Chương 26: Chapter 26-A Journey too Late!
Chapter 26
On the shores of Meereen, a dozen or so ships stood ready to set sail as men poured into the ships by the hundreds, armored and burnt each bearing a scald on their faces showing their devotion to the man who had freed them.
"You do not need to do this, Morro. The blockade by the slave masters will sink many ships; I will be fine on my own," he said, yet the man shook his head.
"That is why we are using more ships than we need. We are going to break through that blockade," he said confidently.
"This is my fight. There is no need for you to involve yourself in it," Daemon tried to persuade him against this, yet the man smirked.
"You fought for us, fought for our freedom when you did not need to. You gave us all a chance at a life we never could have imagined for ourselves or for our children. This is nothing in comparison to that," Morro said, and Daemon smiled. He nodded and turned towards the rest of the Thirteen, all of whom had given what they could to him.
"We will all wait eagerly for the news of your victory," Nycho said as Daemon shook hands with each and every one of them.
"I leave Meereen in your hands," he said as he stepped back.
"No mercenary group, or khalasaar shall take up arms against you after the precedent I have made for them. But this will not hold for long, use the time I have bought you to shore up defenses, train men and women, and make alliances where you can," he advised them, and they nodded.
"We shall heed your words," said and he hoped they did.
"When I succeed, I shall have my envoy sent to you, and we shall join hands. The might of House Targaryen and the Seven Kingdoms shall stand behind you in your freedom," he assured them, and they nodded.
"And so shall our Halls remain open to you. The Council of Meereen will always have a seat for you and your descendants. The Liberator and his kin shall have a place in Meereen as long as a free Meereen stands," they announced, and this was more symbolic, for there was little chance that he would ever return to Meereen.
"I am honored by the gesture," with that, a man stepped forward carrying a small box as Morro stepped forward.
"We know that you shall have a crown of your own, but we wanted to give you a tribute for what you have done for us," he opened the box, and Daemon was surprised by what he saw inside.
"The treasuries of the Masters we looted had little Valyrian Steel knick-knacks. After gathering it all, it was enough to create this pair," and two objects in the box lay right there.
They could have kept a sword and a mask, both with the characteristic smoke pattern of Valyrian Steel, and used them for themselves.
Yet Daemon felt a connection to the steel as he touched it. He could see the thoughtfulness in the design and craftsmanship that had gone into these two things.
"I shall take them," he said as he took the box.
"But not as Daemon Targaryen but as the Liberator and the Fourteenth. In my demise, shall a sire of mine wish to take that mantle, he shall come to Meereen wielding these very gifts."
0000
ARTHUR DAYNE
They had ridden hard, without stopping for only small breaks. The pat to Starfall had already been cleared away by Prince Oberyn, and any other bandit group they had met on the way had been slain by the King.
And now, as he looked at the King who rode ahead of them all as the castle had called his home once came into view, Starfall stood as it at the mouth of the Torrentine River with its three massive towers.
He saw Daemon pull on the reins of his horse.
"I know you are all tired. But our destination stands right there. We are nearly there," and the men roared as one, following their King who had ridden alongside them.
Yet Daemon had become quieter and quieter with every passing day, as Arthur tried to recall the last time he had been to Starfall and how his younger sister Allyria had cursed him vehemently for the pain he had brought to Ashara, named him a kinslayer and bid him never to come back.
It was said in rage, he knew. Rage at the sadness of Ashara, yet the words had taken a toll on him.
"Are you excited to be back?" Oswell Whent asked, and he shook his head.
"More filled with dread than excitement," he answered honestly. His brother knew why.
"The King, he rides like a man possessed," Oswell whispered.
"I am a knight, yet even I have never ridden so hard. I doubt anyone has ever travelled from Kingslanding to Dorne in such time," and that may as well be true. And he saw Oswell hesitate before he leaned closer and whispered.
"Is she really in as bad a condition as they say?" he asked, and Arthur could not say.
"Truth, is I do not know for myself," for he had received no letter from either Allyria or their father, though he knew that the man was in little condition to write anything.
As they crossed the bridge, he saw that an entourage was there to receive them, flying not only the banner of House Dayne, a falling star crossed with a long sword embroidered on a purple background, and besides that was the banner of House Martell of Dorne.
They rode forth as Arthur recognized the people that had come out to welcome them.
Even from the distance, he could make out his sister. She had grown up quite a bit from the last time he had seen her with her dark hair and amethyst eyes. Alongside her stood the Red Viper of Dorne, the younger brother of Prince Doran and Princess Elia, Obery Martell.
The King pulled on the reins of his horse stopping it infront of the retinue, as they all did the same and Allyria stepped forward.
"Starfall welcomes, your grace Daemon Targaryen to its Halls," she began as she curtsied and beckoned a servant to step forward and present the ceremonial bread and salt.
"My father, the Lord Dayne, would have come himself, but his ailments make it difficult for him to move, and he is bedridden because of a fall he suffered a few days ago. I beg for your grace's understanding in this regard," she said. Daemon jumped off his horse, picked up a piece of bread, and passed it to him. Arthur bit off a piece.
"There is no need for that," he said softly as he motioned for Allyria to stand up, and the rest of the retinue followed.
"I doubt any sane man could ever ride from Kingslanding to Starfall, in the same time as you, your grace," Oberyn Martell cut in, and he doubted whether the man cared for his life at all.
"And I am much thankful to you for that, Prince Oberyn," Daemon replied as he turned towards Allyria once more who had not cast a glance towards him even once.
"I have prepared rooms for you and your retinue, your grace. You should res...."
"I have not come here to rest," Daemon cut in, and he saw Allyria's lips thin as she looked down as Daemon stepped forward.
"Take me to her," he ordered, his voice stiff and cold.
"Your grace, you have ridden hard for days. You should re..."
"Allyria!" the King's voice boomed, yet contained no anger, only tiredness and frustration, and when she did not answer, he walked past her himself.
"Your grace..." and he saw her following him and turned towards Oswell.
"I need to go," and Oswell nodded.
"I will handle the rest, you go," and with that, he followed behind as Allyria followed behind Daemon.
"Allyria! Allyria!" he called out as his sister sobbed as she tried to pull back Daemon.
"Let him go. He is the King, Allyria. Please let him go. And while he doubted Daemon would ever raise his hand on Allyria given their shared history and whose sister she was, it was wrong," and he pulled her back and stopped her.
"He has ridden on horseback for days like a madman for one singular reason. You cannot stop him," he told her as she sobbed in his arms.
"He shouldn't see her like that. No one should," she sobbed.
"You cannot stop him," he said.
"But I must try for her," and with that, she followed behind Daemon, who had rushed up the stairs. He followed behind her, and soon enough, they found Daemon right outside Ashara's room.
"Stop. I beg you, on Ashara's name. STOP!" and he watched as Daemon's hands halted right on the door, as he turned and looked towards Allyria with a glare.
She was huffing now, as she shook her head.
"You should let her go. She would not want you to see her like that," she spoke softly, and he saw Daemon's hand quiver.
"It will break your heart," she begged.
"Already broken," and with that, he twisted the knob as he held Allyria's hand and shook his head.
"Let him go."
0000
DAEMON TARGARYEN
His heart had become more and more tumultuous as he got closer and closer to Starfall. His sense of guilt, rage, and longing overpowered him as he pushed open the door to Ashara's room, and immediately, a sense of wrongness and death greeted him.
Each step weighed him down, both because of his own guilt and because of the curse that had taken root in her, and as he glanced at her, his heart pained, and his breaths halted.
The one beautiful Ashara Dayne had been reduced to a husk of skin and bones, and yet not even skin. Half her face was covered in thick bark-like cracked texture, one characteristic of greyscale, and yet in between those cracks, one could see an orange hue, as if a fire burned on her skin, feasting on it, devouring it by the second.
It gleamed and flicked like fire, and as he walked up to her, he could feel his own body begin to heat up. The room flickered as he walked to her bedside, with a heavy heart, burning with desire and anger at what had become of the woman he had loved and the part he had played in it.
"I am sorry," he gasped as he held her hand, which had become only thin and bones but felt so familiar, so loving, so forgiving.
"But I am here now. I will save you. I will," he said as a tear slid down his eyes. He stood up, took out his sword, and placed it in his hand, and cut.
DRIP. DRIP. DRIP.
Blood began to drip down his hand, and suddenly, he felt all the light in the room vanish, darkness and shadows filled the room, and a heavy presence filled the room, and he watched as Ashara opened her eyes, yet this was not her.
She did not have those haunting purple eyes, not the eyes he had seen twice now, the eyes Morro had possessed when.
"So, you are finally here? Dragonlord," the Red God spoke as Ashara's eyes burned in fire.
"Leave her," Daemon snarled as his fingers tightened on the hilt of his blade.
"And why should I," he taunted, his voice a deep rumble as Ashara's body straightened.
"After all, it is only my own power that is keeping her alive, keeping her tethered to this world," he taunted, and he gritted his teeth.
"And it was also your own powers that brought her to this state. So, I say leave her, and give me whatever test you wish to, and leave her or I shall make it my life's purpose to end you and your whole religion," Daemon threatened and the smile vanished from that face, a smile that had felt so wrong on her face.
"You dare!" he roared.
"Yes, I dare," Daemon roared back as the whole castle shook.
"You would put the whole world in jeopardy because of one woman. This woman, who may not even love you, may even hate you for what you have done," and Daemon's heart tightened at those words, for doubt crept up inside him. Doubts that he had fought with.
"She may may detest me, yet I care little for that. I love her and will do so until the last breath I draw," Daemon answered as he looked into those fiery eyes.
"So, leave her!" he roared as the ruby on his sword glew, and a gale erupted in the room, and the Red God stopped as he walked up to him and halted inches from his face.
"Then look into my eyes," he did, and he found his surroundings shifting as the world around him shifted, and soon enough, he found himself in a field of fire, as visions swiveled in his consciousness, visions of himself, of Ashara.
He saw himself fighting, losing against enemies from across the narrow Sea. He saw himself dying, getting killed, by Blackfyres, watched his body own body burn again, and the agony seeped into his very bones.
"You have many enemies, each stronger than the other," came a whisper as a shadow in Ashara's form passed by his side, and then he saw himself dying once more, this time by the hands of Lords of Westeros, his own head mounted on a spike as Tywin Lannister and the other Great Lords rejoiced, he saw Elia, her children and his own mother amongst the dead, killed brutally.
"And yet you yearn for her, selfishly. Yearn for something that could forsake the world," and then the vision shifted as he found himself thrust into a world of Ice, dead and broken as millions lay dead behind him as the Night King approached him, looking down at him with those blue eyes.
"And yet it could all change, change so easily," he said. Then the visions shifted again, and he saw himself atop a dragon, a very large dragon whose scales were a shining silver. He saw himself triumph over the Blackfyres, the lords, and even Death itself. He saw himself surrounded by riches and women, beautiful women as if carved by the God of Beauty itself.
He saw himself, without the mask, skin unblemished, and uncharred his body better than it was meant to be, filled with power and vigor.
"You could have it all," the whispers continued.
"All of it, yet you deny yourself your salvation," the whispers continued.
"I care little for my own salvation, for I shall walk to my own doom. Tell me what I must do to save her?" he asked.
"You will risk it all, a dragon, absolute power, wealth, and beauty for one woman! A woman who detests you," and his breath hitched as he saw Ashara appear infront of her, as she had in that Black Cell.
"I hate you! You destroyed me! You turned me into this, this monster! Leave me!" she roared, and it was her voice, a voice he had yearned for all these years.
"Tell me what to do?" he asked again as he closed his eyes.
"I want nothing to do with you! I pray that you rot in hell! Love you! Have you looked at yourself!" she continued.
"Tell me What to DO!" he spoke again and heard the sound of cracks.
"You are nothing more than a monster! AS IF I WOULD EVER LOVE A MONSTER AS HIDEOUS AS YOU!"
"TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" he roared and felt the world around him shatter, and he opened his eyes, and this time he found himself face to face with Ashara, yet this was her, the real her.
And as their eyes melt.
"Daemon."
"Ashara."
0000
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