Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, A Song of Ice and Fire belongs to G.R.R. Martin, and the Cover Picture belongs to Bethesda. I do not, nor do I pretend to own the aforementioned IPs. Anything else you recognise from anywhere else is also not mine to own.
~ Interlude in the East ~
A lot had happened to in the last year or so, Dany thought, as she led her beleaguered khalasar across the southern most lands of the Dothraki Sea. Even now, most of her people were close to dying from starvation or exposure.
Her short-lived marriage to Khal Drogo was not as horrible as she once thought. Initially, she was lonely, and unaccustomed to the constant travel on horseback. However, she was determined to embrace her new life, and once her fear of the Dothraki horse lord had waned, Dany grew to love the man who would not bed her without her consent. Gradually, her confidence and strength grew, relishing in the freedom that came with the nomadic lifestyle.
The love Dany and Drogo had for each other was soon rewarded with a child upon Dany's fourteenth nameday. Consequently, Drogo took his khalasar to Vaes Dothrak to present Dany to the dosh khaleen. There, Dany took part in a stallion heart ceremony, which led to her then unborn child being prophesised to be the Stallion Who Mounts the World. At the ceremony, Dany had declared that her child would be named Rhaego, a Dothraki variation of her brother's name.
However, with the good came the bad. Her older brother had become increasing angry upon seeing how popular she was with the Dothraki, and the lack of any progress towards invading Westeros. In one of Viserys' rages, he had attempted to strike Dany, only for Dany to push back. She was backed up by Jhogo, who snapped his whip around her brother's neck. However, this only made Viserys more and more irrational, and he ended up earning the ire of Drogo, who finally gifted Viserys his 'crown'. It wasn't a pleasant way to die, having a pot of molten gold being poured over his head.
It was soon after the death of her brother, that things took a turn for the worst. Failing in an attempt to convince her husband to invade Westeros, Dany was nearly assassinated by a wineseller. Fortunately for her, and the then unborn Rhaego, the plot was foiled thanks due in part to the suspicion of her guards. However, Drogo was incensed at angrily decided that he would invade Westeros and seize the Iron Throne for their son.
Leaving the city, Drogo reaped across the lands to as far as Lhazar, in order to harvest slaves to exchange for warships. They were moderately successful, but a rival khalasar, led by Khal Ogo, challenged Drogo. Drogo slayed Ogo himself, but took a serious wound in the process. Dany, worried for her husband, persuaded a Lhazareen maegi to dress the wound. Unfortunately, it was for naught, as the wound festered, leading to Drogo being at death's door.
For a brief moment, Dany considering utilising the skills of Mirri Maz Duur's blood magic, but was heavily persuaded by Doreah not to do so. The handmaiden had explained that blood magic was fickle, and Dany might end up sacrificing more than she was willing to, perhaps even the life of her son, in order to keep Drogo alive. The stress from the worrying over her husband's condition had led to an early labour for Dany. It was good fortune, however, that it was an easy birth, while also gave Dany a good enough reason to not sacrificing her son. It was then discovered that the poultice that the maegi used was deliberately poisoned to exacerbate Drogo's wound. Realising the vengeful intentions of the woman, Dany there and then sentenced her to die. The style of execution; burning.
The funeral pyre of her husband's included Mirri Maz Duur tied to the pile of wood. While the pyre was burning, Dany stood to the holding two dragon eggs she was gifted. Almost as if in a trance, she had walked straight into the fire, ignoring the cries of alarm from her khalasar. The following morning, Dany rose from the charred remains of the pyre naked as the day she was born and unmarked save for the marks of soot across her body. Along with her were two hatched drakes, nursing at her teats. One was a creamy white and gold, while the other a dark green and bronze. She had taken to calling them Drogon and Rhaelion respectively, after Khal Drogo and her mother, Rhaella, respectively. Both were about the size of small kittens, and Dany was worried that without enough food, the dragons might die. Drogon seemed to want to be as close to Rhaego as possible, while Rhaelion was content to rest around Dany's neck and shoulders.
"Khaleesi, what do you intend on doing, now?" her loyal knight, Ser Jorah Mormont, asked, bringing Dany out of her thoughts.
"We follow the Shierak Qiya," Dany said, gazing at the red comet that streaked across the sky.
It appeared in the sky the day immediately following the hatching of her dragons. The old men of her khalasar mumbled of it being an ill omen. However, for Dany it was a herald of her coming.
"Khaleesi. That way leads to the red wastes" Doreah cautioned. It was advice like that, which made Dany suspicious of Doreah's background. In her mind, no pleasure slave ought to be that knowledgeable, but Dany mostly accepted the advice that was freely offered.
"The way the comet points is the way we must go," Dany insisted. Though in truth, it was the only option she had.
Turning back north would put her at the mercy of the first khalasar she might come across, and her own ragged band would be swallowed up immediately. The lands directly south held people that would not so much as even consider being hospitable towards them. The Lamb Men had no reason to love Dothraki, as it were. While Slaver's Bay was an option, it did run the risk of her and her people possibly being captured, sold into slavery and her dragon's taken away from her. That was not acceptable.
"We follow the comet," the Mother of Dragons declared, and her people obeyed.
Mother of Dragons. Daenerys the Unburnt. That was what she was called now. As far as she knew, Targaryen's were not fire proof, but seeing Viserys die from the molten gold, while she was able to hold a hot dragon egg and come out of a bonfire unharmed, made her start wonder if she was something special.
However, that was all irrelevant to the current situation. At present, they were making their way through the wastes, riding by night, and taking shelter in their tents during the day. On and on they went, leaving behind a trail of dead or dying horses.
It was three days into their entrance into the wastes, that the first of Dany's subjects died; and old and toothless man. He had fallen of his horse and was unable to rise again, leading to Dany to leave the worst of her horses behind so that the man might go mounted into the night lands. Two nights after that, an infant girl passed on. Her mother was inconsolable and she wailed all day, but nothing was to be done.
Soon enough, their supplies began to wane. Wine ran out first, soon followed by the milk of the clotted mare. Flatbread and the dried meat was all eaten, and the hunters were unsuccessful in finding game. It was only the flesh of their dead horses that sustained them from the on. Eventually, more and more succumbed to death. The weak. The young. The old. All died, in the inhospitable land. Even Irri and Jhiqui took a fever, their faces gaunt and eyes hollow. Their lips and hands were covered in blood blisters, and their hair fell out in clumps. Dany despaired, as her two handmaidens slowly withered away, and passed on. By her side, stood Doreah, as Dany wept.
Yet, in spite of her losses, Dany soldiered on. Almost all of her food went to feed her son and dragons. It was only by the will of the gods that Rhaego was still alive, and that she still had her mother's milk. She thanked whatever gods were listening that her children still lived. She wasn't so sure she would be able to go on, if even one of them died.
On and on, they walked. Some began to fear that the comet was a false symbol, one that was leading them to a form of hell.
"What lies to the far east, Ser Jorah?" Dany asked, one morning.
"Many a great kingdom, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah answered, "I have not been, but I have seen maps that show the cities of Asshai, Yi Ti and Qarth. Of the three, Qarth is the closest. It is also the city we are currently heading towards, if my memory serves correctly."
"Will we even live to make it there?" Dany ask, almost in a fatalistic manner.
The knight sighed.
"I will not lie to you, Khaleesi," he wearily said, "It is a hard path. Harder than I imagined. We might be doomed if we press ahead. However, this I can say for certain; trekking back the way we came will lead us to our deaths."
Dany mustered what she hoped was a bright smile. It was all she could do to show how grateful she was for the knight's words.
After two weeks of travelling the wastes, almost a third of what remained of her Khalasar had died, but she finally had some good news, when one of her outriders came racing back.
"A city, Khaleesi!" the rider cried, "Barely an hour's ride!"
"Blood of my Blood, ride ahead, and see what welcome we might expect," Dany commanded her three bloodriders; Jhogo, Aggo and Rakharo.
"Ai, Khaleesi," they obeyed.
They were not long to return.
"The city is dead, Khaleesi," Rakharo said, "The gates are broken, none but the wind and flies move through the streets."
Behind her, Dany's subjects whispered of ill omens. Ignoring them, she commanded the khalasar to make for the ruins. How long it was deserted, she did not know. Nevertheless, she commanded the men to search for food and water. Reluctantly as they went, the men soon came back with fruit and water. Dany's people were heartened by the sight of the food and drink, and ate greedily, though there was enough to feed them all.
As Dany watched them eat, she cooked meat for her dragons and fed Rhaego milk. The dragons were still rather small, no larger than the cats she saw during her stay in Pentos. Rhaego was still a babe, barely a month old. His skin had darkened to a copper-tone, and his white-blond hair was now fairly noticeable.
Doreah then came to her tent, informing her that Ser Jorah wished to speak with her.
"Send him in," Dany commanded.
"What is your will, Khaleesi?" the knight asked.
"For now, we rest," she replied, "Fill our skins and fix whatever needs fixing. Otherwise, we stay here until I can decide further."
"As you command, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah bowed, and made to leave, only for Dany to call back to him.
"Ser Jorah, a moment," she said, "There is something that has been bothering me, so I ask that you answer my question truthfully."
"Khaleesi?" the exiled knight wore a puzzled look.
"Why do you serve me, Ser Jorah?" she asked, "You swore your allegiance to my brother. Not me."
Ser Jorah blinked in surprise, before smiling softly.
"I serve you, because you are worth serving," he explained, "You are worth following. Worth fighting for. Until I came to Pentos, I was largely without purpose in my exile."
"Then, Ser Jorah. I would name you Lord Commander of my Queensguard," Dany softly commanded.
Ser Jorah knelt, with his head bowed.
"You honour me, Khaleesi."
"It is no more than what you deserve," Dany gently smiled, "I wish to rest, Ser Jorah. Please set up a watch. I would rather we were not preyed upon."
Ser Jorah rose, bowed, and then left to do as he was commanded. Though if Dany had looked closer at the knight, instead of tending to Rhaego, she might have seen an odd gleam in Ser Jorah's eyes.
Sleep came to her easy, that night, due in part to the fact that she no longer had to stress about find a potential shelter. As she slept, she dreamt. She dreamed of Drogo and of the first time they rode together. Only, instead of horses, it was dragons they rode on, and they had Rhaego with them.
On the next morning, she gathered her bloodriders.
"Blood of my Blood, I have need of you," she told them, "Ride southeast, and follow the Shierak Qiya. Go to Qarth, and see if we are welcome there."
They went, but not without protest. It was only the solemn promise of Ser Jorah that their Khaleesi would be protected that let them leave. In their absence, Dany settled down with her small khalasar, and set them to work. They had named the place Vaes Tolorro, the city of bones in the Common Tongue. Days went by with no sight of Aggo, Jhogo or Rakharo. The men tended to the horses, and mended that which need fixing. The women gathered fruits from the gardens. Even the children found the odd bronze coin that might have been worth something.
A week had past, and Dany feared that she had sent her bloodriders to their deaths. Yet even in her fear, outwardly she was a bastion of calm. Though, fortune struck, when on the eighth day, the riders returned. But they were not alone. Behind them, rode three others atop strange beasts with humped backs.
The party of six halted at the newly rebuilt city gates, and looked up to see Dany stare down at them.
"Blood of my Blood," Jhogo called out to her, "We come from the great city of Qarth with three who would look upon you with their own eyes."
"If you wish to look, then here I stand," Dany called back, "But first...I would have the names of the three with you, Blood of my Blood."
"I am Pyat Pree, the great warlock," a pale man with blue lips introduced.
Next came a bald man with a jewel adorning his nose, "I am Xaro Xhoan Daxos, of the Thirteen, a merchant prince of Qarth."
The final rider, was a woman in a lacquered mask, "I am Quaithe of the Shadow. We come seeking dragons."
Dany frowned at the request. She had not wanted to reveal her dragons, nor her son, so early.
"Seek no further," she boldly stated, "For a dragon is before you."
A week and a half's ride later, and Dany's meagre khalasar reached the walls of Qarth. Men beat gongs to herald her arrival, while other blew strange horns that encircled their bodies like a coil. An honour guard was provided, with the riders decked in copper armour and helms.
"Qarth is the greatest city that ever was, and ever will be," the warlock boasted, "It lies at the centre of the world. The known world's most important crossroad."
"It is ancient beyond measure. So magnificent that Saathos the Wise gouged his eyes after gazing upon Qarth for the first time. He knew that all he saw thereafter would be insignificant in comparison," Xaro Xhoan Daxos added.
Dany took the boast for what it was, but couldn't deny that the city held a certain magnificence that the Free Cities to the west couldn't quite match, save for maybe Braavos. Three thick, and elaborately carved walls encircled Qarth. The outermost wall was made of red sandstone, around thirty feet in height and adorned with murals of various animals. The middle wall was forty feet high and made of granite. It bore scenes of war and battle. The innermost wall was fifty feet of black marble, though Dany had to supress a blush at the carvings of men and women giving pleasure to one another.
The gates opened in welcome, with Dany at the head of the column. Inside, Dany saw that whatever colour was robbed from Vaes Tolorro, had been granted in abundance in Qarth. Streets and buildings were decked bright colour jewels. Qartheen men, women and children lined the streets, wearing extravagant gowns, silks and linens.
The sight of such rich clothing made Dany feel self-conscious of her lionskin robe, yet she held her head high, with Rhaellion around her shoulders, Rhaego in a sling across her chest, and Drogon on her lap.
Once they reach the end of an arcade that the warlock led her little khalasar down, Dany found herself the subject of an impromptu tug-of-war.
The matter of the subject was who would play host to the 'Mother of Dragons'.
Eventually, Dany interjected in the discussion and told them that she wasn't to linger long, and simply wanted ships to take her people back to Westeros, and swords to help her reclaim the Iron Throne.
"It shall be as you command, Khaleesi," Pyat smiled.
The merchant prince glanced at the blue lipped warlock, before turning towards Dany.
"There is a saying in Qarth. A warlock's house is built of bones and lies," he warned.
"Then why do men lower their voices when they speak of the warlocks of Qarth?" Dany politely inquired.
"Oh, once upon a time. They had power, great and terrible," Xaro agreed, "However, in recent decades, their power has waned. Making them a pale husk of the warlocks of old. Do not trust his gifts, for they will turn to ash in your hands."
"There goes a crow calling the raven black," Ser Jorah murmured in the Common Tongue, from her right hand, "I would trust neither man, Khaleesi."
"They would offer me the means to reclaim my home," Dany said, adjusting the sling so that Rhaego was suitably covered from the sun.
"They would offer you to world if it thought it might get what they want," the exiled knight cautioned, "I wouldn't linger here long, Khaleesi. The smells are not to my liking."
"Perhaps it is the camels you smell? The Qartheen are sweet enough to my nose," Dany smiled.
"Nice smells would be needed to cover up the foul ones."
Dany appreciated that Ser Jorah only had her best interests at heart, but felt a little chafed under his protection. Nevertheless, Dany accepted the hospitality of Xaro Xhoan Daxos, but whatever Dany expected it wasn't a palace that made Magister Illyrio's manse look like a decrepit hovel in comparison. The place was huge in size. An entire wing was allocated for her Dothraki and the horses. She had an entire garden, bathing pool, and tower to herself. Slaves would attend to her in her private chambers.
"This is a princely gift," Dany told the merchant prince.
"No gift is too great, for the Mother of Dragons," Xaro refuted.
Dany barely noticed her eyes, but began to notice a trend where she was only referred by that title. Perhaps Ser Jorah was right, that they only cared about her dragons.
Both the warlock and the merchant took their leave, but the last of the three who initially sought her lingered.
"Beware," Quaithe warned.
"Of what?" Dany asked.
"Of all," the masked woman elaborated, "None here are your allies, Stormborn. If you stay here too long, you will not be allowed to leave. Not with your dragons."
She then made to leave, but was stopped by the Khaleesi.
"And you?" Dany questioned, "Are you my ally?"
Quaithe paused, "No."
And with that, she left, leaving behind a confused Dany, and a suspicious Ser Jorah.
"She's not wrong," the exiled grunted, "But I don't trust her."
"We will keep our own watch, then," Dany decided. She turned to her bloodriders and spoke in their native tongue, "Insure none but our own guard this wing, Aggo."
"As you command, Khaleesi," Aggo said.
"We see only what they wish us to," Dany went on, "Rakharo, go and find out more. Then return and tell me what you find. Take men with you, and have women go where men cannot."
"It shall be done, Blood of my Blood," Rakharo bowed.
"Ser Jorah. Go to the docks and find out what ships lay anchor, and where they are sailing to," Dany commanded, "It has been some time since I last heard the situation in Westeros."
"My place is with you, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah protested.
"You know more languages than my bloodriders, Ser Jorah. Not to mention the Dothraki mistrust the sea. Besides, Jhogo can protect just as fine."
Reluctantly, the knight obeyed, leaving Dany to her thoughts. Leaving her dragons to feed on some cooked meat, she took Rhaego for a walk. She came across a marble pool with golden coloured fish inside. While Dany dipped her feet in the cool water, Rhaego reached out to the fish in typical infant curiosity. She had to smile at her child's actions, though her smile was tinged with grief at memory of her husband.
Moving away from such heavy thoughts, Dany's mind wandered to how she would return home. Her khalasar barely numbed one thousand, and less than half of that were actual warriors. Had Drogo lived, she would have had a khalasar numbering in the tens of thousands, but even then she had small doubts that it would have been watched desired. Dothraki were skilled, but only in slaughter and the sacking of cities. She did not want King's Landing to be like Vaes Tolorro; a ghost city, blackened and ruined.
'I want King's Landing to be like Qarth, with the people smiling,' she idly thought.
From what she knew, the Usurper was a fat whoremonger, and a pathetic king. Aegon the Unworthy come again, Magister Illyrio once commented. Then there were the Usurper's dogs. Tywin Lannister, whose men sacked the capital, and killed her father, goodsister, niece and nephew. And Eddard Stark. She was conflicted, when it came to the Starks. One on hand, her father did kill Rickard and Brandon Stark, but on the other hand, her brother was seduced by Lyanna Stark, making him forsake his vows to his wife.
She was forcefully snapped out of her thoughts from Rhaego pulling at her hair.
"Ah, Rhaego! No!" she scolded.
Her son was starting to get fussy, which let Dany know that Rhaego was hungry.
"Doreah," she called out to her handmaiden, "Help me up."
The former pleasure slave hurried forward, and took Rhaego from Dany, allowed the latter to stand up. A nearby slave gave her a towel to dry off her feet. Taking Rhaego back from Doreah, Dany strode towards where her dragons were waiting. Sitting down, she allowed both Drogon and Rhaellion to curl around her shoulders, while she fed Rhaego. As usual, the dragons were rather curious about Rhaego, almost as if they consider him to be a sibling. It was heartening to see Dany's three children interact.
It was close to evening and Dany was lulling Rhaego to sleep, when Doreah informed her that Ser Jorah had returned, and not alone.
"Send him, and whomever he has brought with him, in," Dany said, in interest.
When they entered, she sat on a mound of cushions, with Drogon and Rhaellion beside her. The man Ser Jorah brought was clearly a Summer Islander, wearing green and yellow feather cloak.
"Khaleesi," the knight said, "This is Quhuru Mo, the captain of the Cinnamon Wind out of Tall Trees Town."
The man knelt and greeted her in a bastard dialect of Valyrian, "I am greatly honoured by your presence, Mother of Dragons."
There was that title again. Dany begun to wonder if anyone remembered her name by this point.
"The honour is mine, captain," Dany replied in the same language, "What brings you to Qarth?"
"Trade, Your Grace," the captain answered, "Though, I come before you with a particular gift."
"A gift?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Quhuru Mo confirmed, "For you see. I came from Old Town, and I bare news from Westeros."
"Oh?"
"I tell it true, Stormborn, that Robert Baratheon is dead."
"Dead?" Dany repeated, "Are you certain?"
"It is said in Oldtown, in Dorne, in Lys, and beyond," Mo said.
How ironic war is that he is dead, when she was still alive, in spite of his attempt to poison her. Perhaps this would be her chance to retake her rightful throne.
"How did he die? And who sits on the Iron Throne now?" she then asked.
"Gored by a boar when hunting in the Kingswood, or so it is said," the captain explained, "Some whisper that he was poisoned by the Queen, while others say that the Starks are traitors."
"Why would the Usurper's dog be a traitor? Does not the Crown Prince share blood with the Starks?"
"Ah, but the Crown Prince supposedly does not have Baratheon blood."
"I-What?!" Dany cried out in shock.
"It is as I say, Dargonmother. Prince Haraldr is not of the House Baratheon," Quhuru Mo went on, "The Lannisters found out, and decried him a Usurper. Then both brothers of the late Robert declared themselves King, while the North and Riverlands rallied to Lord Stark and his nephew."
"Then who is the father of Stark's nephew, if not the Usurper?" Dany asked in confusion.
"Prince Rhaegar Targaryen."
What.
"…You lie…"
"I speak the truth only, Stormborn, for rumours in Dorne speak of the Targaryen Prince having a dragon of his own."
"I…Thank you for tell me this, Captain, but I must think on what you have told me," Dany said, putting aside her shock for the moment, "Will you sail for Westeros, soon?"
"I am afraid not, Your Grace. This is a trip a make each and every year, to sail the trader's circle round the Jade Sea."
"I see," Dany said, disappointed, "I wish you fair winds and good trading, then. You have given me a most precious gift. If there is something you wish, and it is within my power, I would grant it."
"There is no need, Dragonmother. What more can a wish for, besides what I have received already?"
"What do you mean?" Dany asked, puzzled.
The captain's eyes shone with excitement, "I have seen dragons."
Dany had to laugh.
"Well. Come see me in King's Landing, when I sit on my father's throne. You will see more of them, when you do," she said.
The merchant promised he would, and was escorted out by Doreah, leaving only Ser Jorah and her children.
"Your thoughts, my knight?"
"Four kings, where there were one, Khaleesi," he replied, with a frown, "This might be the time to strike, if you had an army behind your back."
"I agree," Dany nodded, "But I was asking more about my supposed nephew."
"I do not know if it is true or false, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah replied, "I have met Prince Haraldr, on occasion. He would make an excellent King, speaking honestly."
"Better than Viserys?" Dany heatedly asked.
Ser Jorah opened his mouth uncertainly, but was prevented from speaking by a raised hand from Dany.
"No matter. This…Haraldr is nothing more than a Blackfyre come again. My brother's true heir was his son, Aegon, then Viserys. With their deaths, I am the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
"With all due respect, Khaleesi. The Great Lords will not bend the knee so easily. You will need a fleet, gold, armies, alliances-"
"All this, I already know, Ser Jorah," Dany interrupted, "I am not the scared naïve girl that you first met in Pentos. I am a Khaleesi, and the Mother of Dragons. I have their blood, and I will take back what is rightfully mine."
Several days later, and Dany was pacing in a room in the Hall of a Thousand Thrones. In seeking an audience with the Pureborn, Dany had made a traditional sacrifice in the Temple of Memory, offered the customary bribe to the Keeper of the Long List and sent the usual persimmon to the Opener of the Door. Upon receiving the blue slippers that signified that she was being granted audience, she had swiftly made to meet with the rulers of Qarth. Yet, here she was, still being made to wait.
"They shouldn't make me wait," she bitingly said, her patience wearing thin.
"The Pureborn are the descendants of Qarth's ancient kings and queens," Xaro softly said, "If they deign to meet with anyone, they do so at their convenience.
"Of course, this would not have been necessary, if you had accepted my proposal," the merchant added.
Only the previous evening, at a party that the Thirteen hosted, did Xaro Xhoan Daxos offer to marry her. While initially surprised, Dany promptly rejected the proposal, deeming that she did not need to marry again.
"I already have a husband," she said, rolling her eyes in exasperation.
"Khal Drogo is dead, Khaleesi," Xaro bluntly stated, "Your son needs a father, and you are far too young to be a widow forever."
"I do not need to be told what my son, my children, need," Dany curtly replied.
Xaro opened his mouth to speak, but was prevented from doing so by the arrival of a representative of the Pureborn, Mathos Mallarawan. He was bribed by Dany to try and sway the rest of the Pureborn to her cause. It was to Dany's hope, that he was successful.
"The Mother of Dragons," he cried out, "Forgive me, but I was in the middle of an exquisite meal when you arrived, and I could not come before finishing."
"It is no issue, my Lord," Dany smoothly waved off, a false smile on her face, "I am glad that you are willing to meet with me."
"Of course, of course," Mathos said, with a wry smile, "Now, have my servants offered something to eat? No? Not even a drink?"
"Thank you, but your servants cannot offer what I want."
Mathos' eyes narrowed, "And what is it, that you want, Little Princess?"
"My birth right," Dany revealed, "The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros."
"I fear that I am no better than a servant in this regard," Mathos remarked, "Neither I nor the remaining Pureborn can give you what we do not have."
"I am not asking you for the Kingdoms," Dany explained, "I am asking you for ships. I need to cross the Narrow Sea."
"And you have men for the ships you desire?" Mathos asked, his voice almost mocking.
"…No," Dany grudgingly admitted.
"Then you clearly wish for men from us, as well!"
"I do, yes."
"You ask for much, Daenerys Stormborn," Mathos said, after a moment's consideration, "You ask, yet you do not offering anything in return. That is not a favourable trade."
"Whatever you grant me now will be repaid beyond measure when I retake th-"
"Retake?" the noble interrupted with a frown, "Did you once sit on the Iron Throne?"
"It belongs to my ancestors. My father sat there, before he was murdered," Dany voice wavered, as she began to lose her resolve.
"If you did not sit on it yourself, would it not be correct to say 'Take the Iron Throne'?" Mathos inquired, speaking as though he was to a small child.
"I did not come here to argue grammar."
"Of course not!" Mathos agreed with a patronising smile, "You came for our ships. Our armies. You came for all this, and offer nothing for them in return, except for empty promises."
Mathos strode forward and stood before Dany.
"Let me explain my position, Princess," the noble began, "Qarth does not care for the politics of outsiders. Qarth does not care for the wars of foreigners. And Qarth most certainly does not care for the begging of a naïve young girl."
Dany was struck in to silence from the harsh words.
"The wealth of Qarth comes from its trade. As with all merchants, I base my dealings by considering the merits," Mathos went on, "You ask for ships and men. You say that we shall be repaid beyond measure. I do not doubt your honesty, or your intentions.
"But before you repay your debts, you must seize the Seven Kingdoms!" Mathos finished harshly, causing Dany to flinch.
"Let us say, hypothetically, that the Pureborn give you ships and men," Mathos proposed, "Do you have allies in Westeros, in which to aid you?"
"There are many there that support my claim!" Dany insisted.
"When you were the last?"
"…I left when I was a baby," Dany hesitantly told the noble.
"So, in truth, you have no allies," Mathos said, his voice revealing his agitation, "And I have heard the rumours of another who bears the name Targaryen, who has allies, and is winning."
"He nothing but a pretender!"
"And yet, the people support him," Mathos refuted.
"The people will rise to fight for their rightful Queen, when I return," Dany stubbornly maintained.
Mathos sighed in frustration.
"Forgive me, little Princess, but the Pureborn cannot make an investment in nothing but hopes and dreams."
"It was a dream that led to my dragons hatching!" Dany persisted, causing Mathos to pause, "Do you know Ilyrio Mopatis? A magister in Pentos?"
"By reputation," Mathos admitted.
"For my wedding, he gifted me two dragon eggs. Eggs that many believed long since petrified," Dany began, "The world believed that the ages had turned them to stone. But I dreamt of them hatching! My own people thought I was mad for walking into a fire willingly! And yet, I came out unharmed and with dragons!"
The member of the Pureborn remained silent, but had a slight smile on his lips.
"Do you understand?" Dany continued, "I am no ordinary woman. My dreams come true."
After a brief second of silence, Mathos spoke.
"I admire your passion," he said, honestly, "But in business I trust in logic, not passion. I am sorry little Princess."
He walked away towards the doors from whence he came, as Dany called out to him.
"I am not your anything!" she snarled, "I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen. I will take back what is mine, in Fire and Blood!"
"If you say so, my Lady," Mathos calmly said over his shoulder, "But you will not have Qarth's aid in doing so."
Dany stood there, her chest heaving, as the doors closed with a resounding thud. Her last gambit to fulfil her dream had failed.
"Come, Princess," Xaro beckoned, "We must leave now."
Silently, Dany left the Hall, and towards the where Xaro's palanquin was resting. She remained silent all throughout the ride back to Xaro's palace, and did not speak until they returned.
"I thought you said we could trust him," she eventually said.
"If you would properly recollect what I told you, I said that we could trust Mathos Malarawan enough to meet with him," Xaro corrected, "I did not say he would give what you wanted."
Dany let out an unladylike snort.
"Of course," she scoffed, "The Thirteen will not help me. The Tourmaline Brotherhood will not even hear my plea. The leader of the Spice Guild will grant me a ship, but only if I lay with him, for the night."
"Things worth having, don't come easy, Khaleesi," Xaro said.
"Spare me," Dany dismissed.
"If only you would consent to marry me," Xaro sighed
Dany ignored the merchant, instead considering her remaining options.
"Would the Undying Ones assist me?" Dany then asked.
Xaro hummed in thought.
"They might," he admitted, "I would not go to them."
"Why not?" Dany was curious now.
"Hm. How best to put this,"Xaro mused, "Ah. Let me put it this way. Every person who lives in Qarth does what they will for the benefit of Qarth. Save for the Warlocks. They do what they will for the benefit of themselves.
"I do not doubt that they would help you. However, their help will come with a wicked price," Xaro warned, "The question you must ask yourself, is whether or not you are willing to pay."
"I don't know."
"Then perhaps you should reconsider."
Dany thought about it. In some respects it would easy to just live out her life in Qarth. Could she do it? Possibly. Should she do it? Perhaps not. All her life, she was brought up to believe that her family had the divine authority to rule, that dragons bowed to no one. A small part of her was aware that some of what she was taught wasn't strictly true, but the larger part of her had long since accepted what Viserys had told her. It was that part her that ruthlessly suppressed the doubt that had somewhat taken a hold of her mind and squashed it into submission.
"No," she finally said, her mind made up, "I will not marry you, Xaro. I will retake my family's throne. With or without Qarth's help."
Xaro narrowed his eyes.
"So be it," he said, indifferently.
By this point, they had reached the wing where her khalasar was housed. What awaited her was not what she expected. The half a dozen men she had ordered to guard the wing were strewn across the courtyard, their throats slit. After a scant few seconds looking around, Dany rushed towards where she had left Rhaego, Drogon and Rhaellion, praying that the worst hadn't happened.
As she ran, she barely heard Xaro call out to bar the gates, while her bloodriders followed behind her. Within a minutes she made it to her quarters, only to find the cages for her dragons broken on the floor and Rhaego nowhere to be seen.
"Where are they?" she cried, "Where is my son? Where are the dragons? WHERE ARE MY CHILDREN?!"
The shuffle of footsteps caught Dany's attention. Immediately, she took a rudimentary defensive guard against the potential threat. It was for naught, however, as a doorway opened to reveal Doreah, holding a baby in her arms.
"Rhaego!" Dany exclaimed, running towards her son.
"Khaleesi! Thank the gods," the handmaiden breathed a sigh of relief.
"What happened?" Dany demanded.
"Th…The Milk Men came, Khaleesi!" Doreah explained, stuttering from the lingering shock, "They killed the guards. I had to choose between your son and your dragons. Please forgive me Khaleesi, I have failed you!"
"No! No, you have nothing to forgive, Doreah," Dany soothed, "You did the best you could in the situation you were in. I couldn't be more proud of you."
"Thank you Khaleesi," Doreah hiccupped, with a tearful smile.
A soft cough caught the attention of the two young women. Xaro stood at the entrance way, with a concerned expression on his face.
"Khaleesi, an emissary from the House of the Undying came just now," Xaro said, "The Warlocks are expecting you."
"They dare use my dragons as bait?" Dany hissed, "Very well. I will gather my bloodriders and Ser Jorah an-"
"Forgive me for interrupting, Khaleesi, but they said to come alone," Xaro revealed.
"What?!"
"If you do not, then they will kill your dragons before you even reach halfway," the merchant finished, with a grim look.
Dany paused to think. It was clearly a trap, but if she did not go then her dragons were forfeit. That alone, was reason enough. What mother would even consider abandoning her children?
"So be it," she finally acceded.
The House of the Undying, colloquially known as the Palace of Dust, was out of place, given the extravagance of Qarth. It was a grey and ancient ruin, standing alone in a grove of blackened trees. As she approached, the doors opened without assistance, prompting Dany to cautiously enter. The doors then suddenly closed with a resounding thud, leaving Dany in darkness.
She wasn't without light for long, however, as the tunnelway she stood in was lit with several torches. This allowed Dany to see the end of the corridor. The exit wasn't quite visible, but Dany heard to cries of her dragons echo in the tunnel. Needing no further prompting, she then made her way down, entering a circular room with a stone table in the middle. Around the walls were four doors. Picking one, she entered another room, one identical to the last. Again, she chose the same door as before, and found herself in yet another anteroom with four doors.
'What manner of sorcery is this?' she wondered.
Picking a different door, Dany did not enter another chamber of the same design, but instead Dany found herself in a large hall, filled with dragon skulls and red banners with black, three-headed dragons.
Before she could so much as even wonder what was going on, a voice from behind her called out to her.
"And who might you be?" a croaky voice asked, "Another traitor?"
Turning around, Dany came face to face with the very thing she sought; the Iron Throne. Upon said throne was a gaunt looking man, with a long, matted beard and hair that fell past his shoulders. Both were of a silver-gold colour. His fingernails were long claws that were yellowed and cracked. This was Aerys II, the last Targaryen to be king. To Dany, however, he was otherwise known as:
"Father?" Dany whispered.
"Father?" Aerys cackled, "I have no daughter girl! Rhaella, the useless women she is, hasn't born be a daughter. I have sons, a traitorous craven and a useless child!"
"No! Father! I am your daughter!" Dany insisted, "Mother was with child once more!"
"NO! I will hear your lies no longer!" Aerys denied, "I will not suffer liars and traitors! And do you know I do to traitors?"
Dany was unable to speak at the fury in her father's, or the apparition of her father, voice. Audibly gulping, she shook her head.
"We burn them," he snarled, "WE BURN THEM ALL!"
Unable to hear anymore, Dany fled leaving the Great Hall of the Red Keep. As she ran, echoes of 'BURN THEM ALL' followed her. She then paused, after a while, to take deep breaths of air, and calm her beating heart. Suddenly, the cries of Drogon and Rhaellion caught her attention, and she ran in the direction of the sound. Shortly, she found herself in the central fortress of the Red Keep.
'This must be Maegor's Holdfast,' she thought, remembering the stories her brother told her.
Without warning, the room she was in span, and Dany's sight blurred from dizziness. As this happened she was bombarded with images and visions, none of which made sense.
In one scene, she saw a beautiful woman, naked on the floor, being ravaged by four little men. They had rat-like faces, and tiny pink hands. One was between the woman's thighs, thrusting away, another was pumping into the woman's mouth. The other two were attacking the woman's breasts, biting savagely.
Next, she came upon a massacre at a feast. Men were brutally slaughtered. Bodies, limbs and heads laid everywhere. In the centre of it all, was a throne of bronze, with a horrifying figure sat upon it. A figure with a man's body, but a grossly oversized wolf's head, stared at Dany with sightless eyes. It wore a crown of iron, and held a leg of lamb, as one might a sceptor.
Her next vision granted her a familiar sight. It was the house with the red door in Braavos. She saw as a younger version of herself and her brother stood outside, before Viserys said some words. The vision turned dark, then, but Dany needed no further reminder. The memories were rather vivid.
Finally, her sight returned to her, and the spinning ceased. Dany wasn't sure where she was this time, but she was in the presence of a tall man with silver-blond hair and eyes of dark indigo with a woman with olive skin and black eyes. At first, she mistook the man for Viserys, but a second glance convinced her otherwise.
"Rhaegar and Elia," Dany whispered in realisation.
"You cannot have any more children?" Rhaegar asked, with a sorrowful expression.
"The maesters confirmed it, my love," Elia answered, "Rhaenys' birth did irreparable damage. Another child might kill the babe and me both."
"I see," Rhaegar said, frowning, "Our enemies are bearing down on us. Without a clear line of succession, House Targaryen might be brought to extinction."
'But what of Aegon?' Dany thought, 'Was that a lie? Is this Haraldr truly my nephew, and if so, do I even have a claim to the throne?'
"I am so sorry, my love," Elia apologised, lowering her eyes, "I failed in my duty."
"This is not your fault," Rhaegar refuted, gently grasping his wife's chin to look directly into her eyes, "Never blame yourself for something out of your control."
Dany watched as Elia smiled sadly at Rhaegar, before the Dornish Princess' eyes lit up.
"I may have an idea," she said.
However, before the Bard Prince could ask for elaboration, the man and wife faded into mist. This left Dany behind to hear the cries of her dragons once more, causing her to speed on her way.
On and on, she ran, as the cries of the dragons grew louder and clearer. How much time had passed, she did not know. To her fear, the torches that lit the passageways were, one by one, going out. Her pace quickened, as the creeping shadows followed her. It was to her good fortune that she managed to reach the door at the end of the hall, before the final torch guttered out. Enveloped in darkness, Dany pushed the doors open, and entered the circular room with the stone table once more.
However, this time, a crystal glass was on the table, filled with a blue liquid.
"You must drink it," the voice of Pyat Pree informed her, from behind Dany.
Startled, Dany spun on the spot, and glared at the Warlock.
"You!" she shouted, "Where are my dragons!"
"All in good time," the pale man deflected, "Drink, and open yourself."
"Will you give me my dragons if I do?" Dany asked, with a touch of naivety.
"Of course. Now drink," Pyat Pree urged.
"Will it turn my lips blue?"
"Nay, only unstop your ears and clear your eyes. All to ensure the truth will before you."
Dany raised the glass to her lips. The first sip tasted like a foul concoction of spoiled milk and rotten meat, and almost made her spit it out. However when she swallowed, it seemed to come alive. She could warmth spread through her chest, like tendrils of fire twisting around her heart. On her tongue was a mixture honey, cream, and every other taste that she ever savoured in her short life.
The moment the glass was empty, she dropped it. Ignoring the shattering of the glass, Dany clutched her head as she was once more bombarded with visions. This time, however, the visions were unclear, granting her barely a second to even comprehend what she saw.
She saw Viserys screaming, as molten gold dripped down his cheeks. She witnessed a monstrous beast of fire and shadow roaring at a man with a shining sword. She saw rubies flying from the chest of a dying prince, his last words that of a woman's name. She watched as a blue-eyed king, who cast no shadow, raise a red sword towards the sky. Three dragons. Creatures of ice and snow. A giant wall. Her silver. A white lion. The house with the red door. Willem Darry extending a hand towards her. Mirri Maz Duur shrieking in the flames. Visions came and went, in the blink of an eye.
With great effort, Dany opened her eyes, but soon wished that she hadn't. All around her were things, ancient and withered. Their skin was violet, the whites of their eyes and their nails blue. They were unmoving, even to the point of not breathing, yet they whispered.
"Mother!" they cried out to her, "Mother, mother!"
They reached for her, tearing away at her dress, touching her. They tugged at her cloak, her foot, her arms, and even her breasts. She struggled to breathe, as she felt the very essence of her life drawn from her. Yet, in an instant, a figure of pure white light appeared, scattering the creatures, who shrieked in pain.
"That's quite enough, I should think," though the voice was soft, the power behind the command ensured that the Undying Ones, or so Dany supposed, obeyed without challenge.
A scant few seconds later, and the light waned, leaving behind a young man, not much older than she, in its place. The man wore an outfit of black leathers, armour, and a black surcoat with a silver dragon depicted on the chest. He had black hair, and mismatched eyes, one violet like her own, and the other a striking green.
"Are you alright, Aunt Daenerys?" the man asked, which made Dany realise that this was her supposed nephew, Haraldr.
"I…I'm fine, thanks to you," she gasped, "But…How are you here?"
"I'm not. Not really," he said, shaking his head, "This is just a…hm…A magical projection."
Before she could reply to that, Dany was interrupted by the ancient warlocks.
"You cannot harm us here, Dragonlord!" one of them screeched, "We will not be denied our feast!"
"Perhaps I cannot," Haraldr agreed, much to the surprise of Dany, "But you will be denied. Just not by me."
"Then who?"
"Who else?" Dany's nephew grinned, "There isn't little boy born who would not tear the world apart to save his mother."
A loud crash startled everyone else, as a nearby wall collapsed. Out of the freshly made hole, a new figure stepped through. The figure was clearly male, wearing naught but a pair of leather breeches and boots. He was tall, almost as tall as Drogo, with copper-skin, and long silver-blond hair tied up in a dothraki style braid with several bells. In his hands were a pair of arakhs, made of Valyrian steel. However, it was the eyes that caught Dany's attention; deep violet eyes, like her own. It was them that made Dany realise who he was.
"Rhaego," she whispered, almost reverently.
Her grown up son turned to her with a smile on his face.
"Mother," he greeted, before turning to Haraldr, "Cousin. Thank you for aiding my mother."
"Think nothing of it," her nephew smiled, "I look forward to meeting you both, in due time."
With that said, he too dissolved into mist, leaving Dany with only her son to protect her.
"This is who will defeat us?" the shadows cackled, "A spectre from the days yet to come?"
"Nay," Rhaego said, shaking his head, "I think my siblings ought to take revenge on their captors, no? Drogon! Rhaellion! Come!"
With shrieks of rage, they came and landed on either side of Rhaego. Flaring the wings, both Drogon and Rhallion shrieked once more, causing the Undying Ones to flinch.
"Mother," Rhaego called out to Dany, a smirk adorning his lips, "Care to do the honours?"
Dany blinked in confusion, not understanding the question. Rhaego nodded towards the dragons, leading Dany to realise what her son meant. She smirked as well before turning to the Undying Ones.
"Dracarys," she commanded.
Immediately, both dragons took a deep breath, before spitting out torrents of fire each. The flames consumed them, as the Undying Ones screamed in pain. Their flesh crumbled to ash, and their bones charred into dust. Dany watched impassively, as her dragons burned indiscriminately. Eventually, none were left but mother, son and the dragons. After a few moments, Dany turned to Rhaego, frowning.
"How are you here?" she asked, "Why are you here?"
"About a week ago, from my perspective, his Grace summoned me, and shared a rather strange tale," Rhaego began to explain, "A tale of time-travel, and the necessity of acting to ensure the past went as was recorded."
"I don't understand," Dany confessed.
"I still don't,"Rhaego sheepishly admitted, "His Grace merely said to accept it for what it was, and try not understand. When it comes to time-travel, one just learns to take things as they come."
Unsure what to say to that, she changed the topic.
"His Grace?"
"Mn. His Grace, Haraldr Targaryen, first of his name, and so on and so forth," Rhaego replied, "Admittedly, he is a rather popular ruler."
"I see."
"Mother, I know this disappoints you. That you do not become Queen," Rhaego went on, "But take heart that we do indeed return to Westeros. We do return home."
Dany had to smile at the earnest tone in which her son spoke.
"It will take some time to come to terms with what I've learned, but…I think it's time to travel west," Dany said.
Rhaego grinned. As his legs started to vanish into mist, he approached his mother, and cupped her ear. He then whispered something before retreating. As his finally disappeared, he offered a silent wave, one that Dany returned as her dragons flared the wings.
"Goodbye my son," she murmured, "I will see you soon."
With that, she scooped up Drogon and Rhaellion and headed through the hole without even a backwards glance.
The reactions to the burning of the House of the Undying were mixed. For her Dothraki, it was a victory. One that merited a bell being fastened to her braided hair. Once, she might have deflected the victory to Drogon and Rhaellion, perhaps even to Rhaego, but now she held her tongue, thinking that the Dothraki would hold her in higher esteem with a few bells in her hair.
However, as a result of the burning, she and her khalasar were no longer welcome in the house of Xaro Xhoan Daxos, nor in Qarth as a whole. She was given two days to find a ship, or she would be evicted from the city, violently if needed.
So here she was, at the docks, looking for a ship and captain willing to ferry her and her people west. While Ser Jorah was off speaking with various captain, Dany was pondering over the visions she had in the House of the Undying. She had not spoken on what she experienced to anyone, and instead retreat inwards to consider what had seen. After finding out that who she thought was a pretender was in actual fact the legitimate heir to the Targaryen Dynasty, she began to doubt everything she learnt from Viserys. That her family had divine authority to rule. That the dragon reigned supreme over all else. It was enough to drive her mad, were it not for the words the older form of her son in High Valyrian. 'Never surrender, and never falter' he had said. Before she could consider further, however, she was interrupted by her loyal knight.
"Khaleesi, a man has come to see you," Ser Jorah said, "He says he comes on behalf of a 'fat man with a sweet stink'."
Dany's eyebrow rose up in intrigue, 'That description sounds an awful lot like Illyrio.'
"Bring him to me," she commanded, wondering why the magister, if it was indeed him, had deigned to contact her, after a year since he and Viserys sold her off to her late husband. Not that she had any issues regarding her marriage, but the principle of the matter remained.
The knight gestured for the man to come. He was huge, rotund man, with nut-brown skin, smooth cheeks of a eunuch, and a bald head. Dany estimated the man's weight to be anywhere between fifteen and twenty stone, more than twice her own size. His massive belly was adorned with countless scars, and his arms were comparable to tree-trunks. He wore baggy pants, a mustard yellow bellyband and a tiny leather and studded vest that only partially covered his huge chest. He was armed with a Dothraki arakh and a small buckler. The man clumsily bowed, as Ser Jorah spoke.
"This is Belwas, Khaleesi," the knight introduced, "He was a former slave that the Magister freed and then tasked to bring you back to Pentos. He has with him three ships that should be enough to hold your khalasar, horses and all."
"Greetings Belwas," Dany nodded in greeting, before raising an eyebrow, "From where to do you hail, that would leave you with all these scars?"
"You honour me, Khaleesi. Strong Belwas they name me in the fighting pits of Meereen. Never did I lose. I let each man cut me once, before I kill him. Count the scars and you will know how many Strong Belwas has slain," Belwas replied, "From Meereen I was sold to Qohor, and then to Pentos. There, the fat man with sweet stink in his hair freed me. It was he who send Strong Belwas back across the sea."
"Indeed? Then be welcome Strong Belwas. This is Ser Jorah Mormont, a knight of my Queensguard. Ko Aggo, Ko Jhogo and Ko Rakharo are Blood of my Blood."
"Horse boys," Belwas let out a toothy grin, "Belwas killed many a horse boy in the pits of Meereen. They are fun to kill."
Aggo drew his arakh, fuming at the insult.
"Never have I killed a fat brown man. Strong Belwas will be the first," he seethed.
"Enough. Blood of my Blood. Stay your blade," Dany interrupted, "If both of you are to protect me, I will not have you at each other's throats. And Belwas, do not insult my people lest you leave my service with more scars than you came with."
The Dothraki grudgingly sheathed his arakh, as Belwas' wide grin morphed into a confused scowl. Dany then smiled at the huge man, to take away some of the sting from the rebuke.
"Now tell me; what would Magister Illyrio have of me, that he would send you all the way from Pentos?" she asked.
"He would have dragons," Belwas gruffly stated, no longer in a jovial mood, "And he would have the girl who makes them. He would have you."
"I see. I have two dragons, and my son besides," she said, "As well as almost a hundred in my khalasar, with all their belongings and horses."
"It is no matter," Belwas boomed, "We take all. The fat man hires three ships for his little queen and her dragons."
"It is as he says, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah added, "Two galleys and a cog. The latter is berthed at the quay, while the other two are anchored beyond the breakwater."
'Three ships, three dragons,' she idly thought. Out loud, she said, "I shall have my people prepared to depart at once. However, the ships will bear different names. Name of power. The galleys shall be named Balerion and Vhagar, while the cog shall bear the title of Meraxes.
"Paint the names on the hull in golden letters. I was every man who sees them to know of my return," she commanded, "To know of the return of the dragons."
Author's Notes: Well. I'm back, with my longest chapter to date. Unfortunately, this was just a bit of canon rehashing, with a slight twist that I hope you all appreciate. As for when this chapter takes place, it runs concurrently with chapters nine through to twelve, and about as far as chapter fifteen. It would depend on how many chapters it would take to finish up my equivalent of the Battle of Blackwater Bay.
Next chapter, we will return to Westeros, so don't worry. I won't be leaving last chapter's cliffhanger resolved for long. The chapter is nearly finished, as it is.
Next update: Sometime in the next two weeks. I can't really guarantee any sooner, nor a more accurate prediction.