Nihilus Filius Et Sacerdos - Ecclesia III

The day had come. The sun was shining bright, the sky was nearly bereft of clouds, and the wind carried the scent of the sea. As though prepared by higher powers for celebration. 

And if the main courtyard at High Tide was anything, it was definitely hosting a celebration.

“Isn’t this a little too much?” whispered Ecclesia, tugging the straps of her overalls. The goggles around her neck weighed like stones, and she found herself digging into her shirt.

“Laena and Corlys don’t seem to think so,” Albaz whispered back, though his red eye kept darting left and right. His fingers twitched every time they passed over his sword.

Indeed, it was as though the entire castle had come to see them off. Rows of armored knights and men-at-arms lined the walls and pathways, holding back a growing crowd of nobles and other brightly-colored visitors. The Velaryon’s flag with the seahorse was on full display, fluttering from every battlement and spire. The ever-increasing crowd of nobles all whispered and pointed at Albaz or her dragon-skull hammer, some subtly and others much less so. And from the crescendoing mutters behind the gate, the news had even spread beyond the castle to Spicetown. The Velaryon maester and Maqarro stood in the shadows of the balconies, writing in leather tomes and exchanging brief statements that Ecclesia couldn’t make out. In the center were the Velaryons themselves, commanding perhaps even more attention than Albaz. Corlys and Rhaenys stood proud with arms interlocked, dressed in their finest clothes, just like when they’d dined with the King. Unlike herself and Albaz, who shied away from the visitors’ attentions, the Velaryons reveled in it, and Ecclesia swore that Corlys’s grin grew wider with every murmur. 

Rhaenyra and Laenor stood by their side, with their children in tow, all dressed with equal pomp and brilliance. Ecclesia glanced at the princess, who smiled and dipped her head in acknowledgment. Rhaenyra had visited them quite often in the past few days, politely inquiring about their stay in Westeros and filling them in about the history of the kingdoms. In return, Ecclesia did her best to tell her about Dogmatika, though Rhaneyra was more curious about the various monsters she encountered. 

Her sons tagged along once, bombarding them with questions she couldn’t understand, even with the increased language lesson regimen Laena had put her and Albaz on. Instead, Ecclesia entertained them by lifting her dragon-skull hammer up and down, causing them to gape and clap. Even Rhaenyra was amazed, dubbing her the ‘strongest woman alive’.

She blushed hard at the memory of the title. She was strong, sure, but compared to Fleur and the other knights, she was still a trainee. Fleur was way stronger.

Albaz wasn’t spared in the slightest. The children asked - or more likely, demanded - that he transform into a dragon, much to his discomfort. He was torn between their begging faces and Ecclesia’s worried one, but Laena interjected and managed to delay the request. 

‘Hm, where is Laena?’ thought Ecclesia, scanning the crowd for the familiar head of ringed silver hair. ‘She said she was going to come with Daemon and her children. Are they late?’

Corlys raised his hand, and a hush fell over the crowd. The maester at his side ignored him, furiously scribbling on his parchment. With wide steps, he and Rhaenys approached the two youths.

“Albaz and Lady Ecclesia,” he said, raising his voice. His words, despite being in the Common Tongue, were slow and precise enough for them to understand him. “Today, you leave us at the behest of our King, Viserys First of his Name, who awaits you at the capital. And while your travels may carry you far from these shores, know that we were honored to host you, and call you friends.”

Ecclesia smiled, bowing at the waist as Albaz followed her lead. “Thank you for your help, Lord Corlys,” she replied. Her knowledge of the Common Tongue wasn’t perfect, but Laena and Maqarro’s relentless lessons drilled enough of it into her head. “You, Rhaenys and Laena are very kind to us, even though we’re strangers.”

“Think nothing of it, my dear,” Rhaenys replied. “It would shame us as lord and lady if we allowed young ones such as yourself to wallow in the depths of Valyria.”

The muttering increased, and the eyes of the court turned as one.

“As I have stated, both of you are always welcome on Driftmark and in our halls. Meals and beds shall always be prepared for you, and any troubles that plague you, we shall alleviate.” Corlys grasped their shoulders and fully addressed the crowd. “Let it be known that from this day on, Albaz and Lady Ecclesia will be forever friends of the Velaryons. Any request from them is a request from me or my family.”

Ecclesia’s eyes widened. That was…a very big deal. Even Albaz, who knew less of court politics than she did, knew that what Corlys said wasn’t some empty remark.

“Are you sure?” her friend asked. “But we are…not…” he gestured with wild hands. “Like you.”

Corlys chuckled and Rhaenys’s smile grew. “You have proven good and true friends to my daughter and her family, master Albaz. In our world, that is a rare gem indeed.”

The silver-haired lord raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A pair of guards emerged from the crowd, carrying a thick, locked chest. 

“I have gathered clothes and coin for both of you, donated thanks to the courtesy of Laena and Daemon. The Queen’s seamstresses are of fine quality, but I thought it would be better to have them prepared.” He bent down and lowered his tone to a whisper, the Volantene flowing from his lips. “I have also placed some of my notes on magical sites to aid in your search for your homeland. It is a pittance, but I shall send more when my traders return from Essos.”

A faint gasp escaped Ecclesia’s lips. That was…not a small amount of gifts, judging from the chest’s size. Especially the notes. She wanted to thank them again, but she managed to compose herself, flashing them another grateful smile.

“We’ll come visit you,” Albaz said as he grasped Corlys’s hand. “We won’t leave without a goodbye.”

“Another priceless gift we shall forever cherish,” the lord replied. He then drew them closer to himself. “I beseech you, be careful. King’s Landing is a dangerous city; words can prove deadlier than daggers there. Laena will protect you, as you are her wards, but I ask that you do the same for her.”

Albaz and Ecclesia nodded. They had accepted the offer a few days back, when Corlys and Laena asked to meet in private after their sparring. While the word confused Albaz, Ecclesia knew what being a ward meant. Many knights in Dogmatika were given wardship of younger squires.

“Besides,” an amused smile crept over his lips, his eyes darting to her hammer. “It’s not as though you truly need the protection; Seven forbid if someone dares challenge you.”

The four giggled at the joke. Rhaenys pressed a kiss to each of their brows. “May the winds carry you with kindness, children. With luck, we might visit you in the capital soon.”

Corlys and Rhaenys stepped back and moved to address the crowd again, but Albaz raised his hand. “Um, where’s Laena?”

As if to answer that very question, a roar shook the courtyard and shadows blanketed the audience. Ecclesia looked up and her eyes widened in shock; high in the sky, two dragons soared, one lithe and red, the other titanic and gray.

As they began to circle high above the courtyard, Ecclesia grasped Albaz’s hand. He hadn’t seen Caraxes since the night of the incident, and Laena’s dragon, Vhagar, was only briefly glimpsed. To call it huge felt lacking; it was the largest creature she had seen barring the Serpent of Golgonda.

In her backpack, she felt a rapid shifting and quieted it with her elbow. Even Mercourier was nervous. 

“Um, Corlys?” she asked, not taking her eye off the circling dragons. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Your concern is understandable, but Daemon and Laena have assured me their dragons are well under control,” replied Corlys calmly. Nevertheless, after a quick glance, Ecclesia saw his hands clench. Not reassuring at all.

She wanted to say that this was another disaster waiting to happen, that maybe they should just take the boat carrying the luggage with Laena’s daughters and Maqarro, or wait for the Velaryon’s dragons to leave. Anything to avoid the sight of Albaz getting bathed in fire again.

Yet it was Albaz that stopped her.

“Okay.”

Her gaze snapped toward him. “Albaz-”

“I know,” he interjected, biting his lip. “But we can’t avoid this forever, Ecclesia. I’m scared too, but…do you remember our first night in the desert, when I didn’t want to sleep out in the open?”

How could she forget? Albaz, separated from the Tri-Brigade who helped rescue him and left alone with her, was a far cry from his former visage. There was no bonfire with Shuraig’s rough but comforting tone in the background, none of Fejjerit’s playful banter as she messed with his hair, or Nerval and Fraktall’s makeshift lessons about the world. They had left, and her dearest friend looked ready to burrow into the sand at the slightest sound.

“You told me I can’t let fear chain me down. That if something looks scary, I have to gather my soul, my courage, and face it.” His lone eye bore into hers. “Laena’s whole family has dragons, and we’ll have to meet them sooner or later. If I can do this, we won’t have to worry about them attacking me out of the blue again. Besides, I trust Laena. If she says her dragon won’t try anything, then I believe her.”

…was that what it came down to? Trust?

Did she trust Laena? Yes. The woman was nothing but kind to them, always looking out for anything they needed while in High Tide. And while she did sometimes get an uneasy feeling whenever she caught wind of Laena and her father talking to each other, Ecclesia knew that a great deal of Laena’s kindness was genuine.

Did she trust Daemon? No. Despite Laena’s repeated assurances, Ecclesia shivered whenever the prince’s eyes lingered during her and Albaz’s sparring sessions. He never approached them directly since their fight in the training yard, always observing at a distance or at his wife’s side. And Caraxes seemed as mean as his rider. Accident or no, Ecclesia would never let her guard down around him.

Did she trust Albaz?

“...okay,” she nodded, steeling herself. “If you say so.”

With every part of her soul.

He smiled, causing her to giggle at the sight of his fang jutting over his lip. Corlys smiled with glistening teeth and took several wide steps back. Ecclesia followed suit, hoisting her hammer over her shoulder and eliciting a fresh wave of astonishment from the crowd. 

‘If they think the hammer is impressive,’ she thought. ‘They’re going to pass out when they see Albaz.’

It was wrong of her to have such thoughts, especially when she knew how touchy Albaz was regarding his powers, but she couldn’t help herself. Getting gawked at like some exotic bird was tiring, and some of those stares tested her patience.

Besides…on some level, she knew her dear friend felt the same.

A hush settled over the crowd as Albaz took a deep breath. The knights gripped their swords as a haze began to surround him.

“My lord-”

“By the Seven-”

“What foul sorcery is-”

“Do not fear!” boomed Corlys. “You are about to witness a marvel unseen even in the days of the Valyrian Empire. If you wish to suckle your mother’s teats, then do so, but spare us the shame of your cowardice.”

Yet no proclamation ceased their whispers. Women clutched pendants and skirts while men cursed under their breath. Their eyes were glued as one to the scene, where the haze grew brighter and redder until flames sparked in the air. 

And then -

Thunder.

A pillar of flame. Swirling higher and higher, engulfing his form. Screams abounded, pleading for their lord to stop the madness, the clanging of the knights’ armor merging into a deafening cacophony.

All were silenced by the roar.

The stones themselves shuddered as the fire dispersed, leaving only sputtering embers on the ground…and him.

There he stood, her dearest Albaz. But not on two legs and in a coat, but on all fours and in rippling scales, blacker than ebony. He closed his gaping maw of sharp teeth, revealing burning red eyes. His white hair, once short, was now a flowing mane flanked by great horns. His wings, smoldering like boiling lava, spread and beat, sending the poor souls who didn’t retreat earlier flying. The ground quaked under the swing of his tail as he gazed at the terrified faces. Even Corlys and his family, for all their bravado, were not exempt; Rhaenys clutched her gem-laden skirt with such force she almost tore it off.

Any sane man would have been within his rights to fear the dragon.

But no fear came to Ecclesia.

Why should she be afraid?

Leaving her hammer behind, she approached the dragon with outstretched arms. No sooner than she took the first step, the dragon’s head swerved in her direction, piercing her with his burning, crimson eyes. Onlookers saw and cried out, but Ecclesia heeded them no mind. 

The dragon snarled and dug his claws into the earth…and suddenly, his eyes widened. His posture slackened and his visage, once burning with primal rage, began to calm. When Ecclesia stood right under his nose, arms still outstretched, a rumbling emanated from his throat. 

As he gently bent down and she held his great snout, Ecclesia pressed her forehead to his scales, sending all the warmth and assurance she had for him, just as she now felt the heat of his body rushing through hers.

‘Fleur taught me about fear. About how we can’t let it define and restrain us. And if you ever feel like those chains drag you back down…’

Her voice was a wisp, unheard by the crowd. Only to the one who mattered.

“I’ll be there to pull you back up.”

A great puff of air was expelled from Albaz’s nostrils, blowing her golden hair backward. She pulled back and met the astounded stares of the assembled masses with pride. Laenor held his frightened children back, though his bearing only betrayed the slightest tension, same with his wife’s. Yet, through the smoke and licks of flame left on the ground, Ecclesia glimpsed a shine in Rhaenyra’s eyes that made her tighten her grip on Albaz. She’d seen it in Corlys and the old man - Otto Hightower - when they were summoned before the king. It spoke of…hunger, for the lack of a better word. Fleur had guided her away from such people during congregations at the church. And if Corlys’s words about the capital held weight, then she had the feeling they would glimpse that shine many more times to come. 

A few nobles turned to Corlys and Rhaenys, unspoken questions on their trembling lips. His only response was the slightest nod of acknowledgment and a flicking of his finger. 

Another roar drew her attention, this time from above. Caraxes was staring down even as he circled, teeth bared and lithe body poised to dive. Thankfully, Laena’s assurances held true, because the red dragon’s head jerked up as his rider pulled the reins, forcing it away from any challenge. Vhagar also angled her head but was pulled away.

‘No need to keep them waiting.’

Summoning her hammer to her hand while gripping her bag with the other, Ecclesia climbed her friend’s thick neck with practiced ease until she reached his silver mane. She then hefted her hammer over her shoulder and smiled at the crowd, whose jaws were moments away from detaching from their skulls.

“Thank you again for everything, Lord Corlys!” she cried out and waved. 

“Safe travels, my lady!” he replied sonorously, raising his hand and beaming. “May the winds guide and shield you!”

She held back the pang of bitterness; thrice now, she and Albaz had to bid goodbye to friends. Not forever - not if Ecclesia had anything to say about it - but the wound burned raw with each time. Staring at the walls of High Tide, Ecclesia took in its splendour; from the white-brick walls gleaming in the sun to the multitude of spires rising from the bedrock like swords. Behind those walls lay the hoard of tapestries and trophies Albaz would gawk at while Laena explained each one’s story. 

…at least it wasn’t a forever goodbye. 

‘No, none of them were’, Ecclesia shook her head. ‘I promised we’d come visit, and I swore to our friends we’d see each other again. I don’t care what this place throws at us, we’ll find  a way home and see them again!’

“Come on Albaz!” she cried and patted his neck. “Let’s show them how you fly!”

The dragon roared with enthusiasm and with a mighty flap, rocketed high into the sky. Wind buffeted Ecclesia’s golden hair and her skin as the courtyard shrank below them with each thunderous wingbeat. Clutching his mane, Ecclesia strapped the hammer to her back and then pulled the goggles over her eyes. Albaz flew past the circling dragons and she glimpsed the startled faces of Laena and Daemon, clad in bulky riding leathers. Caraxes snarled at them, to which Albaz stared him down and snorted a gout of flames from his nostrils…and ignited his wings as well.

Ecclesia didn’t take much pleasure in other’s distress, but she had to admit it was funny watching a full-grown dragon cower like a turtle. Even Daemon turned aside, though not before she caught him glowering from behind his helmet.

The air screamed overhead as the ginormous form of Vhagar passed them by, with Laena waving on her saddle. The only thing Ecclesia could compare it to was the Spriggan airship at full throttle. And this wasn’t a machine, but a living creature!

Snapping out of her stupor, Ecclesia patted Albaz’s neck again and they sailed through the air, trailing Vhagar, with Daemon on their tail. The open sea lay stretched before them, waves rippling under aureate sunlight, its briny scent wafting to her nose even so high amongst the clouds. Left and right Albaz strafed, his wings shearing through clouds. The biting wind cooled as Ecclesia nestled deep in his silver mane, offering her a glorious view of the horizon, where distant shapes danced and rippled. 

A loud chirp came from her bag and the girl nearly jumped from her spot. “Mercourier!”

She pulled the bag to her side and pulled open her bag, allowing the mechanical bird’s head to peek out, staring at her with shimmering blue eyes. 

“I am so sorry!” she whispered. “I know it’s been a rough time for you, I never meant for you to stay hidden for so long.”

Mercourier warbled, his head tilting to the side, but Ecclesia swore there was a hint of indignation in his eyes. It was well deserved; they’d only chat with him when they were sure no one was spying on them, which was a rarity. 

“You can fly with us until we land, then we’ll find a way for you to stick with us, okay?” the bird nodded sharply and Ecclesia pulled him out, letting the little bird stretch his bronze wings. The antenna sticking out from his back crackled as he shook his metallic body before fluttering from her open palm. He looped around Albaz’s head and warbled, to which her friend acknowledged him with a puff.

The young saint of Dogmatika inhaled and allowed herself to sink into the moment. There they were, at the top of the world. Whatever would await them at their destination, Ecclesia couldn’t care; all she focused on was the warm pulse of Albaz’s breath, the fluttering of her hair, and the steady drum of wings. Before meeting him, she never imagined she would see the world in such a way, from the seat of the heavens. 

She’d repay him as always had and always will: by remaining at his side.

Some time passed, a great deal shorter than their trip from the ruins of Valyria; barely an hour, judging by the sun. That was when Ecclesia noticed the shapes of the horizon grew more defined, with the tallest among them widening and rising high above the rest. A brief cloud obscured their vision, and then the wandering duo received their first taste of King’s Landing.

Namely, it was the smell that hit them first.

‘Saints above!’ Ecclesia grimaced, clutching her nose. Albaz was just as affected, shaking his head and snarling in disgust. The stench was nearly overwhelming, a mixture of excrement, rot, and sewer sludge, carried by the western breeze. ‘How can a city stink like this?’

Despite an initial bout of thrashing, Albaz stabilized enough for her to glimpse through moistened eyes at the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. Walls rose from the coastline, worn with the battering of waves. Within them, a haphazard design of living and commerce bloomed. Houses and alleys, poor and extravagant, ebbed along the hills that held up the city. None of the careful architecture or the white marble towers of Dogmatika existed here, and Ecclesia wasn’t sure what to make of it.

The three dragons flew over the walls, drawing alarm from the guards and gasps of onlookers. Ecclesia peered through strands of Albaz’s mane, watching as people, dressed in all manner of rags and garments looked up. Horses and other beasts of burden whinnied and moaned in distress as the great shadows of the dragons darkened the skies. She wrinkled her nose as another wave of stench assaulted it, covering up her nose with the jacket tied around her neck. 

Albaz pitched to the side and a great fortress, perched upon a hill, entered their field of vision. A dome capped it, flanked by curved stone pillars resembling horns. Three massive doors were embedded in the front, slowly opening until wide. Vhagar was the first to enter, diving through the massive entrance with wings folded. Albaz circled above for a few moments until Laena dismounted from her beast and beckoned them to descend. 

Mercourier, the smart little machine, returned to Ecclesia and nestled in her bag. She patted Albaz on the neck, and he slowly flew into the domed fortress. Suppressing a shiver as the doors seemingly swallowed them whole, the girl braced herself as Albaz landed with a heavy thud right in front of Vhagar. 

“Welcome to the Dragonpit, Lady Ecclesia!” Laena called out, smoothing out her windswept hair. “How was the flight?”

“The view was beautiful. I loved watching the ocean.” She pursed her lips, trying to find the correct words while not insulting her. “But…there was this nasty breeze-”

“Oh, the smell,” Laena chuckled ruefully. “Unfortunately, the stench of King’s Landing is infamous. Too many people crowded in one place with a city built as more people came will leave its impression. You are neither the first nor the last to suffer from it.”

Ecclesia slumped forward. “Even Valyria didn’t smell this bad.”

“Then it pleases me to know even our ruined homeland maintains a standard,” she replied smiling, though the mirth remained. “Do not worry, it will grow bearable once we are in the Red Keep.”

Ecclesia nodded and jumped off Albaz’s neck. The instant her feet touched the stone floor, an avalanche rumbled through the darkness. 

The yellow eyes of Vhagar met the girl's blue ones. Ecclesia swallowed as she resisted the urge to flinch from the behemoth’s scrutiny. Her hanging skin thrummed along to her growling, and Ecclesia shuddered as the vibrations ran up her body. The she-dragon leaned closer, carrying the scent of brimstone, and her great wings scraped against the stone pillars. Against the light of the torches, she appeared almost demonic. Resisting the urge to grab her hammer, Ecclesia held her ground, never taking her eyes off the beast. A faint whirr reached her eyes through the bestial din, coming from within her dragonskull hammer. Even Rocky was reacting on mechanical instinct, ready to fire his jets.

Another growl came from behind, one that spoke of challenge. Albaz leaned forward and stomped, the ground cracking under his feet. Vhagar snorted at his posturing, her amusement evident even to Ecclesia. Her jaws could devour his neck whole with little restraint, and the tail could fling him across the city with one blow. 

‘I don’t think I could take her,’ Ecclesia thought, her mind whirring like an engine. ‘Fleur could do it. I’d have to get to her head and aim right for the brain. Good thing Rocky’s charging up, I’ll need a full power swing. If Albaz could use his fire, then maybe we could push her back. No, that would burn everyone in the castle. What if-?’

“Gīda, Vhagar!”

Laena held out her hand, standing firm between the two winged beasts. “They are friends, Vhagar, not challengers. He is a pup, no threat to you. Rest your wings here.”

The she-dragon held her ground, gaze flickering between her rider and Albaz. She bared her teeth once more…

…and slowly turned away with a grumble, retreating into the darkness and curling up on the floor. Her eyes grew lidded, yet they didn’t stray from Albaz.

Ecclesia let out a held-back breath, unclenching her hands from her sides. ‘Thank the saints it didn’t come to a fight.’

Albaz also backed away, letting out a deep sigh. A show of thunder and flame later, and the boy stood in a circle of char.

“Forgive Vhagar, my friends. I’ve tried acclimating her to your presence, but she has always been a territorial one, ever since her mate Balerion passed away. Your display at the beach may have helped in that regard, Albaz. She knows now what you can do and is confident she can trounce you if needed.”

Albaz winced as he stared at Vhagar with trepidation. He looked like he wanted to protest, but changed the subject instead. “What is this place?”

“The Dragonpit,” Laena gestured them to follow, and they moved away from the courtyard. “It was built by the previous king, Jaehaerys the Wise, to stable the Targaryen dragons. More than eighty thousand men can fit in these halls, and at our current roster, we can host almost every dragon in Westeros here. I believe Sunfyre and Dreamfyre are also resting here now. They are Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena’s, respectively.”

The two youths looked around them, taken aback by the cavernous chamber, crowned with towering arches. An open courtyard composed the majority of the space, lined with stone pillars, with light streaming from tiny windows lining the dome and the entranceway itself. 

Eighty thousand people was a…staggering number. How many people counted themselves among the nation of Dogmatika? 

What concerned Ecclesia though, wasn’t the amount, but the sight of barred gateways over wide tunnels, and against the light of torches, black manacles gleamed. 

“The dragons are chained here?”

“Whenever we do not ride them, yes. A dragon wandering around unknown humans does not bode well for the humans” 

Albaz wrinkled his nose, nervousness and distaste marring his expression. Ecclesia grabbed his hand and sent a gentle squeeze. 

‘No one is ever going to chain you, Albaz. I swear it.’

Fortunately, Laena turned to them and her eyes widened. “Oh, forgive me. We’d never dream of chaining you, Albaz.”

“It’s fine,” he replied. “I don’t like it, but I understand.” He gestured with his head to Vhagar. “What if she wants to fly?”

“Again, we wouldn’t risk the lives of the citizenry against a dragon’s wrath. I fly with her every chance I get when I come to King’s Landing, but I must keep her here by order of the king.” She sighed. “It pains me to see her like this. The beaches of Driftmark are far preferable to the pit.”

An open beach with sun, sea and sand against a stone citadel with chains? ‘No contest.’

A group of knights rushed toward them, donning black armor and helmets crested with dragon scales. Tall spears were grasped in their hands, and a shortsword was strapped to each one’s hip. Their leader, a grizzled older man with a brown beard, bowed to Laena and his friends followed suit. 

“Lady Laena, we are honored by your presence.”

Laena nodded, composed and serene. “Likewise. It’s been many a moon since I’ve visited the capital. Vhagar has made herself comfortable, as you can see. My lord husband is circling about, he will also roost Caraxes here soon.”

“We shall see to it that she’s fed and prepare a chamber for Caraxes.” The captain then turned to Albaz and Ecclesia. 

‘Ah, they saw him.’

“And…forgive my impertinence, my lady…” he said with disbelief. “But what sorcery is this? Are the mummers’ words hailing from Driftmark not falsehoods?”

“If you are referring to the ones surrounding my wards’ unique talents,” she swiftly responded, cutting through the forming tension. “Then yes. His Grace is expecting them at the Red Keep with all due haste. I trust that’s not a problem?”

The other knights glanced at the two uneasily, trying to process what they’d seen. The captain held his gaping the longest before nodding in acquiescence. 

“Of course not, my lady. I shall send for a wheelhouse immediately.”

“No, send horses for each of us. I prefer we ride.”

After thumping his breastplate, the captain sent the other men in Vhagar’s direction while he rushed deeper into the fortress.

“Are they the guards?” asked Ecclesia.

“Yes, they are the Dragonkeepers. Sworn to care for and guard the dragons who dwell here. They know the Targaryen dragons better than anyone else alive.”

Ecclesia’s head perked up at the last sentence. “Could we ask them questions? I want to learn more about your dragons.”

Laena hummed. “I don’t see why not. Provided your lessons in the Common Tongue progress smoothly…yes, that could serve well as a nice test.” 

The group headed to the entrance until they stood outside the Dragonpit. The city stretched out before them, in all its smelly glory. Just like she’d seen from above, scores of ramshackle dwellings and manses clumped together between four main roads. The worst ones were to their right, cluttered and sporting holed roofs; not only that, but Ecclesia could feel an aura of gloom over the area, clinging to it like a foul cloud. The houses grew prettier as she turned left, appearing nicer and cleaner until she reached the looming red castle against the cliffside.

“Is that-”

“The Red Keep, where the king awaits us.”

“Looks…imposing,” said Albaz. 

“As it should.” Laena then faced them and her tone grew serious. “My father has no doubt warned you, but I implore you to stick close to me and keep your eyes and ears open. Many dangers lie in wait within those halls, and I have no desire to see you harmed, my dear friends.”

The more the Velaryons warned them about it, the more hesitant Ecclesia grew at the prospect of actually entering the castle. What exactly were they supposed to expect?

“If anyone tries something…” Ecclesia trailed off warningly. 

“Then they deserve whatever fate befalls them,” Laena replied, and her lips quirked upward. 

Good. 

A contingent of mounted guards soon arrived with three spare horses in tow. Once they mounted, the group raced down the winding cobblestone path. Behind them, Caraxes swooped into the Dragonpit with a shrill roar, briefly startling the horses. Gripping tightly onto the reins, Ecclesia watched as houses blurred past them, with children and women parting the streets to let them pass. Clamors and more whispers broke out behind them, with even merchants and vendors stopping mid-cry to gawk. As they rode, she spotted tired eyes and rail-thin forms scurrying in alleyways, watching them with hollow eyes. A pang ran through her heart, but she forced it aside. Even in her city, the poor and miserable would call the alleys and dark streets home, if no shelter or roof would take them. Orphans had it better; the church always ensured its doors were open for them, even if only to seek out new recruits. 

But in a city of size…how many were there?

They made a sharp turn in a great square, where the aroma of fire sniped through the city’s stench before rushing down the main road, all the way to the Red Keep.

Unfortunately, the torture upon their noses didn’t end as they approached the castle; instead of putrid sewage, it was replaced with cloying perfumes. While the houses did indeed look a great deal better than the ones near the Dragonpit, with gated yards and elegant roofs. Somehow, they didn’t appeal to Ecclesia as much as she thought they would. Shying away, she kept her focus on the road ahead, and at the looming portcullis gates of the Red Keep.

They rode through the gates and into a beaten yard, where a robust, well-dressed man with a thin beard strode up and bowed to them. “Lady Laena, welcome to King’s Landing. I’m Ser Robar Darklyn, master-at-arms.”

“Well met, Ser Robar,” replied Laena, dismounting her horse, with Albaz and Ecclesia following suit. “We are here to see the king.”

“His Grace is holding court right now, my lady. If you wish to wait-”

“No, this is actually preferable. There is a matter he wishes to address publicly, and I’ve been sent to help him with it.”

Ser Robar glanced at the two foreigners and his eyes widened, clutching the sword at his side. Ecclesia winced as Albaz held back a grimace. We’re gonna see this a lot, I’m afraid.

“These are Master Albaz and Lady Ecclesia, my wards and personal guests of the king. He wishes to see them as well, posthaste.”

The knight’s mouth opened and closed before swallowing and curtly nodding, though his eyes never strayed from them. Whether it was Ecclesia’s giant hammer or Alabaz’s ears, Ecclesia didn’t know. At this point, she didn’t even think she cared anymore. “Very well. Shall I prepare rooms for you?”

“Yes, our luggage will arrive by ship in a couple of days, along with my daughters. My husband will also appear later today.”

“Um…Laena?” 

Laena turned around and Ecclesia pushed down her blush. “Can I…can me and Albaz share a room?”

Albaz blinked, though he wasn’t really surprised. That was reserved for Laena, who blinked and pursed her lips.

“It is generally improper for an unmarried lady to share a room with a man…but you did so on Driftmark, and I suspect you won’t heed any warnings here either.” She then addressed Ser Robar with a tone that brokered no discussion. “See to it they are given a shared room neighboring my own, or at least in our wing.”

“Ah- but, Lady Laena-” he stammered, switching his gaze between them. Laena raised an eyebrow and he bowed again. “As you wish. I must warn you though, the Queen will protest.”

“When she does, I will address her myself. Now, if you will?”

Ser Robar bobbed his head and began barking orders at nearby servants. With tentative breaths, Albaz and Ecclesia followed Laena into the Red Keep. Through vast halls and up spiraling staircases they traversed, filled with rushing servants and chatting nobles. There was no uniform white and gold; it was a kaleidoscope of silks, caps, dresses, and doublets, dyed under the red bricks of the keep. Some brayed as others laughed, patting each other on the back and throwing their own comments. Others sipped goblets and spoke in hushed tones, gazes darting to and fro while exchanging nods and handshakes. Ladies stood by their husbands’ sides and agreed demurely while others gathered together, showing off dresses and giggling at jokes Ecclesia couldn’t interpret. Tapestries lined the walls, flanked with banners depicting a red three-headed dragon on a black field.

Ecclesia gathered her breath and kept following Laena. It was never this lively back in the Grand Cathedral. Only out in the yard or within the privacy of closed doors did conversation ensue. The hallways were always muted or filled with the sound of prayer. And High Tide… the closest thing she could compare it to was during the spar with Daemon, but not on this scale.

And, like before, whenever someone spotted them, they stopped whatever they were doing and gape.

“Are you okay?” she whispered to her friend, who couldn’t stop scanning every nook and cranny.

“M’fine,” he muttered, though his hand kept clenching. “Just…that’s a lot of people.”

Ecclesia grasped his hand again and smiled. “Well, at least Laena’s getting weird looks too.”

They soon arrived at a set of bronze doors, tall and gargantuan like the rest of the castle. ‘What is it with these people and huge castles?’ she thought incredulously. ‘The Cathedral was big because it was the Grand Cathedral, it’s supposed to be big! It feels like every castle here is trying to hold dragons!’

Laena whispered something to the guards standing by. One of them pushed the door open and rushed inside.

“You are about to be introduced before the court,” she whispered, bringing them closer and holding their shoulders. “The king and his family already know what to expect, but the nobles will only see strange foreigners; especially you, Lady Ecclesia.”

“What should we do?”

“Bow to the king, accept his welcome and be polite.”

The other guard couldn’t take his hand off his sword and Ecclesia resisted the urge to frown. This really was going to happen a lot, wasn’t it?

Laena’s stare softened and she squeezed her shoulder. “I do not ask you this lightly. We are kindred free spirits, and to bow down before the expectations of those who could never know the freedom that comes with riding a dragon is insulting. I only ask that you maintain a level of courtesy. It will help your stay here.”

“Do I have to do that too?” asked Albaz. 

Laena mulled over his words before smiling. “You are a dragon, dear Albaz. That is entirely up to you. Though I daresay a touch of decorum will help your lady friend and yourself.”

Ecclesia looked down and bit her lip. The whole talk of decorum and appearance was…uncomfortable to say the least. After spending so long in exile and with the Spriggans, courtesy has been the furthest thing on her mind. It was a memory of older times, back when she was still a Saint and was expected to lead the warriors of the church. There were rules of deference, but any loyalty she’d had to authority was thoroughly squashed when she was punished for saving Albaz’s life. And the idea she’d have to play this game that nobles enjoyed…

But Laena had asked them, and she’d done so much for them…

“...like we said, we won’t start anything,” the former Saint replied with steel in her voice.

The Velaryon lady held her gaze for a few moments and sighed. “I suppose that is as good a promise as any.” She removed her hold and turned around. The guard, whose hand never left his sword, blanched at the sight and inclined his head. At that moment, his fellow guardsman entered through the crack and whispered to Laena. At her assent, the doors opened and allowed the group to enter.

Yet again, Ecclesia was floored by the sheer size of the room. It was more akin to a mini-castle within the castle, sporting a vaulted ceiling adorned with arches and thick stone pillars, reaching a height of two or three stories. Sunlight filled the hall through high, narrow windows, under which more dragon banners flew. Dozens of courtiers were gathered along the marble floor, eyes towards the far end of the room.

A herald slammed a tall staff adorned with the same banner on the floor.

“Presenting the Lady Laena Velaryon, and her honored wards, Albaz and Lady Ecclesia!”

The crowd rotated as one toward them and Laena advanced, head held high and poise impeccable. Trailing behind her, Ecclesia resisted the urge to flinch and kept any hint of discomfort from her face—more than once she heard a gasp as nobles parted the way for them. No weakness, no weakness.

After what seemed like an eternity, they stopped at the foot of the throne, and it proved the greatest test of restraint Ecclesia endured from that day. The Iron Throne was indeed as its name suggested, a throne, but only in its most abstract form. A twisted amalgamation of metal, composed of hundreds of swords melted together, jutting outward in asymmetrical chaos. The seat itself bent over and behind the king, who sat ramrod straight with arms parallel against what could generously be called armrests. The contrast between his excited face and jovial demeanor, and the utterly monstrous appearance of the throne was so stark it took several moments to register with Ecclesia. This throne was more fitting for evil sorcerers from her storybooks than an actual seat of power!

At the foot of the throne, on both sides, the rest of the royal family either stood or sat in far more comfortable chairs, surrounded and flanked by the Kingsguard. The queen, resplendent in an emerald gown and a golden tiara, bore an inscrutable expression, even as her hands clenched silk. Her sons stood at her side, dressed in ornate tricolor doublets that blended with their silver hair, watching them with far less restraint than their mother. Her sister stood behind them, fidgeting with the rings on her finger and silent like when they first saw her at the banquet. 

At the right of the throne sat a burly man with a balding head and a well-trimmed beard. A golden chain of interlocking hands hung around his neck, and while he appeared taken by surprise, it lingered only for a second before he composed himself and a glint of understanding entered his visage. Was that the…Hand? The king’s advisor? Corlys had mentioned the role briefly during their lessons.

More men stood before them: a greybeard maester with multicolored chains and heavyset robes appeared on the verge of a heart attack. An older one clutched a cane capped with a sphere of frozen honey and shared visible disbelief with his blond colleague, whose hair cascaded past his shoulders and roaring lions adorned his vest. A rigid man with sharp eyes and a pointed chin drew in a sharp breath and searched for the Kingsguard Commander, who remained nonplussed at the queen’s side. He fingered his morning star as his eyes trailed upwards, stopping at the dragon-skull hammer before flinching back.

Did Rocky open his eyes? 

The final man, who stood at the farthest end, sent a shiver down her spine. Cropped black hair framing a pinched face, he leaned on a cane of his own as visible interest overcame him, mixed with the same hunger she’d seen in the courtiers of Driftmark. Another shiver ran up Ecclesia’s spine; this man…he felt like Ashiyan, clinging to shadows with no one knowing his intentions or capabilities. One more untrustworthy face to the growing list. At least he didn’t feel like he could stab her and vanish in a crowd.

The only one missing was Otto Hightower. Ecclesia scanned the edges of the crowd for him, and then spotted him in the first line of nobles, standing with arms clasped behind his back. Why wasn’t he with his daughter?

Laena curtsied deeply before the king, and the whispers vanished in an instant.

“Your Grace, I am honored by your invitation. In the name of my house, I thank you for your hospitality.”

“And I welcome you once more to King’s Landing, dear Laena,” Viserys replied, beaming. “It warms my heart to see my brother’s wife in my home. It feels like ages, yet we last saw each other barely a sennight ago!” He waved a hand. “How time flies and crawls alike!”

A number of them voiced their amusement, with chortles and laughter rising from behind. Ecclesia didn’t get the joke.

“I heard the roar of Caraxes and Vhagar not long ago. Is Daemon with you?”

“He will join us no later than supper, Your Grace. There is an errand he desires to attend to in the city before enjoying your company.”

“Splendid! I invite you to share my table at supper tonight! May my brother’s return bring joy to the city!”

A chorus of roars and cheers erupted, raising fists and goblets. No doubt from the same men and women, because most of the hall remained silent.

The king’s eyes moved to them and he leaned forward, his tone dripping with anticipation. 

“And I am glad to see your new and honored guests at your side. Master Albaz, Lady Ecclesia, I welcome you as well to our fair capital.”

Ecclesia gave a short bow, with Albaz copying her. Another wave of murmuring broke out, and from the corner of her eye, she saw a lady covering her mouth and wrinkling her nose.

“These two young sorcerers were rescued by the Sea Snake and his family from the depths of Valyria itself! I’ve invited them to court so they may share their knowledge of our former homeland, which no one has entered and left alive since the Doom!”

Amidst gasps and confusion, the maester wheezed and addressed his king. “Y-Your Grace, nothing survives in Old Valyria! Princess Aerea ventured there and returned as a burnt husk!”

“Aye, and a grave day it was for my family, Grand Maester, but I assure you that these two are no liars, not after what I’ve seen them do. The hammer on the lady’s back is proof enough, no?” He smiled at the two, kindness shining through his weary face. “How was your trip?”

“Very calm…Your Grace,” said Albaz. “Laena is a good…guide.”

“The winds are kind indeed. How is your impression of King’s Landing?”

Now, Ecclesia had to be careful with her reply; it wouldn’t help them if she was blunt. Kitt would say something like: “It smells worse than a heap of wyvern dung mixed with motor grease! What the hell is wrong with the toilets here!?”

Funny, but not really polite.

“It’s a very…interesting city, Your Grace,” she replied with halting words. “There are many big castles here. We haven’t seen so many castles in one city before.”

Viserys chuckled. “Yes, we are quite proud of our castles. The Red Keep and the Dragonpit hold much history. High Tide is a mighty and beautiful fortress, but I dare say even it pales in comparison to here.”

Laena smiled demurely at the remark, showing neither affront nor praise. Clapping his hands, Viserys slowly rose from the throne. “Rooms will be prepared for you in Maegor’s Holdfast. I have a great many questions to ask you and it would serve me well to have you nearby.”

Amidst the looks of jealousy from the crowd, the Hand then coughed loudly. “Erm, Your Grace…I do not wish to curb your enthusiasm, but I have heard the rumors from Driftmark and find myself…doubting. Surely there cannot be any truth to these claims?”

“I concur with my lord brother,” said the lanky man, his voice like a serpent’s. “Many charlatans claim sorcery to gain a king’s favor. They are unusual-looking, yes, but many strange people dwell in Essos, and the girl is clearly a Westerlander. And that hammer cannot be real. No man can swing such a weapon with keeling over, much less carry it on their back.”

Ecclesia clenched her fist as suspicion filled the hall, with disdain and smugness creeping over a few faces. What was wrong with these people? They barely arrived and they were called liars straight away!

Thankfully, Viserys shared similar sentiments, if his frown indicated anything. 

“Rest assured, my lords Strong, that these two are no charlatans and the hammer the lady wields is no fake. I have seen magic from them that would shame even the famed Warlocks of Qarth. I will hear no more of insults to my guests.” 

The lords bowed, chastised, and the king shooed them away. “It is a time of celebration, not accusation. Ser Marbrand, show my guests to my solar. Until their rooms are prepared, they may stay there.”

The jealousy in the hall seemed to increase tenfold as the white-cloaked knight bowed and motioned for Laena to follow him. Albaz and Ecclesia were on her heels, eagerly heading toward the side doors behind the throne, when Ecclesia turned around and felt the collective presence of the hall focusing on her. Greed, contempt and derision all aimed at her, and the rest were stone-faced like a cliff. 

Ecclesia wasn’t concerned much with pride; Fleur had beat that vice out of her during her first training days. If people wanted to doubt her, let them. They were total strangers, who cared what they thought?

…but the gawking, the staring and the disbelief had taken their toll. She didn’t want to fend off accusations every moment they were in the city. She didn’t know why the king didn’t say a word regarding Albaz and his dragon form, but she was sure that he would face just as much scrutiny. 

That was something she couldn’t allow. 

“Lady Ecclesia,” Laena’s voice pierced her thoughts, filled with caution and warning. But she didn’t care.

Reaching behind her, Ecclesia grabbed her hammer and raised it high. At that moment, Rocky lit up his engine and flame erupted from the dragon skull’s back. She swung the hammer round and round, the sheer force of the swing blowing out the nearby torches. Then grabbing the hammer mid-swing, she swung the weapon down, stopping right before the snout smashed the marble. A shockwave erupted right below the hammer, sending more winds across the hall and a spiderweb crack formed along the floor.

The nobles stepped back in shock, grabbing pendants and weapons. The Kingsgaurd looked ready to rush them, and it was only Viserys’s orders to cease that stayed their hand. Releasing a trembling breath, Ecclesia raised her head and sent her firmest gaze to everyone watching, uttering three words that resonated in the hall.

“Not. A. Liar.”

She didn’t care what any of these people thought about them. She was exiled and deemed a heretic. But if anyone thought to mess with her and Albaz…

…that crack would only be the opening round.