» 10/1/2020 - ivar x targaryen oc «
In the great City of Pentos, inside of the Magister's extravagant mansion, there was a young princess. Her hair, silver and silky, tumbling down her slim back in loose strands and untangled braids. She barely re...
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When Visenya awoke the day after, she was greeted by a cacophony of familiar, foreign voices and the biting cold wind assaulting her skin like a frigid hammer. Ironically, the night had grown even colder than she thought would be possible, considering how far north they had travelled. This drop in temperature coincided with a fierce storm that battered and fought against the ships. Despite the chaos, the princess had managed to slip into a slumber, finding an eerie calmness amidst the tumult, as if the threat of drowning offered a strange solace to her frightened mind.
"Is she dead?" questioned a man in his foreign tongue. His accent was so thick that Visenya had to take a moment to decipher his words. With a flicker of her violet eyes, she found herself surrounded by a small throng of people as she lay slumped against the other shivering slaves who had made it through the storm. Much like herself, they were freezing, soaked to the bone in seawater and rain, and huddled together in a fearful assembly.
Helga surged forward from the group surrounding them, unexpectedly embracing Visenya firmly to her breast.
"You're alive!" she exclaimed in her mother tongue, her relief palpable. Despite being drenched like the rest, it appeared resilience was a commonplace among her people, for unlike the captives of Essos, Helga and her people remained composed and devoid of tremors or shock. The princess frowned against Helga's chest, trying not to enjoy the comfort of the woman's warmth.
Floki, Helga's weather-beaten husband, knelt beside the two women with an inscrutable expression etched onto his face. The aftermath of the storm had left the ship in disarray. Clearly, the storm must have been stronger than what he and his people were used to. Visenya realised then that it wasn't just the slaves who had taken the toll of the storm, but the foreigners also. Everyone on board was soaked from the nights relentless onslaught. Nearby, men were diligently bailing out excess water using wooden buckets and horned cups. Some men were patching up the battered sails, and others were counting their last rations as some supplies had been swept into the ocean.
Beside Visenya, Tyene clung tightly to Melda and another unfamiliar girl she didn't know, all three of them bond-forged in their shared struggle for survival during the storm. In the midst of the huddled slaves, Aidrn watched everyone with wide, frightened eyes, a silent witness to the chaos. Visenya felt a surge of relief knowing everyone had made it through the storm.
She offered Aidrn a reassuring smile, but he only tucked his chin into his knees, trying to find a semblance of comfort amidst his uncertainty. Visenya supposed she could understand his fear and detachment.
"Surprised you slept through it all," Floki mused to himself, tilting his head curiously. "For a while, we thought you were gone, like a startled bird!" He let out a chuckle at his own analogy, clearly entertained, but it left Visenya feeling uneasy, and it prompted the princess to withdraw from Helga's embrace and wrap her arms around the leather bag of dragon eggs tucked within her damp, trembling form.
