Chapter 3: Parchment

It was late into the morning before I had finally gotten out of bed, making sure to give myself a few good pinches to ensure I wasn't still dreaming. Both fortunately and unfortunately, I was not. I lay in bed gazing at the mural above, watching scores of soldiers burning in the field of fire cascading from Balerion's jaws. It wasn't exactly the cheeriest thing to wake up to, but I wasn't here to criticise the Targaryen's interior design choices. I hauled myself out of bed, padding across the cold stone floor to the balcony, where I looked out onto the chaos of the hot morning. I saw the tiny specks of the inhabitants bustling about their day, some laden with baskets full of baked goods and exotic spices. Others were slinking through the cramped streets, nabbing anything they could get their hands on. For all the vibrancy and colour present in the castle, it was a shame to see so much brown and beige below. These people could not afford such luxuries. I shuddered to think what would have happened had we landed anywhere else. Would we have looked like those starving people, desperate for any morsel to bring them sustenance? I shook the thought from my head as I poked myself out of the door, wanting to see if any of my friends were awake. The corridor was silent but in front of all the doors had been place several large wooden trunks, each inlayed with a dragon head lock. I grabbed the handle, heaving the heavy article into my room and setting it at the foot of the bed. I hesitated, wondering if Otto had perhaps set a trap to remove us entirely, before lifting the dragons head and opening the chest. My hand dropped to my side as I ogled the contents. Under a small scroll lay piles upon piles of fabric. Dresses, skirts, corsets, trousers, and shoes, filling the chest to the brim. All were of exquisite design. I pulled one of the organza skirts from the heap, feeling it's feather texture on my fingers. I saw all the intricate details and embroidery and pondered how they were able to acquire such garments in record time. The skirt in my hands was coloured a beautiful purple with a turquoise overlay, the top portion embroidered with azaleas and amaryllis. Inside the trunk, I found a matching off shoulder top, the fabric crisscrossing to provide a sensible amount of cleavage. Running along its lower edge sat more flowers which climbed slightly up the front, dispersing as they went. It was cut short like what I had arrived in. I hadn't seen anything like this in King's Landing before. Curious, I grabbed the note and broke the seal.

My guests,

The King would like to me to officially welcome you with these gifts. He had the seamstresses up into the night to ensure you had something more comfortable to wear. I do hope these suit your needs. If you require anything else, do let the servants know.

Yours,

Queen Alicent.

My cheeks grew red as I remembered the previous night. I had politely complained to Viserys on the nature of our outfits but never imagined he would go to such trouble to ensure our comfort. I hummed to myself, smiling. But of course, he would, no King was as kind as Viserys and I appreciated the gesture, especially since he had made such an effort into tailoring the fits to suit our unusual taste. I settled on the purple set, pulling it on before looking in the high mirror beside the wardrobe. I hardly looked like myself. It fit perfectly, not a pinch or synch in sight. I was thrilled and twirled like a child in her new princess dress. Composing myself, I went out to gather some company and explore our new surroundings.

It was Malina, Mark and Josh who decided to join me. We all marvelled at our new threads before venturing out into the courtyard. The hot sun was a huge improvement to the bitter cold of Scotland. I closed my eyes to feel it's light warming me as we walked, Malina linking her arm in mine while Josh and Mark chatted behind. Malina had chosen a low plunged scarlet dress. Her bodice had vines like Alicent's dress the night before splayed across it, with a large shimmering rose meeting one of her hips.

Josh had barked loudly when they opened their trunk seeing all the black and green tunics and overcoats they had provided, each stamped with lavish patterns and textiles. They eventually abandoning them entirely for simple midnight blue breeches, high boots and a white undershirt. They reminded me of a very flamboyant pirate, their wild hair and goatee completing the look nicely.

Mark's wardrobe on the other hand was a vast improvement. After seeing him the night before, the King had gifted an extravagant array of frills, ruffles, and dramatic designs. This morning he had chosen a golden waistcoat to wear over a tight black shirt. His trousers would have been rather dull in their simple forest green had there not had a dramatic ruffled skirt billowing behind it. He beamed over his new look, stating how much he wished to be able to design stuff like this at home. I smiled back, enjoying his glee.

Even though we looked far more at home in our new clothes, we still received grunts and stares from the nobility strolling the gardens. The Ladies turned their noses up while the Lords ogled us with such persistence, I almost went and slapped them. Regardless, they were still treating us better than I expected. Word of our deeds had no doubt spread and I couldn't blame them for a hint of animosity. In all fairness, I was actually very surprised that none of them approached and called us heathens or witches.

We turned away from the gardens when the topic of my task came up,

"According to the King, his son is the most intelligent person you could ask for, besides the Maesters. I'm sure you'll find the answer soon." Malina chimed, squeezing my arm reassuringly.

I looked at her with exasperation, "Yes exactly, the son who threatened to slit my throat in broad daylight. What a joy to work with." She looked down, guiltily.

Mark took my hand, "It won't be for long, and then we can leave and forget this ever happened."

Blood of my Blood by Ramin Djawadi

Josh had stopped, looking up at the sky, "Forget? I'm never forgetting this place." I followed his eyes and was about to speak before I heard it. A great drumming was sounding from above. It's rhythm beating through the air getting louder and louder and louder.

Then an ear-splitting roar had us ducking in terror as a great heaving mass launched itself over our heads blocking out all light from our surroundings. I got up and ran full sprint for the terrace as my friends shouted for me to stop, desperate to witness the creature that haunted my dreams, and yet inspired them.

The drumming from her wings had grown to a crescendo and was forcing all matter to cower away. They cast over the water below, turning it murky, dark, and foreboding. Her body was battle worn and scarred but swift and strong as she cut through the air with great speed. And atop her grandeur I saw the flash of white that was the very person whom I was forced to suffer.

Vhagar and Aemond. The power of their bond would cause tales and songs as well as destruction and despair. Still, as I looked on at them, Vhagar's wings dipping low to cut the tide, I couldn't help but be in awe. Dragons. They existed and were even mightier than I had ever believed possible. When I was young, when most girls were imagining princesses, balls, and all sorts of girly junk like that, I imagined dragons. Feeling their power as they took me far away from the world. Soaring high above the clouds, where there was always light and joy and freedom. That's what dragons truly were to me. Freedom.

"Holy fuck!" Josh had caught up to me, his eyes rooted to Vhagar. I grabbed my skirt and jumped onto the stone. Josh, catching on, hauling himself up with me, and there we sat. Leaning on our hands and watching the creatures of legend fly gracefully above our heads.

I had been in the library for almost an hour before Aemond decided to grace me with his presence. It was just around noon and much to my delight, Orwyle had brought a plate of cheeses, grapes, and homemade crackers to keep me occupied. I chewed absentmindedly as I worked through the mile long scroll in front of me. It was a personal account from one of the blood mages on their practices before the Doom. The Valyrian translation book was beside it along with various quills and parchment's I'd borrowed from Orwyle, already splashed with my chaotic notes. I picked up another cracker, loading it with the accompaniments and was about to take a bite when the great doors of the library crashed open.

And there he was. His long black overcoat flapping behind him as he strode, hair slightly dishevelled from his flight. I sighed, looking up slowly to prepare myself for conversation, only to find him already gone. His footsteps faded as the stack of old tomes swallowed him. I was about to rise, only to plop myself back down and shake my head. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of chasing after him. He could come to me when he decided to do as the King had ordained and actually help. Orwyle never batted an eye, his gaze fixed on his current volume, a good indication that this was pretty normal. So I resumed my work slowly, crossing through my previous translation in annoyance having confused several related words. Not long after, Aemond returned carrying a large stack of books. He didn't even so much as look at me as he sauntered past, dropping his selection on the desk behind me. His back turned, he began pouring over them, completely oblivious to my presence. I silently scorned him. If he actually engaged with me then maybe we would be having more success, certainly I would anyway given his fluency in High Valyrian.

After a few hours more, I had gotten much further than I had thought. Valyrian was complicated but followed a general grammatical format which made things easier, though I still struggled with pronunciation. About a half hour ago, I had taken to reciting the words back. It certainly helped me make less errors and I felt it becoming easier to speak the longer the day went on. Unfortunately, my reading companion was not so thrilled.

Eventually, he slammed his book down. He yelled so loudly, Orwyle jumped in surprise, "Enough!" He rose to come and look me dead in the face, "If I have to suffer hearing you butcher my ancestral tongue for one moment more, I may consider ripping out yours and feeding it to Vhagar." He was thoroughly irritated. I, on the other hand, was sick of him. I was sick of his attitude and his lack of consideration.

I leaned back, brandishing my arms at the text in front of me, "If you have a better idea on how to translate this shit, then I'm all ears. I've been at this for hours. You haven't even bothered to help me!"

"'This shit' is five thousand years old. If you want my help so bad then give it here!" he snatched the scroll from the table and scanned the moth-eaten text before rolling it up and tucking it under his arm.

"What the…" I shot up, "Hey! I wasn't finished with that!"

He looked at me bored, "This scroll is useless. The only magic in it is mundane, sleep draughts and dragon candles. It won't help you."

I was fuming by this point, "You tell me this now?!" I threw my stack of papers at his face, not caring how easily he caught them. I just wanting to react somehow, "I spent ages on this, Aemond! If you'd have just gotten off your prissy royal ass and talked to me, maybe I wouldn't have just wasted all this time! Maybe, I could have been spending it on something more productive than remedies and trinkets!" I threw the bottle of ink at his face, but he batted it away with ease, letting the contents spill on the floor. My breathing was ragged. Aemond's eyes had gone wide, and his mouth was slightly ajar. I pondered whether I had pushed it too far, he was a prince after all. He could order his men to lop off my head or feed me to his dragon. But he just stood there, his eyes training on the scraps of paper in his hand. His brow was furrowed as he looked from it to me. And then it faded, he was stone once more. I looked away, putting my hands on the table, and taking in the musty air to calm myself. When I turned around, him and all my notes had disappeared.

When I entered my bedchambers, I slammed the door only to lean my forehead on it, groaning at my misfortune. I was an absolute grade A idiot. How could I have thought that I could find a way home, I couldn't even understand the one section of the library that could hold the most clues. I flopped onto the bed in defeat, fiddling with my skirt lazily. I closed my eyes, hoping to find some peace, when a timid tapping sounded at my door.

"Come in."

It was Husnan. In his dark hand was a steaming mug while his arm held a cosy knitted blanket. Following closely behind were the others. They all filed in and sat on the various furniture lying about.

Husnan sat next to me, handing me the mug, "Hey. We heard what happened. Orwyle thought you would want this." I sniffed the mug, humming at the scent of Rose tea that wafted towards me.

"Thank you," I smiled weakly at them. Josh grabbed the blanket and tossed it over our knees.

Chloe, perching on one of the side tables asked, "So did you find anything useful?"

I frowned, "Nothing but baubles and potions, nothing that will take us back." General frowns circled the room. The air held thick with our collective homesickness. We were all limp shoulders and sour faces. And it was all because of me. Because I wasn't smart enough or persistent enough. I wasn't sure which but neither made me feel any better, "I'm so sorry. I'm failing you all."

Husnan put his arm around me and squeezed, "You're failing no one. You're doing the best you can, that's all we can ask for. We're just sorry we can't be more helpful." I leaned on his shoulder, eyes closing, threatening to weep.

"I still should have come to you. Forgive me," I sighed

"Smile and you're forgiven," he said. I tried to force a small one, holding the blanket close. I took another sip of the sweet tea, letting it warm my soul. We let silence hold the room for a moment. That is until Josh slapped their hands on their knees and hauled themselves up.

"Well, what the hell are we doing moping around here then?" They grinned proudly, "It's not every day we get thrown into a fantastical land of monsters and magic. We should be out of the town, seeing the sites, enjoying what Westeros has to offer."

I laughed at their ridiculousness, "We're not in Barbados, Josh. Westeros is dangerous, besides I don't even want to know what the Queen will do if we sneak out."

They grabbed my hands, holding them up to their chest and pouted at me, "C'mon Eilidh, come. It'll be great. The Queen will never know. Besides didn't Viserys say we could go anywhere. And no stuck-up princes or threats of painful death out there." I smiled fondly at my friend

"Well, the night is still young," I laughed.

I stared around the room. Everyone looking exciting about a night out. So, I threw caution to the winds and nodded. Josh hurrahed in victory, running over to my trunk, and rummaging through the items before throwing me out an outfit. When I raised my eyebrow at them, they simply responded, "You're wearing it. No questions asked." Before bolted out of the door, followed by the rest, desperate to find their party clothes.

I rolled my eyes at the shut door before changing into the dress. Josh had picked well. It was made of a blush pink satin with a low plunge neckline. Along the waist sat a gold corset, the metal weaving into the shape of dragon scales. The fabric fell down my back at each shoulder and just touched the floor. I sat in front of the mirror and tied my hair up in matching braids at the top of my head, letting the rest cascade down my back.

I heard another knock. I got up and opened the door, expecting to see Malina or Chloe but instead I stared at the sullen face of Aemond, or I thought it was him. His hair was out of its tight updo and fell over his eye. He had lost his overcoat and instead stood in only a white shirt and breeches, not even bothering with shoes. He looked wild, his eye held a slew of emotions, I couldn't identify them all. In his hand held the parchment I had thrown at him earlier, scrunched up haphazardly.

"Are you going somewhere?" He asked, taking in my attire.

I was taken aback and frowned suspiciously at him, "None of your business. Can I help you?"

"I- umm…" He took a glance left and right down the corridor, ensuring no one was around before barging past me and shutting the door behind him.

"Uh, Excuse me!" His look rendered me silent. He had never looked at me like this before. It wasn't like the emotions he'd given me before, boredom, anger, disgust. This was something far more raw and real.

"Three hours," He stated. I raised a brow, which caused him to toss the wad at me, "You. An untutored, foreign lowborn with no knowledge of our culture or language, translated five paragraphs in three hours. How?"

I stayed quiet, seeing the chaos radiating from him, desperate for an explanation, "It wasn't easy, you know. But it really isn't any different from learning any other language, you just need to understand the words and the sentence structure, and the rest just comes." He narrowed his eyes. Of course, he didn't believe it could be that simple. I was nothing more than an imbecile to him, or at least I was until now.

He stalked over to me, his bare feet almost touching mine, "You… may have been correct before. Clearly neither of us enjoy each other's company but it would go far quicker if you were able to read everything we required." I gazed at him, still unsure of his intentions. But it almost sounded like an apology from the Great Dragonlord himself. Mark would lose it over this, "So, I clearly have no choice." He took a breath bracing himself for his next words, "I will teach you how to read and speak High Valyrian."

My eyes went wide. I had to refrain myself from trying to pinch my arm again, knowing that if it was a dream I would have clearly woken up by now. Aemond raised his chin, taking up his full stature, exerting his strength and power onto me, "If I teach you, it will be by my rules. Which means you show up when I want, speak only what I wish for you to say and never tell another soul of this." I blinked a few times before nodding my head, still slightly shellshocked at his proposal.

"I won't tell anyone; you have my word." He inclined his head before turning to leave.

"See that you don't," Before he could open the door, I walked over and grabbed his forearm, my mind cursing itself profusely. He stiffened. I felt his bare arm tense under my touch. He kept his eyes on the door as I spoke,

"Thank you, Aemond." This was the first time I had said his name in anything but anger. It felt strange, being grateful to the Dragon Prince, especially since there was no sincerity in his actions, only self-interest. I knew the only reason he was doing this was to be rid of me, but I didn't care. Because of him, I would finally be able to do something useful, to be the saviour my friends needed me to be. He took one look at me, his eye studying me, conflicted. He pressed his lips into a thin line. I thought he was about to say something. But he yanked his arm from me, his scar creasing angrily and stormed out of the room. I had expected nothing less from his frozen, dead heart. But still, with him lied some hope. Not much but enough.