Chapter 7: Sunchaser
The Sunchaser
From the moment that she could think coherent thoughts, Elissa Farman had always known she was different.
Where other girls enjoyed things such as sewing and dresses and horses and embroidery and singing, she liked running in the forest and climbing trees and archery… though she did enjoy singing as well. Where other girls enjoyed watching the boys in the training yards and looking at handsome knights and lords, she preferred being in the training yard… and looking at the beautiful women and ladies who were busy looking at the handsome knights and lords.
Of course, some of those ladies and women looked back.
A pretty young scullery maid named Ella had been the first one who had looked back.
Many had been the late-night, furtive kisses and explorations in shadowy corners of Faircastle. But that had petered out. She was sure that Franklyn had something to do with it, the bastard.
After that, she had simply gone to… discreet brothels. They were always about if you knew where to look. They asked no questions and were more than willing to those with her tastes.
But more than that, Elissa's first and true love had been the sea, from the first moment she had set her eyes upon it, stretching its endless lengths beyond the horizon.
Since she could remember, the sea had always seemed to… sing to her. It called out to her with a strange, soundless melody.
Every day, every moment possible, she could be found on the shores and beaches, swimming and frolicking and diving deep beneath the waves. Other times, she would be at the docks, watching the ships come and go, and learning.
More than that, she indulged in that love by learning to sail. As a Farman, it was all but expected that she should know the ways of the ocean and the methods of traversing it… even if she were a woman.
She enjoyed climbing the rigging, feeling the spray of salt on her face, and the feel of wood and rope under hands. She enjoyed every moment of it.
She still remembered sailing by herself around her home, and all the way down to the Arbor. At fourteen, it had been her happiest memory, and one of her proudest achievements. Father had been so proud.
Franklyn had spat at her, and called the act 'unladylike.'
The fucking bastard.
Through it all, she always kept an eye on the west, towards the setting sun. Every day, she looked towards the horizon of the Sunset sea, and wondered what lay beyond it.
And every day, her longing for that horizon and its mysteries grew and grew.
But no one else seemed to care. At best, her peers ignored her. At worst, they mocked her, laughing behind their smiles and chains and her back. Of those who mocked and sneered at her, those mocking and sneering voices were always led by Franklyn, the swine.
Her father, when he was not busy, listened to her ideas, but there was only so much that he could do.
So, most days, she was at the docks. She helped to bring in and load up cargo to and from ships, carved out and repaired hulls, sewed up sails, caulked up leaks, and helped chart out courses on fading maps. She even learned how to speak and swear as blue as any sailor, and learned half-a-dozen different languages and dialects, such as the flowery language of the Summer Isles from a Swann Sailor.
At the same time, she learned to wield a sword and quarterstaves on both ship and land and shoot arrows from a bow on a rocking boat. At other times, she learned how to increase the amount of time that she could hold her breath, what sort of oils and fats to spread on her flesh if she was planning on diving deep beneath the surface, or swimming in the ocean for long periods of time. She fished with a spear and a net and even swam alongside a pod of singing and grinning dolphins at one point. She sang for her father and his court, accompanied by her harp. Other times, she explored the forests of Fair Isle with her dogs and hawks, and her favorite horse, a strong roan stallion that she had named Saltrunner.
Father let her do as she please, and Franklyn less so.
Despite her preferences, Father had tried to betroth her, though she had often suspected it had been at Franklyn's behest. Twice she had been betrothed, and twice it had fallen through.
The first boy had been a timid little third son of House Westerling. He had been nice enough, she supposed, but he had seemed scared of his own shadow. By the Seven, she had never heard a boy cry so much. She had barely even touched him with the sparring sword, for Seven's sake. Yet, he had gone off running and crying, snot dribbling don his nose.
The second time had been when she was sixteen. That one had been Jak Crakehall, also known as Jak the Giant. He had one of Franklyn's good friends. The man had been large, brawny, brutish, and he had seemed as swarthy, piggish, and bristly as his house's sigil. His breath had also stank of ale. There had even been talk of him fathering a bastard or two.
No wonder he and Franklyn had been friends.
At first, he had acted courteous enough, until he cupped her arse during a dance. She had slapped him in response. The next day, she had trounced and humiliated big Jak the Giant in the training yard. It helped that the man had already been quite drunk at the time.
Franklyn had been furious and embarrassed. He had always hated her, been envious of how she held Father's ear. Perhaps that envy had turned to rage in the end.
One night, he had come into her room, and his breath had stunk of wine….
"You are nothing," he had slurred into her ear.
She tried to never think of what had happened that night. She had never told anyone, either. Not even father.
Not even Rhaena.
The next day, Franklyn acted as if it had never happened, at least in public. If only that had been the end of it.
He would only come into her room when he was very drunk. Though, she suspected that he was not as drunk as he often appeared, even if his breath always reeked of alcohol.
Perhaps he enjoyed it, what he did to her, what he would whisper in her ear as he violated her, over and over again.
"You are nothing."
After the second time it had happened, she had considered drowning herself in her beloved ocean. She felt… unclean.
In fact, the night after the second time, she had snuck out of her room, evading the servants, and headed down to the shore. She had stripped off her nightdress and shoes, and had walked out bare and barefoot into the waiting waters, and had quietly submerged herself beneath the waves.
As she did so, she heard it again; the song. The song that had been the first thing she could remember hearing.
It caressed her, nurtured her, and whispered kind, soundless things into her ears. It held her close, like a lover.
It told her that she would survive this. That she would be strong, and that nothing would ever break her.
Franklyn had hoped to subdue her, to bully, and break her into submission.
But he would not break her. She would not be broken. She would never be broken, and especially not by him.
Elissa would be as the sea, as the endless ocean.
Unyielding.
Incomparable.
And great.
For the most part, she simply made sure that he never touched her again.
The last time he came to her rooms, stinking of wine as ever, she had been more than ready. When he entered, she had promptly broken his nose. That sent him fleeing, and he was squealing like the pig that he was, that he had always been.
After that, he never returned to her rooms. He hardly ever deigned to look at her.
He still tried to control her in other ways, but she knew he would never win. Not ever again.
She was strong… and he was weak.
She was the ocean… and he would drown within her depths.
She had always paid some attention to the affairs of the realm at large, for the most part. But, when one lives on an island, there was only so much that could be learned and absorbed from the mainland. It also made it more than a bit difficult to really care. Even as the Swords and Stars went into open revolt against the king and his family, it did not really make much of a difference to Elissa.
There was only the sea, her maps, her ships, and the horizon.
Then Maegor became king, and slew Aegon and his ragged army at the God's eye. Elissa grew feared, like everyone else, but she still was on her island.
Still, only the song could comfort her.
As ever, the horizon beckoned.
Then came Queen Rhaena Targaryen, the Grandaughter of Aegon himself, and it was if a bridge had been built between Elissa's island and the rest of the world.
She had first arrived from the sky upon her mighty dragon, like some divine figure from a foreign religion.
Elissa had been returning from the docks when the Queen had arrived, and when their eyes had first met… she had been entranced.
She had been so very beautiful; long silver hair that feel past the small of her back; inviting purple eyes the color of shining amethysts; and a lean, full-bosomed figure with flawless skin. To have called her like a goddess would have been a gross understatement.
Across the room, their eyes had met… and it seemed as if everything else had just faded away.
Even the sea's song seemed muted when Elisa looked into those endless eyes.
Throughout the entire feast, they had… just talked.
The next day, they had met again and… they had talked. They talked of Fair Isle, and everything and nothing.
They talked and walked among the beaches of Fair Isle and they talked until the sun went down. Rhaena even requested that she be moved to a room next to her.
Every day, they grew closer together. They hawked together, rode together, and shot arrows together.
Closer, and closer, every day.
The first time they made love, it had been on the beach.
They had been taking one of their customary long walks, and the sun had been high in the noonday sky.
They had been alone, of course. They often were.
There they had been, side by side, talking about everything and nothing with hands entwined when, all of a sudden… The Queen kissed her. Not upon the cheek, but full on the lips.
It had been a bit of a surprise, and yet, a happy one nonetheless.
The Queen had pulled back for a second. "My apologies, Lady Farman, but, ever since I saw you… I've been wanting to do that for a while."
In lieu of a verbal reply, Elissa returned the kiss.
As it deepened, they had tumbled to the ground and unlaced the other's gowns. Soon enough, they were lost in a wave of exploring mouths, roving fingers, and fiery ecstasy.
For what seemed like the first time… the intensity of the song lessened.
For the first time… the horizon did not beckon.
She had found something else.
For the next few years, Elissa and her Queen knew nothing but happiness, on Fair Isle.
Nearly every day, Elissa took Rhaena sailing on the shining waters, and Rhaena, in turn, took Elissa on Dreamfyre, far above the clouds, where it seemed as if all life was still and bright.
Every night, they made love, long into the early hours of the morning, until they were always left breathless and covered in sweat and other such fluids and the remnants of their ecstasy.
It was paradise.
Elissa had hoped it would never end, and she knew that her queen felt the same.
But all things had to end, did they not?
When the order from the monster came, even Elissa's brave and genial father could do not but obey.
Thus, was Rhaena all but forced leave Far Isle… and thus Elissa.
Elissa returned to her ships that day and spoke little.
When the news of Maegor and Rhaena's marriage had spread throughout the realm, Elissa spoke to no one but did not return to land for nearly a month. When she did, she was thin, weather-beaten, and her skin was browned by the sun.
There was only the song to comfort her. It soothed her and held her close.
She mourned for her love and then focused ever on the distant horizon.
She busied herself by creating plans for the sort of ship that would be needed for such a journey beyond the setting sun; deeper hulls, a broader beam, and a plethora of sails, as well as being able to support a large, self-sufficient crew and pantry.
She had even thought of a name for it.
The Sunchaser.
When the news of Maegor's humiliation and defeat at Beleriand spread throughout the realm, Elissa felt slightly elated. The whole realm quietly celebrated.
Then came the next six years, and news of the Monster's insanity spread far and wide.
The entire realm waited with bated breath for the sight of the Black Dread's wings covering the sky.
Elissa distracted herself by focusing on the sea. After all, even dragonfire could be doused by the ocean water.
Those six years were horrid, if only for the uncertainty that seemed to clog up the very air.
Then he was found dead, Jaehaerys and his family returned, alongside the elves, and the whole realm cheered and celebrated.
All that mattered to Elissa was that her Queen was free and that she had returned to her. That was celebration enough.
When her queen returned to her, Elissa had been overjoyed. In turn, Rhaena had been beyond joy to have reunited with Elissa.
They were happy, even if Rhaena had to marry sweet little Androw to keep up appearances.
Still, there were more happy days than there were bad. Rhaena brought in the rest of her favorites, such as plump Alayne and boisterous Samantha, and their days were filled with flying, sailing, and laughter, while their nights were filled with passion and love.
And yet, through all of that happiness and joy, it never escaped Elissa's notice… that her queen was not the same.
At times, she would wake up sobbing and screaming in the middle of the night, and Elissa would have to hold her tight until she quieted down.
Other times she seemed… forceful. Domineering. Everyone had to do what she wanted. Their own ideas were secondary to her own. If she wanted to take them flying, then they went flying. If Rhaena wished to go sailing, then they were all on a boat within the hour. It was her way only. Her desires were paramount, and everyone else's was… of no import.
Still, aside from that, she was the same, and Elissa hoped that, with time, her queen would heal, and regain her previous self.
During the years they lived on Fair isle, it seemed as if she would.
But like any dream… it never lasted.
If Elissa had ever decided to try and pinpoint one particular moment when it all started to fall apart, then she would have decided that it was the Hightower Wedding.
It had seemed like a happy occasion. When was a wedding not? At least when it came to the celebration portion.
It had been the first time Elissa had seen the famed elves of Beleriand. As had been described, they were quite beautiful, almost unearthly in fact… and somehow sad. But beautiful, none the less.
Especially the bride. She had been… radiant.
It had been a joyous occasion, to Elissa's reckoning. But her queen, she had seemed… distant.
Disdainful, even.
It was especially so when she saw her twin daughters, who looked like her in every way. Her queen writ small, in physicality.
But her queen hardly spoke to them. She would only look upon them from afar, as well as the tall elf maiden who accompanied the two little girls everywhere, and who they hung on to… as if she were their mother.
Her queen had been in sullen silence the whole seven days of the celebration and deigned not to speak to any elves or even her own siblings. One day, she refused to leave the apartments that Elissa and Rhaena, and Androw had been given during their stay at the Hightower.
Still, it had been a most enjoyable seven days.
The Melody had never sounded so wonderful.
Following the wedding, they returned to Far Isle. Despite her attitude at the wedding, Rhaena spoke not a word about it, and so, Elissa' queen continued on as always with Elissa, Alayne, and Sam.
Just the four of them… even if her queen seemed angrier on some days.
But, again, for the most part… everything had been fine.
Then… father had died, and everything truly began to change.
Elissa had always loved her father. He had been kind, jovial, and had always seemed larger than life, bigger than his frame had made him initially seem. He had instilled in her his love of the sea and had always been there for her, ever willing to lend a kindly ear. Unlike Franklyn, he had never really tried to control her.
It had seemed unfair that he had to die, choking on a fishbone.
A fishbone. A fucking fishbone!
It still beggared belief.
Of course, he had hardly been put in the ground when Franklyn all but ordered her queen and her friends to leave Fair Isle.
He then had the audacity to try and make Elissa remain of Fair Isle at the docks. The fucking bastard.
But he got what he deserved, that day. Elissa had never laughed so hard as she had when the dockworkers and the rest of the smallfolk promptly tossed the bastard in a ship's hold. She hoped that he would always smell of cod after that day.
She never really knew that it would be the last time that she would ever set foot upon Fair Isle.
Elissa's first impression of Dragonstone was that it was a most foreboding place. It also looked like a place that no sane person would ever want to live upon.
Then again, she was not a Targaryen.
The air was filled with the low roars of dragons when their boats docked at Dragonstone's port. Still, the sun was shining brightly in the sky, and the journey had not been turbulent, so Elissa thought those to be good omens. Plus, there was a lovely view of the narrow sea.
That night, she and Rhaena made love three times in the bedroom of the Conqueror himself, alongside Alayne, and Sam.
During the day, when not flying or sailing with her queen and her friends, Elissa entertained herself by exploring the island, though she made sure to steer clear of the wild dragon nests.
Though, at times, the song felt… muted, on the island. It was disconcerting, but bearable, as long as she was by the side of her queen.
Elissa also took the time to get to know her love's two daughters, fearless Rhaella and demure Aerea. The two had taken to her, though not instantaneously, for they had not been happy with being taken away from the side of the elf maiden she had seen them with at the Hightower Wedding.
She educated them about sailing, navigating by stars, and getting a feeling for the waves. She also told them stories about her travels around Westeros, including a small skirmish she had at the Stepstones. Fiery little Rhaella especially took to the stories of travel and adventure. Every time, she would ask Elissa to take her with her on her next adventure, and Elissa would laugh and say that she would when the little girl was older.
In turn, the little ones told her all they knew about the elves, especially about the tall and austere elven maiden they had been with at the Hightower wedding. They even taught Elissa the basics of the elvish language.
But she learned rather quickly to never repeat any of it in front of her love. The mere mention of the elves would darken her queen's mood for days.
As the days and months passed, Elissa felt weary. Weary of Dragonstone. She yearend to sail away, to find a boat, a Sunchaser, and sail far beyond the sunset sea.
She would ask her queen, and Rhaena would say no.
No, no, a thousand times no.
She could remember clearly, the first time that Rhaena had hit her. She had not even been discussing the Sunchaser. Instead, she had broached the subject of letting her daughters visit Dorne, and see the elf Aredhel. They had not been allowed to attend her wedding to the Sword of The Morning.
Rhaena's face twisted at the suggestion. The next thing Elissa had known, she was seeing stars.
Rhaena did not speak to her for an entire day after that. Then she had apologized, but in a way that made it seem as if Elissa should have been the one to apologize. That intimation hurt worse than the first slap.
The second time had been about the Sunchaser. The others? Less remarkable.
Perhaps she should have seen it coming, cresting over the proverbial horizon. Perhaps at the moment that Rhaena had started to grip her breasts so tightly in bed that Elissa would cry out from the pain.
After the final time Rhaena hit her, Elissa knew she could not stay. She could no longer stay on the island of Dragonstone, and she could no longer stay with Rhaena Targaryen. She was a broken thing, broken beyond any and all repair.
But Elissa would not be broken.
Rhaena cajoled, pleaded, begged, and even threatened her to stay. But Elissa would not be cowed. Even when Rhaena hit her hard enough to leave a bruise.
Elissa still left for Driftmark the following day, with her head held high… even if Rhaella's tears had rent at her heart.
Maybe one day, she would come back for them and set them free from their mother.
But the melody sang louder as she left the island, so she knew that this was right.
Of course, she had taken her own little bit of revenge on the woman who she had once loved. That revenge was currently in her room, sitting in a sea chest.
They would help her to chase the sun, beyond the horizon.
From Driftmark, she made her way to Pentos, and then towards Braavos.
The day of her arrival, after sailing through the legs of the Titan, she wandered through the city, her precious sea chest upon her back, alongside what little else she had. She had read that you never openly wore a sword at night, lest she become drawn into a duel, and the sun was already beginning to set.
She wandered through the canals, and marveled at the peoples and things she saw; at the myriad bridges and statues of dead Sealords, the bravos with their thin swords, the courtesans with their open wares, the oyster sellers, the countless small islands, the songs, the dark clothes, and the city itself. She wandered and marveled at it all, until she grew hungry and tired, and rented a room at an inn.
Everyone she met was so very kind.
She slept for several hours, the first time in a few years that she had ever truly slept alone. The next day, she rose early, and wandered through the mist-shrouded canals, making her way northeast to the Sealord's Palace, with its domes and towers and thunderbolts.
Through guile, cunning, and definitely more than a bit of luck, Elissa secured an audience with the Sealord. Although, a small portion of her mind had found to be almost… too easy.
Still, the Sealord had been jovial enough, and kindly enough. Of course, he had been most eager to look upon the cargo she had promised him.
Such pretty things they were too. White-and-gold, black-and-red, and green-and-bronze.
The Sealord had been willing to part with a great deal of gold for them; more money than Elissa could ever imagine existing.
So much gold.
That night, she bought a courtesan for the evening, with blue eyes and dark hair. The lovely woman and her nimble fingers ad tongue made Elissa scream long and hard into the late hours, and it had felt so very good.
In the next two years, she hired the finest shipwrights in the city to help bring her dream to life, the Sunchaser.
She made sure to help with any and all parts of the process when she could.
59 AC
There it stood before her, and she was beautiful beyond compare, beautiful and mighty, as she floated in the harbor.
The product of two long and happy years; The Sunchaser.
Such a proud-looking vessel, this carrack.
Soon, it would set sail.
She looked all about her, at the city that had been her home for the past two years. She would miss it, with its canals, temples, bravos, courtesans, bridges, and shipyards.
But the Sealord had been adamant. She was too dangerous for Braavos to safely hold since King Jaehaerys was calling for her head and since the visit of the King's own Hand to the city, Lord Celeborn.
But Elissa was not one who was so easily cowed. No man or woman would cow her, or break her.
She was like the sea, after all, and the sea could not be broken.
She had her ship and the beginnings of a crew…
She sailed for Oldtown the next day. It was a week of calm waters, with the melody crooning in her ears.
She sailed into Oldtown harbor under the name 'Alys Westhill,' and advertised for a crew while stocking up on foodstuffs and wine and water and supplies.
While she had offered thrice the normal wages that most sailors received, a practical part of her mind had not been expecting much in way of sailors; sellsails eager for coin and adventure, sea-faring small folk looking for work and a way out of poverty, men fleeing from debts and things, and perhaps a few crusty old salts looking for one last adventure before they returned to the sea.
To her amazement, her advertisements attracted the attention of Eustace and Norman Hightower, grandsons of Manfred, nephews of Beren Hightower, and renowned mariners in their own rights.
She had thought they had come to arrest her per the king's orders (and, indeed, they had later admitted to considering the idea). Instead, they came to join her, adding their own considerable resources, and ships, to the mix.
With their patronage and good names, her crew rapidly swelled with eager sailors and workers (though the gold probably helped as well).
By the time the Order of the Dragon and the Oldtown soldiers caught up, Elissa and her new companions, plus greatly enlarged crews and supplies, were already sailing away towards the setting sun. The Sunchaser, accompanied by Eustace's Lady Ceryse and Norman's Autumn Moon.
But that was not the end of it. Far from it, in fact. Several leagues from Westeros's coasts, they sighted a large Ironborn ship sailing towards them and… waving a white flag of truce.
Several decried it as a trick, Elissa was intrigued. She let the carrack draw up alongside the Sunchaser. A moment later, the captain was aboard, alone as a sign of good faith.
To Elissa's slight surprise, the captain was a woman. She was tall and willowy with dark-red hair and eyes that never seemed to stay one color, which that stared out from a tanned and scarred face. Yet, there was clear muscle beneath her leathers and chain. The sword and ax that hung on her back and at her hip, their handles looked well-worn and well used.
Her name was Sigrid Farwynd of the Lonely Light, and she and her crew wanted to join Elissa's expedition, having heard word of her proposed voyage from the mainland.
It was surprising, as Ironborn were not normally so willing to work with those they deemed 'greenlanders.' Elissa had been about to refuse, until Selkie looked straight at her, and mentioned that she too heard the melody.
At that moment, it rose to a kindly crescendo in Elissa's ears. She could tell that Sigrid heard it too.
The next day, they sailed further out, now a group of four; Sunchaser, Lady Ceryse, Autumn Moon, and Nagga's Fin.
Days turned to weeks, and into a few months, as the four sailed on. Past even the isle of Farwynd, where they briefly stocked up further and sailed further.
As they sailed through storms and calms and winds and waves and whales and even a few krakens, the crews of all four ships all became tighter than blood. They were a family, bound by salt and sweat and tar and ropes and winches and wine and water and waves. Elissa felt herself growing particularly close to Sigrid Farwynd, with her dark eyes and great manner, and her giant, eagle-sized pet white raven Günnar, who seemed to know more than a giant white raven ever should. The Ironborn taught her more ship-board combat, and sparred with her in their free times, teaching Elissa how to fight with ax and shield in hand. To her happiness, during their sessions, Elissa soon discovered that the Ironborn woman felt the same way about her when, after a particularly hard spar, Sigrid kissed her.
When Elissa and Sigrid made love for the first time, it was on the deck and under the stars. In their passion, their bodies undulated and moved and rose and fell with the ebb and flow of the tides against the ship. Unlike on the mainland, no one made any fuss or clamor about it. You learned to look past such things on a ship, after all.
The only downside was the lack of exotic lands that they discovered. All they did find were three uninhabited islands. At best, they were a mountain attended by two medium hills.
They made landfall, restocked, repaired, and pondered what to do next. Some thought they had gone far enough, and others agreed with Elissa's desire to head further west.
Autumn Moon had been battered and cracked by the last storm they had braved through. Unwilling to abandon his brother, Eustace stated that the Lady Ceryse would tow the Autumn Moon to the Summer Isles for repairs, and then they would sail home to Oldtown. They were satisfied with their discovery of the three Islands. After all, it was further than any had gone before. Besides, there was always next time.
Elissa was saddened to see them leave their ad-hoc family of mariners, but it was their choice.
At daybreak, two days later, the company parted ways, two ships back towards the east…and two ever onward towards the west.
It would be the last time she ever saw them…
After a week of further sailing, the storm hit.
It started with increasing winds and then continued with rising waves, and the waters becoming rougher the farther they sailed. Then, the skies began to darken, with rumbling thunder, and lightning that danced in jagged ways across the sky.
They could not see the stars.
As the waves and winds butted and smashed against the hulls, the sound of a large and loud Crack signaled the beginning of the end.
A large split in the mainmast, and it was threatening to snap in two, alongside strange bursts of lightning. One caught the sails on fire. Another scorched the deck, frying a man to pieces. It was almost as if the storm was targeting the Sunchaser.
Though it tore at her heart, Elissa quickly ordered that the crew abandon ship, and transfer to Nagga's Fin.
Elissa refused to be the first off of the ship, despite Sigrid's protestations. Her crew, those men and women who had served under her these past months, they came first. Them, and all they could safely transport.
As the last of the crew were hustled into the tied lifeboats, Elissa saw what appeared to be one member still left on board, on the forward deck.
She could not really make out who it was, through the whipping rain. She ran towards them, shouting for them to get on the boats.
They did not move.
Lightning flashed overhead.
She reached the crew member. They were wrapped in a dark cloak.
She put her hand on the figure's shoulder and turned them around-
Purple eyes and silver hair…
"Rhaena?" she gasped.
The impossible figure life up a hand, upon which gleamed a single band of gold…
A moment later, the knife slipped between her ribs, and pain exploded across her being.
The ringed hand then clamped down on her neck, holding her as the dagger flashed again and again and again.
As Elissa collapsed to her knees, blood pouring down her chest, the woman she once loved looked at her, her purple eyes glowing like a setting sun.
"In the end… you are still nothing."
There was another crack of lightning, and the Queen in the East dissipated with the wind.
A moment later, the mast snapped in twain, and Elissa lost all consciousness from the pain…
She woke up to searing pain and the sound of roasting flesh.
With a strangled scream, Elissa shot up, and hurriedly wiped off the embers and hot wood that had fallen upon her chest.
It hurt to breathe… but she was alive.
Gingerly, with a rattling breath, she looked about.
The Sunchaser was barely keeping together, singed and broken about, held together by twisted rigging and luck. Elissa was honestly surprised that the carrack was even still floating.
She dragged herself up against the remaining mast, and then, steeling herself, looked down.
Elissa Farman was made of stern stuff. The sea was in her blood, after all. But what she saw… it was a wonder that she did not faint again.
Her entire chest was a mess of dried blood and seared flesh. Every movement was filled with agony.
Wine. She needed wine. Something, anything to drink.
The sound of a raven's cry made her look up from her wounds.
Perched before her was Sigrid's white Raven, Günnar… and his black eyes were swiftly shifting colors.
Like Sigrid's…
Elissa swallowed, her throat like sand.
"Wine," she croaked to the bird. "I need wine. Or ale. Please."
Günnar cocked his head at her, and then spread his wings and flapped away.
Perhaps she was mad, the pain driving her to insanity. She had just asked a bird to get her wine. Did he even really understand?
It hurt so much.
Several moments later, the flapping of wings announced the bird's return… and a large bottle was clutched in his talons.
He gingerly alit onto the deck, and then nudged and rolled the bottle forward with his feathered head.
Perhaps she was insane. But it was better than dead.
With a shaking hand, she picked up the bottle. It was full.
She uncorked it, and then proceeded to take a good long pull from it, the wine slaking her burning thirst in her throat. It was simple, it tasted sour, and it was utterly fucking delicious.
Then, she tore a long piece from her tattered sleeve and put it into her mouth with a thick piece of timber. Günnar simply watched as, after a few breaths, she poured some of the rest of it onto her wounds.
It was a wonder that she did not bite through the wood at that moment, as the alcohol stung deeply into her wounds.
She looked around, past her ravaged ship- no, her hulk.
There was nothing around her but empty ocean, for leagues and every direction… and Günnar, who hopped to her side, and nuzzled his hand under her hand.
She could feel the waves pushing the boat ever about… pushed forward.
The melody was kindly in her ears.
Onward. Ever onward, towards where the sun would set. It was beautiful, that sun, as it hung low in the late afternoon sky.
She felt so tired. So very tired.
But she was a sailor. A Farman.
She would die on her feet.
In a few swallows, she downed the rest of the simple and sour wine, and then let the bottle drop from her fingers onto the deck, where it rolled away.
With a groan of pain hissed through gritted teeth, she gripped onto the mast behind her, and slowly, slowlypulled herself up to her feet. Her grip was still tight.
Her breathing rattled about in her throat as she gingerly, gingerly made her way to the ship's wheel. She nearly fell several times, but she would not fall.
She would die on her feet, overlooking the horizon, like a true and proper sailor, and like a true and proper explorer.
Miraculously, the wheel was undamaged.
She draped herself against it, barely upright. On the railing next to her, Günnar perched himself.
That horizon… it was just so beautiful.
Wait… was that…
Yes, yes it was!
Land! That was land! She had done it! A new land!
The melody in her ears turned sonorous and grand, and she laughed and whooped for joy as tears streamed down her face.
"I've done it!" she cried out into the clear sky. "I've done it! I am something! I am me!"
She was so excited; she could not wait to explore it. New peoples to meet, new sights to see!
As the Sunchaser drew closer, the melody grew grander still. Before her, there rose a great and grand figure from the water's depths. He seemed as tall as the Hightower, with skin like the water from which he had emerged, and armor like that of coral. His bearded face was kindly, and his deep eyes were full of wisdom. It reminded her of her father.
Slowly, she removed herself from the helm, and dragged herself towards the prow of the ship, with a hand reached out towards the towering figure, and towards the new land.
A moment later, she fell lightly to the water below. Then, someone caught her.
It was a beautiful woman, taller than the tallest man, and she cradled Elissa in her arms as one would a child. Her skin was luminous, and her shining hair was so long, it seemed to thread into the ocean around them.
The radiant woman looked at her with kindness and kissed her gently upon her brow.
The giant figure then reached down towards Elissa, and the radiant woman deposited her into his hand, a hand that seemed the size of a lifeboat.
Gently, he brought her up before his great face.
THOU HAST TRAVELED FAR, DAUGHTER OF THE SEA, DAUGHTER OF MINE HEART. THY JOURNEY AND PAIN ARE AT AN END. THE WIND WAS YOUR STEED, AND NOW THOU HAST COME HOME AT LAST. REST NOW, KNOWING THAT YOU HAVE LIT THE WAY, AND THAT THY NAME SHALL BE SUNG UPON THE LIPS OF ALL WHO DWELL UNDER MINE EYE.
REST, AND BE AT PEACE.
Yes. Rest. That sounded lovely. As lovely as the melody that now crooned so gently in her ears.
She was so tired, after all.
In a life of sea and ships and love and heartbreak… she held no regrets.
Now, she could rest.
Elissa Farman closed her eyes, and let the melody carry her, far away.
At long last, she was home…
The Eternal
The Lonely Light
With a gasp, they who were currently called Sigrid Farwynd opened their eyes and rose from their bed.
Tregor Farwynd, their body's nephew, looked up at their awakening. "What is it, oh great one? What have you seen, that your mind was away for so long?"
"Paradise," said they who were currently Sigrid Farwynd, as tears rand down their face. "We have seen paradise."
They then stood up. "Gather the rest of the house, the rest of our family. There is much work yet to be done."
Sothoryos
62 AC
To whosoever finds this journal, know that these are the last words and writings of Ser Eustace Hightower, brother of Norman, grandson of Manfred Hightower, son of Martyn, and nephew of Beren.
For over half a year, I, my brother, and what remain of our crews have been marooned on this… this hell.
Sothoryos. A land that not even the Valyrians would colonize. A land that even my uncle's own beloved elves would wash their hands of it.
This land… it is hell. Sure, there are riches here to found; gold, emeralds, spices and such… but such treasures are not worth even a moment upon this gods-forsaken land.
We have learned very quickly to not venture into the forests at night and to keep the fires lit at all times on the beach. Even then, some of the monsters still venture out. We have taken to tying ropes through the openings in the trees, strung through with anything that can rattle.
Every day, we lose more and more men. We are less than half of what we were now, the rest lost to death and strange diseases and fevers; skin sloughing off, blood leaking from cock and eyes and ears and arse, tiny worms in the water.
This is hell. If you are reading this, then the merciful thing to do would be to slit your own throat.
If you read this and can escape, then beg and plead with the Targaryens to take their dragons and burn this hell to ash and cinders.
It won't be long now until nightfall, and until we lose the strength to fight off the beasts that dwell within. And they know it, the monsters.
By the gods, they know.
With a ragged sigh, Eustace, shut the journal, and emerged from the beached hull of the Autumn Moon, and towards the firepits and trenches set around the perimeter of their camp.
The sun had almost finished setting.
Norman nodded at him; his grip tight on his bow as the men lit the perimeter fires. "Brother."
"Brother."
Norman swallowed. "When do you think they will strike?"
"The minute the sun finishes setting. Doubtful we'll last the night this time. Those bastards know it, too."
Eustace sighed. "Aye. So be it. At least we'll die with weapons in hand."
He then signaled to his first mate, Annakko Swann, known to the crew as 'Anaconda' due to his great height, and his thick and rippling muscles.
The first mate nodded and readied his goldenwood bow, a thing so massive that it would have taken two or three men to draw back on it.
He nocked an arrow to the bow and drew back the string with one hand. The rest of the men who could shoot readied their own bows and windlass crossbows. The rest drew swords and axes and clubs.
Behind them, the sun finished setting.
Everything went quiet, deathly so.
No one dared to even breathe.
One moment…
Two heartbeats…
Three…
The ropes twanged and rattled, and a loud roar filled the air!
"Here the bastards come! Nock and loose! Send them back to hell!" Eustace bellowed.
As the first swarm of the monsters barreled out of the jungle forest, the men let loose their arrows, sending many of the first wave down to the Seven hells.
But they kept coming. By the gods, they kept coming, through the arrows and the fire. The air was soon filled with screams of men and monsters and blood.
Eustace hacked off the head of a thing with fangs and thick arms.
They would not survive the night.
Soon enough, the arrows ran out, the fires were stamped out and the men were whittled down bit by bit.
They were all going to die.
Side by side, the remainder stood, as they readied for the next wave, with their backs to the ocean.
Eustace looked towards Norman, who held his ax tight.
A single nod.
The monsters came closer.
Eustace raised his bloody sword high. "WE LIGHT THE WAY!"
As one, the men roared and charged forward. They would die, but by the goods, would they make the bastards work for it!
Then, out of forests came another cry, strong and firm, so much unlike the guttural roars of the monsters.
"Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!"
Out of the woods came a veritable wave of steel and bellows and stooped figures and flashing weapons.
The strange wave fell upon the monsters, this time filling the air with the screams of dying creatures.
Eustace and the others watched in dumfounded shock at the sight before them.
Soon enough, the slaughter had ended, and the few surviving creatures loped back into the woods with whimpers and screams.
Their strange saviors looked around, and then towards the Oldtown sailors.
Half of them were like the strange ape-men that Eustace and the others had glimpsed and fought off over the year, except these looked better groomed and wore metal armor.
The other figures were, for lack of a better description, squat, and bristling with well-crafted arms and armor and helmets.
One of them approached, and took off its helmet, to reveal a square face framed by a great, bristling beard and hair that fell down to its waist.
Its nose looked much-broken, and its eyes gleamed with insight.
It looked like an ibbenese, but not as hairy.
"Apologies for not coming sooner, longlegs," it said, with an accent like grating stones. "Come. Methinks there be much to discuss."
When Eustace and Norman Hightower returned from Elissa Farman's ill-fated journey, they and the remnants of their crew were not alone.
They were accompanied by iron ships that crested from beneath the waves. They were crewed by strange folk; short and squat they were, with great beards and weapons and armor and things.
Some thought them ibbenese, but these were not the furred whalers of Essos.
These were the dwarves…
From A History of the Realms and its Races
Penned by Maester Gorman
57 AC
Braavos
Allaquo liked to think of himself as an average Braavosi, let alone an Average Sealord; he was never needlessly cruel, he paid his respects to the Faceless men and the Iron Bank and he did his best to govern the people whilst keeping the merchants and other factions from tearing each other apart.
Of course, he did have his vices; he loved the touch of women, and he was always weak to the lure money, and never turned down a deal that was sure to net him more.
Deals such as the one he had just made.
But, unlike all the others, he was beginning to have second thoughts.
Still, there was no going back now, despite his reservations. Far too late.
He carried the chest with the eggs down to the cavernous cellars of the Sealord's palace.
Once he set it upon the stone floor, he swallowed and spoke out. "I have them. As I promised."
One by one, the cellar's torches went out until there was naught but darkness.
"And they are real?"
Despite the terrible grandeur of the voice, Allaquo remained standing. "Yes. They are."
Behind him, the voice came again. "Good. It is good that you have upheld your end of the bargain."
Shaking, he turned around, and beheld the figure whom he had struck the bargain with, all those months ago; tall and clothed in dark shadow and robes and armor, and a face covered with a strange and alien mask.
The figure practically radiated darkness.
"Bu-bu-but of course," Allaquo stammered. "I… I am a man of my word, after all."
The figure cocked its head at him, and Allaquo felt as if he were an insect and the figure a giant debating whether or not to crush him underfoot.
"Yes. You are. A man of your word, and greed. Still, you have carried out your task to the best of your meager abilities. You have returned that which was stolen from us. You will get your gold, as much as you want. It is only fair, after all."
Allaquo blinked, and, when he opened his eyes, the figure and the chest of dragon eggs were gone….
A/N: I am so sorry for how long this chapter took. Real life is just a pain. I have been working on other stories.
As you can see, things continue to get very, very interesting for Westeros. The dwarves have come. Also, rest assured that Elissa' journey will have great importance down the years. After all, she has lit the way.