AN: Obligatory thanks.

Rhaenys IX

"Thank you, Feraya," Rhaenys said after the young handmaiden finished brushing her hair.

Feraya nodded with a smile. "O-of course, You Grace."

Chuckling, Rhaenys turned in her chair to face the young girl, her legs dangling off the armrests while she placed her arms on its back and rested her chin on her arms. "'Your'. Not 'you'. But your mother was right: you are, indeed, a quick learner."

Feraya was beaming now. "Thank you, You – Your Grace!"

"How are you getting along with Minela?" Rhaenys asked as she threw one leg over the other.

"She is nice," Feraya said while putting the brush away, "but she is sad a lot. And she has bad dreams a lot. She wants to hold me when she sleeps."

Rhaenys sighed, her brows furrowed. "Is she getting better? At All?"

Her handmaiden shook her head. "No, Your Grace. Maybe a little bit."

"I understand. Thank you." She got up from her chair and pulled Feraya into her arms, startling the young girl visibly. "Thank you for helping Minela. I am proud of you." Rhaenys then broke their embrace, her little handmaiden red in her face and with a shy smile.

"Th-thank you, Your Grace…"

"You are welcome. And dismissed, for now. Go and break your fast."

With a bow, Feraya left and closed the door behind her and left Rhaenys alone to her thoughts.

Sometimes she wondered if Minela living in this manse with them was just another cruelty on top of cruelties for the former slave. Living here and seeing the life she had suffered through, but from the perspective of comfort, could not be easy. Had it been a mistake to live here? Did their good intentions lead to more pain for Minela?

She glanced at the armour, beautifully crafted and polished. An expensive gift. A gift fit for a Targaryen king. Aegon had also replaced her uncle's gift – the sword he had bought in Braavos – with his new Valyrian steel sword. All these wonderful and priceless gifts they had accepted from slave owners did not make them any less tainted. Not at all. But it had been a necessary mummery. Allowing those terrible people to try and get in their good graces with coin, finery, gems, statues, Qohorik armour and a Valyrian steel sword had been necessary as they now had the means to proceed with the next steps of achieving their goals.

She thought of Minela again. Hopefully, the poor girl would not think them cruel. After all, they wanted to help. They wanted to help her and many more like her. Some would say that it was a foolish dream, a child's dream, but it was more than that. It was a dream of a better world, a dream where a child would not be taken from its mother's breast to be put in chains.

She hoped Minela would see that when the time came.

They had not had the opportunity yet to see much of the city since their arrival. Accompanied by her uncle and, much to her annoyance, Ser Barristan, they decided to take the time to do so, for once.

The houses were tightly packed together, framing narrow streets paved with brick stone. Roofs, shaped somewhere between onions and domes, were visible in the distance, towering over the other buildings. She assumed they might belong to the goat-god's temple. The colours did not differ much, after all. Those roofs were all coloured like sand, with shades of red and yellow thrown in.

They took a leisurely stroll through the city, taking their time to marvel at the sights and observe its people. It was no difficult task to distinguish the commoners from the nobles and it was easy to see where the smallfolk settled and where the rich folk lived. Tychor's manse was located in an area where many other smaller nobles established their homes. While nowhere near as huge as the magister's manse, their houses were still made of the same polished stone with trees and flowers decorating the entrances she had seen. What stood out most, however, were the slaves. It was always the slaves that made one's status obvious the most.

They had left the streets filled with nobles and magisters behind them already. Rhaenys certainly did not mind; she had seen more than her fair share of them and she was quickly getting tired of gazing at their oily and coloured hairs and beards – not to mention their slaves.

The common people had no dye in their hair or beards and were dressed in simple garbs made of cheap fabrics. Tattered and torn were their clothes, their skin weathered by the heat of the sun, especially the elders.

The commoners' district was a lot more interesting to her than the nobles', magisters' and merchant princes, however.

What stood out to her, at first, were the numerous guards armed with spear and shield. They were stationed all across the city and standing rigidly still. She had seen them before. When they had freshly arrived in Qohor, these guards had been with Tychor and his Soothsayer. Also, when they had left for and returned from the Forest of Qohor, these guards were stationed as they were now. If she did not know any better, she would believe these soldiers to never move from their positions at all. They appeared immobile, like statues made of skin and flesh.

"These are the Unsullied, Your Graces," her uncle explained, "now that we have time for you to get a proper first glimpse of them. During my travels, when I was younger, I had seen them participate in battle before. They are still as impressive a sight now as they had been then."

Aegon glanced curiously at one of the Unsullied guards standing by a corner. "May I ask them questions? Or is it forbidden?"

"Whether or not it is forbidden doesn't matter," Uncle Oberyn said. "They only answer to their current master. I don't know much about the details of their training, but I do know that they won't answer any questions – I have tried it myself. They only exist to follow orders. Not even names do they have to call their own. Only their weapons."

Rhaenys breathed out heavily through her nose. "I'm getting angry again. Let us move on."

And they did so, but the Unsullied were stationed everywhere, unmoving, unwavering. Not even their eyes seemed to follow them. Nothing appeared to garner any sort of reaction from the eunuchs.

"Pure and utter discipline," Ser Barristan muttered. "Stripped of all semblance of one's self." He sounded a bit disturbed and she could hardly blame him for it.

Tearing her eyes away from the numerous eunuch soldiers, she instead forced herself to see the dark beauty of Qohor – if one ignored the ugliness of the countless slaves, collared and chained and led like cattle to carry their masters' burdens. If one ignored that, there were still the children running around and playing outside, there were the small vendors with their fruit stands. But – and that was the dark side of the city's beauty – there were also small houses with covered windows where murmured, muffled chants could be heard from within. There were strange men and women selling even stranger items. One man sold small effigies shaped like humans. She spotted small, tied red bags of a cheap-looking fabric, which appeared to have been filled with different things. Rhaenys could see a pale woman with dark hair and darker lips prepare such a bag with spices, seeds and small white fragments. Bone, mayhap? She neither could nor did she want to say. She also spotted various, small statues of the Qohorik goat-god. Another vendor sold small animal bones – or Rhaenys hoped so at least – and animal paws, tied to a thin rope. She saw some people wearing them like a necklace or tying them to their clothes like an ornament of sorts.

She saw old women tossing white and red and black powders at people standing in a row, chanting while they did so.

Their group made sure not to get hit.

They then reached the city's centre, the large plaza and its blackened stone and white platform with the towering statue of the Black Goat.

A large mass of people was gathered around it and a man robed in black and white was leading a calf to the white platform the statue was standing on. He was taking the steps slowly and the calf was starting to strain on the chain a bit. It was as if it knew what was to come. Rhaenys certainly did.

Once on the platform, the man guided the calf, so that its head was above the basin. He pulled out a long knife with a bone handle from within his robes, held it high for everyone to see and then loud bells chimed, a deep, almost ominous clanging that echoed through the silence of the plaza. They chimed once, twice, thrice and after the third and last chime, the man placed the blade on the calf's throat and sliced it clean through. Blood gushed out immediately, starting to fill the basin. Then, murmured prayers followed, the people holding both their hands high and facing the statue.

Rhaenys winced at the dead calf, but at least it had not been a human sacrifice. She looked at the statue and frowned. It could have been a trick of the sun, but, for the briefest of moments, she was sure that the eyes had been glowing.

"Well, now we've also seen this, I suppose," Dany muttered. "Let us move on."

"This city is unlike anything I have ever seen," Aegon wondered aloud, his brows furrowed.

Rhaenys agreed with a nod. "But I am much more interested in these things."

She pointed at a man who gestured around a burning brazier with his hands, shaping the flame into all kinds of animals; a fox, a hound, a steed. Then he commanded it to form a dragon taking flight. With a motion of his hands, the fire-dragon disappeared in pale wisps of smoke before reappearing above them in the skies, only many times larger. The mage was thrusting his arms downwards and the fire-dragon dove towards the gathered spectators. Rhaenys could swear she was hearing it roar. The crowd began to scream and cover their heads and suddenly it was gone and the fire returned to the brazier.

"Only Dany hatching the eggs was more impressive than this," Aegon remarked.

Dany beamed at him with cheeks dusted a pretty red before squinting her eyes at something in the distance. "What is that?"

Rhaenys followed her gaze and spotted a small, red structure, almost hidden between the other buildings if it weren't for the colouring and the roof. "I am curious as well. Let us go and see."

They walked past the many Qohorik in the grand plaza, their knights careful to not lose sight of them. Uncle Oberyn was holding tightly onto her shoulder. She could not even pretend to be annoyed, for it gave her a sense of security.

Ser Barristan did the same for Dany and her little brother was just holding onto the hilt of his new Valyrian steel sword. The building got lost from sight because of the mass of people, but they soon reached the edge of the Plaza, where the crowd was thinning again. The small temple was sitting between many shops and was rather small, but its distinctively red stones and ornate dome-shaped roof helped it stand out. Otherwise, one might mistake it for another shop. There were also a couple of banners depicting a heart engulfed in fire framing the entrance.

"Ah, a Red Temple," her uncle said, chuckling as he recognized it. "How insultingly small and what a terrible location. The Red Temple in Oldtown's wharfside was grander than this sorry excuse." He laughed. "The Red Priests here must hate this."

"There is only little we can do," a voice behind them said, "but we make do with what we have been granted by the City of Qohor and its goat priests. Whatever it takes to spread the glory of the Lord of Light."

Rhaenys turned to see a man clad in a crimson robe walk past them. She could not make out his face because of the hood covering his head, and his hands were tucked in the wide sleeves of his robe. Only when he removed his hands from his sleeves and pulled his hood back did she notice that he was a plain man with sharp, pale features and short shaven black hair. His eyes were as dark as obsidian and unsettling.

"It is an honour to meet you, Mother of Dragons." He inclined his head at Dany. "And your beloved," he added, inclining his head at Aegon and her as well.

"I suppose news as such is bound to travel rather quickly." Aegon huffed. He was clearly displeased about how quickly this news travelled. He worried a lot.

"Few in Qohor wish to engage with a servant of R'hllor." His smile was easy as he cocked his head. "The Lord of Light has shown me your journey and your arrival in Qohor. His flames did not lie. They never do."

"'His flame?'" Jon repeated. "I do not understand. If no one told you of us, how could you know? Surely you would have heard others talk."

"I doubt it is that easy, Your Grace," her uncle spoke. "In Norvos and Qohor especially, the Cities are rather strict when it comes to the freedom of religion."

The priest chuckled. "Indeed, my Prince. We had to make...certain concessions to be allowed to keep our temple. Only few visit it." He then turned to Aegon. "As for your question, Your Grace: the Lord of Light allows us glimpses at events yet to come. They are always right. How they are interpreted, however, depends entirely on his servants."

Aegon remained sceptical. "You see things in fire?"

"We only see what the Lord of Light allows us to see."

"Sounds like witchery."

The smile on the red priest's face did not waver whatsoever. "It is much more than that, Your Grace. If you wish, I can show you." He indicated the entrance to the Red Temple with a hand, but Aegon shook his head.

"Thank you for your offer, but we have seen enough of the city for today." He motioned for them to head back, and Dany and she shrugged their shoulders.

"If you wish," Rhaenys said.

"Very well, Your Graces." The priest looked them over once more, lingering on Dany. "And we thank you, Mother of Dragons. The magic you have seen today is only possible thanks to you hatching your children."

Rhaenys raised a brow at Dany, but she did not notice. Instead, her aunt just gave the man a weak smile before her eyes lingered on the temple.

Her body was still shivering in pleasure. Dany was resting half on top of her, their naked bodies tightly pressed against each other. Rhaenys had her arms wrapped around Dany's neck as they enjoyed a slow, sensual kiss. Next to them, after rolling off of her, Aegon was trying to catch his breath. She giggled into Dany's lips. Hopefully, they weren't wearing Aegon out too much. Her poor little brother had to handle both Dany's and her carnal appetite after all. So far, he appeared to be up to the task and admirably so – even if he forgot himself. A lot.

"Aegon…" She raised a brow at him with a teasing smile. Now that the fog of lust and passion was clearing again, she could feel the sticky mess in between her legs. Not that she actually minded too much.

"...I am terrible, Rhaenys. I apologize."

She sighed, then turned her head to him and touched his cheek with her hand, showing him the affection she had grown to feel for him. "I would not mind if your seed quickens and I surely would not be angry about it. You are my husband. I will bear sons and daughters for you. Uncle Oberyn might be angry at first, but that anger would wane quickly. He loves children almost as much as Uncle Doran. However...getting pregnant now would make many things more difficult. We cannot always rely on luck." Then she grinned. "And we, surely, are not absolved of blame. Are we, Dany?"

She looked at her aunt and her sparkling, violet eyes. Dany just giggled.

"It does feel so much better when you finish inside, nephew."

"That it does."

"Both of you are terrible," Aegon complained with a groan before turning towards them. "If it happens, we do have ingredients for moon tea, do we not?"

Rhaenys frowned. "Yes, but I would not want to drink it. I would much prefer to carry a child, no matter the potential hardships."

"I agree," Dany said. "Even though we try – albeit badly – to avoid pregnancy...if it were to happen, I would wish to see it through rather than ending it."

"Prince Oberyn would not like it."

"No, he would not. He would rant and rave for a while, then he would return to his usual self." She smiled at him. "We are husband and wives. We are supposed to have children."

"Yes, but –"

"– but now would not be the best time," Dany interrupted him, " we know. If it were to happen, however, and your seed quickens in one of us, or even both of us, would you rather hold your son or daughter in your arms in the end or would you rather have us forcibly bleed them out because it is more convenient?"

Aegon glared at her. "That's not fair, Dany."

"All we are saying is that we'll try and be more careful, but if it happens it happens."

"I suppose that's the best we can do." He then gave a tired laugh and rubbed his face with his hands. "Which is very little."

Rhaenys grinned teasingly at Aegon. "We cannot be good at everything, little brother." She then turned to her aunt and pulled her closer, Dany's legs on each side of her hips while she was lying flat on her torso. Unable to resist, Rhaenys reached her hands down and cupped Dany's buttocks before giving them a thorough squeeze. "A work of art," she praised, making Dany squirm and snort. Now it was time for a serious question, however. "Did you want to see the Red Temple, Dany? When the priest invited us inside?"

"You did?" Aegon turned on his side, placing his hand on Dany's back. "You should have said something."

Their aunt sighed and shrugged. She didn't say anything for a while. Rhaenys only felt the gentle caresses of her breath on her chest.

"When I hatched the dragons...what was the fire like?" Dany asked, finally breaking the silence.

Rhaenys felt confused at the question and shared a look of bewilderment with Aegon. Deciding to indulge Dany, however, she did her best to remember. "It was...too hot, too bright and it surely should not have been enough to burn two bodies to ashes." Thinking of Nilira made her heart clench for a moment and she felt and heard Dany's soft sob.

"I remember it rising and rising, until it reached impossibly high into the night sky. That should not have been possible," Aegon added, quickly moving the conversation forward. She was grateful for that.

"Did...did you see anything in the fire?"

"Like what?" Aegon asked confusedly.

"I'm assuming you saw things, Dany?" Rhaenys, while inwardly worried, did her best to sound as gentle and soft as she wanted to sound.

"...yes. I thought nothing of it at first!" Dany quickly added, lifting her head from her chest and looking at them with wide eyes. "I promise, I thought nothing of it and was not trying to keep secrets!"

"We believe you, Dany," Aegon reassured her, inching closer to kiss her. "We believe you and trust you unconditionally."

Nodding with a weak smile, she rested her head on her chest again and sighed. "I saw...I saw all manners of things and they appeared random and unimportant at the time. Beautiful even. Cities, animals...but when that priest said that – that they are shown things in fire…" She chuckled, though it lacked energy and humour. "They supposedly see the future, however. I just...I don't even know what I saw that night."

"We can visit the temple tomorrow, if you wish," Rhaenys offered. She was curious as well. It might have been nothing, what Dany had seen that night. Or, it might have been everything. Likely something in between, however.

Dany shook her head. "No, no. Thank you, my loves, but...I would rather just focus on the Wolf Pack and our next steps instead of chasing after potentially nothing." Sliding down from her, Dany nestled herself between Aegon and her before grabbing the blanket and pulling it over them. "I am tired now."

Rhaenys smiled and scooted closer towards her brother, effectively trapping their aunt between them. Neither Aegon nor she was tall but, between them, Dany appeared positively tiny. Her slender figure only helped with that impression. It made her smile turn to a grin. She felt Aegon's arm on her waist, a source of comfort, and, before long, his thumb gently stroking her skin and Dany's slowing, deepening breaths on her chest lulled her into sleep.

Her steps echoed as if she was walking through a great, cavernous hall. She saw nothing, however. Her world was dark and black, wherever she looked. Faint and soft cries called for her. She hastened her steps, closing in on the sound.

"I'm so sorry! They made me!" Cries, dripping with shame and sadness.

Then, silence. The voice was gone. A shocked gasp escaped her when she slid to a halt. Suddenly, in her eternal darkness, there were two young wolves, caged and locked away. She took a step closer and the cries returned once more. It was the same, small voice, but it sounded and it felt different.

"Please!" Cries, as if in pain. The sound of a slap echoed through the vast nothingness. She looked around, but could not pinpoint where it was coming from. "Please!" Cries, repeating desperately. Another loud slap.

The wolves whined. There was an air of defeat surrounding them and their fur was matted and dirty. They looked thin and there was blood on their paws.

Then, out of nowhere, the cage's door opened.