The morning air hung heavy with mist as Gadriel stepped onto the worn deck of the ship. His boots thudded softly against the damp planks, the faint scent of salt and tar filling the air. Below, Dust rested quietly in the cramped lower hold, her breathing steady and calm despite the ship's gentle sway.
Gadriel leaned against the railing, watching as the man — the same fisherman whose daughter he had healed — embraced his child one last time. She clung to him with small trembling hands, and Gadriel could hear her muffled sobs even from where he stood. The man whispered something to her, then turned away before she could see the tears on his face.
He walked toward the boat, eyes red, carrying only a small pack slung over his shoulder. Gadriel waited in silence until the man stepped aboard.
"Ready?" Gadriel asked quietly.
The man gave a slow nod, his voice rough. "Aye. Let's get it done."
The ropes were untied, the sail unfurled, and the boat began to move — slowly at first, then with purpose as the wind caught full in its canvas. The small village grew distant behind them, fading into a pale blur against the northern shore.
Gadriel stayed on deck only a short while before descending the narrow wooden stairs into the ship's lower deck. The light dimmed as he entered the cramped space — a few barrels, nets, and coils of rope were all that filled it. He slung his pack onto a small table and stretched the hammock that would serve as his bed.
Once settled, he reached into his satchel and pulled out his worn leather journal. The sound of the sea echoed softly through the wood as he began to write by the flickering light of an oil lamp.
This place Valyria seems to be a great and mysterious place. When I get there I hope to unmask some hidden knowledge of some sort lost to the ages. It could be as little as what they called their currency, at this point it doesn't matter I just thirst for knowledge and to get back to exploring the world.
Maybe when I'm there I could try to cure the stone men tho at that stage it may be to late. To be honest I'm getting tired of hiding my power. Back in Skyrim I could be who I was without having to hide my power but if I tried that here... magic and things of that sort seemed to be looked down upon here and makes people afraid because they do not understand it or at least that's what I have gathered during my time in this new world.
With a faint sigh, Gadriel closed his journal and set it aside. The creak of the hull, the rhythmic crash of the waves — it all blended into a soft lullaby. He eased himself into the hammock and let sleep take him, even though the sun had not yet set.
He awoke in darkness. The air below deck was cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of seaweed and wood. For a moment, he lay still, feeling oddly refreshed — the kind of rest that dulled all thought and worry. Then a dryness pricked at the back of his throat.
He sat up, swung his legs from the hammock, and stood. His body felt light, unburdened, but the thirst was sharp and unrelenting.
"Just water," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. But he already knew better.
Still, he tried. He crossed the dim hold and made his way to a barrel tucked in the corner — one of the few supplies the ship carried. He poured himself a mug of ale and drank deeply. The liquid cooled his throat for only a moment before the thirst returned, harsher now, scraping like sand down his throat.
He poured another. Then another. And another. But it did nothing.
Gadriel leaned over the barrel, gripping the rim tightly as the realization struck. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and weary. "Why now?"
There was no blood aboard the ship save for the man above deck, and Gadriel had no intention of harming him. He clenched his jaw, forcing the thirst down as best he could.
He ascended the steps, emerging into the faint moonlight. The man stood at the helm, steadying the tiller as the sea wind whipped through his hair.
Gadriel approached, his face unreadable. "I will be below deck for the rest of the journey," he said in a calm but serious tone. "Please do not come down unless it's for something necessary — food, drink, or anything you cannot avoid."
The man blinked in confusion but saw the gravity in Gadriel's expression and simply nodded. "Aye… as you say."
Without another word, Gadriel turned and descended once more into the dark. He lay down, closed his eyes, and let his body sink into the pull of deep, unnatural sleep.
The sea carried them onward for two weeks.
The winds were strong, but the journey otherwise uneventful. The man occasionally heard movement below deck — faint shifting, the slow, steady rhythm of breathing — but Gadriel never stirred for long. He ate little, spoke not at all.
And then, one morning, as the air grew warmer and the clouds thinned, Gadriel's eyes opened.
He stared up at the dark planks above him for a long moment before pushing himself upright. His muscles protested — stiff and tight from the long sleep — but his strength returned quickly.
He ascended to the deck, blinking into the harsh daylight. The man stood near the bow, and when he saw Gadriel, his eyes widened slightly.
"You're awake," he said.
"I am," Gadriel replied simply, stretching his shoulders.
The man pointed ahead. "There. Look."
Gadriel stepped forward and looked out over the waves. On the horizon, beneath the faint haze of morning mist, rose the jagged silhouette of a ruined city. Blackened towers jutted skyward like the bones of giants.
Valyria.
The ship drew closer by the hour, and soon the details became clearer — crumbling spires, half-sunken buildings, and the eerie stillness that clung to every shadow.
When the keel scraped against the shallows, Gadriel turned to the man and nodded. "This is where I part ways with you."
The man looked uneasy but said nothing as Gadriel descended to retrieve Dust. The horse stepped carefully down the ramp, her hooves clinking softly against the ancient stone.
"Thank you," Gadriel said, his voice calm and genuine. "You've done me a great service."
The man gave a slow nod, eyes flicking toward the ruins. "May the gods watch over you, stranger."
"Let's hope they're not watching too closely," Gadriel replied with the faintest of smiles.
He adjusted the reins, mounted Dust, and turned toward the vast and decaying expanse before him. The wind carried the faint scent of ash and salt — the breath of a world long dead.
And with that, Gadriel Dovahkiin rode into the ruins of Valyria.