(A.N. are below)

The Blood Of The Dragon

I

Celebrations

ELAENA

The day was clear; there were no clouds in the sky, and the sun shone with all the might of summer. It was rather hot, but a light breeze made the heat enjoyable.

Elaena found herself resting in a beautiful meadow full of wildflowers, wearing an exquisite gown of sheer ivory silk adorned with myrish lace and seed pearls. She was looking at a lake; it was beautiful too. It seemed as if a thousand diamonds danced under the sun.

The water looked inviting, so inviting, in fact, that she decided to head towards the lake, walking carelessly down the small hill, enjoying the feeling of wildflowers gently grazing her hands.

When she arrived at the lake, she dipped her feet on the lake shore. It felt so good and refreshing that she didn't care if her beautiful dress got wet.

She stood there for a moment watching the landscape before her: the deep foliage on the other side of the lake and the magnificent rugged mountains that rose above it.

Everything is so beautiful and sublime, Elaena thought. Everything seemed so lively and wonderful.

Suddenly a blue blur flashed past her; it was a bluebird. Elaena tried to follow the bird with her eyes, but it got lost in the blue. However, in the direction where the bird flew, Elaena noticed a white stone tower with a golden dome held only by marble columns.

Maybe the bluebird went there. I wouldn't blame the little thing, Elaena thought as she examined the structure. She had never seen something quite like that. She had to know what it was.

As she grew closer to the building, Elaena noticed the marvellous white stone railing of the stairs that circled the tower. The moment she arrived, she wasted no time and immediately climbed up the stairs.

When Elaena reached the top, she was flustered and out of breath, but it didn't matter to her. It didn't matter to her because of how beautiful it was up there. The marble columns had intricate details made out of gold, and the golden dome, dark and deep blue from within, had silver stars painted on it, depicting a starry night. But the most beautiful part was the floor. It was a mosaic depicting people, animals and dragons too.

But at the centre of it, in a four-foot-wide circle, the mosaic depicted a crescent moon over the sun. They were kissing, Elaena thought.

The girl reached over the stone-carved balustrade and gaped at the view. Up there it was even more beautiful.

However, as she took in the view, she noticed a man standing by the lakeside, all by himself. In an act of rare boldness, Elaena called out for the man, but he did not seem to have heard her, or perhaps he was only ignoring her. She decided that it didn't matter. She will climb down the stairs and face the man herself.

But when she reached the ground and looked where the man had been standing, there was no one. And when she walked to the place itself, she could not see anyone either. How could it be? It was as if he had vanished. Elaena was astounded.

But her astonishment did not last long. She heard his voice from afar.

"Elaena!"

It was her prince, her dashing Prince Edric. Had he been the man she saw? Elaena wondered, but little did it matter when she finally saw her Edric. He was galloping in his snow-white stallion, looking oh-so-handsome in his deep blue doublet.

"My lady," He said, smiling at her, "I have been looking for you".

Elaena could barely believe his words, "You have?" She asked, mayhaps sounding too hopeful.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be looking for you, my sweet Elaena?" He was just so charming and gallant.

She blushed a little at that, but she didn't care. And how could she? It felt so sweet! "What can I do for you, my prince?"

"You can call me Eddy," He said as he extended his hand for her, "Come with me, Lena,"

"Of course, Eddy," She voiced and took his hand. The prince hoisted her up and sat her in front of him. Elaena did not mind the closeness. And the prince began riding again.

"Where are we going?" Elaena found herself asking even if she did not truly care for the answer.

"Where everyone is, of course," He told her casually.

"But where is that?"

He turned to her smiling and told her, "You'll see." With that any doubt in Elaena melted away.

The ride was long, and Elaena enjoyed every second of it. They had crossed a beautiful river, a beautiful forest, a beautiful stone bridge and a beautiful village. Until finally, they arrived at an extraordinarily beautiful sept.

Her prince climbed off his horse and proceeded to help her do the same, "We have arrived, my sweet Elaena," He had told her in his smooth yet vigorous voice. Edric took her by the hand and led her to the beautiful white sept.

Could someone be more gallant?

The doors opened before them. At the back, in the middle of the altars of the seven, was Edric.

When did he get so far away? Elaena thought, but he looked so handsome that it didn't matter at all. He was now wearing a golden crown that resembled antlers and a heavy golden cloak bearing the Baratheon sigil. A marriage cloak, Elaena realised. But where is mine?

Suddenly, she felt that a weight had been added to her shoulders, A cloak? She thought as she looked at the seahorse brooch that fastened the garment around her neck.

She turned around to see who had put the bridal cloak on her and found a man who looked so familiar to her: he had silver hair and a silver moustache to match, a windburnt face and light cornflower-blue eyes like herses. His smile made her feel sad, though Elaena didn't know why.

The familiar stranger took her by the arm and led her to where her prince was. She brushed aside those feelings of sadness and kept walking, glancing at the guests. There were many great lords and ladies, famous knights and kind maidens: She could see Lords and Ladies of Stonehelm, Old Oak, Claw Isle, Ashemark, Hightower, Stokeworth and many more, including her own grandfather Lord Tywin, who was standing proud in the first row next to her mother.

And her mother. She was smiling! She looks so beautiful when she smiles, Elaena thought.

Her mother was wearing a gorgeous jade-green gown and a golden necklace with emeralds. She was flanked by Tommen and Myrcella, both of them, dressed in rich golds.

On the other side, she saw her grandmother, her silver hair woven beneath an ornate heart-shaped hennin of dark purple velvet that matched her dress.

The queen was there too, tall and dignified as always, with a little black-haired girl Elaena could not recognise.

And everyone was singing the song of the Maiden.

The man had taken her to her prince by then and removed the cloak he had given her. She looked at him again and saw that familiar smile. She has seen this man before.

Then it hit her.

"Father?" But how could it be? Her father had died when she was six years old. And by the time she turned seven, her mother had a new husband and another child, Myrcella and Tommen were proof of it, and they were there! How could this be? Her father was dead under the sea!

Unless.

The man had opened his mouth to say something but Elaena could hear nothing of it. They were singing too loud.

"What?!" She asked her father again, this time louder; she could barely hear herself.

Her father opened his mouth again, but the singing was too loud; they were screaming now.

"Lena! Lena! Lena!" They all chanted together in a repulsive cacophony.

And she woke up, yet the noise persisted.

"Lena! Lena!" It was a child's voice now instead of a chorus of hundreds. Elaena turned her head to the noise only to see her nephew jumping with all the excitement of his four years.

It was just a dream.

"Monty," She said, her voice groggy, "What do you want?"

"It's your name day, Lena!" The little boy insisted, "You are getting presents and gifts! And everything you wish! Nuncle said"

I doubt that he meant it. Elaena thought. Her brother had a penchant for lying.

Her nephew latched into her arm and began pulling her out of her bed, "Come on, Lena! Let's have breakfast and gifts!"

"Let go of my arm" She pulled out her arm, freeing it from the child, "And let me get ready at least." Elaena got out of her bed, "Go and fetch me Danelle," She told Monterys.

"That would not be necessary, sister," Her brother said as he entered the room. Behind him, Elaena could see a group of three women: an older one with sandy blonde hair laced with grey and lines on her face, a young one who couldn't be much older than Elaena herself, who had silver hair. But they both paled beside the third one; she was at least six feet tall, lean and long-limbed and had ebony black skin. She is beautiful, Elaena thought. She was from the fabled Summer Isles, no doubt.

"Aurane," She tugged at her brother and drew him away from the strangers, "Who are these women? Why are they here?" She half-whispered.

"These?" Aurane asked with feigned innocence, "These are slaves. From Lys. Your name day gift from your beloved brothers," He clarified.

Elaena's eyes grew large as plates, "Slaves?! Have you gone mad?! Slavery is forbidden!"

"We didn't buy them." He countered, "We just bought certain services." He said with a sleazy smile.

Her lip curled in disgust at the implication. "How are they my name day present?"

"They will... Ah! Help you get ready for today." He ran his hand over his silver hair. "After all, it is your first name day as a woman grown. You'll surely need help." With that he left the room and Monterys followed shortly after, leaving her alone with these strangers.

"My Lady Elaena," The elder of the slave women came forward, "Would you please accompany us to the bath?"

What else could she do?

Elaena followed the women to her grandmother's bath. It was a valyrian bath, The Dragonlords of old used to have them in their states and manses back in ancient Valyria, Volantis and Lys. They are still popular in the latter two.

Her grandfather, a man she never knew, had built it shortly after she had given him a fourth son, her father, Lucerys.

That gesture has always struck her as romantic. Would Prince Edric do something similar for her? Elaena didn't know; she could only dream of it.

When they arrived at the bath, Elaena noticed that the Lyseni were already installed there. They brought a padded couch that had a white silk sheet fastened on top of it and a copper tub. Elaena also noted that steam had filled the room.

They had lit the furnaces under the pool, Elaena realised. The huge glass window was completely fogged; the sea and morning sky could not be seen.

The three women helped her off her bedrobe and unbraided her hair. They helped her into the tub. The water was scalding, but Elaena liked it that way. It made her feel clean.

Her grandmother said it was because they were the blood of the dragon lords. But Elaena never truly felt like one. The last dragon lords had died way before she had been born.

The older woman washed her hair while the other two scrubbed her back, feet, rear and womanhood. They were gentle in their touch, though meticulous as well. It was relaxing.

As they worked, Elaena couldn't help but notice how smooth the skin of the Summer Islander was. And how lustrous it looked. Like polished jet.

She wasn't sure if it was because of how relaxed she was, but with inexplicable impudence Elaena said. "Your skin looks so smooth and..." Then she realised her mistake. "I am sorry. I should have asked for your name... All of yours." She corrected herself.

"My name is Jhalana." The Summer Islander said. She had a thick accent, but her voice was melodic and sweet.

"Mine is Iryna." The silver-haired girl said in a surprisingly husky voice.

"And mine is Sandy; because of my hair." The eldest told her. Elaena could only nod in understanding; she was too afraid to ask who had named her that. Slavers were cruel people; Aurane had told her once.

The slave women finished their ministrations and helped her out of the copper tub. They wrapped her in towels and dried every nook of her body and hair.

As they led her to the padded couch, Elaena saw that the other two women also did not have any semblance of hair in their arms, not even peach fuss. Completely smooth, like grandmother's.

Then it dawned upon her. That is their gift! It must have been her grandmother's idea, no doubt.

"Forgive me but... Are you going to shave my...?" She asked anxiously. Her grandmother had told her about the process and how painful it could be.

The older woman was the one who answered. "Yes, your hair my lady. That is why we are here. Your brothers contracted our bathhouse for this special occasion." Her voice was soothing but dry. "You are a maiden now. Your brothers told us. She must become the fairest of them all. They said. For she will one day marry the prince."

Elaena felt butterflies fluttering in her tummy. "Will the prince be... Pleased with this?"

One of the women muffled a giggle, the one with the silver hair, "Everyone in Lys loves smooth and hairless skin. Men and women alike." She said with a mischievous grin. "Many a people from all around the world would bring their paramours or bedslaves to our bathhouse so we could cleanse them."

Cleanse? Elaena did not like the sound of that. "Even from here? From Westeros, I mean,"

Sandy gave a small chuckle. "Of course. Wealthy merchants, knights and lords from the Seven Kingdoms. Many bring paramours and some even their wives." The older woman clarified.

The three women began applying the hot wax to her skin. Like with the water, Elaena enjoyed the sensation of the hot molten wax.

But her joy ended as soon as Sandy removed the wax. It was a swift and effortless motion, but the pain was excruciating.

They repeated the process again and again. Sometimes it hurt less, like with her shins and forearms. Sometimes, like with her armpits and womanhood, the pain was almost unbearable.

Even as she screamed and whimpered the women continued their work.

When they were finished, they cleansed Elaena from any leftover wax in her body and began applying some lotion. The balm felt cool on her skin, yet Elaena couldn't help but feel a scorching sensation under her skin.

"What is this? It burns," She asked Sandy.

"It's G'rash's venom. Though, you don't need to worry, my lady, it is harmless to men. However, it has the queer property of eliminating hair growth."

"That sounds practical," Elaena said. And dangerous, she might have added as well.

Sandy smiled at her, "It is. But it is expensive. G'rashs are rare and hard to come by, and the Qartheen can be prickly with its exportation. ten times its weight in gold, but there is always a smuggler that will settle for less."

What is a G'rash? Some animal? An insect? Elaena pondered but decided it was best not to ask. She didn't want to appear foolish in front of them. Mother says asking too much only made her seem stupid and puerile.

"Children ask questions and men answer them, and seldom they answer truthfully. You should never ask for answers and expect them to be true, Elaena. No one owes you anything, least of all truth. You are old enough now, look for the answers yourself." She told her once, and that was something Elaena will never forget.

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They took her back to her chambers and dressed her in a fancy dress of lilac samite. After that, she left for the morning table. Her family was waiting for her to break their fast.

Everyone was there (everyone from her father's family, that is); her grandmother, her brothers Aurane and Monford, and little Monterys sat with Alyssa, his mother. But there was someone else she did not recognise. It was an older woman, about her grandmother's age by the looks of it. She was clad in a high-neck black gown. She looked elegant but dour.

"Lena!" Monty shouted. "Happy name day!" He was yelling in an excited manner. His mother chastised him for that. Mother used to do the same with me, Elaena reflected. She smiled at them and muttered a salutation.

Alyssa rose from her seat, as everyone but the two elderly women, and greeted her, "Elaena, good morrow."

"How was it?" Aurane asked, and Elaena could see the suggestion in his eyes, so she decided it would be best to ignore him. He loves making people uncomfortable. Her grandmother seemed to have noticed it too, since she shot him a frosty glance at him.

Even well passed seventy, Lady Haelen of Volantis remained distinguished and quick of wit (though sometimes her wits would fail her). She was from the blood of the dragon too, and looking at her it was plain to see why: silver hair –turned snow-white by age–, pale skin and pale lilac eyes.

Her grandmother turned to her, and her features softened, "You look beautiful, my dear," She told her.

"Elaena," Her brother, Lord Monford, called. He was wearing a handsome sea-green doublet, "This is Lady Baela, our great aunt. You must remember her, surely," He signalled at the old woman.

Elaena examined the woman. Like her grandmother, she had snow-white hair, but she wore it tied behind her head in a widow's knot. Her eyes were clouded and milk white, yet shrewish. She seemed familiar, but Elaena could not recall.

"I doubt that she does, Monford," Old Lady Baela said in a dry and sour voice, "It has been many years."

There was something about that woman that unsettled Elaena. During breakfast, the old woman stared at her, studied her! Which was odd since Elaena was quite sure that the woman was blind.

With those eyes, how could she not?

After they all finished eating, It was time for her name day gifts.

Her brothers gifted her with the Lysene Cleansing, so they barely took part in the rutine.

Her good-sister and little Monterys shared a gift; an old book with songs of the Seven Kingdoms. She wasn't much of a singer, but she appreciated the gesture, nonetheless, and thanked them both.

A bunch of ornate boxes came in carrying gifts from neighbouring lords and the such. Some of them were big, others small, some more luxurious and a few more simple. All of them bore their respective heraldry. But regardless, there were far too many gifts; more than Elaena had ever received on any other name day before. Lady Baela said it was because she was a maiden newly flowered, pretty enough and nicely dowered. Elaena wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Elaena opened the boxes one by one and examined the gifts: a silver and garnet ring from House Celtigar; a white-gold swordfish brooch and an extensive letter from the young Lord Duram Bar Emmon; a high harp from House Massey; a lute from Lord Gyles Rosby; a necklace adorned with moonstones and the seven-pointed star of the Faith from Lord Guncer Sunglass; a small gilded bracelet with emeralds from House Pyne; another lute, this one painted in gold, from house Plumm; a second high harp from Ser Bryen Farring; a modest silver necklace with a lonely amethyst from Ser Elwood Harte.

What will I do with so many jewels and instruments? Elaena wondered.

The last box was small and of redwood ornated with gold bearing the roaring lion of House Lannister. Her mother's gift, no doubt. Inside of it was a golden necklace with three large gemstones of light pale blue colour. Under the neckband, there was a note.

For my beloved daughter, sapphires to match the blue of your eyes. Your Lady mother, Cersei of House Lannister.

Elaena placed the note aside, took the necklace out of the box and showed it to her family. "Sapphires, from my mother."

"I have never seen ones so... bright. They are beautiful" Alyssa complimented.

"I have," Aurane chirped in, "Two years ago when Ford and I went to Lys to–"

Monford cut off his brother with a cough; he was blushing, and Elaena thought she knew why. Two years ago, her brothers took Lord Vaemond to Lys. They had claimed it was for trade, but they returned with no goods or tressures, after that Elaena had to contend with Alyssa's seething for a month. And now, by the looks of it, she may start fuming once again.

Elaena decided it would be best to keep some semblance of peace, so she asked the servants to bring the pigeon pie and the singers. It is best to end this sooner than later, Elaena thought glumly.

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At evenfall, her grandmother had summoned her to her solar.

Elaena found her grandmother there, but also Lady Baela. Both women were seated in armchairs, and between them stood an oak chest.

"Grandmother, Lady Baela." She announced herself.

"Elaena, darling. Please take a seat." And so she did. "You may be wondering why I ask you to come here. Well, you'll see–"

As she always did, her grandmother was trying to thoroughly explain everything to her. But the Lady Baela was having none of that. "Cut the chase, Haelen. Give her your gift already."

Confused, she looked at her grandmother. "Your gift? What does Lady Baela mean? I thought the Lysene Cleansing was your idea?"

"Lysene Cleansing?! Haelen, are you mad?! Are are you intending to sell your granddaughter to a fancy brothel?"

Her grandmother did not took the comment lightly.

"I had one when I was her age." She said, voice laced with anger but her face remained still like a stone. "And I must remind you that you wanted one when you were young."

"That was years ago. Back when it was known as a Qartheen Cleansing or as the Norvoshi Bath. Now every whore and bedslave in Lys has had one."

"Norvoshi noblewomen still use it to shave off all of their hair." Haelen argued.

"To please their bearded priests." Baela retorted. "In Lys women do it to please their patrons."

Elaena blushed at the implication. What about the many lords' lady wives Sandy mentioned? Elaena wanted to ask, but the words got stuck in her throat. This would happen to her sometimes, more often with strangers, unfriendly strangers.

But her grandmother wasn't like her. "I'll have you know that in Volantis many of my great-nieces and great-nephews had had one too." She said offended.

"Oh please, the Saerys family is hardly the pinnacle of Volantene nobility." Lady Baela pointed out.

And it was true. As rich as the Saerys were and as pure their bloodline was, the truth was that it had been founded a century and a half ago by the bastard son of a triarch and a Targaryen princess of ill repute.

"Well, that doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done." Her grandmother said coldly. "Besides, let's get over with this quickly as you asked, Baela." She turned to look at her, her features softened. "Elaena, please come and open the box."

Elaena rose from her seat and approached her grandmother to open the box. When she did, she found piles of silk, satin and other expensive fabrics, and resting on top, nestled in the soft cloths, some strange egg.

It was big, and blue and silver scales covered its surface, shining bright as jewels by the light of lamps and candles. Elaena ran a hand over the egg; it was surprisingly smooth to the touch.

"Is this..?"

"A dragon's egg, yes." Lady Baela answered. "An heirloom. It has been in our family for a long time."

Elaena picked up the egg carefully. It was heavier than she thought. "Dragon eggs are far too precious. Why are you giving it to me?" She asked, confused. "Monford is the Lord. Shouldn't you give him the egg?"

Her grandmother smiled. "Your brother has Driftmark, and so will Monterys when his time comes. And Aurane... is Aurane."

She knew what her grandmother meant. As much as she loved her brother, Aurane was a bastard, a reckless one at that.

"And besides, the egg is the same blue of your eyes. As if it was meant to be."

Elaena frowned and looked down at the dragon's egg, as if to find some answer in the swirls of silver and blue scales. It did somewhat have her colouring. My dragon egg...

Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф

MAEGOR

"And you claim to be the son of Ser Baelor Targaryen?" The obese man stroked one of the prongs of his oiled yellow beard. "Can you perhaps prove this claim of yours?"

"I have a ring with Prince Rhaegel's seal." Maegor said as he twisted the ring off his pinky (it didn't fit his other fingers) and held it out to him. Illyrio let loose of his oily beard and took the ring.

He studied the weight with his hand. "I know platinum very well, young man. And this... is indeed." His eyes narrowed as he examined the seal. "A signet. It bears three three-headed dragons; the personal crest of Prince Rhaegel. Authentic, no doubt. But how do I know that you didn't steal it from someone else?" He came closer to him, and Maegor was able to smell the scent of the old man's flesh. "You look like a Targaryen, I grant you. But you may as well be some Lysene. You talk like one, too." Illyrio was now studying him instead of the ring. "Who gave you this ring? Speak truly."

"My mother gave it to me when I was a child."

"Did she now?" The fat man's voice felt slightly condescending. "Ser Baelor only married once, and since you claim to be trueborn your mother had to have been his wife. You must surely know her name then."

"Marys!" Maegor blurted, now in the common tongue of Westeros. "Her name was Marys. She was a Celtigar from Claw Isle. Her father was Ser Arthor Celtigar, the Quick Axe, and her uncle is Lord Ardrian, who still lives."

The fat man looked at him intently, and asked. "Do you know Lord Ardrian?"

"Not really..." He said, abashed. "But I do know my uncle. My mother's brother." He clarified "Ser Damion. He lives in Claw isle, and he has fought in... many battles." He almost said the Greyjoy rebellion. If this magister indeed has the last Targaryens, Maegor doubted that he would like that detail to be mentioned.

"So I've heard..." Illyrio stroked his beard again. "You speak the common tongue; you have Prince Rhaegel's signet; you seem to know way more than I expected... I find no reason not to believe you." The fat man handed back his ring. "Ser Maegor."

Maegor took the ring back and felt a sense of relief. It was the only thing he had left of his father.

"But. I want to know something, Ser Maegor. What are you seeking from me?"

It was a good question.

Should he tell him it was because of a dream? Or maybe fate? Maegor was sure that the magister would not believe that. Damion didn't.

A dragon rising with the morning sun. A dragon rising from the east. Damion had called it nonsense and urged him to stay.

What should he say, then? That it was because of a small chance for glory? The magister would think him frivolous.

A purpose, maybe? Maegor looked at the ring in his hand. He thought of his own father, a man he never knew, and Ser Galladon –Don–, a man he had known almost his entire life. Don used to say that all knights had a purpose in life. Someone to swore their swords to.

"I am a knight, my lord. And I wish to serve House Targaryen just as my father and grandfather did before me. I wish to serve the true King!"

Illyrio smiled, showing a mouth full of yellow crooked teeth. It was somehow just as oily as his beard. "You wish to serve the true King. A gallant notion, no doubt."

"A knight must be gallant, my lord," Maegor said, sticking his chest out slightly.

Illyrio's smile did not strain, but something about it change, Maegor was certain. "And honourable. A true knight must be honourable. Otherwise, what would make a knight any different from a common sellsword."

Don served as a sellsword. He thought unappealingly. He had always seemed honourable to Maegor. He came back for me; he could have abandoned me and returned to Westeros. But he didn't. Don came back for me.

The scar on his cheek began to itch. He fought the need to scratch it away.

"Aye, my lord. A true knight is honourable and loyal."

"And eager for battle…" The magister added for him. "You are a strong and vigorous young knight, full of promise and hungry for glory. Your King needs men like you. Your true King, I mean."

He stood there, unsure on what to say next. Though not shy, Maegor had never been good with words.

"The rumours are true, Ser Maegor. Here in my manse resides the last members of House Targaryen."

The dragon rising with the morning sun. The dragon rising from the east.

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The last Targaryens were not what he expected.

Besides the silver-gold hair and lilac eyes the rightful heir to the Iron throne, Viserys, third of his name, was small and gaunt.

His wife, the princess Rhaenys, though fetching with those black eyes and hair and that smooth skin, lacked the valyrian look he had come to expect.

And Viserys' sister was a child.

A child that's marrying one of the mightiest Khals ever known to men.

The notion made him uncomfortable. The Dothraki had queer tastes, he knew. Yet Maegor thought it would have been better if Viserys waited a bit longer before marrying his sister. But it was best if he said nothing, as always.

Other than the expected pleasantries, the dinner began and continued in silence. Until Rhaenys broke it.

"You must forgive me, cousin." The princess said with a hint of a smile. "But I must ask if you are really a knight? You see, knights are hard to come by here in Essos, especially those who are willing to knight somebody else. Please, do not mistake this for a slight upon your honour, ser. It's just… the oddity of it all."

"None taken, princess." Maegor stammered a bit with his courtesies. "I was knighted by Ser Galladon Storm about a year ago." In his deathbed in a modest hut in Claw Isle… Maegor may as well have added. But instead he said. "He served in Dragonstone."

"A bastard from the Stormlands? Serving in Dragonstone?" Rhaenys glanced at her husband, he shrugged uninterested.

"Some household knight, no doubt." Viserys disregarded.

"He swore loyalty to my grandfather years ago, and has been loyal to our family ever since. He protected me and my mother after we fled from Dragonstone." Maegor said offended.

Viserys' lips curled up in a grimace. "As he should have."

"He sounds chivalrous, Ser Maegor" Daenerys said plaintively.

"And what do you know of chivalry? You only know one, and Mormont is hardly a knight."

Without thinking, he opened his mouth and asked. "Mormont? That's a northern name, isn't it?" The look that Viserys cast him made Maegor realise his mistake and added their title "your graces" as he should.

Thankfully the princess Rhaenys did not seem to mind his awkward manner. "Please, Maegor, we all share the blood of the dragon here." She turned to smile at her husband. "And as for your question, yes... House Mormont is from the north." The princess turned to look at him; her eyes held an intensity that made him uncomfortable. "His House fought for the usurper. And he married a Hightower, sister to the queen, so by the laws they are brothers too." She drank some of the wine. "If that is what you wanted to ask, cousin."

Maegor nodded awkwardly and broke away from the princess' glance and turned to looked at his plate. I was going to ask why he was a knight...

Don told him that there were no knights in north of the neck, that because they worshipped trees instead of the Seven they could not be knighted.

He thought about asking the knight himself once meeting him. But judging by what Rhaenys said, that wouldn't be the most sensible thing to do.

They resumed dining. Viserys and Rhaenys talked to each other, and he and the girl, Daenerys, were left unbothered. Maegor liked it that way, and Daenerys didn't seem to mind it so much either. Though, he did notice the shy glances the girl would throw at him.

Should he talk to her? Maegor wasn't sure. It would suit him better if he didn't speak anymore; it might save him from another embarrassment.

Sadly the girl had a mind of her own.

"Cousin Maegor?" Daenerys asked in a small voice, which made her seem younger than she already was. "Have you ever been in the Seven Kingdoms?"

He remembered the docks at the Crabb port, the salt-scented air, the soldier pines, the jagged mountains, the morning mist and uncle Damion. "Aye, princess. Though only to Claw Isle for a couple of years."

"How were you not... discovered? You are a Targaryen too."

"I pretended to be my uncle's bastard. A Dragonseed, if you will. There I am known as Mat Waters. My uncle Damion is the only one who knows who I really am." Maegor smiled, remembering his life in Claw Isle. "It was nice there."

He should have stayed there.

But the dream...

To go east and wake the dragon...

···················································

The wedding was in the fields in the outskirts of the great city of Pentos. Thousands of Dothraki screamers, thousands of women and children and even more slavesa attended the ceremony.

In the dais on the massive ramp, in a plae of honour, Viserys, Rhaenys, some red priests, Illyrio and other magisters, Ser Jorah Mormont and himself waited patiently for bride and groom to return.

Well, everyone except Viserys, who seethed with impatience. "I couldn't care less for Dothraki frivolities. The usurper sits on my father's throne! I gave him his bride. When is he going to pay the price?!"

Illyrio gave a massive shrug. "One cannot say... Months, years. The Dothraki do things in their own time."

"We have waited enough," Rhaenys said cooly. "The usurper has been ruling our throne for fifteen years. Every day his power grows, and our allies become his."

"I counsel you to be patient, my queen. Even if the stakes are high, and even if the Dothraki seem unruly, they are true to their word, but again, the Dothraki do things in their own time." The northern knight repeated the words of the magister. "Any man may beg a favour from the Khal but must never presume to berate him."

Rhaenys sneered unattractively. "We are not any men, Mormont." She spat his name as if it was a curse. "We are Targaryens. The last of Old Valyria. Rightful rulers of the Seven kingdoms." She declared haughtily.

While his wife kept her cool, Viserys flared. "The dragon does not beg, much less to some savage."

At that, the fat man smiled his oily smile. Was this some game to him? Maegor wondered.

Bride and groom arrived together with the rest of their procession. Daenerys looked miserable, while the Khal's visage revealed nothing.

The ceremony continued: an endless day of drinking, feasting, fighting and fucking, all done by the Dothraki. Maegor counted at least a dozen deaths, each as gory as the other. He tried to keep himself occupied by talking to Mormont, who sat next to him.

The northerner told him that a Dothraki wedding is always bound to have some deaths; that it was in their nature to do so.

At evenfall, Khal Drogo clapped, and everything came to a sudden halt. Drogo stood and pulled his young wife to her feet beside him. It was time for the bride gifts.

The Khal's bloodriders presented her with the traditional three weapons. One gave her a leather whip with a silver handle, another an arakh chased in gold, and the other a double-curved dragonbone bow taller than the bride by a hand. Daenerys said some words in the Dothraki tongue and the weapons were given to Drogo instead.

The other Dothraki brought their gifts, some of them were lavish, others, not so much. But Daenerys thanked them all for it anyways. Maegor couldn't help but wonder what is she going to do with so many gifts?

Drogo gifted his new bride with a horse; a silvery filly. Daenerys seemed marvelled by the sight of it. Maegor had to admit that the animal was beautiful. Much more beautiful and surely better bred than his own mare, Mudbank.

Viserys gifted his sister with three handmaids. Two copper-skinned Dothraki and a yellow-haired Lyseni. "These are no common servants, sweet sister," Viserys told his sister as they were brought forward one by one, like some cattle show. "Illyrio and I selected them personally for you." He pointed at one of the Dothraki girls. "Irri will teach you riding," Then the other. "Jhiqui the Dothraki tongue." And with a suggestive smile, he pointed at the Lysene. "And Doreah will instruct you in the womanly arts..." Viserys leaned into and whispered something in his sister's ear. Daenerys could barely conceal her disgust.

And I came to wake the dragon... Maegor hoped it was the drink that made him act this way.

Rhaenys gifted her good-sister with seven different gowns. Each of the finest silks and each a different colour. "To honour the faith of the seven, my good-sister." Rhaenys proclaimed, and Daenerys thanked her graciously, though Maegor noticed that she did not smile.

Maegor's gift was modest: two twin copper bracelets in the shape of dragons (It was the only thing he could afford). "Thank you, Ser Maegor," Daenerys said with an honest smile. "I will treasure them, truly."

Not to be outdone in their modesty, Mormont's gift was laid before Daenerys; a small stack of old books containing stories and songs of the Seven Kingdoms. And again the young bride smiled.

Then the fat man muttered a command, and four burly slaves hurried forward, bearing between them a great chest bound in bronze. When Daenerys opened it, Maegor managed to caught a glimpse of what was inside the ornate chest.

Three huge eggs; one black, one white and one green. All covered with glistening scales.

"Dragon's eggs, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai." Illyrio claimed.

"And there are three of them! For the three of us! The last of House Targaryen." Princess Rhaenys exclaimed, delighted.

Maegor knew she was excluding him. That didn't hurt him, it was not as if he wasn't expecting that.

But to his surprised, Daenerys spoke back, with more confidence than he had ever heard her before. "You are wrong, good-sister." She turned to look at him. "There are four of us."

Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф

A.N: Regarding the dream sequence, I wish it could have been shorter, but there was certain imagery that I really wanted people to catch.

And what did you think of both Maegor and Elaena?

Next Chapter: News of Jon Arryn's death arrives in Driftmark together with Cersei. On the other hand, Maegor and the khalassar spent some time in the forest of Qohor.