A Song of Grace & Fury

(A/N: It's barely been a week but feels like I'm posting after a month.)

"Huh. Earlier than last time."

I cast a disinterested glance at the vast expanse of sand around me, stretching to the horizon under a raging sky. Thunder roared, and crimson lightning surged above dark clouds that did little to dull its brilliance. It continually attempted to creep into winds of gold, like a kind of weed, but was struck down the moment it crossed over.

The sand under my feet, slinking between my toes, was a graveyard of the countless dragons I had killed and devoured. The sky above was the final defiance of their two rulers who refused to surrender and accept the truth that came from their essence alone, even though their flesh had long become part of my own.

The strange thing was, they rarely ever approached me, content to brood and plot in silence like the stodgy old bastards they were. One of them would call out to declare his eternal defiance and 'rivalry' once every few centuries, but never so soon.

Eh, well, it all dulled down after a certain point to be honest.

Time only ever felt real when I was having fun, and I was having quite a bit of it these days.

"What is thine will? Thy intentions?"

"It's you this time?" I smiled and plopped down on the sand. As always, it never stuck to my body, betraying its own nature.

It wasn't Bayle the Dread that was questioning me. It was his and my own greatest foe.

The Lord who was there long before Marika had her machinations and designs for godhood and an ever-lasting empire. The Lord of Dragons, the mightiest among them, and the one that the beastkin devoted their being to worshipping by virtue of the sheer raw power he commanded.

And personally, a tyrant who had little regard for anything at all beyond his own pride.

Dragonlord F-Flaccidusax.

"Stark change from a throne beyond time, isn't it? This place?" I called out idly, drawing circles in the sand beside me. "Still, talk normal for fuck's sake. I know for a fact you've been listening to me long enough to understand how stupid you sound with that way of speaking."

The raging sky silenced itself and moments passed before a great flash of gold tore into the sand.

"Haha. Better luck-... Better luck never. You're not getting any chances."

I had lived long enough to be able to let go of the countless deaths I'd endured under his kin, and himself. I just simply refused to stop hating on him.

The sands shifted and rose into the air then fluttered aside to reveal a great beast. One that was the farthest thing from the Black Dread I'd conversed with on my last visit here.

He didn't have three heads, like he did in our battle, nor did he have none like after ours ended. No, five heads twisted and turned until ten sets of eyes made of the purest gold rested on me. He bared his fangs easily, and I could recall the pain they'd inflicted.

Each single part of his body, from those massive wings of gold, to the shifting invulnerable stone that could only be damaged by a weapon designed with the ability to distort time itself, and the snapping jaws filled with rows of sharp teeth... even his pale gold underbelly, reminded me of a great many deaths I'd.

He had ripped me apart. Burnt me alive. Ground me to paste in his teeth. Eaten my while my heart still beat. Crushed me. Sliced me to shreds. Blown me to cinders. Tossed me across time.

Again, and again, and again, and then again and again.

I too returned, again, and again, and again, and then again and again until he was the one that broke, with a weapon I fashioned from his own broken scales.

Even when the Crucible Knights were called away, and Maliketh returned to Marika, I had struggled against him for victory.

But then, I could see it in his eyes.

"You remember it too."

"I always will," The five heads rumbled in a voice like grating stone, "You gorged upon mine flesh. Like a savage beast of depthless hunger surpassing even mine kin. I do not hold it against you. Now answer me this... As victor, why must you use our might to play amongst insects?"

"Play?" I raised a brow.

"Play," He answered, baring rows of sharp teeth, "Or do you think it something else?"

"It isn't really playi-... Huh," I put a hand to my chin, "I guess it is. I'm just doing what I want."

"Then trample. Conquer. As is the right of the mighty. You can break their little world before the sun sets."

I cocked my head, "Why would I?"

What would be the point in being some tyrannical despot?

It wouldn't be very amusing.

It would even deprive me of the basic things I had come to enjoy so much in this world. Like helping a farmer with some critters, or an innkeep with his fence, or protecting someone out of something other than a misplaced sense of loyalty.

"Because that is the right of the strong."

Dragons only bent to might. That was all he ever knew. It was all I ever knew for a time. It was true to a certain degree. But... I couldn't understand wanting to make others bend in the first place, even if I could make sense of it from a perspective other than my own.

"Is it now?" I asked calmly.

"Indeed. Doing what you desire. It is what makes a tyrant."

"Am I one?"

He paused a moment, then let out a great roar that made the vast sands tremble. Even as dead, the dragons seemed to recognise their lord. His roar soon turned into a grating noise that resembled... laughter?

"Thou'rt the greatest of tyrants! What great feat hast come of thee that did not find birth in thine own desire to be free?! Gods have been trampled in thine selfish war for freedom! Demigods! Dragons! Thou have made prey of all yet..." His heads leaned in close, and I knew he thought he was ridiculing me, "You play with insects. And think it is because you are 'good'?"

I closed my eyes and let out a hum, "Maybe you're right. But I am a helluva lot better than you."

"Why help them?"

"Cause I've come to learn the heart is a damn pretty thing. Look at how motivated they get for people they don't even know." I looked up at the Dragonlord with a small smile. "And 'cause a father giving his life for his kid will always be, infinitely, more admirable than a power-hungry, prideful bastard like you."

He roared in defiance, then laughed at me again, "And you think you have one? A heart?"

"Maybe?" 

That was something even I couldn't be sure of. All I knew was, I would much rather help someone than make them suffer for no reason at all, or disregard them entirely.

"You help them because it amuses you. Fool," He seemed to read my thoughts. "There are those among them that claim to be your kin yet it does not upset you."

"Grow up, damn."

He was ancient when I was young, and now that I was ancient, he was in a different league entirely when it came to age. But, for some reason, he was still stuck in that strange might makes right mindset of his and refused to accept that for many, such a thing wasn't a possibility.

In our world, one could be judged for weakness because it was their own fault. Any with the will could become strong. Regardless of birth.

This world was not the same.

"We shall see." He declared finally, fading into the sands once again.

It was boorish to have to discuss the same things again and again so I hoped he would have something different to complain about next time.

-

I opened my eyes to the plank ceiling of my cabin. It was a rather small one, with a small door only three steps beyond the hammock I'd strung up next to the wall. My trench coat hung on a rack beside the door. The only other furniture in the room was a small table under a grate window with my satchel on it.

The gentle rocking made it evident we were over calm waters, and I quite liked the fresh scent of the sea even if not all enjoyed it.

"Well, that was a conversation," I took my hat from my chest and sat up, casting a wayward glance at my coat before deciding on going out as is.

We were at sea, and most of the faces on this ship were familiar ones, so I had no need to embody the essence of fashion souls. 

Whistling, I made my way above.

Unlike the graveyard I'd just visited, the sky was clear and blue, with small puffs of white littered all over it. The men aboard didn't seem to be enjoying the Sun beating down on them if the sweat on their brows and the alcohol in their hands was anything to go by.

"Thank the Seven we have good wind or they'd be rowing themselves." Aurane appeared beside, like before. 

The Bastard of Driftmark looked like a right pirate then, rugged tricorne and overcoat and all that jazz. He was even smoking a pipe and had a foot on the railing as he stared out into the sea.

"You don't seem to mind it much though," I prodded.

"That Velaryon blood I'd wager," He shrugged. "The sea's my home. I'm just grateful the King doesn't give a shit about me being a bastard."

I pursed my lips, "It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"The Queen seems to think it different, Lord," He gestured to the ship beside us. Queen Selyse Baratheon nee Florent stood under the main sail, hands over her stomach and a perpetual frown on her thin face. "She's been glaring at me for who knows how long now."

He laughed slightly, "Seems to think I don't notice it."

"Meh, not like it's costing you anything," I shrugged, "Hell, it should be like an achievement."

"She's not the first. She won't be the last. I don't find myself caring either way."

"Good man."

Aurane licked his dry lips and cracked a smile, "Aye. That said..." He turned to stare at me with curious grey-green eyes. "It true what that Red Priestess' been peddling? That you're a part of R'hllor or whatever?"

"Has she now?"

I was certain I'd shut down that whole thing as plainly as I could.

But...

"I guess that's just how fanatics are."

-

Hope you enjoyed.