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Chapter Text

Her room in Magister Illyrio's manse had never been home, and it will never be. It was not her home. Her home was a land she could not remember. A land that was stolen from her family before she was born. A land she could never return to. Her home was a house with a red door, a lemon tree close to her window. A door that was now closed forever.

She could never go home.

She did not possess a home.

Illyrio's manse was not her home and yet, now she wanted nothing more than to run back to the room given to her and, lock the door to lay alone beneath de silk sheets. To cower and hide beneath a place that would have been safe were she a child.

She wanted nothing more than to never leave. Dany would bear the uncertainty of never knowing when Illyrio would throw them out if only she could stay. If only she was not sold off.

Drogo is so rich, even his slaves wear golden collars; the words played in her mind again and again. She could not help it. She could not stop it. They put a golden collar around her neck and called her a Princess. But Drogo's slaves too wore golden collars. Was she a slave now?

I am; she admitted to herself. After all, Viserys was selling her to buy himself an army. But the Dothraki did not function that way, and she feared what would happen once her brother realized that.

Viserys was King of the Seven Kingdoms, yes. The rightful King. But he was so only in name and blood. He did not posses a throne, or a crown, nor armies and leal lords. He possessed nothing of value. Nothing, except her. Dany was the last valuable thing he had to sell. And now he had. He sold her off in exchange of a Dothraki army that could take back their home. He sold her to Khal Drogo, the Great Khal. Her brother was cruel, petty and hurt her most of the time, but she would rather wed him than Drogo. Drogo frightened her to her very core. She did not wish to marry him.

When they were back to Illyrio's manse, she excused herself saying she was tired. And she was. So very tired. Viserys and Illyrio allowed her to leave without a word. For that, she was grateful. Once the door of her room was closed behind her, she cried. She cried, and prayed to any god that could be listening so her brother changed his mind. Prayed that her brother would prefer to keep with the traditions of their ancestors and marry her himself. It was the only thing that could save her now.

Dany muffled her sobs against the soft pillow. She was alone in her room and the collar no longer decorated her neck, but she still felt the weight. Like it was still there.

It will always be there now, even if I cannot see it; she thought saddened. 

It was pure exhaustion that forced her to close her red, teary eyes.

That night she dreamt. She dreamt of an enormous shadow covering her, black and crimson. A dragon that stood in front of her, over her, with his maw open and fire shinning behind his long fangs. But she did not fear. The dragon bathed Dany in fire, cleansing her. The flames danced over her, around her. Orange, red and yellow, and among them a pale flame. Silver and amethyst, it spoke with the voice of a woman.

"Save yourself the sorrow" it said.

A sharp pain crossed her body, when she looked down, her thighs were covered in blood. She felt a fear and pain that could not possibly be hers, but it was. She had never been so frightened and in so much pain. The fire burned her tears away. Three rocks laid before her, colourful and scaled. She touched them, they were burning too.

"From the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai" another flame said, and Dany knew that voice, but cannot place it.

The flames began to float in the sky, so far away from her that they were now nothing but stars. But stars did not move with such swiftness in the night sky, and the flames did. They were a group, galloping through the sky like horses would a clear. Like a khalasar would.

Mushrooms grew from the rocks she laid on, as if they were fertile soil. Pale white, like milk, with speckles, and blood red-ribbed undersides. But it was blood, it was truly blood. It slipped down the mushrooms to the rocks, bathing them red. Like wine over a pale marble, it turned the rocks of a crimson colour. Crimson, like the dragon's scales. Crimson like the three-headed dragon of her house's sigil.

"Save yourself the sorrow" the voice repeated, far away now.

Blood still poured from that place between her legs, it pooled around her. It hurt, more tears slipped down her cheeks, but this time there was no fire to burn them. No fire to numb the pain. Dany screamed, but no sound came from her mouth.

Where was the dragon? Why was it not there with her? She needed more flames. She was hurt. Could he not see that?

"Only death can pay for life" a voice echoed, it came from the sky, from the flames.

The voice froze her to the bones.

And then, the dragon was back. She was not alone anymore. There he was, in front of her again. She felt relief. His black and crimson scales covered in blood. Dany extended her hand without a single doubt and touched him. He was warm to the touch. When she retired her hand, it was covered in blood too. Sticky with it.

There was no more blood between her thighs, and the pool of it had been swallowed. That too, tinted the rock crimson red. Dany liked that colour.

She looked at her bare hands.

Her hands were bloody.

She feared they will always be covered in blood. Jut not her blood.

She felt less fear when she awoke the day after. As if the flames had gifted her some courage she did not possess before.

Doreah, one of Illyrio's slaves, was the one to wake her up. She had honey-blonde hair, eyes like the summer sky and a kind smile. She had to be nearly twenty name days old, having spent most of those years in a brothel in Lys. She was one of Illyrio's favourite slaves, and Viserys'. Dany knew her brother bedded the girl, and she had to be very good for he was exceptionally kind to her. He was not kind to Dany. Not since he sold their mother's crown. 

"Good morrow, Princess" Doreah greeted with a smile "Did you sleep well?"

Did she? She was not truly sure of it. Her dream had been odd. Good at times, yet like a nightmare during some moments. And hard to understand. Yet she did, she did understand. Those mushrooms, she had seen them in a book when she was a child. In the house with the red door, Ser Willem showed her a book of herbs and plants once. Those mushrooms were poisonous.

Was that what her dream was about? 

Did a part of her wish to poison someone?

Save yourself the sorrow.

The memory of those words send shivers down her spine.

"As well as expected" she answered softly.

Her fate was none of Doreah's fault.

She stood up from her bed, watching as Doreah filled the tub with hot water. Soon more slave girls entered Dany's room, all carrying buckets full of hot water. When the tub was full, the girls helped Dany out of her nightgown.

"Be careful, Princess, the water is hot" Doreah.

She did not mind. She enjoyed scalding hot baths, it made her feel clean. And now she needed to feel clean. Now more than ever before. Dany sighed contently when her skin came in contact with the burning water. It made her feel better. She submerged her head in the water, surrounding herself with silence for a few seconds. And for a moment, under the water, she did not have to worry about anything. She had no future wedding, no future husband, no future pain. There was only her holding her breath. But like all good things in her life, it was over swiftly. She had to return for air.

When she emerged, they were all looking at her. Doreah was the only one who's face showed concern.

"Please, leave me be" she asked the slaves "Just for a moment. I wish to be on my own"

They did leave, they allowed her some time alone. Dany mourned the fact that the water was not half as hot as the dragon's flame in her dream.

Save yourself the sorrow.

Dany sighed, what did that mean? What sorrow? The ones she had lived or the ones she will live? Both? No, if she could save herself the sorrow it must be something that was yet to occur. Was she dreading her future so very much so that her dreams reflected it? 

And how was she supposed to save herself the sorrow, by poisoning her future husband? Could she do something like that? No. No, she could not. And it was merely a silly dream, with dragons and dragon eggs, not real in any way.

Once Dany was cleaned and dried, she was helped into a silk gown by Doreah. The lyseni girl was the one who would usually brush her hair and twist it into valyrian hairstyles. Lyseni people valued the valyrian blood over everything, and she had the blood of the dragon. She was the blood of the dragon. And dragons did not fear. She hoped her valyrian braids could give her courage. She looked at her reflection on the looking glass, sometimes she wondered if she looked like her mother. Like Queen Naerys or Queen Rhaenyra, like Queen Rhaenys or Queen Visenya. Which one did she resembled the most? 

Dany had the typical Targaryen traits, the silver hair and violet eyes. The physical appearance of those of the blood of the dragon. Of women who had suffered the same fates she was about to suffer. Would have they stopped it if they could? Would she? Could she? 

"Doreah, you grew up in a brothel, I hear" she looked at the older girl through the looking glass, somehow shyly "Illyrio said so. I heard him"

"I did" the girl nodded as she twisted Dany's hair into various braids "Do you wish to know something of it?"

"I heard once, in the market, that some prostitutes poison their clients" she hoped that was not too direct.

If Doreah suspected something about her intentions...well, Dany herself was not sure what her intentions were.

"Some do. I did not. But it is a hard thing to do, Princess, and does not happen often"

"What poison do they use? Tears of Lys?"

She heard of that one in the market, it was quick to act and impossible to detect. If she could get her hands on one like that, would she make use of it?

Doreah giggled as if her question was some kind of jest.

"No, no. That poison is far too expensive. They use others. I do not know their names, but I do know it is not something easy to find"

Dany sighed, of course it was not. How could she find a poison then? She should have known it was just a silly dream fruit of her imagination, not something that could come to pass. 

It is best this way; Dany thought relived, yet sad and fearful as well. She could not poison anyone, let alone someone who was meant to be her husband. It was not who she was. She was weak, the blood of the dragon run thin in her veins.

When Doreah finished with her hair, Dany decided to take a walk through the gardens of Illyrio's manse. She would not spend much more time there. She was to be wed to a Khal of the Dothraki. The Dothraki were nomadic people who never stayed in once place. They had only one city, Vaes Dothrak, but they did not live there. She would never have a home again. So Dany strolled through the gardens, admiring the beauty that she would not see anymore after her marriage.

Dany walked alone, there was no one around. The courtyard was decorated by a marble pool larger than Dany's room there. The pool possessed a statue of a young man, lithe and handsome, in its center. Dany thought the statue was very beautiful, the artist who crafted it, had much talent in her eyes. The marble was painted to show the blonde her of the young man, at shoulder-lenght. He was poised for a duel, with a bravosi blade in hand. According to Magister Illyrio, the statue was of him when he was younger. He told her and Viserys that he used to be a sell-sword in his youth. Her brother did not believe it, but Dany had seen something akin to melancholy in Illyrio's eyes when he spoke of those times. The pool was surrounded by six beautiful cherry trees, and behind them spread the gardens behind the manse, even more extensive.

Dany took a deep breath, would she ever return to those gardens?

I will not. My husband will not allow it. Even if we ever do return to Pentos it will not be to this house; she thought sadly. Khal Drogo had his own manse in Pentos. If they were ever to return they would stay there. And what of her brother? Would she see him again? Viserys was to take the army Drogo would give him and conquer the Seven Kingdoms again. If he could. Of that she was not quite sure.

And if he did take back the Seven Kingdoms, would he left her behind in Essos? Would she have to live as a Dothraki for the rest of her life? She knew their customs dictated that if she outlived Drogo, she would have to join the widows of the Khals in Vaes Dothrak. She would become part of the dosh khaleen, and there she will live the rest of her days. 

The mere thought made her want to cry. It was not the life she wished for. But did that matter? No, it did not. What she wanted was of no consequence. Her dreams and hopes for the future, her wishes and wants, were of no consequence. She was only a girl, and as such, she was nothing but her brother's possession.

Save yourself the sorrow.

Dany shook her head. How could she? There was no way out of the marriage. Not unless her brother changed his mind, and even then they would be in danger would the Khal decide he was offended and wanted what was promised to him.

Her.

She would never escape the sorrow, she never could before. Daenerys Targaryen was born in sorrow, her mother died giving life to her. She was raised in sorrow when the red door closed before her eyes, when Viserys and her had to wander the streets and beg for the scraps some wealthy merchant would be willing to give them. 

Am I to die in sorrow as well?; she asked herself, fearing she knew the answer.

Dany shut her eyes, trying to force the tears back, trying to stop them from falling. She was not there to cry, but to enjoy the stroll. She had her room if what she wished to do was cry. She shook her head, wiping her tears with her clenched fists. She had to be strong. She was the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not weep.

With eyes still blurry, Dany saw a small circle of lilacs surrounded by a larger one of lavender. Circles upon circles of different flowers; bellflowers, forget-me-nots, daisies and others. It was a strange combination of flowers, of so many different colours. It was beautiful, the carefully planted and groomed circle of flowers. But something else caught her attention, something she had seen before. The mushrooms were there, growing from a cracked paving tile. Milk white and blood red, like in her dream.

Her breath stopped, or mayhaps it was her heart. She could not be sure.

The mushrooms from her dream. The poisonous mushrooms from her dream. She remembered so vividly, her dreams and the leather-bound book (soft as his old leather-like hands) that Ser Willem Darry showed her before growing truly too ill. Dany looked around nervously, but there was no one watching her. She was alone. She could take them. Yes, she could, but then what? Would she just poison Khal Drogo?

Save yourself the sorrow.

She heard the voice again, her eyes fixated on the mushrooms. They could be inoffensive, she could be wrong about the danger they posed. She could be remembering wrong. Taking a deep breath, Dany surrounded the mushrooms with her trembling hands and pulled them from the cracked tile. It was as if her body was acting on its own, driven by fear. The fear a man like Khal Drogo inspired on her.

She hid them between the skirts of her silk dress, and walked back to her room. No one was looking at her, no one cared. Then, why did it feel like a thousand eyes were watching her?

With a quick step, she entered her room and closed the door. Her hands were sweaty from nerves, she wiped them on the skirt of her dress after putting the mushrooms over a table.

What was she to do now? What had she done? What would happen when Illyrio noticed the mushrooms were gone?

She struggled for some air, breathing was becoming increasingly hard.

I must hide them; she told herself. Indeed she should, but where?; Am I to do this, truly?

Save yourself the sorrow.

Yes, she was.

Dany opened a drawer where she kept the few jewellery she did have. A couple of necklaces gifted to her by Magister Illyrio and other people and a silver bracelet. A gift of Illyrio, who said it matched her hair. That was it, Dany realized, the bracelet. It covered her whole wrist, and it had a big shiny stone encrusted in the middle. Dany pulled with all her might, and the stone was separated from the silver. Behind it left a small hole, but it was too small, not even one mushroom would fit.

Unless...

Quicky, she grabbed a mushroom and squeezed it in her hands. She tore the mushroom into pieces with her hands. When the pieces were smaller than her little finger, she tried to put them in the bracelet. Not even half of it fit, but she was able to fit some and put the stone back where it was. Sweat ran down her forehead from the effort and the nerves, from fear. She hid the rest of the mushrooms and put the bracelet back on the drawer. There was a rather large possibility that those pieces were not enough to kill Drogo, but maybe it could weaken him.

She told herself that was all she needed, for him to be weak and less frightening. She did not wish him dead, she only wished to save herself the sorrow.

The day of her wedding, Dany swore she could hear her heart beating. Swiftly and without a rest. She could hear it during the whole ceremony, it was the only thing she could hear.

Her wedding with Khal Drogo took place under the open sky, for the Dothraki believed that everything important in a man's life occured beneath the open sky. They were wed before thousands of Dothraki warriors, all members of Drogo's khalasar. None truly looked at Dany, not even her husband, but still she felt as if all eyes were on her. As if the stone of her bracelet fell and everyone could see the pieces of toxic mushroom. What would happen then? She could always lie and say it was something to give her luck and fertility, but Dany was not a good liar.

She smoothed the skirts of her wedding gown, it was purple and very beautiful. She wished she was to wear it in better circumstances. Happier circumstances. Her brother and Illyrio sat behind her and her new husband, something that offended Viserys greatly, but Illyrio explained him it was just a Dothraki custom. The bride and groom sat at the front, tasted the food first, and did everything before any other guests. Even her brother, who was the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. A rightful King, yes, but only in name and blood. And that was worth nothing against the armies of the Usurper.

Viserys did not believe the same, he believed everything Illyrio told him. He believed the smallfolk was toasting in his name, and waiting for the day he returned to Westerosi soil. To her, nothing sounded more fake than that.

Her wedding lasted since the morning till the night fall, like most Dothraki weddings. Dany was introduced to Drogo's bloodriders, but sadly none of them spoke the common tongue. Neither did Drogo. She could not understand them, so she only smiled at them. A fake smile, just as Viserys told her.

"You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?" he asked after she cried before the ceremony.

That forced her to stop crying.

She shook her head and gave him an answer that pleased him. It was the truth, for she did not wish to wake the dragon. Viserys always hurt her when she did. Dany did not wish for him to hurt her again. So she was as he wanted her to, a smiling bride. Still, anyone who looked close enough could see her trembling hands and teary eyes. They could see the fear all over her face.

"Sister" Viserys said with a smirk when it was time to present her with the wedding gifts "Look, this are Irri and Jhiqui, they will be your handmaidens. Doreah will be one too, she will teach you the womanly arts of love. Irri will teach you to ride like these savages do and Jhiqui will teach to speak their crude language"

Dany smiled at the girls, who were her age or maybe a little older. Both Irri and Jhiqui had copper-colored skin, black hair and almond shaped eyes. But there was some important differences between the two. Jhiqui had wide hips and heavy breasts, being bigger boned than Irri. Her hair was slightly wavier and her eyes of a lighter brown. Irri was smaller, thinner and her face was somewhat sweeter than Jhiqui's who seemed solemn for her age. It would be good to have someone her age around her, even if only for a few moments.

Ser Jorah Mormont, a knight who had recently entered her brother's guard, was next. He handed her four books, all of different sizes, but with leather covers and yellowy pages. When she opened one, Dany saw they were written in the common tongue.

"Tales and stories from the Seven Kingdoms, Princess. It is less than you deserve, I know, but is all I can afford" the old knight said.

"It is a wonderful gift, thank you" she uttered with a real smile.

She did enjoy tales and books, she always had. They made her feel like a child again, even if she had not long ago been one it felt like an eternity ago to her. She was three and ten, she should be a child, not a bride. Her mother had her brother Rhaegar at that age. And many other women had as well, it was the norm in Westeros. And for the Dothraki too it seemed.

Next they gave her a bow, an arakh, and a whip. But those gifts were not truly for her, she was supposed to reject them and give them to her husband. So she did.

Illyrio was next, his slaves came carrying a heavy chest that was placed at her feet. They opened the chest, showing three enormous stoney eggs. Cream, green and black. Black with crimson swirls around the egg. Dragon eggs. Just like in her dream. The sight of the dragon eggs both amazed her and filled her with dread. Her dreams had turned real, there was no denying it now. Was she like Daenys? Was she a dragon dreamer?

Would she have to kill Drogo now? Would the pieces of mushroom even do the job?

She wished to cry and scream, but did not.

"Dragon eggs, Daenerys" he said, completely unaware of everything that was going through her head "From the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. Time has turned them into stone, but they are still beautiful"

"Thank you, Magister Illyrio" she replied with a shaky voice.

She extended her arm, placing a hand over the petrified egg. It was hot, almost burning. Like the dragon's scales in her dreams. Was this a sign? 

Dany watched the people around her, the Dothraki, feast and danced, and laughed and drank, and fought. They mated like animals, and killed one another over a woman they wished to lay with. Illyrio told her not to worry, that a Dothraki wedding with less than three deaths was considered a dull affair. She did not flinch when one of the man cut the other's neck with his arakh. She was pale, trembling and her hands were sweaty. She felt sick, but no one was looking at her. No one was looking at her.

Save yourself the sorrow.

Dany unglued the stone off her bracelet (it came out easily now) and poured the pieces of mushroom in Drogo's cup. It was full of a very red wine, Dornish Red. Her heart beat furiously, she swore she could feel the blood in running through her veins. She put the stone where she was and inhaled deeply. No one was looking at her.

"Khal Drogo!" Her brother's voice interrupted the celebrations, he was angered for something "When am I going to get my army?"

He was demanding, and the Khal misliked that. Drogo rose from his seat, towering over Viserys. She saw her brother flinch, but not back down.

"Jorah!" her brother barked and the old knight was right by his side in the blink of an eye "Translate"

"Your Grace, I do not think..." Illyrio started.

"Shut up! He has his bride now, I want my army. Tell these savage, that If I don't get what was promised to me I will take away what I sold to him"

What he sold.

Dany was no longer a person to him. Had she ever been? Not since they lost their mother's crown. And she would never be again, not with what she was about to do.

Khal Drogo acted so fast she could barely see it, he took his arakh and cut Viserys's neck. Her brother's blood splashed over her husband's face, and his body fell to the ground, a large chunk of flesh separated for his neck showed veins and blood that reminded her of some pig's meat sold at the market. Khal Drogo turned around, blood dripping from his face, and drank from his cup. 

Dany stared at the scene, frozen. Watching as her brother's blood bathed the earth. Tears stung in her eyes, but this time she did not try to stop them. 

Viserys was dead. Her brother was dead. The person who raised her. The person who hurt her. He was gone now. Despite all the pain he caused her, she could not avoid feeling sad for his death. She could not help but cry for him.

He's dead. I'm the last; she sobbed at the thought. The last of House Targaryen. 

And then, Dany felt angered. Angered at the loss of her brother, no matter how monstrous.

Dany raised her gaze, looking up to her husband with a rage she did not know she possessed. Khal Drogo met her gaze (black eyes that showed no emotion), and for once, he did not terrify her. Drogo walked towards her, but his eyes closed and he lost his balance. The Great Khal fell to the ground, and his bloodriders came to his aid, but it was for nothing. He was dead. Dead like her brother.

The bloodriders shouted in a language she didn't understand, in Dothraki. One of them, Mago, pointed at her. Jhaqo joined him, shouting at her. They knew she did it. They knew she poisoned him.

Save yourself the sorrow.

But had she? They were going to kill her now. Mayhaps death was a better fate than the one that awaited for her had she not killed Drogo.

Killed.

No, murdered.

She murdered someone. She was a murderess. That did not matter now, she recognized as Drogo's bloodriders grabbed her, she was going to die too. Jorah and Illyrio were trying to stop them.

Only death can pay for life.

The voice that chilled her to the bone seemed to whisper at her ear. Whose death? Hers?

"I did it!" She yelled, but they could not understand her "Ser Jorah, please, tell them I did it."

Ser Jorah said something in Dothraki, something that enraged the bloodriders. Mago's fist connected with her cheek, Dany's head fell to the side, her ears ringing and her vision blurry.

She heard shouting, but could not make out what they said. She could not understand anything.

"They believe you're a maegi, child" Jorah's voice said, or she thought it was him.

Illyrio did something, or so she believed, for she was back in his manse, in her room there. She was locked in there, alone. Dany had no way of knowing how long she was there, it felt like days, but it could not be more than a few hours. Laying on the bed in her wedding gown, drying her tears with the pillow. The left side of her face burned, hurt, in a way she had not been hurt ever before.

What would they do to her? They would not send her with the dosh khaleen, she killed her husband. What would they do? How would they kill her? How did they kill witches?

Briefly she considered eating one of the mushrooms, but before she could Illyrio and Jorah came to see her.

"The pyre is almost finished, Princess" Illyrio said somehow sadly.

Pyre?

"Will they burn me?" she asked, her voice smaller than she had intended.

"I fear so, child" Jorah shook his head "Why would you do something so foolish? Killing a Khal? Your husband?"

She shrugged "To save myself the sorrow"

Ser Jorah snorted "Well, now you will die. They will burn you, as they do with maegis if they can"

A maegi was a witch who practiced the dark arts, who layed with demons and was knowledgeable in blood magic. Dany's ancestors practiced blood magic, but she did not.

"We know you poisoned him" Illyrio played with the decorations of his beard "There are a certain kind of mushrooms that grow in my gardens, and they are missing. Of course, the Dothraki are a superstitious people, they believe you killed the Khal with your eyes only. That is why they allowed you to stay here until the pyre was built"

"Allowed? They are frightened of her"

"Not all" Illyrio pointed out. 

No, not all. If they all feared her, Mago would not have punched her in the face. She wished she could indeed frighten them, if so she could rid herself of the death sentence that now hanged over her head.

Only death can pay for life.

Her death, it seemed.

When night fell, they came for her. The Dothraki walked her to where the wedding had been celebrated, outside the walls of Pentos. She walked escorted by all of Drogo's bloodriders, while Mago and Jhago stood before the pyre. She walked amongst the forty thousand warriors Drogo used to have and their slaves, all of them making way for her. The pyre was large, as large as her rooms in Illyrio's manse. Drogo's body and his horse were put there in the centre. But it was not only that, her wedding gifts were in the pyre as well. The books, the weapons, the silks and Dothraki garbs, a grey filly she had not ridden and the dragon eggs. Dany took a deep breath, and allowed them to tie her to a post in the pyre. There was no escaping her fate. 

Mayhaps it had always been death. 

Or maybe, there was something waiting for her after.

They lit the pyre, the dry leaves caught fire immediately and the fire spread throughout the pyre and its contents. She saw the lifeless bodies of the horses burn, the silk disappear in the flames and Drogo's body burn. But when the fire touched her, she felt no pain. The flames danced around her, like the Dothraki women had during her wedding celebrations, yellow and orange and red. The ties that bind her to the post disappeared, as did her gown. The fire cleanse her, purified her. And then, she heard a crack, two cracks and three cracks. The pyre gave up, collapsing, and she fell to the ground with pieces of wood, ashes and leaves covering her body. 

When the morning came, the flames vanished with the body of Drogo and his horse turned into ashes. The filly and her gifts were ash as well. Dany sat on the remains of the pyre, a  small green dragon curled around her left shoulder, while a cream-colored one curled around her right. And in her arms, laid a larger black dragon.

Dany stood, the Dothraki who were still there knelt before her. And for the first time in centuries, the world heard dragons singing.

Chapter Text

Her husband was nothing more than ashes in the wind now. Her husband. How odd it sounded. She was a widow now. A widow. That sounded odder.

The black stopped singing and soon the cream and the green did as well. There was not many people left, but the Dothraki that stayed behind were kneeling on the ground. Dead bodies laid distributed close to the pyre, or what was left of it. Drogo's bloodriders. They killed Drogo's bloodriders. For her.

Irri, Jhiqui, Doreah, Jorah were still there. She signaled to the larger girl. The one that was supposed to teach her Dothraki.

Dany took a deep breath. 

"Please, translate" Jhiqui nodded shakily at her words. Good "Rise. Do not kneel before me"

When Jhiqui translated, they obeyed. They obeyed her. Her. A girl of three and ten. 

I am the widow of their Khal; she reminded herself; the widow and the murderess.

One of them, one that could not be much older than her. His arakh was bloody. He had killed one of the bloodriders or helped in it. Some of the corpses had arrows on them, and it was Aggo who shot them. Aggo had been one of Drogo's kos, and now he knelt before her. She, who had killed him. 

He said something in Dothraki, a harsh language she could not understand. 

"Blood of my blood" Jhiqui translated.

Dany swallowed, the black chirped. They wanted her to be their Khal. She had been a Khaleesi, for some hours. But that was different from being a Khal. A Khaleesi who led the khalasar instead of one who was just the wife of the Khal. She could not be that for them. She was not a leader. She was not...

A Queen; it was an horrifying realization; Viserys is dead. I am the rightful Queen now.

The last of her house. The last dragon. No. The green nuzzled her. She was not the last. There were dragons now. Three dragons. It was hard to get used to that. She brought the dragons back. It worked. Her death paid for their lives. If she did that, if she was able to do that mayhaps she could be a queen.

Someone has to be.

She looked around, to the dozens who stayed. The dozes who believed. They saw the eggs cracking and her not burning, and they stayed. Others ran. Others took the warriors and the slaves and made their own khalasar. But the dozens that stayed with her... She had to make it worth it.

"Jhaqo left with at least twenty thousand of Drogo's warriors and almost all of his slaves" Jorah tells her, keeping a prudent distance from the hissing dragons "He calls himself a Khal and Mago is one of his bloodriders. Only a few stayed behind"

The news of Mago and Jhaqo did not surprise her, they had been the first ones to wish her dead. The ones ordered her to be burn. What disappointing it must have been, when she did not. Dany looked around. This people, her people, needed a place to rest and eat. And so did she. 

"Bring me a horse" she instructed Jorah "We are returning to Pentos, to Drogo's manse"

"Is that wise, Khaleesi?" Jorah asked.

"A new Khal must present himself before the dosh khaleen" Irri pointed out, keeping her distance. They all did.

"I am no Khal" 

They could figure things out in the manse. She desperately needed a warm bath, her body was covered in ashes. Only then did she remembered she was naked. Strangely, she did not truly mind. The Dothrakies did not mind either. Irri brought her some clothes, from the dead men, they were too big for her but certainly better than riding naked. While she changed, the dragons remained by her side, refusing to let go of her. It was tricky to dress up with the three baby dragons, but she did it. Aggo brought her a brown stallion, he handed her the reins and the horse reared up neighing. Her dragons hissed at the animal, making him nervous. Dany hushed them, holding the reins tightly as the black one crawled up her back to find a place in the back of her neck by his brothers side. Eventually, the horse calmed and she could mount him.

Dothraki did not respond to a leader who could not ride, so Dany rode. She had no option but to. She directed her horse to the gates of Pentos, two dragons on her shoulders and the black one wrapped around her waits. Her small khalasar followed her. At least fifty Dothraki warriors and more women and children. Slaves followed her too. The few slaves left behind. It made her heart hurt, to have slaves. No. She will not have them. Once they were within the walls of Drogo's manse she will free them.

They left them inside Pentos without a fuss. Her dragons all but opened the gates to them. As they rode through the city, the people stared at her, at the dragons. They were silent, however, no hissing or chirping, no moving either. Dany would never forget the way the market fell silent when they passed by, only the sound of hooves of the horses against the ground could be hear. Everyone just stared, in awe or in fear. Or both. Dany just wished to arrived safely to the manse, for everyone to be safe.

Drogo's manse, hers now, was located beside the Bay of Pentos. It possessed nine towers and high brick walls, Unsullied soldiers guarded it. They allowed them in without a thought. It was big enough to house everyone and their horses, for they were not many. Her small khalasar, consisting on 167 people. And three baby dragons.

The slaves that had crossed the walls, were no longer slaves, but she had to tell them that. They weren't many, maybe fifty. They stood in the courtyard, all of them. Dany put herself on top of a step, if only to meet their height.

"Jorah, please translate" she asked kindly, he too kneeled before her "I will not have slaves in my khalasar. Everyone who follows me must do so in their own free will. You are slaves no longer"

She had not stuttered, and her voice did not break. She was surprising herself as of late.

"Khaleesi, I do not think—" the knight went to complain, but Jhiqui was was quicker.

They were not happy with her words, with her commands. Most of the Dothraki cursed and yelled in their language, but her dragons hissed, flaring their nostrils. It made everyone silent. Dany scratched their heads gratefully. They seemed to like that.

"If you do not agree with my words you are free to leave"

No one did. It took a weight off her shoulders and put some more at the same time. They wished to follow her, all of them. Dany straightened her back, trying to make herself look taller. The weight of the dragons comforted her in a way. She had to be strong. She was a dragon.

"You will be my khalasar" she announced loudly, Jorah and Jhiqui translated immediately "so this is your home too. Everything that is mine is yours as well"

She saw the doubting faces of the former slaves, full of fear and hope, the resolution in the faces of the Dothraki warriors and the gratefulness the women and children showed. It filled her with some odd feeling she could not place.

There were thirty bedchambers in the manse, so she split them evenly. Dany made sure to separate the men from the women, she was not going to allow any kind of abuse. It could make her loose followers, for men had their 'needs' or so they claimed.

So be it; she thought, resolute. She was the first Khaleesi who led the khalasar, she could make her own rules. She was a queen. A dragon.

Dany took residence in the main quarters, Drogo's quarters. Her dragons finally let go of her, but only when she placed them over the bed. She bit her lip, looking around. It smelled like pinchfire, lemon, and cinnamon. The whole manse did. She doubted that was Drogo's intention. Had been. He was dead now. Because of her. She killed him.

Dany sobbed loudly, if for Drogo ot Viserys, she could not tell. The black chirped at her, as if trying to console her. Dany smiled at her dragons. Hers. She had done that. She had brought them back. It had been her.

She sat by their side, allowing them to cuddle on her lap. A smile formed in her face. The green and cream fought over a place on her lap, but the black stayed where he was. He was as big as a cat, black with crimson swirls. He nuzzled Dany's hands, asking for petting as well. She giggled.

When the sun was setting, Irri, Doreah and Jhiqui brought her a copper tub and filled it with water. She took of her clothes and inmediatly went in. Allowing the maids to scrub her back and hair clean of ashes. There was not a scratch on her body, not even the bruise that should be in her cheek where she had been hit. The fire had healed her. Or mayhaps it was the magic. Whatever it was that brought the dragons back, it did something for her. To her. She did not know what, but it had been powerful.

Doreah brought her a purple silk gown, similar to the one she had wore during her first meeting with Drogo. Despite the shivers that sent down her spine at the memory, Dany wore it.

The former slaves had placed table after table in the inner courtyard of the manse. It was a wide space, with no ceiling. It seemed fitting to have her first dinner as a Khaleesi under the open sky. Dothraki believed important events had to take place under the open sky. Dany sat at the head of the table, Irri, Doreah and Jhiqui at her right per her request and her warriors at her left. Aggo, a tall and snub-nosed silent man, Rakharo, a tall and skinny young man, Jhogo, a boy who could not be much older than her, and Jorah the closest. She did not know all of her names, not yet.

Clearing her throat, Dany tapped her fork against her glass, drawing her khalasar's attention. 

"I made a decision" she armed herself with the courage she had. The courage she drew from her dragons, now away from her. No one could blame her for fearing to disappoint the people who followed her "I shall name all of you my bloodriders, all that can fight"

Jhiqui did not need to be told to translate, she did it immediately.

"That is not how Dothraki do things, Khaleesi" Ser Jorah said.

Dany looked around, the warriors seemed pleased. Jorah could think she was a foolish girl who did not know what she was doing. Traitorous as those thoughts were, they were understandable. But she was reducing the possibilities of being assassinated should anyone he displeased with her choices. For them it was an honour, for her it was safety.

"We will stay here for as long as it will take me to learn the ways of my new people and then we will journey to Vaes Dothrak"

To that the Dothraki toasted and Dany was finally able to sit and eat the fruit in front of her.

"What you are doing is unprecedented" Ser Jorah said "Princess I fear—"

"I am not a princess. My brother is dead" miraculously her voice did not break as she spoke "I am a Queen. I am a Khaleesi"

I have to be; she had to, but it was not something she particularly desired. Was it? What was what she desired beyond a home? She had never truly thought of it.

"Forgive me, Khaleesi" the man lowered his head.

"You are forgiven, good sir." He was a knight, knighted with the seven oils in the land that was her ancestors' home. She needed him by her side. She needed someone who could tell her of her home, of her family "I must ask something of you something, Ser Jorah"

"Anything" he answered quickly.

"I need you to teach me how to wield a sword"

Jorah seemed taken by surprise. Of course he was, Dany was a small, skinny little girl. Just a girl. Girls weren't warriors. But she had to be. She needed to be a warrior. Dothraki followed the strong. She had to be stronger. Viserys hadn't been strong. Viserys had never stood a chance against Drogo. Her brother hadn't known how to fight. He barely knew how to hold a sword properly. Dany wouldn't be the same. She could not allow herself to be. Relaying only in her dragons and warriors would be a mistake for her dragons were mere babes now. Fierce, yes, but she was not even sure they could spit fire. She had to be able to beat another Khal in battle if it was necessary.

"It'll be my honour"

She smiled at him with gratefulness.

"Jhogo, Rakharo" the two turned their heads from their food to look at her "Will you teach me to use an arakh and a whip?"

She needed to learn to fight like the Dothraki, not just like they did in the Seven Kingdoms. The Dothraki were now her people. She had to do her best to fit in with them. When Jhiqui translated, Jhogo nodded eagerly, but Rakharo did not seem very convinced when he agreed. Women did not fight. That was a thing of men. But there had been warrior women in her family, like Visenya the Conqueror. She could be another.

"May I learn as well?" Jhiqui's voice in the common tongue took her but surprise "To wield a whip. My father was good at it"

There was a sadness in her eyes when she spoke. Her father was dead. Dany felt for her.

"Of course you may. Rakharo will teach you" she smiled at the young Dothraki man who did not seem all that happy with her orders. Dany knew it would be hard to make changes, but not for that would she stop trying "How did your father died?"

"Killed by Khal Drogo. He was a Khal with no khalakka, only me"

Dany swallowed. Was that why Jhiqui seemed so trusting with her, because she killed the man who murdered her father? She could hardly blame her for it.

"Same happened to me" Irri joined the conversation, but her eyes were lost in the plate in front of her. Not truly looking to the food "I had a brother, but he was too young. Mago ripped him from my mother's arms and cut his throat"

Dany felt sick. A babe murdered, ripped from his mother's arms. Like her nephew, Rhaegar's son, Aegon. She willed herself not to cry. It was the way of the world, but she could change it. She would change it.

If I do not try, no one will; it was a sad thought, that one. 

Dany excused herself and returned to her room alone. Drogo's rooms. Hers now. They walked to her immediately, cuddling on and around her. She giggled as the golde one nuzzled her hand asking for more petting. 

"I will call you Viserion" she same caressing his small head. He chirped in agreement "After my brother. You will be everything he was not" the green one bumped her hand carefully wanting attention too "and you will be Rhaegal, after my valiant brother who died for the woman he loved"

The black one, the biggest one, flapped his wings and floated to the pillow. He was as big as a cat already.

"You will be Drogon and like my husband you will fill the heart of my enemies with fear"

And you will protect me.

Protect her like no one did.

Dany didn't bother to take her gown off, she fell asleep cuddling with her dragons.

Dany and her small khalasar stayed in Pentos for two moons and a fortnight. She learnt Dothraki from Jhiqui and how to ride like them from Irri. Just like she was supposed to, just like Viserys intended. Not that what he intended mattered anymore. Nothing that he had done mattered now that he was dead. So it did not matter that he had wished her to be the bride of a cruel and violent man. He had hurt her. So it did not matter.

It did not matter now.

Every morning she woke up with a sore body, bruises and scratches all over her. She trained every day for hours. Trained in the use of an arakh and a whip, and a bastard sword. Jorah said she did not need to be strong, she could never match a man in strength, but she was quick on her feet and a fast learner. She could not win a fight against a warrior, but she could defend herself from normal men fairly easily.

And every night she slept with her dragons and handmaidens. She missed Doreah, whom Illyrio took back with him when he thought her dead. Doreah used to braid her hair very nicely. She was sure she could combine the valyrian braids with the Dothraki ones. She wished the kind maiden was there with her. 

One afternoon, Dany was with Irri and Jhiqui in the lands of the manse. Jhiqui and her were trying to take down a cup with their whips, an exercise Rakharo thought would help. Jhiqui was better than her at it. Aggo was teaching Irri how to properly use the curved bows of her people. She had a good aim.

Behind her, laying on expensive cushions were her dragons. Rhaegal and Viserion were curled around one another enjoying the sunlight. Drogon however was chasing rats. They grew quickly, Rhaegal and Viserion were the size Drogon had been a moon ago and Drogon was like a medium sized dog. One that could fly and spit fire. Well, he had not done that yet. None had. Dany wondered if they grew that fast because of the amount of meat that was served to them. Cooked, of course.

Spoiled babes.

Dany wrapped her whip around her arm and walked to her dragons. Drogon caught a rat, a big one. His claws pierced the animal's body firmly. Drops of blood fell to the green grass of the lands belonging to her manse. He dropped it in front of her, expecting to have it cooked.

"Daor" she pronounced firmly.

Drogon hissed at her, for he was wild sometimes. Dany hissed back, he recoiled. She knew nothing of dragons, no one did, so she treated them like one would a cat. They were fairly similar, all things considered. 

"Dracarys" she pronounced slowly.

Drogon tilted his head, looking at her in confusion. Dany sighed and pointed at the dead rat.

"Dracarys"

Drogon blinked, his mouth opened, small flames escaping it. Drogon did it again, and again, until the burst of fire engulfed and cooked the rat. She smiled, squealing happily. Her enthusiasm caught the attention of her lazy boys, Rhaegal and Viserion, who copied their brother in an attempt to make her happy. Their flames were smaller, but Dany praised them nonetheless.

"What makes you so happy, Khaleesi?" Aggo, the quietest of all, asked her. He was watching Irri use the bow with surprising precision. 

"They can feed themselves now" she replied with a bright smile.

"Yes" he nodded turning his head to look at Drogon "In a year time Drogon will be big enough for you to ride"

Dany's smile turned nervous. The perspective of flying filled her with excitement, but she did not know if she would be able to do so. The last dragons her house had did not grow further than the size Drogon possessed now. But if he kept growing at that rate then Aggo was right. She could fly.

"I am looking forward to that moment"

"You'll show your strength then. A dragon is the strongest mount" 

And Dothraki valued strength over everything else. If she survived another year she could do so much. Dany fidgeted with the edges of her painted vest. She turned four and ten the yesterday, mayhaps she would live to see twenty name days. Yes. She would.

"Your Grace!" a familiar voice called. Walking to her was Illyrio Mopatis, with a red face and a sweaty forehead, breathing heavily "I finally found you"

Dany frowned "I have been here for over a moon"

"Of course, of course" Illyrio stopped at a prudent distance from where her dragons laid "But I thought you would be inside and when I came to see you..."

His expensive tunic silk was sweaty and the fragrances he used did not hide the smell. Still, he looked at Dany with an expression of barely contained disgust. She did not look like the little girl he so eagerly wished to sell. Gone were the silk gowns and the golden collars, the cowering and the fear all over her face. She dressed like a Dothraki now, painted vest over her bare chest, horsehair leggings and braid with a small bell hanging from it. Irri said she deserved it, for she defeated Drogo and death itself. None said otherwise.

"What is your business here?" she tried to be kind, but it was hard at times.

"Oh, Your Grace, I wish only to speak to you on behalf of the wealthy families of Pentos" Illyrio smiled "We wish to present to you, the Mother of Dragons, with gifts. Truth be told, the people are eager to see you and your dragons. To meet the girl who brought back the dragons—"

"Khaleesi" she corrected "Not a girl, a Khaleesi"

"Of course, of course" Illyrio showed his palms as if to placate her "the Khaleesi of the Dothraki. But speaking of what I said, will you host an audience for all who wish to see you?"

She did not wish to invite strangers into her home, but the gifts could be useful. And it was best to have a good relationship with those who controlled the city.

"I will, but I want a gift from you"

"Whatever you wish for. Name it and is yours"

"Doreah"

Illyrio looked at her as if she had spoken in some strange language, but he quickly smiled again.

"Of course. She will be delighted to hear that the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms wants her by her side"

"Good. You are free to leave"

Dany unwrapped the whip from her arm, took a few steps forward, and lashed out at the cup. She took it down.

"Well done, Khaleesi" she heard Rakharo say.

She was getting better and better each day.

Everyone heard of Dany's hosting audiences. And everyone wanted to attend. Everyone wanted to see her, to see her dragons. Of course they did. No one had seen dragons in centuries. But Dany brought them back. She did it. It was all her. With the help of her dreams. But it had been her, Daenerys Targaryen.

She prepared herself to receive all the wealthy merchants who wished to give her gifts. A red silk gown with a silver medallion belt. A mix of both worlds, so to speak. Irri braided her hair and attached a silver bell to it, like she did every day. It was different that day, however, for this people could not see any weaknesses in her. So she sat on a high chair, her feet did not touch the ground, with her back straightened and a serious expression. Jorah, Rakharo, Aggo and Jhogo were by her left and her right, two on each side. Irri and Jhiqui sat at the stairs with their backs to Dany. Rhaegal and Viserion had taken places on the armrests of the chair, while Drogo was on the back, like a small threatening shadow.

Illyrio was the first to arrive, with Doreah following him.

"Just as you requested, Your Grace" he bowed his head.

Doreah curtsied clumsily, it was probably the first time she did it. Dany allowed herself a small smile, if only to calm the older girl.

"Come, Doreah" she signaled to the stairs "Sit here"

The honey-haired girl obeyed, sitting by Jhiqui's side. Illyrio observed the scene with some kind of nervousness. Why? She could not tell.

"That is all that I have brought for you, My Queen" the merchant said apologetic.

Dany cringed when he referred to Doreah as an "it". She hated it. Waving her hand at Illyrio she forced a smile onto her face.

"It is alright. Who's next?" she truly did not wish to entertain that man any more than necessary.

Illyrio left following by an Unsullied soldier and a tall and lanky man with orange hair to his place. He dressed expensively, in silk and myrish lace of various bright colours. He smiled at her, a gold tooth making an appearance.

"Mother of Dragons" he bowed his head and back. 'Mother of Dragons' was what people took to call her. Dany supposed it was fitting while she scratched Rhaegal's head "I have been eagerly awaiting the moment you opened the gates of your manse to gift you this"

A slave stepped forward without meeting her gaze. He carried a small box, when he opened it Dany gasped. It was a crown, a delicate silver circlet with encrusted rubies. It was beautiful, truly the most beautiful piece of jewellery she had ever seen. It remind her of...

"Did you have it made for me?"

The man shook his head, his tyroshi accent was strong as he spoke "I acquired it mere weeks ago. It belonged to a queen of Westeros, I believe"

To my mother. Viserys sold it; Dany rose from her chair and approached the slave holding the box. The spicy scents of the house might be making her eyes watering. Carefully, she took the tiara. It looked exactly as it had when she last saw it. She was only a child then.

"I thank you" her voice broke a little, so she cleared her throat "What is your name?"

"Reggio Calarzis, Your Grace"

"I thank you, Reggio"

"You mustn't thank me, only remember my name"

Dany squinted her eyes watching him leave. He wanted something from her, they all did. From the morn to the night people kept appearing at her doors with gifts. Gold coins, a silver tub, silks and velvet, cloaks, gowns, face powder from Lys, heels, books and other artifacts. Necklaces, bracelets, rings and other crowns. Less important crowns. They did not give her anything useful.

"Would it be terribly rude if we sell some of these?" she asked Jorah once night fell and the guests left.

"What do you wish to buy, Khaleesi? An army to take back your father's throne? The Unsullied are the greatest warriors, and if we sell some of the offerings we might be able to afford a good number of them"

Dany frowned at Jorah's words.

"The greatest slave warriors. I shall not have anyone enslaved in my khalasar"

Or anywhere else. She could not do anything yet, but if Aggo was right in a year she would be capable of true change. Drogon would be big enough then. 

"Unsullied are not warriors, they are not even men" Rakharo huffed.

"Of course they are" Dany argued "Tis not their fault the slavers cut their cocks"

Over the past moon she had been growing used to hearing and using such foul language. It made her feel older, to speak that way. Dany was reunited with her trusted warriors and handmaidens in the hall of the manse, the place where she first met Drogo. Her eyes travelled every so often to the coloured glass mosaic in the entry hall. It depicted the Doom of Valyria. The flames eating the dragons and buildings. A sad fate for her ancestors' home.

"Without a cock there is no man, and without a man there is no warrior" he sounded so convinced and others nodded along.

"What of me then? I will never be a warrior, no matter how hard I train?"

"You are a different case Khaleesi" Jhogo spoke in a diplomatic tone.

"What of Irri then? She has better aim than you do"

Irri smirked at him and Jhogo shrunk at the laughs of the men around him. Dany rolled her eyes and drank some of the wine they gifted her.

"Khaleesi" Aggo, unlike everyone else, stood by the couch alert "It is your decision, and what I believe is of no consequence"

"But?"

"Vaes Dothrak. It is time I think"

Dany took a deep breath. Vaes Dothrak, the only city of the Dothraki. They wished her to go there to meet with the dosh khaleen and receive their blessing. If they thought her fit to be a Khal, that was. The notion that they might not accept her filled her with dread.

"I cannot. I am nowhere near good with the sword or the arakh"

"But no blood can be spilled in Vaes Dothrak, Khaleesi" Jhiqui tried to ease her fears.

"No. Not there, but on the way there"

She could stumble upon another khalasar, one bigger and with a more dangerous Khal. And if that were to happen...well, Dany was only four and ten and her dragons were too small. 

"I shall retire to my bedchambers"

It was not just her she feared for, but for her people. What would their fate be if she died? Dany walked back to her rooms alone, tired and in need of sleep. She closed the door behind her to muffle the sound of the laughter that came from the hall. And the moment she did, cold steel pressed against her throat. Someone grabbed her, caged her with his body.

A man, yes. Dany refrained herself from screaming, her heart beat so fast she could hear it on her ears. Instinctively her hands went to the man's arm, trying to push the blade away from her throat. The room was dark, only the moonlight that came through the window illuminated it. Drogon hissed, flames lighting up the room and setting the man's arm on fire. He screamed, she took his blade. He stumbled against the carpets, and fell close to the open window, the moonlight tinting him white as milk. Soon her leal kos were there. The man tried to escape, but Rakharo cut his throat with his arakh.

Dany gasped, her fist clenching around the handle of the blade, she had been holding her breath. Someone came to kill her. There was someone waiting for her. But why?

She looked around, Viserion and Rhaegal flapped their wigs at her and chirped, they had metal collars around their necks. Not her, she realized, they came for her dragons. They were no longer safe there.

"We will journey to Vaes Dothrak at first light" her Dothraki came rushed and choked, but they understood her.

Dany took of the metal collars from their necks. A dragon was not a slave.

Chapter Text

Early in the morning Vayon Poole told him of an urgent meeting of the small council. He knew that being the Hand of the King was a great responsibility, he knew beforehand. Robert warned him. 

The King shits and the Hand wipes indeed.

He shouldered most of the responsibilities of the Realm. It was tiring. He was tired and far from home. All that he wanted was to return to Winterfell, to return to his sons and to Cat. Maybe to travel to the Wall to see Jon. There was so much he needed to speak to him about.

That morn, right after breaking his fast, he walked to the small council chambers. When opening the doors he found himself surprised, Robert was there. Robert did not usually attend any meetings, but for some reason he did this time.

"Finally, Lord Hand" Littlefinger smirked "Lord Varys refuses to speak a word of whatever so urgent matters he has called us here for without your presence. But you are here now"

"What are the fucking news?" Robert growled from his seat "Sit your arse down, Ned! I wish to return to my affairs as soon as possible"

Ned did, sitting at his right. Varys was the only one who wasn't sitting, he wandered around the room in a large orange tunic with a twisted expression on his face. That worried Ned, Varys never seemed worried, he had never seen him worried before.

"I heard a song coming from Essos" the bald man said "many songs, in truth"

Essos. Daenerys and Viserys. Ned cursed under his breath, making sure no one heard him. Anything related to the Targaryens made Robert's blood boil. It was best not to bring up the topic.

"Speak now, eunuch" Renly checked his nails seemingly bored by the situation.

"Viserys Targaryen is dead" Varys finally said. Robert laughed and raised his cup "but Daenerys Targaryen has declared herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and she—"

"Good luck with that!" The King cackled, wiping tears from his eyes brought by the laughter "That girl will be dead by the end of the moon"

"Or in a lyseni pleasure house" Littlefinger commented.

Ned shook his head, other than him only Ser Barristan was horrified by their words. Daenerys should not have declared herself Queen, but she did not deserve the fate that awaited her. She was only a child, younger than her own nephew.

"She has three dragons" Varys' words brought silent to the room, a kind of silence he had only heard during the Rebellion "Hatchlings now, but with time they could grow to be big enough to pose a threat"

"What?" Robert demanded to know in a strained tone, his face red with anger "How? Your songs are must have been fucking misheard"

"Dragons are dead" Pycelle seemed to awake from his nap in that moment "They have been for centuries now"

"Surely Varys is merely jesting" Renly tried for a smile, but it did not come out right.

It seemed it was not only Ned who had never seen Varys so worried.

"Viserys arranged a marriage between Daenerys and Khal Drogo, a Dothraki horse lord, during the wedding he killed Viserys and in turn Daenerys poisoned him. The songs say she was burned at the stake but came out unharmed and with three dragons. She now rides to Vaes Dothrak with her small khalasar. She must have at least a hundred strong warriors, those who stood witness to the hatching of the eggs that had been a wedding gift"

Daenerys Targaryen, a girl of four and ten, had poisoned her husband and walked out of a fire unscarred with Dothraki followers and three baby dragons. How much of that was true and how much a lie? One thing was clear, however, Daenerys Targaryen lived and she might become a problem in the future. But she was little more than a child, just a few years older than his Sansa.

She's Jon's family.

The thought was troubling. Daenerys was the last living member of Jon's family through his father.

"Get rid of her" Robert grumbled standing up ready to leave "Kill her, I don't care how"

"Robert, no" Ned begged "I beg of you, do not do this. She's little more than a child!"

"She has dragons!"

They both knew that was not the reason he wanted her dead. It was not about the threat that she could pose to the Realm, it was about his loathing towards Rhaegar.

"The last dragons of the Targaryen dynasty were not bigger than a cat, I am sure her dragons will be the same"

A lie, he was not sure of it, not as sure as he would have been some time ago. A few moons ago a red comet crossed the sky, the smallfolk believed it to be a sing of something. A bleeding star, they called it. The Maesters said it was merely a comet, but mayhaps the smallfolk were in the right this time. Dragons had been big and fierce two centuries ago, why could they not be so again?

"Unless they are not" Littlefinger's smirk had vanished "Tis best to kill them now, her and the dragons, while we still can"

"She has Dothraki followers" Renly interjected pouring himself some more wine "No doubt some would make the job harder than needed"

"Poison, then" Pycelle offered playing with his long beard "Tears of Lys, her followers do not need to know that it was not a natural death"

"Poison is a cowards weapon" the King protested.

"You wish to send sellswords to kill a girl of four and ten and still you speak of honour" Ned had heard too much. He pushed the chair backwards and stood up "Do it yourself, Robert. The man who passes the sentence should wield the sword. Look at her in the eyes before you kill her. Watch her tears, listen to her last words. Is the least you can do"

"By the Gods, Ned! I want it done, and that's final"

"Do as you please, Your Grace, but I will not take part in it"

He truly was going to kill a child. 

Jon's aunt.

"You are the Hand of the King, you'll do as you're told"

Decisive, Ned took off his heavy silver brooch in the shape of a hand, a symbol of his station, a left it on the table.

"I will not be a Hand to such King"

With those words, Ned Stark abandoned the room, the King shouted for him, but he did not look back.

Chapter Text

Soon after leaving Pentos, Dany found herself with her first challenge as the Khaleesi. First, but not last. It was far from the last.

It was the first night outside her manse in Pentos. Dany shared a tent with her maids and her dragons, outside she could see the fire and the women dancing around it. She could hear the laughter, and the conversations. Her people were safe now, she thought. She was safe, even if the road ahead was uncertain. She would keep them safe. She was ready to close her eyes, with her belly full and warm and her body weary, and try to get some rest, before a scream interrupted her short moment of peace. 

Dany was swift in standing up, grabbing her whip and arakh and rushing outside to where the scream came from. It was one of the former slaves. A woman with fiery red hair and small frame. Tana, her mind supplied. One of the Dothraki was trying to force himself on her. Komo, she remembered, one of the youngest ones.

"Stop!" Dany hissed, her whip wrapping around the man's throat.

The music and the laughter died, the women stopped dancing.

"Khaleesi" Rakharo called for her "This is our way!"

Dany pulled her whip, throwing Komo, one of her bloodriders, to the ground.

"No!" she repeated. She thought of Viserys's hands on her breasts, pinching her nipples until she cried. Of the many nights she feared he would come to her bed. She would not allow her people to know that fear "No! This type of crime will not be tolerated! Never! If you wish to bed a woman, she must be willing! Do otherwise and I will be forced to punish you by turning you into eunuchs. Understood?"

She did not know if she had said it right. The Dothraki came quickly and roughly from her lips, sounding more like a mix of growls and grunts. But she saw the understanding in their eyes.

Good. I will not have this. Not now. Not ever.

Afterwards, Dany left for her tent, unwrapping her whip from Komo's neck and taking Tana with her. Her dragons were alert and restless on her bed when she returned, as if they knew what just occurred. Mayhaps they did. They were smart. Dany smiled, extending her hand to pet the three of them. To calm them, for Jhiqui was already frightened by their previous restlesness 

Tana laid next to Doreah, for the two were close as Irri and Jhiqui, it seemed. Dany left her weapons next to her bed, should she need them, and that was when Ser Jorah entered.

"Khaleesi, may we have a word?" He spoke in the common tongue.

Dany nodded, ignoring her body's pleas for a rest. She went out of the tent with Ser Jorah, everyone had resumed what they were doing before she imposed the new law.

"What is the matter, Ser?"

She truly needed some rest, they spent the whole day riding and will spend the next few moons riding. 

"Khaleesi, If I may speak freely..." She nodded. She did not know what she was doing. She was not raised for leading warriors, even if it was in her blood. But Ser Jorah was a Mormont, he had been the heir. He had been the lord of Bear Island. Surely, he would know what to do "I do not think it wise to forbid your warriors from bedding a woman"

"I have not done anything such. They can bed any woman they wish to so long as they are willing as well"

That was far from unreasonable.

"They are men, Khaleesi, they have needs" he insisted "Men need blood, conquest and—"

"To get it wet?" she finished with a raised eyebrow. She was a Khaleesi now, no longer a frightened child, she will speak freely "No. Men do not need such things, they merely believe they do. I will prove they do not. Otherwise, I, as a dragon, can burn and kill all the cities I wish to"

Jorah sighed, his face pale.

"And what of the slaves? Is it your plan to free all the slaves within your reach?"

Is it? Can I?

"Someone has to. And if it is not me, who would?"

She had been a slave, for a while at least. Sold by her brother to a man thrice her age. Only when she took matters into her own hands was she able to do something. Only when she trusted herself. Trusted her dreams. Trusted her blood.

Dany did not wait for Jorah to say anything else. She was too tired. She returned to her tent, this time to sleep.

It took four weeks for her Khalasar to cross the Forest of Qohor. It was a beautiful place, with trees large as houses and leaves that gave a golden hue when exposed to sunlight. Dany had never seen so much green put together before. Her childhood consisted in moving from door to door and alley to alley ever since she left the house with the red door. Ever since she was forced to leave her home.

She went at the head of her small khalasar, closely followed by her kos and her handmaidens. Her dragons flying above them. Sometimes landing on a cart when they were tired. They were growing quickly, specially Drogon. Silent as a shadow, flying above her and only her, as big as a dog now. He hunted his own food, while his brothers still depended on Dany to feed them. Rhaegal and Viserion were like babies, as big as cats and just as spoiled as well.

Dany was good at riding. She quite enjoyed it. She grew used to riding all day fairly quickly, or so Irri told her. They rode all day, hunted when the sun set, and drank and laughed in the dark. It did not take long for her to be one of the Dothraki dancing around the fire or drinking fermented mare's milk. It did not take long for her to fully consider herself one of them. To see the Khalasar as her people and her home. Much she would like to have an unmoving home, she knew it was unlikely. She was a Khaleesi of the Dothraki now. It was not a possibility.

As Dany rode the bell on her braid tinkled. She had only one for now, for even after they reached the Great Grass Sea they found no conflict. The trip to the Dothraki's only city lasted around two moons. In that time, her people grew close to each other and to her. Aggo, her dear silent ko, had taken a liking to Doreah. Not that she knew, although everyone knew, but Doreah. At the same time, the lyseni girl was now a part of her small group of handmaidens. The eldest of the four. She had grown specially close to Tana, who after Komo's assault had become one of her handmaidens. She was closer in age to Doreah than to Dany, Irri and Jhiqui, and like all of them she had been a slave once.

No longer. She had no slaves in her khalasar, she never would. It was as she told Jorah.

If I don't do it, who would?

No one. Just like no one brought back the dragons before her. It had been her. Daenerys Stormborn. Not Viserys. Not her kingly father. Not her heroic brother. Her.

"Ser Jorah" Dany called. He rode closely behind her, amongst Jhogo, Rakharo and Aggo "May I ask you something?"

"Ask away, Khaleesi"

"What do you know of my family? Of my house?"

Illyrio used to tell her brother that the smallfolk of the Seven Kingdoms were waiting for him to return. That they were toasting in his name in secret, and embroidering the sigil of their house into their clothes. Dany doubted he was telling the truth.

"Everything I have learnt from my maester. They teach us the history of house Targaryen"

"My father...I heard whispers, rumours" he was mad, they said. Viserys did not, but everyone else did. The 'Mad King' they called him "What is true and what is not"

"I do not know what you know, Khaleesi, but what I know is not good"

"Tell me" she commanded.

"I fought with the rebels, for I was a vassal of house Stark and they were wronged" Jorah sucked in a sharp breath "Prince Rhaegar took Lyanna Stark, and King Aerys killed Lord Rickard and his heir, Brandon. The King...he enjoyed burning people. Things I hear about him, none are pleasant"

Dany closed her eyes for a moment. She feared that much. Viserys got it all wrong, it seemed. When she opened her eyes again they had arrived. Two gigantic bronze stallions whose hooves met a hundred feet above the roadway formed a pointed arch that was supposed to be a gate. The Horse Gate was just how Irri had described it. As was the Mother of Mountains, the great purple mountain that could be seen from where she was.

There was a lot more people than there was supposed to be. In Vaes Dothrak only the dosh khaleen and some slaves lived permanently. It was one of the biggest cities in Essos, yet also one of the smallest. Dany could see hundreds of people, mayhaps thousands, as they crossed the gates.

"Many Khals are here" Irri said, a touch of fear in her voice. Dany did not like it "But not all. That is good"

"What would happen if all Khals were here at the same time?"

"One single Khal will rise above all others and take everyone into his khalasar" Jhiqui eyed the members of the others khalasar with uneasiness "It is known"

They were staring at her. The people in the city, they stared at the silver-haired girl leading a khalasar and her dragons. Viserion and Rhaegal were on top of one of the carts, hissing at those that stared for too long. Drogon did not stop, he flew over Dany's head. Watching. Waiting.

There was not a single person in her khalasar that did not possess a horse. And maybe that was odd for those who watched from the outside. A small and skinny girl, a khalasar without slaves but with dragons. Nothing they had seen before.

Would they ever accept her? If the dosh khaleen said no to her leadership, would they still follow her? They saw her be reborn amongst the flames, yes, but the dosh khaleen were their highest authority. If the dosh khaleen did not accept her, what would they think of her?

Dany had no time to think further on that matter, for various men approached her once she dismounted her horse. Tall men with muscular arms and hundreds of bells in their long braids.

Khals.

Dany recognized one of them. One who had been one of Drogo's kos. Jhaqo.

"Witch" he snarled at her.

It made her want to cower and hide, but Dany did not allow her fear to be seen.

I must be strong. For my people.

"The dosh khaleen wishes to see you" another Khal said "Come"

Dany straightened her back and took a deep breath.

"Irri, Doreah, feed Viserion and Rhaegal" she ordered her handmaids "Some horse meat will do"

Food would keep them calm. Drogon was another matter altogether, he was still flying high above Vaes Dothrak. Why? Was he waiting for something? For someone to attack Dany? In Vaes Dothrak, one could not shed a free man's blood or unsheathed a weapon. But that did not mean there were no murders in the city. Irri was clear about it.

Dany followed the other Khals, her whip and arakh attached to her belt, just like theirs. It gave her some sense of security. As she walked, she looked up to the sky. Drogon was following her.

Good.

His presence made her feel safer. He wasn't a big, frightening dragon like in the stories. Drogon was only the size of a medium dog, yet he flew and breathed fire. And in less than a year, she could fly on his back. His scales were hardening more and more each day, his fire grew hotter each day, and he grew larger. He would be dreadful one day. As frightening as Balerion had been.

The Khals took her to a great manse of woven grass. Inside, ten elderly women sat around a fire. They all wore brown and green simple gowns, and their hair was wild and loose.

"Here she is. The Khaleesi" Jhaqo sneered at her "The murderess"

"We should kill her. Make an example of her" another Khal growled.

Others agreed with him, in-between laughs and glances at her. It made her nervous.

The oldest of the dosh khaleen, a woman with gray hair and a snub nose, stepped forward. She raised her thin, calloused hand, and that small gesture silenced all the Khals.

"I heard much about you" she said "The girl who slayed the Great Khal. The one who was burnt at the pyre of her husband and returned unharmed. The one who brought dragons to this world. The Khaleesi with no Khal" she swatted her hand "All good. All impressive. Yet Khal Jhaqo tells me other stories. He says you're a maegi, that you used the dark arts to survive the fire and that you brought back monsters to this world. Which one is true, girl?"

She did not cower under the insisted gaze of the old woman. She did not cower under the sneers and snarls of the Khals. She could not.

I am the blood of the dragon. A dragon feasts on horses. I have nothing to fear from any of them.

"My name is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen" she spoke with her head held high "The Mother of Dragons. Khaleesi of the Dothraki. The Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I am no mere girl, and I have not committed any crime"

"Lying whore!" Jhaqo hissed to her face. She would not cower "You murdered your husband, Khal Drogo"

"I bested him" Dany corrected. She was the blood of the dragon "I bested him in wits. He was a Khal and I slayed him. By right, everything that was his should now be mine. Warriors and slaves alike"

She would have free them all already, but would most likely have had more issues with it. That would not stop her, however. She was a slave for a little while, and would never wish such fate upon her worst enemy.

"Poison is a weakling's weapon"

"But there is no law that forbids such weapon" if there was Irri had not mentioned it. But by the Khals silence she could tell that there was no such law indeed "Which means what was his ought to be mine now. Would that not make your whole khalasar mine?" Jhaqo's nostrils flared. Dany lowered her hand to her whip. No blood could be spilled, but that did not mean no killing "But as I am generous, I'll allow you to keep it so long as you recognize me as a Khaleesi and treat me as you would any other Khal"

"You are no Khal"

"You are just a woman" the tallest of them said. He did not laugh, he only stared at her "And odd woman"

"She is a Khaleesi" one of the dosh khaleen, the youngest, a big woman with dark curls, stood close to the oldest "She killed Khal Drogo, that makes her a Khal. A Khaleesi. The first Khaleesi"

The oldest nodded at the youngest words "The first Khaleesi"

It was done. They had accepted her. She was a Khaleesi now. The dosh khaleen had declared her a Khaleesi. They had accepted her. There was not going back now. The Khals were fuming, complaining in a way so rough Dany could not fully understand them. Not the tall one, he however, he seemed calm. She did not know if that was good or bad.

"Welcome to Vaes Dothrak, Khaleesi Daenerys" one of the dosh khaleen said.

Dany smiled at the woman. She was kind, they were all kind. Dany could not imagine the horrors those women had endured. What they had seen. She did not want to imagine.

When she left the manse, her kos were waiting for her. Jorah, Aggo, Rakharo and Jhogo. Drogon was still flying above the city.

"We thought you dead, Khaleesi" Rakharo seemed to be jesting, but she knew he was not.

"I thank you for your confidence, Rakharo"

The young Dothraki warrior just shrugged. His thoughts were not without merit, however, Dany herself had thought they were going to kill her. They did not, but only because the dosh khaleen would not allow it. Otherwise they would have killed her. They would kill her if they ever found her out of Vaes Dothrak.

I won't let them.

She couldn't die. If she did, what would happen to the people she swore to protect? All the former slaves, all the women, the children? Nothing good. The world was a cruel place, they needed her protection. And what of her dragons? Would they survive without her? Mayhaps Drogon could, but Viserion and Rhaegal were still too small. Barely more than babes. They needed her as well.

They all did.

She was the last Targaryen. If she died, her house would die with her. Dany could not allow that to happen either. She could not. She would not.

"There is a feast tonight" Aggo commented "Are you to attend as a Khaleesi?"

"I am" she answered proudly.

It was as if a weight had lifted from every single one of them. Their tense backs relaxed, their frowns disappeared and their alert eyes stopped constantly moving from one side to another. They were safe now. At least for the moment. Dany did not think that would last long. Once they left Vaes Dothrak things would be different. More dangerous. She needed to be ready.

When night fell, Dany and her khalasar were already on the feasting hall. They took place in one corner, arriving before all the others. Viserion and Rhaegal slept around Irri, Jhiqui, Doreah and Tana. Drogon was another matter. He sat on her lap, ever alert.

The cavernous wooden feasting hall had walls that rose forty feet high. A silk roof that could be raised or lowered and inside the hall are three firepits. Dany sat at a high bench, amongst her kos and handmaidens. Every Khal sat at one of the high benches, amongst their bloodriders. And she was one now, but mayhaps she had too many bloodriders. She would not change that, however. That high number kept her safe.

The three other Khals spoke to one another. Shared tales of their battles and victories. They said nothing to her. She was an outsider. For them, she was unworthy of her title.

"They are frightening" Doreah murmured to Dany in the common tongue "And I learnt long ago that it was best to stay on the good side of frightening men"

Dany squeezed the girl's hand. Those brief references to her past life were always chilling to the core. What Doreah had gone through...she could not imagine.

"They will not harm you" Aggo told her.

Doreah smiled sweetly at him. Dany could see herself celebrating their wedding not too far in the future.

"Irri" Dany turned to her handmaiden "I know Jhaqo, but who are the other Khals?"

"The tallest one is Khal Mero" the calm one "he has twenty thousand warriors in his khalasar. And the one with the large mustache is Khal Moro. But Jhaqo remains the most dangerous, for he took all that was Drogo's. Only a few of us stayed behind with you, Khaleesi"

"Jhaqo is cruel and vicious" Jhiqui agreed, nodding. She was the one most frightened by her dragons, yet now she seemed to be more at ease with them than with Jhaqo's gaze on her "He is dangerous, Khaleesi. We must be careful around him"

"Mmm" Jhogo agreed with his mouth full of horse meat "He was always keen with torture. Khal Drogo used to allow him to do as he wished with the slaves. Things got bloody"

Jhogo was the youngest of all her warriors. Just a few years older than Dany herself. Three, at most. His braid was short, and he only had a couple of bells in it.

"Yes. We need to be careful" Rakharo nodded in agreement.

"We ought to wait for him and his khalasar to leave the city before doing it ourselves"

Dany nodded at Jorah's words. It would be the intelligent thing to do. In Vaes Dothrak he could not attack her, but outside was another matter altogether.

"I will be the one to slay one the hrakkars" Jhaqo bragged from the other side of the hall, all confident, drunk on mare's milk.

"So you say" Moro rolled his eyes.

"Are you calling me a liar?" his temper flared.

Were they going to fight? No blood could be spilled, but they could surely exchange blows. They would.

"We all have equal opportunity of slay one of the hrakkars" Mero remained calm, as he had before.

Dany wondered if he was always like that. Calm, collected, diplomatic. Before she could think much on it, she realized they were talking about hunting one of those white lions that dwell in the Great Grass Sea. Were they planning on going together?

"We will see who hunts him, tomorrow"

It seemed like they were.

"I wish to join" Dany raised her voice to be heard over the music and the shouts.

The three Khals stared at her, barely concealed rage in Jhaqo's face. They did not come close, any of them. Constantly eyeing the dragon on her lap and the ones with her handmaidens.

"You cannot" Mero tells her in a matter-of-fact way "We are going up the Mother of Mountains, and no woman is allowed there"

"Why not?"

The people began to silence one another, all trying to listen to the conversation between the dangerous Khals and the only Khaleesi. Dany did not back down. It was a stupid law, anyway.

"It is just not done"

"Well, now it is. I will go"

Jhaqo laughed. Cackled, more like. She did not like it one bit, and by the look on people's faces, they did not either.

"You will not" he told her once he was done laughing.

Dany clenched her jaw. How dare he tell her what she could or could not do?

"I am a Khaleesi of the Dothraki" in her lap, Drogon stirred, as if he could feel her anger. He was almost too big to sit on her lap, but he liked it nonetheless. He moved, placing himself in the bench by Dany's side and flapping his black wings dangerously. Everyone on the hall took a step back. Dany rose from her seat "I am deserving of any honor reserved for the Khals, this is one of them. I will not be told what I can or cannot do anymore than you would"

Mero's eyes were upon Drogon, weary and alert, before they fell on her. He nodded, face blank and emotionless.

"Very well. We leave at first light"

Dany let out a quiet breath. At first light they would ascend to the Mother of Mountains. At first light she would be the first woman to set a foot on the Mother of Mountains.

And so when the light came she was ready. Her handmaidens helped her dress up, a painted leather vest and silk breeches gifted to her by one of the merchants in Pentos. Irri oiled and braided her hair before adding the small bell. Only one. For now. It was Jhiqui who handed her the weapons. Her whip, arakh and a dagger, all of them hanging from her wide belt.

"We wish you the best of lucks, Khaleesi" Tana said, eyeing the other Khals nervously.

Viserion and Rhaegal were still sleeping, but Drogon was wide awake and planned on flying with her. 

Viserion and Rhaegal will be enough to protect them, if something happens.

"Khaleesi..."Jorah started.

"None of the other Khals are ascending with company. Not even their bloodriders with accompany them. I cannot be different"

"You are very different already, Khaleesi. Mother of Dragons. There is no other like you"

That much was true. It was a thought that saddened her. She was alone in that regard. She had no family, no one who could understand.

"I will have Drogon following me on the sky" she tried to reassure the knight "Fear not"

"Careful with the hrakkar, Khaleesi. Those are fierce" Rakharo smirked "But not more than you are"

When the sun came out, Dany left behind her khalasar. Her people. And ascended the Mother of Mountains. It was much like any other of the mountains around. Not that Dany knew much of mountains. She had never even seen one before travelling to Vaes Dothrak.

When climbing the mountain, Dany had to watch where she stepped. Fearing she would fall and make a fool of herself. They walked and walked for hours, until Dany could barely feel her legs. Only Drogon on the sky gave her the strength to keep going. They kept walking until the sky darkened, with no sight of a single hrakkar, and only then did they stop.

"Not a single beast has crossed our paths. It's the woman. It's her fault" Moro growled "Women are not supposed to be here. Ever"

They sat around a fire, the four of them. Dany stroked Drogon's head, refusing to feel offended by Moro's words.

"Not Daenerys" Mero said "Her beast."

Drogon screeched at him, Mero's eyes widened. It was the first time Dany saw him being something other than calm and collected.

"Both should not be here" Jhaqo unsheathed a knife "We should just get rid of her"

Dany tensed, straightening her back, hand lowering to her arakh.

"Try it" she dared them.

Drogon hissed, feeling her fear.

"They will not" Mero was tense, yet he tried to remain calm "Your beast needs not to attack us"

"His name is Drogon" Dany corrected them, slightly offended "And he is no beast"

He was not a beast. He was her protector. Her child. And soon her mount.

Moro and Jhaqo turned to each other, speaking do fast she could only make out a few words. Mero, however, looked at her.

"How did you do it? Bring forth the dragons, not burn at the pyre? What sort of sorcery did you use?"

"None"

Dreams and blood. My dreams and my blood.

Mero raised an eyebrow, not believing her words. She would be offended if not for the screams that broke through the quiet of the night. Moro was being attacked by an animal, blood flowing from the raw remains of his open throat. The animal, of white fur and white mane, bigger than her, set his sights on her. Its eyes were yellow and vicious. Drogon flapped his wings, rising to the sky and diving claws-first into the animal's back. It roared in pain, shaking Drogon off, his white fur turning red. Dany unsheathed her dagger, heart beating do fast she felt as though it could break her ribcage. She moved fast, just like they had taught her, driving her dagger into the animal's eye. It launched towards her blindly, claws digging into her arm. Dany screamed as Drogon bathed the animal in flames. His fire was not yet hot enough to instantly kill him, so the animal could move and escape it. Dany grabbed her arakh, taking advantage of the near blindness of the animal, and sliced his neck open.

The blood bathed the grass under it, before it collapsed.

"The hrakkar" she heard.

Oh. Right.

Dany had killed the hrakkar.

Chapter Text

Dany thought she might faint. She felt dizzy, most likely do to the blood loss, and nauseous. And still, she climbed down the Mother of Mountains dragging the hrakkar and Moro's body behind her. Not alone, Mero helped her while Jhaqo was cursing constantly in a dothraki so rough she could barely understand what he was saying. He was most likely insulting her.

Would I that I cared...

They reached Vaes Dothrak come morning, with the sun shining bright over their heads and burning hot on their skin. Dany nearly collapsed on Irri's arms, so tired she was.

"What has happened?" Jorah demanded to know from behind Irri.

"I killed the hrakkar. I wish to have a cloak made of its skin" she declared with whichever strength she had left.

"Come, Khaleesi, let us heal your wounds" Jhiqui helped her walk to the manse she was being housed in. Only then did Drogon abandon the skies to touch the earth. Her biggest dragon collapsed on her bed near his brothers, curling onto himself to sleep. Dany laid on the other side as an old barren dothraki woman tended to the bleeding scratches on her body. Doreah brought her fresh water in a clay vessel and she drank eagerly "Is Khal Moro dead, Khaleesi?"

Dany nodded, stroking Viserion's head. Rhaegal and him were sleeping, one on top of the other, both practically purring. They were very much like big cats.

"The hrakkar killed him. It was quick, I suppose"

She did not truly remember all that well. It all happened so fast. Dany herself almost died, not for the first time. She had been on the brink of death many times now. And she knew she would be again many more times.

Is the price I pay for my position.

"Khaleesi" Jorah, Aggo, Rakharo and Jhogo entered her chamber, all fully armed "Khal Mero and Khal Jhaqo are taking Moro's warriors. Sharing them. This is a chance to gain more warriors without a fight. An opportunity like this one will not appear any time soon. Let us get those warriors"

And the slaves, she thought, she could take them and free them. If she did not, Mero and Jhaqo would take them and she did not think them or their bloodriders to be kind to those they considered inferior. When the old woman finished bandaging her wounds, Dany stood up on shaky feet and grabbed her arakh.

"Let us go then"

She winced at every step, but did not slow down or stop until she reached Mero and Jhaqo. They were presiding over thousands, dozens of warriors behind them, and some others pledging to them already. They did not grieve Moro, although she supposed they could not be blamed for it. Especially not the slaves.

"What are you doing here?" Jhaqo spat at her.

"Came to collect. My khalasar is in need of more warriors, Khal Jhaqo" she tried to be as kind as one could be.

It did not have the desired outcome, for Jhaqo just laughed to her face.

"There is nothing here for you, girl, go back to your eunuchs and barren women"

Anger was always so much easier than kindness. It bloomed in her chest, clawed its way out of her.

"I am no mere 'girl'. I am Daenerys Stormborn, a Khaleesi of the Dothraki, and you will show me the same respect you would show any other Khal"

He was going to laugh again, she was certain. So brave now that Drogon was resting. But Khal Mero interrupted.

"She is right, she is one of us. She slayed a hrakkar. We must show respect"

"Have you gone mad? Has she bewitched you?"

"I have no need of magic to form my opinions" he said, cold as ever.

"I'll take the slaves" Dany said, trying to keep her composure before the thousands of eyes observing the exchange "Should you wish only for warriors"

"No" Jhaqo growled "I want the slaves"

She was hoping he would not take them. That she could free them all. A fool's hope. Dany turned to look at Jorah, remembering his words about the warriors.

"If you do not give me all the slaves, then I must have some warriors at least"

"Warriors are men, riders, they choose" Mero corrected, not unkindly.

"Good, then let them"

They gathered in a large stone pavilion, the three Khals and the warriors that previously rode with Moro. And the dosh khaleen. The widows formed a semi circle at the end of the pavilion, the eldest standing in the middle and the three Khals in front of them.

"We stand here so you can choose who you will fight for in the coming sacks and plunders" the eldest said. Her name was Mavie, she remembered "Khal Jhaqo, Khal Mero or Khalessi Daenerys. May you choose wisely"

And choosing they did. They chose Mero, putting themselves in a line in front of him. And they chose her. They kneeled before her. Warrior after warrior, more than a hundred warriors, they kneeled. Flanked by her loyal kos, Dany left the pavilion with a thousand warriors following her. She had an odd feeling on her chest as she walked with all of those warriors following her, a good feeling, but it immediately disappeared when she saw the slaves Moro left behind. They were alone and scared, and soon under the rule of some other Khal. Dany could not let that happen.

"I claim you!" She shouted "I claim all of you! You will be part of my khalasar! And in my khalasar there are no slaves!"

The former slaves whispered, each on their own tongue, looking to one another. She saw their incredulous looks, their fear, their hope.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Jhaqo grabbed her by her messy braid, pulling until she was against his chest with an arakh to her neck. He was too fast, her kos were too slow to notice, yet they were all reaching for their weapons "You have no right!"

"Do it. Kill me" Dany was not paralyzed by the fear, but she was terrified. Still, she needed to be strong. They need me to be strong "But if you do, know that you will not survive. This is Vaes Dothrak, you cannot spill blood on this city. The rest will kill you for your afront. And even if you manage to survive and escape, I have a hundred bloodriders. You will follow me in death one manner or the other"

"Let go of her, Jhaqo" Mero growled.

She could hear her heart beating in her ears, the terrifying roar of her dragons, small as the were, as they flew to her. Drogon flew ahead, as if he could feel her fear. He flapped his wings just above them, ready to bathe them in fire. Jhaqo trembled and let her go. Dany stumbled, but did not fall, Mero avoided it.

"You will not be safe forever" Jhaqo spat before leaving.

Come morning, him and his khalasar left Vaes Dothrak, the threat hanging heavily on the air.

They stayed in Vaes Dothrak for far longer than they should have. Of that, Dany was fairly certain. None complained, as it was. They were all too tired from the journey to the city, and the things that occurred, so they were happy to wait for Dany to heal. And heal her wounds did, leaving scars where the hrakkar's claws had sunk into her skin. She wore them with pride.

With the hrakkar's skin her people made her a beautiful cloak. The skin of its head being used as a hood. While Dany felt some kind of sadness when seeing the animal's face, she also felt pride. It had been her who did that. It had been her who slayed the hrakkar. None of the other Khals but her. That had been a victory, and it had earned her another bell attached to her braid. Irri told her than in no time she would have so many bells that her enemies would hear her coming. And Jhiqui had agreed with her.

"They believe you to be the Stallion Who Mounts the World, My Queen" Jorah had told her.

She knew of that prophecy. The Khal of Khals. Irri and Jhiqui told her of it, in a somehow solemn way. It was an important part of their culture, so she had to learn of it. Truth be told, it did sound terrifying. The notion of a Khal who reigned over all Dothraki. For what she could tell, no civilization had ever been ruled by one single person. Of course, there were kings and queen, and emperors, but those had other lords presiding over a certain amount of land and people. It was not the same. Everyone united under one leader, one goal. Could anything be more dangerous?

It had been on of the stone manses, a few nights after the hunt that got Dany her second victory, when she realized that Irri and Jhiqui were not the only ones who thought that way. They were all gathered there, in that manse built by slaves, warriors and the freed men and women of her Khalasar. As well as Mero and his own khalasar. They were feasting, many women dancing around the fire. Her dragons, ever-growing, rested on the benches by her side and that of her handmaidens. Warriors from her khalasar drinking and laughing with other warriors from Mero's khalasar.

The dosh khaleen was there as well, something about predicting their future conquests. Dany did not know how true that was, but those were her people now, she had to listen to the dosh khaleen just like they did. Everyone fell silent when the dosh khaleen surrounded the bonfire, only the faint sound of music could be heard. It was a kind of dance, the way the eleven women twisted and turned as they chanted in a Dothraki so guttural she could barely understand them. Yet, the next words she understood perfectly.

"As swift as the wind he rides, and behind him his khalasar covers the earth, men without number, with arakhs shining in their hands like blades of razor grass. Fierce as a storm this prince will be. His enemies will tremble before him, and their wives will weep tears of blood and rend their flesh in grief. The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name. The prince is riding, and he shall be the stallion who mounts the world"

The eldest crone of the dosh khaleen, Mavie, looked at Dany's face and wailed. Her dragons spat fire, the three at the same time, into the bonfire. It heated up the air. The people fell quiet, and even the music ceased. They stared at her with fear and reverence in their eyes. She didn't know what to do with it.

Mero stared at her, dark eyes widened. She took a deep breath.

Irri, behind her, was smiling. Dany did not need to look at her to know that. She knew her fairly well.

"As it turns out, the Stallion Who Mounts the World is a mare. The Mare Who Mounts the World" she said.

It was her. Wasn't it? The Stallion, or Mare, like Irri said. She was building the khalasar that would cover the earth. She brought back the dragons. And she will soon ride the wind. Drogon, she will ride.

The milk men in the stone tents, does she mean the people of Westeros? The lords and knights and the Usurper?

She could live with that. The lords could fear her, but the people would love her. Like her khalasar loved her. All of her people would love her, and if her khalasar was meant to cover the earth, all the people, from Essos to Westeros, would love her. And in exchange, she will keep them safe, keep them fed and hale. She would rule fairly, kindly, like King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, and the people will cheer every time she flew above them on Drogon's back. And in her Kingdom, the sun will never set.

The snow fell quietly from the blue and grey sky, covering the earth and the trees. It fell on her naked skin, yet Dany was not cold, she was warm. She looked up to the clouds, above her a great black shadow flew. She watched the winged shadow flap its wings, moving on the sky. It gave her a sense of peace and freedom she couldn't understand. When she looked down again, a great white wolf stared at her with red eyes. Dany stilled—

"Khaleesi!" Irri's voice wake her up, shaking her as well "It is time to train!"

Dany opened her eyes, slightly dizzy from the dream. She looked around, her dragons were curled around her body on the bed, sleeping soundly.

"Yes"

And train they did, as they had for the past six moons. Not only her, but Irri and Jhiqui as well, most of the women of her khalasar had chosen to follow on her steps. The were all keen on knives and arakhs. Dany was not surprised by that, had she been a slave for longer than a day she would have been even more eager to learn how to fight. How to protect herself.

She was good with the whip and the arakh, fast on her feet, according to Jhogo and Rakharo and that helped her in learning for those weapons were light enough. The longsword was another deal altogether. It was too heavy for her to hold for a long time, so Jorah had suggested to get a new sword in the Eastern Market. One smaller and lighter, but as sharp and deadly as his own.

I should have a valyrian steel sword, she thought while bathing after the training session, my house had two, I remember, Viserys told me. Blackfyre and Dark Sister. Aegon's and Visenya's swords. They are part of my heritage, like dragons.

And she had dragons, kept safely on her stone manse until they were ready to leave again.

"What is Westeros like, Ser Jorah?" she asked to the oldest of her kos, the only one who knew how the land beyond the Narrow Sea was like "Viserys told me some stories, but even he could not fully remember it. And he only saw King's Landing and Dragonstone. You are from the North and fought in various wars, you must've seen more of it"

They were walking through the Eastern Market, followed by her most trusted warriors and maids.

"It is very beautiful, Khaleesi" he answered with ease "Mayhaps not the capital, is....dirty, to say the least, but otherwise very beautiful"

"I hope I will be able to see it someday"

"Oh, I am sure you will, Khaleesi. Your khalasar and dragons grow with each day that passes, before you realize it we could be back home"

Home.

Dany did not have a home. Not since the house with the red door and the lemon tree by her window. Not since the red door closed. Where was her home then? With her people? Yes, but where? Dragonstone? She had been born there, but her mother had died there. Died because of her. And her khalasar wouldn't do well in such a small island, not with their fear of salt water.

"Mayhaps"

They bought a sword, smaller than Jorah's and much lighter, just what they were looking for. She bought all the daggers they had as well, for her women warriors.

"I must go to see if I have received any letters. If you give leave, Khaleesi" 

Dany nodded at him, she still had some things to purchase.

"Letters? Was he not exiled?" Irri questioned as they moved through the market.

Doreah shrugged "His father lives still, mayhaps they keep contact"

Jhiqui shook her head "No. He said his father disowned him for the crime he committed. I remember, he told Khal Drogo. I was there"

"Then he might have gone to visit some women knowledgeable in the art of love" suggested the fair-haired lyseni girl "It is not that strange"

"Or unusual" Irri agreed "Men do this things"

"It is known" Jhiqui nodded.

Dany just hoped he treated the prostitutes with kindness.

"Wine. Oh, here wine! From Lys to Volantis to the lands of the West! Dorne and the Arbor! Best wine you will ever taste on your tongue!"

"Do you wish for westerosi wine, Khaleesi?" Jhogo asked when they passed near a wine seller "Wine from your land"

Rakharo smirked "Such a soft drink. A liquid for women"

"Well, I am a woman" Dany moved towards the man with a big smile "I would like some of that wine. The dornish"

She had dornish blood. Her brother Rhaegar had wed a dornish Princess then fell for the northern maiden. It was a sad story.

The man's eyes widened and he smiled back "Oh, ye beautiful woman, the most beautiful woman, I do not know if the dornish red will be fitting for someone such as you"

"This is the Khaleesi Daenerys Stormborn" Irri announced proudly and fiercely from behind her "And you will bow before speaking to her"

Dany rolled her eyes. It was true that they all bowed to her now. Every merchant that saw her, they bowed and called her Queen.

"Of course" the man, so out of place in the market, bowed with a flourish "Khaleesi, I have an even better wine for you. None of that dornish waste. Only the best for a queen such as yourself"

He turned to his tent and took out a goblet were he poured some wine from a green bottle without a signature. Dany frowned. The man was sweating, one might think it was due to the burning sun, but she was not a naive child anymore.

"Drink with me" it was a command, not a suggestion.

"Oh, no" he shook his head "this wine is far too fine for the likes of me. Only royalty can enjoy it"

"Drink" Aggo drawled in a rough common tongue "Now"

Rakharo drew his arakh. The man's smile disappeared immediately, he gulped.

"Of course, of course" 

He didn't drink, instead, acting as quickly as he could, he threw the drink to the grass and ran away. Jhiqui was faster than her, her whip wrapped around the man's ankle, making him fall face first to the ground. Aggo and Jhogo walked to him, arakhs in their hands. The man tried to stand up, but Aggo stepped on his back to keep him in place.

"No. Please. Please. I was forced....I didn't-"

Not forced, no, payed, yes. Someone payed him to kill her.

Not someone, the Usurper.

"Wait" Dany approached thehem, stopping her kos from executing the man "Who order you to poison me?"

"The King...the- King Robert...The Spi-der" he coughed, Aggo's leg did not allow him to breathe properly. He spoke with a strained voice "The small council. I did not want-"

Dany grabbed her new sword and sunk the blade on the back of the man's neck.

When she returned to her manse, her dragons were there waiting for her. Flapping their wings and screeching at her. Well, only Viserion and Rhaegal, Drogon was eating raw chicken that one of her maids, Tana, had brought. Drogon grew bigger and more fearsome each day, faster than his brothers did.

The sight of dragons flying over Vaes Dothrak was familiar to the Dothraki now. 

Mayhaps we have spent too much time here, after all the Usurper's assassin found me, had we been moving according to my plan and our customs this would not have happened.

Dany scratched Viserion's and Rhaegal's necks, the dragons purred at the same time like cats. They were big cats, truly.

But when trying to do the same to Drogon, the bigger dragon hissed at her. She was  taken aback by the reaction, but he only kept chewing on the chicken raw meat. She acted fast, not really thinking, and whipped him right on the face.

"DAOR" 

Do not. Not. No.

The order and the whipping seemed to do the trick, for Drogon lowered his head and went silent. Then, she stroked his head. He let her.

Not long after that, she left to her chambers, the dragons trailing after her.

Jorah finally returned when the sun was setting, she did not know why it took him so long.

Does he even have that many coins to pay for so long with the prostitutes?

They did not have all that much gold. She was yet to sell most of the jewellery, silks and gowns gifted to her in Pentos. What she had sold, what they had given her after selling it, she had spent it on weapons for her warriors and herself. Her mother's crown remained on her possession, of course, she would never sell it. It would not be lost again.

Dany was alone with her dragons, her mother's crown on her hands, when Jorah entered and bowed.

"Jhogo told me of what happened, Khaleesi. I apologize. I should have been there" Jorah told her with his head hanging low.

"We ended that threat rather quickly, do not worry, good sir"

That did not seem to calm Jorah's nervousness nor his worry. He remained pale, looking at the floor.

"I still should have been there"

"You should have" she agreed "As a member of my Queensguard it is your duty to protect me from any threat. It's what Queen Visenya created the order for"

She had been reading the books they gifted her, most of them talked about her family and their history. And she was learning from them. She needed to learn.

"I will never stop apologising for not being there, My Queen"

It was sweet, Dany thought, how remorseful he was. She smiled at him.

"Khaleesi" Irri was out of breath when she reached her chambers "Khal Mero is here, he wishes to speak to you"

Mero? What does he want? For what I know it is not typical for Khals to come to the other's manse. Irri and Jhiqui did not warn me of the possibility.

"Let him in"

Her handmaiden nodded. Khal Mero appeared, almost so tall that he didn't fit through the doors.

"Ser Jorah, leave us"

The old knight hesitated, but ultimately obeyed and left side-eying Mero.

"Stallion" Mero inclined his head towards her.

A sign of respect.

"I am not the Stallion"

"You are a Khal now, we do not question the ruling of the dosh khaleen" he said calmly, his eyes on the attentive Drogon behind Dany and on Rhaegal and Viserion laying on the bed "They will not attack me, will they?"

Dany carefully left her mother's crown over the table.

"Not as long as I am here"

Mero's black eyes moved from one dragon to another, calculating, yet nervous.

"I believe you should leave Vaes Dothrak, Daenerys"

Dany squinted her eyes and crossed her arms. She had to look childish like that. A girl of four and ten, small in height, against an skilled warrior of nearly thirty name days.

"Are you presuming to tell me what to do? After you just called me the Stallion? Mightily odd of you, Mero"

"I am not telling you what to do, merely what I believe. You must understand that no Khal stays in our city so long. If what you fear is encountering Jhaqo, he is long gone by now. To Pentos, he said. Do you not have plans? You, who is the first Khaleesi, who has no slaves on her khalasar and over a thousand warriors, men and women. I do not believe you do not think of anything, Stallion"

"I do have plans" she recognized "But I do not know how to proceed with them"

"May I ask? May I know?"

It might be foolish, but Dany believed she could trust Mero. He had helped her against Jhaqo, accepted her with relative ease. He believed she was the Stallion Who Mounts the World. Dany saw it in his eyes when Mavie declared it.

"You may" she nodded. Opening the door, Irri and Doreah nearly fell to her feet.

They had been listening to their conversation.

"Khaleesi, we were merely..." Doreah tried to explain.

Irri cleared her throat.

"Come to see if you needed something"

Dany smiled amused "I need you to call my kos, call for a meeting. Now. We must plan"

Soon her chambers were crowded with people. Aggo, Jhogo, Rakharo, Jorah, Doreah, Irri and Jhiqui, her council, and Mero. And her dragons. Drogon stood by her side, nearly as big and as tall as her now. A threatening presence to any in the chamber.

"As many of you know, my goal is to put an end to slavery in the continent. Yes, I know it might sound ambitious, might sound impossible, but I have done the impossible before and I can do it again. Now, I need to know what you know. Where should I start with this quest?"

"Taking over other khalasars to gain more warriors" Rakharo was the first to suggest " Jhaqo got most of Drogo's warriors, his death would give us an army big enough to threaten any city to cease the trading"

"That would not be enough" Doreah shook her head with a hint of sadness "Lys and Volantis, to say some cities, are far too dependant on it economically and the slavers will not let go of what they think it's theirs, even if it's people"

"The best way it is taking a city at a time, Khaleesi. I suggest Astapor, the Unsullied will—"

Dany cut Jorah's word with a hiss.

"I will not have slaves in my khalasar"

"If I may" Mero took a step towards her, mindful of Drogon "The Slaver's Bay is the key. They control the trade and train the slaves to sell. If what you wish for is to end slavery, you need to—"

"Nip it in the bud?"

Mero nodded slowly.

"Khaleesi" Jhiqui fidgeted with her braid as she spoke "It will take at least four moons to reach the Slaver's Bay, I believe that when we get there Drogon might be big enough to ride. They will be in awe"

"But we still need a bigger khalasar" Irri sighed.

Dany let out a breath, that much was true. They needed a bigger army, a bigger khalasar, they needed to stop the trade, they needed—

"I have an idea" 

Chapter Text

Robert was dying, and with him the peace of the Seven Kingdoms. If there was ever such a thing in Westeros. Loathed to admit it as he did, Littlefinger was right, war will follow and men without honor would side with whoever possessed more gold. In other words, house Lannister. 

Stannis might be the rightful heir, but few would support him. He was not well-liked, unlike Robert and Renly. The middle brother, always in the shadow of Robert and overshadowed by Renly. 

And then was Joffrey. The bastard son of Cersei and Jaime Lannister with no claim to the throne. A cruel boy not fit to rule.

Mayhaps if Tommen, or even Myrcella were the eldest, the claimants, I would prevent war by supporting them, but Joffrey...

Joffrey was not only cruel, but the closest to his Lannister mother. The other two were Lannister in looks, golden and green, but they were kind children. They could be taught to be good rulers. But not him.

Daenerys Targaryen is also a claimant; his mind provided.

She had named herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and she had dragons. Bigger now than dogs, according to Varys. Soon those three dragons would become deadly beasts as the ones who brought the world to heel centuries ago. And she was their master. Her khalasar grew as well, faster than anyone could imagine.

She had the warriors, the dragons, the name, but would she be a good queen?

She had been declared wiser than her age by Varys' informants, and kind, but he did not know how much of that was true. He would not trust the spider, or his spies's words blindly.

Is she not the rightful heir, after all? Jon is a bastard, and Stannis is further down the line of succession. The throne is hers.

It would not be hard for her to attain it, he wagered. Tyrell and Martell both would side with her without thinking twice, and her dragons would make all the other lords avoid becoming her enemies. Her hardest task would be introduce the Dothraki to Westeros.

But for now, she was on the other side of the Narrow Sea and Ned doubted she was to return any time soon.

Promise me, Ned.

He winced, tossing and turning in his bed, in the dead of the night. 

Promise me. Promisemepromiseme.

Groaning, he stood up. His leg burned, screaming at him to return to bed. And he would, but he had something to do first.

I made a promise to my sister; he thought while he carefully wrote certain words on a parchment; I made a promise to Jon.

He found Vayon Poole, who was awake as always, at every time. Sometimes he doubted the man as even human.

"Have this letter sent to Greywater Watch, to Howland Reed" he ordered.

"It will be done, my lord" Vayon nodded.

It will be done. I made a promise.

Chapter Text

It was hot there. The air was warm, too warm perhaps, but it did not bother him as much as it should. It did not bother him at all.

The green hills and tall grass that surrounded him was like nothing he had ever seen before. But it's beautiful all the same.

A shrill, a sound loud and sharp, —one that could break glass, he thought— bid his eyes to look up. And up, in the clear, cloudless blue sky was a shadow. A great shadow that moved across the sky with ease. Jon smiled.

His eyes snapped open, looking around the cell frenetically. Hoping to see green pastures and tall grass, but it was only that. His cell. It shouldn't be as disappointing as it was.

Ghost sighed by his side, in that way he did sometimes, his red eyes looking at him intensely.

"Yes. I shall get up"

He had to. There was no other choice.

It was hard to believe the words the Old Bear had just uttered. For it could not be. His lord father could not have committed treason. He was far too honourable. Honor was his compass. He would not do such a thing.

He fathered a bastard; a traitorous voice murmured; that's not very honourable, is it?

Before Jon could recover and say something someone knocked on the door of the Lord Commander's chambers.

"Damnit, I am occupied!" the Old Bear growled.

"This is more important, I wager!" the voice of the cruel knight, Alliser Thorne, shouted back.

The Lord Commander sighed, running a hand through his face.

"Jon, open the door"

He did. And mayhaps he should not have, for the knight that so much hate had in his heart scoffed.

"Lord Howland Reed is here, my Lord Commander" 

Jon stared at Alliser Thorne who all but sneered at him only for seeing him. Soon everyone would know of his lord father's supposed betrayal. — Absolutely everyone. News there flew — And Ser Alliser would be the first to mock him for it. To mock his family and the name he did not posses.

"Lord Reed?" the Lord Commander questioned with a raised eyebrow "What is he doing here?"

"He demands to speak with Jon Snow. Did not say more"

"Well, let the man in—"

"I already am" a small thin man appeared from behind Ser Alliser, having been previously hidden by the larger man's figure "I would wish to speak to him in private. I have a message from Lord Stark that I must deliver to him immediately"

Jon blinked confused. A message from his father? To him? Why? Had Robb received one as well? It would only be the logical thing to do, for he was his heir and his true born son, not Jon.

Never Jon.

And yet Jon wished that it was only for him.

The Lord Commander squinted his eyes at the crannogman, the lord of all of them.

"Take this room, my lord" he replied after a while "I have matters to attend outside and my steward's cell is far too small for both of you"

"I thank you for this Lord Commander" Howland Reed gave him a nod.

The Old Bear and Ser Alliser left the room, side-eying him as if he was about to commit high treason. He was not. He was a member of the Night's Watch. His vows had been said.

"What does my father wants you to tell me? Do you have a letter for me?"

"I have two" Lord Reed stared at Jon in some sort of wistful manner he could not quite comprehend "By the Gods, you look so much like your mother"

Those words, those very simple words, were enough to have him gulping. Have him freezing. Have him itching.

"My father...he bids you to tell me about my mother?"

Lord Reed sighed, taking a piece of parchment from beneath his cloak and handing it to him.

With unsteady hands, Jon grabbed it and read.

"It is not an easy thing to discover, I must warn you"

Despite his words, Jon focused on the letter.

"It is time for Jon to know the truth, you must tell him everything, you must show him proof. Tell him the story of Aemon Sand" he read out loud. It was his father's handwriting, he recognized it with ease "Aemon Sand? Who is that?"

"That is you, Jon"

And to those words, he could do nothing but chuckled.

"Why would they give me a Targaryen name? Why would I have a dornish bastard name?"

The conversation was getting more confusing by the second. More ridiculous by the second. Bu that was still his father's handwriting. The one in the letter.

"You were born in the Tower of Joy, in Dorne. That is where we find you when we came looking for your mother" Jon's breath hitched "We thought she had been kidnapped by the Prince, but when we took down the remaining Kingsguard, we learnt she had willingly ran away with him. That she had willingly bore him a child. That they were in love. But by then it was too late. Lyanna was dying of childbed fever and her last words were to make Lord Stark promise he would take care of you" Lord Reed looked around with displeasure "But I see he truly did not live up to his promise. Your mother would have hated having you here"

"Lyanna Stark? My...my mother?"

In his dreams she was always beautiful and kind and highborn. Like Lyanna Stark had been.

"Yes"

Jon let himself fall on a chair, bending over and holding his head in his hands. It was all too much. It was all a lie. His entire life had been a lie. His father, no, his uncle had lied to him. He had made him believe...

"Why didn't he tell me?" the question came in a small voice so unlike his own yet his all the same "Why did he lie? Why—?"

"He thought it was better that way. If Robert ever found out about your existence...Well, the man has been sending assassins after your aunt and late uncle since they were little children. He would have murdered you in the cradle, as they did your brother and sister"

It had not truly hit him until that moment who his father truly was. Who he had been. A Targaryen Prince. And heir to the Iron Throne. A man murdered by an usurper. An Usurper who later condoned the murder of his little children and innocent wife.

Gods, I had a brother and a sister and they...they were murdered by the Lannisters and Robert did nothing about it. He was most likely glad, even. As he was glad when my grandmother died, another innocent woman. Everyone knows he hated Targaryens and even babes were not safe from his loathing. And Lord Stark allowed it...he let him.

Jon knew rage, he was familiar with it, but he was not familiar with that sort of rage. One that felt generational, in a way, inherited and fucking ancient. And one that felt too burning to come from his mother's side.

He stood up furious, and walked towards Howland Reed, who held another parchment on his hands. Outside, he heard Ghost howl.

"What is this?! More letters from Lord Stark? I do not want them!"

Reed shook his head.

"No, not from him. From your mother" Stare at the parchment he did, trying to process the words through his anger. Fighting with his rage to have it settle and be able to read that. To focus on that "She wrote it some time before dying. I kept it. It is for you, about you"

My mother...a letter from my mother.

Bidding himself to calm down, succeeding in it, Jon grabbed the new letter, but he did not read this one out loud. Could not bring himself to. Even if Howland Reed had already read it, even if he knew the content, it was still something written for him.

Dear Aemon or Visenya, my dear child, in this trying times I write to you out of fear. Your father is away fighting for his crown and that of your brother. I hope I get to tell you this story in person, once you are a wondering child or a man or woman grown, but just in case I will write it. I want you to know that I love you. Your father and I love you very much. That we have plans for you. And that being a bastard is nothing to be ashamed of, no matter what they say. Through your veins runs the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Brandon the Builder. You are of the blood of the First Men and Old Valyria. You will be great, and you do not need wedded parents to be so. But I hope to tell you this when you are old enough.

I love you.

Your mother.

 

 

 

The tears fell from his eyes like water from the sky in early autumn. 

Mayhaps he should be questioning all of this more. Mayhaps he should think Lord Reed was lying. But why would he? Why would he lie to him? What importance did he have to be lied about something such? Truly, why would anyone want to lie to a bastard at the Wall?

A Targaryen bastard. Prince Rhaegar's bastard.

If someone had any interest in him would be because of who his father truly was. For even as Ned Stark's bastard he was inconsequential. But as a Targaryen bastard, as a dragonseed...he was worth something. And that meant Lord Reed was telling the truth. If recognising his father — no. Not father. He never was — uncle's handwriting was not enough proof, that was 

Jon carefully folded his mother's letter, scared he might tear the parchment, and stored it in his chest, near his heart, kept in place by layers of clothing. Then he wiped out his tears and stared at Lord Reed. Anger still warming his blood. Rage still fighting to come out and take charge of him.

"What were they like? My parents. Prince Rhaegar and the Lady Lyanna..my lord father and lady mother"

Lord Stark never spoke of his sister, and no one ever spoke of Rhaegar Targaryen, not in the North. But Jon needed to know.

A sliver of a smile appeared in the crannogman's face.

"Oh, Lyanna she was... willful, strong and kind. She was my friend. She was good" the way he spoke of her, with so much reverence, with so much feeling. He missed her "And I did not know Prince Rhaegar first hand, but everything I heard about him. He...he was a good man. Beloved by the smallfolk and the lords alike. A beautiful man, as only those of the blood of the dragon can be, who loved singing. We heard him sing in Harrenhal, Lyanna and I, she cried after the song was over for so beautiful it was. I think that was when he caught her eye"

Jon clenched his fists. It sounded like the beginning of one of those songs Sansa loved so much, but it had ended in tragedy. It ended in death. The death of both his parents and the ruin of his father's house. The murder of his siblings and the rise of an Usurper. Yet there was some alive still.

Daenerys Targaryen lives.

She was his family, was she not? His aunt, even if she was younger than him. Ever if he was just a bastard. He could go to her and stop along the way to see Robb and Bran.

And that is it, is it not? I have decided. I will break my vows.

Was it truly breaking his vows? Vows he had made under a name that was not truly his. Therefore vows that were not truly his.

"I need to leave this place" he declared, more to himself than to Lord Reed.

The man did not seem surprised in the slightest.

"Well, then I know you are your mother's son indeed"

Every little mention of his mother broke him a little bit, and in the end he would have to create something new with all the broken pieces of what he used to be. Something that was not built in lies. Something real.

Is this why I dreamt of a dragon?

"I will leave with you, my lord. Just allow me to gather my things and Ghost. It should not take long"

Lord Reed nodded "I shall wait for you down at the beginning of the Kingsroad. I am certain, your cousin will be most pleased to see you"

Jon — no, not Jon, not anymore — hoped he would be, but much doubted anything could please Robb when his father was being held as a prisoner in King's Landing. And Lady Stark will surely not be pleased. That woman loathed him for the crime of being born a bastard.

Lord Reed and him left the Lord Commander's Keep and parted ways once their feet touched the snow. Ghost was awaiting for him there, at the door. Lord Reed didn't comment on it, choosing instead to ignore Ghost's red gaze on him. He showed no fear at all, unlike so many others. It was interesting to say the least. There were some who said crannogmen could speak to animals. Not that he believed it, but it surely would explain it.

Or mayhaps he is just a brave man. After all he did fight the Kingsguard in his youth.

But those were not things he wished to think about, they were things that clawed their way into his mind. 

He did not wish to think how if those men had been in the Trident the moment his father — his real father — fought Robert he might've lived. His siblings would still be alive even if his mother was not. His father's house would still stand. So why did he not take those three Kingsguard with him? Why did the heir to the throne left them in Dorne? For his mother? Did he fear what could happen to his mother? 

He went to his cell followed by Ghost, avoiding everyone, taking advantage that they were all busy with their duties, and gathered his thing. He had almost nothing.

Yet, as he was readying himself to leave, he could not stop wondering about his true parents.

Lord Reed had said they had fallen in love, and while he did not doubt it to be truth, not truly, it was still hard to believe. Hard to believe that his other uncle and maternal grandsire had died because of a lie.

Whose lie?

"Lord Snow" as always, Alliser Thorne stared at him with barely concealed disdain "Maester Aemon wishes to see you, boy"

Aemon.

The maester of Castle Black had the same name as him. The same name his mother and father had given him. A Targaryen name. Such an odd coincidence.

Ghost followed him to the keep that held the rookery. Maester Aemon and the Lord Commander were both in the keep, chatting under the rookery at he light of a hearth. The old maester sat on a chair with a blanket thrown over his knees.

"Did you wish to see me, Maester?"

"Has Lord Reed delivered the message from Lord Stark?" The Lord Commander asked before Maester Aemon could answer him "What did it say?"

"Nothing of great matter to anyone but myself, my lord"

"Is that so?" the Old Bear raised an eyebrow. He say nothing else, it was for the best to keep quiet. When the Lord Commander realized he was not gonna utter a word he hummed "Well, I shall take my leave and return to my chambers and hope for you to make the right choice. Deserters have a punishment doled out for them"

He said it with a certain sadness, as if the notion of having to execute him was something tragic. The Old Bear passed by a quiet, yet staring Ghost who had followed him inside.

"I heard you might want to leave us to help your family, Jon" maester Aemon, it seemed, did not find any usefulness in idle chit-chat. Neither did he, so for that he was grateful. He felt far too impatient, and over the place to stand talking about nothing "I cannot say that such thought has never crossed my mind, I fear"

"Truly?"

If he was asking was because it was truly hard to picture. The man was s hundred name days old, he had spent far more time in the Wall than anyone ever had. Mayhaps even more than anyone ever would.

"Oh, yes" the old man nodded, looking without seeing to the fire. There was a sadness in him, in his milk-white eyes and his wrinkled face "I was even resolved to leave and go fight for my house, alas, I was already an old man then and word of what befall to them, to my once-mighty house, reached me before I could do anything. The fall of my house!" Maester Aemon lamented "The dying of my dynasty!"

He held his breath.

A once-mighty house. A man named Aemon. The fall of a house, a dynasty. He is a Targaryen. He shares my blood. He does....Is this why I dreamt of a dragon?

"You are a Targaryen" It was not a question.

"I once was" he smiled sadly "I was once Prince Aemon Targaryen, son of Maekar and Dyanna Dayne. Brother to Egg...Aegon fifth of his name" his face contorted and he sighed "Jon, did you ever wonder why the men of the Night's Watch take no wives and father no children?"

"No" he could not say much else. Too surprised by the confession "Why is it?"

It was not something he thought about it. Not something he cared to think about. Especially not in that moment.

"So they will not love, for love is the bane of honor, the death of duty. What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms ... or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy. My great tragedy too Jon. As is yours. Oh, I see her in my dreams. Daenerys, the great granddaughter of my younger brother, Egg. I see her in Essos, in the Dothraki Sea. I see a bleeding red star in the sky. I still remember..."

"And dragons?" he asked, still on his place near the master. Near the man that was his family too "Do you see dragons?"

"Always Jon. Always" maester Aemon shook his head, a lone tear falling from his right eye "My brothers dreamed of dragons and so do I. So did Rhaegar—"

The mention of his father made his heart stop. Or at least, he thought that much.

"And so do I" he finished "So does she, I wager. Daenerys"

My aunt.

"What are you saying, Jon?" he strayed his gaze from the fire.

"That is not my name. That is not the name I was given at my mother's breast. My name is Aemon" he dared to say out loud, to someone else. And somehow, saying it made him feel a little more real "Aemon Sand. You have no reason to believe this maester, and if I were on your place I do not think I would believe it either but I am Rhaegar's and Lyanna's baseborn son"

Aemon — for he was no longer Jon — could not fathom why he confessed such truths to the old maester. But he felt like he needed to.

Maester Aemon stood up from his chair with the help of his blackthorn cane.

"It is you" the maester let out a breath and walked towards him with a firmness that stunned Aemon "Gods be good. I thought...I had thought that you were dead"

"What? I do not understand"

Maester Aemon's wrinkled hand cupped his cheek at the same time as more tears sprung from his eyes. But those were not of sadness, for he was smiling.

"Rhaegar, he...he wrote to me. He wrote to me since he was a young boy until some moons before his death. He told me, told me of his love for the Lady Lyanna Stark. Of their escape and their child. He wished to name the child after me, if he was a boy. And he was. You were"

His own eyes became glassy, blurring his vision with tears.

"He wrote to you? My father"

Master Aemon stepped away, still smiling, still joyful. He moved to a desk near the hearth.

"I always wondered, you know, what occurred to the child and a part of me always knew, I think, that it was you. Ned Stark's bastard son. The honourable Ned Stark fathered a bastard and brought him from Dorne alongside his sister's bones, a sister I knew was with child at some point. I...yes" he did not seem to need any help searching for something in the drawers of the desk. There were letters, all enrolled as a parchment so a raven could carry them. There had to be a least a dozen of then when the old maester returned to Aemon's side and handed them to him "Here, here. Take them. You must take them. They are from your father, from Rhaegar"

He took them, and as he had done with his mother's letter, he kept them near his heart.

"Lord Reed is waiting for me to leave. We are going to Winterfell, and when my uncle is safe back in the North I shall sail East, to find Daenerys"

"Then you must go at once!"

He knew. He did.

"Do you not wish to come with us?"

Maester Aemon shook his head.

"I wish, but I will only be a burden. I am far too old now to travel across continents. So you must do it for me. You must find her for me. Keep her company. Be with her. She cannot be alone. She cannot be without her family"

And neither can I.

"I swear that I shall bring her to Westeros, so you can meet her"

At the the old man chuckled.

"And so it is my duty to keep myself alive" he patted his arm "Come now, namesake and wolf, I shall accompany you to the Tower of Guards"

Aemon and Ghost followed maester Aemon at his own pace, walking at a slow pace. Castle Black was deserted and awfully quiet. There was not a soul to be seen. None, until they reached the Tower of Guards. Then they were all there, waiting for him. The Lord Commander, Alliser Thorne, Sam, Donal Noye, Pyp, Grenn, Dareon, Toad, Jeren, Stoney and Pimple. 

"We wish only for safe passage to return to Winterfell" Lord Reed said with a sigh "No one needs be hurt"

"A deserter does" Alliser hissed.

Ghost growled at him, readying himself to lunge against anyone who tried to attack him. That had almost everyone taking a few steps back.

"You cannot leave, Jon" Sam begged, nervously playing with his fingers. Scared of what would happen if he left "You cannot. Please do not"

"He cannot, Sam" the Old Bear agreed "Jon Snow swore an oath"

"Tis true, my lord" Aemon toyed with the handle of his sword. Just in case. "Jon Snow swore an oath, but Aemon Sand did no such thing"

"Aemon Sand?" Jeor Mormont repeated dumbfounded, only to turn to the maester "What is the meaning of this?"

"Let him go, Jeor. His destiny is bigger than ours. Let my nephew go, I beg of you" and yet, even begging, he did not lose an ounce of composure "He must leave"

"I swore an oath under a false name. While living a false life. If I am meant to die for it, let the Gods decide"

The Lord Commander closed his eyes.

"Aemon! Aemon! Aemon!" croaked his crow, flapping its dark wings.

"Then so be it!" he grumbled "Leave my sight, leave the Wall at once!"

"No, no, Jon" Sam sobbed.

Jon hugged his friend, trying to give him some of his own courage "Take care of my uncle, Maester Aemon. Take care of yourself. You are braver than you know"

When he stepped back, everyone had dispersed, no longer were they surrounding him. Lord Reed had two horses ready for them to leave. Yet Alliser Thorne was still staring at him without saying a word.

"Safe travels, namesake" the maester smiled softly "Everyone here will know soon, you must know that. Jeor understands already"

Aemon shrugged.

"I see no harm in that. The Night's Watch sides with no king and no queen. But I must" he climbed on top of his horse "Remember to live, uncle"

The old maester smirked.

"I shall"

He spurred the horse, with Alliser's gaze still on him, and followed Lord Reed. They would reach Winterfell in a week. Ghost ran after them, sometimes before them, and Aemon could swear the sky was bluer than before.

Chapter Text

It had been surprisingly easy, surprisingly simple, for him to refer to himself by another name. To see himself as another person. One so different, yet so alike, to the one he had once been. 

Aemon.

Aemon Sand.

That was his name. His true name. The name his parents gave him. His true parents. Prince Rhaegar and Lady Lyanna Stark. It was so simple to believe, to believe the letters, the words of Lord Howland and his own dreams of dragons. It was as if, that was the truth he had been waiting to hear his whole life. That his mother had been highborn and beautiful, that his father would not have allowed him to join the Night's Watch. That his father would have given him something, lands, a keep, a lordship. That he would have, mayhaps, been an advisor to his brother. Maybe even wed some highborn lady. 

In his letters, for Aemon had read every single one of his father's letters on their way to Winterfell, his father had expressed his desire to have more children by his mother. And even wished to wed him to a daughter of theirs.

Mayhaps I could have even have wed Daenerys. If Rhaenys was to be Aegon's bride, and Viserys Arianne Martell’s consort, he might have wanted to wed her to me. To keep her safe within the family.

The thought was not unpleasant. Targaryens had their customs, and it was not unprecedented in the North either to wed someone as close in the family as an aunt. And according to Howland, Daenerys was a remarkable girl. The rumours of her feats were heard even in Greywater Watch. 

“She killed her husband during the wedding, a Dothraki horselord, poisoned him” Howland had said “And when she was burnt at the pyre of said man, she hatched three dragon eggs and was reborn amongst the ashes. She is a Khalessi now, on her own right, she is in Vaes Dothrak, I hear”

Aemon thought that maybe that was the place he had dreamt of, where he had seen the black dragon. Daenerys had three, according to the rumours, surely one of hers was black. Like Aegon's had been.

An omen.

Of what? He did not know.

“What is it that you will tell your cousin?” Howland asked when they were one day away from Winterfell.

“The truth” Aemon answered as they rode down the Kingsroad with Ghost by their side “What else is there to say? If Robert is dead, why should I hide still? No one will seek to murder me”

“Mayhaps not that” Howland looked at him “But some might try to put you on the throne, arguing in favour of your blood, plunging the Realm into war once again”

Aemon had thought of that, frequently in the last few days, but he had made a choice on that subject. He was just a bastard, his aunt was the true heir. She should be on the throne, not him, not the Lannisters, not the Baratheons.

“I will not allow it. The throne is my aunt's”

“You need not to allow it, it will end up happening. Such is the way of the world”

Aemon looked at Ghost, who locked his red eyes with his grey ones.

I have a direwolf, my aunt has three dragons, something tells me the world is what we can make of it

He wished to say. He didn't.

“The world can change” Aemon said instead “And I cannot lie to Robb of all people”

Or Arya.

He wondered about his little cousin, little sister. She was in King’s Landing, with his uncle. Held hostage by the Lannisters. He wished he could go and save her. He wished he had a dragon to fly over the capital and take her home.

Mayhaps, if they were lucky, it needn't come to that.

“Then do not” Howland answered “But do make sure to tell him that it is a secret. That he cannot tell anyone” 

Aemon would do that, but not because Lord Howland told him so, but because it was his plan all along. He would only speak the truth of his birth to his aunt, and then he would tell after she took the throne back. If that was her wish. He believed it would be.

“I shall” 

“Do you reckon your cousin shall receive you with open arms?”

Aemon tasked.

“Robb and Bran will, but Lady Stark will not”

Lady Stark loathed him. She always had, always would. A fool’s hope was his, that one day she would not do so, for one day she would know the truth. One day she would know Lord Stark never betrayed her and that all her hatred towards him was completely useless. He hoped she deeply regretted it then, that it would hurt her when she knew, but that was that: A fool’s hope.

“Lady Stark is not in Winterfell” Lord Howland said “But in the Vale of Arryn”

The Kingsroad began to widen, to turn better cared for and less a mere dirt road caved in the ground. They were approaching Winterfell. Home. Or what once had been home.

“Why?”

“I do not know all the details, but Lady Stark was seen in the Riverlands, where she took Tyrion Lannister as prisoner, she believed him to have sent assassins after her second son”

“Is Lord Tyrion alive?”

Tyrion had not sent assassins after Bran, that much Aemon knew, he was not that kind of man. He was his friend.

“As far as I know, Lady Stark took him to the Vale, where he won a trial by combat. So, I would say, he lives”

Aemon sighed relieved.

“Good”

“Do you know him? It is odd for anyone other than a Lannister to like the Lannisters”

“I do not like the Lannisters” least of all now that he knew everything. But Tyrion was not to blame for what occurred to his siblings. He was a child then “But Tyrion is my friend”

“I do hope that friendships serves you to get your cousins and uncle back home unharmed”

Aemon nodded silently, he had hoped for the same.

They were at the Gates of Winterfell before nightfall. And the guards at the door granted them entrance as soon as they saw Ghost.

Winterfell was not quite as he remembered, mayhaps because of the many people that found themselves there. The camps surrounding the fortress, the full rooms in hospices in Wintertown and every single room of the castle being occupied.

Every man he passed by stared at him, and he passed by many a man. Aemon guessed that it was because of how big Ghost had gotten in the last moons.

The Great Hall of the fortress was where he found Robb. Where he found everyone. Every single Lord of the North seemed to be there.

“Lord Howland Reed, my Lord” one of the servants announced when they found themselves at the doors “And Jon Snow”

Aemon’s jaw clenched when he heard that name. He had known that name as his own for fifteen years, yet hearing it now, after everything he now knew, felt jarring. Wrong.

Robb sat on the throne of the Kings of Winter, their ancestors, with a sword on his lap. Greywind sat by his side, golden eyes catching Ghost's own red eyes the moment they entered the hall. When he saw Aemon, his eyes widened as a smile appeared on his face. Robb jumped to stand up and walked to him. That gesture seemed to make Greywind sure that he could greet his brother. The grey direwolf lunged against his brother and bit his neck with a playful growl. Ghost responded in kind, closing his jaws on the fur and flesh of Greywind. 

The lords stared at the direwolves with guarded expressions, but Aemon knew they were ready to unsheath their swords if necessary. They did not trust them. And if they did not trust direwolves, he did not want to know how they would react to his aunt's dragons.

Howland bowed his head respectfully towards Robb, but his cousin all but ignored him, choosing instead to hug Aemon.

“Snow” he greeted against his shoulders.

Sand — he wished to respond.

“Stark” he greeted back, hugging him as well.

When Robb stepped back, he was smiling, but recovered his lord-like expression just a few seconds later.

“Lord Howland” his voice was so serious he did not even sound like Robb at all “I did not think you would come. Much less you, Jon. Have you been sent to recruit more members for the Night’s Watch, I thought apprentices did not do that”

Oh, how to say what I mean to say?

"And they do not" Robb frowned, noticing his choice of words "I must speak to you, it is urgent. Somewhere private, if we can"

"Of course, brother" Robb slapped his arm before turning to the servants "Bring Lord Reed bread, cheese, salt and wine. He has come to claim his seat at the table"

Aemon stared at Howland with a raised eyebrow, but small lord just shrugged and accepted what Robb offered.

It was then, when Robb walked away, when Rodrik Castel and Maester Luwin approached him. The master-at-arms of Winterfell smiled wistfully at Aemon.

"I did not think I would ever see you again" neither did I "but I am glad to see you well. You have grown. Almost a man now, like Lord Robb"

Aemon snorted. Lord Robb.

"Only a finger or two" in truth, he was now taller than Robb himself, he had noticed such during the hug. He wondered how tall his father had been "Maester Luwin"

Far from receiving him with the same enthusiasm as Rodrik, the maester squinted his eyes at Aemon.

"Indeed, apprentices are not allowed away at this side of the Wall. Then why are you here, Jon?"

The old man's words were heard by far too many of the northern lords, who turned their heads and left their conversations to look at Aemon. He tensed, but it was not visible under the layers and layers of clothing. Best that way. Ghost, noticing his nerves, stopped playing with Greywind to go by his side.

"That much I am to discuss with Robb" he told the maester, who still stared at him with suspicion.

Did he know? Did Maester Luwin know the truth about his parentage? He was trusted by his uncle and Lady Stark, but how much was he trusted? Enough to know a secret not even Lady Stark knew?

No.

No.

He did not know. His uncle would not be foolish enough to trust him as much. Maesters were sworn to keep secrets, but Aemon much doubted they did so. He wagered many a raven had flown from a lord's castle to the Citadel bearing more than innocent questions. They were in every castle, and knew almost every lord's secret. Which was concerning, indeed, and if his house still stood, he would ask his father to investigate on that. But as things were, he had no father, and his house's hopes laid in Essos. So Aemon had no time to dwell on that.

"Come, brother" Robb nodded with his head towards the stairs.

Aemon followed him and he was followed by both direwolves.

"How is Bran faring?"

"Well, very well" answered his cousin as they walked through the hallways of Winterfell "What your Lannister friend did for Bran...that helped him smile again, being able to ride"

Aemon smiled, it gladdened his heart that Bran was better. That he was not so sad.

"Where is he now?"

"In the Godswood with Summer, most likely"

"I'll go see him later, after our conversation is finished"

Last time he saw Bran he was laying unconscious on his bed and Lady Stark...

It does not matter. What she thinks or says about me. It matters not.

Robb's bedchambers were one of the biggest in Winterfell. Because of course they were, he was the heir. The future lord of that castle, of those lands. As Aemon could never be. But he could be something else.

"What is it that you wished to tell me?"

Aemon closed the door, leaving the two direwolves guarding the door. Just in case.

The letters were safe within his cloak, close to his heart, but the time to reveal them had arrived. The only thing he could do now was hope for the best. Aemon took off the heavy bear pelt, placing it on a chair. The twelve letters were warm from the contact with his skin under the clothing. Robb watched him with a confused gleam in his Tully-blue eyes and was hesitant to pick up one of the letters when Aemon handed it to him. It was Lord Stark's. The one written so Howland would tell him the truth.

"I don't understand?" Robb shook his head and looked at him "Aemon Sand...? Who is that?

He steeled himself and let out a breath.

"That is me, Robb"

His cousin, the cousin he had grown up thinking a brother, stared at him dumbfounded for a few agonizing seconds before chuckling.

"Very amusing, Jon" another chuckle "I must say I was not expecting such jest from you but I suppose the Wall has changed your solemn character"

His eyes rolled almost on its own.

"I am not playing the jester, Stark!" he exclaimed, already weary of that conversation "I am the baseborn son of Lady Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. And I am trusting you with this information"

Robb frowned, looking down to the letter.

"It is father's handwriting but...how would you...why...? I do not understand" Robb gasped another laugh "It is impossible"

"Is it?" Aemon stepped forward "Think on it. Lord Stark is honourable, yet from Dorne he brought not only his sister's bones but a babe. A sister who died of unknown causes. A sister who had been previously kidnapped by Prince Rhaegar"

"But father says nothing of that in this letter" Robb babbled, but in his eyes he could see that he was beginning to believe and that was terrifying him "How...how do you know?"

"Howland Reed, he was there, in the Tower of Joy, he saw my mother die, he told me everything"

His cousin swallowed, as if understanding the truth was too much for him. Aemon could understand. He had been there, in a way.

"And you believe him? Howland Reed? How trustworthy is he?"

"Lord Stark trusts him. He sent him the letter" Aemon took the letter from his hand "And it's not only that. Maester Aemon, the older brother of Aegon the fifth, gave me this letters that Prince Rhaegar sent him" those he showed, but did not allow Robb to touch "They speak of how much he loved my mother, Lady Lyanna, of how they escaped and the letter they left, of when she fell with child—"

"A letter?" Robb tried to take one of his father's letter, but Aemon stepped back to avoid it "They left no letter"

"My father writes they did" he said clenching the parchments close to his heart "In the Riverlands. Riverrun"

"That cannot be true, Jon. Father never said anything about a letter, nor did King Robert, he must have lied"

A warm rage bloomed in his chest, similar to the one he had felt a week ago towards Lord Stark.

"Why would he? Why would he lie in a letter to his great uncle? No. My father did not lie, someone must have taken the letter"

"Jon—"

"Aemon!" he growled "My name is Aemon"

"Fine" Robb raised his hands, defeated "Someone must have taken the letter. But who? And why?"

For that, Aemon had no answer. He wanted to know, of course he did, but where to begin to investigate? And when to do it? He had to travel to Essos, to find his aunt, but before he had to get his uncle back safely, most likely fight some battles. He had to—

"I was not there, and no one I know has an answer to that"

"I simply....How are you so sure?" 

He sighed.

"Robb, my whole life has been as if I was not who I was told I was. Like something was not right. And now I... everything makes sense" and everything I went through was unfair, but that I knew already "I am not Jon Snow. I am not Lord Eddard Stark's bastard, nor a member of the Night's Watch. I am Aemon Sand, a dragonseed, and my fate lays beyond the Narrow Sea"

"You are leaving for Essos?" Robb whispered, as if harmed by the information.

"Not yet. But once Lord Stark and the girls are home safe, I will" he declared confidently "I must find my aunt"

"Are you searching for her dragons?"

"I'm searching for my family"

"I am your family. Me, Bran, Rickon, Arya and Sansa. Father. You cannot... you're one of us"

Then how come he had never felt that way?

"You are" he nodded, trying to reassure him "But so is she. And she is alone. She has more need for me than any of you do"

"She styles herself as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, did you know?"

Aemon shrugged. Why was that important to Robb? He could understand if Lord Stark was bothered by it, it had been a Targaryen King who killed his father and brother, but even then he wouldn't have excused it. Daenerys Targaryen was not her father, just like Prince Rhaegar, his own father, hadn't been.

"She ought to. It's her birthright"

Robb raised his eyebrows, surprised by his words, mayhaps.

"So, if it comes to that, you will help her reclaim the Iron Throne?"

"I will"

For her and for me.

He wanted to restore his family's glory, of course, and help Daenerys to come back home, but it was more than that. If he was helpful enough, if he devoted himself to her, mayhaps she would give him an station and he would be more than what is now.

Robb let out a breathy chuckle.

"Jo-Aemon, they are mad. You know the saying: Every time a Targaryen is born the Gods flip a coin and the world holds its breath"

Aemon, carefully folded the papers as he shook his head, and put the letters back against his heart and clothing.

"We studied history together, we both now that that is not the complete truth. And besides, should you not worry about me then, about yourself? The Starks are hardly sane, or have you forgotten that one of our ancestors burned our entire fleet because he was grieving"

He had a lot of time to think about that during the journey to Winterfell.

Robb scratched his head.

"Will you come back then? See us again?"

"Of course" it sounded like a promised "And you can always write to me, wether I'm in Essos or in King's Landing after the taking—"

"You're so confident she will win" there was a strange glint in Robb's eyes and a sliver of a smile on his lips.

"She is clever and has three dragons"

"Baby dragons, they might not grow"

"They will grow" of that he was sure. He had seen it. "And many houses ought to side with her once she lands in these shores. Tully and Tyrell, to name some"

"Why?"

"Because it was our ancestor, Aegon, who gave house Tully and house Tyrell their paramount lordship"

Robb looked down.

"Always forget about that" he murmured, more to himself than to Aemon "J-Aemon, the people, the northern lords will not take it well. Not the truth about your parentage, I do not believe that would provoke them given the love story painted by the letters, but you said the Night's Watch doesn't allow trainees to cross to this side...Have you sworn the oath?"

"Under a false name and a false life. I was given leave to abandon the Wall by the Lord Commander and my great-uncle, Maester Aemon"

For a while, Robb stood there, looking at him in silence. Aemon wished there was some magic to read thoughts.

"Gods" he said after the silence had lasted longer than usual "They cannot know. We will say that you had not sworn the oath, and talk about the truth to no one"

"My thoughts exactly" it was as if a weight had been lifted off his chest, now that everything was talked and understood. Relief, that was the word to describe what he felt "I will go to see Bran"

"Do so, I have things to attend now" Robb sounded somehow solemn.

How long had he been practicing that tone in front of the mirror?

"I will see you at dinner" his cousin only nodded.

Ghost and Greywind sat at either side of the door of Robb's chambers. Guarding. Waiting. Their heads turned when they saw him, at the same time. Aemon ran his fingers through their fur, one hand petting each.

"Bastard!" Theon Greyjoy was one of the things he had not missed of Winterfell. He and Lady Stark were on the top of his mislike list "Returning from the Wall, have we? Are you an oathbreaker now, Snow?"

Sand, he wished to shout, but only clenched his jaw. It was always best to avoid Theon, else his rage will come over the arrogant son of a Greyjoy Lord, and that would not end well. Not for Theon, at least. He was skilled with the bow and arrow, but Aemon outmatched him with the sword.

"No. I never pronounced the words. So I was free to leave whenever. Others did not have my luck" he lied with ease, as if it was a second tongue.

Mayhaps it was. After all, that was what Lord Stark had done the whole duration of Aemon's life.

Greyjoy raised his eyebrows, a smug smirk he wished to punch decorated his face.

"Am I suppose to believe that?"

Aemon was not shaken by his words. None of the lords would believe them. After all, he was an Ironborn.

"Believe what you will. I care not" a maid passed by their sides, a pretty one to whom Theon nearly grabbed for his own amusement, but Ghost growled, warning the older boy "I take it my bedchambers are still empty" the maid nodded at his words, completely unaware of Theon's intentions. She looked like she was merely trying to get through the day "Draw me a hot bath then. I will go to the Godswood, but I'll soon return"

The maid nodded again, completely inexpressive. Aemon assumed she was tired, which came as no surprise given the hall full of lords she had to serve.

He didn't bother saying anything else to Theon. They had never gotten along. Theon was simply too arrogant, and that was not even justified. He was the son of a man whose rebellion failed, whose elder sons and people died during said rebellion. The Greyjoys had never been particularly great or notorious beyond their islands, and even in the Iron Islands there were more notorious families. Their customs were downright disgusting and their home a bunch of rocks. Aemon didn't see the pride in that.

Ghost followed him down to the Godswood, where soon he was met with Summer. He saw the direwolf way before he saw Bran, but still he was found.

Bran was sitting against a heart tree, various pelts thrown over him and Hodor walking around the Godswood murmuring his name to himself.

"Jon!" Bran's blue eyes shone when they fell on him "You're here! I thought you were at the Wall?"

Aemon kneeled in front of him and hugged his little cousin. He was safe and alive, instead of the small, pale body laying on the bed that he had been last time.

"I never took my vows, so when I heard about Lord Stark I rode here to join Robb and bring him and the girls back"

A half-truth. A half-lie.

"So you will stay then?" he asked, wide-eyed and full of childish wonder, but it soon changed to an infinite sadness "And you will leave again"

Aemon gulped.

"Yes" Bran's eyes turned glassy "But I will return, with all the family"

Daenerys included.

"You promise?"

"I promise" those words came with ease, despite tasting like a lie "And once we are together again I'll see to it that you get to see the South"

Bran nodded, sad still, yet with a sliver of a smile in his face.

"I wish to see all of it" his little cousin declared somehow haughtily.

"Well, you can ride again now, so you will. It is only matter of time" Aemon looked around. Hodor kept murmuring his name "I must take a bath now, but I will see you at dinner"

"Yes, do so, you stink" Bran wrinkled his nose.

Aemon shoved him lightly against the tree, but his cousin just laughed.

The servants were still filling the tub with smoking hot water when he and Ghost got to his chambers.

"Thank you. You can retire now" he told them when the big copper tub was full.

The servants bowed at the same time and abandoned the bedchamber. Ghost laid quietly on the floor as Aemon undressed himself. His skin was only warmed by the hot springs beneath Winterfell when he put his father's letters, his mother's one and Lord Stark's safe in a box.

He needed them to proof to his aunt that he was who he said he was. He needed them, if not only for that. And that was all that he knew.

Chapter Text

The Red Waste was upon them. Irri could feel it without going with the scouts to know where they must stop and hunt before crossing such dead soil. They would soon leave the lands of the lamb men and venture into the cursed lands. Irri feared them, as many other riders did, but Khalessi was not dissuaded, she wished to Astapor without passing by the other cities first. Irri did not understand why, Khalessi spoke to no one of it. She had a plan, of course, but what was the plan? 

Irri had no answer. No one did.

The hills of the lamb men were, at least, full of animals they could hunt for their journey across the Red Waste. Many were already preparing, Eroeh had boiled water and filled many pelts with it for safe keeping, for there was nothing but death in those red lands. That was her duty, and that of many other women who were now free under the Khalessi's rule. But Irri had other obligations.

She pulled the bowstring and shot, in the distance a rabbit fell dead. Irri smiled, lowering the bow. It was the third rabbit she hunted that day. It should be enough to feed them, what she caught and what others did, during the few weeks the crossing would take.

Behind her she heard a snort. But, Irri didn't turn around, nor did she responded to Orro's disdain, instead she went to grab the dead rabbit. The tall grass tickling her knees as she advanced.

"Is that the best you can do?" the rider asked with a scoff.

A tall warrior by the name of Orro was the one bothering her, but Irri did not dignified his mockery with an answer. That bothered him, she could see in the way he frowned his lips, making his ringed mustache move.

"I am talking to you, woman!" he roared.

"Leave her be, Orro"  Jhogo warned him a few steps away, his back turned to where they had camped two days ago. The tents of various colours, stood up amongst the tall grass of the other hill. Irri could see the rest of the khalasar doing their jobs from up there "Least you wish for an arrow in your heart"

"The Khalessi would not allow it" Orro complained "She is soft. Doesn't allow any killing in the khalasar"

She wishes only to keep us safe, Irri wished to scream.

She did not.

Jhogo shrugged, a smile decorating his face.

"Khalessi likes her better than she does you. If you are willing to make a fool of yourself, even in death, then go ahead"

Irri stared at Orro as relentlessly as her father would have in her place. Her long dead father.

Orro lowered his gaze, scoffed and left, walking back to the other hill. To the camp.

Irri tied the three rabbits together and threw then in the wicker basket to carry them back. The bow on one shoulder, the strap of the basket around the other.

"We should return" she said.

"Do you believe all that to be enough?" Jhogo scratched the shadow of a mustache he was trying to grow "The Red Waste is a cursed land. What if it kills us?"

Irri did not think the red land could do something like that.

"Khalessi believes it will all go well and we have been accumulating meat and water for the last week. Trust her. Trust her mind and choices. I know I do. We will reach Astapor sooner than we believe"

"I do" he replied, but he sounded nervous. They walked down the hill and up to the other "I just wish she took a flight on her beast already, the new riders are getting restless. They do not like being lead by a woman, as strong as the Khalessi is, they don't believe in her."

Irri pursed her lips.

"They have no faith. But what they like is if no consequence. Soon, the Khalessi will mount Drogon"

"Better be soon, they do not like her rules"

Many of them, Irri included, had had to separate riders and protect women from them, but it had happened. A woman had been raped, once who had been a slave. The rider who did it got his cock cut off, the Khalessi had made an example out of him. But the men were stubborn and set in their ways, and foolish too, they would try again. They would try again despite the two dragons of the size of horses and one even bigger that followed their Khalessi almost everywhere.

"They do not have to like them, only obey them. But once she flies, it all change"

It was the first thing one saw from above the other hills, the pale golden dragon flying around the camp. The green one laying curled next the Khalessi's tent and the bigger one with her, training down to the river.

The terrible black and red one was bigger than their biggest stallion, but the Khalessi hadn't mounted him yet. Irri did not know why.

Mayhaps she feared the dragon, who grew more fearsome and his fire hotter each day. He was always ready for battles. But, no, it was not that. The Khalessi still hugged her fearsome child-dragon and talked to him with smiles. She did with all three. So it was not fear what was stopping her.

"Put this with the rest of the meat" she handed Jhogo the basket  "I must go to see Khalessi Daenerys"

Jhogo grabbed the basket and nodded in recognition of her words.

Irri passed by Jhogo's side as they arrived to the camp and walked through all the tents and members of the khalasar to go down to the river. 

Its water was transparent, and the current not too strong, nor was a deep river. Irri saw the fishes running long the current and crossed it, getting her feet wet and up to her knees, where the water was least deep.

Her arrows and her bow went un-touched by the water.

Her Khalessi was on the other side, training with Jorah the Andal under the watchful eye of Drogon. The beast didn't take his red eyes away from the andal man, and for that, Irri couldn't blame him. Doreah had said once that Jorah saw Daenerys as a man saw a woman, and now, Irri too could see it.

"Khalessi!" she screamed, waving her hand in the air.

Both Jorah the Andal and Khalessi Daenerys ceased what they were doing, letting down their heavy straight weapons of Rhaesh Andahli. The Khalessi had once told them that her dragon-tamer ancestors used to have swords like those, but lighter and sharper, made with sorcery. Many things about the valyrians were sorcery, but Irri could not begrudge the dead empire for using what weapons they had.

"Irri!" her Khalessi smiled "Come!"

She approached, eyes on the man rather than the great, growing beast. 

"Will we resume the journey tomorrow? The riders are growing restless"

"Do you believe them foolish enough to try anything with the dragons here, Irri?" Jorah asked her, sheathing his andal sword.

Her reply was merely a shrug.

"Warriors do not always listen to reason" Men do not usually listen to reason, or think "That is why the Dosh Khaleen is the wisest council we have"

The Khalessi snorted.

"I would say" she agreed with a nod, both silver bells in her braid ringing softly with the movement "We will not resume our journey tomorrow, but the day after"

"Why? If I may ask" Jorah the Andal questioned.

Khalessi Daenerys sheathed her own, smaller, straight sword, yet toyed with her fingers on the handle.

"I will ride Drogon in the morrow" she declared, but her eyes were not on them, were not on her beast either, they were somewhere else "Fly to Astapor. Save our scouts the trouble"

"That is dangerous, Khalessi"

She shook her head.

"I will be on the sky at all times, with Drogon, nothing will happen to me"

What if you fall?; Irri wished to question, but refrained from doing so.

"They might shot you down, Khalessi" Jorah spoke, worried as well "Some of your ancestors have met their end that way. Aemon, the Pale Prince, Queen Rhaenys..."

"The first Rhaenys fell to a scorpion, and it was a lucky shot. No one knows where we are and few know Drogon is big enough to ride now, they will not have scorpions prepared"

"No" Jorah the Andal agreed "Not scorpions, but maybe archers. All they need is one arrow, My Queen and..."

Irri did not even want to think of it. Everything was gone if she was. The khalasar, the freedom, the hope, the faith. The home.

Her Khalessi could not die, because the chance of a different world died with her. One were fathers and brothers who were only babes were not killed for power. One were mothers were not raped and murdered by the knew khal and his bloodriders. 

"They will not get me" she declared, as if that was it and that was all "Drogon is swift and strong, he would not let anything happen to me"

"That might not be within his power to stop, Khalessi" 

Once again she agreed with the man, to her dismay. Irri did not know why, because the Khalessi could mount any man she chose and if she chose the elderly knight it would be of no consequence to anyone — it would even help her station with the riders to be any man she wished, like the Khals did with women — but there was something with the Andal that felt wrong. He desired the Khalessi, yes, but their Khalessi was unlikely to desire Jorah the Andal, for he was old and ugly. It was not that, however, that made Irri mistrust him. In truth, she did not know what it was.

"Worry not for me, my knight" she then looked up to the sky "It is best if we return to camp" the first Khalessi of the Dothraki said with a sweet smile "The sky will soon darken"

Dinner was done by the time they returned to camp. Dozens of fires lit inside the see of tents illuminated the dark night. As most nights, women danced at the sound of the drums, around the fires and the men laughed, some joined, others drank mare's milk. After dining, horse and rabbit stew made by many of the women and some of the men, the Khalessi retired to her tent and with her, Irri and Jhiqui.

The three dragons surrounded their tent, as protection from many of the men. The riders without faith. 

Jhiqui undid her braid, letting her silver-hair fall loose down her back, while Irri prepared the bath with the water Eroeh and Tana brought from the fires outside.

"The Khalessi plans to fly tomorrow" she told Jhiqui and Doreah, in hopes that between the three of them could make her see reason "All the way to Astapor"

"Is that safe?" Jhiqui wondered, stopping for a moment before resuming to scrub the slightly tanned pale skin of their Khalessi "You do not have a saddle for Drogon"

"How could I get a saddle for him? He is too big, and keeps growing"

"In Volantis, they have saddled elephants, the rich and powerful" Doreah comment while she washed the Khalessi's silver mane "Mayhaps there they could make you a saddle"

"I am sure that once we take over Astapor, we will find a saddle maker capable of making one for Drogon"

"But, not before?" Irri voiced.

The Khalessi sighed.

"We do not have time. We need Astapor for protection, for our plans"

Plans no one but her knew about. Plans she told no one. Would she ever tell?

"If we do not go there, if we turn back..."Doreah shook her head "We might find another Khalasar on the way"

"And what of it?" Irri snapped "The dragons are big enough to frighten any Khal. If we do find another Khalasar, we will only win more warriors"

"Warriors I cannot keep if I don't show I'm strong enough to ride Drogon" the Khalessi stood up, drops of water falling back to the tub, and Jhiqui wrapped a towel around her naked body "I am young, yes, but not a fool, I know what they expect, and what they think of me. Trust me in this, Irri, all shall be well"

Irri let out a breath and nodded. As always, her hopes laid with the small girl who commanded her Khalasar.

Chapter Text

Dany has never seen a tree so beautiful. Not even her lemon tree compares. It was a tree of bone trunk and blood leaves, with a face carved. Frightening in a way, yet beautiful all the same. Dany extends her hand to touch the bone-white trunk, feeling the rough wood under her palm. No matter how smooth it looked, it was still not a bone, but a tree. 

The snow falls around her, over her, but it is not as cold as it should be, despite her bare skin. Her fingers brush against the carved smile. The sap is cold, yet warmer than the snow, and it makes her fingers sticky.

"Daenerys" a voice calls her.

When she turns around, there's no one there.

299 A.C — Lhazarene border with the Red Waste

It was an easy way to wake. Her eyes simply opened suddenly, taking her out of the realm of dreams and back into her great tent amongst her Khalasar.

She was not the first to wake up, the sound of weapons crashing, water boiling unclear and chatter was heard outside the tent. But inside it was quiet. Her handmaidens slept still. But Dany is wide awake now.

Very quietly, so slowly, she rose from the bed with care to not wake the other women.

Today was the day. The day she would fly. The day she would take to the skies as her ancestors did two hundred years ago. On Drogon's back, her fierce black hatchling who was now bigger than a horse. She would fly on his back to Astapor, like Aegon the Conqueror had on Balerion the Black Dread.

Dany dressed with one of her painted vests, horsehair leggings and leather boots. Her hair was still loose down her back when she went outside. Rhaegal and Viserion were up in the sky, flying and playing. But Drogon, her very own on Black Dread, guarded the tent laying by its side. He raised his large head upon hearing her approach. Dany hugged him, and he purred. As if he was a kitten rather than a dragon. The three of them made that noise when they were comfortable.

"We will fly today" she told him.

Drogon blinked lazily and huffed, understanding her words.

Her Khalasar was looking at her, stopping what they were doing just to see her speaking that foreign language and treat her dragon. It became so quiet, so silent, the camp, that she could hear the birds chirping, amongst the flapping of her dragons' wings. When she turned to look at them, they inmediatly resumed their labours as if nothing had happened. As if they had not even stopped.

Dany shook her head, smiling fondly, and returned to her tent. Irri was there, awake, sitting on the bed.

"Khalessi?" she asked with a rough voice.

Dany placed a finger over her lips, signing her to keep quiet.

"Braid my hair, I will go now"

Irri sighed, but obeyed, her agile fingers braiding her silver hair in just a minute or two.

Dany turned around to face the taller girl, who seemed as solemn as Jhiqui usually was.

"Khalessi, please, do be careful" she begged, teary-eyed.

The sight broke Dany's heart. Irri was always so energetic, so happy, and yet... She wrapped her arms around the tall, slight girl, and hugged her. Irri tightened her arms around Dany's smaller frame, shaking.

"I will return, fear not" when she stepped back, Irri cleaned her tears "Rhaegal and Viseron will stay here, keeping the peace for as long as I am away. In the meantime, all of my councillors are in charge of the khalasar"

That meant Ser Jorah, Irri, Jhiqui, Doreah, Aggo, Jhogo and Rakharo. Four capable warrior, and two in training, as well as Doreah who had a gift for diplomacy.

"Too many years pleasing men, not just with my body, but with my words" the lyseni girl had told her once.

It should prove useful.

Equipping herself with her arakh and her sword, just in case, Dany considered herself ready to go.

When Dany left the tent again, Drogon was no longer nearby, but Rhaegal and Viserion had landed there, where he used to be. Protecting, like he used to be.

She saw black and red scales shining under the sun on top of the other hill. Dany found Aggo there, while she walked the path to the other hill. To Drogon. Her ko was picking up lilac flowers. Lilac was Doreah's favourite colour, her favourite flower. And Aggo wished to court her, he had been doing soon for moons.

"She will love them, Aggo" Dany smiled softly as she passed by.

Aggo stood up, five lilacs in his hands. His eyes travelled to Drogon and then to her again.

"Be safe, Khalessi" was the only thing he said.

Dany was grateful for it. She did not think she could possibly handle someone else begging her not fly.

She needed to fly.

It was a need, not just a want.

Drogon waited for her there, spreading his wings and waiting for her to get on his back. Her heart was pounding in her ears when she positioned herself on his back, grabbing onto his horns for support. Maybe she would need gloves, for flying, apart of a saddle.

She swore she could hear her blood running through her veins. Running fast, faster than it ever had. Even when she was burned, it didn't gallop through her veins and body in such hurry.

Dany gulped and parted her lips.

"Sōvēs" it was a mere whisper, for her voice did not raise in the slightest.

But Drogon listened. Drogon understood. Drogon flew.

And she screamed as they ascended to the skies. It was not a scream of fright, but one of thrill. One of amazement. One of wonder. A smile spread across her face as the wind made her braid fly behind her. Her heart was on her throat, when Drogon descended closer to the ground, but without touching it. They were not on Lhazarene ground anymore, the hills had been replaced by red sand and rocks. And for miles and miles, there was nothing else but rocks and red sand, and dead plants. Truly a Red Waste.

Dany tightened her thighs to avoid falling as Drogon managed to fly faster across the desert.

Never before had she felt that way, as the wind hit her face and she almost touched the white clouds, just below the sun, at a speed impossible on her horse. Free. That was the feeling, wasn't it? She felt free. Unburdened. It was only her, Drogon and the sky. No responsibilities, no worries, no more danger than falling.

The feeling lasted for as long as she flew across the desert. And stopped when the land turned more yellow than red, when the plants, few as they were, began to grow and breathe life. When she was close to Astapor. When she could see the light coming from the city, the fires shinning in the darkening sky.

Drogon landed there, tired. And Dany, she was grateful for all the hours she spent on the back of a horse, otherwise she would be unable to move. When her boots touched the ground, a strange anxiety flooded her.

Dany was no stranger to that feeling, but then and there she feared more than she thought possible. She feared for the future. What her plan could make of it.

It was all or nothing with it.

Either she achieved her goal and took over the city, freeing the slaves in the process, or they died trying.

Dany had faced Khal Drogo, she had faced a pyre, two assassins, a hrakkar, the disagreements of her khalasar and the fights within it. She had faced hunger and poverty, always running, always hiding from the sellswords the Usurper sent for her and her brother. Always in the verge of losing her life. Of that, she was used to. But it was different this time. It was not just her life on the line, but the lives of her people, people she swore to protect. She could not lose.

The silver-haired, young Khalessi stared at the torches burning on top of Astapor's walls.

All or nothing.

Is this how my brother felt when he faced the Usurper in the Trident? Before meeting his end?

She wondered, but believed to know the answer.

Her brother lost the fight, lost his life and his crown, and with him their family lost everything. But Dany was different, perhaps not as valiant, mayhaps not as noble, but she could do it. Because Rhaegar hadn't had what she did have. He hadn't had dragons, nor dreams, nor magic. So Dany was different.

Dany had to be different.

There was no other choice.

After a while, she turned to Drogon, messy strands falling before her face. The dragon opened his red eyes.

"It's time to go back" she said.

Drogon raised his head.

They were back to the camp nearly at dawn, so late the hours, yet so early at the same time, that all her people were asleep. At least until they landed on the very same hill her hatchling had been before. From there, the river seemed so shiny and clear even in the scarce light of the early morrow.

She practically jumped off her dragon's back, running to the river the moment her feet touched the tall grass. Barefoot she was when she entered the river, having left her boots behind. The water was cold and fresh between her toes, on the soles of her feet. As she walked, the river became deeper, every step bringing her closer to being able to swim. When the water reached her knees, there was only one step left to swim in the early hours brightening sky, for she stood on a rock amongst other littler rocks. Dany could jump in the dark of the water, hold her head underwater for a while, enjoy the silence and free herself from the thin layer of sweat that covered her body. 

Knowing full well that Drogon was watching and the sun was waking from its slumber, Dany disarmed herself of her sword and arakh before jumping into the dark water.

The cold imbued her body and for a moment she remembered her dream. Remembered the snow falling on her bare shoulders. Remembered the beautiful tree of bone and blood. Remembered the voice with no face. And the white wolf of a prior dream, the endless snow, the endless white. 

Dany did not know what any of that meant. Her dreams could be confusing, at times. But many seemed to be telling her things. Like her dream about the dragon and the mushrooms.

But why was she dreaming of snow? What importance did it had? A white place. Where could she find a white place? Ibb? The island in the Shivering Sea was known to be quite cold. And strange. Most places were strange, in truth.

Where else than Ibb? Where else could she find snow and cold?

The North; a small voice whispered in her head.

The north of Westeros was cold. Known for its snow and wall of ice. Dany had purchased some books about the continent she was born in. If she was to return there one day, she needed to know everything she could. And of the North she knew that was ruled by Lord Eddard Stark, the Usurper's dog. One of the men responsible for her House's demise. Brother to Lyanna Stark, her brother's, Rhaegar's, love.

Dany swam to the surface just when her lungs began to scream for air, eyes closed as her head emerged from the water. With a deep breath her lung filled up again and Dany opened her eyes. At first her vision was clouded, unable to focus on anything, but after wiping away the water from her face she could see.

She could see Drogon, watching her with his blood-red eyes from the top of the hill. Never letting her out of his sight. Like she didn't let him.

"My Queen" a known voice called her.

Dany kicked her legs to turn around and see Ser Jorah, standing on the rocky shore of the river.

"Ser Jorah" the sky was not yet bright enough for anyone to be awake "What were you doing?"

The knight smiled, sad and small.

"Praying. There are no heart trees here, but I still have to do it, pray, from time to time. So I do it here, away from the rest of the Khalasar"

Her Queensguard, the only knight she had, sat on a rock on the shore with a tired sigh.

"What do you pray for? Our victory?"

That was what Dany prayed for. For victory, safety and home. For her people and for herself.

"Home" he replied simply, gaze lost somewhere else.

"The North?" it was a truly foolish question "How is it like, there? All the books say it's a cold and vast place and that the Wall is there"

"Bear Island" he clarified with a slow nod "Despite everything that it lacks, that people think it lacks, it is my home. But the books tell no lies, My Queen, the North is cold and vast, mostly inhabited by the First Men. My kind. Worshippers of the Old Gods"

She does not know much of her own kind, the valyrians, but she would like to learn. Dany would like to learn about everything. 

She swam to the opposite rocky shore of the one Ser Jorah was sitting on. With her arms, she pushed her whole body up and left the water. The sun was beginning to tint the sky orange, and warming the air as only it could. The heat began to burn the water of her body and clothes, but Dany could scarcely focus on that with Ser Jorah's eyes on her.

Dany was many things, but a fool, was not one of them. The man, a member of her Queensguard, looked at her as many a man looked at women. He wanted her, but Dany could not share his feelings. So it was best to ignore it altogether.

"It sounds like many people have shown disdain to your home"

Or someone important.

He sounded as if he was resented. Because of who? Dany could not tell.

Ser Jorah just nodded.

"Lynesse" he replied roughly and simply "Her name was Lynesse"

"Your wife?"

"My second wife" he replied, as if pained.

I t hurts him, to talk of her.

Dany wondered if it would hurt her to talk of anyone.

"Is that all you will tell me? I am your Queen" Ser Jorah smiled a little, for a reason she could not comprehend "Was she beautiful?"

"Very beautiful" Ser Jorah stared in her eyes deeply, a gesture that made her skin crawl, but Dany did not look away "When I first saw her I thought she was a goddess come to this world, the very Maiden made flesh. Her station was much higher than my own, the youngest daughter of Lord Leyton Hightower, of Oldtown. The White Bull that commanded your father's Kingsguard was her great uncle. The Hightowers are a very old, very rich, and very proud House"

"And loyal" Dany said, though to herself she thought that only half of the time. For her mind, for what she now knew, remembered the Dance"I remember Viserys, he once told me the Hightowers were one of the fews that remained loyal to my father"

"And so it was" the knight nodded.

"What happened? Was a betrothal arranged?"

"No" Jorah shook his head "It was...it matters not"

"Tell me"

"As my queen commands" Ser Jorah frowned "My home...to understand the rest I must explain how it is, what it looks like. Bear Island is very beautiful, but isolated. Imagine a landscape of gnarled oaks and tall pines, flowering hawthorns, gray stones covered in moss, and icy streams running down the mountain slopes. Our house was made of large logs, and was surrounded by a mud palisade. Apart from a few sharecroppers, mine lived on the coast and were dedicated to fishing. The island is far north, and our winters are far more terrible than you can imagine, my queen" Dany thought it a beautiful sight, the island she had never seen "But the island was enough for me, and I never lacked women. I had many daughters of fishermen and sharecroppers, before and after I got married. I married very young, to the wife my father chose, a Glover from Deepwood. A woman with a vulgar face, but good. In a way, I grew to love her, although our relationship was more deferential than passionate. She had three miscarriages while trying to bear me an heir. She never recovered from the last one, and died shortly after."

"I am so very sorry" Dany said, because she did not know what else to say.

"By then, my father had already donned the black, so I was lord of Bear Island in my own right. I had no shortage of offers of marriage, but before I could make a decision, Lord Balon Greyjoy rebelled against the Usurper, and Ned Stark summoned his vassals to come to the aid of his friend. The final battle was fought at Pyke. When Robert's catapults breached King Balon's walls, the first to burst in was a priest of Myr, but I followed close behind. That's how I earned the rank of knight. To celebrate the victory, Robert ordered a tournament to be held outside Lannisport. It was there that I saw Lynesse, a maiden half my age. She had arrived from Oldtown with her father to see her brothers in the jousts. I couldn't take my eyes off her. In a fit of madness, I asked her for a piece of clothing to wear during the tournament, not daring to dream that she would grant it to me. But she did. I am a good fighter, my queen, though tournaments are not my speciality. However, with Lynesse's garment tied to my arm, I was transmuted. I won joust after joust. I dismounted them all. Robert awarded me the victor's laurel. I crowned Lynesse queen of love and beauty, and that same night I went to speak to her father to ask for her hand in marriage. I was drunk of wine and glory. Logically, he should have responded with contempt, but Lord Leyton accepted my offer. We got married there in Lannisport, and for a fortnight I was the happiest man in the world"

"Merely a fortnight?" Dany wondered, surprised.

"It took us a fortnight to make the return trip by boat from Lannisport to Bear Island. My home was a terrible disappointment to Lynesse. It was too cold, too wet, too far away, and my castle was nothing more than a wooden hall. We had no puppeteers, no dances of any kind, no fairs. Whole seasons could pass without a bard coming to play for us, and there isn't even a jeweler on the island. Even meals were a problem. My cook didn't know how to make much except stews and roasts, and Lynesse soon had her fill of fish and venison. I lived only for their smiles, so I sent for a new cook from Oldtown, and a harpist from Lannisport. Goldsmiths, jewelers, dressmakers... Whatever she wanted, I got it for her, but it was never enough. Bear Island is rich in bears and trees, and poor in everything else. I had her build a beautiful ship, and we traveled to Lannisport and Oldtown to attend fairs and festivals; we even went to Braavos, where I went into debt. I had won her hand by winning a tournament, so I participated in many others because of her, but the magic was gone. I never won again, and each defeat meant the loss of another horse and another jousting armor, which had to be redeemed at a good price, or replaced. There was no way to bear so many expenses. Finally, I insisted that we return home, but things only got worse. I could no longer afford to pay the cook and the harpist, and Lynesse went mad when I mentioned the idea of pawning her jewels. As for what followed...I did things I'm ashamed to remember. In exchange for gold. So that Lynesse could keep her jewels, her harpist, and her cook. In the end it was me who lost everything. When I heard that Eddard Stark was heading for Bear Island, I didn't even have enough honor left to stay there and face his judgment, so I dragged her with me into exile. Nothing mattered, only our love: I kept repeating that to myself. We fled to Lys, where I sold my ship in exchange for gold to support us"

The pain made his voice break, saddening her, but Dany needed to know how the story ended.

"Did she died in Lys?" she asked quietly, listening to her Khalasar awakening.

They would soon find her. They would begin their journey across the Red Waste.

"Only to me" he said shaking his head "Before half a year the gold was gone, and I had to sell myself as a sellsword. While fighting the Braavosis in the Rhoyne, Lynesse went to live in the mansion of a merchant prince named Tregar Ormollen. I have been told that she is now the first of his concubines, and that even his wife fears her."

The story was a tragic one, to Jorah and to Dany herself.

Does he love me as he did her? Matters not, whatever it is he feels for me, I cannot return it.

"I cannot give you your love back, that is not up to me, I fear. But one day, you will return to your home with your honour restored" she said instead.

He smiled through the sadness, through the memories, a genuine smile.

"May the Gods hear you, my Queen"

Dany smiled back, knowing that it was not up to any god, but to her.

As most things were.

Just as predicted, crossing the Red Waste took a fortnight. And the water and food they had stored only began to scarce a mere day before they reached Astapori grounds. So Doreah's calculations had been accurate. She had a love for numbers, Doreah, all the love for numbers that Irri and Jhiqui did not have. But that mattered not to her, everyone had a place in her Khalasar, and her handmaidens had other virtues. Irri was a hunter, and there was no one better than Jhiqui at breaking in a stallion.

Everyone could do something, they just needed to be given the chance.

The night before they left the red desert, Dany called all her advisors into her tent, to finally share her plan.

They were all there, Ser Jorah, Aggo, Jhogo, Rakharo, Irri, Jhiqui and Doreah. The ones that had been with her from the beginning. 

They sat around a bonfire, were a couple of rabbits were being cooked, her three grown hatchlings outside. Guarding, protecting.

"So, what is the plan, Khalessi?" Jhogo asked, chewing on a piece of roasted rabbit "We face them in battle? You burn the city?"

"We do not possess more than a thousand of warriors, and in Astapor they have thousands" Irri looked at Jhogo as if he was a fool "Are you simple? We cannot face them in battle"

"A thousand Dothraki make for ten thousand Unsullied" Rakharo scoffed before tearing a big piece of meat from the cooked rabbit's paw "They are barely men"

Jhiqui rolled her eyes.

"I am no man, yet more stallions surrender to me than they ever do you"

Rakharo snarled at Jhiqui.

"Then" Doreah said "burning the city is the plan?"

"No" Dany shook her head "I will go in with a few of my most trusted guards and advisors, the rest will stay away from the city, guarded by the dragons, until my signal"

"What signal, Khalessi?" Aggo inquired with a frown.

"When you see Drogon flying above Astapor, most likely breathing fire, the gates of Astapor will be open for you to enter, the slaves freed and the masters dead"

"Who will go with you, Khalessi?" Jhogo blinked at her, the youngest of her kos.

She could not take all of them, else she would have no one leading the Khalasar. No one she trusted.

"Irri, Ser Jorah and Rakharo" she said, and it was not up for discussion "I will pretend to want to buy an army of Unsullied, and Drogon would come with me, before we cross the gates, he will land on the walls and made our presence now, then he will return with you to camp. At every time she flies away, a scout must follow him, to know when is time to ready for the taking of the city"

"And is that wise, my queen? What if they try to harm you?"

Ser Jorah was the only one who was not eating. The only one with clean hands in a circle of greasy fingers. The only one who had decided to stand instead of sit with them.

"Wise or not. It is my choice"

And that was that, because no one could truly challenge her. Not anymore.

And that is what Dany reminds herself as she bathed in the morning, as her handmaidens dress her in a silk red gown and a silver medallion belt, akin to those of other khals. As Irri braids her hair and adds small bells. She put six bells. One for each victory. The one over Drogo, the one over death, the over her first assassin, the one over the hrakkar, the one over her second assassin and the one over the skies. Six already feel like far too many. And if her plans worked, she would add another one.

She remembered the Dosh Khaleen then, their words about the Stallion.

The bells in his hair will sing his coming.

Was six bells in a year a lot? She wondered while they rode to Astapor, after leaving the Khalasar, Rhaegal and Viserion in their new camp. A land that was not red, and that was next to a river. Away and protected. For that was her duty. To keep them safe.

Drogon flew above them, being the first arrive, landing on the red walls of Astapor with a loud roar. Dany could hear the screams from the gates. The people feared him, her fearsome hatchling.

Dany understood why, even if she did not shared their fear.

"The gates are open" Ser Jorah told her "Should we enter?"

Dany spurred her stallion, crossing the gates with her three close guards and advisors following her. She held her head high, because she was no child. The people fleeing and screaming did not frighten her, did not sadden her. She was a queen. A Khalessi. A warrior. A dragonrider. She was a Targaryen.

It was a commotion, to all of them. The plaza was was empty. Everything her eyes could see was empty. The people, slaves and masters, hid themselves. Hid from her.

But soon, smelling the wonder, the commerce, the opportunity, a few of the masters left their hiding places and came to her. An old man, with six slaves flocking around him. A fat man, with more tits than she had, came in a palanquin held by eight slaves. A man with a spiked beard and a tall man were the lasts to arrive, each with two Unsullied guarding them.

She felt sick, but had long since learnt how to hide her feelings.

Dany dismounted the stallion, with her chin up and eyes forward, looking at them.

"Daenerys Targaryen" the old man said with a solemn nod "I am Grazdan mo Ullhor, of the noble Ullhor family, of the blood of Old Ghis. Of—"

"She is Queen Daenerys Targaryen, First of her Name" Irri interrupted, coming closer by her side, and speaking in the common tongue very roughly "Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Khalessi of the Dothraki. The Mother of Dragons. And you will bow before you address her"

The fat one on the palanquin, who gave his slaves no rest, laughed at that.

"Tell the savage whore that I will not bow to her even if they paid me with all the gold in the world" the man said in high valyrian.

Dany kept herself still. She was strong. She was a Khalessi. She faced death and won. A slaver who couldn't move on his own would not frightened her.

"Then you might wish to say your goodbyes" Dany replied in her mother tongue, surprising the man, whose eyes widened comically "before you become Drogon's next meal"

From the wall, Drogon roared. And his roar alone was enough to make Grazdan and the other three bow to her. But the slaver on the palanquin only stared at her. Stared and stared, trying to get her to look away. Dany was not going to give him the satisfaction.

I am a Targaryen. A Queen. He is nothing. Nothing.

Dany tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, feeling brave and bold. Brave and bold as a queen ought to be.

The man sighed and stood up from the palanquin, with great difficulty, before bowing as low as he possibly could. But she paid not attention to that, for her eyes were on the slaves.

"What brings you here, to Astapor, Queen Daenerys?" Grazdan asked, old bones cracking as he stood to his height "Do you wish for something for your Khalasar. We are very generous here. We can give you slaves and feasts, gold... anything you could want. A place to sleep mayhaps?"

What I want you will never give. Greedy, cruel men that you are.

"I have come to purchase"

Chapter Text

In truth, Aemon had been expecting this dream. Not the pyramids, the red walls, the sea shore, not the people in flimsy tunics nor the dothraki by the thousand outside the walls. Not that.

But he had been expecting the dragons, and he had been expecting her. And Aemon could tell it was her. Daenerys Targaryen. His aunt.

Recognizing her was an easy fit. The easiest that there was. For she was a Targaryen and looked exactly as Targaryens were said to look.

Beautiful. Otherworldly. Breathtaking.

With long silver hair, and amethyst eyes, small in height and thin of frame, and yet she did not look weak. Daenerys stood amongst her people, clothed like them, smiling brightly, carrying weapons.

And for a second, just a second, her amethyst eyes found him, and Aemon could swore she saw him.

He awoke with a gasp, his body moving on its own to sit on the bed. Winterfell was always warm, due to the hot springs the fortress was built on, but the heat he felt was not due to the castle. It was a different kind of warmth. A dryer one. One left behind from his dream. Aemon guessed that was how Essoi heat felt like.

I will soon find out.

Soon. Yet, not soon enough.

He wished he could go now, set sail from White Harbour to Essos, Pentos, Volantis or wherever he could find his aunt. But he could not do so yet. Lord Stark and the girls were still not home. Still away. Still in grave danger. Aemon could not leave them behind at the mercy of the Lannisters.

The sun entered through the windows, as he bathed, dimmer than it had been the day before. Summer was ending, and Winter approached. If any battle was to be fought, it would be when the snow fell. And that would only make it a harsher war. But mayhaps that meant they would have more men to fight, it was no secret that the old men and the sick were sent away during winters. Too better the chances of survival of the young and the women.

In Winterfell that dire situation was hardly ever felt, even to a bastard like him. Although, Aemon did know hunger, just not for the sorrows of the Winter.

He clothed himself slowly, giving time for his mind to truly awake. For his muscles to act swiftly, rather than be slowed down by the lack of rest. Being in Winterfell did not feel like being back home. Did not feel like it should.

I ought to be happy here now that Lady Stark is not around. But I am not.

Why was he not? The easiest answer to that would be the lack of his uncle and cousins, and the fact that they were in danger, but Aemon knew it was not merely that. It could not be. It did not feel as if it was. It felt like...more. Something more. Like his dreams. His dreams about dragons. His dreams about her.

Targaryens of old had had prophetic dreams. Had they not?

And of not so old. Uncle Aemon said him and his brothers dreamt of dragons as well.

Dragon dreams, like Daenys the Dreamer used to have. Like many others did, but sadly, only after the death of all dragons. Like his father. Uncle Aemon had said so, had he not? That he dreamt, that his brothers dreamt, and that his father did as well. And now he, and her.

Ghost whined from his place on the floor, looking at him red, pleading eyes, before moving to the windows and jumping to place his front legs on the window sill. He wanted to go out, to run with Greywind in the lands around Winterfell.

"Not yet, boy, but we will start the journey south this very day"

Outside the thousands of tents and horses were ready to leave. Waiting for Robb to finish whatever he was doing to take the lead on the road. And Aemon would go by his side, as petitioned by his cousin and frowned upon Greatjon Umber, who now lacked two fingers, courtesy of Greywind. But the large man was not upset about it in the slightest, in fact, that little show of force had turned him into one of Robb's most ardent supporters. But that did not mean he trusted Aemon. Few seemed to do it, as if they did not quite buy Robb's declaration that he had not sworn the oath to join the Night's Watch. They would be right, of course, but it was unlikely they would ever know for sure.

Best if they do not.

It was easy to lie, Aemon found, and mayhaps that was why his uncle lied for so many years. Because it was easy.

The desk in his bedchambers was between two windows, so as he prepared himself to write a letter to his uncle, he could hear clearly the lords barking orders on the courtyard. Waiting. Waiting for Robb to ready himself to leave. Some were thirsty for battle, for blood, Lannister blood. Aemon could understand that want from the older warriors, who had fought beside Lord Stark during the Rebellions, but he found it harder to understand the younger ones. Winters were harsh, but that was nothing compared to a war. Aemon knew that, he did not know why, but he knew. They did not know true blood, yet they were thirsty for it.

And am I not?

The ink dripped onto the parchment, just for a second before he started writing. It was not the time to think of that. They would soon leave, and he could not be distracted. Distraction could get him killed.

Aemon waited for the ink to dry, before rolling the parchment.

"I am going to take this to the rookery" he told Ghost as he stood up "You can go out if you wish to, I will follow shortly"

Luckily, in his way to the rookery, he did not stumble into anyone. No Robb, no Theon, no Bran...no one. For the best, in truth, sending the parchment would be quick job. And afterwards, he would ready his things and bid goodbye to Bran and Rickon. Promise them he would see them again, even if it was a lie.

Aemon had hoped to find the rookery empty, to send the raven out himself, but maester Luwin was there, waiting. Because he knew the man was waiting for him. Unbelieving of his words about the oath.

"Jon, what brings you here?" the old man asked the moment he sent a foot on the top of that tower.

"I aim to deliver a letter, to sent a raven to Castle Black" he replied curtly.

Maester Luwin studied him carefully. He doubted his words, even if they were true. Even if they made sense.

"Do you, now? Can I see the letter?" he extended his open hand, old bones cracking.

Aemon blinked slowly.

"No"

"Whyever not?"

"Because the matters I speak of do not concern you in the slightest, maester"

And they did not, even though Aemon had not written a single word that could made anyone uncover the truth. Still, it was no matter of concern for any maester but his uncle.

"You do not fool me, Jon" the old man said "I know that you did swear the oath. An oath you are now breaking"

Aemon looked down at his letter. There was gnawing at his mind each time the man called him Jon. Something that made him want to bite. To sink his teeth into something that would bleed.

"Do you now?"

"I am not a boy of five and ten that you can lied to and manipulate, Jon"

As you did Robb, was heard without being said.

"I assure you, I told Robb no lie"

Maester Luwin sighed.

"Oh, Jon" bite the flesh and make bleed "I know better than to believe you"

"Send the letter, under my watch" he all but ordered.

He could order him one day, perhaps not too long in the future.

"I will not send it unless I read it first"

Aemon sighed and let his back fall against the wall.

"Then I shall tell Robb that you are doubting me. You, a southron maester, doubting me, the blood of Winterfell"

Robb would not do anything against Luwin, but he would order him to send the letter without reading it first. And, it seemed, Luwin knew that much. The old man picked a raven and tied the letter to its paw.

Aemon watched the raven fly away with the news to his uncle, hoping that it would reach him well.

"You have changed much in your time in away at the Wall"

I did. And you much preferred the boy who lowered his head and tried to make himself invisible, the one who fell out of place in his own home.

"It was not my time at the Wall" was the last thing Aemon said before leaving.

Ghost was waiting for him at the door of his bedchambers, instead of having gone outside, he sat and waited. Aemon scratched his head before entering his rooms. He gathered his father's letters and his mother's one, and sheathed his sword, before going downstairs, to the courtyard.

Robb was already there, thankfully, talking to Rodrik and carrying a sword bigger than any the master-at-arms ever let them carry.

"Bran and Rickon?" Aemon questioned upon approaching.

He had to say goodbye, just in case. In case he fell in battle, in Westeros or Essos.

Robb nodded towards the path to the Godswood.

"Where they are now almost always, taken care of by the wildling woman and Hodor"

Those were certainly some caretakers, Aemon snorted.

"I will say my goodbyes now"

Robb merely nodded and allowed him to leave.

He found Bran in the same spot he had found him the day he returned to Winterfell. Sitting on the roots of the weirwood while Rickon ran around with Shaggydog. Aemon stopped the youngest of his cousins and and lifted him up in his arms. Rickon did not complain in the slightest, instead he wrapped his little arms around Aemon's neck.

"You leaving?" he whispered sadly "You and Robb, you—"

"We will return"

And Rickon believed him, because Rickon was little more than a babe. Bran was nother matter altogether.

"What if you fall in battle?" he asked once Rickon was back to running around with his direwolf "What if the Lannisters kill father and Arya and Sansa? What if Robb dies? I cannot be the lord!"

"We will both try not to die" Aemon swore, because yes, that much he would try "But it needn't come to battle, there is no guarantee that it would happen"

No guarantee, no, but a high chance.

"And what of father, and the girls? Would they not hurt them? The Lannisters are evil" his cousin's eyes turned glassy.

"Not all of them" he could not stop himself from saying "If I can bargain with Tyrion, we will have everyone back home in matter of moon turns"

If we are so fortunate.

"You swear?" Bran whispered, but even his whisper broke.

Then, Aemon smiled and nodded. In truth, he was getting quite good at it. Lying.

"I swear" with his knees on the ground, Aemon leaned to embrace his cousin. Just in case "We will see each other again, worry not"

He was telling far too many lies. He wondered if Daenerys did the same, wherever she was.

Regretfully, Aemon returned to Robb's side, ignoring the wildling woman's glances as he moved. She knew. She knew he lied, but she would keep quiet unless necessary. He could see it in her face. 

"Are we ready to leave?" his question was directed to Robb, when they were up on their horse's back and their direwolves ran before them.

"Are you?" Theon Greyjoy smirked while playing with his bow "Bastard, you do not seem very ready"

"More than you, I surely am"

It was his fate, to go south and east. Whatever Theon's fate was, Aemon could say with certainty that it did not lay in Essos. None of theirs did, the northerners than rode with them at the head, only his did.

Chapter Text

She would have been overjoyed upon seeing her eldest son, her first-born, there in that windswept room where a turf fire burned in a blackened hearth. He was sitting at a large table, piles of papers and maps in front of him, and he seemed deeply engrossed in his conversation with Roose Bolton and the Greatjon, and him. At first she did not see him, only the white wolf with blood-red eyes she saw, laying at his feet, while he watched the flames, silently, but hearing everything Robb and the lords said.

She would have been overjoyed, and she was, for a second, but that joy soon died when she recognized her husband's bastard. 

Jon Snow.

Her heart froze when the bastard turned around, when the lords, one by one, began to quieten seeing her there, and saw her. For the first time, in his life, Jon Snow regarded her with the same coldness she did him. And that, that shook her to her core.

He had never done so before. Always adverting his gaze respectfully, as he ought to, but not anymore.

Whatever happened at the Wall to this boy?

"Mother?" Robb had raised his head from the maps and papers and was now staring at her, voice almost broken by the emotion.

Catelyn wished with all her heart to run to him, to hug him tightly and kiss his forehead, to keep him safe by her side...but she did not dare. Not in front of the lords. Not in front of him.

"What is he doing here, Robb?" Catelyn demanded to know, voice as hard as the bastard's grey eyes "Should he not be at the Wall? Or has he broken his oath?"

Then the bastard turned fully, and he, like Robb, had grown in the year, but now Jon Snow stood taller than his half-brother and somehow more fearsome.

"He, is right here, Lady Stark" the bastard took a step forward, bold as he had never before being, dark eyes flaring, but she did not allow herself to be intimidated "And can answer any question you may have by himself"

The White direwolf rose to his feet as well, walking to the bastard.

To her.

Catelyn almost took a step back. Almost. But her uncle stepped in front of her.

"Careful now, boy" the Blackfish spoke evenly, as if a direwolf that reached his chest on four legs did not frighten him "Remember who you speak to"

"I remember quite well" Jon Snow replied, but his eyes were on her.

He would not dare to attack her. Not there, surrounded by lords loyal to her husband.

"Brother, mother, please" Robb stood up from his chair, trying to bring some peace to the matter "'Tis is not the moment"

Catelyn looked at her son, who was now a man grown, who now had a beard redder than his hair. Who she had missed, so much. And yet...

"What is he doing here, Robb?" she asked again.

Her eldest sighed.

"He never swore the oath, and when news of father's imprisonment came to the Wall, A-Jon decided to return to help me. To fight for us, his family" Greywind, too, rose from the floor to go to Robb "He will stay, and that is no up to discussion, mother. We need him here"

"May I ask why? He does not have men to join the cause, does he?"

"Cat..." her uncle muttered "It is best not to—"

"Jon has another direwolf, and he is a better swordman than I am" Robb answered, sounding far too grown for a boy who did not reach six and ten "He will fight by my side, mother"

From the corner of her eye, Catelyn could swear she saw the bastard smirking. He never did that before.

Whatever happened to this boy at the Wall?

"Shall we continue?" the bastard asked the lords.

But they did not continue the conversation they were having before she arrived, in fact, all the lords came to greet her. Ser Herman Tallhart was the first to kneel before her and kiss her hand.

"Lady Catelyn" he say "You are as fair as ever, a beautiful sight in this trying times"

He was followed by Galbart and Robett Glover, Jon Umber, and then, one by one, all the rest, except the bastard. Theon Greyjoy was the last.

"I did not think I would see you here, my lady" he said while he knelt.

"I did not think I would come" Catelyn answered "until we disembarked in White Harbour and Lord Wyman told me Robb had assembled the vassals. You already know his son, ser Wendel" Wendel Manderly took a step forward and bowed as much as his fat belly allowed him "and my uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, who is no longer at my sister's service, but mine own"

"The Blackfish" Robb acknowledged with a nodd "I thank you for joining us. We need mean as brave as yourself. As for you, ser Wendel, I am glad to have you here. Is ser Rodrik with you, mother? I have missed him"

"Ser Rodrink left for Winterfell as soon as we landed, I have named him castellan, and have ordered him to defend Winterfell until our return. Maester Luwin is a wise councillor, but he is stranger to the arts of war.

"Fear not of that, Lady Stark" Greatjon's voice boomed "Winterfell will be safe. We will soon shove the sword up Tywin Lannister's ass, excuse my language, and head to the Red Keep to free Ned."

"My lady, with your permission, I would like to ask you a question." Roose Bolton's voice was high and weak, but whenever he spoke, men bigger than him fell silent to listen "It is said that you have Lord Tywin's dwarf son in your keeping. Have you brought him here? He would be an exceptional hostage. No doubt he could help—"

"Lord Tyrion is gone" it was not her who answered, but Jon Snow "Freed after a trial by combat he won. He ought to be somewhere in the Vale or the Riverlands at this very moment"

Catelyn was far from the only one to turn to the bastard, with suspicion and odd wonder.

"How do you know that?"

Jon Snow simply shrugged.

"Lord Howland Reed told me"

"And how did he know?"

The bastard shrugged again.

"I have no knowledge of that. He simply told me so in our way to Winterfell"

"And where might Howland Reed be now?" Roose Bolton questioned, pale eyes on Jon Snow, but he did not let himself be intimidated, or at least, he did not show it.

"Most likely in his home" was all the reply the received from the bastard.

"I allowed him to return to Greywater Watch" Robb was the one to explain, carefully, as if choosing his words to not upset anyone "I thought it best, to have his men ready in the swamps should the Lannisters seek to come North"

Robb sent a glance on his half-brother's way. A glance that told her that the idea had not been his, but Jon's.

Was he now making decisions for his brother, for the heir of Winterfell? Catelyn could only fear without knowing.

"A wise decision" her uncle commented, nodding in approval.

"So the Imp is no longer in our possession?" Greatjon asked, as if the conversation had not been clear enough.

"I fear not" Cat said, casting her eyes down, only to be met with a red gaze.

"If Lord Tyrion has arrived safely to the Lannister camp, mayhaps I could bargain with him, to get Lord Stark and the girls back"

"However could you achieve that?" Roose Bolton slight voice sounded mocking, and he was, most likely, mocking him "Why would the Imp even wish to—"

"Tyrion is my friend, he is not like the other Lannisters" Jon Snow boldly declared, interrupting Roose Bolton for the second time. Showing that he does not fear him "He even helped Bran"

"That much is true" Robb nodded "But it is not a guarantee that he would help us now, were he alive"

"There are no friends in the opposite sides of a war, Jon Snow" her uncle said calmly.

"'Tis not yet a war" the boy stubbornly responded.

Not yet. But it will be.

"There will be time to discuss this matter further, but the road here has left me quite tired. I would wish to speak alone with my son, I hope you will excuse me" she gave them no choice but to leave, and, one by one, they did so. Even Theon Greyjoy, but not him "You too"

"No, mother" the boy did not even began to leave the room, before Robb spoke. As if he knew he would. As if he knew what he would say "Jon can stay"

"Must he?" 

"Yes"

Catelyn sighed, refusing to look at the bastard, ignoring the smug glean in his eyes. She much preferred the other version. The boy who would stay quiet and look down whenever he was in her presence. But that boy was gone, and why? Catelyn did not know.

"Edmure was six and ten when he grew a mustache"

"I will be six and ten soon"

"You are five and ten. Five and ten and you're readying an army to go to battle. Do you understand my fear, Robb?"

"There was no one who could do it in my place" her son fell back on the chair.

"No one?" Catelyn placed her hands on the table "No one? Tell me, who are those men that just left the room? Roose Bolton, Rickard Karstark, Galbart and Robett Glover, Greatjon, Helman Tallhart... You could have appointed any of them. By the Gods, you could have even sent Theon, despite everything"

"They are not Starks"

"Nor is he!" she pointed at Jon Snow with one hand.

"I am not leading an army, am I, my lady?" the bastard replied.

Catelyn nearly snarled at him, but did not. Instead, she just lowered her head and sighed wearily.

"Have you received any news from your sisters?"

"A letter arrived" Robb scratched the direwolf behind the ears "There was another one for you, they came to Winterfell" with his free hand, he searched amongst the maps and papers to give her a wrinkled parchment "I didn't think to bring yours along with mine but..."

Catelyn read the letter in a mere second, it was shorter than it ought to be with all those sweet words, worried at first, but the worry was swept away by the rage and the fear.

"This is Cersei's letter, not your sister's"

Then, Robb smiled.

"That was what Jon said when I showed him"

She did not have the hours to rage about agreeing with her husband's bastard. Nor the mood.

"The true message is in what Sansa does not day. All of this words about how well they treat her... it's a sugar-coated threat. They have Sansa and they will keep her"

"No word of Arya" Jon Snow said, for the first time looking like something else other than oddly bold and strangely proud.

Only then did Catelyn turn to him with sad eyes.

"No" she said very quietly.

The boy had been close to Arya. Close to all, but to Sansa, yet there he was, trying to get both back. She did not know what to make of it.

"I had hoped...that if the Gnome was still your prisoner, mayhaps we could exchange hostages. But then Jon told me—" Robb breathed in "What news do you bring from the Eyrie? I wrote to aunt Lysa to ask for help. Do you know if she has assembled Lord Arryn's vassals? Will the knights of the Vale join us in battle?"

Oh, how I wish...

"Only one" she said "The best, my uncle...But Brynden, the Blackfish is a Tully, my sister won't help"

"Let us just pray she does not join the opposite side, then"

Catelyn could not help but agree with the bastard.

"What are we going to do?" Robb had not received the news as well as his half-brother, running his hands through his hair nervously "I have assembled a great army, eighteen thousand men, but I...I am not sure" she looked at her with glassy eyes. The lord was gone, and only the boy remained.

"What do you fear, Robb?" she asked carefully, tenderly.

"If..." he turned his head to look at Jon Snow "If we move forward...even if we win, the Lannisters have Sansa and father. They will kill them, will they not?"

"And if we lose we are lost, all of us. Remember what happened to" Jon Snow cleared his throat "Rhaegar's children. So we must win, no matter the cost."

The fear in Robb's eyes was made nothing by the rage and sadness in Jon's. Catelyn did not know what that meant. Had she missed something? What had occurred at the Wall?

"Then we will win"

Catelyn had all but been thrown out of the room the moment the conversation was over. Robb had wished to speak with Jon Snow in private. About what? Catelyn could not say. And that was what hurt the most. Her son trusted his bastard half-brother more than he did her. When had that happened? When had her eldest son stopped trusting her? What had she done to deserve such treatment?

And what had he done to deserve his?

She had been given a room in one of the towers, close to her son, but not close enough. Jon Snow's own chambers were closer.

"What troubles you, Cat?" her uncle asked, when they were there, sitting under the light of twenty candles, at a small round table "And do not lie to me, I know something does"

"Jon Snow" she answered dryly "What else would it be?"

"Well, in such trying times, it could be anything. But your husband's bastard is a good enough reading, I suppose"

Catelyn stopped playing with her food, moving it around the plate, in that very second.

"You suppose?" she repeated slowly.

Why? Why supposing alone? Was she being unreasonable?

"This is a dire situation we all found ourselves in, and the boy seems to want nothing but to bring back your husband and daughters. I do not think that a bad thing, Cat"

It was not. Not in itself, at least. Robb had a point when he said Jon Snow was a better swordman and had a direwolf with him, for they would need all the help they could get, and yet...

"He has changed" she said then, sure that it had been so.

"Robb? Well, Cat, he is in a hard situation and—"

She shook her head slowly.

"No, not Robb. Jon Snow"

Her uncle took a big gulp of the ale before leaving the goblet on the table and looking at her intently.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"He used to be quiet and respectful, he used to feel uncomfortable, I could see that, he used to refuse to look at me or even talk to me, because he knew I would not like it. And now... Something happened at the Wall that I do not know about"

"I doubt he would tell you, then"

"He will not" Catelyn agreed "but Robb knows, surely, and he might tell me"

Her uncle hummed, in disagreement, she knew what that meant.

"I doubt it. If he is as close to the boy as you say he is, he will not speak a word of whatever went down up north to you"

Catelyn feared that much was true. Robb would not tell her, he was far too close to Job Snow. Always had been.

She stood up, her plate half-full, as she could not eat more, and paced the room.

"And what is he do confident and proud about anyway? He is a bastard, has nothing to his name, not even a name he has. Why is he—"

"Mayhaps he learnt something at the Wall, something that made him change his way of seeing himself"

Catelyn stopped pacing, letting the wise words of her uncle echoed through her mind.

"Ashara Dayne" she said with a sort of bitterness she rarely possessed.

"I do not follow"

"Ned was said to have an affair with Ashara Dayne" she explained to her uncle, feeling as if the words burned her "And when I asked him if she was the mother of his bastard, he bid me to never speak of her or Jon's mother again. No one in Winterfell ever asked again"

"And you believe Lady Ashara Dayne was the mother of your husband's bastard?"

"Yes" she turned to the hearth "She died long ago, but her ghost still haunts me. Follows me every time I see him. Her son, and now that he has, somehow, figure it out that his mother was a highborn lady"

"How would Jon Snow even figure that out? If no one in Winterfell—"

"Benjen Stark might have known, and if so, he would most likely tell his nephew, at the Wall"

Everything began to make sense in Catelyn's mind. His new attitude, him leaving the Wall, him joining Robb to go down south. 

"I do not know, Cat" her uncle shook his head slowly "It seems like is something else. I cannot say what, but...I do not think the speculation of Ashara Dayne being his mother is the reason for his new-found pride"

Then what is it? What is it?

There was something that she did not know, some information that she was missing, and it was driving her mad. If it was not Ashara Dayne, haunting her from her grave, then who was it? What was it? What was she missing?

Catelyn walked to the windows of the tower, trying to search for some peace in the outside, peace that she could not find in the inside of the chamber, nor in her own, but the only thing she saw was snow.

Chapter Text

Astapor was all but beautiful. In the three days she could see that much, understand it. If the Red City had any beauty, Dany could not find it, not from the top of their piramids, not from their plazas, not surrounded by their slaves.

The piramid of Ullhor was yellow and terrible, the tallest of all piramids in Astapor, the largest as well. She, and her most trusted, had given a room there. The eldest Grazdan had invited them inside his family's pyramid, swearing it would be an honour to house the Mother of Dragons. And for three days they had stayed there, exploring the city, strolling the streets, being showered in luxury by the Good Masters. The slavers. The monsters.

Monsters she had to slay. Like the hero in some tale of old. 

Was she, Daenerys Targaryen, the hero? In her tale she was, in others, she might not be. But Dany would not suffer from being the villain in the tale of men like the slavers. What men like Grazdan thought of her was of no consequence. She cared not for their opinions.

On the third night, Dany considered she had spent enough time in their hospitality. The elder Grazdan organized a dinner every day, to speak to her, but never of business nor buying, only of idle things and flattery. But she had grown tired of it already, so instead of enduring their compliments about her bravery and beauty, she would ask about the Unsullied.

Two slave girls, no much older than Dany herself, did her hair up and showed her traditional tunics for her to wear. She rejected them, however, choosing instead to don a blue dress with an ample belt made of gold, something they had gifted her back in Pentos and decided to keep. 

It has been almost a year since that, she thought.

A year. So many things had happened in a year. Viserys had been lost to her, and despite everything he had been her brother. Her only family. Now, it was just her and her alone. No family. The fate and future of House Targaryen rested on her shoulders. She was four and ten, yet the burden was hers alone. 

I am not just a girl, she reminded herself as she walked through the yellow halls of the pyramids, I am a dragonrider, a Khalessi, a Queen. I cannot forget that. Not here and not now, of all times.

The table was set, and the elder Grazdan was sitting at the head when she appeared, being fanned by three men with sad eyes. Dany forced herself to keep going and take a seat. It took only a few seconds for Irri and Ser Jorah to arrive as well.

They sat at her side, Irri on the left side, Jorah on the right side.

The moment they were sitting, the golden trays were uncovered, showing the meal they were about to taste. She was not very keen on any of the meals so far served, but she ate them all the same. Dany had known hunger, she would not reject food.

"As all our other meals" Grazdan said, spreading his bony arms "this is dedicated to you, Queen Daenerys"

Everything is dedicated to me, or so you say, yet I do not feel any dedication. Only meaningless flattering.

The trays were filled with all kinds of food, crabs, figs, mushrooms, honeyed locusts, peaches, lobsters, lemon cakes, and honeyed berries, apple tarts and roasted lamb, and her cup filled with honeyed wine. She wondered how many people were starving while she was having that meal.

"I believe we have danced around the subject enough, do you not think so?"

The old Grazdan lowered his fork, staring at her with an unflinching, fake smile.

"You have come to Astapor to purchase, yes, the Unsullied are trained and ready, we are willing to offer you a thousand, to—"

"I want all of them" she interrupted the man, mentally noting that the Good Masters had been talking about her "I need them for my intentions"

Grazdan nodded.

"Conquering that land of savages in the west, I heard"

Dany resisted her urge to roll her eyes.

"Yes, and I need an army to recover what was stolen from my family"

"We have eight thousand Unsullied ready to be sold"

Her nails tapped the cup filled of wine she had yet to taste.

"Good. Then, give them to me"

Grazdan took a fig from a tray and cut it in pieces with a fork and a knife.

"How do you expect to pay for them?"

Dany frowned, but she had been expecting this.

"Will you not give them to me? You have just said—"

"A thousand we can give you for free, as a sign of our goodwill, so you and your army march away from our city. But if you wish for more...you must pay"

She knew better than that. She could simply just take them. Summon Drogon and burn the city. But then, what would she have? A charred city and the ashes of slaves, for the Unsullied would surely be told to fight to the death. No. Dany needed to be cunning in this.

"What is the price for the eight thousand Unsullied and all the slave boys in training, whether they've been cut yet or not?"

They had given her a tour around the city, showing her how the Unsullied were trained. Dany had never felt more disgusted in her short life.

Ser Jorah, who had been quiet and eating, after making sure the meal was not poisoned, spoke for the first time.

"My Queen...do we even have anything to offer the Good Masters?"

Irri nodded.

"We have chickens, horses, goats—"

"Do you have gold? That is what we ask for. Gold"

Dany did, in fact, not have gold. Of course, she did possess her gold belt, earrings, rings, medallions, but all that gold could buy her nothing. Not even a third of what she asked for.

"I do not have gold" she answered with honesty "Is there not anything else I could offer you?"

Then, the old Grazdan smiled in a true manner, that time, in a greedy manner.

"You have dragons"

There it is.

"I am not giving you my dragons" Dany responded quickly.

Grazdan's smile did not falter.

"I ask for one only. Rumour has it that you have three, surely you could spare one to buy your army and return home"

Home? No. It was not her home, Westeros. Not yet.

"Khalessi, do not" Irri played her part perfectly, even if some would find it hard to understand her when speaking the common tongue "You cannot—"

"You should not tell your mistress what she can or cannot do" Grazdan's voice was cutting when referring to Irri, instead of her "We ask for one only. The black one that brought you here"

She had been seen by some slaves working outside the Red City. Seen with Drogon. But that did not change her plans.

"I cannot give you Drogon. For he is bonded to me, and would never obey you"

None of my hatchlings will ever obey you.

Pretending to hesitate, Dany sighed and looked down.

"Then one of the others" Grazdan pushed.

When she looked up again, she look into his eyes and nodded.

"I will give you Rhaegal, he is as big as a horse now, but will grow larger with time"

The horrific smile in Grazdan's face told her the deal was done.

The Plaza of Pride, with its great bronze harpy, was too small to harbor all of the Unsullied she had purchased, so they had gathered them in the Plaza of Punishment, facing the main gates of Astapor, so that they could leave the city directly once they were delivered to Dany. There were no bronze statues there; only a large wooden platform where rebellious slaves were tortured, whipped, and hanged.

"The Good Masters place them so that they are the first thing a new slave sees upon arrival. As a lesson. A warning," Jorah told her.

At first glance, Dany thought they had striped skin, like the Jogos Nhai horses. Then, as her horse drew closer, she saw the red of raw flesh beneath the moving black strips. 

Flies. Flies and worms.

Her stomach turned. The rebel slaves had been peeled like apples, in a long spiral strip. A man had a black arm, covered in flies from his fingers to his elbow, all red and white underneath them.

Had Dany's heart not been already stone against all masters, it would have turned so then and there.

No slave master will remain alive after I am done.

Despite wanting nothing more than unsheathing her sword and kill the slavers that stared at that grotesque scene approvingly, Dany moved forward. She had a plan. She had to follow the plan.

There were rows and rows of them; eight thousand six hundred of them, with their bronze helmets tipped with spikes. Unsullied with complete training. And behind them, around five thousand, without helmets, although armed with spears and short swords. What was at the end were only children, but they were as upright and motionless as the others.

Kraznys mo Nakloz and his companions were present to greet her. Following them were other Astaporis of noble birth. Everyone drank wine from tall silver cups, while slaves circulated around them with trays of olives, figs, and cherries. The oldest of the four Grazdan, the one who had welcomed her into his pyramid, sat in a sedan chair carried by four burly slaves. Half a dozen mounted lancers patrolled the outskirts of the square to contain the crowds who had come to watch. The sun caught blinding glare from the polished copper discs sewn onto their cloaks, but Dany could still tell the horses seemed very nervous.

They are frightened because of my hatchlings. As they should be.

Not even that day had Dany agreed to wear a tokar designed for her. No. She wore a painted vest, horsehair leggings and leather boots. Her arakh and sword attached to a silver medallion belt, and her silver mane braided in the Dothraki manner of Khals. That day, she might have to fight.

Kraznys ordered a slave to help him dismount. He had his hands full: one held the tokar and the other carried a very ornate whip.

Dany felt Drogon closer, approaching at a fast speed. It was a strange feeling, the warmth that invaded her body when he was close by. The boldness that she felt. As if her blood rushed.

"Here they are!" Kraznys signalled vaguely to the Unsullied "If you can pay for them. Where is the beast?"

As if on cue, Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion arrived. The people stared at the sky in awe and fear alike, perhaps unable to move or perhaps not wanting to. The three dragons perched themselves on the walls of the city, but it was only Drogon who roared, only Drogon who made many of the nobility flee back to their homes.

Dany dismounted her horse and played with the hilt of her sword. Behind her, Ser Jorah and Irri dismounted as well.

The Good Masters stayed put, but all of them were somehow behind her.

"Here he is, the green one. Rhaegal"

It was strange and amazing, how the eyes of all of the masters shone with greed upon sighting her Rhaegal.

"Bring him here!" Kraznys demanded.

Dany turned to her hatchlings, and nodded at Rhaegal.

"Rhaegal, māzīs!"

It was not like with Drogon, she could not just think of something and he would do it, yet there was a bond still.

The dragon heard her and flew towards them. His slender wings caused the wind to raise and whip against their faces. Rhaegal landed in front of her.

Kraznys approached slowly, but Rhaegal did nothing other than look at her. The slaver seemed to take that as a success, and handed her the riding crop.

"Is it done then?" she asked.

"It is done" he replied with a nodd.

Dany did not know how a thing so light could feel so heavy.

She had an unexpected fear, not the fear of failure, but, rather, something deeper. Idly, she wondered if her brother, Rhaegar had been equally nervous when he saw the Usurper's army on the other side of the Trident.

Dany took a deep breath and lifted the riding crop over her head, so they could all see it.

""IT IS DONE!" She shouted at the top of her lungs "YOU ARE MINE! YOU ARE NOW IN THE DRAGON'S LINEAGE! I HAVE BOUGHT YOU AND PAID FOR YOU! IT'S DONE! IT'S DONE!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Dany saw old Grazdan watching her closely. Untrusting. But the other traffickers didn't pay the same attention. He had gathered around Kraznys and Rhaegal, and they were all shouting advice at him at once. Then, the sound of more than a thousand horses galloping could be heard in the distance, approaching at a fast pace. Dany smiled.

The sound of hooves against the sand had never been more terrifying.

Only then, did Kraznys and the others, turned to her.

"Kill her!" he ordered the Unsullied, as well as his guards, but Irri aimed true and fast, killing two guards.

"A dragon is not a slave. Rhaegal" Dany unsheathed her sword as the dragon looked at her "Dracarys"

The fire engulfed good part of the Good Masters, burning them with ease, amongst screams and the smell of burnt flesh. But some remained. The big Grazdan lunged at her, but Dany swiftly dodged him, making a big cut on his back. The blood dropped onto the sand at the same time as Drogon flew above the walls, burning the archers and the lancers.

Rhaegal kept burning any slaver who came to close to her and her trusted ones, and the Unsullied, they did not move. Not an inch.

Soon, her khalasar crossed the gates and killed any guard or slaver they could find, with arakhs and arrows and knifes. She saw Jhiqui wrapping her whip around the  big Grazdan, upon galloping close to her, only for Dany to thrust her sword into his heart.

Drogon finally landed, rising sand and dust when he touched the ground, roaring and spitting fire to any slaver within his reach. 

Jhiqui helped Irri up on her horse and galloped away, towards the fight. It was not yet over.

Sheathing her sword, she readied herself for what came next.

Followed by Ser Jorah, she ran as fast as she could to Drogon's side, the wind created by Rhaegal's wings flapping and his rise to the air giving her more speed. Drogon left his wings down, for Dany to jump onto his back.

As they ascended to the walls, she saw Jorah getting a horse, Irri shooting arrows from hers, blood splattering all over the red city.

"Unsullied!" Dany spoke from the wall, with the whip in her hand, and they all raised their heads "Kill all the Good Masters, kill the soldiers, kill any man who wears a tokar or has a whip, but do not harm any child younger than two and ten, and freed any slave you found from their chains!" with all her might, Dany threw the whip away, at as it fell, the eyes of the Unsullied came alive "Freedom!" she shouted "Dracarys! Dracarys!"

Viserion and Rhaegal heard her words to keep ridding the city of its plague and did so.

"Dracarys!" The slaves shouted from below, surprising her. Dany had never heard a sweeter word "Dracarys! Dracarys!"a

And all over the city of Astapor, the slavers ran, cried, begged and died, and the dusty air filled with fire, arakhs and spears.

Chapter Text

Dany twirls around amongst the ruins of a castle. The mossy, damp stone covered with ivy have something that calls to her. There was a tune playing, one she doesn't know. A tune that calls to dance. So she dances, dances and hums the tune.

"Daenerys" a voice speaks, so she stops twirling and humming to turn to the man "Dany"

Her name sounds pleasant pronounced by his deep voice. She sees his face. A young man, no much older than Dany herself, of dark hair and grey eyes. Thin face and some sort of sharp beauty. She smiles at him.

The Red City was at its most red during sunrise, Dany learnt. 

Each day, for a moon turn, she rose with the sun. Almost the first to wake up, if not for the freedmen who were still used to working in the morning. There were many of them who still did so. Many of them who could not believe. Dany could hardly blame them.

But it was not yet sunrise when she awoke. In the sky the darkness still ruled.

From the dream she woke, a pleasant one this time. 

I have seen his face now. The man who calls for me.

He was not what she had been expecting, whatever that had been, yet his face was a handsome one at the least and his eyes spoke truth.

Dark eyes and dark hair, clothed in all black. Around her age, mayhaps a bit older. But the question remained the same. Who was he? Why was she dreaming of him? What was his importance?

Dany had yet to discover all that. Had yet to discover so many things.

She wandered through the pyramid of Ullhor, quietly, with the steps of a cat. Her most trusted warriors lived there, with her. As well as her handmaidens, advisors and others. Freedmen who now worked there, cleaning and cooking. All of them all too eager to serve her. Dany did not know how to feel about it.

About the way they treated her. Moving aside when she needed to pass by, shouting her name, calling her every words for saviour and queen in every language they knew. All because she freed them. A part of her wondered if in their place she would act the same.

Surely, I would. If someone had saved me, from Viserys or Drogo, I would be most grateful.

Would she worship them as they did her? The blood of the dragon worships nought, a voice that sounded like Viserys echoed through her mind. And Dany thought, for the first time, that he would not be completely wrong, had he ever truly uttered those words. She would not worship, but she would love. She would have loved her saviour.

Then I ought to love myself, do I not?

Did she? Love herself? Of that she was not truly sure.

Outside, in the balcony, the nighttime air hit her skin with its coldness. The days were turning colder, but such was only noticeable during the night, and only slightly, if one wasn't thinking on it, then they surely would not notice.

Dany guessed winter was upon them.

Even during the night, torches shone brightly atop the red walls of Astapor. From there, she could see good part of the city. She could see Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion curled against one another by the closed gates. It had been her first decree, upon taking Ullhor's pyramid as her seat, that the walls of the city ought always to be closed. For protection. Scouts and hunters were sent out every day, but only those qualified, and never alone. 

It might be foolish of her to think the neighbouring cities would try to attack her, but she had made a drastic change that they would not wish for in their cities. The cleverer ones would have already understood that Astapor was not where it ended. And those would be the ones to plot against her people, to try and kill them, and her.

Dany could not allow it. She had made herself Queen of Astapor, Khalessi of the Dothraki, and it was her first duty to those who believed in her to protect them. So measures were taken. She owed it to them, to her khalasar and the freedmen, to keep them safe as no one had kept her safe.

Her eyes found her family's banner, the three-headed red dragon hanging from the walls of the city. She had wished it there, and that had been the first assignment of so many women and girls, to make the banners of House Targaryen. Dany herself had to make sure they stopped from time to time, took meals and slept at night. For they were not used to stop until they were done.

Most of the freedmen had taken to fishing, hunting, weaving or serving her and her advisors in the pyramids. There was not much to rebuild, for the taken had not been too destructive. Indeed, the bodies of all slavers older than three and ten had been burned outside the city, the blood cleaned and their riches and properties taken by the Crown. By her. 

She had decided to take their richest, use their homes to house freedmen and their tokars to be remade into new clothing.

Every child born of a slaver family had been transferred to one of the pyramids, guarded by Unsullied at all time, Ser Jorah had insisted. His words had unnerved and worried Dany mightily, so she had done as he asked. The children were taken care of, of course, but they did not have the freedom to walk through the city like others did. That decision sat heavily on her shoulders. But she needed to do what was best for all. Best for most. 

That was her duty. And, as her mother before her, she was mindful of her duty. 

Viserys had always said that of her, had he not? I wonder what my brother, Rhaegar, would have said.

Before she could realize it, the sun was shining in the cloudless sky and her handmaidens awoke.

"Awake so soon, Khalessi?" Doreah questioned with a kind smile.

Their clothes were scarce before starting the day, which was soon after breaking their fast, and so silky robes of different colours covered their body and nightclothes 

"I had a dream" she told the lyseni girl.

"The mystery man, Khalessi?" Irri teased with a smile "Did he did something this time?" 

"Did he kiss your lips, Khalessi?" Doreah giggled when Dany's cheeks turned red at the question "Or perhaps he did something more daring?" 

"Did you ride him like you ride Drogon, Khalessi?" the usually silent Jhiqui smiled brightly. 

"No, none of that. But I have seen him now. Now I know more"

They walked through the halls of the pyramid, so different, so lacking of everything that used to make it so horrifying.

"What does he look like?" 

"He is my age, I believe, or, at least he looks young. His eyes are grey and his hair a dark brown. He is tall too" Dany almost felt like twirling and giggling when talking of the mysterious man of her dreams "But let us cease this conversation, for I do not believe my kos will be very glad to engage with it"

Or Ser Jorah. He needed not to know of her dreams, of the mysterious man. If he did, jealousy might take over him. Dany could only hope to be wrong, should her companions talk about what they oughtn't to.

Aggo, Jhogo and Rakharo were already waiting for them in the dining room, as well as Ser Jorah and Kerra. 

Doreah moved quickly to sit by Aggo's side, a shy smile on her face. An odd sight, she thought, for while Doreah was sweet, she was not shy. She had been a prostitute once, after all.

"Good morrow, My Queen" Ser Jorah was the only one to rise from his seat to greet her. Westerosi customs "I trust you slept well" 

Her companions snickered, earning a confused look from the old knight.

"I did" Dany nodded "And I have decided upon many things" 

When she reached to pour herself some milk —the table had been set before she had even arrived— the rest began to eat.

"What things, Khalessi?" Kerra asked while picking a piece of roasted lamb's ribs. The Dothraki woman had managed to keep the khalasar from rebelling —alongside her kos— as well as leading them to Astapor when it was time. It was safe to say that her place at Dany's table was more than earned "Are we to conquer more cities?" 

"We should" Rakharo opined with a nod, taking some roasted beef for himself "If we stay here we will grow fat and lazy like the Milkmen" 

"No, we shall stay. I wish to turn this city into a prosperous one without the need to make chattel out people"

"And how are we to do that?" Ser Jorah wondered, not touching the food.

Dany drank her cup full of warm milk. Back in Braavos, in the house with the red door, she used to have drink it with honey. Ser Willem served it to her, saying that it was most popular in Westeros. To her, it still tasted like goodnight. 

"I want to build more boats, for fishing. There are great many kinds of fish in these shores and the city has a harbour" 

"You wish to make Astapor a city of fishermen?" Ser Jorah blinked. 

Dany nodded.

"And farmers. Some plants do grow here I had thought—" 

"Khalessi, no" Jhogo stared at her with wide eyes "It is a great afront to make the soil bleed, to carve it. The earth is our mother"

"And our mother blesses us with the knowledge of ways to feed ourselves. She feeds us" 

Jhogo did not seem too sure of her words, but did not push further.

"Is that how we will make gold?" Kerra tilted her head, the many braids in her hair almost hitting her cup "Not by taking it?" 

"We have gold enough for now, but we will, in the future, take more" Dany explained, taking a fig from a silver tray "Worry not, I shall lead you into many more battles" 

"How many more?" Aggo spoke for the first time, curious. 

"That is unknown to me, I fear. But it could be a great number, given that I doubt the Free Cities would just surrender to me" 

"Same with the other khals" Jhiqui murmured "The future is so muddy. So many battles. So many uncertainties"

"No uncertainties" Irri shook her head "Khalessi is the Stallion Who Mounts the World. It is known"

"But many Khals will not just accept that, Irri" Jorah pointed out "No matter what the dosh khaleen says"

"They would not" Doreah agreed "Men are prideful, and foolish. They will not like to be beaten by a woman" 

No, they will not.

The kos had hated her when she poisoned Khal Drogo, because she had stopped being a gift, a slave, and became a threat. Ignorant they were, believing that women could never be dangerous, until she had proved them wrong.

"What are we to do about the petitions, My Queen?" 

"Ah?" Dany hummed.

"The audience the freedmen have requested" Doreah responded in Jorah's place.

She had all-but forgotten about that.

"Oh. I shall meet them today" she decided. 

"Is that wise?"

Dany frowned, stopping herself from grabbing another fig.

"Why would it be unwise?"

In Dany's opinion, it was a wise idea, if anything. Listening to what her people had to say, what they needed, what she could fix. Was that not her duty as their Queen? To listen to them and care for them? Was a Queen not a mother to her people, her Kingdom? Just as she was the Mother of Dragons, she would be the Mother of an empire. Essos and Westeros. The Free Cities, the Slaver's Bay and the Seven Kingdoms. 

Jorah did not answer her, and she did not push. If he felt it was urgent, he would tell her later.

The Great Hall of Ullhor's pyramid was just as yellow as it used to be, but the trophies had been replaced with harmless trinkets and the walls were decorated with her House's banner. Whenever Dany looked at it, she felt strongly brave. 

She sat at a bench, not a throne, but a bench. To meet her people on common ground. Ser Jorah had advised her to have a throne made, or that at the least, for the bench to be placer higher. Dany had not agreed. 

"Grey Worm" she called gently from her bench. Dany still felt odd to call him by such name, but he had requested it. The Commander of the Unsullied turned his head to look at her "There are people outside, I hear, they want to speak to me. Let the firsts in" 

Grey Worm nodded, though his eyes betrayed insecurity. He worried about her, as so many did as of late. For if she died, who would be left to continue? In their mind, no one, but in truth, thousands could continue what she started. They simply did not see it, not yet. 

Two men and a little girl were the first to step into the hall. The men bowed awkwardly and in a shallow way, but the little girl did it well. As if she meant it. 

"Queen Daenerys Targaryen" one of the men, the one smaller in height, yet stronger in build, spoke first "My name is Cleon" 

"And I Ghael" the other man, pale, with a thing face and brown rotten teeth that nearly made Dany winced upon seeing them, spoke in a different way. With more care, it could be said "And we come to ask something of you, oh, fair queen" 

Much that she was interested in knowing what they wanted, she turned first to the little girl with a head full of curls, before the men could go the same.

"And what is your name?"

Ghael and Cleon exchanged a dubious glance.

"This one is named Missandei, Your Grace" she couldn't be older than ten, yet she spoke with more grace than many a man she met "And this one is honoured to meet the Mother of Dragons" 

Dany smiled at her.

"Nevermind her, Silver Queen" Ghael smiled too, showing his teeth far too much "We have come to talk about a most urgent matter"

"What matter?"

"The children of our former masters" Cleon spoke, with a voice that reminded her of a bark "why do they breath still?"

Her eyes widened. For they spoke of killing children. Killing innocents. The word might not have been used just yet, but Dany was not foolish enough to believe they meant something else.

Her expression turned severe.

"Whatever do you mean by that?" still, she asked.

"Well..." Ghael hesitated, as if her face had been given away her intentions. And mayhaps it had "some of us have wondered, not unreasonably, what you meant to do with them" 

What, indeed.

"That is a knowledge so far reserved only for the Crown and its council" Dany asked, somehow defensively.

They had not truly spoke of it, even if the general idea was to let them live and grow and learn. She still did not know how to make them unlearn what they learnt from their families.

"That does not soothe us" Cleon grumbled, there was an edge to his tone now "So long as they live they can try to retake what was their family's. To turn things as they used to be" 

"So your solution is killing children?"

"They are a liability in this new empire of your doing, Queen Daenerys" Ghael was far more diplomatic, yet, he too seemed to be running out of patience "They can cause rebellions, uprisings—"

"They are children" Dany repeated, remarked.

"Children grow" 

"They can grow into good people" 

"I am sure that is a possibility, but, will they? Many might not choose so. The older ones, the ones who well remember what they once had, what they lost"

It was not a lie, she knew. For Dany herself had grown into someone who wished to take back what once had been her family's. What Viserys used to dream about. It would be wiser to kill them, kinder, even. And yet....

"Children are not like men grown" Dany decided to say "they can learn and adapt quite easily" she ought to know, as still a young girl she was "and they will learn and unlearn. But if they do grow to cause trouble, I will deal with them personally" 

"So you will allow them to brings chaos here? To become the monsters they were born from?" Cleon's face was nearly red as a tomato "A poor job you are doing then. I could do better"

Someone chuckled, but she didn't see who.

"Could you?" Dany tilted her head.

"Cleon..." 

"I was a slave here" the burly man looked around "in this pyramid. A slave to Grazdan mo Ullhor. A butcher. His butcher. He sat sometimes in this great hall, the oldest and most respected of the Good Masters, and would have everyone in the pyramid serving him. He was an evil man" Cleon greeted his teeth "but he was not naive. You are. Just a little girl playing at being queen"

Mayhaps she was. After all, she was not yet a woman grown. 

A little girl playing... No. I am the blood of the dragon. This is what I was born to do.

"Yet, I am still Queen" her gaze hardened "And you are my subject, as are those children you wish dead. I give the orders, and I say they will live. You have my permission to withdraw"

Ghael did not need to be told twice, but Cleon stared and stayed still, jaw clenched. Eventually he did move, when two of her Unsullied advanced. Missandei was the last one to turn around, but Dany was quick to stop her.

"Except you, Missandei. I wish to speak to you" at her words, both men stopped their movements, but Dany had no wish to see them stay "I believe I have given you permission to withdraw. So, withdraw"

Through brown gritted teeth, Ghael bowed and left the hall, Cleon was another matter. He stared at her with a kind of disdain and fury Dany had only seen in one person before. She held his gaze, appearing indifferent, yet, severe. It worked as she intended to, for Cleon left.

Dany stood then, smoothing the red skirts of her gown.

"Your Grace" Missandei bowed her head "what is it that you desire from this one?" 

This one. Dany disliked that one to refering to one-selves. But the slavers had forced the people they stole to think of themselves as such. So most did it. 

Not Ghael and Cleon.

Not them. For some reason.

"What did they brought you here for? You have not spoken. Do you share their fears?" 

"Not as such" Missandei responded somewhat shyly "They thought Your Grace would only speak Dothraki and the common tongue, therefore they brought this one...Me, along"

Dany stood up and walked to the girl, that was not much smaller than Dany herself, but skinnier to be sure. Not as well fed as Dany now was.

"You can speak Dothraki?" 

"I speak many languages, Your Grace" Missandei nodded, straightening her back "Amongst them Dothraki, bastard valyrian, the common tongue and high valyrian. Some Ghiscari as well" 

"Do you know how to read and write?"

"Yes, Your Grace" 

Her response was a proud one, Dany could tell. And Missandei ought to be proud, for she was quite accomplished for such young girl.

"Would you like to be a part of my household. I am in need of a scribe" 

The little girl stared at her with big brown eyes and mouth parted. Surprised by her offer, mayhaps.

"Truly?" 

Dany smiled at her.

"Indeed. There is so many texts here, I found, that we could translate. And you must know more of the city and the freed men and women than I do, I could use one such as you in my council"

"It would be an honour to be in the service of the Mother of Dragons. Thi— I accept"

"Come with me" it was a gentle request, not an order.

There were so many empty chambers in that pyramid, even with all of her kos and bloodriders living there as well. Dany gave Missandei one close to her own, for she did not wish to leave someone so young unattended.

"I am very honoured, Your Grace" the little girl said, sitting on her new bed with a bright smile "I have never had a room of mine own" 

"How old are you?" 

"I am one and ten, Your Grace"

Dany tried to remember what she was doing at that age.

Running from one place to another. Fearing for my life. Doors closing behind me and Viserys.

She shook her head. It was best not to think of that.

"And where are you from? Astapor?" 

Missandei shook her head.

"Naath. An island in the Summer Sea. I was taken as a little child... with my brothers"

She didn't think she would be able to pinpoint Naath in a map, though she knew it was close to the Summer Islands.

"What happened to your brothers?"

"They were made into Unsullied, sold away. Ones is dead, I know" Missandei looked down, though her eyes like molten gold shone with visible sadness "I do not know where the rest are. Meereen, Yunkai, Pentos, Lys... mayhaps Volantis"

Dany nodded.

"My brothers are both dead as well. One I never even met, he died before I was born, the other..." she swallowed "Viserys was killed during my wedding, by my late husband, Khal Drogo, who I then poisoned"

"I am sorry"

She chuckled quietly.

"He was not...well, many would not even mourn him. Not if they were in my place. He sold me off, I do not know how I would be now if I had not...but he was my brother. All the family I had left"

She was all alone now. No one could quite understand her, no matter how hard they tried. Even if Dany did appreciate their tries. Even if Dany did love them. They could never fully understand. 

Who could understand the heart of a dragon?

Another dragon.

But there was no other. Not anymore.

Missandei nodded, in silent understanding. Or mayhaps not. 

"I will help you find your brothers, the remaining ones" it was a vow, in truth, in a silent tone. For Dany could not find her family, they were gone, underground, but little Missandei still had a chance to be reunited with hers "Another chance for you and your family" 

"You are most kind, Your Grace" there were tears in the little girl's eyes.

Dany did not think so, but smiled either way.

"If you are in need of anything, do not doubt in asking" 

She left Missandei there, promising to go to accompany to dinner later. It would be good to introduce the little girl to her household. As a part of it, as her new scribe. As one of them. 

She left those bedchambers while her right hand nervously toying with the hilt of her dagger. Dany did not know why she was nervous, but she was. 

She walked through the halls of the pyramid, going down stairs and more stairs to left the great building. Grey Worm following silently since she left the bedchamber.

"My Queen" Ser Jorah approached her, just when she was about to cross the door, bowing his head ever so slightly when he stood next to her "I suppose you are on your way to see the dragons" 

She had to, otherwise her hatchlings would get fussy. And she wanted to see them. She needed to.

"I am. Do you wish to come with us, Ser?" 

He would say yes, he always did. Always wished to be next to Dany. It was a bit unnerving, at times.

Ser Jorah nodded, and the three of them made their way to the closed gates.

Every time she stepped outside of the pyramid, the people cheered for her, called her name as she rode by them, pushed each other to be able to see her. Dany always smiled at them, cheeks flushed, for she had to give them something for their love.

Drogon was flying above the city, but her youngest boys were curled under the sun, sleeping soundly.

Her smile grew brighter upon seeing her hatchlings. Jumping from her horse to run to them, Dany felt happier just by seeing them. She hugged Rhaegal and Viserion, her hatchlings that pressed their heads together to fit in her arms. They had grown in the past moon turn, but they will not reach Drogon's size anytime soon.

Grey Worm stayed at a prudent distance, spear in hand and eyed like hawk on her. But Ser Jorah dared to come closer. If only close enough that she could hear his voice. 

"I wished to speak to you, My Queen" his eyes nervously moved from her to the dragons and then back to her. 

Dany scratched the necks of both dragons with vigor, and noises akin to purring abandoned their bodies.

"About what?" she was not even looking at him. 

"I believe it is time to return to the Seven Kingdoms"

Dany stopped her hands, all her movements, but did not look at him.

"We cannot. Not yet"

"My Queen, 'tis the best of times. The Usurper is dead, there are three Kings in Westeros now. And with your dragons... The other claimants have no opportunity to take and hold the Iron Throne" 

It had been the Good Masters who had informed her of that bit of information. The death of the Usurper, at the hands of a boar. Or his wife, according to some. Now Joffrey Baratheon sat the throne, but Stannis and Renly Baratheon had declared themselves Kings as well. They all wanted to take what was Dany's, but she doubted they could hold ir for long. Power was fleeting, she learnt, at least the one the lords toyed with. Fleeting and invisible. Unlike her own. 

But, was that a good thing?

"Not yet, Ser Jorah" she repeated.

"Whyever not? You have three dragons large enough to carry a person, that grown larger still, with fires that burn hotter each day, and nine thousand warriors ready to take—"

Only then did she turn around, turn to face him, to shut him up. 

"We do not have the ships, not enough warriors. And I am needed here. We are needed here. I aim to free all the slaves in Essos, from Slaver's Bay to the Free Cities. All of them. And I have just begun, I will not give it up now" with a sigh, she took a step towards the elder knight "You one sought to sell poachers for gold. This is your chance to atone for that choice. Your chance to make better choices! To help people!"

Is that not what knights and queens were put on this world for?

Ser Jorah huffed and bowed his head.

"As you say, My Queen"