"Come morning, she'd woken red-eyed and dry and could not have shed another tear if her life had hung on it".
They had stayed up many nights listening to the elder wives' stories, fearing and praying for what was to come. Her brother lingered nearby, but it seems he did not sleep much. Everyone feared for the children's lives, for they cannot survive in Asshai. Being a child of zero and six herself, she shared their fears and hesitation.
"The captain shouted above deck, informing them that they would reach the ports by sundown". She then rose from her share of the floorboard to go to her brother, her eye still stinging from time to time. He barely looked at her now; it seems the vertical claw mark on her eye reminds him of their mother's loss. It pained her at his resistance, for she desperately wanted to comfort him.
"Brother", she called softly as their mother would have when she wanted to tell them something important. He heard her approaching footsteps but did not look at her, he only remained headfast, headforward, towards the seas. She sighed, trying to find the courage to speak. "I know that you are worried, and so am I". "I wish to be here for you, brother. You may not have met our father, but he loved you all the same. We are orphans, and it pains me so. Mother has left me to take care of you, and I will try the best way I know how. The last time my mother and I spoke, it was about my worries. So I ask, brother, "What is troubling you to make you so distant?".
No sound was made between them, only the sound of crashing waves. Her ears still ring when a screeching sound is made from the sky. Her head pounds when it happens, and her eye feels as though it was bleeding again. "Sister", I miss her. "The day we found you in the field with mother, I thought I lost you both. I know how much father's flask meant to you, so I went in search of it". Her brother gave her the flask, hand stretched out and pleading. She chose to hug her brother instead of taking the flask. His pet firewrym removed itself from his shoulders as it slithered down towards the flask. Their hug was interrupted as the ship rocked to the side. Her brother almost fell over. She clasped him tighter as he cried. "I'm here, brother". She repeated. "I'm here".
"Will we die also?" he asked her. "I don't know, brother, but with this flask, I'm sure we will survive". It's true that in the past, the blood in the flask has helped them. Those that were sick hardly ever looked so bedridden after drinking the blood. They all say with each sip their blood sings, so she openly hopes it will remain the same in the shadow lands. "We will survive. We have always survived", she told him as his pet hissed softly. "Remember, we are... she was interrupted again as the bell rang. Breakfast is being served. She released her brother as she wiped his tears and kissed his forehead gently. They parted slightly as they headed to the messdeck/ lounge.
Where the others sat quietly, all still feeling their dilemma at the forefront of their minds. They sat near the last remaining survivors of Ghis. Their stories are still untold. The boy who clung to his mother's side showed no fear towards them, but if asked to do something, he would always bow as though they were the lords. It has taken many reminders for that little habit to cease. "We are no lords, just simple sheepherders, they would tell him. True enough, she taught herself, but in the back of her mind, she wanted more. The mother of the boy felt at peace during the day, but when sleep takes her, she's reminded of them.
As for the prophet, he tells them that they will survive. His dreams are more potent than most; they dream of the dangers and future events, nothing of the actual wars they will be fighting. Sometimes it seems the prophet is hiding something that he has seen, but the thing about dreams is not all of them give you what you desire. They mean many things, yet it did not warn them of the wyverns but of a future that seems bleak and uncertain as the day draws near. As for the younger girl, she seemed to have it worse than the others. The women of the village believe she has been touched. She shies away anytime a man comes near. She hardly speaks and chooses to stay close to the elderly woman. Vhaera has not given them her condolensces for she knows it wont change the past.
Before, she didn't even know they existed until they came onto the ship. Then again, the silence remained as they chewed and swallowed in shallow breaths, clinging to their family members every time the ship moved too dangerously. As for the velayrons, they felt at home in the sea; they adapted much quicker than they did. The stories from the crewmates made their blood sing. It was decided then that once the ship took to port, they would remain to sail across the summer sea. Their dreams demanded it, and their blood would sing every time they breathed the salty air.
It was decided that they would return after four years to take them back to what remains of their home. By then, the mating season would come again, and this time they would be ready.
Vhaera believed she was gonna have to trade her brother's pet for information. He trusted her and understood that the firewrym was their ticket for survival. Whoever buys into their lie will die, and that type of power is what they'll learn to use... for they have learned nothing is free, and if you wish to be saved, you must do it yourself.
In the blink of an eye, it was sundown already, and her brother had finally fallen asleep peacefully on her lap. She stroked his head softly as she hummed. The light from the sun dimmed the closer they reached the port; dark clouds and stones sucked the daylight out of everything. Even the lit torches grew dimmer if they were not fed oil. She let her brother sleep; the air around them was thick and toxic. It made her blood sing as she inhaled the fumes.
She finally understood the power they desired, for more is what captivated her people to Asshai, with no rules set in place she and her people must be careful for their are terrible people who lurk these giant gates. The water soon turned black, the fish looked unhealthy and unreal, that it reminded her of the unsullied and their masters. It consumed her the busy streets and gold that lingered around them. Ships far greater than they were made the world seem bigger.
Languages they had never heard before caught her attention left and right. And soon she got an idea. What if they made another language, one that no one can understand but them? So she stops humming and asks the captain, "What are they saying?"
"I don't know", he answered, and she smiled once they found a spot to land. The negotiations began, and her people departed, waving the velaryons goodbye. Leaving them behind the balck ash river, she held her brother close as he slept on her shoulder. They were fresh meat and it showed for no longer than two minutes, did they're wondering ceased when a stranger came towards them.
"My name is Tar", she told the stranger. He responded by saying, "And my name is Cattle".
"My people are in need of your assistance if you'd be so kind". The man known as Cattle crouched down to her eye level as they struck a deal.
He nodded as he led them to an inn deeper in town. The buildings were narrow and too big for her liking. It lacked the open space a field could give you, something she didn't even know she had missed, for it never crossed her mind when she worked in the fields. There wasn't anyone inside or outside, for that matter. It seemed too easy, like a lamb waiting for slaughter. They sat down and listened to his constant prattling. Cattle told them he was a bloodmage, it slipped from his lips so easily, like he was meant to tell them, almost like his pure hatred for the fire mages it seemed.
Her people stood behind her as they felt an uneasy presence of someone watching them. She laughed it off, only to get rid of the edgy feeling; her brother still slept calmly on her shoulder as she complimented his home.
"I will teach you our ways", he said.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"I'm told that a student can kill their masters", I said it with fear, and my people shuddered exactly at the right time, proving my point.
He was convinced, and I was going to use him well enough just like they used us. His smile proved to her all the more the reason that what she was doing was right.
Pretending to be docile and weak always gets the attention of those in power.
For not all who crawl on all fours need a savior; just pure cold-hearted vengeance is enough.