Turning back towards the assembly of what was left of the slaves she paused for only the briefest of moments as the air seemed to pulse in time with the beating of her heartbeat. Brandishing her wand, she disassembled the tent and placed it within her beaded bag.
Staring off into the distance, she let out a shocked laugh as the gryphon that she thought had left her stranded in the height of battle slowly appeared in the silhouette of the skyline. Another not far behind it.
It's mate! It went back to gather it's mate!
"Get on the horses, we journey now to Pentos. No stopping."
She never did hear the softly spoken words echo in the air as they made their way towards the city.
"Mother"
The acrid smoke clung to Hermione's hair, and the crackle of fiendfyre echoed in her ears even as the world around her grew quiet. The only sound around her were the deep blasts of wind as the gryphon pair flew through the air. Circling back around the slaves as they rode on the backs of the few remaining horses.
She hadn't intended on leaving a graveyard in the desert. Her wand felt hot in her holster, as if the spell's fury, her fury, lingered still in its core. The loss of Thornos and the small child reached a primal part of her, it had seemed necessary, but necessity did not quiet the storm within her.
It didn't help that Melisandre was practically kissing the ground that she walked on. Treating her as a goddess taken human skin. The unease that she created when around the younger woman struck deep, the only solace she had was taking to the sky upon the back of her gryphon.
When the group finally arrived at the gates of Pentos three days later, she was struck by the city's beauty. It's terracotta roofs glowed under the setting sun, and the air hummed with latent magic. As much as she admired the charm of one of the ancient cities of Essos, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was an intruder. A lost traveller seeking penance in a city that owed her nothing.
"I'll let you speak to the guards, Melisandre. Let them know I'm searching for someone by the name of Misagaenys. These people follow where I go, so if we need to, have them find us a place to stay."
"Yes, of course my lady. As you command."
"Who approaches the city of Pentos?" one of the guards called, voice steady, though his hand lingered near the hilt of his sword. He's heard plenty of the red priests and priestesses. Of whispers about miracles and madness, to have one enter the city and with such a large travelling party spelled nothing but trouble for the magistrates.
"I am Melisandre of Asshai," She replied, her voice as smooth as silk. "We seek entry for my lady and her entourage."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances. While it may be common for the other cities of Slavers Bay to shelter hordes of the priestesses, it was not often they were met by someone of her ilk- foreign, mystical and wrapped in an aura of unshakable purpose. The ruby at her throat gleamed brighter, casting faint red streaks onto her pale skin. The effect was hypnotic.
"What business does a red priestess have in Pentos?" One of them ventured, his tone less assured than his companions.
"The Great Flame has guided us here, on a journey to find family. They go by the name Misagaenys." Melisandre fixed her amber eyes on him, her gaze sharp as a blade.
"We go where the gods will. Shall you deny us entry and risk his displeasure?"
The guards hesitated, but it was the intensity of the groups presence that unnerved them most. They had never seen anyone live to tell the tale of being in the presence of a gryphon, let alone ride one bareback as the woman before them, as docile as a horse. There was something about her that seemed otherworldly, as though the air itself bent to her will.
At last, the guard gave a reluctant nod.
"Very well, priestess. You may enter. But Pentos is a city of trade and peace. We tolerate no disruptions."
Melisandre's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Peace is fleeting," She said, stepping past them into the city, "It burns away like dry leaves in a fire."
"Well, I think that was a good start." Hermione mumbled under her breath.
"There was no doubt that they would dare try to deny us entry, my lady."
As they made their way through city, Hermione couldn't help but notice as the residents of Pentos turned to watch them. Many conversations falling silent. Merchants hawking wares at colourful stalls paused mid-sentence. Children, who moments before had been chasing one another, stood still. Curious eyes following the woman aboard the majestic beast.
The city was alive with such vibrancy. The smell of roasted meats, the clang of hammers on iron, and the chatter of sailors freshly arrived from distant shores. Hermione moved as though untouched by it all. Her gaze swept over the grand villas and winding streets, the domed towers of the magisters rising in the distance.
It was a city of wealth and decadence, but beneath its surface, she sensed the undercurrent of fear and unrest. For Melisandre, such places were fertile ground for the Lord of Light. Directing Hermione towards one of the inn's with directions for the slaves to rent out two rooms, she approached the fountain in the city square.
The waters were shimmering in the golden light of dusk. There she paused, drawing attention of a small crowd. Her hands rose, and she spoke.
"Do you feel it?" She asked, her words cutting through the hum of the city like a knife. "The darkness creeping closer, the long night preparing to descend. The Great Other stirs even now, and his servants multiply."
A few onlookers shuffled uneasily, while others leaned in, captivated. A man with a merchant's sash scoffed, muttering about foreign zealots. Melisandre's eyes flicked toward him with a smile as he paled and scuttered back.
"The night is dark and full of terrors," she continued, her voice rising. "But the flame burns bright. It is here, in Pentos, that the light shall reveal its path."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Some turned away, unnerved, but others lingered, drawn to her words despite themselves. The flickering flames of the surrounding torches painted their faces in shadow and light. Beckoning the children forth, she eyed them.
Melisandre, clad in her deep red robes, knelt gracefully to their level.
"You have heard tales of knights and kings," she began, her voice smooth and warm like embers on a cold night.
"But tonight, I shall tell you of a woman- whose light shined so brightly that it pierced the darkness wherever she walked."
The children leaned in closer, captivated.
"She is called Hermione," Melisandre continued, her amber eyes flicking between the children.
"A name foreign to your tongues, yet powerful in its meaning. She appeared in doomed lands, birthed from salt and smoked and she possessed a gift. A fire within her that no one could extinguish."
"Magic?" a boy asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Indeed," Melisandre nodded. "Not like the shadowbinders of Asshai, nor the sorcery of the warlocks of Qarth. Hers is a magic born from her will, mind and heart. Clever beyond measure, weaving spells that even the most learned sorcerers of the East could not hope to manage."
"She sounds like a hero," murmured a girl with a tangle of dark curls.
Melisandre's tone grew sombered as she continued her tale.
"There came a day when Hermione stood at a crossroads. To protect those in her care, or to let them suffer at the hands of evil. She cast a spell unlike any other. A fire so fierce that it devoured everything in its path. A dragon borne of pure flame, it burned not only the land but the bones of her enemy were left nothing but ash." Melisandre said, her voice almost reverent.
"But why did she do it?" the boy asked,his brow furrowed.
"Because sometimes," Melisandre said, her voice low, "to banish darkness, one must wield light, no matter how painful it may be. She did not allow her despair to consume her. She's journeyed far from her homelands. She's sought to protect the weak and the helpless. Now she searches for family. Seeking someone by the name Misagaenys to spread that fire into a beacon for others. "
One of the older women spoke then, her voice tentative.
"Do you think… We could be like her?"
"The light burns in all of us," She said, her gaze softening and reaching out to touch the girls shoulder. "Even in the darkest of places, even in the smallest of hearts. It is not where you begin that matters, whether slave or free men, she cares not. It is the choices that you make."
The ruby at her throat shimmered, casting faint red light on the small groups faces.
"Hermione Misagaenys was not just born into greatness," Melisandre said, "She chose it and so can you. Now off with you, children."
As Melisandre rose to leave, she heard the children whisper amongst themselves. They would spread the tale of Hermione Misagaenys to one another again and again. They would flock to her in search of wondrous miracles. The children would find many answers to their prayers and just maybe, they would find whomever it was she was told to search for in the ruins of Old Valyria.
Hermione stood at the entrance of a small, weathered inn, its wooden sign swaying gently in the salty breeze. The letters were painted in an elegant script, entirely indecipherable to her, though the smell of roasting meat and the hum of voices within assured her this was indeed a place for weary travellers.
Behind her, the two gryphons shifted restlessly, their leonine haunches and feathered wings quivering with suppressed energy. Their eyes glimmered like molten sunlight, and their sharp beaks clicked softly as they regarded the bustling street of Pentos.
Hermione sighed, brushing a strand of frizzy hair from her face. Everything else, wasn't without its challenges. She could surpass it, all the chaos. Now she had to try and convince the innkeeper to allow the gryphons to stay, despite the language barrier and the potential disruption two magical beasts could cause. The creatures had been loyal companions coming to her aide and abandoning them now wasn't an option.
It had been a long journey, and she felt every mile of it in her aching body, sore feet and parched throat. The streets of Pentos had been an overwhelming and confusing maze of unfamiliar faces and languages. The rich blending of cultures was fascinating yet entirely isolating in her lack of comprehending any of the known languages. As dusk painted the sky in hues of red and gold, all she wanted was a quiet room, a meal, and maybe a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.
As she stepped toward the inn, a group of children peeked out from an alleyway. They wore simple, patched tunics, their faces smudged with dirt, but their eyes shone with curiosity. Hermione offered them a warm smile and crouched slightly, holding out her hand. The gryphons let out soft, rumbling chirps, which seemed to fascinate the children even more.
One of the older children, a boy with unruly black hair, stepped forward hesitantly. He looked so small, with his hair all askew. Her heart ached with the thought of remembering Harry. He gestured toward the gryphons, then pointed at Hermione, his eyes filled with wonder.
"They won't hurt you," Hermione said softly, though she doubted he understood. She conjured a small illusion in the air– a glowing, fluttering bird of light. The children all gasped in delight, their fear momentarily forgotten.
The boy said something quickly in that strange garbling that Hermione recognized as Common, then turned to the others and gestured excitedly. They nodded and whispered amongst themselves before edging closer.
"I need your help," Hermione said, pointing at the gryphons then at the horses. She mimed a house with her hands, then placed her palms together as though pleading. "Please."
One of the slaves spoke up then, speaking to the children. They watched her intently, and after a moment, the boy nodded and gestured for Hermione to follow.
The boy led Hermione to a group of servants who were unloading barrels from a cart near the inn. Their movements were slow and methodical, weighed down by fatigue and the ever-watchful eyes of a burly overseer leaning against the wall. Hermione's stomach tightened at the sight, but she pushed her feelings aside; she needed their help if she was to secure a safe place for her companions.
The boy approached one of the servants– a wiry man with a weathered face– and spoke quickly, pointing to Hermione and the gryphons. The man's eyes widened as he glanced at the creatures, and he muttered under his breath before straightening.
Hermione stepped forward, pointing at the gryphons and then at the inn's stable, miming a roof and making a gentle "shh" sound to indicate the creatures wouldn't cause trouble.
The man studied her for a moment and then something to the boy, who nodded and gestured for Hermione to stay where she was. The boy ran into the inn, and moments later, he returned with a woman who worked the inn.
The woman's eyes widened at the sight of the gryphon, but she quickly regained her composure. She exchanged a few words with the boy and one of the men from Hermione's group before she turned to the young witch.
"You want… Keep them?" She asked in halting Valyrian.
"Yes!" Hermione said eagerly. "Just for the night. I'll pay–" She reached into her green bag and pulled one of the small rubies she had collected from the Valyrian freehold, holding it up. "This, for their trouble."
The woman's eyes lit up, and she nodded, but then gestured toward the gryphons with a concerned look.
"Danger?"
"No. They're tame." Hermione shook her head firmly. She waved her hand, casting a nonverbal calming charm over the gryphons, who immediately settled, their wings folding neatly against their sides.
After a brief exchange with the servants, the barmaid nodded again. "Stable.. There" She pointed to a structure behind the inn.
With the overseer distracted, the slaves quickly worked together to prepare the stable, clearing space and securing the gryphons with thick ropes. Hermione supervised, ensuring the creatures were comfortable and trying to make sure how the servants could handle them safely to avoid their sharp claws.
When the work was done, Hermione turned to the man and the boy who had first helped her. She reached into her bag and pulled out two more gems, handing one to each of them.
"Thank you," She said sincerely, bowing her head slightly.
The man hesitated, then nodded, tucking the gem into his pocket. The boy grinned, holding his prize tightly as he ran off to show the other children.
Taking a steadying breath, Hermione pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside.
six chapters in and it seems like she finally made it to Pentos. LOL
And what is Melisandre doing, spreading stories like that.
Doesn't she know how fast tall tales can spread in a small city?
It's now officially December!
Did you all have a good holiday and do you have anything planned for Christmas?
Yule, or any other wintertime festivity?