AN: Obligatory thanks!
Jon X
"What happened to you?" Jon asked Dany, his hands firmly grasping her small and delicate ones after they had broken their embrace.
Rhaenys was still sniffling and Dany's chin was still trembling with emotion. She looked pale – paler than was her usual complexion – and she had dark rings under her eyes.
"I...honestly am not so sure," Dany began, her brows furrowed. "I left the Red Temple and there was this wine stand with this nice, elderly owner. I wanted to try his wine but it must have been poisoned. I woke up in a building with all these nobles and merchant princes. Then my children came to save me. They burned them."
Jon felt a chill run down his spine at the smile that grew on Dany's face when she said that. It was cold and bloodthirsty and, for whatever reason, it fit. It fit Dany, their kind, soft-hearted, sweet Dany. Their gentle aunt, the one both Rhaenys and he had lost their hearts to. And yet, they both knew that something volatile and terrifying was always lurking beneath those soft features, beneath her otherworldly beauty, beneath the pale skin, silver hair and purple eyes. She was a dragon, she was the Mother of Dragons, she was the Unburnt. Dany was everything, ranging from the gentlest and most loving of touches to the most destructive of firestorms.
And he loved all of it.
He pulled her close by their joined hands again and kissed her firmly on her lips, feeling her smile rather than seeing it. When they separated again, he released her hands and held onto her shoulders. "We will not let you out of our sight anymore."
"Not a chance," Rhaenys added in confirmation.
Dany looked annoyed and as if she was dealing with petulant children, which she probably was thinking despite being the youngest. She sighed and relented still. "Fine, have it your way then. I would most likely do the same if I was in your position, but I will not ignore the fact that you had been caught as well."
Jon had to wince at that; she was right after all.
"Five of my men have fallen," Commander Pahryl announced as he approached them, gaining their attention. "If it hadn't been for your beasts it would've been many more. The Unsullied's reputation isn't just mere hearsay, it seems."
"They are not beasts," Dany said sharply, turning to face the giant commander. "They are my children. I walked into a pyre and hatched them myself, with sacrifices and magic!"
"Right." Pahryl raised a brow at her. "Not beasts then. Still, your dragons are unlike anything I have ever seen. I'm glad I'm fighting on their side now."
"They will be key to taking back the Iron Throne," Prince Oberyn supplied, joining them after looking for any survivors who needed to be finished off. "They must be protected until they are big enough to be ridden into battle, as the Targaryens of old had done. By then, they will be nigh unbeatable."
Pahryl shook his head. "They are terrifying now. It's difficult to imagine what they will be like a year from today."
"We're finished here, but we still have business with Malen Sanyr," Jon said, ending the idle chatter. "Someone go the Tychor's manse and –"
"That won't be necessary, your Grace," Ser Barristan spoke up. "These men – these fanatics, they tried to lay siege on the manse to seize your dragons." The old knight couldn't smother his amused smile. "Belwas and I held off what we could, but some of them made it to your chambers. The dragons took offence, apparently, and breathed fire before they flew out in search of Queen Daenerys, I assume."
"You are saying that the manse is burnt down?" Jon was surprised, though he felt like he shouldn't be.
"Yes, your Grace. Feraya, Minela, Belwas and I saved what had not been packed yet. Your most valuable items are all safe as well as most of your finery and other garments and Ser Jorah, who is resting right now."
"Ser Jorah is safe?" Dany asked with obvious relief. "Thank the gods!"
Jon nodded. "Thank you, Ser. I assume Belwas is protecting the handmaidens and the Ser?"
"And the rest of my cavalry should be with them as well," Commander Pahryl added. "If we finish whatever business you have left to finish, we may leave immediately."
"Very well," Jon said with a pleased nod. "Let us head to Malen Sanyr's manse and see if he knows of any...characters who have escaped us. No one conspires against us and lives."
"Heh." The commander sized him up as if he had seen him for the first time. "The little king is growing to be a man."
Jon threw Pahryl a smirk with a quirked eyebrow before they began their march back to the nobility's quarters.
Their dragons took flight and were gliding lazily in the skies above them, but it was still enough for what was visible of the streets to be empty. No commoners were to be seen anywhere, no children, no elderly, no men or women. He could not begrudge their fear, considering what had transpired here, in this city, in the past hours. It was most likely safer for them this way.
They stopped for a few moments for the knights and sellswords to collect their steeds. Dany, Rhaenys and he claimed the horses of the recent dead.
"Did the merchant princes try to force you to hatch their dragon eggs, Dany?" Rhaenys asked after riding for a few minutes in silence.
Dany gave her a curious look. "How did you know?"
"Malen Sanyr's Soothsayer," Jon explained. "When an Unsullied guard brought back Ser Jorah...he was terribly wounded and you were...you were nowhere to be seen." He sighed. "The Unsullied said that it was a magister who had sent him to the manse with Ser Jorah. Then I remembered Malen Sanyr –"
"– who was the one to gift you your sword and urged you to remember him or something to that extent," Dany finished for him.
"Exactly. He has a Soothsayer, as the one Tychor has."
"Had. Tychor died to dragonfire," Dany corrected him. "He was with the ones to abduct me."
Jon scoffed. "Good riddance, then. To finish our tale, the Soothsayer used some kind of magic with bones to find your whereabouts and she told us what the conspirators' motivations were."
"That sounds interesting. I would have liked to see how she did it." Dany looked a bit put out to have missed out on that.
"It was a bit...morbid, to be honest," Rhaenys said with a shudder. "The woman bled out of her eye sockets while the bones moved all by themselves on the table."
"She bled out of her eye sockets?" Dany repeated questioningly, her tone incredulous.
"Aye. She has no eyes," Jon confirmed with a grimace.
"Truly?"
"What was it she had said, Aegon?" Rhaenys asked him. "Something about sacrificing her eyes to see?"
"'A Soothsayer sacrifices her eyes to truly see', I think it was."
"There's a reason why I hate this thrice-damned city," Commander Pahryl groused in his gravelly voice, sitting atop a horse that was somehow managing to bear his fully armoured weight. "Witchcraft, sacrifices, sorcerers, Soothsayers – if they didn't pay as well as they did, I'd stay as far away from Qohor as possible."
Prince Oberyn snickered at Pahryl's words. "Why, one would think those things scare you, Commander."
"Pah!" Commander Pahryl barked a laugh. "Scare me?! Not likely, no. So long as I have a weapon in my hand and within reach, they are just another enemy for me to kill." Then his tone grew serious. "But...there are disturbing tales of people who can do things...and many like to pass by this city because black magic is openly practised here. I've heard from some poor sods who tangled with shadowbinders of Asshai and lived to tell the tale…" A moment of silence followed. "I'll never accept a contract with that city or its citizens."
"I haven't heard of those shadowbinders before," Jon mused. "What is it that makes you this wary of them?"
"They are said to have control over the shadows themselves," one of the sellswords riding close to them explained. Jon turned to his right and saw that he was a man with golden hair and a deep gash running right across his face. It appeared that luck had saved him his nose. "I've heard that the women shadowbinders give birth to all sorts of monsters." He shook his head and muttered a small prayer. "How does one prepare to fight beings which are not even made of flesh and bone?"
"That sounds eerie," Rhaenys commented, "and rather hard to believe."
The sellsword snorted at that. "And yet you have dragons and witnessed magic with your own two eyes."
"How come you and your company were with Ser Barristan anyway, Commander?" Jon asked the giant man, eager to change the topic before the conversation devolved into a debate about the likelihood of women from Asshai giving birth to demons.
"We were just a few hours away from the city by the pace we were going, so I reckoned I'd send a rider ahead to inform you of our arrival." Pahryl chuckled deeply. "Turns out it was a good decision that I reckoned that. My scout nearly killed his bloody horse with the way he was riding the poor thing back and forth that route."
"She's still mad at me, I think," said a young man from behind them with light humour, patting his mare fondly.
"Were any of those dragon eggs alive, Dany?" Rhaenys asked their aunt suddenly.
Dany looked up at the sky, their dragons basking in the slowly setting sun, flying idle circles above them. "They didn't feel right the way Arrax's, Sundancer's and Jadewing's eggs felt. There was...nothing. Nothing at all. They were just stone." She then chuckled ruefully. "I am no expert, of course. I can just tell you what I felt with their eggs –," she indicated her children above, "– and what I didn't feel with the eggs those men wanted me to hatch."
"Good enough for me," Rhaenys said with a sigh. She then looked up to watch their dragons as well. "Sooner or later Jadewing will be fertile though and lay her first clutch of eggs."
Jon smiled at that thought. Then he turned his gaze towards Dany, who was smiling as well. It must be a wondrous thought to have, to be aware that she had brought dragons back single-handedly. He hoped she was proud of herself. He knew he felt nothing but pride for her.
Quite a bit of time had passed before they reached the manses of the city's richest. The district was largely empty, its streets deserted and Jon felt pleased in the knowledge of Dany's role in it. He knew how much she hated these men and their ill-gotten gains. That these merchant princes and magisters then had gone about their way and abducted her...he would shed no tears over their deaths. It was well deserved, every single one of them.
Soon, their group came across the manse with its pathway of red marble stones and the date palm trees framing a white and wooden door, guarded by a couple of obese Unsullied.
Jon dismounted his horse, stroking his flank for a moment, before approaching the guards. "I've come to see Malen Sanyr. Tell him that King Jon Aegon Targaryen is waiting."
This time, there were no issues when one of the guards disappeared inside.
"How come these Unsullied are so obscenely fat?" Daenerys wondered.
"Unsullied have one vice, your Grace," Prince Oberyn explained, "and it is food. When they are used in a private household they might indulge in it."
Daenerys nodded with a frown. "If these were the only Unsullied I had seen in Qohor, I might have been less than impressed."
The white door then opened to reveal Malen Sanyr, who eyed their host of sellswords, knights and dragons – who just landed on the ground in front of some very nervous horses – with a raised brow.
"I see your Queen is safe, your Grace," he commented idly with his eyes firmly on Dany.
"Yes, and many of the ones responsible might still be out and about."
A grin slowly spread on Malen's features. "I can tell you where they will most likely be congregating. Padzhar Palace. It is a rather opulent building. When you reach the Black Goat's statue, there is a street behind it, forbidden to use by the common folk. Follow it, it leads up the hill and –" he stepped out of his manse, carefully as their dragons eyed him warily, before turning around and pointing at a building sitting high above the others, its contours and roofs sharp and not at all in the onion shape they had gotten used to, "– that is where they should be meeting to discuss what to do about you." He then turned to face them again with a shrug. "If they aren't there, I will have to make use of Ahrila again."
"Why not now?" Jon asked him.
"You have seen how straining it is for her to use her gift, have you not?" Malen's tone was sharp and a glare marred his features.
"Of course. I apologize." Jon looked at his dragons, then returned his attention to Malen. "You don't happen to have some meat to feed our dragons with, do you? We would rather avoid them getting so hungry that they resort to feasting on humans."
Malen nodded with a disturbed expression and his skin took on a rather sickly tinge. The man truly had a very weak stomach.
Without haste, they rode through the still deserted streets of Qohor. Only on a couple of occasions did they spot citizens out and about, but they too disappeared quickly in their homes once they spotted their group approaching.
Upon reaching the central plaza with the Black Goat's statue, they rode past it and saw a rather well-hidden and narrow street leading up the hill and towards Padzhar Palace. A large, gorgeously crafted steel gate was closing the street off from the general public, however, and it was guarded by a large host of the city's Unsullied guards lining the street on either side.
"It appears that this is where the guards have gone," Ser Barristan mused. "Ordered to protect the cravens."
"They are in our way and they won't stand down," Jon said with a frown. He didn't like it, but he would not let what the magisters and merchant princes did stand. "Jadewing!" he called into the sky. He pointed towards the Unsullied. "Perzys!"
His sister and aunt quickly followed with their own commands, Dany calling out her "Dracarys!" and Rhaenys her "Zālagon!".
The dragons, with their bellies full and their hunger sated after devouring a generous amount of meat from Malen Sanyr, wasted no moment to unleash their dragonfire upon the Unsullied after flying high and past the gate. The eunuchs, who were close enough, tried to stab the dragons with their spears, some even by throwing them, but, with quick flaps of their wings, Arrax, Jadewing and Sundancer managed to get safely out of reach.
"Wait until they return," Jon commanded the others. "This gate is strong and we will need their fire."
So they waited, still hearing the distant sounds of their high-pitched breaths of fire. He preferred that to the silent deaths of the burning eunuch soldiers. Rows upon rows of Unsullied succumbing to their dragons' flames, the putrid stench of burnt hair, fat and flesh, red and yellow fire and black smoke – all of it combined painted a picture of sheer destructive potential and they were still so young.
The Commander was right. Arrax, Jadewing and Sundancer were already fire-breathing terrors on wings. Just what would they be capable of once they were large enough to be ridden? Now, their streams of fire were still rather narrow and they could not sustain them that long in one breath. What kind of destruction would they be capable of a year from now? Or two years from now? Just imagining it was an impossible task. And seeing their dragons, barely reaching his waist, and what they could do together to these remaining Unsullied city guards...maybe the tales of Balerion the Black Dread were not exaggerated after all and were indeed true, word for word even. He used to enjoy hearing those stories, but they had often felt just like that: fanciful, unbelievable stories of another world.
Now he was living in that world.
Their dragons returned to them after a few minutes, landing between him and the gate. Jon pointed at the lock. "Perzys."
Rhaenys and Dany followed suit, again, with their own commands and Arrax and Sundancer joined Jadewing. Together, their flames were deemed strong enough to burn through the steel gate's lock, the clang of breaking metal audible after just a few short moments. The dragons ceased and Jadewing turned to look at him, almost as if she was asking if she did a good job. It made him grin.
Jon scratched the scales between her growing horns before walking towards the gate and kicking it open.
"I've got to get myself one of those," he heard one of the sellswords mutter, making him snort in amusement.
Jon then led the group past the broken steel gate and up the street. "Let us head to this palace and see what the magisters and merchant princes have to say for themselves."
They proceeded cautiously along the visible road, the few dead city guards not enough to ease their guard down. They were staying alert in case of any signs of an ambush further ahead. They did not need to bother, however, for the carnage their dragons had wrought upon the eunuchs soon became visible. Further along the streets, around the corner, the burned and scorched bodies of the other Unsullied started to appear by the dozens, prompting them to cover their noses and gag at the overwhelming smell of charred flesh.
"Seven hells." Another sellsword breathed out at the sight.
The dragons followed them on foot, their wing joints folded as they leaned on their claws, using them as front legs.
"This is the first time we ever had to rely on our dragons like this and it really hits you just what kind of a boon we have with them, doesn't it?" Rhaenys muttered as she walked up next to him.
"It truly does," he confirmed. "All thanks to Dany."
He glanced at his aunt on his other side and she just smiled proudly, a pretty dusting of red colouring her cheeks.
A few of the sellswords broke off from their group to check up on the bodies. Some were even found to be barely breathing and had to be put out of their misery. Their dragons' flames appeared to still not be strong enough to always kill.
"Not even the most disciplined soldiers of Essos stood a real chance," Oberyn murmured. "A sobering thought, to be sure."
Silence resumed as they continued their trek up the hill, left and right to them sand coloured walls of stone. Murals of slaves, chained and whipped or doing tasks for their masters proudly graced the walls surrounding them and it only strengthened his desire to behead these masters one by one.
It didn't take much longer before they reached the building and it truly was an opulent sight. Padzhar Palace was made of smooth and shiny ivory stone with heavy double doors of black wood, graced left and right by statues of the Black Goat. It was two stories high and the windows were dark red-stained glass. The colours went well with the general theme of this entire city of black, white and red. The roof was sharp and pointed, unlike the Black Goat's house of worship, giving it something distinctive above the rest.
"If you would do the honours, Commander," Jon said while indicating the door after dismounting his steed.
"With pleasure," Pahryl replied. One of his men hurried to lend him his battleaxe as Jon ushered the dragons to the side to give him space. Gripping the battleaxe with both hands, he swung hard once, twice, thrice before kicking both doors down with a steel boot. The wood gave in and splintered everywhere, the double doors barely hanging onto their hinges.
They all stepped inside, the dragons following them with curious looks. Their heads were swivelling left and right and their nostrils were flaring as they took in the new scents eagerly.
"Where could they be?" Daenerys wondered out loud, looking around the building.
The floor was a deep black and the entrance hall reminded him of the manses he had already had the displeasure of visiting these past few months. It was a blatant showcasing of luxury and extravagance.
A flight of stairs led to the second story, which they took after a brief search found all the rooms on the current floor to be empty. Their dragons just found a place to rest and curled up on top of some pillows in one of the rooms instead of following them up the stairs. They deserved it.
On the second floor, their group found another pair of heavy double doors. The Commander broke them down without needing much prompting this time, frightened screaming confirming that everyone was inside. The sound of drawn swords filled the air immediately.
Jon stepped forward, his Valyrian steel sword on hand.
"Y-your Grace –"
"I have a long memory," Jon began, paying no heed to the one merchant prince who had decided to speak up. "I remember every slight, every insult, every unsavoury glance thrown my way ever since I grew up as Lord Stark's bastard son. I forced myself to ignore them, no matter how deeply they stung, for lashing out would only prove them to be true. What has transpired here today, however…" He took a breath to restrain his anger. "My uncle, Eddard Stark, once told me that the man who passes the sentence should be the one to swing the sword, and by my judgement I deem all of you guilty on this day."
"You have no right to pass any sentence here!" One of the nobles finally exploded. "You are nothing! You are children playing at kings! You ought to be chained and disciplined!"
"Is there something we can use as a block?" Jon wondered aloud, his eyes taking in the room, the large table, the chairs, the statues and other decorations.
Two of Commander Pahryl's men began pushing a statue of a slaver holding a whip high and proud, causing it to fall and break into large chunks, but the platform it was standing on remained. They carried it towards him and he nodded in satisfaction.
"Prepare him, please," he commanded and Ser Barristan and Prince Oberyn did just that.
They walked forward and roughly grabbed the man by his arms, forcing him onto his knees and pressing a foot against his back, so that he leaned forward. He glared at Jon defiantly and didn't try to make it more difficult as he rested against the makeshift headsman's block.
"Do you understand why I sentence you to die?" Jon asked him, but the man just spat at his feet.
He didn't react. He didn't really feel anything. Jon didn't even feel nervous. He had killed men before, he had beheaded men and cut stomachs open. Burnt, dismembered, it didn't matter. He had seen death and this would be no different. Positioning himself, without much ceremony, he swung his sword over his head and effortlessly beheaded the man, blood quickly staining the floor as his head rolled about for a short moment.
"Please, your Grace! I sent a guard with your knight to Tychor's manse! Please, I wanted no part in this!"
Jon cocked a brow at the man, a fat, bald man shivering on his knees and on the verge of wetting himself.
"What?!" Another looked as if he was about to froth at the mouth as he threw himself at the kneeling man, throwing punches at him. "You coward! Betraying us to these beggars!"
The others joined and began to kick and punch the downed man, one of them was about to draw a dagger from the sash around his waist, but Ser Barristan, Prince Oberyn and the imposing figure of Commander Pahryl quickly restrained and broke them apart.
"And you!" One of the merchant princes spat at Pahryl. "You had a contract with us! With our city!"
"Which expired a few days ago," Pahryl replied dryly. "And I thank you all for concluding our payment as agreed upon, but the Wolf Pack is now under contract with the Targaryens."
"Remove the bald one from that group," Jon ordered. "Malen Sanyr can decide what to do with him. The rest will all die. I'll remember today's events for the rest of my days," he said while his gaze swept over the angry and scared looking nobility of the proud city of Qohor. "Thank you all for providing me with this invaluable lesson." Sudden inspiration struck him as he glanced down at his sword, still dripping with fresh blood. He lifted it high, staring at the mesmerizing smokey ripples coated in red with a grim smile before turning to his beautiful wives. "And from this day on, this blade shall be named Long Memory."
