bythewaves | IC inbox (Drift Fleet)

[The might is incredible; more than intoxicating - terrifying. Though the young, head-strong Queen tries to keep standing, she is unable and she falls to her knees, fighting for breath. Such power is not within her - nor has it ever been in any Targaryen - but it is around her. She believes it is in her children and they will bring it to Westeros.

That power will aid her in ruling and ruling well.]

You can...never die?

[ He laughs, low and bitter ]

I wish it were that easy. Oh, we can be slain, by blade or poison or grief. But our spirits remain, though our bodies are slain, and so the world wears at us still, until the Valar allow us to return to Life again.

Your Valar sound cruel. [She doesn't want to be that sort of might.] I will rule better than them. Even my children will behave better and dispatch our enemies quickly. They do not torture their food endlessly.

[ The edges of that dark fury fade into something older, something sadder ]

They aren't, not really. They're not like us, this is true. But they love us, as best they can. Even Namo wept, as he foretold our Doom.

Little pity we were promised, but little is not none.

Tears do not save anyone. [A lesson she knows from losing Drogo and her son.] You worship them still? I would rise up against them rather than blindly accept that punishment! If I die in the process or I am imprisoned by them, at least I will have no regrets.

Edited 2017-07-04 04:54 (UTC)

Worship? [ He looks amused ]

Hardly. They are the Powers of the world, but they are not Gods, and only Morgoth ever desired to be worshiped as one. They are ... were, I suppose... our friends and our teachers, our jailors, for some of us, now. But as they would tell you, they are but servants to the One, and He alone is worthy of such devotion.

Is he? [Anyone who lets his creations put such restraints on other creations isn't big on being fair and just in her eyes.] I haven't worshipped the gods of Westeros since I was a child. They did very little for myself and my brother. To rely wholly on them is foolish; we must carve our own paths and hope to find our way through experience.

The One Is. [ Maglor shrugs ]

He is their Creator and ours, the Great Singer who Sang all things into being, the Beginner who Never Began, and then allowed them the freedom of doing their best with His creation. His hand is everywhere apparent, but it is also subtle. Only in Numenor did He ever intervene directly, and then only at the behest of the Valar. For the most part, we are His children, the Valar and the Eruhini, and the price of Free Will is to have to learn on our own.

To learn, to make mistakes, to be punished for it without an end in sight. Does that set well with you? Have you become complacent?

Did I say there was no end? [ Maglor raises an eyebrow at her ]

Dagor Dagorath. The Final Battle. When it comes we do not know, but come it will and must, for Arda is marred beyond healing and only after the End can it be made anew. But until then we strive and wait in hope, but what form that hope will take only Men know, who go beyond the world.

A battle to cleanse? [She can understand that. Westeros will suffer such a cleansing once she, her fleet and her Dragons dock.] Is it strange to look forward to bloodshed? What happens to those who do not survive it?

Yes, and no.

[ He hums thoughtfully, eyes going distant ]

Not even the Valar truly know the End of the Song, although Namo comes closest, maybe. So we don't really know what it will be like. But it is said that at the last, Morgoth will succeed in breaking the doors of Night, and return to Arda to complete the devastation he began, and that battle we call the Dagor Dagorath. What lies beyond that we do not know, but some hold that Turin will return from beyond the world, with the great heroes of Men, to avenge themselves for the years of grief and pain, and Eru will open the leaguer of the Timeless Halls and set aright all that has been Marred. But what lies beyond the Valar forgot when they bound themselves to Arda, and so we do not know. Men might, but they do not return, so none have been able to tell us.

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