A Tale of Blood and Monsters Ch. 12

Year 279 AC

Essos – Myr's Harbor

I stand on the dock as the ship that will carry me to Tyrosh pulls into port. Unlike with Chatana, Captain Quhuru Mo is not one to jump off his ship with hybrid speed in order to wrap his legs around me and give me a big wet one. I would more than likely be unhappy if he was. Instead, he makes sure his vessel is anchored properly and barks out several loud commands to his crew, before disembarking and coming to a stop before me.

"Messenger! It is good to be in your presence once more." The dark skinned captain bows formally at the waist, before straightening up. The smile on his face only grows when a reptilian-like head creeps over my shoulder to peer at him.

"Ah, I never doubted what I was told of course, but it is quite exciting to see it in person. That is one of the dragons you hatched in Valyria, yes? What am I to call it?"

Reaching up to stroke the dragon's scales, I smile, "Yes, this is one of the two. My Ravia has the other, and I expect she will make an excellent rider for him once he has reached maturity. As for their names, you may call this one Niklaus. Ravia's is called Elijah."

My dragons were hatchlings no more, now far too large to each rest on my shoulders comfortably. The one I'd named Niklaus was currently latched onto me by climbing across my back, his wings folded in and his tail sliding around my waist to maintain his hold. Given their growth, it made sense to me to pass off Elijah to Chatana before I left.

After all, Myr was the city with which I was taking the slowest approach, building up their dependence on me through my religion, instead of the strategy I was employing in Lys with the twins. Having a dragon housed within their city could only help to convince the Myrmen that they were better off as my friends than my enemies, and eventually that their more appropriate place was in service to me, knelt at my feet as they had once kneeled to the Valyria of times past.

As for giving my dragon's the same names as my brothers, I had originally left them unnamed entirely. As they grew though, it seemed appropriate to have a way to identify them more effectively, especially when I looked towards a future where many more dragons would eventually be hatched back in Old Valyria. The names were certainly strange to all who heard them, but the majority of people who got to learn how to address the dragons were my Blessed, so the overall reaction was calm acceptance, even if they did not fully understand my naming choices.

Quhuru Mo is the same way, pausing for only a moment to assimilate this knowledge, before nodding agreeably, "Very well then Messenger. I see that you have some things to be loaded onto the ship. We are ready to head back out immediately, as you originally stated, or we can set anchor for a day or two. It is up to you, however, either way I think there is an issue you will wish to address on board right now."

I raise an eyebrow at that, "Our plans remain unchanged, as soon as the crew is done loading up the crates behind me, we may set sail. As for this issue that must be addressed, explain as we go to address it."

He bows slightly again before turning and leading me onto the ship. The story he weaves is not truly surprising to me, more of a pleasant confirmation than anything else, as I'm led down into the brig where two dark-skinned 'Summer Islanders' are trussed up and chained under the watch of loyal hybrid eyes.

We come to a stop before them and they glare balefully, their eyes locking onto my specifically with an intense hatred that does actually surprise me a bit.

Quhuru gestures down at them, "As I said, these two along with several others attempted to infiltrate the crews of our fleet when we were preparing to depart from the Isles. They first tried to gain work as sailors, but the recruiter could tell something was off with them… regardless of the fact that our crew are all followers of the Almighty One anyways, not regular gutter trash."

"After the issue was brought to my attention, I had every man who felt fake to our enhanced senses hunted down and captured. Many fought back with surprising skill and obvious training. Because of this, most of them had to be killed. These two were the only ones who lived, but I thought you might wish to question them yourself. They have not spoken a word to us despite the work of one of our best interrogators."

I smile down at the prisoners, "Indeed, I'm not surprised to hear that. Nor am I surprised to hear that many of them fought so well. These are Faceless Men, my dear Captain. Assassins who have obviously been sent to assassinate me. I doubt they will talk, but the last one spouted off to me before I killed him, so perhaps they have just been waiting for my presence."

Raising an eyebrow and smiling, I stare the prisoners down for a long moment before one finally speaks up, voice measured and clipped.

"Valar Morghulis."

I smile thinly, "Yes, that's what your peer said when he failed in his task as well. All men must die, hm? Who am I to disagree?"

Punctuating that statement, I pull my sword out of my sheath and thrust it through the soft flesh of the Faceless Man's neck and into the wood behind him. He chokes and gurgles for a few moments and then dies. Pulling my blade free, I turn towards his fellow with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow.

This Faceless Man is not nearly as composed or calm. His stolen features twist angrily at my casual disregard for his comrade's death.

"Valar Morghulis abomination. I go to join my god, but my brothers shall finish my work. You cannot escape death forever."

That gets a pause from me, "Oh? How interesting."

Rising my blade, caked as it is in the lifeblood of his dead peer, I place it under his chin and push up so he's forced to look up at me, "I understand now, more than I had before. You lot haven't been contracted to kill me. You're doing it out of your own volition. You've decided my very existence offends your oh so delicate sensibilities and your entire order has set out of its own accord to end me. Am I right?"

His expression twitches once before he smooths it over and becomes much like his comrade, expressionless and outwardly calm. It's far too late though, and I think we both know that. Grinning widely, I find myself getting a bit more excited than usual. My eyes shift into black and gold and veins pop up around their edges. My teeth elongate as rows of vampire fangs along with sharp wolf canines replace my normal human teeth.

In that moment, I am the perfect picture of a monster and even this assassin with his magics and his training and his stolen face rears back a bit at my true face. I just give a wide grin, showing off more of my rows of long sharp teeth.

"I feel like I'll be getting the chance to repeat this often over the coming months, as I lay waste to your order and decimate your ranks. I told the one I killed in Lys this as well, and I suppose I shall tell you here and now, because in the future I probably won't waste the breathe. I am no man. I am beyond man. I am mortal's better in every way. I am over four millennia old and better than you has tried and failed to end me."

I lean in just a bit, still grinning as I slowly slide the tip of my blade into the second Faceless Man's throat, speaking over his choked gurgles as he dies slowly and painfully.

"The truth is you do not have the capability to end me. None on this small world do. Your mission and the mission of your brothers who come after you is all for naught. I cannot be killed. I am, after all, immortal."

My little speech has exactly the effect I'd hoped for, as the dying man before me accepts the truth of what I'm saying and I relish the anguish and absolute despair in his eyes, just before the light goes out and he finally expires.

I let out a sigh and my facial features relax back to normal as I pull back and take my sword with me, glancing to Quhuru Mo, "Burn the bodies and throw the ash into the water. Spread word to the crew as well. Anymore of these fake men found are to be killed and disposed of the same way immediately. I will have to pen a letter to be copied and spread amongst the Faithful, as widespread as we have now become. These Faceless Men will try to strike from every direction, but we, blessed as we are by the Almighty One, are uniquely suited for sussing them out."

The Captain nods and bows slightly at the waist, seeming suitably awed by the display he just witnessed. He moves to carry out my orders, before pausing slightly, "Messenger, may I ask a question?"

I gesture for him to do so.

He hesitates, brow furrowing in confusion and face twisting into a frown, "What is a… 'millennia'?"

Blinking, I think back to what I'd said. Huh, I suppose I'd slipped into English when I'd said that. Frowning as well now, I answer a bit absently, "A millennia is a thousand years. Huh, do you think he didn't understand me either? That's a bit… disappointing. Kind of takes a bit away from the rant doesn't it? … How aggravating."

The side of Quhuru's mouth quirks up ever so slightly as I mockingly bemoan my word choice, "Having watched from the side, I can confidently say the severity of the rest of what you were saying was not diminished in the slightest by your one nonsensical made up word."

I glance at the dark-skinned islander sharply before snorting and cracking a smile, "Getting a bit snarky there Captain. To think, all it took was me executing two assassins in front of you, to get you to lighten up."

Shaking my head, I wipe my blade off on the clothes of the corpses in front of me, and then return the Valyrian Steel to its sheathe and turn to walk away, leaving Quhuru to deal with the mess and carry out my instructions.

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Year 279 AC

Essos – Tyrosh

Where Lys was more opulent and almost elvish in their looks and their bearing, Tyrosh was probably the more outlandish of the two places. As we sailed into port, the whole place was in one word, colorful. I was even able to tell the visiting ships from Tyrosh's own sizable fleet, simply because much like their hair, the Tyroshi painted their masts with vibrant dyes from all shades of the rainbow.

Though of course, I didn't need that distinction to tell the difference between the boats in Tyrosh's bay that belonged to me, and the boats that did not. After all, the fleet I'd had Quhuru gather for me from the Summer Isles was entirely made up of Swan Ships, and the unique Summer Islander ship design stood out prominently across the harbor. Masquerading as merchant ships with holds full of wares to sell in order to lend credence to the claim, they would have been trickling into Tyrosh for weeks now, disgorging crews of my hybrids into the city while they awaited my arrival.

Tyrosh didn't know it yet, but the city had a sword to the back of its neck and a knife to its throat. It was up to me to apply pressure where it would hurt the most, and send the city to its knees in new found service to the Almighty One and of course, me as well. Which at the end of the day, meant I needed a meeting with Tyrosh's sole leader, the Archon.

Arranging the meeting was not hard, after all, I am who I am and at this point, I represented not only an expanding new religion, but also a growing revived nation as well. Like with Lys and Myr, those in power in Tyrosh needed to feel me out. Unlike with Lys and Myr however, the Archon of Tyrosh did not send a representative, nor did he summon me directly before him.

Instead, I was scheduled to meet with him through the normal channels, something that drew a raised eyebrow from me, but in the long run, did not truly matter much. The end result would be the same. To add on to Tyrosh's clear desire to not treat me as their neighbors had, was the admittedly intelligent demand that I leave my dragon out of my meeting with the Archon, and go in both alone and unarmed.

Once again, I was more than willing to accommodate them, given that the power I laid claim to was largely internal, not external. I did not need a dragon nor did I need a sword or even an army to do as I pleased. If I wanted, I could have come to Tyrosh without even clothes on my back and feasted upon it's nobility before setting myself up as its undisputed ruler, and there would have been nothing anyone could have done about it.

That mental imagery was responsible for the wide grin on my face when I finally met with the Archon in a small room fashioned like an office of sorts. I wasn't surprised at the venue, given what I knew about Tyrosh's history as a military outpost. The position of Archon had never been that of a king or even a lord, but that of an official left to oversee operations for the Valyrian Freehold. Thus, it made sense that he would spend his days behind a desk rather than in a throne room.

That is why I did not wait for him to react to my presence, before settling down into the chair across from him and lounging about. After all, we were not equals. He glanced up from his work for a moment before looking back down and speaking without making eye contact, a clear attempt at a power play.

"So you are the dragonlord I've heard so much about over the last several months. You've certainly been moving quickly."

My eyebrow rises, but my smile remains on my face as I answer him, "I must move fast, for I am guided by a higher purpose. I consider dragonlord the least of my titles. My preference leans towards Messenger of the Almighty One, though I'll admit it's a bit wordy and the lazy will always fall back on shorter epithets."

Now the Archon looks at me, eyes boring into my own. I think he's trying to be intimidating, but the circumstances deny him that right. Not only am I who I am, his hair is fucking lime green and the contrast does not do well against his olive skin tone. It's all I can do to refrain from laughing at his appearance.

"Is that so? Well than 'Messenger'. What message do you have for me? Have you come from your seat in a reborn Valyria to draw Tyrosh back into the hold? Is that why you visit us only after Lys and Myr, because my own title has misled you and you believe we will simply just accept the yoke back around our necks?"

I blink at the short rant. Is that what all of this has been about? Tyrosh felt snubbed by me because out of the trinity, I'd visited them last? They were insulted, so they looked to insult me in turn. That was rather… amusing to say the least. A bit pitiable as well. Leaning back in my chair a bit, I chuckle lightly.

"Ah, my dear Archon I apologize. I had no idea that the Tyroshi were so insecure, though I suppose I should have suspected. You've taken the wrong meaning from my actions. Where I come from in fact, we actually save the best for last, more often than not. I arrived in Tyrosh after Lys and Myr because I'm making it my home away from home here on the west coast of Essos. While I shall visit Lys and Myr quite often over the next few years, this is the city I will live in and operate out of, where I will further my plans."

The Archon is silent as he digests my words. I can tell they don't do much to set him at ease or appease his offended delicate sensibilities. Eventually, he responds, focusing on the last bit of what I'd said, "And what are these plans?"

My grin is wide and rather predatory as I respond frankly, "Piracy, of course."

That gets an even more visceral reaction from the Archon as his eyes widen in anger and he stands to plant his hands on the desk before him, his tone low but dangerous, "Excuse me?"

I shrug as a chuckle escapes my lips, "Of course we won't call it that. Privateering is the polite word yes? Ministry is another I would use, as of course it's all to be done in the name of the Almighty One. In the end though, it will be piracy plain and simple. Focused on Westerosi ships only though I think. I have no desire to upset Essosi sailors. I consider them as much my subjects as you are after all."

The anger is still there, but it has new friends in confusion and just a hint of worry in the Archon's expression, "You're insane."

Smiling wickedly, I shrug and steal another quote, "Something else we say where I come from. The line between insanity and genius is quite thin indeed."

Gritting his teeth, the Archon gestures angrily, "Coming in here unarmed and demanding the Tyroshi participate in piracy is not what I would call genius. The height of folly is a better way to phrase it. Guards!"

The last word is shouted and I stand and turn as the guards outside the door enter at his call. Before the Archon says anything, I lock eyes with the mortal men and speak up.

"Ignore the dear Archon, go back to your posts and forget this."

As the compelled guards do as I say, I turn back to a shocked Archon and point my finger at him, "And you will sit down and be quiet."

His ass plops back down into the chair as I place my own hands on the desk between us and lean towards him. My entire countenance changes in that moment, going from care free to threatening and altogether dangerous, "Surely there must have been rumors? Did you think I would really walk in here defenseless? Did you think you were safe because your pathetic guards were right outside? I am my god's avatar and while you may scoff and refuse to believe me all you want, it does not change the facts. I am beyond you my little archon. I am beyond anyone in this pathetic city, in this entire pathetic world."

As suddenly as I became threatening, I switch back to care free, my hands leaving his desk as a wide smile crosses my face and I begin to circle around it to come to a stop behind him, "Ah but don't worry, I intend to give you a gift. You are elected by the wealthy of this city yes? I imagine that leaves you somewhat beholden to them."

My hands come to rest on his shoulders, even as the Archon continues to be unable to leave his seat. I lean down to speak in his ear, "Well, I'm sure you'll be glad to know that no more will you have to cater to their whims to maintain your position. The only one you will have to keep happy is me. Tyrosh will serve me and me alone, and you will lead them in that service. Not because you are an Archon and the Archons once served the Valyrian Freehold. Not because I am the only dragonlord alive as well as the one who brought the Valyria back to life."

Tearing my wrist open, I force it into Archon's mouth, provoking him to suddenly struggle and choke as I force my blood down his throat and continue on with my little monologue, "No, you and Tyrosh will serve me because I am stronger than you and that is the way the world works. The strong rule over and protect the weak, and in exchange, the weak serve. And you will be serving for quite a long time."

I punctuate that last statement by snapping the Archon's neck and letting his bloody face fall forward onto the desk in front of him as he dies. Then, I move back around and settle back into my own chair, waiting calmly for the ruler of Tyrosh to come back to life. Once he did, I would bring him under my control and in turn he would bring the movers and shakers of Tyrosh under his control.

The port city would serve me in all but name within the week and from there I would turn it towards my desire to engage in a bit of piracy. There wasn't any real reason behind it. I was largely just killing time until the Tournament at Harrenhal. Yeah, I should probably deal with the House of Black and White in Braavos at some point in the next couple years as well, but for the moment the Faceless Men were the hunted and my hybrids were the hunters. Already word had trickled in that some of the assassins had been caught in Tyrosh before we even arrived, my orders to kill anyone who stank of their magic preceding my arrival in the city.

They could wait. For now, I wanted to poke and prod at Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms there. If they didn't know about me yet, I wanted them to learn. I wanted them to fear and hate and prepare, only for their preparations to be derailed entirely by a Mad King and an angry berserker of a Baratheon.

After all, it wasn't very sporting to not give them fair warning, now was it?

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Year 279 AC

The Narrow Sea

Ashara Dayne was not a fool. She was a noblewoman and thus a bit sheltered, but she was intelligent enough to recognize her own beauty as she'd grown into the young woman she was now. Men looked at her and she very clearly caught the desire in their eyes. Her suitors were numerous even as her father kept from making a definitive match, more than likely looking for the one that would best suit their House as was the way of things.

To that end, when word had reached them that the Elia Martell's mother had managed to secure a marriage between her and Rhaegar Targaryen, heir to the Seven Kingdoms, the decision to have Ashara serve as the older girl's lady-in-waiting had been an easy one to make. House Dayne was if nothing else, always willing to raise their prestige in the eyes of their peers. Her brother achieved that through his exemplary service as a Knight of the Kingsguard, and now she would serve it at the soon-to-be Princess' side as her lady-in-waiting.

However, their mode of travel from Sunspear to King's Landing did not make Ashara happy. Even in Starfall they'd heard rumors of the growing problems of piracy in the waters between Essos and Westeros. Ashara would much have preferred to travel to King's Landing by land, however there were fears that Elia, delicate flower that she was, would not do well on such a trip given its length.

So instead here they were on a ship surrounded by an honor guard fleet to make sure Elia got to her destination. As the weeks had gone by, Ashara had managed to relax, coming to the same rationale that Doran Martell must have, that even the most cocky of pirates would not go up against ten to one odds. She'd gotten to know Elia better, despite the woman having several years on her, and it looked like everything might just go smoothly, both on the trip to King's Landing, and in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms itself.

So when a ship was sighted on the horizon, Ashara thought nothing of it, dismissing it as readily as both Elia and the Captain did. When it continued on a collision course for the fleet, the Captain began taking notice, and directed two of the fleet's ten ships to move into its way so that it would change course. Only, that did not happen, as the three ships got closer and closer together, until suddenly men-shaped blurs were moving off of the singular ship and onto the other two boats, and screams began sounding out, along with what seemed to be battle.

It would seem that this one pirate ship was indeed willing to go up against ten to one odds, and while the Captain remained confident at first, Ashara and Elia were treated to an unbelievable sight as three more of the ten ships in the fleet went in and were summarily quieted by the single pirate ship, before it continued its path towards them, the silent and motionless boats behind it making the entire situation far more disturbing.

Things looked to be laid to rest however, when the Captain finally made a better decision, and had scorpions wheeled onto the decks of the remaining five ships and aimed at the approaching pirate vessel. The ends of the projectiles loaded into the siege weapons were lit and dozens of large flaming arrows were launched at the wooden ship.

Many missed, but enough hit that the ship caught flame almost immediately, and burned fast. A second volley was fired shortedly after the first, but the pirate's vessel was already falling apart a surprisingly impressive rate, as if no one onboard was even trying to put out the fires. There was a cheer that went up from the sailors around them, and Ashara knew that her own face was probably mirroring the relief that she saw on Elia's when she glanced over at the older woman.

That relief was short lived though, as someone called out that they were seeing strange fast moving shapes in the water. Ashara could only watch in muted horror as the sinking boat seemed to disgorge a dozens of these dark shapes, which then spread out, heading right at the five ships left in the escort fleet. They moved too fast to escape from, and so all the Dornish Sailors could do was wait to see what was to come.

What came were monsters shaped like men, who leapt clean out of the water and onto the decks of the ships around them. Neither Elia or Ashara had time to react beyond rearing back away from the railing as one of those monsters landed right next to them, and in one casual swipe removed the Captain's head from his body.

Neither noblewoman could keep the high pitched scream from escaping their lips at the sight, but that just drew the monster's attention to them. He was a dark-skinned man, and if Ashara was thinking more clearly, she would have probably noted that he looked to hail from the Summer Isles. Of course, she wasn't and neither was the Princess, both of them stumbling backwards only to fall on their asses as the man-shaped creature walked up to them.

Leaning in as they began to hyperventilate, his nostrils flared as if tasting their scent before finally he spoke, his lips curling in a mocking grin, "Stay."

Ashara was an intelligent girl, and she'd been told Elia was clever and witty despite her fragile health but neither of the two women had anything to say to that, nor did they make any efforts to move from where they'd fallen, beyond shifting slightly to huddle closer together. Elia's eyes squeezed tightly shut, but Ashara's were wide open as both sat frozen in terror, the ships around them filled with the sounds of a slaughter.

Eventually they were pulled up off the ground by a few of the monsters and brought before the one that seemed to be in charge. He was dark skinned as well, but his eyes were black and gold and blood caked his chin right below where fangs descended from his upper row of teeth. Those unnatural inhuman eyes took in the sight of the two frightened noblewomen. Elia shied away from the hungry look, but Ashara had calmed ever so slightly.

She watched the way the demon's eyes trailed over their bodies before he spoke, "Well, it isn't so often we run into such beautiful specimens out here in the water. You know, there was no treasure on any of the boats. Many of the sailors even fought more like soldiers. This fleet was escorting something somewhere, but what could it be? I suspect you know, don't you?"

Elia was nonresponsive, so it fell to Ashara to hold her head up high and reply, "W-we don't know what you're talking about."

That gets a raised eyebrow, "Oh you don't do you? You two aren't anyone special then, hm? Then I suppose your looks alone are your value to us. Based on that, you should sell well at the auction back in the Free Cities. Your friend on the other hand probably won't, she looks far too fragile. I'm not even sure she'll survive the trip there."

The words, coyly said, strike deep fear in Ashara's heart, even as Elia whimpers, showing she's at least hearing what's being said. Swallowing thickly, Ashara changes tact, "Please. I am Lady Ashara Dayne of House Dayne and this is Princess Elia Martell of Dorne. O-our families would pay much to get us back."

The grin on the smug bastard looming over them gets wider as she speaks. After a moment, he straightens up and nods to a nearby comrade, "Take these women down below, I'm sure they have personal quarters. Watch them. We set sail for Tyrosh. The Messenger will decide what is to be done with the lady and the princess."

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Much to the surprise of both noblewomen, the next two weeks were not the terrible torturous hell they were each expecting. Instead, they found themselves treated as befit their station. If they weren't locked inside their cabin, Ashara could have even fooled herself into thinking nothing was wrong and they were still on their way to King's Landing.

The monsters in men's skin were perfect gentlemen, though she knew when they claimed to be merely watching the women to make sure they weren't trying anything funny, that they were really leering at them. But that was all they did, simply look. There were no suggestive comments, and no aggressive moves made towards either woman's body. Their leader, the dark-skinned man who had introduced himself as Captain Quhuru Mo of the Summer Isles when he first came to check on them after everything, treated Elia like the delicate flower she was, while treating Ashara herself almost as an equal, never speaking down to her.

It was more than she got from the men in her life, and wasn't that disturbing, that she could find more respect and appreciation for her intelligence over her body from pirates than from knights? Then again, these were no ordinary pirates, that much was obvious. They might act the picture of perfect politeness now, but Ashara would never forget what she saw them do, nor their true demonic faces hidden under the more congenial human ones.

Neither would Elia, the poor thing. Despite the princess being Ashara's clear senior, it was Ashara who had had to take charge and become Elia's rock after what they'd witnessed. It was her who got Elia to eat and drink after the demon captain had made thinly veiled comments towards the consequences that would come from the Princess' health deteriorating further. It was her who Elia cuddled up against when she woke up screaming in the middle of the night from the nightmares the demons had left her with.

Ashara was Elia's foundation throughout the voyage to Tyrosh, the last normal thing the poor girl could cling to. That was perhaps why Elia made such a fuss when they finally made landfall and the monsters tried to separate them. Captain Mo had calmly explained that his liege, whoever that was, wished to speak with Elia alone. Elia had responded with such negativity that even Ashara was taken back.

This was the girl who had shied away from even the most gentle and peaceful movements from the monsters that had kept them captive for the last two weeks. Now, upon hearing that they would be separated, she was in the Captain's face screaming at him, despite a clear height difference. It was a side of Elia no one there had seen before, including Ashara.

Perhaps that was why it worked, the demons so taken aback that they actually followed the Princess' demands and allowed Ashara to go with her as Elia was led to where ever this mysterious Messenger was awaiting them. That turned out to be some sort of cross between a barn, cave, and dungeon, a large stone circular structure with high windows and what seemed to be a partially open ceiling.

The structure's purpose was fairly obvious once they were escorted inside. After all, the first thing they saw was a man with long blonde hair seemingly communing with a dragon the size of a small horse. His forehead was rested against it, and a low rumbling sound filled the room that from what Ashara could tell, came from the dragon itself. Was it happy or something?

Also, by the Seven, that was an actual dragon! Sure, there'd been rumors trickling in over much of the last year, far too many to discount them as false any longer. It was said that King Aerys was incensed when the rumors were finally confirmed by his Spider. Old Valyria was rising once more, and the dragons had returned with it.

But Ashara never expected to find a dragon in the den of some demon pirate lord. Of course, then Quhuru Mo called out to the man who seemed to be bonded with the creature, and he turned to reveal a face that shouted Targaryen at a first glance. Judging by Elia's sharp intake of breath at the handsome features that were revealed Ashara figured she had the same initial impression.

On second glance, the man was clearly not a full blooded Targaryen. There was softness to Targaryen faces, even the male ones. This man had the light blonde hair, but a more masculine jawline. Ashara took the man in even as he split from his dragon, which slipped away into the shadows without another glance back. She could objectively admit that he was handsome, especially when he smiled as he approached them.

His dimples would be adorable in any other situation, and he had a strange sort of boyish charm to him that seemed to run counter to the authority he radiated in sheer waves. As he came to a stop before them, Ashara could see curiosity in his eyes, as his brow furrowed and he asked Quhuru Mo a question in a language she did not understand.

A glance at Elia showed that she wasn't following the conversation either as the two men spoke back and forth for several minutes. The glance also revealed that Elia was far more affected by the dragon tamer's looks than she should have been, a growing blush suffusing her cheeks as she stared far longer than was appropriate at the man clearly in charge of the monsters who had captured them.

Ashara frowned, resolving to mention it to Elia later if they were given a moment alone together. The Princess was to marry Rhaegar Targaryen. She could not fall in love with a rogueish pirate lord who may or may not be from the seven hells.

Then of course, said rogue stepped forward, pleasant smile still on his face as he took first Elia's hands and then Ashara's in a gentle grasp, kissing the backs of both before finally speaking in the more comprehensible common tongue of Westeros.

"I find I must deeply apologize for the actions taken against you, my dear ladies. It would seem my men were overzealous in their hope for valuable treasure. They attacked your little fleet hoping to find gold or silver or jewels, but instead they found you. A misunderstanding of course, that's all. Word will be sent to Sunspear as well as King's Landing at once. If you are who you say you are, I am quite sure that a response will come quickly, and your kin will be here in all haste to retrieve you."

Ashara couldn't help but note that his voice was rather nice, even as she absorbed what he was saying. She comprehended quite well his words, the way he apologized for the misunderstanding, while at the same time acting as if it was perfectly fine and natural for his demons to regularly attack ten ship large fleets hoping for treasure. He was apologetic for their capture, but not apologetic that the attack had taken place, and Ashara could read that between the lines well enough to see that if they were proven to be lying about who they were, things would not go well for them.

Elia on the other hand was clearly a bit taken with the man, much to Ashara's dismay and slight irritation. The blush on Elia's face only grew more pronounced as the smile on their captor's face turned into a rogueish grin and he focused his attention solely on the princess.

"While we wait, you will of course be treated like guests in my home. I only ask that you not go wandering off, Niklaus is the least of your worries if you get lost without an escort."

That gets a bit of confusion from both women, but before either can voice it, the man elaborates.

"Niklaus is the dragon. How rude of me though, my name is Vali. I am called many titles, but if you cannot bring yourself to use my name, I would prefer you refer to me simply as Messenger."

Elia finally seems to find the courage to speak up, squeaking a bit as she gets out, "Why are you called the Messenger? What message do you have to deliver?"

Ashara can only watch as the newly named Vali chuckles a bit in response, and the princess seems even more taken in by the sound. Vali smiles and reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from Elia's eyes as he responds, "I will be glad to tell you, but first I think you both must be very hungry. Let us retire for an evening meal, and I shall tell you all about my message and the one who sent me to deliver it."

There's a glint in this Messenger's eyes that Ashara really doesn't like, as Vali concludes with a rather casual statement, while also leading them out of what can only have been a dragon's nest.

"In fact, there might just be a way I can make this silly misunderstanding up to you, my dear princess."

-x-X-x-

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