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Chapter Text

  “Were there ever any dragon queens that ruled the Seven Kingdoms?” Daenerys had asked her brother when she was very young.

   “Once,” he recalled. “The Iron Throne rejected her. She perished during the foolish ‘Dance of the Dragons.’”

   Many years later, Daenerys read over the history of the ‘Dance of Dragons’ for herself. The throne didn’t reject Queen Rhaenyra. It was giving her a warning. Daenerys contemplated this as she couldn’t sleep again since her daughter had been sick. She hadn’t slept in what felt like months. Rhaenyra had already lost two of her sons to gain the throne. Slowly, she lost all her family except for one son. Her poor boy was doomed to watch his mother die in front of him. How could she still want that wretched iron chair? Didn’t she notice how much it cost her? Her brother, Aegon, didn’t seemed to notice either or care. He didn’t view Rhaenyra or any of them as family. Aegon’s callousness reminded Daenerys of her own brother Viserys. Aegon called his own half-sister a “whore”. Viserys didn’t care if Daenerys had to sleep with the entire Dothraki khalasar and their horses to get his crown. Was Daenerys as callous and stupid? She lost two dragons, her best friend and soon her daughter to the Iron Thone. Had she deceived herself like Rhaenyra that things would be better once she was on the throne?

   Things weren’t better. The people of Westeros mostly bickered and complained. She strived to improve her people’s lives. They stubbornly focused on her mistakes and on a male heir. She felt her strength drained from her as she attempted to please them. She wanted them to view her as family and not some foreign queen. Her daughter, Missandei Targaryen, laid dying in her arms. The maesters and the septons couldn’t save her. The same men had called her son, Jorah, a monster and forced Daenerys to cast him aside. She dreamed of burning them all.

  They weren’t the problem. The Iron Throne had caused all of this. Daenerys had turned back to that timid little girl again. A foolish girl that believed Viserys when he told her constantly “Everything will be perfect once I’m on the throne. We’ll be home again.” It was a lie, so Viserys could control her. Daenerys didn’t rule. That ugly chair controlled her like her brother had controlled her. Daenerys had enough of bowing to the rules of the Iron Throne and its’ cruelties. It deserved her brother’s fate. She poured wildfire on it. If it is truly the throne of dragon kings, it could withstand the heat. It melted down like any common chair would except for one odd sword. The sword withstood the flames while all the rest melted to liquid steel. She entered the flames to retrieve the lone sword. The sword would come with her to Essos. The land where her strength first began might be able to rekindle it back in her bones.

Chapter Text

        They called this land the “Neck”. “It’s a terrible name,” Orlege of the Fiery Hand thought. “The neck is vulnerable to attack on the body. This land is narrowly impregnable.” Four dozen men were sent into this nightmarish swamp to retrieve a small boy. A powerful red priest and priestess led the way. Ten men didn’t make it to the village. Some dropped down dead. Others were literally swallowed down by the ground. Once at the village, another fifteen men perished. Their houses looked even poorer than Dothraki huts. The villagers were small in stature. They quickly vanished from the soldiers’ sight. Sounds of faint whistling filled the air. Four men died as the priest and priestess searched for the boy. Apparently, the flames didn’t give them his precise location. They ran out of the hut with the boy. The soldier who had been carrying the boy suddenly fell to the ground. The priest snatched up the boy. Orlege heard the soldier’s muffled scream. The villagers were like shadows. You barely saw them attack. They killed five soldiers before the priestess made a wall fire to protect them. She stayed behind to guard the men's retreat. Most certainly, if she hadn’t done this, they would have never stood a chance to get back to their ship. They weren’t even halfway. The swamp wasn’t through with them yet. A giant green monster shredded two of his men apart. A whistling sound was occurred again. Some villagers must have escaped through the flames. They took down three more soldiers.
        Their ship seemed like an oasis of safety. Orlege couldn’t climb up fast enough for his own liking. His heart rattled in his chest despite the other men’s breaths of relief. Sure enough, two villagers snuck aboard and killed two more men. One villager jumped into the sea. The remaining villager held her ground. She discarded her long tube weapon and drew out her spear. She defeated one soldier. However, she is quickly surrounded by the ship crew. The young boy cried out for her. Orlege ignored the boy as he prepares to slay her. When Moqorro ordered him to spare her, he had briefly considered disobeying it. Finally, he did obey Moqorro and chained her up instead.
        Until their ship “the Burning Sea” had been a few miles away from shore, he could deeply sigh in relief. The crew was curious about this strange boy that they had kidnapped. There were whispers. Some of them were afraid that the boy had a new kind of Greyscale. They started staring at him. The boy clung to the village woman in discomfort. Orlege knew better. The boy didn’t have Greyscale which didn’t resemble scales as much as it did stones. The boy’s skin truly looked like snake scales that were mostly red with hints of black. They were all over his face and arms. The crew shifted about doubtful. He didn’t look like the chosen one that they had imagine with his short black hair. One crew member was intrigued to know if the scales were over the boy’s entire body. He examined up the boy’s arms and legs. He flung back screaming as the woman stabbed him with a finger length blade for getting to close. The boy yelled that he wants to go home. Orlege was about to slap him to quiet. Moqorro grabbed his arm to stop him. He slapped the woman instead. “You better be quiet,” he ordered the boy. “Or, I’ll slap her again.” To her credit, she refused to cry out in pain. “As for the woman, there better be no more weapons on you. If we find one, we’ll play a nice old pirate game of how long you can hold your breath.”
       Moqorro got hold of the boy and brought him before the mostly unsure crew. The bearded man lit a torch and dragged the boy’s hand towards it. The woman gasped in fear. “See,” Moqorro pulled out the boy’s unscathed hand. “Fire cannot harm a dragon.”
       The boy glared at Moqorro. “Fire burns.” There was something in the boy’s dark eyes that implied a threat against him.

        They sailed to the old kingdom of Volantis to the red temple there. Orlege chained the woman to a bed and tied up the boy in another bed chambers. He went to consult with their high priest Benerro. He overheard an argument erupting between him and the high priestess Kinvara.
        “You finally decide to grace us with your presence,” Benerro bowed mockingly to her.
        Kinavara was furious. “You stole Queen Daenerys’ son. Are you mad or simply stupid? How do you think the ‘Mother of Dragons’ will respond?”
        “I know how she has responded so far.” The bald man fired back. “For more than four years, she has done nothing but sit on her Iron Throne. How long are we to wait for her to come save us?”
       “You feel kidnapping her son will endear her to our cause.” She creased her brow. “She’ll rain fire down on us.”
       “It’s easy for you to sit back and wait in the now freed Meereen. The enslaved people here are losing faith in our cause. We need a symbol to rally the people to fight.”
        “You mean that you need a symbol to keep you in power.” She contradicted him. “As for the people, do you truly believe that the people will follow a little boy? Who is this woman that you keep chained up?”
       His fire tattoos on his face moved as he grinned. “She is our dragon horn.”
      “She is your noose if you leave her chain up like that,” Kinvara scoffed. “We should behave better than the vile slavers.”
       “This is how you start a revolution. You’re just upset. Once I accomplish this, I’ll become more powerful than you.”
      “Be careful. It’s a long way down.”

       Kinvara fretted the situation in Volantis. She needed to get back to Meereen and the Bay of Dragons. The land still needed to be looked after as to not fall back into the corruption of slavery. “I leave this matter in your hands.” She regarded Primola, a red priestess, who was her Yi Tish servant. There was sadness and the upmost confidence in her eyes. “I know you will do all that you can to help.”
       Primola understood this and kept herself diligence. She patiently awaited a moment to pounce. She didn’t have to wait long. The young boy dragon refused to eat for two days. He kept weeping loudly. The noise was bothering the followers that were visiting the temple. Bennero summoned his council together to discuss the matter.
      “It wouldn’t be an issue if you simply let me hit the boy.” Orlege, the captain of the Fiery Hand, recommended. He bore a mostly green flame tattoo on his face to cover over his old tiger stripes tattoo.
       “He is NOT to be harm ever!” Bennero shook his finger at the man. “Our symbol can’t be a weak frighten boy.”
       Primola interjected, “Did you have a problem with the boy eating on the ship?”
      “No,” Orlege recalled. “He and the woman ate alright on board the ship.”
      “He ate alongside the Westeros woman.” She rose her eyebrow. “Does he still dine with her?”
       “Not since we have arrived here.”
       It didn’t take Bennero long to realize what she had already determine. “Fine, let them dine together if that is what it takes.” He turned to Orlege. “I want you to fetch me a fine sword master for the boy. A dragon prince should be a skilled warrior.” He dismissed them.
        She decided to follow Orlege to the woman’s chambers. She is disturbed to see the foreign woman chained to her bed with a fresh bruise on her face. The young boy rushes over to her. The brown-haired woman with the muddy green eyes embraced him affectionately. She was more than comfortable with the boy while all other weren’t. Primola struggled at times to pretend to be comfortable with the boy. Orlege tossed down the food at them and remained at the edge of the room. “You should untie her.”
      “She has attacked us twice.” He addressed her dubious. “She should be happy that I haven’t flogged her.”
       “People who are treated like wild animal will be behave as such.” She commanded, “release her. I’ll take fully responsible for her.”
      “It’s not like she is going stab you first,” he mumbled to himself. He sets the woman free.
     The woman keeps her back against the wall, and her arm wrapped around the boy as they nimbled on some food. Primola kneeled down in front of them. “Greetings, I am Primola of Yi Ti.” She spoke to them in the Common Tongue. “What is your name?”
      She studied Primola for a few seconds before she replied, “Chanit Quagg. This is Jorah Targaryen.”
     “She is rather short,” Orlege looks down upon Chanit.
      Chanit smirked. “Actually, I’m considered rather tall for my people.”
     “Is your village all children?” He openly mocked her.
      “Would you like to leave this room and walk the roads of the city?” Primola ignored his stupid utterings. She blamed his savage culture. Naturally, he is bothered by the idea. He and Bennero couldn’t see that they should be making her an ally and not a captive.
       “We would like that.” Chanit pondered as she gently strokes the boy’s face. “May we please have some appropriate clothes and perhaps some masks?”
         She must have caught a glimpse of the shadowbinders that had visited Bennero. Jorah’s face would cause a great stir in any city street. Primola agreed it would be a good idea. She gave them long sleeved clothes and mask. The boy was given gloves as well.
        The city was overwhelming to two people who grew up in an isolated swamp. “Is there some place that you like to visit? Perhaps the Fishermonger’s Square? We can get some nice beet soup.” Primola suggested to them.
        “May we see the ocean please?” Chanit held Jorah’s hand tightly.
        “Of course.” Primola could hear Orlege groan to his two soldiers assigned to escort them. She had learned to ignore various rude comments such some Volantenes women sneering at her.
        “They’re mocking you and your people.” Chanit observed to the surprise of Primola. She didn’t speak. Primola just nodded her head slightly. “My people have been called frog-eaters and mud men among other things.”
        Jorah tugged Chanit’s arm while they were strolling through the streets. He pointed to a man cleaning up horse dung. A swarm of bugs harassed the poor man who is trying to work. “Help?”
       “When there is no balance, there is only suffering.” She gives him her permission. “Yes, you can help.” The boy loosens his pouch. Suddenly, a creature flies up on to his shoulder. The soldiers gripped their swords. “It’s alright. It’s only a little dragonfly.” The creature had four long crystal wings and a hard-blueish purple body. Its head was long and had a row of teeth. “They aren’t dangerous, and they hardly grow bigger than your hand.”
       “A most fitting pet for the boy to have,” Primola watched the dragonfly move with fascination. In mere seconds, the creature had devoured nearly all the bugs in the swarm. The worker was grateful. He waved to them as they departed to the port.
       “We will be staying here for a while.” Chanit commented as Jorah placed the dragonfly back into his pouch.
       Primola confirmed her suspicion. “Jorah is needed to help us here. They are many people suffering here.”
       “The markings on their faces tell you who is suffering?”
      “Most of those markings were force on them.” Primola explained. “These tattoos are branded on to slaves’ flesh to show their role. Their masters gave them those.”
       They arrived at the port. Chanit stared at the ocean. She noticed a hungry child and borrowed a net to catch a bird flying overhead. “Slavery is evil.” Since Orlege refused to loan her a knife, she killed and cut the bird apart with a sharp stone. She and Jorah gathered some sticks around the port. They cooked the bird. Jorah handed all the meat to the hungry child. “Can we learn the language of this city?”
       “You may,” Primola was pleased that they had found a common ground. “I’ll arrange for lessons for the both of you.” She watched as Chanit took the unused part of the bird and grinded them. She gathered them together with a seed from one of the trees. She proceeded to bury it all in the ground. Primola found her intriguing.
      “You should never waste anything.” Chanit holds Jorah’s hand.

       Chanit and the boy continued their walks with Primola. She took them to the great river Rhoyne. They caught fish and frogs to feed to the poor. Primola seemed to enjoy the disgusting frogs that Chanit cooked for her. The Yi Tish priestess is strange and a fool. Orlege couldn’t believe that she hasn’t realized the truth. They are pretending. They’re biding their time. He told Bennero this. The red priest refuse to allow to have more guards for them. The dragon prince was behaving better. Bennero had been pleased by it and indulge the boy. Orlege had a feeling the very young boy was smarter than his appearance.
        He stood in the back of the great hall in the red temple. Bennero and two of his priests were performing a ceremony for the crowds that gathered. Two of his soldiers brought Chanit over to him. They were momentarily distracted by a huge flame that Bennero had issued forth.
       “It’s a fish.” Orlege looked at her confused. Chanit repeated back in the Common Tongue since her bastard Valyrian was lousy. “It’s a trick. He used a mixture of sloes, tallow, honey amber and madder to create the vibrate huge flame.”
       “How could he have poured the potion onto the fire with no one seeing it?”
       She leaned in closer to him. “He isn’t sweating from the heat. He is dripping the mixture from his fingers. Not much of the mixture is needed to cause this.”
        Maybe, the boy wasn’t the only one clever. He narrowed his eyes at her. She kept her focus on the ceremony. She found their sacrifices disgusting and vile. When the ceremony had concluded, she hid her feelings. She didn’t pretend like Bennero or Primola. She didn’t mention her thoughts about them. She kept quite a few secrets.
       Bennero erupted in fury as one of her secrets was exposed. “How could you lose one foreign woman and one small boy with scales?!” He shouted all the Fiery Hand soldier. “Search the city, all the ships and lands nearby. I want them found NOW! Don’t dare come back until you have them.” They fled from him at once.
        Most soldiers headed to the port and ships for any signs of them. A few boarded ships to search ports in other lands. Orlege led some of his men in a different direction. Bennero had foolishly let the boy see a map of Esso. Chanit would choose a route to homeland. She would pick the safest one. This meant the most familiar. He traveled up the river Rhoyne. She was accustomed to rivers since she lived in a swamp. It took him over two months to find her and the boy. They had made it as far as the Golden Fields. He expected Bennero to be overjoyed that he brought them back.
       “Make sure that they don’t escape again, or it’ll be you in the fire next.”
       The gall of this priest to accuse him had Orlege livid. Hadn’t he recommended better security? It fell on Bennero’s deaf ears. Now, Bennero sought to lay all the blame on him. There was nothing that he could do to stop the unjust lies and soon to be rumors against his honor. He wasn’t able to lash out at the priest. He unleashed his anger at Chanit. He had her stripped naked, so no more hidden weapon could be attained. Then, he beat her for escaping. She was thrown into an empty room and chained to the wall.

Chapter Text

    A fellow smith once told Gendry. “There is nothing better than a beautiful woman lying on top of you.”

    He knew something better. With Arya Stark tuck in on his side, his arm wrapped around her. He fought the ship rocking him back to sleep. He enjoyed staring at his little she-wolf. He fancied even her grimace as he teased her. Years ago, when news of the Red Wedding spread across King’s Landing, he feared that he lost her. He strokes her head and felt her brown hair between his fingers like some wild mane of a horse. She sailed off to the distant Braavos to train in secret. It saddens him that he couldn’t protect her from the scars inflicted on her. People call her the “Night Wolf” now since she defeated the Night King. They were afraid of her. He should be too. Instead, he found her exciting and wanted to remain by her side in battle and life. She stirred slightly. He tested to see if she was awake. “You know that no one isn’t an answer.”

    She gave him an exaggerated sigh. “For the tenth time, it’s the truth.”

   “Your brother, the first sword, the Hound, and the Knight from Tarth are all proper responses. Someone had to have taught you to fight. Unless, you are saying a direwolf train you in Braavos.”

   “There are no direwolves in Braavos.”

   “Well, pardon me my lady. I have never been to Braavos. Did a goat train you?”

   Arya rested her elbows on his chest. “Remember Jaqen H’ghar?”

  “The prisoner in the back of the wagon?”

  “Yes, he is part of a group called the Faceless Men.”

  “Sounds revolting. At least, a water dancer sounds pretty.”

   She slaps his chest. “Stop being ridiculous.”

  “Or what, my little wolf? Will you devour me?”

  “I do like the taste.” She touched his face, “of bull.”

   A horn interrupted their kiss. “This better not be another false warning.” Gendry complained as Arya jumped up to get dress.

   There was excitement in the air. The sailors hoped to discover new lands to the west. Though, Captain Salladhor Saan would be content with another route to Yi Ti. “It is indeed land.” He informed them as they approached him.

   “So, we will be going ashore now.” Gendry looked around.

   Salladhor shook his head. “It’s still dark. A man should never interrupt another man’s sleep. We’ll meet them in the morning. Go back my friends and get some sleep. Glory awaits us in the morning.”

   When they arrived on shore, they were unsure where they were. Once they met the native people, Gendry heard Salladhor attempt to speak with the natives in various phrases of different language. It was to no avail. Enver came forward and spoke with them. Enver had been a slave trained in various languages. They had hire him to decipher new languages that they might encounter. The natives dressed in painted long leather grabs. They seemed friendly and welcomed them to their villages. Gendry suggested that they lied down their weapons as a sign of their peaceful intent. Salladhor and Arya agreed. Though, Arya kept her Valyrian dagger hidden in her clothes.

   Their whole mission and future trade rested on the eleven-year-old boy’s shoulders. Enver spent many hours talking and working with the old men of the tribe. He started to understand a little of the language as the sun set. “They request that we sleep on our ship. We may return in the morning. They wish me to stay here.”

  “They don’t have enough room for us.” Salladhor looked suggestively at a native young woman, “or they don’t want sharing beds.”

  “I’m staying here with you.” Arya crossed her arms. Gendry knew Arya wouldn’t want to leave the boy alone here with strangers.

  “We’re staying.” Gendry supported her.

  “Fine, the rest of us will return to the ship.” Salladhor placed his hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “Enver, you can tell them that any young woman is more than welcome aboard my ship.”

   It was days later until Enver was able to understand them. They gathered together to speak with the native’s leader. The royalty lived in stone domes while everyone else lived in wooden huts. The room that they gathered in had a beautiful crystal ceiling. They sat in a circle on curved wooden chair. Two guards were positioned at the door. They held spears made from lone spiral animal horns. Enver briefly looked at his parchment before he began. “This kingdom is called Do Nen. They live under the protection of the powerful Athit kingdom as do several other nearby lands. They are willing to trade with us if we can help them.”

   “What kind of help?” Salladhor rubbed his chin.

   “They are plagued by the Ladron who raid them often. They steal crops and people. The Do Nen aren’t allowed to have their own army because of their treaty with the Athit. They believe the Athit are behind the Ladron raid, but they have no proof. They don’t want to end up as the Pasix.” They slowly considered his words.

  “So, they want us to fight the Ladron?” Arya reasoned.

  “Yes,” Enver confirmed. The leader had the silver crown adored with bird feathers and gems. The older man shook his head. “They are willing to pay us for our help.”

  “I usually don’t mettle in another pirate’s affair.” Salladhor was hesitative.

   Arya smirked, “even for a king’s ramson?”

   “Well, there are always exceptions.” Salladhor grinned back.

  A Do Nenish scout showed them the path the ship took to arrive at their shores. It was calm waters which made the crag full bay less dangerous. “We can easy stop them by coming in from the opposite direction.” Gendry observed.

   Arya closed her eyes and played the scenario in her mind. “We need something more like the element of surprise or hitting them from two sides.”

  “Hmmm,” Salladhor glanced at the tall crags. He tilted his head to Arya. “Little monkey.”

  “Do you want me to punch you?” She took it as an insult.

  “Little monkeys swinging for a banana.” The older man pointed to the crag and chuckled. “Little warriors swinging onto the ship.”

  It was a dangerous plan. Naturally, Arya agreed to it. They were creatures of habit. She knew where to find him as they organized their attack. She slinked over to him. “You couldn’t help yourself.”

  Gendry had been forging hooks to attach to long ropes. “I need to make sure they’re strong enough for your daring entrance.” He molded the metal over the fire. “You shouldn’t do such crazy feats.”

  “Then, I won’t be allowed to do anything.” She examined his finished hook.

  “Not yet,” he took the hook from her with a slight teasing in his eyes. He enjoyed watching her fight as much as she enjoyed watching him forge. Still, he worried, “be careful.”

  He didn’t need to worry the plan was successful. Salladhor’s ship engaged the Ladron’s ship. Both crews faced each other. Ladron didn’t notice that Arya’s men had swung in from behind until it was too late. While her new double-bladed steel spear cut through them, Gendry’s Warhammer pummeled them. They took possession of the ship and its cargo. All the prisoners were released. The Do Nenish people were thrilled even though most of the prisoners weren’t their people.

  The Do Nenish scout explained the situation to Arya, Gendry and Salladhor as everyone celebrated their victory. “These prisoners were going to be sent to the mines. They are the fortunate ones. Those twelve men and women from Pasix were going to sacrifice to the sun. Our people were going to be given to Magnus Gulo.”

  “A Magnus Gulo?” Gendry glanced at Arya who shrugged her shoulders.

  “The Magnus Gulo is the Athit king’s pet. It is the symbol of his power. Legends says it fought the mighty winged lizards and drove them away from our lands. The king has recently got a female Magnus Gulo and wishes to breed it with his male. Instead of nine victims, he demands twenty-seven slaves to be fed to the beasts.” The scout was fuming. “Everyone knows the beast doesn’t require that amount of food to survive. The king just enjoys watching people suffer. His beast relishes killing as well. If only that beast would die, I know people would rise up against him.”

  Gendry realized what Arya was thinking. “Don’t.”

  “The beast relishes killing, and I was trained in death.”

  “It’s too dangerous. There is no way to even get close to the creature.”

  “I could get close to it.”

  He granted her that. “If these creatures are as fierce as they say, you need a group of fighters to come with you.”

  Arya picked a spiked fruit and rubbed its juice on her arm. “Look my skin is almost the same color. We could pretend to be slaves and go kill it. No one will notice us.”

  “What about some of our hair? All of us don’t have black hair.”

  “I have some Tyrosh dye.” Salladhor offered.

  Gendry was taken back by his reply. “You want to risk your life for this?”

  “A large cargo of fruit is good,” Salladhor remarked. “A large cargo of gold from the Athit’s golden palace is much sweeter.”

Chapter Text

     Daenerys told no one about her sudden journey except for her two kos, Aggo and Jhogo. They had been with her since her beloved Khal Drogo. She wanted them with her on this trip. In hopes, that some of Drogo’s courage and strength was with them. They flew on her dragon Drogon to Qarth. She may have lost a daughter, but she swore that she would regain her son. They met Quaithe outside the city’s walls. The masked woman knew things. Daenerys hoped that she could lead her to her kidnapped son. Her kos were leery of the masked woman.

    “Mother of Dragons,” Quithe bowed to her. “What do you wish to know?”

   “Where is my son? Men took him. We searched all of Westeros for him. Who stole him?” She knew the red woman, Melisandre, was involved. She had worked on her own with Stannis. The red priestess, Kinvara said that Melisandre had been working on her own again with this.

   “To the wind, which spoiled girls danced by.”

   “Where exactly?!” Daenerys demanded. “I want him back. No more riddles!”

   “You don’t listen. As I said before to you, ‘if you wish to go forward, you must go back.’ Do you not know who you are and who you will become? They call your dragon Balerion reborn. You ride on him. To gain your son, you must become Blood and Fire. You will receive a treasure far greater than Aegon ever could.” Quaithe gestured to the crowd approaching them. “Your path is full of perils.”

   The crowd came to Daenerys with sword in hand. “We dem-…” Drogon flashed his grin at them. “We would like you to leave now.”

   “There is nothing for me here.” She turned around to the relief of the crowd. As she departed, she wondered what she was meant to be queen of, if not Westeros.

   The “Bay of Dragons” brought a smile to Daenerys’ face. Her former Hand Tyrion had given her reports on progress of the three kingdoms. She went to Astapor. She was glad that she did. Astapor’s port had been under attack by a small pirate fleet. Drogon set on fire to three ships. The pirates caught sight of Drogon flying overhead. His massive body blanketed them in dreaded darkness. They promptly retreated in haste.

   The soldiers of Astopor cheered for her as she flew down. Their ruler, Yezzan zo Qaggan kneeled down to her. “Great queen, I humbly greet you. Once again, you have saved your people.”

  She signaled for him to rise. “Who is beseeching you?”

    “They claim to be pirates and sellswords raiding our wealth.” Yezzan stood up. “I believe them to be funded by one of the slaver kingdoms. They fear our accomplishments. Please allow me to show you them.” He escorted her to the former Walk of Punishment. It had been turned into the Road of Art. “I must confess. At first, I didn’t believe there could be life without slavery". There were small huts scattered along the streets. The huts had inside paintings on display for all to see. “We were destined to be trapped forever in our low positions. I couldn’t truly trust being king myself. In my heart, those late kings were right about me. I could never be one of them.” Musicians walked past them. They played bladder pipes and lutes. “Then, you crushed our evil revolt against you. I fearfully abolished slavery.” He stopped at a large statue.

   “Is that made out of sand?”

   “It is,” he proudly answered her. “We have monthly contests. I took Tyrion’s suggestion and promoted the new endeavors. Astapor has made more money than it had with slavery. It’s not about the wealth. It’s about how much we have risen.” They entered a small shop. “We have skilled glassblowers, cooks, artist and musicians. We rivaled Lys for a peaceful retreat. Pentos enjoyed our creative glass cups and pitchers. Braavo has purchased our new musical instrument Xun Zink. You should stay here for a little while and please see how from the greatest to the latest of your people are happy here.”

   She wished to be content. Neither Astapor nor Westeros felt like home. She continued to wonder if any place would ever feel like home. “My heart rejoices at their welfare. Though, I still worried about their safety. Has there been many attacks?”

    “Very few. They’re cowards. They won’t dare come near us when the Ironborn fleet is docked here. We have been gathering volunteers to be archers for our army. Last month, Braavos has agreed to an alliance and will soon be granting us a small fleet of ships.”

   “What about land assaults?”

   “The returning Dothraki aided us for a time.” His face sunk. “Once they left, the enemy forces have made camp on our outskirts. Their constant raids have blocked the use of our roads. They strike like vipers and vanish completely.”

   “Perhaps, we can flush them out with my dragon.” She consulted her kos and the city captains for a battle strategy. A captain gifted her a sheath for her new sword. As the blade touched it, the sheath melted. She stuck the sword into the sea. It boiled the water. The strange green blade was hot to the touch. Daenerys named the sword “Greenfire.” 

    Barristan the Bold and Jorah Mormont had taught her to fight a little. A dragon queen was a highly desirable prize. They reasoned that she needed to protect herself. She may have not been a warrior queen. On occasion, she could conceive a good battle plan. Drogon flew above a known location and rain down some dragon fire. They would pretend to land out of frustration and tiredness. The enemies would be tempted to surround her and Drogon. Meanwhile, her army would ambush them. It was dangerous, but what did she have left to lose?

   Daenerys departed from Astapor victorious. They gifted her golden lace cups. She traveled to Yunkai next. Tyrion had selected Ben Plumm as king. They had heard good reports of his kingdom. Ben bestowed upon Daenerys a large crate of olive soap. “We have built the most luxurious bath houses. They clean the body and ease sore muscles.” King Ben explained as he ordered a servant to bring a fat bull to Drogon. “We are working on various different kinds of soaps and techniques to relief sore muscles by use of pressure. As you can see, we are prospering. The scared servant fled once Drogon cooked the bull with his fire. “I can also see, how your control over your dragon has improved. I’m sorry to hear about the deaths of the other two dragons. Perhaps, you can find more dragon eggs to hatch.”

   The thought of “more dragon eggs” hadn’t ever crossed her mind before. Could she even hatch more eggs? Did she want to do it? So many of her children have been taken from her. She accepted King Plumm’s gifts and left for Meereen. Daario Naharis would help her forget her troubles for a while. At least, he had done so in the past. Daario, the King of Meereen, and his two small children greeted her with opened arms. It pained her heart since she couldn’t embrace her own son. Still, she mustered up a smile, “your majesty. Would you please introduce me to your family?”

  “It sounds so strange when you say it,” Daario chuckled. His children became distracted and ran to play with the other children before he could introduce them.

  A woman walked towards them carrying a baby. “I’m sorry. They often act like wild zorses.”

  “This is my wife, Senaera the She-Snake.” Daario touched the woman’s arm. She wasn’t at all what Daenerys had expected. She had a very muscular body and was mostly bald. Her nose was crooked. The injury had probably been caused by an old blow to it.

  “She-Snake?”

  Both Daario and his wife chuckled. “I used to be a pit fighter,” she clarified. “Oh, you should come visit the pits.”

  “You opened the fighting pits?!” Daenerys almost gasped.

   “They’re no longer pit of misery and death. They’re more like tournaments of Westeros just with more flair. Come see,” he invited her. They all sat in the royal box in the stadium. Daario never flaunted his position with fancy clothes or much luxuries. His guards were treated like dear companion and sat with them. Her Unsullied had been loyal to her out of respect and admiration. His men were loyal out of friendship. They were fond his family and viewed them as their own. The pit was indeed different than the previous ones. The pits hosted Westerosi tournament events, horse racing, people racing and wrestling. “We allow both free men and women to participate in all event together except wrestling. People have come from all over like Dorne and Yi Ti. They take part in events or simply watch. All their money pours into improving the city. We are thriving.” He leaned in close to her ear. “You are thriving too for a dead woman.”

   It took her a moment to understand what he had meant. “I can understand why the Seven Kingdoms might presume me dead.”

   “Were you overthrown?” Daario was ready to fight in her behalf again.

   She wondered if he would feel that way after he learned the truth. Westeros had made her such a weak woman. “No, I left the Seven Kingdoms.”

   “From all that Jorah had mentioned about Westeros, I can see why you would leave. They seemed like such a boorish dull lot. You left due to this, right?”

  “Something like that,” Daenerys grinned.

  “Where is Jorah Mormont?” He glanced over her shoulder at the two kos. “I doubt he would stay behind in Westeros.”

   Her smile dropped. “He died protecting me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear. He was a good man and a great fighter. At least, he died the way that he would have wanted to.”

   “I named my son after him. Someone stole my little Jorah from me. I’m searching for him.”

   Daarios bowed his head to her. “My queen, all my resources are at your disposal.”

   Unbeknown to her, someone else was searching for her. He was caught sneaking around the Great Pyramid. The young man was brought before Daenerys and King Daarios.

  “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” The captain of the Meereen soldiers demanded.

  The man didn’t answer.

  Daenerys repeated in the Common Tongue. “Who are you?”

   “Sam Tarly.”

  “I know a Samwell Tarly and you’re -“

  “Sam Tarly,” he moved his hands to emphasis the shorter name. “I’m Samwell Tarly’s son.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I found. Well, actually my mother stumbled upon Maester Norren’s secret journal. I have journeyed here to discover a land called Npo Bata.”

  “What do you hope to discover there?”

  “I hope to find what happen to Nettles and her dragon Sheepstealer.”

   “Why does this maester believe her to be there?”

   “He met her son Daemon who was named after his father.”

   “Who was his father?”

   “Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince.”

   This meant Daenerys might have more family remaining than Jon Snow. True, they would be distant relatives at best. Her heart leaped at the prospect. “I have never heard Npo Bata.” She had traveled over most of Essos. This worried her. “Does anyone know where it is?”

   The entire Meereen court stared at one another. Finally, one of Daario’s personal guard captains, Widower, scratched his head. “I recall some men from there in the sellsword company ‘Wolf of the Rose.’”

  “No, no,” the other captain Jokin corrected. “You must mean either the ‘Company of the Rose’ or the ‘Wolf Pack.’”

  “Where have you been the last hundred years? The two sellsword companies merged together.”

  “How can you expect me to remember? There are dozens of sellsword companies in Essos.”

  “Excuse me,” Daenerys interrupted. “Do you know where this ‘Wolf of the Rose’ company is at?”

  “They were here a little ago for the joust. I think that they were heading to Volantis which is unusual. They tend to work in the north or around Yi Ti. The Volantenes must be offering a pillar of gold to bring them over.”

  Jokin grabbed Widower’s shoulder. “Didn’t you hear about the raids all down the Rhoyne?”

  “It should be investigated.” She wanted to go find them, but she wanted to find her son as well.

  Daario heard her hesitation. “Don’t fret, my queen. Go learn about this. I have sent out men on that other matter. You will be informed the moment, that we discover anything.” He signaled to the soldier, who was carrying the young man’s sword. “Do you wish this returned to him?”

  She inspected the blade. “It’s Valyrian steel.”

  “Heartsbane.” He confirmed what she already knew. This pleased her greatly. “It’s our family sword.”

  “You’re a knight.” Jon had told her that his friend was a scholar more than a fighter.

  “I’m an acolyte maester. Though I do know fencing, I’m not a knight yet.”

  Daenerys picked up his sword and handed it to him. “You’re also my traveling companion.”

   Her kos and a group of Meereen soldiers came along with them. Any sliver of doubt that she might have disappeared when she met the rest of the Westerosi crew. Sam gave her a copy of Maester Norren’s journal. She could tell that it was copied by Samwell Tarly. Jon’s friend had gifted them a few books which he wrote. His son Sam informed her that his father made another copy and sent it to Winterfell for safekeeping. The original had been given to Oldtown.

  She sat in her private cabin and began reading the journal. It seemed like a common journal. It mentioned his life, the war, the reign of the regents and life under Aegon the Third to Aegon the Fourth. His words turned bitter as he grew older and sickly. He confessed.

  “Men pestered me about Prince Daemon and Nettles. I remembered Grand Maester Munkun demanding that I changed my testimony. He wanted me to say that Daemon didn’t treat Nettles as child. She was his lover. They wanted me to say that I lied to the small council. I didn’t lie. Daemon did treat Nettles as a child. She brought out a kindness in him. The war had been sheer madness. Prince Daemon had been constantly quarreling with Queen Rhaenyra. He wished to join the front lines and lead the fighting. She kept refusing him on all matters. I believe that she didn’t want him to receive all the glory for winning the war. He was frustrated and casted aside by her ambition. Yet, he never sought Nettles’ affections. The young maiden was fiery girl. Despite Mushroom’s account, she was quite pretty especially when she wore a gown. The rumors arose. I couldn’t believe how far the queen would go. She ordered the poor girl’s death. It wasn’t right. It went against the Law of Six, which Prince Daemon would have received six strokes. As for witchcraft, everyone knew this to be a lie. I knew that the small council except for maybe Lord Velaryon would have supported her execution. If they could lie so easily, why couldn’t I? Nettles had been a courageous and loyal soldier. Her only fault was winning the heart of the Prince. To kill a guest, that was sinful.

  “Queen Rhaenyra wanted the girl’s head. The singers wanted a scandal. The maesters wanted a story to bring them fame. I kept to my lie and ignored them all. I almost forget the truth that I buried so deeply.

  “Until a few days ago, a new servant came to attend me, a cripple old maester. The new maester for the castle didn’t noticed me anymore nor did most of the household. I knew who he was the moment that I saw him. He had his mother’s soft brown skin and her sweet heart, which she concealed from most people. He inherited his father’s strong stature and piercing purple eyes. He came to visit the Seven Kingdoms and call on me.

   “Of course, his name was Daemon. He assured me that his mother was faring well in Npo Bata. His wife’s death had stirred him to go Westeros. I was in utter shocked when he mentioned his mother’s dragon Sheepstealer was still alive, and his daughter had a newly hatch dragon of her own. I could imagine how much the crown would crave such information. They would torture this young man for days to get it. That is how I knew withholding the truth was right. They would have killed Nettles if I had told them, she was carrying Daemon Targaryen’s child. Nettles’ son wished to remain with me for a year or two. I begged him to leave because I fear for his safety. In addition, he had his father and mother’s adventurous spirit. He should travel the world and not be stuck with a dying old man. I may have been unremarkable maester, but at least, I will die a good man.”

  There was a knock at her cabin door. “Come in,” Daenerys placed the parchment down on to her desk.

  “I hope that I didn’t disturb your reading.” Maester Roone walked in.

   “I’m all done.”

   “Isn’t it remarkable? I have so many questions now. Maester Samwell and I discussed how this discovery could shed some light on the war, on places in Essos and on dragons.” His enthusiasm seemed to brighten the room. “I hope you don’t think me rude. You have firsthand experience about dragons. When you have time, I would like to ask you questions about your amazing Drogon.”

  “I would be delight to. Honestly, I wish I knew more about dragons.”

  “Perhaps, we’ll find this ‘Wolf of the Rose’ in Volantis, and they’ll be able to help us.”

  “Perhaps,” Daenerys didn’t hold out much hope. The last time that she visited Volantis was with her brother. He had been inquiring assistance to attain the Iron Throne. All the people there did was take his money and snicker behind his back. Before they left the city, the sellswords were openly mocking him as the “Beggar King.”

Chapter Text

    Wybert held a bag of gold in one hand and a cup of fruit beer in the other. “People don’t usually pay this much to train soldiers.”

    “This particular student is very challenging.” Primola rose from her desk. “If you agree to this arrangement, you must swear secrecy.”

    “I can control my tongue.” He quickly swallows his beer and attached the bag of money to his belt. Though he had many questions to ask her, a good sellsword keeps his mouth closed. It was hard not to speak when she introduced him to the boy. The boy had been sitting on the ground of the red temple’s private garden. A large stick laid on his lap. The boy had small strains of hair on his head and few strains for his eyebrow. His lips were barely noticeable. All of these strange features pale compared to his scarlet scales. “Is he from Sothoryos?”

    “This is Jorah Targaryen.” Primola gestured to the boy. Jorah stood up and spit at her. “He is still in a foul mood. I’ll leave you to your work.”

    The boy pointed his stick at him. “You’re one of them!”

    “Actually, I am a sellsword from the Gallant Men.” Wybert walked towards him. “They’re paying me to train and protect you. Once the money is gone, I will be gone as well.” The boy contemplated his words. “You hate them.”

    “I’m mad.”

    “Anger keeps you going, but it also blinds you in a fight.” Wybert swayed his head back and forth as judged the boy’s expression. “Why are you angry at them?”

    “They hurt my mother.”

    Behind all the scales, he was just a small boy. Wybert felt bad for him. “Well, a warrior can stop them from hurting her. Do you want to fight them?” Jorah nodded his head. “Good, here is your first lesson.”

    After a few days, Primola heard about Jorah’s motivation to fight. She confronted Wybert. “We aren’t paying you to have the boy hate us.”

    “I use what I have,” he shrugged his shoulders. “As for hating you, I didn’t cause that. You have only yourselves to blame. You hurt his mother.”

    “How do you know that?”

    “You should be asking how does he know that? He heard her cries.”

    “She is a dangerous woman.” She tried to defend herself. “She isn’t even his mother.”

    “She kidnapped him as a baby?”

    “It doesn’t matter. Gather your belongings. We are leaving in the morning.”

    The red priestess was right. A sellsword doesn’t care about those things. Yet, he should always know what assignment involves. Most of Esso knows about the tension between the slaves and their masters. The slave trade has been in trouble for a few years now. The Free Cities tried to ignore the truly free cities of the new Bay of Dragons. The dragon queen has sent ships to protect the small islands from raids. The ships have grown more successful as time has gone by. The number of incoming slaves had started to wane. The slave masters are worried about their own slaves seeking freedom.  The R’hollor saw their weakness and are preparing to pounce. The slaves and townspeople may not know this. The sellswords know all too well since the masters have been attempting to garner their aid.

    Honestly, he doesn’t care about the conflict. “Know your limit,” he had told Jorah that morning. “Know your strength, your weakness, and your heart.” His heart was pretty hard from many years of killing. Wybert felt it must have been steel by now. He was wrong. When he discovered Jorah’s mother, he couldn’t leave her behind. When Wybert opened the door to her cell and went to unlock her chains, Orlege seemed ready to yank him back. The Fiery Hand obeyed the orders of the red priest and priestess despite Orlege obvious distain. Primola tried to remain calm. “What are you doing?”

    “I’m bringing her with us.” He uncuffed her and wrapped his cloak around the bruised naked woman. He lifted the green eye woman up into his arms and confronted Primola. She considered the matter thoroughly before yielding and allowing him to pass the door. Some of the Fiery Hand followed him on to their ship. He proceeds to place the poor woman on his bed in the chamber assigned to him aboard the ship. He left her briefly to retrieve food. She was still lying on the bed as he entered the room. He felt something missing on his belt. “So, you’re planning to stab me once I sit next to you, or once I go to hurt you.”

   “I only punish people for bad deeds.”

   He held up the tray of food. “Reasonable,” He set down the tray in front of her.

   She took a piece of bread. “Is Jorah alright?”

   “He is,” Wybert informed her. “Would you like to see him?”

   “I would, but…” She tugs on his cloak.

   He tosses her a shirt and a pair of pants. She gives him a confused look. “Don’t worry. They’re clean mostly.”

   She was dressed by the time that he arrived with the boy. Jorah immediately rushed into her opened arms. She kissed his forehead.

   “They say he isn’t your son.” Wybert drank some black ale while his eyes remained fixed on her.

   “He isn’t.” She caressed the boy’s face. “His mother is a beautiful queen. One day, when it is safe, she will return to him. She loves him very much.”

   “Of course,” Wybert doubted anyone could love a hideous little boy like that. Yet, this woman adored him. “Where are my manners? I’m Wybert of The Gallant Men.”

    “I’m Chanit of Quagg.” She broke off a piece of cheese. “I’m from the Neck. Are you from the Westeros as well?”

    “Indeed, I was born to an uphill life. Westeros held nothing for me, so I journeyed here. Esso was everything that they said, ‘a place where money washes away your name and honor.’ One day, I will build my grand house on hill with my own name.” He tilted his head to Jorah, “not even a smile. What has your life been like?”

   Jorah stared up at Chanit. “We lived in a swamp.” She answered for them.

    “This is going to be a long trip.” He had been wrong. Their trip passed by quickly. He was happy to away from Volantis. “The wonderous amora of Lys,” He breathed in heavily. “The people regard beauty in the highest esteem.” Chanit and Orlege were standing next to him on the deck of the ship. “A new city is like a new day. We should visit a pillow house.”

   “A fine idea,” Primola agreed to Chanit and Orlege astonishment.

    Wybert took them to the Perfumed Garden. He insisted that Chanit didn’t wear the mask. He had been to some pillow houses before, but this made those dirty huts. It was like entering a grand palace with lush indoor gardens. The main was adored in golden statues of the Weeping Lady and had several fountains. The guests’ table were on elevated floors so they could watch the dancers in the middle. Silver vines draped down the ceiling. There were private rooms separated by different aromas. They say that the lilac and lavender rooms were reserved for royalty. The attendants would place a tray of roses, jasmine, cinnamon or other sweet smells in front of you to choose. Wybert rubbed a lemon blossom in his hand. Orlege stubbornly refused to even look upon it. His soldiers were more inclined. Chanit lifted up the cinnamon stick to sniff it.

   A few bed slaves approached them. A male bed slave touched her arm. He was very handsome with his golden hair and light purple eyes. Chanit grabbed a fork with lightning speed jabbed it into a fruit near his arm. “I only miss once.”

   The man understood and backed away. Wybert and two Fiery Hand soldiers departed for the lemon blossom room. He was having a lovely time with a beautiful Rhoynish girl, when Orlege stormed in. “We are leaving now.”

   “Wait, why?” Wybert and the two soldiers couldn’t fathom a reason.

   “The other Lys’ specialty.” None of them need them need to be told twice. They pushed aside the bed slaves and made their way out of the house.

   Wybert couldn’t believe it. This was too upscale to allow poisons. “Who died?”

   “Thankfully, no one did.” Orlege begrudgingly admitted, “Chanit noticed the poison.”

   “They must have not used the Tears of Lys. That potion is tasteless, clear and dissolves.”

   Chanit explained, “you still have to be careful. The assassin placed it in a bottle of unusual flavored wine. It didn’t fully dissolve. I thought it was a spoiled wine at first.”

   “The fiend started feinting immediately when attention was drawn to it.” Orlege groaned, “my only regret is that I didn’t have a thorough discussion with her.”

   “Here I thought you were simply a warrior.” Wybert regarded her with respect.

   “I’m not,” Chanit quickly objected. “I’m a trapper. My eldest sister is an herb gatherer. She taught me many things.”

   The red priestess wished to teach her more. Primola desired her to become a follower. They dwelled in the temple in Lys. It was very small in comparison to the Volantis’ one. There were few followers. She could spend more time with Chanit. She had her attend three ceremonies. When Primola invited to a sacrifice, it was the last one that she attended. A little boy was tied up in the center of the courtyard. Piles of wood was placed around him. A red priest brought over a torch. Jorah realized what was about to happen. He looked up at Chanit in shock. Wybert noticed that she carefully slipped him something into his little hands. The priest lit the wood. Jorah rushed over and kick the burning wood aside. He cut the rope from around the little boy to free him.

   “Enough!” Jorah stuck out the dagger towards the red priests who were trying to stop him.

   Primola reasoned with him. “A sacrifice is needed to protect our people. The pain is only momentary. The Lord of Light commands it.”

  “Does he?” Chanit retorted sarcastically. “You sacrifice those easy to lift in to the fire. You give freely those whom speak against you. One who is truly powerful doesn’t need acts of fear. People need fear so you gain power over others.”

  “What are you accusing me of? I only obey the vision in the flame.”

   “The Marsh King threw the innocent and the disloyal into the flame. How are you any different?” Primola noticed some of the crowd being to listen to her. She was becoming upset with Chanit. Chanit held up her arms. “Who am I to say anything if you content with your service to your lord? Though, I ask you.” She pointed to a master with his slave. “Is you lord content with your service? Have you ever heard of a master being pleased with a disobedient slave?”

    This woman could barely read or write. Yet, she wasn’t supposed to be this intelligent. Primola wanted to throw the man in the crowd who was interpreting her words and Chanit into the fire. She feared the crowd rioting against her if she did. When Orlege came forward, she worried what his temper might cause.

   “If the boy won’t be our sacrifice, then we’ll find something else.” Orlege leered at Jorah. He snatched the dragonfly from off the boy’s shoulder. Chanit held back Jorah from attacking Orlege. “You pet will do.” He tossed the dragonfly into the fire.

   Chanit stood her ground. “We are bringing the boy back to his mother and father.” She kept her arms around Jorah and the little boy as they walked slowly away. Wybert followed behind them.

   “It’s a rare sight to see someone who is so irritated and enraged. I swear her eyes were going to burst into flames.” Wybert found the situation amusing. “Do you wish to die?”

   “Does anyone wish it?” She countered as Jorah attempted to converse with the boy. He was successful, and the little boy lead the way. “We are going to die. It’s rare to die for something better than yourself.”

  “Your people must be annoying civilized and peaceful.”

   “No one is perfect. We all have hidden flaws.” There was a sadness to her voice that suggested a long story.

    Wybert preferred not to know and remained quiet until they arrived at the boy’s mother. She was a slave that worked in the brothel. She had been overjoyed to see him. She wrapped her arms tightly around her son. She fervently thanked them with tears in her eyes and offered them some money. Of course, Chanit refused it. She became distracted by the familiar sound of the Common Tongue. “Don’t get involve.” She ignored him. It was a young girl fighting against a slave master grip. “That’s a more exotic brothel.” He called out to her. “It’s not safe.”

    The slave master had four guards flanking him as he discussed prices with the brothel owner. Chanit interrupted them. “What do you want?”

    “Tell him that I want the brown hair girl.” Chanit ordered.

    “He asked how much money you will offer?” Wybert reluctantly interpreted. She pulled out all the coins in her and Jorah’s pockets. The slaver laughed at the amount. She turned to Wybert who shook his head. There were faint cries coming from the brothel and sinister laughter. Suddenly, she sprung on the slaver and placed a dagger at his throat. “Tell him that I’ll give his life and the coins for the girl. It’s more than he is worth.”

    The guards gripped their swords. However, in such close quarters, she might have the advantage. Wybert didn’t know how well she fought. She was quick. Thankfully, the slaver accepted the deal. The slave had proven to be difficult and not very valuable. They still hastily moved away with the girl. They stopped when they were a safe distance.

    “I’m Chanit.” She kneeled down to the girl. “This is Jorah and Wybert.” She pointed to herself and Jorah. “We’re from the north.”

    “North of the Wall?!” There was excitement in the little brown-haired girl’s voice.

   Chanit held the girl’s shoulder. “No, but Jorah’s father is Jon Snow.” The girl breathed a small sigh of relief. “We’ll protect you.”

   “I can protect myself.”

   “What is my little warrior’s name?” Chanit smiled.

   “Zaza.” Jorah went over and shook the girl’s hand.

   Chanit returned Wybert’s dagger. “You’re a skilled pick pocketer.” He slid the blade into its’ sheath.

    “What?” The word was foreign to her. He simply chuckled and started walking back.  They were heading to the temple and saw Moqorro standing outside of it.

   “We’re sailing to Tyrosh.”

   Primola stood unhappily next to him. “Why?”

   “Queen Daenerys is dead. We’re leaving now.” Moqorro seemed more annoyed than upset.

   They obeyed and gathered their belongings. Chanit gently stroke Jorah’s face and whispered. “Don’t believe him. Your mother is alive and will find you.” He appreciated her concern, but he wasn’t worried. Zaza was deeply troubled by the news.

   “The slavers that took me from my home. They mentioned this word ‘Tyrosh’ often. Please, I don’t want to go there again.” The girl clung to Chanit.

   “We don’t have a choice. We must follow the stream until we can grab a branch to pull to safety.” Chanit reasoned. “This Tyrosh must be closer to home. There might be ships that could lead us back north.”

   Chanit wasn’t the only one hopeful. Moqorro had his own hopes. Once they arrived at the port, Wybert observed, “where are most of their ships?”

   Primola stretched her arms. “The Iron Queen’s fleet has been ravaging their ships. Several ships are at the bottom of the sea. The Tyroshi slavers are fools to engage in warfare with Ironborn warriors.”

   Moqorro grabbed Jorah’s arm. Chanit immediately lunged for him and clawed him. Orlege yanked her off and threw her against the ship. Zaza ran towards the soldier. Orlege slapped back the little girl. Chanit positioned herself between Zaza and Orlege.

   “Do you wish me to punish the woman for injuring you?” Orlege stared at the blood on Chanit’s finger.

   Moqorro examined the wounds on his arm. “Not now, if we need to bleed someone later, she will do.” He dragged Jorah along. “Come my little prince. It’s time for you to begin your journey to become a dragon.” He brought Jorah to house near the Bleeding Tower.

   The top room was set aside especially for them. It contained many books and scrolls about the Targaryens and about dragons. “You will be molded into our Dragon Champion.” Jorah felt his heart race as Moqorro set a small box in front of him. “All true Targaryen warriors have one.” There was a dragon egg inside. The boy carefully lifted it and held it up against his skin. It was scaly like him. “It will hatch. Once the dragon is big enough, you will cleanse the Free Cities for the Lord of Light.” Moqorro expected him to study the scrolls and books every day.

   He got to see Chanit during his daily lessons with Wybert. The sellsword had agree to train Zaza since she was about Jorah’s age. Wybert believed that they could spar together. While Wybert showed Zaza a move, Jorah informed Chanit. “He is arranging a room for me to sleep in away from you.”

   She could hear his distress. “He might be worried. There is a lot of tension in the city. Many slaves are openly discussing the Grey Worm. They call him the plague of the slavers. Masters and merchants are furious. There are fewer new slaves being brought in.”

   “I don’t think that is why he wants to keep me away. He wants to control me and make us forget about each other.”

   “He won’t succeed.” Chanit vowed. “I’ll stay by your side.”

   Primola hadn’t visit Jorah’s training with Wybert before. In Tyrosh, she was observing it often. “What have you been learning in your studies with Moqorro?” She questioned Jorah.

  “Vermithor, the Bronze Fury and Silverwing who is his lady love,” Jorah grinned. “Their riders were the good king and queen.”

  “Dragons?”

  “Vermithor was a large dragon. He lived most of us his life in the Dragonmont which has a volcano. Some maesters believe that dragons come from volcanos.” Jorah may have been leery of Moqorro. He did thoroughly enjoy his lessons about dragons.

  Wybert teased, “would you like to ride a dragon?”

   “Moqorro gave me a dragon egg.” Jorah hunched down. “I’m not suppose to tell anyone about it.”

   “Where did he get an egg from?” Wybert wondered out loud.

   “A long time ago, Kiera of Tyrosh sold her late husband’s dragon egg. The red priest at the time brought it and stored it in the Red Temple in Volantis.” Primola answered to his amazement.

  “So, the boy has the egg.” Wybert amused. “Does he have to sit on it to hatch it?”

   Primola rolled her eyes at him. “Most dragons hatched on Dragonstone.”

   “The island of weapons,” Chanit retold the old story. “The Children of the Forest gathered dragonglass there to forge their weapon. Dragonglass is created by the heat of the volcano. They say the heat never truly leaves the glass. It simply sleeps until the fire returns.”

   “Interesting,” Primola respond out of politeness. She cared more about what Moqorro planned to do with a dragon. “We aren’t near Dragonstone. How does he plan to hatch this one?”

   “Is Dragonstone in Esso?” Primola shook her head at Wybert. “Didn’t the dragon queen hatch her dragons here? How did she do it?”

   Primola didn’t know. Moqorro must have learned about it. He invited Chanit and Zaza to come with him for something special. Chanit told Zaza to go with Wybert. She paid him a small ring to take care of her. “Where did you steal that from?” Wybert tossed the gold ring up in the air.

   “Inside a lizard lion’s belly.”

   “Then again, it might be better not to ask. Are you certain that you want her to go with me? I’m heading to a pillow house.”

   “Yes, now please leave.” Chanit gestured to him. He took the girl with him.

   Moqorro didn’t seem to care or notice Zaza absence. Jorah and Chanit were brought to a large gathering. All eyes were on the three people tied to poles. One was a Dothraki, Lhazareen woman, and a man in a mask. There are piles of wood surrounding them. Moqorro gives him the dragon egg. “Go in the center.” He pointed to Jorah. The boy refused. Orlege drew his sword and threatens Chanit. “If you don’t, she’ll be sacrifice as well.” Jorah reluctantly obeyed. Moqorro has them engulfed in fire. After the fire dies out, Jorah is the only one left standing. He held the unhatched dragon egg in his hand. Moqorro is furious. It was supposed to work. The newborn dragon was supposed to be their symbol of rebellion. In the dead of night, Moqorro commanded everyone to flee to their ship. The Archon who ruled over Tyrosh had discovered his plot and sent a company of sellswords after them. They made it to their ship and sailed away. However, their sellswords’ ship was following close behind them. “We need a storm.” He seized Chanit. Moqorro tied her arm near her elbow. He took out his knife and started to bleed her.

Chapter Text

   Daenerys’ ship arrived at one of the Volantese ports. The crew observed large pillars of smoke coming from the city. Her kos refused to let her leave the ship. The Widower volunteered to scout the city first. He disembarked alone. Thankfully, he returned promptly and unharmed. “The slaves revolted and took over the city.”

  “That’s good news.”

  His eyes caused her to doubt. “There is still slavery and much bloodshed. We should head to the Old Maid of the Waterfront. It’s safer there, and she would know better what is happening in the city.”

  The old woman had been a slave before. The scar under her one eye attested to it. She had been freed by her husband. After his death, she inherited his wealth, property and business. Her white hair was thin, and she was mostly bald. “Mother of Dragons,” she warmly invited them inside. “I am called the Widow, the Old Hag or the Whore depending on whom you ask. These are my many Sons,” she pointed to her guards. “I guess you’ve seen our city is in chaos. The Old Blood no longer rules. Most of them are slaves now. Benerro, the High Priest of R’hllor, rules Volantis. I would have toasted to the Old Blood’s defeat. However, I am wary of this new king. He fancies burnt flesh and conquest too much.”

   “I thought Kinvara is High Priestess for the Lord of Light.” At least, that is what she had claimed. Daenerys feared this might not be her only lie. Did she tell the truth about their involvement in the kidnapping of her son?

   “We have never heard of her. We did hear rumors that you were dead.”

   “It’s complicated.”

   “Most matters are,” the old Widow chuckled. “I had wished for you to lead the charge of freedom here.”

   “I’m here now.” Daenerys declared. “I’ll do all that I can to help.”

   “You didn’t know our situation until you landed on our shores. What was your original purpose for coming here?”

   “We are looking for a sellsword company called the ‘Wolf of the Rose.’”

   The Widow glanced at her Sons. One of them replied, “a beggar master mentioned them. You should speak with him.”

   “Bring him here,” the Widow ordered before she turned back to Daenerys. “The streets are dangerous. Benerro has rallied up the people into madness. He did this without you. I fear that he doesn’t need you which means he doesn’t care if you live. You should keep your identity a secret and not stay too long.”

  Daenerys wanted to adhere the older woman’s counsel. Yet, she needed to see how bad the city was with her own eyes. She put on a cloak and ventured into the city. Jhogo and Sam came with her. The city no longer had a wet heat and a foul smell of an old man. The fires burnt away the odor and any water in the air. The former masters had been stripped naked with chains around their necks. They were forced to clean up the dead bodies and the animal dung. Their former slaves armed themselves with twigs, so they could beat their masters. An Old Blood mother screamed, while her children were carried off to be sold in either New Ghis or Qarth as slaves. There were slave soldiers and others being tortured into becoming followers of the Lord of Light. Part of their flesh was being burnt as other men were engulfed in flames. Fear controlled the city. In the distance, a large crowd bowed to Benerro. Fear can slay dragons as the ruins of the dragon pit can testify to. She didn’t know how to stop this tyrant. A solution will appear. She hoped. Today was not that day. Daenerys and her companions hurried back to the waterfront.

   A Widow’s Son dragged forward the beggar master. The master groaned, “my memory is fragile. I need some food and drink.” Daenerys handed a Son some coins. The Son went to fetch some food from the kitchen. After the master finished his cup of wine and ate some food, he told his tale. “I used to run a respectable brothel in Selhorys until the Dothraki and pirates raided us. Our slave soldiers weren’t strong enough. We called for help from Volantis and hired sellswords.”

   “The rumors are true about the raids.” The Widow chimed in. “They say these raids have been occurring all down the Rhoyne river. No wonder, the Old Blood didn’t put up as much of a fight against the slave rebellion.”

   “We were defenseless. I was captured by those savage Dothraki. Then, the so-called wolves selswords came to my rescue. They proved treacherous. Once we were away from the danger, they beat me, took my slaves and stole all my money.” He lifted up his arm to show his old bruises.

  The Widow narrowed her eyes, “and you did nothing to deserve it?”

  Before a quarrel could erupt, Daenerys asked, “where are they now?”

  “Pentos. I heard the fiends say that they were sailing there. Please, kind woman, reap a terrible vengeance upon them,” the master pleaded. “They are even worse than the Brave Companions.”

  “I’ll hear what they have to say first before I do anything.”

  “They’ll lie,” he cautioned Daenerys.

  “We should be on our way,” she signaled to her group.

  The Meereen captain Widower hesitated. “Will you be safe here, sweet lady? Benerro’s men will surely come after you sooner or later.”

  “My boys will protect me,” the old woman smiled at her guards. “Though, I wouldn’t mind Grey Worm or the Salt Queen. They have such a fearsome reputation among slavers.”

  “They were last reported at the Stepstones fighting some Myrish ships.” Widower regrettably informed her.

  “Pity.”

   He decided to leave Jokin and a few soldiers behind to reinforce the Widow’s Sons. They sailed straight to Pentos. There was only one man that Daenerys knew and trusted. Illyrio Mopatis had helped her once before. Would he help her again? Illyrio’s servant escorted them inside his manse.

  “My dragon queen,” Illlyrio came over and kissed her hand. “It’s an honor to see you once again in these terrible times.”

  “Terrible times?” Daenerys echoed.

   His face turned grim. “A khal named Pono has killed two other khals and taken their khalasars. He has already devastated Qohor. His riders are raiding Norvos. They say that he is allied with a pirate called Urho the Unwash, has deadly new weapons and is heading to conquer us. We petitioned Braavos for help since we have a small army and a few sellswords. Please tell me my dear queen. We have the support of you and your dragon?”

  “Of course, old friend,” she shook his hands firmly. “I am curious. What sellsword company have you hired?”

  “Wolf of the Rose,” Illyrio pointed. “They’re staying nearby. Would you like to meet them?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Oh yes, you must be exhausted from your trip. You may rest here,” he invited. “I’ll have my servants bring your things to your room.”

  Daenerys moved closer to him. “What kind of men are these ‘Wolf of the Rose’?”

  “Honorable men and women oddly enough.”

   “Do they have any slaves aboard their ship?”

  “No, they abhor slavery.” Illyrio stated. “Under our treaty with the Braavos, we aren’t allowed sellswords. However, the Sealord made a special exception for this particular situation and this company since they have a fine reputation.”

  “So, they have no one from Volantis?”

   “Actually, they do have one freed Volantenes slave, a young red-haired girl. She is such a thin sickly thing. They brought her some medicine. Her health has improved slightly.”

    Though she detested slavers and slave masters, she was highly doubtful of an honorable sellsword. She needed to speak with the girl alone. It wouldn’t be easy. She didn’t want it to seem as if she were spying on them. She hoped that the girl would be present when Illyrio invited the sellswords to dinner. Daenerys didn’t see anyone with red hair in their group.

   The captain of the company had been man named Xandarro. Daenerys couldn’t determine where he hailed from. He had the Dothraki olive skin, but he was too hairy. He had both Valyrian and Ghiscari features. Yet, his appearance seemed common as long as a person didn’t look to closely. Now, his sword stood out greatly. He noticed Sam’s similar blade. “You have a Valyrian steel blade too.”

   “Heartsbane,” Sam held out his sword. “It’s my family’s sword. What’s your sword’s name?”

   “Truth.” Daenerys couldn’t place his accent. Xandarro chuckled as he told the blade’s history. “It’s something few men can handle. The first owner lied to the bank and lost it. The second owner gambled the sword away. The third owner boasted falsely about his skill with a blade. My ancestor killed him and took the sword. It has been in my family ever since.” He sheathed his sword and introduced some of his warriors.

    He had two women warriors. The company affectionately referred to them as the two aunts. Their two girl squires were called their nieces. Marra the Mare and Bathi of Spear weren’t truly connected by blood to their young squires. That was plain to see. Bathi was pure Yi Tish. Though, Daenerys wondered if her violet eyes were common for her people. The woman’s weapon of choice was a bow and a spear. Her niece was Mansi. A young quiet serious girl seemed to be from the Summer Isle. After closer examination, Daenerys observed that Mansi had some Yi Tish features. The other aunt, Marra, resembled a beauty from Lys. Her manners and fighting style had been Dothraki. She was a skilled horsewoman and deadly with an arakh. She flirted with in perfect Dothraki to Daenerys’ ko Jhogo. She was blunt and bold. In contrast, her niece Tzilla was polite and courteous. The girl painfully resembled Daenerys’ dead friend Missandei

    Xandarro presented his more wolf like members. Cregan, Osric and Harlon were of northern descent. Maester Roone recognized Osric as a former acolyte maester who decided to leave the Citadel. He and Sam became involved in a deep discussion with Osric who was the sellsword company’s healer.

   They got distracted by their dinner conversations as they witnessed Drogon devouring a bull. Marra stopped flirting for a moment. “So, that’s how big they get.”

   This drew Daenerys’ full attention. “What do you mean?”

   “Well,” Marra put down her cup. “I’ve never seen a full-grown dragon before.”

   “You’ve seen a baby dragon?” Daenerys’ heart pounded with wild hope.

  “A little boy had a black and green one on his shoulder.”

  “Was his name Jorah?”

Chapter Text

   Athit’s capitol was wonderous. The palace had a fascinating circular design. It reminded Salladhor Saan of Meereen with its’ stone roads and buildings. Many of the roofs had gold sheets to reflect the sun’s light at certain times of the day. Gendry and Arya were puzzled by four large glasses hung up high in the air. “They almost seem like large Myrish far eyes. I wonder if they are used the glass to stare into the sky.” Arya tilted her head up to admire them.

   Gendry peered down at four circles marking on the street. “Why are there chains in the middle of them?”

   Before they could get an answer, Enver signaled them. He and Salladhor separated from them. Arya, Gendry, and six other men were disguised as slaves. They let themselves get herded along with the rest of the slaves. The plan was to kill the two Magnus Gulos while everyone was busy with a festival. It seemed like any normal Westeros festival. Everyone was drinking and dancing. Four slaves were separated from the group. A man and a woman were chained in the middle of the circles. It appeared that their two children had chained to the other circles. The music became louder as it reached noon day. Then, it became silent. The glass caught the sun light and some how burned them. Gendry had never seen anything like this sacrifice. These enemies were intelligent and cruel. Gendry had a bad feeling about their quest.

   The Athit’s king appeared on his throne. His throne was being carried by four slaves. He made some proclamation. The crowd didn’t look pleased. Soldiers rushed into the crowd. They were gathering gold, precious gems, grains, and fabrics. They snatched some people too. The people were placed with the slaves. The king spoke so more as some servants pulled chains attached to large metal frame and opened up the ground below. It revealed a large cave with metal bars on the ceiling. Gendry and all the slaves were dragged to the side of the palace. There was a large stairway leading down into the ground. The soldiers used pikes to drive the slaves through a gridded copper door. Gendry walked over piles of dismembered bodies of men, women and children. He looked around for Arya. His little she-wolf creeped up to him. “Miss me?”

   “I miss a weapon.” He heard gears moving, and people chanting above.

   She handed him a small axe and tossed a pike to Do Nenish scout. “Tell me when they let those monsters loose at us.” Arya searched through some old bones to make some weapons. She hastily gave out weapons to the other trapped slaves.

   “Hurry up,” Gendry kept his back to her, and watched the huge cage door open. A large claw emerged from the darkness on the other side. It shredded through three slaves. The cage door halted. The king screamed furious

   A few soldiers rushed inside the cave to steal the slaves. As they took the weapons, the massive Magnus Gulos yanked up the cage door. Now, they were all its’ prey. The two Magnus Gulos hunted down all who ran away first.

   That was the beasts’ mistake. Arya gestured to Gendry. They charged at one of the creatures.  They aimed for its’ head. Gendry struck at the creature’s paw with the axe. Arya rammed a pike into its’ eye.

   The other Magnus Gulo noticed them. It ran towards them. Arya and Gendry leaped out of the way in separate directions. Gendry landed in a corner all alone. The creature had him trapped there. It carefully leashed out at him. His axe was too short and too small to defeat an elephant sized bear creature. The Magnus Gulo was about to bit him in half. Its’ nose twitched, and it got distracted.

   To Gendry’s horror, it headed to Arya who didn’t have a pike. His she-wolf was never without a weapon. She threw her dagger into the beast’s eye. It was too small to kill it. The Magnus Guol was momentarily halted in his tracks. She seized this opportunity to slid down and snatched a pike. Its claw pinned her down to the ground. Gendry slashed it with the axe. Arya stabbed its’ side with the pike and wriggled her way out. The Magnus Gulo snarled at her. She responded with a long sharp bone into his mouth. It started gagging. Gendry hacked at its’ neck. He had to whack at it a few times. The dark brown fur made it hard to see the blood. “Are you alright?” He called out to her. He heard her moan and rushed over to her.

   “Don’t say anything.” Arya covered her mouth with her hand.

   Gendry looked down. “Is that…”

  “Yes, I vomited.” She exclaimed embarrassed. There was screaming and clashing of metal above them. She grabbed Gendry’s arm. “Come on, we have to meet Sallahor.”

   The streets and palace of Athit was in chaos. The people turned on the soldiers. The soldiers attacked the nobles. Everyone attacked the royal family. Sallahor and his men were creeping away with crates of jewels, gold and silver. Most of the palace ignored him as they fled except one woman. She pleads to Sallahor in her language. He may not understand her words. Her meaning was clear by gesturing to her small daughter. She took her daughter’s hand and placed it on top of his hand. She pointed to the direction of the sea. She torn off the necklace around her neck and fell to her knees. She presented him with the gold necklace.

   “Alright,” Sallahor couldn’t withstand her begging eyes. He held the little girl’s hand. The woman smiled at them as left the palace. He turned to look briefly. He saw her and some others being beheaded.

   “Once the king is proven dark and powerless,” Enver explained as they boarded his ship. “All the royal family is to be killed. The Do Nenish say it is carried out in very brutal ways sometimes.” The boy leaned his head towards the little Athit girl. “What are you going to do with her?”

  “As a prince of the narrow sea,” Sallahor gave a dramatic bow. “It is only reasonable that I take care of this exile princess. I’ll take her back home with me. Perhaps, when she grows up, she’ll marry one of my sons.”

  Enver agreed. “It’s safer for her there. Even our Do Nenish friends seem to wish her harm.”

  “She’ll be alright especially since our little she-wolf has returned.” Sallahor grinned as Arya and Gendry walked on board the ship. Only one Do Nenish scout made it out of the Magnus Gulo pit alive. “Do our warriors wish see our loot? You can claim anything that you like.” They quickly sailed to Do Nen.

  Gendry requested that Enver come with him to negotiation a trade with the Do Nenish. Sallahor shook his head as Gendry brought over a large gray boulder. “Do you know what this?” Gendry asserted.

  “I know it’s no longer a crate of gold.”

  “This is Valyrian steel.”

  Sallahor moved in closer. “Not possible, how did it even get here?”

  “I don’t know,” Gendry shrugged his shoulders. “It’s been there a long time. They gladly give it to me since they can’t use it.”

  “And you’re sure it’s Valyrian steel?”

  “I’m a smith. I have forge and dealt with enough weapons to…” He got distracted by Arya vomiting off the side of the ship. “Are you alright? Did you catch an illness?” He tried to wrap his arms around her.

  “I’m fine.” She slid away, “that rancid monkey fur. I can’t stand it.”

  “No,” Sallahor chuckled. “The baby detests the odor.”

  “What bab-?” Gendry hoisted his love up in the air as she struggled to fully comprehend the matter. “I can’t be.”

  Sallahor patted Gendry’s back and stared at Arya, “She-wolf, you are going have a cub soon. Let’s bring you back to Westeros in haste. Can’t have two wolves on my ship.”

  Gendry warmly embraced her. “If it’s a boy, I’ll teach him how to be a smith. If it’s a girl, you can give her Needle.”

  “I don’t know.” Arya worried. “I have never been a lady, and a mother is much harder.”

  “Don’t fret, my love.” Gendry teased, “we can always travel up north and fetch Nymeria to raise all our children if you like.” They laughed. Gendry kissed her deeply.

Chapter Text

  “Fire and Blood,” Jorah Targaryen didn’t truly understand the dragon’s rage until now. He dreamed of riding a lizard lion and devouring Moqorro. The red priest grew more ill temper each time the dragon egg didn’t hatch. After one failed spell, Moqorro almost hurled the dragon egg at Jorah. This isn’t what cause Jorah to hate him. After he bleed Chanit, he allowed Orlege to be more cruel to them. Moqorro dismissed Wybert at Myr. Jorah begged him to stay. The sellsword refused and repeated, “I’m only loyal to the gold.”

    Primola departed from them in the middle of the night with no word. Jorah, Chanit and Zaza were left locked in a small room during the slave revolt. The human sacrifices were made, but they didn’t help. The slave revolt failed. Chanit volunteered to help the injured. Orlege lets her as long as she helped only his people. Zaza and Jorah would play with Jorah’s dragonglass little figures while they waited. When a pregnant woman came by very ill one day, Chanit helped her regardless of Orlege’s threat. He made good on his threat. She came back to the room bruised and beaten. Jorah stabbed him with a small piece of wood.

   Orlege slapped him with the back of his hand. “If it were up to me, boy, I would beat you bloody. Moqorro says that we can’t waste any of your blood. There’s supposedly power in the king’s blood.” He shut the door behind him

   Chanit grabbed a wet cloth and placed it on Jorah’s sore face. “Did I ever tell you the story of my people’s first battle against the Ironborn?”

   He leaned his face against wet cloth. “No.”

   “Our land was never desirable to outsiders. The Ironborn preferred the fertile Riverland. My grandfather told me once they only fought with us because they like to fight.”

   “Your people must be tough fighters.” Zaza carefully climbed onto Chanit’s lap.

   “We aren’t.” Chanit gently held ZaZa in her arm. Jorah soon crawled over to her side for a hug. “Before dragons came to our land, my ancestor Iorra was a great trapper. She traveled south to fish on the coast. A Mallister’s town was being attacked by the Ironborn. Iorra watched as the townspeople fought and lost to the Ironborn. The raiders stole women and children from their homes. A group of soldiers came to rescue them, but they were defeated as well. She was curious about what would happen to the captives. She followed the raiders to their ship. They raped and chained up the other captives down below except for one man. One of Lord Mallister’s son was tied naked to the deck of the ship. The Ironborn beat him at their leisure. She felt this wrong, and that something should be done to stop it. Our lord would not support her. He didn’t oppose her either. She rallied up members of her family and friends. The raiders outnumbered her and had better weapons. They were very arrogant. Away from the shore, they watched out for large ships. At night, they drank heavily. Iorra and her friends used poison darts. They quietly freed all the captives. Half of the Ironborn were dead by their Salt King realized what had occurred. The Salt King spotted Iorra carrying the son of Mallister off his ship to her boat. He fought her. They fell overboard. Ironborn favor drowning too much. The Salt King attempted to drown her. She was stronger in the water than him. She killed him and his two men that came to his aid. She had the ship set on fire to make their escape. All the captives were brought to shore. She was supposed to return to her swamp with her friends. The son of Mallister was badly injured, so she decided to remain with him. His name was Axel. In the few days, that she spent tending to his wounds, he fell in love with her. His duty had been to his people. When she left for the swamps, he didn’t follow after her. He remained with his people to protect them. Then, winter came. His people were starving. He remembered how winter never froze the swamps. He approached her people and begged for food. The swamps provide for us and nothing more. Iorra asked the Children of Forest. They allowed a small garden on our land for crops only if he obeyed their rules. He had to swear to give up his sword and cultivate the crops himself. We don’t sow seeds. He agreed. A small potion of land near the Bird Pond had been given to him to grow crops during the winter. All the food that he grew was given to his starving people. After the snow melted, he returned to his people and became a maester. His father wasn’t pleased. Axel wasn’t truly happy either. He wished to stay with Iorra whom he married in our customs. Life in the swamp wasn’t for him despite how much he wished it different. He would visit her and their children each winter. His garden still stands to this very day. Sometimes, some crops would appear.”

   Zaza and Jorah fell fast asleep. They felt safe and warm with Chanit. In the morning, they woke up to the harsh day. Orlege decided to take Chanit and Zaza to the market to sell. Jorah tried to stop him, but Orlege mockingly shoved him aside. He snatched one of Jorah’s figures. It was a figure of a direwolf. He casted it into the fire. Orlege didn’t realized how important the little figure had been to Jorah. His father Jon Snow give it to him. Jorah vaguely remembered his father’s smile. He watched it melt in the fire. His dreams from that night appears in his mind. He had been a giant lizard lion who breathed fire on all his foes. Lizard lions couldn’t do that. A dragon could. “A blood sacrifice was needed to awaken a dragon,” Moqorro had pestered him. “It had always been that way.” Jorah didn’t want it to become Moqorro’s kind of malformed dragon. He stared at his dragonglass dragon figure. “What truly is blood and fire?” he thought.

   Orlege dragged Chanit and Zaza around the city. He presented them to buyers. They were very hard to sell. Myrish merchants didn’t want slaves with no talents. The brothel owners had been unimpressed by their appearance. Orlege tried to sell them to a healer. The healer refused. After a long day of no success, Orlege goes for a drink of nectar wine. He chained Chanit and Zaza outside of the tavern.

    A large group of pirates celebrated a victory in the tavern. They also left their slaves outside. Chanit noticed one of the slaves have recently been branded. She passed over some Myrish fire and another herb to the slave. This attracted the attention of an odd bald young man. He came near them and handed Chanit a flask. She took a sip. Then, she gave the rest to Zaza. She thanked him and gave him back his flask. A few minutes, the man returned with a full flask of wine. Chanit again took a single sip before she gave it to the other slaves. The man spoke to her. Chanit couldn’t understand his Valyrian. He didn’t become annoyed by it. He started to sing to her. Zaza thought he was behaving ridicules. Chanit had been impressed by how graceful he moved along while he song. Orlege walked out of the tavern and yanked Chanit and Zaza. The bald man departed.

  Jorah was relieved when they returned. Yet, he couldn’t sleep that night. He stayed up watching them. The dragon egg laid on his lap. It felt warm. His mind was buried in thoughts. So many have tried and failed to hatch a dragon egg. How could a mere boy do it? He realized if he didn’t, that Orlege would take Chanit and Zaza away from him forever.  How could he stop this? “Blood and Fire,” repeated in his head. Dragons simply hatched for their riders. Valyria and Dragonstone had volcanos. His heart raced in his chest. The first dragon lords were simply shepherds. There is power in the king’s blood. He feared his heart might burst. He held Chanit’s hand and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. Suddenly, he just knew. He built a small fire. He placed the dragon egg on it. He took his little dragonglass figure of a sheep and put it on top of the egg. It melted onto the dragon egg. With a small knife, he cut his arm and dripped the blood on to the egg.

 Chanit quickly arose to a shrieking noise. She grabbed her wooden spike and pushed Zaza. The spike dropped out of her hands. She couldn’t believe her eyes. In Jorah arms, there was a tiny green and black dragon. “We’re going home,” he declared to them.

  The Fiery Hand soldiers gasped at the sight of the little dragon on Jorah’s shoulders. He was allowed to walk out of their locked room. They took him to the red temple. Moqorro had almost been euphoric by the newly hatch dragon. “As the flames foretold, our dragon prince has come to help free us.” Moqorro declared to the group. “We will succeed.”

  Chanit stood by Jorah. Zaza slowly crept away from them. “What else did the flames say?” Jorah came closer to him

  “It said that we will conquer and cleanse our enemies with fire. All of the Free Cities will be ours.”

  Jorah stepped closer to him. “What did it say about you? Where will you be?”

  “I will be at your side as the dragon burns all the magisters and their children.”

  “One of you must be lying.” Moqorro felt a pain in his chest. Jorah plunged the dagger deep into him. “The dragon has slaughtered you.” Jorah yanked his stolen blade out. He faced the Fiery Hand. “Don’t dare stop us. We’re going home.”

   The Fiery Hand was baffle as to how to respond. Zaza pushed over a large firepit. In the confusion, Chanit, Jorah and Zaza made their escape. Orlege raced through the city to stop them. They reached the port. However, Orlege had men there. His men grabbed Zaza and Jorah. Chanit took one of the men down, but she was knocked down by another. “I should have killed you long ago.” Orlege pointed his sword at her.

   The bald young man vanquished Orlege before he could kill her. “You can run, or you can fight the second sword of Braavos. If you do, you’re die like the beasts that you are.” He addressed the three soldiers of the Fiery Hand. They chose to fight and perished by the Braavosi sword. He stared at Jorah’s little dragon. “I am Eziyo Dyami. You must be Jorah Targaryen. Regent Brandon Stark has been looking for you.”

  “Stark,” Chanit lowered her dagger. “It’s alright.” She smiled at the children.

  “Come quickly,” Eziyo beckoned. “I have a ship nearby.” He gave Jorah his vest to hide the little dragon in. They boarded the ship with very little attention given to them. He had them go inside his cabin. Once the door shut, the little dragon kicked the vest off. Jorah returned it to him. “Thank you,” Eziyo bowed his head. “The ship is heading to Pentos. I will take you to magister Illyrio Mopatis. He is a friend of your mother.” He noticed Chanit’s scrapes and went to put ointments on them.

  “The children first, please.” She gestured to Zaza and Jorah.

  Eziyo glanced at both of them before returning to Chanit. “Sweet woman,” he gently poured ointment on the cuts on her leg. “You are dearest lily in all the land.” To her embarrassment, he sang to her while he wrapped her leg.

  Zaza thought him odd and explored the room. Jorah stared at Eziyo carefully. He hadn’t yet made up his mind about the bald man. Zaza played with his far-eye. “Are there slaves in Pentos?” She placed it down on the small desk.

  “No, we won’t allow it.” Eziyo lowered Chanit’s pant leg. “We, Braavosi, abhor slavery and forced Pentos to ban it.” He slanted his head. “Did the red priest enslave you?”

  “They kidnapped us from Westeros.” Chanit stood up from the bed.

  “No please, sit and rest.” Eziyo entreated them. “The girl is your daughter?”

  Chanit shook her head and sat down with Jorah tuck to her side. “We are from the Neck, and Zaza is from beyond the Wall.”

  “I imagine that you have many tales to tell,” Eziyo’s eyes widen. “For now, please rest. The cabin is all yours. The commander of the ‘Wolf of the Rose’ has offered his cabin to share. If you have need of me, I will down the corridor.” He kissed Chanit’s hand. “Good night.”

  Jorah and Chanit remained in the cabin for the beginning of their trip. Zaza left quickly out of boredom and curiosity. She had observed two girls about her age. They had brown skin and wooden swords. Zaza sparred with them. Chanit encouraged Jorah to join her. He didn’t want to leave his little dragon especially since he couldn’t get it to eat. “Don’t worry. I’ll look after it.” Chanit promised. “Go receive some sunlight.”

  Zaza sparred with the girl Tzilla who had golden eyes. Tzilla’s instructor had hair a lighter shade of gold. Jorah quietly watched them practice until the other little girl handed him a wooden sword. She had a soft smile that he liked. He sparred with her on top of the deck. Once they finished, she introduced herself Mansi. She and Tzilla were squires for the two women sellswords in the “Wolf of Rose.” They made the trip to Pentos pleasant. Zaza thought that they would depart once they arrived on shore. Strangely, they were all headed to Illyrio Mopatis’s manse.

  Illyrio warmly welcomed Eziyo and the sellswords. Eziyo whispered something into the heavy man’s ear. Illyrio commanded his servants to escort the sellswords to their rooms. The hall was empty of everyone except Illyrio, Eziyo, Chanit, Jorah, and Zaza. Illyrio scrutinized Jorah. “You have your mother’s eyes and her nose, I believe. She and your late uncle stayed here, while her marriage to Khal Drogo was arranged.” He rubbed Jorah’s head. “Where have you been at?” Jorah’s dragon crawled away from Chanit and glided to Jorah. It growled at Illyrio.

  “We were kidnapped by a red priest. I still fear that they are after us.” Chanit informed them.

  “You’re be safe here.” Illyrio was fascinated by the dragon. He only somewhat listened to her. “Until you sail back to Westeros.”

  “I’m not going back there.” Jorah decided.

  “Why?” Illyrio was baffled. “You’re the crown prince.”

  “I was taken from King’s Landing because they wished to kill me for being a monster. I will not rule over them. They’re not my people.”

  “Where do you wish to go?” Eziyo seemed almost willing to take them wherever they liked to go.

  “I don’t know.” Jorah bent his head down.

  “Don’t worry. You may stay here as long as you like.” Illyrio wasn’t simply being kind. He fancied having a dragon.

  Jorah knew this. He had no choice but to accept his offer. They stayed to themselves. They were leery of sellswords except for Zaza. She played with Tzilla often. Chanit was torn between looking after Jorah or Zaza. Jorah realized this and encouraged her to go with Zaza. Chanit refused to leave him. They spent most of their time in the garden.  

  “No more moping,” Zaza grabbed Jorah’s arm. “We are not prisoners anymore. We’re warriors.”

  Tzilla tried to persuade him. “The aunts can teach you how to ride. You’ll love it. Please come with us.” She nudged Mansi. “You can play cyvasse with Osric. And…” Mansi didn’t look at her. “What is it?”

  “Something is watching us.” Mansi carefully surveyed the trees and bushes. Tzilla was about to shrugged it off as a bird until his little dragon emerged. Tzilla pulled back. Mansi held out her hand to it.

  “I wouldn’t do that.” Zaza cautioned. “It doesn’t like anyone but Jorah and Chanit.”

  “You aren’t Yi Tish.” Mansi stared at Jorah. “You must be Targaryen.”

  “He doesn’t look Targaryen.” Tzilla disagreed.

  “Neither did my ancestor Nettles,” Mansi stated. She noticed his uneasiness. “It’s alright. Dragons protected my people for over one hundred years. We would never betray them.”

  He believed her and joined them. Bathi and Marra taught Zaza and Jorah how to ride a horse. Then, the sellsword women let the children spar with each other. Eziyo, Chanit and Osric who was the sellsword company’s maester sat down on the grass and watched them fight.

  “Too much hacking,” Eziyo complained about the Dothraki fighting style. “There is no grace to it.”

  “There’s nothing beautiful about killing.” Marra fired back. “You slaughter a man as you would a boar or a cow.” She waved her arakh. “If you want to prove me wrong, beat me in a duel.”

  “Excuse me a moment,” Eziyo tilted his head to Chanit and went to face Marra. He picked a wooden sword. Marra chuckled. She swung her arakh at him. In second, he had his wooden blade on her throat.

  “Now, Bathi,” Zaza suggested excited.

  “Only if the lady wishes it,” Eziyo bowed to Bathi.

  “I wish to play cyvasse,” Bathi admitted. “But a sword must remain sharp.” She held the hilt of her sword. Their battle was fast and resulted in a draw.

  “What kind of fighting do you do?” Zaza asked Eziyo.

  “It’s Water Dancing.”

  Zaza and Marra chuckled at the name. Chanit stood up for the name. “The children of the forest’s warriors were Wood Dancers. They fought armies of the First Men to protect the forest. They are powerful creatures whom you wouldn’t dare jest at.”

  “Do you know their dance?” Eziyo offered her his wooden sword. “I would like to see it.”

  Chanit shook her hand, “not here and never swords. They fought with daggers and spears deep in the woods.”

  “In the garden, perhaps?” He rose his eyebrow.

  Bathi handed Chanit her spear. Chanit gave the little dragon back to Jorah. She walked over to garden. Once she was there, she moved around in more of a dance than his Water Dance. Most of the sellswords found it peculiar as she tapped the ground and the tree with the spear. He was captivated by it. Marra followed Chanit around. She started to shake her head at her until suddenly Chanit vanished. Her spear appeared behind Marra’s back.

  “Interesting, wood dancing focusing on the surrounding.” Eziyo observed. “Water Dancing focuses on the enemy’s movements. They complement each other.”

  His tone was respectful with a hint of flirtatious. Chanit felt bashful at his attention as Eziyo took her for stroll in Drogo’s old manse. “How long has Jorah been in your care?”

  “Since he was a baby, he nursed from me.” She picked a pepper off a plant.

  “So, you have had a child before?”

  “A baby girl,” she smiled sadly. “She died after a week. My mate left me because of her death.”

  “I didn’t think your Faith allowed a man to leave his wife?”

  “We don’t follow that. A man or woman can leave each other if it proved that one mate can’t have children. I didn’t think he would leave after one dead child. Most don’t leave until three dead babies.”

  “He was a fool. Babies have come to those, who don’t want them. They have come to those, who treat their mothers poorly. A man can have ten sons and lost them all in a fortnight. The memory of love can never be lost.”

  “I don’t understand you, sir.”

  “What do you wish to know?”

  She wanted to say that she couldn’t understand his attention towards her. Instead, she asked, “what is a second sword?”

  “A first sword of Braavosi protects the Sealord. A second sword serves the Sealord’s interest. Currently, the Sealord has commanded me to bring the sellswords to Pentos. He also requested that I keep an eye out for Jorah. He loathed the idea of someone stealing a child.”

  Jorah was also going for a stroll with his three female companions, Zaza, Mansi and Tzilla. They looked at the marble pool and the statue in the center of it. Jorah ignored it and picked cherries from the trees. He gave the girl some of the cherries. They walked past a plumped guard. Zaza whispered to Tzilla. “The statue is a better guard than him.”

  From the third gate, they could see the kennels. Jorah walked towards them. He thought that he spotted a red dog. Upon a closer look, he noticed it was a young lady with red hair. She had been taking a nap in the kennel. She became spooked and cried when she saw them. “Poor girl, I’ll go fetch Frost.” Tzilla turned around. “He can calm her down.”

  “I thought those kissed by fire were lucky.” Zaza remarked as she stared at the frail girl.

  Mansi replied, “perhaps where you come from, but here hair doesn’t protect you.”

  “What happen to her?” Jorah wanted to help her.

  “Vile men used her and abused her. Then, they tossed her aside when they got bored.” Mansi bluntly informed him. “She, now, thinks most men will hurt her.”

  “I’m not a man.” Jorah kneeled down. He took off his shirt. “Look, I am a dragon.”

  The red-haired girl stopped crying and pulled back baffled. Mansi slowly reached her hand to touch the scales on his chest. “If you have scales, the woman might have had a monkey’s tail.”

  “This isn’t odd.” He looked at Mansi.

  “Most of the world is odd to someone.” Mansi shrugged her shoulders. He liked that she didn’t find him monstrous.

  He thought about her as he drifted off to sleep in the garden that night. He slept there with Zaza and Chanit. Most of sellswords left to speak with the magisters. Only Marra, Frost and Tzilla remained at Illyrio’s manse.  Illyrio enjoyed Marra’s company which vexed his blonde servant girl. They chatted about his past as a bravo, and her father who was a pit fighter. They laughed so hard that they hadn’t heard five men approaching. Eziyo heard them and quickly drew his sword. Meanwhile, Chanit heard a faint echo, “I am so sorry.” She threw a dagger and killed a nearby manticore. She grabbed her spear and knocked another manticore at an assassin. His little dragon lit one manticore on fire. Jorah scooped his dragon up and ran.

  “Protect Illyrio and his household.” Eziyo slayed the last assassin in the room. “I’ll get Chanit and the children to safety.”

  “No, protect the boy.” Illyrio insisted as they rushed outside.

  They heard the loud clashing of swords. A small group of Tyroshi sellswords had joined the assassins. “Where is it safe?” Marra noticed the direction of the men were heading at. “They want him the boy dead.” They fought them off as Chanit and the children ran toward them.

  These men weren’t from the red priest. They came from the kingdoms of Tyrosh and Qarth. The dragon prince was the symbol against their slavery. “Sometimes, the unending dance is the best haven.” Eziyo told Marra before he departed from them. He gestured to Chanit to lead them out. They weaved through the city to a ship about to set sail. They escaped most of the assassins. The enemy was carefully, and they placed an assassin on each ship in the port. Chanit stared at Eziyo in horror as he stuck his sword into a young boy’s back.

  The boy’s last words were, “I’m so sorry,” as he flung a manticore at Jorah. Chanit hits it into the sea.

  Zaza lets out a deep breath. “I don’t think they were really sorry.” She is still shaking as they entered a cabin to rest.

  They didn’t speak since no one wished to discuss the attack. Zaza laid against Chanit while the woman rubbed the girl’s shoulder. Jorah broke the silent. “Why do they wish me dead?”

  He expected Chanit to answer him, but it was Eziyo. “They view you and your late mother as a threat to slavery.”

  “Why do they even have slavery?” It never made any sense to Zaza.

  “Some men and women like to take advantage of other people’s weakness. Did I ever tell you the story of my grandmother?” Jorah shook his head and leaned in closer to Chanit. “There was a desperate farmer who needed to sell his crop up north. He lived in the Riverlands. The only way to get there was through the Frey’s toll. We always hated the Freys. They cared for money more than people. The farmer couldn’t afford to pay them. Yet, he couldn’t afford not to sell his crop, or his family would starve. He made an agreement with Lord Frey. The farmer’s daughter would serve a year as a kitchen wench. The farmer was allowed passage through his bridge, while his daughter stayed behind at the castle. She expected to be led to the kitchen. The Frey guard sneered, ‘you, stupid peasant. Your father signed you away as our whore. You will warm every man’s bed in the tower.’ She ran away as the guard approached her. She ran straight into the swamp. She tipped on a tree root. The guards laughed at her. They fought over who would have her first. My grandfather heard her cries, and he slayed the guards. He feed them to the lizard lions.”

  “Did her father really give her up as a whore?” Zaza inquired.

  “No, he couldn’t read. He trusted Lord Frey to not lie to him. My grandmother couldn’t go back. The law of the lands said that she owed the Frey’s a debt. So, she stayed in the swamps, where no Frey would dare enter to pursued her. She came to love the swamps and my grandfather.” Once the children fell asleep, she spoke quietly to Eziyo. “Where will we go?”

  “The Disputed Lands,” Eziyo leaned up against the other side of the bed. “Everyone is too busy fighting there. We should be able to hide there.”

  “We? Don’t you need to return to the Sealord?”

   “I’ll make sure you are safe first. He will understand.” The ship docked at Tyrosh. Eziyo brought dyes. He instructed Chanit and Zaza to dye their hair before they left the ship. Chanit dyed her hair green. Zaza had chosen red. They purchased a boat to travel to the Disputed Lands.

  The little dragon was restless on the boat and on shore. “Why is he fussing?” Zaza examined the little creature.

  “She doesn’t wish to be here.” Jorah corrected.

  “Hopefully, we won’t be here for long.” Eziyo made sure that they were settled in before he had to return to Braavos. He promised to come back to them soon. He meant to keep his word because he had fall in love with Chanit. He departed three days after they married under a tree.

  The little dragon was still fussing a week later. Chanit tried to cradle the dragon like a baby. The green dragon grew more upset. “What does she want?”

  “To go home to Valyria,” Jorah also felt the burning desire inside to go there.

Chapter Text

   “Yes, that was his name.”

   Daenerys fixed her gaze hard on Illyrio Mopatis. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “My dragon queen, I was going to send your son back to Westeros. He didn’t want to go. With news of your death, I perceived that there was little reason for him to go. I had planned to connect Regent Stark. Before I could make any arrangements, a group of assassins and enemy sellswords came in the night.”

   “My son?” Her voice trembled.

   “He escaped to safety.” Xandarro gently touched her hand. He promptly withdrew his hand from her, when the kos glared at him. “He has two fine protectors with him. One is a second sword of Braavos, and the other Osric believed to be a northern warrior woman from Westeros.”

   Lady Reed had mentioned one of her people was missing during the attack. It was a small comfort to Daenerys. “Where did they take Jorah?”

  “I don’t know. The Braavosi mentioned, ‘the unending dance is the best haven.’” Xandarro frowns, “none of us know the meaning.”

  “At least, we have something to follow. We’ll leave with your permission.” Of course, Daenerys granted it to Widower. She was pleased and impressed by his willing spirit. Widower and his men left to search for her son that very moment.

  “Don’t worry,” Marra assured the concerned Daenerys. “Your son has the Blood of the Dragon in him. He will survive.”

  “You would know,” Daenerys commented. “Some of your people from Npo Bata have Blood of the Dragon in them too?”

  “We do indeed.” Xandarro proudly admitted, “from the dragonrider Nettles, the Rogue Prince Daemon and other Targaryen bastards. How do you know this, Queen Daenerys? We don’t speak of it outside of our home.”

  “We found a secret journal of Maester Norren,” Maester Roone informed him.

  “That man’s kind deed is still honored to this very day.” Xandarro expounded. “We continue to name our sons after him. My own son is named Norren.”

  Maester Roone rested his head on the palm of his hand. “He mentioned that you have dragons in Npo Bata.”

  “Not since 284 ac,” Osric sighed. “The old dragon Bastard had died. Sheepstealer flew away many years before.”

  Maester Roone beamed at this new information. “We would love to learn more about your history and perhaps visit your home of Npo Bata.”

  “After the fighting is over, you may come. For now, you may ask us any question that you wish.” Xandarro ate his last piece of dinner.

   The night had been pleasant and peaceful. Yet, Daenerys hardly slept. Was her son alive? Was he in pain or scared? Did he hate her for abandoning him? She washed her face in morning, and she hoped some of concerns could be washed away soon.

   Xandarro, Illyrio and ko Aggo discussed the armaments and supplies. Maester Roone insisted that Daenerys come with him to speak to a sellsword called Frost. Truthfully, he probably wanted her ko Jhogo by his side. Even with Sam Tarly, the maester was weary of the very tall grim looking man. They found Frost near the stables. “Osric says you’re related to Aegon the Fourth?”

   “This man is very distant relative.” Frost put a new shoe on the horse. “Daemon Stone had visited his father’s land. The man wasn’t impressed with much of the Seven Kingdoms especially Prince Aegon the Unworthy. It had been well known that the Unworthy stole another man’s wife. The woman bore the Unworthy four daughters who were later stolen from their mother. The daughters were brought to the motherhouse. Some of the house proven to have little motherly affection residing in there. The eldest daughter, Alysanne and Lily, were under a cruel septa. The Targaryen kin tossed their responsibility aside and no longer cared for the daughters. Daemon treated his blood better. The man rescued the girls and raised the girls as his own daughters. When Lily grew up, the woman married the son of Torrhen Snow.”

  “You don’t have much Blood of the Dragon in you then?”

  “This man doesn't favor the Unworthy.” Frost cleaned a horse’s hoof. “My family favors Sara Snow who lived through the ‘Dance of the Dragon.’”

   Near them, a red-haired girl brushed the horses’ mane. Her skin was pale, and there was a tear drop tattoo under one eye. The Volantenes commonly branded their slaves with a tattoo. Daenerys slowly crept toward her while the maester talked to Frost. “Good day, I’m Daenerys. What’s your name?” The girl stared at Daenerys and made no reply. “You’re doing a fine job with the horse.” As Daenerys came closer to her, the girl stepped away from her. “I’m not going to hurt you.” The girl seemed very frightened. Daenerys whispered, “have they harmed you? Your master said that they beat him and stole you from him.”

  “Don’t,” the red-haired girl trembled.

  “It’s alright,” Daenerys held out her hand. “I’ll take you to a safe place.”

  “Don’t.” The girl screamed, “GO BACK!” She raced over to Frost. He wrapped his arm around her. With his other free hand, he grabbed his axe.

  Sam and Jhogo prepared themselves for a fight. Jhogo pulled out his arakh. Sam held on to the hilt of his sword. Marra rode over as she heard the girl screamed. She quickly weighed the situation and smirked. “At least, Sunset finally spoke.”

  Frost fumed at Daenerys. “A man demands the silver haired woman leave now or be cut in half.”

  Daenerys didn’t mean to upset the poor girl. She agreed to depart. In a short while later, Osric and Bathi went to speak with her. Osric did most of the talking. “What did you say to the young lady?”

  “She looked terrified. I was worried that you had mistreated her. I told her that I would take her somewhere safe.”

  “I see,” Osric stroked his beard. “Sunset’s behavior would suggest this to you. The problem stems from the maesters who never pursed this subject. They observed and know various torture methods. They don’t seek to heal those hearts who are hurt from it.”

  “She was tortured?”

  “Very much. Though, they don’t seek for information from her like in the Black Cells as we commonly envision. They wished to bend her will to pleasure every man. She is severely tortured if she refused, and the work is torturous as well. When I first examined her, I must confess that I thought she was dead until I noticed her breathing. She had old scars from being flogged and several bruise. Her behavior concerned me the most. Maester Rowley wrote about a common mistake that torturers do. He warned that a prisoner can’t be tortured too much, or the prisoner will become an unresponsive shell of a man.”

   “Marra mentioned that she hadn’t talked before.”
   “She has been with us for about a few months now. Her condition has improved. She reacts to her surroundings. Her reactions are mostly terror like a tormented caged animal.” Osric took a deep breath. “My lady, you did say more to Sunset than inquired about her safety. Didn’t you?”

    Daenerys admitted, “her master accused you of beating and robbing him.”

   “That vermin!” Osric barely hid his contempt. “We should have slit his throat and tossed him in the river. He flung his bed slaves at the Dothraki to save his own skin. Then not two days after we saved him, we stumbled upon him hitting one of his slaves. We took his money and gave it all to his slaves who had earned it for him. How could you listen to such a man?”

   “We don’t judge a man by who he is,” Bathi came to Daenerys’ defense. “We judge him by seen deeds. She didn’t intent to upset the poor girl. There is no blame. We need to work together for the coming war.”

   The “Wolf of the Rose” accepted Bathi’s counsel, and Illyrio’s invitation of dinner for reconciliation. Xandarro’s group came again with the new addition of Frost and Sunset. Frost gave Daenerys a warning glare. He situated himself and Sunset on the opposite end of the table from her. Sunset seemed to be alright at first. Halfway through the meal, the poor girl began to quiver violently. Sunset climbed onto Frost’s lap. He cradled her in his arms as he would a baby.

   “He doesn’t look it.” Xandarro tilted his head towards Daenerys. He spoke in a low voice, “but Frost is very kind. He has taken care of her for months with her nightmares. He sang to her and rocked her to sleep. People don’t always follow their appearance. Marra looks like the sweetest of women. If I ask her to stab you in the back, she would do so without hesitation or a moment’s regret. Frost wouldn’t do it. She is a true sellsword.”

   Appearance were deceiving. Daenerys knew that all too well. Her brother had been charming and dashing. She remembered when he was very young before his bouts of cruelty towards her, he had never been kind. Khal Drogo had looked fierce and ferocious. Though, Drogo was more handsome than Frost. She tried not to watch him take Sunset to the corner of the room. Frost continued to gently rock the poor girl. Daenerys could hear him softly singing to her in the Common Tongue. Drogo had proven to be tender and passionate to Daenerys.

   Memories of Drogo never tormented her. Her “sun and stars” always made her feel strong. She could imagine how eager he would be for the coming battle and proud that he would be to see her fighting in it. She had to admit. Preparing for war made her feel gradually stronger. This was during the day. At night, horrible dreams torn at her. She awoke from one of them with sweat covering her body and her hand clutching her belly. As she caught her breath, she realized little Tzilla had been sitting on the bed next to her. Tzilla gently rubbed Daenerys’ arm. “We heard your scream again.” Aggo stood by her door. “Nightmares and monsters always come at night. I know a monster killed my mother. Did a monster kill your baby?” Daenerys clutched her belly tighter. “Would you like to brush my hair? I could sing to you or tell you stories. I don’t mind.”

   “I would love to hear a story.” Daenerys recalled how dear Missandei had told her stories about Naarth whenever she couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t Missandei, but Tzilla was sweet. The little girl stayed by Daenerys until she fell asleep.

   News of Grey Worm and the Ironborn’s fleet in Braavos had reached them. Illyrio thought it was a dream come true. The Unsullied were skilled slave soldiers who had proved themselves on the field of battle against the Dothraki. Since Astapor had been conquered by Daenerys, there were no more Unsullied being sold to kingdoms like Qohor. The Free Cities’ Unsullied had gotten old and had perished. Many people in the Free Cities believed Khal Pono would have never attacked if they were still Unsullied being sold. Illyrio jumped at the chance to have the Unsullied aid them. “My queen, will you summon Grey Worm’s men here right away?”

   “I’ll consider it.” Daenerys didn’t want to say, “no.” They could use the help. Few men would die, and the victory would be more assured. If she agreed to it, all of Westeros would learn that she was alive and demand her return as their queen. Her honor wouldn’t let her step down from the throne. It went against her nature to give up. She didn’t want to be queen of the Seven Kingdom. Politics would slowly kill her spirit. She was a warrior, and not so dull lord to preside over a kingdom.

   She continued to ponder the matter, while she waited for little Tzilla to come and tell her a story. It wasn’t Tzilla that jumped onto her bed. Sunset kneeled down next to her. She pointed a dagger at Daenerys. “You’ll tell the Unsullied to come and fight.” The girl’s hands may have been shaking. Her expression was decisively determined.

   “Why?”

    “I can’t make him leave the fight. They say a dragon is powerful, but a lone dragon can be killed. The Unsullied will give him a better chance at survival.” Sunset never said his name. Daenerys knew the man who she was referring to. Sunset moved closer to her. “Swear on blood and fire that you will order the Unsullied here to fight the Dothraki.” She got distracted as Jhogo and Tzilla entered the room. Daenerys swiftly kicked her off the bed. Sunset fell to the floor, and the dagger knocked out of her hand.

   Jhogo easily apprehended Sunset. “What do you wish done with her?”

  “Flog me or kill me.” The red-haired woman screeched. “I don’t care. Just swear that you’ll do it!”

  “Don’t harm her.” Daenerys understood her desperation once while Drogo was dying. “Give her back to the ‘Wolf of the Rose.’ Then, tell Illyrio that I’m flying for Braavos in the morning.”

  The citizens of Braavos were in awe and terror at the sight of Drogon flying over them. Grey Worm was so pleased to see her. He almost looked like he would rush over and hug her. He immediately agreed to her request and readied his ship of four thousand Unsullied. Daenerys scratched her head. “Were there only about two thousand Unsullied left?”

   “You’re right, my queen. These are new recruits.”

   “You didn’t…”

   “No, my queen.” He shook his head. “We didn’t continue the cruel practices of our old masters. We trained them to fight that is all. More men succeed in training than ever before because they’re all free men.”

  “And women,” Daenerys spotted some in the ranks.

  “We’ve seen many strong women warriors at the battle of Winterfell. It didn't make sense to refuse more soldiers.”

   Daenerys flew back to Pentos the following morning. Grey Worm and his men would sail there to meet, while the rest of the fleet patrolled the Summer Sea. Illyrio’s manse seemed eerily quiet to Daenerys as she walked inside. Illyrio rose from his seat to greet her. He had been talking to Marra and Bathi. Suddenly, a horn blew a warning of an attack nearby. There were enemy sellswords in the horizon. Marra and Bathi left their squires behind with Illyrio. Aggo asked Daenrys for leave to join them. She granted it to him.

   A few moments later, she wished that she hadn’t done so. The large group of sellswords were a distraction for a smaller group of sellswords to sneak inside the manse.

  “The old prince!” Illyrio exclaimed at the leader of the five men. “You abandoned your people to become the leader of the filthy Windblown.”

  “I rather be the prince of sellswords than your puppet prince.” The Tattered Prince held out his sword. “Once I kill this dragon queen, Khal Pono will make me King of Pentos.” He and his men charged towards them. Little Tzilla and Mansi pulled out their weapons. Jhogo yanked out his silver whip. He took on three enemies. Each girl fought one enemy on their own. Daenerys worried about little Tzilla. She couldn’t worry for lone. The Tattered Prince came at her. Ever since Jorah Mormont’s death, she had become more diligent in practicing her sword fighting. Still, she was no match for a seasoned warrior. Four more enemies appeared.

  “It’s a waste to kill you now.” It amused the prince to toy with her. “Perhaps, my men and I should have you first. It’s not everyday that a man can lie with a dragon.”

  Daenerys refused to surrender the hopeless fight. Unbeknown to the queen or prince, each time that his sword pressed against her blade. His sword would melt. The prince arrogantly knocked her down to the ground. He pinned her down and pressed down his sword against hers. Suddenly, his sword broke in two. She sliced him from his shoulder across his chest in one swipe. The prince fell to the side dead. As she got up, most of their enemies had been vanquished.

   Jhogo killed the majority of them. Little Tzilla rushed over to tend to his wound. She cleaned his gash. “I’m sorry. I should have fought better.”

   “You held your own.” Jhogo rubbed Tzilla’s head, “you did well, little yearling.” He regarded Mansi who stood guard over them. “Your dark skin sister did very good. She will grow up into a fine warrior that any Khal would want as their bloodrider.” Mansi had killed three of the sellswords. “Are you alright, Khaleesi?”

   “I’m fine.” Daenerys stared at her sword.

   Her nightmares ceased after that fight. She felt strong again. She dreamed of her old conquest of Slaver’s Bay. The dream was different from her memories. It changed from Viserion and Rhaegal flying beside Drogon to two new dragons. One dragon was green with hints of black. The other was gray and silver with a dark back. Why this slight change? What did it mean? She didn’t know.

   The Battle of Pentos was over in a day. The magisters of Pentos requested to have a few Dothraki prisoners tortured for information. Xandarro bluntly told them and the son of the Sealord of Braavos. “I don’t torture captives. In any regard, it wouldn’t be helpful. Their information would be limited even with a ko. Their terrain is too vast. We have to scout it out ourselves.”

   Grey Worm examined the map. “We need a three-point attack at Norvos. It is safe to expect the majority of Pono’s men to be at. Can you send ships up the river?”

  “Not many,” the son of the Sealord sighed. “Our fleet was made for sea battles. Rivers are a little different. We have already sent those ships that can to river.”

  “We might be able to receive some help from Norvos. Their bearded priests have a fortress. It could still be standing.” Xandarro stated. “If we do help free Norvos, they’ll just go back to enslaving people themselves. I propose that we tell them, ‘in exchange for our aid, they must abolish slavery.”

  “If their leaders disagree,” a magister asserted. “We leave those poor people in a dire situation. Is it even our right to demand such a thing?”

  “Actually, it is,” Daenerys interjected. “Kingdoms like sellswords expect something in return for their aid. You can demand them to stop slavery gradually or immediately. Though none of this discussion might matter, how can we even reach these bearded priests?”

  “Frost can get to them.” Xandarro spoke confidently. “He knows the mountains. As for the Dothraki’s position,” he turned to Daenerys. “We need your help.”

  “No,” Aggo tightened his bow. “We stay with our Khaleesi.”

  “We need you to scout on the Pono’s men.” Daenerys informed her kos.

   Marra was a short distance away from them. She kneeled near a captive Dothraki. She cut off the Dothraki warrior’s long braid. She took the braid and started slapping him in his face with it. Xandarro called her over, “would you please stop doing that, and come over here instead? I need you to interpret for me.” She pouted as she walked to him.

   Aggo was concerned. “Who will protect you if we leave?”

  “Bathi, Sam of Tarly, Grey Worm and Mansi,” Marra answered. “All of them have sworn on their lives to protect her. We’ll be gone for only three weeks at the most.”

  Aggo and Jhogo begrudgingly agreed to the task. Sam and Grey Worm guarded her during the day. Bathi and little Mansi guarded her at night. Daenerys liked this arrangement, since she found neither Bathi nor Mansi lively conversation.

  Until one night, Mansi suddenly spoke to her. “I thought they were tattoos.”

  “What?”

  “Your son’s scales are very faint on the back of his neck. I had thought that they were tattoos. He told me about how the scales used to cover his entire body.”

  “Use to?” Daenerys lifted her head from her pillow. “What does Jorah look like now?”

  “He has black hair that goes pass his ears. His eyes are such a dark brown. They seemed almost black sometimes. He wears long clothes because he is still uncomfortable about his scales. I don’t see the reason for doing it. Not many people would notice them. All the scales on his shoulders and neck are very faint. The ones on back aren’t as faint. He doesn’t like anyone to see them. They’re pretty though. They make his skin shimmer. He didn’t want to go to King’s Landing because you and his father weren’t there. In addition, the people there had wanted him dead as a baby. They aren’t his people anymore.”

  “No, they aren’t,” Daenerys realized they weren’t her people either. “Is Jorah alright? Is he happy?”

  “He is content to no longer be tossed around like a leaf in the wind by the fire priest. He liked our horse, and he enjoyed riding it.” Mansi struggled with what to tell Daenerys. She decided to tell her the truth. “His dreams bother him.”

  “What does he dream about?”

  “He wouldn’t say.” Mansi’s eyes were apologetic. “He didn’t mention where he would go. I don’t think he would return to swamp. The fire men are still after him. I know he is safe. The man and woman with him are loyal good protectors.”

  “It’s not same. I should be with him.” Daenerys felt guilty. She knew her pregnancy had made her very weak. As a mother, she should have found the strength to protect him and keep him close.

   Frost arrived from his task first. He gave them news from the bearded priests. “Their fortress stands though its’ under heavy assault. They agreed to our request.”

  “Just like that,” Illyrio was flabbergasted. “No more slavery.”

  “The bearded priest consulted the tenants of their beliefs.” Frost shrugged his shoulders. “The men found nothing supporting it. The men look forward to fighting with us. Has the other scouts returned yet?”

  “Not yet,” Daenerys tried not to worry. She felt relieved when her kos came back a few days later. They gave their reports.

  Everyone gathered as Grey Worm formed their battle plans. He had the most experience working a large army. “The enemies’ forces are stationed in the flat lands. There are only a few in the mountains. The Unsullied and Drogon will attack the main group. We will position ourselves, so we can separate them from the river. They’ll be forced to pull back to Qohor. Xandarro and his men will ambush their supplies and captives during our battle. The mountain terrain is our advantage. We will keep it for Qohor in case we have to retreat. We need to have a foothold on the rivers. Braavos must gain control of the river.”

  “Volantis has agreed to offer our ships some support. They’re only doing it out of fear.” The son of the Sealord pondered, “if the enemy loses Norvos and Qohor, will they head to Selhorys or Volantis.”

   “Unlikely,” Xandarro reasoned. “As long as we defeat their pirate allies. The river is too close the sea. Dothraki are fearful of the water. Both places would have ships to aid them. In addition, when a man is overwhelmed, he usually flees to known and comfortable surroundings. Khal Pono would likely head to the Dothraki sea.”

   “Our khalasar will be waiting for them,” Aggo clasped his bow.

   The Battle of Norvos had been a little harder than Pentos. Thankfully, Grey Worm’s plan worked flawlessly. The difficulty in the fight came from unexpected source. They discussed it over the victory.

   “Those war carts are one of the most fearsome weapons that I have ever seen.” Xandarro sat down by the fire. He rubbed his sore arm. “It had long swords on the wheels. People weren’t just killed. They were shredded to pieces by those carts. If the Dothraki had a few more of those war carts, they would have conquered those kingdoms quicker.”

   “Only old and weak ride carts,” Marra poured herself a drink. “It goes against Dothraki’s honor to give such things attention or praise.”

   “Right now, I’m concerned about the pirate Urho eluding us, and our ships haven’t arrived yet.” Xandarro gestured for Sunset to come sit with them. The red-haired girl had been brushing the same horse for the last hour. She was waiting for their mountain group to return.

  “Come girl brush my mane.” Marra teased, “though I think she rather comb Frost’s hair. Do you wish him to be your sweet dog?”

  Sunset tucked her head down as she sat next to Xandarro. He gave Marra a warning glance to stop.

  “Let’s not focus on the war for a moment. Instead, we should be joyful and consider our reward at the end.” Cregan suggested. “I am looking forward to returning to my homeland in Westeros. My ancestors would be thrilled to have our Queen in the North back. Frost, Harlon and I are planning to use our money to settle in the North. Who else has plans after the battle is over?”

  “I’ll be content to see my husband and children again.” Bathi confessed. “I’ve been away from them for too long.”

   “Well, I’m going to raid Illyrio manse and get one of his best wines from the cellar. Then, I might sail over to Dorne and get me a fine Dornish stallion that I’ve heard so much about.” Marra nudged Tzilla playfully. “I might get you a Dornish colt while I’m there.”

  Tzilla fancied the idea. “Can mine please have a red mane?”

  “The Tyrosh ones have red hair.”

  Bathi shook her head at Marra. “You’re a great fighter, but a terrible influence.”

  “We can’t all be refined ladies like yourself.” Marra grabbed a roasted goat’s leg.

  Sam turned his head towards Bathi. “Are you a noblewoman?”

  “I’m not.” Bathi pointed to Marra. “Actually, she is the closest to nobility.”

   Marra split out a bone from her mouth. “My father was a pit fighter in Meereen. My mother had been a bed slave. My father refused to give me to slavers. He kept me and trained me to fight in the arena. After he died in the pit, I stole a horse and rode away from the city. I came across a group of Dothraki. They would have probably killed me if not for Khal Zekko. He was impressed by my skill with an arakh and my riding. He took me in and treated me like a cherished daughter. His bloodriders became my uncles. I would have gladly killed or died for them. When Pono’s father came to us, he poisoned my khal. Dothraki don’t poison men’s drinks. Foreigners behave that way. No one believed that it wasn’t me. I had to kill every bloodrider. I spent months tracking his father down. I torn out his heart and feed it to him. All that is left is his son Pono.” Tzilla gave her a hug. Marra rubbed the girl’s arm. “My sweet yearling go get some rest. One of these days, I need to toughen you up with some rum.”

   Bathi narrowed her eyes at Marra. The two women started quarreling with each other. Daenerys strangely enjoyed their bickering. They behaved as true sisters and acted like aunts to their young squires. Daenerys longed for a family. She also feared having one. Since her mother’s death to Missandei’s death, she knew that they could be stolen from her forever. She shifted her attention to the war.

   They finally defeated Urho and his pirates, and they gained control of the rivers. It costed the lives of Cregan and Marra. Khal Pono retreated to the Gate of the Goat in Qohor. The place reminded Daenerys of King’s Landing except it was more fortified and seemed smaller. The Gate of the Goat should have been called the Gates of the Goat. It had been divided into their three-layer parts which had thick walls for each part. The outer wall was equipped with giant scorpions, so Drogon couldn’t burn a hole through it. Scorpions weapons were usefully against dragons, but pretty worthless against an army and their siege weapons. It would take time. Daenerys’ forces would break through the wall.

   Daenerys awaited the outer wall destruction alongside Grey Worm. The Braavosi took the lead in the wall’s assault. Sunset brushed a dog near them. Grey Worm sharpened his blade. Daenerys combed Tzilla’s hair to relax. There was one matter that Daenerys could no longer postpone. “You never asked me why I left Westeros and my throne? Are you upset with me or ashamed of –“

   “Never, my queen,” Grey Worm answered firmly. “I knew the reason.” She looked at him in surprise. “I felt like a dull blade at Westeros. I don’t visit there often too much sorrow. I feel better when I’m protecting the Summer Isles and Naarth.”

   “Is that all we are weapons in an unending dance?” Daenerys wondered out loud.

   “An unending dance,” Sunset echoed in recognition.

   Daenerys twisted her head. “Have you heard that expression before?”

  “A group of men,” Sunset held onto the dog tightly. “They paid for us to entertain them. One of them had said, ‘The Disputed Lands are an ending dance of gold.’”

  “Thank you!” Daenerys went to hug her until she saw Sunset cringe and pulled back. “Thank you very much. Now I know where my son is at.” She thought about sending word to Widower about Jorah. Then, she feared her message would get intercepted. It’s safer if she went there herself to look for him. She couldn’t wait for this siege to be over.

   Their army punctured three holes in the outer wall in different spots. One of the holes became larger with the Drogon’s unexpected help. He had flown through the hole to scoop up a fat bull. As he departed with his prey, he crashed into the side and crack the wall open wider. The enemies’ flock escaped through the hole. Most of the enemies retreated behind the middle wall. A few enemies chose to reclaim their escaped horses.

   They were easily overwhelmed by the superior numbers. Daenerys’ army captured them and their horses. One fearless young Dothraki enemy charged at Daenerys and her dragon. Jhogo knocked him off his horse. He was about to kill the boy when Daenerys stopped him. She walked towards the newly captured boy who was barely sixteen. “Did you truly believe that you could slay a dragon?”

  “Someone had to,” the boy held his ground.

   In that moment, he reminded her of Sir Barristan the Bold. Her faithful old knight received his title as a boy for bravely facing a dragon prince in a tournament. “What’s your name?”

  “Horro, lizard queen.”

   Though he snarled at her, Daenerys ordered him to be placed closest to her with the captives. Most of their prisoners had been pirate. Dothraki preferred death than captivity. Horro remained defiant even chained. Aggo was impressed by the boy’s skill and his fighting spirit. The ko still advised her to kill the boy. Horro was impressed by something else. No one realized what it was at first. He kept throwing insults at Daenerys while Tzilla brushed Daenerys’ hair. Aggo slapped Horro hard a few times. Yet, the boy didn’t relent. He continued to mock Daenerys. Aggo was ready to beat him.

  Jhogo got in the boy’s line of sight and realized what was vexing Horro. “Wait, don’t you see? He wants to steal our Khaleesi’ little brown horse. Like he could,” he scoffed.

  “She is no Khaleesi. She’s scaly goat. She doesn’t deserve her.” Horro received a slap from Aggo.

  “You deserve to claim the little mare for yourself?” Aggo taunted Horro. “Are you a ko’s son?” The boy tucked his head down. “Your hair is short and will never grow victorious. Carts are all that you receive.”

  “We are not keeping all the horse.” Tzilla put down the brush. She felt that they were being mean to Horro. “The Khaleesi seemed to favor only the white stallion. She will probably give back the others to your people.”

  “Yes boy,” Jhogo chuckled. “Beg our Khaleesi for the pretty little brown horse with the black mane.”

   “Enough!” Daenerys understood that they weren’t talking about the nearby herd of horse. Sweet naïve Tzilla didn’t know that she was the little brown horse. Daenerys watched as Horro’s eyes lingered on Tzilla especially when she wasn’t looking. His expression softens and became almost embarrassed as she gave him water to drink. It was an amusing distraction for Daenerys as they worked on taking down the next wall.

   After the middle wall broke, the enemies leashed out like a swarm of bugs. There wasn’t much Daenerys and Drogon could do as they flew overhead. Their enemies weaved among her soldiers. She set fire to the enemies’ flank. The Unsullied held back the waves of enemy forces. No attention was given to the women and children who fled from the Gate of the Goat. Tzilla and Mansi took upon themselves to make sure that they safely got through the battle lines. A small band of Dothraki chased after the women and children. Mansi went and stopped the warriors from killing them. She couldn’t determined their reason for attacking their own people. She was going ask Tzilla about it as they arrived back to their camp.

    Horro’s escape prevented her. A newly escape Dothraki snuck into their camp and freed him. Horro stole a horse and rode off into the city. Tzilla chased after him. The city was barren, while the fighting took place outside. Horro halted near the inner wall. He quickly tied up the horse and rushed into a tavern. Tzilla ran behind him. Yet, he didn’t seem to notice especially as he journeyed into a secret tunnel. There were two corpses inside the tunnel. Horro fell to his knees at the sight of them. She was hesitative to strike him down with her arakh.

   He leaned over a dead Dothraki who had been stabbed in the back. “He lied. He killed his own kos. He abandoned his khalasar to save himself. He ran away like a coward!”

   “Who?” Tzilla studied her surroundings. “Where does the tunnel lead to?”

   “Khal Pono used this tunnel to escape the city while his warriors died. He took all the wealth with him. I’m going to cut his hair and then his head.” Horro vowed. He lifted up his arms. “I am your captive now.”

   Daenerys began by flying carefully near the inner wall of the Gate of the Goat. Nothing shot at her nor did she see anything. She flew over the wall. The place was empty. She ordered some Unsullied to traveled through the newly discovered tunnel to thoroughly inspect it. They searched noble’s house and the Black Palace. Khal Pono and his men were no where to be found. The royal treasure of Qohor was missing as well.

   Qohor, Pentos and Braavos celebrated their victory. All the Dothraki including most of the remaining enemy khalasar wanted revenge against Khal Pono. “You wish to hunt down Pono?” Daenerys could see it written all over Aggo’s face.

  “Pono is coward. He should have accepted honorable death.” Aggo didn’t disagree. “He deserves to be torn apart by horses. I will not abandon you, my Khaleesi.”

   Daenerys held his hands. “You have my permission and blessing. Do you have enough men?”

   “We should. Even some of Pono’s riders wish him and have agree to join us. I promise that we will deliver his head to you.” Aggo lead his khalasar which now included Horro and Tzilla to Dothraki Sea.

   The rest of the soldiers traveled to Pentos. Many of the Pentoshi indentured servant expressed a desire to join the Unsullied. The magisters rebutted them, “You must remain in the fields. You aren’t allowed to leave.”

   The son of the Sealord got wind of this. “They are free men. Aren’t they? Or, do we need to have a more thorough look at your governing?” They quickly folded under his threat and allowed their servants to join.

   Grey Worm and his Unsullied sailed to meet with his Ironborn fleet. Daenerys traveled to the Disputed Lands. Once they saw the land on the horizon, Xandarro discussed a plan to fan out and search for her son. Drogon interfered with that. He tapped his giant claw and bobbed his head towards Daenerys. She understood what he wanted. She climbed onto him, and they flew off. A short distance away, they heard a familiar roar. There in front of them was a mostly green dragon with black highlights flying in the sky. It was the size of about four horses. Both dragons landed on to the ground. A boy leaped off the unknown dragon. He had Jon Snow’s hair and eyes. A woman carrying a baby approached him as Daenerys climbed off Drogon.

  “I told you that she was beautiful.” The woman rubbed his shoulder. “Please go see her.”

  “Jorah?”

  The boy nodded his head. “Queen Daenerys, I …”

  Daenerys grabbed the sides of his face. “My,” tears dripped down her face.

  Jorah hugged her. “Please don’t cry.”

  “My son, I’ve missed you so much.”

Chapter Text

    Queen Sansa Stark watched over her court during the winter festival. Her consort, Albar Royce, talked with many of her lords such as the new Lord of House Golden. Sansa proudly sat beside her three sons, Robb, Rickon, and Theon. In her arms, she held her infant son Sandor. In the crowd, she spotted a tall man with a red-haired lady accompanying him. She signaled Maester Wolkan to sit by her. She leaned towards him. “Who is he?”

   “A sellsword from Essos, your grace,” the maester whispered to her. “Supposedly, he descends from an old northern house that left when Torrhen Stark kneeled to Aegon Targaryen.”

   “Why does the lady with him have a marking under her eye?”

   “She was a whore slave in Volantis.”

   Sansa felt sympathy towards her, but she remembered she was a queen now. Queens had to be carefully. “What are they doing here?”

   “Sir Frost has recently brought land along with other men in his former sellsword company. They wished to give you gifts and swear oaths to you. Do you wish me to arrange this?”

   “Yes,” Her eyes roamed around the room. While she was alerted, her young sons were all terribly bored.

   Their eyes lit up as their favorite aunt and cousins arrived. Lady Arya Baratheon, the Night Wolf, had two sons Yoren and Syrio. Her two boys rush to meet with Sansa’s son. All the boys then ran outside to play in the snow. Arya’s eldest child, Shireen, remained by her father. Queen Sansa rose and went to hug her sister. It was an awkward embrace as little Sandor fussed in her arms. “Another son,” Arya remarked.

   “When I was younger, I had once worried that I would have all daughters.” Sansa smiled fondly at her infant son. “I love all my sons dearly. Though, I wish I had a daughter.”

   “You can always borrow my daughter,” Arya sighed at her prim and proper daughter.

   “I thought Shireen was studying swordplay.”

   “And needlepoint.”

   “My poor sister,” Sansa teased. “You’re stuck with a proper lady for a daughter. Imagine what Septa Mordane would have said.”

   Both women laughed with hint of sadness. Arya glanced around the room. “Has Jon arrived yet?”

   “I don’t think so.”

   “You would know.” Arya chuckled, “especially if Tormund is with them.”

   Sure enough, there was the sounds of wolves howling. Arya ran outside to embrace Jon Snow and his daughter, Missandei Targaryen. Most of the people in the castle were too afraid to greet them outside. It wasn’t because of Jon’s two direwolves. Missandei had a large ice dragon which followed her everywhere. She rode it to Winterfell. She had offered Tormund a ride on it, but he refused. All of them entered the castle.

   “We are grateful that your people continue to support the Night’s Watch.” Queen Sansa approached Tormund. The Seven Kingdoms needed the Night’s Watch to send their criminals at. It had been such a long tradition to just give up now especially with nothing to replace it.

   “We, gingers, must stick together.” Tormund nudged her slightly. “Besides, we enjoy ordering those crows around. They are rebuilding the Eastwatch by the Sea for us. Anyway, this is a feast. I must have dozen horns full of drink.” He abruptly walked to a serving wench.

   Frost, the former sellsword, came towards Sansa. “Men have gifts for our Queen in the North.” They handed her brown and green velvet fabrics. Under his cloak, Frost revealed the last gift. “A pup is good for a boy.” He presented it to her son Sandor.

   Sandor’s eyes lit up at the sight of the little dog. “We thank you for your gifts, but we ask only for your loyalty.” Queen Sansa responded. All the men swore the oath.

   While Sansa went to greet Jon, Arya talked to Frost. “You reminded me of a man that I once knew, Jaqen H’ghar.”

   “That can’t be possible,” Frost’s voice wavered. “Jaqen H’ghar was dead probably before the woman was born. Before you were born,” he corrected. “Jaqen had been one of three men who were considered the vilest in all Lorath. The man killed the Fisher Prince and blamed another for the crime. Tall Men and their women were butchered by the man. Ibbenese fishermen had been fed to krakens for the man’s amusement. It is said that Jaqen had been killed in Braavos. Are … you saying that this is not true? The man’s body was given to us. All except for his head.”

   “No, it is true. It must have been someone else with a similar name.” Or, someone else with his face, Arya reasoned.

   As the feast began to wane, an unexpected guest arrived. Regent Brandon Stark and two kingsguards entered the great hall. One of them was Brienne of Tarth. She had been a welcome sight for Sansa. Not everyone was pleased to Brad Stark. Meera Reed hadn’t been happy with him since he suddenly and callously dismissed her. To her surprise, he held her hand. “My queen of love and beauty,” Brandon smiled softly at her. Her expression is doubtful. “I am a selfish man.”

  “You had the Night King and the three eyed raven to consider more than me.”

  “I saw you die in my vision of the battle against the Night King. I couldn’t bear to see it happen with my own eyes.” He held her hand to his face. Meera Reed spent the night at Winterfell.

  The guests left the next day. Only Sansa’s family remained in the castle. They ate breakfast together. Shireen left her seat by Gendry to show Sansa her embroidery that she sowed the night before. Sansa adored all her nephews and nieces except for Missandei. She wanted to like the girl, but Missandei looked too foreign and too Targaryen.

   Missandei Targaryen had been called many names in her life. Tormund enjoyed calling her the “Snow Cub.” Most of the Free Folks called her that. Some people hissed at her and scornfully referred to her as the “Night Princess.” They felt she is an unnatural monstrous girl. Sadly, there is some truth in their words. Since she was born, she could bear the cold beyond normal. Mean boys knocked her in a frozen lake once. She never shivered nor did her skin even pimple. She had her mother’s silver gold hair and her violet eyes. Despite having the blood of the dragon, she didn’t have its’ fire. Like her dragon, she was “Blood and Ice.”

   She enjoyed her winter visits to see her aunt and cousins. They weren’t truly her cousins and aunt. Yet, her aunt Arya always treated her as a beloved niece. She got along well with her warrior aunt since they were both fighters. She liked to spar with her cousins Shireen and Robb. Her uncle Gendry made beautiful armor for her. She brought her cousin Yoren a rabbit fur. The only part that she didn’t like was her other relatives. Queen Sansa wouldn’t let her refer to as her aunt. Her husband followed her lead. She wasn’t cruel to Missandei. Mostly, she kept her distance from the young girl.

   It didn’t bother her except for family meals like after harvest feast. They woke up and ate together. Missandei sat between her father and her cousin Shireen. Her cousin had just finished showing Queen Sansa her needlepoint. When Sansa inquired of Jon, “How is Eddard and Ygitte?” Eddard and Ygitte were her half brother and sister.

   “Elia wrote that Ned is an amazing horseman. Ygitte seems to favor the Morningstar.”

   Sansa slanted her head. “Your former wife still writes to you. I thought she married someone else.”

   “She did indeed. She is very happily married as am I.” Her father had told her once that Elia Sand wasn’t in love with him. They were friendly towards each other. The marriage worked as long as they remained in King’s Landing. Both came to dislike the city and its’ politics. Elia often visited her home in Dorne. “Does Tyrion still write you?”

   “He wrote me last month. His and Tysha’s vineyard had a fine harvest. Their son Jaime is growing taller each day. You should go down south and visit them.” Sansa made the suggestion even though she already knew his answer.

   “The south doesn’t agree with us.” It wasn’t us. They traveled south to the stormlands when Missandei was little. They wanted to see Arya’s newborn daughter. Jon presented Arya with Nymeria’s grand pup. She named the half direwolf half dog Visenya. Missandei remembered walking over to touch Arya’s new Valyrian steel sword Lightning and suddenly collapsed to the floor. Her father rushed her back North, and Missandei got better.

   Tormund attempted to rub Jon’s head. “We’ve almost made a Free Folk out of him.”

   “Missandei, may I speak with you alone?” Brandon had finished his meal.

   “Of course, uncle.” Missandei rose and walked alongside his wheelchair.

   Brandon took her outside to the godswood. “Do you know why you can withstand the cold weather?”

  “I was born different.” Her grab highlighted this fact. While everyone else was bundled up in layers of clothes, Missandei wore a simple pants and a shirt that exposed her arms. “My mother can handle heat and fire.”

  “No, you were born sickly.”

   She had been told that. “I am better now.”

   “You aren’t,” his face became grave. “The cold is simply slowing down the sickness. Soon, it will kill you.”

   “You saw it.” Brandon shook his head. “Is there anything that you can’t see?”

   “The Land of Always Winter.” He held her hand. “I’m sorry.”

   Missandei didn’t know how to respond. She tried to ignore it first. She went to do her normal routine. Each morning, she practiced her fencing. Her aunt Arya gave her and Shireen lessons in Water Dancing. Shireen had been given her mother’s old sword Needle. Her uncle Gendry would watch his wife and the children practiced. Her father would also give instruction. Tormund rarely did joined in. He mostly contented with cheering them on. Brienne observed the children sparring. She was impressed by Missandei. “You’re on your way to becoming one of the best swordsmen.”

   “Are you still glad to be a kingsguard?” Missandei noticed Brandon near Sansa on the second floor of the castle.

   “Always, I’m happy to spend my life in the service of a good king.”

   She considered Brienne’s words as they have the afternoon meal in great hall. Most of the family departed after the meal. Little Sandor and his new pup remained on the rug near the fireplace. Jon smiled at them taking a nap together. Jon approached Missandei who was focused on the Stark family Valyrian steel sword Ice. It wasn’t the ancient sword of House Stark. That sword had been split in half. Brienne carried one half named Oathkeeper. The other half had been Widow’s Wail. It was reforge into She Bear and was given to House Mormont. This sword Ice had been forged by Gendry with the aid of a Qohorik refugee. Jon placed his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”

   “I wish to be fostered at the Queensgate.” Missandei had already spent a year at Long Barrow’s castle under the tutorage of Iron Emmett.

   Jon thought that she already declined Morna White Mask’s offer. “Are you sure?”

   “Yes, father, I am.”

   Her father respected her decision. He went to Shadow Tower, while she journeyed to the Queensgate. Shadow Tower and Queensgate were all castles of the Night’s Watch. Now, with the death of the Night King, they were placed under the command of both the North and the Free Folk. In all honesty, the Free Folk held most of the control of the castles. They came to like the idea of a place to go during the bitter winters and a place to meet for trade.

   She brought her direwolf Quicksilver and her ice dragon with her. Morna and her son were strange good company. She told Missandei old myths and legends. The castle was decrepit. Yet, it had warm inviting feel to it. Morna mentioned once that she would have taken her father if Val hadn’t. She treated Missandei with kindness.

    Not everyone fancied her. Some old ones murmured under their breath, “The Night Princess will doom us all.” They weren’t the one who acted upon their regard for her. Missandei had been scouting the haunted forest. She saw again a Free Folk named Rune of Rivers. He had black haired and a pet hawk. He kept to himself as he killed and skinned a rabbit. She walked past him and came across a cave. She was about to search through it when she was ambushed by four men.

   “They said your skin is made of snow and ice.” One of the men had a wolfish glare in his eye. “I bet we can thaw you out.” Two of the boys yanked out their daggers. Their weapons gave them an advantage in close combat over her sword.

    She hastily rolled away from them. She was able to slice into two of them before she got knocked down. Quicksilver finished them off. The unharmed men went to pin her down. They grabbed her arms, thus forgetting about well placed kick. She crawled away and franticly looked for a weapon. Her sword was flung into a steam. A man shoved her down. Her fingers discovered something heavy in the snow. He had the greater weight, but she had the flexibility. She twisted in her hand what felt like blade and rammed into his gut. “You’re not hot enough.” She quickly rose up and looked for the remaining man.

   Quicksilver had killed him. Rune walked around the direwolf towards her. “I heard screaming. Are you alright?”

   She got distracted as she stared at the weapon that she retrieved from the snow. “It can’t be…”

   “You have a few cuts and bruises.” Rune came closer. He stopped when Quicksilver growled. “What is it?”

   “That cave,” Missandei pointed. “Did the three eyed raven live there?” She quickly realized that he wouldn’t know that.

   Yet, he did, “Yes, my mother thinks the Others killed him.”

   “I need to head back to the castle now.”

   A raven was sent her father in Shadow Tower. He rode all day to Queensgate. Morna met outside and directed him to Missandei, who was in the small library. Jon rested his heavy coat on a chair. “You said it was urgent. Morna told me that you were attacked in the forest. Did they hurt you?”

   “Do you know what this is, father?” Missandei held out the strange sword in her hand.

   Jon inspected the blade. “It’s Valyrian steel.” He has been carrying his own Valyrian steel sword Longclaw for many years.

   “It’s Dark Sister.”

   “That can’t be.” The hilt was mostly black with golden flames and a large red ruby. He had to admit the sword did have the Targaryen style.

   “Aunt Arya has told me stories about this blade and those who wielded it. The last man to have it was Brynden Rivers. Uncle Brandon mentioned that Brynden was the three eyed raven. This is Dark Sister.”

   The worry increased in his voice. “What do you plan to do with it?”

   “Kill the Corpse Queen.”

   “That’s a Free Folk’s tale. Brandon said the Children of the Forest created the Night King by mistake and not some Corpse Queen.”

    “She didn’t create the first Night King. Bear with me,” She put the sword down. “A thousand years ago, the Children of Forest and the First Men defeat the Night King and his army. However, they still constructed a massive wall for protection. Why? If they defeat the Night King, how is it that you had to fight him again? Think about it. For more than two hundred years, there were no more dragons. For a thousand years, there was no Night King. Then, mother came and hatched three dragons.”

   “And the Corpse Queen gave birth to the new Night King,” it did make sense to Jon which frightened him. “Even if this is true, there is no way that I want you near in that battle.”

   “Father,” she gripped his hand. “I’m dying. Uncle Brandon told me. Please, let me die a warrior.”

  “How long?” His heart pounded hard in his chest.

  “He wouldn’t say. I probably only have a year maybe two at the most.”

   “We should ask Brandon first before we do anything.”

   “He wouldn’t know.” Jon’s eyebrows shot up. “He can’t see the Land of Always Winter. She has to be there.” She touched his face. “I know it’s dangerous. Father, you said how it was difficult for anyone to believe you about the Night King. Imagine in another couple of hundred years. The old stories will probably fade completely away. There will be no defense. We need to do it now. Perhaps, while she is still building her forces, we might have a chance to defeat her.”

   He begrudgingly agreed. He had an announcement proclaimed for volunteers. Not many joined Jon and his daughter. Jokull and Igraine from the Frozen Shore came. A Hornfoot named Gorne, Rune of Rivers and Dessa from Whitetree joined. Lastly, Sylas of Thenn came long as they passed along the Frostfangs. Naturally, they brought along their direwolves Ghost and Quicksilver. Their direwolves didn’t scare Jokull or Igraine. Jokull had a team of large dogs that pulled him around. Igraine rode on a snow bear who didn’t like Quicksilver. They were all a bit intimidated by her ice dragon. So, Missandei kept the dragon at a distant.

   Considering the place that they were going, Igraine agreed that they needed it. Gorne fancied her light attire since he had bare feet. His feet were black and hard, while her exposed skin was still soft and pale. Except for Sylas, all who came heard tales about the dangers of the Land of the Always Winter and believed the threat must be destroyed.

   As they entered the land, they saw herds of Mammoths and a giant in the distance. The land became more deserted farther north that they went. It wasn’t truly empty. It had remaining the nightmares from the old tales. The thing that came in the night had been a scary story told by Old Nan. Jon never believed them to be real until one night.

   They had made camp for the night. When Gorne saw what looked like fireflies on the horizon, he remarked, “Their humming almost sounds like birds singing.”

   Rune got up quickly, “we need to leave now! They’re coming.”

   Igraine scoffed and held up her spear. “Let them come.”

   “They aren’t men.” Rune beckoned the group to move out. “They are the thing that come at night. They creep slowly and kill you. We must go.” They wearily rose. “Don’t look at them. Some ensnare your eye, and other ensnare your ears like sirens.”

   “Stop talking in riddles,” Sylas retorted. “What are they… mother?”

   “It’s not her.” Rune attempted to grab Sylas’s arm.

   He shoved Rune aside and rushed over to her. “Mother, you escaped the Night King. I-“ The creature torn him apart. His scream hurried their feet.

   Jon glanced over by mistake to survey their route. He saw one of the things. It looked like Ygritte. Missandei noticed this and held on to her father. He could see her eyes pleading to him. He gripped her hand tightly as they kept moving. They didn’t stop until sun rise. Most of them collapsed exhausted.

    Missandei laid down to sleep. A slight odd pain inside her worried her. Maybe, she didn’t have a year left. Rune noticed her distress. “Did those things scare you?”

    “A little,” she confessed to this. She didn’t want to mention her pain in case her father overheard it. “How did you know about those things?”

   “His mother was friends with the Children of the Forest.” Dessa interrupted. “They warned her of many things such as the White Walkers coming. It still didn’t save her.”

   “It saved us.” He replied sadly. Missandei reached out her hand to rub his hand. He smiled at her.

   She pulled back her hand and glanced around. They were all exhausted and the bitter night cold bit at them. In time, they would be completely worn down. She had a plan to stop this. As the sun started setting, she sat down in the middle of their camp.

   “We need to start moving.” Rune cautioned. “We don’t know if those things have abandoned their pursuit of us.”

   “They have to be stop.” Missandei stayed put. “All of you go. I’ll stay here and face them.”

   Dessa reminded her. “You heard what those things did to Sylas. You can’t defeat them.”

   “I’m not going to,” There was a confidence in her voice. Still, only Rune and her father stayed behind with her.

   It grew dark. The sounds of eerie singing became louder. “Missandei, you should do it now.” Jon gripped his sword. Ghost and Quicksilver growled and stood defensive by them.

   “Not yet,” Rune reasoned. “We want them all.”

    The things surrounded them. Jon could see their appearance reflected off his blade. The things no longer wished to seduce them. Their forms were scary unknown monsters. They wanted Jon and his daughter to panic and run into them. Jon worried as he saw Missandei close her eyes. On the contrary, Rune put his bow away. The young man trusted her fully. Suddenly, her ice dragon flew overhead. It casted all the things in hard ice. The things weren’t moving. She wasn’t hopeful that they were actually died. Jon had been content to get some distance between them and those things. Perhaps, they can reach their destination before those things broke free.

     The path hadn’t been an easy one especially when they had to cross a large lake. Jokull and Igraine attempted to find a way around it. They returned to their camp after eight days. “Rivers surround this whole territory. Their strange waves are unhinged. I have never seen waves that high. My bear would not go near them.” Igraine related to them.

    Jokull groaned, “be glad that he didn’t do it. I lost four dogs to savage fish that leaped out and yanked my poor dogs into the icy water.” His foot tapped the frozen lake. “This is our best choice.”

    “We can fly over it with my dragon.” Missandei suggested. They might have done it except they heard the dogs and Quicksilver whimpering up in the air. The dark clouds and large gust of wind discouraged them. They feared it was colder up in the sky than in the water.

    Everyone had experience walking on frozen water. They felt unphased to cross it. This water was different. It had various shades of blue. Some spots were a light blue, while others were a purplish blue. All the ice had been usually the same thickness. The only warning that they received was a slight creaky sound as their foot stepped down. It was too late. Passed midway, Gorne and Rune fell into the water. Rune quickly crawled his way out. Jon helped him up.

   Gorne just laughed. “I’ve been in colder. It’s actually quite warm. What The?!” A school of rock fish swarmed him. He squatted them away. Jokull and Igraine lifted him out of the water.

   They rushed to the other side of the lake and rested there. Dessa examined the fish bites on Gorne’s foot. “You lost a toe.”

   “Only a small one,” Gorne brushed it aside. “I can still walk.”

   Dessa noticed Rune shivering near the fire as Gorne took off his large coat to dye. The bearded man seemed unbothered by the cold. “Are you alright?”

   “Never felt better.”

    She checked his eye, his throat and his forehead for a fever. Most of the groups’ attention was towards him. Gorne just shrugged it off as he devoured a fish.

   Missandei sat down next to Rune and wrapped her arms around him. He stared down at the ground and tilted his head away from her. “You shouldn’t do that. I’ll just make you cold too.”

   “Do I look cold?” She took his hand. She had his fingers touch her exposed arms and neck. He tugged his hand away. She grabbed a shawl that Val got for her and covered his cold fingers with it. “Also, I have seen the way that you have looked at me.” She tightens her grip around him.

   “I don’t …know what…”

   “You’re attracted to me.”

   Rune lowered his voice. “Let’s say that I find you beautiful and exciting. If I believed that you would let me take you, I might be willing to do it. However,” his voice almost became mute. “Your father is here, and he is a veteran of many battles. I don’t wish to die before I could even get a kiss.”

    She chuckled, “You bravely travel to the deadly edge of the north, but you wouldn’t face one man.”

    “I might survive this journey.”

    Gorne didn’t survived the night from the fish’s poison. They burnt his body before they left. After a week of traveling, they couldn’t believe their eyes. An ice castle stood before them. Blue flames torches lit up the four towers. It appeared to be a clear path to the castle. Two miles from the castle laid an invisible barrier. Igraine’s bear got trapped in it. Jon assisted her in freeing her bear. Missandei touched the barrier. “It feels sticky.”

    Jokull examined it with his torch, “Oh no, spider web.” A swarm of ice spiders crawled down from twenty stories in the air. There were hundreds of creatures.

   Jon and his guard pulled in tight formation and fight the creatures. The ice spider killed all of Jokull’s dogs. The spider’s venom killed a person or creature instantly. Missandei’s ice dragon entered the battle and fired its’ cold fire at them. The giant spiders were knocked, but they remained unharmed. The ice spiders kept coming at them. Her ice dragon made a path for them all the way past the moot of the castle. It flew down to attack the spiders head on and protect the ground flank.

    Out of the moot, selkies emerged to attack them. They had the head of a board, a fin for a tail and their backs were covered in quills. The fat leathery selkies walked on all fours towards them. Igraine, Rune and the direwolves stayed behind to fight them.

    Jon, Missandei, Jokull and Dessa entered the castle. It was oddly empty compared to Westerosi castles. It contained simply a perimeter wall and a large quart yard. The yard resembled the inside of a throne room. There were rock pillars and ice statues.

    “Blood of dragons don’t belong here. I don’t give you permission to be in my realm.” A queen sat on her throne surrounded by four White Walkers. She looked like a wight. Her crown was made out of fingers and adored with four eyes. “Do you wish to join me fire prince? Or, do you wish to steal what is mine like your friend did?”

    As they slowly approached her, Dessa inquired, “What did this friend take?”

   “That’s really doesn’t matter.” Jokull gripped his spear ready for a fight. Though, Jon had to admit that he was curious.

   “He took my next king. My captains are precious.” She gestured to the White walkers. “They’re my babies. Still, out of all my children, there is one special baby born who can be my king.” The queen touched her belly, “my dear husband gave the power to me before the forest men and iron men killed him. We were always betrayed. Soon, night will fall again. My new Night King will arise.” Her mouth never moved as she spoke. Her voice seemed to echo.

   “We defeated one Night King.” Jon held up Longclaw. “We’ll defeat the next one.”

   “You really think me helpless.” She lifted up her long scepter. Eight giant furry monsters broke free from the four towers. They were seven-foot-tall and ran away like monkeys. Jon remembered a Free Folk legend called them Chuchunyas.

    Jokull and Dessa fought the Chuchunyas, while Jon and Missandei battled the White Walkers. Missandei had slayed one White Walker and was about to kill the next one. The Corpse Queen interceded Missandei’s blow with her scepter. Missandei twisted away to block the White Walker’s attack. She managed to take down the White Walker. Suddenly, she felt agony inside her. Her ice dragon was dead. This distracted her long enough for the queen to knock the sword out of her hand. The queen grabbed her by the throat. Missandei screams as she feels the queen’s power afflicted her. Jon quickly vanquished the remaining White Walkers. The queen is briefly startled by Missandei’s screams. Jon kicked the queen to the ground. She rose up, and he drove his sword into her. The Corpse Queen crumbles before his eyes. Her castle starts crumbling around them. Jon goes to check on his daughter, who has collapsed onto the ground. Not everything vanished away. A Chuchunyas jumped him. Thankfully, an arrow hit its’ head before it could rip him apart. The arrow didn’t come from Dessa’s quiver.

   Dessa, Quicksilver and Jokull were dead. Only Igraine, Rune, her snow bear and Ghost remained. Five Chuchunyas were alive as well. “Father,” Missandei shivered in Jon’s arms. “I’m cold.” Her skin was blue. He wrapped his coat over her.

   “She needs help.” Jon called out to Igraine. She had the only mount. “You have to take her back on your bear.”

    “I’ll stay and fight.” Igraine turned to her side. Jon could see dozens of quills in her body. “Rune take her back.”

    Rune carefully rushed over to Missandei, while they fought off the last of the Chuchunyas. He hoisted her onto the bear and rode off. Once the last Chuchunya was dead, Igraine dropped to the ground. Jon hated to see another mighty she-bear die for his cause. He prayed this was for the last time. Ghost came over and nuzzled against him.

    Rune held onto Missandei as they rode the bear. They didn’t stop because he feared for her health. The snow bear tired out midway. Thankfully, a mammoth was nearby. He climbed up it and rode to cave of the former three eyed raven. His people hadn’t entered the cave since the Other had first begun their attack. He hoped there was still supplies inside the cave.

    A Child of the Forest still lived there. Rune spoke the Old Tongue to her. She was called Snowlocks. She gladly assisted him with Missandei. They placed her by the fire. Snowlocks gave her a strange soup with weirwood seed paste in it. Missandei moaned deeply from the pain. Rune held her close to try and keep her warm. Snowlocks told him to help her remove some of Missandei’s clothes. He was confused until he noticed her skin. Thousands of tiny worms were crawling out of her flesh. Snowlocks handed him the bowl of soup to fed her, while she poured boiling acid berries water over her body. When it was done, they put clothes back on her. Missandei fell asleep. He breathed a sigh of relief. Snowlocks shook her little head, “The worst is not done. Most creatures die when the mother emerges.”

   Missandei had a feverish dream about two dragons flying towards the wall. One was silver, and the other was bronze. They danced in the sky. The mighty bronze dragon crashed to the ground. The silver dragon lamented and rested by the castle. “My love is gone. Is there anymore love to gain?” The silver dragon turned into a bright flame. The flame burned beneath the castle. It summoned for her. She awoke from her dream and begged Rune to take her to the Queensgate.

   The sight of the mammoth drew the attention of everyone in the Queensgate. They hoped for a giant. They were surprised to find a sick Missandei. The maester recommended placing her in a hot tub. He offered to give her some nightshade when she started to convulse.

   “No,” she pushed his hand away. She focused on Rune. “The cellar…under the snow…egg…bring it please.”

   Rune quickly departed for the cellar. He searched the room for snow. The cellar was one of the few parts of the castle in good condition. Morna’s group kept most of their food and wine inside. He tried to deduce what she meant be snow. Nothing stood out until something flickered from off the floor. A few gold flakes remained on carved snowflake brick. He quickly pried up the brick and found cracked dragon eggs’ shells. He shifted through the hole in the floor. Finally, he found one egg fully intact and rushed back to her.

   “There is nothing that can be done,” the maester rested his hand on Rune’s shoulder. “She has been poisoned.”

    Her face turned gray. She reached down her throat. Her skin turned slightly blue, and she let go. He dropped the egg in the tub when he noticed something wriggled in her mouth. He opened her mouth while ignoring the maester’s protesting. She gagged as he yanked out a giant worm out of her mouth. It was still twitching, so it stabbed it with his knife. She stopped breathing. The room was silent as he shook her. A high pitch scream startled everyone. The dragon egg had hatched. A tiny grayish silver dragon emerged. Missandei exhaled loudly. The little dragon flew over and perched on her shoulder.

Chapter Text

“You must loathe me for abandoning you.” Daenerys prayed that her son didn’t feel this way about her.
Jorah was a quiet deep thinker like his father and his namesake. “I saw once a lame child got thrown into the fire at Volantis. They threw him in for nothing more than a missing leg. They killed a health dwarf girl for being a dwarf. I had scales. The people in King’s Landing would have killed me if I hadn’t been sent away.”
Daenerys, Jorah and the woman Chanit were siting by a fire near their dragons. They were waiting for Daenerys’ group to arrive. Daenerys had been uncomfortable with the distance between her and her son. “That doesn’t mean that you don’t hate me.”
He glanced at Chanit. Her eyes pleaded to him something. “I don’t hate you.” Jorah turned to Daenerys.
It was quiet as they stared across a field in the Disputed Lands. Daenerys never knew her father or mother nor did anyone adopt her. She hadn’t seen her son who was almost a man now. She didn’t know how to act towards him.
“What’s your dragon’s name?” Chanit inquired of Daenerys as Chanit cradled her baby.
“Drogon.”
Chanit gently nudged Jorah. “Go meet your mother’s dragon.”
As he stood up, Daenerys rose. He showed no fear as he touched Drogon. This pleased Daenerys greatly. “I named him after my late husband Khal Drogo. He likes you.”
Jorah grinned at Drogon, “yes, he does. Though he doesn’t wish me to ride him. They’re very possessive.”
“I noticed,” Daenerys looked over her shoulder at his dragon. The smaller green dragon hissed at her. “What’s her name?”
He smiled at her impressed. “Most people mistake her for a boy.”
“She’s too pretty.”
Jorah could tell that Daenerys meant it. He beckoned his dragon to move closer. “Her name is Varanus.” The smaller dragon was cautious near the bigger Drogon. “Before she hatched, I had dreams about her, Drogon and another dragon.”
“A silver dragon?”
“Yes, what does the dragon mean? Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
The “Wolf of the Rose” sellsword company, her ko and Sam Tarly finally arrived. Xandarro pointed at the direction of ship. “Are you going home to Westeros now?”
“Westeros isn’t home.” Jorah declared, “our home is Valyria.”
Osric almost gasped. “No one has ever able to step foot on Valyria let alone conquer it.”
“I’m not conquering it.” Jorah countered. “The ancient Valyrians hurt the land and the people under them. We are going to continue heal the land.”
“You’ve been there?!” Osric stared at Jorah and Chanit.
“The desert part,” Chanit gently held her fussing baby. “So much food has been stolen from dirt. We have been gradually giving the land back bushes and trees.”
“We’ll need help to fix what my ancestor have destroyed.” Jorah stated.
“We need help as well.” Xandarro negotiated, “if you help us with our problem, we can perhaps help you with your problem.”
It seemed reasonable. Half the sellswords journeyed to Westeros, while the rest sailed to Npo Bata. Xandarro gave tasks for his men and even Jorah’s friend Zazat to do on the ship. He wanted to keep them busy, so Daenerys could spend more time with her son.
Jorah had been prompted by Chanit to show Daenerys his dragonglass figures. They were about the size of his hand.
“Your father had a direwolf and a dragon made for you before you were born.” Daenerys remembered how happy she was during her pregnancy. “He had a sheep and a stag made for you a few years later. He rode off to the Neck to give them to you. I would have come too, but I was so scared that I would endanger your life. The witch told me that I would never have children. Your older brother died the day that he was born. Your younger sister was born sickly and died soon afterwards.”
“This witch told you that after the birth of your first child?” Chanit wondered. “Did the baby have scales as well?”
“Yes, Rhaego had scales and graveworms.”
“Worms,” the word twisted in distain on Chanit’s tongue. “Of course, the fiend could prophecy that you wouldn’t have children since she poisoned your womb. I suspected as much.”
“How could you suspect it?”
“My sister is a skilled herb gatherer. When Jorah had been sick as a baby, she told me about the Marsh King’s aunt. The Marsh King had poisoned her womb. She gave birth to babies with leathery skin. One baby had no heart. Other babies had additional arms and legs. All the babies had their inners devoured by worms. We only learned about this because Stark had forced the Marsh King to confess before he killed the vile man. The witch must have found a similar poison for you.”
“Did Jorah have worms inside him?” Daenerys gripped the little dragon figure close to her body.
“They were very small. They hadn’t yet grown big enough yet. I drank bark tea and ate dark green leaves for two months until his body was cleanse of them.” Chanit got an idea. “Do you play Cyvasse, my lady?”
“A little.”
“Jorah, you should go play it with your mother.” Chanit suggested. He obeyed. He and Daenerys went to Osric’s cabin to play the game.
Chanit remained on the deck and watched the waves. Eziyo came towards her carrying their young son. He wrapped his arm around her. “Why do you support Daenerys having Jorah? He suckled from you and loved you as a mother all his life. She has no right to him. She abandoned him.”
“Remember how I told you about my baby dying.” She gazed out at the sea. “I lied. My daughter never died. My older sister had lost two babies. If she lost another baby to death, her mate’s family would force him to leave her. She knew something was wrong with the baby inside her. I loved my sister very much. We were both with child at the same time. Our mates were brothers. We decided to travel deep into the swamps. She gave birth first. I gave birth two days later. We switch children. After her daughter died, she encouraged me to confess what we had done. I refused. There was nothing to gain and everything to lose. Swear to me, my love, that you will tell no one of this.”
“I swear.”
The ship docked briefly at Astapor and Yin. They refused to stop at Asshai. They viewed Asshai as treacherous. “A place where men turned themselves into monsters to gain power.” Bathi recounted. They only mentioned to Daenerys that they were under siege from monsters. Maester Roone rolled his eyes at them. As the ship past by Asshai, the place was truly in the Shadow Lands. Even in midday, the city looked sinister and dead. The waters are black. There was no plants or animals. No children played in the street. A few masked people roamed the city. The Dothraki had scorned Asshai as well. Daenerys had to admit the place gave her a cold chill.
Thankfully, Npo Bata had been the opposite. It was vibrant and alive. There were various kinds of bushes, plants and trees. The villagers lived in small house of either stone or wood. Not much attention was given to Daenerys as she stepped foot on the shore. All eyes were on her dragon. Oddly, the older people of Npo Bata weren’t scared of her dragon. They cheered for Drogon as their protector.
Even men who desired her dragons had be fearful and weary of the creatures. She thought to herself, “what kind of monsters are they facing that would make a dragon appear less scary?” She considered this, while she and her son were given a tour of the village. It had two watermills. One mill made paper for books. The other mill grinded down pearl grains into powder to make bread. They traveled as far as the border of the village. The border had several towers built along it. Some towers were made from a strange stone that Daenerys had never seen before.
“It’s not stone,” Xandarro corrected.
“What else could it be?” Daenerys remarked.
“You’ll see tonight.”
Every night, each tower lit up like a lighthouse. She doubted it was to help travelers riding along to see. She suspected it kept certain travelers away. A mile away, ghost grass grew. A large creature’s claw slowly came into view. It was the size of a large elephant. A monstrous crab stared at them. Little Tzilla’s tales of monsters were true. Two more crabs emerged behind the first one. Drogon’s roar scared them away. Hence, the villagers love of dragons. Jhogo still kept his hand on his whip despite the monsters’ departure.
“The mammoth crabs searched for weak spots in our defenses. “Xandarro frowned. “They sometimes find one. They have gradually been pursuing it more often since the death of our dragon, Bastard. We have lost several people to the beasts. With you dragon here, we are safe.”
“No, you’re not,” a voice called out from the shadows.
Bathi pointed her bow at the mysterious figure approaching them.
“It’s alright.” Daenerys stuck her arm in front of the bow. “I know her.”
Quaithe walked towards them. Daenerys and Jhogo climbed down to meet her. Quiathe ignored Jhogo’s distain of her. “The King of Stygai is coming for you in about two years. He is amassing a huge dark army. He will kill all life here. Mother of Dragons and dragonseeds, this is not your home.” The masked woman looked up Xandarro. “You must return to your true home.” She turned to Daenerys. “The dragon queen must become Azor Ahai, so the king’s darkness doesn’t spread to all lands.”
When new of Quaithe’s warning spread, a larger group assembled for Valyria. Bathi, Same Tarly, Maester Roone, Sigorn, Rommo, and Chanit volunteered to go. Jorah wanted to go with Chanit, but his dragon was needed in the village. He wanted Chanit to stay behind.
Before the ship left, Chanit hugged Jorah. “It’s not fair for me to stay and allow someone else to endanger their life. I’m a trapper. I know how to walk the land in silence. I’m needed there as you are needed here. Learn from your mother and be a strong dragonrider.” She squeezed him tightly. “You’ll always be my fierce direwolf.” She let go of him and bowed to Daenerys. She walked on board the ship.
Valyria was split into four landmasses. The northern land had been connected to the rest of Essos. The other three lands were islands. They started with the northern land. Sigorn instructed them on how to feed the dead dirt and slowly sow the vegetation. The land had been mostly a desert. It was the easiest and longest part of their quest. Valyria had many perils.
The Smoking Sea wasn’t a mere fog. It had been a scorching wind which would soon burn most of their planted vegetation. Maester Roone fretted, “it might be magic. We can’t fix magic.”
“Everything has a cause.” Sam remained dauntless. “Let’s find it.”
Bathi and Chanit dived into the water with Sigorn’s special masks which had Myrish far-eyes. A while later, they swam fast to ashore. Bathi caught her breath. “Sam is right. The smoke is caused by a large device that’s boiling the water.” She showed them the slight burn on her arm. Osric went to retrieve some Myrish fire for it. “We can turn the device off. However, we would let loose the sea dragons.”
“You jest?” Sam hoped. She shook her head to him.
Maester Roone suggested, “Well, the Ironborn did claim to have killed a sea dragon once. Perhaps, they wouldn’t mind killing another.”
Eziyo sailed to find the Ironborn fleet. Osric left to retrieve Daenerys and her dragon. The Ironborn eagerly brought four ships. Two ships were positioned on each side of the Smoking Sea. Chanit and Rommo were tasked with turning off the devices, since they were the strongest swimmers. They used long poles, so as to not get burnt from the hot water. The sound of gears halting alerted the sea dragons.
“This is the son of Nagga. Our forefathers killed Nagga. Let’s mount his skull next to his father’s!” Yara rallied her men to charge at it. Daenerys attempted to get Drogon to move against one of the sea dragons. Unlike the Ironborn men, Drogon refused.
The sons of Nagga’s advantage was the sea. Drogon knew this and would not go near the water. The sea dragon near Daenerys behaved the same. It wouldn’t go close to shore. It knew that Drogon had the advantage there. Daenerys was stuck watching the sea dragon attacked the ships. The Ironborn ships slayed both creatures at the cost of half of their men. Yet, they left to celebrate their great victory and bring the two sea dragons’ heads back to the Iron Islands as trophies.
The scouting party lost Rommo who died while trying to stab a sea dragon in the back. A man named Caraxes replaced him. Daenerys promptly flew back to Npo Bata. She found Jorah in the village’s library. He was reading “Watchers on the Wall” to Zaza. “Do you ever wish that you could go back north of the Wall?”
“The slavers killed my family. There is nothing to go back to.” Zaza was wild loyal girl. She had dark hair except for a small red patch on her forehead, which she kept from dyeing it. “I’m a Free Folk. I take what I can claim. I claim you and Chanit as my family now.”
“Mother,” Jorah acknowledged Daenerys as she approached them. It pleased her that he called her this until she remembered the reason for it. Chanit had ask him to call Daenerys mother. There was no warmth in his words for her. “Is Chanit, Eziyo and my brother alright?”
“They’re well and miss you dearly.” Daenerys knew it would take time to have a good relationship with her son. Still, she wanted to rush over and squeeze him lovingly. She sat next to him instead. Zaza excused herself and left the two of them alone.
“Have you ever been to the Wall?” Jorah closed the book.
“I went there with your father once when we fought against the Night King. Would you like to visit the Wall one day?”
“I’m not asking because of that.” He groaned, “I had another dream about dragons there.”
“Tell me about it.”
“First, two dragons danced by the Wall. One dragon laid eggs. They both left. A boiling lake appeared. A new dragon sprung up. It was gray and silver.”
“With pale blue eyes?” Daenerys feared.
“Its’ eyes were black with hints of red. In the first dream, I saw it from far away. In the second dream, the dragon came close to me and…licked me.”
Daenerys giggled, “perhaps, that dream means you fancy a girl.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think that you fancy a girl, or you don’t think that the dream means that?”
“The meaning.”
“So, you do fancy a girl?” She grinned at his slight blush. She decided not to push him any further and changed topics. “Do you remember your father?”
“I think I recall his smile. My memory of his direwolf is very certain. It had soft white fur and red eyes. I wish the dream meant father is coming here.”
“Me too,” she knew that wasn’t possible. Jon wasn’t going to get another dragon after his dragon had died.
Yet, creatures which no one believed existed were discovered alive in Valyria. They had captured the beasts on the western island. Jorah insisted on coming with Daenerys to visit and see the creatures. In a large cage, there were four creatures that were about five foot tall
“Are those beasts what I think they are?” Daenerya stared in astonishment and disgust at them.
“How many creatures are on the island?” Osric inquired of Chanit.
“Hundreds, maybe more,” Chanit sharpened a stone. “What do you want done with them?”
“Captures them all.” Everyone regarded Jorah in confusion except for Daenerys. “They’re a symbol that we can use.”
Daenerys knew what he was planning and agreed. “We’ll store them in Meereen and Yunkai.”
“Alright,” Chanit agreed. “We need more soap. This island is filthy. I have no doubt that the other two will be as well.” She caught about two thousand of the creatures. Eziyo carefully carted them over to the Bay of Dragons. They were busy for months transporting the creatures.
Jorah cared for their son Noho during this time. He adored the boy as if he were his younger brother. Noho had a sweet disposition. Daenerys grew fond of him. The little boy was afraid of the dragons. However, he trusted Jorah enough to ride with him on Varanus. Daenerys and Jorah enjoyed flying together until one dusk a large monster entered their sky over Npo Bata.
It had the appearance of a dragon and a wight. Some of its’ scale had peeled off. Its’ eyes were bloody, and it had large patches of pus. The huge nasty dragon charged at Jorah and his dragon. Varanus was faster than it. She flew Drogon at the wight dragon. Drogon ferociously attacked it. The unknown dragon attempted to fight back, but it couldn’t beat the larger and stronger Drogon. It had missing claws and huge gushes. Drogon shredded its’ wings effortlessly. The wight dragon fell onto a light tower. It was still twitching, so Drogon landed next to it and torn through its’ neck.
The rider climbed off the dead dragon. She looked like a shadowbinder. She had been injured by the attack. Daenerys was tempted to help her, until the woman crawled towards her son like lion pursing its’ prey. Daenerys pointed her sword at the woman.
“It’s not fair!” The masked woman hissed. “My son was supposed to be the chosen prince. They made me sacrifice him.” She clawed threating at Jorah. “I won’t let anyone else be it.”
Daenerys stabbed her in the back and rushed over to Drogon to face their new problem. Some mammoth crabs had escaped through the perimeter. The dragons were able to drive the large crabs back.
The villagers began leaving in haste. Daenerys had Jorah depart from Npo Bata as well. Valyria wasn’t ready to be settle yet. More people volunteered to help in Valyria. Most of the villagers stayed in the safe Astapor. Some people remained behind to gather the harvest and tend to the flocks.
The scouts in Valyria had been raided by savage Stone Men and deformed haggard men. They were able to quash the raids. Osric had been killed in the conflict. The western and eastern islands had been cleansed of hostile creatures. Master Roone felt it was safe to travel the eastern island and examined the old ruins. Bathi didn’t think that was a good idea. “The ruins are dangerous. We don’t know if the structures are sound.”
“I have been well trained in this regard. We will be careful.” Master Roone proceed against her recommendations. An acolyte maester Ollidar, Xandarro’s son Norren and Sam Tarly accompanied him. Chanit lingered behind the group as they walked through the ruin city. “This is truly amazing. From the look of it, this building is about twenty floors tall. There is the remnant of a large staircase. I am curious about this long shaft behind that door here. Ollidar make a drawing of it.” The acolyte started his outline as Master Roone inspected a mural. “A man riding what looks like a sea dragon.”
“Look over here,” Norren tapped on a pillar. “Someone engraved the words, ‘Aerea the Adventurer.’”
Master Roone glanced up the pillar to see if there were any more writings. “There seems to be pipes inside the ceiling. I wonder if there are in the floors.” He and his acolyte removed some of the floor tiles. There was integrate piping underneath it.
“Don’t touch it,” Chanit was concerned about the green fungus over all the pipes. “Let’s get some boiling water and cleanse it first.”
“I have gloves.” Maester Roone poked around. “I’m curious about its’ function.”
Chanit pulled back. “Don’t turn it on or I'll discover a blade pose to kill you inside.” Sam Tarly pulled back, but the others didn’t.
“It’s ancient.” Maester Roone thought the idea ridicules. “There is no way that the device can still work after this long.” He twisted a lever. A whistling sound came from inside the pipe.
No one seemed to move except for Chanit. She grabbed Norren and shoved him away. A gray cloud of dust sprayed on Chanit, Maester Roone and Ollidar. “Go get a large pot of water and place it far away from the camp.” She commanded Sam. “We are to be separated from the other.”
“There is no need.” Maester Roone protested. “It’s simply dirt.”
“Then, seven days away from them will prove it,” she insisted.
By the next day, all three of them had fevers. Their knuckles gradually paled, and their eyes turned yellow. Maester Roone attempted every potion and ran every test for a cure. Meanwhile, Jorah was sent to speak with the Wood Walkers. A week went by, their symptoms worsen. Their bellies ached, and they felt ravenous. One night, Chanit discovered Maester Roone trying to sneak away. “You can’t walk into their camp.”
“We aren’t going to spread the sickness.” Maester Roone stated. “Sam hasn’t been infected when he brings us food.”
“He covers his face and keeps his distance. I covered my face as well. We can’t take a chance with the others.”
“It’ll be fine. I’m starving. I can’t stand that weed food.”
“It’s the only thing that our bodies can eat.” Chanit stood in his way. “The sickness steals any other food that we eat. You would just be wasting their food.”
“I don’t care. I want it!” She grabbed his arm and held him back. “What do you-“
She plunged her dagger into him. “You already doomed us.” She yanked it out. “I won’t let you endanger their lives.”
The Wood Walkers had a cure for the sickness. Though, they had just enough for one person. Same considered giving them each half the amount. Bathi and Chanit knew that wouldn’t work. Chanit gave young Ollidar all of the cure.
She didn’t want a long painful death. Chanit agreed to Bathi’s plan. There was a small volcano on the southern island. Bathi devised a method of flushing all the volcano’s magma into the Valyrian pipelines. Some of their group didn’t wish to destroy the ancient structures. The Valyrian mines and volcanic power had been constructed on the misery and death of slaves. They didn’t need the reminder or the temptation. When she pulled the lever, Chanit understood that she couldn’t escape the magma. The magma vanquished everything that it touched. A few monsters managed to escape.
Large firewyrms erupted from their underground livid. Unlike their name, they didn’t actually breath fire. Their mouths let out a hot steam. Fire didn’t hurt them nor could most steel baldes cut through their tough skins. Sam’s Heartsbane was the only sword that could kill the beasts. Jorah’s dragon swooped down and attacked some of the wyrms. Still, Sam was being overwhelmed. Jorah broke his sword, while striking a firewyrm. He scrambled for another weapon. There was a sword with a worn hilt under some ramble. Jorah picked it up and slashed at a nearby firewyrm. He hoped to distract it from Sam. Instead, the unknown blade sliced deep into its’ hide. Jorah joined Sam in hacking the creatures to pieces.
Once the fight was over, Sam examined Jorah’s new sword. It had a few flakes of gold on the hilt. Sam figured the hilt must have been encased in gold. The blade also must be Valyrian steel.
Back in Npo Bata, Xandarro and Daenerys were rounding up the last supplies on to their ships. Suddenly, dark clouds blocked the midday sun. A large shadow spawned an army of shadows which swept across the land towards them.
Drogon shot dragonfire at the enemy army. The shadow army vanished, but the large shadow disappeared to reveal a large sphinx. It had the body of a lion. Yet, it was adored with a feathery mane and had bird wings. The sphinx charged at Drogon and stroke him with its’ might paw.
Daenerys directed her dragon to fly up and away from the ship. She was glad that she did. The sphinx’s chunky body made flight slow and cumbersome. Drogon noticed it too. He would do spring attacks and swift retreats against the sphinx. The sphinx had powerful jaws and claws to contend with. Drogon was carefully not to let it pin him down. The sphinx got in a few swipes. It wasn’t enough. Drogon torn it apart. Before she could savor victory, a group of shadows snatched her off of Drogon.
They brought her to the sphinx’s rider who had leaped off of his dead creature. He looked like a shadowbinder except for the gold crown with the black rubies. The shadows were about to overwhelm and crush her when Drogon burnt them away. The rider remained. Daenerys quickly stabbed the rider in the heart. He was unphased by her blow as well. He went to hack her with his own sword. Xandarro intercepted the hit and told her to escape. None of his swords strikes had any effect on the rider. It reminded Daenerys of when she had used dragonfire on the Night King. They felt similar, but the Night King didn’t wear… a crown. The eerie black rubies might be the source of his power. She pretended to flee to the ship as she hurled an empty crate at him. It knocked down the rider and his crown fell off his head. The rider immediately ran to retrieve it. “The Crown!”
Xandarro attempted to block him. The rider evaded and grabbed his crown. However, Jhogo snatched it away with his whip and gave it to Daenerys. She smashed the black rubies with her sword. The rider screamed as each ruby shattered. As the final ruby broke, the rider collapsed helpless to the ground. Xandarro removed his jade mask to reveal a withered old man with large red veins. Daenerys promptly beheaded him. The dark clouds blew away.
Her small group arrived triumph at the northern part of Valyria. For the first time, she and Drogon felt at home. It might have helped that her son ran over and embraced her. “Mother!”
She hugged Jorah, “my son.” She twisted her head around to look at Sam Tarly. “How goes our progress for resettlement?”
“Very well,” Sam happily reported. “You should be able to plant vegetation soon since all the deadly creatures are gone. Jorah has proved himself quite the knight. According to my father, your daughter is a fine warrior too.”
She let go of Jorah. “My daughter is dead.”
“My father wrote about that. He mentioned how everyone thought she would die.” Sam confirmed. “None of the maester truly understand how she survive. It seemed the harsh northern cold saved her life.”
“Where is she?” Daenerys clutched onto Sam’s arm tightly.
Sam showed her the letter, “at the Wall in Shadow Tower with her father who is helping maintain the peace with the Wildlings.”
Both Daenerys and Jorah wanted to rush over and see Missandei. Jorah reminded her of the previous plans. “There are matters that we need to settle first.” He was behaving like a true prince. Though, he hated being called one. Daenerys admired that and his compassion.
During their voyage to the Free Cities, she watched him play with Chanit’s son Noho. Daenerys approached Jorah as the little boy raced over to his father, Eziyo. “I’m sorry for your loss. I know you cared for Chanit deeply.”
Jorah gently held Daenerys’ hand. “I have great affection for you.” His soft voice changed. “If you are ever cruel to my little brother Noho, I swear I’ll banish you from my heart.” She was proud of even his threat. He was a true Targaryen just like her.
Targaryen rained down fire and blood on their enemies. They decided to repay Qarth’s assassination attempts. The Pureborn of the Thirteen were given a gift of little poisonous wyrms and a note of warning “The slave trade has ended.” Then, they sailed to Volantis.
Benerro was about to sacrifice the Widow of Waterfront and some of her sons, when two dragons landed in front of the Red Temple. He went and bowed to Daenerys. “I greet you, princess who was promised. We have cleansed the city of the evil masters like you did in the former Slaver’s Bay.”
“There are still slaves here.” Daenerys pointed out.
“They must be punished for their families’ crimes.”
“I don’t care for his evil reasoning,” Daenerys addressed the crowd. “A man is solely responsible for his own crimes. As my red priests know, my will has always been to completely get rid of slavery. Benerro must be punished for his dark deeds. My son and heir Jorah will issued the punishment.”
The bald heavily tattooed priest was in shocked to see the rather common looking young man. “It is simple. If you’re truly a fire priest, you can control any fire.” Benerro became a bit more optimistic at his survival until Jorah declared, “including dragonfire.”
Jorah’s green dragon Varanus slowly crept towards Benerro. The man casted every spell that he could. Nothing worked on the she-dragon. He pleaded and cowered in fear as Varanus roasted him.
“There will be no more sacrifices nor slaves.” Daenerys decreed. “Leaders of the city will be chosen from all walks of like and no longer just the rich. We serve the light by protecting life and by improving the welfare of all.”
After things were settled in Volantis, she visited both Myr and Tyrosh with a proposition. She proclaimed in the cities, “I’m issuing a new law for the Free Cities, ‘no more slavery.’ From now on, your city will truly be free. Those who wish to adhere to the new law will show it be walking out of the city now, and I will give you my protection.”
“If we don’t agree and leave, you’ll burn all of us who stay with your dragon. Then, you’ll conquer our city.” The magisters accused.
“I’m not here to conquer you nor will my dragon burn your city now. Your kingdom is free to rule itself any way that you like except for slavery.”
“How do you propose to make this happen, beggar queen?” The magisters mocked, “without the use of a dragon and barely two thousand soldiers.”
“You know my reputation. My dragon and I are here to protect you. Come with us and be safe.” She turned to the magisters. “All I ask is that you leave the city gates open so those who see the true face of slavery may be able to flee.” A group of people came out of the cities with her. The magisters left the gates open and posted many guards at the gates. For an hour, they watched her and her dragon, who stood a mile away from their city.
Hitch pitch snarls echoed throughout the cities. All of a sudden, a swarm of about eight thousand harpies began their onslaught. The bloodthirsty monsters didn’t resemble their revered noble creatures. The harpies terrorized and torn to shreds Myr and Tyrosh. The citizens quickly fled from the cities. The remaining magisters of Myr that weren’t killed begged for Daenerys’s aid. The Archon of Tyrosh dropped to his knees in front of her. He vowed the abolishment of slavery. Daenerys removed all the harpies except for one corpse in each city. “It will stay as a reminder for you about the true face of slavery. It’s not a man’s face, but a monster’s face.” The people stared at the dead harpy in horror. The ancestors were wrong in their description of the beast. Perhaps, they were wrong about other things.
Next, Daenerys traveled to Lys. The magister immediately bowed to her new law. They had received reports about the savage disfigurements and agonizing deaths. She insisted on giving them a dead harpy as well. She addressed every person in Lys. “I will have my men routinely stay in your city and ensure no one is a slave any longer. They will remain until you all realized that Lys can exist and flourish without slavery. If you harm any of my men, I will rain fire and blood upon you. I will start with your leaders. You can still choose to make Lys as you wish it. All that has changed is everyone now has a choice.”
She used a different tactic in Pentos. She dined with all the magisters. “You probably heard what I did to the other Free Cities concerning slavery. Everyone knows your servants are slaves in everything but name. I will not allow this continue. You will forgive all your servants of their debts, and you will no longer charge them a ridicule amount of money. Since I have been shown kindness here,” She glanced at Illyrio Mopatis. “You will be shown kindness in return.” Large crates of gold and precious stones were carried over to them. “You will each be compensated for your servants’ debt. As long as you abandon this practice, I will consider you, my friends.”
Braavos was also given treasures from Valyria. Jorah publicly kneeled before the Sealord. “Your second sword had done my family a great service. These gifts cannot repay the debt that I owed you and all the people of Braavos. I took your servant from you. May I alone incur any punishment for the deed.”
“You and your mother have done the will of Braavos.” Sealord held out of his hand to Jorah. “You have rid slavery from most of Essos. More than that, you have restored the honor of Valyria. You have gained our respect.”
They didn’t stay for the feast at Braavos. Instead they set sail for White Harbor, there they flew to Shadow Tower. Daenerys was startled by the Wall. It seemed more than half the size shorter from the last time that she came. Jon and his daughter weren’t at the tower. They received a raven that Missandei was at the Queensgate. Jon had been the first to greet them. Though, dragons helped save them from the Night King. The Free Folk were still leery of the giant creatures.
“My queen,” Jon bowed his head to Daenerys.
“Nephew,” she grinned warmly.
Jon ran to his son and hugged him. “I thought I imagined it.” Jorah admitted once his father released him from the hug.
“Imagined what?” Jon muzzled the younger man’s hair. It was black just like Jon’s own hair.
“Your smile,” Jorah petted Ghost.
“Your sister’s smile is far greater.” Jorah gestured for them to come inside.
Daenerys walked alongside Jon. “You look exhausted.”
“Your daughter and her quest,” she waited for him to continue. Yet, Jon simply stated, “Missandei will tell you all about it.”
Her daughter sat by the fireplace. She tossed her blanket aside and got up from her chair as they entered the room. Missandei tilted her head puzzled. The woman standing before her had Missandei’s violet eyes and silver hair. “Mother?”
Daenerys embraced her. “I thought I lost you forever. My little girl,” tears fell down Daenerys’ face. She was overjoyed to see her so much that she almost didn’t notice the little silver dragon on Missandei’s back. “You are indeed my daughter.” She petted the little dragon.
Tormund held a feast in Daenerys and Jorah’s honor at the Eastwatch by the Sea. Their ship was to set sail for Valyria in the morning. Daenerys sat next to Jon during the meal. She leaned towards him. “Are you upset that Missandei is coming with us?”
“I’m glad that you can spend time with her. She is a young woman now. She needs a mother’s guidance.”
Tormund slapped Jon’s back, “what he meant is she is becoming a full grown she-dragon, and he is terrified.” They all laughed. He tossed a flask at Rune.
Rune opened the flask and smelled inside it. “I don’t drink beer.”
“I know,” Tormund chuckled. “It’s for Missandei. It’s the only way that you’re going to catch her is if she is drunk.”
“We don’t do that anymore to get to a wife.” Jon had been working to soften this Free Folk tradition.
Val corrected, “mate, my handsome southern.”
Daenerys observed Missandei blushing at Rune. “You aren’t going to follow the Targaryen tradition?”
“Of wedding siblings together?” Jorah interjected. “I have reviewed the results of such unions. Most of them had been dreadful. This is one tradition that doesn’t deserve to be continued.”
Daenerys had to agree. Her life would have been a nightmare if she had married her brother. That night, her son wedded Mansi under a weirwood tree. Daenerys did the ceremony in the Targaryen fashion. Jorah and Mansi stayed behind at the Wall for a month or two. He wished to spend time with his father. Zaza stayed too. She wished to learn more about her people. When Jorah and Mansi left Westeros, she came with them. Daenerys and Missandei went straight to Valyria.
While they were deciding their plans for their family home, Missandei asked her mother. “Should we make you a throne?”
“No,” Daenerys petted Drogon. “All a Valyrian queen needs is a dragon to sit on.”