Chapter VII. Dragon Dreams
Dorne, Sunspear
Year 115 BC
Neferion
Sighing, he tore his gaze from the book, rubbed his tired eyes, and leaned back against the back of the chair. On the table in front of him, besides several books, lay numerous sheets of paper with notes scribbled on them, a quill, and more than one inkwell.
In the past few days since arriving in Sunspear, he had devoted much of his time to exploring the city and the fortress itself, conversing with its inhabitants, and even having two brief conversations with the princess.
However, his main goal was to learn to write the Common Language, which he already spoke fluently, and at the same time begin learning High Valyrian, the main language of the eastern continent of Essos.
The fact that the script of both languages was nearly identical to Tamrielic and Aldmeris, which, along with Dovahzul, were his main languages, made learning much easier. It was also important that he had quite a talent for languages and spoke 9 fluently and could even curse the Daedra in their language with ease.
The chamber he was given for his stay in the capital of the Principality of Dorne was probably one of the best in the palace, as it was not only extremely spacious but also richly decorated and filled with splendour, which was probably intended to emphasise the wealth of House Martell.
Perhaps it would have impressed him if he hadn't been an Altmer and hadn't seen even richer palaces in Summerset, with its vast, millennia-accumulated splendour and almost fairytale-like landscape. Its cities, palaces, and houses practically dripped with gold and other rare metals.
He also saw that the Princess was clearly trying to win him over to her and Dorne, likely hoping to gain his services, perhaps even his loyalty. She must have seen his potential, which he didn't entirely hide; having seen the physical capabilities of the local people, he demonstrated strength far beyond the capabilities of the inhabitants of this world, and Dawnbreaker added his own.
Neferion, however, had no intention of meddling in politics and local disputes between rulers and kingdoms. For the first time in his life, he was free from politics, the machinations of the gods, and above all, from fate.
From birth, his origins and heritage made him a tool in the hands of various factions of the Dominion, and later he had to fight with all his might to escape the intrigues of the Daedric Princes and fate itself if he didn't want to end up like the other heroes of Nirn, who, after fulfilling their destiny, were discarded like worn-out toys.
In this new world he found himself in, he intended to write his own legend, do whatever he wanted, explore the world, and fight monsters, bandits, and those who oppressed the innocent. This was what he loved to do; this was where he felt his calling. If he did something, it would be because he wanted to.
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A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in," he called, and a second later Princess Nymeria appeared, flanked by two guards and her cousin and handmaiden Tyene, practically a female teenage version of her father, distinguished only by her green eyes.
Neferion gracefully bowed and gave a slight nod of respect, greeting her, "Princess. To what do I owe this honour?"
Instead of answering, Nymeria walked up to him and, stepping past him, began examining the notes on the table. "You've made surprising progress in just a few days. I find it hard to believe you've only just begun learning our script," she said, turning to him with a smile that only enhanced her beauty.
He slightly shook his head. "It's nothing extraordinary; our languages are based on a similar alphabet. Besides, I've always had quite a talent for languages, and I'm also a determined mer."
"Mer? I've never heard that term before," Nymeria replied with a twinkle in her eye, keenly interested.
"That's the name of my people, or the Altmeri to be precise." He replied, to which she tilted her head slightly to get a better look at him. After that she replied in a decisive tone, used to giving orders without the possibility of refusal.
"You will have supper today with me and my closest ones, during which you will tell me more about your home, only this time, however, without evasive answers. like before." She said the last words with clear irritation in her voice, at which he couldn't help but laugh a little, unable to forget how their conversation had ended yesterday.
"I doubt you came here to invite me to share a meal, princess. You could always send a servant. So something happened that prompted you to come here. What is it?" he asked, to which Nymeria shook her head slightly.
"Don't worry, it's nothing serious. I just wanted to let you know that we're sailing for Yronwood tomorrow morning."
He frowned slightly. "What do you mean by 'we,' Your Highness?"
"I'm sailing with you to Yronwood. You'll go slay the beast, and I'll remind my most stubborn vassal of myself," she replied with an inscrutable expression, but he could clearly see the spark of excitement burning in her eyes.
Well, he guessed the young woman wanted to get out of the palace, and that inspecting her own lands at the same time made a lot of sense.
"Now, princess, I don't know if they'll try to gut me with a spear in Yronwood more because of my appearance or because I'll be accompanying you," he said, looking at the young ruler with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
Nymeria laughed lightly and started walking toward the door, but as she was leaving, she added, "Or maybe both? The people there don't like either Martells or outsiders."
"Supper will be ready in less than an hour. Wyll will be waiting for you outside the door and will escort you," she added, pointing to one of the guards and leaving the room.
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Valyria
Year 115 BC
The Dreamer
She seemed to float in midair, as light as a feather, without feeling even the slightest gust of wind. Before her eyes stretched a beautiful peninsula, filled with green valleys, the blue of numerous lakes and rivers, and beautiful cities with spires reaching up to the clouds, where dozens of dragons lay, basking in the sun.
This was her home, hers and her people's. Build on the might of dragons, magic, and the backs of hundreds of millions of slaves... A paradise for the chosen, a torment for the rest... A beautiful Valyrian dream, yet one that was coming to an end... And indeed, just like the last time and every time before, a shout pierced the blissful peace of the 'dragon kingdom'.
But this was no ordinary scream, lost in the air and distance, of man or beast. This shout pierced the sky and reached the farthest corners of Planetos. The dragons uttered mournful howls of terror. The earth began to tremble, then crack. The volcanoes surrounding Valyria, like a ring, began to erupt one after another with terrifying force, blanketing the surrounding cities and ports in magma and ash.
Cracks in the earth began to widen, creating vast canyons that stretched deep into the ground. The seas surrounding the peninsula were so turbulent that water poured onto the shattered lands, where, mixing with the hot magma, it created enormous amounts of steam, which then mingled with the smoke. The Valyrian paradise was left a shattered wasteland, filled with smoke and fire.
Suddenly, the scene changed. She found herself back in Valyria, untouched by the cataclysm, but once again the peace was short-lived as a mighty shout once again pierced the heavens. This time, however, the earth did not crack and the volcanoes did not erupt.
The sky, however, became cloaked in impenetrable black clouds, and a moment later, it burst into a downpour of lightning so innumerable that it seemed as if thousands of pillars of purple-blue light were supporting the very firmament. Dragons fell from the sky like mosquitoes; hills and cities vanished, struck by pure destruction. The shattered peaks of volcanoes once again poured forth geysers of lava and ash.
Visions followed one after another, each different, yet each filled with destruction. The only constant between visions was the silhouette of an armoured man, casting a shadow that stretched beyond the farthest horizon. A shadow belonging to a dragon.
Who this warrior was, and what connection he had to the destruction she had witnessed, she had no idea, but she was certain of one thing: In one way or another, he was connected to the doom of Valyria. After the last of the vision, she and the unknown man with the dragon's shadow remained. She waited for the dream to end, but she felt that this time something had changed.
Suddenly, a gargantuan shadow, shaped like a dragon, moved and turned its head towards her. Glowing golden eyes, like twin suns, fell upon her, filling her with unspeakable terror. The dragon opened its shadowy maw, and white flames poured from it, engulfing everything in sight like a sea of fire… Then there was only darkness, and she awoke drenched in sweat, her heart pounding, trying to catch her breath.
Her eyes slowly began to adjust to the dim light. Her spacious chambers were filled only with moonlight streaming through the numerous windows. Both the enormous bed she slept on and her nightgown, made of the finest Yi-Ti fabrics, were damp with sweat, and blood dripped from her clenched fists.
Slowly, her breathing began to calm, but she couldn't shake the terror that filled her. With each night, these dreams and visions grew worse and more real. At first, she barely remembered flashes, but now she couldn't forget even the smallest detail.
At night, her dreams were filled with destruction and dread, and now they accompanied her waking hours as well. Finally, exhausted, she fell asleep, but this time without nightmare visions, for once again she was awakened by the sunlight streaming through the open windows.
It didn't take long for her slaves to enter the chamber to help her prepare, but she dismissed them gently. Since the Dragon Dreams started, she had begun to consider and question many aspects of Valyrian culture, law, and morality.
Although she had grown accustomed to this state of affairs, for it was the world she had grown up in, her visions allowed her to see it all from a distance, from a completely different perspective.
She couldn't shake the thought that the impending destruction was punishment for all the crimes and atrocities her people had committed over the millennia.
And due to the fact that every son and daughter of one of the Forty Families of Dragonlords of Valyria was required to become at least adept in the craft of war or the arcanes of magic, her knowledge of this darker side of her people's power was quite considerable, as she possessed an exceptional talent for magic, which was particularly evident in Dragon Dreams.
Her thoughts drifted back to the state of Valyria itself, beautiful on the outside, but in truth a festering, rotting corpse from within. What terrified her most, however, was the fact that she saw no hope for change. Slavery and blood magic were the lifeblood of Freehold.
But her greatest problem was the pride of her people and the belief that they were gods on earth, which was fuelled by the fact of having dragons, when in reality they could rot at the drop of a sword, a blade in the dark, a stray arrow, poison in a cup, or disease.
She herself began to look at slavery differently, something she had always considered natural, a part of the world's order. However, the visions of absolute destruction she saw convinced her of one thing: she and the other Valyrians were in no way superior to other peoples. The Dragonlords were distinguished from other Valyrians only by possession of their dragons, but the approaching doom paid no heed to them, killing slaves and masters alike. Both humans and even dragons themselves.
Having prepared herself, she left her chambers and made her way to the library, where she expected to find her father, who had been spending his time there from early morning until dusk for several days. Exactly from the moment when she had confessed to him the dreams and visions that had been haunting her.
With weary steps, weighed down by the responsibility that Dragon Dreams brought, she traversed the vast corridors of their palace, adorned with carvings, tapestries, and paintings... mostly dragons, of course. Wealth spilt out at every turn, even though they were one of the weakest families among the Forty.
Soon she stood before oak double doors, carved with gold and silver engravings. She opened one door leaf and entered a large oval chamber that could easily accommodate hundreds of people, yet it was only one of the many floors of the library where her ancestors had collected all manner of books, scrolls, and stone tablets for millennia.
She hurriedly walked between the shelves and up the stairs to the top floor, where her father probably was looking for texts about Dragon Dreams.
Instead of Aenar Targaryen, however, she found only Set, her father's personal slave and loyal confidant, arranging the books and scrolls that lay in disarray in the place where her father usually sat.
She turned to the older man she had known practically all her life and asked, "Set, where can I find my father? I expected to find him here, for he had barely left the library for days."
He inclined his head slightly. "My lady, your father left the palace in a hurry an hour ago and rode Verax to the Tower of Knowledge to meet with his brother and seek his opinion."
Hmm. Her father must have found something on the subject of Dragon Dreams if he felt the need to consult with her uncle Aemon, one of the Loremasters, the men who guarded all the knowledge of their people. She could only hope he would learn something important, for she sensed they didn't have much time.