.
"My dragon!" Daemon shouted, his voice cracking loudly in the vast hall. "What did you do to Caraxes?!"
Father merely settled into his august seat, his glowing emerald gaze fixed upon the desperate man below. "Your dragon killed my people, Targaryen," he stated, his voice resonating with a cold, terrifying calm against the cavernous walls of the hall.
Daemon's expression soured at the proclamation. "My bond with him was untethered by the blood magic," he stammered, his usual Valyrian arrogance entirely absent. "He only did what he did in confusion."
Father raised a single brow. His gaze shifted, locking onto Lily, who had just stepped forward to defend her new companion. One sharp, silent look from him froze her in her tracks.
"Since you have so easily explained away your beast's behaviour, we shall move to the next point of inquiry."
The remaining warmth in the hall plummeted. The colossal emerald crystals framing the throne began to gleam, resonating violently with Father's rising intent. The unholy, suffocating pressure that had previously been tamed returned with crushing force.
Daemon gasped, his knees buckling instantly as he was forced down onto the polished marble. Just as swiftly as it had appeared, the crushing weight vanished.
________________________________
With the first arc now complete I hope everyone is atleast satisfied with the way I told the story. I agree that there are some elements that may have been distatseful to you but I intend to keep improving to match audience expectation.
I ask you to please review the work and vote with powerstones. The first arc should be enough as a proof of concept as to how the story will progress. Thank you everyone.