THIRTEEN; Daenerys
Her hands shook as she walked from the Maester's tower to Yara's chambers. The door was wide open, and Theon Greyjoy slept in her bed. His face was pale, like milkgrass, and his one good eye was shut. Most of his head had been bandaged, as well as his blistered arm. Yara sat by his side, half-asleep.
"Yara," Dany called. Her voice cracked.
"Leave," ordered the other woman. Dany's stomach dropped. She laced her fingers together in an attempt to cease their twitching and stared down at her blood stained boots.
"I am sorry this is happening—"
Yara shot out of her chair abruptly. "He's dying because of you, you foolish cunt!" Dany winced, but she could not fault Yara for her anger. "If you had just kept your bloody dragons chained up, none of this would have happened!"
Fire flared within her. "You think they should be chained?!" She demanded. "Held like hostages—?"
"You've done it before!" Yara kicked the bed, and grimaced. "Just get out."
"Yara—"
"Get out!"
Her own pride did not want to let her leave. It wanted to make her stay and fight back, but humanity trumped that; she knew that Yara was grieving. She knew that they had all lost so much tonight. Nodding, she stepped out.
Her heels echoed on the stone floor. Eyes hot with tears, she aimed for her own bedchambers, hoping to rest her sore muscles and sleep away her trauma. But then, behind her, there were hurried footsteps. For a moment she hoped it might be Yara, but she was proven wrong.
White Rat caught up to her. "Your Grace!" He painted. "You must come! Your dragons!"
Her heart stopped. What? Quickly she followed him, bursting into a run. They rushed down the many steps on to the outer terrace and then descended the narrow passageway to the beach, where the rest of her forces — injured and otherwise — still remained gathered. Several ships were sinking, and more than a few were blackened.
But at least three-hundred were more than a thousand feet away, sailing west. Above them was a pale golden dragon. "What happened?!" Dany demanded, in the Common Tongue. She remembered that they could not understand her. "What happened?! Where is Rhaegal?!"
"Gone, my queen," said White Rat. "He flew away into the sky shortly after you left. Then the horn sounded again. There was a child, by the boats. A boy. Dozens of Unsullied dead, my queen. See?" He pointed, and there on the far shores, scattered over the rocks, were the bodies of dead Unsullied soldiers. They had spears in their chests and backs.
Dany did not understand. It had not even been an hour since she had gone to see Missandei. How had she not heard the commotion? The cries of the dead? She had burnt the horn! She had watched the flames consume it!
"Why is no one going after them?!" Dany rounded on White Rat. "Why are you all just standing around?"
"Captain of ships is with her brother," said White Rat, as though it were the most obvious thing. "Another man tried to go after them, but the boat was burnt by the golden dragon. I am sorry, my queen."
Dany madly scanned the skies. There was no sight of Rhaegal, who had been high up. It would have been so easy for him to slip away. For all she knew, he was not truly gone, but merely hunting. He could have been out of earshot for the sounding of a horn which should not have existed. But of course it had been a fake. Of course Euron had taken advantage of her blindness and exposed her for the fool she was.
Drogon's dark shape stood out to the south. He was surely far enough away. There was at least that small comfort. But she did not have him. He could not hear her. Desperately she tried to come up with some sort of a plan. "Rally the men!" She ordered of White Rat. "Find Yara Greyjoy, and prepare the ships!"
There were so many still burning. Dany estimated that there were only around five-hundred left, and she had only twice as many men here on hand. Others were with the second fleet and the escapees. Her uninjured men stood and took up their arms once more. Dany reached the nearest ship and climbed up the ropes side, hastily, wincing with every movement inflicted upon her injured, bandaged hand.
I cannot keep doing this, she thought. I just want to keep my children safe. What did I ever do to deserve to have them stolen from me?
"Pull up the anchor," she ordered, running over the length of the deck to help the men haul the mass up the side. Two nearby ships were also pushing away from the shore with the help of spare hands below.
Soon they were sailing. Dany willed her ship to go as fast as it could. She preyed to every god she had ever heard of that they would just go faster. Inside she was breaking. An anger festered deep within the pits of her stomach. If I look back I am lost.
She did not look back. Not even to see if Drogon was closer yet.
She was not sure how it happened. Perhaps it was wind. Perhaps the sea. But somehow they were gaining on the enemy fleet. Anticipation gripped her, and a thirst for revenge. "VISERON!" She screamed, once they were close enough. "VISERON, PLEASE!"
There was no indication that he had even heard her. In fact, with a flap of his wings he was higher up in the sky. "Please..."
And then she saw him. Euron Greyjoy was peering out at her from the hull of his ship, with a crooked bright grin on his face. Another horn was with him — this one sleek and black, made of onyx and encrusted with rubies. "Daenerys!" He called.
Her eyes were wide. "You were dead," she hissed. He of course did not hear her, but he knew that she had spoken.
"The Drowned God favours me," he repeated. She did not understand. He had been burnt, to a blackened crisp. She had seen his body as they set out...
"A decoy," she whispered, bitterly. The body had been a fake. Some act of foolish magic. And the boy... he must have been killed. All of this had been a game to him; an amusing fight. A show. She was so angry that her body trembled.
Their ships brushed one another. The one on Dany's starboard side was invaded with Greyjoy soldiers within seconds. The clamour of metal against metal rang out. Euron laughed. How could this have happened? How could I have been so foolish as to believe he was gone?
"Give me Viseron!" She screamed.
Euron did not laugh again. There was no more amusement in his expression. The ships rocked. Dany stumbled, trying to catch her footing. When she looked up again, Euron was on her deck. The Unsullied around her aimed their spears and gathered around her. Dany straightened. She would not give him the satisfaction of thinking that she could not handle the sea.
It began to rain. "Give me my dragon!" Dany screamed, for what seemed like the thousandth time that day.
"It is my dragon, now, you bitch!" With an outraged roar he came charging at her. Dany's nearest guards flanked her, while the ones on the outer edges kneeled with their spears in hand. They would have impaled Euron, but suddenly he was gone.
There was calm, if only for a second. Calm and confusion. Viseron shrieked from the skies and twirled upward, seemingly oblivious — content with the fact that his mother had nearly been murdered...
And then Euron came crashing down on them. Her guards were flattened and scattered. Dany was thrown backward. Her head smacked against the deck. She groaned, vision doubled and skull throbbing. Her mouth stung, and she realised she had bit her tongue. Euron was fighting off her men, as were several of his own. She managed to half sit-up, spitting out blood.
"Your Grace," said White Rat, who was still with her at least. She shook his arm off, dazed. In the grey sky she could see a mass of white scales. Viseron was the smallest of his siblings, yes, but he was still large.
Where was Rhaegal? Drogon?
The cries of the dying filled her ears. Dany could not think. She could not comprehend. White Rat pulled her to her feet, but that hurt much more than her head ever could have. She wiped her mouth.
Euron stood alive, panting and drenched. One of her Unsullied remained alive, but he was grovelling with an axe stuck in his side. "It is time for the mother of dragons to die," said Euron.
He lunged. White Rat blocked his blow. Dany managed to scurry out of the way. She looked around for some sort of weapon to defend herself, but there were none that she could properly wield. All of the spears were snapped...
She took an end. The great Daenerys Stormborn perishes with no more than a broken spear in hand, Dany thought bitterly. What would Viserys say, if he could see me now?
He would tell her that she was no dragon. That she was worthless, and pathetic, and that she deserved to die. Perhaps that was true. Perhaps she should just let this happen the way that it was meant to.
Viseron shrieked again. That anger twisted within her again. She gripped the spear more tightly, gathered her courage, and charged.
White Rat managed to twist away from Euron's thrust just in time to give Dany an opening. She tackled Euron, but they did not fall. He was much too built for that. His axe came at her chest, but she slipped away — nearly falling — and grabbed his wrist to stay the second blow.
But who was she to stop him? She was barley a presence. They both grunted. His arm twisted, and flew outward. Then it came around again. With a sharp crack she was flying away from him. Dany was thrown on to the side of the ship, but rail only came up to the middle of her thigh. She was wide eyed as she lost balance, and without any sense as she fell over the side.
The water came up to meet her, and with it there was a certain serenity.
Snow fell.
There was blood. There was snow and there was blood. White and red. He was sleeping, he had to be sleeping... Ghost nudged his side, but there was nothing. He howled. He whined. He burrowed his muzzle beneath his master's arm and cried without tears.
Snow fell, outside. A fallen Snow lay within.
There was water all around her. She could not breathe. Her hands pushed at nothing. Her legs would not work. Everything was so cold...
"Hello."
Dany started. Wildly she turned around, toward the sound of the man's voice. He leaned against a tree that some part of her knew did not exist. There was a sort of careless smile on his face which instantly endeared her to him. Dany could not quite place why.
They were in a field of flowers. Roses, poppies, daisies, and other kinds which Dany could not name. She knew only the wildflowers of Essos. All of these around her were so beautiful; things she had seen only in dreams and books. She ran her hand over the tips of the petals. They were softer than scales. "Who are you?"
"I am Robb," he replied.
"Stark," she finished for him. She did not understand how she knew, but he could be no one else. With his auburn hair and grey-blue eyes, she knew it to be true. "Where is your wolf?"
Robb pushed off of his tree. "I am surprised you know about Grey Wind," he told her, eyes squinting in the light of the sun. "I was under the impression that you were quite ignorant when it comes to my siblings and I."
Dany's brow furrowed. "And how would you know this?" After a sudden thought, she added, "Can you see me? From this... this Beyond? Is Viserys here? My mother?" How badly she wanted to see them, she realised; Viserys as he should have been and her mother even at all. A great longing took hold of her, and soon Dany's eyes were filled with tears.
Robb Stark softened. There was only the smallest patch of flowers between them. "I am afraid not," he said, true regret in his voice. "It is just you and I today."
She sobbed, though she did not want to. "Why?"
Then she was in his arms. He held her as she cried for the family that she had lost. Dany was comforted by the fact that none of this possibly could be real. This was not Robb Stark holding her, but rather Death himself. Even so, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck.
"I know what it feels like," Robb told her. He sounded so sad. "To lose the people that you love. Your family. Even... Even when it was me dying, I was losing them. At least I had the hope that I would not see them for a very long time — but in moments of great grief, all have a tendency to be selfish. I just wanted to hold my sisters once more. To see Rickon smile or hear Bran laugh. I wanted to talk with Jon, again. Just one last time. I wanted to hug my father, to kiss my wife, to know my son."
At that, Dany met his eyes. "I wanted to know mine, as well," she whispered. "I never... I carried him in my womb for nine months, and then he was just gone. As though he had never existed." Her little Rhaego. He could have been the stallion to mount the world.
Robb pushed her hair from her shoulders. "I cannot let you be selfish, Daenerys," he said. "It is what I'm here for. To stop you from the temptations of the afterlife." He sucked in a sharp breath, gaze so distant she imagined she would never see its like again. "My father... he did not let Jon see anything. He did not want Jon to be tempted in the slightest, as we knew he would be."
Dany frowned. "And why not do the same for me?"
"You are different," Robb told her. "Strong in a way that he is not."
She shook her head. "I am weak," she told him. "I have lost everything. My home, my family, my best friend, my children..." she wiped away a tear.
Robb studied her, intently. After a moment, he said, "Not everything. Not all of your family."
Dany swallowed. "What do you mean?" Who could it be that he spoke of? Did he mean Drogon? Or Tyrion? Grey Worm?
"Jaehaerys Targaryen," Robb whispered. "I am breaking many a rule by divulging this truth, so you must be silent or I will not be able to finish in time. Trust that this is no falsehood, Daenerys." He took her hand. In that very short second, as he held her, she thought that if things had been very different she might have loved this man.
"Jon Snow is the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen," he said. Her stomach quivered, but she did not speak. "They married in secret. The loved each other, but this is a rare truth. My brother... my cousin... he is just learning it for himself. I suspect he will not come to terms with it. He will need you to help him with that."
Dany frowned. "Why...?" Of course she knew why, and how, but she could not understand it even then. Jon Snow, the man she had agreed to marry, was her — her what? Nephew? Yes. Her nephew. But why had she not known before? Why was she only learning this now, after so many years of isolation? A sick, dark blackening coiled within her.
"I'm sorry," said Robb. He was fading away. "I cannot say any more."
She had never been more outraged. Never been more insulted. He knew this — he knew of Jaehaerys — and she did not. She had been told by an enemy. "Robb—"
He was gone. The sky above her was silken and grey; a broken blue. Rain fell on her already wet face. Her body shook with a great cold. Dany brought up an arm to shield herself, coughing. There was sand all over her body.
"My queen," said White Rat. He sounded positively joyous. "You live."
Do I?
Her mind was still racing from her dream. Or was it a dream? Had it perhaps been real? Had what Robb Stark told her been true? She could not hate him for it, nor could she hate Jon — Jaehaerys — if it was. But she could be angry. Foolishly, undoubtedly angry.
Dany pushed herself to her feet weakly. "What happened to Euron?" She croaked, scanning the waters for enemy ships.
"Gone," said a woman's voice. Dany turned, relieved to see Yara standing not far away. She was scowling. "I thought he was dead, but I was wrong."
Dany wiped her mouth. That only proceeded in dirtying her even more. "I am sorry," she said, feeling it. "I had no idea he would—"
"Without your dragons, you have no power," Yara snapped. "Why should I follow you? Why should I continue this alliance?"
Offended and outraged, Dany rounded on her. "Our men fought together," she said. "Side by side. I did not injure Theon. I did not destroy these ships or tempt fate. These men died because they believe in me, and you."
Yara scowled. "You're just as mad as Aerys," she hissed.
Dany drew back as though she had been slapped. "How dare you?"
Scoffing, Yara threw her axe into the sand. "How dare I? Are you truly asking, Daenerys Targaryen?" Her lips curled downward with utter disgust. "You are no queen. You're just a foolish slut."
Dany did not mean to do it. She did not want to do it. But she did it. She struck her clear across the cheek. "I am your queen—"
"You are a queen," Yara retorted, not the slightest bit phased. "And a shit one at that! Cersei Lannister would be better than you!"
Dany shook her head in disbelief. Twice today she had confronted this woman's uncle. Twice she had lost her dragons. Twice she had rallied her men. Twice she had failed, and she was half-convinced that she might have died once, as well. But this was the worst hurt, somehow. To lose yet another person.
"Take your ships then, Yara," she said, not letting that hurt into her voice. "Take them, and go."
Varys was waiting for her in her bedchamber. She stared at him, still bruised and battered and broken, and she found that the only thing she could think of was Jaehaerys Targaryen. Varys was the master of whisperers — secrets flew to him like bees to honey. "Did you know?"
The spider cocked the area where is eyebrow might have been, were he not a eunuch. "That Euron Greyjoy would attack?" He asked. "No, I am afraid not, but might I just mention what a gruesome scene that was. Did you truly fall from a ship?"
Dany disregarded his inquiry. Her heart slammed against her chest as she stared at him, the way she had stared at so many of her enemies. Emotionless and yet within crippled, excluded, naive and furious. "Did you know about Jaehaerys?"
Immediately Varys paled. Perhaps he had been concerned before, but now he was terrified. "Who told you of him? Euron?"
Rage filled her. With this white hot blindness she found herself grabbing the nearest thing — a ceramic jug of water — and threw it at him. "Why did you not say?!" She demanded. "If you knew, why did you not tell me?!"
Varys winced as the jug shattered against the wall behind him. "Did Euron tell you of him?"
"No!" She was crying, now. Fists balled and screaming like some petulant child. Like Viserys. "No! I saw it when I fell! I saw him, and the man who called himself his brother! Robb Stark told me..." she sucked in a shuddering breath. "You think I am mad, do you not?"
Varys was silent for a long time. "The Targaryens often had many visions," he told her at last, coming closer. "It was said, by some, that they possessed the gift of prophecy. Some called it a blessing from the gods. I do not find it abnormal that you would have this gift as well."
For whatever reason, this comforted her just slightly. Even sane members of her house had seen things. She wiped her tears. "How long have you known?"
"Close to a year," Varys replied.
She wanted to throw another vase. "And you kept this secret to yourself? Why?" Why indeed. It seemed to be one of the only questions on her mind, of late. Why had she been born? Why had she been thrust into a world of hatred and shame and judgement? Why had she been chosen for this life? Why had Viserys not been a better brother? Why had her mother died birthing her? Why had her father been mad? Why? Why? Why?
"It was a necessary precaution—"
"Necessary?!" She demanded. "Do you think I would have waited to depart this long if I had know that I had a family, still? Do you think I—" she bit down on her lip to keep from sobbing. Her chin wobbled. Dany leaned against the table in the centre of her room and slowly lowered herself to the ground.
So much has happened today. Too much.
"He does not know," Varys said.
"Yes he does," Dany managed to reply. "Robb told me." She recalled his earnest face to memory. He had been so young when he died — younger even than Viserys.
Varys sighed. "What do you want to do, then? Kill me? Kill him?"
"No!" She snapped. For she did not want him dead. Either of them. Truly she did not. He was the last of her blood remaining to her. The last Targaryen aside from herself. But what if... "What if he challenges my claim?" If he did, it would not be much of a battle; he was Rhaegar's son, where she was his sister; a man, where she was a woman. He knew Westeros in a way that she did not, and had a reputation of being honourable whereas she was... Feared? Respected?
"You have dragons," Varys reminded her.
"One dragon," Dany replied bitterly. "One was stolen, and the other is missing." At least Euron had not taken Rhaegal. There was that.
Abruptly she laughed. Dany had never held on to such meagre comforts before. So thin, they were; like string ready to snap. It was truly pathetic. She covered her eyes with her hands, shaking. Jon Snow was a Targaryen. Euron had taken her dragons. Missandei was dead. Yara had deflected. Theon was injured. Her fleet was half-gone and her men half-dead.
She needed help. And she was not going to get it by matching straight into the capital to steal back her dragon.
But oh, how she wanted to.
"I have to go to him," she told Varys, sobering. "I have to go north and secure this foolish alliance."
Varys lowered himself beside her. She realised that she was tucked underneath the table. Once, when she had been small, Viserys had indulged her and they had played monsters-and-maidens together. She had been so frightened when he had grabbed her from behind and made his scary monster face that she screamed.
Varys was no monster. A spider, true, but not a monster. "Will you marry him?" He asked.
Dany sniffed. "I do not know," she confessed. "I no longer want to. He is my family. Why should I have to marry him to earn his loyalty?"
Varys shrugged slightly. His silks rose and fell. "I do not know him," he told her. "I cannot speak for him. But I did know Ned Stark. He was a man of honour—"
Dany scoffed. "Now you are just telling me the same things that everyone else has," she snapped. "Just because Ned Stark was a man of honour, does not mean Jon Snow will be. My father was mad. Am I?"
But Robb Stark had not been dishonourable, had he? She had seen him. She had embraced him, and he had done the same to her. If Robb was good, why not Jon? Why not the rest of them?
What was the worst Jon Snow could be, anyway? She would not allow him to abuse her, nor would she allow him to use her. And she did not think that he would dare do any of those things, either, given his reputation. Many said that he was the best swordsman in all of Westeros. They said that he was honest and true.
They also said he had betrayed the vows of the Night's Watch. A man of honour did not do that. Could this perhaps be part of some grand scheme to fool her into believing she could trust him, so as to murder her? Was Robb still fighting his war, even after having been dead for so long?
And yet she knew him to be good. She had seen that. She had felt it. She had heard it. He was good in a way that she had never known anyone to be. Dany sighed. "Please, leave me," she said. "I must think."
Later, after Varys had gone, she stripped off her leathers and crawled into bed. In her dreams, she saw two young boys chasing one another around a pale white tree, laughing without end.
She slept for two days. When she woke, she prepared herself a bath and soaked. Dany scrubbed away the dirt and grime from her skin, leaving it a raw pink when she was finished. After that, she twisted her hair into a simple style without the extra hands to help her braid. She wore it the way she had when she'd first met Drogo; down, aside from two pieces along the crown of her head.
It had been so long since she had but such little effort into her appearance.
She did not have a true council to convene. Only Varys and White Rat. Instead she roamed the halls; visiting the beds of the injured and the dead, and thanking her men. It was the first time she had done such a thing.
Missandei was buried in a secluded garden behind the castle, under a peach tree. Dany laid stones over her grave, but she did not cry. She wore black to commiserate for her dear scribe.
It was easy to slip into a state of nothing-ness. Inside she was a ruin, but she did not want to feel that, yet. She did not want to remember what she had learned. She did not want to acknowledge it as the truth.
Yara Greyjoy confronted her in the small dining hall. The woman wore the same leathers she had the day before. Her hair was unclean and there were shadows under her eyes. "You have not been so see my brother."
Dany laced her fingers together. "Has he improved?"
"Some," Yara replied. "The maester says he will not wake for some time."
Dany swallowed. "You have not left yet," she pointed out. "Do you mean to stay until after he is well?"
At that, to her surprise, Yara smiled. "I was wrong in what I said," she told Dany. "You and I... We are fighting for the same cause. I should not have blamed you. It was foolish of me. I will not be leaving, Daenerys."
"And... you are not angry?"
Yara shook her head. "No," she said. "Not anymore. Are you?"
Dany swallowed. "No."
Yara held out her hand, and Dany knew that it was an offer of peace. "Then come with me to see my brother."
AN: This is catching up with me. Currently working on a chapter ahead, but it's not THAT far ahead, which is worrying. Anyway, review - tell me what you thought.
(Shameless plugging ahead) Also, if any of you are HP fans, seriously, go check out my story Complexus Amore; it's hardly been getting attention and feels suitably neglected. Love you all!