Disclaimer: All characters and situations are property of the respective owners of the amazing works of Harry Potter and A Song of Ice and Fire.
Intertwined souls
"Did any of you see a toad?" The unknown girl asks in a slightly bossy tone of voice.
She was already wearing her school outfit, one identical to the one I had purchased on my visit to Diagon Alley.
Behind her bushy brown hair, you could make out the boy who had been left without his frog.
"Neville has lost his." She continues as she inspects the compartment with her eyes.
"We had already told him that we did not see it," Ron replies in a voice that did not hide impatience, probably because he had been abruptly interrupted.
My eyes were still fixed on the strange girl, who now had her gaze directed at Ron's wand.
"Are you doing magic?" She adds with eyes full of admiration now.
"Go ahead then." She ends saying with a smile slowly forming on her lips.
She still seems unaware of my existence, and for some reason, I couldn't ignore hers, not for a second.
"Uhm... all right," Ron answers, now nervously accommodating his words.
Curiosity seems to have broken the spell I was subjected to, and my eyes follow the same path the girl's go.
Seeing that he now had everyone's attention, Ron clears his throat and says. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." And as he concludes he gives one last wave with his wand.
But nothing happened.
Scabbers kept the same grey colour and still seemed to be in the middle of some dream.
"Are you sure it is a real spell?"
The silence that the failed attempt had characterized the scene in the last seconds was again interrupted by the girl.
"Well, it doesn't seem like a good one, does it?"
My eyes go back to hers quickly and that glow that coupled them seems to have disappeared and her voice now disguised a condescending tone.
"I have tried some simple ones and they have all worked for me." She continues, relentlessly.
With a few steps, the girl approaches and sits in front of me.
"For example." She whispers, staring into my eyes, and with a wave of her right arm, she directs her wand towards my face. "Oculus reparo."
A small light forms at the tip of her wand and just as quickly as it had appeared, vanished.
The silence present in the next few moments seemed to respond to the assumption that we were facing another failed attempt at magic, but the "complete" image that I now perceived and the smile full of vanity that the girl now favoured seemed to contradict it.
"Now is better, right?" she asks without avoiding giving Ron a brief glance.
I didn't react and offer any kind of reply to her query. I just sat there surprised to see another expression of magic.
"No one in my family has magic, so it was a big surprise when I received my letter, but I was very happy, of course. It's the best magic school there is, that's what they told me. "
After winning my attention back with her words, I cannot help but be overwhelmed by how fast she spoke, until today I did not know that it was possible to do it up to those limits and without taking time to take a breath.
"I know all the books of our year by heart, I hope that is enough." She ends up with a bit of uncertainty in her gestures.
Besides how surprising it was to me that someone had read all the books completely when the school year haven't even started, I couldn't help but notice that she also had the innate ability to pronounce the words that came to mind almost instantly as she didn't know when to stop.
She also adapted the tone of her voice depending on what she said, changing from enthusiasm and certainty to apathy and uncertainty rapidly.
Having already finished her monologue, the girl forms the biggest smile I have ever seen in my life and leaves me perplexed for a few seconds.
It is fascinating how that little action seems to have changed the scene we all were part of.
As if the sun has just risen.
"By the way, my name is Hermione, what is yours?"
It takes me an extensive period to determine that the question was directed at me since I had been pondering the reasons why that name seemed so special or a justification for why it made me feel good to hear someone articulate it.
As if all my life I've been waiting for this occasion.
That feeling seems to have hit my whole being because I don't know how and where the confidence came from to reply with a tonality that I was unaware that my voice had.
"My name is Harry."
I, for some reason, feel coerced to smile, forgetting, for the period my eyes laid towards Hermione, everything but her.
Syrior I
Malon was right.
The place is really beautiful.
Well, it wasn't that word he used to describe it, but I assume that's what he meant.
The climate of Lys has always been pleasant as it had that common sultry weather this region was known for, but here, on these plains, it did not reach the excesses that in other places made it overwhelming.
The cold air that came from the sea was refreshingly amiable too.
Our host was small, we had foreseen that we would arrive far more rapidly that way.
The beats of my heart were getting briefer than each other, in correlation with the shortness of the distance to our destination.
I had anticipated this meeting from the moment I received the message.
And why would I not do it?
I always kept a small number of friends, and after the fall of the Empire, that number dwindled even further.
Malon might be cruelly annoying at times, with a horrendous sense of humour, but behind it all, he was my friend.
More than that, hearing from him made me entertain the notion in which Galaenar is still alive.
As far-fetched as the very idea may seem.
The nobles of Valyria have been hunted in the latest years.
Following Aurion's attempt to retake Valyria, which is assumed to have been a failure, there was no news of any other dragon lord.
The Targaryens were still hiding in Dragonstone, which apparently was far enough away for the rest of the world to forget about them.
Being already close to the state I can discern Malon waiting at the entrance wearing that expressionless face that defined him.
Beside him was a beautiful woman with long silver hair dressed in the finest garb.
A noble?
With the Maltanis you never know.
Eager, I dismount my horse and Vario with the rest of our company imitate me immediately.
Where are the others?
I get closer impatiently, forgetting all manner of bearing, my steps seem to become gallops and my eyes begin to water.
"Are you crying?!" I hear Malon pronounce, changing his impassive gesture to one of horror.
Having no intention to let him have time to say more, I spread my arms and squeeze my friend between them.
"I thought I had lost you." I pronounce with my voice crumbling in strength, leaving a barely audible whisper.
These last few years have been sombre due to the anxiety that permeated not knowing anything about my friends.
On one hand, the uncertainty allowed me to yearn that they had been able to escape and that they had done the right thing by going to anonymity.
In which case, I would only have to wait patiently for when it was safe for them to give signs of life.
On other hand, even for how well-known the persecution of the dragon lords was, the details were always kept hidden. No one presumed to have ended a noble lineage because, even now, nobody had overcome the inherent fear that centuries of subordination conceived the nobles of Valyria in all their subjects.
Only one of them mounted on one of their beasts was enough to retaliate against those who perpetrated the greatest act of treachery.
Thus, the years of silence could also be the result of a misfortune.
Reading his letter was not enough and seeing him was not enough either.
Now that I can feel him, my heart begins to beat to the usual rhythm.
He is alive.
"You are ruining my outfit." I hear Malon complain, and I can't help but smile at those words.
In times of great change like these, hearing something so peculiar of him only increased my enthusiasm.
However, even though my heart asked me for a little more time, my mind seemed to want to give in to his intrinsic request.
Giving him one last squeeze, I decide to free Malon to adjust my appearance better.
My eyes wander around in search of a familiar face.
"Why did you take so long to send word to me?"
I knew it was a senseless question, but my mouth always seems to fail at times like this.
It would make even more sense if they had taken longer since it was still not safe.
Although as far as the Maltanis are concerned, it may never be again.
"That letter had been written seven years ago."
I stopped whatever line of thought I had in mind at the time upon hearing that.
The only reason Malon would have felt the need to write me so promptly was if they were in imminent danger but having him here leads me to assume that he had solved the problem.
Have I failed them again?
My body goes numb a bit, and I feel my blood losing the heat that the weather has made me used to feel.
"It was dangerous to send it, with Volantis so close and the smell of an early rebellion in the air."
Lys was in a more precarious situation than Myr, because, being an island, the means of moving something outside was limited to the sea, which was under the strict supervision of the volantese.
The letter was delivered to me anonymously, and whoever was the intermediary is someone powerful considering that I have had to exchange many favours to come here.
The tigers are paranoid.
"I understand," I respond with my mind plagued by frustration.
Realizing that I had lost myself in my thoughts for a period, and seeing that Malon was looking at me confused, I avert my eyes and direct them to the person who was accompanying him.
Trying to stop feeling disgusted by myself, I force a smile and formulate a question in an effort to change the topic of the conversation. "And who is this beautiful maiden, Malon?"
"Elaerys." I hear Malon's reply, which seems to have been delivered hastily.
Surprised by the tone, I glance at Malon and it's thanks to the many years I've been interacting with him that I can see a bit of unease on his normally unexpressive face.
"A pleasure to meet you, my lord Syrior." An angelic voice reminds me that I was forgetting my manners.
When was it that I started worrying about Malon over a beautiful woman in front of me?
"No, no, someone as beautiful as you just needs to call me Syrior." I instinctively manifest, in the wake of the countless times I uttered that phrase.
And likewise, guided by habit, I reach out my hand and take hers.
"As I am certain we'll get along very well," I say as I lean in to give her the final courtship, without taking my eyes off hers.
She seems surprised, for some reason.
"You will learn to ignore him." Malon helpfully adds.
He seems to be angry, for some other reason.
For a period, craving to give reason to Malon's change of mood, silence dominates the scene.
My eyes remain focused on his and after a few moments later I win the staring contest making him flinch and look away, but sporadically glancing at Elaerys in the middle of that reaction.
The answer seems to suddenly reveal itself with those actions, my eyes exchange orientation between her and him.
They both seem to be uncomfortable.
Smiling from ear to ear I begin my torture.
"Malon..."
"The children are doing their assignments." He interrupts me, turning around and heading toward the fiefdom.
However, even though I couldn't see his face, I can still see how his ears seem to have taken a new shade of red, which makes the circumstances more hilarious.
Oh, Malon, you dog...
"Follow me." He commands, from a distance he assumes is enough to keep him safe from me.
Wait, children?
Quickening my pace, I cut the distance between Malon and me.
Being by his side, I turn and nod my head towards Vario who understands what I meant and wheels to give orders to the rest of our group.
"Children?" I ask, confused by that word, does it mean... "Galeon?"
My heart beats rapidly again and my chest loses size.
To say that in those moments I felt uncontrollable happiness seems to underestimate what I was experiencing.
Galaenar.
Without realizing it, I was now in the middle of Malon's path, my hands on his shoulders.
"Does that mean…?"
I cannot finish the question due to the sudden change that my words had with Malon.
His eyes were now looking down, something he always did when he felt ashamed.
"I see," I whisper not knowing what else to say.
Surprisingly I did not feel sad, but the bliss that I had moments before had disappeared.
Now I felt that I was missing something; no, that emptiness seemed to be familiar, something that was always present or missing, and that only up to this moment I had been ignoring.
Had I already given up on them?
Still, without saying a thing, Malon takes my hands and separates them from his shoulders as he takes a step to the side and continues with his course.
I have failed them.
My body reacts to my frustration and uses force I didn't know I had to make fists as if self-inflicted pain could make things better.
Would I have been able to save them?
Deep down I knew that was unlikely, but the least they deserved from me was to try, even at the cost of my life.
I know Galaenar would have done it for me.
He was that kind of person.
No.
All my friends were that kind of person.
My anger seemed to dilute and little by little morphed into melancholy remembering the expression that Malon had had a few moments ago.
As similar as our feelings and pain is now, I know it must have affected him even more.
He always took care of us.
And for Malon, there was nothing more important than Galaenar.
I am sorry, my friend.
I don't know for how long I was unmoving, because the loneliness I felt in those moments made me lose perception of it, even interest in knowing it.
My friends are gone.
Yet Galeon is alive.
Recovering from that little realization, I notice that someone was looking at me.
I had completely forgotten about Elaerys, who was standing near with her eyes directed towards me displaying compassion.
Feeling uncomfortable, I force a smile and open my mouth in an attempt to say something, but I can't do it.
I can not think of anything to say.
My hand impulsively goes to the back of my head and I lean a little to excuse the scene I had imposed her on and I turn and walk in the direction of Malon.
After a few steps, I make out my friend, who had stopped at the door of a room.
Moving closer I notice that his face had already lost the dark expression he had a moment ago and his lips were inclined more towards a smile now.
"This is not pronounced like that, Galeon." I manage to hear a high-pitched voice, full of daintiness that could only belong to a girl. "In this word, the last vowel is not pronounced."
Now seeing the same scene as Malon I can distinguish two little children sitting in front of a desk that was surrounded by books.
The boy says something that, due to the distance and the force in which he pronounces, I cannot differentiate well.
I assume that is because he is not yet fully confident in getting it right.
"Yes, like that!" The girl says emphatically, with a big contagious smile that soon takes effect on the little one she was talking to.
"The common tongue is very confusing, thank you Haelena."
And there it is, Malon's infamous and infrequent smile that was now not just a small attempt but a fully extended one.
Seeing it brought back memories that built even more nostalgia.
"Don't worry, you are improving fast." Says the little girl, in an attempt to raise his mood.
The boy seems to receive it in a good way and responds with a smile. "I still can't do it as well as you do."
She seems to take it as a compliment for her face gains a red tone and she turns her eyes downward, away from the child in front of her.
"That's just because I've practised more." She replies with a force that was more inclined to be a whisper.
Apparently, that was the perfect time to intervene, as I see that Malon approaching them.
"Children," Malon calls, gaining the attention of the two little students.
The girl is the first to stand up, which was almost immediately upon hearing Malon.
Her companion, however, looked at us before joining her in the same action.
Now that I can distinguish them better, I am pleasantly surprised by what I see.
She wore an elegant red sleeveless full-length dress that with her delicate features gave her a regal air that one finds in a princess, her eyes were deep purple and her hair colour was silver with a similar hue to Elaerys.
They look very alike, is she Malon's daughter?
Although I can't help but notice that, at first glance, there doesn't seem to be any similarity between her and him.
On the other hand, the boy wore a white jacket with dark pants that despite being less extravagant, compared to who was next to him, did not discredit his appearance.
His dark black hair seemed to have a difficult time taking shape and the characteristic features of Valyrian nobility strongly influenced his face.
His eyes though.
Those alone were peculiar to a single lineage among the four. A majestic emerald green colouration that made the dignified and proud badge of the Maltanis.
"It's like seeing Galaenar again." I exhale, unable to look away from Galeon.
Nonetheless, I could still see that there was much of his mother with him like the delicate features that made his father be completely at her mercy.
"Even though you have a lot of your mother's face, the eyes are..."
With a smile now on his face, Galeon finishes the phrase for me. "Just like my grandfather's."
"Yes," I answer him, returning the smile he was giving me.
It must be difficult for Malon to see this face constantly, reminding him of the family he lost.
His failure.
I know this because my heart feels confused right now.
I thought that the affinity he has with his parents should make me feel happy knowing that they still live with him.
Yet I feel that those eyes of his judge me.
Because they were indistinguishable from Galaenar's.
And I cannot conceive myself of being deserving of the smile that he has given me.
Because it is identical to his mother's.
Feeling my smile lose vigour I remember that I have failed with my manners again.
"Oh, I haven't introduced myself."
My mother must be writhing in her other life.
Approaching the little ones, I bow my head and bend my knee a little.
"My name is Syrior Zōbrie."
" Zōbrie?"
Returning to my normal demeanour, I turn my eyes to where the question came from.
It's funny that his father asked the same question the day we met.
"That's right, like the colour," I reply, now with a smile wrapped in nostalgia.
Taking a few more steps, I approach Galeon, extending my hand to greet him.
"Your father, Malon, and I have been friends for a long time," I add when the boy one returns the gesture.
"Not by choice." I hear Malon's murmur in a tone that wasn't low enough for the rest to avoid hearing it.
On purpose, no doubt.
And it is as a result of that comment that the room breaks in a shared laugh for a few moments.
"And who would this little scholar come to be?" I ask, now that the previous hubbub began to lose a bit of splendour.
The little girl reacts quickly and with a perfectly articulated curtsy catches the attention of everyone in the room.
"Nice to meet you, Lord Zobrie. My name is Haelena. "
My mother would have adored her.
Guided by her action, I decide to follow the formalism in an endeavour to not waste the effort put forth by her.
"The pleasure is mine, Lady Haelena."
She seems a bit surprised by my actions. As if she hadn't expected me to take her seriously.
Or as if she didn't expect me to be able to perform these formalities perfectly.
I am not so shameless as to forget everything that my parents stamped in me.
And more so when it was useful to gain the attention of the fairer gender.
"So, you say you knew my parents-" Galeon chimed in, his tone uneasy.
"Could you tell me something about them?" He begs as he positions himself in front of me as if that way I could not escape and refuse to answer his question.
"Malon never talks about them."
Instinctively, after hearing his name, I glance over at Malon and I see him flinch a bit at that statement.
Looking back at little Maltanis I nod.
"Of course, your father and I met..." I was saying until Malon interrupted putting his hand on my shoulder.
"That conversation will have to be postponed until the end of your lessons, my lord." He asserts, dissolving Galeon's enthusiasm.
And there he is, Malon, the usual party pooper.
"Just this once, Malon." The boy pleads, now with his eyes focused on the tyrant.
Mine also accompany him in that movement and it seemed that Malon's discomfort increased progressively with the passage of time in which he was the focus of attention of the heir.
Glancing at Galeon, I notice a smile making way on his lips.
This kid…
"Please."
Knows what he is doing...
And there he is too, Malon, the weak-minded one.
Well, weak as soon as a Maltanis is involved, as I have first-hand experience of just how stubborn he can be.
Seeing that my friend is about to give in, and knowing him as well as I do, I know that I will be the one who will suffer in the end if I don't do something about this.
Thus, I put a hand on his shoulder with the pretence of freeing him from whatever spell Galeon had put him under.
He reacts quickly and goes into reflection for a moment when he looks at me.
A heartbeat later a smile fashions his face as a sign of him having figured what to say, no doubt.
"Syrior, perhaps you should begin to convey to us how important these lessons were for my great lord."
"Are we talking about the same Galaenor?" I ask, confused.
Malon changes his mood immediately and the smile he had when he asked the question disappears.
Now there is only the demon made man called Malon, with his grey eyes full of rancour with a vein giving rise within his forehead.
"Yes, they were very important, your father and Malon had their lessons every day." I declare, expressionless and avoiding meeting the gaze with the demon.
I see Malon relax, satisfied with what I said.
Regaining some courage, I lean a little towards Galeon.
"As much as he didn't want to have them," I whisper in his ear.
He laughs.
And Malon slaps me on the back of the head.
Which encourages the rest of our companions to join in with laughter, myself included.
"Do we have much left to do, Elaerys?" I hear Haelena ask while the rest were amid glee.
Her words seem to bring Elaerys's face into seriousness and, in the say way, they seem to win Galeon's interest as well.
"I don't think so, let me see," she responds, taking steps toward the desk.
At that moment Malon and I exchanged glances, and we had a silent conversation.
Seeing that the children had returned to their duties, my friend gives me a nod and begins to leave the room.
I follow him.
For a long time, we walked without saying anything, and it was in those moments that I was able to appreciate even better the place where the Maltanis family, or what was left of them, has made their home.
There was a lot of green in the interiors as if the overwhelming sense of life that the surroundings gave were not enough.
Many people were moving from one place to another, going about their daily activities. They all looked healthy and only lost concentration to stop to greet us.
Malon always had that knack with people.
His inflexibility always made a bad first impression, but if one took the time to interact with him, one might be surprised at how he extends his influence into some facet of anyone's life.
He could convince you that you could be better than you think you are, and he did it without even saying much.
All he demanded was your best and letting him down, for some unknown reason, was something no one wanted to do.
"You have a very beautiful home, Malon."
He stops with my words, and I follow suit.
Now we both find ourselves looking at the horizon, with the brisk wind touching our faces.
"Galaenar always mentioned that Lys was one of the most beautiful places he had ever visited."
It had a different effect to hear him say that because, despite not having had a long life, he did everything possible to know any place where a man had ever stepped.
He also used to say Lys was a good place to die.
Although I'm sure anywhere would have accommodated him as long as it was not Valyria.
He was and is the only person with whom I had an opposite opinion when it came to talking about the mystical beauty of the freehold.
I refuse to accept that there is another place that could generate as many emotions just by seeing it as Valyria.
"Malon-"
"Maybe some other time, Syrior." Malon chimes in, predicting where I was leading the conversation.
He is probably right, there's no need to ruin this beautiful day by reliving our past failures.
"I understand. That conversation requires wine, lots of it." I declare nodding with my head.
Silence rules once more for a few moments, but I had too many questions right now to let it linger longer.
It has been a long time since I had seen my friend and many things have changed.
"What is Galeon like?" I start with an easy question, in no mood to pressure Malon.
He sighs and turns his head towards me looking straight into my eyes.
"You will like him." He answers, with a shy smile.
To be completely honest, it wouldn't take much for me to like the son of one of my closest friends, and I can say for certain that it would require even less for Malon.
"So, he is more like him, huh?"
The relationship I had with Nesaenya was only cordial.
Not because there was something wrong with her. In fact, Malon would say that if anyone should be blamed for that it would be me.
Everyone was delighted with her because her intelligence, good heart and wit were something that was not common among the maidens of the Valyrian nobility.
I was just too lively for someone as discreet as her.
"He must drive you crazy."
Behind Malon's veneration for his lord, one could find incompatibility between the two for, in essence, they were utterly different.
Galaenar might act like the dragonlord Malon would be proud of, but beyond the effort, it would take him to do that, he and I came off as soul brothers.
And that was the only reason Malon tolerated me.
"How long do you plan to stay?" He asks.
Or at least try to bear with me.
The Malon I know will sometimes say something that makes sense in his mind and is not at all out of place in the conversation he carries out, but when that something leaves his lips more often than not it ends up offending someone.
"Is my presence a nuisance, Malon?"
Seeing that Malon raises an eyebrow and exhibits a face full of confusion at that question, I can assume that this occasion is certainly an example of that quality of his.
I can't help but smile at how clueless he is.
"I don't know, things have calmed down. I can probably stay long enough to befriend one more Maltanis."
I could use a change; the current circumstances have caused too much anxiety in Myr.
Many plans have been stalled, and others completely abandoned.
The efforts put in action to avoid or eliminate any rebellious thoughts from among Volantis' new subjects have engendered much unease for how violent they were.
One would think that having been under the control of Valyria who ruled its colonies with a strong fist would make it easier to assimilate new lords with similar inclinations.
Sadly, for the volantese, that wasn't the case.
And one can only take so much.
There is a growing sentiment shared in Myr that would have terrible consequences.
War.
The one that they were denied seven years ago.
"My lord Galeon needs new people in his life," Malon announces and luckily his words seem to be enough to steer me away from those dismal thoughts.
"It is not easy for someone of his lineage."
I would dare to assume that the horizons that Galeon has seen throughout his life are limited to those of this state and it is terribly sorrowful to know that it is not going to change anytime soon.
There is no one with a more dangerous lineage than that of the heir to the Maltanis house.
Being one of the four is more than enough to be an antagonist to half of Essos, but his case is complicated further by being the grandson of the fearsome Aelor.
Nobody deserves to be persecuted for something they never did, much less a child.
"Haelena is the only one he considers a friend."
A great friend of mine once told me that "a single rose could be a garden, just as a single friend could be a whole world."
Yes, and that person was you.
"Although I must admit that her presence is very propitious to my lord."
Certainly, in how limited my first meeting with them was, I was able to glean that both seem to get on very well.
"Even so is not enough."
I doubt very much that Malon alludes to the need for more friends, but to the necessity Galeon has to meet different people who can help him grow in aspects of his life that he has yet to take part in.
That was the logic he used to "allow" Galaenar and me to interact.
Me acting as a representation of everything vulgar that exists in the world.
"Children need other children to do children's things." Malon exposes, now having his always impassive face directed towards me.
"Is that the role you need me for?" I ask confused. "Will I be a child he befriends with?" I add with a tone in which I intend to demonstrate how bizarre the idea was to me.
"Yes." He answers quickly keeping seriousness in his voice and face.
He probably means it; you never know with him.
And well, in hopes of not giving him the satisfaction of receiving a reply to that, I just shake my head and chuckled.
Malon still looks at me strangely amid the silence that took over the scene.
I better change the subject; I need a question.
"Who is Haelena?" And that's how I recite the first thing that came to mind.
He smiles and looks back into the distance.
Why did he smile?
"Lord's Valennis daughter."
I won't deny that I was curious to see a new side to Malon as a father, too bad it wasn't meant to be.
Valennis was a family that descended from the Gontaris and they used to be prouder than what might be considered normal among the nobles of the empire and, considering that the dragonlords' pride was already intense, it was no surprise that they were memorable.
I never met a member of that family, and I will forever feel fortunate for that.
"How did you get to know her and her mother?"
Malon flinches and turns to me with a face painted in surprise.
"And why did I get the impression that the little girl is unaware of her affiliation with Elaerys?"
From his reaction, I deduce that it was in order to protect her.
However, him going over the trouble of doing that for someone he did not know is what confuses me.
Malon is not that kind of person.
Getting involved with another member of the empire's nobility increases the risk of being discovered, as one not only has to deal with those who can potentially reveal the existence of one of them but also with those who know the other's.
Malon sighs and again looks to the horizon.
"Sometimes I forget that you are not as stupid as you appear."
That's as close to a compliment as one can get from him.
I will take it.
"Thank you."
It is not very difficult to notice that there is some link between the two, they are too similar.
And it is a blessing that this is the case because the very idea in which she assimilates more to his father is not appalling.
"We share an acquaintance." He announces but does not elaborate further.
Malon has no personal acquaintances, as he always limited himself to the same circle as Galaenar's.
In Lys, there was only one person with whom he could have come into contact before.
"Lotho Rogare?"
I don't have the specifics, but I remember that it was the merchant with whom Galaenar did business here on this island.
The Rogare family was small and had only just begun to stand out when they received aid from the Maltanis family.
Lotho, the head of the family, was a very resourceful and efficient merchant.
"He assumed we had the same interests," Malon adds with a nod.
And what were those interests?
To ally with a noble family of the empire in these times was, in the most optimistic circumstances, socially ill-advised and that, for someone like him who was just making his place in the world, does not seem to be a good decision.
"And he was right."
Do you think that what he wants is the same as you Malon? A clerk only looks out for his own convenience and no one else's.
"I don't trust Rogare."
For a merchant, even honesty is speculation based on his earnings.
"Galaenar didn't either."
It was very easy to like him, but it was a journey to earn his trust. Galaenar barely knew Lotho, and their relationship was nothing more than a business partnership.
"And neither do I." Malon asserts, and once again exhales dramatically.
"I had no other choice."
So Rogare also knows of the existence of Galeon.
I don't like that at all.
And he was probably the intermediator that delivered Malon's letter.
"People like Rogare feel safer if they think they know all your secrets."
It's my fault.
It is because I was not there for them that they were forced to take risks and now they are at the mercy of a stranger whose intentions are not clear to us.
Closing my eyes, trying not to give in to the resentment I felt with myself, I mutter. "Your statement would be more comforting if it weren't for the fact that he knows the only one that matters."
"He is ambitious and believes that having the last Maltanis is an investment."
Their lives depend on how profitable they are for Lotho.
And those circumstances fill my soul with self-loathing, which physically seems to show itself with my aching heart, making my breathing a complex task.
Feeling a hand on my shoulder I open my eyes and see that Malon is in front of me with eyes full of tenacity.
"I know how to deal with his kind."
Such a simple action, followed by even simpler words.
The bitter taste disappears and my heart calms down.
For some reason, I feel like every concern that wanted to enter my mind vanished.
If Malon says so, it will be so.
Unable to constraint myself anymore and overjoyed at knowing how lucky I am that I still have my friend I smile subtly.
"I'm glad you're still the same, Malon."
Aenar I
It was when I noticed that my glass was empty that I realized that I had lost myself among the words that I read in the letter.
I don't even remember what the wine tasted like and if someone were to tell lord Celtigar that, I wouldn't be surprised if he were to wage war against us over it.
For him, there is no more precious treasure on Claw Isle than the castle's cellar, which is full of wines of different flavours and colours.
This abundance motivated him to share with those around him, and the barrels they periodically gave us have started a tradition among our families.
"Father."
My eyes regain solvency and go to where the voice came from and there, I see my greatest pride, my beautiful daughter approaching with a smile adorning her face and a flagon in her hands.
Seeing that she was already by my side, I extend the hand that was holding the cup and she poured the liquid that the jar contained, more wine.
Now, with a full cup, I nod my head to thank her for the gesture and hand her the letter I had in my other hand.
After taking it, Daenys puts the vase on the desk and immerses herself in the message's words.
The letter was not very extensive and that is why it did not take her long to finish reading it.
"Remind me why we don't kill him and avoid problems in the future, now that it's easy, now that he's vulnerable."
It is no surprise that he survived as that was foreseen.
The heir to House Maltanis was the point of convergence between our family and Aelor, and his life was the fare we paid for Dragonstrone.
"Because you promised, father."
I doubt very much that this pact has any value now that the other interested party was dead.
"We need to do whatever it takes to protect our family," I announce before bringing my cup to my lips.
One sip was enough to remember that Celtigars have good taste, as the sour flavour accompanied by the sweetness of the fruit was in perfect harmony.
From the colour, I dare say it was one from Dorne.
It is a pity that Daenys does not share my palate and find the strong taste of this red unpleasant.
"No matter the cost," I add after emptying my glass again.
The fall of the Empire marks a before and after in history, and it is this new period in which our family was destined to rule the world as the last bastion of the empire's dynasty.
Or at least that was what the extinction of the dragon's blood entailed.
Since forever, our magic extended our limits towards new ambitions and an expression of it was the dragon dreams that allowed us to have contact with the future.
However, it took a specific predisposition to make sense of them, a talent that did not appear in most generations, no matter how pure our blood is.
We were blessed.
Daenys had foreshadowed us as the last dragonlords.
Nevertheless, the elation did not last long.
A new revelation, and a better understanding of the allegory that her blood showed her, manifested the birth of the one who would become the reason the internal conflict in the empire ends once and for all.
The irony comes in the way in which the troubles that plagued Valyria were unravelled.
"Disregarding of our pride."
Our lineage is more valuable than any selfish whim that denotes dignity derived from some individualistic action of conscience.
The path to glory demands fire and blood, because in the end, in victory, we will be the ones to write history as we please.
"Honor has no place in this discussion."
In death, the inevitable destiny of man, greatness is not achieved with the honour one takes to the next world, but with the legacy, one leaves behind.
Daenys smiles at my words and walks to the balcony of the room.
"It does matter this one time, father." She says turning her face towards me while leaning on the stone fence.
Her violet eyes were now completely focused on me, and as always, the feeling her gaze left on everyone was one of vulnerability.
It's as if just by glancing she could bear any secret that you thought you had in confidence.
"The gods were witnesses."
It is when she pronounces those words that, by way of a divine act, a cold breeze enters through the balcony and stirs Daenys's long silver hair.
The smile she had faded, and her head turned towards the landscape.
"They will make sure that oath is fulfilled."
Since when do the gods have so much interference in the affairs of man?
Is that child that special?
Why? What is it that only he could grant to a deity?
"Is that what you saw?" I ask in a low tone of voice, being unable to hide the unrest to which the previous scene set me up.
"I'm not sure of what I saw, I couldn't discern between what could happen and what will happen."
The tension in my muscles slowly begins to fade with those words.
There will always be a way to achieve something as long as it is not is defined, now it could be a completely different future than what she saw years ago.
Unfortunately, there is no way to confirm it now, with how immensely useful it is, the ability is limited to the first years of life, or as some others claim, linked to the virginal condition of the seer.
Sometimes, at times like these, I waver in conviction over the decision to unite Gaemon and Daenys in marriage.
Before the fall of the empire, there were few worthy prospects to ally with our house, but now with all of them dead, there was no one else equal to the two of them, unless we wanted to taint our blood.
Our power.
"Together we will be part of death and destruction."
Every beginning gives rise to the end of another, that is the path of a conqueror.
"And all we ever wanted will be ours." my daughter recites as if she were reading something.
Those words are all I need to hear for my body to awaken and instinctively stand up.
"Daenys-"
My feet, without any order, take me to where she is.
After hearing her name she turns and gives me her attention.
As uncomfortable as it may be for me to be the centre of her attention, I need her to answer looking me in the eyes.
I need to know why that future envisions that we will have everything we always wanted, but at the same time, it conditions us to share it with another.
Which is contradictory.
"We cannot be enemies, father," Daenys announces in a soft but determined voice.
I have no interest in being his enemy, I am not inclined to forge such a relationship.
I just need him to die, and that can happen in a thousand ways.
It could be so fast that there wouldn't be time to talk and think about whoever did the deed or commanded it.
"There was only a clear and unchangeable fate."
In all the years that I have lived, I had been forging the idea in which destiny did not exist, or at least not with the concept in which everything was already planned and that one only had to wait for things to happen. As if everything was determined as a matter of chance in the conception of life.
I avowed that life was more a matter of choice and that whatever we wanted was still in our hands to make it possible through struggle.
Daenys solidified that proposition when she began to have dreams about the destruction of the empire, one different from the other, with some visions in which there was no devastation even.
But this child, without doing anything, and without even having the ability to choose for himself, has annihilated that perception.
"Now or in hundreds of years, we always fail, we always lose." She whispers in an intonation filled with agony as if the very words hurt her.
My body reacts and prepares to go back into the same trance in which it had been after reading the letter, but it was not the time for that, as Daenys made sure that it did not happen again when with both hands she took one of mine and squeezed it.
With a sigh, my body relaxes a bit and my eyes go towards our hands and my lips form a shy smile with a touch of frustration.
"I had different expectations, I thought that without the empire everything would be different."
This age was supposed to be ours, and that at last House Targaryen would take it all by force through fire and blood.
"Are we doomed to cower behind the Maltanis as shadows forever?"
In the empire, one needed to stand out or slowly fade into oblivion.
We were always a family proud of its achievements, but every time we deserve any praise we were referred by the family from whom we had originated many generations ago and not by who we are.
We were stigmatized by the power that the Maltanis had attributed to our blood, and therefore everything we did was accredited to them.
"Oh, don't misunderstand, father," Daenys clears her voice and removes her hands from mine.
"You were correct, everything will be different."
My head gains bearing and my gaze is again focused on my daughter's eyes.
This time without any discomfort.
"We can rule." She says with a sweet undertone and a smile on her lips.
And with a turn, she turns her back on me and again finds her face directed towards the horizon.
"We are going to rule." She pleads again with that sweet voice from before but is influenced by a sense of certainty now.
Guided by my curiosity, I take a few steps and stop at her side, surrendering to the very landscape that seems to be calling her.
"We don't need to go anywhere."
My sight follows her voice and I am dazzled by the image that Daenys magic has created in these moments. Her eyes were shining, making it even more difficult to be in her presence, and the tips of her hair were assimilating a dark red colour that seemed to want to dominate the silver that she always wore.
"We are where we should be, in front of vastness full of possibilities."
I can feel it in my bones, this is the magic that our dynasty will use to forge our legacy.
Our blood and our power are all we need to fulfil our wishes.
"Our future."
As if listening to an order, my eyes mimic Daenys's and again I find myself staring off into the distance.
However, it is at this time that I realized why she couldn't look away.
I finally understand that the answer to everything was to the west.
Galeon I
He is a demon.
The end of summer was already felt in the air, the morning had dawned clear, but there was a feeling of frigidity.
At the age of nine, this would be my first winter.
Well, the first that I will appreciate. There was already one a few years ago when I was too young to remember it.
We left at dawn on Malon's order. Although he still refuses to admit that they are, as he upholds that he has no authority over me to give orders and that they are only mere suggestions.
If that were the case, and if it were up to me, there would be no reason for us to be on our feet this early. Even if the winter here is "better than elsewhere," because every moment of sleep is precious and my lessons with Elaerys limit by itself most of the time I can dedicate to it.
Nevertheless, it's never about what I want to do.
Malon has guided us to one of the towers that surround the hills of the state and considering that this little excursion was due to some lessons, my curiosity was intensified by the absence of Syrior and Elaerys, with whom we used to carry out these types of tasks.
It was just Malon, Haelena, and me this time.
The demon was sitting solemnly on his horse in front of us, his long black hair stirring in the wind. Every certain period he would glance at us as if we would get lost if he didn't.
It is in those moments that I could tell that he had a grim expression in his grey eyes, something we only saw when he was talking about business or work. He was not at all like the man who sat in front of our beds to rejoice us with stories about the empire.
Haelena, on the other hand, radiated enthusiasm. The big smile that took shape on her face and her violet eyes filled with anticipation to show it. Although she always did it whenever there was something to learn. Today, though, it seemed to reach overwhelming levels.
To this day I do not understand her admiration for Malon.
The demon conditioned this lesson on grounds that he would only give it if we were all taking part in it. He knew that I would not come voluntarily and that's why he used her to convince me.
That's how evil he is.
Having already reached our destination, the demon dismounts his horse and takes off his gloves while turning towards us, who following his example descend from our ponies and approach him.
I can't help but take a look at the place as it seemed to be desolate, something that should not happen, considering that Malon always kept guards on each of the towers at all times.
What is Malon going to teach us?
Pondering that question is that I feel a pull from Haelena and seeing that her gaze was not directed at me, but towards the demon, I feel obliged to follow the same direction and now he has the attention of both of us.
Clearing his voice, and taking the cloth that was around his chest, Malon takes a step toward us and finally reveals what he had. Two wooden swords, one smaller than the other.
"Lord Aelor was the best seen in centuries, and your father was also distinguished as exceptional." Announces the demon as he hands one to each of us.
Haelena seems a bit disappointed by these events.
Even though she reveres the stories about warriors and dragonlords, she never showed interest in learning the art they preached, and that had been made clear when she refused to take the secret lessons that Syrior had proposed to us.
Although at the time I thought her rejection was largely just because of the clandestine nature of them as if it was something we shouldn't do.
"It is time for you to follow in their footsteps, you are both old enough to learn, my lord and my lady."
The sword is much heavier than the one I use to practice with Syrior, and as I take a glance towards Haelena I can see that I'm not the only one having trouble holding it.
"From today onwards, we will start the days early and practice before and after your lessons with Elaerys."
Hearing the words of the demon, my body loses strength, and the wooden sword falls from my hands.
Every day?
There is no way my body can do this so often.
"My lessons with Elaerys are early, Malon," I mention as I lean in to pick up the sword, knowing that right now the demon was giving me a piercing look that was a premonition of a more serious consequence if I didn't.
"At what time-?" I'm going to rest, is what I wanted to say before I was interrupted by Malon.
"The Naeliar family has a unique style, designed for battle, not duels."
For a long time, I thought that the devil wanted to end my life by tiring me with many books, but I assume that when he saw that it was not being too effective, he had to do something else to achieve his goal.
Finally, with this, it wouldn't take long for him to do it.
It's the perfect crime.
"Learning it requires a lot of sacrifices, we must refine your senses, change them to perceive everything differently." He adds as he draws his sword and holds it upright with one hand for all of us to see.
I believe that the best thing I can do in these circumstances is to enjoy what remains of my life, and although I am sure that this sacrifice of which he speaks will make me hate these lessons, I cannot deny that I had always been fascinated by the stories that Syrior told me about my father and grandfather.
And I can also be certain when saying that I have enjoyed the fencing lessons that I have had with Syrior in recent months, and although at times they could be more repetitive they were never boring like the ones I had with Elaerys.
I just hope that what Malon is going to teach us is just as easy too.
"It requires a change in the way you live and see life itself, so you both will need all the time you can spare, and probably that won't be enough either." He continues, but now with a more severe tone than he had before which I assume conditions that what he is saying now should be taken as a warning.
"I have dedicated my life to it and when comparing myself to my lord Galaenar I was nothing more than an apprentice," he adds with a tone of voice that cannot hide a hint of pride that paints his words while having that strange glint in his eyes that he always has every time he talks about my father.
Once plagued by curiosity and in the absence of something concrete that could take it away, I asked Syrior who was the best with the sword between them.
His answer came with an arrogant smile the moment he said that he was better than Malon and that he won more than he lost against my father when he was one against one, but that same smile faded when he said that he still considered that my father was the best warrior among them, for he could beat them both Syrior and Malon together by himself.
What he said didn't make sense to me and he didn't know how to explain it either.
"And he only had an adequate level in the art."
After saying that, the demon takes a few steps back and performs quick movements with the sword to impress us.
Of course, that doesn't work for me, as I have seen the guards practice many times and although they did not maintain the same flow and precision as Malon, I still consider Syrior's style to be even more extraordinary.
"There was no one who was more revered than your grandfather. He enticed the crowds and engendered admiration while his enemies cowered at his mere mention."
I've seen Syrior practice against six at the same time and emerge victorious, if he and my father only had a suitable level, what the hell was my grandfather?
I would have liked to meet him.
Amid that longing, I feel the freshness of the air this morning sinks and I begin to feel cold.
Haelena gasps dramatically which incite me to look.
Her eyes, somehow, had grown larger and her mouth was open in an effort not to fail to show the same surprise that the rest of her face seemed to exhibit.
My eyes follow her gaze instinctively and what I see did not take more than a heartbeat to have the same effect it had on my friend and now, without a doubt, I present the same expression as her.
It didn't take me many years of my life to entertain the idea that Malon was a demon, and now I finally have proof of it.
His grey eyes glowed a dark greenish hue and his hair seemed to gain a new shade too, but in its case it was crimson. However, not only his appearance seems to have changed since his movements began to be faster and the strength that each one of them had seemed to have gained more power because the air itself seemed to succumb to them and a deafening sound was its wail.
"That is a legacy to which you are entitled, my lord."
I withdraw what I said.
Malon looks much better than Syrior and I want to learn this.
No, I am going to learn this and only this time I will indulge the demon yet I will survive this training no matter how hard it is.
"But behind everything that comes with being that capable is a lot of work."
The air seems to return to normal the moment Malon returns to his normal state or his human disguise.
The air I didn't know I was holding is released and involuntarily I feel a smile form on my lips.
Looking at Haelena I notice that her enthusiasm had returned because now she wore that face full of joy that we are used to seeing.
"No one tried harder than Lord Aelor," Malon says in a solemn tone.
If there's one thing, I must agree with Syrior, it's that there's no one better than Malon to make you do something and make you believe that's what you want too.
I just got beaten by him yet again.
"What I propose is only the inevitable work for you to get what you need."
Malon always mentions that the world is full of different people and that not everyone will be nice to us like those who live in our state and that sometimes people were cruel to others for some reason or no reason altogether.
But the tone of the conversation when that topic was discussed gained more seriousness when he told us that outside, Haelena and I are the ones most at risk because of who we are.
Unfortunately, he has never told us what he means by that and why we, specifically, are more vulnerable to the danger that exists in the world.
At the end of those conversations, he would tell us what we need to overcome those dangers.
Be smarter and stronger than everyone else.
"It is up to you to push yourselves harder to get what you want."
What I want is to live here with everyone.
I want to keep going to hit stones with old Xaro and see how he turns them into something useful, I want to keep eating the cakes that Gyldayn secretly gives me from time to time. I want to keep listening to Gerah's everyday stories and I want to keep taking care of animals with Breza, even though Skoro tries to convince me that it is more fun taking care of plants.
I want to keep pranking Malon with the help of Syrior and I want to keep playing with Haelena while we learn with Elaerys.
As books never were my thing, I have to be strong then.
"Fear not, my lord," Malon says as he puts one of his hands on my right shoulder. "I have seen people die of boredom, conflict and illness," he adds now with the cruel smile that he always shows when he gives me a task to do.
"Never for working hard."
And with those words, I lost much of the enthusiasm that I had gained from the passing of his monologue.
Yes, this demon wants to kill me.
First time-skip and this chapter also introduces a few more characters that will have a big impact in the story. And, a Galeon scene, finally.
If anyone has any suggestions or constructive criticism of any kind, don't hesitate to write me up.
Have a nice day!