Chapter 7
Author's Notes: Okay so I've been absolutely terrible with updating. Don't kill me (cringe). School really does bite you in the ass. I've been surviving on 4-6 hours of sleep for 2 weeks now because of assignments, tests etc which have only just let up a little bit so I decided to update now before something else came up again AND as a way of making it up to everyone I'm going to add one chapter now and the next within the next 2 days (yipeee!). I hope I haven't lost any of my previous readers (please still be there to feed the writer) and if there's any new readers out there, welcome. Oh before I forget, someone asked if Ashley had children, the children she refers to are the dragons. They're like her children now since she lost the baby. Okay on with it…
Across the still blue water came the slow steady beat of drums and the soft swish of oars from the galleys. The great cog groaned in their wake, the heavy lines stretched taunt between. Balerion's sails hung limp, drooping forlorn from the masts. Yet even so, as she stood upon the forecastle watching her dragons chase each other across a cloudless blue sky, Ashley Targaryen was as happy as she could ever remember being.
The narrow sea was often stormy, and Ashley had crossed it half a hundred times as a girl, running from one Free City to the next half a step ahead of the Usurper's hired knives. She loved the sea. She liked the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of horizons bounded only by a vault of azure sky above. It made her feel small, but free as well. She liked everything that concerned the sea, the sailors and their songs and stories, the dolphins that swam along the Balerion sometimes and the flying fish she glimpsed now and then, all captured her attention. Once on a voyage to Braavos, as she'd watched the crew wrestle down a great green sail in a rising gale, she had even thought how fine it would be to be a sailor. But when she told her brother, Nicholas had twisted her hair until she cried. "You are the blood of the dragon," he had screamed at her. "A dragon, not some smelly fish."
He was a fool about that, and so much else, Ashley thought. If he had been wiser and more patient, it would be him sailing west to take the throne that was his by rights. Nicholas had been stupid and vicious, she had come to realize, yet sometimes she missed him all the same. Not the cruel weak man he had become by the end, but the brother who told her tales of the Seven Kingdoms, and talked of how much better their lives would be once he claimed his crown.
The captain appeared at her elbow. "Would that this Balerion could soar as her namesake did, Your Grace," he said in bastard Valyrian heavily flavored with accents of Pentos. "Then we should not need to row, nor tow, nor pray for wind."
"Just so, Captain," she answered with a smile, pleased to have won the man over. Captain Groleo was an old Pentoshi like his master, Illyrio Mopatis, and he had been nervous as a maiden about carrying three dragons on his ship. Half a hundred buckets of sea water still hung from the gunwales, in case of fires. At first Groleo had wanted the dragons caged and Ashley had consented to put his fears at ease, but their misery was so palpable that's she soon changed her mind and insisted they be freed.
Even Captain Groleo was glad of that, now. There had been one small fire, easily extinguished; against that, Balerion suddenly seemed to have far fewer rats than she'd had before, when she sailed under the name Saduleon. And her crew, once as fearful as they were curious, had begun to take a furious pride in "their" dragons. Every man of them, from captain to cook's boy, loved to watch the three fly…though none so much as Ashley. They are my children, she told herself, and if the maegi spoke truly, they are the only children I am ever likely to have.
Ashley glanced to her left. A eunuch was climbing through the hold, nimble for all his size. She had now been joined by Ser Jorah and Arstan Whitebeard, a squire of Strong Belwas the eunuch, who had saved her from a manticore previously. "Strong Belwas is hungry," the eunuch shouted. "Whitebeard! You will bring food for Strong Belwas!"
"You may go," Ashley told the squire. He bowed and moved off to tend to the needs of the man he served.
Ser Jorah watched with a frown on his blunt honest face. Mormont was big and burly, strong jawed with thick shoulders. Not a handsome man by any means, but as true a friend as Ashley had ever known. "You will be wise to take that old man's words well salted," he told her when Whitebeard was out of earshot.
"A queen must listen to all Ser Jorah," she reminded him. "The highborn and the low, the strong and the weak. One voice may speak falsely, but in many there is always truth to be found."
"Hear my voice then, Your Grace," the exile said. "This Arstan Whitebeard is playing you false. He is too old to be a squire, and too well spoken to be serving that oaf of a eunuch."
"I have heard your words Ser Jorah," Ashley replied quietly. "I have made my decision regarding Whitebeard and until proven otherwise, he is to be trusted."
"Yes, Your Grace," Ser Jorah answered tersely. He bowed to Ashley and took his leave.
Ashley sighed and took to watching her dragons in the sky. Viserion's creamy scales flashed in the sunlight as he flew alongside and passed the green and bronzed Rhaegal. Drogon was flying as well but could not be seen. He'll probably lose himself again, thought Ashley. She felt rather than saw another presence watching her beloved creatures. Not wanting to scare the other away, she glanced at the person to place them, and glanced away again before they could spot her furtive looks. Her glances had shaped the person in her mind. The same girl from before now stood enjoying the sea almost as much as she was. She turned and approached the other girl, slowly as not to startle her. "They are beautiful aren't they?" she began.
Her measures to not surprise the girl did not succeed as the girl jumped at her voice. The blond, once recognizing what had startled her, quickly bowed and kept her body low. "Your Grace," she uttered quietly in the Common tongue.
"Stand please. I came to talk nothing more," Ashley stated as the girl slowly rose from her position. "Now, give me an honest opinion on them," she asked again as she gestured to the dragons in the sky.
"They are, Khaleesi." Spencer answered, still keeping her posture tense and hunched in deference.
"Don't be afraid. As I said, I just want to talk. There are not many girls my age on this ship or in the khal. Besides, you speak the Common tongue as well, another reason for me to speak to you." Ashley said. Aside from my inexplicable attraction towards you, Ashley mused. "Has Ser Jorah been treating you well? He does not seem the man who would know how to look after a girl."
"Ser Mormont has been gracious to me Khaleesi. But he treats me no different from his other handmaids," Spencer responded.
Ashley remained silent. She needed to find a way to assure the other girl that she could be comfortable around her. She was the Khaleesi so must were fearful or quiet around her but she would reach this girl, she had to. They continued to watch the sky and feel the breeze pick up again. The sailors greeted the wind with shouts of excitement as it meant their toil could end. Ashley noticed that Spencer had made to go. "This is the second time we have spoken and yet I still do not know your name."
"I…I had thought that Ser Mormont would have told you by now," Spencer stuttered out.
"No he has not because I did not ask him. I would rather know from you," Ashley responded with a smile.
"Lysa, Khaleesi. Lysa Petyr," Spencer stated.
"Lysa," Ashley said as she felt the name on her tongue. "Well Lysa I should probably let you return to your chores before Ser Jorah comes to find you. Come to my cabin later. I have not heard anything from Pentos or the Seven Kingdoms from another's perspective. One who isn't a soldier I mean."
"Yes, Khaleesi. Thank you." Spencer answered. She bowed to Ashley and left in a hurry.
Ashley watched her leave. Lysa Petyr, she thought.
Ashley sat cross-legged on her bunk in the captain's cabin, feeding her dragons – "Even upon the sea," Groleo had said, so graciously, "queens take precedence over captains" – a sharp knock came upon the door. Irri had been sleeping at the foot of her bunk, it was too narrow for three, so Jhiqui shared the featherbed with her. The handmaid roused at the knock and went to the door. Ashley pulled up a coverlet and tucked it in under her arms. She was naked, and had not expected a caller at this hour once she assumed that Lysa had been prevented by one thing or the other. "Come," she said when she saw Ser Jorah standing outside her door, beneath a swaying lantern.
The exile knight ducked his head as he entered. "Your Grace. I am sorry to disturb your sleep."
"I was not sleeping, ser. Come and watch." She took a chunk of salted pork out of the bowl in her lap and held it up for her dragons to see. She had planned to show Lysa the dragons and let her feed them if she wished but Lysa had not appeared. She still did not know why she had been compelled to show Lysa this or even invite her to her cabin. "Drogon," Ashley said softly, "dracarys." And she tossed the pork in the air.
Drogon moved quicker than a striking cobra and flame roared from his mouth, searing the meat before it began to fall. As his sharp teeth snapped shut around it, Rhaegal's head darted close to steal the prize from his brother's jaws, but Drogon swallowed and screamed, and the smaller dragon hissed in frustration.
"Stop that Rhaegal," Ashley said in annoyance, giving his head a swat. "You had the last one. I'll give no greedy dragons." She smiled at Ser Jorah. "I won't need to char their meat over a brazier any longer."
The dragons had grown in size but Ashley could not ride them yet. Rhaegal and Viserion were the size of small dogs, Drogon only a little larger, and any dog would have out-weighed them; they were all wings, neck and tail, lighter than they looked.
"So I see. Dracarys?"
All three dragons turned at the command and Viserion let loose with a blast of pale gold flame that made Ser Jorah take a hasty step backward. Ashley giggled. "Be careful with that word, ser, or they're likely to singe your beard off. It means 'dragonfire' in High Valyrian. I wanted to choose a command that no one was likely to utter by chance."
Mormont nodded. "Your Grace," he said, "I wonder if I might have a few private words?"
"Off course. Irri, leave us for a bit." She put a hand on Jhiqui's bare shoulder and shook the other handmaid awake. "You as well, sweetling. Ser Jorah needs to talk to me."
"I have a plan to put to you, Your Grace." Ser Jorah stated as he sat on the bed where Ashley had beckoned him to sit.
"What plan? Tell me."
"Illyrio wants you to return to Pentos, under his roof. Let us see how loyal Illyrio's men are to you. Command Groleo to change course for Slaver's Bay."
Ashley was not certain of this plan. Everything she had heard of these flesh markets were dire and frightening. Meereen and Astapor in particular. "What is there for me in Slaver's Bay?"
"An army," said Ser Jorah. "In Astapor you can buy Unsullied."
"The slaves in the spiked bronze hats?" Ashley had seen Unsullied guards in the Free Cities, posted at the gates of magisters, archons and dynasts. "Why should I want Unsullied? They don't even ride horses and most of them are unfit to be soldiers."
"The Unsullied you may have seen in Pentos and Myr were household guards thus their plumpness. To judge all Unsullied by those would be like judging all squires by Arstan Whitebeard, Your Grace. The Unsullied were the ones who chased the Dothkari from Qohor after its own had deserted her in the tale of the Three Thousand of Qohor."
There is wisdom in this, Ashley thought, but…"How am I to buy a thousand slave soldiers? All I have of value is the crown the Tourmaline Brotherhood gave me when we took their city."
"dragons will be as great a wonder in Astapor as they were in Qarth. It may be that the slavers will shower you with gifts, as the Qartheen did. If not…these ships carry more than your Dothkari and their horses. They took on trade goods at Qarth, I've been through the holds and seen for myself."
"Yes," she decided. "I'll do it!" Ashley threw back the coverlets and hopped from the bunk. "I'll see the captain at once, command him to set course Astapor." She bent over the chest, threw open the lid, and seized the first garment to hand, a pair of loose sandsilk trousers. "Hand me my medallion belt," she commanded Jorah as she pulled the sandsilk up over her hips. "And my vest -" she started to say, turning.
Ser Jorah slid his arms around her.
"Oh," was all Ashley had time to say as he pulled her close and pressed his lips down on hers. He smelled of sweat, salt and leather, and the iron studs on his jerkin dug into her naked breasts as he crushed her hard against him. One hand held her by the shoulder while the other slid down her spine to the small of her back.
Ashley was slow to react but when she realized what was happening she pulled away and slapped Ser Jorah. She was shaking and he was holding his cheek, despair on his face. "You…you should not have…" Ashley could not even calm herself enough to form a complete sentence. How did it come to this, she thought. I feel for him but as a friend nothing more. I think…I think my heart belongs to another now.
"I should not have waited so long," he finished for her. "I should have kissed you in Qarth, in Vaes Tolorru. I should have kissed you in the red waste, every night and every day. You were made to be kissed, often and well." His eyes were on her breasts.
Ashley covered them with her hands, before her nipples could betray how long it had been for her since she was pleasured. "That was not fitting. I am your queen."
"My queen," he said, "and the bravest, sweetest, and most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Ashley -"
"Your Grace!"
"Your Grace," he conceded, "the dragon has three heads, remember? You have wondered at that, ever since you heard it from the warlocks in the House of Dust. Well, here's your meaning: Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar, ridden by Aegon, Rhaenys and Visenya. The three-headed dragon of House of Targaryen – three dragons, and three riders."
"Yes," said Ashley, "but my brothers are dead."
"Rhaenys and Visenya were Aegon's wives. You have no brothers but you can take husbands. And I tell you Ashley, there is no man in all the world that will ever be half so true to you as me."
A pair of ears had heard all that was needed. The presence behind the door moved away and softly slipped into the night, missing Ashley's reply.
"That cannot be Ser Jorah. You may have given me your heart but I cannot take it. The warlocks also told me something else that day. To follow my dreams, they would guide me and give me what I most desire," Ashley stopped to compose herself. "You are not in any dream Jorah," she finished, a cold haze surrounding her now violet eyes.
Love it? Hate it? Still with me?