Dorne, The Broken Arm
Nymeria Nymeros Martell
It had been more than three days since her first real battle, and the twenty nine ship fleet was returning victoriously to Sunspear in a hurry, unsure of what it would find at home. The few prisoners they had captured were consistent on two things. The large force of ironborn was on the Stepstones, of which they themselves were a part, and their alliance with the pirate lords.
Nymeria, as soon as she heard this, wanted to head back immediately, but after a moment's reflection and a conversation with Morgan and a few trusted commanders, she realised that this was unwise.
In addition, just before sunrise, they heard distant thunder, and the air itself trembled in an unexplained way. This happened several times in quick succession.
Her troops were fatigued after the battle, and even a bigger Ironborn army would struggle to seize Sunspear or Shadow City, both of which were heavily fortified, and only a significant treachery or unnatural force would help the Ironborns to seize the fortress.
"Rest assured, my beautiful niece. Even if the city was besieged while we were away, it is preferable to break the siege with rested men rather than exhausted." Morgan spoke to her while sitting next to her on one of the crates, carefully peeling an orange.
"In addition, these pillagers are unfit for sieges. They are only capable of quick attacks on unsuspecting, vulnerable villagers and merchant ships."
Nymeria could see no flaws in his reasoning, and calm logic told her that this was the wisest strategic decision. However, the awful feeling in the back of her skull persisted. She had a horrible feeling, but she couldn't define what it was. It was even making her insane.
"I hope you are correct, and that our stranger sorcerer was able to stop the Ironborn fleet on the south coast," she remarked, yawning. Fatigue was already causing her to sigh, exacerbated by a lack of sleep.
"I still don't want to believe that someone so powerful exists, but I grew up hearing stories of powerful Rhoynar water mages sinking Valyrian armies, and just across the sea is an 'empire' of dragon riders."
Uncle Morgan looked at her with his trademark smile, then said with conviction in his voice, "I travelled much when I was your age and saw many wonders, but I believe it was only a fraction of what this world hides."
"In addition, to Ulrik's word, I am able to entrust my life without a second thought. This man has sucked the chivalrous virtues out of his mother's milk, and I am not just saying that because he is my brother-in-law. His only crack in the armour was none other than Ysillda."
She smiled at these words, recalling their last visit to Starfall.
At that moment shouts came from the crow's nest, "Ships", "Ironborn". Nymeria immediately jumped off the crate and ran to the bow of the ship, with Morgan following close behind.
And indeed from behind the last of The Broken Arm's peninsulas, some half a mile ahead of their fleet, five longships emerged, only two of which were in good condition, the rest bearing numerous signs of fires. Blackened hulls, scorched sails.
She was surprised that they were able to sail at all, but as they got closer, she understood what was driving them. The fear of the crew. Fear in its purest form.
"They don't even try to run.... What could have broken them to such an extent?" She asked, looking at her uncle for an answer, but he seemed just as confused as she was.
"I don't know, and I wouldn't want to meet what brought them to such a state, but on the other hand, I can't help but feel satisfaction at the sight." Replied Morgan, shaking his head in disbelief, then shouting orders, "Prepare to take over the longships."
Soon the Dornish ships surrounded the ironborn in a tight circle, and hundreds of archers stood with their bows, ready to draw the string and fire in a split second. But this was not necessary, for these men had no will to fight, and the terror in their eyes was mingled with apathy.
Nymeria watched with cold eyes as her men began to disarm the captives, doubts gripping her inside; nevertheless, she knew that as a ruler she must also be ruthless at times, especially against her enemies, so she ordered in a firm voice.
"Leave the captains and the few remaining alive; kill the rest. Throw the bodies overboard and burn the ships. Bring the prisoners to me."
Some of the pirates tried to fight back but were quickly pierced with spears, as were the posse.
Nymeria waited aboard the Spear of the Seas, her flagship, while prisoners were led to her against a backdrop of burning ironborn longships.
"Tell us what happened to your ships and what put you in such terror. Answer truthfully, and I will ensure your swift death; otherwise you will face torture." her voice more confident than she actually felt, but she hid well the curiosity she felt.
Those, however, remained silent, whether out of obstinacy or simply fear of speaking of what filled them with such dread. Morgan walked up to one of them and slapped him across the face with the back of his hand. "The princess will not be repeated." But even that didn't help.
So her uncle pulled a dagger from behind his belt and, grabbing the man's hand, cut off his index finger. The deck was filled with cries of pain and curses from the man clutching his hand.
One of the younger prisoners broke down at this sight and began to babble, "The demon, dragon, the fire god, has unleashed the flames of his wrath upon us. The whole fleet destroyed, the prince slain, and his voice shakes the earth and stirs the sea. Our god has forsaken us."
Nymeria furrowed her brow, trying to understand what this one might be talking about, but to no avail. However, one thought kept her thinking. Enemy ships were sailing along the coast, so they must have sailed past Sunspear or come from there. This thought filled her with anxiety.
"My princess. These people have lost their minds with fear." Her thoughts were interrupted by one of the men, heavily greying with many scars on his face and a devious gleam in his green eyes, lurking in a sea of fear.
"I fear neither torture nor death, but if you promise me mercy, I will tell you everything I know and have seen."
Her men were visibly agitated at his impertinence, and she felt like ordering him executed on the spot, but not knowing if she would learn anything from the other prisoners, she finally replied, "Agreed. I will spare your life. But if even one of the things you say turns out to be a lie, you will die in the worst possible way."
Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at her uncle, seeking his opinion, and he only nodded approvingly, filling her with relief.
The old ironborn only nodded, then began to speak, but you could feel the disbelief in his voice. "Maybe I should start at the beginning. Our King Qhorin has formed an alliance with the pirates of Stepstones, and there we have been for the past weeks under the leadership of Prince Qhorwyn. A total of well over a hundred ships. We were supposed to wait for a signal from the main fleet, but when your fleet left Sunspear, Qhorwyn decided to attack."
Nymeria shuddered. But she remained silent, for it was clear that the attack had somehow been stopped.
"Everything was going our way; we even had the blessing of the Drowned God with us, who brought a fog to shield us from the senses of our enemies." continued the man.
"A few longships quickly and quietly took over your ships stationed on the coast and stayed behind, while the majority of the fleet struck covertly at the city and the fortress. Over six thousand men. I could not see what was happening inside; however, we certainly took over the walls."
There were shouts of fury and disbelief from crew members and warriors all around. Although the Dornish had a much more relaxed approach to belief in the Seven and did not deny the existence of magic, they had been brought up to believe that other gods were false and did not exist. What angered them more, however, was the thought of their families being attacked by these scum.
"Silence!" shouted Nymeria, equally concerned about the fate of her city, but she wanted to know what had happened. "Go on," she ordered the man.
He looked around at the Dornish people surrounding him, then said, "You may not believe me in the actions of my god, but you will believe in the One Whose Voice Shakes the World..."
"Who are you talking about? What kind of crazy title is that? Some new religion?" He was interrupted by Morgan, but the ironborn continued as if nothing had happened.
"Then came a voice like thunder, speaking words in a language I did not know. Whether it was an incantation or a command from a god, I do not know, but the air trembled, the earth shook, and the sea rose, and then there was silence. The mist created by He Who Dwells Beneath the Waves disappeared in an instant, and the sea was calm."
"But then came another cry, even louder than the first. One moment it was dark except for the light of the moon and the stars; the next, the world was filled with light and unbearable heat. Along the shore where our boats had landed, a giant column of fire appeared, a mile long, engulfing everything in its path. The ships nearby that had not been hit caught fire from the heat alone..." The man began to visibly shake at the memory of the event.
"Impossible," she whispered, and the thought was probably echoing in the minds of everyone present. "Impossible," she repeated louder.
"I know what I saw, what we all saw," the other replied with anger in his voice. "Then a few more of those magic spells rang out, but I don't know what they did, but they had no effect on us, and by then we had already decided to save our lives and sailed away. The only thing we heard were the words of his proclamation, which were etched into each of our memories, and we can't forget them even if we wanted to."
"What were those words?" she asked, holding her head, feeling a grow
"Zu'u Laat Dovahkiin, Ysmir Strundu'ul, Dovahsebrom, Alduin Feyn." Spoken in this strange language. Each word cuts through me like an icy blade.
"The rest of the words were already spoken in the common tongue, and they were: Ironborn, listen carefully! I have killed your king, his heir and most of the lords of the Iron Islands! There is nothing left of your main fleet, and the longships on which you came here have been consumed by flames! I do not want you to surrender; I am simply informing you that it is now your turn!" I remember them well, although they were no longer accompanied by that terrifying feeling.
"Hearing these words, we rowed even faster. Who could do such things if not a god? So we named him. He Whose Voice Shakes the World."
Nymeria looked to her uncle for advice, but he just shook his head and replied, "I don't know what to make of this story. I do know that nothing normal will scare a warrior to the point where he loses his will to fight, even if he is just the scum of the sea."
She knew what she had to do now. The unknown of what had happened to her home was eating her up inside. "Raise all sails; we're returning to Sunspear at full speed." Then she looked back at the old Ironborn before adding, "Lock the prisoner below deck."
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Westeros, The Sunset Sea
He Who Dwells Beneath the Waves
He hadn't been this angry in millennia... No, no... Furious. Yes. He felt fury. How dare this abomination challenge him? Kill his worshippers. Did he care about wars on land? No. But when he gave his blessing, none should dare to simply destroy it. He clenched his fists, the air around him crackling with barely contained energy. This affront would not go unpunished; he would unleash his wrath upon those who dared to defy him, ensuring that they would remember the consequences of their insolence for eternity, their minds broken and their souls devoured.
These human worshippers had proved pathetic. Millennia of his slumber had made them weak. All that remained of those who had spread terror and true despair in his name was this: the weak fools. He would not allow their incompetence to tarnish his name. With a roar that echoed through the ancient stone halls, he vowed to rise once more, to reclaim his power and instil fear in the hearts of those who dared defy him.
It was time for the world to remember his presence and pay him his due. For the sea to be feared once more. But he couldn't rely on humans for that.
He slowly turned his massive head, followed by tentacles that cut through the water, each larger than any sea dragon. His glowing red eyes stared at the vast host of his oldest servants. Those who belonged to the depths. Those who were the embodiment of fear from thousands of years ago. Many more were yet to awaken from their slumber.
< The creatures, resembling deformed humanoid hybrids of humans and sea creatures, let out inhuman cries before rushing to the surface with one goal. To kill the one who had insulted their god. They surged through the water with a ferocity that sent ripples across the calm sea, their grotesque forms slicing through the waves like arrows, and a sinister gleam lit their eyes, driven by the promise of their master's wrath and the thrill of the hunt.
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Dorne, Sunspear
He Whose Voice Shakes the World
He spent most of the day after the battle treating the wounded, which proved to be more of a challenge than he could have anticipated. Not only was he exhausted from the abuse of Thu'um, but his mind was not as sharp as it would have been had he been at full strength.
Just treating wounds with Voice was much more difficult than using magic from the Restoration School. Especially as his understanding of the words for healing was far from desirable. The souls of his absorbed brothers did not contain this knowledge, as dragons never bothered to heal. For the most part, their wounds innate regenerative abilities did the job. Luckily, he had a few staves with healing spells, but he had to save them until he could figure out a way to recharge them. So he only used them for the worst cases.
So, while trying to heal the wounded, he was also learning to understand the Words of Power he needed. In any case, if the residents of Shadow City treated him like a mythical hero after repelling the attack and slaughtering the ironborn, then after revealing his healing abilities and healing hundreds of wounded, they began to treat him like a deity. Some of them called him Divine.
He would like to see the faces of some of his old comrades. They would hardly recognise him now, cloaked in reverence and surrounded by grateful citizens who hung on his every word. Yet, despite the adoration, he felt a profound sense of responsibility weighing heavily on his shoulders.
Overall, he felt really good, except for one small problem. Namely, he had killed one of the Dornish lords in the city... Accidentally, of course. It was just that that idiot Yurwood or Ironwood, whatever his name was, had really annoyed him with his attitude.
The city had been attacked, a lot of people had died and even more had been injured, and that piece of shit had the nerve to try to turn him against the reigning princess and her family. The fact that Nymeria was Ysilla's niece was the only thing Ulrik and Alarik had spoken of her in only positive terms.
However, what made him crush his skull in his hand was the fact that he reminded him of this one guy he truly hated. His name was Erikur, and he had also once annoyed him. End of story.
The princess's mother made a much better impression on him, although according to Maester Marq, she was no longer the woman she had been before the deaths of her husband and sons. That didn't change the fact that she had been the first to sort out the chaos that had reigned after the battle.
He slept practically the entire next day, realising how exhausted he was. On the third day, familiar faces finally appeared in the fortress. Dressed only in airy beige pants and a white silk shirt, he was enjoying his morning coffee, sitting on one of the marble benches in the palace courtyard while bathing in the rays of the sun.
Neferion laughed heartily at the sight of two brothers from the Dayne clan entering the courtyard. Although they had known each other for a short time, they had earned his respect. Both reminded him of the people of Nirn, whom he remembered very fondly and called friends.
Ulrik reminded him of Jarl Balgruuf with his sense of duty and responsibility for his people. Both were also painfully honest. Alarik, on the other hand, was very similar to Vilkas, and it wasn't just about fighting skills but also character. Both could always be relied on.
The brothers smiled at the sight of him, although they didn't reach the end of their eyes, as if something was weighing heavily on them. What? He guessed. To any ordinary man, what he did seemed to go beyond the limits of mortals and bordered on miracles or even seemed like such.
"Ulrik, Alarik. Hello, friends." He greeted them, moving towards them, opening his arms wide. "I see you have finally joined me, but you must forgive me, for I have left you no living Ironborn."
Ulrik was the first to greet him, but he remained as formal as ever, "Lord Neferion. It is good to see you, as Sunspear is unconquered. You have my thanks, as well as every Dornishman's for what you have done here and before, destroying the enemy's main fleet. Words cannot express what you have done for us."
Neferion stopped in front of him and, patting him gently on the shoulder, replied, "I did what anyone in my position should have, wielding such powers as I did. The Ironborn were a plague that needed to be destroyed. I intend to visit the Iron Islands when the time is right, but first I must prepare for my confrontation with their deity. But that is a topic for another time."
"I know this may seem ridiculous, but I offer you my sword whenever you need it." Alarik said to him, his voice firm and slightly ashamed. He probably thought his sword would be of no use to the Dovahkiin.
"Even if I don't need your fighting skills – though I don't rule anything out – I certainly wouldn't refuse your company on some journey or adventure. Often that's more important." He replied, taking the man hand by the forearm in a warrior's grip.
"You'll have them whenever you want." The other replied, a genuine smile finally appearing on his face.
"You'll always find a safe haven and friends in Starfall." The older brother also assured.
"Thank you. I really appreciate it, but maybe we can find some servants and have breakfast now. I've only managed to treat myself to coffee for now." He suggested, hoping that they could talk less formally over the meal.
Ulrik shook his head, "I think we need to hold off on the meal. We also came to inform you that Dornish ships have been spotted in the north. It looks like our princess is returning home."
"Hmh. Could I finally have the honour of meeting this young woman I've heard so much about? Good. I must also reprimand her for her stupid idea of leaving the capital with only a few ships. If it weren't for me, Sunspear would have fallen, and the residents of Shadow City would have been put under the knife or enslaved." And he really wanted to meet this young woman, because from her descriptions alone she seemed to be a better ruler than most he had met.
Although, had he met any competent rulers besides Balgruuf? Elisif was okay; she only lacked experience… Ulfric, that fucking arrogant Nord. It was a good thing he had lost his soul in a game of cards to Sheogorath. He could only wish him the worst luck in the Shivering Isles.
Emperor Titus Mede II was simply weak. The Medes should not have ruled the Empire at all. Only the Dragonborns had the strength to do so. Incidentally, all his plans to rebuild the empire had gone to oblivion. His strength and royal bloodline gave him a real chance to unite all the provinces, including the Dominion lands.
"Well, let's go meet our princess then," he finally suggested, shaking his thoughts and heading towards the gate leading to the coast.
"Yes. Let's go." Ulrik agreed and followed him along with his brother.
The walk didn't take them long, maybe 10 minutes. The guards and civilians they passed greeted them at every turn. Mostly him, actually, and their reverent gazes followed them constantly.
"So? Divine? An appropriate title, I guess?" Alarik asked, seemingly serious, but his lips twitched, trying not to laugh.
"Oh, shut up," Neferion replied, grinning. "That's a perfectly appropriate title to describe my magnificence."
A large crowd had already gathered on the quay, mostly women and children, waiting for their husbands, fathers or sons to return. However, seeing his towering figure, they immediately made way for them, although there were a dozen or so women who approached with small children asking for a blessing.
Not really knowing what to do, he used thu'um on them, the whisper of which carried lightly throughout the city.
"HAAS FARAAN KUN" (Health, Fortune, Goodness)
He truly hoped that these Words of Power would bring them good health, happiness, and help them maintain a proper moral code.
The bodies of the children were surrounded by golden light for a moment, and then disappeared inside them.
The mothers were delighted, and the people around watched in adoration. So more and more of them began to approach with their children, asking him to do the same to them. So he had to use the thu'um several more times, each time blessing more and more children.
Before he knew it, several ships were docked at the shore, while the rest sailed to the port of Planky Town.
Soon, lifeboats were lowered from the ships and headed for the shore. When they reached the shore, the first person to leave was a young woman of extraordinary beauty with long raven black hair braided into a braid and amber eyes. With a heart-shaped face, a straight delicate nose, and perfect lips, she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, even considering the members of his race.
The princess, for it was undoubtedly her, stopped nearby and looked at him with interest. After a moment, she spoke in a clear, melodic voice, "So you must be He Whose Voice Shakes the World, and to you I should be grateful for saving my city and my people. And not destroying it in the process."
"Beautiful, strong, intelligent, and with a sense of humour. Just my kind of woman," he thought.
However, seeing her flushed cheeks and the looks around him, he realised that he had said those words out loud.
Oh well. Maybe he shouldn't have said that before a first date. Especially to a princess in public, but since when did he care about such things?
"Ah. So it's nice to finally meet you, Princess."