The Dragon Temple of Valyria
"You're the most polite god I have ever met, Lord Caraxes, along with Lord Arrax, who was the same. You do not know how relieved I am after meeting you, because I thought all gods were the same as the three I met before. Do I need to be aware that one of the gods has already chosen his champion as we speak?" Laenor asked. Coming here with Percy Jackson's power, he had thought his life would be easier, save for a few foolish assassins and political maneuverings, but it seemed life was never easy in any world, be it this one or his previous one.
"No, we are ahead of everyone. But they will not fall behind for long; if our sight does not deceive us, then soon there will be many champions who will lead their gods' worshippers in a crusade to expand their religions," Lord Caraxes replied. There was a moment of silence before Laenor opened his eyes and gazed at the statue of Caraxes, the God of the Sea.
"I would like to have some time before I make my decision," Laenor replied. He would have refused if not for his lack of information on how powerful these other champions could be. From what little he had gathered, Laenor at least knew that this was a kind of game for the gods, and that the Valyrian Gods were not players but enforcers of the rules, tasked with ensuring it did not spiral out of control.
"Very well, child. You may take some days, but we hope you choose to become our champion. We are certain it would benefit both you and us," the Lord of the Sea replied in a gentle voice.
"I will try." That was the only response Laenor gave mentally, his eyes drifting toward the other thirteen statues, and a question surfaced in his mind. Before Lord Caraxes could withdraw from his thoughts, Laenor hastily asked, "Lord Caraxes, would there not be fourteen champions, or do you intend to make only one?"
"If an enigma and exception such as you were not present, then there would have been two champions of the Fourteen Flames. But if you agree, then we see no need to create another. Not that there are limitations to making fourteen, but there are rules: each faction of gods is only allowed to grant a certain amount of power. It is up to the gods to decide whether they wish to divide that power into fourteen parts, seven, or one," Lord Caraxes replied patiently. "If it would entice you to accept our request, we will add one more thing—we would also bless your mate, or any person of your choosing, to become our champion as well, if you so desire," Lord Caraxes added with amusement. "Now, if that is all, we shall take our leave, child." With a mental nod from Laenor, the God of the Sea's presence vanished from his mind.
Instantly, his head felt lighter a hundredfold, as if a great weight had been lifted from it. Laenor released a breath he had not realized he was holding before looking at the fourteen statues with a complicated expression on his face. With one last glance at the priests and sorcerers, Laenor took his leave.
Should he inform his family about this matter? It was the first thought that came to his mind. Laenor was neither proud nor arrogant, but he knew they were his weakness to anyone who understood his power well. Until now, there had not been many who could challenge him, and those who could now feared his strength too much to act against him—but that would soon change. There would be others his powerless enemies could turn to for aid. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that they needed to relocate to the Syrax Tower of Zaldri and begin training in earnest.
Laenor soon reached Embaryx, mounted his dragon, and steered his mount toward the Blackfyre Tower.
Blackfyre Tower
Rhaenys Velaryon was sitting on a comfortable chair in one of the rooms provided to the Velaryons by their host—her namesake, or was it the other way around, Rhaenys Belaerys? Her son had just returned from his curious visit to the Temple of Valyria and had dropped a bomb that did more damage to their family than any of Vaemond's ever did to the Triarchy. Rhaenys had stopped wondering when life had started to change from her family and dragons being the most powerful force in the world to… someone like her son, who could kill a dragon without even lifting a finger.
But to hear that more people would emerge with power as absurd as his in time—people who would not stand at their side but against them—jolted her enough out of the haze of too much dragonwine she had been consuming. Rhaenys had always wondered how her son was so powerful. The words of the Faceless Men had planted a seed of doubt and confusion when that woman proclaimed Laenor to be either divine or one of the divine's—meaning a son of a god, if Rhaenys had not misunderstood.
When she confronted Laenor about this, he had simply waved it off as the Faceless Men speaking in cryptic riddles. And though she knew her son was hiding something, he did not reveal anything even after she pestered him for moons. So Rhaenys turned to the books and old scrolls that her husband's family possessed, and those he had brought back from his voyages, yet even there she remained unsuccessful, her curiosity unsated. After some time, Rhaenys simply gave up and decided to accept things as they were. Laenor was her and Corlys's son; nothing would change that.
But now, hearing her son's words, she knew that some divine being had already blessed him, and it must have happened when he returned from death, Rhaenys is still not able to forget that day when she almost lost her son, her child to the waters of the sea. From that moment onward, everything had begun to change; it all made sense to Rhaenys now, and she could not help but feel a glimmer of pride at solving the nagging mystery that had lingered in her mind ever since her son began displaying such powers. And to think she and Corlys had believed their son was a dreamer who knew things through visions. No, their son was… something else—half-god, or perhaps the champion of some god, maybe one of waters, ocean, and sky, if Laenor's powers were anything to judge by.
And now her son was being offered another blessing by the Valyrian Gods—would he become a god himself at the rate things were progressing? Rhaenys would not even be surprised if, one day in the future, Laenor simply announced that he had become a god. She came out of her musings when Corlys, who was seated beside her in another chair, placed his hand on her shoulder.
Corlys was looking at her with a raised eyebrow. Rhaenys' gaze shifted toward her children, only to find them immersed in conversation among themselves. She then turned back to her lord husband and said, "Nothing—I was thinking about how we would deal with these upcoming threats." She did feel a twinge of guilt for not sharing her thoughts with Corlys, but she decided she would speak with Laenor first before confiding in her lord husband.
"Well, Laenor is receiving a boost to his powers as well, isn't he? It will be much the same as it is now. I do not think you need to trouble yourself over this," Corlys replied, without any worry or caution on his face.
"It seems my son's powers have muddled my lord husband's mind too much. Where is Corlys, who grows distressed and plans ten steps ahead over the smallest of changes?" Rhaenys asked, amusement and curiosity coloring her voice.
"Well, that Corlys has embarked on a voyage of retirement and relaxation after discovering his son is the most powerful man in the world," Corlys replied with a proud tone, his gaze drifting toward Laenor, who was arguing with Laena. Though Rhaenys did not for a moment believe that her son isn't also paying attention to their conversation.
"I pray to the Fourteen that he remains as he is, for we may need his strength to survive what is coming, Corlys. The world we know is changing too quickly, and I cannot help but think Laenor will be at the center of it all," Rhaenys said.
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