Someone said in my last chapter the problem was that Olenna was out of character, which is true. And while I could have had Joffrey die and Cersei be the main villain they needed to overthrow, I didn't want that.
So instead Olenna did not kill Joffrey, did not poison him and has been kept mostly to Highgarden.
But anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Oh yeah, my Aegon is a bit of a dick for a while.
But I have plans for him so...
XIV
ZHALLI
PLANS to sail across the sea were slowly developing, coming together. Zhalli was required to sit in meetings about their war against the people of iron. She was Robb Stark's Khaleesi, after all. In those meetings she still felt quite out of place, she did not know what to contribute to the conversation so she would sit quietly beside her husband and keep her mouth shut. She would study everyone who spoke, eyes a little narrowed as she would listen to them even though most of what they said she did not understand. She was not a battle minded individual, and she did not understand Westeros.
"Queen Zhalli," she blinked slowly, a little surprised at the title and the fact it was her Khaleesi addressing her. "Do you have an opinion on the matter?"
Zhalli's mouth opened, what matter? "Apologies," she then said, "I don't think that I know what you're talking about."
There was a flicker of irritation on the Khaleesi's face before she squashed it, "Hm. Then you, King Robb? What is your opinion on the matter?"
Her husband straightened, he glanced down at Zhalli before answering, "I agree, we should sail straight to King's Landing and take it."
There were murmurs of agreement all around the table, Zhalli pressed her lips together as she stared down at the map. She was sitting with King's Landing pointing at her, she then placed her hand down on the map and rubbed her hand over the map. Zhalli then reached over to take a sip of her wine, her eyes then darting to Khal Drogo who sat pensively, staring down at the map also. Khal Drogo did not know much of the invasion, he offered nothing to the table, he kept his mouth shut when they spoke of sailing across the sea.
"I agree," the Khaleesi clenched her hands around her seat, leaning forward.
"Your Grace," a man said carefully, he was much older than them and he appeared to be from Westeros – like every other person in the room. "We need to be careful – the people-"
"I do not want to harm the people, Ser Barristan," Khaleesi spoke coolly, "However, I wish to take back my home. It is time for the Targaryen Dynasty to take back what it is owed."
"Of course," the man cleared his throat. "But how will you do that if the city is nothing but a pile of ash?"
The reason Khaleesi was so successful was because they believed in her, how would she get the belief of the people of Westeros if she killed them? A little unsure, Zhalli opened her mouth to say something but instead kept her mouth shut. What did she know? She had just become a Khaleesi herself, she had not been raised to be a Khaleesi. Tucking a loose curl behind her ear, Zhalli glanced around the table – specifically her husband's people, who all seemed displeased with what the Khaleesi wanted to do to King's Landing.
Silence fell over the table, Zhalli tugged at her dress and looked over at her husband. "Ser Barristan is right," her husband then spoke. "You will not gain the hope of the people if you destroy King's Landing, especially with so many people living in King's Landing."
"Khaleesi," the doors opened and they were interrupted by Daario Naharis and a few of the Unsullied soldiers. "There is someone here to see you."
"They can wait," she frowned.
"No," a voice came from behind them and a man stepped into the room. "I will not wait."
"Who are you?" Khaleesi narrowed her eyes as she studied the man.
The man was tall, and he was handsome. His hair was a light silver colour, almost the same shade as the white-blonde of the Khaleesi's hair. His eyes were narrow, a dark violet colour and he stood tall and proud, several men behind him. There was a sword that hung from a belt at his waist and he wore armour, much like her husband did. Zhalli looked to the Khaleesi who was standing, hands clenched into fists. Khal Drogo stood behind her, a protective shadow as he glowered at the man in front of them.
"Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell," he informed them.
"That's impossible," Robb Stark suddenly stood from his seat, Zhalli frowned up at her husband. "Aegon Targaryen was killed as a babe."
The man's eyes narrowed, "No thanks to people like your father." Her husband seemed ready to berate the man, Zhalli grasped his arm to stop him from doing anything rash. "No, I was swapped with a peasant babe and smuggled out of the city by Lord Jon Connington and Varys."
"Varys," Barristan shook his head. "Khaleesi, what will you do?"
"Do you have any proof?" She narrowed her eyes upon her nephew.
"This is not proof enough for you?" He motioned to his appearance.
"No," she said coolly, "There are many in Lys who have Valyrian features. You could be one of them."
The man's resolve seemed to falter, "I do not have definite proof."
"Then you could be a liar, aiming for my throne," she snarled at him. "Why should I believe you?"
Another man stepped into the fray, looking worn, "Because I was Hand of the King to your father, and your brother's closest friend. I promised I would protect his children, I will forever hold the guilt we could not get to little Princess Rhaenys and Princess Elia on time."
Khaleesi pressed her lips together, "Meeting adjourned." She then snapped, turning to her husband.
Zhalli rose from her seat slowly, following her husband out of the room. "What do we do?" She heard Dacey Mormont asked her husband, "If that man really is Aegon Targaryen…"
"Then there is not much else we can do," her husband then said. "We will support Queen Daenerys and everything will go as we originally planned. Do you understand?"
"Of course," Dacey Mormont pressed her lips together, seemingly displeased.
"What does this man mean to the Khaleesi?" Zhalli asked her husband as they made their way from the room.
"He claims to be her nephew," her husband explained. "But all we know is that Aegon Targaryen was killed when King's Landing was stormed."
"It is not possible he lived?" Zhalli challenged, "He looks a lot like her."
"Yes, but as she said, many in Lys still hold the Valyrian looks," Robb cleared his throat. "Excuse me, I need to head down to the docks to check that the ships will soon be ready to sail."
"Will we be ready to sail?" Greatjon Umber's voice came from behind them, his voice was deep and Zhalli gazed up at the giant man.
"I should hope so," Robb pushed his fingers through his hair. "I need to take back the North and bring my family back together."
Zhalli stared at the back of her husband's head as he walked ahead of her, Greatjon beside him. "What will you do?" She heard someone ask and Zhalli turned her head to look up at Dacey Mormont who is gazing down at her, curious and open. "Will you fight with us to take back the North?"
"Of course I will," Zhalli frowned. "The North will be my home."
And that was that, her future had been set in stone the moment she had been offered as marriage to King Robb Stark of the North in Westeros. Zhalli still had no idea about Westeros, what little education she had was from her father who had not much education himself. She would likely never see the plains she had crossed as a child again, she would perhaps never see Meereen again either. She would be the Khaleesi of the North, a place she had never heard of – it was obscure in her mind, a place quite like the plains she had grown up in.
"Good," Dacey smiled at her, a friendly smile on her face instead. "I hope you will be a good Queen, I can help to teach you how to be a Westerosi Lady. And a Northern Lady."
Zhalli blinked up at her and could not help but smile. Yet still, she found it hard to imagine herself as a lady. She still wore practical, comfortable clothing that she had grown up with – her practical, Dothraki wear. How would they react knowing she only wished to wear trousers? Her light brown, horse skin trousers. Following Dacey Mormont, who wore her own trousers, though they were coloured, Zhalli studied the back of the woman as she strode confidently down the hall.
"You will be a good Queen, when you receive the proper education," Dacey then smiled at her. "I can help you, I may be a warrior but I have been taught the fine arts. I am prepared to teach you."
"Thank you," Zhalli then smiled at her, feeling rather relieved. "I will appreciate all your help you will offer. I want to be the best Queen I can be."
Rolling over onto her side, Zhalli's eyes opened slightly and she stared out into the bright morning sky. It was bright and she squinted, holding up her hand in front of her. She then rolled over again, looking to the other side of her bed. But there was nobody there, which wasn't unusual as she had not come to her husband's bed since their wedding night, she did not want to be with him when she really did not know who he was. But her father would grow angry if he knew, which was why she spent her nights in her goodsister's chambers, she had no idea where Arya slept.
Pushing herself up, Zhalli let her legs slip out from the blankets and she pressed them to the warm stone floor. She moved toward the window, pressing her hands into the edge as she peered out at the city. It was odd, having a roof over her head that was thick stone rather than the thinness of a tent. Rubbing the side of her neck, she realised she would miss the plains she had grown up on, she had crossed for her Khaleesi – rather than Meereen.
She would cross the seas for her Khaleesi, the dangerous water no Dothraki trusted but they would do it for her. But she would also be doing it for her husband, and for herself, taking back land that belonged to him and avenging his family. Zhalli moved away from the window, turning as she noticed Arya had entered the room. She was so sneaky, so silent and Zhalli hardly ever noticed her. The woman had her arms crossed in front of her, lips pressed together as she tapped on her foot and seemed to wait for Zhalli to say something.
"How is your morning?" Zhalli asked her, quietly.
"Good," Arya then jerked her head to the door. "You should get dressed, we have training to get to."
Zhalli still struggled with a sword, but it just so happened her good sister was more than competent with a sword. She found it easier to learn from Arya rather than her father, "Right."
"I'll be waiting in the armoury," Arya then said as she strode to the door. "Hurry up, I don't have all day to be waiting for you."
"Yes," Zhalli nodded quickly as she hurried to get clothes appropriating for training.
Pulling on tight trousers made from cow skin and a similar shirt, she braided her hair back and slipped on her boots before heading out of Arya's chambers. Her dark eyes studied each of the Dothraki or Unsullied she passed, taking everything in like her father often suggested she did. It's the greatest way to identify any obvious weakness, her father had once told her when she had been a girl no older than twelve. Not, all together, that long ago, but still – she made sure to always recall her father's lessons, he was one of the greatest warriors she knew.
Heading out into the morning warmth, Zhalli turned her head up toward the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the sun warming her and she turned her head, looking toward the training ground where she could already see some of the Dothraki and others already at the training ground. Zhalli turned, heading to the armoury instead of the training ground as that was where she had been requested to visit. Rubbing her hands together, she stepped inside and nodded at one of the Dothraki men who strolled right passed her, spear in his hand.
"Are you ready?" Arya then asked, holding out a sword to Zhalli.
"Yes," she nodded, grasping the hilt of the sword.
"Let's go then," Arya stepped passed her, Zhalli followed her out of the armoury.
"We are practicing with swords today?" Zhalli asked as they made their way out into the training ground, grasping the blunt sword tightly in her hand.
"Yes," Arya answered as she whirled around, "But it will not be with me."
"Then who?" Zhalli's brows lifted, would she be training with her father again?
"Robb," Arya shoved her fingers through her hair. "Robb wants to train with you."
A little surprised, Zhalli followed Arya and she slowed to a stop as her husband stood in front of her. He gripped the sword in his hand, looking out at the sun. His brown hair shimmered red, his skin was rather pale but she thought him painfully handsome in the morning light. Her heart pounded inside her chest, Zhalli felt her palm sweating a little on the hilt of the sword and she gritted her teeth as she forced herself forward. Her husband turned his head slowly, his grey eyes appearing as bright as the ocean in the sunlight.
"Zhalli," he crossed over to her, a small smile on his face.
"Khal Robb," she nodded at him, staring up at him.
"You just need to call me Robb," he requested again, reminding her that she was his equal. "I wanted to train with you, is that acceptable?"
"Yes," she nodded, gripping her sword even tighter. "Are you prepared to train with me?"
"I want to," he then said. "I suggested to Arya that I should test your skill. I have heard rumours, that you are not strong with a sword?"
"It is not my preferred weapon," she then muttered.
"Then I suppose we will have to help you practice," Robb suggested. "I am one of the best swordsmen," it was a confident statement, rather than bragging.
"Is that so?" She arched a brow, holding up her sword. "Is this true?" She then turned to look at Arya who was watching the two of them, arms crossed over her chest.
"I'd say so," Arya offered. "But I can beat him," Arya then flashed a grin at her brother.
"Oh," Zhalli pressed her lips together, nodding her head slowly as she studied her husband. "Should I not learn from Arya, who can defeat you?"
A smile quirked on her husband's face, "Arya has a different skill set to mine. Do you want to train?"
"Yes," she then nodded, "We can train."
Arya then nodded at the two of them, "I'll find someone else to train with." She then pointed to the edge of the training ground, disappearing from their view.
"Are you ready?" The words came as a taunt from her husband's mouth, Zhalli then nodded, grasping the hilt of the sword.
"Yes," she then nodded her head sharply. "I am ready to train with you."
"I will not go easy on you," he then told her.
Zhalli jerked her head, gripping the hilt of the sword as her husband crouched and stepped toward her. He held his own sword, but his grip was not as tight as her own and she pressed her lips together as he swung. She ducked, as she had been taught, coming up as soon as the sword had stopped swinging over her. Her husband was smiling, Zhalli thought it odd as he seemed to want her to carry a child rather than fight with him against his enemies across the sea. So why did he smile?
Puzzled, Zhalli found herself a little distracted and she almost had his sword scratch her cheek. She parried him, lips pressed together and brows furrowed as he stepped back. Zhalli shook her head, she could not let herself get distracted – especially since she wanted to prove that she could protect herself and that she would be an asset as his Khaleesi. No man wanted a weak Queen, one that could not fight for herself. Zhalli straightened her shoulders, narrowing her eyes to make sure that she could fiercely attempt to beat him, even though her sword skills were weak.
Their swords clashed against each other and Zhalli found herself working up a sweat. Her arms were not weakening, but she was feeling quite odd as she tried to beat him. But he was much too good for her, every time she dodged him she would duck and dodge – unable to keep up with the speed and power behind his sword strokes. Biting down on her lip, Zhalli focused on his body, attempting to study his body in an attempt to find any weakness. It was impossible, he seemed to have no weaknesses and she was really struggling against him.
Eventually he overpowered her, she fell against the ground, his sword pointed at her throat. Frowning, she stared up at him as he smiled and he removed the sword away from her. He held out his hand and she stared up at him, his hair seemed to appear redder in the sun and his blue eyes were lit up. He was handsome… painfully handsome. Heart pounding in her chest, Zhalli allowed him to help her to her feet and she listened to his praises, and his constructive criticism. Taking it all in, eyes closing as she found herself a little distracted.
Zhalli stared at herself, blinking at her reflection that floated in the bowl set up for warriors to wash themselves after training. Her hands were placed on the edge of the stone bowl, her hair was falling loose out of her tie. Some of her hair stuck to her face and neck, due to the sweat she had worked up when fighting with her husband. Blinking slowly, she moved one hand to the water and felt the coolness rush over her. She then placed her other hand in the bowl and cupped the water, letting cupping it to let the water slide over her shoulders.
"You fight very well," she heard her husband compliment and she looked up at him. Water dripped down her skin, a droplet of water sliding down the bridge of her nose. He reached out suddenly and she did not have it within her to back away, he rubbed his thumb against the bridge of her nose, getting rid of the drop of water. "Apologies," he then said, "There was a drop of water."
"It's fine," she then cleared her throat, straightening her shoulders. "Thank you, you are a strong warrior as well. Fit for the position of Khal."
"Thank you," her husband furrowed his dark brows together.
He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted, "Khaleesi Zhalli," she flinched at the title, blinking slowly as she faced one of the men she had grown up with. "Your father wishes to speak with you."
"Thank you," she then acknowledged him by nodding, a frown on her face as the man walked away. "I must see what my father wants," she then said, before turning away from her husband and leaving to find her father instead. What could he want?
Zhalli found her father standing with a few bloodriders, they spoke in low, hushed tones and she stood at the edge, clearing her throat. "Zhalli," her father mused as he spotted her.
"Father," she straightened her shoulders, tilting her chin up to show him she was not intimidated. "You needed me?"
"I did," he then frowned at her. "I saw your training with your husband. You cannot think he will allow you to fight?"
"I-I," she hated the way her father managed to belittle her. "I assure you that my husband does not dictate my decisions in life, Father."
"Perhaps he should," Ifakko could be very condescending.
"Father, would you have stopped Mother from fighting?" She was tired, he had trained her to be strong – he supported her to fight, he had trained her since she was young. Yet, since she had married he had grown to believe that she needed to provide her husband with a child immediately.
"Yes," her father frowned at her. "Of course I would have. Your mother would not have pushed it either, she would have listened to me. And she did, as soon as she became with child she no longer fought and raided."
"Why do you not speak of her?" Zhalli suddenly challenged, eyebrows pulled together. "I hardly know much of her, you never speak of her. And I cannot speak with her brother, he is our Khal."
Ifakko pressed his lips together, "I don't wish to speak about her. I refuse to speak about her. Do you understand me?"
"No, I don't," she scowled.
"You will, if you grow to love your husband and lose him," her father shook his head. "I need to leave," he then said and hurried away quickly, dodging Zhalli who wanted to ask her father move questions.
Zhalli knew that her father loved her mother, she vaguely remembered watching their loving embraces. She vaguely remembered her mother berating Khal Drogo, who was her older brother, and she remembered Khal Drogo being a better uncle to her. Now he was distant, after her mother had died and Zhalli had been left with her father. Now she felt alone within her family, even having her husband did not improve the feeling of loneliness that seemed to weigh on her heart. Turning her head, she let her hair fall over the front of her shoulders and hurried away from the training ground.
Heading back inside the palace that now houses Zhalli, she wandered through the halls and heard a cry. Pausing, she turned her head and peered into one of the doors to notice Vorsakko, Najaho and their mother sitting together by a water fountain. Daenerys was holding her youngers son, smiling at him as he splashed in the water. Pausing, Zhalli wondered if she should find her husband – or at least distract herself, it was best that she did not bother the Khaleesi. She probably had much on her mind, a family member she had thought dead had risen from the dead.
As she turned to walk away, she heard someone address her, "Zhalli." She then heard someone clear their throat, "Khaleesi, come in." She was a bit surprised at Irri who stepped back to allow Zhalli to pass. She was also surprised at the title, but should she have been surprised?
"Thank you, Irri," Zhalli smiled at her tensely, before her eyes darted to Daenerys. "Khaleesi," she stepped closer.
"Irri spotted you lurking in the doorway," Daenerys smirked a little. "I invited you inside, is there something you wish to speak about?"
"I am… unsure," she murmured softly, rubbing her hands together.
"Come, sit," the Khaleesi urged, motioning beside herself.
Zhalli did as she asked, slowly sitting beside the Khaleesi, "Thank you." Zhalli said to her, smiling at Najaho who was staring up at her, unblinkingly.
"You do not need to thank me, we are equals now," Khaleesi bounced her son slightly. "And you are family."
"Yes," Zhalli said slowly. "Khal Drogo is the brother to my mother." Zhalli furrowed her brows, "Has he ever spoken of my mother?"
"It is not often that he speaks of his family," Daenerys admitted, smoothing out Najaho's hair as Vorsakko continued to play naked in the fountain.
"My father is the same," Zhalli frowned as she looked down at her hands. "I am… conflicted."
"Why so?" Daenerys allowed one of the women to take Najaho from her as she urged Vorsakko out of the fountain.
"I do not wish for a child, not yet," she admitted. "I take moon tea, a Westeros medicine to stop pregnancy. But I…" she frowned. "Father says I should give my husband an heir as soon as possible, especially as he is a Khal and it is important should he fall in battle. And he does not want me to fight."
"I cannot tell you what to do," the Khaleesi then said as she helped Vorsakko dress. Zhalli's thoughts turned when to when she had seen the child stick his hand inside the fire and it had not burned. "But it should be something you discuss with your husband."
"I have tried," Zhalli was getting frustrated. "He would rather me not take moon tea. But I must fight, I must take back his land for him."
Khaleesi had a smile upon her face, "That is a noble decision, Khaleesi Zhalli." Daenerys reached out to part Zhalli's hand that rested on the edge of the fountain.
"Yes," her shoulders slumped. "But I am not sure they see it that way. Father thinks I am being selfish. Perhaps I am. Is it not the job of a Khaleesi to give a child to her Khal?"
"It is her job," Daenerys said carefully. "But that does not mean it is her only job. Do not take the moon tea," Daenerys then suggested. "If you are lucky the Great Stallion will prevent you from having a child until your Khal has his lands back."
"I hope so," Zhalli still appeared conflicted.
"What else is on your mind?" Khaleesi asked as they watched her children be led away.
"I find myself thinking of my mother," Zhalli admitted, staring down at the water and she began to drag her fingers along the surface of the water. "I hardly know of her and it bothers me."
"I understand," Daenerys mused. "But did you not have her in your life as a child?"
"I just, wish I knew more," Zhalli rubbed the back of her neck. "I would speak to Khal Drogo if I was sure that he would provide me with answers… but he will not, will he?"
"I cannot tell you," the Khaleesi frowned. "He does not like to speak of his family."
"My father is the same," Zhalli's shoulders slumped before she finally asked something she had been wanting to know. "Why was I chosen to marry Khal Robb?"
"We did not have much of a choice," Daenerys admitted. "I was told to make it quick and an offer he could not refuse. I was told to use the daughter of one of my wealthy allies that I have found here in Meereen, or even our allies in Dorne in Westeros. But I did not choose them."
"Why?"
"Because you are a member of my family, my house," Daenerys pursed her lips. "And I do not have much family, I never have." There was a deep sadness in her eyes, "I would rather you marry a foreign King, where I know that you will be loyal to me rather than an ally in Dorne or one of the nobles in Meereen that I am not sure I trust."
"Ah," Zhalli nodded slowly at the explanation.
"Does that help?"
"I don't know." Zhalli looked down at the water, "I really don't know."