I was In my painfully quiet rooms alone, my hangover long gone, but nausea still filled me. I had sent away everyone, including my newly appointed handmaidens. I kneeled beside my bed, the Seven Pointed Star open before me. I read the words in earnest, despite knowing every one of them was burned into my head. I longed for a weir wood, and briefly wondered if Daenerys would agree to let me go to Braavos and visit the House of Black And White for their weirwood face. I shook my head, my loose hair flying every which way from the action.
We had returned to Meereen seven days ago, and I had locked myself in my rooms. I had guards posted outside my doors, saying I wasn't to be bothered from praying unless the stars were falling from the Heavens themselves. Everyone seemed to accept that, as I had only heard one argument outside. It had been between Tyrion and Daenerys, but it quickly ended when Tyrion explained I was convening with the Gods again. Daenerys seemed to have realized she couldn't interrupt such a thing, and I haven't heard her voice since.
I prayed for everything under the sun in that time. My knees and back were sore, and I could feel my throat becoming raw from not speaking, but I kept on. I fell asleep kneeling, and as soon as I woke I prayed. The servants wouldn't bother me for simple things like refilling my water. I kept it beside me, multiple jugs coming and going throughout the day. I would stand to stretch and collect the fresh water and leave out the empty containers. They also left out light meals at first, but realized after three days it was for naught. I always left them and they went to waste.
I took a large drink of water, and repressed vomit that came from the hunger. I wondered idly if it mattered that I starved myself for seven days and nights while I flipped through the holy text before me, for all the help I got from it. I focused on the passages of the Mother the most, hoping to find something in her Mercy, in the beginning. When that failed, I looked to the Crone and her Wisdom. I wept heavily for days, not finding a single word to help my grief. It was an emotion I detested heavily, for all the weakness that came with it.
Then, I turned to the Father and Warrior. I felt myself shying, but pressed on. I ignored my mother telling me women didn't pray to them, we prayed to the Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Silent Sisters prayed and belonged to the Stranger, and men prayed to the Father, Warrior, and Smith.
I needed justice, I needed strength and courage. I clutched the top of my head and prayed with everything I had to them. I prayed to the Smith as well, to help repair the brokenness in my soul. I prayed to the male facets of the Seven for the first time in my life, and instantly felt my spirit lifting. It was almost a magical feeling, washing over me in a breathtaking way. I wept again, this time from gratefulness.
It was in that feeling I could feel the entirety of the Seven helping me. I closed my eyes and saw the Crone's lantern, and the Mother and Father were whispering in my ear. I realized the beatings on my person and soul were the Smith preparing me for what was to come. The Maiden wept, but it was with the a grace I could only hope to hold one day. It was for my innocence and the childhood I was robbed of. I held on for an entire day and night, my entire body aching but my mind free and taking every feeling the Gods gifted me. I knew what it was They wanted, in penance for my recent actions, and was ready for it.
When there was a knock on my door the eighth day, I opened it with tired and swollen eyes, but a clear mind.
Daenerys rushed at me, enveloping me in an embrace I willingly returned. When she pulled back, I gripped her hands and brought her to my study. She looked me over carefully, "Are you hungry? Do you need to see someone? Tyrion told me sometimes the fasting and praying constantly was hard on the body, and I know you've done it twice in the last month," she said in concern. I laughed, wiping the tears from my eyes and shaking my head.
"I could do with a light supper, but beyond that I'm fine," I reassured her. She looked at one of the servants I hadn't realized followed us, and she nodded and went off. I sniffled and stared at my lap, shame running through me. "I'd like to apologize for my previous actions, Dany," I whispered. She came to stand beside where I sat, and took my hands in her own. "There's nothing to forgive, Raenara. It is I who should be apologizing. You are the sister of my soul, and what I have done is unforgivable. I should have consulted you about having Nathyn go to Doran."
I raised my eyes to hers, and saw the honesty in them. I stood and hugged again. When I released her, I looked her straight in the eye. "My son will be safe in Dorne. I don't question that. It is the one kingdom that didn't submit to force, so the Lannister's have no chance of getting to him there. It hurts me that you did it without any notice or asking my opinion, but I understand the reasoning. He is out of the midst of war, which is more than I could say he would be with us or in the North," I admitted in a thick voice. It hurt my throat to speak so much after going so long without saying a single word, but it needed to be said. May the Mother grant me her Mercy, and the Warrior lend me his Strength to do so, I repeated in my head.
Suddenly, the servant Dany had sent for food returned, and placed the food on my desk. I sat and watched my cousin sit in front of me. I nibbled on bread and butter, paying close attention to how my stomach handled substance after going so long without so much as a cracker. I noticed she was eyeing me warily, and tried to reassure her with a smile. I knew she didn't believe it, so I scooped the stew with the bread and choked it down. I then pushed the tray away, feeling the nausea take hold once again.
"Is this really what worshipping the Seven requires?" Dany asked quietly, in a hesitant voice. I shook my head, "The only times I've felt the need to fast and pray is the twice here, and the Seven days and nights after Jon left Winterfell. Most who follow the Faith never feel the need to do so," I explained softly. She looked at me wth curiosity, and I knew the question burning in her mind.
"It seems the man is at the forefront of your greatest distresses." She commented offhandedly. I took a deep breath, and thought about my words before speaking them.
"It's more… The distresses surrounding us both," I finally spoke. She looked confused, so I shrugged. "My first fast came from guilt, for what I had done. I sent him North, instead of allowing him to go South with his brother. It was more for penance than guidance, truthfully," I admitted.
"Do you think lives would have been saved if he went South? Or would he have died in the Red Wedding alongside his brother and goodsister?" Dany asked me. I shook my head, "Jon wouldn't have been invited to the Red Wedding. He wasn't allowed at Roberts Greeting Feast, Catelyn Stark saying it would be an insult. There's no way in hell Jon would have been allowed at her brothers wedding," I explained.
It was a wonder to me how I could continue to try and play the game after my religious epiphany.
"I would have killed him if he went though. Because, he surely would have been allowed in the tents outside the Twins, and there was almost just as much bloodshed there as there was inside," I granted. She looked at me with a decisive look, then poured herself wine and dismissing the two people in the room.
"I killed my husband," she admitted in a whisper. I held back a gasp and allowed her to continue. "I spoke against rape and murder in a village my husbands Khalasar had just defeated, in a loose sense. My husband, the true man he was, told his men I was their Khaleesi, and my word was as good as his own most times. He ended up fighting another man, and pushed himself against the other mans arakh in a show of power. It wasn't much of a cut, but it lead to an infection. He refused to treat it, and he was dying. I made a deal with a witch, and traded my sons life for my husbands. Except, when I woke, my husband didn't have a life. Not truly. He was unresponsive, and would never be the same as he was. The witch told me, 'When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before'," she took a deep breath.
I had heard Daenerys was infertile after a pregnancy gone horribly wrong, but never knew the details. She was continuing before I could comment.
"I spent weeks despairing over him. I bathed him, I fed him food and water. I gave my own sons life for his, and I had hoped he would return to me despite her words. Finally, I accepted he wouldn't, and I smothered him with a pillow."
For the first time in the months I had known my cousin, my sister in truth, I watched her cry. I held her hands, lost for words to comfort her. She gripped my hands tightly, almost painfully, but I didn't pull away.
"I let him go, to ride with his ancestors, and in that fire I hatched our dragons," she finally spoke again. I pulled her to me, her head on my shoulder while I ran my hand up and down her back. The Dragon Queen, the woman who had more braids than I could ever hope to earn, wept in my arms. I held her tightly as she let her grief out, and I couldn't imagine how many chances she had to do that over the years. Pity didn't fill me, I couldn't imagine that, but sorrow and my own grief did. I could feel her pain almost as if it were my own, and I wished it could be my own, if only to save the woman in my embrace from feeling it.
She finally pulled away, drinking her wine, and I bit the inside of my cheek.
She wiped her cheeks and cleared her throat, and despite her red eyes, she looked every bit the Queen she was. I watched her carefully, suddenly realizing there has to be a reason for this whole thing.
"I'd never keep you from your husband, I'm honestly hurt you think I would," she whispered. I let out a breath and ran a hand through her hair, "It's not… I don't… I'm still new to this royalty thing, and my mother…" I hesitated, biting my lip. She took my hand and gently squeezed, urging me forward. "Marrying Jon was the first thing I had done against her wishes. She was a drunk, and mad, but I always followed her every whim. The only exception up until my marriage was what I did with the money she didn't know I had." I confided.
"How much did she drink?" Daenerys asked quietly. I snorted, "Enough to make Tyrion look like an amateur," I rolled my eyes.
"Well, you'll have time to make your own amendments. For now, though, I need to know something," Daenerys hesitated.
There it was.
I didn't respond, instead just blinking at her. "Ah, you see, twodaysagotheGreyjoyscametoMeereen," she admitted quickly. It took a few seconds for her words to register, but when they did my hearth exploded.
"Rae, please, we need their ships. They brought over a hundred. With their fleet and the Masters, we can go home," she pleaded gently. "But I won't resent you if you say you do not want an alliance with Yara Greyjoy," she added. I stood, and she joined me. "Just give them one chance to talk. You are my heir, though, so your opinion is taken into great consideration."
I looked at her, my mind warring with itself. "I will give her one chance." I finally gave in. She beamed, "Thank you."
I let her loop her arm with my own, and lead me to the Throne room, where there were already people gathered.
My eyes locked with Theon Greyjoy's, and he seemed to double over in his cringe. I dragged my eyes away from him and met his sisters, who met my gaze steadily.
Daenerys lead me to in front of her throne, and I expected her to sit. Instead, she stood by me and kept her arm in my own. Yara spoke, keeping her eyes on me. "I'd like to start this negotiation by giving you two a present, someone I'm sure the Princess would love to have back," She said. I looked around, and watched as two of her men brought in a woman I'd never see again.
Ria knelt before us, sobbing. My breath hitched at the sight of her, dirty and broken. I could smell the stench of her from where I stood, and repressed a gag. Daenerys moves from our arms hooked to holding my hand, and I squeezed it to keep from running to the woman who had made my life hell, yet was the only person who kept me going through it all. "Clean her up and bring her below," I told Grey Worm. He nodded to one of the men nearby, and she was taken away.
Yara watched me with interest, probably because I had just sent my own mother to the dungeons. "If you don't stop staring at me, I'll have your brother sent with her," I snapped. She quickly looked away, her eyes meeting Dany's not long after.
"You Grace, was that a sufficient enough peace offering?" She asked in a deathly quiet tone. I glared outright, but Dany cut off my snappish response before I could get a word out. "That was a gift to my cousin, not myself." She told the Ironborn woman.
"I'd like to interject," Theon stated in a breathy, shaky tone. I looked at him with wide eyes, what the fuck? That wasn't the boy I had watched grow up in Winterfell. That wasn't the broken man I watched follow Ramsay's every order.
Theon was a different type of broken from the last time I saw him, and I felt it hit my gut hard.
Dany looked at me questioningly, and I gave a subtle nod. She turned to Theon, "Go on, Lord Greyjoy," she allowed.
He met my eyes, and I fought a flinch. I clenched my jaw, my breath coming quickly. I could still hear him, "Look at the itty bitty Lady Snow now."
I blinked back tears, gripping Dany's hand hard.
"I would like to offer my most sincere apologies, Lady Raenara. I was a horrible monster, and while the Gods have punished me, it's not near what I deserved for how I treated those in your Keep. Yourself included," he bowed his head. Yara looked affronted at her brothers admission, but didn't say a word. I swallowed a sob, and my mouth dried.
Dany rubbed her thumb on the back of my hand, and I tried to form a thought while I stared into Theon's eyes. My entire body was shaking, every part of me was screaming.
I couldn't do it.
I released Dany's hand forcefully, and covered my mouth. To my horror, a sob ripped from my throat, and Theon almost collapsed at the sound. Dany wrapped an arm around my shoulders, but I shook her off, turning to run out. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see, everything was spinning and I couldn't blame it on wine. I haven't had a drink in over a week, and I desperately needed one.
"Lady Princess, please give him a chance," Yara's voice stopped me. My horror, my grief, my pain instantly burned into anger and I turned back around to glare at her. My feet were moving towards her, and I was in her face.
"You don't get to get to plead on his behalf. He killed my goodbrothers, two little boys not yet ten namedays old between the both of them. Who gave them a chance? Who gave Rodrik a chance? Most definitely not your brother," I hissed.
"I didn't kill Bran and Rickon," Theon choked out. I turned to him, fire exploding from the torches and circling the throne room.
"Why the fuck should I believe you, you fucking turncloak?" I shouted. He cowered pitifully, and I snorted.
"Rickon Stark is at the Dreadfort now, a prisoner of Ramsay Bolton," Yara told me quickly. I turned my glare to her, shaking my head and laughing harshly. The sound bounced off the stone walls, it echoed in the flames I kept at bay. It was a cold, dead sound.
"Why should I believe either of you? He betrayed his family. The father he was raised by, the brothers he grew up with. He is as much of a Northerner as I am, yet he turned against our family faster than your could snap your little fucking fingers."
"We brought you your mother back," Yara's voice was almost pleading now, and I rolled my eyes. "You brought me the abusive drunk-"
Theon fell to his knees, staring at me desperately. "I didn't kill my brothers, Raenara. Our brothers still live, I swear on everything I have."
I sneered, "One if those things ain't your fucking cock, that's for sure." I heard Tyrion snort at that.
"I helped Sansa out of the Dreadfort. Keep me prisoner until she comes," he offered. I walked over and sat cross legged in front of him. He looked pathetic, his eyes sunk in, paler than anyone else I had seen. I ran a hand through my hair, ignoring the urge to vomit on him.
"Just stay the fuck out of my way until then." I relented.
