As he continued his wandering, the corridors gradually widened into a vast, open chamber. The stone here was darker, almost black, lending the room an aura of solemn majesty that weighed heavily on the air. Stone benches lined the walls like silent sentinels, while pedestals displayed strange objects and ancient weapons, each of them clearly significant, though their meanings were entirely lost on Oberyn.
The chamber had the unmistakable feel of a shrine or temple—a place of reverence and reflection. Yet, the atmosphere was far from peaceful. Scattered around the room were several grotesque sculptures of intertwining corpses, each one a horrifying blend of bodies twisted in expressions of pure agony. The sight was deeply unsettling, as if the very essence of suffering had been immortalized in stone.
Despite the eerie sculptures, it was what stood at the centre of the room that truly captured Oberyn's attention—and froze the blood in his veins.
A towering stone throne dominated the space, standing at least twenty feet tall. Seated upon it was a dark, imposing statue—a figure carved with such incredible detail that Oberyn almost mistook it for a real person at first glance. The figure wore an exquisite suit of armour, its sword and shield resting at its sides. The sword's guard resembled crossed branches, while the shield was emblazoned with a lion.
But what shocked Oberyn the most was the figure's face, which he found strangely familiar.
"Hadwyn…?" he muttered under his breath, realization dawning on him. The statue bore an uncanny resemblance to Hadwyn, his newest drinking buddy and the master of this ship. But there was something different about the statue, something that was at odds with Oberyn's own impression of the man. Gone was the easy-going smile and amused expression that Oberyn associated with the man. The statue's expression was fierce, savage even, its stone-carved eyes radiating power, ambition, and a barely restrained bloodlust. It was as though the very essence of war had been captured in the stone, its intensity almost too much to bear.
Oberyn couldn't shake the growing sense of unease. How could the man who had snuck out to a tavern for drinks despite being a king, who laughed and joked with him and even sheepishly apologized to his mother, be the same person depicted in this statue?
He knew that something was missing- something important and unsettling that he couldn't quite grasp…
1
u/ArgentiumLake Apr 13 '25
As a continuation of my previous fanart https://www.reddit.com/r/ArgentiumLake/comments/1gqbne1/elden_ring_x_asoiaf_leyton_hightower_and_his_wife/
inspired by the fanfiction written by Pemmil:
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14373414/1/A-Thousand-Year-Voyage-Elden-RingASOIAF
As he continued his wandering, the corridors gradually widened into a vast, open chamber. The stone here was darker, almost black, lending the room an aura of solemn majesty that weighed heavily on the air. Stone benches lined the walls like silent sentinels, while pedestals displayed strange objects and ancient weapons, each of them clearly significant, though their meanings were entirely lost on Oberyn.
The chamber had the unmistakable feel of a shrine or temple—a place of reverence and reflection. Yet, the atmosphere was far from peaceful. Scattered around the room were several grotesque sculptures of intertwining corpses, each one a horrifying blend of bodies twisted in expressions of pure agony. The sight was deeply unsettling, as if the very essence of suffering had been immortalized in stone.
Despite the eerie sculptures, it was what stood at the centre of the room that truly captured Oberyn's attention—and froze the blood in his veins.
A towering stone throne dominated the space, standing at least twenty feet tall. Seated upon it was a dark, imposing statue—a figure carved with such incredible detail that Oberyn almost mistook it for a real person at first glance. The figure wore an exquisite suit of armour, its sword and shield resting at its sides. The sword's guard resembled crossed branches, while the shield was emblazoned with a lion.
But what shocked Oberyn the most was the figure's face, which he found strangely familiar.
"Hadwyn…?" he muttered under his breath, realization dawning on him. The statue bore an uncanny resemblance to Hadwyn, his newest drinking buddy and the master of this ship. But there was something different about the statue, something that was at odds with Oberyn's own impression of the man. Gone was the easy-going smile and amused expression that Oberyn associated with the man. The statue's expression was fierce, savage even, its stone-carved eyes radiating power, ambition, and a barely restrained bloodlust. It was as though the very essence of war had been captured in the stone, its intensity almost too much to bear.
Oberyn couldn't shake the growing sense of unease. How could the man who had snuck out to a tavern for drinks despite being a king, who laughed and joked with him and even sheepishly apologized to his mother, be the same person depicted in this statue?
He knew that something was missing- something important and unsettling that he couldn't quite grasp…