Chapter 2: From the Sea

Daenerys

Hands braced evenly against the ship's railing, Daenerys gazed out across the Narrow Sea. Not since the first Dothraki horse lords rode through Essos had any of their warriors ventured across the water. Daenerys' heart clenched as she watched the remainder of her khalasar empty the contents of their stomachs. Were she able to carry that burden for them, she would and gladly. The various groans and gurgles on the deck below however was a painful reminder that no matter how hard she tried, she could not protect her people from everything. Thankfully, not all of her party were privy to the sea sickness of the horse lords. Beside her, Ser Jorah Mormont stood with steady sea legs and a relaxed posture. Daenerys was thankful to have him there. She doubted that she would have been able to witness her people become stricken with sea sickness without his helpful council.

"It will pass, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah assured her, noting her distress. Daenerys bit her lip and simply nodded.

"They are the first of the Dothraki race to cross the Narrow Sea," he observed, mirroring her earlier thoughts.

"More will follow by example," she said with only some degree of certainty. Ser Jorah smiled in return. She sounded so commanding and royal, but her own thoughts betrayed her. She did not want to make her people have to endure unnecessary pain in any shape or form. That the sea caused them to be sick did not bode well with Daenerys, especially since she intended to make it all the way to Westeros to reclaim the Iron throne.

A delighted roar from above signalled that Drogon had spotted an object of interest. Daenerys grinned as she watched her largest dragon pinball into a dive beneath the waves, rising moments later with a large silver fish clenched in his claws. Not content with the wriggling prey, Drogon tossed it into the air and shot a fiery blast of red flame to cook the flesh. He playfully caught the cooked fish mid-air before devouring it quickly. Her other two dargons, Rhaegal and Viserion, were less tempted by the fish and were happier chasing each other through the sea mist that arose from the waves lapping at the boat. Occasionally their antics would send them tumbling into the side of the boat, causing it to rock rather rapidly in the ocean swell. A particularly rough shove from Viserion sent Rhaegal and the boat lurching to one side, resulting in several moans of discomfort from the Dothraki. Daenerys glared at Viserion who had the decency to look ashamed as he huffed apologetically. Shaking her head, Daenerys pointed to the base of the mast, signalling for her dragons to settle on the deck. Drogon herded Rhaegal and Viserion onto the mast where their claws found purchase on the rough wood. Drogon perched himself at the top, with his tail wrapped leisurely around the pole, looking to Daenerys for approval.

Daenerys' gaze shifted momentarily from her dragons to something that glinted off of the sun in the distance. Her eyes tracked the object as it fell through the air and spiralled into the waves below. She squinted, trying to make out its exact shape once it connected with the surface of the water.

"Jorah," she said uncertainly.

"I see it Khaleesi," Ser Jorah said, using her formal title and resting a hand on her shoulder as he too had noticed the unusual gleam. "It's probably a piece off a broken ship."

Realising that he had missed the objects' unusual descent from the sky, Daenerys turned to the wheel of the ship, intent on sailing towards the object and determining its exact origin. What in Westeros would fall from the sky, save her dragons?

...

Loki

The turbulent waves dunked Loki under the surface again as he gnashed his teeth in irritation. Angling his body into a more streamline position to control his movements in the water, he breached the surface again and searched around wildly for land. This he had not anticipated. Through all his planning, Loki had failed to consider the possibility of where he might make berth in Hygard. Unfortunately, at this point in time, his sceptre was less than useless, only serving to weigh him down as he attempted to stay afloat. It was a miracle he had managed to hold onto it when he landed face first into the damned ocean! Worse still, without his mystical strength, he could feel the sceptre's weight now more than ever. If he wasn't careful, he would have to leave it or risk sinking. He was a god for goodness sake! He should not have to deal with the tribulations of filthy sea water which he was struggling to keep out of his lungs. Within minutes, Loki could feel himself tiring as he hefted the sceptre whilst attempting to swim. He sputtered as he realised the complete absurdity of the situation. Surely he couldn't drown. With some difficulty he tied the sceptre to the sash at his waist although he wasn't sure if this was better or not. He had no idea how he would accomplish his goals without it. Moving his limbs in shaky strokes, he froze momentarily as he saw the recognisable shape of a ship not too far off. Short of shouting with joy, Loki realised with increasing anticipation that if he concentrated his efforts on not losing his sceptre, he would not have to part with it at all provided he could get aboard.

The ship continued its path towards him and he raised his sceptre with the intent of lodging it deep into the wood of the hull for purchase. As the ship neared however, the waves off its base rushed towards him and sent him tumbling under the surface again. Thrashing his arms in irritation, Loki swam for the top only to have his head connect harshly with the top of his sceptre. His head thrummed in hot pain and his vision became foggy. Loki thought he felt something light and rough graze his arm as he floated dazed in the water. His grip became light around the sceptre and all he could think was how he was glad he had thought to tie it to his waist before he faded into darkness.

...

Daenerys

"Haul it aboard!" Daenerys commanded, rushing down the steps towards her men as they dragged the creature up the side of the ship.

"Keep back, Khaleesi!" Garakh, one of her Khalasar brothers implored her in the Dothraki tongue. She ignored him and attempted to dodge Ser Jorah as he stepped into her path.

"Wait, Khaleesi," Jorah tried to persuade her but she had already glimpsed the object of interest. What she saw made her stop short as she stared at the mess that fell onto the floor of the ship. Now she understood the reason for caution.

"Is he alive?" she asked quietly, staring at the pale, drenched man before her. Her eyes widened slightly as she realised he was dressed in a warrior's gear and was armed. Well, sort of. Had he really been hefting that thing through the water?

"He's breathing," Jorah responded to her question. "Although gods know how."

Her dragons hissed and growled from the mast, wanting to understand the odd commotion on the deck but Daenerys could not take her eyes from the deathly still form before her. She noticed the slight rise and fall of his chest which indicated that he was alive as Jorah had said, although undoubtedly weak and sick. His features were quite easy to make out as his face was rather refined. He was handsome in an unconventional sort of way, perhaps a bit pale. Oddly enough his midnight locks contrasted nicely off his white skin which she also noticed was quite free of injuries. This seemed odd given the circumstances they had found him. He was not even sun burned. She frowned as she contemplated where he had come from. This was not what she had seen falling earlier. Men did not come from the sky. Her eyes settled on the spear which seemed just as unlikely however she could think of no other explanation. Perhaps this man had also seen it and had made his way over to it. She scanned the ocean around her but could see no other ship. How in the world had he ended up here?

A soft groan below had her kneeling before the man as Ser Jorah and the Dothraki muttered their disapproval. It was not uncommon for them to become defensive of her safety whenever there was an armed stranger in her presence. Still there was little he could do in his current state. The man gave a gargling hiss before coughing up a mouthful of water onto the deck. He tried to open his eyes but evidently found it too bright or too painful and quickly shut them. He raised a hand blindly before letting it fall back to the floor with a painful gurgling sound as he choked on some more water. Daenerys smoothed his damp hair away from his face as he leaned to the side and vomited up the sea. Gasping for breath he at last managed to open his eyes and he stared at Daenerys through some black strands of hair that fell across his face. She tried to smile reassuringly at him but he closed his eyes again before she could say anything of comfort. He tried to mumble something but fell into a coughing fit again as she withdrew her hand.

"What's that?" she asked gently. More coughing, and some croaked but indistinguishable dialogue were all that came out. Daenerys thought she heard the words "mewling quims" but considered it an odd thing to say, especially to someone who had just saved his life.

"I don't know if you can hear me all that well but I promise you that no harm will come to you here. It's alright. We'll help you," she said with absolute conviction. He groaned again and she placed her hand on his chest. He shuddered under her touch. "It's alright," she said again, hoping to sooth him. "Get some rest."

Daenerys had no idea where he had come from, but she knew that there was something distinctly unique and almost ethereal about him. At the same time, she realised he could also be dangerous. Ser Jorah helped lift the man from the floor to carry him below deck as Daenerys slowly stood from her crouch. Whoever he was, Daenerys couldn't help but feel a slight sense of excitement and foreboding for what would come when he finally awoke.