I'm back on Tumblr for reasons. Username's imnotoverlyobsessive. Come say hi, I don't talk to anyone except my boyfriend and our cats and it gets hella lonely. Also nobody in my life is as excited about Game of Thrones and/or Daenerys Targaryen as I am and I need to talk to somebody about it. So yeah.

Also, if anyone is reading this and thinking, "is she drawing inspiration from Avatar: The Last Airbender?" then, uh, yes. 100%. I've been watching that show since I was ten years old, and it is deeply ingrained in my mind and has greatly influenced my understanding of story progression, character development, and fighting dynamics. Those of you who are familiar with the show (if you're not, you need to be. It's on Netflix now, so do yourself a favor and go binge it) will definitely see similarities between Daenerys' abilities and firebending.

Chapter Nineteen: Book Learning

I can feel a phoenix inside of me as I march alone to a different beat, slowly swallowing down my fear. I am ready for the road less traveled, suiting up for my crowing battle.- Katy Perry, Who Am I Living For?

Daenerys had a decent understanding of how to engage with someone in hand-to-hand combat. She understood how to fight with a sword, and even an arakh. Learning how to implement fire into those methods of battle, however, was not something with which she was acquainted.

Daenys, on the other hand, knew the techniques well. She couldn't show Daenerys, nor could she spar with her properly; the girl's hand passed right through her if they attempted to touch one another. Still, Daenerys could mimic Daenys' stances and movements better than she could the drawings and diagrams in Harnessing Fire Magic.

Once she knew she was capable of creating and controlling fire, it seemed as natural as breathing. She still had to think about it, but flames erupted from her fingertips without much effort, and she'd managed to throw a ball of fire that would've hit Daenys if her ancestor had been corporeal.

What she was having difficulty with, however, was maintaining a decently sized constant flame.

"Try again," Daenys said.

Daenerys planted her feet firmly on the ground in a position she knew would make it difficult for someone to knock her down. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Focusing solely on her breathing, she took in as much air as her lungs would hold, and then expelled it all through her nose. As she breathed, she listened to her heartbeat regulate, heard it thumping in her chest.

Somewhere near her heart, it burned. Not the unpleasant sort of burning she'd felt when she lost Rhaego. No, this burning was like fire always was to her: comforting and warm.

The fire is within me, she reminded herself. It's in the air. I only need to pull it into being.

Breathing deeply again, Daenerys focused on the burning near her heart. She imagined herself reaching inside her body and pulling it out. On her next exhale, she thrust her hand forward, palm out. Opening her eyes, she saw a stream of flames shoot from her palm.

"Hold it as long as you can," Daenys' voice reverberated through Daenerys, and she flexed her fingers, trying to keep the fire from going out.

She was able to keep it alive much longer than she'd been able to before, perhaps fifteen seconds longer, but she eventually lost focus.

"Better," Daenys praised, but Daenerys let her hand drop to her side. She was worried she'd never be able to control it enough for an actual fight.

"It takes time," her ancestor told her. "Eventually, it will become instinctive. Muscle memory. You won't have to think about it."

"When?"

"How long did it take you to learn to fight with a sword, or with your hands? It wasn't immediate. It takes time. Be patient." At that, Daenerys turned to look at the girl. Her face was kind, a small smile playing on her lips. She was trying to be encouraging, Daenerys knew.

Sighing, she pushed her hair from her eyes. "I know. It's just frustrating."

"I understand, but you'll get better faster than most. It comes naturally to you. It takes many people half their lives to get their magic to the strength yours is at already," Daenys said.

Daenerys shifted her feet. "Really? No one I have ever known has had magical abilities, so it's not something you really hear about."

Daenys nodded. "Yes, magic is almost dead in this time, it would seem. Although…" she turned her glowing eyes towards the dragon eggs behind her. "I think it's meant to come back."

Daenerys followed her gaze. "I'll need to hatch them, won't I?"

"Yes."

"How? My great-grandfather, Aegon V, he tried to hatch dragon eggs, but something went wrong and people were burned alive as a result. I don't know what I did that allowed my children to be born, so how can I do it again?" Daenerys asked.

Daenys tilted her head to the side in thought, her translucent hair falling in front of her face. After several long moments, she spoke. "All the dragons I saw hatch in my lifetime were born within a blazing fire. I've never seen a dragon hatch without a fire mage controlling the flames. The books will tell you more, I'm sure, but I think that your dragons hatched because you were there with them."

Nodding, Daenerys said, "I'll read more about it. I'm sure they'll give detailed instructions." At Daenys' nodded response, Daenerys smiled. "Shall I try again?"

Daenerys wasn't sure how long she'd been in the room beneath the old Targaryen house. It was hard to tell; her body's needs ceased within its walls. It must have been some time, though, because she had gotten significantly better. Muscle memory was beginning to kick in, and she could maintain a flame for much longer.

As part of her training, Daenys had had her maintain a conversation while keeping a fire alive in each hand. The first several times, the flames had gone out as soon as Daenerys stopped thinking about them. Eventually, though, she was able to move them to the back of her mind, and after a few attempts, they continued to burn without her thinking about them at all.

Sometimes, while they conversed, Daenys would attempt to strike Daenerys without warning (of course, she wasn't able to actually strike, but, as she put it, it was about teaching Daenerys reflexes more than anything else), and after awhile, Daenerys didn't just block her blows with her arms and legs, but with the fire she held.

Daenys told her of Valyria, of what it had once been. She spoke of her family, of the children she'd had, and of the dragons she'd known. All the while, Daenerys kept the fire in her hands.

It was during one of these conversations that Daenerys heard a screeching from outside.

There was another screech, and then a shouted, "Khaleesi!"

Daenerys whipped her head towards the stairwell, quickly getting to her feet.

"Ser Jorah?" Daenys questioned, having been told of the knight.

"It would seem so. I don't know how he found-" something cut off her words, a voice in her mind. No, three voices. Three she knew and loved so well.

Mother. There was the screeching again.

"It wasn't him," Daenys said. "It was your dragons."

Daenerys started up the stairs, heading towards the shouting. Daenys followed close behind, walking with her feet several inches from the floor.

"It was good to speak to someone again, but it was wonderful to speak to my own descendant." Daenerys turned around, halfway up the stairs. She looked down at her ancestor, a couple steps below her. "You have been found, my friend. We must now part ways."

"I hate to leave you here all alone, but…" Daenerys trailed off.

Daenys smiled. "I'm only alone in this world, not in the next."

Relieved, Daenerys nodded and turned back around, practically flying up the stairs. She raced through the grand room, reaching the door beneath the dragon archway. There was a translucent hand on her shoulder again, and Daenerys looked over her shoulder.

"We will meet again, Daenerys."

Daenerys smiled at the girl, and then opened the door, stepping out into the sunlight.

"Ser Jorah!" She called out.

"Khaleesi!" Was the answering yell, quickly followed by a screeching from high above. Looking up, she fixed her gaze on three silhouettes zooming towards her.

Her children had grown slightly, she noted as they landed at her feet. They nuzzled her affectionately, and she scratched underneath their chins.

"I have missed you, my darlings," she whispered.

"Khaleesi," Ser Jorah rounded a corner, panting. He bounded towards her. "I'm relieved to see you well."

"And I you," she smiled, one hand stroking Rhaegal's head. "How many did we lose in the storm?"

"The storm dissipated not long after you floated away, Khaleesi," he told her. "We lost none, though a couple of ships did sustain minor damage. Nothing we weren't able to repair at sea, however."

Daenerys nodded, pleased at the news. "And how long has it been since the storm?"

He looked down at her, clearly confused. He didn't question her, of course. "A little less than a week. We might never have found you if it hadn't been for your dragons."

"No?" She raised an eyebrow at him. He opened his mouth to speak again, but at that moment, a couple of Dothraki warriors bounded around the corner.

"Khaleesi!" One of the men exclaimed.

"The dragons," the other said. "They forced the captain to steer us here! Screamed at him until he complied!"

She turned to her children. "Did you?"

They didn't look the least bit guilty.

Sighing, she lifted her gaze to the knight. "How many men did you bring with you, Ser Jorah?"

He blinked. "A dozen Dothraki, Khaleesi."

"Good. We'll need a great many empty crates," she informed him.

"Crates?" He questioned.

"Indeed," she said with a nod. "I have found some new cargo."

And there we go! God, I have trouble with fleshing out chapters. Why do I suck so much at that? Oh well. I'm doing my best. Sorry my best isn't all that great. I hope you got some enjoyment out of this one nonetheless.