IC inbox (Drift Fleet)

[bythewaves]

Your pardon, but I am unavailable. If you will, leave a message and I will answer as soon as I may.

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[valyrianstorm]

I appreciate your concern. My sons are wild; I accept that, but they have not forgotten me and I will ride Drogon into battle.

[bythewaves]

I pray it will not be your last. We have lost too many to Dragonspell to ever trust them.

[ Or those with them Curufin mutters darkly in his ear. ]

[valyrianstorm]

Those amongst the Fleet or your people? What sort of spells can your Dragons cast? Mine can only breathe fire and take flight.

[bythewaves]

That you know of. I told you they were cunning. But my kin have fought the Enemy and all His weapons - including them - for a long, long time. And we do not forget the Battle of Sudden Flame, when Glaurung the Golden issued forth in his strength and burned out fields, entrapping the unwary in his eyes. My people died there, unable to run, held by his gaze. I do not forget, nor do I forgive.

[valyrianstorm]

I am sorry for your loss. This Enemy you speak of: was he related to Dragons? My family is said to have the blood of Dragons in our veins; thus why we can ride them and understand them. If your Glaurung the Golden was before me, I might be able to lead him away from your people.

[bythewaves]

Morgoth? No. He is something far greater than that. I suppose you humans might consider him something like a god. But He is no god, though He likely enjoyed thinking of himself that way. He is one of the Powers of the World, those who forged it. Or in His case, tried to break it.

And I sincerely doubt any could control Glaurung save his maker.

[valyrianstorm]

As a power, there must have been someone who worshipped him. Humans cannot help but be drawn to might - even if it is cruel.

Viserion, one of my sons, is a Dragon of cream and gold. I do not know who originally created Dragons, but the Targaryens have a way with them. My Drogon might be of a size to conquer your Glaurung. He is black and red and said to be the reincarnation of Balerion the Black Dread. Balerion's teeth were as long as swords and he could hold entire towns in shadow with his wings.

[bythewaves]

There were. They died.

[ A soundless snarl and then abruptly the video flips on, Maglor's eyes blazing in memory. ]

Child, you have no idea what they are, what they can be, what they were in the beginning.

[ And then he Sings it, drags her into the memory.

Glaurung issuing from the Gates, burning his fields, scattering his people. A monster far larger than anything they had ever seen, scales leaving poison on the ground as he moved, venom dripping from fangs, the fire to melt the earth itself. The golden eyes and the WILL behind it, a mind that was not a beast at all but something older, something not right, a pressure that grabbed and drowned and burnt so that you couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

Reaching for him even across all the distance.

My people are dying! but unable to do anything, choking on air too hot to breathe as Glaurung's get follow their dread father out, Ancalagon's shadow rising blacker than black, a mountain given flight, scorching the very mountain ranges to ash (and only a baby, whispers memory, he will get larger still).

A will and a mind that is beast and more than beast, something without beginning, something from before time.

A fallen maia!

A mind too strong for one elf, even a son of Feanor.

GET UP A familiar voice, command.

That's an order Makalaure!

A will honed to iron and steel facing minds like this in torment, and yet which refused to break. Their father's technique, swaying wills with a stronger one.

Get up and FIGHT

A gasp of air, his brother's touch fading, Glaurung reaching for him again but DON'T LOOK IN HIS EYES!

Scrambling for the Songs to break his people free, dominating their minds and begging for forgiveness as he replaces Glaurung in their thoughts but too late, too few. They cannot pierce his hide, they cannot stand before his fire, and Maglor cannot save them, the dragonspell turning comrade onto each other, so that the dragon barely has to work at all.

Lothlann burns! We cannot hold the Gap!

[ The Song breaks into a keen and Maglor slams the connection shut, the memories too raw, too painful ]

[Video]

[valyrianstorm]

[She does not shy from the shift nor does she stop looking into his eyes. Daenerys has seen horrors in the East - mostly accomplished by men - and she has convinced herself to never, ever look away. She must face the truth, confront it, learn from it and control her fear even if it flies at her in a wild frenzy.

The memories - not her own - fill her mind and she sways, grabbing onto a table to steady herself. The color in her cheeks fades, but he will sense no fear in her. At least not a fear she should feel upon seeing a monster like Glaurung.

No, she has the heart of a conqueror and even as she peers into that beast's eyes, her resolve hardens. You could be mine. He is a fine Dragon; undisciplined - as one would expect of any Dragon, truly - but under the control of a rider who cared for him, perhaps he could be better.

Not safer.

More intelligent. He would understand his territory; his worth and his rider would keep him satisfied. Her nails dig into her palms and she stands rigid, her lips parted in horror and wonder.

So much death. Is this what awaits her on Westeros? Dragons never stop growing. If her sons live for a century or two more, they will be monsters too. Not the size of the mighty Glaurung, but...

All they need is time.]

Keso glaesot iderēptot daor.

[A tear rolls down her cheek as the connection is abruptly ended. She grieves for those fallen and for the Dragon that was made to do the bidding of a cruel Master; one who did not guide him, but let him run wild.]

There were three Dragons once... They were wild, untamable. They too met sorry ends.

Was this Glaurung slain?

[Video]

[bythewaves]

Only three?

[ the smile is bitter ]

Yes. Turin slew him, poor Turin! He was avenged but even as he was his Curse caught him and the dragonspell was broken and he knew that he had failed to escape his Doom. Poor Turin! I would not wish his life on any.

But it takes a Man to be a Dragonslayer. Morgoth never expected that! But so it often proved, that His design bore terrible fruit only to be compounded by the ingenuity and skill of Men.

[Video]

[valyrianstorm]

They were all that was left after men claimed their territories. Before there had been far more. I like to think they once filled the sky.

[She purses her lips, features tense.]

Men should not be proud of driving a species into extinction. I am sorry you lost so many; I would have done all I could to intervene.

[Video]

[bythewaves]

[ He barks a laugh ]

Men? [ The smile is feral ] It took Men to be Dragonslayers, but think you they beat the armies of Morgoth by themselves? All of us fought, lady! Elves and Dwarves and Men. Even Hobbits, in one noticable exception to the rule. They were amongst the worst of our Enemy's weapons, and not a one of us will ever regret pursuing them to death. The dwarves gave us the armor we needed to brave their fire, and paid bitterly for their craft. Even today the Brown Lands were so poisoned by their vapors that little lives there beyond scavengers. We would have killed you lady, if THEY had not done so first, and you are exactly the sort of foolish noble heart they would have enjoyed.

[Video]

[valyrianstorm]

Morgoth would not have held such sway if Targaryens entered the battle! You would not have needed to band together to slay Dragons at the very least. Under our guidance, you would have been able to ride them to war.

[She is outwardly undeterred, but if he looks close enough, she is angry and disconcerted.]

[Video]

[bythewaves]

[ He can see it, and doesn't care - the memories roused are scorching, and turning his fury on another is easier. He might feel sorry later, but she stirred the fires from their slumber and he is still his father's son. His eyes are silver bright and his tongue a blade that he wields without caring of the consequences ]

Fool child! Morgoth is a Vala - the mightiest of them all. Only Manwe himself and Tulkas the Strong came even close to besting him, and they are Vala themselves, the builders of the world. You could have no hope of anything except becoming another one of his creatures, twisted beyond all recognition, a thrall to his purpose or food for his experiments. Four hundred and fifty five years we held the siege, and the only harm we did Him was slow Him down. Even our greatest warrior, my poor brave uncle, could do no more than lame him, and only Luthien did any better, and she was half Maia and so
distantly akin to Morgoth in that way.

[Video]

[valyrianstorm]

[Whereas she is the last of a family that is said to give birth to members that are either mad or geniuses. Her father, Aerys, was as mad as they come, committing atrocities against Daenerys's mother that led to many miscarriages. It really is a wonder she came into the world at all with Aerys's assassination, her mother's failing condition and the monstrous storm.]

I do not know these races, but the blood of Dragons runs in my veins. I refuse to be twisted by anyone or anything. I am a Queen and a Conqueror. If a Vala chose to stand against me, I would not bow. My children would stand with me even if we are destined to die.

[She watches him, hesitating. Then:]

You must have long lifespans. I would be exceptionally withered if I even lived to see my one hundredth year.

[Video]

[bythewaves]

[ He laughs again, sharp and feral, and the next song from his lips is the Ainulindale, Daenarys swept up into the creation of his world, and the massive forces that birthed it, the ferocious powers of the world at their most raw and elemental, before they took the shapes and forms that the Eldar would come to know them by.

(memory flutters at the edges of the song, of the one time the Valar did act, when Maglor was living, of the earth tearing apart and the seas rising) ]

Race? They are the Powers of the World, Child. And I am Eldar, one of the Firstborn, who are tied to the life of the world, to die as it dies and live as it lives.

[Video]

[valyrianstorm]

[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?

[Video]

[bythewaves]

[ 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.

[Video]

[valyrianstorm]

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.

[Video]

[bythewaves]

[ 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.

[Video]

[valyrianstorm]

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.

[Video]

[bythewaves]

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.

[Video]

[valyrianstorm]

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.

[Video]

[bythewaves]

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.

[Video]

[valyrianstorm]

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?