Dragonstone. Need to get to Dragonstone.
This thought had been present in her mind ever since she woke up in a peasant's hut where an elderly woman calling herself Arla, a village healer, tended to her burns and broken bones. It turned out Arla's daughter Rose had died after "the dragons fell and the ground shook", and Arla looked for her in the rubble and at first believed to have found her – only to realize it was a stranger.
"I found Rosey later," Arla said, weeping. "She was crushed underneath a fallen tree. I... I couldn't have saved her, even if I had stood right next to her."
She bore the strange woman she had saved no grudge. On the contrary, she seemed to believe that it was a blessing, to have someone to lean on after losing all her children (her other daughter, Daisy, had died in childbirth years ago).
"I'll call you Violet, for the color of your eyes," Arla said. "Must be one of them dragonseeds."
That's when the vague restlessness that newly-named Violet had felt since her awakening turned into something more concrete. Dragonstone. I'm a dragonseed, the home of my ancestors must be there.
But she couldn't leave Arla, not like this. The woman had saved her life, and now, half-crazed by the loss of her child, believed her to be another of her daughters. Violet knew that if – when – she went to Dragonstone, she'd have to take the old healer with her.
Violet knew nothing of how she received her wounds. Arla told her that there had been a dreadful battle between three dragons, all because the children of the late king couldn't decide which of them was to rule. But Violet didn't remember anything – her mind went entirely blank whenever she tried to remember what her life had been like before she opened her eyes in Arla's house.
The Sowing of the Seeds. There was a call from Dragonstone, for everyone who had dragon's blood in them to try and claim one of the riderless dragons, to help Queen Rhaenyra in her battles.
Now the urge in Violet's heart became stronger than ever. Suddenly, she longed to fly, to feel the rough scales of a dragon's neck beneath her hands and the blue sky around her. It was like a dream calling her, begging her to go to Dragonstone and rise up to the challenge.
"Don't you think of it, my girl!" Arla said at first. "Those dragons almost got you killed!"
Thankfully, just a few days later, her grandchildren – the sons and daughters of Daisy (Rose had died childless) – came to her, anxious about whether she had survived the battle. Surrounded by the children of her own true blood, Arla gradually came back to her senses, and Violet began to feel more and more like the odd one.
When she spoke about going to Dragonstone again, Arla didn't object. She did give her a purse of money and some food for the road, but Violet quietly offered that purse to one of Arla's grandsons as payment for bringing her to the Narrow Sea.
The young man, rather resentful of their already-tight money being handed away to a stranger, agreed happily.
If you don't get to your Dragonstone, you might return and leech off us again, she could tell that he was thinking.
He brought her to a small, secluded cove slightly to the north of Duskendale.
"That's where the Queen's loyal people stop by," he said. "Don't leave the place – the greens' men might find you, these fuckers are all around the place."
Violet thanked him heartily and told him to bring her utmost gratitude to Arla.
"If I ever can," she said, "I will reward you."
He looked highly doubtful, and as he was leaving, she heard him mutter: More likely, you'll get swallowed by those beasts.
Could she trust him? She wasn't certain. For all she knew, this cove was known to the greens and they would seize her at any moment.
Well, Violet thought, breaking off a willow branch and sharpening in with the stones lying around in plenty, if they do, I won't go down without a fight.
She was one of the blacks, she just knew it. Not only because Arla spoke in support of Queen Rhaenyra. There was something more – something... something she had forgotten.
The Mouse, the ship was called. When the sailors saw her – burned and terrifying, Violet knew how she looked – they took her for a ghoul of some kind and readied their crossbows, but their captain, a short woman with bright eyes and confident grace, shouted at them:
"Fools! Don't you see those are dragonfire burns?"
She took Violet aboard the cog (it had been doing some spying for the blacks and only turned towards the cove because sometimes, there were messages left from those sympathetic to Rhaenyra). Violet's wounds, though by now turned to scars, needed cleaning up to avoid infection, she declared, and did it herself.
"My name is Marilda, Marilda of Hull," she told her. "I'm from Driftmark – always was a friend to the blacks."
While she was washing Violet's face, her eyes suddenly grew wide and she jerked away in shock, as if bitten by a snake.
"What's the matter?" Violet exclaimed, looking around to see if there really was a snake somewhere in the cabin.
"F-forgive me," Marilda muttered. "Do you truly not remember anything?"
"I only know I need to get to Dragonstone," Violet confessed. "The woman who nursed me to health... she said I was a dragonseed."
"That you certainly are," the captain said, glancing at her in a weird way.
"How can I ever repay you?" Violet asked Marilda as the gray towers of Dragonstone were getting closer. Her heart fluttered, and she felt more relaxed and happy than ever before. I'm coming home. I know that. "At least with Arla, I helped her with the house, but with you, I had sailed as a passenger."
"I don't need payment... only..." the captain grasped her hands and looked earnestly into her eyes. "Please, can you do one thing for me?"
"Of course. What is it?"
"Protect my sons!" Marilda said, her usually calm voice trembling.
"Y-your sons? Are they on Dragonstone?"
"Yes! They are called Addam and Alyn. I don't care what happens to me, but promise me to do all you can to make sure they survive this bloodbath!"
"I... but, Marilda, I can't wield weapons, and I'm still not sure if I'll even claim a dragon. I don't want to make promises I can't keep."
"I know you can't do everything... none of us can. Just, please, swear to me to protect Addam and Alyn as long as it's in your power."
Violet felt her eyes sting as she looked at the captain. Somehow, she knew what the latter was probably feeling right now... Did I, too, have children?
"I swear," she said, hugging Marilda. "I give my word that for so long as it depends on me, Addam and Alyn, sons of Marilda of Hull, will not come to any harm."
Tears stained Marilda's weatherbeaten face, and suddenly she kissed Violet's hand as if Violet were some noble lady:
"Thank you! Oh, thank you! I beg of you, forgive me!"
"Forgive you... for what?" Violet blinked. "You've been nothing but good and kind to me. Are you saying... are you saying you met me in my past life?"
"I can still be mistaken... and I didn't want to raise your hopes... and mayhaps I was a coward," Marilda said. What nonsense – someone who spied on the greens' domain right under the greens' noses couldn't be cowardly. "But we will know soon, and maybe you – you will remember."
"You saved me, Marilda! Whatever bad blood was between us, if I remember it, it was in the past. I can swear that..."
"No. You told me you don't want to make empty promises. Please... don't swear to be my friend."
Violet was torn between anger, confusion and hope. She couldn't help but be slightly angry that the captain had apparently recognized her and kept silent during the entire voyage, she couldn't make head or tail of her strange hints about their enmity, but most of all she was suddenly full of actual hope, of hope of getting her life back.
Whatever that life held, I need it. It's mine by rights, the memory of what I was, and I don't want it torn from me.
A young silvery-haired lad met them on the shore.
"My son, Alyn," Marilda said proudly. The youth smiled uncertainly at Violet, and she smiled back, feeling an odd feeling rise in her heart at the sight of him. He reminded her of someone – but of whom? Was it because of his purple eyes, so similar to her own?
"I'm Violet," she said. But Marilda shook her head and turned to Alyn:
"Fetch Lord Corlys at once. Tell him that the Red Queen's rider may be alive."