Chapter 15

The cool breeze swept over them as they soared high above the vast ocean, and the sound of the wind rushing past their ears drowned out any other noise. Myranda clung tightly to Kaelarys as they flew, her heart pounding widely. She couldn't tell if it was in fear or excitement.

After Kaelarys freed her of her Brothel Madam, they had gone to bid Lyara and other people goodbye. She could make out the Banner of the Qoheros family on the clothes of one of the men, and the other was a soldier of the same rank as Lyara, but she didn't find them interesting enough to ask Kaelarys of their names.

He spoke for a long time with the man from the Qoheros family, obviously talking about business. She felt that she shouldn't interfere in matters that didn't concern her, so she didn't ask him what it was about.

When she found out that they weren't going to travel by ship or by foot but on the back of a Dragon, she was beyond nervous, terrified even. She had seen some of them from afar when some Dragonlords visited Volantis from time to time, but she never in her wildest dreams could have imagined ever riding one of them and as a free person even less. But she had overcome her fear when Kaelarys forced her to put her hand on his snout, and Ancalagon didn't react violently. Sure, he growled initially, and she felt a shiver run down her spine, but he didn't do anything beyond it.

When she touched him a second time, he didn't react at all, reassuring her that he wouldn't bite off her hand. But she knew that it was only because Kaelarys was with her, or else she would have enjoyed her freedom less than a day before dying miserably. A fate worthy of songs and poems.

She could feel the smooth, cool scales of the dragon's skin, each one as hard as steel yet as delicate as silk. A powerful, deadly, but equally beautiful creature, she admitted. As she stroked Ancalagon's snout, she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, steady and rhythmic beneath her touch. His nostrils flared ever so slightly with each breath, sending wisps of warm air spiraling into her face.

With each passing moment, Myranda's fear began to ebb away, replaced by a growing wonder of how such a creature could even live. She wondered which God could create a Being with such immense power of destruction.

"It's breathtaking up here, seeing everything from above. The sea looks so vast and endless, and yet so small, as if everything below has no meaning." She noted and sighed." I can see why your people act and think the way they do."

She could see the way he contemplated her words. She had seen the look in him countless times in the short time they had been together. He sometimes just gets lost in his own world, forgetting where he is and focusing only on his thoughts and them alone.

"You mean the way they act as if everything else is beneath them?" he began, not counting himself as one of the Dragonlords she describes." Or the slavery and sacrifices we offer in return for our Magic and ability to wield Dragons?" he questioned.

"Everything," I mumbled into his ears, laying my head against his broad back, seeking the comfort I needed when I thought about such things.

"As much as everyone believes it. Whoever it may be, from the lowest of slaves to the Dragonlords themselves, we are men, and as such, we sin as much as any other. Even the brightest stars in the sky must acknowledge the darkness within them for even the mightiest of dragons must bow to the weight of their own hubris. With power comes greed, and greed, like a voracious Dragonflame, consumes the hearts of men, leaving nothing but ashes and destruction behind us. The Dragonlords, like all men, are greedy for power and will stop at nothing to achieve it, and even more so when they intend to keep the power they gained. With or without Vaylria, darkness will prevail in men's hearts and will continue to exist long after Vaylria."

The longer Myranda listens to him, the better she understands what he wants to tell her, but it makes reality all the more depressing as it feels like she is part of the evil, as she is human too, but she doesn't feel like it. 

She lifted her head and placed hers into the crock of his neck and hesitated to speak. Kaelarys seemed to realize it as he looked back at her, forcing her to lift her head once again. He crocked his eyebrows, silently telling her to say what she had to say.

"D-Do you think the Gods made us all with a purpose?" Myranda's voice wavered slightly as she spoke, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the dragon's scales beneath her. "Or are we just pawns in their cruel game of fate?"

"I don't know," he said," But I don't want to know it either."

"Why?" she asked, surprised by his answer. Such a simple question, yet all the harder to answer, she thought to herself.

"Because I don't think I will like the answer," he admitted."But enough of these depressing thoughts; tell me of your Homeland. Now that I think about it, I don't even know where you come from."

Myranda hesitated for a moment before answering. "I come from the North," she said softly.

Kaelarys turned his head to look at her, surprise evident in his eyes. "The North? You don't look like a Northerner," he said, studying her features. "Your skin is too olive, your hair too fair, but the color matches. Northerners usually have pale skin and dark hair, but red isn't that uncommon either. Now that I think about it, you remind me of a Northern Beauty I once saw, and she looked much like yourself. But don't worry," he said when he saw her grin rising." I never had anything with her."

Myranda chuckled, leaning closer against him as they soared above the sea. "I suppose I am an unusual Northerner," she admitted. "My mother was from Lys. She had her heart captured by a man from the North. My father, a minor Northern Lord, took her with him and brought her back to his castle. That's where I was born and raised."She sighed." The North is a place of rugged beauty with vast forests that stretch as far as the eye can see. It's harsh and unforgiving, but there is a certain beauty in it. Just like with Ancalagon."

Kaelarys snorted humorful at her last comment. "That explains a lot. You have the grace and beauty of Lys and the strength of the North."

Myranda's smile widened at his words. "Thank you," she said, her voice filled with warmth.

"And I have wanted to visit the North anyway," Kaelarys continued. "I heard tales of the Wall and want to see it myself. See if the stories they tell are the truth or just that, stories."

As they continued their journey, the coastline of Lys came into view, a lush, green expanse dotted with vibrant colors. The sunny island was fertile with palm and fruit trees, and the surrounding blue-green waters were filled with fish. Lys, also known as Lys the Lovely, was a paradise city and served as a resort for Dragonlords and wealthy people from all across the world.

The city of Lys sparkled in the sunlight, its white-washed buildings, colorful terracotta rooftops and lust gardens creating a picturesque scene. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the sound of gentle waves lapping against the shore. It was a place where one could easily forget the troubles of the world and lose themselves in the beauty of nature.

The people living here consider trade the highest profession one can attain, unlike the Seven Kingdoms, where picking up arms is considered the noblest profession. It is protected by Valyria, and a Warfleet is stationed here to protect the city from pirates and other outlaws. Not that anyone really ever tried invading Lys, as it would be the height of stupidity. 

Some former Lord Freeholders, who have given up their titles to their heirs and children to enjoy their last days in paradise and luxury, are living here. There aren't many, though, as most don't want to let go of their power and try to grab at it even if they have one step into their graves.

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Only 1500 words long...the shortest I have written till now. Most are 1800 to 2000, as I think the length works perfectly with my Writing Style.