Book 3: Light

"There is no shame in fear, my father told me, what matters is how we face it."

If this is death, it isn't too awful.

If I can think, is this death?

Dany could not remember why she expected to be dead, but was fairly certain that she wasn't. She was definitely laying on something, at that perfect temperature and feeling right as sleep begins to give way to being awake.

Had she been asleep? She wasn't sure. It was definitely the inside of her eyelids that she could now see. And her senses felt as though they were beginning to wake up from a long, heavy slumber. A pleasant buzz filled her ears, she knew there was light beyond her eyelids, and she could just feel the soft surface on which she was laying. It seemed to cocoon around her protectively.

Although she knew she was comfortable, at the recognition of feelings and surroundings, her body began to feel exhausted. For the first time, Dany also felt pain.

Her head throbbed, and there was an ache seemingly everywhere. It took a very long time for her mind to tell her fingers to try moving, and even raising one seemed like a gargantuan task, as if the weight of all the Iron Bank's coin was being held by her one finger. The idea of moving any more or opening her eyes was impossible. She couldn't possibly do any more than lay here forever. Wherever "here" was. Where was she?

From somewhere inside her, she felt the tiniest flutter separate from the pain and the sleepiness. It was soothing and familiar, encouraging even, and reminded her of butterfly wings. Missandei?

Maybe this was death. Maybe when she finally was able to open her eyes she would be back on the white beach with her friend by her side, ready to lead her...wherever they went.

On.

No, I don't think I want to go yet, she thought, feeling her mind more firmly awake than before. Unfortunately, this meant her body hurt more as well, but it confirmed that she was not moving on. Dany was very much alive. She tested her fingers again, able to move her entire hand a little easier this time. Another hand grasped hers as she moved. It was warm and calloused, but not unfriendly. She knew it. Not the cool, slender hands of her closest friend come to guide her away, but the hands that knew her better than anyone in the world. Definitely attached to the person who could say the same.

Dany's eyes fluttered open at the realization of who was with her. At first, her vision was blurry in the daylight. She could see the shapes of the room etched out in bleeding lines around her. Closest of all was a weathered shape with black hair. The shape that held her hand.

"Jon?" she whispered. Her voice rasped as if it had not been used in an eon. As she spoke this word, Dany felt her chapped lips stretch and crack, and how dry and sore her mouth was. Stretching the muscles in her mouth for that one word was uncomfortable in a way Dany equated with standing after sitting cross-legged on the floor with Rose for a long time.

Rose.

Rose. Willa. The beach, the slavers, the children, the dragons, Dorand….

Suddenly, her heart was racing. The calm she had felt with first conscious thought had evaporated, and Dany would have bolted from laying in bed if Jon had not braced her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Easy, Dany, easy," Jon said in a low voice, "Just rest." His hand left her shoulder and smoothed back her hair gently. Dany was able to see his face more clearly now. Dark circles cradled his eyes, and the shadow of a frown stalked his face. Despite how calm he sounded, Jon looked as worn out as Dany felt. But how? He was gone, how was he here? And where was here? And where was her daughter? Willa? The children? The dragons? Her baby?

"Th - the - the," Dany stammered. Words did not seem to come to her tongue, but her mind raced on, demanding the answers to every question it had. Her headache was getting much worse.

Jon smoothed back her hair again. "It's okay, Dany. I'll answer every question you have, my love, just breathe first," he told her.

Swallowing dryly, like she had shoved wool into her mouth and forced it down, Dany took a deep breath. Unable to pick a specific question to ask first, Dany settled on a basic one: "What happened?"

Obviously she knew what happened. She remembered. But then...what happened?

"What do you remember last?" Jon prompted.

It only took a second to recall the pain, the screaming, and the word called out. Zaldrīzoti.

"I thought - I thought we were going to die on that beach," Dany said, unable to put the chaotic memories into words, "And that - Jon, what about the children?"

"They're okay," Jon said, "All of them. Rose, and all of them. Shaken. Badly. But they're okay."

"And...and our baby?"

"Is okay too," he reassured her, moving his hand from her head to her stomach, which still swelled with hinted life, "You're quite bruised, but you'll both be okay. Willa tells me that about seven times a day right now."

"Willa's been here?"

"She's mending like everyone else. We were just waiting on you, Dany."

Dany furrowed her brow. "How - how long have I been out?"

"In and out for nearly a week," Jon replied, worry crossing over his face again, "You've been stirring a lot since yesterday. Willa said your head took the worst of it so we just needed to wait it out."

"A week?"

"Dany, you're panicking again. Just rest, I'll explain everything I know."

Jon launched into his story of the events that had taken place over the last week, while Dany listened with rapt attention. In the back of her mind, a mantra beat over and over with Jon's words. They're okay. They're okay. They're okay. Her daughter, her baby, her friend, the village children, they were all okay.

Except for Dorand, a voice reminded her.

Also sensing the impending snow that Willa had smelled in the beginning of the day, the hunting expedition had decided to return to Shadowedge a day early. They returned to a frozen village, misty and blue, with several sets of footprints leading towards the cliffs and Old Dryn asleep in his house, not quite sure where everyone had gone.

Immediately concerned, a party of several hunters headed to the cliffs to search for those missing. On Embar, Jon rode ahead, covering ground much more quickly with the stallion's massive stride. Just before the edge of the cliffs, Jon came across a tiny figure hurtling towards him: a streaking flash of red hair against the icy landscape.

Without hesitation, Myl had shouted at him, "The beach! Need help!"

"Go tell the others!" Jon ordered the young boy, with the bruised and bloody face, "Go now!"

As Myl took off again, pushing his little legs past what any five year-old should have to do, Jon urged Embar onwards. He would have galloped down the cliff path had it not been slick with ice and treacherous even when dry. Nearly leaping off the lowest edge, he followed the footprints through the thick, frozen mist until he came across the first body.

"No," Jon had choked as he saw the silver hair and small frame splayed in the gray sand streaked with red. Wight-like, he dismounted from Embar and left the horse, stumbling to his wife's body and collapsing on his knees beside her.

Her hand still clenched sand and he could see the faint trickle of blood from her mouth. As he palmed the ice-colored hair, cradling Dany's head, others made themselves known for the first time.

"She's breathing, she's still alive," Willa panted from Dany's other side. She was slumped on the ground, leaning on a protruding black rock from the sand, her face swollen with welts and gashes and her left arm was sitting unnaturally. Around her, nine children with round eyes in various states of fear were standing and sitting. Most of them sported mild injuries that reminded Jon of what Myl looked like. A couple of the ones sitting had limbs sticking out at odd angles like Willa's arm. All of them had shiny faces with frozen tears. Some looked at Willa, some at Jon, and a few just looked anywhere except to their left, where the sand was a dark red and two men lay broken and further on, Jon could see three more badly disfigured. With a wrench, Jon recognized Dorand; his eyes were drawn to the man who he had always thought of as a pillar of strength among the free folk and he did not dwell on what had caused the other strange mens' mortal injuries.

"We need," Willa labored, breaking Jon from his gaze, "To get Dany - back to Shadowedge. Before - they freeze. I tried, I can't move her."

"I can carry her," Jon said immediately, "And more people are on the way to help. We saw your footprints. Can you walk?"

Willa nodded, grimacing and seeming to regret moving her head that much. "Devyn and Rowan can't, though," she said, "Nor can Rose."

"They'll ride Embar," Jon told her, painstakingly resting Dany's head back down for a moment and whistling to the horse.

Proud as ever, Embar trotted over and stopped in front of Dany. With a sad nicker, he sniffed her, pressing his velvety white nose into her side. Dany did not stir, but moaned quietly, in a pained tone that caused anguish to flood through Jon.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Jon came over to the children. He picked up Devyn first and carried him over to Embar, lifting the boy onto the horse's broad back. Devyn winced as his ankle knocked into Embar's side, but scrunched up his face and did not whimper. The young boy seemed to fractionally relax once he settled onto the horse.

Next, Jon placed Rowan behind Devyn and instructed her to hold around Devyn's waist. Then came Rose.

"Let me ride with her," little Thistle piped up immediately, "I've been holding her the whole time."

Smiling slightly in acknowledgement, Jon nodded and picked up Thistle, placing her in front of Devyn. The young girl made sure not to touch Devyn's ankle as she got situated right behind Embar's withers. Finally, Jon picked up his daughter. Rose looked absolutely petrified, and fussed against Jon, reaching every way to break free from his arms.

Thistle stretched out her hands and helped take Rose onto Embar, holding her snugly onto the stallion's back. Jon wrenched his thoughts away from his fussing daughter and back to the present situation. Certain that everyone was secure on Embar, he came over to Willa and helped the healer stand up. Willa sucked in a hissing breath as she stood and jostled her arm, swearing horribly.

When she had finished, Jon turned to the other children. "All of you stay very close to Willa," he said, "You have to make sure we all get up this cliff so we can go home."

"What about Dorand?" one of them asked in a quavering voice.

Briefly, Jon let his eyes wander to the body a few feet away. "He'll come home too," he promised, "But first we need to get you back."

Gently, Jon knelt to lift Dany into his arms. His wife was freezing and so still he would have thought Willa was lying if he had not felt the low, far apart breaths for himself. Holding her close to his chest, he began to lead everyone along the cliff back to the path they came from. Embar walked carefully behind, much more fluid than he usually was when he was not engaged by a rider. Jon guessed, after having spent a week with the horse, that he was intelligent enough to be careful not to jostle anyone too badly with his loping gait.

Suddenly, overhead, Jon heard the thunder of what he thought was an enormous gust of wind. It was rhythmic and loud, and the walking children began to whine. He turned to see them looking up apprehensively, cowering close to Willa.

As Jon followed their gaze, he heard Willa reassure them. "It's all right," she said bravely, "They saved us, remember?"

The beat of the wind came closer, and Jon saw the black and white figures of creatures he had not seen since the frozen wastes of the Mammoth's Head.

"We brought all of you back to Shadowedge and Willa organized the healing and mending for everyone. Once we knew you were going to be okay and you could be moved from her house, I brought you home," Jon said, "Although Rose is still with Willa and Tormund. She's seen you every day but she doesn't understand why you didn't respond when she called for you - you were awake a few times but I don't think you knew you were - so we thought it was best she stayed distracted."

Dany nodded slowly, still processing everything Jon had said. They were okay. They made it out alive. She was the last one to wake up of those who had that luxury. Once again, her stomach twisted as she remembered Dorand.

"What happened...to Dorand?" she asked grimly.

Briefly, Jon glanced around their house before answering. "We...brought him back. Burned the other bodies on the shore, but we gave Dorand the proper burial just as soon as everyone was well enough to be there."

"He saved my life," Dany murmured, "Saved all of us."

Jon nodded. "Willa told me what happened. He was a good man. And I'll forever be in his debt."

"And Enda and Nerell?"

"With Willa for now," Jon said, "They're still in shock and she's...good with that sort of stuff. They come with Rose each day."

"When can I see her? And them? And Willa?" Dany asked in rapid succession.

Peeking out the window, Jon replied, "Mm...probably in a few hours. It's just before midday. It's good that you're awake - there are some things we need to discuss with some of the other village leaders and I wanted to hold off until you were awake."

"What other things?" Dany asked, "Is it the slavers? The dragons? Are Drogon and Saphira still here or did they leave? What about - "

"Patience, Dany," Jon said, holding up his hands, "We'll talk about everything else once Willa and Tormund get here with the kids. Why don't I get you something to eat?"

Taking a breath to calm herself once more, Dany nodded and Jon smiled. He leaned down and kissed her forehead before heading over to the fire where, for the first time, Dany noticed the glowing egg resting in its normal place on the mantle. It looked unchanged from a week ago, spared from the trauma that everyone else had experienced. But, to Dany, it felt as if this was the only thing that hadn't changed. The world was suddenly a lot smaller, even though less lives were in it. And as much as she wanted to hold her daughter again and see her friends, Dany could not help but worrying that it would never feel the same as before.