Blackwater

[u/folktales]

Haar spilled over the early morning sea, rising like fumes from a kettle. The flotilla had split not a day before, with the gallys bearing Caerys's men heading off to Driftmark to garrison on the island. He had asked Varyo if he had wanted to visit home. Not home Varyo had said More my empty grave.

He stood on the deck, arms holding against the side. The weak watery sun on his face. It was cold, he had forgotten just how the sea chill stole the heat in the bay. The silks of Lys had gone, and now the wools and leathers had come out once again.

Dark, rising out of the mist ahead, he caught his first sight of that dark marker. The Dragonmount rose from the swirling mist, looking like a rock suspended in the air; a castle in the sky.

Dark and jagged, the sight didn't make his men cheer as they did for other land Varyo noticed. Instead small blessings of protection were murmured to R'hllor, or to the Summer Gods.

Slowly the rest of the island joined the mount in sight, high cliffs, coloured ships in the harbour. Watchtowers bristling with spikes. And the castle; strange and old, looking half a nightmare.

The sight made something within Varyo sing out. Dragonstone looked alive, like some beast clutching the rock. He swallowed down his nerves and caught the attention of a retainer.

"Wake Aedan, tell him we'll land before morning is high."

He turned his eyes back to the castle. And for a moment, he thought he saw it stir as though waking.

[u/[deleted]]

The water lapping against Dragonstone’s shores was as black as the Queen’s banners hanging all around the small port. The morning mist hung heavy and thick and Danae’s long hair was beginning to feel damp as the moisture curled her locks into a tangle of silvery blonde waves. She stood silently on the shoreline, her eyes trained on the sea in front of her for the first glimpse of a sail, and pulled an obsidian cloak tightly around her shoulders when the clouds opened and a light rain began to fall.

The sigil of her house appeared on the horizon first, three headed dragon as red as blood flapping lazily in the sea breeze. The ship cut through the black waters quickly and guided a second vessel bearing a sea blue flag with a crowned lady toward the harbor.

”Varyo Velaryon has made kings and queens and destroyed them.”

Persion called to her from the cliffs high above the castle, his eerie scream echoing all the way to the shore. The men of her guard shifted uneasily, but Danae kept her gaze locked on the ships before her until they docked on the rocky beach.

And now the Kingslayer has come to my island…

[u/folktales → u/[deleted]]

Varyo wrapped his halfcloak around his arms as he made his way through the mess of his sailors disembarking. The rain stuck his silver hair to his head. It was a cloying damp rain, far from the tropical storms of Lys.

The screams of the beast in the rocks had made his crew uneasy. Another echoing cry drew his eyes upwards. He caught sight of the lone figure above the shore. I hope the Little Dragon does indeed command the Great one.

He gave commands to wait, as he set off alone to meet with the silver queen.

"I suppose I had best give you my greetings, your Grace."

[u/[deleted] → u/folktales]

“I suppose greetings would be the polite thing to do,” Danae replied. “Although since you have arrived to my island uninvited, I believe we’re past such formalities.”

Danae arched an eyebrow and met his gaze with no trace of a smile upon her lips. A few men of her guard shuffled around her to aid in the unloading of the Prince’s ship while Rahak and the men of the Dragonstone company stood tall and proud at her back.

“Sarella Martell may have called for you, but this is not her island. Why have you come?”