《The Writings of Aelyx the Strange (ASOIAF)》 Welcome to Westeros Friday 1JanuaryFirst Moon 273AC I''m not too sure how to begin even writing this... diaries are a new concept for me. Yet it in my current situation, it''s rather imperative I write down these thoughts I simply refuse forget this knowledge. Right, I should begin with who I am now and almost certainly who I was before. My name is Aelyx Targaryen, formerly Alex Evans native of one city called London, now I''m a prince in what I thought was a fantasy novel. Anyway I am now Prince Aelyx Targaryen of The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, second born of Aerys Targaryen II. Yes that Aerys "the Mad King" even now the madness is within him, I can see it in that mans eyes... I refuse to call him my father none of these people are my family they''re all monsters save perhaps Queen Rhaella my "Mother". Now can you imagine what it''s like as someone mentally twenty-eight stuck in the body of a mere six year old child add in the pressures of nobility, Westeros itself and a not so stable father. It has not been an exactly carefree second chance at life, yet I cannot help be appreciative of the chance and most definitely the... talents I''ve been blessed with by whatever deity sent me here. The opportunities this has granted me are not to be overstated, I''ve gained a new thirst for knowledge, especially that of which is magical in nature. The East calls for me. Yeen, Asshai, the Isle of Toads, High Tower, the Five Forts, Leng, the Thousand Islands, Ib, the Hidden City, K''Dath, Gogossos and even Carcosa. I must... I must simply see all these mysterious lands, learn their magic and satisfy my own curiosity that the books would have never answered. I am however not a fool, the resources my ambitions require are rather immense and frankly I cannot even begin to gather them in my current state, no for now I''ve hidden away portions of gold I''ve received hidden in the loose mortar bricks underneath my bed. It''s not much but it''s a start and I have plenty of time before Roberts Rebellion, nine years may not seem like a long time but it will be enough with adequate planning. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The universe or perhaps some deity has blessed me with a supernatural degree of charisma I''ve never seen or had before... perhaps it''s simply a byproduct of not being from this world? I can speculate at a later date, either way it makes my goals much easier and for that I''m grateful. I had considered that just maybe I shouldn''t write this down on parchment, maybe someone would discover these writings and gain information they shouldn''t have. Then I discovered that the Common Tongue while similar to English, this worlds writing system is not the modern equivalent I''m used to making this journal practically illegible to all people but me. It would take a dedicated maester months or even years to fully decode this to their archaic system. With my fears removed I can write this all down in confidence that to the average servant who may find this book, it is imply the scribbles of the strange child they see me as. Speaking or well writing of servants, they talk about me behind my back as if I cannot hear them? Adults underestimate children, how typical. They call me strange, cold and even touched by the Stranger. The royal court and the lords do as well, it does not bother me however. Why should the rumours and gossip bother me? I have no interest in the throne nor land or titles. Well I already know how it ends. I will be nowhere near this continent when Tywin Lannister rides through the gate of King''s Landing as it burns. I will be gone too the wind like a phantom, perhaps the stag will send knives to hunt me down, I doubt it though I shall be long gone. The people of Westeros can deal with The Others and their Night King. They did it thousands of years ago, they can do it again. I shall end this entry here, my candle grows dim and the guard should arrive soon to escort me to dinner. Aerys is facing a period of lucidity at the moment, he acts as perhaps a normal father at the moment. It''s almost a matter of time till he fully snaps and slips into the dragon''s madness. It is only a matter of time. Wildfire 3rd Second Moon 273 AC The Red Keep is growing colder, not necessarily in temperature but still there''s a chill in the air. I''d say it''s actually the atmosphere. The weight of schemes, plots, lies and treachery whispered in the shadows yet so clearly visible it''s almost embarrassing how dull courtiers can be. I suppose it is simply the everyday experience of a royal court full of half-witted power grubbing lords and ladies. Today... well tonight the coldness of the keep doesn''t bother me as much as it usually would. I''ve achieved a small victory, in the grand scheme of things it''s minor but a victory is still a victory. I''ve charmed and swayed, the doomed to die, Ser Gwayne Gaunt he''s member of the Kingsguard specifically he is however tasked with my protection. He''s loyal enough but what matters is his loneliness, he is simply an opportunity to exploit. I gave him some attention talked to him about mundane things and he fell hook, line and sinker. Gwayne isn''t Arthur Dayne but he''s decent enough in the arts of combat, an ally is an ally, a tool is a tool after all. I plant the seeds now and when the storm comes I shall have trees to shield some of the blow. The man speaks of his family and duties, what he left behind to become one of the seven guards. He promised to start personally teaching me swordplay, in private of course at my own insistence. Aerys certainly won''t approve in his madness or in his lucidity. He is still however rather lucid the Defiance at Duskendale hasn''t pushed him off the proverbial edge just yet. Court itself was apparently as dull as it usually is today, no matter that though today I found myself in the library. I poured over any text I could find specifically on the Valyrian Freehold and it''s magics. To be blunt, it was painfully difficult, Westerosi scholars and Maesters certainly don''t write with the same level of clarity as modern historians did. I did however confirm something I already thought I knew from my more... special knowledge. The dragonlord''s magic required sacrifices usually of blood but potentially of materials too. The exact methods were maddeningly vague, I doubt there was much there anyway royal library or not. There definitely isn''t a how to guide on blood magic, maybe in Valyria itself but not here. Dragonstone perhaps has more information but not much I''d wager. If I''m to put all these fragments together I''ll have to progress in learning High Valyrian no matter how difficult mastering that strange tongue is for me. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Magic, real actual magic just out of reach... the thought is almost intoxicating. The answers lay in the East and potentially a few can be found in the North? No matter, I''m simply not ready for that kind of travel, the body of a six year old child being an obvious reason. I''ve let the rumours spread amongst the servants and even the peasants "The Stranger Touched Prince" they call me. Good let them fear what they don''t understand, let them think what they wish to think and believe. Fear is a useful tool in certain circumstance. The blood of the dragon flows through my veins now, whether I like that or not. "The Lion shouldn''t concern itself with the opinions of the sheep" Tywin once said something to that effect, let the same be said for the dragon. I wonder if the blood itself carries more than innate magic of fire and dragons, perhaps it carries the madness that festers in Aerys and Rhaegar. Is that madness the magic or in the inbreeding? I suppose it may be both... a dangerous thought, am I mad. No I am not mad, I won''t be. I had a thought about magic that doesn''t lay far away, specifically the magic that is in the city itself. Wildfire, the Alchemist''s Guild. I''m not mad enough to try and recreate it on my own, I value not being burnt alive rather painfully at that. It however hasn''t stopped me from theorising on how it''s made. Speculated Ingredients of Wildfire? To start there has to be a base fuel of some kind, it''s perhaps alchemical in nature similar to the elusive Greek Fire I''d guess. Some kind of tar or oil? Next comes an oxidizing agent... saltpeter? I''m not sure on this. Now apart from the spells used in wildfire''s creation there is almost definitely some kind of magic catalyst. Powdered dragonbone? No probably not perhaps obsidian powder or sulphur? Whatever it is, it must have a link to fire and heat. Or it''s blood... Fire and Blood. Wildfire is known for being unstable at best and dangerous to handle... there has to be some kind of stabilizing ingredient whether magical or chemical I don''t know. Wildfire burns hotter than normal fire and practically impossible to extinguish in large amounts, water won''t work... sand however does. Another thought is why it burns green, possibly due to a copper compound or magic. It''s a thought for another time. Either way the Guild keeps the formula a tightly bound secret, I''ll have to acquire it somehow... in the meantime I have want to practice basic blood magic. I shall gain one of the castles rat catchers under my employ... there is a mute one. Now that''s fortunate for me... I''ll call him Cheese for the irony if nothing else. I''ll start practicing with rats for now, as I learn more I''ll progress to more substantial animals. I must be careful with this though, one misstep and well I may end burning just as brightly as the Wildfire I want to study. The Next Step 20th Eleventh Moon 274 AC More than a year has past since my last entry, I felt no significant need to write it, progress has been slow but certainly steady. I am now in my seventh, going on eighth, year in this damnable world of Planetos if you wish to call it that. Not that it matters I suppose. I''ve come to the conclusion that the perception of time does change depending on age, it grows quicker in correlation to it I''ve decided. So yes time... this life has gone dreadfully slow as of yet perhaps with upcoming events it may not be so... well I''d almost call it boring if court intrigue was ever boring. Anyway, I''m taller, stronger and seemingly healthier of course it''s nothing compared to my old very much adult body yet an improvement is an improvement. Writing is far easier with more dexterity in my hands and less short fingers... that''s almost embarrassing to write even if no one will ever read this. My guard Ser Gwayne continues to prove useful perhaps he''s even becoming more than just a tool... an ally? My swordplay has improved sufficiently under his tutelage, of course this young body acts as a limit towards my progress. Besides I doubt I shall ever be more than adequate, the sword is an annoying necessity, like a chore it has to be done, even if I don''t care for it. It''s enough to protect myself from the average swordsmen I doubt I shall ever cross weapons with men like Selmy or Dayne... hopefully. Back to Gwayne, he has become my main source of information in regards to the happenings of the court and realm. The man in his duty and his loneliness tells me more than he probably should, not like I''ll complain. Gwayne and the Ratcatcher under my employ means I effectively know most of the goings on in the Red Keep, the walls are listening and they sing to me. The King... no Aerys grows worse and worse as time goes on. Any light of lucidity in his eyes has at last died, soon Duskendale will see them darken further still. I''ve considered somehow arranging for Aerys to never leave that castle alive, though I''m afraid at how that would render my knowledge of the future useless. Last week, he had a poor serving boy''s tongue removed for "speaking too loudly" in his presence. Ser Gwayne said that the boy apparently did not speak a word. Does this mean Aerys has become so bad he''s experiencing auditory hallucinations? Anyway Aerys snapped earlier this year because Jaehaerys, my little brother, died three months ago... he was barely a few months old himself. Breathing difficulties I''m informed, the babe''s lungs were too weak, I was surprised at the time that I felt sad... I knew the boy was doomed to die. Perhaps I could have prevented the death, probably not though. The boy''s wet-nurse Catelyn was blamed for his death, her and her entire family were tortured until they falsely confessed to murder. Then they were sent to the headsmen''s block. Rhaella... Mother has to bare the brunt of the King''s madness, the sounds from the royal chambers frighten even me. Viserys will be born from these horrors, I''ll try and spare the boy the childhood that led to his madness. If I can. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Rhaegar remains absorbed in his scrolls and prophecies, blind to the suffering around him. Perhaps he does see it and chooses his course of inaction? I suppose in the end it doesn''t matter, I''ll write to him... perhaps he can convince Aerys to send me to Dragonstone. I may not like Rhaegar but he''s better than The Mad King. Besides the island holds more than obsidian, it holds both more books than King''s Landing... it also may hold some lost clutch of dragon eggs. If I remember correctly... Winterhold may also hold a clutch in it''s catacombs. The Alchemist''s Guild remains much to my chagrin barred to me, all my efforts to gain a proverbial foot into the door have failed. For now my investigation into wildfire will have to be relegated to the backburner. The components of it both material and magical remain unknown to me, I''ll have to fully focus on the magic of my bloodline. My studies of High Valyrian progresses well enough, the grammatical structure still confuses me at times, but I can now at least read most basic texts. The more complex texts remain difficult and a tad beyond me, still I''m up to the challenge. The library itself holds more than I initially thought it did, yet it''s contents are fragmented and elude me still. A new shipments of books arrived from Oldtown recently. A tome I was the most interested in was on the construction techniques of the Freehold, it didn''t provide much information yet it was still an interesting read. The men who who travelled with the shipment was confused on how the book ended up in the shipment. A little gold made him quickly forget he saw anything of course. My experiments in regards to blood magic has been extremely enlightening. The power of magic lies in the blood itself, death and sacrifice. To perform blood magic a sacrifice must be made, the larger the sacrifice the more powerful or successful the spell. A law of equivalent exchange I suppose, I''ve documented the specifics in a different tome that I keep hidden on my person. Anyway, the rats taught me much but now I''ve progressed onto larger animals, cats mostly. Their deaths will serve a greater purpose than anything they''d do in the alleyways of Flee Bottom. While writing this I saw a shape in the candle... the shape of a women bathed in red and fire? I''m unsure what this means, I suppose time will supply the answer. Tidings of Eastern Fire To Her Most Illuminated Grace, High Priestess Kinrava of The Temple of the Lord Of Light Most Blessed One. I''ve written this urgent letter to you with news of great importance, The Lord of Light has in his benevolence saw fit to bless me with a most fortunate vision. During my routine communion with our Lord''s sacred fires. I was granted a blessing unlike anything I''ve ever witnessed before. I have never had such a vision be so clear and with such clarity, as you know our visions can sometimes be misinterpreted the delusions of us mortals to think we may truly understand the divine. Yet I have not misinterpreted this vision was as clear as the river Ash is dark. I saw an island in the glare of a sunset, despite the blazing sun the island was dark and misty. Like a craggy rock jutting out of the ocean, battered by wind and the kind of storms that shatter ships amongst those very rocks. Despite the cold of the island it also felt warm at the same time, if such can be believed. On the rock sat a great fortress of stone, blackstone though not the type that drinks of light, the fortress was adorned with iconography of dragons. I believe this place to be some kind of remnant of Old Valyria, weakened and diluted though it is. With the sunset and the icons, I can only guess that this place is to the west. On this rock there was a figure wreathed in a veil of shadows yet underneath this veil was fire. Fire of lava, pure unadulterated heat. I was expecting the cold ice of the enemy yet I find the opposite. This figure was both young and old, from one angle I saw a child, another I saw a man. It''s odd yet the fires do not lie, this figure holds great importance in the great war and the battles to come. It seems that magic has seen a resurgence as well though I''m sure you are already aware, perhaps the two phenomenon are linked. It appears that the Valyrians are once again an important part of the balance. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. What I witnessed was unlike any other visions I''ve ever seen in the holy light, I do not believe this it be false nor a misinterpretation on my own part. I believe R''hllor himself has granted me the divine purpose and task to seek this being out. I intend to guide and teach this individual to the true ways of this world and into the Lord''s light. The vision suggests this figure is important and yet young so it is of great importance it is properly educated. I must undertake this journey west and complete my task. Therefore, I humbly request your blessing on this arduous yet favourable task I am to undertake. I shall journey to this dragon fortress there I shall if possible establish a new temple to our Lord there. I shall serve as a teacher and advisor to this figure as the Lord of Light has revealed them to be worthy and necessary in our great purpose. I shall depart on the next favourable wind, should the lord grant me luck I should be nearing Volantis as you receive this missive. I shall visit the temple and seek out your guidance if you would permit me to. May the Lord of Light guide your path. Melisandre Humble Servant of our Lord Futures Glimpse 8th Fifth Moon 2... It was a dreary day in September, the clouds darkened with the beginnings of a storm. Rain battered against the windows of my small abode as the wind made the walls creak yet they still stood strong. It wasn''t an unusual occurrence England was well known for it''s poor weather, even if such renown was overexaggerated at times. I remember waking to the incessant beeping of my alarm, it was around seven, the sun was just beginning to rise though the storm masked the majority of it''s light. I lingered in bed for longer than I needed to, after I had no need to wake up truly. Economic crisis after crisis had left the job market in a downwards spiral towards the maws of oblivion, so I had no employment to go to my days were free and empty. To some that may sound like a dream come true, it''s not as if money was an issue the inheritance from my father covered that, what pained me was the monotony. I remember having barely the energy to take care of my base needs let alone socialise with others or leave the house. Simply put life had lost it''s lustre, if it ever truly had any. I am a child of winter in both of my lives, born during a blizzard in the first and unnatural cold in the second. I find it funny to be born into the House of Fire, I am under no delusion of being Azor Ahai reborn or anything like it though. I had originally planned to head east as soon as possible yet now... I will go to The North first. Past Winterfell, past The Wall and beyond that. I intend to go to past it all to the heart of winter itself. First I have to research and make precautions in regards to the Others. Perhaps they won''t attack a fellow dead man? We shall see. Eventually I clambered out of bed and ready myself for that grim day ahead. I broke my fast on a rather plain bowel of cereal, to compensate for this I allowed myself to add the slightest touch of honey. I don''t remember it''s been far too long for such specific details, perhaps it was sweet or maybe as bitter as the cold that day. I spent the rest of that morning simply reading ''The King in Yellow'' around noon the storm appeared to have cleared, so I decided perhaps a walk would do me some good. And so I did walk around the local neighbourhood, then it happened. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. In less than a few seconds clear sun was consumed by darkness. Clouds of black choked the sky like a thick blanket of smog and the rain pelted down as a sudden thunderous storm appeared like magic. It came with a ferocity I had never seen before, the wind tore at loose objects wrenching bins from where they sat and causing the trees to sway violently. Then I heard it, death itself, a crackle of thunder echoed in the sky and then a flash of white... after that nothing. I believe I was struck by lightning and that''s what ended my first life. Whether this was a natural storm or not I don''t know in the end does it matter anymore? I''m not sure how long I spent floating in the void minutes, months or even years? I suppose time has little meaning in the place of nothingness. Then it happened, light and a sudden pain. It hurt to breathe and all the return of all my senses was well overwhelming, no wonder infants cry when your first breathes are pure agony until the brain adjusts. It was awful... a horrible experience I never wish to repeat, I''m glad true consciousness doesn''t form in regular people until much later on. To be helpless and immobile it''s a vile... utterly vile thing I hated it with all my being. Of course the family I had been born to didn''t help, the first time I saw Aerys I felt utter terror at that. Now I see him for what he is, I am not scared of the lunatic and he''ll die as he''s destined to, if not on Jaimie Lannister''s sword... well I''m sure I can arrange something. Looking in the mirror nowadays, I can barely recognise myself from my previous life.. well not like I would ever. Yet my appearance differs from the typical Valyrian features perhaps these years of more foul magics have left their mark? My eyes once the typical Targaryen violent are closer to twilight. They have darkened to such a deep purple it borders on black. This doesn''t help the rumours surrounding me and my supposed connection to the Stranger, not that servants are necessarily wrong after... what I plan to do. My hair now falls past my shoulders, I''ve taken to simply leaving it untied, strands and patches of once silver-blonde hair have turned black. Mother was the first to truly notice but she never commented on it though I don''t know why. I stand taller than Rhaegar now but I''m not as well built as him, I''m far more spindly no doubt due to my neglect of more martial pursuits. The blood of Valyria still flows strong enough I have the stereotypical high cheekbones, fine features, the usual superficial beauty of the dragonlords. Though my face is far more angular? I suppose would be the correct term. Either way appearance wise this body is superior to my old one. Fourteen years old and I''m already marked by magic... though with what I intend to do, well we''ll have to wait and see.