The sand was black and coarse beneath their feet, still warm from the sun despite the hour. The brothers reached the shoreline breathless, weapons in hand, only to find distance already working against them. The ships had pushed off faster than Nicholas expected. Long hulls cut through the water, oars beating in practised rhythm. Sails caught the wind, dark cloth snapping as they filled.
There were more of them than he had thought. Not dozens. Hundreds.
Men crowded the decks, some armed and armoured, others naked, their earlier panic dulled by safety and distance. Some leaned over the rails, laughing now. Others pointed back toward the shore, shouting things the wind carried away before they could land.
Naeth took several steps forward into the surf before Casper caught his arm.
"They are too far," Casper said, though his voice shook. "We cannot reach them."
Naeth ripped his arm free. "They took her," he shouted. "They took Saera."
Nicholas stood still, blade lowered, blood drying stiff across his clothes. His breathing had slowed. His pulse was steady. He watched the ships, not the men.
On the largest vessel, near the stern, movement drew his eye. A figure struggled against the grip of two slavers. Pale hair flashed in the sun like polished metal.
"Nicholas," a voice screamed.
The sound hit him harder than steel.
She was bound at the wrists, her dress torn at the shoulder, dirt streaked across her skin. Platinum hair spilt down her back, unmistakable even at a distance. Her eyes locked onto the shore, onto him, wide with terror and hope tangled together.
"Nicholas," she shouted again.
Naeth surged forward with a sound between a cry and a roar. "SAERA."
A slaver backhanded her without hesitation. The crack of the blow carried across the water. Saera fell hard against the deck, her cry cut short. The man loomed over her, shouting something back toward the shore, his face twisted with rage and triumph.
Naeth screamed and tried to charge again. Mealer and one of the church boys grabbed him, forcing him back as he fought them with wild strength.
"I will kill them," Naeth shouted. "I swear it. I will kill every one of them."
Nicholas did not move.
His face remained the same calm, stone-cold look he had when he slaughtered those same men earlier.
The ships continued to pull away, shrinking slowly against the horizon. Laughter drifted back, thin and distant. The wind shifted, carrying with it the smell of salt and pitch and smoke from the burning village behind them.
Casper looked at Nicholas, searching his brother's face for something. Anger. Command. Anything.
"What do we do?" Casper asked.
Nicholas sheathed his blade into his clothes
The sound was final.
"We return," he said.
Naeth rounded on him. "Return?" he roared. "They have her!"
Nicholas turned his head then, just enough to look at his supposed brother. His eyes were calm. Too calm.
"They are gone," he said. "Running into the sea will not bring her back."
Naeth's fists clenched. His breathing came in ragged bursts. He looked toward the ships again, then at the sand, then finally at Nicholas.
Nicholas turned and began walking back toward the village, ignoring the burning like eyes emanating from his younger brother.
For several seconds, no one followed.
Then Casper went after him. Mealer followed. The two boys from the church exchanged a glance and went as well. Naeth remained at the water's edge, staring until the ships became dark smudges against the sky. When he finally turned, his eyes were red and wet, his jaw set hard. He followed without speaking.
They returned to ruin.
Smoke still rose from the remains of homes, drifting low across the streets. Fires crackled where no one had yet found water or the strength to put them out. Bodies lay where they had fallen, some already covered with cloaks or blankets, others left where they were, eyes open and unseeing.
The villagers moved among the dead in silence.
There was no wailing now. No screaming. Grief had settled into something heavier. Women knelt beside bodies, washing blood from faces with water carried in cracked bowls. Children were led away by the hand, their eyes fixed on the ground. Old men leaned on spears or sticks, watching without speaking.
Nicholas walked through it all, the others trailing behind him.
No one stopped him. No one questioned the blood that coated him. Some stared. Others bowed their heads as he passed, though whether in respect or fear was unclear.
At the centre of the village, a wide pit had already begun to be dug. Bodies were laid carefully within it. Those who were known were placed together. Those who were not were stripped of weapons and clothing before being added to a separate pile.
Casper knelt to help lift a fallen woman. Mealer joined him without being asked. The two boys from the church hesitated only a moment before doing the same.
Naeth stood apart, arms crossed, staring at the ground.
Nicholas stopped near the pit and looked down.
He looked at the pile of bodies and didn't feel a thing. 'Was he supposed to?' He didn't know.
"Brother", a voice called out as Nicholas turned.
Standing near was Casper
"What do you want us to do?"
The question, although short, was infinitely complex, as some people who had been hidden within the church and seen Nicholas fight also wanted to know.
"We bury the dead and prepare," Nicholas spoke, his voice tired yet ready.
He hadn't been in the body for less than two hours, and he had already killed nearly fifty men. His view of the world, already stunned after his first death didnt help his mind either.
Casper simply nodded as he turned and returned to helping the dead. Nicholas, however, began walking away from the village.
His body, drenched with blood, needed to be washed, even though his mind was in turmoil, he still remembered that if a dirty body doesn't get cleaned, than its asking for visitors.
He walked for what felt like hours as the day grew from his once empty sky to a dark yet still empty black hole.
Nicholas walked over hill after hill before he heard the sound of running water and found a pool with steam emanating from it.
'A steam bath' The words found their way within his clouded mind as he removed his clothes.
His feet met the warm rocks as he delved into it. His body was white with the blood as a contrast, fully submerged.
He felt the heat rapidly soar as his skin began to peel. The pain caused him to surface.
What he didn't expect was to see a massive, lizard-like eye to meet him at the surface.
The eye, larger than his head, looked at the naked and half-submerged Nicholas like cattle. The beast moved its scaly neck as it let out a small puff of smoke.
"Dragon..." Nicholas, shocked by the sheer size of the beast and the closeness of it to him, looked on in awe.
That was until the beast reared its long neck, scales moving seemlessly over one another as it pointed its maw at Nicholas.
"Shit!" Nicholas dove just before the feeling of fire washed over his back. The temperature of the water rose rapidly as the black and yellow mixed fire mixed with the water, and barrels worth of water instantly evaporated.
Nicholas, under the water, screamed as the feeling of flame licking his back overwhelmed him.
Then came silence as the fire-breathing lizard halted its assault. It inspected the pool, waiting for anysigns of the insect-like thing it had just burned.
Seeing nothing, the beast turned as its wings flapped, and it arched within the sky as it flew upwards.
Nicholas soared above the water as he felt his back scream from the pain of the burns. Nicholas watched as the dragon faded into the dark sky towards a mountain.
"Holy Shit," He spoke in shock at what he had just firstly survived and secondly witnessed.
'I'm in a game of thrones!' This single thought rapidly shot through Nicholas head, he began rapidly piecing everyhting togather.
From his platnium like hair to the villagers to the easily identifiable dragon, which just tried to roast him alive.
Everything came together as he began thinking about where he possibly could be.
That was until a subtle rumbling in the ground caused him to look above, the sight caused him a mini heart attack.
Within the black night sky, hundreds of figures from tiny to large constantly moved and circled one another as they all moved towards the mountain just a few miles away.
Nicholas watched as some breathed fire of gold and blue, while others breathed normal red and orange. The sight had him mesmerised as the dragons flocked to the mountain.
"I'm in Valyira" This simple line completely changed Nicholas perception as the night sky enveloped the peninsula.
(AN: BTW Naeth is the boy from the previous chapter.)