Chapter 14 – the 22nd day of May, 299 years after Aegon's Conquest

The water in the pool was cool and refreshing, and for the first time in months Daenerys felt almost relaxed as the queer little fish nibbled at her toes.

The palace of Xaro Xhoan Daxos was so grand and luxurious as to make the manse of Magister Illyrio seem a peasant's hovel. A third of her already meager khalasar had died in the red wastes, before being found by the expedition led by Xaro, Pyat Pree the warlock and Quaithe of the Shadow. Now just under a hundred remained, but in the wing given over to them there was plenty of room. They had been in the city but a week, and already their long trek seemed distant. Their bellies were full again. She saw color returning to the cheeks of her handmaidens. Doreah had died, but Irri and Jhiqui remained. It had been scarce four months, but already the events on the Dothraki sea seemed a lifetime ago. Visery's death, then Drogo's, the birth of her dragons, the red comet…Sometime recently, almost without noticing, her fifteenth nameday must have come and gone.

It was evening fall, and she was feeding her dragons pieces of charred pork when Irri stepped through the silk curtains to announce Ser Jorah had returned…and not alone. Daenerys had ordered him to head down to the docks for news of her Seven Kingdoms. At first he had returned only with queer rumors, such that had been the talk of the city even before her arrival, but now he must have found a more solid witness.

She bid them enter, seated on a mound of cushions, her dragons all about her. The man he brought with him wore a cloak of green and yellow feathers and had skin as black as polished jet. "Your Grace" the knight said. "I bring you Quhuru Mo, captain of the Cinnamon Wind out of Tall Trees Town."

The black man knelt. "I am greatly honoured, my queen" he said in the liquid Valyrian of the Free Cities.

"The honour is mine, Quhuru Mo" she said in the same language. "Have you come from the Summer Isles?"

"This is so, Your Grace, but before, not half a year past, we called at Oldtown." He hesitated just a moment. "If you wish for news, I can share with you those things I have heard."

"What is it you have heard, captain?" Daenerys asked, her interest perked.

"It is, I think, a most interesting time to be alive, most beautiful queen" Quhuru Mo said, giving her dragons a long glance. "For there are miracles occurring at both ends of the world."

"Miracles?" Daenerys asked, confused and curious in equal measure. She glanced down at Viserion, his gold-crested head resting on her knee, warm as a stone under the noon sun. "Of what miracles do you speak?"

"We did not linger long in Oldtown, my queen, so it is difficult to separate fact from rumour. There was talk of queer men in King's Landing, strangers who brought chaos in their wake. No one knows where they have come from, or what they may want. One of the few things all men agree upon however…" He glanced at her dragons again "is that they can fly."

Daenerys took several long seconds to respond. "Fly?" she said finally. "What do you mean? Are you talking of men with dragons of their own?" She glanced at Ser Jorah, who was frowning down at the man, but he did not speak.

Quhuru Mo looked uncertain. "I am not sure of dragons, my queen, but all agree they can fly. The flying men. Sōverior Vali they are called, though not all even agree they are men. Some think they are wizards, or messengers from the gods, or else, perhaps…even demons from some hell."

"Demons?" she said dumbly.

Quhuru bowed his head. "As I said, my queen, they have left chaos in their wake. Some say they killed the king, Robert Baratheon. Others merely say he was…taken. But in King's Landing there are said to be riots and fighting, or there was when we set sail. The High…Septon? The head of the faith in your sunset lands, was calling on all loyal lords to gather swords to end the threat, so last we heard."

Daerneys took a moment to process all this. Standing above them, Ser Jorah grunted. "I am sorry Khaleesi. I know the news sounds dire, queer even, but all along the docks there is the same talk."

"Is the usurper truly dead? Or is he not?" Daenerys demanded.

Quhuru bowed his head a little deeper. "My apologies, my queen, I do not know for certain. He is said to have been hunting when something most queer happened. In Oldtown, they said these flying men took him. Whether he is alive or dead now I cannot say. There was talk the boy king was to be crowned, but I cannot promise that either. You may have to wait for the next ship to hear more."

Daenerys nodded. "I thank you, captain, regardless. You have given me much to dwell upon. I will not mourn for the usurper, regardless of his fate. When does your ship return to Westeros?"

"Not for a year or more, I fear. From here the Cinnamon Wind sails east, to make the trader's circle round the Jade Sea."

"I see" said Dany, disappointed. "I wish you fair winds and good trading, then."

Quhuru Mo stood. "I am glad to have spoken to you, fair queen. I have seen your dragons, and it brings me hope."

"Hope?" she said. "How so?"

"Dragons have been gone from the world for hundreds of years, my queen." He flashed her a grim sort of smile. "I can only believe they were brought back for a reason."

With that, the captain took his leave. Jorah remained, arms crossed, looking after the Summer Islander as if deep in thought.

"What does this mean, Ser Jorah?" Daenerys asked, as Drogon and Rhaegal fought over another morsel.

"I am not sure, Khaleesi. It has been a long time since I was in Westeros, it is true, but I have never heard a tale this queer. Flying men? Demons? When first I heard these tales, I thought them the ravings of the mad, or easily misled, but a dozen captains down by the docks have sworn the same. He is just the first who has actually been in Westeros this past year."

"The usurper, taken by wizards, who can fly? I have hatched dragons, could someone else have done the same? Could there be another Targaryen, seeking to reclaim our throne?" she suddenly found herself thinking back to half-remembered conversations about her surviving kin. Her brother had sought out such ties, third and fourth cousins and such scattered among the free cities, but no query had proved fruitful. In Illyrio's manse, there had even been a thick tome on Aegon the Conquerer and his descendants, listing over a thousand trueborn Targaryens, along with Velaryons, Baratheons, Blackfyres and hundreds of acknowledged bastards. Three hundred years and today only I still bear his name.

Jorah shook his head. "No Khaleesi. I cannot believe that. He speaks it true. The dragons have been gone for hundreds of years, and dragon eggs are rare enough. For two people to have hatched them anew, at the same time? It cannot be, and if it were dragons or Targaryens that did this, why not just say so? No, you are the last Targaryen, and there are only three dragons in all the world. Nothing he said contradicts that. This is something else, something even stranger."

"But could these men. These flying men be a threat to my kingdom?"

"I cannot say Khaleesi. We know too little" he turned to her. She could see the concern writ on his face, though he seemed to be doing his best to hide it. "I would not trouble yourself with this now, truly. We have only just emerged from the red waste, and we are safe. Whatever is happening, it is happening half a world away. If Robert is gone, he has children, and brothers…Let the usurper's dogs and the lords of Westeros deal with this threat for now."

Daenerys stroked Rhaegal's bony spine, while Drogon snapped at her ears. "Yes, you are right ser. My kingdom will have to keep."

It was only the very next day however, that the subject was revisited. Xaro usually joined her to break their fast, but that morning he was absent. She was busy enough tending to her dragons and her small khalasar, and the constant stream of gift givers and persons of note who wished to come gawk at her new children. Only past noon did he finally appear, accompanied by several strangers, but Dany recognized the garb of Volantis quick enough.

"Oh, most beautiful queen. I hope you fare well!" Xaro said, with his usual exuberance. "I hope your sleep was not troubled by disturbing news."

"I slept well Xaro" Dany replied. "To what disturbing news might you refer?"

Xaro glanced at the figure next to him. He was tall, with silver hair not so dissimilar from Dany's own. He wore a richly jewelled cloak of red and black and more gold rings than he had fingers, but his poise alone would have marked him as one of the old blood. "This is Maeresso Maegyr, cousin of Malaquo, triarch of Volantis. He arrived with the evening tide on the Black Basilisk as envoy from the noble triarchs."

"A pleasure, magister."

Maeresso bowed deeply. "A great honor to meet a queen, and the mother of dragons" he said, marvelling at her three children. Drogon snapped at him, showing teeth like needles.

"You are a long way from Volantis, ser".

"I have sailed on a grave mission, my queen."

"And what mission is that?" she asked.

The two men exchanged a glance. Xaro spoke first. "By now, I believe you have heard the queer rumours coming from your own sunset kingdoms?"

"I have heard tales of flying men. Sōverior Vali" Dany replied. She glanced at Ser Jorah, standing silently in the corner, glaring at the strangers with his usual distrust.

To her surprise, the Volantene turned and spat on the marble floor. Dany blinked. Xaro didn't react, even though it was his floor. "Not men, my queen" Maeresso went on. "I am afraid you are mistaken, though they do fly. Not Sōverior Vali. They are not even of this world. Have you heard the tale of the Sunset Ring?"

"I have not" Dany confessed.

"It appeared last year, on the shore of Blackwater Bay, very close to the site of Aegon's Landing three hundred years ago. A great ring, a thousand yards in height, a thousand yards across. Summoned by magic. Gleaming silver, like a polished plate. On the far side of it, there lies another world. A world of monsters. Sōverior Hōzalbori."

Not for the first time, Daenerys wondered if she was being mocked. Could this queer talk be some kind of test? To see how trusting and lackwit I truly am? But the men seemed completely serious.

"And what do you know of these…flying monsters?" Daenerys asked carefully. "Have you seen them yourself?"

"There are witnesses all the way from Oldtown to the Rhoyne, great queen" he replied. "They are not men, but some can take that form. Others appear as great black birds, as large as dragons, but dragons they are not. The freehold of old took to the skies with blood and fire, as your house remembers, but these beasts do the same with steel and lightning. The triarchs sent me east, and a score of others of the old blood, all on the same mission. We have sailed to Elyria and Tolos, Meereen, Yunkai and Astapor, the Summer isles and New Ghis, even to the Basilisk Isles and Great Moraq. Others have gone on to Yi Ti, Leng and beyond, seeking aid."

"What powers do these…monsters possess, that they would disturb you so?"

"Have you not yet heard, my queen?" he asked. He glanced at Xaro, who shook his head sadly. "My sincerest apologies. I have not seen fit to inform our gentle queen. I did not dare, not until the rumours were substantiated." A single tear ran slowly down his cheek.

"What rumours? What are you not telling me?" Daenerys asked, growing angry. I am mother to three dragons, the widow of a khal, and still they treat me like a hopeless child. At her feet, Drogon turned and hissed and snapped at the men with more vigour. Some of the Volentenes took a hesitant step backwards.

"King's Landing, your grace…it is gone" Maeresso reported gravely. "There was a great battle fought, and now the city is in ruins. Your High Septon was burnt in his own keep. Thousands perished. Thousands more have fled the city, and have brought tales of woe to every corner of the known world."

Daenerys blinked, the news washing over her like a tidal wave. "The city is destroyed?"

"All, or close to all" Maeresso said. "Many have fled. Some stayed, but their fate may be worse. The survivors appear to have fallen under the sway of these Hōzalbori. The kingship is now claimed by a Stannis Baratheon, younger brother of King Robert. When I set out from Volantis, he was due to be crowned. These demons hold him in bondage, sit on his councils and populate his court."

Stannis Baratheon. She knew the name well. "Stannis is the man who drove us from our homeland, who made us flee from Dragonstone" Daenerys said. She had been a babe at the time, but Viserys had told her the story many a night. Stannis, the black admiral. She had not thought his name in years, but now she remembered long sleepless nights, fleeing from city to city with her brother. Of all the usurper's dogs Stannis had been the one she had feared most as a girl, not that she would admit as much now. She found herself looking over at Ser Jorah.

"I have met him, once, your grace" Jorah said darkly. "At Lannisport, in the tourney after Greyjoy's rebellion."

"What opinion did you form of him?"

Jorah thought on it a moment. "I confess, I do not recall speaking to him myself. In truth I know him best by reputation. He commanded the royal fleet during the usurper's reign. He smashed the Greyjoys off fair Isle. Before that, he held Storm's End against your father's loyalists for a year, then built the fleet that would take Dragonstone. I would not call him a man to be trifled with."

Xaro and the Volentenes had watched the exchange closely. Maeresso bowed his head at Ser Jorah just slightly. "Your knight speaks the truth, great queen. A formidable man, and it is the same who now holds counsel with these beasts, from worlds unknown."

"So the usurper is dead then? Truly?" she demanded. "What of his children? Did he not have three?"

Maeresso and Xaro exchanged another glance. "Rumours have spread far and wide, my queen" Xaro spoke up. "The story most told is that he was taken by these demons, within their magic ring. He was attacked whilst hunting. Most disturbing, they say he was already slain by the time they took him. Some time later, he emerged back through the Ring nonetheless. But the Robert Baratheon who emerged was…changed, not quite alive, not quite was not the same man who had entered. When he returned, he went straight to the Red Keep and there…murdered all his children."

Daenerys eyes widened in shock at this. "His own children?"

"So the stories go. All are said to have been slain. Afterwards Robert himself was cut down again by Jaime Lannister, son of Lord Tywin of Casterly Rock. No doubt you know him as the knight who slew your own father."

"Twice a kingslayer, he is now called" Maeresso added. "It seems he killed Robert for good, this time."

Daenerys furrowed her brow at this. The tale was only growing queerer and more alarming. Viserys had always hoped the usurper's dogs would fight each other. It was one prediction of his that appeared to have come true, though she could not have imagined the circumstances. "Who fights for this new usurper then? Who in my kingdom has bent the knee to these Sōverior Hōzalbori?"

Xaro clapped his hands, calling upon his household slaves, and a procession swiftly came in bearing heavy plates loaded with figs, dried apricots, nuts, berries and shellfish. He invited the Volentenes to sit, and the party spent hours around a solid marble table, consulting letters and maps and scrolls of parchment, going over what news they had of the conflict that was apparently engulfing her realm, half a world away. She granted Ser Jorah a seat, so that he may offer his own counsel.

"Do recall Khaleesi, Stannis does share blood with you" Jorah cautioned. "His grandmother was Rhaelle Targaryen, sister to your own grandsire Jaehaerys. You are second cousins, as Robert was to Rhaegar. All of you sprung from the loins of Aegon V. It was how Robert justified his kingship, after your family were driven from Westeros."

"I will show no mercy on account of mere blood" Daenerys said, turning to her big knight. "What mercy did the usurper show to Rhaegar? Or to Elia and her children? I will pay the usurpers in their own coin."

Half of what the Volentenes presented was mere rumour, but the broad strokes seemed accurate. King's Landing had fallen to the invaders. Oldtown and Lannisport still defied them. In Essos, first Braavos and then Pentos looked to have fallen under their influence also, but the triarchs were trying to rally the other free cities while there was still time. When Maeresso had sailed, the elections had been looming. By now the Tigers might have already seized control of the city, as they had not since the Century of Blood. Volantis was preparing for war.

"I think it must be fate that has taken me to you, great queen" Maeresso said, when the sun was sinking low over Xaro's courtyards. "Many sailed from our harbors, as I said. I hoped to come here to make alliance with Qarth, so that its men and ships, its camelry, its warlocks and mages even, could be brought to bear against our common enemy. Never in my wildest dreams did I consider that I might find something much greater" he said, looking down at her dragons again. Rhaegal was snoozing in her lap now, while Viserion wandered at will over the table, snapping and hissing at the strangers. Drogon seemed to have grown bored with the conversation, having hopped over to the windowsill by the pool, screeching at the little fish.

Daenerys stroked Rhaegal's bony spine, taking a moment to marshal her thoughts. Something else had been pressing on her mind for many days.

"When my dragons hatched, that same night, a great comet appeared in the skies. You will recall it, of course" she said, as the Volentenes listened. "It directed me, go east, across the red waste. Many and more died in the crossing, but I survived, as did my children. I must believe the gods spared us for a reason. I have oft dwelled on what that reason must be."

"Fair queen, you must dwell no more" Xaro said sweetly. "The gods returned dragons to us in our time of need. Could it be mere coincidence, that they appear at the moment of our gravest peril? No. The conclusion is an inescapable one. This is your destiny, my queen. To reclaim your kingdom and drive out the evil that has gathered there. For this reason, the last scion of old Valyria has been preserved."

Despite herself, Daenerys could not fault his words. Am I allowing myself to be seduced by a flattering tongue? But she could think of no better explanation. Whomever, or whatever, had sent the comet must have some use for her. She looked around at the expectant faces. Jorah, Xaro, the Volentenes. They were gazing at her in what could only be described as awe. Suddenly, Maeresso did something even more unexpected. He stood, but only to walk around the table. Beside her, Jorah tensed, but the Volentene only came before her to take a knee. His companions hastened to do the same. Even Xaro came and joined them.

"Fair queen, last of the Targaryens, mother of dragons, scion of the old blood…The triarchs of Volantis beg you for your help. Let us make common cause against these foes. Let us give you the aid you seek. We have ships. We have men. We have all the wealth of the Rhoyne and the Orange Shore…Let us aid you, to throw down this dark pretender and reclaim the throne of your ancestors. To drive out this evil that threatens the entire world."

The men were kneeling. Great magisters and captains of Volantis. There was enough gold and gems on their persons it could have hired her a fleet of ships, she knew. Yet for a moment Daenerys hesitated. She thought back, almost a decade past, to when she had last been in that great city. She could barely remember it, with its dwarf elephants and the Long Bridge and the swarms of tattooed slaves. "My brother sought out your help once" she said, as Viserion snapped and shrieked nearby. "The triarchs ignored his pleas. Laughed at him, I recall."

She could not be sure of that last part, but it served its purpose. Maeresso looked suitably ashamed. More tears were trickling down Xaro's face. "More to our folly" the Volentene said. "We did not appreciate the purpose you would one day serve, the greatness to which you would rise. Please, forgive us, oh fair queen. You have been granted a great gift. Without you, without your dragons, the last remnants of the freehold that still stand…may fall."

There was silence in the room, aside from the snapping and hissing of her children. She found herself looking at Jorah again. The big knight seemed to hesitate a moment, then took a knee as well. "Westeros needs you Khaleesi. Of that…it is the one thing I am certain."

In her lap, Rhaegal stirred. The hatchling squirmed his way out of her hands, unfurling green and bronze wings. He flapped them tentatively. Suddenly he leapt from her seat, as if to soar high into the air, but landed on the plush carpet three feet away. She finally spoke.

"My dragons…they are yet young," she admitted "small and weak."

"Yes, fair queen" Maeresso said, still kneeling before her, but for the first time there was the hint of a smile on the Volentene's lips. "For now, they are small…but they will grow."