Eddard
It had been sixteen years since Ned last saw the city. When he left, there was no attachment to any of what he found in King's Landing. When he saw it from the deck of the ship when it first came into sight, he almost shuddered at the return. This place to him felt like an embodiment of the south altogether. He didn't like it, which was why he decided that the Direwolves would be better in the North at Winterfell until their return. Some of the children were insistent, though. Arya, Sansa, and Bran had all brought their wolves with them. Robb had taken Greywind when he left with Theon and Domeric (who also brought Lyze along for their journey). Rickon was too young to have proper control over Shaggydog so it was a definite no.
Ned took his first step off the ship and immediately felt a rush of discomfort throughout his body. Every memory of the city and the Red Keep were all ones he hated to his core. But he had to shove those feelings aside. He was here for his son and his soon to be daughter. Now was the time to rejoice. 'Quite being a stubborn old goat,' he told himself.
A great smile grew on his lips at the sight of his lifelong friend waiting for him.
"Ned!" Robert bellowed with open arms. Those rumors of his great weight were indeed false. He wasn't any better than after the Greyjoy Rebellion, but he wasn't fat. They were just at the age that their youthful physique was starting to fade.
"Your grace. It's good to see you in fine health."
"Oh gods, have you turned that old already? I got enough bootlickers talking like that, I don't need my friend doing it too. Give me a real greeting."
Ned indulged. "Time's fucked you harder than Balon did."
Robert laughed heartily and slapped Ned on the back. "There's my brother. But where is my daughter? I want to see her."
Myrcella had just stepped off when Robert spoke and presented herself. "Hello father."
"Let me have a look at you. My, what a beauty you became, just like your mother. Welcome home, love."
"It's wonderful to be home…" Myrcella's gaze found her mother and the great swell in the Queen's belly. She rushed over and hugged her mother with a delicate embrace. "I missed you so much!"
"So have I, my love." The queen replied with a mother's smile. She pulled her head back to gaze upon her daughter who stood up to her nose. "You've grown so much. Where did my little girl go? You're a beautiful woman now."
"And you have another brother or sister for me." Myrcella laid a hand on her mother's stomach and gasped a smile but after a short while it nearly turned into a frown as Myrcella looked her mother in the eye. "You received my last raven?"
"I did, my cub. Joffrey is with his friends at Lannisport."
Myrcella nodded while Ned wondered what that was about. He heard on occasion from Jon Arryn that there were certain discontentions between the royal children, mostly involving Joffrey. Perhaps Myrcella didn't want to risk any foolery from her brother at her wedding?
"Hold a moment," Robert said with eyes scanning Ned's party, "we have the bride, but where's the groom?"
"He chose to ride instead with my wards. Domeric Bolton's more horse than man. I'm surprised they didn't beat us here." The thought did bring up some worry in him. They have have run into trouble along the road.
There was a slight twitch in Robert's eye and a moment of silence. "As long as he doesn't miss his own bloody wedding." Robert clapped his hands once. "Come on now, it's bloody hot out here. Ned, come walk with me, we have much to discuss for the wedding."
Ned followed after the king and left his family in the care of the Queen. The two of them quickly forgot their formalities in the privacy of friendship.
"I wish I could have been here for Jon's funeral. I spent a few days reminiscing about our time in the Eyrie."
Robert softly clapped Ned on the back. "I should have seen the signs sooner, Ned. He should have passed in the comforts of his home, not this shit stinking city. But he passed peacefully, we can take comfort in that. Not unlike your bastard. Terrible fate to have that."
Ned tensed at the mention of his failure. "Aye, a far better fate. But let me inquire of you. Was it truly wise to name Tywin Lannister as Jon's successor? It's no secret that he strives for power."
"Don't worry about anything of it. I've got Tywin exactly where I want him. Running my Kingdoms while I enjoy an easy reign. He may be the Lion of Casterly Rock but I am the King. He doesn't forget it, nor should you, so stop worrying. Damn, Ned, you're not here for concern and worry. Our children are on the eve of marriage! Rejoice!"
It didn't inspire much confidence in Ned when it came to Robert's own in Tywin Lannister. But it was a time to rejoice. He only worried that Robb would not arrive in time for it. As long as Domeric and Theon were with Robb, Ned had faith in their safety and speed but thinking about Robb's leg constantly unnerved him.
"Speaking of the Lord Hand, where is Tywin? I have a few matters to discuss. Gold, profits, and promises."
"Seven Hells, Ned, you've only just arrived and you're already pulling your duties around with you. I always felt you were more a son to Jon than I was. But if you must, you'll find my good-father in the Tower of the Hand doing my work as usual."
Ned found it in him to laugh. "When the King is merry off his throne, his Hand is buried beneath the weight." That earned some laughter from Robert as they watched their families be escorted into the castle. Sansa and Jeyne Poole trailed with Myrcella and the Queen as though they were ladies in waiting, all of them beaming with joy.
Robert bid him away to see to a meeting with Tywin Lannister. It's been years since they last met, but he didn't expect anything to have softened the Lion of Casterly Rock. He needed no guide to find the Hand's office for he remembered where it was.
But as it turned out, Lord Tywin was at the bottom of the great steps leading up the Tower of the Hand, discussing matters with one of the castle servants holding a book open for his Lord Hand.
"I don't care how much it is, beit it a handful of silver or an entire ship of silks, I want this launderer found immediately." Lord Tywin's voice was firm and absolute as always with a wrathful glare above.
"Yes, my lord. I'll see to it personally." The servant clapped the book shut and walked a brisk pace away to see to his assurances.
"Lord Stark," Tywin greeted with a somewhat softened expression, "My apologies for my absence of your arrival. Matters of the crown take up my time more than I plan them to. I trust the seas were kind?"
"Kind enough for a voyage, but not so to deter me from thinking what reason you've made up for forgo the Mountain's punishment. I heard he's participating in my son's tourney."
"That he is, but not of my permission or his own. It was the King's decision to allow it. Since your son will not be, he wants who he can to entertain. The Mountain, the entire Kingsguard, everybody with a name worth a gold dragon in the jousts."
"This sounds more like a tourney for himself than his daughter. Myrcella wanted boat races instead if there were to be games."
"And there shall be. The evening shall be the wedding and ball, the day after shall be the tourney, and the races at dawn the day after that. I trust your men will present themselves accordingly for the events."
"Seeing as trust in you to uphold your promise to punish Ser Gregor accordingly went out of your control, it is not becoming of one to ask such. But I shall ensure it still, for the sake of my soon to be good-daughter and my family."
"I'll be sure that we find a resolution for what became out of my control. The timing of it couldn't be worse. It's driving a wedge between us I hoped would not. With Myrcella soon to be in the North, I feel that she may grow lonely being isolated from her family. I have hopes of possible betrothals for bonds of country and family. My nephew Lancel, for example, a young man able to wed. My grandson Tommen is still too young to decide his best placement, but I'm sure he'd find the North pleasant if Myrcella does."
Ned did his utmost to keep his emotions contained. More marriages and Lannisters to enter his lands. "The North barely tolerated Jaime and the mining town, they wouldn't like more southern people intertwining with them."
"You mean they wouldn't want more of my family. And yet I hear talk that my son, Tyrion, is seeking to acquire a keep for himself on your lands. As for what brought this on, I have not the slightest."
"Another wager in the works, my lord." Tomorrow was a day Ned couldn't look forward to enough. The ship was in port and Tyrion would show him the way to it. Finally, after all these years. "He's rather confident in his victory and I always fulfill my promises. The North has hundreds of empty keeps from small towers to several vacant castles. But he won't see himself on the ramparts of Moat Cailin if he wins."
"But he would be seen elsewhere, and if you'd discuss it further with me I think it would suit him to live out his life there."
Ned Felt taken aback at the comment. "You'd send your heir off to the North? "
Lord Tywin's face turned hard with distaste and anger. "I will not see that lecherous belittling drunk at the seat of the Westerlands. Tyrion is my son but he is no heir of mine. He's no better than a bastard for what he is. There is nothing for him to inherit from me."
"I always felt he was that way out of spite for everyone who looks down on him. You condemn him so easily with disregard to his abilities."
"I never said he was without his usefulness. But without his wit and cunning, he is no more than a drunken, shameful, lecher who would turn my family home into his personal whorehouse. If I condemned him, then he would be living in an alley down in Flea Bottom with his stained clothes and some cutthroat's knife after his empty purse. You can't say that you planned to give your late bastard a place of his own if he ever came of age. What future did you set his eyes on?"
Ned's emotions fell when he was asked to speak of Jon. "I would have seen him be a great fighter allied with his brother in times of war. Or serve honorably at the Night's Watch."
"You consider serving a lifetime as a frozen guard next to rapists and thieves to fight off savages honorable? You live closest to it yet act the most oblivious to the true nature of it."
"I know what the Night's Watch once was. And I know that someone like my son could have become a man with the capacity to return it to the glory and honor it once was."
"If you truly believe it then you are an honorable fool. The Night's Watch cannot become what it was born as during superstitious times. It is a prison to ward off the Wildlings, nothing more."
Ned took offence to such a notion. "And I name you an oblivious fool, Lord Tywin. I have been to the Wall, I have only seen the fierceness beyond the ice and hold the men in black in high esteem for their courage to venture into it. I know not what else lies beyond but if there truly are worse things then Wildlings then I am grateful that the Watch has kept them out all these years, keeping men like you warm and oblivious."
Tywin glared at Ned silently for a few seconds. "I know the men I have sent to the Wall, Lord Stark. And their deeds and service shall be forgotten and noticed as their names will too. From the most notable of knights to most feared killers taken from a dungeon, they shall all share the same fate, death in the cold dressed in black. May they be diligent and faithful to protect us all." Lord Tywin began to walk and ushered Ned to follow. "But I feel this is not the occasion for such banter. How is Myrcella's love for her new home?"
Ned felt himself ease up with the change of subject. "She loves the land, and the people love her. On occasion I have tasked Myrcella and Robb with some of my duties to warm them up for their future positions and they exceeded my expectations. There is potential in the North and the two of them will bring it out to the fullest more than I could."
"You have that much faith in them?"
"Well it's not suspicion or expectations. They bring out the best in each other and that will serve the North better than the past century has. My son has even begun to draw up plans to establish Queenscrown for the Night's Watch and install an independent Governor to work alongside the Lord Commander to keep watch over the Gift and the people therein."
"A smart choice from a young man. He is eighteen, I believe?"
"Sixteen."
"Young but already sensible ambition. I hope that his abilities will serve his king well when the two of us are gone and our hopes left behind in the hands of our inheritors." Whoever that would be for Tywin if not his legal heir.
Before they could continue on, a different servant of Tywin's quickly found them. "My lords, Robb Stark has arrived."
Ned led the way to the front gates of the Red Keep and found that Robert and Cersei had beaten him and Tywin there already. The boys were dismounted and began kneeling before their King, Greywind panting alongside Robb.
"Your gra-" Robb started to kneel but the king stopped him.
"Get off that bad knee of yours, boy." Robert ordered him. "Gods, didn't you have red hair like your mother last we met?"
"Aye. Time's darkened it to more of my father's coloring." Robb stepped forward and bowed his head to the queen. "Your grace. It's an honor to meet you again. I'm most grateful that I will have the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms as my wife."
The Queen smiled but it didn't look all that pleasant as what she gave to Myrcella. "You've become quite the handsome Stark, my young lord. I was distraught when I heard of your accident in Ashford. I trust the gods will send you through a swift recovery for my daughter."
"Your words give me great confidence, your grace."
"Well then!" Robert began with open arms, "we have our groom at last. Let's get this wedding underway!"
Daenerys
The dothraki sea was beautiful at first sight. And then slowly, day after day, the constant green of the waving grass became hypnotic and to see any other color in the sea was more fascinating than anything else. A simple wildflower of white and yellow had more presence than a tower stretching a hundred feet high in a city.
But finally after the days nearly became lost and countless, there was a change. The foothills flattened and the grass growing was so tall and thick it was almost like a forest of little trees. Six days ago they passed through a great ruined city the Dothraki called Vaes Khewo, the City of Worms. The name before it was forgotten by most and all of those in Daenerys' company. It was a beautiful ruin. Daenerys' imagination conjured up an even more beautiful city that once was. But they did not linger to explore and search for any treasures still hidden in the city. They kept moving.
For the past six days, Drogo was gone with his Ko and a dozen other of his favorite warriors on a hunt. They would be returning tonight and from what the young scout boy said, they had a great haul of kills for a small feast and Drogo killed a hrakkar, a white lion of the Dothraki sea, using only his knife and brute strength.
Those days when Drogo was gone, sleep was easier for Daenerys. And the time she didn't have him roughly humping her was enough to grow strong. All the while, she tried to think of ways to make things easier for herself. Doreah had given her insight on pleasing a man beyond what they believe they want and she was almost ready to suggest to Drogo about taking a mistress. Though having practical experience from beforehand from a man she actually wanted to please was more of a help than anything Doreah could give.
Lord Gregor and Ser Jorah were kind and told her much of the many things that happened in Westeros that Dillion, Smokeball, and Cinders had not been present for. Anything to help pass the time of the day's ride until they made camp and it would be hours until they did. They told tales of fighting Ironborn in the Greyjoy Rebellion and it eventually led to what they knew of the attempted assassination of the King, of how a bastard of House Stark took the knife instead.
Even though she knew the truth about Jon Snow, it still hurt to hear of such a terrible thing. How could men be so evil in this world without remorse? Jon, Rhaenys, Aegon, Elia Martell, all of them murdered by men who commit such atrocities and live on. At least Jon was granted some vengeance by the Greyjoy ward.
What seemed a bit odd was the interest Ser Dillion took in it. At first Daenerys thought it was because of Jon's magic. Who wouldn't be interested in a person who could conjure fire. Except Dillion didn't know that Jon was Morghon.
"And you joined the procession into the crypts?" Dillion asked, leaning into the conversation with interest. It almost looked like he would fall off his horse if he did anymore.
"Aye, I did." Lord Gregor answered. "I lit a candle like the others and watched the children of House Stark weep over the tomb when it closed. I've never seen such love for a bastard before. Even Lady Catelyn shed a tear, and she hated the boy. Mayhaps holding a dying child in your arms changes you," He said with a sad shake of his head.
The dreadful thoughts brought Daenerys away from the furthering conversation. Instead she rode the rest of the day with her handmaidens, furthering her learning of the Dothraki Language with Irri and receiving some guidance from Ser Jorah even in the common tongue.
That evening, after all made camp and dinner was being eaten, Daenerys found her company with Cinders when she found distaste in tonight's meal of roast goat. It had been nothing but meat and spices for days now. Being nomads, there wasn't any possibility of farming along the way. Vegetables and fruits had to be picked or accepted as tributes. But luckily Cinders had a few tricks up his sleeve as well as some carrots and squash he had. With the meat, he made a delectable stew that Dany deemed fit for a King.
Still, she did feel a little upset in her stomach but it was nothing she couldn't tough through.
"It's wonderful, Cinders. But truly, one bowl is all I need. The rest is yours and you deserve it."
Cinders smirked as he spooned one last portion into his bowl. "I can't deny the demands this belly of mine has, but I'll see that we have enough for tomorrow too." He patted his belly and sat with her under the stars.
Rakharo, her bodyguard as assigned by Drogo, was the only one else joining them tonight. He was learning the common tongue well after having the means to be closer to Irri. The two of them were such flirts, lovers without a care of who they were except to each other. How she envied them.
Her eyes fell to her feet and she shifted uncomfortably. Her attempts to improve her situation with Drogo was not advancing that much. Doreah had given her lessons on pleasuring men, and sometimes they worked. But she couldn't bring herself to be affectionate for her husband. She wouldn't. Her heart was locked for one man. On nights she did not dream of dragons, she dreamed of Jon laying by her side, holding her and humming the song she heard from the weirwood.
It made Daenerys wonder if he was dreaming of her too?
Sometimes she was having second thoughts that she decided they should part. When they were together he always brought such joy to her and he calmed her nerves better than anyone else ever had. But then again, maybe it was for the best, especially with her recent development. How would their hearts remain strong to endure it?
"Princess?" Cinders spoke.
"Hm?" She lifted her head and looked at him. How long was she daydreaming?
"I've been thinking about something all day and I think the only way to settle these thoughts is to ask you something important." He glanced over to Rakharo and Irri.
Daenerys silently agreed that privacy would be best. "Take your love over to the grass under the eyes of heaven." She said in her husband's tongue. Finally, she was starting to get it.
Rakharo needed no more than that to whisk Irri away, the last sight of the two of them he had his hand playfully gripping Irri's bottom.
"What is it you wanted to ask?" Daenerys inquired.
"I just wanted to ask how you are, is all. You seem happier in your rides now then days past and you're getting the language much better. But I feel there's still something there that troubles you."
"There is much on my mind, Cinders. I constantly think of my future and what will become of me. Drogo is the mightiest of the Khals, so they say. Does it mean that I shall forever follow his khalasaar until age takes one of us?" She sighed out, feeling weighed down by her troubles. "I am trying to find the best of what I have been forced into."
"Do you think it would have been better if you never went out that night? Experienced all that you did?"
"No," She answered immediately, "everything I did and lived made everything before it all melt away. To laugh, to dance…"
"To love?"
Daenerys looked over at Cinders who simply kept his eyes on his food and he slurped another spoonful of stew. "I know you laid with him that night. I wish you didn't. Do you sometimes?"
Daenerys didn't answer immediately. Would things have been better if she never fell in love with Jon and shared a night of fun and embrace with him? "He was my choice, Cinders. My first choice I ever truly had the freedom to make. I don't regret it at all."
Cinders took a deep breath, letting his eyes lock on the flames under the stewpot. His face looked morbid and sickly. "Morghon is Jon Snow, isn't he? Ned Stark's bastard?"
She cursed at herself in thought. If only she hadn't slipped up in the library revealing Jon's name. There was no hiding any secret from her mentor, especially now.
"Yes."
Cinders shook his head. "They say Northmen lie as easily as cattle swim in the ocean. It's all buggery of course, everyone lies. But the stories I've heard all speak of truth. That boy died that night but there he was." He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "There are legends that discuss things like this… and all involve dark omens that herald disaster." Cinders' eyes were almost worn. "What does this mean, princess?"
She hadn't the faintest idea what omen or future this could mean. She was so caught up with her betrothal and Jon that she never once thought to ask him what he thinks it all means.
"I'm not sure, Cinders. Jon spoke of priests that hunted him for sacrifice. Perhaps it has to do with the Red God?"
"The Lord of Light? I know little of that religion, a few Houses in Westeros practise the religion rather than the Seven or the Old Gods. But I've heard they do perform fire rituals that heavily involve living sacrifice. They deem it as burning away the sin of flesh. Nonsense of course. Though there is one other thing I remember, something that Prince Rhaegar was known to read about. Something about the One who was Promised or something like that. I would think Dillion knows more given he served in the castle itself. Perhaps you should tell him-"
"No!" Daenerys hissed. "I will ask him about my brother but as far as you are concerned, Jon's secret remains between us. Do you understand? It's his secret I shouldn't have let slip."
"Even from the others? Dillion-"
"Lied to me! For years, you all did. Lying to your enemies is expected, but the people you protect… was your faith in us so little? Because mine in you isn't. Don't prove me wrong." She got up and left, retiring to her tent.
Tonight, she took the green dragon egg to bed with her. As she faded into the place between awake and sleep, she could feel a small eminence from the egg.
'Wake the dragon.'
The next day the ride resumed and finally, after weeks and sore pains, she felt comfort in her saddle without so much as a needle's prick of pain.
Her ride was better more with Ser Jorah riding with her again and retailing the current events in Westeros. The most prominent was how the heir of House Stark made a fool of himself at a tourney in Ashford, how he foolishly got his horse killed and almost crippled himself.
Jorah was nearly done. "But I think things went differently than what word tells. That's how it usually is with news. If you want the full truth then you have to be there to see it."
"So I understand," Daenerys replied, "I've heard far more lies and false rumors about my brother and I than there are blades in the Iron Throne."
The conversation was almost cut short when Dillion rode up between her and Ser Jorah.
"Pardon the intrusion, Princess," Dillion began, "but I think it best you find other company than the Northmen for now."
Jorah's face hardened from insult. "And what's that meant to mean?"
"It means I don't trust you. I hate Ned Stark but know that if he sentences a man to death then he really does deserve it. Why did he do that to you?"
"That's my business." Jorah said with a growl in the back of his throat.
"If you are sworn to House Targaryen then it's all our business now."
Ser Jorah's hand opened and closed while fidgeting with his fingers. His jaw clenched and he looked ahead. "I sold poachers into slavery. My House was on the verge of financial ruin. I had no other way. I wouldn't dare sell my family's Valyrian Blade but neither did keep it when I left. I don't deserve to hold it again. All of it for my love of a woman I couldn't let go until she abandoned me. Even now, a part of me still can't." Ser Jorah gently laid a hand over the handle of his sword, which only now Daenerys noticed was not leather bound or wood but what appeared to be some type of cloth, almost like a tourney favor. "Can you say the same? To know the pain of being abandoned?"
Dillion sucked in a breath followed by a hard sigh. "My best friend. I pleaded time and time again for him to see reason and turn away from the path he chased. But still, he went to it and I followed him until he was lost."
Ser Jorah didn't say anything more. In fact they all kept rather silent.
"Dillion," Daenserys broke the silence, "you knew my brother Rhaegar more than those who have only heard of him. Was he ever a studier of prophecies?"
Dillion's whole body tensed and his head jerked to her when she asked. "What brought about this intrigue?"
"Cinders told me that Rhaegar was known to study such things and I wanted to know more about it. I wonder if there could be some connection to some dreams I have been having unlike anything ever before except for one when I was a little girl."
Dillion sighed before looking back, most likely checking that there was a certain distance between the horde behind them before looking back at her with a hard expression. "Now you listen to me. Dreams are only dreams. They aren't prophecy or guidance. They are dangerous. Prince Rhaegar had them and pursued their meanings too deeply and thousands died because of it and your House nearly fell to ruin. The best course of action is ignoring them."
No. To ignore them when they have already become real in her very arms would betray herself and her blood as a Targaryen. "And if Daenys the Dreamer ignored her dreams then my family would have perished with the rest of Valyria. You mean to say that was a lie?"
"I mean to say that things were different when the dragons lived. Yes, we've witnessed an incredible display of magic, but that kind of power is different. Don't let your future be determined by delusion."
She could tell that Dillion would not delve further into her curiosity now. Such times had happened before now that she recalled whenever asking about her father more before she knew the much trust was lost and not enough was earned back to tell him about Jon.
Dany felt disgusted by those words. To tell her such a thing twisted her stomach. She almost had the heart to share the secret of Jon's identity with him, but he was not worthy of it. "You have no need to fear since you're the ones making the decisions for me."
But that was before her marriage. Now she was the Khaleesi to Khal Drogo, a queen of the horde. No one but her husband could command her.
"Tell the dothraki to stop." Daenerys commanded, giving Dillion a puzzled look.
"What for, princess?"
"Because I command them to." When her Silver came to a halt, the sound of the horde's march quickly died down and became replaced with whispering tongues.
"You're starting to sound like a queen." Jorah commented with what she took as a proud expression he wore.
"Not a queen, a khaleesi." She left the company of the Dothraki and her Silver, needing to walk her legs from getting stiff from all the sitting. She pushed past the tall stalks of grass, quickly becoming out of sight of her companions but not out of hearing.
She could get lost in the stalks for an hour or two, something to pretend she was not where she was and just lost elsewhere in the world where she wanted to be. She found a lovely little clearing that could suit her well for a decent nap. An hour under the stalks and clouds would be a good rest and the silence gave her a nice peace of mind.
But not even that little peace would last. The sounds of crunching and snapping stalks came from behind and Daenerys whipped around as soon as her brother crashed through on his horse.
"Why have we stopped?" Viserys asked as he stopped his horse about ten paces from her. He appeared upset, but not angry. "I gave no command for us to stop yet. We are wasting time!"
Daenerys swallowed but kept her eyes on his. "We have been riding since morning, brother. My legs are stiff and my mind is lost in all this green. A break will do us well, just an hour. Do you disagree?"
Viserys rolled his eyes as he slid off his horse and approached her, mouth opening to scold her, before he sighed and rubbed his lower back. He did his best to stifle a sore groan. "I suppose an hour will be alright. But make sure you don't forget that sooner we get to their city then the sooner they do what they need to with you and we finally march for Westeros." Viserys stopped and turned around as he looked at their surroundings. "You wanted to stop here?" He asked with an amused smile.
"The grass is soft and cool as are the clouds." She looked at where they came from. Not a single person in sight from the line. "I haven't felt any privacy since we left until now. Don't you find it nice?"
"A true royal doesn't just lay in the grass under the clouds. Unfortunately these filthy savages don't have any sense of royalty, or else we'd have a canopy and rug of the finest quality instead." Daenerys tensed angrily when he referred to the Dothraki as savages. They were tough people, but far from savage. They had culture, honor, respect, and discipline far more than many of the nobles she and Viserys were sheltered by, but then again he never had much respect for any of them too. Everyone who wasn't him or at the very least of Valyrian blood was beneath him.
It did sound nice, though. A linen canopy and a Myrish rug, and even a banner with the Targaryen sigil to signify them.
Viserys sighed. "But I suppose this will have to do without any finerys we deserve. But is this all you wanted? To stand among reeds?"
"I think I'll get one of my books and read," she said as she walked over to the best spot she found, "have you looked at any of them? They're full of tales of home. And Cinders has been making a copy of the Valyrian Stories Morghon told to me."
Viserys, for one of the few times in the many conversations they ever had, showed genuine interest. "What stories? I did not know about this."
Daenerys knew she told him more than twice, but that was when he was in such an anxious and fast mood back at the manse.
"Morghon's father was a Valyrian like us."
Viserys took another step closer. "From which House?"
"Not one from Westeros. House Aekylosh, the Dancing Dragons. His name was Baelgor. He's the one who taught Morghon how to summon fire like he did. He even helped me do it a little." Unfortunately that was about half of what Jon ever spoke of Baelgor. The rest was such terrible memories that Viserys would scoff and belittle.
"The flames are something to be taught?" Viserys softly ground his teeth side to side as he looked off to the side, almost trying to be stoic but failing. "He better find us soon. A power like that in better hands will secure our victory for certain."
Daenerys sighed, now wishing she had one of her books with her. Viserys would usually go off to speak with someone else when she was reading. At least he had some respect for her privacy and time, or maybe it was to avoid hearing what she was reading about.
She wandered over to one of the tall reeds and shut out the things around her just to look at it, the texture, the greens that ripped though each other in different hues. Her attention turned at the sound of a high pitched buzzing whistle.
Viserys had plucked a leaf from a reed and was lightly holding it between his lips and blowing as though it were an instrument. He didn't have any control over the notes, but it still made Daenerys smile just a little and he in turn.
She plucked a leaf for herself and tried to mimic her brother's actions but only blew spit and muffles.
"Like this," Viserys showed his lips were tucked in a little and how the leaf was positioned before blowing. Daenerys adjusted and tried again. At the spart she got nothing when she blowing but then a tiny little pi came from the leaf and it startled her into a laugh.
"Mother taught me that when she was pregnant with you. Almost made me want to learn to play the flute or an ocarina, something so I could spend more time with Rhaegar. If he wasn't in the yard training, or in the library studying, or ignoring his own children, he was playing his harp." Viserys shook his head and dropped the leaf.
"Do you remember the song she sang? Dillion said she sang for all of us."
Viserys almost frowned. "No." He started walking back to his horse, probably to leave Daenerys all to herself when she decided to take a chance. She began humming the tune she heard from under the weirwood that night with Jon, gently fiddling with the leaf between her fingers as she did.
Viserys stopped dead in his tracks. His body began to lightly tremble and his hands shaking. After a few seconds he turned his head to her, a tear streaking down his face. When it fell from his pale cheek, he gently wiped at the streak left behind and breathed out, closing his eyes. But when he opened them, he looked angry, not to her, but at everything. It made Dany stop out of worry that she may have begun to wake the dragon.
"Don't take too long," Viserys ordered, getting atop his horse.
"Viserys-"
"Shut up!" He hissed as he rode back from where he came.
Daenerys sighed. Did she do the wrong thing? She felt such longing and love when she heard the song. Maybe Viserys only felt pain and loss since he knew their mother and she didn't.
Rather than delay longer like she wanted, Daenerys returned to the Dothraki, mounting her Silver and ordering the ride to move forward again.
For now, Daenerys decided to take one of the books Ser Jorah gifted her and read. She had already read the Poetries of Baelor the Blessed and found most of them too focused on the worship of the Seven but there were a handful she found very lovely. Her new book, By Rivers and Hill, was a Romantic tale about two bastard sisters who were twins yet had separate surnames. Both were born in the back of a wagon, one in the Riverlands and the other in the Westerlands after crossing the border.
As the hour went on, Daenerys found herself engrossed in the tale and began humming to herself her mother's song. Viserys was far back enough that he wouldn't hear her. She loved to hear it to herself as much as she loved humming it. But she wasn't quite brave enough to sing it yet. One day though, she knew she would be without fear.
"Princess," Dillion said with a flabbergasted face, "how do you know that tune?"
She didn't even look up from her book. "My mother sang it to me in my dreams, Ser Dillion." Another reminder of where her trust was despite his words. "She sang it to me when I was in her womb. I wish to do as she did for mine."
"Princess... you are with child!"
"I know."
