Wow, that was a looong Hiatus. Hopefully I never have to do that again. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Daenerys

-Dragon, Dragon, what do you breathe?

-Fire and Blood, destruction I leave.

-But my sun and spear are not bowed nor bent. Against Fire and Blood, I shall never relent.

Ser Willem Darry had taught her that rhyme, also told her the story behind it - though not in Viserys' hearing. He may have been very young then, but it was not worth waking his dragon still. She'd once slipped and he'd heard her saying it to herself, upon which he had boxed her ear until she squealed in pain and told her "You are the Blood of the Dragon, not some sun-baked Dornish Serf. THE BLOOD OF THE DRAGON, YOU HEAR ME!"

But that very night, he told her about Ser Arthur Dayne and his pale sword Dawn, and her brother Rhaegar's Dornish wife, and Prince Lewyn Martell and his Dornish Spearmen, and of Daenerys, the Princess who shared her name, who had married the Prince of Dorne.

"Ser Arthur Dayne was the only knight who was Prince Rhaegar's equal," he had said many times, but she knew now that that must have been a lie. No, not a lie - Viserys simply didn't know any better and wanted to believe it was true. She knew now that a fight between the two would be as short and brutal as the fight between Ser Barristan and Mero, the Titan's Bastard. Her white knight had had a stick and Mero had a sword, but Mero was finished within a few moments and Ser Barristan was unfazed.

Jorah was not at her side, though she had relented in the matter of his exile, especially when she had heard of Brown Ben's convoluted plan. There are no old and bold Sellswords, but there are smart sellswords, and the Yunkai'i paid his men very well to stay by their side.

Jorah had also had brought a captive - a dwarf, one of the two who had jousted at the Great Pit, who he claimed was Tyrion Lannister. He did turn out to be a Lannister, even though he was dirty, disheveled, missing his nose, and had mismatched eyes, and, of course, he was a dwarf.

"Give me one good reason I should not kill you now for what your family did to mine," she had told him, and he had quite convinced her.

"Your Grace, I am the greatest Lannister killer there is. I slew the Bastard Boy King on the Iron Throne at his wedding and Lord Tywin Lannister on the privy. I would help your grace with my wits and with my tongue, and that way hope to by my pardon." He grinned, his lack of a nose making his face all the more disturbing. "All I ask is one small favor when you take King's Landing."

Daenerys leaned closer on her bench. She had ordered Hizdhar's seats to be brought to him in the dungeons. Soon she would have him killed on them. "And what is this 'small favor' may I ask?" she replied, teasingly. It was not a queenly thing to do, but she felt good saying it.

"Rape and strangle my sister," the Imp of Casterly Rock replied. "I've wanted to do that for some time now. Which reminds me, Your Grace, there is a small boat on the Rhoyne with one of your family members inside of it. Perhaps you should summon them here."

The queen nodded, her crown suddenly heavy on her head, her mind far away and nervous. "A family member you say?"

"Indeed, your Grace," the dwarf replied. "Your Brohter Rhaegar's son. He goes to marry you even now, bringing the allegiance of the Golden Company and their men."

Dany thought a moment. If this boy truly was Rhaegar's son... no that couldn't be. Prince Aegon had his skull smashed in by the Mountain-who-rides, a false Knight in service of the Lannisters. But if that Aegon was a fake, then maybe he wasn't who he said he was?

"How did he look, this relative of mine?" she asked. "Did he have the traits?"

"The very image indeed, your Grace," the Dwarf replied.

"And yet my nephew Aegon was slain as a babe of but two, by Lannister Men!"

Indeed, she thought she had him there, but he slipped between her fingers. "He says the spider organized it all. He was traded for the son of a peasant from Flea Bottom, for a cask of Arbor Gold."

Daenerys nodded. Yes, she could see some peasant doing that, trading a son for a jar of wine. "But wouldn't Elia have known of the switch?"

Tyrion thought long and hard on this, his ugly, scarred face screwed up in concentration. "Wait... you said that Aegon was two years old when he died?"

Dany nodded. Tyrion's face screwed up in intense thought again. "He's not Elia Martell's son," he announced gravely. "He's the wrong age. He's got to be Lyanna Stark's."

Dany's mouth dropped in shock for a moment. Her idolized brother Rhaegar was not everything that she had be told, she knew, but she didn't think he was the type to rape and father a child on some girl he barely knew. Except that he had.

Your brother Rhaegar loved his Lady Lyanna, Ser Willem had told her whenever Viserys went into one of his Black Spells where he Refought the Trident over and over and over again. He loved her so fiercely he took her without thinking of the consequences, and the realm paid the price in the blood of myriads of innocents.

She would need her White Knight's knowledge of her brother. Would he actually do such a disgraceful thing?

She needed answers, and she left to get them. Her White Knight was training his squires and knights, teaching them the laws of chivalry and honesty. When he saw his queen, he signalled to his class, and they all rose respectfully, and turned to face her, bowing their heads. She nodded in reply, and they straightened and turned around again.

"Come and walk with me Ser Barristan," the Queen commanded. "I would ask you of my Brother Rhaegar."

Ser Barristan came closer. "What is it you would ask of me, my Queen?"

"Abour my brother Rhaegar," She began. "Was he- was he...?" She fumbled for words and could not go on.

Ser Barristan looked at his boots and said nothing for several long moments as they walked on. Then he spoke. "Yes." He said finally. "He was mad. I can see it now. His ideas seemed sage, his skill seemed unparalleled, but that was the great shift inside him. He was bookish younger, as you recall, but that shift in his kind that sent on the quest of martial skill, now that I think more upon it, was guided by madness. Your Grace, I regret to tell you, your brother Rhaegar though he was a God, thought he could do as he pleased. He had no friends as a child, so that should have struck me queerly instantly. A child, even a royal child, should have playmates his own age, but Rhaegar never did. He was not studious though, but fanatical, indeed, as told of Baelor the Blessed come again. The Crone lifted her lamp to me and guided me to the truth, and now I see it. He was everything they said of him and more." He laid his head in his hands and was silent for several more long moments. "Forgive me your Grace," he said again, this time much more distressed.

"There's nothing to forgive," Dany replied, a veneer of kindness upon her face and in her voice, but in truth, she was probably more distressed than even her White Knight. Her valiant brother had been a liar, a narcissist, and once more she feared. Do I have the Taint? she asked herself one more time. Will time make me go mad? Will I control myself my Jahaerys or will I turn like my father?She prayed the answer was no.