Upon taking the Iron Throne Daenerys commissioned a special place for her dragons. Although she knew they were untameable animals at heart, who would come and go at will or on a whim, she still wanted them to have a place in King's Landing to call their own. And why not, everyone else did?
All of the city had been repaired from Arya's assault by the time she flattened a handful of unnecessary buildings. Hidden behind the keep and largely away from prying eyes, the spot got plenty of sun and was large enough to accommodate all three beasts at once. It took far longer, but she'd also ordered one of the openings into the underground caves beneath the Red Keep be widened on behalf of her dragons. Now it was not uncommon for Daenerys to find one of them flying overhead in search of dinner, while one enjoyed the summer sun, and the last slept in the shade.
Wearing only a silken robe tied around her waist to keep her nakedness hidden she approached, while a large part of her questioned her sanity. No matter how badly she willed it, she couldn't imagine any of her winged children ever allowing Arya or anyone else onto their backs. She hadn't slept for very long the night before. Each time she tried she was tortured with painful images of Arya being thrown from a dragon's back, only to be caught an instant later between strong jaws.
Daenerys hadn't been this frightened when she climbed aboard Drogo that first time. That day, scared as she was, she knew she had far less to lose. Now, she thought of Amara and more specifically Arya. If the woman she was growing to love was killed by one of her dragons, she wasn't certain she'd ever be able to recover.
It was with this in mind that she approached the dragons clutching a torch in hand. She still had plenty of time before her sunrise appointment. One by one she studied the majestic creatures. First, as always she sought out Drogon. He was awake, but grounded, watching her as his razor sharp claws scratched at the ground.
While she never claimed to understand the witch's magic, she did know it was her husband and her son, along with that scheming bitch that brought her dragons to life. Maybe it was nothing more than wishful thinking, but Daenerys always liked to believe that Drogo's soul was passed to Drogon while he burned. If that was true, she knew he'd never allow anyone but Daenerys to ride him. No matter how noble Arya's motives.
With slow steps she approached Viserion. Like the sibling he was named after, this dragon was both temperamental and wild. Missandei called him 'a free spirit' but Daenerys knew different. She knew he was channeling his namesake and that terrified her like few things could anymore. If Arya attempted to ride on his back she'd be just as likely to be thrown into the sea than permitted to cross it. So petty and so like Viserys.
With two eliminated that only left Rhaegal, who was named after the brother she never knew. Since coming to King's Landing she learned more about the man than she ever dared to hope for. Despite their father, he was said to be a kind prince to his people, a top-notch swordsman and someone willing to do what was necessary, against all odds if he truly believed it was right. Daenerys could only throw herself upon the mercy of the Gods, hoping she'd end up more like Rhaegar and less like the Mad King who sired them.
Over the past several years, in her private moments Daenerys had begun investigating Robert's Rebellion. She knew the facts, but wanted more details on the war that meant virtual extinction for all Targaryens. Book by book, page by page she found nothing unexpected until she was invited to meet with the Grand Maester, late one night.
In his chambers she found a man clinging to life only barely. He was lying on a bed that appeared too large for him and all around dusty, untouched books were stacked high. The robe he was wearing which had once fit him was no much too big, leaving him drowning in the fabric. His skin was cracked, lined with sores and not even breathing occurred without effort. She thought she'd been called to him, to console him and reassure him, out of this life and into the next, but the Maester wasn't in need of comfort.
"Rest," she whispered as she took the available chair next to the bed. "No more harm will come to you now. I'll see to it."
"V…v.." As he tried to speak to speak he was overcome with a series of frantic coughs that shook his fragile body from end to end.
After Daenerys and a servant helped him sip from a glass of water, he had much more success speaking. "Very kin... kind, but that is not why I asked you here." His last two words were separated by another coughing fit. With the aid of the servants she helped him sit up. After he cleared his lungs he sank back into the pillows. "My death comes tonight, your Grace. Before I go and face the Gods there is something I want you to know about your brother Rhaegar."
"You knew my brother?"
"I was there the day he came into the world, and I wasn't far away on the day that he left it." With a cough he tired to push on, but Daenerys made him wait, insisting he drink more water. "This house has a library filled with books on the subject of Robert's Rebellion, books I understand you've been reading, but you'd be better off burning them. They don't tell the real story."
She didn't think there was anyone in the Seven Kingdoms who wasn't aware of what started the decline of her family. Her brother kidnapped Lyanna Stark away from Robert and in the process, set in motion a war that would be their undoing. Ned Stark rushed to his best friend's side, sword in hand, to attempt to save his sister. She'd heard the tale plenty, and never with any variation.
"What do you mean?" she heard herself press.
"History is wr… written by the victors. But I was there and I can tell you Rhaegar didn't kidnap that girl. She loved him."
"Love?"
He sat up a little bit higher, propped up on a boney elbow. "Aye, your Grace. A love stronger than any I'd ever seen. Your brother intended to leave his wife to be with Lyanna."
"Which is why Robert led an army to get her back?" she guessed.
After coughing into his skeletal fingers he gave her a feeble nod. "Robert was to wed Lyanna, the date had been set. He was furious and his pride wounded, two things Robert Baratheon never handled well."
Taking one of the man's hand's carefully she guided it to her lips and kissed it softly. "Thank you Maester. This means more than you could ever know."
When she stood to leave, she stopped next to the servant who was leading his care. "Ensure he gets whatever he needs to stay comfortable for the remainder of his time."
R-C
After her encounter with the Grand Maester she'd spoken privately with Tyrion and although he had no direct knowledge, he couldn't deny that boldly whispered rumors had been making their way across Westeros for years, ones that echoed the deathbed claim.
As Daenerys slipped into the cave in search of Rhaegal, she thought of the strange embrace they were all caught up in. Her brother and Arya's aunt loved one another, before all the death? It seemed almost impossible to believe, but now she willed it to be accurate. If she were going to place Arya in danger by letting her ride a dragon, then maybe Rhaegar's feelings for her Aunt might be enough to ensure the woman Daenerys adored returned unharmed.
She found the third dragon in the recesses of the cave and rather than wake him prematurely she sat down on the ground next to him and just waited. When she began to speak aloud, she couldn't say who she was talking to exactly, or what she was trying to accomplish, but she knew if she didn't try, she'd likely come to regret it later.
"I see so much of Drogo in Drogon," she said in introduction. "He's brave, and he's strong, and so entirely fearless. Every time we fly together I know I'll be safe because I know Drogo would never allow any harm to come to me."
"Viserion," she continued with a bitter laugh, "is in many ways Viserys. He's the loudest of you three by far, sticks to the back when it comes to battle and preens like a peacock."
She placed her hand on the side of his scaled jaw. "You were named after my honorable, valiant brother. I know now that he died defending the woman he loved, attempting to protect her from a future she didn't want. Her name was Lyanna Stark. I can understand his dilemma, because like him my castle holds Starks who others might feel don't belong and yet I could never turn them away. Arya is Lyanna's niece and Amara, her daughter is now and will always be a Targaryen. I wish I could speak to my brother now, to tell him that even though it didn't happen the way he thought it would, the outcome is the same. The Starks and the Targaryens will be bound forever. Nothing and no one could separate us again.
Having reached the end of her monologue she stood. Rhaegal was the safest bet for Arya to ride. It was far from guaranteed but it was the least bad option. Looking indulgently at the creature she set her hand upon him again. "Keep her safe for me, please. I don't think I could survive losing her."
Up until that moment she assumed she'd been talking to herself. Suddenly his eyes popped open and he stared at her as if her presence was expected. Was it her imagination or did she see a flicker of understanding in those bright eyes? Only one way to find out she surmised. She headed toward the mouth of the cave, without a word or a gesture and still Rhaegal remained on her heels the whole way.
When she was once again in the yard she saw Missandei, holding a sleepy Amara. Jorah, Grey Worm and whole mess of Unsullied and Dothraki were also there. Word had spread that someone other than the Targaryen Queen intended to fly a dragon and now many wanted to witness with morbid curiosity. In addition, she noticed a formation of others who were designed to keep Amara and the other civilians safe if the test was less than successful.
Arya walked up to Daenerys, dressed in trousers and a faded brown shirt that had seen better days. "What were you doing in there?" she asked, as she tried to keep her eyes off the beast.
"Rhaegal and I were just having a little talk about how upset I'd be if she ever let anything happened to you." The limited humor slipped from her tone. "Are you sure you want to do this? We can find another way."
She lifted a hand and placed it on Daenerys's burning cheek. "I'm no coward Daenerys. I've been ready to die for a long time. In the Temple they teach us that dying is easy, but to find something worthy of dying for, that's the challenge." Her thumb traced imaginary pictures along Daenerys's cheekbone. "We're taught to believe that its through service to the Many Faced God that humble Faceless Men find something worthy of dying for."
"Do you believe that?" she asked in a whisper.
"Maybe once I did, but today I believe in more. For years it was the House and their teachings that kept me alive. They taught me to harness my hate and hone my craft. At one point in my life, that had been enough, but things changed." Looking over Daenerys's shoulder she waved to their girl. "After Amara, I knew I wasn't theirs anymore, or at least not completely." Ducking her head, she kissed Daenerys in the center of the forehead. "Now, thanks to you even less of me belongs to them. They can have my soul, just as I vowed when they marked me, but the rest, the rest belongs to you and Amara."
Daenerys's vision was blurred by the tears she couldn't get a handle on. That had to be one of the most strangely flattering things she'd ever heard. "I don't want you to get hurt," she said as she swiped under her eyes.
"Neither do I," she agreed. "After so many years of nothing, I now have so much more. I don't want to throw that away, or waste it, but danger is coming Daenerys, I can feel it in my bones and its coming for all of us. I will do whatever I can to prevent that, even if it means endangering myself."
With no fresh tears on her face Daenerys squared her shoulders and straightened her back. She could do this. She was a Queen. She was a Targaryen and this was to protect Amara. She couldn't imagine a finer cause. "Let's begin then. Arya Stark, this is Rhaegal."
R-C
She was wary but determined as she took her first step toward the humungous lizard. Although she'd been told the dragons never harmed their mother, she couldn't resist angling her body protectively around the smaller woman. If Daenerys noticed, she didn't comment.
She expected a challenge for dominance when she was close enough but rather than lift up to a more intimidating figure Rhaegal remained flat on his belly. She spared a glance to Daenerys, who only smiled in response. Once she was close enough, she felt the coarse scales of the beast's neck and still even the Northerner's cool touch couldn't illicit a response. The one big eye she could see from her position never left her, following every shift and every step in turn, but beyond that it was as if Rhaegal was pinned under a great weight none of the others could see.
"What does this mean?" she asked.
Daenerys took a few hurried steps forward. "I think he likes you."
"Did you do this for me?"
She shrugged innocently. "Like I said, Rhaegal and I were just having a little talk about things. I think we came to an understanding."
With a bag of her belongings slung over her shoulder and a sword hanging from her hip she prepared to climb aboard a dragon for the first time. Just as she was about to begin her climb upward a firm grip on her bicep held her down. The heat that had her blood all but bubbling in her veins left little question about who's hand it was.
Aware Daenerys didn't particularly like this strategy, she readied herself for anger or even disappointment, but instead she saw the most beautiful woman smiling back at her as if they didn't have a care in the world between them. "Don't die. I know why you're doing this, and I understand but Amara and I need you here too so don't you dare die on us Arya Stark."
"Valar…"
Lips and a very energetic tongue pushed what she intended to say right back into her mouth. When the kiss was over Daenerys shook her head. "Yes, yes, I know, all men must die but that prayer of yours doesn't say anything about when, does it?"
A wry smirk settled on her lips. "It does not."
"Very good, then as Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen I herby forbid you from dying today or any other day for that matter until I deem it satisfactory. Do I make myself abundantly clear?"
"Yes, your Grace."
"Good. Climb on Rhaegal and get comfortable. When you're ready, tap him on the neck three times, in between the scales and he'll take you up."
She suspected it wouldn't be quite so simple. Maybe it was for a Targaryen born to conquer the skies, but her people were of the North, and their most loyal animals remained much, much closer to the ground.
R-C
As she soared higher and higher she wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake. At such a great height she couldn't hope to survive if she was thrown. The only mercy she could hope for, if that happened would to be dead long before she hit the unforgiving ground below.
For the first few minutes she allowed the dragon to go where he pleased and then subtly began trying to shift him in one direction or the other. To her supreme surprise the creature obeyed. With the slightest pressure he'd turn and continue turning until she straightened him out. It was perfect. Once she had the basics in hand, she urged the beast faster, propelling them to the Titan City.
R-C
With every nerve in her body alive with excitement, terror and exhilaration she left Rhaegal to go find a meal while she went to whet her appetite on information.
Inside, conversations halted abruptly while she walked past as though she hadn't noticed. This wasn't uncommon for her. It had begun after she returned from giving birth to Amara. Through casual comments and snide remarks, she deciphered that the Faceless Men believed the Kindly Man had chosen his successor. While none said it outright, hints were made that it was her, the No One who had been Arya Stark. Personally, she gave the rumors no mind. If anyone had asked her she'd have explained as confidently as she could that while the Kindly Man might appear to be aging, he was still as spry and deadly as he ever was. She couldn't say for certain, but she suspected he'd still be the Head of the Order, long after they were all dead and replaced.
"Valar Dohaeris, how is your homeland?"
"Still as despicable as I remember."
"You don't approve of the changes the Targaryen makes in Westeros?" he clarified.
She shrugged, feigning indifference. "She's one woman, and nothing more. No matter how pure her intentions, those in her court scheme and backstab one another daily, other nobles vie for a bigger role in the 'Great Game'. I fear nothing will ever change that."
"True words. Rumors have begun to reach us here in Braavos. Since you were so recently there, will you come and speak with me?" He held out a wrinkled hand and she took his arm like the proper lady her mother always wanted her to be. "We can speak comfortably in my office."
She tensed for only a fraction of an instant. In all the years she'd made her home in the Temple she'd never heard of him having an office and she doubted that even if he did, that he'd ever permit one of his Faceless to see it. Darting eyes took note of two guards walking on their left, two more on the right and another bringing up the rear.
While her instincts demanded she leave and quickly, she knew she couldn't go without first trying to learn the information she'd come for. If he wouldn't speak to her until they arrived at his office, then she'd wait. Come what may.
The door to the office was barred closed and thick. Two men stationed there opened it as the Kindly Man approached. As she crossed the threshold she closed her eyes and thought of Daenerys and Amara. "I love you both," she whispered.
If this was an office, it was unlike one she'd ever seen before. There were no books, no desk, no shelves, just two weapon racks on the rear wall while the rest of the room remained open. When she looked down she saw a metal grate lying across the center of the floor. Upon closer inspection, she could see the stones beneath the grate were farther apart than the rest, intentionally so. The room was also subtly sloped down toward the center. There was only one purpose she knew to construct a room in such a way.
"Did you say something?" he asked from deeper in the room. The door closed as soon as she was through it and she listened to the sounds of it being secured again. None of the people who had shadowed her to the office joined her inside, but that didn't mean they were alone. She could feel them there, like the edges of a dream, barely existing until they were called forward to serve.
"I was just going to ask if you'd heard news of Kayce. When I gave Marino the Gift, he told me of a visitor arriving who intended to purchase Lord Kenning an army."
He gave her a grandfatherly smile, that she didn't for a moment believe. "I knew you could do it. You've come a long way. You're one of our finest achievements." There was a pause before he continued on, "Oh and yes, we know all about that. In fact, we aided in arranging transportation for Lord Kenning's guest."
"Who is it? Who is bringing chests of gold across the sea for Kenning and why?"
The man laughed, as though he had just heard the funniest of all jokes. He gripped his belly through his two-toned robe. "You still don't see it, do you?" he asked rhetorically. "Viserys Targaryen feels he has waited long enough to claim his birthright."
She hadn't given much thought as to what she might hear, but even if she had, she never would have guessed correct. "Viserys Targaryen, Daenerys's brother, is he not dead?"
The man folded his hands in front of him while remaining perfectly erect. "For many years we believed he'd perished after he fled the Dothraki horde but then nearly two years ago now, one of our number happened upon him in Lys. He'd squandered his money, had no allies and was begging or stealing nightly to eat. He was sleeping on a straw mattress on the floor in a filthy room. Hardly proper conditions for royalty, wouldn't you say?"
She didn't think about responding, because she knew he had far more to say, and rather than interrupt, she wanted to hear it, every last word. With her angry eyes she urged him on and he didn't disappoint. "That Faceless Man returned him here and after seeing he was properly fed and cared for we struck a bargain."
"The Faceless Men took an oath to protect Daenerys. Why would you break that oath now, for her brother of all people?" she asked with contempt spilling from every word.
His amused expression grew more so. "I broke no oath. I swore we'd never take a contract on the life of Daenerys Stormborn and I have not. Her brother doesn't wish to kill her, in fact he wants her to rule at his side."
Swallowing down the bile that burned the back of her throat, she struggled not to picture it. It took all her control to keep her voice even. "I understand what the Targaryen gets, a throne, a chance to stick it to his sister, get some revenge, we can all understand that, but what about you? What is in this for you? What do you get from manipulating things so secretly? Or is that it, you want to play the puppet master?"
"You really are stupid," he responded, showing the first crack to his friendly façade. "After all these years you still don't see it. Only one thing motivates these types of people, coin and lots of it. Or did you think Cersei Lannister had another motive to want your family dead? She wanted to keep the crown close, and by extension, the royal treasury.
She scoffed, spitting on the floor between them. "You did all of this for coin and I'm stupid?"
He moved until he was standing directly in her spit. "Alright, it is time for your final lesson. Pay attention. Now before I begin, understand that I enjoy peace as much as the next man but there is no denying its not nearly as profitable."
She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a wrinkled hand and just as happened since she was a girl, her voice left her. "Wars lead to grudges, and grudges are valuable. Thousands of men fighting thousands more until they're told to stop. Tell me, when else will normal men and women be angry enough to pay our obscene fees? How many people do you think came to attempt to hire us to kill Tywin Lannister or one of his kin after he arranged the murder of your brother, the Young Wolf? How many on the other side wished the Lannisters avenged after you killed them? War breeds generations of business for us, because as you can attest like no other, the hate never dies." He laughed happily. "All those who wronged your family are dead, and still you can't release it, you can't let it go. It's as much a part of you as your scarred face or your daughter."
"Careful old man," she warned. She swallowed hard as she worked not to show any weakness. From the day she learned she was pregnant she'd known it would be impossible to keep the truth hidden for long, but she had to try. What else was a parent to do? "You saved my life once," she told him honestly. "Back when I was a girl, if you hadn't agreed to train me I'd be long dead."
He laughed at her assessment. "Yes, that girl was really rather pitiful."
"Yes, she was, but I am not her any longer." She drew her sword and saw the flicker of surprise before it was gone. "You saved that girl once so allow me to return the favor. Stop talking before you say something I can not forgive."
He clapped his hands together and then reached up to push the hood back off his face. "You were never leaving this room alive. The Many Faced God invites you home. Don't struggle, it can be quick."
She gave him a grim smile. The last he'd see if she had her way. "Where is the fun in that? Will it be you then? Or are you planning on having one of the others do it, you know, the ones we've been pretending weren't listening this whole time?"
"Why not all at once!" he yelled, snapping his fingers as he called the nearby Faceless Men into action.
With her sword already out, she was prepared. She took a lunging swipe at the neck of the Old Man and would have reached him too, if it were not for another intervening to save his life. In the center of the room she danced around her enemies, dodging strikes and attempting others.
Five minutes into the madness, she was certain of two things; these men were skilled, perhaps even as skilled as her and if Viserys was truly Kenning's visitor, then she needed to get back to Daenerys as soon as possible.
R-C
Daenerys had Amara pinned under her, tickling her with both hands, up under her arms and down her squirming sides. Each roar of laughter was louder and more enthusiastic than the last. As she kept going Daenerys revelled in the sounds. She could listen to this forever.
As always happened when she felt the least bit content fate interceded. Grey Worm and another Unsullied she couldn't recognize through his helmet stood in the doorway, looking at her expectantly. "Apologies, your Grace," Grey Worm said, while his partner knelt. "A man has arrived outside the keep and he demands to see you."
She was immediately on notice. With Arya's warnings repeating in her mind she answered without climbing off of Amara. "I am not seeing visitors today. Please get this man's name and ask him to return tomorrow."
"I… I would my Queen but…"
"But what!"
"He claims its urgent and he says he is your brother?"
The game forgotten she was up off the bed and standing in front of Grey Worm as quickly as she could manage. "My brother, are you certain?"
He nodded first and then cleared his throat. "Said his name is Viserys."
Fear started in the pit of her stomach and spread out. "Is he alone?" Once Grey Worm confirmed he was Daenerys issued her orders. "Have him searched for weapons, before you let him inside. Tell him you'll bring him to the throne room, but I want him taken to the dungeons instead. Throw him in the darkest cell and bind chains to all four of his limbs as well as to his neck."
"At once," he said bringing his spear down on the hard floor.
"Tell my brother I'll be down to see him when I'm ready and not a second before."
R-C
She'd managed to cull the herd, but it hadn't come without a cost. Two of the three associates accompanying the Old Man were dead or dying, leaving only one more protector before she got to the real prize. But even as she congratulated herself on her successes, she knew she needed to hurry. Her left knee was swelling rapidly and would soon be too weak to be of any use. Likewise, she had a thick slash across the top of her left forearm, causing a river of rich blood to flow down into her fingers, making them sticky and giving off an earthy metallic scent.
Holding the injured arm tight to her side, she took a wild swing at the last Faceless Man. She knew it would fail, but in doing so, she'd leave her entire right side open to him. Since he'd undergone the same training she had, she knew this would be something impossible for him to overlook. Holding a short, bloody dagger in each hand he read her movements and grinned as he dropped down to a knee. With a wide arc he swung at the unprotected space and she didn't even try to move. As she winced in pain she let her sword to fall from her grip and just as she'd hoped this lulled him into believing he'd won.
Wobbling in a manner that was only slightly exaggerated she leaned into her enemy to keep from falling. While he attempted to push her off, she was reaching for the dagger under her clothes. A gift from Daenerys and Amara, and exactly the right tool to get her back to them. Too weak to support herself one moment, and then full of deadly purpose the next. She grasped the back of his head firmly and kicked him with her swollen leg to keep him from trying to stand. Recognition came to him just a instant before the dagger's tip pierced his eye. With a grunt of effort, she buried it to the hilt.
The sound of clapping reminded her the battle wasn't done. "Those were some of my best and you killed them all, at the same time, three against one. Bravo."
Bending down she retrieved her sword and used it as a cane to help reinforce her injured leg. "Four against one," she corrected, holding out a bloody finger to him, and the cut he now wore above his right eye. It wasn't much, but she'd managed to get close enough to strike him with an unexpected elbow. The look on his face before she had to roll away was priceless. It gave her some small amount of comfort to know that the bastard bled as she did.
"Yes, well you've made your point. Now what do you want?"
"Want?" she growled, rubbing her aching jaw and spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor. "I wanted to come here and ask questions, but you wanted to kill me." She held her arms out wide in both directions. "This was never about what I wanted."
The Kindly illusion was gone. The hate between them was palpable and neither tried to pretend otherwise. "Did you really think you could keep your secret? That you could have a child and we would never notice?"
As she passed the dead body of a man who'd bitten her to try and save his life, she kicked him again, for principle's sake. "Maybe, maybe not," she said as she looked down at the dead. "Or maybe I just didn't think that it was any of your fucking business."
"Everything is our business," he screamed, forcing her eyes up. "We see all, we hear all! We guide dynasties with an invisible hand, not like those putrid cunts over at the Iron Bank, but really. It is us who hold domain over life and death. Us and no other."
As she limped toward him his anger faded and again he smiled that fake smile of his. "Do you really think you can kill me in your current state? Kneel and ask forgiveness and maybe I'll be merciful."
Kneel before him. That wouldn't happen, she was certain, but before she could evaluate her options further the temple shook, causing both she and the Old Man to fall on opposite sides of the room.
"What the hells?"
She knew what it was and she whistled loudly, hoping he'd hear her. The room had no windows and only one door but that didn't matter. Before the Old Man was back on his feet Rhaegal was using brute force to push his head through the side of the building, announcing his presence in dramatic fashion.
"A dragon?!" he muttered in disbelief as he struggled to rise.
She couldn't let the opportunity to ridicule him pass unused. "You know, for a man so smart, maybe you should have asked yourself how I crossed the sea so quickly."
While he watched she climbed aboard Rhaegal. "Go then!" he screamed with a wild wave of his typically fluid arm. "Go, but know this, should you ever set foot in the Temple again, I'll kill you myself, you and your daughter!"
The rage she felt filled her with a cold calm. Her wounds were unimportant as she sat on the dragon's back. "If I ever set foot in this Temple again, you won't have a choice!"
As she talked, attempting to coax Rhaegal to fly, she was aware of the Old Man staggering to one of the racks of weapons. Not wanting to see what he had in mind, she pulled the reigns hard. She heard the first arrows hitting the dragon's scales and bouncing away harmlessly but just as Rhaegal began to gain some height, she was struck by a razor tipped arrow slicing through the muscle of her back. She collapsed forward into the dragon's thick neck. She patted it gently with the last reserves of her energy. "Home," she whispered as blood oozed from the corner of her mouth. "Home."
R-C
Author's Note: So there you have it. I know Viserys wasn't a real big surprise for most of you, but he was simply too good a villain to pass up on. I do hope that the House of Black and White' s involvement was less predictable, without being unrealistic.
A few more chapters to go. I like the little family so much I almost feel guilty for what I'm about to put them through… but enough about that. For those of you playing along at home, you now know who sent letters to Kenning telling him Daenerys was stubborn and who Claudia was sending the ravens to in Chapter Eight.
Thank you all for caring enough to read and comment. I hope you aren't disappointed.
RC