Pyrrhic Flare

     She does relent to one thing, “A sacrifice it may be, yet it is but a small price to pay to have one’s dreams fulfilled.” Dany’s own dreams had been so grand that they had called to her an army greater than any her world had ever seen, before or since. She’d outdone even her illustrious ancestors, and that was saying something.

      “Fire cannot be tamed.” She states plainly. “To have chosen it as your element, however, you yourself must be quite the restless soul.” Or, perhaps the more accurate statement would be that the fire had chosen this stranger before her, and not the other way around. Burns have a habit of appearing whether we wish for them or not. “What name would you give me, pray tell?

Dreams fulfilled.

She twisted her hand, making the pre-command seal cross apparent. She was already confident this one knew she was a Master, really, she wouldn't still be talking to her if not.

"I hope the Grail has seen some light in the worthiness of my dream. Or, it simply knows I'm going to make a nuisance of the entire affair." Another smile crept onto her lips. She was in fact, somewhat eager to share her dream with this one, but let's not rush the pace. She glanced at the woman with the sunlight hair. 

"That is absolutely correct, dear. But I had little choice in the matter, I heard its cries and knew I could not leave it to its fate. My family you see, attempt to hold its chains tight." Fire mages, hah. They were despicable creatures blinded to true beauty by a thirst for power. "But, mages are a selfish race..." She let herself drift off wistfully. 

"Make new friends, but keep the old. One is Silver, the other is Gold." But she hadn't used that name for some years, tutoring her last pupil. What a scamp he'd been. The memory warmed her features. 

     Daenerys had learned both the hard way: she had tasted unimaginable thirst in the Red Waste, and was kept from the conquest of her homeland of Westeros by the Narrow Sea. Fire is much more her element: she’s been reborn in it, and it gave life to her children. Water?

     It seems that she always wants what she cannot have, and the sea has always reminded her of ill memories. “Nor is there a greater feat for a ruler to accomplish than to heed his subjects’ every need. The empire that once was here must have been truly great, indeed.”

      Before its fall.

Her soul was burning passion, and water was the inevitable dampener to her spirit's propagation.

"Ahh, do you think so? To be a bridge for your people." Rulers. She'd never entirely understood the allure. She had taken many students in her time, but only at the times she had desired them. She was far too busy ruling herself. "I could not sacrifice myself so."

But the fountain, it's indication had shifted her focus entirely.

"Well..." She raised her hand slightly, palm facing upwards. Her fingers started to roll, a small lick of flame dancing between them. "Fire would be beautiful, but I would hate to see it caged so." She paused. "But cloud..."

     Rome is full of them: either springing up from the ground or built into the buildings, there seem to be fountains of cool, crisp water everywhere to help the citizens escape the brutal heat. Daenerys herself cannot help but be fascinated by such an ingenious plan of design.

The cowled woman stepped beside the servant without another moment's hesitation, she traced a finger lightly along the fountain's edge.

A small ray of light broke through the curtain of clouds dangling in the sky, only to be followed by more as the large yellow circle rose and pierced through the layer preventing it from showing itself to the ground. The city bathed in warm rays and the darkness withered away, shadows scurrying to hide into the tiny, narrow streets between the large imposing buildings of Rome. A small figure cast their own shadow downward – small in comparison with the one created by the amphitheater they were standing on.

The Colosseum of Rome was a typical tourist spot of great popularity, but this early in the morning, it was shy and devoid of life. The streets were empty, save for the occasional fast-moving car, rushing to reach its destination. The figure gazed on from above, like a tourist enjoying the view. However, the heavy armor covering him from head to toe greatly disagreed with the possibility of him visiting for the sake of tourism. The knight was sitting on the ledge in a casual manner. If a passerby were to notice him, the first impression would be that he was simply enjoying the sun.

Light reflecting off the armor’s rough unpolished surface, it suddenly changed direction, the knight in shining armor standing up from his relaxed stance on the ground. He faced the sunlight and stood straight up, his hands raised at his sides, elbows at eye level, palms facing away from the body. An act of showing devotion to one’s beliefs, the armored figure kept that posture for a minute before kneeling down and scrambling into his pockets, searching for something.

But she wasn't entirely alone, she could taste it. That tingle on the wind, it's what had drawn her to this location. Orange eyes looked up from beneath her cowl, they were sat up there. They looked content enough, from down here, hadn't seemed to have noticed her yet. Or more likely, they were just neglecting to make it outwardly obvious. Not bad.

A few less than naturally occurring gusts of wind helped her scramble and leap up something other than the Colosseum's set path. She might have saved a few minutes? Entirely worthwhile. The warm and dusty stone felt pleasant beneath her feet.

As she reached the top, the figure had moved. He now stood facing the sun, hands held high into the air, motionless. A smile crept across her features as he posed. What manner of odd one have I found. But as soon as she thought it, he broke free of his statuesque position, and knelt down with some strange amber stone. Was he writing something? Ahh.