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Jon

The cerulean sky seemed to stretch endlessly and in the distance he believed to see a handful of dolphins gliding through the rolling waves. Jon grew up in Starfall, the pleasant sound of the waves there to greet him every morning, but to spend day and night on a ship proved torturous for his stomach. In the first two weeks had been barely able to keep down his food down. Now nearly a moon on sea he was finally getting used to the constant rocking motion of the ship.

“The gods blessed us with a good wind. We will soon arrive in Pentos, my friend,” the Captain of the Red Lady explained to him in the Common Tongue. Jon tried to avoid the man, but he was always there like swarm of bees fluttering around a pot of honey. Prince Oberyn told him to avoid curious men like him, but it would be even more suspicious if he avoided the man without any good reason.

“They say Pentos is a beautiful city,” Jon replied politely.”Is it true?”

The Captain smiled.

“Pentos is the pearl of the Free Cities. For others it may be Braavos or Volantis, but not for me. Pentos is heaven on earth.”

“Pentos is your home, isn’t it?” he asked the curious Captain and graced him a smile.”The saying goes that one’s home is always paradise.”

The Captain bobbed his head enthusiastically, a smile crossing over his lips, revealing a row of golden teeth. Like many a man hailing from across the Narrow Sea he had copper skin, dark eyes and sported a forked beard kept in the Pentoshi style.

“I am a true Pentoshi, but I have travelled the world since the wee age of eight summers. This ship used to belong to my grandfather, a rich merchant trading with silk, but my worthless father lost all his coin. This ship is all that I have left and one distant day it will belong to my son,” the Captain explained proudly.

Jon had listened patiently and with great interest. Others might find such stories boring, but he had spent most of his youth in Dorne and always longed to see the world. When he was very young he tried to run away to the North to meet his distant father, but his Uncle’s men were able to stop him before he was able to slip away.

Thus Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North remained a stranger to him, though he came to visit them after the last battle of the Greyjoy Rebellion was fought. The concept of a father had been foreign to him until this fateful day, though, he had never lacked familial happiness. He had his Uncle Arron, his Lady Mother, his Aunt Allyria and his cousin Edric.

The realization that a “bastard” is different from other children came much earlier. It happened when Prince Doran Martell invited his Lady Mother to a tourney held in honour of Princess Arianne’s nameday celebration. It was one of Doran Martell courtiers who dared to pose the unpleasant question that would haunt him throughout his entire childhood.

This sullen boy is Eddard Stark’s bastard?

Naturally, he needled his Lady Mother with questions about his father. Like always, his Lady Mother answered his many questions with patience and care, yet none of her words helped to ease the anger residing in his heart.

It wasn’t until he met Lord Eddard Stark in person that he was able to forget his anger. Even now he recalled the sorrowful expression written on his father’s face as he took his leave from his Lady Mother. I made him realize that Eddard Stark would have gladly taken him to Winterfell if it were possible.

“How old is your son?” he asked the Captain.

“Nearly ten and one. He is a fine boy, but his mother asked me to wait for another year before I take him with me,” the Captain explained proudly, his voice laced with longing and sadness.”I will see him soon and I have no doubt that may wife will ask me to wait for another. It is understandable, he is our only child.”

Jon smiled and nodded his head in understanding. His Lady Mother was not pleased when he told her that Prince Doran Martell tasked him to travel across the Narrow Sea to seek out Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys Targaryen. She even offered to speak to Prince Doran, but Jon was freshly knighted and he owed Prince Oberyn, for whom he squired, for his patience and care. He knew that it was his mother’s influence that led to this arrangement, but Jon doubted an outspoken man like the Prince of Dorne would have knighted him if he though him unworthy.

“You are a good man,” he told the Captain and meant it.”My Lady Mother wept bitter tears upon my departure to Pentos. I am also her only child.”

Yet it was the only way. Prince Doran Martell promised him lands in exchange for his service. He loved his family, but disliked that had to depend on his Uncle’s generosity.

“Your mother sounds like a fine woman. I will pray for your quick return, my friend,” The Captain replied warmly and touched his amulet.

Jon smiled hesitatingly.

“My travel will take moons, Captain. I have business to attend to with a magister named Illyrio Mopatis.

The Captain’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I know him,” the Captain said and stroked his beard. ”He is very rich and his enemies like to call him the Seacow of Pentos. Do you intend to enter into his service?”

Jon feigned a chuckle, intending to distract the man from the truth, namely the sword fastened at his belt.

“No, am here to negotiate on contracts, nothing more.”

The Captain nodded his head and eyed him from head to toe. ”Forgive my curious observation, but you don’t look like a merchant, friend.”

He has sharp eyes, Jon thought and gave the man an affirming nod. Better to give a half-truth than an outright lie. Prince Oberyn told him when he tried to teach him about deception.

“Indeed,” he confirmed.”In truth, I am freshly knighted and Uncle tasked me with this rather inglorious mission. What can I do? He is my Uncle,” Jon answered and tried not to flinch.

“I see,” the Captain said.”Then the ailing boy below deck is your squire, eh?”

“Aye, Ned is my squire. My Uncle wants him to gain experience. I hope he will get better once are in Pentos.”

“The boy will get used to it in time, but firm ground beneath the feet is the best antidote,” the Captain explained. ”You lot hail from Dorne?”

“Indeed,” Jon confirmed, a soft breeze brushing over his hair and cloak.”It seems the promised wind is stirring. I am sure my young squire will appreciate it. I should go and keep him company.”

“Do that, my friend,” the Captain replied, but Jon was sure that the man knew more than he let on.

After he left the Captian he made his way below deck to join Edric. They shared a small cabin, barely able to house two people, but at least they had their privacy.

Jon found his squire grouching over a wooden bowl, his blond locks falling into his round face. His thin body was wracked by violent spasms as he emptied his breakfast in the bowl.

“Easy…Easy,” Jon told his squire and smoothed his hand over the boy’s back.

“Thank you,” his Edric answered weakly.

Jon ruffled through his hair and graced him with an affectionate smile.

“Don’t fret, cousin. The Captain assured me that we will soon arrive in Pentos.”

“The Seven be blessed!” Edric muttered in relief. ”About time!”

Jon nodded his head and leaned against the wooden wall.

“I wish I could share your happiness,” Jon said and exhaled deeply.”I have the feeling that our task will prove more difficult than expected.”

The boy straightened himself and gave him a confused look.

“Prince Doran Martell sent us here. Surely, Prince Viserys will be honored to receive his support.”

Jon wished he could share the boy’s enthusiasm, but he recalled Prince Doran Martell’s last instructions all too well.

We heard concerning reports about Prince Viserys. Some say he shares his father’s madness. Observe him and protect him and his sister. Be my ears and eyes, Ser Jon.

Yet he didn’t want to worry his nephew and graced him with an assuring smile.

“I am sure you are right, Ned.”

…

Daenerys

Dany felt sick and was barely able to touch the fine food provided to them by their generous host Magister Illyrio. Barely a moon ago her moonblood arrived with aching cramps and crimson blood. Viserys welcomed it like the coming of rain after a long drought.

It meant another step in his grand plan to retake their home from the Usurper’s hands. It was this desperate home that had been driving her brother since they were cast out from their first home in Braavos. It was this obsession that occupied all this thinking.

Home. Only in her dreams she was able to recall the small house with the red door and the lemon tree in front. It was nothing more than a blurred memory, but it never failed to give her a sense of peace. These memories made her recall a different Viserys, who told her stories about knights and dragons. Good Ser Darry was also there, smiling down at her and calling her “my little Princess”.

When they write the history of my reign they will say it began tonight, Viserys had told her when he presented her to Khal, meant to be her husband.

She protested, shivering like a reed, but there was nothing left of the old Viserys.

Now she knew better. He died on the day he sold their mother’s crown.

“Why are you not eating?” Viserys asked, his voice laced with displeasure. ”You are too thin. You will need more flesh on your body to welp children for the Khal.”

“I am not hungry,” she muttered quietly, hoping to avoid another one of her brother’s fits of rage. She didn’t want to wake the dragon at such a late hour.

“I said eat!” Viserys hissed angrily and slammed his golden goblet on the wooden table. One of the servant girls pouring the wine started to tremble and nearly dropped the flagon of wine.

A moment later she slipped out of the room. The servants knew her brother’s temper. Not long ago one of the pleasure slaves dared to insult her brother and ended up whipped bloody, only to perish a week later.

Dany tried to comply and took a hesitant bite from the honeyed pork. The meat was delicious, but only she was aware of the price she will have to pay for the magister’s hospitality.

My life and freedom.

The thought alone was enough to drop the food. Instead she leaned over and brought the goblet to her mouth. The taste was sweet, but even the sweetest wine didn’t help to ease the growing feeling of anger stirring inside her heart.

“You are still eating like a bird!” Viserys hissed and pointed at her plate. ”Did you forget how to eat?”

His insult woke her defiance.

“I don’t want to eat the food, because it was bought by the magister’s gold,” she replied angrily. ”I don’t trust him and neither should you, dear brother. He is using us.”

“Don’t you dare to question me, sister!” came the prompt reply. Spurred on by his rage he grabbed her hair. He pulled and twisted her braid, making her squirm in pain.”I am your King. You will do your duty and then we will take back what should be rightfully mine.”

Dany gritted her teeth and leaned against the table to balance herself.

“Do you understood?” he asked and smelled the wine in his breath.

“I understand…,” she whispered, gasping for air.

“Good,” he said more calmly and let go of her hair.”Now eat.”

Dany looked at the food, but she felt only disgust. She was tempted to refuse her brother once more, but they were interrupted by Magister Illyrio’s appearance.

“I see…you are enjoying the honeyed pork, sweet child,” the Magister remarked sweetly. Dany managed a polite nod and Viserys’ attention was directed elsewhere.

“Did the Khal return?” Viserys asked and sounded anxious. If you like him so much wed him yourself, dear brother.

The Magister patted his stomach and laughed.

“Sadly not, your Grace, but interesting guests arrived. An envoy from Dorne,” the Magister explained.

Dorne was a familiar named. It was a kingdom in their distant home.

“An envoy?” her brother asked, his pale violet eyes filled with sudden hope.”What are they here?”

“Prince Doran Martell sent them here to speak to Viserys Targaryen, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

The mention of “rightful heir” was enough to paint a smile on her brother’s pale lips.

“Of course,” he said and his smile only brightened. ”I assume they heard of my sister’s upcoming wedding and realized that it is time to choose sides. Prince Doran is a clever man. Please call them here at once.”

“Of course, your Grace. All will be done according to your wishes,” the Magister replied and the mere clap of his hands he sent one of the servants to bring the promised guests.

“May I introduce Ser Jon Sand and his squire Edric Dayne, the heir to Starfall,” the Magister introduced the two strangers.

A bastard knight and a young boy was certainly not what she expected, but she still eyed the strangers curiously.

The bastard knight was quite tall and graced with an even-shaped face. The squire was pale-haired and fair of skin.

He looks a bit like us, she thought spotted a hint of purple in his otherwise blue eyes.

All these impression were lost when she saw her brother’s displeased face. It was subtle, but Dany knew how to read her brother’s moods and what she saw was not encouraging.

“Is that a jest? Is this how Prince Doran Martell honors his rightful King?” her brother asked, bitterness ringing in his voice. ”He sends me a bastard and his puny squire.”

Dany’s gaze flickered back to the bastard. She expected anger, but his face remained stoic, almost unreadable.

Ever calmly, the young man stepped forward, his violet cloak swishing after him as he knelt down in front of her brother.

“Nothing could be further from the truth, my King. Prince Doran sent me to here to bring you joyous news…,” he tried to explain, but Viserys cut him off.

“Prince Doran insults me,”Viserys said and tightened his grip on the handle of his chair. ”Tell him that when you see him again. King Viserys has no use for a bastard and a child.”

The bastard knight flashed her brother a piercing look.

“Prince Doran is cautious.  King Robert Baratheon employs capable spies and I doubt it is in your interest that the King finds out about this meeting. I squired for his brother Prince Oberyn and I have his trust. That is why I was sent here, but you might have noticed my companion,” the young man explained and pointed at the young squire.“This is my cousin Edric Dayne and the rightful heir to Starfall. His Uncle was Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning who served your brother Prince Rhaegar, the Last Dragon.”

“The Sword of the Morning?” her Viserys asked and laughed.”Where was the Sword of the Morning when my Lady mother and I were forced to flee over the Narrow Sea?”

“He died, your Grace,” Edric Dayne offered shyly.

“Exactly…he died,” Viserys sneered and rose to his feet freed his blade. He looked clumsy and walked like a man too deep in his cups.

Why does he shame himself thus?

“He died…killed by the Usurper dogs,” her brother added and moved towards the bastard knight.” Eddard Stark was one of them and you are his bastard, are you not?” her brother continued his questioning, his blade dangerously close to the bastard knight’s neck.

The bastard knight’s hand twitched, but remained on the pommel of his sword.

He is holding himself back.

“I recognize your face. Brandon Stark had the same face and my Lord father rightfully executed him for threatening my brother’s life,” Viserys added tauntingly.

“Eddard Stark is my father, but I hardly know him, your Grace,” the bastard knight replied through gritted teeth and met Viserys’ gaze. She saw no fear, only anger.

“It is true,” Edric Dayne confirmed and dared meet Viserys’ gaze. ”Jon grew up in Starfall. He is loyal to Prince Doran.”

“You dare…!” Viserys began, but Dany decided to intervene.

“Brother!” Dany called and grabbed her brother’s arm.”Why not hear him out?”

“The Princess speaks true. Allow Ser Jon to relay Prince Doran’s joyous offer, your Grace.” Magister Illyrio replied.

“Very well,” her brother declared unwilling, sheathed his blade and sat down.”Tell me about Prince Doran’s joyous news?”

The bastard knight’s jaw went slack and his stance softened. Yet his hand remained on the pommel of his sword.

“Prince Doran offers you the spears of Dorne, the hand of his gracious daughter Princess Arianne and another offer of marriage to your sister, Princess Daenerys.”

An offer of marriage for me, she repeated to herself and filled her with hope. Maybe I will not have to wed the Khal.

“I appreciate his offer, but my sister will wed Khal Drogo. His valiant warriors will help me to my crown. It seems your Prince is not as well informed as he believes,” her brother declared proudly.

Dany glimpsed back at the bastard knight and read surprise on his face.

“Does my plan stun you, bastard?” her brother taunted the young man.

The bastard balled his fists, but remained composed.

“No, your Grace,” he replied through gritted teeth. ”It is a daring plan, but I fear it won’t work the way you invasion it. The Dothraki will antagonize the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms. Even those desperately wishing for a Targaryen restoration would flock to King Robert’s banners if you bring a horde of Dothraki to Westeros.”

Silence followed. It was the kind of silence that precedes a terrible storm.

She needed to act, before it is too late. Lacking a witty answer, she started to giggle.

“Surely, you are jesting Ser Jon?” she asked the bastard knight.”Isn’t true?”

She prayed and hoped, but when the bastard knight’s eyes widened in realization she knew that the he understood her intentions.

“Aye, I was only jesting,” the bastard knight corrected himself and unsheathed his blade to lay it before her brother’s feet. “I understand why you are refusing Prince Doran’s offer, but there is another reason I came here. Prince Doran tasked me to pledge my sword to you and your sister.”

Viserys refusal came as expected, but the way he made it known was quite childish.

He rose from his seat and kicked Ser Jon’s blade away.

“I have no use for a bastard knight and a traitor’s son!” her brother declared and smiled smugly.

Even the timid squire started to glare at Viserys.

Dany used the moment of distraction and went to pick up the blade. The shining metal reflected her pale face back to her.

She exhaled deeply and mustered her courage.

She was sick of bowing to Viserys whims and handed the blade back to the bastard knight.

“My brother may not have use of your blade, Ser Jon,” she told him and shivered. ”But I am prepared to accept your pledge.”

The bastard knight regarded her quietly, his starlit eyes wide in surprise.

Then he bowed his head in acceptance.

“I would be honored, Princess Daenerys."

...

Chapter Text

Jon

Jon watched the ongoing celebrations with grim fascination. The Khal brought his whole khalasar, all forty thousand Dothraki warriors and an uncountable number of women, children and slaves. Their camps lay outside of the city and were accompanied by a vast horde of animals.

The ceremony began at dawn, when the first red streaks became visible on the distant horizon.

It was strangely fitting, because the Dothraki didn’t celebrate weddings like common men. There was plenty of drinking and feasting, but at least a dozen of battles that ended with a dead wedding guest.

Edric was captivated by all this excitement. He eyed the Dothraki with wide eyes and continued to needle Ser Jorah Mormont with a never-ending stream of questions. The grim man hailed from the North was one a sellsword and pledged his sword to Viserys Targaryen. That he was an exile made him apparently more trustworthy than a knight sworn to House Martell.

This whole wedding was nothing more than a farce. The Dothraki horde won’t win Prince Viserys the crown he desperately desires. Whether it was pride or madness that blinded Prince Viserys was another question that occupied his mind.

Princess Daenerys shared little of her brother’s volatile temper. She gave the appearance of a shy girl, trying to cope with her brother’s foolishness.

It had taken all his composure when Viserys Targaryen started to spread his delusions. Even in Dorne the Mad King is widely reviled, but it seems Viserys Targaryen believes that his Lord Father was a gentle ruler that was unreasonably deposed.

And now I have to serve him, Jon thought and balled his fists. Well, not him. His sister.

“Do you think we will have to wear painted vests like the Dothraki?” Edric asked innocently as ever. They were seated next to Ser Jorah while Prince Viserys lounged in a gilded chair next to Magister Mopatis.

“I rather keep my armor,” Jon replied. ”Besides, you won’t accompany me. You will take the next ship home. Your father would have my head if something happened to you.”

“But I am your squire!” Edric insisted and shook his head in refusal.”And I want to see the Dothraki Sea!”

“You are a boy of twelve and one of us needs to report to Prince Doran,” Jon explained and remained firm.”You have your task and I have mine."

Not that this task promised much pleasure. Viserys Targaryen disliked him and the glowering Northman Ser Jorah showed no promise. He was quite polite in the beginning, but grew cold after Viserys Targaryen introduced him as “Stark’s bastard”.

Another mystery to solve.

“I refuse to go!” Edric insisted stubbornly.”I won’t leave your side.”

Jon sighed and ruffled the boy’s hair.”I appreciate your concern, but my decision is made. Magister Illyrio will make sure that you are able to return to Starfall.”

“But…,” Edric said and opened his mouth in protest, but Jon’s piercing look silenced him. Finally, the boy’s shoulders slacked in defeat and acceptance showed on his face.

“Alright,” Edric said and sounded very distraught.”But I need your promise that you will return soon."

Jon sighed and gave him a sad smile.”I can’t promise that. I will have to remain here as long as I am needed. I pledged my sword.”

“You did, but I am sure Prince Doran would understand if you change your mind,” Edric whispered. ”The Prince has no manners.”

“I know” Jon replied. ”But I pledged my sword to Princess Daenerys.”

Edric frowned and inclined his head to look at Princess Daenerys, seated next to Khal Drogo.

The Dothraki only cut their hair when they are defeated in battle, Ser Jorah had told them not Long ago. Khal Drogo’s braid reached to his ankles, which betrayed his abilities as a warrior.

His bloodriders were equally impressive, thought quite boisterous. They drank and laughed and Jon felt almost out of place in their presence. That he wasn’t able speak Dothraki helped to isolate him only more. He tried to pick up a few words, but his resolve didn’t show much success.

The Princess looked terrified, but more at ease than in company of her vicious brother.

“She looks a bit like Aunt Allyria. They have similar eyes,” Edric remarked and Jon nodded his head in agreement, though that was where their resemblance ended. Aunt Allyria was tall like his Lady Mother while Princess Daenerys was short and dainty.

“Do you want more food?” a girl asked in Bastard Valyrian. It was one of the slave girls gifted to Princess Daenerys. She was very pretty, graced with golden hair and blue eyes.

Doreah, he recalled her name. Jon was full, but he eyed the plate with great curiosity. There laid out on a silver plate were steaming joints of meat, thick black sausages and Dothraki blood pies.

“I am not hungry,” he refused politely and shifted his attention to Edric.”Are you hungry?”

Edric gave the girl a hesitant look and picked one of the sausages from the plate.

”Thank you, my Lady,” he added shyly and received. Doreah smiled, surprise lightening up her features. Yet she remained silent and moved on to offer the food to the other guests.

“Why did she give me such a strange look?” Edric asked and looked rather flustered.

Jon couldn’t help but to laugh.

“She is a slave. I don’t think she is used to such politeness,” Jon explained and his squire’s eyes widened in understanding.

“Do you think I insulted her?” Edric asked and sounded anxious.

“I doubt that,” Jon assured him with a smile.”I think she appreciated your kindness. She smiled.”

An hour later Doreah returned, a smile curling on her lips as she offered them sweet grass and cakes. Edric was delighted, but that was no surprise. His cousin always had a sweet tooth, much to the derision of his Lady mother.

Truly, it could have been a pleasant evening, but when one of the Dothraki warriors started to mount one of the half-naked dancers Edric was promptly sent to bed.

Shortly after the next highlight began. Two Dothraki warriors started to attack each other with their curved blades also called arakhs. It was like a dance of death and blood, but it was the first time that Jon felt a hint of companionship for the Dothraki. The song of steel was familiar to him, though he has yet to kill a man for sport.

“It is quit the spectacle, isn’t it?” a soft voice called him back to the present. It was Doreah.

This close she was even prettier. Her face was round and her full lips were reminiscent of fresh fruits. Her proximity rekindled something inside him and made him wonder what it would feel like to touch his lips to hers. He hadn’t lain with a woman for nearly a year.

Not that he was someone who indulged in women, but it was hard to escape such temptations while serving Prince Oberyn Martell. Jon had resisted for a long time, mostly out of respect for his Lady Mother, but after his fourteen nameday Prince Oberyn declared it is time shed the cloak of maidenhood. It was nothing but embarrassing, but in time Jon learned to like it.

“Quite the spectacle,” Jon agreed with a hesitant smile. ”Their blades are fascinating.”

“The Dothraki swear on sharpness of their blades,” Doreah and smiled seductively, before smoothing her hand over the pommel of his sword. ”But I am sure your blade is just as sharp.”

Jon doubted she meant his sword and returned her smile.

“My Uncle’s blade is the sharpest blade I have ever wielded. It is called Dawn and pale like the moon. They say it was forged from a falling star.”

He doubted this was the answer she expected to hear, but her smile didn’t falter.

“Your Uncle is a lucky man,” Doreah remarked replied and showed her white teeth.

“My Uncle is dead,” he corrected her. ”Nobody wields his sword, though my Uncle hopes to give it to my cousin Edric once he is capable enough to wield it.”

“The young boy with the silver hair?” Doreah asked Jon was surprised that she remembered him.

“Aye, that was Edric.”

She smiled and moved closer, her breath ticking his cheek, but the pounding of the drums directed her attention away from him.

“It is time for the gifts!” Doreah exclaimed and clapped her hands together.

Jon and Doreah watched as the gifts were placed beneath Prince Daenerys’ feet. He spotted three chests filled with dresses, jewels and other valuable trinkets.

Then came Ser Jorah and gifted the Princess a stack of old dusty books.

Histories and songs from the Seven Kingdoms, he explained and a small smile played on her lips.

It made him wish that Prince Doran chose books from his liberary instead of chests filled with dresses and jewels.

It made him wish that Prince Doran gave him books from his renowned library instead of the chests filled with dresses and jewels.

Next came Magister Illyrio, who presented the Princess with a great cedar chest bound in bronze. Princess Daenerys’ face was filled with wonder and it made him want to be closer to see the Magister’s gift.

At last Jon was called forward to present his gifts.

“Prince Doran sends you silk and gold of a Princess of Dragonstone. Princess Arianne took utmost care to choose each item,” he explained and was relieved when he saw a smile curling on her lips.

“Princess Arianne is the eldest child of Prince Doran, isn’t she?” Princess Daenerys asked meekly, but Jon also saw curiosity shining in her purple eyes.

“Indeed,” Jon confirmed.”She is Prince Doran’s oldest child and heir. I am sure she would be pleased to meet you.”

Princess’ Daenerys’ smile brightened. ”I share this sentiment. Maybe I will be able to meet her once my brother sails for the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jon bowed his head in acknowledgement.”Edric will relay your massage to Princess Arianne.”

He didn’t know why, but he a strange sort of melancholy washed over him as he watched the Khal present Princess Daenerys with a white horse. The Princess seemed elated, but he couldn’t but to notice her youth. That her sacrifice won’t be much worth in the grand scheme of things left a bitter taste in his mouth and stirred treacherous thoughts.

What would Prince Viserys do if he stole the Princess away? He doubted a fool like him would be able to stop him. The Dothraki Khal was another matter, but Jon doubted he would be able to follow him across the Narrow Sea.

It was a silly notion. The Princess had no reason to trust him. He was a stranger and nothing more.

“It seems my Mistress is pleased with her gift,” Doreah remarked.

Jon didn’t answer. He watched Princess Daenerys gallop away on her white horse, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust in her wake.

“You seem lost,” Doreah remarked softly, her hand touching his shoulder.

“I am just tired,” he replied and rose to his feet. “I thank you for your pleasant company."

…

Daenerys

The Dothraki Sea lay before her and her old life behind her. It was no real sea, but a plain so immense and empty that she was beginning to doubt it had an end.

At times it was difficult to accept that this life was no part of her reality, a reality far kinder from what awaited her every night.

She had travelled through half of Essos and knew what people did under the sheets, but she derived no pleasure from the act like her brother did with when he bedded one of his pleasure slaves.

Yet she decided from the beginning that she wouldn’t complain like her brother.

It came as no surprise that this kind of life didn’t suit him. He should have taken Magister Illyrio’s offer and remained in his villa in Pentos, but her proved stubborn as ever and wanted to make sure that the Khal keeps his promise. Dany hoped it was true, but she didn’t know the Khal’s mind. He hardly spoke her language, though her handmaids have been trying to teach her.

Her sworn swords proved not better. The bloodriders, like the Khal, spoke only Dothraki. Ser Jorah was helpful and always ready to provide her with necessary information, but at times she found him to eager.

Only she was riding her Silver she forgot about her sorrow, but it didn’t help to ease her loneliness. She hardly knew him and her life in the Free Cities instilled her with natural distrust for strangers.

Then there was the bastard knight and his wayward squire. He actually intended to send his squire home to Dorne, but the young boy brazenly disobeyed his command. It was two days after they departed from Pentos that one of the riders found him half dead on a horse.

She clearly recalled the anger and fear written on the bastard knight’s face. Three days he spent nursing the boy back to health. She knew that the boy was his cousin, but whenever Dany saw them in each other’s company they gave the appearance of brothers, though they showed little resemblance to each other.

Yet the bastard knight didn’t refrain from giving his squire a proper punishment. For three days he had the boy walk by foot next to his horse. It must have been a humiliating experience for the boy, but she sensed that he expected this this kind of punishment.

And yet she kept her distance from the bastard knight and his squire.

The fact that he is Eddard Stark’s bastard discouraged her. Viserys never failed mention that the Starks are traitors who helped the Usurper to steal their Lord Father’s crown.

Is he an enemy or a friend?

Maybe you should speak to him, the quiet voice in her mind told her and made her turn around to look at the bastard knight.

His squire was strolling next to his horse, though he sometimes allowed the boy to ride with him if he grew tired. Then they spent their time whispering to each other and pointing at things in the distance. It looked like they are playing a silly game or that is what she told herself.

It was such simplicity she missed, though she would never dare to reveal these thoughts openly. Viserys would only scoff at her and call her a silly child.

Yet she couldn’t help, but to watch them.

He immediately tensed and bowed his head in acknowledgment of her presence.

“May I be of service…Princess…I mean Khaleesi?” he asked and she felt great satisfaction that he called her by her preferred title. She kindly asked of Viserys to do the same but he only scoffed at her, but didn’t dare to do much more in presence of her sworn swords.

He is afraid of them.

Forcing a smile on her lips she wrecked her brain to find a way to strike up a conversation.

“When you came to Pentos you mentioned that your Uncle served my brother Rhaegar. I would like to hear more about this Uncle of yours. You sounded as if you admire him greatly.”

She read surprise on his face, but it was hard to be sure. He was such a guarded person and so unlike her quick-tempered brother.

“I do,” he confirmed and led his horse closer so she didn’t have to raise her voice. ”My mother told me that her brother was Prince Rhaegar’s most trusted companion and that they were as close as brothers.”

Daenerys was stunned by his words.

Close as brothers. Another thing Viserys didn’t know. Foolish as he was he even insulted Ser Arthur Dayne's nephew.

“You mentioned his passing. My brother failed to tell me how it happened,” she explained hesitatingly. ”Would you tell me about it?”

Subtle sadness showed on his face, but he answered her question with honesty.

“He was killed when my father Eddard Stark tried to retrieve his sister Lady Lyanna Stark from a tower in Dorne. The Kingsguard was there to protect her. All of them died safe for my father and another man…I forgot his name. It was no use…Lady Lyanna perished anyway…It was a fever I think. To be honest…I don’t like the tale and my Lady Mother shares this sentiment,” he explained and searched her gaze.

“I apologize if my tale caused you sadness,” He added quickly and she felt a gust of warmth washing over her.  Viserys never enquired if his actions made her sad.

“Do not fret about it. I asked you a question and you answered honestly,” she assured him with a smile.

“Do you have further questions?” he offered. ”My squire is off bothering Ser Jorah. I have time to spare.”

She was hesitant, but longed for answers to her numerous questions.

“I would like that,” she replied at last.

Ser Jon nodded his head.

”Well, then ask away.”

“You mentioned your mother,” she began. “How is she related to all of this?”

His usually guarded face softened instantly.

“Her name is Lady Ashara Dayne and she was a close friend of Princess Elia, though she doesn’t like speaking about her. She says it makes her sad,” Sir Jon explained and Daenerys knew what he was referring to.

“If your Lady mother was her friend she surely shared some happy memories with the Princess,” Daenerys countered.

The bastard knight pondered her words for a brief moment, before a look of recognition washed over his longish face. His face was long and gave him a rather severe look, but his straight nose and full lips helped to soften is features considerably. He was quite comely, she found.

“My mother never spoke with me about such things, but I squired for Princess Elia’s brother. He told me that she had quite the temper if something displeased her. Once she broke his nose for making an inappropriate comment about one of her friends.”

“What was her brother’s name again?” she asked and the young man seemed suddenly eager to share his stories. His usually guarded face was suddenly awash with emotions. It seems Prince Doran’s brother meant much to him.

“Prince Oberyn Martell is a far-travelled man and is commonly known as the Viper. He has seven bastard daughters who like to dub themselves the Sandsnakes. They are a bit wild, but they are good company.”

His words rekindled the anger she harbored for her brother.

If not for my foolish brother I would be in Dorne and wed to a Prince of Dorne. I would have a home and people who are longing for my presence. The First Daenerys wed into House Martell. Why couldn’t I be the second one?

Leading her horse a little closer continued to pose her next question. “What you said about the Dothraki…is it true?”

Her question seemed to bother the bastard knight, because his face changed back to its guarded expression.

“What exactly are you referring to, Khaleesi?” he asked quietly.

“You said that a Dothraki Horde would anger the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms…Is it true?”

He gave her a hesitant nod.

”I am not sure if it is my place to…,” he began, but she cut him off.

“You may speak freely to me. My brother is not here to disturb us,” she declared and he finally spoke.

“The Dothraki are valiant soldiers, but Westeros has castles and the knights have armor thick with steel.  The Dothraki have none of that. Yet that is not my only concern. The Dothraki are known as barbarians. The Lords of the Seven Kingdoms will see them as nothing more than foreign invaders. If your brother wants to sit the Iron Throne he needs to learn to control the Dothraki and turned them into a proper army. Yet what I have seen of him isn’t very promising. I think he lacks the abilities do accomplish such a feat.”

Dany was stunned to silence, her old beliefs fighting for dominance over this bitter truth.

“But he is the rightful heir. My brother says the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms are drinking toasts to his health and are suppressed under the usurper’s ill-rule.”

The moment of silence that followed told her everything she needed to know. Was all of it a lie?

“Please tell me the truth!” she prodded, unable to endure the silence spreading between them.

He exhaled deeply and answered.

“All I can tell you is this: There are those who have not forgotten the misfortune that befell your family, but there are also those who remember the Mad King. I don’t know what your brother told you about your father, but even in Dorne your father’s name is cursed. Your brother Prince Rhaegar was the beacon of hope everyone was looking out for. I even heard that your brother intended to depose his father the Mad King.”

She listened eagerly, though every word pouring out of his words felt like a slap in the face.

It was the last push she needed to ask the question that had been ailing her since the moment she saw the anger in Ser Jon’s face when her brother called his Uncle’s execution an act of righteousness.

“Your Uncle’s execution by my Lord Father’s orders wasn’t a righteous act, was it?”

He sighed and gave her a sad look.

“Righteousness is a matter of perspective. All I know is that my Uncle came to demand his sister back and dared to threaten your brother’s life. Your father imprisoned him and his father Lord Rickard came before the Mad King and speak for his son. My Uncle Brandon chose trial by combat, but your Lord father chose fire as his champion. Even my valiant Uncle was unable to compete against such a deadly foe. Well, his death wasn’t caused by fire. My Uncle strangled himself to death while your Lord Father burned his father alive. Yet it wasn’t this act of cruelty that set the Rebellion in motion, but the Mad King’s decision to call for Robert Baratheon’s and my father’s head. Lord Arryn, their guardian had no other choice but to defend his wards or to submit to the King’s will. You know what decision he made.

Dany felt numb and unable to breathe.

Viserys never told her any of this.

“Khaleesi…!” the distant voice of Ser Jon called her back to the present moment. “I feared the truth might disturb you. I shouldn't have told you," he whispered, but she cut him off.

“On the contrary. I am grateful that you told me the truth,” she assured him, though what he told her did indeed disturb her.

Surprise was shone in his dark eyes, but she only received a wordless nod of acceptance when she was longing to see his smile.

…

Chapter Text

Daenerys

Dany listened to the rustling fire and watched her eggs. They were more precious than all the jewels she possessed and in her dreams they always turned into winged creatures lifting her into the air. She knew that they were dead, but her dreams made her believe otherwise.

Dreams. It was the only comfort in this place.

A few days ago she had her moon blood. It came with aching pains and the usual stream of blood. She was sure that her handmaids reported everything to her husband, but the worst reaction came from her brother.

If you don’t welp him a son he won’t give me my crown, he had raged and even dared to lay a hand on her. Yet the bloodriders let their whips sing and Ser Jorah and Ser Jon helped restrain her raging brother.

She was used to his rages, but the bloodriders were not. They didn’t hesitate to handle him roughly and his arm received bloody bruises from the whips.

At such times she hated her brother, but then she recalled the old Viserys. Once a long time ago he carried her on his shoulders through the Free Cities and protected her from the Usurper’s swords. Now his greed and ambitions robbed him off all his kindness.

And yet he is my brother, she knew. My last living relative. He is all that I have left.

This knowledge was the only reasons she didn’t have her brother’s hand hacked off for his actions. Instead she chose the punishment Ser Jon gave to his squire. The bloodriders took away his horse and he had to walk by foot. Deep in her heart she hoped that it might teach him manners, but her brother was a lost cause.

After a day he whimpered and whined like a little maid over his sore feet. It made the bloodriders dub him Khal Rhae Mhar, the Sorefoot King. After a while her husband took pity on him and offered him a place in a cart, though Dany believed it was because he couldn’t endure her brother’s whining.

Her brother even took it as a sign of respect, but in reality he was mocked by everybody. The carts were meant for the eunuchs, cripples and woman giving birth and so he got his second name. Khal Rhaggat, the Cart King.

It only confirmed her greatest fear: that her brother will never get them home. Not only Ser Jon, but also Ser Jorah alluded to it.

Her brother was the blood of the dragon, but will never be a King.

Yet she planned out these evening in order soothe her brother’s anger. It was an old song.

He is my blood, she reminded herself. I need to show him that he belongs. Maybe that will soothe his rage.

She even got him gifts that she thought fitting and sent out Doreah to inquire if he would be pleased to sup with her.

“When will Khal Rhaggat come to see us?” Jhiqui, one of her handmaids asked. She was copper-skinned and her eyes dark like the starry night sky.

She stifled a laugh when she heard her brother’s nickname, but she couldn’t help but to mildly scold her for her words.

 “Please don’t call him that. He is a fool, but still my brother,” she told the girl who lowered her head in understanding. Dany added a soft smile to make it known to her that she wasn’t really angry with her.

“I hope they will come soon. The meat is always the best when it is freshly roasted. It would be a waste if my brother were to pass on your great cooking.”

So while Jhiqui continued to roast the meat with sweet grass and firepods Dany laid out the gifts she intended for her brother. A tunic and leggings of crisp white linen, leather sandals, a bronze medallion belt and a leather vest painted with fire-breathing dragons. The dragons were Doreah’s idea and she hoped her brother will appreciate it.

It was exactly in this peaceful moment that Viserys arrived like a raging sandstorm whirling up her world.

He stood in her tent, his violet eyes piercing and his hair wild. Behind him he dragged a struggling Doreah.  Her face was bloody and her eyes red from crying.

“How dare you send this whore to give me commands!” he shouted and shoved Doreah on the ground.

“I only did as you commanded me, Khaleesi,” Doreah spluttered through gritted teeth.

“Nobody commands the dragon!” Viserys snapped and stepped over a squirming Doreah, making his was towards her. Dany was torn between rage and fear.

As a peace offering she sent her bloodriders and Ser Jon away and Ser Jorah rode out in company of the Khal. To hunt, she recalled vaguely, but the Khal took little time to speak with her apart from their nightly rituals.

Now with her moon blood upon her he avoided visiting her. At first she was mystified by this, but Jhiqui had explained to her patiently as ever. The Dothraki associate blood with death and thus the time of a woman’s blood made her a bringer of death during her moonblood and for several days afterwards.

She had called herself lucky for a few peaceful nights, but now even this little happiness was taken away by her brother's ill-temper.

She backed away from her brother, bumping against the wooden caskets hiding her dragon eggs. Her heart was fluttering and the world around her grew blurred and distant.

 “Nobody wants to command you, brother!” she told him and slipped back into her old meek self. It was a role she perfected over the years, but this time it was no use.

It seems the hard days on the streets only worsened her brother’s temper.

“Yet you dare!” he snapped and grabbed her arm. He was taller than and continued to pull on her arm. She struggled hoping to find a way to escape.”You want me to call you Queen! You allow your barbaric riders to humiliate me! And you are whispering with that bastard that is spreading lies about our father! I call that trying to command me!”

She grabbed his hand with both her hands and tried to ease his tight grip, but she slipped when he yanked her braided hair. The pain made her grind her teeth together to find relief, but it couldn’t soothe the growing rage and frustration.

Whatever she did displeased him. She was sick of his behavior.

“I asked you kindly and I saved your life. The bloodriders wanted to cut off your hand,” she snapped back, all fear forgotten.

“You dare to talk back!” he snapped and twisted her hair. Yet in this moment her pain was not discernable from the anger brewing in her gut.

”I am the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms,” he repeated his old prayer and leaned down to look into her eyes.

“Is that clear?” he asked and twisted again. Dany used that moment of stillness and grabbed for a shock of his hair, yanking equally hard.

Viserys yelped in pain and retaliated. He pulled again and this time the pain was so burning it drew blood from her lips.

When she looked up at him he held a shock of her silver hair in her hand.

Her hand went involuntarily to the source of the pain. She felt warm blood trickle on her fingers, but she had no time to dwell on it.

“How dare you wake the dragon!” he shouted again and he started to pull on her clothes.”I only gave you to the Khal, because I have need of his men. You belong to me….I should make that clear to him…I should show him his place!” he added and a malicious smile passed over his bloodless lips.

This spurred her back to action. She struggled under his weight her fingers digging into his face. She kicked and hit him and he yelped and tried to still her hands. It was struggle that seemed to last forever until someone yanked him off her.

“How dare you! Unhand me!” he shouted at the bastard knight, struggling like a little boy against the firm grip around his upper body.

Viserys was huffing and puffing, his face red in rage and covered in bruises from her fingernails. The old Dany might have regretted it, but it was the warm feeling of revenge that filled her in that moment.

“Are you well, Khaleesi?,” she heard Jhiqui’s gentle whisper, but it was Doreah she was searching for. She felt relieve wash over her when she saw her standing at the entrance of the tent. Next to her hovered young Erich Dayne who hovered over her as if he hoped his presence might help to soothe her handmaid’s pain.

“I am well,” she assured Jhiqui while she straightened her clothes. She needed a little help to get up, but she soon found a semblance of composure.

 “What should be done with him?” Ser Jon asked her, grim and rage hidden behind his solemn features.

“I said unhand me!” Viserys demanded again in an ever-rising voice.”Unhand me at once!”

It made Dany’s head wince and she wanted him to be silent.

“Unhand him,” she told him at last and the bastard knight gave her an unbelieving look. She needed time to decide what to do with her brother.

”Unhand him. He is not worth our attention,” she repeated her command and felt her heart harden.

She tried and tried, but her patience was at an end.

Ser Jon hesitated, but at last he let go of her brother. Her brother was barely able to keep himself upright, but he didn’t fail to fling a threat at them.

“You will come to rue this day!” he shouted at her and looked around in the room.”One day I will have all of their heads and then I will lay them beneath your feet, sweet sister!”

Then he staggered out of the tent and took all his misery with him.

All the rage and anger dissipated and she was only left with her fear and doubts.

She wanted to weep, to hurt him, to leave this place, everything at once.

“You are bleeding!” Jhiqui exclaimed and gently touched her bleeding scalp where Viserys tore out  a shock of her hair.

“It is nothing,” she told her and moved towards Ser Jon.

“You should tell the Khal. He will have him punished for this,” he told her and deduced from his expression that he would have liked to do so himself.

She nodded her head, feeling disoriented and dirty.

I need fresh air, she thought. And cool water. I need to get away.

“You cannot allow him to act like this. Who knows what he will do next time,” she heard Ser Jon’s words.

“He would skin him alive. I hate him, but he is my brother…my blood,” she told him, but it was not that she didn’t intend to punish him, but now she only wanted to get away.

 “I need to wash myself,” she told him.”I need to get away.”

“The Khal will not like that,” he told her, but she didn’t care what the Khal thought. He was far away and enjoying himself with Ser Jorah.

“You pledged your sword to me!” she told him and to her it sounded almost like begging. Am I becoming my brother? No, a Queen doesn’t beg.”I will go alone if you are not up for it!”

His starlit eyes widened and she saw the hesitation, but in the end he yielded to her wishes.

With an unhappy expression on his face he turned back to his squire and the ailing Doreah.”Please take care of the ladies while we are gone, Edric.”

…

Jon

The full moon lightened their path through the swaying grass. Jon knew it was a mistake, but it was hard to deny her wish when she reminded him of his pledge.

He squeezed his eyes together as he looked ahead. His own horse was dark and hardly visible, but the horse of the Princess was a bright shimmer of pale silver. Pale like the silver hair swaying behind her like a veil. Half of it was still braided while the other half flowed freely over her shoulders. There was blood as well, but she didn’t allow him to take a closer look.

She didn’t even allow her handmaids to touch her. Instead she commanded him to follow her out here into the wilderness.

He knew of course what happened in the tent. The distorted state of her clothes and the marks of her fingernails on her brother's face told him everything he needed to know. Prince Viserys tried more than usual.

“Princess! Khaleesi!” he called after her, though he knew it was in vain. She ignored him and didn’t listen. She only drove her Silver forward as if she was running away from some unseen enemy hiding in the shadows.

It made him wish that he killed Viserys, but then he wouldn’t be able to return home.

“Princess!” he shouted again kicking his feet into the sides of his horse.”Where the fuck are we going?”

It was his desperation speaking. He had no in depth-knowledge of the surroundings and feared she might lead them too far away.

Soon even time became a blurred concept. How many hours since they left? One or two, he couldn’t say.

She ignored him again and urged her horse faster. This felt more like one of Elia Sand’s horse races. More than once Jon participated in them, but unlike here they were usually accompanied by the warm sunshine of Dorne.

Here only the icy night air and the stars were their silent specters.

After an eternity the Princess finally stopped her horse.

When she turned back to him her face was illuminated by the moonlight and gave her an almost ghost-like appearance.

“There is a river over there,” she told him, her voice emotionless and distant.”I remember it from our morning ride.”

Without another word spoken she climbed from her horse and led her Silver through the high reeds, swaying around her like the rolling waves of the sea.

Not wasting any time he climbed from his horse and followed after her.

“I see!” he called after her.”And what will you do there?”

She ignored him, or maybe she didn’t hear him properly, but she continued to fend her way through the high reeds. Left and right the grass slapped in his face, brushed his hands and grasped for his cloak.

He sighed in relief when they left the maze of reeds behind them and the boots sunk into the muddy ground.

Then he brushed another tack of reeds aside and found a clean slate of darkness stretching before him. The surface of the water looked like glass, capturing the glitter of the stars and moonlight.

“It is beautiful,” he managed to say, his voice strained.

She ignored him again and started to pull on her clothes. Jon was momentarily confused, but when she pulled her painted vest over her head he understood her intentions.

I need to wash, she had told him earlier, though he was unsure if it was the blood or her brother’s touch she wanted to forget.

Jon knew he should have turned around, but he feared that she might drown in the dark waves of the water.

She gasped a little, probably feeling the cold touch of the water, but that didn’t stop her from dipping her head under the dark surface. For a brief moment he wanted to follow her into the water, but then he he realized that she needed this.

I need to wash, she had told him and thus he sat down to wait.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but he felt relief when she finally came out of the water. She was shaking, but looked well.

He pulled the cloak from his shoulders and made his way towards her. She instantly understood his intention and picked the piece of garment from his hands, before winding it around her naked form.

“My clothes are wet,” she told him and settled down on one of the stones littering the waterside.”A fire would be good, but I doubt that is possible. We will have to wait.”

Jon gave her an affirming nod, but wasn’t really happy about the situation.”You wanted to leave in such a hurry. I had no time to think about that.”

He expected a scolding remark, but she actually started to laugh.

“I suppose so,” she added and pulled the cloak tighter around herself. It was hard to make out her full features. Only half her face was illuminated by the moon.”It is not so bad. It will only take an hour or two to get back to the camp.”

An hour, Jon wondered. It felt like half an eternity.

“Are you at least feeling better?” he asked, not really knowing what to say. He hardly knew her, though she often asked him questions about his home when they were travelling through the never-ending Dothraki Sea.

Her smile was long gone. She only gave him an empty nod and tossed a stone into the river.

“I liked it,” she added, her voice strained and sad.”I enjoyed digging my fingers into my brother’s face. I liked it when he yelped like a little child. I enjoyed hurting him. Maybe it is true what they say. Maybe it is the blood we share that fuels this anger.”

Jon was stunned by her words. There was no doubt that Viserys was mad, but she had none of his cruelty.

“Your anger is understandable,” he told her and hoped his words would be able to soothe her pain.”I have not known you for long, but the fact that you feel regret over it shows that you are not like your brother.”

She averted her gaze, pulling the grass from the muddy ground. It was a long heavy pause that passed until she spoke again.

“My brother was not always like this. We used to live in a house with servants and an old knight cared for us. One day he died and we were cast out on the street. It was Viserys who protected me and fed me. It was during this time that he started to grow unstable, but it was only after he sold my mother’s crown that he extended his cruelty towards me. He started accusing me of silly thing like not being borne earlier. He thought that my brother wouldn’t have run off with your Aunt if my brother Rhaegar had a sister to wed,” she explained and a pained smile showed on her shadowed features.

“Do you know what I replied to his silly accusations?”

”What did you say?”

“Maybe it is you who should have been born a girl as you are the older one of us two,” she replied and gave a hollow laugh.

 “Well, I doubt his reaction was pleasant,” he remarked hesitatingly.”But I think he will remember this night. The marks in his face will be apparent for quite some time.”

“He will never forgive me,” she told him and the certainty in her voice frightened him a little.”I tried to make peace with him. I really tried, but he is making it impossible,” she explained, her voice full of emotion.”I don’t want to think about will happen to him…I just want to leave.”

Jon knew it was impossible, at least for the moment. He knew she wanted to get here to distract herself, but telling lies wouldn’t serve their situation.

“We are weeks away from the next city. We would starve to death and I have no knowledge about these lands like the Dothraki do. They would find us and then we would all die,” he told her, but regretted his words when he saw he grief-wrung features.

 “I wish…,” she began, but her voice faltered. He saw tears glittering under her leashes and felt like someone plunged a dagger into his heart.”I wish my brother wasn’t such a fool and he agreed to Prince Doran’s offer.”

He moved closer and put a hand on her shoulder.

He expected her to move away, but instead she wound her hand around his shoulder.

He didn’t dare to move, but her strands of silver hair tickled his face.

He carefully inclined his head and searched for the bloody wound, but it seemed the water washed away the worst of it.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice strangely distant while he traced the wound with his fingers. She didn’t flinch away, but shivered a little.

“A little, but I had worse, though will be a lot of work for Doreah to hide it,” she explained and her voice ringed with laughter.

“By tomorrow people will know what your brother did,” he reminded her and realized that this was another mistake when her grip tightened and her nails dug into his shoulder. It was a sweet pain.

Then she looked up and her small hands touched his cheek.”Do you always have to remind me of the truth?”

A laugh escaped Jon, because she was not the first person to say that about him.

“People keep reminding me…,” he whispered and felt her hand travel down his neck and coming to rest on his shoulder. Then she hoisted herself up and ended up in his lap.

He should have told her to stop, but he felt strangely comfortable. Since Tyene he hadn’t felt so comfortable.

“You shouldn’t ….,” he whispered to her, but the familiar feeling of blurriness overcame him. He felt again like a little boy. His hands were getting wet, his knees weak, and his stomach cramped with excitement. Even his heart jumped when he felt her soft curves nestling against his body.

He tried to suppress it, but his heart began to flutter involuntarily in his chest. He even heard his breathing hitch when she slipped her hand into his pants, touching him down there.

As she rubbed him gently, she put her soft lips to his neck. Tenderly she sucked for a moment at the spot directly over his pulse.

It was too much. He could no longer resist and touched her cheek, to pull her face close to his lips. She laughed and with one hand she pulled his cloak off her shoulders.

Then she laughed again when he stroked her stomach, though it sounded more like a giggle.

“Stop…,” she scolded him gently.”I am ticklish.”

“I see,” he replied with a breathless sigh on her lips as he touched her breasts. She didn’t seem to mind his attentions as she wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him closer.

Without thinking, he locked her in his arms and kissed her again.

She stormily deepened the kiss, not allowing him catch his breath while she loosened the bindings on his pants.

Between their heated kisses she pushed her leg over his waist and groaned softly when she felt his obvious desire.

For a moment he stopped. He didn’t know what brought it on, but for a moment he only felt the touch of her hands on his cheek and the cool night air blowing through the reeds.

His mouth felt dry. He couldn’t speak, but in the end he proved weak  and brought her lips back to his. He was eager to taste them again and the sensation gave him a warm tingling sensation that filled him from head to toe.

With one fast change of position she eased him inside her. Suddenly everything was on fire and it felt like he was swallowed up by flames. Everything around him was wiped away, just vanishing from his thoughts.

Soon their kisses become more urgent and her nails were digging for support into his skin as she moved harder and faster.

His heart was beating wildly, his moans accompanying hers as she continued to move her hips.

He kissed her, trying to stifle his own and her cries. He too was panting with effort and lost himself to another roll of her hips.

When he came back to himself he felt the soothing touch of her hand on his face.

He felt shame, happiness and anger. All at once, but it was all brushed away when she touched her lips to his again.

…

Chapter Text

Daenerys

The sight of the Horse Gate of Vaes Dothrak filled her both with awe and dread. I was made of two gigantic bronze stallions, rearing, their hooves meeting a hundred feet above the roadway to form a pointed arch.

It was a mighty gate for a city without walls and prominent buildings. There was only the thunder of the horse hooves and the purple mountains rising in the distance.

It is beautiful, she thought and recalled Jon’s words. Weeks have passed since that night, but it sill made her cheeks glow. She acted like a fool, but her brother’s actions had shocked her more than she expected. It was not unusual for him to show his temper, but what he tried was another matter. Even as a young child he often told her that he will wed her and bed her one day. On good days he even called her his Queen and put their mother’s crown upon her head. Then he pretended to be the King he thought he was destined to be. It was another folly, but at least it was born from goodness and not cruelty. Now she couldn’t even look at him.

Not that he dared to get too close these days. She kept the bloodriders, Ser Jorah and Jon close. She also kept her handmaids close as she feared that her brother might try to hurt them.

You should have killed him, an all too familiar voice whispered to her, but then she not only be a Kinslayer, but also a Kingslayer. Their mother crowned him and he was the older son. He was the Beggar King, but a King nonetheless.

I can’t kill him, she knew but that didn’t mean she would give him further attention.

Let him fend for himself, she thought and let her gaze wander over to Doreah. The sat perched on her horse and was talking Edric Dayne, who was now wearing a painted vest. Even his longish hair was braided. He also took up riding among the Dothraki boys and often participated in their games.

Jon himself was even more guarded than usual. She couldn’t say if he felt or if he was just angry, but his behavior hurt her. It wasn’t like she forced him into anything. She wouldn’t have held it against him if he refused her.

At first she didn’t know why she even did it, but over the last weeks her voice has been clearing. It was her way breaking from her brother. Everything she did was always for him, to please him and to get him his crown. She wed the Khal to win him an army, she endured his attentions every night, but not even once did she receive a thank you from her brother. His attempt to…was the last straw.

Was it so wrong of her to find pleasure otherwise?

“You are looking tired, Khaleesi,” Ser Jorah remarked. He was not wearing his cloak and his head was covered in sweat. Off in the distance Jon was now galloping in company of the bloodriders. They were were talking to him, though she doubted he understood them. She knew that he has been trying to learn their language, but he wasn’t as quick as his young cousin.

Banishing those thoughts away she turned her attention to Ser Jorah.

“It is true. It could be the heat,” she confirmed. The tiredness came a few days ago and Doreah told her that she was feeling much the same due to the heat, but then Dany hardly ever felt the heat.

“It is true. The heat is quite stifling,” Ser Jorah replied with a wry smile and jerked his head towards Jon.”He is feeling it as well. He even dropped his pretty cloak. I am surprised he held out this long, but then he grew up in Dorne while I am a man of the North.”

Dany nodded her head, but wished he chose another topic. She didn’t wish to think about Westeros or Jon.

Letting her gaze sweep over the surroundings she decided to change the topic herself.

“I am wondering where the city is?” she asked.

“Hidden under the Mountains,” Ser Jorah explained while they passed the odd statues looming at either side of the gate. There were images of forgotten deities, stone kings looking down at her, maidens of marble and other monsters she only knew from her brother’s stories. There were dragons, roaring griffins, manticores and many other beasts she was unable to put a name on.

“They were stolen from distant lands,” Ser Jorah told her when he noticed her staring at the dragons. They were black beasts with sharp fangs and glittering jewels. It made her wonder if her stone eggs held marvelous creatures like this.

“Where do you think they found these dragon statues?” she asked curiously.

Ser Jorah smiled sadly.”They could have found it in a ruin or maybe they stole it from a rich merchant who dreamed about dragons.”

His words filled her with sadness, but she averted her gaze. She can’t allow herself to show weakness.

I have to be better than my brother, she thought. I should also speak to Jon. He has no reason to feel ashamed nor do I.

I am a dragon, she reminded herself and feigned a smile.

“What will happen now that we are in Vaes Dothrak?” she asked while they passed a place that was reminiscent of a bazaar or market.

“They will eventually present you to the Dosh Khaleen, who are dwelling in the secret city with their slaves and servants,” Ser Jorah explained and Dany wondered if she will even be able to understand them. Her Dothraki has certainly improved over the last weeks, but she still felt like a foreigner.

 “When does one join the Dosh Khaleen?”

“They will send you there after the Khal’s death, to reside there forever,” he replied gently.

The idea of residing here forever made her shudder. She was only five and ten. She was unable to imagine being locked away in such a place when the world was awaiting her outside.

The old knight seemed to sense her fear and smiled reassuringly.”Do not fret. That lies far off in the future.”

“I see,” was all she managed to reply while she prodded her Silver forward to follow after the others. Soon a large cavernous building made of wood and covered with a roof of sewn silk appeared.

It was the Khal’s palace and an army of slaves awaited them upon their arrival. Soon they swarmed around like bees around a honey pot and started collecting the weapons of the riders.

This surprised not only her, but also Jon and young Edric. Gladly, Ser Jorah provided them with the necessary information.

“No man is allowed to carry a blade in Vaes Dothrak . Even the Khal has to obey these rules.”

“I see,” Jon remarked quietly.”Is it perhaps similar to the custom of offering salt and bread we have in the Seven Kingdoms?”

“It is similar,” Ser Jorah confirmed.”In this place, the crones of the Dosh Khaleen decreed that all Dothraki are one blood, one khalasar and one herd. Thus nobody has the right to shed blood.”

“Then it is best to adhere to this law,” Jon remarked and handed his blade to one of the slaves.”I know the story of a man who once broke the guest right and ended up eating his own kin as punishment.”

“That sounds gruesome,” Dany remarked more quietly than she intended. She didn’t look at him and kept her gaze fixed on his squire Edric, who was nodding his head in agreement.

“The story of the Rat Cook,” the boy said and put a name on the tale.”I haven’t been able to sleep for nearly a week after Obara told me this story.”

“Even I know this story,” Ser Jorah added.”My mother told it to me when I was a little boy. I was just as frightened.”

“Well, the tale is meant to keep people from breaking the guest right. The story wouldn’t be much of use if it wasn’t frightening,” Jon countered and pulled Edric along after Ser Jorah.

Daenerys was shown to her own dwelling where she was finally able to take a proper bath. The water scalding like always and she asked Doreah and the other two girls to join her, but they refused, believing that the water would burn off their skin.

Instead they spent preparing the food. It was again horseflesh roasted over an open pit and accompanied by peas.

Slipping out of the water she put on a robe and joined her handmaids.

“Yesterday I asked him again and he refused me the third time. I think this Westerosi is no man at all…,” Doreah remarked and made the other two girls laugh.

“Ser Jorah?” Dany asked as he was the first Westerosi that came to her mind.

“I heard Ser Jorah was once wed…maybe he is still hankering after his wife,” she added and settled down on the cushioned seats.

“We are not speaking of the grim Bear man…we are talking about the other one…the pretty one,” Doreah remarked and looked very amused.

“Jon?” Dany asked and when Doreah nodded her head in affirmation she couldn’t help, but laugh. It was a ridiculous belief considering…

“Why do you think that?”

“I asked him several times and every time he refused my company,” Doreah explained and wrinkled her brows.”Isn’t that strange?”

And it was strange, but she brushed those thoughts away before they could take hold of her confused mind. It was too dangerous, too tempting to think like that. It was also foolish and dangerous.

It matters not, she told herself. I have to speak to him anyway.

Thus once they had eaten she put on a proper dress and asked Doreah to inform his squire that she wished to see Jon. She also sent her handmaids away to do some unimportant task.

“You called for me,” he said politely as he entered. It was the first time since that he was looking at her directly.

I need to make him understand, she told herself and granted him a smile.

“I did,” she confirmed and pointed at the cushioned seat opposite of her.

“There is food left if you are hungry. Irri made it,” she explained quietly. Most of the meat was gone, but only offered it, because she didn’t know who to start the conversation.

“Thank you,” he replied equally quiet, his dark hair falling into his face.”I am not hungry. I have had enough horseflesh.”

His comment made her smile and she held out a goblet of wine for him.”It is good wine…probably not as good as the wine in Dorne, but it has an interesting taste.”

Jon picked the goblet from her hand and brought it to his lips. He winced at the taste, but then he smiled clumsily.

“This wine is burning away the tongue,” he said and put the goblet down.”I also doubt that you called me here to taste strange wine, have you?” he asked and she nodded her head in affirmation.

She exhaled deeply and posed her question.

“Are you perhaps angry with me?” she asked and winced at her choice of words. She was supposed to be a dragon, but she voiced her words like a little girl.

Yet when she appraised his features she only found surprise.

 “Angry?” he asked.”Why would I be angry with you?”

“You know why,” she prodded.”Why else have you been avoiding me?”

He frowned and rubbed his neck.

“That was not my intention at all. I just thought it would be better to keep distance. It would be quite dangerous if somebody found out.”

She was stunned. She wanted to call him a fool, but instead she laughed.

“Well, next time…please tell me about your intentions. I thought you were angry,” she told him and he nodded his head in understanding.

 “I also thought that you were angry with me,” he replied honestly.”You know why.”

“It was on my initiative…I was foolish,” she admitted, „though I didn’t dislike it. As you said…we have to be careful.”

She wasn’t sure, but for a moment she believed to see a hint of disappointment on his face.

…

Jon

The arrow hissed through the air and hit the target right in the middle. It was a sack made of sand and hay with a circle drawn on the front. Left and right missed arrows littered the ground, but this one wasn’t one of them.

“Did you see?” Edric called out to him, his blue eyes sparkling like stars.

Jon nodded his head and smiled down at the younger boy.”I saw it. You are a natural at this. Yet your sword training still needs a lot of work.”

Edric frowned, not liking the reminder about his training with the blade. To some people it came natural, but Edric wasn’t one of these people. He wasn’t even bad, but his father expected him to live up to his Uncle Arthur Dayne, who was more than a passable swordsman. It made him wish for Edric’s father to be here and see his son’s prowess with the bow. Shooting an arrow from a running horse was not something many people in Westeros were familiar with. Even archers were often looked down on by the mounted knights, but to combine both was a clever idea. The Dothraki may lack proper armor, but there was no doubt that they could instill fear into their enemies.

“Now it is your turn,” Edric remarked cheerfully and cleared the way. Jon returned his smile and balanced the spear in his hand. In Dorne the spear was a favored weapon and he learned all its uses from Prince Oberyn. This spear was shorter than the normal Dornish speak, but that didn’t matter.

Driving his horse forward he straightened in his seat and focused on the target, before thrusting the spear forward. It didn’t exactly hit the middle, but it wasn’t far off. Happy with the result, he leaned down and pulled the spear out, before returning to the Princess, who sat surrounded by her handmaids and the bloodriders.

By now Jon knew their names even he was hardly able to converse with them.

There was Jhogo, who was thin man with a faint shadow of a mustache. He was also a fearless rider and always quick to make a jape.

The second one Aggo was grim, big-shouldered and had a messy beard. He hardly spoke to Jon and preferred Ser Jorah’s company. At first Jon thought he mistrusted him, but Ser Jorah explained to him that he thought Jon was a girl when he first laid eyes on him.

The third one Rhakaro was of a similar age to Jhogo and proudly sported a drooping mustache.

“That spear of your is fast and sharp,” Jhogo remarked and laughed at the same time.”I still prefer my boy and arakh. When you go home one day you should teach your people how it is done.”

Jon liked the idea, though he doubted that the Dornish knights would agree with Jhogo’s notion. They think of the Dothraki as savages and learning from them was the last thing that would come to their mind.

“I will try,” he replied and ruffled through his sweaty hair. The sun was mercilessly burning down on them and the only shade they had were a few thin trees. It was only here, far away from the city that they were allowed to use their weapons.

“Thank you for showing me,” the Princess remarked and rose from her seat under one of the shady trees.

Then she moved over to Rhakaro who placed a light bow in her arms.

“Wish me luck,” she added with a quick smile climbed on her Silver.

It was the third time that they came here so the Princess could learn the art of the bow. Jon wasn’t sure what brought it on, but he had his suspicions.

It has to do with her brother, he believed, though the Prince hasn’t dared to get close to her since the incident weeks ago. He still carried the marks of her nails on his face, but when the Khal asked about it the Princess told him that her brother merely got into a brawl with one of her handmaids and earned himself a beating in return. The Khal had boomed with laughter and no further questions were asked.

Yet Jon doubted this was the last they saw of Viserys.

The best would be to bind him on a horse and send him back to Pentos, he thought and watched the Princess driving her horse towards the target. She was what Oberyn would call a good rider.

Speeding up her horse she straightened in her seat, lifted the bow, pulled backwards and sent the arrow flying towards the target. This time around it hit the edge of the target, but the looking at the brilliant smile on her lips one might have thought she hit the bulleye.

“She is doing better than I thought possible,” Ser Jorah remarked to Aggo. Jon only understood broken pieces of the Dothraki language, but by now he was at least able to understand the gist of most their conversations.

“Other Khals would not like that. Women may ride, but fighting is for warriors,” he remarked gruffly and ruffled through his shaggy beard.

“Other Khals are not Khal Drogo,” Jhogo added with a grin.”And it will make the child of the Khaleesi a warrior!”

His words earned him stunned looks not only by Jon, but also by Ser Jorah, Rhakaro, Aggo and Edric.

A child, Jon thought and felt like someone slapped him him too hard.

“What are you talking about Jhoqo? What child?” Ser Jorah asked.

The young bloodrider grinned from one ear to the other. He was obviously proud that he was the first one to provide them with the news.

“It was with Irri…she told me…it is true!”

 “That is good news, is it not?” Edric piped in his broken Dothraki.

Aggo laughed and patted Edric’s head.”It is…a heir for the Khal means prosperity.”

Jon couldn’t laugh. He felt sick, though the logical part of his mind told him otherwise. The Princess has shared the bed with the Khal for several times since that night.

Angrily he brushed those emotions away and calmed himself. I am being ridiculous, he reprimanded himself and forced a smile on his lips.

“You are looking like a ghost,” Ser Jorah remarked later while they rode back the dusty rode leading back to Vaes Dothrak.

Jon nodded his head and tried to hide his unhappiness. He didn’t trust the man in front of him.

“I am tired. The heat is troublesome,” he told him, hoping it will be enough to silence him.

Ser Jorah moved his horse closer and gave him an unbelieving look.

“I don’t think it is the heat, but something else,” the old knight countered and jerked his head towards the Princess.”And I can’t even fault you for it, my boy. It is hard not to look at her, but you better keep away from her or you will only find an early grave.”

Jon bit his lips, his heart pounding away in his chest. Did he know?

“I know my place,” Jon told him stiffly, gauging his reaction.

“Good,” Ser Jorah replied and a familiar grim expression took hold of his features.“I was once wed to a beauty like her. I won a tourney and crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty, but it was not a happy marriage. It was also the reason I was exiled by your Lord Father, the ever honorable Eddard Stark.

Jon was stunned and finally understood. That is why he dislikes me. I am reminding him of my father.

“I hardly know my father, but my mother never failed to speak well of him,” Jon replied reluctantly.”What crime did you commit?”

His face grew darker and his voice rang low as he answered.”I sold my people into slavery in order to pay my woman’s silk dresses and jewels. I was a fool, but that doesn’t change my dislike for your father. He is the reason I am leading this life.”

Jon didn’t know if he should dislike or pity the man, but he had no interest be his enemy. His exile seems enough of a punishment for him.

“Then I suppose it is hard for you to look at my face,” Jon added.

 “That is so,” Ser Jorah confirmed.”You have his eyes and hair-color.”

“Well, I don’t think we have a reason to dislike each other for something that happened between you and my father, do we?” Jon asked then and forced a smile on his lips”You don’t have to fear me as long as you are loyal to the Princess. This I can promise you.”

Ser Jorah nodded his head and a vague smile showed on his pale lips.”Then we have something in common.”

…

Chapter Text

Edric

It was a starry and peaceful night safe for the sound of drums in the distance. All of them went to attend the ceremony where the Princess was to be presented to the Dosh Khaleen, but Edric had to remain here.

He was now one and three, but Jon still treated him like a little boy.

It isn’t fair, he thought and rose to his feet leaving the safety of his tent behind. Outside a cool breeze was blowing over the mountains as he made his way along the trial leading to the dwelling where the Princess resided with her handmaids. He knew that Doreah was not attending the ceremony and hoped to find company in the girl.

His heart sped up when he spotted her sitting under the light of a lantern while working on a piece of cloth. She was a great weaver too and made all of the Khaleesi’s clothing. Edric recalled that his Lady mother liked to do the same before she grew sick and had to keep to bed.

Thinking about his Lady mother made him a little sad, but he didn’t dwell on it when Doreah straightened and started to wave with her hand.

“Did Ser Jon banish you to bed, my little lord?” she asked and patted on the spot next to her, indicating for him to sit down.

”He thinks I am not old enough to watch the Khaleesi eat a stupid horse heart!” he complained and made Doreah chuckle.

“There is more to the ceremony, little Lord,” she explained softly and smiled down at him.”But as we are both left behind…How about telling me another one of your stories?”

Her words sounded like music to his ears and he nodded enthusiastically.

“What kind of story do you wish to hear?” A sad one? A happy one? Or a scary one?

“A scary one would be appreciated,” she replied and leaned closer, touching his shoulder.”How about the story you mentioned to the Khaleesi?”

“The story of the Rat Cook...,” he told her and tried to recall the tale in all its gory details.

“The Rat Cook was a man of the Night’s Watch serving in the Nightfort…that is an old castle at the Wall. Nobody knows his real name, yet people still remember his deeds. It was when the King came to feast that he served him the most delicious pie. The King praised the cook and even asked for a second pie. Yet the bacon in the pie was no common bacon…,” he said, but faltered when the grip on his shoulder tightened.

 “Please…continue,” she prodded.”What was wrong with the bacon?”

His mouth felt dry, but with a little effort he managed to answer.

“The bacon was no bacon…it was the King’s son.”

Disgust showed on her face.”Why would he do such a thing?”

“I forgot the exact reason, but I think the Rat Cook was wronged by the King and wanted revenge.”

“But that is not the end of the story?” she asked, her eyes glittering like two precious stars.

Her proximity made his head squirm, but in the end he still managed to deliver the gruesome end of the story.

“The gods cursed the cook and transformed him into a massive white rat doomed to be unable to anything but his own children. They say that his descendents are still roaming the Nightfort till this day.”

Surprisingly, the girl started to laugh.”Now I will never be able to look at rats without thinking about this story.”

“Well, the Nightfort is far away, my Lady,” he piped out.

She smiled sweetly and patted his cheek.

“You are sweet boy,” she whispered and leaned closer, her warm breath gracing his cheek.

He wanted to move closer, but the shrill cry of a girl made him back away from Doreah, who didn’t waste any time and rushed towards the entrance of the Khaleesi’s dwelling place.

Fearing for Doreah he rushed after her only to find the Khaleesi’s dwelling place in utter chaos. Cushions, clothing and the belongings were spluttered everywhere.

Irri was also there. Her face was tear-streaked and the hem of her dress all bloody.

Sword, was the first thing that came to Edric’s mind when he let his gaze sweep over the half- lit room.

His suspicion was immediately confirmed when he found the intruder, his silver hair a wild tangle and his violet eyes piercing through the darkness.

“Prince Viserys!” he called out, his eyes fixed on the sharp blade in the young man’s hand.

“King Viserys!” the young man sneered and waved his blade in front of him. Edric moved backwards, placing himself in front of Doreah, who was grouching next to Irri.

Calm yourself, he told himself and eyed his enemy. In his right hand the Prince held his blade and in the other something round and shiny.

It was as one of the eggs gifted to the Princess.

He wants to take the eggs away, Edric realized and braced himself inwardly.

Exhaling deeply he dared to step forward and raised his hands.

“Those eggs belong to your sister the Princess…your Grace,” he added carefully.”They will gut you alive if you take them away.”

“I am the King and I will do as I please, boy!” the Prince snapped back, his face contorted in anger.

“Even if you kill me…you will never make it out alive,” Edric tried to reason with him, yet his words made it only worse. Then a strange, madding grin spread over the Prince’s lips that made Edric shiver.

It is true what Jon said. He is truly mad.

“Do you really think I am afraid of the bastard?” the Prince asked and moved closer.

“Get out of the way or I will gut you from head to toe!” the Prince taunted and grinned. His blade was now dangerously close and his way of escape was at an end when he found himself bumping against the brazier.

“Beg for mercy and I promise you that I will make it quick,” Prince Viserys added, but Edric couldn’t answer. He was desperately scanning the room for a weapon, for something…

He didn’t know if it was a wink of the gods, but there he found the poker meant to stir the hot coals in the brazier.

I can’t hurt a Prince like that, his mind protested momentarily, but then he recalled what the Prince did to Doreah and reached for the poker.

Luckily, the Prince was too engrossed to wave around with his blade in front of Edric’s face.

“What is your answer, little boy? Will you beg for mercy?”

 “I am a Dayne and I don’t beg for mercy!” Edric told him daringly and grabbed the poker tightly, before slashing forward.

The metal met with a clinking sound, but the Prince was able to block his slash. Angrily the young man hacked at him left and right. One cut pierced his tunic, but his fear and anger spurred him on.

The next time he quickly ducked out of the way and slammed the poker on the Prince’s arm.

The young man gave a shriek of pain and Edric made use of this moment. He charged forward and grabbed the Prince’s sword arm, pulling hard until the blade finally slipped out of his hand.

Lacking a weapon the Prince grew wild like a dragon and the both of them came together in a tangle of limps, curses and shouts.

“How dare you raise a hand against your King!” Viserys shrieked and grabbed Edric’s head.

“I will make you pay for your disobedience!” he added and smashed Edric’s head on the floor. Momentarily the word grew blurred, almost distant.

He will kill me, he realized and the fear brought back the strength he believed lost in his struggle. He clawed his fingernails into the Prince’s face and kicked upwards as fast as he was able to manage.

A wail escaped the young man and somehow Edric managed to pull him over, ending perched on the whimpering Prince.

“Traitor!” the Prince mumbled angrily and kept struggling.”I will have your whole family murdered for this treachery!”

Searing anger filled him. He wanted him to stop and to shut his stupid mouth.

“I am no traitor!” Edric snapped back and slammed the young man’s head down on the floor.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, but it felt so good.

He would have killed me. He hurt Doreah and he will hurt more people…

It would so easy, he thought, but someone pulled him off the Prince before he was able to finish this dangerous thought.

“Your Grace!” Ser Jorah shouted and kneeled down next to the unconscious Prince.

All bravery left Edric then. He wanted look away, but he couldn’t help but to look at his handiwork.

The Prince’s face was red from his fingernails and his arm bloody from the hit with the poker.

Ser Jorah shook the Prince, but when he didn’t wake he decided to slap him over the face. Finally, his pale violet eyes opened.

“He is still alive,” Ser Jorah remarked, looking up. It was only now that Edric recognized Jon’s presence.

“Not for long!” Jon hissed, but Ser Jorah kept him away from the Prince.

“Nonsense!” the old knight shouted and grabbed Jon’s shoulder.”They would kill you and the boy. Nobody is allowed to shed blood in this city.”

“It was him who attacked them!” Jon countered his face a grimace of rage.

“It doesn’t matter who started it!” the old bear answered.”The Dothraki won’t understand. The best is to forget about it.”

“Forget?” Jon asked and his eyes widened in disbelief, but he didn’t move.

“Aye, forget,” the old Knight confirmed hoarsely and went to help the disoriented Prince back to his feet.”Your Grace…allow me to escort…,” he began, but Prince Viserys cut him off and slapped his hand away.

“I don’t want to be escorted!” he shouted, his piercing eyes wandering to Jon.”I want you to bring me the boy’s and the bastard’s head! You pledged your sword to me!”

Mormont growled and grabbed the Prince around the neck.”Allow me to advice you, your Grace. Take your horse and leave this city. If it pleases you I could even asked the Khal to send a group of trusted riders to accompany you back to Pentos. It will be a long ride, but Pentos is where you belong.

The Prince’s eyes widened in disbelief, but soon the anger won over and the tried to entangle himself from the old knight’s grip.

“I am your King! You can’t command me!” the young man shouted, but all his struggling was no use. He was caught like a fly in the net of a spider.

“I did not command you, my King,” the old knight replied calmly and tightened his grip.”I was trying to advise you, because there are a lot of people who would love to kill you”, he told the Prince and jerked his head towards Jon.

“Ser Jorah speaks true, but I am not the only one. I am sure the Khal and even his bloodriders would agree with me,” Jon added and moved closer towards the Prince, his eyes black like coals.”That is why you should follow Ser Jorah’s advice. Go to the Princess and ask her kindly to send you back to Pentos or I will cut off your hand the moment we leave this city.”

It was the first time that Jon scared him.

“And I will be pleased to help him,” Ser Jorah stated and gave the Prince a hard shove, making him stumble towards the entrance.

The Prince was speechless and barely able to stand.

“And get rid of your sword,” Ser Jorah added and flung the blade before the Prince’s feet.”The Dothraki don’t make exceptions, not even for Kings.”

Clumsily the Prince picked up his blade and without another word spoken stumbled outside.

“Was it wise to allow him to take the blade?” Jon asked, but Ser Jorah only laughed.

“He would be a fool to carry his blade again.”

…

Jon

The hall was crowded and noisy and the familiar smell of roasted meet lingered in his nose. Both Jon and Jorah were seated in the middle of the hall near a warm firepit. It was a place of honor, but Jon took no pleasure in it. The incident with the Prince was still weighing on his mind.

He and Ser Jorah had been watching the ceremony when Irri and Doreah came to alarm them. Upon their arrival at the Khaleesi’s dwelling place they found Edric bleeding like a pig and the Prince winking around with a blade he shouldn’t have. If the old knight hadn’t been there the Prince would be dead, but now that his mind was clear again Jon realized that the Ser Jorah kept him from committing a folly. Yet it didn’t help to quell his anger. That the Ser Jorah insisted for them to pretend like nothing had happened made it only worse.

“They are coming,” Ser Jorah whispered to him and jerked his head towards the entrance.

The appearance of the Princess was accompanied by loud cheering and shouting, but there was one phrase that stood out.

The stallion that mounts the world, Ser Jorah had translated for him, but Jon was unable to make sense of it. It sounded like an honorable title, but he didn’t wish to ask the old knight again. He feared to appear like a foolish boy.

Then the Khal arrived, dismounted and took his place on the high bench.

The Princess herself was seated on cushioned seats and flanked by Jhiqui and Doreah. All three girls were dressed in fine dresses and their necks and arms were covered in glimmering rings of gold and silver.

“You should drink,” Ser Jorah told him and lifted his goblet of wine. Jon nodded his head, but felt little enthusiasm to follow his advice.

Ser Jorah seemed to sense his ill-mood and patted his shoulder.

“Don’t fret about the boy. Irri will take care of him.”

“I am not fretting about Edric. It is only hard for me to accept that we allowed the Prince to run off without any repercussions. I understand that you don’t wish to worry the Princess, but returning his weapon was foolish.”

“I told you before…Prince Viserys would be a fool to try something. I am also sure that he will remember your threat to hack off his hands.”

Jon nodded his head, though he had his doubts. A madman like Viserys didn’t act like a reasonable man would. He was a man driven by his anger and jealousy.

Jon saw that the old knight wanted to add something, but Jhiqui appeared at their table and interrupted them.

“The Khaleesi asks you to sit with her,” she told them and smiled.

“It would be an honor,” Ser Jorah replied instantly and looked over to Jon, who nodded his head in agreement.

 “Khaleesi,” Ser Jorah greeted and fell to his knees.”I am yours to command.”

“Me too,” Jon added and dropped his head in greeting.

“Please come and sit,” she told them and smiled a little.

“You honor us,” Ser Jorah answered for both of them, before they settled down on the cushioned seats prepared for them.

Then the smile disappeared from the Princess’ lips and worry took hold of her features.

“Have you perhaps seen my brother?” the Princess asked the inevitable question.”I haven’t seen him all day and I worry that he might attempt something stupid.”

“We only met him recently. He tried stealing your eggs, but Edric and Doreah stopped him,” Jon provided quickly, not longer caring about secrecy.  She had every right to know, no matter what Ser Jorah thought on the matter.

Ser Jorah glowered at him, but Jon tried to ignore him. His attention was focused on the Princess.

“My eggs…Why would he take my eggs?” she asked and looked utterly shocked.

“Those eggs of yours are more precious than rubies and diamonds. There are men who would sell their own manhoods to acquire one of your eggs.”

“I don’t care what they are worth for those cock merchants,” she muttered angrily.”They belong to me and Viserys didn’t even have the decency to ask.”

“He did more than that…he is the reason that Irri didn’t come to attend to you. He hurt her and Edric,” Jon added and ignored the glowering looks of the old knight.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked and threw an accusing look at Ser Jorah.

“I wanted to wait until tomorrow,” Ser Jorah supplied apologetically.”Besides, Irri and the boy are well. Your eggs are also saved. Your brother ran off afterwards and we made clear to him that there would be grave consequences if he tried to touch your belongings again.”

 “I see,” she said and tried to smile, but failed miserably.”I thank you again. I will thank Irri and Edric personally.”

“Yet the problem of your brother remains,” Ser Jorah added.”I told him to go back to Pentos, but he refused again.”

A strange expression washed over her face and she bit her lips. Then she glimpsed over to Jon, before turning back to Ser Jorah.

“I will never agree, but I can’t force him to go, can I?” she asked.

“Of course you can,” Jon insisted.”Nobody likes the Prince. I have no doubt that every Dothraki here would be prepared to bind him on a horse and drag him back to Pentos. You only need to give the command,” Jon offered.

“Yet dragging him back to Pentos won’t be enough. He will always remain a danger,” Ser Jorah added and Jon was a little startled by his sudden bluntness.

The Princess’ face grew guarded and he saw the despair in her eyes.

“He is my brother…my only kin. I hate him, but he is my only kin,” she countered softly.  Jon hated him too, but he would be a hypocrite if he were to say that killing a brother would come easy to him. Jon had three brothers he never met, but he couldn’t imagine killing them. A Kinslayer is cursed by the gods and a Kingslayer more so, though recently he was beginning to understand what might have compelled the Kingslayer to stab the Mad King in the back.

“You and your brother are not the only ones left, Khaleesi. In your womb rides the stallion that mounts the world.”

The Princess seemed confused, but Jon finally understood the meaning of the title.

They were referring to the child.

“The stallion is the khal of khals promised in ancient prophecy. He will unite the Dothraki into a single khalasar and ride to the ends of the earth, or so it is promised. All the people of the world will be his herd,” Ser Jorah explained.

How pretty, Jon thought and felt very uncomfortable. The Princess seemed to share his thoughts and glimpsed over to him. It was only a brief moment, but it sent his mind reeling.

“I understand…,” she began, but Doreah’s cry interrupted her.

“Your brother is there!” the golden-haired girl whispered and pointed ahead.

There staggering like a man to deep in his cups appeared the heir to the Iron throne. The marks left by Edric’s fingernails were still marring his cheeks and the wound on his arm was covered by a bloody cloth, but it didn’t keep him from carrying his sword.

All the smiles died when the Dothraki noticed said sword. Jon heard the hissing of curses and threats, but Prince Viserys was blind to them.

“Where is my sister!” he demanded angrily.”I have come for her feast….How dare you fools eat with out your King?” He added and let his gaze sweep over a group of Dothraki warriors.

“Get him out of here!” the Princess commanded quietly to Ser Jorah. His face grew guarded, but for a brief moment Jon believed to see the ghost of a smile playing over his lips.

Yet the Prince drew his blade on the old knight and didn’t allow him to get close.

“Keep your hands off me, traitor!” He hissed, before moving towards Daenerys.

. Jon made an attempt to step forward, but she waved with her hand and went to face her brother.

“Put that blade away, brother. You know the consequences,” she warned him.”For once stop playing the fool!”

Viserys cackled and winked with his blade at the Khal.

“I want what I came for,” he told her and laughed.”I want my crown. He got you, but he never paid for you. Tell him that I want what he promised me or I will take you back.”

It was then that the Khal started to speak. Jon didn’t understand his words, but Jhiqui started to shiver and and whispered something into the Princess’ ears.

A moment of tense silence followed before the Princess turned to the Khal, speaking to him in broken Dothraki.

This time Jon understood, though it were only bits and pieces. She relayed her brother’s demands.

Jon held his breath and looked over to the Khal, who was now descending from his seat, the bells in his hair ringing as he went.

The Khal’s answer came promptly. Jon only understood gold and crown, but the blank look on the Princess’ face told him everything he needed to know.

“What did he say!” Viserys demanded impatiently, his violet eyes fixed on his sister.

“He says that you shall have your golden crown, sweet brother,” she replied quietly, but Jon heard the tremor in her voice.

Viserys smiled like a fool.

“That is all I ever wanted,” he whispered and finally lowered his blade.

Jon saw the Princess shudder when the Khal gave the order to restrain the Prince. One seized his arm while the other one shattered his wrist with a single, sharp twist of his hands. At last another one pulled the sword from his limps fingers.

“Unhand me!” the Prince shouted, realization dawning on his face when the Khal unfastened his belt decorated with medallions made of pure gold. Soon slaves were called forward and a heavy iron stew pot was pulled from the firepit. The food was discarded and the empty pot was placed back on the whispering flames.

Then, almost lazily the Khal tossed the golden belt into the pot.

All was accompanied by the Prince’s whimpering while he watched the medallions turning into liquid gold.

A splendid crown for a King, Jon thought and glimpsed back at the Princess. She stood frozen like a statue carved from stone.

“Sister…please…Dany…sweet sister!” the Beggar King pleaded with her, but there was no answer. All he received was his promised crown.

Even for Jon it was a gruesome sight to behold. The liquid hissed and sang, but his cries were even worse.

It was a relief when he finally grew silent.

Breathing deeply he looked over to Ser Jorah and it didn’t surprise him when he spotted a smile on the man’s lips.

That is why he returned the blade to Prince Viserys, Jon was sure.

It was to rid them of another Mad King.

 …

Daenerys

The retching started after she returned to her dwelling place. She didn’t know if it was the horse heart, but then she also paid witness to her brother’s death.

My brother is dead, she repeated trying to make it clear to herself. She still didn’t know what to feel or to think.

She knew deep in her heart that Viserys wouldn’t have wasted a thought on her if their positions were changed, but she couldn’t help but to feel regret over his death when his pleading words were still echoing in her ears.

In that brief moment he looked like the brother who wept like a child after he was forced to sell their mother’s crown.

Yet she did nothing.

Does that make me a Kinslayer or a Kingslayer, she wondered and laughed. Would the Khal have stopped if I asked it of him? And would have Viserys ever seen reason?

No, came the answer. He would have never stopped. It is better this way.

“Khaleesi…!” the soft whispering of Doreah called her back to the present.”Ser Jon is here. Irri is sleeping and Jhiqui will come with me. I will try calming her down.”

“I thank you,” she replied and searched for the bowl of sweets she prepared.

Jon looked pale, but he forced a smile on his lips.

“I have something for you…for Edric. Doreah told me he likes sweets. I will go and see him once he is better,” she explained and handed him the bowl of sweets.

“I am sure he will appreciate it,” he remarked and smiled a little, „but I doubt sweets will be enough to make him forget about it. He felt quite guilty for hurting your brother. I am not sure how he will take his death.”

 “My brother was a fool…,” she told him and winced at her cold tone.”He carried a blade. He disobeyed the rules…”

“And got a golden crown,” he ended for her. It brought the images back into her mind. Fire cannot kill a dragon, she had told herself. If he was a true dragon he wouldn’t have died that way.

“I didn’t enjoy it…a kinder death would have been better, but he would have never stopped.”

“No,” Jon admitted and squeezed her hand.

She should have reprimanded him, but she didn’t want to.

“He is dead now. What is done cannot be undone,” Jon told her.”Yet there is till the future.”

She knew what he meant, but now she felt torn on the matter.

 “I don’t know what to do…,” she told him honestly, searching his face for a trace of anger.

“You once told me that you want to leave…,” he reminded her and she nodded her head in silence.”At the moment it would be suicide, but there might come a time when it will be possible to leave.”

“That was before the child,” she tried to find a way to voice her conflicting feelings.”Would Prince Doran be able to protect me from the wrath of the Usurper?

“I cannot promise that,” he replied.”But why do you think that you will be safe here? What if that child of yours isn’t a boy?”

“The Crones foretold that the child would be the stallion that mounts the world,” she countered, but fear gripped her at the thought of birthing a girl. She heard of wives being killed or exiled for failing to provide a son.

The grip on her hand tightened and he gave her a wry smile.

“My mother used to tell me that prophecies are nothing but pretty dreams,” he remarked quietly and let go of her hand, before rising back to his feet.

“I pledged my sword to you. We will stay if you say so,” Jon added before turning to leave.

She didn’t know why, but she sprang to her feet and grabbed for his arm.

“I know…I should have told you…about the child, but I don’t know…,” she stuttered weakly.

“Of course,” he told her in a restrained voice.”Don’t fret. I understand your reasons. Besides, we agreed to keep distance.”

“We did,” she confirmed.”But I should have told you.”

He grasped her and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

Then he let her hand drop and granted her a wavering smile.

“We made this featherbed and now we have to lie in it.”

…

Chapter Text

Jon

The blue sky seemed endless and the cool breeze coming from the mountains made the ride to the Western Market almost pleasant. Jon came here now and then, but most of the time it was the Princess who wanted to speak to the foreigners and to buy books for her ever growing collection.

Even today she was riding her Silver, though Jon wondered how comfortable it was with her growing girth. Once he dared to ask her about it and she had laughed telling him that the Dothraki woman ride until the day they give birth.

It confirmed to him that she was trying to conform to the Dothraki, but then she was carrying the stallion that mounts the world if the old crones are to be believed. It was understandable that she was trying to adapt, as her brother was gone. It was all that was left to her.

Yet her smile didn’t quite reach her face when she eyed the stalls of the merchants and traders unloading their many goods. There was locust pie to taste, spellsingers showing off their their abilities and all kind of queer animals to behold; manticores kept in silver cages, grey elephants and strangely striped horses.

“Are you perhaps searching for a weapon?” Daenerys asked him and eyed the blades laid out before a stall. There were longswords, shortswords and all kind of other exotic blades to be found.

“Not for me, but my squire could use another sword,” he explained and granted her a smile.

She nodded her head in return and let her gaze sweep over the bazaar.”When I was a little girl, I loved to play at such a place,” she told him and her eyes darted briefly to Ser Jorah, before returning to Jon.”I used to buy sausages and honeyfingers…Do they have honeyfingers in Dorne?”

Jon wrinkled his brows and tried to recall such a dish.

“You should ask Edric…he likes the sweet stuff,” he offered while his eyes continued to follow Ser Jorah.

He has been strangely distant to the Princess since her brother’s death. He also looked like something was weighing heavily on his mind. Was it regret or something else?

“Ser Jorah told me that he is going to see if there are letters for us,” the Princess explained to him when she saw that he was looking after the disappearing figure of the old knight.”I asked him to go with him, but he rebuffed me. He is moody today.”

Jon nodded his head.”He has been moody since the night your brother was crowned, Khaleesi.”

Her eyes widened.”Maybe I shouldn’t have asked this task of him.”

This roused Jon’s curiosity.”What task did you give him?”

Sadness showed on her face, but she answered nonetheless.

“I asked him to burn my brother’s body and sent his ashes back to Pentos. One far off day I will bring it home and lay it to rest where it belongs. He was a horrible person, but he loved our Lady mother.”

“I think it is something else that is bothering him,” he replied honestly.

She nodded her head and stopped her horse, appraising an elderly woman roasting all kind of different sausages over an open fire.

“Oh, there they are!” she exclaimed and clapped her hands together.”Those sausages are quite similar to those in Pentos.”

Happily the Princess crawled from her horse and stroke up a conversation with the elderly woman. Then she called her handmaids and the blooriders to join them.

The girls grinned and laughed as they ate while the bloodriders sniffed at the grilled meat like dogs. It was quite amusing to behold as Jon knew these men as fearsome warriors when they slashed their blades at him during their mock battles.

“The taste is a little different though,” the Princess remarked after a few bites, but the elderly woman was kind enough to provide them with an answer.”In Pentos they are made of pork, but these are made of horsemeat.”

Horsemeat, Jon thought and was not surprised. The taste of normal meat was almost foreign to him now.

The Princess seemed slightly disappointed, but the fact that it was horsemeat seemed to assure the Dothraki riders enough to demand more.

Thus the morning passed quietly until they came upon a wine merchant offering thimble-sized cups to the passing customers.

“Sweet Reds from Dorne!” he cried out in Dothraki, though Jon didn’t understand the squall of words that followed afterwards. He only paused his muttering when he laid eyes on the Princess and started to blabber away in Bastard Valyrian.

“I would be very pleased to taste this fine summerwine of yours,” she replied and smiled down at him.

Then she inclined her head to look at Jon.”I am sure my sworn sword would also appreciate a cup. He hails from Dorne. It would be like a piece of home for him.”

The man’s eyes widened in understanding and he filled a cup to the brim, before handing it to Jon.

The taste was sweet and familiar. It brought a smile to his lips, but the man didn’t offer the same cup to the Princess.

“I have something far better for you,” he told the Princess;”I have a full casket of dry red wine from the Arbor. Would that please you?”

“It would please me,” she replied and eyed the wooden casket, embellished with a cluster of grapes. Jon knew the sigil, though he had never seen the Reach with his own eyes. The sigil of House Redwyne.

It was a bit of a marvel to him that one could acquire Arbor in such a far away place when this sort of wine was even in Starfall reserved for special days.

“The Princess has no use for this wine of yours,” someone interrupted them, the voice grim and familiar. It was Ser Jorah.

“What is going on?” the Princess asked in confusion, her gaze fluttering to the old knight.”Why are you so impolite?”

Jon doubted that he was trying to be impolite. The old bear wouldn’t make such a fuss without reason. Something was wrong.

“I am thirsty,” the old knight added.”Open it and give me a cup of this fine Arbor wine of yours.”

This seemed to upset the merchant, which made him appear only more suspicious.

“You better obey Ser Jorah,” Jon added warningly.”Maybe you were fooled and this fine Arbor is only a poor imitation. Such things happen. Prince Doran of Dorne once received a casket of wine like this, but it turned out to be nothing more than pisswater.”

The merchant’s face went pale as a sheet.

“This is fine Arbor…,” he stuttered, but the old knight was unyielding.”Give me a cup or I swear that I will use your head to crack open the casket myself.”

“Please open it,” the Princess joined her voice  and then the man finally did as asked. He squirmed and shivered, but still smiled as he handed the cup of wine to Ser Jorah.

The old knight’s face remained grim as he sniffed at the wine. In the end he didn’t drink and handed the cup back to the merchant.

“Drink!”

The man lifted his hands and sweat started to run down his temples.

“Drink!”

Yet the man didn't obey and tried to run off, but Ser Jorah hauled him backwards before he was able to escape.

The man struggled and pleaded with them, but it was no use when the guards protecting the caravan dragged him away. Later he would have to face judgment, but the man’s question of punishment was not occupying Jon’s mind in that moment.

It was another question and it concerned the old knight.

“How did you know that the wine was poisoned?” he asked straight to the point.

In returned he received a cold look.

”This is not the place to talk about such things.”

The Princess nodded her head, her face much paler than before.”Ser Jorah speaks true. We should talk in private.”

Thus they returned to the Princess’ dwelling, but Jon was unable to shrug off the strange feeling he harbored in regards to Ser Jorah.

The feeling only increased when he explained how he found out about the assassination attempt.

“Magister Illyrio wrote us a warning. Robert Baratheon offers lands and lordships for your death and that of your brother,” he explained and showed Jon the letter.

The Princess paled and hugged herself.”It seems the Usurper owes the Khal a lordship,” she added bitterly.

No, it seems King Robert owes the old knight a lordship, Jon thought after he left the Princess, though he would have never dared to voice those thoughts openly.

Yet he couldn’t help but to wreck he brain about the matter.

He returned the sword to Viserys and he knew about the poison. He is also an exile. He said so himself, but then he also saved the Princess today.

None of it made sense, but Jon needed to know. It would not only bring problems for the Princess, but also Prince Doran if he had any contact to King’s Landing.

I need to know, he convinced himself and decided to speak alone to the old knight.

He found him sitting before a rustling fire with a cup of horse milk next to him.

“You missed the Khal’s announcement,” the old knight told him. He looked strangely relieved as if a heavy burden was lifted from his shoulder.

Jon believed to know why. He saved her life. That is the reason for his relief.

“I went to train with Edric. He has been quite eager to improve his swordsmanship since the incident with Prince Viserys,” Jon explained and was startled when Ser Jorah started to laugh.

“Well, at least one positive thing came out of this unfortunate incident,” he remarked.”The incident today also changed the Khal’s mind on the matter of crossing the Narrow Sea. He proclaimed openly that he intends to claim the Iron throne for his son.”

His son, Jon thought and felt the familiar feeling of jealousy kindling in his stomach. He tried to suppress it, but in that moment he was unable to contain his thoughts.

Wouldn’t it be ironic if the Great Khal were to put a bastard on the Iron throne, he wondered and winced.

The idea was inappropriate and so he brushed it away before it could take hold of his mind.

“I am sure the Princess will be pleased,” he replied diplomatically, but couldn’t help but to dig deeper into the matter.

”I suppose you are happy too,” Jon countered.”You will also be able to return home if the Khal were to take the Iron Throne for himself. But if he were to fail…well, he King would surely be pleased that you aided in killing Viserys Targaryen.”

In the blink of a second the old knight’s features tensed.

So it is true, Jon thought and didn’t flinch away from meeting his gaze.

“I don’t understand what you are referring to, my boy,” he replied in a warning tone.

“I am referring to the fact that you returned the blade to the Prince,” Jon replied and moved closer.”You knew that he would attempt something foolish.”

The other man's face remained unreadable, but Jon could see the anger glinting in his grey eyes.

”I made use of the situation. Nothing more,” he replied coldly.”You also wished for his death, didn’t you?”

“It is not the Princes’ death that bothers me, but the fact that you knew about the poisoned wine. There were hundreds of merchants on this market, but you were able to know which one would attempt to poison the Princess.”

“He was suspicious,” Ser Jorah argue.”I serve the Princess. She would be dead by now if it wasn’t for me.”

“Well, maybe you changed your mind then,” Jon replied brazenly. He saw the flash of anger wash over the old knight’s face.

“I am loyal,” was all he hissed back and turned around to leave, but Jon grabbed for his arm and yanked him backwards.

“I have no proof for this, but if anyone of my family came to harm, because you couldn’t shut your mouth…I swear I will make you pay for it!”

Ser Jorah gritted his teeth and pushed Jon away, before rushing away in silent anger.

…

Daenerys

Dany watched the rising plume and listened to the cries of the battle. When she was a little girl her brother told her stories about the Conquest and she recalled even now how she had shivered when he told her how Aegon the Conqueror burned his enemies on the Field of Fire. Later came the tears and Viserys grew very upset with her, calling her a weeping child. If the fools had kneeled they wouldn’t have died, he had told her. Weak fools deserve no mercy.

It was this familiar feeling of dread that settled in her stomach as they drove their horses towards the burning town. Her handmaids smiled and jested with the bloodriders, but she was unable to do so when she appraised the destroyed landscape.

The earth was torn open and the rye trampled into the ground by horse hooves. Everywhere she found arrows sticking in the ground and dying horses littering her path. Not far from them she also found wounded men praying for their lives only to be beheaded by the mercy men armed with their heavy axes.

Yet the smell was the worst. She always wondered wondered why the smell of death had to be sweet.

Wishing to get the smell out of her nose she hurried her handmaids towards to the burning town. There beneath the broken walls, the riders continued to collect the survivors, driving them together like sheep. Among them were men and women from Khal Ogo’s khalasar mixed with the survivors from the town.

It was easy to differentiate between them. The Dothraki walked with pride even when facing bondage, but the survivors of the town looked utterly terrified. Dany couldn’t help but to feel regret and pity for the poor lot. There were mothers carrying their sobbing children, old man barely able to walk and half- dead cripples among them.

Lhazareen they were called, but the Dothraki called them Lamb Men. They were known as herders of sheep and eaters of vegetables. They were peaceful souls meant to be enslaved by the stronger Dothraki. That was at least what the Dothraki believed.

Weak fools deserve no mercy, her brother’s voice ringed in her head. The memory of his death still haunted her, but what darkened her mood only more was the fact that her brother would have enjoyed this sight. He told her often enough what intends to do with the Usurper and his dogs when he takes his rightful place. Pillage and murder was only a small part of it.

As a child she accepted this notion without question. The enemies that betrayed them had to punish for their deeds, but now she was having her doubts. Jon told her that the lords would band together if they were to invade with a horde of Dothraki and now that she witnessed their strength with her own eyes she was starting to believe him.

There will be no toasts for me, she realized as she arrived at the shattered gate of the town. Below the feet of her horse lay a heap of dead children, their backs littered with arrows. The sight sickened her, but she was unable to draw away her eyes until Doreah’s voice called out to her.

“Khaleesi,” the girl called out to her and touched her shoulder.”Ser Jorah…and Ser Jon…are back.”

Relief washed over her and she forced a smile over her lips to greet them. I am a dragon, she told herself. I will not be weak like my brother.

Ser Jorah smiled when he spotted her. Like Jon he wore the garments of a knight and the both of them received mocking words from the Dothraki. Jon ignored the insults at first, but the Ser Jorah didn’t shy away from a fight and in the end the two of them ended up in a brawl with the Dothraki. It was the first time that she saw him use that shiny blade of his outside of a mock battle. She didn’t know many knights, but his cuts were quick and fast like those of Ser Jorah when he left several riders bleeding like pigs.

Now he had fought among the Dothraki, but she deduced from his displeased look that he didn’t enjoy the butchery that was inflicted upon the town. That scared her, for she feared that he might leave her.

“The town is taken,” the old knight told her and granted her an encouraging smile.”The Khal awaits us.”

“I thank you for telling me,” she replied forcing a smile back on her lips, but when she saw the cut above Jon’s eyes it faded immediately.

“What happened to your face?” she asked him, leading her horse a little closer.

“It is nothing, Khaleesi,” he replied, giving her a tight smile. It confirmed her suspicion. He is angry with me, she realized and then she felt the sharp kick of her child.

“It is only a small cut,” Ser Jorah remarked and gave her a strange look. It made her realize how obvious she was. She immediately guarded her face and straightened herself in her saddle.

“And my Lord husband?” she asked then, feigning interest.”Is he well?”

“A few cuts,” Ser Jorah answered.”It is nothing of consequence. He slew two Khals this day. Khal Ogo died first and then his heir son Fogo followed after him.”

The news didn’t surprise her, but their deaths felt surreal when they had feasted with them scarce six moons ago. Now that they left the walls of Vaes Dothrak the rules were changed. Here out in the never-ending Dothraki Sea only the strong were allowed to thrive. Khal Ogo’s khalasar had been attacking the town when Khal Drogo fell upon him. Now he and his boy were dead. She recalled Fogo now, barely a few summers older than Edric Dayne, smiling and jesting with the other Dothraki boys.

“I see,” she replied softly, banishing away those dark thoughts.”We should move on.”

“As you wish,” she heard the old knight’s distant voice ringing in her ears as she drove her horse forward, but even inside the town she found no reprieve from the cruel sights.

Again she saw the warriors going about their bloody business. Some continued the killing of the male inhabitants, but the majority continued to drive the females together to bring them deliverance. The Dothraki called it honoring them, but from the grim look on Jon’s face she doubted that he shared their thoughts. Women in Dorne inherited before their younger brothers and were allowed to carry spears. She doubted the Dornish girls would allow the Dothraki to honor them in this way.

“Most of Khal Ogo’s men had to flee and many more cut off their bells. Your Lord husband took ten-thousand captive.” Ser Jorah explained, but she didn’t really want to think about it. Viserys made war sound like sweet business, but now she only tasted the bitterness of guilt. This was war and the price to gain the Iron Throne.

Was it worth it? She wasn’t sure anymore…

"I advised the Khal to to make for Meereen. There he will find a good price for the slaves…,” he continued to explain, but the heart-throbbing cry of a girl made him stop and turned her attention away.

She searched for the source of the sound and found a group of warriors dragging along a struggling girl. She wasn’t much older than her and sobbing like a child. The sound of it made her skin crawl.

“We should move on,” the old knight reminded her, but she didn’t hear him. The sobbing was too loud.

“Make them stop!” she commanded quietly, but then she decided to apply more force to her voice.”Make them stop!”

Ser Jorah looked perplexed, but Jon’s face softened a little. It spurred her on and she turned face the bloodriders.

“Make them stop!” she ordered loudly.”I want no rape.”

They looked baffled and confused by her command.

“Khaleesi,” Ser Jorah told her in an almost chiding tone.”You don’t understand. This is how it has always been. Those men have shed blood for the Khal and now they are claiming their rightful reward.”

“Are the spoils and the slaves not enough?” Jon asked, his voice tinged with suppressed anger.”Continue like this that girl will die for sure. What kind of coin can the Khal expect for a dead girl?”

He spoke it in broken Dothraki, but from the looks on the bloodrider’s faces she deduced that they understood him well enough.

“She is a Lamb girl,” one of the bloodriders answered, narrowing his dark eyes at Jon.”She is nothing. The riders honor her this way. Their own men are lying with sheep. It is good for them to know a real man.”

“That may be,” Jon replied, his dark grey eyes piercing.”But where I come from men don’t like to pay for ruined girls. Your Khal will need coin to cross over the sea, but if you keep “honoring” those girls you will have none. Think about it. More coin means more ships for the Khal.”

“Jon speaks true,” she agreed, making use of the moment.”And that is why I claim her. I claim her and the other girls. They will not be spoiled, but sold to buy ships.”

The bloodriders didn’t look happy, but she was still their Khaleesi.

“As you say,” Jhoqo replied at last and led the others to their task.

“Go with them and make sure they do what I commanded,” she told Ser Jorah who obeyed without comment, spurring his horse forward. Jon made an attempt to follow, but she stopped him.

“I didn’t take you for a man to go to brothels,” she remarked quietly, but when she saw the anger return to his face she regretted her choice of words.

“Prince Oberyn Martell likes women. It is hard to escape brothels if you are his squire. So yes, I am a man who went to brothels,” he confirmed honest as ever and galloped away.

Left behind she watched as they dealt with the men assaulting the girl. One of them protested, but lost his head before he was able draw his blade. The others also grabbed for their curved blades, but when Ser Jorah jerked his head towards her they dropped their weapons. They cursed, spat on the ground and muttered among each other, but in the end they left the girl alone.

Then she asked of Doreah to take care of the terrified girl while they continued with their task. She claimed as many as she could see, but it didn’t help to alleviate her guilt. Claiming them meant turning them into slaves.

At last they returned to the Khal, who was seated before some sort of a temple made of thick mud walls. Everywhere she looked she found heaps of severed heads, but the Khal looked like he was at home.

True to Ser Jorah’s word he looked unharmed, safe for one arrow sticking from his upper arm. There was another cut on his left chest. It was a shallow cut, but it took away his nipple and the skin was dangling from his chest like a wet rag.

Ser Jorah had called it a cut, but for her it appeared painful.

Yet the Khal seemed unaffected and grinned down at her.”Khal Ogo is dead and his son too. The slaves will bring us many ships.”

He sounded proud and she knew he expected a smile. Thus she gave it to him.

“That is good,” she replied.”I thank you.”

From his grin she deduced that he wanted to add something, but then a mounted warrior came before the Khal and addressed on of the bloodriders. The man spoke in a stream of quick-paced Dothraki she was unable to understand, but realized soon enough that he was very upset.

At last one of the bloodriders explained the man’s intentions.”This one is Mago and he says the Khaleesi took his spoils, a daughter of the lamps who was his to mount.”

Her heartbeat sped up when the Khal turned look at her. His gaze was curious, but she also believed to see displeasure.

“Why did you take the girl?”

“You want to sell the girls for ships. Jon told us that the merchants will pay less coin for them if they are spoiled. That is why I claimed them,” she told him, though it was a lie. She intended to keep them if possible. She knew that she won’t be able to help all of them, but she was also determined to try.

Yet the Khal appeared confused.”My men deserve a reward. The women are our slaves and they do as they please.”

“But it won’t please the merchants. Treat them gently and let us get a good price,” she insisted and trembled.

“And what of the older woman?” the Khal demanded to know.

“Let them work. Give them as wives to riders to raise their children. Some of them are not too old to bear sons.”

Qotho, one of the cruelest members of the bloodriders laughed when he heard her words.”Why should the horse breed with the sheep?”

Anger filled her and sharpened her tongue.”The dragon feeds on horse and sheep alike.”

Her words amused the Khal and he called her fierce, before admonishing the men before him.

They cursed and glowered at her as they left, but she ignored them. She felt relieved and exhaled deeply, be for departing to join her handmaids.

She asked them to prepare a bath to wash away the weariness in her bones, but even the hot boiling water was unable to wash away the dread she felt. Later she asked her handmaids to bring the girls she claimed from the riders. Most of them were young and the Khal allowed her to choose what to do with them. Half of them will have to be sold, but then it was probably more pleasant to serve in a brothel than being mounted by the sort of Mago.

The older women proved more difficult, but Irri proved a grew help. She was able to provide her with the names of the older riders, who were known to have a clam temper and already graced with several sons. She intended to gift the women to them and hoped that they will find a new home among the Dothraki.

At last only one woman remained. It was a maegi or and Irri told her that no rider would accept someone like her as a wife, even if she went to her knees to beg it of the Khal.

“What is your name?” she asked the woman, hoping to find out more about her.”What can you do? Irri told me you are a maegi.”

The squat woman smiled and lowered her head to her, but Dany saw the distrust glinting in her dark eyes.

“They call me Mirri Maz Duur. I am a godswife of this temple. I can heal.”

This piqued her interest.

“Where did you learn healing?”

“My mother thought me. She was a godswife and taught me all the songs and spells most pleasing to the Great Shepard. I also learned how to make sacred smokes and ointments from leaf and root. When I was younger I went to Asshai by the Shadow to learn from their mages, but I studied under many more. A moonsinger thought me her birthing songs, a learned woman from your people taught me the magic of grass and corn and horse and a Maester from the Sunset Kingdoms opened a body for me and showed me all the secrets that lie beneath the skin.”

“Truly…a Maester from my home?” she asked.”What was his name?”

“Marwyn and he had many links of metal around his neck. He said they are proof for his gained wisdom.”

Dany smiled, for that was something she knew. Jon told her that all lords in the Seven Kingdoms employed such Maesters. To find someone who trained under one was not the same, but it was better than nothing.

It also gave her an idea.

“Birthing songs…I heard you speak of birthing songs…;” she began, but the woman was quick to answer.

“I know every secret about the bloody bed nor have I ever lost a babe,” she replied and eyed her stomach.

“My time will come in a few moons. I will have use of a gifted midwife like you, if it would please you to aide me.”

The woman smiled and bowed her head, her eyes returning to her stomach.

“I can tell you more if you care. I can read the fortune from blood,” she explained.”I could read it for that child of yours.”

“The crones foretold that my son will be the stallion who mounts the world…,” she began, but the woman cut her off.

“Blood is more reliable….there is great power in blood, but I won’t force you,” she replied, but Dany couldn’t help, but to feel curious.

“What would you need for this reading?”

A ghost of a smile tugged on the maegi’s lips.”A drop of blood. Nothing more.”

“Well, I think I can handle that,” Dany replied and searched for the blades that Irri uses to cut the sweet grass. With concentrated effort she cut her finger and drew blood, before stretching out her hand towards the maegi.

Then the maegi grasped her hand and sucked the blood from her finger, before closing her eyes for a long time.

Then, suddenly, her eyes opened and a curious look washed over her face.

“That child of yours is no stallion…it is a dragon….a dragon and something else…I have never seen such a creature…it looks like a dog, but bigger,” she explained, while Dany pondered over her words, but the only fitting animal that came to her mind was something she didn’t think possible…

“A wolf,” she provided then.”A dragon wolf.”

The maegi nodded her head and Dany moved closer.”Will it live…will its future be kind?”

Then the maegi’s face darkened again.”It will live…but the future is uncertain. Fate is like the seasons…it changes all the time.”

Relief filled and she drew another drop of blood from her fingers.

“Can you read my fortune?” she asked and the maegi repeated her actions, sucking the blood from her finger.

“What do you wish to know?”

“Will I ever see my home? Will I be welcomed?” she asked.

“You will return, but the land will be in the claws of winter. I see discord and blood, but fate is always changing. I fear I can’t tell you more.”

This disappointed her, but then Jon told her once that prophecies were nothing more than pretty dreams.

…

Chapter Text

Jon

The sun was merciless, burning down on them like the breath of hell. Jon brushed away the sweat from his brows and narrowed his eyes against the bright sun. For days it has been like this and only the night provided them with some sort of comfort.

Yet the heat was not their only worry. The Khal was sick or dying. Jon wasn’t sure, but the way he sat slumped on his horse wasn’t very promising.

It wound he took in the Lhazareen town must have festered, he guessed, though only a Maester would be able to tell them for sure.

Despite this they continued with their travel, though the growing unease was palpable among his riders. Jon saw them observe the Khal and mutter under their breath. Jon couldn’t understand all of it, but he knew what they were thinking. Ser Jorah, who had been avoiding him since their confrontation, put it into clear words.

The Dothraki abhor weakness. If he dies the other bloodriders will fight for the role of Khal and we will be caught among it.

They are waiting for him to die, he knew and let his gaze wander to the Princess. She rode flanked by her handmaids, her cheeks red from the merciless sunlight. For Doreah it was even worse. Her fair skin was littered with small bubbles.

“It is getting worse,” the Ser Jorah remarked grimly as ever. Jon looked up and nodded his head. He was still torn on the man, but now was not the time to make enemies. All things said the old knight still saved the Princess’ life on that day. The bear seemed to sense this as well and warmed up to him again, or maybe he just temporarily forgot about his grudge in the face of uncertainty.

“The wound might have festered,” Jon replied.”I have heard of knights dying from a simple cut. First it festers and then comes the fever. At this rate it won’t be long. What should we do?”

Ser Jorah frowned, his grim look unyielding as ever.

“We will have to leave. They will try to drag the Princess back to the Dosh Khaleen or even attempt to kill her. The new Khal will not tolerate an heir to compete with his position…,” the other man replied, but their conversation was cut off when the caravan of horses stopped.

The Khal fell from his horse and lay sprawled in the dirt.

“And now it begins,” he heard the whispering of the old knight. The bloodriders and others were now building a ring among the Khal, gawking and staring. Jon and the Ser Jorah had to brush them aside to get to the Princess, who was shouting orders at Haggo, one of the Khal’s bloodriders.

“We will make camp here…,” she told him firmly, but the bloodrider made his disagreement known.

“This is no place to camp, Khalessi,” the man replied, his face grim and his dark eyes lingering on the unconscious Khal.

"It is not for you to command us,” Qotho, another bloodrider added.”Only the Khal can do so.”

Jon saw the anger glinting beneath her purple eyes. She looked weary, her face sweaty from the long ride. Carrying that swollen belly of hers must have worn her out.

“We have to camp here. The Khal needs rest. Tell the others that the Khal commanded it and if they ask tell them that it is because of my child. Tell them that I was unable to continue. Nobody will think weak of your Khal if you are afraid about that,” she countered, her voice rising in strength.”Now get the slaves to build the camp. We need a tent to shield him from the sun”

Yet Qotho remained stubborn.

”You cannot command me…,” he repeated, but the Princess snapped back at him, her voice ringing with frustration.

“Go and do as I say or I will the Khal take your head once he returns to strength. I am sure you remember the crowning of my brother?”

The bloodrider’s face remained impassive, but Jon believed to see a hint of fear in his eyes of flint.

At last he obeyed, wheeling his horse around and galloping off to fulfill his task. Jon saw the relief washing over her face and then the crowd finally started to disperse.

“It will not be enough,” Ser Jorah remarked.”The Khal needs help. A healer…a Maester would be best.”

She nodded and gave them each a wry smile.”I have no Maester at hand, but there is this woman from the Lhazareen town. She is among the other slaves. I asked her to stay to be my birth maid. She told me that she trained under a Maester named Marwyn. Mayhaps I could have her take a look at him.”

Ser Jorah looked skeptical.”What is her name? I will bring her to you.”

“Mirri Maz Durr, a godwife of the Lhazareen,” she answered and the knight went off to fulfill his task.

Jon remained, lingering next to her like a shadow while the slaves erected the tent. Then Jon and the bloodriders carried the unconscious Khal inside, placing him on a woven mat.

The Princess had her handmaids strip off his vest and leggings, but Jon doubted that it will be much use. When he laid eyes on the wound his fear was confirmed. The wound was red and full of pus, the smell foul and sweet at once.

“It has festered,” Jon whispered and she nodded her head in understanding.

”I know, but if he dies all is lost,” she told him and trembled.”They will kill us all.”

Jon felt sick, but this was no time to show weakness.”Nobody will kill you. Ser Jorah and I will take you away if it comes to the worst.”

”Where to? The desert?” she asked, her laugh hollow and lost.”And I won’t go without Irri, Doreah and Jhiqui. They would rape and kill them.”

“Of course,” he confirmed and patted her shoulder.”We will take them with us.”

“Now sit down and rest. Let Irri and Jhiqui do their work. Let us wait for the maegi and then we will decide what to do next,” he told her and led her over to heap of cushions.

He made an attempt to leave, but she grabbed for his arm and pulled him backwards.”Please bring me my eggs. You know where they are. They will help to ease my mind.”

"Of course," he replied and went to retrieve the eggs. A smile curled on her lips when he opened the wooden box for her. She was now lying on a heap of cushion, her eyes heavy and narrowed.

“Give them to me,” she told him and he put to box down to pick out the eggs. He had seen them several times, but never once did he touch them. He picked the green-golden egg first and was surprised how warm they they felt.

She placed them on the cushions, letting her hands wander over their surface.

“Ser Jorah told me that they are more precious than jewels or gold. I could sell of them to buy an army or ships,” she whispered to him, but he deduced from her facial expression that this was not what she really wanted to do. 

“Nothing is set in stone. First we need to get away,” he whispered to back and he knew that he chose the right words when she started to smile.

It was then that Ser Jorah returned in company of a woman dressed in simple brown robes. Her dark hair was long, braided and her dark eyes blinking like two stars.

“I bring you Miri Mazz Durr,” he announced and made his way over to the Princess, who pulled herself up and smiled at him and the woman.

”I thank you,” she replied, before shifting her attention to the woman.

“The Khal is sick. I ask you to help him if it is in your power to do so,” she asked of the woman, who nodded her head in acknowledgement.

“I will do all I can,” she replied and went to inspect the wound. She did so for a long time and her expression throughout the whole inspection remained impassive, even cold.

She holds no love for the Khal, he realized, but that was no surprise to him. His khalasar raped and pillaged her home.

Finally, she lifted her head and shifted her attention back to the Princess.”The wound is full of puss. I could make a tea to ease the pain and the fever, but I can’t keep him alive forever. He won’t make it through the night.”

The Princess’ face was grim, but accepting. It was no surprise to her, but it was grave news for all of them. 

“We will have to leave then?” she asked, brushing sweat from her brows. Even here under the in tent it was stifling hot.”But where to?”

“Asshai lies far to the south, at the end of the known world, but they say it has a great port. We could find a ship to take us back to Pentos or to any of the known cities where the Usurper’s swords can’t reach us,” Ser Jorah suggested.

“It will be hard for only the three of us to keep the Princess safe,” Jon added.”We will also need food, water and horses. Who will we take with us and who will remain? The best would be to leave tonight.”

Ser Jorah nodded, brushing over his beard.”Jon speaks true. It will be hard to go alone. Do you trust the bloodriders the Khal swore to you? Would they come with us if we asked them?”

“The Khal commanded them to keep me safe, but I am not sure. Food and horses will be less of a problem though,” she explained softly.

Ser Jorah jerked his head and rose to his feet.”Then we will go tonight, but who else will come?”

The Princess sighed deeply and looked incredible sad. Jon wanted nothing more than to go and embrace her, to say something to soothe her, but that was not his place.”Irri, Jhiqui and Doreah. I can’t trust the bloodriders. I don't want to risk anything."

“Let us come with you,” the maegi added desperately.”There are a few girls left among the slaves that once belonged to my town. Help them and I will make sure that we will safely make it through the Red Waste. I know my way, I can lead you.”

A Dothraki rider would have been better, but beggars can’t be choosers.

The Princess seemed to agree with this and gave the maegi a weak smile, before turning to Ser Jorah.”Take her and free the slaves. Be careful and if anybody asks about them tell them that I have need of them to tend to my needs. A lie won’t matter when we are gone tomorrow.”

“It will do as you wish,” Ser Jorah replied and disappeared through the flaps of the tent.

Then the Princess called for her handmaids and explained their intentions while Jon did the same with Edric. There was a brief discussion, but none of them refused. Jon sensed that they were very well aware what the death of the Khal will mean for them all.

Then they went to work. Irri and Jhiqui brought the food and helped packing their few belongings and only a few hours later Ser Jorah came to join them with the horses. In counting they were ten people. There was the Princess, Jon, Ser Jorah, the three handmaids, Edric, the maegi and the three Lhazareen girls. 

If we make it through the waste I will be able to go home, he thought as he watched out on the never-ending sea of stars.

 …

Daenerys

The horizon was a bleeding red as the sun rose beyond the horizon. Even in the morning the air was hot and stifling. At times it was hard to breathe and she longed for a bath or just to dip a cold cloth of water on her brow. Yet they couldn’t waste their water when the way before them seemed endless.

Two days they have ridden without without making camp. The only time they stopped was to water their horses.

By now her limps felt numb and swollen, but she knew that it would be dangerous to stop. Whenever Ser Jorah or Jon turned around she trembled and feared to find a horde of riders storming towards them.

That she was feeling considerably worse with every passing day didn’t help either. The heat made her tired and times she even bled, though the maegi assured her that it was normal. Every time she feared the worst, but when she felt the kick of her child she knew that the words of the maegi were true.

Soon, she thought and hoped that by then they will have found a city or a town to rest. I can’t have my child in the waste.

“Khaleesi, they are back,” she heard Doreah’s distant voice calling out to her.

Daenerys exhaled deeply and straightened herself, before shielding her face against the brightening sun. An hour ago Jon and Edric went to ride forward in hopes of finding a water place for the horses while Ser Jorah was guarding their rear, his blade ready to strike at any coming enemy.

Quickly she inclined her head and searched for Jon and his squire.

Edric winked and smiled at Doreah. Even Jon smiled a little, though he looked just as bad. His dark hair was drenched with sweat, his cheeks red from the heat and his face hollow. Edric had it worse. His face was red like a lobster, even though he wore a cloth wrapped around his head.

“Did you find something?”

Jon dropped his head and smiled through his cracked lips.”The maegi speaks true. There behind the rocky mountains is a small water place. It would also be good place to rest.”

"We cannot rest,” Ser Jorah hissed and interrupted their conversation. Daenerys inclined her head to the side. She hasn't even recognized his presence until now.

The heat is affecting my mind, she told herself and gave Ser Jorah a smile.”I agree with Jon. We are exhausted. A few hours of rest will be enough. Riding through the night will be more pleasant.”

 Ser Jorah clearly disapproved, but it seemed her pleading words helped to soften his stance.

“Khaleesi…if they find us…,” he protested weakly, but Daenerys cut him off. She didn't like to plead, but then she also had to think of her child and the others. Doreah was barely able to sit on her horse and Edric looked like he was burning alive.

“Didn’t you just tell me yesterday that we would have seen a sign of the Dothraki by now if they found our trail?”

“Your Khaleesi needs rest…it isn’t good for the child…she has been bleeding again,” the maegi added at last, which was enough to convince the stubborn knight.

”As you wish. We will make camp, then we will rest and eat, but we have to move on come night.”

Thus they made camp near the small water place. Jon, Ser Jorah and Edric erected the tents while her handmaids, the maegi and her three girls helped watering the horses and preparing the food.

It was not much. Dried meat and sweat grass roasted over a fire, but it helped to fill their stomach. For the last two days they have been perched on their horses and thus it was nice to sit down on the ground, even if their only cushions were grass

“How long until my time comes?” she asked the maegi.

The maegi’s dark eyes blinked like two twin stars.”Soon…I fear it will be soon. It would be best to remain here. At least here we will have plenty of water and protection against the heat.”

 “For whatever it is worth…I thank you for helping me.”

The woman gave her a strange look, her dark eyes wandering to the her stone eggs. It was her only wealth safe for the jewels, trinkets and silk dresses she received from Prince Doran on her wedding day. She hoped that it will be enough to salvage some coin to buy them a ship to Pentos if they ever made it to a city.

“You saved my life,” the maegi replied, her eyes still resting on her dragon eggs.

"They are beautiful, aren’t they?”

The maegi gave an empty nod and picked one of the eggs from her hands.

 “I received them as a wedding gift from a magister in Pentos. He told me that they are from Asshai.”

“I saw such eggs in Asshai. They are more precious than jewels or gold," the maegi explained.

"Yet they are dead,” she added sadly.”My forefathers once commanded such creatures and ruled the skies.”

The maegi’s eyes widened in understanding and she put the egg back on the ground before her. Then she grasped for Dany's hand and placed it on one of the stone eggs.

“How do they feel to you?” she asked and it took her a moment to realize what she meant.

“Warm,” she replied honestly, her heart filling with wonder. Does she know more than she lets on?

A ghost of a smile washed over the maegi’s cracked lips.”They are not dead. They are only frozen. To preserve them with spells and magic.”

Dany shivered, but there was hope blooming in her heart.”Does that mean we could free them?”

The maegi nodded her head, but she sounded hesitant.”It would require blood. A sacrifice…and even then it might not work. Every spell is different from the other.”

It felt like a smack to her face. Viserys once told her that Aegon the Unlikley tried to wake dragon from stones and burned down all of Summerhall.

She quickly brushed those thoughts away and focused on the present. Her dreams meant nothing, no matter how grand they were.

Shortly after they all settled down to feast on the horse meat and sweet grass Irri prepared. It was the first time since leaving the khalasar behind them that she saw honest laughter from her handmaids. Doreah was still weak, but the paste the maegi made for her seemed to ease the burns on her face.

This relieved her, but the most heavenly feeling was to finally be able to lay down and sleep on the floor. Pressed between Irri, Doreah and Jhiqui she soon slipped into a fitful sleep.

Dark shadows creatures fluttered through her dreams that night. They had eyes blue as frost and when they appeared the world turned to ice. It made her long for warmth and soon a winged creature appeared to burn them away. The hot flames boiled away her skin, her hair and her bones until there was nothing left of her, but ash.

Trembling and sweating she woke and felt the touch of Doreah's hand on her cheek.

“You were crying out…,” Doreah whispered fearfully.”A bad dream?”

Dany nodded and pulled her blanket over her shoulder. She felt sick and anxious. Something was not right and she crawled out of the tent.

Outside she found a sky of orange and red. The sun stood on the horizon like a big egg, burning and boiling, but soon to be extinguished by the coming night

There was something behind the rolling hills and swaying trees. The wind was whispering and the familiar sound of horse hooves ringed in her ears.

“What is wrong, Khaleesi?” she heard Doreah's voice, but was unable to answer. For a moment she was also unable to move, but then she saw the horses and pulled on Doreah's arm.

“Go and warn the others!,” she shouted, before storming back inside the tent to wake Irri and Jhiqui.

“They found us!” she called out and pulled the girls along, hoping to find a way to escape.

Yet outside they were already waiting for them. It was no khalasar, but at least six riders and the leader had a face she remembered all to well. It was Mago the Dothraki who spoke out against her for claiming the Lhazareen girls.

It was only the blink of a second that was needed for him to bring his arakh down on a surprised Irri. Blood splattered everywhere, the girl falling before her feet like a puppet without strings. Then she heard Jhiqui’s distant shriek and stumbled backwards, finding herself surrounded by three riders, their curved blades raised and blinking in the dying sun.

“Where is the girl?” he asked her, a cruel smile curling on his lips.”Where is the girl you stole from me?”

“She isn’t yours….I claimed her…,” she replied daringly.

“You are a foreign whore who never had the right of it…,” another rider growled, but was unable finish his sentence. A spear sent him flying from his horse. Then an arrow followed, and another, hitting another Dothraki warrior. For a brief moment she only heard the cries of the faltering horses and the ringing of steel. Then someone pulled her up and dragged her backwards, before lifting her up on a horse.

She felt utterly relieved when she recognized Ser Jorah. He quickly settled her down under a tree, before galloping back to the battle playing out before her eyes.

 Jon was there crossing his blade with a Dothraki warrior. They exchanged a barrage of slashes, but Jon was quicker and cut off the man's hand. Shocked the man stared back at the young man and the next cut sent him flying from his horse to join his dead brother still pierced by Jon's spear. Ser Jorah had also joined the fighting by now and dragged another man from his horse. In the distance she also spotted Edric, perched on his horse and littering an approaching rider with arrows. A cry escaped her when the man slashed his whip at the boy and pulled him from his horse. Luckily, Ser Jorah was quick enough to cut the man's throat. At last only Mago remained alive, exchanging heated blows with Jon. Left and right, up and down the blades met. Even in the distance she heard their fast breathing.

They were both bleeding by now. Jon on his arm and Mago from a nasty cut on his foot. Dany wondered how Mago was even able to stand with the puddle of blood forming beneath his foot.

Jon didn't look much better. His cloak was drenched in blood, running like a river from the cut on his shoulder. The wound seemed to weaken him as he was unable to meet Mago's cuts with the same favor. With every blow he was driven backwards and in the end it wasn't Jon's sword that sent Mago sprawling in the dirt. Making use of the man' aggressive blows he stepped aside and kicked his bleeding foot. An ear-piercing cry filled the air and Mago collapsed on the ground. Jon wanted to give him the death blow, when Ser Jorah pulled him aside.

Stumbling over rock and stone she made her way towards them. 

 “Don’t kill him…he can give us valuable information!” she heard Ser Jorah shout and Jon let his blade drop to the ground. Edric also joined them and pressed a piece of cloth on Jon's bleeding shoulder.

“What kind of information could that cunt give us?” Jon hissed, through gritted teeth.

Ser Jorah ignored him and turned Mago around. His unfocused black eyes were staring back at the old knight while his blade was resting on his neck.

“Tell us…why did you come here?” he demanded to know.”Who sent you?”

The other man only spat at him.

“Does it matter…,” she whispered softly. She felt dizzy and searched for Irri and Jhiqui's bloody corpses.

”They are dead….it won’t bring them back.”

Tears were flowing down her cheeks as she knelt down next to Jhiqui.

“Princess…,” Ser Jorah admonished her and was quickly ar her side.”I told you to remain over there.”

“The danger is over,” she insisted and was relieved to find the maegi, Doreah and the other girls alive and well. The maegi’s face was unreadable and impassive as ever, but the other girls were trembling like reeds.

Especially, the shy girl that Mago came to retake for his pleasure.

“You should kill him,” the maegi remarked coldly, her dark eyes fixed on Mago.”He deserves a cruel death for all the pain inflicted upon others.”

“Not yet. Let him bleed a little and I am sure he will speak. I will make sure of it,” Ser Jorah assured her.

”Good. Take him away and make him speak,” she answered through gritted teeth, the pain in her side almost unbearable.

 She tried to change her position, hoping to elevate the pain, but then she felt something wet and warm soiling her dress.

Her water broke.

 ...

Chapter Text

Jon

Jon sat before the tent and listened to the rustling fire. The cut on his shoulder was still hurting, but the cries of the Princess echoing through the camp were worse. Every cry was like a stab in the heart and every time he wanted to storm inside, but Jorah watched him like a hawke and insisted to take care of his wound.

“The cut is deep,” Ser Jorah stated after inspecting the wound. To his feet sat Doreah with a bowl of water placed next to her. Edric sat not far from her and held a needle in the rustling flames, before handing it to Ser Jorah. Then the old knight went to work.

Jon tasted blood in his mouth and tried to blend out the pain as the knight sewed the wound together. The whole procedure seemed to last an eternity and at times the pain was almost unbearable.

“The Princess is hurting more than you,” the old knight told him after he finished his work. Jon agreed with with him, but that was not his only worry. The child might be born healthy or not, but they still had to cross the Red Waste. 

Edric seemed to sense his fear and placed his hand on Jon’s arm.”All will be well. I know it.”

He tried to stay awake afterwards, but the exhaustion of the last days was showing its effect and he drifted off to sleep.

It was morning when he woke again, greeted by velvet sky. He slept long and deep, but the pain in his shoulder only intensified. The wound was pulsing and burning like fire.

“Jon!” Edric’s voice called out to him, bringing him back to the present. Then he felt a pat on his cheek and saw a grim face looking down at him. It was Ser Jorah.

“It is over,” the knight explained, his voice hoarse and distant to Jon’s ears. Jon made an attempt to sit up, but his body felt weak and lethargic.

Sensing his need the knight helped him into a sitting position.

“The Princess is well,” the old knight added and held his waterskin to Jon’s mouth.”It’s a girl.”

Relief washed over him and the taste of fresh water helped to bring back his strength.

“Then we should leave as soon as possible,” Jon managed to reply and tried to stand, but  Ser Jorah had to steady him again.

“Careful!” Ser Jorah admonished him and helped him to sit down.”We will leave once the Princess is able to do so. She needs rest and so do you."

“And Mago?” Jon asked.”Did you make him speak?”

“He did, but not much. It seems that he came on his own accord to take revenge against the Princess. I assume the Khal’s bloodriders are more preoccupied in killing each other than caring about us. I think we will be safe for the next few days, but then we will have to leave.”

”You could be right, but won’t the others try retrieving her?” Jon asked through gritted teeth.

“Aye, they will, but by then we will hopefully be far away from the horde.”

“Then we should Mago him and be done with it,” Jon added.

“I won’t act without the Princess’ approval on the matter,” Jorah explained and turned to Edric.”Go and inform the maegi. I want her to take a look at Jon’s wound.”

“I am fine,” Jon insisted, not wishing to be a burden.

“Nonsense,” Ser Jorah countered and pulled Jon to his feet.”Such a wound can be dangerous. I should have waited for the maegi, but I thought we would be able to leave sooner. Now come along.”

Jon felt too weak to protest and allowed the older man to lead him to the maegi’s tent.

The world around him was swaying as he walked and he was glad when he was able to sit down again. The Lhazareen girls eyed him fearfully and whispered among each other. At first he wondered why they were so afraid of him, but then he recalled that he helped pillaging their town.

Only when the maegi returned did they forget about their fear.

“How may I help?” the maegi asked.

“Mago gave the boy a deep wound. I sewed it and cleaned it, but it still pains him,” Ser Jorah explained for Jon, who had to lean on Edric to remain seated.

“Well, then let me take a look at it,” the maegi told Ser Jorah and went to inspect the wound. She pulled off the cloth and let her rough fingers smooth over the sewed flesh. Her touch made Jon wince and he desperately tried to keep his composure.

“You should have waited for me,” she scolded Ser Jorah.”The wound wasn’t properly cleaned, but it is not too late. We will have to burn out the wound.”

Their words were now nothing more than whispers against the shadows. The world around him was growing blurred and his head was throbbing.

“The boy is weak,” he heard Ser Jorah’s distant mutter.”The pain will weaken him only more and it won’t help against the fever.”

“I can give him something to take away the pain,” he heard the maegi’s answer while Edric helped him to lie down. It helped against the swaying.

How pathetic, he thought. I should have moved more quickly.

Such silly thoughts continued to flutter through his mind until someone eased something down his throat. The darkness that followed was almost welcoming.

 ...

Edric

Edric watched the babe sleep in his arms. In his sixth year his Lady mother birthed his little sister, who died only a year later. Looking at the babe it felt as if his little sister was returned to him.

She had soft hair like this, he was sure and touched the child’s silver locks. His sister had golden hair, more like his, but for him it was similar enough.

“Give her to me!” Doreah told him and stretched out her hands. Unwillingly he placed the child into Doreah’s arms, who came with a bowl of milk to feed the child.

The Princess was still asleep so she was unable to feed the child herself.

She lost much blood, Doreah had told him him when he asked her about it. That is why she needs rest.

Banishing away those thoughts he turned his attention back to Doreah. She dipped a piece of cloth into the bowl of milk and let the child nibble from it. She repeated this over and over again until the child fell asleep in her arms.

“Please give her back to me,” Edric asked of her after she finished her work.

“I have never seen a boy so eager to hold a babe,” she remarked with a smile and placed the child back into his arms. Then she settled down next to him.

“It calms my mind,” he admitted.”I wanted to see Jon, but the meagi sent me on my way. She helped us, but I don’t like her. She is strange and cold.”

Doreah kissed his cheek and ruffled her hand through his hair.

”I can understand her anger. I hated the men who took me away from my mother,” Doreah explained softly.”Last time I saw the maegi she was taking care of Irri’s and Jhiqui’s bodies. She can’t be so bad if she is putting so much effort in helping us.”

He bit his lips and felt ashamed of himself. He completely forgot about the two poor girls. He only saw a glimpse of them, but even the memory made his eyes burn with tears.

“I wish we could have saved them.”

She nodded and squeezed his hand.”Don’t fret about it. All will be well, little lord.”

He could have stayed like this forever, but the Princess’ awakening interrupted their moment.

“Doreah!” she croaked and the girl was quickly at her side, smiling down at her in relief.”My child…”

Edric followed and placed the child in her arms. Naturally, the babe stirred from its sleep and opened its stormy grey eyes. Edric wondered were the color came from, but then neither his father nor his mother had a hint of purple in his eyes like him. It is from your grandfather, his father had told him often enough. Maybe it was the same with the Princess’ babe.

“It’s a girl and it looks like you,” he offered shyly.

“I thank you,” she whispered and smiled between tears.”I thank you.”

“It is alright,” he replied and felt almost embarrassed.”You should thank the maegi and her girls.”

She nodded and looked over to Doreah.”How long have I been sleeping? Did she eat?”

“We fed her horse milk, but real milk will be better. The maegi said so, but she is fed for now,” Doreah explained.

“Then we have to make haste,” the Princess replied."Where are Jon and Jorah?”

“Jon got a fever from the wound he took from Mago. The maegi told us that he needs to rest and Jorah…,” he started to explained, but his words died in his mouth when he saw the Princess’ shocked face.

She carefully handed the babe back to Doreah and tried to get up, but she wasn’t strong enough to walk on her own.

“I think you should lie down again, Princess,” Edric remarked and steadied her, but the Princess ignored his well-meaning words.

“I need to see Jon,” was all she answered, her voice heavy with sadness.”He got hurt because of me.”

“Of course,” Edric answered, unable refuse her wish when he was equally worried. Thus he helped her pull on a cloak and together they made their way to the maegi’s tent.

One of the girls sat before the tent and stormed inside to alarm the maegi of their coming.

Not wishing to wait any longer he helped the Princess inside where they found the maegi at work.

“You shouldn’t walk around,” the maegi admonished her coldly and flashed Edric a piercing look.”And you shouldn’t have brought her here, boy.”

“He got hurt because of me,” the Princess insisted and knelt down next to Jon.

She gently touched his cheek before looking over to the maegi. Her face was a grimace of pain and tears glistened in her eyes.

“Will he be well again?”

Edric was stunned. He was aware that she liked Jon, but he didn’t expect such a reaction.

“Nothing is certain,” the maegi answered.”Time will tell. He will recover if the fever goes down.”

The Princess swallowed hard. Then she brushed the tears away, turned back to Jon brushed his hair out of his face.

It was then that Ser Jorah interrupted them. He looked weary, but his face lightened a little when he saw the Princess awake.

“Khaleesi,” he said and smiled.”It gladdens my heart to see you awake.”

“I am well,” she confirmed, but there was no smile on her lips.”Where is Mago? Is he still alive?”

Surprise showed on Ser Jorah’s face, but he answered nonetheless.

“He yet lives,” Ser Jorah answered.”I didn’t want to kill him without your approval, but you will have to act soon if you intend to execute him for his crimes. I don’t think he will live for long.”

“He will pay for his crimes,” she replied and looked over to the maegi.”You once told me that a sacrifice is needed to lift the spells from my stone eggs. Would Mago be appropriate for this sacrifice?”

Edric was confused, but the maegi smiled.

It was the first time that he saw an honest smile on the woman’s lips.

“A sacrifice done out of hatred can be just as strong as a sacrifice done out of love,” the maegi replied vaguely, „but you cannot be sure that it will work.”

“It will work. I know it,” the Princess insisted and turned around to look at Ser Jorah.”We will need a pyre. A pyre for Irri, Jhiqui and and Mago. Or have you already burnt their bodies?”

”I didn’t. I thought you would want to be present.”

“I thank you,” she said and forced a smile on her lips.”Could you build a pyre for me? It is the last thing I will ask of you.”

“Of course,” the knight confirmed, his voice filled with confusion.”I will do as you wish, but I don’t understand your intentions regarding Mago…How can a sacrifice wake your stone eggs?”

”That is not for you to understand,” she answered firmly and glimpsed over to the smiling maegi.

Then she shifted her attention back to Edric.

“Will you help Ser Jorah?”

Edric didn’t know what to think of the Princess’ plans, but her sad smile was enough to convince him.

“Of course,” he answered and bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Her smiled and leaned down to kiss his cheek.

”I thank you as well, Edric Dayne,” she added softly before looking over to the maegi.”Please leave us now. We need to speak alone. I will join you later.”

“But Khaleesi…!” Ser Jorah protested, but the Princess remained firm.

“Please…do as I ask.”

“Of course.”

Thus he and the old knight set out to build a pyre, but the task proved more complicated than anticipated. The land around them was dead and good wood was hard to come by. They had to contend themselves with gnarled cottonwoods, brush and sheaves of grass. They also felled two trees, hacked the limps and branches off the bark, before arranging them in a square form. At last they filled the center with with the brush, the cut-off branches and he sheaves of grass.

Exhausted from the hours of labor they settled down and drank a cup of milk while they waited for the Princess to join them.

They came at dusk, the sky bleeding and red.

The Princess looked much better. She was washed and wore a clean dress. Her hair was also freshly braided.

In her arms she carried her precious eggs and placed them down on the pyre where they placed Irri and Jhiqui’s corpses.

Then she turned to Ser Jorah.”Get Mago here. Drag him if you must.”

Her voice was hard and cold. It scared him a little, but then it was Mago who killed Irri and Jhiqui.

“This is madness…the eggs will be destroyed…they are too precious to be wasted like this,” the knight protested.

“Fire cannot kill a dragon,” she answered firmly.”Now do as I asked of you. Please.”

He swallowed hard and yanked Edric along. They kept Mago gagged and bound to a tree, but by now he was no danger to anyone. His face was wan like candlewax and the wound on his foot swollen and red. That he was still alive was a marvel.

Yet his weakness didn’t keep him from struggling. He cursed and wiggled as they tied him to the pyre.

“My brothers will find and kill you, foreign whore!” he shouted and spat when he realized what she meant to do with him.”They will honor you until you are unable to walk and then they will drag you back to the Dosh Khaleen to rot there forever. You will wish that that I killed you that day.”

The Princess ignored his harsh words and called for the frightened girl she once claimed in the Lhazareen town.

Eroeh, she was called. She trembled when she looked at Mago, but the Princess squeezed her shoulder and handed her a dagger.

Then the maegi spoke to her in the Lhazareen language. It sounded like instructions, but Edric wasn’t sure.

Understanding showed on the girl’s face and she grabbed the dagger to draw blood from her arm. It was no deep cut, but the blood was running down her arm like a river of crimson only to be captured by the maegi’s hands and to be sprinkled over the eggs and the wood. The other two girls and the maegi followed her exampled while Ser Jorah helped the Princess to light her torch.

“You will not hear me cry, whore!” Mago cursed, but the Princess ignored him again and thrust the burning torch between the logs of wood.

He and Ser Jorah had sprinkled the wood with oils provided by the maegi and thus it didn’t take long until the fire spread over the wooden structure.

Mago remained true to his word. He muttered and cursed, but no cry of fear left the man’s mouth.

Not that the Princess seemed to care. Her eyes were fixed at the maegi.

The woman nodded at the Princess who shrugged off her cloak and stepped towards the pyre.

Panic took hold of him when he realized her intentions. He wanted to follow, to pull her away from the growing flames, but Ser Jorah yanked him backwards.

“She will die!” he cried out.”She will died!”

Yet Ser Jorah grip remained firm.

“She knows what she is doing,” he whispered in his ear.”Fire cannot kill a dragon.”

Edric tried to free himself once more, but the old knight was too strong.

He could only watch the flames devouring the wood, the Dothraki rider and the Princess. The flames grew and grew and at last the pyre collapsed in itself.

For a long time the flames continued to burn and simmer, filling the air with the smell of burned flesh and ash.

Ser Jorah’s grip loosened amidst the growing silence and Edric used the moment to free himself.

His eyes burned from the smoke, but that didn’t matter. He rushed towards the pyre, searching and hoping to find something left amidst the ashes.

The smoke made him cough, but he tried to move forward. On the ground he spotted blackened logs and burnt bones, but then he finally found something stirring among the moving clouds of smoke.

He didn’t recognize her immediately. She was naked, her silver hair gone…yet otherwise untouched by the flames.

Fire cannot kill a dragon, he heard Ser Jorah’s words ringing in his head and tried to make sense of the small creatures draped across her shoulders and lap.

Dragons, he knew and pulled the cloak from his shoulders.

One of the creatures, the black and red-eyed beast, eyed him curiously as he dared to move closer.

“Here…something to cover yourself…,” he offered and stuttered. He was unable to speak further as the creatures started to hiss, filling the air with the song of dragons.

…

Daenerys

The wind howled and she tried to sleep, but her mind didn't allow for such crude things. Her mind was filled with worries about the future.

That she had a child and three dragons to care for didn't make it any easier for her.

Rhaella, she named her, though she still wanted to ask for Jon’s approval. She was his and hers, there was no doubt about it. Her storm grey eyes told her everything she needed to know. Her child was no stallion, but a dragonwolf.

He needs to see her, she thought and lifted the blanket from her shoulders. Rhaella stirred a little, but she continued sleeping as she moved over to Jon. She asked the maegi to settle in her tent until Jon’s awakening and the woman accepted it without questions. Ser Jorah was less pleased, but now was not the time to worry about such things.

I will make him understand, she told herself and leaned down to touch Jon’s cheek. Relief washed over her when she realized that he was no longer burning with fever. His skin felt almost normal to touch.

“Your fever is down,” she told him and smoothed his dark locks.”You need to wake up. Then the maegi will lead us through the red waste. We will be able to visit your home…Dorne. You could show me Starfall and the Water Gardens…and I would be able to meet Prince Oberyn and his many basatrd daughters…What were they called again?”

“Sandsnakes…,” a horse voice answered and her heart nearly stopped when she felt Jon’s hand squeezing her arm.”It is a bit of a silly name, but don’t tell them or they might try to kill me.”

“Fool!” she chided him and buried her head in his neck. Her eyes were glassy, but his smile was honest as ever while his fingers graced over her head.

“What happened to your hair?”

She lifted her head from his shoulder and gave him a sad smile.

”It burned away when my dragons were born,” she told him straight to the point and stroked his cheek.”I sacrificed Mago for his crimes and it lifted the spells from my stone eggs. It sounds like madness, but it is all true. I will show you later, but I can’t keep them near the child.”

His eyes widened in disbelief.

“Do you hate me now?” she added fearfully.”I know what my father was and yet I burned him. I enjoyed it…and he deserved it…I did it for Irri and Jhiqui.”

She received his answer when he pulled her down for a kiss. It was only brief, but it filled her with hope.

“And the child?” he asked, his other hand still resting against her cheek.”Did it live?”

“Yes,” she answered softly and rose to her feet, before making her way over to Rhaella’s makeshift cradle. The basket once held her jewels, but now it was a cradle for her child.

Carefully she lifted the child out the cradle and returned to Jon’s side.

She gently lifted the child out of her the cradle and returned back to Jon’s side.

“You were right,” she told him and smiled.”It is a girl. I named her Rhaella…after my Lady mother.”

“That is a beautiful name,” Jon told her and eyed her closely, all snuggled up against her chest. She was a little small, but the maegi assured that it was normal.

”She has your hair,” he added and decided to make use of the moment to point out the truth.

“And your eyes,” she offered quietly and held her breath. Her heart was hammering wildly as she searched his face.

There was confusion, joy and disbelief, all at once.

“And you are not lying to me?” he asked, his voice his soft and gentle like a summer breeze.

“She is mine?” he asked again.

“She is ours.”

…

Chapter Text

Jon

The bleeding star led their way. He looked like a burning wound and appeared on the day the dragons were born.

It heralds the return of magic, the maegi had told them, but Jon didn’t know what to make of her words. How was magic connected to dragons?”

Whatever the answer to his questions, the maegi refused to answer them. Instead she continued to lead them through the Red Waste insisting that the bleeding star is showing them the right way.

The day was blistering hot and even the water places they found didn’t give them much reprieve. All of them looked tired, worn out and burnt from the heat. It was the reason they rode at night and rested during the day.

 Soon it will be morning and the sun will greet them with the familiar heat. The maegi told them of a city with lush gardens and water not far from here, but so far Jon only saw the barren landscape of a desert awaiting them.

Maybe she lied to us, he thought and glimpsed over to Daenerys. She was riding with Rhaella who was kept in a make-shift sling. The first days she rode with either Doreah or him, but now that her strength returned to her she insisted on riding on her own. Jon himself still felt weary from the fever. The maegi’s care was the only reason he was still alive, but it didn’t change the fact that there was something ominous about her.

Daenerys told him how she helped her to hatch the dragons. Mago was burned as a sacrifice and these small creatures rose from the pyre like a phoenix from the ashes. Dragons have been gone for nearly a century and now they returned to this world. It was still hard for him to believe that a simple blood sacrifice was enough to bring them back when King Aegon the Unlikely failed and burned down all of Summerhall. 

Why did it work now, he wondered and led his horse closer to Daenerys. Her head was wrapped in a blue cloth, hiding her bald head.

Rhaella has more hair than me, Daenerys had joked and touched her soft lips to his when he laid eyes on her soft plume of hair. He wanted to do it again, but then there was Ser Jorah, constantly glowering at them.

He knows that Rhaella is mine, he was sure and let his gaze rest upon the small child in Daenerys’ arms. One of her four children, he corrected himself and eyed the black dragon coiled around her neck. He was the biggest beast of the three and unlike the other two he preferred Daenerys’ presence above everybody else. 

Jon himself was stunned that the small creatures accepted being touched by other people than Daenerys. Especially, the white dragon and the green dragon liked being fed by Edric, Doreah or Jon, though the green one liked Jon the best.

He felt like a little boy every time the green dragon winds itself around his arm. It makes him wish that Prince Oberyn or his mother were here to see it. Prince Oberyn would be beyond himself with amusement and his mother would probably chide him for bringing a fire breathing dragon in her presence. 

Thoughts like this made him long for his home, but that was a far away dream.

“You should drink more,” Daenerys told him in a gentle tone and her hands wandered to the waterskin fastened on her horse. She tugged it free and offered it to Jon, who declined.

“I have my own water,” he insisted and pated on the waterskin fastened on his horse.”Besides, the maegi promised us a city with lush gardens and plenty of water,” he whispered to her. Said maegi was riding not far from them and in company of the Lhazareen girls.

Daenerys gave him a soft smile while rocking Rhaella.”I hope so. My milk is waning.” 

“There is still horse milk,” he assured her and touched her shoulder. His actions made the black dragon stare back at him with his wide ruby eyes.

“Have you found a name yet?” he asked her. He heard her and Doreah talk about it yesterday.

She nodded her head and stroked the dragon’s head.

“Viserys once told me that Aegon’s dragons were named for the gods of Old Vayria,” she explained.”Queen Visenya’s dragon was named Vhagar, Queen Rhaenys’ dragon as named Meraxes and King Aegon himself rode Balerion the Dread. They say Balerion’s wings were so vast that a whole town could be swallowed up by his shadow.”

“I heard so much,” Jon offered, „though the Dornish people like to pride themselves on being able to kill dragons.”

Curiosity shone in her purple eyes.

”Truly?” she asked.”Another thing Viserys failed to tell me. What dragon was it?”

Jon was stunned by her lack of knowledge, but then her brother was probably not the kind of man to think on his families’ defeats.

“The dragon Meraxes was killed by a scorpion bolt in Hellholt. Princess Rhaenys died in this battle. They say King Aegon grieved her loss deeply and after he recovered from his grief he and his sister Visenya set every castle, keep and holdfast in Dorne ablaze except for Sunspear.”

“I am sure my brother Viserys would have liked to do this the Usurper,” she replied quietly, her voice nearly lost to the upcoming breeze. It felt like a warm caress on his cheek.

“Well, your brother is dead, but his dragon of yours does indeed look like Balerion reborn,” Jon replied and jerked his head towards the ruby-eyed beast.

“My dragons will have their own names. I have yet to decide on a name for the black one, but I have names for the other two. The green one shall be named Rhaegal, for my brother Rhaegar and the cream-and-gold one shall be named Viserion. I know what you are thinking. My brother was cruel and weak, but was still my brother who protected me. Without him I would have died. It is my last gift to him.” 

“It is a noble gift,” Jon remarked, though he didn’t think Prince Viserys deserved such a gift.

He saw that she wanted to add something, but then Ser Jorah joined them. Only hours ago he rode ahead look out for the city and enemies. Jon offered to join him several times, but he always took Edric.

“Khaleesi!” he called out to her, his face red from the heat.”A city lies ahead. Like the maegi promised us. A city pale as the moon lovely as a maid.”

Jon felt the relief wash over the Daenerys’ face.

“I thank you,” she told him and urged her Silver forward to speak to the maegi.

“I thank you,” she added and granted the woman a brilliant smile.”Without your help we would have died a long time ago.”

The maegi’s face remained unreadable like always.”I owe you a blood debt. It will be paid once we reach Qarth. There we will leave you.”

Jon saw the disappointment flicker over Daenerys’ her lovely face.”Of course.” 

Jon felt relief when the city finally appeared, its walls and towers shimmering white behind a veil of heat.

“Does this city have a name?” Jon dared to ask the maegi. He normally avoided her presence, but now he felt a hint of shame for doubting her. 

“The city has no name. It is deserted and dead, but there are gardens and water places to be found among the ruins. I once travelled there when I was younger. We should rest here for a few days before we move on.” 

“Do you think there are evil ghost there in this city?” Edric asked, half excited and half afraid.”In the stories I heard such dead cities are always haunted.”

Jon couldn’t help, but to smile over the Edric’s words. 

“The only ghosts we will find there are ruins, boy,” the maegi explained, put her heels into her horse and trotted towards ancient gate of the city.

Riding through the city Jon wondered how long ago this city was deserted. Its white walls were still whole, though cracked and crumbling at points. As they rode deeper into the city where were greeted by a maze of narrow alleys

The buildings were equally abandoned. The facades were blank and windowless as if the color was burned away by the sun. At points Jon also spotted the faded scars of fire. The city was sacked.

It was past dawn when they made camp before the crumbling remnants of a palace. Shortly after Jon, Jorah and Edric set out to explore to find the promised water.

At first they only found more abandoned ruins, but after a while they found the promised water. I don’t give empty promises, the maegi had told them when they returned to the others to report their findings.

 There near a water place Edric found a secret garden. It was a courtyard overgrown with twisting grapes, but also several fig trees.

“We should get a basket to gather the figs. It will be good for us to eat something different than horse meat,” Jon suggested. 

“First we will have to take care of the horses,” Jorah told Edric.”I saw ceramic pots littering the ruins. Tell Doreah to come here with the Lhazareen girls to get the water for the horses.”

”And a basket for the figs,” Edric added, before rushing off to accomplish his task.

Jon knew that it would come to this moment. There has been an unspoken tension between him and Ser Jorah since Rhaella’s birth and now was the moment to resolve it.

That is why he sent Edric away, Jon was sure and welcomed the situation. They had to leave their grudges behind them if they wanted to survive and Jon doubted he would be able to protect the Daenerys’ on his own.

The other man didn’t speak for a long time, but, but it only took the blink of a moment and he found himself pressed against a chalky stone wall.

 “How long?” Jorah asked, hissing the words at him. All the man’s anger came bursting forward.”How long?”

Jon expected anger, but not this violent reaction.

“It was only once,” he told him, but he saw the disbelief visibly on the other man’s face.”I was trying to comfort her. I didn’t know until Rhaella was born.”

“Do you think me a fool?” Ser Jorah asked and tightened his grip on Jon’s shoulder.”I ask you again. How long?”

The man’s tight grip on his wound made Jon wince and his tone woke Jon’s anger.

“I gave you my answer,” he replied curtly and yanked the man’s hand away.”Make with of it what you will.”

His words increased Jorah’s anger.

“You could have killed her!” Ser Jorah shouted and shoved him back against the wall.”You could have killed us all!”

 “It was her who approached me!” he defended himself through gritted teeth and grabbed the other man’s tunic.”At least I am not working for the enemy!”

The last words hit deep and not long after he had the Jorah’ fist colliding with his face, sending him rolling to the ground. Quickly the older man lunged forward, grabbed his shoulders and pressed Jon down on the ground.

“Say that again, boy!” he shouted and grabbed the collar of Jon’s tunic.”Say it again…,” he wanted to continue, but Jon grabbed his shoulder and in the blink of a moment they were rolling on the dusty ground, wrangling with each other like little children.

“What then?” Jon asked at last, pressing the older man to the ground and tasting blood in his mouth.”Are you going to kill me?”

 Ser Jorah laughed. It was a laugh full of bitterness.

“I could have killed you a long time ago,” he remarked angrily and grabbed Jon’s fist hovering in the air.”The only reason I refrained from doing so is because I don’t want to displease the Princess.” 

“And I refrained from telling Daenerys about my suspicions, because you saved her life,” Jon replied and rose back to his feet.

“Then I suppose we are even,” Ser Jorah admitted angrily, dusted off the dirt from his clothes and gave Jon a piercing look.

Jon wanted to add something, but then Edric returned in company of Doreah and the Lhazareen girls. They were carrying pots and Edric a woven basket for the figs.

Without another word spoken they went to work.

…

Daenerys

Daenerys was feeding Rhaella when Jon, Ser Jorah, Doreah and the Lhazareen girls returned with full pots of water and a woven basket filled to the brim with small fruits.

Edric Dayne grinned from one ear to the other when he presented her the fruits.

“They are sweet and fresh,” he told her and handed her a piece.

 “You should eat quickly, Khalessi,” Doreah added with a chuckle.”The little Lord ate nearly a dozen of them.”

 “I did not!” Edric insisted and his cheeks reddened a little.”It only ate two.”

 Daenerys couldn’t help but to smile and took the fig from his hand. The fruit wasn’t bigger than her hand, but she longed to eat it at once. It has been too long since she last ate fruits.

“I thank you for your effort,” she told the boy and jerked her head towards the maegi, who was grouching over a fire, roasting the horse meat.”But first we should eat a proper meal.”

The black dragon sat not far from her and was observing them with his ever curious eyes. Viserion and Rhaegal were more playful and spread their wings wide, trying to take to the sky. Yet they were still too weak and young, but she was sure that they will grow.

Dragons are growing until the day they die, her brother had once told her and given the dragon’s greed for meat it wouldn’t surprise her if she would be able to mount them in a year’s time.

One day, she told herself and put Rhaella back into her crib. She was such a quiet child and always happy to sleep once she was fed. It was a blessing.

Then they ate in silence and not long after the meal they went to rest. 

It felt like heaven to be able to lie down and it didn’t take her long to fall into sleep. Only hours later when the sky was streaked with velvet streaks was woken by Rhaella’s fussing.

Doreah was quick to hand and picked Rhaella from her crib, before handing her to Daenerys. Carefully she bared her breast and watched her child suckle. Her dragons were still asleep and sated from the meat they received earlier. Now they were lying curled in a hole in the corner of the room.

“How long did I sleep?” she inquired from Doreah.

“Long enough. It is nearly dusk, Khaleesi,” Doreah explained and let a brush weave through her brittle golden hair.

“That is good,” Daenerys remarked and rocked Rhaella.”The night will be pleasant and bring back our strength.”

The other girl sighed in agreement.”I wished we could stay here. We have food, water and a pleasant shade. Once we set out from this place only the desert will be awaiting us.”

“The maegi will lead us to Qarth. There we will find shelter and hopefully a ship to bring us back to one of the Free Cities.”

Doreah nodded her head, but Daenerys saw the fearful look in her eyes of summer.

“I heard bad things about this place. They say it is a city full of warlocks,” Doreah replied, but Daenerys wouldn’t care if the entire city was populated by monkeys.

“It can’t be worse than the Red Waste,” Daenerys countered and put Rhaella back into her crib.”Warlocks and Dothraki…we will face them all if necessary.”

 Doreah nodded her head, though Daenerys read doubt in her pretty face.

“We only have the bear knight, Ser Jon and the little Lord to protect us,” she replied quietly.”That is not much against warlocks.”

Daenerys understood, but this was not the right time to give in to fear.

”The both of them faced the Dothraki…and I have dragons,” she insisted and smiled at Doreah.”Have trust and all will be well.”

Doreah swallowed hard and opened her mouth to speak, but Jon interrupted their conversation.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt!” he apologized, but Daenerys cut him off before he was able to continue.

“You are never a bother,” she assured him and granted him a smile. Doreah was already on her feet and left them to themselves.

They know, Daenerys was sure. Doreah was no doubt the first person to find out and Ser Jorah’s glowering looks didn’t leave any doubt about the matter. Only Edric Dayne seemed unaware.

“Have you been resting?” Jon inquired like so often these days, his eyes wandering to Rhaella and then back to her. A soft smile was playing on his lips as he settled down next to her on the floor.

“I am well,” she assured him and returned his smile.”The gods are kind to lead us to this place.”

He nodded and brushed his fingers over her cheek.

She leaned into his touch, wanting him to kiss her, to have her, but then she still felt tender down there. It was normal, the maegi had assured her, but she still worried that her milk might dry up.

 “You still look tired,” Jon told her in a whisper and brushed his lips over her hands. Daenerys grabbed his arm and pulled him into a kiss. It was strange, clumsy and so different from the first time, but it soothed her cracked lips.

When she let go of him he grinned back at her, his dark hair all tousled from the grip of her hands.

It was then that she noticed his bruised lips.

“What happened?” she inquired, letting her hand brush over his lips.

Jon’s eyes grew guarded and distant when he realized what she meant.

“I spoke to Ser Jorah,” he told her in a strangely restrained voice.”He spoke his mind and so did I. It will not happen again.”

She was stunned by his words.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, not hiding her displeasure.”I could have talked to him.”

Jon looked uncomfortable and grasped for her hand.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he explained softly.”And what he told me wasn’t without merit. I should have refused you. It was foolish and dangerous.”

His words hurt her more than she wanted to admit.

“What is done cannot be undone…that is what you told me,” she repeated his words to him.”Dangerous or not…I don’t regret it. Do you regret Rhaella?”

Her words made him freeze and his dark eyes widened in shock.

“Never…!” he told her and pulled her closer, kissing her more forcefully. She tasted the grapes on his lips and his hands roamed over her swollen breasts.

His touch made her gasp for air and she dug her fingers into his back as he pulled her into his lap.

She let go of his shoulder and pulled her dress down. His dark eyes widened, but she pulled him into another kiss, before he was able to voice his protest. His mouth was quick and pleasant, but his hands even more so.

She leaned backwards and started to unlace his breeches, touching him. He gasped into her mouth, his hands digging into her skin as she worked him.

Doreah showed her many things, but in that moment she only longed to take him inside her. She wondered if it would hurt, but Jon’s hand between her legs stilled her thoughts.

She held close to him as a wave of pleasure rolled over hear, threatening to overwhelm her. Then she kissed him again and eased him inside her.

The feeling was strange, but not unpleasant. He moaned as she rolled her hips in old familiarity.

When it was over she felt like waking up from a haze.

 He gave her an apologetic look, but she wanted to hear none of it.

“I will ask the maegi to brow me tea,” she told him and pulled him into another kiss.

…

Ashara

Prince Doran Martell looked older than his years. His hair was streaked with silver and even the orange blanket couldn’t hide his affliction.

“It is a surprise to have you here, Lady Ashara,” Prince Doran greeted her courteously. His brother Prince Oberyn hovered next to him and looked like a younger, healthier vision of his older brother. He was still slender, graceful and a fit man. Even his hair was still black like raven feathers and only a few silver streaks streaked his brow.

“My brother speaks true,” he added and stepped forward to kiss her hand, before flashing her a brilliant smile. It was like a memory from her youth. He has Elia’s smile.”It is wonderful to have you here, though I assume the reason for your visit is less pleasant.”

She gave the man a polite smile and settled down in a chair provided by a servant. They sat out in the shady garden, covered by a bright-colored pavilion. The gardens were lush with flowers, palm trees and butterflies fluttering through the air. Here in Dorne it was still summer, though the Maester of the Citadel announced the beginning of autumn.

“You are well informed, my Prince,” she confirmed.”I am here to speak about the whereabouts of my son. Nearly a year he left on a mission to Essos…a mission you sent him on. I wonder what happened to him?”

If Doran Martell was displeased with her open question it didn’t show on his face. Instead he sipped from his sweetened wine and gave her a hesitant smile.

“My Lady…I understand that you are in grieving over the unfortunate death of the boy’s father, but I can’t tell you about the mission. It is a matter of secrecy.”

Ashara bit back a nasty comment and tried to stay polite. She sometimes wished the Prince of Dorne was more like his younger brother. She understood that his position wasn’t easy, but she always disliked secrecy, especially when it concerned people she cared about. Her brother Arthur was like this and it never fail to anger her.

“Eddard Stark’s death wasn’t some unfortunate accident. He was murdered by the Lannisters. Like your sister Elia and her children, my Prince,” she countered sharply, but she couldn’t help it when she recalled Elia and her murdered babes. Prince Doran might have made peace with the Lannisters, but she never did.

She knew that she said too much, when she saw the dark look crossing over Prince Doran’s features.

“My Lady…I see that you are wearing black. Your grief is getting the better of you,” Prince Doran replied warningly, but she was done with waiting.

“I haven’t seen Eddard Stark in years. He was a good man and he didn’t deserve to loose his head this way. I need to find my son and I won’t leave until you tell me where you sent him and why,” she told him in a determined tone.

“Lady Ashara speaks true,” Prince Oberyn added with a grim smile, his starry eyes glinting with a familiar fire. She knew how much he loved Elia and how angry he was when his brother made peace with King Robert. Now their relation seemed mended, but she still read the old rage in Prince Oberyn Martell’s eyes.”What treason could have Eddard Stark committed to deserve such a death?”

His brother gave a long sigh and dropped his head in defeat.

“He tried to depose King Joffrey…or that is why my spies from King’s Landing are telling me. It seems he believed that Robert Baratheon’s children are bastards born of incest between Queen Cersei and her brother Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer.”

Ashara was stunned by this revelation, but then she recalled the Lannister siblings. They were another memory from the past she tried to forget. She saw them once on the Tourney of Harrenhall. Beautiful and golden-haired they had danced together. Did their smiles betray such feelings, she wondered for a brief moment.

“Eddard Stark is not a man prone to hide from the truth,” Oberyn added.”I met him once after the Greyjoy Rebellion. He apologized to me for Elia’s and her children’s death. I was stunned and when I told him how much I hated him for his part in the Rebellion, he only laughed and told me that he understands. I have never met a more honest man. It has to be true. This means the boy sitting upon the Iron throne is a Lannister bastard…”

“And his brother Stannis is King Robert’s rightful heir,” Prince Doran added.”I heard that he is assembling an army in Dragonstone. His younger brother Renly fled to Highgarden and wed Margaery Tyrell. Some say he wants to crown himself.”

Disgust washed over Prince Oberyn’s face.

”It doesn’t surprise me that the Fat Flower of Highgarden would wed his daughter to the first person offering his daughter a crown,” he remarked sarcastically.”Hasn’t Renly Baratheon been trying to marry Lady Margaery off to King Robert?”

Prince Doran gave his brother a displeased look, but was already too late. Ashara heard it all, though she didn’t really care. The games of the high nobles killed her brother Arthur, but she couldn’t remain silent on the matter.

“You forgot to mention another King, my Prince. Eddard Stark’s son was named King in the North. The North makes a claim for independence,” she added and put her goblet on the table as if to emphasis her point.

Prince Oberyn nodded his head and seemed very unhappy to speak about this topic, but neither she nor Prince Oberyn had any intention to let him off the hook.”The Lady speaks true. You have three Kings, brother. Which one will you choose?”

“None!” Prince Doran replied curtly.”I will not bleed my country for these three Kings. Let them fight it out among themselves.”

“Brother!” Prince Oberyn protested, suppressed anger ringing in his voice.”This is our best chance to avenge Elia. It matters not who we join. The Lannisters are their enemies.”

“And if I choose the wrong King, Dorne will bleed!” Prince Doran countered.

Ashara heard enough.

“I know that you to be a cautious man, but you are making a grave mistake. I don’t know much about war, but my brother Arthur would have never bowed to King Robert. I say only this: Sharpen your spears and seize the moment and people will stop calling you a weak man.”

Prince Doran gave her a sad smile and pulled the blanket from his feet. They were swollen, bruised and red. She swallowed hard and felt a hint of shame for her harsh words, but the anger remained in her heart.

“You are misjudging me, my Lady,” he replied with quiet determination.”I have been preparing for years to avenge my sister. That is why I sent your son to Essos to relay an offer of betrothal to Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys. I wanted to make my Arianne a Queen and offer a safe good marriage to Princess Daenerys. I never meant to bow to the Lannisters.”

She was utterly stunned by his words. Prince Oberyn’s face betrayed nothing, but she was sure that he knew.

“Where are they?” she asked and shivered.

Prince Doran dropped his head as if to offer an apology.

“Viserys Targaryen is dead,” he told her plainly.”He was murdered by Princess Daenerys’ husband, a Khal of the Dothraki. We don’t know what happened to them afterwards. The only one who could know would be Illyrio Mopatis, the magister who harbored the Prince and the Princess for nearly a year.”

This was even a greater shock.”But I thought my son went to relay a betrothal to the Princess?”

“Viserys Targaryen refused,” Prince Oberyn provided quickly.”Instead he married her to a Khal of the Dothraki. It is true what they say. Viserys Targaryen was his father’s son. Mayhaps we should count ourselves lucky that he died.”

“This leaves us with a young girl lost in the Dothraki Sea,” Prince Doran added grimly.

Ashara knew it then. For sixteen years she has lived Eddard Stark’ s lie to protect his nephew. He made her swear to never reveal the truth, but Eddard Stark was dead and her vow no longer valid.

Forgive me, Ned.

“What if there was a fourth King to choose?” she asked in whispering voice.

Prince Doran’s dark eyes widened and Prince Oberyn seemed confused.

“A fourth King?” Prince Oberyn asked.”Who could that be?”

“Yes,” Prince Doran added and took a sip from his wine. His eyes were now fixed on her, burning into her.”Who could it be?”

“Not only a fourth King,” she replied.”Prince Rhaegar’s rightful heir, Prince Aegon Targaryen.”

Prince Doran’s face was unreadable and Prince Oberyn laughed. It was a hollow laugh.

“Prince Aegon died. My sister’s son was murdered. You said it yourself.”

She breathed deeply, before speaking again.”Not Elia’s Aegon, Princess Lyanna’s son, born in a tower in Dorne and hidden away under my protection. You sent him to Essos, my Prince.”

Prince Oberyn looked utterly stunned.”You are surely joking? Jon?”

Ashara nodded her head and Doran Martell poured his brother a goblet of wine.

Then he turned his attention back to her.

“I always assumed that the boy is Brandon Stark’s son and that Eddard Stark only named him his bastard to protect his brother’s reputation, but this makes even more sense,” Prince Doran remarked.”So Rhaegar fathered a son on Lyanna Stark?”

Ashara took a gulp from her wine and nodded her head. Prince Oberyn was still silent, as if he lost his ability to speak.

She tried to read his features, but there were so many different emotions displayed that it was impossible for her.

“Not only that,” she replied carefully.”He made her his second wife.”

“Prince Rhaegar wouldn’t have dared!” Prince Oberyn exclaimed and slammed the goblet on the table.

“But he did,” she replied as calmly as possible. She knew him well enough to know that he will calm himself in time.”Lyanna Stark was never kidnapped. She went freely and they married out of love. I know it, because Eddard Stark told me when he came to return my brother’s blade to me. I kept Prince Rhaegar’s possessions from the tower…among them correspondence. Eddard Stark wanted me to burn it, but I didn’t want to destroy Jon’s past…Jon isn’t even his real name…Lyanna Stark named him Aegon.”

“Elia’s boy was named Aegon,” Oberyn muttered angrily.”How could she?”

Ashara heard the sadness in his voice and couldn’t help but to squeezed his arm.

“I asked Eddard Stark the same questions, but it was not meant to dishonor Elia. When Eddard Stark came to the tower Aegon was already slain. Rhaegar believed his son would be a Promised Prince…he believed Elia’s Aegon to be this Prince, but then he died. Lyanna Stark wanted to make Rhaegar’s dream true,” she tried to explain.

Prince Oberyn laughed bitterly.”Rhaegar’s dreams…I don’t give a fuck about Rhaegar’s dreams!”

She tightened his grip on Prince Oberyn’s arm.

”I know how much Elia meant to you, my Prince. Elia was like a sister to me, but Jon is not responsible for his parent’s actions. My brother died protecting him and so I continued his work after his death,” she explained and let her gaze wander to Prince Doran.”You want your daughter to be a Queen and your brother wants revenge against the Lannisters. There is your chance.”

Prince Doran leaned forward in his chair.”What do you suggest, my Lady?”

She pursed her lips.”Let me seek out this Magister and allow me to bring my son home.”

Chapter Text

Edric

Even from far Edric heard the sound of gongs. They were produced by men lining the high walls of Qarth. Others blew horns or some sort of odd trumpet.

And when they neared the city gate a column of horses and camels came to greet them. The riders were impressive to look upon. They wore scaled copper armor and helms decorated with black plume. Their saddles were equally exquisite, all inlaid with rubies and other jewels.

Edric attended several tourneys and there he saw knights with splendid armor, but none of them ever possessed such rich clothing like these men before him.

Yet another question lingered in his mind. How did they know that we are coming?

It was the maegi who led the here, but they found neither sentries nor men who could have spotted their coming. It was also quite strange to him that they were greeted with so much splendor and pomp.

Jon seemed to share his feelings. He looked very tense, his jaw tight like a bowstring as he rode close to the Princess.

Ser Jorah seemed equally mistrustful, his and hand twitching as he touched the pommel of his sword.

Doreah appeared not only tense, but also very afraid. He saw how her hands were trembling as she held the reins’ of her horse.

“All will be well,” Edric assured her in a whispery tone.”I will protect you.”

Doreah gave him a tight smile and brushed her golden braid over her shoulder. In her arms was Rhaella, sleeping unbothered by all of this.

“Your arrows are quick, but this city is full of warlocks. Even the dragons don’t like it here…,” she whispered back.

It was true. Rhaegal seemed agitated and wasn’t able to keep still in the basket Jon kept him. Viserion seemed to share his brother’s feelings and was hissing, much to Ser Jorah’s dismay.

They want to their mother, Edric thought and watched the black dragon coiled around the Princess’ shoulders. Soon all three of them will be too big to carry them around like this.

What will we do then?

Edric swallowed and tried to forget his fears. Warlocks or not, he was sure they died just as easily as any other man if one put an arrow through their skulls.

“Be welcome strangers!” a man greeted them sweetly. Just looking at him made Edric’s skin crawl. He was a bare-headed man with pale mottled skin and blue lips.”I am Pyat Pree and we have been awaiting you.”

“I thank you for your hospitality,” the Princess replied politely, her black beast of a dragon stirring to life.”But how did you know about our coming? Are you some sort of a seer?”

The man smiled, his gaze sweeping over the rest of them, before returning to look at the Princess.

“I am no seer, Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen, but I am a knowing man and a warlock. Your coming and that of your dragons was heralded by the red comet,” the man explained, but Edric was unable to grasp how a simple red comet was able to tell them these things.

"I told you that the red comet heralds the return of magic,” the maegi whispered, her dark eyes flickering to the warlock.”Dragons are not only fire made flesh. They are also magic made flesh.”

The Princess’ eyes widened in realization and the warlock chuckled.”Your companion speaks true. We saw and watched the signs. That is how we knew. You are most welcome here in this city and in the House of the Undying if you are in need of shelter.”

Edric saw the mistrust glinting in Jon’s eyes as he addressed the warlock.”The House of the Undying?

The warlock smiled again, his dark eyes piercing like a sharp blade.

“It is a place of truth and knowing. Come with us and you shall drink of truth and wisdom,” the warlock replied, but Edric wouldn’t even follow this strange man if he offered him silken sheets and sweets for the rest of his life.

“Don’t listen to the dusty warlock oh most beautiful woman!” another man spoke and interrupted their conversation. He was an elegant man with a bald head and a great break of a nose crusted with rubies, opals and flakes of jade.”I am Xaro Xhoan Daxos, a rich merchant hailing from this city. I can offer you sweet water and silks to sleep.”

“Water would be appreciated,” Jon added and flashed the man a dark look.

The Princess nodded her head, but she looked also hesitant. Edric didn’t trust either of them, but they were in dire need of food and water.

“The only castle I desire is the Red Keep in King’s Landing that once belonged to my family,” the Princess explained plainly.”If you want to give me gifts, give me ships and swords to win back my home. I have friends in Dorne and they are prepared to aide me. Help me and one day I will repay you for your efforts.”

“Princess Daenerys speaks true. Prince Doran Martell will be thankful to you if you are prepared to aid us,” Jon added. Edric noticed the change between Jon and the Princess a while ago. He spent much time in her company and at times Doreah tried to pull him aside, to give them privacy. Edric never had a girl, but he was one and three. He knew what people did under the sheets and wondered why Jon was hiding it from him.

I will ask him when the time is right.

“It shall be as you command, sweet Princess,” the merchant replied with a never-fading smile.”Come with me and you shall reside like a Queen.”

“And if you come with us you shall gain wisdom,” the warlock added.

The warlock’s words made the merchant laugh.”We have a saying here in Qarth: A warlock’s house is built on bones and lies.”

“And we have a different saying in my home: Merchants lie just as much,” the maegi added, her voice tinged with hostility towards the man.

“Once the warlocks were mighty indeed,” the merchant replied, “but now they are wasting their time reading their crumbling scrolls and drinking their shade-of-the evening until their lips turn blue .They are nothing more than hollow husks. Pyat Pree’s gifts would only turn to dust in your hands, sweet Princess.”

“The comet heralds the return of magic,” the maegi insisted.

The merchant remained unimpressed.”Magic has never filled a man’s belly has it?”

Edric was scared by the maegi and her boiling black eyes glowering at the merchant. The Princess seemed to sense the hostility and finally voiced her decision.

“I think we are done talking. We are all tired and weary from our travel and I am gladly taking your offer,” the Princess told the merchant, before turning to the warlock.”I also thank you for your kind offer, but wisdom can wait until we are fed and rested. I might come to seek you out later.”

Edric saw no hint of dissatisfaction on the warlock’s face. He only bowed his head and smiled.”You and your wondrous beasts are always welcome.”

Then he rode off, leaving them in company of the merchant.

“As you can see…I have a child,” the Princess explained to him.”My milk is waning. A nursemaid would please me. I have jewels and silk dresses to trade if you are in need of repayment.”

A sheen of satisfaction showed on the man’s face.

“Your jewels are yours,” he replied and clapped his hands together.”And my home is yours as well.”

The Princess smiled tightly.”I thank you again. Your hospitality shall not be forgotten.”

And providing them with hospitality the merchant did. Edric resided in the Water Gardens, in Sunspear and in Starfall, but merchant Xaro’s palace made these places appear like a simple lodging. If Edric ever saw a palace it was this place and the more rooms he saw the more he feared being swallowed up by the immensity.

Edric was lodged with Jon and Ser Jorah, not far from the Princess and Doreah. The merchant was true to his words and granted the Princess her own wing, her own gardens and plenty of servants to tend to her every need. Even a nursemaid was called, a girl with copper skin and dark eyes.

The Princess thanked the merchant again for his efforts when they sat down to feast on roasted goose and strange fruits Edric was unable to name. It was the best food in nearly a year and so he gulped down more than he should have.

“For the mother of Dragons there is no gift to great!” the merchant answered, sipping from his wine.

It was hard for Edric to say if the Princess was happy, but he deduced from Jon and Ser Jorah’s grim looks that they were still wary of the man. The maegi seemed equally unhappy in the merchant’s presence and even declared that she will leave them in the following days now that her blood debt is paid.

Edric himself was not sure, but he was glad when he was finally able to lie down and sleep. It felt like an eternity ago that he felt the soft touch of a feather bed.

It didn’t surprise him that he fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow. Only hours later, when the first rays of orange fell through the high glass windows was he woken by the rustling of the carpet.

He sat up and spotted Jon, undressing and pulling off his dusty boots. He slept so deeply that he didn’t even hear him leave.

“Where have you been?” Edric asked curiously. Edric was sure that he went to see the Princess.

“Edric,” Jon called out to him, his voice strained.”You should get back to sleep.”

As Jon came closer his face was illuminated by the pale light streaming through the windows. He looked utterly pale, sad and his eyes were red-rimmed.

Something happened, Edric was sure and felt fear washing over him.

“What is wrong?” he dared to ask, his heart speeding up.”Please tell me!”

Jon rubbed his face and sat down on one of the cushioned seats.”I don’t want to talk about it…not now,” he added, his voice pleading and sad.

Edric was confused. Jon never failed to speak honestly to him.

“Please tell me,” Edric asked of him and pulled on his arm.”I know that I am only a green boy, but you have been behaving strangely since we left the Dothraki behind us. You are spending all your time with the Princess and her babe. We hardly speak and when you are speaking to me you are only giving me half-truths. That is so unlike you, cousin.”

Jon was silent for another moment and brushed his hair out of his face. It was now nearly reaching below his shoulders and always in the way.

“I am sorry,” Jon replied, his voice still strained and weak. He pulled Edric’s arm and urged him to settle down next to him. There was only darkness around them, safe for the sheens of light falling through the windows.”My father is dead…”

His father, Edric repeated to himself and it took him a moment to process the enormity of Jon’s words. Eddard Stark dead?  It couldn’t be, but then it would explain Jon’s sadness.

Jon hardly knew the man, but he always told Edric that he intended to visit Winterfell once they return from Essos.

“But how?” Edric asked, pulling on Jon’s arm.”How did you find out? Why would the people here in Qarth know about the Paramount of the North?”

Jon gave a hollow laugh.”It seems much has changed since we left home. My father was named Hand of the King and executed for treason by King Joffrey.”

This confused Edric only more. Joffrey was the oldest son and a prince.

“King Robert is King!” Edric insisted, but Jon gave him the truth.

“King Robert was apparently killed. King Joffrey is now the King. They say my father betrayed King Robert.”

Edric took a moment to process this new information.

“Betrayed?” he repeated and swallowed hard.”Did they say how he betrayed him? Who told you?

Jon rubbed his temples and gave Edric a sad smile.

“Ser Jorah heard it from the mouth of the sailors. He thought it an appropriate gift to the Princess to hear of her enemies’ demise,” Jon explained, his voice ringing with suppressed anger.

Edric felt utterly helpless. What could he say or do to make it better?

“Damn him!” Edric cursed.”My Aunt Ashara always said that your father was an honorable man. I believe her more than the gossip of sailors.”

“Don’t curse,” Jon chided gently and ruffled through Edric’s golden locks. Then he pulled his hand away and pulled his blanket over his shoulders.

“I am tired. Let me sleep a few hours…,” Jon added and was about to lie down, but then he sat up again and pulled Edric aside.

“You said that I am only giving you half truths. I just didn’t know how to explain it to you…Rhaella…What eye color does she have?”

Edric was confused by the strange question, but answered nonetheless.

“Grey,” he replied.”I also thought it strange.”

Jon nodded his head and gave him an affectionate smile.

“It is not strange at all…What kind of eye color do I have?”

“Grey,” Edric replied quickly, but then it all snapped into place.”Oh.”

Jon gave him a wry smile.”Aye, Rhaella is mine. I know you have many questions and I am prepared to answer them tomorrow. Now let me sleep to wash away the sadness.”

…

Jon

He found Daenerys draped in a fresh robe of pale silk, her head bare and her face lightened up by a lovely smile. Doreah was next to her, smiling in a similar fashion while the nursemaid was feeding Rhaella.

The two girls sat on a balcony looking out to the lush gardens. There he saw a large pool of water, filled with exotic flowers.

They were watching the dragons playing with their food.

“Jon is here!” Doreah exclaimed and patted Daenerys’ shoulder. Daenerys inclined her head and granted him a gentle smile.

“Come here and look,” she told him and called out to one of the dragons in what he assumed was High Valyrian. The black one immediately flapped his wings and made his way towards his mother, trying to set to the air. Like so often he ended up on the ground, but it didn’t hinder the dragon to get through the open window to reach his mother.

She held a piece of red meat out to the dragon and gave another command.”Dracarys!”

Without much coaxing the dragon set the meat aflame. Within seconds the meat turned black and the dragon devoured it greedily.

"How big you are!” she complimented the black-winged dragon. The answer was a hiss and the dragon rubbed his head against her hand.

“And deadly!” Jon added with a hint of amusement.”Was that High Valyrian? What does the word mean?”

She chuckled, her sweet laughter like music to his ears. He would have pulled her into a kiss if Doreah wasn’t here, but then he wasn’t even her husband.

“It means fire,” Daenerys explained and gave Doreah a knowing look. Doreah understood at once and turned to the nursemaid holding Rhaella.

”I think it would be a good idea to take a walk with Rhaella,” Doreah suggested and smiled back at Daenerys.

Daenerys returned her smile.”Fresh air will do her good, but not too long.”

“As you say,” Doreah replied and pulled the confused girl along.

“You don’t have to send them away,” he explained.”I also came to see Rhaella.”

She gave him an apologetic smile and settled down on one of the cushioned seats.

”You can see her later, but I want to speak alone with you for a while.” she explained and patted on the place next to her.”Is that selfish of me?”

Her voice was like music to the ears and Jon couldn’t help but to embrace her. Her lips were soft as always, but this stranger’s house was no place for more.

“So do you think the people in this city will give you ships and an army? Do you trust them?” he asked, hoping to receive an honest answer.

She leaned backwards and gave him a wry smile.”It is worth a try, is it not?”

She has a point, Jon thought and couldn’t help but to smile.

“I suppose,” he asked lacing his fingers with hers.”We should still inquire about a ship leaving for the Free Cities.”

“I have already sent out Ser Jorah to speak to the captains and to inquire about news from home,” she informed him and the thought of a ship bringing them away from this place eased the worry in his heart.

“What if they give me ships and an army?” she asked hopefully.”Do you think Prince Doran will support my claim?

Jon nodded his head and touched her cheek.”In Dorne it is not strange for a woman to rule, but the other Lords of the Seven Kingdoms might not see it that way. The Dance of the Dragons was not won by Queen Rhaenyra. I also have not doubt that the high lords will expect you to marry one of them.”

He read anger on her face.”I won’t be Queen Rhaenyra and I won’t bow to the high lord’s whims. My child won’t be a bastard.”

Her words touched him deeply, but it didn’t change the truth.

“I am a bastard. In Dorne it is no frowned upon as much as in the other Kingdoms, but I have no inheritance or name to give to you. They will also expect you to have a son and as a Queen you would be able to legitimize Rhaella.”

“If it is a name you need then I can give it to you. Stark or Dayne…just name it,” she told him, her purple eyes shining brightly.

Jon smiled and let his hand wander through her soft hair. She leaned into his touch, closing her eye for a moment, before opening them again.

“It is not a Stark or a Dayne who has a claim to the Iron Throne…it needs to be a Targaryen,” he explained and she nodded her head.

“Then I will give you my name,” she insisted, her eyes brimming with confidence.”Sand is a boring name.”

Jon couldn’t help but to laugh. He wanted to tell her that the fickle Lords of the Seven Kingdoms won’t see it that way, but Ser Jorah returned from his visit to the port.

"I bring news from home,” Ser Jorah told Daenerys and bowed his head.

“News from home?” Daenerys asked and her face lightened up with curiosity.

“Aye,” Ser Jorah confirmed and settled down.”The sailors told me that the Usurper is dead.”

”Dead?” Daenerys repeated and looked utterly stunned.”Are you sure?”

“I spoke to several people. They all confirm his death,” Ser Jorah insisted, giving Jon a strange look.

"How did he die?” Jon asked.

“They say he was torn apart by a monstrous bear while hunting in the Kingswood. Others say his Queen betrayed him or his brother, or Lord Stark his Hand,” Ser Jorah explained slowly, but the last words cut deeper than a sword.”I am not sure what is true, but they say his Hand is dead…executed by his son and heir. It would make sense…”

“Nonsense!” Jon shouted involuntarily and rose to his feet.”My Father would have never betrayed King Robert!”

Daenerys gave him a worried look and grasped his arm, coaxing him to sit back down.

“Maybe he had is reasons,” Daenerys offered quietly.”You told me once that your father’s relationship with the King grew strained after the murder of Princess Elia and her children. Maybe their relationship worsened.”

“Then why would he make my father his Hand if their relationship was bad?” Jon asked, unable to find a clear thought. His father was dead. A man he hardly knew, but regret was cutting deeper than grief.

“I know Eddard Stark, Khaleesi,” Ser Jorah added.”I hate him, but there is no doubt that he is a man who keeps to the law. It makes no sense for him to betray Robert Baratheon unless he had good reasons. There is more to this…a piece of information we don’t have.”

“The Usurper’s death means nothing,” Daenerys countered and kept holding onto Jon’s arm as if she feared he might run off.”His son rules after him.”

“His son is just a boy,” Ser Jorah explained.”There is not doubt that our task will be difficult, but there is hope for our cause. People fought the Rebellion to put Robert Baratheon on the throne and now he is dead. His son his half a Lannister and could be dim-witted or unable.”

“Hope?” Jon asked, unable to hide his bitterness and sadness.”There will be war. The North will not tolerate the murder of their Lord and who knows what the other high lords will do, but I have no doubt that Tywin Lannister will make sure to secure his grandson’s claim. You know what kind of a man he is…”

Daenerys nodded and tightened her grip on his arm.”I know…I know…but you told me that your Father has a son. Maybe he will be able to remove the Lannisters. Wars can last years. We could gather an army and join them.”

Jon tried to calm himself, but it was too much. He needed time to think freed himself from hr grip.

“We will speak later. I need sometime to think,” he told her and left them.

Only when he was alone did he allow his tears to come.

…

Benjen

Whenever he opened his eyes he saw darkness. His body felt heavy and weary. The pain in his shoulder was even worse. It was like a sharp twisting pain running down his spine that intensified whenever he tried to move.

It was a creature of ice and snow who did this to him. It came upon them in the middle of the night. Suddenly the air grew cold and mist blurred their view. Then a snow storm engulfed them. It was a coldness that Benjen was unable to describe.

His companions died quickly through the creature’s blade of glass, breaking their blades of iron. Benjen still saw the creature’s eyes, blue like frost, piercing him through the darkness.

The memory made him shiver, though he was wrapped in thick fur. It was not the first time that he opened his eyes, watching the moving shadows against the walls. He tried to move, but he was wrapped up in a heap of fur. He felt like a swaddled baby.

It was also not the first time that he woke, but he still had no idea where he was. The familiar smell of wood and blood hung in the air, but he was sure that this place was no dwelling for humans.

Then he saw them again. Small humans, graced with queer eyes. They were large and liquid, gold-green and narrow like the eyes of the cat. Their skin was even stranger, dappled like a doe’s showing beneath their cloaks of leaves.

They often came and went, whispering to each other in a strange language. Three times a day they came to ease a bitter soup down his throat.

He tried to speak to them numerous times, but his voice was weak and brittle, but maybe they were just unable to understand him.

i can stay here forever, he thought and tried to free himself from the fur. Somehow he managed to free his right arm and then his left. He pulled the fur aside, finally able to stretch his feet. He felt weak, but with effort he was able to sit up and stand.

“It seems you are better,” one of the child-like creatures spoke to him. It looked like a girl, but it had the voice of a woman, high and sweet with a strange music in it like none that he had ever heard before.”Your wound is nearly healed, but you are still weak.”

The pain didn’t matter to him in this moment. He felt relieved that someone was finally talking to him. He had so many questions.

“I am well,” he told the girl.”Thanks to your help. Who are you and where am I?”

“The First Men named us children. The giants called us who dak nag gran, the squirrel people, because we are small and quick and fond of trees, but we are no squirrels, no children. Our name in the True Tongue means ‘those who sing the song of earth’,” the girl explained and moved closer towards him.”This place is the cave of the Three-Eyed-Crow. He tasked us to save you and to nurse you back to health, Benjen Stark. You shouldn’t thank me, but him.”

Benjen was rendered speechless. Suddenly he felt like the little boy listening to Old Nan’s stories about the Children of the Forest. They shouldn’t exist, but here they were before his very eyes. What disturbed him even more was that the child knew his name.

“How do you know my name?” he dared to ask, attempting to make another step forward. He nearly stumbled over one of the whirling roots.

“The Three-Eyed Crow told us,” the girl explained.”He knows many thinks. He also wants to speak to you, Benjen Stark.”

Benjen swallowed hard, trying to forget his fear. He should have died like his brothers, but here he was saved by this mysterious Three-Eyed-Crow.

“I would be pleased to see him,” he explained as politely as possible and dropped his head in reverence. The girl cocked her head and gave him a queer look as if she was unable to understand the reason for his gesture.

“Then come along, Benjen Stark,” the girl told him.

Benjen nodded his head and gave the girl a tight smile.

“Lead the way.”

Slowly and stumbling like a fool he followed after the girl. The walls of the cave were made of earth and he saw tree roots, worms and sankes jumping at him through the shadows. The roots of the tree were thick and wide, twisting through stone and the dark soil. Some were as thick as a man.

A weirwood tree, Benjen thought and followed the light of the girl’s torch along another narrow path. Then he heard a crunching sound beneath his feet and stopped. The girl stopped as well, turning around and waving the torch at him in an impatient gesture. The light allowed Benjen to get a glimpse on the bones littering the floor beneath his feet. There were big ones and small ones, but he also found skulls of animals placed in stone-carved niches of the room. There he saw the skull of a bear, a wolf and at least half a dozen skulls belonging to humans. The crows watching him as he passed only increased his feeling of discomfort.

At least they don’t speak, he thought and recalled the Lord Commander’s cumbersome bird.

The next part proved even worse. It was steep and it took all his concentration to follow after the girl without falling down into the dark chasm that lay beneath him. There deep down in the darkness he heard the soft rushing of water.

An underground river, he thought and was relieved when they arrived at the other side. He was barely able to breathe, his heart hammering away in his chest.

“I bring you, Benjen Stark!” the child announced.

The sight before him made Benjen shudder. A pale lord in ebon finery sat dreaming in a tangled nest of roots. His body was skeletal and his clothes so rotted that it gave him the appearance of a living corpse. His skin was as pale as the fresh summer snow, but there was an ugly bloody stain that covered his neck and cheek.

“Ah…you are awake,” the pale lord said, his voice thin and dry. His lips moved slowly as if he didn’t quite know how to use his mouth.”I have been waiting for you to wake from your slumber. It is time.”

Benjen shuddered again, unable to comprehend that a creature like him was able to exist.

“Time for what?” he asked.

“Time for you to return to the Wall,” came the answer, but Benjen had far too many questions to leave it at that.

“Who are you and why did you save me? And more importantly….How do you know my name?”

“I have been many things and I have watched many a man’s life,” the pale lord explained softly.”That is how I know you, Benjen Stark. Once you were a boy who dreamed of knighthood and glory, but then you threw it all away to take the black. You say that you did it out of duty, but I know what lies in your heart. You did it out of regret, for aiding a sister and enabling her untimely death,” he added, every word piercing deeper under his skin.

Benjen gritted his teeth. It is not possible! Nobody knows about this!

“Aye, I was a stupid boy,” he admitted.”But you didn’t answer my other questions.”

The pale lord chuckled or Benjen believed it was a chuckle. It sounded like a soft humming tune.

“In my time they called me Bloodraven, for the bloody mark on my face. I was brother of a King, a kinslayer, a wizard and later I became Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.”

It sounded fantastical, but then everybody knew that Brynden Rivers was lost beyond the Wall. Could it be that he has been sitting here all these years?

“Why did you save me?” he repeated his most pressing question.

“I told you. You need to return to the Wall. The Others are on the march and the Wildlings are trying to flee south to escape them. Someone has to warn the Night’s Watch of the coming danger. That is why I saved you. I know that you will do your duty to protect the Realms of Men.”

The old Benjen would have laughed, but he still recalled the burning cold and the piercing eyes of blue frost.

“And how should I do that? Why are these creatures coming for us? How can I fight them?”

“You will find a way,” the pale lord assured him.”The Others fear the sunlight, fire and dragonglass. They cannot cross the Wall, but one day they will and then you will have to be prepared.”

Benjen’s felt confused by this information.

“Dragonglass…,” he muttered.”What is that?”

“Obsidian. My children will provide you with their self-made blades. They will aid you in the future,” the pale lord explained.

“I thank you,” he replied.”But you haven’t answered my question. Why are these creatures coming for us? What do they want?”

“That is not meant for your ears,” the pale lord replied cryptically.”You have your own task, Benjen Stark. Now prepare yourself. One of my servants will lead you back to the Wall. Coldhands is his name.”

Benjen felt both despair and frustration. How was he supposed to fight against creatures he was unable to understand?

“Why is it not meant for my ears?” he asked again, but silence was the only answer he received.

“You heard the Three-Eyed-Crow. You will have to leave soon,” the girl explained softly and waved her torch at him.

…

Chapter Text

Daenerys

When she returned to the palace Jon and Ser Jorah awaited her in company of the merchant Xaro. She set out early in the morning to speak to the Pureborn. They were the descendants of the ancient Kings and Queens of Qarth, who commanded the Civic guard and the fleet of galleys that rule the straits between the seas. She did everything the merchant told her to do. She made the traditional sacrifice in the Temple of the Memory, offered the traditional bribe to the Keeper of the Long list, sent the traditional persimmon to the Opener of the Door, and finally received the traditional blue silk slippers summoning her to the Hall of a Thousand thrones. It took her several weeks to accomplish it, but now it was all for naught.

The Pureborn heard her pleas from the great wooden seats of their ancestors, yet they showed no interest in her. They appeared to her as tight-lipped men that came out of curiosity or maybe boredom. Now she was back at the beginning.

She only had Jon’s promise that Prince Doran will support her, but she didn’t want to come to him as a beggar. I won’t be like my brother.

“You seem displeased oh precious Princess!” the flattering merchant remarked as they settled down in his large sunny solar. It was a wide room, with high arched roofs and marbled white floors. The wooden table before them was wide and decked with all kind of delicious food. Half of it was unknown to her, but she was not hungry. The taste of disappointment was still lingering in her mouth.”What did the Pureborn tell you?”

“They told me no, but with great courtesy,” she explained and let her gaze flicker to Jon. A servant girl was pouring wine into his goblet made of jade.

He has been more distant to her since the news about his father’s death, but that didn’t surprise her. Jon was not the kind of person to show his emotions openly. He was the kind of man to swallow it up and endure it silently until it was dealt with or forgotten.

Dany herself didn’t know how to broach the topic. She had hated Eddard Stark through all her childhood until Jon revealed to her the true nature of her Lord Father’s madness, but even so Eddard Stark remained nothing more than a stranger.

I will speak to him later, she told herself and turned her attention back to Xaro.

The man sighed and sipped from his wine.

”Did you flatter them like I told you?”

She nodded her head and gritted her teeth.”I did and felt like a pet-monkey.”

“Did you at least weep?” he inquired and put his goblet down, grasping for a fresh peach.

“The blood of the dragon does not weep,” she replied curtly.”And I doubt it would have worked. Most of them were half asleep.”

The merchant smiled in amusement.”You ought to have wept. The people here in this city weep often and easily. It is considered a mark of a civilized man to shed a few salty tears.”

“And the man we bought?” the merchant continued to ask. At times Dany wondered if all of this was a joke to him or a way to divert his time. Or maybe it was his way to forced her into a wedding. He made the offer numerous times, but she always refused.”What did they say?”

“Mathos said nothing. Wendello praised the way I spoke. The Exquisite refused me with the rest, but wept afterwards.”

It was a farce, but the wasted gold was truly something worth weeping about, though most of the gold came from the sold gifts and tokens she received from the people coming to admire her dragons.

The only gift she kept was a crown given to her by the Tourmaline Brotherhood, one of the three merchant guilds of the city. It was a crown wrought in the shape of a three-headed dragon with coils of yellow gold, silver wings and the three dragon heads carved from jade, ivory and onyx.

Now I have a crown but I am still a beggar.

“Weep, weep for the treachery of men oh sweet Princess!” the Xaro remarked in an almost sing-song voice.

It made her boil on the inside and she had to hold back a biting remark. In that moment she couldn’t help but to think of her brother Viserys. Her brother had endured such mockery for years. No wondered he ended up mad.

It might happen to me if I am not careful, she thought but there was something Viserys didn’t have. Dragons.

She brushed those thoughts away and picked up her goblet. The wine tasted delicious and loosened her tongue.

“Suppose I sent Ser Jorah to demand the return of my gifts?” she asked in a half serious and half jesting tone.

The merchant laughed, showing his brilliant teeth.

“It is said that it is easier to milk the Stone Crow of Faros than to wring gold from the Pureborn,” the Xaro jested and even granted Ser Jorah and Jon a smile. He usually ignored their presence.

Ser Jorah remained grim and Jon looked equally guarded.

“The wine of yours is Arbor gold, isn’t it?” Jon asked politely.

“It seems your sword has a good taste for wine,” Xaro complimented her as if Jon was her pet dog.”It is not often that we receive a casket of wine as fine as this. I opened it in your honor oh precious Princess.”

“My sword hails from Dorne,” she explained.”They say the Arbor gold from the Reach is the finest wine in the world. If you help me win back the Iron Throne I will gift you with the finest vintages you have ever tasted.”

“I told you. I have no warships. War is bad for trade. I am a man of peace,” he replied, giving her another one of his excuses.

“Nobody asks you to take up a sword. Give us ships, men to sail them and gold to buy sellswords. You say that you are a man of trade. Dornish wine is not as good as wine from the Arbor, but it is close enough. Prince Doran will be pleased to trade with you,” Jon added in cool politeness.

The merchant cocked his head to regard Jon.

“I have few trading ships. One may be sinking even now in some distant corner of the stormy sea. Another may fall in the hand of corsairs. Such are the perils of trade. The fewer ships I have the poorer I grow. The way to Dorne is wide and perilous. There is no gain for me in such an endeavor.”

Dany heard enough and sighed in frustration.

“The Pureborn may be a lost cause, but there are others. If the Thirteen gave me ten ships…,” she began, but was cut off by Xaro.

“Then you would have hundred thirty ships with no crew. Your cause means nothing to the people of Qarth.

“I will pay them to care,” she insisted more forcefully.” I still have gold salvaged from the tokens and gifts I received from the men who came to see my dragons.”

“I fear that will not be enough.”

“If the Thirteen are such a lost cause, perhaps we should go to ask the Guild of Spicers or the Tourmaline Brotherhood?”

Xaro laughed.

”They will give you nothing but flatteries and lies. The Spicers are dissemblers and braggarts and the Brotherhood is full of pirates.”

Empty words, she thought with growing bitterness. It only leaves Pyat Pree.

Just thinking of the warlock made her shudder. His blue lips and his mottled skin gave him the appearance of a wandering corpse, but she also recalled the words of the maegi given to her shortly before her departure scarce a week ago.

The merchant will give you words of honey, but the warlocks will give you the truth.

The truth, she mused not knowing what to make of the maegi’s words. But it is hard to deny that I would have died without her help. She also helped me to hatch my dragons. Maybe it is not gold I need, but the truth.

With these conflicting thoughts whirling through her head she returned to her chambers. She found Doreah rocking  Rhaella in her arms and humming a soft song Dany didn’t know.

“Was the meeting fruitful, Khaleesi?” Doreah asked and made her way over to Dany to hand her Rhaella. Three moons ago she bore Rhaella in a simple tent in the Red Waste. Back then she was small, but now she was growing into a plump baby with thick silver locks. The silver changed to a more golden color, but her grey eyes remained stormy grey as ever.

“The Purborne were courteous, but we will have no ships,” Dany explained and settled down on the cushioned seats. Rhaella’s eyes were wide, her small hands outstretched and trying to reach for the ornate silver band around her neck.

“There are more options,” she assured Doreah,”but I don’t want to think about it now,” she added and turned around to peek through the wide open windows, searching for her other three children. The dragons made the gardens their refuge and she found them ever asleep.

“Where they fed?” she asked.

Doreah gave a confirming nod.”They ate even more than yesterday and they are growing bigger everyday.”

Like Rhaella, she thought with pride. Once they are grown I will have no need of ships to bring me home to Westeros.

And one of them will belong to you, she was sure and looked down at the babbling child in her arms.

“They are,” she confirmed to Doreah and sighed, trying to brush these formless dreams away.”But we have to focus on the present. Ser Jorah and Jon will come later to speak about the future. I am all dusty and dirty. I think I will have a bath before seeing the dragons. Perhaps tonight I will be able to feed Rhaella myself. My milk is returning. It seems at least one positive thing came from our stay here.”

Doreah chuckled.”As you say, Khaleesi.”

The bath was pleasant and helped to forget her worries. Then she went to visit the dragons, before returning back inside to feed Rhaella.

She was putting Rhaella to bed when Jon and Ser Jorah came to see her. It was already dusk, the sky alight with pink and yellow streaks. Even now she believed the see a hint of the burning comet lightening the sky.

“Please come in,” she said and urged them to sit down at the round wooden table.”I have wine for you.”

Then Doreah brought the goblets and Daenerys poured the wine. It was the task of a servant, but she only had Doreah and the other servants didn’t understand her. She would have to ask the flattering merchant for help, something she had no intention to do.

“It is no surprise to me that the Pureborn refused you,” Ser Jorah remarked and sipped from his goblet of wine.

Jon’s expression was softer and he gave her an encouraging smile, though his words remained sworn to the truth.”I fear Ser Jorah is right. I don’t think you will get ships from these people.”

“I know,” she admitted.”Xaro told me he might rethink it if I agree to marry him,” she added with displeasure, her eyes fixed at Jon.

Ser Jorah coughed and frowned.”It is no surprise and I know his reasons.”

She leaned on the table and laughed.

”I know why. He says he dreams of me, day and night. Empty flatter I say. I saw how longingly he looks at the pretty boys in his household. He is not a man interested in girls.”

Ser Jorah nearly choked on his wine, but it earned her a ghost of a smile from Jon. It was a rare sight these days and she savored it.

“It matters not. He may dream of boys, but I think he also dreams of your dragons.”

Daenerys gave him a curious glance.”How so? Please explain?”

“The people here have a curious wedding custom. One the day of their union, a wife may ask a token of love from her husband. Whatsoever she desires of his worldly good, he must grant. He may ask the same of her. One thing only may be asked, but whatever is named the bride must give.”

Realization dawned on her.

“My dragons,” she replied and Ser Jorah gave her a knowing look.

“Well, you are not going to marry him,” Jon added matter-of-factly.”We should leave. When will the next ship leave to the Free Cities?”

”Two moons,” Ser Jorah supplied and nodded in agreement.

“But where will we go?” Daenerys asked.

“I am no friend of Magister Illyrio, but he was generous to you. Maybe he will offer his help now that you have dragons,” Jon suggested.

Ser Jorah grumbled.”I have no doubt that Illyrio Mopatis would sell you as quickly as he would sell a slave.”

Daenerys wouldn’t call the magister a friend, but he never mistreated her. Besides, a man like him must have hoped for something if he supported her brother.

“I was a guest in his house for more than a year. If he meant to sell us he could have done it easily.”

“He did sell you,” Ser Jorah argued.”To Khal Drogo.”

“My brother did,” she corrected him, though it was a flimsy hope.”He also gifted me the eggs.”

“It matters not. None of his actions paint him as your friend,” Ser Jorah insisted.

“We don’t need his friendship, but his gold,” Jon explained, his dark eyes piercing in the dim candle light.”He is a merchant and I am sure Doran Martell would be prepared to offer him generous trading rights for his support. With his gold we could buy ships and swords. Until then the dragons might be big enough. Aegon the Conqueror took Westeros with a relatively small army, though his dragons were far bigger and monstrous. Yet if it is true what we know from the sailors then we will find a war-torn Westeros awaiting us. Dorne’s spears will be yours and other lords might join your cause if you are able to win them over.”

"Sellswords have their uses," Ser Jorah admitted, "but you will not win your father's throne with sweepings from the Free Cities. Nothing knits a broken realm together so quick as an invading army on its soil.

“That may be, but not all sellswords are savages. Prince Oberyn once served with the Second Sons and they were a formidable troupe during their best times. I don’t know what became of them, but there is still the Golden Company.”

“The Golden Company costs too much and they are Blackfyre supporters,” Ser Jorah countered.

“That may be, but they are also exiles longing for home. A black or a red dragon…I doubt it will matter to them in the end. The Princess has three dragons and there will be plenty of land for them to claim once we return to Westeros,” Jon explained.

“I doubt that will please the Lords of Westeros,” Ser Jorah disagreed, his tone sharper than before.

“By the time we go home half of Westeros might be torn apart from war,” Jon added, even colder.

For Dany they were sounding like squabbling children and her head was throbbing from the wine and the long day lying behind her. She also wanted to speak alone with Jon.

“Ser Jorah,” she said softly and squeezed his hand.”I am thankful for your council, but I am tired. We should talk tomorrow. The ship to the Free Cities will leave in two moons. Plenty of time to make plans.”

“As you say,” Ser Jorah replied and bowed his head.”I will see you tomorrow.”

Dany gave him a sweet smile, but his anger was evident, especially as he turned to Jon.

“He is angry,” she remarked and turned back to Jon.”I should speak to him, but I don’t know how. I have need of his service and I am thankful for his loyalty.”

“I know,” Jon replied in a gentler voice, his features softening.” You don’t need to fret about it. I am no simpering maid. I can endure the glowering looks of Ser Jorah.”

“I am sure you can,” she confirmed and pulled him along to Rhaella’s room.

“You have to be quiet,” she added and put her finger to her lips.

Jon’s smiled and leaned down to touched Rhaella’s silver locks.

"I want to get her away from this place,” he whispered and pulled Dany out of the room towards the gardens. The dragons were sleeping, curled around each other.

“Me too,” she told him and settled down next to him in the grass. A pale silver moon stood on the horizon and a sea of stars glittered above them.”But I told you. I can’t go home as a beggar.”

He smoothed her hair and nodded his head.”I know.”

“Do you really think the Golden Company will follow me?” she asked full of hope.

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders.”I am not sure, but I know that nobody here in this city will help us.”

“There are still the warlocks of the House of the Undying,” she told him.”The maegi told me that they will give me the truth.”

Jon gave her a strange look.”I don’t trust them.”

“I don’t trust them either,” she told him, „but I also don’t trust Xaro or the Pureborn. You said yourself that we don’t need friendship, but gold.”

Jon gave her an amused smile.”You are twisting my words.”

She grinned from one ear to the other and pulled him into a kiss. His kiss was sweet and it helped to forget her disappointments. She crawled into his lap and deepened the kiss.

She sighed in disappointment when he pulled away from her.”Not here.”

“Why not? she asked and slapped him gently on the arm.”The water is pleasant.”

“Xaro asked you to marry him. I don’t want him to throw us out,” Jon remarked and he earned himself another slap for his silly answer.”Xaro wants my dragons. I doubt he would ever want to touch me. He has his pleasure boys for that. I also have no intention to marry him.”

Jon chuckled and then gasped, when he felt her hand slip into his pants.

Soon they were tearing off their clothes and naked as their namedays. She giggled as she pulled him along into the waist-high water. It was cooler than she expected, but that didn’t matter to her.

I am a dragon, she thought and kissed Jon with favor as she straddled him.

The feel of him was familiar and more pleasant than the last time when she was still wound from the birth. She rolled her hips quickly as ever, but Jon stilled her and rolled her over into the grass. He took her slowly, almost gentle.

He nibbled her neck and squeezed her swollen breasts until he stilled, head buried in her neck. She let her hands roam through his thick black curls as he leaned down to kiss her again.

”I have an idea,” he whispered to her and started to plant wet kisses to her breasts, her navel and pulled her legs apart.

Then he started to kiss her down there. A gasp escaped her and it soon turned into a stifled moan. She wanted to call out his name, but she only managed another gasp. She gripped his hair, felt her hips move against his touch and lost herself to the pleasant warmth.

She felt like waking from a haze. Jon lay next to her, smoothing through her short hair.

“What was that?” she asked in amusement.

“I don’t think it has a name,” he replied, flushing a little.”But girls in Dorne like it.”

She felt a hint of jealousy flashing inside her, but it was to be expected. He was a man grown and no maid.

“You said girls,” she teased.”How many?”

Even in the darkness she saw the slight redness on his cheeks.”Two…the first one was a girl from Sunspear. It was in a brothel…Prince Oberyn decided he can’t allow me to die like a maid. I was four and ten and then there was Tyene. She is one of Prince Oberyn’s daughters.”

She heard the hint of sadness in his voice.”Did you love her?”

He laughed.

”I was an infatuated boy and she was a woman grown. I think she thought me a nice distraction.”

“About your father,” she added hesitatingly and kissed his cheek. It was a silly moment to bring it up, but for her it felt right.”For whatever it is worth… I am sorry for his death.”

“He was a good man. My mother always said so,” Jon confirmed sadly and she nodded her head.

”I am sure he was…and I will make the Lannister boy pay for his deed.”

Jon didn’t answer, but she couldn’t help but to continue.”Tomorrow I will go to the House of the Undying. Will you accompany me?”

She saw the disagreement, but his kiss told her what she wanted to hear.

...

Ashara

The manse of the magister was a massive palace with high brick walls and iron spikes. Inside she found lavish marbled walls and tiled floors. It spoke of a man with too much coin in his pockets, but made him only more suspicious to her.

The servant who came to greet them was a pale-haired man with a perfumed beard. His gown was a robe of silk and the golden rings on his fingers spoke of a rich servant.

“I am a humble servant of Magister Illyrio Mopatis,” the man introduced himself in a tittering voice.”I welcome you here in this humble abode and I am here to inform you that the Magister awaits you in his gardens, my Lady.”

“I thank you,” she told him and was relieved that they were finally allowed to speak to the magister. They arrived nearly a week ago, but whenever they came here they were sent away, though she stated clearly that they were an envoy from Dorne. She even brought gifts and her guard consisting of men given to her by Prince Doran and two of Prince Oberyn’s daughters.

At first she refused, but Prince Oberyn insisted and so here she was in company of two sharp-tongued vipers.

“About time, eunuch!” Obara snapped at the man.”We have been coming here everyday, asking to see the Magister like beggars.”

She was a big-boned woman, long-legged and had brown rat-like hair. There was something angry about her, though Ashara knew her to be soft and kind to her younger sisters. Ashara understood her frustration, but this was the magister’s house and strutting around with a spear was not the way to win the man’s favor.

"We are here in the name of Doran Martell, the Prince of Dorne,” Nymeria Sand added, her black eyes sharp and piercing as her sleek braid of black hair. Unlike her sister she was quite the beauty, with lustrous lips and high cheekbones. She also preferred daggers, but the guards of the magister were quick to find them, which woke her ire.

The man bowed his head in deep apology.

”Forgive…forgive. I am just a servant, but the magister was sick. He ate bad mushrooms. He would have been an unpleasant sight to such delicate ladies.”

Ashara had to hold back a chuckle when she saw Obara’s flabbergasted face. She doubted anybody ever called her a delicate lady.

“It is alright,” Ashara added softly.”I will speak with the Magister. My two companions here are tired and would care for a bath. My guards are also in need of rest. Will the magister take care of it?”

The man smiled and rubbed his hands.”Of course, my Lady.”

Her words earned her frowning looks from both Obara and Nymeria, but she had no need of sharp-tongued comments. She needed to coax the truth out of the man, without giving away too much. She didn’t trust him.

The magister awaited her in his gardens. He sat under a yellow pavilion, sipping wine.

The magister was very fat and appeared to her more like a pig than a human being.

“Welcome, Lady Ashara Dayne,” he said and stroked his oiled forked yellow beard. His smile was strange and sweet at the same time, though his teeth were ugly, all crooked and yellow.”Even here in Essos we have heard of your renowned beauty. What brings you here?”

“I thank you for receiving me,” she replied with a polite smile and sat down in a cushioned chair. She sank so deep that she feared being swallowed up by it.”I am here on behalf of Doran Martell. I come to inquire about the whereabouts of Princess Daenerys and I also want to find my son and nephew, who are both sworn swords to the Princess.”

The magister kept brushing his beard.”Ah, I remember your son and that squire of his. Prince Viserys wanted them killed, but the Princess asked them to become their swords. Now Prince Viserys is dead, crowned by the Princess’ husband, a Khal of the Dothraki. The Khal is dead as well and the Princess had to flee. She is now in Qarth or so we heard only recently.”

Ashara nodded her head, nibbling on a grape from the bowl of fruits offered to her by a servant boy. Qarth was far away. How will I get there, she wondered.

“It seems my words saddened you, my Lady. I admit…Qarth is far away, but not impossible to reach. I have a ship that could bring you there if you care.”

She was even more stunned by this sudden offer. She was no fool and knew that such help was never selfless.

She feigned a sweet smile and put another grape into her mouth. This one tasted bitter, but fresh.

“Forgive my mistrust, Magister,” she replied softly.”But I am sure there is a price to be paid, isn’t it?”

The man laughed heartily and drowned his goblet. Rivers of crimson rolled down his lips and dripped on his silken robe.

“Forgive me, my Lady,” he apologized and washed his hands in a bowl provided by a servant boy.”Nobody has ever shown me his mistrust so openly, but you are right. There is a price, but I think you will be pleased with the conditions.”

She wrinkled her brows and grasped for her goblet.”I am all ears.”

“Wonderful!” he cooed and clapped his hands together.”You see…I have another guest. He also wants to find the Princess. You could call him a travelling companion if you care.”

This roused her curiosity.”Who is it?”

The magister grinned, showing his crooked teeth in all their ugliness.”Oh, I am sure he will be pleased to meet you, my Lady.”

 She nodded her head.”Then bring him here. I would like to meet this travelling companion of mine.”

The magister giggled like a child and called one of his servant boy’s to his side. The boy nodded his head and ran off. Then moments later, he returned in company of a man.

He was an old man of a tall and graceful built. His hair was white like snow and his face lined from years of duty. Yet it were his eyes of summer that belied the truth.

“Ser Barristan Selmy!” it escaped her and she covered her mouth.”Forgive me, good Sir. It is just a surprise…I didn’t….”

“To see an old knight like me here in Essos,” he ended for her, a small smile tugging on his lips. With a few quick paces he was on his knees before her, kissing her hand.

“It has been too long, my Lady,” he said and she saw a glimmer of happiness in those deep blue eyes.”Though it surprises me to find you here in Essos.”

“Oh, it is a pleasure to behold such a reunion!” the Magister added happily and smiled.”The lady has the same goal as you, my valiant knight. She seeks to find the Princess Daenerys and her son and nephew. They are both sworn swords to the Princess.”

The old knight’s eyes widened in surprise.”You son? How so?”

She emptied her wine and took a moment to compose herself, before voicing her answer.

”It is a long story, good Sir,” she replied vaguely and smiled at the magister.”I would be pleased to tell you, but I think it should be done in private. Would it be a bother for you, Magister Illyrio?”

If he was displeased with her wish he didn’t show it.

“Of course!” he replied and asked one of the boys to show them to a smaller solar leading out to another garden.

"Now tell me?” the old knight prodded.”How come your son is with the Princess Daenerys?”

She sighed, knowing very well that Prince Doran counseled her to silence, but whom else could she trust if not a man, good and true like Ser Barristan?”

She pulled him closer, whispering into his ear.

“My son was sent here to relay an offer of betrothal to Princess Daenerys and her brother Prince Viserys. However, the Prince refused and wed the Princess to a Khal of the Dothraki. My son became her sworn sword and accompanied her. According to the magister the Princess is in Qarth where I intend to go.”

“You cannot!” he told her and squeezed her arm.”It is too dangerous.”

She chuckled, thankful for his concern.”I have a dozen swords with me; men serving Prince Doran and men serving my brother Arron. Two of Prince Oberyn’s daughters are also here. You may meet them later. As you can see…I am well-protected.”

“I see,” he confirmed and nodded his head.”But I still think it would be better for you to remain here. I am sure I will be able to find the Princess and your son. I am also sure the magister would offer you his hospitality until his return.”

She granted him a smile and kissed his cheek.

“I am not only a mother trying to bring home her son. I am an envoy sent by Prince Doran himself. I am going to Qarth to find a Princess and a King.”

”A King?” he asked in confusion.”The magister told me Prince Viserys is dead…”

“Not a Prince…a King…Prince Rhaegar’s rightful heir,” she explained in a bare whisper. She was so close to the old man that she felt the warm puffs of air leaving his mouth. This close his wide blue eyes appeared even brighter.

She read confusion, wonder and hope.

“Prince Aegon died…,” he whispered.

She gave him a nod.

”Princess Elia’s son was indeed slain by the Mountain, but the boy I am speaking of was born to the Princess Lyanna. You heard right. Prince Rhaegar’s and Lyanna Stark’s son. In Dorne we know him as Jon Sand, but his parents were wed and his mother gave him the name Aegon Targaryen. My brother died for him and I raised him.”

The man’s face took a chalky color and it made her regret her choice of words.

Was it too much, she wondered, but then she saw the smile on his lips. It was a smile ranging between happiness and sadness. For a brief moment she feared he might cry.

“Does the boy know?” he asked hoarsely.

She gave him a sad nod.”Eddard Stark made me swear to never reveal the truth, but Eddard Stark is dead.”

“Indeed,” he confirmed and patted her hand.”We will find them…I swear it, my Lady.”

…

Chapter Text

Daenerys

The House of the Undying turned out to be nothing more than a grey and ancient ruin of dust and stone. It was a long and low building, without windows and surrounded by a high grove of black-barked trees whose inky blue leaves rustled in the wind, producing a whispering song. The roof didn’t look much better; it was black, broken and the mortar was crumbling.

The merchant Xaro called it a Palace of Dust and it turned out to be quite a fitting name. Well, they promised me the truth and not a palace.

“This place looks just as pleasant as the name suggests,” Jon remarked and kept close to her side, his hand resting on his blade. Syndor, her shadow-winged beast seemed to agree with Jon’s assessment. He started to hiss and smoke was seeping out between his bared teeth.

“It can’t be more frightening than stepping into a burning pyre,” she argued, though her bravery was mostly played.”The maegi also told me that I will find the truth in this place.”

Jon wrinkled his brows.”What kind of truth could that be?”

She had no answer and stroked her dragon’s head, trying to calm him.

“I don’t know,” she told him and gave him an encouraging smile.”Besides, you are coming with me, are you not?”

“Of course…,” Jon wanted to reply, but was cut off by the whispering voice of the warlock Pyat Pree.

“Daenerys Stormborn must enter alone, or not at all,” the man explained, eying her with his dark bottomless eyes. Daenerys was stunned by his sudden appearance and it took effort to keep her composure.”If she turns away now, the doors of wisdom shall be closed forever.”

Jon flashed the man a grim look.”What kind of game are you playing, warlock?”

The warlock smiled.

“None,” he replied in his whispery voice.”I am only giving you the rules of the House of the Undying.”

“Well, I disagree with your rules!” Jon snapped back, but Dany grabbed his arm to hold him back.

 “Jon,” she said in a firm voice.”I am no child and I have my dragon. Wait here until I return. You have trust in me, don’t you?”

Dany saw the disagreement in his eyes, but when she squeezed his shoulder his hand dropped away from the pommel of his blade.

“I have trust in you,” he confirmed, but gave the warlock a piercing look.”Harm her and you will regret it, warlock.”

The warlock gave Jon a thin smile and offered his arm to Dany.

They walked through the shade of the trees. It seemed to last an eternity and the darkness around her made her uncomfortable.

When they arrived at the entrance the warlock let go of her arm and gave her his last advice.

“The front way leads in, but not out. Heed my words, Daenerys Stormborn. The House of the Undying was made for mortal men. If you value your soul, take care and do as I say.”

No way out, she repeated to herself and shuddered.

“I will do as you say,” she confirmed to the warlock.

“When you enter, you will find yourself in a room with four doors: the one you have come through and three others. Take the door to your right. Each time, the door to your right. If you should come upon a stairwell, climb. Never go down and never take any door but the first door to your right.”

Sounds easy enough, she told herself and patted her dragon’s head.

“And how do I leave? Do I have to take the opposite way?”

“By no means,” the warlock whispered and folded his hands in front of him.”Leaving and coming. It is the same. Always up. Always the door to your right. Other doors may open to you as well, but within them you will see things that might disturb you. Visions of loveliness and visions of horror, wonders and terrors. Sights and sounds of days gone by and days to come and days that never were. The Dwellers and servitors may speak to you as you go. Answer and ignore them as you choose, but enter no room until you reach the audience chamber.”

“I understand,” she confirmed, trying to hide her growing apprehension.

“Then when you come to the chamber of the Undying, be patient. Listen well and then keep the words in your heart.”

Dany nodded her head and followed him to the door. It was an oval mouth carved in the likeness of a human face. Awaiting them at the threshold was another person. A dwarf standing not higher than her knee, his face pinched and pointed.

When she approached he lifted his tray and presented her with a crystal glass filled with a thick blue liquid. Shade of the Evening, she guessed.

“Drink up, Daenerys Stormborn!” the warlock urged her.

“Why?” she asked half afraid and half curious.”Do my lips need to be blue as yours to see the truth?”

“It needs to be done so you may hear and see the truths that will be laid before you.”

Dany exhaled and raised the glass to her lips. The first drop tasted like ink and spoiled meat, foul and dead, but when she continued to swallow it seemed to come to stir something inside her. She could feel the tendrils spreading through her chest like a small burning flame, then curling around her heart. Suddenly the liquid tasted like honey, sweet like the fruits offered to her in Xaro’s palace, like Jon’s kiss and the iron taste of blood and other tastes she had known in the past. When she came back to herself the glass was finally empty.

“Now you may enter, Daenerys Stormborn,” the warlock confirmed. She exhaled and put the glass back on the tray, before stepping into the next room.

It was an anteroom with four doors. She brushed her last fears away and went to the right door, like the warlock instructed her. The second room was like a mirror-image of the first and again she walked through the right door.

Finally, she found a different room. It was oval rather than square and walled with wood. Six passages awaited her. Obeying the warlock’s words she chose the right door and arrived in a dim, high-ceilinged hall. There she found torches lightening up the darkness thick around her.

 She picked one and her dragon gave a hiss, uncoiling himself from her shoulders and jumping on the floor. He wasn’t able to fly, but she was soothed by his bravery.

This time it was her dragon leading her along the passage with unlocked rooms. When she passed she couldn’t help but to glimpse inside. 

In one room she found a naked woman, beautiful beyond words. Four dwarf-like men were crawling over her, touching her. All of them wore precious crowns; one was made of gold and crusted with rubies and black diamonds; one made of red gold and wrought with points that looked like flames; one fashioned in the form of golden roses and the last a crown made of strange ugly driftwood.

She didn’t know what to make of the vision, but the warlock promised her visions of loveliness and horrors.

Then her dragon hissed and she knew it was time to move on. Again they walked through the darkness, passing another room where another grizzly sight presented itself to her.

It looked like a feast of corpses. Men lay slaughtered on the ground and in pools of blood. Here and there she saw cut-off limps and severed heads. High above them sat a dead man with the head of a wolf. He wore an iron crown and his dark eyes were fixed at her. Beside him stood a woman, even more terrible to behold. Her flesh had the color of curdled milk, her hair was brittle and her cheeks covered in bleeding scratches.

A wolf, she thought and felt sickness spreading inside her. A wolf King. She knew that the banner of House Stark showed such a wolf and Jon’s half-brother was probably waging a war against the Lannisters.

What could it mean, she wondered. Did it show the King’s death or him feasting on the corpses of his enemies?

Was it a vision of the past or the future?

All those conflicting thoughts whirled through her mind as she stepped into another room, familiar and lovely at once. She recalled the great wooden beams and outside of the high window she saw a lemon tree.

“Little Princess!” a kind and gruff voice called out to her.”Come to me!”

Tears burned in her eyes when she beheld the beloved face of old Ser Darry. She longed to go to him, but her dragon’s shriek kept her grounded in reality. She bit her lips and backed away

He is dead and gone, she told herself and bolted down a long never-ending hall. At one point she stopped counting he doors, some open and others closed.

 Yet the path before her seemed endless. She opened one door and found another. Breathless she stopped and leaned against the wall. When she looked up she found a grand door made of bronze. Suddenly it opened and she stepped inside. 

Surrounded by dragons skulls sat a man perched on a seat of barbed steel. He was old, wild-eyed and his long grey hair was falling around him like a veil. His laugh was terrifying and his voice sounded like rolling thunder.

“Burn them all! He shouted.”Burn them all!”

Burn them all, she heard his cruel voice echoing behind her again. It made her shiver from head to toe. Father, she knew. You truly were a monster:

No more, she told herself and fled from her mad father’s cries.

Another room followed, smaller and narrow. There she found a man, familiar and and strange at once. He was tall, silver-haired and his eyes were of a dark indigo color. He was dressed in black and red, stirring a fire with a poker.

At first she mistook him for Viserys, but then he turned around and she saw his face. Unlike her brother, this young man was graced with a fine-shaped face and there was a mild smile tugging on his lips.

“Aegon,” he told the woman, nursing a babe with silver hair. She was graced with black hair and starry eyes.”What better name for a King?”

Princess Elia, she guessed. And Prince Aegon.

The woman gave her brother a weak smile. She looked pale and fragile like glass.

“Will you make him a song?”

“He has a song,” her brother replied firmly.”He is the prince that was promised and his is the song of ice and fire.”

As he said this he lifted his head and looked in Dany’s direction. For a moment she thought he saw her standing there.

”There must be one more,” he added quietly, his eyes sad and distant.”The dragon has three heads.”

Then he went to the window seat of the tower, picked up his harp and started to play. The song spoke of sadness and longing. It made her want to weep and didn’t want to let go.

She forgot about the present and the past and stepped towards the lovely vision. She tried to touch them, but they faded away like mist.

Suddenly she heard a woman’s cry, sharp and shrill. The sound of it made her shudder and she realized that hidden at the other end of the room was another door.

 Another cry followed, loud and terrifying. Whoever the woman was, she was in great pain.

Trembling she stepped towards the door and looked inside.

 There she found a young girl, lovely and young as her brother’s wife Princess Elia. She was placed in a great wooden bed and a woman was crouching between her legs.

A birth, Dany realized and eyed the young girl with great curiosity.

Her face was long, even-shaped and framed by wild curls of brown hair. Her features were strangely familiar, but it were her storm grey eyes that betrayed her identity.

Lyanna Stark, she guessed and stepped closer, but the vision faded again. 

While fleeing from the growing darkness she tried to sort her thoughts. This was Lyanna Stark birthing a babe and suddenly her brother’s words made sense.

There needs to be one more.

That is why he took her, she was sure, but those thoughts were soon forgotten when she heard a strange noise. Something was there, shuffling and dragging itself over the floor.

She immediately quickened her pace and rushed along the narrow hall before her. It felt like hours until the arrived at the end of the long path, ending in a steep stone steps, descending into bottomless darkness. Fearing the darkness before her she looked back, unsure if she missed a door to her right, yet she found none.

I can’t go back, she thought and heard her dragon’s cry, as if urging her to continue forward.

Could there be a secret door, she wondered and let her gaze sweep over the dark hall. The first door on the right, the warlock had told her and then it came to her.

The first door on the right is the last door on the left!

Without a second thought she flung herself through the door, followed by her dragon. There she found another room with four doors. She chose the right door again and again, but soon she felt like running in circles. At last she stopped to catch her breath and found herself in a stone chamber.

Looking up she found the warlock Pyat Pree smiling down at her.

“Could it be that the Undying are done with you, Daenerys Stormborn?”

“Done?” she asked, with growing frustration.”I have walked for hours and found nothing other than darkness.”

“You have taken a wrong turn,” The warlock told her and stretched out his hand towards her.”Let me help you.”

It could be so easy, but her dragon’s shriek rang like a warning in her ears and there on the other side was another right door.

“Stubborn child,” she heard his whispering voice following after her.”You will get lost and never be found again.”

If I look back I am lost, she told herself and left him behind her, entering a stairwell. She didn’t waste time to climb the stairs. Another eternity passed and soon her feet began to ache. At last she found wide wooden doors, opening to her and beckoning her to step inside. They were made of ebony and weirwood, black and white, day and night.

There beyond the door she found strange figures robed in ermine, ruby velvet and cloth of gold. Others wore elaborate armor embellished with gemstones.

The first one to rise upon her entrance was a man dressed in a long robe of dark silk.

”Be welcome here, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Come and share with us the food of forever. We are the Undying of Qarth.”

“We have longed to meet you,” one of the women said, clad in a glittering dress of silver, her breasts bear in the fashion of Qarth.

“Your coming was known to us,” the man clad in the long robe of silk added.”A thousand years ago we knew and have longed to see this day. We sent you the comet to lead you here.”

The maegi was right, she thought as she stood before these ancient beings. How old they were, she wondered.

“They told me you will give me the truth,” she spoke, her voice echoing back to her through the hall.”They told me I will find wisdom here.”

 The man clad in the long robe carried a smile as bright as a star.”We have knowledge to share with you. You have passed every trial we put before you. You are now one of us. Now come and sit and all your questions shall be answered.”

“I only ask for wisdom…I don’t want to stay here,” she told them and they started to laugh. Her dragon stirred then, hissing at the nebulous figures clad in silk and darkness.

Fear gripped her when her dragon started gnawing and scratching at the closed wooden doors.

It earned her another round of laughter.

“A marvelous beast!” a young man remarked.”One day he will be the Dread reborn. Then you will have need of our wisdom, Daenerys Stormborn. Come here and we shall teach you the speech of the dragonkind.”

Their voices were mere whispers in her ears as she tried to aid Syndor. With gritted teeth she pressed herself against the door, pushing and trying to budge it open. Sweat was running down her cheeks and it took all her strength, but then it finally began to move.

 Yet there was no way of escape, only a door made of splintered grey wood. Even from here she still heard their sweet voices, calling for her to join them. She started to hum, trying to blend them out as she slipped into the next chamber, followed closely by her dragon.

 The sight that presented itself there before her made her freeze. There hovering above a long narrow table she found a human heart, swollen and blue with corruption, yet still alive. Seated around the table were figures of dusty blue shadows. She moved closer, but they remained silent.

The only sound in the room was the steady sound of her pounding heart.

What is this place, she thought with growing fear. Why did the maegi sent me here? Did I not save her?

“Mother of dragons!” a whispering voice pierced the silence and was soon joined by others. She couldn’t see them, but she was sure that they were there, hiding in the dim room.”Dragons! Dragons! Dragons! Mother of Dragons!”

The voices continued echoing around her, making her head pound with pain.

“What do you want?” she wanted to know.”You promised me wisdom, but you gave me nothing!”

“Come and sit…and you shall hear of wisdom,” one of the dusty figures whispered and pointed at the empty seat at the head of the table.”Come and sit.”

Dany exhale deeply and with a beating heart she lowered herself into the wooden chair.

As if through magic the dusty figures took shape. Right from here she able make out the features of an old man, all wrinkled and bald. His eyes were blue and staring at the old withered woman on the other side of the table.

It was then that she noted the eerie silence around her. 

They are not breathing, she realized and shuddered. They are dead…Why then do they call this place the House of the Undying?

“We are not dead!” they answered her question.”We live! We live! We live!”

It was like a myriad of voices echoing around her and growing louder with every passing moment.”We know. We can give you wisdom.”

“Then give it to me!” she shouted back.”What I saw? Were those visions of the past or the future?”

“They are the shapes of shadows…of morrows not yet made,” the answer came in a growing chorus of whispers.”Drink from the cup of ice…Drink from the cup of fire….Mother of dragons…child of three.”

 Three, she wondered and thought of Rhaegar’s words. The dragon has three heads. There needs to be one more.

Those were mere thoughts lingering in the back of her mind, but the chorus of voices echoed it back to her.

“Three heads has the dragon!” the voices continued to whisper and made her head pound.”There has to be one more….mother of dragons…child of storm…mother of dragons…child of three….the dragon has three heads!”

 The words made no sense to her.

”I don’t understand!” she shouted, her voice a faint whisper against the chorus of voices.”Show me or let me go!”

Faint in the distance she also heard the cry of her dragon.

My child, she whispered as the dust before her took shape.

There was Viserys, screaming as his molten crown ran down his cheeks. A young girl with silver hair perched on a massive white and golden-scaled dragon. Her dying brother Rhaegar swallowed up by the River Trident as he cried the name of a woman. A blue-eyed King armed with a red sword and who cast no shadow against the dying sun. Another King perched on the barbed throne of her father, wearing an ugly crown of driftwood. Next to him was his Queen, wearing a golden crown, her sharp green eyes piercing her through the darkness…

Faster and faster the visions came, making her dizzy and confused. She heard her dragon’s roar, beckoning her to return to him, but she was unable to move. They were grabbing for her and caught like a fly in a spider net.

There was a massive man of steel, smashing the head of another man and sprinkling the floor with blood. A city of snow and ice devoured by the dead. A little boy with red-hair falling from a broken tower. An old man woven into a tree, his red eyes watching her through the darkness…

Stop it, she wanted to shout, but her mouth was sealed. They were reaching for her, touching her, pulling at her dress, foot, leg, hair. They wanted her, needed her…

I am lost, she thought and gasped for air. Then a cry of fury cut through the darkness, ripping away the whirling visions. The blackness was gone as well, banished away by her dragon’s bright flames.

It was now with much terror, that she saw them. The Undying were around her, dead and cold, whispering and touching her.

“My child!” she gasped for air, like drowning man caught by the rolling waves.”Dracarys!”

Thus the world disappeared in the heat of flames. She heard their shrieks of pain, their voices high and thin.

Dany used the moment to free herself and quickly moved towards the door.

“Syndor!” she cried out to the beast and she was relieved when he followed after her through the whirling flames. Her hope grew when she saw a passage opening before her. She quickened her pace, moving against uneven stone walls and a floor that felt slippery beneath her feet. Then finally, there was the door and she rushed outside.

The bright sun light made her wince, but her heart rejoiced at her returned freedom.

For a brief moment she felt almost blinded, but then she heard a familiar voice ringing in her ears.

“Daenerys!” the familiar voice called out to her.”Daenerys!”

It was Jon, looking down at her in confusion. Not far from her lay Pyat Pree, mumbling in a strange tongue.

“What happened?” Jon asked, but she was unable to speak.

 The warlock looked at them, his bottomless eyes black as the night. He hissed a curse at her and drew a knife, but was Jon quicker, cutting the man apart.

The black and bluish blood of the wizard was spilled over the dusty ground and at last her dragon set the body aflame.

...

Jon

The merchant was waiting for them when they returned. Daenerys looked still a bit pale around her face, but was otherwise unharmed. Jon had a hard time to understand what happened. He had waited for hours until he saw smoke coming from inside the temple and went to find Daenerys.

Now the warlock was dead and the House of the Undying destroyed. Daenerys hasn’t said much either, but that was understandable. Whatever she saw in there must have been frightening. Daenerys was not someone easily silenced. Even the dragon was still anxious, curling tightly around her neck as she climbed from her Silver.

“It eases my heart to see you well, but the people of Qarth will not be pleased about the destruction of the House of the Undying,” Xaro told her.

”They tried to imprison me and my dragon. I only tried to protect myself,” she explained and gave him the ghost of a smile.”But you do not need to fret. The next ship will be leaving in a few weeks and then we will no longer be a burden on you.”

The merchant smiled and sipped from his goblet of jade.

“I fear that will be too long,” the merchant explained.”The surviving warlocks will not forget about their failure. They will be after you soon and I doubt I will be able to protect you in the future.”

Daenerys wrinkled her brows and picked a fruit from a nearby bowl.”Wasn’t it you who told me that the warlocks were no more than old soldiers, boasting of their forgotten prowess?”

The merchant frowned.

“That was so, but now I am not sure, sweet Princess,” he told her and sighed.”It grieves me to say so, but it might be best for you to leave Qarth as soon as possible. You don’t need to go alone, though. You have seen dark visions in the Palace of Dust, but Xaro imagines brighter dreams for you. Wed me and sail with me around the Jade Sea. I will give you everything your heart desires.”

Her dragons you mean, Jon wanted to add and stifled his growing anger. We will be better off without you.

Daenerys gave him a polite smile.”I am thankful for your hospitality, but I can’t marry you. I have to decline again.”

Xaro smiled, but beneath his mask he saw the unhappiness. He was patient enough and now he will sent us on our way, Jon was sure.

“Well, then I should wish you a good travel,” the merchant said and wave his hand.

Daenerys nodded her head and gave him a sweet smile.”Of course, but for that I will need a ship. Or do you think I can swim back to the Free Cities?”

Xaro’s eyes glittered like diamonds in the dim candlelight.”I am a trader, sweet Princess. For one of your dragons, I am prepared to give you ten of my finest ships.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” Daenerys replied quietly.”How can a mother sell her own children?”

The merchant seemed disappointed.”Mothers sell their children every day,” he argued, but Daenerys remained firm.

“Not the Mother of Dragons.”

“Not even for twenty ships?” the merchant continued to argue and Jon felt like he was on a market, watching two haggling merchants.

“Not even for a hundred…a thousand…all the ships in this city and all the ships sailing the great salt sea would I be able to sell my dragons. Give me only one ship and I shall say one day that the great merchant Xaro gave the Queen of the Seven Kingdom’s her first ship.”

Instead of showing anger the man started to weep. Tears were running down his cheeks as he spoke.”It seems to me that the visions of the warlocks harmed your fragile mind, but your words were sweet and flatter me. Because of this I will allow you to stay a few more days.”

Jon saw the disappointment cross over Daenerys’ face, but he never had any illusions of the man. He never wanted to help us.

“Don’t fret about the man,” he told her.”You still have the gold from the gifts you sold.”

“It has to be enough,” she agreed and gave him the ghost of a smile, before opening the door.

“Khalessi,” Doreah greeted Daenerys with a smile. Rhaella was in her arms, awake and stuffing the hem of Doreah’s dress into her mouth.”It gladdens me to have you back. And you, Jon.”

“Did you truly go to the warlock house?” Edric added, making use of the moment to litter them with his questions.”We heard you killed them? Are they all dead?

“I am not sure, but Pyat Pree is dead for sure,” Jon replied and gave Edric a smile.

“But merchant Xaro told us that they are gathering their strength to haunt me down. He thinks it is best for us to leave soon,” Daenerys added quietly, taking Rhaella from Doreah’s arms.

Ser Jorah looked less pleased, his face contorted into a grim expression. Jon braced himself.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ser Jorah said and sounded like a scolding father.” Your actions stirred up the entire city. With a little gold and luck we might be able to bribe a captain to take us to another city. It is not optimal, but better than to get murdered by warlocks.”

Daenerys gave him an apologetic smile.”You speak kindly, but I see that you are displeased with me, Ser Jorah. I can only ask for your forgiveness.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Ser Jorah replied in a startled tone.”But what happened in the House of the Undying? Xaro’s servants spoke of a fire?

“Syndor burned the warlocks,” Jon replied and settled down next to Daenerys.

Doreah was already on her feet and brought a bowl with fruits. Daenerys grabbed for a fig and ate greedily

Edric grabbed for a peach, nibbling on it like a monkey. His blue eyes were wide and he was listening with rapt attention.

“And the House of the Undying?” Ser Jorah inquired.”How did you destroy it with a little dragon fire?”

“It was magic,” Daenerys offered as an explanation.”The House of the Undying was a place of magic and I saw visions there…visions of the future and the past.”

Ser Jorah remained skeptical.”I don’t want to discount your words, but it could have been nothing more than a clever trick.”

“I know what I saw!” Daenerys insisted.

“What did you see, Princess?” Edric asked then, growing impatient with their fruitless discussion.

Daenerys gave him a thankful smile and took a sip from the honeyed milk offered to her by Doreah.

“I saw so much…It was quite overwhelming. I don’t know where to start.”

“Tell us what comes to your mind,” Jon offered gently.

Daenerys gave him a quiet nod and tried to recount her visions.

“I saw a vision of my brother Rhaegar. He was speaking to a woman…I think it was Princess Elia. She held a babe in her arms and Rhaegar named him Aegon. He also called him the Prince that was promised and told the Princess that the dragon has three heads and that there needs to be one more.”

“The sigil of house Targaryen has three heads,” Edric offered quickly.”But I can’t make sense of the rest of your brother’s words.”

“I know,” Daenerys replied.”I also think I know what he meant. He wasn’t referring to actual dragons, but his children. He already had two children…a girl named Rhaenys and a boy named Aegon…and he needed a third one.”

Ser Jorah’s eyes were wide in in understanding.”That is why he named them Rhaenys and Aegon…all he needed was Visenya.”

“Queen Visenya was the older sister,” Edric argued.”Why did he name his oldest daughter Rhaenys if he wanted to recreate the three siblings?”

He has a point, Jon thought and ruffled through his hair.

“I don’t know if my brother had such intentions or not, but I saw more,” Daenerys added turned her head to look at him.”I saw a woman having a babe and I think she was your Aunt Lyanna. She had similar eyes like you and we know that it was my brother Rhaegar who took her away. This babe…maybe it was the third child my brother wished for.”

Jon gritted his teeth. He always found the story of his Aunt’s capture disturbing. She was a girl of one and four, taken away from her home against her will only to be raped and left to die in a tower in Dorne in company of the Kingsguard. That the Dragon Prince could have fathered a child on her disturbed him even more, but he also saw the flickering hope in Daenerys’ eyes.

I am not the only one, her eyes told him said and he couldn’t help but to force a smile on his lips.

“Maybe the child survived and they brought it away to safety,” he added softly.

Daenerys sighed.”Maybe.”

“Or it just died with the mother,” Ser Jorah added straight to the point as always.”Don’t give yourself up to those fruitless hopes, Princess.”

“What else did you see?” Edric prodded impatiently and ignored Ser Jorah’s warning words.

”I saw a girl with silver hair perched on a massive white and golden-scaled dragon. I think it was Rhaella and the dragon was Viserion,” she explained and touched Rhaella’s head.

Edric gave Rhaella a jealous glance as if to say: What could a baby do with a dragon?

“I also saw a blue-eyed King with a burning red sword…yet the strangest thing for me was not the sword, but the fact that he lacked a shadow,” Daenerys continued to recount her visions.

“A burning sword,” Ser Jorah repeated and wrinkled his brows in confusion.”I knew a man who had such a burning sword. Beric Dondarrion…he used during the Greyjoy Rebellion.”

Jon couldn’t help but to be stunned by this revelation.

“Aye,” Jon confirmed to Daenerys.”I know him too. He is my Aunt Allyria’s betrothed and he showed us his sword trick when he came to visit us in Starfall. He has a burning sword, but his eyes are green and he had a shadow to accompany him.”

“Then it has to be someone else, but there are many men with blue eyes,” Edric added.

“Aye,” Ser Jorah agreed, “but not many of them are Kings. The Baratheon family is known for their blue eyes. The King you saw has to be either Stannis or Renly, though I don’t understand how someone could be robbed off a shadow.”

“I know,” Doreah added fearfully.”My mother once told me that the red priests from Asshai can steal your shadow to perform dark magic.”

Edric paled and Ser Jorah gave her and unbelieving look.

“Tales for children,” Jon heard Ser Jorah mutter and Daenerys used the moment to continue with the recount of her visions.

”Then I saw another King. He was seated on my father’s throne and wore an ugly crown fashioned out of driftwood. Next to him was his green-eyed Queen,” Daenerys explained and gave Ser Jorah a hopeful look.”What do you make of it?”

“A crown of driftwood,” Ser Jorah repeated.”Sounds like a crown for a King of the Iron Islands, but it is out of the question that any Lord in the Seven Kingdom’s would ever tolerate a Greyjoy on the Iron Throne. The Ironborn are reviled throughout the Kingdoms and they lack the strength to accomplish such a feat.”

Jon agreed. The Greyjoy’s were crushed in the last Rebellion. They lacked the strength, but then Daenerys also mentioned a Queen...

“You mentioned a green-eyed Queen,” Jon stated.”King Robert’s Queen is a widow. Maybe she will marry a Greyjoy?”

”Queen Cersei marrying a Greyjoy?” Ser Jorah asked in an unbelieving tone.”It is more likely that Tywin Lannister marries her to a fool in motley than a Greyjoy.”

"I know that,” Jon replied defensively, „but there are no other widowed Queen’s and Daenerys has no green eyes.”

“Whatever it means, it doesn’t bode well for Westeros,” Daenerys added turned back to Jon.”And there were more visions, one stranger than the other: there was a massive man of steel smashing the head of another man…a city of snow and ice devoured by the dead…a red-haired boy falling from a broken tower…an old man with red eyes woven in a tree….I cannot make sense of it.”

“Of course you can’t,” Ser Jorah told her.”I am sure half of these visions were meant to confuse you.”

..

Chapter Text

Edric

The waterfront overseeing the large harbor of Qarth was a massive market place. There he found hundreds of merchants draped in colorful and splendid clothing, haggling over spice and other exotic goods.

Leaving the crowd of the merchants behind them they passed the long stone quays. A calming breeze coming from the sea brought with it the smell of salt and fish, incense and oil. There they found ships unloading goods from all over the world. Edric saw chests of saffron, pepper and silk unloaded from a mighty galley. Further down he saw a large group of people gathering around some sort of wooden stage, where a fat man was presenting women and children to the crowd.

A slaver, Edric knew, though he was unsure where they hailed from. The banners fluttering on the mast of the ship were foreign to him.

After a while they arrived at the end of the harbor. The merchant Xaro told them that only there at the far end of the harbor ships from the Summer Islands, Westeros and the Nine Free Cities were allowed to dock.

Yet even there they received suspicious glances. It was probably good that Ser Jorah and Doreah remained behind to take care of the dragons.

Edric remained behind as Jon and Daenerys went to speak to the owners of the ships, but even after hours they found no captain willing to take them.

Edric brushed the sweat from his brow and narrowed his eyes against the bright sun. Even from the distance he noticed the tension in Jon’s bearing.

“There has to be a ship that is willing to take us home,” he heard the Princess’ words, but Jon remained silent. Instead of answering he pulled the both of them aside.

”I think we are being followed.”

Edric felt fear washing over him and bit his lips. Jon dragged them to the side, towards one of the stalls, pretending to eye the wares of a brass-seller.

Then Jon lifted a brass, all polished like a looking glass. Reflected on its smooth surface Edric was able to see two people. One was clad in a brown cloak and the other one in orange silk.

“Who is it?” Edric asked Jon.

“Both of them,” Jon replied and Edric swallowed hard, trying to banish away his fear.

“My goods are beautiful, aren’t they?” the seller asked and smiled at the Princess.”Only the best for the Mother of Dragons! Thirty honors would suffice!”

Jon gave the man a serious look.”Thirty…Isn’t that a bit too much?”

“Maybe you are wrong,” The Princess whispered to Jon.”Maybe they are just observing us because of our strange appearance.”

The seller seemed oblivious to their situation and continued to haggle.”Thirty? Aye, I am an old fool. The price is twenty.”

“Five and no more,” Jon replied, his eyes still fixed on the reflection in the brass. Edric couldn’t hold himself back and dared to turn around to get a glimpse at the strangers.

One of the strangers was old and armed with a wooden staff. He had long white hair and a silky beard covered the lower half of his wrinkled face. The other person’s face was not visible and covered in a fine cloth of orange silk.

“The old man is only armed with a wooden staff,” Edric told Jon and the Princess, who were still occupied with the brass-seller.

"Four! That is my last offer!” the man shouted, his face red like a lobster. 

“Alright, here…take five,” The Princess said at last, pulled the coins out of her pocket and put them on the table.

“What are they doing now?” Jon asked Edric, who continued watching the strangers.

“The old man is eyeing the goods of a potter, but the one in the orange cloak is watching us,” Edric explained quietly, but the Princess pushed him aside. It seemed she had enough of the waiting.

Edric heard Jon call after her, but it all happened too quickly. Suddenly a man stepped in the Princess’ way and opened a box. Edric heard him mutter an apology and within seconds a strange creature jumped out of the box and unfolded with a hissing sound.

Edric heard the Princess’ cry and then another hiss. Out of nowhere the old man drove the butt of his staff into the ground, smashing the creature into a thousand pieces.

By then Jon was grouching next to the Princess, his blade bare and his eyes fixed on the old man.

Edric was stunned. How did the old man catch the creature this quickly?

The Princess was equally fazed, cradling her hand.

”I apologize. I hope I didn’t break your hand,” the old man said and gave her an apologetic smile.

“I don’t think so,” the Princess replied and gave the man a wry smile.”I thank you.”

“I am also thankful,” Jon added and dropped his head.”I was not quick enough. I didn’t see…,” he wanted to explain, but the old man’s orange-cloaked companion pulled down his hood and revealed a familiar face.

“…see it coming?” Obara Sand asked and gave them an amused smile.

”Obara…What are you doing here?” he asked, a rare smile crossing over his lips.

“Saving you of course,” she replied.

“We also brought a ship,” the older man explained and eyed both the Princess and Jon with great curiosity.

The Princess’ eyes widened in realization.”You are one of Prince Oberyn’s daughters…Jon told me much about you.”

“Indeed,” Obara confirmed with a smile and pointed at Jon.”Though I hope it were only good things.”

“Only good things,” the Princess confirmed and turned her attention back to the white-bearded man.”And who do I owe my life?”

The old man bowed his head.”Ser Barristan Selmy, former Kingsguard to your father.”

Ser Barristan, Edric repeated and was speechless.

“Barristan Selmy is serving King Robert,” Jon stated, his dark eyes narrowing in distrust.”You bent the knee.”

“Aye,” the old man replied and dropped his head in regret.”I did, but now I have come to serve you if you will have me?”

“Calm your tits, Jon!” Obara told him and gave him a knowing smile.”The old man is on our side. Your mother trusts him.”

Jon was stunned.

“My…my mother?” he asked and paled.

“Aye, your mother,” Obara confirmed.”She stayed on the ship and anxious to see you.”

Edric saw the anger washing over Jon’s features.

“My mother…You brought my mother here to Qarth? Are you mad?

Obara nodded her head in confirmation and seemed unaffected by his angered words.”Why not? Does she need your approval?”

Jon frowned.”No…of course not…I am happy that she is here, but it is dangerous enough for us to be here.”

“Maybe we should relocate this reunion to a more suitable place?” the Princess suggested.

“Our ship is not far from here,” Ser Barristan provided quickly.”It is called the Seastar.”

“The Seastar,” the Princess repeated and smiled.”We will be happy to board your ship, but you should know that we have three fire-breathing dragons.”

“We have heard about them,” Obara confirmed with a smile and crossed her arms in front of her.”So it is true.”

“So there are three dragons?” Ser Barristan inquired, his blue eyes wide in surprise.”And who else?”

“Rhaella, another knight and a handmaid,” Jon replied hesitatingly.

“Rhaella?” Ser Barristan inquired, his blue eyes wide as the summer sky.

“My child,” the Princess explained.”I hope it is no bother.”

The old knight smiled wistfully.”Not at all.”

… 

Ashara

Ashara waited in company of Lady Nym, watching the waves and the birds circling on the blue horizon. The travel has been kind and quick, but the rolling of the waves didn’t sit well with her stomach.

“I am sure they will return soon,” Lady Nym replied and leaned against the wooden railing of the ship. She looked like a cat, all languid and satisfied to enjoy the pleasant weather.

Ashara nodded her head and brushed her braid over her shoulder. The air was hot and stifling, but the cool breeze coming from the sea was pleasant enough.

“I have no doubt that Ser Barristan will find them,” Ashara replied.”But I fear my son’s reaction to my presence here. He will not be pleased.”

Lady Nym smiled.”He will forget about it once he hears about Eddard Stark’s death and the truth.”

Ashara sighed.”Aye, he might even come to hate me…I lied to him.”

“Anger is to be expected, but he would be a fool to hate you,” Lady Nym countered.”You lied to protect him. He would have ended up like Princess Rhaenys or Prince Aegon if Robert Baratheon found out about his existence.”

“It is not only that,” Ashara admitted.”I fear his reaction when he hears of Prince Doran’s plans.”

“Jon will want to revenge his father and following Prince Doran’s plans is his best chance to do so,” Lady Nym argued, but Ashara wasn’t sure if Jon will see it the same way. The only reason she revealed the truth was to bring him home.

“Speaking of our hidden Prince…it seems your knight and Obara found them,” Lady Nym added.

And it was true. Even from the distance she was able to spot Obara’s bright orange cloak.

Ashara gave her a relieved smile and touched the younger woman’s arm.”Then we should go and greet them.”

She felt tears burning in her eyes when she saw how much he has grown. He was also taller and his face sharper, but his smile was still the same.

“Jon,” was all she managed to force out of her mouth.

“Mother!” came the gentle answer, before she found herself pulled into a tight embrace.”It is good to see you hale, but I would have preferred for you stay to stay away from this wretched city.”

She couldn’t help but to chuckle and cradled his face between her hands.

“I have been waiting for a whole year,” she gave her reasons.”Did you expect me to wait forever?”

“Of course not, but this is a dangerous place,” Jon replied and looked over to a boy, who was trying to hide from her gaze.

It was Edric. He was much taller, his golden hair reaching past his shoulders. His clothing was even stranger. He wore a painted vest and a bow slung over his shoulders.

“Is that really you, Ned?” she asked gently.”Let me take a look at you.”

Finally, he came forward and she leaned down to place a kiss on his cheeks.”You have grown quite a bit. I am sure your father and mother will be pleased to hear that you are well. They feared the worst.”

Her words coaxed a sad smile from his lips.”I am sorry for worrying you, Aunt. And father and mother.”

“Important is that you are alive and well,” she replied and inclined her head to appraise Jon’s companions.

The Princess Daenerys was hard to overlook, though thus far she has kept to the background and was occupied with the small child in her arms. Ashara could not see much of the child all wrapped in a cloth, but the wisp of silver hair betrayed the Targaryen heritage.

Yet it was not so much the presence of the child that stunned her, but the creature coiled around her neck.

A dragon, she knew, but was unable to believe her eyes.

And there were more, though the other two were smaller and kept in woven baskets and held by a grim man with grey eyes. His face was slightly familiar, but she was unable to place it.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Ashara,” the Princess said, a gentle smile tugging on her lips. Seeing her close it was hard to miss the resemblance to her mother Queen Rhaella. It was like looking at a ghost, though the Princess looked much younger and healthier than the late Queen.

“And it is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Daenerys,” she replied politely and dropped her head in greeting.”You have much of your mother.”

“My brother Viserys loved our Lady mother dearly and told me much about her, but I would be pleased to hear more of her from your mouth, Lady Ashara,” the Princess replied. Then she brushed her hand over her child’s head.”I named my daughter Rhaella to honor the memory of my mother.”

A girl, Ashara thought and couldn’t help but to smile. A Princess.

“I would be pleased to tell you more about Queen Rhaella later,” Ashara replied.”But I have yet to be introduced to the rest of your companions.”

The Princess gave her an apologetic smile and looked over to the grim knight.”This is Sir Jorah Mormont, a loyal friend and Doreah, my handmaid and another loyal friend.”

Jorah Mormont, she repeated to herself and all snapped into place. She saw him once, many years ago on a tourney. He crowned a Lady of House Hightower as Queen of Love and Beauty.

“I am pleased to meet you, good Sir,” she replied and turned to the golden-haired girl named Doreah.”And you, my Lady.”

With the introductions done Ashara led them back to the ship. It was a mighty galley, beautiful and strong.

She has been anticipating the moment for weeks, but now she felt only fear.

“So this ship belongs to Magister Illyrio?” the Princess asked curiously.

“Yes…it was Magister Illyrio who provided us with this ship and told us where to find you,” she confirmed and looked over to Ser Barristan.”Only through Magister Illyrio was I able to meet ser Barristan.”

“Quite a happy coincidence, isn’t it?” Ser Jorah grumbled.

Ashara ignored his words and smiled at the gruff Northman.

“Lucky, I say,” she replied.”Ser Barristan found you and now you have a ship, good Sir.”

“Aye,” the man replied grudgingly.”You are right, my Lady.”

“Yet it was Prince Doran who sent us to find you,” Lady Nym added and looked over to Jon and the Princess.

“And I am grateful for his help,” the Princess replied.”I promise to repay him for his services once I am able to do so.”

“I am sure you will,” Ashara added hesitatingly and her eyes wandered back to Jon. Now, she told herself and took a deep breath.

“But that is not the only reason we came here,” she began, her voice strained.”I came…,” she wanted to continue, but she was unable to bring it over her lips.

Ser Barristan seemed to sense this and decided to help her.

“I don’t know…but did you hear about King Robert’s death, Princess?” Ser Barristan asked her.

“We did,” she confirmed and looked over to Jon. Her expression spoke of sadness and worry.”Maybe you can tell us more about the circumstances?”

Ser Barristan sighed and answered.

“I don’t know everything, but King Robert died in a hunting accident. Then a few days later Eddard Stark tried to depose Prince…no King Joffrey, naming him a bastard born between Cersei Lannister and her brother Ser Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer. When we left the realm was preparing for war. Eddard Stark’s son named himself King in the North and there were rumors that King Robert’s brothers Stannis and Renly are preparing to fight for their claims.”

“And do you think these rumors about the Queen and Ser Jaime are true?” Jon asked Ser Barristan.

Ser Barristan’s face darkened.

“I am not sure, but the Kingslayer committed treason before. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did it again,” Ser Barristan replied honestly, not hiding his anger for the golden-haired knight.”I spoke to Eddard Stark only a handful of times, but he gave me the impression of an honest man not interested in power. What he did was done out of duty and his confession of treason was done under pressure. I know that they threatened to take his daughter’s head.”

“They have one of my sisters?” Jon asked, his dark eyes glinting with with anger.”What was she doing at court?”

“Sansa Stark was the betrothed of King Joffrey, though I doubt it will remain that way. Her father is a known traitor,” Ashara explained quietly. Jon never met Eddard Stark’s children, but she knew how much he wished to meet them.”I guess they will use her to keep Robb Stark in line.”

Jon grew quite and bit his lips.

“We will safe her,” the Princess declared and gave Jon a determined look.”It will take time, but King Joffrey will pay for his deeds.”

“Aye,” Obara agreed and pursed her lips.”The little cub will shit gold when he gets a look at your dragons.”

Ashara granted her a trembling smile and gathered her courage.

”Well, that is one way to put it, but the dragons are still young and won’t be enough. You will need other allies. As I said before…Prince Doran sent me to find you…Princess Daenerys…and you…Jon.”

Jon wrinkled his brows in confusion.

”That is very kind of him, but…,” he began, but Ashara cut him off.

“He sent me to find you…to bring home a King,” she forced the truth over her lips.

Neither Jon nor the Princess seemed to know what to make of her words.

“My brother is dead,” the Princess offered quickly and Ashara forced herself to explain.”I know…I am not speaking about Prince Viserys. I am speaking about Aegon Targaryen, Prince Rhaegar’s heir.”

“I cannot make sense of your words, mother,” Jon remarked in an irritated tone.”Prince Aegon was killed by the Mountain.”

“He was,” Ser Barristan confirmed and looked very distraught.”But your mother is not speaking of the little babe Aegon, but another Aegon …born to Lady Lyanna in a tower in Dorne.”

Jon grew utterly silent and the Princess’ purple eyes widened in understanding. Then her eyes darted to Jon and Ser Jorah.

“The vision…I saw…that was Prince Aegon,” she muttered to herself and turned back to Ashara. Her eyes glittered with tears.”It was Jon…all along…You protected him, didn’t you?”

“I did,” she confirmed quietly and looked over to Jon. He looked utterly pale, his eyes full of disbelief.

“Nonsense!” Jon exclaimed and shook his head.”Eddard Stark was my father and you are my mother!”

“I am not your mother,” she told him and remained firm, no matter how hard it was.”I raised you and I loved you, but Lady Lyanna Stark was your mother. She died birthing you and Eddard Stark was desperate to protect you. He originally wanted to take you North and name you his bastard, but he was freshly married. My brother died protecting you…his King. I offered Eddard Stark to name you my son to honour my brother’s sacrifice and he grudgingly accepted. Shortly before the ending of the war I had a miscarriage. A little girl…thus nobody questioned your existence.”

Jon didn’t speak for a long time. The reaction of the other’s was much the same. The grim Ser Jorah eyed Jon with wide eyes, Edric gaped at Jon and the handmaid looked utterly confused.

Only the babe in the Princess’ arms seemed unbothered by their talk.

“Good,” Jon said at last, his voice ringing with anger.”Suppose I believe you…It doesn’t change anything…I am still a bastard…Princess Elia was Prince Rhaegar’s lawful wife.”

Ashara nodded her head, accepting his anger without reservation.

“Aye, she was,” Ashara granted him.”But Rhaegar wed Lyanna Stark. She was his second wife, but his wife nonetheless.”

“The Faith of the Seven will not accept it!” Jon insisted, but it was the Princess who squeezed his shoulder and spoke.

“My mother was my father’s sister…another thing the Faith of the Seven frowns upon, but they accepted it nonetheless. Besides, Princess Elia is dead and so are her other children. It is not like you have competition…other than me, the Mad King’s daughter.”

Ashara heard the sadness in her words, but she admired her for accepting the truth.

“Even Prince Doran is prepared to accept it,” she told Jon.”He wants to offer you Princess Arianne’s hand in marriage.”

Jon’s face changed to a grimace of anger.

”And then?” he asked, his voice dripping with bitterness.”What will happen then? Will I have to wear a crown and pretend to be Prince Doran’s puppet King? Isn’t this all a bit too convenient? Would he have even wasted a second thought on me if Prince Viserys was alive and well?”

Ashara bit her lips, accepting the truth. All of it was true, thought it depended on Jon what he will make of the truth. She didn’t call after him when he left the room.

Edric wanted to rush after him, but the Princess held him back.”No, let him go. He needs to calm down.”

Then she turned back to Ashara and gave her a weary smile.

“I thank you for giving me the truth,” the Princess said and brushed her hand over Rhaella’s cheek.”But I doubt that Jon will like the idea of marrying Princess Arianne…you see…Rhaella is Jon’s child.”

Ashara was speechless, her eyes darting back to the child. The Princess lifted the child and now she was able to see the unmistakable grey eyes.

I was a blind fool, she thought and wanted to laugh.

“Do not fret, my Lady,” Daenerys assured her in a soft voice.”I should have told you, but Jon thought it better to wait.”

Ashara nodded her head, her eyes still fixed on the child.

“That is quite a surprise,” Obara remarked in an amused tone.

“You are not married, are you?” Lady Nym inquired from the Princess.

“Not yet,” The Princess told her in a determined voice.”My daughter will not remain a bastard.”

“Of course not,” Ashara replied weakly, her head throbbing from all these revelations.”Of course not.”

…

Chapter Text

Daenerys

Daenerys found Jon in company of Rhaegal. The dragon sat on the floor next to him, his wings half open and watching the starry sky. Jon was stroking Rhaegal’s neck, the way he liked it. She wondered about the dragon’s affectionate behavior towards Jon, but back then she thought that the dragon was sensing Jon’s relation to Rhaella.

Now she knew.

He is my blood, she knew, though it still felt unreal to her. He is my brother’s son. My brother’s heir. Aegon Targaryen.

“There you are,” she said softly, her voice half drowned out by the sound of the howling wind.

“Here I am,” Jon answered quietly while Rhaegal was rubbing his head against the palm of his hand.”Jon Sand…or should I call myself Aegon Targaryen?” he asked, his voiced tinged with suppressed anger.

It is to be expected, Dany thought and forced a smile over her lips. His whole life was a lie.

“You can call yourself whatever you want,” she told him encouragingly and kneeled down next to him. In the distant she heard the rolling waves bringing with it the smell of salt and sea. It spoke of freedom and change.

We could just sail far away and never return, she thought and felt temped to forget about her father’s crown, but then she heard Rhaegal’s familiar song and knew that there was no turning back from this.

There has to be a reason the return of the dragons, she knew and shifted her attention back to Jon.

Jon smiled sadly.

“I don’t even know what I want or what I should do,” he admitted honestly.”I have grown up as a bastard and then I was a knight and now I am a Prince or King? It is absurd, but then I always sensed that there was something that my mother was hiding from me. She never spoke much about my father and always avoided the past. I thought it was too painful for her to speak about the past, but now I know that she lied to me.”

His anger was understandable, but she couldn’t help but to feel grateful to Lady Ashara.

“She is still my mother. She loves you and wanted to protect…,” she tried to explain, but he cut her off.

“She still lied to me. I am a man grown…she should have told me a long time ago,” he argued and Dany sighed. She didn’t know why Lady Ashara didn’t tell him sooner, but she knew comforting it is to live a lie. Her brother had been doing it all his life, believing that their father was a kind ruler and beloved by everyone.

“I don’t know her reasons, but if you want to know… go and speak to her,” she offered in return and fell silent. She came here to comfort him, but she didn’t know what to say. She felt like she gained something while Jon was mourning his old life.

Sometimes familiar things are better than the truth, she knew and couldn’t help but think of her brother again.

She sighed and grasped for her hand.”I will speak to her…I promise, but I can’t do it now.”

She squeezed his hand and let her other hand smooth over Rhaegal’s rough skin. His skin was hot, his golden eyes looking up to Jon as if he was trying to figure out what was going on behind his guarded features.

“You should also speak to Ser Barristan…he knew my brother Rhaegar,” she added, but Jon’s grim face didn’t show much enthusiasm.

“I always thought of your brother as a rapist and a murderer,” he replied, brushing his disheveled hair out of his face.”And now he is my father…a man who left his family to run off with my mother. All these people died for me. All of this blood was shed for me.”

She tightened her grip on his hand and moved closer.”All these people died, because my father murdered your Uncle and Grandfather. What my brother did was foolish, but that doesn’t make him a monster. You are not responsible for his actions nor am I responsible for my father’s madness.”

A ghost of a smile softened his features.

“No, you are not,” he agreed and pulled his hand away. Rhaegal was now crawling up his arm, his wings spread as if he intended to flay away.

The dragon’s antics coaxed another smile from his lips.”Do you think it is because of my blood?”

She nodded her head.”I am sure. Rhaegal is meant for you and Syndor is mine. Viserion is meant for Rhaella. I saw it in the House of the Undying. The dragon has three heads.”

Jon gave her a quiet nod and looked ahead. The sea spreading before them was like a dark pool of nothingness and the stars made the surface glitter like diamonds spilled on an inky cloak.

“You saw my mother, didn’t you?” he asked and she believed to hear curiosity in his voice.”What did she look like?”

Dany tried to recall her face, but her memories were hazy and blurred.

“Beautiful, dark-haired and she had your eyes,” she replied and Jon nodded his head. Then he sighed and touched Rhaegal’s head. The dragon inclined his head downwards and curled his tail around Jon’s arm.

“Like Rhaella,” Jon added wistfully and sad.”I hope she will have a kinder fate.”

“Of course she will!” Dany replied forcefully.”We will make sure of it.”

“Aye,” Jon added and brushed his hair out of his face, but a gust of wind made his efforts for naught.”But for that we will have to retake the Iron throne or we will never be safe, especially now that you have dragons. . I also want aide Lord Eddard Stark’s children. I owe him a blood debt.”

“You told my brother that Arianne Martell is very beautiful,” she probed and was surprised how much his face darkened after hearing her words.

“I will no marry Arianne Martell;” he told her matter-of-factly.”I owe Doran Martell a lot, but Rhaella will not be a bastard. As you told me in Qarth…we will need an army.”

“Army or not, we will need Doran Martell’s support,” she countered, gently stirring the flame of anger simmering in his dark eyes.

“We have Rhaella,” he returned.”Doran Martell has a younger son named Trystane. He is a good and brave boy…Rhaella could do worse as a husband.”

Dany didn’t like the idea of selling Rhaella off when she was barely out of her swaddling, but that was the way of things and she trusted Jon when he told her that the boy was good and kind.

At least it is no Dothraki warrior, but a Prince.

“Prince Trystane can call himself lucky,” she agreed, „but I assume Prince Doran hopes to make one of his children a King or a Queen.”

“Prince Doran will be satisfied with his lot,” Jon assured her.”You have dragons and we will give Princess Elia justice by removing the Lannisters from power. That will please the Dornish.”

She couldn’t help but to smile. Outwardly he looked still guarded, but she also saw determination.

This relieved her greatly.

I am not alone anymore, she thought and her heart swelled with warmth.

“Regarding an army…Ser Jorah made a suggestion. He thinks we should go to Astapor…to get the so called Unsullied,” Daenerys recounted Ser Jorah’s words to her.”He says that there is no army more disciplined than these warriors.”

Jon wrinkled his brows.”I have heard about them. They are slave soldiers who are trained to obedience and war from young age. They are also eunuchs, robbed of their free will and humanity. Slavery is reviled under the Faith of the Seven, but I have no doubt about their abilities.”

”I know, but it is worth a try…better than to beg for Doran Martell’s spears. You know the price,” she countered.”You also mentioned the Golden Company.”

His features softened, but she also saw doubt.

“Aye, but we will need gold and I don’t know where to find them.”

“Then we should go to Pentos,” she told him, despite her distrust for Magister Illyrio.”The Magister knows everything. He would be able to give us concrete information on the war in in the Seven Kingdoms and where to find the Golden Company…if you think that is the best.”

“I don’t know what is best,” he admitted.”I don’t even know who I am…Am I Jon or Aegon?”

She leaned closer and placed a kiss on her cheek, brushing her hand through his curled hair.

“You don’t need to be Aegon for me, just be Jon…that is enough for me,” she told him, his breath warm and soft on her lips.

He pulled her closer and kissed her. Then he let go of her and smiled at her.

“It might be enough for you and for me,” he told her and patted Rhaegal’s head.”Jon Sand has no claim to the Iron Throne, but Aegon Targaryen does.”

 ...

Benjen

The icy wind bit into his skin and the storm made it hard to see further than a few feet, but the landscape was still familiar to him. There is a village, he was sure and narrowed his eyes against the sharp wind. He wrapped his shawl tighter around his neck and turned around to look at his silent travelling companion Coldhands.

The servant of the Three-Eyed-Crow was a man dressed in mottled blacks and grey, a black wool scarf concealing his pale face. His armor was made of boiled leather and ringmail, but but the strangest thing were his ungloved hands, all black and cold as ice.

What is he, Benjen wondered not for the first time. Is he dead or alive?

“Whitetree,” his travelling companion said in his cold rattling voice. Benjen pulled his scarf down and took a closer look.

Coldhands was right. It was indeed Whitetree. Benjen recalled the large weirwood tree growing in the center and surrounded by a few hovels made of stone. As expected there was no sign of the living in this deserted place. There was only the howling of the wind and fresh snowflakes whirling around him as he moved through the snow.

A kingdom for a horse, Benjen thought, eying the travelling companion with envy, who was perched on a great elk. Benjen didn’t even know that one could ride these creatures, but he didn’t wish to ask for Coldhands help either. He didn’t trust him or the Three-Eyed-Crow.

“We should take shelter in the ruins until the storm eases,” Benjen replied, hoping that his travelling companion will agree with his suggestion. He needed rest even if it was only for a few hours.

“As you say,” Coldhands answered and lifted his head to look at the flock of crows never far from them. One came down, hopping on his shoulder.

“Humans…Humans…Humans!” he crow croaked.

“No dead ahead of us,” Coldhands replied and moved his elk forward. Benjen nodded his head and covered his face with the shawl, but he didn’t know what to make of the crow’s words. Dead or living humans, he wondered then and recalled the dead they encountered on their way. Wights, his travelling companion called them. The servant of the Others.

Benjen never allowed his hand to stray from the obsidian dagger fastened at his belt as they walked through the deserted town. Most of the buildings were destroyed, snow falling through he broken roofs, safe for a longhall built on logs and grown over with moss.

Stepping inside he sighed and left the cold wind behind him. Then he started to brush off the snow and eyed the dark and murky room. It was better than nothing.

“I will make a fire,” he told Coldhands and received an empty nod.

“I will go to find food,” Coldhands replied and rode off into the growing darkness.

Tired and weary he searched the surroundings for wood, but found none. He moved on to inspect the hovels and there he finally found wood, dry and unharmed by the snow.

Happy with his success he returned to the longhall and ready to go to work, but then he heard it. It was a soft mewling sound of a babe ringing through the deserted place. It made no sense to him, but when the crying grew louder Benjen was sure that this wasn’t just his mind playing a trick on him.

Humans, he thought and recalled the crow’s words. A babe.

Not wasting another moment he grabbed for dagger and followed the cries of the babe. He walked along the long dark corridor and there he found someone.

It was a woman, all wrapped up in fur and rocking a crying bundle in her arms. A girl, he guessed. A Wildling perhaps. A girl and a babe.

Not wishing to frighten her with his presence he put the dagger away and moved forward.

He was both wary and happy to see another living being.

“Hello…!” he called out to softly.”My lady.”

The girl froze instantly, her face pale and fearful as she regarded him.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he assured her, raising his hand.

“Don’t get closer!” she exclaimed, her voice weak like the whisper of leaves.”Don’t get near me dead man!”

It was then that he saw the dagger in her hand. It was made of the same dark material, like his own dagger, gifted to him by the Children.

He pulled his scarf down, revealing his face to her.”I am not dead…I am a man of the Night’s Watch.”

Finally, she lowered the dagger.

“A man of the Night’s Watch?” she asked and her eyes widened.”Like Sam…?”

“Sam?” Benjen repeated calmly, trying to recall a man going by this name.”I don’t know Sam, but if he is a man of the Night’s Watch like me…then…I…Benjen Stark call him a brother. We swore the same vow.”

The girl bit her lips, backing away from him as he dared to move closer.”The other brother’s were not kind to me…,” she stuttered fearfully.”They killed my sisters…they raped them…they killed my father.”

“I am sorry,” he apologized, not knowing what to say. He couldn’t deny the fact that he killed Wildlings.”But I saw them too…the Others. I know now why the Wildlings are fleeing South. I am not here to hurt you or your babe, I promise.”

The girl looked at him in silence, biting her lips and clutching her babe to her breast.”I don’t…,” she stuttered, but then he heard the sound of footfalls on the ground, followed by a high youthful voice.

“Gilly!” the young man called out.”I found more wood!”

The voice was ringing with happiness and a moment later a big-bellied boy with a red moon-shaped face stood in the room. Seeing Benjen the boy’s smile died and he pulled out his dagger.

“Don’t touch her…or,” he stuttered.”Or I will kill you.”

Benjen lifted his hand and gave the boy a smile.”I have no intention to harm you or that girl. My name is Benjen Stark, a brother of the Night’s Watch like you, my boy.”

The boy’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Benjen Stark!” he gasped and his dagger plopped to the ground.”We went North to find you…the Lord Commander searching for you…we thought you dead.”

“Lord Commander Mormont…,” he gasped, moving closer.”Where is he, my boy?”

The boy paled.

”He is dead. We were camping on the Fist of the First Men and then the dead came…we fled back to Craster’s Keep, but there they killed him. There was a mutiny and then Gilly here asked me to take her away to safety…to Castle Black. I am no mutineer…if you think that. I couldn’t help he Lord Commander…I was only able to save his sword.”

Then he bolted through the rooms, searching through the heap of bags and fur on the ground, before revealing a familiar blade.

Longclaw, he knew and gave the boy a confused look when he was holding it out to him.

“Keep it, my boy. It is meant for the next Lord Commander…not for me,” he told the boy.

“Of course…,” he stuttered and sighed.”I only thought…I am not good with the sword.”

“I see,” Benjen replied and started to pull off his cloak, spreading it on the ground to sit own.”

“Now tell me…What of the others who rode with you?”

“Most of them were killed by the dead and the Wildlings are also coming. The Lord Commander ordered me to return to Castle Black to warn the others,” the boy continued to explain.

Benjen moved closer and squeezed the boy’s shoulder.”We will make it back. Gilly and the babe too. Take heart, Sam.”

The boy brushed his tears away and gave him a weak nod.”Aye…we will, but first the fire.”

Benjen smiled.”Aye, a warm fire would be welcome.”

Then he rose to his feet and helped the boy with the fire, while he explained everything that had transpired in his absence. The Lord Commander called a great ranging, venturing beyond the Wall to find out about his whereabouts and the Wildlings. He also found out that the boy was Lord Tarly’s heir, sent to the Wall to make placed for his beloved younger brother.

“How much longer do we have to go?” Gilly, the wildling girl asked after a while of silence. She was feeding her babe, her eyes filled with hope as she regarded him and Sam.

“Far enough. At least another few days,” Benjen replied, not wishing to sugar the truth. Sam seemed displeased with his words, but the girl accepted it with grim silence and continued to feed her babe.

“At least we found a shelter,” Sam added, smiling over to Gilly.”But we will have to go hungry again.”

“My travelling companion will bring us food,” Benjen replied.”I am sure he will return soon.”

Sam’s grey-green eyes widened in surprise.

“So you are not alone?” he asked curiously.”Is he another brother of the Night’s Watch?”

“No, but he brought me here and promised to return me to the Wall,” Benjen explained and rubbed his hands over the warm fire.

“The Wall,” Gilly repeated softly and looked at Sam.”Is the Wall really as big as Craster told us?”

“Much bigger,” Sam piped back, spreading his hands as wide as he was able.”So big you can’t even see castles behind it.”

“A Castle,” Gilly repeated the word foreign on her lips.”Is that bigger than Craster’s Keep?”

Benjen couldn’t help but to smile.

”Aye, a castle is made of stone and much bigger than the wooden keep you used to live in. You will like it there. There will be food and a warm fire.”

A gentle smile crossed the girl’s lips and she tucked her nipple back into the fur.”I would like that…just to stand by the fire till we are warm again.”

”That you will, I promise,” he told, though he was sure that not all of his brothers will be pleased with a Wildling woman coming to the Wall.

Benjen leaned against the wall, feeling tired and weary. He could scarcely remember when he last slept and now his eyes were growing heavy. The warmth of the fire didn’t help either and soon he found himself drifting off to sleep.

It was the cry of a horse that roused him from his comforting darkness. He instinctively grabbed for his dagger, but it was only Sam leading a horse into the longhall. It was a garron, all brown and haggard.

“I am sorry for waking you!” the Sam apologized, even though there was nothing to apologize for.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he told the boy and rubbed his face, before pulling himself to his feet.”I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. It is dangerous.”

“Aye,” the boy agreed and glimpsed over to Gilly and her babe curled up in his fur cloak. The girl was awake, her doe-eyes wide in fear.”They could have followed us here.”

Benjen nodded his head and moved over to the boy, appraising the horse.”I assume that is your only horse?”

“The other one died before we came here,” he confirmed and led the horse into a corner, before returning to the fire to stir the simmering back to life.

Benjen understood why. It was strangely cold and the air itself seemed frozen.

Something is wrong, he knew and recalled his encounter with the Others, blue eyes piercing him through the darkness.

Not wasting another thought Benjen returned back to his sleeping place and grabbed for his dagger. Benjen’s blade was still whole, but he knew that it was no use against the enemy.

Whole and useless, he thought and le his gaze sweep to Gilly.

She was shivering, hugging her babe and staring ahead. Her eyes were wide and full of fear.

“He is coming for my babe,” she whimpered.”He smells him. He knows that he is here and comes to take him away.”

Benjen didn’t know what to make of her words, but then he saw it too. It was a large shadow stepping into the dark hall, barely lightened by the flickering flames of the campfire.

Benjen froze when he realized who it was. Small Paul, the giant simpleton who loved to care for the horses and other animals of Castle Black.

“Small Paul!” Sam squeaked, clutching his dagger in front of him. Benjen rushed to his side, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. He was trembling and Benjen couldn’t even fault him for it.

“It is me…Sam, fat Sam, Sam the Scared, you saved me in the woods. You carried me when I was not able to walk. No one else wanted to help me, but you did. Please, don’t hurt us.”

“He is one of them,” Benjen whispered to the boy, clutching his own dagger.”Take the girl and I will take on the creature.”

Sam nodded his head, relief etched on his features.

He stumbled over to Gilly, grabbed her arm and made his way to the kicking horse.

“Whatever you are!” Benjen called out to the creature.”It is time to end you!”

His words seemed to rouse the creature’s attention and it started to move towards him, faint blue eyes staring back at him from Small Paul’s half-frozen face.

Benjen felt the familiar coldness grazing his skin when the creature lunged towards them. He moved out of the way, plunging the dagger into the creature’s back. It shrieked again and again as Benjen continued to stab, but unable to completely penetrate the iron mail beneath the wool. Soon the dragonglass was shattered and nothing more was left of it other than a useless hilt.

My sword will have to do, Benjen thought and tried to unsheathe his blade, but Small Paul grabbed him around the neck, twisting and robbing his breath. Soon all air was drained out of his body, the creature’s cold hands of ice burning on his neck like frozen fire.

He kicked and hit the creature, but it was no use

 I can’t die here, it flittered through his mind, the world growing hazy and distant. Gathering all his strength he kicked upwards, pulling the creature off him. Then He exhaled deeply, pulled himself to his staggering feet and unsheathed his sword.

He dealt the creature a savage blow, nearly taking off it’s head, but it still kept moving.

Another blow followed, taking off the creature’s left arm. The cut-off hand was still moving, but Benjen had no time to think about it. He gathered his strength and swung his blade again, cutting deep into the creature’s body.

The blade was now buried to the hilt, but the creature was still moving. The one left hand was grabbing for his shoulder, biting and scratching on his skin.

“Die…Die…Die!” he shouted, twisting the blade again and again. Blood, skin, wool and entrails were splattered everywhere, but it was no use.

The creature tipped them over, landing on him. All air was pushed out of him, but then the creature gave a terrible shriek and stilled it’s movment.

Benjen smelled burning flesh as he pushed the creature from him and crawled to the side. Above him stood Samwell Tarly, a burning piece of wood in his hand.

I am an utter fool, he thought then recalling the words of the Three-Eyed-Crow. Fire and dragonglass can kill them.

Sam stood there like frozen to the ground, his mouth wide and speechless.

“It is no longer moving…,” Sam whimpered, but Gilly’s cry of anguish was enough to coax him out of his frozen state.

“Oh, no Gilly!” he shouted and bolted to the door. Benjen pulled his blade free and followed after Sam, but outside they found them…a dozen of deadmen, all familiar faces.

It was like being thrown into a nightmare.

“Gilly!” Sam called out to the girl, backed against the weirwood tree.”The horse…”

“The horse is dead,” Benjen provided quickly, his stomach heaving as he saw the bloody mess that was left of he poor animal. The weights tore the garron apart and were pulling out her entrails.

“Gods be good!” he heard himself whisper, wondering where his travelling companion was.

“Gods!” he heard the croak of a crow. “Gods…Gods…Gods!”

Benjen lifted his head and there they were. Hundreds of them sat perched on the branches of the tree. They croaked and spread their shadow wings, before descending upon their enemy. They plucked and picked, so many of them that Benjen was unable to see the silver moon.

“Brother!” someone called out to them, cutting through the night. Benjen recognized the rattling voice and turned in the direction of the voice.

There beneath the trees was Coldhands, sitting astride his great elk and watching as the ravens feasted upon the dead corpses of the wights.

“Where have you been?” Benjen asked him, but he ignored his question and turned to Gilly and her babe, his elk sinking to it’s knees.

”Come here and sit!” he commanded, but Gilly hesitated.

“He is my companion,” Benjen assuered her and helped her up, her baby clutched tightly to his chest.

“You as well, Sam,” he told the boy, who was still trembling. Benjen doubted he would be able to make it far by foot.

 “I thank you!” the boy replied, his breath coming out in puffs, his face all red from the cold.”What about you?”

“I can walk,” he assured him, pulling his shawl over his face.”Now let us get away from here before more of them come our way.”

…

Chapter Text

Jon

As a young boy he dreamed of meeting Ser Barristan the Brave, but now he only felt fear. Fear of confronting the truth about himself and his father the Dragon Prince. His anger for his mother didn’t make it any easier. He knew why she lied to him, but to him it felt like a burning wound.

This fear made him halt before the cabin door and he had to gather all his courage, to step inside.

As expected he found his mother in company of Ser Barristan and Lady Nym.

“Jon,” she said, relief washing over her face when she saw him standing there at the door.”Did you come to speak? Are you feeling better?”

“Feeling better,” he muttered, suppressing his anger.”My life is a lie...but you are right. I came here to speak.”

She swallowed and turned to look at Ser Barristan and Lady Nym.

”Would it be a bother to leave us…,” she began, but he cut her off before was able to continue.

“I would prefer for Ser Barristan to remain here with us,” Jon told her, before looking over to Lady Nym.”Obara is keeping Daenerys company…Maybe you want to join her?”

Nymeria gave Jon a knowing smile and rose to her feet.”Sure, someone has to keep Obara away from corrupting that little girl of yours.”

“I thank you,” he called after her and heard a soft mutter of “you better tell me later” from her lips, before she left the room. Then he breathed deeply and turned back to his mother and Ser Barristan.

As a boy he imagined Ser Barristan as a mountain of a man, undefeated and half a god, but looking at him now he only saw a man. Yet his abilities were undeniable. The way he killed the creature that attacked Daenerys proved his agility and his built told Jon that he was not lazy when it comes to his training.

He saved Daenerys, he knew and forced a smile over his lips.

“Daenerys told me that you knew my father,” he remarked hesitatingly. It was so strange to think of the Rhaegar Targaryen as his father, but he had to get used to the idea if he wanted to move forward.”What was he like? All I know of him is what other people told me, but never people who actually knew him.”

The old knight nodded his head in confirmation and glanced over to his mother.

“I did know your father, though not as well as Arthur Dayne,” he confirmed.”They were close as brothers and he was of the few people Rhaegar confided in. I can only tell you what I know. Your father was the finest man I ever knew and he would have been a good King. He was the King we were all hoping for, but fate dealt us a blow when he died.”

Fate, Jon thought and couldn’t help but to feel the urge to laugh. It certainly wasn’t fate that drove him to run off with his mother and to throw the realm into chaos.

Yet he didn’t dare to share his thoughts openly.

He came all this way to find me and Daenerys, he knew and saw the hope shining in his blue eyes.

“I gladdens my heart heart that he was so well-respected by a man like you,” Jon replied politely.”Did you know that he loved my mother? Did you know about his marriage?”

Ser Barristan dropped his head, regret washing over his features.”I did not, but most of us in the Kingsguard thought that the Prince loved his Lady Lyanna. Prince Rhaegar was melancholic, but he had nothing of his father’s cruelty. The fact that he was unable to protect Queen Rhaella from her father’s advances grieved him deeply. I never believed that he raped Lyanna Stark. He lacked the cruelty for such an act.”

These words filled him with an odd sense of relief. Daenerys is right. Prince Rhaegar may have acted foolishly, but that didn’t make him a monster. Yet he still abandoned his wife.

“Ser Barristan is right,” his mother added hesitatingly, her violet eyes searching his, begging him for forgiveness.”He may not have held as much love for Princess Elia as she for him, but he was never outright cruel to her.”

“He crowned my mother Queen of Love and Beauty. He humiliated his wife in front of everyone…I consider this cruelty,” he argued, recalling the story he heard a thousand times while residing in Sunspear. More than once he heard the Dornish refer to Lyanna Stark as the “Northern whore” who seduced the Dragon Prince. Once it was a highborn squire who knew that he was Eddard Stark’s bastard and wanted to taunt him after a lost sparring match. Jon gave him a beating for his rude words. Back then he wanted to defend his Aunt’s honor and to a wider extend that of his father’s family, but now Lyanna Stark was his mother all along. It was all quite ironic.

“He did,” Ashara confirmed, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.”His actions pained Elia deeply, but their marriage was always complicated. I don’t know if you know about it, but the Princess nearly died giving birth to Princess Rhaenys and then after Aegon…it was clear that Elia would never have another child without killing herself. Thus Rhaegar refused sharing her bed. She was so desperate that she suggested for Rhaegar to get a mistress to secure another heir. I was one of those people she took into consideration, but I refused her and I doubt Rhaegar would have ever agreed to such an arrangement. Not that it matters…he fell in love with Lyanna Stark and married her.”

Jon couldn’t help but to feel disgust for his father’s actions, but he would also be a hypocrite to hate him for falling in love. I did the same with Daenerys, he thought and his anger softened. Aye, maybe we do have something in common, father.

“Lady Ashara speaks true,” Ser Barristan agreed.”But to beget an heir was not his only reason. There was more to his motivations than fathering another heir. Arthur told me once that all Rhaegar does is done with good intentions and he alluded to me that it has to do with something he read when he was a young boy. Whatever it was, it changed him.”

This roused Jon’s curiosity.”In what way?”

“Your father Prince Rhaegar was quite a bookworm in his youth and showed little interest in learning swordplay. People were constantly joking about it, but one day he appeared before Ser Darry and demanded armor and a sword. It seems I have to be a knight…or so he had said and then he started to train like a madman and became quite a capable fighter in his own right, though it was not enough to defeat Robert Baratheon.”

Jon shivered, recalling Daenerys visions from the House of the Undying.

“The dragon has three heads,” he quoted Daenerys words.”That is what Daenerys heard Prince Rhaegar say when she saw a vision of him conjured up by the warlocks in the House of the Undying.”

His mother wrinkled his brows and Ser Barristan’s eyes widened in understanding.

“The three dragons…,” Ser Barristan muttered, his words half a gasp.

”Maybe or maybe not, but it still doesn’t answer why there need to be three heads of the dragon,” Jon added.”Did Ser Arthur ever mention what the Prince saw?”

Ser Barristan looked distraught.

”Not to me, he was always very secretive. All I know is that Prince Duncan once brought a woodswitch to court who prophesized that there will be a prince born from their line to bring back eternal spring. The prophecy of the woodswitch was the reason King Aerys and Queen Rhaella were forced to wed.”

“Rhaegar didn’t tell me either,” Ashara added.”But Princess Elia made such allusions. When she asked me to become Rhaegar’s mistress she told me that there needs to be one more child. When he was trying to conceive Aegon Prince Rhaegar asked the Maester to keep books about the stars. I and the other ladies found it strange and made japes about it, but Elia scolded us for our laughter. I asked her about it and she told me that the Promised Prince will be born under a bleeding star.”

“Promised Prince?” he asked in disbelief, recalling Daenerys words. He is the Prince that was promised. His is the Song of Ice and Fire. There needs to be one more.”What promised Prince?”

His mother bit her lips and gave him a strange look.”Back then I didn’t understand what Elia’s words meant…not until Eddard Stark brought you to Starfall. He told me everything and when he revealed you to be Aegon Targaryen I was cursed your mother…Aegon was Elia’s smothered babe, but Eddard Stark explained it to me and then I finally understood what Elia meant. Rhaegar thought Aegon to be the Promised Prince, but when he was killed Princess Lyanna wanted to honor your father’s dream.”

“So I am not only a Prince, but also a promised one…I am sorry, but all this bloodshed because of a prophecy,” he replied angrily.”I don’t think it was worth it.”

“You are right, but all of this this is the past. You still have a future awaiting you in Dorne. That you are set on marrying Princess Daenerys is a problem, but I am sure Prince Doran will understand,” his mother said and made an attempt to touch his hand, but he pulled it away.

“I am Prince Doran’s second choice,” he replied more sharply than intended.”He would have never chosen me if he Prince Viserys was alive. My mother is the reason his family was humiliated…I can’t go back yet.”

His mother’s eyes widened.

”I don’t understand…,” she began, but Jon answered quickly.”You heard right…I won’t be sailing for Westeros. We don’t know anything about the situation there. We cannot go blindly and I won’t go as a beggar. I have already spoken with Daenerys…she thinks we should go to Pentos to speak to Magister Illyrio. I don’t full trust him, but there we may hear news about Westeros. Ser Jorah thinks suggested recruiting the Unsullied and I am hoping that Magister Illyrio might be able to tell us where to find the Golden Company.”

“I can’t help you in regards to the Unsullied, but I know someone who serves in the Golden Company,” Ser Barristan replied, brushing his beard.” An old friend of your father, Prince Rhaegar. Jon Connington, the former Lord of Griffin’s Roost.”

His mother paled.

”Jon Connington is dead…,” she said, but Ser Barristan shook his head.

“That is what I believed,” Ser Barristan explained.”But King Robert wanted to be sure and asked the Spider to inquire about his whereabouts. He was always afraid of a Targaryen Restoration and it turned out that Jon Connington is still alive and serving as a captain in the Golden Company. It doesn’t surprise me…he was a good fighter. People always remember his failure during the Battle of the Bells, but he was one of the most capable men I knew and he loved your father dearly. If there is anyone who will help us then it is Jon Connington.”

“Love indeed,” his mother added with a sad smile.”Lord Connington was a good man…he will help you.”

Jon realized that she was prepared to accept his wishes and the tight knot around his heart loosened a little.

“I thank you,” he told her.”I know you hoped for something different, but I can’t…,” he wanted to add, but the smile on her lips stopped him.

“I understand better than you think,” she told him, determination glowing in her eyes.”You have my support.”

…

Meera

Meera woke at dawn, the wind howling through the broken towers, making the keep groan in an agonizing sound. Beneath her she heard the squeaking of rats or mice. The Children of the Rat Cook, Bran had called them yesterday, but even such jests didn’t help to ease her discomfort.

She rose to her feet and stretched her limps, letting her gaze sweep over the ruin that was the Nightfort. The great hall was still visible, but the yards and stables were littered with trees and branches. There was even a white weirwood pushing up through the gaping hole in the roof of the domed kitchen.

“You are awake,” Bran’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He lay not far form her, huddled up in warm furs and leaning against Summer’s body. The wolf was also awake, his golden eyes staring at her from the distance. Even the wolf was not comfortable in this place.”Hodor and Jojen are still sleeping.”

She forced a smile over her lips and turned around to find her brother sleeping next to the soft-hearted giant. They had been walking a whole day and now they were terribly exhausted.

Meera felt still weary, but a few hours of sleep were better than nothing.

“Aye,” she whispered and rose to her feet, moving closer to Bran and settling down next to him.”They are tired, let them sleep.”

Bran grabbed for her hand and squeezed it tightly.”I can’t sleep…My dreams…,” he tried to explain and she understood at once. Bran was much like Jojen, always haunted by his dreams.

“What did you see?” she asked, her voice drowned out by the howling wind.

“My brother Robb…and my sister Sansa…and Arya…and strangers…one looked like my father, but much younger,” Bran whispered into her ear.

“What was so terrible about these dreams?” she dared to ask, her heart speeding up in anticipation. Jojen’s dreams never failed to disturb her, but she tried to be brave. For Bran’s sake.

“I saw Greywind die…and Sansa…she was crying…and Arya she was killing someone, stabbing him over and over again…and the young man who looked like my father…he had a dragon…all green and golden.”

“A dragon?” she gasped, barely able to believe it.”Are you sure?”

Bran nodded his head in confirmation.”I am sure…and there was also a girl with silver hair and purple eyes.”

“A Targaryen,” Meera offered and Bran gave her an agreeing nod.”Maybe it was a vision from the past?”

“Maybe,” Bran agreed, lowering his head.”But it was not a vision of Westeros. They were in some far away, desert-like place. I think it was Essos or maybe it was Dorne…I am not sure…Father always said that Dorne is a hot and dry place.”

Essos, she repeated to herself and pondered over the vision. Then it hit her.

”The Mad King’s children live in exile. Father spoke about them,” she explained and felt proud to be able to answer Bran’s question.”The young man…maybe he is a relative of yours…Your father has a bastard son, didn’t he?”

“Jon,” Bran provided quickly, „but I don’t know what he looks like, but it is possible. The young man…he had the Stark face and Arya’s eyes, but that doesn’t explain how he got a dragon and what he is doing in Essos.”

“Or maybe it was only a dream, my Prince,” she added gently, ruffling through his red locks.

Her actions brought a laugh to Bran’s lips.”Maybe.”

“You are a warg,” Jojen’s solemn voice offered, piercing the silence.”Maybe your brother is has the same abilities. I have never heard of wargs being able to control dragons, but then there haven’t been seen any dragons in a century.”

“Brother,” Meera called out to him and moved closer. He looked so pale and weak, but she knew he would only be displeased with her if she dared to speak about it.”Did we wake you?”

“I am always half awake, Meera,” Jojen replied.”We should move on. We need to find a passage, the Three-Eyed-Crow is awaiting us.”

“There is no way,” Meera insisted.”The Gate is sealed and it won’t open for us.”

“Someone is coming,” Jojen answered vaguely as ever.”Someone able to show us the way.”

Meera sighed and made her way over to Hodor to wake the soft-hearted giant from his sleep.”Hodor, wake up…we need to move on.”

“Hodor, Hodor!” the giant whispered, rubbing his eyes.

“Hodor, please come here,” Jojen told the giant.”Bran needs to be carried.”

Bran frowned when Hodor lifted him into the basket placed around his shoulders.

“How can you be so sure?” Meera asked her brother.”Maybe we should go to another castle. I could go scouting. It would take a few days, but you could stay here and rest.”

“East from here is Deep Lake, then Queensgate. West is Icemark, but they will be the same, only smaller than this one. All the gates are sealed except the ones at Castle Black, Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower,” Bran explained.

“Bran is right,” Jojen agreed.”This place is the right place to cross the Wall. We only have to find the way through.”I think I know where…the well…follow me.”

“Did you see that in your dreams?” she asked and clutched her spear tighter.

“Aye, sweet sister,” Jojen replied, solemn as ever and lead them along. Meera walked next to Hodor and Summer, glimpsing up to Bran. He tried to appear brave, but he was just a boy.

“The well?” Bran asked.”I don’t like it there.”

“But it is where we have to go,” Jojen insisted, his green eyes unyielding as ever. The well was deep, with stone steps built into the side and circling down into never-ending darkness. Only the torch Meera lit was providing them with light against the darkness.

“Hodor, Hodor!” the soft giant called out, his voice echoing down into the depths of the well.

Then she heard the noise.

What was that, she wondered and searched her brother’s face.”Did you hear that?”

Jojen nodded his head.”They are coming.”

“Who?” Bran asked, squirming in his basket seat.”Who did you see?”

Jojen ignored them and the sounds grew louder. As if something was coming up from the ground, creeping up from the darkness.

Meera clutched her spear tighter and kept close to Summer. The wolf was tense, his golden eyes watching the shadows move.

“Footsteps,” Bran said.”Those footsteps are coming from the well.”

Meera listened again and had to agree. Those were heavy, slow footfalls scraping against the stone. Whatever it was, it had to be huge and it was coming closer.

“Calm yourself, sister,” Jojen told her, raising his hand.

“What if it is dangerous…,” she began, but stopped herself when she heard a piercing wail. She stepped closer to the well, her spear raised and looked down. There was a huge black shape, moving among the shadows and coming closer.

Afraid, she snapped her spear at the huge black thing. A loud wail followed and the black thing staggered and fell. Then it continued to wail in a human voice.”No, please…mercy…don’t kill me!”

She was flabbergasted. It was no monster, but a big-bellied boy.

“Who are you?” she asked, still a little startled.

The boy looked at her, his green-grey eyes streaked with tears.

“I am Sam,” the boy sobbed.”You nearly stabbed me.”

She eyed him closely, but found no wound.

”There is no blood,” she told him, but he continued to weep. She didn’t know what to say or to do and gave Jojen a questioning look.

“There are more,” Jojen added and moved closer to the well, a torch in his hand.

It was true. There was a pale thin-faced girl standing by the lip of the well, all bundled in furs and skins and holding a small babe. Next to her was another man, half-hidden by the shadows. He was also dressed in black like the weeping boy.

“You are a brother of the Night’s Watch, are you not?” Bran asked, lifting himself up.

“Aye…aye,” the boy replied weakly and rubbed his arm, where Meera hit him.”I am Sam and a brother of the Night’s Watch…but I am not alone. There is Gilly…and her baby…and another …,” the young man continued, but the other man cut him off.

“I am Benjen Stark,” he added, his voice hoarse and breathless. As the man moved closer the torch revealed a long solemn face framed by shaggy black hair. His grey-blue eyes were fixed on Hodor, no Bran.

Meera’s gaze darted to Bran. He looked pale, his eyes of summer glittering with tears.

“Bran!” he stuttered and was quickly at Bran’s side, cradling his face between his gloved hands.

“Uncle Benjen!” it escaped Bran and he buried his face in the man’s dirty cloak.”I thought you are dead!”

“I thought so too,” Benjen Stark answered and lifted his head.”Gods…Bran…What are you doing here? What happened to you and why are you not in Winterfell?”

“Winterfell was burned by the Ironborn …Theon betrayed Robb,” Bran explained, but the man looked utterly confused.

“Maybe we should sit down and speak,” Meera offered gently and tugged on Bran’s shoulder.

“Of course,” Benjen added, all happiness gone from his face.”Let us speak…let us sit down and speak.”

Hodor lifted Bran out of his basket and settled down.

“Now tell me…,” Benjen urged.”You said that Robb was betrayed…Where is my brother?”

“Dead,” Bran replied quietly, his face a grimace of pain.”Joffrey Baratheon took his head. Robb rode South to save him, but he never returned. Theon came to Winterfell and then the Boltons. They murdered everyone. I don’t know what happened to Robb…but Sansa is in King’s Landing and Arya…we haven’t heard from her in a long time.”

Benjen Stark didn’t speak nor weep. He was frozen, his face as pale as the fresh-fallen snow. He only rose to his feet and hit the wall.

Meera winced. Then he started to weep, but neither Meera nor Bran nor Jojen dared to speak to him. Only Sam made an attempt but was ignored.

At least an hour passed until Benjen Stark returned to them. He looked still pale, his eyes red-rimmed.”Robb…my brother…Arya…Sansa…you mentioned them all…Where is Rickon?”

“I sent him and Osha to the Umbers,” Bran replied.”He is the heir to Winterfell. You need to find and protect him.”

Uncle Benjen grabbed for Bran’s arm and squeezed.”We will…we will do it together.”

Bran shook his head, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.”I can’t…I need to get beyond the Wall…the Three-Eyed Crow is calling for me.”

Benjen froze again.

”No!” he shouted then.”I won’t allow it!”

“You know the Three-Eyed-Crow,” Jojen said.”You are the one to lead us through the door. I saw you.”

Benjen grounded his teeth and brushed his hair out of his face.”Who are you, boy?”

“Jojen Reed…son of Howland Reed, the Lord of Greywater Watch. I am a greenseer and so is Bran. He needs to go to the Three-Eyed Crow to learn. All our fate depends on it or all will be lost once winter comes for us.”

“The Others,” Benjen confirmed and let go of Bran’s arm.

“You saw them?” Jojen asked.

“Aye,” Benjen confirmed.”They are terrifying. The Three-Eyed Crow saved me. He told me that the Wildlings are fleeing from them and that I have to go back to the Wall to warn them.”

“Then you have your duty and we have ours, Lord Stark,” Jojen argued, but Meera saw the disapproval etched on Benjen Stark’s face.

“I can’t let you go…your father would never forgive me!” Benjen exclaimed.”Never!”

Bran gave his Uncle a sad smile.

“What use can I be at the Wall…I am broken and bent. Rickon will be the heir if Robb doesn’t come back. Find him and protect him. Jojen speaks true…we all have our duty. Yours is to return to the Wall and mine is to find the Three-Eyed Crow.”

“There is a Gate and a man named Coldhands who will escort you to the Three-Eyed Crow,” Benjen replied after a long time, his hands balled to fists.”You will need dragonglass daggers…fire and dragonglass are the only effective weapons against the Others and the wights.

Bran smiled and enclosed his Uncle in a tight hug.”I thank you...I thank you.”

...

Chapter Text

Daenerys

Pentos greeted them with a blue summer sky and a gentle breeze blowing over the harbor. Her dragons seemed to enjoy the pleasant weather and were gliding over the sky. Two moons ago they left Qarth and her children were steadily growing. Syndor was still the biggest, but she had no doubt that the others will catch up with their brother. Especially now that they were finally able to fly own their own they often spent hours catching fish.

“Syndor!” she called out to her loyal beast and it only takes a blink of a moment for him to propel himself back to the ship, landing on the wooden floor. In the distant she heard the fearful whispering of the sailors, but she ignored them and smiled at her dragon.

“Do you think they really understand you, Khaleesi?” Doreah asked from her place on the floor with Rhaella at her side. Her little girl was now nearly six moons and enjoyed rolling on the ground, though she trusted Doreah keep her safe. Unlike Edric her little girl seemed unaffected by the rolling waves.

“I think so,” she replied.”They listen to my commands and one day I will be able to ride one of them.”

“They are certainly growing,” Doreah agreed, but Daenerys heard the fear ringing in her voice. The dragons were indeed growing, but they were no pets. They liked to fight with each other and are certainly capable of burning a man alive. The House of the Undying proved this.

Doreah was also not the only one afraid of them. The captain gave her anxious looks when she brought her children on the ship, but that was no surprise. Nobody has seen dragons in more than a century. People will need time to get used to them, though she first needed to learn to control them.

“And where will you keep them once they are big enough to ride?” Lady Ashara added, seated on a cushioned seat next to Doreah. She was dressed in a flowing velvet dress, her hair freely flowing around her shoulders. Seeing her carefree like this made Daenerys realized how young Lady Ashara was.

She was also Rhaella’s grandmother. Granted she was not her blood, but it was her who raised Jon. She is also the only grandmother Rhaella will ever have.

“My brother Viserys told me that there is a Dragonpit in King’s Landing,” she explained vaguely, „though I would prefer to keep them unchained. You saw how they fussed when the Captain wanted me lock them up. I don’t think I would able to do that again.”

“I have seen this place,” Lady Ashara replied.”It is a ruin now and your brother Rhaegar liked going there. He always had a fondness for ruins, especially Summerhall.”

“Summerhall?” she asked out of curiosity.”I heard it burned down.”

“It was a tragedy what transpired there,” Lady Ashara replied sadly.”Your mother Queen Rhaella told me the story. King Aegon the Unlikely wanted to hatch dragons, but nearly wiped out his entire family. Your mother birthed Rhaegar on this day. He was a man who was born amidst tragedy.”

“I will rebuild Summerhall,” she declared and returned to Doreah’s side, hoisting Rhaella into her arms.”Rhaella and her Prince will need a place to reside.”

A loving smile crossed Lady Ashara’s lips.”I am sure Prince Trystane will appreciate it.”

“I sure hope so,” Daenerys said in a jesting tone and placed a kiss on Rhaella’s curly head.”It will not be easy for him to earn my daughter’s heart. I hope he shows good manners.”

“I am sure Jon will make sure of it,” Obara remarked, who has been quietly listening to their conversation. She was leaning against the wooden railing of the ship, enjoying the gentle rocking of the boat, her spear in hand. Lady Nym called her sister’s spear her lover, but Daenerys knew better. Only recently she saw Obara with one of the sailors.

“Speaking of Jon,” Lady Ashara remarked.”Is Edric still vomiting his guts out?”

“Jon has been sitting with him all night and now the both of them are sleeping,” Daenerys replied, recalling the poor boy’s suffering. Everyday he was vomiting, hardly able to keep down his food. Jon was ever worried, which made her feel only more relieved that they finally arrived in Pentos.

“Speaking of Jon,” Daenerys added with a smile and handed Rhaella back to Lady Ashara.”I should go and inform him of our arrival. He will not want to waste time to seek out the magister.”

”Then go, sweet child,” Lady Ashara told her and smiled happily as she held Rhaella in her arms.”I will keep your girl company.”

Both Jon and Edric were sleeping when she entered Edric’s cabin.

Jon was a light sleeper and it was easy to wake him. His grey eyes fluttered open and a tired smile tugged on his lips when he saw her.

“Pentos is in sight,” she whispered to him and touched his arm, „our captain is anxious for us to leave.”

“Aye,” he replied and pulled her down to place a kiss on her cheek.

“Wake the little Lord and join us,” she explained and left him to returned to Lady Ashara’s side. Half an hour later the ship they arrived at the harbor.

For Daenerys it felt like a lifetime ago that she came here with Viserys to reside in the magister’s manse.

Two years, she counted and recalled how relieved she had been to to finally be able to sleep in a proper bed or to have a warm bath. Then he helped her brother to sell her to Khal Drogo, but he also gave her the dragon eggs.

It made her wonder what the magister will say about heir dragons. Will he try taking them away like Ser Jorah told me?

Never, she swore to herself and smiled when Rhaegal came greet Jon. Edric was also in his company. He was still pale around the face, but she also spotted a smile showing on his pale lips.

He is happy to leave the ship behind, she knew and gave them each a smile.

“It gladdens my heart to see that you are better, Edric,” she told him and the young boy dropped his head in acknowledgment.

“And you really think the fat magister will help us?” Obara asked, her eyes glimpsing over to Ser Jorah. He was strangely silent since Jon’s true birth was revealed to them, but that was no surprise to her. She may be young, but she was aware that Ser Jorah wanted more from her than she could give.

When she told him that she intended to wed Jon he accepted it with a grim silence, but she had no doubt that he was still harboring anger towards her.

One day I will find him a proper lady and we could ask Jon’s brother to allow him to return to the North. This will make him forget about the past.

“Magister Illyrio protected me and Viserys from the Usurper’s sword,” she told the Dornish lady.”I don’t fully trust him, but I am sure the dragons will help. Besides, he is a merchant. There has to be something he wants.”

Lady Obara gave her a determined look and tapped her spear on the ground.”If the pig lord tries harming you, I will show him my spear. I promise that.”

Daenerys couldn’t help but to smile. Obara Sand was so unlike other women, running around with a spear and all. It made her wonder what the Dothraki would have made of her.

“I appreciate your loyalty, Lady Obara,” she replied and Syndor gave an agreeing shriek. He sat perched on her shoulder, almost too heavy for her now, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to keep him close. It helped her to ease her nerves.

As expected the magister sent a score of servants to greet them. A few days ago the captain of their ship sent a bird to inform the magister of their coming.

“A humble servant of Magister Illyrio greets you, Princess Daenerys Taragaryen,” the man tittered. She recalled him as one of the two eunuchs the magister kept to lord over his pleasure slaves.

“I greet you,” she replied and smiled at the man. She tried to appear confident and Syndor’s presence certainly helped with this.”I am also thankful for the horses. Please lead us to your Master.”

“Of course…of course!” the man replied and bobbed his head. Daenerys had no need of her Silver, but the guards Lady Ashara brought with her seemed more than thankful for the provided horses.

They received curious glances from the people of Pentos. She saw people pointing their fingers at Viserion, women grabbing their children and others who were hiding away from her dragons. Luckily, Syndor remained perched on her shoulder and Rhaegal on Jon’s, but Viserion was always the most curious of the three. Whenever there was something new to discover Viserion he was the first one to be there.

Even Rhaella seemed taken with him and Daenerys encouraged it. Viserys told her that it was not uncommon to place a dragon egg in the crib of a child in hopes that the egg will hatch and become a good companion. It worked with King Aenys, if she recalled correctly. He was a sickly child, but after his he received the hatchling Quicksilver his ailments improved greatly.

Magister Illyrio was awaiting them with great feast that was laid outside in his spacious gardens.

“Oh, sweet Princess!” he called out to her and stroked his yellow beard.”Let me take a look at you.”

Daenerys granted him a false smile and bowed her head in reverence, presenting Syndor as obvious possible. She wanted him to see the dragon, to make him understand that times have changed. She was no longer a girl ready to be sold to buy Viserys and army.

He clapped his hands together and bared his crooked teeth.”Oh, you are lovely as ever and those beasts of yours are pleasure to behold. My captain was kind enough to inform me about their need for food. They will have their fill, I promise.”

“I thank you, for he is not the only one of my children,” she told him and Jon stepped forward and whistled. Rhaegal shrieked and propelled himself into the air to land on the green grass. Viserion soon joined him, starting to wrangle with his brother. Daenerys told Syndor to join them, knowing that he was the only one able to keep his brothers from fighting.

The magister laughed like a little child and clapped his hands together.

“How, wonderful to behold!” he said and winked with his hands.”Please, my friends. Let us sit down and speak. I am sure we have a lot to talk about.”

“Of course,” Daenerys replied and soon servants were called forward to bring more food. “Your hospitality is appreciated.

A sly smile crossed over the magister’s lips.

“I assume it has to do with that ugly barbed chair of your father King Aerys,” he remarked, before his eyes darted to Jon.”I hoped that your brother would turn out to become a proper King, but it seems I was proven wrong. His death is regrettable, but it seems you found yourself a more pleasant replacement.”

Daenerys froze, utterly flabbergasted by his words. How did he you find out?

Jon was equally shocked, his face pale like curdled milk.”You know about me, my Lord?”

The magister laughed and glimpsed over to Lady Ashara.”Forgive me, my Lady. Spying on my guests is a bad habit of mine. One of my servants overheard your little talk with Ser Barristan.”

Then he turned back to Daenerys and Jon.”Your existence is quite a surprise, but with Prince Viserys’ regretful death we will have to be satisfied with what we got, won’t we?”

Jon gave the magister a dark look.

”That is why we are here. I intend to seek out the Golden Company. Ser Barristan thinks Lord Connington, one of my father’s friends who is also serving as a Captain in the Golden Company will be able to to convince them to join our cause.”

The magister stroke his yellow beard and put his goblet down.”That is a daring quest, but I prepared to provide you with the necessary information. I might also be able to help with gold, if you are in need of it. I am always prepared to invest into a good business.”

“Good business?” Daenerys asked, still skeptical of the man’s generosity.”I don’t doubt your good intentions, but you weren’t that forward with my brother, were you? He wanted to hire the Golden Company and you told him to make do with the Dothraki. Why the sudden change of mind?”

The magister put a grape in his mouth and regarded her with an amused smile. Rhaella was settled in her lap, nibbling on the hem of her dress. Teething, Lady Ashara called it.

“It seems your time with the Dothraki did you good, sweet Princess,” he complimented her, „but to answer your question: My reason for recommending your brother to make do with the Dothraki was done with the intention to buy us more time. He was so eager to reclaim his crown when the time wasn’t ripe for it or that is what I believed. Even I was unable to foresee that the dead of Eddard Stark would spark a war. Had your brother lived it would have been the perfect time to prepare for an invasion, but now he is dead and you and your nephew are here, sweet Princess. Plans are like the season, they change every few moons.”

“Do you know the state of the Realm?” Jon asked, his dark eyes filled with anticipation.”Has someone claimed the crown yet or are the Lannisters still in power?”

“A few moons ago Stannis Baratheon was marching towards the capital, trying to reclaim his crown. Sadly for him, he failed and became the victim of wildfire.”

“Wildfire?” Ser Barristan asked, his blue eyes wide in shock.”Gods, be good.”

The magister nodded in agreement.

”I was startled as well, but it seems someone found the wildfire stores of your father King Aerys and put it to good use. Stannis Baratheon’s fleet was burned to cinder, though the grim man apparently survived and returned back to Dragonstone.”

Daenerys pulled Rhaella closer, a feeling of sickness washing over her. She held no love for Stannis Baratheon or his family, but the men who died were only serving their King.

“What about Renly Baratheon?” Lady Ashara asked.”When I left Dorne we heard that he wed Margaery Tyrell and had aspirations to crown himself.”

“You heard right, my Lady. Renly did indeed crown himself, but he was slain and the Tyrell’s joined sides with the Lannisters. Margaery is now pledged to wed Joffrey Baratheon.”

“Those are dire news,” Ser Barristan added.”The Tyrells have the biggest army and are now allied with the enemy, but that was to be expected. Mace Tyrell was always dreaming of wedding his children to royalty. Princess Rhaenys was barely a few days old when he sent an envoy to Prince Rhaegar hoping for a betrothal for his heir Willas.”

“There is always hope, good Sir,” the magister replied, unbothered by the news.”I don’t consider it a problem. The bastard King can die and then his wife will be a widow. Mace Tyrell will throw himself at your feet if you give his daughter a crown.”

“I will not wed Margaery Tyrell,” Jon told him his dark eyes sharp.”I intend to wed Daenerys. I don’t want our child to be a bastard and Daenerys will give me the legitimacy I need. Then nobody will ever question the claim of my children. Besides, I don’t want to be Mace Tyrells’ puppet King. Once we return it will be with an army and dragons at our back. He can choose to join us or remain with the Lannisters. Robb Stark, Eddard Stark’s son is King in the North and has ties to both the Riverlands and the Vale. If I can convince him to join us we will have an army able to rival even the Reach and the Westerlands.”

When the magister grew utterly silent, Daenerys knew that something was amiss.

The magister winked at one of the servants and ordered him to refill Jon’s goblet of wine.”Please, drink my friend. You will need after I told you what happened to the Young Wolf.”

Jon froze, his dark eyes narrowing in confusion.”I don’t understand…Did he die?”

The magister nodded his head.”Drink up and then I will tell you. Believe me…you will need it.”

Jon’s hand was trembling as he brought the goblet to his lips. He quickly drowned the wine and slashed it down on the table.

“Now tell me.”

“Your cousin was betrayed and murdered by the Frey Lords,” the magister said.

Jon’s features betrayed a mixture of confusion and pain.”Walder Frey, the Lord of the Crossing? Why would he murder my cousin…Robb’s mother is a Lady of Riverrun.”

“I don’t know the exact details, but my source told me that he broke his vow to wed one of his daughters. It seems Lord Tywin Lannister made use of it and convinced the Frey Lord to join his side. A bannerman of your cousin was also involved…a certain Lord Bolton who calls himself now Warden of the North.”

“Warden of the North!” Jon exclaimed and slashed his hand on the table. Daenerys winced at the impact and grabbed his arm.”Lord Eddard Stark has two other trueborn sons and a daughter kept as a hostage in King’s Landing. They have a claim to the North…Even I have a stronger claim than this Lord Bolton.”

“The boys you are speaking of were apparently murdered when the Ironborn raided the North,” the magister provided and lifted his goblet.”Drink up, my friend. Believe me… wine is the only help against such vile treachery. I am speaking from experience.”

“I am not in the mood for more wine,” Jon replied sharply and flashed the magister a piercing look.”How long until you are able to provide me with the whereabouts of the Golden Company?”

“Give me a few days and I will be able to tell you more,” the magister provided quickly.

Jon gave him an understanding nod and rose to his feet.

”I thank you…I am tired. I will gladly speak with you tomorrow,” Jon added in a trembling voice and left them.

The magister gave her a strange look.

”One heartbreak after another, but life is often cruel to those who deserve it the least.”

Daenerys nodded her head and took a moment to calm down. All she could think about was the vision in the House of the Undying. The Wolf King presiding over a bloody feast.

“Lady Ashara,” she managed at last.”Will you take care of Rhaella? I need to speak to Jon.”

Lady Ashara gave her sad look.”Of course.”

Daenerys found Jon alone, sitting on the steps of the balcony leading out to the gardens and staring at bleeding sky.

“The comet is gone,” Jon said, but didn’t turn around to look at her.”Do you think the warlocks really sent the comet to lead us to Qarth?”

She shrugged her shoulders and settled down next to him.

”I don’t know, but I don’t really care,” she admitted and squeezed his hand.”It saved us. That is all that counts for me.

He inclined his head to look at her. There were no tears, only burning anger hidden in the blackness of his eyes.

“I don’t care either,” he stated and leaned down to kiss her hand.

A moment of heavy silence followed. His strange calmness scared her, but she tried to hide her worry.

“Daenerys…what I said about the Unsullied. I changed my mind. Follow Ser Jorah’s advice and go to Astapor. You have my blessing.”

His change of mind surprised her, but she had a very good idea what brought it about.

Yet she didn’t like what his words indicated.

“You mean to go alone to recruit the Golden Company, don’t you?”

”We are quicker if we split up and I don’t want to waste more time. Eddard Stark’s daughter is still a hostage. I intend to free her and make her Lady of Winterfell. This will bring us the support of the Northern Lords and the Riverlands and maybe the Vale. Add Dorne’s support, the Golden Company and the Unsullied and it will have to be enough to destroy the Lannisters and these treacherous lords that murdered my cousin.”

Daenerys didn’t like the idea of parting, but he was right. She also understood his haste.

“I understand,” she replied and held him close.”I understand.”

…

Benjen

Leaving the Nightfort behind them they walked to Deep Lake, and from Deep Lake to Queensgate, following a narrow track from one castle to the next, always with the Wall in sight.

A few more days, Benjen told himself and trudged along, his feet wound and his shoulder still aching.

Maester Aemon will help you, Samwell Tarly had told him, but Benjen had his doubts. The Children saved his life, but even they were unable to take away the pain.

Not that it mattered. He was prepared to do his duty, not matter the pain.

Behind him he heard Samwell’s groaning, his face all flushed from the exhaustion it took him to continue. Gilly, the Wildlings girl had more stamina, but that was no surprise. She was a woman used to hardship and other horrors, Benjen couldn’t even imagine. Craster had always disgusted him and he shed no tear over his death.

May the pig burn in hell, he thought and looked at Gilly and her babe. I will keep her safe, for Samwell’s sake. I owe him my life.

“Sam!” Gilly exclaimed suddenly and started to tremble.”Did you hear that?”

Benjen listened and turned around. There following along a muddy road was a column of riders coming from the west.

Their black ragged clothing told him all he needed to know. Brothers of the Night’s Watch. Finally.

Gilly looked frightened, clutching her babe tightly to her breast.

“Those are our brothers,” Sam assured her and smiled.”They will bring us to Castle Black.”

“Aye,” Benjen added and hurried towards the raiders. Benjen winked, hoping to get their attention. Luckily, they were hard to miss in this wasteland of ice and snow.

“Gods be good!” Ser Denys Mallister, from the Shadow Tower exclaimed.”Is that you, Benjen Stark?”

“The gods have nothing to do with it,” Benjen replied and couldn’t help but to smile.”Aye, it’s me. Benjen Stark.”

The elderly man started to laugh and pulled him into a hug.”Gods, we thought you dead. This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Samwell Tarly!” another voice exclaimed, belonging to a thin, grey-haired man. It was Dolorous Edd.”Where have you been and how did you find Benjen Stark?”

“I…,” the boy stuttered, all eyes fixed on the boy. Then he fell to his keens and started to weep.

“I am surprised that you didn’t kill him, Stark,” a familiar voice roused his attention.”I would have been unable to endure his constant whining.”

It was Bowen Marsh, all bloody and bruised.

He was not the only one. All men looked tired and weary, many of them sporting wounds and bruises.

“Sam went through much,” Benjen explained, trying to suppress his anger.”Looking at you it seems you encountered a band of Wildlings. They are marching South.”

“We not only encountered them…we butchered them at the Bridge of the Skulls. Hundred of our brothers died, but we gave the Wildlings a good battle. The rest of them were smashed by Stannis Baratheon’s men. Mance Ryder was taken captive and thousands of his best men were slain…the rest was scattered like the leaves in the wind. I doubt will dare to return.”

Benjen felt as if all air was drained out of him. What is Stannis Baratheon doing at the Wall?

Well, it matters not. The true enemy is still lurking beyond the Wall and he will need help if he wanted to prepare his brothers for the true enemy. Seeing their enthusiastic smiles about the butchering of the Wildlings he doubted it will be easy.

“Where is Stannis Baratheon now?” he asked Ser Denys instead.

“At Castle Black,” Ser Denys replied.”I would be a pleasure to take you there. Your return will help to lift the spirits. I heard the attack on Castle Black was very bloody and we also lost our Lord Commander.”

Benjen gave the man a weary nod.”Aye, I have heard about Lord Commander Mormont’s death.”

They travelled for another day until they arrived at Castle Black, but nothing they told him could have prepared him for the destruction. The common hall was burned to the ground. Donal Noye was dead along with many others. The loss pained Benjen, but his purpose kept him focused.

It was hard for him to fully trust the intentions of this Three-Eyed Crow, but he was determined to make use of his second chance.

That he received strange looks was another thing he tried to ignore. The majority of his brothers were happy about his return, but others eyed him with suspicion.

He knew what they were thinking. How did he survive? Did the Wildlings help him?

It was not the first time that something like this happened and he didn’t even fault them for it. Yet he couldn’t tell them how he survived. They would declare him a madman.

Even Maester Aemon was puzzled by his return when Sam led him to the elderly man.

“The gods were kind to send you back to us, my Lord Stark. We are in dire need of leadership,” the old man said.

Benjen knew what he was referring to. The post of Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch is empty.

That is reason the Three-Eyed-Crow sent me back.

“I will never be able to replace Lord Commander Mormont, but I want to run for this position. We will soon have to face an even more dangerous enemy than the Wildlings,” he told the old man, but remained vague. Yet the old man was smart enough to understand that he wasn’t referring to the Wildlings.

“You saw them too, didn’t you?” he asked and Benjen was sure that Sam told him.

“Aye, I saw them…They are terrifying.”

The Maester exhaled deeply and patted his hand, as if he was a little child.

“King Stannis asked for your presence,” Maester Aemon added.”He wants to speak with you, my Lord. He said at once, but I told him that you have only just returned to us and that you are in dire need of rest.”

“What did he answer you?” Benjen asked with amusement. Donal Noye told him that Stannis Baratheon was a man difficult man. Dealing with him couldn’t have been easy, but old Maester Aemon appeared calm as ever.

“He grounded his teeth and gave me an impatient ‘As you say’ or so I heard him mutter,” the Maester replied with a subtle smile.

“Do not fret about it, good Maester. I will speak to our proud King at once if it pleases him.”

The Maester smiled.

”You can find him in Hardin’s Tower, though he also likes walking the Wall in company of Lady Melisandre.”

Benjen wrinkled his brows in confusion.”Who is that? His mistress?”

“She is a sorceress, be careful when you speak to her.”

“I will,” Benjen assured him. Then he went to wash himself and donned fresh clothing.

Benjen was no fool. He knew why Stannis came here. Not only to save us, but to garner support for his campaign against the Lannisters.

My brother would have supported his claim, Benjen was sure. But the Night’s Watch takes no part.

It was a young pale-faced boy that led him up to Hardin’s Tower and announced his arrival to the King.

King Stannis was a large man, easily towering over him. His face face that of a dour man, who seldom saw a smile showing on his thin, pale lips.

“Your Grace,” Benjen greeted and kneeled down.

“Benjen Stark,” he stated end eyed him quietly.”Your brother was a name of honor. He was no friend of mine, but I saw his worth. Your nephew was a rebel and a traitor who tried to steal half my kingdom, but no man can question his courage.”

“My brother is dead,” Benjen Stark replied, ringing with his composure.”Robb as well. The Maester told me.”

“My brother is also dead,” the King replied.”Do you know why I abandoned Dragonstone and sailed to the Wall, Lord Stark?”

“No, your Grace,” he admitted stiffly.”I am also no Lord. I am a man of the Night’s Watch.”

“If not for my Hand, I might not have come at all. Lord Seaworth is a man of humble birth, but he reminded me of my duty when all I could think of was my claim to the Iron Throne. It is here that I will find the foe that I was born to fight.”

Benjen shivered.

“The Others,” Benjen replied.”I saw them too. They are far more terrifying than you can know.”

“So tells me Lady Melisandre,” the King agreed and placed his hands on the wooden table before him.”Yet without the North behind me I have little hope to accomplish this goal. That is why I called for you, my Lord.”

“I am no Lord,” Benjen wanted to correct him again, but the King cut him off.

“If you kneel before me you will be a Lord. I intend to free you from your vow.”

“Your Grace,” he replied, barely able to form a coherent sentence. The idea was absurd.”I swore a vow.”

”Besides, my niece Sansa might still be alive….,” he added, intending to reveal the truth about Rickon, but then he stopped himself.

The King grounded his teeth in displeasure.

”Ah, yes. Lady Lannister. Didn’t they tell you? They married her to the Imp. Do you want the children of the Imp ruling your brother’s home, my Lord?”

“I want to kill every Lannister that comes my way,” he admitted, the rage he has kept suppressed since hearing about his brother’s death, now bursting forward.

“Then kneel to me!” the King repeated.

Benjen swallowed hard, fighting with himself to reveal the truth.”I cannot, your Grace, but you won’t have need of me. Rickon Stark lives. He is my brother’s rightful heir.”

The King’s blue eyes betrayed a hint of surprise. Others might have smiled, but Stannis Baratheon’s face remained frozen.

“How do you know that?” he asked, but when Benjen didn’t answer instantly he continued with the next question.”Where is the boy?”

“He is with the Umbers. I will sent a raven to Last Hearth and command them to bring him here to Castle Black.”

“That would please me,” the King replied coldly, bracing himself on the wooden table before him.”There is another problem.”

“What could that be, your Grace?” he asked as politely as possible, though he wanted to nothing more than to leave. He was tired and weary. Maybe Maester Aemon was right when he told him to rest.

“The Night’s Watch is in need of a new Lord Commander and there is a man among the possible candidates that displeases me,” the King explained.

“Who?”

“Did the old Maester not tell you?” the King remarked in displeasure.”The name of the man is Janos Slynt, a Lannister lickspittle, who is trying to turn the Night’s Watch against my cause. He is our common enemy, so to say.”

“Common enemy?” Benjen asked.”I hold no love for the Lannisters, but once a man takes the Black all his crimes are forgiven.”

“You wouldn’t speak like that if you knew the truth about the man,” the King replied.

“What truth could that be?”

“He was one of the men who betrayed your brother. He was boasting about it among the crowd of supporters he is gathering around him. Ask my loyal knight Ser Massey, he will confirm it to you.”

Benjen gritted his teeth, understanding what the King was trying to do.

“Your Grace, I am not in need of an enemy to consider running for the position of Lord Commander.”

…

Chapter Text

Jon

The day was hot and and the walls of Volantis were glimmering in a dream-like haze. The city itself was a labyrinth of stone buildings, hills and greenery spreading over the mouth of the River Rhoyne.

“Looks pleasant,” Obara remarked as they led they rode down the street.”Father always said that Volantis has the most beautiful women. Nym’s mother was a high noble hailing from the beyond the Black Walls.

“The Black Walls?” Jon asked.

“That is the district reserved for the old nobility. Foreigners are not allowed beyond those Walls,” Obara explained, „but that is not much of a problem for us. I doubt we will find men of the Golden Company in such a place.”

“The Magister wasn't very exact, but a visit to a tavern or a brothel will help us,” Ser Barristan added, „though I wish we took the Dornish guards with us.”

“I don’t trust Magister Illyrio’s men, but I trust my mother’s men to guard Rhaegal. I can’t parade him him around the city either. He would only rouse suspicion. Besides, we can’t know what these sellswords will do if they see the dragon.”

Obara blinked her eyes in confusion.”Isn’t that why we took the dragon with us in the first place? To prove your our legitimacy?”

“Aye,” Jon confirmed, „but first I want to see if this Jon Connington can be trusted.”

This satisfied Obara and they continued their search. They made their way from tavern to tavern, from brothel to brothel, asking about sellswords belonging to the Golden Company and by midday they finally had success.

One of the tavern owners referred them to brothel called “The Black Feather”.

It was located at end of the the western district and thus they had to cross through half the city. By the time they had arrived they were drenched in sweat. While Dorne was dry and hot, Volantis proved humid and wet.

Stepping inside they were greeted by the smell of stale wine, sweat and spice. At every turn they were followed by giggling girls, wearing far too revealing clothing. All of them wore feathers tucked into their braided hair and shielded their faces with fawns made of inky feathers.

The owner sure put a lot of thought into the name, Jon thought glumly as he tried to evade the black-feathered girls. Contrary to him Obara winked at them while Ser Barristan appeared almost stoic.

Jon was glad when they found the owner. He was a man graced with raw leathery skin and dark eyes. He bared his golden teeth to them when he noticed their approach, eying their swords and their garb with great curiosity.

“What can I do for you, my friends?” he asked them in Bastard Valyrian.

“We are in search of men sworn to the Golden Company. Someone informed us that they like to frequent your place,” Jon replied in broken Bastard Valyrian and was relieved when the man gave a confirming nod.

“Aye…Aye,” he confirmed and bobbed his head.”They are here. Do you have business with them, my friends?”

Jon gave him a curt nod.”We do…Would it be a bother to speak with them?”

“No bother for me,” the man replied politely, „but whether it is a bother for them I don’t know. Do you still want to speak with them, friend?”

Jon remained steadfast.”Please lead us to them. We can take care of ourselves.”

The man gave a brief nod, before leading them along a narrow corridor out to a spacious garden and back into another building made of grey stones Then one of the servants pulled a large red door, leading out to another garden with lush green trees and flowers.

There they found pools of hot water and low wooden tables decked with wine and food. Seated in the pools and at the tables were at least several hundred men.

“Captain Strickland…I bring friends who wish to speak to you,” the brothel owner announced their presence to a portly man with a big round head, mild grey eyes and thinning grey hair.

The man’s face lightened with curiosity and eyed Jon, Ser Barristan and then Obara.

Jon dropped his head in greeting.”It is an honor to meet the Captain of the Golden Company. I am Ser Jon Sand and those are my trusted companions. We are in search of a man named of a man named Jon Connington.”

The man blinked and laughed.

“You are from Dorne,” Strickland remarked and smiled.”A knight too…What could a knight from Dorne want from our dour Griff?”

“Griff?” Ser Barristan asked and wrinkled his brows.”Is that what he calls himself these days?”

This earned him a curious glance from another man. He was a white-haired man of dark skin, clad in a feathered cloak of green and orange.

“You seem to know him,” the man remarked and bared his brilliant teeth.”Are you also a knight, old man?”

“I do,” Ser Barristan confirmed,” I am also a knight. If you are in need if proof I would love to make my blade sing for you.”

“I would love to try, but the owner would not like it if we shed blood in this place,” another man added in a jesting tone. He had a pox-scarred face and a hole in the cheek.

“We have no such intentions,” Jon assured him.”We wouldn’t want to deprive the Golden Company of their favorite tavern.”

A smile of amusement crossed over Strickland’s lips.”Aye, it was hard to find this pearl. The other places are full of ugly whores and at one place I even caught lice. Not very pleasant.”

Then he emptied his goblet and put it down on the table.”But to answer our question…our dour Griff doesn’t like such places let alone the sight of whores tittering around him. He is at our camp…several leagues out of this city. If you wish to speak with him you will have to wait till tomorrow. We intend to stay the night and I doubt the sentries would allow you to pass.”

Jon sighed.”Very well, then we will wait and leave with you tomorrow.”

“Now…now, boy!” Strickland winked his hand at Jon.”We are a close-knit group. If you want to see our dour Griff you will have to drink with us…that is our way to sure that you can be trusted.”

Jon nodded his head in understanding.”We will stay if that is what it takes to earn your trust, Captain Strickland.”

Strickland gave a jolly laughter and commanded his men to men to make place for Ser Barristan and Obara. Then he called for the girls to bring more wine while the other men on the table eyed them with curiosity. Especially, Obara received strange looks, given that she was a woman carrying a spear.

“Are you really a wench or are you hiding your cock somewhere under those breeches of yours?” one of the younger men asked rather rudely. He had a tanned face, littered with scars.

Obara leaned forward, her lips pursed.”Do you know what I did to the last lad who called me an ugly wench?”

The young man grinned.”What, ugly wench?”

“I poked my spear up his arse until it came out on the other side,” she replied with a savage grin.”Do you want to find out?”

The boy gave her a lusty smile.”I would love to, ugly wench.”

“Little…!” Obara grumbled, but Jon squeezed her shoulder and flashed the rude young man a warning look.”I would be careful, if I were you. Obara’s spear is sharp.

The young man’s expression darkened, but Jon ignored it and touched his blade.”Do you understand?”

“Now calm yourself, John!” Harry called out while another man patted the young men’s shoulder.

He was a big-bellied hunk of a man and graced with a seamed face of crisscrossed scars.”Do you want to face Griff’s anger once he hears that you insulted his friends?”

The rude young man grumbled and the big-bellied man leaned over, offering them a plate decked with sweets.

“You look hungry, friend,” the man added and flashed a smile at Jon.”Better eat or your blood will start boiling. Happens to me whenever I have to go hungry or when I see a green apple.”

“A green apple?” Ser Barristan asked and gave the man a strange look.

“Ser Frankly’s mother was raped by a Fassoway …that is why he hates green-apples,” John the rude young man from before provided quickly, shouldering his bigger companion.

“Well, then you will be fast friends,” Obara added and leaned on Jon’s shoulder, giving him a side-way glance.”Didn’t you once unhorse that cocky Fossoway…What was his name again? Edwyl…or something.”

“Edwyn,” he corrected her and sipped from his goblet.”He liked reminding me of my “bastard status” and looked much better once he kissed the dirt.”

“Indeed!” the man agreed and showed a row of crooked teeth.”The day I get to kill more of those green-apple cunts will be a happy one.”

“A day that will never come,” the man with the precious feather cloak added rather sourly.

Maybe not too long in the future, Jon wanted to add but now was not the time. Instead he picked a piece of sweet from the plate in front of him and ate it slowly.

“So how come you know our dour Griff, good Sir?” Harry Strickland asked Ser Barristan.

“I know him from his time before the Rebellion,” he replied vaguely, which instantly washed the smile from Strickland's lips.

“Well, then better be careful. Griff doesn’t like speaking about the past…it makes him rather dour,” Harry replied and leaned on the table, giving Jon a strange look.

”What business do you have with our dour Griff?”

“My mother knows him,” he replied, with a subtle smile.”She asked me to seek him out.”

 The sudden silence that followed frightened Jon.

Did I say something wrong?

Especially, the rude young man named John looked at Jon as if he grew a second head.”Are you sure your mother has no cock?”

“Another word and you will lose yours,” Jon replied coldly, but Strickland intervened with calming words.

“John didn’t mean to insult you,” he added and gave Jon a skeptical look, „ but it is hard for me to believe that our Griff ever touched your mother. He doesn’t like women.”

“Ah, no!” Jon stuttered in slight embarrassment.”My mother once served Princess Elia of Dorne. There was never anything between him and my mother.”

Strickland seemed satisfied with the answer.”Ah, that makes more sense, though I still doubt that dour Griff would want to see you. He doesn’t like talking about the past.”

Jon gave him a determined smile.”I want to try anyway.”

Strickland smiled and lifted his goblet.”Well, then better drink up. This is going to be a long night, my friend.”And he was more than true to his words. The drinking continued until the early hours of the morning. Obara made quick friends and soon disappeared with a homely man while Ser Barristan enjoyed talking about his exploits as a knight, though he avoided points that could have revealed his true identity. Jon tired to get more information on Jon Connington or dour Griff as they liked to call him, but they preferred littering him with questions about Dorne. Jon answered as honestly as possible while trying to keep his wits. The wine was strong and he spent half of his time pushing the giggling girls from his lap. This earned him plenty of funny looks, but when Obara explained that he has a woman waiting they started asking him more questions. Jon answered as graciously as possible, but was more than happy when he was finally allowed to sleep.

It was dawn when Ser Barristan woke him. Jon washed himself properly, but couldn’t help but to empty his stomach into the gardens.

Afterwards the old man patted his shoulder and gave him an amused smile.

”Your father never took well too wine,” he remarked and sat down next to him.”Arthur Dayne was always making jokes about it.”

“That was no common wine,” Jon insisted, trying to defend his honor.”That was poison.”

Ser Barristan laughed and patted his shoulder.”You will get used to it.”

…

Ashara

Rhaella was crawling through the green grass, her eyes fixed on a swarm of colorful butterflies flying above her curly silver head. Counting seven moons it was hard to keep her in place. It was good that Doreah was always there trying to keep her from harm.

Now she was kneeling next to her, pulling the little girl into her lap.

“I am afraid what she will do once she can walk,” Doreah remarked with a smile of dismay, as Rhaella was trying to grab for her earrings.

Ashara smiled wryly.”This one will be a handful. I pity you, sweet child. The Princess Daenerys will need ten of yours to keep the girl in reign.”

This made Doreah chuckle.”She will, but by then we will hopefully be in Westeros. Queens have many servants, do they not?”

Ashara nodded her head.”Aye, they do, but the fight to get there will be bloody.”

Doreah nodded her head in understanding.”All wars are bloody.”

“Indeed,” Ashara replied and picked one of the fruits from the bowl place on the table. It has been nearly a moon that Jon and Daenerys left.

She agreed to his request to remain here, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed waiting here in company of the magister. Granted he treated them graciously, but that didn’t mean she trusted him. His forwardness was suspicious and she was still unable to place his motivations. Why does he care who sits upon the Iron Throne?

She also wondered about his informant. He liked to call him his “source” whenever he was giving her bits and pieces of information about home. Whoever it was it has to be a person in a high position.

“Lady Ashara!” the honeyed voice of the magister called out to her. She froze, both startled and annoyed by his sudden appearances. He sometimes disappeared for days, traveling to the city to meet with other merchants and on other days he entertained them with his exotic guests. Once came a lute player from Lys, once a group of mummers from Braavos and on another day a group of naked acrobats from Norvos.

She forced as smile over her lips when the magister was carried into the gardens.

“Magister Illyrio,” she replied sweetly.”Your sudden return is quite a surprise.”

He stroked his beard and revealed his crooked teeth.

“It is a pleasant surprise, is it not?” he asked and winked with his hand at his servants to lower his litter.”Well, my deliver came earlier than expected and thus I returned to inspect it. I am sure you are also interested to meet our new guest from across the Narrow Sea.”

This alarmed Ashara.

”Delivery? Guest?”

“Yes,” the magister confirmed and winked at one of his servant boys.”Please ask the men to bring the delivery.”

Minutes later his servants returned with a wooden box and placed it on the floor while Ashara and Doreah observed everything with quiet anticipation.

Then the box was opened, but nothing happened for a while until a mob of pale blond hair appeared and a child-like figure crawled out of it.

The smell of wine and met her nostrils, but it were his eyes and the face that made her freeze in shock.

This man was no child, but a dwarf.

Yet this man was no common dwarf. The pale blond hair and the strangely-colored eyes told her who he truly was.

“Tyrion Lannister!” it escaped her. The mention of his name seemed to rouse something in the small man and he shifted his attention towards them.

“Indeed,” he confirmed and waddled over to the man.”Tyrion Lannister, also known as the Imp.”

His words were slurred and belonged to a man deep into his cups, but that was not surprise. The man smelled as if he drenched himself in wine.

“Who are you, oh gracious Lady?” he asked, eying her with bleary eyes.

“I am…,” she stuttered, her voice faltering. She expected many things, but that the magister brought the Imp before her was not one of them.

Doreah seemed equally fazed and tightened her grip on Rhaella.

“You are speaking to the Lady Ashara Dayne, my Lord Lannister,” the magister explained quickly as ever.”Princess Daenerys Targaryen calls her a friend.”

It took only the blink of a moment and the man’s face turned into a sober expression. It seemed as if the words of the magister woke him from his intoxication.

Then the dwarf started to laugh. It started as a giggle and soon turned into a full-blown barking laughter until it dissolved into coughing.

“Forgive…,” he said after a while and settled down into a cushioned chair provided by one of the magister’ servants. They also brought him a bowl of fruits, fresh water and hard bread accompanied with cheese.

The dwarf winced at the sight.”I fear my stomach is too unsettled from my long sea travel.”

“I think it was more likely the wine,” Doreah whispered to Ashara and wrinkled her nose at the smell, but the dwarf heard it anyway and gave her a loop-sided smile.

“You are right, my lady,” he replied.”My wine has been my loyal companion on this long travel.”

“I see,” Ashara remarked, trying to hide her hostility.”What urged you to make this long travel here?”

A bitter smile crossed his lips and he swayed in his seat.

“I could ask you the same, my Lady,” he retorted and pursed his lips, „but I think I already know…Prince Doran has been supporting Princess Daenerys all along, hasn’t he? All these plays of loyalty and the betrothal to my niece was just a farce, wasn’t it?”

He has a sharp mind.

She grabbed the handle of her chair and turned to the magister.

“What kind of silly game are you playing?”

The magister seemed unaffected by her sharp words and flashed her an appeasing smile.

“Nothing can be further from the truth, my Lady” the magister added and jerked his head towards the small dwarf.”Lord Lannister here did us a great favor that will help us to aide our plans. I apologize for not telling you earlier, but Tywin Lannister is dead.”

The dwarf gave a hollow laugh.

“Yes, it was me…I killed my own father,” he confirmed.”Now my brother can call myself the Kinslayer while my brother calls himself the Kingslayer. Isn’t that ironic, my Lady?”

“My lord…Why would you murder your Lord Father?” she asked, half curious and half afraid.

“Simple. He wanted to kill me. His own flesh and blood. He wanted to blame Joff’s death on me. I sent a crossbow right through his loins while he was sitting on the privy. Well, he didn’t shit gold in the end, my Lady if you care to know.”

Ashara Dayne buried her fingers into the wooden handle of her chair.

“Joffrey is dead?” she asked after a while of silence, still awestruck by this new development.”And you killed him?”

The dwarf laughed.”I wish I had, but that was the work of someone else, my Lady.”

The magister smiled apologetically.

“I hope you can forgive me for my secrecy, my Lady,” he apologized, „but my source in Westeros was adamant to keep it secret.”

She bit back a nasty comment.

”Your source? Who could that be?”

“Lord Varys, the Spider,” the dwarf provided quickly and laughed.”He sent me here, telling me this is the place where I will find revenge.”

Varys, she repeated and cursed herself for being surprised. Then she turned back to the dwarf.

“Revenge?” she asked expectantly.

The dwarf paled and a murderous expression took hold of his face.

“My cunt of a sister who always dreamed of seeing me die and my liar of a brother,” he stuttered.”Does it really matter...Princess Daenerys and I have the same enemies…,” he continued, but stopped abruptly and vomited out his last meal on the daisies next to his cushioned chair.

…

Chapter Text

Edric

The port of Astapor was not as big as the one in Pentos or Qarth and even less crowded. It was also not silk or spice that was traded here, but slaves.

“Stop your frowning or your face will stay like that forever,” Lady Nym teased him as they led their horses over a large open place the Astapori called the Plaza of Pride.

It was a place meant to sell slaves, but that was no surprise. Everything in this city was geared towards the business of slavery. There was also the Plaza of Punishment through which the fresh slaves were brought into the city. Then there were the numerous fighting pits built in descending rings of stone seats. Edric counted a dozen, all named after their prominent owners residing in the pyramids with their lush terraces.

Hostile looks followed them at every step. The Princess rode her Silver, clad in a pale violet tunic, airy pants, dark boots and a flowing cloak of velvet. Her bloom of silver hair was now nearly reaching to her chin and curling around her oval face. Next to her was Ser Jorah, grim as ever but in much better mood since they have left Pentos.

“I don’t like it here,” Edric told Lady Nym, dressed in orange and yellow.”This whole city smells of blood.”

She laughed, showing her white teeth. At her side she carried her whip and her black hair was kept in a sleek braid falling over her shoulder. In the distance he saw men throwing longing looks at Lady Nym, but that didn’t seem to bother her. On the contrary, she seemed to bask in the attention.

“Stop being so weepy,” she replied with good-natured smile, „or that girl from Lys will never take you to bed.”

Edric blushed.

“I…How do you know?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“Well, you are constantly staring at her like some forlorn puppy. Man up a little and and she will allow you between those silken tights,” she told him and leaned closer.”Or should I help you along once we return to Pentos, my boy?”

“Certainly not!” he threw back.”Never in a thousand years. Get your own girl.”

Lady Nym chuckled.”Ah, what a pity. She is quite pretty…all golden-haired and blue-eyed…a dream,” she added and Edric felt as if his face was burning.

“Stop it!” he demanded, no longer able to endure her teasing.”Please!”

Lady Nym nodded and clucked her tongue.”Oh, calm yourself. You are not the first boy wanting to tumble that girl. Man up and ask her and she will grant it. She seems to like you.”

“Truly? You think so?”

She nodded her head in confirmation.”Truly.”

Lady Nym’s words filled him with happiness, but those pleasant thoughts were soon forgotten when they were brought before the Master Kraznys mo Nakloz, a man owing the biggest training pit of the Unsullied.

Like many nobles in the cities he sported an oiled beard and was of considerable girth, though compared to Magister Illyrio he was almost graceful.

He was accompanied by several servants and flanked by a young girl of dark skin.

The Princess climbed down from her horse and dropped her head in reverence to the man.

“I am grateful for your time,” she told him in the Common Tongue, which confused Edric a little as the Princess was well-versed both in Bastard Valyrian and High Valyrian.

The Masters’ answer came quickly and Edric was surprised how different his High Valyrian sounded. Edric himself learned a little Bastard Valyrian through his time here in the Free Cities, but High Valyrian was far more complex and hard to understand. To his ears the language of the dragonlords was soft and soothing like rushing water, but the man in front of him spoke it with a strange growl-like dialect.

Yes, that has to be the answer. The Princess might not be able to understand this dialect.

The Master seemed recognize this as well and jerked his head towards the young girl at his side.

“The Good Master Kraznys asks you if his Unsullied are not magnificent to behold?” the girl asked the Princess in the Common Tongue, referring to the rows of soldiers presented to them.

The Princess glances over to the Unsullied.”I heard great praise about the Unsullied, but I need to know more before I decide,” she replied in the Common Tongue.

The Master bobbed his head, his large breasts jutting with the movement of his neck as the girl translated the Princess’ words.

Then the Master waved his whip and called a group of Unsullied forward. They stood stiffly at attention, their stony eyes fixed ahead and blind to anything else around them. They wore nothing but white linen clouts wound around their loins and bronze helms topped with a sharpened spike.

Edric couldn’t help but to be impressed. He met knights, sellswords, Dothraki warriors but never men like this. They appeared to him as if carved from stone, their bodies lean and trained through constant hardship.

“They are chosen young, for size and speed and strength,” the young girl explained.”They begin their training at five. Every day they train from dawn to dusk, until they have mastered the short sword, the shield and the spear. The training is most rigorous. Only one boy in three survives it. This is well known and among the Unsullied it is said that on the day they win their spiked cap, the worst is done with, for no duty that will ever fall to them could be as hard as their training,” the young girl explained while the Master continued to bob his head like one of the small dogs highborn ladies liked to keep as their pets.

“These ones have been standing here for day and night, with no food or water. My Master says that they would stand here until the day they drop dead should he command it. Thus great is their courage.”

Ser Jorah seemed pleased, but the Princess’ face was pale and unreadable.

“They are obedient,” the Princess stated.”Sheep are also obedient.”

The young girl quickly translated her words, which washed away the Masters’ smile.

Then he growled his reply at the young translator and waved with his whip.

“My master says that with a word from him these sheep would spill the blood of every known fighter of the Seven Kingdoms,” the girl added, but the Princess ignored her words and went to eye the line of soldiers.

Most of them sported the copper skin and the almond-shaped eyes of the Dothraki and the Lhazareen, but here and there he also spotted the pale skin of men hailing from other places in Essos. Some were tall and some where short, ranging from Edric’s age to their twenties, but all of them wore the same stony expression. The Princess was wrong to call them sheep. Sheep were more varied in their expression than these men.

Yet that wasn’t the scariest about them. They were not only fighters forged into unyielding obedience, but eunuchs.

“Why do you have to cut them?” the Princess asked after a while, her hands folded before her.”Where I come from they say that whole men are stronger than eunuchs.”

“An eunuch who is cut young will never have the brute strength of your Westerosi knights, but the Unsullied have something far better. They have discipline,” the Masters’ young translator explained.

The Princess lifted her head, her purple eyes fixed at the young girl instead of the Master.

“They also say the bravest men know no fear of death,” the Princess added and the girl relayed her words to her Master, who replied in a stream of displeased growls.

“The Unsullied are no men. Death means nothing to them,” the young girl replied and inclined her head towards the Master.

A second later the man turned around and slashed his whip across the cheek of a young boy hardly older than Edric.

Edric was stunned. The boy didn’t even blink as the blood ran down his cheek.

Then the master spoke again and the Unsullied replied something that Edric interpreted as affirmation, but the Princess grabbed the Master’s arm, before he was able to lift his whip once more.

Then she spoke a few pieces in High Valyrian, smooth as the song of a soft harp.

The Master gave her a mocking smile and brushed the Princess’ arm away.

“The Master says that what you saw was not courage, but obedience honed by years of training,” the young translator replied for her Master.

Then the Master moved to the next boy and growled another command.

The Unsullied unsheathed the blade and offered it to the Master, who slid the tip over the boy’s upper body. Blood started to run down his honed muscles like a red river over the scorched earth, yet the man never flinched.

The Princess paled and bit her lips, before demanding and explanation from the translator girl.

“What is he doing?”

The Master laughed and the young translator was quick to relay his answer.

“As you can see…they feel no pain.”

“How is that even possible?” the Princess asked.

“It is called wine of courage,” the slave girl explained again.”They drink it with every meal from the day they are cut and with each passing year they feel less and less pain. It makes them fearless and thus it is impossible to torture them. You may send them to guard your councils and even your bedchamber. No secret will leave their lips.”

The Princess gave a hesitant nod, ringing with her composure.

The Master seemed to bask in her shock and gave her another one of his bright smiles, before continuing to boast about his Unsullied.

“We remove everything that could tempt a man. The Unsullied are the purest creatures on earth. No woman or man could ever tempt them.”

“There are other ways to tempt men, power among them. There are eunuchs who rose to great power without their cocks,” Lady Nym added, smiling down at the young slave girl, who translated her words to the Master.

The master wrinkled his brows and growled back, poking the young translator with her whip.

“The Unsullied are no men. Plunder and rape do not interest them. They own nothing but their weapons. They don’t even have names.”

His words washed the smile from Lady Nym’s lips. The Master grinned in triumph and waved his whip at a small bronze disk placed on the swordbelts of the Unsullied.

“There is his name,” the slave girl translated.”This one’s named Red Flea, but tomorrow it will be another name. The name disks are thrown in an empty cask at duty’s end and each dawn plucked out randomly.”

The Princess swallowed hard.”How can a man remember a new name every day?”

The answer was quick and made Edric’s blood freeze.

“Those who cannot are caned in training along with those who cannot run all day in full pack, scale a mountain in the black of the night or slay an infant,” the slave girl gave her Masters’ boasting words.

The Princess’s mouth twisted at that and even the ever smiling Lady Nym froze.

“Why do they need to slay infants?” the Princess asked in a trembling voice.

“To win his spiked cap an Unsullied have to go to the slave market, find a wailing newborn and kill it before the mother’s eyes. In this way we can weed out the weak ones.”

To her credit the Princess remained calm, though her breathing was labored. Ser Jorah leaned closer and whispered in the Princess’ ears, but she brushed his hand away, before shifting her attention back to the Master.

“I have heard enough. Know that I see their value,” the Princess told the girl, but her words sounded forced, ringing with suppressed anger.

The master bowed his head and a smile of satisfaction crossed his lips.

“How many Unsullied do you wish to buy?” the slave girl inquired for her Master.

“How many do you have to sell?” the Princess asked in return.

“Eight thousand fully trained are available at the present time,” the young translator relayed her Masters’ answer.”Consider quickly, there are many buyers. Only three days ago I showed the same men to a corsair King who wants to acquire them all.”

The Princess nodded her head in understanding.

“You will have receive my answer soon enough, but now we are in need of rest. Our travel here was long and troublesome.”

Thus they returned to their ship. Later they sat down to feast on wine, honeyed milk and fruits, but Edric felt no inclination to touch his food. What he saw today robbed him off his appetite. The Princess was much the same while Lady Nym was sipping from a goblet of wine, her face grimace of disgust.

Then she gave her comment, honest and direct as ever. “The Master is a cunt, that is all I can say.”

Ser Jorah wrinkled his brow in disapproval.”The Master matters not, but you can’t deny that the Unsullied are impressive to behold.”

“They are,” the Princess agreed, but Edric saw her discomfort and her eyes were wet.”But doesn’t it make me like this Master if I use them for my plans?”

Ser Jorah’s face softened, but his words remained hard.

“The high lords of the Seven Kingdoms use the smallfolk for the same purpose. Granted they are not cut and forced to slay infants, but they are also bound to obey their lord. Whether they have a good lord or a bad lord, they die just as brutally.”

…

Benjen

Benjen fastened his cloak and stepped outside, the icy wind biting into his skin. The heavy weight of the Lord Commander’s sword fastened at his belt felt still strange, but becoming Lord Commander was the reason the Three-Eyed Crow sent him here.

And Lord Commander he became. It was the shortest election ever held or so Master Aemon had jested when all was said and done. At first Ser Denys Mallister intended to run himself, but when he heard about Benjen’s intentions he stepped back. Thus only Benjen, Cotter Pyke and the Lannister loyalist Janos Slynt remained. Cotter Pyke received a considerable amount of votes, but not enough to outdo Benjen. Janos Slynt received slightly less votes than Benjen, but the fact that he received this amount of votes still felt like a kick in the balls.

“My Lord,” Kedge Whiteye greeted him when he made his ascent, after making his rounds around the castle. It felt still foreign to him, doing the things Lord Commander Mormont did. Benjen felt more like a ranger, but that was in the past.”

“Greetings to you,” he replied and pulled his cloak tighter.”How was your day?”

“It has been quite a day so far, though the King’s men got lost.”

Benjen wrinkled his brows in confusion.”The King’s men got lost?”

A seldom smile showed on the man’s lips.”Aye, a pair of knights went riding off along the Kingsroad. They were riding in the wrong direction…that is what Dywen told me. I think it were Ser Horpe and Ser Massey. Dywen asked them what they are doing and they said the King sent them out scouting.”

“I understand,” Benjen replied quietly and not happy to hear this. The King was no patient man and those knights were high in the King’s council. His life would only get harder if something bad were to happen to them.

That he was harboring Stannis Baratheon here was dangerous enough.

The Night’s Watch takes no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms, that is what they had lived by since it’s founding, but the danger lying ahead of them was more real than ancient vows. Mance Ryder was still King Stannis’ prisoner, but the majority of his people were still lingering beyond the Wall and an easy prey for the Others.

I need to save them, Benjen knew, but that was easier said than done. The majority of his men would call him mad if he declared such intentions to them and another part would put a dagger into his heart. To keep King Stannis from executing Mance hadn’t been any easier, but it was only temporary.

The King wanted to burn him, but Benjen argued that keeping Mance was necessary if he wanted to rally the Wildlings behind him. Both the King and his Lady Melisandre were displeased, but after Benjen explained his plan even the King agreed with great reluctance.

Calling Rickon here was was part of it, but he also asked the Lord Umbers to bring any men they deem loyal to the Starks. Benjen was no Lord, but allowing King Stannis to march the Wildlings south would only bring him more enemies. Benjen needed to make the Umbers and the other Lords aware that the Wildlings are no longer their enemy. Just thinking about it made him question his sanity, but then the eyes of frost blinked before his eyes and he found fresh courage to move forward.

I will make them understand, he told himself for the thousand time and made his way back to his sleeping quarters. Lord Commander Mormont’s old residence burned was destroyed during the fight for Castle Black and thus he took refuge in the armory where Donal Noye once forged his blades.

There he found dour Edd awaiting him, a steaming cup of mulled wine in his hands.

A smile crossed over his lips when he saw Benjen.

“My Lord, I called for Bedwyck and Janos Slynt, but only Bedwyck is here. Keg told me he saw Janos Slynt going to the baths, getting all pretty. Not that I understand the need for it…no bath will help to change his frog face.

Benjen stifled a laugh.

”I thank you,” he added and stepped inside.

Bedwyck, also named Giant was the the smallest man of the Night’s Watch and barely reaching to his upper body, but nobody could deny his experience.

“I thank you for coming here,” he told the man and dropped his head in greeting.

The man returned the gesture and gave him a curious look.”Why did you call me here, my Lord?”

“To appoint you to your new post. We are in need of more eyes along the Wall and thus I intend to man Icemark. I am giving you the command over it’s intended garrison.”

Surprise showed on the other man’s face.

“Command? Me? I am not sure…,” he began, but Benjen cut him off before he was able to find excuses.

“You have been a ranger for a dozen of years and you survived the Fist of the First Men and then Craster’s Keep. The younger men are looking up to you.”

This made him laugh.”Only children and dwarfs are looking up to me, my Lord. I can’t even read.”

Benjen nodded and braced himself on the forge.

”I intend to acquire new Maesters in time, but for the time being you will have two ravens for urgent massaging and riders for regular reports.”

This seemed to put the man’s mind at rest.

“Well, and how many poor fellows will I be commanding?”

“About twenty men from the Night’s Watch and several men given to us by King Stannis. They are not the best men and none of them will take the black, but the King assured me that they will obey.

The man nodded his head in understanding.

“And you are only manning Icemark or are there to be other castles manned?”

“I intend to garrison all of them,” Benjen replied, "but for the moment it will only be Icemark and Greyguard.”

“And who will be in command of Greyguard?”

“Janos Slynt,” Benjen answered and received stunned looks.”I know what you are thinking, but he was the Commander of the City Watch. He likes boasting about his accomplishments and now he has the chance to prove himself.”

“What you say is true,” Bedwyck replied and made his way to the door, "but I fear you are in for a sore disappointment, my Lord. This one would be better off digging latrines or cutting onions in the kitchen.”

Benjen agreed with him, but Benjen could not allow his feelings to overrule his reason.

Half a day passed until Benjen lost his patience and asked dour Edd and Kegs to help Lord Janos along.

“You called me here, my Lord,” the man stated sourly and crossed his arms in front of him. He looked like a fat sullen child. To think that a man like him had a hand in his brother’s death made it even harder to force a polite word over his lips.

“I did,” Benjen confirmed, "and I am giving you command of Greyguard.”

The man paled.”Greyguard…Greyguard is a ruin.”

“It is,” Benjen confirmed.”The fort is in a sorry state, but a man of your stature will be able to restore it to old glory. Start cutting the trees in the nearby forest or steal stones from the collapsed structures. Only the result matters to me. For this endeavor I will grant you thirty men.”

The man looked at him with wide eyes.

“Do you think me a fool? I know that all this is meant to get rid off me, but I have the protection of Tywin Lannister. He will not be pleased to hear about your meddling with the traitor Stannis Baratheon.”

Benjen braced himself on the armory and gave the man a piercing look.

“Tywin Lannister is far away and doesn’t give an inkling of shit about you,” Benjen gave him the facts.”You say that you have friends, but let me tell you this: I have served the Night’s Watch half my life. I know every man in this castle, both enemies and friends, and most of them want to see you gone. Now pack your belongings and say your farewells. I want you gone by tomorrow morning.”

The man in front of him started to shiver in rage.

“I cannot…I will not go meekly off to freeze in this ruined place. A traitor like you cannot command me.”

Benjen gave him a cold look and quickly unsheathed his blade. It took only the blink of a moment and the sharp tip graced the man’s fat neck.

“My words were meant as a command and not an offer. Refuse or I will cut off your head at once. I killed hundreds of men in my time as a ranger, another fool like you would not mean anything to me. I am not one of the green boys of the City Watch. You will be gone tomorrow you die. It is up to you.”

Then he sheathed the blade and Janos Slynt left him with a mutter of curses.

Dawn came with a bleeding sky. Benjen watched the men practice with the arrows when Janos Slynt rode off with his intended garrison of men. His face was contorted by a scowl, but it seems that keeping his head was more important to him than his pride.

A pity, Benjen thought and let his hand graze over the blade. I wouldn’t have minded taking his head.

Yet getting the man away from Castle Black was a small victory. Now he could receive the Northern Lords without the fear of having a Lannister loyalist watching over his shoulder.

It was a week later when unknown riders arrived at Castle Black.

It was old Mors Umber, with his ruddy face and shaggy beard that grinned down at him from his mighty black horse.

“Benjen Stark!” he exclaimed and climbed from his saddle.”It is good to see you alive and well, my Lord.”

“And I thank you for coming here,” Benjen replied and let his gaze sweep over the rest of his companions

There was Lady Maege Mormont giving him a crinkled smile, a weary Galbart Glover and plump lady Jonelle Cerwyn. There were several others, but what confused him was Rickon’s absence.

Old Mors seemed to sense this and patted his shoulder.

“Don’t fret. I have not forgotten about your plea. Your nephew is safe and we will bring him here in time, but we wanted to make sure that it was really you who wrote us. We believed you dead, my Lord.”

…

Chapter Text

Jon

They departed early in the morning, but it was midday when they reached the camp. It lay beyond a hilly landscape with a thin river curling behind it and disappearing into a forest. It was a compact camp, all orderly and well-defended. A deep ditch was dug around it, with sharpened stakes inside. In the distance Jon spotted two dozen of elephants grazing in the grass. Jon was startled by their might, for it was the first time that he beheld such animals.

“They are beautiful, aren’t they?” Strickland asked, his eyes brimming with love for the great grey beasts. Ser Barristan nodded his head in agreement, but Obara looked skeptical.

“I prefer my horse,” she replied bluntly.”How do you even ride them?”

Strickland clucked his tongue in disapproval.”You know nothing, Lady Sand. These beats are loyal and well-trained. No warhorse in the Seven Kingdoms or the Free Cities can stand against them.”

Obara remained skeptical and was about to answer when Jon cut her off.”They are very impressive.”

The other man smiled happily and led them towards the camp.”Well, you certainly have manners.”

On their way they passed tall battle standards made of a shining golden cloth and beneath them marched the sentries, armed with spears and crossbows.

Strickland explained the situation and they allowed them to continue forward.

Riding through the camp they received looks of curiosity and distrust. Jon tried to appear impassive, Ser Barristan was calm as ever and Obara grinned at them, earning herself a few smiles.

Several of them asked Strickland about “his companions”, but most of them lost their interest after the good-natured Captian explained their purpose here.

At last they arrived at large tent made of a golden cloth and surrounded by a ring of pikes topped with gilded skulls, one larger than the rest and grotesquely malformed. Below it was a second one, not larger than a child’s fist.

Jon didn’t know what to make of it, but Ser Barristan was quick to explain.”That is Maelys the Monstrous and his nameless brother.”

Jon gasped and Strickland nodded his head in confirmation.”Yes, the Last Blackfyre heir. Not a very pleasant sight.”

Yet it wasn’t the gruesome sight before him that made gasp, but the fact that the man who slew this man was standing right beside him. Ser Barristan the Bold.

“Not a pleasant sight,” Jon agreed and Strickland ushered them inside. He offered them wine, but Jon refused. He came to see this Jon Connington and had no intention to waste more precious time.

“As you wish,” Strickland replied.”You will find dour Griff training with the boys on the western edge of the camp near the forest. I will ask Ser Flowers to lead you there.”

Jon dropped his head.”We appreciate your help.”

Thus he and and Ser Barristan set out in company of the big-bellied bastard of the Reach.

“Griff!” he called out when they approached some sort of a sparring place.”Griff! I bring visitors for you!”

Then a man who was observing the young men crossing their blades turned around.

Jon took a deep breath, bracing himself for the meeting. His mother assured him that the man was once loyal to his father, but Jon was also the son of Lyanna Stark.

“What do you want, Flowers?” the man asked in a sour tone, before appraising them with a wary look.”Who are these people?”

Jon Connington was a man around forty or so Jon guessed, clean-shaved and graced with a leathery face. His eyes were deep blue and narrowed in distrust.

“The boy here says that you know his mother…,” Ser Franklyn began to explain, but Ser Barristan stepped forward and pulled down the hood of his brown cloak.

“I am surprised that you forgot my face, Lord Connington.”

Jon saw both recognition and anger flickering over his face.

“Ser Barristan Selmy!” the man exclaimed and unsheathed his blade. Ser Barristan parried the man’s blow as if it was a child’s play, but that was no surprise. Jon got to know Ser Barristan’s quick cuts and slashes himself as they spent most of their travel time with swordplay.

“What is a traitor like you doing here?” Jon Connington snapped at Ser Barristan and lifted his blade for another slash that was again parried.”Did the Usurper send you on his way?”

“The Usurper is dead,” Jon provided in an attempt to lighten the situation, but his hand was resting on the pommel of his sword.”His supposed son rules now. Joffrey Waters, a bastard born between Queen Cersei and her brother Ser Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer.”

Yet Jon Connington ignored his words and his blue eyes remained fixed on Ser Barristan.

“Why the fuck should I care if a bastard rules the Seven Kingdoms?” he asked, his voice dripping with anger.”My King died at the Trident…the King you betrayed!”

“I did,” Ser Barristan agreed, „and I came here to redeem myself.”

Finally, Ser Connington dropped his blade, but the laugh that came out of his mouth sounded both hollow and bitter.

“Redeem yourself?” he asked and inclined his head to look at Jon.”By bringing a Stark here? Why not spit right into my face?”

Jon tried not to blink under the man’s piercing gaze. There was so much anger, bitterness and hatred that it was hard to look at him at all.

“I am Ser Jon Sand,” he replied as calmly as possible.”In the Seven Kingdoms I am known as Eddard Stark’s bastard son, but I have never seen the North. I have spent my whole life in Starfall. Lady Ashara Dayne sends her greetings to you.”

His eyes widened in understanding.

”Then you are her bastard?” he asked, his voice brimming with renewed anger.”I vaguely recall that the Mad King removed from court after they found out that she was carrying a child. It also doesn’t explain why she sent you here to bother me. We were never particularly close nor do I care for a whore who opened her legs to the enemy…,” he continued, but his words died in his mouth, when Jon slashed his blade at him. Jon had been holding back, but that was the last straw.

“She is no whore!” he shouted.”Take it back!”

The other man laughed, blade sliding against blade, bringing forth a ringing sound.

“Why should I?” he asked, his lined lips quirking upwards into a smile.”Eddard Stark was a traitor and your mother was a whore who allowed herself to be touched by his traitor’s seed. I am only stating the truth, boy. If you can’t handle it go back home where you came from and take Ser Barristan with you. The man who killed the last Blackfyre is not welcome here nor is the bastard of a traitor and a whore.”

“Jon…let me-!” Ser Barristan’s voice ringed in his ears, but Jon cut him off.

”Stay where you are. I can handle this myself!”

In the distance Jon heard the laughter of the young men, who were observing the squabble between him and Jon Connington. Jon ignored them and pushed himself away from the other man, before aiming a blow at the man’s right side.

He parried it quickly and again they stood face to face.

“Take your words back and we shall forget about it!” Jon replied, through gritted teeth.

“Why should I take back the truth?” Jon Conntington asked tauntingly.”I also don’t take orders from a traitor’s bastard!”

Jon swung his blade again, making the steel sing. Jon Connington, though older than Jon, was still quick and agile. The barrage of blows that followed he parried each, though Jon heard his labored breath.

He is getting tired, Jon realized, stepped back and brought his blade down on the man’s left side.

And again the swords kissed and parted.

“Not bad for Eddard Stark’s bastard,” the other man remarked tauntingly, probably meant to goad him into a hasty attack, „but it doesn’t change the truth.”

I need to calm myself, Jon told realized. I will have to fight him with his own weapons.

“You call me a bastard and Ser Barristan a traitor, but we are the ones who protected Daenerys Targaryen from death,” he snapped back.”You were hiding here while Viserys Targaryen was selling his sister to a Dothraki horselord. Wouldn’t your King be disappointed in you if he knew?”

In a growl of anger the other man aimed a savage blow towards Jon’s head.

Jon heard Ser Barristan’s distant cry, but he was too engrossed in the dance of blades. Up and down, left and right they met, drawing invisible patterns into the air. The man in front of him was a bitter cunt, but a marvelous fighter, yet not without weakness.

Jon noticed it in their last exchange. Whenever Jon swung his blade from the left the man in front of him trembled under the force of his blows.

A wound, Jon guessed and aimed at the left-side. Again the man before him trembled under the force of his blow, but Jon had no intention to show him mercy. This time he proved much quicker and the other man was barely able to parry the blow.

Now I have you, he thought and kicked the man’s feet.

A growl of pain escaped Jon Connington and with another shove his blade was hurled out of his hand.

Then Jon sheathed his blade and gave the man a sharp look.

“Take it back,” he repeated his request, more calmly.”I defeated you.”

The man eyed him in silence.

“You are not bad, bastard,” he admitted. „but that trick of yours was dirty. No upright knight would act like that.”

“We have a saying in Dorne about Prince Rhaegar,” Jon replied coldly, when he realized that the man had no intention to apologize.”Prince Rhaegar fought valiantly; Prince Rhaegar fought nobly, Prince Rhaegar fought honorably and Prince Rhaegar died. Honor means nothing in death.”

“Who told you that?” Jon Conntington asked, his voice full of distain.

“Prince Oberyn of Dorne. I squired for him,” he replied, trying not to blink under the man’s burning gaze.

“How did a bastard become the squire of the Prince of Dorne?” he asked.”Did your mother…,” he wanted to add, but Ser Barristan cut in and grasped Jon’s shoulder, before they could start another fight.

“Enough of this venomous hatred,” he told the other man.”The boy and I came here to speak with you in peace. I was a traitor, but now I am serving Princess Daenerys Targaryen, who intends to reclaim the Iron Throne from the bastard that occupies it. She also calls three dragons as her own.”

The other man only laughed.

“Has your age robbed you off all your sanity, good Sir?” he asked and laughed.”There haven’t been any dragons in more than a century.”

“He is speaking the truth,” Jon added.”We can show you a dragon, but first we should speak.”

Yet the man remained stubborn.”I don’t care for fairy tales.”

“But what if it is true?” Ser Franklyn added. He had been observing the whole exchange with amusement, but now there was a strange graveness showing on his ugly face.”Remember…the news from the sailors…they spoke of dragons. What would it cost you to listen to the boy? Strickland liked him well enough.”

“Strickland is a bumbling fool,” Jon Connington replied through gritted teeth. Then he sighed and brushed the dirt from his cloak, before turning back to Jon, „but you defeated me, boy. For this feat I will grant you an hour of my time.”

“Aye, an hour is enough for me,” Jon replied calmly. „but we should relocate our talk to a more private place.”

The man gave curt nod.”Very well, let us speak in my tent.”

Then he turned to Ser Franklyn Flowers.”Take care of the boys for me. Their break is over.”

Leaving Ser Franklyn Flowers behind them they followed him to his tent.

Inside Jon Conntington settled down near a makeshift wooden table, littered with letters and a half-burned candle.

“I have no wine or time to offer you,” he added impatiently.”Speak!”

Jon nodded his head and took a deep breath.

”As Ser Barristan told you…Princess Daenerys intends to retake the Iron Throne from Joffrey Waters. And as you are a Captain of the Golden Company and an old friend to her brother we hoped…,” he tried to explain, but the man cut him off.

“…that I might be able to convince the others to help you,” he ended for Jon and braced himself on the table.”

Do you even have enough gold for such an endeavor? You will need more support than our ten-thousand men.”Besides, the support of the Golden Company will not be enough.”

“We have the support of Magister Illyrio of Pentos, Prince Doran Martell and I hope to bring the North to our side” Jon countered and moved closer.”We also have dragons and Daenerys went to recruit the Unsullied.”

“Daenerys?” the man asked, giving him a confused look.”What are you? Her pet? Her lover? Is that why you are telling me fairy tales about dragons?”

Jon gripped the table and forced the answer out of his mouth.”I am nothing of the sort, my Lord. I am the father of her daughter…and her …nephew…Aegon Targaryen, son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. I was born in a tower in Dorne and Lady Ashara Dayne raised me as her bastard.”

 “You dare…,” he began and Jon realized that listening was the last thing he wanted to do.

”You dare to spread such lies…!” he continued in a seething voice, but Ser Barristan stepped forward and offered his support.

”The boy speaks the truth. Lady Ashara protected him all these years to honor Ser Arthur’s sacrifice…,” Ser Barristan tried to explain, but Jon realized that it was no use to argue with this man. Jon Connington’s bitterness was too strong.

“My lord, I thank you for your time, but I am tired of arguing. I came here, because Lady Ashara assured me that you are my father’s loyal friend, but I see now that the years have made you bitter. I am disappointed, but I will return in company of the dragon Rhaegal to prove the legitimacy of my birth. Captain Strickland may decide for himself if he wants to follow me and Daenerys home to Westeros,” Jon told the man and leaned down to meet the other man’s gaze.

Jon didn’t know what brought it on, but the man in front of him was now good shade paler than before.

Then a strange moment of silence followed and Jon Connington rose to his feet, cradling Jon’s face between his hands.

Then as if frozen the man’s hand dropped back to his side.

“My lord,” Jon asked, slightly worried by the paleness of his face.”Are you unwell?”

“I am a fool…,” he stuttered, his face pale like fresh-fallen snow.”I didn’t see…your eyes…you have his eyes.”

Then he covered his face and started to weep.

Jon felt utterly helpless and kneeled down next to him. All the anger was washed away when Jon saw his pain.

It took the other man a moment to compose himself. Then he grabbed Jon’s shoulder, pulling him closer.

“Can you forgive a bitter old fool?” he asked, his voice filled with pain.

Jon swallowed and patted his hand.

“There is nothing to forgive, my Lord.”

Alayne

It was the first time in weeks that Alayne woke without Sweetrobin slung aground her bosom.

With a smile on her lips she slipped out of the soft bedding and made her way to the window panes. The Giant’s Lance was covered in grey clouds and only a few weak sunbeams were glimmering through the surface.

“Are you awake, M’lady?” a soft and familiar voice called from the door. It was Maddy, poking her head into her chambers.

Sansa turned back and smiled.

”I am awake,” she confirmed and made her way over to the looking glass. Looking back at her through the glass was Alayne Stone, the Bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish, but the eyes told another story. They were blue like summer, the eyes of her Lady mother.

Then she forced a smile on her lips and winked at the girl.”Would you help me to braid my hair?”

“Of course, M’lady,” the girl replied and went to work. She brushed her hair thoroughly, but it didn’t help to remove the brown color.

Yet it was quite fitting. She was no longer a highborn daughter, but a bastard. They are not supposed to look that pretty or that is what she believed. Not that Sansa knew any bastards. Her father had a bastard son, but she has never met him. He lives far away in Dorne where bastards are less frowned upon than in the North. Her sister Arya asked their Lord father several times to visit their half-brother, but their Lady mother was always insistent that her trueborn children should be kept away from their bastard brother. Back then Sansa agreed with her Lady mother, but now she was the last Stark…

“Are you perhaps sad, M’Lady?” Maddy asked after a while to break the silence that had settled between them.”You are so quiet today.

Sansa twirled a strand of hair.

”I am a little nervous. My father’s guests are coming today. There is so much to do and I fear that his lordship will make a fuss. I locked my door yesterday I think it will only add to his ill-mood.”

The girl put the brush away, before helping Sansa to put on the dress she prepared yesterday.

“His lordship was indeed moody,” Maddy confirmed, „but the Maester gave him something to drink and he calmed down.”

 “I will thank Gretchel for her kindness,” Sansa replied gently.”Tommorrow I will take care of it myself. I promise.”

“No need M’lady,” Maddy replied meekly, „what happened with Lady Arryn was terrible. It is only understandable that you are in need of rest.”

Sansa swallowed hard, trying to banish away the dark memories fluttering through her mind. In a fit of jealously her Aunt Lysa tried to murder her by pushing her through the Moon door, but Lord Baelish was able to save her in time. Before this day Lord Baelish was a mystery to her, but now she is beginning to see his motivations in a new light.

Only Cat, he had whispered to her Aunt Lysa before pushing her out of the Moon Door, though that didn’t explain everything about Lord Baelish. Her Aunt said a lot more during heir rant, but whenever Sansa dared to ask Lord Baelish about it he told her that her Aunt was mad with grief and thus unable to comprehend what she was talking about.

Brushing those thoughts away she smiled at Maddy.”I thank you for your help, but I need to hurry. My father wants me to receive the Lord Declarants.”

There were six of them. Lord Benedar Belmore, Lord of Strongsong, Symond Templeton, the Knight of Ninestars, Horton Redfort, the Lord of Redfort, Anya Waynwood, the Lady of Ironoaks, Lord Hunter, the Lord of Longbow Hall and Lord Yohn Royce, the highest of them all and Lord of Runestone. He and those six made a pact, vowing to defend Lord Robert and to remove Lord Baelish from his position as Lord Protector of the Vale.

Thus she left the girl behind and made her way down the stone steps to find Lord Baelish. As expected she found him in company of Sweetrobin and the ever diligent Maester Coleman.

A brilliant smile washed over Lord Baelish’s face when he spotted her at the entrance.

“Ah, come here, sweetling!” he called out to her and winked his hand towards her. Shyly she came to his side and allowed him to put a kiss on her cheek.

Sweetling. That was an endearment her true father used for her and Arya. In such moments it felt as if Peytr Baelish was trying to usurp her Lord Father’s position and on other days it felt as if he was trying to be more than that. It was the way he looked at her in those moments that never failed to send a shiver down her spine.

“Now let me look at you,” he added and squeezed her shoulders, eying her from head toe.

Then he smiled again and patted her cheek.”You are pretty as a flower. Just looking at you those unhappy lords will change their mind and march home.”

“I hope so for your sake, Father. I don’t think these unhappy lords will treat you cordially.”

Her Father smiled playfully.”Do no fret about it, sweet child. They will not harm you. I will make sure of it.”

“Now put a smile on your lips and let us meet those unhappy lords,” he added and pulled her along into a smaller solar, where a warm rustling fire was awaiting their guests.

“Why are we receiving the guests here?” she asked.”Wouldn’t the High Hall be more appropriate?”

He laughed.

“Oh, no. Those Lords only need to see me near the high seat of the Arryns and might think I mean to take it for myself. Such lowly born men like me are not supposed to aspire to such soft chairs.”

“But Joffrey gave you Harrenhall…it is a mighty castle,” she countered quietly, folding her hands in front of her.

“A mighty castle indeed, but also a ruin and cursed as well. I head Lady Whent died and so did the other owners…the Lothstons, the Strongs, the Harroways…Harrenhall has killed all of them.

She pondered over his words and a cruel thought crossed her mind.

“Then you should give it away. Maybe a certain Lord Frey?”

He grinned down at her.

“That is a thought to consider. Or better we give it to Queen Cersei, though she is kind enough to send me splendid tapestries.”

She bit her lips when she heard how lightly he used the Queen’s name.

 “She is cruel and she scares me,” she admitted.”She would kill me if she knew I am here.”

“She will not harm you. I will make sure of that and I doubt she will be much of a danger for us. What I am hearing from the capital tells me that the Queen is quite good at removing herself from the game.”

Sansa hoped his words to be true, but with Lord Baelish she wasn’t sure if he was not feeding her half-lies to appease her mind.

Now is not the time, she reminded herself and straightened her dress to meet the guests.

She welcomed them in Lord Robert’s name and served them freshly-baked bread and mulled wine presented in silver cups.

Sansa didn’t know their faces, but their heraldry told her enough. Lord Baelish made sure about that before sending her to this task.

The red castle belonged to Lord Redfort, a short man with a neat grey beard and mild eyes. Lady Anya Waynwood, an elder lady clad in a deep green mantle sported a broken wheel on her cloak. Then there were the six silver bells on a purple background belonging to big-bellied Lord Belmore. After him came Symond Templeton, sporting nine black stars up on a golden cloak and Young Lord Hunter, who only wore a simple brooch giving away his sigil: five fanned silver arrows. The youngest among them sported three ravens on his chests, each clutching a blood-red heart in its talons. It was Ser Lyn Corbray.

At last came Lord Nestor Royce and Lord Yohn Royce, the Lord of Runestone. He was a giant of a man, his hair grey and his face lined with age.

Seeing him again made her anxious. Even now she recalled his visit to Winterfell. How he laughed with her father, how he went hunting and how he trained in the practice yard, defeating Ser Roderik in a mock-fight.

With trembling feet she moved towards him and forced a smile on her lips.”Would you care for a cup of wine, my Lord?”

The man’s grey eyes narrowed at her approach.”Do I know you, girl?”

Yet her tongue felt as if tied into knots.

“The girl is Lord Baelish’s natural daughter,” Lord Nestor Royce explained to his cousin.

This brought a smile to Lyn Corbray’s lips.”It seems Littlefinger’s little finger has been quite busy,” he added wickedly and earned himself amused laughter.

Sansa bit her lips, her cheeks feeling all too warm.

“That is no way to speak in front of a young girl,” Lady Waynwood scolded the knight and graced Sansa with a gentle smile.”Now, tell me. How old are you, my child?”

“I am five and ten and a maiden flowered,” she replied quietly, trying to avoid Lord Royce’s grim grey eyes.

“But not deflowered,” added Lord Hunter. If his words were meant as a joke or not she couldn’t say, but Lyn Corbray appeared quite amused.

“Not yet, but soon ripe for plucking,” Lord Corbray added and earned himself another frown from Lady Waynood.

“I think that is quite enough,” she admonished him and patted Sansa’s shoulder.”Best you quickly take us to your father. The sooner we are done with this the better.”

“Of course,” she confirmed and led them to the solar where Lord Baelish awaited them with a smile and a silver cup of wine in his hand.

“Be welcome, my Lords and you as well, my Lady,” he greeted them and waved his hand at the seats prepared for them at the table. Then he turned to Sansa.

“Would you bring the wine for our honored guests, sweetling?” he asked and she went to retrieve the flagon of wine.

Upon her return she found all of the Lords seated except for Lyn Corbray, who chose to stand beside the crackling hearth. His hands were also grazing over the pommel of his famous sword Lady Forlorn and his subtle smile was directed at Ser Lothor Brune, who stood placed at the entrance of the solar.

“I have been admiring this remarkable declaration of yours,” Lord Baelish remarked and waved a piece of parchment in front of him.”Your Master has a gift for words. I only wish you allowed me to sign this as well, my Lords and Ladies.”

Fat Lord Belmore wrinkled his brows.”You want to sign?

Lord Baelish met his gaze and smiled.

“Why not?” he asked.”I wield a quill as good as any man and no one loves our Lord Robert more than I. As for these false friends and evil counselors mentioned in your letter…I mean to root them all out. Thus let me sign, my Lords and Ladies.”

This brought a moment of silence over the group. Only Lyn Corbryn kept on smiling as if he knew more than he let on.

The Bronze Yohn seemed the most irritated and flashed Lord Baelish a damning look. If looks could kill, Lord Baelish would be dead, she was sure.

“We did not come here for your signature, Lord Baelish,” he replied curtly.”To put it bluntly…We want you gone.”

“Gone?” Petyr Baelish asked and feigned false surprise.”Where would you want me to go, my Lords and Ladies?”

“Harrenhall would be a good place to go, my Lord,” Lord Hunter offered.”The Riverlands stand besieged. Lord Bracken and Lord Blackwood are waging a war against each other while outlaws are pillaging and raping on both sides of the river Trident.

Lord Baelish answered calm as ever.

“Well, I have pressing duties to attend here in the Vale and I doubt Lord Robert would thrive well in such a hostile environment.”

“His lordship will of course remain in the Vale,” Yohn Royce replied gruffly.”I mean to take the boy with me to Runestone and raise him up to be a knight that Jon Arryn can be proud of.”

“Is that so, my Lord?” Lord Baelish asked and glanced at the other people seated the table.”Why not Longbow Hall or Redfort?”

Lady Waynwood sighed.

“Lord Baelish. Spare yourself the time to play us against each other. We all agreed that the boy will be fostered in Runestone. More importantly, the boy will finally know boys his own age.”

Lord Baelish stroked his beard.”I agree, but he will be heart-broken. He took quite a liking to my daughter. He will tell you himself if you ask him. I also intend to provide him with boys his age.”

Lord Baelish’s honeyed words left Yohn Royce unaffected.

“This will not suffice,” the man declared more sharply.”Give us Lord Arryn and I promise you shall leave unmolested to your seat in Harrenhall.”

Sansa was only a girl, but even she understood the sharpened words as an open threat.

Yet Lord Baelish remained poised as ever.”Well, my late wife considered this my proper seat. Did she tell you something different, my Lord?”

“Lord Baelish,” Lady Waynwood added gently, obviously trying to calm the tension.”You are not Lord Arryn’s blood and Lady Lysa was only Lord Arryn’s widow. What right do you have to rule over us?”

“Lady Lysa named me Lord Protector,” Lord Baelish countered almost gently.

“The Lady wasn’t of the Vale herself…” Lord Hunter argued, but Lord Nestor interrupted him.

“I once wished to wed Lady Lysa myself as did others. Had she chosen any one of us, no man among you would dispute his right to be the Lord Protector. Yet it happens that she entrusted her son to Lord Baelish.”

“He was also Lord Arryn’s son,” Yohn Royce insisted with a growl, „he belongs in the Vale.”

“Well, the Eyrie is as much part of the Vale as Runestone, my Lord,” Lord Baelish remarked, his lips pursed into a smile.

 “I have heard enough of your japes, my Lord,” Yohn Royce grumbled.”The boy will come with us. Each of us has a thousand men to dispose of you.”

Lord Baelish stroked his beard, leaning back into his chair.

“Are you threatening with war, my Lord?”

Yohn Royce leaned forward, glowering at Lord Baelish.”We are and we shall have Lord Robert.”

A moment of silence followed, but then Lyn Corbray started to laugh.

”Listen to your squabbling makes me sick. It is useless to speak to Littlefinger. It is only bare steal that will make him understand,” he explained and drew his sword.

Lord Baelish smiled, unaffected by the man’s open threat.

Sansa stepped back into the corner, hiding away from the men.

“I wear no sword, good Sir. Shall I remind you of the guest right,” Lord Baelish said and winked with his empty hands.

Lyn Corbray smiled.”I can see that, but Ser Brune does. I am sure he would gladly offer it to you.”

From her corner she saw Lothor Brune reaching for his sword, but it was Yohn Royce who stopped it before the situation could get out of hand.

“Put that blade away!” he grumbled.”We are no Freys, but guest among these halls.”

“I agree,” Lady Waynwood added in a serious tone.”Put that blade away.”

“You are shaming us all,” Lord Hunter chided, but it was Lord Redfort who rose to his feet and squeezed Ser Corbray’s arm.

“Put Lady Forlon to bed. Your actions would only make it worse.”

Ser Corbray tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade.”I fear I cannot. My lady is thirsty for blood.”

“Then your lady will go thirsty,” The Bronze Yohn insisted and joined Lord Redfort’ side.

Lord Corbary snorted in disgust.

“You should call yourself old women instead of Lord Declarants,” he muttered and stormed out of the solar.

What followed was a heavy silence. They looked embarrassed, but when she saw Lord Baelish’s subtle smile of victory, she knew that this was all part of his game.

Could it be that Lyn Corbray is also part of this mummer’s play,  she wondered as she refilled her father’s goblet.

“You have to forgive us,” Ser Symond Temepleton added quietly.

“Must I?” Lord Baelish asked coldly and sipped from his wine.”You brought him here and he dared to bare his blade after eating from our bread.”

“That was never our intention,” Yohn Royce declared with suppressed anger.

Lord Baelish’s answer was quick and merciless.

“I would be well in my right to arrest you for breaking the guest right as it seems so fashionable these days. Now, I am not a man without honor and thus I am prepared to forget about this incident. Remove your armies from the mountain and leave me in peace. Grant me a year and I will put an end to the misrule.”

“And all we have is your word,” Lord Belmore remarked.”How can we trust you?”

Lord Baelish gave a bitter laugh.”It was not me who brought a man in this halls that was prepared to murder me. I am no soldier, but I am prepared to fend this out with blood. There are other lords in the Vale ready to support me and King’s Landing will aide me as well. If you want war, say the word and the Vale shall bleed with crimson blood.”

Even from her corner she saw the doubt washing over their faces. None of them wanted to fight this out.

“It is not war that we want,” Lady Waynwood said at last and sighed deeply. Then she let her gaze sweep over her companions.

“A year is a fair demand,” she repeated.”Don’t you agree, my Lords?”

Her question was answered with quiet mutters of confirmation, safe for Yohn Royce, who seemed unimpressed by Lord Baelish’s mummers play.

“I like it not, but you will have your year. Use it well. Not all of us are fooled by your false smiles and games,” he declared and left the room.

Later there was a quiet feast and Robert was brought before them to play the Little Lord, though he appeared more like a trained puppy than a boy.

Yohn Royce had left and so did Lyn Cobray, but the others remained and she spent the evening observing how Lord Baelish was spinning his web of lies around them.

What is he whispering to them, she wondered late into the night, but it was only a few days later that she found out more about his future plans when he called Sansa before him and Lady Waynwood.

“Come here, child. Let me look at you,” Lady Waynwood said and Sansa obeyed. Then the Lady’s rough fingers brushed over her cheeks and eyed her closely, before leaning down in her chair.

“I have met Lady Catelyn only once, but I can see the Tully eyes,” she remarked and smiled at Sansa.

“I am…,” Sansa stuttered, but the woman grasped her hand in reassurance.”You don’t have to be afraid, my child. Your secret is safe with me, but there is more I want to know from you.”

Sansa gave a hesitant nod.

“What would you like to know, my Lady?”

“Is it true that the marriage between you and Tyrion Lannister was never consummated?” she asked and Sansa felt her cheeks bloom with heat.

“It is true,” she confirmed with more confidence.”I am still a maid.”

The Lady’s smile showed satisfaction and she turned back to Lord Baelish.

“I believe Lady Sansa’s words, but we will need more proof than that,” she told Lord Baelish, who gave her a knowing smile.

“Proof you will have. I will call a Septon and Septa to inspect Lady Sansa. You may bring your Master as well, to get your own confirmation. Lady Sansa shall have a white vest and her sham marriage to the Imp will be removed.”

Sansa remained quiet, but her mind was reeling with questions.

It was only Lady Waynwood’s touch on her hand that called her back to reality.

“Good,” she replied and nodded her head.”I am prepared to agree to the betrothal between our Harry and Lady Sansa, though nobody can know about her. Our Harry will have to wed Alayne Stone.”

Sansa’s throat felt dry.

“I am…,” she stuttered, but Lord Baelish helped her along.

“Do you understand what Lady Waynwood is offering you?” he asked.”A marriage to the heir of the Vale.”

Sansa nodded and leaned down to kiss the Lady’s hand.

”I thank you,” she replied, still overwhelmed by all this, though she wasn’t sure if the feeling in her stomach was excitement or fear.

…

Chapter Text

Daener ys

The sun was burning down at her as she sat before the Good Master’s of Astapor. They lounged in their high seats, each dressed in bright tokars of lace and silk.

Dany herself chose to wear a dress for this occasion. It was black and red and made of a smooth cloth, embellished with a red thread. It was part of the betrothal gift given to her by Prince Doran Martell.

Dany tried to smile as she listened to the hushed voice's of the Good Masters. She was barely able to understand them from here, but that was not necessary. She saw the greed written all over their faces.

Yet they were not the only ones present at this meeting. Each of them had several slaves, attending to their every need. It was meant to intimidate her, the crownless Queen who only brought three servants with her. There was Lady Nym, poised and calm, Edric who looked almost like a prince in the silken velvet cloak slung around his shoulders and Ser Jorah who appeared as if he was sweltering away in his green surcoat.

Finally, Kraznys turned his attention back to her. As always the young slave girl at his feet translated his words obediently.

“We are prepared to sell. How many do you want and what are you prepared to offer us in return?”

Dany bit her lips, carefully pondering over her next word. She would like to take all of them away from these men, but they only had enough ships for about five-thousand men.

“I am still unsure about the number, but the price will be no problem. I have gold and goods to give to you,” she told them. Magister Illyrio made sure of it, though Dany had no doubt that he will demand something in exchange for his favors.

After the young  girl translated her words the Good Masters started to discuss again while Dany tried to read each their face. All of them looked strangely alike. They were fat men, graced with amber skin, broad noses and dark eyes. All of them were wrapped up in their bright tokars, a garment only permitted for the freeborn men of Astapor.

“I have heard about this Magister. The seacow of Pentos they call him. He is very rich and powerful, though I don’t understand why he would support a little girl. There is not much hope that she will be able to take the Sunset Kingdoms with a few thousand Unsullied. The man is making a bad investment.”

“What does it matter,” another Master added and folded his hand on top of his big fat belly.”I am happy as long as she is prepared to pay.”

“I know why the fat Magister is supporting the whore. She has two dragons,” Kraznys offered in amusement.”She has been trying to hide them from me, but I have my spies all over the city.”

Dany trembled, but tried to keep her composure. She also kept smiling, her face slowly growing numb.

“Two dragons you say?” another one of the Masters asked in disbelief. He was the oldest of the group and named Grazdans.

“Yes, two dragons,” Kraznys confirmed and bared his white teeth.”It is quite a shame that these gracious beasts are meant to die in the whore’s fruitless war. Don’t you think we should save one of these creatures’ from such a bloody fate?”

Dany balled her fists and smiled. This is not good, she thought and was very tempted to reveal the truth.

“I agree,” old Grazdan replied and grinned.”One of the dragons should be our price. I have enough gold in my vaults to buy a thousand slaves, but I doubt there will be another possibility like this for us to acquire dragons.

Kraznys was utterly amused, his belly moving with every bout of laughter.”The whore won’t have much of a choice. Either she accepts or leaves. Have you seen how prideful she is strutting through the city? Her pride will not allow her to leave with empty hands.”

Dany was gritting her teeth, trying to contain her annoyance.

Then they all started to laugh, clapped and agreed to Kraznys' suggestion, which was soon relayed to the slave girl.

“The Master says that you will find no better fighters in all of Essos, but gold will not be enough,” the girl translated obediently.

“What is the price then?” she asked through gritted teeth.”Name it?”

Kraznys smiled victoriously and relayed his answer to the salve girl.

“The Good Masters have heard of your gracious dragons. You may have all the six-thousand fully trained Unsullied in exchange for one of your gracious beasts.”

Dany swallowed hard, her mind reeling. What am I to do? I doubt they are prepared to haggle with her like the merchants on the markets. These men think themselves above me and could throw her out of the city if they wished to do so.

“Is the whore deaf? Why does she not speak?” Kraznys asked, turning to the slave girl at his feet.

“The Master worries about your well-being,” the girl informed her.”He understands that a decision like this is not hastily made and is prepared to grant you a few more days to give your answer…,” she continued, but Kraznys interrupted her.

He bared his teeth and poked the girl with his whip..”Tell her that my offer is more than generous. To prove my words I will gift you to the whore. I saw in our last meeting that she is in dire need of proper servants.”

“My Master hopes for your agreement. To prove his good intentions he wants to give you a gift.”

“A gift?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

Kraznys bobbed his head and the girl answered.”Yes, myself. I am will be a good servant to you. I can speak eleven tongues and if you buy the Unsullied you will have need of me.”

Dany nodded her head, determination blooming inside her. 

My dragons are not meant to serve men like these, she thought and pursed her lips.

“I will gladly take your servant into my service,” she replied and bowed her head, „and you will soon receive my decision.”

Then she took her leave from the Masters, the young slave girl walking beside her as obediently as she did with her Master. She was utterly silent and eyed Dany with great curiosity.

Dany gave her a hesitant smile and offered her hand to the girl. The girl gave her a strange look, but complied.

Then they were led back to the entrance where Lady Nym was awaiting them. She sat perched on her black steed and kept her Silver safe while Dany went to face the Good Masters.

“It is good to see you whole,” Nymeria remarked and eyed the girl with amusement.”It seems that we gained a new group member. How old is this one? Ten? Eleven?”

“This is…,” Dany wanted to introduce the girl, but realized that then that the Kraznys didn’t even tell her the name of the girl.

Slightly embarrassed she asked the girl.

“Forgive me, your name escaped me?”

“The Master didn’t state my name,” the girl corrected her, „but your slave’s name is Missandei.”

Dany frowned.

“I don’t keep slaves. You are free to serve me if you wish, but you may also return home."

The girl bowed her head in understanding.”I will stay.”

“I will soon sail home to Westeros. War will await us there…you might even get killed.”

Again the girl accepted her words with a quiet nod.

“All men must die.”

“All men must die,” Dany agreed and climbed into her saddle, „but hopefully not that soon in the future.”

Then she offered her hand to the girl and lifted her up into the saddle before her. She was small and light like Dany and thus it was no problem for her Silver to carry both of them.

Leading the horse forward she decided to ask the girl a few questions.

“Are these Unsullie truly as fearless as they?”

“My Master…,” she began, but Dany cut her off.”You are free. You may speak your honest thoughts to me. I need to know the truth.”

“The truth?” the girl asked.”I don’t understand?”

Dany sighed and squeezed her hand.”I need to know if the Unsullied are worth their price, but more important for me is to know if they are truly as obedient as your former Master alluded.”

“Obedience is all they know. If you told them not to breathe, they would find that easier than not to obey.”

”That may be, but what would happen if I sold them to someone else or set them free,” Dany added.”Would they dare fighting me or even harm me?”

“If their master commanded it they would. They do not question commands, they only obey,” the girl explained timidly.”They would even fall upon their swords if you asked it of them.”

Dany winced, but that was enough confirmation to her.

“And even that they would do?”

“Yes,” the girl confirmed in a trembling voice.

“What is it?” she asked the girl.”Did I say something wrong?”

The girl looked away.

“This one…,” she stuttered.

“Tell me,” Dany insisted.

The girl lowered her eyes to the ground.”Three of them were once my brothers.”

Dany nodded her head, tears burning in her eyes.

The rest of the way was spent in silence until they reached the ship, but even then she was unable to find a clear thought.

Later she went to feed the dragons and spent the rest of the evening in their company. Jon would be disgusted by these Slave Masters, she knew. Yet that was the way of things or so Ser Jorah told her numerous times.

She knew he meant well, but at times she wished that she never came here.

Well; what is done cannot be undone, she thought with grim determination and watched the rolling waves and the starry sky.

She sat there for a long time and later Ser Jorah came to sit with her.

He looked grim which confirmed to her that Lady Nym told him of the price demanded by the Good Masters.

“Princess, I never expected of them to demand such a high price,” he admitted.

“I didn’t expect it either. I thought the gold would be enough,” she told him and watched Syndor gliding over the night sky, blending out the soft moonlight.”He thinks I am desperate enough for the Unsullied to give him one of my dragons.”

“But you didn’t contradict him, did you?” he asked and sighed.”What will you do?”

She smiled.

“I want him to feel secure. Let him think of me as the foolish girl that I am. Kraznys will rue the day he didn’t take the gold I offered him.”

Ser Jorah blinked.

“I don’t understand…,” he began, but she explained.

“The Masters of Astapor won’t have my dragons. Once the Unsullied are mine I will command them to end the Masters.”

Ser Jorah’s eyes widened.”Princess…there are other Masters. They won’t be able to overlook that fact that you killed their brothers.”

She nodded her head.”Good. I want them to know. I will return here when my dragons are grown and exterminate this godless practice. What use is a crown to me if I don’t make use of it to help people?”

Ser Jorah sighed.”Your people are awaiting you in Westeros,” he began, but Dany cut him off.

“I don’t want to become Queen of Essos,” she assured him, „but I was once my brother’s slave. I cannot forget that. I hope you understand.”

“I do,” he replied and laughed bitterly.”You might think of me a hypocrite, but I do understand. I was a blind fool for selling my people, but too proud to admit my wrongdoing. Yet I can’t let go off my grudge against Eddard Stark.”

She smiled and rose to her feet.”You are serving me in your own way.”

I am the blood of the dragon, she told herself when she entered through the harbor gates. Lady Nym was close to her, her hand resting on her whip. Edric gave her a hesitant smile, his Dothraki bow slung over his shoulder. Ser Jorah looked grim as ever, but their talk gave her courage.

The bloody streets of Astapor were unusually crowded that morning. Everywhere she looked she saw servants and their Masters looking down from their Pyramids and hoping to see her dragon.

Even looking at Syndor made her wince, all chained up as he was. Soon it will be over, she whispered to him. Soon you will be free.

They rode along the curling river called the Worm. It was a wide and slow river, dotted with tiny wooden islands. In the distance she spotted small children hopping among the marble statues. The sight made her long for Pentos where Rhaella was awaiting her in company of Lady Ashara.

As the Plaza of Pride was too small to hold the Unsullied the Masters assembled them at the Plaza of Punishment, located at the city’s main gate.

A fitting place, she thought as she let her gaze sweep over the surroundings. There was a wooden platform where she found the racked, flayed and hanged slaves that proved too rebellious for their own good.

Soon, she told herself to be able to stomach the grizzly sight.

The smell was even worse. It sent her stomach rolling and she had to force herself to turn her attention elsewhere.

Kraznys and his followers were there to greet them as were other well-born Astapori, who were seated under pavilions, sipping wine and nipping on fruits. There at the edge of the plaza she also spotted mounted lancers ready to protect, trying to keep the people in line.

Kraznys observed her with an impatient look. One hand was fiddling with his tokar while the other was holding his whip.

“Here they are,” he announced at last and pointed at the Unsullied, his eyes fixed on Missandei.”Tell here that they are hers if she can pay.”

“She can,” Missandei answered for her.

Dany jerked her head towards Ser Jorah, who led the chained dragon along. Syndor’s struggle pained her heart, but the mummer’s play will soon be over.

Then Ser Jorah handed her the chain. Within seconds Syndor came to life, his head raised, his scarlet and black wings unfurled.

The sight brought a smile to Kraznys' lips.

Dany handed the man the end of the chain who presented her in return with the whip. It was made of black dragonbone and adorned with gold, the golden pommel a woman’s head with pointed ivory teeth.

Exhaling deeply she turned back to the Master.”Is it done? Do they belong to me?”

“It is done,” he replied, yanking on the chain and baring his pearl teeth in laughter.

She was trembling when she climbed back on her horse. Then she tightened the stirrups, before raising the whip above her head.

“You are mine now!” she shouted in a faltering cry that left her breathless.”You heard the Good Master! It is done! It is done!”

Kraznys was not as pleased, yanking and cursing at the dragon.

“He will not come!” he complained at her in High Valyrian.”You lied to me, whore!”

She gave him a trembling smile.”A dragon is not a slave, Good Master. You should have taken the gold I offered you.”

Then she looked up to her shadow-winged beast.”Dracarys!”

Syndor spread his wings and roared, unleashing a sea flames upon the stunned Master. A terrible wail followed and his eyes melted away, rolling down his blackened cheeks. The smell of burned flesh hit her nostrils hard, making her want to gag.

Ignoring the sickening feeling washing over her she shifted her attention to the Unsullied.

There was panic everywhere. Men were shrieking, stumbling and tripping over each other as they tried to flee. Viserion was now also unchained, gliding over the sky next to his brother.

“Unsullied!” one of the Good Master’s cried out.”Take your Spears! Defend us!”

It was old Grazdan, still perched in his high seat held by his slaves. Yet none of the Unsullied made an attempt to move.

He repeated his request several times until Edric’s arrow silenced him. This was enough confirmation to her.

She lifted the whip again and led her horse forward.”Unsullied! Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, capture every other man who wears a tokar, but harm no child or women and strike off the chains off every slave you see.”

Dusk came with a glimmering mixture of red and orange. The air was filled with the smell of death and blood, but the battle was finally over.

The Unsullied had done her bidding and killed the Good Masters, but the others high-born citizens were captured.

“What shall be done with them?” one of the Unsullied asked her. He was one of the leaders or so Ser Jorah explained to her.

“Imprison them,” she replied in High Valyrian, before turning to the growing crowds of freed slaves. Astapor’s slaves were not as numerous as those of Volantis. Dany counted only a few hundred. Most of them were young, female and probably kept as pleasure slaves for the Masters. The others were boys intended to become Unsullied or elder men serving as scribes or as in administrative posts.

“The city and all it's splendors are yours,” she told them.”The Masters are yours as well. Judge them as you see fit.”

“But what shall we do now?” one of the slaves asked. He was an older man, dressed in a finer garb than most of his brothers.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Theos,” the man replied and dropped his head.”I once served Master Grazdan.”

“As I said…make the city yours,” she replied.”Train soldiers if you like, but no more gelding or killing of sucklings. There are other ways to train capable soldiers. There are also other trades open to you.”

“That may be,” the man added, his green eyes taxing her with fear and curiosity,” but the Masters will return to enslave us again. You freed us, but our freedom will be only temporary if we are not able to defend it.”

“I know that,” she returned nervously.”That is why I leave you two-thousand Unsullied. They will rule and protect the city with a council of men chosen by you. Besides, the riches of the city are all yours. They are enough to start a new life far away from the Masters.”

The man’s eyes widened and a sad smile crossed his lips.”Your act is noble, but it means nothing. It is like drop of water in the wide desert.”

His words cut deeply, because Ser Jorah told her the same.

The man’s words only strengthened her determination.

“One day, when my dragons are grown and I have taken the Iron Throne beyond the Narrow Sea I will return here and free all slaves. This I swear.”

...

Benjen

Benjen assembled King Stannis and the Northern Lords in Hardin’s tower. Then he stirred a warm fire in the hearth and asked Edd to bring them wine and candles to lighten up the darkness. Such simple things helped to calm him for the difficult task ahead.

We all have to do our duty whether we like it or not, his brother had told him often enough and Benjen was determined to keep

Brushing his last doubts away he turned back to the King and the Northern lords seated at the round oak table. The candles gave the room an almost homely feeling, but there was a palpable tension reigning between the two parties.

Not that it was much of a surprise to him. His brother may have fought for Robert Baratheon, but Stannis Baratheon was still a southron King and not long ago the North claimed independence. Benjen was sure that most of them considered King Stannis more a threat than a friend.

“My Lords and Ladies, I called you here to speak about the future. The future of the Night’s Watch, the North and Wildlings. Winter is almost upon us and the Boltons still hold Winterfell. They are no friends to the Night’s Watch and will not lift a single finger to help us fight our enemies beyond the Wall. That is why the North needs to be freed from Bolton rule. My nephew Rickon is my brother’s rightful heir and should be Lord of Winterfell as is his birthright,” he explained and took a quick breath, before turning back to the King.”His Grace is prepared to aide us in this endeavor, but he can’t do it alone. He will need all our help.”

Mors Umber was the first one to speak.

“We all agree here that Rickon Stark is the rightful heir to Winterfell, but his brother was not merely a Lord, but a King, thus he should be the rightful heir to the Northern Kingdom,” Mors Umber declared, his eyes fixed at King Stannis.

“Do not misunderstand me, your Grace. I hold no grudge against you and we all helped your brother to his crown, but all our hopes and dreams of peace were shattered when your brother’s false son cut off our liege Lord’s head. When Ned asked us to raise the banners in Rebellion he told us that a Baratheon King will mean a brighter future, but I think we can all agree that he was wrong. Nothing got better. The southron Lords show no respect to us and murdered our King. Tell me, why should we bow down to you, your Grace? What makes you worthier than your brother and his false son?”

Benjen wanted to speak, but the King was faster.

“It was me who defeated the Wildlings and saved the Night’s Watch,” the King replied coldly.”Without me thousands of Wildlings would have crossed the Wall. I had no reason to come here, but I came because my Hand reminded me of my duty to protect my Kingdom from its enemies. What happened at the Red Wedding was a gruesome deed, but it doesn’t change the facts. Your King could have stayed loyal to me, but he chose to crown himself and died for it.”

Benjen grasped the table, his gaze flickering to Mors Umber. The other man’s face was a grimace of anger, his dark eyes burning like coals.

“Rightful King?” Mors Umber asked, his voice ringing with bitterness.”What does that even mean these days? What makes one a rightful King? Once the Seven Kingdoms were seven pieces forged into one by dragon fire. Before this there was no such rightful King and your brother’s dynasty didn’t even last for two decades. Why is it so inconceivable to you that some of us might want to go back to the old ways?”

When Benjen heard the King’s cracking teeth he knew that he had to do something to ease the growing tension.

“Lord Umber, the time to squabble over crowns is over,” Benjen declared.”There are more pressing issues that should concern us. What the King told you is true. The Wildlings nearly crossed the Wall after Mance Ryder, the King-beyond-the Wall managed to under his banner. Yet it was not bloodlust that led them here, but desperation. They are fleeing from an enemy that will not differentiate between North and South, Wildling or non-Wildling,” Benjen explained and looked over to the Lady Melisandre.

Benjen received mystified looks. Lady Cerwyn and Lord Glover were utterly silent. Lady Mormont looked serious. Lord Umber frowned, his eyes flickering from Benjen to the King and then to the smiling Lady Melisandre.

“I don’t understand? What kind of enemy are you speaking of?”

“The true enemy. The Others have returned and the Long Night is almost upon us. The only one able to lead us against the coming darkness is King Stannis.”

Mors Umber gave Maege Mormont a strange look, before searching Benjen’s gaze.

“The Others?” Mors Umber asked, wrinkling his brows in confusion.”Do you believe this nonsense?”

Benjen nodded his head in affirmation.”I do, because I saw them with my own eyes. My brothers did so as well. Believe me when I am telling you this: I would rather fight Wildlings than these creatures. That is why we need to stand united…the Night’s Watch, King Stannis, The North and the Wildlings.”

“The Wildlings?” Lord Glover asked darkly.”You want want us to fight alongside the Wildlings?”

Benjen leaned forward and forced the words out of his words.”I know it sounds mad, we can’t allow them die beyond the Wall. The Others can raise the dead. Wights we call them.”

“Others, wights…” Mors Umber muttered and hammered his fist on the table.”What comes next? Dragons, grumpkins and snarks? I think it is more possible that you hit your head…,” he added, but Maege Mormont silenced him with a sharp word.

“Such words are unworthy of you, Lord Glover. My brother was the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and he also held such beliefs. Do you think my brother mad, my Lord?”

This silenced Mors Umber.

“Say we believe you,” said Lord Glover used the moment to speak.”What will you do to ensure that the Wildlings remain loyal? What will you to do ensure that they don’t rape and burn our lands?”

Benjen took a sip from his goblet before answering.

“I only intend to open the gates to those Wildlings prepared to accept the King’s law. There will be no plundering, burning or rape. They will have to leave their old ways behind and I intend to take child hostages to ensure their loyalty. Every men, woman and child will be put to work. The Night’s Watch has need of every helping hand. The ones unable to fight will be put to training and used to man the deserted castles at the Wall. Those capable to fight will join the King’s men to fight alongside him against our common enemy the Boltons.”

“Now that sounds more reasonable to me,” Maege Mormont remarked and looked over to the still silent Mors Umber.”Don’t you think, my Lord?”

“Reasonable?” Lord Umber asked and grumbled like a disgruntled bear.”Benjen Starks asks me to fight alongside the same men who carried off my daughter. This is madness.”

”Not madness, but desperation,” Benjen countered.”What happened to your daughter is a pity, but your not the only who suffered. I lost nearly my entire family.”

“We all had our losses. My father and brother both perished in the war,” Lady Cerwyn added meekly.”The King lost two brothers…We all suffered and thus we should leave our past grudges behind us. That is why I agree with Benjen Stark’s proposal. I am even prepared to kneel if that is what the King wishes. I only wish to keep my people safe.”

“I agree as well,” Maege Mormont added grimly.”As long as the Boltons are punished for their deeds and Rickon regains his rightful seat as Lord of Winterfell I will be satisfied with my lot. I lost my oldest daughter to the Frey Lords and I don’t want to loose more of my children.”

Then she inclined her head to look at Lord Glover and Lord Umber.”What do you say, my Lords?”

Lord Glover nodded his head.”I agree, but I will only kneel once the Ironborn are driven out of the North.”

“That is a condition I can accept,” King Stannis granted the man.

At last only Mors Umber was left.

“Damn you all!” he muttered. No crown for young Rickon Stark, but Wildlings to steal more of our women. Well, I agree. I do it unwillingly, but I agree. Yet I have one condition.”

Benjen gave the King a sideway glance. His jaw was tight like a bowstring and Benjen saw the disapproval showing in his bottomless blue eyes.”What condition would that be, my Lord?”

“My brother the Greatjon is still a prisoner of the Frey Lords and thus my brother Hother went to swear loyalty to the Boltons. I ask you to pardon my brother for joining the Boltons. This is my condition for you.”

Benjen read displeasure on the King’s face, but reason was stronger than pride.

“Your brother will be pardoned, Lord Umber,” the King confirmed, though Benjen could see that it cost him much effort to accept this condition.

“Forgive me for keeping this from you,” Lord Glover added hesitatingly, “but I spoke to Lord Manderly. He knows of Rickon Stark and his son was also a prisoner of the Frey Lords…he is dead now. He even wed his two granddaughters to Frey Lords, hoping that they would return his son to him, but he only received his bones. He is still upholding his mummer’s play, hoping for the right moment to stab the Boltons in the back. I am sure that he would turn his cloak for you when the time comes.”

Maege Mormont nodded her head in agreement.

”I don’t think he will be pleased to hear about the Wildlings, but I have no doubt that he will fight for Rickon Stark. Even with your niece’s future marriage to Ramsey Bolton…Rickon Stark has the stronger claim.”

“My niece?” he asked and shuddered.”I thought they wed Sansa to the Imp?”

Maege Mormont paled, a look of shame crossing over her face.

“Not Lady Sansa, but your other niece Arya,” Lady Mormont told him and leaned over to squeeze his hand.”I am a fool. How could you know? We only know about it through Lord Manderly. His men took part in retaking Moat Cailin and they confirmed that Ramsey met his bride, a certain Arya Stark.”

Benjen froze and buried his face between his palms.

Damn Roose Bolton, Benjen cursed inwardly. We should have wiped out their cursed house when we had the chance.

“Are you well, my Lord?” asked Lady Cerwyn.

Benjen lifted his head.

”I understand. Rickon has the stronger claim. The Boltons need to go, no matter the cost. It is our only way to survive the Long Night.”

“Benjen Stark speaks true,” Mors Umber grumbled.”We have Boltons to kill.”

Benjen nodded his head, feeling very tired. It felt as if a heavy weight was lifted on his shoulders and threatening to squash.

“First I want to see my nephew. Then I will take care of the Wildlings and then we will fight,” he forced himself to speak.

Forgive me, Ned, he whispered to himself and closed his eyes, Arya’s blurred face dancing before him. Forgive me, Arya.

…

Chapter Text

Jon

Jon swallowed hard before following after Jon Connington. Ser Barristan kept close to his side while Ser Franklyn Flowers was glowering at the old knight as if he was there himself when the Maelys the Monstrous was slain by the old knight’s hands. Inside the tent they found Captain Strickland in company of Obara.

“I heard there was a fight,” the Strickland remarked and put his goblet down.”Is that how you greet the son of an old friend?”

Jon Connington sighed in annoyance and stroked his red beard.

”Lady Ashara Dayne was a mere acquaintance and nothing more,” he explained calmly and looked over to Jon, „but you do not need to worry. We settled our differences.”

Strickland laughed.”I heard you kissed the dust.”

“Lord Connington speaks the truth,” Jon added carefully.”We settled the matter and are now able to speak about the real purpose of our visit.”

Strickland’s smile faded and his amused expression was replaced with a wrinkled frown.

“The real purpose?” he asked and met Jon’s gaze.”What purpose could that be?”

“To reclaim the Iron Throne,” Jon Connington replied calmly.”He offers us a way home.”

Strickland’s face showed a hesitant expression as he regarded Jon.

“How would a Dornish bastard be able to bring us home?”

“Princess Daenerys seeks to retake the Iron Throne from the bastard that occupies it. She has three dragons and the support of Dorne,” Jon explained quickly and glimpsed over to Jon Connigton.

Strickland’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“And you believe him?” Strickland asked.”Even the part with the dragons?”

”I do believe him,” Jon Connington confirmed and jerked his head towards Ser Barristan.”The man over there is no ordinary old man. He is Ser Barristan Selmy, former Kingsguard to King Aerys.”

Strickland looked someone slapped him over the face. His eyes went wide like saucers, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound left his lips for a long time.

Then he started to laugh.”Is that a joke?”

“The boy speaks the truth,” Ser Franklyn Flowers added then, his face contorted into an ugly grimace.”I saw him and Griff fight. The old knight parried Griff’ blows as if it was child’ play.”

Ser Franklyn’s words stilled Strickland’s laughter.

Gone was the amiable smile and exchanged with an expression of utter disbelief.

“Not only that,” Jon Connington added and moved towards the table, „but Jon…he is Prince Rhaegar’s son.”

This was the last straw and Strickland dropped his goblet of wine, the red liquid sprayed over the Myrish carpet beneath his feet.

“I know it sounds mad,” Jon Connington added, bracing himself on the table before Strickland, „but the boy has Rhaegar’s eyes. He is the son of Lady Lyanna.”

“The Stark girl he raped?” asked Strickland and picked the goblet from he floor. Jon couldn’t help but to correct him.

“My mother wasn’t raped. She ran off with my father and wed him in secret. My Uncle Eddard Stark found her dying in a tower in Dorne and asked him to protect my life. He did so by leaving me in care of Lady Ashara Dayne, the sister of Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning. My true name isn’t Jon Sand, but Aegon Targaryen.”

“Aegon Targaryen,” Harry Strickland repeated.”Do you know what you are saying, my boy?”

Jon nodded his head confirmation.

“I understand that you don’t have a reason to believe me,” he admitted and lowered his head, „but it is true. I scarcely believed it myself when Lady Ashara told me the truth. All my life I was Eddard Stark’s bastard son, but it was just another lie. I have no golden hair or purple eyes like the Targaryen’s of old, but I do have a dragon. I can show him to you, if you are in need of proof.”

“Then why didn’t you bring the dragon with you?” Strickland asked.

“I wasn’t sure if I could trust your men,” Jon replied honestly.”There are plenty of people who want to steal them. I am merely cautious.”

Strickland took a deep breath, before giving his answer.

“I believe you,” he said last, his eyes flickering from Jon to Lord Connington.”You would be a fool to lie to my face. Besides, we heard rumors about dragons. Still…I have to be cautious. I am the leader of the Golden Company and responsible for the well-being of my men. You said that Doran Martell supports you. Are there others?”

Jon swallowed and settled down, meeting the man’s dark gaze. He needed to convince the man in front of him. I can’t return with empty hands. Not again.

“Dorne can raise fifty-thousand spears and Princess Daenerys went to acquire and army of Unsullied. Add your ten-thousand men we will have a good basis for an invasion. There are also others who might support us. My Uncle Eddard Stark was murdered by Lannister hands and they hold his daughter captive. They Lords of the North might join our side if we promise them revenge against their enemies. Yet that is not the only kingdom connected to the North. Both the Riverlands and the Vale are friends of the North. They might join in us as well if we are able to prove our strength.”

“Might is not enough for me,” Strickland replied reluctantly.”And Dorne alone is not enough. Even we heard that the Reach stands with the Lannisters. Together they have an army that would rival ours by double numbers.”

“Dorne is the perfect place to start an invasion. Even the lions would be unable to touch us there. Besides, that way we would be able to move up to the Stormlands and then to the capital. I know every castle in the Stormlands.”

“I don’t doubt your abilities, Griff,” Harry Strickland countered, „but that doesn’t mean we will be able to stand against the Lions and the Reach.”

Jon read disapproval on Jon Connigton’s face.

”I think you are afraid,” he taunted Strickland.

“Afraid?” Strickland asked and laughed.”I am not afraid, but merely cautious.“

Then he shifted his attention back to Jon.

“I cannot decide on my own. If you want the Golden Company’s help you will have to convince the other officers to join your cause. Get your dragon I you will get your chance.”

Jon dropped his head in acceptance.”I thank you.”

Strickland gave him a hesitant smile.

”Well, nobody can deny that you know your manners. I don’t think a Prince has ever addressed me in such a polite fashion.”

Prince, Jon thought and couldn’t help but to smile. King. It was absurd.

Jon wanted to leave that very day, but Lord Connington insisted for them to stay until next day. Jon knew why, though the man didn’t voice his thoughts much later when he ushered Jon, Ser Barristan and Obara back into his tent.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he told them and placed each a small cup before them. Then he opened a bottle and poured a transparent liquid into their cups.

”This will help,” he told them and slight smile crossed over his lips. It looked out of place on his weathered face.

Jon brought the cup to his nose while Obara drowned it at once. Then she started to cough violently and nearly dropped from her chair.

Ser Barristan patted her shoulder and flashed Jon Connington an amused glance.

“A grog from Lys,” Jon Connington explained.”The strong kind. It is not meant to be quickly slurred down like cheap ale. I should have warned you, Lady Obara.”

Jon nodded his head and tasted the burning liquid. It warmed against the chill creeping into the tent.

“No need to fret about it,” Jon added and smiled over to Obara.”Obara always had a daring character. She will be fine.”

“Well, I knew your father,” Jon Connington added.”He is quite a daring man.”

“That he is,” Jon added with a knowing smile.”I wish he was here. Everything would be much easier.”

Jon Connington sighed and leaned back in his chair, swirling the cup in his hand.

“Strickland is a cautious fellow, but the majority of the men here are desperate to go home. They will not refuse you if you offer them gold and lands,” Jon Connington explained.

Jon nodded his head in agreement and placed the cup on the table.

“The Westerlands are rich. Gold and lands won’t be a problem if we are able to defeat the Lannisters.”

“The Reach is an even greater price,” Ser Barristan added, his cup untouched, „thought it would be much better to win them to our side. The Tyrells were once Targaryen supporters.”

Jon Connigton laughed.

”The past means nothing. Mace Tyrell is an opportunist and he always dreamed of making his children royalty. He wanted to arrange a betrothal for Princess Rhaenys the moment she plopped out of Princess Elia’s womb. It was a ridiculous demand.”

“It was,” Ser Barristan agreed with rumbling laughter, „but Prince Rhaegar was quick to send him on his way.”

“He did,” Jon Connington added, a strange softness to his words.”Prince Rhaegar was an eccentric man, but he loved the little Princess.”

And yet he left her, Jon thought but didn’t speak his thoughts.

“I see,” Jon replied instead.”Well, won’t know more until we are in Westeros. Last we heard that Margaery Tyrell was betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon.”

Jon Connington frowned at that.

”Well, that is no surprise, but I have an easy solution for your problem. Kill her husband and marry the girl. Give her a crown and Mace Tyrell will be yours.”

“My child won’t be a bastard,” he replied.”Besides, a marriage to Daenerys gives me much more legitimacy than a marriage to the Tyrell girl.”

“All of that is true,” Jon Connington agreed, „but first we have to convince Strickland.”

“We do,” Jon confirmed.

That night Jon dreamed he was a dragon. His wings of green and gold spread wide as he soared over the rolling dark waves beneath him and the sparkling stars above. The moon stood full and there beneath the waves he spotted his prey. Quick like a bird he dove down into the cool depths of the sea. The water tasted fresh and salty, making his eyes bleed, but the squirming living creature between his sharp teeth told him that he accomplished his goal. Satisfied he propelled himself upwards to soar back over the never-ending night night sky. The squirming fish was soon gulped down, but his hunger was only partially sated. He moved on, closer to the land. By then the sun was rising, painting the horizon in pink and orange. Eying the green and brown landscape the smell of fresh prey met his nostrils. There on a small hill was a herd of grazing sheep. Hungry for more he opened his mouth and unleashed a sea of flames upon one of the younger animals. The shrieks made him wince, but his need to sate his empty stomach was bigger. Without a second thought he feasted on the animal’s blackened meat…

“Jon!” Obara’s loud voice roused him out of his slumber. “Wake up!”

“What happened?” he asked, still half asleep, but Obara kept yanking on his shoulder.

“Rhaegal is here,” she informed him quickly, but that was enough to snap him out of his lethargic state.

“But how?” he asked and pulled on his boots, before following after Obara.

And it was true. There was Rhaegal, soaring over the sky, filling the air with the song of dragons.

“Rhaegal!” he called out and the dragon propelled himself downwards.”Rhaegal!”

Carrying him around was now almost impossible. Rhaegal was no now nearly as big as a pony.

“What are you doing here?” he asked him and touched his head.”Did you break out?”

Rhaegal rubbed his head against his hand as if to confirm Jon’s words.

“I think he missed you,” Ser Barristan remarked in amusement while Obara was howled with laughter.

“Gods, I never thought a dragon could be such a baby!”

…

Arya

Arya woke to the taste of blood in her mouth. It was not the first time, but it was becoming more and more of a habit these days. Every night she dreamed of hunting with her dead siblings. Yet this night was different. This night she feasted on human flesh. The flesh of Lannister men, dressed all in gold and crimson. She still heard their cries of pain ringing in her ears. It felt so real, but now she knew that it was only a dream.

Like every morning she woke in her bed, covered by the smooth red bedding that was common in the Happy Port brothel. The realization filled with a heavy sadness.

I am no wolf, she thought and crawled out of her bed, before making her way towards the table where she found a bowl of water. Then she washed her face, feeling the mask upon her skin.

I am not even Arya Stark. I am Diara, a courtesan in training.

Taking a glimpse into the looking glass confirmed the truth. Looking back at her was not the long-faced Arya Horseface, but a full-faced maid from Lys. Her hair was dark as the night and her eyes a silken blue, like the sleeping gown Arya wore every night.

Being here was just another part of her training, but so far she had never tried to be a pretty girl. The pretty girl was always Sansa with her copper hair and blue eyes. Arya was convinced that the Kindly Man men send her here as a punishment for killing Raff the Sweetling, but she doubted he will ever give her the truth. Thus she did her best and tried to learn what Lanna was trying to teach her.

From her she learned to sing, to dance and how to play the lute. On other days the other girl had Arya sit next to her while she entertained the guests. She also instructed her in the art of love, though none of the guests was allowed to touch her. Diara was an unflowered maid and thus a precious good to be protected.

Her maidenhead was meant to be sold for much gold upon after flowering, she knew but brushed those thoughts away. Not that the thought frightened her. She had seen men and women rolling under the covers in Harrenhall and this here was not much different.

“Diara,” a soft voice called out to her through the half-lit room. It was Lanna, smiling down at her from her bed. “It is barely morning. Come back under the covers.”

She was a beautiful girl, all golden-haired and full in built. Yet it were her eyes that made her special and so well-beloved among the customers. One was green like jade and the other black like the starry sky. Some the men even liked to call her the second Shiera Seastar.

Happy to comply Arya slipped back under the warm silken covers. It filled her with a warm memory of her childhood. Rickon always liked crawling into her bed and even Sansa and Bran would sometimes join him. Then Sansa would sing for them or Bran would tell them one of his scary stories.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Lanna asked and brushed through Arya’s hair. Well, it wasn’t Arya’s hair, but that of Diara. It was all black and soft, so very smooth. Arya’s hair was never this beautiful. It was coarse, curled and always untidy.

“Not a nightmare, just a dream,” Arya replied and leaned into her touch. Sometimes she imagined it was her Lady mother or her father.

“Yet I heard you crying out?” Lanna asked.

“I dreamed I was a wolf,” she replied vaguely, knowing that he other girl wouldn’t give in until she received an answer. She was not only beautiful, but also quite stubborn.

Lanna chuckled, starting to weave Arya’s hair into two long braids.

“A wolf?” she asked and smiled gently.”That sounds quite interesting. When I was your age I often dreamed I was a lion.”

Arya frowned at that. She didn’t like lions. The Lannisters murdered her father. Yet she didn’t want to hurt the girl.

“A lion?” Arya asked instead and feigned a smile.”Why that?”

A sad smile crossed over her lips and Arya feared that she ended up hurting her after all.

“I am sorry…,” she made an attempt to apologize, but the girl gave her a calming smile.

“No excuse needed,” she told Arya.”It is only…my mother always told me that my father was a lion of Casterly Rock.”

“A Lannister?” she asked and shuddered. She rubbed her eyes and regarded the girl closer, trying to find a hint of Cersei in the girl’s features. It was only subtle, but it was there. It was the curve of her nose and and her full cheeks that betrayed her heritage more so than her golden hair.

The girl nodded her head, though she seemed a bit startled by Arya’s reaction.

”My mother was a crofter’s daughter and she fell in love with my father when he saved her from a group of men that wanted to harm her. They wed in secret, but then the Lord found out about it and sent my mother away. My mother hardly ever talked about it, but on my darker days I always imagined what it would be like to grow up like a highborn lady.”

Arya Stark grew up like a highborn lady and wanted nothing more than to escape her fate. Now she wanted nothing more than to go back to the days before Robert Baratheon came to Winterfell.

“Are you well?” the Lanna asked then, snapping Arya out of her deep thoughts.”Did I say something wrong?”

Arya nodded her head and forced a smile over her lips.

“I don’t think the life of a highborn girl is that pleasant. I heard they have to learn stitching,” Arya explained with a frown.

“Do you speak from experience?” Lanna asked and Arya froze, forcing herself back into her role.

“My mother was whore and my father the captain of a ship,” she replied quickly, „but I have met highborn ladies on my travels. That is how I know.”

This roused Lanna’s interest only more.

“Travels?” she asked.”Where did you travel to?”

Arya fell into a moment of silence, trying to find a proper answer.

“I have been to Westeros,” she replied vaguely.”The Riverlands and King’s Landing.” Not the North. Never the North.

Lanna grinned from one ear to the other and clapped her hands together.

“King’s Landing,” she repeated.”That is the Capital, right? And the Riverlands…Where is that? My father was from the Westerlands.”

“King’s Landing is the capital, but it is an ugly city. There are too many people and it smells like shit,” Arya replied, shattering the girl’s dream.”The Riverlands are beautiful though, full of flowing rivers and lush green forests. The Westerlands are not far from there, but I have never been there.”

The other girl sighed and leaned her chin on her pulled up knees.”Isn’t that sad? You are barely one and three and you saw half the world. I only know Braavos.”

Arya understood her longing better than she could know, but putting silly dreams into her mind wouldn’t help her.

“I heard the Lord of the Westerlands is of the cruel sort,” Arya explained and squeezed her shoulder.”He would kill you if you came before him, claiming to be a Lannisters.”

Lanna nodded her head in understanding.

”I know. My mother told me so. I asked her to seek out father, but she told me to forget about it. Even on her death bed she refused to give my father’s name.”

Arya remained silent, though she knew the name the girl was longing to hear. Her first thought was the Kingslayer, but only Tyrion Lannister had eyes like her, even though it was hard for her to imagine how an ugly little dwarf like the Imp was able to produce such a beautiful girl like her.

Her mother must have been a true beauty, but that was no surprise. She had been the Sailor’s wife, beloved and admired by many a man in Braavos. At least that is what she heard from the other girls.

Chapter Text

Daenerys

Dany felt relief washing over her when she found Rhaella as well and healthy as she left her. She was much bigger as well, all red-cheeked and babbling on like always.

“I hope she was behaving herself?” Daenerys asked and put a kiss on her curly head.

“Doreah has is barely able to keep up with here these days, but that is no surprise,” Lady Ashara explained and leaned down to place a kiss on Dany’s cheek.”Jon was much the same.”

“Anyway is good to have you back,” Lady Ashara added gently, but her face grew strangely guarded.”Jon has not returned yet, but we have a guest.”

Dany was stunned and tried to hide her apprehension with a smile.

“Sounds interesting,” she replied and found Ser Jorah joining her side, followed by Grey Worm, Edric, Lady Nym and Missandei.

Grey Worm was one of the Unsullied and now their chosen Commander. He was a stocky man and graced with a serious looking face, edging on solemn.

Grey Worm was one of many names once carried by the young man, but most of the men decided to take fixed names after Dany freed them. Among the Unsullied were also several former slaves, most of them young women and a few elder slaves. She hoped the Magister will be able to help her find appropriate positions for them.

“I see we have new companions among us,” Lady Ashara said and eyed Grey Worm and Missandei with a curious look.

Dany was quick to introduce them.

”May I introduce Grey Worm, the Commander of the Unsullied and my young friend here is Missandei. She is a capable translator and speaks eleven tongues.”

Lady Ashara dropped her head in greeting to Grey Worm, before shifting her attention to Missandei. The girl was sweet and kind, but a little bit shy. It was no surprise to Dany, but she still hopes that the young girl will warm up in a different landscape.

“My my, I am barely able to manage with my meager knowledge of Valyrian and you are able to speak eleven tongues…that is quite impressive and at such a young age,” she complimented in Bastard Valyrian and gave Missandei a gentle smile.

Lady Ashara coaxed a seldom smile from the girl’s lips.

“I thank you…,” she replied and bowed her head.”May I know the mistress’ name?”

“This is Lady Ashara Dayne, she hails from the Sunset Kingdom,” Dany explained and jerked her head towards Rhaella.”She is Rhaella’s grandmother…you will meet Jon soon enough.”

“Indeed,” Lady Ashara confirmed.”I am sure Jon will return to us soon.”

She hoped so too, but that didn’t help to banish away the anxious feeling settling in her stomach.

Dany tried to smile.

“Well, I want to meet this surprising guest,” she added, „but first I need to see the Unsullied settled.”

“Don’t fret about it, Princess,” Ser Jorah offered quickly and looked over to Grey Worm.”I and Grey Worm will make sure that everyone is settled properly.”

Dany gve both Ser Jorah and Grey Worm a thankful smile.”I thank you.”

The young man bowed his head and gave a curt reply.”It will be done as you wish.”

Then Ashara pulled her along and led her to the garden located inside a spacious courtyard of the manse. It was there that Viserys greeted Khal Drogo and it was there that the Magister awaited them. He was already lounging in his litter and nipping on grapes presented to him by a young servant boy.

There on a cushioned sat another man, a stranger. At first Dany believe him to be a small child, but then she realized that it was a dwarf. Yet his strangest features were his mismatched eyes. One eye was green as jade and the other black as the night.

“Ah, Princess Daenerys!” the Magister exclaimed and rubbed his hands together.”It is wonderful to have you back. Your actions in Astapor caused quite the racket and we feared that you got hurt in the fighting.”

Dany forced a smile over her lips.”

As you can see…I am well and hale, Magister. Astapor is now a Free City and there are several freed slaves among my entourage. I would be pleased if you found them a proper place and work, though I hope no brothels are among these places. I deserve better after escaping this terrible place.”

The Magister stroked his beard.

“The training of the Unsullied is quite a barbaric practice,” he admitted, though Dany didn’t believe his words. Pentos lost their war against Braavos and were forced to abolish slavery, but that didn’t mean the Magister and the Prince of Pentos refrained from holding slaves. They just called them “servants” instead of slave and pretend that they came freely into their service.

“That is so,” she agreed and shifted her attention to the guest. He had been observing her with sharp eyes while sipping from goblet.

“Lady Ashara informed me that you are Magister Illyrio’s honored guest,” she remarked politely and dropped her head.”I am Princess Daenerys Targaryen.”

The dwarf gave her a twisted smile and dropped his head.

“I am Tyrion Lannister. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he replied and Dany felt as if all air was knocked out of her, her gaze wandering first to Magister Illyrio and then to Lady Ashara.

“I don’t …What is…,” she stuttered, but the dwarf interrupted her.

“What is the son of Tywin Lannister doing here in Pentos?” he asked and smiled.”Well, I think it is best if I make it quick and painless: My nephew Joffrey was poisoned on his wedding to Lady Margaery Tyrell and my Lord Father saw fit to frame me for this deed. I would have lost my ugly little head if it weren’t for the help of Varys, the Master of Spies. He sent me here to offer my help to a worthier ruler than my sadistic nephew.”

His words were tinged with bitterness, but hidden among it was also sadness.

“Worthier ruler?” she asked and sat down on the seat brought by two servant boys. Soon they also brought food, among it fresh fruits and the sweetened tea the Magister liked to drink when the wine was getting indigestible to him.”You just told me that your nephew died. Doesn’t he have a younger brother? Wouldn’t you rather support him over a stranger?”

“You are not wrong,” Tyrion admitted.”I hold great affection for my nephew Tommen and my niece Myrcella, but both of them are out of my reach. Myrcella is in Dorne and Tommen is under my sister’s thrall. He is her puppet if anything else and she is already making use of her new position or that is my conclusion after hearing the recent news from Westeros.”

This roused Dany’s curiosity.

“What news?” she asked and smoothed her hand over Rhaella’s locks. Her grey eyes were wide open, eying a flock of birds flying over the sky.

The Magister was quick to provide an answer.

“It seems the Queen Regent Cersei made enemies both with the Iron Bank and the Faith. Her allegiance with the Tyrells is also slowly breaking apart, despite the rather rushed marriage between Tommen and Lady Margaery Tyrell.”

“Isn’t Tommen a child?” Dany asked and Tyrion gave her a confirming nod.”He is, but that doesn’t matter to a man like Mace Tyrell. He is happy as long as his daughter can call herself a Queen, but it seems that was a bit too much for my sister.”

“How so?” Dany asked and put a grape into her mouth.”Aren’t the Tyrell’s not one of the most powerful families in Westeros? Why would she be displeased about the match between her son and their only daughter?”

Tyrion chuckled.

“You should know that my sister is not the most reasonable person. She separates the world into Lannisters and the “other people”. The Tyrells are only means to an end and nothing more, but it seems they did something to upset her and thus she tried to get rid of Margaery Tyrell.”

“I see,” Dany remarked, her mind reeling with the new information. It was amazing what a few moons could change, but that didn’t mean that they can afford to be careless.”So jealousy it is? How did she try getting rid of Margaery Tyrell?”

“She spread rumors about her lacking virtue and accused her of infidelity with a certain Ser Osney Kettleback. It seems the new High Septon who also calls himself the “High Sparrow” believed my sister and imprisoned the young Queen.”

“I assume nothing of it is true?” Dany inquired.

Tyrion laughed as if she asked a particular funny question.

“What is so funny?” she wanted to know and Tyrion laughed.

“My sister fucked him herself,” Tyrion explained and patted his knee. His face was slightly reddened from amusement, „but that is not even the funniest detail about it. It seems the High Sparrow saw through Cersei’s game and imprisoned her for her own deeds.”

“That is good, isn’t it?” Dany asked after a while and winced at the taste of the sweetened tea.”It will make our task much easier if your sister is surrounded by enemies.”

“I agree,” Tyrion replied and leaned forward, folding his hands before him, „but my Uncle Kevan might yet mend the holes that are showing between the allegiance of the Tyrells and the Lannisters. He is not my father, but he has a reasonable head on his shoulders. Now that Cersei is imprisoned he has free reign and will make use of it. He won’t allow seeing my father’s legacy destroyed.”

“Then we should hurry,” Dany replied in return.”Once Jon returns we will sail for Westeros.”

“I agree with that as well,” Tyrion added and glimpsed over to Magister Illyrio, „but before that I recommend making a short trip to Braavos. It is a beautiful city and home to the Bank of Braavos. I am sure they would be pleased to receive a visit from Daenerys Targaryen. For all your father’s madness, he was always well-liked by them due to his overflowing treasury and his ability to repay his payments on time, though I guess it had more to do with the fact that he had a quite capable Master of Coin.”

Dany didn’t know if is she should be happy about this compliment or not. This was the only positive thing she ever heard about her father.

“That might be,” she replied and still rather skeptical about the proposed idea, „but I have no gold to offer to them. All gold I have will be needed for the coming war.”

A wicked smile crossed over the dwarf’s lips.”You are right, but the Lord of Casterly Rock has gold.”

Dany realized where this was going and smiled.”I assume that is your price for helping me? You want to be Lord of the Westerlands and Casterly Rock?”

“You are very close,” Tyrion countered and grinned, „but I doubt any of my father’s lords would ever accept me. Better would be to name my niece Myrcella as my successor. Why you might ask? Well, let me explain it to you. Firstly, she is a girl and and can thus be married to a Lord loyal to you. Secondly, she is the granddaughter of Tywin Lannister and will thus be accepted as his successor.”

Dany didn’t like the idea, but he was not wrong. Besides, she didn’t know what to do with the girl anyway. She couldn’t imprison her for the rest of her life. That would be cruel and Dany didn’t want to be known by such a name. Yet Tyrion made no mention about his nephew.

“What about your nephew then?” she asked.”What do you have in mind for his future?”

“A male heir is always more dangerous than a girl, but Tommen is too soft for a place like the Night’s Watch. I would recommend keeping him as a hostage until he is old enough to become a Maester. My nephew enjoys learning and I am sure the Citadel will provide him with such knowledge.”

Dany liked the idea, though she didn’t voice it openly.

“Your suggestion is reasonable,” she replied finally understood his intentions.”I assume you intend to become your nieces’ regent and that is how we will acquire this gold to repay the Iron Bank?”

Tyrion’s face darkened and he leaned backwards.

“That is the plan,” he confirmed.”To be honest… I don’t care about Casterly Rock. I only want my revenge. Revenge against my sister and brother.”

Dany noticed his bitterness earlier when he spoke about his sister, but only now was she beginning to understand how deep his hatred went.

“Revenge you will have,” Dany confirmed and lifted her goblet towards the dwarf.”This is something I can promise you.”

Yet there was no smile on his lips, only sadness as he lifted the goblet.

“I am not only asking for revenge for my part, but also for Prince Oberyn’s sake,” he added and Dany froze.

“I don’t understand?” she asked, filled with confusion.

“He died,” Lady Ashara provided quickly, sadness written over his face.”He died fighting against the Mountain.”

Dany looked over to Ashara and then to Lady Nym. Edric had slipped away before, probably to seek out Doreah.

“How did he come to fight the Mountain?” Lady Nym asked, her voice devoid of the usual cockiness.

“I chose trial by combat and he volunteered to fight for me, but died,” Tyrion added and Dany felt as if someone kicked her in the gut.”I regret his death. I truly do, my Lady.”

…

Benjen

Mance Ryder was once one of his brothers, but that was a long time ago. Now he was a deposed King, though he hadn’t change much since Benjen last laid eyes on him. His feature’s were still the same, though hallowed by the lack of food and his hair showed a few more grey strands. He was an oathbreaker and killed many of his brothers, but Benjen was unable to hate him.

“Benjen Stark,” the chained King-Beyond-the-Wall said upon his entrance.”So we meet at last.”

Benjen tried to appear indifferent.

“We meet at last,” he confirmed, „though I am surprised that you are able to remember me.”

A sad smile crossed over Mance’s lined lips.

“Of course I remember you. Last I saw you in Winterfell feasting with your happy family. I heard they are all dead now,” he remarked tauntingly.

 “I don’t understand…,” Benjen began, but Mance was quick to provide him with an answer.

“I dressed up as a singer and took part in the feast held for King Robert. I was there the entire time, watching and observing your kind.”

Benjen gritted his teeth and banished his dark thoughts away.

“You always were a strange fellow,” he replied instead, „but I am not here to exchange stories. I am here because I intend to help your people.”

A bitter laugh escaped Mance.

“Help my people?” he asked and laughed.”You spent years hunting my people like animals. Tormund would cut off your head if you came before him.”

“You are right,” he admitted openly.”I killed your kind…and I regret my actions, but now is not the time to wallow in past enmities. The Others are a danger for us all. My intentions regarding your people are honest, but I need your help. I asked the King to spare you, but I don’t know what he will do with you once he achieved his goal of installing my nephew as Lord of Winterfell.”

Mance Ryder’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You saw them too, didn’t you?” he asked.

“I did,” Benjen confirmed and moved closer.”All I am doing is to prepare for the coming war.”

“The Long Night,” Mance Ryder added in a heavy voice.”The Long Night is almost upon us and I promised my people to lead them through the darkness. Now they are broken and splintered again and their only way south is to kneel to this King Stannis…a man I don’t trust and don’t like.”

“I don’t like him either, but he is the only one able to retake Winterfell from the Boltons…the only one able to return my nephew back to his rightful place as Lord of Winterfell.”

“And you think he will stop at that?” Mance asked.”If you bind yourself to this man you will be fighting his wars forever, Benjen Stark.”

Benjen wanted to speak out against him, but it was the truth. King Stannis may have told him that fighting against the Others was his duty, but then he also considered himself the rightful King of the Seven Kindoms.

He will expect the Northern Lords to fight for him, but Benjen doubted that they will agree to bring their armies south now that winter is almost upon them.

I am using him just like he is using me, Benjen knew but brushed those thoughts away.

“I know,” he confirmed to Mance Ryder.”And yet I have need of his help and yours. I ask you again…How can I help your people to survive?”

”Very well, you saved my life and I am not an ungrateful man. I will help you. Send Val to me. I will explain your plan to her and she will convince Tormund to come to the Wall, but there is a condition.”

“A condition?” Benjen asked and wrinkled his brow.”Name it.”

“I want to see my son,” he demanded and Benjen knew it will be hard to convince the King, but it was a reasonable demand.

“I will speak to the King,” Benjen confirmed then, „and you will speak to Val.”

“Do we have a deal?” he asked and offered his hand to the chained man.

“We have a deal,” Benjen replied and shook his hand. His grip was strong and firm, but Benjen still distrusted him. The old Benjen would have never defended an oathbreaker.

Thus he left Mance Ryder behind him and went to settle his next task. Maester Aemon was an old man and the Night’s Watch in dire need of replacements. Samwell Tarly was the perfect choice for this task, but he was sure that the boy will refuse his wish. According to the boy his father once threatened him with death if he dared to speak again about becoming a Maester.

As expected he found the boy in company of Maester Aemon. He was leaning over a table and squashing herbs with a pestle. His head was red and his breath puffy from the exhaustion. The old Maester seemed amused by this and smiled.

“It seems we have a visitor,” Maester Aemon remarked, his voice rough like cracked paper.

Benjen couldn’t help but to smile.”It is true. It is me, Benjen Stark.”

“Oh,” Sam exclaimed and looked up, giving him a smile.”I didn’t hear you, Lord Commander.”

“I can see that you are occupied,” Benjen remarked, „but there is an important matter that needs to be settled.”

“Important matter?” the boy asked and put the pestle away.

Benjen nodded his head in confirmation.

”It is a matter that concerns both of you. I want you and Maester Aemon to go to the Citadel. The Night’s Watch has need of a potential successor to the post of Maester….I want you to be this successor, Samwell Tarly.”

The boy paled, his mouth opening and closing, but he remained utterly silent.

“I can’t …,” he stuttered after a while and trembled visibly.”My Lord father… he won’t allow it.”

“Your Lord Father doesn’t matter,” Benjen insisted firmly and pulled a hand-written letter from his vest.”This is my hand-written order. I am the Lord Commander and you are a man of the Night’s Watch and thus under my command. Your Father gave up any hold he had over you when he sent you here.”

Yet that didn’t seem to ease the boy’s fear.

“Blood…blood makes me sick,” he explained, but Maester Aemon patted his shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile.

“You will master this as well, my boy,” he told him.”We all have to do our duty. Do you understand?”

Sam’s gaze flickered from Benjen to Maester Aemon.

“I understand,” he replied timidly and dropped his head.”What about Gilly and her babe?”

Benjen smiled warmly.”Gilly and her babe will go with you. I can promise you that.”

Sam’s eyes widened surpise.

“And what of Mance’s son?” he asked.”Who will feed him if Gilly is gone?”

“He will be taken care off. I found a replacement from Mole’s Town.”

Sam nodded his head.

“When will we leave?” Sam asked and inclined his head towards Maester Aemon.

“In a few days from now,” Benjen told him.”I will make all the necessary preparations.”

…

Chapter Text

Alayne

The last days of autumn graced them with a blue sky and pleasant sunshine. It was the perfect day to celebrate a tourney or so Sansa Stark would have once thought, but she was now Alayne Stone, the bastard daughter of Lord Protector of the Vale and promised to wed Harrold Hardyng, the heir of the Vale.

A moon ago she was inspected by a Septon; a Septa and Lady Waynwood’s Maester who confirmed her maidenhood intact. At first it was a relief to her that she will no be bound to Tyrion Lannister forever, but now she felt new fears stirring up in her heart. Sansa Stark once dreamed to wed a Prince and to be a Queen, but all those dreams turned to dust when Joffrey showed his real face to the world. All his smiles and vows were nothing more than lies. How could she ever trust another man’s smile again?

She met Harrold Hardyng days ago when he arrived in company of his guardian Lady Anya Waynwood and her grandson Ser Ronald Waynwood. He was a handsome young man and looked every inch a young-lord-in-waiting: straight as a lance, clean-limbed and muscled. Even his straw-blond hair, blue eyes and dimpled smile were pleasant too behold, but these attributes of beauty meant nothing. Joffrey was very beautiful, but he turned out to be a monster.

Harrold Hardyng had no manners, but he was no monster. This Sansa knew after dancing with him on the first night of the tourney, though she did no forget his insult from their first meeting.

Make him yours, Lord Baelish had told her afterwards and she tried her best. She smiled and danced with Harrold, promising him to be the only spice he needs. It was a silly word-play in hindsight, but Alayne Stone is a silly girl who was dizzy on the sweet wine.

And it worked, but Alayne felt no satisfaction about her accomplishment after observing Lord Baelish’s reaction. He was exceptionally happy and made allusions that made her skin crawl. It was not strange for him to kiss her on the cheek, but his constant wish for closeness was becoming uncomfortable to her. Sansa Stark’s father often kissed her cheek or hugged her, but never once did he touch her like Lord Baelish.

He loves me, she knew. He loves me, because he loved my lady mother. He thinks I have her hair, her eyes, her nose, even her neck. He never failed to remind her about it.

His happiness was also the reason she didn’t trust his intentions regarding Harrold Hardyng. He may allow her to wed him and to give him a few heirs, but then he will have to die like Joffrey and she will be forever his.

Yet he was the only one who helped her.

He saved me, she told herself. He saved me from Joffrey and the Queen.

“M’Lady,” Gretchel’s distant voice rang in her ears, but she didn’t wish to leave her save harbor there perched next to the window with the curtains pulled around her.

Outside she saw the trees swaying in the wind. The trees helped to calm her reeling mind and filled her with comfort. It was a feeling of warmth she thought long lost. It was the smell of wood, the blurry memory of her father as he sat beneath the great weirwood of Winterfell, Bran’s laughter as he climbed up a wall, Arya rolling in the snow with Nymeria, her Lady mother’s soft smile, Rickon asking her to sing for him…

“M’Lady!” Gretchel’s distant voice grew louder and finally managed to pull her out of her daydreams.”Lord Baelish demands your presence. The finals are beginning.”

“I am coming,” Alayne Stone replied and pulled the curtains aside. She was already dressed, all prim and proper as Lord Baelish expected of her. Her blue dressed was made of the finest silk and trimmed with white samite. Around her neck she wore a necklace of white pearls and her dark-brown hair was braided in a net of glittering diamonds. She wanted to add flowers, but Lord Baelish told her that there is only one crown of flowers meant to grace her head. The delicate crown of white flowers meant only for the Queen of Love and Beauty.

Lord Baelish is convinced that Harrold Hardyng will crown her today, but Alayne Stone harbored doubts. Harrold Hardyng is a proud man and she gave her favor to Ser Creighton Redfort, one of Lord Hardyng’s rivals. They once wooed the same Lady, Randa Royce had told her but that was not much of a surprise to Alayne. Harrold Hardyng was a young man who enjoyed the company of pretty girls and had two bastard daughters of his own, though that meant nothing to a bastard like Alayne Stone.

Accompanied by Gretchel she made her way to the solar where Lord Baelish was awaiting her in company of Lord Nestor Royce and young Lord Arryn, who was carried by one of the guards. The boy looked worse than usual, his face puffy and his red hair thin like spindles.

“Beautiful,” Lord Baelish cooed after as laid eyes on her appearance.”You are the maiden reborn, sweetling. Don’t you agree, my Lord Royce?”

The elderly man nodded his head and smiled.”Oh, yes. The maiden reborn.”

Alayne Stone lowered her head and dropped a curtsy.”I thank you for our kind words, my Lord.”

A small smile passed over his lined lips and Alayne knew that he approved of her meekness.”You are welcome, my Lady.”

“Indeed,” Lord Baelish added and fluttered to her side, offering his arm to her.”Welcome to smile. Please show us more of your pretty smile. Today is a great day. Young Lord Arryn’s Winged Knights will be named today.”

Alayne forced a smile over her lips and took his arm.

“A great day,” she repeated obediently.”Shall we join the others, father?”

“Of course,” he replied and placed a kiss on her cheek, before leading her down the gallery to join the other guests. There were hundreds of them, hailing from all over the Vale to see their young men ride in the tourney.

As Lord Baelish’s daughter she was seated next to Sweetrobin while Lord Baelish and Lord Nestor were seated to his left, whispering to each other as they watched the other Lords and ladies taking their seats on the balustrade of seats.

Soon Randa Royce joined. She carried a brilliant smile and wore shock of red silk flowing around her plump body that was every young man’s dream.

“You are radiant, Alayne,” she declared with another smile and placed a kiss on her cheek, before settling down next to her. Contrary to Alayne she gave her favor to Ser Ronald Waynwood another favorite.

“That is kind of you to say,” she replied politely.”I am also thankful to you for advising me to honor Ser Creighton with my favor. Ser Harrold seems most eager to fight him.”

Randa giggled.

”Indeed,” she agreed and clapped her hands together.”It seems you enchanted him.”

Alayne Stone smiled, but she she also heard the hint of envy ringing in Randa’s voice.

She wants him for herself, Lord Baelish had told her not long ago, but she still valued the fragile friendship formed with the young woman.

 “I think you are overdramatic,” She replied shyly and jerked her head forward, where the first opponents of the quarter finals were preparing for their first tilt.

It was Ser Marwyn Belmore riding against Ser Creighton Redfort, but the match proved quite boring. Ser Belmore was unhorsed in the first round. In the second match Ser Ronald Waynwood was riding against a young knight from House Grafton, who was unhorsed in the third round. The third match didn’t last much longer and held as little interest to her as the competitors. Both were unknown knights in service of Lady Waynwood and Ser Symon Tempelton.

At last Harrold Hardying rode against Ser Corbrey, the man who once threatened to kill Lord Baelish with Lady Forlorn. Yet their match proved to be the most exciting of the day. Six broken lances were needed until Ser Harrold unhorsed the cocky knight and earned himself entry to the semi-finals.

The young Sansa Stark would have watched these proceedings with moist eyes, but Alayne Stone wanted nothing more than to return to her quiet spot behind the curtains, watching the trees and dreaming of home, of Winterfell.

The semi-finals passed in a blur and both Ser Harrold and Ser Creighton won their matches. Yet Alayne didn’t believe in Ser Harrold’s victory until he unhorsed Ser Creighton in the third round.

As if in a dream he rode before her and placed the white crown of roses into her lap. For a brief moment she contemplated to return the crown to him, but longing for home was too strong. She smiled sweetly and placed the crown on her head, the cheers of the crowd nothing more than a distant echo.

All she saw was her home, the great grey walls of Winterfell rising before her very eyes, beckoning to return.

Soon I will go home, she told herself while the rest of the evening passed in a blur. She danced with several lords, sipped from the sweetened wine and laughed with Randa. It was so easy now, to play this stranger’s role while Sansa Stark was watching herself from the distance.

At last Lord Baelish called her to his side, his smile brighter than the candle’s lightening the hall.

“How do you feel, sweetling?” he asked.”Are you happy?”

“I am very happy, father,” she replied sweetly and touched his hand.”Why did you call for me?”

Lord Baelish touched her crown and jerked his head towards the new Brotherhood of Winged Knights celebrating their great victory. Ser Harrold was among the merry group, his eyes watching her from the distance.

“Ser Harrold asked for your presence, sweetling,” he explained.”A walk out in the gardens would be appropriate, don’t you think?”

“Of course, father,” she replied and waited as Lord Baelish called Lord Hardyng to their table.

He carried a strange smile on his lips and offered his arm to her.

“Shall we go, my Queen?”

Alayne took his arms and tried keep her composure as they stepped out into the gardens. In the distance she heard the laughter of the guests, but around them she only heard the whispering of the trees and the sound of the rushing of the water belonging to a small brook.

Ser Harrold talked and Alayne listened, but with time she only heard the wind howling through the woods and forgot about the stranger walking at her side.

At last she decided it was enough. She she did her duty and Lord Baelish had no right to complain, but Ser Harrold had other ideas.

“It is getting quite late,” She told him with a hesitant smile.”I think we should return.”

“Well, I think it is quite early,” he countered.

She swallowed hard and tried to smile.

“It is quite early,” she agreed hesitatingly and flinched when he moved closer, his warm breath gracing her cheeks.

“I should go back…,” she stuttered, but his lips stifled her words of protest. His hands enclosed her, one resting on her shoulder and the other wandering to her bosom. She struggled, pushing him away, but his grip was too strong, his lips too forceful.

Panic overwhelmed her and she did the only thing that came to her mind. She clawed her fingers into his face until he finally let go of her.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded to know and smoothed his hands over his marred cheeks.”I have never met such a squeamish bastard.”

She didn’t know what kind madness overcame her in that moment, but she slapped him straight on the face.

She saw the anger simmering beneath his blue eyes and knew that she committed a terrible mistake. Then he grasped her hand and twisted violently.

“You dare to hurt me…insolent bastard!” he shouted and twisted harder, but her fear was stronger than reason and pain.

“I am no bastard!” it escaped her then, the words leaving her mouth against her will.”It is a lie.”

Finally, he dropped her hand.

”What did you say?”

She was trembling, but felt oddly free. It felt as if she shed the skin of Alayne Stone and was again Sansa Stark, the trueborn daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully.

She straightened herself and met his gaze.

“You heard right. I am sick and tired of this mummer’s game. I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell, trueborn daughter of Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Tully, the rightful heir to the North.”

He started at her, his blue eyes filled with disbelief.

“You dare…to spread such lies?” he asked her in a warning tone, but she didn’t flinch away.

“I am telling you the truth,” she told him and wetted her fingers, before running them through her hair. Slowly the color was coming off, revealing her copper hair.

“Sansa Stark has her mother’s hair. Red copper hair and blue eyes,” she told him and trembled, a strange sort of excitement washing over her.”That is the reason why you can’t have my maidenhead before our wedding. You see it is all part of Lord Baelish’s plan.”

“His plan?” he asked, his voice ringing with palpable hatred.”Well, Alayne…or Sansa… It seems Lord Baelish lied to you, because he told me you wouldn’t mind if I gave you a tumble before our wedding.”

She froze, more in shock than in fear.

“What?” she asked and shuddered.

”It can’t be…Lord Baelish would never…,” she stuttered, but then she understood.

Amidst the pain clarity dawned on her.

He wants to have me. That is why he sent me like a pig to slaughter. He hopes that I will come running to him, asking for his protection.

Gods, I was such a fool, she thought and felt utterly ashamed. And I played along.

“Well, it seems he did,” Ser Harrold remarked, his voice ringing with anger as he stepped towards her.”And I played along like a fool. Tell me about this plan of his?”

“He played us both, my Lord,” she tried to explain and backed away.”I don’t know the details of his plan…only that you are supposed to marry me…and become the Lord of the Vale…to help me retake the North from the Bolton’s….and…and,” she stuttered, her words failing her.

“Tell me!” Harrold demanded to know.”I need to know!”

“I don’t know!” she told him, tears running down her cheek.”But knowing Lord Baelish he probably intends to kill you to take me for himself…that is what he always wanted.”

“I don’t care what he wants!” he shouted.”Next time I see him I will cut him apart.”

“No, you can’t!” it escaped her.”He can’t know about this…He can’t know that I told you.”

“Then pray tell me what I shall do?” he asked, towering above her.”Allow him to continue with his mummer’s game?”

“No,” Sansa said quietly.”What if we turned his mummer’s game against him?”

Lord Hardyng’s demeanor calmed then, his blue eyes filled with mistrust.

“What do you have in mind?”

…

Jon

Jon followed after Lord Connington into the tent where Strickland assembled all his high officers. Lord Connington tried to instill their names and positions into him, but recalling all of it was quite difficult.

Some of them have already seen his dragon, but he doubted that they knew what to make of Rhaegal’s appearance. Some had stared in awe while others gave him worried looks. Among them was Strickland who asked him to keep his dragon away from the tents.

This task proved easier than expected. Rhaegal was now sleeping outside of the camp after feasting on a roasted lamp.

“Now tell, Griff,” Black Balaq addressed Lord Connington. He was a dark-skinned Summer Islander and in command of the archers.”What the fuck is a dragon doing in our camp?”

“The dragon’s name is Rhaegal,” Jon provided quickly.”His obeys me and you don’t have to fear his presence.”

Jon’s answer was met with mutters and whispers while Black Balaq flashed Jon an unbelieving look.

“How did a bastard knight from Dorne acquire a fucking dragon?”

Jon swallowed hard and let his gaze sweep over the assembled group of men.

“The truth is,” Jon began and took a deep breath before continuing.”I am no Dornish bastard. I told you that Lady Ashara Dayne is my mother, but that was a lie made up to protect me from Robert Baratheon’s swords. In truth I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and his second wife Lyanna Stark. The tale about her capture was another lie. Rhaegar Targaryen never raped and murdered her. She married him willingly and gave birth to me in a tower in Dorne a few moons after the Sack of King’s Landing. My Uncle Eddard Stark found her dying and she asked of him to protect me. Thus he left me in custody of Lady Ashara Dayne, sister to Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. My true name isn’t Jon Sand…but Aegon Targaryen.”

A heavy silence followed until Black Balaq decided to speak again.

“Did you know about that, Captain?”

“Not for long,” he explained in a heavy voice.”The boy has told me only recently. I told him to bring his dragon if he wants to convince me of his dragon blood.”

“Well, he doesn’t look much like a dragon,” Gorys Edoryen, the paymaster remarked glumly.”The presence of the dragon certainly helps as he lacks both the silver hair and purple eyes.”

“He may have his mother’s coloring, but he has Prince Rhaegar’s eyes,” Lord Connington added, his voice ringing with displeasure.

“Griff speaks true,” Lysono Maar agreed and brushed his white-gold hair over his shoulder. He hailed from Lys and was the spymaster.”Go to Lys and you will find a hundred “hidden Targaryens” in my hometown alone.”

Then the young man pursed his full lips and glanced over to Jon, appraising him from head to toe.

“And this dragon is truly yours?” he asked, his pale lilac eyes glinting with curiosity.”We heard tales about dragons being hatched by Princess Daenerys Targaryen, but not a word about you. Having heard your story I assume this dragon is one of them and you have been in contact with the Princess all along. Am I right?”

Jon nodded his head in confirmation.

”Aye, Rhaegal is one of the three dragons that hatched from the dragon eggs that belonged to Princess Daenerys. She is not here, because she went to Astapor to enlist the Unsullied for our cause.”

“Unsullied?” Marq Mandrake grumbled. He was an exile graced with a pox-scarred face and a hole in his cheeks, where he once carried a slave mark.”You want us to fight alongside cockless slaves?”

“Does that matter?” Tristan Rivers, another exile asked.”The Unsullied know how to fight and that is all that counts to me.”

“I agree,” Lysono Maar added with a smile.”All that counts is that they can fight, though I sure hope that those are not the only allies you can name your own.”

“Doran Martell is prepared to support us and I have connections to the North, the Riverlands and the Vale through my mother’s family. The Starks fought a bloody war against the Lannisters and my cousin Sansa remains as the last heir to the North. If we can free her from Lannister hands the Northern Lords might forget their past grudges for the Targaryens.”

“Past grudges are hard to shrug off,” Ser Laswell Peake remarked skeptically.

“Aye, but sweet revenge makes one forget past grudges much faster,” Jon countered.”And revenge is what I intend to grant the Northern Lords.”

“Revenge they can have plenty for all I care,” Lysono Maar added.”What is more of interest to me is what you intend to offer us for our service?”

“Plenty of gold, lands and lordships for you to take, the Westerlands if that pleases you,” Jon offered and the men muttered among each other. Some smiled greedily while others looked almost hopeful. It confirmed what Lord Connington told him.

Most of them are desperate to go home, he thought and shifted his attention to Strickland, who remained hesitant.

“The Westerlands sound like a fat price, but our true enemy will be the Reach,” Strickland remarked and let his gaze sweep through the room.”Are you willing to take that risk?”

Ser Frankly Flowers was the first to speak.”You have my support as long as I can kill a few Fassoways along the way.”

Soon others made their agreement known, among them Black Balaq, Marq Mandrake, Tristan Rivers and several others.

Strickland remained hesitant.

“Well then, tell us,” Strickland said and shifted his attention back to Jon and Lord Connington.”How do you intend to go about it?”

Jon swallowed and explained his plan.

“We have enough gold to buy us passage and ships to Pentos, where we will join up with Princess Daenerys and the Unsullied, before sailing to Westeros. Dorne will be the first stop and from there we will be able to invade the Stormlands. That is the basic plan, but a war-proven man like you knows how easily plans can change in a matter of weeks, Captain Strickland.”

A moment of heavy silence passed.

Then Strickland sighed and dropped his head in acceptance.

“Very well,” he muttered.”We will sail for Westeros.”

…

Chapter Text

Benjen

Benjen met Edd Tollet out in the yard, when the eastern sky had just begun to lighten. The sky was bright and there was not a wisp of a cloud to be seen.

Behind him were a dozen of men, armed with spears and arrows. Among them stood Mance Ryder and unchained.

It was a lie, but Benjen was had not much of a choice. He doubted the any of the Wildlings would trust him without his word backed by their King.

“A bright day, Lord Commander,” Mance Ryder remarked and smiled mockingly.”A bright day, all warm and sunny.”

“A bright day indeed,” Edd added with a smile.”It means the Wall will weep and winter is almost upon us. It is unnatural sign, if you ask me.”

Benjen couldn’t help but to smile and even Mance Ryder seemed slightly amused by the mans gallows humor.

“If sunshine is a bad sign,” Mance Ryder remarked.”What if it were to snow?”

Edd wrinkled his brows.”An even worse sign.”

Benjen laughed and patted the man’s shoulder before they made their way to the stables, where his horse was awaiting him.

The stars had completely faded when they assembled at the gates.

It was time.

“Open the Gates!” Benjen gave the order and let his hand graze over the pommel of his sword. It helped to wash away his growing apprehension.”Open the Gates!”

The sentries heard and the war horns sounded. The loud sound rang out. It was only one blast and for thousand of years it signified the return of the rangers, but today it meant something else. Today the Free Folk was crossing the Wall.

On either side of the long tunnel, the gates were swung open and the bars unlocked. Above them the ice of the wall simmered in pink and purple.

Edd led them along, lightening their way through the gloomy tunnel until they stepped outside again, the sharp wind biting into their skin.

There North of the Wall, the infamous Tormund Giantsbane was awaiting them, mounted on a scraggy garron. Beside him were two younger men, who showed much resemblance to him and eyed Benjen with distrust.

His sons, Benjen guessed and eyed the three scores of worries flanking the man.

Tormund granted flashed Benjen a grim look.

“Guards, is it? Now tell me…Where is the trust in that sort of action, crow?”

Benjen jerked his head towards Tormund’s men.

“You brought more men than we did,” Benjen explained, before turning back to his own men. It was no surprise that Tormund didn’t recognize his King. He looked gaunt and pale, devoid of his former Wildling garb, safe for the strange black cloak embellished with silken stripes.

“Did Val not inform you about my commands, Tormund,” Mance Ryder added and pulled down the hood of his cloak.”No fighting.”

A grin spread over Tormund’s lips.

“Aye, I heard your commands,” he confirmed and jerked his head towards Benjen and his men.”I wanted to be sure. Val told me that you are still alive, but none of us dared to believe...that is why I brought the men. I wanted to make sure that this is no trap laid out by those nasty crows.”

Mance nodded his head in understanding.

”It is no trap, Tormund. The Lord Commander agrees to allow the Free Folk pass in exchange for child hostages and their promise to obey the King’s Law.”

“The King’s Law?” Tormund asked and stroked his scraggy beard beard.”Val told me there is more. She told me that that King of yours who broke our host wants us to fight for him. Is that true?”

“Aye, it is true,” Benjen confirmed.”He will ask of the Free Folk to join the Northern Lords in their fight against the Boltons, but that is only to the advantage of the Free Folk. By helping the Northern Lords to retake the North from their enemies you can remove the mistrust that reins between our people and by killing the Boltons you can also remove a potential enemy of the Free Folk. No man, woman or child of the Free Folk will be safe as long as Roose Bolton remains Warden of the North. He will hunt you and flay your children alive. The Rangers of the Night’s Watch are nothing compared to him and his bastard son.”

”Sound’s like a nasty cunt,” he grumbled and turned to Mance.”But can I trust Lord Crow’s word?”

Mance nodded his head in confirmation, though Benjen saw the discomfort apparent on his face.

“I hold no love for Benjen Stark, but he saved my life,” Mance countered.”You can trust him.”

I saved his life only temporarily, Benjen wanted to correct them, but stopped himself at the last moment.

“Now then,” he said instead.”Do you agree to our conditions?”

A moment of silence passed and Tormund grumbled something in his beard, before giving his answer.

“Aye, I agree,” he said at last and Tormund lifted his warhorn to his lips. The sound echoed around them and the promised hostages, one hundred boys between the age of eight and sixteen came forward.”There your blood price, Lord Crow. I hope their wailing mothers won’t haunt your dreams at night.”

What are a few more ghosts, Benjen wondered. Some of the boys were brought forward by their mother or father, others by an older sibling. The older boys, came alone to face their uncertain future.

His men counted the boys that passed, noting each their name and collecting a toll. The boys had no reason to love him, but none of them wept nor tried to flee.

Looking at them he saw the work of winter. They were all thin, some even past the point of gauntness.

Tormund Giantsbane took care to point out the sons belonging to men of renown among the Free Folk.

“That is the son of Soren Shieldbreaker,” he jerked his head towards a tall thin boy.”The one with the red heir is Gerrick Kingsblood’s get of old Raymund Redbeard’s line.”

Thus it went one. Other hostages were named as sons of Devyn Sealskinner, Kyleg of the Wooden Ear, Morna White Mask, the Great Walrus and Alfyn Crowkiller…

Yet two of the boy’s turned out to be girls.

“I can’t take them. I need two boys to take their places,” Benjen insisted.

“Why that?” Tormund asked and scratched his beard.”A hostage is a hostage. A father loves his daughters too. Well, most fathers do. I do.”

Mance sighed.

“It is not their father's love that concerns him,” Mance explained.”They might rape or murder them.”

“Very well, two more boys you will have, Lord Crow,” Tormund grumbled.

Thus they continued to watch the nine and ninety hostages pass the tunnel beneath the Wall while Tormund used the time to find a replacement for the boy hostages.”Here my son Dryn. I hope for you that he will be taken care of or I will cook your black liver and eat it, Lord Crow."

Two he demanded, but the boy was the son of Tormund.

“He will do,” Benjen replied at last.”He will be my page.”

Tormund laughed and sent his boy after the others.

Then he grasped his horn and brought it to his lips.

Now the warriors followed.  One in every ten came mounted, but all of them came armed. Across their backs they wore painted shields and all kinds of different weapons. Among them were also women, the infamous spearwives.

Benjen recalled killing a good dozen in his time as ranger, but there were other brothers who did much worse to them. Rape was not uncommon, but that was to be expected. Taking the black might free one of his past crimes, but it didn’t change he man beneath the black cloak.

As a result the hostile looks of the passing men didn't surprise him, though their faces softened when they spotted Mance Ryder.

None knelt, but many pledged to keep the King’s Law as demanded of them.

“What Tormund swore, I swear,” Brogg, a man of few words declared.

Then came a man named Soren Shieldbreaker, who bowed his head to Mance.”I never thought this day will come, but I trust you and my ax is yours as always."

Then came the red-bearded Gerrick Kingsblood in company of three girls.”They will make fine wives and give their husbands strong sons of royal blood,” he bragged.”Like their father, they are descended from Raymund Redbeard, who was once King-Beyond-the Wall.”

“Lord Crow's King will like that,” Mance replied mockingly and patted the man’s shoulder.”He will name them Princesses like he did with Val.”

More followed and as they passed each warrior stripped off their belongings and tossed them into one of the carts his men placed before the gate.

Then came the riders of the Frozen Shore, their chariots rolling past in a clattering noise. The dogs that drew those chariots were equally fearsome, almost as big as the direwolves his brother’s children once named as heir own. The children and their mothers followed after them, their dark eyes glowering at him from the distance. Some of them wore antlers and others wore walrus tusks.

“Those lot don’t like each other,” Mance informed him then.”You better keep them apart.”

“I see,” Benjen replied and continued to watch until the sun was standing high on the bright blue sky.

Nine-thousand, Benjen counted, but that was only a rough guess.

Yet there were many more lurking beyond the Wall, ready prey for the Others.

“Where are the others?” Mance asked Tormund.”Did you send for them?.”

“Aye, I did,” Tormund confirmed.”Sadly, most of my scouts didn’t return and probably ended up as fodder for the Others. It was hard enough to convince those that are here.”

Benjen sighed and nodded his head in understanding.

“Do you know where the rest of your people are hiding?”

“The Free Folk is splintered. I heard that a large host is assembling in Hardhome and that some of the Thenns returned to their valley. Then there is the Weeper…they say he is gathering men at the Milkwater and is planning to cross the Bridge of Skulls.”

“It matters not,” Benjen told him.”We will try to save as many as we can, but first you need to attend the parley with the Northern Lords. I can’t ride to war with you, but I will do my best to broker peace between the Northern Lords and the Free Folk.”

Tormund appeared skeptical.

“Aye, I stand by my word,” he confirmed.”But you should be careful or this will end in a bloody brawl and I tell ya…I won’t kiss your King’s feet.”

Mance smiled and patted Tormund’s shoulder.

“You won’t have to,” Mance confirmed.”No kneeling, you only need to accept the King’s law. The old times are over. I hold no love for the Crows, but we share a common enemy.”

Tormund’s eyes widened.

“So you saw them too?”

Benjen nodded his head in confirmation.

“Aye, I saw them.”

…

Daenerys

It was early in the morning when Doreah came to wake her.

“Khaleesi, ships are coming…I think Jon has returned to us,” the girl explained, her golden hair still messy from sleep. It surprised her that Ned Dayne wasn’t in her company, given that she saw him sneaking into her rooms.

Relief washed over her and she rose to dress herself.

Doreah helped her put on a dress and braided her hair. They did it as quietly as possible to avoid waking Rhaella and Missandei, but it was no use.

The former slave girl was a light sleeper and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Why didn't you wake me, Mistress?” she asked in confusion and knelt down next to Dany.

"You were awake all night and I thought it would be better to let you rest," she explained to the girl.

Surprised showed on he girl's face.

“I am your servant, Mistress,” she protested.”If you don’t have need of me you should send me away.”

Dany sighed and knelt down to place a kiss on her cheek.

“I do have need of you,” she replied quickly.”Nobody in my entourage speaks eleven tongues. I heard the men of the Golden Company are very diverse. I am sure you will be of great help to me. Now if your are not tired you may help Doreah to take care of Rhaella."

This seemed to satisfy the girl and Dany made her way to the harbor. She and her brother have resided in Pentos for nearly a year and thus she knew her way without the help of Magister Illyrio's many servants.

The first thing she saw was Rhaegal, flapping his wings and throwing flames into the air as if to greet her.

He has grown so much, was the first thing that came to her mind.

Syndor and Viserion were much the same. Syndor was now bigger than a horse and in a few moons he might be able to carry a lightweight like her.

Around her men were leaving the ships. They came in all shapes. Some were short and of a strong build while others were tall and lithe. Yet all of them made the impression of hard men who probably saw a hundred battles in their lifetime.

Not only that. Their languages and skin tones were just as numerous. She spotted men hailing from the Summer Islands, from Lys, from Norvos and many more places she visited during her travels in Essos.

As numerous as the men were were the horse, but the most stunning sight were the elephants. Dany saw such animals before, but the Golden Company used them to fight. Even her young dragons appeared rather small compared to these mighty animals.

Jon had changed as well. His hair was much longer, falling way beyond his shoulders and he was no longer dressed in the colors of House Dayne.

He wore dark pants, polished boots and an equally dark tunic. His cloak was of a dark crimson color, though not made of the usual silk that nobles like to wear.

“Daenerys!” his soft, rumbling voice called out to her and she rushed towards him, jumping into his arms.

He caught her easily and whirled her around, before placing a kiss to her lips and settling her back on the ground.

“Well, I didn’t expect such a happy greeting,” Jon remarked and smiled brightly. He seemed happy to see her.

“I am also pleased to see you again, Princess,” Ser Barristan added with a gentle smile while the two strangers next to him eyed her with wide eyes. One was a short and portly man and the other one was tall and graced with red hair.

“I am well,” she confirmed with a smile and dipped her head in greeting to the two strangers.”Who are your companions? Would you introduce us?”

Jon opened his mouth, but the man with the red hair was quicker.

“My name is Jon Connington and your brother Prince Rhaegar was my most beloved friend,” he explained and leaned down to kiss her hand.

Hearing his kind words about her brother warmed her heart.

“You are most welcome, Lord Connington,” she replied and squeezed his hand.”I heard goods things about you from Lady Ashara Dayne. I am sure she will be pleased to meet you.”

He nodded his head and straightened himself.

“I will be pleased to meet her again,” he replied and Dany shifted her attention to the portly man, who granted her a polite smile.

“Harry Strickland, Leader of the Golden Company at your service.”

Dany returned his polite smile.

“We have been expecting you,” she replied.”Know that you are most welcome in Magister Illyrio’s home.”

He seemed hesitant.

”I thank you, but I have work to attend to. Getting all my men settled will require my full attention. I and my other officers will join you later. I think we have much to discuss.”

“We have,” Jon added and wound his hand around her shoulder, squeezing it lightly.”But we shouldn’t get to comfortable. We will sail soon.”

Dany was not surprised by his enthusiasm. He longs for home.

“First you should take a rest,” she told him.”We also have a guest from Westeros.”

Surprise showed on Jon's face.

”A guest?”

“Aye, a guest from Westeros,” she replied vaguely and received curious looks from both Lord Connington and Ser Barristan.

“Then let us go,” Jon added and jerked his head towards Lord Connington.”You will join us later, won’t you, my Lord?”

Lord Connington seemed hesitant.

“Of course he will,” Ser Barristan answered for him and patted his shoulder, which was enough to make the man forget about his hesitation.

“Of course,” Lord Connington confirmed."I will join you later."

When they returned Tyrion Lannister awaited them in company of Lady Ashara and his best friend, a goblet of fresh wine. Dany has known the Lord for a few weeks, but she was astounded by his ability to pour down that amount of wine and retaining the ability to speak in full sentences.

It is a miracle, but I need to find a way to make him stop.

Jon seemed confused by the presence of the small man, but when he spotted his mother his face was lightened by a smile, which was promptly returned by Lady Ashara.

“Jon, I am relieved to see you hale,” she said and Jon joined her side, allowing her to put a kiss on his brow.

Then he shifted his attention back to Lord Tyrion, who has been eyeing Jon with great curiosity.

“I assume you are the guest Daenerys told me about?”

"And I assume you are the hidden Targaryen Prince?” the dwarf replied jokingly.

“I am,” Jon confirmed.”And who are you?”

Tyrion Lannister nodded his head and opened his mouth, but was promptly cut off by Ser Barristan.

“I know his name, your Grace,” he said, his voice ringing with clear hostility.”This man is Tyrion Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister. He was Robb Stark’s enemy.”

Jon was stunned and his gaze flickered back to Dany.

“He is not a man you can trust, Princess," Ser Barristan added.

Daenerys sighed and jerked her head towards Tyrion.

“You will think otherwise once heard his story. He is the reason Tywin Lannister is dead. He says he is no longer loyal to his family.”

Jon wrinkled his brows, taking in the new information, before turning his attention back to Tyrion.

“Tywin Lannister is dead?” he asked in an unbelieving tone.”How did he die?”

“By my hands…a bolt to the groin,” Tyrion Lannister explained.”His was a shameful death if it is any consolation to you. The great Tywin Lannister died on his privy. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I am prepared to prove my loyalty.”

A moment of silence passed and Jon’s gaze flickered back to her.

“Then you believe him?”

“I believe him,” Daenerys replied, though that didn't mean she fully trusted him.”I think we should give him a chance to prove his loyalty. He has a sharp mind and he could be of great help to us.”

Jon frowned and regarded Lord Tyrion.

“What is Daenerys talking about?”  he asked, still rather coldly but that didn’t surprise her. Lord Tyrion’s nephew executed Eddard Stark.

“I think there will be enough time for that later, your Grace,” he explained and swallowed deeply, before continuing.”There are a few things you should know before we continue this conversation.”

“Then tell me,” Jon demanded impatiently.

“You should sit down for that,” Lord Tyrion replied politely.

Jon looked unhappy to take commands from Lord Tyrion, but Dany came to Lord Tyrion’s aid.

“You should listen to him,” she told Jon and touched his shoulder.

Jon's features softened and he took a seat at the table.

Then Lord Tyrion poured wine into the goblet and handed it to Jon.

“Drink!” he urged the boy, but Jon remained stubborn and refused.

“Tell me already,” he demanded instead.

Lord Tyrion sighed and met Jon’s gaze.

“I was told you know about my marriage to your cousin Sansa Stark. I want you to know that I never touched her. Our marriage remains unconsummated.”

Hope washed over Jon’s face.

“Where is she?” he asked, his voice taking a softer tone.

Tyrion Lannister dropped his head as if to apologize.

“All I know is that she is no longer in King’s Landing. Last I saw her on my nephew’s wedding to Margaery Tyrell. I heard she fled the city, but others told me she is dead.”

Jon grabbed the table.

“But that doesn't mean anything…I think she is alive,” Lord Tyrion added in attempt to calm the situation. Jon gritted his teeth and exhaled deeply. Then he brushed his disheveled hair out of his face, before speaking again.

Dany didn’t know what to make of his reaction. Lord Stark’s death grieved him deeply and Robb Stark’s death angered him, but now he seemed almost calm. Was it silent anger or did he simply get numb to the pain?

 “I understand,” he said at last, his voice heavy.”Is there more I need to know?”

Lord Tyrion threw Dany a sorrowful glance, before he continued to recount his tale.

“Aye, there is more. You should know that Prince Oberyn Martell perished in a duel against the Mountain… a duel that was meant to decide my guilt. You see…my father wanted to blame Joffrey’s death on me and Prince Oberyn Martell volunteered to fight for me. He didn’t do it out of pure selflessness. He wanted to revenge his sister Princess Elia.”

Jon didn’t speak, but he was trembling. She moved closer to the table and grasped his shoulder, to let him know that she is here.

“Prince Oberyn once told me that he would gladly pay with his life if it brought him the Mountain's head,” Jon said at last and grasped for her hand, resting on his shoulder.”Is the Mountain still alive?”

“I don’t know,” Lord Tyrion replied.”When Prince Oberyn died he was still alive.”

“I see,” Jon replied.”It matters not. If he is still alive it will be my pleasure to kill him.”

There was a murderous tone to Jon’s voice that unsettled her, but it was to be expected. He knew how much Prince Oberyn meant to Jon.

“We will make him pay,” Dany added softly, before turning to Lord Tyrion."First we should allow my nephew to rest. Would you mind if we speak tomorrow?”

“Of course not,” Lord Tyrion agreed.”Take as much time as you need, Princess.”

Before rising to his feet Jon drowned the rest of the wine Lord Tyrion had poured in to his goblet only moments ago.

“You were right, the wine helps,” Jon replied and followed after her.

When they entered her chambers they found Doreah and Missandei playing with Rhaella.

“Khalessi…Ser Jon,” she greeted and smiled.”It is good to have you back.”

Jon's smile seemed feigned.

“I thank you,” he replied and eyed Missandei.”Who are you, if you don’t mind my question?”

Missandei smiled shyly and bowed her head in greeting.

“I am Missandei, a servant to Princess Daenerys,” she declared formal as ever.

“She is one of the freed slaves from Astapor. She speaks eleven tongues,” Dany added gently.

“Eleven tongues?” Jon asked and appeared impressed.”That is remarkable and you are so young.”

Missandei flushed.

“I am am not remarkable. I am only a servant,” she suttered and Dany sighed. The girl was too humble for her own good.

“Anyway, “Dany added and clapped her hands together.”You two look hungry and Jon and I need to speak alone."

“Of course,” Doreah replied and lifted Rhaella into Dany's arms, before pulling Missandei out of the room.

“My…you have grown,” Jon said softly and leaned down to place a kiss on her head. Yet Rhaella had a better idea and pulled on his hair.

Jon gasped in pain and but Dany laughed.

“Carefully,” she chided her daughter and loosened her grip on Jon’s hair.

“She is strong,” Jon remarked with a smile. The sadness was still there, but Rhaella’s presence seemed to lighten his mood.”Give her to me.”

“Here,” Dany replied and lifted Rhaella into Jon’s arms.”But keep your hair away from her.”

Jon laughed.”That will be hard.”

Dany nodded her head and brushed his hair to his back.”Well, I could give you a haircut. To be honest…you look a bit like a vagrant.”

He frowned.

“Well, a haircut can’t hurt,” he replied, but sounded very opposed to the idea.

Dany was amused, but she was happy to find a way to take his mind off the sad news he received.

“Well, then let’s do it,” she added.

“Now?” he asked, as if she meant to torture him.

She grinned mischievously.

“Better now that never,” she told him and went to search for the scissors Doreah uses for her sewing.

Then Dany had him sit down on the bed with Rhaella in his lap and went to work. She often did the same for Viserys before he grew bitter and resentful. She knew what she was doing, though Jon seemed to think otherwise and started to fidget.

“Don’t you think that is a bit too much?” he asked and lifted a cut-off curl of hair. It was only a few inches.

Dany wrinkled her brows.

“You know I never pecked you as vain,” she remarked jokingly and continued her work.

“I am not vain, but short hair makes me look like a plucked chicken,” he muttered.

This roused her curiosity.

“When and why did you look like a plucked chicken?”

“That was a long time ago. One of Elia Sand's horses got sick and she refused to leave the animal until it was back to health. Well, she gave us all lice and Prince Oberyn forced me to cut off...," he trailed off.

“…your hair,” she ended for him and he gave her a silent nod.

“He called me a whiny little girl for making such a fuss about it,” he replied and buried his face in his free hand.

Dany put the scissors away and hugged him.

“We will defeat the Mountain. I promise.”

...

Chapter Text

Arya

Happy Port was brimming with customers. Yesterday several trading ships landed in the harbor, full of sailors who haven’t seen a woman in moons. For the girls of Happy Port that meant that Mistress Meralyn was driving them like a slaver. It was no the first time that Arya wondered how these girls were still able to walk while she was occupied with refilling the cups of the guests.

Now and then one of the drunken men not only asked her to refill the cup, but also to sit in his lap. Arya hated it, but she is now Diara a courtesan-in-training and whispered sweet words to them like Lanna thought her in her many lessons.

After a while she finally found a moment to breathe and dedicated herself to her favorite activity: observing the guests. Tomorrow she will have to return to the House of White and Black and the Kindly Man will surely ask about her observations.

Thus she searched the room for both fresh and familiar faces. One of the recurring customers was a singer named Daeron. He arrived a week ago on a ship from Westeros and in company of four companions: a fat boy, a girl with a babe and an old man.

Daeron visited them nearly every day while the fat boy spent most of his time hiding upstairs and taking care of the old man. The girl came down occasionally, but hardly anyone of the other girls was able to speak the Common Tongue apart from Diara and Lanna.

They soon found out that she is named Gilly and a Wilding born beyond the Wall. Arya Stark wanted to ask her more questions, but Diara didn’t care about such things. Later she also found out that the fat boy, the old man and the singer are men of the Night’s Watch, sent to Oldtown by the New Lord Commander Stark. In that moment Arya’s heard nearly jumped out of her breast. Uncle Benjen lives.

Since that day she has been hoping that the fat boy will come down to join them again, but she had little luck in this matter. The only one who came to keep them company was the braggart singer Daeron.

Daeron the Fool, Arya dubbed him for his big mouth, but that Lanna was constantly eying him like a mooncalf angered her even more.

Open your eyes, stupid!

Even now she was sitting in his lap and listening to one of his drippy songs of tragic love. Sansa would have loved this fool, Arya thought but it irked her that Lanna was falling for the same tricks. For all her dreaminess Lanna was a sweet girl who deserved better than him.

“Diara!” a high-toned voice snapped her out of her reverie. It was one of the other girls named Naya. She hails from the Summer Islands and was very liked for her curvy build and full bosom.”Diara!”

Arya quickly slipped back into her role and dipped her head in reverence to the older girl.

“What can I do?”

“The Mistress wants you to go to the cook and to bring the food to our strange guests. The singer who bought our Lanna thinks that his fat friend might starve to death if he doesn’t get his supper. Now go and be quick about it. The cups of our guests will need refilling.”

“Of course,” Diara replied obediently and made her way to the kitchen to speak to the cook. He was a fat Pentoshi who often slipped her honey cakes when she was smiling at him, but today he seemed very busy and had little patience for her. He referred her to his helping helping hand who quickly handed her the tray stacked with food.

It was full bowl of fish soup and fresh sea shells accompanied by dark bread, though she doubted it would be enough to feed the fat boy. Only a few days ago she saw him eat half a cake on his own.

Maybe he I can find out more about Uncle Benjen, she wondered as she made her way up the creaking steps, before knocking on the door.

“I am coming,” a gentle voice told her and she found Gilly opening the door. When she first set foot into Happy Port the girl was dressed in a thick pelt, but one of the girls of Happy Port took pity on Gilly and sold her plain dress with a low cleavage, which didn’t seem to bother the girl as she was spending most of her days suckling her babe.

“Oh, it’s you!” she said and smiled.

”Didra, right?”

“Diara,” she corrected the girl with a mild smile.”I am here to bring you supper.”

“Oh,” the girl said and nodded her head in understanding, before stepping aside and shifting her attention to the fat boy seated next to the old man’s bed.”Sam, supper is here.”

The word supper roused the boy out of his concentration, a happy smile washing over his face at the prospect of food.

“Supper…that sounds good,” he remarked and flashed her a curious look.”What is it today?”

“Fish soup, fresh seashells and dark bread,” she explained in return and made her way over to the table to put down the tray next to a stack of books.

Diara didn’t care about such things, but Arya Stark couldn’t help but to eye the open book. It was written in the Common Tongue and spoke of the Others or that is what she surmised after quickly reading over it.

Arya knew stories about the Others from Old Nan’s tales, but this book looked like written by the pen of a Maester and not like a fairy tale for children.

Yet that wasn’t the only particular object on the table. There placed atop a stack of books was an old war horn branded with bronze and it’s rim chipped through age.

It looks broken.

What use is a broken horn?

“Do you like the paintings?” the Sam asked softly and snapped her out of her whirling thoughts.”They were painted hundreds of years ago and yet they retrained their beauty. Isn’t that incredible?”

She gave the boy a hesitant smile.

“I like the pictures, but the writing is even more interesting,” she replied, but when she saw Sam’s surprised look she realized that she made a mistake.

“You can read?”

No, Diara the courtesan-in-training can’t read, but Arya Stark can.

“I can,” she replied and tried to hide the emotions stirring up inside her.”I am from Westeros. My father was the third son of a minor Lord, but we had a Maester. He thought me letters and numbers. That is how I learned.”

Yet that didn’t satisfy Sam’s curiosity.

“Oh, that is sad,” the boy remarked and smiled sadly.”It has to be hard to be so far away from home and to live in this place. What was the name of your father, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“That doesn’t matter…he is dead,” she replied more coldly than intended, but she didn’t have the nerve to speak about her father, no matter how kindly Sam smiled at her.

Her father was dead and gone. Thinking about him made her only sad.

“Oh,” the boy said and looked very distraught.”Forgive my curiosity…I didn’t know.”

“I am not angry,” assured him quickly. For some reason she didn’t want to see him sad.

I need a change of topic, she thought and her eyes fell back on the horn.

“That horn of yours…it is broken,” she stated and hoped that didn’t sound too stupid, but she felt relieved when the boy laughed.

“It is indeed broken, but I can’t bring myself to throw it away. Two of my friends found it at the Fist of the First Men and it reminds me of them. That’s why I keep it even if it is not much of use. Besides, it has some interesting runes embellished on the back. I don’t know the language, but maybe I will find a book in the Citadel that can decipher them,” he babbled on, though a simple “Aye” would have more than sufficed for an answer.

When Arya wanted to open her mouth to speak again, the old man woke from his slumber.

“Samwell!” he called out, his voice raw like strained glass. It was also the first time that she saw him awake.”Samwell!”

He is blind, she realized when he opened his pale and unseeing eyes. For some time she had been blind herself, but that was part of her training. For the old man it is a pain he will have to endure until his death.

“I am here, Maester!” Sam assured him and was quick at his side.”We have food.”

The Maester smiled and patted Sam’s hand.

“I can smell it,” he replied.”I also heard a stranger’s voice…Am I right?”

Impressive, Arya thought. Despite his old age the man found a way to cope with his disadvantage. That was something Arya could only respect.

“Aye, we have a visitor…she is one of the girls…Diara is her name and she brought us the food. She also likes my books,” he added and blushed, before giving Gilly an apologetic look.

“I see,” the old man said.”It is good to see that there are still well-read minds in this world. It is a pleasure to meet you, my child.”

Arya smiled and tried to brush away the memories that were fluttering through her mind. Maester Luwin once told her something very similar.

He is dead and gone, she reminded herself. I need to go. This was a mistake.

I am no longer Arya of House Stark. I am Diara, a courtesan-in-training and soon to be no one.

“It is also a pleasure to meet you, Maester,” she replied politely and dipped her head.”I hope you enjoy the soup and the fresh sea shells. The food will help you to get better. Well, I need to make haste. My Mistress would be very displeased with me if she found out that I am dallying around. I need to go.”

Then she turned around and rushed down the steps, her heart hammering in her chest.

I need to become no one, she told herself.

Thus she resumed her work late into the night. She refilled cups, allowed herself to be fondled and complimented the drunken men.

It was still early in the morning when she crawled out of her bed and washed herself, before donning simpler clothing. Lanna was still gone, but it was better that way. Today she was meant to return to the House of Black and White and she wasn’t sure if Diara the pretty courtesan-in-training was meant to return here.

For some reason that made her very sad. Arya Stark liked Lanna and wanted to go back to Sam and the old Maester to talk more about the North and her home.

My Uncle Benjen is alive, she knew. I could go to the Wall. I could go home.

The thought alone was enough to bring stupid tears to her eyes.

No, she told herself and pulled on her cloak and hat, before slipping out of the window. First I need to become no one.

The streets were little crowded that day as she made her way back to the House of Black and White. All she saw was a woman putting up clothing, a handful of street boys throwing stones at a nearby house and a peddler who wanted to sell her cockles.

The eastern horizon was alight with orange and red streaks when she finally arrived at her destination. Without much ado she changed into her old robes and entered.

I am late, she knew and hoped that the Kindly Man didn’t notice her frayed nerves. The meeting with Sam and the Maester stirred up old memories.

Like so often he appeared out of nowhere. He was suddenly there, smiling down at her.

“Who are you?” he asked her, his voice a gentle caress.

“No one,” he replied and tried to appear as indifferent as possible.

“And what did no one see and learn?”

“I learned how to sing and dance. I learned how to seduce a man with words. I learned how the ways of a courtesan,” she replied.

The Kindly man nodded his head.

“You did, but you didn’t answer all my questions. What did you see?”

“I saw a pair of sailors killing each other. I saw a fat boy who sang a beautiful song to a babe. I saw an old blind man, who wept tears when he tasted the fresh sea soup from Happy Port.”

“Good,” he replied and touched her cheek.

“And who are you now?”

“I am no one,” she replied automatically.

The Kindly Man chuckled.

“We shall see. There is a name that was given to us. This time you shall go with your own face. It will be your next test,” he replied.

“I understand,” she replied and tried not to sound too curious.”Who is the name that was given to you?”

“Daenerys Targaryen.”

…

Jon

Jon expected a palace, but on the outside the Iron Bank appeared as nothing more than a three-storied building wrought in the same way as all the other buildings in Braavos. Only when he, Daenerys and Lord Tyrion stepped inside they saw the opulence owned by the Iron Bank. Marbled floors, arched corridors and gilded walls greeted them everywhere.

“Welcome to the Iron Bank!” a tall, thin man with dark eyes and a long beard greeted them.”My name is Tycho Nestoris and I am here to represent the interests of our keyholder Bessaro. Would you please follow me?”

“Of course,” Daenerys added with a smile and thus they were led along another marbled corridor decorated with large paintings, showing men dressed in rich robes and jewels. Jon couldn’t help but to eye them with curiosity and earned himself an amused smile by Tycho Nestoris.

“Those paintings show the previous keyholders of our time-honored establishment,” the banker explained and opened a crimson door.”Please, come along.”

The room they entered was even more spacious and furnished with a large polished table and gilded chairs. The sealing was even more impressive, made of pure gold and silver and portraying all kind of exotic animals.”

“Please make yourself comfortable,” the banker told them and clapped his hands together. Servants came forward and brought wine and a bowl filled with exotic fruits. Then they poured wine them each a cup of wine, before fluttering away.

The banker lifted the cup, took a sip, folded his hands and smiled.

“I have to say your visit is rather surprising, Princess Daenerys,” he said, before shifting his attention to Jon.”And you are, her nephew? We heard conflicting reports, but what we know for sure is that you hired the Golden Company. Before we continue with our talk…Could you clarify the situation for me?”

Jon nodded his head and brushed his hair out of his face.

“My father was Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and my mother Lyanna Stark. My father made her his second wife and Princess Daenerys and I intend to claim the Iron Throne if that is what you want to hear.

The banker nodded his head in silence and his eyes flickered back to Princess Daenerys.

“This is a very surprising development, given that your brother Prince Viserys once harbored the same intentions. Where has your nephew been hiding all those years?”

“In Dorne,” Jon replied.”It was necessary to hide my identity to protect me from Robert Baratheon’s swords and thus I grew up as a bastard.”

The banker nodded his head and picked a peach from the bowl of fruits.

“Well, that sounds rather adventurous. Yet all that matters to me is that the Iron Bank receives it’s due and I have to admit our current relationship with Queen Regent Cersei is rather hostile...I assume you heard of it and now you are here to win our loyalty, isn’t that right, Lord Lannister?”

“We heard about my sister’s deeds,” Tyrion confirmed and played with his empty goblet.”But we don’t know the details. What exactly did Cersei do that angered you so much that you started calling in all the outstanding debts?”

Tycho Nestoris ate his peach, before spitting the core into a bowl offered left earlier by one of the servants.

“The Queen Mother treated my envoy with most detestable manners. Six times good Noho Dimittis came before the fool that the Queen calls her Maester of Coin and six times the fool sent him away. Then when he came before the Queen herself she not only refused to acknowledge him, but also insulted good Noho Dimittis. Do you want to hear, what she told my good friend?”

Tyrion brimmed seemed to brim with curiosity and nodded his head.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“She told him to seek out her Maester of Coin for the seventh time as the number seven is sacred to the gods of Westeros.”

“That sounds very much like my sister, but your problems with the Iron Throne are the reason we are here. The Golden Company has already sailed for Dorne and we will soon follow after them. We intend to bring order back to the Seven Kingdoms and having the help of the Iron Bank will be instrumental in this task. I know from my time as Hand that the Crown owes about two million gold dragons to the Iron Bank and I intend to repay this amount by offering you the rights to one third of the gold mines of the Westerlands. Ten years of incomes should more than sufficient to repay the debts and restore our creditworthiness. All this is of course depended on our success.”

The banker smiled.

“Your assessment is not completely correct, Lord Lannister. The Queen Regent’s refusal to repay the debts led to a considerable rise in the interest rates. I can show you the exact calculations, but the debt has now grown to three million gold dragons.”

“Three million gold dragons?” Tyrion asked and frowned.”Not interest rate can be that high...Where I come from we call this usury.”

The banker remained unimpressed.

“Usury maybe,” he replied and smiled again, „but the Iron Bank has only so much patience to offer. We needed to make a clear statement.”

“I understand,” Daenerys added, „but we are not Queen Regent Cersei. Lord Lannister told me that my father, for all his madness, was a reliable customer of your bank. Do we deserve the same treatment as her?”

The banker wrinkled his brows.

“That may be, but it was your father’s unstable conditions that led to the Rebellion and put King Robert in power. One can say King Aerys is partly responsible for our current woe and that is why we think it only appropriate for you to shoulder part of his crimes as you consider yourself his successor. The current developments have made us realize that coddling our customers is not a good business practice.”

“And there is no room for negotiations?” Jon asked, trying to curb his impatience.

“Depends on what you want to negotiate about? Is it to our advantage?”

“Partly,” Jon granted and gave Tyrion a knowing smile.”We came here not only to speak about the past, but also about the future.  Much was destroyed in the War of the Five Kings and much will be destroyed in the coming war. To rebuild the Seven Kingdoms a considerable amount of gold will be necessary.”

“Exactly,” Tyrion added, „but I see now that the Iron Bank considers it’s relationship with the Iron Throne more a burden than a benefit. I am prepared to repay your insulting offer, but for these future loans we might consider the Bank of Myr or some other establishment.”

In an instant the banker’s smile was gone.

“My Lord,” the man said and sounded apologetic.”I never intended to insult you and maybe I was a bit too harsh in my assessment. I think I even made a mistake with the calculations. You have to forgive me. I think the amount was 2, 5 million gold dragons.”

“What if I offered you something in return,” Princess Daenerys added, who had been observing the whole situation in curious silence.”Would you consider lowering the percent of the interest?”

“And what do you have to offer me, Princess Daenerys?”

“I have three dragons and one day they will be grown. If the Iron Bank has need of a helping in the future I might consider using them to your advantage,” she explained.”What do you say?”

A brief moment of silence followed and a smile crossed over the banker’s lips.

“Well, I think I think my old age is showing…I think you were right, my Lord Lannister,” Tycho Nestoris replied and dipped his head as if to apologize.”The debt amounts to two million gold dragons.”

 “That sounds much better,” Tyrion remarked, a triumphant smile showing on his lips.”And now that we have settled the matter we should proceed and speak about the future, don’t you agree?”

“I agree,” Tycho Nestoris replied, „but that needs preparation. I suggest for you to pay us another visit. Perhaps tomorrow?”

 “Very well,” Jon looked over to Daenerys, who nodded her head in agreement.”We will speak tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow it is.”

…

Arya

When the Kindly Man gave her the name of Daenerys Targaryen she expected to travel through half of Essos, but it turned out that the Princess is has been residing in the city for nearly a week.

She will leave soon, the waif had told her on their last meeting. You will have to be quick.

I can be more than quick, she had told the waif in return and gathered her belongings on the same day, before departing on her mission.

It took her only half another day, before she found the tavern the Dragon Princess chose as her residence. The place was called The Seastar and one of the better taverns, though not a place where one would expect a Princess.

Arya heard many from stories about the Targaryen Princess. Some say she sacrificed her husband and her brother to hatch her three dragons. Others say she birthed them herself and one sailor hailing from the Slaver Cities even told her that she burned down all of Astapor when the Good Masters tried to steal her dragons. One story sounded more incredible than the next, but all of those stories had one thing in common.

Daenerys Targaryen calls three dragons as her own.

Where are they, Arya wondered not the first time, but then she realized that there are probably a lot of people who wanted to steal them.

And what will become of them after I killed her?

The thought saddened her greatly.

She may not hold much love for the Targaryens, but the girl was not even born when her Mad Father killed Arya Stark’ grandfather and Uncle. Besides, Eddard Stark was not the kind of man who blamed children for the actions of their parents. Even Theon, who was her father’s hostage, was never mistreated by him.

And in the end he murdered my brothers and burned down Winterfell.

I need to become no one.

As always she made up her character, before stepping into her role, though she wore her own face.

Her name was Lyra, the poor daughter of a Westerosi sailor who left his daughter penniless. Arya purposely abstained from food to increase the impression of her performance and achieved the intended effect on the elderly owner of the The Seastar. The woman saw her desperation and was prepared to offer her lodging and food for her work.

In truth it was a pittance, but poor Lyra was desperate and wanted to survive while Arya Stark needed to fulfill her mission.

Luckily, she recognized the Princess on her first night, which was not hard given her exotic appearance.

She found her in company of several people. One was an ugly heavy-bearded man dressed in leather armor, a young man with pale hair, a girl with golden hair and and a small ugly dwarf…

Arya rubbed her eyes to be sure, but the ugly face remained the same.

Tyrion Lannister, she was sure, though she was unable to get closer as the Mistress called her back to work.

What is he doing here, she wondered and went to clean the privy that was located outside of the tavern. Why would Daenerys Targaryen keep a Lannister in her company?

It matters not. It needs to be tonight, she thought and touched her little sword, once gifted to her by her two dead brothers.

Needle is all that is left of Robb and Bran, she thought and felt tears burning in her eyes. For them I need to be no one.

When she was finished she put her cleaning material back into the bucket and returned inside.

The Princess was gone, but her companions were still drinking and talking to each other. Especially, the dwarf was swaying and looked deep  in his cups.

At least that way he won’t be able to recognize me, she thought and returned to the kitchen to help with the dishes. A few more hours passed and the tavern emptied itself. At last even the merry companions carried themselves to bed.

Now or never, she told herself and rushed up the stairs where she found a long corridor. She hadn’t had the opportunity to explore the whole tavern, but one of the other girls was a blabber mouth and told her where exactly the Princess’ chambers are to be found.

Second-floor and on the far left, she repeated. She tried to be as quiet as possible, but the stairs were creaked with every step, though nobody seemed to notice.

Arriving at the top she leaned against the wall and poked her head around the corner.

Luckily, there was nobody in sight.

Taking a deep breath she made her way along the corridor and pulled the keys out of the pocket to open the door. She stole them only this morning and hoped the mistress didn’t notice their absence.

All this was done in precise silence, before she stepped into the room and opened the window panes.

Now the climbing part, she told herself and pulled herself up to climb on the roof. Quietly as a shadow she made her way to the furthest end of the roof and climbed down on the outer balcony, before hiding herself in the shadows to listen to the movements inside.

She heard nothing, only oft breathing of a human being.

She is sleeping, Arya guessed. That will make it easier.

She still trembled with anticipation as she slipped into the room.

There bathed in the moonlight she found the famous Targaryen Princess, but what shocked her was the crib next to her bed.

Sleeping in there was a little child, graced with the same silver hair like the Princess herself.

She has a child, Arya thought and felt suddenly sick. She has a little child.

She stepped closer, her little sword lodged in her trembling hand.

She was torn.

She came here to Braavos to become a faceless man. Every night she dreamed about killing the people from her list, but killing someone like her was a different matter…

Rickon was half a babe when I left, she thought and tightened her grip on the sword. He is dead now.

By thinking about the murder of her brother she hoped to stir up enough hatred inside her to get the deed done, but she was unable to move…

 “Daenerys!” a stranger’s voice pierced the darkness and within the blink of a moment Arya found herself hauled to the ground, two strong hands grabbing for her.

She struggled and kicked, but the man was stronger.

“Let me go!” she shouted and cried out in pain when the person twisted her arm in such a painful way that Needle slipped out of her hand.

“Let me go!” she shouted again and kicked hard, which earned her a painful grumbled from the man.

“What is going on?” a soft-spoken voice belonging asked and held up a candle to lighten the darkness.”Who is the little girl?”

“I don’t know,” the young man grumbled and pressed her down with one hand. Then he brushed Arya’ messy hair out of her face, „but this little girl has a sword and she was standing near your bed.”

Then he leaned down, his shadowed face now lightened by the pale candlelight.

“Who are you?” the young man asked in impatiently.

In that moment Arya felt like someone pulled her heart out of her chest.

I can’t be, she thought and trembled. Father.

…

Chapter Text

Daenerys

The candlelight was weak, but there was something familiar about the girl sprawled on the ground. She was unable to pinpoint if it was the color of her hair, the form of the eyes or her long even-shaped face, but seeing the girl sitting there next to Jon one could taken them for relatives.

Nonsense, she told herself but then she saw recognition washing over the girl’s features. Maybe…

“Who are you and what do you want?” Jon asked, his voice still ringing with animosity.

The girl paled visibly, her grey eyes wide in shock.

“Did you hear me?” Jon asked, a bit louder and pulled on the girl’s arm, who remained silent.

“Jon!” she snapped and pulled on his arm.”Look at her. She looks utterly confused. Give her a bit time.”

“She wanted to kill you…,” he defended and Dany gave him a silencing look.

”You don’t know that,” she added and smiled at the girl. Then she knelt down on the ground and put the candle on the floor.

“Don’t be afraid of Jon…he is easily worried,” she told the girl.”Now tell us. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Instantly the girl’s eyes flickered from Jon to Dany.

“He is right to be worried,” the girl told her.”I came here to kill you, but I couldn’t do it. It seems I am a failure.”

Dany blinked and froze. She was unable to believe it. Why would a young girl like her want to kill her?

“I don’t understand,” she countered hesitatingly.”Who and why did they sent you to kill me?”

The girl shrugged her shoulders and looked very distraught.

“I was training as a Faceless Man…that was my last chance…now I am nothing,” the girl added and gave Jon an apologetic look.”We are not told who gives the name, but you don’t have to fear me. I won’t harm the Princess…I didn’t want to become a Facless Man to harm innocents. I regret my actions.”

Jon gave her an unbelieving look, his dark eyes still shining with hostility.

“You were holding a sword next to my child’s crib,” he said.”I can’t just overlook that and there is no reason for me to believe you.”

The girl looked stunned.

“The child is yours?” she asked in utter disbelief.”Is that really true?”

Dany couldn’t help but to chuckle.

“Why is that surprising to you?” she asked.”Men and women have children have children all the time…Or did you just pop out of the ground?”

“Oh no,” the girl replied and laughed, quite amused by Dany’s quip.”It is just…you are a Targaryen.”

The girl’s answer confused Dany only more.

“There are Targaryens who had plenty of children. I heard King Jaehaerys had thirteen…though I think that is a bit too much for my taste.”

“That is not what I meant,” the girl replied, her fixed on Jon.”It is just… your father King Aerys killed our Grandfather and Uncle. Or did Father never tell you about it?”

Jon was speechless.

“Father?” he asked, his eyes nearly dropping out of his head.”Our Father?”

“Aye,” the girl replied and bobbed her head. Her tangle of brown hair fell into her face, falling over her shoulders.”My father and your father…our father….Lord Eddard Stark. You are Jon Sand, are you not?”

Jon shuddered.

“I am,” he confirmed in a restrained voice.”I am Jon Sand, but…Lord Stark…is…no you are right. In Dorne I am known as Eddard Stark’s bastard son…,” he trailed off.

“She is your sister,” Dany stated and gave the girl a smile. It sounded like madness that they found the girl here in Braavos, but Dany woke dragons from stone and survived a burning funeral pyre.

“It can’t be…we heard of his death,” Jon stuttered.”Are you Sansa or Arya?”

The girl beamed when she heard her name from Jon’s lips.

“Sansa looks nothing like me. She has red hair like burning copper and her eyes are summer blue. She is tall and beautiful like my Lady Mother, but I look like father. She always called me Arya Horseface for my long face and I hated her for it, but now I would do everything to hear her stupid comments once more.”

Dany nodded in understanding while Jon sat there, utterly rigid and eying the girl from head to toe.

Then he leaned closer and touched Arya’s hair as if to make sure that she is real.

The girl enclosed his hand and smiled softly.

“We have the same hair and our eyes are also very similar,” Arya remarked, but Jon didn’t answer and only enclosed the girl into a tight hug.

After a while the Arya started to complain, but Dany could hear the sheer happiness ringing in her voice.

“I can’t breathe!”

“Oh,” Jon said and let Arya go.”It is just…I always wanted to meet you…but you know…,” he continued, his voice failing him. He looked like he was about to cry, tears shining in his eyes.

“I wanted to meet you too, but father didn’t allow it,” she replied sadly.”Now he is dead. Joffrey killed him. That is why I wanted to become a Faceless Man…to kill those that killed my family. Joffrey is dead, but Walder Frey still lives and Cersei Lannister too. Now I can’t even do that.”

“We heard,” Jon replied, his voice heavy with emotion.”We heard that he died. That is why we are gathering an army. We are sailing home soon to take the Iron Throne and to punish the Lannisters for their crimes.”

“Taking the Iron Throne?” the Arya asked, hope lightening up her pretty face as she regarded Dany with her grey eyes. My daughter’s eyes. It made her wonder if Rhaella will look like Arya when she is all grown up.”Does that mean you are intending to become Queen?”

“That is so,” Dany confirmed.”But there is much more you need to know, though I think that would be all a bit too much for one night. Why don’t you tell us how you got here? It is a far way from Westeros to Braavos.”

Arya answered eagerly.

“After they killed my father I fled the city in company of a man from the Night’s Watch named Yoren. He was tasked to bring me home to Winterfell, but he died on the way. I was dressing up as a boy and eventually we got captured and brought to Harrenhall. There we were nearly tortured and killed, but eventually we were able to escape…,”

“We?” Jon asked.

“Myself, Gendry and Hotpie. They were supposed to join the Night’s Watch, but they stayed with the Brotherhood without Banners. I told Gendry that he can be a smith in Winterfell, but he is a stupid bull-headed boy who wanted to be a stupid knight. Anyway, the Brotherhood without Banners wanted to ransom me to Robb, but the Hound stole me.”

Dany wrinkled her brows in confusion.

“The Hound?” she asked.”That sounds dangerous fellow.”

“The Hound is dangerous, but his brother even more so. His real name is Ser Sandor Clegane. He is the Mountain’s brother.”

In the blink of an eye all happiness was gone from Jon’s face.

“Clegane?” he asked.”Did he hurt you?”

Arya seemed to recognize Jon’s fear at once and grasped his hand as if to comfort him.

“No, he even saved my life,” she explained and trembled.”If he hadn’t been there I would have died at the Red Wedding just like my brother and my mother, though he didn’t act out of selflessness. At first I thought he would bring me back to King’s Landing, but he actually wanted to ransom me to my Aunt Lysa, but then he got sick and I ran away. I left him to die, but I needed to go. I needed to get away from Westeros and that is why I came to Braavos. Walder Frey needs to pay for what he did. He is old, but I want to kill him. I need to look him in the eyes when I am doing it. What he did to Robb…,” she stuttered, tears rolling down her face and Jon was quick to pull her into another embrace.”I will more than him than just cut his throat…,”

“And we will help you to punish him,” Dany added softly and touched her shoulder.”If you want we can feed him to one of the dragons, though you said Walder Frey is an old man. I am not sure if my dragons will like an old bone like him.”

Arya laughed, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I would like to see that,” the she replied.”It is just…I don’t know if I can just leave.”

“Of course you will come with us,” Jon insisted and held her close.”Fuck those Faceless Man or whatever they called. Then we will bring you home and find Sansa. Even Lord Tyrion thinks she might still be alive.”

“Lord Tyrion?” the girl asked and turned to Dany, her features darkening at the mention of Tyrion.

”I saw him…I almost forgot to ask,” she said.”Why do you keep the Imp in your company? He married Sansa…and,” she continued but Jon cut her off and explained the situation.

“He never touched her…he swore it and he hates his family just as much as you do…he even killed his father.”

“Tywin Lannister is dead?”

“Aye,” Jon confirmed.”According to Lord Tyrion his father died through a bolt to the groin while sitting on his privy. A shameful death for a man of his high standing, isn’t it?”

“That is still too good of a death for him,” Arya replied angrily.”But it is good that he is dead. It will make things easier. I don’t like the Imp, but if it is true what he says then I won’t kill him…and maybe he can be useful. He knows me and can confirm who I am.”

“I am sure he will be pleased to do that…,” Dany began and wanted to add something, but then she heard a whimper. Rhaella was standing up in her crib, her cheeks flushed.

Dany hopped to her feet and lifted her daughter out of the crib and kept rocking her in her arms, before she settled herself back down on the ground next to Jon.

Arya gave her cousin a funny look, a mix between curiosity and fear.

“I forgot to ask?” the girl asked her.”What is her name?”

Dany smiled sweetly.

“Rhaella, for my Lady mother,” she explained and Arya gave the girl a smile.”Well met, Rhaella.”

…

Benjen

Benjen hand twitched in anticipation as he watched the riders from the distance. Behind them fluttered the banner of House Umber. Mors Umber was the first person he recognized. Behind him rode a dozen of men armed with spears, surrounding a woman on a horse. She was quite tall and graced with shaggy brown hair, but it was not her appearance that made him gasp in relief.

Perched in front of her sat a boy, not older than seven, all red-haired and blue eyed like his brother’s wife. It was not hard to see the Tully in the boy. He looked so much like Robb that it made his heart ache, thought the boy carried grim look while Robb had been a rather jolly fellow in his youth.

Yet the boy was unmistakably his nephew, for only moments later a massive wolf came trailing after them. He was black like the night and eyes were bright green.

Benjen couldn’t speak. His mouth felt dry as his gaze fell upon the boy and the Lady.

Osha is her name, he knew. Mors Umber told her much about her. She has been taking care of the boy since they fled Winterfell.

“I bring your nephew Rickon Stark, Lord Commander,” Mors Umber declared with a smile showing through his bushy beard.

Benjen smiled down at the boy, but he remained grim and mistrustful, clinging to Osha’s pelt.

“Come along little Lord,” he heard the woman whisper as she crawled from the horse, the clinging hanging around her neck like a monkey.

Then she jerked her head towards Benjen.”Your Uncle awaits you.”

“I don’t want my Uncle! I want my Father and my Lady Mother!” he protested, his eyes narrowed and shining with angry tears.”You promised!”

Osha gave Benjen an apologetic smile and let her hands wander through the boy’s curls.

“As I have already explained to you…they won’t come back, but your Uncle is here and he wants to help you go home again,” she explained, but Rickon seemed to disagree.

 “I have no home!” he shouted, his blue eyes burning into Benjen.”Theon burned it down!”

“I know, my boy,” Benjen said and bridged the distance.”But Winterfell’s walls are strong and can be rebuilt. All will be like before.”

“It will never be like before,” the boy sobbed, the grimace on his face softening. His direwolf was now coming to his side, licking the tears from his cheek.”They are all gone. Mother, Father, Robb, Sansa, Arya and even Bran went to the stupid crow. I hate them and I hate Winterfell. I don’t ever want to go back there. Do you hear me…,” he continued to rant, before his voice stopped him and Benjen embraced him.

With his head buried in Benjen’s cloak he kept on whimpering.

“Now little Lord,” Osha and moved to their side.”Dry your tears and let us go inside. It was a long ride and you are in need of rest. I am sure there will be a warm supper awaiting us and Shaggy is also hungry.”

Rickon let go of Benjen and brushed the tears from his cheeks. His face flushed, but now he looked more like the child Benjen recalled from his last visit to Winterfell.

 “Do you have meat?” Rickon asked then.”Shaggy is always very hungry.”

Benjen nodded his head and touched the boy’s cheek.

“We have plenty of meat. The Wildlings are good hunters and have been helping us to prepare for winter,” he explained and his eyes darted to Osha and Mors Umbers.

“My Lord,” he said and dipped his head.”I am thankful that you brought my nephew here. I am expecting the others to join us soon, but now I want to use to time to speak with my nephew. Lady Osha may accompany me. No harm shall come to her.”

“As you wish, my Lord” Mors Umbers replied.

“I am no Lady, but I am thankful. I will still keep my dagger close…I don’t trust you crows,” Osha added and grasped Rickon’s arm.”I hope you don’t mind?”

Benjen laughed.

“The other spearwives are much the same. Keep that dagger, but hide it well. My men won’t like it if I show the Wildlings too much kindness.”

Osha gave him an amused smile.

“Good to know that crows can be honest,” she replied and gave him amused smile.”Well, lead the way, Lord Crow.”

“It would be my pleasure,” he replied and led them to the chamber prepared for them.

“It is not very spacious,” Benjen told them and jerked his head to the small hearth.”But it’s warm and you got plenty of fire. I hope it is no bother.”

Osha grinned, showing her slightly crooked teeth.

“The little Lord is no pampered little boy…I made sure about that,” she explained and poked Rickon in the side, which made him laugh.

“Aye, it is true,” he explained.”I can sleep everywhere as long as Osha and Shaggy are with me.”

“That is good,” he explained and settled down on the chair next hearth.”But here you have a proper bed and when you return to Winterfell you will be a high Lord. There will be no need for you to sleep on the floor…Do you understand what I am trying to tell you, Rickon?”

The boy nodded, buying his fingers deep in Shaggy’s fur.

“Osha told before coming here that they want me to be a Lord, but I don’t care. I want to stay with Osha and the other Wildlings.”

“Aye,” she told him and ruffled her hand through his hair.”You are no Wildling but a Northman and when you stay with us Bran will not know where to find you. Don’t you want to go back to Winterfell and wait there for him?”

He grew quiet for a moment and then he nodded his head.

“Do you really think he is coming back?”

“I think so,” Benjen told his nephew.”I was also lost beyond the Wall, but this Three-Eyed-Crow saved my life and sent me back here so I can meet you. I met Bran along the way and I left him in company of a man who saved me numerous times. Bran is brave and smart. He will find a way.”

Both Rickon and Osha gave him a stunned look.

“You met them and you met this Three-Eyed-Crow?” Osha asked.

Benjen kept stirring the fire.

“I did meet him and I saw them too.”

“Them?” Rickon asked.

“The Others,” Osha explained.

Benjen nodded his head in confirmation.

”That is why I allowed the Wildlings to pass the Wall. I am trying to prepare us for the coming battle, but the Night’s Watch and the Wildlings can’t are not enough. We will have need of the North…a united North. That is why we have to defeat the Boltons and retake Winterfell.”

 “Do you hear that?” Osha asked and patted Rickon’s shoulder.”Your Uncle and Bran have their task and you have yours. You have to retake Winterfell and be a proper Lord.”

Rickon frowned, but there was also acceptance showing on his face.

 “I will be the Lord but only until Bran comes back.”

“I am sure Bran would be happy to hear that you are keeping his seat warm for him.”

…

Chapter Text

Alayne

The wedding was a simple affair, but was no surprise. Lord Hardyng may be the heir the Vale, but is a man without much wealth. He has been dependent on his grandmother since he lost his mother and father at an early age.

Maybe we are not so much different from each other, Sansa thought and the pity she felt helped to soften her heart towards the cocky young man. Yet pity is not love, but after her disastrous infatuation with Joff and her humiliating marriage to Lord Tyrion she never expected to find love anyway.

I need him to go home and I need him to get rid of Littlefinger, this she knew, but it didn’t make it any easier for her.

The memory of her wedding to Lord Tyrion was still very much alive in her mind. The whole event was accompanied by Joff’s cruelty and even though Lord Tyrion proved kind to her she was unable to do her duty. It was her luck that her former husband was not the monster everyone believed him to be.

Silly girl. He was never your husband, she reminded herself and smoothed her dress as she shifted her attention to the Septon. It was made of white wool and accompanied by a maiden cloak devoid of any precious ornaments.

Not that it mattered. All of this was part of Lord Baelish calculations.

To most of the assembled Lords I am still a bastard, but soon they will know the truth.

This was also part of Lord Baelish’s plans, but Sansa wasn’t idle. She cooked up her own plan.

I will not be his little bird, she told herself before repeating the words of the Septon.

Then Lord Hardyng hoisted her cloak from her shoulders to exchange it with his own made of red and white, the colors of his House. If Sansa had her way it will soon be swapped to blue and white. The sigil of House Arryn.

Then the Septon raised his crystal, pronouncing them husband and wife. It were the same blessings spoken on her wedding to Lord Tyrion, but they meant nothing to her. The Seven were her mother’s gods, but they didn’t care when she got murdered by the Freys. The Old Gods didn’t prove any better. They didn’t save her father from the executioner’s block.

It was true what Lord Baelish once told her when she was particularly sad about her mother’s and brother’s death.

Vows are words and words are wind, my Lady.

“With this kiss I pledge my love,” she heard Lord Hardyng say, his face a mask of indifference as he placed a kiss on her lips. He agreed to her masquerade, but that didn’t mean he was happy about playing along.

He is only doing this because he needs me to gain power. I am the key to Winterfell. The last trueborn Stark.

Afterwards they emerged from the Sept to attend the wedding feast. It was not as splendid as the one held for her and Lord Tyrion in King’s Landing, but that was to be expected. The Waynwood’s are not rich and most of the wedding was paid by Lord Baelish.

I will not waste too much coin on this Hardyng fool, he had told her after she came to him one evening pretending to be distraught over her impending wedding with Lord Hardyng.

The memory still made her shudder, because Lord Baelish had pulled her into his lap and kissed her on the lips. It was not the way a father ought to kiss a daughter, but she complied to keep up her masquerade. She needed him to believe that his cruel game with her and Lord Hardyng was successful.

Thus the evening passed. The food served was pleasant enough, among it mutton and onions baked in pastry, several roasted pigs arranged with candied apples and pears, lamprey with pepper all garnished with cinnamon and garlic. There was even lemon cake, but she had no taste for it, unlike the guests.

She knew them all by name and at least half of them owed Lord Baelish. Only Lord Royce didn’t hide his open contempt.

She asked Lord Hardyng to relay a massage to him in her name, but she hasn’t been able to speak with him so far. However, the fact that Lord Royce even attended the wedding was a good sign.

He will help us, she told herself and continued to watch the guests dance. Her younger self would have rejoiced to dance all night, but now she felt no joy in the prospect of it. Later she shared a brief dance with Lord Hardyng, but they soon returned to their seats and continued ignoring each other.

Truly, the young man was good at showing his indifference to her and she sometimes wondered if it was really an act.

Not a very fruitful beginning for a marriage, she thought and sipped on her goblet as the minstrel started to play up the more bawdy songs. The Bear and the Maiden Fair and the Dornishman’s wife were among them while Sansa prepared herself for the inevitable…

She was afraid, but also eerily calm as the male attendance escorted her to her nuptial chambers. It felt like the calmness before a terrible snowstorm.

Lord Hardyng soon joined, escorted by the female attendance, a giggling herd of hens drunken on mulled wine. Among them was her friend Randa, who flashed her a quick smile, before following after the others.

Then they were alone, a tense silence starting to stretch between them.

Lord Hardyng’s facial expression could only be described as grim.

“Now tell me,” he asked of her, a hint of anger ringing in his voice.”What will be the next act in this mummery?”

Sansa exhaled deeply and forced a smile on her lips.

“I will tell you, but first tell me about Lord Royce’s reaction to my massage,” she added.”Did you tell him everything as I instructed you?”

“I did,” he grumbled.”He was very upset about this masquerade and very shocked by the things you told me. Even I have a hard time believing all of this. Is half of it even true?”

“Aye,” she replied and shook her head.”It was Lord Baelish who murdered Aunt Lysa and now he is trying to poison Sweetrobin, though I doubt he will give him the fatal blow until I am with child. The bottle I stole from Maester Coleman should be proof enough. He has several more of them hidden in his chambers.”

“Lord Royce asked his Maester to take a look at the bottle. It is a slow poison poisonous that this Maester Coleman is feeding my supposed cousin,” Lord Hardyng remarked.”I assume he would have used a more potent one for me?”

Sansa nodded her head.

“Not necessarily potent, but inconspicuous. I know from Lady Lysa’s mouth that he gave her Tears of Lys to poison Lord Arryn. Most believed that he died from a stomach ailment.”

“So we all thought,” Lord Hardyng remarked, his green-blue eyes fixed at her.”And what you told me about my supposed cousin…Is he really Lord Baelish’s bastard?”

She couldn’t help but to laugh, hiding the truth deep inside her heart. She was unable to say if Lord Sweetrobin is of Lord Arryn’s or Lord Belish’s, but the truth is of no consequence.

A well-planted lie is better than the truth.

Lord Baelish told her this himself.

Besides, the boy is unfit to rule and knowing his rash temper he could very well grow into another Joffrey. Making him a bastard will rob Lord Baelish off his most useful pawn and save the boy’s life.

As Lady of the Vale I will make sure that he will have a good life. He may not be Lord of the Vale, but he will not lack any comfort and have all his favorite toys. I may even send him to Winterfell to be raised with one of my future heirs.

“I asked you a question, my Lady?” Lord Hardyng asked demandingly.

She nodded her head in confirmation.

“Lady Lysa has been lusting for Lord Baelish since her youth and they had plenty of opportunity. I know from Lord Baelish that Aunt Lysa often spent several moons at court. If Cersei Lannister can cuckold King Robert why shouldn’t Lord Baelish be able to do the same? Do you understand, my Lord?”

A moment of heavy silence passed, but his nod of acceptance told her everything she needed to know.

“I understand, but I don’t like this mummery,” he muttered.

“I know,” she told him and flashed him a determined look, before pulling her white dress from her shoulders.”Now do your duty and don’t be gentle. You know I need to sell this mummery to Lord Baelish. Your reward will be plenty. Our future son will be heir to two kingdoms.”

He grimaced.

”I will do no such thing. Tell Lord Baelish what you want, but I am no a brute. If you are searching for someone like that you may go and find yourself another fool.”

“I never meant…,” she apologized, but her words failed her when she saw the raw anger displayed on his face. It was the first time that she saw him as something other than the means to an end.

“Aye, you did,” Lord Hardyng said.”It was wrong of me to treat you like I did, but I apologize for that. I know what you think of me…that I am an easy man for fathering two bastards. Yet what you don’t know is that I was quite devoted to the Lady. She is a merchant’s daughter and thus not eligible for me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I held affections for her. My grandmother didn’t allow me to wed the Lady I was devoted to, but wanted me to marry Lord Baelish’s bastard daughter. That is why I was against our match and acted like I did.”

“I see,” Sansa said and felt like slapped.”I thought you simply hated me for being a bastard.”

“I hated you because you were Lord Baelish’s bastard…a man I don’t trust and because I was deprived of my own choices.”

“And now?” she asked, her voice strangely soft to ears.”Do you still hate me?”

“I don’t know,” he replied and frowned.”My grudge was for Alayne Stone, not for Sansa Stark.”

“Good,” she told him and gave him an encouraging smile.”Then be gentle, my Lord. I will weep my false tears before Lord Baelish by thinking about my father’s ignoble death.”

A death that I caused.

…

Arya

Arya feasted on the fish as if it was her last supper. She has spent days without proper food as she waited to take the Dragon Queen’s life. Now she was here, enjoying the woman’s hospitality.

She is my brother’s lady, she reminded herself and washed down the food with a goblet of mulled wine.

“There is no mistake,” the Imp remarked and regarded her with wide eyes.”You truly are Lady Arya Stark. No wonder we weren’t able to find you. Have you been hiding in Braavos since your father’s death?”

Arya shook her head.

“I have been on the run for nearly a year before I came here half a year ago,” she replied and took a bite from the bread.”But I prefer not to talk about this time. I told the whole tale to your Queen and my brother, but I don’t want to repeat my tale of woe to a man who once belonged to the enemy.”

Her words made the Imp chuckle.

“Well, I can see that you have your Lord Father’s honesty…,” he began, but she cut him off. He may not have killed his father, but he was still a Lannister and had no right to speak about him.

“My father is dead and Joffrey as well. However, Queen Cersei lives. She is on my list and I will kill her if I ever get the chance. Does that bother you?”

His eyes widened and his smile faded at once. She saw both anger and surprise displayed on his features.

“I hate my sister,” the Imp admitted after a moment of silence.”It hate her even more than I hated my father. You can have her head for all I care. My brother, niece and nephew are another matter.”

She couldn’t help but to frown.

Did he really think that she would want to murder innocent children? And the Kingslayer didn’t mean anything to her.

“I only want your sister,” she declared and saw a hint of relief washing over the Imp’s face.

“Good,” the Imp said and took a sip from his wine, before spending a moment to contemplate his next words.”But getting revenge is hopefully not the only thing you are seeing in your future, Lady Arya?”

“I am no Lady,” she corrected him quickly.”And speak clearly. I have no patience for your riddles.”

He laughed and circulated the goblet between his hands.

“Truly, you are your father’s daughter,” he said and glimpsed over to Jon and Daenerys.

“You are the last living Stark we know of. If we are not able to find your sister Sansa you are the rightful Lady of Winterfell. Having you with us will make it easier to win the Lords of the North to our cause.”

The Imp’s words surprised her. She has never thought of herself as heir to Winterfell.

“Jon is my father’s last living son,” she countered.”He may be a bastard, but he is also half a Stark like me. He can be the Lord and even King if he weds your Queen.”

Her words seemed to confuse the Imp and he gave Daenerys and Jon a questioning look.

“She doesn’t know,” Jon said.”We haven’t told her yet.”

His words confused her and she inclined her head to look at Jon.

“What didn’t you tell me?” she asked and Jon paled visibly.

“That…,” he stuttered and exhaled deeply before answering.”That I am not your father’s son.”

That is a lie, was the first thing that came to her mind, but when she regarded Jon’s face she saw no such signs. He is honest.

“But why would father lie?”

“In truth I am Lady Lyanna Stark’s and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen’s son. My mother wasn’t raped and murdered by the Dragon Prince. They loved each other and ran off together. Your father lied to protect me from King Robert. I am sure you heard what happened to Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon.”

They were butchered, she knew and recalled her father’s anger when he had recounted the story to Robb and Theon. She shuddered, but understood. Her father would do everything to protect his blood. When he confessed treason at the Sept of Baelor it was probably for the same reason.

To protect me and Sansa, she knew but the tears still came.

“Then you are my cousin and a royal bastard,” she stated, but the expression taking hold of the Princess’ face told her otherwise.

“My brother Prince Rhaegar made Lady Lyanna his second wife,” Princess Daenerys explained.”By Targaryen standards that makes Jon my brother’s rightful heir.”

She understood, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

“I see,” Arya said and bowed her head in acceptance.”It also means will have to be the Lady of Winterfell. Well, I agree, but I won’t wear a dress and embellish handkerchiefs.”

The Imp wrinkled his brows and the Princess chuckled.

“I doubt stitching is a requirement to become Lady of Winterfell, but I am not going to lie to you. The topic of marriage will come up for sure.”

“I will not marry against my will,” she countered quickly and pulled out her blade.”Force me and said lord will leave our nuptial chambers without a cock.”

“Arya,” the Princess’ added gently and touched her shoulder.”Nobody expects you to marry now. Besides, as a Lady of Winterfell you will have a certain freedom in choosing your husband. I am sure you will find someone that suits your taste.”

 She is not wrong, Arya thought, but still disliked the idea of marriage. We will need the support of my father’s lords.

“I understand,” she forced the words over her lips.”I will play the Lady, but only to defeat the Freys and the Boltons.”

“I thank you,” Jon told squeezed her hand.”I promise you…you won’t be forced into a marriage against your will.”

She laughed and smoothed her fingers over the slender blade.

“Don’t fret about it, Jon,” she assured him with a smile.”I know how to take care of myself.”

“A fierce Lady of Winterfell we found ourselves!” Tyrion agreed in a jesting manner, his eyes alight with humor. His strange eyes woke an almost forgotten memory…

Lanna, she recalled and an idea bloomed in her mind.

“Indeed,” she agreed and gave the Imp a knowing smile.”But before I came here I took many roles. Once I was a young girl training as a courtesan in a place called Happy Port. There I met a lovely the men like to call the second Shiera Seastar. She has your eyes, but Queen Cersei’s slanted nose and full lips.”

Jon clearly wanted to make his anger known, but quick Arya was quick to silence him with her words.

“Nobody ever touched me there,” she told him before shifting her attention back to the Imp.

The Imp was utterly silent. Then he shuddered and the goblet in his hand dropped to the ground. It made a clinking sound and soon a crimson puddle started to spread on the floor.

The Imp’s stared at her with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out for a long time.

“I once asked my father where whores go,” the Imp said, a sad smile curling on his lips and tears rolling down his cheeks.”It seems I finally found my answer. Please tell me…Is the mother of this lovely girl still alive?”

“No,” Arya replied and felt regret washing over her.”But I can bring you to the lovely girl.”

...

Chapter Text

Jon

They received strange looks as they entered the brothel named Happy Port, but that was no surprise to Jon. They were two knights, a small dwarf and a young girl, truly a strange picture to behold.

“I am Mistress Meralyn,” one of the ladies greeted them. She was older than the others, but might have once been quite the beauty. Her bosom was also quite big and revealing.”What can I do for you?”

Jon cleared his throat to answer, but Arya was quicker than him.

“We want to speak with Lanna,” she explained, her voice taking an almost sweet tone.”It is rather important.”

“Lanna has her duties to attend to,” Mistress Meralyn replied strictly.”I can't have her waste time one customers who don't want to spend coin."

“If coin is the problem then I am able to help you,” Lord Tyrion added sourly and pulled out a bag of coins.

The woman’s face lightened up like a room full of candles as she regarded the bag of coins.

“Of course,” she said and winked at one of the girls.”Get Lanna here at once.”

“But she is occupied,” the girl protested and earned herself a slap on the head.

“That fucking singer of hers has been wasting our entire stock of wine. It is time she earns us a bit coin.”

“Of course, Mistress!” the girl exclaimed and rubbed the back of her head.”At once!”

After he girl had left Mistress Meralyn asked another girl to show them to a table. Jon wanted nothing more than to get away from this place, but Lord Tyrion asked him kindly to accompany. Thus they ordered wine and a bowl of plum cakes to divert the time.

A while later the other girl came down in company of an even younger girl that matched the lovely description Arya gave to Lord Tyrion. Truly, a sculptor couldn’t have fashioned a finer face. Her golden hair and strangely-colored eyes only helped to increase her beauty.

The Second Shiera Seastar, Arya had called her and Jon had to agree.

As the girl approached the table she gave each of them a curious look.

“How may I serve?” she asked and bowed her head.”Do you care for a song? Or something else?”

Lord Tyrion opened his mouth, but no sound could be heard.

Arya took her initiative.

“Lanna,” she addressed the girl and smiled sweetly.”Do you remember me?”

”Cat…is that you?” the girl named Lanna asked, her eyes widening in recognition.”When you stopped coming here, we thought you had died.”

“I didn’t die, but had to take on another role,” Arya explained and grinned.”Once I was Cat of the Canals, the girl who brought you fresh mussels and not a very long time ago I was a courtesan-in-training named Diara.”

Lanna’s appeared utterly confused.

“My face is different now, but my voice…Do you hear the similarity?”

“I hear it now,” Lanna replied and gasped.”How?”

“I was training as a Faceless man,” Arya added and when she saw the fear washing over the girl’s face she quickly explained her current situation.”But I am no longer with them…you don’t have to be afraid of me. In fact I am here to bring you happy news..”

“Happy news?” the Lanna asked and Lord Tyrion finally found the strength to speak.

“He is talking about me,” he told her, his small body trembling as he regarded the lovely girl.”He is talking about me.”

Lanna cocked her head and eyed Tyrion with great curiosity, but no recognition showed on her face, but that was no surprise to Jon . Lord Tyrion was as ugly as the girl was beautiful. Truly, the girl’s mother must have been a rare beauty.

“And you are?” Lanna asked, a polite smile showing on her lips.”Have we met before?”

“No,” Lord Tyrion replied.”But I knew your mother, sweet child. Her name was Tysha, a crofter’s daughter. I and my brother saved. I married her shortly after.”

Lanna gasped and grabbed the table.

“That can't be.”

Lord Tyrion smiled sadly.

”But it is true…I am Lord Tyrion Lannister, the cursed son of Tywin Lannister, Lord of the Westerlands and Casterly Rock.”

Lanna nearly collapsed under the table, but Ser Barristan was able to catch her.

“That can’t be true…,” Lanna stuttered, tears brimming in her strange eyes.”I can’t be true.”

Lord Tyrion appeared disheartened.

“I am not surprised that you are disappointed,” Lord Tyrion remarked in a trembling voice.”Most people..."

“Mother told me that you are a dwarf,” Lanna corrected herself and leaned closer. Arya rose to her feet to make space for her.”I am just stunned…it is a like a dream come true.”

“Dream come true?” Lord Tyrion asked and looked like he didn’t quite believe his ears.

“Of course,” Lanna exclaimed and fell down to her knees to grasp Lord Tyrion’s hands in her own.”I always wanted to find you, but mother told me that it is too dangerous. She thought your Lord Father would kill us.”

Lord Tyrion pulled her hands to his lips and kissed them. Tears were now rolling freely down his cheeks as he regarded the girl with a loving smile.

“He would have done much worse,” Lord Tyrion told her.”Your mother was smart to keep you away from me.”

Lanna flushed.

“She was smart and kind and beautiful,” Lanna told him.”She also disliked that we had to live here.”

“You won’t have continue living here,” Lord Tyrion assured her.”We will buy you free and take you home to Westeros.”

“But your father,” Lanna protested, but Lord Tyrion cut her off.

“My father is dead and I am now in service of Princess Daenerys Targaryen. We will soon sail for Westeros and you may come with with us. I can’t force you, but I did wrong by your mother and I want to make it up to you. You can’t be an heir to the Lannister fortune, but I will make sure that you have everything you need…What do you say?”

Lanna smiled, stunned to silence. It seems Lord Tyrion’s offer overwhelmed her.

“Lord Tyrion,” Jon said and touched his shoulder.”I think you are overwhelming the girl. Maybe you should speak in private.”

“Of course,” Lord Tyrion agreed.”Do you have a private place to speak?”

Lanna nodded her head, her golden locks falling around her head like a curtain of gold.

“Upstairs is a private solar...I doubt the Mistress will take offence to it as long as you paid.

“Then lead the way,” Lord Tyrion replied and took her hand, before leaving them.

Jon, Arya and Ser Barristan remained behind ordered another bowl of wine. Later one of the girls came to keep them company and played them a few songs on her lute.

Thus hours passed and Jon observed the coming and the going of the guests, but soon they were the only remaining guests, safe for a chubby young man and a girl with a babe.

Jon doubted the girl was one of the girls. The way she interacted with the chubby boy made them appear like a married couple.

“Oh, those are our strange guests,” the girl with the lute remarked.”They have been residing here for nearly two weeks, because their ship is in dire need of repairs…that is at least what his friend the singer told me when he was sleeping in my lap.”

“They are not strange,” Arya added, recognition showing on her face.”The young man is named Samwell Tarley and the girl is named Gilly. He is a member of the Night’s Watch and on his way to Oldtown to train as a Maester.”

You know him, Jon wanted to ask but then he recalled that Arya trained here as a courtesan.

“Tarly?” Ser Barristan asked, his eyes darting to the young man.”The son of Randyll Tarly?”

“Maybe,” Arya replied.”We didn't talk about his father, but he met our Uncle Benjen. He is now Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.”

Jon knew that he had another Uncle named Benjen, but he didn’t know that he was a member of the Night’s Watch.

“Truly?” Jon asked.”Do you think he would mind if we speak to him?"

Arya shrugged her shoulders.

“The boy is quite frightful and I doubt he recalls me.”

“I doubt I will frighten him,” Jon replied and carefully approached the young man.

“Forgive me,” Jon addressed the boy politely.”Are you Samwell Tarly?”

The boy’s eyes widened and for a moment Jon feared his eyes might drop out of his head.

“I am…but…you…look,” he stuttered and nearly threw his bowl of soup on the floor.

“You look like the Lord Commander,” the girl named Gilly answered for her stuttering companion.”You have a similar face.”

Jon shouldn't be surprised. Even Daenerys, who had never met Arya, recognized the resemblance.

“That makes sense. The Lord Commander is my Uncle…in Westeros I am known as Ser Jon Sand, bastard son of Eddard Stark and Lady Ashara Dayne.”

“Oh,” the young man said, his face still frozen in surprise. The girl named Gilly only laughed.

“Your Uncle will be happy,” Samwell Tarly said at last.”He was very sad to hear about your family’s misfortune, but he also failed to mention you…What are you doing here in Essos, good Sir?”

“We have never met,” Jon explained.”I am in company of Princess Daenerys Targaryen.”

No reply came for a long time. Gilly and Samwell Tarly only exchanged a quiet nod, before Samwell shifted his attention back to Jon.

“Targaryen?”

“Aye,” Jon confirmed.”Have you heard of her?”

Samwell Tarly swallowed hard and nodded his head in confirmation.

“I have…from the mouth of her relative…Maester Aemon Targaryen…he is one of our travelling companions.”

…

Daenerys

Daenerys' heart hammered wildly as she climbed up the stairwell. When Jon found her Grand-Uncle Aemon in a brothel in Braavos she asked him if he is sporting a fever, but when then Jon is not the kind of man who would lie about something like that.

“Your Grace,” the chubby boy named Samwell Tarly greeted her at the entrance of his room.”Maester Aemon was sick, but he has recently recovered from a feve. You are very lucky that the repair of our ship got delayed.”

“The god’s be blessed,” it escaped her and she granted the young man a soft smile.”Does he know about us?”

“No,” Samwell Tarly replied.”Jon asked of us to keep the details to ourselves. He only knows that visitors are coming to see him. Please be gentle to him or his heart might give out. He has been speaking about finding you since we left home."

His word made her heart clenched in pain and happiness.

“He really told you that?” she asked disbelievingly.

“Aye,” Samwell Tarly confirmed.”He told me that a Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing”

Daenerys gasped and had a hard time keeping her tears at bay.

Rocking Rhaella in her arms certainly helped and Jon’s comforting touch on her shoulder even more.

“We should go inside,” Jon added in a gentle voice.

Samwell Tarly nodded his head and led them inside. There was table stacked with books and a very old man covered in furs. He had the appearance of a fragile child.

“Who is there?” the old man asked, his voice strained like cracking paper.”Samwell?”

“It is me,” Samwell Tarly confirmed softly.”I am bringing the promised guests.”

The old Maester wrinkled his brows and laughed.

“I recall, but I am still surprised that anyone would want to visit me. I don’t know anyone from Braavos.”

“We are not from Braavos,” Daenerys forced the words over her lips. Her heart was beating so fast she was barely able to breathe.”We came a long way, good Maester.”

The man’s unseeing eyes widened in confusion.

“Please come closer…I can’t hear you,” he asked of her and it only took the blink of a moment before she was next to him, settling down on an unoccupied chair.

“Please speak again,” he asked of her, but she was unable to give a direct answer.

Instead she took his wrinkled hands in her own and squeezed them lightly.

“When I was a little girl my brother and I traveled throughout all of Essos ...my brother wanted nothing more than to regain his family’s crown, but in the end his quest for power turned him mad and cruel. He died by my first husband’s hands, but even my cruel brother would been happy to meet you, good Maester.”

A long moment of silence passed, the man’s unseeing eyes frozen in time.

“Please…!” the old man stuttered, his voice raw with emotion.”Allow me to touch your face. I beg you...!”

“Of course,” she replied, biting her lips to keep her tears at bay. Then she brought his wrinkled hand to her face.

In silence the old Measter’s fingers traced over her brow, her nose, her cheeks and then her chin.

The old man grinned. He had no teeth, but his smile was as bright as a star.

“You have my sister chin and slanted nose,” he declared, tears running down his old marred face.”Is that a dream?”

“No,” she told him and touched his cheek.”I am real, but I would understand if you don’t believe me. I never thought I would meet another member of my family.”

Her words washed away his smile.

“Soon you will be the last,” he told her.”I am old…I will not live…,” he continued, but Daenerys cut him off before he was able to finish. She didn't want to hear it.

“Don’t fret,” she whispered and brought Rhaella's hand to his.”I am not alone…I have a child. This here is Rhaella…I named her after my Lady mother.”

“Rhaella,” the old man repeated and fresh tears rolled down his cheeks as he enclosed Rhaella’s small hand.”The god’s be blessed…now I can die a happy man…”

“Nonsense,” she told him.”You won’t die. You will live for another hundred years…”

“I wish it were so…,” he whispered.”Winter is almost upon us and I won’t be able to help you…tell me…Did you really wake dragon’s from stone, child?”

“I did,” she confirmed.”When you are better you can meet them. You might not be able to see them, but they can be quite loud.”

He gasped.

”I am glad…that Egg’s dream came true.”

“Egg?” Jon asked then.”Who is that?”

The old Maester wrinkled his brows in confusion, but Daenerys was quick to introduce Jon. In all her happiness she had forgotten about the secret that sill needed to be revealed.

“That is Jon,” she explained the Maester and squeezed his hand.”He is Rhaella’s father.”

The Maester jerked his head in Jon's direction and smiled.

“A pleasure to meet you," he said and dipped his head."Would you mind tell me your full name…there is many a man who goes by that name.”

“Aye,” Jon replied hesitatingly and settled down next to her.”My name is quite plain…In Westeros I am known as Ser Jon Sand, bastard son of Eddard Stark and Lady Ashara Dayne.”

The old man’s face lightened up in happiness.

“A Stark and a Dayne,” he said.”That is a strange combination, but it makes us kin. My mother was Lady Dyanna Dayne. My brother Egg…no…King Aegon the Unlikely loved her dearly and wept many tears after her untimely death.”

“Egg,” Daenerys replied and couldn't help but to laughed.”What a silly name.”

Maester Aemon chuckled.

”Egg was a silly boy in his youth, but we all loved him dearly. He didn’t want to be King and tried his best, but his greatest dream was always to bring dragons back into this world. He died during his last attempt.”

“The Tragedy of Summerhall,” Jon added.”Then it is true…They tried to hatch dragons, didn’t they?”

“They did and nearly wiped out our entire house,” Maester Aemon replied.”I never thought it possible…How did you accomplish it, my child?”

“I am not sure,” she replied vaguely.”A maegi helped us, but I doubt I would be able to repeat it.”

“Regrettable,” Maester Aemon whispered and sounded slightly disappointed.”We are few now, but the rebirth of the dragons is a good sign, though it would have been better if your brother Rhaegar had lived.”

“Maybe,” she agreed."But there is one more of us. He is here.”

“Does Rhaella have a sibling?” the old Maester asked, his voice ringing with curiosity.

“No,” Daenerys replied.”But on my travels I met someone…Rhaegar’s second son born to Lady Lyanna Stark.”

“Truly?” the old Maester gasped.”Then it is true…your brother never harmed her, did he?”

“No,” Jon added in a trembling voice and gently led the Measters’ hand to his face.”They loved each other and Prince Rhaegar took Lady Lyanna as her second wife. Sadly, Prince Rhaegar was slain in battle and Lady Lyanna perished in childbirth. To protect her son Lord Stark dishonored himself and named the boy his bastard fathered on Ashara Dayne. They protected me.”

“Goods be good,” the Maester muttered and smoothed his hand over Jon’s face.”It is true.”

“Tell me…What coloring do you have?”

“I have dark hair and grey eyes…the Stark coloring,” Jon explained softly.

“Then you are very lucky,” Maester Aemon said and let go of his face.”You have much of my brother Egg, but that doesn't surprise me…Prince Rhaegar took after him.”

“I am lucky indeed,” Jon agreed.

“I shouldn't have said lucky,” Maester Aemon corrected himself.”This is a miracle. Tell me…Did you intentionally seek out Princess Daenerys?”

“No, it was a pure coincidence. Prince Doran sent me to relay an offer of marriage to Princess Daenerys and Prince Viserys. Prince Viserys refused, but I remained in Daenerys service. After Daenerys' first husband died we fled through the Dothraki Sea and after many tribulations we made it here. I didn’t even know about my true birth until Lady Ashara found me to tell me. We will soon sail for Westeros to reclaim the Iron Throne…you should come with us. I know that you are sworn to the Night’s Watch, but you are old and I doubt anyone would dare to call you a deserter. You served long enough.”

The old man laughed.

“One never stops to serve," the old man replied and laughed."I will go to the Citadel as your Uncle bid me.”

“But Uncle...” Daenerys protested, but stopped herself when he patted her hand.

“We all have our duties, child. If your nephew you takes the throne he will need a Queen, not an old man like me.”

“You are making me a Queen when we are not even wed,” I escaped her, fresh tears falling from her cheeks.

The old Maester wrinkled his brows in confusion.

“Why is that? Your first husband is dead, isn’t he? Is there another impediment?”

Jon paled and Daenerys chuckled.

“Not an impediment,” she replied.”It is just that we didn't have the honor to encounter a Septon on our travels through Essos. Jon thought it better to marry in Dorne."

“Oh, we have one of those Septons here,” Gilly added excitedly as she and Samwell Tarly have been listening to their conversation from the corner of the room.”He comes here nearly every day to wed the girls to the customers. I find this concept quite odd, but it is true. The Septon even offered to wed me to Sam."

“Is that true?” Daenerys asked. She knew what a Septon was, but she didn't know that they offered their service to brothels. Well, we have encountered stranger things.

“It is true,” Samwell Tarly confirmed, but looked rather embarrassed.”The man is a true Septon. He was able to recite the entire Seven-Pointed Star and told me that he is here as missionary."

“Did you hear that?” she asked and laughed when she saw Jon’s frown. He thinks it inappropriate, she was sure but wanted it done before going to Dorne. At least that way Prince Doran Martell wouldn’t be able to make up excuses.”It seems we finally found a Septon.”

“This man man is marrying courtesan’s to their customers,” Jon protested, but Daenerys was quick to counter is argument.”We will have a proper wedding. I know you like Prince Doran, but he is a stranger to me. What if he refuses to help us unless you marry Princess Arianne? It is not ideal, but Ser Barristan and Lord Tyrion will be there to witness it. Nobody will be able to deny his word."

“And I will send a documentation of the marriage to the Citadel,” Maester Aemon added.”Nobody there will doubt my word. They respect age over wisdom.”

Jon sighed and smiled.

“Very well.”

…

Chapter Text

Daenerys

The Septon was really looked the part. He was a tall man with grizzly grey hair and blinking dark eyes. Daenerys didn’t know much about proper wedding ceremonies and she was not able to say if he is doing it right, but she was sure Jon would tell.

As the old Septon continued to read from book the the girls of Happy Port, Mistress Meralyn, Samwell Tarly, Gilly, Lord Tyrion Lannister, Ser Barristan and her Grand-Uncle stood as their witnesses. The girls of Happy Port even offered her a wide variety of flowers braid into her hair and dressed themselves up for the occasion. It was quite a ridiculous sight to behold, but something she has been longing for a long time.

The rambling of the Septon continued a while longer and then he made them repeat the names of the Seven. Viserys thought them to her when she was a little girl, but they meant as little to her as to her brother. They were like the discarded statues guarding Vaes Dothrak.

“Father, Smith, Worrior …Mother, Maiden, and Stranger,” they repeated in unison.”I am hers and she is mine…from this day till the end of our days.”

Then Jon placed a kiss to her lips and the ceremony was done. It was so simple, but it took them long enough.

Clapping and congratulations followed, though Daenerys doubted the girls understood the significance of this ceremony. In a year from now Happy Port might be most famous brothel in all of Braavos, she thought with amusement.

Her brother would have raged if he saw her like this, celebrating a wedding in a brothel, but Daenerys felt much closer to them than to all highborn ladies she is going to meet in Westeros.

Besides, they were quite a merry group. Soon food was brought, mostly fresh fish and mussels from the sea. Lord Tyrion seemed to appreciate the offered wine, but Ser Barristan seemed bothered by the giggling girls surrounding him.

A while later the girls brought lutes, a harp and other instruments to fill the night with jolly songs. Daenerys knew a few of them from her travels through Essos. 

However, the best was treat were the honey cakes. They tasted wonderfully sweet and when Samwell Tarly started to eye them like a thirsting man a goblet of water she gladly ordered another portion and received a heartfelt smile from the young man.

All the while her Grand-Uncle Aemon listened to the merry songs in happy silence. Sometimes he clapped and later she placed Rhaella into his lap to keep him company. She was an pleasant child and didn’t mind the music or the company of he old man, though his forged chains were far more interesting to her than the old man himself.

Her Grand-Uncle appeared to be blissfully happy. The mere sight of it that made her heart clench painfully.

Later I will ask him again to join us, she decided right there and continued to watch the guests. Samwell Tarly tried to teach Gilly dancing, Lanna was deep in conversation with Tyrion and a large amount of giggling girls was surrounding Ser Barristan, who frowned like he was attending a funeral. One of the girls even dared to touch his precious white beard and earned herself a scolding frown.

“Do you think we could leave?” Jon asked her and squeezed her hand.

“But Rhaella…,” she protested, her eyes flickering to Maester Aemon, but Jon was quick to cut her off.

“Is safe and sleeping,” he told in an impatient manner. That made her smile.

"You are right," she replied and they muttered an excuse to Tyrion, who gave them an understanding nod, before quickly shifting his attention back to Lanna.

He had barely closed the door, before he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

It was not soft as usual. His right hand fell to her waist while the other hand brushed through her silver hair.

His mouth tasted like honey cake and he was soon working on the laces of her dress. Good that it was a simple summer dress and easily discarded.

Moments later she was again lost in his warm embrace and was helping with his own clothing.

Like drunken fools they stumbled into bed. Others would have probably laughed and even Daenerys couldn’t help but to laugh as she stretched her body of her his.

Then his lips were travelling slower while his free hand continued to squeeze her breasts, before kissing her between her legs. A gasp escaped her and she probably tore out a few precious curls along the way.

When she opened her eyes she felt his touch on her cheek and his thigh slipping between her legs. Then he pulled her foot over his hip and buried himself inside her.

She slid her nails over his back as she met his thrusts eagerly. His mouth was soon back on hers, nibbling on his lips, one hand squeezing her breast as he continued to rock into her, until they were nothing more than a sweaty mass of limps.

After their breathing had returned to normal she brushed her fingers through his curls.

All the while he was soothing his hand down the curve of her spine, before returning upwards to brush her hair out of her face.

She could have stayed like that forever, her body relaxed from their shared contentment.

It was a few hours later that she awoke and found Jon still asleep.

I should take a look at Rhaella, she thought and quickly pulled her dress over her shoulders, before climbing down the steps.

By then they had returned her Grand-Uncle back to his chambers. Rhaella was sleeping in Gilly’s arms while the girl's boy was sleeping in his makeshift cradle.

“Maester Aemon is asleep,” Gilly whispered and lifted Rhaella into her arms. She thanked the girl and placed a kiss on his cheek.

She shuddered when she realized how cold he was.

Alarmed she leaned down and put her ear on his chest and felt as if her heart was pierced by a dagger…

No, she thought tears brimming in her eyes. Not now.

She should have known better.

Now I can die a happy man, he had told her.

...

Sansa

Pale light was falling through the narrow windows, but it was the morning chill that woke her. Sansa shuddered even more as she crawled out of bed to find a dress to cover herself.

As she turned around she found Lord Hardying still asleep. He was gentle, though she still felt like there was a wide chasm between them. Maybe in time I will come to like him, she told herself and made her way to the door to call for one of her girls.

Marya arrived only moments later and Sansa asked her to help with her hair.

Soon they will know the truth, she told herself and instructed Marya to wash her hair with the essence Maester Coleman gave to her yesterday.

Soon the familiar red streaks were revealed. For Sansa it felt as if she was slowly returning to her old self.

Mary was shocked, but forgot about it when Sansa sent her off to inform Lord Baelish. It matters not.

Today is the day, she reminded herself as she pulled on a grey dress embellished with a direwolf. She has been working on this dress for weeks and it was meant for this special day.

“Sansa,” Harry’s distant voice called her out of her thoughts.”Oh, you are already dressed.”

He sounded disappointed, but they will plenty of time for such activities once they dealt with Lord Baelish.

The Vale will need an heir, she knew and was determined to provide one not only for Harry, but also for herself. He hated Queen Cersei, but she was not without wisdom. Sansa may never come to love Harry, but she will make sure that House Stark continues and that her future children are loved.

During darker times she even imagined the children’s faces and names. She imagined mischievous boy’s like Bran and Rickon, a wild little girl like Arya and a thoughtful boy like Robb.

She quickly brushed those thoughts away. It was so easy to get lost in them.

Exhaling deeply she turned around to look at Harry, who was still hiding under the bedding.

“You should get dressed as well, my Lord,” she prodded and forced a smile on her lips.”I have already sent Mary to inform Lord Baelish."

Harry nodded his head, but was too slow for Sansa's taste. Impatiently she she helped him to dress. Now and then he rolled his eyes, but the fact that he didn't brush her was a good sign.

“You are treating me like a little child,” he complained afterwards, but there was also amusement ringing in his voice.

“You are no child, my Lord,” she agreed and brushed his hair. It was reminiscent of Arya's, a messy tangle defying the laws of nature.”But you need to look proper. Today is the great day."

“I wish I had your optimism,” he snorted and gently brushed her hand away. Then he pulling his cloak around his shoulder and fastened it with a silver brooch.

Sansa pulled her own pelt-cloak over her shoulder, before following after Harry.

Sansa's heart was beating violently as they stepped into the Great Hall. Several of the guest ware already awake, shuffling through the halls in a sleep-deprived state.

Most of them came to congratulate them. Among them was Lady Waynwood who placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, Lord Bellmore who patted Harry’s shoulder as if he won a great victory, Lord Redford who eyed her covered hair with curiosity, but all of this was soon forgotten when Lord Baelish appeared.

He carried a triumphant smile and clapped in his hands together to get everyone's attentions.

All air was drained out of her in this moment, her fists buried in the skirt of her dress.

“My Lords and Ladies!” he called out and soon everyone stood to attention, though their whispering could still be heard from the distance.”May I have your attention?”

Sansa didn’t care about them, the only one who held her interest was Lord Royce. She only got a brief glimpse on him on the previous night, but seeing the grim look he was giving Lord Baelish she felt relief washing over him.

She still flinched when Lord Baelish touched her shoulder.

“All of you had the honor to pay witness to my daughter’s wedding to Lord Hardyng, but to my own grief the girl who you all know as Alayne Stone is of much nobler birth than any of you could have ever expected," he explained and Sansa pulled down the hood of her cloak to reveal her hair.

She was unable to look at them, but she heard gasps of surprise and more whispering. Taking a deep breath she lifted head and took in their reactions.

It was easy to see who knew about the deception. Lady Waynwood remained stoic, but Sansa saw the subtle smile curling on pale lips. Lord Nestor Royce’s face was red like a lobster while Ser Lyn Corbray grinned from one ear to the other. Lord Redfort and Lord Bellmore looked utterly confused, but Lord Royce didn’t hesitate to make the room his own.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked, his voice drumming in her ears.”If that girl is not your daughter…Who is she?”

Sansa was impressed by the man’s performance. He looked utterly enraged, his grim grey eyes reminiscent of a stormy night sky.

“I am Lady Sansa Stark,” she declared softly and as practiced Harry pulled his hand away from hers.”The daughter of Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Tully, the heir to the North.”

“Lies,” Harry muttered angrily.”Sansa Stark was wed to the Imp, but you were a maiden when you came to my bed.”

Sansa pursed her lips and tried to appear as distraught as possible.

“Lord Tyrion never consummated the marriage, my Lord. Many of you think him a monster, but that was not so,” she explained and inclined her head to look at Lady Waynwood.”I was inspected by a Maester before my wedding.”

A moment utter silence followed, before Lord Royce grasped her face between his large hands, pulling it left and right as if to inspect a horse.

“Gods be good!” he gasped, and sounded almost genuine.”It is true…I didn’t dare to believe it. You are truly Lady Stark’s daughter. Forgive me…my visit to Winterfell feels like a lifetime ago.

Sansa felt a heavy weight fall from her shoulders.

“There is nothing to forgive, my Lord.”

“Indeed,” Lord Baelish agreed and clapped his hands together.”I truly regret my deception, but it was the only way to free Lady Sansa from her ignoble marriage to the Imp. The only other would have been to approach the High Septon, but that current one is beggar who spends his time terrorizing Queen Mother Cersei and Queen Margaery. Truly, all I did was due to my long-held affections for Lady Stark’s late mother. That is the reason brought her here, arranged this wedding…all this only for one goal…to return Lady Stark to her rightful place as Queen in the North.”

“You still lied,” Harry grumbled convincingly.”You took me for a fool.”

“A fool maybe,” Lord Baelish quipped.”But a happy one. Before you were married to a bastard girl and soon you will have a Queen to name your own...Isn’t that worthy rejoicing about, my Lord?”

Harry remained quiet, but Lord Royce didn't hesitate to make his opinion known.

“When you first came here to marry Lady Lysa we all pecked you an overly-ambitious upstart, but now I am finally seeing your true face…you are a bloody mummer,” he said and jerked his head towards his companions.”But this mummery ends now.”

Sansa’s breath had hitched in the moment of revelation and it took all her strength to keep her composure.

“A mummer I may be, but wasn’t it worth?” Lord Baelish asked, confusion palpable on his face.”You all wanted to fight for the Starks, but it was Lady Lysa who refused to help her sister. Now you have a chance to redeem yourself .”

Sansa exhaled deeply and pursed her lips like someone might sharpen a dagger.

“And yet it was you who convinced Lady Lysa to stay her swords,” she declared softly and tried not to flinch.

“What did you say?” he asked and looked as if she slapped him right over the face.

“That you used her,” she continued, twisting the blade deeper.”She loved you and you exploited that. It was you who made her stay her swords when my brother needed them in his war against the Lannisters. And when you had no further need of her you murdered her by pushing her out of the Moondoor.”

He paled even more, his mouth opening and closing.

“You are not yourself, Lady Sansa,” he countered quickly and feigned a smile.”We all know that it was Marillion the singer who committed this heinous deed. Denying his involvement paints you a liar, my Lady.”

“I assure you I am well, my Lords and Ladies,” she declared loudly.”I lied, because I was dependent on Lord Baelish…I was afraid, but every one of you deserves to need the truth. It was Lord Baelish who pushed Lady Lysa from the Moondoor and I made myself his accomplice by lying to you. Truly, my father would be ashamed of me…,” she continued and dipped her head.”I am prepared to give myself up to your judgment.”

“There is no need for that, my Lady,” Lord Royce added and flashed Lord Baelish a cold look.

“Your words are no surprise to us. We all had our suspicions about Lady Lysa’s death, but there is more...I acquired a bottle of the potions Maester Coleman is mixing for young Lord Arryn, but the truth of the matter is...this is no potion, but a slow-working poision."

“That proves nothing!” Lord Baelish protested angrily."I didn't know anything about...," he continued, but Lord Royce cut him off.

“We will see about that,” Lord Royce added determinedly.”I will investigate this matter thoroughly and as long as these accusations are not disproved you will be removed from your position as Lord Protector of the Vale. You will receive a trial as befits a man of your position and then you will have plenty of possibilities to make your opinion known.

...

Chapter Text

Benjen

Benjen assembled them all in the Shieldhall. On one side sat the Free Folk leaders, on the other side the Northern Lords and at the head King Stannis, flanked by Lady Melisandre and Ser Davos Seaworth.

Benjen felt like a man forced to mediate between a horde of wild wolves ready to tear each other apart, but that was the very task the Three-Eyed-Raven intended for him. Now it was too late to turn back.

“You all know why we came here, my Lords and Ladies,” Benjen addressed them, though he was unsure how to address the Free Folk. If his words irked them it didn’t show on their already grim expressions.”We are here to plan our war against the Boltons. As long as Roose Bolton remains Warden of the North we will have no chance to harness the resources of the North to prepare against our real war…the war against the Others…the true enemy.”

“Well spoken, Lord Stark,” Mors Umber remarked, who was chosen to speak for the Northern Lords.”But first we need a promise...that the Free Folk will not pillage if we allow them to pass our lands.”

Benjen sighed deeply.

”I have already told you that we took child hostages to assure the Free folk’s loyalty; my Lord Umber. Those of the Free folk joined us are prepared to keep the King’s Law and will refrain from pillaging. Then once my nephew Rickon Stark takes his rightful place as Lord of Winterfell the Free folk will become part of the North and repopulate the Gift. It was my brother’s dream to do this and it seems it will fall to me to see it through.”

“I don’t doubt your words, Lord Stark,” Mors Umber replied, his gaze fixed on Mance Rayder, who was there to represent his people.”But I want the word of the King-beyond-the-Wall. I want him to swear that there won’t be more daughters carried off by his people. Only then will I accept that they fight under my banner.”

Grumbling could be heard among the Free folk, but Mance Ryder was quick to silence them with a harsh word. It made Benjen believe that he did the right thing by asking King Stannis to spare Mance. 

“I have already given my promise and I am prepared to swear it before the heart tree if that is what you wish, my Lord. I didn’t want to bring my people South to pillage the North, but to save them from a cruel fate.”

Lord Umber grumbled his acceptance.

“We are prepared to hear your vow tomorrow, King-beyond-the-Wall.”

“He is no King,” Stannis Baratheon remarked coldly and cut him off.”I am the only rightful King here. Mance Ryder gave up any claims to kingship when he accepted the King’s Law and Rickon Stark will have to do the same. He will be Lord of Winterfell and nothing more.”

“Of course,” Benjen replied and gave Mance Ryder a warning look. It was obvious that he was ringing with his composure.”My nephew understands his responsibility.”

“Good,” the King stated coldly and let his gaze sweep over the assembled lords and members of the Free folk.”Now that this matter is settled I hope we can finally move on to speak about our battle plans. I have been sitting at the Wall for too long. Winter is coming and our enemy is waiting."

“Aye,” Mors Umbers grumbled.”What is the plan?”

“The plan is quite simple,” King Stannis explained what Benjen and he have been discussing over the last weeks.”We will split our troops. I will take my men and part of the Free folk to Deepwood Motte to exterminate the Ironborn scum that settled there, before moving on towards Winterfell. All the while another host, consisting of Northmen and a smaller part of the Free folk will march down from Least Hearth. This army is meant to confuse Lord Bolton…he ought to believe that we are attacking the Dreadfort when our brunt force will be coming down from Deepwood Motte to squash him from the other side.”

“That sounds daring, but what if one host meets the enemy first? We of the Free folk are not as well-prepared as your knights, your Grace. There are few left of us and I don't want to sacrifice my men unnecessarily,” Mance Ryder countered and met the King’s cold gaze.

“Lord Commander Stark informed me that the Mountain Clans might join our cause if we appeal to them in our way to Deepwood Motte. It will have to be enough to face the Frey and Bolton traitors.”

“Lord Manderly is also prepared to help us,” Lord Glover added.”He plans to turn his cloak.”

“So will my brother,” Mors Umbers added.”His loyalty is falser than a whore’s love.”

“I cannot live on promises,” Mance Ryder replied.”I can only go by what I know. The way to Winterfell will be long and hard. The skies promise storm and snow while this Lord Bolton will sit behind high walls."

“You are not wrong,” Benjen Stark admitted.”But I believe Lord Manderly when he says he will open the gates. His loyalty is not easily rivaled by anyone in the North.”

Mance Ryder sighed and dropped his head in acceptance.

“Very well, the Free folk will fight. Nobody shall say that we don’t keep our word. The Northern Lords ought to not forget this day.”

“We will not,” Mors Umber grumbled.”We will not.”

…

Arya

They burned Maester Aemon like the Targaryens of old. Arya had known him only for a short time, but he was a kind and wise man. Yet Arya knew better than anyone that her god took and gave as he pleased. The god she once served. Granted she still wanted to take revenge for her family, but she failed her mission and she knew that she can’t return to the House of Black and White. Not that she wanted. Maybe, coming here to Braavos was always meant to reunite her with the family she never knew.

Yet she couldn’t just leave without paying one last visit to the House of Black and White. Someone gave Daenerys Targaryen’s name to the Faceless Men and Arya Stark intended to find out who did it. She owed that to Jon.

One last time, she thought and slipped out of bed to stand next to the open window. A clear starry sky spread over Braavos, the streets outside ringing with laughter and music. There was some sort of festival going on the in the city. The people dressed up in colorful masks and there was music played all day long.

She came to love Braavos with all its wonders, but now her heart longed for home, the icy wind of the North and the summer snows.

Soon, she told herself and made her way along several peddlers and whores offering their services at a lower price than usual. It was after all a day of celebration.

It was way beyond the hour of the wolf when she arrived at the House of White and Black. She knew this, because the bells ran loudly, making the ground beneath her feet rumble.

As usual she changed into her old robes, but this time she didn’t hide Needle, but displayed her sword openly. Yet she couldn’t help but to feel slightly anxious. She didn’t know what to expect now that she failed her mission.

Fear cuts deeper than swords, Syrio had once told her and truer words were never spoken. Her heart was pounding violently as she stepped into the familiar hall with its many gods.

“You are back,” the waif remarked softly.”We didn’t believe you would return.”

Arya bowed deeply to her old friend who taught her so much. It was from her that she learned the Game of Faces, High Valyrian and the way of poisons...

“I apologize for my delay. I need to speak to the Kindly Man.”

The waif gave a silent nod and led her along to one of the chambers where the dead were prepared for their last departure. Many a night Arya worked there, taking care of the dead bodies.

Like always he appeared out of nowhere, gracing her with a mild smile.

“Who are you?” he asked her, his voice a gentle caress.

This time Arya didn’t pretend and answered honestly.

“I am Arya Stark of Winterfell.”

The Kindly Man laughed and smoothed his hand over his old wrinkled face.

“A girl finally realized the truth,” a different voice spoke, but very familiar. Yet only when she saw his face did she know that it was him.”You can never be no one, but you are serving the God of Death in your own way.”

Jaqen H'ghar.

Arya was confused, but felt strangely relieved by this revelation.

“You fooled me all along,” she replied and smiled.”But you are right. I intend to continue serving your god, though I have failed my mission.”

Jaqen H'ghar or the Kindly man shook his head.

“A girl didn't fail. You are an instrument chosen by the the Many-Faced God and he chose through you to forgo the gift meant for Daenerys Targaryen. Yet you will have to give me a name, before you leave this place.”

She pondered over his demand and pursed her lips.

“Who gave the name of Daenerys Targaryen to the Many-Faced God?”

Jaqen H'ghar appeared amused.

“A girl is clever…The name of the man was Magister Illyrio.”

Magister Illyrio, she repeated and recalled that Daenerys spoke about such a man. He was the man who convinced her brother to sell her to a Dothraki horselord. He also promised them support, but Arya was smart enough to understand that people don't help others without ulterior motives. She doubted this Magister was much different.

Whatever his reasons may be, he is better off dead, she thought and shifted her attention back to Jaqen H'ghar.

“I have a name for the God of Death…Magister Illyrio. Is the name acceptable?”

Jaqen H'ghar gave her a knowing smile.

“A girl chose wisely. Now leave and do not return to his place. The next time the door will be closed to you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears glimmering in her eyes as she stepped outside.

It felt as if a heavy burden was lifted from her heart.

I am going home, she told herself and didn’t look back. I am going home.

…

Cersei

The bells tolled as they approached the Great Sept of Baelor its tower shining in the sunlight like diamonds. A good hundred Lords and Ladies followed after them. Like Queen Margaery, Cersei was carried in her own litter, her golden son at her side. Far off she saw the mass of peasants assembling to pay witness to the mummery the High Sparrow and his followers prepared for them.

The heat of the day was stifling inside the litter, but she preferred it to being forced to breathe the same air as the Tyrells and this vile creature that had her paraded through the city like a common whore. Soon, she thought and felt gentle warmth spreading inside her stomach, Soon I will have my revenge.

Inside the Sept the air less stifling, but the smell of the creatures made her wrinkle her nose. Dirty and barefoot as they were they smelled like a nasty pest she needed to get rid off if she wanted to secure the throne for her son.

The High Sparrow stood among them, a self-serving smile playing on his pale lips.

Cersei played humble as did Lady Margaery. She refuses to call her Queen, the little whore that was forced upon her son. Cersei wore a dark dress of simple wool and Lady Margaery a light dress of green-brown.

Her fat father’s garb was much more precious, a deep green double of silk and golden roses embellished on the front. He looked almost out of place, standing next to Randyll Tarly. This man is a warrior, the hard lines in his face evidence for his strength. Mace Tyrell is a vain fool. The world will not weep for his loss, but that of Randyll Tarly.

What a waste, she thought and shifted her attention to Ser Robert Strong, Qyburn and her precious son. Her daughter was still in Dorne and she doubted they will allow her to go home.

It was all part of Tyrion's plan. Oberyn Martell fought for him after all, she knew and felt fresh hatred stirring inside her. Maybe the Tyrells were also part of the plan from the beginning, she thought and smiled at her sweet boy. You will not die. You will not be taken from me like your brave brother and your sweet sister.

These thoughts gave her hope, but when she spotted Lancel, a sudden bout of sickness overcame her. He looked like one of the creatures, dressed in old worn robes, his face gaunt and bony.

Traitor. Good that your father didn’t have to behold your foul treachery. Poor, Uncle Kevan. Dead and gone like father.

Then the High Sparrow began to speak.

“We gathered here to find truth! We gathered here to hear the judgment of the gods! A battle to the death will decide the fate of the Queen Mother!”

Then the High Sparrow's sharp eyes flickering to crowd of followers. From their midst emerged a tall man, dressed in polished plate armor and a precious sword fastened at his belt. His face was concealed, but his shield told her everything she needed to know. On the shield the seven-pointed star was prominently displayed.

The Faith's Champion, she knew but he paled in comparison to Ser Strong, her sworn sword.

“May the gods judge wisely!” the High Sparrow finally declared and announced the beginning of the trial.

When Ser Strong’s first blow met the enemy’s shield she felt a thrill of excitement surging through her. It felt as if it was her who slashed the blade against the enemy’s shield. It felt better than fucking Jaime, the gutless traitor that left her.

Yet the Faith's Champion didn’t go down without a fight. He was quicker and tried to evade Ser Strong’s assault, but her sworn shield stood strong. Blow after blow followed, up and down, left and right. While the Faith's Champion faltered, Ser Strong brought down his blade again and again. It was a glorious sight as the first blood tinged the ground beneath after Ser Strong dealt his enemy a sharp cut to the shoulder, his pale cloak soon dripping with blood. The Faith's Champion tried to meet Ser Strong's assault, but he stood no chance against the constant barrage of cuts. One especial hard blow shattered the Champion's precious shield, which tore a horrified gasp from the crowed.

Yes! Watch! Watch and see your demise, vile creature!”

These glorious thoughts whirled through her head as she beheld the High Sparrow’s pale face. Then suddenly the Faith's Champion dropped his shield and aimed a savage blow at Ser Strong’s middle, that washed away all her glee.

Her heart nearly threatened to jump out of her chest as the Faith's Champion man buried his blade deeper and deeper...

Blood tinged the ground, but Ser Strong stood unaffected like a mountain in a raging storm. Gods, she thought and the Faith's Champion must have felt the same, for he appeared frozen to the ground when Ser Strong brought his blade down on him. With one sharp cut the enemy’s head was nearly separated from his neck.

Cersei wanted to laugh, to dance, but then she heard Tommen’s whimpering.

Why is he crying, she wondered but realized again, much to her dismay, that he was not like Joffrey. That is why he needs me. To protect him from his many enemies.

A feeling of pleasant warmth filled her up to the brim. The last time she felt like this when Jaime plunged his cock inside her... Or was it when she burned the Tower of the Hand? She didn’t know. The exhilaration was overwhelming.

When all was said and done Ser Strong joined her side while the High Sparrow descended down the gilded steps.

Exhaling deeply she stepped towards him and bowed deeply. It was meant to be her last act of humility.

“The gods judged and spoke. Queen Cersei is innocent in the eyes of the gods. Rise, sister. Rise.”

Cheers filled the hall, but it meant nothing for her.

Cheer, you fools. Cheer.

Slowly she turned around and took Tommen's hand, before joining her entourage, Ser Strong and Qyburn among them.

A moment of silence passed, before the High Sparrow demanded their attention, the bells carried by the Septa's silencing the crowd.

“Tomorrow Queen Margaery's trial will be held. Pray for a fair judgment, my children.”

Yes, pray you fools...all of you will soon find yourselves in hell.

That night Cersei remained with Tommen, reading him his favorite story and comforting him. The trial disturbed him greatly.

Afterwards she went to seek out Qyburn to speak about their plans.

“Your Grace,” he greeted her with one of his strange smiles.”I didn’t expect your visit...it is rather late.”

“Spare me your false courtesy," she snapped."Is everything ready for tomorrow?”

“Don't fret about it, your Grace. Our enemies will soon be dealt with,” he assured her and rubbed his hands together.”I hope our little King didn’t have problems too much of a problem to digest the little potion I gave him?"

“He complained about the bitter taste, but he is only a boy. I trust that it won’t be too uncomfortable for him.”

“No, your Grace. It will give him a stomach ache...enough to keep him too bed for tomorrow and the day after. He will recover soon enough.”

“Good,” she said and balanced herself on the polished table in front of her.”But I will need more than a simple stomach ache. The High Sparrow will demand my presence. It needs to be convincing.”

“Of course,” he said and rummaged through his many potions, before handing her a blue bottle.

“It causes cramps, fever and bloody stool. A very painful poison, but not deadly if taken in a small amounts. It will have to serve.”

“It will have to serve,” she repeated and poured it down with the best Arbor gold left in their stocks. Her father it served on Joff’s wedding and she savored every sip.

Shortly after the promised camps began. It was reminiscent of the birthing pain she took upon herself to bring her precious children into the world.

Thus she suffered through the night, watching the stars fade and the sun rise over the Blackwater.

A glorious morning, she thought despite the aching pain inside her. The bloody stool was even more painful, but it meant nothing to her.

Moments later her ladies appeared inside her chambers to help her. They recognized her need and called for Qyburn to confirm what she already knew.

“The Queen is sick…she displays similar symptoms as the Prince, though much more severe,” he declared.”Perhaps food poisoning…I recommend for her and the Prince to stay away from the trial.”

“Of course,” Randyll Tarly remarked, a look of annoyance displayed on his features. They called him here in haste, his eyes still red from lack of sleep. He probably thought of this visit as a waste of time.

After the fool left to partake in the trial she continued to enjoy beautiful sunrise.

The sky was bloody and soon the bells rang. The bells of death, she thought and sipped the bitter potion Qyburn gave her to soothe her pain.

The wait felt like an eternity, but then the spectacle began. It sounded as if a giant tromped over the city, sprinkling green fire over the sky. A white flash and a boom followed, before a thick column of smoke rose into the sky.

It was a glorious sight that filled her with pride.

Father, she muttered to herself. Can you see me from your place in hell? Can you see me?

…

Chapter Text

Sansa

Sansa felt a strange feeling of sickness washing over her as they continued their travel south. Barley a moon ago, they had heard about the destruction of the Sept of Baelor, though the tales varied depending on the person.

Some people said the Mad King had returned from the grave and taken his revenge against the Lannisters. Others said that the old king’s wildfire had exploded by a mere accident and others claimed that Cersei Lannister herself had burned the High Sparrow and his followers as a way to escape her trial.

No one could say what was true, but from there one the events had escalated. They said the remaining Sparrows had joined the smallfolk in rising up against the Gold Cloaks and the Reachmen that had been residing in the city.

Rumours said the great butchery had occurred for three whole days before the smallfolk had overwhelmed the Gold Cloaks and had entered the Red Keep, looting and killing as they went.

The thought was enough to make Sansa shudder from head to toe. She recalled all too well how she had nearly died when the crowd in King’s Landing had tried killing her after Joffrey had commanded to his Gold Cloaks to bring him the head of a man that had thrown shit at him.

The Hound had spared her the terrible faith, but that was only the beginning of this mad tale and the reason they were travelling south.

Only two week turns later, rumours of dragons and ships reached their ears, namely that Daenerys Targaryen and her nephew had returned to retake the Iron Throne from their enemies and that they had three dragons to name their own. The fact, that this cousin of hers claimed to be the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen confused her even more.

Yohn Royce had shaken his head in disbelief at the tidings, but Sansa had been amazed. It made her think of Arya, who had always dreamed of meeting a dragon, but back then Sansa had quickly brushed these thoughts from her mind as she had still thought her sister dead and gone.

Yet, that belief had turned out to be another misconception.

Sansa had nearly fainted when she had read Arya’s bad uneven writing, informing Sansa that she had not only escaped King’s Landing but that she had also made it to Essos where she had found Daenerys Targaryen and their cousin, who had grown up as Jon Sand in Dorne.

Yohn Royce had remained sceptical, despite Sansa’s insistence that this scripture was indeed Arya’s writing and that her sister wouldn’t lie about such a matter.

Eventually, she had been able to convince him to ride for King’s Landing and he had agreed to give her a large enough entourage to keep her save. Strangely, her Lord Husband Harry had not opposed her wishes and even insisted on accompanying her.

Sansa didn’t know what to make of his sudden friendliness, but perhaps that was only natural. Their marriage hadn’t been a love match, but perhaps they could find a certain understanding. Unlike Joffrey, Harry was not cruel, though a bit on the vain side.

I was once like that, Sansa reminded herself. Spoiled rotten.

Thus, they had left for King’s Landing a week turn ago. The first days had been chilly, but full of sunshine, but the further south they had travelled the colder it had gotten. By the time, they had reached the Bloody Gate skies had changed to a thick grey colour and the first snowfall had covered the formerly green hills with crusts of snow.

For Sansa, it had been a welcome sight, but Harry and his men complained day and night about the cold, a sight that made Sansa smile. Only when the snowfall had grown so bad that they had barely been able to see more than a handful of feet, she had forgotten about her amusement and they had been forced to take refuge at the Quiet Isle.

The brothers had been kind enough to shelter them for three or four days, but eventually, the storm had dispersed and they were finally able to move on to the Inn at the Crossroads.

Returning to the inn filled Sansa with sad memories, but that was only the beginning.

Residing in this Inn were the poorest children Sansa had ever laid eyes on. Their bones were showing through their thin skin and their mistrustful looks made her feel that they were not particularly welcome here.

"Do you have someplace for us to sleep?“ Harry asked the owner of the Inn. "I shall pay you handsomely.“

She was a slender and pale-faced girl with long black hair that was called Jeyne Heddle.

"Coin is not much use to us, M'Lord,“ the girl replied. "We have no need for coin, but food.“

„We need the food ourselves,“ Harry threw back, but Sansa decided to interfere.

"I am sure we cand afford to give them some of our rations as payment,“ Sansa whispered into Harry’s ear. „Look at these children. They are all starved.“

"As you wish,“ Harry replied and shrugged his shoulders. "But do not complain if we run out of rations.“

Sansa said nothing to that but was more pleased to use her feet. Days in the saddle made it hard to sit, but that was not the only thing that made her curious about this place, when one of the inhabitants of the Inn came to introduce himself as Ser Gendry Waters, supposedly a friend to Harwin.

That he showed a strong resemblance to Renly Baratheon had roused her curiosity even more.

"Where is Harwin?“ she asked him as he led her inside the Inn, her guards always close at her side. Harry didn’t seem to trust these peasants. "Can I see him?“

"He is off with Thoros and the others,“ Gendry replied. "To celebrate a wedding at the Twins. Lady Stoneheart is leading them. It must be done by now.“

The name of the woman was foreign to her, but Ser Gendry was looking at her as if he expected her to know the woman. Perhaps he only knew about her sad connection to Robb, who had perished at the hands of the Freys.

"Is she a warrior?“ Sansa asked politely.

Ser Gendry blinked in confusion.

"Who?“

"Lady Stoneheart,“ Sansa said.

"Oh, no!“ Ser Gendry replied, an amused laugh spilling from her lips. „She is no warrior, she is something altogether different. Well, I think you know her, my lady. You should stay here to meet her.“

Sansa was now even more confused.

"We are on our way to King’s Landing to speak to Daenerys Targaryen and cousin,“ she explained matter-of-factly. "My sister Arya is with them.“

Ser Gendry’s bright blue eyes widened in shock. "Arya is alive?“

Sansa was completely taken back by his question. "You know Arya?“

He blushed a little and brushed his hand through his long black hair. Seeing him smile made him look even more like Lord Renly, though he also had a touch of his father King Robert about him.

"I knew her,“ he replied and lowered his head in an apologetic gesture. „We travelled together when we tried to get away from King’s Landing. She was pretending to be a little girl. We called her Arry and then we were captured and brought to Harrenhall. We escaped by a hair’s breadth and roamed the Riverlands until the Brotherhood without Banners found us. Beric made me a knight and Arya was supposed to be ransomed to your brother, but she disappeared. Some think she ran away but others believe she was taken by the Hound. I thought her dead.“

Sansa could only marvel at Arya’s adventures. Her own travels had been rather simple compared to that.

"She wrote to me,“ Sansa assured the young man. "I would recognize her bad scribbling among thousands. She is well, though how she found her way into the service of a Targaryen is quite surprising to me.“

"Then, you will even be more surprised when you meet Lady Stoneheart, my lady,“ Ser Gendry told her and kissed her hand. "I ask you again, please wait for their return. It is very important.“

"Why is it important?“ she asked in confusion, but couldn’t bring herself to refuse the request. This young man had helped her sister. "Very well, I think I can convince my husband to remain a handful more days, but then we must hurry on to King’s Landing.“

"I thank you, my lady,“ Ser Gendry had said and kissed her hands again.

As promised, Sansa convinced Harry to stay a handful of more days, an idea he refused at first, but when Sansa had distracted him with their task of conceiving an heir he had forgotten about his displeasure soon enough.

The men didn’t seem to mind either. They spending their time in company of Jeyne Heddle’s girls while Sansa spending her time in company of Harry who took her riding along the Trident.

She was surprised the find the first frozen places here and there. She also showed him the place where Joffrey had attacked Arya and recounted the tale of how the King had commanded to put her direwolf to death on Cersei’s command.

Surprisingly, he did not defend the King’s decision.

"A direwolf is a noble beast,“ he said instead. "Your wolf did not deserve to die for the sake of The Lannister bitch.“

It was the first time Sansa felt warmth for her husband. Perhaps there was hope for them after all.

The evening proved just as quiet. They shared a simple meal of porridge and watched the soon disappear beyond the horizon.

Yet, not long after their peace was disturbed by the sound of horse hooves.

It was so loud, it felt as if an army was coming their way and when Sansa rushed to the window and pushed the shutters open her suspicions were confirmed.

Several hundred men could be seen, a mismatched band of men from different stations and ages.

The Brotherhood, she guessed and tried to find a familiar face among the men, but found none until Ser Gendry appeared behind her and offered to show her the way.

Harry frowned at that, but Sansa was too excited to notice. Instead, she rushed out after Ser Gendry, her cloak and husband forgotten.

It didn’t take long until she spotted Harwin, who looked older and weary but had still the same friendly smile.

"My Lady Stark,“ he greeted her and blinked. "I can scarcely believe it. You are alive.“

Sansa could barely contain her excitement. She was trembling, both from the cod and the disbelief of being here.

"And I am so very glad to see you alive,“ she said and clutched his arm, afraid he might dissolve into nothingness. "I was afraid that all of you had perished because of me.“

Harwin gave her a confused look, but at that moment her attention was directed elsewhere.

More familiar faces appeared among the groups of men.

There was Thoros of Myr.

What she had not expected was to find Ser Jaime Lannister among the Brotherhood, though he looked much changed from the prideful man that had once served in the Kingsguard. His golden armour and his pure-white cloak had been exchanged for simple plate and a crimson cloak. He also lacked his beautiful curls and his beard was scruffy and untidy.

He also didn’t seem particularly pleased to be here. Only when he looked at the very tall knight beside him did he stopped frowning.

"This is Lady Sansa Stark,“ Harwin introduced her to Lord Beric. "This is Thoros of Myr.“

"I remember you,“ she replied politely and felt as if Beric didn’t even see her. His dark empty eyes scared her even more, but she tried not to appear affected. „You have my thanks for protecting my sister Arya.“

"She disappeared,“ Thoros of Myr replied in an indifferent and rattling voice. "Your sister.“

"She is alive,“ Sansa replied and felt a chill wash over her when Ser Jaime’s gaze fell upon her. "Arya is with Daenerys Targaryen and her nephew.“

"Are you well?“ Ser Gendry asked and pulled on her arm, but Sansa ignored him and braced herself when Ser Jaime led his horse closer.

He lowered his head in greeting and cleaned his hand upon his dirty tabard. "Well met, Lady Sansa. My sister wanted your pretty head, but it seemed you really flew away like a songbird.“

"Jaime!“ the tall knight scolded him in an unnaturally high voice. "This is not the right moment!“

"Spare me your complaints, wench!“ Ser Jaime mocked the knight that had pulled off her helmet to reveal a freckled face framed by untidy blond hair. She was no great beauty that lady, but she had pretty blue eyes and her crooked smile was filled with warmth. It was the Maid of Tarth. "I was just jesting!“

"I am not insulted,“ Sansa replied and returned the Lady Brienne’s smile. "I have suffered worse in my time in King’s Landing, but it surprises me to find you here among the Brotherhood. I assumed you were in King’s Landing with your sister.“

"My sister is dead to me,“ Ser Jaime replied coldly.

Sansa was taken back by his words. „I heard you went to a wedding at the Twins.“

"They are all dead, my Lady Stark,“ Ser Jaime replied coldly. „Lady Stoneheart hanged all of them. Lord Walder’s face was purple as a bruise when he perished. It was the only fitting death for that rotten cunt, though I was a rather unwilling participant in this mummery.“

"What Jaime is trying to say is that he has not forgotten he is a Lannister,“ Lady Brienne explained. "But he certainly is no longer your enemy, my Lady. He has proven himself to your mot…Lady Stoneheart.“

It was in that moment, that the whispering and the exchange of pleasantries died down and a strange silence fell over the crowd of men when a rattling wooden carriage had been pulled towards the Inn.

It was a simple carriage for ladies with a silken roof that was supposed to protect against rain and snow and was pulled by a brown palfrey horse.

"Fuck me sideways!“ exclaimed the man seated atop the wooden carriage and pulled down his hooded cloak. He had a weather-worn face that was unfamiliar to her, but his bright blue eyes and faded red hair told her that he was more than just a simple old man. "You are Cat’s girl…Sansa!“

He had jumped from the carriage in the same breath and a moment later Sansa found herself pushed into his embrace.

The man was a stranger to her but she believed his words.

"You are my Grand-Uncle?“ she asked in confusion.

"Ser Brynden Tully,“ he confirmed and kissed her cheek. "Though they usually call me the Blackfish.“

Sansa felt tears burning in her eyes. "I thought you died.“

"I am well, child,“ the Blackfish replied and let go of her, his sad gaze darting to the carriage. "But it's not me you ought to meet…“ he was about to continue, but his voice died on his lips when a strange person emerged from the protection of the carriage.

At first, Sansa only saw a dark-robed figure, her face covered by the hood of a cloak and nothing more than a blurred shadow.

There was something chilling about that creature, but when her pale and gnarled hands pulled down the hood Sansa’s heart nearly stopped.

The woman’s face was familiar. It was so very pale and there was a terrible gash along her throat, but there was no doubt about it.

This was her mother, though her once blue eyes were black like the night and there was little left of her beauty.

Sansa shuddered at the sight, but she also longed to touch her mother.

She couldn’t bring herself to move.

Her mother made a growling sound.

"She says that you are familiar with her,“ Thoros of Myr translated for  Sansa, who still couldn’t bring herself to move, as this creature that might have once been her mother touched her cheek. Her hands were cold and brittle. "But that she cannot remember your name. She also says that there is more she needs to do.“

Sansa stuttered. "You killed the Freys didn’t you, mother?“

The creature made another growling sound. "She killed them all, but her heart is empty. There is one more thing she needs to do. She wants the Lannister woman’s head…Queen Cersei’s head.“

"But they say Queen Cersei is dead,“ Sansa countered and backed away. The sweet and rotten smell was overwhelming. "But Arya is still alive. Do you remember her, mother? Arya? My sister?“

Her mother made another growling sound and pulled the hood of her cloak back in place before returning to her carriage.

"People lose their memories when they die,“ Thoros of Myr explained to her. "I doubt she will remember you or sister, child.“

"What is she?“ Sansa asked. "She is a walking corpse.“

"Beric brought her back, my lady,“ Thoros explained and touched Sansa’s shoulder. "He too had been touched by the god of light.“

...

Chapter Text

Benjen

Benjen’s heart ached when he roamed through his broken home. Here in Winterfell, he had spent the happiest time of his life, racing with Lyanna through the godswood or learning swordplay.

All that had changed when they had gone to Harrenhall and he had lost his sister, brother, and father in a matter of two years.

Then, Benjen had joined the Night’s Watch and Ned had become the Lord of Winterfell. Now Benjen was here, trying to salvage what was left of House Stark from the burned ruins of Winterfell.

It broke his heart to look at the scorched walls and find the halls devoid of the folk that had once dwelled here.

All of them were gone. Ned, Cat, his children, only ghosts and Rickon to remember them by.

Rickon who was still far too wild for his own good and preferred the presence of Wildlings over his own blood. Rickon who was now Lord of Winterfell or at least that is what Stannis Baratheon desired.

Winterfell ruled by a puppet Lord and the crown that had been taken from him. Yet, for that he still needed the support of the Lords of the North, a task easier said than done.

Benjen had tried his best to broker peace between the parties and had been somewhat successful, but now that Winterfell had been retaken and the Boltons had been defeated the tension was ever-rising among King Stannis‘ and the Lords of the North.

Neither was fond of the other, despite the fact that they had fought together to banish the Boltons from the North.

King Stannis had defeated Ramsay Bolton and the Frey Lords with the help of Lord Manderly's and Lord Umber's troops that had turned their cloaks for him during the battle, stabbing Ramsay Bolton into the back.

The bastard had perished like he had been born. Bloody and wicked till the end, but no threat any longer for womenfolk or girls alike.

Benjen wished he could have given him a more gruesome death after he had laid eyes on the girl that Roose Bolton had declared to be Arya Stark, but who was in truth Jeyne Poole, the Steward’s daughter.

Roose Bolton himself had perished in Winterfell when Lord Manderly had commanded his men to kill by stabbing him to death. He too had died as he had lived, with like a bloody cunt.

Benjen had not even given him a proper burial. Instead, he had fed his rotten corpse to his bastard's rabid dogs.

He had even asked Jeyne Poole to join him, but the girl could scarcely move out of bed without weeping and thus Benjen had done it all on his own.

Strangely, even that had brought him no relief and he had returned to his chamber, sad and exhausted, his dreams filled with nightmares.

A crow came to visit him that night, speaking of the coming of winter, warning him of the enemy lurking beyond the Wall…

When Benjen woke that morn, he picked up quill and parchment and wrote the Mance Ryder, inquiring about the situation to ease his nerves.

Mance’s answer had not come of course and wouldn’t come for days, but it had helped to ease his nerves a little as he had watched how the different parties had taken residence in Winterfell.

There was enough space now, though the halls were cold and it would take years to restore everything back to what it once was.

Benjen hardly felt the cold and spent his days helping with the work or speaking to the Northmen, who all agreed that Rickon should be Lord of Winterfell, but were torn on the matter of Stannis Baratheon.

They were tired of war. Benjen could see it in their faces.

They only wanted to go home to their wives and children to prepare for winter and not to march south where they had already lost so many sons and fathers.

That Stannis Baratheon lacked his brother’s ability to make enemies to friends didn’t help. In some way, Stannis Baratheon reminded Benjen of Ned. He was withdrawn and quiet in nature, but he sadly lacked Ned’s gentleness.

No, Stannis Baratheon was a brash and direct man, who might have been accepted among the Northmen for such an attitude if he had been born here, but as he hailed from the south he was frowned upon as an arrogant fellow who had come to lord them around.

That he had taken the Lord’s chamber for his own and had promised his men castles and women, hadn’t endeared the men of the North to him.

Only the promise of a marriage between Rickon and Princess Shireen had somewhat eased the tensions, but there were still many among the Northmen who didn’t like the idea of bending the knee to a southron King.

The fact that Stannis Baratheon had barely an army to count his own, made the situation only worse.

And Benjen was caught in the middle of it all.

I should have stayed at the Wall, Benjen reminded himself, and continued walking along the battlements overlooking the courtyard below. I am doing this for you, Ned. Wherever you are.

Sighing, he left his post and returned to change his black cloak for something finer. He was still a man of the Night’s Watch, but tonight he had to play the role of a Stark.

Thus, he put on a fine woolen tunic, black breeches, black boots, and a fine furred cloak fastened with a silver-buckled wolf.

Rickon was also bathed and put into lordly finery, but his doublet was already thorn by the time he was seated upon the high seat of Winterfell.

His wolf was of course beside him, growling at everyone who even dared to touch his master.

Benjen couldn’t help but worry about the boy. He was still claiming that Bran would come back to take his seat as Lord of Winterfell, but Benjen wasn’t sure about that.

The lands beyond the Wall were dangerous and he regretted that he had allowed Bran to leave like that, but he had no other choice.

Forgive me, Ned, he thought as he took his seat beside his nephew, the Lord of Winterfell, or King Rickon the First of his Name?

As he swept his gaze along the hall that had been restored somewhat, he could see the tension visible upon everyone’s faces.

Mors and the Crowfoot Umber were seated together, two burly men arms as thick as tree trunks that were sipping from their wooden cups and making faces as if they were filled with sour milk instead of Lord Manderly’s fine wine.

Lord Manderly was seated not far. He was so fat that he had needed the help of his two granddaughters and his son to walk to his seat. His son looked almost like a ghost compared to him, a ghost that had been starved through his time as a Lannister hostage.

Left and right from him, sat the Mormonts, the Glovers, followed by the Mountain Clans’s a horde of unwashed men that could have easily been mistaken for Wildlings if they didn’t keep their distance from them as if they were contagious.

The Wildlings that had fought for Rickon had received their own table and seemed unbothered by the hostility that was shown to them. They drank and gorged down the food that was being served for them or the fact that they were surrounded by Northmen.

There were for one the Crannogmen, who were lead by Lord Howland Reed, who had been both distraught and relieved when Benjen had told him about his children. And then there were also the Karstarks or better said Lady Alys Karstark, the last surviving member of her house that was seated next to Lady Cerwyn, who had also succeeded her father as Lady of her house.

Benjen was surprised when the Lady Alys had come here with a good hundred men, offering her loyalties to them and declaring that her Uncle had been a traitor to their family and that her forced marriage to her cousin Cregan had been a sham.

Benjen had believed her and had urged the King to find a good match for her instead of eradicating House Karstark.

Lady Alys had agreed and there she was, pale-faced and determined in the face of hostility that was being shown to her by many.

King Stannis on his men were seated on the other side of the hall, all of them lordlings in finery and eating from the silver plates Benjen had managed to salvage. Strangely, Ramsay Bolton had had no use for the cutlery he had left covered with dust and spiders.

His Queen was also there, an unfriendly and grim woman who was always seen in company of his crimson-robed Lady.

Only the young Princess Shireen seemed cheerful. She had enjoyed exploring Winterfell in company of Rickon, despite his rude behavior.

On the contrary, she seemed very amused by Rickon’s forwardness, and mayhaps in time, they might even warm up to each other despite their age difference.

Benjen liked the Princess as well, but she was not sure if anyone would ever accept her as Queen.

Rhaenyera Targaryen had been a dragonlord and beautiful, but this girl had neither.

Benjen was sure the Lords of the North saw it the same way and would give Stannis not what he desired.

"We have come here to decide on the succession,“ Lord Mors Umber spoke for the Northmen, his gaze flickering to Rickon. "And are prepared to pay homage to our new Lord and King, Ricknon Stark the First of his name.“

He had freed his blade as he had said these words and had flung the blade before the young boy’s feet.

Rickon had not been fazed by the gesture, but simply remained seated, his pale blue eyes staring at the sword before his feet.

The other Lords did the same, one after another freeing their blades or weapons and paying homage to their King.

When all was said and done, there reigned an icy atmosphere of mistrust.

King Stannis was naturally not pleased by this act of treachery, but beyond anger, he could not do much about it, beyond showing his contempt.

"My brother used to say there is no one more loyal than the Northmen,“ King Stannis replied coldly. "I suppose that was another of his delusions.“

These cold words seemed to rouse something among the Northmen and he received an equally cold answer in return.

"We are exhausted, your grace,“ Mors Umber explained. "We thank you for helping us and you are welcome to stay in the North as long as you like, but we cannot fight another war. We have neither the strength nor the will to fight another war in the south to win your crown for you.“

"And it isn’t like the south ever cared for our lot,“ Lord Glover added. "As for your brother, some of us thought Ned should have declared independence during the rebellion and never bend the knee to a southron king again, but Ned was fond of kING Robert. You, my lord, are not Robert Baratheon, but only his brother.“

"And the rightful King,“ King Stannis corrected Lord Glover. "Robert’s heir.“

"Heir or not,“ Lord Flint added. "We don’t give a fuck about the Iron Throne or who occupies it. It brought us naught but pain.“

"Only because your Lord refused to support his rightful King,“ King Stannis replied, completely unaware that he was slowly digging his own grave.

"King Robb was our chosen King,“ Mors Umber countered. "My brother crowned him and I won't have his memory tarnished by you, your grace. Say another word about our King our I shall forget my courtesies!“

Benjen had then risen from his seat.

"Calm your voice, Lord Umber, or I shall have you dragged out and take your head! I will not have a guest dishonored in such a manner! Whatever you may think of his grace, without him Winterfell would still be in the hands of the Boltons!“

"And why did he help us?“ Lord Glover asked. "Because he needs us to die for him. He cares nothing for us or what we would suffer if we fought another war against the Lannisters.“

"Ned would disagree,“ Benjen replied. "But Ned is dead and gone. So is Robb. Our great dream of independence is a pipe dream, nothing more. We need the south, whether we like it or not because the enemy we are going to face will be more terrible than the Lannisters. The Others!“

"It is a pointless thing to convince fools that they are fools,“ King Stannis said then. "You did your best, Lord Stark, but I know when I have to retreat. Have your bloody crown, but the Wall is still mine and I shall not relinquish it. As you rightly said, the enemy still exists and I intend to fight it with all my strength.“

With these words, King Stannis had left the great hall of Winterfell to return to the Wall. Only his wife and loyal knights accompanied him while his daughter, Princess Shireen, remained here at Winterfell.

Benjen had not been able to make sense of King Stannis' actions, but that was only the beginning of his troubles.

For a week turn after the King’s departure, a raven from the south arrived in Winterfell, bringing tidings of dragons and the Targaryens.

…

Chapter Text

Jon

Jon felt at unease in King’s Landing as he had felt among the Dothraki, but everything was different now. He was no longer just Jon Sand, the knight Prince Doran Martell had sent to Dorne to find Princess Daenerys, but a King and wed to Daenerys.

It felt almost surreal, as he entered the anteroom filled with people who had accompanied him all the way. There were Ser Barristan, Greyworm, Lord Varys, Lord Tyrion and Lady Ashara, who had raised him as her own.

Prince Doran had been more less friendly when they had arrived in Dorne, but he had never been a man to show an abundance of emotions. Perhaps it was also his sickness speaking, which had also kept him behind in Dorne.

Princess Arianne had joined them on his behalf and couldn’t have chosen a more illustrious dress. It was a dream of crimson and suited her startling personality, but Jon noticed that she held not much of a liking for Daenerys.

Jon was not surprised. She must have believed that she would become queen and his announcement of marriage to Daenerys had obviously not pleased her or her father. Only the promise that Dorne would receive a proper royal marriage had smoothed the edges.

Taking King’s Landing had not been very difficult.

The city had been in utter chaos when they had arrived. The Sept of Baelor had been reduced to ashes and the Sparrows and the Gold Cloaks had been waging a bloody war against each other.

Only when the dust had finally settled, did they find out that few of the Reachmen had survived the butchery. Margaery Tyrell had perished while Cersei Lannister had gone mad when she had found out that her son had perished from some sort of poison and Ser Randyll Tarly had been forced to lock her up for her own safety.

Still, Many things were yet unclear, even their coronation. Daenerys had thought it better to postpone such ceremonies until they knew more and had instead sent out ravens to all the important houses of the Seven Kingdoms, announcing that the Targaryens had returned to the Iron Throne.

The greatest surprise had been that his cousin Lady Sansa was now the Lady of the Vale and had announced her coming after Arya had sent a raven to her. But that was not the only positive development, for his youngest cousin Rickon had also returned from the dead and was now the Lord of Winterfell, though it had been his Uncle Benjen that had answered their raven with a promise of joining them in the south.

Yet, he was not the only one who had followed their call. Lord Randyll Tarly had surrendered the city to Daenerys and Jon without hesitation and Willas Tyrell had joined them shortly after. He had been deeply saddened to hear about his sister’s death, but when Ser Loras Tyrell had suddenly appeared a handful of days later it could have almost been called a miracle.

Ever since, Lord Willas had been residing in the Red Keep and spent much time in company of Princess Arianne Martell, who seemed to share the sentiment, despite his crippled leg. Even Prince Oberyn seemed pleased to be in his presence.

"You look pale around the face,“ Lady Ashara teased him and brushed her hand through his dark hair. "You are just meeting your cousin. Your kin. I am sure she will be pleased to meet you.“

Jon exhaled deeply and leaned down to kiss her cheek. Then, he looked over to Daenerys, who wore a stunning gown of crimson with long black sleeves and a cape embellished with rubies. Her crown was still the same, but there was a small swelling visible around her belly. She was with child again or so she believed.

"Come,“ Daenerys told him and offered her hand to him but when she saw how uneven his crown was resting atop his dark hair she put it back into place. "We should no dally any longer or your cousin might run off again.“

"Indeed,“ Jon agreed and noticed that Lord Varys remained behind, always lingering in the shadows. He had been cordial towards Jon when he had arrived here, but Daenerys and he didn’t see eye to eye. She had yet to forgive him for the fact that Magister Illyrio had convinced her brother Viserys to marry her off to Khal Drogo. Jon hadn’t forgiven him either, but he had to admit that without his help they wouldn’t be here.

Well, It wasn’t like he had to trust him.

Together, they entered the throne room and found the Iron Throne untouched as ever. Daenerys held no interest in the ugly chair and had already decided that she would get rid of it in good time, but Jon wasn’t quite sure what she intended to do with it.

The Iron Throne was not something one could simply depose of.

The long hall was filled with petitioners. They had spoken to people from the city, women, and children who had lost loved ones to the riots, lords, and ladies who had brought them gifts or had simply wanted some small favor done in exchange for their vow of allegiance or just some beggar who had asked for their protection.

They had done their best to accommodate everyone, but the city was bursting and that was why Daenerys had commanded some of her Unsullied to sail with Ser Loras Tyrell to Dragonstone to take residence there.

Jon recognized the blue-and-white banner of House Arryn at once, but it did not come alone. It was joined by the banner of House Stark, the young lord and lady entering the throne room both garbed in the colors of their houses.

His cousin looked just as Arya had described her. Tall and graceful, with long red hair and bright blue eyes. Her husband Harry, as she had called him in her letters was a handsome lord, with a sharp face and blondish hair.

He didn’t seem particularly pleased to be here, but even he did not forget his manners when he came in Jon and Daenerys‘ presence.

He lowered his head in reverence and kissed Daenerys‘ hand, but Jon’s attention was on his cousin.

Arya had been all jumpy to meet her, but now that she was here, she was suddenly incredibly quiet, her grey eyes filled with a strange kind of worry.

Even stranger was that she had put on a dress and had allowed Doreah to take care of her ever untidy hair. She looked almost like a lady in that grey dress of hers, though beneath she still wore her worn-out riding boots and her slender blade was fastened at her belt.

The two sisters simply stared at each other for a long time, Sansa Stark rooted to her spot. Tears were shining in her eyes, as she simply forgot all manners and pretense and gathered Arya into her arms.

Arya said nothing and simply endured the display of affection until Sansa had finally let go of her.

"I am so glad you are alive,“ Sansa stuttered, fat fears rolling down her red cheeks. "Whatever happened in the past…I am so sorry. I was so bloody stupid.“

Arya stared back at her in disbelief. "You were bloody stupid, but that’s fine with me. I missed you, stupid.“

Sansa laughed tearfully and hugged Arya once more.

"I am missing you too.“

When Lady Sansa had calmed down a little she turned to look at Jon.

"And you must be my cousin?“ she asked and brushed her tears away. She dropped a quick curtsy. "I am pleased to meet you, your grace.“

„Jon,“ the words spilled from his lips in an awkward tone. „Most call me Jon.“

"Jon,“ Sansa replied and eyed Daenerys curiously. "And you must be Princess Daenerys or is it Queen? I admit I am a bit out of my depth…all of this has been quite the surprise.“

Daenerys beamed. She had been so very nervous meeting his kin.

"Daenerys or Dany is fine,“ she told her and clutched her hand between her own. "We are after all kin by marriage.“

"We have a child,“ Jon added quietly. "Princess Rhaella.“

Sansa seemed delighted at the prospect. "A little girl. You must introduce me later.“

She turned and pointed at her Lord Husband, who had listened to their conversation in silence.

"Speaking of introductions. This is my husband Lord Harold Arryn.“

The young man lowered his head once more. "I have seen your dragons, your grace. I am quite impressed.“

"They are impressive indeed,“ Daenerys added proudly. "But they won’t do you any harm. I promise.“

"We should talk in private,“ Jon suggested friendly. "About the future of the realm.“

"All Jon can think about is work,“ Daenerys chided him and smiled at Lord Harry. "And forgets that you have just traveled a long way and are in need of rest.“

"I am really exhausted,“ Sansa declared and took her husband’s hand. "We should rest and then we can speak in private.“

Harry’s gaze softened a little. "As you wish, Sansa.“

…

Chapter Text

Daenerys

The first snow was falling upon King’s Landing when her daughter took her first proper steps. The dragons unleashed their cries upon the city when the cold fell over the city, covering the city with a crust of glittering snow.

It had happened all so fast as if a spell had been cast upon King’s Landing.  Daenerys had been forced to change her summer dresses for pelt and spend attending to the needs of the citizens while Jon and Lord Tyrion continued their negotiation in company of Lord Willas Tyrell, Princess Arianne, and Harrold Arryn.

They spoke about taxes, corn, and loans, but eventually, they found an agreement that suited all parties. The Reach and the Vale would bend the knee in exchange for two important promises and the Riverlands would be returned to Lord Edmure Tully, who would be freed upon Lord Tyrion’s ascension to the position as Lord of Casterly Rock. The Blackfish had been quite angered about this arrangement, but Jon had managed to appease him by having Lord Tyrion yield lands and coin as repairments to the Riverlands. Lord Willas would also marry Arianne Martell, Lord Harrold Hardyng would receive a seat at the Small Council and reduced taxes.

Yet, there were many more questions that had yet to be answered, some of which will undoubtedly be answered when they meet Lord Benjen.

"She has much of you, Daenerys,“ Sansa complimented her as her bright blue eyes followed the stumbling steps of her daughter. Rhaella cooed happily and jumped into Daenery's arms, who caught her just in time. "She looks like a true Targaryen.“

"I named her for my mother,“ Daenerys replied and pulled Rhaella into her lap. She waffled something to herself in the language only young children could understand while Daenerys shifted her attention back to Sansa. She was only a year younger than her and had spent the last few days in her rooms, recovering from an ailment of the bowels. Well, Daenerys believed it was something different. "I wonder what I will name this one. I am hoping it is a boy. I like Aemon or Viserys.“

"Viserys was your brother?“ Sansa asked politely. "I heard he perished in the Dothraki Sea.“

Daenerys didn’t hold back in giving her the truth. They were after all kin.

"My brother was killed by my first husband,“ Daenerys replied, not wanting to remember that she had once been wed to Khal Drogo. "He was mad like my father.“

Sansa was silent for a long time. "And yet you want to name your son after him?“

"Not after the brother, he became,“ Daenerys replied, her voice breaking a little. Thinking of Viserys always made her feel incredibly sad. If he had just been a little more patient, then he could have been here with her. "But the brother he once was. The brother who carried me on his shoulders through Essos. The brother who protected me from the Usurper’s swords.“

Sansa did neither judge nor agree with her. Instead, she touched her stomach and smiled. "I shall call my son Ned or perhaps Jon? And if it’s a girl I will name her Catelyn. For my mother.“

Daenerys nodded her head in confirmation. She had heard what had happened to Lady Stark and couldn’t imagine a more gruesome death.

"I am sure she would have been pleased,“ Daenerys replied politely. It was the only thing she could say. She hardly knew the young woman. "And proud.“

"There is something I must ask of you,“ Sansa said then. "A small request.“

Daenerys was pleased with the possibility of being generous to her new kin. She had never had a proper family until now.

"What could it be?“

"I want Cersei,“ she replied. "Give her to me.“

Daenerys was confused by her request. "She is utterly mad. I do not think she…,“ she began, but Sansa Stark’s face had turned very serious.

"I want her. Please.“

Daenerys bit her lips and nodded her head in confirmation.

"If that is what you want. I doubt Lord Tyrion will care. I think he hates her more than he hated his father.“

Sansa leaned over to squeeze her hand. "I thank you; Daenerys.“

Daenerys returned the gesture. "I thank you for treating me so kindly. I never had a proper family to speak of and I feard you might reject me given our past history. Jon feels much the same I think, though he does not speak so openly about it.“

A smile returned to Sansa Stark’s lips.

"I too lost my family,“ she replied and patted Rhaella’s head. "But the past means nothing now. We are not our fathers, we are our own people and we can change the future for the better, I know it.“

"And you think your Uncle Benjen will agree?“ Daenerys asked.

"I am sure of it,“ Sansa replied.

Benjen Stark arrived three days later, in company of a good hundred men and Lord Edmure Tully, who had been freed as Lord Tyrion had promised them.

Benjen Stark showed an uncanny resemblance to Jon, though much more haggard and marked by his years of serving in the Night’s Watch. Lord Edmure looked even more exhausted, his face pale and hollow, but it seemed his young wife Lady Roslin was a true comfort to him.

"You are very welcome, Uncle,“ Jon greeted him with all the courtesy he could muster, but Daenerys could see how frightened he was. "I am glad we finally meet.“

"I am pleased to meet you too…,“ he began, but his words died on his lips when he laid eyes upon his two nieces.

Then, Sansa and Arya were in his arms, tears, and laughter mixing with joy.

Daenerys watched the reunion in silence before she flashed Lord Benjen a cordial smile.

"You are welcome as well, Lord Benjen. Perhaps you and your men wish to retire to refresh themselves.“.

Jon had also left with her to give them time to reunite properly.

"What do you think of your Uncle?“ Daenerys asked him and kissed him. "He seems very grim.“

"So was Lord Eddard,“ Jon replied and took a glimpse at the sleeping Rhaella. "We will have to see what we can do to convince him.“

"We will,“ she replied and climbed into his lap. "But now we still have some time left. What do you think?“

Jon laughed and kissed her neck before rubbing his cheek against hers. Being in his arms made her forget about the cold outside.

"We will be late again.“

Daenerys answered his question with a kiss.

They were indeed late, but neither Lord Benjen nor Lord Edmure seemed to care. They drank and ate and exchanged tales of the past, but never quite lost their sadness.

Lord Edmure retired early and only Lord Benjen remained.

"You have done well for yourself, nephew, “ Benjen Stark said and smiled at Daenerys and Jon, though it didn’t quite reach his face. "Your mother would have been very happy for you. Lya herself was never allowed to follow her heart’s desire. She was always a playball in the hands of others. First, my father, then Robert and at last Rhaegar. All wanted to possess her, but all she wanted was to be free. And for that freedom, she had to die. It's a true shame.“

Daenerys‘ heart ached for the man. "Ser Barristan told me Rhaegar loved his Lady Lyanna. I do not think he was cruel to her.“

"I don’t think so either,“ Lord Benjen replied. "And I didn’t mean to tarnish your brother’s memory. We did him all wrong by calling him a rapist, but I cannot help to blame him a little, but not more than I blame my father, who was more interested in furthering his own ambitions than caring about Lyanna’s wishes. As for Robert, I feel both pity and anger when I think of him. He was a man with great potential, but he wasted it away. If it is a comfort to you, Princess Daenerys, I do not think that Robert Baratheon ever spent one happy moment as King of the Seven Kingdoms.“

"I do not want to think of him,“ Daenerys replied. "He is just another ghost we should bury.“

"But his brother yet lives,“ Lord Benjen replied. "Stannis Baratheon holds the Wall and is determined to defend it against the true enemy. I do not think will attempt to take the crown again, but there is still his daughter, Princess Shireen, who is betrothed to Rickon. Perhaps an arrangement could be found for the Lady? She is a sickly girl, but pure of heart. I do not think she would ever dare to go against your rule.“

"She shall have Storm’s End as is her birthright,“ Daenerys replied faster than Jon. "We shall be pleased to welcome her to court. There is no reason for her to be afraid of us. I do not harm little girls, especially if we are soon to be kin.“

"There is more,“ Benjen Stark said. "There is an enemy we have not been aware of.“

Jon and Daenerys exchanged a quiet glance.

"Who is it?“

Benjen Stark exhaled deeply and spoke a name that hadn’t been heard about in nearly a thousand years.

"The Others have returned.“

…