The Necromancer King (A Game Of Thrones)

Uncertain Bloodline

After the House of Black and White was entirely cleared, Aerion stood with his new band of priests, servants, acolytes and faceless men. They fought back rather well but they met their god of death soon enough... for only a short while.

"I've thought about reining in these assassins... and learning their secrets," Aerion stated, sheathing his sword. "Now, House Martell won't threaten anyone with them. They will become my weapon instead."

"Can't say assassination is your style," Jocelyn replied.

"True, it is not... but changing one's face with such ease would be useful in more ways than one. While Aegon is busy with his conquest, I may as well learn some new tricks, no?"

"Suppose I should too while you're at it."

...

The facets of Faceless men training included many of the things that Aerion excelled at. Fighting, lying and acting... it did not take long for his Faceless subjects to approve of his abilities in those regards. Then he learned about the many poisons or rather, learned more about them. From the gentle and sweet sweetsleep to the odourless Tears of Lys to the savoury basilisk blood that will drive any beast mad (or man).

Lastly, he learned to change his face. It was a strange magic that allowed him to take another man's face and make it his own. Although, when he looked inside of his own body, nothing was different... only the outer appearance. After learning this type of magic, he put it to practice in Braavos and infiltrated the Iron Bank while making the rest of the Faceless men take care of the Sealord.

...

It was not long until Braavos was secured, with the Sealord and magisters now green-eyed. The Sealord of Braavos then declared his support for House Targaryen, providing his navy to the master of ships and Lord admiral himself. Aerion then took this navy south, merging it with his fleets at King's Landing and Lys.

"You said one year, right? She can't seduce me half a world away." Aerion laughed.

"Hmph, that wouldn't count."

"You never said anything about distance. When you make bets with me... you ought to be more specific."

"You said I was 'hardly worthwhile' and yet you're grinning..."

"Every victory over you is quite sweet." Aerion shrugged.

"Alright...good thing is these days don't count. You have to be in Visenya's vicinity for a year."

"Moving the goalpost, I see. Not that I was interested in the bet anyway."

"Mhm... right."

~

Aerion left much of his navy at Lys, which was conveniently near Sunspear, and sailed east. He landed in Volantis and took some more gold before sailing out to Astapor. His journey at sea had taken quite a few moons despite the use of magic but Aerion was fine with taking his time. He quite enjoyed the sea and spent the days finishing off his set of books, practising magic and living his life with Jocelyn.

...

Aerion went over to the Unsullied masters to bargain, accompanied by Bellona and Jocelyn.

"The Unsullied have something better than strength. They have discipline." The slave master told Aerion in high valyrian, a tongue Aerion was more than fluent in. "They are the lockstep legions of Old Ghis come again, absolutely obedient, absolutely loyal and utterly without fear."

"How many of them do you have?" Aerion asked, looking down on the slaver.

"Six thousand six hundred and sixty-nine fully trained and blooded Unsullied. The Unsullied are the finest foot in the world... so how many do you intend to buy?"