Chapter Text
14th Day of the 8th Month of the 278th Year since Aegon's Conquest
Jon Connington POV
It had come to him as a surprise, to be invited to the tourney at Storm's End.
It really shouldn't, but it did.
He never expected that after Lord Steffon Baratheon died under the waves, his son would throw a tourney in his honor and name it after him. But it was well known that Robert Baratheon was a boisterous man, full of life and even fuller with lust for any skirt that gets raised around or near him. There already were various rumors of him having a few bastards lying around at his young age, but now that he was Lord Baratheon and therefore Lord Paramount of the Stormlands no Lords could speak ill of him too loudly.
'Well, maybe it is better to have many bastards than fucking one... especially when he is not only a man, but also technically your brother.' John thought with a heavy and weary sigh, his head already hurting from continuously hearing the loud and blaring laughter of one Robert Baratheon as he drank himself into a haze.
Tourneys took a long time to prepare.
Especially when said tourney was thrown by a Lord Paramount! All Lords of every single house of their Lord Paramount's region are expected to participate in the tourney if not outright win some of them when outside competitors were also joining in the "fun". Hedge Knights were expected to join, many seeking to show off their skills and prowess so they could find employment under one of the lordly houses there present. Grand tourneys were very pricey to make, especially when the prize money was so hefty... To think Robert would pay 10,000 Gold Dragons for the first place, 5,000 Gold Dragons for the runner up, and 1,000 Gold Dragons for the third place!
He truly was generous
Or he got drunk when he was writing the rewards and had to commit to it, otherwise he risked seeming skeevy or otherwise ungrateful or uncharitable to his Lords and smallfolk alike. Either or, and at this point John is leaning on the "he was actually drunk when he wrote that", seeing as Robert was quite the drunkard.
Regardless, it took about a moon for all Lords to arrive at Storm's End, and each Lord brought their own provisions and their own people that wished to watch and participate in the tourney, which was not uncommon at all. In fact, John himself is going to participate alongside his silver prince-
"Seriously, you're still calling him that, little flower?"
-Rhaegar Targaryen...
Every single time John ever thought of his silver prince, there came the nagging voice of his brother, whispering right by his ear, mocking him and yet not... Making him remember and miss his presence, for in the time of his leave, John became the Lord of Griffin's Roost as their father passed away in his sleep in an eerily similar way to his mother, and his mistress was there in the bed with him as well. She had been pregnant before and had given birth to his father's bastard son, who he wished to legitimate but had died before he could put forward that notion. It was almost like the Seven were punishing yet another member of his family for sinning against them.
It not only made the servants talk, but it also made John wonder...
Will he be next?
"Ser Connington, my friend." Speaking of his silver prince, John turned to look at the long silver haired man who stood almost as tall as himself. Platinum hair was a trademark to all Targaryens and Rhaegar was not an exception to the rule, his eyes were also the same color as his fellow Targaryens. "It seems I have found you in a favorable time. It is, after all, tomorrow that the festivities truly begin as the tourney starts." With that same softly touched ethereal beauty that John has admired for the moment they first ever met to the moment they last saw one another but a few hours ago, Prince Rhaegar offered him his cup for a toast.
John clicked his cup to the prince's, keeping his face stoic and solid.
Yet another thing that he could not help but reminisce about... To be knighted by royalty was an honor beyond words, and to be knighted by the future king? That was even more valuable in the eyes of the world. But somehow, it felt a bit hollow to him whenever he thought about the prince's sword laying by his shoulders as he spoke those words and knighted him then and there.
Almost as hollow as when he became Lord of Griffin's Roost.
And that is one reason he sought to prove himself. He sought to make his name known- not only because he wanted the fame, the prestige, and the adoration of the masses, but also because he needed.
Jon Connington, and nobody else.
He has always been given things- His birth as the heir, his natural talent for the sword, his intellect, his name, his position as the prince's squire, his knighting, his raise to lordship, and so much more. He wanted to earn something, he wanted to become something, he wanted to prove to himself and to every single other living and breathing person in the Seven Kingdoms that John Connington deserved to be Lord.
Maybe he could keep his mind off of his brother if he did.
"A toast, then-" The prince smiled, and whereupon normally Jon would be ataken and entranced by the prince's heavenly beauty, there was something else to catch his eyes. His prince's voice echoed loudly in the halls of the Baratheons as he raised his cup, people turned to look at him, like they always did, and he smiled as he spoke: "-to the tourney, to Lord Steffon Baratheon, and to having a good time!"
"Cheers!"
But John's eyes were not in the crowd as they clicked their cups, nor was it with the Lords and Ladies as they mingled amidst themselves with a glee and mirth only brought by joyous partying.
It was in a figure by the corner.
Dappled in red armor with a cloak of red feathers by his shoulders, a helmet resembling the beak of a bird and a black shield depicting a crow with its wings wide open in flight. The figure was almost impossible to miss- and yet, somehow, people did just exactly that. They passed by him without turning to look at that massively built figure, without even bothering to give the crimson knight a look at all as he stood there with his large frame against the wall, staring right at him. John felt his heart start to beat faster than before, almost as if it knew before the mind ever could guess.
"John?"
And he snapped back out of whatever trance, whatever spell had held his eyes from that man- He turned to look at his prince, who looked at him a bit confused but also amused somewhat by whatever he saw on his face: "You are quite red, almost like your hair, you should stop drinking so much wine."
"Ah, yes..." John nodded and slowly turned to look back at that same wall, but he saw nobody. Not even a wisp of a shadow, a glimpse of what looked like a red feather fluttering out was all that he saw: "I guess I'll hold back the wine... Excuse me my prince, Ill put this back on the table." Under his prince's excuse, John walked towards the tables but also towards that wall where the red feather had fallen.
It took him some maneuvering, but he managed to reach it.
And there, right on the ground where the figure had been, sat a singular red feather... and a note, written in black in against a slightly pink parchment that smelled of flowers and a familiar scent that sent a shiver down his spine.
And as he read it, he could not help but make that man's voice echo inside his head.
[Miss me, little flower?]
15th Day of the 8th Month of the 278th Year since Aegon's Conquest
Garren Storm - The Red Crow POV
"Ser Red Crow."
Garren did not need to turn around to see who it was.
With a gruff and direct greeting of "White Shrike." Garren turned to look at one of his three apprentices that he taught [Tremlyn] to. Known as Maya before she took the name White Owl as she joined his Nest, the young woman was quite the terror of a battlefield. With a taste and need for Ironborn blood, she followed him as he slaughtered them a few moons back and both witnessed and participated in the slaughtering of a Horror Spawn by his side, the experience scarring her mind by temporarily taking away her ability to relax.
She will get it back, but until then, she is a stoic no nonsense woman.
And seeing as he is her teacher and has made her a Bestowed, she greatly and deeply respects him for his power and skill. And due to her trauma, she is much more comfortable by his side when he shamelessly just flat out answered a joke question by one of his hatchlings about when "fair maidens would raise their skirts to them" saying, and I quote, "I don't know, it's normally the men that pull their pants down to me" and laughing. The Nest was like a home to her, so when she heard he was going to participate on the Baratheons tourney and wanted four people to come with him, she volunteered immediately.
She was the leader of the Shrikes (infantry), and alongside her fellow apprentices Black Raven who was the leader of the Ravens (assassination) and Blue Jay who was the leader of the Jays (messengers), with the mysterious Grey Cuckoo leader of the Cuckoos (infiltration), Garren was confident that he could win this tourney and get every single one of his people to also get some good cash out of it.
"I have come to ask you a question, if I may?" Tilting her head to the side, White Shrike continued to speak only when the Red Crow gave a single nod, so she went straight to the point seeing as she did not see the need to skirt arojnd the edges of a question when simply asking kt was more efficient and direct: "Thank you. I would like to ask you this: Who was the man you seemed to invested on?"
"Oh, that's my brother."
"Ah... the one you fucked?"
"Yep. The same one."
Just like Maya did not see the need to skirt around questions, neither did Garren bothered to hide the question. He had no shame of it, and even when he knew that such a question would not be polite to be asked by just anyone and would lead to a scandal if overheard or shared, he had full trust... On the heart of his runes, of course.
【Rune-Smith】
You gain the knowledge to create magic runes, stones imbued with magic that are used to store spells.
You know how to prepare regular stone into blank runes using a simple spell. One cast can transform 500 grams of granite into 25 blank runes.
You begin with a basic understanding of runic spells, which allows you to imbue blank runes with a variety of spells: elemental attacks, magical barriers, status effects, and healing. You also have the necessary knowledge to develop more powerful runic spells.
One imbued rune can store one spell with multiple charges, up to twenty for weaker spells and as few as one for powerful spells. After the charges are exhausted, the rune crumbles to dust. To cast stored spells, you need to be in physical contact with the rune.
The easiest way is to hold the rune in your hand. Some users of magic runes have also developed special accessories, like gloves and bracelets, that allow them easy access to their runes. You have the blueprints for the basic variants of such equipment that can be built out of widely available materials like cloth and leather.
The necklace that hanged from his neck within his armor was full of runes, several runes that were there to reinforce his body, create shields within the armor to absorb impacts without showing a shiny sign for every single person in the world to know he could use magic, as well as the rather complex mixture of [Ward Magic], Planetos Enchanting, and [Rune Smith] magic that allowed him to suppress his presence while amplifying his "not important" aura to the point everyone would ignore his existence.
It was perfect to sneak anywhere and has already helped him get to his brother- and also helped him infiltrate and eliminate a cult that wanted to eat babies, but who cares? He could use this incredible magic alongside his various others to create something greater than the sum of its parts. He was still working on the portal network to become more efficient by trapping necessary energy for portal activation within rune glyphs, but that is still a work in progress...
Well, a work, since he isn't making much progress as of yet.
"Am I the only one who think that's weird? Only me? Okay."
"Yes, Raven, only you thinks that fucking ones brother is weird... everyone would do it, very clearly you're on your something."
"Wow, Jay, what a wonderful contribution to the conversation... such words."
Already feeling the headache incoming, Garren- the Red Crow -turned to look to his other two apprentices that could somewhat execute a perfect Tremlyn once every three or so attempts. Unlike him, who can truly and properly use the sword style with every single swing of his blade to cut through thick armor using his red valyrian sword, Red Rain.
Harton Flowers, also known as Blue Jay, was the acting leader of the messengers and those that dealt with information control within the Nest. He was the one that deal with the most of the paperwork within the organization alongside several of Garren's clones and a few people who were rejected by the Citadel on Oldtown for being "too old" or for "not having the constitution for learning" or whatever other excuse they had. All these people wwre being taught how to read and write as well as mathematics so they could work on the background of the organization, since Garren was still working on a procedure to identify and eliminate eldritch horrors based on his experiences.
He was also a Bestowed.
Likewise, the young man he had been speaking to was also a Bestowed.
Black Raven, also known as Brian Rivers, was given his position as the acting leader of the assassinations and investigation side of the Nest not only because of his talent for sneaking around, but also because he was a Skinchanger. Although his namesake resembled yet another very specific Three-eyed Raven, Garren used every single ounce of knowledge and power he had to make sure Brian was not the other raven. And although they did share an ancestry, Brian Rivers and Bryden Rivers were very different people.
Their souls could not be the same either, since Brian could not push his soul into Weirwood trees and thus he was not a Greenseer. Also, Garren did have to awaken Brian's potential for magic before he taught him how to enter the mind of a raven- which, ironically speaking, was the animal he most had an affinity for and thus had an easier time for a bond with and Skinchanging into.
"Well, if the Targaryens could fuck their own for generations, why couldn't I?" Garren shrugged, unbothered by the looks he got. He was their boss and he quite literally had no sense of shame or embarrassment, he could do anything and go anywhere without ever blinking or feeling like he should be ashamed of what he does. He had no pride in fucking his brother, but he did do exactly that, why should he be ashamed of it? "Besides, he can't get pregnant... Although I could change that at this point."
His skill with magic- especially Skinchanging, [Ward Magic], and Fleshcrafting -had grown to the point where he was able to finely tune his body, maximizing it's growth with minimal mutation and unwanted change. He even was able to fix his previous mistakes, further pushing himself to beyond humanity and becoming an amalgamation of the best traits of the animals he could get his hands on. He could not only take and graft traits from on animal into somebody's body, his experiments with magic allowed him to learn a bit of Blood Magic and how to even manipulate flesh using the soul.
So, yes, he could force a male body to undergo a process in which they grow a womb that can produce eggs. The process would be very, very painful for the man while it is happening but Garren's understanding of biology allowed him to either ease the process or increase the pain, depending if he wants to make the subject suffer or not.
"That is a terrifying thought." Raven shuttered, hia body visibly and even audibly (to Garren's ears) stuttering. "Never say that to me again!" The singular raven on his left shoulder nodded along to his words, making even Garren smirk under his helmet.
There was a clicking sound before the door to the room they were waiting in opened, and walking in came a cloaked man wearing a grey bird mask. He took one knee before Garren and spoke, voice sounding muffled and strange: "Overseer, the preparations have been made. The tourney is about to start." That man was none other than the Grey Cuckoo, the leader of the infiltration and seeding side of the Nest.
He was also one of Garren's clones.
In fact, the majority of the Nest itself was composed of Garren's clones. Not only due to the convenience of simply having more and more people joining the organization and thus bolstering their numbers, but also because they were all loyal to him and would never betray him, but also because they all had a copy of his mind and he could enter their bodies via Skinchanging without a problem.
Thus, within the Nest, Garren was the Overseer.
There was nothing he could not see or could not hear within his Nest.
"Good." Garren nodded to his clone. All Cuckoos from the Nest were his clones, and that was the largest part of his organization... which was kinda becoming something akin to the infamous SCP Foundation. "Suit up, everyone. If we are to be placed against one another, make sure you do not disappoint me."
"Aye, Ser."
"Very well, Ser Crow."
"Understood, Ser."
Turning to leave the room, the crimson color of fresh blood glistened in his armor, making it flash bright for a split second. A little bit of the blood was pulled free from the armor storage, and it splashed against one of the blank spell runes Garren always had with himself- And he easily painted a familiar symbol. [Rune Smith] was quite like [Ward Magic], since it took gave him a collection of runes and symbols that represented spells he could cast, and he could interchangeably use either to cast both magics.
The same also happened when he received [Portal Crafting], which gave him a list of blueprints and knowledge on how to make portals using magic and technology, magic just happened to be the easiest option for him because it would take decades, maybe even centuries before he had the infrastructure for technology that advanced.
Thus, his knowledge of magic received a huge boon when he received [Rune Smith] and [Portal Crafting], allowing him to experiment a lot with.
But the symbol he painted with blood was a simple [Eye] symbol. He crushed the rune immediately after, and an awareness filled his mind as he instantly could feel the room he was in within his mind- and he easily could tell there were no invisible people inside it besides his own, and no hidden holes on the wall someone could be listening or watching from.
And like that, a little of his paranoia was satiated for now.
"Come, it is time to make some easy money."