As the sun began to rise over the Narrow Sea, casting long shadows across the waves, Haehra and Aevon flew eastward on Helhiem, the majestic dragon. Her scales shimmered like molten lava under the morning light, and her wings sliced through the cool air with ease and grace. Haehra's heart was a turbulent mix of emotions, her mind replaying the events at Driftmark. The confrontation with Alicent, the cut on her arm, and Aevon's courage in protecting his cousins were memories that lingered like an echo of a distant storm.
Haehra's gaze fell on her son, who sat close behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist. Aevon was quiet, his usual vivacity dimmed by the night's events. She could feel the tension in his small frame, a testament to the burdens he had unexpectedly shouldered. "Aevon," she called back to him over the rush of the wind, "you were very brave back there. I'm proud of you."
"I didn't feel brave," Aevon replied, his voice small yet earnest. "I was scared, Mother."
Haehra smiled softly, knowing well the complexities of courage. "Courage doesn't mean not being afraid, my love. It means acting despite the fear. You stood up for your family, and that's something to be proud of."
The words seemed to lighten his spirit a little, and Haehra was glad. The sky ahead was clear and vast, a limitless canvas that promised safety and solace away from the web of politics and power struggles they had left behind. As the hours passed, the coastline of Essos loomed closer, revealing a vast expanse of rolling plains under the morning sun.
...
Their approach was heralded by the familiar silhouette of the Dothraki encampment. The khalasar stretched across the landscape like a living, breathing entity, its heart beating with the rhythm of horses' hooves and the chatter of thousands of voices. Haehra felt a wave of relief wash over her. This was home. A land where the bonds of family and the strength of the Dothraki culture held firm.
Helhiem descended gracefully, her landing as gentle as a leaf falling to the ground. The dragon's immense form stirred the air and kicked up a cloud of dust that quickly settled, revealing the bustling life of the camp. Dothraki warriors paused in their training, and children ran over to see the dragon, their eyes wide with admiration and awe.
Khal Ragnar emerged from his tent, a commanding figure with the sun at his back. His presence was a mix of strength and warmth, a testament to his role as both a fierce warrior and a devoted family man. His hair was dark and flowed freely past his shoulders, framing a face marked by a lifetime of battles and triumphs.
As soon as Haehra dismounted, Ragnar enveloped her in a firm embrace, his touch grounding and reassuring. "Haehra," he murmured, holding her close, "I'm glad you're back safely my love."
Aevon slipped down from Helhiem, and Ragnar swept him up into a bear hug. "And you, my son. I hear you were quite the hero."
Aevon grinned, a genuine smile lighting up his face for the first time since they left Westeros. "It's good to be home, Father."
Ragnar set Aevon down and turned his attention to Haehra's arm, where Alicent's blade had left a scar. Concern clouded his eyes as he examined the wound. "What happened?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.
Haehra recounted the events at Driftmark, her words painting a vivid picture of the tension and turmoil they had left behind. Ragnar listened intently, his expression shifting from concern to anger, and then to pride as she described how Aevon had stepped forward to defend his cousins.
"You showed great courage, Haehra," Ragnar said, his voice steady. "And you, Aevon. I am proud of both of you."
...
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The camp around them buzzed with activity. Warriors sparred in preparation for future skirmishes, their movements precise and fierce. Women tended to the chores, weaving together the fabric of daily life with skill and grace. Children played nearby, their laughter a bright melody against the steady rhythm of the camp.
As the sun climbed higher, Haehra and Ragnar walked through the camp, their hands intertwined. They spoke of many things: the challenges of leadership, the bonds of family, and the lessons learned from the past. Ragnar's presence was a balm to Haehra, his steady confidence a reminder that they had carved out a life of purpose and meaning here among the Dothraki.
In the afternoon, Haehra sat with Aevon near the edge of the camp. Helhiem rested nearby, her massive body casting a protective shadow over them. Aevon leaned against his mother, his young face thoughtful. "Mother, do you think we'll have to go back to Westeros?"
Haehra considered her answer, the weight of her response heavy with implications. "For now, we're here, safe among our family. But the world is a big place, Aevon. We'll go where we're needed, where we can make a difference."
He nodded, a hint of determination in his eyes. "I want to be ready, like you and Father."
Haehra smiled, ruffling his hair. "And you will be. You have the heart of a dragon, Aevon."
As the day gave way to evening, the camp settled into a peaceful rhythm. The sky turned a brilliant orange, the sun's descent painting the horizon in vibrant hues. Haehra and Ragnar sat together outside their tent, watching as the stars began to appear.
The night was calm, the air filled with the sounds of crackling fires and distant conversations. Ragnar took Haehra's hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "Anha zhilak yera," he promised, his voice steady.
(I love you)
Haehra nodded before giving me a soft gentle kiss, knowing the truth of his words deep within her. With Ragnar and Aevon by her side, she knew they could overcome any challenge. Their family was strong, bound by love and loyalty, and that was a force greater than any political machination or power struggle.
As they sat together under the starlit sky, Haehra felt a profound sense of peace. This was her life, her family, and her home. Here, amidst the rolling plains and the fierce, proud people of the Dothraki, she found a sanctuary where love thrived, and the spirit soared like Helhiem in the open sky.
The future was uncertain, but with Ragnar and Aevon, she knew they would face it together, as a family, and that was all that mattered.
...
PLEASE I BEG YOU DONT BE GHOST READERS, I GET 99% OF MY MOTIVATION FROM READING COMMENTS AND SEEING PEOPLE ENJOYING MY BOOKS.
All credits to George R.R Martin and HBO for HOUSE OF THE DRAGON plot line + characters
