A Dragon's Dreamby ericson03ChaptersThe final farewellFrom flight to fightFire and bloodThe final farewell“You’d ought not to push yourself, my lord” Jedessa urged as she nervously watched the old man slowly walk down each step. The old man gave off an airy laugh that wove its way down the staircase like wind. He knew his limits but he could not help but poke fun at the girl’s concern. “If i were to despair at every staircase in this old place i wouldn't have made it past a hundred, my dear.” Jedessa frowned, she had long since gotten used to her master’s impetuousness to his own safety yet it still worried her. Moving down every step, one by one she stayed in front of him whilst leaning against the railing in case he might fall forward. “But you’re not a hundred anymore, my lord. You’re the last of the Targaryens to remain here at almost-” She paused, for not even she knew how old her lord was in truth. The old man suddenly stopped, the steady clank of his staff meeting stone coming to a sudden end. He opened his eyes, what shone once like amethysts now were a milky color with but a trace of purple in them. He looked at her, seeing her beautiful figure outlined by her dress almost seem to shimmer in the glow of candlelight around them. It had been many years now but he still remembered when he met her in the winding streets of Tyria. She had silver hair cut just above her shoulder, a slender figure and purple eyes like he once had. “How many years have you served me now?” He asked. “Fourteen my lord, approaching fifteen now.” She responded in a softened tone, seeming to look beyond him as she remembered. The day she had arrived at the great dragonkeep of the capital as an orphan at no more than ten years of age. From life as the daughter of a lowborn cook she had risen to personal servant of the patriarch of one of the great families of dragonriders. “And in those years, have you known me to overestimate myself?” She looked at him briefly, the gentle smile he wore nearly removed all worry as he hunched over his staff. The same smile he wore the day she met him. She had been starving and fearing for her life as a group of escaped slaves gathered around her, pushing her legs open as she screamed. Yet despite the terror of that day, it was a happy memory as what came afterward made it all worth it. A figure had appeared and drew away the darkness of the alley like a fire, guards came rushing in and soon she was alone with him. She had been in pain, but now that pain was gone and she knew she was seeing the face of a dragonlord. She felt herself lifted up and she had thought that this was the end for her. And then the figure spoke to her. And she knew she was safe. “No, my lord.” She said, then giving a wry grin as she switched to a hushed tone. “With the exception of your abilities to handle Lord Kelion’s firewines.” The old man clicked his tongue in veiled amusement. “Insolent pup.” Straightening his back slightly, the old man extended his arm and gave way to his right. “Very well, if it makes you feel better i'll let you help i suppose.” Smiling, she walked up and reached around his back, allowing him to brace himself against her. He was every bit as light as the staff she now held in her right hand. Valyrian steel, dark, weeping with red rubies lining the top. She kissed the side of his head softly. “Thank you for indulging this servant girl.” “You’re more than a servant, Jedessa.” He responded with a smile as they started working their way down the stairs, “Was my attendance at your wedding not proof of that?” “Perhaps,” She responded, “But I also remember someone leaving early that day.” He frowned grimly. “I did not wanna take away attention from the groom and bride.” “We both know that isn’t true.” She said abruptly, glancing at him. “You changed. As did your family.” His eyes closed again as he sighed. “You carry a gentle heart, Jedessa, you needn’t worry yourself over this.” “Daenys, Aenar, Gaemon, Elaena, everyone but you left.” She continued nonetheless. “Is…” Jedessa paused. “Is it true what Daenys said? About the fall?” There was silence, broken only by the sound of footfalls on stone. “I don't know.” He responded, in an unusually grave tone. “I don’t know…” The rest of the walk down continued in silence as Jedessa pondered over what might come. She had served her lord through fourteen long years and throughout all that time she had never seen him truly afraid. For every moment she saw him he wore the veil of a sly wolf, using the cunning of his mind as a sword as his body failed him. Yet here in this moment, he was not Amisar the immortal dragonlord of house Targaryen, but an old man, afraid. “Oh thank the gods, I thought these stairs would never end.” The silence was broken by the thankful words of Amisar seeing the light at the bottom of the stairs. Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Jedessa almost instinctively responded. “You and me both, my lord, I thought that I might have to carry you to the bottom with how you were trembling.” The words came out of her mouth before she could even catch herself and she quickly placed a hand over her mouth. But just as she did, a hand quickly flicked her forehead. “Quiet you.” Amisar chastised with a chuckle as his servant floundered in embarrassment at her quick tongue. “Apologies, my lord.” “It's fine, Jedessa, now give me my staff back.” Blinking, the girl hadn’t realized she had now pulled back from her lord and was now grasping the staff at the bottom of the staircase. Now thoroughly flustered, she blushed and gave a shallow bow to cover her face as she gave back his staff. Chuckling at her, he walked past her and ruffled her hair causing her to give off a squeak. “My lord!” She pouted as she fixed her hair. “Not as we’re about to meet Gaemon.” “Why? Still got a crush on the boy?” Her face grew red as she responded indignantly. "I'm married!" "I'm just teasing, Jedessa, I know you're loyal.” He said as he eyed her softly with a disarming smile. With an exasperated sigh she went to stand at his side as they walked towards the exit. “What did I ever do to deserve this?” “Teasing me for my lack of alcohol tolerance?” “Fair enough, my lord.” Holding eye contact for a second, the pair soon both broke into laughter at their blatant lack of decorum. Wiping a tear from her eye, they soon both regained their senses as they straightened themselves. “You ready, my lord?” Jedessa asked softly. “Always.” And they stepped through the doorway as the morning sun met their eyes. Amisar glanced around at the surrounding dock workers as they milled around in a flurry of activity. Some of the slaves immediately dropped what they were doing to kneel before the lord and were met with a firm nod of acknowledgement to continue their task. Others merely continued what they were doing, too focused on barking orders and hauling goods by the barrel onto the half a dozen gallyons docked in the harbor. The docked ships were massive, made for hauling goods rather than speed as their bulky frames were listing heavy in the water. The banners upon them all held the royal purple of the freehold, and underneath assigned were the colors of two families. Two of the vessels wore the red and black for Targaryens of dragonstone. Four the seagreen for their vassal house, the Valeryons of driftmark. “Amisar!” A booming voice suddenly called out. Who had dared to call him without his title? He wondered in a sudden burst of indignance. Opening his eyes, Amisar spotted the outline of a figure approaching from his right, he turned. Squinting he noticed the notable height of the figure as it approached as well as its slender frame. As they stopped in front of him he noted their seagreen surcoat and any confusion of their identity was removed as their knees bent to be at his level. “Miss me, old boy?” She asked, her slender fingers cupping his cheek. Amisar had not forgotten her despite her long absence. She was Elenia, the wild bastard of the late lord Valeryon. Known by her nickname “The Sea Drake”, she stood at a towering six feet tall. She had grown near Amisar’s height in his heyday but now all but shrouded him beneath her shadow. It appeared age had changed her as well however. Where long flowing locks of hair as black as sin flowed before, now rested a shoulder length cut of fraid gray hair. “Elenia… is that truly you?” Amisar stammered, not nearly believing his aged mind. He lifted his hand to grasp hers and felt her warmth. He had not yet forgotten. “Yes, father.” She responded, a lone tear flowing from her violet eyes and down her wrinkled face. “I’m here.” The clanking of a staff hitting stone suddenly rang out amongst the commotion of the docks. Amisar wrapped his arms around Elenia, silently weeping into the nook of her neck. “I missed you.” He whispered, his voice quivering with every word. “I missed you so much my little drake.” “Hush now father, you'll make me cry.” She comforted, unaware of the tears already present on her own face as she brushed his back. A silence filled the air between them as they both enjoyed their moment together. Holding one another, they then whispered to one another speaking words previously unspoken. As they did, Jedessa picked up the staff and held it close to her chest and watched on. Who was this woman? She wondered, partly in genuine curiosity and partly in veiled jealousy at the attention this stranger had suddenly received from her lord. Where did she come from? Jedessa thought to herself, she hadn't heard of a Velaryon that was particularly close to Amisar, nevermind someone of such stature. Looking at the two of them, she finally cleared her throat to signal them to part, yet it didn't appear as if they hadn't heard her. Harumphing, she turned her eyes to the world around her. Glancing to her hip, she touched the hilt of the blade confined to the sheath at her side. Dark sister, a sword who's worth more than outweighed her and all the ships in this harbor combined. “Distracted are we?” And like clockwork she had been caught unawares once more. Emelia, despite her height and age, seemingly snuck up on her like a shadow. Flinching back, Jedessa grasped the staff and let out a yelp. “Careful, Elenia. Not everyone is used to your tomfoolery.” Warned Amisar from behind her. She scoffed. “Pfah! If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought half this castle has forgotten me with how poorly your slaves handled docking.” Amisar’s grin let up for a moment at the mention of the slaves, yet returned soon after with a wolfish aesthetic. “Well your absence can be measured in their lifetimes, my dear.” Their eyes met and Jedessa held her breath as she watched the pair. No one outside the inner circle of the Targaryens dared to speak in Amisar in this way, yet this lady continues to openly defy him. The silence was lifted however as both suddenly burst out laughing. Elenia clutched her belly as Jedessa let out a breath and handed the staff back to wheezing Amisar. “Still as sharp as ever then, hm?” Elenia asked through her laughter. “More than you'll ever be, it seems.” Amisar answered in quick succession. “Hah! So it does!” Glancing over to Jedessa, Elenia pointed to her. “So would you introduce me? Your servant girl seems quite confused.” Seemingly only now remembering her presence, Amisar regained some semblance of formality as he cleared his voice. “Apologies Jedessa, it appears I got caught up in the moment.” “No need to apologize on my behalf, my lord.” She responded calmly, yet all the while trying not to overtly stare at the towering Elenia. “Very well then.” He nodded to her and turned to Elenia. “Elenia, meet Jedessa, my servant and closest confidant. Jedessa, meet Elenia, my adopted daughter.” Jedessa blinked. Then blinked again. Daughter? She had not heard of her even in reference from others within the keep. “I see… my pleasure Lady Elenia, i had not heard of you before.” Amisar shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “That would be because of me.” Elenia suddenly looked forlorn, looking to the ground as she kicked a rock off the peer. “50 years ago lady Elenia was brought to this very keep by the late lord Corwyn as a ward.” He gestured to her. “She was only 10 at the time, yet had caught the eye of Corwyn by virtue of-” He paused. “Me being his bastard?” “Your intellect.” Amisar deadpanned. “At the time I thought nothing of it but as I tutored her, we grew close. She excelled in the ways of war and took to the seas like a fish to water.” “You’re terrible.” “I know.” He snickers. “Nonetheless eventually the good lord Corwyn remembered her.” He spat out his name like poison. “Amisar-” Elenia began but was cut off. “No. He took you away from me, I'll never forgive that. At least he had the good sense to escape to Volantis lest I had cut his throat.” “My lord?” Jedessa offered meekly. “Pardon. Corwyn had always been beset by greed and envy, so when the opportunity arose to steal Elenia back from under me, he took it. He recognized her as his bastard and then had Aenar’s father legitimize her.” Amisar sighed. “By then it was too late, a patriarch may well have sway over his own family but that of their vassals?” He shook his head. “I'm sorry if I brought up bad memories.” Jedessa stuttered, suddenly feeling a deep shame for having been jealous of the lady Valeryon. To think that someone would take advantage of Amisar kindness so blatantly was foreign to her, unthinkable even. "It's alright, Jedessa.” Elenia responded. “However much I missed my REAL father,” She glanced at the smiling Amisar. “The position of lord admiral of driftmark didn't come without its perks.” “So I’ve heard,” Amisar responded. “ironborn reavers to asshaii’ sorcerer captains. It's a wonder I didn't know you had arrived in the harbor by the amount of blood often left in your wake.” Elenia formed a crooked smile, all the while tapping the hilt of the sword on her hip. “More than you know of, old boy.” She then grasped the hilt and let the blade loose from its sheath, holding it bear before the two of them. “Seafoam thirsted.” In her hand was a curved arming sword with weeping gray tones roiling on its surface like mist. A cutlass, if Jedessas memory served her correctly and one made of valyrian steel no less. “Seafoam…” Amisar whispered. “When did you-” “Upon recognising me as his child, I took great pleasure in seducing his son to give me whatever I wished.” Elenia said proudly before leaning into whisper to Jedessa. “I told his father that the bruises left on him were from the training yard.” Amisar gaped at his daughter’s openness as Jedessa blushed heavily. Who would openly admit that? She thought to herself. “Elenia! For shame!” Amisar scolded lightly. “What? He had none.” She responded joyfully. He sighed at her nonchalant attitude. “I see you still haven't changed THAT part of you at least.” “It's a step up from servant boys, you have to admit.” “Shut up.” “Oops, sorry.” Holding her hands up placatingly, it wasn't that convincing given her grin. Turning to Jedessa, who was still trying to regain her composure, he slightly bowed his head. “Apologies for her behavior, she was dropped as a child.” “I had a great teacher.” Elenia piped up but was then let out a yelp as Amisar used his staff to launch a pebble at her forehead. “N-no worries, my lord.” Jedessa laughed awkwardly as she scratched the back of her head. “I had heard sailors have quite the foul mouth although I can't say I've had the privilege of a first hand experience.” She glanced at Elenia rubbing her forehead. Sighing, Amisar turned back to Elenia. “So, would you happen to know where Gaemon is?” He pointed to the blade on Jedessa’s hip. “I have a blade of my own that needs to be given back to its rightful owner.” Gaining some semblance of professionalism, Elenia stood up straight and grimaced. “He couldn't make the journey, unfortunately. Some spring sickness has crossed over from westeros. Lord Celtigar had already passed when I had left port and lady Eleana was not faring much better.” Jedessa and Amisar both frowned. It had been a long time since she last saw Gaemon, he had always been kind to her and Daenys. She hoped they were both safe. Amisar’s eyes turned to the ground. “Well, that's a shame. I had been looking forward to seeing him again.” He sighed and then looked up to Elenia. “I hope you'll give them my regards, and wish Eleana a speedy recovery.” It was hard not to forget Eleana, Jedessa thought. The wife of lord Aenar had often beaten her as a child for even the smallest mistake. Although after being caught by Amisar, that had soon changed and she seldom saw her again. “I will, don't worry.” Elenia replied. “I suppose we’d ought to get the old thing shipside.” Nodding, Elenia turned to the largest of the vessels there and gestured to them. “Step up then, welcome aboard the Irondeck.” Morning turned to noon, and from noon to evening. All the while the trio had taken their conversation from the docks to inside the cabin of the flagship of the fleet. Ripping apart the leg of chicken Elenia was as uncouth with her table manners as she was about her nightly activities. “So-” She began between her chewing, “are you gonna stay?” “Hm?” “In the freehold, Amisar. You know what Daenys had foretold. Dragon dreams seldom lie.” The patriarch hummed to himself as he nursed a cup of wine. “I'm aware. Not that I don't believe her. I do but…” He trailed off, sighing heavily. "I'm old Elenia. Too old. Even my dragon can't fly anymore and we were born under the same moon.” “That's never stopped you before.” Elenia replied softly with a frown. “Perhaps not, but I'm tired, Elenia. I'm tired of living under this marred system.” He looked into the cup as he gently swirled it. Thinking of his past, over 500 years… “I’ve failed Elenia. So long I had tried to give reverence to the gods, to convince our fellow dragonlords to abandon this flesh peddling.” He sighed. “And yet, it remains. Since the slavelords of the slaver's bay got their hooks into the families of the freehold, it was too late.” He looked up at her, sadness in his eyes. “If the freehold is to fall, I should fall with it.” Silence filled the cabin. Elenia put down her cutlery and looked into his eyes. “I see… You’ve already made your mind up.” “I have.” “And there’s nothing I can do to change it?” “No, you can not.” She sighed, breaking eye contact and falling back into her seat. “Very well.” “WHAT?!” Jedessa exclaimed, red in the face with fury. “How are you okay with this?” “Jedessa-” Amisar began. “No! You just admitted to wanting to die! How are both of you okay with this?” Tears were running down her face as her eyes frantically looked between them. Elenia, her face turned to the ceiling, merely sighed. “The old man is more than half a millennium old, I think he can decide when enough is enough.” She then lazily pointed in Amisar’s direction. “Besides, he's a stubborn old fool.” “Thank you, little drake.” “That wasn't a compliment.” Hiccuping and throwing herself into his lap, Jedessa wept. She thought back to all the moments they’ve shared together. Every moment of happiness, every moment of comfort and one single thought at the end of each memory. It all coming to an end. She felt a hand upon her head, petting it. Warm fingers combed through her hair and another hand stroked her back. Amisar hushed her softly. “There there, Jedessa.” “No…” She murmured into his clothes. “Don't say it will be okay, it's not okay!” “It will.” He whispered. “No future is set in stone, little one, but one thing is certain. We all have a beginning and an end.” He pulled her face up to face him and they looked into each other's eyes. “I am old, Jedessa, and in pain. But for the time you've been with me.” He looked up to Elenia, who had stray tears falling from her cheeks. “the time BOTH of you have been with me. You’ve given me such joy and happiness that I'll never be able to repay. But I ask you for this one final time to give this old man one last wish.” They both slowly nodded in turn, and held their breath. Amisar turned to look at Elenia. “When the time comes for your departure, take Jedessa and her family with you.” It had been a month since then, and Amisar was now looking upon the waving figures of Elenia and Jedessa slowly disappearing towards the horizon. What joys they had been, he thought. He had spent the majority of their time together after their conversation upon the Irondeck enjoying the luxuries of the freehold and reliving old memories. They walked amongst the streets of Tyria, visited orphanages, listened to music, and went drinking together with old friends. And now they were gone, he thought to himself. He sighed, he knew the moment was inevitable but the inevitability of it made it no less bitter. Glancing to the now empty docks, and the setting sun, he wished he’d never went to Asshai. “I shouldn't have lived this long.” He whispered to himself. “My lord?” A voice uttered behind him. He turned around and saw the figure of a young girl. A new servant, a new name. How long will this one last? How long before I come to love them, and how long before they leave me? No more, he thought. The end is near, I shan't bear the weight of another love lost. “Come, servant. Help me up the stairs.” Servants walked past him through the halls in a flowing river of red and black, all bearing the silver hair of valyrians. For as the freehold mandated, no foreigners may enter dragonkeeps. As if other families have the right to tell me who I can and can't let into my halls, Amisar thought to himself. He had traveled Westeros, Sothoryos and Essos and bar perhaps the most frivolous of Yi Tish nobility, no one matched his “equals” in the freehold in their arrogance. But then again perhaps he should not judge, he was after all the very essence of hubris. In his youth he wanted to be Aerion, the legendary first dragon rider who brought the valyrian peninsula from a bunch of warring tribes to a freehold. One which in the beginning brought freedom for all men. What a wretched thing they had turned it into, he thought. For as he had read more and more of the histories of the freehold, the more into a pit of despair he fell into. Ever since the gheskari had fallen to the freehold and the freehold had a taste of the sweet meat of slavery, it never let go. For the fourteen flames, the volcanoes dotting the peninsula, rich in rare minerals, were hungry. And their hunger was only slacked by the blood of hundreds of thousands of slaves. He looked out from one of the many windows of the lower hall, even from the first floor he could see far away. For the mount on which the dragonkeep rested was one of the highest. From its perch Amisar could see the spires of the capital of Valyria in the distance. In that city he had debated, conspired and betrayed to achieve his goals. Yet for every lord he convinced of his cause, ten more were swayed by the luxuries born of their class. “Fools…” He whispered to himself. It had taken a decade until he realized he would not win but a foothold with his beliefs in the grand council. And thus he abandoned his place in the freehold to become an adventurer, trying to find a way to extend his life so he might one day win by simple attrition. His journey brought him across every known continent till he finally found the red sorcerers of Asshai, where he had branded a ruby into his heart. It did extend his life, but it did not make him truly ageless as was evident. Not that it helped, he thought. Sighing dejectedly he turned to look upon the door to the vault, but a single light caught his eye in the distance. A dragonfire? He thought, as the fire spread from the freehold. But the fire kept spreading, growing larger, until- A giant tremor suddenly swept through the castle, screams rang out from the servants and Amisar gripped the window with its lists. His eyes never left the horizon as he looked on in horror at what was wrought upon the capital. Plumes of fire were spewed out, toppling great spires, he could the shapes of dragons falling out of the sky for even they could not bear the onslaught. Giant stones were flung as each one of the volcanoes visible all burst open like dams, issuing forth a torrent of molten rock. Whole towns were swallowed and as he looked beneath his own walls, he saw that water was flooding in from the direction opposite the interior view. “Oh gods!” Amisar cried. “Daenys doom is here! Oh Arrax have mercy on us all!” He turned to the vault door, rushing to it as the servants were still panicking at the chaos that was unfolding. Pushing his entire weight against the door, he slowly moved it, inch by inch, all the while the screams of the people behind him could be heard. Giving one final push, he finally saw that a crack had opened enough for him to squeeze his body through. Practically throwing himself through it, he let out a large breath to try to make himself smaller. Seconds passed and as soon as his chest had squeezed through, the rest of him toppled over to the other side. Thankfully it was easier to close the door again. Looking through the crack though, one last horrible sight left him crying out in fear as he watched a wyrm with a human face crawl up the neck of one of the servant girls. The girl was screaming and clawing at it as it burned her skin, and as the vault closed itself off to the outside world, the wyrm slithered inside the mouth of its victim. A thunk rang out. Darkness. All that was heard was the panicked breaths of Amisar Thumbling for his staff, the patriarch was brought to his knees, his hands touching stone, stone, stone, metal. Grabbing ahold of it, he turned himself back to the doors and with his hands upon the handles, he stuck the staff between them. “Fuck…” He exclaimed breathlessly. “What the fuck…” What was that?! He thought to himself. Those weren't the servants of Arrax, those were- he searched for the word in his head. Demons! Monsters of the hells of Sothoryos or the deepest caverns of the fourteen flames! He wished to die, but to something like that? No. Not like that. Not peeling the skin from his flesh as he was boiled inside out. Amisar went to stand, and turning around to the giant chamber, he calmed himself, although his breath was still uneven. “I will not die today.” He whispered. He took a deep breath. “Awaken, Naqessa! Awaken, Drivessa! Awaken, Karessa!” Silence. He knew they were there, he felt her, I felt THEM. His sisters. A deep rumbling filled the hall, the sound reverberating through his very bones. In comparison to the terror-inducing rumble of the disaster outside, this one offered comfort, like the hum of a mother to her child. One turned to two, two to three, and soon dust filled the chamber from all sides as something was moving. Suddenly, from the pitch black darkness, a light blue fire spewed into the air and made a noise akin to a roar. Shielding his eyes from the sudden blast of light, Amisar then looked on with a smile as two crystal blue eyes looked down at him. Golden scales, discolored by age, reflected as the blazing light danced upon the ceiling before coming to an end. Leaving him with but the glow of her eyes to stare into. “Good morning, Naqessa.” He said lovingly, the dragon purring deeply in return, her singsong voice finally calming his nerves. The moment was broken as another flame broke out to his left. This one was dyed a deep green and instead of a single burst, this one was spewed forth like a firestorm. She loves to burn, Amisar thought to himself. The fire eventually came to an end, and a good thing she spewed forth so much, for besides her eyes, her entire body was as black as sin. Rumored to be the ancestor of Balerion, the ashen dragon bonded to Daenys, the she-dragon was nothing if not fierce. “You’re as beautiful as ever, Drivessa.” Amisar said, with not an ounce of fear in him. For he knew she would sooner burn herself than hurt him. Staring down at him with her emerald eyes, she cooed lovingly at her brother. Finally, the last of the dragons made themself known as a plume of violet and white fire rose and blended with the green fire of Drivessa. Throwing her head from side to side to get the dust off of her, this she-dragon was almost a carbon copy of himself. She was pure white, with purple eyes and wings. The middle child of the three dragons, she was always the most clever, and always the most haughty. Making sure not an ounce of dust was left on her, she looked down at Amisar. “The beauty rest did you good Karessa.” Amisar greeted her. “You shine like a thousand stars.” The dragon preened at the compliment and cooed lovingly, her amethyst eyes looking down at Amisar. The three of them, like him, had been too old to travel to Dragonstone and thus had nested within the dragonkeep as forgedrakes. Their fires gave the finest blades and armor of the freehold in the last 50 years. “I'm sorry to disturb your rest, yet there is something urgent that has arisen.” He spoke to them. “You feel it dont you? Arrax judgment is here.” They suddenly turned their heads to where the sky would be, their heads tilting in different directions. They let off distressed mewls as their mood shifted to fear. “There there, little ones.” He approached, the three of the lowering their heads to his level. Although each of them could easily swallow a mammoth whole, they were still his little sisters. Amisar stroked each of their noses, feeling their hot breath wash over him made him feel safer, despite the growing darkness that surrounded them. “It’ll be okay…” He looked to the side, the area marked off as his private armory. It was no more than a raised platform, but upon it rested a menagerie of items collected by him throughout his travels. “Stay here, little ones.” Amisar spoke to them, nodding to Naqessa. Understanding what he meant, the eldest she-dragon shifted so both her younger siblings could rest against her, comforting them with her heat and bulk. After all, she was the largest of the three. Stepping onto the platform, he quickly went to grab a dragonglass candle. The black oily stone felt heavy in his hand yet felt strangely… empty. Whispering an incantation, he held it aloft, yet no light came forth. “Strange…” He said to himself. It was as if the magic within was just… gone. Looking back into the darkness behind him he yelled aloud. “Drivessa, dracarys!" The sound of his voice echoed across the walls and soon thereafter, a torrent of flame spewed out across the ceiling and colored the chamber in a green hue. Looking back at the armory, he sighed. Two rows of items stood on each side, and at the end a stone throne. “Right. Let's hope this works.” … Sitting on the throne, Amisar sat with a full set of scaled black armor, a size too big for him, for it was made during his youth. Upon his head rested a crown of weirwood from beyond the ice wall of westeros. In his left hand, a bottle of red liquid, blood from a king of the stormlands. In his right hand, a deep blue potion made by a shadowmancer of asshai. ‘Shade of the evening,’ they called it, as Amisar recalled. Green magic, blood magic, shadow magic. Three of a whole, three elements to change fate and bind the world to your will. Help me Arrax, grant me mercy upon this day of doom. The ceiling had begun collapsing in some places, his dragons now sat clustered around him, seeking his comfort. Water had begun rushing in through the door and the end was soon approaching. “Drivessa, a light if you please.” He spoke softly. She obliged him, fire slowly rising out of her mouth akin to a furnace. Breathing deeply, he concentrated. His mouth moved, speaking words of power, beseeching Arrax to grant him mercy, for Gaelithox to grant him the binding of fire, and finally for Vermax to grant him travel. “Please.” He pleaded as he saw the fire snake around his hands, as if alive. “Set us free.” The fire touched the bottles, breaking them. Out of them, came light. Amisar screamed, and all went black. Author's Note Thank you for reading. Currently contemplating writing the rest of the story in first person instead of third. It'll probably go faster with updates if i switch to first person. Kindly let me know your thoughts. From flight to fightIt seems as though he had been falling for years. ‘Fly’ a voice had called, but he did not know how to. So he fell. He remembered when had ridden Naqessa as a child and his mother had scolded him for not using his saddle. Her face was fuzzy, he could not remember it in detail. What he could remember was the day when she had been flung from one of the spires of Valyria. Yet another blood feud, yet another death. He had seen how her body moved like a falling tissue in that white dress she wore. She fell and fell and came to a sudden stop. His servant had shielded him from the worst of it, but he could still remember the noise. The sound cracking of bones mixed with wet flesh falling to pieces. It haunted him for many years how she had laid there. His mother was reduced to a pile of flesh and bone beneath a blanket of silk. He never flew without his saddle again. The ground was closer now, yet still so far that he could barely see it through the mist that whirled around him. He knew though that even in his dreams, he could not fall forever. ‘And if you do?’ the voice asked again. Then it is so, Amisar thought. He was not a little boy that needed comfort. He was a dragon, he assured himself, even if I am bereft of wings, fire is in my blood. The ground was closer now, still a thousand miles away, but closer. He saw mountains, hills and fields. Stars around him and a moon four times the size of the one back home accompanied him in the sky. He kept falling, it was just him, the ground, the stars, and the voice. He was about to panic when he heard it again. 'Don't cry, fly.’ “I don't know how to.” ‘Have you ever tried?’ The voice was warm, akin to an older brother. He looked around himself, and a light shone from above him. Flying up next to him was the shape of a man, taller than himself and made entirely out of starlight. Upon the back of the man was a pair of dragonwings, each seeming massive in comparison to him. They did not move, he kept falling. “Who are you?” Amisar asked. “You know me.” “Can you help me?” “I already am.” “... A-are you a god?” “I am.” “Are you really a god?” He asked in wonder. “Are you really falling?” The figure smiled. “This is just a dream.” “Is it?” Images flashed before him. Carnage. Volcanoes exploding. Cities being swallowed by the seas. A three headed dragon flew away, but it was left bleeding from the doom. “Hit the ground, and you will die.” He wept. The god reached to him, letting his hand whisk away Amisars tears. “Crying is not the answer, child.” He looked down, he could see snow now. Forests, seas, cities. “I told you, flying is the answer, not crying.” “You have wings, use them!” “I do. But there are many sorts of wings.” Amisar stared at him, then turned to himself. He saw his body, frail and weak. His arms, his legs, they were thinner now, weaker. He remembered his youth, he was not always this weak. He was not meant to be this weak, he knew. A figure flew past them, wrapped in silk, covered in blood. He screamed. “Not that,” The figure waved, the vision disappearing. “you do not need that.” The figure then flicked his forehead, forcing Amisars eyes to turn to him. “You said you’d help me!” “I am. I'm teaching you to fly.” The mists blew harder now, he forced himself from looking at the ground as it grew ever nearer. He felt it, he feared it. “Your teachings are not working, make me fly!” “You’re flying right now.” "I'm falling!" Amisar cried in exasperation. “Every flight begins with a fall, Amisar.” The figure smiled, and he thought it was the end. But then the massive wings wrapped around him, into him, covering him in stars. He closed his eyes. ‘You’re not a dragon, Amisar. You’re so much more.’ He opened his eyes, the figure, the mist, all was gone. Just him and the ground. He looked south and saw seas and rolling deserts. He saw women and children starving in the streets, with men eating their corpses. He saw great beasts gathering into flying warships, and a kraken gathering a storm around him. He looked west and saw a swarm of locusts covering the ground, swallowing towns in their wake. Women, men and children were torn asunder. And upon a hill, sat a queen dressed in blood. He saw vast emptiness as well, with lands undiscovered by men. He looked north and saw frost and ice, roads of steel and wood jutted out of the drifts. All coalesced to a single point, a great city within the cold made out of crystal and rock. It shone like a beacon, but within the deep forests he saw that darkness ruled. A great stag king ruled within, wielding absolute authority. Turning his eyes east, he saw a great empire rising anew, roads were being built and fields sown. Within a great tree, an eagle with a crown upon his head sat aloft with an idol in his talons. Further beyond however sat an island, connected to the land via a single land bridge, falling and rising from the sea. Upon it, volcanoes spewed forth and giant magma pools formed beneath. No smoke flowed from them however, the molten rock seeming somehow pure. About the flames, dragons flew in the hundreds, eventually coalescing around a single figure, a blue drake wielding a scepter and a crown. His breathing had fallen silent in wonder, he had not seen a vision so vivid since the visit to Asshai. Catching himself, he gasped for air and looked to his hands, he was covered in stars. “Where am I..." He looked to the ground, he was floating just above a white tipped mountain, standing alone within a massive jungle. Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. Turning around, the figure of a giant dragon wreathed in shadow and smoke rose over him. It turned to him, fangs flashing. Before he could lift a finger, it opened its mouth and death reached out for him with fire. He screamed, and lifted his arms to cover his face. All went black. A trickle echoed through the darkness. Drop after drop hit the ground in a steady rhythm that made a ripple in the puddle beneath. Here, life was constrained to bioluminescent mosses, insects, bats and sightless reptiles. That is until now. A gasp echoed through the cave, the sound bouncing off the walls and was quickly followed by a hacking noise. Amisar was in total darkness, on his knees and clutching his chest as he attempted to cough up a supper that did not exist. The hacking soon quieted down, turning into a wheeze mixed with heavy breathing. Amisar’s mind was hazy as he could nearly not keep conscience in the stale air of the grotto. “Oh gods…” He exclaimed in a whisper. His voice sounded different somehow, he noted. It felt almost newer, although still beset by whatever the aftereffects of the spell was. The air did not make it any better, as every breath he took filled his lungs with the pungent stench of bat feces. Feeling his armor graze across rock, and the echoes around him, Amisar grew concerned. “Did the spell not work?” His voice was clearer now, he felt as if he had just been freed of a sore throat. Looking around himself he called out. “Naqessa?” Silence, their bond was severed. “Drivessa?” Silence, he could not hear her roaring flames. “... Karessa?” Silence, her purr was nowhere to be found. All that was heard was the slow dripping of water from the ceiling and the noise of Amisars breathing. He was alone. Falling onto his back, he looked up to the darkness and closed his eyes. “Gods help me…” He whispered. The smell of bat feces and the constant dripping of water made the rest short and weary. Although at the very least I'm able to stand on my own two feet, the lord Targaryen thought. Pushing himself off his knees, Amisar rose slowly and rose further still. Even in the blinding darkness he felt taller, and the armor no longer constrained him as it once did. He traced his chestplate with his gauntlet covered fingers. “How strange…” He whispered to himself before focusing on his surroundings. Since he could not rely on his sense of sight or smell, he thought, he must rely on touch and hearing. Thus he began taking slow and cautious steps forward, his arms stretching out before him. The ground was uneven, so he had often needed to hesitantly feel out the space before him. He had walked around twenty paces before finally finding a wall. “Right, let's see here.” Using his feet, he felt out which direction felt lower and which felt higher. “Left.” Turning his head to his left side, he slowly began walking upwards through the snaking cave system. Although this wasn't the first time he had spent in darkness, it was the first time he had felt truly alone. Throughout his whole life he had been bonded to Draqessa, and that bond extended to her sisters when Amisar’s siblings had died in the crib. Now, a small part of himself felt removed, and nothing took its place, just emptiness. “Gods have mercy, don't leave me here alone, sisters.” He whispered. “I can't do this on my own.” Trudging slowly up and taking several breaks along the way, the better part of three hours had passed. “For crying out loud!” Amisar panted. “How far beneath the earth am i?!” The heat of the lower levels had by now dissipated and the smell of feces had wafted out, however that was now replaced by a cool chill. Being born of fire and blood freed him of discomfort of the cold, yet the wind blowing in his face made him wince at times. He remembered a similar time, where without the help of his dragons, he tried scaling the great ice wall of westeros. This wasn't as cold nor as dangerous, but the constant strain and windchill made him reminisce. Thinking about it however, just a couple months back he wouldn't dream of putting this much strain on himself. Yet now he had marched up what was sure to be hundreds of meters, only stopping for a few times. Suddenly, he stopped. “Is that? …” He paused, halting his panting. For a while all he heard was the dripping of water, but further away still he then heard it. The distinct noise of rain. “I swear, if that's another flock of bats taking the world’s foulest shit…” He muttered to himself, partly in exasperation, partly in relief. Trudging slowly through the darkness, the patriarch repeated prayers to the gods. “Oh Arrax, father above, grant me your strength, let me not fear my foe. Oh Aegerax, mother above, let my blood be strong and noble as you have willed.” He took ragged breaths between nearly every word, he could hear the rain clearly now. “Oh Tyraxes, master of peace and war, grant me your mercy, help me in failure, and give me the will to forgive in victory. Oh Gaelithox, my fire within, grant the guiding light of your fire, your stars and moon.” He saw light finally and smiled, his legs regaining some strength and he walked faster with every step. In his joy, he gave two final prayers, both born of the drive from a nearly dead man. Finally free to see, finally free from darkness. “Oh Belarion, lord of death, free me from these halls, and embrace me another day. Oh Meleys, lady love, guide me to my sisters, and I'll never let them go again.” And with a final running step, Amisar crossed the threshold. “Gods be praised.” He panted, his breath finally feeling fresh air. He was hunched over now, feeling like he’d keel over at any time. Time to find a wall to fall asleep on, he thought. As he went to stand straight however, he looked to his hands. “What in the…” He couldn't finish his sentence, his breath caught itself. His hands, arms, legs, all were as if made anew. They looked healthy, and strong, he thought. Flexing his muscles under the tautness of his armor, it felt like he was young again. It looked like he was young again. Looking beyond his hands, he saw a puddle in front of him. Cautiously he approached it, his movements careful despite the burning sensation from his legs. Slowly he got to his knees and looked into the water bound mirror. Amisar bent forward, his visage reflecting off the surface. Just as he did however, he quickly darted back with a gasp. He touched his face tentatively, his gauntlet covered hands twitching slightly. He dragged his hand from chin, to brow, to his hair. My hair, Amisar suddenly thought, and lightly grasped it. Where a short, wiry mess hung before now lay a silken shroud of white hair, running all the way to the middle of his back. He sat there for a moment, just playing with it mindlessly. He smiled, he smiled the broadest smile he had ever had. “Oh gods, thank you!” He shouted laughing gleefully, “Thank you for granting this pitiful lord life anew!” He threw his head up, looking to the ceiling of the cave. Only then realizing- “My eyes! I can see!” Tears started to form as his laugh was mixed with a quiet sobbing. He did not know whether to laugh at the absurdity of it all, or to break down sobbing in joy. “I cant- i cant be deserving of this- Oh gods so many died-” Anguish. “I'm not worthy of this- My servants they- I've killed and maimed and-” Guilt. “I… Thank you so much.” Acceptance. Amisar broke down crying as thunder rang out outside, blanketing him in light and outlining him against the ground. He had grown taller, standing at little above six feet. He was of a tall yet lithe build, toned with muscle, with long elegant fingers. Amisar's face was beautiful, he had smooth features that gave him an aristocratic charm, mixing parts both masculine and feminine to seem almost angelic. His eyes, previously milky, had returned to an amethyst color with a sheen in them. Finally his hair was long and flowing with a silken smooth texture to them. Looking at him, one would not fault the slaves of the freehold for thinking him a god in his youth. Eventually, after having thanked all fourteen gods of the freehold individually, the sobbing quieted down to a muted silence. “Your will shall be done, Arrax, I will not disappoint you.” Taking a deep breath, the dragonlord smiled. He felt more alive than ever, freer than ever, for even in servitude to his gods, without the responsibility of leading his house, he needn't be tied down any longer. Sitting there, he felt as if the air itself, humid as it was, felt not only fresher but somehow different. It reminded him of his journey to the wall, where magic flowed off its enchantments, but this time it was all around him, inside him even. Standing up straight, he looked outside. It was raining hard, and the thunder was all around him. From what he could see, as the thunder lit up the sky, he was upon a great mountain. And beneath him was forest, although it was hard to make out from the small glimpses. “Are you finally done?” A deep rumbling voice, speaking in westerosi common, spoke out, shaking Amisars very bones from the sheer volume. Whirling around, with fists raised, he soon found himself faced with not a man, but a giant… drake. He was not sure what to call it. It bore scales, wings, claws and legs, but to call it a dragon would be an insult to his sisters, he thought. Its snout was far too long, its wings were too small to carry its big gut, and it bore four legs! It rested upon a massive hoard of gold. It was akin to the Westerosi legends of dragons stealing treasures of both coin and flesh. His eyes peered over the fat wyrm, looking for the one who spoke out, yet he saw none. Curiously though, he did find his crown and staff in its hoard. Looking into the eyes of the drake, he spoke out. “Qilōni issi ao? Māzigon hen!” (Who’s there?! Come out!) “Speak sense ape!” The drake replied harshly. “You stand before your doom.” Amisar was amazed. That a beast like this could think, much less speak, was incomprehensible to him. Have I gone mad? He thought, first escaping the destruction of the greatest civilisation ever to be, talking with a god, getting stuck in a cave for hours, regaining his youth- and now a talking wyrm? Looking at the drake, the words out of his mouth were instinct, not choice. “Iksin nyke iēdrosa ēdrure? … Skoros issi ao?” Amisar asked, still astonished from what he saw before him. (Am i still dreaming? …what are you?) The wyrm’s eyes gleamed with both anger and intelligence. “I know you understand me, ape, I see it in your eyes. I have not smelled your kind before,” His mouth turned to a cruel smile. “I wonder what they taste like.” Amisar’s curious gaze turned cold at the threat. “I speak your tongue, drake. Although I can't for the life of me understand why you choose to speak westerosi.” “I speak common, fool.” The drake answered, confused at the patriarch's words. “‘Common fool?’ an odd name for a language.” The dragon snorted in anger at the small creature's quick wittedness. “Tell me, are you some sort of beast from the flesh pits of Gogossos?” “Beast?” The drake rose, gold falling off its form as it extended its wings with its face a twisted sneer. “You stand before Gostir, king of the everfree! Greatest of all dragons!” Looking down at him, this ‘dragon’ is akin to a tropical bird trying to show off to mate, Amisar thought to himself. “And you are a feckless ape! I am curious though, most feel the inclination to bow or run before me, as they should before their death.” Gostir drew its head down to see Amisar better. “Tell me, wretch, why don't you fear me?” His voice seemed akin to a purr, despite the threat. “My name is Amisar Targaryen, dragonlord of the freehold of Valyria, and I bow only before the gods. So tell me, king of thieves, where did you get those?” Amisar said harshly, glaring at Gostir, then pointing towards the staff and crown sitting on the edge of the hoard. Glancing at where he was pointing, Gostir snorted. “Diamond dogs tribute, so what? Are they yours?” A deep rumbling laugh shook the chamber. “Well, no longer.” The drake then advanced, slowly, like a shadowcat stalking its prey, causing Amisar back up to the edge of the cave, his back toward the storm outside. “Dragonlord, hm? I could burn you with but an ember of my flame.” He grinned a cruel smile, rows of sharp teeth gleaming in the light of the thunder. “I always did prefer my meat thoroughly cooked.” Feeling the danger he was in, Amisar’s eyes glided to the cave he exited out of. Too far, he realized. Switching his gaze to his side, he looked outside but realized the cliff face was too steep to climb down. There’s no escape, he thought to himself, steeling his nerves. Slowly he took off the gauntlet on his off hand and tossed it to the side. “Very well, if this is what you choose, Wyrm, I’ll give you what you want.” Amisar breathed deeply, lifting his hand to his mouth. “With fire and blood.” And bit down. In a rush of smoke, bursting out of the wound came a rod of blood. Moving quicker than Gostir could react, the projectile hit him square in the eye, blinding him. The drake reared up and grasped its face, screaming in pain as it sought to get the sizzling liquid out of its eye. Amisar bit deeper, throwing more of his blood magic toward the dragon as he turned toward the cave he exited from. Before he even took his first step however, a panicked swipe of Gostir’s tail brought the entire entrance crashing down in a heap of rubble and dust. Clicking his tongue, the lord turned back to the cliffedge. Thousands of feet, it was like he was back at the bone mountains, trying to escape the wild men of the bones. Alas there were no great warrior women to save him here, he thought. “Oh for fucks sake!” He sneered, trying to draw a plan in his mind. “Pity.” Gostir rasped, his wild swiping coming to an end. Turning around swiftly, Amisar bit his hand again, bringing forth another torrent against the dragon. This time though, the wyrm was quicker, letting his wing swipe away the rods as they came flying. Chuckling at his efforts, the drake withdrew his wing as the torrent of blood came to a stop. Amisar panted, holding his hand as his skin became visibly paler and his body colder. “So,” Gostir purred, “what will you do now? Blood ape?” He practically spat the last part out as if it was poison. Gostir was scarred, a noticeable amount of its face had scales that had been damaged, flaking away. Weaker than my sisters, Amisar thought, finding his thoughts… drawn to them suddenly. Eying the cliffedge, the dragonlord pondered the risk. “Careful, Ape, you might fall.” Gostir hissed cruelly. “You said you didn’t bow for anyone but the gods, well- here I am!” The dragon advanced. Amisar’s mind was a whirl, images blinking in and out of his thoughts. “You are filth!” His mind went to Drivessa, black scales, green eyes and flame. He remembered when she was young. Back then she was a tiny little thing, thought to not last her first winter. She did this cute little thing where she’d drape herself over my neck, not even my mother could wrench her off her perch, Amisar thought to himself. Always first to defend him, she had defended him during blood feuds that would surely had brought an end to him otherwise. Sometimes for the simple fact that she’d kidnap him right before an ambush to carry him off to the sisters nest to cuddle together. This was especially the case during her pregnancy, where only he was allowed near her brood to tend to them whilst she ate. “And I? I am fire!” The images blended into one another, changing form and shape. Black changed to white, emeralds to amethysts. Karessa, ever the clever one. More slender than her siblings, she was often viewed as a freak in her youth, nicknamed ‘the pale wyrm’. As she grew however the voices were silenced as she came to be one of the most beautiful dragons the freehold had to offer. He was so proud of her, remembering how she had struggled in her youth, not having the brawn of her sisters, she had to use her wits to compensate. He would read out loud to her during his tutoring, the words seeming to have meaning to her, as her eyes stared into his, weighing his words. If anyone were to call his sisters simple ‘beasts’ around Amisar, they’d be cut down. “I am death!” Black to white, green to purple, but none more glorious than gold. Naqessa, my sister, he thought. The eldest of the three, the one two bring the two others to his crib as a babe, she was the light of his life. When Amisar’s brother and sister died, the two other dragons had been left alone in the world, that was until she brought them to him. His warmth calmed then, the gentle purring of Naqessa forged within each of them a new bond. He may have lost a brother and a sister, but he had gained so much more. And when he was alone, thought to be at his sanity’s edge after his mother’s death. It was Naqessa who brought him back, made him feel…. Whole. The connection was back, stronger, he could feel her, each of them. The rain had stopped hitting him, Gostir had stopped too, his face awash with a mixture of anger and fear. And when Amisar looked up, there was gold. Fire and bloodGold, rivers of it, flowed above him, each scale glittering in the light of thunder. Naqessa’s neck wove its way in front of Amisar, coming to a stop in front of Gostir. A deafening roar then rang out, Naqessa’s voice seeming to force Gostir back. Falling to his knees, Amisar smiled as he grasped his cold, blood stained hand. “Hello, sister.” The roar eventually came to an end as Gostir backed away with his back against his hoard. Two additional roars then rang outside as Amisar felt his two other sisters approaching. Gostir was at this point creating holes in the ground from his claws gripping it too hard. A duo of huge tremors then rang out. At Amisars left side, a torrent of green flame tore through the left side of the cave, collapsing it partially. Through the flames, the form of Drivessa appeared like a shadow, driving a spike of fear through Gostir as the she-dragon advanced out of the emerald shroud. Her scales, like Naqessa’s, were forged anew, having regained the iridescent shine of her youth. Eventually, she came to a stop, her head just behind Naqessa, eying the ‘king’ with hunger. Immediately after to Amisars right, the cave was lit up by a white flame, licks of amethyst purple on the edges. The glow from it unintendedly made the two other she-dragons shine that much brighter when Karessa's slender neck crossed the threshold. She was akin to a serpent sometimes, not that I'd say that openly, Amisar thought. She walked slowly, methodically, turning her head at different angles as she eyed her surroundings before coming to a stop at her sisters’ side. Watching Gostir, studying him. Using Naqessa’s wing as a brace, Amisar slowly rose to his feet and grasped the gauntlet at his side. He felt an overwhelming amount of relief from the appearance of his sisters, his fear seeming to wash away. Straightening his back, he rose to his full height. “So,” He began. “What was that you were saying? About being a god?” Gostir's gaze stayed on his sisters. “What are they?” “At least have the courtesy of asking ‘who’, wyrm.” Amisar spat. “You stand before Naqessa of the dawn, Drivessa the just and Karessa the magnificent. Dragons, all, and my sisters for that matter.” The wyrm snorted in disgust. “Dragons? They are beasts! The light of the keepers is absent from all of you!” Amisar’s eyes seemed to grow darker. “Careful, wyrm. I’m giving you one final chance. See reason and surrender, leave this place and swear never to come near my sisters again.” Gostir’s jaw clenched. “You would not survive, Gostir. The gods have etched our names into our bones, but it’s up to us to decide what they mean to both ourselves and others.” “And what gods would that be, ape?!” “The fourteen flames, the fathers and mothers of Valyria.” The dragonlord extended his hand, as if grasping something. “In the beginning, there was a void and within that void, a single egg. That egg, when cracked by lightning, was thrown open and gave birth to our world.” Amisar lifted and motioned to his left and right respectively. “The one half had little land yet a bottomless ocean, the other, endless land and little in terms of seas.” He then held his hands together as Gostir looked on. “But most importantly, out of this egg rose fourteen great volcanoes. The fourteen flames they were called and from them rose the gods, one for each flame.” “The first and mightiest, Arrax, the father of-” “Enough!” Gostir interrupted, his eyes full of rage. “I will not sit idly by and watch you preach such blasphemy! I am Gostir, the ancient scourge of the Everfree and Zawanda! You and your beasts are an affront to the keepers and I’d sooner die than suffer another second in your presence!” Amisar’s hands dropped, sighing as he looked at the wrathful wyrm. “You are hopelessly outmatched. Leave and live, or burn. I only want what is rightfully mine.” Gostir's tail suddenly swung out and threw part of his horde in all directions in the cave. Gold and jewels of all sorts clanked and echoed across the grotto. Falling within cracks and crevices it looked akin to snowfall as wealth untold glittered between the opposing dragons. “I am not so meek to submit to an ape. I am their hammer!” Gostir’s claws clenched and drove into the ground. “I am the tip of their spear!” His eyes dilated as he focused on the coins strewn about him. “I am death!” Suddenly the emerald wyrm threw his head up and let out a roar so loud that Amisar and his sisters all flinched. Gostir’s frills grew longer and his teeth sharper. His wings doubled in size and soon the rest of his followed as bones creaked and meat shifted. Amisar could not believe his eyes at what he was seeing but nonetheless maintained focus. He shifted his gaze to his sisters and saw them all baring their teeth with their eyes focused squarely on the wyrm’s neck. “I wonder,” he whispered to himself with a wolfish grin, “are you three as hungry as I am?” Positive. Hunger. Thirst. His mind was suddenly filled with their emotions. Their needs. Gostir’s roar slowly was drawn to an end and fell into heavy breathing. The fat wyrm was thus replaced by a behemoth rivaling Naqessa. His claws and teeth were made sharper, his wings more muscled. Even his scales were turned into a new sheen akin to his sisters. Amisar leered at the feral creature before him. Gone were the calculating eyes and arrogant attitude. What stood before him was a beast, unthinking for anything more than blood. Amisar counted down the seconds in his head and weighed the chances of defeat. The wyrm was large and fierce that much he could tell at least. It was clearly something unnatural, a creation of blood by these so called ‘keepers.’ Suddenly however the thoughts in his head crashed like waves upon a cliff when a single word echoed through his mind. Death. Amisar’s eyes turned to Drivessa, her emerald eye was staring back at him. Begging, thirsting, but more than anything craving his safety like the sweetest fruit. He knew then that despite the wyrm’s wrath that experience was on his side and if that wasn't enough then the love between the four of them would protect them. After all… this wasn't the first time his sisters had fought another of their kind. Breathing in and focusing back on Gostir he saw the wyrm rise to take off. Amisar thus steeled himself and uttered a single word as he put his gauntlet back on. “Dracarys.” The hulking frame of the monstrous wyrm wildly galloped forward with his wings flapping and striking the sides of the cave. Coming within a yard of the trio, Gostir’s eyes reflected a sudden onslaught of light. White, green, blue and violet. A beautiful spiral of swerving colors that for a second blinded the wyrm. That is before throwing him back to the other side of the cave in a force unfelt by the wyrm since his youth. The wall crashed in around him as his wildly flailing limbs tried to regain balance. He had fallen on his back and his eyes were burned again whilst the two younger she-dragons advanced. From where Amisar stood, the fact that the dragonlord had feared this beast made the man feel a deep regret, shame even. Shame that he would doubt his sisters. Shame that he believe that both he and his sisters, all children of Arrax would fall to this pitiful thing. No longer would he doubt. “Tear out his wings, sisters! Karessa, make him bleed, Drivessa, make him fear!” The sisters roared with glee as their teeth gnashed against the flailing limbs of Gostir. The pale dragon then lunged past his neck, tearing off a chunk of flesh but quickly pulled back as a stray foreleg nearly caught her eye. Drivessa then drew in her breath and released a torrent of fire, making the wyrm scream in panic and pain. Soon the green tide made his scaled hide pop open as his skin seemed to almost boil. The escaping blood from the wounds then made a horrific sizzling noise as the wyrm’s screams grew louder. The torrent came to a quick close however as the wyrm finally rose off his back and whipped his tail into the ebony she-dragon jaw. Taking the strike and drawing back, Gostir opened his eyes to then see the winding neck of Karessa winding around his side as he suddenly felt a great pressure on his tail. Roaring and striking out he suddenly felt something snap and a great spike of pain followed. Whimpering, the wyrm drew in his fire as Karessa devoured the ripped off half of Gostir’s tail. Unleashing a flood of fire and smoke, he blinded the two drakes. Hearing them draw in their breath used his forelegs to fling portions of his treasure into the she-dragons mouths and thus forced them to gag. Winding past the duo, great swaths of blood followed Gostir’s path as he passed the threshold of light surrounding the trio. Amisar looked at the stumbling drake as both of his back legs were grabbed by the jaws of two quickly recovered sisters. His scales around his belly and chest were frayed by fire as his previously green hide had turned red and pink with boils covering the center of the wounds. Dotting his neck were Karessa’s bites that bled down his throat and made the wyrm cough blood as it roared. Dear gods, he almost pitied the creature. Almost. Suddenly however their grip on the wyrm faltered as the two sisters were beset by a foul stench. Flinching back, the two she–dragons narrowly avoided the defecations of a panicking wyrm. Amisar looked on in disgust as the feral Gostir left behind a trail of himself in both gore and feces. The wyrm flailed its wings as it quickly ran towards the space left of Naqessa and Amisar. It had only one way of escaping left, Amisar thought, its wings remain unscathed. Hearing his thoughts, Naqessa responded accordingly. Barreling past the two of them and but a half a dozen meters away from the precipice, Gostir extended his wings to their fullest. Just as his membrane caught the wind however, thunder lit up the chamber as the jaws of Naqessa ripped off the largest piece she could fit. It wasn’t much but it was enough to make the wyrm falter and his injured back legs soon were caught on the edge of the cave. Gostir, rather than taking flight hurtled through the threshold and his frame, blanketed by thunder, tumbled down beyond sight. His screams echoed high throughout the mountain, they were bestial, afraid. Amisar held his breath as the screams continued until he felt a deep tremor in the earth. What followed were massive rockslides that flew past the cave entrance and down the mountain as several of the walls damaged in the battle cracked. Naqessa took quick action, calling to her sisters as they all gathered to cover their brother. And thus, the mountain wept. … Amisar was surrounded by darkness. The rumbling and muffled noise of rocks falling on stone and scales had stopped and left him hacking up the dust leftover from the collapse. As the dust settled around him, all that was left was the sound of his own breathing and the steady rise and fall of his sister's stomachs above him. “Sisters, are you alright?” The dragonlord asked in his native tongue, tinged in concern. Yes. Never better. Rocks heavy. The dragonlord’s gaze turned upward to the sound of shifting bodies and rocks. Naqessa tightened the makeshift chamber around him as further words and emotions jumbled his mind. Worry. Okay? Hurt? Amisar smiled at her concern. She knew the answer through our connection but the golden she-dragon was nothing if not protective and by the gods a worrywort, he thought. “I'm alright, dear. You did well, all of you did.” Amisar smiled as he felt the happiness course through him from their connection. Turning his gaze to his right as he saw movement in his periphery, he noticed the sudden appearance of a pair of eyes. Having such a long neck, Karessa had managed to wind her way inward, in between the sisters through a nock in Naqessa’s wings. Her snout pushed gently against him as he chuckled at the middle child’s need for affirmation. Amisar could picture the almost human-like smugness that had no doubt tinged Karessa’s jaws. She gently chuffed and a wave or air blew against Amisar. Impressed? “Alright alright! I get it!” Amisar chuckled as he pushed back against the she-dragon, although to her it was no doubt just a gentle nudge. Straightening his back, he dramatically cleared his throat and swung his arms out. “Your fire was akin to pale moonlight on Meraxes Lights. You danced with elegance! You danced with gracefulness I say! Akin to a Rhoynish waterbender!” He swung his arms in different directions as he spoke. As he finished, he slowly made his way up to the now purring she-dragon and traced her scales with his hand. Looking into her right eye, Amisar kissed her cheek and whispered to her. “You were beautiful, my little moonlight.” Love. The dragonlord hummed, feeling the word and the feelings of both Karessa and her sisters wash over him. It felt like nothing else in the world existed at that moment. He felt fulfilled. “I love you too, my sisters.” The four of them settled into a comfortable silence as Amisar rested his weight against Karessa. The cold caress of blood loss was all lost, in its place came the warmth of love made manifest. Amisar looked down upon his hand, the pain was gone. It meant one of two things he knew, he's either about to die or the magic of this place is so powerful that a wound would heal within minutes. The dragonlord hummed, his senses shared amongst his sisters as they too grew curious of where they were. Amisar thus turned his attention upward. “Drivessa, Karessa, display your indomitable strength. Free us from this tomb. We did not flee through a molten oblivion to die in this damp place. Rise, no mountain can hold your wings!” Karessa's head retreated and Naqessa's chamber grew tighter as Drivessa shifted her immense weight. Soon thereafter rockd shifted and Karessa joined her younger sister in dislodging the piles of rock above them. A couple of particularly large ones, no doubt four times the size of Amisar shook the earth as they rolled off the trio. If it weren't for Naqessa, I'd be dead right now, Amisar thought as he closed his eyes. He shivered a little at the thought of being crushed, the crunch of rock outside no doubt playing into his fear. It had dawned on him how close he had come to death, first in the caves, then to the wyrm and now to this. Calm. The feeling filled his mind, opening his eyes he saw that light had returned around him. The Inky blackness had been replaced by a smoky gray, clearer but dim. Yet even through the shroud he could see her, Naqessa. Two crystal blue eyes stared at him, into him. She slowly lowered Her head, gently caressing the dragonlord. Unlike Karessa’s previously playful nudging, this one was done with such precision that one could almost forget Naqessa could swallow a mammoth whole. We're here for you. The world stood still as the she-dragon manifested the words into the mind of the dragonlord. Amisar had never heard full sentences from her before. It had stunned him, he hadn't even registered that he instinctively had nuzzled back into her like used to as a child. Forevermore. “I was so scared-” Amisar whispered, the words falling out of his mouth. “When this place took away the connection I thought I had lost you, all of you.” His grip around her suddenly tightened as his warbled words hitched. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Hush, brother. Her words etched into his mind as he wept. To an outsider it would seem strange for a human to be grasping at a fully grown dragon whilst crying and speaking to himself, but for Amisar he heard every word and felt every thought. Eventually the two of them were joined by Karessa, and soon thereafter Drivessa. Both or the younger siblings leaning in to comfort their big brother. We'll never leave you again. The words were threefold as all three of the she-dragons spoke as one. And thus Amisar knew he would never lose them again. He promised himself there that he would never let that happen, by Arrax's will. Sniffing and drying his tears, he rose to stand on his own as he lifted himself off of Naqessa. Amisar then looked around himself and noticed that all eyes were on him as his sisters had all surrounded him and pushed themselves gently up against him. “Sorry-” He began, his voice slightly hoarse as he sniffed. “Your big brother is a bit of a softy It seems.” He chuckled to himself as the three sisters almost seemed to mentally roll their eyes at him. Nonetheless the she-dragons chuffed softly as they leaned into him before rising to stand. As they rose, Amisar looked around himself, the cave was mostly intact, apart from a layer of rock that had covered almost everything. Strangely enough the hoard had remained mostly unharmed Amisar thought to himself. likely due to the increased integrity of the area the wyrm had for his magpie-like addiction. “The wyrm can understand physics but not the sense to flee before three Valyrian she dragons.” Amisar said aloud as he frowned at the notion. “The fool.” Walking gently over the fallen rocks, most of which were thankfully just pebbles, Amisar made his way toward the hoard. A Lot of it had been flung out and now lies buried beneath the rock and dust caused by the wyrm’s fall. To think that beneath his feet lie a horde that could buy him a dragonkeep three times over, he thought. “Although I suppose it doesn't hold a finger the riches now buried beneath the ash and sea of Valyria.” Amisar muttered to himself before shuddering. “Or the bodies…” Walking along the edge of the hoard, the dragonlord finally found what he was looking for. He bent down and in his left hand was a crown of weirwood, in his right a valyrian steel staff. Although at this point it might have switched roles from walking stick to polestaff, Amisar thought to himself. Placing the crown on his head, the dragonlord took some time to get it just in the right place before putting both hands on his staff. Having felt out its center of gravity, he gave it a few practice swings as he bent his knees and moved with fluid motions. Imagining a human before him he struck at their legs, joints, and finally a thrusting strike toward the head. Laughing, Amisar threw the staff up in the air before catching it with one hand. His three sisters watched on with amusement as the valyrian turned to them and walked over to them. “Whether we're in the far reaches of Sothoryos, Ulthos or across the sunset sea, this place is full of magic!” Amisar spoke excitedly before looking up at them. “You feel it too? Don't you?” Refreshing. Rejuvenated. Excited! Their voices wove their way into his mind, each spoken with mirth as the she-dragons restrained their tails from whipping into the walls with excitement. Amisar smiled at the sight and feeling of both his own and his sisters newfound vigor. Looking out over the darken skies outside, breathed in a deep sigh. “Even the air feels…” He trailed off as words escaped him. Otherworldly? He looked up at Naqessa as she stared outside as suddenly thunder lit up the canopy stretching beneath them. “Yes sister, otherworldly.”
The final farewell“You’d ought not to push yourself, my lord” Jedessa urged as she nervously watched the old man slowly walk down each step. The old man gave off an airy laugh that wove its way down the staircase like wind. He knew his limits but he could not help but poke fun at the girl’s concern. “If i were to despair at every staircase in this old place i wouldn't have made it past a hundred, my dear.” Jedessa frowned, she had long since gotten used to her master’s impetuousness to his own safety yet it still worried her. Moving down every step, one by one she stayed in front of him whilst leaning against the railing in case he might fall forward. “But you’re not a hundred anymore, my lord. You’re the last of the Targaryens to remain here at almost-” She paused, for not even she knew how old her lord was in truth. The old man suddenly stopped, the steady clank of his staff meeting stone coming to a sudden end. He opened his eyes, what shone once like amethysts now were a milky color with but a trace of purple in them. He looked at her, seeing her beautiful figure outlined by her dress almost seem to shimmer in the glow of candlelight around them. It had been many years now but he still remembered when he met her in the winding streets of Tyria. She had silver hair cut just above her shoulder, a slender figure and purple eyes like he once had. “How many years have you served me now?” He asked. “Fourteen my lord, approaching fifteen now.” She responded in a softened tone, seeming to look beyond him as she remembered. The day she had arrived at the great dragonkeep of the capital as an orphan at no more than ten years of age. From life as the daughter of a lowborn cook she had risen to personal servant of the patriarch of one of the great families of dragonriders. “And in those years, have you known me to overestimate myself?” She looked at him briefly, the gentle smile he wore nearly removed all worry as he hunched over his staff. The same smile he wore the day she met him. She had been starving and fearing for her life as a group of escaped slaves gathered around her, pushing her legs open as she screamed. Yet despite the terror of that day, it was a happy memory as what came afterward made it all worth it. A figure had appeared and drew away the darkness of the alley like a fire, guards came rushing in and soon she was alone with him. She had been in pain, but now that pain was gone and she knew she was seeing the face of a dragonlord. She felt herself lifted up and she had thought that this was the end for her. And then the figure spoke to her. And she knew she was safe. “No, my lord.” She said, then giving a wry grin as she switched to a hushed tone. “With the exception of your abilities to handle Lord Kelion’s firewines.” The old man clicked his tongue in veiled amusement. “Insolent pup.” Straightening his back slightly, the old man extended his arm and gave way to his right. “Very well, if it makes you feel better i'll let you help i suppose.” Smiling, she walked up and reached around his back, allowing him to brace himself against her. He was every bit as light as the staff she now held in her right hand. Valyrian steel, dark, weeping with red rubies lining the top. She kissed the side of his head softly. “Thank you for indulging this servant girl.” “You’re more than a servant, Jedessa.” He responded with a smile as they started working their way down the stairs, “Was my attendance at your wedding not proof of that?” “Perhaps,” She responded, “But I also remember someone leaving early that day.” He frowned grimly. “I did not wanna take away attention from the groom and bride.” “We both know that isn’t true.” She said abruptly, glancing at him. “You changed. As did your family.” His eyes closed again as he sighed. “You carry a gentle heart, Jedessa, you needn’t worry yourself over this.” “Daenys, Aenar, Gaemon, Elaena, everyone but you left.” She continued nonetheless. “Is…” Jedessa paused. “Is it true what Daenys said? About the fall?” There was silence, broken only by the sound of footfalls on stone. “I don't know.” He responded, in an unusually grave tone. “I don’t know…” The rest of the walk down continued in silence as Jedessa pondered over what might come. She had served her lord through fourteen long years and throughout all that time she had never seen him truly afraid. For every moment she saw him he wore the veil of a sly wolf, using the cunning of his mind as a sword as his body failed him. Yet here in this moment, he was not Amisar the immortal dragonlord of house Targaryen, but an old man, afraid. “Oh thank the gods, I thought these stairs would never end.” The silence was broken by the thankful words of Amisar seeing the light at the bottom of the stairs. Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Jedessa almost instinctively responded. “You and me both, my lord, I thought that I might have to carry you to the bottom with how you were trembling.” The words came out of her mouth before she could even catch herself and she quickly placed a hand over her mouth. But just as she did, a hand quickly flicked her forehead. “Quiet you.” Amisar chastised with a chuckle as his servant floundered in embarrassment at her quick tongue. “Apologies, my lord.” “It's fine, Jedessa, now give me my staff back.” Blinking, the girl hadn’t realized she had now pulled back from her lord and was now grasping the staff at the bottom of the staircase. Now thoroughly flustered, she blushed and gave a shallow bow to cover her face as she gave back his staff. Chuckling at her, he walked past her and ruffled her hair causing her to give off a squeak. “My lord!” She pouted as she fixed her hair. “Not as we’re about to meet Gaemon.” “Why? Still got a crush on the boy?” Her face grew red as she responded indignantly. "I'm married!" "I'm just teasing, Jedessa, I know you're loyal.” He said as he eyed her softly with a disarming smile. With an exasperated sigh she went to stand at his side as they walked towards the exit. “What did I ever do to deserve this?” “Teasing me for my lack of alcohol tolerance?” “Fair enough, my lord.” Holding eye contact for a second, the pair soon both broke into laughter at their blatant lack of decorum. Wiping a tear from her eye, they soon both regained their senses as they straightened themselves. “You ready, my lord?” Jedessa asked softly. “Always.” And they stepped through the doorway as the morning sun met their eyes. Amisar glanced around at the surrounding dock workers as they milled around in a flurry of activity. Some of the slaves immediately dropped what they were doing to kneel before the lord and were met with a firm nod of acknowledgement to continue their task. Others merely continued what they were doing, too focused on barking orders and hauling goods by the barrel onto the half a dozen gallyons docked in the harbor. The docked ships were massive, made for hauling goods rather than speed as their bulky frames were listing heavy in the water. The banners upon them all held the royal purple of the freehold, and underneath assigned were the colors of two families. Two of the vessels wore the red and black for Targaryens of dragonstone. Four the seagreen for their vassal house, the Valeryons of driftmark. “Amisar!” A booming voice suddenly called out. Who had dared to call him without his title? He wondered in a sudden burst of indignance. Opening his eyes, Amisar spotted the outline of a figure approaching from his right, he turned. Squinting he noticed the notable height of the figure as it approached as well as its slender frame. As they stopped in front of him he noted their seagreen surcoat and any confusion of their identity was removed as their knees bent to be at his level. “Miss me, old boy?” She asked, her slender fingers cupping his cheek. Amisar had not forgotten her despite her long absence. She was Elenia, the wild bastard of the late lord Valeryon. Known by her nickname “The Sea Drake”, she stood at a towering six feet tall. She had grown near Amisar’s height in his heyday but now all but shrouded him beneath her shadow. It appeared age had changed her as well however. Where long flowing locks of hair as black as sin flowed before, now rested a shoulder length cut of fraid gray hair. “Elenia… is that truly you?” Amisar stammered, not nearly believing his aged mind. He lifted his hand to grasp hers and felt her warmth. He had not yet forgotten. “Yes, father.” She responded, a lone tear flowing from her violet eyes and down her wrinkled face. “I’m here.” The clanking of a staff hitting stone suddenly rang out amongst the commotion of the docks. Amisar wrapped his arms around Elenia, silently weeping into the nook of her neck. “I missed you.” He whispered, his voice quivering with every word. “I missed you so much my little drake.” “Hush now father, you'll make me cry.” She comforted, unaware of the tears already present on her own face as she brushed his back. A silence filled the air between them as they both enjoyed their moment together. Holding one another, they then whispered to one another speaking words previously unspoken. As they did, Jedessa picked up the staff and held it close to her chest and watched on. Who was this woman? She wondered, partly in genuine curiosity and partly in veiled jealousy at the attention this stranger had suddenly received from her lord. Where did she come from? Jedessa thought to herself, she hadn't heard of a Velaryon that was particularly close to Amisar, nevermind someone of such stature. Looking at the two of them, she finally cleared her throat to signal them to part, yet it didn't appear as if they hadn't heard her. Harumphing, she turned her eyes to the world around her. Glancing to her hip, she touched the hilt of the blade confined to the sheath at her side. Dark sister, a sword who's worth more than outweighed her and all the ships in this harbor combined. “Distracted are we?” And like clockwork she had been caught unawares once more. Emelia, despite her height and age, seemingly snuck up on her like a shadow. Flinching back, Jedessa grasped the staff and let out a yelp. “Careful, Elenia. Not everyone is used to your tomfoolery.” Warned Amisar from behind her. She scoffed. “Pfah! If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought half this castle has forgotten me with how poorly your slaves handled docking.” Amisar’s grin let up for a moment at the mention of the slaves, yet returned soon after with a wolfish aesthetic. “Well your absence can be measured in their lifetimes, my dear.” Their eyes met and Jedessa held her breath as she watched the pair. No one outside the inner circle of the Targaryens dared to speak in Amisar in this way, yet this lady continues to openly defy him. The silence was lifted however as both suddenly burst out laughing. Elenia clutched her belly as Jedessa let out a breath and handed the staff back to wheezing Amisar. “Still as sharp as ever then, hm?” Elenia asked through her laughter. “More than you'll ever be, it seems.” Amisar answered in quick succession. “Hah! So it does!” Glancing over to Jedessa, Elenia pointed to her. “So would you introduce me? Your servant girl seems quite confused.” Seemingly only now remembering her presence, Amisar regained some semblance of formality as he cleared his voice. “Apologies Jedessa, it appears I got caught up in the moment.” “No need to apologize on my behalf, my lord.” She responded calmly, yet all the while trying not to overtly stare at the towering Elenia. “Very well then.” He nodded to her and turned to Elenia. “Elenia, meet Jedessa, my servant and closest confidant. Jedessa, meet Elenia, my adopted daughter.” Jedessa blinked. Then blinked again. Daughter? She had not heard of her even in reference from others within the keep. “I see… my pleasure Lady Elenia, i had not heard of you before.” Amisar shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “That would be because of me.” Elenia suddenly looked forlorn, looking to the ground as she kicked a rock off the peer. “50 years ago lady Elenia was brought to this very keep by the late lord Corwyn as a ward.” He gestured to her. “She was only 10 at the time, yet had caught the eye of Corwyn by virtue of-” He paused. “Me being his bastard?” “Your intellect.” Amisar deadpanned. “At the time I thought nothing of it but as I tutored her, we grew close. She excelled in the ways of war and took to the seas like a fish to water.” “You’re terrible.” “I know.” He snickers. “Nonetheless eventually the good lord Corwyn remembered her.” He spat out his name like poison. “Amisar-” Elenia began but was cut off. “No. He took you away from me, I'll never forgive that. At least he had the good sense to escape to Volantis lest I had cut his throat.” “My lord?” Jedessa offered meekly. “Pardon. Corwyn had always been beset by greed and envy, so when the opportunity arose to steal Elenia back from under me, he took it. He recognized her as his bastard and then had Aenar’s father legitimize her.” Amisar sighed. “By then it was too late, a patriarch may well have sway over his own family but that of their vassals?” He shook his head. “I'm sorry if I brought up bad memories.” Jedessa stuttered, suddenly feeling a deep shame for having been jealous of the lady Valeryon. To think that someone would take advantage of Amisar kindness so blatantly was foreign to her, unthinkable even. "It's alright, Jedessa.” Elenia responded. “However much I missed my REAL father,” She glanced at the smiling Amisar. “The position of lord admiral of driftmark didn't come without its perks.” “So I’ve heard,” Amisar responded. “ironborn reavers to asshaii’ sorcerer captains. It's a wonder I didn't know you had arrived in the harbor by the amount of blood often left in your wake.” Elenia formed a crooked smile, all the while tapping the hilt of the sword on her hip. “More than you know of, old boy.” She then grasped the hilt and let the blade loose from its sheath, holding it bear before the two of them. “Seafoam thirsted.” In her hand was a curved arming sword with weeping gray tones roiling on its surface like mist. A cutlass, if Jedessas memory served her correctly and one made of valyrian steel no less. “Seafoam…” Amisar whispered. “When did you-” “Upon recognising me as his child, I took great pleasure in seducing his son to give me whatever I wished.” Elenia said proudly before leaning into whisper to Jedessa. “I told his father that the bruises left on him were from the training yard.” Amisar gaped at his daughter’s openness as Jedessa blushed heavily. Who would openly admit that? She thought to herself. “Elenia! For shame!” Amisar scolded lightly. “What? He had none.” She responded joyfully. He sighed at her nonchalant attitude. “I see you still haven't changed THAT part of you at least.” “It's a step up from servant boys, you have to admit.” “Shut up.” “Oops, sorry.” Holding her hands up placatingly, it wasn't that convincing given her grin. Turning to Jedessa, who was still trying to regain her composure, he slightly bowed his head. “Apologies for her behavior, she was dropped as a child.” “I had a great teacher.” Elenia piped up but was then let out a yelp as Amisar used his staff to launch a pebble at her forehead. “N-no worries, my lord.” Jedessa laughed awkwardly as she scratched the back of her head. “I had heard sailors have quite the foul mouth although I can't say I've had the privilege of a first hand experience.” She glanced at Elenia rubbing her forehead. Sighing, Amisar turned back to Elenia. “So, would you happen to know where Gaemon is?” He pointed to the blade on Jedessa’s hip. “I have a blade of my own that needs to be given back to its rightful owner.” Gaining some semblance of professionalism, Elenia stood up straight and grimaced. “He couldn't make the journey, unfortunately. Some spring sickness has crossed over from westeros. Lord Celtigar had already passed when I had left port and lady Eleana was not faring much better.” Jedessa and Amisar both frowned. It had been a long time since she last saw Gaemon, he had always been kind to her and Daenys. She hoped they were both safe. Amisar’s eyes turned to the ground. “Well, that's a shame. I had been looking forward to seeing him again.” He sighed and then looked up to Elenia. “I hope you'll give them my regards, and wish Eleana a speedy recovery.” It was hard not to forget Eleana, Jedessa thought. The wife of lord Aenar had often beaten her as a child for even the smallest mistake. Although after being caught by Amisar, that had soon changed and she seldom saw her again. “I will, don't worry.” Elenia replied. “I suppose we’d ought to get the old thing shipside.” Nodding, Elenia turned to the largest of the vessels there and gestured to them. “Step up then, welcome aboard the Irondeck.” Morning turned to noon, and from noon to evening. All the while the trio had taken their conversation from the docks to inside the cabin of the flagship of the fleet. Ripping apart the leg of chicken Elenia was as uncouth with her table manners as she was about her nightly activities. “So-” She began between her chewing, “are you gonna stay?” “Hm?” “In the freehold, Amisar. You know what Daenys had foretold. Dragon dreams seldom lie.” The patriarch hummed to himself as he nursed a cup of wine. “I'm aware. Not that I don't believe her. I do but…” He trailed off, sighing heavily. "I'm old Elenia. Too old. Even my dragon can't fly anymore and we were born under the same moon.” “That's never stopped you before.” Elenia replied softly with a frown. “Perhaps not, but I'm tired, Elenia. I'm tired of living under this marred system.” He looked into the cup as he gently swirled it. Thinking of his past, over 500 years… “I’ve failed Elenia. So long I had tried to give reverence to the gods, to convince our fellow dragonlords to abandon this flesh peddling.” He sighed. “And yet, it remains. Since the slavelords of the slaver's bay got their hooks into the families of the freehold, it was too late.” He looked up at her, sadness in his eyes. “If the freehold is to fall, I should fall with it.” Silence filled the cabin. Elenia put down her cutlery and looked into his eyes. “I see… You’ve already made your mind up.” “I have.” “And there’s nothing I can do to change it?” “No, you can not.” She sighed, breaking eye contact and falling back into her seat. “Very well.” “WHAT?!” Jedessa exclaimed, red in the face with fury. “How are you okay with this?” “Jedessa-” Amisar began. “No! You just admitted to wanting to die! How are both of you okay with this?” Tears were running down her face as her eyes frantically looked between them. Elenia, her face turned to the ceiling, merely sighed. “The old man is more than half a millennium old, I think he can decide when enough is enough.” She then lazily pointed in Amisar’s direction. “Besides, he's a stubborn old fool.” “Thank you, little drake.” “That wasn't a compliment.” Hiccuping and throwing herself into his lap, Jedessa wept. She thought back to all the moments they’ve shared together. Every moment of happiness, every moment of comfort and one single thought at the end of each memory. It all coming to an end. She felt a hand upon her head, petting it. Warm fingers combed through her hair and another hand stroked her back. Amisar hushed her softly. “There there, Jedessa.” “No…” She murmured into his clothes. “Don't say it will be okay, it's not okay!” “It will.” He whispered. “No future is set in stone, little one, but one thing is certain. We all have a beginning and an end.” He pulled her face up to face him and they looked into each other's eyes. “I am old, Jedessa, and in pain. But for the time you've been with me.” He looked up to Elenia, who had stray tears falling from her cheeks. “the time BOTH of you have been with me. You’ve given me such joy and happiness that I'll never be able to repay. But I ask you for this one final time to give this old man one last wish.” They both slowly nodded in turn, and held their breath. Amisar turned to look at Elenia. “When the time comes for your departure, take Jedessa and her family with you.” It had been a month since then, and Amisar was now looking upon the waving figures of Elenia and Jedessa slowly disappearing towards the horizon. What joys they had been, he thought. He had spent the majority of their time together after their conversation upon the Irondeck enjoying the luxuries of the freehold and reliving old memories. They walked amongst the streets of Tyria, visited orphanages, listened to music, and went drinking together with old friends. And now they were gone, he thought to himself. He sighed, he knew the moment was inevitable but the inevitability of it made it no less bitter. Glancing to the now empty docks, and the setting sun, he wished he’d never went to Asshai. “I shouldn't have lived this long.” He whispered to himself. “My lord?” A voice uttered behind him. He turned around and saw the figure of a young girl. A new servant, a new name. How long will this one last? How long before I come to love them, and how long before they leave me? No more, he thought. The end is near, I shan't bear the weight of another love lost. “Come, servant. Help me up the stairs.” Servants walked past him through the halls in a flowing river of red and black, all bearing the silver hair of valyrians. For as the freehold mandated, no foreigners may enter dragonkeeps. As if other families have the right to tell me who I can and can't let into my halls, Amisar thought to himself. He had traveled Westeros, Sothoryos and Essos and bar perhaps the most frivolous of Yi Tish nobility, no one matched his “equals” in the freehold in their arrogance. But then again perhaps he should not judge, he was after all the very essence of hubris. In his youth he wanted to be Aerion, the legendary first dragon rider who brought the valyrian peninsula from a bunch of warring tribes to a freehold. One which in the beginning brought freedom for all men. What a wretched thing they had turned it into, he thought. For as he had read more and more of the histories of the freehold, the more into a pit of despair he fell into. Ever since the gheskari had fallen to the freehold and the freehold had a taste of the sweet meat of slavery, it never let go. For the fourteen flames, the volcanoes dotting the peninsula, rich in rare minerals, were hungry. And their hunger was only slacked by the blood of hundreds of thousands of slaves. He looked out from one of the many windows of the lower hall, even from the first floor he could see far away. For the mount on which the dragonkeep rested was one of the highest. From its perch Amisar could see the spires of the capital of Valyria in the distance. In that city he had debated, conspired and betrayed to achieve his goals. Yet for every lord he convinced of his cause, ten more were swayed by the luxuries born of their class. “Fools…” He whispered to himself. It had taken a decade until he realized he would not win but a foothold with his beliefs in the grand council. And thus he abandoned his place in the freehold to become an adventurer, trying to find a way to extend his life so he might one day win by simple attrition. His journey brought him across every known continent till he finally found the red sorcerers of Asshai, where he had branded a ruby into his heart. It did extend his life, but it did not make him truly ageless as was evident. Not that it helped, he thought. Sighing dejectedly he turned to look upon the door to the vault, but a single light caught his eye in the distance. A dragonfire? He thought, as the fire spread from the freehold. But the fire kept spreading, growing larger, until- A giant tremor suddenly swept through the castle, screams rang out from the servants and Amisar gripped the window with its lists. His eyes never left the horizon as he looked on in horror at what was wrought upon the capital. Plumes of fire were spewed out, toppling great spires, he could the shapes of dragons falling out of the sky for even they could not bear the onslaught. Giant stones were flung as each one of the volcanoes visible all burst open like dams, issuing forth a torrent of molten rock. Whole towns were swallowed and as he looked beneath his own walls, he saw that water was flooding in from the direction opposite the interior view. “Oh gods!” Amisar cried. “Daenys doom is here! Oh Arrax have mercy on us all!” He turned to the vault door, rushing to it as the servants were still panicking at the chaos that was unfolding. Pushing his entire weight against the door, he slowly moved it, inch by inch, all the while the screams of the people behind him could be heard. Giving one final push, he finally saw that a crack had opened enough for him to squeeze his body through. Practically throwing himself through it, he let out a large breath to try to make himself smaller. Seconds passed and as soon as his chest had squeezed through, the rest of him toppled over to the other side. Thankfully it was easier to close the door again. Looking through the crack though, one last horrible sight left him crying out in fear as he watched a wyrm with a human face crawl up the neck of one of the servant girls. The girl was screaming and clawing at it as it burned her skin, and as the vault closed itself off to the outside world, the wyrm slithered inside the mouth of its victim. A thunk rang out. Darkness. All that was heard was the panicked breaths of Amisar Thumbling for his staff, the patriarch was brought to his knees, his hands touching stone, stone, stone, metal. Grabbing ahold of it, he turned himself back to the doors and with his hands upon the handles, he stuck the staff between them. “Fuck…” He exclaimed breathlessly. “What the fuck…” What was that?! He thought to himself. Those weren't the servants of Arrax, those were- he searched for the word in his head. Demons! Monsters of the hells of Sothoryos or the deepest caverns of the fourteen flames! He wished to die, but to something like that? No. Not like that. Not peeling the skin from his flesh as he was boiled inside out. Amisar went to stand, and turning around to the giant chamber, he calmed himself, although his breath was still uneven. “I will not die today.” He whispered. He took a deep breath. “Awaken, Naqessa! Awaken, Drivessa! Awaken, Karessa!” Silence. He knew they were there, he felt her, I felt THEM. His sisters. A deep rumbling filled the hall, the sound reverberating through his very bones. In comparison to the terror-inducing rumble of the disaster outside, this one offered comfort, like the hum of a mother to her child. One turned to two, two to three, and soon dust filled the chamber from all sides as something was moving. Suddenly, from the pitch black darkness, a light blue fire spewed into the air and made a noise akin to a roar. Shielding his eyes from the sudden blast of light, Amisar then looked on with a smile as two crystal blue eyes looked down at him. Golden scales, discolored by age, reflected as the blazing light danced upon the ceiling before coming to an end. Leaving him with but the glow of her eyes to stare into. “Good morning, Naqessa.” He said lovingly, the dragon purring deeply in return, her singsong voice finally calming his nerves. The moment was broken as another flame broke out to his left. This one was dyed a deep green and instead of a single burst, this one was spewed forth like a firestorm. She loves to burn, Amisar thought to himself. The fire eventually came to an end, and a good thing she spewed forth so much, for besides her eyes, her entire body was as black as sin. Rumored to be the ancestor of Balerion, the ashen dragon bonded to Daenys, the she-dragon was nothing if not fierce. “You’re as beautiful as ever, Drivessa.” Amisar said, with not an ounce of fear in him. For he knew she would sooner burn herself than hurt him. Staring down at him with her emerald eyes, she cooed lovingly at her brother. Finally, the last of the dragons made themself known as a plume of violet and white fire rose and blended with the green fire of Drivessa. Throwing her head from side to side to get the dust off of her, this she-dragon was almost a carbon copy of himself. She was pure white, with purple eyes and wings. The middle child of the three dragons, she was always the most clever, and always the most haughty. Making sure not an ounce of dust was left on her, she looked down at Amisar. “The beauty rest did you good Karessa.” Amisar greeted her. “You shine like a thousand stars.” The dragon preened at the compliment and cooed lovingly, her amethyst eyes looking down at Amisar. The three of them, like him, had been too old to travel to Dragonstone and thus had nested within the dragonkeep as forgedrakes. Their fires gave the finest blades and armor of the freehold in the last 50 years. “I'm sorry to disturb your rest, yet there is something urgent that has arisen.” He spoke to them. “You feel it dont you? Arrax judgment is here.” They suddenly turned their heads to where the sky would be, their heads tilting in different directions. They let off distressed mewls as their mood shifted to fear. “There there, little ones.” He approached, the three of the lowering their heads to his level. Although each of them could easily swallow a mammoth whole, they were still his little sisters. Amisar stroked each of their noses, feeling their hot breath wash over him made him feel safer, despite the growing darkness that surrounded them. “It’ll be okay…” He looked to the side, the area marked off as his private armory. It was no more than a raised platform, but upon it rested a menagerie of items collected by him throughout his travels. “Stay here, little ones.” Amisar spoke to them, nodding to Naqessa. Understanding what he meant, the eldest she-dragon shifted so both her younger siblings could rest against her, comforting them with her heat and bulk. After all, she was the largest of the three. Stepping onto the platform, he quickly went to grab a dragonglass candle. The black oily stone felt heavy in his hand yet felt strangely… empty. Whispering an incantation, he held it aloft, yet no light came forth. “Strange…” He said to himself. It was as if the magic within was just… gone. Looking back into the darkness behind him he yelled aloud. “Drivessa, dracarys!" The sound of his voice echoed across the walls and soon thereafter, a torrent of flame spewed out across the ceiling and colored the chamber in a green hue. Looking back at the armory, he sighed. Two rows of items stood on each side, and at the end a stone throne. “Right. Let's hope this works.” … Sitting on the throne, Amisar sat with a full set of scaled black armor, a size too big for him, for it was made during his youth. Upon his head rested a crown of weirwood from beyond the ice wall of westeros. In his left hand, a bottle of red liquid, blood from a king of the stormlands. In his right hand, a deep blue potion made by a shadowmancer of asshai. ‘Shade of the evening,’ they called it, as Amisar recalled. Green magic, blood magic, shadow magic. Three of a whole, three elements to change fate and bind the world to your will. Help me Arrax, grant me mercy upon this day of doom. The ceiling had begun collapsing in some places, his dragons now sat clustered around him, seeking his comfort. Water had begun rushing in through the door and the end was soon approaching. “Drivessa, a light if you please.” He spoke softly. She obliged him, fire slowly rising out of her mouth akin to a furnace. Breathing deeply, he concentrated. His mouth moved, speaking words of power, beseeching Arrax to grant him mercy, for Gaelithox to grant him the binding of fire, and finally for Vermax to grant him travel. “Please.” He pleaded as he saw the fire snake around his hands, as if alive. “Set us free.” The fire touched the bottles, breaking them. Out of them, came light. Amisar screamed, and all went black. Author's Note Thank you for reading. Currently contemplating writing the rest of the story in first person instead of third. It'll probably go faster with updates if i switch to first person. Kindly let me know your thoughts.
From flight to fightIt seems as though he had been falling for years. ‘Fly’ a voice had called, but he did not know how to. So he fell. He remembered when had ridden Naqessa as a child and his mother had scolded him for not using his saddle. Her face was fuzzy, he could not remember it in detail. What he could remember was the day when she had been flung from one of the spires of Valyria. Yet another blood feud, yet another death. He had seen how her body moved like a falling tissue in that white dress she wore. She fell and fell and came to a sudden stop. His servant had shielded him from the worst of it, but he could still remember the noise. The sound cracking of bones mixed with wet flesh falling to pieces. It haunted him for many years how she had laid there. His mother was reduced to a pile of flesh and bone beneath a blanket of silk. He never flew without his saddle again. The ground was closer now, yet still so far that he could barely see it through the mist that whirled around him. He knew though that even in his dreams, he could not fall forever. ‘And if you do?’ the voice asked again. Then it is so, Amisar thought. He was not a little boy that needed comfort. He was a dragon, he assured himself, even if I am bereft of wings, fire is in my blood. The ground was closer now, still a thousand miles away, but closer. He saw mountains, hills and fields. Stars around him and a moon four times the size of the one back home accompanied him in the sky. He kept falling, it was just him, the ground, the stars, and the voice. He was about to panic when he heard it again. 'Don't cry, fly.’ “I don't know how to.” ‘Have you ever tried?’ The voice was warm, akin to an older brother. He looked around himself, and a light shone from above him. Flying up next to him was the shape of a man, taller than himself and made entirely out of starlight. Upon the back of the man was a pair of dragonwings, each seeming massive in comparison to him. They did not move, he kept falling. “Who are you?” Amisar asked. “You know me.” “Can you help me?” “I already am.” “... A-are you a god?” “I am.” “Are you really a god?” He asked in wonder. “Are you really falling?” The figure smiled. “This is just a dream.” “Is it?” Images flashed before him. Carnage. Volcanoes exploding. Cities being swallowed by the seas. A three headed dragon flew away, but it was left bleeding from the doom. “Hit the ground, and you will die.” He wept. The god reached to him, letting his hand whisk away Amisars tears. “Crying is not the answer, child.” He looked down, he could see snow now. Forests, seas, cities. “I told you, flying is the answer, not crying.” “You have wings, use them!” “I do. But there are many sorts of wings.” Amisar stared at him, then turned to himself. He saw his body, frail and weak. His arms, his legs, they were thinner now, weaker. He remembered his youth, he was not always this weak. He was not meant to be this weak, he knew. A figure flew past them, wrapped in silk, covered in blood. He screamed. “Not that,” The figure waved, the vision disappearing. “you do not need that.” The figure then flicked his forehead, forcing Amisars eyes to turn to him. “You said you’d help me!” “I am. I'm teaching you to fly.” The mists blew harder now, he forced himself from looking at the ground as it grew ever nearer. He felt it, he feared it. “Your teachings are not working, make me fly!” “You’re flying right now.” "I'm falling!" Amisar cried in exasperation. “Every flight begins with a fall, Amisar.” The figure smiled, and he thought it was the end. But then the massive wings wrapped around him, into him, covering him in stars. He closed his eyes. ‘You’re not a dragon, Amisar. You’re so much more.’ He opened his eyes, the figure, the mist, all was gone. Just him and the ground. He looked south and saw seas and rolling deserts. He saw women and children starving in the streets, with men eating their corpses. He saw great beasts gathering into flying warships, and a kraken gathering a storm around him. He looked west and saw a swarm of locusts covering the ground, swallowing towns in their wake. Women, men and children were torn asunder. And upon a hill, sat a queen dressed in blood. He saw vast emptiness as well, with lands undiscovered by men. He looked north and saw frost and ice, roads of steel and wood jutted out of the drifts. All coalesced to a single point, a great city within the cold made out of crystal and rock. It shone like a beacon, but within the deep forests he saw that darkness ruled. A great stag king ruled within, wielding absolute authority. Turning his eyes east, he saw a great empire rising anew, roads were being built and fields sown. Within a great tree, an eagle with a crown upon his head sat aloft with an idol in his talons. Further beyond however sat an island, connected to the land via a single land bridge, falling and rising from the sea. Upon it, volcanoes spewed forth and giant magma pools formed beneath. No smoke flowed from them however, the molten rock seeming somehow pure. About the flames, dragons flew in the hundreds, eventually coalescing around a single figure, a blue drake wielding a scepter and a crown. His breathing had fallen silent in wonder, he had not seen a vision so vivid since the visit to Asshai. Catching himself, he gasped for air and looked to his hands, he was covered in stars. “Where am I..." He looked to the ground, he was floating just above a white tipped mountain, standing alone within a massive jungle. Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. Turning around, the figure of a giant dragon wreathed in shadow and smoke rose over him. It turned to him, fangs flashing. Before he could lift a finger, it opened its mouth and death reached out for him with fire. He screamed, and lifted his arms to cover his face. All went black. A trickle echoed through the darkness. Drop after drop hit the ground in a steady rhythm that made a ripple in the puddle beneath. Here, life was constrained to bioluminescent mosses, insects, bats and sightless reptiles. That is until now. A gasp echoed through the cave, the sound bouncing off the walls and was quickly followed by a hacking noise. Amisar was in total darkness, on his knees and clutching his chest as he attempted to cough up a supper that did not exist. The hacking soon quieted down, turning into a wheeze mixed with heavy breathing. Amisar’s mind was hazy as he could nearly not keep conscience in the stale air of the grotto. “Oh gods…” He exclaimed in a whisper. His voice sounded different somehow, he noted. It felt almost newer, although still beset by whatever the aftereffects of the spell was. The air did not make it any better, as every breath he took filled his lungs with the pungent stench of bat feces. Feeling his armor graze across rock, and the echoes around him, Amisar grew concerned. “Did the spell not work?” His voice was clearer now, he felt as if he had just been freed of a sore throat. Looking around himself he called out. “Naqessa?” Silence, their bond was severed. “Drivessa?” Silence, he could not hear her roaring flames. “... Karessa?” Silence, her purr was nowhere to be found. All that was heard was the slow dripping of water from the ceiling and the noise of Amisars breathing. He was alone. Falling onto his back, he looked up to the darkness and closed his eyes. “Gods help me…” He whispered. The smell of bat feces and the constant dripping of water made the rest short and weary. Although at the very least I'm able to stand on my own two feet, the lord Targaryen thought. Pushing himself off his knees, Amisar rose slowly and rose further still. Even in the blinding darkness he felt taller, and the armor no longer constrained him as it once did. He traced his chestplate with his gauntlet covered fingers. “How strange…” He whispered to himself before focusing on his surroundings. Since he could not rely on his sense of sight or smell, he thought, he must rely on touch and hearing. Thus he began taking slow and cautious steps forward, his arms stretching out before him. The ground was uneven, so he had often needed to hesitantly feel out the space before him. He had walked around twenty paces before finally finding a wall. “Right, let's see here.” Using his feet, he felt out which direction felt lower and which felt higher. “Left.” Turning his head to his left side, he slowly began walking upwards through the snaking cave system. Although this wasn't the first time he had spent in darkness, it was the first time he had felt truly alone. Throughout his whole life he had been bonded to Draqessa, and that bond extended to her sisters when Amisar’s siblings had died in the crib. Now, a small part of himself felt removed, and nothing took its place, just emptiness. “Gods have mercy, don't leave me here alone, sisters.” He whispered. “I can't do this on my own.” Trudging slowly up and taking several breaks along the way, the better part of three hours had passed. “For crying out loud!” Amisar panted. “How far beneath the earth am i?!” The heat of the lower levels had by now dissipated and the smell of feces had wafted out, however that was now replaced by a cool chill. Being born of fire and blood freed him of discomfort of the cold, yet the wind blowing in his face made him wince at times. He remembered a similar time, where without the help of his dragons, he tried scaling the great ice wall of westeros. This wasn't as cold nor as dangerous, but the constant strain and windchill made him reminisce. Thinking about it however, just a couple months back he wouldn't dream of putting this much strain on himself. Yet now he had marched up what was sure to be hundreds of meters, only stopping for a few times. Suddenly, he stopped. “Is that? …” He paused, halting his panting. For a while all he heard was the dripping of water, but further away still he then heard it. The distinct noise of rain. “I swear, if that's another flock of bats taking the world’s foulest shit…” He muttered to himself, partly in exasperation, partly in relief. Trudging slowly through the darkness, the patriarch repeated prayers to the gods. “Oh Arrax, father above, grant me your strength, let me not fear my foe. Oh Aegerax, mother above, let my blood be strong and noble as you have willed.” He took ragged breaths between nearly every word, he could hear the rain clearly now. “Oh Tyraxes, master of peace and war, grant me your mercy, help me in failure, and give me the will to forgive in victory. Oh Gaelithox, my fire within, grant the guiding light of your fire, your stars and moon.” He saw light finally and smiled, his legs regaining some strength and he walked faster with every step. In his joy, he gave two final prayers, both born of the drive from a nearly dead man. Finally free to see, finally free from darkness. “Oh Belarion, lord of death, free me from these halls, and embrace me another day. Oh Meleys, lady love, guide me to my sisters, and I'll never let them go again.” And with a final running step, Amisar crossed the threshold. “Gods be praised.” He panted, his breath finally feeling fresh air. He was hunched over now, feeling like he’d keel over at any time. Time to find a wall to fall asleep on, he thought. As he went to stand straight however, he looked to his hands. “What in the…” He couldn't finish his sentence, his breath caught itself. His hands, arms, legs, all were as if made anew. They looked healthy, and strong, he thought. Flexing his muscles under the tautness of his armor, it felt like he was young again. It looked like he was young again. Looking beyond his hands, he saw a puddle in front of him. Cautiously he approached it, his movements careful despite the burning sensation from his legs. Slowly he got to his knees and looked into the water bound mirror. Amisar bent forward, his visage reflecting off the surface. Just as he did however, he quickly darted back with a gasp. He touched his face tentatively, his gauntlet covered hands twitching slightly. He dragged his hand from chin, to brow, to his hair. My hair, Amisar suddenly thought, and lightly grasped it. Where a short, wiry mess hung before now lay a silken shroud of white hair, running all the way to the middle of his back. He sat there for a moment, just playing with it mindlessly. He smiled, he smiled the broadest smile he had ever had. “Oh gods, thank you!” He shouted laughing gleefully, “Thank you for granting this pitiful lord life anew!” He threw his head up, looking to the ceiling of the cave. Only then realizing- “My eyes! I can see!” Tears started to form as his laugh was mixed with a quiet sobbing. He did not know whether to laugh at the absurdity of it all, or to break down sobbing in joy. “I cant- i cant be deserving of this- Oh gods so many died-” Anguish. “I'm not worthy of this- My servants they- I've killed and maimed and-” Guilt. “I… Thank you so much.” Acceptance. Amisar broke down crying as thunder rang out outside, blanketing him in light and outlining him against the ground. He had grown taller, standing at little above six feet. He was of a tall yet lithe build, toned with muscle, with long elegant fingers. Amisar's face was beautiful, he had smooth features that gave him an aristocratic charm, mixing parts both masculine and feminine to seem almost angelic. His eyes, previously milky, had returned to an amethyst color with a sheen in them. Finally his hair was long and flowing with a silken smooth texture to them. Looking at him, one would not fault the slaves of the freehold for thinking him a god in his youth. Eventually, after having thanked all fourteen gods of the freehold individually, the sobbing quieted down to a muted silence. “Your will shall be done, Arrax, I will not disappoint you.” Taking a deep breath, the dragonlord smiled. He felt more alive than ever, freer than ever, for even in servitude to his gods, without the responsibility of leading his house, he needn't be tied down any longer. Sitting there, he felt as if the air itself, humid as it was, felt not only fresher but somehow different. It reminded him of his journey to the wall, where magic flowed off its enchantments, but this time it was all around him, inside him even. Standing up straight, he looked outside. It was raining hard, and the thunder was all around him. From what he could see, as the thunder lit up the sky, he was upon a great mountain. And beneath him was forest, although it was hard to make out from the small glimpses. “Are you finally done?” A deep rumbling voice, speaking in westerosi common, spoke out, shaking Amisars very bones from the sheer volume. Whirling around, with fists raised, he soon found himself faced with not a man, but a giant… drake. He was not sure what to call it. It bore scales, wings, claws and legs, but to call it a dragon would be an insult to his sisters, he thought. Its snout was far too long, its wings were too small to carry its big gut, and it bore four legs! It rested upon a massive hoard of gold. It was akin to the Westerosi legends of dragons stealing treasures of both coin and flesh. His eyes peered over the fat wyrm, looking for the one who spoke out, yet he saw none. Curiously though, he did find his crown and staff in its hoard. Looking into the eyes of the drake, he spoke out. “Qilōni issi ao? Māzigon hen!” (Who’s there?! Come out!) “Speak sense ape!” The drake replied harshly. “You stand before your doom.” Amisar was amazed. That a beast like this could think, much less speak, was incomprehensible to him. Have I gone mad? He thought, first escaping the destruction of the greatest civilisation ever to be, talking with a god, getting stuck in a cave for hours, regaining his youth- and now a talking wyrm? Looking at the drake, the words out of his mouth were instinct, not choice. “Iksin nyke iēdrosa ēdrure? … Skoros issi ao?” Amisar asked, still astonished from what he saw before him. (Am i still dreaming? …what are you?) The wyrm’s eyes gleamed with both anger and intelligence. “I know you understand me, ape, I see it in your eyes. I have not smelled your kind before,” His mouth turned to a cruel smile. “I wonder what they taste like.” Amisar’s curious gaze turned cold at the threat. “I speak your tongue, drake. Although I can't for the life of me understand why you choose to speak westerosi.” “I speak common, fool.” The drake answered, confused at the patriarch's words. “‘Common fool?’ an odd name for a language.” The dragon snorted in anger at the small creature's quick wittedness. “Tell me, are you some sort of beast from the flesh pits of Gogossos?” “Beast?” The drake rose, gold falling off its form as it extended its wings with its face a twisted sneer. “You stand before Gostir, king of the everfree! Greatest of all dragons!” Looking down at him, this ‘dragon’ is akin to a tropical bird trying to show off to mate, Amisar thought to himself. “And you are a feckless ape! I am curious though, most feel the inclination to bow or run before me, as they should before their death.” Gostir drew its head down to see Amisar better. “Tell me, wretch, why don't you fear me?” His voice seemed akin to a purr, despite the threat. “My name is Amisar Targaryen, dragonlord of the freehold of Valyria, and I bow only before the gods. So tell me, king of thieves, where did you get those?” Amisar said harshly, glaring at Gostir, then pointing towards the staff and crown sitting on the edge of the hoard. Glancing at where he was pointing, Gostir snorted. “Diamond dogs tribute, so what? Are they yours?” A deep rumbling laugh shook the chamber. “Well, no longer.” The drake then advanced, slowly, like a shadowcat stalking its prey, causing Amisar back up to the edge of the cave, his back toward the storm outside. “Dragonlord, hm? I could burn you with but an ember of my flame.” He grinned a cruel smile, rows of sharp teeth gleaming in the light of the thunder. “I always did prefer my meat thoroughly cooked.” Feeling the danger he was in, Amisar’s eyes glided to the cave he exited out of. Too far, he realized. Switching his gaze to his side, he looked outside but realized the cliff face was too steep to climb down. There’s no escape, he thought to himself, steeling his nerves. Slowly he took off the gauntlet on his off hand and tossed it to the side. “Very well, if this is what you choose, Wyrm, I’ll give you what you want.” Amisar breathed deeply, lifting his hand to his mouth. “With fire and blood.” And bit down. In a rush of smoke, bursting out of the wound came a rod of blood. Moving quicker than Gostir could react, the projectile hit him square in the eye, blinding him. The drake reared up and grasped its face, screaming in pain as it sought to get the sizzling liquid out of its eye. Amisar bit deeper, throwing more of his blood magic toward the dragon as he turned toward the cave he exited from. Before he even took his first step however, a panicked swipe of Gostir’s tail brought the entire entrance crashing down in a heap of rubble and dust. Clicking his tongue, the lord turned back to the cliffedge. Thousands of feet, it was like he was back at the bone mountains, trying to escape the wild men of the bones. Alas there were no great warrior women to save him here, he thought. “Oh for fucks sake!” He sneered, trying to draw a plan in his mind. “Pity.” Gostir rasped, his wild swiping coming to an end. Turning around swiftly, Amisar bit his hand again, bringing forth another torrent against the dragon. This time though, the wyrm was quicker, letting his wing swipe away the rods as they came flying. Chuckling at his efforts, the drake withdrew his wing as the torrent of blood came to a stop. Amisar panted, holding his hand as his skin became visibly paler and his body colder. “So,” Gostir purred, “what will you do now? Blood ape?” He practically spat the last part out as if it was poison. Gostir was scarred, a noticeable amount of its face had scales that had been damaged, flaking away. Weaker than my sisters, Amisar thought, finding his thoughts… drawn to them suddenly. Eying the cliffedge, the dragonlord pondered the risk. “Careful, Ape, you might fall.” Gostir hissed cruelly. “You said you didn’t bow for anyone but the gods, well- here I am!” The dragon advanced. Amisar’s mind was a whirl, images blinking in and out of his thoughts. “You are filth!” His mind went to Drivessa, black scales, green eyes and flame. He remembered when she was young. Back then she was a tiny little thing, thought to not last her first winter. She did this cute little thing where she’d drape herself over my neck, not even my mother could wrench her off her perch, Amisar thought to himself. Always first to defend him, she had defended him during blood feuds that would surely had brought an end to him otherwise. Sometimes for the simple fact that she’d kidnap him right before an ambush to carry him off to the sisters nest to cuddle together. This was especially the case during her pregnancy, where only he was allowed near her brood to tend to them whilst she ate. “And I? I am fire!” The images blended into one another, changing form and shape. Black changed to white, emeralds to amethysts. Karessa, ever the clever one. More slender than her siblings, she was often viewed as a freak in her youth, nicknamed ‘the pale wyrm’. As she grew however the voices were silenced as she came to be one of the most beautiful dragons the freehold had to offer. He was so proud of her, remembering how she had struggled in her youth, not having the brawn of her sisters, she had to use her wits to compensate. He would read out loud to her during his tutoring, the words seeming to have meaning to her, as her eyes stared into his, weighing his words. If anyone were to call his sisters simple ‘beasts’ around Amisar, they’d be cut down. “I am death!” Black to white, green to purple, but none more glorious than gold. Naqessa, my sister, he thought. The eldest of the three, the one two bring the two others to his crib as a babe, she was the light of his life. When Amisar’s brother and sister died, the two other dragons had been left alone in the world, that was until she brought them to him. His warmth calmed then, the gentle purring of Naqessa forged within each of them a new bond. He may have lost a brother and a sister, but he had gained so much more. And when he was alone, thought to be at his sanity’s edge after his mother’s death. It was Naqessa who brought him back, made him feel…. Whole. The connection was back, stronger, he could feel her, each of them. The rain had stopped hitting him, Gostir had stopped too, his face awash with a mixture of anger and fear. And when Amisar looked up, there was gold.
Fire and bloodGold, rivers of it, flowed above him, each scale glittering in the light of thunder. Naqessa’s neck wove its way in front of Amisar, coming to a stop in front of Gostir. A deafening roar then rang out, Naqessa’s voice seeming to force Gostir back. Falling to his knees, Amisar smiled as he grasped his cold, blood stained hand. “Hello, sister.” The roar eventually came to an end as Gostir backed away with his back against his hoard. Two additional roars then rang outside as Amisar felt his two other sisters approaching. Gostir was at this point creating holes in the ground from his claws gripping it too hard. A duo of huge tremors then rang out. At Amisars left side, a torrent of green flame tore through the left side of the cave, collapsing it partially. Through the flames, the form of Drivessa appeared like a shadow, driving a spike of fear through Gostir as the she-dragon advanced out of the emerald shroud. Her scales, like Naqessa’s, were forged anew, having regained the iridescent shine of her youth. Eventually, she came to a stop, her head just behind Naqessa, eying the ‘king’ with hunger. Immediately after to Amisars right, the cave was lit up by a white flame, licks of amethyst purple on the edges. The glow from it unintendedly made the two other she-dragons shine that much brighter when Karessa's slender neck crossed the threshold. She was akin to a serpent sometimes, not that I'd say that openly, Amisar thought. She walked slowly, methodically, turning her head at different angles as she eyed her surroundings before coming to a stop at her sisters’ side. Watching Gostir, studying him. Using Naqessa’s wing as a brace, Amisar slowly rose to his feet and grasped the gauntlet at his side. He felt an overwhelming amount of relief from the appearance of his sisters, his fear seeming to wash away. Straightening his back, he rose to his full height. “So,” He began. “What was that you were saying? About being a god?” Gostir's gaze stayed on his sisters. “What are they?” “At least have the courtesy of asking ‘who’, wyrm.” Amisar spat. “You stand before Naqessa of the dawn, Drivessa the just and Karessa the magnificent. Dragons, all, and my sisters for that matter.” The wyrm snorted in disgust. “Dragons? They are beasts! The light of the keepers is absent from all of you!” Amisar’s eyes seemed to grow darker. “Careful, wyrm. I’m giving you one final chance. See reason and surrender, leave this place and swear never to come near my sisters again.” Gostir’s jaw clenched. “You would not survive, Gostir. The gods have etched our names into our bones, but it’s up to us to decide what they mean to both ourselves and others.” “And what gods would that be, ape?!” “The fourteen flames, the fathers and mothers of Valyria.” The dragonlord extended his hand, as if grasping something. “In the beginning, there was a void and within that void, a single egg. That egg, when cracked by lightning, was thrown open and gave birth to our world.” Amisar lifted and motioned to his left and right respectively. “The one half had little land yet a bottomless ocean, the other, endless land and little in terms of seas.” He then held his hands together as Gostir looked on. “But most importantly, out of this egg rose fourteen great volcanoes. The fourteen flames they were called and from them rose the gods, one for each flame.” “The first and mightiest, Arrax, the father of-” “Enough!” Gostir interrupted, his eyes full of rage. “I will not sit idly by and watch you preach such blasphemy! I am Gostir, the ancient scourge of the Everfree and Zawanda! You and your beasts are an affront to the keepers and I’d sooner die than suffer another second in your presence!” Amisar’s hands dropped, sighing as he looked at the wrathful wyrm. “You are hopelessly outmatched. Leave and live, or burn. I only want what is rightfully mine.” Gostir's tail suddenly swung out and threw part of his horde in all directions in the cave. Gold and jewels of all sorts clanked and echoed across the grotto. Falling within cracks and crevices it looked akin to snowfall as wealth untold glittered between the opposing dragons. “I am not so meek to submit to an ape. I am their hammer!” Gostir’s claws clenched and drove into the ground. “I am the tip of their spear!” His eyes dilated as he focused on the coins strewn about him. “I am death!” Suddenly the emerald wyrm threw his head up and let out a roar so loud that Amisar and his sisters all flinched. Gostir’s frills grew longer and his teeth sharper. His wings doubled in size and soon the rest of his followed as bones creaked and meat shifted. Amisar could not believe his eyes at what he was seeing but nonetheless maintained focus. He shifted his gaze to his sisters and saw them all baring their teeth with their eyes focused squarely on the wyrm’s neck. “I wonder,” he whispered to himself with a wolfish grin, “are you three as hungry as I am?” Positive. Hunger. Thirst. His mind was suddenly filled with their emotions. Their needs. Gostir’s roar slowly was drawn to an end and fell into heavy breathing. The fat wyrm was thus replaced by a behemoth rivaling Naqessa. His claws and teeth were made sharper, his wings more muscled. Even his scales were turned into a new sheen akin to his sisters. Amisar leered at the feral creature before him. Gone were the calculating eyes and arrogant attitude. What stood before him was a beast, unthinking for anything more than blood. Amisar counted down the seconds in his head and weighed the chances of defeat. The wyrm was large and fierce that much he could tell at least. It was clearly something unnatural, a creation of blood by these so called ‘keepers.’ Suddenly however the thoughts in his head crashed like waves upon a cliff when a single word echoed through his mind. Death. Amisar’s eyes turned to Drivessa, her emerald eye was staring back at him. Begging, thirsting, but more than anything craving his safety like the sweetest fruit. He knew then that despite the wyrm’s wrath that experience was on his side and if that wasn't enough then the love between the four of them would protect them. After all… this wasn't the first time his sisters had fought another of their kind. Breathing in and focusing back on Gostir he saw the wyrm rise to take off. Amisar thus steeled himself and uttered a single word as he put his gauntlet back on. “Dracarys.” The hulking frame of the monstrous wyrm wildly galloped forward with his wings flapping and striking the sides of the cave. Coming within a yard of the trio, Gostir’s eyes reflected a sudden onslaught of light. White, green, blue and violet. A beautiful spiral of swerving colors that for a second blinded the wyrm. That is before throwing him back to the other side of the cave in a force unfelt by the wyrm since his youth. The wall crashed in around him as his wildly flailing limbs tried to regain balance. He had fallen on his back and his eyes were burned again whilst the two younger she-dragons advanced. From where Amisar stood, the fact that the dragonlord had feared this beast made the man feel a deep regret, shame even. Shame that he would doubt his sisters. Shame that he believe that both he and his sisters, all children of Arrax would fall to this pitiful thing. No longer would he doubt. “Tear out his wings, sisters! Karessa, make him bleed, Drivessa, make him fear!” The sisters roared with glee as their teeth gnashed against the flailing limbs of Gostir. The pale dragon then lunged past his neck, tearing off a chunk of flesh but quickly pulled back as a stray foreleg nearly caught her eye. Drivessa then drew in her breath and released a torrent of fire, making the wyrm scream in panic and pain. Soon the green tide made his scaled hide pop open as his skin seemed to almost boil. The escaping blood from the wounds then made a horrific sizzling noise as the wyrm’s screams grew louder. The torrent came to a quick close however as the wyrm finally rose off his back and whipped his tail into the ebony she-dragon jaw. Taking the strike and drawing back, Gostir opened his eyes to then see the winding neck of Karessa winding around his side as he suddenly felt a great pressure on his tail. Roaring and striking out he suddenly felt something snap and a great spike of pain followed. Whimpering, the wyrm drew in his fire as Karessa devoured the ripped off half of Gostir’s tail. Unleashing a flood of fire and smoke, he blinded the two drakes. Hearing them draw in their breath used his forelegs to fling portions of his treasure into the she-dragons mouths and thus forced them to gag. Winding past the duo, great swaths of blood followed Gostir’s path as he passed the threshold of light surrounding the trio. Amisar looked at the stumbling drake as both of his back legs were grabbed by the jaws of two quickly recovered sisters. His scales around his belly and chest were frayed by fire as his previously green hide had turned red and pink with boils covering the center of the wounds. Dotting his neck were Karessa’s bites that bled down his throat and made the wyrm cough blood as it roared. Dear gods, he almost pitied the creature. Almost. Suddenly however their grip on the wyrm faltered as the two sisters were beset by a foul stench. Flinching back, the two she–dragons narrowly avoided the defecations of a panicking wyrm. Amisar looked on in disgust as the feral Gostir left behind a trail of himself in both gore and feces. The wyrm flailed its wings as it quickly ran towards the space left of Naqessa and Amisar. It had only one way of escaping left, Amisar thought, its wings remain unscathed. Hearing his thoughts, Naqessa responded accordingly. Barreling past the two of them and but a half a dozen meters away from the precipice, Gostir extended his wings to their fullest. Just as his membrane caught the wind however, thunder lit up the chamber as the jaws of Naqessa ripped off the largest piece she could fit. It wasn’t much but it was enough to make the wyrm falter and his injured back legs soon were caught on the edge of the cave. Gostir, rather than taking flight hurtled through the threshold and his frame, blanketed by thunder, tumbled down beyond sight. His screams echoed high throughout the mountain, they were bestial, afraid. Amisar held his breath as the screams continued until he felt a deep tremor in the earth. What followed were massive rockslides that flew past the cave entrance and down the mountain as several of the walls damaged in the battle cracked. Naqessa took quick action, calling to her sisters as they all gathered to cover their brother. And thus, the mountain wept. … Amisar was surrounded by darkness. The rumbling and muffled noise of rocks falling on stone and scales had stopped and left him hacking up the dust leftover from the collapse. As the dust settled around him, all that was left was the sound of his own breathing and the steady rise and fall of his sister's stomachs above him. “Sisters, are you alright?” The dragonlord asked in his native tongue, tinged in concern. Yes. Never better. Rocks heavy. The dragonlord’s gaze turned upward to the sound of shifting bodies and rocks. Naqessa tightened the makeshift chamber around him as further words and emotions jumbled his mind. Worry. Okay? Hurt? Amisar smiled at her concern. She knew the answer through our connection but the golden she-dragon was nothing if not protective and by the gods a worrywort, he thought. “I'm alright, dear. You did well, all of you did.” Amisar smiled as he felt the happiness course through him from their connection. Turning his gaze to his right as he saw movement in his periphery, he noticed the sudden appearance of a pair of eyes. Having such a long neck, Karessa had managed to wind her way inward, in between the sisters through a nock in Naqessa’s wings. Her snout pushed gently against him as he chuckled at the middle child’s need for affirmation. Amisar could picture the almost human-like smugness that had no doubt tinged Karessa’s jaws. She gently chuffed and a wave or air blew against Amisar. Impressed? “Alright alright! I get it!” Amisar chuckled as he pushed back against the she-dragon, although to her it was no doubt just a gentle nudge. Straightening his back, he dramatically cleared his throat and swung his arms out. “Your fire was akin to pale moonlight on Meraxes Lights. You danced with elegance! You danced with gracefulness I say! Akin to a Rhoynish waterbender!” He swung his arms in different directions as he spoke. As he finished, he slowly made his way up to the now purring she-dragon and traced her scales with his hand. Looking into her right eye, Amisar kissed her cheek and whispered to her. “You were beautiful, my little moonlight.” Love. The dragonlord hummed, feeling the word and the feelings of both Karessa and her sisters wash over him. It felt like nothing else in the world existed at that moment. He felt fulfilled. “I love you too, my sisters.” The four of them settled into a comfortable silence as Amisar rested his weight against Karessa. The cold caress of blood loss was all lost, in its place came the warmth of love made manifest. Amisar looked down upon his hand, the pain was gone. It meant one of two things he knew, he's either about to die or the magic of this place is so powerful that a wound would heal within minutes. The dragonlord hummed, his senses shared amongst his sisters as they too grew curious of where they were. Amisar thus turned his attention upward. “Drivessa, Karessa, display your indomitable strength. Free us from this tomb. We did not flee through a molten oblivion to die in this damp place. Rise, no mountain can hold your wings!” Karessa's head retreated and Naqessa's chamber grew tighter as Drivessa shifted her immense weight. Soon thereafter rockd shifted and Karessa joined her younger sister in dislodging the piles of rock above them. A couple of particularly large ones, no doubt four times the size of Amisar shook the earth as they rolled off the trio. If it weren't for Naqessa, I'd be dead right now, Amisar thought as he closed his eyes. He shivered a little at the thought of being crushed, the crunch of rock outside no doubt playing into his fear. It had dawned on him how close he had come to death, first in the caves, then to the wyrm and now to this. Calm. The feeling filled his mind, opening his eyes he saw that light had returned around him. The Inky blackness had been replaced by a smoky gray, clearer but dim. Yet even through the shroud he could see her, Naqessa. Two crystal blue eyes stared at him, into him. She slowly lowered Her head, gently caressing the dragonlord. Unlike Karessa’s previously playful nudging, this one was done with such precision that one could almost forget Naqessa could swallow a mammoth whole. We're here for you. The world stood still as the she-dragon manifested the words into the mind of the dragonlord. Amisar had never heard full sentences from her before. It had stunned him, he hadn't even registered that he instinctively had nuzzled back into her like used to as a child. Forevermore. “I was so scared-” Amisar whispered, the words falling out of his mouth. “When this place took away the connection I thought I had lost you, all of you.” His grip around her suddenly tightened as his warbled words hitched. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Hush, brother. Her words etched into his mind as he wept. To an outsider it would seem strange for a human to be grasping at a fully grown dragon whilst crying and speaking to himself, but for Amisar he heard every word and felt every thought. Eventually the two of them were joined by Karessa, and soon thereafter Drivessa. Both or the younger siblings leaning in to comfort their big brother. We'll never leave you again. The words were threefold as all three of the she-dragons spoke as one. And thus Amisar knew he would never lose them again. He promised himself there that he would never let that happen, by Arrax's will. Sniffing and drying his tears, he rose to stand on his own as he lifted himself off of Naqessa. Amisar then looked around himself and noticed that all eyes were on him as his sisters had all surrounded him and pushed themselves gently up against him. “Sorry-” He began, his voice slightly hoarse as he sniffed. “Your big brother is a bit of a softy It seems.” He chuckled to himself as the three sisters almost seemed to mentally roll their eyes at him. Nonetheless the she-dragons chuffed softly as they leaned into him before rising to stand. As they rose, Amisar looked around himself, the cave was mostly intact, apart from a layer of rock that had covered almost everything. Strangely enough the hoard had remained mostly unharmed Amisar thought to himself. likely due to the increased integrity of the area the wyrm had for his magpie-like addiction. “The wyrm can understand physics but not the sense to flee before three Valyrian she dragons.” Amisar said aloud as he frowned at the notion. “The fool.” Walking gently over the fallen rocks, most of which were thankfully just pebbles, Amisar made his way toward the hoard. A Lot of it had been flung out and now lies buried beneath the rock and dust caused by the wyrm’s fall. To think that beneath his feet lie a horde that could buy him a dragonkeep three times over, he thought. “Although I suppose it doesn't hold a finger the riches now buried beneath the ash and sea of Valyria.” Amisar muttered to himself before shuddering. “Or the bodies…” Walking along the edge of the hoard, the dragonlord finally found what he was looking for. He bent down and in his left hand was a crown of weirwood, in his right a valyrian steel staff. Although at this point it might have switched roles from walking stick to polestaff, Amisar thought to himself. Placing the crown on his head, the dragonlord took some time to get it just in the right place before putting both hands on his staff. Having felt out its center of gravity, he gave it a few practice swings as he bent his knees and moved with fluid motions. Imagining a human before him he struck at their legs, joints, and finally a thrusting strike toward the head. Laughing, Amisar threw the staff up in the air before catching it with one hand. His three sisters watched on with amusement as the valyrian turned to them and walked over to them. “Whether we're in the far reaches of Sothoryos, Ulthos or across the sunset sea, this place is full of magic!” Amisar spoke excitedly before looking up at them. “You feel it too? Don't you?” Refreshing. Rejuvenated. Excited! Their voices wove their way into his mind, each spoken with mirth as the she-dragons restrained their tails from whipping into the walls with excitement. Amisar smiled at the sight and feeling of both his own and his sisters newfound vigor. Looking out over the darken skies outside, breathed in a deep sigh. “Even the air feels…” He trailed off as words escaped him. Otherworldly? He looked up at Naqessa as she stared outside as suddenly thunder lit up the canopy stretching beneath them. “Yes sister, otherworldly.”
