Chapter Text
It should have been just another day...
The hum of traffic and people talking buzzed in the background, and the bright afternoon sun filled the sky as he made his way down an unfamiliar side street with the beach and ocean on his right. Emrys turned and faced the beach, letting the ocean breeze tug at his honey brown hair. The sun warmed his slightly tanned skin as he closed his eyes and focused on the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against shore, it was calming, almost hypnotic. This vacation was exactly what he needed, a chance to unwind, to breathe before everything changed. The days had been filled with laughter, his friends, trying new foods and late-night conversations about the days they had experienced. He soaked in every moment, every bit of joy of touring Old Town in Westeros.
But underneath the calm feeling, a knot of anxiety coiled in his stomach. College was just around the corner, looming like a shadow over these bright and carefree days. He couldn't help but think about it, the thought of starting fresh, of meeting new people and navigating a new life, filled him with both anticipation and dread. His hazel eyes with green traces glanced back when he heard his friend Amir shout and everyone laughing. A smiled tugged on his face.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden hues over the water, Emrys took a deep breath, trying to savor the moment. This vacation was coming to end with only a couple days left before they flew back to the States and started preparing for college. For now, he pushed aside the worries, letting excitement in with more discoveries and experiences to be made. Emrys began to trail behind the tour group, half- listening as the guide droned on about Old Town's rich history. Amir and his other friend Steven were up ahead, laughing about something he couldn't quite hear. The cobblestone streets, the ancient buildings towering around them, it all felt surreal, like stepping into another world. The town had a quiet, almost eerie charm, the kind of place where time seemed to blur, where the past and present felt indistinguishable.
"Come on, man, catch up!" Amir called over his shoulder, grinning as he nudged Steven.
They had been friends for years, and even though the three of them were about to scatter to different colleges, they’d promised to stay close. This trip is supposed to be their last hurrah before Amir went to university with a football scholarship, planning to study physical therapy and become a coach himself. Steven is wanting to become the first doctor in his family while Emrys was planning to stick closer to home and study computer science with the focus of creating games.
Emrys quickened his pace, but something made him glance to his left. Tucked in a narrow alleyway, barely visible between two crumbling stone buildings, was a small tent. The fabric was deep purple, embroidered with gold stars, and a sign above it read: Fortunes Told: Discover Your Destiny.
"Hey guys! I wanna check this out, really quick," Emrys called out to Steven and Amir, who waved him off, too engrossed in their conversation to question where he was going.
Emrys stepped closer to the tent. As he approached, a figure emerged from the shadows...a woman, older than anyone he’d ever seen, her eyes a piercing shade of blue that seemed to look right through him. She smiled, a knowing look on her face.
“Curious, are we?” she asked, her voice raspy but strangely melodic with an accent sounding from the Italian region. “Come, sit. Let me take a look at you.”
Emrys hesitated but felt compelled to obey. He ducked inside the tent, taking a seat across from the woman at a small table draped with dark velvet. The air inside the tent was thick with the scent of incense, and the dim light cast strange shadows on the walls. The woman’s hands hovered over a deck of cards, but she didn’t reach for them. Instead, she stared at him, her eyes narrowing as if she could see into his very soul.
“You have an interesting aura,” she said softly. “So full of possibilities… but torn, as if you’re standing on the edge of something you don’t quite understand.”
Emrys swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t one to believe in psychic readings, but something about this woman unsettled him. She wasn’t like the fortune tellers he’d seen at the state fairs, putting on a show for tourists. There was a seriousness to her, an intensity that made his skin prickle.
“You’re about to step into a new world,” she continued, her voice low and almost hypnotic. “But it’s not the one you think. Your future lies in the past. Two people you will meet, bound to you in ways you can’t yet imagine.”
Emrys blinked, his heart racing. “What do you mean?” he rasped out, feeling a knot in his throat.
She smiled again, a cryptic smile that offered no answers. “The threads of time are tricky, my dear. But rest assured, you will be taken care of and loved. They have been waiting for you.”
Before Emrys could ask anything more, the woman waved her hand dismissively. “Go now. Your friends are waiting, and your journey has only just begun.”
Dazed, Emrys stumbled out of the tent, the words swirling in his mind. Your future lies in the past. Two people are waiting for you. He shook his head, trying to brush off the encounter as some strange tourist trap, but the weight of her words lingered, settling deep in his chest.
When he got out onto the main road, he saw his friends and the group stopped by street light. He jogged up to them and came up beside Amir who was looking at his phone while Steven turned to him.
"Hey, where'd you go?" Steven asked, clapping him on shoulder as Emrys rejoined them. Amir put his phone back in jeans as he looked at him as well.
"Just...saw a tent and it looked cool." Emrys mumbled, still distracted.
Amir chuckled. "Dude, you're acting weird. Did they try to steal from you or something?" He turned and saw the group starting to cross, "Come on, we're heading to the cathedral next." as he beckoned Emrys and Steven to follow.
Emrys forced a smile, but as he followed his friends down the narrow streets of Old Town, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. The excitement of the vacation dimmed, replaced by a strange, foreboding sense that whatever lay ahead wasn’t just college or the future he had imagined...it was something far beyond that. Something ancient, something inevitable.
“Hey, you okay?” Steven asked, nudging him with his elbow as they approached the cathedral. “Yeah,” he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction. He could tell Steven wasn’t convinced either, but his friend didn’t press the issue.
The cathedral loomed over the town like a silent sentinel, its towering spires reaching into the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. The stonework was weathered, darkened by centuries of wind and rain, yet still imposing, each block carved with intricate patterns that hinted at a time when the Faith of the Seven held immense power. Massive, arched windows lined the exterior, filled with stained glass that depicted scenes of gods and men, their colors muted by the thick dust of ages.
As the group moved into the cathedral, the high ceilings and stained-glass windows were breathtaking, but Emrys could barely focus, his thoughts drifting back to the tent and the psychic’s piercing blue eyes. Your future lies in the past. What did that even mean? And who were the two people she mentioned, waiting for him? He shook his head, trying to convince himself that it was all nonsense, just some old woman spinning tales for tourists.
Emrys stepped inside, the cool air hit him, carrying with it the scent of burning candles and old stone. The high ceilings stretched above him, disappearing into shadow, where thick beams of wood crisscrossed like the ribs of a long-dead giant. Massive chandeliers hung precariously from iron chains, their dim light barely enough to illuminate the cavernous space. Rows of stone columns lined the nave, each one carved with the likeness of saints and heroes from legends long forgotten. The walls were adorned with faded tapestries, their once-vibrant threads now dulled by time. The floors beneath his feet were cold and unforgiving, worn smooth by the countless pilgrims who had passed through these halls over the centuries.
At the far end of the cathedral, the altar stood elevated on a stone dais, bathed in the glow of flickering candlelight. Behind it, a massive depiction of the Seven—Father, Mother, Warrior, Maiden, Smith, Crone, and Stranger—loomed over the space, their faces stern and indifferent. The Seven seemed to watch him with eyes that saw beyond the present, their presence both comforting and unsettling, as if they held the weight of history in their gaze. Above the altar, the stained-glass windows depicted scenes of divine judgment, the last light of the sun filtering through them casting colored shadows across the stone floors. Emrys could almost hear the echoes of ancient prayers whispered by those who had come before him, seeking guidance or solace in the face of their own trials.
The air was thick with reverence, heavy with the unspoken power of the Faith. It was the kind of place that made you feel small, insignificant in the face of something much larger than yourself. As Emrys moved through the space, his footsteps echoing in the silence, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of history pressing down on him. This was a place where time seemed to blur, where the past and present converged, and where the mysteries of the world seemed just out of reach.
Steven and Amir stood near the front of the group, their expressions caught somewhere between interest and the kind of polite attention you gave when you were trying to be respectful. The tour guide, a middle-aged man with a graying beard and a voice that seemed to echo through the vast cathedral, was deep into the history of the place, weaving tales of kings and queens, battles fought in the name of the Seven, and the endless power struggles that had once gripped the region.
“This cathedral was constructed in the early days of the Faith’s spread throughout Westeros,” the guide said, his voice reverent as he gestured toward the towering ceiling. “It was meant to be a symbol of the gods’ might, a place where the faithful could gather and seek the guidance of the Seven. It has seen countless coronations, marriages, and even the funerals of great lords and ladies.”
Amir nodded along, his eyes taking in the details of the tapestries and carvings that lined the walls. He whispered something to Steven about the craftsmanship of the stone pillars, pointing to the intricate designs etched into the ancient rock. Steven, though less interested in the history, still listened attentively, his gaze occasionally drifting up to the stained-glass windows that bathed the stone floors in soft hues of blue and red.
“Imagine what it must’ve been like back then,” Amir murmured to Steven. “All those lords and ladies in their finest clothes, coming here to pray before a battle. It’s like stepping into another world.”
“Yeah,” Steven replied, though his eyes flicked toward Emrys for a moment, concern briefly crossing his face. Emrys had been quiet ever since he’d left that strange little tent, his mind clearly elsewhere. Steven made a mental note to check in with him later, but for now, he let it go, focusing back on the guide’s lecture.
“The Seven have always been central to the lives of the people here,” the guide continued, his voice rising slightly as he led the group further into the cathedral. “In times of war and peace, famine and prosperity, the Faith has provided a sense of continuity, a belief that no matter how much the world changes, the gods are always watching, always guiding.”
Emrys could hear the words, but they barely registered. But as he glanced over at Steven and Amir, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. This was supposed to be their adventure, their last big trip together before they all went their separate ways. He owed it to them to be present, to share in these moments. He took a deep breath and tried to refocus, catching bits of the tour guide’s explanation about the cathedral’s role in key historical events. The man’s voice droned on, detailing alliances forged and broken under the watchful eyes of the gods.
Steven leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure you are doing okay? You’ve been quiet.”
Emrys forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, just taking it all in.”
Steven didn’t look entirely convinced, but he gave Emrys a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning back to the guide’s lecture. Amir, meanwhile, was engrossed in a detailed description of an ancient battle that had taken place just outside the cathedral’s walls, his eyes lighting up with interest.
As the tour continued, Emrys did his best to listen, to be present in the moment with his friends. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting for him just beyond the horizon, something ancient, something powerful, something that would change everything.
“The battle that took place near this cathedral was one of the bloodiest in Westeros' history, a decisive clash during the Dance of the Dragons,” the tour guide explained, his voice lowering as though out of respect for the fallen. “It was here, just outside these very walls, that the armies of the Targaryens and the Hightowers met in a brutal fight for control of the Iron Throne. Both sides sought to claim the Seven Kingdoms, and the blood that was spilled stained the ground for years to come.” He paused, letting the weight of the moment sink in for the group. Emrys glanced outside, trying to imagine the peaceful, cobblestone streets filled with the chaos of war-armored knights clashing, dragons roaring overhead, and the cries of the wounded echoing through the air.
“The Hightowers, loyal to Aegon II Targaryen, marched to Oldtown to challenge Rhaenyra Targaryen’s forces,” the guide continued, gesturing toward a faded tapestry depicting a fierce battle scene. “The Targaryens were no strangers to civil war, but this battle marked a turning point. Dragons fought above, while men bled below, each side convinced that their cause was just.”
Amir and Stevem exchanged glances, captivated by the guide’s words. Emrys, still distracted by his encounter with the psychic, tried to focus on the story. The imagery was vivid...he could almost hear the clashing of swords, the screams of dying men, and the terrifying roar of dragons as they battled in the skies above.
“The Faith had tried to remain neutral,” the guide said, turning to face the group. “But neutrality is a difficult thing when the realm is at war. The Hightowers, with their deep ties to the Faith, sought to use it as a symbol of their right to rule. Meanwhile, the Targaryens, with their dragons, believed that fire and blood would decide the outcome.” He pointed to the towering stained-glass window behind the altar, which depicted a dragon curled around the Iron Throne, flames licking at its base. “It is said that during the battle, one of Rhaenyra’s dragons was struck down near this very spot. The beast’s death was so violent that its blood was said to have scorched the earth, leaving a blackened scar that can still be seen in the right light.”
Emrys’ breath caught. The past suddenly didn’t feel so distant. He could picture it all...the chaos, the fear, the desperate struggle for power. It was as if the echoes of that ancient battle still lingered in the air, carried on the wind through the old stones of the cathedral.
“The battle raged on for hours, and when it was over, the fields were littered with the dead,” the guide concluded, his voice solemn. “Neither side claimed a decisive victory that day, but it marked the beginning of the end for the Dance of the Dragons. The devastation wrought by the war lingered in the hearts of the people long after the final blow was struck.”
As the tour guide’s words faded into the vaulted ceiling of the cathedral, Emrys couldn’t shake the growing sense of connection he felt to this place—to the stories of the past, and the people who had lived them. The guide had mentioned the Targaryens and their dragons, and though the idea seemed distant and almost mythical, something about it felt strangely familiar.
He drifted away from the group for a moment, his eyes drawn to the stained-glass depiction of the dragon curled around the Iron Throne. He imagined the beast’s massive wings beating the air, its roar shaking the ground, and the fire that would burn entire armies to ash. But more than that, he imagined the people, the ones who rode these creatures into battle.
“The last of the dragons perished because of this war,” the guide continued, his voice taking on a mournful tone. “The devastation was so great that the once-mighty beasts, the symbols of Targaryen power, were driven to extinction. No dragon has been seen in the world since.”
Emrys felt a shiver run down his spine. The idea of dragons, these magnificent creatures, no longer existing because of a war fought by their riders felt tragic. Even the strongest beings couldn’t prevent the inevitable. The war had torn families apart, shattered alliances, and driven the dragons to extinction. As Emrys stood there, the cathedral’s ancient stones seemed to hum with the echoes of the past. The weight of the history surrounding him pressed down on his chest, and the psychic’s prophecy now felt like more than just words. Your future lies in the past.
He looked back at his friends, who were still listening intently to the guide. For them, this was just another story, ancient history to be marveled at, but ultimately distant and separate from their lives. But for Emrys, it felt like something more. The thought both excited and terrified him. The weight of destiny, of being part of something far greater than himself, pressed down on him. But as the psychic had said, there were two people waiting for him. And no matter how strange or impossible it seemed, Emrys knew he had to find out why.