"Yzavian Arturian," speaking in Dothraki

"Yzavian Arturian," speaking in High Valyrian

"Yzavian Arturian," speaking in Common Tongue

Yzavian Arturian, thoughts

Yzavian Arturian, dragons speaking to humans; humans to dragons; in mind. Horses speaking to humans, humans speaking to horses, in mind.

11 years before Season 1,

Drogo stared at his brother as he watched him swim in the poison water. His brother was too adventurous, their Father blamed it on his mother, she was a foreign bride and had died from the birthing fever, a week after his brother had been borne.

While his brother was four and weak, Drogo was strong and tall for a person of three and ten summers. He and his brother were polar opposites, rather it was in looks or the brain. Drogo would abide more by his father's rules, and the rules of the Dothraki. He didn't question why they couldn't travel over the poison water, he didn't question why they couldn't use blood magic.

Drogo was tall and muscular, the size of a man of the Westerosi soldiers, he had long dark hair always kept in a braid, copper skin, and dark eyes, and a wispy looking beard, his brother took more after his foreign mother. His brother kept his hair long, because he had not seen battle yet, it was silver and in the night glittered, he kept it in a long braid to keep it out of his way when he fought some of the younger tribesman, in training, he had pale violet eyes, almost silver in color if it was night.

While Drogo was tanned and full of bulging muscles, his brother was skinny as a stick and lightly tanned almost like a peach. He was so into his thoughts about the differences between him and his brother that he didn't even know that a storm was brewing right over his brother, as he playfully swam in the water.

The clouds were a bright red and gray, with blotches of purple in them, the sky was not even visible through the thick clouds. "Yzavian," he called out to his brother trying to get him out of the poison water, before the waves crushed his skinny brother like the stick he resembled. His brother laughed and splashed in the poison water, like he was freaking the greatest female dog in the world.

He became too deep in the poisonous waters, that he could only identify the blotch of pale gray as his brother.

His father had forbid Yzavian from swimming in the poisonous water last time he came home with the stench of the poison. Yzavian had simply pouted, but planned in secret his next visit to the water. He had been a fool to agree to go with his brother, his brother had tried to coax him into the water, even teach him how to swim.

He had refused, the only reason he had strayed away from the camp was to convince his brother not to go into the waters. "Yzavian, we have to go back to the camps, " his voice rang out strong and clear, just like the voice of the future khal should sound like.

Yzavian head turned up, hearing his brother's voice. His brother and Father always ruined his fun. He had heard from his mother's relatives when they had come visit the Khalasar, which was his always his nameday, that his mother had loved swimming, they even suspected that she had some Ironborn blood in her.

But then he saw the clouds. He immediately been to panic, a storm was brewing and it was close, and he expected that it was a thunderstorm. Thunderstorms brought lightning, and lightning hitting water, making a fried Yzavian. He immediately began to panic, he swam as fast as his small body could take him. He quickly swallowed the poisonous water, and retched at the vile taste. His braid came loose and wrapped around his face, making him swallow the silver threads.

"Brother help me.." His brother was becoming harder and harder to see, and it felt like he was becoming smaller and smaller. "Brother, Brother, please save me." He added this in High Valyrian, the tongue of his mother, that his aunts had taught him. He knew his brother couldn't understand him, and that made him cry, he was only a small boy. Lightning quickly striked about five kilometers away from him.

He shuddered, scared like a fish out of water. He would be next. He swam quick, but it was hard to move with his skinny arms against the violent poison. His head dipped under the murky poison, and he tasted it again, retching the contents of his meal before. He heard his brother yell again, he prayed to the Great Stallion, his Father's God, and his Mother's Gods', Balerion, Vhaegar, and Meraxes that he could be saved from the violent poison. He even prayed to the Drowned God.

But soon the waves swept him away from his brother, the camp, and his father. As strict as his father was, he still loved him. He loved his brother, he loved his father, he loved the bloodriders, and if he got lost from The Khalasar, then his aunts wouldn't find him and tell them stories of his mother, or old Valyria even though he knew they were fall too young to have seen Valyria.

He quickly felt his head being dunked under the water, and he didn't even struggle. He felt weak, he had swallowed too much of the poison and was feeling weak and lightheaded. His tongue was dry, and swollen, and felt too large to fit into his mouth. Black spots quickly took over his vision, and he submerged under into the field of unconsciousness.

That day, Drogo walked home as a Khal, but without his brother.

Casterly Rock,

The Imp of Casterly Rock, looked over from a telescope at the small blob of white in the sea. "What the hell is that?" He asked Maester Rhae as he took a swig of wine from his own personal wineskin.

The Imp was small, under five feet, or exactly five feet. When he had enough wine in him he was exactly four feet, but in the morning he was exactly five feet. He had platinum white hair, but since he had dirt in his hair from his encounters from last night, it was dirty blonde right now, his face was of youthfulness but wisdom beyond his years. His eyes were of different colors, and deeply contrasted one another, one was of black, the other was of Lannister green.

up and down, while the boy just laid unconsciously.

Maester Rhae glanced at his young lord, and friend of many years. The Maester looked young, even though he was at thirty summers, he looked almost as old as his dwarf friend who was three and twenty summers. His hair was curly, and red as the first apple of the harvest, his eyes were a dark alluring blue. Back in his younger days he was the bastard of House Tully, now he was a renowned Maester of House Lannister. Around his chain was Silver, Valyrian Steel, Electrum, Pale Steel, and Iron.

"I don't know my lord." Tyrion took another swig from his wineskin. "Aye. Do you want to check, little Rhae." Rhae smirked, he was anything but little, he was exactly six feet. "Your Lord Father, will be mad, my lord if you get injured. We can't possibly injure the future heir to Casterly."

"Aye? Future heir? I think if you actually got me injured Rhae, my father will proclaim you ruler of the Seven Kingdoms against that oaf of a King, my sweet sister married." Rhae smiled at his little friend's proclamation. "Only a poor Maester can dream."

Tyrion laughed, a dry laugh. "Poor?!" He said this in outrage. "You Maesters get more money, than the finest whore in Littlefinger's Brothel!" It was true, especially when they got paid by the richest lords in Westerosi to educate their sons and daughters. "Young Lords shouldn't spend so many times in brothels, enough to know how much money they get." Tyrion's cheeks tinged pink.

"Maesters should learn how to advise their lords, not dictate their lives." And after yet another swig of his wineskin, Tyrion Lannister took off running towards the docks, to see what the blob of white was. Maester Rhae chuckled and looked on the ground to see Tyrion Lannister's wineskin forgotten in the dirt. Tyrion had thousands, so he wouldn't care if one got lost. He quickly kicked the wineskin off the rock and watched it, as it splashed on the water, right by the white blob. He could see Tyrion running at the edge of the bank in his bright red and gold clothes. He quickly walked towards Tyrion, curious to see what the white blob was.

There really wasn't much excitement at Casterly Rock. Sure it was fun to see Tyrion and his Lord Father argue. There were no children at Casterly Rock, which meant he was a Maester with no one to teach, at least Tyrion stayed around.

As soon he came down to the small beach area (though where sand normally would be it was rock). Tyrion cradled a blob of white on his lap. He peered closer at it, and realized it was a small boy. He looked almost angelic. His skin pale and blue almost, dried from the salty water. His silver hair wet, and spread around like a halo. His body was small, and tiny, he could tell he was smaller than Tyrion.

"Is that….a boy?" He asked, wondering why there was a boy. "No, it's a fucking horse. I would think a maester of your caliber, would know what a boy is," Tyrion snapped. "How is his vitals."

Rhae crouched down to check the boy's pulse. "It's there but it's ragged. Get my medicine box out 0of my chambers." When Tyrion paused, "QUICKLY," he yelled. Tyrion ran as fast as his short little legs could take him.

Rhae laid the boy on the ground, and realized how much he looked like a Targaryen. Almost exactly like a younger Rhaegar Targaryen. He quickly found some dirt, and gently ran his fingers through his hair. His hair now looked a little brown but it still wasn't completely brown. He got even more dirt and threaded it through his hair. Now it looked like a rich brown color. He prayed that the boy didn't have violet eyes, for his sake and the boy's.

He quickly pushed his hands on the boys chest, pushing it up and down. If the boys had floated to Casterly Rock, then he would have had to inhaled some water in his system. He continued to pump the boy's chest hoping that he would show some movement.

Suddenly the boy spurted out a water, and continued to. He continued to, until both of them were soaked in seawater. His eyes were a pale violet, he could pass as a normal boy, barely.

"Aye. What's your name, boy?" He asked suspecting a Targaryen sounding name. The boy retched coating his already wet white tunic with throw up. "Yzavian Arturian," he breathed out, water quickly following.