Okay, here's another chapter of The Stranger's Fire, and finally Eragon and Daenerys are going to meet! Not a nice first meeting, but it's to be expected based on the situation. Eragon also uses his magic more in this chapter than before, and you can expect this to be true in Essos as I think of Essos as havingmagic, even if it's nothing compared to Eragon's magic, unlike Westeros.

Oh, and I've had a couple of people ask what the pairing will be. I'd kind of assumed that I was largely going to leave it without a pairing, since Eragon loved Arya (His Arya, I mean) so much. If I get a lot of support for having a pairing, though, I could easily be swayed to change my mind. So what do you think? Oh, and if you do make a suggestion, feel free to include who you'd like him to be with (bearing in mind that if Eragon is paired with someone it will be a female).

Translations of the magic used are, as always, in the endnote. Oh, and I own nothing.

I hope you enjoy the chapter!

-()()()-

Eragon was sat, leant against a tree stump, on a crag overlooking the city of Qarth. The "greatest city that is, was or ever will be" certainly was an impressive sight. The walls were massive; tall and thicker than even those of King's Landing and had sentries on the top, wandering back and forth and looking for any incoming threats. He wondered why they had not come to investigate the just-dead fire; the embers of which still glowed red.

Perhaps they would not attack what seemed to be a single man in the campsite; dismissing the threat would be sensible in most cases, and Eragon had done nothing at all to imply he posed a danger greater than the average man. Nor did he intend to do anything to change this status in the future, either. That was not what he wished to achieve through coming here, though he could not say for sure what his goal was. Sure, he wanted to talk to the Mother of Dragons, but what did he wish to know of her?

The type of queen she would be? Did he want to support her? There was a chance that she would be the best for the realm as a whole, so it would be good to know as much about her as he could. Did she command the strength that she would need to take the Iron Throne? Would she be a good ruler, or just a conqueror? The realm did not need any more Roberts. How did she feel about magic, since Eragon may well be forced to use it in the future as he worked with her? And, most importantly, how did she feel about the Starks? Eragon would not allow her to hurt the people that he cared for; he cared more about them than anyone he had met in this world and, excluding Saphira, arguably more than anyone in his old world.

He supposed that his primary goal was quite simple; he missed dragons, and there were dragons, or something with the same name, in Qarth. Eragon would see the so-called dragons, and he would attempt to speak to them. After that, he didn't mind what happened all that much at the moment.

Brisingr rested against Eragon's knee, which was bent upwards, and pulled towards his torso, with the other leg crossed underneath it to provide some semblance of comfort, as he waited for daybreak. There was the possibility that there would be a group sent out to investigate him, and so the Rider-without-a-dragon remained conscious and cautious. Every half-hour, Eragon would perform the first and second levels of Rimgar to make sure he kept alert, and that the not-dreams would not begin dancing before his eyes.

Eragon resisted the temptation to stretch out his mind as he sat. It was reflex to do so, if only to check the immediate vicinity, but he was certain that there would be sorcerers in the City, and he did not know how sensitive they were to the mind-magic that he was so well versed in.

Unfortunately, that meant that when his ears caught a whisper of activity from the city from his distance away, he could not find out the source of the commotion the easy way. He would have to be patient, and find out in the morning. Eragon was fairly certain they would allow him entrance; if not, he would have to climb one of the walls. A daunting task, but cutting a chunk away would not work here, as it had in King's Landing, as the guards were far more devoted to watching the walls with the constant threat of Dothrak than the Goldcloaks tended to be.

-()()-

A single figure, the next day, sat in the middle of a stretch of dirt with a scowl on his face.

Eragon would understand if they refused him entry. He would not be happy about it, but they had every right to deny him the chance to enter their city; he was a stranger and they had to think of their people's safety. He might defy their choice, but he would not hold it against the 13 that were rumoured to be in charge of such matters.

But this? This pissed him off.

Not one of them had sent word to him, let alone come to speak with him themselves, before closing the doors on the Rider. They had not sent an envoy. They had not sent a guard. No message at all, despite the fact that he was waiting patiently.

By this point, Eragon had grown tired of standing, and was sat cross-legged a hundred feet from the gate waiting for something to happen. Hell, at this point he would settle for a barrage of arrows being sent at him; at least it would tell him that they'd made a decision.

Silence on the matter was just plain rude. Eragon was not used to dealing with rudeness, and so had decided to take matters into his own hands.

The Rider removed the sturdy leather glove from his hand as he walked towards the massive gate; he would be ready to repel arrows with magic if he was unable to dodge them, and his eyes flickered across the top of the wall every fifteen seconds. Being caught off guard was a bad idea, particularly if they had magicals suited to combat inside the massive walls. Eragon was confident he'd be stronger than them, but their methods of fighting may be different to anything he had dealt with before.

Nothing happened as he neared the imposing walls, and Eragon's anger was replaced by unease. Never had he not been warned against attempting to breach a gate in a situation like this. Of course, they did not know that he had the power to tear the gate off its hinges with a word, but surely they would err on the side of caution. Perhaps there was something happening inside? A rebellion of some sort.

The sun was at its peak as Eragon debated the matter, and finally settled on practising his own policy of caution. He had overpowered dragons before in mental battles, solely due to his expertise in the art; expertise that he could recall even now after millennia perfecting his ability, and it would be foolish to choose going against an unknown threat that almost certainly knew he was here, instead of reach out with his mind to prepare himself for what was to come and alert anyone adept in the mind magics of his presence. If he had to, he could shut them down in a moment before they could alert their fellows. They would be more focused on finding the invisible enemy in their midsts than finding Eragon.

He need not have worried.

The sorcerers of Qarth, evidently, were of a different stock to Eragon. They seemed to have some connection to each others' minds, but Eragon was subtle in his touching of their minds, and the one that was near him did not even notice his presence. As he examined its mind, careful to do so as no more than a whisper and preparing a mental-probe that would stab into the Warlock's mind and leave him catatonic with pain as a Plan B, Eragon began to wonder just what their magic entailed. It was not the same as his own mystic powers; it seemed to be pathetic in comparison as a matter of fact, but he sensed that it was also harder to define than his own.

Then, he realised why it was harder to define. Somewhere in the man, there was a hint at the magic that his predecessors could wield, but it was just that. A hint. Their power was great, though very strange, but even the leaders of the Warlocks could not wield anything more than a fraction of the power that Qarth's magicians of old could. Once upon a time, Eragon would not have viewed them as pathetic. Now, there was no better adjective for them.

That was a shame, and Eragon began to move his focus away from the man, back into the state that Oromis had taught him back when Eragon was human, so that he could hear everything but focus on nothing; allowing him to scan the entire area, when something stood out in the thoughts of the Warlock.

'The dragons' mother will go after her children.' The Warlock thought, and Eragon got an image of a tower situated in the centre of Qarth. The House of the Undying.

They had taken the dragons. Eragon's anger cut the Warlock's life short, as a word was hissed in his mind. The Warlock crumbled as Eragon looked at the gate in front of him. Subtlety was not an option.

If they hurt the dragons, Eragon would erase the order of the Warlocks.

He would raze them and their tower to the ground.

Eragon's eyes turned to where the hinges would sit behind the stone, and his palm glowed blue as he spoke in the ancient language.

"Jierda. Mor'amr." With a crack, the hinges shattered, and then began to inch towards Eragon. He blinked away the slight fatigue, and cut off the flow once their was a gap large enough for him to squeeze through.

Then, Brisingr was in his hand and Eragon entered the greatest city that ever was or will be for the first time. He had not bothered to visit it earlier in his life because it was inconveniently located. In another situation, he may well have been impressed. It was far more pleasant than the Westerosi Capitol, but this was a situation in which he paid little attention to the aesthetics of the situation, and searched for a glimpse of the tower he needed to find. Eragon barely had the presence of mind, in fact, to note that there was a market stall almost immediately inside the gate, and that he may need a disguise on the off chance that there was somebody from Westeros this far out that either recognised him or could give a description to someone who would. It would not do for them to learn of his magic just yet.

"Snida." Eragon hissed, and a piece of the dark red cloth was cut from the stall. He caught it, and draped it over his head. "Gath." He murmured, and several threads from the tunic he wore intertwined with those of the new fabric, and they became a single, if mismatched, item of clothing. His face was cast into shadow by the noonday sun, and so Eragon's identity was safely hidden and he was able to go about his business without anyone recognising him.

Not that there was anyone around to see his face. The street was empty for some reason, and Eragon frowned under his cowl. Maybe this had to do with the only other significant piece of information that he had gleaned from the Warlock's mind; of the killing of the thirteen. That seemed as though it would scare the regular citizens of Qarth quite seriously. It would scare him if the stability of his way of life was threatened by a coup in the government that resulted in a bunch of creepy sorcerers being in control of his life.

Well, that was convenient for Eragon, and so he scaled the building on his left; it was easy for the Rider to find footholds. When he reached the top, Eragon had a far better vantage point, and found what he was looking for. The tower of the Undead stuck out like a sore thumb, and the magic-user began bounding from rooftop to rooftop; heading for the dragons kept within.

It did not take Eragon long to reach the courtyard that surrounded the tower, and he hopped down from the wall with ease, landing with a small grunt that was just enough to draw attention from the two people he had landed only a few metres from.

"Who's that?!" One demanded. The man, looking to be middle-aged, was dressed in a Westerosi suit of armour, and Eragon's brow arched at finding him here and, from the looks of things, concerned over the safety of Daenerys Targaryen. That would probably be an interesting story, but it was not one that he was willing to hear at the moment. He did not want to fight the man, but Daenerys' ,am did not seem to have the same reservations, as a single-handed blade sat in his grip and pointed threateningly at Eragon.

Next to him, a Dothraki man had his own blade drawn, and gazed suspiciously at the intruder.

"Nobody of note." Eragon replied, and darted forwards. He could feel the odd magic that lingered on one spot of the tower's base, and assumed that there was something special about the area it was centred around.

He did not expect the world to suddenly go dark, as he collided with a stone wall, barely bringing his hands up in time to avoid having his face bounce off the stone. Eragon shook his head, to clear it of the cobwebs from being teleported into the inside of this tower. That should not have been possible without a massive exertion of energy, as Eragon understood it, but he was in a rush and, therefore, filed it away for future thought.

Eragon reached up and flicked the hood off his head; it interrupted his peripheral vision, and that was a mistake in this place. Even if he was about to increase the light, his depth perception would be off thanks to the long shadows that would be caused.

"Brisingr." He whispered, as his Gedwey Ignasia glowed. A ball of fire appeared, and hovered above Eragon's palm. With a thought, he moved it to his left hand, and it lingered a few inches above the palm, to allow him to move it as necessary. With his right hand, Eragon pulled Brisingr, the sword, from its sheath and the familiar weight reduced his unease as he reached out with his mind and found the location of the dragons. That was only so helpful, since there may well be a labyrinth of corridors behind his current position and that of the lizards. Hm, and their mother was there as well. How had he missed that? Was the magic that lingered in the tower playing with his senses?

Eragon dismissed the small amount of trepidation that came with that thought, and began to make his way towards Daenerys and her children. He was moving for a good few minutes before he heard the shriek that came from one of the dragons, and his teeth ground together in frustration. It sounded close, but Eragon had no idea how long it would take for him to reach the foursome.

He forced himself to avoid breaking through the walls between here and there. It was entirely possible that they had some kind of wards on them. The Warlocks were crafty, and Eragon was weary of anything they concocted. What if they somehow, in the past, had created a way to drain him? He also could not use Brisingr; it would take a good while to cut through even one of the walls, and there were several between him and his destination by the sounds of things.

Eragon made his way through the corridor, and may well have missed the man that was stood in shadows, had he not moved slightly and caused the shadows his fire cast to dance across the wall.

Eragon twisted, and in a moment Brisingr was pressed against the pale skin of the Warlock's neck. The man's blue lipped mouth fell open in surprise.

"Where are the dragons?" Eragon hissed at the Warlock, as he attempted to edge away from the enraged Rider. All he managed to do was open a small cut thanks to the wicked-sharp edge of Brisingr. Erago raised the fire, seemingly sitting in his palm, to rest in front of the man's face. It was hot enough for the skin to begin to crack. "Answer me, or I will show you what a true sorcerer can do." He disliked that term, but it would make his meaning as clear as possible.

"I-I am not afraid of death. I will not tell you anything. Valar Morghulis." He whispered, with a defiant edge to his gaze. Eragon pulled his hand away, and plastered a smile across his face.

"You seem to believe you have a choice." His mind-probe formed a spike, and Eragon drove it through the Warlock's meagre natural defenses. He dismissed the information he was assaulted with, and sifted through the man's recent knowledge. He soon found the path to the dragons from his current location and pulled away from the man's mind with a look of slight disgust. The man was unpleasant, and Eragon did not enjoy immersing himself in it to find the necessary facts. He raised the sapphire blade over the man, who had fallen to his knees. "Valar Dohaeris." The blade fell, and Eragon moved on.

He weaved his way through the first turn on his right, squeezing through a narrow passage, and then strode through the next passageway with Brisingr raised as he heard muffled voices coming from the dragons' cell. That suggested that at least one of the Warlocks was in there with them and, by the feel, they were further from ordinary than the other two that Eragon had met today. He wondered if that meant they still had their magic. The fire in his palm died, and he moved forwards.

Eragon stepped into the room seconds later, as he found a door, and found a strange sight to greet him. A blonde girl, the shade close enough to silver to tell him the was the Targaryen Queen, was stood with her arms stretched to ether side; connected by chains to the walls. Behind her, on a table, dragons were staring past their mother. Staring at the man that was talking.

"Welcome hone, Daenerys Stormborn." The Warlock said, as Eragon noted that he, unlike his fellows, was entirely blue. Did not have the pale skin of the others. Was he older? Had he had longer for the corruption to spread thanks to their strange drink?

"This is not my home," The girl replied. Defiant, despite the fact that she was helpless. Not intelligent, but admirable. "My home is across the narrow sea! Where my people are waiting for me."

"I am afraid they will be waiting for you for a long time." The Warlock gave a fake, sad smile. Eragon wondered why they had not noticed him yet, but the pair seemed to be focusing their attention on the other party, so he took advantage of it and sunk into the shadows. It did not seem that he wanted to hurt the girl or her dragons, so Eragon would not rush to kill him. As he walked around the edge of the room, his feet silent, Eragon frowned; the pair had gone quiet and were just having a battle of wills. He expected the man to talk more; that was his experience when it came to people with complexes such as his.

Daenerys turned to look at her dragons, and Eragon wondered whether that expression was one of concern. It did not seem as simple as that... Then, he saw that her captor had followed her line of sight, and that he abruptly began to back away. That was the opportune moment, and Eragon took advantage of it.

Daenerys Targaryen opened her mouth to speak, as she decided on the fate of the man who dared steal her chidren; to give the command to her dragons to burn their captor, and stopped. Stopped as the Warlock froze, and his head dropped. He stared at his stomach, and Daenerys blinked.

No he didn't stare at his stomach. He stared at a sapphire blade protruding from his gut. Her eyes shot to the space over his left shoulder, trying to make out more than an outline of a face, and then she was blinded. The blade burst into flames, as blue as the weapon itself, and Daenerys flinched away. Not due to fear, she could not be hurt by fire after all, but due to the shocking intensity with which it burned as the Warlock turned his face, full of fear, to look at the girl and her dragons once again.

"What..." He whispered, voice full of confusion. That was the last thing he said, as the blade was pulled free and the man fell to his knees; his breath ragged. A beautiful knife, even in her eyes, was placed under his chin and dawn across the flesh. The Warlock garbled once, and clutched at his throat desperately; tried to stop the waterfall of crimson.

"Jierda." The chains fell of her wrists, and Daenerys heard her dragons growl. "Are you okay?"

"Are you okay?" Eragon asked of the girl between him and her dragons. She looked at him, at the bloody knife and sword in his hands, and decided on an unwise course of action.

"Dracarys." She told her dragons, asking in High Valyrian for Dragonfire, and the lizards hastened to obey. They opened their maws, and sprayed fire at the man that had intervened. Eragon grunted his annoyance as they did, and said his own word of power.

"Brisingr." The spurts of fire curved away from him, and scalded the wall to his right. "Blothr." The dragons, a few seconds later, ceased. They looked as conflicted as was possible for lizards, and Daenerys was staring at him with confusion. Eragon smiled at her, holding no grudge for the attack, and spoke.

"I am a true magic-user, Daenerys Stormborn, unlike these Warlocks. If I meant you harm, I could kill you with a word. Believe me when I say that I only came here for the sake of verifying you children's existence." She did not appear to believe him entirely. "I did just save you. Or... I thought I did, I didn't realise your dragons could breath fire just yet." Eragon said.

"And why did you want to see my dragons?" She stepped in front of them protectively.

"It has been a long time since I've last laid eyes on them. I missed the sight of dragons, and yours are the only ones available." Eragon wondered how to go about this. He had heavily suggested that he's seen dragons before, but the fact that he would be able to communicate with them better even than their mother would hint at that anyway. "I suppose it was curiosity." He suggested.

"I do not trust you." Daenerys stated, not bothering to beat around the bush.

"I imagine not. They Warlocks are the closest things to me that you've dealt with, after all, and they didn't exactly give a good impression." Eragon nodded. "But I promise you that I care only for your... children's happiness." The girl did not change her view entirely at that remark, but Eragon sensed her decision to give him a chance. He had an idea that she had been hardened recently, but her attitude did not change the fact that she had virtually no allies anymore, and so was desperate for the help, almost taking the decision out of her hands. If Eragon had wanted to kill her, as an assassin most likely, he would not have saved her life as he did, and so her opinion had to change somewhat. Maybe having a true sorcerer in her army would prove a great help, assuming that he would fight with her.

"And how do you feel about me?" She asked him. She wanted to know whether he supported her claim to the throne, then, Eragon realised.

"The only fact I see as relevant at the moment is that they," He nodded at the dragons. "Would be caused pain where something... anything, happen to you. I am sure that I'll form an opinion later, but I don't know you." He shrugged.

"Oh," The girl nodded, finding the answer acceptable. "Come. We need to leave this accursed tower."

"That we do. I expect that they will know that that one is dead, after all, and that the Warlocks will be coming after us soon. I'd suggest getting out of Qarth promptly, as well." Eragon added, almost as an afterthought.

"Soon." Daenerys' temperament changed in a moment, and Eragon glanced down at the girl with surprise as they made their way into the corridors again. "First, I have to have a conversation with Xaro Xhoan Daxos."

Eragon did not know the man, but he almost felt pity for him at the anger in the last Targaryen's voice.

-()()()-

Jierda- Break

Mor'amr- Open

Snida- Cut

Gath- Unite

Brisingr- Fire

Blothr- Stop