Fire and Blood

"I will take what is mine with fire and blood." –Daenerys Targaryen

~Prologue~

Eyes stared back at her; dead, blue eyes that matched the cold. They stared into the unseeing world and into her own soul. Nerthus shivered, wondering how these men died. They were garb in traveling furs – dark and bristly – all around their stick like bodies with blood matting the bristly fur nearest their hearts. Nerthus touched one and from his back poured white-silver arrows. She hissed, batting the arrows away.

"What is it?" Her brother, Elathan, asked as he raised his head from the other men. She turned, ebony scales flashing in the moonlight with eyes full of fright. Her brother, on the other hand, was paler than snow and in the moon's light he was glowing. He padded next to her, observing the men and the arrows – he frowned, "Mithril, they were hunting us."

"Hunting," Nerthus scoffed. "We are not game…"

She saw the men, each holding a weapon of the white-silver mithril. Her heart picked up its pace in her great chest. Their mother had been right; they were not a secret anymore. When the last of elves passed into the west, they took the secrecy of the dragons with them. Coruwen had left and entrusted Lord Bard II with their protection. Bard had long since passed and his son's son, and now there was nothing but cruelty in the South.

"Apparently they do, Nerthus," Elathan answered, his tail swiping the nearest man. The dead man tumbled to the ground, limbs limply flailing like wet strips of cloth. "The least you could do is burn them."

"Me?" Her voice rose in anger and Elathan smirked. Anger welled within her, coursing through her heart like fire through dry grass.

"I'm not a fire drake like our precious mother, sister," Elathan let out a deep laugh, a laugh that only made her anger boil faster and faster in her heart. Her body felt as though it would burn up, but when Elathan turned around to leave a pool of ice pooled in her gut. "You are not afraid of a few dead men, are you?"

She mustered the courage to say, "Hardly, now leave before I turn you into a sun spot."

"Yes, dear sister," Came the sickly sweet answer. He padded out of her line of sight, white scales making the moon pale in comparison.

Through much trepidation, she looked down at the men and their weapons of mithril and took a deep breath. They are dead, Nerthus, she thought over and over as she dragged them into a pile. All sets of their unseeing eyes looked at her, and she knew them to be dead but she still felt a sense of unease around them. She steeled herself, preparing to breathe fire on their lifeless bodies when a loud crack of lightning bit the air. She corkscrewed her head around with her gaze held on the eastern horizon.

Upon the velvet blanket of night and bead-like stars, Nerthus could see the faint outlines of lavender ribbons striking the ground in succession like a jagged dance. And then her eyes wandered to the rest of the Withered Heath. Thunderhead grey mountains stood like great, jagged teeth amongst the swooping ashen hills of the heath while patches of forests and white ash mingled with the mountainous regions. Nerthus remembered this place with a deep fondness stemming from her time as a dragonling, when life seemed easier and everyone did not look upon her family in horror. In her side vision, she saw the great tail of a white star blink into and out. A loud metal rustle shattered her thoughts.

The men had clasped their spears and swords in their hands and were hefting themselves up from the inelegant pile she had thrown them in. Her eyes widened in shock, heart racing as one picked up a crude iron bow and the quiver of mithril arrows. Her mind started to scatter when she thought about what she could do. Could she roar for Elathan? No, he would not come. Could she breathe fire on them and kill them? They avoided death once-.

She started to run.

Despite her lungs wanting to unleash their flame, she roared into the sky until the very muscle that drove her dragonfire cried for air. The men ran after her, spears leveled and swords raised in a barbaric way of fighting. Turning, she swiped at them with her talons, sending them skittering back but one raked his sword across her paws. She screamed as fire ran through the open wound, clamping her jaws down on hi – he tasted like rotten meat. A growl escaped her throat when a mithril spear pierced her side, and she wheeled around, teeth flashing to take a hold of the men. And then a roar touched her senses, she froze.

From the dark forest burst her sister, Zorya, with green fire slipping from her clenched, black teeth. Her yellow eyes locked on Nerthus and then on the men. She let out a curse, running at the men with such speed that Nerthus swore she saw green lightning in place of her sister. , The green princess leapt at one with her wings outstretched and claws dug into the chest of one man, ripping out blue-black ribbons from his body. One drove his sword into Zorya's fanned tail and she howled with her head thrown back. Yellow eyes flashed back and swiped her tail across the ground, sending the man to collide with a nearby tree.

A shot of pain drew Nerthus from her sister to look at the archer. He had leveled an arrow to her belly with the mithril tip of the arrow glinting the moonlight. Her chest heaved with the tremors of her wounds, and her wings were open wide, revealing the thin, leathery skin stretched between hollow bones. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat, what could she do if he fired? If he loosed his arrow, aiming for her chest, she would die.

"Nerthus, run!" Zorya shouted as her head craned up. Nerthus nearly choked on the bile that crawled up her throat – her sister's snout was no longer green but rather blacker than night.

"What about you?" Nerthus answered back, keeping her tone level.

Zorya smiled wickedly, black teeth shiny like polished swords, "It will take more than a dead man walking to kill me, sister."

Nerthus did not answer, for she knew that Zorya could at least fend off the archer. With that thought locked in her mind, she flexed her wings and watched the man at her feet, his icy, dead eyes watching her intensely as though he would truly shoot her. Her eyes focused on his hands when she saw the slight lower of the bow – his hands shook like thin limbs in the breeze. She took the chance to swipe at his feet with her tail, causing him to tumble to the ground and fled into the safety of the air. She hovered away from the archer's view of her to scan the area. Fire scarred her home – pillars of red-orange fire kissed the night air replacing its relaxing, pine scent with that of putrid smoke. A roar rattled her blood alive – her mother was roaring… Her wings suddenly became full of man's steel, forcing her to land in a long since abandoned cavern.

She let out a raspy cough as her lungs tightened, crying out for air. She shook her head and smoke flew out of her mouth. Nerthus let out a heavy sigh, thinking. Her home was burning, her brothers were gone, and her sister was fending off an archer so she could escape. Her mind thought of questions that began to compile upon each other. A loud thump was heard above her, and the granite screamed as something raked its nails above.

"I know you're here, little princess," A sickly, soothing voice cooed above her. Nerthus' heart began to race, and she dove back into the furthest corner of the cave to allow her black scales to hide her from whatever sat above her. The rocks cracked, bouncing down on the ledge that led out – the only way out. In the dim light, Nerthus saw grey claws curl around the top of the opening followed by a snake like head covered in fish scales and grey like the thunderclouds. Its beady eyes blinked, and its long, hooked claws curled around the top of the entrance. "Come out, come out… I can smell your fear."

Nerthus refused to take the bait but her eyes narrowed. She watched the creature closely as it flopped down onto the ledge, limbs grappling to pulls its lengthy body onto the ledge. It looked like the fell beasts her mother had spoken of – scaled like a fish and long like serpents – but the creature's eyes were bright silver and her head more elegant like a swan's.

The creature's eyes locked with hers, spooking her half way into her grave, and the creature spoke, "There you are. You have your grandfather's eyes, those beautiful red eyes."

Nerthus rose as defiance sparked in her veins like white-hot liquid, black-violet flame starting to form on her lips. She snarled and lunged forward without a word. Her watcher pressed a grey claw into her face, the beast's claws grated on her scales. Nerthus could feel the resistance used to keep her away. The beast smiled.

"You look like him too, how ironic…," The creature trailed off as though in thought. The creature's eyes blinked, observing her closely. "Do you know who I am?"

"Nay, never have met you in my life!" Nerthus growled. Black poured into her vision yet she could still see the outline of the creature.

"I am Castamere," Castamere answered in her ear. Her voice made Nerthus shiver, her voice was an icy wind and Nerthus was a human in the midst of it. A deep roar made Castamere look away and into the sky. "He calls for us."

"Us?" Nerthus echoed, nearly hissing as Castamere's nails dug into her skull. She ignored the pain that blazed under her skin and the fear that made her blood icy. Her lungs took rapid, shallow breaths because of the fear, but her lungs let out a strangled cry when Castamere dragged her up the cliff face and over to her mother's hold.

Her mother's hold was decorated with carvings of dragon history that her father had made with his claws, a few shiny objects that her mother had procured over the course of two centuries, and a long string of gold orbs with large indents. The last item was a gift from the dwarves of Erebor; they had re-forged an important necklace that once belonged to Ancalagon. But Nerthus saw that the necklace was not sitting its usual place on a large slab of rock. No, the necklace rested around a neck of black.

Castamere smiled, tossing Nerthus into the room like a limp doll. Refusing to cry out in pain as pebbles wiggled their way under her skin, she drew herself up. She cursed under her breath, shaking the blood from her eyes to look up at her mother, father, and two brothers. Southern men held chains of white-silver mithril in their hands that climbed up to the necks of her family. One strode forward, clasping the same chain necklace around her broken scales. Too weak to snarl or bite, she hung her head. The princess's heart shuddered with fear as a low laugh played on the crackle of the fire in the room.

An ebony claw snaked out of the darkness to raise her gaze to a second set of eyes. It spoke in a honeyed voice, "An incarnation of Ancalagon himself… How… Cute, Freya."

"Leave Nerthus alone," Freya commanded, amber eyes glowing like illuminated suns in the blaze of the fire. "You came for me, remember?"

Nerthus saw the eyes turn from Freya and noticed their color – a pale, sickly green brighter than the grass in spring. The claw that held her gaze dropped from her chin causing her head to drop to the floor in a heavy thump that jarred her whole head. She tried to lift her head, but it was to no avail. Her muscles were heavier than lead, her neck stiff and wings unable to flex from her back. Her nails dug into the stone in anger as she berated herself for being utterly useless.

"I did, but seeing as you are claimed -," He was cut off by her mother's heavy scoff and nearly bitter laugh. "Have I said something to amuse you, pet?"

"Aye, you damned fool. Bonding never mattered to you before – why choose now to go back to customs? You seemed not to hear my mother screaming for you to stop, or to see the fury in my father's eyes," Freya said icily. Her mother's rosewood scales turned nearly black as a shadow passed over her face. The flicker of challenge passed in her eyes, "So why now, wyrm?"

Nerthus frowned at her mother's statement, and she could only see the neck of the wyrm that stretched from the shadows. He was heavily decorated in gold and jewels, but his original scale color could be seen. He seemed to be made of pure shadow, or rather a mere extension of the shadows that loomed nearby. He cocked his head to the side in inquisition, jewelry laughing.

The wyrm's gold claw shot out and scratched her mother across the face, leaving oozing black marks on her face. Freya only snarled with a mask of pure wickedness on her face. Nerthus felt fear climb its way back into her chest to rake its claws across her heart. In her mind, she was screaming for this to be a dream but when her father howled in pain as he struggled against the chains, she knew it not to be a dream. She knew because her father had burns on his emerald scales in the shape of chains and the men below howled with laughter sending japes up at her father, who remained stoic despite the sizzling marks on his face. For a moment, she locked eyes with him and she saw the flickers of pain, worry, and heartache in their sun yellow depths.

She tore her gaze from her father to look into the eyes of the wyrm once more. His claws took her face, digging into her scales. She swallowed hard, finding his eyes almost sickening to look into. His gaze almost made her skin crawl, and she could not wiggle out of his grip to look away. His breath passed over her face smelling of death and smoke and her stomach flip-flopped in her gut.

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice tiny.

"I want people to know what has come again," The wyrm said with a smile and he lowered his snout to her ear to whisper, "I want to let them know I have come again."

A/N:Greetings everyone! I have returned from the dead along with the New Year! Yes, say hello to Fire and Blood - the third and final piece to Coruwen's tale. As always, if you would like to follow me on Tumblr, please look me up as Flameangel24, I'd love to answer questions or just to hear from you. :)

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May our adventure move onward! -Angel