Braavos was nothing like she remembered, which made her heart drop, surely she should at the least remember the Titan, it was impossible to miss. As a matter of fact they could already see it clearly, even from half a mile off the city gates, yet she had not a single memory from it, now she wondered if they had, truly, ever lived in Braavos. Her eyes were not the only ones draw to the imposing figure, all around them half of the people on the long line waiting to enter the city split their time keeping watch on their things and gaping at the statue. The other half, like Jorah, were those already familiar with the thing and busier watching everybody else with suspicion than losing their time with the landscape.

-There are so many people…-

Her bear grunted, eyes still everywhere but on her, even while his hands kept sure of Ned by his side.

-Braavos is one of the big hubs of the continent, like Pentos and Volantis, there it's always people coming here to try their luck, most end dead on a ditch somewhere- He gave her a quick look, obviously checking the covering he had draped all over her hair- Make sure to keep that on, anybody looking for you it's long here-

The city stank, the same salty air that had accompanied her on the journey suddenly mixed with those of a big harbor, rotten fish and human waste on the canals and blood, everywhere the metallic odor of blood permeated to the roots of the city.

The inn room where he leaves her is nice, nothing fancy but clean, a welcoming change from the rest of the city. Jorah tells her he is going to find a guide, someone who could know where her house is, but he never looks into her eyes and they both know the house isn't here. After he leaves she never tries the door, not wanting to find it locked.

Jorah watched them take her away from the end of the hall, his eyes never reaching her face and hands like claws around the bag of golden dragons.

Afterwards he wanders the city for hour's shame and self-preservation doing their long accustomed dance on his head, and his mind provided him horrible images of her potentially horrible fate. Just a girl yelled his conscience, so low have you fallen, a Targaryen murmured a more insidious part of him, one that speaks with rocks as if they were children, she is long gone, like all of them.

He is sitting on a half crumbled piece of wall when the little bird comes to him.

Once he has purpose he moves quickly, finds old contacts, a ride out of town and sells the horse then he patiently waits for the last rays of the day to make his move. Finding the ship is easy and entering even more, they mistakenly believe that anonymity is more than enough protection, well they forgot there was at least one man that did know. Knocking cold the lonely guard at her door is easy; slashing his throat while unconscious is not because he tries to think he is not that kind of man.

–You came back-

He wants to yell at her, that she shouldn't smile at him like that, that she shouldn't smile at anybody at all, that they would only betray her. But he can't, not in the face of her silly childish hope, so he gives her a curt nod and makes off with her on the shadows of the night. They don't take much time in finding the guard and the empty cabin, but by the time the yelling starts and the torches are light he has them both bundled in a long black cover and hidden on a hole of the wall.

-I knew you would come back-

That is the only thing she says before falling asleep huddled against him and the bag containing the stones, no recriminations, no yelling's just pure, and very unwise, trust. He doesn't sleep, just grip at his sword pommel all night.

Morning finds them haggard and ugly looking hiding by the port, close to an equally haggard looking boat, the yellow flags with the Barethon emblem made him nervous but the people looking for them even more so, at the very least this one's didn't know their faces.

-That's the ship, I'll go speak with the captain-He turned toward her dropping a few silver coins on her hand and pointed towards a dirty establishment drowned between a slaughterhouse and what looked like a whorehouse-Get in there, ask for hair dye in black, don't speak to anybody else and for the god's sake keep your head wrap-

-That sounds…shifty-

He laughed at her for that, really there was no need.

-This is Braavos child, being shifty it's what everybody expects-

He was right; the decrepit woman mixing herbs at the end of the dark chamber barely gave her a glance except to demand payment for the reeking bag of black powder. After he came back Jorah cut her hair with one of his knifes behind a tavern by the canals and with the same water he mixed the black powder into a dirty paste, spreading it on what remained of her white curls.

-It itches-

-That means it's working. Now keep quiet girl, the ship is from Westeros so it would be on our best's interests that they don't discover either of us. Since my accent refuses to disappear I have told the captain we are from the North, just a sellsword and his Essos born daughter, Bran and Lya.-

-No last names…-

-No, and remember that, it's important, no last names, no tittles, nothing-

The captain is a good man, one Jorah vaguely remembers, more by reputation than an actual meeting, luckily. He is also kind enough to keep his suspicions only on his eyes, while he gives the girl speculative looks, and he likes to entertain her with stories of the sea and the animals that live on it, and sometimes of animals that nobody can say with certainty that they even live.

-That is impossible. –

-Is truth as I have seen them with my own two eyes, women, half beauty half fish, that devour those fool enough to fall for their charms-

She looks at Jorah in doubt who gives her a half convinced shrug, he may have not encountered them but he is after all from the north and has seen more unbelievable things in the darkness of winter, so he is not ready to dismiss the captain, nobody really knows all the things that lurk in the deeps. Daenerys gapes and spends the day half draped over the board rails trying to catch a glimpse of a golden tail or a long strand of hair; he spends the day fretting over her falling over.

Eventually things come to head, the boat is quiet and the last rays of the sun had disappeared long ago leaving the sea a vast expanse of black when the captain approaches him, Daenerys already asleep on the small quarters they call their own. Neither of them are men's of many words so they stay in silence for a long time, watching the stars.

-I do know you, you know. From the siege of Pyke- Of course how could he forget that- I think you were the first to break in? -

-No, it was Thoros-

-Ha, yes the red priest wasn't it? With his flaming sword, I would call him a madman but….-

-But madmen usually do things like sneaking onion ships to castles under siege?-

-I was going to say it was not polite, but yes, that to-

It was easy to share a smile with the man, even when speaking of something that could cost him his neck; he didn't even want to think of what could happen to her.

-So, now what? Are you going to demand my head in the name of honor, like Ned Stark did?-

-Oh, Lord Stannis would demand your head to I am sure, but, well, I am too conscious of what it means to live with a sword hanging over your head all the time or doing whatever it takes for love for that matter- The man makes a slow arch with his arms as if asking him to appreciate the view- We are not technically in Westeros anyway. –

They stay like that for a while, just them and the sea in silence, until Jorah breaks it before disappearing under the belly of the ship.

-I don't know how it happened but, you are a good man Davos Seaworth

They reach Tyrosh the next morning.