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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,539Kudos:6,021Bookmarks:1,661Hits:467,442
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 55: PROTECTOR OF THE SMALL
Chapter Text
Life as one of the villages scattered across Essos was harsh.
Neseya was well used to it. Born and raised in a large village far south of the Worm river and beneath the mountains at Astapor's back, her people were no strangers to the lingering danger of Dothraki hordes and slave hunting parties. Most Dothraki left them be, more interested in trading their slaves for fresh ones or supplies when the horselords passed through to Ghiscar to trade before they headed back north to the Great Grass Sea. But they were known to raid and slaughter, even if uncommon compared to the slavers.
Her village had been formed generations by some brave- or foolish, depending on who was asked, -group crossed through the Khyzai pass and then headed southward. Not tied to any of the slaver cities but their village did not turn down any traders heading to and fro even if slaves themselves were not products needed. The people of the village were just as varied, many claiming blood of all manner of Essosi land; Neseya had the blood of Ghiscar and Lys within her, while the likes of Aheshi was of diluted Dothraki stock with her copper-coloured skin.
Their village was an active one, with terraced farms of grain, barley and wheat and paddocks of sheep and scattered cattle. Their housing were encased within white stucco walls, with the largest building being the town hall in the center. Next was the temple, where the wisewoman and her helpers lived. The houses within the walls were of wood and thatch, some with small gardens and pens of chickens, ducks and white feathered geese. The only stone structure was the temple, with the hall made of tree trunks thicker than a human's torso. At the village's back was the low humped mountain range, the freshwater springs easily found within the ancient rocks and the reason Neseya's ancestors chose to settle.
However there was the downside of the great fogs which came rolling down into their valley quite consistently, cloaking everything in white to the point she could nary see several feet before her. With the air cooling, it was common for there to be multiple days a month where it was thick and white the moment she opened her door.
The attack that came was not from horselords or slavers, but rather from a raider group. A bastard force of sellswords, masters and their slaves, scattered to the winds from the failed siege of Meereen. Sprawling every which-way. Banded together and raiding any and all they could. Scavengers, vicious and vile and picking at any wounds they could find. Locusts, heading past the Worm river and back down towards New Ghis to lick their wounds.
Neseya and two others had been at one of the sheep paddocks, slowing digging out a rotten fence pole to replace it with a fresh one. It was a task that left them dirited and sweaty, hands wrapped in cloth to keep the blisters at bay as Neseya and Jororno tugged at the knotted rope while Aheshi dug at the pole with a spade. Then all three froze at the shrill peal of a horn off in the distance but still easily heard. One of the sentries, then. One blast then two, then no more.
One for traders, two for raiders.
The three all stared at each other, before instantly dropping their task, turning and running down the grassy slope towards the village. The fog was thick, the mist making Neseya's pale braid frizzle, but the well known paths led them true and quickly the noise of fighting and dying began to climb the hills towards them.
"My sisters-" Jororno began, face white with panic.
"Get them, quickly!" Aheshi shouted. "We don't know how many raiders there are, try to get to the great hall once you've fetched them! Go!"
Neseya was running, her leather boots worn but still reliable as her skirts swirled around her. Jororno turning down one of the splitting paths towards the cattle paddock, even as Neseya and Aheshi continued downwards towards the distant silhouette of the village walls. Nearly engulfed in the dense fog.
Several more moments of running, all but blind in the thick fog, and the two approached the wall, following the curve of the pale stucco towards the great gates. Neseya could hear screaming and shouting, the distant bloody whack of a steel meeting flesh, the snorts and shrieks of horses.
She froze briefly upon seeing Taena, an old seamstress with deft hands who would always help mend cloth as long as someone brought her any type of fruit as payment. Slumped against the stucco wall surrounding the houses, a partially stitched tunic still clutched in her withered hands. Her chest ripped open, a wound from an axe or sword Neseya did not know, but it stained Taena's white dress red with more blood splattered across her wrinkled face. Eyes sightless and staring up at the fog choked sky. Then Aheshi's nails bit into her arm and Neseya went back to running. She passed more dead villagers with the ground beneath her feet growing sodden with blood as she ran into the village itself, the gates cracked open to spill the raiders within like a flood of death. Neseya slipped through the gates, a great riot going on within the village.
The two parted ways then; Aheshi sprinting off close to the wall side as she went for her home while Neseya headed inwards.
A house nearby was in flames, making Neseya choke on blackened smoke as she ran for her father and brother, their house being near the center of the village. Panicked people were running every whichaway, emerging from the fog like ghosts and making her flinch each time. Mothers sprinting with their children, pulling their sobbing daughters and sons along in iron grips. Others were fighting but the raiders were everywhere and lashing out with bloodied weapons; a horse came bursting out of the fog before her and Neseya barely had time to leap aside, sprawling across the mud and dirtying her blue dress, but the raider swung an axe and caught a young boy across the face as he tried to run between buildings.
Neseya scrambled back up, mud clinging to her hands and dress as the raider wheeled his horse back around towards her. But before he could kick his steed forward, an arrow flew from the fog and caught the raider in the throat; gargling, he fell from his horse who whinnied and kicked and Neseya did not waste time trying to hear a dying man's breaths. Instead she gathered up her skirts and continued to run.
Another house was on fire but Neseya ignored it as she ran, ducking into a woodpile as a raider came past. The man's face covered in a thick beard crusted with blood, an ugly bastard sword in his hands. His armour was a dark grey, filthy and tarnished. She pressed herself close to the woodpile, teeth bared and nails ripping at bark as her breath came in pants. Then a rider emerged from the fog, cantering down the narrow street between the houses. Gyllo, only a few years older than Neseya's brother and barely able to hold onto the axe.
Neseya watched, horrified, as the man swept his sword and cut off Gyllo's hand as the boy tried to strike him and knocked him from his horse. She barely had time to push herself up from the woodpile, to run into the street when the man brought his sword down on Gyllo's face and suddenly it resembled the cut meat in the butcher's shop. She screamed.
The man spun towards her, his eyes dark and dead and Neseya stumbled backwards. She ran, but he caught her only a few houses down. His hands grabbing her braid, her collar, and throwing her onto the dirt hard enough the wind was knocked from her as she lay sprawled on her back. Next to the doorway of the house she had fallen in front of her she could see Kestle, the girl no older than seven namedays. Through the broken doorway, slumped on the floor like a discarded doll. Her mother was in the house as well, missing her entire head and leaving only a jagged stump behind. The walls were stained in red, like thrown dye.
Then the man's hands grabbing at her throat, another groping at her skirt. Neseya screamed, clawing at the man's arms, her teeth snapping at his throat like wild beast until he backhanded her so hard across the face she nearly blacked out.
There was blood in the mud, even as the wind began to shift and swell of an encroaching storm the fog remained heavy. If anything it thickened further like seafood stew, a part of Neseya's instincts telling her it was going to rain. Her ears were ringing, vision blurring at the edges.
Hands grabbing at her skirts, pawing at her bodice. She could hear the distant crackle of fire, the cries of frightened children but all she could think about was how the man's eyes were like shards of obsidian and wanted nothing more than for her fingers to gouge them out.
Then a hammer slammed into the man's skull; not splitting it, but instead leaving a dent the size of a bread roll. The raider let out a gargled wet noise, eyes rolling back into his head as his hands loosened upon her, before another heavy thunk of the hammer and he went sprawling off Neseya and breathed no more.
It took Neseya a frozen moment before she recognized the woman before her; Zhasa, the blacksmith's wife, and wielding her deceased husband's forging hammer in one hand. The portly woman hastily yanked Neseya up to her feet.
"My father-"
"Already in the hall," Zhasa said, tugging at Neseya's mud-splattered arm, "Come, quickly! There are more raiders coming."
Neseya felt better with Zhasa at her side; the woman was tall and broad shouldered, having taking over her husband's smithy after his death at a spring fever last year and having the arms to show it. Her hammer was bloodstained, leather apron just as red. But still, they passed more bodies as they ran towards the village hall. Some slumped or sprawled, children and adults. All people Neseya knew, some she was even speaking to only days before or even the previous morn, but now bloodied and strewn about like distasteful waste.
There was more fighting and dying and panicking further in the village, Neseya loosing her grip on Zhasa as they headed towards the hall. Towering over everything in the fog, smoke coiling in the air as Neseya dodged a man covered in blood. Zhasa took her hammer to him and he fell in a sprawling heap. Screams and shouts rose as Neseya ran across the muddied street, seeing the looming form of the hall where the villagers would be congregating. She lurched as another raider burst out of a narrow alleyway, his sword lashing out at her. It screeched against the stone wall of the house she cowered against.
High above a peal of thunder that near shook the ground, followed by a flash of gold. And the unmistakable sound of rain. Scant at first, but then rapidly turning into a downpour that soaked through her dress and soaked her hair.
Zhasa swung her hammer, teeth bared in a snarl, but the raider lashed out and sliced a sharp cut across her breast. The woman let out a sharp cry of pain, stumbling in the mud but didn't drop her hammer. Neseya's hands ripped at the ground, hurling the first thing she grabbed at the man; the firewood hit him in the shoulder, skidded off his iron armour without even making a dent or scratch, but it drew his attention. Neseya grabbed another piece of wood from the stack propped against the house. In the distance she could hear screams, thuds and the thunder.
With a grunt Zhasa clutched her hammer in both hands, with Neseya armed with the firewood.
Then the sky went black, the rain above ceasing for a heartbeat.
All three looked up and for a brief instant Neseya could have sworn there was something in the sky just above them, so massive it had blotted out the sun and rain. That had sent the fog twisting and coiling like smoke.
Zhasa recovered first, her hammer smashing into the bandit's face and causing a spray of blood and teeth to splatter the air. The man fell backwards, Zhasa striking at his face several more times as Neseya shuffled forward with her piece of wood clutched defensively. Blood and rain splashed as Zhasa beat the man's face until it resembled nothing more than a twisted red slab of meat. Zhasa's hands were shaking as she finally stopped, Neseya's grip on the wood so tight her knuckles were white.
"Your chest-" Neseya began.
"It's fine," Zhasa gave her a shaky smile, blood oozing down to soak her dress and slip down her apron, "It's barely a scrape. Not even to the bone or muscle. We should go to-"
A massive boom of thunder made the ground shake, both women stumbling. Neseya fell against the wall of the house, even as lightning forked through the air above. All the hairs on her arms were standing on end. Screams were sounding, still audible through the churning storm above. For a moment she thought it was the earth moving beneath her feet, a quake that could rend cracks in the ground and split hills as her father's tales would tell.
But then there was a sharp chattering off in the distance, something odd and foreign and unlike any birdsong she had ever heard. Both Zhasa and Neseya looked in the direction of the call, towards the south of the village. Then another shrill chatter, almost like the calling of a bird. But too high, too warbling, too strange, and accompanied by a peal of thunder and several brilliant lances of lightning that lit up the fog. One stuck a nearby house, exploding part of the wall in sharp scatters of stone that made Neseya flinch.
"What was that?" fear made her voice shrill, fingers trembling around the wood. The fog swirled, darkened from the storm until it seemed nearly night.
"It doesn't matter, go!" Zhasa shoved at her shoulder and, stumbling, Neseya took off on swift feet with the bleeding smith close at her side.
The chittering and screeches continued to ring through the village, something primal and terrifying that made Neseya's breath shaky. The rain and fog was blinding, Neseya barely able to see a foot before her. Only long memory let her know she was heading in the right direction.
There was a distant clap of air and more lightning rained down upon the village amidst screams of both men and horse. Neseya ignored it as she burst past a blazing house and into the great beaten-earth courtyard in the heart of the village. Towering over it upon a small knoll, cloaked in shadow and silhouette barely visible, was the great town hall.
A figure burst out of the fog, startling Neseya as she clutched her piece of wood. But she recognized the stout figure, Loshige with her two sisters in tow, and she sped up the stone stairs to vanish into the hall. Neseya and Zhasa followed, rain still pelting down upon them while the fog churned and twisted like a living thing all around them. The chittering had moved on, further down the village towards the gates, but when Neseya glanced backwards as she climbed the stairs, she could near see an immense and terrible shadow far through the fog. Something long and twisting like a sea serpent of stories, before a great crack of lightning struck down into the courtyard and temporally blinded her.
Zhasa seized the ragged sleeve of her dress, hauling Neseya the rest of the way and through the yawning mouth of the hall.
Several archers were already there, a protective bristle pointed at the door as Neseya stumbled past them with Zhasa wheezing by her side. Only a handful of their warriors, they had never been a fighting village, and many had been down below when the raid happened. Neyla, one of the milkmaids, dragging her further into the hall even as Zhasa was hauled off towards the wisewoman and her wards for her wounds. Neyla's pale hair was frazzled, splatters of blood clinging to her face and neck. Her dress tattered and torn, but her hands were steady as the woman quickly ushered Neseya past other frightened groups and into her father's waiting arms.
"Neseya!" her father's hands were shaking, his sightless eyes wide as he grabbed at her. Crooked hands running over her shoulders, her face, as if to reassure himself she truly were there.
"I'm fine," Neseya wheezed, her body shaking. It was if her mind was refusing to let her think about what was happening in the village while she had been running through it. Her little brother was tucked against them both, an ugly gash running down one cheek and grazing his temple which she looked over worriedly. A barely dodged strike, that would have rent his face asunder otherwise.
Neseya drew away from her father's hug, checking him over even when she could still hear distant screams. Inside the hall there were several tending to the hurts of others, slapping on poultices and stitching wounds. Jaelar was tense and quiet, but her brother was being strong despite his fear, she knew. His injury was only skin deep, there was no need for him to demanding healing while others were bleeding freely. Even tucked away Neseya could see Zhasa through the throng, the cut skin of her chest being sewn back together with black thread and a glinting needle.
Outside the rain continued to pour, lightning forking through the sky. Through the doorway, Neseya could see the gleam of determined fires upon a few houses but most had already been extinguished in the great sweep of rain. Then again it appeared, a brief flicker of darkness, the shadow of some monster within the fog when lightning lit up the land. And perhaps her frightened mind even swore there were glints of red in the monster's eyes far beyond, like that of a demon.
Panicked voices rose and fell around her, but Neseya kept herself tense and quiet. It was only when her brother shifted uneasily against her did she look to him, wondering.
"Did you see it?" Neseya whispered to her brother.
Jaelar blinked at her, pale blue eyes briefly disappearing behind lids, "What did I see? The raiders?"
"No, the giant monster out in the fog. A demon, mayhaps."
"There's a monster?"
"Aye, with three heads."
"Maybe it's from Tyrosh, they have a temple for it don't they?"
Neseya wasn't sure if the thing she had briefly seen was the Three-Headed Trios but she doubted it would bode well for a god to suddenly appear in the sky. Perhaps it was there to eat them all, so they would all be lost in the fog. She didn't know what would be worse, raped and killed by scavenging raiders or having the wrath of a god brought down upon them. At least with one Neseya believed she wouldn't be damned in the afterlife.
Nearly a dozen more villagers managed to make it into the hall before the dark silhouettes raiders began to stream across the courtyard below, emerging from the fog. Either ignorant or wild of the monster out within the village, which Neseya could still distantly hear chittering like a bird.
"Shut the door!" someone shouted as one of the bandits down below took aim with a crossbow. Those closest obeyed, and the village was lost from view as the heady doors slammed shut. There was a dull thonk from outside. A steel bar was lowered, wedging the door shut.
"Will they get in?" Neseya heard someone whisper.
She didn't know; since the collapse of the Slaver Alliance roving bands of bandits had spread across the land. They never had attacked the village in force before. Neseya believed the fog was their signal, taking advantage of the curtain of white which rolled down from the mountains. Usually they would bar the gates whenever they spotted a roving band of raiders, occasionally shooting at them from the village walls, but never had they been in such numbers. Neseya guessed more of them grouped together, like stray starving dogs, with the intention of bringing down bigger prey. After all, their village had found a profound lack in trading ever since the failed siege of Meereen. Only small wagons and caravans would pass through, but nothing from the likes of New Ghis or Astapor. It was strangely silent, in all directions.
The rain above sounded like drums, the very hall seeming to shake with each boom of thunder. Her muddied fingers remained tight around her father's arm. Jaelar was eyeing the shut door. Her father blind and her brother barely eight namedays. She did not know if she could kill a bandit with some firewood but she would nonetheless try. Though a part of her ached, with those left to fend for themselves left in the village.
There was the distant sound of steel striking the door, but the wood of it was nearly as thick as a man's waist. It would be no easy thing to kick down but it seemed the raiders were determined to try. As the invaders hacked, Neseya could hear the crass taunting and threats; promises of ripping out their organs, of raping and enslaving them. Neseya's dark eyes narrowed, one hand still holding onto her father and the other the block of firewood.
And there was still that great thing in the fog Neseya had seen. With the serpent necks and ruby eyes. Or had she? Perhaps she had been so close to death her mind made her saw things in the fog, the storm, a specter to herald the death coming for them, as even now there was an odd distant ringing at her ears and her skin was still slick and sweaty despite the rain which had soaked her through.
Outside the hacking and hammering against the door persisted, the archers and few warriors at the door tense and ready while crowd behind them were only tense. Her father muttered a prayer under his breath, gnarled hands digging at her and Jaelar's shoulders. Blind, her father would be useless in a fight. But Neseya had her wood and Jaelar was gripping a bone knitting needle in one fist. Probably borrowed from one of the women in the hall with them.
A sharp bang from the door had her flinch, a few stifled shrieks and noises of alarm flaring around the hall. Neseya could only hope the bandits would grow bored trying to break the door down, something urged on by the storm engulfing the village. That after enough effort in sodden armour they would give up and leave-
Then a shrill chatter directly overhead, almost like the calling of a bird. But too high, too warbling, too strange, and accompanied by a peal of thunder that shook the hall and made all the hairs on Neseya's nape go on end. But it was enough to silence everyone inside the hall, and the sound of axes hacking at the thick wooden doors stopped as a great shudder made everyone sway. As if an immense weight had come crashing down like an avalanche. The lit torches on the walls creaked, shadows and light flickering. Then there were screams right outside the door, the sound of the pounding rain mixing with hideous wet tearing noises. Screams of terror and death, a great rumbling snarl and snorts, a splatting and iron falling to the ground.
A tense silence, before a consistent, rhythmic shaking from outside. Like the steady, repetitious peal of great drums, loud enough to rumble air like the thunder.
Footsteps, Neseya thought, gripping her father's tunic tight.
The footsteps of a giant, as if the fabled Jhogwin were walking upon Essosi soil again. Reverberating through her bones until she knew the giant beyond was walking in the courtyard just before the hall. That it had attacked and killed the raiders trying to break into the building. Why? Was it after them? They were trapped in a box like a nesting chicken for a hungry snake.
There was another bright flash of lightning, the thunder roaring so quickly afterwards Neseya felt her bones reverberate with it. Directly outside the hall and so vivid it seemed to flare through the building itself. There were distant screams that ceased just as the light faded. Inside the hall people shrieked and gasped, clutching at each other in confusion and fear.
The footsteps returned even louder and Neseya knew whatever it was was right outside the door. Her father's quiet prayers seemed like whispers in the dark, even as there was a strange rattling noise outside and a dull thud.. A deep shift of air, like a draft, even as the rain continued high above. The distant crack of lightning.
Then they all heard it.
A knock at the door.
Brisk and firm, three raps upon the wood before silence. When none answered within the hall and kept silent, beyond the faint frightened panting and confused murmurs, the knocks rang out again.
But this time it was followed by a voice, saying something none of them could understand. Calm and sweet yet commanding all the same even if she knew not what the words spoken were. Neseya gave a confused look to Jaelar who shrugged. There were a few murmurs inside the hall and shuffling but still no one responded.
"The raiders have been dealt with," a muffled voice said beyond, when the knocks ceased again. Now speaking a dialect of Bastard Valyrian commonly used across Essos and understood by near all in the great hall.
One of the elders of the village, a woman with skin like crinkled tree bark and fine woolen dress muddied, nudged her way through the crowd before she was just at the barred door. Around her their handful of warriors were tense, especially since now they could hear the strange deep breathing beyond. As if something was panting right above the hall itself, belonging to whatever giant had been walking before. That had been the one to kill the raiders trying to hack through the door.
The elder, Joselyn, took a deep breath then spoke in a raspy yet firm voice, "And who is speaking? And what business have you here?"
"Queen Daenerys Stormborn, ruler of Meereen. I was passing overhead, coming north from New Ghis, when I witnessed the attack upon your village and intervened. I have rid you of the raiders out in the open, but do not know if any else are hiding within your houses inside these walls."
Silence following that declaration. Above, the rain continued to pound down upon the roof of the hall.
"The dragon queen?" came a baffled voice near the back of the mob. "I thought she and her beast died during the siege."
"You idiot, that is not what happened. She sent the Harpy running she did, we all knows that," another piped up.
"It isn't true. It's just a trick, they want us to open the door-"
"How could you trick that noise? Her dragon must have been it."
"They want us to open the door, to kill us-"
A sharp clap of hands from Joselyn and silence fell, even if Neseya could understand the confusion. They had certainly heard of Daenerys Targaryen, the dragon queen who torn a great bloody swathe through the slaver cities. Ripping off the wings of the Harpy and sending the likes of New Ghis into a frenzy, upon the back of a great golden dragon. But the stories had still been distant things, not something waiting right outside the door.
"How can we be sure of this? That is not some trickery for us to open the doors of our sanctuary?" Joselyn asked.
"I have my dragon, Ghidorah, with me," came the muffled voice of the queen, but Neseya could have sworn there was a note of humour in the tone. "I assure you, he is not of fool's gold."
Joselyn grimaced but Neseya knew the queen spoke truth; regardless of tricks or lies or rumours, everyone everywhere knew the queen was the only one living with dragons and not even maegi could mimic such a thing.
"Open the door," Joselyn ordered one of the men. Neseya's body was stiff but she made herself step in front of her father and brother. Others were similarly tense as the bar was removed from the door.
Then it was pulled open, revealing the deceptively small form of a woman. Clad in shimmering black armour that glistened like polished obsidian, silvery hair like starlight and dripping with rain. A black crown of glittering red and purple gems.
Neseya squinted , trying to see more past the archers. They had lowered their bows and the other warriors has sheathed their swords but even from inside the hall Neseya could see the edge of a great golden snout just above the woman's -the queen's- head. The slightest curve of a scaled lip, scales glittering like coins in the rain. The fabled dragon of the Targaryen queen. She tried to move closer, but it seemed all the villagers also in the hall had the same idea and she quickly lost sight of the doorway even as voices began to clamour.
Despite Joselyn leaving the hall to converse with the dragon queen, Neseya had to stay. The few warriors and more able-bodied men were to check the village houses, to root out any of the raiders who might have taken refuge while the dragon queen lent them aid. Her curiosity nearly ate her alive, but Neseya forced herself to stay inside and then go to the wisewoman and her acolytes to be checked for injuries. Shock could make one ignore even broken bones, Neseya knew a few who had walked from falls or livestock kicks only to collapse from pain or broken limbs a few hours later. Jaelar went with her, her brother staying close with dried blood flaking across his face as they sat at the benches. Above them were several stuffed animal heads, including a gigantic elk with antlers nearly ten foot wide and hunted from the Kingdom of the Ifequevron. Neseya always found the dead shiny eyes of the mounted heads unnerving and now was no different as she let one of the acolytes, face covered except for her eyes, carefully go about plucking and poking at her limbs and checking for breaks.
Her hands were shaking, but Neseya just kept thinking about how hard she would have to wash her dress since it was so muddied.
"It seems quite dream-like, doesn't it?" Aheshi suddenly said, jolting Neseya from her thoughts, from where she was sitting next to her. The long cut on Aheshi's forearm had been stitched and bandaged, but Neseya could still see the red stains on her hands. Another gash was being stitched upon her shoulder, black thread tugging the torn skin back together, but Aheshi still smiled at Neseya nonetheless.
"Dream-like?" Neseya asked, even as one of the acolytes felt for any cracks or wounds through her hair.
"That a dragon queen would save our village. It's something out of a tale, isn't it? Not something I thought would happen. Yet I wonder what she's doing here? Meereen is quite a way away."
"Not on dragonback I would wager," another, a man who was getting one of the stumps of his cut off fingers cleaned, added.
"I can scarcely get up on the village walls without feeling my stomach churn," Aheshi said. "Being up in the clouds like a bird sounds terrifying."
Neseya nodded, even when the acolyte released her, citing that beyond some bruises and scrapes she was hale and whole. Still, she waited as Jaelar had the cut on his head cleaned and stitched, a part of her grimacing; her brother would carry a rather fearsome scar when it healed but she reminded herself that was better than him being buried, used as fertilizer for their fields and gardens. Neseya ignored the white linen lined against the wall behind the wisewoman who was brewing one of her tonics, ignored the vaguely human shaped lumps beneath the red-tainted fabric.
Once done she went back with her brother, to where their father was sitting on one of the carved chairs in the hall. It was less crowded, with those living in houses closest to the village hall leaving first when it was confirmed there were no bandits lurking within. Neseya could still easily remember Kestle's limp body and the headless form of the dead girl's mother. The sheer amount of blood splattered across the walls. They would need heated water, soap, and the boar-bristle brushes to scrub out the crimson. Neseya's fingers twitched, suddenly wondering where she had put down her piece of firewood.
Above them the heavy downpour slowly shifted to a drizzle, enough that they could venture from the hall without being soaked to the sink in seconds when one of the guards came back with news the few hideaways had been dealt with. Neseya would wager the few cracks of lightning she had heard before had something to do with it.
When most of the village had been checked, Neseya was the one within her family to go and sort their home. She insisted her father and brother stay in the hall until she had thoroughly checked the house; not because of bandits, but rather she feared a gory scene like the glimpses she had spied on her flight through the village. If there was indeed such a mess, Neseya would make haste to clean it up and spare her family it.
Yet it seemed the gods were in a generous mood, for when Neseya cautiously scouted out their small house she only found minimal damage. Some things had been knocked from the shelves inside, the table thrown and one of the chairs broken, as if one of the bandits had stormed in searching for their hiding places, but it was mostly intact. Even the large net her father had been in the middle of weaving hung in place from the ceiling, the bone needle still threaded partway through.
Throughout it all her mind kept shifting back to the dragon; when she exited their house to check for any burn damage she could see its great silhouette within the persistent fog off in the distance, near the gates. There was the bite of fear and unease, her limbs still feeling shaky, but Neseya made herself ignore it. Even if there were persistent, small glances back over her shoulder as she returned to the hall and fetched her family. As she walked back she passed a wagon pulled by oxen, with several shrouded figures heaped in the back. She gave a tired nod to the man as they passed by one another. Above, the rain continued to drizzle with the fog still soup-thick across the village.
"The gods are kind," her father said, when Neseya returned and told him of the state of their house before they went there. "It seems our offerings last harvest were looked upon with favour. They sent the queen and her dragon when we needed them most. We should give our thanks to the temple, when we have supper tonight."
It was oddly quiet in the village as Neseya checked with the neighbouring houses while her brother and father stayed inside. One was partially burnt, a wall scorched and crumbling with a scattering of persistent embers but the rain had stopped the flames from devouring it fully. Another of the houses had the occupants inside and Neseya spoke quietly to the married couple but they were unscathed, as the woman had already been to the wisewoman's temple for herbs for her pregnancy when the horns had sounded.
"We are quite fortunate but some others weren't," the mother sighed, rubbing at her distended belly. "But this will be a tale to tell for sure, have you seen the dragon? Truthfully I still thought them fanciful rumours, much less flying over our village."
Her husband spoke then, "But it seems the queen has been looking far and wide for her enemies. I would say this is her cleaning up any chance of retribution for the failed siege of Meereen. The Harpy seemed to have forgotten what happened to Old Ghis."
"As long as the queen doesn't take their place," Neseya replied somewhat mulishly.
"Best not tempt her then," the mother replied.
Her brother was waiting on the threshold when she returned back home, having changed out of his bloodied clothes and with a woolen cloak drawn around him. Neseya was chasing a few chickens back into the wooden pen of their house, the hens seemed very unconcerned by everything, clucking at her feet and pecking at the hem of her dress for scraps. She latched the gate shut with the small loop of rope before joining her brother.
Jaelar looked to her, "Did you see the dragon again? Or the queen?"
"No. I believe she's over by the gates. Perhaps her dragon is eating any of the bandits who remain."
"Good. I hope it eats them all."
Neseya made a soft noise before ushering her brother back inside. She had to change as well, then dry her clothes to break the mud off before they would be washed. Her father was going through their cabinets, trying to sort out what they could offer in tribute when night fell. Neseya tried to ignore the strange high trill that sounded out far in the distance, still so easily heard across the village.
She changed out of her filthy clothes before brushing out her fair hair and then tying it back in a bun. A few frizzled strands of yellow were already springing free like wayward spikes of hay but Neseya ignored it. Instead she turned to the brick fireplace and began to prepare the kindling for when it grew cold later in the evening. Jaelar meanwhile was fixing the table, using the leg of one of the smashed chairs. The wood of the chair could be used in the hearth, Neseya decided. She went and fetched the chair, dismantling the rest with the small axe next to the hearth and stacking the remains in the kindling basket at the side.
"I want to see the dragon," Jaelar said.
Their father turned his sightless gaze towards Jaelar's voice, hands pausing from where he had been resetting several pots, "The dragon must be large enough you can, without disturbing Her Radiance. Kings and queens are not our company. We should be grateful for the dragon's intervention but still know our place."
"And I am, I want to thank her," Jaelar said.
"I am sure our elders have seen to that, there is no need for you to trouble a dragonlord. Dragons are capricious beings, ferocious and wild. Full of pride. Do not tempt her fangs, do you understand me?"
"Yes, Father."
Neseya built the fire nest, kindling arranged in the small hut-like structure her grandfather had taught her. The flint would ignite it easily enough when the evening cold swept in through the village. By then Jaelar had set the table back up- it had a slight lean but the leg would hold.
Then the two, at their father's words, went to help the other villagers. In the distance there were some screams but they were far away enough Neseya knew it was beyond the boundary walls. Still, she kept glancing in the direction as she helped chase down some wayward goats. She kept an eye on the sky, despite the dense fog, as she helped a woman roll her dead husband in white cloth to await the oxen cart. She kept herself wary as she helped a man set his door back into frame, holding it steady as he hammered in the nails. Another she helped a group tug a horse carcass onto a wagon, to be taken to the butcher. No need to waste the meat.
The village hadn't been attacked in such a way for many years, the walls and locations would keep most skirmish outside. But storms were common enough so the labour of the clean up wasn't unknown to Neseya. Still, she felt tired and drained when she headed back home after spending most of the day helping tidy the village, and knowing there was still more work to be done. But the deep toll of the dinner bell was ringing and she was hungry.
Jaelar was waiting, holding a dead chicken in one hand and their father's hand in the other. Neseya joined his opposite side, taking a grip of his wrist before they both headed out across the village. Despite the coming night, the fog was persistent even if there were a few blotches high above that showed the sky. The drizzle had also finally stopped but much of the mud clung to their boots and tried to filthy their clothes yet again. Meanwhile as they walked Neseya and Jaela kept looking across the village with expectant, nervous eyes. Trying to locate the dragon when they guided their father up to the temple to pray before meal time.
Neseya knew the stories of the dragon queen, the mass deaths and horrific sacrifices. The way she slaughtered her handmaidens and bathed in their blood. The way she would butcher envoys, flay people alive and lay with children and animals. The rumours were wild and any trader which came through their village seemed to have more and more of them. But they all seemed to say the same thing; that Daenerys Targaryen was a vile thing, evil and soulless, while her dragon was a demon she summoned forth from the blackest of hells.
So Neseya did not know what to think, that the queen and her dragon had shown up to help them. Seemingly for no other reason than that they needed aid. After all, their village was far beyond Meereen and Yunaki and even Astapor, south of the Worm river. They were not the queen's subjects nor a wealthy village, there was nothing to gain in her intervention.
There hadn't been any more warning blasts from the sentry horns and Joselyn had freely gone with the queen. Could she have enchanted them? Neseya knew not.
A great rippling noise off across the village and Neseya's fingers bit into her father's arms, making him jolt. On the other side of the old man, Jaelar seemed similarly startled as they saw a great golden shape take to the sky far in the distance. Huge wings beating at the sky and sending the fog rippling like smoke until the form disappeared.
"Is it...leaving?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's hungry," Neseya suggested. If it attacked the livestock they might have to ration their stores.
The temple was crowded, a heavy hum of voices and movement as the two escorted their father. At the yawning door of the onion-shaped building Jaelar offered the chicken to one of the young girls. She accepted the dead fowl with a bow of her head before putting it on the table behind her. Various foodstuffs lined the dark wood, from meat and organ to vegetables and fruit and even fresh bread. At least she knew the bakers house had escaped the raid, both from the bandits and from the scattered fires.
Inside the temple it was a teeming mass of people, the low hum of prayers and thanks and pleads a soothing hum against Neseya's senses. Several braziers had been lit and fragrant herbs tossed inside, making the air smokey and sweet. The trio stopped in front of one of the idols, the sculpture made of a dark polished wood. Despite his aching limbs their father knelt first in the small available space, the rugs of the temple worn and compacted from the thousands of footfalls. Neseya joined her father, Jaelar on his other side. Another worshiper settled down next to Neseya, jostling her shoulder but she ignored it to instead pray.
Pray to the gods in thanks, for sparing her family. Pray to the gods to thank the sparing of most of the village, that the blood spilt had been so thin and scare. She prayed that those whose lives had been taken would find peace, find their loved ones, in the afterlife. She prayed that the dragon queen's bloodlust was sated, that she would not look to their village for food for her dragon. She prayed for a summer that would never end, with a warm sun and gentle rain.
By the time they were finished their knees ached and Neseya had been jostled and nudged numerous times, including nearly being knocked over by a young boy. Her body ached, the stress of the day settling upon her like a shroud. But she helped her father once his own lengthy prayers were done, Jaelar waiting on his opposite side was normal. Then they went to the feasting hall. Normally they would have dinners within their homes, with the communal hall used for celebrations, gatherings, weddings and funerals. But it was also customary for there to be a grand shared meal after attacks, a way to pull their community together and begin to heal. Long and low, the building was tucked behind the village hall near the end walls. Part of it was fireburnt, the wood having to be replaced before it ashed, but most of it was unscathed, and Neseya could smell the food. Saliva thickened in her mouth.
There was a mob to the left of the yawning doors, grouped around one of the men Neseya recognized as one of the archers. The man looked tired but thrilled, unperturbed by the thick group surrounding him.
"-I swear, tis what I heard! Joselyn speaking to the queen before she set off," Neseya heard the man say. "She was taking her dragon to check for anymore bandits that may be hiding within the fog of the valley. Joselyn also offered the queen supper which she accepted, so she shall return."
The man was mobbed, so many questions that folded over one another as Neseya stumbled past with her father. The mud on the ground was thick, and some of it was stained in red.
"Did she had fangs?"
"They say she's beautiful, was she?"
"Is she demanding a sacrifice for her aid?"
"Is her army near? The Unsullied they say? Has she marched for Old Ghis?"
"Did the queen have slitted eyes like a demon as they say?"
Neseya was soon too far to hear the mob but the concerns shook her all the same. Did the dragon queen have the eyes of a beast? Perhaps that was why Joselyn accepted her so easily; the woman was part of their elders, who ruled the village and was the most long serving. The old woman would not be easily fooled but what was flesh and blood to black magics?
Even while in the hall with her family, eating a bowl of thick lamb stew after they had prayed, Neseya felt uneasy. The idea of a dragon flying just outside unnerved her, and it somehow felt even more unnatural inside the hall. The cooks over at the far end with the tables filled with food, the great cauldrons burning, so normalcy in their village. What would the silver queen accept for supper? They may have enough in their village but nothing lavish as they predominantly traded.
Neseya was content with a simple life as a farmhand, doing things such as plucking a chicken for supper or yanking a rotten fence post out from the earth. Of the most excitement being a few marauders or the horn telling of a trader passing through. Dragons were something of long dead myths and legends, which had been swallowed by the Doom. The stew felt foul in her mouth but she made herself swallow it down, teeth biting into seasoned meat. If the gods heard their prayers than the queen should eat her own dinner and then move on. Hopefully without demanding too many sacrifices in return.
By the time she had choked down her bowl, the shoemakers from across the street had sat on the other side of the bench next to Jaelar. The husband immediately engaging her father in conversation, looking unbothered by the heavy wrappings at his wounded shoulder even with his wife having to help him eat. Neseya hadn't seen Zhasa since the raid, she hoped the woman was well and could recover soon.
Quietly Neseya excused herself from the table, walking up to the end of the hall to return her empty bowl. She recognized the butcher's daughter, Ryn, as one of the girls helping. Her long brown hair was dirtied but otherwise she looked unharmed and she flashed Neseya a quick smile from where she was stacking several dirtied plates. To the side was a large drum where the leftovers were scraped into, food for the pigs.
"An eventful day, wasn't it? Those bandits usually aren't so confident, I would wager the fog made them bold," Ryn said.
"I was out in the paddocks, I was fortunate enough to make it into the village but others weren't," Neseya replied. She could still see that headless mother and all the red.
"It could have been worse, Neseya," Ryn said, taking her empty bowl. "It could have been a lot worse."
"I still find it outlandish the dragon queen came," Neseya muttered. "From the tales, I would have thought she would have joined the hunt. What use does our little village have to a queen?"
"Regardless of how strange, I say we celebrate it. Those bandits have been sniffing around our village for some time, it seems the fog made them bold. Who knows how many would have been lost if not for her and her golden beast? The fates were kind and I won't insult it. Nor will I insult our saviour. Words are wind, actions say so much more and her actions are to help. That is what I choose to listen to."
The discussion remained done as more approached for their stew while she stayed to the side. Neseya was unsure what to think, as she felt such unease around the great dragon. The dark shadow in the fog, how its eyes remained bright like crimson stars.
Then Joselyn entered the feasting the hall, the old woman looking every one of her years. Neseya watched as the woman went to the small rise at the opposite end of the hall, before she clapped her wrinkled hands together. The noise shot through the many conversations and it only took two more claps for silence to reign. Outside everyone could hear the great thuds of wings before the rumble of the earth as something immense landed outside. But besides a few gasps and a baby crying, the villages remained silent. Joselyn's face was stern as she looked over the crowd, even as many eyes lingered on the door. But no silver haired woman appeared.
"The village and surrounding lands are cleared," Joselyn said, her voice as no-nonsense and direct as always and drawing back everyone's gaze. "All of the marauders have been killed, so we may rest easy this night. The gates of the village have also been repaired and there is no lasting damage to the walls. However several houses have been damaged in the fires and we have also lost seventeen of our numbers. Those whose homes have burnt down will be able to rest in the temple until they are rebuilt. The funerals for those we have lost will be held tomorrow morn, at the light of dawn when the roosters crow. There we will bury and give remembrance to the victims of this senseless act, along with prayer and celebration for their lives and souls."
There were a few agreeing mutters while Neseya leaned back against the bench even as her fingers toyed with the hem of her sleeve. She would need to gather some wildflowers for the graves, where they would be prepared in the fields.
"What about the dragon queen?" a voice suddenly said, loud and easily carrying. "Her beast is outside, isn't it?"
"She has helped us well but will leave our village before the sun sets-"
"Is she demanding a blood sacrifice?" another voice burst out.
"No," Joselyn's voice was sharp, her glare all but flaying the skin off the naysayer. "Her Radiance is demanding no such thing. She offered her help freely and is demanding no tribute. She will be treated with courtesy and respect if she addresses any of you. And none of you will approach her dragon, you will use reason and restraint. Am I heard clearly?"
Nods and murmurs and Joselyn looked satisfied. Neseya was anything but, her gaze straying to the door where she knew the creature had landed. She didn't understand why the queen wasn't demanding a sacrifice, everything Neseya had heard told well of the dragon queen's violent and bloodthirsty nature. But perhaps killing the bandits had been enough?
Neseya did not have much time to think, as Joselyn was approaching. The hall was settling back into the conversations of before and the low thrum of voices was comforting as the elder stepped up to the bench next to Neseya. Joselyn's dress was of the lightest and finest of woolens, rich with embroidery. But beyond that and the small woven flax necklace with its pale blue stone, the elders of their village did not carry lavish jewels or gold. Practical, their village was. For gemstones and precious metals meant nothing if there was a bad harvest season, and the wisewoman had heard in her prayers moons ago that a great chill was to sweep over the land and would be merciless in its icy rage.
Joselyn's words with the cooks were short and concise, like everything else. Neseya pushed away from the table, about to head back to where her brother and father were when Joselyn's wrinkled hand tugged at her elbow.
"Good, Neseya. There you are. Take a bowl of stew and some bread to the dragon queen, Her Radiance is just in the yard," Joselyn said. Neseya barely opened her mouth to protest when Joselyn turned to one of the other cooks, beginning a discussion about how they would need to take care of the new herds as several of the cows and sheep had been killed during the raid, along with trampled crops.
Ryn gave her an apologetic look but the girl still served up another bowl of stew, placing it on a small wooden tray and accompanied by a loaf of bread. A part of Neseya wanted to refuse- it seemed almost obscene, heading towards the queen with her shimmering black armour and great golden dragon and offering her stew in a worn wooden bowl. She felt, despite the woman's rationality and accommodating behaviour, that the queen might take offense in being offered peasant food.
But unfortunately they were a considering the fires and damages, they hadn't much to spare for luxury goods nor the manpower to focus on a feast. The queen herself had supposedly refused the offer, insisting to Joselyn she would be content sharing whatever meal would be prepared for the village at large. Stating that she had no need for any special meal. Neseya was skeptical, as everything she had heard of about kings and queens were their opulence and for dragonlords it was their avarice and greed.
"Hurry now," Joselyn snapped, spurring Neseya from her thoughts. "Get your head out of the clouds, girl. You're far too much like your mother. Move along."
Neseya hurried to obey, taking the tray and retreating even as Joselyn began to speak to Ryn. Still, she lingered at the door where many others were eyeing. No doubt wanting to see the mythical dragon in all its glory, meanwhile Neseya just wanted to be away from such a thing.
Still, orders were orders and so Neseya left the feasting hall to walk out onto the hard packed earth beyond. And there, at the far edge of the hall and seated on one of the old fallen logs surrounding an empty bonfire pit was the queen. But the true grandeur was the great golden dragon towering over her.
Three heads, such as the god Trios. Long and serpentine, covered in thick golden scales like plates of armour. The dragon was coiled around the queen, massive wings tucked against its sides and great heads resting on the ground. Twin tails, ending in bulbs littered in serrated spikes. The dragon's right most head was watching Neseya closely as the girl slowly approached, hands shaking and fingers gripping the tray so tight her knuckles were pushing white against the skin. She had to go between its heads and tails to reach the logs that the queen was sitting on.
The queen herself seemed lost in thought, not looking up at Neseya's approach. Instead she was sketching in a small book, brow furrowed slightly. Her black armour glistened and gleamed unlike any metal Neseya had seen, the inky blackness in sharp contrast to the queen's silver hair. Her skin was tanned, speaking of many weeks beneath the sun. There was a crimson cloak at her back, but it was scorched and torn.
Neseya briefly saw what the queen was drawing, a queer picture of a great serpent but with feathery bird wings growing from its back. Before she could look further, the queen shut the book, wrapping it shut with a narrow strip of leather and tucking it away. Her purple eyes were bright as they fixed upon Neseya's face.
"Forgive us this humble fare," Neseya said, tentatively offering the food to the queen with a shaky bow, "'Tis only lamb stew and bread. We don't have much in the mind of luxury here, Your Radiance. Forgive us."
"As long as it is not salted fish or jerky than I am more than content with whatever is given," the queen smiled, reaching out to take the tray. Numerous tiny bells were threaded through her braid, the soft chimes gentle and sweet.
Neseya blinked, having half expected the queen to demand better food or take offense to such a plain bowl, and to order her dragon to eat Neseya alive for the insult.
"It's, ah, one of our more traditional meals," Neseya said, fingers clenching around each other with the loss of the tray. "Quite basic yet filling. Lamb, leeks, turnips, onion, peas, oil, ginger and garum. There is also some red wine added, then it is cooked for a handful of hours, depending on the pot. The bread was baked this morning."
"And I thank you for the meal. However forgive my rudeness," the queen said, even as she took a spoonful of stew. "But you do not seem Ghiscari, as with quite a few others here, with your fair hair."
"My grandmother was Lyseni," Neseya explained. "And her blood has remained strong with myself and my brother, even if my mother looked nothing like her. Many of us in the village are of mixed blood, from traders looking to settle or people displaced from their own villages or long escaped slaves."
"Ah yes, the isle of Lys still has thick Old Valyrian blood doesn't it?" the queen made an interested noise, taking another bite of stew and swallowing it down before she continued, "It is said even the smallfolk have the golden hair and purple eyes like the dragonlords of yore. I wonder if I will find any kinship there, for most of my life I had felt alone barring my brother and he is gone."
Neseya nodded, face carefully blank. The queen was being kind and only curious but Neseya knew not what would happen if she accidentally caused offense. There was also the dragon, which was still watching her. Neseya struggled not to stare at it, even as the queen tore off a piece of bread and dunked it in the stew. To her surprise the dragon did not have the slit pupils like a serpent, as all tales said. Instead its pupils were round, like a human.
Its jaws were also big enough to swallow her whole. Neseya had to wonder if the handmaidens the queen fed to her beast had been alive in its stomach. The dragon queen was well known for her jealously, killing any woman she came across who could rival her beauty. Neseya had never been more glad for inheriting her father's plain face.
The queen swallowed down a mouthful of stew, a faint smile on her face, "This is quite delicious."
"Thank you, Your Radiance."
"What is your name?" the dragon queen asked, spoon dipping back into the bowl.
"I- I am Neseya, daughter of Layne," she said before hastily adding, "Your Radiance."
"I see. Have you lived in this village all your life?"
"Yes, I was born here as was my mother."
The dragon queen's questions were mundane, the like she would expect from bored caravan guards. When the queen shifted in place on the log, Neseya was able to see her face fully; now showing the four red cuts upon the left side of her jaw and nearly reaching the corner of her mouth. Narrow but bright, they carved down her face and dissipated down the armour at her throat. Red, as if freshly done. Neseya was uneasy, unsure as to just what had been capable of harming a dragon queen. Especially with the great golden beast at her side, which Neseya was doing her best to ignore as she waited for the queen to finish her meal.
"Sometimes I had wished for a simple life," the queen said, chewing on a piece of lamb and swallowing, "Once it was wishing to be a street urchin, with nothing more pressing than finding my next meal. Another to be a sailor. Or even a farmer, to be simple folk. To be a farmhand or a tailor or a shoemaker. Like anyone else here in this village. To be a queen is exhausting work, but the strength I have to defend my people and so I shall use it."
Neseya had no idea what to do with that information. She had always heard the silver queen summoned her beast, the countless ghastly rituals and countless dead children and babies given to the flames of every hell until a demon answered her. Instead of some fanged, demon-eyed temptress like all the stories said the dragon queen seemed like any other woman. She seemed tired, which was foreign to Neseya, even if the queen was attempting to engage her in conversation and was acting friendly. Despite that there was a deep air of grief to the queen, as if she were in mourning. Being close, Neseya could see the faint dark shadows beneath her purple eyes. It troubled her, to see the silver queen be so human. If anything, Neseya was quite certain the queen was even younger than she was.
The idea of ruling a city, much less one at war, was a daunting prospect. Neseya could barely handle arguments with Jaelar and he was kin.
"The raiders come sometimes," Neseya said hesitantly. Her body shook as the dragon shifted, but all it did was ruffle its wings slightly. "This is the largest attack yet, so it is not entirely at ease."
"They did," the dragon queen agreed, scooping up another spoonful of stew. "But no more. I believe the roving bands from the broken slaver alliance are the cause, so myself and my child have been scouring the lands for any that should threaten simple folk who mean no harm."
"Perhaps, but after the loss at Meereen the slavers of New Ghis might come as well," Neseysa said. "It has happened a few times in memory."
"New Ghis is gone," the queen replied, blunt and unyielding. "It is now just rubble and ruin, haunted by wyverns. You need not fear the slavers of the south anymore. Nor the likes of Astapor. And I will cease those of Qarth and then those westward once done."
Neseya blinked, caught off guard by the news. New Ghis, gone? The slaver city had always been there, for centuries and centuries. But had the dragon queen come from the south? While chasing the ragged remains of the collapse alliance, perhaps she thought to kill them at their root. Give them not place to flee to, much like one trapping rats. Close up their hideyholes and then let the dogs inside. There had been tell of Astapor and Yunkai falling but it seemed that the dragon queen's bloodlust was not satiated.
"I- that is curious news," Neseya managed to say since she could think of nothing else.
"It is what they deserved all the same. I will not tolerate slavery in Essos, and the fool masters are slow learners when I have been more than merciful to them. And now my mercy is at an end, they will die like the rest," the queen said.
"That is a noble goal, Your Radiance," Neseya said. At this point she just wanted the queen to finish eating so she may take the bowl and leave.
"You seem doubtful." There was a mild interest in the queen's tone but nothing threatening. Still, the great golden jaws were close and its breaths were like bellows.
"I would never presume to tell you anything," Neseya hastily said.
"I will not harm you, please speak your mind," the queen began to use the rest of her loaf to soak up the dregs of the stew. Her purple eyes were watchful, and seemed far too old for her youthful face.
"The masters may have their cities but the Dothraki are everywhere," Neseya finally said, when it became apparent the queen wanted her to speak. "If they no longer have the cities to sell and steal from they may spread across Essos like a plague of locust, hunting for more slaves now they will not have their gifts."
On the opposite side of the mountains their village should be safe, but with the slaver cities falling so steadily under dragon's breath she did not know how much longer they would be ignored by the horselords.
"You needn't fear such a future, Neseya. Nor anyone else in this village. A dragon feasts on horses and so it shall be," the queen said. On any other Neseya would think the queen's declaration against the Dothraki as foolish but there was something in the queen's eyes that made her keep her mouth shut. Instead she simply nodded, fingers clenching around each other.
The queen finished moping up the last of the stew, handing the tray back to Neseya who struggled not to snatch it right out of the queen's hands. The dragon was still looking at her. Its eyes were too aware and she hated it.
"I wish you good fortune, Your Radiance," she managed to stammer out.
The queen watched her, purple eyes as bright as her dragon's, before smiling faintly, "And for you as well, Neseya."
Neseya made herself walk calmly back to the feasting hall despite wanting to run as fast as her feet would carry her. By then many others had finished their own supper and were leaving for them homes, even as the watchmen began to put up lanterns within the village as night began to crept forth. However she did not miss how many were making stilted conversation by the hall; no doubt wanting to linger as much as they could, so they could stare at the queen and her dragon. Some tried to mob Neseya as she went inside, but Joselyn's presence quickly cut through that and she was able to get inside to return the bowl without hindrance.
Inside she passed along the dragon queen's compliment of the stew to the cooks; they would brag about it later in the village, Neseya could tell. Once done, she found her father and Jaelar waiting for her, her brother already having an arm linked through the old man's and Neseya took up position on her father's free side. When they walked out of the feasting hall, Neseya could see Joselyn speaking to the queen who was now on her feet. From so far she could not hear anything they were saying. Most of the village was still gathered outside, watching the great dragon as it shifted.
Joselyn clasped her hands, bowing to the dragon queen who smiled back. Neseya hesitated when her father slowed, looking in the direction of the queen and elder; he could only see shadows so she wondered how much he could notice. By then Joselyn was turning on her heel and walking back towards the hall, even as the dragon rose from where it had been lying down. Stifled gasps and exclamations rippled through the crowd at the rattle of scales, even as all the dragon did was settle on all fours. The midmost neck twisted down, until its scaled chest was touching the ground. With deft movements the silver queen climbed up the lengths of leather, up onto the saddle fixed upon the midmost neck of the dragon.
Her father's grip was tight on Neseya's hand, even as everyone watched as the three headed dragon rose up onto its hind legs. It was so massive its heads cleared the hall's roof, eyes bright and red. Then with a great rippling noise it flared out its wings, and screams came from the crowd as others shied away as the dragon flexed down its wings and launched itself into the sky. Dirt and dust went billowing, Neseya ducking with her eyes squeezed shut as the great heavy thuds of its wing-beats reverberated.
Only when the dust settled and the wings grew distant did she dare to open her eyes. Both her father and brother were looking skyward. Her father's hand was trembling and Neseya squeezed it.
"We should get home before night falls, so we can start the fire," Neseya said.
Her father seemed to shake off his wonderment, nodding and leaning against her side with a sigh. Jaelar was more reluctant, gaze fixed upon the sky where the dragon had disappeared eastward to be swallowed by the clouds. Neseya did not look, for she was glad the dragon was gone. Its gaze had been too aware and she felt unnerved and chilled from being forced so close into its presence.
"Come now," she tugged on her father's hand again and began to lead them towards the streets. "There's still much to be done."
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