Over the next few precious hours Ostara could be sleeping finds the young witch tending to three little dragons that have managed to break out of their eggs. They're the only ones so far, Milren and his siblings. The other eggs haven't shown so much as a single crack but she gets the sense that now that three of the eggs have hatched the other seven will follow close behind.
Ostara rakes a hand through her hair, unintentionally dislodging the little Chinese Fireball that had been curled up on top of her head.
She is not at all prepared for this.
Being educated on something and being prepared it are two very different things. Ostara understands the concept of hatching and raising, there'd been enough information in her journals and what little of her past life she can remember to give her a general sense of what she was supposed to do and what she needed in order to do it.
Magic, heat, space, and food.
But nothing had ever told her how to deal with newly hatched dragons as a human caretaker.
"You need food." Ostara mutters, more to herself then anything, and plucks the Chinese Fireball off of her head.
She, the dragon, screeches loudly and attempts to get back up onto Ostara's head by flapping her wings and wiggling her little body. It doesn't work. The dragons are still a bit too young to fly properly, only managing a shaky hover over the ground.
After Ostara gets them food and a nesting space it will be a little different but first she needs to actually get those things without having to worry about whether or not her dragons are going to fling themselves out the window or something else equally as stupid.
"I'll be back... Just... Just stay here and don't get into any trouble." Ostara practically begs.
It's the Hebridean Black, not the Antipodean Opaleye nor the Chinese Fireball, that answers her with a bird-like tilt of a little scaled head.
Yes mother.
"Thank you..." Ostara hesitates by the door.
She should have brought Rubeus, that way she would have had someone to look after the hatchlings while she went off to gather supplies. She'll make sure to do it from now on. Just in case.
Slipping back through the wardrobe is familiar and Ostara slides past the sleeping shadowcat on her bed as she makes her way to the door. Having sneaked through Storm's End a number of times with and without the help of magic Ostara finds that getting out of the castle without the guards seeing her is fairly easy. So is getting into the fruit cellar.
The problem comes with the fact that the cook keeps incredibly detailed lists of what goes into the root cellar lest something go missing.
Hopefully, Ostara things as she pulls a relatively decent sized slab of meat from the shelf, they'll think the numbers are off.
After making sure the meat is properly wrapped and spelled to keep from leaking into her back and spoiling Ostara slips out of the root cellar and makes her way back to her chambers where she finds Rubeus staring at the wardrobe door, lips curled and eyes blazing.
Ostara swears as the door pushes open and a little gold and red body pops out of the shadows, tumbling from the wardrobe with all of the grace of a bull in a china shop.
"Fuck, what are you doing here?" Ostara demands, rushing to pull the little dragon off of the floor before it can hurt itself.
Came to find mother.
Ostara sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose very briefly before bringing the dragon to eye level.
The dragon has to curl his tail around her wrist and grab hold of her fingers with his talons in order to fit somewhat comfortably in her hand. She, Ostara thinks it's a she anyway, is a bit too heavy to be held one handed but Ostara manages it.
"Where are the others?"
Others?
"Yes, Melrin and the Hebridean Black?"
Melrin? Janus? They are... With the nest that is not.
"You know each other's names?"
Smoke billows out of tiny gold-tinted nostrils.
Yes.
"What's you're then?"
A brief pause before a soft, Orlaith.
Ostara's smile seems a bit thin but she tries all the same.
"Alright, let's get back to the others." She says.
Then she turns to Rubeus, who has at some point removed himself from the bed and moved to the wardrobe where he sniffs and growls lowly at the wood. A quick reprimand and an even briefer introduction to the dragon seems to quiet the great cat but Ostara thinks it would be best to get him to the laboratory and introduce him to the others should anything like this happen again.
Taking a more comfortable hold on her newfound companion Ostara steps into the wardrobe and back out again, closely followed by Rubeus.
Once they're back in the Vaelmaereon keep Ostara lets out a sigh of relief.
No one caught her, no one knows about the dragon.
The trip back to the laboratory is silent save for the chirping of the dragon and the near-offended noises Rubeus makes when Orlaith drop from Ostara's shoulders to the top of the shadowcat's big head. She allows herself to smile at that despite the anxiety welling up in her chest the closer they get to the laboratory. Most of it stems from the fact that she isn't sure how she's going to keep anyone else from finding out about them.
It will be years before they're truly full grown and in that time they'll need more food, more gold.
Gold, Ostara has plenty of. The whole of Valyria is rife with gold.
Food on the other hand? That might be an issue.
Meat is a primary food source for dragons and until they're old enough to fly off on their own and hunt Ostara will be the one providing the meat... But she can't exactly walk a cow or a few sheep through her wardrobe without people getting suspicious, nor can she continue to steal from the root cellar. it's possible she could fish the oceans surrounding Valyria for a time. There are spells for that sort of thing. But it would be time consuming and impractical after a time.
Ostara pushes the door the the laboratory open and shoves her hand into her satchel to dig out the meat.
Mother!
"I brought food." Ostara says, holding up the covered slab.
It delights the little dragons, they scramble over one another in their attempt to gather around Ostara's ankles.
Janus, the little Hebridean Black, even manages to climb up the lower half of her skirt. Little claws gaining purchase in the soft blue fabric.
After carefully removing the dragon from her person Ostara makes her way over to the work table where she finds a clean blade she can cut the meat with. Rubeus pads along after her, seemingly unfazed by dragon perched atop his head like a little, fire breathing hat.
Ostara keeps an eye on all of the little beasties as she carefully slices the meat into little chunks that she divides equally between the four. Rubeus takes his meat raw, plucking it very carefully from her fingers and licking away the blood from her skin. The dragons require their meat charred to a crisp and so Ostara cooks the meat until it's a strange, shriveled black hunk before giving it over.
Once they've been given their food Ostara makes her way over to a corner of the room where she begins pulling little pouches of gold from her satchel. It isn't much but then her dragons are still small. They won't need copious amounts of gold and jewels for their hoards just yet. Still, she makes sure there's enough to keep them occupied.
The others will hatch in time, Mother, a little voice says and Ostara glances down at Melrin, they will need gold as well.
"There's plenty of gold here, entire keeps full of it." Ostara replies.
Keeps?
"Like a nest with a roof."
Roof, it sounds like a scoff, what use is a roof?
"Not everyone can be protected from the elements like you."
The little Antipodean Opaleye stretches his wings, the soft membrane of his wing brushing Ostara's skirts, then promptly climbs atop the nearest pile of gold.
Humans are weak.
"I'm human."
No, it's said with such finality that Ostara finds herself shocked into silence, you are mother.
~X~
"It is said that Azor Ahai will wake dragons from stone." Melisandre remarks one morning while Ostara reads a book on dragons.
It's a Targaryen book and can easily be overlooked as a passing interest so Ostara feels no need in trying to hide it from the eyes of anyone who might come across her.
"Who is Azor Ahai?" Cerys asks, her own book forgotten on the oak table.
Melisandre's eyes burn in the sunlight streaming through the window.
"Azor Ahai is the Lord of Light's champion. A great warrior who will drive away the coming darkness and save the world from great evil." Melisandre proclaims.
Ostara still hasn't figured out what this great evil is but she's got a list of possibilities hidden in a book under her bed. She'd really like to talk to Him about it but Phil's been suspiciously absent since the tourney and Ostara isn't sure how to contact him. Which means she's been relying a bit too much on the Red Priestess for her liking. Now, of course, that Melisandre has done anything bad.
She's actually been quite helpful.
Ostara still isn't sure if she trusts the woman though.
"Oh, he sounds very fierce."
"It is an old prophecy but true none the less." Melisandre casts her a delighted look. "One that will be fulfilled within our lifetime if the Lord of Light so chooses."
Cerys flips honey blonde hair over her shoulder and smiles sweetly at Melisandre.
"Is that why you've come to Storm's End, Lady Melisandre? To preach the word of Azor Ahai?"
"I," Melisandre begins very carefully, "am a servant of R'hllor. It is my duty to serve him as best I can. Should it be my task to preach his word or to guide his champion through the darkness I shall do so."
This time when Ostara looks at the older woman she finds herself staring struck by the intensity of Melisandre's gaze. The determination alone is enough to make Ostara vaguely nervous.
~X~
In her dreams there is a being with an ashy-white wooden face. He has but one eye visible on his face, a red eye, red as freshly spilled blood. One eye for his face but a thousand burn in the darkness around them. All trained on Ostara's lone figure.
Ostara shifts back, prepared to run into the meticulously organized labyrinth of her mind.
She wonders if this is the enemy, the great evil she is meant to fight.
Across from her the man moves.
Closer, closer, closer he steps until Ostara can smell him. Until she can feel the deathly chill of his breath on her face.
"So you," the man says, voice like gravel, "are the one he has sent."
"Who are you?"
"Tell me child, will you burn bright during the long night? Will you survive when the cold comes and there is no warmth to comfort you? No food to fill your belly?" The being reaches out to stroke Ostara's cheek.
It's only then that she notices the wine-stain creeping up his neck and ending at his cheek. Something about it seems vaguely familiar. But before Ostara can recall why the man pulls away and his body changes. Ostara cries out as the darkness lunges forward to swallow him whole, leaving nothing but a three eyed crow in his place when the darkness recedes.
~X~
Mother, mother, what did you dream of? Ostara wakes panting, shaking, the world around her tilting and reeling. Mother, mother, what did you see?
She barely manages to register the fact that the voice is young and too familiar to be a stranger's before she pulls her wand from beneath her pillow.
"Who's there?"
The wardrobe door is firmly shut and locked, to reduce the risk of one of the dragons slipping through before Ostara wakes and stops it from getting into mischief. All-the-same, something moves in the shadows of her chamber. Something small with sharp spines along its back and wings similar to that of a bat.
"Janus?"
Yes.
"How did get here?"
There is a faint ripple of magic just before the shadows near the foot of Ostara's bed ripple and the little dragon in question steps through as though he were using a little door.
Ostara sucks in a deep breath.
Dragons, from what she's read, have a certain amount of personal magic but nothing that would allow something like this to happen.
Your magic, he says as he slips through another shadow and reappears on her shoulder, is strong mother. It has given us much.
"Can you... Can all of you do this?" Her voice cracks, a rising panic making it hard to speak.
Yes, and no, we can do that which your magic has allowed us to do.
"I don't understand." Ostara manages to breathe.
And the dragon merely curls around her neck, talons scraping little red lines into Ostara's shoulders and back, before he says, You will.
~X~
"Lord Darklyn has been arrested to treason. He's to be put to the sword within a sennight." Her father says the next morning at breakfast, "He's brought an entire host."
Ostara's stomach churns and her grip tightens on her fork.
"What of the rest?" Her mother inquires.
"Depends. If they've treated the King well during his imprisonment he may be lenient."
"I assume the Lady Serala will be put to death as well?"
Steffon goes very quiet for a long moment before nodding curtly. "Tywin has significant evidence against her."
Ostara pushes away from the table.
The lights in the room are a bit too bright, her food a bit too ashy in her mouth, and every subtle shift in the shadows around her has Ostara nearly jumping out of her skin. The fact of the matter is that she couldn't care less about Denys Darklyn and his Myrish bride. Historically, it isn't uncommon for people to be put to the sword and executed. Ostara might not agree with how they're executed depending on the way Aerys orders their deaths, and if he executes a child Ostara will certainly not support that, but Denys and Serala are adults.
They made their beds just as Ostara has.
Frankly, Ostara can't really focus on the Duskendale incident right now. Not when she's got three magically inclined baby dragons wreaking havoc on her mental well being.
Fuck, how am I supposed to hide them?
Because she has too. If anyone found out, Gods forbid her own mother, then Aerys would hear about it and while Ostara is willing to consider a political alliance for the sake of not offending the king and creating issues between her family and the Targaryens, Ostara is not even remotely in the mood to deal with the King's determination to wed her to his son simply because she has dragons.
Also, it's a bad idea to have her dragons just running around the whole of Westeros.
People do stupid, ugly things when they're afraid and a hatchling is easier to kill then a full grown dragon. Even then, the common folk hadn't had any trouble killing the Targaryen dragons when they stormed the Dragonpit all those years ago.
"Has Tywin spoken of the King's health?" Cassana asks before taking a sip of her tea.
"He has suffered some physical harm but nothing that can't be fixed in time."
That doesn't mean he's in good mental shape.
"Has the Prince ridden to Duskendale?" Cassana asks, eyes flickering toward Ostara.
"I highly doubt," Ostara finds herself retorting acidly, "that he wouldn't."
Once that's said Ostara places her silverware down and rises from the table. Not even asking to be excused before making her way out into the corridor where she finds Melisandre waiting for her with a sanguine sort of smile. Neither of them speak but Melisandre falls into step slightly behind Ostara, an act that makes the young witch slightly uncomfortable with whatever message Melisandre is trying to give out.
She always walks beside other people, even Ostara's father.
Not once has Ostara ever seen Melisandre not consider herself the equal of another. It's an admirable trait. One Ostara sometimes finds herself struggling with in certain situation. But it's the fact that the Red Priestess is purposefully walking behind her that makes Ostara wary.
~X~
The next time Ostara returns to her laboratory, with every intention of working on some potions that will incorporate the crushed remains of the dragon shells, she finds that two more dragons have hatched.
A Hungarian Horntail who calls himself Oryn and then Janus' female counterpart who insists that Ostara call her Nesrin but never Nessy or Rin.
Ostara can't help but feel like today is just one headache after the other.
Obviously she's delighted to meet her newest additions. How could she not be? She's interacting with dragons on not only a personal level but an academic level as well. She's already got enough notes on their behaviors as a family unit to make a thesis. It's lovely. Ostara loves it, them. Mostly them.
It's just that they don't have enough understanding of whats going on with this new and exciting aspect of their biology for Ostara to work with.
It's all guess work.
Ostara hates guess work.
Mostly because there isn't anyone she can bounce ideas off of. No one who would understand what she's talking about anyway. And even though she technically can run some fairly harmless tests to see how their magic works there's no way for her to actually do that to the extent Ostara wants.
Running a hand through her hair Ostara cooks up the meat she's brought with her, sets out new piles of gold for the two new members of her little family, and then she gathers the fragmented remains of the shells. Once that's done Ostara makes her way over to the work table where she begins grinding some of the shell pieces into a fine powder.
What are you doing?
"Testing a theory."
Theory?
"A system of ideas intended to explain something, especially one based on general principles independent of the thing to be explained."
What is your theory?
Ostara glances at Nesrin and smiles, "I don't really know yet."
Nesrin hisses, the spike on her tail whipping through the air a few times before she goes still again.
Then why?
"Because it keeps my mind busy."
It seems to be enough for her because Nesrin shakes her body before scuttling across the table and down one of the thick legs. After she's made it to the ground Nesrin shoots off toward her pile of gold which Janus is currently digging through. Ostara watches as they spread their wings at one another, extend their necks outward, and screech at one another. In the end Janus backs away from the gold, either not interested in or unable to fight Nesrin over it.
Ostara shakes her head and returns to her previous task.
Again, an entire thesis.