Voices of Dragons in Elder Days
Nina was reflecting, while being saturated with the knowledge of the fable’s lore. Fall in their hands, be in their grace, under them, but never theirs. God Elf, from a mere slave, Clown against tricksters and jesters akin to him. Barbarian of Conan roots, the High Knight, then the Prince Holy and Great, and now the Grand King Regent who helped in rebuilding by abundant resources or might, or manpower all where he could reach, even Winterfell of his after Dagor Dagorath and Battle of Gods, after which only more is coming. Baby’s cries are pervading the void halls. The new souls are born. All Elven horses that are ridden are in bells adorned, ornamented in lushness and styled in the flaming sheathing.
Amid all, Lady Commander of Queen’s Guard who with her human lives in the loftier heights of Dragon Keep among cushiony clouds, the formless mist and girding mountain hills, has also made it with what humans desire the most, power, and so shall she succeed with her Elf. There are Green Men of Order who ride Elks, they taught the First Men of Dunedain, in Gondor, within White Walls of Minas Tirith capital to forge greatswords that are high with iron. The cognition is saved in Wildlings, hearing the call, Aragorn sired Ramsay who could not end up differently, the mother died when he was young and only father raised him, the one who was seized back from wilds by Rickard Stark when he lost all to the harsh winter. Fulfilling duties, he is blessed to enjoy with his Queen Dowager of Starks, the Wolves. The same one Elf Wolf King was.
Gaining a human heart while Jon shared his Dragon with Lion King. The only born Elf, being human more than them, it was an omen to be born with the ears like in humans. For even him, couldn’t slow down or impede the happenings of Masquerade Ball, one and only after whom even Wall of Ice was named. Aegon Targaryen, the one who was the Stark as well. Not any longer the Conqueror or Mad King, or the King who was just a boy. She was just one of many, will she so, go to a watery grave, to Davy Jones’s locker as well? Who knows, she is to wait. What Rhaenys has presented her was the fancy bathtub, that was delicately baroque and prettified, the polished laminas were fluorescing the beauty of the charismatic charms and delighting, the scented scones and flowers were bestrewn, each space wasn’t squandered and the total appeal was something to appeal to.
- Is it hot? – It is as you like it – Rhaenys was dying for her, but she is holding herself back, she has to, but still, she goes and kisses Nina’s soft neck, leaning on, while Nina couldn’t and not to understand, to lean back.
- Tell me, is it always to be like this, albeit I may choose my will?
- It is avowed as such.
- Hence, the Gods shall be glad?
- Or, just one of them, the one we are praying to – both women were undressed. Rhaenys did it by herself, her and Nina, unhurriedly and cautiously, taking her time, wallowing in each patch of the slivered skin that was referencing of the battle her beloved baby girl was fighting, no more. She may perfect herself, better herself, improve, but no more advancing battles, for they are forthcoming in their infinitude. It is the limitless sturdiness she is exhibiting, but it was no longer something she may burnish and why would she?
- You have the right to live your own life. Nina, to choose how and with whom. And you chose it with me. – I hear you, Rhaenys, but don’t you think, it is early? – For what? – Your fondling upon me. – Ah, I am like a serpent, I want to slither myself around you, to have you close. – I am smelling ugly. – So do I – with bright smiles, they are submerging themselves, locked together, and in a finalizing manner, the water was modulating its heat, its cooling degrees, it flowered and buoyed up, with the mysteries which were bedecking and dotting, till all what was left is the lucent coruscating, and Nina was free to glory herself into it, ah, she could sense it, it was the slow prick, it was inside her, she opens her eyes widely, it was Rhaenys, oh, what oddness. It was mystifying.
The unfamiliar affinity to readiness, the aptness of the bent tendencies, she could see what Rhaenys is viewing so, she was speaking to her, all the while, the galling bile was being mixed into the cut cloth, ah, it was hurting at first, oh, yes, that was it, all what she heard about, the men and women of their kind who may both pollinate by their latent organs and to grow even wombs, by doing the enzyme’s work on the biological hormones, something which Men feared the most, she is marked with the blemishing hickey, it was the imprint, the complementing imprinting, she couldn’t ward it off, she is taken, she is claimed, she is marked, it was healing, only the faintness to stay, ah, God, it hurts, such a pleasure, ah, ah, push, push, even in the aqua cages, the Adam’s ales, she was being so pleased, beyond recognition, it was gratifying her, satisfying, appeasing, ah, ah, again and again, it was in her organs, the full mark as it was foretold, and the scenting perfume in her blood, into the belly’s bowels, in the bones, in the blood vessels, into the every cell that was coursing, surging throughout, to ride it on.
She was in the goodness bedded. Delicacies and fancies if she grows hungry are on each turn. God, so good, so good, more and more, do not withhold it. Do not refuse to give. Yes, yes, oh, yes. The intercourse with the woman, copulating was out of any world, she was being cleaved in the middle, she couldn’t take it any longer, and she had to even immortalize her, Nina didn’t expect it, she was bled under her throttle.
She gasped and she died, only to be the one who is rebirthing, opening herself to the awakened reality. She heard those things, but never in the hundred years she would be effective to get it in the full circle, and why it was like this? It was something much denser, it was bushier, hardier. The waters were red, green and blue. The metamorphosis was complete. The faint scar is to be left as a remainder. She isn’t scarred or blemished, it is suchlike a seductive desirability, both women are wound up around one another. Bundled to live to ends of stars.
- What was that? – she got jostled? – from outdoors, the screaming Winter God was bemoaning its doom, Arda is to be inseminated, she dispelled hard, to keep her chastity, but Prometheus was one frightful-looking, unlovely rapist who was forcing himself onto her, annihilating life, effacing and defacing, the quakes were thundering our planet, everything was shaken, it was cloven and cleft, torn asunder, but the Hill House stood proud. The white winds may blow as much as they like, but the mountain shall never bend to its force. And never was. The hiding lights were dancing, and Nina feels the congenial fear, pristine and clear. Even when she was in her Dragon Lady’s arms, who whispers to her. – No fear, he fights for us, Arda is by now emending, it shall be as it was.
- By whom? – The one by which you desired your glory – it was springing to Nina, as it was the icefall that was threatening to wipe out all what is left of the life. – God Elf fights for us?
- Yes, he does, and you know what more? By your immortalization, you gave him what he needs, what he requested from each of us, it was sent in a telepathy form of messages, by the white ravens. It was the focal vivacity, and it is time for me to join others, to support him with our robustness, you have what to dress, choose dainties and stay here, it is unwisely to go up or see through anything. Listen to me and our Dragon, Mera of Meraxes, she is having your back till my return – she kisses her smooth forehead, going out, dressing herself up as she was before, dried and clean by supplemental magic.
Winking at her, she will be back. Nina is left alone, and as soon as her Mistress is gone, all she could feel is that she misses her so.
And in what to gown self, she is wiping herself by a terrycloth towel, spotting what she liked and what she is going to put on bare feet also.
Her earlier clothes and shoes were worn off, and she took another pair of sleeked sandals and the purple shimmer dress, just the way she adulated.
When unexpectedly, up above her, as vowed, whiles Winter God is repelling Winter is coming, Meraxes knocked through the domed glass, she was under the sheathed cover of the glassed tower, and beneath is Nina and her Mistress who is still deflecting and backing at the same time with their sorcery and powers, until the shadows didn’t fall upon the Hill House and Nina was enlightened by the appearance of Gentle Violet whom she let in by the press of one lever, which she knew somehow that she must press, and Dragon as a snake has furled into a regaled bathroom, rolling up around her little form, recoiling her to be nested together with the Dragon’s hide which was fuzzy upon touch, she nestles self in touches.
It was mollifying her. Silencing her trepidations, placating what she felt and what she curbed inside herself. Reining that something beyond themselves is taking place. And when she just thinks that she believed that she is above all else in this world, for what is the glory, when the gloried is their life with the runes of force, the signets of the strengths, the insignias of crested forcefulness that is sustaining what is not to be falling. It was the fertilizing win upon Death. The stoutness in vigor. The hope in the shadiness. Into the monoliths of the Mirrormere, the Dwarven lake which had envisioned the world that is not grey and that mountains are ever young and green, and there would be no desire and no light in suchlike tombs which are the empty promises of Moria, of Khazad Dum, for the King under a Mountain knew very well, that the world shall be fair and bright when one who brightens, who rises as the Second Sun, replaces God.
*
- I hear Lonely Mountain in my head. What does it mean? – Dwarves are singing to their Mountain and in return, they answer back what they want to know. – For how much long? – We wait.