Sansa Stark
The Jade Gates, 300AC
If they spent any more than another three days on this ship, she was sure she was going to be doing nothing but vomiting for hours on end. Desperately trying to hold in the little she had eaten as she stared out across the water where if the crew were correct, they would be entering into the port of the city of Qarth. They had only been back on the ship for a couple of weeks after stopping in Great Moraq to stock up on supplies and to make repairs to the ship as they had gone through a nasty storm that made even Northern storms look like child's play.
Whilst barely settled, the town they had stocked up in allowed them to get off the ship and stretch their legs, something Sansa was more than happy to do because she was beginning to get to the end of her tether on many a thing. Why were they heading for Qarth? She'd asked Rhaenys and Mychelah the question but neither seemed to know, only that they had been guided to head here and that there would be something here. Why was she with them? Rhaenys had rolled her eyes and said Aegon had wanted her. For a long time, she had struggled coming to terms with that, because everyone believed both Rhaenys and Aegon to be dead.
Yet they weren't, they were alive and well.
Over the many weeks in which they had been on the Summer Sea, there was not much to do other than to talk with one another and learn from one another too. Mychelah had been disturbed when she let slip she did not understand the ways of the capital and how sheltered she had been, something she now was not pleased with. The day after this slip up, the older woman had sat down with her and got what she could from her so she knew where to work from.
A woman may not fight on a battlefield, but a woman must know how to fight in other ways so as not to be used like a pawn.
For a long time, she had no idea what that had meant. But as the days went on and she slowly learned more, understanding fell upon her and for the first time since she had left Kings Landing, she had wanted to scream at her mother and her father. Guilt had ebbed in realisation because word had reached them of what had happened to her father and subsequently what was happening with Westeros. It unnerved her, knowing what she did now. She'd been nought but a pawn, and she still was a pawn. When Sansa had figured out the real reason she was here, she had wanted to weep and rage and scream all at the same time. With her here, it meant she was a pawn against her family.
At least her circumstances were considerably better here, because no one surrounding her sugar coated what they spoke. It was a common thing for Northerner's to not hold their tongues, but her mother had her raised like a proper Southern woman. Despite this, it was nice to hear it as is, because it reminded her of home. Of the grey walls of Winterfell, of the Godswood, of the hot springs below the castle. Feeling snow crunch under her feet and seeing her breath dance along the open air. What she would give to be there again.
She closed her eyes at the thought before opening them to look out ahead again. Gently tapping her fingers on the edge as something came into her vision but it was difficult to make out what it was due to the fog. It had taken them so long to arrive here. After leaving Volantis, they had headed south for the Summer Islands and following the coast of Sothoryos. To avoid the Doom they had said, something which was proven as even from where they had been, she could see the redness of the sky over where the Valyrian Peninsula had broke apart and everyone living there had perished with their dragons.
Jaeron's ancestors had come from here, she thought to herself. The last person who had dared to go anywhere near Valyria was Princess Aerea, but she did not live long enough to confirm what she had saw there. She'd stumbled in on Old Nan telling the story to Bran one day, of how she had come back to Westeros clinging to Balerion's back as skinny as a twig and her skin breaking open for worms with faces to exit her body. A fever so hot that she had literally been smoking like a freshly roasted pig as she had said. And the second her skin contacted the ice in the bath in a last attempt to cool the fever, she had died from shock.
"The captain estimated we will be there within a few hours."
She snapped her head to the side, seeing Rhaenys with her elbows rested on the edge with her black hair braided back to keep it from her face.
"I'll be glad to have my feet on solid ground again."
"You did not long ago."
Sansa gave the older girl a look at the remark but soon her lips pulled apart in a smile. Whilst there was a decent age difference, Rhaenys was the closest in age to her.
"Has Aegon landed in Volantis yet?"
"I know nought where my brother is currently but if he sticks to the plan, he should be there."
If they stuck to the plan. A plan she had been partially made aware of but she was not so dim anymore to realise she hadn't been told of the whole plan. Aegon was to wed Arianne Martell to bind Dorne to him and was going to sail from Volantis to Westeros with his army. It unnerved her, because what was going to happen with all of this? Jaeron was fighting for the throne because he did not know his older half-siblings were alive, people had sworn for him and had bent their knees to him. When the truth came out, would they bend the knee to the older brother? If so, Jaeron by duty would be expected to execute them for a broken oath. And what would Jaeron do?
Her cousin had sworn he was not interested in the throne, but so much had changed now she did not know what to think anymore. Had his desires changed? Had he tasted power much like she had in Kings Landing and was seeking more of the honey out? It didn't sound like something he would do, but whether he would relinquish the claim in favour of his brother was unknown. Some agreement would need to come forth, but no agreement could come forth until the truth of Elia's workings came to light. It was a day that was closing in, and it was one she was not looking forward to.
"Aegon won't harm Jaeron, Sansa. There are so few of our House left, and House Targaryen has had way too many kinslayers amongst our midst. We will stand strong- "
"As you keep telling me, Rhaenys. But it is a worry of mine all the same. Jaeron will not take it lightly that everything he has worked for will have been for nothing."
It was something they regularly disagreed on. Her cousin wouldn't turn on his own family, would he? Septa Mordane always said bastards will stoop at nothing to get what they want, but he was not a bastard. This in turn meant he wouldn't do so, surely? It brought her shame that even such thoughts were crossing her mind, there was no doubt if it was Arya here and not her she would have an answer in seconds. They were always close, being the only two of the pack who had the Stark look about them and therefore were seen as outsiders. Sticking to one another like they were a single person.
The fog had lifted slightly now, being able to see the massive iron gates up ahead. Soon, they would be passing under them and they would be in the ancient city of Qarth. Despite her nervousness over everything, Sansa was excited. She'd read about Qarth when she was little and had been fascinated with the people here. The sole city left of the Qaathi after being defeated and chased by Dothraki and Sarnori alike. Maester Luwin had told her the Qaathi believed themselves to be the first men to walk, but the Citadel was dubious of the claim. No one knew for certain just how old the city was. Some said it had stood when the Valyrian's of Old were only sheep herders, some said it was the westernmost port of the Great Empire of the Dawn, some said the Yi-Tish had built it intending to build a bright across the Bone Mountains much like the Long Bridge of Volantis conjoined the Old City and the New City.
It wasn't long until the shore was visible. Or more accurately, the first of the three walls of Qarth was visible. Standing thirty feet high and engraved with numerous images but they were too far to make out what the images were still. The wall seems to go on forever, confirming just how large the city was. Kings Landing was a small town in comparison. Mychelah walking over to stand at her other side now to take in the view.
"If we have come here on another stupid chase on that woman's words Rhaenys- "
"You'll rip my pretty head off by twisting it and throw me into the sea. You've said the words many a time."
It was a morbid thought, but clearly the two had a bond with one another she herself had never experienced. Mychelah had raised Rhaenys as her own, had willingly gone into exile with her bastard half-brother Torghen to protect two of five known Targaryen's. There was her cousin, Maester Aemon at the wall, Daenerys last known to be in the Dothraki Sea, Rhaenys beside her, and Aegon either in Volantis or on his way to Volantis. Soon, they would converge as one again, and it was a thought Sansa knew nought what to make of.
"Who is this woman you both speak of?"
A look was shared between the two of them, one of uncertainty she knew now. This not easing her nerves over her current situation. She may be treated as a guest, but she was not as naïve as she had once been. Numerous harsh realities had been forced upon her since the truth had come out regarding her new friend- well, if they could be considered friends. She was still a prisoner, a bargaining chip. What she was going to be used for was difficult to tell, but hopefully it was for nothing bad.
"Quaithe of the Shadow. All we know is that she's a Shadowbinder from Asshai. We don't know what she looks like as she is always wearing a mask of red and gold, but she appears every now and then. She speaks in riddles too, and that is what I need to find out as her last one makes no sense."
Sansa quirked an eyebrow up as she stared at the copper skinned woman, waiting on further clarification.
"To go north, you must journey south, to reach the west you must go east. To go forward you must go back and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow."
None of that made any sense. How could one go north by heading south? And how could one go west by travelling east?
"The shadow obviously means Asshai, but we will not be going to that cursed place. Nothing good ever happens there."
"Old Nan used to tell us there are no children in Asshai and no food grows, they rely on trade from other cities."
"She spoke true. A place where nothing grows and no children live is not somewhere I ever want to be. If anything, I want to be as far away as possible from such a place. Torghen was always fascinated with it, wanted to travel there. Even saying he wished to travel up the river to Stygai. Even the Shadowbinder's of Asshai refuse to go anywhere near it. It's called the Corpse City for a reason."
A shiver wracked along her spine at this, never having heard of Stygai before. If what was spoken was true and even Shadowbinder's refused to go there, something terrible must lurk around. It was said dragons initially came from the mountainous Shadow Lands, did dragons still lurk there? Unbonded and wild? The sheer thought made her blood go ice cold just in thought. The captain yelled out now they were in too shallow waters to get farther in the ship, boats being lowered and a rope ladder following them for people to climb down to row to shore. Staring at the thirty-foot wall with trepidation now and wondering what was waiting them here. Was that Quaithe here? If so, she was not someone she wished to meet. She'd seen the drunken Knight Thoros in Kings Landing and even he made her feel uneasy with his flaming swords that he preferred to use in a fight. Shaking her head and beginning to climb down.
The sand was boiling. Despite wearing shoes which protected her skin, she could still feel the sheer heat in her toes. To think people walked here often and were just used to it was strange to her. Then again, to a lot of people summer snows were considered strange and to her they were incredibly normal. The guards standing at the entrance into the second wall which she could now see up close alongside the third that stood a staggering fifty feet in height which completely surrounded the city. Words were spoken but it was words she wasn't taking in. Now that they were at the base and she was looking up, the sheer size made her dizzy. The walls of Winterfell were higher than this, but somehow these seemed twice as high to her. The doors being opened and they walked into the second wall, a guard from the first nodding to the next set of guards that they had been granted entry into the city.
The moment the entryway to the city was opened, her breath caught in her throat and her mouth fell open in shock. Turning to the older woman beside her who equally looked as shocked. They'd heard of how beautiful the city was in books and from word of mouth, but seeing it with ones own eyes was something else. The street they were on made of sandstone that was so smooth it were like she were walking in the halls of the Red Keep again. Grand entrances to buildings with marble statues, gold decorations, pillars expertly carved with typical Qartheen designs.
And then the horns started, people lining up on either side of the street with an array of them all making different trumpeting sounds. Some were familiar to her, having seen them around Kings Landing and the occasional hunting horn her father would take with him the rare few times he went hunting. Some were extremely long and skinny, some were wrapped into complicated knots, and some were so large the bronze (or what appeared to be bronze) that made them had been twisted so that it wrapped around those who were playing them the way a snake wraps around its pray.
Trees were separating each building too, each with leaves that were like massive fans which sheltered them somewhat from the intense heat of southern Essos, this coupled with the fresh breeze from the Summer Sea making it bearable. Children running around and eyes widening at seeing they wore nothing on their bodies apart from what appeared to be paint. Some were wearing scaled copper armour with intricately carved helmets inlaid with rubies and garnets and emeralds. Those wearing silk were made of multiple colours that every time the sun hit it, the tone shifted completely. One moment it was purple and the next moment it was blue. The people walking around were tall, something which made her feel welcomed as she was a tall child. Taller than her mother at the age of thirteen in fact, and if what Maester Luwin spoke was true if she did not stop growing she would soon be taller than her father was.
Or had been.
It didn't feel real to her, but tears over what had happened had long since dried up. Joffrey had been the one to give the order the whispers said, and Sansa wanted to look him in the eye as he was faced with the same fate. Or perhaps more- remembering the sneer on his face when Lady had been ordered to be killed after Nymeria had bitten him. Gods, how could she have been so naïve? So innocent? Little bird the Hound had called her, a bird with clipped wings that couldn't fly anywhere.
No more, she had sworn to herself. She was a wolf, and she had to learn to show her fangs if need be.
The men she noticed were wearing shirts covered in hundreds- or even thousands- of beads in multiple colours. Some sewn over the top so they jangled like a chain with every step they took, and some sewn into their silken shirts themselves. A small invading her nose she had never experienced before and snapping her head to where it had come from and eyes widening once more at the creatures seated outside the buildings.
"What in seven hells are they?"
"Camels. They only live in extremely warm lands, the Qartheen ride them like us Westerosi ride horses. Or in the case of Targaryen's- dragons."
Rhaenys tightened her lips at Mychelah's words. The night prior, she had said her egg had felt a lot warmer than it usually did. Not to Sansa though, to her it was as cold as ice. But so had Jaeron's, and his had hatched. Not many reports had come out regarding them. Perhaps Rhaenys' would follow soon. Aegon's had hatched they said, but only in the last couple of months. According to his sister, it was coloured orange, bronze, and white. The thought there were multiple dragons born again surely had to mean something, but what could it mean? Was it a sign that House Targaryen would once again rise to a power not seen since before the Doom? But then words spoken around her began to sink in, pausing momentarily as she heard the words silver-haired-lady. From looking around, the people here did not seem to possess silver hair. Then dragons were mentioned, and of Horse Lord's. Which meant only one thing. From the look on Rhaenys' face, the words had registered too.
"Daenerys is here."
They walked further at this, still taking everything in. This was stopped as a man walked over to her with skin darker than Rhaenys that looked like chocolate. Not that they got such a treat often as it came from Essos and was very expensive. Her father only ever brought it on for their name-days.
"Princesses, we would welcome you to Qarth. I am Xaro Xhoan Daxos, and I will take you to where you need to be."
Daenerys Targaryen
Qarth, 300AC
"Qarth is the greatest city that ever was or ever will be."
Words Pyat Pree had spoken to her, when she had asked the simple question of the City of Bones. Or Vaes Tolorro as the Dothraki named it. Long in ruins and all knowledge of who had lived in the once grand city lost even longer than this. Some said it was once a part of Qarth, some said it had once been a part of the Freehold, and others named it the easternmost city of Ghis. The words spoken to her were words in the wind of course, but this did not mean there was truth to them.
Qarth was a city of magnificence. From the high walls that kept it separated from the outside of red sandstone, grey granite, and white marble. Camels wandering around, the scent of all the wonderous food and spices she had come to known in the Eastern Market in Vaes Dothrak. Cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and star anise. To chillies so hot they were painful to eat yet tasted so good a man did not care about the pain. The people walking around with their long hair in intricate style not seen anywhere else and the women happily walking around with a breast exposed as they believed a woman's breast was made to be shown openly.
She wore a gown of pale lavender which only made the violet of her eyes stand out more. Or so Jorah had spoken to her. Previous words he had spoken causing her to look at him strangely still. With amethysts and jades sewn into the fabric in intricate Qartheen designs and tassels of pearls that jangled against one another like tiny little bells with every move she made. It brought a smile to her face, it reminded her of the bells Drogo had worn in his hair. A nip at her finger broke her attention as she looked to the cream and gold dragon she held in her arms currently curled up like a baby.
"No biting, Viserion."
He snapped at her again but in a moment she had used her hand to clasp his mouth and shut it so he could not do anything. Drogon screeching and flying over to perch on her shoulder and hiss at his brother.
"You can try to tame them all you wish, Khaleesi. But a dragon is not a tame beast- "
"They are not beasts, Ser Jorah. They are my children, the only children I will ever have."
Daenerys looked up to take in his expression to her response, noticing Viserion had calmed considerably as she released her grip only for him to hiss at her and fly off to the cages she kept them in and curling into a ball to sulk.
She looked like you.
He had spoken those words to her, when she had asked about his wife. Or was she his wife? He had not seen her in years and if his words were true she had settled with another man far away.
"Speak your piece, Ser Jorah."
"I mislike it here, Khaleesi."
"I am aware, as you have made it known since we arrived. Xaro Xhoan Daxos has been a gracious host as has Pyat Pree- "
"A man so rich he eats and shits gold and a warlock. Not company one wants to favour, my Queen."
My Queen. The words seemed so foreign to her, yet she supposed it is what she was. Viserys had been the rightful King yet his body now lay rotting in Vaes Dothrak as a testament that steel in the sacred city was against everything the Dothraki stood for. Especially as he had wanted to cut her child from her. Would he have done it? That was difficult to say. She had long accepted the brother she had once loved was not the brother she'd had, having lost all ounce of sanity when he'd had to sell their mothers crown to buy food.
Xaro Xhoan Daxos had offer her his home and promised no harm would befall her whilst she was here. Daenerys had questioned the gift on more than one occasion, yet the man had always said that for her, no gift was too great. Let the man spend his coin on what he wanted, and if he wanted to spent it on her, then she would accept it graciously. Quaithe had appeared again when she had closed her eyes, words spinning in her mind like she had been stood directly beside her.
"Beware of all. They shall come day and night to see the wonder that has been born again into the world, and when they see they shall lust. For dragons are fire made flesh, and fire is power."
Fire is power. Dragons were fire made flesh. The warning was as clear to her as the crystal clear waters of Pentos which she would swim in on occasion under the care of Magister Illyrio. A man she had trusted nought yet a man who had kept her alive which was a sour taste upon her tongue. She was a dragon, the last Targaryen. The Mother of Dragons they had called her, having been the first to hatch dragon eggs in over a century. Rhaegal flew over to her now and perched on her other shoulder as she reached up to scratch his head, green and bronze dragon purring in contentment at the touch.
"We will stay as long as we need to, Ser."
How long though was unknown. A few days? A few weeks? Perhaps a couple of years? The comet had brought them here, she had walked across the Red Waste with the smallest Khalasar known, yet it was a Khalasar that was incredibly loyal to her. How could they not be? They had watched as she had walked into Drogo's funeral pyre and emerged from the flames unharmed with three dragon hatchlings on her body. If what Viserys had told her was true, their ancestors before the Doom had skirmishes with the Dothraki on many occasions over the land. One side claimed it was always theirs, and the other side claimed it via conquest.
"The mask of red came to you again, didn't she?"
"Aye, she did."
She repeated the words back to him, watching his gaze to try and figure out what he was thinking to them.
"She speaks truly, though I mislike her as much as the others."
"Is there anyone in Qarth you like, Ser Jorah?"
He did not answer her question at this, leaving the hall which was confirmation he wanted her to follow him. Insult burning deep within her because who was he to silently order her? He named her Queen, and a Queen is not commanded by her subjects. If he was doing so, it meant something had occurred.
"The walls are covered with eyes and ears, my Queen. You had best not get used to speaking freely."
"If I cannot speak freely when can I speak?"
He had smiled at that response, a genuine smile that made him look so much younger than he did.
"Where are we headed?"
"The gardens, there are visitors here, my Queen. Visitors I know nought whether to believe or not."
Her eyebrows furrowed at this, wondering who could've come. Was it another one of the Warlocks? Pyat Pree had said something about her meeting them at some point during her stay, something in which she was not looking forward to doing. But she was a guest here, and if she was going to be invited somewhere then she would go to keep up appearances. Or was it another of the Thirteen? Mayhaps one had finally come around to supporting her cause. She'd tried for long enough and every time she had been spat on and spoken to like she were a child. She was the Queen, and a Queen should never be beholden to words as such.
The gardens of the manse were equally as exquisite as the rest. With roses and lilies and forget-me-nots. To monsteras draping along the balconies that overlooked the central square the gardens were build around. The marble water fountains intricately carved with battles long lost to time and inlaid with solid gold. Streams that were fed from the Summer Sea nearby with lily pads and lotus' floating along. The sound of crickets and blood flies and the croaking of frogs echoing around them. Xaro stood ahead now, smiling lightly at him as she reached her hand out for him to take to bring to his lips to kiss her knuckles gently.
"Ser Jorah says we have visitors, Xaro Xhoan Daxos."
"Aye, Khaleesi. If you would follow me."
Anger boiled within her again at this but she schooled her face to hide her annoyance at the referral. Walking towards a shaded area where there was a massive marble statue of a man stop a horse mid-rear with the strong of his bow pulled towards his cheek mid-shot. Four people stood there, one of which she recognised.
"Quaithe of the Shadow."
"Daenerys Stormborn."
She would never say so aloud, but it was comforting seeing the woman again. Or comforting seeing her in person again, because it was still strange that she could come to her in her dreams. Her red and gold mask covering her entire face and her hair too to hide what she looked like. People said the Shadowbinder's of Asshai were monstrous people. With fingers sharp and coloured black with death, with hair thin yet long that it looked like straw, with eyes so red there was no way they could be real. Whether the words were true, she knew nought, for Daenerys had never seen her without the mask. Turning to the other three people beside her. One an older woman with hair so fair it could perhaps pass as Valyrian silver were it not so obviously blonde, with eyes so blue she could swear the Summer Sea was within. The girl was much taller than she was, with long red hair that came to her waist with skin so far it looked like snow. Her eyes were an even bright shade of blue- almost like the turquoises Xaro was fond of given the amount of it that dotted his manse. The third a young woman with hair as black as the night sky, skin coloured caramel, and eyes such a dark shade of brown they could easily pass as black.
Who were these people? And why had they come to visit her? Given their clothing, they were not from Qarth. Volantis perhaps? Maybe Yi-Ti on the opposite side of the Bond Mountains? Perhaps even Great Moraq?
"You came to me again in the night."
"That I did, Mother of Dragons. Yet you have not heeded the warning. Dragons are fire made flesh, and fire is power."
Suddenly, realisation washed over her what the warning had meant. Dragons were fire, and fire was power. Dragons were power. Despite this, she kept her face still as she looked to the other three she had yet to be introduced to, noticing Xaro had left them. Ser Jorah was not so subtly gripping the hilt of his sword. No threat had made itself known, yet a threat could easily emerge so it was best to be prepared. Daenerys found it strange Rakharo was nowhere to be seen, he was usually flanking her other side but perhaps he was off fucking one of the woman that had come with her. She'd adopted many Dothraki customs when she had been a Khaleesi, yet there were many she still felt odd over.
"Please introduce us, Quaithe."
"This is Mychelah, she is an exile from Lannisport. She was a friend of your goodsister Princess Elia."
Her head snapped to her now, mouth opening slightly at the words. What was she doing here? Was she who she said she was? It was a name she herself had never heard of before, but she had only had Viserys and Ser Willem Darry- and the latter had died when she was young and did not remember him well.
"This is Sansa Stark, she is a guest of Mychelah- "
"You dare bring a wolf into dragons territory?!"
"The wolves are stronger allies of House Targaryen than you are, Ser Jorah. The Fat Stag may be dead but that still stands."
Her head snapped to Jorah now, for that had not been spoken to her. Robert Baratheon was dead. The man who had usurped her father and had murdered her brother so he could have the throne for himself. The Iron Throne was available to be taken! But then the name sunk in. Stark. The Stags Dogs who had taken up arms against her House who had done nothing wrong. The Irone Throne was theirs by right, and House Targaryen's it would be again.
"House Stark rose up against mine own House, Quaithe. You dare bring one of them into my midst- "
"House Stark rose against House Targaryen rightfully, Khaleesi. Ser Jorah may not have told you everything but what they say of your father is true."
"My father was a great man- "
"Your father strung my grandfather above a roaring fire and had him cooked alive in front of the entire court, your father had my uncle placed into a Tyroshi noose and deliberately placed him just out of reach of his father so the more he got closer to freeing his father the tighter the noose got. The entire time he laughed. And after this he demanded my fathers head be placed at his feet."
No. No. It could not be true. Viserys would've told her this. Looking to Quaithe before looking to Ser Jorah. It was there for barely a second but she caught the grim tightness of his lips. Her stomach tying into knots as she tried to imagine such a scene but it was so horrific she blinked multiple times in an attempt to force it out of her mind. The Mad King, King Scab, and who knows how many others names were bestowed upon her father. She had believed them to all be lies yet from a single movement from a man loyal to her confirmed they were not. Or at least not wholly.
"There is no need to worry, for the Iron Throne will be House Targaryen's again. In fact, there is a chance it already is back in House Targaryen's name."
"How? Queen Daenerys is the only Targaryen left- "
"Nay, because you stand in front of two more of the blood, Ser Jorah."
Quaithe reached up and began to untie her mask from the back. The first thing that fell was the long silver hair that was just as bright as her own. Whilst hers was now short as she was still growing it back after being burned off in the funeral pyre, there was no denying the colour. Then the mask fell off revealing a beautiful face. A face so beautiful it almost looked like a drawing come to life. One eye green, and one eye blue. The other three turned to her and it did not miss her gaze Mychelah's widened in alarm as clearly she had never revealed herself beforehand. But she had said two of the blood stood before her, and it was not Mychelah nor was it Sansa Stark. Which left the third woman. At most only a few years older than herself, and nothing of her features screamed Valyrian like Quaithe had done. Or was that her name? The deceit running deep because if she had known she had a relative she would've done everything she could've done to be with that relative. Daenerys hated being alone, yet apparently she was not alone after all.
"Just before the Sack of Kings Landing, Elia made me promise something, Princess."
"What would this promise me, Mychelah?"
It was quiet for a while before the words fell from her cherry-red lips.
"To protect her children. I have raised Rhaenys as my own in Lys since she was a young child, my brother has been raising Aegon- "
"And my father raised Jaeron."
Slowly, her hand came up to her mouth as she covered it, eyes welling up as feelings overcame her she had never experienced before.
"Elia only had two children- "
"Of her own womb, she did. Jaeron is- "
"Lyanna's."
Lyanna. Lyanna. Lyanna. The name Viserys said had been the last word Rhaegar had spoken. The name of the woman he had loved. Ser Jorah seemed just as shocked as she was at this news.
"Jaeron is currently fighting for the throne, and from the reports we have received, he is winning. Aegon is preparing to join him with the Golden Company in tow. You are not the only one with dragons, Khaleesi. Aegon's hatched a couple of months prior, but Jaeron's hatched nearing two years ago and he is bonded with one as its rider."
A Dragonrider. A title House Targaryen had not had since Princess Rhaena had died, the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Laena Velaryon and half-sister to her ancestor Viserys II. Dragons are fire made flesh, and fire is power.
Power indeed.
With a Dragonrider in her House, they were slowly rising from the ashes stronger than ever before.
"Seven eggs there are, six have hatched and one has yet to do so but will soon. All will be bonded in due time."
What did that mean? Turning to Quaithe once more who had still to say anything to her obvious Valyrian blood. Rhaegal had been fond of her, she remembered now from the last time she had seen her. Was she destined to be his rider and he her dragon? The woman walking over to her to loop her silver hair around her finger as those eyes stared deep into her. Like she were looking directly through to her bones.
"The Star of the Sea, they called me. Sorceress, Seductress, Bastard. I have been called everything, Princess. I was half-sister of a King and I was scorned for my fathers appetites that were too big to be healthy. I watched as brothers fought over me, as brothers fought brothers. As a man who wished to take me to wife felt a call to the Iron Throne more to his vows spoken to me- "
"Shiera Seastar has been dead for almost one hundred years- "
"The name Shiera Seastar has been dead, yet the woman still lives, Jorah the Andal. But no more."
