The Dothraki sea continued on, a seemingly endless expanse of waving grass, taller than a man grown. The men were growing restless, tired of the days of riding, that turned into weeks, that turned into months. They were a force of 19,000 men, followed by nearly a thousand camp followers; whores, cooks, washerwomen and similar get. It had been nearly eleven weeks since they had departed from Volantis, headed East in search of the Targaryen siblings, Viserys III Targaryen, Rightful King of Westeros, and his sister, Daenerys, who was married to a Dothraki Khal, for the promise of a Dothraki army to reclaim the Iron Throne for Viserys.
Their purpose was to join that army of Dothraki savages, 8,000 men from the city of Lys, and 11,000 men from the city of Volantis, the majority of the warriors from the Tiger Party in the city. The fleets of Volantis and Lys were prepared to send the entire Dothraki hoard across the Shivering Sea to Westeros, and the 19,000 men, led by a man that most called "The Brightflame," was there to swear their fealty to Viserys, and council him to head south to Volantis.
But word had reached Brightflame, by way of a merchant caravan from Pentos, that was headed West after stopping in Vaes Dothrak, that King Viserys Targaryen, Third of His Name and Rightful King of Westeros, was dead. A pot of molten gold was poured upon his head, as Khal Drogo gave him the crown he promised him. A pity, but their mission continued regardless, they would find Daenerys Targaryen, who had the ear of the Khal, as his wife, and bearer of his child, and bring the Dothraki hoard south.
Their large army passed a burned settlement of the Lhazareen, still smoldering from when it had been sacked, and decapitated heads were piled ten feet high in several places. Obviously they were closing the distance to the Dothraki khalasar, as fires still burned throughout what had been a town, but was now little more than a smoldering ruin. Every building was torn down and burnt, unburied, headless bodies littered what had been streets.
'This is the level of carnage and destruction that would be wrought upon The Seven Kingdoms, if we were to bring the Dothraki to Westeros. We may claim the kingdoms, but no one would ever respect, love or even follow someone who sat at the front of an army of savages, rapists and slavers. The damned Triad, and my fellow Magisters are all naught but fools if they think this plan would work.'
Their solemn and quiet column rode past a piling of heads, nearly ten feet high; the largest so far. But all of the heads on this grotesque spectacle were babes, and the children who were too young to be sold as slaves. 'Dothraki savages, Illyrio had better have a reason for all of this. Why let the Dothraki go East, to collect slaves, when I was already setting preparations in motion for the mobilization of Lys and Volantis? A waste of lives, and Viserys got himself killed, the arrogant, mad, excuse for a dragon.'
They continued on, grim and silent throughout the rest of the day. Eleven thousand men was much more than the company's solemn leader had ever led before, though he and his men knew he was up to the task. He was a wealthy man from Lys, with proud Valyrian heritage, trained since he was a child to be a leader of men, sharp of mind, and quick with a blade. He was a Magister, through noble birth and wealth, and he was the depiction of Valyrian beauty.
His eyes were a deep purple, bordering on black, while his hair shone pure silver in color. He had high, sharp cheekbones, and near statuesque features that had woman throwing themselves at him in Lys. He was tall and slender, though he had more strength and muscle than his physique would suggest, while retaining a quickness that his slender build amplified. He rode a tall destrier, and was fitted in coal-black plate armor, with a cloak that billowed behind, a myriad of red, orange and black that seemed as if fire itself followed behind him.
Every man that followed him was also of Valyrian descent, though generally to a lesser extent. Valyrian looks actually dictated standing among the army, those who silver, silver-blonde or white hair, and purple or light blue eyes were treated as a higher class than those who bore more common looks, even if they had more Valyrian heritage. It was a result of having an army composed of citizens and warriors from the two cities left in the known world that celebrated Valyrian descent, and were famous for having the highest populations of Valyrian descendents.
The Brightflame had the most prominent and defined Valyrian looks, was head of a merchant business in Lys that controlled the wine trade, had pure Valyrian parentage, was highly educated and well trained in warfare, and was the most popular figure in Lys. The Balaerys family of Old Volantis swore fealty to him, mobilized the entire Tiger party in Volantis, and with their help, 8,000 men were ferried from Lys to Volantis, where they were joined by the three Balaerys brothers. After feasting for three weeks in Volantis, and stocking supplies, they began to march the army north, to find Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen.
They were nearing the edge of the Dothraki Sea, when they met scouts from Khal Drogo's Khalasar. After a short exchange, they were informed of Khal Drogo's death, and Khaleesi Daenerys' stillborn son, all due, they claimed, to a Lhazareen maegi who had poisoned the Khal and his son. The Khalasar abandoned Daenerys, and the massive Khalasar was splintering as several khals emerged. The Dothraki scouts told them to continue three leagues north and east, and so Brightflame gave them gifts in return for the gift of their information, and let them pass by his large force.
After the scouts rode off into the distance, Brightflame called the other leaders of the army to him, to give council. The three Balaerys brothers were first to ride up to him, followed by Magister Mulaurro from Lys, the captain of the Tiger Guard of Volantis, and Brightflame's nephew, Valarr, who though he had the dark skin, and dark hair of his father, bore the violet eyes that The Brightflame's sister had had. Valarr was actually older than Brightflame, as his sister had been born 23 years before he was, but had died in the birth of Valarr, before Brightflame had been born.
As all of his advisers were gathered around him, the Brightflame spoke of his concerns, and spoke in clear High Valyrian, rather than the chopped version that was usually spoken in the Free Cities, "Viserys died, and we continued on, putting our hopes instead on Daenerys. But as you have all undoubtedly heard, Khal Drogo, and his son are dead. The largest Khalasar in known history has fractured, leaderless. Daenerys is only a few leagues north and east, but we now face the threat of the Dothraki seeing us as a hostile force with no belonging here, deep in the Dothraki Sea. The Khalasar is fractured, but there was well over 100,000 men in the Khalasar, and even a fraction of that poses a serious threat to us. We can continue on, and collect Daenerys and whoever remains with her, but we face grave danger here."
Valarr laughed, "We have 19,000 men, uncle, not even 50,000 Dothraki screamers are a threat to us. The savages would never attack an organized force such as this."
Olaerin, the eldest Balaerys brother added his agreement, though his High Valyrian was forced and awkward, "7,000 mounted on horse, we have. 3,000 men of bows, we have. 5,000 tigers with spear and shield, and 4,000 Lysene warriors. Well built army, Dothraki no threat to us."
Mulaurro was an aged slave trader, and owned a quarter of the pleasure houses in Lys, and had helped Brightflame gather the support of the other Magisters of Lys, to set out with an army. He was dressed in silks of white and gold, even among an army, "We should go get the Targaryen girl, whether she has a Dothraki hoard behind her or not. Then we leave this damned sea, and go back to Volantis, where the fleet awaits us."
Brightflare wanted to scream in frustration, as the third Balaerys brother asked, "What do we need the girl for, if she has no Dothraki army with her? 19,000 is not enough to besiege all Seven Kingdoms. So even if we get more support from Volantis and Lys both, all of the worthy warriors of both cities are here with us, now. And all we would have is a teenage princess; she is not anyone that the houses of Westeros would swear to, and hardly someone this army would swear to.""
Valarr put forward his own idea, "I say we get the girl, and we send a message to my father, of a betrothal proposal. We marry Daenerys to the Martell Prince, Quentyn, and secure the spears of Dorne behind us. If agreed to, we sail from Volantis with our army, and Daenerys, and land at Sunspear. Dorne can easily raise 50,000 men, good spears, if all the banners supported us."
Olaerin nodded, as did his brothers, and spoke in agreement, "Dorne would be good choice. First we need the girl."
Brightflame ended the conversation, saying, "It is a solid plan, though there may yet be other options as well. For now, we go find Daenerys, and then we will talk more." The group split apart, riding back to their own sections in the column, but not before each man bowed, as much as they could in a saddle, to Brightflame.
It took what felt like ages to Brightflame, for their group to get near to Daenerys. But when they arrived, night had fallen around them, as the Dothraki who remained with Daenerys were all focused on the largest funeral pyre that Brightflame had ever seen, as he rode at the head his army towards Daenerys. Overhead, a comet raced through the sky, the dragon's tail, a deep blood red.
There were dozens who were still with Daenerys, though none of them paid any mind at all to Brightflame, and the two dozen men who accompanied him, while their army waited a respectful distance away. As Brightflame walked through the Dothraki alone, towards Daenerys, said girl took a torch from a man standing next to her, and thrust it between several logs. In seconds, tendrils of flame raced throughout the entire pyre, traveling along paths of flammable oil.
Finally, one man seemed to take notice of Brightflame, a Westerosi knight by the armor he wore, and a northern one at that. He positioned himself to be in the way of Daenerys, before he took in Brightflame's appearance, his Valyrian looks, his eyes and hair, and beautiful face, and his ornate armor, deep black. The knight's grim look evaporated into confusion, as he muttered a name, "Rhaegar?"
Brightflame shook his head slowly, but reached into a small pouch that was tucked behind him, hidden by cloak of flames, and pulled out a golden crown with seven points, each one in the shape of a roaring dragon, with ruby eyes. It was beautiful, and worth a fortune, and in an instant, Ser Jorah Mormont realized what the crown was, and more importantly, who's.
He stepped aside.
The pyre was blazing hot now, and everyone had taken several steps back, as the screams of a woman filled the air. Glancing at the woman, and judging from her black-gray tatters, Brightflame guessed her to be the maegi who poisoned and killed Drogo and his son. He began to step forward, towards Daenerys, who walked forward into the fire, un-noticing or uncaring of Brightflame. Jorah and the Dothraki began to yell at the Targaryen woman who walked as if in suicide into the flames.
Daenerys' leather vest began to smolder and burn, and so the woman shrugged it off, leaving her topless, though she must have been uncaring. And in that instant, Brightflame knew what he had to do. He grabbed the shoulder of the Westerosi knight, and called behind him for Valarr, and quickly bid them both to undo his armor. The knight was hesitant at first, but quickly helped Valarr, and in three minutes, Brightflame was left only in his trousers. Brightflame handed Valarr the crown, knowing that he could not carry it into the flames, but Valarr handed him the heirloom of their grandfather, Aerion Brightflame.
Slowly at first, he traced the steps that Daenerys had made as she walked into the flames. After ten steps, he finally saw her through the smoke, surrounded by prancing stallions, and roaring dragons of flames. Brightflame's hair was singing, and his trousers were visibly on fire, and every part of his body dripped in sweat, but he felt only a comforting warmth around him, and he cradled the heirloom of his family to his chest, feeling the warmth that emanated from it growing and growing.
A smoke figure appeared before Daenerys, a great Dothraki man, who Brightflame knew to be Khal Drogo, though he did not know. He cracked a great whip of smoke through the air, and suddenly an equally great crack filled the air. It was the sound of stone shattering, and a part of the pyre collapsed on itself.
When it was over, a chunk of stone, pale and veined with pure gold, lay at Daenerys' feet. It was a piece of a hatched dragon's egg. And with that, Brightflame knew that he was right, that his dreams of dragons, and of a young woman, still a child, amid fire and smoke, giving birth to dragons, had been visions of his future.
A second crack filled the air, as screams and cries of wonder from outside the fire reached Daenerys and Brightflame both. Finally, Brightflame reached Daenerys, cradling the heirloom of Aerion Brightflame in one arm, and placed his right hand on Daenerys' shoulder, all as the third crack filled the air, as if the world was splitting apart.
As Daenerys turned to face this stranger who stood with her in the fire, cradling a dragon egg that was so beautiful. It was primarily gold, with silver spirals spreading throughout it like fire. His eyes were like amethyst, though he was now bald, and smooth faced. And naked too, and as bare as she now was, both were completely hairless, as it was singed by the flames that left them unharmed. His eyes, so beautiful, were not looking at her, but at the egg he held in his arm, and they watched together as it split apart before their eyes, a live dragon, silver in color, with a golden stripe down his long spine and tail.
Three more dragons appeared, jumping onto Daenerys, flapping their new wings lightly to land into her open arms. One of the other dragons was a white, cream color, while another was a mixture of green and bronze. As the fire died around them, those two dragons were suckling milk from Daenerys' breasts, while a third one, black and crimson, with deep red eyes, was laying across her shoulders.
Brightflame's own dragon was on his shoulders, shining silver and amazing to behold. Their spectators were awed, and with mouths dropped open in shock, Ser Jorah and Valarr dropped to their knees, followed shortly by all of the Dothraki. The Dothraki called out "Blood of my blood," and each stepped forward to lay their curved arakh at the feet of Daenerys and Brightflame, who stood tall and proud, together.
They both stepped forward, as the black and crimson dragon about Daenerys' shoulders hissed, smoke streaming from its nostrils, as the two that were suckling Daenerys' breasts lifted their heads and added their own cry. Brightflame's dragon though, stayed silent as stone, staring at the other three with uncaring, amethyst eyes. Silently, Valarr raised the golden crown of Queen Rhaella Targaryen, and Brightflame grabbed it delicately in his hands.
He turned to face Daenerys, his voice cutting through the quiet that had settled over all of those assembled, "I, Aerion Brightflame Targaryen, Magister of Lys, and scion of House Targaryen, do name you, Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, and rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." With those symbolic words spoken, he placed the crown upon Daenerys' head, and bent his knee to his Queen.