Adara

Though they had struck an alliance of circumstance in the face of a greater threat - or had been forced to, more like - Adara still knew very little of the true nature of the Earthsingers.

That left her wary

Attempting to navigate her way out of the cave systems where the score of them she'd come to know dwelt left her wary and frustrated.

For all that they loved their wild lands and their deep forests and venerated their pale, red-leaved trees above all else, the green folk chose to dwell below it all, following twisting snow-white roots down into the dirt and the dark and carving their homes where no man or beast would ever think to look for them

And what homes they were - impossibly long-winding crawlways that led to hollowed-out earthen halls or grander caverns of such maddening size that twenty tall men could stand atop one another's shoulders and still not be able to reach the lowest of the hanging stalactites that grew down from above. Other steeper and more precarious tunnels led to hardpacked dead-ends, or worse, opened up over treacherous pits so deep that no poor fool who fell into their depths would ever be heard from again.

The greatest strife, however, was the absence of light so far below the earth. The Earthsingers were born with eyes the color of bronze, yellow-gold or amber that glinted like gemstones in the shadows and let them navigate the darkness of their deepest caverns as easily as they could sprint in the forests that grew above them, but Adara was not so lucky.

Her vision was sharp - perhaps sharper than the ordinary, even - but the blackness that pervaded the dwellings of the green folk was nigh-absolute save for the strange, moist and wriggling creatures that lined the walls of a precious few caverns and shone with inner light in shades of blue and green.

Even then, their brilliance could do only so much to light the way. A few paltry sparks, fight against the ever-present dark.

How very fitting, given everything that was to come.

In the end, Adara could make her way to and from the earthen prisons where she'd stashed the two princelings she'd appropriated, but marching through the unyielding darkness was never an easy journey. That she steadfastly clung to her dignity and refused to have the Earth singers lead her about like a helpless child was perhaps a failing, but she could not bring herself to care no matter how much greater her grief was for it.

And it was greater - by the time she stumbled and tripped her way back to to surface of this strange isle after leaving the elder of her two captives in the care of their mutual hosts, her palms were bruised, her knees were battered and her irritation was simmering beneath her skin in a manner that had become as familiar to her as breathing since the moment she'd woken up amidst ice and cataclysmic devastation nary a moon ago.

Adara was no more appreciative of it now than she was then.

The sun rose over the crimson-hewn canopy of the so-named Isle of Faces even as she began to walk along worn dirt tracks that ran across its surface, ignoring the towering and ever so foreboding weirwoods that loomed on either and every side of her with practiced apathy.

At least the dawning light was soothing, and the bleeding-red eyes of the god-trees regarded her with equal indifference.

For now.

Frostsinger was asleep when she finally stepped onto the gravel shore, though he quickly roused as he sensed her approach. The sound of splintering ice and erupting water sprouts rang out as he rose, so incomparably large now that most of his tail and a fourth of his bulk had to rest in the shallow waters along the lake coast and had frozen it solid in turn.

Despite his size, he wasted no time in surging for her. She laughed in long-missed delight as his gargantuan head dropped towards her, the glint of the rising sun reflecting off his horns and scales and setting them ablaze with a glow of marvelous silver-white.

He bumped her with his snout as she drew near, impossibly gentle for a creature so large, and when his eye-slitted eye settled on her it was with the only kind of warmth a creature of ice could possibly come to know, a warmth that he reserved for her and her alone.

"I've missed you too." She whispered and reached with both hands to stroke at his hoarfrost-covered scales. Even the smallest of them was twice as large as her open palm, but she made due, and the contented chiming trill that rang out from between his teeth was proof enough that he was satisfied as well.

Frostsinger sang so sweetly only when he was pleased, and that too was often for her alone to enjoy. It had been what had earned him his name, and it had only grown more fitting with time.

Abruptly, something else drew her attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a tall, shadowed figure darting across the edge of the treeline and pursed her lips at their flickering appearance.

Frostsinger's song stilled, replaced with a thrumming call and the beginnings of a warning snarl as he sensed her happiness shift to unease but she steadied him with a soft call of her own.

"Easy. They have no quarrel with us."

While the Earthsingers called the Isle of Faces home, it was the green men who were its wardens, and those who dwelt on the isle's surface had never once called on her or revealed themselves to her save for whenever she caught a stray glimpse of one of them of her own accord and she was glad for it.

They were not hostile to her presence, not she could tell, and seemingly had no care for either her or Frostsinger or anything but their oaths and their trees, whatever those were, but they were still other and eerie in a way that set her teeth on edge and her shying away from them all the same.

That she could occasionally feel them - or something else - watching her as she went to visit Frostsinger had not endeared them to her, and the strange appearance she'd spotted the one time one drew too close for comfort had only made it worse.

Even the memory of it was startling.

There was so very little of this life that she could recognize, so heavy a burden to carry as it was. She had no wish for more complications, and the green men all but reeked with the threat of them.

"Come." She said, beckoning Frostsinger to her as the figure disappeared from sight. "Let's race the clouds, my lovely."

He crooned softly, eyes still fixed on the spot where the Green man had paused - ever and always so doggedly protective - before huffing in satisfaction and stretching out his gargantuan wing in the same motion she'd seen a thousand times before. Adara scaled it with ease, sprinting and giggling in bubbling joy as she slipped between the spear-like scales and icy frills on his back, nestling herself into that one crook that had remained the same in all the time Frostsinger had grown and wrapping her arms around her favored hold.

"Frostsinger." She called, her smile stretching from ear to ear "Fly."

And her dragon roared his icy agreement, spread his wings and heaved himself upwards into the heavens with a burst of deafening sound akin to a thousand peals of thunder.

...

They soared through the clouds for hours, gliding over plains, forest, hills, and a seemingly endless array of streams and rivers rushing on below, the thrill of the cold winds and the absence of the strange, heavy air of the isle a pleasant change after days of knowing nothing else.

When at last they circled back after roaming for miles and miles, Adara was settled and at peace in the way only flight could leave, pale skin as flushed as it could ever get and with contentment thrumming in her veins.

Though the spot Frostsinger had chosen to land in was a surprise she had not been expecting.

"Did you bring us back to gloat?" She raised a teasing eyebrow at her dragon who huffed in denial and turned to sprawl over the clearing near the opposite shore of the God's eye from where the isle was, settling himself in after their long flight.

Across from them, at the other end of the clearing, the one-eyed would-be kinslayer's dragon lay, head lolled to the side and eyes shut in her forced slumber.

Her wings had several long gashes and rents pockmarking the inner, pale yellow membranes. Her under-belly was littered with scars and her upper half was worse off, with large trenching marks cutting in above her spine where Frostsinger's claws had hooked around her bulk and carried her aloft after his breath had subdued her.

Despite its wounds and Adara's own dispassion towards any fire-born creature of any sort, she could not help but admit to herself that the she-dragon was a gorgeous beast, larger than any other fire drake she had seen or fought in the days long gone, scarcely under a third the size of Frostsinger and with scales the color of faded leaves.

It was impressive, to an extent.

What name had the one-eyed priceling screamed at her? When all four of them had been tumbling down into the storm before that addled fool of a boy had chased after them and nearly gotten himself killed for his efforts in a feat of stupidity Adara still could not comprehend.

Ah, yes.

"Vhagar." She said the name aloud, tasting the foreign word on her lips, and was suddenly seized by surprise when the great beast shifted, rumbling in place weakly and cracking open a single, sluggish eye.

She stepped back as a baleful bronze pupil met her sharp blue, the dragon belting out a hoarse and dangerous growl before Frostsinger surged up behind her and roared a frigid, crackling battle cry so brutal it likely had birds and beasts for miles scattering in terror.

He needn't have bothered. Vhagar's eye was already slipping before he'd even risen, the one cry of protest at the pain and indignity she'd been forced to endure having sapped her of all strength as quickly as it had come.

It was to be expected. Adara knew that if she crossed the distance between them and pressed her hands against those scales, they'd be cold and half-frozen. The price of enduring Frostsinger's fury.

When an ice dragon breathed, it wasn't ice alone that burst out of its crystalline maw. It couldn't be, or else it would never be able to hunt. Its game would either freeze solid and burst from the force of it, or the frost would set into the flesh and spoil the taste.

No, should the ice dragon choose to hunt live prey as Frostsinger had done at her command, their breath would seep into it with a chill beyond the natural, a cold that sunk into the bones and made the flesh go heavy and weak, and it's owner fall into a slumber of the likes of which few ever managed to escape.

It was an ugly, creeping hurt. Adara remembered it well, or something very much like it through the vague recollections of an altogether different kind of pain.

Those last days had been nothing but pain, until the ice had crawled into her lungs and heart and silenced it all for-

She inhaled sharply and shook her head, dismissing those poisonous thoughts and turning her attention back to Vhagar.

Were it an ordinary creature that had been bathed in Frostsinger's cold fyre, they would have never risen at all. Her friend had grown too strong. That Vhagar could even move after days and days of slumber where the other smaller one was little more than an icicle in a cove by the isle was a testament to her strength, but it wouldn't be enough to pose any sort of challenge at all

It must be galling, Adara thought with an emotion approaching pity, for something so large and so great to be brought so low. Vhagar had likely been the undisputed queen of the skies for decades until Frostsinger had burst through the heavens and dragged her off her throne with ice and fury she could not hope to match.

It was tragic, but life often was. It was her dragon who ruled the skies now, and he would rule it forever if she had her way.

And she would, even if there remained so much more to be done.

Adara hardened her heart and turned her back to Vhagar, leaving her to her slow, lonely recovery as she marched back to Frostsinger's side.

"It's time to go back, my lovely."

Frostsinger only crooned his agreement and offered her his wing once more.

...

By the time they landed back on the isle, the sun was high in the sky, though the morning mist still clung in heavy billowing waves by the treeline and refused to disperse, as it was often won't to do.

That was why Adara missed the Earthsinger slipping towards her on on soft-treading feet until Frostsinger suddenly caught the spry creature's scent and growled in deadly warning, barring teeth like jagged spears with cold glowing at the back of his throat.

"No, there's no need." Adara hurried to reassure him, steadying her palms against his snout in an effort to calm him. When at last he settled, she turned to glare at the golden-eyed singer with a hint of real anger in her own. "You very nearly died."

Frostsinger would have frozen her and half the isle had she taken another step towards Adara's unprotected side, her bad side, and been utterly unrepentant about the carnage.

"I meant no harm, but there is news." the words were meant to placate, but the urgency beneath them had Adara's spine straightening and Frostsinger growling again. "The Raven calls."

Oh.

Oh, no.

...

Adara hurried behind the Earthsinger as she led her deeper into the Isle's heart than she'd ever been before, straight into the territory of the Green men.

The closer they drew to their destination, the heavier the canopy of red leaves above grew and the darker everything below grew in turn until the only light left was a pitiful glow reflecting off of the red sap bleeding from the weirwoods and running down their bark in bleeding rivers that seemed to run forever.

When at last the Earthsinger stopped running, Adara had to force herself to swallow and clenched her fists at the sight that awaited them.

A single weirwood stood in the clearing ahead, taller and greater than all the rest before them, though this one had no red leaves to speak of. Instead, it had ravens, dozens and dozens of them, black as pitch perched in rows and stretched over a litany of stretching white branches, all of them deadly still and silent as if frozen in place.

As soon as Adara stepped one foot into the clearing, every raven snapped its beady black eyes to her with unerring, unnatural focus.

"Girl."

All the ravens spoke as one, their voices a warbling cacophony, yet Adara still found her eyes drawn to the one among many, perched on the highest branch of the looming weirwood, a path of white feathers encircling its neck.

"Winterchild."

She swallowed again and took another step forward, meeting the Raven's gaze.

"Raven Of Three Eyes." She called out the stilted greeting, unable to hide the unease and wariness in her voice. Across the island, she heard Frostsinger roar his displeasure, but he did not come for her just yet.

That was for the better. The last time the raven had come to her, it had been in the moments after they erupted from their icy prison. Adara had been so confused, so hurt, her memories a ruined, aching mess, and then the black crow had landed before and cracked her skull open anew without ever touching her.

It poured pictures and visions and meanings into her mind, filled her memory with words and symbols and and even a language that meant little and nothing to her save for the pain that they brought.

Westeros. An iron throne. A dance of fire and blood.

Targaryen.

It was only before the end, where Frostsinger had moved to kill the menace and reduce the forest they had nestled themselves into a frozen ruin that the god - or whatever the Raven truly was - had shown her something with meaning enough to earn her attention.

A threat, blue eyes in the dark so like her own yet devoid of everything but vile hate, coming for all things warm and living, and in time, even her and the dragon who'd chosen her above all others.

That was why Adara had chosen to fly south, father south than she and her people - if the traitors long gone could be called such - had ever imagined the world to stretch, why she had captured the dragon-riding princelings and brought them to this isle, and why even now she stood at the Raven's call and awaited its words.

For Frostsinger first and herself second, and no one else.

But even her patience was coming to an end.

"What is it now?" Adara spoke again when the raven made no further move to speak. "I've done as you asked."

"Both of them are near dead."

So he knew.

"They'll heal. It was no fault of mine that the second dove after us-"

"No. T'was mine own will that sent the Strong boy after you."

Adara paused at that. The fool hadn't followed after them of his own accord, then.

"Then no one is as fault. What more is there to be said? I've broken the kinslayer's stride and brought him and the other one here, to the heart of your power-"

"Not my heart." The raven croaked at once, feathers ruffling in place. "My heart lies to the north."

"Then let me bring them-"

"No. The enemy grows stronger. Its forces are amassing beyond the Builder's wall. Even now, the Giants and the Childen and the rest of the Old ones feel their rousings, but if you of all of them come north again, the enemy will hasten their stride solely to slay you and the world will be doomed for it."

Adara blinked.

"Why?" A horrible thought occurred. "Do they want Frost-"

"The dragon is of no consequence. In the grand tapestry of fate, it is nothing. Merely another beast that has grown stronger and mightier than was its due on account of olden magic. Were it not for that, it would be no more different than any of its other brethren. No, it is you who draws the enemy's ire."

"Me?"

"You. You. You." On every branch of the wierwood, the black crows echoed the word "You, who are touched by cold yet still lay claim to warmth. You, who are touched by cold that has no mercy for fools and yet harbors no malice for the living. You are not simply another foe to the great enemy, but a challenge, and it will not suffer you to live."

"Then what would you have me do?" She said at last, and she did not even attempt to his her frustration and the building rage in her breast. "I was... I was not part of this, you said as much, but you awoke me, awoke us-!"

"Not me." The raven cut her off. "Never me. You should have slept forever, and the song is undone for your presence."

"I do not know what that means."

"You will understand in time. You will. You must. The song is undone, another must take its place."

"I do not know what that means." She tried again, voice rising in over the shuffle of crows. "Why won't you tell me more? I did what you asked, brought the two boys-"

"Not them." The raven croaked. "Not them, no good. One is too soft, and the other is of too much iron, brittle and unwieldy."

"Then why have me seize them?!" It took her a moment to realize that she was screaming, her chest heaving with the force of it. "Why have me do any of this!? What use are they to me if they are not the ones I need!?"

She had to stop the threat. She had to protect Frostsinger. He was all she ever had then and all had left now.

"Both will have their part to play, but they alone will not be the fire to your ice."

"Then who is?"

"You will know in time. You must. The Dragons will dance as one or not at all."

Adara went to speak against that, for those words meant nothing to her, but the raven did not let her draw breath for it.

"Aid will come. The witch of rivers and the daring will answer when the call of blood rises, and the debt of vengeful youth must at last be settled."

The last word rang out with a finality that made the hair on the back of her neck rise in panic, for she still didn't understand.

Then, the raven spoke one final time.

"Go now. You should not have left the fools to themselves."

It took her a long, dreadful moment to comprehend those words. Then it dawned on her, and she cursed in cold dread and turned to bolt back to the warren she'd left behind.

As she ran, the crows began to howl and disperse, a great cloud of black feathers and sharp words howling around and for her in a way that she would never forget for as long as she lived.

"Stop them. Save them. Make them bow. You must, you must, you must."

...

Adara dove into the tunnel she'd left behind, heedless of the darkness as she sprinted further underground and back to the cavern where she'd left her charges.

When at last she burst into it, she only had a moment to be grateful for the glow of the firepit before she caught sight of the younger of two, eyes cloudy and half-mad with delirious rage as he hefted a rock high above the other.

She moved, but not before the black-haired boy screamed and brought the rock down. The elder of the two was saved the fate of having his skull cracked open and spilled across the dirt when he lashed in a brutal, desperate kick that flung the boy back. Rather than taking off his head, the stone landed roughly on his chest instead and left him heaving in agony.

The younger boy screamed again, still half-mad as he rose and surged forward to attack again, but Adara was already there and she tackled him to the ground with all the force she could muster. His head snapped back against the earth and he stilled.

She froze, before exhaling shakily when she caught the tell-tale rise and fall of his chest.

"He should not have been here."

She turned to catch sight of the Earthsinger slipping in from the tunnel behind her, yellow eyes alight with concern.

"He is still half-dead and suffering. The paste we've been feeding him must have granted him enough strength to rise and attack like a beast driven by instinct, but that is all. He is not ready, not yet. Neither of them is"

Adara heard the words, but they sounded distant to her ears. She rose to her feet, feeling unsteady and unnaturally light-headed, and turned to where the elder princeling lay heaving and shaking in the dirt, his one act of self-defense robbing him of what little strength he'd mustered.

"He could have killed him. I need them, I need them both, and he almost died."

The Earthsinger stepped back, ever so slightly, wariness in her gaze.

"We did not expect them to recover so quickly. I will have a guard placed on them."

Adara did not hear her, or offer any answer of her own. She merely looked first to the silver-haired princeling, before turning her gaze to the one at her feet.

She thought of all she had to do, and all she didn't know to do because the raven told her little and nothing despite her efforts. She thought of the past, of the betrayal and the pain, and to the future, of the enemy and the threat, and all she stood to lose.

Frostsinger.

And then, quite abruptly and without any warning at all, she collapsed and burst into tears.

...

On the other end of the God's Eye, deep in the bowels of the monstrous Harrenhall, a witch awoke from her slumber.

Alys Rivers, the bastard daughter of Lyonel Strong, roused and blinked up at the bricked roof of her chambers in stunned disbelief.

Once, twice, three times.

Then she threw back her head and laughed, long and deep and loud, the mad cry ringing through the halls of Harren's Folly in a way nothing had and ever would again.

...

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