Author's note: I'm sure you all have noticed that I made the Valyrians fireproof to an extent, but beware, they can still die like other humans. YouTube leaves me more confused by the day, so I do apologize that everything is all over the place. Anywho, I do hope you enjoy it because I'm still obsessed and still stuck on book one.
"The animals were restless in their stalls, whickering and snorting at the scent of blood in the air". Still fresh from the night before.
Nothing has changed. The land they inhabited below was still desolate. They flocked together like sheep, telling stories of old wives' tales derived from the west to pass the time as the sun shone meekly through the trees.
"They're is an old saying in Valyria which the elders believe", someone was saying. "A fire only comes when there's a storm". The storm has yet to reach our shores, Vhaera thought; there might be some truth to it. Wondering even more if this is the reason the old Gods have punished them... Her mind lay deep in question. Pondering, wondering, what treasures lie beyond Westeros. "You speak of things we have not seen. Why not tell us a tale of the fire wyrms or the children of the forest who are said to roam near the bone mountains?"
"It's not a story you desire, child, but Essos' rich history, the wise elder exclaimed, raising a brow for confirmation. Her wrinkles protruded through her forehead as Vhaera nodded. The elder woman began her story, enchanting with the knowledge of old. As you know, our home, the Valyrian Peninsula, is located in the southwestern part of Essos, and the peninsula leads into the Summer Sea. North of here are the Painted Mountains, and to the east is the Gulf of Grief and slaver's Bay.
"To the east lies our problem as they pray to that useless harpy that stands above so many but saves none". "All we have are stories to live up to our names; no one knows what's true", Vhaera spoke again.
"The people in the east have shed our blood and we have done nothing. What great miracle/ prophecy are we to inherit if we can no longer plough the fields?".
"If you wish to wage war on your enemies, heed my advice. "The ghicari ruler is a young man with an old man's ambition and has never lacked for cunning nor caution. Their apprehensions grew masked behind a face kept still and stern. They have all seen what honesty and honor win you, so they understand the elder's meaning. Their eyes grew wider as they listened on. No sword is strong until it's been tempered. You want cold cunning, I should think, not courage. The old woman crooned That's how a war is won. Just as laughter is poison to fear and fear poisons the mind".
"How will caution shake my dreams. When I sleep in the dead of night, I hold a black-and-scarlet egg, cradling the egg with both hands, carrying it to the fire, and pushing it down amongst the burning coals. The black scales seemed to glow as they drank the heat. As you've told us, a dragon was air and fire, living flesh, not dead stone. A name deprived from old that has not been seen. When I picture its name upon my lips, I think of this. Yet it does nothing to answer my questions, "How can one win a war with so little history?"
"Doubt and confusion are the reasons war is fought. As for your questions, they may be right in front of you, child". The elder woman said no more as supper was brought forth. She dined in the woman's company as she would her mother. Her sweet mother went in search of her brother, a boy of three named days old, claims to have found a fire wyrm nest past the bushes towards the high cliffs of the mountain in a cave of bones and blood.
Supper was no longer grand as the time for mourning continued. They were unable to wear any clothes, for there were no animals to hunt, only crumpled up and badly woven leaves hid their nakedness. On chill nights, they huddled together for warmth as the animals snickered at every sound. Their nerves grew worse when they sensed fire wyrms or wyverns in the sky. Mating season approached, and the time to rebuild was slow. No one wished to descend down the mountains; the children would cry and fret, fearful of the screaming rocks hurling down towards them. They felt safe here, but are still unsure for how long.
No one could spot them nor reach them from here. Vhaera tried to stay idle as she waited for her mother, hunger no longer taking root. So she decided to pray asking for guidance, they answered, open your ears, listen, you'll hear, is what the old wives spoke of when the gods answer for the wind always blows west.
"Vhaera, her mother called, huffing in distress. I found the little troublemaker. Took me all evening, but alas, he is safe. He's gotten a new pet, a baby fire wyrm a tiny little thing kicked out of it's litter. Your brother tried saving it with his blood. I gave him a good whooping for cutting himself to protect his pet, which is why I called you over. See to it that your brother and his pet are taken care of. While I go fetch us dinner. I take it you've eaten well enough".
Vhaera replied in kind. "Good enough for me", her mother said as she now had less to do. As her mother strutted into camp. She saw her little brother not too far behind, and in his hands he held his pet. The creature looked as if it were made out of gold, its eyes a light silver that turned to gold in the sunlight. Such hard scales it had, Vhaera took note of the way its body shimmered; even with all its beauty, it was still dangerously ill.
"For the things we love destroy us every time", she told her brother, who in turn gave her a confused look. An idea popped into Vhaera's mind as she cleaned her brother's wounded hands. Mere scratches, yet he cried all the same. "If you keep still, I will heal your little pet". Her brother looked at her, a promise she swore, as her brother clutched their pinkies together. Mother returned shortly after with her brother's supper.
Vhaera removed the creature from her brother's shoulder as he trotted towards the other children, inquiring about their day. Food in hand with a joyful laugh in tow. "It has been so long since I've heard his laughter, mother. It has been hard on all of us. I can't bear the thought of another loss".
"Vengeance is what we all seek, with no armies, how can we fight the ghiscari?"
"An army of tenfold with weapons that outway our own". "But they gladly use our pitchforks to plough their fields, do they not?" her mother chuckled, giving her comfort as she ate. She had good reason to be angry if they're supplies weren't taken, maybe the gods wouldn't have forsaken them. They would be in their homes, safe and content. No need for leaves upon their skin that scratch and burn if not attended to. The animals they do have are only goats that chew on the very fabrics upon their backs. Food is scarce once more. If only she could travel like her father, maybe the children of the forest would hear their plea.
"Mother, do you still have Father's flask with you?" "It was the only thing I bought with us, her mother replied. It's in the hold fast, one of the men built to store our belongings, and whatever you plan to do, don't make trouble. "That's all my brother's doing she shouted back."
It was a short walk. She tumbled through their belongings, maybe three or more times, before spotting the rusty old silver flask. Vhaera opened it, taking a swift jug of its contents. It reeked so badly but tasted so sweetly. The pet upon her shoulder seemed to agree in its need rose weakly to taste its mead growing quickly in strength. No matter how much it drank, the flask never emptied. Another blessing from her late father. The man who lived with worms.
Vhaera released the creature once nightfall approached. Her brother wailed for his pet as she reprimanded him for his behavior. A firewyrm was no pet, she told him. It needs heat, and we have very little of it, drink from father's flask, and be merry, she notioned for his understanding.
Days settled into months, and no one could tell the difference as the sun shone for many moons. It was now bearable to look up at the moon, no longer fearing... during these days, her brother sought out his pet. Vhaera knew better, even if the guilt panged at her heart. Before the pillage of their home, strangers, merchants by trade, requested their blessings. A lie in disguise, dressed in luxury and sweet perfume. Those who escaped from their clutches went to the fourteen flames. Their screams could be heard from miles; even with their capabilities, they could still be harmed. She knew that, despite the guilt.
With their numbers so low and not a penny to any of their names, they could not venture from Valyria. The yield they produced was shared with the pirates, who in turn protected them from other pillagers. With the Ghiscari Empire in the east, little trouble reaches them, for they are surrounded by islands. One in particular called Sothoryos. It harbors many, wyverns included, ugly, scaly, four-legged creatures who prey on their animals at night.
Her brother's cries became quiet. When she looked around, she found her brother tackled to the ground. Upon further inspection, she saw her brother's pet lying on his chest. Her brother quickly grew defensive. "You win, brother. Keep it". The boy was delighted by his victory even more so when he realized his pet was no longer injuried.