Dragon Fire.

What colour dragon would you rather see?

Red.	0.0%	[ 0 ]
Black.	0.0%	[ 0 ]
Silver.	0.0%	[ 0 ]
Gold.	20.0%	[ 1 ]
Green.	0.0%	[ 0 ]
Blue.	0.0%	[ 0 ]
White.	20.0%	[ 1 ]
Rainbow (just because).	40.0%	[ 2 ]
Other.	0.0%	[ 0 ]
What a useless poll.	20.0%	[ 1 ]
Total Votes:			[ 5 ]

[HIGH on cough sweets]

This is a private roleplay for HIGH on cough sweets and Tamotsu.
Please avoid posting.

[Tamotsu]

灬 ❈ αηαєℓℓуѕ αηтαrуση ❈ 灬

Angry seas dominated the horizon all around her, making her feel as vulnerable as they did powerful under the thundering dark sky above. All around her, multiple sharp peaks of giant mountains otherwise almost completely submerged under water, pieced the ocean's surface like daggers. It is upon one of such peaks of slippery black rock that Anaellys balanced herself against heavy winds, her silver white hair flaying wildly with the spirits of the storm. Against the howls of the wind, only the sound of her heavy breath and heartbeat held her company.

But Anaellys knew it, she was not alone. The girl suddenly turned around on her heals, never losing her balance. As soon as she was turned, she faced a towering mountain in the near distance that seemed to have risen from nowhere and everywhere. As black as a raven's feather, the summit of this mountain climbed to staggering heights before disappearing above the clouds. It's summit was surrounded by a heavy fog and the epic waves that crashed along its rugged shores shattered without hope with each angry attack. Anaellys could do nothing but observe it in awe.

A loud screech broke the furious wails of the storm, as well as the white haired girl's daze. Could it be an eagle? No. Anaellys knew that this was no bird's cry. Suddenly, a sight that would frighten any sane warrior, set peace to her heart. A gigantic dark figure pierced the silver clouds that loomed by the summit of the mountain above. Shortly thereafter, a powerful gust of air sent her hair blowing instantly back, finally allowing her violet eyes to look at the source. Instead, she closed them, enjoying the force of the wind. It had nearly sent her small frame backwards into the angry sea, where he would have been at the mercy of the gods. But she held her ground. The stronger the gust, meant that her child was strong, and that he was ready to brace the world. Above, the fog dispersed hastily and ever more with each flap of the beasts massive wings. Its dark silhouette slowly faded into a striking white as it approached out of the shadows. Its great wings began to scatter the clouds above, but Anaellys' body did not move. The creature flew straight towards her, rays of sunshine slowly piercing the dark sky with every flap of it's wing. Before she knew it, she bathed in the sunshine while much of the sea around her still loomed in the shadows of the storm. Another screech spread through the horizon, and she embraced with a deep breath of the salty air. The girl raised her palms towards the sky. Suddenly her violet eyes opened, and she found herself staring directly at him. The massive ivory beast was close now. He was plunging toward her. Fixing on her alone. She could see the silver hue in his scales and the warm golden colour of his eye. Her heartbeat accelerated. The beast was only yards away, and she watched it take a deep breath of air into it's fiery lungs. She knew what this meant. Anaellys took a deep breath of her own.

With a deadly silence and pause, fiery red flames projected from the beast's open jaws and enveloped her in warmth. She was exhilarated. She wanted to dance in the flames, embrace the danger, the power, the full force of the great ivory dragon, her son.

Suddenly, nothing.

"Ana! Pigeon, what are you doing still asleep!" Her mother's comforting voice shattered her vivid dream and pulled her into a familiar, disappointing truth. At her bedside, her mother pushed Anaellys' ivory hair from her face. "You are drenched in sweat, child." Suddenly, the unique warmth of her mother's voice dimmed, and Annaellys opened her eyes only to be met by a stern face. "No. You mustn't dream those stories anymore. Otherwise, you'll dream them to reality. Do you know how many of the king's men would come after you, child, if word spread? Gods only know who had heard of you by now. Do you know what --"

Still hazed from her sleep, Anaellys grunted. She knew the speech well. The pale village girl covered her face with the palm of her hands, only to quickly pull them away. She stared at her palms with a frown. Her face was burning to the touch. She touched her cheek once more, tentatively. Yes, definitely burning. In the background behind her hands, she noticed her mother's face only twist more in either wonder or fear. She must have been worried. Anaellys quickly shuffled herself to a sit and pushed her hair behind her ears. "No, no, mother." Anaellys extended a comforting hand toward her mom, resting it on the older woman's forearm. " I'm okay, I promise. I know who I am. I know where my home is. It's with you, and dad, and Aebyn. I will not leave you." Deep, deep down, and she would never admit this, the worlds she had just spoken were a lie. There is nothing that would satisfy Anaellys Antaryon's heart than a true taste of the howling winds in the great ocean, then seeing the endless cities of King's Landing, or the hundreds of richly coloured silks that women wore on the beaches of Dorne. For now, and seemingly for ever, those would and should only remain things of stories for her. Her place was here. In a village found two days on horseback away from the capital of old Valyria.

She could tell that her mother was about to make a comment about her daughter's hot skin toughing her forearm, but decided not to say anything. It was apparent that she was trying hard to relax her face and hide the constant concern that she felt for her daughter. The day that Annara Antaryon would quit worrying about the well-being of her children would be the day she drew her last breath, and nothing else would change that fact. "Well, alright. Let's get you up and going, then. I need you to hunt us a doe while the herd of deer is in our woods. Off I go. Aebyn is with his father, you don't have to babysit." Anaellys noticed that she has been holding her breath, and exhaled hastily. Such was the real life of Anaellys Antaryon. A normal girl with daily responsibilities. The oceans were never as angry, the summits never ask black, sharp, or high, and the winds never as strong as in her dreams. There were definitely no dragons either. Only her trustful mount Peggy, a large chestnut mare. Speaking of the devil, Anaellys could hear her horse nicker outdoors through her window impatiently. A soft smile crept on Anaellys' lips in response. Shh i'll be out in not time.

As her mothers shorter, thicker frame disappeared in the doorframe of her room, into the hallway of their modest but homely house in the woods, Anaerys found herself staring at the auburn and hazelnut colors in her mother's hair. Nothing out of the ordinary about it, really. In fact, most people wouldn't even notice her mother's hair color, it was so ordinary. This was definitely not true in her case.

Daugher of fire, some called her, because when Anaellys Antaryon was born with grey eyes with a violet hue, and hair the colour of the purest cloud, it became obvious to everyone around her that she bore the blood of the dragon. Some feared her, others would watch in wonder. But mother Annara did her best to keep her daughter as sheltered as possible, as normal as possible. Because she could only imagine what horrors would ensure if someone knew that a Targaryen came back to life. Theories about the resurrection of Daenerys scared her especially. The more likely explanation was the sanest one as well. It was long say that b*****d children of the Targaryen family in Old Valyria, as well as their descendants, harboured the dragon genes.However, seeing as the pool is so diluted and distant, a child with the blood of the dragon was never born, because the chances were far to slim. If they ever were born, it is likely they were quickly killed, for fear of bringing water to the village. Those were different time, luckily. Now, people simply required Anaellys to keep it down.

And even if she were to be prone to get a hot head, which she wasn'tt, here were plenty of stories about the Targaryen family that would be sure to keep the daughter of fire humble. One mustn't look further in the past than the great Daenerys' mad brother, Vyserys. A truer son of the Mad King hasn't existed. His blindness, ignorance, and avarice brought him to earn his crown, alright: Khal Drogo poured it as molten gold on his head, until Viserys Targaryen's head was reduced to little more than an apple dipped in caramel. They say that the gold hardened by the time Viserys' body hit the ground. Of course, Anaellys, as well as every child in Valyria, knew from myths and stories that a true dragon would never be harmed by fire. Thus, Viserys was no dragon, unlike his baby sister. Anaellys often found herself wondering how Daenerys looked, how she processed the world. Did she share the vivid dreams? Anaellys had always felt her passion for dander, for fire, for the earth beneath her feet, to be superior to that of the people round her. It was as if she felt the energy of the ancient winged beasts that had once roamed these lands soar through her with every step she took. And she wondered, but never aloud, if this made her different.

All of this reminded the girl that she had washed her hair yesterday in the river and needed to coat it with fresh willow's dust. At the though, she physically sank into the bed, grunting in protest, throwing her head toward the widow. Purple eyes gazed yearningly toward the window, in the general direction of the stable in which her horse rested. Sorry girl, it will take a little longer than anticipated.

Willow's dust was a concoction thought up by the elders of their town. A mixture of dry clay, ashes of willow, and plant syrups that non permanently gave Anaellys the appearance of having chestnut coloured hair, such that she wouldn't stand out when hunting further in the woods. And so, every time the girl would wash her hair, she would wash out the colour, and thereafter require to dutifully re-coat it with a fresh layer of Willow's dust.

And so she did, sacrificing thirty minutes of her day for the safety of her family. Every second she spent massaging the dust into the white strands of her hair, she wish dog nothing more than to run on warm beaches on horseback, her ivory hair flowing in the ocean's winds, like white fire. She this was only a dream.

Soon enough, Anaellys made it out. Her bow and arrow slung across her back, she was ready. Today she wore an outfit of boiled leather, her newly auburn hair flowing in light waves down her back. she had braided the front strands, which merged into one long braid at the back of her head. In the barn, Peggy looked as though it was the first time she'd seen her master in decades. Perked ears and excited neighs, and happy hoofs were only a few signs revealing her excitement.

Anaellys cocked a brow and smiled devoutly. "Let's saddle up, and blow this village in th past for a day " Switfly, the brown-haired girl saddled her horse, and climbed up. "Ha!" She ordered. And her word was Peggy's command. The horse instantly galloped out of the barn and down a familiar path into the woods. Anaellys briefly waved her mother goodbye, and kept her eyes on the prize. Off to the dense woods, beyond which flower fields awaited. These fields were her absolutely favourite place, for beyond the endless sea of spring colours lay nothing but the horizon: a cliff, in fact. A cliff that led down to the salt water below. That is were Anaellys sat for hours on end, staring into the horizon of the narrow sea, wondering who would possibly be staring back at her fro the other shore, form King's landing.

And that is exactly where she was headed.

[HIGH on cough sweets]

“Bring her back to King’s Landing and I assure you the Iron Throne will be yours.”

Such words bounced around in Brandon’s skull every morning and every night. Every morning when he awoke his father’s words would echo in his mind and every night before he drifted off into the realm of sleep Brandon would remind himself of the words. Even if Brandon was to receive a terrible blow to the head, the kind that left people unable to recall the most basic of information regarding their life, he was sure he would still be able to recall those words. Those words carried more weight than anything else that had been said to Brandon throughout his life. All the years he had been educated meant nothing compared to those words: there was no kind of knowledge that he could call upon which he valued higher than the words spoken to him by his father.

“Bring her back to King’s Landing and I assure you the Iron Throne will be yours.”

Yes, he was the second son but his father had assured him that it would happen. William, Brandon’s older brother and the true heir to the throne, was not in possession of all his faculties. People agreed that he would not be the maddest king to ever sit upon the Iron Throne and yet at the same time very few people would be opposed to the sane brother controlling the realm. Such a thing was not merely the view of Brandon. In fact, Brandon would never have stepped against his brother had his father not assured him that things would go as planned. In effect this was the betrayal of a father not a brother. That was, of course, if William ever realised what had happened. Chances were upon seeing the girl William would simply hand over the throne fully aware that it was not his to sit upon (permitting he was having one of his slightly more lucid days).

“Bring her back to King’s Landing and I assure you the Iron Throne will be yours.”

White hair and violet eye: the tell-tale signs of something more, a link to the dragons long gone. There were always rumours but never as many as there had been recently, growing in number as the years passed by and the female grew older. Sure enough she would soon be able to reach her potential if the words spoken were the truth. This was why Brandon had been sent out to fetch her: better to have her on their side rather than face the dragons and lose whatever war was liable to appear. Her appearance would be welcomed by people with open arms; it would work in the favour of Brandon and his family. With the female at his side on the throne nobody would question why the elder brother wasn’t reigning supreme.

“Bring her back to King’s Landing-”

Hearing the start of the sentence slip from his own lips, Brandon jerked awake. Brandon was not alone on his mission, his father being strict in his ruling that his soon was not to travel to Old Valyria alone. Whilst Brandon was more than capable of taking care of himself his father stood by his beliefs: you did not know who or what could be waiting on the other side of the sea and what they would do to the son of the king (even when said son was not the first born). An argument had ensued following his father’s notion that he should take men with him. In the end Brandon had managed to win the argument, but only by giving up ground. Three of his closest friends, three of the best knights he knew, had travelled the Narrow Sea with him. Despite the fact that the group of four were as thick as thieves, Brandon had been unable to tell them the truth behind their mission. They knew that they were searching for someone yet they did not know why this girl was so important. Furthermore they did not know of the bargain that had been struck between Brandon and his father. All the men needed to know was that they were looking for a female who lived a two days horseback ride away from the capital of Old Valyria. At present Brandon still hadn’t spoken up about the silver hair and violet eyes…

Soon: he would have to tell them the truth soon. By the end of the day they would be upon the village where the female was rumoured to live meaning he would need to speak up about it before they reached her.

Anaellys the girl was called, or at least that was what the informants had told them. With so many rumours flying around you could never been one hundred per cent certain that the information you’d been given was correct. That being said, as soon as Brandon set eyes upon the white hair and violet eyes he would know the words were true. It would not matter if there was an error when it came to information regarding her name as such a trivial thing could easily be fixed.

Rubbing his eyes, Brandon staggered to his feet, disappearing off into the surrounding woodland to relieve himself. Upon return, the male kept as silent as he could so not to awaken the other males. Dressed as the everyday civilian, they did not draw that much attention their way even when sleeping rough, despite that someone should have been awake to keep guard. They had more wealth on them than anyone would think, along with concealed weapons. Who had been last on guard? Brandon had taken the first shift, awakening Robert to take over when he tired… that meant either Duncan or Richard had probably taken over not too long ago.

As if on cue, Brandon felt the iciness of a blade against his throat, a large smile covering his face. “Duncan, you know full well that my father will kill you should he find out you killed his second son.”

“I think he would be more concerned if I killed your elder brother, considering how he is heir to the throne,” Duncan countered, the smile visible in his voice. “You should be more careful when creeping around. You didn’t even offer me a second glance when you believed I was sleeping. More than once I have seen a foe play dead, you should keep that in mind.”

“You should also be more careful,” Brandon told his friend. “You’re not the only one with a trick or two up their sleeves.” As he spoke these words, Brandon pressed a small blade against his friend’s stomach. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if we were both to end up a bloody mess?” Brandon teased, having played this routine many times over. Duncan, being the oldest member of their little search, liked to claim he was keeping the younger members of the group active and on edge to ensure they were not caught off guard. Personally, Brandon believed the male had a darkness deep within that he barely managed to contain. Of course, so long as he let that darkness out in a battle instead of murdering his friends whilst they slept everything was just fine.

“We should awaken the others,” Duncan said, letting go of Brandon and returning his knife to his belt. “We need to get moving now that we have daylight. If they’d wanted to sleep they should have avoided the whores when we were in Old Valyria.”

“If you think we’re still tired after our wonderful night with those lovely women you’re sorely mistaken,” Richard told them from the floor, his bright green eyes suddenly staring up at them.

“In all honesty, I was expecting you to be the tired one Duncan, especially with your age,” continued Robert, also grinning up from his spot on the floor.

“If anyone should be tired it should be Brandon,” Duncan told them, as if to brush away the comment about his age. “How many females tried to lure him to their room? I counted at least a dozen.”

“They may have made attempts to lure me and yet I politely declined their offers,” Brandon told them with a shrug, turning his back on them. “You should also know that due to your lack of knowledge when it comes to languages you were all swindled out of money.” Turning back towards his friends, Brandon threw bread towards each male. “Now enough talk about the women you have had, let us talk about the woman we have been sent out to get.”

“Sounds foreboding,” Robert mumbled through a mouthful of bread.

“I wouldn’t call it foreboding, simply that I have been dishonest with you. Now that we’re almost done with our quest to find the female I believe it is time for you all to know the truth,” Brandon told them. From there he went on to explain who they were really after: that they were after a female with silver-white hair and the violet eyes they had all heard so much about growing up. As he relayed the story to his men, Brandon continued to retain the small detail of the Iron Throne being passed on to him if he returned from this journey successful.

By the time Brandon had finished with his story they were once again upon horseback, making their way through the trees towards the village. For a few moments after he was done silence lingered in the air around the males as they all seemed to take in his words, mulling over this new information.

“So it is of the upmost importance that we find her before anyone can taint her views,” Richard finally spoke up, being the first to break the silence.

“Indeed,” Brandon answered. “My father does not believe she will be a threat yet at the same time he would rather the dragons be on our side should they ever return. I know most people do not believe dragons will return to the world ever again yet my father believes you can never be too careful.”

“That is one of the reasons people respect him as a king,” Duncan intoned. “I see the logic in this little quest of yours. Despite the fact that this female is not of noble birth her marriage to your brother will merely strengthen his reign.” There was an unspoken ‘considering his mental state’ hanging in the air, unspoken words which left an uneasy feeling in Brandon’s stomach. At some point it would all come out that he set out on this quest knowing it would result in his brother losing the throne but for the moment it was better if his men did not look at him with disgust in their eyes. For the time being they had a female to find.

“Now I hate to ruin this talk of throne tactics,” Robert interrupted, “but I fear we are going in the wrong direction. Call me crazy but I believe we have already passed this area before. We’re going in circles rather than heading towards this village.”

“Nonsense: we’ve been following the sun! Everything looks the same in the wilderness,” Duncan told him with a sigh, sounding very much like a father whose son was unable to learn the most simple of tasks. “We’re heading in the right direction. We will be upon the village in next to no time at all.”

Except the sun continued to rise higher in the sky and yet they did not come upon the village. In the end Duncan had to admit that he’d been wrong in his belief about moving forward. None of the males could work out where exactly they had lost their way and yet it was a truth they had to accept. This was new terrain that they were not used to working their way through. They had agreed to skip through the trees to arrive at the village sooner and yet here they were getting lost.

“I’m sure we’ll find our way out soon,” Brandon assured them. No sooner had those words left his lips than the sound of a nearby horse caught his attention, forcing him to turn his head away from his men. “We can even ask for directions – unless it shames you too much to do such a thing.” With that Brandon kicked his horse, giving his men a wide smile as he set off towards the sound of a horse.

Mere moment later the sound of horses moving behind him reached Brandon’s ears, alerting him to his men following close behind. It seemed that as soon as they were a group in formation once again they appeared upon a flower field, leaving each of the males to each a quick glance at the others. This certainly was not the village. There was, however, someone present that could offer them directions.

“Excuse me, my lady, could you perhaps help a lost stranger?” Brandon called out in the common tongue. He knew enough languages to call out to her in what would probably be her native tongue but for the moment he was hoping for a language that his men would understand.

Behind Brandon a snort came from Robert, followed by a mumbled, “I did not realise that she was a ‘my lady’.”

“It should be m’lady if you are to play the part of a common man,” Duncan added.

“My lady, m’day: either way being polite will get us somewhere,” Brandon hissed over his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be knights not sell swords: you are supposed to have manners.”

“Says the man who fights dirty,” Robert grumbled, leaving all four of the men to smile widely.

Dirty fighter or not, Brandon had been brought up to treat people in the right way and that was what he was doing here in the hopes of being given the directions he needed to find his silver haired female.

[Tamotsu]

灬 ❈ αηαєℓℓуѕ αηтαrуση ❈ 灬

As sure as the sunrise, the flower fields of dragon lands never failed to paint Anaellys' world in a mythical light. Gentle violets, fiery reds, joyful yellows all sprinkled in a sea of tall grass. The whole world slowed down with the flap of a butterfly's wing, but the sharp salty air that rose from the waves below the cliff reminded Anaellys that not all in life was sweet.

She sat on a boulder facing the cliffside, leaning back on her hands with legs spread out in front of her. Behind her, Anaellys' horse had it's head buried in the fields, happy as ever. In front of her, the view was utterly consuming, the lively colours of the sky, the reflexion of the sun off the water, the sound of eagles slicing through the air as they dove bravely into the watery abyss under them. They would disappear below the water's surface for a second, then two, and one would think that surely the sea had consumed them. Yet, no sooner did the sea spit them back out into the air, with the predator clawing at the sky with it's great black wings with a fish in the grasp of its claws. Anaellys tugged at the corner of her lips, smiling at the prospect of a great white dragon doing just the same. But perhaps with a shark or some sort of whale instead of a wild salmon.

She wondered how many whales lay beneath the shimmering surface of the water, and if dragons truly grew as large as the stories say, large enough to rip a whale, or a kraken, straight our form the sea.

At that, Anaellys closed her eyes, and only opened them once she was done telling herself these were fairy tales in this era. She musn't let old widow's tales get into her mind, else she may start believing them true. This hair on her head, these eyes in her skull, they were nothing more than a combination of traits that happened to resurface in a long lineage known to run in the blood of the villages around Old Valyria. After all, who was she, of all people, to think herself somehow superior, somehow nearer to the ancient . She was just lucky, or unlucky, yes. Just like that boy that lived in the last house of the town. He was born with six fingers and toes. Nothing too decrepit, but nothing too handsome either. Yet, did anybody dub him the "son of the finger monsters" or the usurper to the iron throne in Kings Landing? Did they ever deem him capable of summoning creatures from stone eggs, believed to be extinct for over a century? Did children say that he breathes fire? That he, of all the people in this world, are a threat to the Seven Kingdoms merely by birth?

Anaellys had her hands in a fist. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes weld up with tears. In her silent fury she merely slammer her palm against the bolder beneath her in protest to the old gods and the new. To the lord of light and of darkness, to the ancestors and the mothers. It is said that everyone is given by the heavens only what they can handle.

By the bolder she sat on, three dead rabbits were tied together by a rope around their hind legs. Though it wasn't much, Anaellys was quite proud to catch even this little on this oddly quiet day in the woods. For hours she had decided to hunt, but barely a peddle turned around her. The woods were asleep, except for the little meatless birds singing in the trees above. It is as if the rodents and the deer alike were running and hiding from a force. Perhaps a storm was coming. Then where are the clouds?

Nevertherless, her mother would stew a decent soup from what she had.

Peggy's nervous whinny tore Anaellys attention away from these thoughts immediately.

When she turned around four men stood yards away. It was difficult to see against the son above, angling devilishly toward her, but through the rays of sun she could make them out decently well. After all, those purple eyes had never failed to serve her well. The men wore boiled leather, and clothes that told her they were from Old Valyria. As she observed them, and they observed her during seconds that felt much longer, the huntress stealthily picked up the three hares and tied the ropes that held them together to her belt. She took three confident small steps toward her mare, who met her halfway. She animal bumped it's flared nostrils against her hands, all but begging her to hop on and ride away quickly. "Shhhh, Pegg, shhhh" Anaellys tore her eyes from the men for half a second to she a comforting glance at her animal while she whispered. But to no avail. The horse's tail was whipping at the air nervously and it shifted it's weight with little patience.

But men were capable of much worse than nervous horses. Anaellys fixed her attention immediately back at the intruders to her lovely day. She knew it was stupid to roam around the bare cliffs alone, a young girl like herself, but she was no fool either. When it was time to run, she'd jump astride her mare and race into the woods like they'd done thousand and one times before. But curiosity had the better of her. Four they stood, one older than the others, she could tell by his physique. A father and his sons, mayhaps? What would four Valerian merchants be doing up on the cliff villages without caravan or merchandise. Odd. She grabbed Peggy's reigns with one hand and positions her self by her horses side. Should the men prove to be any discomfort, freedom was but one swift hop-on-a-saddle away.

Odder yet became the situation when the handsome one One of them spoke. and he was not spreaking Valyrian. Anaellys could instant feel her pulse quickening and the rush through her veins. These were no Valyrians. The hand that clasped the reigns clasped them even tighter, ready to leap at any opportunity of offence. The chestnut haired girl took a stern step back toward her horse. It is no secret that city people spoke the common tongue, this much is true, but this accent was not familiar to her ears, and she has heard many accents enough to know which one she shouldn't fear. And this accent she did not know. What do foreigners want of here if not merchandise, if not.... Her mouth became dry. This wouldn't be the first time that foreign men scrounged the valerian lands, looking for the looks of her, for the looks of the dragon.

But the man that spoke, his stance didn't seem offensive. Oh, how friendly you look, foreign man. How handsome and generous and kind. But the likes of you don't understand the likes of me,she thought to herself.

And then it hit her, the udder realization of how close she is from being discovered. Suddenly she was thanking old gods and new alike, that the sun shone in her face, such that she was forced to squint and conceal the colour of her eyes in front of these intruders. Did they see? She hoped they didn't.

She did not know who these men were. Not did she want to. She came upon a sudden realization. So this is the storm that scared the rabbits into their holes and the does into different woods. These assholes were singlehandedly responsible for the beggar's supper the Antaryon's would eat tonight. And she should have known better. Her father had taught her from a young age, to listen to the forest and to the creature within it, for they are far wiser than any man could bare to imagine. And wiser yet were dragons.

Her identity depended on the false men's bad sight. And she did not like these odds. If they saw... if they knew... Oh, her mother's fears swirled in her head and she had to burry them, else she'd surely faint.

"You, not of here." Her voice spoke out loudly and proudly, and she truly hoped it was not tainted by the fear she felt more than by the curiosity. Anaellys may be a villager in the eye of men that travelled far enough to learn the common tongue as well as the man who spoke. But she still spoke a few words, enough to be understood, though sharply articulated. "Common tongue.. Where is this one's mother's birth?" Was that correct grammar, she did not know. And if they did understand that I want to know where they are from, why would they be honest? Honest men do not hide their real clothes falsely under the garments of Valyria. All she knew was that one firm kick of the ground, and we would be on horseback.

And at this instant, a lonesome cloud in the sky drifted in front of the sun, such that Anaellys' eyes were given a chance to see her visitors without offensive rays of light smearing her vision. She did not stop squinting. But she did not stop looking neither, and what she suddenly saw made her blood run cold. They were quipped with swords, daggers...

In a swift movement Anaellys jumped her horse, and Peggy jumped a little in excitement. Gods only can know what stupid reason there was behind the fact that the girl did not bolt for the woods the minute she was mounted. But she felt taller on horseback, more powerful. Her arrows were put a pluck away form the hilt that hung on her back, and the bow was in front of her on the saddle. Anaellys' arrows never missed. "But if your mother's birth place will be false, like you, no answer for me..." Common tongue made her tongue twist, feeling like gibberish. She did not like the taste of it. But atop her mouth, she was a queen, and these men were but four in a land they did not know. Before confusion had time to show on their faces, she gave them the honour of an explanation. "...Because no merchants do travel without merchandise, and no Valyrians do speak without Valyrian tongue." They were about as big a commoner as a white dragon among sheep. And she would not be fooled.

[HIGH on cough sweets]

With a smile playing across his lips, Brandon took in the sight of the female before him. She’d been out fetching food for supper, he guessed, based upon the dead rabbits she had acquired. Or she simply enjoyed the hunt – Brandon knew of many females who would oppose their father’s and take up the sword. This female, however, seemed to be a pretty decent shot with the arrow. From what he could tell from the distance between them and the sun beating down on the world, giving it an almost hazy effect in the light, she had managed to strike home every time with her first shot. The animal would have died instantly, saving her the trouble of getting up close for the kill. However, killing an animal and killing a man were two different things: quite often that was what changed the minds of the females who believed they would one day roam the lands wearing boiled leather with a sword at their side.

When the female spoke up, Brandon gave a slight nod of his head. The accent was a dead giveaway, it always was and she was not the first to notice based upon a few solitary words. Just as her words gave away the fact that she was not accustomed to speaking in the common tongue. She seemed to have a decent grasp of the language yet it was clear to Brandon that she was uncomfortable speaking in such a language. It almost seemed cruel to force her to speak in a language she didn’t find favourable simply so that his men could understand her. “You’re correct in saying we are not from these lands,” Brandon confirmed, still watching the female with all of his attention. There was an edge to her stance, suggesting she was scared of their presence. Of course, she would be. She was a young woman alone in the wilderness and they were four men she did not know. Brandon was sure that many stories with negative endings started in such a way, quite possible tales mothers told their daughters on a regular basis to ensure they did not do anything stupid. “We mean you no harm,” Brandon told her, still wearing his smile. Although, the amusement had left his smile and had now been replaced with what he hoped the female would view as sincerity. Sincere smile or not such were the words anyone meaning her harm would use.

Alas, she clearly did not view his smile as being true of his intent as she was jumping upon horseback. Brandon cocked an eyebrow in questioning at this whilst Robert let out a small chuckle at his side. “Does the lady wish to run from us?”

Before Brandon could tell the male to shush with his commentary the female was speaking again. Clearly she was caught upon the notion of him not immediately speaking up as to where he was from. She seemed a little bit too paranoid for Brandon’s liking yet he could never wish to understand the minds of females. As it stood they had done little to prove they were not a threat: they had appeared out of nowhere, four of them on horseback, and approached her with a question. Surely, however, she would have realised that anyone with ill intent would not have wasted their time standing around trying to get to know her first. If they had wished her harm they could have easily done so before she knew what was upon her.

With a small sigh, Brandon shook his head. “I can speak Valyrian should it make you feel better,” Brandon told her, switching tongues, his Valyrian flawless. If there was one thing which could be said about being brought up in the Tyrell family, it was that they were well educated. Of course, that was true of all noble families, yet being the ones who had the Iron Throne the children needed to be as well educated as possible. As a child Brandon had found it amusing to learn profanities in foreign tongues for amusement purposes, spending most of his time learning such things, but that did not stop him from excelling at languages as a whole. Being the second son, knowing at the time the Iron Throne would never be his, he’d jumped into everything possible to try and ensure he shone more than his brother in some way. Of course, nobody expected him to outshine his brother in every way once William’s faculties started to deteriorate.

“It makes no difference to me what tongue we speak in,” Brandon went on. “As I said, you are correct in noting how we are not of these lands. Evidently you’re more than just a talented hunter.” As he spoke those words, Brandon inclined his head towards her kills, his smile breaking out some more. “We’re from Westeros, but whether or not you believe us is your choice. You have already shown that you’re not one to easily accept what is said. Nevertheless, I assure you that what I say is the truth. There is no reason for me to mislead you in any way. We’re simply looking for directions. My friends here would back up my words however they are not as fluent in Valyrian as I happen to be. They only understand the odd word here and there meaning they will only give you blank stares.” Add in the fact that Brandon was speaking at quite some speed and you understood the perplexed looks that the other three males were wearing. He was fairly sure that none of the other three males had any idea what they were talking about, unsure as to whether they had understood any word at all.

“Furthermore,” Brandon went on, the smile still strong upon his face, “I do not recall saying we were merchants. I would ask my friends as to whether I am mistaken in believing I did not speak those words but as I just explained their knowledge of the language is somewhat limited. Once again it would be dazed expressions upon their faces rather than an answer. From what I can gather you jumped to conclusions far too quickly about us. I’m not sure if there is a law against killing rabbits but I promise you I will not be telling your secret so you need not worry on that front.” Hopefully the jape would lighten her mood somewhat, leaving her more willing to comply. With that in mind, Brandon went on to add another half-hearted joke into the mix. “As for mistaking us for merchants… well, a man can never be too careful when travelling across unknown lands. You never know what danger is lurking in the greenery. Of course, if you wish to rob us I would have to tell you we have no money and that we have no idea how to protect ourselves. The disguise is both a blessing and a curse in that sense.”

Brandon allowed those words to hang in the air as he watched the female for any change in stature. Anything, even the slightest decrease in the tension in her shoulders, would be enough for him. When a few moments had passed without any apparent change, Brandon let out an exasperated sigh before he shook his head. “You drive a hard bargain,” Brandon went on, feeling as though he was using up all the words. If he kept going at this rate he wouldn’t have anything at all to say to her ever again. “Perhaps if I offer up some more information you will be more willing to help us? I’m Brandon. The older man on my left is Duncan. He’s a little bit terrifying in the morning but do not let him know I said such a thing. His Valyrian is the best out of the three of them but I know for a fact he has no idea what I just said about him. The cocky one who does not know when to shut his mouth is Robert. He is harmless once you get to know him. The male on my right is Richard. He can also be cocky at times but mostly he only does it to play along with Robert. His grasp of any language seems to be limited to words useful in a brothel.” Brandon was silent for a few moments as he thought over what else could possible leave the female more willing to open up. “The male who sold me the horse I’m riding informed me that her name is Polly: the only one of our horses to have a name.”

Another exasperated sigh came from Brandon as he threw his hands up in surrender. “Other than that I have no idea what will gain your trust. All we desire is some directions and then we will leave you to continue hunting rabbits. We just want directions to the nearest town so that we can rest somewhere other than on the ground.” Of course, it also helped that the nearest town – unless they had managed to travel completely off course – was where the white haired female was believed to live. In fact, it was possible that the brown haired female before him knew of this girl hence why she was unwilling to speak up to strangers. Brandon knew how small villages could be very protective of their own. He was positive that this would not be the first time that strangers had turned up looking for the white haired female. Moreover, of those who had turned up looking for her, Brandon was sure some would have arrived with malicious intent. The tales of old were enough to leave many people fearful upon hearing about a white haired female, many would have been more than happy to try to destroy such a threat. In fact, he was rather surprised that his father didn’t opt for the destruction option rather than the alliance. That being said, if there was one way to strengthen the Tyrell claim to the Iron Throne it was through a union with someone who was a descendent of those believed to be the true heirs to the throne.

However, in the moment such thoughts were of no real use to the male. As it stood he was keeping his eyes trained upon the female, expecting her to dart at any moment. Whilst he had no wish to give chase – especially considering how fearful it would leave the female – he was aware that following her would probably take him straight into the village they were searching for. If his belief was correct, that this female had some kind of inkling as to why they were currently standing before her, she would return to her village instantly to raise the alarm. Rushing into the village would do him no good but it would be better than staying stranded in the trees for another couple of days before finally managing to stumble upon the village which would be armed to the teeth ready to fight them off.