Sister's Keeper

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones


Chapter 7: A fresh start, but the past follows…

Alysanne's POV

I can't believe he is gone.

Viserys was officially gone, and I was free. Yes, I am a widow now, but I'm finally free from his control. My body is my own. My fate is under my control. No more will I let a man control me. No more will I be a slave. Daenerys felt the same as well. It was a sacrifice that our family name shall come to an end, but the blood of the dragon will continue onward.

The strangest thing, however, was there were no wounds on my body from the firepit. I had a nice cut across my chest, but my back, arms, and legs that came into contact with the fire were fine. A few scraps, but no severe burns. One healer believed that my clothes prevented full contact from the flames and being pulled out just the nick of time. Another thinks it was the Great Stallion saving me from protecting the khalakka. It was still strange since it took Kovarro and Ser Jorah extinguishing the flames and they were burned slightly. But something felt off, something was stirring deep inside me.

Daenerys felt the same. She told me she fell into a trance with her dragon eggs by the firepit in her hut. Something told her to put the egg on the embers. When she took the egg out, it was hot, yet she felt nothing. But Irri who took the egg out of her hand getting a burn while Daenerys's hands were fine. How is it, Daenerys and I were not harmed by the fire yet Viserys died from it.

When I dreamed again, I tried to prolong the reeling of the string. Visenya appeared noticing that I was stalling.

"Say it," Visenya said.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You need to be more specific," she replied.

"I fell into the fire and did not burn," I told her. "Yet Viserys, he died when molten gold was poured on his head."

"It's a dishonor that he is given my name," Visenya muttered.

Well, I did not expect that, I thought

Vhagar gave what sounded like a chuckle. Visenya gave him a look before sitting on a boulder.

"Aegon the Fifth did a spell trying to hatch two dragon eggs long ago. As you may know, the ritual failed causing the death of many people. When there was a tragedy in death there was also life," she said.

"Rhaegar," I whispered. My eldest brother was born during the tragedy of Summerhall. My Great Grandfather, King Aegon the fifth died perished with Prince Duncan Small, Queen Betha Blackwood, many Targaryen cousins, and Ser Duncan the tall. Father managed to get Mother while she was in labor, and deliver Rhaegar in the gardens while Summerhall was consume in flames.

Visenya nodded, "The spell that is supposed to wake the dragon eggs…one attached to Rhaegar and I can guess the second egg was female and attach to you. Then again magic is complicated. So many loopholes. Either way, you are alive and should be thankful for it. Otherwise, I would have to start over again."

"Start over again?" I asked.

"When you pull the charm and learn your fate, I shall mentor you where to go," Visenya said. "Something is coming. Something far greater than you can imagine. Your brother Rhaegar knew of it, but I fear he got obsessed about it."

"And what is that?" I asked.

"First, reel the charm, and I shall tell you of your fate." She said and looked at the line. "Then again, you still got a long way to go."

"Is there anything you can tell me?" I asked.

"Yes, learn to use a sword." She answered.

"What?"

"You need to learn to fight. Fuck the rules, you are a Targaryen and we Targaryen women can fight." She said. "Now finish reeling the line, it's time to wake up."

I sighed, not wanting to anger her and reeled the foot of string.

When I wake, I prepared for the day. I was no longer bound to follow where Viserys goes. With my brother-husband now dead, his body cremated and placed in an urn. Daenerys requested it, hoping one day we can return home and lay him to rest. Or at least at Dragonstone next to Mother. A free woman I am, but I was also a prime target. Khal Drogo, seeing how I tried to protect Daenerys from Viserys has rewarded me with his protection. As long as I stay in his khalasar, no man can harm me. Having nowhere else to go I accepted his offer. And being there for Daenerys.

The thought still lingers though. Viserys was the last pure male Targaryen, the last male heir of King Aerys the second. In other words, I am the Queen. The Exiled Queen. Unless Daenerys gives birth to a son. Honestly, I don't care anymore. Right now, it is survival. The only people who've been calling me Queen Alysanne was Doreah and Ser Jorah. I told them there was no need for formality. Not wanting to overshadow Daenerys. Most importantly, not be targeted by potential assassins. There are people who hold resemblance of Targaryens, being descendants of Old Valyria survivors from the doom. But they stop the practice of inbreeding that they either have the shades of purple eyes or silver-gold hair. Never both.

Anyway, I finished dressing when there was a knock on the post, "Queen Alysanne."

I turned around facing Ser Jorah, "No need for titles, Ser Jorah."

Ser Jorah gave a small smile, "A women of great power should stand strong."

I nodded with a sigh.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Physically, a bit sore but everything else…I am well," I answered. "It may sound terrible since I lost my brother-husband…however, I don't feel the same sorrow that most widows would feel. I did love Viserys, but nothing more than a brother. But the past five years…I can't forgive him."

Ser Jorah nodded, as he removed the rag revealing the Targaryen sword. My eyes widen for I thought it burned with Viserys's body or a bloodrider confiscating it. He handed me the blade, which I hold it dearly. It wasn't House Targaryen Valyrian sword. No, there used to be two swords, Blackfyre and Dark Sister. Blackfyre, the Sword of Aegon the Conquer was carried out through many generations until King Aegon the Fourth gave it to his illegitimate son Daemon Blackfyre. It was lost after the first Blackfyre rebellion, last seen by Bittersteel.

Meanwhile, Dark Sister vanished along with its owner Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers. Another illegitimate son of King Aegon the Unworthy. For some apparent reason, he hated his son Daeron the Second that he legitimized all his bastards and gave the family's sacred heirlooms to them. Now the sword in my hand was commission by my Father in his youth. Viserys told me the sword doesn't have a name. A sword doesn't need a name. So, it was mainly the Targaryen Sword.

"How?" I asked him.

"I managed to snatch it before they cremated Viserys body," Ser Jorah answered. "Along with this."

He handed me the ring that was in the shape of the dragon. The royal ring passed down through generation from Aegon the Conqueror to Aerys the Second. It should have gone to Rhaegar when Father died, yet it went to Viserys. Now…it goes to me unless Daenerys has a son.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"You're welcome, my queen." He said.

Unable to control myself I hugged him. This baffled the exiled knight, almost stumbling back but caught himself. Unsure what to do, he awkwardly wrapped his arm around me. After a moment, I pulled back before trying on the ring. Unfortunately, it did not fit except for my middle finger. Afraid of losing it, I decided to put it on the chain of my necklace.

"Can I ask you a favor?" I asked.

"Whatever my queen commands," he replied.

"Can you teach me how to use a sword?" I asked.

This surprised him. I know women are not meant to fight with a sword in this day in age. But if my dreams with Visenya are real, then it's best I learn how to wield a weapon. Visenya says something was coming. I don't know what she means, but it must be significant that she would advise me to prepare.

Ser Jorah thought about it, "We will have to travel far away from the Khalasar if I were to train you."

I nodded, appreciating in his support.

.o0o.

Daenerys's POV

The Khaleesi was bonding with Khal Drogo. She enjoys these moments, not having her husband put up his shield and be himself. The past few days have been overwhelming after Drogo killed Viserys with a "Crown of Gold," quite literally. Overall his action liberated her and Alysanne from their brother's cruelty. At least Drogo was considerate enough to have Viserys cremated, except it was outside of Vaes Dothrak and no ceremony. Not wanting the Dragon to be part of the Night Sky. Now the remains were in Alysanne possession, hoping one day to put Viserys to rest in Westeros.

However, there was one issue, Viserys was dead, and that breaks the arrangement both men made on armies. Alysanne hasn't addressed it to Khal Drogo about the marital alliance yet. Daenerys couldn't blame her since her sister was almost killed by her brother-husband. Cutting her chest and tossing her in the firepit. Everyone gasped in shock, even if the Dothraki believe a man has a right to beat their wife, he does not have the right to kill her. But Alysanne did receive some injuries. A nice gash on her chest, but there were no burns on her body. The Healers praised that the Great Stallion saved Alysanne for her attempt to protect the Khalakka…yet Daenerys had another theory. One she is not sure about. Either way, the Khaleesi wanted more for her family. She wanted to go home, back to Westeros.

So, sitting on a stool, she brushes and braided Drogo's long hair

"The stallion who mounts the world has no need for iron chairs," Drogo said.

"According to the prophecy…the stallion will ride to the ends of the earth," Daenerys murmured.

"The earth ends at the black sea," Drogo stated in his culture's beliefs. "No horse can cross the poison water."

"The earth does not end at the sea…there are many dirts beyond the sea. The dirt where I was born." Daenerys said, finishing the braid.

Drogo turned to face her, correcting her vocabulary. "No dirts. Lands."

"Lands, yes…" She smiled. "There are thousands of ships in the free cities. Wooden horses that fly across the sea…"

"Let's not speak no more of wooden horses and iron chairs," Drogo said, putting an end to the discussion.

"It's not a chair. It's a…" she paused trying to find the correct word. Giving up she said it common tongue, "…throne."

"Throne," Drogo repeated.

"A chair for a king to sit upon," Daenerys murmured, leaning over resting her head on his shoulder looking into his eyes with a smile. "Or…a queen."

Drogo rested his forehead on hers thinking about it. Tempting in the power the people of the west has, the symbolism of power. Still, he was a Dothraki, a Khal, he keeps to traditions, and believes his son is the ruler of Essos. So, with a groan, he turned to face his wife, resting a hand on her belly. "A king doesn't need a chair to sit upon. He only needs a horse."

He gave his Moon of his Life a kiss, which she returns before getting up and ready for the day. Daenerys sat there comprehending his words. Contemplating where to go from here. She knows that in the line of succession it was Alysanne decision to go West or not. But deep down, she wants to give her child the best things in life. A more secure rule if she were to have a son. In the end, it was Drogo and Alysanne who have the final say.

Maybe she can convince Alysanne when they go to the market. They intended to socialize more, now that Alysanne was physically better. Perhaps she can convince her sister to keep to Viserys bargain. The deal in which Khal Drogo promised to provide an army in exchange for her hand in marriage. Her sister was technically the rightful queen.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

The markets in Vaes Dothrak was alluring. All around there were exotic items from the east and merchandise from the west. Feeling free, no longer Viserys controlling what I wear is exciting. Also, it allows for bonding time with Daenerys. All afternoon we walked about with Irri and Doreah who held our purchases. Along with Rakharo and Aggo as protectors. Although, we had to spend our money cautiously. The Dothraki don't believe in currency, they contribute in trade and some stalls won't except trade items unless it's worth in gem, silver, or gold. Luckily, Daenerys was given money as a wedding gift.

Later on, we spotted Ser Jorah wandering through the streets. He seemed determined, as he looked around as if searching for someone. Daenerys came over and offered to accompany us. I told her not to pursue people since Ser Jorah might be busy, but he accepted the offered. Letting him join us, we continue to walk when Daenerys brought up the Iron Throne again.

"Dany," I sighed.

"Alysanne, you are next in line to the throne. Drogo made a deal for my marriage," Daenerys said.

"The problem is I am a woman from the Western Lands, an exile royal, and he is a Dothraki Warlord," I said. "You are talking about to different cultures debating about a contract Viserys and Magister Illyrio arranged."

Daenerys sighed and looked at Ser Jorah, "Can you help me make him understand?"

"The Dothraki do things in their own time, for their own reasons." Ser Jorah answered. "I can counsel for Alysanne to renew the arrangement. Have patience, Khaleesi. We will go home, I promise you."

"She doesn't have patience," I jest.

Daenerys sighed, "My brother was a fool, I know, but he was the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms."

Ser Jorah laughed. For some reason, I couldn't help but chuckle by his reaction. Seeing actual amusement instead of being forced or considerate.

"Have I said something funny, ser?" Daenerys asked.

"Forgive me, Khaleesi, but your ancestor Aegon the Conqueror didn't seize six of the kingdoms because they were his right. He had no right to them. He seized them because he could." Ser Jorah explained.

"And because he had dragons as his ultimate weapon," I added.

"Ah well, having a few dragons makes things easier," Ser Jorah said.

"You don't believe it," Daenerys accused.

"Have you ever seen a dragon, Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah asked. "I believe what my eyes and ears report. As for the rest…it was three hundred years ago. Who knows what really happened?"

"Clearly you haven't seen Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxis skulls," I said. "They were the closest to the Iron Throne. They were so big, you are the size of Balerion's teeth, Dany. I can only assume you were never in the Throne Room, Ser Jorah?"

"I must confess, I never have the opportunity," Ser Jorah confessed.

"Then how did you serve our father?" Daenerys asked.

"Through a chain of command," Ser Jorah answered. "I may've been a knight, but I wasn't in the Kingsguard. Now if you'll pardon me, I'll seek out the merchant captain, see if he has any letters for me."

"Well, we'll come with you," I offered.

"No, no, don't trouble yourself," Ser Jorah kindly declined. "Enjoy the market. I'll rejoin you soon enough."

Something was strange about Ser Jorah. Wasn't he an exiled knight? Why would he be receiving a message? Let alone a captain merchant in the Dothraki seas? Unless he was still communicating with Magister Illyrio about our location and current events. I wonder what the Magister will be thinking now that Viserys is dead. No doubt trying to earn my favor. Arrange some sort of marital alliance to one of his rich and powerful associates. The problem is, I have no interest in marriage at the moment. After five years in an abusive marriage, I need to find myself again.

Sighing, I wrapped my arm around Daenerys as we continue our splurge.

.o0o.

Ser Jorah's POV

The exiled knight wandered through the crowded streets in search of the captain merchant. He was indeed, in fact, retreating letters from Illyrio who kept him updated on the plans. A part of him was crossed, befriending with the Targaryen Sisters and betraying them at the same time by sending a letter to Varys of Daenerys pregnancy. Seeing the fate that Westeros had with Viserys, it better be King Robert on the Iron Throne. But after the Beggar King's death, he was still conflicted in what happened during it. Everyone was shocked that Viserys shoved Alysanne into the fire. He and Kovarro quickly pulled her out, trying to extinguish the flames, and yet not a degree burns on her.

The Dragoness continued to baffle him even more. How she freely confesses how she honestly felt about her brother-husband. Seeing what the young woman went through, he couldn't blame her. Especially when she asked him to train her how to fight. Learn how to use a sword. Luckily for her, he was a Mormont, and people of Bear Island are prepared to fight no matter the gender. Mainly to fight off a bear, but still, he considered Alysanne deserved to defend herself.

And give him a chance to spend time with her. Somewhere on the journey through the Dothraki Sea, he grew a fondness. He tried to control himself, not wanting to be betrayed again, the same with Lynesse. Scolding himself for being attracted to younger women.

Once he found the merchant, he opened the letter to see what Illyrio reported. A frown formed, reading that King Robert has promised a lordship to whoever slays Viserys, Alysanne, Daenerys, and her child. Jorah took a deep breath, as he gave the merchant his report. The merchant nodded, as the two men part ways. Many thoughts linger in his head, as he hid the letters. A wave of guilt.

"Psst, Jorah the Andal," a child's voice called out.

Jorah stopped looking around till spotting a boy hiding behind the cart. He recognized the boy as one of Varys's little bird. He came over wondering what he wanted.

"The spider sends his greetings and his congratulations," The boy said, handing him a scroll that had the seal of the King. "A royal pardon – you can go home now."

Before Ser Jorah could comprehend, the boy ran off. Astonished, he examined the scroll to indeed confirm he's been pardoned. He can return home now, be reinstated as Lord of Bear Island. The chance to revive his House name. Seeing his aunt Maege and possible cousins. Then the thought lingers to the Targaryen Sisters. Two innocent women forced on the run. They two crave for home. Now he was crossed between returning home now or stay before it's too late.

The exiled knight wanders around contemplating the decision until spotting the girls walking over to a wine cart. A Westerosi wine merchant. The man tossed the sample away and rushed to get a different kind of wine. Recalling what Magister Illyrio had written of King Robert offering lordship to whoever kills the Targaryens, seeing Alysanne hesitation…made him decide.

.o0o.

Alysanne's POV

Daenerys and I entered the Western Market. All around we see familiar items. Merchants trying their best to speak Dothraki. It is a complicated language.

"Vizetha gizikhven! Mra gora! Mra qora!" One merchant called out. Translating his words, "Red wine…I have sweet reds from Lys, Volantis and the Arbor! Tyoshi pear brandy! Andalish sour! I have them! I have them!"

"Shall we get some wines of home?" I suggested.

"Why not," Daenerys said that we chuckle.

We walked over to the stall to see what else the merchant was selling. The man smiled, jumping off a barely and approached us, "A taste for the Khaleesi? I have a sweet red from Dorne, my lady. One taste and you'll name your child after me."

He poured out a sample offering it to Daenerys since she wore the golden belt that identifies her as a Khaleesi.

"My son already has his name, but I'll try your summer wine?" Daenerys graciously replied in common tongue." Just a taste."

This surprised the merchant as he glanced between Daenerys and me, "My ladies, you are from Westeros. May I guess, House Velaryon?"

"No, but they are our distant cousins," I said. Leaving it at that.

Sadly, Doreah had to introduce us. "You have the honor of addressing Daenerys of House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the riding men and princess of the Seven Kingdoms. And her royal majesty, Queen Alysanne of House Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

"My Queen, princess," the merchant said with a bow.

"Rise," Daenerys said. "We'd still like to taste that wine."

"That? Dornish swill," he said, tossing the wine onto the ground. "Not worthy for royalty. I have a dry red from the Arbor—nectar of the Gods. Let me give you both a cask. Uh – gift." He rushed inside his caravan cart.

Something did not feel right. Dornish Wine was considered to be the most luxurious red wine in Westeros. The Arbors were second in red but exceeds high expectation in white wine. But the man was offering red. Then again, it depends on one's taste buds, if you prefer sweetness you go for the Arbor if you prefer rich in taste you go for the Dornish. Still, both wines are excellent in my opinion, depending on what you compare it to your meals. However, the man's actions appeared hesitant.

"You honor me, Ser," Daenerys said happily.

"The honor—the honor is all mine," he returns handing it to Daenerys, yet Rakharo took custody of it. He went back inside and brought in another, which Aggo took for me. "There are many in your homeland that pray for your return, your grace."

"I hope to repay for your kindness someday," Daenerys replied.

"Rakharo, Aggo," Ser Jorah appeared out of nowhere. "Put down both casks."

Both Khas obeyed setting it on another barrel.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"I have a thirst," Ser Jorah answered. "Open it."

Rakharo forced the barrel he held into the merchant's arm.

The man grew nervous, "The wine is for the Khaleesi and Queen. It's not for the likes of you,"

"Open it," Ser Jorah insisted.

The merchant paused staring at us, until setting it on a table removing the cork.

"Pour," Ser Jorah continued.

"It would be a crime to drink a wine this rich without at least giving it time to breathe," the man explained.

I scowled, "Do as he says."

"As the queen commands," he said, taking a cup and pouring a glass of Arbor red. He handed the sample to Ser Jorah who sniffed the wine, yet he too was cautious. "Sweet, isn't it? Can you smell the fruit, Ser? Taste it, my lord. Tell me that is not the finest wine that has ever touched your tongue. "

Ser Jorah glanced at Daenerys and me, before bringing the cup to his lips. Just as he was about to take a sip, he stopped himself seeing the deviant merchant stare. He pulled the glass away handing it to the man, "You first."

"Me?" the merchant asked, caught off guard. "I'm afraid I am not worthy of the vintage. Besides, it is a poor wine merchant who would drink up his own wares."

"You will drink," Daenerys ordered.

The man nodded, accepting the cup bringing it up to his lips. Only to hesitate, glancing at us until suddenly throwing it away, and grabbed a barrel; tossing it at Rakharo fleeing. Daenerys stumbled, but I caught her.

"Stop him!" Ser Jorah ordered.

Aggo and Rakharo ran after the wine merchant. Looking at the ground seeing the seeped into the grass turning the green into brown. Poison. The man tried to poison us. Keeping a secure arm on Daenerys, Ser Jorah lead the way, as he found Aggo and another Dothraki warrior restraining the merchant while Rakharo secured his whip.

I thought we were far away from King Robert's assassins. It seems like once a year there was an assassin after us. The only time they never appeared was when we lived in Braavos under Ser Willem's custody and in Pentos. Usually, it is a blade or arrow, but poison wine is a first. Another thing was how Ser Jorah knew the wine was poison?

.o0o.

In the temple of the Dosh Khaleen. The assassin was tied to a pillar terrified in what could happen. Face bloody and swollen. Not only did he try to poison us, but he attempted to poison a Khaleesi. The Great Khal Drogo's Khaleesi. Let alone, Daenerys caring the Stallion who mounts the world. My niece or nephew.

All thanks to Ser Jorah Mormont.

"How did you know the wine was poison?" I asked.

"Remember the merchant captain I'd went to see?" he replied, which we nodded. "I received a letter from Magister Illyrio. Warning us about King Robert's assassins. Seeing a Westerosi merchant dumping Dornish wine is a sin, if not giving two casks of Arbors wine willingly."

"Coincidence then," I concluded.

"Coincidence indeed," Ser Jorah agreed.

"What will they do to him?" Daenerys asked.

"When the khalasar rides, he'll be leashed to a saddle forced to run behind the horses as long as he can," Ser Jorah answered.

"And when he falls?" Daenerys asked.

Ser Jorah paused, "I saw a man last nine miles once."

"King Robert still wants us dead," Daenerys sighed.

"This poisoner was the first. He won't be the last," Ser Jorah said.

"No, he's the first poisoner, but not the first assassin," I said.

Daenerys looked at me surprised.

"When you were born, Ser Robert sent assassins before his brother Stannis arrived. While you were hidden, there've been attempts on Viserys and me, from the streets to our bedroom. The only reason we are still alive is because I have a good pair of lungs and Viserys sleeps with a knife under his pillow or a host providing guards." I told her. Lifting up my hair from the back of my neck revealing a small scar.

"I thought he'd leave us alone—now that our brother is gone," Daenerys said.

"He will never leave you two alone," Ser Jorah said. "If you ride to darkest assai, his assassins will follow you. If you sailed all the way to the Basilisk Isles, his spies would tell him. He will never abandon the hunt. You girls are Targaryens the last Targaryens. Your son, Khaleesi will have Targaryen blood with forty-thousand riders behind him."

"He will not have my son," Daenerys panic.

"He won't," I promised, wrapping my arms around her.

Ser Jorah looked at us, "He will not have either of you."

We pulled back just as the bloodriders and warriors entered the temple. Khal Drogo came, marching over to the poisoner. The man quiver in fear, face to face with the Great Khal. Drogo growled, taking a torch and tossed it in the fire pit, before walking over to Daenerys.

"Moon of my life," Khal Drogo said, expressing his worry as he cradles her face. "Are you hurt."

Daenerys took his hand shaking her head. Drogo sighed in relief and kissed the top of her head. He turned to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Sister?" he asked.

I gave a small reassuring smile that all is well. Khal Drogo nodded and went over to Ser Jorah

"Jorah the Andal, I heard what you did," Drogo said walking over to Jorah. "Choose any horse you wish, it is yours." He rests his hand on the exile knight's shoulder and gives a Dothraki hug. "I make this gift to you."

Drogo then returned to Daenerys, resting his hand on her belly, "And to my son, the stallion who will mount the world, I will also pledge a gift. I will give him the iron chair…" he pulled away walking around the fire speaking to his riders. "…that is mother's fathers sat upon. I will give him Seven Kingdoms. I Drogo, will do this. I will take my Khalasar west to where the world ends…" his riders cheered. "…and ride wooden horses across the black salt water…as no Khal has done before." The riders cheered while screaming into the poisoners face. "I will kill the men in iron suits…and tear down their stone houses." He marched around exaggerating his speech. "I will rape their women…take their children as slaves…and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak." The riders cheered. "This, I vow…I, Drogo, son of Bharbo. I swear before the Mother of Mountains…as stars look down in witness. As stars look down in witness!"

Only if she has a son, Visenya's voice whispered in my ear.

I mentally shook my head realizing the dangers we will set upon Westeros. All it took the Dothraki to finally receive their omens of war…was an assassination attempt on a Khaleesi. Only I fear the consequences the people of Westeros will encounter. I condone the acts of rape and slavery. But a part of me was upset, that I will lose my claimant before the child is even born. Perhaps, I could request to have Dragonstone. The only ancestral home where the Targaryen went before the Doom of Valyria.

By morning Drogo's Khalasar with forty-thousands warriors behind him with their Khalasar. I rode beside Ser Jorah and Daenerys on the long journey towards South for Slaver's Bay to sell their captives, in exchange of ships. Tied by rope, naked, was the poisoner, being dragged by Daenerys's horse. I knew this was wrong, but I am a dragoness surrounded by wild stallions.


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